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It’d been established, when he’d joined, that he would tell no one of what he was. His mind, eidetic memory and substantial IQ, had been enough to wave him through channels he normally couldn’t have been. 

He’d been hired in a field meant for the supernatural — him, a human.

Oh, they’d prepared him. Given him scent-blockers, sheets of papers detailing just exactly how he could hide what he was — or, more accurately, what he wasn’t.  

Of all the things he’d expected his mundane life to lead to, this… this was not one of them.

 

~

 

Aaron Hotchner has a feeling, one that is insistent, tickling the back of his mind and demanding to be considered. A feeling that has no basis, no concrete proof other than what he himself suspects. 

Working as the unit chief for the FBI’s vampire-only BAU team was… interesting. There was still stigma, negative connotations that tainted the team’s reputation in the public eye, but he knew what they were capable of and did his best to prove that.

David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareuau, Penelope Garcia — all vampires. Garcia was the youngest, only turned a decade ago, while he and Rossi had centuries under their belts. 

And then there was Spencer Reid.

Genius, admittedly. But clumsy. Unsure of himself. Someone who maintained the ability to blush when most vampires lost it after being turned. 

Aaron couldn’t quite pinpoint just what it was about the younger man that caught his interest, but… there was just something different about Spencer Reid.

It was a case in Vermont, approaching midnight, when it happened.

Aaron was tired. He’d missed his scheduled feeding at the local hospital — caught up interviewing a witness — and they weren’t able to fit him in again until the next day. He was already pushing his limit, going on nearly a week, and his body was starting to slow, starting to show signs of exhaustion that normally only came from major injuries. 

And on top of that there was Reid.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was borderlining a collapse from hunger or because of the frustration from the case dragging on, but whatever it was that called to him from Reid was distracting, even more so than usual.

Aaron couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his mind from straying back to the young man with honey curls and pale doe eyes, and it is driving him out of his mind. The case, normally a priority and glued to the forefront of his thoughts, was taking back burner to Reid.

There’s… there’s this scent, a feeling — something about Reid that was drawing all of his normally razor-sharp focus and he knows he needs to figure it out if he’s to be on the top of his game. 

He can’t let himself get distracted lest he put the team, his team, in danger, let alone the LEOs and victims. 

It’s then, with those thoughts in the quiet of the conference room, that he decides he needs to know.

Aaron isn’t sure what he’s expecting. A confession, a deflection — something pointing him in a direction he’d not considered. He finds himself crowding Reid into the wall, glad, in the back of his mind, that the others had all gone back to the hotel for the night. No, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but—

What he wasn’t expecting was for Reid to tilt his head, offering his neck in submission the way he does so perfectly. An instinctual move made by accident — and Aaron can tell by the way Reid’s cheeks color that he truly hadn’t meant to do it — and then suddenly there’s this scent and now—

And now Aaron is thrown because the scent is just so sweet and enticing and his nose is pressed into the crook of Reid’s neck and — what is he doing?

Reid goes still and he can feel, against his lips, the way the younger man’s pulse steadily increases, is aware of the uncertainty and fear spreading in the air and suddenly he knows.

“H-Hotch?” Reid stutters as his hands move up to grip Aaron’s arms. 

“You’re human,” Aaron breathes against his neck. Reid shivers and he shifts closer, pressing the genius more firmly into the wall.

“Y-Yes. They — they made me sign to keep it quiet. Didn’t… didn’t know how the team would react if you all knew what I was,” was the hesitant reply. “When… when was the last time you fed, Hotch?”

“... six days ago,” he admits. He can’t find it in him to back away from Reid. He takes another breath, allowing his mouth to fall open to better scent, and yes. It’s there — faint, but there. So sweet, so alluring, so… so his. His fangs push through his gums and he seals his lips in an attempt to keep control.

“Oh, Hotch…” Reid murmurs. His hands ease their grip and suddenly he’s cupping the back of Aaron’s neck and pulling him closer, head tilting further — in submission or offering, Aaron isn’t sure.

“Reid…” he warns. 

“Just Spencer. I’m offering. You need it and I heard you telling JJ they put you off until tomorrow for your feeding. Don’t deny yourself. I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think you do,” Aaron replies. He can hear the tension in his voice, the need, and he knows it’s because all he can scent is Reid — Spencer. He knows his brain is going foggy, knows the ache in his mouth is only getting worse, but…

“Feed, Aaron,” Spencer’s voice is so soft, so encouraging, and he can’t help but to allow his mouth to fall open, fangs grazing Spencer’s skin, and the moment, the exact moment Spencer lets out a stuttered gasp, he pierces the naked column of his throat.

The warm, thick pool of blood in his mouth is immediate and more addictive in taste than he could ever have expected. Then again, it’s been years since he fed directly from a human (normally hospitals supply blood bags) but he can’t ever remember it tasting quite like this.

And maybe it’s the way Spencer surrenders so wholly against him, pinned against the wall as he is, Aaron looming over his smaller form. Maybe it’s the way his head tips back to bare his throat further as Aaron feeds, drinks, savors — but Aaron finds himself lifting Spencer by the hips, guiding long legs around his waist and leaning into the lean body he now holds off the ground.

Spencer is keening, a soft, high-pitched noise that speaks of his pleasure as his hips rut uncontrollably into Aaron’s abdomen. Aaron’s own cock is hard and thick in his slacks but he pays it no mind as he feeds. He can taste the exact moment Spencer’s pleasure overwhelms him, can feel the way the lithe form stutters and jerks in his hold, and he pulls back, laving over the puncture marks to encourage them to heal as Spencer moans, long and soft and broken in his arms. 

They’re both panting, Aaron’s chest heaving in large breaths he doesn’t need but he can’t help it — the scent of Spencer had only increased, only sweetened with his completion and it’s the best thing he’s ever scented and Spencer is nuzzling against his neck, breath hot against the damp skin, and Aaron is sighing.

He knows the exact moment Spencer’s awareness returns, can feel the young doctor’s blush against his neck, hear the soft noise of embarrassment he makes.

“Spencer,” Aaron whispers, hands tightening on his hips. Spencer shivers at the hold but hums back a questioning tone. “You… thank you.”

“Anytime,” is the gentle reply, breathed soft, quiet against the shell of his ear, and Aaron shivers. 

“Don’t tempt me.”