Aaron Hotchner bit back a curse. It was all Garcia's fault he thought. She was the one who made the wager with Spencer that she could turn him into a good looking female. Hotch for once wished she hadn't been right.

There had always been something about Spencer, some androgynous quality that made him stand out from the other males on the team. It wasn't that he appeared weak or fragile, but delicate in a way that called to Hotch's protective instincts. Those weren't the instincts being called on right now though.

As Spencer stood in the bar where Garcia had insisted on showing off his look to the team, Hotch was compelled by much baser instincts. The desire to force Spencer to his knees and push his cock between those sinfully red lipsticked lips. To bend him over the nearest flat surface, spread those long long legs and fuck that tight ass showcased by the short skirt he was wearing. He would never do it without Spencer's consent of course, but oh he wanted to.

Hotch swallowed a moan, watching Spencer's smooth stride as he walked towards them in stiletto heels and perched himself daintily on a nearby chair. He tried to keep himself from staring too much, but must not have succeeded as Spencer looked at him and blushed, then peered coyly at him through his eyelashes. Enough was enough, grabbing Spencer's manicured hand, Hotch pulled him towards the door. Catching a smirk of satisfaction on the younger man's face, Hotch decided he might just have to thank Garcia after all.