Warning: This fic contains sexy-times while both characters are under the influence of a mysterious magical item of presumably alien origin. If that bothers you, turn back now.

Author's Note: I know this is not Oliver/Felicity. It's not Michael/Nikita, either. It was just one of those things that needed to be written so it could get out of my head and let me work on other things. That said, I could be persuaded to write a second part to this, but it would most likely be angst.

It starts with an amulet. The item is found in an archaeological dig and is quickly recognized as alien. As always, SHIELD is called in to examine it. This could not be more of a mistake.

(Actually, no. If Jemma is honest with herself, it starts when she leaps out of a plane and he jumps after her. It starts when she realizes she was hanging in the sky with her every limb wrapped around Ward's body. His very well toned body. She remembers hiding her face in his shoulder in an attempt to conceal her blush.)

Jemma touches it before she can stop herself, fingers stretching out to brush the intricate strands of metal that weave together to form the necklace's pendent.

"Don't-" Ward says, grabbing her shoulder, but he's too late. She's touched it, and he's touched her.

(They don't realize how completely, well, screwed they are until much later.)

Jemma has a hard time trying to sleep that night.

The temperature on the bus is usually cool, but Jemma feels way too hot. She's already stripped down to a tank top and boyshorts, yet her skin is still slick with sweat.

And she can't stop thinking about that amulet, locked away in a secure air-tight container in her lab. It's so pretty. So complexly made, and of a material that is definitely not native to this planet. Jemma's never seen anything like it before. She wants to see it again.

If she doesn't touch it, it can't hurt, right?

(Later, she will blame her inability to resist this temptation on the amulet itself. She'll blame a lot of things on the amulet. In reality, it is difficult to ascertain which of these things are actually the amulet's fault.)

Carefully, she pries open the lid of the container they use to subdue potentially hazardous alien material. The necklace gleams in the dim fluorescent light. Jemma takes it in her hands, staring intently for just a second, before she carefully loops it around her neck. The chain is long enough that the pendant hangs right between her breasts, and she touches it with her thumb as it settles into place there. The metal seems darker against her pale skin.

"What are you doing down here?"

Jemma jumps, pressing a hand to her chest, over the necklace. Her heart is racing. "Ward. You-you scared me."

Ward looks first at the empty box, then at the hand foolishly attempting to conceal her transgression. Quickly, she drops her arm to her side.

Without a word, he reaches forward and touches the pendent. The side of his finger brushes against the sensitive skin of her breast. Simmons draws in a sharp breath, but the rise of her chest only makes the situation worse.

She moves her gaze from his fingers to his eyes and that's a mistake too. His pupils are wide, and his expression is very focused. Intensely focused. Intensely focused on her. She wants to look away from the depth of that gaze, but it feels impossible.

The connection feels tangible, and for a moment curiosity kicks in. This is a similar sensation to the one she had when she first touched the amulet. And Ward was touching her when she first touched the amulet, so maybe this electric charge humming in her fingertips begging her to touch him has to do with the necklace.

Curiosity fully piqued, Jemma reaches up to touch Ward's neck. She's right; it's like his skin is magnetic to hers. He flinches when she touches him and then gives her a look of...she's not sure. Relief? Annoyance?

"That-that was for science," she stammers.

"For science?"

"I think I've just about gotten it solved. You and I," she swallows quickly, "we touched the amulet - at the base - electrons and protons, you see - it's all electricity, well, actually, half of it is chemistry, but the other half is electricity and - "

Her conclusion of I should probably take this thing off now is lost against Ward's lips.


She was never a huge fan of the 'kissing a girl to shut her up' bit in the movies, always thought it was rude and more than a little insensitive. Now, she forces herself to acknowledge the perks of the maneuver, because Ward is a very nice kisser. Very nice.

And it's not like Jemma's had a huge amount of experience in that area - well, a bit, she's dabbled, but not much - but she'd definitely give him a nine out of ten. Bonus points for the exceptionally skilled use of his hands should certainly be awarded, because oh, that feels good.

She's pushing herself up on her tiptoes in order to compensate for their height difference, but after one kiss has melded into two it hardly matters, since Ward takes a moment to lift her up and set her bum on the - thankfully empty - table behind her.

The case that previously held the amulet falls to the floor with a clatter and Jemma amends that last thought. Practically empty. It's inconsequential because Ward is still kissing her and his hands are running along the tops of her shoulders, sliding down the straps of her tank top to expose more of her too-hot skin to the cool air of the lab.

The absurdity of the situation hits her full force. Is she seriously making out with Grant Ward right now? Crabby Grant Ward? Who doesn't smile or laugh or be anything other than deadly serious?

Some part of her brain is trying to catalog all the different hormones and pheromones rushing through her system, but the thought process feels muddled. All she's thinking of is Grant's hands on her body and the sensation of his tongue against hers and she feels...very hot

She takes his wrists in her hands and lifts his arms up above his head. Obediently, he holds them there while she grabs the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up and off.

Then his arms are down and around her body, and his mouth is on hers again and she can't think. The material slips through her fingers, and she can't be bothered to care about where it lands.

Quite on their own accord, her legs fall open. Ward steps between them as if he's done this a thousand times - and maybe he has. The position is very similar to when he caught her mid-air, with her legs and arms wrapped around him and the strength and steadiness of him holding her up. Jemma likes it very much. Ward makes her feel safe in a way that few others have. He's not going to hurt her.

And so when his lips move from her mouth to her neck she only protests slightly because while kissing him was very nice, his lips are also evoking a rather pleasant sensation right there. And there. And-oh right there.

She's fairly certain she's said the last bit aloud because he chuckles and moves back to that spot a few seconds later.

Everything is moving very fast and very slow all at once. The dull throb between her legs has grown into a very insistent ache, and when Ward presses his hips against hers once, then twice, she moans in a rather wanton way she hadn't previously thought herself capable of.

His thumbs rub circles into her hips; his lips suck a slow hickey onto her neck. She whimpers and runs her fingers over his abs, curving a path across his ribcage. When he shudders, it takes her a second to realize that it's because of her.

"You are so," he kisses her lips again, "so beautiful."

She hasn't heard those words from anyone other than her dad in quite a while. For some reason Ward thinking she's beautiful is one of the greatest things in the world.

She wants to ask him what they're doing, why now, why this, why does she feel like the world will end if they stop, why her when he's never shown any interest before, why -

His hands are on the waistband of her boy shorts and he's looking right into her eyes. She just knows somehow that he's asking permission, and she can't think of a good reason why not. She wants him. She wants him to bend her over the table or throw her to the floor. She wants this need for something - for him - this weight of want in her chest and between her thighes, gone from her body. (And at the same time she doesn't, so that's properly confusing.)

Instead, Ward goes down on his knees and puts his mouth on her as he drags her undergarments down her legs. When she shudders and stammers expletives that would make her mother blush, he looks rather pleased with himself.

Sometime after that she pushes him to the floor, shucks off his jeans, and lowers herself onto him, bracing her hands on his shoulders. He says her name reverently, and it's the most beautiful sound, twisted and pulled from his lips as he appears to fight for some modicum of control.

She keeps her eyes on his; her focus is on him more than any of the movements her body is making. She finds her release a second before he does, and once that burden of want is lifted, she slowly collapses onto his chest. He wraps his arms around her and keeps her close to him. She can hear his heartbeat slow, and she recognizes that the pounding in her head and in her chest is slowly fading, but in it's place, sleep quickly takes hold of her senses.

Pressed between their chests, unnoticed, the amulet glows a bright, steady blue.

Jemma wakes up in the morning and her head hurts. A quick examination of her surroundings confirms two things: she's in the lab and she's wearing Ward's shirt.

The sound of someone clearing their throat makes Jemma look up. Melinda May stands in the doorway, arms crossed. Behind Jemma, a shirtless Grant Ward groans and sits up. He pales when he sees May. Jemma covers her burning face in her hands. She remembers far more of the night before than she wishes she did. The amulet seems to burn against her chest.

She can see no possible way for this to end well.