Naughty Mrs Clause

Aaron Hotchner sighed as he walked down the stairs having just snuggled his son into bed. He'd return the boy to his mother the next day around noon, but for now, he had something else in mind and it all had to do with Emily Prentiss.

It had started slow, their relationship, one simply checking up on the other following their case in New York. Then there had been the case in Colorado with Cyrus and he'd simply aimed to return the favour. It went from there, time after time after time. But that had been almost a year ago now and their relationship had done nothing but grow since it had started and the next thing Hotch could remember was the first night he'd stayed at her place. That had been a night to remember and he did, all the time.

Emily had told him time and time again that she often felt like the luckiest woman in the world. She adored him and he argued that no, he was the lucky one. They had the most stereotypical and clichéd arguments he could ever remember, but he knew he'd fallen head over heels for her. And she, apparently, for him.

So he'd invited her to spend Christmas Eve with him and Jack. Much to his relief, she'd said yes. And it had been quite the night. He'd allowed Jack to open some of his presents and the little boy had been over the moon. Even Emily had bought him something and Jack had been excited at the trains he had to add to his growing set at his father's.

Now though, Jack was asleep, his door closed and Hotch had every intention of celebrating with Emily. He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way into the living room.

Where he was greeted by quite the sight.

Red caught his eye first, a colour he always associated with the woman wearing it. She always looked fantastic in red. His eyes shot to her feet then, taking in the sparkling red stilettos on her feet then up her toned legs, showed to their perfection between the heels and how wshe was bent over fixing things under the tree. She wore a cute, very short, pleated red skirt with white trim and he could see white lace underneath it. Her back was bare, which meant her stomach probably was too, that trim stomach that he absolutely adored running his hands over. Her curls cascaded down her back as she stood up right and he could see the little Santa had perched on her head.

He came up behind her, his hand starting on her hips and sliding up her sides until they cupped her breasts. She arched into him immediately, smiling.

"This is a surprise," he murmured, pressing a hungry kiss to the side of her neck.

"A good one, I hope," she murmured back

"Mmm." He pressed his hips into her barely covered ass. "You tell me."

She chuckled, a low sound that he only ever heard in the bedroom. "I'd say this is a very good surprise for you."

"Mmhmm," he responded, his fingers kneading her breasts through her bra and whatever else was over it. His fingers trailed over the edge until they met on the knot between her breasts. "What is this?"

"The perfect way to unwrap your Christmas present," she replied, tilting her head back to rest on his shoulder.

He took in her scent with a pleased groan. "Early Christmas present. And a fantastic early Christmas present."

Emily laughed as she turned in Hotch's arms. "I'm glad you like it."

He kissed her, slowly, thoroughly, until he could feel her knees collapse beneath him. It was only then that the hand he'd had curved around her neck wrapped around her neck, the other one tangling more effectively in her hair to keep her upright.

She moaned as she leaned into him, one leg wrapping around his hip so her heel brushed against the back of his opposite knee. His hand trailed down that thigh until it grasped her knee. Then it came back up, slower, lightly, going under her skirt and tracing the lacy edge he found there. Emily's hands found some way to get between them, pulling up his t-shirt until it went over his head. He left it at the bottom of the tree as he lifted her under her ass until she wrapped the other leg around him.

He had no idea how he made it up the stairs. What he did know was that he made it to the bed only having to stop once to press her against the wall and get his hands on as much of her skin as he possibly could. Finally, he got her to his rather large bed. Her legs fell apart as he stood between them and she fell back on the bed. He was awed as her dark curls spread out around her on the blankets, the hat still happily on her head. He took it off carefully, dropping it on the floor beside the bed.

He bent over and kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth as his body came back on top of hers. He pulled away to see the front of her, the way white lace showed above the red velvet the rest of her top was made of. There was indeed a knot between her breasts. A jacket tied on top of what was evidently a white lace bra. The sleeves were short, trimmed with the same white as her skirt. As he looked her over again, he noticed the same tie in her skirt.

"What brought this on?" he asked softly, just at her ear. He nipped at the lobe, going down her neck with lips and tongue.

She groaned and her back arched. "Christmas."

He laughed softly, wickedly. "I like Christmas."

"Well, you've been such a good boy."

Hotch pulled back again, kissing down her collarbone until his lips pressed gently right between her breasts. He pushed against her when her fingers trailed along his jeans, the one pair he owned. Then his fingers went to the knot in her shirt. She arched as his fingers stroked her skin at every pass. She sat up, helping him only a little to take off her jacket. Then she moved back pushing herself to her knees and moving into the middle of the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, recognizing the playful look on her face. The bra was indeed white lace, low cut, low enough to all but hide beneath the red she'd been previously encased in. It was her fingers that untied the knot in her skirt, her fingers that unwrapped the skirt until she was left in only white lace. And those killer heels. "I see."

"You're overdressed," she told him, her eyes beckoning to him nonetheless.

He chuckled as he pulled off his socks and did away with his pants. Who was he to deny this woman? This goddess in front of him, as clichéd as it was, was all his mind could focus on. And for good reason. He had her on her back in seconds, but she flipped them before he could settle against her completely. She pinned his hands by his head and though she wasn't strong enough to hold him, she followed it almost immediately with a kiss that melted his brain. He'd let her have her fun.

And she certainly had fun in mind with the way her lips crept down his chest, placing playful kisses on his skin. Her fingers did away with his boxers, pushing them down his thighs as her body followed. Her mouth engulfed him without warning and his head pushed back into the pillows. She knew how to play him to the hilt and she did every chance she could.

Emily was white to Haley's black, the opposite of the woman Hotch had been married to since he could remember. She was, after all, his high school sweetheart. Emily, on the other hand, never expected more from him than he could give. She never expected him to be there for her when she was struggling herself. He tried, but more often than not, they struggled together. It was another thing that he adored about the woman who was making him see stars.

She knew him too well. She knew exactly when to pull away, right when he needed her the most. He could taste himself on her as she rose above him, holding her body away but kissing him like a lifeline. He took advantage of her raised ass to push her panties over her hips and down her legs. They stopped at her knees and he felt her move off of him for a split second before she came back, pressing herself against him. The bra went next, something he could take care of largely without her help. His hands cupped, squeezed, pinched, stroked until Emily had to break the kiss to throw back her head.

Then Hotch applied his mouth, knowing exactly what to do to have her at his mercy. But it was Emily that reached for the condom, sliding it on him before impaling herself. Groaning as she slid him home. Sex between them never ceased to be phenomenal and he never got used to the feeling of her around him. It always felt too good. He had a number of things he talked himself through when he was inside her, to keep himself from letting go too early.

But there were days he just didn't want to. There were days intensity got too much for him and his fingers found a home between her thighs and stroked her. Emily fell forward, her fingers clenching in the pillow by Hotch's head. What was it about this man that had her completely losing her brain? What was it about this man that made her forget everything but his name? For that's all she could say, over and over and over.

Finally, with one last stroke of his callused finger, she bit into his shoulder to muffle her cries and arched hard against him. He followed her over, pulling her against him with tight, strong arms. She sighed against him as she came down from her high, reminding herself to breathe.

He kissed her cheek. "Mmmm."

She chuckled against him. "I agree."

He turned, taking her with him, cuddling her against him and pulling the quilt up from the bottom of the bed. "This is my favourite part."

"Mmhmm, but we're going to have to put clothes on, Hotch," she said, even as her eyes fell closed. "If Jack wakes up..." She cut herself off with a large yawn.

"Later." He too was falling asleep and falling asleep quickly. It was a side effect of sex, and, most importantly, sex with Emily Prentiss. It tired him out better than anything else and was infinitely more satisfying than the regular case exhaustion.

"Hotch, I'm serious."

"So am I. I'm too tired."

Her eyes turned wicked. "Oh?"

Hotch rolled her underneath him with a laugh. "There's always an exception."

"Always," she smiled, accepting his kiss with vigour.