Devil in a Blue Dress [FanFic]
Title: Devil in a Blue Dress
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Foyet/Prentiss, Jordan Todd
Rating: FRM
Summary: Officer George Foyet learns that your first dance with one of the ladies of Quaint Cove has the potential to also be your last.
Notes: This is something of an epilogue to The Todd Case, but can also be taken as a one-shot of my Noir AU "Living For the Night" (thanks let_it_linger21 for the name)...either way it takes place a few months after that case. Again, first person (this time from Foyets's POV), dark, gritty, real noir title, some sexuality and violence.
She wears a dress made of wisps of blue fabric as she sits up at the bar. Blowjob lips sip a clear cocktail when they aren’t busy cutting down or brushing off the boys that come calling to dance. Her hair falls into a curtain after she tells the latest to buzz off and I take the opportunity to make my move.
“Emily Prentiss,” I smile out as I lean into the seat beside her, cutting her off from the next wave of losers trying to get their courage up.
Lips wet from heat and drink curl themselves into amusement. She knows me before she see me. “George Foyet.”
“Officer George Foyet.”
She laughs softly, finally turning with a grin that flashes perfectly white teeth. “What the fuck do you want, Officer?”
She knows I like a little fight in my flirt.
“So, how does it feel?”
“How does what feel?”
“To be followed.”
She’d followed me all around the city for a week, I felt it was only fair I do the same.
“Were you following me?” The woman plays dumb.
“You know I was.”
Her eyes, almost blackened by the lack of light, seem to scan the full length of my body before returning to lock with my own dark orbs. She smirks. “Good to know my tax dollars are hard at work.”
I give up a laugh. “Most of it was off-the-clock, don’t worry.”
“Didn’t have anything else better to do?”
“You interest me.”
“Why?”
I haven’t completely figured that one out myself. Maybe it was that she was ballsy enough to throw things back at me, maybe it was that she’s one of the few to fly under my radar for more than a day, maybe it was just that she seemed to interest Hotch too.
“No gloves this time?” I playfully dodge her question with one of my own as I lean into her some, set a hand at her thigh.
“They went with the hat.” She’s cool and calm even with my hand where it is as she reminds me of the fine fedora I took off her in our last meet.
“No, they didn’t.”
“Are you so sure?”
“Men’s hat, ladies’ gloves.” I point out as I lean more, slide my hand up farther. “Would you care to dance?”
Emily gives a near crooked smile. “If you think you’re up to it.”
“Always.”
***
Emily sweat slicked lips give a slow smile as her legs cross with mine on the dance floor. Damp hair fans out perfectly with each shift and turn of her body. This woman was born to dance. She knows technique, sure, but moves from the gut. Adds her own twist to each step and it’s the first time I’ve ever actually have to make the effort to keep up. I like the challenge.
I dip her so she almost rests on my hip and thigh. “So, is it Aaron’s?”
Her eyebrow quirks up a touch in confusion.
“The hat.” I clarify.
“Told you-“
I swing her back to me, breaking up her response.
“This isn’t about him. Not to me.”
“Meaning?”
She spins out with a laugh and I give her a moment in the spotlight before pulling her back. “I’m not the one who knows the man’s dressing habits.”
I smirk my smugness. “No?”
“No.”
I hand slips from small of back to cheek of ass. “How about undressing habits?”
“Jealous?”
“Curious.” I squeeze her up into me.
Her leg lifts, bends so I could slip my arm under and carry her off if I wanted. I’m tempted.
“Jealous.” Emily counters, her breath mixing into mine.
Her chest presses against me and I can feel the pounding of her heart in her breasts.
When her leg goes down my hand goes up to hips that start to swivel.
I hang on, enjoying the feel of the squirm.
“You like pushing buttons, don’t you, Emily?”
“Don’t you, George?”
Her quick, casual, counters both surprise and delight.
“Or is it more what happens after the buttons are pushed?”
“It’s the reactions,” I confess as my overall grip on the woman’s writhing body tightens with need.
“That why you use the knives, George?” Emily eases into my grip, melts her body into mine, drops her voice into my ear. “All those reactions.”
I feel a hand skim around my neck, fingers curl into my hair. Tug.
“Sometimes I use a gun.”
“But it’s not the same.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Too quick.”
“Yeah.”
She’s doing this on purpose, bringing those natural urges I have to the surface. I know she knows I have them. She’s getting me hard.
The dark-haired woman feels and smiles her victory.
Hips grind up against mine, force hands to lift that dress of hers and feel bared skin. Smooth, hot, naked skin. I growl a moan of appreciation, get harder.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Alley?” She asks under heavy breath.
I smirk at the suggestion. She wants a replay of the time she watched me, but with her as the female lead.
“Alley.” I confirm.
***
It isn’t until that first sharp burn burrows it’s way through my flesh that I realize I’ve been had.
I hear the next two shots before feeling their burns as well. By the fourth I’m crumpled into the slime and piss covered back alley. I try to catch my breath, try to get oxygen to refill my lungs as it pours out in blood from my chest.
I’ve been played.
Fuck.
There’s the slow click of approaching heels barely registering over my now raspy attempts at breathing.
“That was for me.” A woman’s voice I don’t recognize comes out from above me.
Though I can’t recall closing them I have to force my eyes open to see the dark-skinned woman standing over me.
I know her. Vaguely. I remember.
“J-J-,” I cough up some blood and laugh for reasons unknown.
Jordan Todd.
“And this is for everyone else.”
Emily.
She played me.
Jordan fires the last two shots straight at my heart.
Thank god she’s a lousy fucking shot in the dark.
"Aww, Jerks! They should've shot me in the head...and enough times to make sure." ~ Marv, Sin City
Additional Author's Note: Before anyone asks, Foyet's not dead, haha! ;-)
Author: Tooks
Pairing: Foyet/Prentiss, Jordan Todd
Rating: FRM
Summary: Officer George Foyet learns that your first dance with one of the ladies of Quaint Cove has the potential to also be your last.
Notes: This is something of an epilogue to The Todd Case, but can also be taken as a one-shot of my Noir AU "Living For the Night" (thanks let_it_linger21 for the name)...either way it takes place a few months after that case. Again, first person (this time from Foyets's POV), dark, gritty, real noir title, some sexuality and violence.
She wears a dress made of wisps of blue fabric as she sits up at the bar. Blowjob lips sip a clear cocktail when they aren’t busy cutting down or brushing off the boys that come calling to dance. Her hair falls into a curtain after she tells the latest to buzz off and I take the opportunity to make my move.
“Emily Prentiss,” I smile out as I lean into the seat beside her, cutting her off from the next wave of losers trying to get their courage up.
Lips wet from heat and drink curl themselves into amusement. She knows me before she see me. “George Foyet.”
“Officer George Foyet.”
She laughs softly, finally turning with a grin that flashes perfectly white teeth. “What the fuck do you want, Officer?”
She knows I like a little fight in my flirt.
“So, how does it feel?”
“How does what feel?”
“To be followed.”
She’d followed me all around the city for a week, I felt it was only fair I do the same.
“Were you following me?” The woman plays dumb.
“You know I was.”
Her eyes, almost blackened by the lack of light, seem to scan the full length of my body before returning to lock with my own dark orbs. She smirks. “Good to know my tax dollars are hard at work.”
I give up a laugh. “Most of it was off-the-clock, don’t worry.”
“Didn’t have anything else better to do?”
“You interest me.”
“Why?”
I haven’t completely figured that one out myself. Maybe it was that she was ballsy enough to throw things back at me, maybe it was that she’s one of the few to fly under my radar for more than a day, maybe it was just that she seemed to interest Hotch too.
“No gloves this time?” I playfully dodge her question with one of my own as I lean into her some, set a hand at her thigh.
“They went with the hat.” She’s cool and calm even with my hand where it is as she reminds me of the fine fedora I took off her in our last meet.
“No, they didn’t.”
“Are you so sure?”
“Men’s hat, ladies’ gloves.” I point out as I lean more, slide my hand up farther. “Would you care to dance?”
Emily gives a near crooked smile. “If you think you’re up to it.”
“Always.”
***
Emily sweat slicked lips give a slow smile as her legs cross with mine on the dance floor. Damp hair fans out perfectly with each shift and turn of her body. This woman was born to dance. She knows technique, sure, but moves from the gut. Adds her own twist to each step and it’s the first time I’ve ever actually have to make the effort to keep up. I like the challenge.
I dip her so she almost rests on my hip and thigh. “So, is it Aaron’s?”
Her eyebrow quirks up a touch in confusion.
“The hat.” I clarify.
“Told you-“
I swing her back to me, breaking up her response.
“This isn’t about him. Not to me.”
“Meaning?”
She spins out with a laugh and I give her a moment in the spotlight before pulling her back. “I’m not the one who knows the man’s dressing habits.”
I smirk my smugness. “No?”
“No.”
I hand slips from small of back to cheek of ass. “How about undressing habits?”
“Jealous?”
“Curious.” I squeeze her up into me.
Her leg lifts, bends so I could slip my arm under and carry her off if I wanted. I’m tempted.
“Jealous.” Emily counters, her breath mixing into mine.
Her chest presses against me and I can feel the pounding of her heart in her breasts.
When her leg goes down my hand goes up to hips that start to swivel.
I hang on, enjoying the feel of the squirm.
“You like pushing buttons, don’t you, Emily?”
“Don’t you, George?”
Her quick, casual, counters both surprise and delight.
“Or is it more what happens after the buttons are pushed?”
“It’s the reactions,” I confess as my overall grip on the woman’s writhing body tightens with need.
“That why you use the knives, George?” Emily eases into my grip, melts her body into mine, drops her voice into my ear. “All those reactions.”
I feel a hand skim around my neck, fingers curl into my hair. Tug.
“Sometimes I use a gun.”
“But it’s not the same.”
“No. It’s not.”
“Too quick.”
“Yeah.”
She’s doing this on purpose, bringing those natural urges I have to the surface. I know she knows I have them. She’s getting me hard.
The dark-haired woman feels and smiles her victory.
Hips grind up against mine, force hands to lift that dress of hers and feel bared skin. Smooth, hot, naked skin. I growl a moan of appreciation, get harder.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Alley?” She asks under heavy breath.
I smirk at the suggestion. She wants a replay of the time she watched me, but with her as the female lead.
“Alley.” I confirm.
***
It isn’t until that first sharp burn burrows it’s way through my flesh that I realize I’ve been had.
I hear the next two shots before feeling their burns as well. By the fourth I’m crumpled into the slime and piss covered back alley. I try to catch my breath, try to get oxygen to refill my lungs as it pours out in blood from my chest.
I’ve been played.
Fuck.
There’s the slow click of approaching heels barely registering over my now raspy attempts at breathing.
“That was for me.” A woman’s voice I don’t recognize comes out from above me.
Though I can’t recall closing them I have to force my eyes open to see the dark-skinned woman standing over me.
I know her. Vaguely. I remember.
“J-J-,” I cough up some blood and laugh for reasons unknown.
Jordan Todd.
“And this is for everyone else.”
Emily.
She played me.
Jordan fires the last two shots straight at my heart.
Thank god she’s a lousy fucking shot in the dark.
"Aww, Jerks! They should've shot me in the head...and enough times to make sure." ~ Marv, Sin City
Additional Author's Note: Before anyone asks, Foyet's not dead, haha! ;-)