Back in the bar...

Jordan was doing something with her hand. She was squeezing the thick muscle that ran along the top of Morgan's thigh, while at the same time working her way up towards his crotch. The action was sending little shocks of pleasure through his nervous system, and he knew he had to put a stop to it, now, while he was still sober enough to do so with some grace and civility. He clamped his hand down on top of hers and looked her in the eye.

She, too, was half-drunk, he could see that. That was, of course, exactly what he wanted at this point. It would be much easier to slide out of this mess if she were a little off her game. Then, later, he could use her compromised state as a good excuse for having ended their sexually-charged banter.

"Hey, hey, gorgeous--listen, I'm sorry, but I think I'd better head on up to my room. I'm beat. I'm just going to try to get myself a good night's sleep for a change, know what I'm saying? So, I'll catch you later, all right?"

"Derek! Don't be such a party-pooper. We have the whole night ahead of us." Jordan gave him a sultry look. "Of course, if you're determined to go to bed--I could come along. I have some very effective stress-relief techniques that I'd be happy to demonstrate for you."

Morgan forced an appreciative laugh. "I bet you do. No, honey, I'm serious. This was a hell of a day. I wouldn't be of much use to you, if you know what I mean. I'm just going to go on up. I'll see you tomorrow."

"But--"

"Goodnight!"

Morgan threw back the last of his drink, nodded at her, and slipped by to head for the hotel elevators. He could feel her disbelieving stare follow him like a laser, but he didn't look back. He thought of the myth of Medusa, and laughed to himself... He'd have to tell Reid about that, he'd get a kick out of it.

As he rode up, he tried to figure out exactly when it was that he lost control of the situation. He was doing ok up until the moment when Reid gave him the bad news about not being able to get together that night; after that, he'd downed a few more drinks--more than usual--and totally lost the thread of the conversation. Jordan had been quick to take up the reins. Light flirting had turned into out-and-out hooking-up talk and he'd had a hard time turning it around, not that he'd done so very effectively. Jordan, he'd discovered, had a bulldog-like determination once she got her heart set on something.

If they ever had a follow-up confrontation about it all, and he sincerely hoped they wouldn't, he'd tell her that he had been drunk, and that would be no lie. He'd further embellish his reasoning with some reference to having gotten carried away almost to the point of forgetting that it was against FBI policy to fraternize with a fellow agent, and thank goodness he'd come to his senses in time. That she was a beautiful woman, but that, even in his alcohol-induced condition, he cared too much about her to allow her to put her job in jeopardy on account of his bad judgment, and blah blah blah, whatever.

She could think what she liked about him after that.

He made a bleary mental note--one of these days, he was going to have to talk to Reid about the two of them coming out to the team. This ladies'-man routine was getting old...

Morgan got off the elevator and wove slightly as he made his way down the hall to his room. The booze was definitely kicking in now. He paused in front of his door and fumbled for his key card. He found it, but was momentarily stumped; the little arrow indicating which way to point the card kept eluding him. Once he figured it out, he went in, stripped naked and crawled under the covers. He swiped at the light switch, and at last closed his eyes, enjoying the way the room continued to swirl around behind his lids.

He was drunk, no question about that. And, it felt pretty good; the lightness was a nice counterpoint to the exhaustion in his bones. Consciousness almost slipped away from him several times, but he kept seeing the unsub's gun, pointed first at Hotch, then at himself. There had been that moment when he'd really thought that they were done, over, finished, and it was amazing how much it had taken out of him. The sheer flood of adrenaline alone had wiped him out.

Then, there was Reid--Morgan would never forget the look in his eyes as the cop car came barreling down on him, and he'd never forget that heart-stopping fraction of a second when, just before the boy threw himself out of the way, Morgan was certain that the careening vehicle was about to slam into Reid's skinny body. God--Spencer. He could have... An image of the kid lying broken and bleeding on the side of the road flashed into his mind.

Damn it. It was too much.

Morgan's eyes flew open and he rubbed at them, now thinking about how cold and empty the bed felt. He'd become so accustomed to pulling Spencer into his arms at night and feeling him snuggle up against him that the idea of falling asleep alone seemed hopeless, especially after today's events. He turned on the radio, hoping the music would soothe him. He tried repeatedly to empty his mind and settle down, but his body wouldn't allow it. He finally got up and went to his go-bag.

He had a prescription for a sleep aid that he always took with him on trips. It used to be that he was almost never able to let go enough to fall asleep in a hotel bed, and he'd developed a powerful fear of insomnia. The fear was strong enough that he still took them with him as insurance, even though it hadn't been a problem since Reid became his lover--a good round of sex always worked miracles for him, but that clearly wasn't going to happen that night, so...

He took two pills.

He went back to bed and languidly stroked himself. It was mostly just for comfort, and he didn't even get hard before the pills began to work their magic. The room went back to spinning, and he finally drifted off before the next round of anxiousness could begin crawling through his brain.

xxxxxxxxxx

Back in the bar with Jordan...

Jordan watched Morgan disappear into the hotel lobby, and she shook her head in annoyance. It was a shame he was such a good-looking man, such a damn good-looking man. He could be sexy as hell when he turned on the charm, as he had been doing with her all evening. What the hell was the matter with him? She really thought she'd finally broken through his defenses. Watching him walk away like that confused her. She knew he wanted her--why'd he blow her off?

A part of her--the semi-sober part--said "Good riddance, he's a jerk," but another part of her told her that Derek Morgan presented a challenge, and, boy, did she love a challenge. All she had to do was to figure him out--clearly, there was something going on there that wasn't immediately apparent. Jordan frowned as she sipped her drink, trying to think through the situation, in spite of a light, alcohol-induced haze. She'd been immersed with profilers for weeks; surely if she just stopped and applied some of her new-found knowledge to the situation, Morgan's behavior would make sense to her.

He was a sharp, self-confident man; but, he'd kept her at arm's length up until tonight. Why? He didn't go after the other BAU ladies, either; he'd never once made a pass at JJ or Prentiss--she'd inquired--and while he flirted like crazy with Garcia, everyone knew they were just friends.

Suddenly, understanding dawned. Underneath that slick, charming, smooth-talking, he-man exterior, Derek Morgan was insecure. Maybe he had a small penis. Or, maybe he just had a hard time relating to girls, one-on-one. Of course--that was it. The alcohol must have loosened him up, only for him to have lost his nerve at the last minute.

Well, a man like that just needed a little hands-on encouragement.

Jordan smiled slyly. Morgan had settled their tab, so she slid off the bar stool, steadied herself, and went to the hotel's front desk. She waited until a young, clearly inexperienced clerk was left alone at the counter.

"Excuse me," she said, batting her eyelashes. "I'm Mrs. Derek Morgan, and I just got in. My husband's not answering his phone, could I get a key to our room, please? It's number 237."

The kid smiled and, eager to be helpful to the pretty lady, quickly pulled up the info on his computer. Seeing that Agent Morgan had requested two keys, he assumed the previous clerk had forgotten to note that a second person would be occupying the room. Happened all the time. He ran the key card through the machine and handed it to Jordan. "There you go, ma'am. Have a good stay!"

"Thank you so much." Jordan sauntered to the elevator and made her way up to Derek's room.

She tapped at the door and waited. Once it became obvious that Morgan wasn't going to answer, she let herself in.

"Derek?"

The room was dark, so she turned on the overhead light. Morgan was in his bed, sound asleep under the covers. She smiled, went to the bed and knelt beside him.

"Der-rek..." He still didn't respond. Jordan stood up and took off all her clothes. She pulled the covers off of Morgan's naked body and took a moment to appreciate the bounty before her. Clearly, a small penis was not his problem. "Um-hmm. You do look even better under those clothes than you do in them." She lay down next to him and gently bit into the skin on his neck. He stirred slightly. She moved lower, and nipped and licked at a nipple. He squirmed and made a groaning noise.

Jordan giggled, and took his limp cock in her hand and squeezed. Morgan threw an arm over her and pulled her against him. She heard him murmur something--it sounded like, "Umm, Spencer," but that didn't make any sense.

She frowned, then shrugged. She scooted out from under his arm and moved herself lower on the bed until her mouth was directly over Morgan's still-uninterested cock. She held onto the base and put the tip in her mouth. He was big, bigger than she was used to. It wasn't easy to fit him in much past a couple of inches, but she concentrated and managed to get about halfway down.

Groggy, Morgan half-smiled. Aw, Spencer... Either he was having the world's most vivid--and sexy--dream, or his sweet little genius must have figured out how to get around the Hotch problem. He tried to respond, but he felt as if he were moving through Jello. He couldn't even open his eyes.

Finally, he managed to reach a hand down to stroke the kid's long, silky hair, but something was wrong. It was nice, but it didn't feel like Spencer's hair. Hmm. Maybe it was a dream. Morgan decided to let it be whatever the hell it was, because it was starting to feel really good, and he was too woozy to care. Dream-Spencer definitely knew what he was doing.

The radio was a bit too loud, Jordan was a little too focused, and Morgan was much too bleary from the effects of booze combined with two sleeping pills for either of them to notice a keycard being slid into the room's door lock.

Intent on sneaking into Morgan's bed to perform basically the same act with which Jordan was already occupied, Reid quietly opened the door, peeked in, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Morgan and Jordan. Naked, lying on the bed together. Jordan had several inches of Morgan's cock in her mouth, and he was running his hand through her hair.

Stunned, Reid stared in silence. Then, he stepped back and gently closed the door. He stood for a moment with his hand on the knob, feeling his heart pounding and his mind numbing.

He bit his lip, turned and walked away.