fic post: (Hotch/Prentiss)
Title: of all the things we share
Characters: Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner
Rating: FRM
Summary: This was not how he imagined a day of suit shopping with Prentiss ending.
This was not just the ‘riding together to the same store and then splitting up’ kind of shopping.
This was two intense hours of picking out pants, jackets, and shirts for each other (plus ties for him). Two hours culminating in a marathon dressing room fashion show that began light hearted and with each change of clothing became more fraught with tension. The show eventually came to an end with Prentiss pinning him against the flimsy door of the stall, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Just wait until we get back to your apartment and we can fully appreciate these.” Her fingers ghosting over the buttons of his dress shirt.
Ten minutes later they’re both back in their own clothes in the car on the way to his apartment.
- -
“Jesus, Prentiss.” Hotch bites out. Clenching his teeth, fighting not to close his eyes and miss out on any of the glorious sight before him.
Emily Prentiss, straddling his hips fully clothed - holster, Glock and all. Her hands find their way under his suit jacket, untuck his shirt, and rake what’s left of her nails down his sides as she rolls her hips against his clothed erection.
Seeking more friction, his hands grab her hips and pull her against him. At her breathy moan, Hotch quips, “Ready to concede defeat and admit you want me naked right now?”
“Never.” Her voice low and smooth at first, wavering slightly when he shifts against her sex.
“In fact…” She trails off and a small smirk lifts the corners of her mouth, and she unbuttons her suit jacket, shrugs it off her shoulders and tosses it onto the floor. Her hands grasp the hem of her shirt and she lifts it over her head. “I’ve got this wrapped up.”
Now she’s just wearing those pants - the black ones that fall a couple inches short of being considered high waisted - plus her gun on her hip - a functional, black bra is the only thing obstructing his gaze from her full breasts she’s rolling her hips, rubbing his cock with every pass and it’s more than he can take. The visual alone is enough to end him - dark hair sliding over her shoulders to reveal the pale flesh of her neck as she tips her head back and lets out a small moan. And he knows he’s almost gone as he reaches out, snakes one hand behind her back - resting on smooth skin, the other settling on her gun to pull her forward to meet his lips.
He’s trying to slow his breathing as she shifts her attention from his mouth to his jaw line, then to his neck.
“Emily, please.” Is all he can manage to get out.
He feels her smile against his neck, and then she meets his eyes again. “Thank god.” It’s half exasperation and half moan.
There’s a tinge of lightness in her voice that he hasn’t heard in some time, but it’s the last thing he notes before her hands reach down to unbuckle his belt.