Title: Scott’s Emma (Part 5) Extra Edition!
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: 2450
Apologies: So, yeah. I think someone told me a long time ago that there needed to be a sequel to this where Emma gets to be on the receiving end. I agreed in principle, but couldn't write it then. So I wrote it now. :D Unrepentant smut. This is like fanfiction of my own fanfiction of my own fanfiction. Oi. I know it's not FE. Sry!
Summary: My Emma, who has wandered so far away from continuity, meets the Emma in continuity, and proceeds to mess up her life.
“So? Was dating me as horrible as you thought it would be?”
Emma sauntered into her apartment like she owned the place. Emily hadn’t actually invited her in, but she had paid the cab driver and let him go, so she supposed the invitation was implied. And it really hadn’t been bad at all. She had expected a lot worse. Emma was flirty and charming and entirely on her best behavior. It was sort of weird, in fact, as if she were trying to say, “I’m serious this time. You’re different.” But that whole ‘double from an alternate universe’ thing had freaked Emily out enough the first time they met. If this really was different and they weren’t going to cheat or keep secrets, they’d have to prove that by doing it, not by claiming that this one was destiny and all the other types were so much gum trying to hold back a walking foot.
But it was just a first date, even if Emma had already nailed her ass, and it was the sort of date Emily had wanted, where you could laugh, and ask questions, and tell stupid stories until the manager came around to kick you out because they were closing. And Emma was clearly making an effort to not make it all about sex, which she obviously wasn’t used to. It seemed like she was almost apologizing. Emily thought she should make the most of that.
“It wasn’t horrible.” Emily tapped her cheek with a light brush of fingers, even lighter than a playful slap, but still carrying the same intention. “Not that I ever said it would be.”
The touch had been a trigger, and Emma was looking at her now, intent, her blue eyes almost black. She had stopped pretending she didn’t care about sex, but Emily had been having a really hard time pretending herself in the last hour or so too. “Go get me some wine,” She pushed Emma lightly in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a second.”
Emma was totally peeking into her head. The corners of her eyes crinkled up in amusement at what she saw. Emily just glared. She had been working on her shielding, and pushing certain thoughts forward, and she just hoped that it had worked. She slipped off into her bedroom, shutting the door, and started humming to herself to block out casual reading.
When she came out, Emma was lounging on the sofa, shoes and jacket off. Her white blouse was half unbuttoned, flashing deep cleavage of nearly the same color, the sleeves pushed up over her elbows. Her hair had come loose, still twisted into a tight cylinder that draped over her shoulder, but the clip was sitting next to the wine bottle, open, two glasses poured.
Emma grinned lasciviously up at her. “I thought you said that it was moving too fast to bring anything.”
“Well,” Emily smiled back, moving carefully to not reveal the game too soon, and coming to sit on the arm of the couch. “I really didn’t want you to bring stuff, because I didn’t want you to assume I wasn’t prepared.”
Emma let out a laugh that sounded surprised and involuntary. “Oh really?”
Emma’s eyes dropped low and she gave a sly smile, but when she spoke it was somewhat hesitant. “Are you sure you’re not still pissed at me for blowing things with your girlfriend?”
“Oh, come on,” Emily said, moving down from her perch and closer to Emma. “If you hadn’t I would have never heard her yelping, ‘I thought you were a dyke! You slurped that boy’s cock down and choked on it. He was like fifteen! You didn’t even make him wear a condom!’ And now everyone thinks I’m a straight pedophile who likes risky sex.” Emma laughed, and Emily moved in, catching her face and kissing her, and grinding the strap on she wore into her belly. Emma groaned into the kiss, and her hand slid around to cup Emily’s ass and squeeze. The other slid between her legs and curled around the base of the cock, tugging gently.
“You want to fuck me, darling?” she murmured into her mouth. “You really think you can handle that?”
Emily’s hands slid up her chest and groped her breasts. “I know I can handle that.” She kissed her again, forcefully, pushing her into her mouth. Emma opened for her and sucked deeply on her tongue. Her grip tightened on the strap-on and she ground it into Emily. Emily unbuttoned the last few buttons on her shirt and pushed it apart, un-tucking it in one jerk. Then she hiked up her skirt, sliding her hands up the smooth skin of Emma’s legs, and caught her underwear, pulling them down. She was already half thrusting into Emma’s hand, and feeling the soaked crotch of her underwear only made her want to fuck against it harder.
“You want this.”
“I’ve wanted you all fucking night,” Emma gasped into her mouth.
And if that wasn’t an ego boost, nothing was. “Up.”
Emily slid off of her, pulling the underwear all the way down and off, and pressed them to her mouth and nose, breathing in before dropping them. She got to her feet and pulled off her short silk nightdress. Emma just looked at her, eyes wide, breathing through her nose. Her hair wasn’t just loose now, it was on its way to being a mess, and her skin was warm and glowing, and Emily needed her with her legs spread right now.
Emma got shakily to her feet, and Emily stepped into her. She tugged off her shirt, letting it drop to the ground and then caught the hem of her skirt and shoved it up. She slid her hands under it and dug her fingers into her ass. One finger pressed deep inside and Emma made a strained unhappy sound in her ear, and caught her arms below the elbow, nails digging into soft flesh.
“Bend over the arm,” Emily hissed into her ear. Emma pulled back slightly, looking at her, eyes wide, and swallowing quickly to keep the saliva from running out the corners of her mouth.
“Facing up or down?”
Emily cast a glance at the arm and back at Emma. “You can manage up?”
Emma gave it a tight glance as well. “It’s pretty broad.”
Emily just nodded and Emma moved back to the couch. Keeping her skirt hiked up she settled on it so the arm supported the small of her back and then leaned over, interweaving her fingers and putting them behind her head, arching her back, her white bra lifting her breasts up even more. Emily stepped in between her knees and traced a finger around her navel. Emma’s eyes closed tightly and her arms tensed. Emily smiled to herself and then walked her fingers down to her pussy. She let them stroke up her folds, parting them, and getting wet. Then she cupped the underside of Emma’s thigh and lifted. “Up,” she instructed and Emma let her pull her leg up, straighten it, and press it against her shoulder. The cock was brushing against her cunt and Emma was giving occasional little shudders, and this was so much better than Emily had imagined it would be, and she had imagined it a lot.
Her hand wrapped around the base of the cock and she stepped in closer, pushing Emma’s leg up straight and her other out wide, making her give a lovely little grunt of discomfort, and Emily dragged the head of the cock up her cleft, slowly, but not lightly at all. She found the entrance with her fingers, scissoring gently, before pressing the cock against it and pushing in. She caught Emma’s hips, using the skirt as an anchor, and fed it inside, moving closer until there was no space between them. Emma had lost her comfortable position. She was clinging the top of the couch with one hand and the other was groping for anything to push up off of.
“Here.” Emily leaned forward between her legs and Emma gave a little grunt of protest. But Emily was just grabbing a throw pillow and she pushed it under her shoulders for a little more support. “Better?”
“If you don’t fuck me right now…” Emma muttered, her voice almost a whisper.
“Is that a threat?” Emily asked, amused. She shifted her weight, making the strap-on move inside of her. Emma bucked.
She felt Emma stiffen under her at the tone she had used, and she could feel how wet she had gotten by the way the cock slipped inside her. Emily’s hands tightened on her skirt and she started to move her hips. She went slow at first, but once it was clear that she wasn’t going to fuck her off the couch, she went faster, and Emma started to make sounds, pretty, pleading, desperate sounds. Her fingers dug into the upholstery and she arched her back, too pinned to be able to thrust back into her.
“Harder,” she managed, and Emily could go harder. She wasn’t anywhere yet. She laughed a little, and Emma’s eyes blinked open, wide and surprised, and Emily jerked her hips into her, changing her foot position slightly to get more power.
And then she looked up, and their eyes met. It was like a jerk from straight between the eyes, and everything was different. She could feel Emma under her, the warm skin of her inner thigh as Emily fucked into her. The tense firm strength of the leg pressing hot against her shoulder, the smooth curve of her back under her fingers. But she could feel what she was feeling too, every thrust drilling her back into the arm of the couch, the ache in her fingers and neck, and the hard deep invasion of her cock. She could feel the pleasure, but she could feel the fear too, at being bent over something, legs split open, sharp thrusts plowing her into pieces, totally unable to get away. And Emily knew, personally, and in a way she couldn’t explain, how that made it so much better. It wasn’t intimate, and trust made things boring. There was nothing boring about making someone gasp and break and hurt when they had no idea how far you could go.
Emily’s hands tightened and she increased the speed, needing to pound out another gasp, another desperate whimper, the space between her legs slick with arousal. But she hung on mentally too. She grabbed a hold of that fear, keeping Emma underneath her, at her mercy, feeling everything that she felt and loving the power of pressing her down, and fucking her to pieces. In her head she pushed harder, her hands tightening around her, keeping her helpless and trapped. She could feel the fear coming from Emma, the struggle, a vicious bite against her hands, (but they weren’t covering her mouth, were they?), a lash from a whip she couldn’t see, but it fed into everything else, and she just held on tighter.
She thrust in hard and Emma’s back arched, her arms pushing up, her free leg coming up to lock around Emily’s waist and drag them closer together. She cried out as she came, and the backwash of feeling was too much. Emily’s knees buckled as it hit her, and she slumped to the floor, the cock sliding out of Emma’s slick cunt and bouncing with a wet slap against her thigh.
Resting with her cheek pressed into the moist heat between her legs, a knee hooked over her shoulder, Emily noticed the shaking first. She looked up. Emma was still draped over the arm of the couch, not trying to extricate herself. But her hands were pressed to her face, and she was crying. Emily jerked back, letting Emma’s leg drop to the floor, and swallowing hard. She managed to get to her feet and unfastened straps quickly, letting the cock drop to the floor.
“Are you okay?” She dropped to her knees beside the couch and carefully moved one of Emma’s hands. “I didn’t hurt you. Did I hurt you?”
Emma took a long shuddery breath. “You have no idea what you just did, do you?” she said, carefully shuffling off of the arm of the couch and resting her back on the flat seat. She wiped her eyes and glanced over, intent, and then Emily knew what she had done.
“You let me.”
“I let you in.” She was quiet, and Emily didn’t have to chase the remnants of the feeling to understand that she was still scared, scared because she hadn’t made a conscious choice to open up. “But I didn’t let you do that.” And Emily had just kept holding her down, getting off on the control and the power. She hadn’t realized that it meant something different when it was in her head. She also hadn’t realized that she probably wasn’t supposed to be able to hold her down in her own mind. “I think meeting my fucking double made me trust you too much,” she muttered.
Emily blinked. “You trust me?”
Emma waved it away and managed to sit up. She made a little wince when she did, her hand sliding between her legs, but pulling back before she touched. “Not consciously. Unconsciously.” She flashed a tight smile. “I wanted you to top me physically. I didn’t mean to let you top me in my head.”
Emily sighed. “Well, now you know what it’s like then.” It wasn’t as if she made a habit of letting people fuck her at parties or in the coatrooms of clubs. And every time it seemed like she had forgotten how to say no, forgotten how to keep Emma out and not want it. Letting someone actually fuck you in your head couldn’t be that different.
Emma clearly knew what she was thinking and gave her a dirty look. But Emily just smirked.
“What?” Emma scowled at her.
“Nothing! Just… “ She made circular motions around her eyes. “You make a cute raccoon.”
Ignoring Emma’s disgust she clambered up onto the couch and pushed her down, curling up next to her. She stroked her back gently, aware of the pain in it, until Emma gave in and leaned into her shoulder.
“Just so you don’t get the wrong idea,” Emma muttered into her chest. “Any time you want to bend me over something and fuck me like that again, go for it. It’s totally fine.”
Emily grinned and pulled Emma more securely against her. “I’ll remember that.”