Chapter Twenty-Seven
fair warning: this chapter is why this fic is rated M.
Emily's bedroom, the only room in her flat that Hotch had never seen before, was entirely void of personality. The only sign that the room was still occupied at all was the black, linen bed sheets. Close to the door, there was another pile of offensive boxes, leaning precariously against two tall suitcases that were, presumably, already packed up. Reminders that this...all of this...she was saying goodbye. Dragging his eyes away from the boxes, Hotch's eyes lingered on the bed, unspeakable thoughts entering his head. Emily's hand was still warm in his own and she turned to face him, following his eyes to her bed, their fingers still interlaced. For a moment, they stood in the silence. There was an awkwardness, an awareness that they were about to cross a line and that, once they crossed it, there was no going back. It hung between them, their moment of pause, but her hand was still in his.
"Emily, I-"
"Hotch, for once in your life, shut up." And then her arms were around his neck, her lips crushing against his own, urgent and hungry. Hotch didn't need telling twice; he responded in kid, one arm wrapping around her lithe waist as the other came up to rest on the wall behind her. Hotch stepped into her space and Emily's back hit the wall, but still, it wasn't close enough for her. One of Emily's hands was tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, twisting gentle circles in the short hair there. The other, she brought down his chest, feeling hard muscle beneath the pristine, white shirt he wore. She paused there, appreciating the wall of strength beneath her hand. She wanted him closer, and her arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, pressing the length of his body against her. Taking the hint, Hotch closed what little distance there was left between them, pressing her up against the wall, the hand that had been bracing them moving to tangle in her dark hair. She was intoxicating, her body moulded perfectly to his, like she had been made for him, and him for her. Pressed against her like this, Hotch could feel the rapid swell of her chest as she tried to catch her breath, unwilling to break their kiss. Eventually, she had to. Gasping for air, Emily's hands were on his shoulders, pushing his blazer from them. It hit the floor with a thud, and Hotch was briefly aware of his mobile phone in his pocket, but then she was biting his lip and unbuttoning his shirt and he didn't know anything other than her.
Emily fumbled over his buttons. She had only unfastened two when Hotch captured her lips with his, and she forgot all about his shirt. Her hands roamed from his chest, to his face, to his hair, the back of his neck, his hips, where she pulled his shirt out from where it was tucked into his jeans. She wanted him closer, as close as she could have him in their currently clothed situation. His aftershave, the smell of him, the one she had been used to for so many years now, was new, intoxicating. How had she become so accustomed to it that she had stopped noticing it? Hotch pulled away from her, breaking their kiss, and Emily whined like a displeased kitten, before feeling his lips press against her throat. Her whine turned quickly into a moan, as she brought her hand up, encouragingly, to tangle in his hair. Hotch chucked against her skin, and Emily felt the vibrations like an earthquake in her core. Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes, tracing small circles of encouragement on the back of Hotch's neck as he tasted her skin. With her eyes closed, Emily could focus entirely on the feeling of Hotch's mouth on her, every undulation of his lips against her.
Hotch took his time as he kissed her throat, tongue darting out to taste, to suck. It had been decades since he had first imagined what her skin would taste like beneath his tongue, and he was going to savour every moment of it. He paid attention to every little noise she made, encouraged by each sigh and every gasp. Each intake of breath, when his lips and tongue landed on a particularly sensitive spot, urged him on. When he felt her blood beating beneath his lips, he licked, slowly, from her throat up to her earlobe, pausing a moment to inhale her, nose buried in her hair. The vanilla of her shampoo, the scent that always floated past whenever she went by, brought it all back. The darkness of lust in her eyes, when she strode over to his desk and, with all of the confidence in the world, sat down on his lap...he could still hear her request, had heard it in every waking and sleeping moment since that day in his office.
"Fuck me, Hotch."
Hearing it now, in his head, while she was pressed against him, made him wild.
Emily didn't know what changed, but one moment she was enjoying the softness of Hotch's kisses on her throat, marvelling at how gentle he was, his almost infuriating ability to take his time, and the next, Hotch growled into her hear, his hand disappearing from where it had been holding her waist. He ran it down her leg, slowly, fingers digging into her thigh, and hitched her leg up around his hip. Emily didn't know what triggered the change within him, but when he thrust against her, even fully clothed, and growled like that into her ear, Emily's stomach clenched with anticipation and she gasped into his open mouth as Hotch's lips returned to hers and he kissed her. All of his softness, all of his gentility, all of his patience, was gone. His tongue forced it's way into her mouth, stealing her kisses, teeth clashing against hers in his urgency. He thrust against her again, frustrated, and the denim of his jeans scratched against the sensitive, bare skin of her leg. Emily pressed a hand against his chest, applying pressure gently.
The loss of contact between them shocked her. Emily's foot hit the floor hard as Hotch stepped away from her and her leg slipped from his hip. Emily reached for him, to keep him from doing too far, when the distance between them chilled her. She caught him by his shirt, pulling him back to her, almost desperately, afraid he was going to spook and tell her they had to stop.
"Emily, I'm sorry," He started to apologise, breathlessly, and she realised he thought she was pushing him away to stop him. Her heart surged in his chest. He was so good. Always.
"Don't you dare apologise for a kiss like that." Hotch's voice trailed off when he realised her hands had worked their way from his shirt to his belt, and Emily was swiftly working on the buckle. She unfastened it, loosened it enough to unbutton and unzip his jeans, and then pushed them down. Eyes on his face, watching for his reaction, Emily reached for him and found him hard. Stroking him through his boxers, she watched Hotch's eyes close as his mouth opened in pleasure of finally being released and touched, and she couldn't stop the satisfied smile that spread across her pink lips, swollen from kissing him.
"What do you want, Hotch?" She gripped him through the fabric, gripping just enough to make him twitch, wanting more. "Or?"
The groan that escaped at her unspoken suggestion gave Emily her answer and she understood him perfectly. This was just another language she spoke oh, so fluently. Stepping forwards, into his space once more, Emily stood on her tip-toes to kiss him, putting gentle pressure on his chest and forcing him backwards. Hotch stepped out of his jeans as he went and when his calves hit her bed, he sat. His eyes were open now, and wide, as he watched Emily kneel between his legs. Everything else he had seen, everything else they had done...it all paled in comparison. As she tugged on the waistband of his boxers and Hotch obediently lifted his hips so she could tug them down, he watched, mesmerised, unable to believe his own eyes, afraid to blink and miss a moment of this, of her. He'd been hard since she'd kissed him on the couch and the release of pressure felt good, but nowhere near as good as her hand felt as she wrapped it around him. Emily stared. She'd seen it before, in the car, felt it in the elevator. His cock was just as pretty as she remembered; perfectly pink, his head already slick with pre-cum, purple and blue veins ridging it's surface. It curved, she noted, ever so slightly to the left. Tracing one of the blue veins that stood prominently out with her little finger, Emily delighted when Hotch's hips bucked. It was a reflex, independent of him. She liked that, and traced the vein again, ever so softly, just to watch him, just to hear his moan.
"Emily..." It wasn't quite a request, but she heard the desperation in his voice and, much as a part of her wanted to tease him to his wits end, an even stronger part of her wanted to taste him. As she stroked his shaft with one hand, the other resting gently on his thigh, and leaned over him, Hotch couldn't take his eyes off of her. Then, close enough that he could feel her breath on the head of his cock, she paused.
"Oh," She said, softly, "I forgot." Sitting back on her heels, Emily tugged her hair up into a ponytail, wrapping the elastic around it, and Hotch thought he might explode just from that sight. That fucking ponytail... For years, he had fantasised about her, and now she was kneeling between his legs, holding his prick and leaning over him...
He tasted good. Emily swirled her tongue around his head, concentrating on the tender underside, her eyes locked onto his and not straying for a moment. Hotch couldn't have said a word, even if he wanted to. His breath was caught in his diaphragm as he watched Emily swirl her tongue around him, expertly. She pulled away, leaning down and running her tongue up his length in one smooth, slow motion. Hotch gripped the bed sheets at that, and saw Emily's eyes flick to the side, see it, and crinkle around the edges in a smile. Smug little minx. As it turned out, she had every right to be smug. She teased him a while longer, fondling his balls with her free hand as she gently pumped his shaft and swirled that expert tongue around his head, sometimes quickly, sometimes agonisingly slowly. She had lulled him into a false sense of pattern, of security, when, suddenly, she sank down, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. Hotch felt himself hit the back of her throat, and cursed.
"Fuck," He cussed, unable to sit up any longer, his back slamming against the mattress as he fell back. He wanted to tell her how good she felt, but when he opened his mouth to speak, all that he could manage was a throaty moan. Emily didn't need words to know how crazy she was making him. Hearing him moan like that made her need for him grow, her insides clenching with anticipation as she imagined what other use he could put his cock to. She didn't gag, as he hit the back of her throat, though her eyes watered. Hotch was both awed and impressed, his hands dropping to her hair. "Don't stop, Em. Don't stop."
Emily chuckled around him, amused that he felt the need to tell her to keep going. As she laughed, her throat vibrated against him and Hotch closed his eyes, focusing on the intense pleasure she was bringing him. Emily hallowed out her cheeks, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down, faster now, letting him slide further and further down her throat every time she surged forwards again. The way he begged her to keep going, his hands now in her hair, there wasn't a chance in hell she was going to stop. His words had gone straight to between her legs, where Emily knew she was wet; she had been since he'd kissed her on the couch.
Emily reached up a hand, sliding it beneath his shirt, and raked it down his chest as she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock once more. Her soft, wet mouth wrapped around it was a feeling Hotch wouldn't have traded for anything in that moment. He didn't think he could experience more pleasure, until his eyes landed on Emily's other arm, which disappeared between her legs, and he realised she was touching herself, rubbing herself through her underwear, giving them simultaneous pleasure. She met his eyes again, a mischievous twinkle in her own, and slowly took the entire length of him into her mouth as he watched. She held there a moment, constricting her throat around him, and, as she came back up, she let her teeth graze his skin, ever so gently, just enough so that he could feel it.
"Stop, stop, stop," Emily halted at his words, and Hotch closed his eyes. She popped his head out of her mouth like a lollipop, and brought the back of her hand up to wipe at the saliva at the corner of her mouth. She had to stop, she had to, because he didn't want to be done too soon. "You're too good at that," Hotch was breathless, and he sat up, reaching for her and pulling her to her feet. She was taller than him from this angle. The hem of her black dress was lace and Hotch gripped it, tearing it up and over her head in one smooth motion. More black course, even Hotch, with his limited knowledge of women's wear,could see that this underwear set was expensive, and he realised in the same moment that he would have expected no less from Emily Prentiss. The contrast between her perfect, pale skin and her black underwear was shocking and Hotch took a moment to appreciate her, from the shapely length of her legs, to the toned, flat pane of her stomach, to the swell of her breasts, level with his head, as she breathed, slow and steady. His eyes found her face, finally, and she looked almost shy. It was the first time he had ever seen her so undressed, but Hotch felt like he had never truly noticed her beauty before now. Staring at her face, at the brown eyes that suddenly couldn't meet his own, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he smiled.
Emily was confused, as Hotch smiled up at her like that. The expression on his face was unnervingly unfamiliar. Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Of all of the men she had taken to bed, and her number wasn't a small one, none of them had ever gazed up a her like Hotch was doing right now. Like she was something rare, priceless, ethereal. Something about that smile...it was as though he was being lit from the inside, out. Something in Emily's chest constricted, so tightly, it made her breath catch in her throat, and there was a sudden moisture in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Emily tried to blink away the tears, embarrassed by their appalling timing, but Hotch's hand came up to her face, pressing against her cheek. His thumb traced her cheekbone and Emily turned her face into his hand, pressing a long kiss to his palm. Her hands moved, finishing their earlier task of unbuttoning his shirt, and then Hotch was naked before her. His hands moved then, to the back of her head, and Hotch pulled her to him. Emily knelt on the bed, one foot still on the floor. This kiss was slow, deep, the kind of kiss that feels as though you have all the time in the world. As they kissed, Emily felt Hotch's hands on her back, unsnapping her bra as he kissed her. It slid down her arms, leaving her exposed to him, and Emily threw it aside. Hotch's hands were soft, almost nervous, but Emily surged forwards, pushing herself into his hands and Hotch tore his lips from his, taking in the sight of her breasts in his hands. Her necklines had been the subject of his dreams for as long as Hotch could remember. She'd been taunting him for years, and now she was offering herself to him. He squeezed, feeling her nipples harden against the palms of his hands, and leaned in, fastening his mouth around the left one, like he had been dying to do for months, weeks, years even. Every time she'd worn one of those low cut tops to work, every time he'd seen her lean over a table, each time she'd reached over to take a paper from him. Every team night out, in town, or at Rossi's. He worshipped her, for all of those times, with his tongue, and hoped he could give her a fraction of the pleasure she had given him with hers. Her hand was in his hair again, her head thrown back, mouth open, focusing on the flick of his tongue against his hard nipple, the way his other hand came up to massage her neglected breast, catching her nipple between his fingers and pinching.
His cock was twitching, neglected and eager, but Hotch ignored it, focusing on her. Emily reached for him, sensing his need, but Hotch swatted her hand away. He wanted it to be about her. And, plus, he didn't trust himself to hold it together if she touched him right then. Instead, Hotch reached for her, using his free hand to tug down the thin, black lace of her thong. Emily gasped as the material clung to and peeled away from her wet core. Then, it dropped to the floor and Hotch cupped her between her legs.
"God, Em," He breathed, against her skin, and she knew he was commenting on the dampness between her legs, his tone desperate and impressed. Her nipple was still in his mouth when he spoke, sending vibrations across Emily's skin, and she bit her lip, momentarily overwhelmed by this moment she was living in. clinging to his hand and resting her chin on the top of his head. His hands, his huge, calloused hands, the hands that knew so well how to hold and fire a gun, those hands could be so gentle. He was gentle now, as he explored her for the first time. The first and last. The thought barrelled into her head like a train, giving her pause. She tensed, and Aaron halted, looking up at her, concerned. "Hey, are you okay?"
There it was again. That look. He was looking at her like that again. This was...Emily couldn't have him looking at her like that.
She shoved his shoulders and, once again, Aaron fell back against her bedspread. Emily crawled onto the bed, up and onto him, his wet cock leaving a trail of saliva and pre-cum down her stomach as she hovered over him. Hotch's hands found her hips as she kissed him, and Emily rubbed against him, gyrating her core over his hard length. His cock slid between her lips, rubbing against her clit as Emily ground down against him. It was delicious.
"I need you, Aaron," She told him, between kisses. Truthfully, she'd needed him for weeks, months, maybe. It had been weeks since she'd told him she wanted him to fuck her, and it was about time he made good on that demand. "Now!"
Now holding her hips still, so that she couldn't rotate them on top of him anymore, Aaron pushed and Emily obediently raised them. His cock twitched, standing upright, and Hotch held his shaft, guiding it towards her, not quiet believing this was going to happen. When she felt the pressure of his head at her entrance, Emily closed her eyes for a moment, intent on focusing as Hotch slid inside of her. She thought she was ready; Emily didn't think she'd ever been so ready to be fucked before, but Aaron was bigger than she had anticipated, and as he pushed the head of his cock inside, Emily felt the burn as he stretched her open. It was pain, but it was also pleasure. So much pleasure. Emily kept going, sinking down onto him, with assistance from Hotch as his hands never left her hips, until she was sitting across his hips, impaled, breathless and already sweating. Hotch looked from her eyes to where they were joined, where he disappeared inside of her, and back again, not yet content to believe this was real. He made to move, but Emily put a hand to his chest, holding him down. Her eyes were closed and she shook her head, asking for a moment, as her walls adjusted around him. Neither of them moved, but as she tried to steady her breathing, Emily felt the familiar surge of pressure, her walls beginning to constrict around him and Hotch stared in amazement as her head fell back, her mouth open in a blissful oh. Seeing the absolute pleasure on her face, and wanting to send her over the edge, Hotch's hand moved from her hip to her clit, his thumb rubbing over it in tiny circles, and he groaned when he felt her walls grip him, and Emily cried out.
"Oh, oh, Aaron!" She was breathless and beautiful as she fell apart, her first orgasm wracking through her body, goosebumps appearing on her skin and her nipples hardening once more. It took all of his willpower not to thrust, desperately, into her, but Hotch held himself in check. Emily collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily, her breasts pressed flush against him, a thin sheen of sweat glossing her body. Hotch wrapped his around around her back as she came down from her high.
"How did you...?" She was asking, breathlessly, but Hotch just shook his head.
"No,baby, that was all you." Sensing her relaxing around him, Hotch began to slowly pump his hips, slowly and steadily, the additional lubricant from her orgasm making him slick, and Emily moaned against his ear.
"Yes, yes, yes," She was whispering, more to herself than to him, but Hotch took it as all of the encouragement he needed. His hands moved from her back to her ass, and he held her still as he sped up his hips, hitting a rhythm that elicited a repetitive moan from Emily as he repeatedly bottomed out inside of her.
With every moan, Hotch's confidence grew and Emily's forehead was soon pressed against his shoulder, her words having dissolved into tearful gasps of pleasure, emphasised by the smack of skim on skim as Hotch hammered into her. Her fringe was plastered to her forehead, her mascara, already destroyed by an evening at Rossi's, staining the skin beneath her eyes, but Emily didn't care. All she cared about was the absolute pleasure of having Hotch inside of her, of his breath in her hear, and the enthusiasm and abandon with which he slammed into her, over and over, chasing his own high as well as wanting to give her another.
Hotch surprised her when he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and flipped them over. He did it all without slipping out of her for a moment and Emily moaned in appreciation of this new angle as Hotch started up his motions again, loving the weight of him on top of her now. His brow was slick with sweat, as were his biceps as Emily gripped them, her fingers nowhere near close to meeting around the bulge of his muscle.
Hotch reached for her leg, hitching it up, stretching her open for him as he set a new, vigorous pace. Her perfect body beneath him was, Hotch had decided, a miracle of no small proportions. Letting go of her leg, he leaned down to kiss her, for the first time since entering her body. He put everything he had ever wanted to say to her behind that kiss. She was still leaving tomorrow, but right now, as he pounded into her, deeper, even than before, that didn't mater. He could pretend this was their forever, like he wanted it to be, and not just one night he knew neither of them would ever forget.
Emily could see it all in his eyes and, in true Emily fashion, as soon as her emotions got involved, Emily backed away from them. It didn't matter how well he kissed her, or how good the sex was, or what she saw in his eyes...she was still leaving. So when he kissed her like that, when he made her stomach flutter like it was full of butterflies, when her heart clenched so tightly in her chest that Emily thought it might burst, and the tears sprung to her eyes once more, Emily pushed him away, turning onto her hands and knees. She presented herself to him, eager and waiting and wet and terrified of all of the emotions his touch stirred inside of her. When he entered her again, immediately and without a moments hesitation, Hotch was rough and fast, understanding exactly what she wanted from him. Emily felt the head of his cock rut up against her cervix and cried out.
The reality of fucking Emily Prentiss was so much better than the fantasy and as Hotch wound his hand into her hair, tugging it into a pony tail, pulling it so that her head came up and she rose, pressed, bodily, against him, he could not, for the life of him, understand why they hadn't done this years ago.
He was nearly there and the hand that wasn't wound through her hair moved, tweaking Emily's nipples, teasingly, to settle between her lets where he began massaging her clit in time with his thrusts.
How did he do that? Emily thought, as the ability to speak abandoned her. She tried, tried to encourage him, but all that came out was a babble of unintelligibility. Emily had been fucked before, or so she had thought, but never like this. Her stomach coiled, muscles in her pelvis tensing as Hotch's cock and fingers worked their tireless magic on her body.
"Hotch, I'm gonna-"
"I know, me too," He turned her head, his mouth claiming hers. "Cum for me, baby. Let go, Em."
The scream that wracked her as her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave was swallowed by him. As her walls clenched around him, Hotch felt the familiar rush of his orgasm, hot and burning. Emily felt every spurt of him inside of her, relished every second of it, as her walls milked him dry. Pleasure was still wracking her body, electricity shooting from inside of her to her clit, where Hotch was still stroking her, gently. Emily had to stop his hand, sensitive as she was from her orgasm, taking it in her own and pressing it against her stomach, she gasped, breathlessly, against his mouth. Hotch's other hand came up to her hair, stroking gentle as her orgasm subsided. She was still shaking, tear tracks dragging mascara down her cheeks, as she kissed him, putting everything she could never say to him into that kiss. They stayed like that, Hotch still inside of her, their arms entangled, for a long moment, before Emily opened her eyes and released his hand.
Hotch shifted away from her, slipping out of her and settling back against the bed sheets and Emily stood up, glancing from him to the door.
"I gotta..." She said, by way of explanation, before disappearing from the room into the bathroom.
The sheets were rumpled, disturbed, and Hotch set about straightening them before he settled into bed beneath the covers, sitting up, waiting for her return. There was, he realised, every chance that she would send him packing, but he didn't care. He wanted to stay, and he would tell her so. When Emily returned, she glanced from the bed sheets which had obviously been straightened, to Hotch, sitting upright in her bed, his hands folded on top of the covers. Then she smiled. He obviously had no intention of going home tonight and, honestly, Emily was relieved. She wanted him here, more than she wanted anything else in the world right now.
"That's my side," She told him, walking towards the bed. Relieved and amused, Hotch moved over and pulled down the sheets on her side so she could climb in. It didn't matter that it was her side, because as soon as she was settled beneath he covers, Emily reaching back and pulled him towards her, tucking herself into the safety of his arms, her legs tangling with his. He pulled her to him, their nakedness feeling like the most natural thing in the world to both of them, and fell asleep breathing in the sweet scent of vanilla.
oh god be kind nothing has ever stressed me out like writing this did