Feral
Title: Feral
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
Word Count: 1344
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Prompt: 013. Doggie-Style
Apologies: A few months before Didi arrived, the X-Men fought the demon Belasco. Although they won, Emma was mentally incapacitated by the battle. No one could reach her. It was a long shot, but someone suggested calling Emily. That is the context for this fic.
Emma looked over her shoulder sharply at the intruder into her private nest in the back of the closet. She growled, and Emily froze, remembering the bloody marks on Remy’s arm.
“Hey, hey, it’s all right.”
Emma seemed unconvinced and she got to her knees, her shoulder blades raised as if she were bristling. The flush of fear that ran through Emily was nothing short of instinctual. Menaced by a predator, she was ready to run. But humans were stupid. She held out her fist like she would to a dog. Emma bared her teeth, but leaned forward to sniff it. She cocked her head curiously and didn’t bite. Emily opened her hand and crouched slowly. Emma crawled towards her and pressed her head into her stomach. Emily cupped the back of her head, threading her fingers through the dirty matted hair.
“Oh god, Emma. What happened to you?”
She felt a brush against her shields and lowered them, opening up to her, trying to project calm, that there was nothing to fear. She settled down into the nest and Emma curled into her lap. She nuzzled against her chest and seemed to be fighting with the shirt. Emily unbuttoned it, and Emma relaxed, pressing her cheek against bare skin, breathing in her scent.
Emma slept, finally feeling safe. Emily held the shattered woman and tried not to cry.
---
It must have been hours later when Emily awoke, having been lost in tangled nightmares about demons and wolves. Emma was looking at her, and she almost started at those piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dim closet. They seemed sharp and sentient.
“Emma-” she tried, but the woman pressed her face into Emily’s neck. The involuntary hope faded from her like a popped balloon. She could get near her, but she had no idea even how to try to save her. Emma was lost so deep in her mind, and this savage, feral ball of instincts had taken over in her place.
Something hot and wet brushed against her pulse point and she stiffened. Emma was lapping at her throat. She couldn’t want sex, could she?
Then she noticed her position. She was flat on her back, her knees up. Emma slipped one of her legs between them, and started grinding into her thigh.
She couldn’t do this. Emma was feral, with the mental competence of someone who had been badly roofied. There was no way she could consent.
The tongue had been replaced by teeth. Emma was biting and sucking on her shoulder, and Emily groaned, involuntarily lifting her hips to get some friction between her legs.
No, she shouldn’t.
“Hey, let me up, let me up.” She pushed at Emma’s shoulder and tried to wriggle out from under her. Emma looked up, curiosity written on her face, and lifted off slightly. Emily thought she had escaped and relaxed, trying to get to her feet.
In one smooth movement, Emma had flipped her over onto her stomach, and she was pinning her wrists to the floor. Her hips were pressing into Emily’s ass, and she ground them in a slow circle, something like a purr echoing from her chest.
Emily whimpered, but she wasn’t getting out of this. Her face was pushed against the wall and Emma was between her and the door. Suddenly she felt Emma’s nose rubbing into the back of her shirt. Then teeth sank into it and jerked. It tore slightly at the seams.
“Emma!”
But she was scrabbling at the shirt, and with a harsh rip it was off. Emily tried to sit up, but the moment her hands were up, Emma shoved her back down, so her face was pressed into the blankets of the nest. Holding her down, Emma bit at the waistband of her jeans and tried to pull them down. Unsuccessful, she rubbed her face along the seam that ran down her ass and between her legs, and whimpered.
It was pathetic, and Emily bit down on her lower lip, trying to keep herself from offering the woman whatever she wanted. Emma squirmed up her back again and rocked into her. She licked her back. Emily wondered what she was waiting for. If she really wanted to, couldn’t she get off like that? But she didn’t keep rocking against her. Instead she rolled onto her back in the center of the nest.
Suddenly free, Emily sat up and looked down at the feral telepath. She was covering her eyes and had bent her knees, lifting her feet off the floor. Emily stared at her for a long moment.
“Are you trying to submit to me?”
Emma peeked over her hands. She looked unhappy and unsure. Emily felt the light brush against her mind and sighed, picking up her irreparably tattered shirt, and then dropping it.
“You really want this?”
Emma rubbed her nose into her crotch.
“Hey! Don’t do that. I can’t stand it even when real dogs do that.”
Emma cowered and showed her teeth unconvincingly.
“Hey…” Emily reached out, and Emma pressed her cheek into her palm. Emily closed her eyes, not sure what she should do. But if Emma was going to look at her that pathetically…
Emily made a growling sound low in her throat. It was embarrassing, but Emma dropped right down onto her back and tucked up submissively again. Emily quickly shucked off her jeans. They were already crumpled from sleep, no use in folding them. She pushed Emma’s knees apart and slid in between them. There was little left of Emma’s clothes (probably something far more expensive than Emily would ever buy for herself) but she cleared the remains away. Emma tilted her head back, exposing her vulnerable throat. The skin was pale and unmarked. Emily dipped down and pressed her lips to it. Her hips pressed into Emma’s crotch, and Emma whimpered, hooking her legs around Emily’s back.
If Emma had been herself, she wouldn’t have even called it sex. It was rutting, plain and simple, and Emily was embarrassed of how hard she came when Emma arched up into her and let out a wordless cry, digging her fingernails into her back.
---
Emily awoke for the second time, confused and sticking to Emma’s bare skin.
<< Emily? >> Someone was attempting to speak to her telepathically. Emma mumbled and rolled over. It wasn’t her. << Emily? Are you all right? You never came out. >>
It was Jean. Emily hurriedly climbed into her pants and pulled on the remains of her shirt. She covered Emma with a bathrobe.
<< I’m fine, >> she thought back. << Emma recognized my scent. >>
Emma woke up and the robe slipped off of her when she sat up. Emily dropped to her knees and threaded Emma’s arms through the sleeves and tied it on. “You’re just a little too naked, darling.”
Emma cocked her head and then pressed the top of her head into Emily’s stomach. Emily stroked her hair. It was almost starting to be cute, if what it meant wasn’t so irreversible. She left the closet just as Jean was peeking around the door.
Emma snarled at her.
“Hey! Hey!” Emily pulled the feral into her leg, keeping a hand on her. Emma pushed against her with her shoulder, trying to keep her away from the strangers. “It’s okay.”
“She’s very protective of you,” said Scott, frowning through his red tinted glasses. He had been angry and disapproving from the start, and Hank had mentioned that he hadn’t wanted to call her. Emily always thought of him as a threat and felt herself bristle at his disparaging tone. She was responding like a feral. She needed to stay in control.
“You’re her mate.” Logan raised an eyebrow at the state of Emily’s shirt. “That’s what you were doing all night, wasn’t it? Mating?”
Emily closed the revealing tear in her shirt firmly. “She seemed more comfortable when she could smell my skin.”
Logan just grinned at her. “Hon, your skin’s not what I’m smelling right now.”
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
Word Count: 1344
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Prompt: 013. Doggie-Style
Apologies: A few months before Didi arrived, the X-Men fought the demon Belasco. Although they won, Emma was mentally incapacitated by the battle. No one could reach her. It was a long shot, but someone suggested calling Emily. That is the context for this fic.
Emma looked over her shoulder sharply at the intruder into her private nest in the back of the closet. She growled, and Emily froze, remembering the bloody marks on Remy’s arm.
“Hey, hey, it’s all right.”
Emma seemed unconvinced and she got to her knees, her shoulder blades raised as if she were bristling. The flush of fear that ran through Emily was nothing short of instinctual. Menaced by a predator, she was ready to run. But humans were stupid. She held out her fist like she would to a dog. Emma bared her teeth, but leaned forward to sniff it. She cocked her head curiously and didn’t bite. Emily opened her hand and crouched slowly. Emma crawled towards her and pressed her head into her stomach. Emily cupped the back of her head, threading her fingers through the dirty matted hair.
“Oh god, Emma. What happened to you?”
She felt a brush against her shields and lowered them, opening up to her, trying to project calm, that there was nothing to fear. She settled down into the nest and Emma curled into her lap. She nuzzled against her chest and seemed to be fighting with the shirt. Emily unbuttoned it, and Emma relaxed, pressing her cheek against bare skin, breathing in her scent.
Emma slept, finally feeling safe. Emily held the shattered woman and tried not to cry.
---
It must have been hours later when Emily awoke, having been lost in tangled nightmares about demons and wolves. Emma was looking at her, and she almost started at those piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dim closet. They seemed sharp and sentient.
“Emma-” she tried, but the woman pressed her face into Emily’s neck. The involuntary hope faded from her like a popped balloon. She could get near her, but she had no idea even how to try to save her. Emma was lost so deep in her mind, and this savage, feral ball of instincts had taken over in her place.
Something hot and wet brushed against her pulse point and she stiffened. Emma was lapping at her throat. She couldn’t want sex, could she?
Then she noticed her position. She was flat on her back, her knees up. Emma slipped one of her legs between them, and started grinding into her thigh.
She couldn’t do this. Emma was feral, with the mental competence of someone who had been badly roofied. There was no way she could consent.
The tongue had been replaced by teeth. Emma was biting and sucking on her shoulder, and Emily groaned, involuntarily lifting her hips to get some friction between her legs.
No, she shouldn’t.
“Hey, let me up, let me up.” She pushed at Emma’s shoulder and tried to wriggle out from under her. Emma looked up, curiosity written on her face, and lifted off slightly. Emily thought she had escaped and relaxed, trying to get to her feet.
In one smooth movement, Emma had flipped her over onto her stomach, and she was pinning her wrists to the floor. Her hips were pressing into Emily’s ass, and she ground them in a slow circle, something like a purr echoing from her chest.
Emily whimpered, but she wasn’t getting out of this. Her face was pushed against the wall and Emma was between her and the door. Suddenly she felt Emma’s nose rubbing into the back of her shirt. Then teeth sank into it and jerked. It tore slightly at the seams.
“Emma!”
But she was scrabbling at the shirt, and with a harsh rip it was off. Emily tried to sit up, but the moment her hands were up, Emma shoved her back down, so her face was pressed into the blankets of the nest. Holding her down, Emma bit at the waistband of her jeans and tried to pull them down. Unsuccessful, she rubbed her face along the seam that ran down her ass and between her legs, and whimpered.
It was pathetic, and Emily bit down on her lower lip, trying to keep herself from offering the woman whatever she wanted. Emma squirmed up her back again and rocked into her. She licked her back. Emily wondered what she was waiting for. If she really wanted to, couldn’t she get off like that? But she didn’t keep rocking against her. Instead she rolled onto her back in the center of the nest.
Suddenly free, Emily sat up and looked down at the feral telepath. She was covering her eyes and had bent her knees, lifting her feet off the floor. Emily stared at her for a long moment.
“Are you trying to submit to me?”
Emma peeked over her hands. She looked unhappy and unsure. Emily felt the light brush against her mind and sighed, picking up her irreparably tattered shirt, and then dropping it.
“You really want this?”
Emma rubbed her nose into her crotch.
“Hey! Don’t do that. I can’t stand it even when real dogs do that.”
Emma cowered and showed her teeth unconvincingly.
“Hey…” Emily reached out, and Emma pressed her cheek into her palm. Emily closed her eyes, not sure what she should do. But if Emma was going to look at her that pathetically…
Emily made a growling sound low in her throat. It was embarrassing, but Emma dropped right down onto her back and tucked up submissively again. Emily quickly shucked off her jeans. They were already crumpled from sleep, no use in folding them. She pushed Emma’s knees apart and slid in between them. There was little left of Emma’s clothes (probably something far more expensive than Emily would ever buy for herself) but she cleared the remains away. Emma tilted her head back, exposing her vulnerable throat. The skin was pale and unmarked. Emily dipped down and pressed her lips to it. Her hips pressed into Emma’s crotch, and Emma whimpered, hooking her legs around Emily’s back.
If Emma had been herself, she wouldn’t have even called it sex. It was rutting, plain and simple, and Emily was embarrassed of how hard she came when Emma arched up into her and let out a wordless cry, digging her fingernails into her back.
---
Emily awoke for the second time, confused and sticking to Emma’s bare skin.
<< Emily? >> Someone was attempting to speak to her telepathically. Emma mumbled and rolled over. It wasn’t her. << Emily? Are you all right? You never came out. >>
It was Jean. Emily hurriedly climbed into her pants and pulled on the remains of her shirt. She covered Emma with a bathrobe.
<< I’m fine, >> she thought back. << Emma recognized my scent. >>
Emma woke up and the robe slipped off of her when she sat up. Emily dropped to her knees and threaded Emma’s arms through the sleeves and tied it on. “You’re just a little too naked, darling.”
Emma cocked her head and then pressed the top of her head into Emily’s stomach. Emily stroked her hair. It was almost starting to be cute, if what it meant wasn’t so irreversible. She left the closet just as Jean was peeking around the door.
Emma snarled at her.
“Hey! Hey!” Emily pulled the feral into her leg, keeping a hand on her. Emma pushed against her with her shoulder, trying to keep her away from the strangers. “It’s okay.”
“She’s very protective of you,” said Scott, frowning through his red tinted glasses. He had been angry and disapproving from the start, and Hank had mentioned that he hadn’t wanted to call her. Emily always thought of him as a threat and felt herself bristle at his disparaging tone. She was responding like a feral. She needed to stay in control.
“You’re her mate.” Logan raised an eyebrow at the state of Emily’s shirt. “That’s what you were doing all night, wasn’t it? Mating?”
Emily closed the revealing tear in her shirt firmly. “She seemed more comfortable when she could smell my skin.”
Logan just grinned at her. “Hon, your skin’s not what I’m smelling right now.”