Ghost of You ~ Spencer Reid

Ch. 22 | Electric Touch*

"All I know, is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life."
- Electric Touch, Taylor Swift

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December, 2019:

I wasn't surprised when he called, I understood we'd have to talk it out at some point. His reinstatement was pending, and my resignation letter was sitting on my computer, just waiting to be emailed. I was excited to have some resolve, but also fearful of what was to come.

It'd been so long since we'd talked, and I mean truly talked. I shouldn't have been surprised when he sent me the address, and the restaurant was reasonably classy. I'd gone shopping with Garcia months prior, and knew exactly what dress I was gonna wear.

I remember seeing the strapless red cloth and being awestruck. I didn't have any use for it at the time, but Pen urged me to buy it regardless. I'd have to thank her for that later.

The dress was tight against my skin as I put it on, the shade of rad perfectly accenting my skin. I'd settled on more natural makeup and curled my hair, then I was ready to go. My cab's tires splashed through the streets of D.C, the street lights reflection glowing on the pavement as we pulled up to the restaurant. I took a deep breath, paid the driver and climbed out. When I'd walked in, I was surprisingly nervous. The room was dimly lit, the brick walls mounting candles above each table. The hostess showed me to my table and the waiting began. Spencer had a bad habit of running late.

To my surprise, he approached the table at seven o'clock sharp. He was dressed in a black suit, black button up underneath. His curls were tousled and slightly dampened. I guess it had started raining again at some point.

"Hi," I smiled.

"Hi," he breathed in, returning the smile. It put me slightly at ease but I still couldn't help but be nervous. We'd been through a lot. We had a lot to discuss.

The first 45 minutes consisted of small talk and occasional tension filled silence. After we'd gotten the check, Spencer called us a car. The cab dropped us off at my place and once we were inside, everything fell apart.

"I can't do this." He breathed, looking at me with desperate eyes.

"What?" I swallowed.

"Not be around you...not be with you. It's driving me insane," he sighed. He looked so sad, so defeated. We stood there a moment, silence lingering in place of what I wanted to say.

Screw it. I'm saying it.

"I love you," I sighed. "And I'm sorry."

"What're you apologizing for?"

"Saying I hate you...I could never..." I shook my head a little and let out a light laugh.

"Y/n, I never thought you hated me for a second."

"So what now?"

"I don't know...saying we love each other doesn't just fix all our problems."

"No. It's doesn't." I looked at him, and bit the inside of my lip. My heart was doing somersaults. If only love was enough.

He took a few steps forward. He then held my hips at though he were gonna kiss me, but no such thing ever happened. "So what do we do?" He whispered. He glanced down at my lips then back at my eyes, not nearly as subtly as he probably thought.

"We either give up or give in."

"So this is it?" He whispered, his hands clutched around my waists, bringing our hips flush to each other.

"This is it." I nodded, and bit on my bottom lip, looking up into his eyes. I could feel that pain in my chest, like I couldn't breathe. I could see the same feeling reflecting in his eyes towards me. Then he dipped down and connected our lips, saving us both from drowning.

I didn't let the thoughts of the past cloud my mind. I wanted more. But he denied me, pulling away to nip down my neck and whined in reply.

"I love you more than words can properly express." Is mumbled into my skin, but before I could even process what he had said, he pulled me back up towards his lips. We were insatiable as we stumbled down the hall into my bedroom. With a simple kick, my door shut, and I was gently pushed onto the soft mattress. His body quickly followed my own.

His hands were ruthless in their pursuit, pushing under my skirt and forcing my underwear to the side without hesitation. His fingers were just as quick to slip inside me easily. He groaned as he can feel my lack of hesitation to be with him between my legs.

He has waited long enough to have me again. His hand drop to his dick while the other helps position my hips. With one smooth movement, he slid inside, as if it's become a familiar place at this point. We wanted to take our time, feel this out and bask in the heat of it all, but the passion didn't make the frantic air reside.

Spencer's thrusts are staggered and rough yet a simple roll of his hips here and there caused us both to get closer and closer. I grabbed ahold of his back to ground me again, gliding my nails across the skin.

His hands are lodged on my hips, hold me down, I'd probably have crescent shaped bruising in the morning. He then pushed deeper, both of us loudly moaning at the sensation. He then returned to his tortuous act of leaving bruises down my throat column.

I couldn't help but cry out. I clung to him, holding his face against me. He didn't object and he fucked me until it felt like there's nothing else but the two of us.

Then, the world went quiet as everything left of Spencer's resolve shattered. His hands kept me down, even when I started to squirm as I came to the edge. He then buried himself to the hilt feeling the same sensation.

The feeling of his release is like medicine for the pain. It is so warm, and he was so vulnerable, that I was nearly happy that his hold on my skin was brutal. But when he let go, panting and whimpering, I realized and admired him for all that he is for the first time in a long time. Spencer Reid truly is beautiful.

"Sometimes holding upon is more painful
than letting it go," he whispered through panted breaths, quoting some poem. I just basked in the afterglow.

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