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Morgan knew that Burford couldn't see him through the one-way glass, but it felt like he was staring right into him as he spoke. No space or time separating them at all anymore. Just a little boy and a sick man.
He fought to keep his breath steady. Every slow inhale and exhale was hard-won and worth it. The entire team was standing around him, pretending not to stare. Everyone except Gideon, who was in the interrogation room.
"Those boys needed my guidance. They were troubled. Without me, they would've ended up dead in the gutter."
"If I'm not mistaken one of them did end up dead in the gutter with your… guidance ," Gideon murmured.
Buford bristled, hackles up and Morgan wanted to cut out the part of him that reacted instinctively. The part that had been trained as a child to soothe him when Carl was upset. To do whatever it took to win his favor again. He stamped it out viciously and braced himself for Carl's next words.
"I am a hero in this community." Buford leaned forward, spitting in Gideon's direction. "I don't care what Derek told you. He's lying."
Standing at the glass beside him, Hotch shifted. It was subtle, but Morgan's name in Buford's mouth had the man uncomfortable. Morgan could relate.
Everything about this situation was uncomfortable. Having his past flayed open for them all to see. His greatest weakness, his ugliest scar.
"Agent Morgan didn't tell us anything," Gideon said coolly.
"I bet he didn't tell you that he liked it either." Buford smiled. "He was so pretty back then. He was always a little slut but I knew how to make him beg for me the most. I could tell that he was just asking for it with his dirty little looks. He needed a powerful man to hold him down and give it to him good. I just-"
The crash of the metal trashcan jolted Morgan out of his focus. It startled all of them until Buford's words were just background noise.
Hotch had knocked the trash can against the wall when he dropped to his knees in front of it. All Morgan could see was the curve of his back as he heaved into it. As the smell of bile filled the air, Morgan's own gut sank like lead.
"Hotch, are you okay?" Reid tried to touch his arm but Hotch shrugged him off.
Hotch shoved shakily to his feet, not meeting any eyes as he stormed out of the room.
"Should I..?" JJ asked, taking a step toward the door Hotch had disappeared through. Prentiss looked between the door and the interview in progress and gnawed on her lip.
"I'll go," Morgan muttered. "I've seen this movie before."
He stalked Hotch through the precinct as he made a beeline for the men's bathroom. He'd been dreading this from the moment the team touched down in Chicago, but now that it was finally here…
He could see it so clearly. That night just a few weeks ago that had changed everything. The night that Buford's words had soiled, soured, and twisted into something ugly.
Morgan's head fell back against the wall. There was no room to move. No way to escape but that was almost the last thing on his mind. Hotch had caught him off guard, but now that they were here, Morgan was more than on board with what was happening.
"I know you want this." Hotch's rough voice grated against Morgan's ear, scraping a shiver up his spine. Hotch's teeth dragged against the shell of his ear as he leaned in closer, pressing their bodies together from chest to thighs. "I see the way you look at me."
Hotch's hands were nagging at the flies of his jeans, torturing him with clumsy strokes and brushes against his growing erection. When he got his pants down, he growled his triumph and dragged his teeth across Morgan's neck. It was a parody of a vicious bite, but it cut through Morgan. A jolt of pleasure forced a groan from his chest.
"You like that?" Hotch asked. "I always knew you were a slut, but I never thought I could make you beg. Think I can make you beg for me?"
Hotch's hand wrapped around his dick and Morgan didn't bother with the questions. He gripped Hotch's hips with both hands and dragged him in closer so they were flush. They ground against each other, an easy, punishing rhythm that had them both breathing heavily against each other's mouths.
Morgan gasped when Hotch stepped away and a rush of cool air filled the space he'd just been. Hotch didn't leave him wanting for long. He gripped Morgan's arm and shoved him, jostling him around until he was facing the wall. Then his heat was back, in a firm line against Morgans's back.
He gasped, his gut clenching hard as Hotch's hands curled around his hip bones and dragged his ass back until he was pressed against Hotch's groin. Morgan fell forward against the wall, cheek brushing the cool paint as he moaned.
Hotch couldn't fuck him like this. They didn't have the supplies or the privacy for it. But just the implication. Hotch putting Morgan where he wanted him and threatening to fuck him silly made Morgan's knees tremble.
Hotch ground his hips in a hard, slow circle, dragging his clothed dick against Morgan's ass and parting his cheeks in the same motion. The drag of fabric against his asshole made Morgan gasp. He flung his hands back, needing to touch Hotch in some way. One hand wrapped around Hotch's forearm, the other on Hotch's side. He felt every move from both of them as Hotch ground against him, reaching around him to stroke Morgan's dick in time with his thrusts.
When Hotch came, his grip on Morgan stuttered then tightened until all of his focus was on dragging an orgasm out of him. His free hand slid up Morgan's chest as he stroked him. He pulled him upright, so half of his weight was slumped back on his chest and he could get his teeth on Morgan's neck again.
With the sounds of his heavy breaths in Morgan's ear, his unrelenting pace on his dick, and the soft rutting against his ass, Morgan was barreling toward a blinding orgasm.
Hotch's voice did him in. "Come on, baby. Give it to me. Come for me."
Morgan cried out, trembling as his body surrendered.
"You're so pretty like that." Hotch's breath was hot against his neck. It forced another wave of pleasure to crash through him and another spurt of cum into Hotch's hand.
Morgan had to muster up his courage to enter the restroom after Hotch. On impulse, he twisted the lock closed behind him. This conversation was going to be bad enough without someone interrupting.
Hotch was slumped over one of the sinks, still pale and shaky after vomiting. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror in front of him, a haunted look in his eye. "Morgan did I-"
"No," Morgan said. He wouldn't even let Hotch finish that thought. Didn't want the weight of it on Hotch's shoulders.
"Hotch, no." Morgan insisted.
Hotch shook his head and pushed himself upright. He turned to face Morgan but couldn't come any closer. It made Morgan want to grind his teeth. "The things he was saying…"
"It's different," Morgan said flatly, no room for argument.
"How?" Hotch's shout echoed around the hollow room.
Morgan sucked in a deep breath and reminded himself not to strangle his boss. It was fear. That's all. He was afraid of himself and what he'd done because he didn't want to have hurt Morgan. Because he was a good man.
Morgan crossed the space between them and pulled Hotch against his chest. There was a long moment where Hotch stood stiff in his grasp, and Morgan was terrified that Hotch would never be able to touch him again. But he slumped into Morgan's hold, clammy hands coming up to rest against Morgan's back. He could feel his cold sweat through his tee-shirt and had the fleeting desire to kill Buford for making Hotch so sick with worry.
"I think we're doing this backwards," Hotch muttered into his shoulder. "I'm supposed to be the one comforting you."
Morgan pressed his lips against Hotch's temple and sighed. "It happened a long time ago. I made my peace with it."
Hotch's voice cracked when he whispered, "Why didn't you tell me?"
Morgan's eyes fell shut at the pain in Hotch's words. He would've taken it to his grave to spare them this. "You wouldn't have touched me if you knew. And I wanted you to touch me."
Hotch sucked in a sharp breath before he pulled back to meet Morgan's gaze. He didn't bother denying it, and, for that, Morgan was grateful. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Morgan carded his fingers through Hotch's hair and dragged him in for a kiss.
It was brief and chaste, but it eased the last remnant of tension out of Hotch.