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His Boy

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   There were some days that Morgan felt much more—hungry, he guessed the word was, but the hunger had less to do with Penelope's baking and more to do with grabbing Reid's wrist and taking him home right then, right that moment, and making a godawful racket. Days preceding outbursts like this were marked by an intense possessiveness from Morgan, anger that flared up every time someone smiled at Reid just a little too long, looked at him like they were imagining things they most certainly would never get, and (the worst trigger of all) touching him. That made Morgan's blood boil. And that was precisely why, upon meeting the BAU's latest transfer, Royale Trumann, Morgan developed an immediate and intense hatred for the man.

     He first noticed him standing by Reid's desk, smiling as he spoke. He looked amused that Reid was paying him only cursory attention, like it intrigued him that someone, unlike all the women around, wasn't falling at his feet to admire his killer jawline and sculpted features. Morgan's own jaw tightened. He narrowed his eyes and listened.

   "So you're 24," the man said, pushing a hand through his slicked back ash blonde hair, a bad boy smirk toying with his lips.

   "That is correct," Reid replied, his pen moving quickly across his notepad, jotting facts and notations faster than most minds could compute. He didn't really understand what this Royale guy was getting at, drilling him about his personal life, and to be honest, he didn't like the way he was looking at him—like he was something to eat, a dessert to sink his teeth into. It made him a little uncomfortable, and he wanted to focus.

   "Tell me, Reid, how did a pretty young thing like you end up working in a place like this?" Royale purred. Reid looked up, a retort about the value of personal space and his desire to work on his lips, but he stopped when he noticed that Royale was suddenly much closer than he thought he had been, leaning into Reid's face, close enough to share breath with him. Reid blinked, flushing pink, and wished to be anywhere else.

   "What...are you doing?" he murmured, feeling uncertain and embarrassed. What the hell? Royale grinned, producing a smile that looked a tad too sharp, and took Spencer's chin abruptly.

  "Let go of me—" Reid protested, pulling back, but Royale grabbed the back of his neck.

   "You have the most delicious looking lips," he murmured, dropping a wink. "And I really would like to get to know you more..." His gaze travelled lazily down the front of Reid's chest, resting somewhere on his thighs. "...intimately." Reid stared, feeling like for the first time in his life he truly understood what people meant by the phrase 'it makes my skin crawl'. And then, as suddenly as he'd been in Reid's face, he was out of it, a familiar bronze hand gripping Royale's shoulder and wrenching him upright, hard enough to twist steel.

   "I think you ought to go someplace else," Morgan said, his voice low and dangerous in a way that made Reid's chest tighten. His cheeks still burned from Royale's touch, and that intensified when the man cast him another confident smirk.

   "I dunno," he said, "maybe you ought to take your own advice. Baby Doll and I were getting on just fine, weren't we, babe?"

   "Don't call him that," Morgan snapped, his mocha eyes full of rage.

   "Morgan, please," Reid stood, trying to put himself between the two. Morgan getting into a fight at work would not lead anywhere good, even if Royale was way out of line, and Reid wasn't completely certain Hotch could keep Strauss from using it as an excuse to label Morgan as, at the very least, unfit to participate in field work, if not firing him outright. Uncertainties were bad, Reid did not like uncertainties, uncertainties meant trouble.

  "Why not? He's so gorgeous, I can't just call him Reid. No, no," Royale mused, using the opportunity of Reid standing to quite openly check out his ass. "I think Baby Doll suits him just fine." Reid looked quickly to Morgan, prepared to use himself to stop him from lunging at Royale, but he was instead surprised as Morgan grabbed his wrists and pulled him forward, earning a surprised yelp.

   "The difference between you and I," Morgan said, suddenly icily calm, trailing his hands slowly down Spencer's hips, maintaining frigid eye contact with his opponent, "is that with me, he welcomes this. My touch is exciting. And you—you make him shudder in all the wrong ways, little man. But if you do it right—" He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Reid's pretty throat, squeezing just hard enough on the smaller man's hip that, true to his word, he shivered involuntarily, a small gasp escaping his lips. Reid blushed furiously. He plays me like a damn violin, he thought, and oddly enough, he really couldn't even bring himself to care, because Morgan's hand wasn't stopping and it was venturing ever lower, exploring the curve of Reid's ass, grabbing him there. He hid his face in Morgan's neck, both mortified at himself and hopelessly attracted to his boyfriend.

   Royale scoffed, breaking eye contact for the first time, and a slow grin bloomed on Morgan's lips.

  "Thanks so much. And if you ever touch him again, I will find you and personally bust your kneecaps. Now if you'll excuse me, Dr. Reid and I will be in my office." And with that, he hefted Reid up to his waist like he weighed no more than a child and carried him off to the privacy of the darkened office room. As soon as the door closed, Reid's back was pressed to it with a startling bang, Morgan's strong hands grasping his hips like he thought letting go would spell doom for the both of them. Reid was almost certain there would be bruises later, and he did not mind the thought in the least.

   "You do not understand how angry I am right now," Morgan murmured into Reid's collarbone, grazing his teeth against his skin, making his heart race.

  "We're okay," he promised, a tad breathless, and Morgan looked up at him, a mirthful grin toying with his lips.

   "You didn't stop me from doing any of that," he observed, reattaching his lips to Spencer's jaw, his adventurous hands finding their way beneath Reid's shirt to travel the planes of his smooth, pale chest. Reid gave the tiniest of moans, biting his lip hard enough, he thought, to draw blood, and that was enough. Morgan attacked his lips and Reid melted into him, each mesmerized by the taste of the other. And if anyone thought to complain about the mild noise coming from Agent Morgan's office, they thought better of it when they remembered his earlier murderous demonstration.