One in a Million

Chapter One

"Lust is the craving for salt of a man who is dying of thirst."

~ Frederick Buechner

4:30 am.

Spencer Reid eyed the alarm on his bedside table. He sighed as he rested his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, his feet planted on the floor and his covers disarrayed behind him. It happened again. The dreams wouldn't stop. At first they made him uncomfortable with their content, but then, it become the one thing he looked forward to at night, because he'd never have the real thing. It was an addiction - the beat of his heart, the tingle in his extremities, it's ability to stop all thought. In the nights, when the world was sleeping, it was the only time he could have him.

And with a guilty thump of his heart and the indecision of thought about his next actions, he slipped one hand beneath the waist band of his briefs and gripped his erection and gave a firm stroke. An exhalation of breath and the thought of his dream still playing beneath his eyelids. He shuttered at the pleasure that coursed through his alert body.

..."...Aaron..."...

His name is but a whisper in his thoughts, a guilty pleasure. He longed for strong calloused fingers to worship him, rough palms to calm him, and a strong husky voice to whisper to him. He imagined dark brown eyes, so dark they appeared almost black in the older mans desire, to watch him.

...fingers brush across smooth skin, lips leave a wake of heat as they mapped every curve and slope of the pale body beneath them. Strong muscle flexing beneath graceful slim fingers...

He could never forget his dreams or every expression that had crossed Aaron Hotchner's face in reality and all of it, transcended the waking world and invaded his dreams, every little nuances that Aaron had, every twitch, every curl of strong lips, every smile and frown, all of it made his dreams so real. And sometimes, in these moments of self-pleasure, imagining only a fantasy he cursed his eidetic memory because he would never have him - rules say so. That, and Hotch is straight, there was no way someone as strong and stoic like Aaron Hotchner could want the scrawny, gangly nerd.

..."Spencer..."...

He fell back, eyes closing, his hips bucking upwards as he twisted his wrist and pumped faster. The husky voice of Aaron's voice a phantom in his ears. He choked back a sob of pleasure as every muscle in his body tightened with each stroke of his hand on his erection. It pulsed beneath his hand and can't help but remember the calloused touch of Aaron's hand when he had touched his shoulder at the picnic earlier that week, when he tripped. He imagined those calloused hands where his own was. The ghost of firm muscle beneath him from when he tumbled into Aaron invaded his thoughts.

...slim legs, lightly muscles, crossed at the ankles pushed against a firm buttox, dragging the man deeper and closer. Lips and tongue tangled together and moans filled the room. Chest to chest, sweat slicked between them, a firm hand reaching between them...

Spencer arched lost in his dreams. He could feel the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, could feel his balls drawing up. The warmth of tears in his eyes, because he knew the fantasy was quickly coming to a close and none of this was real and it'll just be him, alone in his big bed, when he opened his eyes again.

..."God, Spence, I love you..."...

Spencer gasped and moaned, his muscles tightening as he came. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he squeezed his eyes tighter together in hopes of keeping the dreams and the words he'll never hear. That's what sucks about his eidetic memories, dreams and reality, seemed so mixed up sometimes. He wished those words really had passed his lips.

He breathed deeply, his body settling back into his mattress. His eyes hooded, stared up at the ceiling. His dreams fading from his clutches and disappearing into the countless worth of information locked within his own mind. His limbs shook slightly as he pushed himself up and off the bed. His knees wobbled as he stumbled his way through the dark to his bathroom, where he flipped the switched. Slipping out of his soiled briefs, he walked to the sink and washed his hands. His eyes catching his reflection when he was done. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glazed, hair mussed. Casting his eyes aside he grabbed a wash cloth and cleaned himself up before he stumbled over to his dresser and put on a clean pair of underwear. Just as he was about to move back over into bed, his cell phone rang.

"Hello..." he mummbled. His eyes flying wide open and a flush darkening his already flushed cheeks. "Hotch."

"Reid, we have another case." The voice of Aaron Hotchner drifted through line and into his ears.

"I'll be right in." he said.

"And Reid?"

"Yes?"

"Drive safe."

And then there was the dial tone. But Spencer was stuck on the veiled concern in Hotch's voice.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. And sorry it's so short, but well, Happy Christmas! Now we all know what Spencer thoughts on Aaron. Didn't think it's been like 5 months since I updated, damn, time fly's when your mind is on something else. Please leave a review! and I'll try to update faster, but life sometimes has a way of screwing with such plans. Bye!

Ms Llewellyn