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

[ by this point, she might as well wrap a leg around the back of his chair—so wholly and completely has she turned his lap into her throne. peggy's fingers skate and dance along his chest, grabbing whenever she finds a plane of muscle meaty enough to dig into.

words continue to escape her. actions always did speak louder, at any rate, and she aims to deafen them both with the way she nips at his mouth and drags her kisses across his freshly shaved jaw. peggy finds his neck and nuzzles, body rocking against him just to reach the hollowed space behind his ear. ]

Peggy.

[ it seems like she's everywhere all at the same time. He feels it all at once, her lips, her finger nails, the warmth of her body against his. He holds her close and gasps when she rocks against him. It's a lot, it's almost too much. He scoots back only a little. ]

Sorry. I just - I've never -

[ he looks a little sheepish. This really isn't how he planned to tell her, and yet. ]

[ she could get drunk on his reactions: the sound of her name on his tongue; the way he gasps; the endearing way he jumps like he's been burned. peggy offers mercy in the way she pauses—stilling her palms against his chest and sitting, stationary, for just a moment.

she draws back and looks him in his eyes. ]

I'd often suspected as much.

[ plain english. this time, she doesn't compel him to finish his sentences or spill his secrets. ]

Do you—? [ she hums, stops, tries again. ] We can put a pin in this. If you like. Save it for another time.

[ she's an impatient creature, yes, but that doesn't mean she wants to rush him. ]

No. No more pins.

[ he has no intention of ever putting off anything that has to do with her ever again. Especially not this, not when he's been thinking of her like this for weeks now. ]

I want you. Only - you'll have to show me.

[ how. ]

[ —oh, how sorely tempted she is to have him ask her. but she can be merciful and generous, from time to time, and peggy leans back only so far as letting her hands rest on his thighs would allow her. ]

You'll have to bear with me. [ she half-teases. ] Because it's been a while.

[ since she's been with anyone. and even then, that someone had left an awful lot to be desired when it came to attentiveness and enthusiasm in the bedroom. not that she and fred ever quite made it to a bedroom—they were engaged but unmarried and living in army housing. they took what opportunities they could, but they never quite lasted long enough to satisfy her.

peggy watches him. her eyes are bright and curious. ]

Why don't you unbutton my top.

[ she suggests. after all this talk of undergarments, she supposes he's due a view. ]

[ her lipstick is a mess and Steve decides he likes it like it. He touches the corner of her mouth, brushing off some red pigment, utterly fascinated.

And then she makes her offer and while his cheeks flush, his fingers are steady. He goes through each button, slowly and carefully. When he dares to nudge her blouse aside, he mutters a soft damn. ]

It fits you like a glove.

[ and he's a bit agitated at Stark now. How the hell does he even know her size? ]

[ it's unfair how long her takes. how slow and steady. how careful. but she can at least pacify herself by watching how the colour rises in his cheeks. by hearing that brief note of admiration as he swears.

steve isn't wrong. the wine-red fabric clings and lifts in every way it's meant to. the cups practically spill over with her flesh—as though offering it up.

and, indeed, she reaches for one of his hands and brings it to a breast—nestling his palm against the lower, silk-wrapped curve. ]

It would seem that no expense was spared. As I said, the stuff in that wardrobe is top shelf.

[ he doesn't know where he is on that. On the one hand, Howard buying these things to Peggy is entirely unacceptable; on the other, there's no denying they're perfect for her, nor that they achieve the desired response from Steve.

But just then, when she leads his hand to her breast, he can feel her warm beneath the fabric and he exhales, a soft hiss of air. Her skin is warm and Steve realizes he prefers her softness to any fabric. Instict takes over and he moves the cup down, tugging so he can swipe a curious finger over her nipple. ]

I don't know. I like you better this way.

[ —she breathes in a sharp gasp of air. quick and audible, straight until the moment her mouth snaps shut and she bites down on any further, additional, illustrative sounds. and she is (perhaps) a little self-conscious for how quickly and eagerly that same swiped nipple pebbles hard.

her fingers bite into his wrist, as she hasn't let go since guiding his touch upward. and her hips engage, lifting slightly, as her thighs tighten on his waist. ]

Don't speak so soon. [ she chides him, voice gone dark and inky with desire. ] You're only seeing one part of a whole set.

Some things I'm sure of.

[ for example, peggy's reactions are everything. Steve realizes he must have done something right. Her skin tightens beneath his thumb. A tactician, he makes a mental note of it for later. He massages her breast, sighing happily. ]

This is one of them.

[ definitely one of them. ]

[ it's slow, thoughtful progress. she sits and basks and enjoys the thorough way in which he kneads her breast—just the one—and confesses his certainty about things he's barely yet experienced. it's endearing, really.

it's darling. and it's making her ache to take him out of this small, ensuite bathroom. she glances over her shoulder, at his bedroom, and the big old bed housed within.

she said she's show him how. but... ]

You do know the basics, right? The...overall theory of what's about to happen.

[ what? she does or doesn't know what a life of soldier gossip has done to his expectations. ]

I may be a virgin but I know the theory.

[ he's spent years hearing about Bucky's many girlfriends and their back alley adventures. Not to mention, he's got some very good advice from the 30 or so young women he spent months on the road with, back at the USO tour. Applying them is the real mystery. He watches her carefully and gets up, letting her feet find the floor. ]

Whatever I don't know, you'll teach me.

Bloody hell.

[ she curses—playful enough, heels finding a place on the tiled bathroom floor. now that she's standing, again, she grows more aware of her undone state: blouse unbuttoned, one bra cup pulled down and no longer doing its job. she's half-tempted to tuck everything back into place.

instead, she sheds her blouse entirely and turns her back toward him, bidding him to undo the clasps holding the bra in place. ]

I've already given you one lesson today. Is it not enough?

[ of course not. ]

You can spare a few more.

[ she strips, leaves the blouse on the floor and steve finds it difficult to breathe. he trails his touch down her back, along her spine and up her sides, stepping closer to kiss her shoulder first, then her neck as he unhooks her bra. He trails his kisses down her arm, nosing the strap down, lettin the garment whisper its way to the floor. ]

After all, you're a good teacher.

[ steve informs her of what she can spare. peggy withholds a half-chuckle, but it dovetails into a happy sigh as his fingers and his mouth find little tracks against her skin. there are the bullet scars on her shoulder—and, once she turns around, the ragged remains of an impalement injury near her lower abdomen. half of that scar, however, dips hidden beneath the top of her skirt.

peggy kicks her abandoned bra aside—faces him again—and reaches out to gently tap his cheek. ]

Well then. [ she seems to smile without lifting the corners of her lips. ] What's the first thing you want to learn?

[ she turns and steve wraps his arms around her. He takes a step closer and then they're skin to skin, her breasts against his chest.

He's heard a lot about what women love from the dancers at the uso tour. The best advice, however, he's got from a tall blonde called Sally who told him to heed the advice but also figure out what his own girl loves.

And Steve only cares about one woman. ]

Teach me what you like.

Helluva broad request.

[ and it's one she meets with a low whistle. peggy asks herself: what does she like? because there's that which she thinks about—him, mainly, in varying states of undress and exertion. and there's that which she knows she likes—namely, whatever solace she can eke out from the tips of her own fingers.

so what is she supposed to tell him, now?

she wraps her arms around his waist and anchors herself to his body. his skin is warm on hers. ]

We might have to suss that one out together. [ what she likes with him, that is. ] But I've got some ideas on where we can start.

That so?

[ suss that out, she says and while, on its own, the phrase is not erotic, in the current context, it's devastatingly alluring. He walks her back towards the bedroom, step after step until her knees meet the back of the bed, until he can coax her to lie down and lie down next to her, trailing his touch past her bare arm. ]

Show me.

[ hard to say exactly how she keeps her balance, walking backward—maybe it's inherent skill or maybe it's the ability to hold onto his arms and be guided until she ends up back in the same place she started—sitting, prim, at the edge of his bed.

but then they go degrees further and he pulls her down so that they're lying side-by-side, eye-to-eye, and peggy uses the tip of a stocking's foot to caress along his calf—toeing the seam of his trousers and wondering where to start.

softly: ] Put your hand on my thigh. Under the skirt, please and thank you.

[ he smiles at her touch, inching closer to it. he watches her foot and then, slowly, splays his palm over her knee and up, up up, until it disappears beneath her skirt, until her feels lace and silk and wonderful, wonderful warmth. He looks at her as shifts, caressing her inner thigh. She's particularly soft there, he notices. ]

Like that?

Like that.

[ she confirms, wondering all the while how long she'll be able to keep a calm voice—giving him instructions on how to provide her with certain tone-straining sensations. more than that, how the devil is she meant to play patient? what she wants, deep down, is to tell him to skip every step between and jump straight to kicking off his trousers and burying himself inside her.

—but that's the wide, theoretical framework he already knows. oh, god, if only he understood the sort of sweet torture he's inflicting upon her simply by asking to be taught.

her knees part; her hips shift; she grips his bare shoulder with a tight, nail-digging tension—as though it might steady her resolve and keep her on track. peggy's breath seems to quicken. ]

Play a little—if you like—before touching higher.

[ she's such a fascinating creature. She moves a little, she holds him tight as if she's affected by his touch, already. Steve smiles and shifts until he can bracket her parted knees with his own. He stops touching her only to inch her skirt a little higher so he could see. It's a compelling combination, fierce skin and soft, pale skin. He studies her as one would a map, caressing and massaging, soft and firm, as if he's trying to study her by heart.

A little, she says, but it takes him several minutes before he touches her over the silk of her knickers, tracing the garments edge and finally, a line right above her center. ]

You're warm.

[ never has she ever been with someone like this—someone who wants to take his time and learn every possible snippet of a moment before he moves onward. it's sweet and it's maddening and peggy can't hide the way her body squirms, anticipatory and impatient.

what an unexpected place she's found herself—laid back on his bed, topless, with her skirt hitched up her hips. nearly wholly on display—and, given the nature of her work, so much vulnerability ought to unsettle her.

but not with steve. ]

Wet, too, I'd wager.

[ she informs him—not coy enough to avoid the obvious descriptor. she twists needy fingers in his hair and loses the ability to breathe whenever his finger draws a line down the very middle of her knickers. her hips twitch up to meet his touch. ]

—Why don't you go ahead and check?

[ perhaps she can pass off her impatience as another part of the lesson. ]

[ she's bold, in both her words and her actions. Steve smiles when her body moves towards him, towards his exploring fingers. She shifts on the bed, restless and beautiful and Steve quickly learns that he likes pleasing her, doing as she says, giving her what she wants, even if he has to be taught how.

He steadies his breath and reaches to tug her knickers down her legs, discarding them on the carpet. Slowly, he touches her inner thigh again; only this time, he dares to dip his fingers towards her. She is wet, wet and warm, a fleeting touch is enough to moisten his fingers. ]

Yeah you are.

[ and, just like that, she's lost another scrap of clothing. it's midday and sunlight still streams through the window and part of her shrinks back at the thought that she's put so on display for him -- mitigated mostly by her affection for steve, and the tentative way he proceeds.

this brief touch brings another gasp to her lips. the muscles in her legs seem to engage and tighten -- and she bites her bottom lip before she makes another sound.

how dare he touch her only so briefly. ]

Your fault.

[ she reminds him -- a hand reaching out to fist, briefly, in the tidy bedclothes. ]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject