Work Text:
Of Innocence and Empathy: Innocence Lost in Thought
by Frogg
Warmth.
The throbbing of a heartbeat, skin cool and smooth beneath his hand, rising and falling with another's slow breath of sleep.
Muffled laughter, people walking down the hall, birds chirping outside. The distant hum of traffic on the freeway.
The dim halflight of the sun peeking around the heavy curtains, casting the bland hotel room into a shadowy grey-washed cocoon.
Scent of detergent. Of soap and sweat and musk and cologne.
Morgan.
Body still weighted with exhaustion, Reid carefully propped himself on one elbow, trying not to disturb his bedmate. The mattress shifted beneath him as he turned to his side, making his breath catch.
Nothing. Morgan didn't stir.
Reid sighed in relief.
What would it be like? he wondered, raising his hand from its resting place on Morgan's back, delicately tracing lines of muscle, lines of ink.
What would it be like to have the right to this, instead of stealing moments between sleep and wakefulness? To have Morgan in his bed, in his life out of love and not need?
To be able to touch without fear of being caught? To - dare he even think such a thing - taste?
Was he any better than Carl?
Pain and grief and anger spiked through him, knotting his stomach, freezing his hand over Morgan's shoulderblade.
Carl only cared for himself.
It's different between us, Reid told himself, shoving the guilt and loathing away.
What would it be like, if Morgan touched him?
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