[ Steve's hands continue to roam, exploring the shape of her before they eventually make their way to the zipper of her dress the same way she'd found the hem of his shirt (which, yes, is a button-down, something nice and in a deep shade of blue). There is no rush here, not tonight, that's true - but that doesn't mean there's a lack of eagerness either.
Jesus, he wants her.
He pulls the zipper down the length of her spine, slow and easily, mouth still on hers. The feel of her skin, soft and smooth and warm is a contrast to the roughness of his calloused fingers which now find purchase against the sleeves of her dress, lets them guide the fabric over the curve of her shoulders, reveals the straps of her bra. He shifts, breaks apart from Peggy long enough to make it easier for her to get to the buttons of his shirt and exhales at the first touch of her hands on his chest, the blossoming of heat in his stomach that travels down the length of him. ]
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Jesus, he wants her.
He pulls the zipper down the length of her spine, slow and easily, mouth still on hers. The feel of her skin, soft and smooth and warm is a contrast to the roughness of his calloused fingers which now find purchase against the sleeves of her dress, lets them guide the fabric over the curve of her shoulders, reveals the straps of her bra. He shifts, breaks apart from Peggy long enough to make it easier for her to get to the buttons of his shirt and exhales at the first touch of her hands on his chest, the blossoming of heat in his stomach that travels down the length of him. ]