Please read authors note! =)
A/N I do not own Criminal Minds. This was supposed to be a simple one-shot to a song, but my Muse has other plans. The song is Wasp by Motionless in White. I know it might not be everyone's cup of tea (it's also a little long), but please give the song a chance, and listen to it before you read because it really sets the mood for this story. I promise it will be worth it! And don't worry my other stories will be updated soon, I just had to get this out of my head.
Warning: Strong Sexual Situations & Coarse Language
Please, enjoy!
Acidic Lipstick
Beginning:
A bolt of lightning split the night sky, reverberating with a thunderous clap – drenching their hideaway in torrential rain; diamond ring catching rays of the flashing neon lights – glimmering against her hand that clutched the sheet, smashing her head into the pillow; a strangled scream escaping her tainted ruby lips.
"Please," she gritted out; begging – clenching her internal walls, faltering his rhythm.
Growling with territorial pride; grasping blonde locks of hair – knowing how much he loved those longs curls; his favorite color against her alabaster skin was emerald as it brought out the flecks of gold in those dazzling hazel eyes – slowing his thrusts, yanking on her now shoulder length hair; glaring at the dark green highlight she had knowingly put in the day before.
Challenging him; even as he regrettably walked her down the aisle…because that's what friends do.
Though friends, with devotion for each other as deep as the river flowing through Egypt and as vast as the galaxy is effortlessly timeless – don't do this – this carnal desperation, so animalistic in nature; fighting for their survival – stitching their fractured hearts back together; one shredded, bleeding piece at a time. It was...
Fucking.
In a cheap hotel room.
After she said 'I do', to another man.
For Penelope Garcia…was now – Mrs. Kevin Lynch.
The sore muscle inside his chest constricted, propelling his hips to slam harder into her – ignoring her sharp cry as she writhed against him.
"Fu-uck…Hot Stu-," releasing her hair to slap her ass – stinging the palm of his hand; leaving a red print on her pale skin. Satisfied with her smothered whimper as she panted beneath him; grunting and moaning – sending shock waves to his throbbing dick.
Derek, wasn't in the mood for endearing nicknames that held years of broken promises – because right now, in this moment – having kissed, tasted, and sheathed himself deep within her, only to discover a glimpse of heaven…he was fully aware that he was going to lose it all.
So no, they didn't have time for slow and sweet; to be Good Ol' Garcia and Morgan – not when he had something to prove; needing to remind her what she had thrown away – ruining their future, by giving it away to someone else.
The tulle and lace of Penelope's ivory gown remained bunched around her waist, grazing over his bare thighs – slick heat enveloping him, as he rocked into her from behind – fingers digging half-moons into the soft flesh of her hips, commanding her body for his pleasure.
Quivering legs, spreading just a little wider; gripping the brass rods of the headboard as she pushed back against him.
"I'm so…fucking…close…" she groaned – dirty words eliciting a smirk from his lips; he had always known she would be a little vixen with a sailor mouth in bed, their phone conversations had proven that.
Catching sight of her hand; his eyes narrowing at the cheap, puny rock as she let go of the headboard to slip between her legs.
Oh, nu-uh Princess…you're gonna cum, when I want you to. He thought to himself as he pulled completely out of her; arching an amused brow when she whipped her head around, glaring at him.
Tugging on the heavy material of her gown – not giving two-shits he broke the zipper that was snug over the swell of her ass even as she cried in protest; peeling it away from her and flinging it across the room where it landed unceremoniously by the bathroom door. Nostrils flaring as his eyes roamed her nearly bare body – growling when he felt hot liquid seep out of his pulsing member, his flared head nearly purple with longing.
Grabbing Penelope's waist he flipped her over onto her back; flashing his teeth as the heart shaped pendant sparkled and bounced in the valley of her tits – taking a deep breath; heated amber eyes perusing the Goddess before him.
Starting at the top of her head – from the halo of sun-kissed curls tangled with her crooked lavender floral coronet; flushed cheeks and bruised ruby lips, to her hickey covered neck and collarbone – a heaving chest that sat atop her smooth rounded belly, to a newly waxed sex that was perfectly framed by the lace of her white garter belt still holding up silk stockings.
Fuck, was she beautiful.
Working his way back up from her dainty ankles, curved calves and lush thighs, he spotted the tiny red indents from the harsh boning of her corset; marring the pale skin along her sides.
Reminding him instantly of the moment when she had stepped out of the dressing room and into the hallway, where he was waiting to escort her down the aisle; a gem that would forever be imprinted in the darkest recesses of his mind – looking every delectable inch of the angel he knew her to be.
His God given solace sent from heaven to forever haunt him on Earth.
_ Flashback: Early Evening _
Wringing her hands, nibbling that plump bottom lip – she stood before him, eyes darting around the room; landing on the exit behind him.
He didn't have to be a profiler to know she was nervous, that she wasn't the confidant Baby Girl he knew her to be. Gritting his teeth, cursing the man who stood at the altar because he didn't do his fucking job and show her every day how incredible she truly was.
"Derek?" she whispered and if he hadn't been watching her so intently, he would have missed it.
"Hmm?" he had yet to find his voice, stepping closer to her.
"How do…I look?" a faint rosy hue bloomed across her cheeks. "Is it okay?"
They had already had this discussion several times throughout the last few months; the issue being that this wasn't the wedding dress she wanted – this was the only dress her dipshit of a fiancé liked. Being her Man of Honor, he had spent countless hours encouraging her to get that princess ball gown she had dreamt about since she was seven.
But no, Garcia was a people pleaser – pleasing everyone but Morgan, for the last six years.
He had listened to phone calls filled with her voice cracking; sniffling as she tried not to cry about another argument over some wedding detail she had wanted – that the couple couldn't really afford, or that Lynch had gotten annoyed with.
So, not wanting to make any more hassles, she wore the mermaid gown that cinched her waist to unbreathable proportions, hiked her tits up – flaunting the large lily white orbs, with cleavage he wanted to delve between and never resurface from…and though he had to admit she was beautiful, it wasn't a Garcia dress.
But he sure as hell wasn't going to make her cry before he took her hand and walked her down the pink petal rug to the man she had chosen. Taking his title to heart, he wrapped her into a tight embrace; closing his eyes when she molded perfectly against him – a striking contrast of soft curves and hard plains, that begged to be touched.
Breathing in the floral peach scent that was his best friend, he gently rubbed her back; taking a step away when she finally relaxed and quickly dabbed underneath her eyes. Lifting her chin; thumb tracing the skin beneath her glistening ruby lips – fingers delicately entwining into her hair, swallowing his growl when he discovered that emerald curl.
They locked eyes; amber and hazel – smoldering with such blistering intensity it would surely leave its mark. Twirling the soft green strand; biting his cheek, before forcing a smile.
"You look stunning," though he wasn't happy, in fact he was downright miserable – but Derek Morgan wasn't a liar.
She had opened those doors, and took his breath away.
"Thank you Angel Fish," she sniffled, giggling though it lacked any mirth.
The bells and chimes rang inside the chapel, followed by the piano playing the wedding march.
Penelope gasped, clutching his hand – looking once more towards the exit.
"I love you!"
He hadn't meant to spear his heart and offer it to her – yet, he had shouted it, could still hear his ears ringing with his confession; stomach churning into knots.
Standing there, watching her eyes widen; pain and hurt flashing across her face – a fresh batch of tears gathering, unable to blink them away.
"I love you too, Hot Stuff."
To be continued...