A/N: Okay, I got bored and decided to give the smut another go. But at the same time, I got lazy and used Jealous!Reid, because it's so much easier. I'm sure Spencer Reid is a sexual being, but it's very difficult to write in character! Anyways, I'd love some feedback, enjoy.
Spencer Reid wasn't a jealous person, honestly. Most of the time he didn't see the point in being jealous, either you were confident enough in your relationship to know that another person couldn't get in the way, or maybe your significant other was better off with someone else. Either way, usually, Reid couldn't quite figure out how jealousy worked into that equation.
But Spencer Reid hated Mick Rawson. Maybe hate wasn't a strong enough word, no Spencer Reid loathed him, damned him to the frozen depths of the ninth ring of hell, with Cassius, Brutus and Judas to be chewed on by Satan himself for all of eternity. And Spencer wasn't even religious.
It had taken him a few days to figure out exactly why he hated the man. In all honesty, the guy seemed nice enough, and was pleasant enough to Reid to make his stomach churn with guilt, but it went away the moment Mick Rawson talked to Emily.
Mick Rawson with his annoyingly suave British accent, and dashing facial hair and charismatic personality, no Spencer couldn't help but hate him. Because Mick Rawson was everything that Emily had always thought she had wanted. He was ruggedly handsome and endlessly charming, everything that Spencer was not. And Spencer couldn't help but clench his fists, knuckles turning white as he watched Mick Rawson hit on HIS girlfriend. But all he could do was sit there quietly, helplessly, because he and Emily had agreed to keep quiet about their relationship.
And that meant she couldn't tell Mick that she was seeing someone, because that would arouse suspicion, and from the smile on her face, Spencer wasn't even sure if she would have given the opportunity, because she seemed quite content talking to the Casanova. Spencer didn't even notice as he subconsciously started to grind his teeth together, bile rising in his throat as he thought about his Emmy with someone else.
So when she came home that night, to his cottage that she had unofficially moved into, he was waiting for her. His glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, legs crossed as he sat on the leather sofa reading a book. She sank into the cushion next to him, resting a head on his shoulder. "Garcia and JJ are exhausting," she commented lightheartedly, seemingly oblivious to the deep frown on Spencer's face.
"Oh you were out with the girls?" He asked mildly, his concentration still focused on the book, turning page after page, finger dancing down each line as his hazel eyes took in every word instantly.
"Where else would I be?" Emily questioned with a slight frown, lifting her head off his shoulder to look at him. Only then did she notice the frown, and the deep furrow of his brow. He was radiating anger, and as a profiler, Emily was stunned that she hadn't noticed before, because she could literally feel his mood.
"I don't know, gallivanting off with some BAU profiler with a charming British accent?" Reid replied, a sardonic edge in his tone that made even the ever compartmentalized Emily flinch. "Or is that scheduled for tomorrow night? Or did he just tear off your panties in the bar before you met up with the girls?"
Emily couldn't help but crack a grin; she wasn't quite as fearful, now that she knew what he was angry about. "Actually, I told him to fuck off," she replied lightly, "You know, he's not really my type." She shrugged. "Too much muscle, too much fur," she brushed a hand over Spencer's cheek.
"Really, it seemed like you two were getting along pretty great," Spencer commented the anger ebbing from his voice. "And he seemed just like your type, all those... Viper like men you've gone out with," he tilted his head forward, lips only centimeters from hers.
"Well you know, I've got this really great guy that I can't tell anyone about, so once in a while I have to humble the girls, let them think that I'm considering, well all the while, I'm thinking about going home and tearing the sweater vest and khakis off my boyfriend," she smirked before pressing her lips to his in a heated kiss.
In mere moments, Spencer was straddling Emily as she sprawled out on the dark leather sofa, her hair fanning out almost angelically, and it didn't take long for him to tug both of their shirts off. He pressed another bruising kiss to her lips as he unhooked her bra with one hand, the other very indiscreetly placed on her inner thigh. Biting back a throaty moan, Emily broke the kiss, her breath labored and erratic. "Spencer," she breathed out, "if I had known that you'd get this jealous, I would have found someone to talk to a long time ago," she smirked slightly, lifting her hips off of the sofa to grind them against his tented khakis.
Spencer's breath hitched, letting out a little squeak that let Emily know exactly what she was doing to him, and he struggled to retain composure. "No talking, Emmy, tonight you're mine," he breathed into her ear, before nipping her earlobe.
"I always am," she replied honestly, her eyes drifting downwards as she unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of the loops before tossing it aside. He stopped her before she could move to the button on his pants however, and instead left a trail of soft kisses down her neck and abdomen, pausing above her waist to unbutton her jeans and slide them off her hips along with the lacy panties she was wearing. His gaze flicked upwards, asking permission despite his agitated mood. She nodded slightly, chest heaving with arousal.
Shifting slightly, he settled between her creamy white thighs, a soft smirk on his face. Spencer let out a soft, teasing breath, his grin widening as he heard the pleading whimper escape from Emily's mouth, and his tongue darted out, brushing against her already slick folds. She squirmed slightly, which only served to encourage him, and Spencer grazed his teeth over the sensitive nub, earning a delicious whimper. It wasn't a common occurrence, that sort of thing, Emily and Spencer didn't have much free time as it was, but he had an incredibly steep learning curve, and it didn't take that long before Emily's hips were arching off the couch, and Spencer eagerly lapped at her nectar.
Emily was panting softly as she peeled herself off the leather, and Spencer rose to meet her in another kiss, softer this time. "I love you," she mumbled as they broke apart. He just smiled; he already knew that, he'd had his wicked way with her; she was his.