A/N: Just as a note of caution- this chapter does not have a Lemon scene but something similar to it. If that bothers you, feel free to stop reading.
Scott stopped just inside his apartment, trying to make sense of what had just happened in the last hour. Even though he nearly had his head knocked off by a former football player and it was still ringing a little bit, there was no way he could forget what happened in the last couple of minutes.
In simple terms- he had kissed an FBI agent.
Scott didn't exactly know why and how he ended up kissing Agent Emily Prentiss; one moment, he was trading insults and barbs with her (and, if he could toot his own horn, kicking her well-toned ass) and the next he was locking lips with a woman who not an hour earlier had called him, perhaps deservedly, an asshole.
He could remember the two of them somehow both slowly moving closer to each other. Every wit and and barb that was exchanged had steadily increased the sexual tension between them. It had gotten to the point where Scott was sure she was going to punch him even harder than Chris had. Instead, he found himself playing tickle-the-tonsil with her.
Okay, maybe that was a bit much. In truth, it had only lasted a few seconds. But... the hell with lying- those few seconds had been some of the best he had ever had in his life, certainly when it came to kissing.
When he was with Suzy, kisses were nothing special. She'd pounce on him, tackle him to the bed, play mould-your-mouth with him for a few seconds, then break off and give a big smile that said 'see how good a kisser I am? Alright, enough of that! Let's screw!' The enthusiasm had been there, but the passion sure hadn't.
By contrast, when he'd kissed Emily Prentiss, he felt passion. He'd felt fireworks, chemistry. He'd felt it was real. He felt like he was kissing a woman, not a hormonally-charged teenage girl.
And she was a woman, there was no denying that. Scott wasn't sure why she had become so defensive when she thought he was calling her old; she sure as hell didn't look old. He had rationalized in his mind that she was several years older than he was, maybe even as much as ten, but hardly enough to call her old. In fact, she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen in his life. Hard-headed, but strong, passionate and very attractive.
Scott's mind was abruptly pulled back to reality by the pressure in his lower body. Bathroom, his bladder urged. Stripping off his shirt, he walked to the room in question and stood over the toilet, but found, much to his frustration, that relieving himself was impossible; his erection was still rock hard, rendering him unable to piss. Scott waited for several minutes but with the taste of Emily Prentiss' lips still on his own, the blood saw no reason to go anywhere. With a frustrated groan, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, hoping cold water would relax the muscles.
The shock wasn't so great as that of the showers at his old high school, but it was enough to take his mind off the dark-haired federal agent at least for a moment. Scott gave a sigh of relief as his muscles loosened up and his member slowly deflated.
All the same, he wasn't sure why she had had this effect on him. Sure she was beautiful. Sure she was strong. Sure she could match him easily when it came to verbal exchanges. Sure she... damn, come to think of it, she was a pretty amazing woman!
Realistically, however, Scott believed it was probably more a fan-boy fantasy talking, sort of like a student having a crush on a teacher. What kind of FBI agent would get involved with a witness to a crime? It just wasn't supposed to happen. Plus, there was nothing to stop her from arresting him for sexual harassment or something of the kind.
That, of course, would most likely be after she kicked his ass, threw him to the ground and handcuffed him all in the space of a few seconds. She had proven to be able to take down men bigger and stronger than him. A trained federal agent versus a bicycle courier whose idea of a first blow was to punch a guy's abs of steel? Yeah- not much of a contest.
The thought of her arresting him pushed its way into his mind.
Manhandling him.
Handcuffing him.
Damn, that actually wouldn't be a bad way to go!
The shit-eating grin that crossed his face only lasted a few seconds when another throb emanated from his bladder; he looked down and saw the effects of his last line of thought- his penis was aroused again, bigger and harder than ever. He sighed heavily. "Shit."
It took another ten minutes to block all thoughts of Special Agent Emily Prentiss long enough to calm himself down. As he stepped out of the shower towards the toilet he breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of urine started.
After all, it was just sexual tension between himself and a strong woman he knew he could piss off that he was feeling.
Wasn't it?
Emily rapidly closed the door to her hotel room. Breathing heavily from the brisk walk up the stairs, she leaned against it for several moments, trying to collect her thoughts.
She needed to clear her head. She needed to get her mind focused again.
Walking with purpose, she stripped out of her outer clothes and strode into the bathroom. She turned the taps on to the coldest it would go, splashing water over face three times before shutting it off. Taking several deep breaths, she looked up at her reflection in the mirror, trying to sort out what had just happened in the last hour.
She had kissed a witness to a federal crime.
What the hell was wrong with her? How had she allowed that to happen? Why had she kissed him right back?
She couldn't imagine a time in her career when she had done anything more unprofessional, inappropriate, unacceptable... what the hell had she been thinking? So much for not giving Strauss a reason to fire her. If word ever got out about what she'd done, she could kiss... Ugh! That word again!
Emily shook her head. She needed to refocus her mind, get back in the zone. She needed to be Special Agent Emily Prentiss of the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit, not some high school girl who obsessed over every good-looking man she encountered. If she did that, she'd have to be committed to a mental institution.
But damn it, he was pretty good-looking.
"Stop!" She ordered herself out loud. This was ridiculous. She was describing a guy who was the most immature, annoying, hard-headed person she'd ever met- and that was quite an achievement.
Giving her head another shake, she decided what she needed was a cold shower- one that would cleanse both her body and her mind of what had happened during the evening.
Stripping out of her black lace bra and panties, she stepped into the shower and turned the temperature as far to the right as it would go. The sudden shock of ice startled her at first and caused her to cry out, but she soon found it soothing and gave her a distraction to focus on.
Bastard. She cursed the man named Scott Jackson. Cursed him for getting on her nerves, in her head. Cursed him for getting past her defences so easily. Cursed him for breaking her down, making her vulnerable and then exploiting it.
She lathered some shampoo in her hair and then rinsed it out, her long black locks hanging down her back. In all likelihood, she thought, the guy was just trying to get into her pants, make her a notch on his belt. He probably had a bet going on with his friends as to who could screw the most women in a week or something. Well, she sure wasn't going to allow herself to be christened as some damn MILF by a guy seeking an easy lay. She was a woman, not a trophy.
Most girls come to this place in groups to avoid being sought after like trophies, he had told her. Few succeed.
Well, she had braved the place alone and succeeded, hadn't she? Remember that, you arrogant, immature bastard.
Grabbing the body-wash, she lathered it all over her body. Her hands moved across her firm abdomen, tight ass and strong legs- all results of Morgan's gruelling but effective training sessions. She made a mental note to thank him for it.
Her hands travelled back upwards. Her brain intended for her to soap her chest and arms. Something else took control of her muscles, however; they travelled closer and closer together, inching their way upwards, until they eventually reached where her legs began.
Emily gasped.
A bolt of electricity shot through her nether regions, through her stomach and up into her torso. Her heart began racing as though she was in the middle of a run. In her entire life, she had never known her sex to be so sensitive to touch. She felt like she was thirteen years old again, just breaking into puberty and discovering what her new-found hormones were up to. Of course, at that time, 'exploring her body' was placed in the same category as abortion by the local priest- pretty much a one-way ticket straight to Hell. The mere reminder of it brought both regret and thrills as the same time.
Emily's breath caught in her throat as her fingers moved another inch upward. Upward, upward...
She all but cried out as they brushed over her clit. A wave of pleasure so strong flooded through her entire lower body, it was a miracle she didn't climax right there. As she rubbed her fingers back and forth slowly, she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see what was happening; she wanted to imagine it in her head.
Her mind raced faster and faster, the rate of her fingers following suite. Her brain flooded with images; as she began rocking her hips back and forth, she tried to imagine them stimulating her sex. She imagined them teasing the slit, sliding in for just a brief second and then withdrawing before doing it again. She could feel the muscles inside her contract and expand with perfect rhythm, her body teetering on the edge of oblivion.
A new image entered her mind. Another person's fingers moving in rhythm with her hips. A man's fingers... teasing her, pleasuring her. A young face with a small smirk and teasing eyes. A nice face.
Scott Jackson's face...
Emily threw her head back and gave a shriek of pleasure as the climax ripped through her body. Her inner muscles contracted around her fingers, bathing them in warmth. Blood raced throughout her body at a speed faster than a supersonic jet. In all her life, she had never had an orgasm that was as strong as that. It was powerful, mind-blowing...
It was... perfect.
As she came down off her high, Emily's eyes snapped back open and cast downwards; water and vaginal fluid were indistinguishable. The nerves in her body returned to normal; she was suddenly aware of the freezing water pouring over her back and that if she didn't get out soon, she was likely to catch a cold.
Emily turned the water off and hurriedly stepped out, grabbing a towel off the rack to dry off as she moved into the bedroom. It was a damn good thing that the walls in the building were largely soundproof, she thought. She hated having to explain the mysterious screams to Hotch or, worse, Reid.
She finished drying off and slipped into her T-shirt and black and red spotted pyjama bottoms. As she turned out the light and settled down in the bed, she hoped that sleep would come quickly and peacefully to her.
It's over. You got him out of your head. It wasn't anything- just built up tension. You won't ever have to see him again or worry about what would happen if anyone found out you kissed him.
Emily didn't allow herself to think about what she truly felt about that kiss.
That if her brain weren't in the way of her heart and stomach, she would do it again in a heartbeat.
A/N: Please review and give me feedback!
This chapter, plus the next one is kind of short, but I'm hoping quality wise they make up for it! Again, in-depth reviews are much appreciated!