Faces part 2
Title: Faces (part 2)
Author: Tamoline and Louisa
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Not my pairing.
Part 1
The outside of the coffee shop certainly looked more promising than the last place that we'd met. Relatively small, seemingly quiet and tastefully decorated. Definitely a mark in Emily's favour. The interior matched the outside: an attractive colour scheme clearly inspired by the natural world, a theme enhanced by the aesthetically pleasing arrangements of plants, shells and pebbles scattered artfully around the place. Yes, all in all it seemed an eminently suitable venue in which to meet up with a new friend. Such a pity about the name.
As I made my way between the solid wooden tables (roughly carved, but beautifully polished), I couldn't help but notice that it had an almost exclusively female clientele. Subtle. Still, not entirely unexpected. It only took me a moment to locate Emily in one of the alcoves at the back of the shop. After ordering my drink, I went over to join her.
"'Bean There'?" I asked her, laughing a little despite myself. "Really, Emily, really?" I set my cup and saucer down on the table and sat down across from her.
"Coffee from all around the world," she replied blandly. She held the deadpan expression for a moment, but then a smile spread across her face. "Excellent. You pass the first test." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as they met mine.
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, inviting her to elaborate.
"You didn't give up on me immediately from the name alone. Even better, you realised that the name was a pun."
"You mean, you've met someone who didn't get that?" Sadly, I could well believe that such a person existed. The ability to look through people's minds had confirmed my admittedly low opinion of humanity. And their taste. Oh, so little taste. The success of reality TV sprung to mind as an example of that.
"She had no sense of humour at all," she confirmed, shuddering in remembered horror. "Never again."
"I can see why you felt the need for a screening method."
"Not that your sense of humour was really in doubt after the other night."
"I'm so glad that you noticed."
"Oh, I noticed alright."
Her voice took on a smoky undertone, gaze travelling over me as it had the other night. As she appraised me, I mentally catalogued my own appearance. Although a little tousled from the ivory knitted cap, my platinum-blonde hair was clearly expertly cut and styled, and good make-up went a long way towards concealing any dark shadows that may have nestled beneath my sapphire blue eyes. (They were my best feature, if I do say so myself.) My coat was a white, Chinese-style woven-cotton long-coat lined with wadded silk-floss. It was trimmed with fur at the collar and cuffs and the front was embroidered with a subtle floral design in palest gold, barely visible against the white. It opened to reveal an ivory knitted babydoll dress that fell to mid-thigh and was cinched in at the waist with a white and gold sash. My white boots were spike-heeled and made of the softest calfskin, laced up at the front and reaching to mid-calf level. White fishnet tights also helped to show off my legs to their best advantage (they were another of my good features). My jewellery was understated: diamond studs in my ears and around my neck a matching diamond pendant on a thin gold chain. All in all, I was looking pretty damn good.
"You look good," she said, as if reading my thoughts.
"Thank you, darling." It was certainly gratifying to know that my efforts had not gone unappreciated. "So do you."
She certainly did. The artfully down-at-heel look from the bar was gone without a trace, replaced by the classic elegance of a long black trumpet skirt paired with a crushed velvet long-sleeved fitted top. The rich plum colour was delightfully autumnal and brought out her complexion beautifully. The little I could see of her footwear suggested boots of some kind, black leather and possibly block-heeled. Perhaps a little overly sensible, but I could work with that. My first priority, however, would be the hair. The colour was fine but that severely straightened style was a crime on someone with her jaw line. I was thinking... A mass of soft waves gently framing her face. Yes, that would be *much* better. It was, however, a project for another time. Her current ensemble was topped off with silver earrings and a black velvet choker. The latter was a daring choice, but it worked. All in all -- despite the hair -- very nice indeed.
"So what other things about Emma Winthrop should I know?" she asked, leaning a little towards me, eyes bright with questions and mindscape gently glowing with vibrant colour.
"I'm a woman of international mystery," I told her wryly. "Also of leisure at the current moment."
"Leisure. I've heard of that."
"I needed to make a change," I said with a little more honesty than I was entirely comfortable with. I tried to turn it into a joke. "I had some money saved up, so I decided to use it to go and find something interesting. D.C. being the fabulously attractive tourist destination that it is, I ended up here." Truth to tell, I wasn't certain why, out of anywhere I could have chosen, I'd come to rest in this particular place. I supposed it was as good a place as any. But it was time to move the spotlight off me for the moment. "So, what do you do?"
Emily glanced away briefly as the steel in her mind rose to the surface a little. Her voice neutral, she said: "I prefer to leave work at the office." That line drawn, she looked back to me and smiled, her mind softening once more. "Besides," she added. "If I tell you everything now, how could I possibly compete with an international woman of mystery?" Despite the humour, there was still a hint of wariness in her eyes. I sensed this was an important checkpoint for her.
Interestingly, the surface of her thoughts hadn't revealed what she actually did for a living. That was a little more than the usual work/home split. I briefly thought about delving deeper, but that somehow felt like cheating. Emily was a present that I wouldn't mind unwrapping at my leisure.
"Is that the second test? Seeing if I'll leave your oh-so-mysterious job be?"
She relaxed further. "It's one you haven't passed yet, I'll note," she said teasingly.
I waved a hand in the air. "Consider it left alone. For tonight, anyway. I give you fair warning, though: I still plan to find out in the fullness of time. When you least expect it, I shall pounce." I leaned forward, as if confiding a secret. "It's what we international women of mystery do."
"So you're saying that I should always be wary around you?"
I laughed. "I've been accused of many things in my time, darling. Safe is... not one of them."
"I'll bear that in mind," she said with exactly the glint in her eye that I was hoping for. This was... entertaining. I would have said flattering, but, really, I had no self doubts in this regard. "So...?" She drew out the word, rolling it around on her tongue so that it emerged low and husky. I bet she could even sound sexy reading out the phone book.
"So...?" I repeated, slowly, letting my mouth caress the word, as if, well, it was something else. Two could play at that game, and I could play it better. I had the satisfaction of watching her eyes flick briefly downwards, probably to my lips, although I *was* leaning forward a little. To her credit, though, she maintained her composure and her focus.
"You hadn't finished answering my question."
"I hadn't?"
"You hadn't." Her tone brooked no argument, but there was still that glint in her eye. It was that spark that made me decide to play along. That and the fact that I hadn't had a decent conversation in far too long. Whatever else may be said of the delectable Emily Prentiss, no one could accuse her of turning up to a battle of wits unarmed. A frisson of electricity ran along my spine: I was looking forward to this.
Taking a long, leisurely drink of my coffee, I settled back in my surprisingly comfortable seat and gazed at her over the rim of the cup.
"What would you like to know?"
She considered for a moment. "What does an international woman of mystery do for fun? Aside from hanging around places like The S X Factor to mock the desperate and dateless."
"I read." Huh. How about that: an honest answer.
"Really?" She didn't seem surprised, exactly, but I could tell she hadn't expected my reply. For some reason, I often got that response. Maybe I should wear my glasses more often. "What are you reading at the moment?"
"Actually, I'm currently revisiting Pride and Prejudice. I have something of a fondness for Austen." And I refused to think of it as a guilty pleasure, damn it. They were classics of English literature!
That started a conversation that ranged from books, through philosophy, to politics, to cooking, to fashion. Whilst she might not have had my breadth of knowledge in these subjects, she knew more than enough to keep me entertai and before we knew it, Bean There was closing and we were being asked to leave. We paused just outside the shop for a moment, looking at each other.
"It's been a really good night," she told me. "Thank you."
Surprisingly, I had to agree. I usually didn't get on nearly so well with members of my own sex, let alone a human. Still, given how many mutants were left, it might behoove me to widen my social circles.
I smiled back at her. "Indeed, we really must do this again at some point."
"Indeed," she breathed, her voice low and sultry. Moving towards me, she leaned in, and I realised that she was going to kiss me. Not that I hadn't had an inkling about where things were going, but... My first instinct was to flinch, to pull away, and I was suddenly angry at myself. Was I, Emma Frost, reduced to this? It was just a kiss. What did a kiss matter, anyway? It was harmless fun, and it might even make me feel better. I really, really needed that at the moment.
The thoughts flashed through my head in the time it took for her lips to reach mine. The kiss was slow and tentative, her lips soft and gentle against mine. Afterwards, she pulled back to examine my face. "Did you mind that? Did I overstep?" she asked, suddenly looking insecure.
I gave her a crooked smile. "I think you would have known if you had."
She relaxed. "Good. It's just that you looked almost scared there for a minute." Scared? Me? Of a bloody kiss? She laughed softly. "The last thing I needed was to have misread the signals and have kissed a straight girl."
I kissed her back angrily, savagely, hands threading through her hair for a more secure grip, using all the tricks in my arsenal. When I finally released her, she was panting slightly, looking a little dazed.
"Still think I might be a straight girl?"
"No. No." She shook her head slightly. "I think you've definitively laid that myth to rest. Wow. Where did you learn to kiss like that?"
"I told you I was a woman of mystery." I gave her my best smoky smile, one which had melted the knees of more people than I could count.
Emily looked at me, head slightly tilted, eyes dark. "I really had no idea that the night was going to end like this."
"Who ever said it has to end here?" bubbled to my mouth almost before I could stop it. Then the anger which had propelled me this far made me say it anyway. The thought of being in a cold bed alone, just waiting for the nightmares, had nothing to do with it.
Emily just stood there for a moment before speaking. "I haven't got space in my life for a girlfriend." I noticed that she didn't say no.
My smile deepened, and I swayed forward half a step so that our lips were almost touching once more. Old habits again: I knew this dance too well. "Oh, *darling*," I purred. "Did I say *anything* about a relationship?" The very thought chilled like ice, almost throwing me out of the mood completely. Then I mustered myself. This would simply never do. "Simple, uncomplicated, not to mention very, *very* hot, sex is the only thing on offer tonight," I lingered over each word as though it were a fine wine. There, back in the zone.
Emily shivered. "Now, how could I resist an offer like that?"
"Your place or mine?"
"Mine's a little far away," she said. A lie. How fascinating. If not entirely unexpected. Emily did seem to be rather a private person.
We both had our cars, so I led the way after giving her directions to my apartment. As it turned out, I needn't have bothered with the directions -- she had absolutely no trouble keeping up with me. I wondered idly if that would be an omen. You could tell a lot about someone from the way they handled a car, and Emily seemed to be that rarest of creatures: a good driver. Perhaps her mysterious day job involved driving. I couldn't really see her as a chauffeur or a delivery girl, though. Racer? Hmm... No, not likely. Whatever she did for a living, I'd wager it was something that involved her mind. A couple of hours' snarky commentary and an evening's conversation were enough to tell me that she was the kind of woman who thrived on intellectual stimulation. If she was anything at all like me -- and in that regard, I suspected she might be -- she would go stark staring mad without it.
In both too short and too long a time, we reached my humble abode. This was it. Telling myself that the rapidity of my heartbeat was due to excitement and not nervousness, I was out of my car before she'd even set her parking brake. By the time she looked over in my direction, I was leaning against the wall in an artfully casual pose. She smiled at me as she slid out of the car.
"Fancy meeting you here."
"Indeed." I didn't smile back at her, instead quirking an eyebrow in an expression of challenge. Her smile deepened in response, proving that I'd read her correctly. (Well of course I had -- I'm Emma Frost.) Closing her car door firmly, she turned back to face me and that's when I pounced. Surging forward, I pressed her back against the car, using the full length of my body to keep her in place. There was a brief moment when she stiffened and I thought she was going to push me away, but she yielded before I could release her. A quick mental scan confirmed that her reaction was caused by surprise, rather than by unwillingness (mental note: good reflexes backed up by self-defence training), and so I continued as planned.
Twining my arms around her neck, I kissed her gently, just the merest brush of my lips on hers. It wasn't at all what she was expecting, but then where's the fun in giving someone what they expect? She started to say something, but I covered her mouth with mine, swallowing the words before they could emerge into the cold night air; smothering them with heat. I could sense that *this* was what she'd expected, what she wanted, what she *craved*. My lips on hers with almost bruising intensity; tenderness banished by passion's fire. My nails rested on the back of her neck. I drew them lightly over the soft skin as I caught her lower lip between my teeth. She responded... My god, was she responsive, a moan emerging from somewhere deep in her throat as she returned my passion with her own. I did so love that in a woman. And this was just a kiss. I wasn't planning on staying out here for long, but in the end several minutes went by before I broke off the kiss and pulled back, gratified beyond measure by the small, disappointed sound she made as I stepped away.
"It's cold out here. Care to come up and see me?" The reference was, of course, completely intentional.
"Lead the way." Her hair may have been slightly mussed, her pupils large and liquid with desire, but her expression was composed and her voice was perfectly level, if a little husky. She certainly recovered herself quickly. I'd have to see what I could do to break her composure a little more thoroughly. A rather predatory smile curved my lips as I led her into the building. I did so *love* a challenge.
We took the stairs, rather than the elevator. All part of setting the proper mood. The kiss outside was to whet her appetite; this simulated chase was to maintain it. Not to mention giving her a great view of my arse and legs. Besides, physical exercise was supposed to work up an appetite.
Soon enough, we stood at the door. I held her gaze with mine as I unlocked it. "This is me." I gestured for her to precede me, quashing a small tremor of unease that threatened to rear its ugly head. This wasn't letting someone into my inner sanctum; this was gaining the advantage of home ground. Emily was on my territory here: that meant my rules. I watched her for a moment as she surveyed the small apartment. Her eyes flickered as she seemed to almost automatically trace over everything visible. The unease returned as I realised that the apartment was a little messier than I'd like. I'd obviously have to fix that, I mused. I wouldn't want anyone to think that I was a slob, after all. Certainly not my intriguing new acquaintance. Alas, short of a telepathic illusion there was little I could do to hide the appalling state of my apartment, so instead I attempted to distract her by running my fingers down her back.
"Let me help you with your coat."
She looked back at me a little jerkily. "I'm sure I can manage," she said, stepping away as she started to undo buttons.
"I'm sure you can," I replied, gliding after her in pursuit, moving around in front of her. "But a good hostess sees to her guest's every need."
Her fingers stilled as I covered her hands with my own. She didn't resist as I moved them away and placed them on my hips, curling her fingers around my curves without prompting.
"My every need?" she enquired.
"I'm all about the proper observance of etiquette," I breathed, continuing from where she left off with her unbuttoning.
Again, there was the slight stiffening, more sensed this time than actually physically felt; the almost-resistance that she banished with a conscious act of will. I knew she wanted to be here -- sweet mystery or not, there are some things a girl really had to be sure of -- so what was the barrier for? Maybe it was just that she was used to being the one in control. Well, I'm afraid that wasn't on the cards this evening. Sliding my hands beneath her coat, I made sure to brush my thumbs over her collarbones, my fingertips over her shoulders. Leaning in to lift the garment from her, I brushed her earlobe with my lips in the lightest of kisses.
"You have beautiful skin," I whispered. It was the kind of flawless that rich women with nothing better to do paid a fortune for, suffering through chemical treatments and mud baths and god knew what else, but she was completely natural. If I didn't have so many good features of my own, I might almost be envious.
"Thank you," she murmured back. "So do you." And then she kissed my neck. Well, that was just cheating. A totally underhanded, unexpected, unorthodox -- utterly divine! -- deceitful move that I absolutely just *had* to respond to.
"Mmmm..." Not that kind of response. Well, yes, *that* kind of response, but I couldn't let the move go unchallenged. That would simply never do. So, I nipped at her earlobe with my teeth, sliding a hand beneath the velvet of her top -- so soft -- to rake my nails lightly over her back. Ha! A point to me as she arched, letting out a startled gasp that was music to my ears. I took advantage of her distraction to pay some strategic attention to her neck. Starting just behind her ear, I trailed a line of kisses down to her collarbone, licking my way back up and then blowing gently on the sensitised skin before bringing my teeth to bear. She was breathing hard now, her pulse rapid beneath my lips. Distantly, I was aware of her fingers digging into my hips. I wondered if she would leave bruises. I was pretty damn sure I was going to, at the very least, and she was certainly wasn't complaining. Time to increase the intensity.
I yanked the coat the rest of the way off her one-handed, throwing it over a nearby box. (I didn't have a proper coat stand yet, and there weren't any hooks. Besides, it looked like a fairly sturdy coat. It would be fine.)
"Do you want any refreshments?" I punctuated my words with kisses and nibbles, bringing my now-unoccupied hand around to her torso, where I promptly found something to occupy it. Mmmm... Firm... "Or shall we retire for the evening?"
She gave a breathless laugh, sliding one hand down to cup my arse as she pulled me tighter against her with the other. "What if I want a coffee? Or... Mmmm... A cheese sandwich?"
I knew I liked her. I kissed my way back up to her ear, to murmur: "I'm afraid I seem to be all out of coffee and sandwiches at the moment. Can I offer Madame an alternative menu item?"
"That depends." She located my coat buttons, starting to open them with dextrous ease, despite my best efforts to distract her. That really was quite unacceptable.
The offending hand stilled as I nipped her sharply on the neck, and she gave a very satisfactory moan. I smiled, and kissed it better. "On what?" I breathed against her skin.
As her hand started its movement again, I thought that perhaps her persistence should be rewarded rather than punished. After all, I couldn't help but agree with her unspoken but clearly expressed thought that there were too many clothes in the way. I did my own part to remedy the situation, starting with her top. There was another short disagreement about who should be disrobing whom, but I'm happy to say that my point of view prevailed. I think the deciding factor was when I dropped to my knees to kiss her stomach, just below the belly button. (I have to admit that I did cheat a little, but it's hardly my fault if she was broadcasting what she'd really like me to do right then.)
Somehow she still managed to reply. "Do you have an alternative menu item?" she asked, her voice a little muffled as I eased the velvet garment off over her head.
It took me a second to remember what she was referring to, and then I was torn between amusement and irritation at her self possession. Amusement won. "Can't you guess?" The top went the way of the coat, although I was a little more careful with that than I had been with the other. Luckily, it landed where it was supposed to. Next came the bra, but I had a little trouble with the fastening. Well, I *was* working blind, not to mention multitasking. (Since I was leaning forward anyway, I took the opportunity to bestow some attention on her cleavage -- the kind that involved my lips and tongue. She seemed to appreciate it.) I think one of the hooks was caught on the material, or something. I could hardly just yank it -- I didn't want to ruin what was a reasonably nice undergarment unless I absolutely had to -- so I was forced to jiggle the stupid thing around until it finally worked free. On the plus side, all that movement led to other, rather pleasant jiggling. It might have been quite hypnotic to a lesser woman.
Finally managing to free those really rather attractive breasts from their unjust confinement, I held the bra up with an exclamation of triumph. Emily, the minx, took shameless advantage of my momentary distraction to cup my own breasts through my dress, pressing one leg between mine. Nylon slid smoothly over fishnets, and I couldn't help a shiver as she slowly brushed against me.
"Maybe you should tell me," she breathed. I have to admit that it took me a moment to recall that I'd asked her a question. I am reasonably certain that someone else would have been quite undone by that exquisite friction. I, however, possess one advantage that all those other women lack: I am Emma Frost. And, to paraphrase an acquaintance of mine: I am pretty bloody good at what I do.
Turnabout being fair play, I twisted around slightly, taking advantage of our position -- and the fact that her skirt had gotten hiked up at some point during the proceedings -- to slip my hand between her parted legs. I can't deny that what she was doing was very nice indeed, but it was nothing to what I could manage with my fingers. I was extremely pleased to discover how wet she was already, the evidence of her arousal soaking straight through panties and tights. It really made me feel rather appreciated.
"Well, darling," I drawled, pressing my fingers against her core as I traced slow circles over her clitoris with my thumb. "I was planning on fucking you senseless." As she shuddered and gasped, I bent my head to her breasts, eliciting a moan as I drew a nipple into my mouth and caressed it with my tongue.
"I, ah! I think that would be an... Mmmm... An acceptable alternative to hot coffee." The woman was still capable not only of speech, but of humour. How utterly frustrating. I dipped my mind into hers and confirmed that I really was performing to my usual standard. I was now officially imp... My train of thought got a little derailed as she palmed my breasts again, stroking them through the suddenly too-thick material of my dress and bra. I took a breath and focussed. It occurred to me that we were both wearing *far* too many clothes for this stage in the proceedings. I released the nipple, rather enjoying the disappointed groan she gave in response to the withdrawal of my tongue. Unfortunately for her, I was taught not to speak with my mouth full.
"I'm glad you approve. Now let's go to bed: I want you naked and writhing beneath me."
"That's funny," she breathed. "I was just thinking the same about you."
I chuckled throatily as I led her by one hand to the bedroom. (Walking backwards so I could leave said hand where it was, fingers still working between her legs. She didn't seem to be complaining.) "Sorry," I said, my voice sweet with fake regret. "Winner's choice."
She looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" And then her whole face changed, eyes closing as she threw her head back, mouth falling open in a near-silent "Oh!" I could feel her pulsing against my slick fingers, hot and wet and just so unutterably sexy as she stood there naked from the waist up, breasts quivering in time with the ebbing shudders travelling through her body. I held her as her knees sagged a little, supporting her over the short distance between here and my bedroom. She sank down onto the bed and I busied myself removing her boots while she was still distracted. When I glanced up again, she'd recovered her equanimity and was looking at me thoughtfully. "Winner's choice?" she enquired.
I patted her knee, standing up to (rather belatedly) remove my coat. "I'm ahead on points, which makes me the winner. And for my prize, I choose to ravish you mercilessly." I smiled at her, and I'm sure the devil himself danced in my eyes. "You could try an appeal, but I have it on good authority that the judge is a stone-cold bitch."
"So, this is a game?" Something wicked glittered in her eyes, then, something dark and wild that made me shiver deep inside.
"Everything's a game, darling, and I play to win." More truth in that than I'd like, but what was said was said. To cover my momentary disquiet, I undid the sash at my waist and pulled my dress off over my head. Staring into her eyes made me feel as though I was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at the endless black ocean below. It was a disorienting, vertiginous sensation. I heard the bedsprings creak, and when I emerged from the woollen cocoon, she was standing in front of me. Taking the dress out of my hands, she laid it gently aside and ran her hands over the now-bare skin of my back.
"So do I," she said softly. She bent to bring her lips to mine, but I pushed her away. I didn't know why I did it: I just reacted without thinking, shoving hard against her shoulders so that she stumbled and sat back down on the bed. This was unacceptable. Emma Frost did not flake out during sex. Emma Frost was going to pull her shit together and get back in the zone. Emma Frost was going to make Emily Prentiss fucking *scream*.
Covering my momentary lapse, I followed Emily down onto the bed as if I'd planned it that way, pressing her into the yielding mattress beneath us and covering her body with my own. I kissed her with almost savage passion, starting with her lips and moving down her body, lingering on her neck, breasts and stomach. She responded with equal ardour, kissing me back until I broke away from her lips, then fumbling with the fastenings of my bra. She actually managed to half-undo it before I slid down out of reach.
"Come back here," she panted, reaching after me.
"I'm," a kiss, "rather," a trailing tongue, "busy." A sharp nip for emphasis.
Without warning, she raked her nails across my back, making me arch and shiver, half-closing my eyes at the sensation. Taking advantage of my momentary pause, she half-sat up, supporting herself on one hand as she used the other to finish divesting me of the troublesome item of clothing. "A point to me, I think," she murmured into my ear.
"Maybe," I conceded, thrilled by her determination. "But you didn't think this through."
"Oh? What do you mean?" She tossed the bra onto the bed, bracing herself in preparation for flipping us over. Unfortunately for her, I was faster.
With a wicked smile, I demonstrated, putting lips and tongue, not to mention teeth to work on the breasts that she had dangled so temptingly in front of my face. Now, her muscles tensed for whole other reasons. I eased her back down onto the thoroughly ruffled duvet, moving us up the bed a little to reduce the risk of unfortunate accidents. (Sadly, this was the voice of experience talking, and not one I wished to repeat. Bruises upon one's derriere were not the most romantic of mementos.) Now she was at least temporarily distracted, I could continue lavishing upon her the attention she deserved, rendering her completely at my mercy. My hands roamed freely over the sweat and saliva-slicked skin of her torso, teasing and caressing on their way towards the waistband of her skirt. Tangling my fingers in the material, I slid skirt, tights and panties down her legs, trailing kisses in their wake. I paused when I reached her crotch, bestowing only a single, feather light kiss -- a promise of things to come -- before continuing on my way.
She groaned aloud. "Tease," she accused.
"Yes," I agreed. Nipping lightly at the skin of her inner thighs, I noted with satisfaction how she gasped and writhed beneath me. "But don't worry darling, I fully intend to satisfy you."
Throwing the bundle of clothing onto the rug, I knelt at the foot of the bed, very lightly brushing my fingertips against the damp folds between her thighs before running my hands slowly down the full length of her firmly muscled legs. She had *great* legs. I idly bet they'd look fantastic in black fishnets and killer heels, but that was a project for another time. Right now, I *really* wanted to make her come again.
Impatience may have been threatening to get the better of me, but my pride would not allow me to do this any other way than perfectly. First, I lightly drew my nails over the soles of her feet in a way I knew would be almost, but not quite, ticklish. (It was the 'not-quite' that made *all* the difference. Judging from her reaction, Emily agreed.) Second, I took my time kissing and stroking my way back up her legs, trailing my tongue over the moist, quivering skin of her inner thighs until she was almost ready to scream from frustration alone. Third, I simply... stopped, hovering there above my goal until she tilted her head up to look at me with an expression that was part confusion, part annoyance. I just smiled, waiting for the perfect moment to make my move. Any second now...
She drew breath to speak, but I covered her with my mouth, turning whatever she'd been about to say into a strangled, wordless exclamation. She wanted this, *needed* it; her desire washing over me like a physical thing. I opened myself to the sensation, delighting in the way her mind pulsed and shuddered in counterpoint to her body's responses. I was already wet, but my core throbbed in response to her reaction, sending pleasant tingles all the way through my body. God, I'd missed this. I stroked her engorged clitoris with my tongue, reaching up to cup one of her breasts with one hand. My other hand was busy between her legs, fingers tracing circles around her entrance. I could feel the pressure building within her, muscles bunching and releasing. I pressed my mouth against her, flicking my tongue faster and faster so that she gasped and panted and tangled her fingers in my hair. Almost... Almost... Now! I slid a finger inside her, slipping easily through the slick heat, the feel of it enough to tip her right over the edge of that precipice. She flung her head back and *screamed*, her mind whiting out with the intensity of it. I had to bite my lip to hold in an answering cry, shuddering right along with her. It was intense.
She was intense.
I kissed my way back up her body as she quivered; smiling fiercely down at her as she finally stilled and opened her eyes. "Welcome back."
"Wow," she muttered, blinking a few times.
"You're welcome." I couldn't keep a note of smugness from my voice, but I think any reasonable person would agree that there was just cause for it.
Narrowing her eyes, she met my gaze with an expression of determination. "Your turn now."
"Hmmm, I don't think so." I partially withdrew my finger from where it still nestled, curling it a little to make her twitch and gasp. "I'm not finished with you yet." Backing up my words with action, I added a second finger to the first, thrusting deep inside her again and again and again. I fucked her with my hand until she cried out for a second time, watching her face as she writhed beneath me, just as I wanted. Like I told her: I play to win. Afterwards, she fell back with a sigh, sprawling limp and languid on the bed as I withdrew my fingers from her molten core. Had I really worn her out? I had her pegged for more endurance than that. I propped myself up on an elbow, running my gaze over her deliciously naked body. Her limbs were tangled in the duvet, her hair spread out on the pillow like a fallen angel's halo, tousled and tangled. It suited her. She was the perfect picture of blissful satiation, which is why it quite took me by surprise when she pounced.
Before I knew it, I was the one sprawled on the bed, being quite thoroughly and enjoyably kissed. I have to admit that I wasn't precisely complaining about this turn of events. After all: I was quite convincingly ahead on points. A low, pleased sound rumbling in the back of my throat, I surrendered myself to her skilful ministrations.
Much as I'd suspected, she was *very* good with her hands.
Afterwards, we lay there in my bed, side by side, our breathing the only sound in the darkened room. We'd never gotten around to turning on the light, so the only illumination was a thin wedge of brightness spilling in from the hallway. It was... nice. Companionable. My eyes started to drift shut, only to snap wide open as my breath caught in my throat. No, it was claustrophobic. Smothering. I couldn't do this. I felt myself tense; couldn't stop my body drawing in on itself. I wrapped my arms tightly around my knees and fought to keep my breathing even and slow. The bedsprings shifted as Emily moved in response to my change of position. I felt her half-turn towards me, and then away, rolling all the way over and getting out of bed. I turned to watch as she padded around the room, stooping to gather up her discarded garments. A couple of times she stopped and turned in my direction, drawing in a breath as if she was about to speak, but each time she let it out again without saying a word. Bundle in hand, she turned around a couple of times, casting her gaze over the floor. When she moved into the light I could see that she was frowning.
I uncurled, propping myself up on my elbows. "If you're looking for the rest of your clothes," I drawled smugly, "I think they ended up somewhere in the hall."
She flashed me a look. "Thanks," she said a little sardonically. She turned to go, then her shoulders softened, and she looked back towards me, a lopsided smile quirking her lips. "For everything."
I flashed an answering smile, recovering my equilibrium, or at least doing a good job of faking it. "My pleasure," I said, drawing the words out a little.
I couldn't be certain given the light, but I do rather believe that I managed to score a blush off of her. She ducked out into the hallway, returning with the rest of her clothing. "I'm afraid I have to go," she said, an uncertain note in her voice as she got dressed.
I could leave it at that. I knew I probably should leave it at that. And if I did, I knew that we'd never see each other again, that we'd just be a sweet memory of a night of pleasure to each other, a bittersweet thought of what might have been. Maybe a few pleasurable dreams. And that would be for the best. All I had to do was say goodbye at the appropriate place, let her go, and that would be that.
"Before you go, the least I can do is offer you that coffee that I promised earlier," I said, my tone making it clear that I wouldn't be taking no for an answer.
I never was very good at taking my own best advice.
A short while later, we were both seated at my kitchen table, each holding a steaming cup of coffee. She was fully dressed, while I was swathed in a soft white robe with satin trim. I liked this robe: it was stylish, yet comfortable.
Emily contemplated her cup of coffee thoughtfully before looking back up at me. "I'm not used to having one-night stands with people I actually like," she admitted a little ruefully.
I smiled involuntarily at being told that she liked me. It wasn't that I didn't already know. But still, it hadn't seemed quite real until I had heard the words. "Then isn't it time to broaden your horizons a little, darling?"
She shot me an unhappy glance, sighed and took a sip of her coffee. Setting the cup firmly down on the table, she closed her eyes for a moment and then looked up, meeting my enquiring gaze. "I have a job that has irregular hours at best, that often requires me to fly out with little or no warning and just doesn't leave me enough energy for much outside of it. Especially a relationship. Especially the kind of relationship that a woman like you deserves."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," I murmured before I could stop myself, then ignored Emily's questioning look. "I'm still not sure that I see a problem here. As I've already mentioned, I'm not in the market for a girlfriend, and I have *plenty* of experience with keeping things at the casual sex level." I ignored the voice that said that I hadn't exactly liked any of those people either.
She regarded me doubtfully. "You really think that this can work?"
"Would I be making this invitation if I wasn't?" Actually, hang on, why *was* I making this offer?
"I've not known you for that long, but lack of self confidence doesn't appear to be one of your defining flaws."
"I can see why you have to fend off girls at every turn."
She laughed. "Okay, you win."
"I usually do," I smiled at her smugly. "Besides, where else can you get this level of conversation?"
She raised an eyebrow in my direction. "Do you really want an answer to that?"
I laughed. "Now I can't possibly let you go. I enjoy sparring with you far too much."
"And what are your thoughts on occasional bouts of sex as we both feel like it?"
"Amazingly hot sex, please." I was almost offended.
"Fair enough. Occasional bouts of amazingly hot sex as we both feel like it."
I pretended to think about it, determinedly ignoring the knives digging into my stomach. "I could be persuaded," I said a little coyly.
She finished off her coffee and stood up. "In any case, I'd definitely be interested in meeting up again. I'll let you know as and when my schedule gives me an opening."
I stood up as well. "Leaving?"
"Unfortunately," she sighed, then came over and touched my shoulders lightly with her hands. "Thank you for an absolutely fantastic evening."
She didn't move to kiss me, and I didn't offer. It felt like too much intimacy all of a sudden. I smiled and waved, and she left my apartment.
I sat back down at the table, clutching my coffee cup with both hands. What was I doing? How could a woman I'd just met and barely knew have this effect on me? Why did I even care? Maybe I just liked to torture myself, with the sweetest and sharpest pains. It would hardly be out of character. But I couldn't follow that line of thought any further, so I poured the rest of the coffee down the sink and went to bed.
The nightmares came again, as they almost always did; only this time tinged with a little more guilt than normal. And if my eyes were wet when I awoke, then it was obviously sweat from my perfect brow. It couldn't be anything else.
Author: Tamoline and Louisa
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Not my pairing.
Part 1
The outside of the coffee shop certainly looked more promising than the last place that we'd met. Relatively small, seemingly quiet and tastefully decorated. Definitely a mark in Emily's favour. The interior matched the outside: an attractive colour scheme clearly inspired by the natural world, a theme enhanced by the aesthetically pleasing arrangements of plants, shells and pebbles scattered artfully around the place. Yes, all in all it seemed an eminently suitable venue in which to meet up with a new friend. Such a pity about the name.
As I made my way between the solid wooden tables (roughly carved, but beautifully polished), I couldn't help but notice that it had an almost exclusively female clientele. Subtle. Still, not entirely unexpected. It only took me a moment to locate Emily in one of the alcoves at the back of the shop. After ordering my drink, I went over to join her.
"'Bean There'?" I asked her, laughing a little despite myself. "Really, Emily, really?" I set my cup and saucer down on the table and sat down across from her.
"Coffee from all around the world," she replied blandly. She held the deadpan expression for a moment, but then a smile spread across her face. "Excellent. You pass the first test." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as they met mine.
"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, inviting her to elaborate.
"You didn't give up on me immediately from the name alone. Even better, you realised that the name was a pun."
"You mean, you've met someone who didn't get that?" Sadly, I could well believe that such a person existed. The ability to look through people's minds had confirmed my admittedly low opinion of humanity. And their taste. Oh, so little taste. The success of reality TV sprung to mind as an example of that.
"She had no sense of humour at all," she confirmed, shuddering in remembered horror. "Never again."
"I can see why you felt the need for a screening method."
"Not that your sense of humour was really in doubt after the other night."
"I'm so glad that you noticed."
"Oh, I noticed alright."
Her voice took on a smoky undertone, gaze travelling over me as it had the other night. As she appraised me, I mentally catalogued my own appearance. Although a little tousled from the ivory knitted cap, my platinum-blonde hair was clearly expertly cut and styled, and good make-up went a long way towards concealing any dark shadows that may have nestled beneath my sapphire blue eyes. (They were my best feature, if I do say so myself.) My coat was a white, Chinese-style woven-cotton long-coat lined with wadded silk-floss. It was trimmed with fur at the collar and cuffs and the front was embroidered with a subtle floral design in palest gold, barely visible against the white. It opened to reveal an ivory knitted babydoll dress that fell to mid-thigh and was cinched in at the waist with a white and gold sash. My white boots were spike-heeled and made of the softest calfskin, laced up at the front and reaching to mid-calf level. White fishnet tights also helped to show off my legs to their best advantage (they were another of my good features). My jewellery was understated: diamond studs in my ears and around my neck a matching diamond pendant on a thin gold chain. All in all, I was looking pretty damn good.
"You look good," she said, as if reading my thoughts.
"Thank you, darling." It was certainly gratifying to know that my efforts had not gone unappreciated. "So do you."
She certainly did. The artfully down-at-heel look from the bar was gone without a trace, replaced by the classic elegance of a long black trumpet skirt paired with a crushed velvet long-sleeved fitted top. The rich plum colour was delightfully autumnal and brought out her complexion beautifully. The little I could see of her footwear suggested boots of some kind, black leather and possibly block-heeled. Perhaps a little overly sensible, but I could work with that. My first priority, however, would be the hair. The colour was fine but that severely straightened style was a crime on someone with her jaw line. I was thinking... A mass of soft waves gently framing her face. Yes, that would be *much* better. It was, however, a project for another time. Her current ensemble was topped off with silver earrings and a black velvet choker. The latter was a daring choice, but it worked. All in all -- despite the hair -- very nice indeed.
"So what other things about Emma Winthrop should I know?" she asked, leaning a little towards me, eyes bright with questions and mindscape gently glowing with vibrant colour.
"I'm a woman of international mystery," I told her wryly. "Also of leisure at the current moment."
"Leisure. I've heard of that."
"I needed to make a change," I said with a little more honesty than I was entirely comfortable with. I tried to turn it into a joke. "I had some money saved up, so I decided to use it to go and find something interesting. D.C. being the fabulously attractive tourist destination that it is, I ended up here." Truth to tell, I wasn't certain why, out of anywhere I could have chosen, I'd come to rest in this particular place. I supposed it was as good a place as any. But it was time to move the spotlight off me for the moment. "So, what do you do?"
Emily glanced away briefly as the steel in her mind rose to the surface a little. Her voice neutral, she said: "I prefer to leave work at the office." That line drawn, she looked back to me and smiled, her mind softening once more. "Besides," she added. "If I tell you everything now, how could I possibly compete with an international woman of mystery?" Despite the humour, there was still a hint of wariness in her eyes. I sensed this was an important checkpoint for her.
Interestingly, the surface of her thoughts hadn't revealed what she actually did for a living. That was a little more than the usual work/home split. I briefly thought about delving deeper, but that somehow felt like cheating. Emily was a present that I wouldn't mind unwrapping at my leisure.
"Is that the second test? Seeing if I'll leave your oh-so-mysterious job be?"
She relaxed further. "It's one you haven't passed yet, I'll note," she said teasingly.
I waved a hand in the air. "Consider it left alone. For tonight, anyway. I give you fair warning, though: I still plan to find out in the fullness of time. When you least expect it, I shall pounce." I leaned forward, as if confiding a secret. "It's what we international women of mystery do."
"So you're saying that I should always be wary around you?"
I laughed. "I've been accused of many things in my time, darling. Safe is... not one of them."
"I'll bear that in mind," she said with exactly the glint in her eye that I was hoping for. This was... entertaining. I would have said flattering, but, really, I had no self doubts in this regard. "So...?" She drew out the word, rolling it around on her tongue so that it emerged low and husky. I bet she could even sound sexy reading out the phone book.
"So...?" I repeated, slowly, letting my mouth caress the word, as if, well, it was something else. Two could play at that game, and I could play it better. I had the satisfaction of watching her eyes flick briefly downwards, probably to my lips, although I *was* leaning forward a little. To her credit, though, she maintained her composure and her focus.
"You hadn't finished answering my question."
"I hadn't?"
"You hadn't." Her tone brooked no argument, but there was still that glint in her eye. It was that spark that made me decide to play along. That and the fact that I hadn't had a decent conversation in far too long. Whatever else may be said of the delectable Emily Prentiss, no one could accuse her of turning up to a battle of wits unarmed. A frisson of electricity ran along my spine: I was looking forward to this.
Taking a long, leisurely drink of my coffee, I settled back in my surprisingly comfortable seat and gazed at her over the rim of the cup.
"What would you like to know?"
She considered for a moment. "What does an international woman of mystery do for fun? Aside from hanging around places like The S X Factor to mock the desperate and dateless."
"I read." Huh. How about that: an honest answer.
"Really?" She didn't seem surprised, exactly, but I could tell she hadn't expected my reply. For some reason, I often got that response. Maybe I should wear my glasses more often. "What are you reading at the moment?"
"Actually, I'm currently revisiting Pride and Prejudice. I have something of a fondness for Austen." And I refused to think of it as a guilty pleasure, damn it. They were classics of English literature!
That started a conversation that ranged from books, through philosophy, to politics, to cooking, to fashion. Whilst she might not have had my breadth of knowledge in these subjects, she knew more than enough to keep me entertai and before we knew it, Bean There was closing and we were being asked to leave. We paused just outside the shop for a moment, looking at each other.
"It's been a really good night," she told me. "Thank you."
Surprisingly, I had to agree. I usually didn't get on nearly so well with members of my own sex, let alone a human. Still, given how many mutants were left, it might behoove me to widen my social circles.
I smiled back at her. "Indeed, we really must do this again at some point."
"Indeed," she breathed, her voice low and sultry. Moving towards me, she leaned in, and I realised that she was going to kiss me. Not that I hadn't had an inkling about where things were going, but... My first instinct was to flinch, to pull away, and I was suddenly angry at myself. Was I, Emma Frost, reduced to this? It was just a kiss. What did a kiss matter, anyway? It was harmless fun, and it might even make me feel better. I really, really needed that at the moment.
The thoughts flashed through my head in the time it took for her lips to reach mine. The kiss was slow and tentative, her lips soft and gentle against mine. Afterwards, she pulled back to examine my face. "Did you mind that? Did I overstep?" she asked, suddenly looking insecure.
I gave her a crooked smile. "I think you would have known if you had."
She relaxed. "Good. It's just that you looked almost scared there for a minute." Scared? Me? Of a bloody kiss? She laughed softly. "The last thing I needed was to have misread the signals and have kissed a straight girl."
I kissed her back angrily, savagely, hands threading through her hair for a more secure grip, using all the tricks in my arsenal. When I finally released her, she was panting slightly, looking a little dazed.
"Still think I might be a straight girl?"
"No. No." She shook her head slightly. "I think you've definitively laid that myth to rest. Wow. Where did you learn to kiss like that?"
"I told you I was a woman of mystery." I gave her my best smoky smile, one which had melted the knees of more people than I could count.
Emily looked at me, head slightly tilted, eyes dark. "I really had no idea that the night was going to end like this."
"Who ever said it has to end here?" bubbled to my mouth almost before I could stop it. Then the anger which had propelled me this far made me say it anyway. The thought of being in a cold bed alone, just waiting for the nightmares, had nothing to do with it.
Emily just stood there for a moment before speaking. "I haven't got space in my life for a girlfriend." I noticed that she didn't say no.
My smile deepened, and I swayed forward half a step so that our lips were almost touching once more. Old habits again: I knew this dance too well. "Oh, *darling*," I purred. "Did I say *anything* about a relationship?" The very thought chilled like ice, almost throwing me out of the mood completely. Then I mustered myself. This would simply never do. "Simple, uncomplicated, not to mention very, *very* hot, sex is the only thing on offer tonight," I lingered over each word as though it were a fine wine. There, back in the zone.
Emily shivered. "Now, how could I resist an offer like that?"
"Your place or mine?"
"Mine's a little far away," she said. A lie. How fascinating. If not entirely unexpected. Emily did seem to be rather a private person.
We both had our cars, so I led the way after giving her directions to my apartment. As it turned out, I needn't have bothered with the directions -- she had absolutely no trouble keeping up with me. I wondered idly if that would be an omen. You could tell a lot about someone from the way they handled a car, and Emily seemed to be that rarest of creatures: a good driver. Perhaps her mysterious day job involved driving. I couldn't really see her as a chauffeur or a delivery girl, though. Racer? Hmm... No, not likely. Whatever she did for a living, I'd wager it was something that involved her mind. A couple of hours' snarky commentary and an evening's conversation were enough to tell me that she was the kind of woman who thrived on intellectual stimulation. If she was anything at all like me -- and in that regard, I suspected she might be -- she would go stark staring mad without it.
In both too short and too long a time, we reached my humble abode. This was it. Telling myself that the rapidity of my heartbeat was due to excitement and not nervousness, I was out of my car before she'd even set her parking brake. By the time she looked over in my direction, I was leaning against the wall in an artfully casual pose. She smiled at me as she slid out of the car.
"Fancy meeting you here."
"Indeed." I didn't smile back at her, instead quirking an eyebrow in an expression of challenge. Her smile deepened in response, proving that I'd read her correctly. (Well of course I had -- I'm Emma Frost.) Closing her car door firmly, she turned back to face me and that's when I pounced. Surging forward, I pressed her back against the car, using the full length of my body to keep her in place. There was a brief moment when she stiffened and I thought she was going to push me away, but she yielded before I could release her. A quick mental scan confirmed that her reaction was caused by surprise, rather than by unwillingness (mental note: good reflexes backed up by self-defence training), and so I continued as planned.
Twining my arms around her neck, I kissed her gently, just the merest brush of my lips on hers. It wasn't at all what she was expecting, but then where's the fun in giving someone what they expect? She started to say something, but I covered her mouth with mine, swallowing the words before they could emerge into the cold night air; smothering them with heat. I could sense that *this* was what she'd expected, what she wanted, what she *craved*. My lips on hers with almost bruising intensity; tenderness banished by passion's fire. My nails rested on the back of her neck. I drew them lightly over the soft skin as I caught her lower lip between my teeth. She responded... My god, was she responsive, a moan emerging from somewhere deep in her throat as she returned my passion with her own. I did so love that in a woman. And this was just a kiss. I wasn't planning on staying out here for long, but in the end several minutes went by before I broke off the kiss and pulled back, gratified beyond measure by the small, disappointed sound she made as I stepped away.
"It's cold out here. Care to come up and see me?" The reference was, of course, completely intentional.
"Lead the way." Her hair may have been slightly mussed, her pupils large and liquid with desire, but her expression was composed and her voice was perfectly level, if a little husky. She certainly recovered herself quickly. I'd have to see what I could do to break her composure a little more thoroughly. A rather predatory smile curved my lips as I led her into the building. I did so *love* a challenge.
We took the stairs, rather than the elevator. All part of setting the proper mood. The kiss outside was to whet her appetite; this simulated chase was to maintain it. Not to mention giving her a great view of my arse and legs. Besides, physical exercise was supposed to work up an appetite.
Soon enough, we stood at the door. I held her gaze with mine as I unlocked it. "This is me." I gestured for her to precede me, quashing a small tremor of unease that threatened to rear its ugly head. This wasn't letting someone into my inner sanctum; this was gaining the advantage of home ground. Emily was on my territory here: that meant my rules. I watched her for a moment as she surveyed the small apartment. Her eyes flickered as she seemed to almost automatically trace over everything visible. The unease returned as I realised that the apartment was a little messier than I'd like. I'd obviously have to fix that, I mused. I wouldn't want anyone to think that I was a slob, after all. Certainly not my intriguing new acquaintance. Alas, short of a telepathic illusion there was little I could do to hide the appalling state of my apartment, so instead I attempted to distract her by running my fingers down her back.
"Let me help you with your coat."
She looked back at me a little jerkily. "I'm sure I can manage," she said, stepping away as she started to undo buttons.
"I'm sure you can," I replied, gliding after her in pursuit, moving around in front of her. "But a good hostess sees to her guest's every need."
Her fingers stilled as I covered her hands with my own. She didn't resist as I moved them away and placed them on my hips, curling her fingers around my curves without prompting.
"My every need?" she enquired.
"I'm all about the proper observance of etiquette," I breathed, continuing from where she left off with her unbuttoning.
Again, there was the slight stiffening, more sensed this time than actually physically felt; the almost-resistance that she banished with a conscious act of will. I knew she wanted to be here -- sweet mystery or not, there are some things a girl really had to be sure of -- so what was the barrier for? Maybe it was just that she was used to being the one in control. Well, I'm afraid that wasn't on the cards this evening. Sliding my hands beneath her coat, I made sure to brush my thumbs over her collarbones, my fingertips over her shoulders. Leaning in to lift the garment from her, I brushed her earlobe with my lips in the lightest of kisses.
"You have beautiful skin," I whispered. It was the kind of flawless that rich women with nothing better to do paid a fortune for, suffering through chemical treatments and mud baths and god knew what else, but she was completely natural. If I didn't have so many good features of my own, I might almost be envious.
"Thank you," she murmured back. "So do you." And then she kissed my neck. Well, that was just cheating. A totally underhanded, unexpected, unorthodox -- utterly divine! -- deceitful move that I absolutely just *had* to respond to.
"Mmmm..." Not that kind of response. Well, yes, *that* kind of response, but I couldn't let the move go unchallenged. That would simply never do. So, I nipped at her earlobe with my teeth, sliding a hand beneath the velvet of her top -- so soft -- to rake my nails lightly over her back. Ha! A point to me as she arched, letting out a startled gasp that was music to my ears. I took advantage of her distraction to pay some strategic attention to her neck. Starting just behind her ear, I trailed a line of kisses down to her collarbone, licking my way back up and then blowing gently on the sensitised skin before bringing my teeth to bear. She was breathing hard now, her pulse rapid beneath my lips. Distantly, I was aware of her fingers digging into my hips. I wondered if she would leave bruises. I was pretty damn sure I was going to, at the very least, and she was certainly wasn't complaining. Time to increase the intensity.
I yanked the coat the rest of the way off her one-handed, throwing it over a nearby box. (I didn't have a proper coat stand yet, and there weren't any hooks. Besides, it looked like a fairly sturdy coat. It would be fine.)
"Do you want any refreshments?" I punctuated my words with kisses and nibbles, bringing my now-unoccupied hand around to her torso, where I promptly found something to occupy it. Mmmm... Firm... "Or shall we retire for the evening?"
She gave a breathless laugh, sliding one hand down to cup my arse as she pulled me tighter against her with the other. "What if I want a coffee? Or... Mmmm... A cheese sandwich?"
I knew I liked her. I kissed my way back up to her ear, to murmur: "I'm afraid I seem to be all out of coffee and sandwiches at the moment. Can I offer Madame an alternative menu item?"
"That depends." She located my coat buttons, starting to open them with dextrous ease, despite my best efforts to distract her. That really was quite unacceptable.
The offending hand stilled as I nipped her sharply on the neck, and she gave a very satisfactory moan. I smiled, and kissed it better. "On what?" I breathed against her skin.
As her hand started its movement again, I thought that perhaps her persistence should be rewarded rather than punished. After all, I couldn't help but agree with her unspoken but clearly expressed thought that there were too many clothes in the way. I did my own part to remedy the situation, starting with her top. There was another short disagreement about who should be disrobing whom, but I'm happy to say that my point of view prevailed. I think the deciding factor was when I dropped to my knees to kiss her stomach, just below the belly button. (I have to admit that I did cheat a little, but it's hardly my fault if she was broadcasting what she'd really like me to do right then.)
Somehow she still managed to reply. "Do you have an alternative menu item?" she asked, her voice a little muffled as I eased the velvet garment off over her head.
It took me a second to remember what she was referring to, and then I was torn between amusement and irritation at her self possession. Amusement won. "Can't you guess?" The top went the way of the coat, although I was a little more careful with that than I had been with the other. Luckily, it landed where it was supposed to. Next came the bra, but I had a little trouble with the fastening. Well, I *was* working blind, not to mention multitasking. (Since I was leaning forward anyway, I took the opportunity to bestow some attention on her cleavage -- the kind that involved my lips and tongue. She seemed to appreciate it.) I think one of the hooks was caught on the material, or something. I could hardly just yank it -- I didn't want to ruin what was a reasonably nice undergarment unless I absolutely had to -- so I was forced to jiggle the stupid thing around until it finally worked free. On the plus side, all that movement led to other, rather pleasant jiggling. It might have been quite hypnotic to a lesser woman.
Finally managing to free those really rather attractive breasts from their unjust confinement, I held the bra up with an exclamation of triumph. Emily, the minx, took shameless advantage of my momentary distraction to cup my own breasts through my dress, pressing one leg between mine. Nylon slid smoothly over fishnets, and I couldn't help a shiver as she slowly brushed against me.
"Maybe you should tell me," she breathed. I have to admit that it took me a moment to recall that I'd asked her a question. I am reasonably certain that someone else would have been quite undone by that exquisite friction. I, however, possess one advantage that all those other women lack: I am Emma Frost. And, to paraphrase an acquaintance of mine: I am pretty bloody good at what I do.
Turnabout being fair play, I twisted around slightly, taking advantage of our position -- and the fact that her skirt had gotten hiked up at some point during the proceedings -- to slip my hand between her parted legs. I can't deny that what she was doing was very nice indeed, but it was nothing to what I could manage with my fingers. I was extremely pleased to discover how wet she was already, the evidence of her arousal soaking straight through panties and tights. It really made me feel rather appreciated.
"Well, darling," I drawled, pressing my fingers against her core as I traced slow circles over her clitoris with my thumb. "I was planning on fucking you senseless." As she shuddered and gasped, I bent my head to her breasts, eliciting a moan as I drew a nipple into my mouth and caressed it with my tongue.
"I, ah! I think that would be an... Mmmm... An acceptable alternative to hot coffee." The woman was still capable not only of speech, but of humour. How utterly frustrating. I dipped my mind into hers and confirmed that I really was performing to my usual standard. I was now officially imp... My train of thought got a little derailed as she palmed my breasts again, stroking them through the suddenly too-thick material of my dress and bra. I took a breath and focussed. It occurred to me that we were both wearing *far* too many clothes for this stage in the proceedings. I released the nipple, rather enjoying the disappointed groan she gave in response to the withdrawal of my tongue. Unfortunately for her, I was taught not to speak with my mouth full.
"I'm glad you approve. Now let's go to bed: I want you naked and writhing beneath me."
"That's funny," she breathed. "I was just thinking the same about you."
I chuckled throatily as I led her by one hand to the bedroom. (Walking backwards so I could leave said hand where it was, fingers still working between her legs. She didn't seem to be complaining.) "Sorry," I said, my voice sweet with fake regret. "Winner's choice."
She looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" And then her whole face changed, eyes closing as she threw her head back, mouth falling open in a near-silent "Oh!" I could feel her pulsing against my slick fingers, hot and wet and just so unutterably sexy as she stood there naked from the waist up, breasts quivering in time with the ebbing shudders travelling through her body. I held her as her knees sagged a little, supporting her over the short distance between here and my bedroom. She sank down onto the bed and I busied myself removing her boots while she was still distracted. When I glanced up again, she'd recovered her equanimity and was looking at me thoughtfully. "Winner's choice?" she enquired.
I patted her knee, standing up to (rather belatedly) remove my coat. "I'm ahead on points, which makes me the winner. And for my prize, I choose to ravish you mercilessly." I smiled at her, and I'm sure the devil himself danced in my eyes. "You could try an appeal, but I have it on good authority that the judge is a stone-cold bitch."
"So, this is a game?" Something wicked glittered in her eyes, then, something dark and wild that made me shiver deep inside.
"Everything's a game, darling, and I play to win." More truth in that than I'd like, but what was said was said. To cover my momentary disquiet, I undid the sash at my waist and pulled my dress off over my head. Staring into her eyes made me feel as though I was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at the endless black ocean below. It was a disorienting, vertiginous sensation. I heard the bedsprings creak, and when I emerged from the woollen cocoon, she was standing in front of me. Taking the dress out of my hands, she laid it gently aside and ran her hands over the now-bare skin of my back.
"So do I," she said softly. She bent to bring her lips to mine, but I pushed her away. I didn't know why I did it: I just reacted without thinking, shoving hard against her shoulders so that she stumbled and sat back down on the bed. This was unacceptable. Emma Frost did not flake out during sex. Emma Frost was going to pull her shit together and get back in the zone. Emma Frost was going to make Emily Prentiss fucking *scream*.
Covering my momentary lapse, I followed Emily down onto the bed as if I'd planned it that way, pressing her into the yielding mattress beneath us and covering her body with my own. I kissed her with almost savage passion, starting with her lips and moving down her body, lingering on her neck, breasts and stomach. She responded with equal ardour, kissing me back until I broke away from her lips, then fumbling with the fastenings of my bra. She actually managed to half-undo it before I slid down out of reach.
"Come back here," she panted, reaching after me.
"I'm," a kiss, "rather," a trailing tongue, "busy." A sharp nip for emphasis.
Without warning, she raked her nails across my back, making me arch and shiver, half-closing my eyes at the sensation. Taking advantage of my momentary pause, she half-sat up, supporting herself on one hand as she used the other to finish divesting me of the troublesome item of clothing. "A point to me, I think," she murmured into my ear.
"Maybe," I conceded, thrilled by her determination. "But you didn't think this through."
"Oh? What do you mean?" She tossed the bra onto the bed, bracing herself in preparation for flipping us over. Unfortunately for her, I was faster.
With a wicked smile, I demonstrated, putting lips and tongue, not to mention teeth to work on the breasts that she had dangled so temptingly in front of my face. Now, her muscles tensed for whole other reasons. I eased her back down onto the thoroughly ruffled duvet, moving us up the bed a little to reduce the risk of unfortunate accidents. (Sadly, this was the voice of experience talking, and not one I wished to repeat. Bruises upon one's derriere were not the most romantic of mementos.) Now she was at least temporarily distracted, I could continue lavishing upon her the attention she deserved, rendering her completely at my mercy. My hands roamed freely over the sweat and saliva-slicked skin of her torso, teasing and caressing on their way towards the waistband of her skirt. Tangling my fingers in the material, I slid skirt, tights and panties down her legs, trailing kisses in their wake. I paused when I reached her crotch, bestowing only a single, feather light kiss -- a promise of things to come -- before continuing on my way.
She groaned aloud. "Tease," she accused.
"Yes," I agreed. Nipping lightly at the skin of her inner thighs, I noted with satisfaction how she gasped and writhed beneath me. "But don't worry darling, I fully intend to satisfy you."
Throwing the bundle of clothing onto the rug, I knelt at the foot of the bed, very lightly brushing my fingertips against the damp folds between her thighs before running my hands slowly down the full length of her firmly muscled legs. She had *great* legs. I idly bet they'd look fantastic in black fishnets and killer heels, but that was a project for another time. Right now, I *really* wanted to make her come again.
Impatience may have been threatening to get the better of me, but my pride would not allow me to do this any other way than perfectly. First, I lightly drew my nails over the soles of her feet in a way I knew would be almost, but not quite, ticklish. (It was the 'not-quite' that made *all* the difference. Judging from her reaction, Emily agreed.) Second, I took my time kissing and stroking my way back up her legs, trailing my tongue over the moist, quivering skin of her inner thighs until she was almost ready to scream from frustration alone. Third, I simply... stopped, hovering there above my goal until she tilted her head up to look at me with an expression that was part confusion, part annoyance. I just smiled, waiting for the perfect moment to make my move. Any second now...
She drew breath to speak, but I covered her with my mouth, turning whatever she'd been about to say into a strangled, wordless exclamation. She wanted this, *needed* it; her desire washing over me like a physical thing. I opened myself to the sensation, delighting in the way her mind pulsed and shuddered in counterpoint to her body's responses. I was already wet, but my core throbbed in response to her reaction, sending pleasant tingles all the way through my body. God, I'd missed this. I stroked her engorged clitoris with my tongue, reaching up to cup one of her breasts with one hand. My other hand was busy between her legs, fingers tracing circles around her entrance. I could feel the pressure building within her, muscles bunching and releasing. I pressed my mouth against her, flicking my tongue faster and faster so that she gasped and panted and tangled her fingers in my hair. Almost... Almost... Now! I slid a finger inside her, slipping easily through the slick heat, the feel of it enough to tip her right over the edge of that precipice. She flung her head back and *screamed*, her mind whiting out with the intensity of it. I had to bite my lip to hold in an answering cry, shuddering right along with her. It was intense.
She was intense.
I kissed my way back up her body as she quivered; smiling fiercely down at her as she finally stilled and opened her eyes. "Welcome back."
"Wow," she muttered, blinking a few times.
"You're welcome." I couldn't keep a note of smugness from my voice, but I think any reasonable person would agree that there was just cause for it.
Narrowing her eyes, she met my gaze with an expression of determination. "Your turn now."
"Hmmm, I don't think so." I partially withdrew my finger from where it still nestled, curling it a little to make her twitch and gasp. "I'm not finished with you yet." Backing up my words with action, I added a second finger to the first, thrusting deep inside her again and again and again. I fucked her with my hand until she cried out for a second time, watching her face as she writhed beneath me, just as I wanted. Like I told her: I play to win. Afterwards, she fell back with a sigh, sprawling limp and languid on the bed as I withdrew my fingers from her molten core. Had I really worn her out? I had her pegged for more endurance than that. I propped myself up on an elbow, running my gaze over her deliciously naked body. Her limbs were tangled in the duvet, her hair spread out on the pillow like a fallen angel's halo, tousled and tangled. It suited her. She was the perfect picture of blissful satiation, which is why it quite took me by surprise when she pounced.
Before I knew it, I was the one sprawled on the bed, being quite thoroughly and enjoyably kissed. I have to admit that I wasn't precisely complaining about this turn of events. After all: I was quite convincingly ahead on points. A low, pleased sound rumbling in the back of my throat, I surrendered myself to her skilful ministrations.
Much as I'd suspected, she was *very* good with her hands.
Afterwards, we lay there in my bed, side by side, our breathing the only sound in the darkened room. We'd never gotten around to turning on the light, so the only illumination was a thin wedge of brightness spilling in from the hallway. It was... nice. Companionable. My eyes started to drift shut, only to snap wide open as my breath caught in my throat. No, it was claustrophobic. Smothering. I couldn't do this. I felt myself tense; couldn't stop my body drawing in on itself. I wrapped my arms tightly around my knees and fought to keep my breathing even and slow. The bedsprings shifted as Emily moved in response to my change of position. I felt her half-turn towards me, and then away, rolling all the way over and getting out of bed. I turned to watch as she padded around the room, stooping to gather up her discarded garments. A couple of times she stopped and turned in my direction, drawing in a breath as if she was about to speak, but each time she let it out again without saying a word. Bundle in hand, she turned around a couple of times, casting her gaze over the floor. When she moved into the light I could see that she was frowning.
I uncurled, propping myself up on my elbows. "If you're looking for the rest of your clothes," I drawled smugly, "I think they ended up somewhere in the hall."
She flashed me a look. "Thanks," she said a little sardonically. She turned to go, then her shoulders softened, and she looked back towards me, a lopsided smile quirking her lips. "For everything."
I flashed an answering smile, recovering my equilibrium, or at least doing a good job of faking it. "My pleasure," I said, drawing the words out a little.
I couldn't be certain given the light, but I do rather believe that I managed to score a blush off of her. She ducked out into the hallway, returning with the rest of her clothing. "I'm afraid I have to go," she said, an uncertain note in her voice as she got dressed.
I could leave it at that. I knew I probably should leave it at that. And if I did, I knew that we'd never see each other again, that we'd just be a sweet memory of a night of pleasure to each other, a bittersweet thought of what might have been. Maybe a few pleasurable dreams. And that would be for the best. All I had to do was say goodbye at the appropriate place, let her go, and that would be that.
"Before you go, the least I can do is offer you that coffee that I promised earlier," I said, my tone making it clear that I wouldn't be taking no for an answer.
I never was very good at taking my own best advice.
A short while later, we were both seated at my kitchen table, each holding a steaming cup of coffee. She was fully dressed, while I was swathed in a soft white robe with satin trim. I liked this robe: it was stylish, yet comfortable.
Emily contemplated her cup of coffee thoughtfully before looking back up at me. "I'm not used to having one-night stands with people I actually like," she admitted a little ruefully.
I smiled involuntarily at being told that she liked me. It wasn't that I didn't already know. But still, it hadn't seemed quite real until I had heard the words. "Then isn't it time to broaden your horizons a little, darling?"
She shot me an unhappy glance, sighed and took a sip of her coffee. Setting the cup firmly down on the table, she closed her eyes for a moment and then looked up, meeting my enquiring gaze. "I have a job that has irregular hours at best, that often requires me to fly out with little or no warning and just doesn't leave me enough energy for much outside of it. Especially a relationship. Especially the kind of relationship that a woman like you deserves."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," I murmured before I could stop myself, then ignored Emily's questioning look. "I'm still not sure that I see a problem here. As I've already mentioned, I'm not in the market for a girlfriend, and I have *plenty* of experience with keeping things at the casual sex level." I ignored the voice that said that I hadn't exactly liked any of those people either.
She regarded me doubtfully. "You really think that this can work?"
"Would I be making this invitation if I wasn't?" Actually, hang on, why *was* I making this offer?
"I've not known you for that long, but lack of self confidence doesn't appear to be one of your defining flaws."
"I can see why you have to fend off girls at every turn."
She laughed. "Okay, you win."
"I usually do," I smiled at her smugly. "Besides, where else can you get this level of conversation?"
She raised an eyebrow in my direction. "Do you really want an answer to that?"
I laughed. "Now I can't possibly let you go. I enjoy sparring with you far too much."
"And what are your thoughts on occasional bouts of sex as we both feel like it?"
"Amazingly hot sex, please." I was almost offended.
"Fair enough. Occasional bouts of amazingly hot sex as we both feel like it."
I pretended to think about it, determinedly ignoring the knives digging into my stomach. "I could be persuaded," I said a little coyly.
She finished off her coffee and stood up. "In any case, I'd definitely be interested in meeting up again. I'll let you know as and when my schedule gives me an opening."
I stood up as well. "Leaving?"
"Unfortunately," she sighed, then came over and touched my shoulders lightly with her hands. "Thank you for an absolutely fantastic evening."
She didn't move to kiss me, and I didn't offer. It felt like too much intimacy all of a sudden. I smiled and waved, and she left my apartment.
I sat back down at the table, clutching my coffee cup with both hands. What was I doing? How could a woman I'd just met and barely knew have this effect on me? Why did I even care? Maybe I just liked to torture myself, with the sweetest and sharpest pains. It would hardly be out of character. But I couldn't follow that line of thought any further, so I poured the rest of the coffee down the sink and went to bed.
The nightmares came again, as they almost always did; only this time tinged with a little more guilt than normal. And if my eyes were wet when I awoke, then it was obviously sweat from my perfect brow. It couldn't be anything else.