Disclaimer : Much as it pains me, I do not own the characters or the rights to the characters in this story; they are the property of CBS and affiliates. No infringement is intended. I do not, in any way, profit from this story. Any original characters are mine.

Rating: M for sexual content and adult language.

Spoilers: Many and plentiful, particularly for season six, and most particularly for episodes "Lauren" and "Valhalla."

Say My Name

Chapter One

"Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort, of feeling safe with a person: having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words..." -Dinah Maria Mulock

Ian Doyle, meet Lauren Reynolds.

Emily gripped the steering wheel of her SUV, pressing her foot a little harder to the gas pedal as the words of the beginning of another life raced through her head. She had to make the words stop, if only for a few moments. And she knew only one thing that would bring temporary relief from the name that haunted her days and owned her nights.

What is it you do, Lauren?

The needle on her speedometer zoomed up past eighty, Emily's boot smashing into the floorboad. The only coherent thought in her mind was how desperately she needed to obliterate all the other thoughts threatening at the edge of her sanity.

Get in the car, Lauren; the second one.

A strangled cry tore from Emily's throat, her knuckles now popping white against the steering wheel, her vehicle roaring down the dark, abandoned street. That awful, dreaded name pulsated through her mind, taunting and angry: Lauren Reynolds, Lauren Reynolds, Lauren Reynolds...

Then, all at once and just in time, Emily caught sight of her destination. Her body began to relax, her hands instinctively loosening their death grip. She felt the Rover begin to slow in anticipation of the stop she would soon make.

She couldn't with certainty say how she parked, or if she pulled her keys from the ignition. She was not sure if she locked her doors, nor could she remember the steps to the door of the house she approached. None of it mattered, except...

"Emily." The door was open before she even knocked, and standing in the doorway was her only hope of, however briefly, reclaiming herself.

Emily felt her face relax, into what was almost a smile. A real smile, not the kind you plaster on at work so that people won't ask questions. She took a step forward, and immediately felt herself being drawn into the familiar warmth of a friend and lover's embrace. Opening her arms, she returned the hug, gripping fiercely onto the only tangible evidence she had of any good in the world.

And she breathed his name. "Derek."

This was not the first time Emily had paid a late night visit to her work partner's home; although to be fair, Derek Morgan had paid at least as many visits to her house as she had to his. Not that it was a regular thing - usually, a visit this late meant that something was not right with one or both members of the duo.

Such as the time that Derek had been accused of and arrested for murder, and confronted his childhood abuser - in the same week. Or when Emily's close friend had died, forcing her to face painful memories from her adolescent years. Every year on the anniversary of the death of Derek's father. For two weeks straight after Emily had been held captive, tortured and beaten on Benjamin Cyrus' compound.

It was an arrangement that worked. There were no rules, other than the unwritten one. Neither one asked, "What's wrong?" There were no questions, no attempts to right the wrongs. There was only the solace of one another's arms, the comfort of knowing that there was a safe place to go, where pleasure was certain and fear did not exist.

And now, in this moment, Emily had never in her life been more overwhelmingly grateful for anything or anyone.

Tilting her head up, Emily's lips caught Derek's in a long, tender kiss. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him as close to her as possible. She felt her breath catch in her throat as his tongue brushed her lower lip, just as he crushed her to him, her sensitive breasts pressing into the solid strength of his chest.

Derek cradled Emily's face in his hands, his thumb gently smoothing her cheek as he deepened the kiss. Moaning, Emily pushed harder into him, reaching between them to grasp his manhood through the thin fabric of his sweat pants. She felt him grow impossibly hard against her hand.

And then she felt him pull back. Not physically, but she could always tell when he was trying to pull in the reigns, trying to regain some control. Sighing with frustration into his mouth, Emily shoved her hand past the waistband of his pants and began to stroke Derek's already straining cock with her palm, using fingers and thumb to add pressure.

A strangled, unintelligable noise escaped Derek's lips just before he grasped Emily's wrist hard with one hand. "Princess, you gotta stop," he whispered desperately against her neck, "Or this is not gonna be any fun for you at all."

Emily's entire body was throbbing with need, her nerve endings all set on fire. Her sex was literally soaked with desire, and she knew it had to be now. She ripped open her shirt, exposing creamy satin and lace clad breasts, heaving with each gasping breath she drew. And yet in the back of her mind... Lauren, is it? "Derek, I need you. Now. Please." Her hands were already on the fly of her jeans, fumbling with the buttons there.

Derek swallowed hard, reaching behind Emily to unsnap her bra. Pulling her close again, he murmered against her ear, "Are you sure, baby? You don't want to slow down and take our time here?"

The erotic mix of sensations - Derek's hot breath in her ear, his deft fingers making quick work of her bra, and the skin of his deliciously sculpted torso pressed against her flat stomach were driving her crazy, along with that same mocking voice in her head: Hello, Lauren. She had to eradicate that voice, drive it from her mind. "No, Derek. No, please, please, God please, fuck... fuck me..."

And with that, her bra was on the floor, replaced by Derek's hands on each of her breasts, his thumbs drawing circles on her super sensitive nipples. Emily cried out at the sensation, grinding her pelvis against Derek's in a vain attempt at some release.

Growling low in her throat, Emily reached down with both hands and swiftly yanked Derek's pants down past his hips until they fell to the ground at his feet. She heard a groan escape him as he realized what she'd done, and he temporarily abandoned his attention to her breasts to help her slide her jeans down her own hips, along with her soaked lace panties. She quickly stepped out of them and kicked them aside. Reaching out once more, she took hold again of Derek's impressive manhood, guiding him to where she needed him most.

Derek was panting now, but doing his best to keep some control, and he managed to gain enough to utter one word, a question meant as a sign of respect and endearment. "Bed?" He tenderly brushed Emily's bangs away from her forehead, and gave her a sweet, chaste kiss on her lips.

Emily felt tears threaten the backs of her eyes, and she smiled up at her partner. It was such a small gesture, yet to her it meant everything.

Still, she shook her head, and gripping Derek's shoulder's with both hands, she whispered, "No. Take me here." Remind me of who I am.

Derek swallowed hard and nodded, then used one arm to swiftly lift Emily up against the wall and hold her there, his other hand resting on her hip. "Are you ready?" He asked, looking into her eyes. And Emily knew that if she said no, he would get dressed and fall asleep with her in his arms, without a second thought.

She knew this, the way she knew that two plus two equals four, the way she knew that oxygen was needed for life. Derek was her partner, her friend. She knew that she could trust him with every fiber of her being, every piece of her soul. And she knew that she could trust him to stop, if that was what she needed. If she wasn't ready.

But she was ready. So very ready.

There was just one more thing.

"Derek... say my name."

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