The Mouths of Babes
Reid has an amazing mouth and Derek has to remind himself for at least the third time this morning that going over and ravishing it in the middle of the bullpen would constitute a Very Bad Idea.
There's a smear of ink at the corner of his mouth, and Derek has no idea why that is so hot, but it really, really is. Maybe it has something to do with the memory of how the ink had gotten there. Derek had never pegged Reid as the type to have an oral fixation, but damn the sight of those full, pouty lips wrapped around that cheap ballpoint pen had been enough to make Derek squirm in his chair.
Derek's a little in love with Reid's mouth. Okay, he's completely in love with it. He wants to marry it and whisper sweet nothings to it and hold it's hand. That is, if it had a hand. Which it doesn't. Because, you know, it's a mouth.
Derek might be a little fucked.
The younger agent is absorbed in the papers scattered across his desk, murmuring to himself as he scans them and occasionally jots something down on the pad next to his elbow. Derek absently wonders what he would have to do to make Reid's mouth stop moving.
Or maybe not stop moving. Maybe just make his lips move for a different reason. Make them move under his, soft and willing. How would Reid react if Derek sucked his lush lower lip into his mouth and scraped his teeth over the tender flesh? Would he act virginal, respond with a shiver and a whimper? Or would he moan and press closer, demanding more?
Or maybe he'd do neither, opting instead to pull away and deck him. And Derek would have to let him, would even have to respect him a little for it, because what sort of guy thinks that way about his best friend?
Reid bites his lower lip, his white, even teeth denting the skin, and Derek's blood runs hot and he thinks I wanna try that.
Reid must feel Derek's eyes on him, because he looks up from his paperwork, his pretty mouth twisted in a frown. "What?"
"You have some ink right, uh, there," he says, gesturing vaguely at his own mouth, offering up a quick prayer of thanks for Reid's leaky pen. Reid's brow furrows and Derek has to remind himself to breathe when he slowly, carefully runs his tongue over his lower lip, then rubs at it roughly with the pads of his fingers. He glances over at Derek and raises an eyebrow.
"Well? Did I get it?"
He did, but Derek shakes his head anyway-only feeling the briefest twinge of guilt about the lie-just to watch Reid swipe those long, elegant fingers over the beautiful swell of his lower lip again.
God, his hands are amazing too...
Cure for an obsession: get another one. ~ Mason Cooley
Kristin: I think I just used up my pun quotient for the month on that title...There's no good excuse for this ficlet other than that the idea refused to leave me alone, and once it was written I figured I might as well share. This is my first attempt in this fandom, so I'm a little unsure about it. Feedback is always appreciated-even negative feedback, provided it's constructive.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.