driftfleet | April System Mingle

[ her hand tightens against the small of his back -- palm flat, but pressure firm. ]

Don't you dare.

Really?

[ an arched eyebrow. ]

Gotta say it's an interesting reversal of roles.

[ he did make a bit of a career of keeping her within hold. ]

[ role reversal all around, frankly. ]

I think I understand why you do it, now. [ delay her. hamper her. cling on like some over-muscled barnacle. ]

Mmm?

[ he sees an opening and once he does, he hurries to take advantage, pressing a kiss to her jaw and another to her neck. ]

Does that mean I won't have to do it anymore?

[ she turns her head -- opening up the line of her throat to his kisses. the hour's late and the day's been tiring, but peggy finds a burst of happy energy within. ]

I won't make any promises. [ not least of all because she enjoys the challenge he so often presents. ] You'll have to wait and see.

Well, it's still better than you saying no.

[ and isn't that a thought. he rather likes the chase and the struggle but every now and then, a morning with no such objections could be nice. he highly suspects that occurrence would take more than the usual half an hour. a rather appealing notion in itself. ]

Something to consider.

Something to consider.

[ she echoes his words -- thoughtful, then. it might be nice to take a morning and indulge him. peggy thinks about it while working her hands under the shirt he'd altered. her palms were warm against his skin. ]

[ there's a happy sigh, steve's thumb finds the line of her jaw and he leans in to find her pulse point, planting his next kiss there, a slight pressure of warmth and softness. the day is coming to an end, at last and on the same happy note it started with. a few turmoils and angered words in-between but still, it ends just as it began, in a rather loving embrace. ]

Careful 'round the pins.

[ the last words fades into a chuckle. of all the things that happened today, it would be nothing if she gets her finger pricked. ]

[ heeding his advice, she feels her way past a thin metal presence or two. peggy makes a point of being gently as she explores upwards, hitching the shirt along her forearms until it reaches a point where she may as well remove it from his narrow shoulders. her touch is lighter tonight than it had been that morning -- lighter, but still not careful. she harbours no interest in coddling him, even now. ]

I think I'll survive a few pricks. [ she chuckles alongside him, shimmying his shirt over his head. ]

It's weird.

[ he pulls both his hands out of the sleeves, presses close to kiss her, slotting their mouths together. ]

I always thought I felt less before the serum but.

[ the explanation is broken off, divided into parts by kisses. He reckons he's currently wearing the same amount of lipstick as her. ]

You're warm.

[ more than him and when he leans into her touch the difference makes itself known. ]

[ the shirt is quickly abandoned. tossed aside, its pins thudding dully against the wooden floor just outside their makeshift fort. peggy responds to his observation by wrapping her arms around him -- steadying him with warmth and certainty and just an edge of need. ]

Of course I'm warm. I've always been this warm -- difference is, you're no longer a furnace.

[ part of her misses his heat. she liked being enveloped in it -- held by him, warm and lively. but she won't tell him so now. now, she'll let him enjoy the inverse. have a taste of what she appreciates every morning, despite the protests. ]

I guess you're the furnace now.

[ he noses at the collar of her blouse, mouths at the skin he finds. Patient, he doesn't urge it off of her; instead, he undoes one button and then another, shifts closer into her space, kisses a line from her collar to the swell of her breast. ]

[ a soft sound is trapped in the back of her throat -- a hum, mixed with a sigh. peggy props her arms against his narrow shoulders, draping her hands against the back of his neck. warm, indeed, she steadies him in place. ]

I've been called a lot of things. [ she presses her mouth against the crown of his head -- urging his kisses to stay just there a moment. ] But never that.

Never?

[ he's tempted to move, to get a good look at her but chooses to oblige her, instead. there is a lot to linger on, the closeness, the the skin just beneath his lips and the relief found in her forgiveness and acceptance. there were many women who, after the serum, had decided that captain america was someone worthy of their smiles and their winks and their hints. it was always that much deeper with her, always so very different. it's clearer today, however and he is so very grateful for her. ]

Always a first for everything.

Spitfire, once. [ she kisses his temple. ] Harridan now and then. Dragon, hellcat, tartar. The whole lot. But no. [ another kiss. ] Never furnace.

[ her fingertips trace shapes against his shoulder blades -- soft, sweeping love-notes with no discernible letters or symbols. one nail gives way to a finger's edge, giving way to the next one and onward. the pressure is light, usually, but sometimes she plies a firmer touch into the musculature of his back: smaller, now, and bearing more of a burden than before. ]

I like the first one.

[ it can't be helped - her touch, sweet and sharp all at once, elicits an array of shivers and sighs, none of which he tries to hide. There's no point in keeping anything out of an otherwise honest. ]

It fits.

[ he might never call her that but it does fit in the most wonderful of ways. Arguments or not, he does so love her temper. ]

I'd rather fly the spitfire than be it. [ peggy continues to massage her fingertips into his shoulders -- knowing that when it comes to loosening muscles, some ache is necessary. ] Wouldn't that be something. To hop in my very own aeroplane with you sketched on the side of it like a proper pin-up.

[ -- oh no, this will not end well. or, at least, it won't end in propriety. ]

[ for a moment everything is still warm and comfortable, soft and quiet and then - ]

a what?

[ honest to god shock makes way to faux indignation. this day has started with steve tossing a pillow at her general direction. now, he seeks too tip her backwards against them. it takes a bit of strategic thinking and quickness. smaller and lighter but still quick not to mention determined, he pushes and not too gently at all, rising from her lap to throw his weight against her. bringing her down won't be easy but thankfully, once he has a cause, he's thoroughly committed to it. ]

care to repeat that?

[ it's a rather playful question tossed in the middle of their tussle. ]

You heard me. [ she laughs, low and loving. and when he tries to launch himself at her to try and tip the scales, she retaliates by wrapping him up in a firm bear hug. for now, she absorbs his shoving and pushing -- rocking back against him. ] I'd get someone good to paint it. Trousers and boots and not much else.

That's --- terrible. You're terrible.

[ it's a light accusation, no real intent behind it. it's a chaotic mixture of affection, playfulness and no small amount of want. there is no part of him that's disappointed by this turn of events. he's quick, she's quicker, stronger too and there's a certain charm in that. a moment or two of trying to sneak out of her grip with no success lead him to shimmy down, find his place on her lap again.

this tactic failed, there'll be another. ]

One problem. I'm the one of us both who can paint and that's not the pin-up I'll go for.

[ and that's a rather fascinating thought. he shifts back, looks at her, blouse half undone and a few marks left from kisses tainted by lipstick he kissed away from her lips.

it's a pretty image, it sets him in motion. no longer pushing, rather sliding closer to kiss the remaining lipstick off and away.

she was so put-together when she came back, he seems to be very keen on undoing it all, kissing red away from her bottom lip, fingers sliding through her hair, carefully undoing her curls. ]

-- I'll hire someone else. There's never any shortage of starving artists in the world. [ he concedes; he regroups. and peggy doesn't trust this newly brokered peace. she doesn't trust it one bit. ] And for the right price? I know I'll find someone willing to paint you mid push-up. Or mid chin-lift. [ she smiles. ] Or, perhaps, reclining with your head pillowed on your arms.

[ as pleasant as each of these imagined scenarios truly are, she's most keen to learn how each might goad him into action. except the action he takes is slow and sweet and certainly bewitching. her hands flatten against his back and she pulls him deep into the kiss he instigates. ]

Trouble is,

[ he's seeking for holes in this hypothetical situation she's creating, flaws in a rather comical plan. he seemed to have found one, too but a sweet kiss turns into a deeper one. this might have been a time to try again but steve knows that despite the meticulous way he goes about removing the pigment from her lips and the way she holds him, a second attempt will end the same way the first did. she's quick and strong and insistent and steve is already forming another plan altogether. this one is hardly as sudden or as quick, it's slower to build.

He finds his breath, drops a hand to travel down her neck, over her collarbone and between her breasts, undoing a third button. ]

Trouble is, I put 'pictures' on the list but we never really got to that part. Poor fella will have no reference and nothing to work with.

[ his fingers toy with the fabric, he doesn't undo another. he does smile, seems to remember something - ]

But I did buy new pencils and I do have a lot to work with and you're giving me many good ideas.

[ only not for his portrait. being able to draw, being unable to turn away from challenges, he turns this one against her, tosses the ball to her court. ]

[ it is absolutely her intention to kiss away his rebellion -- to steal any attempt to formulate a plan and pin him exquisitely in place against the curve of her body. peggy is certainly beginning to understand the appeal he must find in tussling her back into bed in the mornings. just now, there's something wordlessly tempting about gripping his back and holding him in place.

she pulls at his bottom lip. ]

I don't think you're qualified to paint the nose of my would-be plane. Too biased, too choosy. [ peggy smiles. ] But tell me about your good ideas all the same.

They're not really meant for planes.

[ or, as implied, for anyone else for that matter. there are some things, this moment right here, a half undone blouse and half undone curls that are his and hers and theirs alone. the same holds for those ideas and lord help him, there are many. there is always the initial one, sparked weeks ago, pale skin and dark blue fabric. he never gotten around to putting that on paper but it's etched into his mind, contrasts of colors and textures. ]

Mostly paper.

[ though he hasn't dared, not without her sitting for one. it would have worked better the first time around, before he knew what she felt like, the weight of her in his arms and the taste of her skin. now, he's not entirely unsure she won't be able to sit still long enough, he's more concerned about his own tolerance to simply sitting and watching and focusing on paper when he could instead -

undo a few more buttons, bend to tug her bra aside and whisper a line of kisses across the swell of her breast. he stops just short of her nipple. well, she asked. ]

I still think about that blue one. I think I have the right color somewhere.

[ it was hardly traditionally romantic - at least now he can say there's a roof above their heads but unorthodox and unplanned as it was, it was theirs. steve doesn't lift her blouse off; rather, he coaxes it off her shoulders, moves a hand to rush her hair over one shoulder.

he's creating an image and rather lovingly, at that. ]

[ she shifts in place beneath him -- adjusting how she sits and how he's perched on her lap. only slowly do her arms loosen just enough to let him continue on his journey from her shoulder down past her clavicle and lower, lower, lower -- damn him. he stops, and peggy bites down on her disappointment. it's a hand she doesn't want to show too early or too readily. ]

If you want to stop, [ she kisses just above an eyebrow, ] and draw, [ she gives the top of his spine a lively scrape with her nails. ] Then, by all means, stop and draw.

[ i dare you. ]

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