Danny Zuko 5: Sunbathing and...
Jul. 9th, 2010 07:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nike_ravusAuthor: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17 (around there)
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 1177
Citrus Taste Summer Battle Prompt #12. Sunbathing and Masturbation
Apologies: I’m going to attempt to post these in chronological order, but I may not always succeed. Either way, they should stand on their own pretty well. This is actually the first one I wrote for these prompts, aaaand it's starting to get dirtier.
“Oh Shit!”
Emma jerked at the exclamation, but didn’t remove her hand from between her legs. She just looked over and glared at Emily who had disturbed her masturbation session on the lawn chair in the bright morning sun.
“Come on, it’s not like you don’t do it.”
Emily shook her head, eyes wide, and glanced around. The platform was empty save for them. Maybe sunbathing wasn’t that popular that early in the morning, and few people had found this spot, but still… She eyed her consideringly. “Not outdoors.”
Emma grinned. “It’s better outdoors.”
Emily finished off her drink and glanced around. The sunbathing platform was on a roof and you could see the grounds of the hotel rather well. “What were you thinking about?”
Emma glanced around, and then jerked her head, pointing. “He’s a decent piece of meat.”
Emily followed her gaze to the pool boy, currently engaged in trimming the hedges around the pool. “Your brother seems to think so too.” Christian was hanging around him, clearly trying to work up the nerve to make conversation.
Emma cringed. “Great, thanks for spoiling it for me.”
Emily smiled, clearly pleased with herself and leaned against the wall. “What were you thinking about him doing?”
Emma blinked at her. “Are you drunk? It’s not even nine am.”
Emily flashed a dirty grin and held up her glass. “Yeah, but our parents had mimosas for breakfast, and when they left I finished them all.”
Emma snorted. “You’re going to have a problem some day, Miss Alco.”
“Shut up. I want to hear about your fantasy.”
Emma laughed, and stretched out in her lawn chair. “Well I was just lying here, being seductive-”
"Are you sure you weren't fantasizing about yourself?"
Emma flipped her off. “And I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them, he’s standing over me.”
Emily moved towards her, between her and the sun, casting a shadow over Emma’s body. “Like this?”
“Closer.”
Emily straddled her, kneeling on the chair. “Like this?” she asked, putting one hand alongside Emma’s head, the other on the armrest. Emma just looked at her, her eyes uncannily bright and blue under the shade of her hat. This wasn’t what she had expected from this, thought about maybe, but not expected. Still, she couldn’t say she minded. It was just Emily. Drunk and predatory or not, she would feel stupid being afraid of Emily.
“You’re in a mood today. But yeah.”
“Did he touch you?” Emily fingers moved to her hip, brushing it softly. Emma bit down on her lip to keep herself from making a sound and tipped her head back, baring her throat. Emily pressed a soft kiss to it, and then licked, dragging the flat of her tongue up her neck, her fingers curling into Emma’s hair, nails tracing lines in her scalp.
“Fuck, Emily. I like you when you’re drunk.”
Emily nosed at the cleavage of her bikini top and then bit at the tops of her breasts. Emma’s hips pushed up into her. “I like you when you’re a slut,” Emily hissed, and before Emma could shove her off to show how offended she was, fingers dipped between Emma’s legs, and she gasped.
“You suck,” she managed, and fisted the back of Emily’s shirt, holding on tightly. Her heels flailed, digging for purchase on the slick plastic weave of the chair, as Emily traced the tips of two fingers lightly up the crotch of her swimsuit. She wanted to push up into it, and finally her heels hit the bar and she did, but before she could get any pressure Emily snatched her hand away.
“Hold still.”
Emma hated the noise that came out of her throat in protest. She dug her nails into Emily’s back vindictively. Emily pulled back, grabbed her wrists and shoved them above her head. She only needed one hand to keep them there, no matter how Emma fought her. “Hold still,” she snapped.
Frustrated, Emma obeyed. She’d get her revenge later, but if Emily stood up and walked away now… “You’re so fucking mean to me when you’re drunk.”
Emily grinned at her submission. She tapped the tip of her nose and laughed when Emma tried to bite her. “I like a lot more when you can't speak. Spread your legs.”
She slid half off the chair so Emma could obey, and then crawled in between her knees. “I’m going to let your arms go. Hold the top of the chair.”
It was a painful twist to reach the top bar, and Emma’s arms ached in that position, but she really wanted to get off, and having Emily do it for her was almost vengeance. Emily sat back and looked at her, back arched, knees splayed open. That was humiliating. She might have been touching herself, but that piece of swimsuit hadn’t been that wet before Emily had climbed on top of her. It clung to her, hiding nearly nothing.
Emily didn’t take her eyes off of her, her expression intent but flat, as if she were analyzing her attractiveness and (impossibly) finding her wanting. Finally, still looking, and licking her lower lip just once, Emily ran her thumb up her crotch, locating and parting her folds, even through the cloth.
She kept stroking, gently increasing the pressure, going deeper into her, and Emma clung to the chair so tightly her knuckles were white and she bit her own tongue so she didn’t scream. And then Emily was using both hands, the tip of her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. The heel of her top hand ground into her clit while her fingers traced across the waist of the lower half of her suit. Her other hand was making butterfly quick forays into her, pressing against her, through the material, and Emma was so fucking close. And Emily’s head bent down and she pressed her mouth to the soft skin of her bare stomach and…
Blew a raspberry.
The chair flipped over. Emily scrambled to her feet, cracking up, and Emma was going to kill her. “You will die!”
She tried to get up, but her knees were only half working, and Emily was through the door before she managed it. But she chased her anyway, tailing Emily’s laughter through the halls and down the stairs, shouting threats when she had the breath for it.
They burst out by the pool. Christian and the pool boy turned to stare at them. Emily was cornered on the inward bend of the kidney shaped pool, and Emma launched herself at her. Emily tried to dodge, but was unsuccessful, and as one they crashed into the deep end.
The icy water was a very successful anti-aphrodisiac, and Emma surfaced, still angry, but no longer aroused. Emily sputtered to the surface, coughing.
“You suck,” Emma told her.
Emily grinned, catching onto the side of the pool and breathing again. She gave her an eyebrow flick and a look that burnt. “But I don’t swallow,” she said. And Emma laughed so much she nearly drowned.
Part 6
