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Darling and Diatribes

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I stared at my reflection silently. I knew it had to be a two-way mirror, knew someone had to be watching me from the other side, but I didn’t quite mind. I didn’t think I was in trouble. They only said I needed to answer some questions about an old friend of mine. Truth be told, I wasn’t paying that much attention. All I had focused on when I was approached by a pair of FBI agents was the dark-haired, unsmiling one.

The problem was that I always seemed to go for the ones that looked like they wanted nothing to do with me. Jesus, he had to have been almost fifteen years older than me, and he never so much as blinked when I stared at him. And it only made me lean into it more, wonder about him more, want to know more.

It was a curse to be this stupid, really.

The door swung open unexpectedly and—speak of the devil—in walked the very man I had just been fantasizing about. He led the charge, followed closely by a younger looking man with almost blonde hair and a sweater vest.

The younger one spoke first. “Y/N? Hi. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, but you can just call me Spencer. This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, but—”

“You may call me Agent or Agent Hotchner, nothing else,” he interrupted.

Ah, a name to the face. Agent, I thought. Agent Aaron Hotchner. I liked that name. Smiling coyly, I crossed my legs and leaned forward. Though I directed my words to the doctor, I kept my eyes on the man in charge. “He seems a bit serious. Is he always like that, or am I just more annoying than I thought I was?”

Dr. Reid chuckled a bit. He had some files in his hands that he shuffled around, putting in order. “Don’t worry, that’s just how he is.”

Good to know. If he thought that staring me down the way he was was going to make me be scared of him, it wasn’t working. I only grew more invested.

When Agent Hotchner spoke, it was curt and borderline cutting. He grabbed one of the files and tossed it in front of me. I stopped it from sliding off the table with one hand. “What can you tell us about Debbie Singer?”

I hummed, searching the tiles. I felt like if I stared at him for too long, it would start becoming obvious. “Uh, she kind of sounds like a porn star. Why?”

Spencer cleared his throat, shooting a glance at a glaring Hotchner. “Well, uh, we have reason to believe you might have known her, a couple years ago. You would have been a freshman at your college when she was a senior, maybe you shared a few classes, or ran into each other on campus … ?”

“Oh shit,” I hissed. “That’s my bad, actually. I didn’t think you guys were actually, like, serious. Um, let me think.” I leaned forward a bit, staring at the picture of the woman I supposedly had locked away in my memories.

Agent Hotchner snapped, “Do we look like we’re joking around with you right now?” He didn’t yet cross to my side of the table, but he leaned down over it and sort of, like, got in my face a bit, since I was already leaning over my side as well.

I didn’t back up. He wasn’t so close that his breath would brush my face, but I could see the flecks of color in his light brown eyes. His eyebrows were tense, face frozen in an unflinching mask. I kind of liked it. I wanted to know exactly what it took to make that mask fall. Before I could stop it, I half-laughed, just a little exhale of air louder than a gasp. “No, sir, Agent Hotchner, sir,” I said. Anyone could hear the mirth in my voice. I had to bite my lips to keep from grinning at him.

Falling back into my chair, I man-spread underneath the table, shrugging helplessly. “Look, guys, I don’t know why you thought I would be the one to recognize her. If she was a senior when I was a freshie, then it’s been three years since I last saw her. Why don’t you try and find her old roommates, or something?”

Dr. Reid took a breath while opening his mouth, but was once again interrupted by the Supervisory Special Agent, who rapped his knuckles against the table sharply to get my attention.

Well, you don’t have to try that hard, I thought.

“You’re talking to the FBI, you think we haven’t bothered to check her history? What, do you think we’re stupid, is that it?”

“Not really, but—”

“The reason we haven’t been able to speak to any of her roommates is because they’re all either missing or dead!” He spat at me. Aaron pushed himself away from the table like he was disgusted to even be that close to me. I leaned forward as soon as he pushed back. It was like there was a pole tied between us, forcing me to push when he pulled and pull when he pushed.

Oh, shit. Didn’t expect that.

“Really? All of them?” My voice was more subdued. I didn’t want to sound disrespectful, but it wasn’t like I knew the chick, and also the way the man glared at me made me want to keep pushing him.

“Y/N, whoever is killing these women is connected to Debbie in some way. We believe they’re trying to erase her history, everyone she knew, everyone she loved. If our unsub thinks you and Debbie had a connection, you could be next.” Spencer’s voice was soft, but the pictures he slid across the table were a grave contrast. Pictures of dead bodies, slain grotesquely.

I looked away, wrinkling my nose. My lunch hopped in my stomach dangerously. “Huh,” I said. “could be next?”

“You, the woman who sold her coffee, the last damn person she smiled at. Or can’t you get it through your thick, selfish skull that people could be hurt because of you?” Aaron made it to my side of the table, standing behind me. He was so close, I could smell his cologne. He reached around me to pull the pictures under my nose, forcing me to look at them.

I wonder what else he’d make me do if I made him mad. My back tensed up. His breath brushed the hair at the back of my neck, making goosebumps sprout up. It was harder now, trying not to smile. I made eye contact with the doctor—mostly on accident—and saw it in his eyes. He noticed something, alright, judging by the way one of his eyebrows quirked up before falling back into innocent protege. He saw the way I acted when his boss got close to me.

There wasn’t much I could do in response, so I just raised one of my own back at him, and started addressing the older man. “I really don’t think I’ve got it quite yet. Do you think you could drill it into me a bit more?”

If there was anyone behind that glass, then they were getting the show of a lifetime. I should be getting paid for this shit!

I couldn’t tell if it was luck or not, but apparently Hotchner didn’t pick up on the very obvious cue I was giving him. He moved from behind me to right next to me, getting all up in my space, his arm reaching across my body to grab more pictures, line them up, hit each one with a closed fist. Each punctuated bang, bang, bang on the table made me jump, but probably not for the reasons he thought they were. It was hard to hold in my humor now, the almost unreasonable giddiness one gets from being in close contact with someone they were undeniably attracted to, doing things that were undeniably attractive.

“You know something, whether you’d like to admit it or not, so look at the file again and tell me what it is you’re hiding!” He grabbed the file with her picture in it and threw it at my chest.

Hiding? I’m not hiding anything, I’m trying to tell you I don’t know the chick!” I exclaimed, carelessly tossing the file on the table. I stood up to match his stance, puffing out my chest, squaring my shoulders. This was fun. I wondered if I could find his phone number through the official FBI website. 

“Hotch, maybe you should—”

“No, no, I want to know why this girl thinks she’s better than everyone else!”

Better than everyone? Better than—wow, okay, Mr. Big-Man, like you don’t think you’re so tough, yelling at me like this!”

“Is it an age thing? Because last I checked, most people give a damn about the lives of other people!” He stepped closer—

Oh, boy. Here it was. He was finally close enough for his breath to brush against my face. 

“Oh, I give a damn, I’m just trying to tell you that you’re wasting your own goddamn time!” He was so close now, I could feel the shivers running up and down my spine. My lips twitched into a smile of their own free will, even when I tried to bite them down, I could only grin.

He leaned back, eyebrows shooting up. “Is this funny? You think this is all just one big joke?”

“Hotch, I really don’t think—”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but nobody here wants to sit and listen to you acting like a selfish brat!”

Fuck, okay, that got me—before I could stop it, one loud laugh escaped, and I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth, turning away. But just like most things, once it starts, it can’t be stopped, so I just bent over laughing, trying not to look at him.

Spencer, I could tell through the tears in my eyes, looked very confused on the turn of events. “I  … don’t understand. What’s so funny?”

Even Agent Hotchner was thrown off. He went back to the other side of the table, still looking furious, but albeit furious with less direction.

“I’m sorry!” I wheezed. I sat back down, slapping the table to let out some of the giddiness I felt. Who called someone clearly enjoying being yelled at a brat and didn’t expect anything to happen? “I’m sorry, I really am. Look, look, okay, I understand the whole, uh, dynamic you guys are going for.” More calm now, I waved between them. “You know, good cop, bad cop, younger guy to make me feel more comfortable, older man to—fucking shit, hang on.” For whatever reason, that made me lose it again, just saying the words older man.

The two agents looked between each other, lost as to what I was getting at. Well, Hotchner looked lost, Spencer looked horrifyingly knowing.

The rest, I could only say between laughs and big gulps of air. “It’s just that—I’m really sorry to break it to ya—but I’ve—oh, my God, I can’t believe I’m saying this—I’ve got some issues of the father variety—” Here, I stopped for a full ten seconds to laugh, fully crying at this point. I brought my knees up and waved my hand, trying to breathe through it. I truly couldn’t fucking believe I was actually about to say this. My friends were going to lose their minds when I told them this story. 

“Okay, okay, hang on. Listen, alright—this whole bad cop thing doesn’t work, dude, because yelling at me only makes me really fucking attracted to you!” 

Just put all your business out there, humiliate yourself in front of everyone, no biggie. It didn’t really matter, I was wheezing at this point, not even making any noise. I couldn’t see it when Agent Hotchner walked out, but I could hear the sounds of what must have been the rest of their team clapping and jeering at him in the room behind the glass when the door opened.

It took me a while to calm down. Mainly because every time I looked at Spencer, sitting there with wide eyes like he hadn’t thought I would actually admit it, the whole situation got funnier. When I gained the ability to talk again, I asked, “Is that a first for him, or does he regularly have to deal with girls with daddy issues?”

“Uh, to be honest, I think you’re the first, so congratulations.” He kept looking between me and the mirror, shuffling the files. “Uh, if we could just … get back on topic.”

I sighed happily, wiping under my eyes. “I’m sorry. Alright, look, I wasn’t trying to be a—be a brat—” I giggled out the last part. I could barely keep it together at this point. “But I genuinely don’t know her. Have you tried talking to someone in her sorority?”

That made him pause. “Debbie wasn’t in a sorority,” said Spencer carefully.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Debbie Singers? The girl in that picture? Yeah, she was, look—” I grabbed the file and pulled her picture out, putting at the necklace she wore. “This symbol is for the Nu Lambda’s. They’re the biggest sorority on campus, every new initiate gets a necklace.”

He grabbed the picture out of my hands, looking at it intently. “The Nu Lambda’s? You’re sure that’s the name?”

“Yeah. I know because they had this big ass song and dance routine they used to let a girl know they got in—they’d show up somewhere and bust it all out. It was fucking annoying, too, I was always late to class because of them.”

“Garcia, did you get that?” He held a hand to the little earpiece he wore, standing up and collecting all the files. “Yeah, do you think—right now? Alright, I’ll tell—thank you.” He strode to the door and only seemed to remember I was there when he opened it. I could see two women standing on the other side, apparently waiting for him. The darker haired of the two glanced over his shoulder to look at me. “You can just go, I think. Someone will be in touch.” 

The door swung shut with a bang. 

I didn’t see Agent Aaron Hotchner until hours later, surprisingly at the same police station. They had called me to let me know there were some papers I needed to sign so I wasn’t allowed to sue for anything that happened in the interrogation room, or something. It was probably standard procedure, but I made sure to change into something a bit cuter—a little white sundress that rode the line between innocent and scandalous.

It isn’t wishful thinking if the thing you were wishing for actually happens. 

While I was at the front desk, leaning on the counter and filling out the papers, I heard the doors of the police station open and a group of people come in. 

“You have to give her credit, she’s got balls,” one guy was saying. They were getting ever closer, and somehow I knew—I don’t know how, but I did—that Agent Hotchner was with them—that there was a charge between us that his very presence ignited.

A woman started to talk—”The funniest thing was your face—”—but suddenly went silent.

Ah. So they had seen me, then. I grinned down into the paper and leaned over the desk, allowing my feet to dangle off the ground and my dress to ride up. “Hey, Laurie,” I whispered quietly. “Think you could pass me one of those suckers?”

The aged receptionist looked confused for a bit before grabbing the basket of candies and putting it on the counter. I grabbed one, unwrapping it, and popped it in my mouth. This wasn’t my first rodeo, I knew how to work a man. “One more thing? Could you tell me when the dark-haired guy who doesn’t blink is staring at me?”

She blinked at me, then her large eyes slowly slid to the group but a few feet away. “He’s staring now.”

“Excellent,” I grinned. I signed the last paper and pushed it across the counter. “You’re the best, Laurie!” I raised my voice to a normal volume while walking backwards. “A true woman!” 

Spinning around, I just so happened to end up right in front of the little Scooby gang. “Oh! Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t hear y’all come in.” I flashed them all a cute little what a coincidence smile. 

“No problem, miss,” said one of the older ones. A bit out of my range, but not too much. He moved to the side, already throwing Agent Hotchner a shit-eating grin. Guess they had all seen my little confession. Oops. 

The key was to completely ignore him, you see, except for a little, “Pardon me,” while brushing by him. That way, no one but him noticed me slipping a little piece of paper into his pocket. “I like those earrings, very cute,” I mentioned to a blonde woman I had to pass by. 

“Oh—thanks!” She sounded almost surprised that I spoke to her. 

Before I walked out completely, I could hear the group starting up again, already laughing. Good. The more he thought about me, the better.

The next time I saw Agent Aaron Hotchner, it was almost midnight, and I had been waiting for hours. The knock was soft, like he wasn’t even sure he should be there. 

Grinning, I set my phone on the table. I had been texting my friend for the last hour, complaining about the possibility of being rejected. I wouldn’t exactly blame him if he didn’t show, to be honest. I was kind of a bitch. But something told me that was the kind of thing he liked in a woman.

For a moment, I waited in front of the door, letting him stew. When I finally opened it, I pretended as if I wasn’t expecting him. “Agent Hotchner? What are you doing here?”

He wasn’t wearing the suit and tie as he had during the interrogation. Apparently, showing up at the apartment of a girl almost two decades younger than you in the middle of a night didn’t call for such formal wear. Now it was just a t-shirt and regular-schmegular pants, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He stared at me for the moment, maybe not expecting me to be wearing the sundress still, before snapping out of it and saying, “As if you don’t know. I got your little message.”

I beamed. “Clearly. Smooth, huh?” Stepping away from the door, I gestured for him to follow me as I began walking into the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of coffe?”

However, I never made it all the way into the kitchen, because halfway through my living room, he grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. He didn’t let go of his slightly bruising grip, even when I was so close our chests brushed. “Why did you say that in the interrogation room?”

“I said a lot of things in the interrogation room, you’ll have to be more specific.” Could he feel the way my heart beat against my chest? Was it a calling card for him to move closer, head dipping to look me fully in the eyes? 

“You know what you said. You found it attractive when I yelled at you, why?”

“Probably for the same reasons you liked yelling at me. Issues. Usually of the childhood variety. Probably the same issues that made you so you also like holding me like this. Being tough. You know.”

“Do you always do this?” At my confused look, he clarified, “Give out your address to stranger older men you don’t know.”

“You aren’t strange. Agent Hotchner,” I said quietly. I moved closer, sliding my hand up his chest. “I’ve met a thousand guys like you. That’s how I knew you’d show up. You always do.” 

His eyebrows drew together. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake in inviting me over.”

I rolled my eyes. This was another unseen issues with only liking older guys—the guilt. “I’m twenty-three, I have room to make mistakes. And luckily for you, this is a mistake I’m well adjusted to making, so… . Look, I don’t want to be crude, but—”

I couldn’t get the chance to finish, because then Agent Hotchner bent down and kissed me. He grabbed the sides of my face roughly, pulling me into him while stepping forward so that I was forced backwards.  My hands flew up to grab his hair, eagerly responding. He forced me back until I was against the wall, lips working over mine until I had submitted the battle to him completely. “That’s not what I meant,” he whispered, drawing back. “Your mistake was made when you thought I would treat you as nicely as all those other men you’ve had over. You see, I have this policy: I give people what I think they deserve; and I don’t think you deserve a whole lot from me. What do you think?”

“I think no matter what kind of policies you have, you’re still in my apartment, and I don’t think that’s a knife you have in your pocket.” I whispered against his lips, trying to pull him closer, kiss him again. I grabbed his belt loops and pressed my hips against his. 

But he didn’t respond the way I thought he would. He stepped back, holding me against the wall by my forearms. “You should learn how to talk to people. I think I’ll teach you.” Then he was dragging me down the hall, looking into rooms, undoubtedly trying to find mine. Before I had the chance to stutter out which one it was, he had already found it, and was pulling me in and throwing me onto the bed. 

“Jesus,” I breathed, propping myself up on my elbows to watch him. I didn’t expect him to get this into it. I expected for him to show up, screw me, then leave. 

He stripped off his shirt before kneeling at the end of the bed. I had to say: great view, the guy was cut. Guess I had to thank the job for that. I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on him—I saw the way his biceps flexed when he moved. He grabbed my ankles and yanked me down the bed, ignoring the way I squealed when my dress rode up around my thighs. Agent Hotchner—I should probably start calling him Aaron—put my legs on either side of his hips. He ran his hands up my legs, pushing the dress higher and higher until he was tossing it onto the floor completely. I shivered underneath him. There was this quiet intensity in his eyes that made me think I may have gotten myself into more trouble than I bargained for. Which was odd, considering I loved trouble.  “What do you want?”

“You. Just you,” I whispered, reaching for his hands. He pulled away and grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head. Taking the opportunity, I hooked my legs around his waist to grind my hips against his, grinning devilishly. 

“Keep your hands up here, don’t move,” he ordered. “You need to learn respect.”

“I need to get fucked.”

His fingers wrapped around my lower jaw tightly. Threateningly. He leaned closer until he was barely inches from my face. “You don’t know what you need, darling girl.” He very softly kissed my forehead, then whispered, “You’re too stupid to figure it out.” 

My breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t that I couldn’t breathe, it was more like I didn’t want to in fear of disturbing him. My lips parted, hands clutched together above my head, toes curling. I tried to kiss him, but he pulled away, snaking his hands behind my back to undo my bra, pulling the straps down my arms. “Please, Aaron,” I pleaded. 

“I like the way you beg. Do it some more.” He lowered his head to my chest, kissing at my collarbones, nipping at the sensitive skin on my breasts. 

“Please, Aaron, please touch me. I need you so bad, please, fuck,” I begged. My back arched, trying to get as close as possible to him. I wanted so badly to grab him and pull at his hair, run my hands down his back, feel his muscles tense under my fingers; but he had told me not to move my hands, so all I could do was lock my legs tighter and hope he would soon give me the release I needed. 

His tongue darted around my nipple, rolling it in his mouth until it was a tight ball of nerves. One of his hands squeezed my other tit, stimulating it until I was a weak mess under him. My thighs squeezed together. I knew I was wet, could feel it dampening the thin lace panties I wore for him. Shamelessly, I rubbed myself against his pants, the coarse fabric creating enough friction for me to moan in his ear. 

Out of nowhere, he dropped his hips, pinning mine to the bed with his weight. “I didn’t say you could do that.” He lifted his head, gaze stern and commanding. “Did I say you could do that?”

“No,” I breathed.

“No. So what should you do now, darling?”


“Good girl. Let’s hear it. And you better make it good, or I’m getting up and walking out of this shitty little apartment.”

God, he was hot. 

I started talking without thinking. “I’m sorry … please, Aaron, I won’t do it again, I’m so sorry. Please touch me again.”

He hummed, tracing the curve of my waist thoughtfully. “If you make a mistake like that again, I’m leaving. I don’t have time for little girls who don’t know their place. Understood?”


“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir?” I was just guessing at this point. My mind was just one big blur of HOT GUY ON TOP OF ME RIDE DICK NOW and it was getting really hard to form proper sentences. 

“That’s right.” The broad hand on my hip stopped, his index finger hooking into the side of my underwear. “These are cute. Wear them just for me?”

I pouted slightly. “I thought you would be wearing the suit.”

He gave me a confused look, like he didn’t understand. I raised my eyebrows and nodded down at them. “They matched your tie! Took me fucking forever to find the right color. Don’t you like them?”

Aaron laughed at that, breaking from the mask just for a moment. “Yeah, I do. I’ll like them better when they’re on the floor.” With no further teasing, he grabbed the fabric and ripped it off my legs, tossing it away from us. He grabbed my thighs and pulled them apart, baring me. I wondered if the slickness was as visible as it felt. 

I whimpered when his thumbs slipped around to rub circles on my inner thighs. He sat back on his heels, hands slowly working their way up to my ass, where he bent almost in half and—

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I gasped.

His tongue swept over my pussy swiftly, tasting my arousal. The approving groan he gave reverberated through my bones, shook me to my core. My hands clutched at the blankets over my head, scrambling for something to ground me while he ate me out. “Aaron, holy—fucking shit!” 

Aaron moved up from my folds to my clit, tongue rolling the small bud around until my thighs were straining to close around his head and my eyes were rolling back. One of his fingers circled my entrance, slipping and in out slowly. My thighs twitched. There was a thin coat of sweat all over, my fingers were knotted into the blanket, ankles locking around his shoulders. “Please—fuck—please let me touch you,” I requested breathlessly. “Please, please Aaron, I want to touch you so bad, ohfuckingshit I need to touch you!”

Two of his fingers slipped inside me, testing out how I reacted—loudly—while he looked up to see me already staring at him, eyes lidded and glazed. “Go ahead,” he granted.

My hands fell to his hair, lacing my fingers through the dark strands. Once my hands were on his head, it was so much better. I could feel the way his jaw moved as he greedily licked me out. Sloppy noises filled the room, the product of my juices and his tongue flicking in and out of me between teasing my clit. 

Aaron added a third finger, curling them against a spot in me that made me fully scream out, hands pulling at his hair. My hips moved against his face, grinding against his mouth. “Yes, yes, right there, Aaron, fucking please yes!”

And then, right when I felt like I would burst into a million happy little bubbles of bliss—

He pulled away.

“No!” I sobbed, already propping myself up on my elbows to stare incredulously at him. “Why?”

The way he looked at me while coming back up the bed made me feel like I was a rabbit stuck in a trap. My chest froze, heart beating wildly when he went to kiss me. I tasted myself in his mouth, sucked my own arousal off his tongue when he slipped it into mine. When he pulled back, his skin was flushed, hair messy. Aaron didn’t go far—his breath fanned my baby hairs out of my face when he spoke. “Because I want to feel you come on my cock while you’re screaming out my fucking name.” He got off the bed and started undressing his bottom half, kicking off his shoes while undoing his belt. “And you’re going to be screaming my name, because I want everyone in this goddamn building to know exactly who’s stuffing you with his cock.”

Chills skittered down my spine. I was still so fucking angry at him, but at the same time I just wanted him to hold me down and fuck the defiance out of me. He probably would, too, if I made him mad enough. And I probably could make him mad enough, if I just… .

“You sure you’ve got what it takes?” I blurted. He froze, face going chillingly blank when I mindlessly blathered on. “I mean, you’re kinda up there in age, no offence. My neighbors, they’re more used to my guests being younger. Not my age, of course, but more like … more like Dr. Reid’s age. Don’t know if you’ll be able to keep up.”

I knew as soon as I said it that it was a mistake. He was going to give me a rough night no matter what, why did I have to go and make it worse? It was the feeling you got when you were caught in a lie, or when you break something that didn’t belong to you. I was pretty sure he was going to break me. His entire demeanor changed, shoulders tensing up and back straightening out. “Oh?” He asked casually. Too casually. I could see muscles in his jaw twitch, why was he acting so blasé? 

My heart thudded in my ears when he started moving again. The only thing he wore was his underwear, and the moonlight illuminated every inch of tan skin, strong thighs, toned stomach, veiny forearms … every inch of him was perfection I wanted to trace with the tips of my fingers. But right now, every inch of him was tense anger, barely controlled. 

“Is that what you want?” He crossed over to my side of the bed and grabbed my arm, roughly yanking me off the covers. “Someone else in here? A younger man?”

“N-no, Aaron, I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” he ordered. “I didn’t say you could talk.” Aaron began dragging me across the room, stopping only to pick up my underwear. He stopped in front of my bedroom window, which looked out into the still busy streets. I wasn’t very high up. Anyone looking up would see what was happening.

Was it bad that that only made me more wet? 

Like I was a kitten, he grabbed the scruff of my neck and slammed my front against the window. The glass was cold, his grip was hard, and my thighs were soaked. 

“Look out there,” he growled. “Look at all those girls like you, walking down the street. You wanna know the difference between you and them?”

I didn’t bother trying to answer. 

He leaned in real close, lips brushing my ear when he spoke. He was still holding the back of my neck, and it was almost (but not quite) cutting off my airway. “The difference is that all those little girls can go around with their little boyfriends and be satisfied. But you? You’re nothing but a dirty whore. You’ll never be satisfied with some happy go-lucky relationship. No, your pussy needs something bigger than what those college boys can give you. Isn’t that right?”

Unsure of how to answer, I just kept looking down at the street below us, transfixed with the pedestrians that didn’t let the nighttime stop them from going about their lives. 

Aaron pulled me off the window just to shove me against it again. “I asked you a question, whore.” His voice was sharp and biting.

“Yes! Yes, you’re right, you—”

Before I could finish, he used my open mouth to shove my underwear in, effectively gagging me. “Do you taste yourself? Do you think any other man can make you as wet as I can?”

Holy shit, I wanted his dick so bad. I didn’t care what I had to do, I just wanted him inside of me, fucking me against the window. I was putty in his hands, barely able to hold myself up against the window. My tits were pressed flat against the glass, there for anyone to see. The idea kind of excited me. 

He kicked my feet apart. His hands on my waist were the only thing keeping me from falling over. “You know, I was gonna be nice about this. I was going to make you like it. But you know what your little smartass comment made me realize? Being nice isn’t how to get you off.” He let go for a second, and seconds later I heard the sounds of his briefs hitting the floor. “You like being hurt. You like being used. Because there is some small part of you that knows you’re a whore, and knows you deserve to be treated like a whore.” His hands returned to my hips with their bruising grip, lining himself up against my entrance. “Which means when I do this—” and here, he thrust himself fully inside me, ignoring my embarrassingly loud moan, “—you like it. Now, be quiet and let me use this tight little pussy, will you? I’ve had a long day.”

My fingernails scraped against the glass, my breath fogging it up. His hips slammed into mine as he fucked me, his cock dragging along my walls in the most delicious way. Aaron put his lips to my shoulders, biting and kissing and sucking his marks onto them. His blunt nails dragged down my skin to grab my ass, for no particular reason other than wanting to bruise that, too. 

I gasped out his name through my gag. I wanted to scream, wanted to beg for more, but apparently that wasn’t in the cards for him. He pulled away, leaving me there. “Don’t fucking move,” he said sternly.

I didn’t dare.

He disappeared for a moment. When he came back, he was holding something small and leather and—it was his belt, folded up small enough that he could wedge it into my mouth like a horse bit. “Bite down on this. I don’t want to fucking hear you.”

My jaw strained against the makeshift gag, drool dripping out of the edges of my mouth. When he thrust back in, my eyes crossed for a moment out of bliss. 

He slammed into me harshly, an unrelenting pace that had me gasping for breath. Biting down did actually help muffle my wailing, but nothing could hide the sound of our skin slapping together, my hands banging against the glass, his little grunts against my skin. When he reached around me to start rubbing my clit, I fully screamed out, legs attempting to close around his cock. 

“Aw, don’t pretend like you don’t want this anymore,” he crooned. “If you want to act like a whore, then you’re going to get treated like a whore.” Once again, Aaron pulled out, but he didn’t let go of me. He dragged me over to the bed, bent me over it face down, and started fucking me again. One of his hands ran up my spine until it reached the nape of my neck. He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked my head back, baring my throat. 

I wondered how I looked right then—naked, sweaty, gagged and panting like a dog with my eyes rolled back, saliva dripping down my chin, with a man nearly fifteen years older than me fucking me from behind after he just interrogated me. Wondered if someone had told me at the beginning of the day this would be how I ended it, would I have believed them? 

I grabbed two handfuls of the comforter, trying to keep myself somewhat grounded. Aaron didn’t seem to care much that my legs weren’t working under me, or that I was essentially sobbing into his leather belt. It felt like all he cared about was chasing his orgasm, hitting my cervix as hard as he could with every thrust in, dragging his cock against all the best spots inside me on his way out. It was sloppy. It was borderline too much, but I wasn’t going to be the one calling it off. 

“Fucking bitch—need to learn some goddamn respect—so fucking tight,” he groaned. Once again, he started stimulating my clit, rubbing quick little circles around it until my legs were twitching. 

It didn’t take a lot until I was coming around his dick. I bit down on the leather until my jaw ached, tears falling freely down my face, walls clenching around him in a viselike grip, trying to ride it out as long as I could. 

Behind me, his grip in my hair loosened, and I heard him moan loudly. Shortly after, there was the hot rush of him coming inside me. His cock pulsed before he slowly removed himself, making sure I felt every inch of him leave. 

I was limp. Totally, completely drained. I was barely even on this planet anymore. 

Aaron, somehow, had enough energy to roll my onto my back. “Open,” he requested. My jaw was slack anyways. He gently worked the belt out from between my teeth, then pulled out the underwear, tossing both away. I lazily swiped at my chin with the back of my hand, trying to wipe away the slobber. I stretched my jaw, working out the kinks. 

I wanted to say something, but I wasn’t sure what. Instead, all I could do was watch as he went to one of my dressers, opening drawers until he found what he was looking for. He came back with one of my sleep shirts. “Arms up.” After essentially manhandling me into my shirt, he settled me higher up on the bed, covering me with the blankets. 

That was one of the better parts of liking older men. The sex was great, but some would dare say that the aftercare was even better. “You,” I finally said, “are such a fucking dork.”

Before his confused look could manifest into words, I added, “You act all big and tough in the moment, but at the end of the day, you’re totally soft.”

“Interesting theory. Would you rather I just left you on the bed like that?” He had put his underwear back on at some point, and now he propped a knee on the edge of the bed, leaning over me. His hair wasn’t as styled as it was in the interrogation room; it fell over his face lazily. He looked more relaxed in general, an easy smile gracing his lips. 

I scowled. “You’d be a dick and you know it.” I paused here, not sure what the procedure was. He’d already broken every single other one of my expectations. “Are you staying the night, or are you gonna head out? Because not to brag, but I give pretty good morning head.”

He snorted, dropping his head down to rest on my shoulder. “Of course you do. If I stay over, I’ll be gone before you wake up.”

“Ugh, all you old people with your schedules. I’ll allow it, as long as you don’t try and be sweet and, like, kiss my forehead or something before you leave. ‘Cause that’s fucking gross.” I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, gently scratching his head. 

His voice was muffled against my skin when he said, “That’s a deal.” Aaron groaned dramatically, pulling back. He looked as exhausted as I felt, but he still took the time to gather up all his clothes and fold them. 

I threw the blankets off, already feeling the telltale trickle between my legs. Waddling to the bathroom, I tried to ignore the fact that there was a man who was in high school before I was even born getting comfortable in my bed. I quickly cleaned myself up and peed, then brushed my teeth and tried to make my hair look messy-but-sexy before heading back out. 

The guy was basically already passed out. He was belly down on my bed, star-fished out with his head buried in a pillow. 

I turned out the lights and crawled into the empty spot next to him, mirroring his pose, except on my back. We weren’t quite touching, but our legs crossed over each other’s, and our arms brushed when I went to grab a pillow. 

He must have thought I was asleep sooner rather than later, because about two minutes after I laid down, he shifted closer, like he was testing to see if I was awake. When I didn’t respond, he shuffled closer and settled down half on top of me, his head on my chest. We both pretended I was still asleep when I started gently scratching his back, letting my hand drift to the small of his back to the crown of his head.

I guess we both liked sweet.