[ closed ]

[revlon]

Who: Peggy Carter (revlon) & Steve Rogers (starspangle)
What: Goin' all the way.
When: April 8, late evening; post-birthday party.
Where: The Carter-Rogers apartment, Olympia.
Warning(s): as nsfw as these golden oldies can get

[ It's near midnight when the last of the party guests leave and Peggy almost doesn't want the evening to end. What a novel feeling this is, being so light and happy from the warmth of company, the buzzing under her skin from a few glasses and more than a few laughs. But as the evening winds down, Peggy finds that she'd like nothing more than to sidle up against Steve's side and while the hours away in his embrace, so utterly pleased and grateful for this gift he's given her — and maybe some people picked up on that, maybe that's why they've all drifted their way towards the door despite no one ushering them out.

Whatever the case, when the embraces are given, the final toasts raised, the last slice of cake eaten, everyone goes home and Steve and Peggy are left alone in their suddenly quiet apartment. She lingers at the door and listens to the last footfalls fade on the stone steps, the rattle of the wrought-iron gate as it opens and shuts. And then she shuts their own door and locks it, then turns and leans against the wood with a laugh riding on an exhale. ]

That's the last of them. [ She reaches out for him, fingertips outstretched in the air between them, and she smiles. Come here, is all but said. And once she can tangle his hand with hers, she tugs him closer. ] Eggsy, Emma, and Claire seem to have taken care of the washing up so I think we can leave everything else until morning. What do you say?

Comments

[revlon]

[ There's a first time for everything but that's the farthest thing from her mind when they come back together like this, kneeling in the centre of their bed in the half-darkness. All she can think, as Steve brushes his lips over her bare skin, as her hands travel up from his hips to explore the rest of him — smooth over his ribs, back, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck to simply hang on rather than guide him up or down — is how happy she is.

Peggy turns her head to press a kiss to his temple, lips curved into a soft smile, and then she draws away from him to sit back against the headboard, shimmying out of her dress and nudging it off to the side (it slips over the edge to the floor). It's entirely intentional, the artful way she drapes herself across the neatly arranged pillows, her hand the last bit of contact on his jaw before it falls away. Desire sings in every line of her, the flush of her cheeks, the smear of her lipstick, how dark and focused her gaze is as she surveys him from beneath lowered lashes. ]

I'd like you to kiss me, [ she murmurs, stockinged feet sliding across the blanket to invite him closer with a brush of her toes. ] And then I'd like you to take me to bed. [ She smiles, a flash of teeth and mischief in the warm lamplight. There's no hesitation or sheepishness in it. ] If that's all right.

[ It's an antiquated statement that means more than the literal; but it's the when of who they are. So it isn't out of place here with them. ]

[america]

Yes, ma'am. [ Steve answers, shifting his weight to his knees. He crawls forward and stills - just for a moment, long enough to be noticeable - because he looks at her, studies her, relishes in the image of her looking up at him from the pillows, nearly-naked, her hair framing her face, her cheeks flush with colour, her lipstick a bit of a mess because of him.

She's the most beautiful woman he's ever known, the most magnificent thing to be in the presence of. His heart feels full; no, it feels like it could burst. He's never felt this way about anyone before, not like this, nothing like this.

He leans in to kiss her, just as she's requested. And then he answers her properly: ] It's more than all right.

[ He runs his fingers along the length of her thighs, against the sheer fabric of her stockings, catching on the clasps of her garter. ]