Bicker 7

Mar 12, 2010 12:05

Title: Bicker pt 7

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: NC-17

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Word Count: 2631

Prompt: 029. Rim Job

Apologies: And more of the Princeton Eating Club AU! If you don't know what Eating Clubs are, think Hellfire Club for college students. Bicker is the system for picking new members to let into the club.

I don't know.  I think my writing has gone to hell recently.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Part 5
Part 6

“Hey, what are you studying?” Emily wandered into her room and bent down to look over Emma’s shoulder at her books.

“Econ. The new professor’s a bitch.”

Emily grinned into her hair. “A new one already?”

Emma flashed her an irritated look. “Everyone thinks Brandburg bailing to teach economics in darkest Africa is my fault.”

“It is your fault.”

“The new prof keeps glaring at me during class. She’s pissed that I increased her teaching load and is taking it out on everyone, so they’re all pissed at me too.” Emma scowled. “How is it my fault? I didn’t get my daddy to call the school to whine about some jerk making a pass at me.”

“If everyone didn’t know you were a whore I wouldn’t have had to,” Emily snapped with more venom than she had intended. “You didn’t seem particularly happy about it at the time, either.”

Emma turned, jerking her chair around and half rising from her seat. “I was angry. The asshole was on a power trip. If he wanted to trade favors to improve my grade on something I was actually bad at, that’s one thing, but I aced that test. He was deliberately manipulating my grades for his own benefit.”

“You’re saying that you would have done it if you really needed to?”

Emma frowned. “You of all people should know that sex is an exchange. And it’s never an equal exchange. Even when you’re trading pleasure, it’s always a power game. If I can get two for one, pleasure and power, why shouldn’t I? Your club knows how that works better than anyone. That’s why initiations are blow jobs. You take away the opportunity for pleasure, and by evaluating us you take away any feeling of power we get for being successful. You said that the recipient is always submissive, but that’s not true.”

“They are when they don’t have a choice about it.”

Emma was up now, in her face, angry and determined. “And right now? Do you have a choice about this? Or are you just a pawn in the bargain that says I give up all my autonomy for a chance to be in their special little club. Giving it up to you is just practice, isn’t it? In the end, I give it up to the club.”

Emily couldn’t meet her eyes. “We all give it up to the club. It’s not that big of a sacrifice.”

Emma moved towards her, looking at her curiously. “Have you ever fucked someone just because you wanted to? Not because you were bullied into it, or because someone else wanted you and you were desperate for their good opinion, but because you wanted it? Even me?” Emma caught her arm, shaking it to try and make Emily meet her eyes. “You’ve never just taken me. You always wait until I acquiesce, until I give in to you and admit that I want it. You jerked me out of the movie but you didn’t have the guts to shove me to my knees and make me eat you.”

“I’m not that kind of person!”

“Maybe I want it! Sometimes I don’t need to be coddled. Sometimes I just like to be taken!”

“You don’t understand anything do you!” Emily grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back onto the bed, moving over her until she was kneeling there, Emma pushed back against the pillows. “You have to want it. If you don’t want it, then I can’t take you. That’s the first thing Selene taught me. I am the only one who can control my own body. If I come when she tells me not to, that means I wanted to.”

Emma struggled against the grip on her shoulders. “That is so scientifically unfounded!”

“Discount fear. Discount surprise.” Emily caught the front of her shirt and jerked it open, buttons scattering. “You can be bound and gagged, naked for anyone to manhandle, and yes, you’ll get wet, you’ll be ready to take it. But if you really don’t want it, there is nothing they can do to make you come. And sometimes that is the only power you have.” Her hand slid up her inner thigh, fingers curling into her. Emma gasped and lifted her hips, pushing into her. Emily withdrew and Emma dropped back down, regaining her breath.

“You’ve forgotten one thing, that I’m fucking easy.”

Emily laughed, leaning in to tug at the front closure bra with her teeth, popping it open easily. “I’m not saying it doesn’t take practice.”

* * *

Emily had avoided the club all that week. If Emma wondered why she was desperately making alternative plans, she didn’t ask. She seemed happy enough to take Emily to her dining hall, eat with Brittany on Monday, go to Japanese table on Tuesday, Wednesday a culture group was giving a dinner, and then it was Thursday.

“Are we going to Quad?”

Emily watched her for a long moment, trying to read her face, figure out what she was thinking. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again, not willing to mislead. “I’m pretty sure no one’s going to be mean to you at the club.” ‘Anymore’ was unspoken.

Emma narrowed her eyes. “I’m not running away from your friend.”

Emily laughed, incredibly relieved. “Oh really?”

She let her hand rest on the small of Emma’s back as they walked along Prospect street, past their club, to Quad. All she knew was that she did not want her to go in there alone. It was a sick feeling, too much like jealousy for comfort.

Ro and Emma glared daggers at each other all through dinner and Emily felt a little bit like a chew-toy being worried by two dogs.

They stayed late for a show, Emma and Ro finding a level of snide banter that was almost not vicious. Emily just groaned and tried not to react to Emma’s fingers curling possessively over the inseam of her jeans.

Afterwards, Emma disappeared down the stairs to find their jackets.

“I don't think she’s actually given up control over her sexuality to you,” said Ro, giving Emily a smirk. “I think she’s just taken over yours.”

Emily rolled her eyes but worried that it was probably true.

As they passed through the 1879 archway that split the religion building, Emma stopped. Emily paused, looking at her. She wasn’t usually in a rush to get back, but she never just stopped. Emma seemed hesitant, which was unlike her, and she reached up, her fingers brushing against the worn leather of her collar. Emily felt her skin flush. She could not believe that she was still wearing it, but even more so, she couldn’t believed the humiliating way she responded when she noticed it was there. (Well, whenever you see a dog on a leash dragging their master along behind them you do wonder who’s doing the walking and who’s being walked.)

It was easy to see what she wanted, and Emily sauntered into her, curling her fingers around her hips, and backing her into the shadowy corner. She loved the way Emma breathed in when she kissed her, let her take over. Emma caught her hand and moved it down, putting it on her leg right below her skirt and sliding it purposefully up. Emily laughed into the kiss and messed it up.

“Are you serious?” She murmured, not wanting the archway to echo. “Everyone does this. I hate wandering through here and finding people fucking.”

Emily could feel the petulant expression against her cheek though it was too dark to see. “I haven’t.”


“I haven’t. And I want…” Emma pushed her back a little and started unbuttoning her shirt. She stripped it and her jacket off together and dropped them on to the ground. Then she leaned back against the cool stone. “I want you.’

Emily reached out and pressed her fingertips against the brick, then she ran them along the smooth skin of Emma’s neck and shoulder. Goosebumps appeared in her wake. “I really don’t know if it’s warm enough for this.”

“I think you just like making me beg.”

Emily considered this, and nodded. Then she caught Emma’s arms and in one quick action shoved her up against the brick wall, just like she wanted. Emma keened and tipped her head forward to try and kiss her, but Emily kept herself just a hairsbreadth out of range.

“Wha…” Emma was mainly incoherent.


“Please.” And Emily slid into her pressing their bodies together and letting their mouths meet and tongues brush, and her hand moved up under Emma’s skirt. The cold air and the random people walking by were entirely forgotten.

She was rubbing into her, letting her fingers get slick and wet, Emma gasping into her mouth, never more pleased at the results of the no-underwear dictum. And then Emma pulled back, halting the motion of her hand. For being so flushed her cheeks were rather pale, and though she breathed hard, her eyes were wide and afraid.

“Do you… do you think you could touch…” her expression was pained, her grip on Emily’s wrist still tight. “Not go in, but just… show me what it feels like.”

For a moment, Emily had no idea what she was talking about, but there was a tug on her wrist, pulling her hand farther in between Emma’s legs, and then she realized.

“Turn around,” she said, surprised by the roughness in her own voice.

Emma looked at her, wide-eyed, and then turned to face the wall. She put up her hands, letting her fingers curl around the molded concrete decoration. Emily dropped slowly down on to her knees.

They shouldn’t be doing this here. Anyone could intrude. Public safety could be along any minute, tapping them on the shoulder and telling them to get off before they were arrested for public indecency. It was entirely the wrong situation, and yet Emma’s choice of it was completely understandable. The moment she didn’t want it anymore, there would be an out. Emily curled her fingers into her wetness and dragged them up. Emma’s shoulders tightened. She leaned forward, lifting her hips slightly, but her fingers clung desperately to the concrete. Emily would feel these flagstones in her knees for a week. But scrunching her skirt up over her hips, she cupped Emma’s ass, spreading it easily with her thumbs, and leaned in to slide her tongue over the tight skin.

Emma was sobbing in minutes. Emily could feel the slickness coating the inside of her thighs. Her body was responding to it almost too much. She let her fingers take over for a moment, biting down gently on her cheek. She pushed, listening to the choked gasp. She couldn’t say that Emma didn’t like it, but it was clearly too much for her. Emily leaned back in, rolling the flat her tongue across it before probing gently.

“God, no. No more. Please stop. Please.”

Emily gave one last lap and moved away. Emma’s knees buckled, and Emily, getting to her feet, quickly hooked an arm around her waist and held her up. “Hey, you all right?”

Emma sank into her, pressing her face to her chest and twisting her fingers in her shirt. “All right,” she managed, barely. Emily caught her hand, unwound it and held it. Her fingers were bleeding.

“Come on. We’ve had more luck than we deserve tonight,” she murmured in Emma’s ear. “Let’s go home.”

Emma nodded weakly, and they started towards the dorms, Emma still leaning heavily on her. In her room, Emily let her charge collapse on the bed, and took off her shoes for her.

* * *

There was nothing Emily could do to stop Sunday from coming. Saturday she came back from a completely useless trip to the library and found her room invaded.

“Um, what’s going on here?”

Emma glanced up from the futon where she was lying next to Brittany, books and papers spread out around them. Brittany grinned. “Hi Emily! I’m being tutored!”

Emma rolled her eyes at Emily’s worried expression. “Do you think that if I were going to cheat on you I would a. do it with her, or b. bring her back to your room? I do have my own.” She frowned. “Though I don’t have any fucking clue where the key is.”

Emily laughed and dropped her bag. She flopped down on the futon next to Emma. “So what are we learning?” Her hand brushed Emma’s side, but didn’t stay. Emma caught it and put it in place, making sure it curled comfortingly around her hip. The warmth of her body made Emily smile and move into her to press her lips to the back of her neck.

“Greek poetry,” Emma mumbled, unfocused.

Brittany smiled. “I think I’ve got an okay outline. I’m going to go write it and leave you alone.”

She slipped out. Emily blinked. “Are we giving off sexy vibes?”

Emma rolled over to face her. “We always give off sexy vibes. It’s why Ro hates me.”

“Mmm, good.” Emily moved into her, sliding her hand up the bare skin of her side, rumpling up her shirt, and nibbling at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“Kiss me?” Emma whispered weakly. “Please,” she added, not quite hating herself for it.

“My pleasure.”

Her tongue was deep in her mouth, sliding across the stud, and Emma’s hands were on her ass, keeping her tight and close. She rolled up over her, curving her back and turning her head to get a different angle, and the irritating sound of a phone ringing came from her pocket.

“Shit,” Emily muttered, pulling away. Emma didn’t let her go. Her hand slid down her jeans and dipped into her pocket, plucking out the offending phone.

“I’m going to chuck this out the window.” Emily pouted and made a few half-hearted swipes at it. Emma glanced at the ID on the small window outside and then dropped it like it was a hot coal. “It’s your dad.”

Emily paled and scooped it up.


“Hi honey, where are you? Aren’t you going to meet us for the game?”

“That’s… this Saturday?”

“We’re outside your building. Want to let us in?”

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a second.”

“Your parents are here?” Emma gave her a rather horrified look.

“They always come to the Yale game.” Emily snapped her phone shut and wrinkled her nose. “Christ.” She started straightening out her shirt.

“What do you want me to do?”

Emily stared at her. Emma shrugged pointedly. “This is your call.” When there was no response, she shook her head. “I have a paper to write. I need to go to the library.” She closed her laptop and slid it into her backpack.

Emily tugged again at her shirt, unable to focus enough to comprehend any of this. She pulled open a drawer, hunting for a comb, and found a ring of keys instead. “Are these yours?”

Emma snatched them out of her hand. “Yes.” She had a dark expression, but Emily didn’t know why.

“I’ve got to go.” She left the room. Emma followed her.

After the dark corridors, outside it was almost too bright to see. But there were Emily’s parents, her father in his orange and black striped scarf, and her mother, resigned to his embarrassing enthusiasm. With them was a third figure, pumps, black nylons, tight black skirt, and a hooded sweatshirt with the club insignia over her perfect blouse. The woman smiled, a bright glint of teeth, and a bolt of terror shot through Emily’s chest. Her skin burnt with a different response.

“Hello, Emily, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

* * *
Part 8

criminal minds, nc-17, x-men, citrus taste, emma/emily

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