Blind Spot

When he agreed to be Skye's S.O., Grant had no idea what he was getting into.

It wasn't that she was that hopeless or stubborn – well, she was stubborn, and she had absolutely zero experience, and she tended to complain a lot, but it soon turned out that she was hard-working and determined, and she was getting better and better every day. So no, it wasn't the problem.

The problem was that he wanted her.

He wanted her every minute of the day, and it just got worse when they had training – when she was within arm's reach, her skin under his fingertips, her scent in his nose, her very being enveloping his senses. It made every single training sessions a sweet torture – touch her, but don't linger; step close, but not too close; feel the contours of her body, but don't act like all you wanted to is to grab her hair and press her against the wall and drive into her.

Basically, under the surface every one of their sessions was about whether he could keep his carnal desires under control.

So far he thought he was doing an okay job – there was no way she could have guessed that lately she was staring in every one of his late night fantasies.

Well, at least he was somewhat certain of that.

"Again. Lift your leg a little higher!" he commanded curtly, keeping the punching bag steady for her. Skye let out an annoyed grunt, but did what he asked.

They were going through some of the kicking techniques, and he would have been lying if he said it wasn't making him all hot and bothered – watching as Skye worked, her leg swinging high before colliding with the bag, her muscles tensing, her pants stretching over her ass, sweat glistening on her forehead and collarbone and on the thin strip of skin that was showing between her pants and the hem of her top… She was terribly distracting.

She kicked again, grunting with the effort, and he swallowed. He desperately hoped she didn't catch that.

But of course she did.

She relaxed her stance and looked at him, panting, her eyes moving as if she was having an argument with herself. Then she closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them she stepped forward and grabbed his arm, and without any kind of explanation, she started pulling him away. And, the fool he was, he let her.

She led him through the deserted lab, back to the dimly lit hallways of the avionics bay, where she just stopped suddenly. There she turned to face him, hesitated for a moment once again – meanwhile he tried to figure out why she brought him there –, and then the next moment she was kissing him with fervor.

(That was the moment when he realized why she had brought him there – apart from the bathroom and the bunks, this was the only blind spot of the Bus's surveillance system.)

He froze for a moment, startled, but then he was kissing her back, his passions matching hers, one hand in her hair, the other on the small of her back, pulling her close. But then she pulled away.

"Cut the chase, Ward," she told him, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. "You can stop this whole… pretending stuff. I want you and I know you want me – I can feel it," and with that she boldly cupped him through his pants, making him hiss. "You can try to act all noble about it, and feed yourself every kind of excuses about why this shouldn't work and why it shouldn't happen, but you know what? All you are accomplishing with this is that you get all grumpy and unsatisfied, and me? I'm left dripping and aching. You really should learn to go against the rules and relax a little, Agent Ward. You'd do a great favor to both of us with that."

He was just about to answer to that – although he had no idea what he could say –, but then there was a mischievous glint in her eyes, and she spoke again before he could have opened his mouth.

"And you know what? I'm going to help you with that."

Then, before he could comprehended what was happening – let alone stopped her –, she dropped to her knees in front of him, and was already pulling down his pants and underwear, freeing his cock.

This was the last moment he could have stopped her – but to be honest, he didn't want to.

So he just watched as she took his half-hard member into her hands – he didn't miss the appreciating glint in her eyes –, running her fingers along his length, and curling them around him – making his blood rush towards his member, almost leaving him light headed –, before taking him inside her mouth.

His head falling back, he let out a loud moan – he was in heaven.

The hot, wet cavern of her mouth enveloping his cock, working him expertly – her lips wrapping around his girth, sucking him, her tongue running along the underside of his member –, it was already enough to lose his mind, but she was using her hands, too, working on what she couldn't fit into her mouth, he was soon seeing starts and was fast losing sense of himself.

He was eternally grateful that they were not only standing at a blind spot, but also out of the range of any microphone – because the sounds, the desperate moans, that were breaking free from his throat would have been hard to explain.

For a while, he managed to keep his hands to himself, clenching them into fists by his side as he panted, but then she somehow flicked her tongue over his head and then started humming (he had no idea where she might have learned that, but damn, he was glad for it), and he couldn't take it anymore. He reached out and threaded his fingers into her hair, pushing her closer, encouraging her to go faster, while he tried not to wildly thrust into her mouth.

It's been a while for him – specialists, despite their skillset, were no James Bond, to find a new lay or two every single mission –, and as much as he wanted to make the moment last, he soon reached his limit. He made a half-hearted attempt to warn her, weakly trying to pull her off of him, but she just kept bobbing her head, taking him even deeper into her mouth, while her hands pumped the base of his shaft.

He came into her mouth the next moment, shooting his seed down her throat in hot spurts, and she took it, swallowing without complaint, receiving everything that he had to give. When he was done, he all but slumped against the wall of the corridor. But then she sat back on her heels and looked up at him with a cheeky grin on her face, her lips still beautifully swollen.

That was when something in him irrevocably snapped.

Reaching down and grabbing her arms – not caring about the fact the he still had his pants pushed down to his knees – he hastily pulled her up and bending his head down, crashed his lips against hers, kissing her almost aggressively, pulling her lower lip between his teeth, then thrusting his tongue into her mouth, feeling himself on her tongue.

"I'm so going to pay you back for this tonight," he panted against her lips when he finally came up for air.

"I'm counting on it," was her only reply.