Greedy

By the time they get back to the hotel, she's already wet. She's been thinking about Hotch all night; watching his fingers curl around his glass, watching his knuckles flex, watching his fingernails catch the funny low light of the restaurant and gleam. His hands are sturdy and clean; they're capable; they're strong.

And JJ knows better than to do this when they're out in the field. Really, she does. She is professional, and she's good at her job, and she knows that she needs to be clear-headed and well-rested -- but she could swear that bastard was doing it on purpose.

When they finally manage to lose the rest of the team and get out of the elevator on their floor, she knows he was. JJ fully intends to say goodnight and shut herself in her own room to take care of business, but when she turns to face him, he grabs her by the elbow and strong-arms her through his door. Not that it takes much convincing, but hey. She can pretend.

As soon as she's through, he shuts it behind her and does up the locks -- and then he double-checks them, she notes; Hotch is Hotch no matter where he is or what's happening around him -- and takes off his jacket.

"What the hell..." she starts, but then he's sitting in the chair at the foot of the bed, just looking at her, his hands perched on his thighs and his pupils as round as dinner-plates. JJ doesn't know whether that's from the dim light of his room or from wanting to fuck her brains out, but she doesn't really care.

"Sit down," he tells her, gesturing to his lap.

JJ's done arguing by this point -- it was really only for show, anyway -- and complies, toeing off her flats as she goes. She settles across his lap and tries to shimmy forward, tries to press up against him, to get close... but he splays his palm in the center of her chest and holds her back, pushing her backwards towards his knees.

JJ's brow contracts in a question, but before it has time to reach her lips, Hotch has already pulled her skirt out from under her ass and pushed the whole thing up around her waist. JJ swallows hard as his hands come to rest on her now-bare thighs, the tips of his fingers creeping between them. Her muscles jump underneath his touch, and he murmurs, "Shhhh. Be a good girl. Open wide for me."

JJ spreads her legs and hooks her feet around his ankles, anchoring herself in place. She knows from experience that she's going to need it. Hotch still has his shoes on, and she runs her bare toes along the tops of them and grins at him. The corners of Hotch's mouth twitch up a little at her, his smile temporarily betraying the game, but he reins it in expertly and sets his expression.

"Look at you," he mutters, reaching between her thighs and running an index finger over the damp crotch of her panties, "all wet already." He draws his finger back and forth, first up the center, then tracing the delicate elastic at each leg, tugging it out from her body just a fraction. JJ tenses with anticipation and shifts position, trying to encourage him, but he doesn't obey. She knew that he wouldn't. She can feel the heat spiking in her body, and her heart is pounding wildly, and she watches his hand move between her legs, all shadows and strange shades of yellow and gold from the desk lamp he left on.

"What should I do with you?" he asks, turning his gaze up to her face and slipping just the tip of one finger underneath the elastic. "Should I have you suck my cock? Maybe you want to get down on your knees for me right here."

JJ's mouth goes dry at the thought. "Maybe," she whispers back, and he adds a second finger, pulling the elastic back even more.

Hotch rubs the material between his fingers and pretends to think. JJ's legs tighten across his thighs and she tilts her hips toward him, but he only pulls away. "Or maybe I want to watch you fuck yourself," he says. "That's what you were going to do, wasn't it? After you said your polite little goodnight? You were going to lay down on those nice, clean white sheets and get yourself off thinking about me. Weren't you?"

"Mmmhmm," JJ answers, her arms braced behind her and her fingers tightening on Hotch's knees. "How did you know?"

Hotch moves her panties aside, finally, and exposes her cunt. He slides his index finger up the center, and JJ arches her back and lifts her hips with a groan. "This is how I know," he answers, then uses his knuckles to open her up.

JJ bites her lips and closes her eyes, waiting.

They sit like that for a moment, and even though she can't see him, JJ can feel Hotch's eyes on her. He finally breaks the silence and says, "Should I do that, then? Should I watch you do it yourself?"

JJ clenches her hands tighter. "No."

"What then?" he says, pushing his knuckles farther apart.

"You."

"Me? What should I do?"

"Fuck me."

Hotch relaxes his hand and presses one finger against her, rubbing in slow circles at her entrance. "Like this?" he asks, then slides his index finger inside of her up to the knuckle.

JJ gasps and grinds down towards him, lifting herself up from his lap. As she pushes forward, Hotch pulls back to keep her from forcing him in deeper. "Yes," she says. "More."

"More? Greedy little thing," he answers, sliding his finger in deeper and fucking her with it. JJ rocks with him, panting as he curls up to press against her g-spot. She gasps and clenches tight. "See? Greedy," he says again, then picks up the pace, sliding faster.

It's not enough. Of course it isn't, and he knows it isn't; he just wants her to ask him for it. She's dripping all over his hand and his dry-clean-only pants, and she can feel when she bumps his wrist back that he's so hard for her, and all she can picture is how big he is, how thick, and she needs more.

"More," she pants, pulling her muscles as tight as they'll go, trying to feel full.

"More?"

"More!" she says again, twisting and grinding against him.

"Manners, JJ," he says. She can hear the little smirk in his voice, and she thinks briefly that she is going to torture him later, but for now, if he wants her to beg for it, she's going to beg.

"More please!" she says, and he complies, adding a second finger and fucking her harder, thrusting them in as deep as they'll go, pushing up so that she can feel the pressure everywhere in her body. It's better, but it's still not enough, and he won't touch her clit, not directly, anyway. She keeps angling herself to try to grind against his hand, and he keeps twisting it away from her, denying her the friction.

"Three!" she says suddenly, without even thinking about it -- it's like there's a direct line between her cunt and her mouth, and it's bypassing her brain entirely -- and then she adds a quick, please on the end so he won't tease her again.

He doesn't. On the next thrust, he adds a third finger, and when JJ's eyes blink open briefly, she can see the sweat at his temples and the hunger in his eyes, and she knows he isn't going to make her wait much longer. She knows what he likes, so she starts making noise for him, encouraging him with her oh Gods and moans, and then the sound takes over, and it's for both of them.

She starts a litany of fuck me, come on, harder, and she squeezes herself so tight she can feel his fingers crush together inside of her, and she throws her head back, her shirt sticking to her chest with sweat, and then she gets what she wants: Hotch adds a fourth finger and presses up against her clit with his thumb, steady pressure that slides when she moves her hips.

Hotch stills his hand so that she can fuck herself on it, and she does. She leans up and takes hold of the back of the chair, and he spreads his fingers as far as they'll go, holding her wide open and filling her up, and she grinds herself against his thumb until her muscles start to tense and tremble and she comes with a sharp intake of breath and a long, low moan that the darkness swallows up and spits back in a half-echo.

JJ collapses down against his chest, and the chair tips back, but he catches them and sets them back down. She hides her face in the side of his neck and he rubs circles into her sweaty back. "Good girl," he whispers, and she smiles, slow and satisfied, against his skin.

JJ reaches down between them and presses down against his cock, hard and straining against the fabric of his pants. "Good boy," she counters. "Your turn."