Chapter Text
“7:30,” Hotch repeated somewhere behind him.
Derek waved a hand in acknowledgement but didn’t turn around.
He was wiped. All he wanted was sleep. He muttered ‘good night’ to Reid and Prentiss as they peeled off to their rooms.
Against his better judgment, he collapsed onto the bed fully dressed. He sighed and opened his phone.
He found himself swiping mindlessly on Tinder before he even realized he opened the app. He closed it again. He wouldn’t be up to getting up and going anywhere and being charming even if he did get a match.
He opened Grindr on autopilot, like he needed to know there were options besides sleep – even if he didn’t expect much from Omaha.
Three profiles too close to be anywhere but in the same building – God bless airport hotels. He took a look. He told himself it was just for a laugh, but the heat in his gut didn’t lie. It’d been a few weeks. If he could get it tonight, he was for sure taking it.
The first two profiles were all wrong, but the final one looked more promising.
Vers. Discreet. Safe play only. The photo was stupid but still hot – like most app photos, he supposed – a grayscale of a slender, shirt-clad torso, sleeves rolled to the elbows, three buttons open, hair peeking out, tie hanging loose. Older, but probably not old.
He clicked through to send a message.
‘Up for it?’
He didn’t specify. The guy was marked online, and being 30 feet away he’d probably checked Derek’s profile out already. If not, he could take a look.
It was nearly 11:30. No immediate response. He wrenched himself to his feet and got ready for bed slowly, one eye on his infuriatingly quiet phone.
He was used to getting what he wanted – at least here, where it was easy. Older men, like the ones he tended to go for on the apps, usually tripped all over themselves at the chance to sleep with someone who looked like Derek. That ‘abh1966’ didn’t was, if not upsetting, exactly, then at least a little puzzling.
*
By late afternoon, they had a solid suspect, and split up to cover his work and home. Derek and Hotch struck out at the home address, and drove back listening over the radio as the rest of the team made the arrest across town.
Hotch didn’t get out of the SUV after parking, and Derek paused with his hand on the handle.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Hotch said.
He didn’t say anything more, but it was clear he wanted to. Derek waited him out.
“Listen,” Hotch said. “This is none of my business.”
Derek frowned. “What isn’t?”
Hotch hesitated.
“Your tattoos are… very distinctive.”
Derek stopped breathing for a second, then forced air through his nose.
“From a safety standpoint, on the apps, you might be better served with photos that obscure them a little more,” Hotch continued, eyes on the steering wheel. “That’s all.”
Morgan’s stomach dropped, a cold knot tightening under his ribs. He swallowed hard, throat dry.
“I…”
Hotch had seen it. All of it. Hotch was the weird username 30 feet away. He’d messaged Hotch.
“Yeah,” he finally choked out between dead-feeling lips.
Hotch only nodded, then slipped out of the car without another word.
Derek didn’t move. Not yet. He wasn’t sure where to look, or how to move.
*
The worst part was, Hotch acted so fucking normal. Calm. Steady. Perfectly, infuriatingly Hotch. Nothing like a man who’d been propositioned by a subordinate on an app neither of them had any business being on.
In retrospect, it should have been obvious. Was obvious. The username screamed identifying details, things Derek knew but had been too eager for a hookup to parse: initials, birth year. The photo was clearly him – the shirt, the hairy arms, that goddamn tie. Hotch wouldn’t use a shirtless photo on an app and risk being asked about his scars.
The thought struck him at midnight, four days later. He bolted upright in bed.
It should have been obvious. Did Hotch think that he–? Derek buried his face in his hands. Fuck.
He fumbled for his phone, and opened the texting app.
‘I didn’t realize it was you when I messaged on the app. Just to be clear.’
He stared at the text, hesitating. He deleted it.
‘Just to clarify – I never realized that was you the other night.’
He frowned. Deleted it again.
‘About Omaha – I didn’t realize that was you until you said something. I wouldn’t have messaged if I did.’
He didn’t press send, just dropped the phone on the bed next to him. He didn’t know which version sounded less pathetic.
He didn’t sleep.
*
Normally, Derek could get through a single day without sleep just fine, but Friday, he could feel the looks on the back of his neck early in the day. He pretended not to notice.
When Hotch knocked on his office door that afternoon, he steeled himself for management disguised as care, but Hotch just asked for a second opinion on a consult, sitting down and accepting one of Derek’s drafts to read while Derek looked at his. He stole a glance at Hotch after a couple of minutes. Quiet concentration, total professionalism. How the fuck did he do it?
Derek made a couple of notes in the margin and handed the file back. Hotch took it with a nod.
“Thanks, Morgan.”
Before he could get up, Derek dove in. “Listen, Hotch.”
He took a breath and tried to re-weigh the dozens of drafts of this conversation he’d gone through in his head all night.
“I just want to be clear,” he said. “That I didn’t realize that was you. In Omaha. I know how this sounds, but it’s true.”
He exhaled, hard.
“I would never have –” He paused. “It was incredibly inappropriate, and if I’d even for a second thought it was you, I obviously never would have opened that line of communication.”
His voice lowered. “I’m mortified. As you can probably tell,” he added, sheepishly.
Hotch’s eyes narrowed, but didn’t say anything for several long moments.
“You really didn’t realize?” he asked.
“I didn’t.”
The quiet stretched between them until Derek wasn’t sure he could take it much longer.
“Please say something, man,” he said, forcing a nervous laugh.
There was something just under the surface of Hotch’s stony gaze that he couldn’t quite grasp. What gave him pause?
“Sorry,” Hotch said, in a rush, blinking and getting up quickly. “There’s no need to be mortified. No reason we can’t just forget about it.”
It was like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Like he was…
Fuck it. He had nothing to lose now.
Hotch was almost at the door when Derek found his voice again.
“What if I don’t want to?” he asked, a shot in the dark and not at the same time.
Hotch froze with his hand on the handle, then turned around. “What?”
“You looked at my bio,” Derek said, smoothing his voice out like honey. “Did you like it?”
It was far from his smoothest line, but he wasn’t sure how else to play it. This might be crazy, but he hadn’t imagined the look in Hotch’s eyes. Now, though, Hotch’s frown deepened.
“Excuse me?”
“Come on, Hotch. There’s only one reason to be on that app. You were looking, so was I. So, did you like what you saw?”
“Morgan.”
It was meant to be a warning, but Derek could hear Hotch’s heart wasn’t in it, not entirely.
He was around the desk in two steps.
“I’m just saying,” he murmured. “We could make things easier for both of us. Safer, too.”
For a split second he thought he was getting through. Hotch looked at him, something unreadable flickering in his eyes—then it was gone.
“That’s enough,” he said, voice quiet but heavy with authority.
Derek stayed in the same spot long after Hotch closed the door behind him.
*
“Another body,” he sighed, turning around to go get his gun out of the safe.
It wasn’t a question, because Hotch wouldn’t be at his hotel room door at 9:45 if it wasn’t serious.
“No,” Hotch said, stopping Derek in his tracks.
He looked back, brows raised.
“I was hoping you had a minute.”
Derek blinked, caught somewhere between confused and cautious. “Sure.”
He made a ‘come in’-gesture and Hotch shut the door behind him.
He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, still in his shirtsleeves. His tie was loosened, a button open at his collar. He was doing that thing with his hands, touching his fingertips to the pads of his thumbs. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger, pinky. Index finger, middle finger, ring finger, pinky. He was nervous.
“I’ve been thinking,” Hotch said, finally.
Derek’s mouth went dry. That could mean anything, coming from Hotch. Usually something complicated.
“You might be right,” Hotch continued. “That it would make things easier if we…”
He trailed off, uncertain. His fingers stuttered against each other. Derek swallowed. He wasn’t sure if he’d been hoping for this or dreading it for the last week, but Hotch saying ‘you might be right’ set off a flicker of satisfaction in his gut.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Hotch said quietly, barely more than a breath.
Derek stepped closer, and Hotch mirrored his move. It wasn’t a big room. Up close to Hotch, Derek could smell the remnants of the day: The greasy takeout they’d had for dinner, sweat, a faint trace of his aftershave.
“This might be a terrible idea,” Hotch admitted, voice not entirely steady.
His eyes were dark, pupils dilated and fixed on Derek, his breaths shallow.
“It might,” Derek said. “Let’s find out.”
The first kiss was clumsy, teeth bumping, breathless laughter caught between them. The second hit like a live wire: Hotch fisting Derek’s shirt, Derek’s fingers digging into the back of his neck.
He gripped Hotch’s hip with the other hand, feeling the hard line of bone through fabric. Hotch held on to Derek’s arms like he was drowning.
When they broke apart, Derek leaned his forehead against Hotch’s and tightened his grip.
“Doesn’t feel like a terrible idea,” he breathed.
“No,” Hotch murmured shakily. “It doesn’t.” He leaned back in.
Derek ran his fingers into Hotch’s hair, and pulled gently to the side, pressing kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He scraped skin with his teeth and was immediately rewarded with an appreciative moan, then nosed down Hotch’s open collar.
He paused, just long enough to glance up, catch Hotch’s gaze.
“Let’s get this off you.”
Hotch nodded breathlessly, and let Derek unbutton his shirt and pull his tie over his head.
“You know, I could tie your hands with this. Keep you right where I want you,” Derek murmured as he tossed it on the desk.
Hotch smirked, but his breath stuttered tellingly.
He reached for the hem of Derek’s henley and pushed it upwards. When it dropped to the floor, he ran his fingers down along Derek’s chest.
“You like what you see?” Derek teased.
That earned him a poke in the abs, which made him laugh. He reached for Hotch’s undershirt.
“Let me see you, huh?”
Hotch’s smile faded, and for a second Derek thought he was about to stop him, but he didn’t move and let Derek peel the shirt off.
Derek slid the fabric off Hotch’s shoulders, knuckles grazing warm skin. The faint smell of aftershave and clean sweat hit him as he tugged the undershirt free. Hotch’s breath hitched when Derek’s fingers brushed his skin.
“I…” Hotch’s voice was hoarse. “If we really do this I won’t miss having to explain this over and over.”
He gestured vaguely towards his chest. Derek was already looking – automatically searching for the scars he knew were there. Faded now, but still standing out against pale skin. Derek’s thumb traced one, slow and deliberate.
“They ever hurt?”
“No. Some of them feel tight, sometimes.”
Derek didn’t answer. When Hotch spoke again, he was smiling – Derek could hear it.
“So scar talk is a mood killer even with a profiler. Noted.”
Derek looked up. “Oh, it takes significantly more than that to kill my mood.”
He pulled Hotch in by the hips and kissed him, slow and deep, enough to let him feel the fire building in Derek’s gut.
“Scars don’t scare me, Hotch,” he whispered. “They’re just proof we’ve lived.”
Hotch didn’t answer. He just kissed him again – hungry, breathless.
Derek walked them backward toward the bed without breaking contact. He knew exactly how this should go.
When Hotch sank down onto the mattress, Derek went with him, mouths still locked. He slid down and mouthed at Hotch’s chest. Hotch hissed when Derek grazed a nipple with his teeth, and Derek smiled against his skin.
“Good?” he asked, looking up.
Hotch’s eyes were dark with want. “Yeah.”
Popping open the button on Hotch’s slacks felt like crossing the Rubicon, but Hotch didn’t flinch. Derek pressed open-mouthed kisses down Hotch’s stomach, stopping demurely at the waistband.
Hotch made a sound, low and sharp, when Derek hooked his fingers in and pulled down his pants and underwear in one smooth motion. Derek wasn’t sure if it was arousal or amusement.
“That’s impressive,” Hotch murmured once it all dropped to the floor. A sparkle of amusement made his eyes bright.
Derek stood and made quick work of his own pants. He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s smile faded and his whispered ‘God’.
“He was definitely involved in the process,” Derek quipped. He grinned. “Scared?”
Hotch quirked an eyebrow and smiled wryly. “Enthusiastic.”
“Excellent.”
Derek grabbed what he needed from his bag and climbed back onto the bed, kissing Hotch through his moan when they were finally skin to skin, pressed close and burning.
“What do you want, Aaron?” he murmured softly, lips brushing Hotch’s ear before he dragged his tongue along the shell.
“I want you to fuck me,” Hotch gasped, shifting beneath him. “Derek,” he added.
Derek leaned up, resting a hand on Hotch’s chest. He looked him in the eye.
“Yeah?”
Hotch swallowed. “Yeah.”
Derek felt his grin go wide. “I can do that.”
He kissed the crease of Hotch’s thigh, then swallowed him down without warning. Hotch arched with a strangled sound, one hand clenching the back of Derek’s head like he couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away. He moaned when Derek grasped his hips and held them still.
“God,” Hotch gasped. “You need to – I’m not gonna last.”
Derek pulled away, letting Hotch’s cock slip from his mouth with an obscene pop.
“It’s been a while, huh?”
Hotch didn’t answer, just panted, head thrown back.
“That’s right,” Derek murmured, reaching for the lube. “Gonna take real good care of you.”
Derek slid slick fingers down and back, pausing when Hotch inhaled sharply.
“There?” he asked, voice low.
He already knew the answer.
“Right there,” Hotch murmured.
Derek drew slow, gentle circles. When Hotch’s hips jerked, he smiled – then eased a single knuckle in.
Hotch breathed. “How long are you going to be a tease?”
“Until you beg,” Derek said.
He felt as much as he heard Hotch’s sharp inhale.
“I don’t beg,” Hotch said. His voice quavered, just barely.
“Then it’s going to be a real long night, man,” Derek said, smiling against the skin on the inside of Hotch’s thigh.
He pushed in slow, holding still until Hotch shifted restlessly beneath him, then added another finger. Hotch made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan.
“Good,” Derek breathed, smiling when it made Hotch’s hips twitch.
Derek curled his fingers, pressing slow and deliberate until Hotch jolted hard, a broken sound tearing out of his chest.
“That’s it,” Derek murmured, heat curling low in his belly at the way Hotch’s hips rocked helplessly against his hand. “Right there.”
Then, he pressed against the spot again, more firmly. Hotch groaned, bucking against Derek’s hold.
“You like that, Aaron? I could make you come just like this if I wanted,” Derek said.
He added a third finger while Hotch was loose and panting for breath.
“You know what you have to do,” Derek continued, scissoring his fingers, skimming across Hotch’s prostate.
Hotch’s groan sounded torn from his chest by force.
“Just one little word,” Derek whispered. “You can do it.”
Derek curled his fingers again, slow and merciless, pressing right where he knew it would undo him. Hotch’s breath caught sharply and then a low, helpless moan slipped out.
“Say it,” Derek whispered, curling his fingers just enough to make Hotch’s hips jerk. “Tell me what you need.”
Hotch shook his head, chest heaving. Derek pressed harder, lips brushing his ear.
“Say it, Aaron.”
A broken noise escaped Hotch, half groan, half moan.
“Fuck me,” he whispered. Then, almost too quiet to hear: “Please.”
“There you go,” Derek said, pressing a kiss to the skin behind Hotch’s ear.
He pulled his fingers out slowly, enjoying the involuntary gasp Hotch made at the loss, and reached back for the condom.
He smoothed it on slowly, intensely aware that Hotch was watching through lidded eyes.
“Still enthusiastic?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.
Hotch tilted his head and quirked a small smile. “You’re very confident.”
“You don’t think I’ve got reason to be?”
The smile grew. “Prove it.”
“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that,” Derek said, smiling sharp and hungry.
He pushed Hotch’s thighs further apart and settled between them. Derek groaned low in his throat as he pushed in, the tight, burning heat nearly undid him. He had to grit his teeth to hold back. Hotch’s fingers clawed at his shoulder, leaving crescents.
“Fuck, Aaron… you feel so good.”
When he was all the way inside, he leaned in and kissed the gasping breaths from Hotch’s mouth.
“Okay?” he murmured against his lips.
“I –“ Hotch breathed, voice strained. “I need a minute.”
His hand was twisted in the sheet, knuckles white.
Derek held still. He hummed against Hotch’s skin, nuzzling his cheek, kissing his jaw, nipping gently at his earlobe. It took a few minutes, then Hotch’s grip on his shoulder loosened, just a little.
“I’m good,” he said eventually. His voice was deceptively calm, but he was still grasping the sheet like it was a lifeline.
Derek looked at his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He shifted his hips, then drew back slowly. He pulled almost all the way out, then pushed back in with one long, smooth stroke that forced a ragged groan from Hotch.
“Still good?” Derek asked.
Hotch nodded, eyes screwed shut, lips pressed tight.
“Need a minute?”
Hotch opened his eyes. “I’m good. You’re –“ He breathed. “I can take it,” he said.
Derek exhaled shakily, then repeated the movement, setting an unrelenting rhythm. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, broken only by Hotch’s gasps, sharp and raw. Derek kissed the corner of his mouth between thrusts, a messy, hungry press of lips as his pace quickened.
Hotch gripped Derek’s arms tight, increasingly unsuccessful in biting back a series of groans and whimpers as Derek kept working him higher.
When they started sounding more like sobs, wet and rough, Derek slowed down. The sound twisted in Derek’s chest. This wasn’t just arousal – it was need, raw and aching.
He caught his breath and licked the damp skin on Hotch’s throat.
“Shit, you love this, don’t you?” he murmured hotly into Hotch’s ear.
Hotch groaned.
“Yeah, you do,” Derek said anyway, mouth going on autopilot. “Feel me filling you up, baby?”
The word slipped out unfiltered. Derek’s gut clenched – first with doubt, then with raw heat when Hotch twitched under him. He grinned.
“You like that too, huh? Baby?”
He thrust hard, fast, a few times, just for the satisfaction of seeing Hotch’s head loll back and his mouth fall open in a silent shout.
“I’m gonna fuck you so good you can’t remember your name. Only mine.”
Hotch opened his eyes, meeting Derek’s eyes.
“Do it,” he said, like a dare.
Derek grinned, finding an angle that made Hotch moan with every thrust.
“God, you feel so good. So tight, perfect for me.”
He didn’t stop to examine where the words were coming from, only registering that Hotch’s features twisted in pleasure and let his mouth run with it.
“You were made for this, man, made to take my fucking cock.”
Hotch groaned from deep in his chest. “Fuck, Derek.”
“That’s right, baby, say my name,” Derek heard himself say.
It made his gut curl hotly, and he wondered where this possessive streak came from. He swallowed against the wave of arousal that came with it.
He pushed harder, wringing a fresh wave of near sobs from Hotch and driving himself towards the edge.
“You’re mine right now, aren’t you? Say it.”
“God,” Hotch groaned. “Yours, fuck, I’m —“
“You close?”
“Fuck, yes, Derek, please, I —“
“I’ve got you, baby,” Derek murmured, breathless. “I’ll take care of you.”
He shifted his weight and reached between them, jerking Hotch with sure fingers. Hotch broke with a choked cry, his whole body arching tight as he spilled between them. Derek felt him clench hard around his cock and swore, fighting to keep control as the heat rushed up his spine.
He couldn’t hold back, couldn’t even try. He buried his face against Hotch’s neck and groaned low, hips stuttering as he spilled inside him. His breath came in harsh, uneven gasps against Hotch’s skin, the world narrowing to heat, scent, and the faint tremor in Hotch’s thighs.
It took him a long moment to get his bearings, his muscles heavy and loose. He eased out carefully, hand steady on Hotch’s hip, then flopped onto his back with a shaky exhale.
“Shit,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. He didn’t trust himself to look at Hotch yet, not with his pulse still hammering in his throat. “That was…” He trailed off, couldn’t find a word that covered the experience.
“Yeah,” Hotch agreed breathlessly anyway.
Derek licked his lips, tried to think of something else to say, and couldn’t find anything. He took care of the condom instead, tying it up and going to toss it.
When he came back from the bathroom Hotch hadn’t moved.
“Did I kill you?”
Hotch opened his eyes and quirked a smile. “You certainly tried.”
Derek smiled back and tossed Hotch the washcloth he’d picked up. “I’m gonna hit the shower.”
Hotch nodded. “I’ll head out.”
The room was empty when he came out. Sheets rumpled. Air still warm. Hotch’s scent lingered faintly in the space where he’d been.