A/N: I own nothing you recognize. They all belong to Joss and Jed and all the rest. I'm just having some fun and giving them right back.
I know most of the fans prefer the Ward-Skye pairing. Don't get me wrong, Skye is an awesome character. I love her spirit and her enthusiasm and her bravery. She's a cool and independent girl that I wish we could see more like her on TV. But personally, I can't imagine Ward being attracted to someone so young and still undeveloped as her. May is a strong, sexy and mysterious woman. I think Ward would be much more intrigued by her. Also, they have much more in common. Anyway, this takes place just after "The well" and is based on the first few minutes of "Repairs". I really hope you'll like it.
Please tell me what you think.
He closes the door behind him and sees her standing at the counter pouring whisky into two glasses.
"I thought we were ending this." He says dryly.
"We are" she answers after a short pause "it's a special occasion."
She talks quietly, never looks back, only raises one glass towards him when he comes to stand beside her.
He swallows the honey colored liquid in one gulp, feeling the burning sensation in the back of his throat. It doesn't matter. He's all burning inside anyway. When he puts the glass down on the counter he asks "are you sure?"
"I am" she tells him, looking at some unidentified spot on the wall in front of them "It's up to you, Ward. I know you got another invitation."
He holds her by her elbow, slowly turning her towards him. He examines her face carefully from behind the cloud of five, maybe six shots of whisky he'd already consumed "I'm not into young girls" he tells her seriously, feeling a little bit better when she finally meets his eyes "you know me" he whispers, lifting her chin gently, and caressing her lips with his thumb.
"Yes, I do" she whispers under her breath and there's a flicker of light in her eyes when she says it, a fleeting moment when he thinks he sees a glimpse of a promise for an unspoken future deep in those black piercing eyes. It makes him shudder, so she sends a strong reassuring hand and puts it on his chest, and this is when he loses the little hold he still had on his body.
Before either of them knows what's happening he is lifting her in his strong arms and crashes her against him. One hand goes to her hair, the other under her ass. They move around the room frantically, holding at each other desperately, tugging at each other's clothes as his lips find hers in an urgent demand.
She's light and small, so when he's pushing her against the wall, knocking a picture off, and breaking a lamp, he thinks, maybe a vase, he has an initial fear he might hurt her. It's ridiculous, he knows. He'd gone through enough psychological evaluations to realize it's his high protective tendency that has a reign on his brain at that particular moment. She's way too strong than to get hurt so easily. The way she holds him around his neck, tagging at his hair, her teeth scraping his jaw line, his neck, sending jolts of electricity straight to his groin… He hisses when she suddenly bites at his neck violently, penetrating the skin, no doubt. He almost growls with overwhelming need when she turns to cover the offended area with a soft gentle kiss, and a flick of her tongue. He shudders when she hums in approval, as he moves his mouth to her neck. She tastes like the earth and rum and vanilla. He holds her a little tighter when he realizes she tastes like home.
She makes a sudden move with her legs, and he has no idea how it happens, but he finds himself on his back, on the floor. He hears the sound of the glasses falling behind them, shattering to pieces. She's on top of him, her hair spills around their heads as she kisses him long and hard, claiming his mouth, holding his wrists above his head.
"May" he whispers urgently when she gives him a chance to breath. She only smiles, kissing the tip of his nose before moving her finger gently on his severely bruised face.
"May" he tries again, when he shakes the magic of her gentle touch, half mesmerized by the pure love he thinks or hopes he sees in her eyes. She only sits back on his stomach, making sure to put her weight on her heels to avoid hurting his beaten body. He can only lie there, paralyzed with wonder as she removes her clothes slowly, never breaking eye contact.
She's naked and beautiful, and warm above him. He sits up, moving swiftly to hold her head in both hands in order to claim her lips again, with a breathtaking kiss. She hugs him tightly, her arms snake under his shirt, as their teeth knock, their tongues, hungry and hot, fight for dominance inside her mouth.
He rises up from the floor, and carries her to the bed. And she feels so soft in his arms, in a way he once thought was impossible. When he puts her gently on the bed, and turns to remove his own clothes, he misses her warmth immediately.
She sends him a joyful smile when he tries to shed his clothes a little bit too fast for his present state of reduced coordination. But her smile soon disappears when she sees the large rude purple mark on his chest, courtesy of those crazy gods' wannabes. She sends a soft tentative hand to trace it slowly, and he tries not to flinch. He can't help the gasp that escapes his mouth when she touches him, and it's either from the physical pain or from the loving and worried look she sends him, he really has no idea.
"May" he whispers, but she's already on her knees, her hands tangle behind his neck, her lips soft and warm and sweet on his mouth, forcing him to shut up and move towards her, as he surrenders slowly to her magical pull. She lies down on her back, and he hovers above her, intoxicated, captivated, under her spell.
There's no room for words anymore, only skin touching burning skin. Only hands searching, exploring, tongues caressing and worshiping. Until he can't breathe anymore. Until she flutters around him. Until he tenses into her warmth. Until she holds his head in her hands, looking into his eyes steadily as they both crash together, crying each other's name in sweet agony.
She sleeps beside him.
They are both exhausted, from the memories, the whiskey and their consuming connection. He still spends hours just looking at her chest rises and falls under the sheet.
He's been there before. Sleeping next to her, that is. Watching her slender body so soft and pliant next to him, after they've had sex. He always stays up. Looking at her, so close, so soft, wishing for something he isn't sure she's willing to give. He sends a careful hand to stroke her sweaty hair away from her forehead, and holds her against him, trying to cage her in his arms. She only lets him do it when she's asleep. These are the only times he tries.
It all started in Pakistan. After that ridiculous op that failed so spectacularly. It was a few months after he joined the team, when he was still trying to figure out how to handle it. He was still a little resentful, still worried about them choosing him. He has to admit, he was also still a little intimidated by the new responsibility and the burden of having people around him 24/7.
They've joined that big S.H.I.E.L.D extraction mission, and the intelligence was all wrong. They were surrounded even before they've reached their target and it all got really messy. When the shooting was over, and the teams were all cut off and they've found themselves having to go back to the rendezvous point by foot, behind hostiles' line, they were all pretty angry. It's the first time he saw her lose her composure. She told that stupid CO exactly what she thought about his way of handling the operation. When the CO exploded right back, and it all got quite personal, he had to hold her hand, and pull her forcefully back on the trail, making her move quickly as far away from the rest of the team as possible. She complied, at first, until finally she made him stop, turned him around to face her, and tried to say something. The way the moonlight shone on her face, the fury in her eyes, the adrenalin from the fight… He kissed her. She kissed him back. They spent the rest of the night having violent, crazy, frightening sex in the desert, under the moonlight.
They didn't tell anybody. He was adamant about it, and she didn't disagree. They were able to have some short stolen moments, late at night, on the bus, during down time. In his bunk. In hers. In the training room. In the van. It took all his agenty skills to keep a straight face in the mornings. To address her formally, when they were together in front of the rest of the team. To stand around the computer, listening to Coulson's instructions, without imagining her whimpering naked and hot, around him. It took all his emotional strength to look at her standing there beside him, doing her work seriously, as usual, and to see that she doesn't even struggle.
It was easier when they were off the bus. They could be together for the entire night. She let him stay, let him sleep in her bed, and some times he thought that maybe, just maybe, she actually liked it as much as he did.
They used to joke about the stupid stories they made coming back to the bus the following mornings. He made her coordinate their pathways, synchronize their watches. She only rolled her eyes at the way he forced her to go through a comprehensive debrief about it, during their next meeting. She laughed. That rare, beautiful, intoxicating laugh, when he explained that he's only trying to optimize their cover.
She told him it's over in Guatemala.
He couldn't really blame her; it was a really close call.
He was coming out of the training room, after meeting her, when he almost bumped into Coulson who was climbing up the stairs to his quarters. He made a swift, silent retreat back to the training room, and put his hand on her mouth, indicating to her to be quiet. They sat there for almost half an hour, on the floor, against the wall, before they felt it was safe enough to get out.
"We need to end it" she told him before they parted "it's too dangerous. We've became careless."
"We haven't" he retorted quickly "I have it all under control. Trust me."
"It isn't worth it, Ward" she said, moving her hand on his burning cheek .
"You don't mean it" he blurted, almost mortified, regretting his words immediately.
She only looked at him steadily before moving on to her bunk.
He'd hated the staff from the moment he touched it. The heartache, the emotional tempest that is still quietly roaring inside him, had changed him in ways he couldn't even imagine in his worst nightmares. His eyes move to the beautiful woman who's sleeping next to him. He'd do it again in a heartbeat.
.