Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Study Session 🔥 (E)

Summary: Spencer really hates his student, but he can't resist her.

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Content Warning: Degradation/humiliation kink, heavy degradation, Professor/Student, implied age gap (not specified), hate fuck, fingering, penetrative sex, alcohol, drunk sex, protected sex (condom), semi-public sex

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There is a reason bars are referred to as watering holes. Aside from the sticky, sugary residue that coats the floorboards and every other surface, there is an undeniable variety amongst the patrons. I could have pretended like I was somehow above the average person at the establishment I was sitting in, but I always try my hardest not to lie if it isn't absolutely necessary.

Most nights, I was just like everyone else — seeking regrettable company to cope with the mind numbing monotony of my program.

Most nights. But not that night.

That night I saw him, still wearing his three piece suit and nursing something that matched the treacle color of his eyes while the hue of the bar lights reflected into a golden halo around his head. He looked so unfortunately, tragically beautiful seated alone at the crowded bar.

There was something else about him, though. Something strange and hollow in his usually lively movements. His hand rubbed over the back of his neck, and I wondered if it was because he felt my gaze cutting through him. My suspicion was confirmed seconds later, when he finally turned just far enough to meet my eyes through the crowd.

The contact made my heart beat harder before stopping entirely. I was so busy battling my own instincts and selfish desires that I wasn't able to respond to the challenge in his eyes. Instead, I looked away, hoping I would snap back to my senses. It wasn't for long, but it was long enough that he vanished by the time I had the courage to look for him again.

I wasn't going to chase him. If he wanted to hide among the crowds, I would let him. I would let him slip away from the watering hole back to the safety of whatever he called home.

I wasn't going to chase him, but he found me.

He passed by me with such a casual step that I almost missed him. But just as he'd felt my eyes, I felt his. My body was drawn to him like the most powerful magnet. All it took was one look, and I found myself leaving my seat and trailing after him through the back of the bar.

He had to have known that I was following him, but he never turned around to check. Maintaining the same slow pace and mysterious aura, the man led me straight out the back door and into the cool night air. The latch clicked shut, the noise making the silence of the alleyway all the more noticeable.

"Fancy meeting you here, Professor."

"My being here is odd," he said, leaning back against the brick wall and refusing to look me in the eyes, "Yours is very predictable."

"Ouch," I winced, though my body language depicted anything but a wounded pride, "You make me sound so cliché."

"Aren't you?"

Rather than falling into the trap that he'd set, I laughed. I accepted his perception and played further into it. He didn't even try to maintain our distance when I stepped closer.

"I'm sensing a lot of judgement here, Professor. Why is that? You're also here."

He finally looked at me, and it caused shivers to run down my spine.

"Unlike you, I don't have more pressing concerns."

I didn't let his words nor his boredom dissuade me. I came as close to him as I could with his stance, and then leaned forward to make up the difference.