Lycanthropy 2
Title: Lycanthropy (Part 2)
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Peter Parker, Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 3406
Prompt: 034. Animalistic
Apologies: Clearly it being 10 degrees cooler today means that I am 39% more positive about my fic. Ignore previous complaints. This fic is awesome! Or, you know, vaguely unobjectionable? No explicit het sex this time, although it is mentioned.
The one good thing about being an Ambassador’s daughter was that she could get a doctor’s appointment on a Saturday. Doctor McCoy looked worried at her description of the scene and her explanation of how angry she had gotten. She didn’t tell him about the dreams. He gave her a prescription for more Epipens and a few he had on hand, just in case. He told her how proud of her he was for the way she had dealt with the reaction. Running was an excellent way to divert and channel one’s energy. But as comforting as he tried to be, Emily could smell the fear on him, and it made her sick to her stomach.
“So you made it back from your run,” Miss Hartley said, barely glancing at her and showing no interest.
“Yeah,” said Emily. She had come back in afterwards, but the secretary was already gone. Normally she would feel guilty and try to defend herself, but Dr McCoy had upped her meds, and she just felt tired and depressed.
“You met Ms Frost.” It wasn’t a question.
“Does she usually make that… strong of a first impression?”
Miss Hartley eyed her over her glasses. “I doubt a splash of scalding coffee is the way most people say hello. Your encounter was rather singular on both sides.”
“Encounter?” Emily muttered to herself grimly. That made her think of woods for some reason, speckled light, and quick rough sex against a tree. She suppressed the thought immediately, and the memory of the dream from that night. “She was so angry. I didn’t… I was just trying to find out-“
“If she dressed like a slut?”
Emily stiffened, suddenly angry. The back of her neck prickled. “What? Don’t you-“
“You didn’t go to her. You didn’t ask. You objectified.”
“She really doesn’t look like the sort to mind a little objectification!”
Miss Hartley just gave her a cool look, and Emily cringed.
“It’s always lovely to know what you think of me, Ms Prentiss,” came a voice from behind her. “But Miss Lee and I require you to do some actual work.”
Emily turned around slowly, begging the drugs to kick in and not let her savage the woman right there. Ms Frost was clearly tensed, ready for an attack. “No onslaught of coffee this time?”
Emily swallowed hard. It wasn’t as bad as she had expected. The meds were holding the reins on her anger, and the woman didn’t deserve it. She hadn’t deserved that last comment either. “I’m… I’m really sorry about that,” Emily said softly. She looked down and then away, not liking the way her skin prickled when she looked at the high heeled boots that cupped Ms Frost’s calves and made the lines of her feet and ankles sleek and military. She shifted uncomfortably. Miss Lee, a tiny Asian girl in a yellow raincoat and ragged jeans decorated with marker, was watching them both, a rather amused expression on her face. It probably wasn’t a good idea to let the students become too aware of their elders’ failings.
“As if that’s all you have to apologize for,” Ms Frost sniffed, and Emily decided to take it as ‘apology accepted.’
“What do you need me for?”
Ms Frost put her hand on the girl’s shoulder and pushed her forward. “Miss Lee isn’t finding her schedule challenging enough.”
The girl scowled petulantly. Emily smiled. “Okay, come in and we’ll see what we can do.”
Having Ms Frost in her office was a trial of a new order. Miss Lee looked around with interest, but seemed generally pleased. Ms Frost was slower and more considering. Emily swallowed hard and maneuvered around so she could leave the door open. In that tiny room the scent would quickly become unbearable. She logged into the scheduling program and pulled up Lee, Jubilation on the screen.
Ms Frost settled into the chair, Jubilee swinging her feet uncomfortably, and then, with Emily’s first question, everything just shifted and it was suddenly fine.
“You’re in AP History, I see. Is that going okay?”
“It’s fine,” Jubilee said, rolling her eyes. “But my teacher’s a bit of a bitch.”
Emma cuffed her head and Jubilee ducked, grinning. Emily’s cheeks felt hot. Of course that was Ms Frost’s class.
“It’s my other classes that she thinks are the problem. I think they’re just boring, but she says they wouldn’t be as boring if they were ‘in the least difficult.’” Jubilee mocked her teacher’s accent.
So they went through her schedule, class by class, and each time Jubilee said she wasn’t good at Math or Science or Language, Ms Frost reminded her of something she had said, boasting or gossiping that belied her assertion, and proved that she could do fine.
Emily had to repress her laughter at the awkward look Jubilee had on her face when her teacher reminded her of the time she had been boasting about getting paid to do an older boy’s homework for him, and how he had been caught for cheating because the paper was too good to pass off as his.
Moaning over her new friendless schedule Jubilee slipped out, but Ms Frost stayed for a moment. Emily’s eyes ran over her, alone again and with moving air the scent was stronger, although her only reaction was an uncomfortable quiver in her belly. “Your heels aren’t as high today.”
Ms Frost shot her a dark look. “I’m afraid you caught me on a day where I had a date scheduled, Ms Prentiss.” She frowned. “With your coffee throwing you could have forced me to cancel. Luckily I’m prepared for accidents.” She clearly didn’t believe it was an accident.
The tension radiating through her made Emily spit out a response. “You were the one who startled me.”
“I’ll send you the cleaning bill.”
It was only then that Emily noticed the band on her finger, and the rock that surmounted it. It sent a shock through her, as bad as the first time, and just as absurd and illogical a reaction. She nodded toward it roughly. “Doesn’t look like you need the cash.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky you didn’t make me miss that date. If I had had to stand him up for his proposal, you would have suffered for it.”
“Oh? You’re engaged?” Emily sneered. “I thought it was a present from your john.”
Emily cringed at the venom coming out of her mouth. She really hadn’t meant to go that far. Ms Frost looked furious and Emily braced herself for another slap.
“I’m sorry,” said Emma, an odd snide smile crossing her face. “Were you saving your pennies so you could afford this.” She indicated herself with a long sweep of her hand. “I’m afraid it's off the market.”
Emily had a sudden impulsive thought. She could drop to her knees right there and beg Emma to use her mouth to get herself off. She would shove up her skirt, cup the heels of her boots, and press her face into warm heat, tongue fuck her until she was clinging to the edge of the desk, desperate to come, her chest heaving, her perfect hair ruined by sweat and motion, and falling in her face.
But before it could be anything more than an impulse, the door was closing behind Ms Frost and Emily was alone in her office, surrounded by nothing more than the teasing of a lingering scent.
* * *
It was not a good day for any of Emma’s classes. The moment her after-school clubs ended she called Peter. “Dinner? Tonight? Half-an-hour?”
He laughed. “Can we make it an hour? I’m a bit covered in algae still.”
“Are you still playing with green goo?” Emma snorted. “Fine, an hour. I need a shower as well.”
She took the edge off in the shower, but she didn’t put on underwear when she got dressed.
* * *
“I can’t believe myself. I’m not rude. I don't usually accuse people of being whores, do I?”
Penelope Garcia, software designer and technology blogger, blinked and took another sip of her martini. “No, that’s me.”
JJ Jareau, kindergarten teacher, nodded.
“Or cover them with coffee?”
“Well, that’s more like you,” said JJ. “But not the whores. Not unless it’s a friend of your mother’s.”
Emily gave a little groan and fiddled with her Epipen. “When she left today I wanted to just jab myself until I passed out. I don’t like this, feeling all out of control.” She sighed and tapped the cap with her thumb. “I’m scared. The drugs are helping, but I’m so afraid it’s just getting worse.”
“You could just ask her out,” suggested Garcia.
“What?” Emily blinked and looked skittish. JJ threw Garcia a rather shocked look.
“You sound like an eight year old boy in a sandbox. I know what your doctor told you, but it always seemed pretty idiotic to me. If you hold it all down it’s going to come out in a rush eventually, and maybe that’s all this is. You need to get laid sometime. Repression just makes it worse.”
“Fabulous advice, love guru,” JJ snapped. “This woman sounds like a bitch who makes Emily unhappy, violently unhappy, and you’re setting them up now?”
“Oh come on,” Penelope said with a grin. “Tell me there’s not some attraction there.”
Emily grimaced, trying not to think of the thoughts that had been plaguing her. She couldn’t deny it. “She’s engaged,” she tried. “Even if I were… it couldn’t happen.”
“Too bad. I hoped you were finally showing interest in someone. Maybe we could locate a good no strings hookup, to get the edge off?”
Both Emily and JJ fixed her with a disapproving glare. “You know she’s not supposed to let go like that,” JJ snapped.
“It wasn’t just attraction,” Emily tried to explain. “I can deal with that. It really made me start to feel sick. It was like…”
“Electricity?” Garcia tried hopefully. “Magnetism? Lust?”
“She doesn’t dress appropriately for school! Her breasts are like…” Emily cupped the air before her brassiere. “And her shirts pretend to be all modest, but she leans over and the sides part, and cleavage, and her skirts are so tight and her heels… Oh my god.” Emily stared. “She’s right over there.”
Garcia and JJ looked.
“Oh god, don’t look.” Emily tried to cover her face.
“The blonde one? She looks sort of cold to me,” JJ said. “The guy she’s with is pretty gorgeous though.”
“Do you have a librarian fetish, Emily?” asked Garcia, amusement in her voice. “She has glasses like mine.”
“Glasses?” Emily couldn’t help turning to see, but instead saw something she very much did not want to see. “Oh my god, she’s coming over here.”
“Hello, Ms Prentiss.”
Emily looked up. The glasses were incredibly distracting, as was the slight flush of wine in her cheeks, and the strong scent of perfume that could not totally mask the lingering arousal on her skin. “Hi… Emma.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Now you’re not even giving me a courtesy title, after I did so for you?”
Emily’s eyes widened. She was looking for a fight. The scents grew stronger and more distracting. “What? We're not at work. Why did you even come over here?” she snapped.
Emma tensed, her face twisting into a scowl. “So you want me to ignore you? Would that make your little quest to get me fired weigh less on your conscience?”
“Is your pathological need to believe I want you fired some sort of sign that you deserve it?”
“You wish. Just like you wish you could get rid of me, pipsqueak.”
“Pipsqueak? I’m older than you!”
“Then you should know better than to judge me by your prudish desperately single morality.”
“I’m not a prude,” Emily tried to say. It came out more as a growl.
Emma’s face was clearly flushed now and she leaned forward over the table, taking off her glasses, and causing a curtain of hair to fall in her face. “Then prove it,” she growled back, then whirled and stalked away, stiff as an offended cat, quickly slipping her arm into that of a handsome pleasant-looking man who glanced back at their table with a worried expression on his face before letting Emma drag him out of the restaurant.
Hot fury raced through her, and Emily wanted to savage him, go after her, keep her. She jumped up, ready to lunge after her, but both her friends grabbed her and dragged her back down into her seat.
“Let go! Let go!” She fought them, tearing at them with nails that were more like claws, and knocking over one of the glasses in a wild swing. It shattered, Emily froze, and JJ took the opportunity to stick her with the Epipen.
“Shit!” Emily stared at her tiny wound and then back at her betrayer of a friend. “You didn’t have to. I wasn’t that out of it.” She looked at the wrecked table and couldn’t deny the lie in her words. She dropped her head into her hands, and jerked up as her own fingers cut her forehead. “Fuck.” She wiped the blood off on her napkin. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
“We should go now.” Garcia patted her back and guided her towards the door. The drugs started to kick in before they reached the exit, and Emily’s fingers unbent as her heart rate slowed. By the time they made it to JJ’s car, Emily was barely standing on her own. She leaned against the vehicle, her head foggy, and drowsy with the sedatives.
“I like her,” Emily mumbled, half to the Volvo.
“We know, honey,” Garcia said, helping her into the car. “I think she’s into you too.”
“Really?” Emily perked up for a moment and let JJ fasten her seatbelt.
“Are you really trying to get her fired?” JJ asked, curious.
“No!” Emily leaned against the inside of the closed door, letting her eyes drift shut. “She’s a really incredible teacher. Today she came into my office and made this lazy troublemaker want to push herself. She can outwit her students and trick them into proving that they’re smarter than they think they are.”
Penelope raised an eyebrow, glancing over at JJ. “Why don’t you tell her that?”
“Tell her?”
“She might not get horribly pissed at you if you do.”
“But it would be so embarrassing!”
Garcia snorted, and JJ shook her head. But Emily didn’t notice. She was asleep.
* * *
Emma didn’t let Peter start the car. She fucked him in the parking lot and managed to shred the upholstery of the headrest. It almost made her feel better.
* * *
“Someone spike your drink last night?” Miss Hartley asked, unamused.
Emily was also unamused, being more hung-over than she had been since college. Muscle relaxant and alcohol was a bad combination. “My arm,” she muttered to herself, still irritated with JJ's quick action. “Something like that,” she replied audibly.
“You’re on cafeteria duty today,” Miss Hartley told her, as if that wasn’t the worst news of the century.
After too many fights breaking our during lunch periods, the administration had decided that the students were too confident in their superior numbers, and teachers and other staff had been assigned to be guardians of lunch on a rotating schedule.
The plan didn’t always work to calm the raging beasts. Today, with Emily’s horrible headache and nauseated stomach, exacerbated by the smell of cafeteria, they lost the war, and a flying sandwich hit her in the head.
Tuesdays always sucked, but this was excessive. As soon as the bell rang she escaped to the nearest faculty bathroom and pressed a cold paper towel to her face, trying to make the headache go away. She heard the door open behind her and oddly, the vile odor of toilets diminished, covered by a different sweeter scent.
“You have peanut butter in your hair,” said Ms Frost, stiffly.
Emily cringed and didn’t look at her. She checked in the mirror but couldn’t find it. Suddenly Emma was behind her, touching her hair. She located the offending foodstuff and brought it around so Emily could see. Emily put her damp paper towel to use. As she let go to allow Emily to take over, Emma’s hand brushed against the skin of her neck, and Emma jumped back as if burned. Emily jerked forward. It had felt like a hot poker, or a brand. She ended up bent awkwardly over the sink.
“Oh my god! Lose the static electricity!”
“It’s not me!” Emily spat back. But it was her, and she swallowed her next comment. She braced against the porcelain and groaned, hanging her head. “This is not normal.”
“And you think it’s my fault?”
Emily scowled, turning towards her and then wishing she hadn’t at the wave of pins and needles that swept her body. “Why would you say that? Why do you always think that I’m insulting you?”
“I’m pretty sure that calling me a whore doesn’t leave much opportunity for misperception!”
“As if I’m the first to ever say something like that!”
“Do you think that means I take it lightly?”
Emily swallowed hard and wished that feeling guilty didn’t make her even more angry. “No,” she said, quietly and stiffly. Her hands were stinging. Her face was hot and painful like it was sunburnt, and her breath was coming in short pants. But she kept her mouth shut. That was probably the only way to not offend her.”
Emma pressed her fingers to her forehead and then pulled them back quickly, grimacing at the thin layer of sweat that coated them. She wrinkled her nose as if she felt ill as well. “It’s the same for you, isn’t it? The tension?”
“Worse probably. I don’t usually say things like that. I don’t mean them. Well, ten minutes later I don’t mean them.”
Emma ignored her rambling. “I think I have a way to stop it.”
There was no way that she did; no way that she even knew what was going on. But Emily lit up with hope anyway. “You do? I would love to… feel sane again.”
Emma gave her a small smile. It was the first smile, and Emily tried to ignore the way the backs of her hands were itching. “Close your eyes.”
Mistake or not, Emily couldn’t do anything but obey. She tilted her head up and let her eyelids flutter shut and waited. Strangely she felt more at peace already.
In part of her head she knew she had expected the warm brush of lips across her own, but hadn’t expected it to feel like it did. At that moment, her head tipped back, lips parting, finally all of the buzzing heat and panic slowed down and fused together in a flush of steady warmth spreading through her. She wanted more of it, and pushed into the kiss, reaching out to touch Emma’s waist and pull her just a little closer. Wherever they touched was like a conduit, adding another source of the sweet feeling rushing through her.
Emma seemed to feel the same. Her mouth was wet and demanding and her hands slid down Emily’s back, fingernails tracing lines in her shirt.
And they were kissing at the sinks in the faculty bathroom. Anyone could walk in. Emily gasped and then Emma was pushing her away, flushed, lips red, eyes bright. She swallowed. “There, feels better, right?”
“I really don’t-“ Emily gasped for breath. “I don’t think this was a good idea! We’re in the bathroom-“
“That wasn’t what I asked,” Emma drawled slowly, growing relaxed and amused in response to her panic. The easy tone sent a wave of warmth through Emily, reminding her of how it had felt, and it smoothed the edges of her rising agitation.
“I…” she considered. “Yeah, I feel pretty good.” She was calm again. “What made you think of that?”
“Grounding.” Emma shrugged. “It always felt like an electric storm when we were in the same room. Sometimes lightning needs to strike.”
Emily looked down. “Sometimes it’s better if it doesn’t.”
Emma frowned, nodding as if she agreed, but then she glanced up, confused. “What do you mean?”
Emily felt sick, but she couldn't hide it, not after this. “Have you heard of Sinclair’s?”
Part 3
* * *