So, I know it's been a while... Life got kinda busy! Maybe I'll tell y'all about it sometime. But last weeks episode of CM was both awesome and awful. So much so that it made me, literally made me have to write. So, a short one to ease back into the Jemily world that I miss so much!
This comes after A Southern Romance.
Disclaimer... I own nothing, sadly. Seriously, I lament this fact often.
My favourite way to spend time since she moved in was to watch her whirl around the kitchen; raven hair tied into an adorably messy ponytail, hips swaying to the music flowing through the house, lips tugged up in a content smirk as she mouthed the words to the song. It didn't matter what she was rustling up, Emily Prentiss definitely had a frenetic yet entirely soothing way of cooking. Every now and then she would turn and flash a disarming smile my way, filled with promises and adoration; a heady mix that set my heart racing as my knees weakened. Domestic Emily was certainly a sight to behold.
A stark contrast to the quiet confidence she exuded in the office or the strong leader she was in the field. This Emily was mine and mine alone.
A quirky dork that was unafraid to be herself, fearless in her love of me. Finally comfortable in her own skin, a feat that had been decades in the making. Yes, this was undeniably my favourite way to spend my time.
"I'll develop a complex if you keep watching me that way. Am I doing something wrong?" I look up into deep brown eyes, sparkling with a sweet humour that I always miss when it disappears.
"You're perfect," I breath unsteadily. Her eyebrow raises softly as she puts down the spatula, wiping her hands on the towel over her shoulder.
"Wow. You like my cooking that much?" The gentle probing of concern in her eyes belies the light delivery of the question.
"Yes. It's my favourite." I revel in the lilting chuckle that drifts my way.
"No more wine for you, Miss Jareau. Clearly you've had enough." I push aside the wine glass and lean over the small island I'm sat at. As if pulled by my want, she meets me in a delicate kiss.
"Never enough," I whisper into her mouth. I'm rewarded with a low groan as her tongue swipes over my bottom lip, demanding access that I'm in no position to refuse. When her lips ghost over my chin to my neck, I loosen the band holding her hair back and tangle my fingers in ebony locks. As whisps tickle my nose, I know that this is my favourite smell; lavender shampoo and sandalwood soap mixed with a scent that is uniquely my Emily. Both comforting and arousing at the same time. I pray there is never a time that I'm not surrounded by this tantalising smell.
"You are so beautiful, Jennifer." Her teeth graze my earlobe as her cheek presses to mine. I pull back slowly and marvel at this extraordinary woman.
"Take me to bed, Em." Her lips part for a second as the command makes its way into her head then with a quick nod she whips around to turn two dials on the stove and hit the 'off' button for the oven. I laugh as she rounds the island and wraps her arms around my waist, dragging me with her towards the stairs.
We make it to the bedroom in record time and minus both our shirts and my bra. I take the lead and guide her to the bed, following her when her knees hit the mattress and she falls back. Lacing heavy kisses down the column of her throat to her chest, I manage to unhook her bra and manoeuvre it off, discarding it on the floor. Free of constraint, I lick around a pebbled nipple before blowing softly. Fingers scratch against my scalp, begging in the most delicious way to take what is mine. I oblige swiftly. Sucking the bud against my teeth, I feel Emily arch against me, hips desperately seeking some kind of friction.
I make my way to the other nipple, lavishing even more attention to it than the previous one, before continuing my southerly journey. She helps me remove the barrier of pants and panties, and then spreads herself wide for me. My breath lodges in my chest at the sheer magnificence of the brunette beneath me. At her whimper I resume my task and lower myself between her legs, mouth watering at her glistening center. As my tongue sweeps over her, I know that this is my favourite flavour. No sickly sweet candy or savoury entree could ever compete to the delightfully tangy flavour that is her. I can never get enough of her. Almost too soon her thighs tighten around my head, riding the euphoric high I had pushed her to as she cries my name in abandon.
The desperation and need with which she utters my name can only ever be my favourite sound. Not a single person, except me, gets to hear that sound; the unbound and unleashed Emily Prentiss. Undone and uninhibited. Free to fly. Truly better than an angelic chorus greeting the break of day.
I roll onto my back, pulling her against me, smiling as her ragged pant mists over my chest and throat.
"What is that smile about?" She asks softly, breathlessly.
"You, Miss Prentiss, are absolutely my favourite."
"Favourite what?" She queries, rising onto an elbow. I grin up at her and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"My favourite everything, of course."