Archive of Our Own ^beta

The creamer hadn’t yet mixed with her coffee when two unpleasant noises rattled through the kitchen. On her right, a loud thud rang from Hotch’s office, followed by a masculine groan and the blinds flipping shut. On her left, Spencer joined her by the coffee machine, filling his mug as he did his damnedest to ruin her Friday morning.

“It’s profoundly hypocritical for you to mock the amount of sugar I add to my coffee,” he said, as smug as ever, “and then proceed to use a coffee creamer which is candy bar flavored. A serving size is a tablespoon, which has five grams of sugar. I can’t say with full certainty without measuring your portion, but I’d estimate you add about a quarter cup, which is a whopping 20 grams. I add two tablespoons of sugar to my coffee, which is 24 grams. So… what precisely makes you the pinnacle of health? The four fewer grams of sugar you consume?”

Her hands tightened around her mug. God, she hated this man.

“Well, for starters, I have one coffee a day,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Meanwhile, you have three, four—hell I’ve seen you have six when we’re in the field!”

“Yes, but then you proceed to fuel yourself with energy drinks. One can of Red Bull has—”

But his words were cut off by the reoccurrence of the noises coming from Hotch’s office. A booming thud reverberated through the bullpen—like furniture had been shoved into the wall—followed by Hotch’s deep voice hissing, “Fuck! Just… fuck!”

Ceramic shattered, a chair creaked, and then his door slammed shut.

She frowned. Their Unit Chief hadn’t been himself recently. Which, given everything he was going through, she understood. But it was disappointing to see him so… down, especially when his foul mood influenced the rest of the team.

Most notably, Rossi, who popped out of his office and barked, “Conference room, now.”

Sighing, she grabbed her coffee and began the trek across the bullpen. Spencer kept pace with her and said, “As I was saying, one can of Red Bull has—”

“Oh my god!” she cried. “Shut up. I hate you so much. Can’t you read the fucking room?”

“A room isn’t a book. There are no words to read.”

For a brief moment, she considered dumping her coffee on him, but she decided she’d be nice since it was Friday. Instead, she sat at the conference room table beside Emily—although Spencer was an ass and decided to sit on her other side. JJ and Morgan entered moments later, followed by Penelope, and Rossi, who shut the door.

“Do we have a case?” Morgan asked. “Shouldn’t we wait for Hotch?”

“No and no.” Rossi turned to Penelope. “You were up last night. I figured you’d be a shoo-in to fix things with Aaron!”

Penelope frowned. “I know, I know! I tried, ok? But it may be time for the big guns.”

Everyone—and she meant everyone—turned to her and… Spencer.

“Um… What’s going on?” she asked.

Spencer looked equally confused, but for once, kept his mouth shut.

Rossi sighed. “Look, bella, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Hotch has been…”

“Moody as shit?” Morgan suggested.

“I was going to say a cantankerous old man,” Emily teased.

“Both of those, but also just…” JJ frowned. “Sad. He reminds me of a kicked puppy.”

“Ugh.” Penelope threw her head back, like she was going to cry. “Absolutely right. He looks like he walked out of an ASPCA commercial.”

Rossi nodded. “Precisely. Since he’s been so… difficult, I decided I’d be a good friend and try to distract him. A few weeks ago, I spent days giving him the full Rossi treatment. We’re talking homemade cacio e pepe, Cuban cigars, poker nights, jazz clubs—everything you could imagine doing to cheer me up. Unfortunately, I was reminded that Aaron is not me, and while I don’t think he was miserable, he just… seemed checked out. Didn’t crack a smile once. Even when he won money and tasted my pasta!”

He rounded the table, where he put his hands on Emily’s seat back. “So, disappointed in my failure to cheer him up, I turned to Emily.”

Emily sighed, red lips pouting. “I invited him along for a local, very subdued version of a Sin to Win weekend. I set up a double date, pairing him with Claudia, my hottest and easiest friend.”

“Claudia?” Morgan cried. “Man, you never let me go near her!”

Smirking, Emily shrugged. “Anyways, the three of us, plus my date, Paulo—”

“Oooo!” Penelope grinned. “Tell us about Paulo.”

“Later. As I was saying, the four of us did dinner at that hip new tapas place in Arlington, followed by a sexy yet tasteful dance performance and drinks at my favorite speakeasy. And despite Claudia wearing her tiniest little red dress—” Morgan groaned, so Emily smacked the back of his head, “—and throwing herself at Hotch, his head was in the clouds. He called a cab and left before we went dancing!”

“With Emily’s failure—” Rossi ignored Emily’s scoff and moved to JJ’s chair, “—I realized that maybe we were approaching this wrong. Aaron isn’t super social. He’s not a party guy. Unlike Emily and me, his perfect day may not include drinks and dancing and expensive food. It might be focused on his son. So, I went to JJ next.”

“I planned an entire day around the boys,” JJ explained. “Hotch and Jack joined me, Will, and Henry at the zoo, followed by an afternoon at one of those pottery painting places. The kids had an amazing time, and by the time we wrapped up the day with pizza and ice cream, Jack was practically comatose in Hotch’s arms. And while Hotch didn’t seem unhappy per se, he still seemed so…” She sighed. “Distant.”

“Which meant we were back to the drawing board.” Rossi went to Morgan next, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Enjoying life’s luxuries, access to beautiful women, and a Jack-centric day hadn’t cheered him up, so I thought maybe a proper guy’s day would. Not my kind of guy’s day, mind you, but a guy’s day that someone like Morgan could provide.”

Morgan laughed. “Man, it would’ve been a fucking hoot for you to have joined us.”

“No thanks. I’ll stick to my cigars and wine.”

“Mhm.” Morgan turned back to her and Spencer. “I invited Hotch along to the gym I box at. We had a nice workout, and then I took him to the batting cages, followed by a drink at a local brewery. Then, we ended the night with some amazing seats at the Capitals game, where they kicked Pittsburgh ass. Plus we sat beside two beautiful ladies and one of them was all over Hotch. But did he give her the time of day? No!” Morgan groaned. “Ruined my chances of bringing her friend home, too. Anyways, by the time we said goodbye, he was still so… Hotch-like. A fucking robot, man.”

Rossi nodded solemnly. “And with Morgan’s attempt unsuccessful, I turned to Penelope. I figured if anyone could revive his spirits—especially with a strategy from home—it was her.”

Penelope pouted. “I tried! I really tried! It took a week, but I finally convinced him to let me come over and teach him and Jack how to knit. Jack had an incredible time, but Hotch kept getting frustrated and frogging whatever progress we made. After knitting, I gifted him a blanket I’d been working on for months, and that was the closest to a smile we got. I ordered them my favorite Indian food, we watched a delightful little animated movie, and we ended the night with candy salad. I thought, since Hotch was so nice when I left, that maybe I’d succeeded in cheering him up. But…”

“Clearly not after his episode this morning.” Rossi sighed. “The tiniest things are setting him off. Strauss moved a meeting from two to two-fifteen and he threw his chair at the wall. We ran out of half and half, and he cleared his desk of paperwork.” He dropped to the seat at the head of the table and rubbed his beard. “Jack is leaving for summer camp tomorrow morning, and he’s going to be gone for a week. I’m worried that Aaron could get worse alone. And I just… have no idea what’s going to get him back to our usual grumpy Hotch. Because we’re past grumpy Hotch.”

“We’re at monster Hotch,” Morgan added.

She glanced at Spencer, who nodded along, before turning to the others. “Well… thanks for catching us up. But I have two questions: why weren’t Spencer and I included, and why did Penelope call us the big guns?”

“Easy, pretty girl. You two are Hotch’s favorites.”

“We are not—”

“I am,” Spencer replied breezily, “although I’m not sure why she’d be anyone’s favorite.”

She glared at Spencer. “Shut up Reid. You’re so fucking annoying.” To Morgan, she said, “Since when am I Hotch’s favorite?”

“Since you joined.” Emily laughed. “Why do you think we call you the Hotch Whisperer?”

“You… what?”

JJ shrugged. “Look, he just doesn’t get mad at you, and when he’s in a mood, you’re the best person to send in to calm him down. And he’s always viewed Spencer as an extension of himself.”

“I went to the others first,” Rossi explained, “because I wanted you two in my pocket in case we were unsuccessful. Because if you two can’t cheer him up, then I have no idea what’s going to get him out of this rut.”

“Well, I’m sure with adequate preparation, I can cheer Hotch up,” Spencer said. “As for her, I don’t see how she’d be useful. She’s not useful for anything.”

Ignoring Spencer, she asked, “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Not just you.” Rossi waved between her and Spencer. “Both of you. I’m thinking if he’s approached by his favorites, maybe that’ll be enough positive influence to fix things.”

She pursed her lips. “Ok. But… what are we supposed to do? You’ve tried expensive vices, good food, sports, shows, liquor, art, family-friendly events, even…” Her nose wrinkled. “Emily’s easy friend Claudia on a silver platter, and nothing has broken the sad Hotch shell. How are we going to be any different?”

Rossi shrugged. “You and Reid are excellent profilers. I’m sure you can put your brains together and figure it out.”

“I’d rather do this alone—”

But her words died in her throat as the door to the conference room flew open. Hotch stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed, hair disheveled, and tie twisted. “Are we just having a party in here?” he asked, each word terse. “We may not have an ongoing case, but you all have work to do. I shouldn’t leave my office to find the bullpen empty.”

“Aaron—”

“Dave.” Hotch glared. “Don’t enable their goofing off.”

One by one, everyone began to filter out. But before he left, Morgan leaned between her and Spencer and whispered, “Fix this. Please. Because he’s driving me fucking crazy.”

Thanks to Morgan’s parting words, she and Spencer ended up being the final two in the room. Hotch looked between them, his shoulders softening ever so slightly. “Come on,” he said, and God, he sounded so tired. “Reid, I saw your profile for the Boston PD. I like what you have so far.” He turned to her. “Your work for Seattle was excellent. I just sent you information about a string of murders in Sacramento that I’d love your opinion on.”

“Got it. We’ll get to it now.” But as she moved to the door, Spencer at her side, she grabbed his wrist to stop his movements. “Um. Actually. Hotch?” When he turned, she asked, “Jack is off to summer camp tomorrow?”

“Yes. A week on his own. He’s excited.” He cleared his throat. “I just hope he wears his sunscreen and bug spray.”

“He’ll have an amazing time—”

“Make sure the insect repellent he has is effective against ticks. Studies have shown that formulas with DEET fare the best with—”

She elbowed Spencer. “Anyways! Since Jack will be gone,” she continued, giving Hotch her kindest smile, “maybe… you’d like to come to my place tomorrow night? Spencer will be there.”

“Uh, since when—” she elbowed him harder, and Spencer cried, “Yes, I will be!”

Hotch looked between them, eyebrows furrowed. “You want me to… come over to your apartment?”

“Yes! We may be colleagues, but we’re all friends, right?”

Hotch blinked. “I was under the impression you and Reid didn’t get along.”

She bit her lip. “We’re working on it and tomorrow will help. So… come! Please.”

“I… ok. I suppose I could swing by. What… are the plans? Should I bring anything?”

“Nope! It’s a surprise. Come by around… six? We only need you.” With a short nod in agreement, Hotch left the conference room. The minute he disappeared, she turned to Spencer and glared. “For a brilliant profiler, you really are horrible at picking up on cues.”

“Thanks.” He glared back. “You could’ve asked if I had plans before you volunteered me.”

“Do you have plans tomorrow?”

“Well, no, but—”

“You’re so annoying!”

“So are you!” he cried. “We should’ve talked first. What are we going to do with him? Penelope tried a movie. Rossi tried poker. They’ve all tried food and liquor and even cigars. What exactly do we bring to the table?”

“I don’t know. I figured you, being a self-proclaimed genius, would have an idea!”

He stared off into the distance. After a few seconds of silence, his lips transformed into a massive smile. “Ok. I’ve got it. We could watch that new documentary about black holes—”

“No.”

“Fine. What about we explore the world through strategy games, starting with mahjong, then—”

“No.”

“You’re not even letting me finish!” He pinched his nose. “Ok. Well, I know you invited him over, but you live within walking distance to that Irish pub on 14^th Street. They hold Star Trek trivia on the first Saturday of every month—”

“Absolutely not.”

“We could conduct our own science experiment by—”

“No.”

“I could bring my keyboard, and we could teach him to play—"

“No.”

“Ok, I tried! Do you have any ideas?”

She sighed, beginning to pace the empty conference room. “No! I would’ve done what they did. Fun with Jack, good food and a movie, a night out at a show or a hockey game. They’ve ticked every box.” She picked up her mug and winced at the visible chocolate sludge concentrated at the bottom. Spencer was right. She needed to stop sucking down all the candy bar creamer. “Man, if only we gave him chocolate and that fixed everything.”

“We could try.”

“Chocolate is not going to magically fix Aaron Hotchner.”

“I know but—” He approached the white board. As he wrote, he said, “Generally, there are four what we’ll call happy hormones: dopamine, endorphins, serotonin, and oxytocin. These all work together to make us feel good and regulate our moods. So, maybe we get scientific about this and focus on activities that are known to facilitate their release.”

“Wow. For once, you’re saying something interesting. What were you thinking?”

“Well, the first activity that comes to mind is exercise. Exercise releases endorphins which—”

“Morgan tried that. Boxing, remember? And what, you and I are going to go running with Hotch, Mr. Triathlon?”

Spencer sighed. “Fine. Laughter is known to release dopamine. We could—”

“Let me stop you there. Penelope tried a movie, and Emily took him to a show. Neither were comedy focused but this is Hotch we’re talking about. Have you ever seen him laugh for longer than three seconds?”

“…fair enough.” Spencer tapped the marker against his chin, thoughtful. “Well, as for the other activities that come to mind, there’s meditation, interacting with pets, sex, cooking with loved ones—”

She blinked, his suggestions settling in the air. One word had her heart skipping a beat, and her body a little too intrigued. “You… think that would work?”

“Sure. It takes work, and communication, and can get messy, but the activity itself produces dopamine, and then the finish leaves you high on endorphins.”

Swallowing, she glanced out the conference room windows. She spotted Hotch in the kitchen, hunched over the counter as he fiddled with his coffee. His jacket was tight against his broad shoulders and while she’d never thought of him as anything but her boss, Spencer’s suggestion had her thinking differently.

But… there was the Spencer of it all.

She looked him over. Lean, but muscular. Curly hair. Golden-brown eyes.

Shit. He was hot, wasn’t he?

What the fuck was she even thinking about?

“And you’re… ok with this? With us… doing that? Together? The three of us?”

Spencer shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just… didn’t think that would be your kind of… thing.”

He scoffed. “You barely know me. But if we do this, do I get any say?”

“Um… I… guess?”

“I’ll bring everything we need,” he replied briskly. “I think by the time we’re finished with him, he’ll be completely satisfied.”

Satisfied.

Her legs rubbed together as her imagination wandered. A threesome had always been on her bucket list. But… with her boss and her co-worker she hated? This was insane. Spencer claimed he was on board, but he could run in the other direction when it was showtime. And Hotch…

Well, Hotch could laugh in their faces.

She’d have to make sure that didn’t happen.

Biting her lip, she asked, “What do you think his favorite color is?”

“Uh… red, maybe?”

“And… do you think he’d prefer satin? Mesh? Lace?”

Spencer blinked. “I… don’t know and I don’t think it matters.”

“You’re right. It’ll get messed up anyways.”

“…Sure.”

She giggled.

Ok. She was actually going to do this.

On Saturday night, she was going to seduce her boss into a threesome.

“Six o’clock tomorrow,” she told Spencer, already running through everything she needed to do. Lingerie shopping, cleaning her apartment—he was bringing the supplies, so surely, he’d bring lube. Although… she had some laying around from her favorite toy, didn’t she?

Crap. She needed to get a wax like right now if she wanted to have a full twenty-four hours before their plans.

Well, at least she knew what she’d be doing during lunch.

With another excited giggle, she scurried to her desk.

Spencer watched her drop to her chair and immediately pick up her phone. What an odd woman. A frustrating one, too.

Why was she focused on colors and material for tablecloths when they had bigger fish to fry—literally.

Sighing, he erased his impromptu science lesson, his thoughts rushing a mile a minute. He needed to talk to Penelope or Rossi for advice on cooking. They’d done group meals at both of their places before, so surely, they had thoughts on what recipe would best serve a trio in the kitchen.

When he went grocery shopping tomorrow, he’d even grab chocolate too—maybe it’d be good for them to also make dessert? Chocolate chip cookies always cheered him up.

Happy with his initial thoughts, he left the conference room.

Hopefully, tomorrow, their cooking night with Hotch would provide all the happy hormones their Unit Chief needed to go back to being himself.

Threesomes were always something she fantasized about happening organically. At least, that’s how they were approached in her favorite sexy novels. Maybe friends were drinking too much and loosened up, or a couple got frisky and convinced the hot best friend to join, or the female main character was being fought over by the sexy twin brothers and the pair decided to ravish her together—

Ok, look, she had interesting reading tastes. She knew that. And she also knew that in real life, threesomes were meticulously planned. Friends consented, or thirds were approached on dating apps, or throuples did it regularly.

Somehow, she had fallen into the middle. Spencer claimed he was on board but Hotch? Well… she was going to seduce him.

Hopefully.

Which was precisely why her twenty-four hours leading up to 6pm were jampacked. She got waxed, and then, because she was already out and treating herself, opted for a nice mani-pedi. She went lingerie shopping—her new purchase red lace, because it seemed like something Hotch would like—and bought herself new perfume, a fragrance that just smelled so… sensual. And with sensuality on the mind, she bought new lotion and some pretty candles.

Where would they do it? The bed? The couch?

She did some research, too. She figured a movie was a great way to set the mood, so she found an erotic French film that Spencer would hopefully not babble through.

All and all, she was ready. Hair done and makeup on, she slipped into a black cotton tank set, the shirt and shorts just tight enough to draw eyes, but not too sexy that she looked like she was trying. And if she sprayed perfume behind her ears, and on her belly, and her ankles well…

Preparation was key.

She started lighting a few of the candles at 5:55, which was when the first knock came. And while she expected Spencer, she wasn’t completely surprised to find Hotch on the other side. She was surprised however to see him in jeans and a black polo.

Sometimes she forgot what he looked like in casual clothing, since he essentially lived in a suit and tie.

Grinning, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him inside. “Hi. You’re early!”

Hotch cleared his throat, dark eyes jumping from her face, to her hand, to her body, and then to her apartment. “You said six. In my book, being on time is being late.”

“Mhm, I know. How many times have you scolded me in the mornings?” she teased, leading him into the living room.

“Often, but that’s because you consistently show up twenty minutes late—”

“With pastries for everyone!” She pouted. “Surely that softens the blow?” Poking his chest, she smiled up at him. “I always get those chocolate eclairs you like, don’t I?”

He swallowed, offering only a curt nod.

“Ok!” She waved to the sofa, her pillows nicely plumped. “Sit down and loosen up. Spencer will be here soon.” When he remained, just staring at her, she shoved him gently. “Come on. The couch won’t bite.”

Thankfully, Hotch did eventually drop to the sofa. Back stiff and hands on his knees, he stared forward, gaze skimming across her entertainment system, no doubt profiling her from everything on display. There wasn’t much to speculate over—she loved romcoms, she loved stupid knickknacks from her travels, and she had an abundance of fake plants since her job usually caused her to kill any real ones.

But since he wasn’t much a talker, clearly, he preferred to observe. So, it was a relief when Spencer arrived—and boy was that the first time she ever had that feeling. She opened the door to find him carrying two full, brown paper bags.

A spark of warmth scorched down her back and had her toes curling into the floor. What exactly did he have in mind that he brought along two bags of supplies? He must’ve stopped at the store too, since the only thing she could make out was the bottle of wine peeking out the top.

Maybe he was actually as smart as the team claimed he was.

“Good evening,” Spencer said, slipping out of his Chucks. He turned to the sofa. “Hi, Hotch. How did camp drop off go this morning?”

“Fine.”

Spencer pursed his lips. “Was Jack ultimately excited? Approximately ninety-six percent of children at sleepaway camp for longer than two weeks report feeling homesick. Now, Jack is only gone for a week, but some children exhibit their reluctance immediately—”

“Reid,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “why don’t we go into the kitchen?”

Golden-brown eyes darted between the bags he held and her. “Oh. Good call.”

Once in the kitchen and the bags were on the counter, she shoved him. “Seriously? I’m trying to set a mood here, and talking about his young son getting homesick is not helping. This is a big deal for both of them, and I don’t need him getting cold feet and leaving because he’s worried about Jack.”

Spencer groaned. “I was just trying to make conversation!”

“Yeah, well, you’re not very good at it.” She glanced at the bags. One had a bottle of red wine and two types of chocolate—a bag of chips and a stack of bars—peeking out the top. The other had a carton of ice cream and a bottle of whipped cream poking out. “Oh. But sometimes, you do have strokes of genius.” She bit her lip. “I like how you think.”

He noticed here focus on the ice cream. “I thought a sweet component would help. Sugar is known to release dopamine, and the temperature contrast of cold on warm can help stimulate—”

She covered his mouth with her hand. “Shh. Enough talking. Put everything away while I pour us some wine.”

As she grabbed the bottle from the bag, his eyebrows furrowed. “Well, actually, I bought that for—”

“Spencer. Come on. You can have a glass of wine.”

“Fine. Just not too much. We need it for later.”

She smirked. “Again, I like how you think.” After grabbing three glasses and a corkscrew, she left Spencer to put the cold stuff away and sauntered back into the living room. “Sorry for the delay. Can I interest you in some wine?”

Hotch, who’d been typing away on his phone, straightened on the sofa. “Oh. Sure.”

As she handed him a glass, she asked, “Who were you texting? We don’t have a case, do we?”

God, wouldn’t that ruin a wonderful evening?

“No, nothing like that. Dave was just asking how my night was going. He’s been rather interested in my social life recently.”

She giggled. “Well, you know Rossi. He can be nosy.” But as she considered her plans for the evening, she bit her lip and added, “Probably best to not disclose everything, though. We all need our secrets.”

“I don’t have secrets.” He took a sip of wine, his movements as stiff as his words. “Frankly, I don’t have a social life either. The team has been very kind inviting me out to do things but… sometimes, after work, the only energy I have is for sticking to my running routine and spending time with Jack.”

“I understand.” She pouted and dropped beside him on the sofa, close enough that their thighs touched. “You work so hard, too.”

Hotch cleared his throat, giving another one of his short nods. “The entire team works hard. It doesn’t go unnoticed. You and Reid especially. You two are indispensable. Everyone is talented and together, we’re a well-oiled machine. But you two keep the wheels rolling, even when the going gets tough.”

Shit, she was blushing, and it wasn’t even because of anything sexy.

Ugh, she was so going to fuck his brains out tonight.

“Well, we couldn’t do it without our Unit Chief.” She dropped a hand to his knee and squeezed. “You’re not only indispensable, but you’re also unreplaceable.”

Spencer rounded the sofa, staring down at her. “The word unreplaceable, while technically grammatically correct, hasn’t been common in the American lexicon since the turn of the twentieth century. The preferred term is irreplaceable, made famous by the 2006 hit by singer—”

“Reid,” she interrupted coolly, only resisting her desire to throw her wine at him because it’d stain her rug, “is everything put away?”

“Yes. I—”

“Hotch, give us a minute, ok?” With a sweet smile, she jumped off the couch and dragged Spencer into her bedroom. The minute the door shut, she cried, “Seriously? I was getting somewhere! Why do you always have to make things so difficult?”

“Difficult? I was merely pointing out that your word usage was strange. If anything, I was doing you a favor. It’s like when Morgan called someone ungenuine. Both ungenuine and ingenuine are slowly being adopted into our dictionaries, but the preferred term should always be disingenuous —”

“Ok. You’re being a disingenuous prick.”

He straightened to his full height and glared down at her.

Huh. Maybe the candles and perfume were working, because honestly…

It was kinda hot.

Ugh, she was so going to fuck his brains out tonight.

“What do you want from me?” he asked roughly. “I agreed to your last-minute plans. I brought everything we need and did all the research and planning—”

She bit her lip, ignoring how her cheeks scorched. “Research and planning?”

“Yes. This isn’t something you can go into blind and unprepared. I spent an hour getting advice from Garcia.”

She squeaked. “You got advice from Penelope?”

“Yes? She does this all the time.”

She blinked quickly. Damn. What a girl. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to be impressed, not when the embarrassment was creeping in. “So, she… she knows what’s happening tonight?”

“Maybe? I didn’t exactly specify when and where I was doing this, but she knows we had plans with Hotch tonight.”

Well, that allowed her to breathe easier. It was way more believable that Spencer was going to some Star Trek cosplay orgy than joining her and Hotch for a ménage à trois.

“Ok. And… her advice was good?”

“I think so. It influenced what I bought and… I think Hotch will definitely enjoy himself.”

She couldn’t help it. Another giggle escaped. “Great. Then here’s the plan. I’m going to set the mood. Light some more candles, pour us some wine, and then I found a… stimulating film. It’s only ninety minutes. Once it’s over we can—”

“Get right too it.” He glanced at his watch. “That timing makes sense to me. Right around eight o’clock seems like a good time to indulge.”

“I’ll say so.” She chewed on her lip. “You’re truly fine with this?”

“Again: why wouldn’t I be?”

“I—I just wanted to check, ok? Once we get into it, if you freak out, that’s going to freak him out.”

He blinked. “I may have a mild germaphobia, but I’m not squeamish. I can do a little raw—”

The giggles were back. “Ok. Just… just checking.”

“Are you… ok?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“What? No! I’ve had two sips of wine.”

“You just seem so… bubbly.”

“I’m excited. Aren’t you?”

“I mean… I guess. It’s not my favorite activity but—”

“Seriously?”

“Yes? My previous experiences haven’t exactly gone well.”

She looked him up and down. No wonder he was so prickly. The poor guy wasn’t having good sex.

“I know we don’t always get along but…” She put a hand on his chest and stared up at him, giving him her best bedroom eyes. “I’ll make tonight as enjoyable for you as it is for Hotch.” His lips parted, but before he could respond, she stepped away. “Ok. Let’s get out there. Please keep conversation light. No work, no correcting, no Jack, and only offer fun facts if they’re sexy, got it?”

“Um… ok.”

With a wink, she returned to the living room.

Seriously, what was her deal?

She was always strange, but tonight, she was on another level. It didn’t help that she was scampering around in a pair of tight black shorts and a tank top, the fabric doing nothing to hide the shape of her body. Given their propensity for fighting, Spencer usually went out of his way to treat her like a sexless being.

If he didn’t like her, he couldn’t possibly be attracted to her. But in that little outfit, when she smelled so sweet, yet so spicy?

He was finding it hard to get mad at her, even when she was being snippy—and unfair. He’d put a lot of work into planning their night. He’d gone to a butcher for the meat, the grocery store for everything else, and a local liquor store for the brand of red wine he knew Rossi always served. Hours of recipe research left him frazzled, and he’d eventually turned to Garcia for help since cooking was very much not on his list of things he was good at.

Since Garcia was a vegetarian, he’d had to pick and choose suggestions, but ultimately, he’d decided on steak with a red wine sauce, along with Garcia’s recipes for sauteed mushrooms, an arugula salad, and roasted carrots. And since he had cookies on the brain, he bought those ingredients, along with ice cream and whipped cream because if there was anything he loved more than warm, freshly baked cookies, it was warm, freshly baked cookies à la mode.

He figured there was plenty for three people to do. Making the cookies, cleaning the vegetables, making the herb butter—

Hopefully her movie wasn’t too long. He didn’t want them eating too late.

And hopefully she didn’t empty that bottle of wine.

They really did need it for later.

After her second conversation with Spencer, she had to hope he’d finally gotten the importance of their strategy through his thick skull. Seducing their boss meant a sensual atmosphere, breezy conversation, and sexy looks.

Not debates about vocabulary.

Shaking off her frustration, she returned to the sofa and sat beside Hotch, making sure to press herself completely against him. When she noticed his empty glass of wine, she pouted and leaned over him, pressing her chest in his face as she reached for the bottle.

“We’re hanging out,” she said, refilling the glass. “So, you need more.”

He cleared his throat. “O—ok. Is everything… ok? Did you and Reid need help with something?”

She giggled, a million raunchy responses rushing through her head. “No, no. Don’t you worry. Once he comes in, we’re going to watch a movie.”

“Oh. That sounds… nice.”

On cue, Spencer returned to the living room and dimmed the lights at her request. When he went to sit in the armchair, she shot her hand out like a frog catching a fly and tugged him to the sofa. He blinked quickly, clearly confused, as he dropped beside her.

God, for a literal genius, this guy really was a fucking idiot.

But at least she had step one done on her master plan—sandwich herself between the men.

It was the optimal position for step two. With a giggle, she grabbed the remote and navigated to the film. When Spencer saw the title, he perked up.

“I love foreign films. I’ve never heard of this one, but I assume it’s French?”

“It is.” She turned to Hotch. “I hope that’s ok with you. My friends were raving about it. It’s pretty short, too.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. That’s fine.”

With one final smirk, she started the movie. Opening credits and a slow, pop song faded into a passionate love scene—one that earned the spicy little French film the NC-17 label. She bit her lip, trying to hold in her giggle as the female main character was pressed into the wall of the shower and fucked from behind by her love interest. Everyone was naked and wet and…

It was exactly what she needed to set the mood. She glanced between the men. Spencer narrowed his eyes, head tilted as he watched, as if the new angle would help him understand the film better. She suspected the movie was nothing like the foreign films he watched. Hotch, on the other hand, was unblinking and unmoving, his face devoid of any emotion. The only interesting thing she noticed about his body language was how he clenched his hands into fists, the veins protruding from his skin.

His tension was the perfect segue into step two—assuming her gruff boss didn’t turn her away. Because if he did… not only would she be mortified forever, but it’d put an end to their evening before it even began.

The team better have been right about her being the Hotch Whisperer.

“Oh, Hotch,” she whispered, leaning into him, one hand on his thick thigh, the other pressing atop a fist, “you’re stressing me out with how tense you are. Let me massage your hands. My nail tech just gave me the most incredible one this morning."

He turned his head so sharply, she was starting to think Morgan was right about him being a robot. “You want to… massage my hands?”

“Yes!” She pouted, sliding her hand up his thigh to grab his other fist. “I can tell you’re stressed. Carrying all that around with you isn’t healthy.”

To her surprise, Spencer leaned over and said, “Hand and feet massages are scientifically proven to help circulation. Studies have also shown improvements in sleep and mood, as well as decreased anxiety levels.”

Finally! She didn’t think the genius had it in him to play along.

“Please?” She squeezed both of Hotch’s hands. “I can tell you need it.”

Hotch blinked slowly—just once. “I… ok. I… suppose I have been… a little stressed.”

Smirking, she grabbed the fresh bottle of aromatherapy lotion she’d purchased just for tonight from the coffee table. Her set-up had included strategically placing it for this exact moment. “Then relax,” she cooed. “We’ll start with your right hand.”

With some reluctance, Hotch gave her his hand. She squeezed some of the lotion into her own—a delightfully light scent, just a tad bit smoky with touches of vanilla—and began rubbing his skin. When she interlocked their fingers and squeezed, he let out the most delicious exhale, clearly surprised by her roughness.

Maybe getting to step three would be even easier than she thought.

As they watched the movie, she hummed gently, working his right hand between both hers. She’d dig her thumbs into his palm and slid them up to his fingers, where she’d work each thick digit with care. God… she was horny just looking at how big his hands were.

It’d been a while, and boy did she have plans for tonight.

With her seduction in mind, she asked, “Does that feel good, sir? Do you like when I rub you?”

His gaze darted between his hand and her face. He swallowed and offered a curt nod. “It—yes. It… feels nice.”

“What did you say this movie was about?” Spencer asked, causing her to roll her eyes. “My French isn’t perfect, but the title roughly translates to Sweet Temptations, so I thought it was about a baker or something. But it’s been entirely erotic—”

Ok. She was going to have to rush into step two-point-five if Spencer was going to keep running his big mouth.

“Reid, since you know so much about massages, maybe you can help me?” Pouting, she flipped onto her side, so she faced Hotch but her legs could cross Spencer’s lap. “I’m having the worst cramps in my feet. Could you rub them for me?”

“Uh—”

Fed up with his bullshit, she ran the ball of her foot over his crotch. Spencer nearly leapt off the couch, eyes wide as his hands fell to both her ankles. She smirked, and after squeezing more lotion into her hands, tossed him the bottle.

“Please—” She batted her eyelashes and tried to run her foot along him again. But his grip kept her immobile which… admittedly was doing more for her than it should’ve. “—Dr. Reid?”

Spencer stared at her, blinking quickly. His lips parted ever so slightly, like he was about to speak, but no words escaped. Deciding she’d done enough with him for now, she refocused her efforts on Hotch, abandoning his right hand for his left. As she replicated her movements, she glanced up at him, offering her best bedroom eyes.

“How do you feel, sir?” God, she hoped she was giving sultry and not phone sex operator. “Am I making you feel good?”

Hotch swallowed, gaze locked on his hand being worked between hers. Interestingly, his other hand was back to clenching, digging into his thigh like he was in pain. And…

Oh. She giggled. He was. Because it might’ve been dimly lit in her living room, but some combination of her hand massage, the endless softcore porn playing on the television, and her wanton behavior had his jeans tenting.

Perfect.

They were nearly on step three. And her teachers used to say she’d never amount to anything. Look at her now!

But before Hotch could respond, she felt it. Two, lotion filled hands grabbing a hold of her right foot. Fingers trailing from her heel, to her arch, to her toes, and then back, before wrapping around her ankle. The touch was light, more a tease than a massage, but it made her gasp.

“Spencer!” She let out a very authentic—but ok, slightly theatrical—moan. “Oh my god. That feels so good. Please don’t stop. I need it.”

And that’s when she heard it: the matching, hitched breaths. From Spencer, a staggered swallow, as hesitant hands worked on her foot. From Hotch, a choking inhale, as she interlocked their fingers and pressed their palms together.

They’d fallen right into her trap. Hell, if the BAU didn’t work out, at least she knew with her scheming ability, transitioning to unsub was always on the table.

With one last squeeze of his hand, she let go and leaned into Hotch. “You’re still so tense, sir.” She pouted, squeezing his shoulders and running her hands down his chest. “Everywhere. Your jaw, your back, your…”

Her hands dropped his thighs. When she ghosted her fingers across the bulge in his jeans, those dark, brown eyes widened, and his breath caught. “Let me make that feel good too,” she teased, smiling up at him. “It’ll help relieve some of that stress, don’t you think?”

Hotch didn’t immediately respond, only staring at her with a clenched jaw. A muscle twitched, and his hands fisted into his thighs.

Meanwhile, Spencer switched to her other foot, running his knuckles along her arch. She let out a whining moan and covered Hotch’s hands with her own. “Please, sir?” she asked, biting her lip.

He still said nothing, but his hands dropped limply to the sofa, giving her clear access to exactly what she wanted. Feeling like a little kid on Christmas, she hurried to unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans to mid-thigh, until his erection was free and—

Oh. Fuck. Her boss had a big cock—a pretty one at that. Painfully hard, leaking at the tip, and with the kind of veins that no sex toy could properly duplicate. She wrapped her hand around it, her thoughts racing with all the depraved plans she had for their night. And now that she had her hands on the goods, the team had no reason to worry—turning Hotch’s frown upside down was as easy as sucking his dick. Which…

She wasted no time doing.

Leaning over, she placed a soft kiss to the tip and ran her tongue down the side, humming in delight as his hips jumped, like he was just desperate for her to take him deep. But she enjoyed the tease, especially with how pent up her poor Unit Chief was. A furrowed brow, fisted hands, a clenched jaw…

Oh, he was so going to break tonight.

With a hum, she finally took him into her mouth. Her hands worked in tandem, eager strokes joining every rise and fall of her lips, and twist of her tongue, and vibrations from her giggles of delight. Hotch hissed, his hands at his sides gripping into the couch cushions. Admittedly, she was disappointed to see him still holding back because…

Well, she liked having her hair pulled.

“Sir.” She tapped his cock against her tongue, her gaze set on his. “Relax. This isn’t going to work if you don’t take it easy.” Smirking, she took him as deep as she could go, choking as his cock hit the back of her throat before withdrawing. Hotch gasped, head falling back. “Good job, sir. That’s it.”

But as she kept working on Hotch, Spencer’s hands dropped from her feet with an exhaled, “What the fuck is going—”

Seriously? How did he think a threesome was going to start? Obviously, a dick was getting sucked, and tonight was about Hotch. Groaning, she interrupted with, “Reid, higher. I need you to go higher.”

“What are you—”

“Reid.” She glared as she pumped Hotch’s cock in her fist. Hard, wet, and so terribly tempting. “Do me a favor and use that Pretty Boy mouth for something else. Go higher.”

Spencer continued to stare at her, golden-brown eyes wide and pink lips parted. His gaze jumped from her hand at Hotch’s cock and back to her face. When he didn’t move, she ran her foot along his crotch, smirking when her toes ghosted the first hint of his interest.

Good. If he ruined this, she’d make his life a living hell. He’d said he was on board—insisted, multiple times, in fact—so why was he looking at her like he didn’t know what was going on?

With a huff, she wiggled her hips and returned to sucking Hotch’s cock. She moaned around the length, loving the velvet feel of his skin against her tongue. Hotch let out another hiss, the first of his hands finally tracing up her bare arm and to her shoulder. He squeezed, before bringing his hands to her hair and pulling.

Fuck.

Ok.

Now it was a party.

She moaned around him, causing him to groan. And when she felt two hesitant hands slide up the back of her thighs, her eyes nearly rolled back. Pulling off Hotch, she turned to Spencer and said, “Higher. And mouth, now.”

Spencer swallowed, his hands reaching her hips. She smirked and used her free hand to shove the shorts down. With a wiggle, they dropped to her knees, and his hands slowly traveled to her ass. But when a single finger traced up the lace cut of her panties, curious but not exploratory, she was ready to kick him.

“Reid!” she cried. “God, do you not know how to listen to directions? Do you need them coming from Hotch?” She pulled her panties to the side so her desperate cunt was visible. Spencer choked, and growing more furious by the second, she turned back to Hotch and said, “Sir, can you tell Spencer to—” She cut herself off, taking a moment to press little kisses from the head of his cock down the sides. “—be good and listen to me?”

Hotch tightened his grip on her hair, his eyes still closed, his head still back. He moaned when she once again pulled him deep into her mouth, managing to reply with a gravelly, “Reid. Do what she says.”

To her delight—and ok, relief—Spencer finally listened to directions. Two, big hands grabbed her hips, and then there was a hot mouth pressed right between her legs. Soft lips, then a tentative swipe of his tongue and then—

Oh fuck.

Ten fingers dug into her skin as he shifted closer on the sofa, his movements as angry, as rough as their frequent verbal sparring. He spread her apart, mouthing from her clit to her clenching hole, panted words she barely made out vibrating against her.

“—the fuck is happening—”

Her eyes rolled back as he sucked at her clit, stopping every few seconds to flick his tongue.

“—did you drug the wine—”

One hand slipped between her thighs, pressing a thick finger into her, followed quickly by another. He moved the pair fast and deep, curling the digits with every withdrawal so it’d hit that perfect place inside her. She whined into Hotch’s thigh, only able to stroke him slowly with how much Spencer was distracting her.

“—why do you taste so fucking good—”

Her back arched as he increased his pace, the squelching from his fingers inside her combining with Hotch’s deep groans from the other end of the sofa. With her face in his thigh, her fist tight around his cock, and Spencer’s mouth hot on her clit, she cried out, her entire body convulsing as the pleasure tore through her. Hotch was petting her hair, Spencer was still tonguing and fingering her through the waves, and she was reduced to a whining, whimpering mess as every inch of her ignited.

“—fuck what are we doing—"

She hummed, wiggling her hips as the pulses quieted. Deliciously sated, she could finally think straight—and move on to bigger and better things. As she bit her lip, she glanced between Hotch, his poor cock still painfully hard and leaking at the tip, and Spencer, who was staring at her, eyes glassy, face glistening from her arousal, and one hand palming the bulge in his pants.

Much bigger things.

With a giggle, she jumped to her feet and stood in front of the TV, so she could have the perfect view of her men. After fixing her panties, she tugged her top off, so she remained in the lacy, red set she’d bought just for their evening, and powered down the movie so there’d be no distractions.

She had plenty in store to entertain them.

“We haven’t gotten all that tension out yet, have we sir?” When she rubbed herself through her panties and let out a whimpered gasp, both men groaned.  “So… it’s a good thing I had just the solution in mind.” Shaky legs brought her in front of Hotch, and she leaned over him, hands on his knees and breasts in his face. “But first, I have two questions for you.”

He stared at her, jaw clenched, dark brown eyes wide. “Yes?”

“Do you want my lingerie on—” She slid her hands up her bare stomach to her chest, where she lowered both bra straps. “—or off?”

A whining “what the fuck is going on” from Spencer was silenced by Hotch’s demanding, “On.”

“As you wish, sir. Second question…” When she wrapped her hand around his aching cock, he hissed. “How do you want to fuck me?”

That discerning, dark gaze swept up and down her body. He wet his lips, and God if the visual didn’t make her want to mount him right then and there. But he said nothing, only tilting his head like he was deep in thought. Beside him, Spencer stuttered out, “Seriously, what is—”

Ugh. She didn’t have the patience for this. Decision made, she returned to the sofa, this time on all fours, her face to Spencer and her ass to Hotch. As she slid her panties back to the side, smirking as Hotch let out a deep grunt and shifted on the sofa behind her, she said, “Spencer, pants off.”

Golden-brown, saucer-wide eyes studied her. “I—you—my—” He swallowed. “What is—”

When Hotch grabbed her hips from behind, she bit her lip. “Sir? A little help, please?”

“Reid,” he barked, rubbing his cock along her clit. “You’re always talking about wanting to shut her up.” Hotch pressed into her with a deep thrust and an even deeper groan. “Here’s your chance.”

She gasped, head falling forward as Hotch settled inside her. Fuck did he feel good. It’d been a while, and his cock was so big, the stretch had her toes curling into the sofa and her hands grabbing whatever they could. One held the cushion so she wouldn’t collapse, while the other clung to Spencer’s knee. Spencer let out another one of those choking noises, and for a panicked moment, she worried he’d ruin their night after she finally got into the good stuff.

He insisted he’d be fine—multiple times! So why was he now being such a killjoy?

As Hotch began to fuck her with brutal snaps of his hips, she lifted her head, whining as she stared at Spencer. She knew she must’ve looked ridiculous, between her rolling eyes and quivering lips but God was it hard to focus when her boss was fucking her.

Spencer swallowed, and to her relief, finally began unbuckling his belt. But he was too fucking slow, so she began pawing at the metal too, only for him to swipe her needy hands away. “You’re pulling it in the wrong direction,” he panted, hands shaking. “Just let me—”

“You’re taking too long—”

“Then just let me unbuckle it—”

“You two!” Hotch barked, his thrusts halting. He gripped her hips, his cock remaining fully inside her. “Play nice and work together.”

God, she could’ve come just from that. Instead, she pouted and glanced up at Spencer, giving her best bedroom eyes. He stared down at her, shaky hands finally removing his belt and lowering his pants until his hard cock sprung free.

She bit her lip.

Bigger and better things, indeed.

The minute she had him in her mouth, his hands were in her hair, tugging and cursing the deeper she took him. Her eyes rolled back in her head, absolutely floating from Hotch’s furious thrusts and firm grip on her hips, and Spencer’s cock hitting the back of her throat while he cried out.

“What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck,” he whined, hovering over her as his hands guided her head up and down. “Fuck, this feels so good—”

“See what happens when you two get along?” Hotch smacked her ass, and she squealed, nearly choking on Spencer’s cock. “If only you’d listened earlier.”

Oh god. If only she’d had this idea earlier.

Because yeah, this was going to tick off some entries on her bucket list, but it might just round out her sexual fantasies for the rest of her life—and manage to shut Spencer up in the process. Although, he wasn’t exactly being quiet. Hotch let out deep grunts every few moments, but it was Spencer who was vocal, panting chokes lost in his throat every time she used her hands or kissed the tip of his cock.

“How is this happening—”

“Oh, shit that feels—”

“Am I dreaming or—”

“Fuck, slow down, or I’m—”

That pulled her attention away from his cock. She pouted and pushed at Hotch, until he withdrew. Then, she looked between the men, both with messy hair and glossy eyes. “Time to switch.” She hummed and crawled across the sofa until she reached Spencer. “It’s only fair.”

Spencer let out another toe-curling whine as she threw her leg over his hips and lowered herself onto him. She threw her head back, moaning as she settled onto him, his big cock hitting that spot deep inside her. Her hands clung to his shoulders, and she turned to Hotch, nodding for him to move closer. Wordlessly, he slid across the cushions until she could once again take him in her mouth.

“I think I might’ve died on the drive over—FUCK!” Spencer gripped her hips, head falling back as she began to move on his lap, starting with a full rise and fall. One that had his cock completely out until she slammed back down. Again, and again, and again. “Oh my god.”

 “Reid’s been on the team for years,” Hotch panted, hand firm on her chin as he worked his cock in and out of her mouth, “and I’ve never heard him curse before tonight.”

She smirked, increasing her speed both with her fist on Hotch and her hips on Spencer. Sure, her thighs and jaw were already sore but… she didn’t mind the pain when everything else felt so fucking good.

“Well,” she moaned, kissing the tip of Hotch’s cock and letting her tongue flick at the slit until he hissed, “there’s a lot I’m sure will be a first for him tonight.”

Beneath her, Spencer whined, head lulling into the sofa, his eyes nearly crossed. “There’s—there’s more—fuck!” As she rolled her hips, he met her gaze, tears building at the corners of his eyes. “It feels—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“You need to make her cum again, Reid,” Hotch demanded. “Touch her clit. Unless you need me to demonstrate?”

Now it was her turn for her eyes to cross. From Hotch’s tone and his cock on her tongue, but mainly from Spencer’s deft fingers back between her legs. Spencer frantically rubbed at her clit, and she moaned around Hotch, her entire body shaking as the first waves of her orgasm snuck up on her. She clenched around Spencer’s cock, and he hissed, his fingers at her hip digging into her skin.

“Fuck!” She threw her head back, gasping as the pleasure tore through her. Her toes curled, her fist tightened around Hotch, and she slammed herself one final time on Spencer as the white blinded her. “Oh my god yes yes yes yes—”

“Good job, Reid.” Hotch tugged at her hair, trying to pull her attention back to his weeping cock. “I’m proud of you.”

Spencer whined, his hands sliding up her stomach to her breasts. “Can you—can you keep going because I—I—”

She moaned, shaking her head. “No, no. I have something else planned.” When she pulled herself off him, his wet cock slapping into her thigh, he let out a pathetic cry. “I’m going to sit on the couch. You two stand.” She pouted. “Don’t want to ruin my knees given the job and all.”

Like a gymnast, she rolled onto the cushion and sat up straight, primly placing her hands on her knees and looking between both men. Neither moved, instead continuing to stare at her, lips parted and cocks hard.

“Well?” She bit her lip, head on a swivel as she looked between them. “Get up. I want you to cum on my face. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

Hotch grunted and stood, needing no further prompting. The minute he was in front of her, she had her lips and fist back around him, taking him as deep as she could go. But from the corner of her eye, she watched Spencer on the sofa, staring at her with wide eyes and a pathetically hard cock straining into his stomach.

“What the fuck,” he whined, running both hands into his hair. “Seriously, is this a dream—”

“Reid.” When Hotch leaned over and grabbed Spencer’s arm, tugging him up, she almost came on the spot. “What did I say earlier about listening to her?”

“I—” Spencer swallowed, shaky feet bringing him in front of her. “I’m just so confused—”

“It’s up to you,” she purred, grabbing him with her free hand. “I don’t have to make you cum—”

“No,” he begged. “Please. I—I—just don’t—”

But whatever he was whining about caught in his throat as she sucked him deep. What followed was a delicious few minutes of bouncing between the men, her hands working in tandem and her mouth alternating. Hotch kept playing with her nipples through the lace of her bra—maybe Spencer was right about the red—while Spencer had imbedded his hands in her hair, pulling and tugging with every one of her movements.

As their breathing became more erratic, she hummed and sat back, leaving only her hands to do the work. From the way his lips quivered, and his belly shook beneath his button-up, Spencer was going to cum first. Smirking, she tightened her fist and pumped him faster.

“This is a first for me,” she teased. “Make it memorable, Reid?”

Apparently, that’s all it took. He cried out, hot spurts of cum hitting her cheek, chin, and neck. She moaned as it settled on her skin, continuing to work him through his orgasm. Once he let out a final, paltry cry, she took him deep, letting her tongue trace every inch of his cock. With a soft kiss to the tip, she turned her attention to Hotch.

“You too, sir. But… aim somewhere easier to clean?”

Pouting, she stuck her tongue out. Spencer choked, dropping beside her on the sofa, continuing those moaning whimpers that made her so fucking wet. Meanwhile, Hotch growled, especially when she moved both hands onto him, working him frantically in her fists. She managed only another thirty seconds or so before he hissed and knocked her hands away.

With a step forward, he aimed directly for her mouth, and her eyes rolled back as his release hit her skin. Her lips, her tongue, her jaw. She moaned and kept her tongue out, watching as he panted and worked himself in his fist, making sure every last drop was gone.

“Clean it up,” he demanded.

“Yes, sir.” She swallowed what was in her mouth and then used her tongue to clean the cum lingering on the tip. With one final kiss, she smiled up at him. “Thank you, sir. I hope the tension is gone, now.”

To her shock—and delight—Hotch let out a toe-curling chuckle and dropped beside her on the sofa. And God was the warm male skin sandwiching her on each side, along with their labored breathing, just the most magical thing in the world.

Maybe she needed to write Rossi a thank-you note.

On shaky legs, she stood, knowing she needed to pee and clean the remaining cum from her face. Spencer and Hotch stared up at her, both deliciously disheveled even if their clothes had remained on. Spencer’s curls were an absolute mess, and his shirt was untucked and half unbuttoned. Hotch was tucking himself back in his jeans, dark hair falling into his eyes, and sweat slicking up his muscular arms.

Ugh… she couldn’t wait for round two.

“You two be good and stay here,” she said, fixing her panties and bra. “I’ll be right back.”

And when she sauntered out of the room, she knew she had two sets of eyes on her until she disappeared from view.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

Spencer panted, willing himself to blink slowly and breath evenly. But he couldn’t. Because how—why—he didn’t—

Fuck. Maybe he was dead. Maybe his car had crashed, or D.C. had an earthquake and the building collapsed on him, or he’d actually developed schizophrenia as he always feared and was having a psychotic break—

“Did you know that was going to happen?”

Spencer swallowed, his gaze darting to Hotch beside him.

Hotch.

His Unit Chief.

His boss.

Who’d just—they’d just—what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—

“No,” Spencer croaked, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t and I… I’m still not convinced it actually happened.”

Hotch laughed—and ok, what further proof did Spencer need that none of this was real?

“It definitely happened,” Hotch murmured, rubbing both his hands over his face. “She seduced us. I should be worried about the many rules we’ve just broken but instead I’m… impressed. What a fucking tease, that one.”

Spencer gulped. “I… I really didn’t know.”

“Had you done that before?”

He choked. “Like—like sex? Yes! I don’t care what Morgan says. I’m not a virgin!”

“Well, evidently not anymore—if you were. I meant…” Hotch waved between the two of them. “With a third-party present.”

“No, never. You?”

“One time in law school, Haley and I had sex while my roommate was asleep in the room. He let me know after the fact that he was awake and too afraid to interrupt.” Hotch laughed again—and seriously, what the fuck was going on? “But… not like this.” He turned to Spencer. “It wasn’t as weird as I thought it’d be. But I guess that’s what happens when you trust the people you’re with.”

“Y—yeah. It…” He ran his hands through his curls, willing his dick not to get hard again. “She…”

Hotch smirked. “I know. She’s…”

“Fuck,” was all Spencer managed.

“Still hate her?”

“Maybe more than before.” Spencer pulled his hair. “Because now I know what the alternative is and… what are the odds of it happening again?”

“I don’t know. You’re usually the statistician. What were the odds of it happening once?”

Before Spencer could respond, she strutted back in, hair up, face damp, and ice cream in hand. Dropping beside them on the sofa, she propped her feet on the coffee table and ate a spoonful straight from the carton.

He winced. Yes, there’d been a lot of… sharing that night, but not food. And food he needed for dinner!

Unless…

Maybe dinner wasn’t happening.

She handed Spencer and Hotch spoons and then ate another mouthful. “Mhm, fuck this is good. I love fancy flavors, but sometimes vanilla truly hits the spot.” While he debated the merits of eating some after she double dipped, Hotch took his own spoonful. “Although, sometimes vanilla is… boring.”

“Is it now?” Hotch asked, going back for seconds. “Why do you say that?”

“Because it doesn’t challenge you. And I want to be challenged. In fact, I got so carried away that I nearly forgot my initial plans for tonight.” She licked her spoon, gaze darting between the two of them. “There’s something on my bucket list that I’ve wanted to try since I first discovered porn as a teenager.”

Spencer choked, and Hotch asked, “Which would be?”

“Well…” One hand dropped to his thigh, while the other landed on Hotch. “I’ve always wanted to be taken by two men… together.”

“You’ll need to be more descriptive than that.” Hotch gripped her chin, head tilting as he studied her. “I don’t accept half-assed profiles and the same goes for half-assed requests.”

“Fine. I want you two to fuck me at the same time.”

It was probably good Spencer hadn’t eaten any of the ice cream, because he might’ve choked on the spoon and actually died.

“The—the same time?” Spencer stuttered. “Like—”

“Double penetration,” she replied, smiling innocently. “What do you say?” She turned to Hotch. “Will you fuck me in the ass?”

Hotch tugged one of her bra straps down, until her nipple peaked over the cup. “What was that?”

“Will you fuck me in the ass, sir?”

“Better. And since you asked so nicely, yes, I will.”

She smirked. “Reid?”

Spencer swallowed, blinking quickly. “What?”

“Are you in?”

“I—” Gulping, he turned to Hotch, who merely gave him the same look he gave him in the field. The stern eyes and flat lips, the you know what to do face. “Yes.”

She giggled and jumped to het feet. “Fantastic. I’ll put this away and get the bedroom ready. Did you bring the lube?”

“The—what?”

“What the hell did you even bring?” Shaking her head, she grabbed the ice cream and spoons. “That’s fine. I’m pretty sure I have a bottle somewhere.” She skipped across the living room but stopped before she hit the kitchen. “Bedroom in five, boys.”

When she disappeared, Spencer squeaked out, “What the fuck. Why would she think I have lube?!”

Hotch chuckled and stood. “I’m not sure. Remind me to have her drug tested on Monday.”

Spencer swallowed. “Mon—Monday? Oh god. We—work—”

But Hotch squeezed his shoulder. “Relax. This will only be weird if you make it weird.”

“How—how are you so calm about this?!”

“Because a beautiful woman just let me fuck her and cum on her face, and now she’s offering to let me fuck her in the ass.” Hotch shrugged. “I know you’re not a virgin—obviously, given tonight—but word of advice from someone with more experience than you? This doesn’t happen for most men.”

“So… Haley didn’t…?”

Hotch laughed. “Definitely not. Sex is sex, but as she teased, it’s usually vanilla. So, enjoy this, because statistically—and I know you love your statics—it won’t happen again.”

He gulped. “Right. So, we… we really… at the same time?”

“Yes.” Hotch maneuvered him towards the bedroom. “Good thing we work well together, Reid. Just follow my lead.”

Spencer swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

When they made it to the bedroom, she was completely naked and sitting atop the bed, smelling a bottle of lube. She grinned. “I knew I had some. It’s strawberry flavored.”

His gaze jumped from her perky tits to her bare cunt. He whimpered. If this was real life, what was heaven like?

Hotch squeezed his shoulder again, bringing him back to earth.

“Ok!” She grinned, spreading her legs. “Both of you get naked. I’ll get on top of Reid, and Hotch will come from behind. Make sense?”

But Spencer just whined.

Maybe he was the one who needed to be drug tested.

Oh, what a night it’d been so far! She felt delirious as she watched Hotch and Spencer, a hand between her legs as she admired the striptease. Hotch had a delicious little happy trail of dark hair that she desperately wanted to trace with her tongue—another time—and Spencer had a surprisingly toned stomach that had her wondering how the genius spent his spare time.

They were equally distracted as they undressed, both with tunnel vision on the lazy flicks of her wrist on her cunt. She was still pathetically wet and ready to go after round one, so all she was doing was tracing her fingers through her arousal and occasionally rubbing her clit. Just to tease herself for what was coming—her.

She giggled again. Really, she couldn’t have written this better!

Finally, Hotch and Spencer stood before her, gloriously naked and cocks hard. And even though Hotch had offered some toe-curling demands during their time on the sofa, even she didn’t expect him to grab Spencer’s shoulder and push him forward.

“You heard her,” Hotch said. “Lay back. She’s going to ride you. But first, you need to keep her occupied while I get her ready.”

Spencer swallowed, looking over his shoulder at Hotch before dropping onto the bed. She wasted no time straddling him, immediately rubbing her cunt over his hard cock. He hissed and grabbed her hips, stilling her.

“Ass up,” Hotch demanded, coming to the edge of the bed. “Relax and let us take care of you.”

Again giggling, she did exactly that, laying atop Spencer until her breasts pressed into his chest—making him gasp—and her ass was perched in the air. Hotch spread her open, making her gasp this time. Everything about this was new to her. She’d barely let a man squeeze her butt let alone…

Another giggle. Seriously, was something wrong with her?

But her giggling devolved into a cry of surprise as something warm dripped between her cheeks. Hotch teased the wetness over her hole with his thumb, and she whined into Spencer’s chest as she realized what he’d done.

He’d spit on her.

Oh, fuck. That night was going to rewrite every one of her dirty fantasies.

“Reid, keep her distracted.” Even though she couldn’t see Hotch, she heard the lube bottle open. “Once I start, she’s going to be wiggling all over you.”

“Th—that’s ok,” Spencer choked, his eyes locked on her breasts. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure you don’t. But I need her relaxed.” When a slickened finger breached her entrance, she squealed, her entire body shaking. “See?”

“Yes, sir.” Spencer cupped her cheeks, golden-brown eyes meetings hers. “You need to relax.”

A second finger pressed into her. The stretch was borderline painful, and she gripped Spencer’s shoulders as she whined. How could she even describe the sensation? It was so different than what she was used to, and yet, it didn’t feel bad. If anything, it had her eyes fluttering shut and her grinding on Spencer’s cock.

He groaned, and then his mouth was on hers, pulling her into a toe-curling kiss. One that was deliciously dirty after everything she’d done that day, and fuck if that didn’t get her grinding against him harder. His hand slipped between her legs, rubbing at her clit as his tongue breached her mouth. She moaned into the kiss, gasping as Hotch’s fingers continuing to work her open.

And when two fingers became three, she bit Spencer’s lip, her nails digging into his skin. “Fuck,” she cried, her legs shaking. “Is it going to fit?”

When Hotch laughed from behind her, she whimpered. “It’ll fit,” he replied sternly. “As long as you’re a good girl and listen to directions.” His fingers disappeared, and a slick hand slapped her ass. “Alright, Reid. You’re up first.”

Spencer gulped, two big hands landing on her hips. She pressed kisses up and down his neck and chest as he moved between them, helping to line her up with his cock. And when she lowered herself in one desperate drop, they both cried out. Him, a choking “fuck.” Her, a gasping “yes.”

“Nicely done.” Hotch pushed her flat against Spencer and forced her ass into the air. She felt the slide of more lube—and smelled the strawberry, too. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She whimpered again, her excited giggles of before replaced with nerves. “Just… slow, please?”

“Of course. Reid, don’t move until I move. And I want you kissing her. You two are always running your mouths at each other. Find a better alternative.” Hotch squeezed her ass with both hands, and then she was being spread and slicked up again. “Relax.”

The first press of his cock had her eyes widening and her lips parting. As instructed, Spencer caught her mouth in another kiss, one that was simultaneously leading but soft. It was the exact distraction she needed as Hotch bottomed out, his big cock stretching her fully. And with Spencer already inside her…

“Oh my god,” she slurred into Spencer’s mouth, feeling positively drunk at the sensation. “Oh my god.”

“Hotch,” Spencer cried, “she—she feels so—so—”

“Tight?” Hotch grunted and smacked her ass. “Of course, she does. She’s doing so well, isn’t she?” When she whined, he laughed, withdrew, and surged forward with a slow but brain-scrambling thrust. “Now let’s see how well she takes both of us. We’ll alternate. Me, then you. Understand?”

“Ye—yes sir.”

Hotch repeated his thrust of moments before and then—then—then—

Oh my god.

Spencer canted his hips upwards, slamming into her with a brutal intensity that had her crying out again. The minute his hips dropped, Hotch was pounding forward again. In, out, in, out, in, out. A seesaw she was in the middle of, her boss and her work rival alternating who was properly fucking her.

She was lost in the sensations. The skin, the slick, the grunts, the gasps, the pleasure—

Hands explored, sweat dripped, skin slapped.

She felt barely conscious, the jumbled noises escaping her lips closer to whines than articulated words. Four hands grabbed her, each warm and firm. The back of her head, the thickness of her ass. The smoothness of her thigh, the tautness of her cheek. Her mouth parted for every thrust, every ass slap, every male grunt. But Spencer surged forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss so dirty she wondered if she’d ever be clean again.

“That’s it,” Hotch panted, a hot hand pressing into her lower back. “You’re doing so good for us. Is this what you wanted? Is this why you seduced us like a needy slut?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she whined—or thought she did. She wasn’t entirely sure full words were forming, especially as Spencer kissed her. “Fuh yuh! Alf fuh yuh!”

“Reid.” Another ass slap. “I can’t understand her with your tongue in her mouth.”

Spencer moaned, his mouth trailing from hers to her neck. “She—she said it’s all for you.”

Hotch grunted. “For me? Why for me?”

“Sad!” she cried, eyes rolling back as the first flickers of her orgasm approached. “Monster Hotch!”

“She said—”

“I got it,” Hotch interrupted, squeezing her ass again. “You think I’ve been a monster, princess? And you thought what, your little pussy could tame the beast?”

She glanced over her shoulder, drool practically dripping from her lips. “Or my ass.”

“Fuck,” Spencer whined, burying his face in her chest. “I really think I hate you.”

Turning back to Spencer, she bit his lip and stuttered out, “Ye-yeah? Will you still after you cum inside me?”

“Oh my god.”

Golden-brown eyes crossed. He looked positively stupid and wasn’t that just a dream come true?

She giggled.

Cum true.

Man, she really was cock drunk.

“The next time you harass me about my coffee creamer,” she panted, legs shaking, “I’ll remind you how I fucked you dumb.”

He surged forward, capturing her in another brutal kiss. “Then I’ll remind you how you begged me to cum—”

“What did I say about playing nice?” Hotch dug both hands into her ass, his thrusts becoming more frantic by the second. He groaned. “Fuck. Never mind. Keep going. I think your arguing is going to make her cum.”

Spencer whined and threw his head back. “I-I felt her getting tighter, but I thought—”

“Reid. Do what you’re told.”

“Yes, sir.” Following another rough kiss, he gasped out, “Yesterday you told me I was so fucking annoying. I’m going to continue to annoy you every day we work together, except now you’re going to remember what it felt like to have my tongue between your legs—”

“That’s it,” Hotch growled, “keep going. She’s shaking.”

“—and my cock in your mouth and your—”

“Fuck, aren’t you a pretty little slut just ours to use—”

“—because you hate me and yet you’re tightening around me like some desperate—”

“—listening to directions, such a good girl. Was this the positive reinforcement you needed—”

Deep voices and deep thrusts and deep kisses and—and—and—

Look, she’d had plenty of good orgasms in her life. In fact, that very night she’d already had two spectacular ones. But she’d never had two men whispering filth in her ears, while they fucked her.

At the same time.

And God if it wasn’t nirvana.

Ascension was the only adequate descriptor for the moment. Her body shook, her head lulled, and her mouth parted for a truly pathetic wail. She felt like she was floating as the pleasure consumed, every inch of her electrified in a searing, blinding light.

There was talking around her. Maybe her own gibberish, maybe from Spencer and Hotch. She really wasn’t sure. The only thing she processed aside from her own convulsions was the tightened grip from both men, and the matching masculine cries.

…followed by the matching sensation of both coming deep inside her.

Oh my god.

At some point, she knew she’d started giggling again. Especially when she felt Hotch pull out and some of his cum follow. Especially when four hands helped remove her from Spencer and set her on the bed.

Especially when she could barely open her eyes, instead rubbing the leaking cum from between her legs back into her cunt. Someone whined, someone groaned, and she’d decided she died and went to heaven.

There was murmured conversation, fabric shifting, and then someone was rubbing a warm washcloth between her legs.

She hummed, curling into a pillow. “Lay with me.”

To her delight, both sides of the bed dipped. When she finally opened her eyes, she found Hotch on her right and Spencer on her left, briefs back on but both so deliciously defiled. Reddened skin, messy hair, and she’d left more than a few marks on Spencer’s pretty neck.

They laid in silence, only the distant sounds of the street and their breathing echoing through the room.

“Thank you,” she said, looking between them. “I definitely get to check a few things off my bucket list.”

Hotch chuckled. “I think we should be thanking you. Right, Reid?”

Spencer whimpered. “Ye—yes. Thank you.”

“You said something earlier,” Hotch continued, “and I’m not sure if it was just… dirty talk or what but… you called me Monster Hotch. Why?”

“Oh, I didn’t coin that. Morgan did,” she replied.

“I see. You also said this was… all for me?”

She giggled because… seriously? What was it with men? Were they all this stupid? “Everyone has noticed how… grumpy and frustrated you’ve been. The entire team has been trying to cheer you up and—”

Hotch straightened, blinking quickly. Maybe more than she’d ever seen him blink, actually. “Is that why everyone keeps inviting me to things? Not that I don’t appreciate it—because I do—but even I was surprised by everyone’s… hospitality. It’s not like Morgan had ever invited me to a hockey game, or Prentiss on a double date, or Garcia—”

“You didn’t like her easy friend Claudia?” she teased.

Again, he blinked. “Oh. Was she meant to be flirting with me? I just thought she was being… nice.”

“Did you think I was just being nice?” She giggled and gently kicked Spencer. “Rossi asked us to help cheer you up, and we thought sex would do the trick.”

“We?” Spencer choked. “Hold on. Did you have this planned since you invited him over yesterday?”

She scoffed. “Um, yes? You knew that.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did! We talked about it! It was your idea!”

“My idea?” he cried. “I thought we were cooking together!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you gaslighting me?”

“Are you gaslighting me?”

Hotch sighed, laying back on the bed and closing his eyes. “You two. Play nice.”

“Spencer, you said that sex produces happy hormones and—”

“I mentioned sex with a variety of activities, including cooking as a group! Hence why I got recipe ideas from Garcia and brought two bags of groceries with me!”

“Oh.” She giggled. “Seriously? That’s embarrassing. You’re telling me you didn’t know this was what I had planned for tonight?”

“No!”

“Well. Oops. Thanks for playing along.”

Spencer grimaced. “Yeah… I guess this means we’re not making dinner?”

“What did you bring?” Hotch asked.

“Well, the main course is steak with red wine sauce—”

“I could eat steak.”

She grinned and looked between the men. “Ok, boys. Who’s up for round three?”

Twenty minutes later, they found themselves in the kitchen. She’d slipped back into her lingerie—along with Spencer’s button-up since Hotch’s polo wasn’t nearly as sexy. Both men still wandered around in just their boxer briefs, and as they split up responsibilities—Spencer putting together the salad, Hotch preparing the meat, her making the cookies—she wondered if this was a dream she’d had before.

Most definitely.

Given how late it was, they eliminated some of Spencer’s plans, but when they sat at her tiny dining table with steak, wine, salad, and the chocolate chip cookies baking, she was deliriously happy.

Deliriously loose.

Deliriously sated.

God, her toes were still curling as she thought about the evening.

Hotch ate another piece of steak, a small smile teasing his lips. “I don’t think I got a chance to say it since you two started arguing again but… thank you. Tonight did cheer me up. And I’m sorry if I’ve been… monster Hotch. I’m trying to get better about managing my stress and anger.”

She poured the last of the wine into their glasses. “Ever tried sex?”

“Oh, I’m well aware what the answer is now.” He laughed into his glass. “I really don’t think this is what Dave had in mind, however.”

Spencer winced. “What do we tell Rossi and everyone else?”

She leaned across the table, wiping a bit of salad dressing from the corner of his mouth. “That we enjoyed each other’s company over wine and a movie.”

“Ri—right.”

“As Unit Chief,” Hotch said, finishing the last of his food, “we’re not supposed to pick favorites, the same way you don’t pick favorite children. But… you two are my favorites.” He winked. “Just don’t tell your teammates.”

She smirked into her wine, sparing a glance at Spencer who studied his food, cheeks pink. “We won’t. Your secret is safe with us, Hotch.”

“And while there’s been…” Hotch grinned, lounging into his seat, “a lot I’ve enjoyed about tonight, truthfully, seeing you and Reid work together has been the biggest treat. Perhaps you two can take that compatibility and care for one another back into the office?”

She pouted. “Of course, sir. I think Reid and me will get along much better now.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “Reid and I.”

“What?”

“The grammatically correct statement would be Reid and I will get along—”

“Oh my god! Shut up!”

“As an adult, you should know the usage differences between I and me, and if you don’t, might I suggest—”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to choke you with—”

The oven timer went off. Hotch sighed. “Play nice or no dessert.”

“She started it—”

Ignoring Spencer, she pulled the cookies out of the oven and transferred them to their cooling racks. “These will need to sit for fifteen to twenty minutes. So… anyone in the mood for a shower in the meantime?” Turning to Hotch and Spencer, she pulled the latter’s shirt off and added, “I’ve got a big one. Two heads, ten settings, and the contractor said it can fit six people comfortably.”

When she got two male moans in response, she smirked and sauntered off.

Two sets of matching footsteps followed.

Maybe Spencer was right about those happy hormones. Because yeah, her body was sore, but arguably her face was in worse condition.

All because she couldn’t stop smiling.

When she flipped the water on, she giggled again.

What a night.

And with any luck, it’d be the first of many.