Spencer Reid | Oneshots

Santa's Gift 🔥 (E)

Summary: Reader asks her husband what he wants for Christmas.

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Content Warning: Spencer/Reader have a son, Christmas mention, mentions of the Santa story, established relationship, breeding kink, pregnancy, unprotected sex, trying for a baby

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People always write about the night before Christmas. The time when the children wait with bated breath while their parents scurry silently, secretly preparing. Placing new, unexpected gifts among the others. There is, of course, something magical about that night. Something beautiful and worthy of discussion.

But there was just as much to be said about the night that follows. The one where sleepy children wedge themselves between their parents to feel the fullest extent of love. Something just as beautiful, if not more so, about the quiet when it is the result of a day full of dreams come to life.

From his position on the couch beside me, Spencer stretched his arm over the back of the couch despite the tiny, squirming figure between us. Although his hand only reached far enough to brush ever-warm knuckles against my cheek, we hadn't minded the distance.

Because it was not empty. It was filled with something better than the two of us. A little boy with my hair and his eyes whose arms were stuffed with blankets pulled from his father's lap.

Spencer didn't mind. It gave him an excuse to come closer. But, like a true momma's boy — and his father's son — the little one also moved closer, inching forward until he was sprawled over my chest. I couldn't help but laugh at the feeling of tiny hands gripping my hair like reins as he found a comfortable place to rest.

My husband laughed, too, but his was quieter. A warmer, more tired sound to match the dancing flames ahead of us. The same ones that reflected in his eyes.

I reached out to him, resting my hand on his and trying to invite him closer. But he shook his head like the prideful, selfless man he had always been.

"There is more than enough room for both of you," I explained. Glancing down to find hazel eyes peering up at me in contemplation, I laughed. "Isn't that right?"

Our son just sighed.

"I guess so."

But as welcoming as the begrudging invitation was, Spencer did not budge. Only his hand moved, and it only did so to grab hold of mine with a newfound vigor. He clutched me like there was nothing else, like the warmth and love alone could finally be captured between our palms.

"Not yet," he explained with a soft crackling in his voice that would make even the roaring fire envious, "I just want to look at you two some more."

The sentiment was not new, but it brought tears to my eyes, nonetheless. The adoration pouring from him was nearly too much to bear if not for the greedy little boy butting his head against my chin when he'd lost too much of my attention.

"You know what, cuddle bug, I don't think you ever would've left mommy's belly if you'd had the choice," I chuckled before pressing a gentle kiss atop his head.

His reply came in the form of another heavy sigh. It wasn't until his father's hand snuck beneath the blankets and grabbed hold of little feet that he started to laugh along with his parents. We both knew we would miss the cuddling soon enough.

"You're a lot bigger than you were then," Spencer noted, all the while taking care to look me in the eye when he leaned forward to whisper, "I prefer you out here, though. Mommy used to hog all your attention."