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Morgan is gorgeous. Everyone knows that. It's a pesky side effect of hitting the gym seventy-four times a week and eating kryptonite for breakfast and whatever other magic Morgan works to make the most of his genetic blessings. Every part of him, as a result, is tight-muscled and supple-skinned and edible in the kind of way that makes Reid feel hungry for anything within reach.
Normally, thanks to so many years of practice, he's pretty good about keeping himself in check. But when it's just the two of them and a convenient horizontal surface and Derek looks at him a certain way, it's enough to have Reid moaning and mouthing him into any kind of kiss he can, hands clasping greedily on shirt cloth to ruck it up and out of the way in order to palm up the strong planes of his back. Something about feeling those hard thighs pressing his own apart, holding him in place, never fails to result in making him lightheaded and helpless and aching for all of it. Feeling the weight of Morgan on him, the smell of aftershave or cologne or even just sweat—sex, exercise, both causing the release of endorphins, both areas in which Morgan excels—yeah, it's pretty intoxicating.
In conclusion, Morgan is gorgeous all over and his ass is no exception. Reid hasn't ever had much going on in that area, so the appreciation is only natural. Right.
He doesn't actually mean to bring his hand down on one cheek when he's laughing and trying to swat Derek out of the way so he can stagger out of bed and hunt down some coffee, but hearing him groan low and throatily into the pillows, feeling him tense under him...that makes him start with surprise. Makes him kind of want to do it again.
“Reid,” starts Morgan, and suddenly coffee doesn't seem important anymore.
“Is this something we should talk about?” Doing his best to sound amused, but faintly aware he only sounds intrigued and turned on and hopefully this won’t make Morgan distrust him or anything, for liking this—liking something he didn’t know, maybe neither of them knew, he would.
“You know that’s not what this is.”
It would be doing them both a disservice if Reid thought of Morgan as strictly a sexual abuse survivor, but he still is, and that must be taken into account. Always. He tries to play it cool, something that seems to go awry more often around Morgan than anyone else “Seriously, man, spanking?”
“Spencer.”
Exasperation: now, that, he can work with. “Because…cool.”
“Seriously.” Morgan pushes up onto one elbow, looking like he should be striking that same pose on a pedestal in an art museum, and fixes him with a look. “Drop it.”
“Right, fair enough.” In the spirit of give and take and power exchange, he keeps any relevant statistics to himself and studies the way Morgan's arm flexes as he trails fingers up one shoulder. Venturing, “I'll let you try something new on me if you want.”
Then Morgan is laughing, catching him around the waist and pulling him back down, strong hands and short nails skimming up his sides until he's sputtering. “Like gagging?”
“See, something like that would be indicative of—”
One of Morgan's eyebrows climbs dangerously high, and then he's pressed too close to Reid for him to do anything but squirm and press right back up against him. “Oh, believe me, sweetheart, whatever it is, it's been on my list since day one.”
“I had no idea.”
“I'm mysterious like that. You, on the other hand, pretty much broadcast the fact that you're an ass man.”
“I do not.” Ohgod, or does he? Morgan would know. “I mean, do you want me not to...am I supposed to ignore,” pointing, half-serious, “...if there's an etiquette guide or something, you need to tell me.”
“Do you mind if we maybe pick this up later?” Kissing him before he can answer, and it's one of the things he likes most about being with Derek, how he can take all Reid's reservations and consume them. It makes everything seem so simple, and neither of them have had a lot of simple things in their lives.
Reid stretches both arms over his head and lets that mouth trail gradually lower. “Nope, not at all.”