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

[ —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. ]

I -

[ he stumbles across the word, across a few sounds after, a hiss and a sigh and a choked moan. What could he possibly be sorry for, being the subject of her undivided attention like this? He watches her, her deft fingers, slender and clever. ]

Nothing.

[ damn, nothing at all. ]

It's already a lot.

[ her touch is everything. He reaches over, touches her hip, massaging the soft skin there, just beneath her crumpled skirt. ]

[ a lot, steve says.

peggy draws in a slow and measured breath—popping open the top button on his fly and working the next. she manages it all without glancing downward, choosing instead to continue looking him in his eye. ]

Too much?

[ she hesitates. but only briefly. ]

No.

[ he squeezes her hip, nudges her skirt up. She's gorgeous, soft skin and strong muscles beneath. Steve wants to explore her every which way. The anticipation makes his skin prickle and his cock to harden. He shifts, he arches, happy as he was to take his time with her, he's all restless impatience now. ]

C'mon, Peg.

[ it's nice—peeling away his patience and finding a maelstrom below it. dark eyes and darker wants, all culminating in a tell-tale twitch inside his slacks. his meandering touch on her hip backgrounds into something nearer a pedal note.

all her attention is on him. ]

C'mon and what?

[ she asks—all in a bid to make him ask. but she isn't so cold that she doesn't undo the second button, and then tugs on the zipper pull. ]

[ what, she asks and steve frowns, only a bit. After all, he's been taught that using any sort of language around a lady is incredibly rude. and he's peggy carter, asking him to tell her what he'd like her to do. for a moment, he seems lost for words. He blames her, her graceful fingers, the noise of the zipper being pulled down. he wants quite a lot of things, none of them he can put into words. not exactly. instead, he offers her a hint. ]

I found rubbers at the bottom drawer.

[ packages upon packages, really. he's only bothered to look last night. ]

[ aha. peggy exhales with smallish epiphany. so their mutual friend had indeed left him something more than turkish delights. stands to reason—and she might even look a bit pleased that howard's manipulation had indeed fallen upon them in more equal measure.

the zipper finds its lowest point. peggy peels back the edges of his fly and buries her hand in his shorts beneath—search him out heavy and hard in her palm, skipping straight to the moment where she wraps her fingers around bare flesh. ]

How thoughtful.

[ a brief, exploratory pump. ]

I suppose you ought to grab one, then.

[ good luck getting enough willpower to disengage and leave her long enough to reach the bottom drawer, however. ]

Or more than one.

[ she moves her palm an that one, small moment makes him twist towards her, quick and eager. It's good, it's so much better than his. It's her, it's Peggy, her fingers are smaller and he can fill the hints of her fingernails and it's enough to make him stir, push forward against her hand, seeking friction. ]

You're going to have to stop it.

[ there's absolutely no chance he can move like this. certainly not away from her touch. ]

—And if I don't?

[ stop it. she meets the flex of hips with a stroke of her palm, loosening and flexing her fingers around velvet skin. her thumb sweeps, touches, tweaks the head of his cock with an eager pressure before her hand ghosts back down the length of him. gentle(ish), given the relative dryness of the moment, but not without a purposeful friction. ]

I wouldn't be able to - Peggy -

[ he laughs, breathless and happy and far more turned on that he wants to be when she's only now started touching him properly. His are keen sounds, soft moans and a groan once her thumb finds the head of his cock. His muscles are tense, he thinks he might come from just that, just the fleeting touch of her palm. ]

I've been thinking about this for far too long.

[ he won't hold out, not like this and that might just be embarrassing. ]

The curiosity has been entirely mutual.

[ not the softest way to say it, she supposes, but there's no hiding her own character in the way she shimmies closer and braces her forearm against his chest—opposite still eagerly, confidently working over his erection.

—it's almost as though she's actively trying to sabotage his self-restraint. conducting her own personal, private experiment with his stamina and his strength. wondering (without much discretion) whether she might finish him off and then have him all over again before too long. ]

[ entirely mutual, she promises and steve wants to ask her what she's been curious about, the details of it all. He does't get a chance to, Peggy's curiosity takes a wonderful, dangerous turn, she works him over, quick and determined and he swears, a low hell as shivers and tenses. It takes a moment or two or three and he chokes her name, shuddering through his orgasm.

and he's still achingly hard in her hand. far more sensitive but as ready as he's been minutes ago. ]

it's good.

[ he smile, slightly delirious. that was far too fast but at the moment, he couldn't care at all. ]

[ —if at all possible, her expression is both adoring and smug all at once. something like self-satisfaction shimmers in the corner of her smile and she leans in, thigh digging gently between his legs and grinding upward even as she continues to stroke him through his orgasm.

and when he spills, hot and sudden, he does so over what little remains of her clothing and over the bared skin of her hip. it's a remarkably moving image, to be so marked by him.

peggy kisses along his throat—pleasantly surprised to find him still hard in her palm. ]

You're a wonder.

Not like you.

[ she's so beautiful, soft and strong and warm. He moves, turns, traps her beneath him. He shimmies out of his pants, tugs her skirt down. He's spent years thinking about her like this. Now that she's here, bare on his bed, he thinks no fantasy, no sketch of her compares. Steve doesn't reach for the bottom drawer, not yet, he bends his head and kisses her neck, her collarbone, the side of her breast. After a moment, he tests these new waters and laps at her nipple, sucking for a moment. ]

You have no idea how often I thought about this.

[ and, just like that, she's underneath him. it's a sudden and bewildering change—but one she doesn't mind in the slightest. she squirms in place, enjoying the smear of his seed on her belly and the press of his still-hard cock against her hip.

and then lower, still, as he ladders downward to dip his head toward her breast. a quiet curse leaves her lips. her back arches. and she could swear, there and then, that he might be a creature more divine than science-made. ]

About half as often as I did, I reckon.

[ she knits her fingers in his hair and holds his mouth to her nipple, massaging light lines into his scalp to encourage him onward. ]

Thought about you exactly like this, without a stitch on.

[ he confesses as he kisses a path from one nipple to the other. She's like a puzzle and steve tests each piece, focuses on her breasts first and then her stomach, one of her hip bones. He wonders if he might discover another way to make her unravel. ]

Better than anything in your wardrobe.

[ all the silks in the world couldn't compare. ]

[ —you haven't seen my whole wardrobe, but she swallows the barely-serious retort with a groan. steve traces a slow, maddening trail over her body and it's impossible not to notice how that trail trends downward. his freshly shaved chin leads the way, announcing every soft kiss with a smooth scrape.

as he descends, she regrettably loses the ability to toy and fondle with his erection. but the distraction is more than worthwhile.

in a sort of wicked acknowledgement and approval of his downward trend, her thighs part and her legs spread. her fingers—kneading into the nape of his neck—try to hurry his head downward. ]

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