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“It’s a potent cocktail of drugs. A neuroinhibitory airborne substance that significantly increases norepinephrine levels while slowing cognitive function through—"
Spencer babbled on with his usual medical speak, hands waving like he was conducting a symphony. The team sat around the table in the designated conference room, the AC working on overdrive in the San Juan precinct. August was hot in Puerto Rico, and that summer was no different.
Morgan groaned, fanning himself with the case file. “Kid, enough. We’ve been at this for four days, and we finally have a lead. But I need you to break it down for the rest of us humans.”
Across the table, she smirked around her lollipop. “Morgan, that’s suggesting Reid is human like the rest of us, and we know damn well that’s not the case.”
“Cherry pop,” he teased, “be nice. It’s too hot to be mean to Pretty Boy.”
She disagreed. But when Morgan—and the team, for that matter—called her Cherry, she couldn’t help but soften. Having a nickname always made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, and for once, the humid weather wasn’t responsible. She was going on two years with the team, and the nickname had come within a week. Started by Morgan, naturally, who was amused by her proclivity for cherry lip balm and cherry lollipops—“they taste like cough medicine!” he always bemoaned—and encouraged by the rest of the team, especially after she tied a cherry stem with her tongue in record time during her second week.
Now, everyone called her the same.
Except Reid.
He just glared.
Because he was a dick.
Speaking of—Spencer glared. “In layman’s terms, our unsub is spraying a toxin in the air that…” He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his button-up. Heat, or embarrassment? “It’s triggering an intense hormonal imbalance. Essentially… jumpstarting a victim’s flight or fight response. But it appears to uh…” He sighed. “Target a person’s… baser instincts. And if said baser instincts are ignored, the body fights itself until it can’t fight anymore, and it goes into cardiac arrest.”
Emily tilted her head, eyes on the board. In the heat, she’d tied her hair into a pretty ponytail, and admittedly, Cherry found herself distracted by the curve of her slim neck. “That would explain the notes the unsub left with the bodies, as well as why the autopsies reported signs of sexual arousal but no intercourse—consensual or not.”
JJ rubbed her temples. “Sorry, maybe it’s the heat, but I’m confused. What does this drug do? I thought it was a hallucinogen. That’s what we based our profile on!”
“Oh my god.” Cherry laughed. “It’s sex pollen! It kills you unless you fuck.”
At the head of the table, Hotch sighed. “Cherry—”
“Hotch, come on! We’re talking about a drug that gets you horny. Is it really a big deal if I say fuck?” She looked around the table. “For the record, I’d fuck any of you if it meant not having a heart attack and dying of horniness. I’m pretty sure I’ve read this exact storyline in a book before."
Emily leaned across the table, eyebrow quirked. “What kind of books are you reading?”
“The fun kind—”
“Drivel,” Spencer muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“You read drivel. Trash. And it’s not a surprise.”
“Oh, shut up, Reid! My index finger has more fun than you do.”
Emily smirked. “Doing what exactly?”
Morgan raised his hand. “I’m interested too.”
“Let’s focus.” Hotch stood, shoulders rigid in that black polo. She loved when he slipped out of his usual button-ups and ties—it was always a treat, and one she didn’t get very often. And between his exposed forearms and the flush of his cheeks, she was certainly indulging today. “Reid, to Cherry’s point, this sounds like science fiction. Are we sure it’s even possible? Maybe we’re interpreting these results wrong, or—”
“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Officer Torres stood in the doorway, jaw clenched. “Palo de Jazmín.”
Spencer looked around the room, clearly feeling the need to explain—because God forbid he let someone else do it. “Styrax portoricensis is a flowering tree endemic to Puerto Rico. It’s exceedingly rare and considered critically endangered. It can only be found in two places, the closest being—"
“El Yunque.” Torres crossed his arms. “What Dr. Reid is not sharing is that Palo de Jazmín trees produce a star-shaped fruit, and it is widely believed that these fruits are transformative, that they enhance carnal pleasure tenfold. Lovers are known to search Sierra de Cayey and Sierra de Luquillo in El Yunque in the spring and summer in hopes of locating the trees, and its fruit. Old tales tell us that to consume one together would result in unworldly lovemaking."
“That… would explain the one organic ingredient the lab couldn’t pinpoint. But fruit doesn’t create a lust frenzy—”
“How would you know?” Cherry asked, smirking. “Have you eaten it?”
He glared. “I haven’t, but—”
“But what? A drug cocktail causing horniness or a heart attack is believable, but not a fruit aphrodisiac?” When Spencer only gritted his teeth, she turned to Torres. They’d spent the last few days eying each other up, and today, he looked especially handsome with dark waves falling into his big, brown eyes. “Alejandro, if couples are searching for the fruit every spring and summer, is it possible that our unsub would’ve been able to find some?”
“Yes, especially if he’s from the island and familiar with the terrain.”
Spencer straightened, gaze flicking across the lab results at record speed. “Wait a minute. There was mention of insect residue in the tox screen, but I assumed that was from where the body was found. But it’s not. It’s venom from orb-weaver spiders, which aren’t poisonous, but a bite can cause swelling and discomfort. You factor that in with the fruit from Palo de Jazmín trees and—”
“Tourists.” Emily sat up. “All of our victims were tourists. And where are tourists going in Puerto Rico that our unsub would be incredibly familiar with, enough so to capture spider venom and find endangered flowering trees? El Yunque, aka the only tropical rainforest within the US forest system.”
Rossi gently knocked his fist into the table, his usual sign of excitement. “That’s it. Let’s get Garcia looking up park rangers and anyone who works in the forest system who fits our profile. They’d have intimate knowledge of the vegetation and wildlife, and a front row seat to a buffet of tourists for their picking. Someone sets him off, he follows them back into San Juan, and bam.”
“Bam, indeed.” Cherry grinned and stood, joining Torres by the door as Hotch called Garcia with their newest request. “Join me for coffee?”
He smiled. “I’d love to.”
And as she slipped out of the conference room, she ignored Spencer’s dark glare—but she did catch Emily’s eye, offering a playful wink.
With any luck, they’d catch their unsub that night, and she could at least spend a day enjoying everything San Juan had to offer—like the very handsome lead detective on this case. Because she needed something to take the edge off.
Between Spencer’s rough glare, Emily’s delicate neck, and Hotch’s muscled forearms, she had way too many off-limits fantasies bubbling in her overheated little brain.
Three hours later, they had a name, and forty-five minutes after that, their team of seven and Officer Torres arrived at the staff entrance of El Yunque. The skies were an ominous gray, the kind that had goose bumps peppering across her arms and chest.
Or perhaps that was the close proximity to so many gorgeous people around her.
God, she couldn’t wait for the day to be over.
Unfortunately, while park ranger Luis Medina was scheduled to work that afternoon, the team received mixed information on where he was. One colleague had spotted him off the Tradewinds Trail, another had seen him on his usual work route, a pair of tourists had spotted him on an access road, and his cell phone was pinging on a trail accessible only by foot—on the other side of the forest.
With no straightforward lead, the team split up. Rossi, JJ, Morgan, and Torris took the locations of the first three sightings—all within a four-mile loop—while Hotch, Emily, Reid, and Cherry drove to the furthermost point of El Yunque accessible by car and then took off on foot.
Which, rankly, was ridiculous, and Cherry reminded them as much.
“Why isn’t Torres with us?” she hissed for the fourth time as they pushed through a copse of overgrown trees. “Or a ranger for that matter! They know this landscape! We don’t!”
“We can’t get the other rangers involved in case they’re empathetic to Medina,” Hotch murmured, gun at the ready. “You know that. As for Torres—”
“Reid scared him off,” Emily mused. “He’s been a meanie to him since we got to San Juan. I think he’s jealous.”
“I have not been mean to him!” Spencer snapped, failing to keep his voice down. “And jealous?! Jealous of what?!”
Emily smirked. “I don’t know, Reid. What’s there to be jealous of? How gorgeous he is? How sexy he sounds speaking Spanish? How Cherry has just been hanging off his every word—”
“Why do I care what she does?!” To emphasize his point, he shifted his glare from Emily to Cherry. “Besides, you’re the starry-eyed slack-jawed loser always undressing her with your eyes!”
“Takes one to know one, Reid.”
Cherry bit her lip, because this was new. Emily attracted to her? Spencer attracted to her? She and Emily were always plenty flirtatious with each other, but she didn’t think it’d ever surpass playful teasing—like her relationship with Morgan. And Spencer was an aggravating pain in her ass and yet…
Even she couldn’t deny how attractive he was, quirks and all.
“Enough,” Hotch barked. “We need to focus.”
And shit, Hotch was never one to be left out, because that tone? That jumping muscle in his jaw?
Unbearably hot, too.
Ugh. Again: she couldn’t wait for this case to be over.
“Right there!” Spencer pointed to red rope tied around a particularly short tree. “There’s the marker Torres was talking about. The Palo de Jazmín should be sixteen paces west and four paces north from this point, and if we’re right, Medina may be collecting the last of the fruit harvest before the tree goes dormant in the fall.”
Hotch nodded. “Reid, lead the way. And from this point on, silence.”
Soft footsteps brought them through the rainforest, only the occasional slide of boot against dirt or ankle against twig echoing through the air. Spencer weaved them around the landscape, until a single notable tree with star-shaped green fruits came into view. But more importantly—a familiar face in a park ranger uniform filling a backpack.
Christ, how many doses of this stuff did he intend to make?!
But even with Medina facing the tree, he must’ve sensed the danger. He turned, ever so slowly.
It should’ve been an easy takedown. Four agents with guns versus one park ranger with a sack of fruit. And yet, everything went to hell. The fruit went flying and she lunged for Medina, but when Emily lunged after her, a cloud of white emerged from his backpack. Emily grabbed her arm and practically flung her in the other direction. Medina latched onto her ankle to stop her, aided by the gun he drew from his waistband. But before he even had it cocked and ready to go, a single gunshot rang out.
Medina collapsed. Cherry dropped onto Emily and groaned. Hotch rushed over, and Reid remained about two feet away, gun still pointed, swallowing as he stared at the man he’d just shot.
And that’s when the rain started.
“Are you two okay?” Hotch asked, crouching to where they laid. “Did any of the substance get on you?”
Emily shook her head. “No, no, I pulled us out before we inhaled. We should be ok.” Brushing dirt from her back, she turned to where Medina bled out. “Is he dead?”
“Reid got him in the chest so… if not yet, soon.”
As if prompted, Spencer finally joined the others. Swallowing, he dropped to his knees and checked Medina for a pulse. He shook his head.
Hotch exhaled. “He was pulling his weapon. What’s done is done.” Into his walkie talkie, he said, “Medina is down, I repeat, Medina is down.”
Static, then Rossi: “Good work, team. We’ll meet you back at the—Torres? What are you—”
Panting, Torres cried, “Is it raining on your side?”
“Yes—”
But Torres cut Hotch off with, “How much?”
Hotch’s brows furrowed. “It’s starting to come down pretty hard which isn’t ideal but—”
“You’re right beside Rio Mameyes!” Torres yelled, the static sharpening every word. “The flash floods in that area are deadly, Agent Hotchner. You need to clear out now! The forecast updated and it’s not good!”
“We’re at least twenty minutes from the SVU—”
“There’s no time,” Spencer mumbled, staring up at the gray skies and falling rain. “We’re in a low-lying area and the downpour is starting. The velocity of a flood surge can tear out trees, destroy bridges, and kill us within a matter of minutes. We’re talking water reaching heights of thirty feet or more.”
Hotch gritted his teeth, rain soaking his face and drooping dark hair into his eyes. “Torres, what do we do?”
“If you found Medina by the Palo de Jazmín, there is a research base approximately a quarter mile east, away from the river.” The walkie talkie sputtered, as ominous as the storm clouds. “It’s built to withstand flash floods. Your best bet is to take shelter there, but you must move fast!”
Emily stood, helping Cherry to her feet. “Hotch, what about Medina?”
“We leave him.” Hotch glanced at the body, and then the water already rushing across the forest floor, soaking their boots. “Either we find him again, or he enjoys a natural burial.”
“Dios los bendiga,” Torres muttered. “Be fast.”
Hotch turned to Spencer. “You’re the human compass. Lead the way.”
Spencer ran ahead, leading them east. They followed, trudging through intense rainfall and pooling water, now up to their calves. Three minutes into their mad dash, Cherry realized she was falling behind the others. Her legs weren’t working, inexplicably slow and sluggish, that pins and needles feeling after sleeping the wrong way. Had she stepped on something? Was it anxiety, fear, remorse from leaving a dead man to be washed away?
In fact, all of her felt… unbalanced. Despite the cool rain, she was sweating all over, and her breath was coming out in stuttered pants. Her ears rang, her hands shook, her chest tightened—
“Hotch!” Emily cried. “Cherry is falling behind—”
The words were barely out before Hotch doubled back and threw her over his shoulder, returning back to his pace with Emily, Spencer a few steps ahead. Cherry curled into his back, burying her face in the space between his shoulder blades. Rain, earth, but… something so distinctly man.
She whimpered and smelled again.
Yeah.
She liked that smell.
“There it is!” Emily shouted.
By the time they found the tiny research base, the flooding had shifted from inconvenient to terrifying. Water rushed rapidly from the river, spilling into the forest floor and pulling anything loose with it. It’d reached thigh level, and she had no doubt that within another couple minutes, they’d be swimming, not running.
And after that?
She didn’t want to think about it.
Through the torrential downpour, Spencer managed to pick the lock, and the four of them spilled into the tiny cabin. Hotch set her down, and as she settled on the cool wooden floor, she struggled to keep her eyes open. Brown walls, brown floors, not much bigger than their conference room. There was a little kitchenette, a door leading to presumably a bathroom, and a table with four chairs beside a white board, the display labeled Iguaca and covered in pictures of green birds. On the other wall, there was a full-size bed, and a wardrobe stuffed with outdoor equipment.
Hotch breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling as he spoke into the walkie talkie. “We made it. What now?”
“With the forecast and how long it usually takes for flood levels to dissipate,” Torres replied, “we won’t be able to send help for you until the morning. We’ll let you know if the rain clears sooner.”
Hotch squeezed his eyes shut. “Affirmative. Dave, everyone is ok on your side?”
“Now that we know you four are safe, yes. Just relax, ok? Enjoy the sounds of the rainforest, maybe take a nap to the coquí frogs singing their song.”
“Likewise.”
“Nah, the rest of us are going to have a much-deserved drink back at the hotel. We’re leaving the visitor center now. Stay safe and we’ll see you in the morning.”
Hotch sighed and set the walkie talkie down. He turned to the others. “You heard Torres. We’re stuck here until the morning. So… I’d suggest everyone get out of your wet clothes.” As he shrugged out of his soaking wet FBI vest, he added, “Reid, figure out if we have any source of fire or heat to speed up drying. Prentiss, you do a sweep for water and food. Cherry—”
But she didn’t hear his command.
Not when everything went black.
Spencer panted, his heart walloping wildly in his chest as a half-dressed Hotch set Cherry on the mattress. He rushed to the edge of the bed, staring down at her unconscious form. “She was slowing down while we were running. Could she have tripped and hit her head?”
“I didn’t see her fall,” Emily replied, frowning. “Maybe it’s anxiety? I feel like I remember her saying she wasn’t a huge fan of bodies of water. Seeing the flooding could’ve spooked her.”
Hotch rubbed his jaw, teeth clenched tight. “I don’t know. Let’s start with getting her out of these wet clothes. Prentiss, can you…?”
Spencer scoffed. “Should she really be the one undressing her?”
“Duh,” Emily said. “I’m a woman, too.”
“A woman who wants to—to—to have sex with her!”
Emily smirked. “In case you missed it, Reid, your little cherry pop has a thing for the ladies too. How did she describe herself a few months ago? An—”
“—equal opportunity lover,” Hotch muttered, unzipping his pants. “Both of you, just shut up and focus. Get undressed, and Prentiss, get her out of her wet clothes. We need to confirm she’s ok and let’s start by making sure she didn’t get bitten or trip while we were out there.”
Grumbling, Spencer turned to the white board, preferring to stare at the pictures of the iguaca, the beautiful green parrot one of the success stories of bringing a species back from the brink of extinction. Anything to distract him from the cool breeze pebbling goose bumps on his skin as he kicked off his boots and pants, followed by tugging his vest off.
As he unbuttoned his sopping shirt, he heard Hotch digging through the kitchenette, probably in search of water. But then the mattress creaked, Cherry whimpered, and Emily choked out, “Hotch!”
Hotch poked his head out of the cabinet, where he squatted in nothing but black briefs. “Everything ok? I’m looking for pain meds in case she fell.”
“Um…” Emily laughed roughly. “I think she was hit.”
“Impossible. Reid fired one shot, and Medina never got—”
“I’m not talking about with a bullet.”
Spencer blinked, and the second he finally got his shirt off, he glanced towards the bed—right as Hotch appeared at the end, too. Both women were stripped down to their undergarments—Cherry in a pretty pink sports bra and panties, the cotton leaving nothing to the imagination, while Emily wore a skintight red tank and black panties.
And while the state of undress of both women made him lightheaded, it was the position that had him nearly on his knees. Cherry straddled Emily’s thigh and held her wrists down, her perfect body grinding back and forth.
Her whimpering whines echoed in the small cabin.
Emily exhaled shakily. “I just got her shirt off when she jumped me. I didn’t think she had that kind of strength in her.”
When Cherry sped up her grinding, throwing her head back with a wail, Spencer swallowed and dug his nails into his palms. Surely this wasn’t happening. Surely the woman he hated but touched himself while thinking about every night was not humping Emily like her life depended on it—
Hotch cleared his throat, studying the ceiling like the wood paneling had the answers. “O—ok. I can pull her off you, and then we can determine—”
Emily groaned. “D—don’t do that. I uh…” Cherry kissed her jaw and neck, before burying her face in her chest. “I think I got hit too. Less directly than her but still hit.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Believe me…” Emily stuttered out, grabbing Cherry head and guiding her south. “I can tell. It’s like you’re being ripped apart from the inside until—YES!”
“Oh my god,” Spencer whined, unable to look away.
Cherry had settled between Emily’s legs, lying flat on her belly with her ass in the air. Her panty-clad hips swung side to side as she worked, her mouth relentless between Emily’s thighs.
Hotch squeezed his eyes shut and turned to Spencer. “Reid, do we—what do we—” He took a deep breath, and Spencer couldn’t recall his Unit Chief ever looking so rattled. “Medina’s drug. What happens if we separate them?”
When a twin pair of moans echoed from the bed, Spencer tried to get a better view, but Hotch blocked him. “Hotch—”
“Focus.”
He gulped. “I—I don’t know. We only have a tox screen and what happened to the other victims to go off of.”
“Then use your best judgement, Reid! You’re supposed to be a genius!”
“I—I don’t know! I—I—we hypothesized that sex would calm the adrenaline rush which would avoid cardiac arrest but—”
“But what?”
“But the fruit—that’s a wild card I know nothing about. Especially if it actually does what Torres claimed it could do.”
Hotch locked his jaw. “What do we do?”
“Well, we um… we know the absence of sex leads to death. So… logic would dictate we try… sex… since the alternative is worse. Even if we don’t know the true outcome.”
“And what is it about sex?” Hotch asked, each word rough. “Is it… the orgasms? The sensation of skin on skin?”
“I—I don’t—”
“Can two women achieve the desired affect alone?”
He knew his cheeks must’ve been bright red. “I—I don’t…” He gulped. “I don’t know!” When he took a step forward, Hotch stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Hotch?”
“No. Just… let them be. You know they’re attracted to each other. Let them try to work this out of their systems.”
“Are you serious?” he cried. “You just expect us to—to—sit here and watch?!”
“No. I expect you to read up on those parrots or start a fire. Pretend they’re not there.”
“Hotch! They’re—they’re—look at them!”
“I’m well aware of what’s going on, Reid—”
“And you’re not affected?!”
Hotch gritted his teeth. “Reid, I need you keep your head on straight—”
But when Emily cried, “Cherry!” with a gasp that had his cock hardening in his briefs, he wondered if he'd be able to control either of his heads.
Uh-huh.
Uh-huh.
Mhm… perfect.
She hummed in delight, burying her tongue deeper into the slick warmth. Just what she needed. A pretty pussy to feast on, a pair of toned thighs tightening around her head, a set of fingers buried in her hair… The only thing that would make the afternoon better would be a big dick inside her. Whimpering, she jutted her ass out more, desperate for attention.
Where was Hotch? Where was Spencer? She’d seen Hotch’s thick thighs. Spencer’s long fingers. Surely one of them could help her, or—or—or—both.
Her eyes crossed.
Both.
Now that sounded fun.
But first. She ran her tongue up and down Emily’s cunt, bouncing between her engorged clit and her fluttering entrance. Blowing into the heated skin, she pressed a finger inside, followed quickly by another.
“Emily,” she gasped, flicking at her clit, her fingers plunging in and out of her tight heat, “I think I found my new favorite flavor of lollipop.”
Beneath her, Emily cried out, her grip tightening in her hair. “Cherry, fuck. Just—god keep going. Your tongue is unreal.”
She giggled and zigzagged her tongue, starting with gentle taps at her clit and moving to her hole, which she lavished as her fingers continued their brutal pace. “It’s all the candy.” Whining, she licked again. “But you taste better. Taste so good, Em. Wanna live between your legs.”
Another whine echoed in the room, one she was pretty sure didn’t come from her or Emily. Blinking out of her haze, she poked her head up and peered over her shoulder. Hotch sat at the table, his head in his hands. Spencer sat beside him, practically vibrating in his seat. Jaw clenched, wet curls a mess atop his head.
She whimpered and licked the wetness from her lips, before returning to Emily. But she kept wiggling her hips, crying out, desperate for someone to make the pain go away. Why wouldn’t they help her? Didn’t they see how tight and wet her panties were on her skin, rubbing against her clit? Every inch of her skin burned, and while gorging herself on Emily had sated some of her need, it wasn’t enough, not when her pussy fluttered in desperation.
And yet… she still couldn’t stop, couldn’t cry, couldn’t beg Emily to help her out. All she could focus on was that delicious feminine slick beneath her tongue, Emily quivering and gasping in need. And when Emily’s thighs tightened around her head and her hands tightened in her hair, she still didn’t stop, sucking and fingering her through the high.
Emily sobbed, her walls sucking Cherry’s fingers in deep. Her back arched, her heels dug into Cherry’s back, and with a breathtaking moan that rivaled the coquí frogs song in beauty, her orgasm rattled the bed as she shook.
Cherry could only whimper, continuing to mouth at her cunt, her eyes rolling back with every subsequent taste. Her hands tightened on Emily’s legs, rough enough that she would probably leave bruises, but she couldn’t help it.
Nothing was going to stop her.
Even if the rest of her body demanded other attention.
Even if the tears burned her cheeks, if her hips thrashed wildly, if her aching pussy dripped with needed, she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t let go, she couldn’t—couldn’t—couldn’t—
“H—Hotch,” Emily gasped, “she—she’s crying and I—I can’t—”
Spencer straightened in his seat, digging his fingers into his knees. If he moved his hands anymore, he risked coming in his underwear, and given their current lack of privacy and clothes, he really wanted to avoid that.
On the bed, Cherry remained with her face between Emily’s thighs, her sobbing whines echoing in the tiny cabin. Even from the distance, Spencer could see her pretty pink tongue prodding at pretty pink flesh and he—he couldn’t—
“This is unbearable,” he cried, and he was pretty sure tears were streaming down his face. “Hotch, please—”
Hotch took a slow, deep breath. “Prentiss, what’s wrong?”
“She’s crying—” Emily moaned, back arching as she further embedded her hands in Cherry’s hair, “—and grinding her hips. She clearly needs help but she’s surprisingly strong and I can’t flip us to do something about it—CHERRY! Oh my god—”
Now he was definitely crying. “I’ve been tortured you know,” he croaked, every inch of him shaking as he stared at her perfect ass grinding in the air, desperate for attention. To her soaked pink panties, plastered to her skin. “And somehow this genuinely feels worse.”
Gritting his teeth, Hotch stood, and—Spencer scoffed. His Unit Chief very much was affected, even if he was playing the chivalrous gentleman and pretending not to watch.
“I’ll take care of it,” Hotch muttered, slow steps bringing him to the edge of the bed, “and hopefully that will—”
“What?” Spencer cried, jumping to his feet. “Why do you get to do it?!”
Over his shoulder, Hotch sent him the type of glare he associated with interrogating unsubs. “Reid, not now. I’m going to bring her to orgasm with my fingers, and with any luck, that’ll calm her down—”
“I can do it! Let me do it—”
“I have more experience,” Hotch barked, “and it’s my team, meaning she’s my responsibility. Now sit down and shut up, or I’m going to lock you in the bathroom if you can’t control yourself.”
When Hotch kneeled on the bed and peeled those soaking pink panties to her knees, Spencer buried his face in his hands, his tears wetting his fingers as much as his precum wetting his briefs.
No bullet, no toxin, and yet he was going to die in that cabin.
“Cherry,” Hotch said, his gruff voice tickling her ear, “I’m going to make you feel better, ok?”
She whined, nodding frantically as she wiggled her hips. Emily stared down at her and smiled, brushing hair out of her face. Between the soft gesture and the calloused fingertips sliding up the backs of her thighs, she gladly returned to her favorite place between Emily’s legs.
But one rough swipe of fingers over her clit and she wailed, her entire body going taut. Emily whispered her name and palmed her hair, encouraging her to relax. Behind her, Hotch exhaled, his breath coating her naked back and dotting goose bumps across her skin.
“Is this alright?” he asked, rubbing her clit, her pussy so wet he struggled to keep his fingers in the right place. “Do you want me to keep going?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she sobbed, shaking her hips. “Need you, need it, oh please, please, please—”
Another whine echoed behind her. Whimpering, she struggled to raise her head up. Spencer stared back at her, cheeks red and eyes wide. He swallowed, his tongue poking out to wet his lips.
He looked so pretty like that.
Why couldn’t she have all of them at once?
The fingers at her clit sped up, causing her legs to shake. Hotch grunted, and when a thick finger slipped inside her, she cried out, thrusting back into his hand. A rough curse broke his lips, and he immediately added another digit. Two thick fingers fucked into her while his thumb frantically circled her clit. Her eyes crossed, and she continued moving into his every ministration, especially as that familiar fire built in her belly, beginning to spread to every inch of her skin.
Emily petted her hair and cooed her name. Hotch added another finger and whispered, “Fuck.”
Spencer let out a choking sob behind her and—
That delicious burn consumed, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she locked up, crying into Emily’s delicious cunt as she fucked into Hotch’s hands, not willing to let go of him. He fucked her through it, his other hand teasing the small of her back, just like Emily played with her hair.
And when her orgasm subsided and Hotch withdrew, taking a moment to run his slick fingers over her clit, she whimpered, knowing what she wanted next. Or rather, what she needed next. Because if she didn’t get a big dick immediately, she might just walk into the flooding rainforest and let her body float away.
That’s how dire this was, how desperate how body sang for male flesh. She’d had Emily quivering on her tongue, a taste she’d never grow sick of but now… now she needed something else.
With one final open-mouthed kiss to Emily’s cunt, she sat up and turned to Hotch. He remained on the bed on his knees, swallowing when he noticed her attention. Those dark brown eyes of his were entirely consumed by black and based on the outline of his cock in his briefs, he needed her like she needed him.
“Emily,” she whined, “help me.”
Emily sat up on her elbows, her eyes just as black. “What do you want, cherry pop?”
She whimpered. “A different kind of lollipop.”
“Yeah…” Emily bit her lip. “I could go for that, too.”
He didn’t even manage a blink before they had him on his back.
Spencer looked away for one second. One painfully long moment to scream into his hands and try not to punch a hole in the wall. And when he looked back, he discovered his Unit Chief on the bed, naked as the day he was born, a woman on either side of him.
“Hotch!” Spencer cried. “What the fuck?!”
Hotch groaned, eyes fluttering shut. He gripped Emily’s head in one hand, and Cherry’s in the other, encouraging them both on as they…
Fuck.
As they licked his cock.
“They—” Hotch hissed. “They just grabbed me. Prentiss was right. Cherry is stronger than she looks.”
Her name seemed to snap her out of her haze. Mouth around Hotch’s cock, she glanced at Spencer, eyes glassy. Taking Hotch as deep as she could, she whimpered, before dropping a hand between her legs.
She never once looked away from Spencer.
He gulped.
He wasn’t going to last much longer. And with Hotch participating… he wasn’t sure what was stopping him, either.
Uh-huh.
Uh-huh.
Mhm… perfect.
She giggled around Hotch’s cock, moaning as the blunt head nearly choked her. He was just as big as she imagined, thick and long with a vein pattern that should’ve been patented by the sex toy industry. And the deeper she took him, the more the sensation curled her toes. But before she gagged, she pulled him out with a whine and pointed his cock towards Emily.
“Your turn,” she said, peppering kisses down the base and mouthing at the sac. Hotch groaned, his belly wobbling, and she couldn’t help but trace her fingers over the scars and hair on his stomach. “He feels so good when he hits deep.”
Emily hummed in agreement, accepting his cock with a kiss to the tip before swallowing him inch by inch. Enamored by Emily’s work, she slipped her fingers through her damp hair and collected the loose strands into a ponytail. The second Emily surfaced for air, hiccupping as Hotch’s cock slapped into her cheek, Cherry pushed her right back.
“You look so pretty, Em,” she said, pulling Emily back by her hair only to push her down again. When Emily’s nose hit Hotch’s belly, he cursed, Emily gagged, and she giggled. “So sexy with his big dick in your mouth.”
“Jesus Christ,” Hotch groaned, arms flailing on the bed as he reached for whatever he could get a hold of. With the moving bodies, it was Emily’s thigh, and her forearm. “I need—”
But he silenced when Emily surfaced and cupped Cherry’s cheeks, bringing her in for a rough kiss. She moaned into Emily’s mouth, delirious with the lingering taste of pussy and cock. Her hands were just as grabby as Hotch’s, moving frantically until one wrapped around his throbbing base, while the other landed between Emily’s legs. She twisted her clit, Emily cried out, and Hotch let out another curse.
And through her haze of need, through her settling on her belly at Hotch’s hip, Emily on the other side, through her fingers desperate between her own legs, she had the forethought to glance over her shoulder.
Because there was someone else in that room. Someone who was usually incapable of silence, and now, hadn’t uttered a word in nearly five minutes. At least… she thought he hadn’t. It was entirely possible with Emily and Hotch at her fingertips, she hadn’t heard him. And to be fair, she usually spent a lot of her time trying to block out his voice.
Not then and there.
Spencer remained at the table, hands shaking at his sides. His gray briefs were tented, and while the lingering wetness from the rain could’ve been responsible for the damp material, she knew it was him watching them. Darkening eyes, clenching jaw, trembling thighs.
Whimpering, she spread herself apart with her fingers. His breath caught, his gaze jumping between her soaking wet pussy and her eyes. He swallowed, she wiggled her hips, and then he finally stood.
Pleased with the echoing footsteps, she turned back to Hotch, taking turns with Emily at his cock. They’d trail their tongues in matching movements, lapping from his sensitive head all the way to his sac, occasionally meeting in the middle for a wet kiss. Every journey had his belly jumping and their Unit Chief muttering a hoarse “fuck” that curled her toes.
And just as she happily took him deep again, the bed dipped. A shaky breath tattooed her spine, followed by the drag of smooth skin. Based on the puffs of warm air—a nose. The tickle made her giggle, and Spencer whined into her skin, pressing a hot kiss to her lower back.
“Cherry,” he stuttered out, “I’m going to make you feel good again, ok?”
She moaned around Hotch’s cock, eyes fluttering shut. “Mmkay.” Wrapping her hand around him, she pulled off and directed his cock back towards Emily, who happily swallowed him inch by inch. She glanced over her shoulder at Spencer. “If you’re going to call me Cherry, can I call you Pretty Boy?”
He gripped her thighs roughly, his fingers digging into her skin. “Call me whatever you want.”
“Pretty Boy.” She wiggled her hips. “Too much talking. Need you.”
That warm breath tickled her cunt, and then—
Uh-huh.
Uh-huh.
Mhm… perfect.
At the first swipe of tongue on her clit, she sobbed, head dropping to Hotch’s thigh. He petted her hair, his voice wavering as Emily continued sucking his dick like her life depended on it. And considering whatever the fuck they’d encountered in the rainforest—Medina’s lust cocktail—perhaps it did.
“Fuck, I’m not—” His head thrashed back into the pillows, his fingers tightening in both her and Emily’s hair. “I can’t—I’m going to—”
Emily hollowed her cheeks as she sucked, before pulling back to kiss the tip. “Then cum, Hotch.”
As his choking cries and the gurgling sounds of Emily taking him deep echoed, Spencer was relentless between Cherry’s legs. He sucked and he licked and he flicked, and just as he had out in El Yunque, he didn’t need a compass to tell her where to focus. His tongue prodded at her quivering hole, and when she cried out from the attention, he pressed it inside. Her back arched, her toes curled, and she dug her teeth into Hotch’s thigh to steady her shaking body.
Apparently, that was all he needed. Hotch cried, “fuck!”, both hands at Emily’s hair as he came. Belly shaking, his hoarse moans echoed as Emily swallowed every last drop. She hiccupped as his cock dropped from her mouth, but she immediately pulled him back to kiss up and down the base.
“Re—Reid,” Cherry cried. She reached behind her, managing to bury her fingers in his wet curls as she grinded into his face. “Wanna cum like Hotch. Please, please, please—”
“Always so bossy.” Spencer spit on her cunt, immediately rubbing it into her arousal. “And so wet and needy... fuck. I thought I was going to die.”
“I’m going to die if I don’t cum,” she wailed, and honestly, she wasn’t even exaggerating given the story with their unsub. “Need those Pretty Boy lips to actually be useful for once—”
Her words died in her throat with another sob as he mouthed at her cunt, practically swallowing every inch of her flesh between his hot lips. Teeth scrapped, a tongue poked, and then he settled back at her clit, prodding until she was shaking and sobbing beneath him.
“Is that useful?” he growled, spitting on her once again. “What about this?”
When he sucked at her clit, she screamed and—oh. That wasn’t just her screaming. Bleary-eyed, she shifted her attention to the other two people on the bed. At some point, Emily had landed on her back with Hotch between her legs, and just like Spencer, he was going to town. Eyes shut, tongue frantic, fingers fucking.
Cherry whimpered. “So pretty. Isn’t Em so pretty?” She glanced at Spencer, wiggling her hips. “Need your fingers.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I—”
He gently bit at her clit, and following a few lapping licks, she screamed, convulsing on the bed as the orgasm tore through her. Emily reached over and petted her hair. “That’s it, cherry pop. Looks like Reid’s finally getting what he wanted.”
The attention at her cunt didn’t stop—not initially. Spencer continued licking through her arousal, like he couldn’t get enough of the taste. But within a few minutes, his rough grip slid to her hips, and he flipped her on the bed, depositing her on her back beside Emily.
He kneeled between her legs. Mouth slick, he glared at Emily. “Shut up. I could say the same to you.”
“Actually…” Emily smirked and grabbed his wrist, tugging him forward. He caught himself with his other hand, caging Cherry beneath him. “I haven’t had a taste yet.”
With one hand in Hotch’s hair, pushing his face deeper between her legs, Emily buried the other in Spencer’s wet curls. Then, like with a dog on a leash, she directed him right to her mouth, where she captured his lips in a bruising kiss. Spencer groaned, Cherry whimpered, and Hotch peeked up from between Emily’s legs, dark eyes on the other three.
“Guess everyone is finally getting along,” he muttered, before returning his attention to Emily’s cunt.
Emily moaned, tugging at both men’s hair. And after a few seconds of her tongue tangling with Spencer’s, she pulled away with a smirk, a trail of saliva following. Then, she turned to Cherry and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.
“You taste so sweet, cherry pop,” Emily teased, running her thumb across her bottom lip. “Even when I’m sampling from a sourpuss like Spencer.”
“For a sourpuss, he’s very good with his mouth,” she replied, gasping as he roughly shoved her legs open. “And he has a big—”
“—cock.” Emily nodded appreciatively as Spencer dropped his briefs. “I’m impressed, Spence.”
Spencer grumbled, tracing his cock through Cherry’s pussy, starting at her engorged clit and ending at her fluttering hole. “You should know after years of working together that I exceed in all metrics. Intelligence, height—”
“—ability to babble,” Hotch mumbled, his words lost in Emily’s thighs locking around his head, and her gasping moans.
“—and my… endowment.” Satisfied with his tangent, Spencer gripped the underside of her thighs, pushing her legs into the air, and surged forward, entering her inch by delicious inch. “F—f—fuck. Oh my god—”
“Look,” Emily mused, slipping her hand between Cherry’s legs to rub at her clit, “an IQ of 187 silenced by one second of pussy. Isn’t it incredible?”
“It is,” he whined, withdrawing until only the tip remained, “it really is.”
And once he slammed back inside her to the hilt, she screamed, head thrown back into the pillow. The bed shook with his every thrust, his fingers tightening in her thighs. She sobbed from the pleasure, because it just felt so fucking good, especially with Emily rolling her clit between her fingers, and moaning into her mouth as she kissed her and—and—and—
“Oh my god,” Spencer whined. “She’s already cumming. I—fuck—holy shit—”
It might’ve been the masculine grunt of Hotch between Emily’s thighs, being choked by the sheer force of her pleasure as he ate her out. It might’ve been the pouring rain, or the shaking bed, or the sensation of finally having a dick inside her after what felt like hours of desperation. It might’ve been Emily cumming beside her, back arching as she cried out, Hotch’s hair tight between her fingers.
Or, it might’ve been finally getting the upper hand on Spencer Reid, silencing his stupid know-it-all attitude with the clenching of her cunt and the slick of her skin. Because as she came, he did too, letting out a wail as his cock slipped from between her legs and sprayed across her chest and belly. His cum settled on her skin, and she whimpered, trailing her fingers through it as he collapsed to his ass with another “oh my god.”
She brought a fingerful to her mouth and licked. He whined.
“Look, cherry pop,” Emily teased, ruffling Spencer’s curls. “You’ve fucked him stupid.” With her other hand, she collected the rest of his cum and brought it to Cherry’s mouth. “Clean up his mess.”
Eyes on his, Cherry licked every last drop from Emily’s fingers. But Spencer wasn’t the only one watching. The bed rose as Hotch stepped off it, and she barely had a chance to moan her thank you to anyone who was listening before she was dragged to the edge of the mattress by her ankles. Emily followed the same path, and as they had been before, they were lined up—this time belly down and their feet on the ground.
“Seeing as Reid is currently out of commission,” Hotch muttered, smacking her ass, then Emily’s, “I guess I’ll have to take care of both of you myself.”
She moaned, nodding in excitement. Emily immediately buried her hands in her hair and pulled her in for another kiss, and through the haze of moving skin and dark hair, she was pretty sure Spencer had slid across the bed until he sat in front of her. She got her answer, too, when he grabbed her hair and pulled her out of Emily’s hold to kiss her himself.
“I thought we were all having fun here,” Emily pouted, as Hotch pressed into her from behind. She gasped, back arching. “We can share, Spence.”
“We are sharing.” He barely parted from Cherry’s lips, giving her another rough kiss. “But I’m not going to just sit and watch. I did enough of that.”
Hotch grunted, his every thrust shaking the bed and echoing the slap of skin on skin. “Yes, and you got your way, didn’t you?”
After smacking Emily’s ass, he pulled out, and took a step sideways, until he was right behind Cherry. Hands on her hips, he surged forward. She cried out, head thudding into Spencer’s hold. Her eyes rolled back, and she whined, moving with every one of Hotch’s deep thrusts. His cock was nice and thick like Spencer’s, but this angle was a new kind of full, one that had her gripping the bedsheets and muttering nonsense.
“Seems you got your way too,” Spencer muttered, trailing his hand from her hair to her chest, where he twisted her nipples. “All chivalrous and now look at you.”
When Hotch pulled out and returned to Emily, she whimpered from the loss, dropping her hand between her legs to rub. And as Cherry frantically twisted her clit, Emily grabbed her free hand and squeezed, gasping with every skin-slapping thrust from Hotch.
“Reid, if you’re feeling left out,” Hotch panted, smacking Emily’s ass and earning a squeal from her, “then I suggest you get back in the game. Aren’t young men supposed to be spry?”
Emily moaned, glancing sideways at Cherry. She grinned. “Genius boy is a little distracted, and I owe cherry pop for that delicious display with her tongue earlier.” Sitting up, she pushed at Hotch’s belly. “Flip her over.”
Grunting, he pulled out of Emily and did as instructed, flipping Cherry on her back. Emily stood, and after looking between Cherry and Spencer, dropped to her knees. As Hotch pressed into Cherry with another brutal lunge forward, she cried out, and smirking, Emily leaned forward and flicked her tongue at the connection.
Spencer groaned, staring at the display. “Fuck, Emily—”
Emily smirked, continuing to flick her tongue, hitting Cherry’s clit and Hotch’s cock with every forward thrust. But when Spencer whined again, she shifted on the floor, until she kneeled in front of him.
“Let’s get you back in the game, yeah?”
Before Spencer could reply, Emily had him halfway down her throat. He cried out, Emily grinned around his cock, and Cherry could only watch, her eyes rolling back. Well—that was mainly from Hotch between her legs, fucking her so roughly her body rattled into the bed with every thrust.
With Spencer’s cries in her ear, Hotch leaned forward, capturing her mouth in a brutal kiss. “You like watching them?” he asked. “Those two have been like cat and mouse after you, and I can understand why. That pretty pink mouth, that sweet little tongue, this perfect fucking body.” He smacked her ass. “As their Unit Chief, they’re lucky I’m even letting them have a taste.”
She moaned, nodding frantically, because even though she desperately wanted Emily and Spencer, the thought of Hotch controlling the moment had her entire body molten. Her pussy fluttered, and he hissed, his thumb pressing into her clit.
“You like that, don’t you? Being fought over? Being desired? Were you even interested in Torres, or was that just a game to get all eyes on you?”
Words alluded her, her brain fuzzy as he fucked her. She could only stare up into those dark brown eyes, mouth open, pathetic little squeals echoing with his every thrust. Beside her, Spencer whined, the slick sound of a dick getting sucked only adding to the soundtrack.
“Nothing to say?” Hotch rasped, slowing his movements. “Would you take all of us at the same time if you could? Emily putting that sweet cunt on your mouth, and Spencer fucking your pussy, and me fucking your virgin ass?” His fingers at her clit teased lower, and her eyes widened. “It is untouched, isn’t it?”
Again, she nodded frantically.
“God, whatever Medina put in that powder sure has you cock drunk doesn’t it, cherry pop?” When his finger continued prodding at her ass, her entire body went taut. “Fuck, that’s all you needed, wasn’t it?”
She sobbed as the orgasm tore through her, sending her thrashing across the mattress. Hotch fucked her through the pleasure, but just as soon as her cunt stopped clenching, he was gone. Whimpering, she sat up on her elbows, confused as to how she went from endless attention to…
Alone.
Tears burned her eyes.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Emily cooed, kissing her gently. “We got you.”
Hands, so many hands, and then she was deposited on her hands and knees and—and—oh, Emily was underneath her, because there was that perfect tongue at her clit again and—and—and—
Spencer came up behind her, hands on her hips. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled, whining as his hard cock trailed down her ass and back to her soaking cunt. “Dreamed about this for years, even if you’re so fucking annoying and bratty and—”
She grinded into him, one hand burying in his curls, the other grabbing Emily’s breast. “You’re the—the—moron who can’t shut up—”
His hips surged forward, burying every inch of his thick cock inside her. She sobbed, the stretch still delicious, even after earlier and Hotch. And as Emily prodded her perfect tongue where they connected, she could only cry, tears of pure bliss dripping down her cheeks.
“Now we know how to shut you up,” Spencer hissed, fingers tight at her hips as he pounded into her, “but those wails are going to be distracting. Be a good team player, Cherry.”
Her eyes rolled, especially when he grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her head down, until she came face to… cunt. Hotch stared down at her, eyes black, as he fucked Emily, his big cock disappearing in and out of her pretty pink pussy.
She whined, hypnotized by the display, by Spencer fucking her, by Emily’s tongue between her legs, by Hotch’s dark stare. Moaning, she mimicked Emily and dropped her head, dragging her tongue from Emily’s clit to the base of Hotch’s cock. And when he pulled himself all the way out, she flicked her tongue at the head, trailing it along the base until he was fully back inside. Emily vibrating beneath her, thighs quivering as she panted and well…
Those vibrations were eye-crossing. Spencer let out a pathetic little whimper, blowing hot puffs of breath on her back as he leaned over her. His thrusts were relentless, jiggling her ass with every back and forth, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that had her toes curling yet again.
How was any of this possible? Was any of it even real? Had Medina actually succeeded in grabbing his gun? Was she currently bleeding out on the rainforest floor? Or had that flash flood swept her away, and was this her version of heaven, being passed around by the three people she’d spent way too many nights fantasizing about in different ways?
Hotch chastising her and bending her over his desk to prove his point. Spencer arguing with her and pressing her against the wall to shut her up. Emily teasing her and fucking her in the jet bathroom to help alleviate her stress.
And now she had all of them. Spencer fucking her frantically, his big dick splitting her in two. Emily mouthing at her clit, her perfect tongue painting fireworks behind her eyes. Hotch glaring down at her, his thrusts ramming his cock into her tongue and reminding her of just moments ago, when he teased an earthshattering orgasm out of her.
It was all too much, too good, too perfect, and she wasn’t going to last, she really really wasn’t—
“Look what happens when the team gets along,” Hotch panted, his thrusts in perfect sync with Spencer’s, the creaking of the mattress just barely drowned out by the pouring rain and the slick slapping of skin on skin. “I have to deal with arguing, and one-upmanship, and stupid competitive rivalries and look at you all now.”
She whimpered, glancing up at Hotch, struggling to keep her eyes open as Spencer’s pace picked up. “Feels so good, Hotch.”
“I know, cherry pop, I know.” He grabbed her head and shoved her face back down. “But you need to focus or you’re not going to get what you want. We can stop if you won’t—”
“I wanna, I wanna!” she sobbed, back to tonguing at him and Emily. “Tastes so good, she’s so sweet and you feel so good and Spencer feels so good and I like feeling good, Hotch. I—I—” The tears burned again. “I wanna cum again.”
“Ok, then you’ll get to cum.” He slapped Emily’s ass. “Prentiss, Reid, you better pick up the slack. Your precious cherry pop is near tears.”
Never ones to disobey orders, Emily and Spencer responded immediately. The tongue between her legs became frantic, joined by a soft pair of lips that latched around her clit and sucked. Meanwhile, Spencer slowed his thrusts, instead going long and deep, and the cross between Emily’s mouth and his delicious movements had her sobbing again.
“Cherry,” Spencer whined, his fingers surely leaving bruises at her hips, “you feel so fucking good. So—” thrust, “—fucking—” thrust, “—good!”
She wailed, the last shove of his cock deep inside igniting every inch of her. She grinded into his thrusts and Emily’s mouth, crying as she kept tonguing at Hotch’s cock disappearing into Emily’s pussy. Spencer tightened his hold on her and choked out, “oh my god!”, and between the warmth of his cum hitting deep inside her, paired with Emily’s mumbled whines and shaking thighs, and Hotch’s rough, “fuck”, she was pretty sure she’d died and went to heaven.
But she didn’t slow her tongue, even as Hotch pulled out and his cum dripped from Emily’s gaping cunt. With her eyes on him, she whimpered and licked up what spilled. And based on Spencer parting from her body, and the hot tongue between her legs and his choking “Jesus Christ, Emily!” she could only assume Emily was doing the same.
Hotch chuckled roughly, dropping to the edge of the bed to watch her clean-up. He patted her head. “Aren’t you just a little cumslut? Is this from the powder, or are you always like this?”
Whimpering, she stuck out her tongue, so he could see what she’d recovered from Emily’s pussy. He cursed, and she swallowed, following up with a smile.
“Did I do good, sir?”
“Perfect, cherry pop.”
Familiar, warm hands grabbed her hips. Spencer buried his face in her neck, groaning as he ran his hands up and down her breasts, belly, and ass. Those golden-brown eyes she’d glared into on countless occasions were pure black.
“No more fighting,” he mumbled, peppering kisses across every inch of her. “I promise.”
Emily laughed and settled beside her, grabbing her chin. “What a typical man. All Reid needed to play nice was a slice of cherry pie.” Emily kissed her softly. “Tastes even better topped with cream.”
She whimpered and curled into Emily, deepening the kiss. Between Spencer’s soft mouth on her breasts and Emily’s soft mouth on her lips, she wondered if this truly was the afterlife. Especially when Hotch hissed, his hand joining the party, trailing up her thigh and hip. But if this was heaven, would she be so… tired?
Struggling to keep her eyes open, she pulled away, collapsing into someone. Spencer, based on the curly hair and fading sandalwood scent. She snuggled into him, Emily on her other side, with Hotch on the edge. The four of them just barely fit in the full-sized bed, but with her practically on top of Spencer, and Emily practically on top of Hotch, and the two of them overlapping arms and legs, they made it work.
Clothes scattered across the tiny cabin, puddles of water from their entrance still seeped into the floor, and pouring rain still pounded into the roof and windows. The sound was soothing, and she curled into Spencer, who despite his thin frame, was surprisingly comfortable.
“What do you think, Reid?” Hotch asked, his deep voice hoarse. “Is it out of their systems?”
Spencer leaned up on his elbows, looking between Emily, who snuggled into a pillow, bleary eyed, and Cherry, who smiled up at him, half-asleep. “For now. But based on the toxicology report, these drugs have a long half-life. I… wouldn’t be surprised if they pass out for a bit, but upon waking up need to uh…” He blushed. “Go again.”
Hotch grunted. “Remind me to stretch.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hotch looked at the girls. “How are you both feeling? Do you need anything?”
Emily sighed. “A cigarette.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t help you there.”
“Damn. Cherry pop?”
She whimpered, looking between a sleepy Emily, and Hotch and Spencer, who watched with genuine concern. She bit her lip. “I want you two to kiss.”
Spencer choked. “I—what?”
“We all kissed,” she replied drowsily, “except you and Hotch. It’s only fair. No one is gonna know.” She grabbed their hands and tugged. “Pretty please with a Cherry on top?”
Spencer swallowed. “I—I don’t think—”
But to her surprise, Hotch grabbed his wrist and tugged him forward, pressing a kiss to his lips. After a second of reluctance, Spencer returned the kiss, lips moving in perfect sync, as their hips had earlier. And while she was disappointed there was no tongue, she whimpered, that familiar hum sparking to life between her legs.
When they parted, she giggled. “See… now we’re all connected.”
Emily hummed, eyes closed and lips curled. “I’ll say. Why haven’t we been sent to Puerto Rico before?”
Hotch grunted. “Probably for this exact reason.”
Spencer poked his head up. “Because unsubs with sadistic sex powders made with a cocktail of chemicals and rare fruit with aphrodisiac properties drove us into bed together? That’s very specific.”
“Cherry pop is right,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. “You really don’t know when to shut up.”
She giggled and curled into Spencer. “Don’t worry, pretty boy,” she teased. “He doesn’t mean it. Only I’m allowed to be mean to you.”
“Not me?” Emily asked, perching her head on Cherry’s shoulder. “I can’t knock Reid around a bit?”
She looked between them and bit her lip. “Maybe sometimes.”
Spencer whimpered. “I’m uh, going to get hard again if you two keep looking at me like that—”
Hotch groaned. “Enough. Sleep. Now.”
“I guess our senior citizen needs his nap,” she whispered, giggling again. “I—”
“And just for that,” Hotch replied roughly, “when we wake up, I’m going to teach that mouth a lesson, and we’ll see exactly who’s a senior citizen.”
Emily sighed dreamily. “Damn, now I really need a cigarette.”
And as the rain kept pounding into the cabin, Spencer replied, “And here I was worried about mosquitos. Did you know that El Yunque actually has a record low number of bug bites due to—”
“Reid,” the others rumbled in unison.
He swallowed. “Sorry. Nap time?”
“Nap time,” Hotch agreed.
But just as she started to fade, one thought slipped off her tongue. “I’m… happy…” she slurred, exhaustion taking over, “we… didn’t have… Rossi… with us.”
Emily snorted, Spencer winced, and Hotch laughed his first genuine laughter of perhaps the entire trip.
“Me too,” he mused. “Me too.”
Smiling, she snuggled into Spencer and Emily, and over Emily’s thigh, her hand hit Hotch’s. All three kept her cuddled up and warm, and as sleep finally took hold, she knew that for once, dreams couldn’t possibly live up to reality.