Bicker 6
Title: Bicker pt 6
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17 (Oh yeah)
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 2163
Prompt: 040. Biting
Apologies: And more of the Princeton Eating Club AU! If you don't know what Eating Clubs are, think Hellfire Club for college students. Bicker is the system for picking new members to let into the club.
And the central plot finally makes a reappearance! Along with vast amounts of smut!
*Someone* was begging for this. You know who you are.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Emma didn’t wear the handcuffs that night. Walking back up through town and then through campus she had stayed close to Emily, letting their shoulders brush, and almost leaning on her. And it almost felt like a statement. Emma was probably used to getting looks as boys walked past, Emily wasn’t, unless they were accompanied by whispers (“did you see her?” “That’s the girl who… on Newman’s day…”), but when a pack of Charter boys gamboled past, they glanced once, and Emily caught a distinct look of disappointment on at least one of their faces.
“You’re lucky I’m not the kind of girl who only allows a kiss goodnight,” Emma murmured into her neck as Emily fumbled with her ID to get them into the building.
“Lucky?” Emily gave her an amused look. Emma was half settled into her hip, hot in the cool night air. “Because you’ve slept with more people than you can count?”
“No,” Emma scowled. “And I can count,” she winced as she considered this. “At least… I can get a general estimate, if I add a couple for each night I was blackout drunk. And I haven’t blacked out since freshman year.” She tugged on Emily’s hair and nipped at her ear. “It’s because,” she drawled, as if Emily really didn’t know. “I really want to fuck you tonight.”
Emma leaned in. Emily kissed her lazily, before shoving open the door and tugging her up the stairs. She opened the door to her room and let Emma pass, pushing her in with a sharp shove. Emma stumbled back and dropped onto the futon, kicking off her shoes. She leaned back, stripping her shirt off over her head and shaking out her hair. Emily didn’t bother turning on the light, just stepped out of her own boots and crossed the room at a pace.
Emma gave her a dark, dirty, challenging grin, and Emily caught her wrists, pushing her down onto the bed and crawling on top of her. “You were saying you were going to fuck me?”
Emma pulled in a quick breath, and Emily bent down pressing her mouth to her fluttering pulse. Emma let out a soft sound, not quite a whimper or a moan, and tipped her head back, giving her more access. “You can bite me if you want,” she whispered. “I want you to bite me.”
Emily pushed up to meet her gaze. She knew what that was like, how it could feel. But you never knew what it meant for anyone besides yourself. Pinned under her, Emma’s dark seductive gaze was gone, and she looked wide-eyed and young, lips swollen and parted. Emily dipped her head to catch her lower lip between her teeth and tug gently. She let it go, soothing it with a kiss half off her mouth, and lifted up.
“You really want that?”
Emma nodded.
“Why?” Emma’s shoulders stiffened at the question. Emily closed her knees around Emma’s hips so she couldn’t wriggle away, keeping her wrists pressed deeply into the bed. “Do you want me to hurt you? Or do you want me to mark you?”
Emma swallowed, and Emily watched the motion of the throat, planning her attack. “Both.”
“Good.”
Emily ducked back down, sliding her tongue into the tight crevasse of her cleavage and then dragging it up her chest, licking over the curve of her collarbone and pressing a wet kiss to her neck. She sucked on the soft skin, hard, making it pull and twinge. Emma groaned under her, lifting her hips, trying to rub them against her. Emily kept her tightly clasped between her knees, and then scraped her eyeteeth over the curve of her shoulder. Emma gasped and Emily made small nips, just hard enough for her to feel it up along the edge of her throat.
Emma jerked her hips and struggled against the grip on her wrists. “Enough with the damn foreplay already,” she hissed.
Emily pulled away and gave her a curious look. “You’re done?”
“You fucking sadist!”
Emily laughed and nipped at her chin before moving down farther and clasping the central strap of her bra in her teeth and tugging at it until her breasts were free. This time she bit lightly on the skin on the curve of her breast. Emma tipped back her head, gasping. Emily lapped at her nipple, soothingly. It didn’t sooth. Emma whimpered, tears trickling out the corners of her eyes. She bit again, leaving red tracks on the pale skin.
“You like?” Emily whispered. Emma moaned.
She moved up again, but not hovering, sliding her body against her, letting the roughness of her shirt catch on Emma’s breasts, and lying on top of her, mouth by her ear. “It’s the little bites that leave marks, that sting. They’re the ones that make you feel something.” She sucked on Emma’s earlobe, feeling the desperate grind of her hips. But her wrists were limp in her grasp, unresisting. Emily buried her face in her neck, and bit down, hard and heavy, for the bruising. Emma spasmed underneath her, crying out. Emily gasped at the way she moved, and clenched down tighter around her wrists and legs.
She let Emma loose, sitting up, and looking down at her. Emma met her gaze, still panting. “If you tell anyone about that…” she hissed, gasping in between words.
Emily just gave her a smile. “Dou you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” She scrunched her skirt up around her hips. “When you’re so turned on you can’t even speak.” She moved, parting Emma’s legs and settling between them. Kneeling there she reached forward, undoing Emma’s bra and extracting it, then letting her hands curl around her breasts.
“Oh god.” Emma scrubbed at her eyes with a fist, lifting her hips wantonly, and pushing towards Emily’s knees.
“You have no idea how much I want my fingers inside of you.”
“Just,” Emma said weakly, “just do whatever you want to me. You don’t need to hold me down.”
Without preamble, Emily roughly pushed three fingers straight into her. She was so hot and wet and tight around her, so wet that the warm hollow between her thighs where Emily’s hand rested was sticky, suggesting that Emma had actually come just from being bitten. And Emily couldn’t help the sound that escaped her at the feel of it. She curled her fingers, just rocking her hand, and Emma made a keening gasp and tried to sit up or more forward or something unsuccessful. Emily dropped down over her, biting at the other side of her neck. Emma lifted her hips, fucking against her hand. Her hands both gripped Emily’s hair, twisting into it, and holding her tightly to her neck.
Emily’s hand was still moving, driving in and out, the heel of her hand pressing down on her clit. Emma was making tiny rough noises against her, her hands leaving her hair and rumpling up the back of her shirt until they were underneath, leaving little half moon indents of fingernails. Emily knew she was grinding helplessly against her thigh, but Emma was pushing it right into her crotch. She felt Emma moving more quickly and sounding more desperate under her, and increased her speed in kind. She bit down again, just to keep herself from letting out any more embarrassing sounds, and Emma arched, coming under her, and her nails raked hot red lines across her back.
Emily came in her jeans.
* * *
Emma woke up naked and unbound in Emily’s futon, the other girl’s hot bare skin against her side. She sat up, swinging her feet out of bed, then glanced over and caught sight of herself in the mirror and froze.
Emily woke up slowly and saw her still staring at her own reflection.
“Oh my god, I went to town,” she mumbled, sleepily.
“I don’t have anything that will cover this up.”
“It’s not my fault you’re pasty.”
Emma just glared at her.
“Or that you apparently have some weird vampire fetish.”
“Shut up!” Emma swept her hair back, getting a better view of the mess Emily had made of her neck and shoulder. “Do you have anything that could possibly make it more obvious that I’m your fucktoy?”
“Um…” Emily crawled off the futon, tripping over her jeans, where they lay in a haphazard pile on the floor, but catching herself before she fell. She made it over to the desk and opened the bottom drawer and rummaged around. She found what she was looking for and tossed it to Emma who caught it out of the air. “You could wear that?”
Emma gaped at the worn leather collar. “Yours?”
“Yeah.”
Emma laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, what the fuck. Why not?”
* * *
Ro just stared, her mouth hanging open, when she came over to study. Emma gave her a dirty look before heading out in the direction of the psychology library.
“I thought you said you were fucking her, not that you bought her from whatever kinky slave auction your club’s been holding.”
Emily just gave her a look. “Don’t ever mention that again, because seriously, if Seb catches wind of it, there will be one.”
Ro gave her a curious smile. “Does your ex know you’ve taken on her mantle of playing Dom to vulnerable underclassmen?”
Emily cringed. “It’s temporary. And singular.”
“Did you… actually break up with her? Or did she just let the reins loose while you were finishing school?”
This was not a question that Emily was entirely prepared to answer. She shrugged awkwardly. “She works for my parents. After the first mess… they like her. My dad calls her his protégée They’d like it if I were part of their world, even if it was just showing my face at parties. They wouldn’t have a problem if-“
“If she locked you up and beat you regularly?” Ro made a sound of frustration. “I guess that answers my question. And you’d let her. Because it’s less effort than to fight it. And does your current know this? Or is she just letting you mark up her body and boss her around for no good reason at all? Or did your mistress tell you that you needed to get a third?”
“She’s doing it to get into the club.” Emily snapped back. “If she proves that she can give up control over her sexuality, she’s allowed in. It doesn’t have anything to do with me!”
Ro stared at her. “That’s sick,” she said, flatly and with feeling. “And if you think that’s all that’s going on around here, your mistress taught you nothing about headspace. Suck on that, psych major. She’s wearing your collar, and your teethmarks, in public, alone.”
“Good!” Emily retorted. “Maybe then people will stop touching my property!”
Ro blinked at her. “Yeah, lets do some studying, because I so have no idea what’s going on with you.”
* * *
Jeannie dropped her plate when they came into the dining room that night. Over her collar Emma had a tight white short-sleeved button down, open just enough at the neck to suggest that the bruising went down quite a bit farther than was polite. The pleated skirt just finished the effect of a wet dream come true.
McCoy came over to their table and gave Emma a pat on the shoulder. “Congrats,” he said, in an amused rumble. “Don’t forget. Initiations are next Sunday night, after the game on Saturday.”
Emily clenched her fists into the tablecloth to keep herself from knocking his hand off of Emma’s shoulder.
“Thanks,” Emma replied, giving him a sly narrow-eyed smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Emily restrained herself from punching someone.
There was a movie on after dinner in the room upstairs, and Emily pulled Emma into her lap. It didn’t stop the looks, or the occasional, surreptitious possessive touches by others. The boys were so pleased with Emily for ‘bringing the slut into the fold,’ and it made her sick. Halfway through she shoved Emma off of her and dragged her out of the room. There were small study rooms along the hall and she pushed her inside, slamming the door and locking it behind them.
“Stop being such a whore!”
Emma blinked at her, stunned. “What?”
Emily felt pained, and couldn’t meet her eyes. She had no right to feel like this. “Fuck,” she hissed, to herself.
Suddenly she felt hands unfastening her jeans and tugging them down her hips. “You seriously need to wear skirts more often.” Emma muttered, giving them a sharp jerk. Emily’s knees buckled and she dragged the chair over to land in it.
“What are you…”
Emma gave her an amused look and bit down lightly on the inside of her thigh. “It was a fucking boring movie,” she said, and slid her tongue in to curl around Emily’s piercing.
* * *
Part 7
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17 (Oh yeah)
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 2163
Prompt: 040. Biting
Apologies: And more of the Princeton Eating Club AU! If you don't know what Eating Clubs are, think Hellfire Club for college students. Bicker is the system for picking new members to let into the club.
And the central plot finally makes a reappearance! Along with vast amounts of smut!
*Someone* was begging for this. You know who you are.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Emma didn’t wear the handcuffs that night. Walking back up through town and then through campus she had stayed close to Emily, letting their shoulders brush, and almost leaning on her. And it almost felt like a statement. Emma was probably used to getting looks as boys walked past, Emily wasn’t, unless they were accompanied by whispers (“did you see her?” “That’s the girl who… on Newman’s day…”), but when a pack of Charter boys gamboled past, they glanced once, and Emily caught a distinct look of disappointment on at least one of their faces.
“You’re lucky I’m not the kind of girl who only allows a kiss goodnight,” Emma murmured into her neck as Emily fumbled with her ID to get them into the building.
“Lucky?” Emily gave her an amused look. Emma was half settled into her hip, hot in the cool night air. “Because you’ve slept with more people than you can count?”
“No,” Emma scowled. “And I can count,” she winced as she considered this. “At least… I can get a general estimate, if I add a couple for each night I was blackout drunk. And I haven’t blacked out since freshman year.” She tugged on Emily’s hair and nipped at her ear. “It’s because,” she drawled, as if Emily really didn’t know. “I really want to fuck you tonight.”
Emma leaned in. Emily kissed her lazily, before shoving open the door and tugging her up the stairs. She opened the door to her room and let Emma pass, pushing her in with a sharp shove. Emma stumbled back and dropped onto the futon, kicking off her shoes. She leaned back, stripping her shirt off over her head and shaking out her hair. Emily didn’t bother turning on the light, just stepped out of her own boots and crossed the room at a pace.
Emma gave her a dark, dirty, challenging grin, and Emily caught her wrists, pushing her down onto the bed and crawling on top of her. “You were saying you were going to fuck me?”
Emma pulled in a quick breath, and Emily bent down pressing her mouth to her fluttering pulse. Emma let out a soft sound, not quite a whimper or a moan, and tipped her head back, giving her more access. “You can bite me if you want,” she whispered. “I want you to bite me.”
Emily pushed up to meet her gaze. She knew what that was like, how it could feel. But you never knew what it meant for anyone besides yourself. Pinned under her, Emma’s dark seductive gaze was gone, and she looked wide-eyed and young, lips swollen and parted. Emily dipped her head to catch her lower lip between her teeth and tug gently. She let it go, soothing it with a kiss half off her mouth, and lifted up.
“You really want that?”
Emma nodded.
“Why?” Emma’s shoulders stiffened at the question. Emily closed her knees around Emma’s hips so she couldn’t wriggle away, keeping her wrists pressed deeply into the bed. “Do you want me to hurt you? Or do you want me to mark you?”
Emma swallowed, and Emily watched the motion of the throat, planning her attack. “Both.”
“Good.”
Emily ducked back down, sliding her tongue into the tight crevasse of her cleavage and then dragging it up her chest, licking over the curve of her collarbone and pressing a wet kiss to her neck. She sucked on the soft skin, hard, making it pull and twinge. Emma groaned under her, lifting her hips, trying to rub them against her. Emily kept her tightly clasped between her knees, and then scraped her eyeteeth over the curve of her shoulder. Emma gasped and Emily made small nips, just hard enough for her to feel it up along the edge of her throat.
Emma jerked her hips and struggled against the grip on her wrists. “Enough with the damn foreplay already,” she hissed.
Emily pulled away and gave her a curious look. “You’re done?”
“You fucking sadist!”
Emily laughed and nipped at her chin before moving down farther and clasping the central strap of her bra in her teeth and tugging at it until her breasts were free. This time she bit lightly on the skin on the curve of her breast. Emma tipped back her head, gasping. Emily lapped at her nipple, soothingly. It didn’t sooth. Emma whimpered, tears trickling out the corners of her eyes. She bit again, leaving red tracks on the pale skin.
“You like?” Emily whispered. Emma moaned.
She moved up again, but not hovering, sliding her body against her, letting the roughness of her shirt catch on Emma’s breasts, and lying on top of her, mouth by her ear. “It’s the little bites that leave marks, that sting. They’re the ones that make you feel something.” She sucked on Emma’s earlobe, feeling the desperate grind of her hips. But her wrists were limp in her grasp, unresisting. Emily buried her face in her neck, and bit down, hard and heavy, for the bruising. Emma spasmed underneath her, crying out. Emily gasped at the way she moved, and clenched down tighter around her wrists and legs.
She let Emma loose, sitting up, and looking down at her. Emma met her gaze, still panting. “If you tell anyone about that…” she hissed, gasping in between words.
Emily just gave her a smile. “Dou you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” She scrunched her skirt up around her hips. “When you’re so turned on you can’t even speak.” She moved, parting Emma’s legs and settling between them. Kneeling there she reached forward, undoing Emma’s bra and extracting it, then letting her hands curl around her breasts.
“Oh god.” Emma scrubbed at her eyes with a fist, lifting her hips wantonly, and pushing towards Emily’s knees.
“You have no idea how much I want my fingers inside of you.”
“Just,” Emma said weakly, “just do whatever you want to me. You don’t need to hold me down.”
Without preamble, Emily roughly pushed three fingers straight into her. She was so hot and wet and tight around her, so wet that the warm hollow between her thighs where Emily’s hand rested was sticky, suggesting that Emma had actually come just from being bitten. And Emily couldn’t help the sound that escaped her at the feel of it. She curled her fingers, just rocking her hand, and Emma made a keening gasp and tried to sit up or more forward or something unsuccessful. Emily dropped down over her, biting at the other side of her neck. Emma lifted her hips, fucking against her hand. Her hands both gripped Emily’s hair, twisting into it, and holding her tightly to her neck.
Emily’s hand was still moving, driving in and out, the heel of her hand pressing down on her clit. Emma was making tiny rough noises against her, her hands leaving her hair and rumpling up the back of her shirt until they were underneath, leaving little half moon indents of fingernails. Emily knew she was grinding helplessly against her thigh, but Emma was pushing it right into her crotch. She felt Emma moving more quickly and sounding more desperate under her, and increased her speed in kind. She bit down again, just to keep herself from letting out any more embarrassing sounds, and Emma arched, coming under her, and her nails raked hot red lines across her back.
Emily came in her jeans.
* * *
Emma woke up naked and unbound in Emily’s futon, the other girl’s hot bare skin against her side. She sat up, swinging her feet out of bed, then glanced over and caught sight of herself in the mirror and froze.
Emily woke up slowly and saw her still staring at her own reflection.
“Oh my god, I went to town,” she mumbled, sleepily.
“I don’t have anything that will cover this up.”
“It’s not my fault you’re pasty.”
Emma just glared at her.
“Or that you apparently have some weird vampire fetish.”
“Shut up!” Emma swept her hair back, getting a better view of the mess Emily had made of her neck and shoulder. “Do you have anything that could possibly make it more obvious that I’m your fucktoy?”
“Um…” Emily crawled off the futon, tripping over her jeans, where they lay in a haphazard pile on the floor, but catching herself before she fell. She made it over to the desk and opened the bottom drawer and rummaged around. She found what she was looking for and tossed it to Emma who caught it out of the air. “You could wear that?”
Emma gaped at the worn leather collar. “Yours?”
“Yeah.”
Emma laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, what the fuck. Why not?”
* * *
Ro just stared, her mouth hanging open, when she came over to study. Emma gave her a dirty look before heading out in the direction of the psychology library.
“I thought you said you were fucking her, not that you bought her from whatever kinky slave auction your club’s been holding.”
Emily just gave her a look. “Don’t ever mention that again, because seriously, if Seb catches wind of it, there will be one.”
Ro gave her a curious smile. “Does your ex know you’ve taken on her mantle of playing Dom to vulnerable underclassmen?”
Emily cringed. “It’s temporary. And singular.”
“Did you… actually break up with her? Or did she just let the reins loose while you were finishing school?”
This was not a question that Emily was entirely prepared to answer. She shrugged awkwardly. “She works for my parents. After the first mess… they like her. My dad calls her his protégée They’d like it if I were part of their world, even if it was just showing my face at parties. They wouldn’t have a problem if-“
“If she locked you up and beat you regularly?” Ro made a sound of frustration. “I guess that answers my question. And you’d let her. Because it’s less effort than to fight it. And does your current know this? Or is she just letting you mark up her body and boss her around for no good reason at all? Or did your mistress tell you that you needed to get a third?”
“She’s doing it to get into the club.” Emily snapped back. “If she proves that she can give up control over her sexuality, she’s allowed in. It doesn’t have anything to do with me!”
Ro stared at her. “That’s sick,” she said, flatly and with feeling. “And if you think that’s all that’s going on around here, your mistress taught you nothing about headspace. Suck on that, psych major. She’s wearing your collar, and your teethmarks, in public, alone.”
“Good!” Emily retorted. “Maybe then people will stop touching my property!”
Ro blinked at her. “Yeah, lets do some studying, because I so have no idea what’s going on with you.”
* * *
Jeannie dropped her plate when they came into the dining room that night. Over her collar Emma had a tight white short-sleeved button down, open just enough at the neck to suggest that the bruising went down quite a bit farther than was polite. The pleated skirt just finished the effect of a wet dream come true.
McCoy came over to their table and gave Emma a pat on the shoulder. “Congrats,” he said, in an amused rumble. “Don’t forget. Initiations are next Sunday night, after the game on Saturday.”
Emily clenched her fists into the tablecloth to keep herself from knocking his hand off of Emma’s shoulder.
“Thanks,” Emma replied, giving him a sly narrow-eyed smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Emily restrained herself from punching someone.
There was a movie on after dinner in the room upstairs, and Emily pulled Emma into her lap. It didn’t stop the looks, or the occasional, surreptitious possessive touches by others. The boys were so pleased with Emily for ‘bringing the slut into the fold,’ and it made her sick. Halfway through she shoved Emma off of her and dragged her out of the room. There were small study rooms along the hall and she pushed her inside, slamming the door and locking it behind them.
“Stop being such a whore!”
Emma blinked at her, stunned. “What?”
Emily felt pained, and couldn’t meet her eyes. She had no right to feel like this. “Fuck,” she hissed, to herself.
Suddenly she felt hands unfastening her jeans and tugging them down her hips. “You seriously need to wear skirts more often.” Emma muttered, giving them a sharp jerk. Emily’s knees buckled and she dragged the chair over to land in it.
“What are you…”
Emma gave her an amused look and bit down lightly on the inside of her thigh. “It was a fucking boring movie,” she said, and slid her tongue in to curl around Emily’s piercing.
* * *
Part 7