Author's Note: I've been wanting - no, aching - to write this story for forever. Well, not necessarily this particular story, but a story with all the following elements: a pregnant Emily, pickles and ice cream, baby kicks, and a hot massage from a certain dark haired SSAIC. So, finally...I put it all together and this little story was the result. I must warn you, though...it's entirely made of fluff. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its beautiful, perfect characters.

Blindly reaching for the warm, pliant, naked body of the woman he had previously been spooning, Hotch let out a tired moan. "Emily…Em, I need to kiss you…"

But his hand was met by cold sheets and no Emily.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he propped himself up on his elbows and forced his sleep-laden eyes open to search the spacious bedroom. Where was she?

It was then that he heard her pained groans coming from the adjoining master bathroom. He was up and out of bed in a split second, stumbling to her side and holding her hair back as she threw up her stomach contents in the sink.

"Hey," he murmured softly, rubbing soothingly random patterns on her back. "You alright?"

Emily nodded quickly, managing a "yeah, I'm fine," before wincing and emptying her stomach even further.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" He grimaced as she made a heart-wrenching sound and threw up some more. "Water, maybe?"

"Can you wet one of those…hand towels over there…with cold water?" she asked between dry heaves and desperate breaths.

"I'll get a clean one from the kitchen," he answered. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," she mumbled, but he was already out of the room.

Keeping to his word, Hotch was back in less than a minute, a glass of cold water in one hand and the moist towel in his other. Placing the latter on the back of Emily's neck, he watched as she removed her gold wedding band to rinse her mouth and wash her hands, then her face. Finally, she straightened to her full height and turned to look at him, a grateful and apologetic expression on her face.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked, offering her a tentative smile.

"Just barely," she said in response, downing the entire glass of water in three sips. Then, "Last night's dinner," she explained, cocking her head towards the sink. "I recognized lo mein, kung pao chicken, white rice…and God knows what else," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Damned morning sickness. I feel disgusting."

"Do you need more water?"

"No, I'll be okay." Emily returned his small smile. "Thanks." Noting that his gaze was scanning the tile floor, she said, "At least I didn't make a huge mess like last time. Still couldn't make it all the way to the toilet, though." She gave it an appraising, contemplative glance. "I don't think I can even bend that close to the ground, anyway."

Coming up behind Emily and wrapping his arms around her waist, Hotch lovingly caressed her very pregnant belly. "Silly baby, are you giving Mommy a hard time?" he crooned.

They both smiled as their daughter answered with a kick. "She sure is getting a pair of legs on her, this one is," Emily noted, her tone somewhere between tired and praising. "I swear I'm going to be black and blue by the time these nine months are over." She patted her belly softly. "How can someone as precious as you prevent me from holding down any food whatsoever?"

The baby just kicked once more.

"Just think of the end result, Em." Hotch kissed her cheek as she slipped her ring back on. "A beautiful baby girl with your eyes, your lips, your nose…"

"Surely some of your features, too," she teased, leaning into his touch.

He chuckled. "Maybe."

After a beat or two of just relishing his embrace, Emily asked sheepishly, "Do you mind if we go sit down? My feet are kind of cramping."

"I don't mind at all," he assured her. "Come on," he said, ushering her back to their king bed.

As Emily made herself comfortable and nestled herself amongst the pillows, her hair fanning out every which way in the process, Hotch moved to the foot of the bed and began to massage her aching ankles. Carefully kneading her porcelain skin, her eyes crinkled at the corners as a pleasured moan slipped past her lips.

"My God, you are so good at that. How are you so good at that?"

"Experience," he smirked, before lifting one of her feet to his lips and pressing a scalding hot kiss to its arch, then doing the same to the other.

"Mmm…Aaron…"

"Yes, Emily?" he taunted, sucking her toes one by one into his mouth.

"Ohhh…"

"You had something to say?"

Emily opened her eyes in time to see the wickedly mischievous glint in his. "No, nothing," she sighed, the feel of his lips whispering against her heel filling her with a pleasant warmth.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to deny you something you wanted."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really, now? Then why do you keep making fun of my newfound penchant for pickles and ice cream?" she suddenly tossed back, somehow remaining sane through the deep waves of lust.

"Think about it, Em, in a couple years, you're going to reflect on your pregnancy eating habits and be disgusted." At her raised eyebrow, Hotch muttered "mood killer," and went back to sucking her toes.

"Actually, ice cream sounds really good right now…"

"Oh, come on. Better than this?" And then, his sinfully delightful assault on her legs began.

Trailing burning open-mouthed kisses up her shins, past her knees, to her thighs, he murmured sweet nothings against her skin and muscle, toned even in her sixth month along. "Oh, sweetheart," she moaned, "your father is being so naughty…never ever let a man take advantage of you like this," Emily advised the child growing inside her.

Hotch chuckled heartily. "Me taking advantage of you? That's a good one. Don't listen to her, baby."

"Hey!"

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he immediately asked huskily, stealing her attention yet again.

"Once or twice," Emily said, his actions robbing her of the ability to speak louder than a whisper.

"Well, it's true. I, Aaron Hotchner," he licked the underside of her knee, "love you," he nibbled on a sensitive spot on her inner thigh, "Emily Hotchner."

"I never get tired of hearing people call me that," she said with an effortlessly sexy smile, her eyelids drifting closed with a subtle, sensual lethargy.

"Neither do I," Hotch agreed softly, his lips now a mere inch from hers.

"Come here," she said almost inaudibly, maneuvering her fingers into his soft, thick hair and closing the space between them.

His mouth curved into another smile against hers as he ran his palms against her sides and felt their daughter shift restlessly. His expression changed as Emily broke the kiss and winced, however. "What's wrong?"

Emily shook her head. "She's just moving a lot and my stomach keeps lurching…" She groaned. "I really don't want to throw up again."

Hotch moved so that he was behind her, her back resting against his chest. "Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe." He took in air with her, remembering what their Lamaze instructor had demonstrated days earlier. "Just like that. Good, Emily…"

She sighed quietly. "I just want to sleep…" At that, her eyes fell closed once more.

"So, sleep. You need your rest," he agreed, rubbing her stomach soothingly. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

"Okay." She yawned and rested her head back against his shoulder. "But Aaron?"

"Yes, darling?"

"If you ever even think about getting me pregnant again, I will shoot you between your eyes. And make it look like an accident," Emily muttered nonchalantly.

Hotch laughed into the hollow of her throat. "Okay, Emily. I'll carry the next baby, how about that?"

She snorted. "Good luck with that."

And then she was asleep, their fingers laced together atop her swollen belly.

THE END.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoy this sweetness, and please don't hesitate to leave me some feedback! Your lovely reviews really make my day. :)