“Porn.” Emily said.
“What?” Stephen didn’t want to move but his head turned a bit as he tried to look at her.
“Not p-o-r-n but p-o-r-n-e. Porne.”
“I say again, what?”
“That’s what our silly portmanteau would be if we lived in a TV show.”
“You’ve lost me. I'm good at faking it until I make it but I'm totally lost. What does a suitcase have to do with anything?”
“Where are you getting suitcase from?” she asked.
“You just said that porn was our portmanteau. In my head, and you feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but porn is our suitcase?”
“You are so damn cute.” Emily laughed, squeezing him tighter and kissing his temple.
They were lying on her couch doing a re-watch of Grey’s Anatomy. It was a rainy Sunday and neither wanted to go anywhere. Both used to waking up too early, Stephen made breakfast and coffee. Emily did yoga while Stephen showered and then made a few phone calls.
After sock ninja with George, which cracked her lover up, it was straight to the couch and the DVD player. Stephen had never seen Grey’s Anatomy and Emily thought it was a shame. It was one of her favorite guilty pleasures. The truth of it was that she saw some of herself in Meredith Grey.
“Thank you very much.” Stephen smiled. “Now tell me what you're talking about.”
“OK, a portmanteau is two meanings packed into one word. It’s just like Humpty Dumpty told Alice. Smog is a good example; a combination of smoke and fog.”
“Aha,” he smiled, taking her hand in his. “I got it. So Prentiss and Thorne equals porn.”
“You got it.” she replied.
“But why does it even matter?”
“You're not much of a TV fan, are you?”
“I think the last show I watched with any regularity may have been Hill Street Blues.”
“Damn Stephen, that show was on when I was still in a training bra.”
“Thank you for the visual.” He said.
“You're not that much older than me, so don’t assume you're a dirty old man. And even if you are a dirty old man I like you anyway. I like, like, like you.”
“I like, like, like you too Emily Prentiss. So…porn.”
“Right, sorry. Meredith and Derek’s portmanteau is Mer-Der.”
“Murder, are you serious?”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t silly. In fact, a lot of them are silly. But I like ours. We could get it monogrammed on pillows and bathrobes and get one of those adorably annoying framed stitched thingamabobs over the couch…Porn.”
“You’ve put some thought into this.” He said.
“Actually it just came to me, but I'm quick on my feet.”
“You're actually insane.” Stephen laughed. “But that just makes me like you more. So who comes up with these portmanteaus?”
“The fans. Fans are totally awesome in that way; they over think everything. They analyze, write, chat, post, and create a whole other world outside of canon that suits their needs.”
“Canon is the universe that’s happening on TV.” Emily said. “Here's an example, in canon Meredith and Derek are lovers. Some fans may want to see something a little different so they make Meredith and George lovers.”
“George, the chubby cheeked kid that lusts after her?” he asked.
“That’s the one.”
“How could they possibly do that?”
“The magical power of the internet.” Emily replied. “It’s a beautiful thing.”
“I've never heard of any of this. I know there are probably plenty of things I don’t know but this is…”
“Its fascinating, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I'm not sure yet. Actually, I'm still a little stuck on porn.”
“I love it.” Emily laughed. “Wait until I tell JJ. This could be a sign that we belong together.”
“If you like it, I love it.” Stephen said. “Anything you can use to show that we belong together, I'm gonna run with it.”
“You're not going anywhere Mister. No running.”
“No running, I'm pretty cozy right here.”
Emily wondered how often Stephen lay around in his pajamas. It wasn’t as if her schedule permitted it much but whenever it did Emily was doing it. She loved relaxing at home. For so long she couldn’t do that. In Paris she didn’t relax. She was itching to get back, handle business, and take Ian Doyle down.
Sleeping was difficult, eating too, and relaxing was nonexistent. She missed her family, her friends, and her life. Now she was back. A lot of people probably thought that lying around on the couch was a waste of time. For Emily Prentiss it was heaven. Add that she was doing it with the most wonderful man and she stopped looking for reasons to get up hours ago.
“I'm nice and cozy too.” Emily squeezed him.
Stephen turned over on the sofa, resting on top of her. He loved the way Emily wrapped her arms around and spread her thighs for him. He wondered if she felt how fast his heart would beat when she was in his arms. It had been a few months but Stephen was still getting used to the feeling. It happened so fast, if someone wanted to say that 17 years was fast.
He doubted that anyone would. In the beginning he thought it would be a romp, a thing, a trip down memory lane. But as he lay in bed that night with her, and every night he’d had the privilege since, Stephen knew it was more. It was more than a romp.
They'd had romps in their time and they were fun but this was different. This was lazy Sundays and lazy Sundays were a true sign. Since when he started believing in signs Stephen had no idea. Something else he could credit Emily Prentiss with; he believed in things again.
“How do you feel right now?” he whispered, kissing her throat as his hands touched her body.
“Loved.” Emily replied, arching her back.
“You are loved, Dulcinea. You are so loved; I want to love you all day long.”
“You're speaking my language.”
“I can speak any language you like.”
“I don’t want you to talk, Stephen.” She smiled while lifting the tee shirt over his head.
He slipped his hand into her sleep shorts, his fingers sliding across her wet skin. When Emily moaned it excited him. She spread her thighs more, wanted to be touched. Stephen was satisfied giving her what she wanted. She pushed the shorts off her waist and down her legs, making her lover smile.
“Let me help.” He said, taking the shorts off and going down with them.
Emily shivered when he kissed her stomach. His tongue ran over her belly button before moving down and running over her thigh. Damn, she tasted amazing. She always did and even though it was early in the afternoon, Stephen wanted to get drunk off her.
He touched, kissed, tasted, and nibbled; the sounds of Emily’s desire spurring him on. Stephen’s hands reached up, slipping under her tank top to stroke her breasts. Her body was so awesome. He loved the way she wriggled and writhed; loved the way she moaned.
“Ohhh Stephen, oh God; mmm my God.”
He brought her to breathless climax but never gave her a chance to breathe. Pushing his pajama pants down, Stephen thrust into her. Emily gripped his back as he found a rhythm.
“Slow down,” she murmured between passionate kisses. “Slow down and make love to me.”
“I'm not sure I can right now.” He groaned.
“You animal.” Her hands danced across his back, which only made him hotter.
“Mmm, tell me to fuck you, Emily. Tell me.”
“Fuck me Stephen.” She held him closer. “Oh God, fuck me.”
“Mean it, oh yeah, mean it love.”
“I mean it, I mean it!”
She definitely meant it. The man knew how to sex her. Emily found herself thinking about it when they weren't even together. She didn’t think that was just because before Stephen it had been a good long while since she had sex. Fucking him, making love to him, making out with him, rubbing him the right way or being rubbed…it was like she’d been waiting for it. The dry spell had been worth it since the night she walked back into his life and into his hotel suite bedroom.
She didn’t mind that only he climaxed, this was his moment and Emily wanted it for him. She wanted to feel him on her, in her, filling her. That release was one of her favorite moments. When Stephen groaned, moaned, or shouted her name.
Sometimes he even whispered it like it might be his last breath. What woman wouldn’t love that…being the center of someone’s universe. Even if it lasted for just a second it would be amazing. She knew it was more than that with Stephen.
“Damn.” She mumbled.
“Are you alright?” he caressed her face, raining gentle kisses all over her.
“Mmm hmm, I'm awesome.”
“Yes sir.” Emily kissed him. “I think I’ll handle the murder and you can keep the porn coming.”
Stephen laughed. “I don’t know what I'm going to do with you.”
“Oh yes you do; you just did it. Now I don’t want to be demanding but I would really love some lunch.”
“Don’t worry about it; you're cute when you're demanding. There are some steaks marinating in the fridge.”
“What are we going to do about that?”
Emily smiled and Stephen kissed her. Then he climbed off of her, dressing. She grabbed her sleep shorts, put them back on, and then jumped on Stephen for more kisses. They were both laughing, George looking up from his sleepy chair at the spectacle before going back to ignoring them again.
“I’ll broil the steak and I think there were some artichokes in the fridge too.” Stephen said.
“Before you came back into my life I never had that kind of food in the refrigerator. I was eating like a frat boy.”
“You still eat like a frat boy. You want a smoothie while you wait?”
“Ooh that sounds perfect.” Emily smiled as she sat back on the couch. She’d missed nearly two whole episodes; it was time to rewind. “I need to catch up on my show…you’ve distracted me enough.”
“You know you love it.” Stephen replied, smirking as he walked into the kitchen.
Yes, she loved it. It had been a wonderful weekend…she didn’t want it to be over. Monday always came and the demands of their jobs took them in separate directions. Emily was starting to really miss Stephen when he wasn’t there. She missed him when she wasn’t there too. Not wanting to focus on all that meant, she curled up on her couch with her favorite pillows and a little Mer-Der.