Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6060196.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Criminal_Minds
  Relationship:
      Derek_Morgan/Spencer_Reid
  Character:
      Spencer_Reid, Derek_Morgan
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-19 Words: 3804
****** I Won't Let You Take This, Too ******
by its_just_us_here
Summary
     Set in season 8. Spencer comforts Derek after he has to confront
     Buford in jail. Archive warnings are for mentions of Derek's past
     abuse. Just an excuse to write some cute fluff about Spencer being a
     good boyfriend? Gets smutty halfway through.
Notes
     Uhhh idk this is my first fan fic & i didn't do a ton of editing, be
     nice, sorry byeeeeee
It was late, almost midnight, when Derek finally got back to his apartment. It
had been at least a week since he’d been there. The team spent several days in
Chicago, chasing down a serial killer who was a victim of the same man who had
molested Derek. Too much had been asked of Derek that week: Sharing his most
personal secret with his entire team, confronting men whose lives were falling
apart because of the very same memories that haunted him, facing his childhood
abuser. He was on edge, shaky. And longing for comfort.
He turned on a lamp and took a minute to look around his apartment. Suddenly
everything in his life had taken on a new light, like he was seeing it with new
eyes. Carl Buford was dead, murdered in prison after his real crimes were
announced. Derek couldn’t stop replaying the phone call in his head, couldn’t
stop reliving the sense of relief, of weightlessness, upon hearing the news. It
was a vicious cycle, though; the news coming just a few days after Derek had
sat across from his molester in the Cook County jail. I always liked that mouth
of yours, Buford had snarled at him. The memories were fighting for dominance
in his brain. Do you still like mint chocolate chip ice cream? followed
urgently by He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.
Derek was still standing in his entryway surveying his living room when he
heard a tentative knock on the door. He turned around and with a quick glance
through the peephole, he saw Spencer Reid on the other side and opened the door
slowly.
“Hey,” Spencer said lamely.
“Hey yourself,” Derek replied, stepping aside to let Spencer into the
apartment.
Derek had been avoiding him in Chicago, and Spencer knew it, and Derek knew
that Spencer knew it. Reid walked into the apartment quietly, a tension hanging
between them.
As Derek had relived the worst moments of his life in front of his team over
the past week, the only person he wanted to comfort him was Spencer, but he
couldn’t bring himself to be alone with the other agent. This thing between
them – whatever it was – was new, and fragile. It had started out in a dark
place, Derek helping Spencer through the grief of losing Maeve, but from there
it had somehow grown into something light; joyful and easy.
“How’d you know I was back?” Derek asked. After the plane had touched down at
Quantico, he had spent all day and most of the night at a house he was
restoring out in Reston, Virginia.
“I, uh… Already tried knocking a few times tonight,” Spencer admitted, looking
a little embarrassed.
Derek had no doubts about his feelings for his coworker; he was completely,
totally consumed by love. But he had a lot of doubts about Spencer’s
intentions. Not that Spencer would ever purposefully take advantage of Derek’s
feelings, but Derek worried that their new relationship was a rebound of sorts,
or a way for Spencer to put his grief on hold for a while. The last thing Derek
wanted was for Spencer to feel that his new boyfriend – was that what he was? –
came with too much emotional trauma, that he would be expected to help carry
the burden of what happened Carl Buford’s cabin.
Finally Spencer turned to him. “You were avoiding me in Chicago.” It wasn’t an
accusation; Spencer’s face was open, concerned. He was merely stating the
facts.
“Spencer, you don’t have to do this,” Derek said earnestly, looking at the
floor to shield his face. His eyes were wet, something he hadn’t expected, but
he had been holding in so much emotion that he guessed he couldn’t be too
surprised. Spencer was the person he wanted there when he finally broke down,
but he didn’t know how to ask for it, and was terrified that Spencer wouldn’t
want to see it.
Spencer took a few steps forward, wanting to be close to Derek, but leaving a
foot of space between them. His hands were stuffed firmly in his pockets, a
message they both understood. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. You
can trust me with that.
Derek closed the space. His arms stayed at his side as he gently rested his
forehead on Spencer’s shoulder. For a few moments, the agents stood still,
breathing together. Spencer didn’t want to rush Derek, and Derek wondered how
his friend could know exactly what he needed in that moment.
Eventually Spencer broke the silence, his voice strained. He was overwhelmed by
his compassion for Derek, sharing his pain. “You don’t have to tell me anything
you don’t want to, but there’s nothing you could tell me that I wouldn’t want
to hear, Derek.”
In response, Derek exhaled slowly, shakily. “I just don’t want this hanging
over us, Kid. I don’t want those images in your head; you know they’ll be stuck
up there forever,” he said with a dry chuckle, referencing Spencer’s eidetic
memory. “I just… what he did to me…”
“What did he do to you?” Spencer asked shyly, almost so quiet that Derek
couldn’t hear. He suspected that Derek had never told anyone – not really –
always glossing over the explicit details.
Derek reached for Spencer’s hands, digging them out of pockets, and at the same
time turned around so that Spencer was left holding him from behind, his
slender arms wrapped around Derek’s waist, Derek’s own hands gingerly placed on
his forearms. Derek couldn’t do this if he had to watch his lover’s face.
Spencer nosed at Derek’s neck, gingerly placing a kiss behind Derek’s ear.
“I was just a kid,” Derek started bitterly.
“I know,” Spencer replied, tightening his hold, pulling Derek closer.
“The first time… He brought me to the cabin for the weekend, just us – a boys’
weekend, he said. I felt so special, almost like I had a dad again. It started
out fine. We fished, we went out on the boat, ate dinner. When he pulled out
the wine and let me have some, I felt grown up, like a man. I didn’t know yet
just how quickly he was going to make me grow up.”
Derek paused to take a few deep breaths while Spencer buried his face in
Derek’s shoulder.
The pause stretched on and Spencer could feel Derek shaking, fighting to keep
himself together. “Fuck. Spencer. I’m not ready to do this.”
Derek turned around in Spencer’s arms and they were looking at each other in
the face. “Pretty boy, when I’m on top of you in bed, I don’t want you to ever
think about how he pinned me down, a 13-year-old kid, and shoved himself inside
me while I screamed and begged for it to stop,” he continued, anger and
bitterness radiating off his body.
Spencer’s brows furrowed, taking in the weight of what his partner had just
revealed. “Derek, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when you’re on top of me
in bed, I’m not exactly thinking of anyone or anything else… You’ll notice that
my usual never-ending recitation of statistics slows down considerably when
you’re touching me,” he said playfully into the other’s ear, hoping to lighten
the mood just the right amount. “But besides that, I don’t draw any connection
between what happened with you and Buford and what happens between us. There
are no parallels. You were a kid being forced to do something you didn’t want
and didn’t understand. What we have is so different, and so much more than
that.”
Derek had never been much of a talker, had never let anyone in as far as he had
let Spencer in during the last ten minutes. He was trying to stifle his
internal panic that this was scaring Spencer away, but Spencer’s steady breath
against his neck was a welcome reassurance. “Hey,” he let out roughly. “Kid, I
just, uh… Give me a few minutes, okay?” He took a step backwards, outstretched
arms still resting on Spencer’s ribs, his face scared and questioning looking
up into Spencer’s.
“Of course,” came Spencer’s reply. Derek leaned in for a quick kiss to the
other man’s lips: short and sweet, probably the gentlest and most sincere kiss
Derek had received in his lifetime.
Derek turned away and headed towards the bathroom, closing the door. Spencer
stayed glued to the spot for a minute before he heard the shower start and he
turned to rummage through his bag for a book.
Spencer moved to the bedroom. He stripped off a few of the seemingly endless
layers he was wearing, discarding a coat and a cardigan and a tie and a button-
down and settled into Derek’s bed in his cords and a white undershirt. He laid
on his back and opened the book but couldn’t concentrate on the words, a rare
occasion for him. Laying it on his chest, he stared up at the ceiling, so lost
in thought that he startled at the sound on the bathroom door opening a few
minutes later.
Wearing just a pair of boxer briefs, Derek came into the room still toweling
off his arms. “Whatchu reading, Boy Genius?”
Spencer grinned slightly at the nickname and wordlessly held up the book for
Derek to see the cover. It wasn’t in English.
“Of course,” Derek laughed, stretching out beside him on the bed. He gently
took the book out of Spencer’s hands and placed it on the nightstand.
He was propped up on one elbow, looking down into Spencer’s eyes for a moment
before leaning in for a kiss. Unlike earlier, this kiss was long and drawn out,
and escalating quickly. Derek’s free hand reached out and snaked up Spencer’s
shirt, caressing his stomach, as his tongue ran along Spencer’s bottom lip.
Spencer let out the softest, most delicious whimper as he turned slightly to
reach out one hand for Derek’s neck and the other for his waist. For awhile
they stayed just like that, lazily entwined, moving slowly to explore each
other’s mouths. Both men were a little nervous to make the first move after
their conversation earlier.
Eventually, Derek pulled away, just a few inches. His eyes were darting over
Spencer’s face, searching for any sign of reluctance or repulsion to what he
had learned over the past week. Seeing none, Derek sighed contentedly and
lowered his head so that their foreheads were touching. With the gentlest push,
Spencer was on his back again and Derek maneuvered his hips between Spencer’s
thighs. With his forearms planted on either side of Spencer’s head, Derek
leaned back down to continue the kiss.
As Derek’s tongue darted in and out of his mouth, Spencer noticed idly that
their hips weren’t touching yet, that Derek was hovering almost awkwardly above
him, his muscular back straining to keep the contact between their bodies
minimal. Spencer let his hands slide down Derek’s chest to his hips and gently
tugged them downward; not using enough force to actually move the older man –
not wanting to force anything about the evening – but just signaling that it
was okay. Derek gave in, closing the gap between their bodies, and as their
erections rubbed together for the first time, both men moaned at the friction.
Spencer’s fingertips were low on Derek’s back, sliding just slightly under the
waistband of his boxers, urging the older man to keep his hips moving against
his own. Derek was breathing heavily and broke the kiss, moving his face
instead to Spencer’s neck and letting out a groan. He planted a few kisses but
was too overwhelmed to keep sucking and biting. “Ohhh Pretty Boy. Fuck.”
Hearing his favorite nickname, Spencer grew impatient. His thumbs hooked the
waistband of Derek’s underwear and whined, “Derek. Off. Take these off.”
Derek laughed into his neck, the rush of moist, warm air driving Spencer crazy.
“What about you? Still got a lotta layers on, Doc.”
With one last, rough grind of his hips, Derek sat up onto bent knees and
dragged a hand down Spencer’s chest, down his stomach, resting at the hem of
his shirt. “Sit up for me, Kid.” Spencer immediately complied and lifted his
arms over his head so Derek could free him of his shirt. They snuck a quick
kiss before Spencer let himself fall back with a soft thud. Derek couldn’t help
but lick his lips and he stared down and admired how beautiful Spencer was:
soft white skin, a thin but just-slightly-muscular frame, hot messy hair, and
the most perfect lips he had ever seen. His hands traced lightly over Spencer’s
lower stomach before finally moving to the button and zipper of his pants.
Derek gave two quick pats to the outside of Spencer’s right hip, signaling for
him to lift them up for him, which he immediately did.
Locking eyes and giving Spencer the most deliciously dirty stare, Derek slowly
dragged his lover’s pants and underwear down until they were completely off his
body. Derek stepped backwards off the edge of the bed for a moment to pull them
all the way off Spencer’s feet, which distracted him momentarily. One green
sock with purple T-rexes; one pink sock with yellow rhinos. Letting out a
hearty laugh, Derek shook his head. “Where do you even find these?”
Spencer lifted his head up slightly to admire his own socks and laughed with
him. “What? You don’t like them?” he asked playfully, wiggling his toes.
Derek leaned down and planted a kiss on Spencer’s shin. “I love them, baby.
Love everything about you.”
Then he stiffened noticeably. He hadn’t meant to say it. It was too soon, and
too big. Too much. His lips still pressed to Spencer’s leg, he said hurriedly,
“Babe, I…”
“Der,” Spencer cut him off. He sat up and reached a hand down to Derek’s head,
signaling to him to look up, which Derek did, bashfully. “Don’t panic. I love
you, too. Everything about you.” He smiled down at Derek, whose face was
showing visible signs of relief.
Another quick peck to Spencer’s shin and Derek was standing up, wiggling out of
his boxers, his cock springing out. Wasting no time, Derek was already climbing
back onto the bed, over Spencer’s body, wanting to be as close to him as
possible.
“Uh… er… Der? My socks?” Spencer lifted his bent knees so that his still-
clothed feet were running up the outside of Derek’s legs.
“Leave ‘em on,” Derek said roughly into Spencer’s chest, where he was currently
busy planting kisses and sucking on his collarbone. As Derek’s lips moved up
Spencer’s body back to his face, so, too did his hips and finally their cocks
were rubbing together again, without the fabric keeping them apart.
“Nnnggh. Derek. Please,” Spencer begged. Their lips were touching, not actually
kissing, but just grazing each other between ragged breaths.
“Mmmmm Pretty Boy. Tell me what you want,” Derek murmured, but before Spencer
could reply Derek was already shifting his weight so he could reach a hand
between them, and suddenly both their cocks were enveloped in the heat of
Derek’s hand, stroking them quickly and roughly.
“This. God, Derek. I… want this… Want you,” Spencer could barely get his words
out, his back arching, trying to thrust his hips upward into Derek’s hand. This
went on for a few minutes, Spencer’s hands splayed urgently against Derek’s
back, both men moaning and swearing.
“More… I need more, want you… closer. In me,” Spencer let out between breaths.
Derek could only groan in response, and was eager to comply. His hand stopped
as he sat up, reaching to the nightstand for lube, Spencer whining at the loss
of contact.
“Calm down, calm down,” Derek chided. Spencer smiled sheepishly in response.
Finally, Derek was back over him, a lubed up finger slowly reaching down for
his hole. Derek was looking right into Spencer’s eyes, both men reveling in the
closeness, the intimacy, neither wanting to look anywhere else. They were
gazing directly at each other as Derek shoved a finger inside with no warning,
even Spencer’s quick hiss not enough to break them apart.
Derek’s other hand was cradling the side of Spencer’s face. Despite himself, he
had the briefest flashback to that horrible cabin; for just a split second,
felt his body bent over a dusty table, felt a finger sliding inside him,
reliving the confusion and the pain he felt as a young teenager.
His finger stopped moving inside Spencer and he grimaced noticeably, dropping
his head to bury his face in the pillow beside Spencer’s ear.
“Hey, babe. You okay?” Spencer turned his head so his lips were grazing Derek’s
skin.
His breathing was uneasy for a moment, but he decided with steely resolve that
Carl Buford didn’t get to take this away from him: He didn’t get to take away
the bright, shining love that he felt for Spencer, the absolute beauty of the
trust that they shared, the intimacy of getting to touch each other in the most
pleasurable ways.
Derek lifted himself up and kissed Spencer so roughly, so passionately that
Spencer was caught off guard, but it took only a second for him to reciprocate.
Their tongues tangled around each other fiercely as Derek added a second
finger, as Spencer mewed softly against his lips, as Derek felt so much heat
and comfort and longing build in his chest. Derek didn’t ever want to move from
this exact spot.
He continued working the fingers inside Spencer, scissoring and stretching and
relishing the warmth. Finally a third finger slid in and he moaned into
Spencer’s mouth when the younger man tried futilely to push his hips backwards
against his fingers.
“Mmmm, you like that, don’t you, Pretty Boy?” Derek teased, his lips only
daring to move millimeters away from Spencer’s.
“God, I’m ready, Derek. No fingers. Want you,” Spencer’s reply was laced with
desire.
Derek, too, was more than ready; his neglected cock had started leaking precome
onto Spencer’s stomach. He quickly reached for more lube. Sitting up between
Spencer’s legs, Derek hastily stroked himself for a few seconds, leaning his
head back and allowing his mouth to fall open as his free hand lazily rubbed
Spencer’s left thigh.
No words came to him, but Spencer let out a frustrated moan – simultaneously
getting super horny from watching his boyfriend touch himself, but also
impatient to be filled up again.
“Fuck, Spence.” Derek lined himself up to Spencer’s hole and leaned over to
bring their faces back together. “So fucking hard. Want to be in you so bad.”
Slowly and tenderly, Derek pushed himself forward, letting Spencer adjust.
Their breathing was in synch, their eyes locked, as Derek took in the sight of
his love taking him in. When he was fully inside Spencer, Derek moaned at the
tightness and let his face fall to Spencer’s shoulder, suckling and licking and
whining and wishing there were a way for them to be even closer than they
already were.
After a minute, Spencer wiggled his hips under Derek, a signal that he was
ready for Derek to start moving.
They started out slowly, oh so slowly. Derek pumped his cock inside Spencer in
long, sure movements. Everything that had happened in the past months, in the
past week, was right there with them in the room. Spencer’s grief and
heartbreak, Derek’s trauma. The fact that the only person who could help either
of them through their darkest moments was right there, moving alongside the
other. Each man was letting out tender whimpers, soft moans. Neither wanted
this to ever end, wanted to feel this closeness forever.
Eventually as the pleasure started to build for each of them, Spencer jutted
his hips up. “Mmm, Derek. I can’t… Need you to…” He moaned. “Faster… Need to…”
Derek picked up the pace, slamming his hips forward with urgency. They were
panting, kissing, groping. Hands searching for bare flesh to grab, teeth
scouring each other’s skin.
Spencer’s breathing was starting to hitch, his groans going up in pitch. Derek
pulled back slightly to look down at his face and saw his eyes scrunched up. If
Derek didn’t know him better, he would’ve thought Spencer was in pain, but
Derek knew it just meant he was close, searching for release. Derek reached a
hand between them and gripped Spencer’s hardness firmly.
“Pretty Boy…” he breathed between thrusts. Spencer wrapped his legs firmly
around Derek’s waist and he could feel those damn socks on his lower back. He
couldn’t help but laugh. “God, I love you so much… the way you look right now,
so fucking close to blowing your load over my hand…”
“Der… pl.. please… So close…”
“I know, Spence.” He pumped his hand and his hips faster. “Want you to let go,
baby. Come for me…”
It was all Spencer needed, and with a loud cry his cock was spurting white
liquid over his own chest and Derek’s hand.
“Ohhhh, God, Pretty Boy,” Derek panted. “My favorite sight.” Derek moved his
hand to the bed beside Spencer, giving himself leverage to fuck into his hole
even faster, racing towards his own release.
“Der, you make me feel so good. Want you to fill me up, come inside me,”
Spencer begged.
It didn’t take long. After a few more thrusts, Derek cried out and his pace
became uneven, slowing down as he collapsed and rested most of his weight
directly on top of Spencer, who was tracing gentle circles over his shoulder
blades.
When he finally came down from his orgasm, Derek reluctantly rolled off of his
partner, slowly pulling out, and reached for a tissue to clean up. After, he
snuggled close to Spencer, laying his head on the other man’s chest and letting
Spencer wrap his arms around him. It wasn’t usually how they arranged
themselves after sex, the roles usually reversed, Derek normally cradling and
comforting Spencer. Derek burrowed his face further into Spencer’s chest, and
Spencer pulled him as close as he could, arms almost straining from how tight
he wanted to hold him.
Spencer felt just a few wet teardrops hit his chest before Derek’s body started
shaking with his sobs. Neither of them said anything about it, just gripped
each other harder. Spencer ran a hand up and down Derek’s back, pressed his
lips to the top of Derek’s head, murmuring soft “shhhh’s” into his skin. Derek
let out all of the emotions he had been barely holding back – all of shame,
disgust, anger – but the good ones, too: all of the love he was afraid to admit
to.
After awhile Derek’s body stilled. The room was silent except for the
occasional sniffle, and just a few minutes later Derek was asleep, safe and
secure in Spencer’s arms.
 
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