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It had happened before, of course. Finding an unsub who'd been part of law enforcement, even part of a case task force, and it had always left a particularly sour taste in Morgan's mouth. It was more than just a personal affront, though of course that was part of it; Morgan had dedicated his life to this, to keeping the evil in the world at bay. It was more than a career. To see someone walk the same path as a complete falsehood sickened him. But worse than that, it felt like they'd failed the world. They'd let an unsub stand at their side and work next to them, allowed someone dangerous to be in a position of power. They'd been complacent in the unsub's sickness, fed him the power he craved, gave him a feeling of superiority, invincibility. They'd pushed aside and ignored tell-tale signs of obsession and insecurity. They'd let themselves be played.
Morgan had thought there was something strange about the officer who'd brought them the tip about a possible surviving victim, but he'd pushed it aside. They were looking for an unsub with six confirmed kills, and the latest missing were a female detective and her assistant. They were nearing the 72 hour mark after the abduction, with the knowledge that once the unsub had a new pair of victims the current victims would be killed, mutilated and dumped. He'd let himself be distracted, blinded by the panic of time running out, by crime scene photos and autopsy reports with words like ligatures and multiple rape. With Prentiss helping JJ with the detective's family and Hotch and Rossi already out in the field, it was easy to grab Reid and run out the door.
The house where the supposed survivor was supposed to live appeared empty, and no-one answered their knock. Morgan relayed as much to Garcia over the headset, reporting details for her to add to her data as he lead the way around the house, gun drawn and at ready. A sharp sting to his shoulder made him stop mid sentence, and time seemed to freeze as he stared down at the two little red feathered darts embedded in his body.
Tranq darts.
Morgan reacted on impulse, springing forwards to knock Reid to the ground even as he felt the drug burn through his veins. He was vaguely aware of Reid calling his name, of Garcia's panicked voice telling him she was sending backup, then everything around him went dark.
~~
It has been easy to label their unsub as a sexual sadist. Victims were always found in pairs, arranged in some macabre tableau of a love scene: hands clasped or limbs tangled. The first pair had been relatively unmarked apart from bruises on the man and abrasions left by restraints around various places of the woman's body: wrists, biceps, throat, chest, thighs, ankles. The second and third pairs had been grotesquely mutilated, every inch of flesh carved with what turned out to be rather horrible poetry about love and death and puppets. Probably the unsub's own poetry, Rossi had theorized. Likely the unsub hid the wrongfulness of his actions behind the narcissistic guise of art in his own mind. The women had been raped repeatedly, but the only DNA found had belonged to the male victims, and the carvings on the male's chests had always been the same. "I did not love enough to save; the shadow lover comes to embrace the weak."
Morgan woke up in a fog.
He felt coldness seeping into his skin from the hard floor beneath him, and he forced himself to keep his eyes closed, to keep still, to fight through the haziness and remember what had happened. He remembered the darts, suddenly, and the traces of Ketamine in the victim's systems. He remembered the tip from the junior detective, remembered going to check with only Reid to help....
The unsub.
He forced down the rush of panic, called on his training and discipline to remain calm and still where he laid on the floor. To take in his surroundings. He was topless but still wore his slacks, and he wasn't restrained or blindfolded. He must be in some kind of a cell. Light filtered through his closed eyelids - cold. Florescent bulbs then. Could he break one and use it as a weapon? The place smelled antiseptic, like bleach and cleaning products. Overly clean. He listened, but heard nothing but white noise; the hum of distant machinery, the soft whir of a fan. And breath, soft and hitched, like someone trying not to panic.
Finally he opened his eyes.
Reid was strung up in the middle of the room, naked and facing away from him, restrained by chains that had been locked around his wrists and arms and chest and waist and thighs, and he hung limply from them as they stretched from the ceiling. Morgan forced away another burst of panic, forced himself to stay still, examine the room. Small, narrow, metal, like some kind of unused meat locker or an old cargo container. The doors at the end of the room were shut fast, perhaps barred and locked from the other side. Light filtered down from panels in the ceiling that are bolted shut, but he filed the idea of reaching the light bulbs away for further exploration. The chains holding Reid up were attached to winches that had been welded to the sides and ceilings of the container, but he couldn't see how to release them. Small squares of the walls had been cut away and replaced with grills in three places.
Cameras, Morgan thought. This unsub will want to watch everything.
Reid jerked tense suddenly, chains clanking as he struggled against them, choked breath turning to desperate, keening cries. Morgan was on his feet in a moment, ducking around the chains to face Reid, catching hold of his shoulders. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here. Just take a deep breath and calm down." He tried not to look at the chains where they cut into Reid's skin, red and raw. How many times had Reid struggled against these bonds? Getting up so quickly had left him lightheaded and dizzy, but he tried to focus his attention on Reid. "Are you okay? Has he hurt you?"
Reid gave a little shake of his head, skin pale and eyes shadowed, and let out a shuddering breath. "I didn't know you were here. I thought he'd killed you."
Morgan shook his head. "He won't kill us yet. He needs both of us to fulfill his fantasy."
Reid stiffened; obviously the thought of being the unsub's next victim was one that hadn't crossed his mind. Or more likely it was a thought that he'd been trying very hard to deny. "No. No, we can't be his next victims, we don't fit the victimology."
"Neither did Detective Byron and Officer Granville. They knew each other." Victimology had been fairly specific. A brunette woman with a powerful career, an average man. Seemingly unlinked until the detective and her assistant. Before then the victims had been kidnapped separately; the women's kidnappings had been stalked and planned and carefully orchestrated, whereas the men had seemed to be a matter of convenience.
"But I don't fit the victimology," Reid shot back, voice more than a little desperate. "He can't deviate to this extent, he can't -"
"Shhh...." Morgan pressed the pads of his fingers to Reid's lips softly, briefly. "Don't think about that for now. Tell me what you remember."
Reid drew a shuddering breath. "I remember you knocking me to the ground. You were talking to Garcia. She had our location, I think she put in a call for backup but I passed out before I heard anything else. He must have hit us both with some kind of tranquilizer..."
"I think so. I saw the darts. How long do you think we were out?"
"With the average dose of Ketamine in a tranquilizer dart that size... five, maybe six hours. Probably long enough for him to get rid of whoever he had here before."
Derek nodded, trying not to think about their missing detective. "Do you remember how we got here?"
Reid's eyebrows knit, and he gave a little helpless shake of his head. "No. Nothing but waking up here with the winches tightening, being strung up like this...."
Morgan heard the clang of metal on metal, and focused on the wall behind where he'd been laying. A rough door had been cut out of the side of the container, replaced by a grill with a metal door behind it. The door itself opened to reveal a standard issue Smith & Wesson, cocked and leveled at them through the grate. The officer was the same, but in plainclothes now. "Agent Morgan. Step back against the far wall. You do as I say and both of you will live."
Morgan took a step back, keeping his hands raised even as he began to size up the room, calculating as the grate swung open. The chains that strung Reid from the ceiling and walls would make it difficult for him to maneuver, and he couldn't even hope to rush the man. Not with Reid in the way, a helpless target. He wet his lips. "Look... it was Baxter, right? Baxter - "
"Don't even try it." He swung the aim of the pistol from Reid to Morgan, eyes hard. "I know who you are and I know what you do. Don't think you can outwit me. Everything I do is masterminded, everything is perfectly planned."
"Of course it is." Reid's voice was a little rough, and Morgan could hear the forced calm. "You're an artist, you plan everything meticulously. It all has to be perfect. So tell us what you need us to do."
Baxter's stance immediately relaxed, and he stepped closer to Reid, though the gun and his gaze never left Morgan. "Yes. Yes, of course you would realize that, wouldn't you? The FBI's little pet genius. I knew this wasn't a mistake. I thought about just killing you both, you know. You're not the right fit for my art. But you're such a pretty man, Doctor Reid."
Baxter reached out to stroke his fingers down Reid's spine, and Morgan watched Reid's eyes clench shut, watched the shudder of revulsion that ran through him. "Get your hands off of him!"
"I don't think you're in the position to be making any kind of demands, Agent Morgan. And don't come any closer. If I don't get what I want from you I'll have no qualms about killing you like I did the others, FBI or not. They won't link me to your deaths, anyway. You weren't anywhere close to finding me, your so-called team of experts are all just as stupid as you are."
Morgan forced down the rage, letting his hands press to the cold metal of the main container doors behind him, fixed firmly shut. "You won't get away with this."
"No? I think I will. You've grossly underestimated me, after all. You thought my first were... what did you call it, crude? That I hadn't been..." he stopped and gave a harsh, barked laugh. ...confident enough? I've run circles around you. The first puppeteer wouldn't do what I asked, even when my beautiful marionette begged and begged. He wasn't man enough. He couldn't keep it up. So I made good on my threat."
Puppeteer? Morgan glanced up at the chains, at the loops locked tightly around Reid's limbs. Marionette.
"Doctor Reid is quite striking, isn't he? It's what made me think twice, you know. I'd thought about just killing you, letting the shock of your loss tear your team apart long enough for me to safely make my escape. But he made me think. As much beauty as there is in perfection, there's even more in imperfection, isn't there? All great works of art. Like Mona Lisa's smile. The Japanese call it... wabi-sabi. So maybe imperfection is the key to finding what I've been looking for all along. Maybe he'll be my perfect marionette."
Dead bodies in a gross tableau of romance, skin etched in love songs. Morgan swallowed down a wave of nausea and fury as the reality of the situation set in. "I won't touch him, you sick son of a bitch! You can't make me touch him!"
Reid had been hanging still and limp from the chains, but his head jerked up at Morgan's words. "Morgan...."
"Is that what you want from us?" Morgan strode forward, only stopping when the pistol leveled at him. "You're not getting it. If that's what you want me to do then you might as well just kill me now."
"Morgan -" Reid choked on his name, and Baxter's eyes narrowed.
"Let me put this simply enough that even you can understand, Agent Morgan. You are here to puppeteer my Marionette. If you won't take your pleasure of him then I'll kill you and do it myself before I kill him. Get it?"
"I get it. And I'm sure as hell not doing it."
"Don't tell me you don't want to," Baxter shot back, lips curled up into a sneer. "Don't tell me you haven't watched this tight little ass under fine wool trousers and wanted to tap it."
Morgan held his gaze, rage burning hot through his veins. "Nothing you can say will justify what you're asking me to do. I won't do it."
"You really want to leave him at my mercy, alone? You really want to die so badly?"
"If that's what I have to do to prevent it then fucking put a bullet between my eyes!"
"Morgan!" Reid's desperate plea cut through the argument, voice trembling. "Derek... please. Please."
Morgan stepped back until his shoulders hit the metal doors behind him, which didn't budge. "Spence, I can't."
"You can. Please. Just - just displace, just - please don't leave me alone with him." Reid looked up to meet his gaze, eyes desperate. "Please."
Morgan closed his eyes for a moment, trying to force himself to calm, to think rationally. "Even if I do it he's going to kill us anyway."
"Perhaps," Baxter replied, and Morgan didn't have to look to hear the sneer on his face. "Perhaps not. Why would I get rid of the perfect piece of art?"
Morgan tried not to think about what would be involved in completing the artwork while they were both alive. "But...."
"He won't kill us now." Reid's voice still shook, though Derek could hear him trying to steady it. "Not this time. Derek...."
Morgan forced himself to calm, to take a deep breath and think without anger. Reid was asking for time, and he was right. The longer they stayed alive, the better the chance was that the team would track them. They'd logged Baxter's name as bringing in the tip. Surely the team would be able to trace them from there. He met Baxter's gaze. "All right. But I'm doing it for him, not for you. And I'm doing it my way."
Baxter gave a little shrug, stepping back towards the door, pistol still leveled at Morgan. "That's what they've all said. As long as there is sodomy, I don't really care what you do. But don't think you can fake it. I'll be watching. You have one hour." He reached behind him to open the grill, then stepped out, locking it and the outer door behind him.
Morgan watched him leave, letting out a long breath and stepping closer to Reid. "Spence..."
"Don't say you're sorry." Reid cut him off, voice soft and small. "I asked for this. Thank you."
"The lesser of two evils? You didn't ask for this. Don't thank me."
Reid gave a little shake of his head. "No. Thank you for not leaving me with him. I'm so sorry, Derek..."
"Shhh..." He stepped closer, slipping his arms around Reid's waist, hands stroking over chilled skin and chain, closing his eyes as he pressed his face to Reid's curls. "We'll get through this. We will." He had to believe it, knowing Reid would hear any uncertainty in his voice. He inhaled deeply of the scent of Reid's hair, holding him closer, nuzzling the corner of his jaw. "We'll be okay."
Reid shivered at the sensation. "...what are you doing?"
Morgan gave a soft, helpless laugh. "You think I could let myself fuck you dry just like that? I just... just trust me. Just follow my lead. Let me take care of this, it'll be okay."
Reid sighed softly, tilting his head back as Morgan began to trail soft kisses down the side of his neck. "... this wasn't exactly how I imagined you and I together."
Being close to Reid, embracing Reid, tasting his skin, and then hearing those words sent a pulse of desire down Morgan's spine despite the situation. He let out a soft breath, slipping one hand up into Reid's hair. "You thought about us together?"
Reid tensed for a moment, as if just realizing what he'd said, then relaxed again, nuzzling Derek's temple, just a little. "Scientifically. It's just part of profiling, isn't it? Thinking about what kind of lover a person would be?"
Morgan placed an open mouthed kiss to the crook of Reid's neck, worrying lightly at the crook and smiling at the soft gasp it drew from Reid's mouth. "Scientifically?"
"Purely," Reid managed to reply, breath growing more laboured, whimpering as Morgan caught his earlobe between his teeth, nibbling gently. "Derek...."
"May I kiss you, baby boy?" It was easier to focus on Reid than to think about the situation. To displace, to pretend this was some other time and place. To imagine that Reid had somehow come to him willingly. He was unprepared for Reid to turn his head to catch Derek's mouth with his own, tentative and trembling. For a moment he resisted; all he could think was that Reid had responded to his request just to make it easier on him, that this kiss was as forced as everything else would be. Then he made himself relax and take Reid at his word, kissing him slowly, soft and warm. He needed to pretend - no, believe - that this was real. For Reid's sake.
He let himself kiss Reid like he'd always wanted to, long and slow, building gradually with little teasing flicks of the tongue until Reid's lips parted to his with a soft whimper. Then it was easier to lose himself, focusing not the cold, bright lights or the roughness of the chains that his fingers brushed against as he smoothed them over Reid's skin, but on warmth and sensation and the soft, almost involuntary moan Reid made when Morgan's fingers stroked gently down his sides. It was easier to focus on the familiar dance of arousal and desire, on stoking a lover's passion to burn brightly with hands smoothing over skin, with the slide of his tongue against Reid's throat.
Morgan trailed warm kisses down Reid's chest, closing his eyes to the chain that bit angrily into his skin, pressing his lips to soft, pert nipples, nuzzling the spatter of fine hair that made him seem even more boyish and fragile than when he was clothed. Then he slipped to his knees, hands smoothing over Reid's hips and thighs as he licked a warm stripe up the underside of his half-hard cock. It was a relief to be able to coax Reid to full hardness with his lips and tongue, sucking on him gently and feeling him harden, hearing Reid's little gasped moans of pleasure.
"Derek, I - I don't think I can come like this, I - "
"Shhh...." Morgan let his breath tease his lover's erection before taking it in his mouth again, lips sliding down his shaft until the head of his cock nudged the back of his throat. Then he pulled back again, pressing a warm kiss to his head. "Just try to relax for me, all right? Displace. Just think about me. Just think about how this feels."
The chains held Reid tightly, thighs spread, barely allowing him purchase on the floor. Still, it didn't take long before Reid was gasping and arching up against his mouth, straining up onto his tiptoes as if to beg for more sensation. Morgan let himself indulge, sucking at him hungrily, hands cupping and massaging Reid's tight, firm ass. When he pulled back, pressing a warm kiss to Reid's hip, Reid gave a little helpless whimper. "Derek...."
He stood, pressing close and catching Reid's mouth again in a hungry kiss, forcing his mind away from reality. "Do you trust me?"
"You know I trust you with my life," Reid breathed in reply, shivering against him.
Morgan gave a little nod in reply, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling away and stepping around the chains. He slipped out of his slacks and undershorts, pressing himself against Reid's back and trailing warm kisses up his neck. Smoothing his arms around Reid's waist, he curled his fingers around his cock and started to stroke him slowly, skin slick with his own saliva. He knew Reid could feel how hard he was, feel his cock pressed against his ass, and he gave a low groan as Reid shifted back against him, pressing as close as his bindings would allow.
"I really do think you're beautiful," he murmured, working his fingers faster, stroking him more firmly. "I always have, Spence. This wasn't how I imagined us, either." He closed his mouth over the crook of Reid's neck, sucking gently, worrying the skin with his teeth and drinking in Reid's reactions.
"Derek, I - I can't - " Reid's words were gasped and desperate, body shaking even as he arched back into the warmth of his embrace. "Please, I can't - "
"Shh... " Morgan nosed aside Reid's curls to nuzzle behind his ear, pressing soft kisses to his skin. "It's all right, baby boy. I'm here, won't let anything happen to you. Just focus on me, just listen to my voice. Just listen to me, trust me. I need you to come for me, Spence. It'll make this easier for both of us, you know it will. Come on, sweetheart. I've got you."
Reid's cry was almost broken as he came, pulsing in Morgan's grip and spilling slick in his fingers. Morgan pressed warm, reassuring kisses to his throat and the corner of his jaw, forcing himself to believe that Reid's sobbing gasps for breath were from pleasure and not fear. "There's my boy," he murmured, needing to speak, to reassure himself with the words as much as Reid. "That's perfect, just what I needed. I'm going to prep you now, all right? Think you can relax for me, baby?"
Reid managed a little nod, not speaking, and Morgan scooped the remainder of Reid's seed from his stomach and onto his fingers, stroking the slick liquid over the head of his own cock before pressing a finger against Reid's ass, massaging gently, carefully working it inside. It wasn't ideal, and far less lubricant than he'd prefer, but it would do the trick. He tried not to focus on the way Reid tensed around him and the little pained gasps that escaped his lips, working his fingers inside him in careful thrusts.
Reid had wrenched his wrists around in the chains so that he could grab onto them, hands white-knuckled, but his voice was surprisingly steady when he spoke. "That's enough. I'm good. Fuck me."
"I'm so sorry," Morgan murmured as he did as Reid asked, rocking up into that tight heat in slow thrusts, his arms wrapped around Reid's waist. He closed his eyes, breath catching as he pressed deeper. Reid's body was hot and tight and fucking amazing, and despite the guilt and disgust that curled in his stomach he couldn't help but feel pleasure. "Oh god, I'm sorry."
"Shhh... Reid's head tilted back a little, barring more of his throat to Morgan's breathless kisses. "It's okay. I'm okay. Wanted this... just not like this." A breathless, broken laugh shivered through him, cut off with a sharp gasp as Morgan rocked harder into him. "Oh god, Derek...."
Morgan couldn't bring himself to speak, couldn't do anything but focus on the press of his hips to Reid's ass, on each slow thrust, letting pleasure build. He let Reid's words wash over him, hitched and breathless but real, let his soft encouragements assuage the guilt enough to sustain desire. It let him forget the situation, just for a moment, just long enough to let his passion pull him to the brink and over the edge, and for that brief moment of ecstasy everything around him ceased to matter; everything but Reid.
It was over too soon.
He pressed a trembling kiss to Reid's shoulder and eased away. He couldn't bring himself to look at him, guilt and disgust at his actions coming back in full force. Instead he staggered back until he hit the metal wall of the container, sinking down to the ground and wrapping his arms around his knees, hiding his face in them as he caught his breath. How much of that had been real, and how much had been a lie, forced for Morgan's own benefit? He could hear Reid's ragged breath, and his mind played the past few moments over and over again. The feel of Reid's cock against his palm, the broken sob he'd given as he came. The tight heat of his body, how good it felt....
"Derek?"
"I'm still here," he managed to reply, biting down a wave of revulsion, of anger at himself. "Not leaving you."
"Derek, I'm sorry." Reid's voice shook on the words, but for a moment all Morgan could do was stare at him in disbelief.
"What on earth do you have to be sorry for?"
"For asking you - for making you do this. In forced sex situations the guilt always weighs heaviest with the male partner, they feel - " Reid's voice broke on the word, unable to find solace even in facts. "It's not your fault."
Morgan forced himself to his feet, finding his undershorts on the floor and slipping back into them. "How can I not feel that this is my fault? God, you're shaking...."
"I'm just cold," Reid muttered in return, letting out a long sigh as Morgan wrapped his slacks around his shoulders as best he could with the chains. "Derek...."
He stayed close, still unable to step around the chains to look Reid in the face, but kept one hand on his back, fingertips just barely pressed to his skin. "Yeah?"
"How long do you think we have?"
Morgan shook his head. "Maybe a couple of days, if he remains satisfied with - with what we do. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Reid replied, swallowing hard. "We do what we have to. You know that, you know this is how we survive."
"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Morgan replied, glaring back at the door and wishing he could break it down, break every bone in the man's body.
"Derek?" Reid's voice was weaker now, shivering like the rest of him was.
Morgan gave a soft sigh and stepped closer, letting his palm press to Reid's skin. "Yeah, Spence?"
"Please - please stay close to me. I'm so cold...."
Derek gave a soft sigh and moved to press up against Reid's back again, wrapping his arms around his waist to hold him close. He closed his eyes as he pressed his face to his hair. "I'll get you out of this, baby boy. I promise."
He'd half expected some kind of immediate feedback from the unsub, but there was nothing. Nothing but that faint hum of machinery, of the fan, for what seemed like hours. Reid didn't speak, so Morgan just stayed like he'd asked, arms wrapped protectively around him, warming Reid with the heat of his body. When Hotch and Prentiss finally opened the door to the outside world he still didn't move until the bolt cutters came to cut Reid free.
~~~