Jax: Creator of Paper Memories (elekanahmen) wrote in _imitatinglife,
Jax: Creator of Paper Memories

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JJ/Emily // Fic // Revenge is a Dish Best Served Hot

Title: Revenge is a Dish Best Served hot
Author: elekanahmen aka Jax
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Pairing: JJ/Emily
Disclaimer- I don't own them, as they're clearly NOT chained up in my closet
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Excessive abuse of the word fuck, body shots, frottage ;), smut
Summary: Emily plans revenge when her mother sets her up on a date with her secretary's son.
Note: Fic #1 in the "All Your Bunnies Are Belong To ME" Challenge, aka the "I'm bored, give me a prompt" challenge on my lj. xiotonks I hope this makes up for the depression I've set you into. gilligankane, maekala, tranqui -- thank you three for being my research bitches.
Prompt: Emily's first gay bar, NC-17, Smut

The week had been less than stellar. And by less than stellar, she meant awful, really. She had been held by an unsub with her own gun pressed against her temple. That was good for two weeks with the department shrink. Within two days, she’d gotten plowed into by an asshole that ran a red light and wrecked her nearly new Lexus and was forced to carpool with Garcia or JJ to work. And to top it all off, The Ambassador was trying to set her up with Gabriel, her secretary’s son. Emily Prentiss was doing something unprecedented: she was losing her cool.

She burst into Garcia’s office, slamming the door behind her, sliding against it until she was in a very un-dignified, very un-Emily Prentiss lump on the floor against it. Garcia wasn’t phased by that, she’d seen the brunette storming down the hallway before bursting in. What raised her eyebrow was the look of complete and utter defeat on the agent’s face. It wasn’t something she associated with Emily Prentiss, compartmentalizer extraordinaire. With a few keystrokes she cleared her screens of everything but the closed circuit feeds she was obligated to survey. She swiveled in her chair, crossing her legs, fingers poised delicately on her knees, fuzzy pink pen balanced under her index finger. “The doctor is in.”

Emily slammed her head back against the door and Garcia wondered for a moment if that was good considering the amount of other physical and mental traumas she’d been through that week. With a deep, angry sigh, Emily finally snarled back her lips, words hurling out like so many knives, “Who the fuck does she think she is?”

“I might know everything, but even I can’t decipher something that vague, Em. She who?”

“My fucking mother. Ambassador fucking Elizabeth fucking Prentiss.”

“And what, exactly, has she done to deserve this colorful shower of adjectives?”

“She calls me today. I’ve been in and out of the hospital twice and treated for any number of injuries. What’s the first thing out of her mouth? Not ‘Emily, darling, how are you, I’ve been so worried!’ No, it’s ‘Emily, darling, it’s been months since you’ve been out on a date, so I’ve taken the liberty of setting you up with my secretary’s son Gabriel.’” Emily’s hands were clenched so tightly that the bone pressing against her skin gave white-knuckled a whole new sense of meaning.

“Okay so she’s been insensitive… has she always coped with trauma by diving headfirst into little missions of mercy?” Penelope leaned forward a bit, trying to read Emily’s face for a hint of any other emotion.

“Garcia, I told my mother that I’m a lesbian seventeen years ago. And yet she still tries to set me up with her colleagues son like the words never came out. Literally,” she snorted at the realization of her words’ irony. “She’d rather make me squirm through a date with some over-greased, over-perfumed preening peacock so that everyone would see her daughter out with a respectable man than consider for half a second how much it pisses me off. It’s all about her and her fucking reputation.”

Garcia leaned back into her chair, a slight smile curling at her lips, “Well that answers one question. I just won fifty bucks.”

Emily stared up at her incredulously. Was this some kind of joke? “Excuse me, Garcia?”

“You’re gay. I knew it! Morgan owes me fifty bucks. He said a stone cold fox like you couldn’t possibly be a dyke. Baby, lets face it, your mom’s a stick in the mud republican bureaucrat. Of course she’s going to be insensitive about your sexuality. So why don’t you and I go for a night out on the town and pick you up a fine lady and you bring her to your mom’s next ‘function,’” she emphasized with airquotes, “get your revenge and get yourself a little ass while you’re at it?”

The little dimple in Emily’s right cheek appeared slowly as the grin spread across her face. “Penelope Garcia, you’re a genius.”

“Baby, tell me something I don’t know.”

Emily stood up slowly, hugging Garcia tightly. “Thanks, Penelope.”

“You’re welcome, Em. I’ll drive you home tonight and we can figure out what you’re gonna wear to score the woman of your dreams tonight.” Garcia pointed the fluffy, bobbling end of her pen at Emily. “You are going to knock them dead and quite possibly do the same to your mother in a much less pleasant way.”

Emily stared into the mirror. Garcia had transformed her in a matter of minutes. Picking out low-slung jeans that she didn’t even remember owning and a low cut tank top that she’d worn once before deciding that the leering glances it earned her were more than she bargained for. She looked… hot. Garcia’s fingers tapped on the marble counter-top in her bathroom, her eyes fixed on the bandage around her left bicep. Her head bobbed left and right, as if listening carefully to the devil or angel on each shoulder, weighing the option of to keeping it or losing it. “Keep it. It gives you that dangerous, mysterious look without being overtly ‘Hey look at my stitches, I’m so tough and manly!’” She nodded again, clicking her tongue. “Alright, off to Lollipop, then.”

“Lollipop. Garcia, isn’t that a lesbian bar?”

“And you’re a lesbian. News flash, peaches, you aren’t the only dyke in the delicious deck of cards that are my friends.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“I have a feeling you’ll be meeting my favorite one tonight. And I just know you’ll love her.” Garcia smiled mysteriously, leading her back out to Esther, her beloved convertible. The drive was a quick one and when they pulled into the parking lot of the gaudy converted theatre with pink and purple neon lights swirling up the spire to the word “Lollipop”

Emily could feel a small knot in her stomach slowly growing. She climbed out of Esther, smiling as Garcia took her hand, nearly dragging her to the door. The night was still early, so the line was noticeably short, though the length of line did little to betray the packed dance floor inside. Blondes, brunettes and a sprinkling of every hair color of the rainbow bobbed and moved in time as lithe bodies pressed and ached against each other. The knot evolved into a swarm of butterflies fluttering low inside her toward the flickering flame that burned low and quiet deep inside her.

Garcia led her to the bar, ordering two red deaths—a drink, she promised in a shout over the crowd, that would make Emily forget who The Ambassador was. Emily lifted her glass to Garcia and took a long swig of it, the burn stinging the back of her throat and burning all the way down. She scanned the crowd, her eyes stopping to watch appreciatively as a blonde wearing a deliciously short miniskirt and a halter top that was held on only by the tie around her neck and a tie around her bust, every muscle of her back visible as she moved with the crowd, dancing with no one and for everyone. Emily’s eyes traveled over the muscles down to the two small dimples just above the waist of the denim and lace skirt, soft round hips disappearing into the skirt only to emerge as thighs a half a dozen inches later. Garcia grinned, following Emily’s gaze to the girl. “I knew she’d be here tonight.” She slipped from her stool, walking right into Emily’s personal show, setting her hands on the blonde’s hips, leaning over, whispering to her.

Emily was not expecting the familiar sparkle of sapphire eyes as the blonde whipped around, throwing her arms around Garcia’s neck. She wasn’t expecting Jennifer Jareau to be the blonde with the impossibly sexy back and the hips that had hypnotized her. The flame leapt into a blaze inside her as Emily sipped a little harder on the drink. The night had just gotten a lot more interesting. JJ’s eyes widened as she glanced over Garcia’s shoulder at Emily before turning back to the other blonde, her eyebrow cocked in disbelief. Garcia nodded and they eased through the crowd back to the bar. Stretching slowly, her top riding up a little to reveal the tan, muscled stomach that Emily had only imagined she had, JJ grinned. “Wasn’t expecting to see you two here tonight. Are you punishing her for something, Penelope, or did you just not feel like dealing with the sausage party at The Auld Dubliner?”

It was Garcia’s turn to raise an eyebrow, “Oh come on, JJ, like you two can’t smell your own kind.”

“Our own kind?” Emily’s tone was incredulous.

“You’re shitting me, Penelope.” JJ replied at the same time, trying to mask her own skepticism with sarcasm and failing. “So you won the bet with Morgan?”

Garcia grinned, holding up a crisp, green fifty-dollar bill. “Damn right.”

Emily’s mind was reeling. Was Garcia implying that—did JJ know that she was—what the hell was going on?

“Emily Prentiss,” JJ’s tone was more appraising than surprised, “so you are a lesbian. You know, I was on Morgan’s side of the bet… Thought there was no way someone as hot as you would bat for my team.”

The sudden intake of breath at the same time that she was sipping on the incredibly potent red death caused her to choke and splutter at JJ’s words. Struggling to regain her composure, Emily’s brow furrowed, her eyebrows knitted in a perplexed manner that neither of her colleagues had ever seen.

“What, you didn’t expect me to be gay either?” JJ smirked, shifting her weight so that her hips canted provocatively. “I think this calls for a celebration.” JJ turned on her heel—her very sexy, high heel, Emily noted—and disappeared around the back of the bar.

Garcia looked at Emily and grinned, “Told you you’d love my favorite lesbian here. You just didn’t know you already did.”

“Penelope!” Emily gaped at Garcia’s words.

“What, it’s true. I’m the source of all things known and unknown in the Bureau. And you, Emily Prentiss, are in love with Jennifer Jareau.” She smirked and wrapped her cherry red lips around the straw of her equally red drink and sipped it.

The bartender set down a bowl of large grain margarita salt next to Emily, appearing out of nowhere, setting a lime on a napkin down as well. She then grabbed Emily’s empty drink glass and JJ appeared behind her, a bottle of Patrón in her hand and a wicked grin on her face. She set the bottle with the salt and lime and with a swift motion from the bartender, JJ was kneeling on the bar in front of Emily. It suddenly felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room as she realized just what she was being set up for. JJ swung back so that she was sitting on the bar, her arms extended behind her as she laid back, propping herself up just so.

“JJ what…”

“Em-uh-lee.” JJ dragged out her name slowly, the slight slur in her voice betraying the shots she’d had before her coworkers had shown up. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done body shots before.”

Emily blinked slowly, not even sure if she still had a pulse, watching the bartender swipe the lime over JJ’s neck, sprinkling some of the salt over the slick streak. JJ shifted, tugging the hem of her top up to reveal her stomach, muscles taut from her unusual position. “Not to my recollection, no…” Emily couldn’t stop herself from continuing that thought in her mind, ‘but I know it involves your stomach and that tequila and I won’t say no.

JJ leaned her head back, taking the slice of lime between her lips as the bartender slowly poured a small puddle of the tequila into the little dip in JJ’s stomach, the liquor pooling perfectly on her golden skin. Emily’s eyes darted over to Garcia, who winked her approval, and back to JJ whose eyes were dark in a way Emily had never seen before, almost hungry. Taking a deep breath, Emily leaned forward, dragging her tongue up JJ’s neck, licking the salt from her soft skin before lowering her head, pressing her lips against her stomach, sucking the liquid up quickly. She tried to ignore the way JJ’s abdomen tensed at the touch or the visible shiver that shot up her as her tongue dipped against her belly button, searching for the last few drops of tequila. She raised her head, eyes meeting JJ’s as she leaned in to capture the lime from her lips, not noticing that at the last second the fruit slipped, or was pushed, from JJ’s lips and their mouths crushed against each other. They froze for a second before JJ lifted a hand, grasping the back of Emily’s head, tangling her fingers in the dark hair, moving her lips slowly against Emily’s, her tongue pressing against tequila soaked lips that quickly parted, and all JJ could taste was tequila and cherry and the slightest hint of vanilla.

When the kiss broke JJ’s hand was still tangled in Emily’s hair and her eyes were still dark and hungry. Emily was dumbfounded and for once in her life entirely unable to form a coherent thought other than the knowledge that her lips were on fire and there was something coiling deep inside of her, ready to pounce. Finally her mind cleared enough for her to gasp her name, “Jayj…”

A smile curled across JJ’s lips as she sat up slowly, suddenly aware that dozens of eyes were on them. “Care to dance?”

Emily’s head nodded, unbidden, and still in the dreamlike haze of the kiss, she suddenly found herself being led by the hand out on to the dance floor, familiar hands unfamiliar on her neck, her hands on hips she knew by sight but had never touched like this. Her fingers pressed against the hot skin just over her skirt possessively, pulling her impossibly closer, their bodies swaying, quickly picking up the pulsing beat of the music. Lips pressed against Emily’s ear, a tongue darting over her lobe and JJ whispered in a low, husky voice, “God, Emily… I’ve wanted you so badly…”

Emily shivered and slipped her thigh between JJ’s, lowering her lips to press against her earlobe through strands of golden hair. “I’ve wanted you too,” she purred, taking her lobe between her teeth, tugging gently, eliciting a soft moan from the younger woman. Emily swiftly lifted her thigh, pressing it tightly against JJ, her hands slipping under her skirt, her fingers pressing against the soft cotton panties, pressing her closer, biting her lip as JJ’s hips slowly started to grind against her, pressing her heat into Emily’s thigh.

No matter how fast the tempo, Emily’s min was giving the music a run for it’s money, thoughts swirling around in the sensation overload of JJ’s mouth, now on Emily’s neck, her hands, slipping under the hem of her tank top, their bodies moving effortlessly to the music, her own hands, one on JJ’s soft hip under her skirt, fingers drifting painfully close to the hem of her panties, the other wrapped around her smooth, taut, muscular thigh. She wastouchingher. Her mind strung together thoughts and words, unable to comprehend what was real, what her mind was imagining and what she wanted, until all thought stopped again. One hand slipped up into Emily’s hair, tangling in the curls that Garcia had placed just-so, pulling Emily closer, guiding her mouth to JJ’s and they enveloped into a hard, hot kiss that, not unlike their bodies, moved in time with the music.

Emily pulled away from JJ suddenly, her eyes still closed from the kiss. When she opened them, JJ had a look on her face that reminded Emily of the expression you’d expect of a child pulled prematurely from a toy store. Her eyes were wide and a little confused with just a touch of fear. Emily smiled and reached her hand forward, taking JJ’s gently, leading her back to the bar, hoping to find Garcia, instead only finding unfamiliar faces. She’d been set up. She turned to JJ, wrapping an arm around her, tracing her fingers up and down her bare back, “We’ve been ditched,” she murmured softly, leaning so that her mouth just brushed JJ’s cheek.

“Maybe we should go too… I can drive you home.”

Emily nodded and cupped JJ’s chin, lifting it for another soft, almost chaste kiss. “I’d like that.”

When they got back to Emily’s apartment, JJ hesitated, her fingers ghosting over the door handle, her blue eyes meeting brown across the front seat. Emily nodded and jerked her head toward the apartment building. “Come on.”

At the door, Emily fumbled for her keys, dropping them when JJ’s hands wrapped around her from behind, suddenly unable to accomplish the simple task of unlocking as lips once again found her neck. They barely managed to get into the foyer before JJ had not only closed the door, but also pinned Emily to it, kissing her hungrily, fingers working the button fly of her jeans. Emily pushed her hands away, lifting her by the hips, carrying her into the kitchen, sitting her on the counter. Her hands slipped up from JJ’s curving hips, up her waist and over her back, untying first the bow against her back and next the one around her neck, not even stopping to look at the skin she’d just revealed, kissing down her neck and over her collar bone, stopping to nip and suck at the skin, leaving behind a red mark just below the dip. As Emily was kissing her, JJ rocked back on her hips, one hand slipping down to tug her panties off, shimmying out of them, moaning softly as Emily kissed lower, her mouth wrapping around one of her nipples. She arched her back into the touch and gasped, “Em…”

Emily kissed her way over to JJ’s other nipple, taking it between her teeth, nipping and sucking at it. JJ whined softly, arching again into it, bracing herself on the marble counter. Releasing her nipple, Emily kissed lower and lower, her tongue tracing over her stomach, faintly tasting the tequila now mixed with sweat and a sweet, almost honey taste that she knew must be JJ. The lower Emily kissed, the more she tasted and as she kneeled on the floor, kissing JJ’s knee, not missing a single freckle goosebump as she moved her mouth closer and closer to the dark blonde curls, matted together with a slickness that caused her to blush, realizing that she was the reason they were damp. She tentatively darted out her tongue, pleased with the shudder that rocked through JJ as her tongue flicked over the hot, hard nub before kissing it gently, scraping her teeth over it. JJ’s hands tangled once again in the black curls of the older agent, pushing her closer, needing her to finish what she’d started. Emily ran her fingers gently up and down JJ’s thigh before slowly slipping two of her fingers into the hot, wet hole just below her lips. Crying out, JJ grasped the edge of the counter with one hand, her fingers tangling further into Emily’s hair as the fingers started working slowly inside of her, twisting, bending, beckoning inside her to press against the rough tangle of nerves just inside of her.

She whimpered and whined, the only words passing her lips “Fuck… Emily… God… yessss…” panted and gasped between moans and shuddering, strangled groans as Emily added a third finger, her teeth nipping at her clit. Emily moved her hand faster, the sounds coming from JJ pushing her to move that much faster, pump that much harder, twisting her fingers, bending them to press against every inch of her inside. She felt JJ coming, her body stiffening and her muscles clenching down around her hand before she heard the low, growling moan and her name cried out with the ferocity she’d only ever associated with a lioness on the attack. Even after JJ collapsed back against the counter, Emily moved her fingers slowly within her, letting her ride out every last wave of sensation before pulling her fingers out. JJ perched up on her arms, much like she had at the bar only much closer now to being naked, only her skirt bunched at her hips and her high heels still on, and watched as Emily sucked on her fingers, licking them clean. Emily’s eyes closed as the sweet and tangy taste filled her mouth, more intoxicating than the sixty-dollar tequila she’d tasted from the same body earlier that night.

As JJ sat up, the look in her eyes told Emily that this was only the start to a very long night and a very sexy adventure and she wondered, as the blonde stood from the counter, prowling over to her, her hands working to undress her, if the Ambassador would know what hit her the next night when Emily showed up to the soiree with JJ on her arm instead of Gabriel. Or what she would say about the dark angry bite mark on JJ’s collarbone. Or why she was even thinking about it when the girl of her dreams was pushing her into her bedroom.
Tags: challenge, criminal minds, jj/emily, smut, title: revenge is a dish best served hot

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