A/N: THIS CHAPTER IS M-RATED. Not changing the entire story rating just for this chapter, but please beware.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Author: hotchityhotchhotch
Hotch almost made the mistake of tossing his keys onto his kitchen table when he got back to his apartment around midnight. He no longer had a kitchen table. He had almost nothing left in his apartment, really. Only the necessities. The movers had taken everything else. His remaining furniture consisted of a mattress that was so old he'd decided he'd have the movers leave it there so he had something to sleep on, and that he'd toss it before leaving. His stomach grumbled, and he realized he'd been drinking the entire night without much food in his stomach. He was actually surprised he'd felt well enough to drive home. The gurgling prompted him to call and order a pizza.
Emily had mentioned her grandfather to Hotch a few times in passing. All Hotch knew was that Emily's grandfather had lived in the wilderness in the French Alps, all by himself, and had for almost a decade since retiring. Emily had spent time up in the mountains with him when she was younger, but hadn't seen him since before college. She'd seemed to take the news in stride, and although Hotch knew her to be calm and collected when she needed to be, he wasn't sure why she was putting up such a front. When she had spoken of her grandfather, it had always been with extreme fondness. She had every reason to break down at a time like this.
Hotch had stuck around a little while after the news, standing uncomfortably in the hallway as Emily's father held onto her, much more for his own sake than for hers, as it was his father who had passed, and Emily seemed to be holding up all right. Her mother had holed up in her office, presumably already getting a start on funeral arrangements and notifying other relatives.
It had seemed as though Emily had been oblivious to Hotch's standing there like a fool with his hands stuffed in his pockets. On one hand, he'd desperately wanted to high-tail it out of the mansion like their friends had done. On the other hand, he was leaving the next afternoon, and tonight's plans had been his last with Emily. Not only could he not stand the idea of not seeing her again, but he couldn't imagine leaving her like this, either.
Luckily for Hotch, Emily's father had finally released her, muttering something about making himself some tea. Emily had the opportunity to pay Hotch some attention.
"Are you okay?" he'd asked as he'd pulled her into her arms.
"I will be," Emily had said shakily. "I haven't seen him in so long. It hasn't really sunken in yet."
"Yeah." Hotch had finally heard a sniffle issue at his chest as Emily's tears demanded freedom. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"No. But thanks. I should um…probably be with my dad." Emily had backed away and dabbed at her meticulously made-up eyes. "Thanks for staying."
"Of course. I'm sure you'll be busy tomorrow, so I guess this is…" He couldn't say the word, so he ran his hands gently up and down her arms.
"Yeah." Emily had stepped back in for another hug. "Keep in touch, okay?"
"I will. I'll give you a call when I get there."
Emily had nodded and backed away again, this time for good. "Good. Have a safe flight."
Hotch had nodded back and let himself outside. Just before Emily had shut the giant door behind him, he'd turned around. "If there's anything I can do while I'm still in town, let me know. I'm still in my apartment tonight. My phone's still on." Emily's dark eyes had glistened at this, making Hotch unsure whether her tears had been for him or for her grandfather.
Now he stood in his empty apartment that he'd spent most of the day cleaning. He literally had almost nothing left. He wasn't tired, but the only place to sit was on the bed or on the floor. He tried the bed, but felt ridiculous sitting on a mattress on the floor in a tuxedo. He decided he probably had enough time to sneak in a shower before his pizza arrived. His timing was just right—as soon as he was dressed again in shorts and a t-shirt and his rental tux was hung up, a knock sounded at his door. In a frenzy he searched for his wallet and dug out a ten.
Boy, was this a pretty pizza delivery boy.
"Emily."
Emily stood in his doorway, still in costume. "Hey." Her cheeks had tear tracks, but her makeup had remained intact and she was no longer crying.
"Come on in. What's going on?" Hotch asked, stuffing his money in his shorts pocket once Emily was inside.
She shrugged, her still perfect curls bouncing a little. "I just…needed to get out of there. My dad's tea turned out to be a bottle of brandy and my mom won't let me help with any of the arrangements. It felt weird being at home if I wasn't doing anything. God, this place is empty," she marveled once she thought she'd made enough noise about why she was there. She didn't need to tell him that she'd also come back for some sort of closure—he knew that. He had to.
"Yeah, movers came this morning."
"I guess I'd've known that if I ever came over anymore." Emily had refused many of Hotch's invitations over to his apartment ever since the night she'd found out about Seattle. She hadn't been sure she'd be able to keep things platonic until his departure, but she'd known from the get-go that it definitely wasn't going to happen if they spent any more time alone in private places than was absolutely necessary.
"You've had a lot going on," Hotch said.
"Oh, please. I haven't been busy. Just in denial." She offered Hotch a pitiful grin.
"You know, I wish now more than ever that I didn't have to go. I hate to leave you in the middle of all this."
"No, it's—it's okay. We'll probably be going to France in a couple of days."
"He's being buried there?"
"Oh, I guarantee you. And our family lives pretty much everywhere, so no matter which way you slice it, most of us will have to travel." Emily set her purse down on the kitchen counter.
"Ah. Can I get you a beer? That's all I have left in the fridge. Pizza's on the way."
"I think I'll pass on the beer, but pizza sounds good."
"Sorry, there's nowhere to sit. I just left my mattress and some sheets. And toiletries and a couple changes of clothes. Everything else went with the movers. Speaking of clothes, I need to remember to return that tux."
"Thanks for coming tonight, and for doing the whole costume thing. I hope you had fun."
Hotch smiled so widely that he was sure it wasn't convincing. "Yeah, it was great. It was a good idea." Emily nodded and crossed her arms over her middle, leaning against the counter in the kitchen only big enough for one. Hotch made it big enough for two, leaning against the fridge right across from Emily. "How are you holding up?" he asked gently, as if speaking to a child.
"Okay, I think," Emily said, though her voice quivered. She drew in a deep shaky breath, her cheeks flushing right before her eyes went shiny. "Sorry," she said, sniffling.
"It's okay." Hotch closed the four-inch gap between them and circled his arms tightly around her. "I'm so sorry, Emily." She wept rather quietly into Hotch's shoulder for a few long minutes, calming down gradually, pulling away just as another knock issued at the door. "You gonna be okay for a second?"
"Yeah, yeah," Emily said, nodding hastily and waving Hotch away. She waited until he vacated the kitchen, then made her way to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. Taking comfort in the fact that Hotch had seen her look much worse than this, she re-emerged and took a slice of pizza from the box that sat open on the counter, holding it with a napkin.
"Hey, umm, would it make you feel better to talk about your grandfather? Tell me some funny stories or something? When my dad passed away, we did that a lot. It helped."
"Maybe, I don't know. I've never lost anyone close before. Not that we'd been close the past few years. He didn't even have a phone up there. He'd get messages only if locals from down in town came up to visit. So when I say I hadn't seen him in five years, it means I hadn't really talked to him in five years, either."
The guilt behind Emily's voice pained Hotch. "That happens. A lot of people manage to lose touch with their relatives who do have phones. It's nothing to feel bad about. Try telling me about a happy memory." He took a large bite of pizza to let Emily know the floor was hers.
"Okay. Umm, one time, when I was probably thirteen or fourteen, I was staying with him by myself, and a huge brown bear came up to the window. We just froze. I don't know if that's what we were supposed to do, but we sat there for five minutes straight, watching him watching us. It was hilarious. We still tell everyone that story." Emily started to tear up again, so Hotch intervened.
"Okay, not a good idea. I'm sorry. I guess it doesn't work for everyone. Do you want to sit down?"
"Yeah, my feet are killing me, actually." Emily followed Hotch into his bedroom, where the only piece of furniture left resided. She lowered herself down to the beige sheets and stretched her legs out, groaning as she did so.
"Foot rub?" Hotch offered as innocently as possible.
"Don't you want to finish eating?"
"I'm not starving," Hotch lied. "I can finish later." With his dinner being Emily's only objection, he assumed he had permission, so he sat on the floor in front of Emily's feet and removed her shoes. She let him, looking down on him heatedly once he took one of her aching stocking-clad feet into his thick, broad hands.
"So why didn't you just stay in a hotel?" Emily asked, doing her best to repress the noises she wanted to make as Hotch rubbed his tough thumbs into the ball of her foot.
"Not worth the money. I figured it would just be me, and the utilities are still on, so what's one night?"
"Yeah," Emily said, eying the window unit air conditioner that had been giving Hotch problems all summer long. A box fan ran in the other window. Sometimes it was too disgusting for her in his apartment, but he never seemed to mind. "Guess that makes sense."
Hotch continued his work in silence, the only noise in the room being the fan, their breathing, and Emily's occasional delighted moan when she couldn't help it. He could have rubbed her feet all night and been a happy man, but once he cracked Emily's toes for her, she folded her feet in front of her so as to end the massage. "Thanks," she said.
"Of course," Hotch said, sitting next to her. "Nice touch with the stockings, by the way. Is that a seam up the back?"
"Mm-hmm. Thanks for noticing. I didn't think anyone did."
"More pizza?" he asked as he stood up suddenly, wolfed down his pizza crust and crumpled his napkin.
Emily looked down at her half-eaten piece. "I'm okay," she said. "Thanks."
"No problem." Hotch came back from the kitchen empty-handed, not wanting to eat if Emily wasn't going to. Reclaiming his seat next to his silent friend, he thought of what to say that might make this night a little easier on her, or on them both. "Feeling a little better?"
A pensive look washed over Emily's face, signaling to Hotch that she was looking for how to phrase an honest answer instead of giving him some canned response. "Honestly, I don't think so. Tonight just…I can't even begin to describe how much tonight sucks. I lost my grandfather, and now I'm losing you." She leaned readily into Hotch when he gripped her far shoulder.
"I'll only be a phone call away. And at least me going away was something we could both prepare for. Goodbyes are never fun, but it won't be goodbye forever. I'm sure we'll see each other again."
"I know. Maybe this summer was just too nice. Too good to be true. I mean, it was true, but now it's back to reality, you know? I'm not a kid. I need to start working."
"Taking a summer off to think doesn't make you childish. Maybe running away from the mall police does," he said lightheartedly, "But this summer sounds like something you needed. And I'm sure you'll figure out something soon in terms of a job."
"Yeah," Emily said vaguely. She twisted her torso and went chest-to-chest with Hotch, burying her face in his neck, drawing in his freshly cleaned scent with deep breaths. When her mouth, without her permission, touched his neck, her heart thudded, though not in protest. She'd felt this with him more times than she could count. Felt like taking all of him, or at least all he would offer. Before she could second guess herself, she parted her lips considerably and took a bit of Hotch's sweet flesh between them. He responded favorably, his hands going instantly to her hair. Apparently he'd been planning to run his fingers through her usually straight locks, but her curls were an obstacle. One small sigh passed his lips before he palmed her cheek and guided her face to meet his. Following a fleeting union of their eyes, he snatched up the lips he he'd gone far too long without tasting.
It was without a single thought that Emily opened her mouth to Hotch immediately, rubbing her eager tongue against his. She gathered his face in her small hands, trying to will him to unzip her dress. Not only could she hardly breathe in the damned thing, but she'd decided now that she couldn't let him leave. Not without this.
"Are you sure?" Hotch asked breathily, breaking the kiss for just a moment when Emily released his face and reached behind her to unzip her dress when he hadn't tuned in to her telepathy.
"Yeah," she sighed, kissing him fervently for another moment before using her hand to push herself off the mattress. Hotch stood swiftly with her and watched, his hands caressing newly exposed skin once Emily unzipped her dress the rest of the way and slid it down her hips. She donned the same strapless bra he'd seen once before, but his attention was focused more keenly on the black lacy panties over a matching garter belt that held up her black seamed stockings. He felt a warm stirring in a place that craved attention as he stepped closer to her and braced her face with his hands. They shared yet another frenzied kiss, a sloppy and unapologetic one. Emily broke away in due time, grasping the hem of Hotch's t-shirt and pulling it over his head. A tug of his arm urged back down onto the bed with her. She gladly accepted his weight on top of her for a while, but eventually he shifted his weight to the side a bit, rubbing his growing member against her thigh, desperately wishing to rid himself of his shorts.
His wish was granted soon enough when Emily pushed at the waistband, sliding her hands up his firm, bare ass once his shorts slid underneath them. An appreciative moan vibrated against Emily's velvety lips right before Hotch rolled off to the side to lose his shorts. Once he faced her again, he made it obvious that he enjoyed what he saw before him, but that he also wanted more. Emily arched her back to let Hotch do the honors, watching him toss her bra a few feet away. He swelled even further against her leg now as he dotted two kisses on the side of one breast before taking a mouthful of the soft flesh. Emily's breathing went a bit more erratic as Hotch teased her, placing his lips everywhere but on her peaked, rosy nipple. Any frustration she felt was forgotten when he reached a hand between them and rubbed two fingers over the front of her panties. She whimpered at his surprising touch, her breath hitching in her throat when he immediately latched on to her other nipple and bit down gently.
"Hotch, hurry," she gasped, swallowing.
"Hurrying," Hotch said reassuringly before leaving a hurried kiss on her lips. He had to move on knee to the carpet to reach his wallet, which he'd tossed in the corner. He tore open a condom wrapper with his teeth, grunting when Emily took his length into one fist without warning.
Knowing that to have Hotch, finally, she needed to let him do his thing, she lifted her hips and slid her panties down to her feet, kicking them aside, while Hotch made quick work of rolling on the condom and finding a place between her open legs.
Emily made herself comfortable with the single pillow behind her head, then clutched Hotch's back as he positioned himself. Her back arched reflexively, pushing her chest upward, when he started his painstakingly slow entrance. It wasn't until he was fully buried, both of them releasing the breaths they held onto, that he lowered his chest to hers. He swallowed up her lips again before starting the roll of his hips. Her constricted opening throttled him, stroked his shaft so tightly that he didn't know if he'd make it long. His pace remained slow and torturous, letting Emily adjust. She eventually opened up just a little bit more for him, so he propped himself up on his elbows and changed his angle, coming in from higher up.
Emily moaned heavily beneath Hotch, looking at him helplessly, none of it for show, as his quicker pace smoothly pleased her from deep within. She busied her hands by letting them glide up and down the firm musculature on his back, her fingernails ghosting along his skin. After a few minutes, she felt herself climbing higher, and thanked her lucky stars when Hotch started the same journey, his hips pulling and pushing with even more speed now. His motions soon lost control and predictability as he reached down to take in Emily's lips again. Their tongues slipped carelessly against each other. Needing him not only faster but deeper, Emily hitched her still stocking-sheathed legs around Hotch and kicked her heels into his ass.
"Hotch," she whined. "Ohhhh, Hotch!"
"Mmm Em," he replied, an inferno raging where his flesh now slapped against hers. "So close, baby…" he added, panting now.
Emily peaked before she meant to, unable to control her body. She cried out loud enough for the neighbors to hear as she came long and hard around him. "Come for me, Aaron," she whispered as Hotch continued his sprint to the finish line and she rode out her own orgasm. He drew in a deep breath and kept it as the waves of mind-numbing pleasure coursed through him. He said nothing, only groaned into the crook of Emily's neck as he carried himself over the edge.
"That's it," Emily breathed encouragingly, enjoying the residual motion between her legs, almost regretting that he wouldn't keep going long enough for her to come a second time.
—
The sticky heat roused Emily many hours later. The fact that she was nestled into Hotch, her back to his chest, probably wasn't helping. His head was on the pillow his arm opened to serve as one for her. Sometime before settling in, they'd covered themselves in the sheets, Emily remembered now, but both of them had kicked their hot feet free sometime between now and then. The buzzing fan wasn't doing a thing to keep the room at a livable temperature.
There was no way she was getting back to sleep, at least not this hot. That much Emily knew. The rising sun shined through the window, which neither of them had thought to block with the blinds the night before. The bright light fell over their haphazard piles of clothing here and there. Emily saw her dress and her stockings and garter belt (which Hotch had insisted on taking off personally before they turned in) crumpled on the floor. She began to think of whether she should run for it. As much as she'd wanted a better goodbye with Hotch, and as much as she'd wanted this practically since they'd befriended one another, it dawned on her now that coming here had been a very big mistake.
Her slight movement in the direction of her clothes jostled Hotch awake immediately.
"Hey," he mumbled, brushing his hand over her stomach. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm just boiling."
"It is pretty nasty in here, isn't it?"
"Ugh, how do you ever sleep in this?" Emily asked, rolling onto her back.
Hotch gazed down at the beauty next to him, the smoothly rolling curves, the deep, dark eyes framed by lashes so long and bold that he wondered if they were real. The dark hair resting in random waves on her shoulder. "It's not easy getting an affordable apartment around here with all the basic amenities I do have, let alone working air conditioning," he said, leaning down for a kiss. Emily granted him that much, but moaned in protest and tore her lips away when he began to roll on top of her. "What's wrong?" he asked, backing off.
Emily shut her eyes and made a quick decision. She knew she could leave and Hotch couldn't rightfully pose any objection. They'd agreed to remain only friends, and he'd impressed upon her that he wanted her to pick a plan and stick with it. He was breaking his own rules right along with her. He couldn't be angry with her if she felt stupid for last night. So she knew she could leave. She could remove his arm from around her, get dressed, and walk away.
But that notion was unbearable now. "It's just too hot. Do you mind if I take a shower?"
"Oh, of course not. Go for it. There's a clean towel in there."
"Thanks." Unable to help herself, Emily left Hotch with a kiss. She shut the bathroom door behind her, hoping that was hint enough that she wanted to take a shower to clean herself off and cool down, not dirty herself up and heat things up. She set the water to lukewarm and stepped in. She thought at first that the shower would be a good place to think, to try and convince herself she had to go, to figure out a way to say goodbye to Hotch without hurting him. But the longer she lathered the shampoo in her hair, the longer she ran her hands along her own body to wash it clean, the more aroused she became. By the time the lukewarm water started going cold, Emily had no will power left. She didn't think she'd actually waltz back to bed naked, but she knew she couldn't leave. Not yet. She needed to be close to him—whatever form that closeness took—for a little while longer. When she opened the bathroom door, she saw a pair of green drawstring shorts and a grey t-shirt with an FBI emblem on it (she almost laughed), both Hotch's, as well as her own panties, folded on the floor. "Thanks," she said again.
"No problem," Hotch said from the bedroom, just out of Emily's line of vision. She dressed, gave her hair one last tousle with the towel, checked herself in the mirror to make sure her makeup had all been removed. She found Hotch lying in bed, now with his shorts back on.
"Hi," she said meekly.
"Hey." Hotch's ankles were crossed over the end of the mattress and his hands clasped behind his head. "Cool down a bit?"
"Yeah, a little." Emily leaned against the door frame, watching Hotch watch her while she toyed with the drawstring on her borrowed shorts.
"You hungry? There's leftover pizza, or we could go out," Hotch offered up.
Food sounded heavenly, but Emily wanted something else even more. She shook her head and walked over to the bed, lying on top of the sheets again with Hotch. Now his body heat wasn't so repulsive, so she shamelessly buried her face into his chest and hooked her top arm underneath his.
"You smell good," Hotch remarked, gently nudging some wet strands of hair off of Emily's face.
"I smell like you."
"Like I said..." Hotch said with a grin, earning himself a little pinch from Emily.
"You smell sweaty."
"At the moment, yeah, I guess I do. Want me to shower?"
"No," Emily said, drawing away slightly so Hotch could see her eyes, but grasping his waist so he couldn't go anywhere. Once she saw his eyes searching hers for some sort of hidden message, she closed hers and moved her chin down to her chest, suddenly afraid of what Hotch might see.
"What's the matter?" Hotch asked, knowing it was a horrible question, but not knowing what else to ask. Maybe he could at least figure out what was bothering her the most at this moment. As much as he cared and didn't want her to be hurting at all, he couldn't help but hope that it was he over whom she was so upset. He had to remind himself that her grandfather had just passed away, though, and that he himself was probably the least of her worries.
"I just wish you could stay," Emily said simply. "Does that sound pathetic?"
"Of course not. I wish I could stay, too. But this doesn't—" Hotch stopped his sentence only briefly, perhaps just so he could say he thought about it first. "It doesn't have to be like this. Why don't you come with me? I mean, if you're not finding anything here, and you're not sure what you want to do anyway, why not come to Seattle? It's a huge city."
The objection was clear in Emily's voice. "Hotch—"
He cut her off rudely with his lips, sealing off her protests. "It makes sense," he said, only breaking away long enough to get his point in before smothering her again.
Emily knew that now she just wasn't being fair. She was downright lying, letting Hotch think he could change her mind. This provoked her to pull away.
"Emily—"
"I'm thirsty. Do you have any glasses left here?"
Somewhat impatiently, Hotch sighed. "Maybe. Let's go check."
Emily knew she wasn't going to get Hotch off her back, so she let him follow her to the kitchen. He did find a lone plastic cup in the cupboard above the sink and filled it for her with cold tap water.
Emily grinned her gratitude and took a long drink, dabbing the corner of her lips once her thirst—she hadn't truly lied about being thirsty—was satisfied.
"Better?" Hotch asked.
"Mm-hmm," Emily barely had the time to utter before she was pressed against the counter firmly yet in a controlled manner by Hotch, who framed her face with his thick, somewhat sweaty hands and kissed her with fervor again. Nothing in her heart or her mind told her to resist this time. Her primal urges, along with the realization that she'd never been in love until now, drove her to reach around Hotch's bare back and push the heels of her hands upward until she reached his shoulders. What started out to be a hard but clean kiss turned frenzied over the course of a minute or two, at which point Emily felt something unexpected yet perfectly reasonable against her thigh. Expelling a sharp breath through her nose, as her lips were smashed against Hotch's for the time being, Emily reached between them and lay her hand against Hotch's swollen cock that tented his shorts. Hotch faltered, then smiled against Emily's lips. "That was all I had, prophylactic-wise" he informed her. "Are you on the pill?"
"Yes, but you're still using a condom. There's one somewhere in my purse." Emily reached for her black glittery satchel and unzipped it. Hotch sucked gingerly on her neck in the meantime, wanting a taste but trying not to leave a mark. He multitasked, dropping his shorts at the same time. While Emily dug through her small bag, Hotch pulled the knot loose on the drawstring of Emily's borrowed shorts, then pushed them and her own panties down her hips at once. She finally found what she was looking for, handed it over, and hoisted herself up onto the counter top while He sheathed himself so quickly that she didn't even have time to think about removing the shirt of his that she wore. When she finally did think about it, as he assaulted her with frenzied kisses again, she decided that making love with him with this particular shirt on didn't bother her a bit.
Emily had known when she'd perched herself on the counter top that it was just a matter of time before she smashed her head back against a cabinet. At least she'd had the sense to position herself away from any handles, because she forgot about her placement already and threw her head back when Hotch entered her. She laughed briefly, nodding when he asked her if she was all right.
Hotch was taking the Lord's name in vain in no time as he pulled himself out and swept his hips forward again. Emily grabbed him in every way possible, her tight heat gripping him like a vice, her heels already pressing encouragingly against his ass, her short but effective nails surely leaving indentations on his upper back.
Their second rendezvous was just as impassioned as the first, though a little less gentle and meticulous at the start. Hotch's hot, muggy breath hit Emily's partly opened mouth as he came nose-to-nose with her, losing focus on her drooping eyes. Soft, helpless moans bubbled up intermittently from her throat as his tempo picked up considerably after a very short period of time.
Occasionally, the soft cotton of the t-shirt Emily hadn't taken off would brush against Hotch's sweaty chest, surprising him. He moved his hands from her hips, which were sitting still just fine on their own, to the hem of the shirt, where he sneaked a hand underneath.
Emily felt herself slipping a bit, so she let go of Hotch's back in favor of reaching behind her for some cabinet handles. Hotch's hand caught Emily completely by surprise when it smoothed along her stomach and traveled upward to squeeze a breast with vigor. After she arched her back against him and knocked her head against the cabinet again, he kneaded her like dough, pinching her hardened bud between his thumb and forefinger to get a different sort of noise out of her.
"Haaa," Emily breathed, not in a laughing way at all, as Hotch toyed with her breast and continued with his hurried pounding at the same time. Hotch slightly stifled her soft cries that followed with his mouth, their lips open and just far enough apart that any lucky observer would be able to see their tongues sliding against one another.
As the waves started to roll between Hotch's legs and he knew his climax was imminent, he found Emily's slippery clit with his free hand and flicked the side of his finger against the tip. Her teeth bore down on his tongue, making him hiss.
"Sorry," Emily panted. "So sorry. Are you okay?"
"It's okay, I'm fine. You gonna come with me?"
"Uh-huh." She struggled to vocalize anything coherent now, being physically gratified in so many ways she was losing count. "Faster," she sighed.
Hotch obliged, amping it up and feeling ready to burst not even a minute later. He waited until Emily's walls started to tighten around him before he moved his hands to join hers up against the cupboard. With a fire that Emily had never seen before, Hotch's eyes drilled holes into hers for a fleeting moment before they were both overwhelmed and could no longer keep their eyes open.
Their clammy fingers interlaced right before Emily dug her fingernails into the back of Hotch's hands so hard that if he wasn't in the middle of the best orgasm of his life, tears would have come to his eyes.
Hotch heard his name cried out repeatedly; it sounded as if it were far off in the distance. After he slowly came down from his own high, cursing all the way, he panted into Emily's ear while her back remained arched, her chest forced out to touch his. "Em," he sighed before dropping a kiss on her temple.
Emily almost wouldn't let Hotch's hands go so he could take care of the condom. "I'm not going anywhere," he said with a light, reassuring laugh and a kiss.
Still without having had caught her breath, Emily hopped off the counter and found out the hard way that her limbs were useless. Luckily, she caught herself on the opposite counter when her knees protested slightly beneath her.
It wasn't long before Emily was coming to her senses. "I should get dressed. I really should get home," she said.
"Of course," Hotch said, disappointed but understanding of what he thought her reasoning was—to get home so her parents knew she was okay and so she could prepare for her departure. "Keep mine, if you'll feel silly going home in a red dress right now."
"Good point," Emily said, searching the linoleum floor for her bottoms, trying to figure out which pair was whose, her heart sinking all the while.
"I meant what I said," Hotch said before he could stop himself. He pulled on his own shorts and watched, without the power to turn his eyes, while Emily finished dressing as well. "You should come with me." He felt a pounding all the way from his chest to his head when he saw the sad—and almost guilty—look on Emily's face. He sensed another attempt at her rejection, despite their second demonstration that what they had was definitely something worth fighting for. He didn't think he'd be able to bear hearing her say no, so he said the only thing he thought might keep her from leaving him. "I love you. Come with me."
Emily's gloomy eyes grew wide at this profession. It tore her to pieces inside knowing that she couldn't return such a sentiment without hurting him further.
"Hotch…"
"Don't," he said authoritatively. "Emily, you know this isn't supposed to be some fling," he went on, closing in on her with slow steps. "If it was, you wouldn't have come back here tonight. You had a clean out. You're going to be traveling soon, and I'm leaving and might never come back. You could have let this come to a natural end. But you didn't."
"I don't think this was just a fling," Emily argued. "But that's not what's important. I…can't go with you. And this is why I said we had to stay friends. I didn't want…this," she said, tears brimming her eyelids. "This kind of goodbye is so much harder."
"So you're not denying the fact that this is something worth holding onto."
Emily rolled her watery eyes and backed away from Hotch, further into the tiny kitchen. "That's irrelevant," she said weakly.
"Anything but," Hotch fought back. "What the hell is keeping you here? The parents you can hardly stand to be around? Or the friends you rarely see?"
"It's not about that."
"Then what the hell is it about?" Hotch cried. "Why are you making things so complicated when they don't have to be?"
Emily took a deep breath. She couldn't blame Hotch for raising his voice. "I don't exactly have a lack of job prospects here."
Hotch stopped in his tracks, two feet from Emily. "You told me last night that you still had no idea what you were doing."
"And I'm saying now that that wasn't exactly the truth."
"Why would you feel the need to lie? Did you think I wouldn't be happy for you?"
"That wasn't my reasoning, though it probably would've been rather valid," Emily pointed out. "I just…didn't want you to get the wrong idea."
"Can you clarify that at all?"
"I'm looking into going into the Bureau," Emily said, swallowing.
"Seriously?"
"Yes, very seriously. But I didn't want you to think it was because of you."
Hotch's eyebrows twitched. "Why is that even a factor?"
"I didn't want to give you some kind of hope that I was thinking of joining so I could, I don't know, have a job and maybe have you at the same time. Or like I worship you or something." The first part was at least partially true, but Emily knew her last addition was untrue and uncalled for.
"Oh."
"So that's why I can't go with you," Emily said with finality.
Hotch wasn't ready to end the conversation just yet. "So this is a sure thing?"
"Well, if my application is even accepted, then yes. I plan on being in the Bureau in some capacity. But it's not so we can be together—"
"You already said that part," Hotch interjected, his voice dark and deep. "No need to repeat yourself. I get it."
"Hotch," Emily said, taking a step forward, seeing the pain written on his face. "I'm just trying to be realistic."
"By what, coming over here to sleep with me—twice—before you left, as if this wasn't hard enough already? You said it yourself. This kind of goodbye is worse."
"Okay, let's get something straight. I didn't come over here planning to sleep with you. I came to say goodbye, and maybe to distract myself just a little from what's happening at home. But you're the one who came on to me."
"The difference between us is that I thought deep down inside that it would bring us together, that I could convince you to try, but you went along with it knowing it wouldn't change a thing."
"I'm sorry," Emily said, a tear spilling over and tickling her cheek on the way down. "I thought that—"
"You thought what? That since I'm a guy, sex doesn't mean anything? It's just a good time? Do you really think I'm that shallow?"
"I wasn't thinking," Emily countered.
"I can see that now."
"I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."
"You can start by telling me why you're so dead set on doing this. What's more important to you?"
"Hotch, I'm not the kind of girl who gives up everything for a guy. I'm just not."
"So I'm a guy. That's it? Just some guy?"
"Any guy. I wouldn't do that for any guy. Besides, I don't see you offering to give up your job to have a relationship with me."
"That's because my job is a job! Your job is a dream!"
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Emily asked, her sharp eyebrows slanting.
"Not what you think," Hotch said, searching for a way to backpedal his way out of this one. "I'm not insinuating anything about your ability to get in. I'm sure that if you go for it, it's yours. What I'm trying to say is that I don't get why you're more sure about that than you are about this, about us. You've never set foot inside the Academy. But you spent this entire summer with me."
"Exactly," Emily said. "A summer. Don't turn this into something it isn't," she said, grabbing her purse and deciding she would just drive home barefoot. It would look less ridiculous than wearing her heels from the night before. Besides, the shoes weren't worth the walk back to Hotch's room. Nothing was.
"Good luck finding someone who will put up with your fucking mind games, Emily."
"Hate me all you want, but—" Emily started, shrugging her shoulders in a cocky kind of way.
"You know what I hate about you?"
"I don't know. What?"
Hotch had been successful at holding any tears at bay so far, and his resolve didn't falter. "That I could never hate you. I meant what I said, even if you don't feel—"
"Don't beg, Hotch," Emily said in feigned disgust.
"I'm not begging."
"Then can I go?"
"Feel free." Hotch's final words rang in his ears as he watched Emily leave.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review. :)
