Agents of Shield: the Mentorship

A/N: This fic is made possible by contributions from readers like you.

Skye still thought SHIELD was the jackbooted fist of a despotic international hegemony, but they gave great hours. After two nonstop, touch and go months in Kiev trying to keep anyone from exploding things that were better off not exploding, they were finally being given a couple weeks of R&R. The moment the Bus was parked, the men were off along with Jemma, duffel bags packed and headed for parts unknown.

Skye stayed behind while May powered down the aircraft and gave it a walk-around. Skye knew May would check it again before she powered it back up, and woe betide any changes that had been made without being cleared by her first. Skye didn't approach her then. She waited onboard, going over her speech again and again, and almost missed May finally leaving. She ran down the stairs, narrowly missing the maintenance crews coming onboard, and wore her heels toward nubs on the tarmac, running after May.

"Hey! Hey, May, wait up!" she called, and May turned, looking perfectly cool even wearing black leather in Colorado, mid-summer. It was the aviator sunglasses, had to be. "So hey, what're you doing this weekend?"

"It's classified."

Skye laughed. "Good one!"

"Not a joke."

Skye coughed. "'Course. But hey, after that, how about a girls' night out—"

"What do you want?" May asked, the intonation of a robot in a fifties B-movie.

"Well, it's like this. I was going through a list of all the foster homes I was placed in, and it turns out that in one of them, in Florida of course, there was some weird stuff reported at the same time. I got shipped out, like, twice as fast as usual—"

"Imagine that," May muttered.

"So I'm thinking, what if it was one of the original agents? What if one of them came to check up on me when they heard and personally got me out of there? This could be her, May, this could be my mother, or at least a clue, you never know."

"And therefore you want me to take you all the way to Florida, and during my time off, get into the usual half-baked shenanigans with you."

"I don't plan on there being shenanigans," Skye said, eyes wide. "Plus, it'll be a great chance for us to spend some time together! We never spend any time together—van girl and plane woman."

May crossed her arms as she slithered closer, regarding Skye like some not particularly interesting new species of bug. "No."

"No?" Skye cried. "Why not?"

"Are you asking or just whining?"

"I want to know!" Skye protested. "Coulson would do it."

"I'm not Coulson. I don't give a shit about your hackneyed backstory, your inane hijinks, or your puppy dog eyes. The fact is, it offends me that all

you

care about is how to resolve your mommy issues, rather than this organization's mandate."

"Hey, I care about SHIELD. I want to be the best SHIELD agent I can be! You guys are like a family to me."

"And you're a parasite." May craned her head, her lips sinking into Skye's vision. "You clown around, pretending to be useful with your 'social media skills', but all you really do is wonder about your past, as if it could make up for what a waste you've turned out to be now. You have no place in SHIELD, no interest or understanding in our agency, and if I were Coulson, I would've kicked you off my plane a long time ago."

"Don't say that!" Skye cried, vitally ashamed as she felt tears rushing to her eyes like blood from a wound. "How can you say that?"

"You're incompetent and unmotivated. You've had enough chances to prove your worth, and I'm still left waiting to be impressed. Right now, the best thing you could do for this team is tender a resignation so we can give your room to someone who pulls their weight."

"I just—

I'm sorry, alright?

" The tears flowed free, like a levee had broken. As Skye became aware of their heat spreading across her face, she turned and ran.

May watched her go. In a moment, she followed after.

***

May didn't mean to be so rude. She liked the kid, to a point. It was just that Skye made her downright irritable. She seemed like she was a flavor of fucked up that May wasn't familiar with, and that put her on edge. Always trying to make Coulson happy, and it came so easy. All she had to do was breathe and daddy Phil was proud. And then trying to make May happy, but never succeeding.

It ignored May, how ingratiating Skye could be. She should've been satisfied with Coulson's praise. He was team leader, after all. It was his job to gladhand the troops, not May's.

And May wasn't immune to Skye's charms. Half the time Skye was just this little puppy, running around with her tongue out for attention, yapping about anything and everything, and May found her enthusiasm as entertaining as the next agent. But she could also be an entitled little brat, getting on May's nerves with her constant disregard for rules and regulations, thinking she was the first person in SHIELD's seventy-year history to have a brain. And the clothes she wore...

The tight T-shirts, the belly-baring tops, the painted on jeans. So the Bus was her home and they were all one big happy family. She should still be aware of how she affected group morale, walking around in jean cut-offs that let her legs go up forever. May was still surprised one of the boys hadn't fucked her yet.

Still, it wasn't Skye's fault that Coulson was spoiling her rotten. Five minutes at the Academy would've been enough to break her in, but because of her free ride, she was left thinking that field agents were supposed to be uppity bitches like her. May felt for her. Someday, she'd be part of a real team, not Coulson's barbershop quarter, and she'd have to face front like all the rest. But that rude awakening could be put off.

May went after her, wondering how she could apologize when she'd meant every word she'd said.

***

In the first empty room she could find, Skye struggled to get her breathing under control, stop the tears from flowing.

She was a strong, independent woman, a hacktivist, a SHIELD trainee. So why did she get so turned on when Melinda May talked down to her? She wasn't a masochist or anything. When other people insulted or dismissed her or called her names, she got mad, she stood up for herself. But with May, she had faulty wiring. Every disapproving glare made Skye want to prove herself to May, please her, and that was just her mind. Her body truly went off the rails.

All told, she must've spent several cumulative hours in the Bus's bathroom, splashing cold water on her face just to stay in control. Even then, she went through more than a few pairs of panties. And at night, lying alone in bed, she thought of May with her controlled rage and her dismissive attitude, and her body short-circuited. As much as she tried to resist, nine times out of ten she ended up relieving herself.

The next morning, May always seemed to know, looking at Skye like she'd become even more offensive. And even if Skye was just projecting, that simply humiliated her more, made her want to run back to her bed and hump the mattress until she came.

May was just so perfect, an ice sculpture, and her voice only gained any sharpness when she was talking down to Skye. Maybe it was that only Skye got that reaction—that

attention

—from the pilot.

God, she was such a freak. A pervert. A slut. If May knew, she'd hate her even more. She'd jam her finger into Skye's chest, right over her heart, and tell her she was an embarrassment to SHIELD, a complete fucking loser. Hot tears burned their way down Skye's face like lava from a volcano. Her hands mirrored them, running down her body over swollen nipples and tensing stomach, down under her skirt. If only it were May touching her.

***

It was easy to follow Skye. She'd stepped in a puddle and her footprints dappled the floor, pointing like an arrow to the hangar's supply closet. May went inside, shutting the door behind her. Skye was in the corner, nearly fetal, her back turned to May and heaving with sobs.

Wonderful, Melinda, you've made her cry.

May stepped closer, trying to announce herself with her echoing footprints, but Skye was lost in her own world of grief. She didn't notice May until the older woman put her hand on her shoulder. Then her head whipped around, looking up at Skye with a face so red and so heated it could've been on fire.

Christ, how bad did I traumatize her?

"I'm..." Skye stammered. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I wasn't—"

May didn't know what to say. She wasn't Coulson. She didn't care about touchy-feely bullshit. So she just coiled her hands on Skye's shoulders and rubbed insistently, soothingly. A fresh batch of tears dripped off Skye's face, but she relaxed into May's touch, finally dipping her head against May's hip.

***

Skye was completely confused. May had caught her masturbating, and the shame of that burnt in her core, but May wasn't yelling at her—under these circumstances, that probably would've made her gush in her panties. Instead, May was touching her, and it felt so good, but it was so wrong, so embarrassing. The longer it went on, the more and more ashamed Skye felt, the more she wanted to drop into the Earth and die while at the same time never wanting this humiliating interlude to stop.

May crouched down on her haunches, gently running her fingers through Skye's hair, caressing her face with cooling fingers, and Skye actually felt unashamed for once. She felt good. And she felt so thankful all of a sudden, that May understood, accepted her, that she couldn't hold it in. Turning, she wrapped her arms around May's neck and jammed their lips together.

***

May didn't react to the kiss. She filed that away for later. What did concern her was the sharp smell on the hand Skye was currently cupping her cheek with. Once Skye had finished her expression of... whatever, May caught her hand and sniffed. As Skye's expression changed to one of dawning horror, May reached under her skirt and cupped her crotch. Wet.

"Enjoying yourself?" May asked.

Her lip actually wobbling, Skye backed away, tripped on her own heels, and landed on that firm ass she was so proud of. The impact jolted her skirt up her thighs, exposing the white cotton panties that May had just handled.

May had a lifetime of experience to draw on, more than one in fact, having done more missions in her forty-odd years than a score of other agents. If Skye were a contact, an enemy agent she was trying to turn, a source to be squeezed for information, she would've known exactly what to do. Her instincts were screaming at her that Skye was vulnerable, that now was the time to press her advantage. Indulge that fantasy she'd been entertaining in quiet moments. And May saw no reason not to.

In the same time it took for May to decide on her plan of attack, Skye realized her skirt was practically up to her waist. She reached to pull it down.

"Don't!" May ordered, her voice as stern as Skye had ever heard it. The older woman straightened, arms crossed, long legs taking small steps toward the fallen girl. "Stay down."

Skye looked up at her, seeing her own tear-strewn face in the reflection of May's aviator sunglasses.

Stop crying, stop crying,

she ordered herself, but it was no use. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, please don't tell anyone, it won't happen again, promise."

"Oh, I think it will." Her boots falling between Skye's open legs, May stopped her advance. She crouched down. The crying reflection loomed larger on her sunglasses. "I think it'll happen whenever I say it happens, from now on."

"What?" Skye asked, her confusion growing. Her mind jumped to the obvious conclusion and her cheeks burned at her own mental insinuation. God, she really was a freak, thinking May would want to have anything to do with.

"I don't explain myself to you. If you want to know, figure it out." With no further words, May reached under Skye's skirt and drew out her panties. Skye whimpered in embarrassment as they came down to her thighs. She actually squealed when May ripped them off. The pilot neatly filed them away in one of her jacket pockets. "These are mine now."

"Okay," Skye agreed, nodding desperately. Anything to have this over with. She wondered why the worst embarrassments were the ones she didn't want to end.

"Don't tense up," May ordered. Her hand was back between Skye's legs. "I want you relaxed and breathing normally. This won't hurt if you do that." Skye gasped as she felt a finger, two, inside her.

May...

"I don't want to hurt you, Skye, but I will if that proves necessary."

Skye could only nod, her breathing high-pitched with shock, pleasure, and more than a little pain. May descended on her, clamping the forearm of her free hand across Skye's throat to hold her in place as her other hand went to work between Skye's thighs. Her legs topped Skye's, holding them in place. Skye was pinned down by the other woman, and there was no place she would've rather been.

She had to actually work to keep from being moved by the savage thrusting of May's arm against her body, her breasts shaking violently under her shirt, her voice reduced to a series of gasping cries that she fought to contain. It was useless. Just as useless as resisting the orgasm that arrived just a few short seconds after May penetrated her.

She mewled like a wounded animal and May did not slow down. She went harder and faster.

Skye remembered, of all things, her last sexual encounter with Miles. It'd been good, she wouldn't have been dating him if it hadn't, but when May had caught her afterward, seen her next to naked and known what she'd been doing, the attention she'd gotten from her—the feeling of being the focus of all that tightly controlled power—it had aroused her more than all her time with Miles put together.

And now, that focus was on pleasuring her. No, on

fucking

her, dominating her. Skye was practically May's prison bitch and she couldn't hate a single second of it. She thought this had to be the best sex she would ever have.

She was wrong. May added another finger, and after another half-dozen thrusts, Skye was screaming out another orgasm. It echoed through the small room, surely through the thin walls, and Skye wondered if anyone could hear it. If they would come to see her, getting railed by May. Her bitch.

Skye came again.

And she couldn't believe it, but barely a minute later, she was coming again. Then once more. Soon, she lost track of her orgasmic pleasure, of time passing. All she was aware of was that she was the focus of May's attention, that May was entirely focused on her, on humiliating her by making her come like a whore with next to no effort, and Skye didn't mind at all.

She loved being in May's power, having someone taking all control from her only to be entirely devoted to her pleasure. She didn't care if the hanger's entire maintenance crew came to watch her get fucked. Her only fear was that May would stop.

She needn't have worried. May had two more fingers to add. Not to mention a thumb.

Skye made it to four fingers before May took pity on her, deciding to rub her clit instead of fisting her. Skye had moaned herself hoarse in her time with May, but she found her voice once more, and her scream filled May's ears like an opera aria until she finally lost consciousness.

May only made her come once more after that. Skye was so cute when she was sleeping and getting fucked.

***

Skye woke up slowly. The first thing she was aware of was the satisfied smile on her face, so big it hurt her cheeks. A pleasantly intense ache covered her body like a suntan in summer, and when she moved the muscles of her thighs it sent pain out into her body. She didn't know how long she'd been unconscious, but she was still exhausted. Heavy-eyed, but with a flush of being sated. It took her a while to realize the sex wasn't over.

She was sitting in the passenger seat of a car, May at the wheel. One of the senior agent's black-gloved hands was on the wheel. The other was between Skye's legs. That, more than anything else, had woken her.

"Up and at 'em," May said, her voice as bright as it ever got. "We're almost here."

"Almost... almost..." Skye squeezed her thighs shut on May's hand as she came for what felt like the hundredth time, her well-used body registering pain with the pleasure—it actually hurt to feel this good. Though tears gathered in her eyes, she didn't let them fall. She wouldn't disappoint May by appearing ungracious.

"Good girl," May said simply as she wiped her hand on Skye's skirt. Once it was dry, she returned it to the wheel to guide them smoothly into a parking space.

For the first time, Skye looked around. Everywhere there was blue sky and the orange terrain of the desert. They were in a suburban neighborhood, but there were no signs of life. In the distance, she could see several houses under construction, or lots that were simply vacant.

"A new subdivision?" she asked.

May nodded. "Very good." She got out of the car, and some instinct kept Skye in her seat as May circled around, opened her door for her, and simply scooped Skye up in her arms like a husband about to carry his bride over the threshold.

Skye gently acquiesced to May's hold on her. It seemed unbelievable that she had gone from the mortification of earlier to this absolute comfort and security, draped across May's arms like a little kid, totally at ease. She wrapped her arms securely around May's neck as the woman effortlessly carried her to the front door of the house they'd parked at. May was actually able to temporarily hold Skye one-handed while she closed the car door and when she unlocked the house. Skye sighed in admiration of her lover—if that was what May was now.

May did not let Skye down once they were inside, instead carrying her up the stairs. Skye didn't mind. She enjoyed looking around at what had to be a little piece of May, even if it were only a bolt-hole or safe house. It was as spartan as she would've expected, but there were little mementos strewn around—meaningless to Skye, but obviously something to May. She wondered if the Captain America action figure on one of the shelves had been a gift from Coulson.

Again holding Skye in one arm, May let them into the room at the top of the stairs. It was a cozy room of minimalist furniture, dominated by a great round bed. Only one other door, which was open, allowing Skye to see it led to a small bathroom. That was all Skye could make out before she was deposited on the bed. Again, she knew to hold herself still as May undressed her, working her out of her boots and clothes until she was bare naked. And then, May simply pulled out the sheets and drew them up to Skye's chin, tucking her in most comfortably.

A throb in Skye's groin had her asking "Aren't we going to... you know?"

May shook her head, and actually gave Skye a fond smile that had the hacker feel like she was walking on clouds. "You've had enough. In the morning, maybe. For now, I want you to sleep and get your strength up."

"May, is this your home?"

May bent to kiss Skye on the temple—the first time her lips had touched Skye's body. "No more questions. You're in for a long day tomorrow. You'll need your strength."

"Okay..." Skye said sleepily, then segued into a yawn. She really was tired. But as she snuggled into her pillow, something bothered her. Something wasn't quite right.

She realized what it was upon waking. It was the manacles ringing the bed. The ones now around her wrists.

***

"May! May!" Skye called, thrashing around. After a few minutes of trying her bonds, she'd concluded they were inescapable. Her only hope was to get May to unlock her. She worked her body as hard as she could, making the mattress groan and creak until May strutted into the room, holding a breakfast smoothie in either hand.