You'll Never Be Whole Until You Lose Control- Spencer Reid

18.) Take Me To Church

"I should've worshiped her sooner

If the Heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece

Every Sunday's getting more bleak

A fresh poison each week

"We were born sick", you heard them say it

My church offers no absolutes

She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom"

The only Heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you

I was born sick, but I love it

Command me to be well"- Take Me

To Church, Hozier

Anna

For the first time, instead of just focusing on everything Spencer was doing, I thought about what it would be like to have his cock inside of me instead of his fingers. Hot and veiny, fast strokes and so much heat that I longed for more and more with each thrust from his hand.

He was hitting that perfect spot with grace and force with two long fingers, his thumb steadily pressing into my clit. He knew exactly what to do for me, and I was happy he seemed to know my body better than myself. The body I hated so much, he treated like it was a star plucked straight from the heavens.

He made me come undone in his arms, and he gently picked up the pieces, coaxing my orgasm out with intensity. "Spencer!" I cried and shook in his arms.

I saw white and pink light resounding with adoration and something more that my heart knew more than my mind.

Love.

I knew I loved him; I loved him so much. More than I could admit. More than I could properly understand.

I love you, Spencer Reid.

I felt fuzzy and perfect as I laid back in his arms, letting him place kisses on my face, peppering me with praise. He cradled me close to him. "You did so well for me, baby," he murmured against my forehead. "Do you want to rest?" He stroked my hair.

I shook my head and opened my eyes, "no, I want to help you."

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

"You don't have to if you're tired," he said softly.

"No, I want to please you, daddy."

His eyes burned and a coy smile tugged at his lips.

I moved off his lap, getting up slowly from my bed and then dropping to my knees in front of him. "I like seeing you on your knees for me, pretty girl," he whispered as I undid his belt and unbuttoned his slacks. "You like pleasing me, don't you little one?"

I nodded as I took him out, I started placing a kiss on the tip of his cock, erect and dripping with precum.

Spencer

I used to not understand art.

I never understood how a painting or sculpture could evoke an emotion; sure, it could be pretty or interesting to look at, or even down right confusing, but I never "felt" anything.

That was until her.

Because she was art.

As if the Gods above had put all of their skilled hands into carving the most beautiful being possible, that was my Anna. Painting her with the most vibrant shades of color the human eye could perceive; lips the most vibrant rose, eyes like a forest, and hair the most shining bronze. Each imperfection was perfect to me, and I wanted kiss every purple vein and freckle. I would kneel at the feet of my makers to pray that I was good enough to deserve their masterpiece.