Found this hiding in one of my old folders. Short, but I thought it was worth sharing.
If he was being honest with himself, his current predicament wasn't exactly surprising. As a man confident in his own skin and capabilities, Morgan knew it to be a fantasy and nothing else - this was not uncommon, and definitely not the first time he'd had dreams of her; but the theme was definitely new.
From somewhere in the room, Clooney growled in his sleep, twitching in a dream as his mouth curled to bare a fang at some unseen creature he hunted. Something flittered in the darkness - a gash of red and a blur of grey; Clooney calmed almost in familiarity as the red hovered briefly above him. The dog snuffled once in his sleep, and was quiet once more.
His master though, seemed to be only just entering the realm of his fantasy.
She hovered over him, dominating the broad plane of his chest with hungry, sultry kisses of that red mouth of hers; her sharp nails leaving red scores where her mouth failed to touch. Morgan groaned in his throat and grunted as the pain jolted to his groin - he didn't remember her having long nails.
He wasn't ready to complain about them yet, though.
"Emily...."
The sigh of her name had come from his mouth several times before, in the darkness of his bedroom, in the emptiness of the night just the same, but for whatever reason there was - he couldn't touch her then. She was ethereal; there but not quite. It frustrated the man beneath her, he who had long grown accustomed to having the women in his dreams bend to his will and hands and body as and when he pleased. It would come as no surprise to know that Derek Morgan liked to dominate in bed, and it was no more of a surprise that Emily seemed to enjoy it all the same.
It seemed that she was enjoying it even more so at that moment.
A breathy, heady noise vibrated through him; a sultry hum of approval from Emily's mouth as she came upon the pulsing weight between his legs, the one she greeted with a feline grin and a cool palm. The groan that came from his throat was long, low, almost pained at the way she lavished him with her mouth.
She always had a mouth on her.
Her mouth, her body, her face -.
"Christ, Em, baby -."
She released him with a grin, all red lips and gleaming fangs - fangs that had no business being anywhere near his crotch. At any other moment of his life, perhaps he would've put up some sort of fight, to extract himself from her embrace, but goddamn, he'd never been so aroused in his life.
"Fuck!"
It was a cacophony of sensations that assaulted him then - she guided him inside her, and Morgan almost called out in tongues at the pleasure that enveloped him. Every fibre of his being ached to cry out, grunt or growl or swear; release the coiling tension in his chest and his groin, but it felt as if his lips were glued shut. Finally he reached out, palming the familiar weight of her hips against him and gripping the porcelain skin hard.
He wanted to bruise her, take something from her and leave something with her the same way she always took and left him.
She moved above him like a goddess; a wicked, sadomasochistic goddess of skill and beauty as her hips rolled and flexed and pressed into his muscular body with a greedy purpose. The slick sound of skin on skin rose in the air like the scent of sweat and heat and lust between them, and Emily keened low in her throat as his hands gripped deep, and she did too.
"This isn't the first time you've dreamt of me, is it?" Her husky whisper wrought shivers down his spine; her red lips pressed so close to his ear, her teeth nipping at the shell of it as she draped herself over his heaving chest like an overgrown cat. The new position made them gasp, one low and pained and the other high and sharp - and the man felt her teeth pressing into the taut skin of his neck.
Her tongue lapped over his carotid, tasting the salt of his sweat and the heat of his lust beneath his skin; the pounding of his heart and the blood flowing so close to her mouth only served to drive the woman higher in her search for release and satisfaction.
He felt her smile briefly into his skin, her tongue warm as she latched onto the pounding of his pulse.
There was a growl from his left - low and grating to the ear; nothing to have ever come from Clooney's throat before. Through the cloud of lust, Morgan opened his hazy eyes to spare his dog a glance, only to find an uncomfortably familiar figure standing by his bed.
"Hotch?"