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Spencer doesn’t know what it is about the leather gloves.
Maybe it's the way Emily slides them on, a practiced grace that seems effortless. Maybe it’s the impersonality of them on his skin, the way they’re cold on his skin while Emily murmurs praise in his ear. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s Emily, that they’re cold and unknowable, but she’s not, she’s holding him close, her warm body against his back.
She’s fully clothed, usually. T-shirt and sweatpants but sometimes it’s her things from the office, a pair of slacks and a button-down, suit jacket tossed aside. The leather gloves come on, and a switch is flipped in Spencer’s mind.
He’s usually naked, leaning back on Emily’s chest, gloved hands rubbing down his sides, over his stomach and thighs, against his nipples and chest. She ignores his cock until the last moment, even when it stands leaking between Spencer’s legs, almost painful. Her lips press against his neck, kisses and words hidden in his skin. His head falls back and she kisses his collarbone.
Emily tells Spencer how good he’s been, how good he looks. Spencer watches impersonal hands and whines at the brush of knuckles against his balls and base of his cock. Emily’s breath is hot in his ear, calling him so eager, pressing a cool palm against his stomach, slowly warming with Spencer’s own skin. She gently pinches his nipples, brushes his lower lip and spreads his saliva on her thumb.
Emily takes Spencer by the thigh, hikes it upward so she can slide her hand down to his ass, she brushes against his perineum and asshole, trailing back to press his leg back to the mattress. She leaves invisible trails of herself, and Spencer can feel her there for days afterward, even if it’s only his imagination. Her hands are all over him even when they aren’t.
When Spencer’s finally begging for it, pleads gasped out between desperate noises, Emily seems to enjoy herself the most. She takes off the gloves and, despite his enjoyment with this game they play, he sighs relief in the feeling of warm, solid hands on his body. Emily takes the lube they’d set aside and slowly gets him off with her hand, telling Spencer how good he was, how patient he was.
Once he’s come, he’s eager to do whatever it is she wants her to do. Sometimes she just wants them to go to bed, sometimes Spencer eats her out or fingers her, sometimes she gets herself off and he watches, rests his head against her knee, eyes hazy and soft as he tracks the vibrator against her clit, her fingers pressing inside herself.
Spencer kisses Emily in the bathroom, she kisses him back, leaning against the counter and letting him loom over her like she doesn’t let anyone else. He rubs circles on her hips while she stands up on her toes to wrap arms around his neck.
“Good?” Emily sighs when they step into the shower, facing each other in the stream of hot water.
Spencer holds her face in both hands which are slowly being warmed by the steam and water. His eyes are still hazy, a little unfocussed. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Good.”