Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: (My) Emma/(Marvel’s) Emma, Emma/Scott, Emma/Emily, Emily/JJ
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 1833
Prompt: 032. Anal Sex (Not till later. Wait for it.)
Apologies: Happy Christmas Eve! And what do good fic readers get for Christmas? Smut!
This came out of a weird set of random prompts I made myself. My Emma, who has wandered so far away from continuity, meets the Emma in continuity, and proceeds to mess up her life.
Edited for italics, because it is impossible for me to write Emma-Voice without them.
Emma wasn’t quite sure what had happened. The immediate past was foggy. But right now she was sitting in a room at the mansion, which was almost but not quite entirely alike to hers.
The main oddness was that she was already in it.
The woman lying on the bed reading something that looked mysteriously like a handwritten letter resembled her most shockingly. Their bodies, of which Emma could see quite enough since the short nightdress her double wore left little to the imagination, were identical, even down to the scars. Her hair was slightly shorter, with the blunt turn out that suggested it had been cut recently, and perhaps a shade darker.
The Emma on the bed lowered her letter and looked over at her desk. “Oh,” she said blandly. “It’s me.”
Emma frowned. “How do I know that you’re not an impostor?”
“Well,” the other Emma replied. “I assume that one of us must be an impostor. But as this is my room and aside from you, most things seem unchanged, it is not likely to be me.”
Emma nodded, accepting the logic. “I do seem to be out of place. I don’t quite recall what sent me here, but I’m certain it will be cleared up before long.”
Her double nodded. “Can you toss me a pen? I need to answer this note.”
Emma found one and obeyed. She was curious about who would hand write a letter in these days. “Who is it from?” she inquired.
“Emily,” her double said, as if it were obvious.
Emma frowned. “I… I don’t believe I know that person.”
Her double blinked and looked at her, a slightly shocked expression on her face. “What do you mean, you don’t know who Emily is?”
Emma stared at herself. “I meant what I said. I don’t believe I have an acquaintance of that name. And certainly not one who writes me letters.”
“Hmm,” the other Emma sat up. “She usually calls. But apparently there was nothing to do while she was on stakeout, and wrote instead.”
Stakeout? Emma didn’t inquire. It was rather irritating, though not surprising, that she was telepathically blank to herself. Similar DNA often had that effect. “And she’s…”
Her double gave her a rather confused look.
Somehow that was incredibly easy to read. “Your lover?” The slight squeak at the end was rather humiliating, but Emma didn’t like to be blindsided by things like this.
Her double shrugged. “On and off.” She folded the letter. “Currently on.”
That was almost worse. If she had said ‘on and off’ it would have meant ‘someone who I am serious enough about to apologize to, or to wait until she forgives me,’ which did not happen often. “Oh.”
“You’re not with anyone?”
“I have Scott.”
There was a moment of silence. Her other self looked horrified. “You’re fucking Scott? That’s repulsive.”
Was this some sort of alternate universe where she was a raging lesbian? Because that would be truly unnerving. But she clearly lived at the mansion, and knew Scott well enough to recognize his first name. She must have joined the X-men at some point. They couldn’t be that different. “Please. Don’t tell me you didn’t think about it.”
Her double considered this, making a face. “Well, I did wonder if I could fuck that stick out of his ass.”
Emma smirked. “Out… I haven’t managed. But it turns out he’s rather into pegging.”
The other Emma snorted. “I am not surprised.”
There was a certain twist to her shoulders and a little sneer that put Emma’s back up. Honestly, her double couldn’t think that she had it better, could she? She had Scott (with the mildly unnerving approval of his dead wife), the headmistress position, power, influence, dominance, and her double was writing letters to some woman who was so far off the map that Emma hadn’t even met her. “It’s probably better sex than you get. Aren’t you bored?”
Her double blinked, uncomprehendingly. “Bored? Of what?”
Emma had thought she had made that clear. It wasn’t as if she had no comprehension of what sex with women was like. You didn’t spend years in the Hellfire Club and come out naïve. But it had always seemed rather repetitive. And you had to make an effort, unless you had a slave. But you didn’t write letters to a slave. “Of… girl bits.”
The impostor started to smile. “Well, I can’t say that I am. You do realize that she’s a federal agent, correct?”
Emma nodded, though she hadn’t, but that explained the ‘stakeout’ aspect.
“Which means that everyone she has been with before has considered her butch.”
Emma nodded again, still suspicious.
“Which means that she had never been properly taken with a strap-on before I met her.”
“Oh.” Things were beginning to make sense. She did like to dominate. And someone who was a little tentative, a little virginal was always attractive. (Although, as an educator ‘of age’ was a key requirement here.)
“And the first time I even touched her ass…” her double’s eyes darkened, and Emma sat back slightly uncomfortable and rather aroused. “She is the most receptive, responsive, permissive bottom I have ever fucked.”
Emma swallowed hard.
“And sometimes…” Her double couldn’t keep the cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin off her face. Emma leaned in. “She can put me on my knees and make me beg, and then fucking brutalize me.”
“But you said… you said she’s a bottom.”
The other Emma shrugged. “Only when she likes me. When I piss her off she tops like Selene.”
Emma frowned. “You mean she’ll still fuck you when she’s angry?”
Her double looked confused. “Why wouldn’t she?”
That was a shock. It wasn’t as if Emma couldn’t seduce someone who was angry with her. In fact, it was often the easiest time, because they were already feeling aroused and passionate. But you couldn’t have hate sex and relationship sex with the same person.
“What… kind of relationship do you have?”
Her double looked blank. “There are kinds of relationships?”
That was just the stupid sort of answer she would have responded to a question she didn’t want to answer. “You’re her lover.”
“Are you monogamous?”
Her double glared. “Are you?”
“You’re not answering the question.”
The other Emma pursed her lips and scowled. “Fine. I haven’t… wanted anyone else since I met her.”
“You… what?” Emma stared. The sentence just didn’t make any sense.
“I’m not saying I haven’t been attracted to anyone else! I’m not even saying I haven’t seduced anyone else, or fucked anyone else.” (That one sounded like a lie.) “But… I haven’t desired someone enough to pursue it just for curiosity’s sake. Why would I bother taking the risk of having mediocre sex when I could just go to Emily and have excellent sex?”
Emma gaped at her. “You’re… you’re committed.”
“I am not!”
“Then you’re in love, which is worse!”
The other Emma didn’t respond.
“You know you’re in love.”
“It’s… complicated. And it’s not… relevant, to the sex.”
“No.” Emma laughed, not particularly convincingly. “I’m in love with her, but all that means is I get upset when we fight, and I don’t freak out when she’s in my bed in the morning. But the sex is astonishingly consistent, whatever else is going on.”
“That's… that’s actually pretty incredible.” It was. It was also mildly nauseating. Emma acknowledged that she could feel a certain degree of affection for someone. But it was usually a calm crisp admiration or interest. She didn’t have squashy feelings. And there was no amount of regular mind-blowing sex that would spawn such horrors.
That this was not true for her double was incredibly unnerving.
Emma nodded. “You should try it. I do recommend… Emily Prentiss as a lifestyle choice.”
Emma (the real one) snorted.
“And let her eat you out. You don’t know how good it can get until you’ve had her.”
“I’m not a lesbian.”
Her double rolled her eyes. “Oh come on. You know as well as I that you have tendencies. Remember Astrid?”
“She was messing with my mind!”
“And your pussy.” The other Emma gave a lazy grin. “But not like Emily. Really, you need to hit that before you make any real decisions. Because she has this thing she can do with her tongue… you have no idea.”
Emma glanced away, unnerved by the look of satisfaction on her face. “What’s it like?”
The other Emma licked her lips. “Lets see if I can give you a demo. I don't’ have the agility, but I’ve been trying to learn some of the techniques.”
* * *
“Emma! Are you all right?”
Emma blinked at Henry, hovering over her in the med lab. Logan was in the next bed over and gave her a nod.
“How do you feel?”
Emma considered this. “I feel fine.” She frowned. “Should I be feeling ill?”
Henry scratched his head. “I really couldn’t say. You were brain dead, and then you weren’t. What do you remember?”
“I… I remember,” she paused, because she did remember and was rather disappointed at where it had cut off. “I saw myself. We… spoke.”
Scott was nowhere to be found. Finally he was located in his office.
“Oh, you’re all right.”
“No thanks to you.”
He hadn’t been very worried. Telepaths often did mysterious things like go brain dead at irregular intervals, and generally they came out of it, occasionally with a possessing demon or something else odd. Henry had pronounced her clear. But Scott had been worried. Emma had never seen him do paperwork for any other reason.
He was exactly the type of person she should hate: arrogance and self-righteousness covering up deep and completely unoriginal insecurity. He was like every man she had ever slept with. The only interesting part of him was that he was both terrified and attracted to being weak. He just couldn’t do it without being in control. Well… thinking he was in control. In the end, Emma was always the one in control.
Oh, and sometimes he was insane. That was always entertaining.
Maybe she’d see if she could convince him to role-play tonight. She desperately wanted to find out whether he would fall apart if he had to suck the professor’s cock.
She frowned to herself. That hallucination she had had was very odd. It was probably just wish fulfillment. Who wouldn’t want to be screwing a switch who liked anal and gave great head? She had had nightmares about squashy feelings before. (None of them had involved writing letters though.) It was just a weird mix.
The only thing that was truly strange was that it was so specific. Emily Prentiss… and that she remembered the name.
She checked her mail. “Oh, Tony’s having a party. Interested?”
Scott scowled. “Perhaps to see what he’s up to now.”
Emma rolled her eyes. Scott really didn’t know how to enjoy himself.
* * *