So…how goes it?
Trying to perk my day up with some fic.
Fair warning.
This shall be smut (masturbation)… with a dash of angst.
If not you cup of tea, I won't be mad if you skip this fic.
No hard feelings,yeah?
Well lovelies, you know the drill.
Reid/review/enjoy
They were supposed to stop after you left him behind.
The dreams.
The ones that leave the sheets tangled and damp with sweat.
The ones that leave you breathless.
The ones that Savannah mistakes for nightmares.
You keep going with that lie because it's better than the guilt you feel when you admit it to yourself.
It was never that serious.
It was just a crush…
Lying to yourself again.
He means everything to you.
And you placate her, telling her to go back to sleep—sorry to disturb her.
The dirty dreams that leave your blood singing through your veins; that drive you out of bed.
Sometimes you throw on some pants and shoes, taking a walk around until your body calms down.
Sometimes it's too much and you have to…take care of it.
You'd hold yourself up in your office, the door latched for privacy.
Guilt settling in your bones as your warm hands slide over your skin, wishing they were someone else's.
Wishing they were his.
Biting your bottom lip as you struggle to hold back a groan; calloused fingertips rasp against your nipple. A deliberate touch.
Your breathing coming faster now as your other hand dips below the waistband of your sleep pants, knuckles brushing against the base of your hardening cock.
They were supposed to stop…these feelings. This ache was supposed to disappear.
You lift your butt off the seat, body thrumming with anticipation as you shuck off your pants, skin sticking to the leather seat as you settle again.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Your body craving another man's touch.
But he's more than any man.
He's your Pretty Boy.
And damn if that doesn't make you want to go to town; the guilt a faint rumble in the background as you go in for the first full touch.
Heat floods you; rich, silky-smooth as you palm your dick, starting the slow rhythm.
You push up in your chair as you chase the good feeling buzzing through your veins; beads of pre-come leaking over your knuckles.
You bite bottom lip, trying to smother the moans that threaten to escape.
Tension coils in your belly as you imagine him straddling your thighs, his weight anchoring you to the chair. Your hand on his pale skin, what a beautiful contrast it is.
Him pressing his forehead to your shoulder, hot puffs of breath against your neck as he twitches forward.
He reaches between the two of you, squeezes the base of your dick, not ready for you to come just yet.
Calloused fingertips traveling the head of your dick; he nips the side of your neck, leaving a trail of marks you wish would stay.
You are his.
You've got to keep quiet…she musn't hear.
You whine, one had gripping the armrest on your desk chair, the other clenching against his thigh.
And the feelings ratchet higher; a litany of muted curses and prayers spilling from parted lips. Your eyes squeezed shut as the tension grows taught.
It snaps; you come. Your mouth forms his name in a muted scream.
Reid. Spencer Reid.
Your dick twitches, body shaking as you spurt pearly ropes of cum on your belly; it drips down your knuckles.
He's rushing through your brain as you come down; your chest heaving as you slowly catch your breath.
You reach over with shaking hands, opening your top drawer in the desk and pull out some napkins, dabbing at the mess on your belly and hands.
Eventually you pull your clothes back on, face heated with shame.
You get ready for a shower in the guest room, not ready to slide back into bed with your wife. Not ready for the convenient lie of nightmares and her concerned looks.
She's a good woman who deserves better than this.
A married man in love with his best friend.
Your heart always belonged to him.
A/N: Whelp… porn-ish thing with *feelings*
Let me know what you think?