Ward grabs Megan by the upper arm, turning her back around to face him. She’s glowering, lips set in a line, and Ward feels the way muscles shift and dance in his hold in indication that she’s getting ready to pull free. So his fingers tighten, his arm jerks and drags her closer until her shoulder is pressed against his chest and they’re both breathing hard but it’s not from exertion as they stare at each other.
Electricity crackles between them and they can feel it dancing along their skin, feel it tingling at the tips of their fingers and toes. All it takes is for Megan to exhale slowly as if trying to calm herself that Ward leans in to kiss her, not wanting her to be calm but needing her to continue to be just as worked up as he is. Because if the flush that tints her skin is anything to go by she wants this just as badly as he does and he’ll be damned to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.
This game they’ve been playing, the facade put in motion for this unsanctioned undercover mission where they’re both making asses of one another to prove how “married” they are, has taken its toll. This is the culmination of all the fake kisses and the even faker caresses put on for strangers they’ll never see again. All of it finally spilling over into this moment where they’re kissing, grabbing onto one another, and as she sighs into his mouth he takes advantage of it to run the tip of his tongue along the edges of her teeth.
His hands at her hips lift her up as if she weighs nothing at all, pushing her against the shelves that rattle with the force of the action. They greedily drink in every sound the other makes, finding that it’s a hundred times better than all the scenarios they had ever imagined on the nights they couldn’t fall asleep (that they will never, ever admit to).
Megan’s nails claw at cotton, pulling the hem of his shirt free of his slacks with impatient tugs so that hands can slip beneath, touch skin pulled taut over muscle. Fingertips dance along his ribs, trace over scars here and there, and she smiles triumphantly when she curls her fingers and lightly drags her nails and he’s breathing harder against her mouth.
She groans when Ward’s hands abandon her waist, leaving her to support her own weight with her legs wrapped around him. Large hands reach back to start their ascent up her legs at her ankles, massaging her calves, squeezing under her knees, the underside of her thighs. It’s as he’s well on his way to finding out that underwear really isn’t her thing that the study’s door swings open with matching surprised gasps. Ward’s head cranks around as Megan’s head drops back with a heavy thunk against the shelf punctuating Tim and Diane’s knowing laughter.
"Keeping the honeymoon stage alive, I see."
Ward’s hands go missing and Megan untangles herself from him. They don’t look at one another and instead focus on putting on their too cheerfully guilty smiles at being caught, chuckling quietly while fixing their clothes and offering apologetic looks.
