𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 | 𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫 (2)

Chapter 22*

*Warnings: sexual content
Also, if a section is in italics, it is a memory.
Happy reading <3

...

The blanket of black sky was so potently dark that I couldn't see the rain. But I could hear it pummelling the windows with aggressive enthusiasm. I had stayed late with Hotch so that we could drive home together. We'd both been so busy over the past week that we hadn't even been able to have an uninterrupted conversation. When that happened as it often did, we made an effort to share at least the journeys home. It was those 25 minutes that I had been looking forward to the entire day.

I was sitting opposite him at his desk where I had been for the last few hours, catching up on work of my own. I deliberately brushed my leg against his every so often, admittedly teasing him. But when I did so again, a soft smirk skated across his features and he grabbed my foot by the heel of my shoe, pulling it firmly onto his lap and holding it there while he flicked through his paperwork with his free hand. His calloused fingers stroked the soft skin of my ankle intermittently.

The silence that surrounded us was comfortable and easy. It gave me the sense that we were the only two people in the building —and the world. I remember thinking how wonderful it was to exist in synchrony with somebody like that. How difficult it was to be lonely when you had someone who understood you in every way you ever wanted to be. And how beautiful to understand them just as deeply. Eventually, I tired of paperwork and went to stretch my legs. Truthfully, I was struggling not to distract him. I itched to touch him. But, instead, I walked the floor of the BAU, returning with two cups of coffee. His black and mine with a splash of milk.

I placed his mug in front of him —careful to avoid the papers strewn in front of him— with an accompanying kiss on his cheek.

"This isn't going to work," he had said with a frustrated sigh.

"What?" I grinned, finding his discomfort endearing.

But he said, "You. Sitting next to me. It's impossible —all I want to do is kiss you."

"Well, Hotchner," I leant over him, one hand resting on the arm of his chair as his eyes inevitably strayed to my chest, "You'd better get that thought out of your system."

He smirked, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me onto his lap in such a swift motion that it made me laugh, "I may have to do just that."

I didn't have time to come up with a sarcastic retort or witty remark before his lips met mine —softly at first as I adjusted on his lap, hitching my skirt up to give myself some freedom to move. But as I squirmed on his knee, deliberately teasing him, our kisses grew harsher until they were filled with a sense of urgency.

"Stop that," he grabbed my thighs to keep me still, lifting one of my legs over his hip until I was straddling him, "You're killing me."

I only smirked in response, trying to roll my hips despite his iron grip keeping me still. I wanted him badly. I missed him. It had been a week since we'd been alone and even now we were on borrowed time. But that made it much more exciting, electric. My fingertips danced, with a mind of their own, up to his thigh and a sharp inhale escaped his gently parted lips.

"Nobody's here, Aaron." I smiled shyly, tilting his head back, with a gentle tug to his hair, so that I could trace his lips with my fingertips.

He grabbed my wrist, bringing the palm of my hand to his lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he kissed my open palm. As he did, his grip tightened on my hips, pulling me closer to him in a desperate attempt to eliminate the distance between us.