Categories > TV > Criminal Minds
Still Here
0 ReviewsWhat happens when Hotch goes home after Compromising Positions the episode .
Still Here
Betad by kisaitaluvr
By ROSSELLA1
NOTE: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. Any quotes will be in italics. Right after Compromising Positions (the episode).
He walks into the apartment and throws his keys on the table. Brief case tossed aside. Just like he did that night. He’s tempted to pour himself a drink too but forces himself not to. He needs to stay in the present tonight. His team would say that it was unhealthy to dwell on the past but sometimes he can’t help it. It doesn’t matter that he got a new rug, rearranged things when Jack moved in. Everything in the apartment reminds him of him and it takes all Hotch has not to go for his gun when Jessica steps out of that same room that he had been waiting in.
“He’s asleep.” She says with a tired smile.
“Thanks.” He pauses. “It’s late; you want to stay the night?”
“No,” She gives him a brief shake of her head. “I’ve gotta get up early tomorrow. Things to do…” She trails off. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He forces a smile. “Just tired.”
She searches his eyes and for a moment he’s afraid that she’s going to press the matter but all she says is, “Well, make sure you get some sleep then.” She gives him a peck on the cheek and heads out the door.
When it’s closed, he locks it, dead bolt and all, and resets the alarm. He takes a quick walk around the apartment, making sure the windows are all locked and closed, locking the balcony door, and even though he knows it’s pointless, double checks the front. Once he’s sure everything’s locked up, he heads down the hallway.
He pauses at Jack’s room and peeks in a bit of a real smile coming onto his face as he sees his son bundled up, teddy bear in arms, breathing peacefully, and then he gently closes the door again and the smile vanishes as he heads into his own room.
He forces himself to remove both guns and lock them in the safe before lying down on the bed. He closes his eyes and then he’s there, sliding in next to him, arms wrapping around him, hands sliding into places they shouldn’t. Reid’s voice comes floating back to him from the previous day.
“Most piquerists are impotent…”
George laughs at the thought, pressing his already hard penis against Hotch’s thigh, and Hotch scrunches up his eyes forcing himself not to pull away. ‘This isn’t real.’ He reminds himself. ‘Foyet’s dead. This is all in your head.’
“Is this part of my profile? That you can’t show me fear?”
“If you don’t see fear maybe it’s because I’m not afraid of you.” He grounds out before he can stop himself.
“He’s proving his dominance over his rival by obliterating their mate.”
“You know why I had to do it, don’t you?” He kisses the back of Hotch’s neck. “As long as she was around your mind would be on her. I needed you to focus completely on me.”
He jerks away before he can stop himself. “Not real.” He mutters and Foyet laughs again.
“Oh I’m very real, Aaron.” He kisses him again, his hands start to play with the waist of Aaron’s slacks, pulling them down just enough to get the job done and suddenly he’s all business, “Now I hear, that profilers think that stabbing is a substitution for the act of sex. That if somebody’s impotent, they’ll use a knife instead. Is that what you think, Agent Hotchner? Maybe this will change the way you profile.” Then he’s thrusting in and whether it’s real or not it sends waves of pleasure mixed with pain, as Foyet pulls out and rams back in, hitting his prostrate and stroking him off all at the same time.
“I will kill you,” Hotch manages to sob out.
Foyet gives a small chuckle. “But don’t you remember, Aaron? You already did. It just doesn't make a difference.” And with that he slides out of Hotch and off the bed. Hotch turns over to see if he can watch Foyet leave. Usually the apparition is gone by now but this time he’s still there pulling his clothes on. “Thanks for the quickie,” The man says, after he’s done dressing, turning to wink at him, as he heads for the door.
The change makes him dive for the safe next to the bed. It doesn’t take him more than a few seconds to get it unlocked and take the gun out but when he sits back up Foyet’s gone. Even though he knows it’s foolish he dashes out the door and into the hall but of course no one’s there. He mentally berates himself for doing so and turns back around. He puts the gun away and falls down on the bed, burying his face in his pillow so Jack doesn’t hear his sobs. He knows that when he goes to work the next morning he won’t tell the team about what happened. They’d just tell him that Foyet was dead; that Hotch was just suffering from PTSD. But he knows better. It doesn’t matter if Foyet’s dead; Hotch knows he’s still here.
Betad by kisaitaluvr
By ROSSELLA1
NOTE: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. Any quotes will be in italics. Right after Compromising Positions (the episode).
He walks into the apartment and throws his keys on the table. Brief case tossed aside. Just like he did that night. He’s tempted to pour himself a drink too but forces himself not to. He needs to stay in the present tonight. His team would say that it was unhealthy to dwell on the past but sometimes he can’t help it. It doesn’t matter that he got a new rug, rearranged things when Jack moved in. Everything in the apartment reminds him of him and it takes all Hotch has not to go for his gun when Jessica steps out of that same room that he had been waiting in.
“He’s asleep.” She says with a tired smile.
“Thanks.” He pauses. “It’s late; you want to stay the night?”
“No,” She gives him a brief shake of her head. “I’ve gotta get up early tomorrow. Things to do…” She trails off. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He forces a smile. “Just tired.”
She searches his eyes and for a moment he’s afraid that she’s going to press the matter but all she says is, “Well, make sure you get some sleep then.” She gives him a peck on the cheek and heads out the door.
When it’s closed, he locks it, dead bolt and all, and resets the alarm. He takes a quick walk around the apartment, making sure the windows are all locked and closed, locking the balcony door, and even though he knows it’s pointless, double checks the front. Once he’s sure everything’s locked up, he heads down the hallway.
He pauses at Jack’s room and peeks in a bit of a real smile coming onto his face as he sees his son bundled up, teddy bear in arms, breathing peacefully, and then he gently closes the door again and the smile vanishes as he heads into his own room.
He forces himself to remove both guns and lock them in the safe before lying down on the bed. He closes his eyes and then he’s there, sliding in next to him, arms wrapping around him, hands sliding into places they shouldn’t. Reid’s voice comes floating back to him from the previous day.
“Most piquerists are impotent…”
George laughs at the thought, pressing his already hard penis against Hotch’s thigh, and Hotch scrunches up his eyes forcing himself not to pull away. ‘This isn’t real.’ He reminds himself. ‘Foyet’s dead. This is all in your head.’
“Is this part of my profile? That you can’t show me fear?”
“If you don’t see fear maybe it’s because I’m not afraid of you.” He grounds out before he can stop himself.
“He’s proving his dominance over his rival by obliterating their mate.”
“You know why I had to do it, don’t you?” He kisses the back of Hotch’s neck. “As long as she was around your mind would be on her. I needed you to focus completely on me.”
He jerks away before he can stop himself. “Not real.” He mutters and Foyet laughs again.
“Oh I’m very real, Aaron.” He kisses him again, his hands start to play with the waist of Aaron’s slacks, pulling them down just enough to get the job done and suddenly he’s all business, “Now I hear, that profilers think that stabbing is a substitution for the act of sex. That if somebody’s impotent, they’ll use a knife instead. Is that what you think, Agent Hotchner? Maybe this will change the way you profile.” Then he’s thrusting in and whether it’s real or not it sends waves of pleasure mixed with pain, as Foyet pulls out and rams back in, hitting his prostrate and stroking him off all at the same time.
“I will kill you,” Hotch manages to sob out.
Foyet gives a small chuckle. “But don’t you remember, Aaron? You already did. It just doesn't make a difference.” And with that he slides out of Hotch and off the bed. Hotch turns over to see if he can watch Foyet leave. Usually the apparition is gone by now but this time he’s still there pulling his clothes on. “Thanks for the quickie,” The man says, after he’s done dressing, turning to wink at him, as he heads for the door.
The change makes him dive for the safe next to the bed. It doesn’t take him more than a few seconds to get it unlocked and take the gun out but when he sits back up Foyet’s gone. Even though he knows it’s foolish he dashes out the door and into the hall but of course no one’s there. He mentally berates himself for doing so and turns back around. He puts the gun away and falls down on the bed, burying his face in his pillow so Jack doesn’t hear his sobs. He knows that when he goes to work the next morning he won’t tell the team about what happened. They’d just tell him that Foyet was dead; that Hotch was just suffering from PTSD. But he knows better. It doesn’t matter if Foyet’s dead; Hotch knows he’s still here.
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