I really like Spencer and Criminal Minds. So, since I'm trying to translate my fics from spanish, I want to give this a chance.

Note: Keep in mind this is one of my firsts fics translated to English, therefore can be grammatical errors, misspellings and that sort of things. So, if you have a comment, suggestion or advice, please feel free to do it. I'll appreciate it and make the corresponding corrections. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Circumvolutions.

"You're beautiful."

Is that what you're saying? Your eyes seem to whisper it, even when your mouth can't. Because they're open, maybe too much, while my semi-naked body is expose right in front of you. And I can feel myself blushing, like when I was just a teenager; blushing.

"You are".

I approach to you, only in my underwear and a very vaporous blouse; one that can't prevent the heat. You tremble a little, at the touch of my skin in your neck, evading my own gaze, like a child. And I'm feeling so perverse, yes, perverse, untying your deep blue tie; so I can free you a bit.

"What are you doing?"

Your hands are unconsciously moving, like your lips. Which side of the brain control that, Spencer? Those erratic and unconscious movements that makes you fuzzy and unstable to the feminine touch of my fingers. Which one?

"C'mon". I whisper in your ear, pulling you slowly to me. You're so shy, Spencer, and, even when I think you know it, I love that.

My mouth change of position so I can give you a kiss, extremely close to the end of your lips. One millimeter or less of distance, and you smile. Smile, responding to the stimulus, like I thought. Which circumvolution can handle those muscles of your smile?

"But..."

I open the buttons of your shirt, slowly, looking at you. You're so hot. Destroyed. Disarm. What are you going to do now, Spencer? Now that the statistics can't help you and tell you what to do; now that there isn't a established pattern. What?

So, I hold on the last button and you close your eyes, really tight. It looks like you don't want this, for someone strange; but I know you, very well, fully. How could you erase the memories stored between the furrows of your mind? Could you? Would you?

"Kiss me".

And you do it; you bend a little, not so much, and you kiss me. Kisses with the taste of honey and coffee. Sweet, bitter, contradictories. How can you define the taste of something so different, like yourself? You kiss me and slide your fingers, too long, too tin, under the soft and transparent fabric that pretend to cover my body but fail in the attempt.

I contract my body, in a reflex action; feeling your cold touch by my dorsal spine. It could be a normal response? Are you thinking in the nerves that you just touched? It could be? You stop your movements, afraid of hurt me; but you couldn't. You know it.

"I..."

You whisper words between my own lips, drowning you, without air; still with your eyes closed, like if you where thinking how to resolve the puzzle. The puzzle that is making love. I help you a little more, losing your belt while the jeans slides down the white and tin legs of you.

Your hands up, inexpert and fragile, like no other ones that had been passed through there. Unique, like you. Thinking, curious, all up and down the curves; by the line of the neck until they touch the jaw. Your eyes, closed, your attention direct in every single mark of my skin. Every scar, every nerve, everything. Cold fingertips that make me shudder at the slightly touch.

"I love you".

You say, kissing me again, caressing my belly and smelling my hair.

"I love you".

You say, when your pulse increased and the heat started to emanate from you, drops running for your naked torso, and your mouth prays mine, without letting me the option to escape from you.

"I love you".

You say, when you put yourself on your feet and, without notice it, I do it too. And you take me in your arms, with a strange strength for you, the eyes closed and the hands in my back; until we collapsed with the walls, making the building to vibrate. Are you still thinking about the neurochemical reaction that defines love, Spencer? Could you tell me about the neurotransmitters that generate the emotion colliding with your throat? Could you?

"I love you".

You say, while a whisper dies in my lips and the tears freely and silently runs through my face. What have you done with me, Spencer?

"I love you".

You say again, and again, finally opening your eyes and giving me that gaze, that has nothing of sweet nor kind, nor inexpert, nothing. You look at me, smiling with the chestnut orbs almost closed in a malicious grimace.

And I, I can't do anything but believe you.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

So, that's all.

I hope you enjoyed it!

If that's the case (or not) you can leave a review.

Thanks for reading.