Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.
AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!
Warning: dark&twisty and all that because it's Emily&Ian after all (slightly Emily&Aaron/Emily&Spencer) (set in the middle of season 4) /multi-chapter-story
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This is for the wonderful greeneyedconstellations: Thank you for everything.
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One Hand On The Trigger
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-"And if I'm right, we're headed straight for hell."- Miranda Lambert
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ONE
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II
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He's hiding in the shadows, watching her like the ghost he has become.
Asleep she almost looks innocent. Her flawless body tangled between the white satin sheets, the moonlight kissing her naked skin. Her dark hair spread out on the pillow.
He's longing to touch her, longing to make her his again, but it's neither the time nor the place. He shouldn't even be there, but he had to see her. Had to make sure.
He crosses the room slowly, wishing he could just lay down next to her. Bending forward, he allows his fingers to caress her skin ever so gently.
"I'm coming for you, love," he whispers hoarsely, his lips moving close against her ear. "I'm coming, love."
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She wakes with a start, reaching for the gun on her nightstand without a second thought, overwhelmed by the feeling of someone watching her.
She forces herself to lie still and stay quiet, her eyes scanning the room, but finding nothing.
With her gun raised between steady hands, Emily slips out from under the covers, making her way through her apartment and searching every room and every corner.
But there's no one there. No one but her and the shadows.
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III
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He's observing from afar, hidden in plain sight in the crowd gathered around the crime scene.
She's crouched down next to the dead woman in the dirt, talking to one of her team, her face hidden behind a curtain of silky black hair. She seems tired, her movements just the tiniest bit unsteady, and he's sure she hasn't slept in days.
With a smile on his lips he draws backwards, whispering a long forgotten name.
Lauren.
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She spins around instantly, her hands already reaching for her gun, her dark eyes searching the people gathered around the crime scene. Without really knowing it, she's searching for his face.
Searching for that crooked smile and that all too familiar pair of liquid blue eyes.
But he's not there.
Of course not.
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IV
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It's dark, the building mostly deserted, except for them.
Ian's watching through the blinds, and from where he's standing he has a perfect view of Emily, who's pushed down on the polished wooden desk of her supervisor. He holds her close, his hands tangled in her dark hair and his lips trailing down her neck.
It's not enough, Ian can tell. He hears the frustration in her voice when she begs him to do her harder, faster, sees the way she has his tie curled around her hand so tightly it cuts into her skin. She's pulling him closer with her legs wrapped around his waist, closer and closer, almost frantic, but finding no relief.
She's losing her patience along with her temper, and he watches as Emily slips her free hand down between her legs, trying to push herself over the edge.
"Soon, love," Ian promises, his lips moving without making a sound. "Soon."
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Emily's biting her lip to keep herself from crying out in frustration, piercing the tender flesh with her teeth until she draws blood.
It's not enough.
His hands are too soft, his movements too slow, too controlled, too eager to please her. It's not what she wants. It's not what she needs.
It's all wrong.
Before she can stop herself she lowers her hand, reaching down between her legs, too far gone to care, too desperate to wait a second longer. But it's not enough to bring her the sweet release she's longing for,and she feels angry tears start to well up in her eyes.
"Emily," Aaron whispers, all hushed and loving and she knows he's close.
It's a shadow out of the corner of her eye that makes her turn her head. But there's no one there, the office deserted at this time of the day.
Aaron comes and Emily shuts her eyes and pretends she does too.
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V
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He's in the parking garage, hiding behind a black SUV. His eyes following Emily on her way through the dark. She looks angry. Furious.
Someone's calling her name, begging her to slow down. It's not the one she fucks, but the one who's got a crush on her.
Ian spots her shake her head, motioning for the boy to leave her alone. He looks thrown, and for some reason, Emily does too.
She says something else, something that sounds pretty rude even from afar, before she turns, melting into the shadows. The boy blinks, confused and clearly startled, but he keeps looking anyway.
Starstruck.
Ian can't blame him.
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With her hands around the steering wheel, Emily's sitting in her car, her eyes closed shut.
She knows he's out there, knows he's hiding in the shadows of the FBI parking garage. Watching. Waiting.
And she knows he's been doing it for quite some time, knows for sure now because Clyde just called to let her know that Ian Doyle had vanished from prison.
I'm coming for you, love. I'm coming.
He couldn't have chosen a better time.
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VI
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He's leaning against the bar, watching her dance, watching as her body moves perfectly in sync to the music blaring from the speakers.
She's wearing a skimpy black dress that's barely a dress at all, hugging her flawless body in such a sinful way it's impossible to look away. She's not dancing alone, but with a younger woman, blonde hair, blue eyes and just as horny as Ian.
He's moving towards them slowly, taking in every move from the way Emily sways her hips ever so slightly, to the way she licks her lips, and all he wants to do is fuck her right then and there.
He slips his arm around her waist in one smooth move, pulling her backwards against his chest.
"Don't make a sound," he tells her firmly, his lips close against her ear while he pulls her with him and away from the dance floor. When they reach a corner, he spins her around, pushing her up and back against the wall.
"Hello, love," he murmurs thickly, before crashing his lips against hers.
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She doesn't stop him.
Not when he pushes her back up against the wall, not when he starts kissing her so hard that she tastes blood on her tongue, and most certainly not when he slips his hand under the hem of her little black dress, making her come hard and fast in the blink of an eye.
"You missed me, huh," Ian chuckles against her lips, when she tries to keep him from withdrawing his hand. He does anyway and Emily can't help but beg.
"Please," she whispers. "Ian, please."
It's been so long.
And she's not done yet.
"Patience, love," Ian mocks her tenderly, before he disappears into the crowd and out of sight.
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I
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"My name isn't Lauren," she states, her voice firm and her gaze steady when she bends over the table, close and closer until she can taste the bourbon on his breath. "My name is Emily."
"And what is it that you do, Emily?" Ian drawls, his blue eyes searching hers. Cold and dangerous. His gun raised.
There was no heaven waiting for her, only hell. But she'd fallen from grace a long time ago and she wasn't afraid of getting burned anymore.
"I'm working for Interpol," she breathes, selling him her soul with a smile on her face.
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Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to their rightful owners.