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“Let's make a wager,” is what Spencer says as he slides into the seat opposite of where Derek is currently drinking shitty cop-shop coffee as he reads over the same file for the fifth time. None of it is sinking in, but he's trying anyway.
“Oh yeah?” He sighs - well, he's not concentrating anyway - and looks over at the other man, noting the fact that his tie is askew and his hair looks like he's run his hands through it several times.
“Yeah. How long do you think it's gonna be until Rossi launches into one of his stories about how he absolutely, definitely, doesn't know half of Hollywood?”
Derek snorts. “Won't be long with how starstruck some of the uniforms were. Maybe another two hours, three tops.”
“Really? I think you're overestimating him. I think it's gonna be another half an hour before he's telling one of the local guys about the time he played golf with someone who definitely isn't Steven Spielberg.”
“You're on, Reid.” Derek drops his voice low. “And what do I get if I win?”
Spencer smirks. “When I win, I get to do whatever I want to do to you in our hotel room tonight.”
“And if I win?”
“Maybe I'll let you do whatever you want.”
“You're on, pretty boy.”
They shake, pinkies lingering just a millisecond longer than necessary when they let go.
It's two and a half hours later that they overhear Rossi talking to one of the detectives.
“You know, I was playing golf one time with this director, and this guy was big into dinosaurs…”
Spencer pouts, but Derek presses his hand against the small of his back, and when their eyes meet, his eyes are almost pitch black except for a thin ring of hazel.
He grins, and leans in close. "I'll be cashing in tonight."
They get back to the room at around ten that night, having spent several more hours looking over files and maps until Hotch called it a day and told them all to get some rest. The drive back from the precinct had been quiet, but the atmosphere had felt so charged he’d hoped Emily or JJ didn't pick up on anything the whole way in the elevator.
The door to their room has barely closed before Spencer's on him, Derek finding himself pushed back against the heavy wooden door as Spencer's lips meet his, his hands trying to pull his shirt out of his waistband, but Derek grabs his wrists and pushes them away.
“Hang on, pretty boy. It's dealer's choice, remember? I get to decide what we do tonight.”
“But-”
“But nothing, sweetheart. I won the bet.” Derek leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Spencer's jaw before pushing him back. “Get on the bed.”
Spencer goes willingly, though with a bit of a pout playing on his lips, and sits on the end of the bed and watches as Derek walks right past him, grabbing one of the armchairs from the table and pulling it to the end of the bed, along with his go-bag.
“What are you-”
“I'm doing exactly what I want, baby. And what I want right now is to watch you.”
“You-”
“Yes. I want to watch you touch yourself, and maybe, if I'm feeling nice, I'll even fuck you after.” He watches as Spencer's face flushes, then smiles when he shuffles a little further back onto the pillows. “That's it, baby. Now, take your clothes off. Slowly, so I can enjoy it.”
It's obvious that Spencer feels awkward at first, but it doesn't take long until he's a little less self-conscious - he takes a little time taking his tie off, fingers trembling slightly as he pulls it out of the knot, but they become more sure as he moves to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly and revealing pale, largely unblemished skin with each new button undone. Derek hums in appreciation, and Spencer's blush trails down his neck, all the way to his chest. It's still lightly pink when he finally slides the long sleeves of the shirt down his arms, dropping it onto the floor next to the bed, and looking back at Derek with dark, heated eyes. “Pants next, sweetheart. Then your boxers, and your socks.”
He watches as Spencer lifts his ass off the bed, sliding his slacks down and pulling his (ever endearingly odd) socks off at the same time, appreciating the way he's clearly affected by the way Derek is watching him, judging from the state of his underwear.
Once the boxers are gone, Spencer settles himself against the pillows, looking nervous again, so Derek gives him another instruction. “Show me what you like, what you do when I'm not there.”
Spencer nods - Derek already knows what he likes, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like a demonstration from time to time - and runs his hand slowly across his chest, then his stomach. He's hard, cock already leaking at the tip, and when he finally wraps his hand around himself Derek has to briefly run a palm over his own crotch to take off some of the pressure.
He watches the way Spencer's hand slides up his shaft, thumb brushing over his slit and making him shiver slightly, slow at first, almost teasing, before quickly finding a comfortable rhythm that makes Derek's mouth go dry and and his hand itch to undo his jeans and take hold of himself.
“Fuck, that's it baby, show me what I wanna see.” His hands clench against the soft, worn leather of the chair, wanting to reach out and touch him and also not wanting to take his eyes off of him.
Spencer's legs spread open and his other hand drifts lower, fingers brushing against his hole, and Derek reaches into his bag and grabs the bottle of lube, tossing it at him gently and then watching as his boyfriend coats his fingers before pushing into himself, immediately plunging two into himself with no preamble.
Derek huffs a noise of amusement. “Worked up, are you sweetheart? Too desperate to take it slow?” Spencer whines, apparently so keyed-up he's almost beyond words, thrusting his fingers in time with the fist around his dick, speeding up and then slowing down when he clearly gets too close.
“Derek-”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Need-”
“What do you need, sweetheart?”
“Just- just you. Need you. Please.”
And how can Derek deny him, when he's asked so nicely?
He's out of the chair in a second, standing at the end of the bed watching as Spencer scrabbles incredibly gracelessly towards him, his own pleasure forgotten as he buries his face into Derek’s crotch, mouth running over his clothed dick and making the denim wet. Derek hisses under his breath before taking Spencer by the hair and pulling him back, just enough to undo his belt and zip and free himself from his boxers.
Spencer sighs in relief as he takes Derek into his mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat almost immediately. Derek pulls back as Spencer starts to choke in his enthusiasm, and Spencer makes a noise of complaint and tries to swallow him down again, but Derek just holds him still, pulling his hair a little harder and making his eyes roll back in his head.
“I don't want you to hurt yourself, baby. Take it slow.”
Spencer nods, and he starts to take Derek back down again, much more slowly, though it's clear he's a little reluctant about it. He looks up, and it's obscene how gorgeous he looks. “You look so good like this, baby. My pretty boy with my cock in his mouth, like you were made for it.” Spencer shivers, and Derek starts to thrust into his mouth, admiring the way he closes his eyes and just gives in, letting Derek do what he wants.
But when he stops, and pulls all the way out, Spencer practically sobs.
“It's okay baby boy, I just didn't wanna waste all your work.” His hand slides down Spencer's back, fingers dipping into the cleft of his ass and pressing against his hole. “Still want me to fuck you?” When Spencer nods so hard he's a little worried his head might fall off, he chuckles, then eases Spencer onto his back until his head is settled back in the cushions and leans over him, kissing him deeply as Spencer ruts against his still-clothed leg, desperate trying to find some friction. “Patience, baby. Gonna open you up a bit more first.” Derek grabs the lube and warms some of the liquid up on his hand before pushing two fingers inside Spencer to the bottom knuckle, fingers crooking up and finding the spot that makes Spencer's mouth fall open in a wordless scream. He's careful not to do that again, skirting the edges as he pushes in a third, leaving Spencer gasping his name against the pillow with ever more desperation.
When he pulls back out, Spencer writhing underneath him, Spencer almost cries out, but Derek only pulls far enough away to drag his shirt off over his shoulders and shove his jeans down his legs before settling between Spencer's own, fisting his neglected cock twice before tilting Spencer's hips up and pressing the head against Spencer's slick hole.
He pushes in slowly, enjoying the way Spencer just gasps underneath him, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders, until his hips are flush against Spencer's ass, long legs wrapped around them and holding him close.
“You good, baby boy?” Spencer nods, and Derek moves, pulling back out before pushing back into the tight, searing heat. “Fuck, you feel so good, could spend all my time buried inside you-” He groans, head dropping against Spencer's shoulder as he shifts the angle of his movements, determined that he's going to get Spencer to come without any hands on him.
He knows he can - it had been a fun discovery the third time they'd slept together.
His hips snap harder, like he's trying to get deeper than he already is, one hand on Spencer's hip as he presses messy, open-mouthed kisses into his shoulder, Spencer's fingers digging into his shoulders and his mouth open against Derek's neck as he gasps, meeting Derek's thrusts and pulling him closer, deeper.
“Come on pretty boy, let me feel you come around me from just my cock inside you-” He punctuates the last few words with a hard snap of his hips, and Spencer practically implodes as he comes between them, coating both of their chests and burying his moans into the pillow. He squeezes so tightly around Derek that he's dragged over too, hardly able to move as he climaxes, hands almost bruisingly tight against Spencer's skin.
He catches himself on his elbows to stop himself from totally crushing Spencer, not quite ready to separate himself and clean them both up, content to stay close to him and press sex-drunk kisses into his hair until he slips out of him, kissing him in apology as Spencer mumbles against his skin.
He goes to the bathroom and grabs a cloth, taking his time wiping down their chests, Spencer's ass, before settling into bed next to him and pulling him back onto his chest.
“You good, baby boy?”
Spencer hums an affirmative, draping a leg across both of Derek's thighs and an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss into his left pectoral. “Yeah, I'm good Der. Really good.”
He smiles. “Good.” His fingers strum idly along Spencer's arm, enjoying the moment of peace before they go to sleep, ready to face the horrors of their work again. “I love you.”
“I know.” Derek taps his arm, knowing that his boyfriend can't resist the Star Wars reference every single time, and Spencer laughs. “And I love you too. Turn off the light?” Derek complies, and he closes his eyes, ready to get some rest. “I'm gonna win the next one, though.”
“Whatever you say, pretty boy. Whatever you say.”