Title: Circadian Rhythm
Pairing: Emily Prentiss/John Sheppard
Summary: Prompt: 232 – Criminal Minds, Emily Prentiss/John Sheppard, One late night
Spoilers: None; pre-series for both
Warnings: Sexual situations
Author's Notes: great thanks go out to: sgcgategirl
, and falcon_horus
for the fantastic beta jobs
Emily Prentiss enjoys throwing caution to the wind from time to time. She likes shedding the proper exterior of an Ambassador's daughter and living dangerously. Joining the FBI has done nothing to quell these bouts of fantasy.
The case that brings her to Grand Forks Air Force Base is not one of any monumental significance. The tension between the Air Force officers and the FBI is palpable and reminiscent of many holidays spent with her parents. The wind-down afterward is much needed.
The Air Force bar isn't her first choice, but it's close and cheap and she could really use a few drinks and -- maybe even some harmless flirting. Lord knows, she's never looked unkindly on a man in uniform. She talks with several of the servicemen there – many of whom are skeptical about her true intentions; instead thinking that she's still trying to work some kind of angle on the case.
She's thinking about calling it a night and just going back to her assigned quarters when Captain Sheppard walks in. He's attractive enough but completely not her type – which could be exactly why she's finding him so alluring this evening.
He's a cocky fighter pilot – confident and intelligent, but not obnoxiously so. He likes to play dumb and often succeeds, though it's usually more for effect and information gathering than out of any real ignorance of the issues. The thing she finds most interesting, though, is the fact that he's the kind of guy who likes other men to think he has more notches in his bedpost than flight hours, even though it's nowhere near the truth.
Captain John Sheppard – divorced, though he states that he can't figure out for the life of him how she's figured that one out – turns out to be just the relaxation that she needs for the evening. There's a chess set in a corner at the back and they play a few games while they drink their beers. They talk, intentionally steering the conversation from anything too
personal – she reveals some of her past and her travels after he sputters in his beer when she mutters القرف under her breath. He tells her a bit about his time in the Middle East, and how he's really itching for the next mission to be announced, because sitting idle after everything that's gone on is driving him up a wall.
He mentions Harrison Bergeron, she mentions Cat's Cradle, and before they know it the bartender is announcing last call and they've been discussing Vonnegut as if they were each defending their master's theses. The short walk back to her assigned quarters doesn't take long, and when John pulls the bottle of bourbon that he lifted from the bar out from around his back, it doesn't take much thought for her to open the door and pull him inside. So what if she's a little slower getting up the next morning?
The first kiss takes her by surprise. She's laughing and it's unexpected and a little sloppy, but they fall into it nicely. Their kisses deepen and before she can put down her glass, her shoes are off and she's backing toward the bed.
This wasn't exactly what she had in mind when she went into the bar earlier, but she's definitely not complaining about the way it seems to be coming about.
Her glass winds up somewhere on the floor and she's only slightly sorry that she won't be able to clean it up before whoever comes in to clean the room. Then John's fingers are unbuttoning her shirt and her hands are working at his belt and she could really care less about a stain on the carpet.
Their movements are rushed and awkward, their hands occasionally getting wrapped up in the material or each other. It's not the most graceful performance she's ever given by any means, but it's not rough and it's oddly comfortable. She pulls back a bit when he's stripped down to nothing but his boxers and she's lying there in her bra and panties.
She fumbles over the words and then rolls her eyes at herself wondering why her "proper upbringing" never came up with a way to say what she wants to.
He smiles a bit shyly and leans over to grab his pants. When he pulls out the condom she breathes a slight sigh of relief, snorting in a rather unladylike fashion when he jokes about having been a Boy Scout in his youth and learning to always be prepared for any scenario. This is definitely the oddest hook-up that she's ever had, but she's totally not complaining as his lips meet hers again and he quickly unhooks the clasp of her bra.
His hands feel hot against her skin and she feels the goose bumps break out despite the warmth in the room. Her nails dig into his back as he palms one of her breasts and all of a sudden the sensation is too much and nowhere near enough all at the same time. She loops her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and almost impresses herself with the fancy footwork she puts into practice to shed them from his body.
John seems impressed too, but he hardly says anything as she takes him in her left hand and grabs the condom with her right. She carefully tears into the package with her teeth as he slides her pants down her legs. She feels the heat rise to her cheeks when he smirks as she flings the article across the room with her foot. His hand goes to her hip, shifting her slightly, while his lips meet hers as she rolls the condom on.
It's clumsy, similar to how their kiss started, and Emily isn't sure if it's because of the alcohol or the late hour or a combination of the two. She's also not sure she can take much more of this without going insane. It's good -- very
good – but it's not getting her where she needs to be right now and she doesn't care to hide the fact that she's tired of waiting.
She flips them easily, enjoying the almost-squeak that she manages to conjure out of John – she's sure his Air Force buddies would just love
to know about that – and links their hands as she looks for purchase. Once he recovers, he seems to understand and adjusts to her speed and rhythm.
Her hands move to his shoulders and he grasps her hips. He mumbles something into her neck about adoring a woman who isn't afraid to take charge and she laughs. If only he knew that she'd totally bungle this if it wasn't for the complete abundance of liquid courage she'd consumed with him earlier.
This position is working much better for her and she feels the warmth begin to spread out across her belly. Her head tips back and she sighs, her breath catching in her throat as John's teeth gently nip at her shoulder. The sensation tips her off balance and she feels herself crash over the edge of the precipice that she'd thought was too elusive.
John holds her hips tight to his before thrusting a few more times and finishing, her body plastered on top of his as her collapses back into the mattress. They lie there for a few minutes before she even thinks about looking at the clock. If she sticks to her normal schedule, she might be able to catch about four hours of sleep before she has to be up and getting ready for the plane.
John follows her gaze before sighing, "I guess I should apologize for keeping you up so late."
Emily smiles, her head dipping into his chest briefly as she turns. "I wasn't complaining."
They disengage and things take on a slightly awkward tone again, before Emily tosses a pillow at John. "I get the right side of the bed and the alarm will go off no later than 8:30."
John smiles as he slips his boxers on leaning over to kiss her on the lips before flopping into bed, "And I follow orders well, ma'am."