spencer reid one shots

(f) Love

His cherry pink lips matched your flushed cheeks. A large, warm palm wrapped around your waist in a weak attempt to pull you closer to him and your body immediately complied. Your legs snaked around his and your hair lay across his chest.

Heavy eyelids nearly coaxed the two of you to sleep tangled in the white duvet and you did drift off, but it felt like only a moment before you were being gently shook awake.

"My Love," the rasp in his voice was evident and made a hum escape your lips.

"Want to shower with me?"

Gentle hands pulled yours to the shared shower only a few feet away. It felt like you were climbing through clouds on knees that wouldn't stop shaking. Post climax bliss still blanketed your eyes while he helped you step into the glass box.

The water was warm and soothed the ache resting between your thighs. Your eyes stared straight ahead at Spencer's chest, completely unseeing your head was somewhere else. He gently set his index finger below your chin and lifted your eyes to his.

"How are you feeling, my Love?"

"Clouds..." your voice was small and trailed off as you stepped closer to him and pulled your arms around him.

He hugged you back with gentle shapes being traced on your back.

His fingertips on his right hand felt callus from his instance to write with only pens or pencils but he always felt comforting.

"I'm going to get washed up, okay? Then I can help you, bub." You let your hands down but didn't move an inch away from him which made him laugh softly to himself. "I'm right here," he reassures.

Your mind wanders while he rubs coconut shampoo in his hair and you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling cold and exposed. Sniffles escape your nose and you don't even notice the tears until he does.

After quickly rinsing his body of soap he snakes a hand around you and places it firmly on the small of your back.

He is here.

A gentle, slightly flat hum escapes his lips. He leads your shaky legs underneath the warm water and begins rubbing shampoo in your hair, letting the water keep you warm.

It feels like violins and cellos and you don't even notice the low whines that escape your lips as he rinses your hair and begins to rub shea butter all over your body. Once satisfied, he takes a washcloth and gently coaxes your legs open a bit. You whimper as he runs the cloth across your slit.

"I know you're sore, baby," he reassures. "You did so good for me today."

Your lower lip sits clenched between your teeth as you look down at him. "You did wonderful," he repeats while standing and taking your hands in his. You close your eyes and connect your body with his in a hug.

"I Love you," you whisper.

The oxygen left his lungs for a moment before he set a hand on your wet hair.

Bodies morphed into one as you began to sway in his arms.

Of course he already knew that he Loved you. That you Loved him, but hearing the soft words come off your lips made a warmth grow in his stomach. Ever since he had met you, you had told Spencer that Love was not real. Love hurt too much. You didn't want to Love after the tenderness of your heart had been violated.

"I Love you too, my dear," he said and you hummed, snuggling closer to his chest.

Managing to pry you away from him, Spencer got the water turned off and your body wrapped in a warm, white towel and dried your body slowly. Gently pressing kisses to the dry places. The hair on his face tickled your thighs and naval. "You're so beautiful," Spencer praised, "my beautiful, wonderful Love."

Your hand went to his cheek and gently rubbed the skin under his honeysuckle eyes. His long eyelashes fluttered up and down as he stood to connect your lips to his.

He tasted like the color red. Dark red, like autumn trees and 19th century book covers. He tasted how Love felt and you never wanted to stop kissing him. Constantly connected by the cherry lips and honeysuckle eyes.

When he had to eventually pull away he opened his eyes before you did and quickly tried to memorize every feature of your face. Despite his memory being eidetic, he never felt like he could accurately remember just how fucking pretty you were. People had always told him that one day he would be able to understand what it felt like to have such unconditional Love, and he never believed them. Love could never feel as warm and climactic as they described, but he had since accepted that he was wrong. He could never know enough words to describe how much Love he held in his body for you.

The moonlight filtered into the room through the drapes as you got back into bed. You lay on Spencer's arm and traced hearts onto his chest with your fingernails.

"I want to Love you in every single lifetime," you whispered and he gulped.

"I'll make sure you do," he took your hand, "I'll never let you go without Love." 

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