Gentle Hands

History shows that male homosexuality, which like prostitution flourishes with urbanization and soon becomes predictably ritualized, always tends toward decadence: -Camille Paglia

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

He grabbed the lad by the back of his Manson Tshirt and pulled him back to his feet. "Sweet boy. Now you need to pay for the pleasure. Money from the cash register in my hand will be what I am asking for – and I would like to know your name."

"Ben." Wiping his hand across his mouth and pressing the 'no sale' button. "How – how much?"

Floyd smiled at him. "How much was it worth – Ben?"

Shaky hands pulled out all the notes from the drawer and handed them over to Flanders. "It's every thing in there. Apart from the change – you – you want the coins?"

"No Ben I don't want the coins. I want you to explain to me how this much money gets in a cash register when hardly anyone ever comes in here. I've been watching. You have only had two customers. So where is all this money from?" Floyd was flicking through the notes quickly adding them up. "Over four hundred dollars in this shitty little dump – now I am dead curious."

"It it it's always been like that." Ben closed the drawer.

"Ben – I have a really good sense of smell, and I can smell liars. I can smell fear and I can smell both of those things on you right now. So try again. Tell me why there is so much money in the cash register."

Ben glanced down at the few pen knives under the counter and tried to work out if he had enough time to grab one. He figured not. "Sir really I don't know."

"LIAR!" He grabbed Ben by the front of his t-shirt. "Now think real careful about what you say to me next because I am going to get mighty pissed if you lie to me again. Right Ben – I am going to pretend I am asking this question for the first time and you will smile at me and tell me the sodding truth. Understand?"

A nod

"Good. Ben – why is there over four hundred dollars in the cash register of a store with no customers?" He watched the eyes of Ben looking to see if help was arriving yet. "Well?"

"Because some people buy expensive stuff."

"I love that answer. Show me." He let go of Ben and moved out of the way so the lad could pass him.

"Show you?"

"The expensive stuff. Show me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I sold it."

Floyd just stood and looked at the kid with the sores around his nose and the grubby clothes and strange long fingernails and laughed. He didn't laugh very often but this kid amused him. "You had one thing in the store that cost four hundred dollars and you sold it?"

"Erm yes."

"What was it?"

"I shouldn't tell you."

"Likely you are correct but I think we are good friends now don't you? I gave you a treat; you gave me lots of money. So we are friends, and friends shouldn't keep secrets. So Ben – it was Ben wasn't it? Yes so Ben – what did you sell?"

"Erm sir."

"Floyd. My name is Floyd."

"Floyd – some stuff I was told to pass on is all. I don't know what it was."

"Dope. You sell dope. Grand. I love it. Take me to your leader." Another laugh.

"I can't! They will kill me."

"And if you don't I will just skin you alive and feed off your internal organs. Choose." A big toothy smile. "NOW!"

………………………….

He got up and left Aaron laying on the floor flushed in the face. Spencer had grabbed the clothing Hotch had found for him and walked over to the bathroom. He left the door open and turned on the shower. The hot water over his body felt wonderful. Spencer felt strangely free. All the inhibitions he used to drag around with him had gradually fallen away and now it was just him – oh and sometimes the voices.

Faintly downstairs he could hear music playing. Morgan had put on MTV or something. He soaped himself and washed his hair properly, enjoying the feeling of his own hands on his body.

………………………

Morgan was sitting looking down into his coffee mug. The music in the background was so he didn't have to listen to the sounds coming from upstairs. He didn't know what was going on, but it didn't seem to be something Aaron was not completely unused to or it seems totally against.

For a very odd reason Derek felt a twist in his stomach. He didn't like it. He didn't like that Reid was there with Hotch.

"It's not meant to be like that."

Derek put his mug down hard on the coffee table making the dark drink splosh over the edge and drip onto the table. He got up and walked quickly up the stairs. All the doors except the bathroom door were closed. Derek gave Hotch's bedroom door a cursory glance and then looked over at the bathroom door. He could hear the water running, and the faint mutter's of Reid talking to himself.

Morgan stepped into the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind him. He had a sudden fierce flow of anger ripping through him. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but he could see Reid with his back to him with the water running over his pale damaged skin and he was clenching his fists as he watched that freak wash himself.

"Reid." It was a demanding voice. One which made Spencer frown as he turned.

"Morgan?" He pulled a puzzled face and did his 'OMG I feel so exposed' face. Derek threw him a towel which he caught still standing under the water. Reid held it in front of him self and stepped out of the shower.

"What the hell is your game Reid? Why are you doing this?" He watched the soggy ex-profiler walk towards him and the rage was building. "What are you acting like some fag whore?!"

Spencer blinked. Ok that isn't what Morgan should be saying. Something wasn't right and now he was locked in a steamy bathroom naked with a big black bloke foaming at the mouth in anger. Not what he had planned.

"Floyd?"

No answer.

"What the hell has Floyd go to do with this? He's not here. This is you Reid. You can't go putting the blame on someone else." Morgan was moving in closer and Reid could see those fists.

"Morgan, what's wrong? I haven't done anything! Have you been at Aaron's liquor again?"

Pain on the front of his face and the back of his head almost simultaneously. The fist to the mouth and the head on the toilet bowl as he fell backwards and Reid could hear familiar words flowing from a different mouth.

"You dirty son of a bitch whore. You filthy little freak pervert!" Morgan was shouting. When Floyd used these words on him they were hissed and whispered a dirty secret only for the two of them. Derek though was making sure the whole street could hear and as Reid saw the sudden flash of movement he wrapped his arms around his head. There was blood in his mouth and now a hard well practiced foot kicking him in the ribs.

Spencer wanted to call a truce and make this mad man leave him alone but somewhere deep down that old window opened in his mind and he began to actually enjoy the pain. Some very twisted form of self harming.

Now hands in his hair and on one arm pulling him up. "Stand up! Get up and face me." Spencer was shaking with the shock or was it excitement? He didn't know now but he slowly managed to get back onto his feet. There was blood on his chin from the smack to the mouth and it was this Derek was staring at. Reid was looking down at the floor his hair sliding and dripping over his face. Morgan moved in and put a hand on Spencer's forehead pushing his head up and back so he could see that mouth. That perfect Spencer mouth. That mouth he let Aaron have and let Flanders have and now he was going to have it too. Little whore that Reid is, he wont mind.

Still slutting it around then I see.

You are actually going to let that thing paw at you?

It's a risk worth taking is it Babes.

I might have to hurt you a lot if you carry on.

"You are not here. I will do what I want."

But with Agent Derek Morgan?

"Anyone."

Derek was now looking at the mouth muttering and whispering to it self and it make his stomach do undesirable jumps and twists.

"Can't see you coming to my rescue."

I'm busy

"What are you doing? - having freaky fun with the locals?"

A quick frown on Morgan's face. Reid wasn't talking to him. He had no clue who he was muttering away to, but that mouth - he had to get away from that mouth. A hand on Spencer's shoulder and he had him turned and facing the wall. One hand Reid could feel was holding onto his hair and another was now on his hip.

………………………..

Now it was Aaron's turn to stand alone not knowing what was going on or what to do with himself. He looked at the bathroom door and he could hear Morgan and Reid's voices.

Something insidious had crawled into their world via Flanders. Something twisting and hurting them and this all had to do with whatever was going one when Reid and Flanders had been taken. He still didn't know what had happened. Phone calls. He needed to make phone calls, but until then he would stand here in his jeans and Tshirt and stare at the closed door.

………………………..

"But I can't – Floyd. They come to me. I'm just like the delivery boy. Except I don't go anywhere."

Spencer what in hell's name are you playing at?

"Then how long do you expect to have to wait for your next delivery. One man drops off the next makes the purchase? Am I correct? That's not a mighty amount of money though, not for that, so you once again are not telling me the whole truth."

Ben was backing away again and trying to make his way towards the back of the store. Floyd let him go and followed closely behind.

Just play with him for a while babes.

I am busy here.


I will be watching you though.

He followed Ben through the door at the back of the shop. It lead to a small dirty stock room.

Too much going on at the same time –this will be the excuse he will use for what happened next. Trying to talk to Spence, trying to figure out what Spence was doing, trying to keep Morgan on track, keeping Aaron out of the way, working out what Ben was up to and thinking about how long he had to wait so he could have more fun with Sonja.

As he stepped through the door it slammed behind him. The pain across his shoulders was not expected and he let out an animalist howl of rage stumbling forwards a few steps and started turning to see who had just embedded a fire axe in his back.

"What the sodding hell was that for?" He reached back and quickly ripped the axe out of his back. It was good that when he was this enraged he didn't feel so much pain, but still it hurt and the little shit who just dared to do this was going to be in a heap load of trouble. As he looked to see who was there he noticed a very dark skinned muscular chest. A tall dark skinned man stood there looking down at him. Tall we are talking six foot six plus - bald lots of gold rings and necklaces – his head cocked to one side obviously surprised the little guy was still on his bare feet but somehow still smiling with a very pleasant full gold toothed smile.

"Shit."

In a separation it is the one who is not really in love who says the more tender things: -Marcel Proust