encompass | ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏsᴛ 2019-2020 ( ɢᴇɴ + sᴍᴜᴛ )

[ she ignores him. she does it with purpose and she does it with diligence and she props his head to one side as she draws the edged blade down a wide swath of his cheek, adjusting for his jaw. she turns the blade, twists her wrist, and takes the next direction upward—along his neck.

and afterwards, yet again, she cleans the razor on his trousers. ]

Better on your slacks than my stockings.

[ she at long last murmurs, eyes focused on his face but not his eyes. ]

I see your point.

[ better on his slacks, indeed. His palms open and close, trying not to reach for her again as it hasn't worked last time. He'll try again, when the time is right. For now, he'll close his eyes and enjoy her presence. ]

I'll change later.

—Good.

[ it's the nearest she's come to saying something nice ever since he walked out and found her sitting on his bed. of course, such niceness is accompanied by a rather reckless escalation. to best service the centre of his chin, the bit of skin above his lip, she nudges his knees apart and slips smoothly between them. all without lifting her palm off his chest, where she's been holding steady feeling his heart pound.

peggy leans in—looking a little too smug with herself as she draws the blade up his adam's apple. ]

[ if he weren't keen on waiting until she's done, steve would have used this chance. She's finally, almost, in his arms. Peggy moves close, ever closer and he opens his eyes and looks at her. Up close, the deep red lipstick is even more tempting, he can see the very lines of her lips beneath. ]

Are you sure it's necessary I keep my hands at my sides?

Yes. Positive as pie.

[ she chirps, her attention only briefly flickering to catch his gaze before she sets back to work. now, it's a matter of self-control. as much as she would love to invite his hands onto her hips, her side, her thighs...peggy exhales, a moment, at the very thought of what she's denying him.

what she's denying herself. ]

Can't have you getting too...distracted. [ she hums, almost chewing down on a word so near the subtext of what's happening between them today. ] Like you said. You're here to learn.

I'm learning.

[ he's learning how she fits, almost in his lap, he's learning the shape of her lips and that up close, he can see her dimples, even when she's not smiling. Steve is quiet for a moment, giving her time to work. ]

When you're done, then.

[ and just like that, he commits. ]

[ he commits.

and, just like that, she smiles. with his promise (or something that's as good as a promise) in play, peggy knows she can really start teasing at boundaries. he's been teasing at hers all day. asking questions about her life and asking for her clipboard and making such a fuss over learning how to shave his own unkempt chin.

so, as she proceeds to the last half of his face, peggy goes one step further and—retreating one step before returning—takes a proper seat in steve rogers's lap. she sits high on his thighs, facing him, and leans in to pull the blade up from his throat to his chin. ]

Steady.

[ she reminds him—even though she doesn't have to. ]

[ he adjusts. In his defense, he will say he have to. Peggy moves to his lap and in order to make room for her, he must touch her, at least a bit. One hand remains behind her, tucked against her back, the other is draped over her knees, essentially keeping her where she is.

Where she belongs, he thinks. His touch is steady as she's asked and for now, it's light, too. ]

Almost done?

—Good Lord, Steve, I've only done half your chin.

[ well...a little over half, if she's being honest, and especially now that she's stripped another inch bare and shaved. peggy inches forward—body rocking against his, her skirt hitching that little bit higher to accommodate this new position. ]

Don't tell me you're getting impatient.

[ this fresh new movement allows his to shift his hand, palm splayed over her skirt, thumb touching her stockings. They're soft, he can't help but wonder what her skin feels like beneath. ]

Only a little.

[ he's waited until now. Surely he can wait a little longer. ]

[ bloody hell, but they're really doing this. their words outline a scenario quite different to the one at hand. the shave might as well be an afterthought, no matter how much steadiness she still must pour into her hand just to get the job done.

he's not helping, however, and peggy makes it clear in a breathy complaint: ]

...You've got to move that thumb.

[ and before he (wilfully) misunderstands: ]

Away.

[ he's making her hand tremble. ]

[ aha, there it is. He's been waiting for a sign that she's as affected as he us. Her next order is a sure proof and so it's easy to obey. He drags his thumb up her stocking and over her skirt, it's a small touch that holds many promises. He doesn't ask her why. ]

Like this?

[ there is nothing safe about the way his touch drags up, off her thigh, and onto her skirted hip. so peggy presses her mouth into a hard line and...with a good three strokes of steve's stubble still left on his face, she leans back and drops her razor hand onto her knee. the sharp edge sits loose in the air—waiting. ]

I mean it.

[ she meets his eye. ]

This will all be a bit disappointing if everything gets detoured by a shallow cut.

I'm with you.

[ well, he is. He wouldn't have minded a shallow cut if he hadn'f suspected she would. As it is, his hold of her is light and steady again, no finger out of place. ]

Yes ma'am. Go on.

[ he can be good for her for a little while longer. ]

[ good. it's so hard to rile him up, she thinks, if he doesn't follow some basic rules to make the riling that much more satisfying. she's got to set a boundary or three.

peggy leans back in—likely half-intentional in the way she half-grinds against his body just to reach these last few strokes. and because he's being so good, so obedient, she thought she might as well drop a pearl of intel upon him. ]

I've noticed you looking. All day. [ she tucks thumb under his chin and turns his head to display the opposite cheek. ] And, yes, I am wearing one of the sets you left in my closet last night.

It took me a while to realize. At first, I only knew something was different. Drove me up the wall. I've been trying to figure out what if was during breakfast.

[ if she's going to be honest, then he might as well confess, too. ]

It took me about an hour. You look different. Somethin' that's difficult to explain.

[ but it's easier to try than to focus on the fact she's actually wearing one of the sets. perhaps it's better this way, he did promise her to be careful. ]

[ she likes this joint confession. this laying bare of both their minor indulgences, today, that are bound to lead them both to bigger ones. god. she hasn't even kissed him, yet or recently, and here she is practically rocking herself into his lap. talking about her knickers.

as good as telling him that she won't suffer a mistake, cutting him, because it'll interrupt whatever other mischief they might get up to. ]

What finally gave it away?

[ she asks, greedily driving at the heart of how he'd looked at her an where his eyes had drifted. as she does, she pulls the blade down the second-to-last strip of shaving cream. ]

When you were leaning back in the garden. The er - the outline beneath your shirt was different.

[ he won't easily say the word 'bra' even if he is willing to admit he looked at her breasts. ]

I put two and two together.

I never realized you paid such close attention to my...outlines.

[ she lies. but it's an obvious, clear lie. the kind she tells with a minor smirk on her lips as she finishes up the last bit of actual shaving. there's still a messy smear of cream along his jaw, down his throat, bits that had sloughed off as she worked. and despite her earlier chiding, by straddling him now she's damn well got the excess on her stockings from where her leg has rubbed against his. ]

I'll admit it's quality stuff.

[ the silk, the underwear, the all of it. she reaches for a towel and scrubs him clean. ]

I try not to.

[ now he's the one who's on defense. Only that he's really tried to avoid looking at her, well, outlines, if only out of respect. A big part of Peggy's appeal is her headstrong personality and her sense of humor, not only her physical appearance.

Steve has been trying to focus on that. It hasn't wholly worked. ]

How can you tell? the fabric?

The fabric. [ she concedes. ] The stitching. And the way it sits and holds and supports.

[ a few words more (she thinks) than she ought to be saying to anyone about the state of her underthings. peggy dabs the wadded up towel on his chin and then, job done, she drops it into her lap. her arms reach our and rest loose on his shoulders. ]

[ He waits as she cleans the last bits of shaving cream, sitting as still as he's done throughout her careful work thus far. The moment she's done, the moment when she leans against him, he allows one palm to splay at the small of her back. ]

Hi.

[ he smiles at her, happy and utterly in love. ]

So, what's the verdict? Better?

[ the stubble, that is. ]

[ peg grazes an open palm up from his bare shoulder, across his neck, and along the line of his jaw. with her fingertips she feels the freshly shaved skin.

quite despite herself, she smiles. ]

Much.

[ and she doesn't even tell him off for having his hand on her back. ]

[ she smiles and up close, steve can see the dimples again. It's what finally does him in. He leans in, just a little, forehead resting against hers. His hold on her tightens. ]

You drive me crazy, you know that.

[ it's both amused and utterly fond. He almost says something else but decides it might already be obvious, it might already be present between him and her in this moment, in so many that came before. ]

[ certainly it's tough to mistake his interest when, for the past grip of time, she'd been practically pressed into his lap. there's been so very little accidental about how she proceeded from the very moment he implored her to "teach" him how to shave with a straight-edge razor.

he's so near, now, that it's hard to focus on just one eye. ]

It's been entirely intentional. [ she's pleased to confess. ] Well, the past twenty minutes were. At any rate.

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