She wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a form of sadism that she enjoyed watching Reid hobble around on his crutches. She couldn't help it; watching the muscles of his arms dance under his shirt sleeves, seeing him swinging him body in transitional motion, listening to the slight shortness of his breath when he had to move a long way, all those things made her body react.

It had even crossed her mind once or twice to kick one of his crutches out from under him, just to see him topple helplessly. Of course she never would, because outside of her fantasy vision where he landed on the ground pained but unharmed and painfully aroused, ready for her to mount him right there where he'd fallen, if she actually did that she could do real damage, and he the last thing he would probably want her to do was fuck him.

There had been a decided lack of fucking since he'd been shot, actually. Prentiss didn't mind, because she quite enjoyed taking care of him; or, more often than not, tried to convince him to let her take care of him. She hadn't realised until the frequency had decreased just how fulfilling sex with Reid was.

Her body was currently reacting as she watched him hobbling around his apartment, tidying away books and papers. She hadn't offered to help, partly because she knew he wouldn't want it because only he knew the complex system by which he knew which books and papers went where on shelves and in piles. She also hadn't offered to help because she had the most debilitating hot itch of arousal between her legs at watching him on his crutches. Crutches had been so good for his arms; he looked so skinny in clothes, and he was, but below them was a system of very lean muscle and so little fat he was awful at retaining his body heat and always had cold feet in bed. Working on the crutches had strengthened and defined his arms so much that even Morgan had passed comment at work, sounding impressed and not a bit insincere.

She had planned her attack long before Reid came close to the sofa again to pick up some papers. She waited for the exact opportunity, then deftly flicked her foot out, dislodging the rubber pad of one of his crutches from the wooden floor.

"Hey!" he sounded as he tried to regain his balance, grimacing. She was up in a flash and angling him so he collapsed on the sofa awkwardly with a soft 'ooomph!'. "Emily-" he began, but the words tapered off when he caught sight of the intense look she was fixing him with.

She lifted her top, pulling it off over her head. He swallowed in surprise, crutches still awkwardly angled under his arms.

"You said-" he closed his mouth again when she huffed impatiently, undoing the front of her jeans. That morning she had told him she wasn't in the mood for sex when he'd made less than subtle hints towards the possibility. She had not been in the mood for the slow, paced sex they'd been having lately; she was in the mood for a good fuck.

"I know what I said," she said shortly, "and I'm entitled to change my mind."

"Okay." He said agreeably, shifting his hold on his crutches to move them aside.

"No." She said sharply. "Put them back."

"What?" he said, putting his grip back to gripping them as though he was still standing. "Like this?"

She replied with a throaty purr of a murmur, pushing her jeans off over his rear and down her legs. He swallowed audibly, not clueless enough to not understand that she was taking charge. Mindful of his knee (but not all that mindful), Emily slipped into Spencer's lap, thighs either side of his. Her hands were immediately at his belt, unbuckling and pulling it away roughly, glad to feel his erection through his clothes. Awkward as it was made by his immobility, she brought his cock and balls out, gripping him hard as she lowered her mouth to his, claiming him. She felt one of his arms shift and the hand on his balls squeezed a little harder than was comfortable.

"Hands back." She growled.

He didn't understand quite why she wanted him to keep hold of his crutches at a time like this, but he saw no benefit in arguing. He was surprised when she angled herself, merely pulling her panties to the side to allow her to sink onto him and her slick wet heat obliterated any eloquent thought process he had.

Emily was sure that she would have needed more foreplay if she hadn't been imagining fucking him into oblivion for the entire day, but as it stood was so aroused, a sordid part of her mind made correlations with a bitch in heat. She linked both hands around her back as she started to roll her hips, unhooking her bra and shrugging it off as she began to fuck him. He groaned, and for a moment he wondered if she might allow him his hands so he could touch the stiff peaks of her dusky nipples. She clearly had little interested in giving him that though, panting as she rode harder against him with expert balance, cupping her own breasts and staring at him intently as he panted below her, making futile attempts to lift his hips to affect the motion.

Spencer practically helpless below her, knowing he would have real difficulty dislodging her or taking control, sent impulsive messages right between her brain and her cunt. She squeezed her muscles deliberately, increasing the friction as she pinched her nipples, groaning throatily and dropping her head back. Her panties were askew, pressing against her vulva on one side and increasing the pressure of being filled by his long, slender cock. His cock was perfect, stretching her just enough that she didn't need to pause for long to become accommodated to his size each time, and long enough that when they were fucking hard – like now – he bumped her cervix, making her jolt in scratching, fiery pleasure. She would be sore, but it didn't matter because it felt so good as she braced her hands on his shoulders, digging her fingers in hard to give her leverage to ride him harder, driving him into her deeper.

"Em-" he choked out, gripping hard to his crutches to stop himself grabbing her breasts or her ass or her hips.

"Spence!" she growled. She dropped a hand from his shoulder down between them, seeking out her clit. He groaned and swore under his breath; in any position he could he usually acquiesced to that unspoken request, and witnessing her do it, feeling her hand bumping furiously against his clothed belly was completely erotic.

Her orgasm hit her like a truck, blinding and deafening her and ripping the breath from her lungs. She cried out as she humped herself against Reid, her cunt contracting tightly and increasing the delicious friction, fingers working expertly over her clit to make her orgasm as powerful as possible, dragging on for precious seconds.

Reid was close, so close behind, and then she was gone.

"Emily!" he gasped, eyes bursting open and staring at her, suddenly gone, standing in front of him. He thrust upwards uselessly. She didn't need to give him instruction, he knew he shouldn't let go of his crutches to relieve himself. He throbbed painfully, so close, glistening in her wetness.

"Spencer?" she asked innocently.

"Fuck! Emily! Please!" he keened. He didn't care how it sounded as he panted. "Please! Don't leave me, I need... please!"

He looked completely wrecked, and utterly helpless. Her hand fell back to her centre at the sight, teasing herself towards another climax.

"Emily!" he looked positively lost, straining his hips upward, desperate for some kind of stimulation. She relented, closing the distance between them and reaching for his straining cock. He was cumming before she even managed to angle him back inside her, streaking her hot centre with the first rope of his release. She sunk onto him, squeezing her muscles and rubbing her fingertip in quick, tight circles against her swollen clit, bringing herself to a second orgasm as he groaned, shaking with his release.

"Emily..." he panted. "Can I hug you now?"

"Mmhmm." She sounded, snuggling against his chest, breathing in the smell of sweat and sex against his neck. He let go of his crutches and linked his arms around the women's damp back, smoothing over her skin.

"That was... interesting..."

"Don't profile it." she muttered. "I just wanted to screw like rabbits."

"Actually, rabbits-"

"Don't..." she chuckled. "Just... just shut up."

He smiled against her, ignoring the ache in his knee. If he hadn't encountered any benefits to being shot yet, he may have just found something.