It's Hard to be a Man
Title: It's Hard to be a Man
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 2588
Prompt: 028. Anonymous
Apologies: This is porn. Futuristic AU porn and nothing else. (At some point I will write a Doctor-Who X-over and then we will all be sorry.) Warning: Transgender sex (so tg it verges on het, so watch out).
Emily hadn’t wanted to go to the dinner party as a man, but her mother had freaked out when her escort had bailed at the last moment and told her that she had to come, but she couldn’t upset the male-female balance. That was how she ended up stepping into her mother’s newfangled sex-change machine, and coming out with a cock.
The chest hair was a problem, she considered, but her long smooth cock, uncut, was perfectly fine. It just didn’t really fit in her usual pants.
Luckily her mother had rented a suit for her escort, and it would fit Emily’s altered frame. But she balked at wearing her mother’s lover’s underwear. She went without. The cut of the tux was quite nice, and she tied her hair back. She looked good and knew it.
Her mother rolled her eyes at her swagger and introduced her as her nephew who had just come back from the Venezuelan colony on Razmataria.
It was interesting to be a lesbian in a man’s body. All the straight women noticed her, giving her dark looks, even when they wore rings on their fingers.
Jean Worthington flirted with her. Katherine Rasputina blushed whenever she walked by. Both of their husbands were completely oblivious. Only the hostess, Emma Summers, seemed to see through the change. She gave her an appraising look, then smirked into her hand, amused. (They had gone to the same cadet training program although they never socialized in the same circles, and Emily wasn’t particularly surprised at being recognized. Emma always noticed things that could be used to humiliate her. It was natural.)
It was a very posh do. The table they were all seated at was narrow, but it didn’t need to be wide, because robotic footmen carried the dishes around and served the wine. Emily, seated between two beautiful women who were paying her more attention than she was used to, let the wine go to her head, and was enjoying herself immensely.
It was just innocent flirting, she thought, until the second course when she felt a foot in her lap. She couldn’t tell whose it was. Probably three women could reach and two of them were making eyes at her. (Emma wasn’t. She was speaking with the man next to her, very engaged and intent.) The foot, bare and smooth, ran over the crotch of her pants, stroking her unaccustomed dick. It stiffened slightly, and Emily wished she had just worn those underwear. She could feel herself tenting the fabric of her tuxedo pants. The foot kept up its slow torture, running along the length of it, digging into her balls, almost painfully, but never more than enough to turn her on even more.
Emily barely made it through the main course without bolting. She couldn’t close her legs. It was humiliating, but she really didn’t want it to stop. (If it did she knew she’d have to wait for a distraction and run to jerk off. It wasn’t going down.)
And then dragging her from her aroused humiliation was the announcement that it was time for the men to have their brandy and smokeless cigars, and the women would go off and have coffee. Emily gave her mother a look. She hated cigars, and would much rather have coffee, not that she was going anywhere with her pants distended the way they were.
The foot slipped out of her lap, and the women left.
Emily’s cock ached and pained her every time she shifted in her chair. It was probably a bad idea to try and stroke off under the table, she considered. She refused a cigar. The men were laughing, talking disrespectfully about one of their wives who wouldn’t put out enough. Emily shifted uncomfortably. It was obviously not the one who had had her foot in her lap.
Then the talk turned to children. Warren and Peter both had two. Both Emily and her erection felt like an impostor.
Then she felt a hand cup her crotch. There was someone under the table.
It was a feminine hand. What woman would dare to do this with her husband two chairs down? The foot was excusable, but this-
The hand unfastened her pants and pulled out her cock. Skin to skin was so different from the frottage from before. Whatever deflation had occurred in the interim was gone now. The fingers pulled back her foreskin and teased the head. Then something warm and wet flicked against it, and Emily sat straight up. That was a tongue!
She had thought she was hard before, but that was nothing compared to this. Lips wrapped around the head of her cock, the tongue flicking her slit, the woman sucked, and Emily was sure she was going to come right there.
Just when she knew she was a moment away from ejaculating all over this woman’s face, the hand tucked her rock-hard cock down the leg of her pants and fastened her up, giving her balls an absent-minded squeeze as she did so.
In an unidentifiable whisper, “upstairs, first door on the right,” the woman whispered, and suddenly all trace of her presence was gone.
Emily counted to forty-two before she couldn’t stand it any longer, made an excuse about the bathroom, and slipped away from the table, turning her body so that hopefully her turgid cock would not be visible.
There were too many stairs, but she galloped up them, desperate for release. (If no one was there she would just jack off as many times as it took to make this monster go down. There was no other choice.)
The room behind the first door to the right was pitch black. But in the light from the doorway she could see the glimmer of a white ass and thighs. The woman was kneeling on the bed, naked, her head down, arms over it, so she still could not see her face or the color of her hair. But she could easily see the red flush of her pussy.
“Close the door.”
Emily obeyed, and the darkness was complete again. Blind, she stripped off her tux, her rigid cock nearly making her tear the trousers. When she was naked she stepped forward until her hands touched smooth skin and ran over the woman’s ass cheeks. She bent, dropping to her knees, ignoring the pleas of her cock to just ram it home, and slipped her tongue into the woman’s slit. She was lush and moist, and responded to the long stokes of Emily’s tongue with a shuddering moan.
God, Emily couldn’t decide which was more erotic, the fact that this was actually happening, or the possibility that it could be with anybody. She played with the woman’s clit as she tongue fucked her until she came with a gasp and a rush of fluid. Emily pressed two fingers into her. They went in smoothly, and she stood up. Her hands ran along the sides of this woman, touching her skin, the only way of seeing she had, and wondering who it was she was about to fuck.
She rubbed the head of her cock against the woman’s wet cunt, not yet pushing it in. Her hips jerked a little, encouragement perhaps? She pressed it against her entrance and pushed, infinitesimally slowly, keeping a firm grip on the shaft. When the head was buried inside the woman’s hot, wet passage, she made slow circles with it, stretching her entrance as she fed her cock in, inch by inch.
She heard faint gasped curses as she slid to the hilt, her bony hips flush against the woman’s lush ass.
“Fuck me,” she hissed. “Fuck me now.”
Emily did not need to be asked twice. She drew out, leaving only the head inside and slammed in again, not slow, not easy, knowing she was ramming the woman’s face into the mattress. She cried out, but her hips pushed against Emily’s trying to make the fucking harder.
Emily had been teased all night, and was so ready to get off, that once she started, she knew she couldn’t stop or even slow down until she had come. She started jackhammering the woman, shoving her into the mattress with each stroke. Her hands slid down the woman’s torso until she found her breasts, and kneaded them roughly, knowing she would leave bruises for the woman’s husband to see, but only more aroused by the thought.
The woman made rough gasps at every stroke, and Emily let herself imagine every woman at the party underneath her. Jean’s red hair swirling over the mattress, her gentle power effaced as she was fucked. Kitty’s girlish squeals, that virginal look a mother of two should not be allowed to have, whimpering as she succumbed to her own desires. Or Emma, fuck, she wanted it to be Emma, her disdain and disinterest had always left Emily humiliated. God, she wanted to be fucking the sarcasm out of her, smearing the perfect make up on her cruel smile, making her take it, even if she screamed and begged her not to…
And Emily came, a hot gush of semen pouring out of her. The woman gasped, but held still, letting it fill her up inside. It was the release she had been waiting for all night, and her cock sank gratefully to half-mast.
The woman crawled away, and she let her, sinking to her knees, pressed against the mattress, so relieved, that even the semi-aroused state she remained in was unimportant.
At least it was unimportant until she felt the woman lift her cock, and wrap her lips around it. It was sticky with both their cum, but she still licked it unrepentantly. Emily felt herself harden again, and then the woman started pushing into her, even deeper. The tip of her cock was pressed against the back of the woman’s throat, and still she didn’t stop. Emily thought she was going to cry as she pushed farther down, into the tight channel of her pharynx, and then she swallowed.
When she pulled out, Emily was as hard as she had been a half an hour earlier. The woman guided Emily’s hips between her legs and lay back. Emily knelt on the bed and found the woman’s cunt with her fingers. Then she slotted her cock into position.
She hooked her arms through the woman’s knees and rocked forward, lifting her hips off the bed and pinning her in place. She thrust deeply inside.
Gasping at the hot wet tightness of it, she accidentally knocked her head against the woman’s, causing an unerotic yelp from them both. But she was right there, and Emily leaned in to kiss her.
She started to fuck her, pistoning her hips, slowly at first and then in a faster and faster rhythm. She kept kissing her, tasting the salt of her cum on her lips, and the woman kissed back.
The woman came first, clenching tight around Emily’s cock and causing her to groan and hammer her harder, until she peaked as well, still filling her, but not as much as the first time.
They lay sated and overwhelmed for a moment. Then Emily thought to reach out and touch her hair, if she could know what it felt like, perhaps she would know-
She only had a brush of baby-fine silk over her fingers before the woman smacked her hand and pushed her off, rolling away. A door in a different direction than the one she had come in through opened and closed again, and Emily was alone, cursing herself for ruining the afterglow.
Eventually she got up and turned on the lights. It was a guest room with an ensuite bathroom and she cleaned up as best she could. Embarrassedly she straightened up the rumpled covers (there wasn't anything she could do about the wet spot) and tried to put her bow tie back on. In the end she let it dangle around her neck.
She made it back to the dining room just as the men were getting up to join the women in the parlor for cake. She couldn’t look anyone in the eye, not a husband she might had cuckolded, not a wife she might have fucked.
In the shuttle on the way home with her mother, she made a tentative foray. “So what did you talk about with the women?” she asked. “Was everyone there?”
Her mother blinked. “Of course. I mean, the hostess was in and out, getting dessert ready.”
Emily swallowed. Could it really have been Emma? She felt herself getting hard again and quickly tried to think about baseball.
“I suppose that was a good thing, since the moment she left the room the girls started gossiping about her.”
“What… what did they say?”
“It was all very impolite.” Elizabeth paused and glanced slyly over at Emily. “They said that her husband wants to have a child, but they’ve been having some trouble. Some people suggested that she is lying to him and still taking her… precautions.”
Emily went pale.
---
That morning Emma docked as bold as brass onto Emily’s favorite kahvehane and ordered decaffeinated coffee. Emily set her cup down on the table and stood up. She caught the back of Emma’s arm above her elbow and dragged her into the women’s bathroom.
Emma, not impressed and showing it, leaned back against the sink and raised an eyebrow. “Emily. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“How could you use me like that?”
Emma blinked slowly, like a snake. “Like what?”
“How could you make me fuck you?”
Emma’s face changed and she snarled her response. “It wasn’t hard, darling. I don’t recall you complaining.”
Emily closed her eyes. “Why? Are you… did you…?”
“Hold your horses. I don’t know yet. I’m not a fucking easy-bake oven.”
“But that was why. That was why you did it.”
Emma frowned and looked away. “Yes. It was.”
“Why me?”
“Why you?” Emma shook her head. “Isn’t it obvious? No one is going to look at you and guess. You dropped the opportunity right into my lap and expected me not to take it? Of course it's possible someone could figure it out if they think hard enough. But no one’s going to, because you are going to keep your fucking mouth closed. I don’t have to go through hell, and Scott never has to admit his impotence. Everybody wins.”
“Except me.” Emily looked away. Except me.
“Oh, come on. You got the best fuck of your life. Just take it and move on.”
Emily wasn’t quite certain why, but her eyes were tearing up and she wanted to cry. She was afraid it showed.
“Hey…”
“It’s fine! Just go!” Emily turned away from her, trying to hide the tears coursing down her face. “Just go.”
Emma’s hand cupped her cheek and turned her back to face her. Then she kissed her.
It was long and slow and aching. Emily slid her fingers into silky baby-fine hair and kissed her back.
Finally Emma broke it off and stepped towards the door. She paused with her hand on the knob.
“Sometimes things just happen.” She gave Emily a long look with no lies on her face. “You don’t have to make them mean anything.”
She walked out of the bathroom.
When Emily finished wiping away all the signs of her tears, she was gone, and Emily sat back down to her cold coffee and waited. She didn’t know what for.
Part 2
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: NC-17
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Word Count: 2588
Prompt: 028. Anonymous
Apologies: This is porn. Futuristic AU porn and nothing else. (At some point I will write a Doctor-Who X-over and then we will all be sorry.) Warning: Transgender sex (so tg it verges on het, so watch out).
Emily hadn’t wanted to go to the dinner party as a man, but her mother had freaked out when her escort had bailed at the last moment and told her that she had to come, but she couldn’t upset the male-female balance. That was how she ended up stepping into her mother’s newfangled sex-change machine, and coming out with a cock.
The chest hair was a problem, she considered, but her long smooth cock, uncut, was perfectly fine. It just didn’t really fit in her usual pants.
Luckily her mother had rented a suit for her escort, and it would fit Emily’s altered frame. But she balked at wearing her mother’s lover’s underwear. She went without. The cut of the tux was quite nice, and she tied her hair back. She looked good and knew it.
Her mother rolled her eyes at her swagger and introduced her as her nephew who had just come back from the Venezuelan colony on Razmataria.
It was interesting to be a lesbian in a man’s body. All the straight women noticed her, giving her dark looks, even when they wore rings on their fingers.
Jean Worthington flirted with her. Katherine Rasputina blushed whenever she walked by. Both of their husbands were completely oblivious. Only the hostess, Emma Summers, seemed to see through the change. She gave her an appraising look, then smirked into her hand, amused. (They had gone to the same cadet training program although they never socialized in the same circles, and Emily wasn’t particularly surprised at being recognized. Emma always noticed things that could be used to humiliate her. It was natural.)
It was a very posh do. The table they were all seated at was narrow, but it didn’t need to be wide, because robotic footmen carried the dishes around and served the wine. Emily, seated between two beautiful women who were paying her more attention than she was used to, let the wine go to her head, and was enjoying herself immensely.
It was just innocent flirting, she thought, until the second course when she felt a foot in her lap. She couldn’t tell whose it was. Probably three women could reach and two of them were making eyes at her. (Emma wasn’t. She was speaking with the man next to her, very engaged and intent.) The foot, bare and smooth, ran over the crotch of her pants, stroking her unaccustomed dick. It stiffened slightly, and Emily wished she had just worn those underwear. She could feel herself tenting the fabric of her tuxedo pants. The foot kept up its slow torture, running along the length of it, digging into her balls, almost painfully, but never more than enough to turn her on even more.
Emily barely made it through the main course without bolting. She couldn’t close her legs. It was humiliating, but she really didn’t want it to stop. (If it did she knew she’d have to wait for a distraction and run to jerk off. It wasn’t going down.)
And then dragging her from her aroused humiliation was the announcement that it was time for the men to have their brandy and smokeless cigars, and the women would go off and have coffee. Emily gave her mother a look. She hated cigars, and would much rather have coffee, not that she was going anywhere with her pants distended the way they were.
The foot slipped out of her lap, and the women left.
Emily’s cock ached and pained her every time she shifted in her chair. It was probably a bad idea to try and stroke off under the table, she considered. She refused a cigar. The men were laughing, talking disrespectfully about one of their wives who wouldn’t put out enough. Emily shifted uncomfortably. It was obviously not the one who had had her foot in her lap.
Then the talk turned to children. Warren and Peter both had two. Both Emily and her erection felt like an impostor.
Then she felt a hand cup her crotch. There was someone under the table.
It was a feminine hand. What woman would dare to do this with her husband two chairs down? The foot was excusable, but this-
The hand unfastened her pants and pulled out her cock. Skin to skin was so different from the frottage from before. Whatever deflation had occurred in the interim was gone now. The fingers pulled back her foreskin and teased the head. Then something warm and wet flicked against it, and Emily sat straight up. That was a tongue!
She had thought she was hard before, but that was nothing compared to this. Lips wrapped around the head of her cock, the tongue flicking her slit, the woman sucked, and Emily was sure she was going to come right there.
Just when she knew she was a moment away from ejaculating all over this woman’s face, the hand tucked her rock-hard cock down the leg of her pants and fastened her up, giving her balls an absent-minded squeeze as she did so.
In an unidentifiable whisper, “upstairs, first door on the right,” the woman whispered, and suddenly all trace of her presence was gone.
Emily counted to forty-two before she couldn’t stand it any longer, made an excuse about the bathroom, and slipped away from the table, turning her body so that hopefully her turgid cock would not be visible.
There were too many stairs, but she galloped up them, desperate for release. (If no one was there she would just jack off as many times as it took to make this monster go down. There was no other choice.)
The room behind the first door to the right was pitch black. But in the light from the doorway she could see the glimmer of a white ass and thighs. The woman was kneeling on the bed, naked, her head down, arms over it, so she still could not see her face or the color of her hair. But she could easily see the red flush of her pussy.
“Close the door.”
Emily obeyed, and the darkness was complete again. Blind, she stripped off her tux, her rigid cock nearly making her tear the trousers. When she was naked she stepped forward until her hands touched smooth skin and ran over the woman’s ass cheeks. She bent, dropping to her knees, ignoring the pleas of her cock to just ram it home, and slipped her tongue into the woman’s slit. She was lush and moist, and responded to the long stokes of Emily’s tongue with a shuddering moan.
God, Emily couldn’t decide which was more erotic, the fact that this was actually happening, or the possibility that it could be with anybody. She played with the woman’s clit as she tongue fucked her until she came with a gasp and a rush of fluid. Emily pressed two fingers into her. They went in smoothly, and she stood up. Her hands ran along the sides of this woman, touching her skin, the only way of seeing she had, and wondering who it was she was about to fuck.
She rubbed the head of her cock against the woman’s wet cunt, not yet pushing it in. Her hips jerked a little, encouragement perhaps? She pressed it against her entrance and pushed, infinitesimally slowly, keeping a firm grip on the shaft. When the head was buried inside the woman’s hot, wet passage, she made slow circles with it, stretching her entrance as she fed her cock in, inch by inch.
She heard faint gasped curses as she slid to the hilt, her bony hips flush against the woman’s lush ass.
“Fuck me,” she hissed. “Fuck me now.”
Emily did not need to be asked twice. She drew out, leaving only the head inside and slammed in again, not slow, not easy, knowing she was ramming the woman’s face into the mattress. She cried out, but her hips pushed against Emily’s trying to make the fucking harder.
Emily had been teased all night, and was so ready to get off, that once she started, she knew she couldn’t stop or even slow down until she had come. She started jackhammering the woman, shoving her into the mattress with each stroke. Her hands slid down the woman’s torso until she found her breasts, and kneaded them roughly, knowing she would leave bruises for the woman’s husband to see, but only more aroused by the thought.
The woman made rough gasps at every stroke, and Emily let herself imagine every woman at the party underneath her. Jean’s red hair swirling over the mattress, her gentle power effaced as she was fucked. Kitty’s girlish squeals, that virginal look a mother of two should not be allowed to have, whimpering as she succumbed to her own desires. Or Emma, fuck, she wanted it to be Emma, her disdain and disinterest had always left Emily humiliated. God, she wanted to be fucking the sarcasm out of her, smearing the perfect make up on her cruel smile, making her take it, even if she screamed and begged her not to…
And Emily came, a hot gush of semen pouring out of her. The woman gasped, but held still, letting it fill her up inside. It was the release she had been waiting for all night, and her cock sank gratefully to half-mast.
The woman crawled away, and she let her, sinking to her knees, pressed against the mattress, so relieved, that even the semi-aroused state she remained in was unimportant.
At least it was unimportant until she felt the woman lift her cock, and wrap her lips around it. It was sticky with both their cum, but she still licked it unrepentantly. Emily felt herself harden again, and then the woman started pushing into her, even deeper. The tip of her cock was pressed against the back of the woman’s throat, and still she didn’t stop. Emily thought she was going to cry as she pushed farther down, into the tight channel of her pharynx, and then she swallowed.
When she pulled out, Emily was as hard as she had been a half an hour earlier. The woman guided Emily’s hips between her legs and lay back. Emily knelt on the bed and found the woman’s cunt with her fingers. Then she slotted her cock into position.
She hooked her arms through the woman’s knees and rocked forward, lifting her hips off the bed and pinning her in place. She thrust deeply inside.
Gasping at the hot wet tightness of it, she accidentally knocked her head against the woman’s, causing an unerotic yelp from them both. But she was right there, and Emily leaned in to kiss her.
She started to fuck her, pistoning her hips, slowly at first and then in a faster and faster rhythm. She kept kissing her, tasting the salt of her cum on her lips, and the woman kissed back.
The woman came first, clenching tight around Emily’s cock and causing her to groan and hammer her harder, until she peaked as well, still filling her, but not as much as the first time.
They lay sated and overwhelmed for a moment. Then Emily thought to reach out and touch her hair, if she could know what it felt like, perhaps she would know-
She only had a brush of baby-fine silk over her fingers before the woman smacked her hand and pushed her off, rolling away. A door in a different direction than the one she had come in through opened and closed again, and Emily was alone, cursing herself for ruining the afterglow.
Eventually she got up and turned on the lights. It was a guest room with an ensuite bathroom and she cleaned up as best she could. Embarrassedly she straightened up the rumpled covers (there wasn't anything she could do about the wet spot) and tried to put her bow tie back on. In the end she let it dangle around her neck.
She made it back to the dining room just as the men were getting up to join the women in the parlor for cake. She couldn’t look anyone in the eye, not a husband she might had cuckolded, not a wife she might have fucked.
In the shuttle on the way home with her mother, she made a tentative foray. “So what did you talk about with the women?” she asked. “Was everyone there?”
Her mother blinked. “Of course. I mean, the hostess was in and out, getting dessert ready.”
Emily swallowed. Could it really have been Emma? She felt herself getting hard again and quickly tried to think about baseball.
“I suppose that was a good thing, since the moment she left the room the girls started gossiping about her.”
“What… what did they say?”
“It was all very impolite.” Elizabeth paused and glanced slyly over at Emily. “They said that her husband wants to have a child, but they’ve been having some trouble. Some people suggested that she is lying to him and still taking her… precautions.”
Emily went pale.
---
That morning Emma docked as bold as brass onto Emily’s favorite kahvehane and ordered decaffeinated coffee. Emily set her cup down on the table and stood up. She caught the back of Emma’s arm above her elbow and dragged her into the women’s bathroom.
Emma, not impressed and showing it, leaned back against the sink and raised an eyebrow. “Emily. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“How could you use me like that?”
Emma blinked slowly, like a snake. “Like what?”
“How could you make me fuck you?”
Emma’s face changed and she snarled her response. “It wasn’t hard, darling. I don’t recall you complaining.”
Emily closed her eyes. “Why? Are you… did you…?”
“Hold your horses. I don’t know yet. I’m not a fucking easy-bake oven.”
“But that was why. That was why you did it.”
Emma frowned and looked away. “Yes. It was.”
“Why me?”
“Why you?” Emma shook her head. “Isn’t it obvious? No one is going to look at you and guess. You dropped the opportunity right into my lap and expected me not to take it? Of course it's possible someone could figure it out if they think hard enough. But no one’s going to, because you are going to keep your fucking mouth closed. I don’t have to go through hell, and Scott never has to admit his impotence. Everybody wins.”
“Except me.” Emily looked away. Except me.
“Oh, come on. You got the best fuck of your life. Just take it and move on.”
Emily wasn’t quite certain why, but her eyes were tearing up and she wanted to cry. She was afraid it showed.
“Hey…”
“It’s fine! Just go!” Emily turned away from her, trying to hide the tears coursing down her face. “Just go.”
Emma’s hand cupped her cheek and turned her back to face her. Then she kissed her.
It was long and slow and aching. Emily slid her fingers into silky baby-fine hair and kissed her back.
Finally Emma broke it off and stepped towards the door. She paused with her hand on the knob.
“Sometimes things just happen.” She gave Emily a long look with no lies on her face. “You don’t have to make them mean anything.”
She walked out of the bathroom.
When Emily finished wiping away all the signs of her tears, she was gone, and Emily sat back down to her cold coffee and waited. She didn’t know what for.
Part 2