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

[ god, but she adores his boldness. his courage. the way he's invited himself into her room—or what passes for her room in howard's mansion—once again. his fingers touch her leg, her knee, and it's all she can do to restrain herself to a single melting sigh.

she isn't cold but she still shivers. ]

—How much did you hear?

[ her head tilts. there's no hiding it, it seems, and it's not as though he's running away from the conversation. why should she? ]

My name. And - you. The way you touch yourself.

[ sighs, a slight wat sound. She doesn't move, remains spread before him, bold and brazen. Steve trails his touch from her knee and up her leg; slow, loving. ]

I wanted - hell, Peggy. I've been thinking about you, too.

[ the whole world pivots on this exchange. they're over the rubicon, past the point of no return, but the quality of this brave new world will depend almost entirely on the next few seconds. she seems to tremble as she holds her breath—feeling his hand ease up her leg.

peggy places her fingers on the back of his—her touch is warm and wet. ]

And what would I have heard if I went lurking outside your door? While you're thinking about me.

Edited 2020-04-19 21:23 (UTC)

Your name. Peggy. Ma'am.

[ it's a confession that he's never imagined he'll get to share with her, that his fantasies have started back when she was his drill sergeant. Steve's touch lingers along her inner thigh. Her skin is wet, it's enough to make his head spin. ]

Can I?

[ she's all hawkish observation. well—apart from the pink riding high in her cheeks and the way she seems to lean toward him the higher his touch climbs. gently, eagerly, she uses her hold on the back of his hand to guide him higher, higher, higher until his fingers slip under the longer french knickers she'd meant to wear to bed. ]

You could always ask what exactly I was thinking about you.

[ she directs him, suddenly keen to share. ]

Alright.

[ but hell, she's soft and she's warm and the moment he touches her properly he whispers a curse. She's wet, steve is tempted to withdraw his touch only to suck on his own finger and find out what she tastes like. He caresses her, light and soft and then he remembers he was supposed to ask her something. ]

What did you think about, Peggy?

[ she's sensitive every nerve feels tender—jacked up and on alert—after she'd already brought herself so damned close. even his brief, tentative touch makes her shiver. makes her want to sigh and sink down and give herself over to this high-tide arousal.

she only grips his hand so long, only guides him so far, before she relinquishes her hold and leans back a little—leaving him to explore. ]

About how I ought to have knocked you on your back. In the garden. After your run.

[ she leaves it at that—watching to see how he fills in her blanks. ]

[ she was particularly lovely this morning. It was something about her dress or her smart pair of heels or the curve of her smile. Steve imagines her above him, the fabric of her dress pooling over her thighs. He imagines her tugging off his sweatshirt and leading his hand below her skirt, much like now. His touch stills, he holds her gaze. ]

I wish you had.

[ —peggy also wishes she had. it might have been a measure more dignified (more controlled) to snag him by his shirt and haul him to the grass. rather than what's happening now, where he has her at such a keen disadvantage. the bare skin across her stomach prickles and raises. each breath is visible in her chest.

his hand still. peggy, more than a little needy in this house, inches forward on the desk. she moves toward his fingers. ]

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I suppose.

[ for a moment, he only watches her. He watches the deep brown of hr eyes, the curve of her smile, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath, the way her feet rest on the chair. She's beautiful. His fingers start moving again once the moment passes, slow and curious. It's a trial and error, some things stir a reaction, others don't. It's only a matter of watching and learning. ]

I guess it can teach us a lesson.

[ she fights to maintain even the barest scrap of her composure. firm and poised through her spine, she sits on the desk's edge as naturally and normally as if it were a proper chair. and a funny think happens down between their bodies, down where his touch meets her flesh, and peggy must silently admit that there's an alluring quality to his experimenting. his exploring. like he doesn't quite know where or or how to proceed, but he's so eager to test and try and tease out an answer.

and, warm and involuntary, her body does indeed answer. peggy can't quite suppress a shiver—nor the way her muscles seem to contract a twinge under his fingers. she breathes in long and audible through her nose and her grip on his arm turns to a back-raking of her fingernails up, up, up to her elbow.

the moment seems to hang there—unchanged—for a good minute while they look into each other's eyes and run all kinds of personal calculus. and then peggy makes her move, grabbing at his hip, his backside, tugging on him and his slip pants until she pulls him close. the height differential doesn't let her reach his mouth, but she does lean in and kiss his chest.

she tastes his skin. ]

[ being able to see what his doing, fingers caressing and circling, gathering wetness, is making it difficult to remain composed. Steve's cock feels impossibly hard when she shivers as the sound between them grows wetter. And then she pulls him against her and he can feel her wetness on his pants.

Her lips and tongue are hot. Steve rubs against her, sighing. His fingers are wet; curious, he sucks on them, familiarising himself with her scent and taste. ]

[ —good god, he just about floors her when she realizes exactly why he's sucking on his fingers. tasting her, sampling her, acclimatizing his senses. the thought and proof both send another jolt of lightning through her body. more than that, she can feel him hard, eager, pressed into the cleft between her thighs and it's all she can do not to rub back. ]

It feels like you might also be in need of a little help.

[ her fingers dance across his hip, the waistband of his sleep pants, and she teases the thought of pulling them down. ]

[ it's interesting - he loves visuals, it shows in his interest of art, it shows in the way his eyes followed her when he did the most basic things ( agent carter, tying the laces of her combat boots, agent carter assembling a weapon, all oddly alluring, all fascinating ), but visuals seem to work on her too. Steve can see it in the way her eyes follow his fingers as he works them out of his mouth and back between them, just as she reaches for him. ]

can you blame me?

[ he smiles, wraps an arm around her, keeping her in place, an intimate embrace. ]

[ she could blame him for a lot of things. namely, for the reason why they're in this daringly wonderful situation to begin with. blame his hearing, his senses, his bold choice to knock on her door and ask her through the wood whether she wanted him inside.

—god, heaven above, yes, she wants him inside. a hundred thoughts go spiralling out of control as she hugs him close. her breath leaves her lungs with one long sigh, emptying her out, before she kisses the plane of his chest once more.

and realizes she hasn't even managed to kiss him properly. yet. ]

Steve. [ she exhales his name. ] I can think of one bit of blame I could assign to you.

Yeah?

[ he squeaks the very word the moments her lips find his skin again, the sound morphs into a gasp. They stay locked like this, Steve's fingers probing between her legs, discovering and mapping, exploring and taking mental notes of where she seems to be especially sensitive.

it feels like every inch of him is sensitive, as far as she's concerned. he shudders every time she says his name, steve, she breathes and he's gone for her, utterly gone. ]

Which is it?

[ it's like he's got his fingertips wrapped around fine little strings all trailing off to other deep wells of sensation somewhere in her body. he flicks his finger down between her legs and she swears that colours explode in the back of her thoughts.

her thighs tighten—like a primal effort to keep his touch exactly where it is. locking him in with heat and wet and loveliness. ]

I need to kiss you.

[ she leaves his fingers be but otherwise hauls him down to her level and slots her mouth against his—tasting what he'd tasted, burying her tongue behind his teeth and taking a swipe at his. ]

[ peggy isn't gentle and it's the most wonderful thing. He never thought she would be, she's frank and she's straightforward. But when she applies it here and now, letting him know what she wants and needs, it makes him bend down the moment she pulls him near and hell, their kiss is deep, his moans vibrate between them, lost against her lips. ]

Peggy.

[ he smiles, he's so very much in love with her. ]

[ her palm glances up his arm, his elbow, his shoulder. she holds on tight and seems to almost hyper-extend her back just to lose herself in his kiss. she swallows up every moan, every sound, and feeds them back two-fold.

—kissing him brings back memories. car exhaust and jet fuel burning. theirs had been a farewell kiss, back then, but now they're inaugurating something else. something new. something built to last. ]

Mmn, yeah?

[ she responds to her name, cheek turning to press against his while she catches her breath. ]

We should have done this weeks ago.

[ he doesn't know why they haven't, doesn't know how he'll ever stop doing it anytime again. It's just that suddenly he gets to touch and kiss and hold and everything he's wanted to do for such a long time. It's a relief, it's bliss. ]

weeks ago, Peggy.

[ god knows he's wanted her, turns out the feeling was mutual. ]

[ she exhales a soft, almost mournful note of agreement. he's not wrong. they could have popped this lid the day he got back. the day he thawed. or—at the very least—the day after. ]

Perhaps. Doesn't change the fact that we've both got a job to do while we're here.

We do.

[ but he might not be referring to the same duty she does. He's too busy kissing the edge of her mouth, caressing her where she's warm and wet and sensitive. When he finds a spot that makes her switch, he focuses on it, watching her with open interest. ]

We have a lot to do.

[ but is he talking about reports? probably not. ]

[ —she swallows her next few words. they tumble inward with a slight gasp as his fingers briefly, briefly, briefly overcome her and force her hands down to her side. she grabs the edge of the desk and allows herself to squirm and rut back against his touch. it's damned novel to feel someone else toying with her cunt. novel and lovely. because it's him.

because she's wanted this since before he was lost. ]

Seriously, Steve. [ but the hitch in her voice doesn't sound all that dire. ] I've got heaps more data to collect.

You do.

[ but her gasps are delicious, the way her hips inch towards his fingers is exquisite. He presses right there, caressing her lovingly back and forth as she tells him all about work and data. ]

You're collecting right now.

I strongly suspect...

[ her words trail off into a second, sultry sigh. peggy spreads her palms against her desk and steadies herself. it's without rhythm, and it happens only once in a while, but her whole body seems to occasionally pump forward in search of something.

in search of him. ]

...that I'm not the one doing the data collection just now.

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