Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Be Still 🔥 (E)

Summary: When Spencer is given the all clear to "exercise" after he was shot, his girlfriend decides to go for a ride.

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Content Warning: Penetrative sex, unprotected sex

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Canes are a versatile tool. It was the first thing I learned when Spencer ditched his crutches in favor of the single mobility aid. From the way I'm describing it, it may sound lewd, but usually it wasn't. The vast majority of the tasks that involved the cane were entirely innocent and mundane.

Others, however, were not.

I couldn't tell you the first time he used that damn thing like more of a toy than a tool, but I could tell you that it forever changed the way I would see it. Between the soft taps of the wood against my backside to the way he would drag the handle so softly against my skin, my body was quickly learning to see the item as an extension of him.

Spencer was learning to treat it the same way. I knew that he was enjoying his little experiments, but it never stopped me from being caught off guard when it happened. Even when I really should've seen it coming.

"How's that, babe?" I asked as I struggled to fix the pillows on the couch without toppling over onto my boyfriend. He'd finally been given the all-clear to return to his normal daily routine, but it was still important for him to take the few chances he had to rest at home.

It was obvious to see, though, that Spencer was positively restless. He'd never been locked down like this before, and he hated being immobile and dependent much more than he'd anticipated.

"It's fine. Could be better, though," he pouted, letting his head roll to the side so I could see those puppy dog eyes clearer.

"Oh? How's that?"

He reached out and grabbed my hand before he cleverly replied, "I could have a pretty girl on my lap."

"You're funny," I said with a roll of the eyes. We both knew that it was a bad idea. He was just letting base urges trump logic, and I wasn't going to enable him. But that also meant I had to leave fast, because the second he started begging, I knew I would be fucked. Literally.

Two steps. That's as far as I made it before he stopped me. It wasn't with his hands or his words— it was with that goddamn cane.

The handle hooked around my arm, tugging me back just enough that Spencer was able to grab hold and spin me back around. If that movement wasn't dizzying enough, he dropped the cane back at his side and held onto me with both hands. One hand, as expected, held tightly to my hips to stop my retreat, but the other landed on the back of my neck. Spencer wound his fingers through the hair there like he was grabbing hold of the scruff of an animal, forcing me forward until our faces were almost touching.

"It wasn't a joke," he growled just before he kissed me. Everything about the situation was rough; our bodies were both shaking from the strain of the awkward position of me leaned over him with his feet propped up on the recliner. But the restraint was required to prevent a disaster.

At least, I was showing restraint. Spencer, though, not so much. When he let go of me, I didn't think anything of it at first. I figured he just needed the strength elsewhere. And in a way, I guess I was right, because the next thing I knew, Spencer had lifted the cane behind my back and grabbed the other end. I felt the wood press harder and harder against my back until I couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Mmmphhh!" was the sound of my muffled cries against his lips as I teetered on my toes, only barely catching myself from toppling forward.

"Be careful!" I shouted in sheer panic, "I almost fell on you!"