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aliciameade · 6 months ago

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Darkness at Dawn - Ch. 8

Title: Darkness at Dawn Author: aliciameade Rating: M/E Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary: Even Bonnie & Clyde met their fate eventually.

Set five+ years after "Baby."

Also on AO3

“Can you please tell me what’s happening? I can keep whatever secrets you need me to.”

She and Emily are back in the kitchen cleaning up from the party. The boys have gone out with their friends to celebrate their graduation with strict instructions to call if anyone needs a ride home. Sean had departed with his parents without a word to anyone but Nicky. Stephanie’s mom was back at her hotel and the house and yard were empty save for the two of them.

Stephanie’s body is screaming for Emily’s touch, but she needs answers, at least one, first.

“I need to know if you’re here. If you’re really here. Or if a S.W.A.T. team is on its way to haul you back to prison.”

“I’m here, baby,” Emily says as she puts the serving trays back on the top cabinet shelf at Stephanie’s direction, where she would have to use a step stool to reach. “And I’m not going anywhere that you don’t want me to.”

“Explain. Please.”

Emily turns and leans against the counter, pulling Stephanie against her to gaze down at her in a way that makes Stephanie’s heart race. “I didn’t escape, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Stephanie laughs because the thought had crossed her mind. If anyone could orchestrate an elaborate prison escape, it would be Emily. “The possibility did occur to me.”

She shakes her head and brushes Stephanie’s hair back from her face. “I filed a motion to withdraw my confession. Said I did it under duress, that I was fearing for our sons’ safety if Sean were to retaliate against me and needed you to be freed to take care of them. They gave me a bench trial and I pleaded not guilty because I needed them to turn around and convict me. And then I appealed until my attorney was able to have a mistrial declared. Without my confession, they didn’t have enough evidence to uphold the murder charge and the rest of their case fell apart.”

“That’s it? Just like that?”

Emily chuckles. “That’s the quick version, but yeah, that’s it.”

“They’re not going to take you away? Or come for me, because you rescinded your confession? That’s what got them to dismiss most of the charges against me.”

“I’m not going anywhere. And they can’t charge you again; that’s double jeopardy. This is it, baby. We’re free.”

Stephanie tries not to think 15 steps—15 years—ahead when she starts imagining recapturing the future they were trying to have before this all began. “I still have two more years of probation.”

Emily's hand swats her ass playfully. “A cakewalk. I’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“Funny.” Stephanie shakes her head and her hands slide into Emily’s hair to start pulling her down. “I’m not dreaming?”

“You’re wide awake.”

“Then take me to bed.”

Emily captures her lips with the same fervor Stephanie feels. They’ve been apart for so long, unable to kiss, to touch. They haven’t felt each other since they’d been imprisoned in Greece nearly four years ago, and Stephanie tries to push away the thoughts of the possibilities that Emily’s been with others in their separation, whether out of desire or necessity.

Stephanie hasn’t been touched by anyone. At first, she didn’t have any desire in her heartbreak. Then, she didn’t have the time, even when she did have desire. Her desire was shallow, though, and she found release through the memories of all the ways Emily had made love to her, of the first thrilling time, of Emily showing up at her front door wearing a strap-on to fuck her on top of a washing machine, of licking Emily on a jet during a business call, of Emily sucking her own essence off the dildo Stephanie had used on her, of slow, lazy sex in the mornings and of their reunion in Greece and the waters off Portugal. She didn’t think about their rendezvous in prison; those memories weren’t happy ones.

“I don’t know where your bed is,” Emily finally says with a hum against her lips when they’ve made it a few steps to the middle of the kitchen.

Stephanie giggles against her mouth and grabs her hand. “Our bed. This way.”

She leads her down the hall and into her room, letting Emily make quick work of her dress and she of Emily’s blouse, working the buttons quickly until her body, as perfect as it’s always been even after the hardships it's been through, is beneath her hands once again. The long lines, strong muscles, the beauty marks and freckles and the tattoo around her wrist, her hair as it gets in the way and curtains them from the world, the feel of her heartbeat when she presses her lips to her chest, the sound of her breath in her ears and the perfume overwhelming her senses. She wants everything now, and she wants to delay it forever so it can’t end.

She’s fantasized about a reunion so many times but her imagination couldn’t have prepared her for what it would feel like now, after so long, to have Emily lay her back in bed and suck a mark into her neck and kiss her breasts and draw her underwear down her legs until her tongue licks through the wetness between her thighs that hasn’t been taken care of, really taken care of, for so long.

Her hands tangle in Emily’s blonde waves, heels pressing into her back as she arches her hips up in immediate desperation. She tries to curse but all she manages is a moan at the feeling of Emily’s warm, soft tongue against her. She remembers exactly how Stephanie likes it.

“Fuck, I’ve been dreaming about the way you taste,” Emily groans against her before one of her hands reaches up to cover Stephanie’s breast, gripping it possessively while the other keeps Stephanie spread for her tongue, lapping at her with as much need and hunger as Stephanie feels.

She comes hard and with little warning, her voice ringing as she cries out. She can hear Emily, too, moaning between the thighs that are pressed tightly against her ears, can feel her writhing against the bed with need and Stephanie pulls her up.

“Let me,” she says, kissing herself off Emily’s lips and chin before pushing her onto her back to move on top of her. Blonde hair splays across her pillow in a way she hasn’t seen in years. Emily’s chest heaves as Stephanie’s mouth moves over it, lips and tongue traveling across her breasts to suck at their peaks as naked hips rock against one another.

Emily’s fingernails scratch her back as she moves lower, kissing down her abdomen as legs part to make room for her.

Her tongue draws through Emily, her taste filling her memory. She’s missed it, too, but hasn’t forgotten it. She’s imagined it an infinite number of times as she brought herself to orgasm in the bed they’re now in, but it’s finally real again, Emily’s wetness is on her tongue and her voice fills her bedroom.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Emily says with a stilted moan, her body shivering at the first touch. ��Please,” she begs. “Please.”

She makes love to Emily with her tongue, circling and fluttering until she closes her lips to suck as she easily slides her fingers into her. She’s as soft and slick as she remembers, and moans when Emily tightens around them.

“Please, baby.”

Stephanie doesn’t know what Emily’s begging her for. She’s giving her exactly what she knows she needs until a shudder rolls through Emily’s body and fingers pull harshly at her hair and her voice hovers on a sharp edge of decision.

And then she realizes: she’s waiting.

She lifts her head just long enough to say, “Come for me, Em. I want you to come for me.”

She wraps an arm around Emily’s leg to hold onto her as her body rocks, her voice echoing in Stephanie’s ears like a song she can never forget.

It’s hard and fast like her own climax had been, hands flailing and grasping at anything, hips rocking and twisting, and once it passes, Stephanie knows they’re only getting started.

“Get up here,” Emily nearly growls, pulling Stephanie up until her tongue consumes her mouth, her fingers pressing into Stephanie without preamble. Stephanie’s never leave Emily.

She’s reminded of the first time they reunited in prison, it was in this same position. Though now they’re free. And alone.

“Fuck me,” Emily demands before kissing her so hard it almost hurts.

Stephanie can only moan at the request and work her hand harder, her hips riding Emily’s fast. “Come with me this time?” she asks against her mouth and Emily nods quickly, breaking off the kiss to moan.

There are no more words then, just a furious race to a mutual finish, sweat and heat and fingernails in Stephanie’s flesh and wetness between them as they both hover at the precipice until Stephanie falls first. Fingers press so deeply into her that she can barely breathe as Emily’s release draws her own in further, fingertips stroking inside her until Emily’s climax flows right into another, her thighs trembling beneath Stephanie as she goes silent, mouth open but no sounds escaping, body taut even as Stephanie feels it throb from within.

She watches with awe as it continues, Emily repeatedly falling apart with a few perfectly placed strokes of her fingertips. Again. And again.

It’s rendered Emily nearly lifeless, but Stephanie doesn’t need her to do anything. She grinds herself, fingers still inside, the years of pent-up need take her to another easy release as she looks at Emily’s form beneath her. A woman lost in ecstasy who’s unable to speak, a woman who’s gone to hell and back to be with her, who gave up her freedom to save her and give their kids a chance at a decent life, whose only movements are involuntary now as she’s a the mercy—and under the spell—of Stephanie.

She can barely breathe and she’s not sure Emily is still conscious, though the slight smile at the corners of her mouth gives her away.

“Holy shit, I missed you.” Emily’s voice is low and rough and her head lolls a bit on the pillow beneath her until her eyes find and focus on Stephanie’s. Her gaze is intense and it makes tears prick Stephanie’s eyes until she falls with a bit of a gasp against her, overcome with the need to be as close as possible.

Heavy arms wrap around her and hold her tightly, heat and sweat between them, legs intertwined and it’s almost suffocating, but if she could possibly get any closer, she would. Her face is buried in Emily’s neck, licking and mouthing at her skin until she feels her twist away, just enough to get Stephanie to lift her head to fill Emily’s mouth with her tongue.

Emily’s hands start to move everywhere again, strength returning by the second, though Stephanie can feel her thighs still trembling beneath her every time she shifts against the one between her own. She makes a few weak attempts to move, arms wrapped around Stephanie like she wants to roll them over but can’t.

She pulls back a little and smiles down at Emily. “You good?”

Something makes Emily bite her lip and moan, but nothing’s happening; they’re both still for a brief moment. It’s as if a thought’s crossed her mind and Stephanie sees it in her eyes and starts to sit up before she says it.

“I need to put my tongue inside you, baby.”

The words make Stephanie’s knees almost give out as she crawls over her, pulling the pillow out from under Emily to make room for herself. She has to hug the headboard; Emily’s positioned so high on the bed and isn’t sliding down—perhaps isn’t able to, she thinks with pride. Emily’s nails drag down her back and up her thighs until they’re digging into her hips to pull Stephanie down to her mouth.

She braces herself with one arm and reaches down with the other to part herself with her fingers; it’s all she can do as Emily holds her firmly and teases her with the tip of her tongue before it presses inside Stephanie.

“Em, fuck…” she moans before holding her breath. Emily’s tongue is firm but soft as it slips in and out of her, fucking her slowly to draw every sound of Stephanie she possibly can.

Her fingers slip in her arousal and bump her clit making her moan sharply.

Emily notices and pulls her tongue out of her to tilt her chin just enough to lick at Stephanie’s fingers where they rest against herself, finding her clit between them. “Do it, baby,” she says hotly before her tongue’s inside Stephanie again. She loosens her grip on her hips and encourages her to move.

She groans, brushing her fingers against her clit, knowing Emily is watching from just an inch or two away, riding her tongue slowly. She wants to be wild and reckless, but she might die if Emily’s tongue ever leaves her body. She needs to be measured and let Emily bring her to the peak.

This climax is different than the others have been tonight, building so slowly that it’s her thighs that tremble now as it starts inside her but travels out to her toes and up to her ears that are ringing with her pounding heart and her breath and Emily’s voice in a cacophony of white noise as cold heat rises until it spills through every inch of her body in endless waves that leave her gasping for air.

In the haze and confusion of ecstasy, she forgets for a moment that it’s real, that she’s not riding one of her toys and fantasizing about Emily.

She forgets until Emily’s voice cuts through the fog with words of praise and desire, words that sound like curses and prayers as her tongue licks through and over Stephanie’s fingers until she feels them being sucked.

She comes back to herself like a flipped switch and gives Emily her hand as she moves backward, a slow shuffle until she’s astride Emily’s waist, Emily’s hands around her wrist and forearm as her lips move over her fingers with as much sensuality as she might give to something else.

It’s a desperate act. They’re not thinking anymore, borderline animalistic with the need for each other and Stephanie watches in awe, her free hand playing with and pulling at the hardened peaks of Emily’s breasts until her own unbridled subconscious, stripped raw of shame now, of decorum, of guilt, makes her reach for her nightstand to find what she’s looking for.

Emily’s on another plane of existence. It’s a marvel to witness and Stephanie watches her face transform as she slips the silicone toy, one she had used on herself just a few days earlier, into Emily.

Teeth scrape Stephanie’s knuckles and Emily groans, legs spreading wider. She doesn’t even open her eyes, doesn’t even look at Stephanie as she starts getting fucked. It’s loud and lurid and Stephanie rides against Emily’s leg as she watches it play out beneath her, as Emily sucks on her fingers and silently begs Stephanie to keep going.

Emily comes so hard Stephanie can barely keep the toy buried inside her, her body first pulsing to push it out, and then to pull it in.

The longer it lasts, the more Stephanie starts to wonder if Emily had actually not been with anyone in prison at all, if she’d only used herself for pleasure, and how much—or little—of it she’d indulged in. She remembers the inherent lack of privacy in prison and how some women didn’t care; she saw more women pleasuring themselves than she ever thought possible. She was discreet, and did it rarely, in the middle of the night or when left alone in her cell.

The thought that Emily, a woman whose pleasure Stephanie considers to be a work of art, may have experienced so little of it for so long is almost heartbreaking. It’s a mix of relief and pride that perhaps Emily didn’t want anyone, even herself. That she only wanted it from Stephanie.

Stephanie can relate.

Her hand finally falls from Emily’s lips after a time and she can see Emily coming back to herself, first with a fluttering of eyelashes and then a soft smile on her lips as she finds Stephanie with her not-quite-focused gaze.

“You’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, baby,” she says through a heavy sigh, hands reaching for Stephanie. “Look at you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Shh, yes you do.” It’s not a competition, but she knows Emily would win the sexiest fucking thing competition, not Stephanie. She lets herself be captured and drawn in, blushing under the compliments as she fits into Emily’s familiar embrace. She’s still on the edge of orgasm, Emily’s having been so astounding that she’d temporarily forgotten about her own. But she wants it now; she’s so close and raw that she might come if she thinks about it for a few more seconds, but she wants to share it with Emily as they’ve done all night. She wants to pull the toy, still deep inside Emily, out and use it on herself.

Instead, she tries to relax and lets Emily kiss her. It’s slow and tired and when it’s evident that Emily’s spent and this is her wind-down, Stephanie nips her lip with her teeth. “Touch me, Em. I still need you, I’m so close.”

“Oh, my baby needs me,” Emily says with a pout that would be cute if it wasn’t so fucking sexy. Tired fingers appear between Stephanie’s thighs to touch her. She’s gentle. She knows it’s all Stephanie needs.

She watches Stephanie with the predatory smile that made Stephanie fall for her in the first place as she comes and she can’t look away, eyes locked on each other.

“I always need you,” she replies through her climax. It’s an intimate and disarming exchange as they’ve perhaps ever had, raw honesty, mutual vulnerability. Saying and doing things they’ve never done with anyone else, not with this intensity. Not even close.

It’s warm and slow and makes her shiver. It makes her wonder how she managed to survive so long without having Emily in her life this way. It makes her want her again immediately, but she’s too light-headed. It makes her want to consume Emily, to merge every bit of her into her own life, to fill all the gaps she left when she’d forced their separation.

“I love you so much,” she says, heart still racing. “I hope you know I never stopped.”

“I know, baby.” Emily’s free hand works to get Stephanie’s hair out of her face; it’s sticking to her and is a mess and Stephanie hadn’t noticed until then; not that she cares how her hair looks. “I felt it every day. It’s what kept me going. Why I did everything I did for you.”

“For us,” Stephanie corrects. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she sees the teardrops that have landed on Emily’s chest.

Emily’s smile softens. “Us?”

Stephanie tilts her head quizzically.

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“Seriously?” Stephanie laughs. “After everything we’ve been through. Everything you did to help me get out. To get yourself out. After tonight…” she drifts for a moment. She’s lost track of how late it is but she doesn’t care what time it is so long as Miles didn’t come home in the middle of their frenzied lovemaking, her bedroom door having been left wide open. “Em.”

“Hmm?” She’s still playing with Stephanie’s hair, her demeanor turning increasingly gentle as the maddening lust between them has finally waned.

“Marry me, Emily. Again.”

A laugh escapes Emily and she sees the sparkle in her eyes she hasn’t seen in so long. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes, I’m being serious. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve been married this whole time. So let’s do it right this time. If you’re ready to, of course. If you have things you need to take care of, I understand. It’s been a long time. It took me months to feel normal again when I got out and I get it if you need to be independent for a while. I’ll still be here when you’re ready. If you’re ever ready.”

“Baby,” Emily says as she frames Stephanie’s face in her hands, thumbs brushing at the tears that are still on Stephanie’s cheeks.

“What?”

“Shut up.” She pulls Stephanie down to her and into a kiss, slow and passionate and deep but not one leading them somewhere. Not yet. “I’m taking your name this time.”

Stephanie squeals against their kiss and feels Emily’s arms wrap around her even though they’re both overheated by now. She has to struggle to get away from her kiss in a playful game until Emily lets her. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course, I’ll marry you, baby. I can’t wait to be Emily Smothers.” The tears falling now are Emily’s, though Stephanie’s not sure her own ever stopped.

“You really want to be Emily Smothers? I can take your name again, be a Nelson this time. Or we can hyphenate.”

“Stephanie,” Emily says with a tone of conviction she hasn’t heard from her often. And she doesn’t call her ‘baby.’ “I want to be your family. My last name doesn’t mean anything to me. Hell, I made it up; it doesn’t connect me to anyone or anything. I just want to be yours. I want to be us again.”

Stephanie’s heart is beating out of her chest. Just yesterday she was mentally preparing to have an empty nest, for Miles to leave for college in a couple of months, and for Nicholas to turn 18 so Stephanie would no longer need to negotiate with Sean to allow him to see the people in his life that he disapproves of, and for her life to become one of hobbies, work, and solitude. And now suddenly Emily is hers once more.

“Then let’s get remarried.”

Emily kisses her hard and grabs her ass firmly. Possessively. “Thank God today went well,” she says after a minute. “I didn’t have anywhere to sleep tonight.”

Stephanie scoffs at her. “I thought you said you didn’t want to be presumptuous?” She tosses damp hair over her shoulder and adopts a bit of a posh English accent. “I am a proper lady. I won’t be sharing my bed with any suitors prior to marriage.”

She can tell Emily wants to play along but her smile overtakes her and opts for a heavy cockney. “Ay, proper lady?”

“What?” Stephanie grins down at her.

“Can you kindly pull your dick out of me and fix us something to eat? I haven’t had suitable food in years and really fancy a bite.”

A bark of laughter escapes Stephanie; they’re delirious and she’d all but forgotten what they’d just finished doing. “Oopsy,” she says as she gently pulls the toy from Emily and kisses her before rolling off her and out of bed onto unsteady legs and drops the accent. “I’ll make you something but only if you change the sheets. The linen closet is down the hall.”

Emily groans and rolls over, spreading out her limbs like a starfish across the bed. “I’ve been making my bunk every day for five years and you’re going to make me make the bed? We’re just going to ruin it again.”

“That’s the deal.”

“Oh, that’s the deal?”

Stephanie pulls a T-shirt out of her dresser, something oversized from Miles’s high school, and slips it over her head. “That’s the deal.” She pauses in her doorway and turns around to look at Emily smiling at her from her bed. “What do you want to eat?”

“You.” She reaches out a hand in Stephanie’s direction. “Get back here.”

Stephanie tick-tocks her index finger at her and tsks. “You need food or you wouldn’t have asked for it. I’ll make you anything you want.”

Emily bites Stephanie’s pillow, eyes narrowing with a growl as she glares at her across the room. Stephanie wonders what she’s considering, if she really wants to have her again now, or if she’s just thinking back through all her favorite meals made by Stephanie.

“Spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread. With that fresh bread I saw on the counter. Did you bake it?”

“I did,” Stephanie says with a laugh. “Is that all? Maybe tiramisu for dessert?”

Emily moans in a different way than she has all evening. “I wouldn’t say no to it.” Emily looks as happy as Stephanie remembers her being in their last, brief, life together as she starts to haul herself out of bed. “I accept your terms.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The spaghetti boils over when Emily insists on trying to make Stephanie come more quickly than it would take to cook the pasta, bent over the dining table with Emily on her knees behind her. She had succeeded until she decided to try for two.

Other than that [enthusiastically welcomed] interruption, Stephanie’s able to prepare a three-course Italian dinner at 2:00 AM: Caesar salads, spaghetti and meatballs, freshly baked garlic bread, red wine, and a pint of gelato she found in the freezer. She doesn’t have the ingredients on-hand that she needs to make tiramisu or she would have. Emily happily watches it all by her side, wearing Stephanie’s dusty pink satin bathrobe. It’s comically short on her.

She moans so much while eating that Stephanie struggles to keep her hands to herself and let the woman indulge in another kind of passion. She remembers her first days after freedom: long baths, long walks, favorite foods, lots of wine. Lots of sitting on a quiet park bench in the sun doing nothing. All of it felt new again, and Emily’s been deprived of it for twice as long as she had been.

Stephanie’s in Emily’s lap—in it, not straddling it—feeding her ex-wife and fiancée lemon gelato off her index and middle fingers (it has a bad habit of dripping onto Emily’s exposed chest) when she hears the front door open. She shushes Emily mid-groan.

“Miles, sweetie, is that you?” She tugs the sides of the robe together across Emily’s mostly exposed breasts and pulls her shirt lower over her thighs.

“Yeah,” he shouts across the house. “Why are you up so late?” His words are slurred slightly and she sees Emily’s eyebrows lift in surprise when he’s standing in the kitchen in front of them. “Oh. Uhh, hey Mom.” He’s addressing Emily and Stephanie loves that he still sees her as a mother.

“Hey, Miles. You had a good night?”

“Yeah, thanks. Sorry, Nick’s at his place.”

“That’s okay, I’ll see him tomorrow.”

He averts his eyes and Stephanie knows that he’s drunk. It’s not his first time, but they’ve talked a lot about being responsible about it, and he always gets a ride home or calls her for one. If he hadn’t been drunk, she knows he would have spun around and hurried off after finding his half-dressed mother sitting in someone’s lap.

Instead, he heads for a cabinet to grab a bowl and fills it with what’s left of the spaghetti sitting on the stove.

“You staying here?” he asks Emily through a bite of garlic bread, ready to shovel pasta in behind it. “Moving in, I mean.”

Stephanie meets her inquiring gaze and nods.

“Yeah, I am. Is that okay with you?”

He takes another bite. “Yeah, it’s cool. Mom really missed you.” Stephanie hides her smile; something about him knowing that—of course, he knows that—making her feel bashful. “I guess I did, too.”

That makes her need to look up at the ceiling to blink away tears.

Emily’s arms tighten where they’re resting around Stephanie’s waist. “I missed both of you, too. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Cool,” Miles says before grabbing the entire second loaf of garlic bread and taking his leave. “I’m going to bed. Thanks, Mom,” he adds, saluting Stephanie with the bread. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Goodnight, Smooch. Drink a glass of water before you go to sleep.” She hears him grunt at the nickname.

“You let him drink?” Emily says incredulously as soon as he’s gone.

She hears his bedroom door slam a few seconds later. “I don’t let him. But he’s going to do it no matter what I say, so it’s better that he knows he can trust me instead of rebel against me.”

“Do you let Nicky drink?”

“You know that’s not up to me.”

“I know, and I’m not testing you.” One of Emily’s hands moves to rest under Stephanie’s shirt on her hip. “Does he though?”

Stephanie measures Emily’s question and finally nods. “He’s crashed here a few times after going out with Miles. Just high school parties. Sean grounds him if he catches him. He was on the football team; I don’t know what he expected. But he’s a good boy.”

Emily exhales at that. “Thank you for taking care of him.” She smiles and her eyes are wet. “I don’t just mean those nights. I mean this whole time, since we met. Especially while I was away.”

“Of course.” She can’t help but kiss Emily’s forehead, the reversal in height difference a rare treat. “I did my best.”

“Look at you, huh?” Emily says with a growing smile. “The woman who was afraid her son might hurt himself playing with action figures is teaching him how to avoid a hangover. You’re not the woman you were when we first met.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not.”

“Good,” Emily says approvingly. “Because this is the woman I want to be with.”

Stephanie feels Emily’s arms shifting and she squeaks when she’s suddenly being carried out of the kitchen. “Wait, wait, let me put this back in the freezer.” She still has the pint of gelato in her hand.

“It’s coming with us.” Emily hits the switch for the kitchen lights with her elbow before carrying her back to the bedroom.

“You’re going to have to change the sheets again.”

“Easiest time I’ll ever do.”

“After you make love to me again.”

“Oh no, please, C.O., don’t send me down to the hole,” Emily deadpans as she grabs the container from Stephanie’s hand so she can drop her into the freshly made bed, immediately moving to straddle her, the borrowed robe falling open on its own accord.

“Do not call it that ever again,” Stephanie interrupts, sitting up to make her point. It’s funny, but it’s a hard pass for her.

Emily laughs at her own joke and pushes Stephanie back down and pulls her shirt up until Stephanie removes it herself. “Don’t worry, baby. I want to be locked up in yours.”

She hisses as coldness drips across her breasts. The gelato is mostly melted by now. “We’re going to need to take a bath after this.”

She watches Emily lean down to trace her tongue along the path she’s drawn, licking the droplets off her skin. “Together?” She pauses above Stephanie’s hardened nipple to smile up at her. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment.” Her lips close around it.

Stephanie’s fingers slide through Emily’s hair to hold her there, back arching into the touch. “Guilty as charged.”

The End

~*~*~*~*~*~

#a simple favor #stephanie smothers #emily nelson #murder moms #fanfic #asf fic

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aliciameade · 6 months ago

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Darkness at Dawn - Ch. 4

Title: Darkness at Dawn Author: aliciameade Rating: M/E Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary: Even Bonnie & Clyde met their fate eventually.

Set five years after "Baby."

Also on AO3

Stephanie notices a shift in the way the other inmates act around and toward her after Emily lays claim to her. The intimidating shoulder-checks and glares have stopped; in fact, she’s given a wide berth when moving from point A to B.

When she returns to her cell after breakfast, meekly eaten next to Emily like the property she’s perceived to be, there’s an assortment of items on her bunk. A bar of soap and small bottles of shampoo and conditioner—all name-brands that are far better than the cheap, harsh options they’re provided. Several chocolate bars. Even a bottle of soda and a new toothbrush. She doesn’t know where it came from, but in prison, it was the equivalent of finding a bag of money. She didn’t even eat much chocolate on the outside, but after putting everything away, she settled on her bed and happily ate one. She even split it with her cellmates, who seemed to gain a level of confidence over the following days as well.

They’re protected by proxy. They’re Stephanie’s friends, and everyone knows to not mess with Emily’s girl.

It makes prison life more bearable. She still has to pretend that she’s not voluntarily following Emily around the rec yard, and she has to pretend that she’s being dragged against her will into empty cells and behind trees, and it was a particularly thrilling moment when Emily “jumped” her in the open group showers, making Stephanie get on her knees in front of everyone until Emily yelled at them to leave. She never could have predicted that prison would afford her the opportunity to act out so many fantasies, ones she didn’t even know she had until they were happening. It felt dirty and wrong, and maybe it was. It was also dangerous if they were to get caught.

Weeks pass. She begs guards to use the phone to call her lawyer, citing her rights being violated by denying access to counsel, but they just laugh in her face or ignore her entirely.

At least she eats better now. Emily gets favorable treatment from the inmates working the kitchen, and so does she. One day, they even got to share an apple. An apple!

She’s going on eight months in when a guard shows up in her cell, cuffing her wrists and chaining her ankles to lead her, by herself, in a direction she’s never been taken before. “Where are you taking me?”

There’s no response from the guard, who jerks on the chain around her waist. He unlocks a door they eventually reach and pushes her through it. It slams closed and locks behind her.

Her attorney is sitting at a table with an empty chair waiting for her.

It’s an emotional conversation. He shares the gravity of her situation. What should happen next. What could go wrong. That once they finally get back to the USA, the process will finally begin and the time spent in prison in Greece will have been for nothing. That she and Emily will be tried separately, and that they will try to get one to implicate the other.

Stephanie would rather spend her life in prison for a murder she committed and failed to get away with, what she deserves, than let Emily be convicted of it.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Four months later, she and Emily are sitting on a prisoner transport plane above the Atlantic Ocean flying west.

They’ve been extradited to face the laundry list of charges against them. They’re charged with many of the same crimes—first-degree murder, conspiracy, forgery, insurance fraud, and money laundering. Stephanie earned the bonus charges of kidnapping for taking Nicky to Greece and perjury for lying under oath at Sean’s murder trial. Emily’s bonus charge is bigamy for marrying Stephanie without divorcing Sean.

Their cases are messy, full of twists and turns and gray areas, and it’s those gray areas that her attorney assures her will result in exoneration. Is it kidnapping when Emily agreed to it, even if Sean didn’t? How can there be bigamy if there was no legal marriage to Stephanie? The exceptions are plentiful, and she gives herself a fifty-fifty chance in front of a jury.

Emily, asleep in her seat on the other side of the aisle, armed U.S. Air Marshals between them, has repeatedly promised that it will work out, that Stephanie will be okay, and that she’ll be reunited with their boys.

Each time Emily reassures her, she grows more worried. Emily is too confident about the situation, and red flags are starting to pop up in her mind.

The flags fade into the background for a while, because she has to adjust to her new home: York Correctional Institution in Connecticut.

Detective Summerville is there when they arrive at intake. There’s no reason for him to be, but he is and doesn’t say a word. He just sits and smiles haughtily while they’re fingerprinted and photographed.

York is a far cry from Thiva. It’s still a prison, but it’s clean, comparatively. They have uniforms, and Stephanie’s gray sweatpants and maroon T-shirt are sized appropriately. She only has one cellmate who gives Stephanie the house rules on Day One, which she makes sure to follow. The food is tolerable. Comparatively. The chaos is more organized. Her attorney arranges weekly funding of her commissary account from her assets that haven’t been frozen by the government.

She’s surrounded by convicted felons and hardened criminals with serious charges awaiting trials. Like herself, she supposes.

At her bond hearing, she’s denied release despite her plea to be allowed to care for her son and her attorney’s arguments, for all the reasons she anticipated. She’s fled the country once. She knows how to change her identity. She’s accused of first-degree murder.

Freedom is denied with the slam of a gavel.

Prison is lonely. It’s monotonous. It’s dangerous. She struggles to not become a target of others’ misdirected rage, and she’s an easy target being as small and unassuming as she is. It’s apparent to everyone that she hasn’t made a habit of being locked up, and quickly earns the nickname ‘Pumpkin’ (or ‘Punkin,’ as most pronounce it), and several women try to stake claim to her. Several terrifying close calls keep her looking over her shoulder.

Many of them lay off her once she reveals she’s there on a murder charge after persistent questioning at meal times, and that she did time in Greece. Prison knows prison, she learns, and surviving the conditions of the facilities there earns her some respect. A few more finally leave her be when she mentions her wife is locked up there, too, also on a murder charge, and that her name is Emily Nelson.

It’s how she learns Emily’s done what she does best: she’s become a dominant inmate in her block better known as Half-Nelson, and the moniker makes Stephanie laugh. She assumes Emily made quick work of whoever the leader of her block was when she arrived. She hopes she wasn’t injured in the process.

News of power transfers travels quickly, and inmates in Stephanie’s block already know who Half-Nelson is, and were perhaps even warned to stay away from Stephanie if she were to guess by the way they stopped their repeated advances on her. She wishes she’d decided to drop Emily’s name much earlier. It’s also the first time she realizes she might have a way to communicate with Emily, if other people are, if only she can figure out how.

It’s all the things she knows prison is intended to be. They claim it’s supposed to be rehabilitative and teach her a lesson, but all it’s doing is filling her with her own rage and eroding her ability to trust people.

She gets to see Miles sometimes. It had taken many phone calls, a lot of tears, and a lot of breaking down her ego to convince her mother to take him in after Stephanie had kept him from her for nearly six years, leaving her to assume both he and her daughter were dead. It took even more phone calls and meetings with her attorney to set up a new guardianship—this time through Stephanie’s legal name. But she’d managed to get him stateside and avoid the foster system.

Visitations with him are hard. She had delayed it as long as she could, foolishly holding onto a false hope that this would all disappear tomorrow and she’d be released to wrap him up in her arms and kiss the top of his head and pretend that none of this had happened.

But time proved that would not be the case, and three months into her incarceration in Connecticut, she saw her son for the first time in a year. The reunion was in front of a prison guard and her judgmental mother who’d driven him down from Albany where she had moved to when she’d retired while Stephanie had been living her new life. Miles was taller than Stephanie now. She’d missed his thirteenth birthday a few weeks earlier.

He was angry. She wasn’t able to stop crying. He wanted to know what was going on, why she was in prison, why he wasn’t able to see her for so long, and where are his other mom and his brother. When can they all go home? Why did they do this to them?

She didn’t have any good answers for him. She promised she would explain everything eventually, and begged him for patience, trust, and understanding. She knew Nicky had been returned to his father not long after her arrest. She knew Emily was in prison. And she knew, via her attorney, that Emily was fighting her own custody battle for Nicky to not lose her rights permanently.

Even if Stephanie’s mother would allow it—she never would—Miles is disallowed from talking to Emily. She’d been his mother half his life, and he wasn’t allowed to talk to her.

It broke Stephanie’s heart, and it pained her to imagine Emily’s heightened isolation. At least Stephanie has her mother and Miles. Emily’s mother had been suffering from dementia for years, and Stephanie’s not sure if she’s still alive; even if she was, she knows Emily would want nothing to do with her. Stephanie and the boys had become Emily’s entire life, and they’ve all been ripped apart.

Unlike their incarceration in Greece, here her relationship with Emily is part of their records. Summerville made sure of it. Their permanent separation is mandated. She hasn’t seen Emily since they arrived. It’s maddening. It’s heartbreaking. She misses her wife and Nicky. She hasn’t been in control of her life for more than a year, and it feels like she was pushed out of an airplane without a parachute and she doesn’t know when she will finally hit the ground. She’s still falling.

“Smothers. Visitation.”

She has a black eye when she’s retrieved from her cell one morning. She’d carelessly reached for another inmate’s water cup, mistaking it for her own, and was promptly shown her mistake.

She checks the calendar on her wall; she doesn’t have an appointment with her attorney and Miles isn’t coming for another two weeks.

She’s shackled and led to the row of phone cubbies, and her blood runs cold as she sits down to find Sean Townsend waiting for her on the other side of the glass.

~*~*~*~*~*~

#a simple favor #stephanie smothers #emily nelson #fanfic #asf fic #murder moms

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