Hellfire 10
Title: Hellfire (10/12) (Sequel to Human)
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Apologies: Climax! But I'm rescinding my promise of sex. If there is a plot, I just can't do it. Maybe a sidestory later.
Summary: Emma's an X-man now, but she wasn't always fighting for truth, justice, and peaceful-coexistence. Emily has had a taste of her past, but is she ready to meet the White Queen?
Emma stumbled down the stairs, running thought the halls. Christ, she had been such an idiot to let her go alone. The door was locked. She jerked the handle, jerked it again, and felt an odd click, as if she had forced it open with solely her will, and it swung open. She strode in as if she were Napoleon, and it was such a lie. But the room she walked into was a theatre, and it was used to such lies.
There was Sebastian, standing by the stage, and smiling, far too happy. A few others she knew too well, the rest, a scant touch of her mind was enough to know that she didn’t want to know them.
“Emma! Finally. We were waiting for you.”
And then she looked up, and nearly killed him where he stood.
Emily hung from the flies on the stage, naked, blindfolded and bound. The ropes were tied in kinbaku style, forming her body into an aesthetic shape, marking her back and hips into diamonds. Her breasts were outlined into prominence, her wrists entwined and locked behind her, her body twisted into a cocoon of red vinyl and pale skin.
“Take her down,” Emma said, so softly, but the room was quiveringly quiet enough for everyone to hear her. “You have no right to play with her this way.”
They had done something to her mind. She wasn’t unconscious, but she wasn’t afraid either, a little foggy, but responding warmly to Emma’s scan. Drugs, probably.
“But Emma, it’s her turn,” Sebastian whined.
“You dare to play with my pet?!” Emma strode up to him and shoved him, sending him reeling against the edge of the stage. He straightened up, eyes growing dark.
“You know better than that, Emma. You know better than to prime me.” But he raised his hand, and Emma heard the squeaks of the pulleys as someone worked the flies to lower Emily to the stage. “And if I remember correctly,” Sebastian continued. “You gave up your claim to her.” He smiled cruelly. “And since she wishes to take her seat, she must be initiated.”
“I gave up my claim so you would leave her alone. If you’re bringing her into this, I’m taking her back!”
“I can’t let you do that, Emma.”
It was a voice she never wanted to hear, not here, not anywhere. It sent sharp prickles across her shoulders, and she straightened, fighting the sick response in her gut. She looked up. Her father stood on the stage, behind Emily, who had settled limply onto her knees. His hand rested on her head, his fingers moving in spider-like waves against her cheek, one dragging down her lower lip as it moved over her face.
“She’s a human,” he continued. “I hate to do this, claiming such a useless thrall, but if you are going to make yourself vulnerable, I will make the sacrifice.”
For a moment she was frozen. It could already be too late. Once he took her, enslaved her, there was no way to bring her back. She didn’t move, just stared directly into her father’s too familiar eyes.
“Get your filthy hands off of her. She is mine!”
And she reached out. Lorne’s mind was an empty shell, from being her father’s thrall for so long, easily manipulable. And he had grabbed her father by his collar, dragging him back, a knife pressed so tightly against his throat that a slight trickle of red ran down his neck and stained his white shirt.
He didn’t flinch. He stood there with a blade to his throat, staring disapprovingly at her, as if she were twelve, and he were evaluating just another of her failures. And this was just another failure, a real failure, not mediocre grades or a lack of an ability to make friends with the right people. This was her failing to protect the people she cared for. It was the only challenge that really mattered, and the only one she could never, ever surmount.
“You would threaten me for her?”
“I would kill you for her,” she said, emotionlessly. “I would kill you for stepping on an ant, father. I have no love for you.”
“I am only trying to protect you.”
“When have you ever protected me?” Emma shook her head, not quite willing to laugh at that absurdity. “I am more powerful than you, because I rejected your help. I am better than you, because I left you behind, and you may have destroyed half of the people I have cared for in this world, but I will not watch you rape her.”
“Oh, has little Emma gotten squeamish in her old age?” said Sebastian with a laugh. “You were going to bring your pretty student here. You wanted to see her innocence ripped away, you wanted to help.”
That had been true enough. She had been drunk on the power that she could gain from making someone love her. That had been strange enough. She had wanted to see how far she could take it, how far she could push that girl, how much of her life she could destroy, and make her turn, inexorably, towards her. Perhaps it was a relief that she hadn’t actually done it, that the girl had turned on her, and fled, betrayed and angry into the arms of the X-Men. But it wasn’t as if she deserved any forgiveness because she hadn’t been able to commit all the vile acts she had wanted to.
“You think I’ve changed?” Emma spoke quietly. He didn’t understand at all, but Sebastian had never been able to see beyond his own desires. He couldn’t understand that her father would always choose power over sex. He would prefer the rush of destroying a man’s mind over any other.
She stepped up onto the stage, cupping her hand around Emily’s head. Emily purred happily, scenting her, she supposed, and leaned into her stomach. Emma stroked her hair as she nuzzled against the hem of her corset.
“You think I don’t want to see her violated?” Emma shook her head at the sad fools. “I love it. I love seeing her gasp, and bleed, and cry. I love seeing the fear in her eyes when I take her somewhere she isn’t certain she wants to go.” She looked at them, sharply. “But that pleasure is mine alone. I don’t play nice, and I don’t share.”
“You’ve never been so possessive with us, Emma,” whined Sebastian.
Emma glanced to him and gave a vague shrug. “I like to break other people’s toys, but you had better not try to touch mine.”
Her father just smiled, his eyes lizard-flat.
Sebastian peered at her, sly and smug. “Did it ever occur to you that this was a test Emma, one that you failed?”
She met Sebastian’s eyes, her own just as hard and cruel. “You don’t have the right to test me.”
“I do when you’re making a fool of yourself over a human.” Sebastian shook his head. “Her pedigree is decent enough, but until she’s one of us, truly one of us, you are doing nothing but bringing shame onto our reputation.”
“Has it ever crossed your mind that I might not care?”
“Emma,” Sebastian pleaded. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself. Stop pretending that this isn’t what you want. I know you. I’ve known you for far longer than most. I can understand why you joined those prissy do-gooders. I can even understand why you left us for that ghastly doomed island. And she’s… pretty enough, though not up to your usual standards, Emma, but once she’s Hellfire, no one is going to be afraid of her, or think you’re weak. Everyone will know she’s your pet, she can be a rook if you want, and all you have to do is share, just this once.”
Emma turned to her father. “Will this satisfy you too? Will putting her through this make her somehow worthy? Will you leave her alone?”
He smiled, and she could read exactly what he wasn’t saying in his eyes. All he wanted was to make her bend, remind her that he still could control her, more than ten years after she had left home, walked out of his sphere of influence to do nothing but free herself from him, from his wishes and his demands. Did he think she was going to back down now? Her hand tightened on the back of Emily’s head, and she made a soft mewl of protest.
“Fuck you all.”
She saw the flare of anger in her father’s eyes.
“She needs to be initiated,” snapped Sebastian. “I am the new Lord Imperial, and she came here voluntarily.” He glanced nervously over at her father. “And I promised, for the money…”
Sebastian had never been afraid of making a deal with the devil, not even this one, it seemed.
“I will handle it.” Emma said, as she lifted Emily to her feet, and wrapped her in her cloak, ignoring the drugged woman’s interest in her breasts. “You’ve already made it easy enough, haven’t you? Will she remember anything tomorrow?”
“It’s a new formula.” Sebastian smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “It shouldn’t interfere with her memory. What’s the point of humiliating someone if they forget about it?”
Emma smiled tightly. “So true.” She caught Emily up, carrying her as if she were a featherweight, and turned towards the doors at the back. She knew the signs for the private rooms, and there at least, she could make certain the drugs wore off in peace.
“I will not let you shame me like this!” her father roared. She could hear him lunge for her back. She stood still, eyes half closed, and the sounds stopped. He froze.
Emma breathed in, containing her anger, staying in control, and she glanced over her shoulder, fixing him with a harsh glare. His eyes were wide and stunned, and he was clearly not looking anything in the room. “I am not a child,” she said softly. “Because you are my blood I cannot destroy you with my mind, but if you ever come near her again, I will murder you, just like I did with Adrienne. You should know by now, I do not care about blood on my hands.”
And she carried Emily down the stage steps and toward the door.
She had given him her memories of her sister’s death, given him her anger and Adrienne’s fear, and then how it had felt to feel her die, her mind, tortured and anguished, suffocating, and then gone. It had taken a few moments longer for her heart to stop beating. She could not enter his mind, she could not violate it, but she could still show him the truth.
* * *
She carried Emily into one of the rooms meant for private, or at least comfortable, assignations, and locked the door. It was well appointed, as was expected of Sebastian’s obsession with the baroque. She wondered how much of the money he had borrowed from her father had been spent on remodeling this club. It had been a modern ugly hole of a nightclub the last time she had visited.
She untangled the knots that kept Emily’s wrists attached to her ankles, and let her feet drop to the floor. She stood under her own power, though still leaning into Emma’s chest.
Emma untied the blindfold and slipped it from her eyes.
“Hey.”
Emily blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the dim light cast by the branching candles and the low fire in the brazier. “Hey.”
Emma started untying the knots. Emily stood still, looking calm and soft from the drugs.
“I met your father tonight.”
“I know,” Emma snorted.
“I thought…” Emily seemed to consider this, her head tipped to the side like a child. “I thought you broke up with me. Why am I meeting your family?”
Emma shook her head, and ran her hands over the indentations in her skin, trying to smooth them out. “Because they’re clearly insane. And they wanted to meet you.”
“Your sister’s dead,” Emily added, almost conversationally.
“Yes, she is.”
“You shot her in the head.” It wasn’t an accusation, more of a plea. The conflict in her words was blatant and almost desperate. What response could she give?
“Yes, I did,” Emma said softly, closing her eyes.
Emily blinked a few times, as if she were starting to cry. “I don’t know what to do with you.” She took a harsh breath. “I don’t understand who you are.”
Emma slipped her arms around her and stroked her hair. Emily leaned into her without hesitation. “I’m a bad person,” she said softly. “I do bad things. I have bad thoughts… about you.” And there were so many of them, all different kinds, too many dark fantasies where she held her down, wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t let her pull away, her hand on her throat until she lay still.
Emily blinked up at her, rubbing the tears from her eyes with her fist. “I have bad thoughts about you too.”
Emma smiled and brushed her lips against Emily’s cheek. “You do tell me what I like to hear.”
Emily looked at her for a long moment, and Emma wondered if she the drugs made her innocent enough to miss the innuendo, and say what those thoughts really were. It would be too easy to slide inside of her and find out. Were they about fixing her? Or about putting her away and binding her up so she couldn’t hurt anyone, couldn’t hurt herself, anymore? But she didn’t want to know. Emily finally smiled softly and arched in her arms, lifting onto her toes and pressing their bodies together. Her eyes shut and she made a soft little noise like acquiescence.
It was probably wrong to fuck your ex when she was high on aphrodisiacs and had just admitted that she was afraid you were an unrepentant murderer. But Emma put the emphasis on unrepentant, and she slid her hands down Emily’s back and over her thighs, lifting her, and laying her gently down on the bed. Emma knelt between her legs, hovering over her, almost close enough to kiss, but stayed still and just watched her.
“Will you be here when I wake up?” Emily asked wonderingly.
“Do you want me to be?”
Emily gave her a cutely confused look. “Yes,” she said, as if such a silly question did not need to be asked.
“Then I will.”
Emily buried her fingers in the fur of her collar and pulled her down. She kissed her, wetly and easily, open mouthed, with a slight clash of teeth. Her fingers found the laces of the corset and burrowed beneath them. “Good,” she whispered. “I have too many dirty thoughts for just one night.”
Emma let herself kiss the soft flesh of her neck and pushed away the knowledge that Emily probably wouldn’t be so pleased to see her tomorrow.
It felt wrong to like this Emily, so sweet and pliant, who burrowed into her body, just gave a little moan when she stretched her too far, who touched, never afraid of rejection, never even conceiving of it.
This Emily was one who took her promises at face value, and didn’t expect her to lie. But everything they were was a lie. Emily had known that before, and their coming together had always been a little desperate, a little broken because of it. Emma could tell her stories and promise forever, but Emily could never believe it, and half their touches were begging to be able to forget that this was nothing, that it would always be nothing.
But this Emily didn’t see right through her and for a little while at least Emma could allow herself to believe her own lies.
* * *
Part 11
Author: Alsike
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Rating: R
AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.
Apologies: Climax! But I'm rescinding my promise of sex. If there is a plot, I just can't do it. Maybe a sidestory later.
Summary: Emma's an X-man now, but she wasn't always fighting for truth, justice, and peaceful-coexistence. Emily has had a taste of her past, but is she ready to meet the White Queen?
Emma stumbled down the stairs, running thought the halls. Christ, she had been such an idiot to let her go alone. The door was locked. She jerked the handle, jerked it again, and felt an odd click, as if she had forced it open with solely her will, and it swung open. She strode in as if she were Napoleon, and it was such a lie. But the room she walked into was a theatre, and it was used to such lies.
There was Sebastian, standing by the stage, and smiling, far too happy. A few others she knew too well, the rest, a scant touch of her mind was enough to know that she didn’t want to know them.
“Emma! Finally. We were waiting for you.”
And then she looked up, and nearly killed him where he stood.
Emily hung from the flies on the stage, naked, blindfolded and bound. The ropes were tied in kinbaku style, forming her body into an aesthetic shape, marking her back and hips into diamonds. Her breasts were outlined into prominence, her wrists entwined and locked behind her, her body twisted into a cocoon of red vinyl and pale skin.
“Take her down,” Emma said, so softly, but the room was quiveringly quiet enough for everyone to hear her. “You have no right to play with her this way.”
They had done something to her mind. She wasn’t unconscious, but she wasn’t afraid either, a little foggy, but responding warmly to Emma’s scan. Drugs, probably.
“But Emma, it’s her turn,” Sebastian whined.
“You dare to play with my pet?!” Emma strode up to him and shoved him, sending him reeling against the edge of the stage. He straightened up, eyes growing dark.
“You know better than that, Emma. You know better than to prime me.” But he raised his hand, and Emma heard the squeaks of the pulleys as someone worked the flies to lower Emily to the stage. “And if I remember correctly,” Sebastian continued. “You gave up your claim to her.” He smiled cruelly. “And since she wishes to take her seat, she must be initiated.”
“I gave up my claim so you would leave her alone. If you’re bringing her into this, I’m taking her back!”
“I can’t let you do that, Emma.”
It was a voice she never wanted to hear, not here, not anywhere. It sent sharp prickles across her shoulders, and she straightened, fighting the sick response in her gut. She looked up. Her father stood on the stage, behind Emily, who had settled limply onto her knees. His hand rested on her head, his fingers moving in spider-like waves against her cheek, one dragging down her lower lip as it moved over her face.
“She’s a human,” he continued. “I hate to do this, claiming such a useless thrall, but if you are going to make yourself vulnerable, I will make the sacrifice.”
For a moment she was frozen. It could already be too late. Once he took her, enslaved her, there was no way to bring her back. She didn’t move, just stared directly into her father’s too familiar eyes.
“Get your filthy hands off of her. She is mine!”
And she reached out. Lorne’s mind was an empty shell, from being her father’s thrall for so long, easily manipulable. And he had grabbed her father by his collar, dragging him back, a knife pressed so tightly against his throat that a slight trickle of red ran down his neck and stained his white shirt.
He didn’t flinch. He stood there with a blade to his throat, staring disapprovingly at her, as if she were twelve, and he were evaluating just another of her failures. And this was just another failure, a real failure, not mediocre grades or a lack of an ability to make friends with the right people. This was her failing to protect the people she cared for. It was the only challenge that really mattered, and the only one she could never, ever surmount.
“You would threaten me for her?”
“I would kill you for her,” she said, emotionlessly. “I would kill you for stepping on an ant, father. I have no love for you.”
“I am only trying to protect you.”
“When have you ever protected me?” Emma shook her head, not quite willing to laugh at that absurdity. “I am more powerful than you, because I rejected your help. I am better than you, because I left you behind, and you may have destroyed half of the people I have cared for in this world, but I will not watch you rape her.”
“Oh, has little Emma gotten squeamish in her old age?” said Sebastian with a laugh. “You were going to bring your pretty student here. You wanted to see her innocence ripped away, you wanted to help.”
That had been true enough. She had been drunk on the power that she could gain from making someone love her. That had been strange enough. She had wanted to see how far she could take it, how far she could push that girl, how much of her life she could destroy, and make her turn, inexorably, towards her. Perhaps it was a relief that she hadn’t actually done it, that the girl had turned on her, and fled, betrayed and angry into the arms of the X-Men. But it wasn’t as if she deserved any forgiveness because she hadn’t been able to commit all the vile acts she had wanted to.
“You think I’ve changed?” Emma spoke quietly. He didn’t understand at all, but Sebastian had never been able to see beyond his own desires. He couldn’t understand that her father would always choose power over sex. He would prefer the rush of destroying a man’s mind over any other.
She stepped up onto the stage, cupping her hand around Emily’s head. Emily purred happily, scenting her, she supposed, and leaned into her stomach. Emma stroked her hair as she nuzzled against the hem of her corset.
“You think I don’t want to see her violated?” Emma shook her head at the sad fools. “I love it. I love seeing her gasp, and bleed, and cry. I love seeing the fear in her eyes when I take her somewhere she isn’t certain she wants to go.” She looked at them, sharply. “But that pleasure is mine alone. I don’t play nice, and I don’t share.”
“You’ve never been so possessive with us, Emma,” whined Sebastian.
Emma glanced to him and gave a vague shrug. “I like to break other people’s toys, but you had better not try to touch mine.”
Her father just smiled, his eyes lizard-flat.
Sebastian peered at her, sly and smug. “Did it ever occur to you that this was a test Emma, one that you failed?”
She met Sebastian’s eyes, her own just as hard and cruel. “You don’t have the right to test me.”
“I do when you’re making a fool of yourself over a human.” Sebastian shook his head. “Her pedigree is decent enough, but until she’s one of us, truly one of us, you are doing nothing but bringing shame onto our reputation.”
“Has it ever crossed your mind that I might not care?”
“Emma,” Sebastian pleaded. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself. Stop pretending that this isn’t what you want. I know you. I’ve known you for far longer than most. I can understand why you joined those prissy do-gooders. I can even understand why you left us for that ghastly doomed island. And she’s… pretty enough, though not up to your usual standards, Emma, but once she’s Hellfire, no one is going to be afraid of her, or think you’re weak. Everyone will know she’s your pet, she can be a rook if you want, and all you have to do is share, just this once.”
Emma turned to her father. “Will this satisfy you too? Will putting her through this make her somehow worthy? Will you leave her alone?”
He smiled, and she could read exactly what he wasn’t saying in his eyes. All he wanted was to make her bend, remind her that he still could control her, more than ten years after she had left home, walked out of his sphere of influence to do nothing but free herself from him, from his wishes and his demands. Did he think she was going to back down now? Her hand tightened on the back of Emily’s head, and she made a soft mewl of protest.
“Fuck you all.”
She saw the flare of anger in her father’s eyes.
“She needs to be initiated,” snapped Sebastian. “I am the new Lord Imperial, and she came here voluntarily.” He glanced nervously over at her father. “And I promised, for the money…”
Sebastian had never been afraid of making a deal with the devil, not even this one, it seemed.
“I will handle it.” Emma said, as she lifted Emily to her feet, and wrapped her in her cloak, ignoring the drugged woman’s interest in her breasts. “You’ve already made it easy enough, haven’t you? Will she remember anything tomorrow?”
“It’s a new formula.” Sebastian smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “It shouldn’t interfere with her memory. What’s the point of humiliating someone if they forget about it?”
Emma smiled tightly. “So true.” She caught Emily up, carrying her as if she were a featherweight, and turned towards the doors at the back. She knew the signs for the private rooms, and there at least, she could make certain the drugs wore off in peace.
“I will not let you shame me like this!” her father roared. She could hear him lunge for her back. She stood still, eyes half closed, and the sounds stopped. He froze.
Emma breathed in, containing her anger, staying in control, and she glanced over her shoulder, fixing him with a harsh glare. His eyes were wide and stunned, and he was clearly not looking anything in the room. “I am not a child,” she said softly. “Because you are my blood I cannot destroy you with my mind, but if you ever come near her again, I will murder you, just like I did with Adrienne. You should know by now, I do not care about blood on my hands.”
And she carried Emily down the stage steps and toward the door.
She had given him her memories of her sister’s death, given him her anger and Adrienne’s fear, and then how it had felt to feel her die, her mind, tortured and anguished, suffocating, and then gone. It had taken a few moments longer for her heart to stop beating. She could not enter his mind, she could not violate it, but she could still show him the truth.
* * *
She carried Emily into one of the rooms meant for private, or at least comfortable, assignations, and locked the door. It was well appointed, as was expected of Sebastian’s obsession with the baroque. She wondered how much of the money he had borrowed from her father had been spent on remodeling this club. It had been a modern ugly hole of a nightclub the last time she had visited.
She untangled the knots that kept Emily’s wrists attached to her ankles, and let her feet drop to the floor. She stood under her own power, though still leaning into Emma’s chest.
Emma untied the blindfold and slipped it from her eyes.
“Hey.”
Emily blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the dim light cast by the branching candles and the low fire in the brazier. “Hey.”
Emma started untying the knots. Emily stood still, looking calm and soft from the drugs.
“I met your father tonight.”
“I know,” Emma snorted.
“I thought…” Emily seemed to consider this, her head tipped to the side like a child. “I thought you broke up with me. Why am I meeting your family?”
Emma shook her head, and ran her hands over the indentations in her skin, trying to smooth them out. “Because they’re clearly insane. And they wanted to meet you.”
“Your sister’s dead,” Emily added, almost conversationally.
“Yes, she is.”
“You shot her in the head.” It wasn’t an accusation, more of a plea. The conflict in her words was blatant and almost desperate. What response could she give?
“Yes, I did,” Emma said softly, closing her eyes.
Emily blinked a few times, as if she were starting to cry. “I don’t know what to do with you.” She took a harsh breath. “I don’t understand who you are.”
Emma slipped her arms around her and stroked her hair. Emily leaned into her without hesitation. “I’m a bad person,” she said softly. “I do bad things. I have bad thoughts… about you.” And there were so many of them, all different kinds, too many dark fantasies where she held her down, wouldn’t let her go, wouldn’t let her pull away, her hand on her throat until she lay still.
Emily blinked up at her, rubbing the tears from her eyes with her fist. “I have bad thoughts about you too.”
Emma smiled and brushed her lips against Emily’s cheek. “You do tell me what I like to hear.”
Emily looked at her for a long moment, and Emma wondered if she the drugs made her innocent enough to miss the innuendo, and say what those thoughts really were. It would be too easy to slide inside of her and find out. Were they about fixing her? Or about putting her away and binding her up so she couldn’t hurt anyone, couldn’t hurt herself, anymore? But she didn’t want to know. Emily finally smiled softly and arched in her arms, lifting onto her toes and pressing their bodies together. Her eyes shut and she made a soft little noise like acquiescence.
It was probably wrong to fuck your ex when she was high on aphrodisiacs and had just admitted that she was afraid you were an unrepentant murderer. But Emma put the emphasis on unrepentant, and she slid her hands down Emily’s back and over her thighs, lifting her, and laying her gently down on the bed. Emma knelt between her legs, hovering over her, almost close enough to kiss, but stayed still and just watched her.
“Will you be here when I wake up?” Emily asked wonderingly.
“Do you want me to be?”
Emily gave her a cutely confused look. “Yes,” she said, as if such a silly question did not need to be asked.
“Then I will.”
Emily buried her fingers in the fur of her collar and pulled her down. She kissed her, wetly and easily, open mouthed, with a slight clash of teeth. Her fingers found the laces of the corset and burrowed beneath them. “Good,” she whispered. “I have too many dirty thoughts for just one night.”
Emma let herself kiss the soft flesh of her neck and pushed away the knowledge that Emily probably wouldn’t be so pleased to see her tomorrow.
It felt wrong to like this Emily, so sweet and pliant, who burrowed into her body, just gave a little moan when she stretched her too far, who touched, never afraid of rejection, never even conceiving of it.
This Emily was one who took her promises at face value, and didn’t expect her to lie. But everything they were was a lie. Emily had known that before, and their coming together had always been a little desperate, a little broken because of it. Emma could tell her stories and promise forever, but Emily could never believe it, and half their touches were begging to be able to forget that this was nothing, that it would always be nothing.
But this Emily didn’t see right through her and for a little while at least Emma could allow herself to believe her own lies.
* * *
Part 11