Emily Prentiss One Shots

Hotel Nights

TW: smut

The way her hair felt between your fingers was electric — soft, smooth, alive. Her breath traced fire down your neck, sending shivers racing through your skin. The air smelled faintly of hotel linens and rain, the kind of scent that clung to memory long after it should have faded.

You didn't remember who moved first, only that you'd stopped pretending restraint meant control. She kissed feverishly down your neck, eliciting soft moans from you. You tore your hands from her head to start unbuttoning her shirt.

Walking into the bullpen that morning still made your stomach twist. You knew exactly where she'd be. Perched on her desk beside Reid, gesturing wildly as she told some story that made him chuckle quietly. Her black hair fell over her shoulders, shining under the fluorescent lights, and your heart betrayed you by skipping a beat.

Your heels clicked louder than you remembered. Too loud.

"Oh, hey, Y/N! Reid's got a new joke!" Morgan called, his grin giving away nothing, but Emily's eyes found you instantly. She looked you over once, slow enough to make your pulse quicken, her teeth catching on her bottom lip before she schooled her expression. That tiny motion nearly undid you.

You crossed the room, trying to act casual. "So, what's the joke?" you asked, hopping onto Morgan's desk and swinging your legs.

Reid began, "An orange and an apple walk into a bar—"

"Sorry to interrupt," JJ said, stepping through the bullpen doors, "but Hotch wants us in the round table room."

No case file in her hands. No tone of urgency. You exchanged a confused glance with all of them.

She pushed you back onto the hard hotel bed, and you let out a grunt at the pain that shot up your spine that quickly melted into a moan.

She pulled at your shirt, and you sat up to take it off as she helped you out of your pants. She straddled you and kissed down your chest, leaving marks with her teeth as she worked her way down, stopping at your bra line. You arched into her, and she pressed your back down into the mattress.

You sat at the table, tension humming just beneath the quiet. Hotch entered empty-handed, his expression unreadable.

"This case is off the books," he began. "We'll work from here, under the radar. Officially, it doesn't exist."

JJ handed out thin files. "Our unsub targets male strippers," she said, her voice crisp but uneasy. "Kills them methodically — mutilation, control, precision."

You tried to focus on the photographs, the evidence, the pattern but she was sitting across from you. Emily's hand rested on the table, fingers tracing slow circles against the wood. Absentminded, rhythmic... hypnotic.

You looked up and caught her watching you.

You looked away first.

You bucked your hips against her face. She was going at a torturous rate with two fingers, circling your clit as she licked up your wetness. "Emily, please." She looked up at you, and you moaned at the sight of her between your legs: dark hair pooling around her, eyes locked on you.

"Prentiss. Y/L/N. File room," Hotch ordered. "You two will pull the physical copies Garcia flagged. Don't let BRASS see the search."

You stood quickly, heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the assignment. The elevator doors slid shut, trapping you in that small space with her.

"Y/N-" she started softly.

"Emily," you interrupted, pressing the button for the basement. "Can we not do this right now?"

Her sigh was quiet but sharp. "If I'm such a regret," she murmured, stepping closer, "why do I still see the marks you left every time I look in the mirror?"

The elevator chimed, cutting through the silence. You didn't answer. You couldn't.

Ding.

The ring of the elevator rang out in the hallway, Morgan stepping off, exhausted from the case. As he headed down the hall he heard giggling and shushing.

"Shush, we'll get caught." He knew Emily's voice from miles away. He shook it off—you and Prentiss were always up to something. Her speed never slowed as Morgan walked down the hall and into his room. Her hand over your throat to keep you quiet. She removed her hand and quickened her pace, sending you over the edge, legs trembling as she kissed your neck softly as you came down.

The file room door clicked shut behind you, sealing you both in a space that felt suddenly too small. The hum of fluorescent lights filled the air. The silence loaded with everything unsaid between you.

"If you check behind me we'll find it faster," you said, trying to focus. "I miss things."

She didn't move. "You always miss the obvious," she teased lightly.

When you finally turned to look at her, she was closer — close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off her skin. "Emily..." you whispered, but your voice caught.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up. "You drive me insane," she said quietly. "Coming to work like nothing happened... watching you laugh across the room like you didn't once—" She stopped herself, "Looking at you turns me on, Y/n." She said it like a truth she was ashamed to carry.

Your breath hitched. The words hung there, unfinished, charged.

"Em," you said softly, stepping forward. "Then stop pretending."

Breathless, she collapsed beside you, pulling you towards her. She pressed a kiss to your hairline, "You're beautiful."

You curled into her, laying in the moment for a few minutes silently.

She sat up, a worried look spreading across her face. You sat up and looked at her. "What's wrong, Em?"

She shook her head. "We... I— I can't do this. Can we act like this never happened?"

A pang hit your heart. "Uh, yeah." You laid back down and pulled her back into your chest. "Just let me hold you tonight." She nodded and melted into your arms.

The air between you broke like a wire snapping. Her hand found your jaw, tentative, trembling. You closed the last inch of space. The kiss was soft at first — questioning, remembering — then deeper, desperate. Her fingers tangled in your hair as yours slipped around her waist, holding her like you'd been waiting to breathe.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the quiet. The scent of paper, ink, and her perfume wrapped around you.

"Let me hold you forever," you whispered, the words falling out before you could stop them.

Emily smiled, that soft, secret kind of smile that meant trouble. "You have no idea what you're asking," she whispered back.

But she kissed you again anyway.