(5) ginger

Sitting on the couch in Hotch's living room, you can smell the lavender through the open window. He brings two cups of tea from the kitchen and sits down next to you. You see the lemon in it. Smiling, you take a sip.

"I see, you did your research." Ginger and lemon tea is your favorite.

Hotch looks at you: "Hell, yes!"

You put your cup on the table: "Did you guess?"

Guilty, he looks at his hands: "I looked in your fridge. And in your cupboards."

Your smile brightens: "That's really sweet, and also slightly creepy."

Hotch took off his suit jacket and tie after he greeted you outside. His dress shirt is silky against your skin. His body heat makes it feel like a ghost carefully touching you.

You put your head on his shoulder, he leans his cheek against it. It makes his breathing audibly calm down. Thinking about how touch starved he is, makes your heart ache.

"When was the last time you had a girlfriend?"

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes scanning your face.

You try to hide your sadness; you don't want to make him think that you are belittling him.

"I was married while I worked as a prosecutor."

"Oh, I didn't know that." You are furrow your eyebrows.

"It's not something I usually bring up during a date." He smiles a little.

Genuinely curios you ask: "Well, this isn't a date. What happened?"

"I- ehm." He breaks the eye contact.

You put your hand on his thigh: "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm just interested in my boyfriend's past."

It makes him smile that you use the term boyfriend.

He clears his throat: "She cheated." Aarons eyes find yours again.

"What the fuck?!" You exclaim. "Why the fuck would someone cheat on YOU?"

He gives you a small smile: "I didn't have much time for the relationship."

"Hm." You look into his eyes. "That's one of the reasons you were scared to get closer to me, isn't it? You think it's your fault that she cheated, and you didn't want to risk letting that happen again."

He exhales loudly: "Yeah."

Nodding, you tell him: "I understand. But please believe me that this will not happen again. At least not with me."

Hotch looks at you, there is that amazement again. It sends warmth into your chest.

He kisses your cheek: "Thanks for saying that."

"And since then? No relationships?"

He hesitates. "Well, some. But nothing really significant."

"I see." You take your tea again.

"What about you?"

You look at him over the rim of your cup. Squinting your eyes, you notice the insecurity on his face.

You answer his question: "Talking about significant: two years ago."

"Okay." Is all he replies.

You get into his lap and cup his face with your hands: "I really like you, Aaron. Can you believe that?"

"Sometimes." He blurts out.

"Oh?" You let go of his face.

Hotch clears his throat: "I…"

You lean forward and start to kiss his neck. He swallows hard. "I…" He tries again.

"Hmmm." You hum against his skin, slowly kissing down to his chest. "What, darling?"

You grind into his lap; his hands grab your hips.

"Never mind." He moans.

You feel his dick getting hard. Then you remember that you are still in the very visible living room. You get up and close the window: "We should go to the bedroom."

He immediately gets up. The outline of his dick shows through his dress pants. On the way to the bedroom, he takes off his shirt. Following his example, you take off your sweater.

This is the first time you properly see his bedroom. It has a cold vibe to it, being mostly grey and white.

You push him onto the bed, he props up on his elbows, looking at you expectantly. It sends shivers down your spine and heat starts to rise in your core. You really want to act out something that has been on your mind since you called Hotch Good Boy for the first time.

"I would like to try something." You straddle him.

His smiles at you: "Well, anything you tried with me so far was amazing…"

Your cheeks get a little red: "It's quite risky."

Hotch eyes widen: "What is it?" He sounds excited.

"You like it when I call you Good Boy, right?"

He nods his head frantically: "A lot."

"Okay, let's go from there." You bow down and kiss him.

His face as well as his hands that find your exposed lower back are warm. You look into his hazel eyes, scan his face, and memorize all the wrinkles and little scars. Fuck he looks good.

You roll off him. Laying on your back, you take off your pants. Hotch does the same, only wearing his boxers now.

For the first time, you allow him to fully lay on you: "Come here."

He almost puts his full weight on you, kissing your throat. When his ear is near you mouth you whisper: "Be a good boy and make mommy cum with your dick."

"Fuck!" He calls.

You're not sure if he liked that or not.

Hotch looks at your face. You raise an eyebrow, asking for his opinion.

His cheeks get red, and you feel his dick twitch against your leg.

"You're sending mixed signals right now." You tell him.

He laughs, resting his forehead on your chest.

"I- I am a little overwhelmed with how that made me feel."

"It's okay, I just wanted to try it." You assure him.

"No, that's not what I meant." He mumbles.

Oh. You grab his hair and make him look at you: "What do you mean?"

"Please, say it again." He pleads, cheeks still red.

You grab his neck with both hands and squeeze: "Be a good boy and make mommy cum with your dick."

His eyes sparkle, pupils widening. In seconds he takes off his and your boxers. His dick already rock-hard, he looks at you.

"I will not ask again." You tell him.

Hotch jerks his hips forwards, pounding into you. Your head falls back. Your hands grab the sheets. Hotch moans lasciviously.

He lets you adjust for a moment before he starts to fuck you. With unbelievable perfection he rolls his hips, hitting your g-spot and stretching your entrance with every thrust. He finds a steady rhythm and tirelessly plows into you.

When you open your eyes, you see him staring at your face. There is sweat on his forehead and his arms shake, having to support his full weight. You let him struggle a little longer, moaning loudly.

Then you push him onto his side, so that he can keep fucking you but use his right hand to stimulate your clit. It doesn't take much longer for your orgasm to rise. Your eyes roll back, and your walls start to tighten around him. Eagerly, he keeps his rhythm, working against the resistance.

When he starts to bite your chest, you let out a last loud moan and cum. He keeps fucking you but lets go of your clit to not overstimulate you.

You look at him, his neck and cheeks are red, his breathing is just as heavy as yours.

You push against his chest to make him lay on his back. He pulls out of you and rolls over. Kneeling next to him, you start to kiss every single scar on his abdomen

His hand flies to your shoulder.

"Does it hurt?" You ask concerned.

Hotch shakes his head: "No. I'm just not used to someone touching me there."

"What a shame." You return to your task of littering his stomach and chest with kisses.

Deliberately, you avoid touching his cock. When you stroke his chest and neck with your hand, he finally gives in: "Please." His voice is raspy but higher than usually.

Your hand wanders down and ghosts over his inner thighs, ignoring his pleading. Hotch becomes undone under your touch: "Please, mommy." He begs. "I've been such a good boy."

You moan in response. You run your tongue over his dick before crawling up to him.

He lifts his chin, and you kiss him. "You've been really well-behaved. You deserve a reward."

You lift his dick and sink onto it. He lets out a higher pitched moan than before. It's wonderful seeing him like this. Hotch really lets go.

Slowly, you start to bounce up and down on him. Circling your hips, you clench rhythmically around his cock.

"Fucking hell!" He almost yells.

You see in his eyes and the way he clenches his jaw that he is close to the edge. His hands have been holding onto the bedsheets. You grab his arm and push it towards your throat. In return, you put your hand around his.

Staring into your eyes, you start to choke each other. The movements of your hips get faster, your body starts to spasm a second time. Simultaneously, you let go of the other's throat.

Your orgasm hits you like lighting, making you press your thighs against Aaron's ribs. His hands find yours and press them against his chest. You hear him letting out another moan and feel his dick twitch inside you.

Your movements halt and you bow down, leaning your forehead against his chest. Hotch squeezes your hands: "Holy shit."

You lay down next to him: "Fuck, Aaron."

ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ

Sitting in the kitchen, you eat the pasta Hotch cooked.

"What were you about to say?"

He puts down his fork: "When?"

"Before I fucked the shit out of you."

He laughs, running his hand through his hair: "I wanted to say that I am sometimes bemused by the fact that you want to be with me."

"Why?" You frown.

"Because I think you're unbelievably hot and pretty sure you could be with anyone."

Leaning towards him, you ask: "Is it the age thing again?"

"Kind of, yeah."

"I think it simply adds flavor to our power dynamic."

He starts to smile: "I haven't thought about it like that."

You wink at him: "Getting my fifteen years older boss to call me mommy is pretty high up on my list of sexual achievements." You pause. "Not that I pursued this relationship with that goal."

He chuckles: "As I found out today, having my subordinate make me do that is pretty high on mine as well."

You take his hand: "Glad we talked about that."

Hotch blinks: "How do you do that? Being so straight forward but also empathetic?"

You shrug your shoulders: "Years and years of therapy."

You smile at him: "I guess being raised by narcissists has it perks."

Aaron stares at you in disbelieve.

"What? You haven't profiled that about me? My habitus quite obviously indicates that."

He shakes his head: "I am probably too focused on criminology."

You laugh: "So you can deduce the color of a man's socks after being in a court room with him for thirty minutes, but you can't see that?"

"He annoyed me. I hyper-focused on his behavior."

"Fair enough."

"Yours are striped yellow and white, by the way."

"Oh, shut up, Mr. Charcoal-Grey, you saw me put them on."

ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ

"Wheels up in thirty." Hotch announces.

It excites you every time he says that, with his dark voice, face all stern.

You got cleared by the doctor just in time to fly to New York with the rest of the team.

There have been three bombs so far. All going off near subway stations. Luckily, they never killed anyone, but nevertheless sent several people to the hospital.

"It's likely that the unsub is still testing out how much damage he can do." Spencer tells the team, nose buried in the file.

"Maybe he doesn't know how to properly build a bomb?" JJ asks.

Morgan shakes his head: "There are instruction manuals online."

"And when he has to be close by to set them off?" Emily proposes.

Hotch looks at her: "Possibly. That would force him to keep the explosion small."

"How far are we on the analysis of the parts of the bombs?" You ask.

"Unfortunately, not very far." Hotch answers. "A lot of parts have been scattered and spread by people running away from the explosion."

The team gets in two SUVs to drive to the New York office. You drive one, Hotch the other, following you. Showing your badges, you enter the FBI building. An agent greets you and tells you to follow him to the taskforce.

It's a big room with several desks with computers on them, and a wall of screens at the other end of the room. The glass door is opened for you, and you are led to a separate room, adjacent to the office, also fully framed by glass walls.

The team piles in and puts their files on the roundtable. Your back faces the door when you hear heels clicking behind you.

"Thanks for coming." You hear a familiar voice.

"Oh shit." You whisper. Spencer hears it and shoots you a look.

When you turn around, you face a red haired woman in a pantsuit.

She is evidently just as surprised as you are.

"Hi, Dana." You extend your hand to shake hers, not knowing what to do otherwise.

"You know each other?" Hotch asks, his eyes darting between the two of you.

"You could say that." Dana answers before you have the chance to.

She clears her voice: "Well, welcome to New York everyone. I'm Agent Scully, head of the taskforce." Hotch shakes her hand as well, everyone else just nods at her.

After filling you in on the details, Scully asks if Reid could join the technical analysts. Happily, he gets up and walks over to them.

"JJ, Emily, and Morgan. Every one of you goes to look at one of the crime scenes."

They nod and step out. You really wish that you could have gone with them, but you were not to ask Hotch to do that. It just would make it more awkward between you and Dana; and obvious that you want to avoid her.

Instead, you start to build the geographical profile, putting up a map and circling the crime scenes. Then you intensely stare at it, trying to figure out connections between them. Like major streets, subways and so on. You also try to seem deep in thought so that no one asks you about Dana.

That works for about half an hour. Then Reid makes you jump, by suddenly standing next to you and asking: "How do you know Agent Scully?"

"Don't you have some analysis to do?"

"I'm done." He answers deadpan, not letting you off the hook.

You look around, seeing Hotch in the main office, talking to other agents.

You sigh: "She's my ex-girlfriend."

Reid stares at you like he did not understand a word of what you just said.

"What are you thinking about?" Hotch's voice makes you flinch.

Reid's head whips around: "She just made the point that the only thing the crime scenes have in common, is that they are near construction sides."

You squint your eyes, knowing damn well that's something he figured out while looking at the surveillance footage.

"Good work. We should call Garcia. It's possible the unsub works on all of them. Or disguises himself as a construction worker." Hotch nods at you and reaches for his phone.

Just as Garcia picks up, the others return.

You escape the usual banter between Morgan and her and mumble something about coffee while leaving the room. Relentless, Spencer follows you.

You get in line for coffee, Spencer standing next to you.

"So, you're gay?" He asks quietly.

For a moment you want to let him think that, just so he will stop asking about Hotch and you. But your pride doesn't allow it. You shake your head: "No."

He looks just as confused as before. Then you can see the insight hit him: "I understand."

You want to tease him and ask: "Really?"

That backfires at you, because now you have to listen to Reid rambling facts about Bisexuality for the next eight minutes.

He only stops when you run into Dana in the hallway. He gives her an awkward smile and takes off with the coffee for everyone. You sigh.

"Nice to see you." She smiles at you.

"Hey, Dana. When did you transfer to New York?" You try ridiculously hard to hold the eye contact, looking down at your ex-girlfriend.

"Two years ago."

Oh boy. That's when you broke up.

You clear your throat: "I see."

"When did you join the BAU?" She steps a little closer. The familiar scent is intoxicating.

"Six months ago. I filled in for SSA Rossi."

"Impressive. That must make you one of the youngest agents to join."

"Yeah, Reid beat me six years to it." You can hear your own pulse by now.

"Hey! We need you in here." Hotch saves you from further conversation.

You nod at Dana and quickly walk towards him. He saw how close you two were standing and his lips are pressed together.

While the others give the profile, Reid and you try to figure out where the next bomb is likely to go off. Garcia hasn't found anything about the construction workers so far.

There are four possible locations that match the criterions of the last three. That's a lot of ground to cover and it's late. The other bombs went off in the middle of the day.

Hotch and Scully decide that you should go to sleep, having patrol cars surveil the areas.

Thankful, everyone gathers their stuff. You're almost out of the building when a call makes you halt in your steps.

Scully catches up to you. The rest of the team looks at you, irritated. You nod at them, and they leave without you. Hotch lingers a little longer, staring at you. You give him a small smile and turn to face Scully.

"What's up?" You ask her, hoping it has to do with the case.

Slowly you leave the building. Scully gestures down the street: "Walk with me?"

You really want to say no, but you also want to show basic decency: "Alright."

For a block you walk in silence. You will not do her the favor and talk first.

Infront of a small Chinese restaurant you stop.

"Hungry?" She asks.

You actually are starving: "Yes."

You follow her inside and she orders for both of you. She also pays for the both of you. Without her noticing you slip a ten-dollar bill in her jacket.

Sitting on the steps of a building nearby, you eat your takeout.

"Do you miss me sometimes?" Dana suddenly asks.

You turn to look at her. She's unbearably hot and you have to take a deep breath before you can answer: "Of course."

"Would you like to go back to my place?" She puts one hand on your thigh.

You cough up noodles. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

You put down your food: "Because, Dana, we're currently on a case."

"That never stopped you before." She grins at you.

Damn short, redheaded women in pantsuits driving you insane.

"I'm sorry, but my answer is no." You eat the rest of your noodles and are about to get up, when Dana grabs your arm: "Do you have someone else?"

You sigh: "Does that matter?"

"So yes."

"Goodnight, Dana."

You get up and into a cab to the hotel.

ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ

It's almost noon and everyone is spread at the different locations you and Reid profiled for the next attack. You're with Hotch and an agent from Dana's team. Reid is with Morgan, JJ with Emily, and Dana is with her team at the fourth. You're thankful that you didn't get paired up with her.

Hotch and you are sitting at a Café whereas the other Agent – Smith – is standing at the next corner. For make-believe, you ordered some coffee. But looking around constantly doesn't really allow you to enjoy it.

Without looking at you, Hotch asks: "What is your connection with Dana Scully?"

You knew this question was coming: "Haven't you figured that out by now?"

He sighs: "She is your ex-girlfriend, isn't she?"

You catch his gaze for a second: "Yes."

"Is she the significant relationship you mentioned?"

"Are you jealous, Hotch?" You directly look at him.

He stares back: "No. I would just like to know, why my girlfriend went out for dinner with her ex yesterday."

"So, you are jealous."

"Come on, that's not fair, I-"

Before he can finish his sentence, you hear Agent Smith yelling through the earpiece: "I think I see him! On the other side of the street. Green jacket, wearing a safety west."

Hotch and you jump off your chairs and look around. Crossing the street right now, you see a man wearing a safety west, but obviously not belonging to the construction workers. It's still enough to be overlooked by pedestrians.

Hotch and you split up, flanking him from both sides. You have to carefully get closer. If you just run at him, he could still set the bomb off.

You look around the unsub and his surroundings. Something's off. Why isn't he more vigilant? Shouldn't he make sure to be at the right distance from the bomb?

You activate your microphone: "Hotch, something's not right."

Just when he starts to answer, the bomb goes off. It's not at the other side of the street, like you expected since the man was walking away from it. It's behind you.

Pure chaos ensues. People are screaming and running around. You are pushed off your feet, hitting the sidewalk. Groaning, you grab you phone: "Reid, Reid! It's here. He's here."

"We're coming. Hold on!" Before the call ends, you can Reid shout at the others.

You look around. You cannot see Hotch anywhere. He was right there. Maybe two hundred feet to your left.

"Hotch! Hotch, are you there?" You scream into your mic.

No answer. You see Smith running towards you: "Have you seen Agent Hotchner?"

"No, I lost visual on him after the explosion."

"Fuck!" You frantically look around. Sirens are already coming your way.

"Help the bystanders." You tell Smith before taking off running.

You jog to where you have seen Hotch last, standing between two cars.

You get sick to your stomach, when you see blood splattered on the trunk of the right car.

You're sure it's Aaron's. The next subway entrance is not far away. You run down the stairs, following your gut. "Aaron!" You repeatedly yell. In the middle of the now empty platform, something cates your eyes.

You throw up into a garbage can when you see what it is.

ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ

"How are you feeling?" Reid hands you a bottle of water.

"Awful." You are sitting on the floor in the hallway, knees pressed against your chest, forehead resting on them.

Reid sits down next to you: "Isn't it possible that Hotch lost his badge while running?"

You shake your head: "I appreciate you trying to calm me down, but we both know he has been taken."

Reid puts his arm around your shoulder: "It's not your fault."

"I may not be the one who took him, but I realized too late that something was wrong. It was right before my eyes and I didn't understand until… Fuck, Reid." You sigh and press your palms against your eyes to stop yourself from crying.

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Agents walk by, giving you confused looks.

After inhaling deeply a few times, you get up.

Garcia is almost as agitated as you are. She tries her best to locate Hotch. But his phone is turned off and his trackable earpiece also has been removed.

Resting your head on your hands, you stare onto the notes in front of you.

"We were so wrong about the profile. The reason the bombs didn't actually kill someone, is because that was not the goal. The goal was to get our attention."

"To get Hotch." Emily adds, earning a disapproving look by JJ and Morgan. They all see how hurt you are. It's agony, sitting here, knowing that your boyfriend is being held captive somewhere. If he even is still alive.

They don't even know that he is your boyfriend. You want to cry so bad. But you have to keep it together. For Aaron.

Morgan's phone rings: "Baby girl, you are on speaker." He puts it on the table.

"As suggested, I looked into everyone that might hold a grudge against Hotch. Recently released inmates, rejected Agents and so on…there is one that caught my attention: James Barr. He got rejected several times when he applied for the profiling courses at the Academy. Now guess who rejected his applications."

"Hotch." You groan. "Do we have an address?"

"Yes! Right here in New York." Garcia replies, sending the address to your phones.

ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ ɤɤɤɤ

A SWAT-Team accompanies you into the building. You lead them straight to Barr's apartment. You didn't even let Morgan finish his proposal about going in first.

The apartment is on the third floor. The SWAT-Leader gives you a nod and you kick the door in, full force. It flies open, breaking off the hinges.

"FBI!" You shout, entering.

Scanning the apartment, you make your way towards the next room.

You turn the corner, your gun in front of you. The scene before you lets you stop dead in your tracks. Hotch is handcuffed to a chair, cheeks and mouth bleeding. Blood stains are forming on his shirt.

Barr stands beside him, holding a gun to his head. Without blinking Hotch stares back at him, not showing one bit of fear.

"James Barr. FBI. Drop the gun." You tell him in an assertive tone.

"Look who finally decided to show up." He smiles at you. "I almost thought you didn't care about the precious Agent Hotchner."

You don't give him the satisfaction of reacting to that. "Drop the gun."

"I don't think I will." Barr laughs. "I am happy to die her today, taking this pretentious dipshit with me."

That's enough. You roll your eyes at him: "Aww, did little James get upset because he was rejected from the Academy?" Your tone is patronizing, and you see him flinch.

"Is that it?" You laugh at him: "You couldn't take being a loser and decided to kill someone? To build bombs because you're so desperate to get attention?"

Hotch is looking at you, but you keep your eyes on Barr. You hear the SWAT-Team behind you, but since you are standing in the doorway, they cannot enter the room.

You take one step closer.

"That's close enough!" Barr yells.

"Why? Are you scared of an actual FBI Agent?"

That finally sets him off and he lifts his arm to point the gun at you instead of Hotch. As soon as the barrel is no longer near Hotch's head, you empty your entire magazine into Barr's chest.

You rush towards Hotch, cutting his restraints. Kneeing before him you take his head into your hands: "I'm so sorry." You press a kiss to his forehead, not caring if anyone of the team sees it.

"Hey." He hugs you.

You laugh relieved, being able to touch him.

"We should stop getting in situations where we have to cut the other loose."

Hotch chuckles: "At least he didn't ruin my pants."

You help him get up; he leans onto you, putting his arm on your shoulders.

The rest of the team comes in. They all sigh in relief when they see that Hotch is more or less alright.

"Let's get you to a medic." You tell him and help him walk all the way outside.

You don't leave his side while the paramedics check him out. He took a few blows to his head, but luckily has no concussion.

You sit down next to him, at the back of the ambulance, forcing him to keep the blanket the paramedic gave him on his shoulders.

"I was so scared." You tell him, taking his hand.

He squeezes your hand, raising it to kiss the back of it: "Thank you for finding me so quickly."

"I'm also sorry. Dana wanted to talk to me, she basically asked me out."

Hotch raises his eyebrow, wincing at the pain it causes.

"I, of course, politely declined." You smile at him.

"Okay." He nods.

You spend the evening at a bar Dana suggested. Hotch and you are basically glued together,

still trying to not make it too obvious. The team cheers, raising to a toast.

You see Dana's eyes dart between Hotch and you a few times. When you catch her gaze, she

smiles at you, raising her beer. You raise yours as well, nodding slightly.

Leaning over to Hotch, you whisper: "Wanna get out of here?"