A/N: Still haven't abandoned Fabrications, just can't think of anything good for it at the moment. Please bear with me in waiting for it to come out, and in the mean time, read this, erm, 'lovely' little Criminal Minds fic.
Warnings: Slash; hints at non-con; OOC-Hotch - This is a one-shot, no sequel.
Hotch watched silently as the body beneath him writhed and shook in tremors. He smiled lightly when Reid cried out. "Please... Hotch..." Hotch closed his eyes and allowed his smile to develop into a grin. He loved where he was at in his life.
When thought about logically, being around dead people, weapons, and other such necessities that came with the job, he really shouldn't love where he was in his life. In fact, he should hate it. After all, his family and friends didn't approve. They couldn't approve. They just didn't understand.
He bent down and gave the young man a kiss, to which Reid bit the man's lip, but not enough to draw blood. Hotch smiled and leaned back, tracing his hand down Spencer's jaw. "You're feisty tonight. Better than the last three."
Spencer, oh god yes. Spencer Reid, IQ of 187, can read 20,000 words per minute, one hell of a chess player, and one of the sexiest men alive. He was especially sexy when he pouted, which he was doing now as he looked up to Hotch from underneath his lashes. "Please." He begged again.
"Uh uh uh." Hotch said, not opening his eyes. "You know the rules."
No sound was emitted from the young man again for a few minutes. He did, in fact, know the rules, and the rules were very simple. One, don't beg; two, don't scream; and three, listen to what Hotch has to say. Reid took in a shaking breath and looked up to the man again. "Why... why did you leave us?"
Hotch tilted his head to the side and the grin faded some. "Because I couldn't explore who I was at the BAU." He answered simply. "Not to mention my job now lets me stay home when I want. Haley would be proud if she were still alive. Sure I still have to deal with dead bodies and people chasing me, but at least now I can work within my own hours."
Reid swallowed audibly and nodded to show he understood. He shivered as Hotch ran a finger down his bare chest and his knees involuntarily shot inwards. Had he been standing and not tied to the bed, he would have fallen. "Why do you call this a j-job." Reid asked. "You don't get paid."
Hotch's grin returned and he leaned over the younger man. "The looks on your faces are all the payment I need." He whispered as he trailed something cold down Reid's stomach. He sat back up to where he was straddled over the man and a glint of silver caught Reid's attention, causing his eyes to widen some.
"Faces?" The genius asked. "You've d-done this to other people?"
"Oh yes." Hotch informed him, running the blade of his favorite knife along his thumb lightly. "I had to practice."
Reid started shaking again as his brain processed the information. "Is that what happened to... to.."
"To Prentiss and Morgan?" Hotch finished for him, receiving a nod. "Yes. I never did like them much, and don't forget about Strauss, she was my Friday appointment. But you, I like you. That's why you're here right now and not with the others." He said, fixing his gaze on Reid's nude form. "I like you quite a lot. Don't you like me?"
Spencer closed his eyes and grappled with all of the courage he could. "I used to."
Hotch's eyebrows narrowed in anger and he leaned back over the young man, pressing the blade right up against Reid's jaw. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Reid whimpered and another tremor went through his body. "It means that I liked you before I found out you were... were... like this." He said with every ounce of bravery he didn't really feel that he had.
"Like what?" Hotch asked, moving his face in close.
Reid gulped. "Like one of our unsubs."
Hotch leaned back again. "Ah there it is, the magic word. Unsub. Unknown Subject. But I'm not really an unsub, now am I? After all, you know who I am quite well, as does the rest of the team. In fact, I dare say you all know me better than anyone else in the world. What is it we all used to say? 'You have to think like a serial killer to catch a serial killer.' I guess that's why we're so good at it, because deep down, every single person on that team is."
"That's not true!" Reid yelled, wiggling a bit as he tried to escape.
Hotch sighed in mock-exasperation and used one of his hands to bring Reid's face up as far as it would go. "But it is Spencer, and you know it. We've all killed at least one person, even you. Sure you call it self defense, but murder is murder. I like you Spence, but you're proving to be much less... cooperative than you should be. I don't think this is gonna work out."
In the flash of an eye, Reid felt something cold and hard pierce into his stomach. He began hyperventilating when he looked down and saw Hotch's hand twisting a bit and slicing open his skin with that damn knife, the knife he had bought for Hotch for the bastard's birthday 2 years ago. He watched in horror as his entrails poked out of the hole in his stomach and lifted his shaking head to look Hotch in the eye.
Hotch watched silently as the body beneath him writhed and shook in tremors. He smiled lightly when Reid cried out. "Please... Hotch..." Hotch closed his eyes and allowed his smile to develop into a grin. He loved where he was at in his life.