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"You want a tour— I can tell,"
"Call it morbid curiosity,"
Emilia Ochoa knew the moment she offered for RJ to park is old, shit-box of a trailer on company property, that she was completely, and utterly, fucked.
Or, perhaps she knew that fact way before this moment, when she found herself sitting across RJ at a dingy little diner that would give her father heart palpitations the moment he stepped within a five mile radius of it. Arguably, Emi knew even long before that, the moment she spotted RJ on the steps of the court house, staring at a chocolate bar with a look in his eyes that screamed this was it, this is what I've come to, and decided that despite her original goal of the day being ruin his life, that's what you were told, she would at least try to make it up to him in some weird, twisted way that in hindsight only benefited her and is still being help up against her.
Well, held up against her in a very loose way. Emi knows this game— she's lived this game, and she will live this game for the rest of her life. She's perfected the who has what over who, and, well, sue her if she wants to pretend for a moment that she doesn't have the upper hand in every situation that falls in her lap.
RJ was just the woefully unlucky soul that fell subject to her twisted fantasies.
Emi shook her head, eyes scanning across the trailer. From the outside, it had its spots, like someone came at it with a tractor or a heavy duty crane with the sole goal of making it look like it was from the fifties. At this point, had she not known it's tumble into a sinkhole, she would assume RJ had taken it in to fix up some damage from a hail storm. With really, really big hail. Emi cringed. She's trying to be supportive, but, man, was it complicated.
And what was that smell?
At least, on the inside, it looked more put together, likely done sometime around when RJ was starting to move back in, but with the way he was frantically souring the drawers for something, there may not have been much care taken to his rehabilitation here.
"So, uh, what's the rush to move back in here, anyway?" RJ had been keeping a tight lip on the why he needed a new place, from the moment he sheepishly asked if Emi knew of any lots that would be alright with an overnight camper, all the way to the moment she directed him on where to back the trailer into. Something definitely happened, Emi could tell, but she just couldn't figure out what between the hushed phone calls and vague statements about getting out of his ex-wife's pool house. Good for him, maybe, Emi had though, but now, standing around with his deflecting yet again, she was starting to think the 'something happened' was a bad something.
Emi focused her attention back on RJ's wandering hands. He was muttering something about tape, now.
"I don't think tape is gonna fix this place," she mused, watching him sputter out something about a case— of course— and finally he pulled out a roll of black painters tape.
She turned to look at the little area in the back behind a curtain, unease filling her mind at the way the ceiling lurched with every sudden movement either of them made in the trailer. The rood looked as if it would cave in at any moment. Dear lord.
Emi whipped her head back around at RJ, taking a slight step towards him. "Are you sure this thing is safe?"
And RJ deflected, again, walking towards her. "Everyone's so worried about me," his tone was lax, in a way that said he knew how terrible this was, but whatever ghosts were haunting him were far too worse to introduce to anyone else.
"Can't imagine why," Emi breathed. She could feel the exasperated smile stretching across her face as she looked at RJ, who only looked back with that stupid grin, tongue peeking out like it couldn't decide if it should lick his lips or try and lick something else.
Emi paused. This was drifting back into a territory she couldn't let herself find themselves in again. For RJ's sake.
Yet, he seemed almost like he was asking for it.
"Um, yeah," Emi tried avoiding looking directly into RJ's eyes, but failed, and lazily raised a hand towards the exit. "I'm gonna leave now."
RJ nodded, giving a soft okay in return as she spoke. Another thing Emi noticed about the trailer, another thing she hated, was how awfully cramped it was. This metal box only made for one, she had to remind herself, just suck in your gut as you walk, or something.
"If you could, just," she started, tip toeing her way closer to RJ, "you know,"
"Absolutely," he whispered, stepping back maybe an inch, his body pressing against the counter behind him to form a little bit of room for Emi to walk by. It was barely anything, Emi grimaced in her mind. RJ was looking smug, too. She could just tell him to back it up, sit down on the uncomfortable fabric of his dining chair while she scooted on by, or push him out the trailer in front of her by his shoulders, instead of doing this dumb little dance of will they touch or will they just stare. Hell, the least she could've done for herself was move that damn suitcase. Emi raised her purse as she slid on close. The last thing she wanted to do was whack him with it— the oils of his face might stain it, and that purse was expensive.
Though, pitifully, Emi probably wouldn't have cared about that in the moment.
She avoided eye contact with RJ at first, who stared right into her soul, but she couldn't deny the fact she was walking by as slow as unnoticeably possible, hoping, selfishly, that RJ could move his hands and grab her by the hips. She looked him in the eyes. Emi wondered, distantly, if his thoughts lined up with hers. He grabbed her hips.
"Wait," he breathed, hold loose and voice relaxed, like he wasn't aiding in Emi's twisted fantasies, like he was just planning to tell her a couple more juicy details about a case before they parted ways from that diner. He didn't make a move after that, which frustrated Emi. She would have to take the reigns again. Not that she minds. That's what she always had to do.
Emi closed that distance between their hips, pressing her pretty little dress pants against the rugged jeans he wore that she was pretty sure were worn yesterday, too, and immediately she found what she was looking for. He felt what she was feeling. Some version of it, maybe not in the same way she did, but she would work with it. She's been working with it.
The hands on her waist twitched, pressing just a bit tighter into the expensive fabric. RJ let out a hot breath against her cheek. Emi ground forward again— it was a pity the angle wasn't doing much physically for her as it was for him, but just seeing him like this again, years later after she doomed him to a criminal record, was doing it for here. There was no over-arching guilt to take away the pleasure she got in watching him fall apart this time.
"Emi, I don't think—"
"RJ. Shut up," Emi didn't want to talk about it, if it was coming to this, because talking about it made it real, and Emi didn't want it to be real like that, not here in this trailer, and definitely not in the world outside the trailer, either. That didn't mean she didn't want to take him in some capacity. She just wasn't sure how to express it. I do want you, just, I don't think it can be realer than this, yet.
"Okay," was all he said, and Emi let herself believe he understood. "Can I—"
"Do something,"
RJ's hold on her tightened a little bit more, and Emi felt herself be lifted just an inch or so from the ground, then set back down just as quick, this time her butt firm against the small excuse for a dining table. RJ properly kicked the suitcase out of the way. He stepped in close, settled between her hanging legs, and let his hands fall onto the upper part of her thighs. RJ leaned forward, like he was going to get sickeningly more romantic than either should, but Emi stopped him, hand on the shoulder. RJ seemed to understand.
That was something he was good at, Emi had noticed, which all things considered was good for him— it was his job to notice things, solve problems, so it was understandable he's be just as attentive outside the camera's viewfinder. If only he had just a bit more confidence to just take when he's wrapped in his personal life, a big more effort to kiss away the apprehension that Emi was barely trying to uphold. Maybe next time.
Emi's hands dragged down the front of RJ's body, feeling the tacky, cheap fabric of his tropical shirt— she wouldn't be surprised if he didn't own any non touristy outfits== all the way down to the waistband of his jeans. She unhooked the belt in one try, her eyes never separating from RJ's. In turn, his fingers slipped under the flair of her dress shirt, finding themselves sneaking past the waistband of her slacks. Emi started to fumble with his zipper.
"Should I—"
"Just let me do it,"
Emi unzipped his jeans, teasingly brushing her fingers across the visible bulge. She relished in the sound he made, and couldn't stop herself as she shucked the pants down to his mid thighs, taking his boxers— which were of another laughable tropical pattern— down with them.
It was weirdly satisfying to her to know nothing about his, er, groin, changed in the time since she had last seen it, and she was pleased to see he reacted in the same way when her hand wrapped around him, giving a few languish strokes up the shaft. RJ's hips twitched in her hold.
RJ decided to make the next move, properly gripping at Emi's waistband to pull it down. Emi lifted her hips the best she could without letting go of RJ, and watched from the bottom corner of her eyes as he pants, and panties, were dragged down to pool at her ankles. The table was cold against her skin. One of RJ's hands came back up to return the favor, fingers splayed across her lower belly as his thumb caught against her clitoris, rubbing slow circles into it. His other hand snaked behind her back, pushing her closer to him and right at the edge of the table. Part of his dick brushed against her bare thigh, making her shiver.
Emi swallowed. She looked back up into RJ's eyes— he was staring at her, patient, waiting for her direction, much like he did the first time they found themselves like this. Her thoughts drifted, briefly. She really shouldn't be doing this again— less because it was wrong, on so many levels, but more because she was running short on time, remembering she had a few more commitments before the night was set to end.
"Do you have a condom?" Emi didn't want to settle for some mutual masturbation, as nice as that sounded, but she didn't want to waste the time it would take to go all the way. She had a compromise in mind, and based on the flush of RJ's cheeks framing the way his pupils almost entirely overtook is irises, he was probably down for just about anything Emi would give him if it meant relief.
Weren't we all?
RJ nodded, his hand leaving the small of Emi's back to reach behind him, fumbling with the handle of the kitchen drawer. He reached inside, only turning his head to look directly at the drawer when he couldn't feel out what he was looking for, and after a few short moments, RJ pulled out a familiar looking foil packet. A strange place to keep condoms— his junk drawer, but Emi didn't want to waste the time questioning it now. While he was momentarily distracted, Emi shook one of her legs free of her pants and panties, widening her legs a bit for the lazy strokes on her clit.
RJ tore the foil with one hand and his upper canine, spitting out the torn piece with a plah in some direction of the floor. Realizing he couldn't put the condom on in the position he was in, he pulled his other hand away from Emi, and Emi let go of him so he could drag the condom down and around his dick.
Once satisfied, his hand reached back out, this time a finger hovering over her entrance, a gentle press at the muscles. This was the moment Emi noticed how wet this was getting her, and it was slightly embarrassing. Before RJ could attempt to press the finger inside of her, Emi wrapped her hand around his wrist, stilling him. RJ tilted his head at her.
"Maybe not like that," she maneuvered her fingers against his, taking his pointer and middle finger against her hold, scooping up some of the discharge with his fingers and dragging them up to her clit to wet the area. Once she felt sufficiently lubricated, she removed RJ's hand form her. She took the chance at his moment of confusion to push her calves into the back of his thighs, puling him closer to her body. His dick dragged against her cunt, before resting between the folds with a gentle pressure on her clitoris.
Emi's had pressed back down, trapping RJ between her hand and the warmth of her lower half. She shifted her hips up and down a couple times for RJ to get the hint, and once he did, he placed his hands back on her hips and started to move on his own. He let out a shuttering groan, forehead falling against Emi's shoulder.
This was the part of the sex with RJ she had forgotten— the feeling it brought her, beyond the pleasure. The way he instantly slipped into submission, graciously taking whatever Emi would give him without complaint, letting Emi take the wheel because she certainly knew what he needed more than he knew himself. She felt so in charge, and she loved it, yes, it came natural to her. She sometimes wondered what it would be like if RJ did it all, made all the choices, but she was too high strung to let that energy exist beyond a fantasy thrown into the back of her mind. She probably wouldn't even like it, but. Maybe…
Maybe next time.
She can at least hope there would be a next time. When she figured everything out.
Emi pressed down a bit harder, and oh, did it feel nice, the slick glide of RJ against her, warming her insides. Emi wasn't exactly the most vocal when she was getting pleasured, often playing it up to boost the egos of men and win a couple favors,, and she was by no means trying to gain some information from RJ in this moment, but she couldn't help some of the soft sighs and grunts that passed by her lips, and the little reception RJ was getting from her was enough to spur him on all the same, quickening his movements. He pressed a feather light kiss to the side of Emi's jaw.
"Em," he huffed, a whine to his voice that brought back more memories of the car all that time ago, signaling to Emi that this little rendezvous was coming to a close here soon. She would be offended that it was going to be over so quickly, had she not been so pleased with how fast she was able to make RJ fall apart again. Her other hand drifted across RJ's neck, toying with the hair at the nape.
"Relax," she whispered, and RJ was am absolute goner, a few more erratic grinds later had RJ groaning loudly into her ear and spilling into the condom. She stroked him through his release, only letting up when he batted at her hand, stepping back out of the hold she had him in with her legs. Emi mourned the loss of contact, briefly considering finishing herself off with her hand before she left— she was pretty close, too, something about the casual grinding really got her going— but RJ seemed to have other plans. He dropped down on his knees, not even bothering with the condom and the mess between his legs, instead grabbing at Emi's hips again, leaning forward to bury his face into her heat.
Emi gasped, hand tangling into the strands of hair at the top of RJ's head. Her other hand gripped at the side of the table. Holding herself steady. RJ enthusiastically licked up between Emi's folds. His tongue was warm, and wet, and Emi was all for it.
This had been a thing she didn't get to have the first time they collided, and it made her think— did he practice this in the time they were apart? Or had he always been a natural? She recalled the times he talked about being married to Catherine. Did she experience this all, too? Emi shook her head. Not something for her to think about. She could think about the fact the rarely got to experience this at all— men were always so focused on themselves and Emi was in too deep with the act to even bother trying to get some reciprocation. RJ could take charge. He was taking charge. She lied— she was totally into it.
Emi's grip in his hair tightened when his nose nudged against her clit, his tongue coming down to press against her entrance like his fingers did, and this time, not interrupted by Emi's impatient hands, he was able to push himself in, the warm muscle getting to explore Emi's insides this time.
"Oh, shit," she cursed, hips stuttering forward. She was reaching the tipping point again, and this time RJ's own pleasure wasn't in the way. Emi's hips met every little thrust of his tongue, and almost unexpectedly, the coiling heat in her stomach snapped, her own orgasm finally washing over her. She fully relaxed into RJ, not focusing too hard on how it was just RJ that was holding her up now, rather than her own muscles. Emi let herself feel it for a moment, watching with half-lidded eyes as RJ pulled back from Emi, lips glistening and eyes staring up into hers. He looked satisfied.
The moment has to pass, though.
Emi wiggled out of RJ's hold, standing on wobbly legs to pull her underwear and pants back up. RJ did such of the same, tugging off the condom and tossing it into a nearby trashcan, rushing to pull his pants back up and tuck his softening cock back into his underwear. Emi was back in order, like nothing had even happened, by the time RJ started fumbling with his zipper.
"Tha—" Emi stopped herself. Not the words she wanted to use. It would've been too real. She settled for something more aloof. "I should actually go, now, yeah."
"Alright," RJ's voice was hoarse, and Emi flushed at the thought that he still hadn't even bothered to wipe his face. She stepped towards the door, pausing just short and looking back when he spoke again.
"That was nice, Emi. Thank you."
As long as Emi didn't say it, she can keep up her facade.
"Try not to die tonight," was all Emi responded with, voice shaky as she reached out towards the handle. In the end, that's all she allowed herself to care about tonight.
"I will do my best,"