This wasn't exactly what Derek had in mind when he'd come out to the club tonight, but then again, he hadn't ever expected to see Spencer Reid in any of the clubs he frequented. Well, the smoky jazz clubs Derek liked on mellow nights when he wasn't looking to hook up or work off some steam, maybe, but not here. Not in a bass-thumping, blood-pumping dance club full of hot young things. Derek knew a lot of people had a totally different persona outside of work, but he'd never seen this one coming.
Spencer was dancing. And he wasn't dancing alone, he was dancing with a gorgeous, dark-haired man. Derek had been happily grooving with a smoking hot redhead in a tiny black dress and legs up to here, but when he saw Spencer, he was so surprised he lost the rhythm. When he realized Spencer was dancing with a man, he actually stopped moving.
"Something wrong?" the redhead whispered, and Derek jerked his attention back to her. He tightened his arm around her waist and told himself he was imagining things; there was no way Spencer Reid liked places like The Attic.
A minute later, though, he couldn't keep pretending. That was Spencer, and he was dressed in a thin, clingy shirt and tight jeans and he was fucking draped over that guy. What the hell? Maybe Spencer had come here and that guy had slipped him something. Derek lowered his head and kissed the redhead.
"I gotta go. Good to meet you." She curled her fingers in his t-shirt and protested, but he just smiled and pulled away. Then he went in search of Spencer.
He found him near the back of the club, grinding against the dark-haired guy he'd been dancing with earlier. Derek paused long enough to be sure it was Spencer, but there was no question. He was wearing a dark blue shirt that stuck to his lanky frame, emphasizing just how damn skinny he was. His hair was falling messily in his face, which was lowered as the man's lips pressed to his temple.
Derek scowled. What the hell was going on? This wasn't like Spencer at all. Of course, Spencer still was a little off his game since all that shit went down with Hankel...but that was to be expected. He was suffering from PTSD and there were all kinds of things at work that could remind him of what happened in Georgia. Still, maybe Spencer really did like dance clubs, despite his protests whenever the team went out. Maybe this was his way of unwinding. And maybe, just maybe, this was his way of dealing with all the stuff life had thrown at him. It was how Derek did it, and though he wouldn't have expected it of Spencer, it was possible. Derek chewed his lower lip, wondering what he should do.
He took too long debating it. The dark-haired guy must have felt Derek staring at him, because he suddenly looked up and their gazes met. Derek didn't know what his expression was, but it made the guy pull away and say something hastily to Spencer. A moment later Spencer was turning, and it was too late for Derek to do anything other than face him.
As soon as Spencer saw him, his mouth fell open just a little. Then a shock went through Derek as Spencer licked his lower lip slowly and pushed the dark-haired man away without even looking back at him. The man didn't protest, either. Derek felt like he was a satellite being suddenly pulled into orbit as he found himself moving towards Spencer. He didn't remember deciding to move, but suddenly he was standing in front of Spencer, his entire body singing with awareness.
Spencer didn't bother talking to him. He flowed up next to Derek and wrapped an arm around Derek's neck. Derek had time to wonder madly if Spencer was wearing eyeliner, or if those were just dark smudges--and then Spencer's lips were pressed against his...Spencer's entire body was pressed against his.
Oh, God, he thought, as Spencer's tongue trailed along his lower lip. With a groan, Derek gave in and opened his mouth, meeting Spencer's hungry kiss with his own rising passion. This wasn't at all what he'd expected for the night, but he'd have to be out of his mind to pass it up. He looped his arms around Spencer's waist, pulling him closer, and that was when he realized how damn skinny the kid really was. He'd lost weight. He had to have lost weight. They'd had a certain amount of body contact in the course of their job, both when Derek had tackled Spencer to keep him out of danger and when Spencer had been in Derek's hand-to-hand classes. The Spencer in his arms now was definitely less substantial than the one he'd taught how to fall properly and throw a larger opponent over his hip.
But a moment later that thought was driven out of Derek's mind as Spencer ground up against him, making his arousal very apparent. It made Derek groan into the kiss, and then he realized he hadn't even checked to see if Spencer had been slipped something in a drink.
He pulled back, breathing hard. "Spencer--" He was interrupted with a kiss. "Hang on, are you--" he tried again, and those full, lush lips cut him off again. Finally he pulled back and covered Spencer's mouth with one hand.
"Are you okay?" he demanded before moving his hand away.
"I'm great, Morgan. I can feel every inch of my body, and I want to share it with you." The words were languid despite the way they had to almost shout to be heard over the music. Spencer's breath was hot in Derek's ear, and sent a shiver down his spine.
"You want to fuck me, don't you? Normally I wouldn't sleep with a coworker, but I want you, too, Morgan."
There were a lot of reasons Derek went looking for sex in nightclubs. He knew he wasn't ready to settle down. He liked having a good time and not having to worry about finding the time to schedule a relationship around his job. He liked not having to meet the parents. And he really liked not having to divulge his past to a lover. He could bury himself in sex, stop thinking, just seek out pleasure and forget everything else for a time.
But Spencer knew his past. Spencer understood that work was his priority. And Spencer was beautiful. They'd even met each other's parents, even if it had been a bit unconventional. There was no question that if Derek wanted a relationship, Spencer was a very good candidate. Hell, if Derek had known Spencer liked guys, he might have gone for something sooner.
Derek cupped a hand under Spencer's chin, holding his gaze. Spencer's pupils were constricted, which seemed odd considering how dark it was in here, not to mention the fact that pupils usually dilated with physical attraction. But Spencer was smiling, and instead of jerking out of Derek's touch, he lowered his head to nip teasingly at his thumb.
"You want me," Spencer said, leaning closer. "Admit it, you want me as much as I want you."
"Fuck, yeah," Derek admitted easily. "But I don't want to take advantage of you if you're drunk or if someone slipped you a mickey."
"I'm fiiiine," Spencer said, smiling expansively at him. "I'm a little drunk, but I'm perfectly capable of rendering consent, and I know how you operate, so you don't have anything to worry about, Morgan."
What did that mean, he knew how Derek operated? Derek frowned slightly, but Spencer leaned in and kissed him hungrily, and that was it. He couldn't resist any longer.
He gave back as good as he got, one hand sliding down to cup Spencer's ass as they moved together. The beat of the music was insistent, and Derek didn't have anything against dancing and kissing for a while, enjoying the atmosphere and getting themselves worked up. He made a noise that Spencer would feel if he didn't hear and pulled him closer. He could feel Spencer's erection through his jeans, and he was pretty sure Spencer could feel Derek getting hard against his hip.
God, this was the perfect solution. Not that a relationship with Spencer wouldn't take work, because any relationship would. But it wouldn't be at all hard to make a commitment to someone as interesting and intelligent and sexy as Spencer Reid. And they wouldn't have the obstacle of Derek's demanding work schedule to deal with, since they would share the same schedule. There was still the problem of Derek's intimacy issues, but they'd have time to work through those. And Spencer had issues of his own, but again, that was what relationships were for, right? Yes, Derek thought. This is it.
They lost themselves to the music and to each other for a long while. Derek didn't bother getting another drink. Spencer's kisses were drug enough for him, slow and heavy and entirely consuming. He was surprised at how relaxed Spencer was, how gracefully he moved to the sultry beat of the music as one song mixed into another. Before he knew it, the DJ was announcing that the club would be closing soon. How had that happened? Time had gone too quickly.
Spencer's hand was on his ass, his lips against Derek's throat. When the last song started, Spencer lifted his head and spoke in Derek's ear. "We should go back to my place. I live closer than you do."
"Yeah," Derek agreed, and began steering Spencer towards the door. It took longer than he'd expected, because Spencer kept kissing him, and it was damn distracting. But finally they were outside waiting for a cab. Spencer pressed Derek against the brick of the building, kissing him again. It was a thrilling sensation, to feel the wiry strength in Spencer's body. Derek liked that they were the same height. They exchanged breathless kisses, Derek's fingers running up into Spencer's hair.
After a while, Derek found himself feeling almost dizzy with want. He had to wonder just how drunk Spencer was, though. One rule Derek had always held himself to was to always make sure his partner was capable of giving consent. There had been a few nights that he'd taken someone home, made sure she got in the door, then gone home himself. "You know," Derek murmured, his lips brushing Spencer's, "I've done this a few times, pretty boy."
"Doesn't matter." Spencer kissed him again, rolling his hips against Derek's and eliciting a groan.
Derek tried to ignore the pleasure surging through him. "I just mean, I don't want you to think--"
"Doesn't matter," Spencer insisted, and kissed him harder. Maybe he didn't want to know who else had been in this position with Derek before. Maybe he didn't want to think about the way Derek could go out and find casual, no-strings sex. That was fine with Derek; he didn't need to go into the details of his sexual history, because he was always careful and got tested regularly. And from now on, it would be different. He opened his mouth to tell Spencer that, but Spencer grabbed his ass and the thought fell away. It occurred to him that maybe he should ask about Spencer's past, but he didn't feel the need; he trusted Spencer.
Derek made them stop kissing when they got into the cab. After a while he turned sideways to face Spencer, reaching out to curl his fingers around Spencer's. Spencer looked down at their intertwined fingers, seeming surprised.
"This is great, Spencer," Derek murmured, leaning closer. "I had no idea...I mean, I never even thought about it..." He lifted a hand and brushed at Spencer's hair. Spencer pulled back, staring at him.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"What?" Derek smiled and shook his head. "No, man, I just had no idea you're into guys, and...I mean, it's perfect. If you want me, and I want you..." He shrugged. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes. You can believe in me. You can trust me."
Spencer frowned at him, but the cab pulled up at their destination before he could answer. Spencer paid the fare, then led Derek up the stairs. Spencer pressed him against his apartment door for a searing kiss, and Derek moaned and wrapped his arms around the slender body.
The minute they were inside the apartment, Spencer tugged on Derek's t-shirt, the brush of his fingers burning against Derek's chest. He was so sexy, all confidence and fueled by passion. Derek's hands moved to undo the buttons on Spencer's shirt, and they crossed the living room and headed down the hall shedding clothes the whole way. Spencer paused only to flick on lights, though he left the bedroom comparatively dim.
They were nearly naked when they fell on the bed together, and Derek gasped at the way Spencer's body felt beneath his. He had lost weight, though, there was no question of that. Derek could count his ribs and did, his fingers climbing along them like a ladder. Spencer distracted him, though, arching under him and pulling him down so their bodies pressed against each other.
"God, Morgan, you're so fucking hot. I've always thought so," he breathed, twining his arms around Derek's neck. It was incredibly sexy, hearing Spencer swear. Derek kissed him passionately, letting him feel just how much Derek wanted him.
"You're beautiful," he murmured back, stroking a hand down Spencer's body. "Oh, pretty boy, I never imagined you might like men." He couldn't keep his mouth off Spencer's. There was something addictive about these kisses. "Would've started something...hell of a lot sooner..."
Spencer tensed suddenly, then pressed a finger to Derek's mouth. "Don't talk," he whispered. His gaze was fixed on Derek's face, and that was definitely eyeliner, even if the smudges under his eyes had gotten darker lately.
Derek frowned at him; he'd never really thought about it, but he would have imagined Spencer would be a talker during sex. He threw out facts and trivia like it was normal during conversations, but he didn't want to talk during sex? He ought to be explaining how places like the back of the knee or the curve of a shoulder could be erogenous zones. He ought to be-- Derek cut himself off. He obviously had no idea how Spencer ought to be, if Spencer liked clubs like The Attic and slept with men. Maybe he'd been wrong about Spencer in a lot of ways.
So he kissed Spencer again, hungrily, loving the way he felt the slighter man gasp against his mouth. He kissed his way down to lick and nibble at Spencer's collarbone, hearing Spencer's breathing hitch in his chest. He skated his lips down to one nipple and sucked, then bit, which made Spencer yelp and demand he do it again.
When he started to move lower, though, Spencer stopped him.
"No, let me," he murmured, and rolled them over with a move Derek was certain he'd taught him in hand-to-hand. It sent a rush of excitement through Derek's body. He couldn't help sliding his hands into Spencer's hair, though, twining the strands around his fingers. "God," he breathed.
"I want to suck you," Spencer whispered. "I want you to fuck me."
The words made Derek's eyes fly open as another wave of lust rolled through him. But this language, this behavior... No matter what he'd thought about Spencer before, it still didn't seem right. Spencer sounded more like a hooker than he did himself. Derek stroked his fingers against Spencer's cheek. "Pretty boy, are you sure about this?"
Spencer's eyes flashed with anger. "Would you ask that of someone else you picked up at a club?"
"No, but you're different," Derek replied, smoothing his fingers over Spencer's hair. "You're special."
"I'm not special," Spencer replied. His expression darkened. "I'm just someone you picked up at a club." He surged forward and kissed Derek hard, his mouth bruising in its demand. Derek wanted to protest, to explain that of course Spencer was special, and Derek hadn't been trying to just pick him up, but Spencer didn't give him a chance. He thrust his tongue into Derek's mouth aggressively, and Derek had to work hard to resist how turned on he was.
"Pretty boy--" he murmured. "Hang on, pretty boy." He reached up again, tracing Spencer's jaw with his fingers. A moment later, Spencer's fingers caught around his wrist like a vise. They were cold, and for no reason he could discern, Derek thought of a skeleton.
"What's wrong, Spence?" he murmured.
"Nothing's wrong. I want you to fuck me. Hard."
Derek felt his eyebrows going up. Okay, he'd thought maybe that guy had slipped Spencer something in his drink, but now he was starting to think he'd gotten the wrong impression. Maybe Spencer did this from time to time, going out looking to be wild and have himself a good time. A quiet voice in the back of his head suggested that maybe Spencer did this often, but Derek pushed it away. It was one thing for him to live like that; he'd been damaged since he was twelve. It was entirely different for Spencer to do that, going out to give himself to the hottest guy who was willing to fuck him. He just wouldn't do that. He was too smart for that, too fastidious.
"Don't call me that!" Spencer's voice was harsh, and he was frowning at Derek. "I thought you'd want this, Morgan. It's simple, no strings attached. All you have to do is fuck me and go."
"Fuck you and go?" Derek pulled back further, frowning back at Spencer. "That's not--I don't want--Pretty boy--"
"Reid," Spencer corrected. He sounded angry, and his cheeks were flushed now. His eyes, Derek noticed, were still constricted. A warning tone sounded in the back of his mind, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. This was Spencer, after all, not some stranger he'd met in the back of the bar. Derek knew Spencer, he knew what Spencer was like. This wasn't normal.
"Look, maybe this isn't a good idea," Derek began, but Spencer hooked a hand around the back of his neck and kissed him hard, cutting him off.
"What, is Derek Morgan too good for me?" he hissed, curling a leg around Derek's. "Come on, Morgan, I know you want me. I've wanted you, too, for so long. This will be good. I'm good, I promise."
Derek eyed him, feeling a sinking sense of misgiving. But it was true, he did want Spencer. And it was good to hear that Spencer wanted him, too. So why did it feel wrong? "Reid, did someone slip you something?"
Spencer's laugh was too quick, with almost a desperate quality to it, and Derek realized suddenly what was wrong. No one had slipped Spencer something; he'd taken it voluntarily, whatever it was. After a moment, Derek realized it must be an opiate of some sort. It explained the constriction of his pupils and the way he seemed so relaxed--euphoric, almost. Of course. And if he'd been doing this for a while, it explained why he seemed so much skinnier than he used to be. Derek's chest felt tight. Hankel, he recalled, had been injecting Spencer with Dilaudid. Drugstore heroin, they called it. A cheap prescription drug that could be easily injected, it produced a euphoric high with none of the sedation of morphine. He wondered if Spencer had found a way to get his hands on more.
Spencer was smiling at him, a bright, broad smile that was unnatural on his expressive face. "No one slipped me anything, Morgan. I just want sex. Good, hard sex. And I know I can get that from you, can't I? I just want to lose myself for a while." Derek was about to pull away when Spencer's expression changed, softened, became more like the pretty genius boy he knew. "Please, Derek," he whispered, and one of his hands stroked over Derek's cheek. "I want you so much. That's not a lie. You know it isn't."
Derek held his gaze and finally nodded. He could tell Spencer was telling the truth. But it didn't matter. Spencer was high. "I know it's not," he murmured, and kissed Spencer once more, very softly. His throat tightened as Spencer stiffened under the gentle touch. Derek sat up. "I know it's not a lie," he said again. "But I'm not going to do this. Not like this, not with you high as a kite and unable to give clear, informed consent. Not with your inhibitions lowered and your body and mind in a state of euphoria."
"Right, I forgot," Spencer hissed. "You're so much better than the rest of us. You do think you're too good for me, don't you? Gorgeous Derek Morgan can fuck anyone he wants, so why the fuck would he be interested in white, nerdy Spencer Reid? Why would he want someone who fucks up and gets himself taken hostage by the God-damned unsub?" His voice was rising, and Derek couldn't tell whether anger or hurt was stronger in his expression. "Why would the great sex god Derek Morgan lower himself to put his dick in someone like me?"
"Hey!" Derek said, his anger finally getting the best of him. "Shut up, man! You don't know anything about me! I don't fuck people who don't know what they're doing. I don't take advantage of people. I'm not that guy, Spencer."
"Yeah, great," Spencer agreed. The desperation had drained out of him and his voice was flat again. He was holding himself tensely, his face angled away from Derek. "You're so fucking noble."
"Don't do this, pretty boy," Derek murmured. He tugged his pants back on and glanced around for his shirt, then remembered he'd left it in the other room. He shrugged and turned back. Spencer had rolled onto his side, facing away from Derek. "Hey, come on," he protested.
There was no response. Derek leaned over him, trying to see his face. Spencer's hair got in the way.
"Come on, please, Spence--"
"I told you not to call me that. Only JJ calls me that." Spencer's voice was tight. "Look, Morgan, thanks for nothing. Would you please...just go."
"Go? It's like four in the morning!" Not that Derek hadn't left places at that hour after a tryst, but never anything like this. He'd never been thrown out, for one thing. And for another, he'd never wanted so much to stay.
"I'm sure you know how to find a cab, even at this hour," Spencer said sarcastically. "Even I know how to find a cab at this hour, and I'm not as much of a slut as you are. Not yet, anyway."
A chill ran through Derek at those last words. Slut. He stared at the tense lines of Spencer's shoulder and back. "I...I thought maybe we could--"
"This isn't going to happen again," Spencer cut in. "It can't. You lost your chance, Morgan."
"But...Spencer, we...This could be really good." Derek tried to think of all the reasons he'd listed earlier tonight. "We both understand how important our work is, we have the same schedule...And you're gorgeous, I mean, you already know I'm attracted to you. We're friends, we're good friends. I really think--"
"Look, I'm just not ready to settle down. Isn't that what you tell all the girls?" Spencer's tone was biting. He didn't turn to look at Derek. "Not to mention I wouldn't exactly trust you to settle down, anyway."
Derek pulled back, stung. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, he reminded himself. And opiates. Hydromorphone. Alcohol. God knows what else. This isn't really Spencer saying that. It was ridiculous, since he hadn't even considered the idea of them as a couple until earlier tonight...but it hurt, the way Spencer was dismissing it out of hand.
"You, uh...Spencer, you're not..." He sighed, unsure what to say. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Spencer rolled onto his stomach, looking for all the world as if he were going to completely ignore Derek if he didn't leave. "Just don't talk about this at the office."
As if Derek would go around telling people that Spencer had jilted him. Derek sighed again. "I won't."
For now, he added mentally as he got out of bed and gathered the rest of his clothes. He was already wondering how much Hotch and Gideon might have noticed about Spencer's behavior. Was Gideon covering for him? Hotch wouldn't. He would never condone something like this. But Gideon...Derek had always liked the man well enough, but ever since Boston, Derek had stopped trusting him. Yeah, he would cover for this, if it meant he got to keep taking the credit for Spencer's brilliance.
Suddenly Spencer's bizarre behavior in New Orleans and Dallas made a lot more sense. Derek had worked vice and gone undercover with narcotics when he was a cop. He knew what a junkie looked like. Even a functioning junkie. He'd just never expected to see Spencer Reid reduced to this. And we don't see what we're not looking for, he thought sadly.
He tugged his shirt over his head, then turned to look at Spencer. Spencer had dragged the covers across his half-naked body, so all Derek could see was a tousled mop of brown hair at one end of a lump under the blanket. I won't talk about it for now, he thought at his colleague. But if you keep fucking up, I'm not going to cover for you.
He let himself out of the apartment, already punching the cab company speed dial on his cell phone. No, this definitely hadn't been what Derek had in mind when he'd come out to the club tonight.
He'd certainly never expected to get his heart broken.