Author's Note: Not much to say other than the fact that I enjoyed writing this, even though it's a lot shorter than I hoped it would be. It took me a pitifully long time to develop a plot line for the prompt 'exercise', and even now, the plot is seriously thin (borderline nonexistent?). But that being said, I sincerely hope you all enjoy reading this little foray of mine!

Hotchityhotchhotch, I hope I didn't completely ruin any expectations you may have had for this prompt. I apologize in advance. BUT HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.

Emily woke slowly, her eyes fluttering open then immediately shutting as the all-too-bright morning sunshine wandered into the bedroom.

His bedroom.

It was at that thought that she blindly reached for his warm body, moaning slightly - yet sultrily, too - as she rolled over to his side of the bed.

…but he wasn't there.

Opening her eyes once more, Emily blinked a couple times before her vision cleared.

"Aaron?"

Her voice was thick with sleep, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The sheets on his side were cold with disuse and tucked under the mattress snugly.

She glanced over at the digital clock perched atop the nightstand. He'd woken up and made the bed, and it wasn't even eight yet?

Propping herself up on her elbows, Emily groaned quietly as her muscles protested. Instantly, she was transported back to the previous night. It was their weekend off and they had spent a good hour or so drinking fine wine and pouring over old yearbooks and pictures from their youth.

And then they had made love right there in the middle of his living room for the rest of the night, the mesmerizing flames in the fireplace roaring behind them.

It was a wonder her body was in the condition to work at all, really; this she thought as she forced herself out of the warm confines of the bed, threw on an old tee-shirt of his and her favorite sweats, and then set off on her search for Aaron Hotchner.

It took her less than a minute of wandering to find him in his main room, setting down a pair of weights on the floor.

Weights?

Emily continued watching him from behind, her interest piquing and her body flooding with a pleasurable warmth as Hotch dropped to the ground and began a set of push-ups. His back was to her, and as she looked closer, she saw that he was listening to an album on his iPod, meaning that he was in his own little world…and blissfully unaware of her self-indulgent, voyeuristic tendencies.

With each bend of his built arms, she could see the muscles in his perfectly straight back cord then ripple. His shirt was plastered to his skin, a slight sheen of sweat was developing on the back of his neck…and oh God, his breathing was getting heavy and he was beginning to pant like he had done just that night…

She shook her head to clear it. Calm yourself, Emily. Deep breaths...

Hotch continued with the exercise for five minutes more, before rising to his full height and letting a deep grunt slip past his lips. Finally remembering that she wasn't permanently rooted to the floor, Emily surprised him by approaching and wrapping her arms around his fit waist from behind.

She revealed in his shocked gasp, then smiled as he quickly removed the headphones from his ears and craned his neck to look at her properly. "So, this is why I felt a six-pack last night," she practically purred, a beautifully mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Who would have known that stiff, stoic Agent Hotchner is hiding a gorgeous body underneath all of his perfectly starched suits?"

"Who would have known?" he echoed playfully, finally turning to face her and give her a gentle, lovely kiss. "Good morning," he said against her lips.

"Good morning," Emily returned, letting out a pleased sigh. She motioned to his exercise attire and the array of different sized weights on the floor. "What's all this for? You training for a triathlon?" she teased.

"Not quite," he grinned. "More like I want to impress you and maintain a healthy blood pressure."

"Well, consider me impressed."

Hotch took her hand and peppered kisses along her knuckles, knowing she was thinking of their deliciously sinful night activities; it was all he could think of, too. He cocked his head toward the kitchen. "You hungry? I can make a mean breakfast, or so Jack says."

"Maybe later," she shrugged, moving so that her arms were still wrapped around him. "I'm actually not hungry right now."

"In that case…do you want to go for a jog around the block with me? I'll bring my bike and we can alternate…"

Emily glanced up at him, a mirthful expression on her face. "I'd love to, but my body's kind of sore; you wore me out last night, Aaron," she chuckled, her voice clearly laced with innuendo.

Hotch couldn't help it; his heart swelled with pride at her breathy admission. But still, he persisted. "Please? You could just walk around the block with me instead of jogging or biking." His voice fell quieter. "I just really enjoy your company," he tacked on with those killer dimples and a smile, which she promptly returned.

"Okay," she said after a momentary beat of silence. "I'll go jogging with you on one condition."

"And that condition is?"

She grinned wickedly, thinking of a specific yearbook picture of an athletic high school Hotch in bike gear that she had especially fawned over. "If you bring the bike, you have to wear spandex."

THE END.

Author's Note: Like it? Love it? Absolutely hate it? Please drop me a line and tell me how I did! Thanks in advance. :)

Also, the FINAL Profiler's Choice Awards ballot is up! I cannot tell you how grateful I am; Daddy's Little Girl got nominated for Best Hotch/Emily, and Memento Mori got nominated for Best Post-Ep. I'm truly honored. If you have the time and would like to vote, the ballot and rules are at the short link here (copy/paste and remove the spaces):

d . pr/N11A

Ballots are due November 30th! And again, thank you all so very much. :)