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Between Wanting and Needing

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Emily puffed out a small, annoyed sigh before turning back to the mountain of paperwork that had been thrust into her desk earlier in the day. If she strained to listen, she could hear Hotch in his office, the patter of his feet while he paced — the way he raised his voice in frustration at the person on the other end of the call.

The end of her pen was ensnared between her teeth, eyes narrowing in frustration as she looked over the papers in front of her. She really needed to remember to take more notes in the field.

Hotch’s voice grew louder — closer, until it sounded like he was right outside her door. Emily shifted, legs rubbing together and god, she was wet just from his voice, the way he could use his stern tone to get away with anything.

There was a short rap on her office window, the door swinging open before she could even turn her head. Hotch pushed into her office, phone still up to the side of his face and annoyance etched into his features. Emily knew what this meant by the way his free hand was tugging at the buckle of his belt, jumped up and pushed his hand away and unfastened his belt, left it hanging as she pushed him to her desk chair.

He was palming his cock through his pants, a hard look of anger and lust in his eyes. She knelt, popping the button on his pants and nearly gasping when his cock sprung free from where it was tenting his boxers. He was already so hard, precome leaking from the head of his cock, and Emily couldn’t help herself from wrapping her hand around his length and tugging, jerking him slowly — a warning of sorts.

Hotch let out a frustrated huff, not at her but at the situation, mouth set in a thin line. He was watching her intently, the way her eyes darkened as her hand wrapped around his cock, the way her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She settled back on her heels and pulled her hair up, tying it in a ponytail and winking up at him.

“I’m going to have to call you back.”

His tone was strained, frustration still evident but laced with a deep desire, a lust in his eyes that he didn’t let reach his tone. Hotch hung up the phone, letting out a relieved groan as he shifted in the chair, opening his legs wider and pushing his trousers down to his knees.

He nearly died when he noticed, eyes trained on the cleavage of the red blouse Emily was wearing. Fuck, he loved her in red. With her hair up, he could see every flex and strain of her neck, the way her throat bobbed when she swallowed.


She hummed out an acknowledgement, eyes still trained on his cock as her hand twisted and pulled. Emily stilled her hand, looking up at Hotch through hooded eyes and unruly, overgrown bangs and fuck, she thought he was going to lose it right then.

“Yes, sir?”

Fuck, the groan Hotch let out was intoxicating. It spurred her on, lips parting as she took him into her mouth, hand still gripping at the base of his cock. She let her tongue run along the underside of his cock, practically felt him pulsing in her mouth.

“Goddamn Em, you’re such a tease.”

She looked up at him through her bangs, cheeks hollowed out as she bobbed on his cock, one hand gripping at his thigh for stability. He stroked her hair back, intoxicated by the way she looked on his cock.

His hand wrapped around her ponytail, pulling at the hair before pushing her down, forcing her down on his cock until she gagged. Her eyes watered and her breath caught, long fingernails digging into his thigh and god, it was so good. She swallowed around him, gagging again when she felt his cock jump and twitch.

“What a good girl, getting me so ready. Would you let me come on your perfect tits? Grip my cock with them and let me have my way?”

Emily couldn’t help the loud moan she let out, eyes rolling back in her head as she pulled back, releasing his cock with a soft pop. She almost hated herself for how eager and willing she was, eyes wide and god, her ponytail swishing when she nodded with so much enthusiasm she could see Hotch twitch.

“Of course, sir. Anything you want from me.”

She started to unbutton her blouse, eyes trained on Hotch’s hand that was slowly pumping his cock. He cleared his throat, free hand coming to stop Emily from unbuttoning her shirt any further and fuck, he could have come at just the sight.

Emily was sat back on her heels, red blouse unbuttoned to just under her breasts with a sliver of her black lace bra peeking out. If she had blown him any longer, he would be coming right now, painting the top of her milky tits with thick ropes of his come. He stopped himself from getting too excited, hand squeezing at the base of his own cock for a second before turning his attention back to Emily, the way her eyes were dark and lustful and so willing, so wanting.

“Keep it on — the bra and the blouse. You look so good, fuck, I love you in black but red? Red is your color.”

He enjoyed the way she flushed under his compliments, let out a low whine of a sound that she would never admit to. The way she pulled at her bra, adjusted it so he could fuck her tits, it was downright erotic. She wore a flush on her cheeks, chest heaving slightly and any other time Hotch would flip her over and fuck her from behind but not now, not this time.

This was all about him. He would fuck her later, let her ride his face.

“Yes, sir.”

There was a devilish look to her face, shaking her bangs out of her face as she knelt, moving Hotch’s hand off his cock and replacing it with her own. She pumped her fist up and down, swiping her thumb over the head of his cock and spreading his precome down his shaft.

Rising up on her knees, she knelt over Hotch and slipped his cock through the lace of her bra, letting him find a place between her breasts. She shot him a devilish smirk, tilting down and pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock, reveled in the way he bucked his hips and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Good girl. You have the most magnificent tits, made for fucking me. The perfect size.”

Emily gasped, feeling herself grow wet at the way he rocked against her. She pressed her breasts into his cock, sliding against him, letting Hotch set the pace. His hand wound in her ponytail for something to hold onto, other hand gripping the armrest of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.

His forehead was beaded with sweat, hips canting up into her and practically fucking her tits. She let her arms push into her breasts, giving Hotch more resistance to fuck into, dug her fingernails into his thighs in a way that would surely leave crescent shaped welts later.


Emily was always happy to oblige, spitting on the head of his cock and god, the choked moan he let out was positively sinful. It sent a shock to her core, panties surely ruined now. He was gliding against her breasts now, hips canting as she moved her chest against him.

Briefly, just for a second with a sex clouded mind, she considered pulling off and sinking down on his cock, hiking her skirt up and letting him rip her blouse to shreds. But no, she knew it would be better like this, Hotch’s hand in her hair and fucking up into her tits, coming all over her and god, the walk of shame out of the office would be so good — so filthy.

He was panting, hand moving to her shoulder as she moved her chest against his cock, silky skin of her breasts gripping and squeezing against him and fuck, the rough rub of the lace banding of her bra scraping against him in the most delicious way.

She knew he was getting close, could feel the twitch of his cock and the shake of his hands. His chest was heaving, one hand wound in her hair and one clutching her shoulder. His hips were twitching, trying to resist the urge to thrust against her chest.

“Don’t get my blouse all dirty, sir.”

Emily’s words sent Hotch into a frenzy, yanking her ponytail and pulling her head back. Her eyes rolled back in her head, lips parting and mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape. He pulled out of her bra, hissing at the gentle scrape of the lace against his cock, throbbing and so close to the edge he could taste it.

“I’ll come wherever I damn well please, darling. Don’t you know that by now?”

His tone mixed with the way his hand was still fisting her ponytail was enough for her to break her resolve, hand falling down to her panties and rubbing quick, tight circles over her clit through the black lace - a perfect match to the bra Hotch loved so much.

“Come on me, sir.”

She was breathless, head tilted back and mouth open, tongue darting out to lap at the underside of Hotch’s cock. Her free hand moved from his thigh, wrapping around his cock and sliding up and down his shaft rapidly. He was slick with precome and the remnants of her spit, and her panties were soaked just thinking about it.

“On your face?”

There was a twinge of question to his tone, underneath the pure lust and adoration. She nodded, hand sliding up and down his cock rapidly, mouth still hanging open with her tongue out. Hotch groaned, sliding to the edge of his seat and brushing the bangs from her sweat slicked forehead.

When his eyes landed on Emily’s hand, hastily circling her clit, hips twitching under her own fingers, Hotch felt himself falling over the edge. He tugged her hair, forced her head back as he shot rope after rope of thick, white come into her mouth, letting out a groan when she batted her eyelashes at him.

She waited patiently for Hotch to finish, closing her mouth and swallowing the come that landed in her mouth. Her face was covered, tongue snaking out to clean what she could, hand still circling between her legs and fuck, she was so close she could taste it.

Hotch pulled her hair again, wrapping her ponytail around his hand with a quick flick of the wrist. She let out a hiss, hips chasing her hand as she fell over the edge, a long, drawn out moan falling from her lips. Her hips stuttered against her hand, head falling to rest on Hotch’s leg, panting and whining as she clenched around nothing, coming down from her high.

“Such a pretty thing you are, Emily, painted with my come.” Hotch tilted her head up, wiping at her face with the handkerchief out of his pocket. “Got a little bit in your bangs, my sweet.”

She smiled up at him— a genuine, honest to god smile and fuck, she was destroyed. Her face was red, slick with sweat and smeared come and saliva, her hair messy and ponytail falling out, shirt unbuttoned and breasts spilling out of the cups of her lace bra. Hotch chuckled, eyes trained on her panties that could only be described as a soaked scrap of lace, skirt hiked up around her hips.

“God, fuck, that was so hot.” Her chest was heaving, eyes twinkling with mischief and amazement.

“Why don’t we get home and I’ll fuck you good and proper before we get you in a bath, wash that hair out?”

“Yes, sir.”