Transfer Request

Chapter 11

Like most people, weekends are my favorite days of the week. Not only because I don't have to go into work, but because it is the only time I truly have to myself.

I normally spend the morning making myself a big breakfast, a refreshing change from my usual protein bar and coffee. After breakfast, I like to draw myself a bath and let all of the stress melt away.

Today, however, was not going as planned.

I woke with an ache between my legs and it only takes me a second to realize why. I had another X-rated dream about my asshole of a boss.

I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and force myself up, purposefully ignoring how the friction between my thighs is giving me some relief. I pick up my phone and scroll aimlessly, searching for something to do.

I consider calling Spencer to distract me from my thoughts, but after last night, I doubt he'll be awake before noon.

I walk to the bathroom to do my morning routine, which significantly calms me down. Now that my head is not clouded by unfortunate lust, I can focus on making my breakfast. I take out a carton of eggs and place them on the counter before pulling a bowl from the cabinet. I figure eggs are fancy enough for me, but they don't require any actual skills.

I try to focus on the task at hand, but thoughts of him still linger in the back of my mind.

I'm not attracted to him. I've just been thinking about him a lot. He makes me so mad, he is the last person I would ever want near me. I'd let Gideon fuck me before Hotch. He's the reason I'm quitting my job, for fucks sake.

As I'm lost in my thoughts, I don't realize when I knock the carton of eggs onto the floor. I curse my stupidity as I clean up the mess. Luckily, one a few eggs broke, but it was still a pain to clean up.

I think back to something Hotch said in my dream.

"That's why it's my job to take care of you."

I shiver, in arousal or disgust, I can't tell, but either way it makes my skin tingle. As hard as I tried to fight my urges, I couldn't stop my hand from slipping past the waistband of my shorts.