The hill that formed from her buckling protests was gone unnoticed, the frantic thoughts that buzzed in her mind moving too quickly for her to notice something so minor. His hands on her body were the focus of her attention, how his skin felt against hers, the strength of his fingers around her neck as he squeezed her tender throat. All the while he strangled that delicate throat, she watched his eyes. Those cold, dark eyes that seemed to penetrate her soul and make her feel naked. The softness and kindness she had once seen them had vanished, or perhaps that was simply her opinion of him now. He had stripped away her high opinion of him and desire to be his companion the moment he snuck into her bedroom and like her boxers she was left with nothing.<br/><br/>As those wet fingers pressed lightly against her cheek she jerked her head away, silently forbidding his touch. Still, he had managed to touch those wet digits to the warmth of her reddened cheek, the saliva maintaining its grip on her skin even when she jerked from his grasp. At his words she stiffened, her thighs readying around him as if she was about to begin fighting once more, the muscles, albeit not at all those of an athlete tensed. His Emma, she was not his Emma. She was Laurent’s, if she had to choose, though preferred to be considered no one’s. She wasn’t property, something to claim, although he seemed to have a different idea. He had taken her from her bed, dragged her across God only knows where and clung to her like she was a prized toy.<br/><br/>Emma winced as if his touch hurt her when he lifted her to sit in his lap, her legs around his hips and her groin bare for all. Her neck resisted the pull as his hands brought her head to his, her forehead pressing against his own. She could feel his body heat, smell his breath and feel the warm air run over her face as he breathed. The intimacy the position brought was uncomfortable, awkward. She felt sweat dripping down the small of her back, her own breath hitching in her throat as she watched him, his eyes taking up her entire vision. It was wrong, all wrong. She was all too aware of those prying fingers slithering down to her sacred spot, the tips resting just close enough to make her heart beat faster. One slip, one movement from either of them would allow his finger to graze against her entrance, to invade her.<br/><br/>Nostrils flared as he mentioned being together and how Laurent had ignored her. That was told in confidence, to her friend. Not this monster who looked like him. The fact he brought something up in which he was privy to because of their friendship only made the betrayal worse. It stabbed at her wounded heart, remembering the hours they had spent talking, the long nights that turned into early mornings as she clicked away on her keyboard, eagerly waiting his response. She hadn’t told him, he had no right to use that information, to make like they were friends still. The urge to spit in his face had saliva gathering in her mouth. The release of her head felt like he had taken a large pressure from her shoulders. Her head turned away as he attempted to run his thumb across her lips, preventing the loving touch from making contact.<br/><br/>His words had her jaw tensing, though her lips remained still. She stared at the wall until he spoke of her boxers. She looked at him again, careful not to move her hips in fear of those fingers that prodded near her entrance. “Okay.” She lied. Her voice was hoarse from his rough treatment but it was the only word she spoke to him now. The only thing she allowed past her lips. Compliance. She watched enough Criminal Minds and crime shows to know it was the easiest way to get to a psychopath. In some way, he had done her a favor, choking her. He had cleared her mind, forced the instinct driven adrenaline from her body and making her think. Emma had a good indication he would take her boxers if she tried to protest, to put up a fight. If she went along with his sick game, as long as he didn’t hurt her, she might be able to get through it. To win a game one had to bluff. She was a good liar, a good bluffer. She knew games and she forced herself to think of this as a new level. It was the only thing to keep her sane in that moment. If she lied about the boxers there was a chance he wouldn’t take them. But was that really the most concerning thing at the moment? It was the little things in life.<br/><br/>With the threat of his department, she saw it as a silver lining. She didn’t want him to stay, she wanted him gone from her sight, her touch and her mind. The thought of eerie silence and depressing loneliness in the dark cellar didn’t cross her mind, not yet. All she wanted was to be rid of this bastard and he was giving her just that. The hatred and disgust she felt for the betrayer was enough to forget the fear of loneliness, to forget what came after he left her. Emma was eager to escape his lap when he began scooting her from him. She slid back on the mattress, away from the monster that asked for a kiss. Emma shook her head at his request, her eyes glancing at the stairs that led to freedom, though she made no movement to run. She was a fast learner.