Title: Hay mas tiempo que vida
By: theimpressionis
Pairing: Hotch/Reid
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Rating: NC-17
Summary: This was inspired by slashgirls comment that Reid giving Hotch a tie for his birthday wouldn't really lead to anywhere. With her kind permission, I stole her idea and this is what happened. My Reid may seem a bit OOC, but I just don't see him as the blushing virgin fanon has created.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warning: kink

***

I should be spending my birthday with my family. Instead I'm sitting in a dingy Mexican hotel room, flipping through channels. Footage for El dia de Muertos is being replaced by American movies, incomprehensively dubbed in spanish. After spending the weekend chasing a man who prayed upon women, my mood is dark. And getting darker; after 30, birthdays become emotionally complicated affairs- the sense of your own impending end gets just a little bit closer. Exhaustion and loneliness are turning this pity party into a full-scale brood. I'm used to American-style denial: enough money and you can pretend that you will never, ever die. Down here though, it isn't so easy. Coming down smack in the middle of a festival for honouring the dead isn't helping either. I can't help wondering if I'm wasting my life in this job, just what my 35 years have amounted to. "Have you been living Hotch? Or are you just sleepwalking through it all?"

I'm interupted by a polite knock at my door. It wouldn't be Gideon, chances are he knows exactly what I'm doing right now. It's probably nothing, but I'm wary when I move to the door. The little peephole reveals

Spencer Reid standing patiently in front of my door. I open it, reluctant at having company.

"Hi."

"Hi,um, hi," he's shifting, uncertain why I haven't invited him in. He's also carrying a slim package, the contents of which have me curious enough to push aside my antisocial tendencies and motion him inside.

Reid is looking around like he's never seen a hotel room before, though I'm sure our rooms are identical in their scoured faded style. I'm expecting him to take the battered chair, but he sits on the bed.

"So. It's your birthday."

He would know, probably has the entire teams statistics memorized.

"And I wanted to get you something." Reid holds out the package. So earnest.

I accept the package, curiosity getting the better of me. Dark amusement at the wrapping: some kind of religious pamphlets. All in indecipherable Spanish, save one line; No tengas miedo. I had seen it on a giant billboard in Mexico City, bright neon letters beneath a sad-eyed Jesus, hanging from the cross. Elle had translated it for me: Do not be afraid.

Reid's hasty "I didn't want to wrap it in newspaper" tells me my exhaustion is letting my amusment show.

I unwrap the gift, soft scent of ink and marigolds on the paper.

Oh.

It's a tie, which could be comic but it's the most beautiful tie I've ever seen. Pure silk and a gorgeous shade of green. What's more, I can't help thinking of what happened the last time someone gave me a tie like this. My wife never buys me ties. I keep that tie hidden at the bottom of my sock drawer- I can't even take it out of the drawer and hope to walk properly.

Reid is a profiler. He knows to look for certain signs. The stillness the body takes before it springs, how to read to careful set of guilt in shoulders, the way eyes tend to shift up and to the right when retrieving a memory. I wonder how he has decided to interpret my sudden stillness. My careful breathing, though I'm sure my face is beginning to flush.

I tell myself there was nothing suggestive intended in the gift. Reid gently takes the tie from me and holds it up to my jaw.

"Green is a good colour for you," he announces.

Is it me or is he sitting too close? He has lost his ever present cardigan and his hair is sneaking into his eyes.

"You should try it on," smiling a little.

I swallow.

"Ties are usually one size fits all," I manage.

The grin broadens. "Here," he leans over and slips the tie under my collar, knots it neatly. It gets just a little harder to breath, even though the tie is loose around my neck.

"It's just too bad. That you have to be away from your family on your birthday."

I blink. Reality, there you are.

I miss my son. But it's not really home that I'm missing.

"I miss my son," I admit.

"And your wife." It sounds like a challenge.

Do not be afraid.

I say nothing. How silence can be acquiesce. Women here learn that the hard way.

Reid leans over and kisses my mouth. Lightly at first, then a tongue slips out to trace my lower lip. He kisses with the same intensity he does everything else. I wouldn't be surprised if he read a book. . .

Oh, thats. Nipping at my mouth and I have to let him in, have to let him in my mouth.

And here it is, here's life, on the day of the dead. Messy hot alive.

"Have you been living Hotch? have you been... and that's it enough to make me pull him close, kiss him hard. He kisses me right back, deep and dirty, sucking, Jesus, sucking on my tongue. I slip my hands under his shirt, anxious for skin.

Reid pushes me on my back, pulls on his tie to guide me to his beautiful mouth. I moan and he looks intrigued, tightens the tie.

I can't stop the moan and he grins suddenly, feral.

"Green *is* a good colour on you," a tone I would never expected to have heard from Reid.

Suddenly he gets up.

"Where is your tie?"

Oh. Oh, wow.

I can only point to the closet, can't even defend myself at his chuckle at finding two ties hanging inside.

He's really going to.

He's still grinning a bit when he returns with both ties. I should probably be embarrassed, but I like having a fresh tie for the flight home, my own personal case closed.

Reid grins at me, sweet and promising at once. He kisses me deep and messy. We slip out of our clothes.

Taking our time and a little awkward lying down. I don't care as long as he keeps kissing me.

I spread my legs to let him slip between, wanting him closer.

"Mmm. Stay just like that," he murmurs.

Grins at my moan of displeasure when he pulls away and off the bed, taking my ties with him. I gratified to see that he is hard. He spreads my legs farther apart, fits them just inside the bedposts. The bed has an old fashioned metal frame, the kind orphans and TB patients have in old movies. I have never been so happy to have such and anarchaic bed.

Quick knots-Reid would have made a hell of a boy scout- and my ankels are firmly attached to the metal frame.

Reid is back, pulling my arms over my head, crossing them at the wrists and leans them on the bedpost.

Leans back to admire his handiwork.

"I could tell you to leave them there, and you would, wouldn't you?"

I have to close my eyes at that, the tone of his voice. Do not be afraid.

Cool silk slips around my wrists, Reid has decided to oblige me after all. Firm knots just tight enough to really feel (later, there will be thin bands of red left behind, fading far too fast for my taste) without pinching.

Reid slides back down my body and hovers, as if for a kiss. Ghost of lips, a quick swipe of tongue. I arch up, needing more but he pulls back, eyes glittering. Hot breath on my face.

"What do you like?"

Almost kisses on my jaw my neck. Lips brush a nipple and I can't help the shudder. The barest touches. I would probably get more friction if he ran the ties over my skin. And that thought is enough to make me pant. The idea of him teasing me, slow torture of silk.

"Please."

"Aaron." The use of my given name breaks through my lust.

"What do you want?" M

"Just. Anything. Please."

More barely there kisses on my shoulders. One long fingered hand skims down my side... Oh please.

Ghosts over my ribs an settles to stroke over a hip.

He nips at my lips, soothes with a swipe of tongue.

The hand dips lower, skimming my public bone.

God he probably *wrote* a book.

"Reid! Fuck I."

"Anything, just tell me. . ." scrape of short nails on my sensitive skin.

"God, just. Fuck me!"

Reid stills. For a moment I think I've ruined everything. I take a breath to speak when Reid bites me suddenly, hard, on the shoulder. I jerk, startled. He is already soohing the pain with his tongue.

Reid leans back. Licking his lips, he's blinking, flushed.

"Alright. We'll need something. . ."he looks uncertain for the first time.

"I have- there's a tube of Lubriderm in my shave kit."

I gesture with my head to the nightstand. Reid's eyes widen but he retrieves the tube. He swallows and slides a pillow under by legs, spread wide, the benefit of being tied up. Pop of the lid and he's slicking up his fingers. Slips a hand behind my balls and he's slicking my hole in slow strokes, slowly slipping a finger in. I shudder- I wish he would hurry up! He strokes my hip and goes *slower* if that's possible.

Two fingers, finally. It's been a while, but there's no need for this kind of teasing.

Slow delicious teasing.

"Goddamit Reid!" I clench my teeth; remind myself I have coworkers in adjacent rooms.

Finally he pulls his fingers out and I can't help the whimper.

"Hotch?"

"Yes, yes just-and he's sliding in, balls deep and suddenly goes very, very still.

I'm panting, clutching at his shoulder, trying to get him to move. He takes the hint and starts thrusting.

OH so good so, I missed this, oh.

I'm pretty sure those noises are coming from me and I don't even care.

So close. I'm so close and Reid is too, his thrusts have speeded up, becoming more erratic. He's moaning now, low hungry sounds. He stills suddenly, a sharp cry as he comes. The look on his face- his head thrown back, the beautiful line of his throat exposed. And I'm joining him, so hard I can't make a sound.

I'm dimly aware of Reid untying my wrists, rubbing them to get the circulation going.

"Hotch?"

Jesus.

My feet are free- when did that happen?

"Hotch?" concern this time.

"Yeah, hi." I limply wave at him and he smiles, a rare happy smile. He wipes us up and lies down beside me.

I touch his hair, a little surprised when he settles against me.

"Thank you."

I mean it.

We're leaving tommorow- no in a few hours. We're both quiet, but it's comfortable, more comfortable than it should be.

"You know I-I have to go Ok?" I'm surprised to find him smiling. I pause uncertain.

"Hey, it's alright," softly, still smiling.

"I'll see you tommorow, Ok?" He is up pulling his pants on, reaching for his shirt.

So yeah, maybe. No going back.

"Ok. Yeah tommorow."

Another smile and he's gone.

I get up and start to comb out the bite mark he left in my shoulder. Something I haven't done since university.

Do not be afraid.

Finito

The title is a Mexica prover: there is more time than life

***

Next story in series - The Shortest Distance Between Two Points is Completely Irrational.