a/n: this was written for a friend and it just went in its own direction. it's rated m for a reason. but not too graphic.

I

He's kissing a trail down her body and the small groan, one so light he's sure if he wasn't listening for it he wouldn't of heard it, makes him smile against her soft, tan skin. The muscles of her stomach undulate as he licks a line to the hem of her pants.

"Stop teasing," she orders him sternly, her voice only slightly breathier than usual and he has to applaud that she's still able to sound authoritative while only wearing a bra and pants.

He nips at the sin of her hips as he starts to slide her pants down her legs and he doesn't miss the way her hips arch into him.

"Phil," she says a bit more forcefully as he pulls away from her.

"Patience," he whispers, just to piss her off, and he feels her glare on his back as he removes his tie and tosses it on the ground beside her shirt.

He's back on her within seconds and he revels in the fact that her legs open to give him room as he kisses another trail down the length of her muscular body.

"Sir?"

Coulson almost knocks her off the desk in his haste to get up and away from her.

"Just a moment, Jemma!" He tries to sound calm as he quickly reties his tie. "Get your shirt, hurry. And fix your hair," he whispers urgently.

She hops down to pick up her shirt only to find it ripped. Down the middle.

"Really, Phil," she says with a groan as she inspects the torn piece of clothing. "This is the second time."

"Under the desk," he tells her.

She raises her eyebrows at him in disbelief. "I am not going under –"

"Sir?" Jemma enquires, beginning to open the door.

With a look that could likely even throw Natasha Romanoff off kilter, Melinda ducks underneath the desk and Phil sits in his seat. He opens his legs so she can have room.

"Come on in, Jemma. Sorry, I was reading this report and time slipped away." The lie was smooth.

Simmons walked in and gave him the strangest look. "You're flushed, Sir," she informs him.

"Am I?"

Melinda almost wants to snicker as she hears the tone his voice takes and she notices that the bulge in his pants is still very much there. Wickedly, she runs her index finger over it and he jerks.

"Are you okay?" Jemma asks, clearly noticing the movement. Of course, the observant one had to find them, Phil thinks to himself bitterly.

Phil takes a breath. "Yes, my leg is just asleep."

Jemma buys it and begins to talk to Phil about something that Melinda could honestly care less about in that moment. She unzips his pants and raises a single eyebrow when she notices he's not wearing underwear. She shrugs, and pulls him through the zipper hole. Easier for her.

She feels him stiffen as her fingers trail up his length, fisting her hand around his erection at the base and squeezing until he lets out a small groan.

"Sir, are you sure you're alright?" Jemma asks, her voice insistent.

"Yes, Jemma, I'm fine," he manages to get out, just as Melinda works her way to her knees slowly so she can wrap her lips around the tip of his cock. His hips thrust up jerkily and he finishes his sentence with an almost-squeak.

One that has Jemma looking at him with worry and Melinda smirking devilishly as she lets him go from her mouth and fists him once more.

"Jemma I actually don't…feel well," he tells her, his voice strained as her hand moves quicker. "Can we continue this a little later when my head isn't so jumbled?"

Melinda keeps in a small chuckle that threatens to break free and wraps her lips around him again, taking him deep into her throat. She braces her hands on his thighs so she doesn't buck up against her. She knows Jemma's gone when his hands fist in her hair.

"Mel…inda…" he groans and she hums around him, bobbing her head in shallow motions. "Stop, stop, stop." She lets him go without hesitation, staring up at him with that damned smirk on her face.

He tugs her up by the hair, knowing full well if she doesn't want to be pulled up that way she wouldn't be. She trusts him this way, he's the only one.

"You're going to kill me," Phil says with a glare, lifting her up and setting her on the desk. He brings his face close to hers, the tips of their noses touching.

She wraps her legs around his waist. "You've survived before," she murmurs as her nimble fingers undo the buttons on his shirt and the tips of her fingers trace the line of his scar.

He kisses her then, hard and rough and sloppily, lifting her from the desk and pressing her against the wall. This is how she likes it when she's not in control—even though, really, she is, because he won't do a thing without making sure it's alright with her first. Hard and dirty.

They shimmy out of their pants, almost clumsily in their haste. Once she's just in her underwear he thumbs her clit through the material as his teeth bite the top of her breast that peaks through the top of her bra.

She digs her nails into his shoulder.

"Enough foreplay," she growls, "I want you inside me."

She moves her body just so and he groans when he finally sheaths himself fully inside her. He gives her no time to adjust, gives her what she wants. Always what she wants.

Her nails pierce the skin of his back as he pounds into her, her back hitting the wall each time and if it's painful she doesn't let it on—or maybe, just maybe, she likes it. His lips find their way to her collarbone, those collarbones, and he bites down. He hears her groan and feels her muscles clench around him.

His thumb flicks against her clit once, twice, thrice, and then she's shattering around him with a sound between a gasp and a cry—his name, like a prayer.

"Come for me," she whispers to him as she rests her sweaty forehead against his cheek—even when she's the one being fucked against a wall, she's still in control.

He does just that, with her name said as a mantra on his lips, and his hips slow and he swears he's not shaking from the intensity, it's just his stamina isn't what it used to be.

Her legs unwrap from around his waist and she stands on sturdy legs. She touches his cheek with the back of her hand and kisses him gently, really gently, her lips soft against his.

"As unexpectedly fun as that was, let's never do that again."

And he smiles at her, because that's something his old Melinda would say.