So this is my first attempt at writing smutty anything. My face was actually burning while I worked on it. But I had this idea rattling around in my head forever, and it was demanding to be written so…please be kind? Established Waige. Thanks for reading!

Side note: I did not know how much I hated the word "panties" until I started trying to type it. I just can't.

"Walter, we're going to be late."

Her voice didn't sound as stern as she'd intended as his lips traveled in a path down her neck. She was one step from the door when Walter wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her back to him, as he often did in the mornings before they started work—he wasn't comfortable with PDA once they were in front of the team, so she didn't argue if he wanted a few more minutes of privacy with her. Today, though, the genius seemed to have a little more in mind as his rough palms skimmed her sides and landed on her hips.

Paige felt him smile against her skin. "Late implies that we have a set appointment. We're not meeting with any clients today, so as the leader of this team, I determine the commencement of our workday."

"I guess I can't argue with that logic," she joked, almost instinctively smoothing her fingers over his shoulders and pushing them up into his hair. Paige knew she was only encouraging him, but her legs were a little shaky and she needed something to grip. She made a mental note to change her shirt before she left the loft so she could hide the mark Walter was now insistently creating on her bare shoulder. "But that doesn't change the fact that—."

The liaison's voice was drowned out as Walter captured her lips, his left arm steadying her as she stumbled in surprise from the intensity of it. The force with which he kissed her was no longer unexpected—it wasn't something he ever did hurriedly or out of duty. When they were focused on a case, or he was engrossed in a project, he kept his hands entirely to himself. The trade-off to that, though, was his full and unwavering attention any time they did connect physically.

It was a compromise Paige learned was more than acceptable.

What caught her off guard was the timing, more than anything—they hadn't even had their coffee yet, and he was kissing her like he wanted to take her back to bed. She thought they'd both been plenty satisfied the night before, but clearly Walter wasn't done with her yet.

The genius took a step forward, pressing his body soundly against hers, and she sighed quietly as his tongue traced her bottom lip before slipping into her mouth. Her fingers curled in his dark hair, part of her wishing he hadn't just cut it but knowing it was probably better because she had a habit of tugging on his curls a little too roughly when he grew them out. One of Walter's hands tangled in her own hair—she guessed she'd have to fix that, too, but it was difficult to be concerned about it—while the other tightened on her waist, sweeping her off her feet in an oddly literal sense. Paige realized why a second later as he carried her backward, never breaking the kiss, until she felt the stability of the brick wall behind her. It should have been uncomfortable, but she was grateful for the support and the contrast of the cold brick and Walter's warmth was intoxicating.

Paige was so distracted by his tongue stroking hers that she hardly noticed his palm dropping from her hair or his hand releasing her waist and settling on her hip again. His lips kept her trapped to the wall while he separated the rest of their bodies, giving him space to lazily drift his right hand down to her leg. Walter's fingers danced over the smooth skin, lightly enough to tickle, and he pulled back, grinning as she squirmed against him.

"You know what these skirts do to me," he said in a dark voice, tinged with desire that made Paige almost collapse where she stood. The genius played with the hem of the gray fabric, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger before inching it further up her legs. "What they've always done to me," he whispered close to her ear, his teasing tone faltering for a second, and she trembled slightly at the memory of how desperate they'd once been, burning for a touch neither would allow themselves to experience.

Now that she'd had it, though, Paige was certain she never wanted to live without it.

Walter didn't consider himself an expert in deciphering physical and verbal cues, but he'd taken a particular interest in hers and it seemed like only weeks until he had cataloged even her tiniest responses and learned her favorite ways to be touched. She gave him some instruction in the beginning, but it wasn't long before he had a handle on it and she was incapable of much coherent speech by that point, anyway.

He tilted his head to place light, playful kisses on her cheek and along her throat, and Paige knew he was back to teasing her. His fingers grazed a line between the top of her thigh and the edge of her underwear, forcing Paige to bit her lip to stifle a moan. Walter's goal was painfully clear now and the liaison knew if she was so wound up that these small touches were making her flush from head to toe, the main event was going to make her absolutely lose her mind and… "Half the team is already downstairs." She gasped as he trailed lightly over a sensitive spot and she gripped his arms, bunching the blue fabric of his shirt between her fingers. "T-they might come looking for us. Or hear us."

Paige was dumbfounded when Walter—the man who was nothing if not reserved around his team, who sought practicality and logic in all situations—laughed low and deep, sending vibrations that echoed through every inch of her, and mumbled, "I guess you'll have to come quietly then."

Damn it. She was done for. His confidence had grown exponentially along with his technique, and when he was bent on torturing her like this, she never held out for long. She said a little prayer that her son was staying with a friend and Toby had stopped listening in over the intercom after the first time he accidentally overheard an intimate encounter between them.

Paige whimpered as Walter's fingers traced patterns on her inner thigh, and sensing her growing frustration, he decided to move things along and dropped lower, stroking her through her underwear. She was almost embarrassed by how easily his fingers glided over the black cotton—she was more than ready for him, as usual. That never seemed to be a problem, especially given the genius's propensity for working her into a frenzy before he gave her what she wanted. He wasn't like any man she'd ever met in her life and Paige was eminently grateful for that fact.

He was barely applying any pressure at all and she tried to press down into his hand, but he kept lowering his fingers just out of her reach, stretching her to the outer limits of her patience. Wasn't he the one who'd instigated this in the first place? "I hate you," Paige grumbled, but the effect of her words was diminished when his thumb brushed against her clit and her breath caught on the last word.

"Mmhmm," he murmured, amused. She would swear that he enjoyed this part the most, testing her, building up the tension inside her and then dangling her over the edge, watching her writhe in frustration. A stronger woman might be able to push him away, put an end to the game, but Paige wasn't budging until Walter finished what he started, and he knew that. She was already past the point of no return and he would deliver, but not until he made her sweat.

And damn, was she sweating. Even the floaty sleeveless top she wore seemed to suffocate her as heat radiated through her body. At this point she'd be lucky not to need a second shower before she could present herself to the rest of Scorpion.

He glanced up at her, his expression temporarily concerned. Paige wasn't startled—she was used to this look. No matter what they were doing, he'd take this second to make sure she was okay. It softened her annoyance with him and her lips curved as she nodded.

Walter withdrew his fingers and fluttered them gently over her stomach, feeling her muscles tense before slipping his hand under the waistband of her lingerie. Paige dropped her head back, sinking into the rigid wall, her eyes slipping shut as he finally met her aching flesh. He drew the calloused pads along her entrance, varying the strength of his touch, and she sighed, balling up his shirt in her fists again. She wouldn't be the only one that needed to change, she thought with a smirk.

She enjoyed slow, but he'd already dragged this out long enough and Paige thought she might actually break something if they were interrupted before she finished. Walter seemed to have the same thought and pushed his middle and index fingers inside her, pulling them back slowly and then repeating the motion. Her walls tightened around him and she could sense his self-satisfaction even with her eyes closed.

His pace quickened on the fifth or sixth thrust, and Paige drew in a sharp breath as her knees buckled and she sank into him. The motion only brought him deeper and she clasped one hand over her mouth to muffle a groan. The absolute last thing she needed was knowing looks at work from the other geniuses.

The liaison's muscles were contracting as he alternated between stroking and rubbing her and she was surprised by how close she was to the edge, though she supposed the genius had already taken her eighty percent of the way there before they'd even gotten to this point. Paige was barely successful in suppressing another noise—a higher-pitched whine this time—and Walter got the hint, circling her clit with the tip of his thumb before massaging the pulsing nerves. He flicked at her softly and that was all it took for her to crash, shaking as her orgasm rushed through her. Walter's lips were on hers abruptly, swallowing her cries, keeping her pleasure between them. She could just feel his fingers ghosting over her as he helped her down, his lips drifting across her cheek tenderly while she fought to catch her breath.

Walter gripped her hips, flexing into her skin, keeping her upright as he stepped back. Paige was so dazed that it was a few beats before she even thought to try standing on her own, and although she wanted to roll her eyes at his smug smile, she couldn't deny that he'd earned it.

"I can't go downstairs like this," was the first thing she muttered when the power of speech returned to her. The genius chuckled, and she lifted her head, pointing to his rumpled shirt. "You can't go downstairs like that."

Glancing around the loft, Walter's eyes settled on his phone and he grabbed it from the desk, typing out a quick message before shoving the device in his pocket. "There. Cabe will make sure the others don't interrupt us. We can take a few minutes to, uh…" he grinned. "Regroup."

The color drained from Paige's face. "You didn't…tell him what we were doing, did you?"

Walter pressed his lips together, seemingly entertained by her panic. "I explained that we were in the middle of an important conversation."

The liaison exhaled shakily, rubbing her hands over her face. Walter's honesty was an asset, but she'd endeavored to explain that this was one aspect of their lives that could rightfully be kept private. He didn't quite understand the need for misdirection—they're going to know we're lying anyway, Paige—but he accepted that it was a social custom she wanted him to follow, so he did.

"How long did you tell him we would be?"

Walter shrugged. "I said it might be a while. I didn't want to rush you."

The matter-of-factness in his voice revealed that he had no ulterior motive. He was perfectly happy to make her see stars and then let her go to work, expecting nothing in return. That insight made her heart race and every inch of her skin burn while he stood there with his arms crossed, totally unaware of the plans she suddenly had for him.

Paige grabbed the bottom of her shirt and yanked it over her head, smiling daringly at Walter as his eyebrows ticked up. "Well, if we have to take them off anyway…"