Archive of Our Own

Love You Like I Do

It wasn’t often Spencer found himself speechless, squirming in discomfort as every word he knows is trapped inside his head, unable to tumble out as they often did. He, and Hotch, were currently sat from across a woman, whose face was hidden by her bleached blonde hair, her dark roots showing her true colours. The woman in question was hiding her face, not because she was guilty or embarrassed, but because she was ashamed.

She was ashamed that it took her so long to see what her boyfriend, a particularly nasty gang banger, was doing to her. She couldn’t see how he had been manipulating her, controlling her movements, her life, destroying her mind and soul piece by piece until all that was left was the visibly trembling wreck she could see in the reflection of the consultation room’s mirror.

“You’re safe with us,” said Hotch softly, reaching across the table to clasp her shaking hand, “He can’t hurt you in here.”

“But he can hurt me out there.” mumbled the woman, her voice barely a whisper, her unnaturally lightened locks covering half of her face. “You don’t know what he can do.”

Spencer’s mouth felt dry, his throat clicking as he tried to swallow. He turned to Hotch, who had his mocha eyes on the woman in front of them. The man’s aura was radiating safety and protection, a combination that even Morgan found hard to resist.

“We do know, Cleo and that’s why we need your help.” Hotch squeezed the woman’s hand gently. “We know what he’s been up to, we just need a statement from you and we know that’s the piece we need to lock him away for good. You can leave if you want, move away, start again with new identities for you and your children. He won’t be able to touch you again.”

“How?” asked the woman, tears in the eye that was visible to them. “He will find me. This is pretty hard to miss!” She used her free hand to pull back her hair to reveal the other half of her face.

Spencer felt bile climb his digestive tract as the woman showed what her supposed loving boyfriend had inflicted on her.

A large, recently crusted-over tattoo covered half of her face. From her hairline down to her jaw was a crudely drawn rendition of Nate Lopez’ face. The harsher lines were still raw and the area around her eye was swollen after the trauma of the needle repeatedly punching the design into her delicate skin.

Spencer could barely fathom the pain she was in. Her face had been disfigured by someone she loved. By someone she had trusted. He schooled his features, eyes landing on the taller man sat next to him.

Hotch hadn’t even winced as Cleo revealed her unwanted face tattoo. He had, however, felt the waves of discomfort radiating from the doctor next to him. He had felt every minute glance, twitch and he had heard every uncomfortable swallow. He could almost hear the panic bubbling in the younger man’s chest, barely supressed as he did his best to will his true feelings to stay hidden behind a mask that he clung onto like a lifeline.

“We can get you help for that. You know, cosmetic procedures are so much more advanced than what they were five years ago.” Hotch squeezed Cleo’s hand again. “Helping us is not a condition of the help we’ll get you. I need you to know that.”

Tears that had gathered in Cleo’s chocolate eyes spilled over her lashes. “I-I tried to love him, and I wanted to, but-” Cleo’s face crumpled and she caught her face in her hands as she allowed the sobs, she’d been desperately trying to hold back, to fall. She managed to catch her breath, muttering a hesitant “He-he’s a monster,” before continuing her cries.

Spencer watched, pulling at his collar as it seemed to tighten around his throat. His eyes glassy with unshed tears. He couldn't breathe.

“Reid, would you mind getting a first aid kit and some tissues?” asked Hotch, his hand on Cleo’s shoulder, regarding the younger man with a neutral expression.

“Ah, sure,” Spencer cleared his throat, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Spencer left the pair in the consultation room, very aware that Hotch had sensed the emotional turmoil in him and in response, had offered him a few moments to collect himself. Ever the hero.

He made his way to the bathroom and locked himself in a stall. Pulling his hands away from the door, he noticed he was shaking. He lowered the toilet lid and sat on it, wincing as he lowered himself, his knee bouncing as his hands grasped at the material of his pants. He blinked hard, face crumpling as he registered moisture trailing down his face.

Like Cleo, he leant forward and cupped his face in his hands as he allowed himself a moment or two to succumb to the emotions he was feeling.

What Nate had done to Cleo was horrendous, neither Spencer or Hotch had to verbalise their thoughts to agree. Their disgust at Nate and their hurt for Cleo was loud between them.

Cleo’s fear, shame, hurt and regret was evident in every trace of her tone and body language. But what had shocked Spencer to his core was that he could sympathise with her situation.

He lowered a hand and let it trail his torso to rest on the small of his back. While he couldn’t see the tattoo that was there, he could feel it, burning into him like a brand.

He sniffled. He knew exactly how Cleo must’ve felt receiving such an unwanted mark, in the name and want of a lover. He knew that she had felt betrayed, defeated, sullied and he could hear the words that Nate would have said to Cleo, as clear as day.

“You’re mine now. No one else will want you once they see you belong to me.”

Spencer felt the bile that he had been holding down since they started the interview rush upwards, barely leaving enough time for him to get off of the toilet and open the lid.

Not much came out but the coffee he had drunk earlier that day. Panting heavily, Spencer wiped his brow with his sleeve and then his mouth with tissue before flushing the evidence of his weakness away.

Get it together, Spencer. No-one can know.

He exited the cubicle and walked over to the sink. He took in his flushed cheeks in the mirror and he willed his mask – the one he had carefully crafted to keep his ridiculously talented profiler colleagues from asking unwanted questions – to stay and remain in place.

He could do this. In an hour or so, he’d be back in his motel room and he could let it fall again before the drive back to DC the following morning. He could do this.

He splashed his face with cold water, patted it dry and after clearing his throat, he walked out of the bathroom with his head held high. He grabbed a first aid kit and tissues and went back into the consultation room, his eyes on Cleo as she regarded the tissue he offered her with a weak smile.

He never did see the flash of concern that flared in Hotch’s eyes. Nor did he see the twitch of fingers that wanted to reach out to comfort him.

Two and a half hours later, Hotch and Spencer left the precinct they were visiting to get back to their motel. Cleo had done incredibly well, she had not only provided a comprehensive and detailed statement, she had supplied screenshots of messages and emails, along with pictures, further incriminating Nate.

As promised, Hotch had sorted out a safe house, with undercover police escort for Cleo and her two children and had already started the paperwork that would give Cleo and her little family a new life, far away from the tainted one she had been a part of in South Carolina.

Their part in the case was done, an FBI liaison was already co-ordinating with the local law enforcement to arrest Nate that night. Spencer knew Hotch wouldn’t sleep until he received that news.

The two had barely spoken, both of them feeling drained from the seven and a half hour drive earlier that day and the emotions that came from the case they were working on.

They entered the motel, bone tired and had merely nodded at one another as they reached their respective rooms, directly opposite one another.

Spencer had just opened his door and was pulling the key card out of the slot when he heard his name tumble gently from Hotch’s mouth. “Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Hotch’s brow was furrowed. Anyone who didn’t know the man would say that he was frowning, but Spencer knew better and that particular look on Hotch’s face scared him. He was thinking, searching and his mind was already beginning to piece the puzzle parts of the day together.

“Y-yeah,” Spencer made a point of meeting Hotch’s eyes, forcing his hazel ones to display unwavering determination. “It’s just hard to see, sometimes, you know?” He willed his mask not to crack under the look he was receiving from Hotch. He could almost feel the Unit Chief’s long fingers digging around in his brain, searching for the last clue to see the final picture.

Hotch gave a nod. “If you need anything…” He gestured to the door behind him.

“Yeah, um, I think I’m just going to have a shower and get to bed.” Spencer took a step into his room. He needed to end the conversation now, before his resolve crumbled. He needed Hotch to stay away. He couldn’t let him see.

“Okay. Sleep well.” replied Hotch softly, his piercing and searching eyes not leaving Spencer’s. “We’ll grab breakfast at 0700. Hopefully we’ll be back in DC before night fall.”

“Sounds good,” Spencer took another step in and broke eye contact, looking into his room, “Good night, Hotch.”

He closed the door behind him and remained still, his back flush to the wood as he held his breath, listening out for Hotch. After a moment or two, he heard the electronic beep of the key card unlocking Hotch’s door and then a gentle click as Hotch entered his room, closing the door behind him.

Spencer looked out through the peephole and after seeing the corridor between their two rooms was empty. He let out a sigh of relief.

He toed off his shoes and dragged himself to the double bed in the centre of the room. Spencer all but collapsed on it, pulling a pillow from the head of the bed down to his chest, holding it tight as he allowed more tears to fall.

After an hour of sobbing into the pillow at his chest, he pushed himself up and stumbled towards the bathroom, congested and his head pounding with pressure. He blindly reached into the shower cubicle and turned it on, ignoring the cold stream of water drenching the arm of his sweater and shirt.

He stepped away and began to take off his clothes, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor until he was just in his boxers and shirt. With trembling hands, he began to unbutton the shirt and once it was undone, he closed his eyes before letting it fall to rest with the other articles of clothing.

He took a deep shaky breath and turned a hundred and eighty degrees before opening his eyes. He turned his head to observe the reflection in the mirror, the water and bathroom not yet humid enough to blur his form with steam.

A whimper escaped Spencer’s lips as his watery eyes fell onto the very thing that had him so out of sorts.

A tattoo. Still as dark and as vivid against his porcelain skin as when he had first laid eyes on it three months ago.

The world around him drifted away as his eidetic memory decided to replay the events that led him to carry such a mark.

Spencer mewled as his partner thrust into him one last time before painting his insides with his release. He stopped the movements of his hips and breathed heavily.

Spencer, yet to find his own release, waited patiently, tilting his head to peer at his partner over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah, that was great.” He pulled out, groaning at the sight of his spend leaking from Spencer’s hole. He raised a hand to slap it. “You’ve got such a pretty ass, Spencer.” He commented lustily, watching his hand print bloom on the alabaster skin.

Spencer scrunched his eyes shut, the sting of the blow taking his breath from him and not in a good way. “Th-thanks, Andrew.” stuttered the doctor as the blond behind moved to lay in bed.

“Was it good for you?” He asked, his blue eyes roaming Spencer’s naked form and landing on his still hard cock. His eyes returned to Spencer’s, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah, it’s always good.” replied Spencer. At his answer, Andrew lifted an arm, inviting Spencer in to cuddle. Spencer knew better than to criticise.

He had met Andrew at his favourite coffee shop three months before. He had quite literally bumped into him, making the well dressed man drop his coffee. Spencer had stammered out an apology and offered to replace it, only to be met with a charming smile and a nonchalant wave of a hand.

“It’s no big deal, Spencer.” replied Andrew, reading the hastily scrawled name on the side of Spencer’s cup. “Accidents happen and we learn. The lesson I’ve learnt here is not to get distracted by pretty things like you while holding a hot drink.”

Spencer had blushed and walked away from the interaction with a business card.

Spencer had called the next day and Andrew had whisked him off for dinner. At the end of the night, despite his initial feeling of not wanting to sleep with Andrew just yet, Spencer did.

When the doctor thought back to that night, he told himself it was because he wanted to and not because Andrew had guilt tripped him into it after spending a fair amount of money on him at dinner and for, of course, spilling his coffee the previous day.

Yes, falling into bed with the man had happened a little earlier than Spencer wanted, but he’d had a good time and Andrew had made him feel incredible.

That feeling lasted all of two weeks before Andrew stopped catering to Spencer’s needs, only focusing on his own and leaving Spencer aching and unsatisfied.

When Spencer had brought it up, Andrew had simply walked out without a word. He didn’t respond to Spencer’s calls and messages for two weeks until he rocked up at Spencer’s one night without notice.

“You just make me feel like I’m not good enough, Spencer. We had fun, didn’t we?” He had proceeded to get more upset until Spencer had caved and apologised for making him feel that way.

Had Spencer had all of his faculties about him, he would have seen it was then he should have split up with Andrew.

The overly charming blond showered Spencer with gifts, dinners and kisses and as far as Spencer was concerned, they were getting back on track. Unbeknownst to Spencer, it wasn’t a track he wanted to walk down.

When the intimacy returned to the bedroom, Spencer was optimistic as Andrew took the time to touch him in all the places he craved. Again, he was left aching and wanting as Andrew pulled out after cumming inside him.

Andrew smiled down at the man beneath him. “That was great!”

Spencer nodded and his eyes drifted down to his aching cock, precum dripping from his slit and his prick an unhealthy shade of red. “Um.”

“Oh, this again,” Andrew rolled his eyes as he pulled harshly out of Spencer, making the doctor gasp. “You came, look, it’s on the sheets.”

Spencer blushed with embarrassment and trembled with fear as Andrew regarded him with an angry expression. He spoke softly, in an attempt to placate Andrew. “But, but that’s just precum, I-I didn’t-” Spencer’s words were cut off as a slap landed on his face.

Spencer froze, his mind unable to absorb the shock of Andrew’s actions. He lifted his hand to cradle his heated face, tears springing to his eyes. “I-I-”

“How is it my fault that you’re such a whore, Spencer? Fucking hell, for someone as intelligent as you, you can be really thick sometimes. I’ve done my job, we both got off, what more do you fucking want from me?!”

“N-nothing.” mumbled Spencer, dropping his gaze to his lap. He tensed as he felt Andrew lean forward and press a kiss to his untouched cheek.

“You’re lucky I love you, you know. I’m willing to work through whatever bullshit this is. No-one else would.” Andrew scooped Spencer into his arms and cuddled him to his chest. “Being needy isn’t attractive, Spencer, no-one else will love you like I do.”

As hard as it was for Spencer to hear the words, his internal response terrified him.

He believed Andrew.

And what was worse was that Andrew knew he believed him. He had felt the fight drain from Spencer as he allowed himself to manhandled into his arms.

From then on, it was a constant cycle. Andrew would seduce Spencer, fuck him and either beat him for voicing – or even displaying – his displeasure or cuddle him if Spencer played ball. He would start the next day, apologetically sweet, all while throwing in hidden insults and outright venom the doctor’s way. Then night would roll around and the cycle would start again.

Then it got worse.

Andrew began getting angry at Spencer for his unsociable working hours, taking his frustrations out on the caramel haired man. He’d ‘forget’ to use lube, he’d ‘forget’ that Spencer didn’t like being hit and he’d ‘forget’ that Spencer worked with some of the best minds in the world, forcing the doctor to experience massive anxiety over hiding the bruises and mental trauma he was experiencing on a daily basis.

When Spencer had to inform Andrew that he had to fly out to California for a case that was expected to take two weeks, he’d almost had a panic attack in the bathrooms at work. He was a ball of nerves by the time he got home, his brain pushing every possible reaction that Andrew could have to the forefront of his mind.

When he told him, Andrew merely nodded and pressed a kiss to the younger man’s temple. “That’s fine, just remember to message every night. I’d hate for you to forget about me.”

Despite his worries over Andrew's lack of reaction, Spencer had enjoyed California. He enjoyed working such a hard case with his friends and he had quietly enjoyed the space between him and Andrew. He almost felt like he was back to being himself, he was joining in with Morgan’s banter again, he was enjoying being around Emily and JJ and he loved the back and forth about theories and previous cases and studies he had with Rossi.

He especially loved sharing a room with Hotch. Hotch had always been the most respectful of his routines and in Spencer’s opinion, he was the best to share a room with.

At night, the two would relax in their respective beds, discussing any and all thoughts that popped into their heads. Their bed and morning routines were tuned to a fine art and in the morning, Hotch would greet Spencer with a small smile and a quiet “morning” before getting ready for the day.

Spencer loved sharing a space with Hotch. He didn’t have to walk on eggshells, he didn’t have to hide his intelligence for fear of being ridiculed or upsetting Hotch. For a moment, Spencer imagined that is what true love could feel like, before his gut writhed like a pit of snakes as Andrew’s words echoed in his head.

“You’re lucky I’m with you. You look like a teenage boy, nobody in their right mind would look at you.”

“If you keep spouting shit like that, no-one will like you. It pisses me off, so I can only imagine that others feel the same way.”

“Honestly, a scrawny fucker like you being an FBI agent, it’s laughable. It’s not like you’re strong enough to do anything, is it?”

“You’re such a needy bitch, Spencer. Your ‘friends’ are probably glad to be shot of you at the end of the day. Good thing I’m here for you, isn’t it?”

“No-one will love you like I do. I’m the best you’re ever going to get, you should be thankful that I touch you like I do. You’re such a whore.”

That spark, that moment of joy Spencer allowed himself to feel, imagining Hotch loving him, died. There was just no way someone like Hotch would love him.

When he returned to DC, he arrived home to see a meal set on the table. Glasses of wine bubbling and the smell of chicken and roast potatoes assaulting his senses. He sat down, at Andrew’s request, and they both tucked in talking about what they had been up to over the last fortnight.

For once, Spencer was truly happy to be in Andrew’s presence. He felt safe and warm and loved.

After steadily sipping his wine throughout the meal, Spencer could feel himself getting sleepy and he excused himself from the table.

“It’s been a long two weeks, I’m sure you need your rest. Don’t worry about all this, I’ll clear it up.” soothed Andrew.

When Spencer woke up the following morning, his back was on fire.

He reached his hand over, shivering as the cool morning air caressed his bare body. He didn’t remember getting undressed.

His fingers pressed into his back, only to be met with a crinkling sound of cling film and a sharp throb spreading through his senses. His eyes opened wide, all traces of sleep gone as he tried to push himself up.

When he found he couldn’t, he whimpered out loud.

“Oh, I wouldn’t get up if I were you.” said Andrew, as he leant against the doorframe. His arms were folded across his bare chest and the sunlight filtering through the curtains turned his hair gold.

“What, what happened? Why can’t I get up?” cried Spencer.

“You know, I’ve tried Spencer. I’ve really tried, but it is so hard to love you sometimes, especially when you go away for so long.” Andrew stepped into the room, making Spencer flinch. “I worried about you those two weeks you know. Then you told me that you shared a bed with Hotch-”

“I shared a room, there were separate beds. We room together sometimes on cases, I told you that!”

Andrew ignored him. “You talk about him a lot, you know.”

“He’s my boss!” Spencer sobbed. The pain and his current vulnerability just too much for him to handle. “I speak about the others too.”

“No,” hissed Andrew, sitting next to Spencer’s prone form. “There’s something different about him.”

Spencer pressed his face into the comforter beneath him. His tears fell hot down his face. “I didn’t do anything.” He cried.

“It doesn’t matter. Now you have a permanent reminder of who you belong to, he’ll never want you. No-one ever will. No-one will love you like I do.” Andrew stroked Spencer’s hair. “For an FBI agent, you were pretty stupid to drink a spiked drink.”

Spencer’s blood turned to ice. “Y-you drugged me?”

“Was for your own good.” He pressed a kiss to Spencer’s locks before standing up and undoing his belt.

Spencer shuddered at the hiss it produced as it was pulled through belt hoops. It thunked as it hit the floor and he sobbed when he heard Andrew’s zipper. “Please.”

“I’ve waited two weeks to have that pretty ass of yours. I’m not waiting any longer.”

The bed dipped as Andrew’s weight settled next to Spencer’s thighs. He crudely spread Spencer’s legs and stroked himself at the sight. “Oh, silly me. I’ve left the lube in the bathroom. It'll be alright, I'll be quick.”

Spencer cried out as he heard Andrew spit into his hand. “Andrew, please!”

“Accidents happen, Spencer, and you’ve got to learn.”

Spencer trembled as he took in the inked design on the small of his back. It was a simple tattoo really. Just words. Thick, bold and dark hued words, permanently etched into his skin, against his will. Andrew's stupid whore.

He closed his eyes and willed the nausea in bubbling in his stomach to go away. He turned again and looked at his reflection once more.

Eyes brimming at the silver glinting in the bathroom’s lighting.

Andrew hadn’t stopped there. The novelty of Spencer’s tattoo had worn off and Andrew had found a new way to make Spencer prove he was worth his affection and time.

He stepped into the hot spray of the shower and let the water soothe the tension he had been feeling all day. He quickly washed his hair before moving to clean his body. His hands brushed over the piercing in his nipples, wincing as he remembered the needles pressing through his skin.

He hadn’t been drugged for that.

Again, he hadn’t wanted them either, but Andrew had manipulated Spencer into getting them. Spencer had refused at first, a fear of needles – not because of what they could do, but of what they represented – doing little to sway Andrew from his idea.

“Love hurts Spencer, you’ve proved that to me so many times, it’s only fair you return the favour.” Andrew had said, absentmindedly stroking Spencer’s curls after spending himself in the doctor’s mouth, leaving Spencer, once again, unsatisfied. “Nobody will love you like I do and if you loved me, you would. You do love me, don’t you?”

Spencer, with hidden tears, mumbled a yes, satisfying the man he was curled into.

Spencer quickly washed his torso before stopping short of his groin. His hands shook and he willed himself to carry on. He looked down and felt his face scrunch up as he took in the sight of his flaccid cock.

This was the latest addition to his body that Andrew had demanded and it had been the most humiliating by far.

Two of Andrew’s friends had been over and when Spencer returned from work one evening, with the knowledge that he had the weekend off, he paled.

He had recognised one of them as the man that had pierced his nipples. His eagerness to do so, despite Spencer’s protests, sickening. Spencer hovered in the doorway, debating whether or not to turn and leave when Andrew’s face appeared in the hallway.

“What are you doing? You’re letting the warm air out! Get in, you fuckwit.”

Spencer felt a shiver run down his spine and he could already feel his skin turning clammy. He closed the door and faced his boyfriend.

“Well, what are you waiting for, come in.” Andrew grabbed Spencer by the wrist and pulled him into the living room. “Aren’t you going to say hello? You remember Paul, don’t you?”

“H-hello.”

“Kind of nervous, isn’t he?” commented the one guy Spencer didn’t recognise.

“It’ll be alright, Glyn, he knows how to behave.” said Andrew cockily, making the other two men laugh. “Why don’t you get yourself comfortable, Spencer?”

“F-for what?” asked Spencer, his voice thick. He clenched his hands into fists in an effort to stop his trembling from becoming visible.

“I had another one of my great ideas.” said Andrew, reaching over to the coffee table to pick up his open bottle of beer. “I know how you can prove you love me.”

“You know I love you.” said Spencer softly, his voice hitching in the back of his throat.

“Yeah, I mean, you say that, but it’s hard to believe you sometimes.”

“I haven’t done anything.” Spencer’s bottom lip trembled, prompting a snort from Paul.

“So defensive. I can see what you mean, Andy.”

Andrew gestured to Glyn. “You see what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Spencer looked at the three of them and cursed himself for not walking out when he first had the idea. There was no way he could wrestle off the men in front of him should they choose to restrain him. “Andrew,” Spencer turned to look at the blond in front of him, “Please.”

“Take your clothes off and don’t make me tell you again, I’d hate for you to have an accident. You know what happens when you have an accident.”

Spencer’s chest heaved. “I love you, I swear I do.”

Andrew placed the bottle he was holding down carefully. “Don’t make me tell you again.” His eyes flashed dangerously and his voice dropped.

Spencer sniffled as he removed his clothing, a crimson flush settling on his cheeks and spreading to his chest as the three in front of him watching him.

“Oh, they’ve healed well.” said Paul, looking at the silver bars embedded in Spencer’s nipples.

“Turn around,” sneered Glyn, “Let me see my handiwork. It’s only fair.”

After seeing Andrew’s raised eyebrow and a flex of his arm, Spencer turned.

“Oh, you’re right, Andy, that does add a bit of colour. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, ‘course I do,” Andrew crossed the floor and slapped Spencer’s rear, “It’s so much more interesting to look at instead of his skinny ass. Honestly, it actually makes me want him that bit more, knowing that he's so clearly mine.”

Spencer’s flush darkened. He felt sick.

“Well, how did you want to do this?” asked Paul, pulling out his piercing equipment.

Spencer froze and tried to back away but Andrew caught him in his arms. “No, no, don’t! Please!”

“It might be best if we hold him down.” huffed Andrew as Spencer squirmed in his arms. He tightened his hold on Spencer, effectively pinning him against his chest and restricting the amount of air Spencer could breathe in. “It’ll all be over soon, Spencer. You will look so much better this way. I promise.”

“No! Stop! Please, Andrew! Stop this!” pleaded Spencer through tears.

Glyn walked over and helped Andrew pin Spencer to the floor, settling the entirety of his weight on Spencer’s legs, while Andrew sat on Spencer’s chest and used his legs to pin Spencer’s arms to the ground.

Spencer stopped writhing when he felt Paul grope his cock. “Stop!” cried Spencer, sobs wracking his frame. “I don’t want it!”

He felt something press to his tip and then he heard a click. He threw his head back to scream, hot tears coursing down his face as pain engulfed his cock.

“Stop being such a drama queen,” scolded Andrew, watching with eager eyes as Paul loaded another piercing into his gun, “You’re meant to love me. I’m doing this for us! No fucker will love you like I do!”

Spencer stopped screaming when he felt the gun press to his cock again. He didn’t even feel the next piercing forced into his flesh.

He had fainted.

Spencer slid down the tiles that had been warmed by the shower, and wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging them tightly to his chest.

His cock ached, the piercings were done yesterday and Spencer had woken up to an empty home. Andrew and his friends were gone and they had left him, unconscious, in the midst of their mess, surrounded by empty beer bottles, wrappers from snacks they had eaten throughout the day, his clothes and small droplets of blood.

Spencer looked down at his cock and felt his face crumple. He wanted to cry but he couldn’t. He had no tears left to give at that point.

But now? Despite his cry earlier, he felt tears spring to his eyes and he let them fall. His shoulders juddering as he sobbed into the spray of his shower.

He had noted that when they dealt with cases with abusive partners, they always ask the question ‘Why didn’t you just leave or report it?’. Spencer had learnt, and he was sure that Cleo had also learnt, that it wasn’t always that simple.

Andrew had ensnared Spencer with his charm and kindness and little by little, he had been manipulated until he felt he really could do no better. All of Andrew’s words floated around in Spencer’s head, constantly taunting him.

The question any law enforcement officer should ask in the case of an abusive partner should be ‘What would happen if you left?’.

Spencer shivered, the water of his shower gone cold. He knelt up and turned it off before sitting back down on the floor.

He admired Cleo. She had found the strength to leave and it warmed him to know she wouldn’t suffer anymore.

But how long did it take for her to get to that point? Was it the tattoo on her face? Spencer ran a hand over his own. Would that be Andrew’s next move?

His musings were interrupted when he heard a knock on his door. He froze with fear before realising who it could be. He scrambled to get out of the bathroom, grabbing the complimentary robe and wrapping it tightly around his frame. He smoothed his hair back and took a steady, centring breath before answering the door.

“H-Hotch.” stuttered Spencer, taking in the concerned look on his boss’ face. “Everything alright?”

Hotch lifted his phone. “They got him.”

Spencer mirrored the relief that Hotch showed at the news. Spencer left the door open and grabbed his phone to check the time, it was gone 2300. Had he really been in the shower that long? He saw fifteen text messages from Andrew on his home screen and Spencer shuddered.

Hotch stepped into the room, observing Spencer’s behaviour. “Are you sure everything is alright, Spencer?”

Spencer turned, the use of his given name falling from Hotch’s lips momentarily throwing him.

He stood still, like a deer caught in headlights, as Hotch gently closed the door behind him.

Hotch kept himself flush against the door, giving Spencer space. He had noticed a change in the youngest member of his team, he’d noticed it for a while. He’d tried to talk to Spencer about it in the past but the man brushed off his concerns with a smile.

That had concerned him immensely.

But even now, he could tell that Spencer was on an edge. Something had happened and the case that they had worked with Cleo had clearly hit too close to home.

Hotch could sense that how he played the next few moments would help Spencer decide what it was he needed to do.

“I’m glad Cleo’s safe.” Hotch started gently, testing the waters. It was something about Cleo that had upset the doctor earlier.

Spencer nodded. “She deserves it, after everything Nate did.”

Hotch could see tension radiating through the younger man, he was as taut as a bowstring and so close to snapping. “I wish I could have helped her earlier.”

Spencer frowned. “But, but, you didn’t know about it until this morning.”

Hotch shrugged, “True, I still wish I could have, though.”

Spencer flinched as his phone pinged, signalling another text message’s arrival. “She probably felt she couldn’t ask for help. You know, Nate practically brainwashed her.”

Hotch nodded slowly. “Sure, I can’t imagine what he said to her to make her think she wasn’t worthy of help or kindness.”

Spencer’s hazel eyes snapped up to Hotch’s warm brown ones. “I think she was brave, to seek help, I mean.”

“Yeah, she was brave,” Hotch took a tentative step into the room, noting with an aching heart that Spencer didn’t move away from him like he did before. “She was terrified too. It couldn't have been easy, not knowing who she could turn to.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath. “That decision changed her life,” Spencer wrapped his arms around himself and he sniffed, “Whatever the outcome, it would have changed everything. I feel like, sometimes, change is hard. When you’re so used to something, and it’s something you feel you deserve, losing that security… it’s hard.”

Hotch hummed in agreement, his mind racing at the implication of Spencer’s words. He felt his heart start to break. It made so much sense; his behaviour, his forced smiles, how he held himself, how he spoke. A lightbulb pinged in his head.

Spencer had mentioned meeting someone in a coffee shop five months ago. He had remembered seeing Spencer practically skip into the bullpen and he had remembered his own feelings of loss, longing and jealousy as Morgan had teased the doctor good naturedly about the recent development.

He had seen how after a month, Spencer had withdrawn, spoken only when he was spoken to, was anxious to leave on time and made a point of staying away from him. Gone were the funny and interesting factoids he spouted, and Hotch missed them terribly.

He had an impenetrable mask permanently attached to his face to the point Hotch was scared he was using again. Respectful of Spencer’s unvoiced wishes, he’d maintained a distance, watching from afar.

“That kind of treatment Cleo was getting, wasn’t security, Spencer.” whispered Hotch gently. “It was abuse. What Nate did, was abuse. And no-one deserves that. Not Cleo and not you.”

Spencer looked up at Hotch, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth and Hotch prepared himself to take a step back or leave, as soon as the younger man requested it, but the words he expected to hear weren’t verbalised.

Instead, a tearfully whispered “I want to be brave, but I don’t know how to leave him,” reached his ears and Hotch crossed the room to envelope Spencer in his arms.

Spencer clutched at Hotch like a lifeline as he sobbed into his chest. Feeling Spencer begin to drop with the weight of the emotion he was expressing, Hotch held him tight and lowered them both to the carpeted floor. He ran his hand through Spencer’s damp curls and rubbed a strong hand up and down his back, his fingers travelling over the bumps of Spencer’s spine.

After what felt like an age, Spencer’s sobs quietened to sniffles as he tucked his head into the crook of Hotch’s neck. He remembered that he was in a dressing gown and he flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Spence.” soothed Hotch, sniffing as he pressed a kiss to Spencer’s curls. His lower legs tingled with pins and needles as Spencer had sat on them, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer pulled his head back to peer at Hotch and the sight broke the Unit Chief’s heart. His eyes were purple from the amount of tears he had shed, his cheeks were flushed, his lips were swollen, his nose was red and he was fighting to regulate his breathing. But what broke Hotch’s heart most of all was the fear and doubt in Spencer’s eyes.

“You can’t-, I don’t-,” Spencer whimpered and let his head fall back to Hotch’s chest.

“It’s okay,” Hotch began to rock them both slightly as he comforted the younger man in his lap. “He can’t hear you, right now, you know that, don’t you?” He felt Spencer nod into his shoulder. “You’re safe with me and we can stop any time, all right?”

They sat in silence for a long time, Spencer being lulled and comforted by Hotch’s hand rubbing his back and the gentle swaying motion he had started in an earlier attempt to soothe him.

“It was alright, at first,” began Spencer, his voice wobbling, “Andrew was kind and really charming.” Feeling Hotch nod and sniffling at the warmth and care he was providing as he began to speak, Spencer continued.

Everything that he had experienced in the last five months, tumbled from the younger man’s lips and Hotch forced himself to remain silent as he listened.

He kept up the stroking and rocking as Spencer spoke, not only did it work to soothe the doctor, but it aided him in his mission to remain calm as a surge of bloodlust began to grow in his belly, growing the more the doctor spoke.

He listened silently as Spencer told him about the first time they slept together, the first time Spencer voiced feelings about later times they slept together, the first time Andrew had manipulated him by not speaking to him for two weeks, the first time he had hit Spencer, the first time he had verbally abused and degraded Spencer, the first time he had intentionally hurt Spencer, the first time he had raped Spencer, the first time he had drugged Spencer, the first time he had tattooed Spencer without his consent, the first time he had pierced Spencer’s flesh without permission and the first time he had humiliated Spencer by making him undress in front of his friends.

For the first time in his life, Hotch thanked his late father for providing him with the lessons he needed to learn how to control the mask currently settled on his features.

“Spencer, none and I mean none of that was your fault.”

“Andrew said-”

“Andrew is a cunt,” Hotch all but growled, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s head as he tensed upon hearing his tone, “You did nothing wrong.”

Spencer’s eyes teared up. “Then why did he do it?”

“He is a narcissistic, deranged, abusive asshole, Spencer. He took advantage of you.”

Spencer wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I must’ve done something. I did everything he asked… I loved him or at least, I thought I did.”

“Maybe at first,” agreed Hotch, groaning as he stretched his legs out, “but that wasn’t love, Spence. It was fear. And you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Spencer’s frame shook as he yawned. It was well past 0130 now and he was drained.

“Are you cold?” asked Hotch, rubbing Spencer’s arm in effort to warm him up.

“A little, but I just need to change.” Spencer stilled half way through his attempt to get up. “Would you mind leaving while I do?”

Hotch groaned as he picked himself up off of the floor, shaking his legs out as he made his way to the door. “Do you want me to come back?”

“Please.”

“Alright, I’ll be back in 5, okay?”

Spencer nodded and squatted to pull his pajamas out of his suitcase when a pained gasp escaped him.

Halfway out the door, Hotch froze before turning back. “Spencer, you alright?” He stepped back into the room to see Spencer’s hands in between his legs. Colour drained from Hotch’s face.

“Let me help.” Hotch bent to pick out Spencer’s pajamas and peered into the almost lifeless hazel eyes. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me, alright?”

Spencer straightened and tightened his dressing gown around him. “I-” He faltered and broke off, more tears gathering in his eyes.

Hotch vowed there and then, if he ever laid eyes on Andrew, he’d kill him. How many more tears was this man going to make Spencer shed? “Look at me.” said Hotch softly.

Spencer’s breath hitched as he turned his head to catch Hotch’s gaze. “This all started because I didn’t cum. That’s what I did wrong.”

Hotch shook his head. “No, he didn’t do what a lover should do and he took his frustrations out on you which led to him taking advantage. You are more than entitled to tell your partner if something didn’t work for you.”

Hotch reached out to place his hand on Spencer’s trembling one. “Spencer, you can trust me, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just helping you get dressed, alright?”

Spencer nodded and squeezed Hotch’s hand. “I trust you, Aaron.”

At the use of his name, Hotch gave Spencer a small smile and he unravelled Spencer’s dressing gown. Much like Spencer did earlier, he felt bile rising at the sight before him.

“I-it’s called a M-magic Cross piercing,” supplied Spencer tearfully.

Hotch took in the swollen head, the dried blood and the four silver bearings protruding from the tip of Spencer’s penis. “Did you consent to this?” he whispered.

“N-no, I didn’t.” Spencer cried. “I begged them to stop, Aaron, I screamed at them to stop.”

This time, Hotch let Spencer see the tears that had gathered in his eyes. He pressed a kiss to Spencer’s forehead and wrapped him in a tight hug, mindful of his mutilated prick. “He’s not going to lay another finger on you. If he wants to try, he’ll have to get through me.”

Hotch let go and helped Spencer change into his pajamas before he took Spencer by the hand and led him into the bed.

Spencer looked at him with confusion before he realised that Hotch was going to hold him as he slept, something that Andrew had never done. Yes, he cuddled Spencer after sex, if he had earnt it, but he had never held him while they slept. The fact that Hotch was so willing to hold him, without reason, made his bottom lip tremble. He laid his head on Hotch’s chest and let himself be lulled to sleep by the older man’s breathing and warm, strong hand stroking his back.

Once Spencer was asleep, Hotch carefully shuffled out of bed and grabbed his phone. Despite the hour being 0240, he knew that there were two people that would answer his call.

And boy, did he have a call or two to make.

“Good morning, my liege. How can I help?”

“Garcia, I need you to find out info on the names I’m about to give you. Then I want you to give them to Morgan, I want their asses in jail by the time I get back to DC this evening.”

“Sure, anything in particular?” came Penelope’s question.

“No, anything and everything. Though, if there’s illicit materials suddenly on any of their devices, I’d be happy to turn a blind eye.”

“Sir? Is everything alright?”

Hotch turned to observe Spencer’s sleeping form. “It will be.”

When Spencer woke up the following morning, he felt a warm presence behind him. He tensed, ready to run when the figure behind him mumbled a sweet “morning, Spence”.
Hotch? Hotch! He was in bed with Hotch! Spencer peered over his shoulder, fear coursing through his veins making him shake. Andrew, what was Andrew going to say? He grabbed his phone and saw he had thirty four messages and twelve missed calls. Oh, Andrew was going to kill him.

He moved to sit up, but Hotch’s hand squeezed his bicep. “H-Hotch, please.”

“You don’t need to worry about him, Spence.” Hotch moved forward and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“B-but-”

“He’s not going to touch you again.” Hotch sighed as he felt Spencer relax a little. “Now, I think you should lay back down and get a little more sleep, okay? You’re safe here, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Spencer settled and regarded Hotch with a warm expression. “Really?”

Hotch clumsily lifted an arm and cupped Spencer’s face. “Yeah, really.” He cleared his throat. “And, if and when you’re ready, I’d like to show you how safe you can be with me.”

Tears sprung to Spencer’s eyes. “You’d wait?”

“Yeah, for as long as you need me to.” Hotch wiped a stray tear with the pad of his thumb.

Spencer’s face scrunched. “E-even with everything An-he did?” The doctor gestured to his body.

“Even with everything he did.” Hotch leant over and pressed a kiss to Spencer’s cheek. “We can get that all sorted if and when you want. We’ll work on it on your time, okay? No deadlines, no conditions, it’s all up to you and I’ll follow your lead, alright? I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Aaron…”

“It’ll be okay. I’m here and you’re safe with me. Always, okay?”

The spark of joy that Spencer had felt when he had shared a room with Hotch in California two months ago flickered deep in his gut.

No eggshells, no hiding his intelligence, no hiding his desire. He would be listened to, respected, loved and he would be safe. Aaron would let no harm come to him.

Spencer leant his forehead against Hotch’s lips. It would be a journey, gruelling and with many setbacks he was sure, but the spark inside him grew a little brighter. He could see a life with Aaron in the distance.

“I think I’d like that.” whispered Spencer. He closed his eyes with a gentle sigh as Hotch pressed another kiss to his temple.

And if he was suspicious of Hotch, when it later turned out that Andrew had illegal and explicit materials on his computer, he didn’t let it show.

When Andrew, Glyn and Paul were sentenced, he didn’t give them the satisfaction of reacting, his smile as Andrew was led past him was more than enough.

He felt Aaron squeeze his hand and he squeezed back, both of them sharing a relieved and tender look.

They could start their journey now and Spencer was too excited to reach the final destination, knowing that Aaron would keep him safe, every step of the way.