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I’d never been that much of a romantic. I loved the idea in theory, but any time I tried to imagine myself as the one being swept off her feet, the movie quickly turned to a comedy. It was simply too awkward, too strange and foreign to picture me spread out amongst rose petals and covered in lace.

But I really, really wanted Spencer to see me that way. Sometimes when he looked at me, I swore I could see hearts amongst the hazel. Other times I second guessed whether he was even attracted to me at all. I wrote it off as my own insecurity. After all, he told me that he liked me, and he was rarely wrong.

I wanted him to see me as a thing of beauty; a woman worth spending his time on. I wanted to have that experience of my body drawing and holding his attention like gravity. I wanted him to want me, unabashedly.

Clearly, I needed help.

My friends, all much more practiced in romance than myself, initially jumped at the opportunity. But after nearly three hours of suggestions (always followed by pep talks and reassurances that became less enthusiastic by the second), they were ready to give up on me.

They didn’t seem to understand that Spencer wasn’t like most men. He wasn’t the kind of person who wanted me to dress in ornate lingerie — he could hardly get my bra off half the time. And while he was easy to arouse, he seemed to want to take things painfully slow.

Then it came to them; an epiphany that seemed perfectly suited to my desire to jumpstart our sex life without going overboard. A simple gesture that I might be able to do without laughing, and he would be forced to at least address the situation.

It was the first time Spencer Reid was going to spend the night at my place, and I was completely naked.

Granted, I had been hiding under the sheets and drowning in embarrassment and anxiety ever since he called to tell me that he was on his way. I knew it took him half an hour to get here, and he was meant to text me when he pulled in. I’d given him a key, but I wanted a warning, anyway.

You know, in case I changed my mind and didn’t want my barely-boyfriend to walk in on me in my birthday suit.

The clock seemed to both lag and skip. It was impossible for me to guess what it would read when I looked at it. Einstein’s jokes on relativity were mocking me, and I could hear them all in my head with Spencer’s voice. I couldn’t trust my sense of time, but I trusted the clock. When the thirty-minute mark hit, I knew that he had to be coming any second.

I panicked.

In an absolutely chaotic frenzy, I’d jumped from my safety under the sheets and raced to find something, anything more interesting than myself. Unfortunately, as the completely boring blob that I knew myself to be, I had nothing like the usual easy fixes my friends described. No negligees, corsets, or sexy bralettes around. Just an old t-shirt splattered with paint from when I’d moved in.

I didn’t think about what I looked like, I figured I still had time. Spencer still hadn’t texted me, and I was honestly expecting that when he did, it would be because he was telling me that he’d changed his mind and was heading to his own home instead.

I didn’t think about what I looked like, bent over my laundry basket with no bottoms on while trying to grab the last clean item I’d thrown over it in my frustration.

I didn’t think about it at all, but Spencer certainly did.

Wow,” was apparently all he had to say.

My heart stopped in my chest, which was still pressed against dirty clothes, by the way. All of the blood rushed to my face even when I righted my position. It felt pointless to tug my shirt down now, knowing that he’d already seen everything with perfect clarity, but I did it, nonetheless.

“Spencer!” I actually shouted, my voice shattering with the sound of him shutting my bedroom door, “Hey! You were supposed to text me when you got here.”

“Yeah, sorry, my phone died right when I…”

He was talking, but it was in such a far-off way that it felt like he thought he was speaking more clearly than the reality of it. His words trailed off and never found their way back until he was practically backing me up against my bed.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, and I spotted a previously unseen, playful curiosity in his eyes. But most of his expression was confused and slightly concerned, like he was almost ashamed to have seen me in my current state of dress.

I was certainly concerned and ashamed, which explained why I scrambled back under the covers like that would solve the problem.

“Nothing,” I answered, trying to convince both of us that it wasn’t a lie, “Nothing’s going on.”

Spencer didn’t fall for it.

“Nothing?” he repeated while his hand slipped underneath the covers. He found my thigh so quickly that I was convinced he could actually see straight through the fabric.

“Are you sure? You seem tense,” he mumbled, letting fingers drift over my inner thighs before ghosting over the heat between them, “And underdressed.”

I could barely breathe, much less think. But his eyes were locked with mine so intensely, I knew that I had to answer.

“Y-Yeah. I am,” I said through a gasp as his hand continued its ascent with no hesitation. “Sorry.”

I regretted the word the second I said it, because it stopped Spencer in his tracks. I missed the warmth of his hand against my stomach immediately, despite the fact he still rested it against me over the covers.

“Why are you sorry?” he muttered, and I realized that I’d done the worst possible thing. In my attempts to assure him he wasn’t dating a complete and total disaster, I’d made him think that he’d done something wrong.

The eyes that had viewed me with a voracious hunger were now delicately caressing my face. The guilt became too much to bear, and with my usual complete lack of grace, I blurted out the only explanation I could think to try.

“I was trying to be... sexy,” I said.

And Spencer did not miss a single beat when he replied, “Mission accomplished.”

If nothing else, it succeeded in making me laugh.

“No! It was way better!” I squealed, throwing the covers off of me in favor of crawling onto his lap, “But then I freaked out and—“

“Freaked out about what?” he swiftly interjected. Always a clever boy, that one.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, chewing on my lip because I knew he would find the next part laughable, “I was worried you’d think I was sleazy or something.”

Sleazy?” he scoffed, “Why?”

I tried to look away from him, but he cupped my face and brought my eyes back to his. The playfulness had returned, but this time it seemed tainted with something darker. A greedy possessiveness that made me feel faint when I stared too long.

My mouth continued to move without my permission, spilling my secrets to the man who seemed hellbent on tearing them out of me one way or another.

“You know, it’s just the first night we’re spending together, but that doesn’t mean we’re necessarily going to have sex. I mean, you might not even want to have sex with me!”

“I do,” he answered.

“What?” I asked, but he stayed sure.

“I want to have sex with you,” he clarified, and all I could say back was, “Oh.”

“If you’re still offering, that is,” Spencer said with a shrug that was way funnier than it should’ve been. But unlike the usual romance turned comedy, this time felt different. There was an undercurrent of lust and longing that felt entirely new.  

“I— I mean, yeah. Yeah, I am,” I mumbled through the haze.

If I’d been granted even a second longer, I would have overthought it again. I would have panicked and crawled away from him and back under the covers. I would have hidden behind my hands and as many layers of fabric as possible.

I think Spencer knew that, too. I think that was why he kissed me. Nothing shuts me up quite like his mouth could. Although, this time it was different. Unlike previous, chaste kisses, Spencer’s tongue sneaked between my lips like he’d done it a million times before. It was juvenile, really, how much such a subtle thing affected me.

But how could I be embarrassed when the sound of my desperate panting made him smile? As if on cue, Spencer pulled my whole body closer so I could feel his erection pressed firmly against my thigh. Again, he cut off my delicious train of thought with a quip that took me by surprise.

“I have to confess, I like it better that you’re clothed,” he whispered into my ear.

It seemed both ludicrous and fitting, and I found myself desperate for his answer.

“Why?” I breathed while my hands worked at undoing his slacks.

Spencer waited until the metal of his belt fell to the side before he grabbed my wrists and used them to push me back onto the bed. Even then, his grip stayed firm as he pinned me underneath him. He leaned forward, taunting me with a brief brush of his lips over mine before he chuckled.

“I like having something to unwrap.”

I was grateful that he relieved my wrists, because they found the sheets just as fast. My fingers slipped on the silk, seemingly aware that they wouldn’t be able to hold on for long. For all his excitement regarding the wrapping paper, he didn’t hesitate to pull my shirt over my head in seconds flat. But it quickly became clear to me that he wasn’t just talking about the clothes.

Although Spencer kissed me again, his lips didn’t linger on mine; they were too busy exploring the new expanse of skin. His tongue was drawing languid patterns over my chest, clearly enjoying the way the skin prickled with goosebumps before relaxing under him again. By the time he took the first pebbled peak of my breast into his mouth, I was already lost.

He echoed my moans, stifling them against my skin while simultaneously dragging his nails down my back. I wondered how it was possible that he could consume me so fully; to envelope every part of me with the feel of his tongue and the warmth of his skin.

With each passing second, I felt my body following him, my hips rocking against his thigh that rested between them and my hands struggling with the buttons on his shirt. He sensed my impatience and tried to match it, pulling away just long enough to help me remove the rest of his clothes.

When he returned, he was wearing nothing but a devilish little smirk that made my thighs clench. Spencer noticed and remedied the problem, sliding a firm palm over my thigh before he forced them apart to accommodate him. I felt the shaft of his dick press harshly against slick folds, but he didn’t attempt to enter just yet.

“I’ve been dreaming of this,” he groaned while his hips began to gently buck against me, “Finally getting the chance to have you all to myself.”

“Do I live up to your expectations?” I giggled, but he was deathly serious as he praised, “You have far exceeded them.”

Choosing instead to cling to the fun, chaotic nature that I knew him capable of, I helped roll my hips against him as I snickered, “So have you.”

Spencer wasn’t one to back down from a fight, and he accepted my challenge with ease. He didn’t say anything at first, simply laying soft, slow kisses over my jaw and making his way to my ear. From there, he gently nipped at me before he taunted, “Imagine how it’ll feel when it’s inside you.”

I knew he could feel the heat as my face flushed, but he said nothing of it. He just continued to pepper my neck with kisses and hickeys that would be tomorrow’s problem. I was too busy falling apart in his hands to be responsible, or even coherent.

“Please,” I pleaded.  

“Not yet. I’ve only just started playing with my new toy,” Spencer whined right back, “I thought you knew by now, that I’m the kind of person that likes to break things down to figure out what every single button does.”

“Please, Spencer,” I cried at the same time his fingers ran along my sex, “W-We have all night for that.”

And despite his teasing, I knew he was equally restless. We’d waited long enough.

He gave a heavy, sarcastic sigh against my neck before he grumbled, “Fine. But only because you’re so fucking cute when you beg.”

There were no other snarky little one-liners when he finally lined himself up at my entrance. There was only an overwhelming compassion and tenderness as he whispered, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, god, please! Please fuck me!” I cried, trying and failing to buck my hips against his weight. Every muscle in my body was begging him, fighting to try and take him in quicker.

Spencer did not relent. He maintained his distance, forcing me to wait while he slowly stretched me open. Every few inches, he would pull away, leaving me practically sobbing while I writhed helplessly under his weight.

My strangled attempts at his name were only answered with a cruel laugh.

“Like I said—it’s cute when you beg,” he cooed, pressing his thumb between my lips to silence whatever curses I had for him. I returned the torture by wrapping my tongue around the finger and sucking on it like my life depended on it.

I watched the way his eyes rolled back and jaw fell open, and I could only think about how he might react when it was the real deal. If that was his response to simply imagining me doing it, I couldn’t wait to see his face when he slipped down my throat.

The thought was perfectly punctuated with Spencer’s hips snapping forward, filling me to my limit with a deep, gruff moan. He stole his thumb back from between my lips, but it didn’t stay gone for long. Instead, it came to rest between my legs, where it rubbed tight, gentle circles around my clit.

I wished that I could see what he saw, but instead I relied on the carnal gleam in his eyes while he watched where our bodies met. His hips slowed to an impossibly slow, torturous pace, and I would’ve complained about wanting more if it weren’t for the deep, delicious sounds of his rumbling chest.

“God, I love watching it disappear in you,” he groaned, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The tears that stung my eyes were as much of a result of his blatant praise as the brutal frustration that came with needing more than he was willing to give me just yet. Spencer almost laughed when he spotted the wetness dripping down my temple, but then he became gentle yet consistent in his rhythm again.

“Does it hurt, darling?” he whispered against my lips. As if he didn’t know the truth.

“It feels so good,” I started to respond before I was cut off with Spencer’s hips snapping forward to bottom out inside of me again.

“I-I can’t—!” I sobbed, throwing my head back and digging my nails into his forearms that tried to hold me down.

“That’s okay,” he mocked, each thrust more powerful than the last until I could barely hear him over the sounds of my pleasure, “You don’t have to worry about a thing, darling. Just let me take care of you.”

If my body had given me a choice, I wouldn’t have fought it, anyway. My legs wrapped around him just to fall away almost immediately from the sheer force with which he fucked me. Spencer must have liked the feel of my thighs around him, though, because one of his hands finally abandoned my hips in favor of propping my leg up.

I should’ve known that the bastard was just exploiting his mastery of physics. The next time he entered me, the head of his cock pressed against my cervix more gently than I expected. The time inside of me grew longer and his thrusts more irregular. He held himself at my innermost point, forcing me to acknowledge just how deep inside of me he was.

“Good girl,” he purred when our eyes met again.

When his other hand lifted from my hips, I took it upon myself to move my hips for him. Still, I wanted him to stay bottomed out inside of me, so I just circled around him the same way his thumb did when it finally found the tiny nub between my legs once more.

“You can do it,” he encouraged through that damn devilish smirk, “Come for me.”

It wasn’t exactly like the movies, but I was actually glad for that. I didn’t finish on his command, instead dragging out the euphoria for a few seconds longer. I wanted him to watch me try to resist the urge before I had to give in. Spencer always loved a challenge, and while I knew he would always win, I never wanted him to stop trying.

It made it all the more rewarding when I did fall apart. With wildly bucking hips and nails raking down his arms, I praised him with broken whimpers and bittersweet tears. My walls pulsed around him, dragging him through the same breathtaking euphoria with me. His release filled me, coating my insides that hungrily accepted him without hesitation.

Spencer, in all of his exhaustion, had never looked more sated. I basked in the look of pure bliss painted over his features before he promptly collapsed on top of me. I tried to laugh, but he was too heavy for my lungs to bear. In a final act of mercy, he managed to roll onto his side, instead.

For a long time, we just laid there, staring at one another with wide smiles and half-lidded eyes. Eventually, his hands began to draw more lazy patterns over my skin where his mouth had left marks. But as the goosebumps rippled over my skin and the chill ran down my spine, I made an executive decision to grab the same shirt that Spencer had carelessly thrown aside before.

Before my hand even made it past the blanket, though, he’d grabbed hold of my wrist with a firm, unforgiving, “No. I want to play with my new toy some more before I let you cover it up again.”

The words made the heat return to my cheeks and the space between my thighs, and I found myself inching closer to him until his arms wrapped around me in an embrace far preferable to the flimsy fabric.

With yet another laugh that was perfectly suited for the perfect romance, I smiled as I said, “That can be arranged.”