Chelsea Hotel No. 2
Title: Chelsea Hotel No. 2
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss, anti Emily/JJ, JJ/unidentified MC
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 3563
Prompt: 046. Lap Dance and 037. Grinding
Apologies: Actual lap dance in this one! Still uncomfortable with this. I'm having one of those I hate everything I'm writing weeks again, but was throwing up day before yesterday, so it could be due to an immune system issue.
Part 1
“I’m not a whore, you know,” said Emma as she unlocked the door. “I strip for the money, not because of any kinky exhibitionist tendencies, and I tease patrons with the possibility of blow jobs, but I don’t give them, and I’m not just saying that because you’re a cop.”
“That isn’t why I came,” Emily said, awkwardly. “It’s because you had me pegged so easily… as something I had never even considered… I just wanted to talk to you.”
Emma raised an eyebrow incredulously, but smiled, as if she were pleased. “I don’t have a chair, so feel free to lie down on the bed if you prefer the Freudian position.” She sat in a chair by the beat up old school desk and picked up a notebook and pen.
Emily sat nervously on the edge of the bed.
“So, tell me about your mother.”
Emily stared. “My mother? What does she have to do with…” then she frowned. “God. I didn’t think they taught pure Freudian psychoanalysis anymore.”
Emma laughed. “They don’t. But avoiding the question seems rather suspicious to me.”
Emily shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her in eighteen months. She disinherited me when I told her that I was becoming a cop, whether she liked it or not.”
“She didn’t want you to enter law enforcement?”
“I don’t know what her problem is! It’s not like she isn’t in government service. It’s a class thing. She’s always been a stuck up prig-“ Emily winced, knowing it was a lie as she said it. Emma stared at her, a blank expression on her face.
“Is that her problem with it? Or is it yours?”
“Mine? I am a cop. I don’t have a problem with it. My mother said she thought it wouldn’t be intellectually satisfying, but she was wrong. It was just her trying to manipulate me into not doing it anyway.”
“You’re not a detective, right? Is giving parking tickets intellectually satisfying?”
Emily stuck her lip out. “I don’t give parking tickets. I’m not in traffic.” Emma just arched an eyebrow inquiringly. “It’s not terrible. The work can be very interesting, and if I make detective soon… It’s just the environment isn’t that satisfying. But everyone has that problem, right? Once you leave college there’s no one whom you can just strike up a conversation with about… Foucault, or Kurt Vonnegut, or… I don’t know, the flaws of the Soviet System.”
Emma snorted. “I’m pretty certain if I had tried that even in college I would have been tortured.” She looked sly. “But really, Vonnegut? Overrated.”
“What! How could you- I mean - I…”
Emma put up her hand. “I’m not saying his views aren’t well founded, but his writing doesn’t always reach the same standard. A few of his short stories are excellent, but his novels… Let’s just say they lack some of the qualities of a ‘vivid and continuous dream.’”
Emily’s jaw dropped. “Not a vivid and continuous d-“ she narrowed her eyes. “Wait. You’re complaining about the way it can sometimes feel disjointed, right? But that’s a technique. It’s like Goddard. You spin the camera to disorient the viewer, don’t show the scene so that he has to imagine it himself, which takes him out of his comfort zone.”
Emma set down her notebook. “You can’t compare film and literature that way. You are right that Goddard makes films Vonnegut could have written and vice versa, but Goddard is working with the whole concept of moviemaking, which is about eradicating thought. That’s why he breaks the frame, to violate the assumption of truth. But literature has never been about eradicating thought. Satire, psychological novels, social commentary are all inherent parts of literature, and they can be artistically refined. Vonnegut is better than many modernists, who not only have no story, but also have no opinions, but there’s no need for it to be disjointed to allow the reader to have a coherent thought.”
“Oh no,” Emily interjected. “You have just undermined your own argument. If literature is supposed to be a vivid and continuous dream, then it is just as valuable as with film to be woken up from it.”
“But it has to put you to sleep first! And if the writing isn’t good enough for that-“
“Isn’t good enough!” Emily jumped up, then she realized what she had done, flushed, and looked away, dropping back down onto the bed. “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.”
Emma grinned. “It’s pretty obvious.”
“Shut up.”
“No.” Emma stood and moved over to where she sat. “I really do think I have an idea.” She flashed her half a smile. Emily flushed.
Emma knelt on the bed, straddling her, and cupped her face. “Why don’t you take what you want for once?”
“Take it?” Emily tilted her head, lifting her chin. “Even if it’s wrong?”
“How do you know whether things are wrong or right until you try them and see?”
Their lips met gently and a shiver made Emily’s back shudder. Her fingers dug into Emma’s shirt and clung. Emma’s hand slipped up her side and cupped her breast. Emily gasped.
“N-no. I don’t think I can do this.”
Emma sat back and glared at her. “Are you that afraid of getting something you actually might want?”
“That I do want,” Emily said softly, looking directly at her. “But you said you weren’t a whore, and I don’t want to make you ashamed when I pay you for this session.”
Emma pressed her hand to her forehead. “You are a bit chivalrous, aren’t you?”
“Not enough to not want to cheat on my girlfriend.”
“I think, technically, the laws of chivalry encouraged vaguely adulterous attachments.”
“Are you going to give me your favor?” Emily inquired playfully.
Emma laughed and moved back to her chair. “Maybe, if you’re lucky.” She shook her head. “Anyways, it’s not like your girlfriend isn’t already a cheating whore.”
Emily’s face stilled. “That’s not professional.”
“You didn’t complain about that when I was in your lap.”
“I don’t want you to insult JJ. I know what she did was unforgivable, but I need to find out how much I’m to blame for her doing it.”
Emma shook her head, running her fingers down the side of the notebook. “If we’re going to do this, you have to be willing to believe that you may be less guilty than you think you are, as well as more, or it isn’t worth it.”
Emily ducked her head. “I feel guiltier and guiltier the more time I spend with you.”
* * *
Emma opened the door on the second knock. Emily stood in front of her, an ashamed expression on her face. “In the mood for self-flagellation?”
Emily flushed and then shook her head. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d come with me to see The White Ribbon. No one I know wants to see it, and I’m too afraid to go alone.”
“You buying?”
Emily smiled and gave a shrug. “If you get me coffee afterwards.”
Emma blinked. Those six words completely turned this whole thing on its head. She nodded slowly. “Sounds good.”
It was a horrifying movie, but one that they sat for three hours in a Starbucks debating afterwards. Emily walked her home.
“If this were a date, I would probably let you kiss me,” Emma said with a grin.
“Only probably?”
“All other elements the same?” Emma tilted her head and Emily pushed herself up on her toes and kissed her. It started out chaste, but Emily’s hands settled on her waist and it quickly grew warm and wet.
“Do you want to come in?”
“I- I had better not.” Emily looked panicky and quickly left.
* * *
“I didn’t expect to see you here again.” Emma settled, mostly naked, onto the stool beside Emily, and took a sip of her drink.
Emily cringed. “The guys wanted to come and I couldn’t figure out a polite way of saying no.”
“Politeness is one of your issues, isn’t it?” Emily mock glared at her. “Want to buy a lap dance?”
“How much? I didn’t pay for the last one, if you recall.”
Emma glanced around. “It’s pretty slow. Call it forty bucks and I’ll give you a couple of minutes. A special, since you’re a regular.”
“I wouldn’t call me a regular,” whined Emily, following her into the private room.
Emma pushed her into the chair and unsnapped her bra, before swinging a leg over her and grinding into her lap. Emily gasped, head tipping back and fingers clenching the rim of the seat. It hadn’t felt like this before. She had been too tense, too self-conscious to notice the way skin slid against fabric, the way the heat traveled into her. Emma moved easily over her, and it was everything she could do to breathe.
“Now that is what I like to see.”
“What?” Emily managed to squeak out.
Emma cupped her cheek. “Your eyes are dilating,” she whispered, teasingly. “Skin, hot to the touch.” Her fingers traced down her throat, hovering at her pulse point. “Increased heart rate.” Her ass ground a circle into Emily’s hips, pressing just right to pull against the crotch of Emily’s jeans. She traced a finger across Emily’s lower lip and when they parted, nearly begging, she slid a finger in and rubbed it across her tongue. “Increased saliva content.” Emily gasped weakly. Emma leaned forward, her hair tickling Emily’s face. “I’m afraid you’re attracted to me.”
As if that wasn’t blatantly obvious, thought Emily, unable to move, unable to tear her eyes away. She was right there, breasts bare and swinging. She so desperately wanted to slide her hands up the curve of her back, tangle her fingers in her hair, and kiss her and fuck her until she was sweaty and dripping and bruised, and…
“Emma! Someone’s asking for you!” Another blonde girl peeked in. “Oh, you have a customer.”
Emma laughed and slid off of Emily’s lap. “A charity case.”
Emily was too overwhelmed to protest.
* * *
When Emma got home at four in the morning, Emily was waiting, sitting, on the steps, arms wrapped around herself, half frozen.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Emily just looked at her, with huge sad eyes. “I went home, so fucking horny, had a screaming match with JJ, pretended to go to bed and snuck out. I couldn’t…” She stood up, looking desperately unhappy. “I need more than this. I need more than this life that I hate, but have dammed myself to. I need more, but all I have is you. And I can’t even tell if you want me.”
Emma stepped into her, caressing her face. “I wish I didn’t know exactly what you meant.”
And Emily pushed her into the door, and was kissing her, deeply, painfully. She was grinding up against her, her hands cupped Emma’s ass and lifted her up, parting her legs, and pushing her hips into Emma’s crotch.
She was moving so desperately, kissing her like she needed her, and Emma took pity on her. She bit down on her lower lip, and slid her knee in between Emily’s legs. She hooked her other leg around her waist, pulling her closer. Emily led out something between a gasp and a whimper, and pressed her open mouth against Emma’s, not even pretending it to be a kiss.
Emma twisted her fingers into her hair, as if it were reins, and kept a hold of her as Emily came, grinding against her leg, and gasped wetly into her neck.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered weakly.
“Don’t worry about it.” Emma released her tight grip and stroked her hair. “Now that you’ve taken the edge off, any reason you can’t come inside?”
Before she had even shut the door properly behind them, Emily had her shirt off and was kissing sloppily up the back of her neck. And then she was naked, and Emily’s mouth and teeth were all over her, leaving sharp nips in the curve of her breasts and running the flat of her tongue in smooth lines over her stomach. Emily’s fingers were inside of her, and she was alternately biting and kissing her neck, and whispering dirty things in her low teasing tone, and then curling right into her, and biting down hard right as she came with a scream that was half pleasure and half shock.
It was easy to be there, feeling Emily’s broad grin against her skin, knowing that her eyes were lit up with amusement and success. It was easy to flip her over and strip her down and give her a taste of her own medicine. And it was easy to lie with her, naked and sweaty and sated and never even think of pulling away, and to pretend that this was enough, that her furious drive to leave this place behind, to prove that she was better than this, and smarter than this, and free, that she didn’t have to rely on anyone, was just not that important when she had someone who knew her and kept her from feeling alone.
Luckily it was all revealed as bullshit in the morning when Emily freaked out about getting caught cheating, and Emma wanted to hit her with a two-by-four for being such an idiot. Emily was part of the life she was leaving behind. Her family, her stripping, her being someone’s girl on the side were all aspects of her life that she was going to forget. And as soon as she had her degree, she was gone.
* * *
It didn’t stop her, though from taking what was offered. She had managed to live two lives and keep them completely separate for a long time. Emily was trouble because she blurred the two, but it was also a relief, to be with someone she didn’t have to lie to. It was just odd because Emily was odd. She was very intent on keeping things separate. When she needed a therapist, she always paid and she never let Emma kiss her. When she needed sex, it was sex, and nothing else. And then there were the odd in between moments, where it was almost a date, and sometimes Emily would kiss her, and look at her as if she had been punched in the stomach for no good reason at all.
It was beginning to be clear that Emily weighed emotional cheating much higher than physical cheating. That solved a few puzzles that Emma had been considering.
“Does she tell you that she loves you often?”
Emily looked confused. “Who? My mother?”
Emma laughed. “No, your girlfriend, but if you want to tell me about your mother too, that’s always helpful.”
Emily laughed as well, and then considered the question. “Yes, pretty often.”
“Do you think it’s an easy thing for her to say?”
Emily frowned. “Compared to whom.”
“Compared to your mother, for example.”
Emily snorted. “Definitely.
“Does it mean the same thing when they say it?”
Emily stared at the ceiling. “To me or to them?”
“Do both.”
“It’s always… important to me. And with my mother it seems like it never really means the same thing twice. The last time… it meant ‘you are a disappointment, but I will never stop waiting for you to fix yourself.’”
“How supportive.”
“I know.” Emily closed her eyes for a moment. “But when JJ says it, she says it like its normal. Like it’s something everyday, and something I should feel all the time. And I like that. That’s what I want. I want someone to feel like that about me all the time, not just when I’m a disappointment.”
“But you want it to be true.”
“Yeah,” Emily said weakly. “Of course I want it to be true.”
* * *
It was an accident, to run into her at the library. Emily needed books, rather desperately, and was already checking out when she noticed the study group at the table. She noticed the blonde girl, with the gold rimmed glasses, who was leaning over, pointing at the book and talking, and who was so unutterably fucking gorgeous, that Emily could hardly tear her eyes away.
And it was so clear, so blatantly obvious, that this girl was going to make it, that she was going to do something, and sail out of here the moment the wind gusted just right, and leave her all alone.
* * *
“I hate it, because I have to admit that I want what my mom wants for me. I want to make a difference. I want my life to be worth something. But I have to be giving all I can. I know I’m better than this, that I have more talent than I can use here. And if I’m saddled with a kid I can’t take chances. I can’t change my life the way it needs to be changed, and it needs to be changed.”
Emma smiled. “That sounds like a break through to me.”
“I really don’t have any responsibility for JJ and her child, do I? Even if I wasn’t enough for her, wasn’t really attracted to her, she could have left me, she could have talked to me. She didn’t have to cheat.” Emily looked away. “But neither did I. Neither of us were brave enough to be honest. It's a little late, but I’m going to do it. I don’t… I don’t really have a choice.”
* * *
Emily was almost too high from that delicious afternoon to notice the pile of letters on the counter. She desperately needed a shower before JJ caught her stinking of sex and a stripper’s perfume, but she distractedly leafed through the mail anyway, too sated and comfortable to worry.
She saw the postmark and her chest tightened with excitement just as her stomach sank with fear. She was so high that she had forgotten why she wanted this at all. She held it tight, it was too much to believe right now.
“Oh, my god.”
Emily stiffened. JJ was behind her, staring, with a disgusted look on her face. She couldn’t have seen it, could she?
“What is that on your neck?”
Emily’s hand slapped over the vivid mark.
JJ’s eyes widened. “Are you… are you seeing someone else? Having an affair?” Emily watched her for a long while. The horror faded and was replaced by anger. “You’re- you’re not allowed to-”
“Oh don’t you dare tell me what I’m allowed to do. Yes, I’m seeing someone else, and it isn’t any of your business.”
“It’s not?”
“I’m not fucking you, am I? I’m not ever going to be able to fuck you again. So deal with the fact that I am sleeping with a stripper, and I…” She stared at the letter again. “And I can’t get enough of her.” She looked back at JJ. “I’m not renewing the lease at the end of the month, so… find somewhere else to go by then, alright?”
JJ stared at her, truly lost. “You can’t do this to me.”
“I have to. Maybe its selfish, but I have to get out of here, or I’ll die. I have to go.” Her fingers pressed against the tender area on her neck. Even, she thought, if suddenly, for the first time since you told me what you’d done, I though it might be worth it to stay.
But she would lose it anyways; she knew that. This was her chance and she would be a fool to pass it up.
* * *
“I’m leaving her,” Emily said, lying back on Emma’s bed. “I told her about you.”
Emma shot her a look. “You aren’t leaving her for me, are you? Because Freud had ways of dealing with that, but you’re my first client.”
Emily stared at the ceiling. “No. I’m going to Washington DC. I was accepted into the FBI training course.”
“I’m impressed. And glad. I can’t be your whore anymore, I’m afraid. I’m graduating this spring and have a job offer.” She didn’t say where. It was time to cut off this part of her life.
“Congratulations.” Emily sat up. “You were never my whore.” She smiled awkwardly. “You were always a bit out of my league.”
Emma gave her an odd look and a smile. “Thank you.”
“I should go,” she said, starting to rise off the bed.
Emma stopped her, then climbed easily into her lap and pinned her to the bed. “Oh not yet. You’re going to fuck me again, for old time’s sake.”
* * *
Three years later Emily and Morgan strode into the psychologist’s office for a consultation on a particularly gruesome serial rapist who was predating the north of Florida.
“Doctor Frost?” A woman, hair bound up into a twist, and a tailored beautiful suit looked up, saw them and Emily dropped her notebook.
“Hello.” The woman evaluated her appraisingly. “Agent Prentiss.”
Emily turned bright red.
A broad grin spread over Emma’s face as her eyes flicked over her old lover. Emily couldn’t help but duck her head and smile back.
Morgan glanced back and forth between them, his eyes widening. “Should I leave the two of you alone?”
FIN
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss, anti Emily/JJ, JJ/unidentified MC
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 3563
Prompt: 046. Lap Dance and 037. Grinding
Apologies: Actual lap dance in this one! Still uncomfortable with this. I'm having one of those I hate everything I'm writing weeks again, but was throwing up day before yesterday, so it could be due to an immune system issue.
Part 1
“I’m not a whore, you know,” said Emma as she unlocked the door. “I strip for the money, not because of any kinky exhibitionist tendencies, and I tease patrons with the possibility of blow jobs, but I don’t give them, and I’m not just saying that because you’re a cop.”
“That isn’t why I came,” Emily said, awkwardly. “It’s because you had me pegged so easily… as something I had never even considered… I just wanted to talk to you.”
Emma raised an eyebrow incredulously, but smiled, as if she were pleased. “I don’t have a chair, so feel free to lie down on the bed if you prefer the Freudian position.” She sat in a chair by the beat up old school desk and picked up a notebook and pen.
Emily sat nervously on the edge of the bed.
“So, tell me about your mother.”
Emily stared. “My mother? What does she have to do with…” then she frowned. “God. I didn’t think they taught pure Freudian psychoanalysis anymore.”
Emma laughed. “They don’t. But avoiding the question seems rather suspicious to me.”
Emily shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her in eighteen months. She disinherited me when I told her that I was becoming a cop, whether she liked it or not.”
“She didn’t want you to enter law enforcement?”
“I don’t know what her problem is! It’s not like she isn’t in government service. It’s a class thing. She’s always been a stuck up prig-“ Emily winced, knowing it was a lie as she said it. Emma stared at her, a blank expression on her face.
“Is that her problem with it? Or is it yours?”
“Mine? I am a cop. I don’t have a problem with it. My mother said she thought it wouldn’t be intellectually satisfying, but she was wrong. It was just her trying to manipulate me into not doing it anyway.”
“You’re not a detective, right? Is giving parking tickets intellectually satisfying?”
Emily stuck her lip out. “I don’t give parking tickets. I’m not in traffic.” Emma just arched an eyebrow inquiringly. “It’s not terrible. The work can be very interesting, and if I make detective soon… It’s just the environment isn’t that satisfying. But everyone has that problem, right? Once you leave college there’s no one whom you can just strike up a conversation with about… Foucault, or Kurt Vonnegut, or… I don’t know, the flaws of the Soviet System.”
Emma snorted. “I’m pretty certain if I had tried that even in college I would have been tortured.” She looked sly. “But really, Vonnegut? Overrated.”
“What! How could you- I mean - I…”
Emma put up her hand. “I’m not saying his views aren’t well founded, but his writing doesn’t always reach the same standard. A few of his short stories are excellent, but his novels… Let’s just say they lack some of the qualities of a ‘vivid and continuous dream.’”
Emily’s jaw dropped. “Not a vivid and continuous d-“ she narrowed her eyes. “Wait. You’re complaining about the way it can sometimes feel disjointed, right? But that’s a technique. It’s like Goddard. You spin the camera to disorient the viewer, don’t show the scene so that he has to imagine it himself, which takes him out of his comfort zone.”
Emma set down her notebook. “You can’t compare film and literature that way. You are right that Goddard makes films Vonnegut could have written and vice versa, but Goddard is working with the whole concept of moviemaking, which is about eradicating thought. That’s why he breaks the frame, to violate the assumption of truth. But literature has never been about eradicating thought. Satire, psychological novels, social commentary are all inherent parts of literature, and they can be artistically refined. Vonnegut is better than many modernists, who not only have no story, but also have no opinions, but there’s no need for it to be disjointed to allow the reader to have a coherent thought.”
“Oh no,” Emily interjected. “You have just undermined your own argument. If literature is supposed to be a vivid and continuous dream, then it is just as valuable as with film to be woken up from it.”
“But it has to put you to sleep first! And if the writing isn’t good enough for that-“
“Isn’t good enough!” Emily jumped up, then she realized what she had done, flushed, and looked away, dropping back down onto the bed. “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now.”
Emma grinned. “It’s pretty obvious.”
“Shut up.”
“No.” Emma stood and moved over to where she sat. “I really do think I have an idea.” She flashed her half a smile. Emily flushed.
Emma knelt on the bed, straddling her, and cupped her face. “Why don’t you take what you want for once?”
“Take it?” Emily tilted her head, lifting her chin. “Even if it’s wrong?”
“How do you know whether things are wrong or right until you try them and see?”
Their lips met gently and a shiver made Emily’s back shudder. Her fingers dug into Emma’s shirt and clung. Emma’s hand slipped up her side and cupped her breast. Emily gasped.
“N-no. I don’t think I can do this.”
Emma sat back and glared at her. “Are you that afraid of getting something you actually might want?”
“That I do want,” Emily said softly, looking directly at her. “But you said you weren’t a whore, and I don’t want to make you ashamed when I pay you for this session.”
Emma pressed her hand to her forehead. “You are a bit chivalrous, aren’t you?”
“Not enough to not want to cheat on my girlfriend.”
“I think, technically, the laws of chivalry encouraged vaguely adulterous attachments.”
“Are you going to give me your favor?” Emily inquired playfully.
Emma laughed and moved back to her chair. “Maybe, if you’re lucky.” She shook her head. “Anyways, it’s not like your girlfriend isn’t already a cheating whore.”
Emily’s face stilled. “That’s not professional.”
“You didn’t complain about that when I was in your lap.”
“I don’t want you to insult JJ. I know what she did was unforgivable, but I need to find out how much I’m to blame for her doing it.”
Emma shook her head, running her fingers down the side of the notebook. “If we’re going to do this, you have to be willing to believe that you may be less guilty than you think you are, as well as more, or it isn’t worth it.”
Emily ducked her head. “I feel guiltier and guiltier the more time I spend with you.”
* * *
Emma opened the door on the second knock. Emily stood in front of her, an ashamed expression on her face. “In the mood for self-flagellation?”
Emily flushed and then shook her head. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d come with me to see The White Ribbon. No one I know wants to see it, and I’m too afraid to go alone.”
“You buying?”
Emily smiled and gave a shrug. “If you get me coffee afterwards.”
Emma blinked. Those six words completely turned this whole thing on its head. She nodded slowly. “Sounds good.”
It was a horrifying movie, but one that they sat for three hours in a Starbucks debating afterwards. Emily walked her home.
“If this were a date, I would probably let you kiss me,” Emma said with a grin.
“Only probably?”
“All other elements the same?” Emma tilted her head and Emily pushed herself up on her toes and kissed her. It started out chaste, but Emily’s hands settled on her waist and it quickly grew warm and wet.
“Do you want to come in?”
“I- I had better not.” Emily looked panicky and quickly left.
* * *
“I didn’t expect to see you here again.” Emma settled, mostly naked, onto the stool beside Emily, and took a sip of her drink.
Emily cringed. “The guys wanted to come and I couldn’t figure out a polite way of saying no.”
“Politeness is one of your issues, isn’t it?” Emily mock glared at her. “Want to buy a lap dance?”
“How much? I didn’t pay for the last one, if you recall.”
Emma glanced around. “It’s pretty slow. Call it forty bucks and I’ll give you a couple of minutes. A special, since you’re a regular.”
“I wouldn’t call me a regular,” whined Emily, following her into the private room.
Emma pushed her into the chair and unsnapped her bra, before swinging a leg over her and grinding into her lap. Emily gasped, head tipping back and fingers clenching the rim of the seat. It hadn’t felt like this before. She had been too tense, too self-conscious to notice the way skin slid against fabric, the way the heat traveled into her. Emma moved easily over her, and it was everything she could do to breathe.
“Now that is what I like to see.”
“What?” Emily managed to squeak out.
Emma cupped her cheek. “Your eyes are dilating,” she whispered, teasingly. “Skin, hot to the touch.” Her fingers traced down her throat, hovering at her pulse point. “Increased heart rate.” Her ass ground a circle into Emily’s hips, pressing just right to pull against the crotch of Emily’s jeans. She traced a finger across Emily’s lower lip and when they parted, nearly begging, she slid a finger in and rubbed it across her tongue. “Increased saliva content.” Emily gasped weakly. Emma leaned forward, her hair tickling Emily’s face. “I’m afraid you’re attracted to me.”
As if that wasn’t blatantly obvious, thought Emily, unable to move, unable to tear her eyes away. She was right there, breasts bare and swinging. She so desperately wanted to slide her hands up the curve of her back, tangle her fingers in her hair, and kiss her and fuck her until she was sweaty and dripping and bruised, and…
“Emma! Someone’s asking for you!” Another blonde girl peeked in. “Oh, you have a customer.”
Emma laughed and slid off of Emily’s lap. “A charity case.”
Emily was too overwhelmed to protest.
* * *
When Emma got home at four in the morning, Emily was waiting, sitting, on the steps, arms wrapped around herself, half frozen.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Emily just looked at her, with huge sad eyes. “I went home, so fucking horny, had a screaming match with JJ, pretended to go to bed and snuck out. I couldn’t…” She stood up, looking desperately unhappy. “I need more than this. I need more than this life that I hate, but have dammed myself to. I need more, but all I have is you. And I can’t even tell if you want me.”
Emma stepped into her, caressing her face. “I wish I didn’t know exactly what you meant.”
And Emily pushed her into the door, and was kissing her, deeply, painfully. She was grinding up against her, her hands cupped Emma’s ass and lifted her up, parting her legs, and pushing her hips into Emma’s crotch.
She was moving so desperately, kissing her like she needed her, and Emma took pity on her. She bit down on her lower lip, and slid her knee in between Emily’s legs. She hooked her other leg around her waist, pulling her closer. Emily led out something between a gasp and a whimper, and pressed her open mouth against Emma’s, not even pretending it to be a kiss.
Emma twisted her fingers into her hair, as if it were reins, and kept a hold of her as Emily came, grinding against her leg, and gasped wetly into her neck.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered weakly.
“Don’t worry about it.” Emma released her tight grip and stroked her hair. “Now that you’ve taken the edge off, any reason you can’t come inside?”
Before she had even shut the door properly behind them, Emily had her shirt off and was kissing sloppily up the back of her neck. And then she was naked, and Emily’s mouth and teeth were all over her, leaving sharp nips in the curve of her breasts and running the flat of her tongue in smooth lines over her stomach. Emily’s fingers were inside of her, and she was alternately biting and kissing her neck, and whispering dirty things in her low teasing tone, and then curling right into her, and biting down hard right as she came with a scream that was half pleasure and half shock.
It was easy to be there, feeling Emily’s broad grin against her skin, knowing that her eyes were lit up with amusement and success. It was easy to flip her over and strip her down and give her a taste of her own medicine. And it was easy to lie with her, naked and sweaty and sated and never even think of pulling away, and to pretend that this was enough, that her furious drive to leave this place behind, to prove that she was better than this, and smarter than this, and free, that she didn’t have to rely on anyone, was just not that important when she had someone who knew her and kept her from feeling alone.
Luckily it was all revealed as bullshit in the morning when Emily freaked out about getting caught cheating, and Emma wanted to hit her with a two-by-four for being such an idiot. Emily was part of the life she was leaving behind. Her family, her stripping, her being someone’s girl on the side were all aspects of her life that she was going to forget. And as soon as she had her degree, she was gone.
* * *
It didn’t stop her, though from taking what was offered. She had managed to live two lives and keep them completely separate for a long time. Emily was trouble because she blurred the two, but it was also a relief, to be with someone she didn’t have to lie to. It was just odd because Emily was odd. She was very intent on keeping things separate. When she needed a therapist, she always paid and she never let Emma kiss her. When she needed sex, it was sex, and nothing else. And then there were the odd in between moments, where it was almost a date, and sometimes Emily would kiss her, and look at her as if she had been punched in the stomach for no good reason at all.
It was beginning to be clear that Emily weighed emotional cheating much higher than physical cheating. That solved a few puzzles that Emma had been considering.
“Does she tell you that she loves you often?”
Emily looked confused. “Who? My mother?”
Emma laughed. “No, your girlfriend, but if you want to tell me about your mother too, that’s always helpful.”
Emily laughed as well, and then considered the question. “Yes, pretty often.”
“Do you think it’s an easy thing for her to say?”
Emily frowned. “Compared to whom.”
“Compared to your mother, for example.”
Emily snorted. “Definitely.
“Does it mean the same thing when they say it?”
Emily stared at the ceiling. “To me or to them?”
“Do both.”
“It’s always… important to me. And with my mother it seems like it never really means the same thing twice. The last time… it meant ‘you are a disappointment, but I will never stop waiting for you to fix yourself.’”
“How supportive.”
“I know.” Emily closed her eyes for a moment. “But when JJ says it, she says it like its normal. Like it’s something everyday, and something I should feel all the time. And I like that. That’s what I want. I want someone to feel like that about me all the time, not just when I’m a disappointment.”
“But you want it to be true.”
“Yeah,” Emily said weakly. “Of course I want it to be true.”
* * *
It was an accident, to run into her at the library. Emily needed books, rather desperately, and was already checking out when she noticed the study group at the table. She noticed the blonde girl, with the gold rimmed glasses, who was leaning over, pointing at the book and talking, and who was so unutterably fucking gorgeous, that Emily could hardly tear her eyes away.
And it was so clear, so blatantly obvious, that this girl was going to make it, that she was going to do something, and sail out of here the moment the wind gusted just right, and leave her all alone.
* * *
“I hate it, because I have to admit that I want what my mom wants for me. I want to make a difference. I want my life to be worth something. But I have to be giving all I can. I know I’m better than this, that I have more talent than I can use here. And if I’m saddled with a kid I can’t take chances. I can’t change my life the way it needs to be changed, and it needs to be changed.”
Emma smiled. “That sounds like a break through to me.”
“I really don’t have any responsibility for JJ and her child, do I? Even if I wasn’t enough for her, wasn’t really attracted to her, she could have left me, she could have talked to me. She didn’t have to cheat.” Emily looked away. “But neither did I. Neither of us were brave enough to be honest. It's a little late, but I’m going to do it. I don’t… I don’t really have a choice.”
* * *
Emily was almost too high from that delicious afternoon to notice the pile of letters on the counter. She desperately needed a shower before JJ caught her stinking of sex and a stripper’s perfume, but she distractedly leafed through the mail anyway, too sated and comfortable to worry.
She saw the postmark and her chest tightened with excitement just as her stomach sank with fear. She was so high that she had forgotten why she wanted this at all. She held it tight, it was too much to believe right now.
“Oh, my god.”
Emily stiffened. JJ was behind her, staring, with a disgusted look on her face. She couldn’t have seen it, could she?
“What is that on your neck?”
Emily’s hand slapped over the vivid mark.
JJ’s eyes widened. “Are you… are you seeing someone else? Having an affair?” Emily watched her for a long while. The horror faded and was replaced by anger. “You’re- you’re not allowed to-”
“Oh don’t you dare tell me what I’m allowed to do. Yes, I’m seeing someone else, and it isn’t any of your business.”
“It’s not?”
“I’m not fucking you, am I? I’m not ever going to be able to fuck you again. So deal with the fact that I am sleeping with a stripper, and I…” She stared at the letter again. “And I can’t get enough of her.” She looked back at JJ. “I’m not renewing the lease at the end of the month, so… find somewhere else to go by then, alright?”
JJ stared at her, truly lost. “You can’t do this to me.”
“I have to. Maybe its selfish, but I have to get out of here, or I’ll die. I have to go.” Her fingers pressed against the tender area on her neck. Even, she thought, if suddenly, for the first time since you told me what you’d done, I though it might be worth it to stay.
But she would lose it anyways; she knew that. This was her chance and she would be a fool to pass it up.
* * *
“I’m leaving her,” Emily said, lying back on Emma’s bed. “I told her about you.”
Emma shot her a look. “You aren’t leaving her for me, are you? Because Freud had ways of dealing with that, but you’re my first client.”
Emily stared at the ceiling. “No. I’m going to Washington DC. I was accepted into the FBI training course.”
“I’m impressed. And glad. I can’t be your whore anymore, I’m afraid. I’m graduating this spring and have a job offer.” She didn’t say where. It was time to cut off this part of her life.
“Congratulations.” Emily sat up. “You were never my whore.” She smiled awkwardly. “You were always a bit out of my league.”
Emma gave her an odd look and a smile. “Thank you.”
“I should go,” she said, starting to rise off the bed.
Emma stopped her, then climbed easily into her lap and pinned her to the bed. “Oh not yet. You’re going to fuck me again, for old time’s sake.”
* * *
Three years later Emily and Morgan strode into the psychologist’s office for a consultation on a particularly gruesome serial rapist who was predating the north of Florida.
“Doctor Frost?” A woman, hair bound up into a twist, and a tailored beautiful suit looked up, saw them and Emily dropped her notebook.
“Hello.” The woman evaluated her appraisingly. “Agent Prentiss.”
Emily turned bright red.
A broad grin spread over Emma’s face as her eyes flicked over her old lover. Emily couldn’t help but duck her head and smile back.
Morgan glanced back and forth between them, his eyes widening. “Should I leave the two of you alone?”
FIN