driftfleet | April System Mingle

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. ]

Later.

[ that's exactly the word he used last time, too. he's terribly aware of that, it's becoming a rather fascinating pattern to follow. perhaps tonight he could really see it through, though even he is doubtful.

two things happen at the same time. steve, entirely unable to keep anything from her for too long, finds his way back to her breast and just then, he feels the bite of her nails and seems to realize that here, now, like this, she could leave marks. it pulls something from him, a swear, low and breathless ( christ ) against her skin before sealing a kiss against her nipple. ]

[ it pulls a breath straight from the back of her throat -- a whispery ahh that curls into a whimper for its last note when the sensation registers, nipple puckering under steve's mouth. peggy's nails do indeed leave a mark when they tighten: little crescent-moon dents with reddened edges. ]

Later, [ she echoes. ] Always later.

[ and here is when his plan comes into work. Some things one could trick out of another, some things can be achieved by a playful tussle but sometimes one simply has to make certain the mood is right and ask nicely.

A schoolyard sort of lesson but it's worth a shot. He builds up to it, kisses making way to a happy sigh when skin tightens beneath his tongue, fingers already tugging at the other cup of her bra, all the easier when he shifts his kisses to the left. ]

Peggy.

[ it's sweet, polite and coaxing, reserved for asking for a particular favor. ]

Lean back.

[ she hears the honey in his voice and almost resists caving. her grip tightens on him -- proto-protest -- but then a rush of feeling squirms its way through her body as all the attention he lavishes with his mouth gains ground; nudges her into obeisance.

she offers a brief grunt of allowance, if not outright agreement, while easing her shoulders back against their heaped pillows. it's a funny little scene transpiring in the blanket fort. ]

-- You're scheming.

Am I?

[ ah, good manners do bring some results. He can see her properly now and the sight elicits a little groan. He could have drawn her like this, in this messy state, could have leaned back and strike an item off his list. But why do that when he can lean down and offer another slow, indulgent lick to her nipple, his thumb quickly finding the other, a slight tug and a loving caress. ]

Only a bit.

[ -- it's the tug that snags her breath next. the sound twists sharply into a whimper she doesn't manage to stifle. either their exploits this morning before their row had stuck with her, keeping her blood running hot, or else there is some intrinsic delight in fooling around with steve precisely as he is right now, or (as a third possibility) she's hungry to make her peace with him. whatever the reason, there feels to be an extra electricity in the air.

peggy's fingers float down to his hips where they dig in just as enthusiastically as they had at his nape. ]

Even now, [ she pauses for a trembling breath, ] you're a Godawful liar.

Especially now.

[ he corrects her, a little smile pressed to her breast. By right, he shouldn't even be trying at the moment. His chances of any lie are slim to none.

When he moves, it's back towards her lips; he lets a little moan go lost between them, hips shifting beneath her fingertips ]

[ a kiss is welcome. she tugs her way into it -- greedy with his mouth when she gives his lower lip a scrape of teeth. truth is, peggy's grown accustomed to trading in a certain sort of roughness with steve. she's remained tender enough, certainly, but even tenderness can take on a hard edge when one's lover can withstand a great deal. and yet she doesn't quite dial back that heavy-handed affection even now that the glitch has him in its grip.

whatever his scheme, whatever his end-goal, she seems to welcome it. peggy's far more intent on kissing him silly. ]

[ it still catches him by surprise. maybe because a small part of him thought that some things are bound to change when the glitch hit home and this, the sharper edges of her love was somewhere on that list. but there's a bite of nails and a scrap of teeth and those are enough to prove his assumption was a mistake. this here seems like one of the only times steve likes being wrong. he's never been vocal about how those little moments slip beneath his skin, igniting nerve-ends in their wake.

tentative, he barters favor for favor, nips his way into another kiss, breath caught at the back of his throat, slipping out as a little hiss.

the fascinating thing is that for a moment, he can't remember anything save for this physical exchange, lips slotted together and his hand against her breast. ]

[ the measurable difference in his reaction is intoxicating. for one, the threshhold for when he reacts audibly to a bit of bite or scratch is delightfully low. peggy plies that a little further, nudging his kisses aside so she can instead plant a sucking kiss against the side of his neck.

it might not occur to him quickly, perhaps, but peggy intends for her mouth to leave a bruise. a memento, of sorts.

somewhere, not far off, the scent of brewed white tea mingles with her other senses; after today, she doubts she'll ever be able to divorce white tea from this heady sensation of power and pleasure. ]

[ only a few moments ago, she had granted his request and leaned back and steve thought that he had this entanglement under some measure of control. in retrospect, it all seems silly, imaginative, even. clever and sharp, she seems to uncover his buttons and proceeds to push every single one.

It takes a moment or two for him to realize this isn't an ordinary sharp kiss. She lingers, her lips sealed on his skin and then it clicks. She's leaving her mark and now, ordinary as he is, that mark is going to stay. It'll be there tomorrow, it'll be there for days . It does something, a whole other kind of adrenaline rush; a shiver, a helpless, riveted gaze and a moan shaped like her name.

He's still, however; careful not to move and disrupt this.

He finds his voice after a moment. ]

I hope those shirts you've bought have high collars.

[ -- she pauses in her ministrations to lean back, fingers braced firmly against him, and meets his eyes with a wicked glint inside. ]

Not a one, I'm afraid. [ but she brooks no more protest before returning to her mission. peggy scrapes her teeth against his skin before applying yet another damp, sucking kiss. she rather likes the thought of him being stuck marked and claimed -- doubly so, perhaps, when he's glitched and looking so much like the steve rogers who once denied any romantic attention from anyone.

well, she thinks, let the locals marvel at hard evidence to the contrary. ]

[ his eyes almost, almost close in an effort to keep still. He drops his hands to her hips, focuses his attention on gripping her to keep his thighs from shaking or else bucking against her. He could supposedly invest in a scarf only at the moment he doesn't want to. ]

Bad spot.

[ not because it's public, not because it openly tells an intimate tale. ]

Can't see.

[ not without a mirror and perhaps that's the true pity. ]

[ her laughter is muffled against his neck. whatever she might have expected, it wasn't that. but steve's always been more prepared to wear his affections in the open than herself. so she rewards his attitude with a lighter, sweeter glance of tongue across his skin.

as much as she'd love to answer him -- tease him, maybe -- she won't have her work undone by another distraction. the suction on his neck turns sharper, she teases him between her front teeth. a dash of pain, perhaps, but only as a down payment for further pleasure. ]

[ this time he does move. Her kiss turns sharpsharp and he shifts his hips a bit in search of something ( relief, friction, both ).

His cheeks are red, his breath is hitched. He pulls and tugs at her bra until he can ( finally ) drag it off of her. The moment he fully cups her breasts is the moment he affirms, confesses. ]

That's good.

[ eventually, long after the hickey's been established as a dotted red welt on his skin, she loosens her grip with a wet pop. and in the aftermath, a quiet whimper leaves her lips -- one she'd been holding back since he'd managed to dispense with her bra. ]

There are advantages to feeling a bit of hurt, I suspect. [ she tells him plainly before pressing a much gentler kiss to the same place. ]

April System Mingle

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