Chapter Text
Your heart skipped as you made your way to your boss’s office. He’d asked to see you - not outright, but in a way that only you would hear him. “Wheels up in thirty,” he’d said, then made a side glance at you that lingered until he turned to walk out of the room. It was your secret signal. And so you did what you were told.
Hotch could have just asked if he could speak with you privately before boarding the plane, but that would have raised considerable concerns from the team. The group of profilers would’ve been able to deduce the nature of your relationship in less than an hour, and you and Hotch couldn’t have that. Not that they would treat you poorly or be upset; these people were like family to you. But the more people knew about the things you did in the dark, the more likely it was that the higher ups would find out. Your careers would be in flames.
Instead, you stuck to your secret meetings in private corners - a hint of a touch on the flights home, slipping into alleyways before the rest of the team would arrive on cases for a moment of intimacy, candlelit dinners at his house or yours, the shades drawn and the masks completely off. It was confidential and it was dangerous (and sometimes frustrating as hell), but it was worth it - just to be his. Even if you could only be his in the shadows.
You knocked on his office door and slipped inside, and there he was, waiting for you, his suit jacket off and sleeves rolled up to the elbows, exposing his toned forearms. He instantly pulled you flush against him by your tie, proving to you once again that Aaron Hotchner was not a patient man. The shades were already drawn and the team was packing - surely no one had seen you enter and no one would see you exit. You could relax for a moment into his grip, his lips trailing down the exposed skin of your button-up shirt, hands splayed across your back.
“Aaron -,” you gasped, and you felt him smirk against your neck. He knew exactly what he did to you, and he reveled in it. Your neck was already beginning to blush along with your cheeks, and Hotch pulled away slightly to admire the flush.
“You noticed the signal,” he said gruffly, “what a good boy.” Your breath caught and he chuckled low at the sound, leaning down to kiss your neck again quickly. “What’s your color, hmm?”
“Green,” you said instantly. He guided your back towards his desk and you took the hint, climbing onto it to perch on the edge, parting your legs slightly, but just barely not enough for him to fit. You wanted to be manhandled, and Aaron took the hint, roughly pushing your thighs apart with his strong hands, resting his fingers around your waist before slotting his lips against yours. You whined into the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He licked the seam of your lips and you granted him entrance, earning a groan from Aaron at the meeting of your tongues. It didn’t take long before you started to get hard.
You pulled away from each other with a filthy smack. “Somebody’s excited,” he said into your ear. “You want daddy to take care of it?” he asked melodically, ghosting his fingers up your sides. You nodded. He tilted your chin up gently, chocolate brown eyes meeting yours. “Use your words,” he said evenly.
“P-please touch me, sir.”
“Mm, and why should I do that, huh?”
You shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Because I’ve been a good boy, sir.” You sounded so wrecked already, and all you’d done was make out.
Aaron pretended to think for a moment. “I guess you have been a pretty good boy...” His voice trailed off as he leaned in to your neck again, lightly kissing just below your ear. “Can you stay quiet while I get you off? Or are you gonna make noise, like the dirty slut you are?”
Fuck, he was pulling out all the stops today. You could feel a patch of wetness pooling in your boxers, from just his words and anticipation alone. “I’ll be quiet, sir. I promise,” you begged. “Please touch me.”
He took a breath. “One sound, and I stop,” he said firmly. You nodded. He undid your belt and your jeans, finally freeing you from your boxers. Sure enough, you were incredibly hard, precum making a mess of the fabric. “Pretty cock hard and leaking after a few kisses,” he tutted. “You really are a whore.” Hotch spit into his palm and gripped your cock, starting to stroke you at a purposefully slow pace. You rested your head on his shoulder, eyes jammed shut, trying not to squirm or whine. You wanted to ask for him to hurry it up - wheels up in thirty after all - but you knew you weren’t allowed to make any noise, talking included. And Hotch wasn’t the kind of dom to be forgiving. He truly would forbid you from cumming if you broke his rules, and you couldn’t bear the thought of it. So you stayed silent.
He suddenly increased the pace, stroking you so fast you knew you wouldn’t last long. It took everything in you not to moan, your breathing a heavy pant, stomach starting to coil with the promise of your release. You turned and glanced at Aaron for permission and he looked back at you. “Not a sound,” he reiterated, swiping his thumb across the slit. You buried your face against his neck, biting the skin there to keep quiet. Your cock twitched in Hotch’s grasp and you felt a groan reverberate from his chest. “That’s it, Y/N. Cum for me,” he commanded, and you let go, cock twitching and sputtering cum across Aaron’s fist and arm. “Good boy,” he whispered, stroking you through your orgasm, while you sucked a hickey into the spot you’d been biting on his neck.
When you were finished, milked of cum and all aftershocks shivered out, you released his neck and tenderly licked the bruise you caused. “Thank you, sir. Thank you,” you rambled stupidly, lost in endorphins and dopamine. Hotch tucked you back into your jeans and you sat upright, catching your breath, swallowing hard when you realized what you’d done.
Oh shit.
The bruise was red and noticeable, above the collar of his shirt, blatantly obvious. He was oblivious, even as you cleaned up the mess you left on his hand with a few tissues, all the while staring nervously at the hickey. A look of confusion passed through Aaron’s face as he tried to figure out why your eyes looked so worried. Then he felt somewhat of a twinge on his neck.
His brow furrowed. He tugged his hand away from your grasp and pulled his phone out of his pocket, swiping open the camera app. His mouth fell open, fingers tracing over the mark you’d left. You sat frozen on the desk, terrified. He pocketed his phone, stared at the floor for a moment, then faced you with a look so sharp you were afraid you’d bleed. Your eyes were wide, hands fisted nervously in your lap. Finally he spoke.
“Come to my hotel room tonight. I’ll deal with you then.”
“Hotch, I - “
He shook his head and put up his hand to stop you. “I will deal with you tonight,” he said slowly. He threw on his brown pullover, zipping it up to conceal the hickey, swung his go-bag onto his shoulder, and left the room.
You were definitely in for it, and honestly? You couldn’t be more thrilled.