Up until his partner picked her up at the airport four days ago, the last time they'd seen each other was two and a half years ago. Truth be told, the last time they'd actually enjoyed each other's company was closer to three years ago. They were happy then, working together during the day, and then coming home together at night. It was a miracle they didn't get sick of each other, though they might have, if it had lasted longer. But it didn't.
It was after they broke up during the negotiation at the kid's prison, and after they got back together after talking to that d-list celebrity couple. They'd left that day with a better understanding of why they were so angry with each other, and every intention of working things out. After two weeks, they were unsuccessful, and neither could figure out why. It just wasn't working, almost as if the break-up broke the mechanism that made them so compatible.
They couldn't agree on anything anymore, didn't understand each other like they had before. They were completely out of sync, and even the chemistry suffered. It began to get tiring constantly trying to work things out, constantly trying to be patient with each other. After two months they lost the energy to keep it up, and agreed to call it quits. This time they weren't angry though. They didn't have the heart to be angry with each other, rather they were hurt, and depressed.
The one thing that hadn't vanished, hadn't faded with everything else, was how they felt about each other. They hadn't stopped loving each other, and that made everything worse. After six months of the two listlessly trotting around the CNU, Emily was offered a transfer to Arizona. Their CNU was in sorry shape, and they needed people to help improve it. She took it, and they worked separately to rebuild themselves. Until four days ago.
Four days ago, Emily was called back to LA to assist with a guy she'd served a high risk warrant on. They'd gone to arrest him, and he'd barricaded himself in with his elderly neighbors. It had taken half and day, and a good piece of the night, but he'd given himself up. Two months later he pled to two counts of murder and sentenced to 30 to life.
Five days ago he broke out of prison, and they found him that morning, he was armed and had a hostage--a young mother grocery shopping.
Emily started as primary, and spoke to him a few hours, until he took a few shots at her. She wasn't hit, only a little spooked, and it turned out he blamed her for his incarceration. Matt took over, and managed to get the guy to give himself up by the early evening. The Bureau put Emily on a flight in the morning.
It seemed to have gone smoothly, very smoothly in fact, barring the bullets. They were in sync, and completely comfortable working with each other, at least after getting past the awkwardness. It was as if the two years apart had given whatever wounds the break-up inflicted time to heal. It was an especially sadistic twist of fate; after two years of trying to move on, they seemed to have gotten back what they thought they'd lost.
That's how they'd gotten to where they were now; namely, Matt's living room. They were sitting side by side, hands fidgeting nervously in their laps. All they wanted was one night. One night to be together again. To see if they still had it. To feel that feeling just one more time. One night to remember each other, to love each other again. Then she'd go back to Arizona, he'd go back to his girlfriend, and they'd continue on as if it never happened.
Matt stood up silently, and offered his hand. Emily took it without hesitation, slipping her hand into his sweaty palm. He was nervous, and he hadn't been nervous around Emily since they first started dating. He wasn't the only one. He could feel her hand shaking as it slipped easily into his. At the touch of his skin, tremors began coursing through her whole body. She hadn't been that nervous since the night she lost her virginity.
Now that's a misnomer. She didn't lose a damn thing, she gave it away very willingly.
Matt led her along the familiar path to his bedroom, struggling to keep his heartbeat level, licking his suddenly dry lips. He swallowed his nerves in a fat lump that nearly got stuck in his throat, and shut the bedroom door, drawing her close against his body. Hands caressing her face softly, brushing a curl behind her ear. He could feel her tremble beneath his hands, and it sent a thrill shooting through his body like a lightening rod.
Emily sensed it, sensed the subtle change in his body, and pressed closer to him. She pressed her mouth against his, soft at first, and then intensified it. Her hands went up the back of his shirt, sliding along his muscles, his soft skin. Matt followed her lead, one hand creeping up her back, unhooking her bra in seconds. He drew both hands down her back, along her sides, up to her breasts. She inhaled sharply as his hands made contact, and felt a tingle travel down her body.
She opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, and simultaneously began working on the buttons on his shirts. Of all days he had to choose to wear a button-down, it had to be the one where she was desperately trying to get him out of it. Matt stilled her near-frantic hands, and got the last few buttons off himself, slipping the shirt off. He moved his hands back toward her camisole, pulling it gently above her head, letting her bra fall to the ground.
He pressed back against her, the feel of their bare skin touching adding fuel to an already stoked fire. It roared through them like a wild thing suddenly released from it's cage, and maybe after almost three years of not touching each other, that's exactly what it was. Their pants came off quick, not because they were suddenly that coordinated, but because they wouldn't have it any other way. In only their underwear, still joined by their mouths, and the need to keep flesh against flesh, Matt eased them to the bed, pulling her on with him.
Rolling herself on top, Emily kissed along the soft skin of his chest, teasing a nipple, her tongue slipping dangerously under the band of his boxer-briefs, before moving back toward his face. Matt lay breathing heavily, gasping now and again, moaning as she teased. He watched her above him, breasts tangling before his eyes, squirming as she sucked an earlobe, he felt his blood rush down his body, making him hard and engorged. She felt him too, and it momentarily distracted her. Matt took the opportunity to roll them back so he was on top.
Emily gasped in surprised, but didn't fight him, it was his turn to tease. He place soft butterfly kisses along her stomach, before traveling up to her breasts, the kisses deepening as he moved. Emily moaned and arched her back, grabbing handfuls of his hair. He moved to her neck, kissing along her collarbone, smiling as she gave the reaction he remembered so well. She whimpered, gasped, moaned, and chanted his name quietly. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his lips, and chose that moment to slowly slide his hand inside her panties.
Emily gave a shuddering gasp as his fingers slid inside her, breath coming even faster than it had been. Oh, he knew exactly what to do to her, and he enjoyed watching her respond every time. He worked his fingers inside her, watching her arch her back again, knowing any second her hands would go for the sheets, rather than risk ripping his hair out. He intensified his delicate movements, and she moan and bucked wildly on the bed. Desperately, she grabbed at the sheets, her breath coming in struggled gasps.
Matt's pulse was racing, and his own breath was beginning to come faster. With one hand, he gently slid her panties down and off her legs, having already gotten his off. While she was still writhing and breathing heavily, he captured her lips, and slid inside her in one smooth move. Her body shuddered beneath his, and she tightened around him, arching her back again to meet him. Matt gasped, moaning long and loud. His thrusting grew in intensity, as he watched Emily writhing beneath him lost in ecstasy. Her grip tightened around his back, and she contracted around him, pushing him to the edge.
They finally came, screaming each other's names in a strangled, primal cry, before falling breathless back to he bed. Emily held him inside her for a few seconds longer, not wanting to give up with feeling quite yet. They lay catching their breath for several minutes, Matt resting his head just below Emily collarbone, arms still holding each other. They seemed to sense when they were both ready, as he slid off her, Emily turned to her side, and shimmed back to meet him. He'd already turned onto his side, and he moved up to meet her, to fit her body snuggly against his.
Matt pulled his arms tighter around her abdomen, and rested his head against her neck. He inhaled the familiar scent of her skin, and closed his eyes to feel her curls brush his face. He'd spent a year falling asleep and waking up to the scent of her, whether on his sheets or hers, that smell was always there. She smelled like lilies and soap, even after they made love and she was covered in sweat he could still smell it on her skin. He'd looked forward those two scents greeting him in the morning, it meant she was with him. Of course, now he'd have to wash his sheets before his girlfriend smelled another woman on them.
His current girlfriend, Alicia, just smelled like her perfume. It wasn't a scent that moved him, it was just something that he'd gotten used to. If he were ever completely honest with himself, she didn't really move him. No woman had ever affected him like Emily, and holding her now, he knew none ever would. He couldn't explain it, but she was…she was like finding God. Once you make that connection, it brings things out in you that you never even knew were there, and changes your life forever. To cut yourself off from that connection feels like a knife in your gut.
He didn't want to feel that again, but he'd promised her, just tonight.
Emily bit her lip, and struggled not to cry. She burrowed deeper against him, her butt pressing against his groin. He still wore the same aftershave, she could smell it on him, on his sheets. He'd changed his deodorant though, it was muskier now, less shower-scented. The feel of his skin pressing against hers certainly hadn't changed; it felt warm, and comfortable. She wrapped her arms around his, closed her eyes, and focused on the feel of his naked chest pressing against her naked back.
In the two and a half years since they'd broken up, since the last time they made love, she hadn't felt anything even close to it. It felt so good to be with him again, and not just in terms of orgasms. That was always unbelievable with him—you don't risk your career for bad sex. She felt safe with him, like she belonged with him, and that she was loved by him. There was this unbelievable sense of rightness, security maybe, that a she got from being with the him. Emily didn't really believe in the soul mates, meant to be with someone party-line women sold themselves, but laying with Matt, she couldn't deny how right it felt.
She didn't want to lose that again, but she'd agreed to just this one night.
They both knew it would be stupid to try again. They tried once, and failed. Trying twice, and failing twice would just be two painful to endure. Besides, if they were legitimately going to try again, she'd have to move back to LA. That would create some temporary havoc at two FBI field offices, and god only knows what all their friends would say to that. And, if they failed again, would she just transfer out again? No, there were too many encumbrances, and potential problems to consider trying again.
That only meant that tonight they were causing themselves more damage. A recovered alcoholic doesn't swallow a shot of Jack Daniels after two and a half years just to feel it again, it could lead to a relapse. But that's exactly what they'd done. Pulling apart after the break-up was agonizing for both of them, perhaps the hardest break-up either had ever been through. Yet, here they were. They just couldn't stop themselves. No matter that she lived in another state, no matter that he was cheating on his girlfriend. When it came to each other they simply had no breaks.
Tomorrow they'd untangle from each other, and that would be it.
Tomorrow would come way too soon.