Author's Note: ...if you don't hate me already, you might after the end of this chapter - you know, the part that will earn the M-rating this story already has. I'm prepared to explain myself, as always, but really, I'm going somewhere with all this madness, and it's a place I'm certain you all will (eventually) like. And hey, this chapter's a longer one, too! So hopefully that'll give you more to enjoy. :)

Disclaimer in Chapter One!

"You know what I'm about to ask you."

Emily stared at him for a long moment, watching as he strode into her apartment without much fanfare. She didn't know whether to laugh or be angry. Instead, she settled with a quiet shake of her head. "Sure, come right on in," she murmured under her breath, her infamous dry wit bleeding through her tone.

Hotch bit back a smirk. He was here for serious business, he reminded himself. Serious, his conscience screamed, as he took in Emily's attire; black yoga pants and a thin red silk top that was just begging him to come closer, to touch, to feel.

Serious.

Heart pounding, he waited until Emily padded back into her kitchen before speaking once more. "Why'd you do it?"

Emily's smile was rueful as she leaned against her counter; the same counter she remembered Hotch lifting her onto reverently, right before he spread her apart and –

Her elbows pressed against the marble, letting the coldness of the stone sink deep into her skin. "Oh, Aaron…" A heavy sigh broke the tense silence. "You really don't want to know," she said after a while, idly running a finger along the rim of the glass of wine she had previously been enjoying.

It was like he was entranced; for a moment, all Hotch could do was watch Emily's slender fingers dance along the glass. What it reminded him of was the most exquisite torture…the way those same fingers felt dancing along his skin. He missed her, he realized.

But he had made his decision, and he would stick to it.

Carefully gauging her reaction, he caught her fingers with his, effectively stopping and surprising her and pulling her back to the present. He was perilously close to her now, her back almost right against his front. She could feel his hot breath fanning out against her neck, and it made her…antsy. Giddy. It made her feel things she knew she shouldn't have been feeling.

But damn, she wanted to.

Slowly, and still from behind her, Hotch reached for the wine bottle, and before he could do anything else, Emily poured him a glass as well. They had always functioned that way, reading each other's actions and thoughts and always staying one step ahead of the other. They were masters of human behavior, but, ironically, not of one another's.

"I do want to know," Emily heard Hotch rumble, and her eyes fell shut in denial.

"What were you and Strauss talking about before I came into your office?" she asked instead, ignoring him for the moment. She had always liked keeping him on his toes, after all.

…and on his knees.

She could feel him glaring unforgivingly at her, but it didn't sway her. Instead, she simply turned to meet his gaze, not at all surprised at the burning intensity she saw reflected in his handsome eyes.

"I'm going to keep asking, Emily."

And I'm going to keep ignoring you, was Emily's unspoken but obvious answer. She waited for him to take a long sip of his wine; she waited for him to cave in. He always did, eventually, and this time was no exception. His response, however, was something Emily could not have ever prepared herself for.

"My suspension," he disclosed finally, with a tempered huff. "We were discussing my suspension."

Emily couldn't remember ever feeling more caught off-guard; except maybe for when he had told her that he and Haley were starting over. She almost began to choke. "Your what?"

"My suspension, Emily," Hotch repeated, as if it were old news already. His indifferent tone unnerved her to no end. "I asked her about…other units. Other opportunities for me outside of the BAU."

Emily wasn't sure just how long her mouth had been wide open. "Suspension?" she echoed numbly, incredulously. "On what grounds?" The damned woman. It was as if she wanted so desperately to break up their team's already tenuous structure. Getting rid of their Unit Chief - their rock - would do just that. Emily was, quite simply, infuriated.

And Hotch was weary. "You know Strauss has never needed a reason for the things she does, Emily."

"I don't believe this –"

But Hotch was tired of beating around the bush, of being ignored. "Answer me," he said firmly, though the look in his eyes conveyed his almost tender concern. "Why are you resigning, Emily? The BAU is your home, has been your dream for…forever."

It wasn't as if he had to remind her; after all, she had been the one to tell him, all those priceless years ago. Emily fondly remembered the look of astonishment and satisfaction he'd had on his face then. It had seemed as if he was proud of her, pleased with the revelation. As if he had plans for them, years down the line. Unit chief and subordinate, lover to lover.

Where were those plans now?

With a quiet sigh, Emily drifted away from Hotch and toward the picture window he had always liked; the one that captured the most perfect view of DC, the one they had made love right in front of, the act so public yet so private, in their own wistful worlds.

Her voice wrapped around him like silk, taking him off guard. "Do you really want to know?"

Suddenly, he was behind her again, his presence intoxicating. "Yes," he whispered, though his heart was telling him something else.

"Strauss called me into her office the other day," Emily finally revealed, and Hotch couldn't bring himself to be surprised. "She told me things I didn't understand…or didn't want to."

Emily felt him shift forward; she took a step further away. "She wanted me to spy on you." The words were heavy on her tongue, blunt in the still air surrounding them. "For her. So she could get rid of you."

Hotch stiffened perceptibly enough, and though he really had no control of his facial expressions at the moment, he imagined his visage was flat, unseeing. "Wh-why?" he stuttered. "Why you?"

That made Emily scoff. "Because I'm the newbie. Because I don't know you as well." She said the blatant lie with a tone dripping with sarcasm, but Hotch didn't miss the way her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. "Because, clearly…no one saw me fit to be on the team, but Strauss did me a favor, thinking she'd get a puppet out of the goodness of her cold heart."

Hotch ached to reach out for her; he could feel her slipping, cracking under the pressure of the immaculately compartmentalized boxes she was so good at arranging. "Who told you this?" he asked, and he cursed the fact that his voice sounded so…breathless.

"She did." Emily shook her head, a wry, rueful smile flirting at her lips. "And to think, all this time, I thought I had made it where I am today out of my hard work and determination, my blood, sweat, and tears." It was abundantly clear she wasn't terribly shaken, but for the love of all things holy, she had no lack of sharp wit and anger.

He couldn't help it; before he had the chance to think, he had reached out to grasp her arm. "Don't you dare believe a word she tells you." It was Emily's turn to stiffen, her gaze falling to where his hand was resting on her skin. The setting was suddenly too intimate for her to handle; she didn't know how to react. She knew how she wanted to…but she knew, she knew it was so wrong.

Slowly, she pulled away. "Why are you here?" she finally questioned.

Hypocritical man that he was, Hotch ignored her query and said instead, almost stunned, "You resigned to save my ass."

His statement made Emily cock her head to the side curiously, a stubborn frown taking the place of the awkward smile that had once been. "No, Aaron. I resigned because I hate political games." And because I could never do anything like that…to you.

It took everything Hotch had within him to prevent from recoiling. He wasn't about to lie; her straightforward denial, no matter how stubborn, stung like the Devil. But there was nothing he could do about it anymore. That much he was going to have to learn soon enough, he supposed.

Shaking his head idly, Hotch let his mind run circles. It was obvious their dynamic had changed. "I'm here because we have one more case," he said simply.

Emily didn't know whether or not laughing was an acceptable response. "Aaron…what about 'resigning from the BAU' do you not understand?"

But Hotch was persistent and stubborn to no end, and this time was no exception. "Come to Milwaukee," he implored her. "I'll make you a deal – if your ready bag isn't here, packed, I won't bug you anymore." His eyes were blazing now. "But if it is…then I want you on that plane with me."

~.~.~

If he were being honest with himself, Hotch knew he wanted her in a multitude of different ways. They hadn't talked much since boarding the jet, save for when Emily had made him a cup of strong black coffee without even asking. She had always known what he needed and when he needed it.

He knew it was wrong; he had made his decision, and certainly could not back out now. Being indecisive was going to help no one, and certainly not himself.

But now, his desire for her was becoming too difficult to hide, as was abundantly clear when they hit turbulence – damned thunderstorms – and Emily, who had been walking up and down the center aisle instead of sitting with her seatbelt fastened, was then vaulted into his lap.

Without even a second of thought, Hotch's arms went around Emily's slender waist, holding her in place and steadying her as the plane continued to shake, worse than it had been in the previous hours. All the while, Emily stared at him, an unreadable expression on her face. He could tell her mind was running circles…but then again, so was his.

He had almost forgotten how right it had felt to have her in his arms.

It was quite a while later when Emily broke the fragile silence, her voice raspy and low. "You can let me go now," she informed, trying to ignore how close their bodies were.

The words fell from Hotch's lips before he could stop them. "I don't think I want to, Emily."

Emily's jaw dropped just a titch. Was he really saying this? "H – Aaron," she warned; though she made no attempt to move out from his hold, when she easily could have. She knew what he was doing; she knew it was wrong. "No…you need to make up your mind."

"I know I do," he rumbled, his breathing already labored. "But you're making it…very hard."

She bit back her smirk. "Oh, so it's my fault then?" she deadpanned. Even as she said the words, she brought an arm up to wrap around his neck. It was an unhealthy game they were playing, but they had played it before…they had flirted along the line of danger too many times to count.

This would just be another notch on their proverbial bedpost.

Hotch didn't answer. Rather, he simply adjusted her position on his lap. "I thought we agreed we'd be professional," he murmured almost mockingly. He had known it for a while; Emily brought out a different side in him. As of yet, he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing.

Emily actually laughed at that, though her laugh was dry and rueful. "You took complete charge of the entire ordeal, Aaron," she reminded, and her bottom lip quivered – with contempt? – once more. "I don't know what I agreed to."

"I'm not sure it was this." Slowly, he teased her neck with a kiss, nuzzling the precious skin there as he breathed in her telltale fragrance. He could feel that Emily was still drawn as tight as a bow; her shoulders and back were stiff, but that would have to change. He liked to think all traces of gentlemanliness were not lost, however. He couldn't help nor control himself…but he wasn't about to prevent her from having a say.

"Tell me to stop, Emily," he whispered in her ear, reveling in the shiver he felt course down her spine. "Tell me to stop and I will, I promise you that."

Emily's eyes slammed shut as his teeth found the sensitive shell of her ear. They couldn't do this…they'd given this up for a reason. "St – oh, Aaron."

"Come on, Emily," he practically taunted, as his hands stroked the skin of her hips. "Say the word. Or can you not?" A beat passed. "Or do you not want to?"

"We can't," she ground out.

"Tell me to stop," he tossed right back, unwavering.

"No." Emily tossed her hair over her shoulder, baring her teeth at him in the process. "Fuck professionalism. I've never been your submissive, Aaron Hotchner, and I'll be damned if I start now. You are not my boss anymore."

"Exactly." His mouth was perilously close to hers now. "Technically, neither one of us is with the BAU at the moment. That's the beauty of it."

So you're just going to ignore your precious Haley whom you seemed to care so much about when you broke things off between us? Emily's head began to hurt. "This is fucked up," she moaned, but she could feel herself yielding to his desires – her desires.

He grinned; she'd always had such a dirty mouth, and God, it turned him on to no end. "Yeah. It really is."

And without any more fanfare, he dove in for his feast.

~.~.~

She tasted greater than he had imagined she would, and there had been plenty of imagining as of late. Her skin was smooth, her chest heaving, her eyes glassy. She was a goddess and, for a moment, Hotch allowed himself to be convinced she was still his. He had been a damn fool to let her go…but he wasn't thinking about that now. He couldn't think, period; not when he was tugging Emily's soft shirt over her head, not when he was undoing the fastenings of her slacks faster than he had ever thought possible.

His wasn't a one-sided effort, however. Emily gave as good as she got, biting at the column of Hotch's throat as she shoved his hands aside and unbuckled his belt, unzipping his own pants and freeing him from his blue cotton boxers. They knew each other well enough to understand this wasn't about to be short and sweet, or reminiscent, or meaningful.

No, they had no time for fancies like that. This was a rough fuck and nothing more, solely a means of releasing frustration and grasping at a moment of pleasure, however wrong it might be, in the midst of plentiful and unrelenting chaos.

They didn't even bother to fully rid one another of their clothes. Their minds were set on a single task…and their bodies were as well.

Emily was forced to bite down on her lower lip hard enough to bleed when Hotch fisted a hand in her hair and tugged her in a different direction entirely, causing her to sprawl out on the longest seat in the jet. He stalked her like a predator does his prey, his eyes dark and almost gleaming.

Yet he spared her a smile. "I wanted to tell you earlier today, but of course, it wasn't appropriate," he said nonchalantly, as he hovered over her, his hardened cock jutting forward to push just barely against her glistening folds. She wasn't the only one who could be a painful tease; he was going to make sure she knew that by the end of the day.

"You look stunning."

That was all the warning he afforded Emily before taking her with one sure, steamy stroke.

It took everything they had to keep from screaming. Stars dancing behind her eyelids, Emily threw all caution to the wind and pressed her mouth firmly to that of her former lover. It was such a callous title; former lover. It made her want to be pained, but she couldn't be, not when she was so preoccupied. Not when she could instead be reveling in the look of bliss written across Hotch's face. Not when she was taking charge.

It caught him off-guard; one minute, he was gazing down at her, his lips upturned at the glorious sight…and the next, he was beneath her, struggling to remember how to breathe. He didn't mind the change. Emily was a fighter in every aspect.

He had loved that about her.

For a moment, Hotch actually stopped. It was something he had always had a problem with, at least with Emily; having foresight when it came to situations like the one they were currently in. Not once had he thought to ask, What are we doing? Even now, questioning himself, he knew nothing was going to change his mind. Emily was too potent a drug, and he was too selfish a man. She undoubtedly thought he no longer had any morals…and he didn't know if he could fault her for believing anything of the such.

He didn't even know if he would disagree with her.

Emily, on the other hand, only used his pause to her advantage. Raking her fingers through his hair, she effectively brought him back to the present, smiling devilishly when she saw his eyes blacken once more. Wherever his mind had been wandering was no more; it was time to play. Time to feast. Time to sin.

"You're being awfully quiet for a man who seemed so willing to assert his dominance just a few minutes earlier." Her tongue found the shell of his ear, and her mouth was split wide with a grin when Hotch responded with a brutal thrust. Much to their shared delight – and yes, some pleasured pain –, Hotch took the initiative to pick up the pace, yet he still remained quiet, save for the occasional grunt here and there. She was burning him from the inside out, and God, it felt so damn good.

"Fuck," he finally gasped, when Emily's slender fingers crept under his shirt and traced over his scars. He bit down on her collarbone hard, moving his hips in a frenzy as he fought to get them closer to that coveted precipice. Their journey was not without obstacles, many of which were provided by the former lovers themselves. Hotch had a permanent snarl on his face, and Emily'd had enough. She was back in a mocking mood. He had hurt her, regardless of whether she showed it outwardly or not.

Now it was his time.

It was after he had gotten progressively angrier, for God knows what reason, that Emily reared back, catching him off-guard once more. He was so far off his game…and while she was so close to blinding release, Emily was also feeling ruthless.

"What's wrong?" she taunted, her voice breathy and so seductive. This is a mistake, her conscience chanted. This is a mistake, a bad mistake, and he knows it. But this time, Emily didn't yield. "What's wrong, Aaron? Haley can't please you the way I could?"

Hotch couldn't prevent it; he let out an outright roar and pummeled into her, panting and breaking as Emily finally climaxed with him, ignoring the fact that their pilot was mere feet away. They paid him no heed. Instead, Hotch tried in vain to diminish the pounding in his head; he buried his face between Emily's satin-cased breasts, her skin tasting of sex and sweat and rage.

He hated the comment she had made. He hated his conscience for betraying him, for there was a small voice in the back of his mind whispering that maybe she was right. He hated this mess, he hated himself, he hated her.

So he had been correct. No good could have come from their frantic and angry coupling, but they had gone at it anyway. There was no foresight, only numbness. And guilt. And regret.

Nothing was easy anymore. Bliss was gone. Before he realized what he was saying, before he even realized he was actually speaking, Hotch allowed a few heavy words to fall from his chapped lips. "Sometimes, I find myself missing when you were just a chef."

Silence.

It took less than a second for Hotch to realize what he had done. He opened his mouth to speak, to correct himself…but Emily let him get no words past. Already, she was moving, rearranging her clothes, distancing themselves. Finally, she let out a mirthless laugh, shaking her head all the while as she gazed at him with hard but beautiful eyes. "Fuck you, too, Aaron," she said tightly.

"But you already did."

Hotch couldn't honestly bring himself to be surprised – or angry – when he received a sharp slap across his face.

Author's Note: ...I'm sorry! I promise this'll be worth it. The going gets really good in the next couple chapters; the action is picking up. Of course, I'd love to know what you think. If you have the time, please don't hesitate to leave me a review. Your feedback is really and truly the best compensation I could ask for, and your constant support means so much. Thank you in advance!

Also, the final ballot for the Profiler's Choice Awards has been posted on the Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. Thank you so much to everyone - all of you - who nominated Kiss The Cook for the Best Hotch/Emily category! I'm really honored. If I could ask for just one more minute of your time: it would mean the world to me if you'd head over to the link posted below (remove all spaces) to cast your vote.

www. fan fiction.

net/topic/74868/73609377/1/#73609533

Final voting ends November 30th. As always, thank you so much for your support!