Now that the case was over and the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain of her injuries was really starting to hit her. Derek had spent the entire case at her side, to the point that it was really starting to piss her off (as was their love language). It wasn't that she didn't want him to see her vulnerable – as weak – so much as it was everyone else...and now that they were alone, she no longer had the energy to resist him, so she let him support her as she hobbled towards their hotel room.
Once he kicked the door shut behind them and they were closed off from the rest of the world, he swept her into his arms, holding her tight to his chest for so long that she wasn't sure he was ever going to let go. (Normally, she might not have indulged him so completely, but she had a feeling he needed it. And, though she'd probably never admit it, she needed it too.)
At length, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the bed, setting her down gently so as not to cause her more pain that she was already experiencing. Then, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, saying far more without words than anyone should be able; it was a skill they'd perfected over the years, the wordless conversation.
"Did the doctor give you any painkillers?" he asked, crossing the room to dig in her go bag for her pyjamas.
"I wish," she said dryly, propping herself up on her elbows, "He said over-the-counter Ibuprofen should be fine. I have some in the..."
"In the mini-pharmacy you carry with you," he finished for her, "Be prepared or whatever the Girl Scouts say."
She rolled her eyes. "Hey, I'm a mom," she said with a shrug.
"A damn good one," he said, returning to her side and kissing her quickly, then tipped two pills into her palm, waited for her to pop them in her mouth, then passed her a bottle of water. "Do you want to get undressed and go to sleep?"
She shook her head. "No, I need a shower – I feel gross." A beat. "But first..." She paused, tongue flicking out over her lip. "Could you...just...hold me for a bit?" She stared up at him almost pleadingly, as if he could ever deny her anything.
Normally, he might've made a joke, but he could tell she was feeling raw and vulnerable after the day's events, so he held it back and climbed onto the bed next to her, pulling her into his side. He'd lost track of how many times they'd done this dance over the past three years, how many times they'd held each other during their most vulnerable moments, times they might normally have pushed everyone away for fear of seeming weak, instead letting each other in and finding a safe space in their arms.
He kissed her temple softly. "I was really worried about you," he whispered, feeling reassured just to have her in his arms.
Her reply was muffled by his chest, but the words didn't really matter. She was just grateful for the human contact, the feeling of his protective embrace and the sound of his heart beating softly. It was a sound that grounded her, that made her feel safe...it had from that first moment she'd rested her head on his chest years ago and had known that she was falling too hard, too fast, in a way she never had before. The accident had shaken her up far more than she cared to admit – in those moments as the car was rolling, she'd realized how very close she came to losing everything, how close she came to leaving their daughter without a mother.
Feeling her grip on the back of his shirt tighten, he kissed her temple again, murmuring against her skin, "You okay?"
"I just..." She trailed off, shaking her head. She didn't know how to continue, why she felt this inexplicable urge to cry. For his part, he didn't say anything when he felt her tears soaking the fabric of his shirt, he just held her tighter, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear as she cried.
She spent so much of her life trying to prevent people from seeing her as anything other than completely composed and confident, but he'd changed that. He'd broken down her defences and the walls she'd built up over the years to keep people out and, as surprising as it was, she found she didn't really mind... She loved him and trusted him enough to let him see the real her. She let herself run into his arms when she needed comfort and warmth.
When her tears started to subside, she sniffled, pulled back from his chest to wipe away her tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling guilty without really knowing why.
He cupped her tear-stained face in his hands and gently wiped away the tears with his thumbs. Staring into her eyes – and still finding them breathtakingly beautiful, even as they shone with tears – he saw the fear and pain glinting there and he felt his heart break just a little all over again. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. Let's get you in the shower so you can get a good night's rest," he suggested.
She nodded, smiled faintly, grateful for the change of subject, though she didn't say as much. When she attempted to stand from the bed, though, she winced, groaned, and fell back slightly. Instantly, he was at her side, helping her to stand. Reluctant though she was to admit it, she mumbled, "I can't do it alone..."
Unable to resist teasing her just a little, he said, "Are you asking me to get wet and naked with you?"
She rolled her eyes, but barked out a laugh all the same. "You're incorrigible."
"You love it," he retorted as he helped her limp to the bathroom. She settled on the edge of the bathtub and he proceeded to ease her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, but before he could unbutton her pants, she cupped his face in her hands, pulling him closer to her so their lips could meet in a tender kiss. He indulged her a moment or two, then pulled away, eliciting a little whine of disappointment form her. "I love you," he told her in a quiet murmur to ease the sting.
His touch was soft and gentle, almost timidly so, as if afraid she would break were he too rough. At the same time, though, the careful way he undressed her was tender and affectionate in a way that only he could manage, a way that showed no matter how much he might want her, he would keep this chaste out of concern for her injuries.
The part of her that, in the aftermath of the accident, longed for human contact, to feel close to him, almost wished that he weren't such a gentleman; the way he loved her always left her feeling loved and needed.
As he eased off her bra, she could feel his gaze wander across her skin – and not in the way he usually looked at her: full of lust, barely able to contain himself – and it took her a few moments to realize why... Her skin was mottled purple with slowly forming bruises; the diagonal line across her body from the seatbelt was going to pain her black and blue for weeks, that much was already apparent.
"Baby..." he murmured, then dropped a kiss to her shoulder. Then another lower down. Another lower still.
As chaste and sweet as his kisses were, they sent a shiver down her spine and her head lolled back a little as her breath hitched. If he didn't stop kissing her like that, she was going to really want him in the shower and she knew it wouldn't come without additional pain. "Get undressed," she commanded once she'd managed to marshal her concentration enough to form speech.
"Wh-what?" he stammered, clearly taken aback by the command.
She tugged at the hem of his shirt. "If you're going to help me shower, you're going to need to be naked..." she pointed out. And, if she let her eyes wander as he tugged off his pants and boxer-briefs in one motion, well...she didn't think anyone could fault her for that. (Afterall, the Bureau rumour mill – which wasn't particularly known for its factual accuracy – had managed to get one thing right when it came to the size of his cock...)
Once they were both standing under the spray of warm water, Emily let out a little contented sigh as the water massaged out the knots that had tangled themselves into her muscles over the events of the day. She buried her face in Derek's chest and he held her close, letting the water wash over them and wash away the fear and pain of it all.
At length, he gently turned her so that her back was against his chest and he proceeded to wash her hair for her, massaging shampoo through her hair, massaging her scalp as he did so. "Did I ever tell you that you have very talented hands?" she whispered, eyes falling shut as he languished in the feel of his fingers on her scalp.
"You're gonna get yourself in trouble if you keep talking like that, Em," he said with a laugh.
"I'm okay with that," she replied, a mischievous smile crossing her lips. The way he was so lovingly taking care of her and the feel of his body pressed against hers made her willing to forget the pain in favour of a little more intimacy.
He almost laughed, thinking her joking, glad to see that her sense of humour remained intact. But, when she turned and looked into his eyes, he saw no hint of levity and quickly realized that she was completely serious. "Baby," he said gently, trying to find the right words to soften the blow, "You know that's not a good idea..."
Her face fell a little, a quick flash of sadness in her eyes, though she tried hard to hide it. Immediately, he felt bad, even though he knew he wasn't wrong.
He remembered the time he'd been knocked unconscious by Foyet when he'd pushed him through the plate-glass window; he remembered the following night, wanting nothing more than to not feel so alone, to replace the horror and depravity with the warmth and closeness of being loved by someone he cared about.
"I don't want to hurt you..." he whispered, hoping she'd understand that he was only refusing because he cared about her, rather than any lack of enthusiasm.
"You won't," she was quick to insist in reply.
He liked the fact that she trusted him enough to believe that he would never do anything to hurt her. "Baby," he whispered again, kissing her gently, "I don't want to take a chance. I don't want to see you in pain again."
She opened her mouth to protest, but didn't get a chance to say anything because his lips found hers in that moment, kissing her deeply. He indulged her for several long moments before he eased out of the kiss, grinning to himself when she huffed petulantly. He could tell that he wasn't going to win this one (not that he won all that much to begin with, to be quite honest), so with a sigh of concession, he said, "You have to promise you'll tell me if I hurt you even a little."
She nodded, quick to agree, though she had absolutely no intention of stopping once they got started. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.
He moved to once again kiss the path of her bruises down her shoulder, between her breasts, across her belly until he was on his knees before her. He pressed a soft kiss to her clit and she gasped, her hand finding the back of his head.
He worked his tongue through her folds with delicate precision, having done this more than enough times to know exactly what it was Emily liked. He dipped his tongue inside her, tasting her juices, before once again renewing his efforts to make her see stars.
He could tell that he was effecting her by the way her nails slowly started digging into his scalp, the way her breathing became quick and ragged, the way she had to brace herself against the wall to keep herself upright. That's when his tongue found her clit...
"Derek!" she gasped, "Derek, I want..."
He chuckled. "What do you want, Princess?" he asked, as if he really had no idea.
"More," she said breathlessly, "I want your cock..."
"What my Princess wants, she gets," he said, pausing to drop kisses along her hips where the lapbelt had left its imprint. Then, he stood, found her lips once again, swallowing her moan as he guided himself into her in one smooth motion.
He paused then, giving her a moment to adjust to the intrusion, resting his forehead against hers. "You alright?" she murmured, kissing him softly.
"I should be asking you that..."
Rather than answer that directly, she grabbed his ass, pulling him closer so he was forced deeper inside her and she let out a little moan. He knew then that he wasn't going to last long if she kept going this way...and he knew her well enough to know that she absolutely would.
As he began to move, he did his best to be gentle, trying to avoid putting too much pressure on her hips where the lapbelt had lacerated. It took tremendous effort on his part to maintain his cautious pace, the feel of her throbbing around his cock making him want to lose all control.
Her arm wrapped around his neck anchored her as he thrust into her and it was all she could to do keep kissing him in silent encouragement. She arched against him, taking him deeper, wanting – needing – to feel more of him. She hummed in pleasure as he brushed the sweet spot inside her, all thoughts of her pain slipping away.
His fingers were delicate, tracing along her bruises, but she didn't want delicate... She grabbed his hand, guiding it to her breast, cupping it with his palm and hoping he'd get the message. He quickly took over, rolling her pebbled nipple between his fingers and repeating the motion to coax each and every delicious sound from her lips.
"Look at me," he demanded.
She opened her eyes, following his gaze, watching his hand slide down her water-slicked skin, gently caressing the cuts, bruises, and abrasions on her ivory skin until his hand reached her clit. She watched for a moment as he toyed with the sensitive bud, then shut her eyes again, the sight of him moving within her and his hand touching her was too much; she didn't want to come undone so quickly.
"Look at me," he commanded a second time.
This time, when she opened her eyes, it was to meet his gaze and, in that moment, it all became too much and she felt her orgasm flooding through her. She cried out as she came, feeling his thrusts slow as he languished in the feel of her cunt spasming around his cock.
When she came down from her high, she found his lips again, murmuring into the kiss, "Come with me this time." She took it to mean agreement when he began to trail open-mouthed kisses down her throat, knowing that never failed to drive her wild.
"You feel so good," he groaned, his thrusts a little more wild, less controlled. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer...how could he when she was so wet and so tight around him?
"Derek...right there," she moaned as he hit just the right spot, making her see stars. She was making it very difficult for him to keep things slow and tender the way he'd intended. She was eager, moving against him, matching each thrust so their hips bumped into each others' sharply.
He fought an internal battle between wanting to be gentle as he'd planned and wanting to take her hard and fast, railing into her over and over until she forgot her own name.
"Baby..." she panted, "Baby, harder..."
He groaned aloud at her request. The last thing he needed was her egging him on like that, knowing he should be gentle with her after the events of the past twenty-four hours. Knowing that he'd hate himself if he caused her any more pain than she was already experiencing.
"Can't do that," he murmured between kisses. He tenderly stroked her cheek, looking deep into her eyes, needing her to see that he wasn't refusing for any lack of desire. "Don't make me do that, Em. I can't hurt you. Don't make me regret this..."
"Please," she begged. "I can handle the pain. I want the pain..." He raised an eyebrow at that, but she was desperate and willing to beg. "Please...I need this."
She was doing a good job of breaking down his best intentions – he wanted to give in to her, really, he did...and the way she was clamping down on his dick only made it that much harder to resist. Almost apologetically, he said, "I can't give you what you want tonight." He lifted a finger to her lips when she whimpered. "Shh. I promise you this will be good."
She sighed in defeat, knowing that he was only resisting because he cared so much about her. He hadn't even wanted to do this in the first place, only relenting because she begged him and because she'd promised they'd take things slowly and avoid the roughness that they weren't altogether unfamiliar with.
"Emily..." he murmured, kissing his way back up her neck to her ear before finally meeting her lips once again. "So close..." he husked against her lips, thrusts growing erratic, his moans ragged. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. "Come with me, Baby," he urged, his eyes boring into hers, watching the way they seemed to glaze over with passion.
The sensation was too much for her: the feel of his lips showering kisses on her flushed skin, his trigger-calloused finger rubbing sharply on her clit, his cock hitting all the right spots inside her... With a final breathy shudder, she reached her climax once again and he hungrily drank in the sight – the way her lips parted, her skin flushing, her entire body trembling as she arched against him. She'd never looked more beautiful to him than she did in that moment, bruises and all.