Once a Hooker

a sequel to the fic To a Hooker,

both by TarnishedArmour

Timeline: Season 7. By necessity, this is A/U.

Summary: Adrianna had left hooking behind, moved to a new life in Virginia, and renewed her friendship with Spencer Reid. So why is she giving hooker lessons again? *To a Hooker's sequel.

A/N: I don't think I disclaimed earlier. Well, here it is: I do not own Criminal Minds, the CM characters, the FBI, or any locations herein mentioned; nor do I profit from this endeavor in any way. (Except maybe a little ego boost from reviews now and then, but that doesn't really count.)

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Adrianna walked out into the living room to hear a dissertation on one of Newton's Laws of Physics. She couldn't recall if it was number one, two, or three, but it was definitely effective when combined with the simple laws of leverage.

She smiled as she watched Spencer use both principles to put Carl on the floor. He then used torque and the limitations inherent in a hinge joint and transitioned into a nice armbar, which quickly became cuffing Carl.

"Good work, kid!" Carl said. "Now, uncuff me."

Spencer grinned. "What, I can't savor the moment?" He was breathing heavier than usual, but not anything like one of Carl's heavy workouts.

"Not until you do it four more times," Carl said, the drill instructor coming out. Or that's what Adrianna called it. Carl would, no doubt, object to the designation.

Knowing how self-conscious Spencer could be, she moved into the kitchen and started to work on dinner. She gave it ten minutes before Spencer managed the requisite four times, for both fatigue and the amazing lack of coordination he exhibited outside of the bedroom. In bed - among other sensual venues - he was amazingly coordinated and quite the athlete.

She was wrong. It took him seven.

He walked into the kitchen with Carl, both laughing. Spencer had broken a sweat, and he looked happy about it, too. Carl wasn't sweating, but he was rubbing his shoulder.

Adrianna smiled at them, raising her eyebrows to request an explanation.

"Carl's been working with me on hand-to-hand," Spencer said, giving her a kiss. "He's a good teacher."

Carl snorted. "You're smarter than the average grunt," he said in response. "Which means you actually get the point without endless demonstrations. His biggest problem," he said, turning to Adrianna and then looking into the pot, "is that he overthinks things."

"Mm," she said, kissing Spencer. She gave him a wicked little grin. "Not a bad thing," she said, turning back to the stove. Spencer smiled smugly at her, pardonable pride, considering the last time he had 'overthought' something. That had been fun. A little odd, difficult to achieve at first, but definitely fun.

"What's for dinner?" Spencer asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Spaghetti with garlic bread and salad," Adrianna replied. "Unless you object?"

Spencer grinned at Carl.

"Sounds good to me."

Carl chuckled.

Adrianna just shook her head and stirred in the noodles.

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Garcia stared at her screens. The case was over. More ickiness was on the way. But this one was over, and her darling agents were coming home.

Now, what to do to welcome them properly…

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Adrianna brushed her hair before heading to bed every night. Most nights she braided her hair, but when Spencer was there, she left it loose. He like her hair down around her shoulders, and she liked the way he ran his fingers through it when they were alone. Pleasing him cost her nothing, and he was always so grateful. She wondered if he had ever felt loved - not known he was loved, but really felt it.

Not that she loved him. At least, not the kind of love that romance novels focused on. She cared. She wanted good things for him. She was happy to be around him most of the time. She enjoyed making him smile, talking about anything and everything under the sun…so maybe it could be considered love. Or maybe not. She was far from an expert when it came to emotional entanglements.

Tonight, though, the bedtime ritual was giving her too much time to think. She was bringing very personal, private memoirs to the attention and scrutiny of a federal agent. Given what she knew of names, dates, and acts that powerful men tended to engage in, she also knew that this was a very dangerous game. Was it dangerous enough that thirty-one women - or maybe only twenty-three, with eight random victims tossed in for giggles - had been killed for it? She was not one to know. But she had heard of girls disappearing after certain requests had been filled. Urban legend, maybe, but when swimming in deep water, better to be paranoid than dead.

Spencer walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. She smiled at him. He was tired. The work they were doing wasn't physically draining, but it was tiring. Then again, he had learned something about self-defense today, and that was tiring, too. Since Adrianna was used to a lot of physical exercise, the soreness she felt was from the muscles that had grown unused to the kind of workout Carl required. Spencer would be in agony, especially since he didn't know the first thing about proper stretching.

"Feel better?" she asked, knowing the hot shower had helped, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

"I suppose," he said, giving her a small smile. "I think I have a bruise." Adrianna looked at his arm, his ribs, and nodded.

"Looks like," she agreed. "I know something you don't know," she teased in a sing-song voice.

"Probably," Spencer conceded, "but can you play two simultaneous chess games while computing Planck's Constant?"

"No, and I have no idea why I would want to try," Adrianna said, blinking. She didn't remember what Planck's Constant was, but she did remember it didn't involve plankton, despite the similar syllables. "I could make you work for the information," she continued, opening the tie of her robe and sending the silky covering sliding down her shoulders. Intelligent as he was, it was always a joy watching his eyes go blank, then dazed as she bared her skin for him. That look, even though she'd seen it so many times before, gave her a thrill. As usual, he didn't disappoint.

"Okay," he said, walking over to her. When his hand slid around her hip, she smiled.

"Or," she said, sliding her hands down his arms and up to his shoulders, "I could make sure you're able to move in the morning." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You like mornings, don't you?" she asked, pressing her lips against his ear.

Spencer didn't reply in words. Instead, she felt him shiver, just a little tremor that moved down his spine.

Adrianna laughed softly, wickedly, as she led him to her bed. She moved out of the way and let him lay down, glad she'd already turned down the heavy quilt. As he sprawled out on the bed, looking up at her, she made a motion with her hand. He obliged and turned over. Adrianna walked around the bed, dug into her nightstand drawer, where she kept a brand new supply of certain things she thought he might enjoy - and that she wanted to try with someone she actually cared about. Among those things was a perennial favourite: a soothing massage oil that could, with a little effort, also be an arousing massage oil.

She poured some of the oil onto her hands, worked it until it was warm, and straddled Spencer.

"What?" he asked, starting to push up and try to turn.

"Shh," she said, smiling as she spoke. "Just relax." She turned her attention to making his arms and legs as limp as cooked spaghetti, but if she did this just right, other pertinent parts of his anatomy would be anything but. And then she would demonstrate what she'd learned about chairs and how it transitioned quite nicely to a horizontal plane.

If he had enjoyed her company and her body before, well, he hadn't experienced anything yet.

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Derek Morgan tossed down his pen and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes, a little frustrated, but more tired than anything.

He hated paperwork.

Gracia had invited Seaver and him out for drinks at their favourite bar, but he needed to finish up this paperwork so Hotch could get home at a reasonable hour, and Seaver was acting a little too nervous to go out with them, anyway.

He couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, if not the completely inappropriate assessment Reid's girl had given them regarding sexual preferences.

Drunk pity sex. Ha! The woman had no idea. He was the one doling out the pity, if anyone. Then again, the foxes he found were anything but hard up for company.

Something about that night had been bugging him, though.

Adrianna O'Shaughnessy had taken the moment for a free-for-all, but she had backed off, way off, on Hotch.

What was it she had said? Puritan or unhealthy preferences?

Neither one sounded right, but then, Morgan didn't really try to follow his boss's sex life. His own was busy enough, so he didn't feel the need to try and keep up with anyone else's.

Reid had been highly complimented, Rossi had been dissected in detail - not that the older agent had minded - and Garcia had been pretty much what he'd expected. But he hadn't gotten much of Adrianna's time or attention, and Hotch…Hotch hadn't gotten any to speak of.

Except for that confrontation.

Adrianna hadn't backed down when Hotch stepped up. If anything, she'd made him turn away, and Derek knew that wasn't a good sign.

Maybe he'd see if Garcia could dig up some medical records for Adrianna O'Shaughnessy. That might tell the story a little better than she had that night.

And he needed more information about the woman the kid was sleeping with, if only to make sure the kid didn't get hurt.

Someone had to look out for him.

God knew, the kid couldn't manage it very well on his own.

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The first touch of the warm oil and soft hands on his back made Spencer sigh. Adrianna smiled. She smoothed over his skin a few times, pressing just lightly enough that he could feel it, but not working into the muscles on his back or shoulders.

"Tell me," she whispered. "What do you like?"

"I-I don't know," Spencer replied, voice soft. "I've never gotten a massage before."

"Never?" Adrianna asked. She sounded surprised, but then, after a moment, she couldn't think why that would surprise her.

"No." Spencer moved once, adjusting the angle of his head and neck to be a little more comfortable.

"Why not?" she asked, knowing full well that there were such things as legitimate massage therapists working in the area.

"I'm…not fond of being touched, not by most people. Or strangers. Or even friends, most of the time." He paused, then added quickly, "Present company excepted."

"Mm." That was true. Then again, given what she knew of his past, that shouldn't be surprise, either. "Well, in that case, I'll only ask you one question: How do you want this to end?"

Spencer was quiet for a long minute. "What, exactly, do you mean?" he asked.

"Do you want to just relax, to go to sleep, or do you want…more?" Maybe her initial plans needed a bit of confirmation first. She didn't want to scare him - or program him to expect what was generally called a 'happy ending' to massage. That could get awkward if he ever needed a chiropractor or massage therapy.

"More…meaning sex?" he clarified, his voice not soft, but not in full Reid-thinking tones, either.

"Meaning sex, or orgasm, if you're not energetic enough for the full ride," she said, pressing more firmly on the muscles next to his spine. For someone so damned skinny, he was bone and muscle. Pretty tight muscle, too - but that could be stress.

"Mmm…" He was quiet a long minute. She waited. When he didn't make a coherent response, she prompted him.

"Made up your mind?" she asked.

"Mmm-hmmm," he managed. Another minute passed. When there was no answer, Adrianna sighed.

She had her answer. He was more tired than she had expected. Better just to turn him into a ragdoll this time.

Next time, well, she'd pick a night that didn't follow a day of work, a workout, and pasta.

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