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The sweet scent filled Spencer with comfort, his eyes fell shut for just a second, welcoming the familiar sensation. By now it was part of his daily routine, he’d visit the shop after a tiring day at the BAU, desperate for another cup of sweet coffee and finally some silence to read his new book at peace.
No matter how many people would visit the shop throughout the day the scent of her perfume would still linger in the air as he’d step inside, way past after midnight. Deep down it felt as if he was coming home, stepping into his apartment, a place where he could truly be himself without worrying about other people and their opinions. She made him feel safe, accepted.
He had met the owner of the shop 47 days ago, it had been cold outside, way too cold for his linking, leaving Spencer shivering and bothered, searching for a drink to warm himself up.
(Y/n)’s cafe had been within reach, welcoming him in as the snow danced in the air. Forever he would remember the smile she had worn on her lips, the twinkling of her (y/e/c) eyes as he stumbled upon his words, distracted by her beauty.
“A-a black coffee, with,” another deep breath spilled from his chapped lips, gaze switching between hers and his trembling hands, she wouldn’t need to be a profiler to tell that he was nervous, “with a lot of sugar, please.”
A lot? Spencer cursed himself for giving her such a vague order, though the second he tasted the coffee he was sure that she was the one. Nobody had ever managed to prepare such a delicious coffee.
“Hey, I’m sorry, but I’m closing.” Her soft voice rang in his ears, his heart pounded in his ribcage, “of course, I’m sorry.” Spencer packed his bag, jaw clenched, he wanted to ask for her name, for her number, already imagining their first date.
He had always been impatient, way too impatient for his own good. “I’m (y/n).” As if she could read his thoughts she had mumbled her name, reaching her hand out for him to take.
His mind screamed for him to take a step back, calculating the amount of germs on her hand, overthinking the small gesture. Though his heart encouraged him to take her hand, to feel her soft, warm skin against his. Her scent would stick to him for days.
“Spencer,” his hand tingled, he never wanted to let go of her, wanted to pull her down besides him, talking all through the night, getting to know the calm, sweet girl.
That night had been the beginning of a wonderful routine, by now she’d wait for him, even way past her closing time. Patiently she’d prepare his coffee as he would enter the shop, looking as exhausted as ever. (Y/n) would pull him in for a hug, still not knowing anything about his fear of germs, she’d sit down next to him, with her own cup of coffee and a book she was currently reading.
There were nights where they’d barely share a word, basking in each other’s company, there was no need for words, no need for mindless smalltalk, they just needed each other. But there were nights where Spencer would ramble about facts and statistics, wooing her without even noticing, too oblivious to notice her burning cheeks, the way she’d fiddle with her book, hands trembling from the rapid beating of her heart.
“Here you go, sugar with a few drops of coffee,” his laughter reverberated through the empty shop, her fingers brushed along his, tightly grasping the hot cup. It had been a tiring case, forcing Spencer to follow the team to another city, hundreds of miles away from (y/n) and their small bubble of happiness.
“I’ve missed you.” She nudged his side with her shoulder, shuffling closer to the tall, awkward man. “I’m sorry, it took longer than expected to find the unsub.” Last week he had finally told her about his profession. Instantly (y/n) had been hooked, asking one question after another, excited to hear more about Spencer Reid’s job at the FBI.
“I can’t give you any details.” His voice trembled, growing more quiet with every passing moment, scared that he’d share any classified information. “Don’t worry about it, tell me about your team.”
She had her knees bent, arms slung around them, pressing her thighs closer against her chest. (Y/n) found herself getting lost in his eyes, she had fallen for him from the first day on, there had been something about Spencer that had lured her in, leaving her breathless as she’d think about him.
“You’re not even listening.” Spencer chuckled, taking another sip off his coffee, wondering if he was boring her with his stories and details, he had never been an expert in talking to women, especially those who were as gorgeous as (y/n).
“Here,” (y/n) pressed a small piece of paper into his palm, she had scribbled her phone number onto it days ago, “if you want to, we could meet up outside of here.” She didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, though she couldn’t stop thinking about him, she needed to be selfish every now and then, taking her chances with the handsome man.
Before Spencer could stop himself a few words stumbled out of him, “we could go on a date now? If you’re not too tired.” A date? He wanted to row back, sure that he had just embarrassed himself, messing up his only chance of being with a woman that perfect. “Are you hungry? I could cook something for us?” She rose from her seat, “Give me a few minutes.”
No words left him as he watched her, his mind was working on overdrive, calculating all the different outcomes of this very evening. He felt excited, though strangely calm, as if they had been on numerous dates before, nothing to worry about. “Ready?” (Y/n) took his hand, fingers interlaced, welcoming the warm sensation, skin littered with goosebumps.
The chilly december air engulfed them, instinctively he pulled her closer, smiling down at the woman he had dreamt about for the past nights. He could only focus on her scent, the sweet perfume that had stuck to him from the first day on. Spencer tried to keep quiet, knowing that as soon as he’d part his lips random facts and statistics would leave him, showering her with confusing information.
“Here we are,” she pulled him into her apartment, giving Spencer some space to explore her four walls, studying every little detail, engraving it into his memory. “Dr. who?” He pointed towards a small mug she had left on her table, long forgotten from a hectic morning, “mhm, I’m quite the fan.”
He was sure that he’d never love somebody as much as he loved her.
Spencer could only smile at her, following (y/n) into her small kitchen. “You up for some pasta?” She didn’t feel his intense gaze on her, didn’t notice how his eyes wandered up and down her frame, body screaming to tug her close, to finally kiss her like he had done too many times to count in his dreams. “Spencer?” Her voice ripped him out of his trance, cheeks blushing as he mumbled a small “yes”, helping (y/n) with the ingredients.
Soft music was filling the apartment, they bumped into one another every now and then, bodies tingling in excitement. She couldn’t force her eyes off him, she had been waiting for this moment for way too long, couldn’t back down now. Wordlessly she pulled him closer, small of her back pressed against her kitchen island, arms finding their way around his neck, fingers toying with the hairs at the nape of his neck.
His breath hitched in his chest, hands firmly placed on her hips, not giving her a chance to move away from him. There never had been a moment before where his mind would shut down, but now complete silence echoed in his head, no worries, no numbers clouding his thoughts, just the pure imagination of her.
Both moved at the same time, lips meeting halfway. All those cliché, romantic novels finally made sense to Spencer. He had never understood the metaphor of “fireworks going off in the distance” but now, with his lips moving in sync with (y/n)’s he could feel all the fireworks, could almost smell the smoke, could almost hear the explosions in the dark sky as their bodies melted together.
(Y/n) clung to him, a squeal bubbled out of her as he picked her up and placed her on top of the island, legs wrapped around his waist. The kiss grew more heated, more passionate, emotions got shared, feelings both didn’t find the proper words to. Spencer gave her a few seconds to catch her breath, lips exploring her throat, hands disappearing underneath her shirt, tracing her soft skin.
“Bedroom,” her hoarse voice left his length twitching, uncomfortably pressed against the zipper of his trousers, “What about the pasta?” Her laugh rumbled through him, having an addicting effect to it, chuckles bubbled out of him, forehead falling against hers. “Fuck the pasta.”
Seconds later they found themselves in her dark bedroom, bodies pressed against one another, skin heating up with every shared kiss. “Let me touch you, please.” Spencer toyed with the buttons of her jeans, waiting for (y/n) to give him any sign, any reassurance that she truly wanted this. “Do it Spencer, touch me.”
The nervous feeling seemed to let go of him, encouraging him to go on. His hands hastily undressed her, ripping the layers of clothes off her body, eyes fixated on her dripping core, the pulsing clit that ached for his touch.
“Tell me, if I hurt you,” She couldn’t reply, mouth ripped open by a powerful moan, he had his lips wrapped around her clit, sucking her skin dry, cleaning her arousal off her. Needy whimpers filled the room, she was sure that she’d cum way too soon, though she couldn’t overthink her movements, mind tracing back to his touch.
His loose curls ticked her inner thighs, he had his mesmerizing eyes closed, indulging in her taste. His tongue brushed through her folds, filling her body with a new found confidence, fingers tangled in his dark hair, guiding him through the dark. “Fuck, you’re so good at this.” Her pants spurred him on, thumb adding more pressure to her clit, teasing the pulsing bundle of nerves.
“I got you love, cum for me.” She arched her back off the bed, moaning his name as a powerful wave of lust, of adrenaline and love crashed upon her, pulling her underwater, letting her drown in Spencer and his touch.
“You’re so beautiful,” He tried to ignore his rock hard bulge, wanting to pleasure her with everything he had, selfless as always. “Spencer,” his name rolled off her tongue, followed by a deep exhaled, “fuck me.”
He studied her for a moment, profiling the panting girl, though the hungry look in her eyes gave him the final push, roughly pinning her back down onto the mattress. “You feel that?” Spencer ground his bulge against her naked folds, arousal staining his trousers, “This is what you do to me.”
A rough kiss was shared between them, he let go of her, giving her trembling hands the opportunity to undress him. She traced along his chest, down to his throbbing bulge, pumping him a few times before he slapped her hand away. “Condom?” (Y/n) connected their lips once again, “I’m on the pill, I trust you.” An animalistic growl slipped out of him, hand finding her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes roll back into her head.
“You’re mine (y/n), I hope you know that.” With one forceful thrust he ripped her open, walls painfully trying to adjust to his length, fluttering around him. She felt tight, tighter than any woman he had ever been with.
Like a drug she forced herself into his system, leaving him hungry for more, Spencer was sure that he’d never be able to let go of her, to forget about her, he didn’t need to have an eidetic memory to remember all of (y/n).
His hips met hers with every bruising thrust of him, hand leaving marks on her throat, a souvenir for lonely nights. “Tell me how it feels, tell me (y/n).” With her eyes squeezed shut, with her fingernails pierced into his shoulders she whispered a small “so good”, not able to say anything else. Her lungs were burning, just as her walls, struggling to keep going with his rough ways.
It- he felt too good to be true, everything Spencer did left her hungry for more, obsessed with the pain that flooded through her veins. Small, satisfying grunts left him, “I’m so close.” She could feel her orgasm slowly creeping closer, leaving her sobbing and moaning, more powerful than any orgasm had ever been. “Touch yourself, love.” His gaze followed her hands, thumb rubbing her clit, in sync with the speed of his ferocious thrusts.
“Scream my name,” his breath crashed against her lips, his speed began to falter, he’d follow her down the edge, would release himself into her heat any moment now. “Oh fuck Spencer,” her body shook, mind hazy from the lust that left her breathless. Her bed moved with his thrusts, crashing against the wall as he gave it one last push, heat filling her, prolonging her orgasm.
“I’m really glad you came into my shop that day,” she turned towards him, giggling as Spencer pulled (y/n) into his sweaty chest, arms wrapped around her, “me too, I wouldn’t change it for the world.”