Title: Touch

Pairing: Hotch/OFC Rating: R Word Count: 360

Disclaimer: Don't own Criminal Minds, or else Hotch/Morgan/Reid would be locked in a closet for my enjoyment

Warnings: het!sex mentioning (non-graphic)

A/N: Livejournal user kelachrome left this prompt on the community comment_fic* : "Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner, skin hunger - because unit chiefs need physical contact to be psychologically healthy too."

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She knows it's him before she picks up the phone but she answers anyway and hears him let out a huff of breath: "CanIcomeover?"

Glancing at the clock she doesn't remark on the time but says, "Bring coffee," before she hangs up and forces herself out of bed into a bathrobe and starts cleaning her room of the major clutter. He doesn't give a damn but she wants to.

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rings and she shuffles to her front door. He holds out the coffee once he can see her face.

"Sorry," he starts to apologize, but he's not really sorry.

"Save it, G-Man," she says with a mild smile and lets him slide inside out of the chill of the early-morning Virginia air. "Sit."

Aaron shuffles uncomfortably and stares down at his shoes. Work ones, black leather with scuff marks at the toes - must be fresh off a case, she guesses. The SSA Hotchner she knows would shrink away from an untidy appearance.

"You want to talk?" she asks and swallows down the dark brew. It burns her throat but it makes her wake up, which she wants considering what she thinks is going to happen.

Staring at his shoes he sighs and shrinks. "No."

"Hey, Aaron." He looks up at her, those eyes usually so emotionless and direct now swallowing her up in the anxiety he's feeling, the lack of control.

She puts down the plastic cup and walks over to the front of him, cups his face and tilts her head upwards. Their lips meet, and he shudders. "Who the hell gave you a degree in psychology?" he manages a weak joke.

"I got it via the Playboy Mansion," she says dryly, and he huffs out a laugh before she pulls him towards her bedroom. "C'mon."

It'll take a few hours, lots of rising and crashing together, her nails down his back and his teeth at her breasts, and in the end she'll scream his name to the heavens. And then he'll leave, put back together and no longer Aaron but Hotch.

And she'll go back to being the psychiatrist who the FBI has assigned to him, who sits at her desk and looks untouchable.