A/N: I do not own the characters of AOS. Just borrowing them for a while.
This is the way I envision May and Ward's first time.
Please tell me what you think.
"Another one…?" she asks as he slams his empty tumbler on the bar. He nods so she pours two more shots, one for him and one for her.
He throws his head back, gulping the bitter liquid is one swift motion even before she has time to put her own glass to her lips. It's his seventh, maybe eighth drink in a raw, but she can't really blame him. She sighs audibly after she empties her fifth shot for the evening, it was a fucked up mission from the get go. It ended after a twenty one hours long battle and with a last minute escape of their target. The fucking bastard, he still managed to shoot two agents dead and leave three more wounded before he took off in his helicopter. They fought hard, protected their own, and the people in their team were unharmed at the end of it. Unfortunately one of the dead was someone Ward knew from way back in the academy, so when the dust and smoke had subsided he took it upon himself to make the call to the agent's family. He shouldn't have done that, she decides. He's not so good with all this emotional stuff. When he got off the phone, he looked almost… startled… in the most uncharacteristic way… she ordered the others to go check the team in the hotel, left Coulson on the bus to finish the update to S.H.I.E.L.D's command center and pulled him as far away from anything S.H.I.E.L.D related and into the nearest bar she could find.
He slams the glass in front of her again and she starts to feel uncomfortable as he gestures for her to pour him another shot "I think you had enough" she suggests quietly. The place is almost empty now at… almost 2 in the morning, and she sees the bartender looking at them strangely from the other side of the bar while throwing away old dry sliced lemons and other leftovers, preparing for closing time. He just snorts, moving past her to grab the bottle and pour himself another shot of the cheap whiskey. He misses the glass partly and some of the amber colored liquid is spilled on the counter, so she decides it's a good time to call it a night. She indicates to the bartender and slides him her credit card on the wooden surface, as Ward gulps his, hopefully, last shot of the night.
"We're leaving" she tells him gently but firmly, releasing the already empty tumbler from his hand.
"You can leave if you want" he shrugs "I'm staying."
"You're leaving with me or you'll get kicked out." She explains patiently, signing the paper slip and pocketing her credit card. When she's turning towards him, she's satisfied to see that he at least makes an effort to stand up. He wobbles a little, and closes his eyes to try and regain his balance so she grabs his arm to steady him beside her "let's go, agent" she looks at him, a faint smile on her lips. He has that sweet concentrated expression on his face as he's trying to keep upright and fight what seems like a big tidal wave of nausea, all at the same time. The boy is a pathetic drinker, she decides. When he's finally stable enough and they start to walk towards the door he turns and grabs the bottle, to take it with them. Pathetic yes, but quite determined.
They step outside and it's colder than she'd realized. He automatically tightens his jacket around him with one hand as his other arm, which still holds the bottle comes to rest on her shoulders. For balance, she thinks. She slides her arm around his waist, to keep him in check. Yeah, definitely the balance, she tells herself as she's fighting the unexpected contentment she feels in the warmth that radiates from him.
She walks him to the van and opens the door for him, and makes sure he won't fall as he crawls onto the passenger seat and leans back tiredly. He's half asleep beside her when she's making the way back to the hotel in twenty minutes.
When they enter the lobby it's empty. The night clerk only sends them an indifferent glance. She gives him her name and collects her keycard. When they move towards the elevator she's happy to see that Ward is walking a little better after the short rest in the car. She still has to push him into the elevator though, and he crashes against the wall with a thud. He looks exhausted.
They stand there each against an opposite wall, making the slow ride to the 9th floor in silence. He's deadly quiet, almost brooding, but he looks at her from under half closed eyelids with a new strange, penetrating look.
"What?" she asks, a little bit self conscious under his stare. He doesn't answer only continues to look at her, silently, moving his eyes slowly all over her body.
They reach the 9th floor and she realizes she has no idea what's his room number. "It doesn't matter" he mumbles "I don't have my keycard anyway."
She curses internally. They left straight from the bus, left all the arrangements for Skye and Fitz-Simmons. She momentarily thinks about going back to the lobby but Ward is looking a little wobbly again, and she didn't like the night clerk's face anyway… she has no other way but to take him to her room. A night on her sofa will be an educational experience for him, she reassures herself.
Only there's no sofa. She curses Coulson's tight regime. His constant reminders that S.H.I.E.L.D's operational budget allows only for cheap hotels. They stand there in the middle of her room, in front of the big white bad in the middle… "I have to go to the bathroom" he mumbles hoarsely, and makes a run for it.
He comes out of the bathroom after long ten minutes, looking almost… gray... She sits on the bed looking at him curiously. She can't help the tiny smile that appears on her lips when he emerges from the small compartment looking practically the most awake he had looked since the beginning of their night. His hair is a mess; his face wet after spraying himself with cold water, and his shirt is soaked too. He walks purposefully towards her, with a new surge of energy and reaches for the whiskey bottle she placed on the bedside table.
"The first sign of intelligence is the ability to learn from your own mistakes" she informs him drily when he grabs he bottle, making him stop for a second. He only looks at her defiantly before he pulls out the seal and take a big long gulp of whiskey. Very mature. Really. He'd already got rid of his jacket in the bathroom; he stands there wearing his wet white tee-shirt, holding the bottle to his lips. She notices a lone drop of whiskey trailing slowly from the corner of his mouth, down to his strong jaw, to his long muscular neck, until it disappears under his shirt collar. The god damn tee-shirt is way too tight on his broad chest and strong shoulders, if you ask her, she feels a little hot, and she has to take a slow calming breath for some reason, too. The way the air around them feels almost suffocating, all of a sudden, makes her think that maybe she also drank a little bit more than she should have.
She pulls out of her musing to look back at his face and suddenly he's not drinking anymore. He puts the bottle back on the table and roughly whips his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are burning with some strange intensity, similar to the way they did when he looked at her back in the elevator. It's familiar. It's the same look he has when he's preparing for a fight.
"Ward…" she warns quietly. He only steps slowly towards her "Ward!" she says again, a little louder, trying to take control of the situation. He only leans in, hovering above her, invading her personal space, his arms on both her sides, effectively capturing her on the bed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asks, trying to sound angry, but the way he looks at her, in an almost predatory way, the heat that radiates from his body, the way he smells and probably the whiskey too make her lose her train of thoughts completely.
"Ward…!" she gasps again, almost inaudibly, as her hand goes to his chest, to somehow push him away and stop this lunacy... His only answer is to kiss her, violently, and to reach with his arm behind her back, to crash her entire body against him without even asking.
He doesn't need to ask, apparently, because instead of pushing him away and slamming her right fist into his arrogant face as she should have, she finds herself moving her arm quickly, holding him around his neck and deepening the kiss.
Having sex with agent Ward is… just like she thought having sex with agent Ward would be. The same things that make him an excellent field agent make him an excellent lover as well. She blesses S.H.I.E.L.D academy silently for the superior training they gave him. He's strong, and self disciplined, and he approaches their love making with the same meticulous way he approaches any other of their operations. He has good spatial awareness, he can pick up subtle clues and small movements and his responses are quick even in this half drunken state. The way he touches her, the way he makes her body react, his strong and determined movements… when she finally crashes on top of him, her head on his chest, her legs still trembling… fuck!… she raises her head slowly to make sure he's okay after what they just did… well, amazingly he is... When she looks at him he looks right back at her, in a sweet and serious way that makes her shiver with unexpected excitement. When he sends his hand up to slowly move the sweaty hair away from her face… he looks at her with so much adoration, she suddenly asks herself what the hell did she got herself into? He leans in to kiss her, and despite all the warning bells that are ringing violently in her ears, instead of pushing away from him, covering herself up with the sheet and running to the bathroom like she should, she smiles at him contentedly and kisses him right back.
The next morning when she wakes up, it takes her a few seconds to remember where she is. She opens her eyes, squinting at the bright light that comes through the window. When she moves, she feels how her body aches in a delicious kind of way she hadn't felt for a very long time. She looks to her right and sees Ward's broad back next to her. He's sprawled on his stomach, naked, his glorious body shines in the soft sunlight. She sighs with frustration, how could she let this happen? What in the name of god possessed her when she went on with this? She gets out of bed silently, and goes to the bathroom. She spends a few minutes in front of the mirror, examining the multiple red and blue marks on her thighs and abdomen, and she's quite sure those are not from yesterday's battle. She showers carefully, and puts on her uniforms. When she's out of the shower she looks like herself again, ready for him to wake up.
When he wakes up he finds her sitting on a chair on the far side of the room. His head hurts, his eyes hurts, his muscles are sore. He sits up, slowly, grimacing with pain with every movement. He smiles to himself, with not exactly undeserved smugness, when he discovers the physical toll you pay for having sex with Melinda May. When he's able to think straight again, and to send her a careful, questioning look, one glance at her guarded, closed face teaches him that things are already completely different than what happened between them last night.
"It's late" she says coldly "you should move faster." He only looks at her silently, rubbing his face, trying to wake himself up.
"What time is it?"
"Seven thirty. It's late."
"Coulson said debriefing is at 09:00" he reminds her, looking around the room for his clothes.
"You still have to go find your room, and get in there as discreetly as possible" she reasons.
He looks at her thoughtfully for a few seconds, but she looks at him right back, offering no sign of emotion, so finally he has no other choice but to lean over and grab his shorts from the floor. She just sits there, looking at him silently as he's putting his clothes on, slowly, each movement a tormented endeavor after their crazed hookup. When he finishes, he moves his hand awkwardly on his head, trying to control his unruly hair. She's still quiet when he walks to the door and presses the handle.
He pauses for a second at the door… hoping for some kind of reaction… but obviously, there is none. "See you on the bus" he throws at her finally as he closes the door behind him.
AN2: I wonder if I should write a sequel