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

[ 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. ]

[ steve is an excellent tactician and this isn't so different. It's just a matter of learning what makes her tick, what makes her tighten and gasp. It's a slow, slow exploration. He finds the different spots that she seems to like best. In a matter of minutes, his fingers are wet and he feels himself hard and wanting. he watches her intently, studying her responses. ]

You're all flushed.

[ he smiles at her. He's far too happy to make her respond like this, to flush and squirm. ]

[ also your fault, she thinks, but there's no bandwidth left to tell him so now that he commits to his grand experiment. his fingers trace in ways and to places she didn't anticipate would feel so different under someone else's touch. and when his fingertip strays high, teasing at her hooded clit, her whole body seems to light up.

her hips roll. her tongue darts out, brief, and paints a fresh wet sheen on her bottom lip. ]

—Right there. [ she exhales the command. ] I like it right there. Your finger.

Edited 2020-04-04 20:14 (UTC)

[ He thinks it might all be enough. A bit more of this vision of Peggy, almost entirely bare on his bed, twisting beneath his fingertips, and he'll come undone. When he finds the spot, the one that makes her breath catch, he focuses his attention there, soft caresses and firmer pressure. ]

I can tell.

[ she's becoming wetter, he can feel it. Out of sheer want, he moves his free hand to her breast, caressing the soft skin, her hardened nipple. ]

[ whenever she imagined this moment, she never imagined it like this—laid out like a platter for steve's eager, attentive learning. where her instinct might have otherwise been to suck in a sigh or bite down on a moan, not least of all because she's not used to having a whole house to herself, she realizes that what's best now is if she commits to every reaction.

and she tells herself it's all for the benefit of his education. every full moan and every shuddering whimper. he caresses her breast and new gooseflesh avalanches down her belly.

it's hard to know whether she's commanding or begging: ] Harder, Steve.

Hell, Peggy.

[ she's lovely, she's beautiful. Steve becomes quickly addicted to it, to her moans and the way her voice hardens, colored by her arousal. It's easy, so very easy, not to be shy, to dip his fingers, gather wetness and rub her clit, quick and hard. ]

You're so beautiful.

[ keenly, she reaches with one hand and grabs onto his arm—just above his elbow—as if she could keep his attention on her with this one iron grip. her nails dig into skin; her thumb braces hard.

—and for a moment she wonders how on earth he knows to do what he's doing. beyond her loose instruction, he seems to have some blueprint in mind. some suggestion he's following. she'll have to ask him about it. eventually.

for now, it's all she can do to writhe under his touch. she half-expects to come simply from his devout, determined ministrations. every rub of his finger makes her body tighten that little bit more. ]

God—yes. [ she praises him, half sitting up so she can search out his mouth and kiss him hard. ]

[ she's been patient so far but suddenly, something changes and she demands rather than asks, she holds onto him with surprising ferocity and Steve likes her like this, likes her taking kisses and the little marks her fingernails leave on his arm. In mere moments, he wears more lipstick than she does, his lips smudged with her signature color.

He knows where she's at, knows that she's close, he has felt it himself many times when he touched himself in the shower or under the sheets ( thinking of her, only her, her in her tailored suits and red lips, her in her combat boots; the smell of gun powder and soap ). He keeps the pressure right there; small, tight circles. He presses his forehead against hers, eyes open the entire time.

He wants to see her. ]

[ she's all a-quiver. every last nerve feels like it's humming—played to delight by his careful, caring fingers. peggy nips at his lower lip and offers sharp little nibbles. then, afterwards, as their foreheads tent...she looks him directly in his eyes. ]

Careful—[ she says soft-like, as though she's daring him to be anything but ]—unless you're keen for me to come like this. From your fingers alone.

[ it's wry, offered as a warning but meant has a suggestion: please, yes, make me come like this. ]

[ her eyes are darker, he notices and half wonders if his are the same, if they show even mere signs of how affected he is by watching her. ]

I want you to.

[ what does she look like, when she comes? What sort of sounds would she make? Would she become even wetter? Steve leans down, easing her back against the pillows, his lips are swollen and smudged red, his fingers are relentless, rubbing quick and hard, inspired by her threat. ]

[ —in a restless, wonderful state somewhere between arousal and absolution, peggy starts to think he's been a bit disingenuous in asking for her lessons. there's too much enthusiasm and confidence in how he touches her. too much imagination. it's not that he feels like an expert—far from it, she can read a sort of darling clumsiness into some moments—but it's as though he was already anticipating this little pop quiz.

like he knew he'd be called upon to play her like a fiddle. quick, dexterous fingers toying between her thighs. her back stretches; arches; and he resulting movement rolls her hips. there's a kind of swirl in the motion, like she's being guided along by the contact between his fingers and her clit.

christ—she swears, her hand fisting in the quilt and bunching it into a little mass. everything starts with a quake and quiver that builds and builds and builds until her whole body falls to shudders. a keen moan pitches first high, then low, and drags out to kind of rhythmic whimper as she bucks against his hand. simulating another movement—as though imagining him inside, pumping. as though her body knows what it ought to be receiving. ]

[ right there and then, Steve knows that this is how he loves her best. That very moment when everything comes to a climax, when she's overtaken by little quakes and sounds is his favorite moment. He already knows he will spend a lot of time trying to get her exactly to this place again, as often as she'll allow him. It's just that she's so very beautiful in that moment. Steve kisses her and shifts to lie next to her again. His fingers are still moving against her. He watches her, tries to find out when's the right moment to stop, when's the moment when the little shivers stop.

For a few moments more, he keeps at it, he draws it out. ]

Tell me when to stop.

[ wave after wave—sea over bow—a happy completion crashes over her. he takes her so far beyond the peak, like she's soaring in clouds above, and his fingers keep going. and she wonders whether the quakes will ever stop so long as he's touching her. strumming her. her spine curves and she curls around his touch, fingers digging into the muscle of his arm with a hesitancy that suggests she doesn't know whether she wants to stop him.

—but, god above, she's never felt this sensitive. peggy is gasping for air before she wrenches his hand from between her thighs and brings his palm to her cheek. squirming, fidgeting, she kisses his fingertips with a kind of quiet gratitude.

her eyes slip shut. she cuddles closer—throwing a leg around his hip and hauling herself near. ]

—Need only a moment to catch my breath.

As many as you need.

[ but oh, this is wonderful, too. She shifts quickly between two appealing states, the height of her passion and a sweet press of her body against his. He moves and rubs circles over her bare back, trying to help her catch her breath and settle her pulse. He presses a kiss against her shoulder, right above the scars he finds there. ]

Want me to cover you up?

[ apparently, he thinks they're going to cuddle for quite a while. ]

[ —all she wants is a respite, not a recovery. and although steve's gentle, coaxing touches are lovely and lulling, peggy isn't prepared to hang her hat just yet. she curls close, lipping and kissing at his cheek, before drawing back just far enough to look him in the eye.

she laughs, brief and low. ]

Why? You'll just have to uncover me again.

[ they're far from done. ]

That wouldn't be so bad.

[ uncovering her, that is. He smiles at her, at her gentle gestures of affection. It's such a sweet moment that he draws her even closer - he runs a little warmer than most, after all. He'll be as good as a blanket, at least for now. ]

Might even be fun.

[ to think that he might do this again, peel her clothing off and have her like this in his bed. ]

[ she's so tempted to melt into his arms—to say here, cocooned, until the end of time. sod the assignment and sod the world outside. until (of course) steve mentioned fun and her own appetite leaps at the suggestion. a soft, slight twisting in her core.

she breathes out. her body shimmies closer. she finds his neck and lips at the column of his throat—sucking a kiss that starts soft and gets harder, harder, harder. ]

I can think of a few other things that might also be fun.

[ good lord. where to start? except that she draws a palm down his chest, down his body, and idly kneads him through the front of his trousers. ]

[ he's not ready for what she stirs in her wake. His muscles twitch when she touches him, and her biting kiss inspires a shiver and a gasp but when she fondles him, he nearly jumps out of his skin, writhing and groaning her name. He's hard and heavy in her hand, warm even through the fabric. ]

Sorry.

[ he tries to relax, to remember to breath. ]

[ she savours his reaction. every syllable and slither. peggy hooks a leg around his, anchoring them together, and doesn't stop her onslaught of curiosity. her knuckles crook; she grazes the back of her fingers along the ridged line in his trousers. and at the apex, she thumbs a button. ]

Good God. [ she comments, quietly. ] What could you possibly be sorry for?

[ because she's enjoying every moment. ]

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