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Participant Discretion Advised

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Melinda sighs, breath still slightly shaky from the fight as she joins Phil in squarely facing the elevator door.

"You enjoyed that far too much," she murmurs, and he glances down at her, all too close to her after an adrenaline rush like that, his warm breath beating down on the side of her neck.

"Really?" he reaches forward to press the button for the lobby - except, he presses the button for a penthouse.

Ohh, he was really going to be in trouble when they got up there.

"Because I thought my enjoyment was entirely warranted."

"She's not actually me, you know," Melinda gripes, then chastises herself for letting that be her major criticism.

"Oh, I know. Well, I think I do. But for...the sake of national security, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't make absolutely certain, would I?"

Melinda laughs. She knows both of them too well to fully pretend she wasn't sold on the idea. A penthouse, rather than whatever room or closet or shower was empty? He'd been right to sign her up without having to ask.

But she's still gonna make him work for it.

"National security? That's your excuse this time?"

"Better than getting your hair caught in your locker, Agent May."

"I did get my hair caught in my locker. Actually, no, let me rephrase that: you got my hair caught in my locker."

"Fair point, but hey, we've got an Avenger who knows what I mean when I say discretion. What kind of man would I be if I didn't use that to my advantage?"

"Is that supposed to be rhetorical?"

Phil furrows his brow, but seems to able to tell she's teasing.

"Yeah, Melinda. That's the point of the - never mind."

Melinda smirks. The elevator door is shiny enough for him to see it without looking at her again, and he gasps gently as though he's only just caught on to her.

"Oh, excuse you! Dirty mouth without saying any dirty words, wow. What did I sign up for?" he turns to her teasingly, arm almost unconsciously slipping around her back even as she turns. At this point, they know where this is going, and they know better than to waste energy attempting to pause or slow the process.

"Dirty things with a dirty girl, you should be willing to get your hands dirty," she moans, practically at a whisper.

Facing him this close, she knows he can tell when she moves her hands down and then back up her thighs, disturbing the positioning of her slip, and his mouth isn't more than an inch above hers, so her breath, her anticipation, and her cheeky smile come out directed right where he'll answer her first.

It doesn't take long for him to do so - only a single suspiciously empty floor - and his smile creases into a smirk, staying static for the sole purpose of forcing her to yearn even more, until he does what she's expecting of him and clamps their lips together with a fierce, wet kiss and a gentle bite. She moves his hands into place on her hips, and they don't waste a second before meandering around her ass and thighs.

The elevator dings again, alerting them to their arrival at the topmost floor, which apparently is only one penthouse with the Stark Industries logo emblazoned all over it, until the apartment map on Phil's phone brings them, hand-in-hand, to a door with the SHIELD logo.

"What was that you said about discretion?" Melinda jokes as she accepts his offer to pass through the door first, dragging him in and his shirt off by one of his cuffs. Phil only shrugs before kissing her again.