His mouth is firmly attached to her pussy, his fingers deep inside her, and she’s so close, clutching at him, moaning and begging and cursing him out, and there’s a buzzing and rattling in her ears and… oh. One of the phones on the nightstand is going off, and years of training have her reaching for it without thinking, snapping it open and answering, “Hill,” and sounding only a little out of breath, go her. There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then Fury is asking for Coulson, and shit, she didn’t even look at which phone it was, and her career flashes before her eyes and her arousal dims as she somehow manages an obviously-too-casual, “One sec.”
She holds the phone out to Phil, who’s watching her as his tongue flickers over her clit, and mouths, “It’s Fury.” His eyes widen and he sits up, takes the phone with the hand that’s not currently buried inside her, and says, in that cool, unflappable way of his, “Coulson,” as if he was in his office and not naked between Maria’s legs, and she can’t help but hate him a tiny bit for the ability and find it incredibly sexy at the same time.
He proceeds to have an entire conversation with Fury – in that calm, collected manner – while still working his fingers inside her and over her clit, and she has to stuff her fist in her mouth, and then a pillow, in an effort to keep quiet because, while having Phil in her bed is amazing and fun and awesome, having Agent Coulson in her bed is mind-blowingly hot, and he knows it. She quickly finds herself on the edge again and tries to pull her hips away from him, tries to get some space to collect herself so Fury won’t hear her screaming out her orgasm, but Phil’s hand follows her no matter how much she squirms, and it takes all her effort and will not to come.
Just when she thinks she can’t bear anymore, she hears him hang up, hears him say, cool and detached, “You can come, now,” and she explodes, white noise in her ears, shouting “Phil!” and “God!” and “Fuck!” over and over, and if it’s not a full-on squirt it’s damn near close, and she pulls the pillow from her face in time to see him lick and suck her juices from his hand and stroke himself off onto her thigh with a shout of his own.
He collapses against her, breathless, and she drags her fingers through his come and sucks her fingers clean, and he groans at the sight and kisses her deeply.
“So, what did Fury want?” she asks when they part, not looking at him, and trying to sound like she’s not quietly panicking and failing miserably because, while Phil is not actually her boss, he is, technically, a superior agent. Phil just waves a hand in the air.
“Evil masterminds, rampaging minions, the usual. He wants us in the Sit Room in twenty.” Then he turns her to face him, meets her eyes and strokes his fingers along her cheek, and when he speaks again his voice is soothing. “Don’t worry about it. SHIELD doesn’t care who anyone sleeps with as long as it doesn’t affect their job performance. Psych will want to meet with us, make sure it’s not an abuse of power, but after that no one will care.”
“And Fury?” Because she admires the man immensely, and places a high value on his opinion of her, and would hate to disappoint him. Phil smiles.
“Glad he only had to make one phone call.”
She laughs, and he pulls her from the bed and into the bathroom to clean up.