Title: Sweet Talk 101 (1/4)
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds, with a slight Glee (or at least Ryan Murphy) fusion. (Unfortunately also heavily influenced by She's All That and Cruel Intentions)
Rating: NC-17 (possibly not right away, but I make up for it lately.
Pairing: Emma Frost/Sebastian Shaw, Emily Prentiss/JJ Jareau, Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Word Count: 3828 (the whole thing will probably end up about 15,000)
Apologies: So, someone asked for New Years fic, and someone else complained about the lack of smut in Fake Empire (which is PG-13 for a reason! Small children!) and then I was reading the Glee big bangs. And... this happened.
Summary: One of the main tropes of the teen movie is the story of the Bet. See the definition provided by TV Tropes: "The Bet (specifically for the Romantic Comedy version)"
I hate this story. I have always hated this story. You just sit there and wait for the horrible cringeworthy moment where the duplicity is revealed, and then the guy grovels, and most of the time I'm like, 'Dude! What are you thinking! He's an ass! Don't forgive him!" So the other day, I was reading along in the Glee version of this traditional tale, and got to the terms of the bet, and finished the terms of the bet, and then frowned. "But," I thought, "Santana didn't say that Rachel wasn't allowed to just rape her. Honestly, you'd never get away with that if it were Emma." And then I wrote a vaguely pornographic teen movie. I'm sorry.
In every circle of friends there's a whore
The one who flirts and does a little more
But who's to say,
This is a social scene anyway?
And everybody wants to explore the new girl
Caught up in her own hard liquor world
Emma Frost was waiting. She was waiting for a lot of things, for high school to be over, her parents to leave her alone, her life to be less than tedious and predictable. Unfortunately, being barely three weeks in to Junior year, she had a long time left to wait. She yawned, and scanned the lunchroom with a lazy gaze.
It was Sebastian sliding into the seat beside her, where he always sat. Their table was the best one in the lunchroom, on the stage near the window, and there was no one who would dare to try and take it from them.
She looked at him, the sly glint in his eyes, his dark hair, worn just a little longer than regulation, brushing against the collar of his uniform jacket. He was handsome, and knew it, but looks didn’t keep. Even now Emma could tell the tale-tell signs of thinning hair, and he’d be battling a receding hairline before he turned twenty-five. His hand settled on her thigh, sliding up under her skirt.
“I think I can fix that.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Unlikely.” She was looking for something new. There was absolutely nothing about fucking Sebastian that she hadn’t done before. Well, except for one thing, and she wasn’t bending on that.
“Let me try,” Seb whined, fingers moving into the heat of her inner thigh. Emma jerked away from him.
“Cut it out, dickhead.”
He grinned, turning back to his plate. “Well, if you really don’t want to hear my suggestion…”
He sounded way too pleased with himself. Emma glowered in his direction. “A suggestion that doesn’t have anything to do with fucking my ass?”
“I thought you might be interested in a wager.”
Emma blinked. That… could be interesting.
In some ways, Emma and Sebastian were a bit more like siblings than lovers: competitive, childish, needlessly cruel. Occasionally, Emma wondered if it was the sex that made their relationship just a little more tolerable than the ones she had with her siblings. She had contemplated in an idle moment or two, if those relationships could be improved by the same means. Fucking her sister Adrienne, preferably gagged and tied to the bed, would undoubtedly be cathartic. It might even give them a mutually beneficial way to express their endless mutual hatred. Or someone would die of not-so-erotic asphyxiation. It was probably better not to risk it.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, you know how I’m always happy to provide you with anyone you might want to fuck?”
Emma thought that was probably overstating the case. Once she had told him, ‘you know, I think I want to fuck a girl,’ and he had procured one for her. The rest of the time he just brought her people he thought she’d look good fucking. The bald guy with the tattoos had been creepy, but the redhead chick that summer had been hot.
“And although of course I will continue to do so, I’m worried that I’m keeping you from developing the skills necessary to find people on your own.”
“Are you saying that you think I can’t seduce someone?” She had snagged him, hadn’t she? She knew her sister’s clique was the powerful one, and she had watched it as a freshman, and decided that Sebastian was one of the most likely to rise to the top. Then she had taken him. It hadn’t been difficult. She had been fifteen and a Frost, and he had been a teenage boy with ambition. And she had made him wait four months before letting him fuck her.
Sebastian waved his hand casually. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you could get any boy in this school to fuck you. It won’t be interesting without a challenge.”
“A girl then?” Sebastian grinned lewdly. “I’m not fucking a straight girl. They’re boring. Virgins too. I’m not teaching anyone anything. It’s like running a fucking kindergarten.
“What about the new girl?”
Emma followed his glance to the casual figure standing near one of the sophomore tables, long and lanky in the boys’ uniform trousers and a ponytail.
“She’s not new anymore.” But Emma watched her as she leaned over, putting her hand on a blonde girl’s shoulder to whisper in her ear.
Emily Prentiss had started at the school last year as a sophomore, even though she was already seventeen, with an air of mystery that had been the school’s obsession for the first three months of the year. Apparently she had been ill, and then taken the last year off, spending it sailing around the world, getting a tan that touched her skin with a warm exotic glow, and coming to terms with her sexuality, which, as the school gossip machine had discovered and spread everywhere, was bi-sexual, but generally prefers girls.
Sebastian leaned into her neck, his breath brushing against her hair and skin. “You know everyone wants to have that.”
“Why do you think it would be a challenge?”
“Because she’s been here long enough to know who you are. And she doesn’t do casual.”
Emma tore her gaze away from the girl’s ass and looked at him. “How many times have you propositioned her?”
Sebastian tried to look offended. “Only once for myself!” She waited. “Twice for threesomes, and three times for you.”
“You mean for filming.”
“She’s not the type you smile at and say, ‘you know, I would love to put you in one of my pool party videos.’”
Emma snorted. That was kind of obvious. “What are the rules?”
“I want to see you inside her.”
Emma looked at him sharply. His gaze was steady, lecherous as always. Sebastian did love to watch. “How?”
“Oh, any way, fingers, tongue, cock, even a turkey baster if you really want to get busy.”
“The wrong end of a rake?”
“Sounds sexy.” He lowered his eyebrows. “But it’s you in her. I’ve seen you get fucked a thousand times. I want something new.”
“You win either way, don’t you?”
“Visual verification is just making sure you don’t lie. And don’t rape her. That’s cheating.”
“What are we playing for?”
Sebastian’s hand slid over her ass. “How about we make it for that?”
Emma’s elbow landed hard in his side. “So you get my anal cherry if you win, and a new video if I do. What’s in it for me?”
“Besides banging her?” Sebastian shrugged. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I wouldn’t cut my own throat to please you.” He smiled. “But I’d cut someone else’s.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I’ll tell you what I want when I win.”
“When? Now, you’re getting cocky.”
* * *
Emily Prentiss was not a fool. She was not a sucker. If she had been once, she had left it behind her a long time ago, and was not looking back. And thus, when someone as unrepentantly bitchy and sour as Emma fucking Frost smiled at you while handing you a beer, it was going in the bushes immediately. Getting roofied, for whatever purpose, was not her idea of a good time.
Emma must have seen the look on her face as she took the beer, because the smile disappeared immediately and turned into a much more familiar scowl. “I didn’t drug it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she snapped.
“Did someone else?”
Emma reached out and jerked the beer out of her hand and replaced it with her own.
Emily eyed it, and then looked back at Emma. “Are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet, or his enemy’s?”
Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Are you being nerdy at me?”
“Is that a problem?” Emily took a sip, grinning at the taste. It was much better quality than the usual cats’ piss they served at these kind of parties. She hadn’t intended on giving it away. She raised her cup in a mimed toast. “Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.”
Emma continued to glower. “Do I just wait for you to keel over dead now?”
“From delicious chocolaty dark beer?”
Emma cocked her head, giving her an intent look, and then straightened up, lifting her chest, putting the smile back on. “Do you like bodyshots?”
“Depends on the body.” Emily patted her shoulder and enjoyed watching her flinch. “Look, it’s been… uh, nice to have you hit on me. But I should probably go find my girlfriend right now.” She turned away, glancing back to see Emma’s expression contort into a scowl. “And a word of advice? When you’re hitting on girls, try not to make it so obvious that you’re faking being nice. Guys don’t usually care one way or another, but girls prefer the wrapping to match the contents.”
“You should know, since you spread your legs for both,” Emma snapped.
“One at a time, darling,” Emily replied, still smiling, but letting it get a little meaner. “Just one at a time.”
* * *
JJ didn’t drink at parties. Unlike half of the kids at this school, she still lived at home, and unlike the other half, her parents still cared about her, and if she ever showed up past curfew drunk and stinking of liquor and smoke, she didn’t even want to imagine what her ex-marine father would do. She didn’t have to imagine actually, since her older sister had come home drunk and stoned on a regular basis, and she had been woken up by the shouting.
But it wasn’t like she was a good girl. She had her secrets.
Emily’s mouth was hot on her neck, her fingers sliding up under her shirt to cup her breasts through her bra, thumb rubbing purposefully over her nipple. JJ had kissed boys. She had let some of them get to second base. But not a single one had ever treated second base like a bargaining position, or a control panel, where with the right series of commands, a skilled player could get her to spread her legs without a single murmur of complaint.
With a tiny snick of metal, JJ felt her bra slacken, and get pushed out of the way. Emily shifted her weight on top of her, and then was kissing her again, her tongue snaking in with just a little too much eagerness, her fingertips brushing bare skin, and JJ’s nipples pricked up, hard and demanding attention, and swiftly, Emily hiked up her shirt, broke the kiss, and ducked down, tongue curling roughly and eagerly around it, her fingers working the other one, quickly, and just a little too lightly. And JJ made a sound more like a squeal than a moan and canted her hips up, desperately wanting to hump against her leg. And then she jerked back.
“No!” She pushed Emily off of her, jerking her shirt down, and curling her arms around her. She felt herself soaking her underwear, and huddled tighter. “Why do you always get me worked up like that?” she asked, pathetically.
Emily was sitting back on her heels and grinning at her in that slightly pitying way she always did when JJ had had enough. It wasn’t as if she had really had enough, and Emily knew it, but it was scary, having someone else so totally in control of her reactions, and she wasn’t going to give it up in the backseat of a car, thank you very much.
“You don't have to deny yourself all the time,” Emily said, her voice silky. She patted her thigh. “Just grind yourself off. It’s not even sex.”
JJ shook her head. “Not here.”
Parked behind Derek’s house with a hundred people ready to peek through the window was not where she wanted to lose it. And her mouth twisted at Emily’s words. She was just a little too casual about saying stuff like that. It was always a heavy reminder that she was eighteen, and that whatever she had done in the time she hadn’t been in school, she wasn’t telling. JJ had asked, and Emily had smiled and shown her photos of India and Malaysia and Japan, and had kept her lips sealed about anything but the most teasing, ‘you have to fall in love a few times, or you won’t be able to handle it when it’s for real.’
“Come back to my apartment?”
JJ checked her watch and then shook her head. “It’s almost curfew.”
“You could call and tell them you’re sleeping over.”
JJ looked at her steadily. “I can’t do that. You know why. I don’t tell my parents everything, but if I do tell them, I won’t let them think I abused their trust.”
Emily’s eyes changed, like they always did when she said something like that, and she nodded slowly. “Of course,” she said.
And that was why JJ was taking a risk and dating her, eighteen, and female, and too mysterious for her own good, because when she said she didn’t want to lie to her parents, she didn't laugh. She understood. And Emily didn’t even live with her parents anymore. They lived in Boston, and she had her own apartment near the school. It was one of the reasons JJ had accepted her offer in the first place, because it was so clear she was lonely.
Emily sighed and leaned back against the seat. “You know I’d never do anything to push you into it, into anything you’re not ready for. But it would be easier if you…”
“I can’t tell them. I can’t let it get back to them either. They’d never let me out of the house again.” JJ pouted. “And you’re eighteen. My dad prosecutes statutory rape cases all the time.”
If Emily had been drinking she would have snorted it out her nose. “Oh way to kill the mood!”
“There was no mood! You asked me why I won’t come out to my parents. Stone dead, Emily!”
Emily shook her head. “If I could hang out with you at school, we wouldn’t need to spend so much time making out in the backseat of cars. You know I’m not interested in casual, and you know I’m not in it for sex. If I wanted to fuck someone and never speak to them at school, I have options. I’m pretty sure Emma Frost was going to proposition me tonight, if I hadn’t shot her down preemptively.”
JJ stiffened. “If you even go near that whore, this is so over.”
“That’s rich, coming from you! You keep me at arms length all day, crawl in my lap at night, and then prude out before I get any satisfaction. At least I’d get off with her! And I wouldn’t be being jerked around by a fucking tease.”
That was going way too far. “You’d just have HIV.”
Emily rolled her eyes and glared. “I don’t want her. That wasn’t the point. I want you. But maybe you’re too young to be serious. It’s okay. I get that.”
“I’m not too young,” JJ spat, her eyes burning. She hated it when Emily played that card. It wasn’t her fault what year she was born. And of course she wanted serious. She knew a lot of people wanted Emily because she was cool, and different, and older. But those weren’t her reasons. “And maybe you don’t even know what serious is, if you talk so casually about how you could have cheated on me if you wanted to.”
“It’s not me cheating on you that you need to worry about.”
“Is that a threat?” JJ stuck out her chin “It’s not my fault if you can’t keep your hands to yourself while we’re kissing. It’s not like I get any satisfaction out of it either, and it’s not like I want it less just because I haven’t spent a year sleeping my way around the world.”
Emily sagged, looking down into her lap. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am being hypocritical. I keep telling you I don’t want to push you into anything, and then I push, push, push, just because I want to spend more time with you.”
JJ blinked quickly a few times. She hated when Emily looked lonely like that. “I want to spend more time with you too,” she said, crawling carefully into her lap and leaning in to kiss her. “Just, not yet.”
* * *
“I thought you were going to see your girlfriend.”
Emily was sitting on the couch in Derek’s basement, drink in hand, and staring blankly into the distance. Emma stood by the arm, looking down at her, waiting for her to look up, acknowledge her.
“I did. Had to bring her home. Curfew.”
“And yet you came back.” Emma perched on the arm.
Emily shrugged, her eyes, hard and still distant, flickering over her, and then returning to the nothing that seemed as distracting as a television. “Didn’t feel like going home.”
“I didn’t know you were dating that soccer-playing freshman.”
“Sophomore,” Emily corrected, and then gave her a sharp look, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you would have backed off if you did.”
Emma snorted. “Of course not. It doesn’t count anyways. You’re not getting anything from her. She’s got virgin written all over her.”
“Like you’ve got slut?”
Emma’s hand shot to her forehead. “Oh, shit. Not again!”
“Not again?” Emily was laughing now, and that was the point.
“When you have a sister like mine, you always check for Sharpie in the mornings.” Emma shook her head. “Thank god I don’t live at home anymore.”
Emily nodded. “Same.”
“You’re too old for the dorms, aren’t you? They don’t want you corrupting the minors.”
“With what? My ability to vote?” Emily shook her head. “I’m too old for the dorms because I’m too old for the dorms, not because they don’t want me there.”
“You’re dating a fifteen year old.”
Emily just looked at her and arched an eyebrow. “We’re not sleeping together. Remember?”
“If you’re too old for the dorms, you’re probably too old to be dating freshmen.”
“She’s a sophomore.” Emma grunted, expressing her lack of interest in irrelevant details. “You’re a junior. You’re, what? Sixteen?”
Emily stared at her. “It’s eighteen in Massachusetts.”
Emma grinned. “I’m legal for you. It’s only eighteen if the minor is ‘of chaste life.’ That was gone a long time ago.”
“It’s nice to know that sometimes the rumor mill isn’t wrong. They still call a whore a whore.”
Emma grinned, kicking off her shoes and swinging her feet into Emily’s lap, kneading like a cat. “I don’t take cash.”
Emily jerked away, shoving her feet off. “Did I say anything that suggested I would even think about sleeping with you?”
“You didn’t say you wouldn’t.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you!” Emily jumped up off the couch and turned to yell at her. It was irritating. Emma stared at her blankly.
“Didn’t you hear anything I said about having a girlfriend?”
“I’m not asking to be your girlfriend.” Even the word left a bad taste in Emma’s mouth. She slid off the arm of the couch and prowled towards her. Emily tensed, eyeing her nervously, but she didn’t move away. “I don’t even want to sleep with you.” And then she was close enough to brush against her, and Emily clearly had nice tits. It was stupid of her to keep them covered up like that.
“No?” Emily stammered, utterly lost.
Emma grinned and bumped their hips together. She curled her hand around her face. “I just want to fuck you,” she whispered, so softly that Emily leaned in to try to hear better, and Emma took the opportunity to kiss her.
Emma didn’t kiss nice, and Emily tried to fight her off, but Emma had a good grip on her hair, and with a quick shove at the right moment, she had her pinned against the wall. And then Emily kissed back, her hands closing on Emma’s ass, lifting her up just a little, and she kissed to win. When Emma’s lips parted she pushed in, fucking her tongue into her mouth. She dug her nails into Emma’s shoulders and raked them down her back. Their teeth clashed, Emma moaned into her mouth, and she bit, hard, into her lower lip, and when Emma hissed and pulled back, she shoved her off. Emily wiped her mouth off on her sleeve.
“I know you’re just messing with me,” she said flatly, shoulders up, fists clenched defensively. “Tell me. Is it a bet, or a dare?”
Emma frowned, rubbing her thumb over the bite mark on her lip, checking to see if it was bleeding, and eyeing her coolly. Emily Prentiss was not what she had expected. “It’s a bet,” she replied, eventually. Sebastian never said she had to lie about it. Tough shit was a good look on that girl. “And I’m not going to lose it.”
“I really think you are.”
* * *
And this was one of the reasons Emily hadn’t wanted to go back to high school. People in high school were stupid.
“You made a bet. About me? Or was I just the first lesbian to cross your line of vision?”
“Oh no. It was about you.” Emma smiled in that way that made it look like she was purring. “It was probably a better choice than even we knew. You’re kind of an… unknown quantity. Secret history, secret girlfriend, secret talent for… domination.”
Emily tried not to let her cringe show on her face. Letting Emma find out about JJ was probably the second (third?) stupidest thing she had ever done, and she had done her best to play it off like it wasn’t a secret, but apparently Emma hadn’t been fooled.
“And the bet is to what? Sleep with me, or humiliate me utterly?”
“To fuck you.”
“And is there anyone else competing with you? Do I have to watch out for six guys too?”
Emma snorted. “Would that make you more worried?”
“You’re quite enough.” Emily sighed. “Your plan was, what? Roofie me and tie me up?”
“I didn’t drug the beer!” Emma snapped. “Sebastian said I couldn’t rape you, and I would be fucking humiliated to have to drug you to get you to sleep with me.”
“Oh good,” replied Emily, completely disgusted with the whole situation. “I’m glad that raping me doesn’t count to win the bet.”
“It kind of misses the point.”
“Doesn’t telling me miss the point?”
“I don’t need to lie to you to get to fuck you.”
“You need a lot more than you have right now.”
Emily turned and stormed up the stairs out of Derek’s basement and into the fresh fall night. She did not need this. Her life was fucked up enough without being the butt of a teen-movie-style joke.* * *