When she's more interested in the laptop than in him, laying on her belly on the bed, he knows what to do. Once upon a time he would have tried charming her off it, but he quickly realised even the promise of great sex isn't as good as the new game she's found or the program she's coding. So instead Morgan simply hooks his thumbs into her pyjama shorts, pausing to make sure she's willing (the little wiggle of her hips gives it away), and then drags them off down Garcia's legs. He takes off his underwear without taking his eyes off the curve of her rear, and climbs back onto the bed with her.
She's concentrating on her game, bobbing her head to the radio, but he knows she's complicit when she pushes up into the brush of his fingers against the back of her thigh. He knows even teasing won't get her away, and really he admires her ability to multitask, most of the time.
Morgan wastes no time, pushing her thighs apart and seeks her warmth his fingers; she's wet as he manipulates her fresh, and he knows she's been getting aroused the entire time they've been on the bed because she was well aware of Morgan's own randiness.
He eases two fingers inside her and she sighs. The tapping on the keyboard has slowed, and then it comes in short bursts in time with the way he moves, her hips rocking back against the simulation.
Soon he notices the game has gone to a pause screen but doesn't say anything, even though it's a victory. Instead he grabs a foot and nips playfully at one of her toes. She groans and reaches back, planting a blue polish-tipped hand sharply against her backside, causing a rewarding crack sounding.
"Climb on up," she says, grinning over her shoulder, "give me some brown sugar."
He laughs low in his throat and does as requested, slipping his fingers out of her and shifting between her knees, which have lifted and tilted her body just a little. He angles himself to her familiar shape and pushes forward into soft wet heat.
Laptop almost forgotten, just a hand gripping it to stop it toppling off the bed, she purrs with desire as he pushes her top up and lays his chest across her exposed back, bringing his lips close to her shoulder and he pushes her hair away her neck, allowing him to press kisses along her skin as his hips begin to move.
She braces on her arms, content to let his body drive the movement, just surrendering to the increasing tight coil in her gut and the friction of his motion.
They don't marathon very often, having adapted to short quick fulfilling bursts between an all-consuming job, but this time it's longer, more paced, both working slowly towards the end. It's inevitable though, and when she spares a hand to push under her body and seek out her clit to help her toward her climax he knows it's close.
"Baby girl…" he murmurs, kissing her neck and the top of her spine as his movements become more erratic. They're equal, but he still defaults to making sure she finishes first, something she's noticed. This time she lets it go, practically mewling as her hips jerk, fingers moving so furiously Morgan can feel the vibration, and then suddenly she's moaning and squeezing and pulsing and bucking below him.
It doesn't take him much, caught right at the epicentre of her orgasm and it helps to drive him into his, groaning and nipping at her shoulder and then soothing the pinch with his mouth as he cums inside her, hips grinding her into the mattress.
His forearms ache a little but he stays where he is, conscious not to put his weight completely on her. Their lips meet finally and they kiss lazily, basking in the chemical rush of their orgasm.
His lingering erection is still inside her when she starts playing on the laptop again, and he laughs against the damp skin of her back.