It was funny how lights, sirens, and several armed federal agents did nothing whatsoever to clear the crowd at the party.  If anything, they hustled closer and cheered louder, thinking it was all part of the show.  Hotch hated how jaded people were becoming, how desensitized they were to violence and mayhem. 

The house raid worked as well as could be expected.  Fifty-five party guests were rounded up and taken away.  Even the bartender and the waitresses were detained for questioning.  The multitude of upstairs private rooms were raided one by one.  Twenty extremely-fortunate young men and women were also taken away, not to the police station, but by ambulance or car to the nearest hospital. 

Hotch continued to search until there were no more rooms, no more closets, no more cubby holes, no more beds to hide under, and still they had not located Spencer.  Prentiss and Morgan searched as well, running up and down stairs, in and out of rooms, everywhere they could possibly search. 

Hotch was standing in the hallway, filling with dread, feeling truly ready to panic.  The house was nearly silent now, all except for the sound of feet pounding up and down stairs and through the halls.  In the quiet, Hotch realized there was water running somewhere above his head.

He bolted upstairs towards the sound, and located an enormous bathroom off one of the master beds.   He could have sworn that had been a solid wall when they searched this room before.   The shower was on.  The water was running.  He went around the rock wall of the walk-in shower and found a thin form in black balled up in the far corner. 

Hotch put away his gun and turned off the water, his heart pounding and his stomach churning when he saw blood coloring the water going down the drain.  The form flinched and hid tighter against the rock wall, whimpering with fear. 

Hotch moved closer, put an arm around Reid’s shoulder, slipped another arm under his shaking knees, and attempted to lift him.  Hotch was halfway standing when the chain rattled.  He knelt down again, and yelled loudly for help.  Reid went stiff as a board with terror. 

Morgan came running, as did Prentiss, his faithful hounds both of them.

“It’s okay.  I’ve got you,” Hotch promised, holding Reid so close.  Morgan saw the shackle around Reid’s booted ankle, and he went purple with rage.  He took out his gun and shot the lock off the floor.  Hotch carried Reid out of the huge shower and into the bedroom, dragging the short chain behind.  He paused at the end of the bed, where his foot knocked against another D-ring which was bolted to the floor. 

Hotch had intended to place Reid there to wait for the paramedics, but seeing the disarrayed state of the bedcovers made him pause.  In all likelihood Reid had been in that bed earlier in the evening, and it very likely had not been a pleasant experience.  There was no way he was going to put Reid back into the same bed. 

Prentiss motioned Hotch over to a settee by the open door next to the balcony.  Hotch set Reid down gently, and tried to let go, but Spencer clung to him, face buried in his neck, refusing to release his grip.  It was impossible for Prentiss to assess his condition because he simply would not let go of Hotch.  It was okay though to sit by the open door and feel the cool evening breezes, and stroke Reid’s hair and tell him everything would be fine.  The calmness of the moment would surely help to soothe Reid and help him gain his bearings.    

“Home,” Reid stammered.  “..…home…..”

“Hospital?” Prentiss suggested.

“…..home…..” Reid was sobbing softly. 

“Bring the SUV as close as possible to the back of the house.  I’ll bring him down there.  Not through the front,” Hotch said. 

“…..home….” Reid sobbed again.

“I’m taking you home.  It’s going to be okay,”  Aaron promised.

Being in the SUV, and being safe in Hotch’s arms, made Reid feel secure enough to unwind his death grip on Hotch’s neck.  It did take a few minutes of quiet persuasion though—Aaron’s hand rubbing his back, Aaron’s voice in his ear, Aaron mouthing kisses all over his face and neck. 

“I was so worried about you….so worried…” Aaron whispered, kissing his face over and over. 

Reid was mouthing words but his voice was much too soft to hear.  His head was tucked into Hotch’s neck.  Spencer was slack in Aaron’s arms, so thin, so vulnerable.  Every fiber of Aaron’s being wanted to protect Reid and keep him from harm.  Finding him in jeopardy and mortal peril, and being the one who had saved him, that turned Aaron on like nothing else. 

Aaron couldn’t get the sound of jangling bells out of his head.  Buckles? 

Hotch at first had thought it was the chain on Reid’s booted ankle, but then he realized the black rubber suit that Spencer was dressed in was covered with buckles down both arms, over the chest and mid-section and down both thighs. Thigh-high black boots began before the buckles ended.  The entire outfit covered Reid so closely that it left nothing about his body to the imagination. 

Aaron had never been so inappropriately turned on in his whole entire life.  He couldn’t wait to get Reid home and out of this costume so he could examine it more closely. 

He carried Reid through the front door and up the stairs.  Morgan and Prentiss and the SUV vanished into rolling fog and were gone.  Hotch laid Spencer down on their big bed, the one Reid had assembled with his own hands.  He smoothed Spencer’s chopped hair back out of his blurry, dizzy eyes.   

The outfit looked rather like the one Reid had worn for Halloween this year – something between a rock god and a dominatrix, complete with black eye-liner and blood-red lips.  The entire ensemble had accentuated Reid’s slenderness and his height.  It had made his fine ass such a topic of conversation at Garcia’s Halloween party that Reid had gone to the extreme of borrowing Aaron’s coat to wear.  Wearing his boyfriend’s long black coat over the outfit had only added to the sexiness.  Aaron spent the rest of the evening being jealous of his coat getting to cling to and brush and tuck against that beautiful butt. 

Hotch had had a difficult time keeping his hands off Reid until they were home Halloween night.  He had such fond memories of peeling that outfit half off of Reid, pushing him face down over the end of the bed, and fucking him briskly and steadily to the sound of jangling buckles. 

“Off,” Reid was begging as he clawed at the rubber suit with shiny buckles.  Hotch had no choice but to help. 

The buckles came loose slowly, one at a time, stretched out over an eternity.  The more Aaron stared at it, the more he was sure this was the exact same outfit from Halloween.   He was starting to suspect he was dreaming this.    

“Hotch?” Reid whispered.

Aaron grabbed the collar and popped open the front of the rubber suit.  Faced with all that tempting bare flesh, he did what anyone would do.  He nibbled along Reid’s exposed, exquisite neck.  Spencer moaned in response, arching his head back.  Hotch pulled him into a sitting position, folded the suit down halfway, and buckled it closed again, understanding that each buckle could fit into any other one on the suit, and that was exactly the point of all of them, wasn’t it?  Bare to his waist, Reid was again captured by the buckles, and Aaron was free to kiss and stroke and nuzzle as he pleased.  He sucked one nipple, teasing the other, and traded back and forth again, applying teeth when needed. 

Reid wriggled one arm free from Hotch’s tight grip.  Spencer should have been angry, terrified, and something furious for this inappropriate behavior.  Instead, he patted Hotch on the back of the head, and gave a funny, sleepy laugh. 

A light came on.  The brightness jolted Aaron wide awake.  Hotch understood that he had indeed been dreaming the entire thing.  

He was relieved.  Sort of.  He was also very aroused by the idea of it all – of swooping in, guns blazing, rescuing his favorite, sweet, pretty woobie from a fate worse than death, taking his prize home and putting him back where he belonged, in this bed and no one else’s.   Hotch kept the dream in his mind’s eye.  He might need that again.   In the brightness though, in the here and now, there was no hiding the erection tenting his pj’s, or the hunger that burned in his usually-stoic face, especially when the person on the receiving end of that smoldering gaze was an experienced profiler.    

“What were you dreaming?” Reid whispered, his eyes taking in Hotch’s condition in an instant.  He fought with arch amusement as he sat up in the bed they often shared, backed himself against the headboard.  He pulled his knees up to his chest, and pushed his chopped hair out of his eyes.  He pulled his ruined pajama top back up over his shoulders but gave the missing buttons only a faint glance.  He would gather them up around the bed later.  He rubbed his eyes and waited for Hotch’s reply.  There wasn’t one, at least not a verbal one. 

Hotch leapt at Reid, capturing him in a breathless kiss.  Aaron smacked the lamp and shut the light back off.  Reid moaned appreciatively, not at all angry when Aaron started tearing his clothes off again.  He helped by taking off the pajama top and tossing it aside.  He put a hand up between himself and Hotch’s open mouth, bared teeth, diving tongue.   

“Slow down a second,” Spencer breathed.  “Tell me what you were dreaming.”

“Um.  No,” Aaron refused.   He pulled Reid close again, biting his neck and shoulder. 

“I promise not to judge,” Spencer soothed, kissing Aaron’s nose, kissing his cheek.  Hotch growled, grabbed Reid’s hands, and held them above his head.  “Okay.  You do things like that, and I will start to judge.  Let go of my hands.  Right this second.”

Hotch knew that tone was dangerous.  He let go of Reid’s hands and admitted the worst of it.  “Classic rescue fantasy with power and control issues and overt sexual overtones.”

He could hear and feel Spencer staring at him, blinking those big brown eyes.    

“By that, I mean me rescuing you,” Aaron clarified.  

“For a second there, you had me going,” Reid promised dryly.  “From what were you rescuing me, my sweet prince?”

“Please stop talking,” Aaron begged, grabbing Reid and getting all handsy with his backside in an attempt to deprive him of the rest of his clothes.  When that didn’t work, Hotch kissed and licked his way down Spencer’s torso, getting a bite or two in, latching onto his hip and leaving a good mark.  In spite of these ardent persuasions, Reid persisted in unnecessary rambling, keeping his butt firmly planted so Hotch could not take away his bottoms.  This did not prevent Hotch getting a hand down inside those pants though. 

“Was I locked in a tower?  Was I being fed to sea monsters?  Was I chained to a rock for a dragon to devour?  What kind of silly-ass…oh…god, Aaron…..uhnnnmm,” Reid groaned as Hotch slicked one finger with spit and shoved it deep inside him.  

Aaron watched Spencer’s face as his mouth opened wide and his eyes closed.  The entirety of his being was focused on Aaron’s finger inside him.  Hotch grinned.  He had finally discovered the best and fastest way to quiet Spencer Reid.  It was a damn shame Hotch couldn’t resort to this tactic in all situations to bring Reid to heel when Reid simply wouldn’t shut his mouth and stop talking.   

“Illegal prostitution ring, sex slave,” Aaron whispered.  Spencer shuddered with pleasure, and not just because Hotch was stimulating his prostate.  Somewhere in the animal part of that powerful brain was a dirty fantasy that Hotch had unknowingly stimulated about as hard as possible.  “Have I mentioned recently how hot you look in black rubber and shiny buckles?  I hope you kept that costume from Halloween.”

Reid replied a scratchy moan.  He reached out a flailing hand, and opened the nightstand drawer.  He put a tube of lubrication against Hotch’s chest, and sat up and away from him and that delicious, teasing finger. 

“You think I’m sick, don’t you?” Aaron worried.

“I never said that,” Reid answered, panting.  But he was thinking it, Hotch feared. 

“You’re judging me.”

“I’m not judging.  Keep talking,” Spencer encouraged, slicking up Hotch’s fingers for him.  Reid slid deftly out of his pajama bottoms and wiggled back up against the headboard.  He locked eyes with Aaron, and slowly opened his knees to him.  No one had to tell Hotch twice what kind of invitation that was.  He pounced without a second thought. 

“You got taken while we were investigating a case about missing teens and runaways and this…this guy wanted….” Aaron rambled as he slid one finger inside Reid again. 

“Oh…..” Spencer whispered a groan of pleasure as Hotch worked less-than-patiently at stretching and preparing him. 

“He told me how pretty you were,” Hotch remembered.  Reid was awfully damned pretty, knees open, cock erect against his abdomen, hands holding onto his long, slender feet.  He was bucking up and down on Hotch’s hand, hair falling in his eyes as he sucked in his bottom lip.  He was biting, groaning, writhing, trying so hard to keep quiet so he wouldn’t wake Jack down the hall. 

“…Hotch….mmm…..uhn….mmm….”

Hotch wanted to gag him but couldn’t bear the idea of not hearing those moans and knowing how good he was making Reid feel. 

“…..and I was searching for you….Morgan and Emily too…” Hotch continued. 

“They were taken as well?  Oh…mm…there…that’s…..mmmm…good…so….mmmm yes, there….ahn…Hotch….Hotch….uhnnnmm….”

Two fingers in the right place at the right time could make Reid forget how to speak.

“No.  Only you were taken.  Prentiss and Derek were helping me find you.”

“You….found…..me….didn’t you…. rescued me….ooooh… mmmm….uhn…uhn… Hotch…..oh…..”

“We found you, and I brought you back home to my bed where you belong.”

Hotch slithered out of his own bottoms and yanked Reid close, slicking himself and nestling tight against and inside Spencer.  Instead of laying him back against the bed, Aaron held Spencer across his lap, legs spread wide, watching his cock slide deep inside Reid.  Hotch clutched Reid’s shoulders and back, holding him so close neither of them could move.  He wanted to relish the feeling of being buried deep in Spencer this way for as long as possible, feeling his heart beat from the inside. 

“Move…move…oh…. please….god....Hotch….move…. ” Reid begged hoarsely. 

Hotch lifted the thin man in his lap, sliding him up and down, delighting in the shudders this elicited, the electric shivers that coursed through Reid’s body.  Each downward pull and upward thrust caused Spencer to call out, sometimes in pleasure and other times in unexpected pain.  Aaron watched each emotion flicker through Reid’s expressive face.  Pain got the same enthusiastic response that pleasure did, Aaron noted. 

Hotch grinned happily, thinking what a beautiful, sweet, dirty boy Spencer was when you got past all his barriers.  Hotch held tighter, pushed harder, intent on making the younger man lose every last bit of his much-valued control.  He bit Spencer’s nearest shoulder until he tasted blood in his mouth.   Reid surrendered to the pain, caressing Aaron’s dark hair, knowing Hotch would release him soon, which he did, only to kiss away the pain and lick away the traces of blood.   

Aaron growled dangerously in Reid’s ear, making Spencer shiver.  He clutched Spencer’s hips with both hands and left thumb prints in his pale skin as he thrust harder and faster.  Spencer balanced his arms on Hotch’s shoulders for a better grip, hoping for at least a chance in somewhat controlling Hotch’s movements.  He dug in hard with his knees against Aaron’s sides.  He began leaning backwards until his fingers were barely able to touch Hotch’s shoulders.  He was bent backwards in half against the bed, able to touch his head to the pillows. 

The change in position was completely intentional.  The contortion meant Hotch was hitting Reid’s sweet spot with each rough thrust.  Hotch wondered jealously who had taught Reid this little trick.  He would be questioning him later about it.  Reid was calling out loudly with each thrust now, sobbing with pleasure.   He let go of Hotch’s shoulders and let his hands fall backwards above his head.  He was balanced delicately, like a trapeze artist facing the circus below.  Hotch rode Reid mercilessly, thinking he should probably put a hand over Reid’s mouth to quiet his screams, but he couldn’t reach, and there was no way in hell Hotch was stopping at this point. 

Seconds later, Reid stopped breathing and screaming and moving as his entire body went taut in Hotch’s arms.  As Aaron filled him with hot, wet heat, Spencer responded with erotic fireworks of his own.   Everything flashed hot, white, and bright inside Reid’s brain.   

Spencer woke seconds later, groaning low and deep.  The bedroom lights were on.  Hotch was leaning over him, stroking his face, kissing him, petting him, whispering to him in broken sobs. 

“Please be okay….please be okay….please be…oh god…”

“Mmm…okay,” Spencer whispered, smiling lazily up at Hotch.   “That was mmm…. very nice…..so….mmm….yes…..do it again?”

Reid struggled to pull himself upright, and Aaron scrambled to help him unbend his legs and straighten them out.  Hotch was stroking those long limbs and dotting kisses on them as well. 

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I’ll never do that again.  I swear.”

“What in the world are you sorry for?” Reid asked impatiently, kissing Aaron’s forehead and temple and mouth. 

“I hurt you.  You…you stopped breathing….”

“May be time for my hundred-thousand mile checkup,” Reid laughed softly, putting Aaron’s hand over his heart.  It wasn’t something he should joke about, and yet his amusement made Aaron less tense. 

“Don’t you ever pass out on me again.  You scared the hell out of me.  I thought I killed you.”

Spencer languidly curled long arms around Hotch’s neck, and Aaron stopped shaking him. 

“Manner of death?  Homicide.  Weapon of choice?” Reid whispered.  He arched a brow and then he gave a devious, naughty giggle, tucking himself in Hotch’s arms.   

“I was so scared,” Hotch replied.  Reid wrapped both legs around him and sucked on his earlobe, giggling again.   It was a very infectious sound.   Hotch felt himself smiling too. 

“Hotch, I would let you tie me up now and again, if it turns you on that much,” Reid offered sleepily.  “All you have to do is ask first.”

Hotch stood up from the bed and carried Reid towards the bathroom and the shower. 

“It’s not the tie-you-up part.  It’s the rescue part,” Hotch whispered back.  Spencer nosed tiny kisses to his ear. 

“If it makes you happy, it makes me happy.   I will even get a book.”

Hotch knew Reid was serious if he offered to seek the higher power of a book.  He wondered how he could be so lucky to have this man in his life.   Or in his shower, up against the wall like that with his legs spread, water trickling down his spine and over his ass.

“I’m not getting back to sleep anytime soon, am I?” Spencer whispered as Hotch spooned against him. 

“No,” Hotch replied deeply, tongue tracing water droplets off the back of Reid’s neck and spine.

“My boss is gonna be so pissed at me tomorrow,” Reid joked over one shoulder.   Hotch smirked at Reid and pushed his face back up against the shower wall.