driftfleet | ship mingle: february is for starstruckers.

About my eyesight?

[ it's a tease that starts and is destined to go unfinished because he does as she says and turns, seemingly about to say something and at once, stops short. he had expected, what? clothes, to begin with, the dry ones that he packed. it's not that he isn't familiar with the comfortable, intimate press of her body to his at nights but this isn't the darkened room aboard the starstruck, not by far.

instead he just takes a moment to openly stare and only after it passes does he remember to release the breath he's been holding. ]

It's going to be a bit challenging to complete anything like this -

[ a drawing or a straight thought. ]

[ she suffers a flicker of uncertainty -- had she strode a step to far? peggy rarely lets her hesitation bubble to the surface. and while she's by no means uncomfortable with being seen by him, she does worry about toeing the line between bold enough and too bold by far.

though she does settle her loose fists on her nearly-bare hips. hardly the softest of 'poses', really. ]

And after all this talk of the serum -- I'd think you'd be able to boast a steadier hand than most. [ no matter what (or who) he's sketching. ] But if you're not up to the challenge, I can always put on something, well, more.

Usually I can.

[ it's all going to be a bit more challenging under present circumstances and if he is to manage this, the least he can do is say something and not only stare at her. he shakes his head, smiling a bit at her. ]

Is this how you're going to stay the whole time? your feet will start complaining.

-- Don't worry about my feet. Good God. [ she rolls her eyes. her feet? really? but peggy does break her stance just long enough to grab his notebook and pencils. barefoot (and bare a lot of other things) she marches the supplies over to steve and pushes them gently against his chest.

once again, she looks up at him. her brows rise. there's a great deal that she doesn't say. ]

[ and to think, they only just discussed the little details he can see thanks to serum. He can almost tell the texture of the fabric just by looking at it but that is far less interesting than the way the sun kisses her skin.

This won't do. Setting aside both the pencils and his sketch book, he crosses the distance between them and skims his fingertips down her sides. He settles both hands at her hips and tugs her closer to the fire and then settles down, giving her a little nudge to coax her to do the same. ]

Better.

[ he takes lovely liberties -- leaping from a wandering eye to wandering hands. he reels her in, and she eyes the cast-aside sketchbook. not quite the gradual ramp-up she'd envisioned, but she finds herself unlikely to resist this fresh temptation.

peggy grips his wrist with a firm hold before easing down beside him. the waning sun is still warm -- and the fire is warmer. she leans her chin on his shoulder. ]

A little tough for you to sketch anything with me nearly sitting in your lap, Steve.

These things are a process, you know.

[ his tone is light and more than a tiny bit distracted. ]

You can't jump straight to it, you need a bit of time for observation.

[ perfectly professional only that he's not only observing, he's exploring - her sides first but after that, her back and shoulders, open palms rather than ghosting fingertips. ]

[ she's familiar, now, with the way he gets under her guard: he starts with light touches that give way to whole hands. one palm skates her spine and peggy leans forward -- and, after first nudging aside the draped towel, she kisses his shoulder in an effort to hide the way her eyes flutter shut. the heat felt earlier in the afternoon hadn't abated; it had only been curtailed. however briefly. ]

Observation. [ she echoes, her voice betraying an attempt to sound skeptical. peggy is quick to remind herself (silently, with a firm open-palmed squeeze low on his waist) that he's just about as nearly-naked as she is. ] I know your quicker to remember details than that, Steve. You'll have to try some other excuse.

You can't rush art. I'm taking this very seriously.

[ but his words fade into a low, slow exhale at her touch and his hands move down her spine and over hips and thighs, down her legs until they find her knees. He presses a kiss to her nape. ]

What if I miss something? Can't have that.

[ -- there is a glorious half-step of difference between getting into a comfortable tangle under the bedclothes back on the starstruck and what's happening now. deliberate, targeted exploration. her back arches beneath his hands. a muscle in her thigh first twitches, then relaxes. he's winning; she doesn't mind. ]

You might convince yourself with a line like that one. You won't convince me. [ and yet she actively encourages his diversion, it seems, when she climbs into his lap. better to sit on him than on the pebbled and inconsistent ground. she twists in the opposite direction, instead letting her shoulders settle against his chest.

peggy wraps his arms around her and lifts one hand to her mouth for a brief kiss. ]

Damn.

[ but there isn't a shade of disappointment there not when she turns in his arms and settles against him. He sighs, breath skirting along the damp skin where her neck meets her shoulder. ]

Seems like I'm out of excuses.

[ nothing left to mask a rather obvious truth, his free hand moving from her navel and up until it is stopped by fabric. ]

[ and for a beat or three she doesn't say anything at all. this is something worth savouring -- a moment that's intimate and impossible. if she (for just a moment) scrunches her eyes more tightly shut to stave off any wayward emotions, it's only because days like these are precisely what she'd thought she'd never get to experience. not with him, at any rate. and he makes a world of difference. a day like this truly strips away any thought of the past tense, and of things lost. opportunities gone.

she sits a little taller with every inch his hand tracks upwards -- breath catching the whole way. it's been a few months since the hotel debacle. they'd started sharing a bed and she'd started relaxing a little more around him. and he'd started laying claim to her mornings. she knows they're doing all of this backwards -- and part of her doubts they'll get very far, even tonight. but the possibility is thrilling enough.

peggy bites down on her smile. the air is warm enough, but she shivers all the same. obvious truths, indeed. ]

You're not about to say something idiotic and inappropriate about honour -- yours or mine?

[ never letting it go. ]

No ma'am.

[ that was an idiotic mistake indeed but not one that he will ever repeat again not even in jest - she's armed, after all.

He does, however, chuckle when she brings it up and turns his head to kiss her shoulder. ]

Not gonna say a damn thing.

[ honestly, it shouldn't make her heart race so readily when he deploys a ma'am. but it does -- and in response she seems to melt against him. the quick dip the lake worked exactly as intended: washing away inhibitions and hang-ups with more ease and less sleaze than a bottle of bourbon.

peggy reaches down and slides her fingertips along his thighs -- curling them over the round of his knee. like a sovereign sitting on a throne. ]

Smart. You're learning.

[ it's an overwhelming sort of intimacy, the kind that leaves goosebumps on the skin just beneath her fingertips, that has her lean into him like she does. One hand settles beneath her breast, at the exact spot where he can feel her heart beats, the other tilts her chin just enough so he could kiss her, deep but short, merely a sample. ]

If I say anything, you'll call me a sap.

[ her mind works quickly, unraveling each action of his and examining its core motivation: the flat palm against her rib cage and the chuck beneath her chin. in her thoughts, she's kissing him even before their lips meet. it's like seeing battle plans laid out on the table, but infinitely sweeter. infinitely nicer. ]

That's because you are one. [ a sap. despite how sweet and nice it all is, her words carry the same practiced edge. and peggy, for her part, would deny sappiness in herself until she went blue in the cheeks. actions speak louder than words, however, and she returns his kiss with a belying tenderness.

her breath quickens -- and the inconvenient truth of so bare a torso means her chest rises and falls with each visible sigh. but peggy hardly notices. she's far too busy chasing down a second kiss, disappointed with how short he'd made the last. ]

You gotta be right.

[ it all becomes a little sharper and clearer now, with how close they are. steve has never felt an inward desire to tell her sweet nothings - has never really felt the need to alert her to the obvious facts that he finds her very beautiful or other such compliments. it's never been about that. he met beautiful women during his life but the truth of the matter is, something in peggy has always spoken to that same something in him, a rare sort of stubbornness, set-in-stone ideals and an attitude that almost dares others to say you can't only to prove otherwise.

but that's entirely sentimental too, isn't it? and before he can think if to tell her all of that or not, she trades one short kiss for a longer one that quickly morphs into an even longer one and steve grips her side, just above where he can feel the rhythm of her heartbeats, his feel quicker than they've ever been. he breathes her name, once and then another word, ]

Inside.

[ there's no one out here and still. there's earth and pebbles and he can't see her as properly as he'd like. ]

[ she's twisted. head turned; body facing another direction. there's nothing about it that's comfortable, but she doesn't notice. she's too caught up in the kisses and his firm touch on her sides. too caught up in the warmth of his lap and the still-sticky dampness of lakewater not yet adequately toweled away.

but then he gives way to single words -- no sentences -- and his loosening inhibitions slice through hers like a sharp knife. ]

And what about the fire? [ peggy asks, not really caring one whit about the flames but caring an awful lot about his answer all the same. like challenging him to be insouciant about it all. ] What about your sketches?

[ but she's already on her feet -- looming over him, just a moment, before she drags steve to join her. peggy grabs his head in her open palms and pulls his mouth towards hers. ]

Later.

[ the sketches. it takes a moment for him to remember what she means when she refers to the fire and when he does, he gives a small, backwards kick, earth flying to cover flames. it might be enough to put an end to the flames and might not, he doesn't look back to check. ]

dealt with.

[ it's all very short, all very punctual, as if they're in the middle of an OP and each word must count. the previous moments stretched pleasantly, slow and languish; the ones that follow are hurried, as if a gear was shifted. they seem to move at once, she pulls him down, he grabs her sides and all but hauls her back into his arms and blindly walking her backwards, away from the fire he built and towards the tent she's built. ]

[ she could ask about her honour, next, but peggy finds herself rather disinclined to spoil the mood. instead, she watches dirt fly into the flames -- and hears a pleasant crackle as some of the embers start to suffocate.

her steps fall in sync with his, however hurried. and as they fumble backwards, she's happy to recall she hadn't buttoned down the tend's boxy door. elbows and angles snagging on canvas, they manage to get themselves inside. the tent itself is shaped more like a small shed than any conventional tent -- build to house the bird people, and not a pair of humans. earlier, she'd already laid out both sleeping rolls and a few extra blankets.

she's moved on from his mouth. instead, she tastes a line of skin from his jaw down to his shoulder. sucking on the skin of his neck for a moment before moving onward. ]

-- Steve? [ she says his name between breathes. it's like a signal. a lit lamp to snag his attention for one last sober second thought. ]

[ he never really looked at the tent before nor does he, now. All that registers is the fact that they've stumbled inside and that it's spacious. Beyond that, there's nothing. His entire attention is focused on her, he slides both palms up her back, over her shoulder and down her arms. ]

Peg?

[ he looks down, meets and holds her gaze, it all feels like the height of battle, the middle of one of their sparring matches, all adrenaline and energy buzzing just beneath skin surface ]

[ her breath is showing, now. ragged, and physical. her chest falls with each sigh. peggy also feels the similarity between their sparring matches and this moment. indeed, she has to take care not to try too hard to get him on his back right away. patience, she cautions herself. ]

I'm all in. [ however evident that might have been the moment he turned around and saw her standing there in lingerie, she knows it's worth articulating aloud. not least of all because what happened back at the hotel, months ago. she wants to know that he's ready, too. ] If you are.

[ her caresses aren't simply soft. not any longer -- so when she runs an open hand over her side, she also grips the muscle just beneath the skin. curling around to his lower back, her fingernails leave little marks. love-dents. ]

[ he has to force himself to focus on her words rather than letting his fascination with her take over. He looks at her for a moment, a glint of pale blue and gold over the darker blue fabric of her bra, it's a terribly pleasing sight. It's the combination of that and the way her touch turns sharper that has him biting down on a rather undignified gasp.

When her words finally register he moves both his palms to her cheeks and manages a distracted, ]

Yeah.

[ when he kisses her, it's shallow and messy, a graze of lips that's a distraction from what must be a retaliation, moving one hand over her neck, following the golden chain he got her down and over her breast. ]

[ there is a great deal of pent up energy lurking behind this moment. her next breath heaves the swell of her chest into his wandering hand; his next kiss finds it perfect mark and she is, indeed, distracted. they're standing with just enough headroom in the bizarre shed-like tent, and the heavy canvas makes for little light. but light's not so necessary, not when her eyes are already shut.

his monosyllabic answer might as well have flipped a switch. peggy pulls him in -- nearer, firm against her hips. and she does so without breaking apart their kiss, but by deepening it. her chin tilts and she pulls, insistent, on his bottom lip.

most importantly, she doesn't say a word. ]

[ it feels a bit like what he imagines surfing to be, a quick, breathless rise and a partial loss of control, a feeling of a few missed heartbeats and beneath it all, a thrill. Once curious about dark blue fabric, he's now far more interested at the skin beneath, thumbing at the outline of her bra while moving his other hand to nudge a strap off her shoulders.

There's little point at hiding it, the kiss deepens, her own lips tug at his and steve hisses, low and audible. They've rarely had so little space between them. ]

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