Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Sweater Paws 🔥 (E)

Summary: Spencer gets a little too excited and hides his mess under his sweater.

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Content Warning: Sub!Spencer, fingering, premature ejaculation, oral sex (malereceiving), mild overstimulation

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My favorite part about this time of year was the chill in the air. Especially at night. The first time the temperature was set to dip under 50 degrees overnight, Spencer would find his favorite sweater to burrow into before he came to bed. And as much as I loved the hot summer nights with his bare chest to my back, there was just something so fucking innocent about the way he looked swamped in the fuzzy, fluffy fabric.

Although I was wearing my own clothes, Spencer would still share the soft sensations with me by pulling his sleeves over his hands, which he proceeded to slip under my shirt. From there, he would gently draw patterns over my stomach. Patterns I'm sure had several meanings that were all similar to, 'I love you endlessly.'

But beneath that bashful appearance was a hidden deviancy— a desire so strong it seeped from his fingertips that peeked out from beyond the sweater sleeves. The pads of his fingers became harsher when they drew over my hips and paired well with his heavy breaths turning to desperate panting in my ear.

The warmth from his lips caused my back to arch, setting off a chain reaction as my bottom pressed against his painfully obvious erection. Even Spencer was unable to resist, his hips bucking forward with a weak whimper falling from his lips.

"Spencer..." I warned in a voice too dreamy to be stern.

He didn't take it seriously, either, considering his hips only grew faster and more insistent in their rocking. I grabbed a hold of his arms still wrapped around me, which urged him on even more. If I'd really wanted him to stop, I could have grabbed his hips. I could have used a darker tone and ordered him to stop, but I did neither of those things.

"Yes ma'am?" he managed between breaths, beginning to rub himself against me in longer strokes with each thrust.

The feeling it sparked made it even harder to continue my astonishingly weak chastisement, but I tried, nonetheless.

"You know how I feel about you getting me riled up before bed."

"I'm sorry," he lied. It was a lie for one glaringly obvious reason.

"You're still doing it."

"I can't stop," he whined, burying his face into my neck and nipping at the skin the same way a kitten might play. My whole body shuddered in response, goosebumps rippling from every place he touched me. It was all made worse by the way his hair tickled under my jaw.

"It feels so good," he keened, "You feel so good."

I had already accepted defeat. We both knew the second I failed to stop his hips that I had lost. There was simply no ignoring how badly I wanted release. How badly I wanted him.

So I shifted my grip on his arm, sliding down to his wrist and forcing both of our hands down my stomach until it hit the band of my underwear. Spencer's body shook, his breath leaving him all at once when he played with the band.

"C-Can I?" he asked, "Can I touch you?"

Asking permission was adorable, but also silly given the context.

"Why else would I put your hand there?"

That was all he needed. Shimmying impossibly closer to me and eliciting a moan from himself in the process, Spencer's hand slowly lowered until it cupped my sex. My mind wasn't able to pick one part of him to focus on, and as a result I just felt lost in his embrace.