FREAKING OUT ² ➢ spencer reid

XVI

After we finished I could barely breathe. Carefully, I got off of him, gasping for air as I steadied my hands onto his shoulders. As I swung my leg over his lap I heard him chuckle. Out of habit, I chuckled too, shaking my head as I plopped down next to him and dropped my hands. I closed my eyes and let out a satisfied sigh, hearing him shuffle around the bed beside me.

"You're so stupid," I whispered with a smile.

"I'm a certified genius who makes bad decisions, what can I say?"

I laughed again, clutching my stomach as I felt the pain in my body begin to ignite again. Throughout the entire time we had sex, despite how nice it felt, I couldn't help, but feel somewhat uncomfortable. Thanks to the multitude of injuries surrounding my body we had to get creative with positioning, so there was a lot of pausing. On more than one occasion we had to stop completely to readjust, transitioning to a slower pace to make sure I was okay.

"Is it illegal to have sex in a hospital bed?" I asked.

"Not technically, but I'm sure it's frowned upon," he responded.

I smiled and opened my eyes. As I did I noticed Reid moving to the edge of the bed, his bare ass peeking out from underneath the covers. I bit my lip and looked away, guessing he'd probably want some privacy. His body rose off the bed before he padded over to the bathroom.

Once he was gone I let out a heavy breath of air and adjusted the bed so that it was laying flat. After that I laid down on my back, staring at the ceiling as I listened to the sound of him getting dressed in the other room.

I felt weird. I brought my hands to my face, palming the sockets of my eyes as I tried to wrap my mind around what just happened. Reid and I had had sex and while that fact was obvious I couldn't help, but wonder what that meant for the future. We both said we didn't want to rush into anything. We wanted to be friends and take things slow and while I knew for a fact there were cases where friends had sex and they were fine, I figured that probably wouldn't be the case for us. There was too much history established; to many missed opportunities and what if's.

He closed the door to the bathroom and walked back over to the bed. Instead of getting inside he sat on the chair, letting out a small groan as his body made contact with the seat. When I looked over at him he smiled, reaching out his hand to grab mine and lace our fingers together. "Hey."

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore," I responded.

He snorted.

"But good."

"You should probably get some sleep."

I closed my eyes, giving him a small head nod. As much as I wanted to stay awake and spend more time with him I could feel my body drifting. After being tortured for days, followed by a having a couple of rounds of sex it was no surprise how dead my body felt. My muscles ached, along with the cuts and bruises as I rolled onto my side, still tightly clutching his hand in mine.

He stood up from the chair, leaning over the edge of the bed to place a quick kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight."

"Night," I mumbled.

When I fell asleep I dreamt of hands. The dream itself was foggy, the details fading in and out as my body moved throughout my vision. Everything was in third person, like my soul was floating aimlessly around my physical body. I was sitting in the dark, strapped to the same chair in the warehouse. Tears streamed down my face as a body of hands groped my torso, their fingers gripping at the skin. They pinched and pulled while I screamed, desperately trying to make it stop.