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From the French Piquer	By : BlueHarlequin Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 2942 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Nothing of Criminal Minds belongs to me; this is not for profit. No copyright infringement intended.

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From the French Piquer
Author: BlueHarlequin
Disclaimer: Nothing of Criminal Minds belongs to me; this is not for profit. No copyright infringement intended.
Warnings: Torture and sexual assault. Spoilers for episode 5.1 “Nameless, Faceless”
A/N: unbeta'd. Please be kind. Updates are always posted in my profile. Feel free to PM me with comments or leave a review, I love hearing from ya'll!
Foyet x Hotch
Summary: Foyet can’t kill Hotch just yet so he bestows a different kind of death upon him.

“... if somebody is impotent that they will use a knife instead. Maybe this will change the way you profile.”
“Oh you have no idea how much I’d love to fuck you,” the monster above him said in a gleeful voice, “but sadly I don’t think you’d stay conscious long enough for me to enjoy it, and we wouldn’t want that now would we?” He slid the knife in a little deeper and Hotch grimaced in pain. “So instead I’ll just have a little fun.”
Hotch’s body was flooded with terror as Foyet unbuttoned his slacks and cupped his genitals. The killer moved over him and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, I'm going to make it good for you too.” The profiler gasped as Foyet pressed down on him briefly; he could feel the man’s erection hot and heavy against his groin. He tried to struggle but Foyet just whispered in his ear, “Un-uh, you’re going to cause me to cut into you the wrong way if you do that. I don’t want you to bleed out before this is over.” As if to emphasize his point, he drew the knife out slowly at an angle. The pain was excruciating. Hotch gritted his teeth, determined not to cry out, refusing to give Foyet the satisfaction of hearing his pain.
But the humiliation the man had in store for him was just starting. Hotch felt his boxers and pants being dragged down to his knees. He observed with some alarm that Foyet had unbuttoned his own pants. He felt wet hands caressing his body and he inwardly cringed as he realised his life’s fluids were being painted all over his chest. Blood-slicked fingers wormed their way down and brushed against his entrance, “Wait, I thought he said he wasn’t going to fuck me.” Grinning madly, Foyet shoved two fingers into Aaron’s tight hole. Hotch jerked forcefully as his insides were violated.
“Remember I told you how much you have to study the human body to learn where to stab yourself? Well that also comes with perks,” he paused as his fingers searched the hot channel, “unlike women, men can’t help their sexual response when a certain area is stimulated.” Hotch’s eyes widened in horror as the madman’s intentions became all too clear. He grunted in revulsion as the fingers found his prostate and pressed. “No, no, no!” he thought as his cock began to stir. Foyet stared raptly at his face as he pressed his fingers sadistically against Aaron's prostate every time he slid the blade into his flesh.
Hotch closed his eyes and tried to separate himself from the experience, but the serial killer above him would have none of it. Foyet placed the knife on his chest and instead stabbed two fingers into one of his wounds. Hotch wheezed painfully, drawing a chuckle out the man straddling him. “Come on now Aaron, pay attention. I haven’t gotten you off yet so we’re not done. I want you to remember me every time you feel any pleasure.” Foyet twisted his fingers inside Aaron’s wounds at the same time he jabbed fiercely at his sweet spot. Stroking him mercilessly inside, he picked the knife up and violently pierced his flesh one last time. Hotch finally screamed out as the stimulation and pain proved to be too much, his release spilling messily on his stomach.
Gasping for breath he barely managed to look up; Foyet’s eyes were almost black with hunger. Blood was pouring out of him freely and he was beginning to feel numb in his extremities. Realising his prey wasn’t going to be very much fun for longer, Foyet moved until he was sitting on his chest. One of the last things Hotch remembered before he passed out was the laboured breathing of the man above him as he jerked off and the hot slimy feeling of his come as it splattered onto his face and neck.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?"
"I don’t know. After he stabbed me the first time it all goes blank."

Fin
Je parle français tres mal.
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From the French Piquer