Author's Note: This is a story that I started a very long time ago for someone. There are a lot of details that will make a lot of sense to that person, and be very meaningless to the rest of you, but that by no means makes it unreadable – it's just cutesy Emily/JJ story. :) (something which I don't do very often.) Oh and the title is a Snow Patrol song – a very good one so you should all go listen. That is all. Read and review, please! :)
Crack The Shutters
I wake to feel you breathing next to me, and for a moment I find myself happily lost in cliché. The single cliché moment where you feel wholly content, and instead of cringing at such a thing, I realise that clichés only exist because they're truths, they do happen.
But then something about this isn't cliché. Cliché defines as trite and familiar, but there's nothing trite about something you've very rarely felt, and there's nothing familiar about waking up next to you. It isn't familiar; it's never happened before now. It's simply comfortable, and I find myself smiling at that.
The previous night, you'd pulled out the IOU I'd given you many months before - the one entitling you to one movie, one pizza, your bed, and me. I laughed when I reminded you that the small print states that it can only be redeemed once, and that you'd already used it several times before. And you took that moment to remind me, with one simple gesture, of the further small print that I'd neglected to take into account: Terms subject to change; depending on the bearer's powers of persuasion.
I smiled inwardly as you sat there with your pouty bottom lip, a slight glimmer in your eye that told me you knew very well that that would get you everywhere. And I tried to keep a straight expression, not allow you the satisfaction of knowing you had me wrapped around your little finger, but soon enough that inward smile of mine visibly made it's presence known on my face, and a smug, satisfied grin formed on your own.
It was all a game, really. We both knew that there was never any question about me wanting to spend time with you, never even any need for you to ask. But perhaps a part of me enjoyed that split second where I could see you really did question that, where you thought that maybe I really did have better places to be. That split second right before you stuck out your bottom lip, and showed me that you did know it was a game, and that you were willing to play along.
That was last night, and this is now. You'd fallen asleep long before the credits rolled, with your head resting against my tummy and your left hand strewn loosely over my hip. I didn't have the heart to move you, and I wasn't uncomfortable, so I flicked off the TV, and let you sleep that way.
I move around in my sleep, and I guess that's the reason that neither of us are still in that same position when I wake up. But you're there, and though you know I don't like sharing a bed, and though I'd never tell you; I'm grateful for that.
I roll over onto my back before freeing my arms from the duvet and letting them rest on top. I take a quick glance at you, sleeping peacefully, and turn my head back and smirk to myself. I think about the ways I could wake you, disturb you from that peaceful slumber. I'm not sure at that point if you'd get pissed off with me for such a thing, but that uncertainty seems to make me want to wake you more. I want to see that initial annoyance reflected in your reaction, before you can't even pretend to be mad at me anymore.
Rolling onto my left side I prop myself up on my elbow, before bringing my right hand back beneath the duvet. It's cool from its brief encounter with the cold air beyond the cocoon of the blankets, and that smirk makes its presence known on my face once again as I imagine your body reacting to the sudden temperature change against your skin.
I could place my hand directly against your stomach, your chest, your neck, but I'm fairly certain that would simply startle you awake. That's not what I want; I want to see every tiny reaction your body has towards me. So instead, I run the back of my fingers slowly, barely grazing your skin, down the right side of your stomach. Your shirt has risen during the night - it likes to do that - so I begin my trail as high up as the material allows me to do so. I move my fingers gently along the side of your breast, your stomach, until I reach your hip, and allow two fingers to dip barely beneath your underwear. Only for a split second, before my hand continues its journey along your lower stomach - but I smile smugly to myself as a subtle movement in your hips confirms to me that I am having the desired effect.
I haven't taken my eyes off of you for a second, noticed every unconscious flicker of your own as my fingers make their way across your body. But the cool of my hand is fading quickly, and before it completely dissipates, I finally lay it flat against your stomach. The gesture is still gentle, barely touching you, but your sudden deep intake of breath assures me that you felt it. Your skin is hot, and my cool hand doesn't stand a chance against it's temperature. But I keep it there for a few seconds more; until I'm fully satisfied that you felt it right down to your core.
My eyes are still on you, watching every slight movement, and I see your eyes flicker once more as my hand, still flat against you, makes its way up towards your chest. There's a sharp intake of breath again as my fingers find your nipple, form a tight grip around it, and you turn your head away from me, slightly burying your face in the pillow and granting me access to your neck. I press my lips against the skin there, gently; a perfect contrast to the actions of my fingers. I make my way from your ear, down to the nape of your neck, before I pull away and watch you once more; every breath you take matches the motions of my fingers, and I can feel the heat between my own legs rising.
There's something incredibly hot about watching your body's response to me. Something incredibly satisfying about seeing and feeling the effect that I have on you, and I find myself craving more. But not just yet; I want to see your eyes as I press my fingers into you.
I remove my hand for a moment, and smile as a whimper escapes your lips at the loss of contact. "Something wrong, baby?"
You don't reply, but I notice the slight smile tugging at the corners of your mouth; I wonder if you realise how adorable you are.
A smile gracing my own lips, I press my mouth to yours, and you waste no time in grabbing a handful of dark hair and holding me to you. I pull away, only when oxygen becomes a definite issue, and you speak for the first time that morning, "Em, please.."
The desire to tease you some more is pretty much overwhelming but the need to be inside you overrides it, and as I press my lips to yours once more, my hand makes its descent further down your body. Your hips move as I reach the top of your underwear, and I smile once again, so fucking hot.
I tug at your underwear, "I don't think we need these," and I can't help but laugh as you hastily remove them as if your life depends on it. All desire to tease you leaves instantly as I run my fingers through liquid heat and hear you moan at the contact, "My god. You're so fucking hot, Jen." The words are barely a whisper against your lips, and I struggle to stifle my own moan as I feel your hips move against my hand.
"Please, baby.. I need you inside me."
Your wish is my command and the sharp tug against my hair as I press two fingers into you simply fuels my own desire even further. I prop myself up on my left arm, my hand tangled somewhere in your hair, and straddle your thigh; my fingers still buried deep inside you, my forehead pressed firmly against yours as our bodies meld together. Your hips pick up an instant rhythm against my hand, spurring me on, and I waste no time in matching your hips thrust for thrust.
You press your free hand to the small of my back, effectively forcing me down further against your thigh as we move together, the other locking its grip further into my hair as you crush your lips against mine. My fingers curl inside you and your kiss ceases as you concentrate on the sensations coursing through your body, but your lips don't leave mine – I can feel the heat of your breath burn against my lips as my thumb rubs circles against your clit, feel the vibrations of your moans right down to my pussy – and I have never felt more alive in my whole life.
I know this will be over long before I wanted it to be, long before I'm ready for it to be, but as my fingers push you to the edge that you're so desperately craving, as the friction of our movements brings me to that very same edge, I am somehow okay with that.
"Em, I'm gona come.."
That is quite possibly the most erotic thing I have ever heard and as I feel the signs of my own imminent orgasm, my thumb moves faster against you, my thigh presses firmer against your pussy. "Come for me baby.."
I feel every inch of you tense up at my whispered command, feel the grip on my hair become stronger as my own body chases that perfect state of euphoria. The air around us falls deathly silent for a moment – a silence that is laced with every word left unsaid between us. And whilst the silence is filled once again with ragged breaths of pleasure and release as we both finally fall over that beautiful edge, I find those unspoken words falling freely from my lips. "I love you, Jennifer. So fucking much."
My face falls to the crevice between your shoulder and neck for a second as I catch my breath, and I feel your hands stroke gently over my hair. I wonder briefly if you heard me and lift my head to meet your eyes. "I'm sorry I made you wait."
"I'll wait forever."
I frown at your words, at the indication that you're still waiting, and a small part of me feels a little angry that your innate uncertainty in yourself is preventing you from seeing the huge step that I just took, from seeing the reality of me finally having the courage to admit my feelings to you. And then a short conversation makes its way to the forefront of my mind – a conversation in which I told you that there's a huge difference between telling someone that you love them and that you're in love with them – and my anger dissipates into a smile. "I'm so in love with you."
You smile and hover your lips millimetres from mine. "I'm so in love with you too, Ms. Prentiss."