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we drink the fatal drop (then love until we bleed)

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Something is off with Skye. She’s been jumpy ever since they left the base, her movements twitchy and her eyes constantly flicking away from him. He wants to believe it’s just her feeling nervous about everything that has changed between them or feeling on edge after everything else that has happened in the past few days. But he can’t shake the sense of doubt that is creeping up his spine no matter how much he tries to ignore it.

Ward glances over at her as he sprays black paint over the Shield logo on the side of the SUV, and she smiles at him, but it’s nervous and too bright. He drops the can and walks over to her as she starts rooting through the cupboards above the bench, her hands grabbing and discarding the contents shakily.

“Fitz keeps the candy under his bunk,” he says, his tone light as he tries to ascertain what’s really going on with her. Nothing she says sets off alarm bells, but he feels on edge nonetheless. He brushes off her questions about contacting the team, trying to smile reassuringly despite the undercurrent of tension he can feel spreading through him. She turns back to her laptop and he tries to get her talking about the drive, to figure out exactly why she picked some random diner as part of the decryption. She still seems jumpy, her smile too bright and sharp, her agreement too easy.

“Oh, you’ll be plenty safe,” he tells her, smirking a little as he walks over to her. He feels her entire body turn rigid as he reaches around her to grab the gun he noticed she had tucked into her jeans when she leaned up to check the cupboards. “This, however, is not the answer.”

She tries to deflect, something flashing in her eyes as she mutters, “What’s the matter? A girl can’t defend herself?”

“In this situation, the last thing we can afford is to get pinched on a concealed weapons charge,” he reminds her. He manages to project an outward calm, but his mind is working on overdrive as he tries to read her.

“You’re right. Again,” she says, her smile suddenly back and her hand moving to awkwardly play with her hair. Something definitely has her unsettled, and the heavy feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach only grows. “Couldn’t find any rounds anyway.”

“Hey, we are gonna be ok,” he tells her as he steps closer to her, his arms slipping around her waist as he continues. “I promise, until this thing is over, I’m not gonna let you out of my sight.”

She feels tense and brittle in his arms, and when he pulls back from the embrace, the smile she gives him is forced and doesn’t reach her eyes.

Sliding his hands from her waist up along her neck, noting the slight flinch she tries to hide at the touch, he cups her cheeks as he ducks his head to meet her gaze. Remembering what she’d said back at the Providence base, he curls his fingers along her jaw and pours every ounce of reassurance he has into his tone, even as he hates the idea of losing any of this new closeness they have found. “Skye, we’re going to be fine, I promise you. And if this, us, is too much for you then we can slow down if you need to.”

Something flickers in her gaze as he promises her safety, fleeting but sharp, and she looks into his eyes searchingly. He tries so hard not to flinch under her scrutiny, knowing everything he is hiding from her and doubting more and more as time passes that she will understand at all. He is going to lose her, he knows it, but he can’t keep from selfishly grabbing for these few moments while he can. Can’t stop hoping desperately that everything won’t fall apart just like he knows it will.

Trying to push that worried look out of her eyes, Ward leans in and kisses her. The thrill of being able to do that, just lean in and kiss her, has not faded at all. A spark of electricity shoots through him at the contact. But her lips feel so tentative and cold beneath his, he doesn’t try to deepen the kiss, just presses his lips against hers for a moment before pulling back. Just as he breaks contact however, she leans back into him, suddenly eager, her mouth opening against his and her tongue seeking entrance at his lips. He groans into her mouth as her tongue slides against his, licking heat into his mouth. Her hands are clasped behind his neck, pulling him closer.

Something about her still seems off, some kind of tension making her muscles feel coiled to strike beneath his touch. But as she opens her mouth against his, her skin so soft beneath his his fingers, the heat and the smell of her flooding his senses, it’s so easy for him to brush his concerns aside. It’s just what she said back at the base, everything is so new and so big. It’s the team being away. It’s the way her world has fallen apart in the last few days. She can’t know the truth about him. She can’t.

So he dives into the kiss, his fingers curling against her hips as he walks them back until they hit the edge of the holotable, lifting her up to sit on it without breaking the kiss. He feels her tense again at the change in position, before her knees slowly part for him to fit between them. He keeps it slow, tries not to crowd her too much, breaking their kiss for a moment as he searches her face for a cue, to make sure she’s ok with this.

But suddenly, her touch is sure, her hands slide down his sides and her fingers slip through his belt loops, yanking him closer. There is something dark and almost violent in her eyes and her hands are rough as they grip his hips before slipping under his shirt, her nails digging into his skin. But it’s not until she clamps her teeth down on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, her eyes flat and unrepentant when he pulls back in surprise that it begins to become clear to him. He brings his hand up to touch his lip and his fingertip comes away with the smallest smear of blood. And somehow it’s the sight of that red against his skin that opens his eyes. She knows.

He stills, his entire body chilling as the realization sinks over him. His mind scrambles, searching frantically for any other explanation, but even as he reaches madly for hope the cold heavy weight of the truth takes root. She knows, and she loathes him.

Ward staggers back, the hand that was still resting against the side of her jaw falling limply to his side. He opens his mouth uselessly, trying to think of something, anything, to say that could make this right. Something that could make her understand. He had a mission, just a job to do, and then she came into his life and ripped the floor out from under him. He was not prepared for her: she tore down every single one of the defenses until there was nothing left for him to do but love her. Every single careful piece of training, everything that made him the skilled agent he is, was useless against the way she crept into his heart, into his thoughts, until loving her felt almost as natural as breathing. Until loving her feels like the first real thing he has ever done.

But Garrett… He owes Garrett everything. The man saved him, built him up from the wreckage his family left behind. John Garrett was the only person who ever meant anything to him...until her. How could he possibly choose between them? And will she even give him the option of choosing, or has he already lost her while the taste of her mouth still lingers in his own?

“Skye…” he whispers brokenly, his eyes imploring her to understand. Begging her for more time.

“Don’t,” she spits at him angrily, and he feels something inside him ache at the sight of the unshed tears that shine in her eyes.

He steps closer again, one hand coming back up, as if to rest against her jaw before he freezes, leaving it hovering in the air beside her. She looks at his hand, then back up to his face, her gaze disdainful now.

“Why?” Her eyes might be full of anger, but her voice sounds on the verge of tears. “How could you betray all of us like that? All this time... Everything… Was anything about you real?”

“Yes,” he says fiercely, stepping back into her space again, his hand finally sliding against the smooth skin of her jaw. “Everything between you and me, everything about my feelings for you is real, Skye, I swear-”

He jerks back from the force of her slap before he even feels the sting in his cheek, staggering a few steps back from her. When he looks back at her, her expression is equal parts incredulity and rage.

A tear spills from her glassy eyes, and he watches transfixed as it slides down her cheek before she brushes it away roughly. In that moment, he suddenly feels like he could give up everything for her. He would let the world burn, he would leave John to his fate, he would do anything if it meant that she wouldn’t break. If it meant that he could keep her.

Hot shame washes over him at the realization, the idea that he could even consider abandoning the man who saved him, but he honestly can’t take the thought back.

“Why would you even choose Hydra? What do they have that SHIELD doesn’t? The chance to kill more people?” Skye accuses.

“Skye,” he whispers. “I owe him everything, I couldn’t just let him die.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you talking about?”

“Garrett.”

“How do you owe him anything?” Her anger is tinged with confusion now, as she looks at him searchingly. “Because he was your SO? What does that have to do with this?”

“He saved me.” How can he possibly explain to her everything Garrett has done for him? Everything he has meant to him? What words are there to explain the debt you owe to the person who made you the person you are?

“From what?!” she demands.

“He saved me from hell, from being tossed away like yesterday's trash. He gave me something to live for, a goal to achieve. Better than my family ever did. He made me stronger.”

“What about us? Did Coulson, did this team give you nothing? Were we just a means to an end?”

“No, it wasn’t like that!”

“Really? How is it anything but that?”

“Yes, I'm a spy. I had a job. I needed to find out how they brought Coulson back. It was a mission, that’s all, it wasn’t personal.”

“It wasn’t personal?” she repeats, a look of disbelief on her face and her voice rising. “Not personal? What… How can you say that? How was it anything other than personal?”

With a sudden burst of rage she shoves him back, hard, before launching herself at him. Her fist makes contact with his jaw, his collarbone, her nails digging into his flesh as she hurls her anger at him. “You son of a bitch! You lying... Fuck!”

“Stop!” He grabs her by the wrists, holding her steady as her tirade fails her. “I’m a spy okay? This is exactly what my job is supposed to be. I was supposed to get intel and report to my superior, that’s all. I was never supposed to hurt anyone.”

Running his fingertips over her knuckles, he can’t help adding, “And you weren’t supposed to be on the team. I didn’t plan for you, Skye. Everything between us was real, is real, you have to believe me.”

He hears the begging tone in his voice, just as clearly as he can hear Garrett chastising him for his pathetic weakness. But the desperation to convince her, not to lose her, overrules everything else. There is a flicker of longing in her eyes as she stares back at him, and he feels the hope surge through him, before she tears her gaze away from his with a bitter twist to her mouth.

“So what now?” she asks him, drained but defiant. “Do you kill me? Hand me over to Garrett, let him do it? You just gonna kick back and watch me bleed?”

“What? No!” He feels himself physically recoil at the accusation, at the fear behind her eyes as she looks up at him. “I would never hurt you, I swear. Skye, you know that.”

“No, you just work for the guy who tried to have me killed, right? All part of ‘the mission’. But it’s not personal,” she hisses bitterly, and he feels his chest clench painfully at the accusation.

“Skye, I swear, I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t know…” His voice trails off. “I will never let anyone hurt you.”

“So what happens after I crack the drive then?” she asks, her expression skeptical. “You just let me go back to the team, and you give Garrett the info to fix himself and then you guys retire from The Dark Side of the Octopus? No harm, no foul? Or do you keep going with world domination? Are we going to spend the rest of our days chasing you down?”

Glancing away from him as she blinks her eyes rapidly, she mutters, “Come on Ward, even you aren’t delusional enough to believe that we all get to walk out of this unscathed, are you?”

His grip tightens on her wrists as her barb hits home. Ever since everything began to implode, since Hydra emerged from the shadows, he has just been desperately clinging to the hope that he can save Garrett without losing Skye. But deep down the creeping fear has begun to take hold: he will have to make a choice at some point, or he will lose them both no matter what he does. But how is he supposed to choose between the only two people in the world who have ever mattered to him?

Ward releases one of her wrists to tentatively reach out and cup her cheek with his hand. She stills at the touch, her warring emotions flickering across her features. There is a moment of hesitation, and he is unsure whether she will flinch away or allow his touch. He can see the indecision in her face, her conflicting feelings and desires all pulling her in different directions. Her eyes are glassy with the threat of fresh tears, her jaw clenched, and for one awful moment he is sure that she is going to pull away from him again, and he can feel that sickening cold as it squeezes his chest again. But then something shifts in her expression and she leans, ever so slightly, into the warmth of his hand where it rests against the side of her face.

He feels himself sag with the relief that surges through him, it’s a small victory but he’ll take it. Slowly, giving her time to back away, he leans in and pulls her closer to him. Her entire body tenses as he eases his arms around her, her wrists still pressed against his chest between them, and he knows he should be backing off before she lashes out again but he clings to her hopelessly anyway. After a moment she sags against him, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt as she tries to hide her sniffle with her face pressed into his shoulder. Ward can feel his own eyes sting as his head drops down to rest against the top of hers. His arms tighten around her, knowing that once he lets her go he will probably never have the chance to touch her again so he savors the feel of her in his arms for as long as he is able to.

Eventually the fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt ease and slowly begin to slide across his chest. He doesn’t even notice at first, too lost in the scent of her hair and the warmth of her body pressed against his, until he feels her fingertips dance across his collarbone. The fluttering touch is followed by the warmth of her lips brushing against the hollow of his throat. He freezes, his brain short circuiting as he tries to make sense of what is happening. He is scrambling for an explanation, trying to decipher her actions, as her mouth moves higher along his neck, but his mind is turning to white noise. Her teeth scrape lightly over his earlobe, sending a shiver down his spine, and then she is slowly moving along his jaw toward his mouth.

Her lips brush against his in a feather light touch that sparks through him like she’s a livewire, and he grabs hold with both hands. They both move to deepen the kiss, and she groans against him as she coaxes his mouth open. She starts out gentle but as soon as his lips part she uses her grip on his neck to pull him closer roughly.

The kiss is sharp with the metallic tang of blood from his lip, and there is something in it that has him leaning in even more eagerly. He learned how to use pain and pleasure long ago in many of the roles he has played for SHIELD over the years, but it has never particularly appealed to him personally. But the idea of Skye marking him and kissing his wounds better, has him shuddering against her. The shadowy corners of his soul ache for her darkness just as deeply as her light brought his forward.

There is a rational voice in his mind telling him to slow this down: this is a situation he has lost control of, he has no idea what is going on in Skye’s head right now. She knows everything, and he has no way of being sure of what kind of messages she might have left behind for the team. Nothing good can come from this. But that voice is drowned out by the way his blood is screaming her name as it pounds through him, by his reckless need to know the taste of her skin, just once, before everything ends. His tenuous grip on his self control shatters as her fingers scrape against the nape of his neck, her touch harsh but her mouth soft and inviting under his.

He dives into her hungrily, angling her head back to deepen the kiss, frantic for every single taste of her that he might get. Her arms are clutched around his neck, the fingers of one hand clawed in his shoulder while the other is resting gently, almost like a caress, against the back of his head. He can feel her conflict in every inch of her body pressed so tightly to his: the fury and betrayal and bitterness all clashing with her desire, with the way he calls to her like a moth to a flame. Just the same way everything about her calls to him.

His heart is pounding so hard he’s sure she can feel it, his blood rushing through his ears as his tongue tangles with hers, her nails sharp and hard as they drag against the muscles in his back. The pain flares sharp but it only makes him want her more, grinding his pelvis against hers as his mouth leaves hers. Her head falls back, gasping for breath, as his mouth slides along her jaw.

He is clinging to her feverishly, one hand firm at the small of her back and the other clutching at her hip. And when she groans from his mouth on her throat, he feels it in his entire body, a shudder working its way from his head to his toes. She stumbles, and as he tightens his grip to steady her, he realizes she has been walking them back across the lab, her hold around his neck never loosening. His lower back hits against the desk with a thud, he barely feels it as she pulls his face back to hers by her hands in his hair, her lips hungry and demanding as she presses her body even more firmly against him.

Finally pulling away from her to breathe, Ward stops for a moment to try and read her expression. He wants this, he wants her so badly, but he can't let himself go there without knowing she is in it with him. This has to be her choice.

She is breathing harshly as she meets his gaze evenly, she stares back for a long moment before she nods slowly. Licking her lips, the look in her eyes is a challenge and he can feel the fire in him rising in response. Drawing her closer, he kisses her roughly, dragging his mouth along her jaw and down her throat as she groans. Spinning her body so that her back is pressed against his chest, Ward pulls her hair aside to expose her neck, leaning down to press his mouth to her skin again as his hands slide from her shoulders to unbutton her flannel, pulling it down to expose her shoulders. Skye arches against him with a shudder as the palm of his hand presses against her breast, and he bites down on her shoulder when she pushes her ass back against his groin. She gasps at the sensation of his teeth scraping across her skin, then deliberately rubs against the bulge in his pants again, chuckling softly at the growl that escapes him in response.

Ward drags her flannel shirt the rest of the way down her arms and tosses it aside, his hands sliding back across her abdomen and up to cup her breasts through her tank top, his mouth still working against her shoulder. With her neck arched to invite his kiss, Skye moans again before reaching up to grab one of his hands in her own, pulling it down to the front of her jeans and holding it against her. His hand clenches automatically, his fingers pressed against the seam between her thighs, and she shudders and pushes herself more firmly against his touch. He freezes for a moment, the blood rushing from his head as she grinds against his hand, his knuckles scraping on the edge of the desk he has her pushed against. And then she slides her hand beneath his, popping the button at her waistband before grabbing his hand again and pushing it inside her jeans. It’s a tight fit, her jeans trapping his hand firmly and he can only just move his fingers, but as soon as he feels the dampness of her underwear he feels whatever small thread of control he had left snap, and he uses his other hand to drag her jeans down roughly over her hips to give him room to move. Her head falls back against his shoulder as she spreads her legs slightly, her sigh turning to a groan as his fingers slide against her through the thin cotton of her underwear.

Moving her hand down to rest on his once again, she presses his fingers harder against her, shuddering at the pressure. Her fingers line up over his as she pushes them inside her, her underwear restricting the movement, but she groans anyway. Ward closes his eyes and loses himself in the feel of her slick flesh through damp cotton, and the breathy little moans she makes, at the way she’s using his hand to get herself off.

Still holding his hand tightly in hers, she drags it back up her abdomen and pauses for just a moment before sliding their joined hands beneath her underwear. At the sensation of touching her without any kind of barrier, Ward shudders, rubbing his cock hard against the curve of her ass as they both lean harder against the desk. Trying his hardest to pull himself together, to regain some kind of control over himself, Ward slowly drags a fingertip through her slick folds before sliding up again to rub the moisture around her clit. Pressing lightly against the sensitive nub, he strokes until her breathing turns to sharp gasps. Her hand is no longer guiding his but gripping his wrist instead, her fingernails digging into his skin. Sliding his hand lower again, he sinks two fingers inside her, the feel of her slick heat clenching around him almost undoing him. The heel of his palm is still pressing against her clit, and he curls his fingers into her until he finds her g-spot and rubs against it until she is writhing against him, bent over the desk in front of him. Her breathing is harsh and her moans are driving him insane, her underwear clad ass nestled tightly against his crotch as his body curves around hers, and he can’t stop himself from thrusting against her. When she comes, her entire body tenses under his as she spasms around his fingers and groans his name through her teeth, her body slumping forward to sprawl over the desk, her breathing harsh.

Ward’s pulse is racing, all of his blood running straight to his groin. He struggles to get control of his own breathing as he holds himself up with shaking shaky legs. His hand is still in her underwear, trapped between her body and the desk, but he honestly has no desire to move at all. Eventually though, Skye eases herself back up onto her elbows, glancing back at him over her shoulder and looking almost shy. Suddenly Ward feels awkward and unsure, and he quickly moves his hand to rest on her hip, before dropping it back to fall at his side.

Skye slowly pulls herself back to standing and turns back to face him, adjusting her jeans but still leaving them undone. The corner of her mouth twitches as she looks at the mess they’ve made of Fitz’s desk.

“Fitz is going to kill us for desecrating the lab,” she says with a grin. It fades however, as she remembers. He can feel every unspoken accusation cut right through him as the tension returns to her, her eyes hardening. Her emotions flicker across her face, hurt and betrayal mixing with her desire, and as he watches she seems to shake herself free of some thought process, a determined focus taking over her features again.

She lunges at him, one hand gripping his shoulder as she drags his mouth to hers, her teeth colliding with his lip again. Her mouth is demanding, and she curves her body against him, her arms winding around his shoulders as she deepens the kiss. She pushes his shirt up his chest, her fingers dragging across his abdomen, before breaking the kiss briefly to tug his shirt over his head. He watches her eyes darken as she takes in the sight of him, and he feeds off her desire, feeling his own blood heat at the clear lust in her expression. Leaning back again, she pulls her tank top off, and he can see her smirk at the way his eyes are immediately drawn to her breasts. Her fingers slip through his belt loops once again, and she drags him back towards her. His hands slide down to grip her hips as he kisses her again, and he lifts her up to perch on the edge of the desk, moving forward until he is nestled between her parted thighs.

Pulling the gun from where he tucked it into the hollow of his lower back, he places it on the bench beside them like a dare, and something sparks in her eyes as she reads the challenge, before she pulls his mouth back to her by her grip in his hair. He tugs her hips more firmly against him and she gasps into his mouth at the pressure of his erection rubbing the seam of her jeans against her still tender clit. Her hands are everywhere: sliding down his back to grip his ass, moving up his chest to his shoulder, on the back of his neck, tugging his face closer and angling his jaw to deepen the kiss even more, sliding back down between their bodies to cup him through his jeans.

When he groans and thrusts against the heat of her hand, she grins against his lips, beginning to gently rub him through the denim. His head falls forward to rest on her shoulder, suddenly fearing he is going to lose it like some horny teenager with how worked up he is feeling. His breathing is ragged as he lifts his head back up to press his lips against hers, kissing her hard. Its messy and needy, and he can feel the way her breath catches in her throat as her hand clenches against him. But then her fingers are moving to his fly, dragging down the zip and then tugging the jeans and his briefs down just far enough for his cock to spring free. He has just a moment to register the cool air against him before her warm hand is wrapped around him, pumping him slowly as she opens her mouth under his, her tongue sliding against his own. He growls as she lightly scrapes a fingernail against the vein on the underside of his cock and she smirks into his mouth.

She works her hand on him for a few minutes, until his breathing is harsh and he can’t stop himself from thrusting against her touch, before she releases her grip with one last hard press of her mouth against his. His mouth opens, but his lust-fogged brain is running slow, and she just smirks as she lifts her hips to shove her jeans and underwear down. He catches up in time to help her, catching her feet in his hands and working her boots off before dragging her pants the rest of the way down her thighs and tossing them aside. His mouth is dry as he looks back at her, perched on the edge of the desk in only her bra, her knees parted just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her dark curls. Despite the bravado she seems to be working so hard to project, he can see the flicker of self-consciousness and wariness that crosses her features.

Stepping closer, slow enough that she has time to push him away if she wants, he softly trails his hands from her knees to her hips. She shivers at the light touch, her head tilting back up to meet his gaze. There is still some trace of shyness there, but the heat rushing through him at the sight of her, the smell of her, must be clear in his eyes because he can see the confidence slipping over her again as their eyes hold. His fingertips continue over her hipbones, stuttering slightly as he grips them hard for a moment, his mind skipping ahead to the image of him pounding into her on this desk, of her nails in his skin as she shakes around him, as he cries her name. He feels the heat flare sharply, his need for her overtaking the desire to savor this moment. He knows that this will almost definitely be the only chance he ever has to touch her, to watch her fall apart around him, and he wants to make it last for both of them. He needs to give her something to remember him by, something true and pure.

His hands drift to her lower back, his fingers tracing the indentations in her lower back, dancing lightly up her spine. His mouth is hovering just over hers, almost but not quite touching. Her nose bumps his as her breath brushes over his lips, and as much as he wants to lean that quarter inch closer and kiss her properly there is a part of him that longs to savor this. To commit to memory the way her breath feels against his skin, the way it tastes, the slight whimper in her breath as she tries to lean in closer. He pulls back slightly, just out of reach, and smirks at the frustrated huff she makes in response.

Finally leaning close enough to capture her mouth with his own, he groans at the feel of her soft lips against his. Her mouth opens almost immediately, her tongue coaxing his with a gentle caress. The warmth of her mouth is intoxicating. He meant it when he told her all he wanted was to hide with her somewhere and forget the rest of the world. When he kisses her he forgets everything, wants nothing more than to stay in this moment of perfection forever.

And then her hands are sliding down his chest again, dipping over his abdomen to grip his achingly hard cock in her hands once more. He growls into her mouth as she squeezes him, starting gentle but turning almost rough, and he can feel her smirk against his lips as she tugs him closer to her. He can feel the head of his cock brushing against her now, and he tries so hard to stifle the shudder that passes through him. He can feel the glee she takes in the power she has over him, as she rubs him against her clit. She seems to get just as worked up by the action as he does though, her grip faltering as she groans low in her throat, her eyes falling shut as her mouth drops open.

He is working so hard to hold himself steady, to keep from thrusting into her rough and fast like he wants to, calling on every bit of his self discipline to hold himself back and let her take the lead. The primal need to bend her over the table and pound into her is warring with his need for her love, for her desire, for her to choose him. He pours all of his frustration and his desire into his kiss, tongues and teeth clashing as he kisses her roughly. She meets him with equal passion, eventually breaking the kiss to catch her breath. His eyes are drawn back to her breasts, still cupped in her black bra, as her chest rises and falls harshly while she tries to regain her breath.

Skye’s grip tightens around his cock, drawing his eyes back to hers. She holds his gaze steadily as she lines him up at her entrance, her legs hooking around his hips to pull him closer as he slowly sinks into her. He keeps his eyes on hers for as long as he can, until the sensation of the wet heat of her surrounding him causes his eyes to snap shut, his mind turning to white noise as he slides inside her until he is as deep as he can go. His head has fallen forward to lay heavily against her shoulder, and her hands are gripping tightly to his shoulders to hold herself upright. He takes a long moment to collect himself before he begins to move, thrusting lightly as they both adjust. He’s still trying so hard to hold back, so scared of being too rough with her, of demanding too much for himself. She seems to read his resistance though, and pulls him hard against her with her heels digging into his ass, shivering as the head of his cock drags roughly over her g-spot.

Looking up at him with eyes blown dark with desire, her voice is rough as she demands, “More.”

At her request, and the sight of her flushed skin and kiss bruised lips, of the clear lust in her eyes, he feels the heat inside him flare sharply as his hips push hard against her. His thrusts grow in intensity, her hands tight on his shoulders as her head falls back. She shudders and moans as he rides her, his hands bruising in their grip on her thighs. Everything falls away but the feel of her, hot and tight around him. Her breasts are bouncing lightly, still bound by the lace of her bra, and her voice is broken as she cries out, her words indecipherable. Slowly she drags her gaze back to his, her lips caught between her teeth as her nails clench in his skin, and her voice is dark and low as she whispers again, “More.”

Feeling his blood spark hot in his veins, he hooks his arms under her thighs, gripping her lower back as he pounds into her. The change in position has made everything tighter and hotter, and she clenches hard around him. He growls at the sensation, and she smirks with heavy lidded eyes, dragging her legs up until they hook over his shoulders. As his hips slam into her, he can feel himself approaching oblivion fast, the position driving him insane. He is surrounded by her, and with her hands still clutching his neck she pulls herself close enough to kiss him hard. Her lips are burning hot against his, her nails clutching his skin hard enough to draw blood, and he can’t stop himself from nipping at her lip. Needing to leave some kind of mark on her, the way that she has so utterly devastated him. Bringing one of his hands around between their bodies, he rubs roughly at her clit, smirking in satisfaction as her head falls back again as she cries out. The need to have her crest the wave before him is a fever in his blood, and as she clenches around him with a hoarse shout he feels himself shake. His head falls against her shoulder again, biting down hard as he begins to lose control.

His loses himself in his own orgasm, his thrusts rough and uneven as he falls apart. It feels like being unmade, coming undone in her arms. Like he has lost everything he has ever known about himself but her, like she is the only thing in the world that is real. He clings to her as he shudders, her legs still wrapped around his shoulders as they sprawl across the mess they have made of the desk. It takes a long time for him to return fully, but she seems to be just as lost in the aftershocks as him, her fingertips idly dragging across the nape of his neck as her breathing slowly returns to normal.

Eventually though, they come back to earth. Slowly dragging himself off of her and into an upright position again, he allows her legs to slide off his shoulders and down his arms. There is a strange kind of awkwardness settling over the both of them in the aftermath of what just happened, and he can feel her withdrawing from him even as they are still caught in this lovers embrace. Her face is tucked into her own shoulder, her hair falling over her features like a curtain to hide behind.

Reaching out his hand tentatively to turn her gaze back to him, Ward tries to read her emotions in her face but she remains inscrutable. The silence settles heavily over him as he tries frantically to think of a way to salvage this. He feels as though his entire world has been upended and he no longer feels sure of anything. But her, he needs to feel sure of her. He needs her.

Her eyes are still dark and unreadable, but she tilts her face up to his in a clear invitation of a kiss, and he leans in eagerly. His hands slide along her jaw and into her hair as he angles her jaw to deepen the kiss, he can taste his own desperation but he doesn’t care. He just wants to feel the warmth of her mouth against his, her soft lips contrasting the sharp scrape of her teeth against his flesh. He can’t tell if this kiss is the start of something or a goodbye, and he clings to her regardless.

The plane will have to land eventually, and either Garrett or Coulson will be waiting when it does. He knows there are no other options for the two of them, caught between their conflicting loyalties, with his betrayal stinging sharp against her heart. But still he wishes, just for a little more time, just a moment to figure out a plan, a way for everyone to walk out of this intact, where he doesn’t have to lose the only thing that has ever made him feel alive.