Lust and Longing {aaron hotchner x reader} ✓

chapter two

*** TW: brief mention of sexual assault while discussing the case ***

"You're such a good girl"

The abrasive noise of your alarm clock pierces through the euphoric dream you were enjoying. Visions of Hotch's large hands roaming your body dance through your dreams. You vividly remember the feeling of his cock buried inside you. The feeling of his fingers tangled in your hair. His deep, gravelly voice as he bossed you around.

You didn't get home until late last night. Hotch invited you to spend the night, but you decided against it. You know that whatever happened last night was just sex. There was no confession of feelings. No emotional component to any of it. That means no obligations. No need to stay over, no need to complicate things. No strings attached. Just sex.

As soon as you get out of bed your legs go weak, soreness growing between your thighs with every step. You enter the bathroom surveying the damage Hotch did to you. Your neck and chest are littered with bruises. Thankfully, they're ones that are easily coverable with makeup. Your neck is insanely sore from all the hair-pulling and the bruising along your hips and waist is dark. Small crescent shapes mark your hip bones where his nails dug into the skin, drawing blood. Your hands travel over the bruising on your hips and your face flushes at the memories. A large smile grows on your face.

One extra long shower and half a bagel later, you're running late for work (like always) and quickly throw your ready bag together. Despite your tardiness, you still stop for a cup of coffee.

You've been distracted all morning. You can't stop your mind from traveling. The way Hotch bossed you around last night. The way he yanked your head back. The way he fucked you with such dominance. The way you came harder than ever... twice. Yeah, you definitely have never had sex like that before.

"Just the one coffee?" The barista pulls your mind back to the present.

You pause. Normally, you and Hotch buy coffee for each other all the time. You both complain about the shit quality of police station coffee until one of you finally gives in and runs to the nearest cafe. Should you get him a coffee? No. Coffee complicates things. But things were already complicated. You fucked your boss. Now you can't even buy him a simple cup of coffee without worrying about the implications.

As you pull into the parking garage and gather up your belongings you realize something. You called him sir. Last night. You called him sir. That's what you call him on the job. Jesus fucking christ. How are you supposed to look at him the same? How are you going to hold yourself together in front of the team? How could you possibly fool a whole team of profilers?

You reluctantly drag yourself inside the office, settle in at your desk, and get started on some paperwork, hoping to direct your energy elsewhere. You find yourself glancing up at Hotch's office every few minutes, expecting him to come out looking for you.

Nearly two hours go by and Hotch has yet to leave his office. The only glimpses you get of him are through the blinds. His eyes are trained on the work on his desk. His focus is unwavering. You honestly wonder if he'll ever look up, look for you. It's silly. Why would he look to make sure you're at work? Why wouldn't you be at work? But why does he seem so unfazed? You look up at his closed office door for just about the 10th time in the past 10 minutes which finally elicits a small chuckle out of Derek.

"What's going on with you and Hotch?" Reid asks without even looking up from his computer.

"What? Nothing. Me and Hotch? Why do you ask?" You curse yourself for the frantic tone of voice. As a profiler, you should know better and be able to control your microexpressions better.