Demons (Epilogue)
Title: Demons (Epilogue)
Author: Alsike
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss, some Emily/Pietro Maximoff
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: War, violence, threat of rape.
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 4572
Summary: Part 3 of Emily is a spy in WWI story. There is no actually historical accuracy intended in this.
There was not enough smut in this. And the end was weak. Here's the final part, which has an image I had hanging around from the beginning.
Part 1
Part 2a
Part 2b
Part 3
“I don’t - I don’t think I can wear something like this.”
Emily turned around and stared. Emma’s dress was sleek and black, the hem rising daringly above her knee, silk stockings making her legs so tempting to touch, her heels shifting her stance.
“You’re beautiful.”
And she was, she always had been. Her eyes, though still a perfect blue, were no longer ice. They were softened by the weeks of peace, the sight of the children playing, the knowledge that they were safe. But now they were lost, and a little afraid. Emily stepped toward her and caught her hand. She brought it to her mouth and kissed the palm.
“You never aren’t. When I first saw you I thought you as beautiful as the morning star.”
Emma looked bewildered for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed. “You were hallucinating. And if I recall, you thought me Lucifer. As beautiful as the morning star indeed.”
“What would you prefer to wear? I might be able to find a habit.”
Emma shook her head. “I haven’t felt safe being a woman in a long time, but I am no longer fit to be a nun.”
Emily cocked her head and smiled. “I think, perhaps, I have a solution.”
She slipped off down the hall and knocked on the butler’s door.
The suit clung to her narrow form like a sheath to a knife. Emma threaded her fingers through her hair. It had not been shorn since her order had fled their convent, but it still only fell a little past her ears. Emily stood behind her, staring beyond her to the reflection of the woman, high unbuttoned collar, bowtie untied and hanging around her neck, crisp black jacket. She swallowed.
Emma stared at herself in the mirror and the corner of her lips quirked up in a smile. Emily bit down on the inside of her lip to restrain herself. She had wanted her when she was Lucifer, bloodstained in judgement, and yet she wanted her just as much when she was Mephistopheles.
* * *
The champagne bubbled in the glasses, which let out musical clinks as they were raised in toasts, toasts to violent deaths and savage reparations.
“Emily, dear.”
Emily stared at her mother. After all the things that this woman had made her do, she made her host a party to celebrate the diplomatic victory that was nothing more than a rape of a broken country.
Her mother glanced around, seeing Kurt in his well cut suit, Jennifer and Kitty in their dresses talking broken English mixed with Alsatian, laughing, with the pilot, Lieutenant Morgan, and Sergeant Reid. It was too late for Rebecca to be up, though she had complained vociferously about missing the party. Her mother’s lips quirked down.
“How on earth, Emily, did you manage to come home from a spying mission with a pack of Alsatian brats? Honestly.”
Emily’s face flushed. “Those Alsatian brats won us the war.”
“Stop being an idiot. The Americans won us the war. You may have helped a little.”
Emily couldn’t bear it anymore. She had sacrificed so much, and her mother didn’t even care. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” she said. “I fought your war for you. I killed for you. I did what you told me. I sabotaged trains, I planted explosives, I fucked a man for you and I murdered him. And if I hadn’t gotten my information to the Americans, they would have been running. But I didn’t do that for you. I did it for them, with them, because they deserve a home that’s not destroyed by war. They deserve a chance to live.”
“You were always pathetic. Four brats and a mutt.”
“Don’t forget me.” Emma sauntered up. The tuxedo looked perfect on her, her hair slicked back, eyes bright with mischief. She offered Emily a fresh glass. Elizabeth blinked at the apparition that took Emily’s arm, leaning into her, just enough to signal possession.
“Don’t tell me you’ve finally found a-” but then Elizabeth spotted the curve of her hips and the smooth muscles of her legs. Her eyes narrowed in disgust. “One of your whores?”
Emily laughed at that. “Mother, be polite when you haven’t been introduced. Sister Emmaline, of the Dominican Order of St. Margaret in Alsace.”
Emma shook her head. “If I’m not going back, it’s not fair to introduce me like that.”
“Go back to what?” Emily said softly. The order was gone, their escape having only ended in disaster.
Emma ignored her and examined her mother instead. “I was wondering,” she said coolly, “why you felt it appropriate to hold a celebration here, when it isn’t even your estate.”
Elizabeth sputtered under her gaze. “It’s my daughter’s estate. Emily does what I-”
“Emily is an adult. And when she said that she did not wish to celebrate such a disgusting event as this, you were supposed to listen.”
“How dare you!”
“Emma,” Emily touched her arm. “Thank you for defending my honor. But I think I can manage my mother on my own.”
Emma eyed her. “Then do it.”
“Mother,” Emily said. “I no longer work for you, and I am no longer required to obey you. After tonight, I want you to leave my property and not come back. My pack of Alsatian brats will have the run of the place, and I shouldn’t want you to rub your filthy, selfish, manipulative views on any of them. I won’t let you do to them what you did to me.”
He mother gasped. Emma squeezed her arm. She glanced over and offered a smile in thanks for the support.
“I have paid my debt to you. Now let me do what I wish with the life I have left.”
Elizabeth, horribly offended, turned on her heel and stalked away.
“Beautiful,” Emma said. “I knew you had it in you.”
Emily looked into her face, and her heart hurt. “I need you,” she whispered. She tugged Emma back into the shrubbery until they were out of sight. “You’re the only one who reminds me of who I am. You’re the only one who really knows.”
Emma cupped her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. Emily moaned into it. Emma’s hand slid over her ass, squeezing as she passed, and then down under the hem of her skirt. She lifted her leg, fingers tucked under her knee, and traced her way back up under the skirt.
“I know I will end up in hell,” Emma’s voice was hot by her ear. “But I will take what I can of happiness before it begins.”
She slid into her, and Emily’s head bent, pressing against her shoulder as she sucked in a gasp of air. Pressing her against the stone wall, Emma kissed her throat and then her mouth, three fingers fucking into her. Emily’s fist clenched in Emma’s hair; her legs locked around her waist. Her breath came heavily. Emma twisted her wrist and crooked her fingers, and Emily desperately scrabbled for purchase, and then-
“Oh.” Emily arched into her, pulling at her hair, nails digging into her suit jacket, legs crushing her for a moment, and then she slumped. Carefully, Emma helped her slide down the wall until she was on her feet, though her knees were shaky.
Emily leaned in for a light brush of lips. “Is there any chance...”
Emma settled back, looking at her, at her bright intent eyes and sex-flushed face, and breathed in through her nose. Then she nodded, stiffly. “You can.”
Was it a giving up of power? Emily’s eyes alit with eagerness. She leaned in, licking her way into Emma’s mouth. She dropped kisses on her throat as she slid down to kneel in the garden. Emma stared down at the top of her head. She glanced up. Their eyes met. Need, desire, supplication. But her eyes were warm and open, no cool killer’s glint, ugly dominance and self-satisfaction. Emma let herself lean back against the wall and looked up, past the glow of colored lanterns, ignoring the strains of violins, and watched the stars. How far away was judgement? As far as those timeless glinting lights?
Emily had unfastened her trousers and was inching them down her hips.
There had been so much suffering, so much loss. What was one more surrender?
Emily’s breath against bare skin, the darting, teasing first flick of her tongue, and Emma threaded her fingers into her hair and let herself be lost.
FIN
Author: Alsike
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss, some Emily/Pietro Maximoff
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: War, violence, threat of rape.
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 4572
Summary: Part 3 of Emily is a spy in WWI story. There is no actually historical accuracy intended in this.
There was not enough smut in this. And the end was weak. Here's the final part, which has an image I had hanging around from the beginning.
Part 1
Part 2a
Part 2b
Part 3
“I don’t - I don’t think I can wear something like this.”
Emily turned around and stared. Emma’s dress was sleek and black, the hem rising daringly above her knee, silk stockings making her legs so tempting to touch, her heels shifting her stance.
“You’re beautiful.”
And she was, she always had been. Her eyes, though still a perfect blue, were no longer ice. They were softened by the weeks of peace, the sight of the children playing, the knowledge that they were safe. But now they were lost, and a little afraid. Emily stepped toward her and caught her hand. She brought it to her mouth and kissed the palm.
“You never aren’t. When I first saw you I thought you as beautiful as the morning star.”
Emma looked bewildered for a moment, and then her eyes narrowed. “You were hallucinating. And if I recall, you thought me Lucifer. As beautiful as the morning star indeed.”
“What would you prefer to wear? I might be able to find a habit.”
Emma shook her head. “I haven’t felt safe being a woman in a long time, but I am no longer fit to be a nun.”
Emily cocked her head and smiled. “I think, perhaps, I have a solution.”
She slipped off down the hall and knocked on the butler’s door.
The suit clung to her narrow form like a sheath to a knife. Emma threaded her fingers through her hair. It had not been shorn since her order had fled their convent, but it still only fell a little past her ears. Emily stood behind her, staring beyond her to the reflection of the woman, high unbuttoned collar, bowtie untied and hanging around her neck, crisp black jacket. She swallowed.
Emma stared at herself in the mirror and the corner of her lips quirked up in a smile. Emily bit down on the inside of her lip to restrain herself. She had wanted her when she was Lucifer, bloodstained in judgement, and yet she wanted her just as much when she was Mephistopheles.
* * *
The champagne bubbled in the glasses, which let out musical clinks as they were raised in toasts, toasts to violent deaths and savage reparations.
“Emily, dear.”
Emily stared at her mother. After all the things that this woman had made her do, she made her host a party to celebrate the diplomatic victory that was nothing more than a rape of a broken country.
Her mother glanced around, seeing Kurt in his well cut suit, Jennifer and Kitty in their dresses talking broken English mixed with Alsatian, laughing, with the pilot, Lieutenant Morgan, and Sergeant Reid. It was too late for Rebecca to be up, though she had complained vociferously about missing the party. Her mother’s lips quirked down.
“How on earth, Emily, did you manage to come home from a spying mission with a pack of Alsatian brats? Honestly.”
Emily’s face flushed. “Those Alsatian brats won us the war.”
“Stop being an idiot. The Americans won us the war. You may have helped a little.”
Emily couldn’t bear it anymore. She had sacrificed so much, and her mother didn’t even care. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” she said. “I fought your war for you. I killed for you. I did what you told me. I sabotaged trains, I planted explosives, I fucked a man for you and I murdered him. And if I hadn’t gotten my information to the Americans, they would have been running. But I didn’t do that for you. I did it for them, with them, because they deserve a home that’s not destroyed by war. They deserve a chance to live.”
“You were always pathetic. Four brats and a mutt.”
“Don’t forget me.” Emma sauntered up. The tuxedo looked perfect on her, her hair slicked back, eyes bright with mischief. She offered Emily a fresh glass. Elizabeth blinked at the apparition that took Emily’s arm, leaning into her, just enough to signal possession.
“Don’t tell me you’ve finally found a-” but then Elizabeth spotted the curve of her hips and the smooth muscles of her legs. Her eyes narrowed in disgust. “One of your whores?”
Emily laughed at that. “Mother, be polite when you haven’t been introduced. Sister Emmaline, of the Dominican Order of St. Margaret in Alsace.”
Emma shook her head. “If I’m not going back, it’s not fair to introduce me like that.”
“Go back to what?” Emily said softly. The order was gone, their escape having only ended in disaster.
Emma ignored her and examined her mother instead. “I was wondering,” she said coolly, “why you felt it appropriate to hold a celebration here, when it isn’t even your estate.”
Elizabeth sputtered under her gaze. “It’s my daughter’s estate. Emily does what I-”
“Emily is an adult. And when she said that she did not wish to celebrate such a disgusting event as this, you were supposed to listen.”
“How dare you!”
“Emma,” Emily touched her arm. “Thank you for defending my honor. But I think I can manage my mother on my own.”
Emma eyed her. “Then do it.”
“Mother,” Emily said. “I no longer work for you, and I am no longer required to obey you. After tonight, I want you to leave my property and not come back. My pack of Alsatian brats will have the run of the place, and I shouldn’t want you to rub your filthy, selfish, manipulative views on any of them. I won’t let you do to them what you did to me.”
He mother gasped. Emma squeezed her arm. She glanced over and offered a smile in thanks for the support.
“I have paid my debt to you. Now let me do what I wish with the life I have left.”
Elizabeth, horribly offended, turned on her heel and stalked away.
“Beautiful,” Emma said. “I knew you had it in you.”
Emily looked into her face, and her heart hurt. “I need you,” she whispered. She tugged Emma back into the shrubbery until they were out of sight. “You’re the only one who reminds me of who I am. You’re the only one who really knows.”
Emma cupped her cheek and leaned in to kiss her. Emily moaned into it. Emma’s hand slid over her ass, squeezing as she passed, and then down under the hem of her skirt. She lifted her leg, fingers tucked under her knee, and traced her way back up under the skirt.
“I know I will end up in hell,” Emma’s voice was hot by her ear. “But I will take what I can of happiness before it begins.”
She slid into her, and Emily’s head bent, pressing against her shoulder as she sucked in a gasp of air. Pressing her against the stone wall, Emma kissed her throat and then her mouth, three fingers fucking into her. Emily’s fist clenched in Emma’s hair; her legs locked around her waist. Her breath came heavily. Emma twisted her wrist and crooked her fingers, and Emily desperately scrabbled for purchase, and then-
“Oh.” Emily arched into her, pulling at her hair, nails digging into her suit jacket, legs crushing her for a moment, and then she slumped. Carefully, Emma helped her slide down the wall until she was on her feet, though her knees were shaky.
Emily leaned in for a light brush of lips. “Is there any chance...”
Emma settled back, looking at her, at her bright intent eyes and sex-flushed face, and breathed in through her nose. Then she nodded, stiffly. “You can.”
Was it a giving up of power? Emily’s eyes alit with eagerness. She leaned in, licking her way into Emma’s mouth. She dropped kisses on her throat as she slid down to kneel in the garden. Emma stared down at the top of her head. She glanced up. Their eyes met. Need, desire, supplication. But her eyes were warm and open, no cool killer’s glint, ugly dominance and self-satisfaction. Emma let herself lean back against the wall and looked up, past the glow of colored lanterns, ignoring the strains of violins, and watched the stars. How far away was judgement? As far as those timeless glinting lights?
Emily had unfastened her trousers and was inching them down her hips.
There had been so much suffering, so much loss. What was one more surrender?
Emily’s breath against bare skin, the darting, teasing first flick of her tongue, and Emma threaded her fingers into her hair and let herself be lost.
FIN