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The first thing she notices as she comes back to consciousness is the temperature; it’s freezing. The cold air feels like winter blowing in the wind, sending an icy chill throughout her entire body. Usually, when she’s cold, she gets the sense that there’s something out there; some intrinsic warmth that burns within her chest, no matter how frigid she may feel. That warmth, that hope; it’s absent now.
Nonetheless, having been trained to handle exactly this type of situation, Emily quickly takes in her surroundings. She’s bound at her wrists and ankles, the ropes tight and unforgiving. The twine’s grip upon her flesh is biting, bitter where it rubs into her skin as she struggles. The room is dark, the only light bleeding in from a slightly ajar door opposite of where she sits. It’s casting an ominous, yet hauntingly familiar pattern of shadows, all across the cement walls.
He has her. It’s over. She thinks to herself.
All too suddenly, the door opens wider, allowing more light to flood her vision. She blinks rapidly as her eyes attempt to adjust to the newfound abundant illumination of her surroundings, and when her pupils eventually become accustomed, he appears.
Emily’s breath catches in her throat as he crosses the threshold into the room, beginning to stalk towards her. She takes him in. Dark jeans, receding hairline, topped off with a leather jacket. The accompanying, sickening smirk laid across his features makes her want to scream, but she knows nothing would come of it, not now. Emily can scream as loudly as she wants, it won’t save her.
Trapped in a warehouse, most likely situated in the middle of nowhere, tied to a wooden chair, Emily hopes for the end.
Doyle’s green eyes sparkle with satisfaction as he recognizes the unbridled fear in her gaze. He gets off on her alarm, she knows. She’d witnessed his twisted affinities firsthand, a lifetime ago. Sweat traces her brow, her extremities buzzing from the lack of blood flow. Ropes tend to do that, she supposes.
“For all your bluster, terror does look quite good on you, love.” The Irishman spits, that same smirk returning when he finishes speaking. Emily blinks a few times, attempting to will this into being nothing but a dream. If only she could just wake up.
“Whatever you’re going to do… get on with it.” Emily responds, trying to appear unafraid. She fails, she’d known she would. He is her biggest weakness. The trauma he’d subjected her to; nightmares of a past that haunts her days, dreams of the horrors she’d endured; they refuse to leave her, even in her slumber.
The brunette doesn’t fear much, truly. From the way she’d been raised, she’d had to be tough. Emily had been through more than most adults could ever imagine by the time she was fifteen. There’s really only two things that can break her down like this, reducing her to a terrified puddle of recollection-stricken fear.
She truly only fears two things; him, and the thought of her. If Emily dies in this warehouse, she’ll never get to say goodbye. JJ will be left to wander the world without her. The blonde is strong, she’d survive, but Emily wouldn’t. That, as simple as it sounds, has the ability to lessen her from a formidable federal agent to a far more weakened foe.
“Ah, I see the realization has finally hit.” He smiles wickedly, appreciative of her terror. “Don’t fret, darling.” He smiles, walking behind her to cradle her shoulders in his calloused hands. She tenses at the feeling of his touch; it’s become so foreign now.
At one time, Emily had conditioned herself to accept it, in order to appease him. She once spent nearly every night forcing herself to play along, to pretend to enjoy it as he used her body for his own pleasure. Regardless, afterwards, when he’d roll over and fall asleep without a second thought, she’d lock herself in the bathroom. She couldn’t ever scrub her skin hard enough; she had always been left feeling so unimaginably dirty.
Eventually, she’d resorted to drawing a razor blade across her flesh; that provided some semblance of relief, but even that wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever have been enough. This is not then, though, she reminds herself. Her name is no longer Lauren, and she no longer has to bear this. This time, she can fight back.
“Your girl is safe. I have my men watching her now, in fact.” He smiles, knowing what his words will do to her.
Ice runs through Emily’s veins. JJ isn’t safe, not if Doyle’s men are tailing her. Giving up isn’t an option anymore, not if JJ is in danger. She wants to fight, to destroy him for even threatening to touch the woman she loves. Still, the ropes remain tight around her wrists. It’s sick, really. That even now, after all these years, even when she’s supposedly free of him, she isn’t. Not truly. She fears she may never be.
“Take me, don’t hurt her. Please. I’ll do whatever you want.” Emily shakes her head quickly, resigning herself to the reality of her current situation. “I’ll let you do whatever you want, just… let her be.” She pleads.
Truthfully, Emily had long ago learned to be quite good at leaving her body, letting her mind drift off to some other plane of existence, somewhere where this sick man has no claim to her body. She’s had quite a bit of practice, after all. She would do anything, endure anything, if it guaranteed JJ’s safety.
“Ah, that’s what I like to hear.” He rounds the chair she’s tied to, coming to stand in front of her once more. “If you put up a fight, she dies.” Doyle says, smiling at the realization in Emily’s eyes. Tears threaten to fall down her cheeks, but the brunette wills them away. He doesn’t get to see her cry; she won’t give him the satisfaction. He’s already taken so much from her, he doesn’t get this, too.
With every ounce of strength she can muster, she nods.
He grins, letting his hands fall to her black blouse. The satisfaction, sickly displayed on his face, causes knots to twist within her stomach.
Emily prepares herself. She’s done this before, suffered through three years of it when she’d masqueraded as Lauren. It had been a prison of the devil’s own personal design, built specifically to break her. Still, she’d survived, as she always does. Regardless, she’s out of practice. Alarms blare in her head, telling her to scream, to run, to wake up.
“Wake up.” A voice goads her, just as the first button of her shirt is undone by Doyle’s cruel and unsympathetic fingers. The voice doesn’t belong to him, nor does it belong to Emily herself, but it is familiar.
“Em, please, baby. Wake up.” The light, feminine tone grows louder, but it doesn’t reach her. Emily is all-too concerned with the unbridled, all-consuming fear that encompasses her entire existence as another button is undone. The thought of this; of him doing this to her again, is too defaning to let anything, anyone else, seep through. The brunette closes her eyes as he reaches the final fastener.
“Emily!” The voice breaks her out of the nightmare suddenly.
Emily’s eyes shoot open. The ropes around her wrists become kind, gentle hands; soft fingers interlacing with her own. The unforgiving wooden chair becomes a soft, plush bed beneath her back, a pastel duvet at the foot of the bed. The man that haunts her sleep morphs into the woman who lights up her days;
JJ.
“Emily? You were dreaming, baby. It was just a dream.” JJ soothes quickly, pulling the other woman into her arms. The brunette finds herself enveloped in a comforting embrace, calming words being spoken into her ear, the voice sweet and dripping with practiced care. She allows herself to be hugged, burying her face into JJ’s neck. The scent of strawberries and linen fills her senses, bringing her back to reality, however slowly.
Emily, regardless of JJ’s comforting voice and sympathetic touch, is still reeling. The utterly jarring juxtaposition between this and where she’d been mere moments before is downright alarming. Though truthfully, it’s quite a common occurrence. The trauma of her death and resurgence is still fresh; they’d only fled to Paris about two weeks ago, and although her mandated therapy sessions are helping, she’s still recovering. Emily feels the tears start to make their way down her cheeks, falling without her permission.
“Shhh. It’s okay. I’m here.” JJ soothes, drawing nonsensical patterns on the brunette’s t-shirt covered back. “You were dreaming, baby. He’s not here, he can’t hurt you anymore.” The blonde promises, feeling the tears meet her shoulder as they continue to fall without pause. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” JJ’s hand, the one not on Emily’s back, begins twirling throughout strands of long, dark hair.
Emily tries to stifle the sobs that escape her, but it’s no use; they just keep coming. She feels a light kiss being placed at the crown of her head, JJ’s soft lips attempting to bring her some semblance of comfort, and that’s all it takes for the dam to break.
“I— I can’t, he’s— I—” Emily stumbles through the words, hyperventilated breaths passing in and out of her lungs at a rapid pace. Chilling scenarios of possible horrors fly through her head, seemingly a million per minute. “JJ, he—” The words catch in her throat, as if speaking them aloud into their haven of a bedroom will make the nightmare real.
“It’s okay. I’m here, Em. I’ve got you.” The blonde remains calm throughout it all. Every sob, every sniffle, she’s right there, guiding the brunette through it. JJ knows — she understands — that her girlfriend is terrified, haunted by her past, the culmination of her years spent undercover having nearly snuffed out the flame of life that burns within Emily.
“He— He had you, JJ.” The older woman breathes it out, so small it’s almost inaudible. JJ catches it, though, having attuned herself to pick up every nearly-silent whisper that Emily could ever utter in this most sacred, intimate moment.
“But he doesn’t, baby. He’s not here; we are.” JJ says, lifting the brunette’s face from her neck so their eyes meet. She cups tear-stricken cheeks in her palms, wiping away the evidence of Emily’s fear upon her face. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” The blonde tucks a strand of hair behind the brunette’s ear, attempting to coax her back to the present.
“He—” A small sob is heard, though it’s quickly stifled and dismissed. “He could find us, I know him.” Emily says, still trembling. Regardless of her dread-laced words, JJ is steady. She just listens, her thumbs continuing to wipe the tears from Emily’s cheeks. “He won’t give up until he does.” She says.
“It doesn’t matter.” JJ hastily responds, her tone leaving no room for argument from the older woman. “I won’t give up until you’re safe. I don't care how long it takes, where he is, what I have to do; I’ll find him — I swear to you. You deserve to be free of him, my love.” JJ says determinedly, an unfamiliar protective fire having been lit within her irises. “He’s gone. She’s gone. It’s just you now, Emily. All you have to be is my Emily.” The blonde whispers, cradling the brunette’s face. The younger woman seems to contemplate something, but before Emily can discern what exactly, JJ kisses her, and everything else melts away.
Her lips are soft and pliant when they meet the older woman’s, gentle in their pursuit of Emily’s reverent kiss. It catches the brunette a bit off guard, the tenderly consoling moment becoming something she’s not quite sure how to define. That fire within JJ, it's almost as if it begins to engulf Emily, too.
It’s fitting, really. The blonde had always had this inexplicable ability to reduce Emily to nothing else but who she is at her core; JJ’s love. That’s all she truly is, the brunette supposes; a tightly-woven ball of adoration and devotion for the woman whom she’d fallen for years ago — JJ.
Emily kisses back regardless of her inner methodicality, sinking into JJ’s touch. She lets her hands rise from where they’d balled themselves in the sheets in an attempt to ground herself, instead grasping the slivers of skin peeking out between JJ’s shorts and tank-top, holding the blonde’s hips with every ounce of devotion she possesses.
JJ, slowly beginning to lose herself to her own lust, rolls her hips into Emily’s. The brunette senses it, and subsequently begins to guide the motion, helping the blonde seek her own pleasure. The younger woman must remember herself eventually, pulling back from Emily’s eager lips, panting.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” She lets her sentence die in her throat when she sees the look on the older woman’s face, that same aforementioned fire surely reflected in her own eyes. Seas of ocean blue meet pools of honeyed brown, and both women fight the urge to get lost in the depths of each other’s souls.
“Why don’t we just… lay down?” The blonde suggests, sinking back into the soft sheets. Under normal circumstances, JJ would be more than eager to be physically intimate with Emily. Right now, though, the brunette is in a fragile state. Dr Harris, the therapist hired by Interpol to handle Emily's case, had just recently advised them to talk through the brunette’s trauma whenever it comes up, rather than avoiding it with sex or other temporary distraction.
Emily wishes this wasn’t the case, her desire-induced haze making it hard to focus on anything else, but realistically, she knows JJ is probably right. Trauma, as her therapist had explained it, is a bit like a boulder barreling down a hill. Ignoring its imminent impact only delays the inevitable, pushing it up higher up the hill, causing its descent to become that much steeper. Instead, if you face it head on, the boulder is reduced, chipped away at, over time. Until, eventually, it’s a sizable rock. Surely still formidable, though not nearly as deadly.
And so, Emily follows her willingly, laying back against the sheets. She happily lets JJ tuck her head into the space between her shoulder and neck, the blonde breathing in her scent; cedar, gunpowder, and a hint of the cigarette smoke that inevitably clings to her.
JJ — having decided that although sex may temporarily be off the table, affection in its entirety is not — places kisses to every bit of skin she can reach in their position. She tries to get Emily to understand that here; she is loved, not owned. She is no longer a trophy to be shown off, but an equal that is adored for everything she is, and everything that she has been.
“I love you; no matter what.” The younger woman lets her arm snake around Emily’s waist, pulling herself further into the brunette. JJ’s body melds into the other woman’s side, their skin against each other’s feeling so intrinsically, irrevocably right. “You’re out, you made it out. It's over — I promise.” JJ tells her, kissing the shell of Emily’s ear as she does so.
JJ’s reverence is one thing that she’s learned from Emily. The brunette loves so deeply — so fully and completely — and somehow the younger woman had adopted that same all-encompassing style of affection.
“I’m scared, JJ… I’m scared I’ll lose you to him.” The older woman admits it into the blackness of midnight, the only light streaming in from the window. The moon’s glow illuminates their picturesque bedroom in a faint white gleam. It’s beautiful, and it makes JJ’s honey-golden skin shine just barely under the dim light.
It’s here, in their tiny Parisian apartment, that Emily lets herself say it in her mind, for the first time since her near-death experience. For so long, it was a reminder that the hauntingly delicate, lighthearted, and most importantly, fictitious character she’d played to perfection was gone. This time, it’s not a reminder, nor a mantra, but a relief.
Lauren Reynolds is dead.
“I know. I know, baby, but that won’t happen.” JJ promises, unaware of Emily’s inner thoughts as they form tendrils that wrap themselves around her, twining endlessly in the deepest recesses of her mind. JJ sits up, throwing one of her legs over Emily’s hips so she’s straddling the brunette. The younger woman leans down, resting her forehead against Emily’s, closing her eyes before speaking to her lover. “I’m right here, I’m not leaving.” She says, craning down to kiss Emily’s forehead. “It’s you and me — forever.” JJ speaks the words through paced breaths, and it’s so tender that it makes the older woman want to cry. “Nothing will ever change that.”
As touched as Emily is, it’s not enough. She fears nothing ever will be. His touch still remains a permanently etched sensation under her skin, refusing to be forgotten, even now. The brunette doesn’t know what she needs; how could she? All of this turmoil and trepidation is just too much to bear alone, she supposes.
“I need to feel like this is real.” Emily says, her voice cracking with witheld tears, even now that her cheeks have dried, the streaks of leftover mascara having faded under JJ’s gentle fingertips. “I need to feel connected to you.” She finishes as the blonde sits back up, an apprehensive look on her face.
“We aren’t supposed to have…” JJ trails off when she sees the desperation in the older woman’s eyes. The expression is uncharacteristically forlorn upon Emily’s features, and it worries the blonde more than it should. Regardless of her concern, she doesn’t want to push, she knows this is delicate. “Tell me what you want.”
Emily slowly lets out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding onto. She inhales one more and abandons that one as well, steadying herself before speaking. “I want to make you come, and I want to hear you say my name — not hers — when you do.” The older woman’s eyes darken almost imperceptibly as she says it.
JJ lets her eyes fall closed at Emily’s words, allowing the image of the brunette’s description to wash over her and invade her imagination. “Okay.” JJ responds, opening her eyes. Their gazes lock when she does so, blue orbs meeting brown. “How do you want me?” She asks, her voice lower than it has been all night.
Emily seems to consider the question, eventually settling on a response. “On your back, I need to see you.” She says, watching as JJ nods, a small smile accompanying the movement. The blonde rolls off of where she perches upon Emily’s hips to instead lay next to the brunette. She lets herself melt into the sheets, their chillingly inviting allure somehow making it that much easier.
Emily moves in the next moment, coming to hover over JJ, their faces mere inches apart. The reverence of a thousand worshiping wisemen appears within her brown eyes, and the younger woman smiles when she sees it. “Kiss me.” The blonde demands.
Emily obeys immediately, connecting their lips. Whenever she is granted the pleasure of kissing this woman, it’s as if everything else in the world goes dormant. When she comes up for air, every sunbeam is brighter, every laugh is louder, and every smile is wider. JJ has this inexplicable ability to transform Emily into a preacher of something she’d once sworn to endlessly despise; optimism.
JJ feels it too; that brightness. It surges within her at every brush of fingertips, every glance shared across the room, every kiss. Somehow, Emily gives her hope. Such a strong woman, who’s been forced into enduring the utterly unthinkable, only to come out the other side better… if she is still this light, how could evil — how could darkness — ever prevail?
JJ, overcome by a wave of admiration for the woman whose lips press against hers, smiles unabashedly into the kiss. She runs her hands through the brunette’s long tresses, feeling the tendrils separate in the wake of her fingertips. She settles at a spot upon the back of Emily’s head, tugging slightly, experimentally.
The older woman makes a small, almost inaudible sound as she pulls away. The moan is let out in pleasure, sounding like music to JJ’s ears. “I like that, the hair thing.” Emily admits, a faint pink blush tinting her cheeks.
“Yeah?” JJ smiles, resuming her earlier ministrations, twirling the strands of black hair around her index finger.
“Yeah, I…” Emily breaks eye contact momentarily; seems to ready herself before reconnecting it. “They had me change my hair; it was light brown instead of black.” She says quietly, whispered into the space between their faces, so only JJ will hear it. It’s the first knowledge the blonde has received about Emily’s feelings about her time undercover. Before now, she’d only ever given her the facts, leaving her emotions out of her recounted stories.
“They let me keep the bangs, but they made me grow them out so they were longer.” Emily explains. She pauses, gathering the courage to continue. The blonde can see the pain on her face, clear as day. It’s hard to see her lover like this; so vulnerable, and yet in JJ’s eyes, stronger than ever. “You… pulling my hair… It reminds me that it’s mine again.” Emily says, the statement evoking such emotion within her. JJ just nods, smiling softly.
“Light brown, huh?” She smiles, continuing to twist the black strands between her fingers. “I can’t see it.” She says, her smile gleaming a little brighter. Emily laughs, rolling her eyes fondly as she leans down to kiss her again.
It’s almost unfathomable how happy JJ makes her. She’s never felt more loved, more cherished, more appreciated. She hopes JJ feels that way, too. All she wants — all she’s ever wanted since they had first met, really — is for JJ to be happy. If Emily is even a small contributor to that happiness, well then, that’s all she needs.
Their kiss grows more heated, panting breaths exchanged in the almost nonexistent space between their faces. The blonde’s hands detangle themselves from Emily’s hair, instead moving to lift the brunette’s shirt over her head. The older woman pulls back from the kiss, stopping her. “Can we… Is it okay if I leave my shirt on?” She asks, a bit sheepishly.
“Of course, but I wanna know why.” JJ says, cupping Emily’s cheek as the brunette’s bashfulness increases incrementally. “Dr Harris said it’s good to talk through things out loud, that it makes the thoughts less scary, remember?” The blonde reminds her of the therapist’s words from a few days ago. Truthfully, Emily had initially been opposed to it — therapy in its entirety, that is — but she’d eventually come around to the idea, with the help of vehement encouragement from JJ. Since then, Dr Harris has helped her immensely.
The brunette nods, trying to think of the right words. “Well, when I was… her…” She begins, although slowly. JJ knows it’s hard to hear the name — Lauren —so she doesn’t push it. “I wore completely different clothes. He decided everything. How I dressed, where I went, what I ate; everything. At his behest, it was all beige sweaters and soft fabrics; I hated it.” Emily finishes her elucidation, smiling slightly when she glances down at the t-shirt she’s currently donning. “Wearing a stupid Evanescence shirt that I’ve had since high school while we’re… It — It makes me feel like me.” She admits.
JJ smiles in response, neglecting to give a verbal answer. Then they’re kissing once more, and the blonde can’t help but allow her thoughts to flow. It’s hard to picture, truly. She can’t imagine Emily dressing any differently than she does now. The dark colors, sharp lines, and masculine silhouettes; it all looks beautiful on her, and she wouldn’t change a single thing. Imagining her girlfriend with light brown hair in pastel colored clothing just feels… wrong, somehow.
Emily runs one of her hands across the expansive skin of JJ’s abdomen, tracing nonsensical patterns along the exposed skin. The blonde sleeps in lacy bralettes and sweatpants, in which she always looks effortlessly beautiful. Emily, on the other hand, dresses in soft, oversized graphic t-shirts that she’d never wear in any other context, paired with tight boxers. The contrast of their sleepwear is so immense that it just fits. The brunette does sleep with her socks on; an affinity that JJ finds to be practically criminal.
Still, their aesthetics and styles have always been so different, but somehow that’s what makes them melt together so perfectly. The blonde can’t help but call to mind their first date at that exuberantly fancy Italian restaurant in Georgetown, where Emily had insisted on spoiling her. JJ had worn a cobalt-blue slip dress that the brunette had gifted to her for the occasion. Emily had gone all out; wearing a stunning black-on-black suit, her tie having matched the color of JJ’s dress. The date had been perfect; ending with a goodnight kiss at the blonde’s apartment door, which had inevitably led to their first night together.
Now though, Emily’s hand plays with the drawstring of JJ’s simple black sweats. She teases her fingertips against the elastic, never fully dipping beneath the barrier of fabric. The younger woman is just about to start begging when Emily’s fingers finally foray below the waistband, continuing their trek beneath JJ’s panties, beginning to glide through the wetness at the blonde’s center.
“Someone’s excited.” Emily remarks, smirking. JJ just sighs contentedly when one of the brunette’s fingers drags purposefully up to her clit, barely grazing the bundle of nerves.
“Stop teasing me.” JJ demands, though it’s laced with desperation. Her voice is breathy, eyes fluttering between open and closed; she’s having quite a hard time keeping them open, the urge to surrender completely almost overwhelming in its intensity.
The brunette chuckles, her smirk just as apparent as ever, eyes sparkling in the sparse moonlight. “I wanna savor this.” She says, her gaze devotedly tracing the lines of JJ’s face. “There was a time when sex meant something completely different to me…” Emily begins, wincing imperceptibly. “It was something I had to endure, not enjoy.” The brunette’s voice is strained, emotion threatening to take over even as she continues her ministrations upon JJ’s clit. “I wanna take my time with the woman I love.” She smiles finally, placing a kiss to JJ’s lips, the expression refusing to fade even as their lips meet.
“I — I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to —” The blonde hastily begins to apologize, feeling almost guilty that she’d caused this wave of emotion to crest within Emily, but the older woman cuts her off before she can get any further.
“It's okay.” Emily promises, smiling genuinely when she sees JJ’s concern. “It’s a part of my past, and I’m learning that… I don’t have to be ashamed of it.” She blinks, a tear having threatened to fall without her permission.
“I’m so proud of you, of all the progress you’ve made.” JJ says, cupping the brunette’s face in her hands. She lets herself attempt to memorize every detail of Emily’s features; her angular nose, the cut of her jawline, the deeply set brown irises that complete it all. “You’ve worked so hard, Emily. You’ve survived so much, and you’ve used it to make yourself stronger — better. I know that everything is still fresh, and it’s terrifying, and it’s scary, but you made it.” JJ says, the bewilderment in her voice laced with pride. “Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve overcome…” JJ pauses, admiring the blush on Emily’s cheeks. The brunette never could accept a compliment. “I just want you to know that I see it — I see you.” JJ smiles brightly, pulling the other woman down to kiss her.
It’s devoid of their previous hunger, instead their lips brush gently while JJ cradles the brunette’s face in her hands. Emily’s fingers are still teasing the younger woman’s entrance, and JJ finds restraint slipping further and further away as their kiss goes on.
When Emily’s thumb passes over the blonde’s clit with the perfect amount of pressure, JJ gasps, effectively parting their lips. She attempts to calm herself down, unsure of whether or not the brunette wants to continue, but then Emily begins speaking.
“Say that again.” The older woman says, her voice gravely and laced with desire. Maybe Emily does want to continue, after all.
Regardless, JJ can’t quite discern what exactly she’d been referring to, and so she asks. “Say what?” JJ says. She’s surprised at her own voice’s tone, breathy and light. It’s then that she realizes she’s still panting, Emily’s fingers continuing to tease her core.
“Say my name.” The brunette clarifies, smirking slightly. Something about her low voice within this context is downright dizzying to JJ, and so, she obeys.
“Emily.” JJ breathes out. Her eyes flutter closed involuntarily when the other woman finally, finally, stops teasing her, beginning to rub the blonde’s clit in slow circles.
The older woman groans when JJ sighs in pleasure, satisfaction washing over her as she watches the blonde. “I love the way you say my name. Have I ever told you that?” Emily asks rhetorically, well aware that she won’t be getting a response; JJ is far too deep in the pleasure-induced haze that the brunette is currently inflicting upon her. “Em-uh-lee. It sounds so pretty when you say it.” She punctuates her statement with a particularly purposeful stroke on the blonde’s clit, causing the younger woman to gasp once again.
“Please…” JJ sighs out the plea, her eyes still closed. Getting to surrender like this, letting herself be nowhere but in this moment with Emily, is somehow so freeing. Sometimes, the blonde can’t believe how lucky she’d gotten, to get to spend her days with the love of her life by her side.
“What do you want, baby?” Emily asks, hovering over JJ as she watches the younger woman writhe atop the sheets. The brunette wants to hear her say it, ask for it. After all, as much as JJ loves Emily’s voice, the affinity isn’t just one directional.
“Inside.” JJ begs, the words breathless as they fall from her lips. The blonde’s arms move to wrap around Emily’s neck, pulling her down so that more of her exposed skin can feel the brunette’s warmth. It gets so cold in their bedroom at night, and if she had to guess, she’d say it’s about two or three in the morning.
Emily just smiles, finally electing to give her lover exactly what she wants. The brunette teases her entrance for only a moment, and when she feels how wet JJ’s become, she slips a single finger into her. Emily lets her thumb begin to draw circles on her clit, the stimulation never ceasing as she works to bring JJ as much pleasure as possible.
The blonde whimpers slightly when she crooks her finger upwards, hitting that spot inside of her that makes the blonde see stars. It’s not enough, though; JJ needs more.
“Can you — fuck.” The younger woman loses her train of thought completely when Emily leans into her, beginning to place seemingly endless kisses at the junction between her neck and shoulder.
“Use your words. Ask for it, my love.” Emily whispers, her lips brushing the skin that hides her carotid artery from the open air. She feels the blonde’s pulse under her lips, racing away beneath the shield of her flesh.
“Can you use another finger?” JJ at last manages to get the words out, though they’re released through heavy breaths. Emily doesn’t respond verbally, instead pressing a second finger into JJ, seamlessly joining the first. The blonde whimpers when she feels the addition, her back arching slightly as Emily continues to place kisses on the skin between her neck and shoulder.
“You’re so good, baby.” The brunette praises, her fingers crooking upwards within JJ to press against that spot that drives the younger woman crazy. Emily’s lips rise higher to whisper into the blonde’s ear. “You’re always so good for me. You’re so perfect, my love.” She whispers to JJ, her voice gravely and laced with devotion. The younger woman preens under the flattery, her cheeks reddening slightly as she lets herself absorb Emily’s undivided attention.
The brunette places chaste kisses to her cheeks, admiring the faint pink color that resides there. “I love how you blush, it’s adorable.” Emily whispers. She kisses the blonde’s forehead next, inhaling the scent of JJ’s shampoo. “Your hair always smells so good, even when you’re all sweaty after a run. It’s coconut and strawberries, right?” She remarks, smiling in slight amusement when she realizes the younger woman is incapable of granting her a verbal answer.
Instead, JJ just nods absentmindedly, barely registering the question in her daze. “I wanna come. Please let me come.” She rushes the words out through her sighs, Emily’s fingers on her clit still driving her closer and closer to the edge.
Thr brunette redoubles her efforts, thrusting her fingers in and out faster, applying more pressure to her clit. She places a sound kiss on JJ’s lips, and the blonde barely has the mind to reciprocate before Emily pulls away, saying; “Go ahead, baby, but remember to say it when you do.” She demands, her fingers pressing against JJ’s g-spot one last time in an attempt to seal the blonde’s fate.
Permission granted, JJ falls over the edge, her eyes screwing shut even tighter, mouth falling open as rapid breaths make their way past her lips. An almost incoherent moan of ‘Emily’ reverberates around the bedroom. The brunette can’t help but smile when she hears it.
Emily doesn’t let up, her fingers still working even as the younger woman reaches her climax. In Emily’s opinion, her job isn’t done until JJ verbally asks her to stop. Until then, it’s her own personal mission to make the blonde come as many times as she can take.
“Em —” Comes JJ’s plea, her own whimpering cutting her off. She’s drowning within the sea of pleasure Emily is bringing her, wave after wave of sensation crashing overhead, making it nearly impossible to burst forth from below and attempt to speak. Regardless, JJ tries again. “Emily, I can’t —” She starts, though she doesn’t quite complete the thought.
“Yes, you can. You have a safeword for a reason, baby. Use it if you need to.” The brunette reminds her, watching JJ’s every expression with unwavering vigilance. Emily sees a lot of things on the blonde’s face; pleasure, lust, satisfaction. The moment she sees discomfort; that’s when she’ll stop. That moment has not yet arrived, though, and so, Emily continues.
“You can take it, my love. I know you can. Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?” The brunette asks, teasingly. She listens to JJ’s incoherent whimpers that leave her lips as the blonde nods vigorously, assuring Emily that she’ll take whatever the older woman has to give her.
“Y — Yes.” JJ says, shuddering when the older woman decides to add a third finger. “Fuck.” The blonde’s eyes shoot open when she feels it. Emily realizes how blown her pupils have become, nearly eclipsing the blue ring of her irises.
Nonetheless, the brunette chuckles, never ceasing her motions. “If you really want to show me how much of a good girl you can be, why don’t you come for me again, hm?” Emily smiles as she watches JJ’s eyes roll back into her head. The blonde’s walls flutter around her fingers, and she knows that the younger woman is coming.
“Fuck, Emily —” JJ cries out, her second orgasm washing over her abruptly. It feels as if all of her senses leave her, and all that’s left is the feeling of Emily’s breath against her cheek. Wave after wave of pleasure crests within her, crashing down upon her body in rapid succession. It's too much, too completely, and yet still, not enough.
The brunette slows her fingers incrementally, sensing that the blonde may have reached her limit. Then, JJ begins to speak through her heavy breathing, though she struggles to get the words out. “K — Kiss me, please.”
Emily doesn’t hesitate, quickly pressing her lips to JJ’s.
The kiss isn’t chaste, nor is it passionate. It’s somewhere in between; where Emily is exactly who she is, with no lingering remnants of the fictitious woman she was once forced to be. Where JJ loves her wholly, completely, without reservation, and where Emily loves her back in the same way.
It’s something neither of them can fully understand, nor can they define it, or describe it. Although truthfully, that describes their relationship in its entirety quite well. At one point Emily had felt as if the entire universe was working against them; the circumstances under which they’d fallen in love had been extreme; the chances of them ending up here, together, had been incredibly slim. Yet somehow, some way, that’s exactly how it had worked out. It’s hard to imagine things could have gone any other way.
The love they share is just that — love. No matter what happens, they’ll have each other, and both of them know it in their cores.
When they eventually break apart, their bedroom is just as quiet as it had been when they’d fallen asleep hours ago. The only sound is their shared breathing, reverberating in the space between their faces.
“I love you.” JJ speaks first, gracefully putting an end to the quiet atmosphere that had engulfed them. Her hands cradle the brunette’s cheeks, staring deeply into her dark brown eyes. Emily seems a bit dazed, almost as if lost in thought, and so the younger woman speaks again. “I love you, Emily Prentiss.” The blonde smiles, watching as the older woman slowly returns from her foray into the recesses of her own mind. “All of you.”
“I love you, too.” Emily returns the smile, resting their foreheads together gently. Her arms are placed either side of JJ’s head, holding her up as she hovers over the younger woman. “Forever.” She whispers.
“Forever.” JJ echoes. She feels the skin of the brunette’s cheeks beneath her thumbs, she feels where their skulls rest against each other’s. She feels how Emily’s heart reaches out into the barely-there space between their chests, as if calling out to her.
If there’s one thing either of them can be sure of, it’s that JJ will always, always answer that call.