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New Fic: Find Me Quick, Baby Girl (Criminal Minds, Morgan/Garcia, NC17)
Title: Find Me Quick, Baby Girl
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rivestra
Rating: NC17
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Morgan/Other, Morgan/Garcia
Spoilers: Not even a tiny one
Warnings: Um… highly negligent bondage practices?
Disclaimer: Not mine, not in the least. I’m just having a little fun.
Length: 1,850
Summary: Morgan gets himself into a tricky situation...
NEED YOU.
JUST YOU.
FIND ME QUICK, BABY GIRL.
Penelope stared at the text for maybe 30 seconds before she started the GPS search on Derek’s phone. Two minutes later, she was out the door.
Paused in the plush hallway, she wondered belatedly if she should have called the rest of the team. She shook herself; it was too late. Derek’s phone was in this building, and the hotel’s records indicated he was behind this door: number 116, rented in his own name.
No way was she going to stand there in the hall and wait for backup; Derek never would have asked her to come alone if it was dangerous. She knocked quickly before doubt could get a better grip on her.
Nothing.
She knocked again, this time closing her eyes and pressing her ear into the door, listening for any sounds coming from within.
Dead silence.
Penelope shuddered and vowed to choose her words more carefully, even only in her own head. She pounded on the door, face still pressed tightly against it. Derek was okay; he had to be. He wasn’t even working tonight, and something happening to him when he wasn’t was just too...
She nearly leapt out of her skin when the maid tapped her shoulder. She did jump enough to knock the tiny Hispanic woman back several feet and nearly down. Penelope reached out to help steady the woman, and she babbled as she did, “…left my key inside and my husband’s asleep. He could sleep through a tornado; I’m never going to wake him up pounding on the door like this… not with how soundproof your rooms are. I don’t suppose you could…” she gestured at the keys hanging from the woman’s uniform, trying to keep the desperation she was feeling off her face.
“Si, Senora. Just let me confirm.” The woman reached into her pocket and produced a walkie-talkie. “What is your name?”
“Penelope,” she blurted before she had a chance to think. Hastily, she added, “Morgan. Penelope Morgan.” She noticed that her hands were shaking when she pointed at the door again, so she crossed them over her chest and willed them to stay put.
Penelope listened as well as she could while the woman spoke into the walkie-talkie, but her limited Spanish (and why hadn’t she learned Spanish? Really, it would be more useful than either Japanese or Korean, at least here in DC) only allowed her to recognize a few words: ‘door’, ‘crazy lady’ and ‘Mrs. Morgan’. After what seemed like forever, the maid pocketed her radio and reached for her keys.
Penelope smiled. She hoped it was more reassuring and thankful than loca. “Thank you – Gracias!”
The maid fit her key into the lock and pushed the door slightly inward. As soon as the room’s seal was broken, Penelope could hear a steady, rhythmic thumping and a low, growling whir coming from inside and was suddenly and completely certain she didn’t want the maid entering the room.
She grabbed the woman’s hand to stop the door from opening further and brought a finger to her lips in what she hoped was a universal shushing gesture. “Gracias.” Penelope tugged the woman gently away from the door. “Muchas gracias.” She turned the maid around toward the hall and gave the woman a tiny shove, muttering, “Via con Dios,” at the woman’s back as she moved off toward the stairwell.
Quickly, Penelope spun around and ducked into the room, closing the door behind her with a near-silent snick. The room was dim but not dark – a plush mini-suite illuminated only by the scarlet-tinged sunset streaming in through the brown velvet drapes. Her eyes swept right past him the first time as she glanced to her right, over the bed and on toward the window, taking in the rust-colored carpet, the heavy oak armoire, the tan and red striped furniture with its tasseled, golden pillows…
Penelope wrenched her eyes back toward the bed, knowing she’d make one hell of a dead field agent. The door convulsed behind her and it took a second for her to realize it was her knees trying to give out, not the maid returning with security. Not that it would have mattered: either way, there was no way she was tearing her eyes off the bed now that they’d finally settled there.
Derek was spread out in front of her, facing into those fading rays of sunlight, completely oblivious to her. Sweat poured off every inch of him she could see – which was pretty much every inch – and he was straining, muscles tense and beautiful against the restraints at his ankles, thighs, arms and wrists.
She drew in a shaky breath, hoping it would make her brains cells engage, even just a little bit.
Derek was propped up on pillows under his stomach, angled ass-up and head down, chest heaving, neck stretched and vulnerable, reaching into the sun. The light limned him, licking along his taught abdomen and thighs, carving him from deep shadows and fire. He was more perfect than any Greek statue and absolutely stunning in the fading light.
The whir-thump continued unabated, finally drawing her attention again. Penelope moved a bit further into the room, looking for the source, and she stopped short again when she found it, her ragged breathing stopping altogether. The device sat on the far side of the bed, motor tucked between Derek’s legs. A long drive shaft extended from the motor, pumping relentlessly, clicking mechanically on each out-stroke, driving deep into Derek on the in-stroke.
Derek pushed desperately into the pillow beneath him in a ragged counterpoint to the machine ramming into him. At first, Penelope couldn’t tell if he was searching for friction or trying to get away from… no, he was pushing back into the pounding. That much she could see, even in the dim light. Her breath came out in a harsh rush. Now that she’d identified the other sounds, Penelope could hear his muffled moaning each time it shoved deep. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see the silicone covered rod pulling almost all the way out of him before sinking in deep once again, Derek gaping red and angry and slick in the wake of its merciless push.
Penelope shook herself and came further around the bed. She’d taken two steps before she suddenly hit the floor, tripping on Derek’s shoes tucked in neatly beside the bed. She used the bedpost to pull herself up, and as she came level with the top of the mattress, she also came face to face with Derek. There was a large red ball strapped between his lips, and her own mouth was suddenly, desperately dry. She tried to swallow, failed and tried again, this time wondering just how long she’d been wandering around the room with her jaw dropped, worse than useless.
She practically lunged for the strap on the gag, casting the thing violently aside as soon as it was free, absolutely needing to hear his voice that very second.
He coughed instead, convulsing a bit into the pillows under his hips. Penelope studied the table next to the bed, studied his neatly folded shirt and trousers, the balled up socks she’d knocked nearly under the bed when she tripped, anything but him until he cleared his throat loudly and said, “Sweetness, I could really use some help here. This is not the time to get shy on me…”
Startled and ashamed, Penelope leapt to action, repeating, “Sorry! Sorry!” over and over while she attacked the buckles on the leather holding his nearest wrist in place. She took the cell phone gently from his hand as she removed the restraint. Tentatively, she asked, “Did someone… should I call…” Derek shook his head and gave her a weary but genuine smile. Penelope shut up and moved on to free his other hand.
Once she had both his arms released, she stopped short, staring down at the rest of him. “Do you… what…” When, exactly, had she lost the ability to form coherent sentences? When somebody – somebody whose life she was going to make a living hell – left Derek Morgan stretched out and naked in front of her, apparently… She cleared her throat loudly, banishing those thoughts, at least for the moment, and trying not to stammer. “I mean, should I…?” Her face was glowing brighter than the last of the sunlight outside, she was sure of it.
Derek looked up at her, eyes wide but still reassuringly him. “Breathe, baby girl.” He stretched toward her and covered her hand with his own then let out a low, deep groan. An expression she couldn’t quantify rippled across his face, and he let the air out of his lungs in a rush. “How about you start by finding the off switch on this damn thing?”
“Oh my god…” Penelope scrambled down the bed, face burning like the sun itself. She fumbled for the switch, biting her lower lip in concentration and not letting her breath out until she had the crazy thing off, off, off! She still managed to jostle it pretty good several times, and Derek clutched the bed, sending a muffled shout into the mattress when she had to tilt the unit up to get at the switch on its underside.
She’d opened her mouth to ask him what to do next when she took in how lax he’d gone, muscles released, his body collapsed into the bedding, face still pressed deep into the mattress, fine tremors running though his frame. Oh… Oh, right. Executive decision time here, Penelope.
Wincing, she pulled the shaft from Derek’s body. He whimpered and turned his face to the side, but he didn’t open his eyes. She pushed the damn thing to the floor, and they both jumped at the heavy thud it made when it hit the carpet. Unthinking, Penelope reached out to reassure him, her hand landing on the small of his back and rubbing small circles into his sweat-slicked skin. It looked small and pale there against him, but Derek didn’t seem to mind; after a moment, his shaking even stopped.
Penelope sucked in a breath and started in on the rest of the buckles. Once she had him completely free, she spread the sheet out over him. After a long moment’s consideration, she reached back under and eased him gently off the mound of pillows, tossing them to the floor as well.
He grabbed her arm as she pulled back, and she was caught in his eyes, open and needy and so easy to fall into that Penelope had to close her own. She didn’t pull away though. If she had, she might have missed his quiet, almost-whispered, “Stay,” but she hadn’t, so she didn’t. So she couldn’t do anything else but open her eyes again to meet his and say, “Okay,” and let him pull her down beside him.
He wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his face into the back of her neck and drew her in tight against him. Just when she was sure he was asleep, Derek whispered “Thank you, baby girl,” into her neck.
Penelope’s breath escaped her in a half-laugh, half-sigh and she said simply, “Go to sleep, Morgan,” and he did. It took a little while longer, but so did she.
~fin~
A/N: Thanks toailise for the beta, but not for the encouragement. She has her own sadistic motivations for that. We're gonna say this puppy was inspired by onceuponapillow's prompt in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic (Criminal Minds, Morgan/Garcia, She was the only one he trusted to see him like this), but not written for it, 'k? Because it morphed on me (as these things do) and now it fits my kink bingo card too well. Oh, who am I kidding? Those of you playing along at home might notice that it's not exactly in line with anything else. I'm about as close to having an actual bingo as I'd be if someone were calling out random kinks over a squelchy microphone in a (likely long-excommunicated) church basement...
And now I need brain bleach.
~ Fic Index ~
Author:
rivestra Rating: NC17
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: Morgan/Other, Morgan/Garcia
Spoilers: Not even a tiny one
Warnings: Um… highly negligent bondage practices?
Disclaimer: Not mine, not in the least. I’m just having a little fun.
Length: 1,850
Summary: Morgan gets himself into a tricky situation...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**********************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NEED YOU.
JUST YOU.
FIND ME QUICK, BABY GIRL.
Penelope stared at the text for maybe 30 seconds before she started the GPS search on Derek’s phone. Two minutes later, she was out the door.
Paused in the plush hallway, she wondered belatedly if she should have called the rest of the team. She shook herself; it was too late. Derek’s phone was in this building, and the hotel’s records indicated he was behind this door: number 116, rented in his own name.
No way was she going to stand there in the hall and wait for backup; Derek never would have asked her to come alone if it was dangerous. She knocked quickly before doubt could get a better grip on her.
Nothing.
She knocked again, this time closing her eyes and pressing her ear into the door, listening for any sounds coming from within.
Dead silence.
Penelope shuddered and vowed to choose her words more carefully, even only in her own head. She pounded on the door, face still pressed tightly against it. Derek was okay; he had to be. He wasn’t even working tonight, and something happening to him when he wasn’t was just too...
She nearly leapt out of her skin when the maid tapped her shoulder. She did jump enough to knock the tiny Hispanic woman back several feet and nearly down. Penelope reached out to help steady the woman, and she babbled as she did, “…left my key inside and my husband’s asleep. He could sleep through a tornado; I’m never going to wake him up pounding on the door like this… not with how soundproof your rooms are. I don’t suppose you could…” she gestured at the keys hanging from the woman’s uniform, trying to keep the desperation she was feeling off her face.
“Si, Senora. Just let me confirm.” The woman reached into her pocket and produced a walkie-talkie. “What is your name?”
“Penelope,” she blurted before she had a chance to think. Hastily, she added, “Morgan. Penelope Morgan.” She noticed that her hands were shaking when she pointed at the door again, so she crossed them over her chest and willed them to stay put.
Penelope listened as well as she could while the woman spoke into the walkie-talkie, but her limited Spanish (and why hadn’t she learned Spanish? Really, it would be more useful than either Japanese or Korean, at least here in DC) only allowed her to recognize a few words: ‘door’, ‘crazy lady’ and ‘Mrs. Morgan’. After what seemed like forever, the maid pocketed her radio and reached for her keys.
Penelope smiled. She hoped it was more reassuring and thankful than loca. “Thank you – Gracias!”
The maid fit her key into the lock and pushed the door slightly inward. As soon as the room’s seal was broken, Penelope could hear a steady, rhythmic thumping and a low, growling whir coming from inside and was suddenly and completely certain she didn’t want the maid entering the room.
She grabbed the woman’s hand to stop the door from opening further and brought a finger to her lips in what she hoped was a universal shushing gesture. “Gracias.” Penelope tugged the woman gently away from the door. “Muchas gracias.” She turned the maid around toward the hall and gave the woman a tiny shove, muttering, “Via con Dios,” at the woman’s back as she moved off toward the stairwell.
Quickly, Penelope spun around and ducked into the room, closing the door behind her with a near-silent snick. The room was dim but not dark – a plush mini-suite illuminated only by the scarlet-tinged sunset streaming in through the brown velvet drapes. Her eyes swept right past him the first time as she glanced to her right, over the bed and on toward the window, taking in the rust-colored carpet, the heavy oak armoire, the tan and red striped furniture with its tasseled, golden pillows…
Penelope wrenched her eyes back toward the bed, knowing she’d make one hell of a dead field agent. The door convulsed behind her and it took a second for her to realize it was her knees trying to give out, not the maid returning with security. Not that it would have mattered: either way, there was no way she was tearing her eyes off the bed now that they’d finally settled there.
Derek was spread out in front of her, facing into those fading rays of sunlight, completely oblivious to her. Sweat poured off every inch of him she could see – which was pretty much every inch – and he was straining, muscles tense and beautiful against the restraints at his ankles, thighs, arms and wrists.
She drew in a shaky breath, hoping it would make her brains cells engage, even just a little bit.
Derek was propped up on pillows under his stomach, angled ass-up and head down, chest heaving, neck stretched and vulnerable, reaching into the sun. The light limned him, licking along his taught abdomen and thighs, carving him from deep shadows and fire. He was more perfect than any Greek statue and absolutely stunning in the fading light.
The whir-thump continued unabated, finally drawing her attention again. Penelope moved a bit further into the room, looking for the source, and she stopped short again when she found it, her ragged breathing stopping altogether. The device sat on the far side of the bed, motor tucked between Derek’s legs. A long drive shaft extended from the motor, pumping relentlessly, clicking mechanically on each out-stroke, driving deep into Derek on the in-stroke.
Derek pushed desperately into the pillow beneath him in a ragged counterpoint to the machine ramming into him. At first, Penelope couldn’t tell if he was searching for friction or trying to get away from… no, he was pushing back into the pounding. That much she could see, even in the dim light. Her breath came out in a harsh rush. Now that she’d identified the other sounds, Penelope could hear his muffled moaning each time it shoved deep. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see the silicone covered rod pulling almost all the way out of him before sinking in deep once again, Derek gaping red and angry and slick in the wake of its merciless push.
Penelope shook herself and came further around the bed. She’d taken two steps before she suddenly hit the floor, tripping on Derek’s shoes tucked in neatly beside the bed. She used the bedpost to pull herself up, and as she came level with the top of the mattress, she also came face to face with Derek. There was a large red ball strapped between his lips, and her own mouth was suddenly, desperately dry. She tried to swallow, failed and tried again, this time wondering just how long she’d been wandering around the room with her jaw dropped, worse than useless.
She practically lunged for the strap on the gag, casting the thing violently aside as soon as it was free, absolutely needing to hear his voice that very second.
He coughed instead, convulsing a bit into the pillows under his hips. Penelope studied the table next to the bed, studied his neatly folded shirt and trousers, the balled up socks she’d knocked nearly under the bed when she tripped, anything but him until he cleared his throat loudly and said, “Sweetness, I could really use some help here. This is not the time to get shy on me…”
Startled and ashamed, Penelope leapt to action, repeating, “Sorry! Sorry!” over and over while she attacked the buckles on the leather holding his nearest wrist in place. She took the cell phone gently from his hand as she removed the restraint. Tentatively, she asked, “Did someone… should I call…” Derek shook his head and gave her a weary but genuine smile. Penelope shut up and moved on to free his other hand.
Once she had both his arms released, she stopped short, staring down at the rest of him. “Do you… what…” When, exactly, had she lost the ability to form coherent sentences? When somebody – somebody whose life she was going to make a living hell – left Derek Morgan stretched out and naked in front of her, apparently… She cleared her throat loudly, banishing those thoughts, at least for the moment, and trying not to stammer. “I mean, should I…?” Her face was glowing brighter than the last of the sunlight outside, she was sure of it.
Derek looked up at her, eyes wide but still reassuringly him. “Breathe, baby girl.” He stretched toward her and covered her hand with his own then let out a low, deep groan. An expression she couldn’t quantify rippled across his face, and he let the air out of his lungs in a rush. “How about you start by finding the off switch on this damn thing?”
“Oh my god…” Penelope scrambled down the bed, face burning like the sun itself. She fumbled for the switch, biting her lower lip in concentration and not letting her breath out until she had the crazy thing off, off, off! She still managed to jostle it pretty good several times, and Derek clutched the bed, sending a muffled shout into the mattress when she had to tilt the unit up to get at the switch on its underside.
She’d opened her mouth to ask him what to do next when she took in how lax he’d gone, muscles released, his body collapsed into the bedding, face still pressed deep into the mattress, fine tremors running though his frame. Oh… Oh, right. Executive decision time here, Penelope.
Wincing, she pulled the shaft from Derek’s body. He whimpered and turned his face to the side, but he didn’t open his eyes. She pushed the damn thing to the floor, and they both jumped at the heavy thud it made when it hit the carpet. Unthinking, Penelope reached out to reassure him, her hand landing on the small of his back and rubbing small circles into his sweat-slicked skin. It looked small and pale there against him, but Derek didn’t seem to mind; after a moment, his shaking even stopped.
Penelope sucked in a breath and started in on the rest of the buckles. Once she had him completely free, she spread the sheet out over him. After a long moment’s consideration, she reached back under and eased him gently off the mound of pillows, tossing them to the floor as well.
He grabbed her arm as she pulled back, and she was caught in his eyes, open and needy and so easy to fall into that Penelope had to close her own. She didn’t pull away though. If she had, she might have missed his quiet, almost-whispered, “Stay,” but she hadn’t, so she didn’t. So she couldn’t do anything else but open her eyes again to meet his and say, “Okay,” and let him pull her down beside him.
He wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his face into the back of her neck and drew her in tight against him. Just when she was sure he was asleep, Derek whispered “Thank you, baby girl,” into her neck.
Penelope’s breath escaped her in a half-laugh, half-sigh and she said simply, “Go to sleep, Morgan,” and he did. It took a little while longer, but so did she.
~fin~
A/N: Thanks to
ailise for the beta, but not for the encouragement. She has her own sadistic motivations for that. We're gonna say this puppy was inspired by onceuponapillow's prompt in comment_fic (Criminal Minds, Morgan/Garcia, She was the only one he trusted to see him like this), but not written for it, 'k? Because it morphed on me (as these things do) and now it fits my kink bingo card too well. Oh, who am I kidding? Those of you playing along at home might notice that it's not exactly in line with anything else. I'm about as close to having an actual bingo as I'd be if someone were calling out random kinks over a squelchy microphone in a (likely long-excommunicated) church basement... And now I need brain bleach.
~ Fic Index ~
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Thanks for commenting, I'm glad to hear you enjoyed it.
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GEEZUZ. THAT WAS AMAZING.
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A beautiful picture... Derek Morgan stretched out and naked in front of her...
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But maybe that's just me.
I certainly hope you continue it.
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And she can't really (doesn't want to) shake that image either. (Neither can I, honestly.)
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I don't really ship those two, but I can be... persuaded. Maybe you should write it? I'd really like to meet that Reid! (The one in my head's far too responsible to do something like this, even if I did ship them!)
Thanks for reading!
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And trust me, it's a thought she's been having... over and over. If I manage to find time for a sequel (& I'm hopeful, because she is loud and pushy and I'd like her to shut up already and the only way that seem likely is if I write), she'll be dealing with whoever was responsible for leaving him like that.
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