The bed sheets were cool, contrasting the heat that resonated from Adams skin. He was hunched over, breaths coming slowly.
He willed the urge to go away.
Let me take control, I'll find one. I'll do it.
He didn't answer.
If he killed again, the agent, Reid, would hate him. Just like everyone else. He couldn't.
No, no, no, no, no.
Yes.
"No!" He screamed, swiping everything off the nightstand in a swift movement. Silence followed.
Amanda had left, angry with his defiance.
Grabbing fistfuls of his hair, he pulled, twisted. Occasionally a small sound of anguish would pass through his lips.
He needed control. Punishment.
He froze completely, holding his breath. The image of those long fingers gripping his wrist, pinning them to his side...
"Reid..." His voice was barely audible.
He was alone. He could think of the agent, think of his lithe body, graceful and elegant limbs.
No one would know.
Suddenly he was frantic, unbuckling, unzipping. A shiver went through him, from excitement. From the cool air.
Fingers met the hot skin, aching for touch. He imagined that they belonged to him.
A whimper escaped.
"Don't make a sound." The command came from himself, but he could almost hear the other saying it. As if he was there.
He obeyed.
Slow, fast, fingernails dragging. Breath came in short, shallow gulps but he never let a moan escape. He had to listen.
It seemed to last forever yet it ended too quickly. The pleasure was almost too much but it wasn't enough.
Eyelids fluttered close. His mouth opened but no sound came, only a pained expression.
Release...
Almost as good as killing.