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“Come on, Hotch, it's like you're not even trying!”
Hotch was pouring sweat, a seemingly never ending stream rushed down his face and back, his breathing was ragged and his heart throwing fits against his ribs. It felt like every minute he stayed in this room the stuffier it got, and Morgan was no better. They'd been at it for hours, pushing and throwing timed punches with the goal of rendering the other too tired to carry on. Hotch had hardly entertained the idea. The thought of spending his time stuck in a room sparring with Morgan was not as appealing as everyone made it sound. His agreement only stemmed from the fact that either Morgan would train him to get him prepared for the field again, or they'd send someone else. Morgan had also been reluctant when the idea was presented to him. He had cringed his nose and made a comment that Hotch would probably just “talk shop” to him rather than focus on the task at hand.
“Hotch is to anal for these types of things, everytime i ever been alone with him he always talks about work, or we have simple conversation about hailey and Jack" Morgan had expressed his grievances to Rossi earlier the morning he heard about it. He hated awkward small talk, and he couldn't just walk in and start swinging on his boss to avoid saying “hello”, and after foyet, their brief conversations have become less to none when they have to be alone for long amounts of time. Of course these words had gotten back to Hotch, how could they not? And even after Hotch had assured him he did not have to train him if he felt uncomfortable, and even had suggested they spend more time together to regain what–abeit lack there of-“friendship” they had lost. Two weeks of quality bonding time over wine, one horrible movie that left them stumbling out of a theater wishing they could regain their two hours back, and some chinese food dinners, and Morgan had taken back almost every drill sergeant comment he had made about hotch and found he did somewhat enjoy spending time with him and occasionally his son. He had agreed to train hotch. Sparring was one of his favorites and he was naturally gifted in it. It was the best full body workout in his opinion.
They both knew Derek was pulling his punches, if it was someone else he'd let himself loosen up and really feel the moment. But at the moment he was too focused on making sure Hotch didn't lose his footing and went plunging to the ground. A mistake Hotch had calculated. The moment Morgan goes to lean down to tap Hotch's supporting leg and tell him to correct his form is the exact moment Hotch uses all of his weight to slam Morgan right onto the mat.
Morgan Falls with a thud, his head shooting up and locks eyes with Hotch’s which swim with mirth. He stands tall and wears one of his rare cocky grins.
“It's like you’re not even trying” Hotch parrots his previous words. His grin only brightens when one makes its way to Derek’s face as well. He shakes his head with an amused chuckle.
“That was a cheap shot” he accepts hotch’s hand when he lends it and hoists himself up back to his feet.
“You left yourself open, it was your mistake” Hotch pushes his shoulder playfully and gets back into a ready stance. Derek rests his hands on his knees. Flashing all teeth as he stares up at hotch.
“Think you can handle me?” he asks. Hotch swallows thickly, his already flushed skin taking a new color to it as he nods a breathless “yeah”
This time Hotch keeps up, a new burst of energy soaring through his veins and something to prove to not only himself but to Morgan. So far, besides Hotch last dirty trick Derek has been less than impressed with his fighting skills, which is not at all surprising, but pride had Hotch wanting to knock derek on his ass time and time again and be reigned victor. See the look on the teams face when he lets it be known he bested Morgan at something hes known for. A fleeting and near impossible dream but even the slightest possibly has him moving quicker on his feet to keep up with Derek's jabs.
Derek calls out “right!” just as he sends his fist swinging towards hotchs ribs. Hotch grabs his arm and pulls him forward to attempt to make him lose his balance again, then takes his leg and delivers a kick to his shin, but Derek does not go down, instead just as Hotch makes contact with his leg, he uses that moment of momentum and air to flip hotch over and send him hurdling towards the mat. All the air leaves Hotchs lungs, his vision momentarily blurs and through the fog he sees Derek hitting his own knees next to him. Despite the momentum derek had, Hotch was no lightweight and in just the brief time lifted him enough to toss him he used a lot of energy. He pants, hands planted on the mat but his eyes shine in victory, because between the two of them, only Derek would be able to stand.
“Now that was a cheap shot” Hotch let out a breath as he tried to regain at least some of his strength. Derek chuckles breathlessly, closing his eyes.
“i totally kicked your ass” after a few more deep breaths Derek pulled himself towards Hotch to check if he was okay. Eyes scanning over his body that he misses the mischief circling in his boss’ iris just as he goes to place his hand on hotch’s shoulder he flips them over and pins Derek's shoulders down. He looms over the other and sets his gaze firm.
“Do you surrender?” he asks, staring down at Derek's shocked expression, his first reaction was to push up and try and knock hotch off, only for the older to push his shoulders more firmly, a challenge clear in his demeanor and Derek rises to it head on.
“I didn't take you as a sore loser, sir” Derek drags out the word “sir” in mockery. He glares, but it holds none of the heat it would if they were truly fighting.
“Only one of us is pinned to the mat.” their breaths mingle, becoming more shallow than the heavy air seeking ones they were taking, these breaths Derek would consider dangerous in the way his heart responds to it. He swallows, and hotch watches the way his adams apple bobs in his throat, and he tracks it up to the way Morgan's lips slightly part once more. He loosens his grip just enough to where derek is able to rest one hand on his chest, perhaps an attempt to push him away, to save them from unwanted actions.
“Hotch.” the sound of his name shouldn't sound so sweet in this moment, out of the millions of times Morgan had called him it, today–in the moment it shouldn't have been so different. But the way he says it sounds more like a gasped plea than a denial. That hand that pushed it way to Hotchs chest now curls around his dampened shirt and tugs.
Full soft lips meet his in a clouded sense of passion, and he removes one of his hands to cup Derek's cheek. Their kiss becomes everything they embody, rough and full of clashing teeth, sucking and taking, just as if they were standing toe to toe bickering back and forth over a decision. Hotch relishes in the way Derek bites back a groan when he nips at his bottom lip. Silently demanding control, and as expected hes met with a fierce challenge. Derek reaches up and grabs a fist full of his hair, pulling it back as he attempts to sit up, chasing the feeling of Hotch's lips. Only partly sitting up and hotch hand balancing on the mat below them to keep from falling their lips meet again and again. Hotch grits his teeth as the pain from Derek's tight grip sends heat traveling downwards fast. His hand comes up, digging nails in Derek's arm causing him to rip his hand away, this time when hotch forces him back to the mat, their hips meet accidentally and then again purposefully, Derek's head falls back to the mat and they both moan.
Hotch grips his chin, forcing his eye contact “i asked if you surrender, Agent Morgan”
He's met with no verbal answer. Derek's nails dig into his arms and he bucks his hips up, chasing hotch as pulls away. Hotch chuckles low in his throat, right then he decides he wants Morgan to beg for his mercy. But before he can even begin to ask footsteps, begin walking towards the gym- towards them.
Panic seeps through Derek's once lust filled gaze and with all his strength he pushes hotch off of him and shoots up straight. Hotch stumbles up after him, his cheeks growing pink with embarrassment, as he quickly tries to fix his clothing before whoever the intruder finds them compromised.
Rossi is the one who walks through the door just as Derek gives his back to them and walks a couple paces away. Shaking his head and discreetly fixing his own appearance.
Rossi looks between them. Noting the risen tension and awkward air coating the atmosphere. Hotch clears his throat, once, twice and then says “Dave? You needed something?”
Rossi watches Derek's retreating back, seemingly getting further and further away from the pair. “I came to tell the both of you we have a case…if you're ready for it?” At this Derek does turn around, his expression guarded, but his eyes tell a thousand stories he couldn't possibly hide, and so he keeps them trained on the ground.
“Of course, debrief us on the way to the plane, we'll be up in five" with this rossi nods and turns on his heels, but not before sending them another pointed look. And while that should've been the end of it all. Hotch would apologize for his lack of self control, swear it'd never happen again and they'd end this session before it could even really start, but the moment he turns to say all these things, Derek was already pushing out the gym door to the locker rooms.
Guilt makes a nasty home in his belly, he had overstepped, pushed a boundary not just between coworkers but as friends, a boundary Derek had written into his every being.
His mind unhelpfully picked apart every scene that replayed in his head searching for any signs that Morgan was uncomfortable or if he pushed too far.
He wouldn't continue to push and poke into Derek's space. It was obvious Morgan regretted what had happened, and so he made a choice to drag his tired body to the other side of headquarters to the bigger gym in the building and clean up there.
—---------------
Water pours over Derek's face, and down his weary body. He couldn't get Hotch out of his mind no matter how many times he tried to shake it free. Through the water he still feels his hands on his body and his lips stealing his breath away.
He pushes his forehead against the shower wall and lets out a breath. Then in a split decision he turns the water cold. His body betrays him as always, still in this moment he aches with need to have hotch’s body on top of him, dragging his hips down over his-
Fuck.
This wasn't working. Slowly his hand finds its way creeping towards his erection. Letting out a shaky moan the moment he wraps his hands around it. This is wrong, he shouldn't be doing this- let alone in a public place. Anyone could hear— he cups a hand over his own mouth, muffling the whimper that tumbles from his lips as he begins to stroke himself.
He tries to keep his mind clear of thought. But quickly his brain betrays him and flashes of hotch. His smile, the sound of his chuckle vibrating low in his chest. His hands traveling over his bare skin-
The water was freezing cold, but Derek felt like his body was set ablaze. His hips stuttered in his palm. It felt so good, but it wasn't enough. Even though he forbade it, a hand conjured just off of pure desire replaced his own in his mind, one bigger and more calloused, pale skinned. His grip tightens, the moan it produces bounces off the echoing walls of the shower room. He's close, and he bucks his hips pathetically, Hotch's name on his tongue when he finally cums.
Pleasure was fleeting, shame came hot and heavy. He felt sick, not out of disgust for hotch or anything of that nature, but out of distaste for his own actions. Hotch was his boss. He put them both in a position that'd be hard to come back from. The moment he realized what was about to happen he should've pushed him away like he originally intended, but that part of him that ached to have hotch’s attention and praise won the war.
“Your opinion matters to me”
He had said that who knows how long ago, and he meant it. His respect for hotch is unwavering, and always will be. Even the thought of ruining his image in Hotch's mind has his heart racing as he stumbles out of the shower, snatching up the nearest towel and sinking to the floor. He has little time to console himself, but he wants nothing more than to sink to the bottom of this floor and disappear.
—---------------------
The plane ride was no better. If not worse. With nowhere else to sit, it was like the universe pulled them together like magnets for its own twisted pleasure, and Derek found himself seated across from hotch force to look into his steel brown eyes flipping through a file.
“This is the fourth body?” Hotch asked Garcia again for confirmation. They were hunting after a killer who was on a rage killing spree. Attacking and beating men with his bare hands. Overkill. He showed no signs of slowing down, and from the crime scenes, it seemed he had plenty of anger built up, not only attacking the victims but destroying property close by. He wouldn't go down without a fight, and it was a fight Derek was already mentally preparing for....just like the one he was having internally.
Derek was normally great at schooling his emotions and expressions, after all he did hide his past for years without a single slip up. It made absolutely no sense why now all of a sudden he couldn't sit still. Shifting and fidgeting so obviously that the rest of the team stared at him like he was a bomb about to go off. Everyone except hotch, who like normal, asked for his input, and like normal he was supposed to answer, look his boss in his eyes and give his best assessment.
But stupidly, pathetically even he stumbled over his words, his face seemed to heat up and no matter how much he tried to force it, his eyes stayed trained on the paper in front of him.
“Are you okay?” JJ asked, touching his shoulder, never before has he shied away from her touch, but today he flinched away like her hand was molten lava. Silence carried, so heavy you could hear Derek's heavy breathing, and the way he sucked in a sharp breath before barreling on, this time, as clear and strong as he could make his trembling voice produce.
As he talked, he could feel Hotch's eyes on him, burning into his face and reading every thought bubbling in his mind. “What are the chances he's picking his victims rather than just running into them by chance?” he asks aloud. Hoping to defuse the situation. He's rewarded with Reid picking up his question and rambling on.
He lifts his gaze and locks eyes with hotch. They share a million words in that moment, and absolutely none of them ease the twisting in his gut. The look on Hotch's face tells him he needs to pull himself together. He's in a room full of profilers and he's acting like some teenage girl in front of her crush. He leans against the window, looking out to the clouds. Maybe this case would be one of the “easier” ones.
—--------------
“Garica. I need you to do a favor for me "Derek leans against the wall of a storage room, hidden from view and words too hushed to hear, he hears her pull up to her desk.
“Anything for you, my lover. What will it be today?” She hums, running her nails over keys of her keyboard.
“I need you to delete some footage for me” he bites his lip impatiently, he knows she'll ask, and may even feel the need to tell someone she may be doing something possibly illegal for Derek.
“Okayyy…what for?”
“Listen, its- just important. Just the footage around the time me and hotch were in the gym- and no dont go snooping just work your little magic fingers and get rid of that footage as fast as you can”
Her fingers fly over the keys as she's no doubt hacking into the Baus camera system, already seeing her entire career flash before her eyes- “sure, sugar, but you have to tell me why I'm doing this?”
Derek starts pacing, peeking over the window, finding hotch leaning back in a chair going over the newly built profile again. This time, the unsub killed two people. This time he took his frustration out with a metal pipe. Hotch had undid his tie, and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling his sleeves up around his elbow, he looked-
“Hellllo?”
“Is there any possible way you can do this without asking questions or alerting the team?”
“Unless you give me some answers, Derek morgan, I will be sending the footage to the team-” and that- well that just can't happen. He sighs, running a hand down his face, taking another quick glance at hotch. “If you two got into a argument- and not your typical argument you know ones where you get a little too angry and knock things over type angry-”
“We kissed”
………
“Oh.”
“Yeah….”
“Oh-”
“Garcia-”
“Well- how- Forgive me for being so blunt but how-” Derek pulls the phone away from his ears. Not wanting to even entertain what she could be saying about him and hotch and their relationship. Inner turmoil was killing him, the guilt was killing him, and holding this in was messing up his judgement. Twice already he had made a fool of himself in this case just because he couldn't talk normally to hotch without stumbling over his words or getting so flustered that even on his brown skin, it was obvious.
“And i liked it” he words pour out of him and now he can't stop “god, garcia i liked it too much. This is fucked. How am I going to do my job? I'm out here making a goddamn fool of myself”
“Okay”
“Okay? Come on baby girl i need more than that” his panic was evident. He wanted her to tell him he wasn't insane, or that he didn't royally fuck up.
“I'm sorry, Derek, you know I'd have plenty to say if this wasn't reality and truly happening right now- and please tell me I'm not the only one who knows?”
His silence answers her question
“you know secrets aren't my specialty. I'll crack under pressure!”
“Well don't be under pressure!” He argues back “just delete the footage and we can all forget it happened”
“But it did happen!”
“Goodbye, Garcia” just as he hangs up, reid opens the door and closes it behind him, concern written all over his face.
“What's going on with you and hotch?” He pressed immediately. “Because I've never seen you this tense and uncomfortable around him before so as i friend im really asking if you're okay” that's the other thing. Derek and Hotch have always been on the same footing in terms of their partnership, they trusted each other wholeheartedly, and even when they fought they knew how to move on immediately, conversation was never needed. They talked with actions instead. There has never been one time in all the years they've known each other, where Morgan has actively shown anxiety or discomfort because of hotch. And ever since the team has learned about his past. There has been more caution on everyone's part but especially hotch’s to make sure he never would have a reason to feel that way.
Hotch would never be like Buford. That's a no-brainer. But the authority alone could cause a trigger. A trigger Derek's has spent eons with his therapist going over. His “dislike” for authority figures. This is merely an attempt at making sure no bridges were destroyed before they're completely formed.
Derek turns away from Reid, he'd never be able to lie to the genius' face. “There's nothing going on with me and hotch.” Reid shakes his head
“But that's a lie- if you were telling at least half of a truth you'd be able to face me, and you wouldn't be clenching your jaw like you always do in an uncomfortable situation. This conversation alone is putting you on edge-”
“Reid” he does face him. Maybe to now prove a point “it's not- we just had one of our typical disagreements. I'm letting the steam blow over. You know how hotch gets”
“I also know how you get…did you guys…say things that can't be taken back?”
We did things that can't be taken back.
“Breathe, kid. Don't worry, before you know it me and hotch will be back to annoying each other in no time”
Except that didn't happen.
A close call had landed Derek right in the arms of the paramedics.
Him and hotch had been bickering, after hours and hours of doing this stupid damn dance around each other hotch had ordered Derek to stay behind if he could not listen too hotch or even look at him for five seconds. He stood firm, even as Derek pushed into his personal space. Making a comment about how Hotch only ordered him around when Derek didn't do exactly what he wants and how he wants it like a little lap dog.
Anger that resulted in hotch practically pushing Derek into a private room to “sort this out” once and for all. Hotch rarely shouts, but there's no one in this entire world that could get him as frustratingly angry as Derek Morgan can. He always knows exactly what buttons to push. They were practically chest to chest. A show off that neither of them would back off from. That was the issue with them, once they got started they didn't know how to stop. Both too prideful, petty and maybe even spiteful to give up.
“Don't make me bench you, Morgan because I can and I will” Derek lifted his chin in defiance.
“Then do it”
He hated this side of them. He hated seeing Morgan look at him with burning anger. Completely different than the honey dew eyes that stared up at him in pleasure not even 48 hours ago. It was a painful reminder that he and Morgan would never fully get along. They were just too different. Both too head strong.
“Get out on that field, we have one job and it's to catch that unsub. Get it done, and we will talk later. Do I make myself clear?” and when he got no reply “that is an order. Agent Morgan do i make myself clear”
“Whatever you say, boss” Morgan grounded out, turning on his heel and storming out the door. That was his first mistake, letting Morgan go out already angry. He would rush to get to the front lines. They were already heading out to catch their unsub. Hotch did not miss the worried glances from their team.
He had heard it on the intercoms, the moment Morgan had miscalculated and unsub had slammed him against a wall, fist swinging wildly, nearly missing his face as he stumbled away. The team calls to morgan through the coms, Emily and Rossi already on their way to him with JJ, Hotch and Reid not too far behind. Morgan was roughly thrown to the ground, the unsub kicking him square in the ribs hard, just before Derek could regain leverage.
The fighting seems to go on forever before a gunshot ends the brawl and the unsub falls to the ground. Derek is taken to an ambulance, they check over him, bandaging his ribs, treating any cuts. None of that matters much though, not until they reach the hotels, and hotch lightly requests for morgan to join him to his room, under the illusion that they needed to talk.
The walk up to the elevator was tense, and so was the walk to hotch’s room door. He opens it and allows Derek to walk in first. He looks around the small hotel room as if it's not the same as every holiday inn that you can pass by. He immediately commits the entire layout to memory. Years of being in the FBI his brain instantly finds possible routes of escape or weapons he could use against a mystery intruder. The bathroom was to their left, a shower after a full day of work would be fantastic…and one of these minibars has to have alcohol. The promise of a conversation was inevitable, but he hoped Hotch wouldn't make them have it sober and filthy.
As if reading his mind, Hotch waves his hands towards the shower and tells Derek he can shower first if he liked, he pushes past him and starts up a small coffee maker sitting in the corner of the room. He tilts his head in question. Coffee, but no alcohol…at least he got to shower. With a nod he mutters “dont forget the sugar” over his shoulder as he retreats into the bathroom.
—----------------
Derek is a profiler, he can predict and plan for many things. He prides himself on that.
Absolutely nothing in the universe could prepare him for hotch to walk out the bathroom shirtless, dripping water with loose black sweatpants fitted around his waist. Coffee sloshes in his cup, landing hot on his skin and he jumps. Snapping his gaze from hotch and pointedly down on the ground.
“Sorry, i thought i grabbed my shirt” and sure enough, a white shirt sat alone on the bed. “You okay?” Chocolate eyes dart up and back down. They've shared rooms before. Never in that time has hotch been shirtless around him. No, he was far from okay. “Your hand, did you burn it?”
“What?” He cringes, he sets the coffee down and shakes it dry, it stung, but it wasn't unbearable, to be honest he had forgotten all about it. Hotch came to stand in front of him, and from this closeness, it was almost impossible not to stare. Taking his hand gently in his own, his eyes soft, but they were not looking at Derek's wound but rather assessing his face. The way he thickly swallowed, how his fingers twitched as if he yearned to reach out and feel the others' bare skin under his fingers.
“We have to talk, Morgan” his own voice was as breathless as Derek looked, and as if in a trance, his hand reached out, his fingers timidly– faintly running over a scar that stretches across Hotch abdomen. Just as fast as it happened Derek quickly attempts to retract his hand, clearing his throat, an apology on the tip of his tongue until hotch snatched his wrist forwards again.
“You can touch me, Morgan, I don't mind” he pulls Derek's hand until the tension in his posture ceases and he flats his palm over his stomach.
Hard, but not because of overwork, light abs painted his stomach enough to show he does care for his physique just not as passionately as Derek does day in and day out. Muscles constrict under his palm the more he explores, running over that scar, and then dancing further up, to his sides and then right back to the center. He was nervous, Hotch could tell it, not sure how far he could go, or if this was already out of bounds.
The look on dereks face was something Hotch wanted to commit to memory forever. How could he ever go back to being acquaintances with someone he's afraid will plague his dreams forever. This is more than putting feeling out. All the traffic in his head has gone crazy, when all he wants to do is trust his heart right now. If it meant betting on them, and possibly destroying everything they've built, then he'd still go all in and double down, this is not something he wants to forget and write over.
But if he's wrong….
He pressed Derek's hand harder against him. He searches for those caramel eyes in the darkness of the room, illuminated now just by one light.
“Tell me you're feeling what I'm feeling”
It was more than mindless lust. Hotch can see that now. He wants something more, something he's not sure Derek could ever give him. He'd gamble this once, he'd speak a language Derek is far more used to than candlelight dinners and romantic poems. He'd let their bodies do the talking, and their lips convey the unspoken. He coaxes Derek to stand, and their bodies push backwards until they hit a wall. Never breaking eye contact, Derek's hand never leaves Hotch's skin.
Once again, they find themselves woefully compromised. Breaths mingling as hotch drags Derek's hand down, so low Derek can't help but follow the movement.
Derek's brain was about to short circuit when Hotch's free hand lifted his chin up to look at him, exactly at the moment when Derek’s covered the growing bulge hidden behind sweatpants. Not knowing what to do was not an option for Derek, so he just did nothing, waiting to see what Hotch would offer.
“You act like you've never seen another man naked before” hotch chuckles in the space between them. Attempting to provide humor to the situation, and enough time for Derek to back out. Time for him to gather his bearings and walk out that door. “Do you want this?” Want me. Was the unsaid.
Derek didn’t reply, just pressed his hand into Hotch's dick, softly, barely applying any pressure, but in an attempt to distract. It worked, if only for a second. Hotch letting out a sigh of pleasure, licking over his lips but his question still stood.
“Derek, you have to tell me”
And fuck hotch for always demanding he make the final choice, a choice that could change everything. He could never just-
Derek pulled hotch closer by his waist, pulling them together, their lips meeting in a slow passionate kiss. Everything seemed so surreal and exactly as it was meant to be at the same time. Derek felt hands wrap around his middle, tugging, trying to close whatever little distance was left, while he entangled his fingers in hotch hair, pulling at the strands, hotch groans into his mouth, biting Derek's bottom lip , shooting electricity down his spine- how could he have missed out on this for so long?
He pushes hotch off of him, and before hotch can ask what was wrong, he was flipping their position, shoving hotch rough against the wall making the entire room rattle and comes back with more fierce passion, this time when their lips meet its full of desperation. Derek puts his knee between Hotch's legs, hiking it up until Hotch moans into his mouth, gripping his shirt, his sides, hips, anything he can get to.
“Get on the bed” Hotch commands in a soft voice, not letting Derek have the upper hand, his push was lighter when he moved Derek in the direction of the bed. Derek stumbles back and his body hits the mattress, but he's not alone for long when hotch climbs on top of him, reclaiming his lips for just a second, before directing his attention to Derek's neck.
He mouths at his neck, leaving open mouth kisses and sucking on Derek's pulse in a way that has Derek gasping and his hips bucking up, leaving marks in brown skin that Derek hopes never fades. He rolls his hips just enough to show Hotch that he's enjoying this too, when the asshole stops.
Placing his hands on either side of Derek's head and stares down at him. “As much as I love where this is going, you still haven't answered me” he pants, “tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop right now. I need to hear you say it”
Derek glares, out of frustration, out of annoyance that hotch won't let that one thing go just for right now. But thats not how hotch is, and he'd never continue with even the slightest possibility that Derek would regret this later. That it'd hurt him more than anything.
Derek turns his head to the side, embarrassment coloring his cheeks brighter. “Yes” a mumble, and hardly audible.
“What was that?” A smile breaks across hotchs face, now that he's heard it, he wants to hear it again. He wants Derek to be more specific. Derek lightly hits his chest.
“I said yes dammit!” he pursed his lips, hoping that he looked like he felt — like sulking.
Hotch, on the other hand, was far too happy to hear it. He leaned lower, giving Derek another kiss, then a few on his cheek. Sort, gentle, the sort that Derek felt he did not deserve, but craved desperately.
He had imagined before in his head on nights he would rather die than think of right now, where him and hotch kiss sensually and “make love” like they talk about all the time in stories and dramatic love songs. But now that Hotch had taken time to undress them both, leaving them both horrifying naked--all those thoughts went out the window. It was hard not the moan from this knowledge alone, even if he wanted hotch to fight for every single sound he may produce.
Hotch wasn’t gentle. He bit, and led with a ferocity of a man who finally got something he craved. It was amazing to be wanted, and to be wanted by, and Derek wanted nothing more than to fight for control, but it was a losing game with how hotch seemed to engulf him.
“How do you want to do this?” Hotch whispered “i know….you haven't really done anything with a man…”
If only he’d stop asking questions.
“I’m already naked in your bed, can’t you come up with something?” Derek tried sounding bored, and ignored the obvious point in hotchs questioning but it came off as impatient.
Hotch smirk turned darker, cocky and completely sure of himself when he resumed his touches, pressing his dick between Derek's thighs. He leaned in, just enough to where his lips grazed the tips of Derek's ear.
“i asked you before, do you surrender to me, do you remember?” Derek felt a moan leave his throat and his dick twitch, he was desperate at this point. Hotch words sending heat pooling in his stomach.
“ I know what you want, Derek. Always have.”
Hotch's teeth found Derek's neck again, biting down harshly, and then licking up his neck in apology, Derek's hands came up to grip Hotch's sides, before they get tangled in the sheets as hotch made his way down his body. Nipping and kissing sensitive skin, grinning in the way Derek's body responds to him despite the man himself attempting to hold back. He wants to indulge in every part of Derek, kissing places that would normally go untouched. Paying attention to parts of his body he'd hide out of insecurity.
His hand trails down to palm at Derek's erection, he gasps out, back momentarily arching as he bites back his moan through gritted teeth. Hotch watches every reaction, drinking up the moment like it was warmed milk and honey. Delicious.
“What?” Derek grounds out through his teeth, failing so hard at hiding how good he feels.
“You're so pretty, it's hard not to stare” Derek lets out a huffed laugh, meant to sound like a mock, but comes out breathy
“What are you, a sap now?” hotch raises an eyebrow, but does not answer, instead he brings fingers to Derek's lips.
“We don't have lube” running the fingers over Derek's lips, he gives hotch an affronted look. Derek tries to sit up, that challenge hotch had seen just a day ago in that gym shining in his eyes. Derek was going to fight him tooth and nail.
“If you think-” Hotch pushes him back firmly against the bed.
“I do think, and you will” he doesn't wait for Derek's answer, and instead shoves three fingers in the other's mouth. Curling them up, running them along his tongue, and just like he expected, Derek bites down on the digits, hard enough to draw blood, it doesn't stop hotch in the slightest, now their fight was for dominance. He wraps his free hand around Derek's neck and squeezes. Watching the way Derek's eyes become hazy, his breathing shallow. Hotch's eyes darken seeing Derek's reaction, he pulls his fingers out of his mouth to kiss him fiercely
Derek's long legs wrap around Hotch's as he starts pulling at Hotch's back while they grind against each other. Hotch's hand moves to grip Derek's hip as their tongues entangle. Derek's hand finding its way to Hotch's hair, tugging on it as a familiar mix of safety & arousal fills his veins with Hotch's hand around his neck. Derek leans into that feeling, using his legs to pin Hotch tightly against him & biting impatiently at Hotch lips. Hotch offers a low growl in response, biting back, Derek only groans into his mouth. Hotch pulls back, a small "brat" slipping from his lips. But Derek sees the glint in Hotch's eyes, the dangerous smirk across his face.
He sticks those same fingers in his own mouth and keeps eye contact as he circles Derek's rim, pushing one finger in slowly after Derek gives him a slow nod. Two follows soon after, and then three, fingers scissoring Derek open and leaving him gasping for air.
His fingers search for Derek's G-spot. Derek's inexperience with men was evident. At least enough to where he began to stare down at hotch like he lost his damn mind. What're you doing?" He opened his eyes again and looked at Hotch. "I can feel you, Dude. You're trying to draw me a map for later or what?" He could feel the finger stroking him from the inside, deliberate but restless. It felt good enough, and Derek felt like he was ready enough.
His fingers curl and poke and prod until he gets the reaction he was looking for. gentle pressure and his whole body arched, his voice loud with surprise and delight and the heat in his veins gained more urgency and eagerness and heaviness. "Fuck was that?", he asked sucking in a breath.
Hotch grinned at him bright and all teeth. "Found it.” He definitely found something.
"How did you do that?" His hips already moved towards the fingers. They should do it again.
"Its not a secret, Derek. Will you relax now? I know what I'm doing." moved his finger again. Running over the spot cutting off Derek's next question. Apparently, he knew exactly what he was doing and if Derek's brain would be working, he'd probably be freaking out about this. But right now, he was too busy with all the sensations that flooded his body and mind: heat and delight and happiness and desire. This was amazing. Jerking off didn't come close
His muscles trembled under Hotch's hand, rubbing over his stomach and his sides. "You okay?"
Derek nodded, panting. "I'm fine", this time he sincerely meant it. A smile on Hotch's lips, then he kissed him again. "Wanna go to the next step?” Another nod and a deep breath to collect himself again. "You have a trick for that, too?"
"No tricks." Hotch shifted his position slightly and Derek snuck a glance down. He swallowed slowly, the gravity of his really hitting him now. As always everybody was waiting on him. "But it might sting a little.”
A little was an understatement of the century. Hotch laughs a little at his face.
“Dont worry, I'll take care of you” always the hero.
“You say that to every girl?” Derek was hardly one to talk, but he needed something to do to clear his nerves, and banter was about all he had.
“Just the ones i like” hotch hums, way to amused, he lines himself up, waiting.
“So charming of you”
“I do what i can”
“Fine, okay, im ready”
Hotch pushes in, slowly and carefully.
Derek would've assumed to feel more resistance. But the so-called little sting, he felt loud and clear. "Shit", he hissed and his muscles tensed. He pulled at Hotch's shoulders, digging his nails into the skin and buried his face in the crook of his friend's neck. "Fuck, Hotch ..."
"Shh", Hotch nuzzled into his hair, "Shh, I got you." He put his arms around Derek and rubbed his neck softly. "Breathe, shh, i need you to breath, Derek”
Derek inhaled and exhaled, forcing his body to relax as hotch slid all the way in. It hurt, but the pain slowly turned into pleasure as hotch began to slowly rock into him, running his fingers over his erection, and over his hips and thighs. Kissing his lips, shoulders, anything he could reach. He sets a slow pace a first, not wanting to hurt Derek as he buries his face in Derek's neck, groaning.
“you feel so good-”
“Stop” Derek gasps out, afraid that every word hotch says will embed itself in his mind, and he'd become obsessed with the way the words leave Hotch's lips, but hotch doesn't stop, more praise falls from his mouth, words Derek would never allow himself to believe.
“Look me in my eyes” Hotch says suddenly, gripping Derek's chin and forcing their eyes to meet “so hot. So sexy, look so good taking all of me "Derek whines low in his throat at the words, nails mark thorny lines in hotchs back. Hotch speeds up, the head board bangs against the wall behind them but neither sees to care.
Derek tracks his hands up and wraps one around hotchs neck, and pulls him down until their lips meet. He could get high off this feeling, drunk on it. He squeezes hotch neck, biting his lip until he draws blood and feasts on the sweet red liquid that comes from the abuse. Hotch twitches inside of him, hips now snapping forward in a brutal pace, pushing them both further up on the bed, he shifts just enough to hit that spot that has Derek seeing stars. His mouth dropping open in a silent moan, vision blurring and ears ringing at the pleasure that comes crashing down on him. It's too much, and yet not enough.
“Beg me” hotch pants out suddenly “beg me to cum, i want to hear just how badly you need it. Need me”
He shakes his head, still defiant until the very end. He rocks down to meet hotch's thrusts, the sound of skin of skin and their moans feel the room, and yet none of it is enough to give Derek that last push. The heat curling in his gut is driving him crazy, he needs it so earnestly, but is way too stubborn to ask for it.
Hotch grabs his hands, prying the one around his neck off and pinning them both firmly to the bed. His rhythm becomes erratic, losing him too much, but he refuses to give them both the satisfaction they crave until Derek surrenders.
“Say it” hotch demands. Derek writhes, baring his teeth and fights against Hotch grip. He cages Derek under his body, letting go of one of his wrist to push it between their heated bodies and run his finger over Derek's aching cock. He gasps and jerks up chasing the feeling. “Say it, tell me i won, Derek” he whispers in his ear, wrapping his hand around derek, but not moving an inch. Tears form in dereks eyes, desperation clear. Defeat comes next.
“Please-”
“No, you can do better than that, Derek”
“Okay! You won! Please just-” Derek's eyes roll. His head hitting the pillows as hotch strokes him in time with his thrusts, it doesn't take long before Derek is spilling over with a loud satisfied groan, arching his back and pushing his hips up riding out his orgasm.
Hotch follows soon after him, burying his moan and Derek's name in his neck, biting down on his shoulder to muffle some of it.
They lay in a heap of tiredness and sweat, heavy breathing and breathless laughter.
“Fuck, Aaron…” derek laughs, pushing at the others shoulder. Hotch rolls over, meeting Derek's eyes, now all of a sudden feeling very shy.
“You good?”
“I'm more than good” Derek runs a hand over his face. He could do that dozens of times and never be bored. “But…i think i need another shower…”
Hotch cringes, having forgotten that he should've pulled out…they didn't even think of condoms. “Yeah…” hotch breaths “me too”