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The club was called 'Whispers' and the name didn't really fit. The music was so loud that for one to be heard they would have to either speak directly into someone's ear or shout and still they would hold no fear of being overheard. Even the lights seemed loud as the bright streams flashed against the dark backdrop of the club in an ever changing spectrum. The atmosphere was perfectly designed to encourage the writhing mass of bodies in the center of the open floor to move as they pleased. Spencer stood just past the edge of the convulsing swarm of people, swaying gently to whatever beat he could detect, with his eyes glued to one man in particular.

Derek was always popular. And why wouldn't he be? He was beautiful. Physical perfection in every sense. Spencer watched as men and women alike flocked around the dark Adonis to touch his strong body and feel it move against theirs. A few of the bolder dancers even placed kisses along his neck and shoulders. But Spencer wasn't jealous. He wrapped his arm around himself in a gesture that was meant to look lonely and insecure but as his fingers pressed gently into his ribs and he felt the ache of the bruise Derek had so painstakingly sucked and nipped into his skin last night, he felt anything but. Even the way he touched and caressed his dance partners was tame and reserved compared to how those large hands would clutch and manhandle Spencer's lithe form. The entire night was a ruse. For the sixteenth time since entering the club, the young agent ran through the case details to stave off his headache.

Five people had been repeatedly raped and then killed. Two women and three men. The first had been twenty-eight year old Michelle Orielli. She was short, Caucasian, had dark hair and eyes and was “pear shaped” as Spencer was told was the term. The next was Jesus Ramirez. He was thirty, Hispanic, had light brown hair and hazel eyes, was tall and overweight. Third was Deborah Jackson, also thirty, African American, with red dyed hair and a body type almost identical to Garcia's. The fourth was the youngest, twenty-five year old James Porter, a tall, slender Caucasian man with blonde hair and green eyes. The last victim was Paul Weaver who was twenty-seven, also tall, slender and Caucasian but with dark brown hair and light blue eyes.

The semen found on all of the bodies matched as coming from the same person but didn't match anything in the system. With the victimology being so varied it was hard to pick out the Unsub's type until they talked to the friends and families. All five victims were socially awkward or wallflowers. Apparently they had all been dragged to Whispers, the best and most inclusive club in town, on the nights they died. They didn't wear flashy or revealing clothing, only left the bar area if it was crowded, and while none of them were unattractive, they weren't “Hollywood Pretty” as Rossi had put it.

What really put pressure on them was the increased rate of the kills as the Unsub gained confidence and narrowed down a physical preference. They all died on Saturdays but Michelle and Jesus were killed a month apart, Deborah was three weeks later, James was two weeks and Paul was only one.

It all came together when all of the friends started telling details of a similar story. All of the victims had become interested in someone at the club. Physical descriptions varied but they were all well built, attractive men who danced with several people and never looked the victim's way. At some point each person was approached by a man described as being of average height and build with light hair who dressed plainly. He talked to them for a few minutes before getting turned down and storming off. A while later all of the victims became separated from their groups in one way or another and weren't seen again until their bodies were found in back allies and roadside ditches.

The team put together a profile of a Homo-flexible man with an extreme inferiority complex. He targeted wallflowers and dressed in a simple, non-threatening way in the hopes that these people would be the least likely to reject him. When they did, he would wait for them to be vulnerable, surprise them with a blitz attack and unleash his fury. The stresser was most likely a significant romantic rejection in his own life.

Not long after they delivered the profile did Garcia pull together a file on one Duncan Green, a thirty-two year old man matching the description of the Unsub. He had finalized a messy divorce, wherein his partner had cheated on him with and left him for his personal trainer, just over a month before the first murder. After showing a picture of Duncan to the staff at Whispers it was confirmed that he was a regular but without any hard evidence they couldn't bring him in.

And that is how Spencer found himself standing in an ill-named dance club. Everyone agreed when Hotch had brought up that he best fit the look of the last two victims. He had entered with JJ and Emily and as they went to dance and scope out the club, he stayed by the bar. About fifteen minutes later Derek entered, had one quick drink at the bar to allow himself to be seen by Spencer, and proceeded to the dance floor where he drew an immediate crowd. The young man followed and found a good spot to watch his boyfriend get pawed on by strangers. But he still wasn't jealous. He couldn't be. Jealousy would imply a distrust in Derek and his lover was nothing if not loyal and devoted. No. Spencer was possessive. That gorgeous hunk of man was his and it was killing him not to go out there and show them all. Show them what it was really like to be crushed to that chest, to have those strong legs spread his so that their bodies could grind together, to have his kisses be returned by those plush, delicious lips.

He wasn't sure how much more he could take when he felt someone slide up beside him.

“Well, hello, Legs.”

Spencer turned and was face to face with Duncan Green.


The genius's natural awkwardness kicked in, which was good. It was the role he was born to play. Instinctively, he looked toward Derek to center himself.

“Want to dance?” Green asked, inching closer.

“Um, no thanks...I...Uh”

“You got eyes for someone else?”


No matter how much time passed or how much confidence he gained, talking to someone for the first time was always a struggle for Spencer. Talking to dangerous people wasn't much better. Talking to a dangerous and unstable person for the first time while not being allowed to draw on his vast profiler knowledge was nerve wracking.

“I'm better than him you know.”

“What?” Spencer flinched as Green got even further into his personal space.

“Everybody wants the tall guy with tons of muscles but guys like that are just coasting and that's all they'll ever do. I could giver you the best night of your life and then make you beg for more.”

“I just don't want -”

“You think you can do better?” Duncan was starting to fray and snap, “You think that guy is even going to look at a skinny nothing like you? You stand here and turn me down when no one wants you?”

“Please, leave me alone or I'll call the cops.”

Spencer tried to balance his voice between desperate and stern. He knew that, despite his posturing, Green was more cautious than to attack in public. And he was right. The killer's eyes grew stormy and his upper lip curled up in a snarl but he ultimately just marched off to the other side of the dance floor. The thin man took a moment to collect himself before he made his way back to the bar where Emily and JJ sat pretending to just chit chat. As he walked away he noticed Derek subtly turn his body to keep his lover in his peripheral vision. When he reached his teammates he quickly and quietly told them about the exchange. At one point in the middle they laughed to make it seem like he was telling a funny story. They all agreed that it was time to fully reel this guy in.

They sat and talked for a few more minutes before Spencer got up and made his way to the bathroom. It was tucked back in a hallway near the emergency exit. And while the stationary bulbs on the ceiling made it technically the best lit area, the dark walls and lack of people still made it feel eerie. He stepped into the room, remembering not to lock the door, and entered a stall. He outright refused to actually use a public toilet but still needed to give Green some time to follow him in. He heard the door open and close and the lock click shut and that was his cue. He opened the stall door and was immediately on the defensive as Duncan punched him in the gut and pushed him back until he slammed into the wall. The young agent ignored the pain in his stomach and lifted his arms to deflect more blows to his face. The assault lasted only a moment before the door was blasted in and Derek charged forward and wrestled the attacker away from his love and to the ground. He held the struggling man down as he quickly slapped the cuffs on his wrists and read him his rights. The larger man hauled Green to his feet and handed him over to JJ and Emily to be escorted out of the club. He turned to find Spencer walking toward him and when they came together the kiss they shared, while brief, was hungry and passionate.

It was around two in the morning by the time they made it home and they were barely inside the door before they were all over each other. Spencer clutched helplessly at Derek's shoulders as the way the older man kissed and bit his neck made his knees go rubbery. But the weakness hardly mattered when the dark agent scooped him up and carried him down the hall to their bedroom. He gently tossed his lover onto the center of their king sized bed and they both began to strip as fast as possible. Once they were both bare, Derek crawled up Spencer's body, showering kisses as he went.

“How are you feeling, Baby? Anything hurt?”

“No. The sucker punch stunned me a little but the worst I'll have is a bruise tomorrow.”

Derek nibbled on the genius's ear lobe, causing the slender male to shudder and gasp.

“Now, Pretty Boy, you know I'm the only one who gets to mark you.” To emphasize his point the older agent placed his hand over the love bite on Spencer's abdomen. “How else are people going to know you're mine?”

“It would be easier for people to believe if you weren't getting groped all the time.” Derek opened his mouth but was silenced by one long finger to his lips. “I love you, Derek, and I trust you no matter what but watching those people touch you almost had me breaking cover. Yes, I am yours completely but that means you are also mine.”

He brought both hands to hold the back of Derek's head, freeing him to speak.

“Tell me what you want, Pretty Boy.”

“I want you to fuck me. Ravage me. Every dirty, lewd thing those people wanted from you, you give only to me.”

“Oh, Baby, you don't even have to ask.”

And with that Derek dropped his hips into a filthy grind that dragged their erections against each other. Spencer threw his head back only to have his screams swallowed by his dark lover as their tongues leaped to twirl and dance. Their bodies became sensitive to the friction and their lungs burned for air before they tore themselves apart and Derek reached under the mattress for the lube. His fingers curled around the bottle as the lithe agent kissed over his neck and rubbed his hands up and down his chest, even pinching his nipples. He replaced every touch from the earlier dancers and gave a little more just from him. They kissed again when Derek came back up but broke off more quickly so the elder could prop up his boyfriend's hips and put a pillow under his lower back. Spencer eagerly spread his legs, further exposing his weeping dick and twitching hole. The display had Derek rushing to pop the cap and slather his fingers in the slick substance. He then inserted two thick digits into his ass and easily found his prostate.

“Derek! Yes, more! Fuck me, please!”

This was Derek's favorite part. Being able to reduce his genius boyfriend's extensive vocabulary to desperate expletives and wanton pleas. He continued to twist and thrust and stretch his fingers, knowing exactly how to make his Pretty Boy go from a whimpering, melted puddle to a twitching, moaning live wire. He played and enjoyed the show until Spencer's patience finally ran out and he bucked harshly and demanded,

“Derek Morgan, give me your cock. Now.”

The larger man pulled his love into a kiss which he let Spencer dominate to vent his frustrations as he slid his digits free and lined up his member. He hooked his hands under creamy thighs and lifted them for a better angle as he pushed forward in a single motion. Watching Spencer writhe on his thickness was truly beautiful. And the way his soft passage clenched rhythmically as he tried to force himself to adjust faster had the dark man groaning and slumping down to rest his forehead on a thin shoulder.

The young genius gently stroked his love from the top of his head to the small of his back as they both took a moment to absorb the sensations. No matter how often they did this, the feeling of Derek stretching and filling him to his most intimate depths never got less intense. And the feeling of his huge body crushing down on his was soothing. A perfect contrast that fully encompassed their relationship.

Finally, Spencer could take no more and gave one powerful clench while biting saucily at his lover's sensitive ear. Derek growled low and gave his own bite to Spencer's neck in return. He finally pulled his body up and began to thrust his hips. The pace he set was rough and dirty and Spencer gave as good as he got as he met every wild pounding of hips. They were soon covered in sweat as their passion burned through them and the sounds of their flesh colliding could barely be heard over their moans and cries of each others names. Hands clutched and scratched randomly and mouths attempted to devour one another as the need to lay claim and be claimed grew ever stronger. The heat between them swelled as they raced toward their climax. And when they hit that high together it was with one final Earth shaking moan.

Before he could go limp, Derek rolled them over so the younger agent wouldn't be smothered. They lay embracing in the after glow for a few minutes before the larger of them was able to speak.

“You're something else, Pretty Boy. I'm so lucky to be yours.”

Spencer considered this for a moment. Growing up in Vegas with a mind built for seeing patterns, he'd become disillusioned with the concept of luck at a very young age. But his relationship with Derek didn't make any logical sense when viewed with a critical eye. Their love had come about by a set of circumstances that should really be nonsensical and which Spencer's brain was too fried at the moment to analyze. Instead he simply responded with,

“I'm the lucky one.”

Yes, I killed Soos.
Please leave any comments on improvements I can make in the future.
I hope everyone had a good time.