Author's Note: Warning, this is very much a XXX chapter so definitely NSFW/S!

Possession and Control

It wasn't until he'd reached her bedroom again, that Hotch slipped Emily back down over his shoulder.

Though she still didn't actually make it all the way down to the floor.

Instead he made a gentle deposit on the end of the bed. And with her face slightly reddened from being tipped upside down, Emily shot him a cocky smirk.

"Next time I'm going to do that to you."

"HA!" Hotch barked a laugh even while he was leaning down to slide the robe from her shoulder, "I would LOVE to see you try it!"

Emily's smirk morphed to a tiny frown as she began to consider their relative upper body strength . . . and that's when Hotch began to strip her naked.

Her sleeves were coming off, and her arms were gently being turned this way and that. It was clear that he needed no assistance from her to get this job done. Which was fortunate.

Because she was thinking.

"Well," her jaw twisted as Hotch lifted her slightly off the bed to pull the plaid material out from under her, "okay, maybe not that exactly," her robe went flying over his shoulder, "but I can do stuff. You know I can pin the guys in the gym. Even Morgan. So, all right," she scowled slightly, "maybe it's been a few months since the last time I got him down on the mat, but I've done it more than once, so it definitely counts. And if I could do that to him, I could maybe do it to you too."

Her last words came just as Hotch slid his hands under her ass. He was shifting her up to the angle he wanted on the mattress.

"Lean back please, Emily."

His words were a husky whisper as his hands moved along her lower body. And even with part of her brain still focusing on how she'd do in a strength match up with Hotch . . . though admittedly the idea of actually pinning him to the mat was an almost laughable pipe dream . . . Emily couldn't have been more aware of his physical touch in that moment.

He was caressing her inner thighs, gently easing her legs apart.

And feeling that tingle of anticipation, and lust, down low in her belly . . . they were about to get to the good stuff . . . she immediately complied with his request.

She would have done just about anything he's asked her to do right then. And when she leaned back, the little white baby doll bunched up above her waist and her fingers began to tap an anxious rhythm on her bare stomach. Then his hands slid even higher, forming a V at the top of her thighs. His thumbs were brushing lightly against her neat little patch of curls.

All the while she was staring up at the ceiling . . . and though he was barely touching her . . . she could still feel herself getting wet.

It was anticipation.

"You know," she continued tightly, her voice now strained from the effort to pretend like he didn't have total control of her being in that moment, "I'm sure that if I wanted to, I could knock you offff . . ."

The rest of her sentence was lost in a gasp when Hotch simultaneously lifted her up, and his tongue slipped into her soft folds.

JESUS!

Her hips jerked, her fists clenched, and her eyes snapped shut.

"God damn!" She hissed as his tongue began swirling back and forth, slowly licking her entire length.

Just because she'd known it was coming, it didn't mean that she'd been ready for it. Because there was no way to BE ready for it! Even though sex with Hotch was becoming a routine activity, the activity itself was not at ALL routine.

He was way too good for that.

Like now . . . she bit down hard on her lip . . . he was nuzzling, and tasting, and sucking. Always knowing just when to move on to the next thing.

And just when to go back to the first.

His technique was unparalleled. She started to moan.

He was stimulating every part of her, to the point that her body actually began to quiver beneath his touch.

And though part of her knew that the quivering wasn't just from the physiological reaction to his touch . . . not that that could be denied . . . but also psychological as well. Because she knew just what would be happening next. Because this was how it had started last week.

Last week then he had robbed her of the ability to WALK!

And now, if all went well . . . his tongue slipped inside her . . . the same thing would be happening to her tonight. And things weren't just going 'well' at that moment, they were going fucking GREAT! The pleasure was beginning to build, her breath was starting to catch . . . and then it happened.

His focus shifted.

Suddenly it became all about her clit. And as had happened the week before . . . he timed it just right . . . and she nearly lost her fucking mind.

Her arousal was complete when he began his feast. He was alternating licking around the little nub, and sucking it between his lips like tiny lollypop. And after a few minutes of that . . . with her fingers now clenching the sheets as she panted and writhed up against him . . . he moved on to a different approach. First another bout of full length licking and swirling . . . and then she felt his tongue dipping in deeper.

And then it slipped back inside her.

She lost her breath completely. Her body was so keyed up by then, that she scrambled to hold him in place. Her fingers tangling in his hair.

Now he was hitting everything JUST perfectly!

His thumb took over stroking her clit, while his tongue began a light and feathery thrust that was driving her right over the edge. She was grinding into him. Her pants of "oh God, oh God, oh God," were coming faster and faster and faster. She was right on the edge, she could feel it, it was coming . . . she gasped . . . COMING!

And then suddenly he was gone.

He stopped.

Before she could even process that INCONCEIVABLE loss of touch, Hotch lifted his head and was looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"So what is it exactly that you think you're going to do to me?" He asked with a lick of his lips as he stood up.

Her body was frozen, her legs still spread wide as she blinked up at him in shock.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS SHIT?!

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STOPPING?!" She howled at him with a bounce of her hips, her palms slapping furiously down onto the bed, "KEEP GOING!"

Hotch's lip quirked up.

"But I asked you a question," he leaned down to kiss her nose. "What is it exactly that you think you're going to do to me?"

Yes, maybe he was being a little bit jerky teasing her this way, but . . . he straightened up to slip off his boxers, his erection immediately popping out . . . he'd be making it up to her in a moment. And he would be making it up to her four or five times.

At least.

But she was the one that had wanted to talk . . . he kicked his boxers behind him . . . and she was the one that thought she could get the upper hand in a physical encounter. He was just letting her make her argument.

He just wanted to see how persuasive she'd be under the circumstances.

Bug eyed, Emily stared up in disbelief, her brain truly incapable of following along with the words that Hotch had just spoken aloud.

But then she got it. And she got what he was doing.

Busting her balls.

Busting her balls INSTEAD of letting her FINISH her mind blowing ORGASM!

"YOU ASSHOLE!" She yelled, her knees locking together while she whipped a pillow at him, "YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME FINISH!"

Hotch ducked . . . and laughed.

She froze again, her brow now knitting together in both anger and confusion.

"So you're just joking?" she huffed, the anger still clear in her voice while her arms crossed right below her breasts, "well, I don't get why you would you be so MEAN to me. That wasn't nice."

Hotch leaned in again, his lips curved in a soft smile while he hovered over her . . . both his mouth and his now fully exposed erection tantalizingly out of her reach.

And make no mistake, she WAS pissed at him for stopping, joke or no joke it wasn't cool, but she still wanted him. She wanted him more than she'd wanted any man in a very long time.

And that scared the hell out of her.

"You think I'm being mean to you," Hotch's voice was sympathetic as his hand slid down, sliding her legs apart again. He could feel her moist curls beneath his fingers, "really?"

The intimacy of his touch had the desired effect, Emily's expression morphed from one of anger, to one entirely of confusion. It was clear that she had no idea what he was doing. Then she pouted.

"You stopped before I was done. Why would you do that to me? I wouldn't do that to you."

"Who I said I was stopping?" Hotch asked with a serious eyebrow, his fingers slowly slipping down from the wet curls, and into that hidden warmth.

Her eyes snapped back up to his, and seeing the desire and confusion warring on her pretty face, one of Hotch's dimples slipped out.

"That was just the pre-show. Now we're getting to the big game."

He began feeling along, gently touching and stroking . . . watching Emily's teeth begin to dig into her lip. And with one hand on her hip, the other hand slipped further back and deeper in, two of his fingers disappearing. The soft caresses continued, until he reached that one special place.

The one that he'd discovered consistently made her lose control.

And he knew that he had reached her Achilles by the tensing of her muscles, and the immediate loss of breath. He stroked his middle finger back and forth over the sweet spot.

"You see," he whispered, his expression softening when he leaned up further to kiss the little pout that persisted still, "we're not done."

His touch was slow and steady, back and forth, setting the rhythm he knew she liked. It wasn't long before her hips began to rock.

Her muscles were clenching around his fingers.

It was clear that her orgasm was beginning to build again . . . and he was watching her face the whole time. And though he could see that one of her magnificent breasts had slipped out of the little nightgown, unfortunately . . . even if they had become his favorite secondary playground . . . they couldn't be the current focus of his attention.

He only had the one set of lips, and nipple sucking wasn't going to make her come like he wanted her to come. And given his momentary pause in activities, he REALLY had to make this one count!

Fortunately though, as he spread her legs apart again, with her knees falling to the sides, he knew that things were building to a nice crest.

Her breathing was becoming more become erratic, her fists were clenched, and one little droplet of sweat had formed by her temple. And of course her hips were continuing that steady push up and against his hand.

All things considered . . . Hotch felt a little burst of male pride . . . he was quite sure that Emily was about two minutes away from screaming his name.

Although . . . his brow inched up slightly when he noticed one thing out of order . . . her arms remained crossed at her chest. That was odd.

She should have relaxed.

And that was also when he noticed the tiny furrow still remained in the center of her forehead.

And realizing what she was doing . . . continuing her attempt to stay cranky for his gentle teasing WHILE actually simultaneously having an orgasm . . . Hotch's mouth began to quiver in amusement.

Sometimes she was beyond adorable.

"It seems that you're still a little bit irritated with me," he pointed out softly, still caressing that one spot, while trying to keep from laughing at her ridiculous stance, "so would you prefer that I stopped touching you?"

Before she answered Hotch, Emily tried to regulate her breathing. That was admittedly quite hard to do with him fingering her to the brink.

But for dignity's sake . . . an attempt to regain some . . . she gave it the old college try.

"Well," she sucked in a shallow breath, "seeing as you're already busy down there, you might, uh," she swallowed as his fingers pressed down with a little more pressure, "you might as well, um," she bit back a moan, "finish, um . . ." she gasped, "up."

Yep . . . his eyes crinkled . . . adorable. And as her reward for being just that stubborn that she would attempt to have a CRANKY orgasm(!) . . . though he wasn't even sure how such a thing was possible . . . again he leaned up to press a soft kiss to her mouth.

"You do know that you'd have more fun if you stopped trying to stay mad at me," he whispered against her lips. And when he leaned back to see her expression had softened, he winked.

"That's better. Now just remember to breathe."

Then he dropped back down below her waist. And with his fingers continuing on with the slow and steady that always wins the race . . . he went in to finish what he'd started before she'd called him an asshole.

He sucked her clit back into his mouth.

Fortunately Emily did remember to breathe then . . . though she didn't do it very well. With a shallow gasp, her whole lower body bucked up.

"Oh . . . my . . . God."

The words were barely audible, but there was no denying the physical response of her body. She pushed herself up, driving his fingers deeper.

Her panting was out of control then.

That's when he felt the changes beginning to happen in her body . . . little tremors. So he quickly pulled back . . . though that time just for a split second . . . to suck in a deep breath.

Time for the big finale!

And a few minutes later the, "oh God, oh God, oh God" panting had become her mantra. She was too far gone by then to keep up even a pretense of lingering annoyance with him.

Her legs were hooked over his shoulders and her hips were rocking uncontrollably as she writhed against his face.

She was again holding him in place.

And still he continued to play her body like a violin. The suction and the swirls and the licking . . . this little valley was all his to play with, and he was having almost as much fun with his explorations as she was with his exploring.

And then her heels dug into his back.

"OH FUUUCK! OH GOD AARON! OH GOD!"

She bit down a scream. And then there was nothing but panting and shaking . . . and the shaking didn't stop. It was full body tremor that went on and on, hips to toes, and the sounds she was making were indescribable.

Watching her come was so hot that he nearly blew his own load.

But fortunately his self-control . . . and his personal sexual control . . . were points of particular pride with him. So though his balls were now starting to bellow at him in frustration, Hotch kept his own body from doing much more than a few dry air humps while her shudders slowly began to subside.

Her stifled screams becoming voiceless gasps for air.

It took a few more minutes before she was completely done. And God did he enjoy that. Knowing that the pleasure he gave her wasn't momentary, or fleeting. He could keep it going on . . . he rubbed his nose into her, in an intimate Eskimo kiss . . . and on.

Then finally she stopped.

And as he felt her hips relax, and her body stop moving, he pulled his fingers out. But still he kept her knees up and legs parted . . . though they were down now on the bed . . . while he moved back in to gently lick her clean.

Though most men would consider that an unnecessary step, he wasn't most men. That sweet juice that she'd spilled, she'd spilled it because of him. Because of what he'd done to her.

It was his.

And for a man who had been wandering in the desert for a year, he wasn't going to waste a drop of what she was giving him now.

And once that was done . . . and feeling Emily's hips again trembling, he knew that she was enjoying the 'after show' as well . . . he moved further down, focusing his attention in on her inner thighs.

And then from above . . . as he was making one final swirl . . . he heard a little sigh. It was happy.

And contented.

"You're so good at that, Aaron."

Hotch lifted his head to see that the breast that had slipped out of the little nightgown . . . Emily was now playing with it, pinching her nipple.

His hips gave another involuntary jerk . . . it was definitely time for him to get in on the action.

His gaze shifted from those breasts he was growing to adore, and up to her beautiful face. The confusion and anger were gone. Now her skin was flushed, her expression a mixture of amusement, and wanton desire.

"But that doesn't mean that I'm not still mad at you for teasing me," she continued while shooting him another pout, "just because you made it up to me, doesn't mean you should have stopped before."

Though she was no longer really angry with him . . . it was impossible to BE angry with somebody who could you make you see entire constellations simply with his touch . . . she wanted to avoid a repeat of that trick down the road.

Hotch's eyes crinkled slightly, but then he considered her words and his expression softened.

"No," he whispered back, his fingertips lightly pressing into her side, "maybe I shouldn't have stopped before. But," his expression lightened, "I am quite sure that by the time I'm done making it up to you, I will be completely forgiven for that momentary pause."

"So cocky," she murmured with a little smirk, even as she opened her arms for him to come up to her. "Now come here," she made a smooching sound, "I want a kiss."

Though missionary wasn't Hotch's plan for this performance, he too wanted the kiss. Just because they weren't in love, it didn't mean that he didn't enjoy that act as a simple expression of affection.

And his affection for her was great.

So after he'd lifted Emily's hips to shift her further up on the mattress . . . he needed to give himself more room on the bed . . . he climbed up and hovered over her again. He was leaning forward, straddling her thighs, the tip of his shaft brushing over her curls.

Her eyes crinkled.

"You better have brought the goods there, buddy," she smirked as he leaned in for the kiss and her arms slipped up around his neck to pull him down. She liked having him on top of her.

She felt safe.

"Oh don't you worry about my goods," he murmured confidently against her lips, his shaft now rubbing against her stomach, "I've got a whole bag of tricks left."

And with that he pulled back, a faint smile touching his lips . . . though his eyes were dark with desire.

"Ready for round two?"

Her lip quirked up.

"Yep," she leaned up to smack another quick kiss on his lips, "ready when you are, pal."

Hotch winked as he reached for a pillow. Then he placed his hands on her hips again, lifting them up so he could slide first the one pillow . . . and then another . . . underneath her.

Two pillows was a new approach for them, and he could see that Emily was intrigued by his decision. But that height elevated her pelvis enough that he knew they were in for a whole new experience from their experiments of the week before. And by the little anticipatory smile spreading across her face, he knew Emily was excited to try the new angle. It had been some years since he'd last tried it himself.

Long before Haley got pregnant.

"Legs up," he ordered seriously while pushing himself back and to his knees, "time to lock and load Agent Prentiss."

With a chuckle, she lifted her legs up and over his shoulders once more.

Then her mouth twisted in a little frown.

"But I guess no fun nipple stuff this time, huh?" She asked while slipping her other breast out of the little lacy enclosure.

She did so enjoy his nipple stuff. It wasn't at all the same playing with them herself.

Hotch's nose wrinkled as he looked down at her.

"Sorry," he murmured while pressing a kiss to first one . . . and then the other . . . perfectly pink and pert little nipple. "But that might be kind of difficult to do," he continued mumbling while licking around her areola, "and really focus on the other thing I had in mind. But I promise," his words became clearer when he suddenly pushed back to line up himself up at her warm entrance, "I'll make that up to you too."

Next time, he'd let her get on top for a while.

It would keep his hands free.

"Okay," she gave him a soft smile, feeling his breasts tingling from his brief touch, "I'll keep you to that."

Then she caught his hands, tangling their fingers . . . and with her tiny nod, he began to gently ease himself into her.

His breath immediately caught just as she bit down on her lip.

He was making sure to go slow, not only because it felt that much better . . . she was so hot and tight it was almost as intense as her blow job earlier . . . but also he wanted to be careful in case she still needed to adjust.

Two fingers were not nearly the same girth as a fully erect penis.

And he'd gone more than halfway in . . . for him that was probably more than four inches that had disappeared . . . when he saw Emily's lower lip pop out. Then she began to wriggle up against him.

"All the way," she pushed up again, taking him another half inch, "I want you inside me. I'm ready. Do it fast."

"Okay," he whispered, "if you're sure. Here we go." Then he gave one perfectly aligned . . . almost violent . . . thrust, burying himself balls deep, as far as he could go.

Her nails dug into the backs of his hands.

"Good job," she gasped. "Now do it again."

"Hold tight," he hissed while sliding back . . . and then he slammed into her again.

She moaned.

"Again."

So he went again. And she moaned again . . . and he pounded in. It was a rhythmic dance . . . her moans, his thrusts. Over . . . and over.

And over.

Going just as hard, and just as deep . . . all the way to the hilt . . . every time he entered her. The steeper angle was what made it possible. And Emily . . . the sweat started trickling down his back . . . God love her, she was making every stroke last. Because each time he went in, she pushed up to meet him . . . and her muscles locked down around him.

And she squeezed.

So the glide out was an even tighter ride than the one going in.

The friction was incredible. They were both panting and gasping. And when Emily could suck in enough oxygen, all Hotch could hear was her breathless urging for him to "fuck me harder." It had taken the place of her usual "oh Gods."

But this new mantra . . . he grunted and swiveled his hips again . . . was one that he could build a religion around! When it came to Emily, he was discovering that he would do basically anything that she asked him to do. That was how they'd ended up with the massage last week in Connecticut.

That was how they'd ended up in bed.

And so he was starting to wonder exactly how far he would really go for her . . . if there was anything he wouldn't do.

Just then he felt her whole body jerk up against his . . . and then the vibrations began to rocket through her uterus.

"OH GOD! OH GOD! IT'S HAPPENING!" Emily bit down a scream as she reached up, trying to pull him closer. "COME WITH ME AARON!"

Her words were a plea, and fortunately . . . given his realization of a moment before . . . he realized that he wasn't going to deny her this wish. Because he too could feel the wave rising higher and higher, his balls were tightening, his breathing was becoming erratic . . . he wasn't going to last much longer. He thrust into her again.

And then she lost all control.

She was screaming and gasping as she came, her fingers clutching the sheets and her body bucking up over and over. She was like a hell cat.

His, hell cat.

And feeling the last of his own control starting to rip away, he sucked in as deep a breath as he could manage, pulled back . . . and slid back into her again.

And again.

And again.

The sweat was now pouring off of him, the pleasure he was feeling indescribable. It wasn't only his own orgasm rising, but Emily's that was consuming him as well.

Her entire body was shaking, the blush traveling up her belly to her chest and face. It left her with a light pink glow. She was BEYOND gorgeous.

And that was for him too.

Just then she moved beyond the screams that he was growing to love so much. Now her eyes were watering and she was just gasping for air, her little mewling sounds a diametric counter to his masculine grunts and pants.

She was his yin.

"Keep going," she gasped, her hands coming up to yank on the pebbled tips of her nipples, "please, just keep hitting that saaaam . . . OH GOD!"

Her words were lost when her back arched for a second time.

"JESUS CHRIST!"

Just as she swore . . . and locked down completely around him . . . Hotch finally let go.

"FUUUCK!"

Once . . . twice . . . he could feel the explosion spilling out with each, now wobbily and shaking, thrust. The pleasure was washing over him, and he was coming so hard that he'd lost all control. The thrusts continued . . . because he just couldn't STOP! But sex with Emily was like that.

Out of this world.

"Come for me Aaron!" she cried, her voice rasping as she thrust up against him, "come for me!"

He sucked in another breath . . . his fingers digging into her slick hips, and hers again grasping frantically for a hold on the sweaty sheets . . . and with one final . . . gasping . . . shudder, he was done. There was nothing left. She'd taken everything that he had to give.

And a little bit more.

For a moment they were still, their ragged breaths the only sounds in the room. And then Emily gave him a sleepy grin right before she purred, "that's my guy."

"Couldn't have done it without you," he huffed back, his voice still coming out half in a pant as her legs fell from his shoulders.

Just as he went to reach for her . . . he really wanted another kiss, that was his only complaint with that position, no kissing . . . he got a spasm in his thigh. And at the angle he was, and the workout he'd just had, he went down like a bag of rocks, almost collapsing on her chest.

Fortunately he caught himself just before he crushed her.

With a pained grunt, his hands landed on either side of her head.

"Sorry," he hissed, while trying to push himself back up to a more dignified (manly) position, "Charlie Horse."

She didn't seem to care.

"It's okay hon," she whispered breathlessly while wrapping her long legs around his waist, squeezing him tight. "I'm consistently amazed that you can hold out as long as you do."

Then her arms came up to wrap around his neck, and she leaned in to give him one, long . . . soft . . . kiss.

It was enough to distract him from his aching thigh.

And when the kiss was done, she pulled him into a hug. Her arms around his chest, her legs wrapped around his waist.

His head was resting on her shoulder, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to will that little knot in his muscle to go away. Because he needed to get her out of the wet spot . . . but he also needed his leg to stop aching.

And he needed the second to happen before he could address the issue of the first.

But once he felt like he could again play alpha dog . . . without getting another stabbing pain in his muscle . . . he rolled to the side and onto his back.

Up Emily came with him, off the sticky pillows and sweaty sheets, both of them now out of the mess.

She snuggled in closer, burying her face in the curve of his throat, her hands palming his nipples while she squeezed her thighs tightly around his torso. Her desire to cuddle was something he was growing to enjoy.

A lot.

It was a different way of connecting. And after he'd pulled up a blanket from the floor and covered them up, is hand fell to rest on her bottom. His thumb was stroking along the soft skin as he bit back a yawn.

He was fucking wiped.

"That was amazing," she mumbled against his skin, "maybe even better than downstairs. Though I actually wouldn't have thought that was possible."

Hotch's eyes crinkled faintly.

"So I'm all forgiven now," he asked softly, his fingertips tapping on her left cheek, "right?"

"Well," she murmured, "you were still pretty mean to me. Getting me all worked up, and then stopping like that before I was totally done."

Clearly hearing the pout, even if he couldn't see it, Hotch's lips curved in a sleepy smile.

Orgasms could fix a lot . . . he palmed her smooth, beautifully shaped ass, with both hands . . . but they didn't fix everything. Which meant that it was time for a proper apology.

It was the only way to make it right.

"I'm sorry," he whispered with a little kiss to her sweaty temple, "I was just teasing you, but you're right, it wasn't a very nice thing to do." He moved one of his arms up then to wrap tightly around his waist, "and I promise that I won't do it again."

One thing that married life had taught him, no matter how innocently a comment, or an act, might have been intended, if the woman brought the 'incident' up for a second time, then it was indeed an 'incident.' One that was far from being concluded.

Not until a full apology had been made.

And also though . . . his nose wrinkled slightly as he thought back to the look on her face when he first pulled back . . . she did have a point.

He had kind of been a dick.

Emily lifted her head from Hotch's chest.

"Okay," her lip quirked up and their eyes caught, "with that verbal admission of guilt, and that thing where you gave me three mind blowing orgasms right in a row, we'll now consider the matter closed."

Seeing him mouth the words, 'thank you,' right before he shot her a drowsy wink, she knew that he was on the verge of passing out. But that wasn't a surprise. The man was a MACHINE! And absolutely, one hundred percent, knew how to apologize in style.

But she still wanted to hear the words too.

Not because she was still upset with him . . . slightly peeved maybe at the principle of it, that was NOT cool(!) . . . but more because for those few minutes there when he'd stopped, he had won that little exchange with her. And that was a precedent that could not stand.

But now he'd officially apologized, which meant that she had evened things out again.

Their karmic balance had been restored.

Just then she heard his soft snoring . . . from her experience, he wasn't a snorer, but right now his head was propped up at an odd angle . . . and she knew that he'd definitely passed out.

Her brow crinkled faintly as she pushed herself up.

"Poor Aaron," she murmured with a kiss to his brow, "you must be so tired."

She was too . . . these encounters with Hotch were infinitely better than any workout that she'd ever have at the gym . . . but clearly of the two of them, he was the one that had done most of the heavy lifting for the last hour. Seriously, if he didn't possess basically zero body fat . . . and enough musculature strength to dead lift probably twice his personal weight . . . it was likely that he would have collapsed long before that cramp had hit his thigh.

So in sympathy and gratitude for him bringing them both to that amazing place, and back again, she shifted back and down under the blankets to gently rub his sore hamstring.

She could tell it was still bothering him by the tension in the muscle.

But after a few minutes of her kneading that hard knot, she heard him sigh in his sleep. And then she heard him murmur her name, and she paused for a moment as a little flutter of butterflies floated through her stomach.

He was dreaming about her.

And she could tell from his tone that it was a happy dream. Because he'd just sighed again, and again murmured her name. His voice soft and pleading . . . he was calling out for her. Suddenly she desperately wanted to see if she could make her presence known to him there.

Off in his dreams.

So she tried to find a place for herself. A place where he would know that she was with him.

And that she cared about him.

She started with a soft kiss on his inner thigh, before shifting to place one on the little patch of hair on his lower pelvis. Then a swirl of her tongue in his belly button.

At that she felt his hips shift and a soft moan escape his lips.

And though she wanted to go back down and exercise her tongue again . . . this time by sucking his tip into her mouth . . . she knew that would be too much. He wasn't awake, so it wouldn't be right.

Particularly given her awareness of his still shifting comfort level with fellatio.

So instead of giving him the best sex dream of his life, she continued with her gentle . . . affectionate . . . kisses. Slowly, she crawled her way back up, her nipples brushing against his skin while she left a breadcrumb for each inch that she moved up his body.

A lick on that little dip of his breastbone. Another kiss on his chest . . . that one right over his heart . . . a gentle suck on his left nipple. A hard lick of his right.

And finally one last kiss on his lips.

The whole time she was moving up his body, he was making these soft little sounds. Sighs and moans, her name as a quiet murmur. And given that she was straddling his hips, she could feel that his penis was no longer nearly so flaccid as it was when she'd left it.

It wouldn't take much to make him hard again.

But again . . . she sighed and dropped her head to his shoulder . . . it just wasn't right to do it when he wasn't awake. A few little kisses were one thing, that was something else. Given that they were now in a VERY active sexual relationship, she would be perfectly fine with him leaving a few chaste kisses on her girl parts post coitus.

But what she would NOT be fine with, would be waking up to find him on top of her, pounding away.

Or course she knew that he would never in a million years do that. Not unless she gave him explicit permission to give her such an 'intimate' a wake-up call. Though she really doubted . . . no matter how committed the relationship . . . that she ever would actually tell any man that would be okay.

She certainly hadn't allowed it to date.

But that's because muscles needed to adjust and internal lubrication needed to be had. And those were factors that she needed to determine for herself before she allowed penetration by a fully erect member.

Especially if she was talking about a fully erect member the size of Hotch's.

And just thinking about its heat and length as it had moved in and out . . . especially as it was again brushing so insistently against her skin . . . was enough to get her libido racing again. But again . . . she squeezed her thighs together, hoping to make a little friction . . . she was also thinking that she was so fucking horny because her period was due any day now.

Crap . . . she took a few deep breaths . . . get it together Em. He's asleep, and he's exhausted, and so are you. So you need to table this little nympho routine for another day.

Fortunately that little bit of friction . . . and applying some mental discipline . . . was enough to calm her hormones.

So with a sigh she tugged the blankets up over her shoulders. Then she cuddled in close around his body, her thighs straddling his torso while she tucked her head in the curve of his neck.

Then his hand unexpectedly curled around her ankle.

Her lip quirked up . . . he did know she was there.

Right before she closed her eyes, Emily made a mental note to tell him about the sleep kissing when they woke up. They really should get these ground rules about 'sleep touching' sorted out now. Because who knew . . . she yawned . . . maybe he actually would have wanted her to slip back under the covers and give him the best sex dream of his life.

Could have been fun for both of them.

Oh well . . . she nuzzled his throat . . . there was always tomorrow.

A/N 2: I warned you it was a triple XXX! But in the original incarnation (with the additional 17 pages still coming) the sex was just an element, but you have to cut chapter, it gives the chapter a different feel than originally intended. So here, aside from the obvious physicality, the underlying element was them working out their mutual alpha control tendencies, which is something touched on regularly in the main Girl'verse. Hotch's more overt alpha possessiveness, tempered with Emily's softer (though no less effective) means of wrapping him around her little finger. Keeping their karma balanced.

And yes, Emily does have a LOT of amazing, like once in a lifetime, multiple orgasms! Let's not begrudge her, we should all be so lucky :) But seriously, if I was going to write a story about them getting together to have BAD sex, or simply 'adequate' sex, how many of you would still be here? Exactly.

The next chapter will be the conclusion of this night (for sure) and then we'll skip ahead a few days.

So thank you all for feedback to date, and any feedback in the future. Always appreciated :)