Work Text:
I’m finally going home to wash away the thoughts of morbidity that never seem to stop nagging at my soul; the doors to the elevator shutting.
Before promptly reopening. Speaking of nagging thoughts . A certain brunette stares blankly at me, having dropped that smile she often wears (around anyone but me it seems).
I don’t know why she decided that we would not be friends, or even remotely friend ly , but my first day at the BAU three months ago, she shook my hand professionally, shot me a glance with those dark brown eyes, and firmly resolved we were to be reluctant colleagues. No conversation necessary. Message received.
I can’t help but scoff as she seems to hesitate in the doorway before stepping in, flicking her gaze up and down my body with a subtly quirked brow. Stepping beside me, she leans her head back, rubbing a hand over her neck, exposing a patch of porcelain skin I want to commit to memory with my mouth. No. Enough of that. I stare intently at a speck on the ground instead. Much more interesting. Enthralling.
“Heading home?” I force out the words to keep myself from focusing on the smell of jasmine and amber wood radiating from her.
She hums in confirmation. Actually hums . Not even the ever-polite ‘yep’. She checks her watch; a clock face more interesting than speaking more than a grunt to me.
“You can’t just be civil can you, Prentiss?” it slips out before I can catch it. I had several more points to tick before confrontation, all of which would’ve filled the entire time before reaching ground. Fuck .
“Civil?“ she’s finally turned towards me, bag dropped to the floor beside her, eyes darker somehow. “You want me to be civil? Why should I?” There’s a bite to her words, like I’ve truly done something to offend her.
“You can’t stand me! Why? What could I have done in the 10 seconds before I shook your hand that could’ve made you so that you have to look anywhere but me at any given moment?” my own bag has dropped to the floor and my feet have a life of their own as I step forward.
She pulls the emergency stop. God, this is happening . “I don’t look at you because you drive me insane.” She’s mastered the art of cold rage. Stepping towards me, she adds “You distract me too much. Way too much. So forgive me if I don’t look at you Y/L/N, because if I did, I couldn’t look away.” She lets out a breath, now inches from my face.
I swear for a second her eyes drop down to my cleavage. “Cause you hate me that much?”She’s too close, I can’t think straight.
“Jesus, you can be dense.” Suddenly, her hand lands on my neck, her lips on mine, barely there for a second, then pulling away too quickly. Oh.
Then I’m grabbing her shirt and pulling her back to me. Hips pressing into each other, searching for friction, hands frantically pulling and tugging. She tastes even better than I imagined; vaguely of mint. Her hands tangling themselves in my hair as my own grip her waist.
“I hate that you make such perfect fucking eye contact when you speak to people,” she speaks into my mouth, hardly pulling back at all, “I hate that you’re so fucking sweet, bringing everyone coffee just how they like it. Even me,” her lips have left mine to venture down my neck, sucking harshly under my jaw. “I hate that when you breathe heavily, your tits rise in those shirts you wear.” So she was looking.
She pulls away abruptly, panting, “We can’t be doing this.” I look back at her through my eyebrows, instinctively trying to fill the space between us, already missing the heat of her on me. She holds me firmly a step away from her.
“Please?” I usually don’t beg, but not everyone is her . “I want this, Prentiss.” I tug on the belt loop of her pants, which seems to convince her.
Something more carnal possesses her, pushing me into the wall and leaning me against the barre that wraps the elevator. Crashing her mouth back over mine, her tongue entering my mouth as she takes advantage of my lips opening in shock. “Emily,”she demands. “Not Prentiss. We’re not at work.”
“I mean, technically , we are.” One of her hands has made its way onto my neck, gently squeezing as she grins back at me.
I let out a breathy moan she seems to like as she sucks at the base of my throat, smiling into me now. “There we go, pretty boy, I wanna hear you.” Her leg presses my own open, pushing softly into my cunt. Not nearly enough.
Her hands venture down my body, landing on the buttons of my shirt. She pulls away from my neck to seek permission. I nod frantically, desperate for any touch she’s willing to give. “Words, sweetheart.”
“Yes, please. Please.” The second plea is barely a word as she makes quick work of the buttons and yanks my shirt from my body. Goosebumps pepper my arms, less from the sudden cold and more from the way she’s looking at me. Like a woman starved.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” The tenderness doesn’t last long before she’s palming my tits through my bra and pressing open-mouthed kisses over my freshly exposed chest. “I thought if I could hate you I could forget about you, but I only ever think of you. When I’m meant to be working, when I wake up from dreams about you, when I’m fucking myself.”
“Emily,” I moan, her hands removing my pants teasingly slowly. I want to tell her how much I think of her , but my brain is all fog as my trousers drop to the floor and she squeezes my ass.
“Mhm, just let me make you feel good.” Suddenly my feet leave the floor as she props me up to sit on the barre, my thighs wrapping around her waist.
She’s running her hands over my outer thighs and grinning as I try helplessly to grind into the hard plains of her stomach. “Please, Emily,” I’m already completely at her mercy.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” she speaks right next to my ear; her hot breath tickling my neck and the warm spicy scent that is so entirely her overwhelming me. Then her fingers are sitting on top of my underwear and I can’t stop the moan that leaves my lips at finally having her where I need her. “C’mon, Y/N.”
“Touch me,” I can barely get out the two words before she’s applying pressure over my clit and I’m all sounds.
“I am touching you, darling,” she chuckles lowly at my frown.
“Put your fingers in me, please.” My hands are gripping onto her shirt, trying frantically to unbutton it so I can see her. Jesus christ. If Emily Prentiss fucks me and I didn’t even get her shirt off, I’ll be beating myself up for years to come.
She takes a step back. She’ll be the death of me.
Her eyes fixed firmly on mine, her deft fingers pull painfully slowly at each button before pulling it off inch by inch. She’s stripping for me. All I can do is watch and pant as she stands in front of me. No matter many low-cut tops I’ve had to suffer through seeing her in, nothing could’ve prepared me for her almost wholly sheer, red lace bra. Her tits bounce ever so slightly as she fills the gap separating us once more and I can’t help but run my hands over them when she reaches me.
“God, Em, you’re fucking perfect,” the nickname unintentional; more a reaction to the way she’s looking at me, her hair slightly mussed and lips swollen. I can’t imagine how I look.
“Mm, I like “Em”.”
With barely any warning, she’s pushing my underwear to the side and rubbing her middle finger over my clit. Slowly. Barely there. But I’m bucking my hips into her palm and gripping her neck for dear life. “More, please .”
Finally listening, she moves that finger to my entrance, slipping inside of me and pulling a guttural moan from my lips. “Jesus, you’re soaked. All for me huh?” She’s pumping her finger in and out of me now, spreading my legs slightly more. “Satisfied? Or do you want another finger like the little slut you are?”
“An- another- finger,” with her inside of me and her lips trailing up the side of my neck I can hardly speak, but she seems pleased.
“God, you’re such a handsome mess.” Tapping my thigh she adds, “Wider.” Her ring finger joins her other in my cunt, increasing the pace and ripping every moan and plea from my mouth. “You like this don’t you? You’ve thought about this?”
“Uh-huh, I’ve wanted th- this since I saw you. You and your damn smile. And your eyes. You have no idea, I want to worship you.” She begins to hit the spot inside of me that makes my vision cloud, knowing exactly how much it affects me. “Feels s’good, Em.” How the fuck has she gotten me so close already?
Her mouth trails over my chest, leaving red marks in its wake. She’s turned me into some kind of puddle of moans and desperation, hardly functioning. “You look so beautiful on my hand, all wet and pathetic, don’t you?”
I know I won’t last, especially with the way her thumb has found a home on my clit, rubbing rhythmically in time with her other fingers. She knows, because she slows down to an almost complete stop. I practically whimper, pleading for release. “So needy,” she kisses me, gently, sweetly, before regaining speed - a brutal contrast.
Something about the way she’s smiling up at me gives me butterflies to accompany the building tension in my lower stomach. “Em, I’m going to cum,” I more whine than say, forehead resting on hers.
“That’s it, cum for me like a good little whore.” It’s her voice that tips me over. I finally let go, breathing into her mouth, vision blurring. My orgasm courses through me like a tidal wave; moaning hopelessly, gripping my hands in her hair, squeezing around her fingers, repeating her name like a litany. “So pretty for me,” she praises.
“Fucking hell.” As I come down, she gently kisses my jaw and pulls her hand from me, resting it tightly instead on my hip.
Regaining some composure, I whisper “So you couldn’t look at me because…”
“You distract me too much, like I said.” she finishes my thought. I can feel the blush creeping over my cheeks, making her laugh lightly as it spreads to my ears. I’ve never made her laugh before. I’m greedy for it.
As I awkwardly attempt to hop down from my seat on the barre, Emily’s hands find their place on my waist; steadying me, kissing me - as if savouring this.
In the moments before she pushes the emergency stop back into place, she pulls my pants gently onto shaky legs and hands me my button up, redressing herself too. There’s a feeling growing within me in the silence - what now? Panic sets in, so I cling to her as the elevator rumbles to a start, memorising the taste of her lips and the feeling of her under my hands.
“My apartment, later. You said something about wanting to worship me?” I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face.