Jouska (18+) [Aaron Hotchner x Reader]

Chapter 4

"Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed. " - Leo Tolstoy

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Your breaths come sharp and short, sweat dripping from your forehead as you bounce on the balls of your feet slightly, lungs burning as you throw punches at the boxing pads that Agent Hotchner holds out in front of you.

You throw your weight into every punch, hitting out the aggression and anger at the unknown shadowy figure your mind had conjured up. The person who was trying to take your life away.

The gym smells like old rubber and sweat and Hotch calls out combination numbers over the flat snapping sound of your gloves hitting the pads. His head is down and his eyes are laser focused on you, following your every move.

You throw a punch on his left hand as his right comes up and taps you on your face. You groan in frustration.

"Come on, we've been through this!" He repeats. "Don't get too into your head. Block." He brings his own hand up to demonstrate, his thick arms flexing under his t-shirt. "When you're throwing your jabs, make sure your other hand's by your face, nice and high, okay?"

He places his hand about level with his cheek as he shifts his feet, throwing jabs at the air. You can't even pretend anymore, watching him punch and flex makes your breath hitch and your thighs squeeze .

God, you feel so naive. Stupid even. The situation is quite literally life or death and he's teaching you to defend yourself against your stalker and instead of focusing, you're imagining how strong he really is.

"Got it?" He snaps you out of your stupor. You nod. "Okay, try again. Remember, the key is to block." You nod again, and meet his pads faster and more accurately this time, blocking his attempts to get at your face.

He laughs approvingly, a grin on his face. "Alright, that's more like it! Good girl." Your heart rate increases at the praise, warmth pooling in your stomach.

Good girl?

The momentary lapse in concentration has his pad make contact with your face as you grunt. He shoots you a bewildered, slightly disappointed look.

"Okay, tell me what went wrong there, because you were doing so good." He demands. You can feel heat rising up your neck and chest while you try to play it off. Authoritative Agent Hotchner is an Agent Hotchner you hadn't had the pleasure of witnessing until today, and you think that maybe you'd want him to stick around a little longer.

Maybe you'd even push his buttons to see how far you could take it. Maybe hear him shout orders at you and lavish you with praise.

He whistles. "Hey. Over here." He claps the pads together as he narrows his eyes at you, shaking his head. You blink at him as he undoes the straps around his wrists and throws them aside, striding over to you. His shorts ride up just slightly, exposing his flexing quads as he stalks towards you.

Oh, he's solid.

He corners you against the ropes of the ring as he asks you again, his eyes burning into yours.

"What. do you. think. went. wrong?"

You blink up at him, words not coming easy now that you felt so exposed. He swallows thickly, exhaling hard through his nose. He turns to stand in the middle of the ring.

"C'mere." He beckons you forward with his fingers.

Okay.

You stomp your leg slightly, rolling your eyes. "Why? I wanna be done now, what, we haven't done enough?" His jaw ticks and his nostrils flare. He takes another harsh breath through his nose to steady himself, his eyes flicking from your eyes to your rising chest in your sports bra.