This is written for the Masquerade Challenge on Chit Chat on Author's Corner Forum. Hotch and Emily are my chosen couple and my 'costume' was Snow White. Let me know what you think.


While Emily waited for Hotch to opened the door, she reached behind her back, trying to get to the spot on her back where the tag from her costume was scratching her. "Damn it," she muttered to herself. It was exactly at that awkward spot that neither hand could reach. Just as she was squirming her shoulders around, trying to relieve the itch, the door swung open. She froze, mid-squirm. Her eyes met Hotch's quizzical ones.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine!" She flashed him an overly bright smile, sweeping past him into his apartment, her bright yellow skirt billowing around her.

"Emily, what's up?" Hotch closed the door behind her. She didn't fail to notice how good he looked dressed in a maroon polo shirt and jeans, his hair lying casually on his forehead.

"Nothing. Really!" She suppressed a shiver as the itch intensified.

"It's obviously not nothing." He gave her a slight frown. "What's wrong."

"It's nothing!"

He gave her his laser beam Hotch stare.

"Fine! I've just got this itch I can't scratch, okay?" Her loud voice rang through the lounge room, making her cringe. Gee, how bout saying that a bit louder, Emily? The citizens in New York probably didn't heard you.

Hotch stared at her, stunned into silence. Emily too, was silent, but for completely different reasons. Did I just say what I think I said? By the look on Hotch's face, yep, she did. She closed her eyes, feeling heat wash over her face.

She opened them again when he cleared his throat. "Uh, so this itch, is it on your back?"

Thankfully, he had decided not to say anything in response to her unintentionally suggestive comment.

"Yes, would you mind..." she turned her back to him. "It's in the middle of my back, near the top where the tag is."

She felt his fingers touch her back, fingernails scratching lightly on her back. A sudden shiver ran through her and she felt her pulse speed up. She realised that she couldn't remember the last time she had had any physical contact with him. She hadn't even gotten a hug from him after she had come back from her 'exile', so to speak. This rather intimate touch was arousing an unexpectedly intense reaction from her. It was probably because she hadn't had sex with a man since the beginning of time. Any man's touch would have had the same effect, she tried to tell herself, feeling his warm breath on her ear.

"Um...a little lower. Oh there..." she murmured, sighing as his fingers touched the exact spot that was causing her such discomfort. "Oh, that's so good. Harder." He complied after a brief pause, and she arched her back at the delicious satisfaction she was currently feeling. A few seconds later, she turned back to face him. "Thanks, Hotch, I really needed..." her voice trailed off when she saw the slight flush on his cheeks. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that he was as affected by their physical contact as she was. Surely not. This was Hotch she was talking about. The man of steel. Ice water running through his veins. Solid as a rock and emotionless as one. Outwardly anyhow. You get the picture.

They stared at each other. For once in her life, Emily didn't know what to say to break the charged silence.

"Emily!" She turned around with relief to see Jack running up to her, beaming from ear to ear.

"Hi sweetie!" She bent down and gave him a big hug before straightening up. "You look awesome! Exactly like a little dwarf. Daddy did a great job finding that costume for you." He really was adorable in his green floppy hat, brown coat, black belt and brown pants. The clincher was the fake white beard. "Hang on, I'm not really sure, are you a dwarf or are you Santa Clause?"

"I'm a dwarf! Santa wears a red suit and has a round tummy."

"Oh, that's right," Emily replied, pretending to only just realise that fact. "Silly me."

"You look just like Snow White, Emily!"

"Thank you, sweetie."

"Yes, I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten my manners," Hotch interjected. "You look lovely tonight."

Their eyes met and again, something between them seemed to connect. What the hell was going on? Was it some sort of weird Halloween effect? Like the full moon or something. She really should ask Reid. She tried to answer in a normal voice. "Thanks. The whole thing was from the costume store, so I can't really take any credit. Well, except for my shoes." She showed him her ballet flats. "There's no way I was going to buy a pair of bright yellow shoes, Halloween or not."

"Can we go now?" piped up Jack. Who could blame him? What 6 year old wanted to listen about an adult woman's boring as hell shoe choices.

"Absolutely, little man. I see Daddy's got your gear all ready. Shall we start on this floor and then go up?"

Jack nodded vigorously. She took his hand and headed to the door.

Hotch opened it and they stepped outside. "Emily," he called out, stopping her in her tracks. "Thanks for taking Jack. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she replied simply, smiling. "Better you than me writing up that report for the director. Besides, this is the first date I've had in like forever! See you in a bit."

She walked down the hall with Jack towards Hotch's next door neighbour, chatting with Jack about what their respective favourite candies were. As a result she failed to see the thoughtful look on Hotch's face as he gazed after them.

Hotch opened the door, smiling at Jack's greeting.

"Daddy! Daddy! Emily and I got lots and lots of candy! Look!"

"Wow, that's very impressive, buddy, good going." He gave his son a high five.

"I need to do a wee, Dad," Jack called out as he rushed past Hotch.

"Well, okay then." Hotch finally looked up at Emily. He was again struck by how incredible she looked tonight. Her smooth, fair skin needed no embellishment and her lips still held a fair amount of the bright red lipstick that had been there at the start of the evening. She had curled her hair to more closely resemble her character, and a red hair band with a bow held her hair back. As she looked at him, a soft blush tinged her cheeks, forcing him to clench his hands in fists just to keep himself from kissing her. He blinked at his thought. Where the hell had that come from? She was his subordinate for God's sake! What was he thinking? Breaking the rules, obviously, came an unfamiliar voice. In an effort to stifle that voice, he asked her if she would like a drink.

"Can I just have some tea if you have it? I'm tired, and anything alcoholic will probably put me to sleep."

Guilt stabbed through him. "Emily, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to take Jack tonight. That wasn't fair to you. You had a hard day today, too."

"Please, I had a great time with Jack, it was completely my pleasure. And please don't feel bad. It's fine, really." She gave him a smile and he relaxed slightly when he saw the genuineness of her reply on her face.

"Daddy, may I have a piece of candy?" Jack was back and Hotch smothered a smile when he saw that Jack's floppy hat had slipped over one eye. Before he could fix it, Emily beat him to it.

"I told him he had to wait to have the candy till he got home and asked you."

"Thanks. And yes, Jack, you may have two pieces just because it's Halloween. And then it's bedtime. It's way past your bedtime already."

"Aww... can't I stay up to play with Emily?" Jack looked pleadingly at him.

"No, buddy, another time, okay?"

"Okay," he said, face downcast.

"Hey, Jack," said Emily, crouching down before him. "I promise I'll come around sometime and we can play for ages and ages before you have to go to bed, okay? I'll even bring along something special for dinner, what do you think?"

"Yeah! Can I have that special animal pasta, pleeese?"

"Your wish is my command," said Emily, bowing before Jack, making him break out in giggles. It's a date!" She gave him a hug before Hotch handed him a small chocolate bar and a Reese's pieces.

After Hotch tucked Jack in bed, he came back into the lounge room to find Emily slumped back on the three seater couch, her eyes closed. When she heard him, she opened her eyes, giving him a sleepy smile which made his heart knock hard in his chest. Hotchner, get a bloody grip on yourself.

"Jack okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, taking a seat next to her. "He was already half asleep before I left the room so I'm pretty sure he's asleep by now."

Emily nodded then suddenly grimaced. She twisted around and rubbed her back against the back of the couch, obviously trying to relief the itch on her back.

"That tag still bothering you?" he asked, concerned. She had had that dress on for over two hours. "Come here, I better take a look at that."

She obligingly scooted towards him, presenting her back to him. She lifted her hair up so that he could slide down her zip. He saw the slight tremor in his fingers and felt his heart start to pound. This is a really, really bad idea, warned that familiar rational voice in his mind. He pushed her dress aside, his brow drawing into a frown when he saw the red patch of irritated skin on her back. "Emily, you have to stop wearing this dress. I'm going to get one of my t-shirts and some aloe vera gel for your skin. Wait here."

Hotch came back and sat next to Emily. He unzipped the costume all the way then paused, his eyes transfixed on her bra. "Emily, your..uh..bra's in the way."

"I got it." He watched as she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. With a casual shrug of her shoulders, the bra and the dress slid off her shoulders until it was caught by her elbows.

Hotch gaped at the bare expanse of ivory skin before him. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen this much skin outside of a crime scene. Saying his love life was pathetic was the understatement of the millennium. At the moment, his rational alter ego was pretty much waving his arms and running around in circles shouting 'danger! danger!' at the top of his lungs.

"Hotch, you okay back there?"

He jolted back to reality. "Fine." Come on, Hotchner, act like the man you say you are. He flipped the cap open and squeezed out a generous portion of the gel onto the tips of his fingers. "This might be a little cold," he warned. Holding his breath as if he was the one who was having the gel applied he spread it on the small red patch of skin that was the only blemish on the pale skin of her back. He swallowed hard as his fingertips stroked over her smooth, soft skin.

"Mm...that's nice," murmured Emily, leaning sideways so that her head and shoulder was braced against the backrest of the couch.

Hotch knew he should stop, the gel had been applied, he had done his 'civic' duty and treated her. But it was as if the hand before him belonged to someone else. Because it didn't stop, instead moving lower down her back and softly stroking her skin. Of its own volition, his right hand joined his left and he started to press his thumbs into the muscles on either side of her spine.

"Oh Hotch." Her low moan resounded around them, scraping nerves that felt exposed and raw. He felt a surge of arousal travel through him. He didn't need to look downwards to know that the evidence of it was pressed tightly against his zipper. And yet he couldn't seem to stop, his hands moving up her spine slowly as he gradually pressed his thumbs into her pressure points to relieve the tension in the muscles in her back. When he pressed down on a spot in her upper back, she groaned softly and arched her back. The scent of her light, floral perfume heated by the warmth of her skin teased his nostrils and he had to forcibly stop himself from leaning down and pressing his mouth against her shoulder.

"Oh my God, Hotch, what are you doing to me? That feels soooo good." Her voice sounded almost drugged and his hands stilled when she twisted around to face him, her right hand holding up the bodice of her dress. He stared at her, his eyes automatically cataloguing her heavy lidded eyes and slightly open mouth. Her gaze however, was not fixed on his eyes, but was instead lingering on his mouth. She licked the corner of her lips, something that he had seen her do a thousand times, but the difference this time was that it sent a jolt of lightning through him, straight to his manhood.

"Emily," he started to say, hearing the huskiness in his own voice. He fell silent when her eyes lifted to meet his. Without saying a word, she picked up her gown in her hands and getting up on her knees, swung on leg over him, settling down on his lap. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she bent her head towards him, drawing closer and closer until he was unable to focus on her face. An instant later her lips touched his. They were soft and supple, and held the faintest taste of strawberries. His tongue gently nudged the seam of her lips, requesting entry and she obliged, tilting her head slightly to the right to enable him more access to her mouth. Their tongues teased and danced a duet together, one following, one retreating, then vice versa.

His hands, which had been passive since they moved to rest on either side of her hips grew restless and he lifted up the material of her gown that was behind her, until his hands met a lace covered bottom. He felt his shaft surge when he felt the naked skin at the bottom of the curve of her buttocks. His brain went in overdrive as he pictured red lace panties hugging her delicious bottom, the high cut lingerie leaving nothing to the imagination. He ran his fingers along the edge of her panties, down towards the apex of her thighs. When they reached the humid warmth there, she lifted her hips, bracing her hands on his chest. He couldn't wait any longer and his fingers slipped under the lace, gliding through her wet folds until he connected with her swollen clit.

Emily moaned in his mouth, her hands fisting around the material of his polo shirt. Never breaking off their passionate kiss, he ran his finger over and over her slippery nub. Faster and faster he stroked until she suddenly pulled away from his mouth and stiffened over him, her face frozen in agonised pleasure. She gasped and sat down abruptly, trapping his hand between them. She sat there for a while, trying to recover her breath. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and her eyes were dazed. Her hair was in disarray from when his hand had cupped her head to bring her even closer to him. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She suddenly got up on her knees and removed his hand. Pushing her skirt aside, she started to unbutton and unzip his jeans. Taken by surprise, he could only lift his hips up so that she could pull his jeans and boxer shorts down. Freed from its confines, his straining erection sprang upwards and she closed her hand around him, making the breath still in his throat. She looked down at him, her mouth parted as she slowly fisted his hard length. He groaned low in his throat as the tension started to coil deep in the pit of his stomach. The fingers of her other hand came down and touched the weeping crown and Hotch tensed at the intense surge of sensation when she touched her fingers to her mouth to taste him.

He grabbed hold of her wrist, stopping the movements of her hand. Her eyes flew up to his, a question on her face.

"Not like this." His voice was so low and gritty that he could barely understand himself. But she seemed to, nodding ever so slightly. He lifted her off him and lay her on the couch, thankful that it was wide enough to accommodate the both of them. She pulled her dress up to her waist and lifted her hips to allow him to remove her underwear.

Hotch moved between her legs and bracing his arms on either side of her shoulders, lodged himself at her soft opening. Shit! "Emily, I don't have any protection." Damn, damn, damn. He cursed himself and started to get off her but still when he felt her hands on his shoulders.

"It's all right," she said softly, eyes shining. "I'm on the pill and we've both just had our physical, right? I'm healthy."

He looked at the incredible woman lying under him. He couldn't believe that this was happening. In fact, her wouldn't have been surprised at all to wake up and find that this had all been a dream. "I'm healthy too."

She smiled, lifting her head to press a soft kiss on his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Aaron Hotchner. Make me yours."

At her words, he positioned himself and slowly pushed himself into her. He felt her tense and he stopped, letting her adjust to him, before gradually entering further and further until he was fully lodged within her hot, wet depths. He pulled out, then pushed back in, eyes fixed intently on her to make sure that she was not in any discomfort. Apparently she wasn't, because she emitted a soft sigh and lifted her legs high around him, pressing her ankles against his buttocks.

"Harder," she whispered, and just like that, he was gone. He slammed into her like a man possessed, their hips slapping together and their panting breaths the only sounds in the room. When he felt his climax approach, he reached between them and touched the sensitive bud, stroking it firmly. A few moments later her back arched and her inner muscles clamped down around his shaft, a keening moan escaping her lips. He gritted his teeth as his orgasm rushed over him like a tidal wave, and he emptied himself in her, his body shuddering with the intensity of his release.

His breath still heaving, he switched positions with her so that she was lying almost on top of him. It was a long time before their heartbeats stopped racing and their breathing was back to normal. As he stroked Emily's back, a thought occurred to him and he chuckled.

"What?" She lifted her head up to look at him.

"I wonder what the team would say if they knew I've just screwed Snow White."

Emily burst out in laughter while Hotch grinned at her. "They'd probably say that you're a sexual deviant with a fixation on Disney characters."

"No, I'm not fixated on Disney characters, just on this particularly ravishing Snow White."

The smile that was on her face widened. "Really?"


She scooted up and he kissed her, the tenderness in the kiss surprising him.

"I feel duty bound to correct that earlier statement of yours," she murmured when they finally drew apart.

"What's that?" He tucked a curl behind her ear.

"You didn't just screw Snow White, you screwed her brains out," she said, giving him a wicked smile.

"Not only did I do that," he replied, laughing, "but I believed I also managed to scratch that itch of yours, Agent Prentiss."

"My hero," she quipped, pretending to look starry-eyed. "Who needs Prince Charming when I've got Aaron Hotchner, amazing lover and itch scratcher extraordinaire."

He chuckled. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "So do you think Snow White ever got it on with the seven dwarves? Because that would have been an orgy worth telling about."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "How bout you try pitching that to the Walt Disney Company? Now shut up and kiss me, you pervert."

He was still laughing when their lips met.

That was a bit of fun. Send me a review if you can.

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