Spencer Reid loved you. You had been with him through all the three months he had went to jail, framed by Cat Adams, and fought alongside your team and his, the BAU, to prove his innocence. You guys did it, and now you couldn't keep your hands off of him — neither could Reid keep his hands off of you. It was like the time he had spent in prison had made him even more needy, more touch-starved, and your hands, your body, your smell — it was medicine for Reid, healing his broken parts, slowly, one by one.

That's why Spencer didn't mind — if anything, the man loved it — having you on his apartment all the time. Well, he'd even ask you to come home with him after work because he couldn't stand the thought of not having you there with him, not necessarily to do anything dirty. No, he just wanted to have you there with him, to smell you, to watch you read, to hold you to sleep. But, sure, of course it would happen too — sex. Of course it would, the two of you were dating for a while now, but after Spencer came out of prison, he was more careful with you, like he could break you. You didn't mind — he always managed to make you happy, if you get what I mean.

Tonight you were on his lap, straddling him, as the two of you sat on his couch. Things got heated, which was fine, and as you kissed him — God, he could let you kiss him forever — you made a move. It was a very gentle move, but you wrapped both of your hands around his neck and barely squeezed, but you kind of did. You didn't know— It triggered Spencer.

"Wait. Stop." Spencer breathed, and you immediately did. He placed you back on the couch, being careful, and started to breath in and out, shallow and short.

"Hey." You whispered, one of your hands coming to rest on his arm. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Spencer wasn't okay. He knew you didn't mean to scare or trigger him and that you were just being your nice, sensual self, but his mind ran back to when other inmates did actually choke him. It wasn't a loving, sweet, gentle wrap of hands around his neck as you had done before — oh, no. He had passed out at least twice back then, but you didn't know. And Reid wasn't blaming you — he would never. But he was definitely having a small anxiety attack.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, your hand never leaving his arm, drawing soothing circles on his shirt. "Did I do someting that scared you?"

"N—no." Spencer breathed. "I mean, yeah, but it wasn't your fault. Don't— Don't feel bad."

"Okay." You whispered, still caressing his arm. "But tell me. So I don't do it again."

"The choking." Spencer said, feeling tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He swallowed them, not wanting to cry in front of you because of that — he felt silly. "I— I know it wasn't... It was just... The memories, they just came flooding, and I got— I got scared, I think."

God, you wanted to put Spencer inside your ribcage and protect him from the whole world.