Profiler, Profiled

Emily couldn't sleep.

It was late at night – or very early morning – and she was lying wide awake, staring at the ceiling of some Chicago hotel room, counting the holes in the tiles, while JJ snored faintly in the next bed. She wondered how she did it – how she seemingly dropped off to sleep with but a few moments of tossing and turning. She supposed it came with practice, with years of cases and night after night away from home.

She wasn't yet used to being far from home, without Ian's form warm against her back and gentle snores by her ear to soothe her to sleep when her mind was racing long into the night. Occasionally, when she had a particularly bad sleepless night, he would lie awake with her, stroking her hair and singing old Irish lullabies in her ear in his soft brogue. Sometimes, she wondered how she'd ever slept without him.

She rolled over and glanced at the clock beside the bed reading two AM. In a little under four hours, the alarm would go off and she'd have to start her day without a minute of sleep to show for the night.

She knew Ian would still be awake, in spite of the late hour. When she wasn't home, he often stayed up late into the night – he used to use that time to do business before she'd gotten him out, but she didn't know what he used that time for anymore and she never asked.

She quietly dialled his number, just wanting to hear his voice and pretend he were there next to her.

"What are you still doing awake, Love?" he asked by way of answering the call, voice gravelly with whiskey.

"Thinking of you," she whispered. She hadn't thought she'd miss him as much as she did.

He chuckled, low in his throat. "Oh, really?" She didn't need to see his face to know the exact expression on it, that mischievous but undeniably charming grin that never failed to send heat coursing straight through her.

"Not like that," she chastized, but unable to help the smile quirking the corners of her lips or the sudden wetness from pooling between her legs.

"Are you touching yourself?" he asked, voice husky with arousal.

"Do you want me to?" she asked, teasing him, knowing full well the answer.

She could hear the sound of him undoing his zipper, followed by a soft groan and she imagined him taking his cock in his hand and stroking himself slowly. The image thrilled her a little.

"Always," he answered, voice broken by grunts of pleasure as he stroked himself.

She laughed softly, deciding to oblige him since she was awake anyway. If anything, an orgasm or two would help soothe her to sleep. "Tell me how..." she breathed into the phone in that tone she knew he found irresistible.

"Two fingers. Nice and slow. Don't you dare touch your clit, Emily," he ordered.

She whimpered softly in protest, but obeyed nonetheless, slowly slipping her hand below the waistband of her panties, sinking two fingers inside herself with a soft keening sound. She was wet already, unsure if it was from Ian's voice or the thought of getting herself off while JJ slumbered a bed away, not even a wall between them. She had a bit of an exhibitionist streak that Ian loved.

"They're my fingers," he told her. "Tell me how they feel."

She groaned, imagining the feel of him knuckle deep inside her. "They're rough and...and thick and, God, they feel good," she described, panting slightly as her fingers slipped in and out.

She sped up her ministrations, hips bucking and writhing in time with his ragged breathing. She had to sink her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from crying out as her fingers hit just the right spot, sending shock waves through her body. Her heart rate spiked sharply and she could feel her face flushing with the effort of restraining herself when all she wanted to do was come then and there. But she knew she had to wait for his permission.

She heard him groan and she couldn't help the breathy little chuckle she let out, imagining him, cock in hand, face contorted in ecstasy. She wished she were there, her hand wrapped around his meaty cock or, better yet, her lips, bringing him off.

"Use one hand on your tits, Love," he demanded and she could hear in his voice the effort of holding back his climax.

She whimpered softly at the command, pressing her phone between her shoulder and her ear because she couldn't put it on speaker. She massaged one breast through her shirt with rough uncareful fingers like he would've, never one for softness, for gentleness. That was fine with her, as she liked it rough and he knew it. She rolled one nipple between her fingers until it was swollen and pebbled and she had to fight back a moan of pleasure. "Yes, Ian!"

"You like that, don't you?" he taunted. "Don't stop. Keep fucking yourself, just like that."

"It feels so good," she purred, unable to stop even if she'd wanted to. Her cunt was tightening around her fingers in response to her pinching her nipples and she knew it wouldn't be much longer before she couldn't keep her orgasm back any longer.

"Are you wet for me?" Ian asked, voice raspy with arousal and liquor.

"So wet," she husked. She popped her fingers into her mouth, the taste of her arousal on her tongue, and slicked them up before slipping them back into her dripping pussy, fucking herself harder and faster.

He hummed low in his throat. "I want that hot cunt..."

"Fuck," she hissed, scissoring her fingers inside herself. "I want you inside me. Please, Ian, let me touch my clit..."

He growled. "Emily..." he said warningly.

"Please, Ian...I need..."

"You'll wait for permission," he said sharply. Emily wasn't submissive in her everyday life, but when it came to sex, she loved to let him have complete control. She knew it turned him on to have her completely subservient to his every need and whim.

"Yes, Ian," she said softly, obediently.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Yes, Ian," she repeated louder.

She knew his expression would be smug if she were able to see it. "Tell me what you want, Love," he drawled, entirely too pleased with himself.

"I want you to shove your dick inside me," she whispered, adding another finger to better fill her aching need, "Over and over and you're stretching me so good – ah – it h-hurts, but I fucking love it."

He hissed and she knew he was struggling not to come at the visual of her crude words.

"You're fucking me so hard and I'm screaming your name and you hit that sweet spot and...oh, Ian, fuck me with that hot fucking cock and fill me with that sweet cum," she begged.

"You have a filthy fucking mouth, Emily – I fucking love it." She could hear the sloppy sound of his dick slicked with precum sliding in and out of his grip and it sent a thrill coursing through her.

"You want to come, I can tell," she teased. "Let me touch my clit and we can come together. Please?"

"Alright, Em, touch your clit. Imagine it's me."

"Fuck, Ian, Ian..." she chanted, hips thrusting in time with her fingers inside herself over and over, thumb furiously rubbing her clit until she was on the verge of climax.

"Come for me," he ordered. "Come all over your fingers just like you would my cock."

Finally, she could stand it no longer and she clapped one hand over her mouth to stifle her cries and keep from waking JJ. She came with a muffled moan, back arching into her fingers, juices collecting in the palm of her hand.

He grunted her name as he came, listening to her ragged breathing. "Shame you had to stifle your moans...you always make me come so hard."

"Now I want your cock more than ever," she whined, satisfied, but wanting more.

"Patience, Love," he said with a laugh.

"I miss you," she said softly. Then, she heard the unmistakable sound of JJ waking up. "I've got to go. Love you."

JJ grumbled sleepily. "Were you saying something?" she asked, stretching her arms overhead.

"Nope. Maybe you were dreaming." She tried to inconspicuously wipe her juices off on her shorts. Aftershocks were still twitching inside her and she kind of wanted to touch herself a second time, thinking of Ian coming to the sound of her voice.

JJ mumbled indistinctly and rolled over to go back to sleep, but Emily wasn't sure she hadn't heard more than she'd let on.