Donor

By Fabrisse

Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Spencer Reid/Aaron Hotchner
Warning: There is a description of Reid in an unpleasant hostage situation with beatings.
Disclaimer: I put them back when I finished playing with them.
Author note: This was written for the Kink Meme lj user="ansera" organized. I'm posting it here for the first time as I didn't complete it during the "anonymous" time frame. *sigh* I'm not sure I fulfilled the prompt well, but I'm glad I tried this one.
Prompt: Hotch causing Reid to orgasm in his trousers, on purpose, in front of everyone. No Reid humiliation, though. If anyone notices, I want it to be with a positive reaction.

This was the part they never talked about on the team -- the concern for each other bleeding through in particular ways. The lies they'll tell to outsiders, but not to themselves.

No one was cynical enough to say "another day, another hostage situation" but the fact was Reid was once again trapped. Reid and Rossi had been asked to give a recruitment lecture at MIT. It had gone well according to their report when they checked in immediately after it was over. The next day, Reid was gone from his hotel room. The hotel had asked Rossi if the other agent was planning to check out.

They'd called the local law enforcement agencies who noted that Reid looked similar to five young men who'd been found at different places in New England. Three were in Massachusetts, one in New Hampshire, one in southern Vermont.

It was a surprise to them then, when a day after the hotel called them, a package had arrived at the BAU with Reid's credentials and an IP address. The unsub had made certain the BAU got a live feed of Reid's captivity.

They took it in shifts, all except Hotch. The live feed was on the computer screen in his office, too. He'd grabbed a couple of catnaps that way, always there, always knowing what was happening to his subordinate. He'd ordered the others to take longer breaks on staggered shifts, even Kevin Lynch had joined them on this one, switching off twelve hour shifts with Garcia so that they always had an expert running the system.

And still Reid hadn't broken. They'd been able to narrow down locations. The unsub had definitely crossed state lines, but Morgan and Rossi, who was still up there, were working with JJ to talk to people in different local jurisdictions just in case they got the final clue that would tell them where to find him.

Mind you, there was some debate about whether they'd lock him up for his own good once they got him back, but they had no doubt they'd find their wayward genius.

Hotch woke to a knock on the door. He glanced at the screen. The hood the unsub had been using as sensory deprivation technique was off and Reid was blinking in the sudden harsh light.

Prentiss stood in the doorway, "Hotch, we think she's escalating. It's been less than two hours since she last talked to him."

"It could be her way of confusing the timeline for him. Fatigue and sensory deprivation are classic breakdown techniques."

"I'll get you some coffee. If I make a run for food …"

"Everyone will adore you. I don't know about anyone else, but breakfast stuff sounds good, I don't care what time it actually is."

"I'll hit Krispy Kreme and the bagel shop down the block, both."

He gave her a weak smile and followed her out of the room, down to Garcia's office. Hotch grabbed a bottle of water out of the break room on his way.

Garcia preceded him, gave Kevin a kiss, and sent him home.

Morgan was there waiting. "Dave'll call in three hours. JJ will be back in four. You look like death warmed over, Hotch."

"And yet, still an improvement on Reid."

"Copy that. Sixty hours."

"Reid's given us a great deal of help to find him."

"Yeah, we're down to only three states where he could be." Morgan shook his head and took a swallow of the old coffee in his cup and made a face at it. "I don't remember when I poured this."

Hotch was about to say something when there was a movement on the screen. Both of them pulled up chairs to see better.

There was a gag in Reid's mouth. His eyes were pleading with his captor.

The unsub spoke. "We'll start the usual way." She undid his fly and pulled out his penis. With her other hand she put a large container to the tip. "Pee."

Reid averted his face from the camera as he complied and Garcia found something to do at another screen. It was all the privacy she could give him.

When he was done, the unsub removed the bottle leaving him hanging out. She went to the sink and closed the container.

She came around and undid his gag.

The first words were dry and raspy. "There are several paraphilias that involve urine. Which one is yours?"

She picked up the belt and slapped it hard against his bare chest, twice.

Prentiss walked into the room with a plate and two cups of coffee balanced. "Pity we can't share this with Reid. The bagel's for you Hotch, smoked salmon cream cheese on an onion bagel. I put the rest in the break room. There's doughnuts too."

Morgan nodded. "What can I get you, Baby Girl?"

"Whole wheat bagel with plain cream cheese and if any of the doughnuts have chocolate?"

"Coming right up." He left with one last glance at the screen.

Reid had a large glass of liquid held to his mouth with a straw in it. He was refusing to take the straw in his mouth. "Can you at least zip me up first?"

The unsub sighed and took him in her hand trying to work him into an erection. With another small sigh, she tucked him in and zipped him up. Then she held the straw to his lips again. "Drink."

He didn't fight it, but did give a glance at the camera as he did it.

Garcia turned to Hotch. "Do you think it's drugged, sir?"

"We won't know until we get him out of there, but none of the other men's bodies had drugs in them. If anything the medical examiners were surprised at the lack of drugs in their bodies." When she looked puzzled, he glanced at his coffee cup. "We thought at first all the victims might be Mormons or Seventh Day Adventist because there wasn't any caffeine. That's extremely rare in the U.S. today."

"Is that why they keep the urine? To make sure he's pure?" Prentiss didn't sound as tentative as her questions implied.

"It would explain why the bodies weren't more malnourished. They hadn't had food in at least a couple of weeks, and in the case of the most recent victim, nearly a month. But their flesh was still hydrated. There are probably vitamins and nutrients in the drinks."

Prentiss stood. "We're still sure it's a cult and not just this woman who has him, right?"

Hotch nodded. "Garcia, check if there are churches or groups in the region we've narrowed it to that believe in purity of body, especially for men. It's fairly common for it to be a requirement for women."

"Got it, sir." She pushed her chair over to another area and began typing queries.

"I'll go look at our victimology again, see if I can find anything else that might indicate a need for purity or ritual cleanness."

"Thank you, Prentiss. If Morgan can take a nap, he should."

"I doubt he'll want to sleep even when his shift is done."

Hotch took a swig of his coffee and turned back to the screen.

Prentiss left the room quietly as Morgan returned.

He gave Garcia her food and a cup of coffee. "Anything new?"

"Prentiss and Garcia are working on it."

There was a slurp from the screen.

Hotch said, "Garcia?"

She didn't even glance at him. "Everything is recording, sir. Don't worry."

"Thanks."

On the screen, the unsub sat on Reid's lap. "Still nothing? I'm glad. I've been told if I don't get a response from you today, I can do what I really want with you."

"Response? You beat me and expect me to become aroused. I'm not wired that way."

"Jonathan saw pictures of you with Lila Archer, we know you like women."

"Lila occasionally needs a safe companion when she doesn't have a boyfriend. She knows I'm gay."

Hotch and Garcia looked at Morgan who said, "I saw him with Lila Archer. If he's gay, he sure managed to fake it well."

"Put gay, bisexual, and bi on the list of words we have that may be clues. I know he's trying to keep himself alive, but it could also be useful."

"I just hope claiming to be gay won't get him killed." Garcia fiddled with the pen she was using to add to the list.

"Morgan, take the name Jonathan and see if that helps Prentiss with her search."

"Got it, Hotch."

"Sir." Garcia pointed at the screen.

The unsub was walking around him. She threw the belt around his neck and tightened it. Hotch and Garcia saw Reid cord the muscles in his neck -- his instinctive reaction to put his arm between the garrote and his throat hindered by the chair he was manacled to. She loosened the belt.

"Your team is watching."

"I know."

"They'll see you die."

"They've seen me die before." Reid actually had the grace to half laugh even as he flashed back to choking on his own vomit with Tobias.

"If you could talk to only one of them, who would it be?"

"On my team? Why?"

Another stroke of the belt came dangerously close to his neck. "No whys. You're intelligent -- tall, attractive enough. We'd prefer it if you had blue eyes, but you've stood up to me well. Some didn't. They went quickly."

Hotch barely had to glance at Garcia before he heard her, "On it, sir." He heard her asking Morgan to look for other male victims with marks of torture and some signs that they'd been deprived of food for at least a day.

"Garcia, tell him that I think they're using these men as sperm donors. Have Prentiss look to see if there are IQ tests on file for the victims we already knew."

"Did you get that?" She smiled at Morgan's sally and put down the phone.

The unsub left the room and called a guard in. Reid tried to talk to him, but couldn't get the man to make eye contact, much less respond.

Garcia said, "How does he do that?"

"Insta-profile? He's a pattern reader. I mean, we've all trained ourselves to be. Reid just is." Hotch thought for a moment. "And he once told me he did his best work under extreme terror."

Morgan came back with Prentiss.

"Sir, we've found at least ten dead men in the last year and that general area who have been beaten with their own belts. In a couple of cases, their belts were found around their necks. All of them died of strangulation. No one caught it before for the same reason they missed the original five, the unsub crossed jurisdictions. No identification was found on any of them, unlike the men we originally linked to this person or group."

Hotch nodded. "Jonathan or this woman found them unworthy so they don't get names in death. They're just playthings for her."

The sound of the door being opened got them all focused on the screen. "You will have a catamite tonight. If you function with him, we'll keep you. I'm disappointed. Your skin looks beautiful with my marks."

Prentiss pulled Garcia aside. "Can you get screen caps of his bruising pattern? We may be able to use it to match with some of our other victims or find others."

"Sure, I can do that."

"Look you or Jonathan or whoever obviously wants me for my intelligence. Has it occurred to any of you that maybe I care about what's between someone's ears rather than what's between their legs?"

"Are you saying I'll get you anyway when he's done with you?"

They caught a quick glimpse of her face that Garcia captured immediately. Its expression was dreamy.

"Probably. It doesn't take much to make me come. Ask my lover. All I need is his voice. It's his mind. Shakespeare said, 'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment.' Unlike his, yours is narrow with a lot of vacancies. Hell, I've come sitting in a rocking chair listening to a good jazz trumpet because the mind behind it caught me."

Garcia automatically added trumpet to the clue list. After a moment, she also put down jazz, Shakespeare, rocking chair, and voice.

"Of course, we can't get your lover here, so you're out of luck."

"He's watching."

"Really. You expect me to believe you're involved with someone on your team? We've been watching your investigation. We watched you even before you came here to give your lecture."

Morgan turned to Hotch. "Think she's telling the truth?"

Hotch just shook his head. "Trying to make them seem more powerful than they are." He pointed back to the screen.

Reid said, "Then you know the FBI doesn't discriminate against GLBT agents, but it has some pretty harsh rules about fraternization. Of course, we've been discreet. I'd be surprised if the rest of the team knew, and they're profilers." The contempt for his interrogator was clear in his voice.

"Don't make her kill you, Pretty Boy."

"I'm surprised she hasn't already put the gag back in," Prentiss said.

"He's getting under her skin. Let's hope that's a good thing." Hotch drummed his fingers as the woman on the screen paced.

The unsub said, "I assume your technical analyst has been listening."

"If you're sending them a feed with sound, they're listening."

"And if I tell them we'll accept sound, they could put your lover on so you could hear his voice."

"Probably."

"Let your lover bring you off then. Just using his voice. Or are you going to tell me it's too harsh a requirement? Not what you need. Admit it, you're a eunuch."

Hotch barely glanced up before Garcia said, "On it. I'll check for castrations in the region."

"Can you set up a voice only feed?"

"In under a minute."

"Could that help us track them, or will it keep bouncing off all the relays you haven't been able to trace?"

Garcia looked hurt.

Hotch said, "I didn't mean that as harshly as it sounded."

"It might make the tracking easier, sir. We'll need an IP address, but they can relay it from that address. The time delay would be negligible."

"Whatever you can do." He gave a tight smile.

He turned his attention back to the screen.

Reid cringed a little whenever the unsub came closer and stroked his hair.

"The kid can take a beating better than he can take a caress." Morgan shook his head.

"It's that he doesn't know which it will be."

"What's your tech analyst's name?" The unsub was practically whispering in Reid's ear.

"None of your business. You don't need a name to request a voice feed."

The unsub refastened his hands so she had access to his back. Three stripes went across it.

Prentiss said, "I'm impressed, not a hint even of gender in his refusal."

Garcia winced and looked away from the screen. "Is it wrong that I'm glad she doesn't know who I am?"

"No, Baby Girl. I'd rather she didn't know who I was either."

"If they've been watching him even down here, why didn't she take you? Not that I'd want her to, but why Reid?"

"You heard her." Hotch put a hand on Garcia's shoulder. "They'd prefer it if Reid were blue eyed. You really think they'd pick Morgan if they want blue-eyed babies. Those men all died for some sort of sick eugenics experiment."

"I missed that part. I assume we've eliminated the Aryan Brotherhood and their off-shoots?" Morgan looked at the two women.

"I hadn't gotten heard either." Prentiss went to the door. "I'll call the locals in New England and see if they have any problems with racial violence in a commune or other group living situation."

Hotch said, "Thank you," without turning around.

The sound of a switchblade riveted them all to the screen. She used the back of the blade to trace patterns around the bruises on his chest. "I could just cut you open."

"Jonathan thinks I can give him something valuable. Let me prove that I can."

The sharp point of the knife rested under his chin. "Your lover's name?"

Reid kept his mouth shut.

The point pierced his skin enough that his teammates could see a few drops of blood drip on the blade.

"It's my boss. Aaron Hotchner."

"They have five minutes to set up a microphone. You'll get to hear your 'lover's' voice."

"Good. It's wonderful when it's late at night and his Southern accent creeps in just a little."

She nodded to the guard standing in the background. "Gag him. He doesn't get to tip off his boss."

Reid fought the gag as best he could, but the man behind him got it in. His cuffs were reset so his hands were behind his back.

"No touching yourself."

She left the room, but the guard stayed behind again.

Hotch turned to Morgan. "Please go get my laptop from my office. I'm going to need to look things up quickly. Garcia, that microphone needs to have a hold button or something so I can talk to you or let you guys talk while I'm doing this."

When Morgan came in with his laptop, Hotch opened a browser and pulled up three tabs. In the first, he queried for Pablo Neruda's love poetry -- in the second, the Fitzgerald translation of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. The last one he hovered over for a moment before requesting the King James version of the bible.

"The bible? Reid isn't exactly a believer."

"I know, but it's an old reference between us from when he first joined the unit. I'm pretty sure it will work."

"Just tell me it isn't Revelations that gets our boy off?" Morgan still looked skeptical.

"Second or third case we worked Reid and I ended up sharing a room. He gave me half an hour to talk to Haley, without my asking, which is better than you managed the first time we shared. He woke up with a nightmare and couldn't go back to sleep. So I read to him for a few minutes. I figured the Bible was better than the case file, and Reid said I could read anything except the 'Song of Songs' because erotic poetry would just keep him awake."

Garcia smiled at him. "I'll turn the mike on as soon as she comes back. Press this button to suppress the mike. If it's not down, the unsub can hear. I've put you in this corner because it's the farthest away from my keyboard. I hope she won't notice my typing."

"Sounds good. Thank you, Penelope." Hotch smiled back at her. He looked at Morgan and Prentiss. "I have an itch about rocking chairs and jazz trumpet. Can one of you take on that search and someone besides Garcia take notes on the clue list?"

Prentiss picked up the pad.

Morgan turned to the other keyboard and typed in the query. "Hotch, it says here Hoagy Carmichael wrote a song called Rocking Chair and recorded it with Bix Beiderbecke on trumpet in 1930."

Garcia nodded to Morgan. "I'll run with the names, you check out rocking chairs in New England. Hotch, you're up." When he nodded she switched the mike on.

"I don't know your name. I'm Aaron Hotchner." Hotch could hear his voice come back through the speakers. He motioned to Garcia to turn them down.

"You won't know my name. After this, the feed will go dark. You won't see Agent Reid alive again. How long he stays alive depends on whether he lied to me. Are you his lover?"

Hotch's voice was low and gentle. "I've loved Spencer Reid for a very long time." He noticed Reid's body relax. "I'm with you, Spencer, you know that."

Reid nodded and closed his eyes.

The unsub gave a small smile. "Don't mind me. I'll just be watching your agent's reactions."

From memory, Hotch began to recite, "'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters … '"

As the others watched Reid leaned back as far as the chair would let him.

Hotch let a bit of his natural accent creep in as it did sometimes late at night. When he finished the sonnet, he began picking verses from the Rubaiyat to speak aloud.

The bulge in Spencer's trousers became more prominent. He writhed against the chair and pressed his hips upward.

Between poems, Hotch would say Spencer's name or give a small compliment to him, little moments of tenderness.

Reid's head fell back and the muscles in his arms seemed to relax even as his legs tensed more, trying to press into flesh that wasn't there.

Hotch felt a touch to his knee. Garcia held up a piece of paper saying WBIX, Natick Massachusetts. He nodded to her. "Baby, I'm with you," He said into the microphone. Then he pressed the button. "Any other leads?"

"There were several rocking chair factories in New England, so I think the WBIX is the right one," Prentiss said.

He grabbed his bottle of water and took a swig he released the button. "Sorry, Spencer, I needed a little water. I found your favorite poem on-line." He began, "'Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.'"

The sweat began to form on Reid's chest and the others tried not to look as the younger man responded to the words Hotch was reading to him in such an intimate tone. There was a strangled sound from behind the gag and Reid came hard.

"Good for you, Pretty Boy," Morgan said softly.

The unsub came forward. "Say goodbye, Agent Hotchner. Know that Reid will be contributing to a better world." She cut the feed.

Prentiss gave Hotch an admiring smile. "I can't believe how much he had to trust you, us, to do that. You, too, Hotch. That took a lot of trust."

"We bought him at least a little time. I don't think they'll try to get more proof from him for a few more days."

Prentiss asked, "Why not?"

"Purity. You know how much coffee Reid drinks. It's going to be a couple more days before all the caffeine's out of his system." Hotch turned to Garcia. "What does WBIX give us?"

"All of the bodies have been well within its signal range, so that's something. I'm including the new victims we just found under the wider parameters in that. In addition, I've found one town near there with a Shakespeare festival. At the very least, I think we only have a couple of counties to work with. If you think we can eliminate greater Boston and Cambridge, then we can start working more closely with Natick and some of the smaller towns."

"Reid called the unsub's mind narrow with a lot of vacancies." Prentiss looked from Morgan to Hotch. "That argues suburb to me rather than a city or a rural area."

"It's a start. JJ will be in soon. I know you should be going home, but…"

"I can sleep on the plane. I take it we're heading to Massachusetts?"

"Take a nap on my sofa until JJ gets here. Then yes, we're going to Massachusetts." Hotch smiled.

***

The next day, they stormed the door of a small compound near the Vermont border.

Reid was found in a basement, still tied to a chair.

As the paramedics helped him walk to the door, Reid stopped and kissed Hotch on the cheek. "I knew you'd understand."

~

end