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Neat

Aaron Hotchner x afab!Reader (no use of y/n)

Summary; / Returning in the morning means nothing, you're just going to get your property back, nothing more.... right? A sequel to On the Rocks

This story contains explicit adult content. Minors Do Not Interact.

Warnings; explicit consensual sex, legal age gap, rough sex, size kink, spit kink, anal play, anal sex, squirting, cumplay, degrading praise, dirty talk, aftercare, dad!bod hotch deserves his own warning (and also i say this all the time but it bears repeating for this fic spit is not lube)

Word Count; ~5.2k

A/N; This might be the filthiest thing I've ever written.

Aaron woke with the taste of good scotch and you on his mouth. He tried to fool himself in thinking he hadn’t had booze-soaked dreams of you, that he hadn’t slipped your ruined underwear into the top drawer of his nightstand with a half shameful grin.

He had fallen asleep with the sounds of the party going on downstairs and woke to the noise of Jack cleaning up bottles, the dishwasher protesting its multiple cycles and the terrible sound of his son singing to something only he could hear. Blinking his vision clear he saw it was still early, earlier than he expected him to be up and cleaning and he relaxed back into his pillows, and the memory of you the night before.

There was no way you were coming back here. No way the vague promise of your underwear would see you anywhere near him until you returned to college and could pretend it was some kind of drunken fever dream.

But what a dream it was. Aaron groaned as he remembered the way you arched your back for him, the whines he could feel shaking your lungs as he pounded into you. You were so pretty, eyes glazed, fucked drunker than the $500 scotch you didn’t finish, wet enough to stain his skin, drip down his chin as your thighs shook.

You let him take you apart, dismantle you piece by piece as he watched in rapture, no hesitation in the way you let him wring pleasure from you. He loved the way your eyes went wide each time he breached you, fingers, tongue, cock. Each accompanied by the sweetest hitch in your breath, those gorgeous lips sucked between your teeth.

His only regret was not having more time with you, a soft bed to lay you down on, expensive sheets to force you to ruin, holding you down as he pushed you further than you knew your body was capable of, legs twisting as he crammed more fingers inside you, curled your body into his and felt you shake and squirt onto him, all with those same pretty little screams he was forced to muffle with his hand.

Absently he found himself squeezing his cock through his boxers, distraction in the form of a closed fist. What else would you let him do to you? Your eyes had been so wide, dazed and beautiful each time his fingers gripped your skin, moved you to his liking, pliant under his touch. What else would you allow him to do?

The dark parts of his mind curled like smoke around his hands, guiding them to slide his underwear off beneath the sheets, reach into the nightstand to pull the scrap of ruined cotton, wrap it around his aching length. It was stained, covered in your spit and cum and he hissed at the rasp of fabric across his knuckles.

Would those pretty little lips swell red and shiny when he forced his cock down your throat. Would your cheeks flush darker as tears leaked from your eyes as he fucked your face? You were so tiny, he could reach over you, pull your underwear to the side (another pair he had plans to ruin) slip his fingers through your folds and begin to work you open, just a fingertip at first, until your hips bucked back into him, begging for more of a stretch, for him to finger your ass open, ready for his mouth, his cock.

His orgasm took him by surprise. Painful in its intensity Aaron fought the groan that rumbled through his chest as he came, hard and aching into the ruined pair of underwear threaded through his fingers.

As he let his breathing settle, he felt a twinge of melancholy. You would never be alone with him again, surely.

*

You sat in your car for twenty minutes before you found the courage to get out into the street. You weren’t here for that. Definitely not, just casually dropping by to see your best friend Jack, and you had definitely forgotten that he was having lunch with his aunt, an hour away. A funny coincidence then, and sorry for disturbing you Mr. Hotchner, and while I'm here there’s that matter of my underwear? I know you shoved them in my mouth, but I'd really like them back.

This plan was idiotic. You knew that. You knew he’d see right through you within seconds of meeting your eyes. But you couldn’t not show up. The dark promise in his eyes as he kissed your knuckles. The fact that you left sated, but not satisfied. He tore you to pieces in a hurried encounter on his desk. You had wondered for the rest of the night what he could do given the gift of time and privacy.

Absently, you pushed your fingers into the bruise on your hip, the shape of his thumb dark on your skin, the sting of it reminding you of the stretch of him. You swallowed, once, enough to feel how dry your mouth had gotten at the memory.

You checked your phone, again, confirming what you already knew

Need help with the cleanup? Nah it’s already done, lunch with Jess remember? Oh I forgot sorry! Dinner tonight? I’ll be back late, Jess moved again, it’s a heck of a drive. Breakfast tomorrow? Amy too? Sounds good!

Jack was away. His car was not in the drive, the street was silent, and you’d parked around the corner anyway. It left lightning in your skin, sneaking to a house you’d spent a portion of your teen years sleeping in. You were wearing normal clothes, jeans and a loose tank, the bra and underwear matched but that definitely wasn’t on purpose. He was going to politely remind you that Jack was with Jessica, usher you out the door, ears tinged pink as he tried to forget he fucked his son’s best friend.

Surely.

*

He could smell you. That mix of candy-sweet perfume and arousal that clung to the underwear stuffed in the bottom of his laundry hamper, creeping through his bedroom like a fog. The way you slipped under his arm when he answered the door, the tremble in your shoulders as you told a thin lie. You must know he was going to call you on it. But your cheeks grew brighter, and you couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Jack’s with his aunt” He said, closing the front door, twisting the lock with a click that made you jump slightly.

“Oh” you said with a quaver in your voice, you could feel him moving closer to you, the dark earthy scent of him clouding your senses, making your knees feel week. His hands were gentle as he brushed his fingers down your neck from behind.

“But you knew that. Didn’t you?”

He needed to hear you say it, needed the confirmation that you were here, for him. He leaned close enough to smell your hair, his hand coming to slide around your waist, press his frame against your back and make you feel how he towered behind you, covering your frame with his own, his lips ghosting against your neck, the phantom touch making you shiver.

“Yes”

He bit you, just a scrape of teeth across your pulse but you melted for him anyhow, your hand coming to grasp his, pressed against your belly like a port in a storm.

“You came here for something else, didn’t you pretty girl? Tell me why you’re here”

Your mouth was dry, swollen with want, your lips felt too tight, your throat too narrow to answer. He was stroking his finger across your knuckles, the warmth of his breath just behind your ear making your brain foggy, as though he were breathing lust into your senses. You whimpered.

“Come on, good girl. Tell me, say Mr. Hotchner, I came over here because I want you to make me scream like I couldn’t last night, I want you to take me when I don’t have to be quiet, I want you to split me open on your fat cock in all my holes, please”

He held you steady as your knees went weak, pulling you hard enough into him that you could feel the evidence of his arousal against your spine, the way your back arched into him, your head falling to his shoulder as his hand gripped your jaw

“Mr. Hotchner...”

“Close enough”

He kissed you like he was dying, a deep rumbling groan shuddering through his body as he spun you in his embrace, his hands on your thighs, encouraging you to jump, wrap your legs around his thick waist as the sharp crack of his hand on your ass made you squeal against his mouth. You felt him smile as he carried you, apparently weightless to the stairs you had breached last night, pausing only to push you against a wall, his teeth against your neck.

“Thought about you all fucking morning” he said, biting your ear as you squeezed him closer to you, rocking your hips against him, cursing the denim shorts you were wearing as you bucked for friction. “Thought about those pretty sounds you had to keep to yourself. I want you to make it up to me sweetheart, can you do that, be loud for me, will you?”

His hand was under your shirt, warm and splayed wide as the slipped his fingers beneath the underwire.

“Yes, just. Keep talking to me” You managed, his voice making your head swim.

“Yeah? You like my voice little one? Want me to tell you how I spent my morning? Fucking that scrap of cotton you called underwear coming all over your spit and slick while I made sure my son didn’t hear me moaning your goddamn name.”

His grip on your skin was iron, massaging your ass through denim as backed through his bedroom door to deposit you gently on the dark grey bedspread.

“Look at me” He said, pulling his shirt over his head as you met his eyes, your legs falling open, his hand on your calf, fingers finding the curve of muscle to press down enough to make you squirm. “You talk to me too, okay? Tell me what you want”

His eyes, blown black and wide with lust in the stairwell locked onto yours, deep caramel and sincerity as he kept your gaze, kneeling to kiss the inside of your ankle, tender and soft from swollen lips, half a smile on his face as he watched you catch your breath.

“You... just you” you whispered, ignoring the way the words gripped your chest in a hot fist. This wasn’t that. This was scratching an itch, sating a curiosity. You had today, the afternoon together, and then you would fling apart like galaxies, you’d never speak of it again, repelled from each other by the weight of this secret you both held.

Aaron had held worse secrets. But this, the softness of your skin as he took the time to map every inch of you he had missed in the half darkness of his office, would weigh lighter than a feather on his conscience, burdened only by the memory of your soft sigh.

“Don’t go soft on me old man” you whispered, half a plea as his fingers drew circles on your thighs, edging closer to the worn denim.

He crushed you with his weight, caging you in between folded elbows as he ground his crotch against yours, the rasp of slacks on denim making you moan as his teeth nicked your jaw.

“Feel soft to you darling?” he laughed, rolling his hips against yours. He undid his pants onehanded, the rasp of the fly making your thighs clench as he grabbed one of your hands by the wrist, pulling you to slide your palm against his soft stomach, through the neat trail of hair to his own underwear, guiding your palm to wrap around him with a soft grunt.

He scraped his fingers across the waistband of your shorts, trailing fingers on your stomach as you felt the drips of sticky precum coat your hand, despite the awkward angle, twitching hot in your palm. Smearing the fluid around the blunt head of him brought a groan through his chest, his thighs between yours, pushing your legs wider as he licked the line of your pulse.

“Can I taste you?” you managed, words coming fuzzy and thick with arousal, remembering his command to ask for what you wanted. He bit your bottom lip in answer, rolling you together as though you weighed nothing against his bulk, trapping your hand between his body and your own as he kissed you half breathless.

He took your shirt off, throwing it somewhere behind you as you writhed against his grip, kissing the barely there stubble of his jaw, trying to move further down his body, trapped by broad arms wrapped around your shoulders.

“You want to suck my cock little girl?” he asked, finally releasing you to grab your chin, meet your eyes full of fire as you nodded. “Greedy thing”

He stops you only long enough to tug your shorts around your thighs, trapping your legs together as you knelt between his legs. His pants are gaping open, underwear pushed down in a way that only makes his erection seem larger, laying angry and hot across his stomach.

He hisses when you kiss the weeping tip, hips twisting under your tongue as your back curls. He’s intimidatingly large, thick and heavy in your grip as you aim him towards your mouth, taking a deep breath of determination as Mr. Hotchner sits up further, giving his arms space to roam across your back, the curve of your waist, the band of your soaked underwear.

You spend time learning the curves of him you couldn’t in the dark, the thick pulsing vein that makes him twitch when you kiss it, the salty taste of him that bursts on your tongue like firecrackers, the deep scent of him, raw and primal as you coat his cock with saliva, relishing each spasm of his hips, the curve of his stomach beneath your hand.

He swears when you take him in your mouth, deep and hoarse as he cradles the back of your neck, his grip strong, not forcing you but guiding your mouth, encouraging you to take him deeper, deep enough to choke as he pulls your underwear to the side, thick fingers probing soaked folds as you half cough around his length, saliva dribbling from your lips.

“Messy” he hums, his hand cracking across your ass as you take him deep again, relishing the way his body reacts, his breath catches as the sting of his palm crackles through your system. There’s no finesse in his touch, smearing your slick across your folds, catching your clit and running fingers upward, spreading wetness around the tight ring of your ass. It makes you moan against him, encouraging him further, pressing his fingers against the muscle, enough to feel the pressure, make it want to relax.

“Fuck, sweetheart that feels so good, look up at me, just like that, you’re so pretty” His voice is ruined, gravelly and low as his hand squeezes your neck, the fingers swirling between your cheeks making your back arch, the innate desire to push back against his fingers, feel the taboo stretch of him.

“You want it sweet girl?” he asked, knowing you could do nothing but moan around his length in reply, your lips stretched obscenely over him, spit pooling in his lap “Dirty girl, greedy messy little thing, fuck, come here”

He pulls you off him, trails of saliva clinging to his skin smearing across your stomach as he pulls you for a bruising kiss, biting at your swollen lips as he hauls you in his lap, running your drenched folds across his cock in a way that makes your back arch, as the tip of his finger breaches your back entrance.

Your hips move without permission, sliding back and forth across his length and working his finger deeper, the burn of it setting fire to your insides as your brain shut down, simply stopped working as you chased pleasure, the rasp of his teeth under your jaw, the filth he was mumbling as you rode him, skin sweating and breath unsteady.

You came with a cry and tremble, his mouth covering yours with a smile as you shook above him, his hand an anchor on your hip as you gushed in his lap, legs stretched wide to straddle him, half sideways on the bed, the comforter askew.

“God damn it you’re beautiful. Lay down right here, good girl”

He spread himself between your thighs, fingers pressing deep inside your ass as he bit the sensitive skin, laved over teeth marks he had left the night before, tugging your underwear further to the side. He stared, enough to make a distant part of your mind want to squirm, the wet squelch of his fingers sounding obscene in the silence as he slowly scissored you open.

“Don’t you fucking dare” he growled, one hand planted on your thigh, his thumb tracing the swollen lips of your cunt as he leaned forward enough for his nose to brush your clit, making you jolt. He breathed. Deep and long, tapering with a groan as he pressed his forehead to your lower abdomen, the soft tendrils of his hair tickling your fevered skin. “You smell like fucking candy, how do you smell like candy”

He pulled your underwear off, repositioning his fingers to spread you wider, encouraging you to lift your hips to his waiting mouth, licking you from hole to clit as though he was drowning, drinking you down as you thrashed against the bed. He alternated, sucking your clit as he curled his fingers inside your ass, scissoring you open only to dart his tongue to lick the swollen rim of you, grunting words you couldn’t hear to vibrate against you. You were leaking, surely dripping down his palm at this point, the slick of your thighs as you tried to keep your eyes open, your vision blurring at the edges as you watched him rut his hips against the bedspread.

“Can I have you? Here?” the question was asked with a twist of his fingers, enough for the stretch to make you cry out. You wanted him, wanted that burn to lick fire through your lungs as he sucked your clit between his teeth, the sting making you jump.

“Roll over angel”

You complied on limbs that felt like jelly, your body a mass of nothing but thrumming pleasure, anticipation and apprehension thrumming through you, making your heart pound. He pulled your hips up, your face pressed into a soft comforter that smelled exactly like him and waited, feeling his hands travel up the backs of your thighs, pressing and squeezing and spreading you open, his thumbs holding you in front of his gaze.

He spat on you, the wet smack of it against your ass as he pressed his thumb inside, hooking it to stretch you open as his mouth latched on to your clit, the pressure intense as it built inside your belly, a coil winding tighter as your fingers scrabbled for purchase on the bed, a grip on reality, anything. You could hear pleading, begging in a high note before you realized it was you, half mad and screaming for release as his other fingers began to work your clit, fast circles as his teeth bit into the meat of your ass, still red and stinging from his hand.

“You going to cum for me baby, with me in your ass?”

“Yes, yes, fuck, please, please”

“Beg me, I want to hear it, say Mr. Hotchner, please make me cum while you stretch my tight little ass open”

“Mr. – Mr. Hotchner” it was half a choked sob before you were coming, hard. Stars burst behind your eyes as your whole body convulsed, rocking back further into him as he lapped your release like a wild animal.

You heard his pants hit the floor, were dimly aware of the shifting weight as he flicked the clasp of your bra, reached to grab a handful of your breast, his body covering yours as he licked behind your ear.

“The fuck are you doing to me little one. Driving me fucking crazy” it was lucid, half a question you thought he might want answered, before he slid his cock through your folds and entered you with a deep thrust.

God you’d never get enough of the stretch of him. You had convinced yourself this morning that it was the novelty, your first experience with someone of his magnitude, the stretch of your walls, the feeling that he truly was rearranging your insides, making space for himself inside you. His grip turned to iron on your hip, the low moan that made you tighten around him as he rocked against you, giving you time to adjust.

You were going to fucking ruin him. That was the only thought in his head as he held himself deep inside you. It was a struggle not to come, not to fill you to the brim immediately, just to watch it leak out, have you split open and dripping him. You were so tiny, so fucking delicate that he was scared he was going to break you, simply snap you in two with the grip he held, his eyes focused on the pearls of your spine as you arched your back for him, spreading open that gorgeous ass for his vision.

You’d never be out of his system, not with those quiet little whimpers, the way your eyes glaze over when you come, the way your cunt grips him like a goddamn vice, like he has to carve room for himself inside you. He can feel you clenching around him, watches the liquid suck of your pussy as he pulls out slowly, rocking his hips back in just to hear that quiet little whine that makes his cock feel like steel.

He can’t help but breach your ass again, thumbing you open in the same rhythm, listening to the way your cries turn guttural, as though he’s robbing you of all that delicate femininity, stealing it as if it were something to covet. You’re so wet, he can hear it, the slap of his thighs against the back of his own, and the change in angle makes it obscene, messy and loud as he pulls himself free of you, grips hard at the base of his cock to stop from coming, his breathing deep and ragged.

“Slow” is all you manage, his cock heavy against your ass as he breaches you with just the tip. You’re writhing for it, reaching back to hold yourself open in invitation and Aaron thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen

“I’ve got you sweet girl” he murmurs, spitting again to join the mess, smearing it across your ass as his fingers find your clit, rubbing in slow circles in time with the inch-by-inch penetration.

It burns. Like a wildfire through your skin, it makes you sizzle, the aching press as he waits for your body to yield to him, each gentle thrust making your breath catch. It feels so dirty, so brazen to have your nails dig into your own skin, pull yourself apart for him as you feel him, every thick ridge and vein stretch you open, your lungs cramping from the force of it.

When he’s seated fully inside you, the room goes quiet. Enough for you to hear the struggle on his own exhale, his touch turning whisper soft against your clit as he holds you steady.

“Move” you plead, “Move, it’s so good”

The universe splits apart at the seams. Slow and gentle turns rabid and fast the more you beg him for it, his fingers turning inward, pressing deep inside your cunt as he fucks your ass, holding your shoulder to slam into you from behind, the creak of mattress and bedsprings only adding to the symphony of noises.

There’s pressure. Deep in your stomach, curling tight around your spine as he hooks his fingers in a spot that makes you cry out, your body locking down against his as he hauls you upright.

“I found it huh?” He laughs in your ear “Right there baby? This what you needed? What you came here for, to get stuffed so full of me you can’t speak? I can feel you baby, you’re going to cum, aren’t you? My perfect messy girl going to cum with my cock deep in her ass? What if I did this hmm?”

His hand becomes a blur, hammering that same spot in time with his thrusts as you thrash against him, slamming your hips back into him in time, the curl in your spine sinking fangs in as he tilts your head against his shoulder, opening your throat enough to scream.

“You gonna squirt for me? I can feel it, let go little girl, let it happen, make a fucking mess all over me you sloppy gorgeous thing”

It’s like a balloon, stretching past it’s limit as it bursts, all of a sudden through your system. Everything shatters as you feel the gush of liquid around his hand, pressed out by the force of it, your limbs jerking erratically, the sound of it hitting your thighs, soaking the bed as you cry out something unintelligible.

Mr. Hotchner grabs your jaw, forces you to focus on your hand as he pulls it in front of you, his rhythm never faltering as he watches you drip from his fingers in the sunlight. You can hear him, bringing his fingers to his mouth, the sound of him licking your essence of you before sharing that salt tang flavor in a kiss.

“You’re a dream baby, you’re a fucking dream, like you were made for me, made to be mine, you want to be mine sweet girl? Do you?”

“Yes, god, Mr. Hotchner, please”

He let out a sound like a wounded animal, rearing behind you as you fell forward, feeling him slip free as he held you open, the sound of his fist on flesh, rough and fast as you heard him take deep, heaving gulps of air, smearing the head of his cock around both of your holes, dripping wet with your own release.

He came like a tragedy, long and slow, hot spatters of cum marking your ass, your cunt, your thighs as he groaned your name and thanks in equal measure, squeezing the last drops onto your skin, deep cool air inflating his lungs as he trailed his hands through your combined mess. His fingers probed both entrances, scooping his release inside you as you took shaking breaths of your own, your limbs suddenly feeling like jelly, unable to hold you upright anymore.

He collapsed next to you, the damp bedspread beneath you both as sunlight filtered through his bedroom window, his hands reaching for you, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed your forehead, possessive and ferocious as you took heaving breaths of air.

It was the middle of the day. It was just after lunchtime, and you had just been fucked within an inch of your life by your best friend’s father. What words could you possibly say? Could you try and pull it back? Was there any point in trying to make off like it was a one-time thing, that this would now fade to memory as something to remember fondly on a lonely night with a vibrator? You needed to leave. But leaving meant wanting to leave.

It felt like a lie. So, you said nothing, allowing Mr. Hotchner to kiss you breathless, the smile that curved your lips feeling like an admission as you messed his hair up further with a giggle. He was just greying at the temples, salt strands through thick hair as his large hands framed your face to kiss your nose.

“You need a shower” you said finally, trailing your fingers across his chest with a sigh.

“So do you” he said with a grin. “C’mon”

“There’s no way my legs work” you protested, content somehow to stay in this place, the thick smell of sex settling over you like a blanket, mixed with his cologne and the softness of his mattress, almost enough to lull you to sleep.

“Not a problem” he said with a wink.

Of course, he had a bench in his shower. Of course, it was a rain shower that he warmed to the perfect temperature, his arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he was unwilling to let you go. He let you relax against the warm tile, bringing soap that smelt like him to a lather on your skin.

He washed you like you were precious, kneading muscles across your shoulders with reverence. He placed a soft kiss against your palm, moving to massage the knuckles of each finger. You watched as he washed your legs, hands smoothing over your calves as his brow creased slightly.

“Was it too much?” he asked quietly, the words almost drowned by the water.

“Perfect” you said, dragging his lips to yours for a kiss “It was perfect”

That felt like the truth.

He left you on steadier legs drying your hair, you heard a flurry in the room behind you as he changed sheets, throwing the ruined ones in the hamper before replacing them with ones that looked just as soft. When you emerged, he was in sweatpants, holding a glass of cold water for you to drink. He tipped the bottom at you to watch you finish it. Wrapped in a towel you looked around for your clothes, not having paid attention to where they landed in the frenzy of his affection.

“What are you doing?” he asked, tilting his head as you pulled your shorts free from under his dresser.

“Um” You started. How did you explain you were leaving? How do you say, hey thanks for ruining me for any future sexual encounters, but don’t worry, I understand this can never happen again, and you don’t have to tell me not to bring it up, I already understand you’re going to wake up and feel like it was a mistake, even though I won’t.

He pulled you against his body and you caught a glimpse of you together in the mirror, wrapped in his arms as he kissed the top of your head, tugging at the towel until it dropped to the floor. He pulled a shirt from a nearby drawer and put it on you. You swam in it, falling off your shoulder as it hung past your thighs. But it was worn, and soft and smelled like him.

Mr. Hotchner led you to the bed you had so recently ruined, laying back before tugging you on top of him, straddling his waist as he pulled you to lay on his chest. Soft and solid beneath you as you felt the rise of his breathing, the sheets and covers he pulled over both of you as he encouraged you to rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Sleep, sweet girl” he murmured, pressing lips against your forehead.

“But…” You started, sleep already stalking you as the comfort of his presence, the possessive way he curled his hands around your body, slipped them beneath his own shirt to roam against your back. “Mr. Hotchner…”

“Aaron” he said. “Call me Aaron”