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Automatic Locks

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The SUV- they don't have a good name for it yet, the Baby Bus didn't stick- has become kind of a little nest for Skye, a little cocoon where she can go and be alone- or as alone as it gets when you live with an assload of people on an airplane. It feels good there in her tiny den, makes her feel comfortable and protected from the world, just like her van used to make her feel.

That all sounds really sweet, but the fact that she's sitting there with her pants around her thighs and her hand in her panties maybe spoils that illusion.

She needs to get off, she needs to get off so bad, she's started having those strange sex dreams where she wakes up having an orgasm, which sounds awesome until it happens and you realize it just feels weird and a little uncomfortable. But all she needs is to come, just once, just enough to tide her over for a while, because apparently living here is something she does now, and her bunk is just right there, around people, people who could hear at any point.

She's getting really close, though it's taking longer than she wants without her vibrator, which she just couldn't fathom taking with her, the idea of some poor SHIELD sap finding it in the van so preferable to having Coulson- or holy shit, May- find it. Still, she's getting there, almost there, just about to hit it-

And then the door opens.

She gasps, yanking her hand out of her panties like that will make it totally not obvious what she's been doing in here, like she's been in here working the crossword puzzle with her pants down.

"Hi," Coulson says, giving her the ostensibly friendly look that kind of makes her want to punch him. She would be totally within her rights to do it right now, even if she was just debauching SHIELD property and is almost definitely in the wrong here.

"It is what it looks like," she says, going for incensed and annoyed instead of contrite, which she isn't very good at. "The doors were locked for a reason."

"You can't lock them from the key fob when the other keys are in the ignition," Coulson says calmly, and Skye cranes her neck, peering at the steering wheel. Shit. "You shouldn't have both sets of keys in here at the same time. You could lock them both in."

She purses her lips. "You're a bunch of SHIELD agents, if you can't break into-" She sighs angrily. "Look, get in or get out, but shut the fucking door."

At this point she's expecting to be ordered to clean up and leave, to be given a stern look that means a future lecture. At best she's expecting a warning to lock the doors in the future. Exactly the opposite of what she's expecting is for Coulson to slide into the car next to her and shut the door- and hit the lock, because apparently she hasn't gotten to the part of SHIELD training that includes really obvious shit like that.

And then Coulson does the only thing that's less likely than that: suddenly he's leaning over her, kissing her. His mouth is hot against hers, and she should be really pissed, but as it turns out he's a really good kisser, and she's a little too shocked by that information and by the whole situation to do anything but kiss back.

When he pulls away, Skye is kind of unable to do anything but say, "Holy shit," and stare.

"You said get in," Coulson says, low and husky and personal, intimate, in a way that she never expected to hear him, in a way that she was certain he couldn't sound.

"I didn't say get in me," she says indignantly, because she feels like she's supposed to feel way more indignant than she does right now. She's not sure what she feels right now, but indignant for some reason isn't on the list.

He moves away from her, far enough to be polite but not far enough to be gone, not far enough to burst the bubble of whatever-this-is that's formed around them. "Do you want me to leave?"

That's a really unfair question; he totally knows that she doesn't have the slightest clue what she wants. If you'd asked her when she woke up this morning whether she wanted to get it on with Coulson, who is not only her boss and old enough to be her father but also quite possibly an actual robot, she'd have thrown a shoe at you.

He's still waiting.

"No," she says, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back in, because it isn't really like her to make smart choices when she can do what she- apparently, without knowing it until like thirty seconds ago- wants.

She somehow never managed to actually pull her pants up, but it's super convenient, because the first thing he does is push them down further, far enough that she can spread her legs. He pushes her panties down too, and it's weird for a second to have her bare ass sticking to the leather seat, but then he has his fingers in her, and worrying about something like that seems really stupid.

Fingering is a big waste of time with most guys, because they don't know what the fuck they're doing and it just feels kind of uncomfortable and a little clinical. Coulson isn't most guys, as it turns out. He knows exactly where he's going with this, not just sort of blindly jabbing at her. He's playing with her clit and moving his fingers just so and Skye lets her head fall back, even though her head hits the seatbelt and she can feel how it's ruffling up her hair. Coulson breaks away from her mouth, but he doesn't miss a beat, kissing down her neck, sucking and using his teeth in a way that she should probably tell him is going to bruise, but whatever, she's got enough hair to cover it. Life goes on.

It's so good, so much better than it was alone and that was pretty damn great. She needed this so fucking badly, and she's so ready, wouldn't have to do anything at all to come but sit here and let it happen. That would be so great, but she's got what she's guessing is a perfectly functional man right here on top of her, and she can do so much better.

"Stop," she says, pulling his hand away, because she really is going to come if he keeps doing that. "Stop for a second."

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice deep and a little hazy, concerned but every so slightly annoyed.

She puts her hands on his face, pulling him up to look her in the eyes. "I need you to fuck me. I don't care if you have a condom, I'm on the shot. Just do it."

She's never seen anyone change their expression so slightly and make it turn that intensely filthy before. "How do you want it?"

She actually has no idea. She just wanted dick, and that kind of distracted her from the spacial problem that it presented. She can't figure out anything that doesn't involve kicking out the sunroof or putting her foot behind her head or something. That's not what she's into, and any of that is going to lead to her having to explain a lot of things that she doesn't want to explain.

Coulson's just looking at her, quite obviously enjoying her discomfort. He raises his hand to his mouth, licking his wet fingers, and Skye just wants to melt and never coagulate again. She's not sure how they'll write that on an official form, how Coulson killed her with sex while they weren't even fucking, but someone else will have to figure it out, because she'll be long gone.

"Fuck it," she says, annoyed and greedy. She pushes her pants off, kicking them down into the floor somewhere; it stings when she peels herself off the seat, but oh well. She has to turn and crouch and move funny, but then she's straddling Coulson's thighs. If she bangs her head, she's just gonna have to bang her head, because she's doing this no matter what.

She starts in on his belt, unbuckling and unbuttoning and unzipping. He groans when she finally gets her hand around his cock, and she grins, stroking him a few times just to tease him, just because she can, just so she can get a little back. He doesn't let her get away with it for long, pulling her down and kissing her hard, putting his hand on her hip to guide her. She lets herself drop, lets herself ease into it, take him in slowly. She hasn't done this in a while, and she forgets how good it feels, so much better than anything she can do on her own. It's entirely possible she's just using him to get off, but he's the one who was just going to finger her, so he's the one who's really coming out ahead in this deal.

She doesn't really have that much room to work with, but it's enough. She has to stay close, let her head hang, hold onto him tight as she moves her hips, pushing down against him as he thrusts into her- okay, she probably doesn't have to hold on as tightly as she does, but it feels good, grounding, safe, as safe as fucking in a SHIELD vehicle with only one locked door really can be.

"Are you close?" Coulson asks, and his voice is tight, bitten off, like he's going to come any moment now, like she's done him in, and that is so incredibly fucking satisfying that she kind of wants to cheer.

"Uh huh," she says instead. "Just keep- just keep doing that, I'm right there-"

Coulson pulls her head down, kissing her hard, biting at her lips as he pushes up into her again and again and again and then she's shaking, back arching as she comes, her hand gripping Coulson's shoulder hard, hard enough that she knows she's hurting him. It must not matter very much to him, because he gets a few more good thrusts in and then he swears loudly and pulls her down against him, coming inside of her, filling her up.

She drapes herself over him, her arms around his neck as she breathes, heavy and sated. His fingers trace up and down her spine under her shirt, and it's comfortable- or at least it's not awkward yet, she won't know which one for a while.

"I'd tell you we should try that in your car, but I don't think you'd appreciate it," she says.

"Despite what you might have heard, I do have a sense of humor," he tells her. "But defiling a car like that is no laughing matter."

She laughs, a little surprised that he actually does have the capacity to be funny. It lessens the sting a little of when he pushes her away, turning her around so she ends up back in her original seat. She wasn't expecting anything from this moment, not anything good or special, but it's still a little bit of a letdown when he just tucks and zips and buckles himself up, then opens the door and slides out of the car again.

He doesn't close the door, not immediately, just stands there and looks at her. Now he seems all business, and she feels a little small, for reasons she can't really explain.

"Next time, lock the doors," he says, all disapproving Coulson. But then he smiles, just slightly, just enough for her to see. "Or don't."

She shakes her head, feeling better somehow. "Will do, A.C.," she says, and he rolls his eyes.

Then he closes the door.