[ 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. ]
[ 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?
[ 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. ]
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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ 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. ]
[ —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. ]
[ he's gotten stern instructions about this from a redhead named Eleanor, that most women adore it, that most men don't bother and when they do they do it with far too much confidence. Follow cues, she's said. Ask.
He thought about nothing else for weeks, when he got himself off in the shower, he imagined Agent Carter increasing her legs and inching up her skirt and him kneeling down between her legs.
Follow cues, that was the advice and when steve laps at her folds, he eyes her the entire time, waiting for her instructions. ]
[ the hand that isn't twisting in his hair bunches a fist in the sheets instead—opening and closing and flexing even as her hips rock upward to meet his mouth. this first flush of a very different feeling causes her toes to curl. the sensation is no less potent, but it's also somehow softer and slighter despite its strength. she grits his name through her teeth. she pedals her heel against his side, his hip, his thigh. ]
Yes. [ peggy hisses. ] Almost there. A touch higher.
[ he'd discovered it earlier, her clit, and she's eager to lead him back to the same sensitive spot. ]
[ she's still wet, still warm. Steve follows her directions after a moment or two of tasting her. Already, he knows he could so this for however long she'll allow him to. Higher, she says, and he kisses her right above her clit before leaning in again to taste her right there. A tentative lap of two before lifting his head, lips glistening with her arousal. ]
[ —god, but she doesn't know whether she wants to kiss him or kill him when he tarries in following her orders. lingering, waiting, taking his time sampling between her thighs before he finally lands where she needs him.
peggy's hips flutter upward, urgent, the very moment he lifts his heard. she can barely register the evidence of his good deeds on his mouth and chin before answering... ]
[ the next instruction is a wonderfully simple one. Once he finds the right spot, it's only a question of building her up again. Steve's touch is slow and eager all at once. He watches her with a keen, open interest. What happens if he'll lap a little faster? Then what will she do if he flattens his tongue? And how will she react if he sucks on her clit, slow and intense? He checks for her responses, lifts his head to meet her eyes. ]
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[ 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. ]
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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. ]
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Sorry.
[ he tries to relax, to remember to breath. ]
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Good God. [ she comments, quietly. ] What could you possibly be sorry for?
[ because she's enjoying every moment. ]
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[ 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. ]
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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. ]
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[ 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.
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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. ]
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I found rubbers at the bottom drawer.
[ packages upon packages, really. he's only bothered to look last night. ]
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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.
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You're going to have to stop it.
[ there's absolutely no chance he can move like this. certainly not away from her touch. ]
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[ 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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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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. ]
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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.
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[ 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.
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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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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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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He thought about nothing else for weeks, when he got himself off in the shower, he imagined Agent Carter increasing her legs and inching up her skirt and him kneeling down between her legs.
Follow cues, that was the advice and when steve laps at her folds, he eyes her the entire time, waiting for her instructions. ]
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Yes. [ peggy hisses. ] Almost there. A touch higher.
[ he'd discovered it earlier, her clit, and she's eager to lead him back to the same sensitive spot. ]
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Like that?
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peggy's hips flutter upward, urgent, the very moment he lifts his heard. she can barely register the evidence of his good deeds on his mouth and chin before answering... ]
Don't stop.
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Peg?
[ look at him, awaiting input. ]
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