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She hears the door to the hotel room open and nervously reaches for her I.C.E.R. on the table. She exhales sharply, closing her eyes in relief, when she hears her name and his voice. She lets go of the weapon and heads straight for the other room.
“Where have you been?” she asks, a tad of frustration in her tone.
“Looking for you!” he replies, shrugging his shoulders and lifting a black duffle bag off his shoulders, holding onto it with one hand.
“Oh well,” she exclaims annoyed, walking towards him and gesturing at the room. “I’ve been here … at the rendezvous point… like we discussed!”
“And Mack?” he asks.
“In the quinjet, loading equipment,” Jemma explains.
Fitz drops the bag to the floor and nervously fidgets with the hotel keys in his hands. “Well,” he mutters quietly before dropping the keys on top of the bag and taking a few steps towards Jemma.
She inhales sharply, nervous about what’s to come.
“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Fitz says, taking another step until he’s right in front of her.
He exhales sharply, gazing into her eyes, and Jemma can’t take hers off him. She had worried for hours not knowing what happened to him after they had been separated, thinking he could be dead, thinking they had missed their chance, thinking what they could have had ended before it began.
She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to think.
We should stop thinking altogether… and just do.
She straightens up, waiting for him to speak. And then she sees it in his eyes: his desire. He lets out another puff of air and Jemma knows. She knows he wants to be done talking too.
And finally she feels his lips on hers, and she reaches up to pull him closer, to feel that he’s truly there, truly alive, truly hers. She reaches for his coat and pulls it over his shoulders, allowing him to drop it to the ground, while she eagerly takes off her own jacket, never breaking their kiss. Her hands reach for his tie, his shirt, and she giggles quietly. She’s done talking. Ready to do. Ready to feel. Ready to cross the event horizon. She tugs on his shirt, pulling it halfway out of his trousers. Just for a split second, her hand brushes against his naked skin and it feels as if the energy it emanates enters her fingertips like an exhilarating jolt. His hands reach around her waist, pulling her closer, and eagerly, drawn to him like metal to a magnet, her hands glide up to his neck. She wants to feel his lips even tighter against her own.
“Jemma,” he says quietly and grabs her hands, breaking their kiss.
She’s breathing heavily, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Why? Why did he stop? Why the hesitation? Done talking. Done waiting.
“Yeah?” she asks, trying to hide her nervousness behind a smile. The only thing stopping her from panicking is the way in which he holds her hands between his, the way his forehead rests against hers.
“Your hands are freezing,” he whispers, and Jemma opens her eyes to see his beaming down at her.
She chuckles, realizing that he’s teasing her. “Are they?” she asks quietly, looking down at their intertwined hands. She frees them from his grasp, but his hands only slide down to her wrists. Jemma touches her cheeks with the backs of her hands, a brief shiver running down her spine at the sensation. He was right. Her hands were cold. As if the fear over his absence, over not knowing where he was, if he was alive, had extinguished a fire inside of her.
“Ooh,” she exclaims, taking her hands off her face and looking back up at him. “They’re like little ice buckets, aren’t they?” she jokes, as he cups her hands in his, pulling them to his mouth. He exhales and the warm feeling of his breath against her skin slowly surges from her fingertips to her hands, arms and through her entire body, making her chuckle.
He presses their intertwined hands against his chest, and the look in his eyes is something Jemma has never seen before, a love so true and deep and honest she’s unsure if it had even existed in the world until this very moment.
She takes a deep breath. “Do you think you can brave it?” she jokes, surprised by the raspiness of her own voice.
His eyes are dark and longing when he replies, “I’ll do my best to power through.”
Jemma can’t help but smile as he leans closer, as she feels his lips on hers again, as he slowly guides her towards the bed. Or was she pulling him along with her? She can’t tell.
She lets herself fall onto the mattress, her breathing getting more rapid when he follows her, when he presses his lips against hers. Her fingers reach for his cheeks, and she smiles as their kiss continues.
Jemma rolls him onto his back, her lips never leaving his, and whatever worries still occupied her mind slowly disappear into nothingness as their kiss gets more heated.
The need for air forces their mouths apart, and to Jemma’s surprise, Fitz puts his hands on her shoulders and gently stops her from leaning straight back down to him once her lungs have sufficiently replenished their oxygen supply.
“Do we need? I mean, I don’t have… I mean—” Fitz stammers, out of breath.
Jemma smiles, realizing what he’s asking. “IUD,” she whispers.
“Right,” Fitz replies, a smile playing on his lips. He swallows. “I should have known that. I knew that. You’ve had one since—”
Jemma leans down to shut him up with a kiss, before rolling off him to the side to pull him on top of her. Her hands reach for his tie, longing to get one step closer to the defining moment, to their singularity.
But as soon as she tries to loosen the tie, he scrambles backwards to get off the bed. He’s panting in panic, one hand on his hip, the other one gesturing towards her.
“I…I,” he stammers. “I just… Well—” Jemma almost feels like she can see the breath he slowly draws in before exhaling sharply. “We’re about to see each other naked,” Fitz finally states matter-of-factly.
“Are we? Because right now it looks like you’re back paddling,” Jemma replies, unable to hide her disappointment.
“No, no, no,” Fitz exclaims, taking a nervous step back towards the bed. “I’m not ! I definitely, definitely want—” He sighs. “It’s… well—” He lets out another puff of air. “We’re about to see each other naked and… well… I’m just a tad concerned that maybe one of us could be slightly disappointed with what they’ll see.” He finishes his sentence much quicker than he started it.
Jemma can’t help but smile at his ridiculous worry. “You think you’ll be disappointed with what you’ll see?” she teases him.
He lets out a quiet chuckle and drops his shoulders. “We both know that’s not what I meant.”
“Fitz,” Jemma says carefully, getting off the bed until she stands in front of him. She looks intensely into his eyes and cups his face, leaning in slowly.
“First of all,” she whispers against his lips, before kissing him softly. Her hands glide to his tie. “What happened to stop thinking?” Her eyes are locked onto his while she undoes the tie, slowly pulling it from underneath his shirt collar. He draws in a slow breath, as she drops the tie to the floor.
Her fingers slowly move to the top shirt button. “Second of all,” she says, leaning in for another kiss and opening the button at the same time. “What happened to just doing?” He inhales again, his breath sounding shaky.
“Third of all—” Her hands move to the next button as she kisses him once more. “I know I won’t be disappointed.”
She places another peck onto his lips. “You know I’ve already seen everything.”
“What?” Fitz exclaims, wide-eyed, removing her hands from his shirt and taking a step back. “When did you? How did you? Why did you? … What? ”
Jemma is surprised when she realizes that he doesn’t remember. “At the conference in San Francisco,” she clarifies. “I went into the bathroom of our shared suite thinking you were still at a panel—”
“You…you said you didn’t see anything!” Fitz cries out, pointing his finger at her.
“Fitz,” Jemma counters, wrinkling her forehead. “You stepped out of the shower, stark naked, giving me a full frontal … Of course I saw something.” She exhales sharply. “I said that I didn’t see anything to be polite … to make the moment less awkward.”
Fitz’s hands rest on his hips and he’s breathing heavily, his eyes wandering from left to right. Then he looks up and points at her. “You have an advantage over me then,” he remarks, one corner of his mouth quirking up barely noticeably.
Jemma can’t help but grin. “And I’m more than happy to remedy that,” she says suggestively.
A smile flashes across Fitz’s face as he takes a step closer to her, bringing his arms around her waist. “So you didn’t mind what you saw back then?”
“No,” Jemma replies, shaking her head. “Quite the contrary,” she admits. “But you were my best friend and lab partner and it seemed highly inappropriate to keep thinking about it.”
“But you kept thinking about it,” Fitz concludes, his tone slightly smug and triumphant.
“What do I have to do to get you to shut up, Leopold Fitz?” Jemma asks, teasingly.
He sighs and his eyes glaze over as he looks at her once again, far too seriously.
Jemma stops smiling, searching his eyes, her heart full of concern.
“We don’t have to do this Fitz,” she says quietly, reaching for his cheek with her hand. “Maybe this isn’t the right moment? After yet another dramatic mission? We don’t have to do this, Fitz,” she repeats.
“I know,” he replies and exhales sharply. “But I want to, Jemma, I want to. I want you . I.... I just can’t seem to stop the thinking part.” He shakes his head, scoffing quietly. “I know that was my suggestion but ... I can’t.”
Jemma inhales slowly. “Maybe we don’t have to stop thinking,” she suggests, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe we just have to stop over thinking; stop worrying.”
One of his hands reaches for her face, and Jemma closes her eyes briefly when his fingers tenderly comb through her hair.
She opens her eyes and sees that his are fixed onto the side of her head, where his fingers are playing with her waves. “Look at me, Fitz,” she whispers and cups his face. “Let’s not stop thinking. Let’s think about the fact that we’re here . Together . Let’s think about everything we’ve overcome to get to this point. Let’s think about how we almost lost each other again today. Let’s think about how we didn’t want to waste time anymore. Think about what you want , Fitz. What you long for. Think about how I long to be with you, too. How I want to be close to you. One with you. Think about how no one can take this —right now—from us.”
A tear rolls down his face and Jemma catches it with her thumb, carefully wiping it away. His breathing is picking up speed again as his eyes grow darker. And finally his arms—still wrapped around her—pull her closer, and his lips crash onto hers with passion and love and lust. Slowly he walks them back to the bed. Her hands reach for the buttons of his shirt that she hadn’t opened yet, but he pushes her fingers aside, opening the buttons himself and shedding the shirt from his shoulders before reaching back around her waist.
She loses her balance when her legs hit the bed and allows herself to sit down. He bends down, continuing to kiss her. He reaches for the zipper at the back of her top and opens it, before sliding his hands down to grab the hem, pulling the silky white fabric slowly up over her head. He pauses and looks at her as she sits in front of him in her bra. He’s panting and so is she. Jemma reaches for his naked shoulders and pulls herself back to standing. Her hands wrap around his neck, and she makes herself taller to capture his lips in another passionate kiss.
One of Fitz’s hands glides down her back and across her behind. He pulls her leg up by the knee and wraps it around his waist and she allows herself to lean into him, letting him keep her steady as her hands work their way down to his belt.
He lets go of her leg and gives her room to undo his belt and trousers, resting his hands on her shoulders. Their eyes are fixed onto each other. He pulls his trousers down and steps out of them, taking off his shoes and socks in the process. He looks nervous, standing in front of her in nothing but a light blue pair of boxers. Jemma smiles encouragingly and Fitz steps closer. With a hint of hesitation, his hands touch her waist, gliding to the small of her back. His fingers are slightly rough and the sensation against her sensitive skin is intoxicating. He traces her spine down to the hem of her trousers and slowly follows it from the back to the front, the anticipation of where his hands are headed sending shivers down Jemma's spine.
His fingers tremble slightly when they reach for the button of her trousers, when they open it and slowly pull down the zipper, revealing some of her black silky panties. Curiously, he touches the black fabric causing Jemma’s breath to catch at the back of her throat. He looks up at the sound and his eyes seem to be asking her permission to proceed. She smiles back at him and nods ever so slightly. Slowly he pulls down her tight trousers, placing a few exciting kisses on her flat stomach as he bends down to kneel in front of her, helping her take off her shoes. Jemma leans on him for support before stepping out of her trousers.
Fitz straightens back up and his hands reach for her shoulders, slowly gliding down her arms. His eyes are locked onto hers. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice unusually raspy.
“So are you,” Jemma replies, smiling at him sincerely. Her hands glide around his waist, up his back to his shoulder blades, and she pulls him closer until their hungry lips meet once again.
Fitz leans her back until gravity forces Jemma to sit down on the edge of the bed. Slowly, she begins to scoot further back onto the mattress. Fitz hesitates and Jemma takes the opportunity and opens the clasp of her bra, pulling it off and throwing it to the side before leaning back to rest on her elbows. The cool air from the air conditioning brushes over her naked skin and she feels goose bumps forming. She closes her eyes. She doesn’t feel cold, as she lies in front of him in nothing but her panties. It’s like his hands on her skin, his kisses on her lips have formed a warm shield around her.
She waits for him, anticipates his touch, longs for his hands to glide up her legs, up her body, yearns for his lips to find hers again. She opens her eyes when the silence in the room becomes deafening, when she fears that time has stopped, that she’s waking up from a dream to find him gone.
Fitz still stands at the end of the bed. He seems frozen, breathing shallowly, and a sense of panic overcomes Jemma. Maybe she acted too quickly? Maybe she reignited his fears, his worries?
But then Fitz chuckles quietly and his shoulders relax and he crawls up the bed and over her until he can capture her lips with his. Jemma lies down—relieved that her mind had overreacted—and pulls him closer. She feels his excitement against her thigh and it sends a wave of heat between her legs.
Fitz breaks the kiss for air. Slightly out of breath, his eyes still fixed on hers, he whispers, “I love you.”
A sound between a laugh and a sob escapes Jemma’s lips, as she struggles to hold back tears. She pulls him back to her, kissing him passionately.
She has to catch her breath when his hand slides down to cup her breast, massaging it tenderly. She moans into his mouth when his thumb gently caresses her nipple. She wants to feel more of him, feel him closer.
Her hands move to his behind, squeezing his cheeks, causing him to press against her center and groan. She reaches for the hem of his boxers, trying to pull them down, but her arms don’t seem to reach quite far enough. Fitz breaks their kiss, trying to help her pull down his underpants, while Jemma attempts to use her feet to strip it down. Both start laughing as they struggle to rid him from the unwanted piece of clothing.
When they finally succeed, Fitz once again captures her lips with his, his tongue sliding against her lips, pleading for permission to dance with hers. Hungrily, Jemma deepens their connection. His hard cock is pressed against her center, teasing her through the thin fabric of her underpants. Fitz kneels between her legs, kissing his way down to her panties, his hands following the wet trail he creates. His lips gently and only briefly brush against the silk, right where her clit is, and she hitches her breath at the sensation. He straightens up and pulls down her panties, briefly crawling over her leg so he’s not in his own way.
But once she lies naked in front of him, he doesn’t crawl back onto her. Instead he lies down besides her, gently reaching around her shoulder, encouraging her to roll onto her side and face him. When she does, he lets his hand glide down her shoulder, to her waist and hip, pulling himself closer until Jemma feels his skin hot against hers. He pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “This—right here—is more perfect than anything I could have ever imagined or wished for,” he whispers quietly.
Jemma smiles and rolls Fitz onto his back, straddling his hips. His erection rests throbbing and hot against her, but she stops herself from rocking against him. Instead she leans down, cupping his face and kissing him tenderly, feeling his fingers brush against her hips. She breaks the kiss and looks into his eyes. “You’re my home, Fitz. You’re my trust. My constant.” She pauses and exhales. “I love you,” she adds, barely above a whisper. His eyes light up at her words, and yet she notices the shimmer of tears he’s trying to hold back. She leans back down, her hands still framing his face. Slowly she presses her lips against his temple, his eyes, his cheeks, until she captures his lips, kissing him tenderly, softly, pouring her love, her soul into this kiss.
She notices that their breathing is completely in sync when she breaks the kiss, slow, steady, calm, at peace. A smile appears on Fitz’s face and Jemma can’t help but smile herself as she loses herself in his eyes, as the world around them disappears.
Carefully, Jemma reaches between her legs and guides him inside of her. The sensation takes her breath away. She feels drunk on his love, her love, their love. She rests her hands on his stomach and slowly rolls her hips forward, feeling his muscles tensing at her touch, feeling him deeper inside of her. She closes her eyes and lets the feeling surge through her body like a wave of ecstasy. She feels Fitz’s hand on her shoulder and opens her eyes when he suddenly moves, pulling himself up to sitting. A moan escapes her lips as he enters her more deeply.
Fitz cups her face and gazes into her eyes before kissing her, slowly turning her upper body until gravity pulls her back onto the mattress. He hovers over her, pushed up on his hands, breathing heavily. The maneuver broke their intimate connection. Fitz slowly lowers himself and Jemma wraps her legs around him, pulling him closer, carefully guiding his hips until he is perfectly centered over her opening. He glides back inside of her with ease, never taking his eyes off hers.
Jemma’s hands reach for his neck and she pulls him closer, longing to feel his lips on hers again. He rocks forward and a quiet moan forms at the back of her throat. They fall into a steady rhythm, give-and-take.
Finally they both forget to worry, forget to think, just allowing their passion, their lust, their longing and their love to take over as their moans grow louder. They cry out each other’s names like promises of a forever spent as one as the event horizon draws closer.