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The sky had yet to be licked with a trace of dawn’s light, the only solace found in the caffeine that thrummed steadily through your veins, listless eyes flickering around in the silence. It was unusual for the team, though incomplete, to be so void of life, but Strauss and her dark magic had the ability to drain the fun out of any situation.
This time, Strauss had stooped to new lows, had marched into the morning briefing and blindsided half of you with firm instructions to abandon the case and attend a mandatory training session instead. Of course, the reaction she had understandably yielded had been less than favourable, though presented with no choice, you were forced into compliance.
Unshakable tension hung in the air, unnerving quiet persisting and breached only by the sound of the car engine in the background. Emily’s warmth bled into you, her body pressed snugly beside you, her hand lingering against your knee. Spending time with her appeared to be the only saving grace, every occasional stolen glance forcing the emergence of a smile upon your lips and one that even Strauss could not diminish.
But you knew that the moment would be short-lived, knew that the second Emily stepped into the training facility she would transform, the demeanour of a hardened agent soon to possess her. It was alluring to witness, her competitive streak free of its cage and only evoking an envy in you towards any unsub that was ever lucky enough to be subdued by her. You had imagined it countless times, desperate to feel the weight of her wrath, her gun trained on you, her voice purring in your ear. For now, the fantasy would have to suffice.
The vehicle ground to an abrupt halt, your devious daydreams hastily thrust to the outskirts of your mind. Morgan sighed audibly in agitation as he regarded the training facility with disdain, serving only as a reminder of a job left undone, the knowledge that cases were certain to be stacking in your absence. This sound roused Hotch into rotation as he twisted in the driver’s seat, his hands retracting from their prior state of uninterrupted white-knuckling around the steering wheel.
“I know that none of us want to be here,” Hotch acknowledged, flatly, his mirrored indignation unable to be hidden, “just follow instruction, stick to protocol and maybe we can get back in time to pick up the case, which I know is what we all want.”
“How the hell did the rest of the team get out of this one?” Morgan flared, his head shaking in avid disapproval, his jaw flexed, “Strauss has it in for the four of us, this is just another one of her games.”
A lengthened pause occurred as Hotch jostled to land on a diplomatic answer, though his agreement was glaringly obvious. He knew that this was merely another strategy to antagonise the team and place all of you under a microscope in the hopes that you would fail. Morgan had already let her sneak under his skin, falling victim to the effect she had been intent on provoking.
“Then let’s not give her any more ammunition,” Hotch nodded, his expression determined, intense.
“What’s the first scenario?” You probed, curiously, the lewd thoughts you had stowed away earlier suddenly sparking back into existence, entranced by the vision of Emily in her bulletproof vest, wondering how it would feel to have it slammed against you.
Morgan unravelled the little brochure that Strauss had kindly provided earlier, his eyes scanning the first page, a scoff of bemusement emitting. “Hostage negotiation.”
The revelation elicited a burst of excitement inside of you, a sense of renewed purpose holding you in its grasp as you conjured a menacing plan. Emily noted the shift, suspicion quick to cloud her as she narrowed her eyes.
“I could be the unsub,” you suggested, coolly, a dismissive shrug following suit for good measure, the deranged delight threatening to hack through and expose your true motive.
And manipulating a profiler was your first mistake, Emily's irises swirling with something newfound, an unmistakable glint that soundlessly informed you that she had suspected your underhandedness. You had expected her to dissuade you, to foil your plan for her own satisfaction and yet, she remained quiet, collected, a sweet simper fused to her lips.
"You sure you can handle that?" She retorted, the soft lilt in her voice only inflaming the thoughts that plagued your brain.
Emily knew exactly what she was doing, but you also had an ace to play.
"Come on, Prentiss," you appealed, vehemently, your lips inching closer until your breath fizzled against her ear, the proximities deliberate enough that a marked whisper had the potential to go unheard by the others. "I have no problem overpowering you in the sack, baby, why don't you give me a challenge for once?"
A musing scoff emanated from her, eyes darkening to a shade unfathomable, her expression hastily correcting itself, self-control successfully slashed by the daring nature of your words. Bite marks imprinted themselves into the full flesh of her lips, her gaze averted as she threw a nod of confirmation towards Hotch.
"Let her do it, Hotch," Emily echoed, feigning supportiveness, though the hand upon your knee mutated its caressing touch to something more ominous, squeezing with vigour, with warning. "She's desperate for it."
"Give the girl a chance, Hotch," Morgan chimed in.
Hotch ruminated on the idea, the chasms of his frown lines deepening in his state of thought, his face unreadable until it melted into certainty.
"It's settled then," he affirmed. "Emily will negotiate. Morgan, you and I will serve as backup. Let's get into position."
Anxiety rattled as you awaited the inevitable onslaught, an agent from another unit knelt before you, posed as the hostage, your gun nudging into the back of his skull. You should have been fearful of failing given the high stakes involved, Strauss gunning to disband the BAU and strip you of your jobs, but you were enthralled by the unfolding situation. Your heart thudded, so ferociously that your ribcage seemed to bounce visibly with every pulsation, a familiar tingling sensation between your legs as you prepared to face the crowd of agents. But you only cared about one of them.
And when the battering footfalls flooded, you stared out into the sea of unfamiliar faces until you identified the one that educed goosebumps, libido splintering. Emily gripped her gun forcefully, her aim never straying as she followed your every movement with it, her callous demeanour only furthering the thrill that racked through you.
"FBI! Put the weapon down!" Emily bellowed, unequivocal in her demand. "Nice and slowly, let me see your hands."
"Listen to her," Morgan encouraged, his voice gentler, coaxing. "She's trying to help you but you need to let this man go, okay?"
The words did not register, unable to pry your lustful gaze from the woman before you, her steps painstakingly slow as they grew nearer, cautious in her approach. You almost considered surrendering, too engrossed by Emily for logic or reason to occur to you, every thought placing her at the singularity. And God, you wanted her, wanted to bow out of this exercise and feel her flush against you, inside of you, all over you.
"Don't come any closer," you demanded, unfaltering on your designated target as you repositioned the handgun against the hostage's temple this time, the threat coercing Emily into a slight retreat. "I'll shoot, do you hear me? I will shoot him."
Emily swallowed hard, a fleck of annoyance passing over her eyes in the realisation that she would have to resort to faux appeasement. As expected, she safely holstered her weapon, her teeth gritted almost undetectably in response to her state of powerlessness, having assumed that a feat like this would have been effortless. She had underestimated you.
"I have put away my gun," she reiterated, her hands raised to the skies, her fate undecided, at your mercy. "I won't hurt you, but I'm gonna need you to let him go first, okay? Nobody needs to get hurt."
Compelled to heed her, the uncompromising cinch upon your gun devolved into a state of wavering, the compulsion to submit to her almost too staggering to ignore. It was only when you noticed her form closing in that you had realised how convincing she had been, how she had managed to render you bewitched without being consciously aware of it. You had forgotten the existence of protocol, the purpose of your task sliding away until it no longer mattered to you or at all. And then, your gun clattered to the ground beneath, the hostage fleeing into the arms of Morgan who awaited him.
Under the guise that the exercise had been concluded, your eyes travelled to land on Emily, met instead by the whirring of flashing throws and punches. The pain had not yet materialised, too bewildered to arrive upon a single emotion nor feeling until your neck found itself encircled, besieged by a wrecking force.
The surge of cold against your back signified that you had been successfully wrangled to the ground, a striking white smile peering down at you from above. A sensation of weightlessness washed over you, the hands around your neck only willing you further to places unknown, places that you had not yet explored, your vision clouded in white-hot.
"More," you rasped, your thoughts so exquisitely confused, so nonsensical that you were convinced that the voice belonged not to you, but to someone far in the distance. "Daddy."
"Come on, Prentiss," Morgan's voice pierced your brain, half-startling you as you thudded back into reality and reacquainted yourself with your surroundings. "Now that's just overkill."
The pressure released itself and subsequently filled you with disappointment, Emily clambering from you with a sickening smile.
"Really?" She questioned, blatant amusement sported upon her features, the sound of footsteps retreating as the training room gradually emptied. "Begging me to choke you in front of all of those agents, hm?"
A pitiful whine was all that you could gather, any further response thwarted by the sound of Hotch's voice as he peeped his head around the doorway.
"Take twenty," he spoke, his voice echoing out into the newfound hollowness of the space, you and Emily now the only remaining inhabitants. "Target practice is next on the agenda. We'll regroup at the range."
Emily nodded in agreement before scanning the room to assure that you were alone, panic percolating inside of you until it brimmed. You had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, left vulnerable in the desolation.
"A lot can happen in twenty minutes, pretty girl," she hummed, her mouth still corrupted by that same, sinful smirk. "I could help you out," she considered, a finger pressed to her lips, as if she was waiting to be convinced. "The question is, are you going to be quiet if I do?"
Instantly, you sucked in a breath, careful as not to solidify an unfavourable decision, the remnants of a whimper swallowed away.
"I'll be quiet, Daddy," you acceded, fighting avidly to veil your growing desperation.
The surrounding scene blurred the second the words had been uttered, the cool flooring against your back replaced by the feeling of a rugged wall. Your vision vacillated between clarity and murk, unable to shake the residual feeling of light-headedness from earlier. Two hands fisted into your vest, her strength pinning you in place as you battled to meet her gaze.
And when you did, you weakened into a state of undivided pliability. You were hers to take, she knew that.
"So fucking typical of you, isn't it, angel?" She taunted, a low chuckle expelling from her, two fingers teasing a downward stripe over your larynx and eliciting a subconscious shudder. "You just can't seem to control yourself around me, can you?"
Refuting her was a lost cause, your hunger so visceral, so blatant that you would do anything to persuade her into quelling it.
"No, I can't," you admitted, breathlessly, your focus fixed upon those trailing fingers, praying for the revival of that same crushing pressure, praying to a god that you didn't believe in if it meant you could relive that feeling of ascension. "I want you, Daddy. I need you."
Flames roared in her eyes, a searing heat radiating from her despite the heavy obstruction of clothing, her hand spreading to reprise its role around your throat. This time, the force was purposely unsatisfying, light as you sprung forward in search of more.
"You want me to choke you, baby?" She asked, almost innocently, her tongue curling against the corner of her mouth in unbridled amusement. "You want me to make you beg for air, hm? Make you forget how to breathe?"
The second you opened your mouth to formulate a response, a harshened grip unleashed itself, the sounds you had vowed to conceal blurting out into the silence.
"That's it, whine like a whore," Emily crooned, mockingly, her teeth grazing your earlobe, the vibration of her words causing shockwaves to ricochet, "you're just loving this aren't you, angel?"
Every drop of moisture drained from your mouth, your jaw slack as you struggled to will in a trace of oxygen. Emily merely smirked as you flailed in her grasp, her face dangerously close as she basked in your strife. For a fleeting moment, she released you and you exploited this scintilla of freedom to calm your burning lungs, your breath erratic, audible.
But the pressure did not let up for long, merely re-emerging in lower territories, her free hand smoothing over your pussy and inducing a loudened moan.
"Fuck."
With time stacked against you, Emily could not afford to subject you to the prolonged suffering that she loved so much, the pads of her fingers soon pressed to your folds. A menacing grin tugged at her lips, her cheeks swelling as she noted the sheer abundance of arousal. A stifled grunt exuded from her, your eyes flickering to acknowledge that she appeared to be as voracious as you were, undeniably pleased to find you drenched, delighted to be the cause of it.
"Filthy girl can't stop herself from getting wet," she growled, "so pathetic, baby."
"Daddy, please," you begged, twisting your neck against her palm in a helpless bid to coax her into compliance, "Squeeze harder."
And Emily delivered, your expectations surpassed as your eyes widened in shock, the bones in your neck appearing to rearrange from the brutality of her grasp. It was heaven and hell combined, the torturous motion of her fingers toying with your clit causing reality to elude you in its entirety. Pleasure burrowed into every pore, lungs burning for alleviation as you dragged in tiny, futile bursts of oxygen, eyes flickering as your mind soared, detached from you.
"And you thought you could overpower me?" Emily huffed out in irony, three ruthless digits shoving their way inside of you and prying your eyes wide. "Not very smart are you, princess," she gibed, her nimble fingers curling deliberately without warning, "you only think about getting fucked, huh? Mindless little thing."
The rigorousness of her action had you elevating to your tiptoes, frantic to encourage her into a deeper invasion of you. This thoughtless bliss was where you prayed to remain, to live out your days, with Emily intruding every part of you. You were positively addicted, relinquishing all control to her ministrations, a smile pinned to her lips as she denied you of breath and regifted it at her own accord.
The sound of punishing fingers wading through your arousal engulfed the quiet, joined by the shameless squeals that fled from you. The consequences of your volume would surely be rectified later, and would probably exist in the shape of Emily's hand spanking you red, raw. You didn't care, didn't have the energy inside of you to put up much of a fight now, your self-control reduced to tatters with no sign of reassembling just yet.
"Close, Daddy," you mumbled, your voice stifled, trembling. "Please."
A cloudy fuzz filled your eyes, Emily's silhouette eclipsed as you succumbed to the dizziness that lapped at you. The ceaseless pounding of her fingers kept you on the cusp of alertness, each swipe of your clit rousing your conscious mind into waking.
"Cum for Daddy," Emily cooed, her lips etching flitting kisses into your cheek, her grip on your throat loosening ever so slightly. "Good girl, cum for me, princess."
And as your climax swept you up, her hand retracted from your throat to muffle the screams that spilled, unchecked, fading against her palm as you floated away. You didn't want to return, lost amongst the stars that sparkled in your vision, shooting around until they gradually ebbed away. Emily withdrew first, suckling ardently on the arousal that covered her digits, triumph fulgurating in her orbs.
"Ready for target practice?" She questioned, cockily, studying your disheveled state with an unrivalled satisfaction. "You know, you can always sit this one out if you're not in the right... state of mind."
"Oh, I'm ready, Prentiss," you retaliated, determination falling to mask your state of disarray as you readjusted your clothing with a cunning smirk. "I just can't wait to watch you lose to me twice."
Emily paused, dumbfounded as you barged her out of the way, your shoulder purposely colliding with her. An audible scoff escaped her, frenzied footsteps soon to follow behind you.
"Okay, now you're really in trouble."