Hellfire Mark 2

Sep 25, 2009 20:27

Title: Hellfire Mark 2
Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R (Warning: Genderswap sex)

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Word Count: 2397

Prompt: 021. Choker
Apologies: Mildly psychotic.  I wrote most of this *ages* ago.  Remember 015. Dominatrix?  This is the inhibitor collar incident.  (I don't really like my writing on this bit.  It doesn't seem up to snuff.)  Didi is about 6 during this.

Emily had been seeing her around, this woman, tall and narrow, with dark hair and sharp eyes who looked unnervingly like Didi.  She saw her on the metro the first time, her long straight hair brushing the hips of her navy suit.  Her make-up was just a little dark for a normal businesswoman, and when she turned Emily could see the metal in her ears.

But it was the way she stood that distracted Emily into missing her stop.  It sent an icy shiver down her spine, like the feeling prey gets when it spots a predator.

It was Hellfire, pure and simple.

(Emma had stopped doing it all the time.  She only fell into the stance when she felt threatened or was around people she didn’t like.)

Emily saw her again when she stopped in at the Indian restaurant to pick up dinner.  (Didi had ordered chicken korma again.  She always ended up bringing the leftovers to work for lunch, and she could feel her arteries clang every time.  She had finally put an end to Jubilee’s tendency to regularly order paneer pakoras.  She and Didi might be able to subsist on a diet of cream sauce and deep fried cheese, but two meals of that and Emily’s immune system took a nosedive.)  She was sitting at a table by the door, a barely touched masala dosa in front of her, and she was close enough that Emily could see her eyes.

They were blue.  Emma’s eyes.

When she got home she dropped the sack of food on the table and headed into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.  Jubilee and Didi, sprawled on the living room rug with paints and glitter barely noticed her.  She took out her phone and hit Emma’s speed-dial.

It rang, but no one answered.

She checked her watch.  Maybe she was running some after school activity?  A mission?  Her thumb hovered over the #5.  Finally she hit it.

“…Hello?” came a tired sounding voice.  Emily glanced at her watch.  It was almost 6pm.

“Ro?  Did I wake you?”

“It’s no trouble.  I should have been getting up soon either way.”

“Where… are you?”

“Australia, in fact.”

“Oh.”  Emily expelled air.  “You won’t be able to tell me why Emma’s not answering her phone then.”

“I’m sorry.  Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing.  I just wanted to ask her about… about something.  Have you heard anything from the Hellfire club lately?”

She could picture Ororo’s surprise at the question.  “No, I believe they have been quiet as of late.”

Emily nodded, not focused enough to realize Ororo could not see her.  “Thanks.”

She could never forget the last encounter she had had with the Hellfire club.  Selene’s touch as she tried to steal her life away, Sebastian’s slimy suggestions, Emma coming apart as she remembered her initiation into the inner circle.  Their faded finery and desperate attempts to regain their former influence was pitiful, but their power was terrifying.

At three in the morning, when she couldn’t sleep, Emma still didn’t pick up her phone.

When she saw the woman again the next day, standing in line at the coffee shop near Quantico, she took a deep breath and walked up to her, tapping her on the shoulder.  She turned around and lowered her sunglasses to give Emily an all too familiar incredulously inquiring look.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Cordelia,” she said, with a sly grin.  “Cordelia Frost.  Doesn’t my sister talk about me?”


Emma still wasn’t picking up her phone.

“Do you believe me now?”  Cordelia sipped boredly on her coffee as if she hadn’t just informed Emily that her elder sister had been taken prisoner by the new Hellfire club.

“Why did they take her?”

Cordelia waved her hand vaguely.  “Shinobi wanted to deal with her.  He was worried she might be his mother because of their similar powers.  I told him he was full of shit because she would have been like eleven, and I knew her when she was eleven, but he wanted her on our side.  I think he forgot that she’s an X-man now, because when he found out she was feeding them information and disrupting some of his plans, he flipped out, and said that she had betrayed the trust of the inner circle.”  She rolled her eyes.

Emily wondered if there was something about youngest sisters that made them inherently less mature.

“Are the X-men trying to rescue her?”

Cordelia laughed.  “They don’t even know she’s missing.  She said she was going to visit you.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because the X-men are assholes.  And I heard about you.”  She cocked her head to the side.  “I wanted to see what kind of woman it would take to turn my big sister.”


“So you get to rescue her.”

“How am I supposed to…”

Cordelia waved away the issue.  “You’re a human, so they’ll underestimate you.  This will get you in.”  Cordelia produced a card: red and gold printing on black velvet paper.  “It's a ticket.”  She grinned.  “One ride on the formerly great and powerful Emma Frost.  Very hard to come by.  I’m the White Rook and I still had to blow Roberto for it.”

“They’re selling rides?”

Cordelia smiled like a shark.  “Tell me, who wouldn’t offer a thousand favors to hit that?  And who hasn’t she gotten on the bad side of?  Revenge is sweet, especially when your victim drops into your lap in restraints and wearing an inhibitor collar.”

Emily crossed her arms and gave the bratty younger sister a look of death.  “How do I get her out?”

Cordelia seemed pleased by her show of strength and produced a small capsule. “That’s where this comes in.”

“What is it?”

“There’s no way they could keep Emma there without an inhibitor.  When you crack this bud open it will produce a powerful electric pulse that will short out the collar.  You just need to keep it under your tongue or behind your teeth, like those cyanide capsules your CIA colleagues wear.”

Emily nodded and took it.  She had seen something of a similar design before.  “Why are you doing this?”

Cordelia blinked.  “Emma’s a bitch, but she seems to have given up being a bad person.  I’d like to do the same.”  She looked at Emily for a minute, almost smiling.  “And I like you.  I didn’t expect that.  I figured if Emma ever lost her self-respect enough to fall in love, it would be one of those pathetic angsty emo-boys that she could dominate without a second thought.  But you… you’re tough shit for a human.  I like that.”


She should have known something was wrong.  Emily had enough experience to know when Emma was planning something stupid.  The phone calls would decrease, and she would be quieter, sometimes a bit pathetic when Emily did make contact.  Other times she would be self-righteous and the thin line between bitch and asshole would slip.  And Emily was always just a little more irritable as well.  It felt hormonal, like PMS or getting sick, but there wasn’t usually such a simple rationale for it.

In the last few days before she accosted Cordelia, she had been inexplicably on edge.  Every unexpected noise or slight threat would fill her with panic.  When challenged, she felt drained and helpless.  And without any impetus, she had been mildly aroused.

But today the sick feeling of fear deep in her stomach was entirely her own.

The Hellfire club looked like any scummy nightclub or strip club in New York City.  Emily looked at the door and winced.  At least no one she knew would see her going in.  The new Hellfire club had really lost the pretensions of grandeur that had made its predecessor interesting.  She knocked, carefully guarding her thoughts with a hundred banal worries.  (Emma had taught her how to camouflage her thoughts from prying minds one hot afternoon on their first summer in Vermont.)

The man who opened the door bowed deeply.  He was dressed in an embroidered jacket, striped knickerbockers, and buckled shoes.  That was at least traditional.

“This club is members only,” he said blandly.

Emily scratched her ear.  “I believe,” she said dryly, “that the Lord Imperial has my name on his roles.”  Unfortunately this was true.  She had inherited her seat through her mother, and Emma had told her not to give it up.

The servant closed his eyes for a bare moment and then stepped back and bowed, allowing her entrance.  “Welcome, Miss Prentiss.  You have not visited this branch before.  May I offer you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”  Emily set her jaw.  This part was awkward to say (even more to imagine her mother saying).  “Do you have any companions available?”

Is there a particular companion you would like?”

“I was hoping to have Emma,” she said flatly.

“Oh!”  The man looked worried.  “Please wait here.”

The man who came in next was even more fancily dressed in silks and lace.  He looked at her with a suspicious interest.  Emily tightened her shields.

“So you are here for our darling Emma.”


“What right do you have to take such an elite companion?”

Emily took out the card that Cordelia had given her.  The man looked at it and smiled.  “How intriguing.”


Emma hung from the cuffs, naked, drugged and damaged, the inhibitor collar tight as a choker around her neck.  It was awful to see her like this, but at least she was there, at least she was alive.  Emily stood at the window in the anteroom and wished she had a real plan, wished she had her gun so she could destroy everyone who had done this to her.

She didn’t notice the young man entering until he touched her arm.  Her body changed.  Emily stared at her naked form.

“Wha- What?”  She turned to the man.  He smiled, bowed, and left.

The door to the pleasure room opened, spilling pink, rose-scented fog into the changing room.  Emily didn’t know what to do.  She hadn’t expected this, but she had heard about it.  The circuit breaker was still under her tongue.  Better stick to the plan.

Emma blinked at her as she stepped through the clouds to where she hung in a four-point bind.


“I need to get you out of here.”

Emma just smiled, a bit sloppily, like someone concussed.  “God, you’re fucking hot.”

“Like this?” Emily looked down at her strange body, wondering what made a man’s body attractive.

“You’re always hot.  Fuck me.  God, please fuck me.”

“Emma?”  Emily had thought she’d be eager to escape.

Emma thrashed as best she could, bound as she was.  “You don’t understand.  This room is pumped full of Aphrodesiacs.  I’ve been here for days.  I need sex.  I want your fucking cock in me!”

“Oh god.”  Emily’s body had already started to react.  And it ached.

“Come here, please…”

Emily stepped between her legs and leaned in to kiss her.  Then she kissed a little lower, placing the bug against the inhibitor collar.  There was a little pop and suddenly she could feel Emma, inside her mind.  She had not overstated the desperate arousal, and almost without thinking, Emily slid inside of her.

The deep wet heat closed around her cock, and Emily stiffened.  “Holy…”

Emma rocked against her.  “Fuck me, now.”

Emily drew out and almost groaned with the excess of sensation, hot wet walls pressing into sensitive flesh. It was too much, but it wasn’t enough at the same time, and she couldn’t stop.  She couldn’t even think of stopping.  Nothing felt like this.  Emma’s back arched, and she made sounds Emily was intimately familiar with.  “Oh, fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!”

She came, thighs gripping Emily’s hips like she was riding a horse, to counter the swing of the harness.  Emily just clung to her shoulders as she came in response, releasing everything that had been building up in side of her.  She sobbed weakly against Emma’s chest.  Inside her head she felt the same way as if Emma was stroking her hair.

The boy came in and bowed, offering Emily her clothes and a washcloth.  He touched her and her body changed back.  She glanced over her shoulder to where Emma hung, dripping with her cum.

Emma grinned lazily at her.  “You’re still so fucking hot.”

The boy unlocked her bonds and helped her down.  Emily could see that odd glazed look in his eyes that meant his actions were not performed by his own will.  Emma pulled on a tight dress, white as expected, stepped into low boots and offered Emily her arm.  “Now we walk out.”

They stepped of the door and were about forty yards down the street when the building blew up.  Then they ran until they collapsed on the grass in central park.

The collar had left red marks on Emma’s neck, and Emily’s fingers drifted over them.

“I can’t believe you saved me from there,” Emma said, and reaching out to brush a lock of hair out of Emily’s face.

Emily wondered if she would ever tell her what had happened that had got her into that predicament.  Would she open up about that hollowness Emily had felt inside her, or just push it town and smile to cover it up?  Her touch was teasing, the pad of her thumb running over still swollen lips, and Emily flushed, ducking her head to take her gaze away.  “I can’t believe I fucked you like that.”

Emma grinned.  “No problem.  For your first time, your cocksmanship was very impressive.”

“Oh God.”

Emma cupped her cheek.  “No shame,” she whispered.  “You can’t survive the Hellfire Club if you are filled with shame.”  She dipped her head and kissed her, gently and as sweetly as possible.

*            *            *

Emma threw up again.  She staggered down to the med lab.

“You look awful!” exclaimed Hank.

Emma covered her eyes, pressing her thumb and forefinger into her temple.  “No, shit, Sherlock,” she muttered to herself.  “I’m sick.”

It took Hank a half an hour to figure it out.  In retrospect it was the first thing he should have checked.

“Emma… you’re pregnant.”
“What!”  She stared at him in disbelief.  “But I haven’t slept with a man since… oh.  Oh shit.”  

criminal minds, x-men, citrus taste, emma/emily

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