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Despite having three years under your belt at the BAU, Section Chief Prentiss was still a royal pain in your ass. The woman had made it her mission to make every day as miserable as possible. It was only your third time out in the field with them when she made her first comment.
The first time she used that nickname.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart ?” She sneered, gun close to her chest as the two of you chased an UnSub through a dilapidated building. Her eyes raked over your form, lingering over your heaving chest before settling on the mild panic that had started to form in your eyes. “Thought you’d spend your days behind a desk?” It was a low blow, and stung more than you let on. But the man shooting at you proved to be a pleasant distraction from your chief’s clear dislike of you.
It took a year for you to find the guts to give it back. And boy, was the look on her face worth it.
You had no evidence, and the man had already been detained for six hours. It was clear the team was getting antsy, and the tensions were rising far faster than usual. “Let me in there, Prentiss. I can get it.” You begged, despite knowing she would immediately shut you down. So when she cast you a look of disdain, you weren’t surprised. “Leave this to the grownups, sweetheart .” She patted your shoulder a little too hard as she walked by, slamming the interrogation room door behind her with a dramatic flare. When she returned less than an hour later, it was with deep lines drawn on her face. You’d been on the receiving end of that look before, and knew it only meant disappointment.
Choosing to be proactive, you slid into interrogation one, and faced down the man that had successfully shut down three of the BAU’s best profilers. The thing is, the two of you had something in common. Authority figures didn't seem to like you all that much. It was almost too easy to get him to spill, all too eager to prove you were the same as him.
Slamming your notebook down onto Emily’s lap was a highlight of your career. “A full confession. You’re welcome, sweetheart . ” You spat the nickname out, looking her over once before storming out of the station. However, as you turned, you caught the look of pure surprise on her face, her mouth open and eyes wide. She couldn’t even form a word as you walked away, spurred on by the nods of acknowledgment from your team.
Emily had no valid reason to hate you. But from the day you first showed up in her office with your transfer papers, she just wanted you out. She didn’t need some young twenty-something coming in and showing them up. The rest of the team, however, loved you. She watched you from her office window, arms crossed and her typical scowl heavy on your back. A scorching rage fizzled under her skin as you laughed at something Luke said, gripping his arm and flinging your head back. Nothing could be that funny. It was becoming increasingly difficult to tear her eyes away from your hand on his arm, and how it squeezed with each bout of laughter.
She wasn’t jealous.
In fact, she was doing her best not to drag you into her office and chew you out, for whatever reason she could find. And if she enjoyed the way you huffed and gave her attitude back? Well, no one had to know about that.
…
There was something about the way she arched her back as she leaned against the bar top. The confident wave of her hand as she signalled the bartender, followed by a coy smile as she hustled a tray of free shots for the table. Emily Prentiss was the devil. You were certain of it. It was shameless, the way you dragged your eyes over her haunting figure. She had long abandoned her coat, leaving you to appreciate the long line of her legs and the whisper of lace from under her silk shirt. The navy blue did wonders, complimenting her silver hair that glowed under the bar lights.
As she strutted back, shots in hand, you continued your admiration. Were her hips swaying more than usual? A flush fluttered across her chest, rising up her neck and slowly spread across her cheeks. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt your scrutiny, but for you to do it so openly made her skin prickle in anticipation. It wasn’t until she placed the tray on the table that you met her eyes, a playfulness hidden in your own as you winked. “Nice work, sweetheart.” You praised, missing the usual bite that accompanied the pet name. It still had its intended effect when her eyes widened at your cocky grin. In a poor attempt to recover, Emily cleared her throat, only to panic when she realised the team had only left a space beside you.
She watches in horror as you pat the seat, indicating for her to sit. Emily glares at her supposed friends as she carefully sits beside you, doing her best to avoid any physical contact. Unfortunately for her, you’ve already had several drinks and are enjoying her discomfort a little more than you should.
For all her nasty comments and heated glares, there’s more to Emily than meets the eye. Even the team had struggled to explain her attitude towards you. A quiet chuckle escapes your lips as you recall Tara’s comment. “I think she needs to get laid.” Could three years of her hatred really be chalked up to needing a good lay? Emily’s eyes darted to you, narrowing in suspicion as you laughed quietly to yourself. “What’s so funny?” She hissed, thankful that the others were too engrossed in the conversation to notice.
Emboldened by the alcohol, you lean in, slipping your hand delicately over her knee, giving it a knowing squeeze. “I know what your problem is.” You whispered, your lips grazing her cheek as you pulled back with a grin. Emily blanches, furrowing her brow as she takes a moment to process your words. My problem?
Copying your actions, she leans in close enough to feel your breath hitting her lips. “And what would that be, sweetheart?” She says breathlessly, her skin alight from where your grip tightens before moving further up her thigh, getting dangerously close to-
“You need a good fuck. ” You breathed.
Emily held back a groan at your words, her body thrumming with fear and excitement. “Are you offering?” She asks, raising her brow, attempting to appear unaffected. She ignores the way heat licks and uncurls in her stomach, desire spilling into every nerve as she watches your expressions flicker. Before you could answer, a hand grips her wrist and drags her from the booth. “Come on, bathroom buddy!” Penelope had always been stronger than she looked, pulling the unsuspecting woman from her seat. Emily’s stomach clenched as she glances back at the smug grin on your face. She had been so close to-
Close to what, exactly?
The question nagged at her as she leant against the sink, only partially listening to Garcia’s rambling, too focused on the sensation that had yet to leave the space between her thighs. Her mind drifted to the feeling of your hand gripping her thigh, how it was mere inches away from where she needed it most. “Hello? Earth to Emily? Anyone home?” Penelope goaded, her hand waving frantically in the older woman's face in an attempt to gain her attention. “Huh?” Emily’s eyes widened, surprised to have been caught in her thoughts– her completely professional thoughts– about you.
“Whatever you were thinking about must’ve been good,” the blonde remarks, smirking slightly as she eyes her friend with a knowing look. “What are you talking about?” Emily asks, her voice tinged with confusion until she’s spun around to meet her own eyes in the mirror.
Her typically pale face bloomed a furious red, staining her cheeks and chest. “Who is it then?” Penelope asks, grinning as she nudges Emily playfully with her elbow. “No one, it’s just hot and I’ve had too much to drink.” The excuse slipped from her lips without thinking. “I think I’m going to step outside for a minute.” Not waiting for a response, Emily bolted from the bathroom and crashed through a side door into the bar alley. She curls into the wall, dropping her forehead onto the cool brick, cursing to herself quietly. The night air dances across her skin, fighting her traitorous skin and keeping the blush at bay.
You watch her quietly from the opposite wall, having come outside only moments before her abrupt escape from your technical analyst. You chuckle lowly to yourself as she mutters her complaints to the wall, blissfully unaware of your presence behind her. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” You ask, delighting as she jumps and whirls to face you, her hand flying to her chest as her face twists into a look of indignation. Meeting your eyes does little to quell the desire that has been growing in her stomach since your moment at the table. Confidence swells in your chest as she staggers back into the wall, her breath quickening as she scans you curiously, the crimson slowly returning to her features despite the cold. As Emily's back presses against the brick, she silently curses herself once more, shuddering at the wolfish smile on your face. “Just needed some air… Why are you out here?” Emily’s voice is barely a whisper against the noise from the bar, loud enough for you to ignore the drumming of your own heart.
A tentative step forward tells you all you need to know, as she heaves against the wall, her eyes flickering across your face in what you assume to be excitement. Another step and you can smell her perfume, allowing it to drag you even closer. The familiar warm scent soothes your nerves as you take the final step and come toe-to-toe with your tormentor. You can feel the gentle puff of her breath. Can almost taste the tequila that stained her tongue only moments ago.
“How about I make good on my offer, Chief Prentiss?” you husk, drawing your fingers up her side until they curl around her waist. A chuckle rumbles in your chest as the other woman wets her lower lip, clearly unaware of the way her head nods a silent yes. “I’m gonna need to hear it, Sweetheart .”
Emily blinks in surprise, letting out a small gasp as your thumb runs across her lower lip, tugging it down only to let it spring back. “Yes.” She utters, her eyes wide and dark as she admires your features up close for the first time. Noticing the surprise on your face at her bluntness, she stutters, “That is-, I mean…” Huffing, she drops her head forwards to avoid your eyes. “I want you… Please.” Gone was the over-confident Section Chief who drove you mad on a regular basis. Instead, you found yourself pressed up against a woman who grew weak at your touch, who shivered as you whispered her not so hidden truth. A woman who clenched her thighs at the mere sight of you.
Hooking your finger under her chin, Emily is forced to meet your eyes and the wicked grin that flashed across your face. “Who knew you could be so polite?” You taunt, before finally bringing her lips to yours, swallowing the moan that slips from her throat. Her previous shyness seemed to melt away as her arms snaked around your shoulders, pulling you closer than you thought possible, your body melding into hers.
A cacophony of whines fills her chest, spurred on by your lips, moving hungrily against her own. Your hands grip the bottom of her shirt, pulling it loose so you can glide your hands over the smooth expanse skin you’d only dreamed of. Emily shudders under your touch, her muscles twitching as your nails scrape against her skin. Desperate to hear more of her whines, you move to drag your lips across her jaw, nipping at the pearlescent skin on her neck, your thighs clenching at the sight of her bruising skin. The older woman writhes beneath you, becoming increasingly aware of the heat growing between her thighs. She could feel herself becoming slick, her desire to see you between her thighs nearing unbearable.
She begins to rut against your leg, her hips rolling, trying to find any kind of friction. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart? Tell me what you need.” Your teeth catch a particularly sensitive patch of skin, making her gasp, her hands gripping your shoulders. Emily continues to shiver as your hand drops to her belt buckle, deftly pulling it undone in one swift movement. Her breath quickens as you pop the button and yank at her zipper. Another grin graces your features as she bucks into you, her movements desperate.
“Use your words, Emily.” The Chief’s eyes flick up to yours in surprise at the use of her name.
“Isn’t it obvious?” She sounds breathless, and if her blackened eyes are anything to go by, she wants you just as bad as you want her. Instead of responding, you stare her down, your fingers teasing at the edge of her lace panties. The pressure between her legs makes it hard to think, too focused on chasing the high you’re tempting her with. You become unsettled by her silence, worried she's too caught up in the moment to realise she doesn't want this. Slowly, you begin to pull away, ready to accept the consequences of whatever that was. Until her hand grips your wrist, pulling it past her open zipper. “I need you to fuck me.”
She’s so fucking wet.
The tips of your fingers trail over her soaked panties, pulling sharp sighs from her lips each time they brushed over her clit. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You ask, pressing her harder against the wall as your fingers tug the lace to the side. Using your knee, you push her legs apart and groan as your fingers slip into her heat. Emily lets out a low whine, one hand fisted in your hair, the other tight around your wrist. You start slow, pumping languidly as her whines evolve into quiet pants, her frustration clear as you keep her on the edge.
She attempts to meet your rhythm, but the way you're pressed so deliciously against her makes it difficult. You drag your teeth up the column of her neck, licking and nipping at the pale skin, grinning at the way she cries out when your thumb brushes across her clit. Quiet pleas of “more” reach your ears, and as much as you wanted to drag the moment out, you knew the team would worry if you were gone too long. “I need you to be quiet for me, alright?” You breathe, already snaking one hand to rest around her neck, prepared to cover her mouth. Before she can respond, you start to thrust into her at a brutal pace, the heel of your hand brushing her clit with every thrust.
”Oh god… Fuck!” Emily moans, her legs shaking as her orgasm builds. With both hands buried in your hair, she pulls you to her lips, stifling her moan as her walls tighten around your fingers. Emily falls apart in your arms, her limbs growing weak as she comes undone, held up only by the weight of your body. She smiles at you shyly, as you slide your hand from her slacks, only to lick them clean. “How was that? Feeling less grouchy now?” You say, amusement evident as you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively. Emily merely swats your arm and chuckles, her head dropping to rest against yours. “You were right, I did need to get laid.” She gently runs her hands up your chest, curling her fingers around the lapels of your jacket only to pull you in for a kiss.
A quiet settles over the two of you, as your lips move slowly against one another, your hands resting on the curve of her back.
“Emily! You out here?” the blonde's voice cuts through the moment, bringing you both back to reality. The older woman drags herself away, hiding you from the tech analyst hanging from the side door. “Yeah, just having a smoke. I’ll be back in a moment.” She answers, pulling the pack from her pocket and making a show of lighting one up. “Oh.. Have you seen-”
Knowing her next question, you slip out from behind Emily, your own lit cigarette hanging from your lips. Penelope’s eyebrow raises in suspicion; “I thought you quit?” she purses her lips, eyes narrowing as you take a long drag. “Oh come on Pen, you know I like to smoke after a drink.” She contemplates this for a moment before finally shaking her head, “okay, okay. Just hurry back, both of you. It’s been too long since we got to hang out like this!” she says with a smile.
“We’ll be right there!” Emily offers, watching as the woman finally heads back inside.
“That was close, huh?” You breathe, putting your unfinished cigarette out on the wall. “Yeah…” Emily finishes her own cigarette, flicking a stray hair from her face with a small smile. “Maybe we could do that again sometime?” You ask, trailing your eyes over her unbuttoned shirt until you reach out to fix it. “Just not in an alleyway!” You add with a chuckle, wiping the smudged lipstick from her chin.
A warmth blooms in your chest as she kisses your palm, her hand curled around your own. “I think that… is a perfect idea, Sweetheart .” Instead of the usual venom that came with the nickname you’d come to loathe, her voice was low and sultry, luring you back into another sensual kiss.
Who knew Sweetheart could sound so alluring?