[ once again, he says. funny how that keeps happening. there aren't many in this world or in her own with whom peggy finds herself so broadly agreeable. it's not as though she and rip haven't got their differences, certainly, any likely many more as yet undiscovered. but they negotiate those conflicts altogether too similarly stay at odds for long, even when a peace isn't found. but this time -- on this topic -- their agreement is true and ironclad. and later she might wonder whether it isn't a kind of honeymoon effect making two unreasonable souls suddenly reasonable in pursuit of this: hands on curves and fingers sliding a belt free of its loops.
it's removed quick and discarded quicker. his belt adds to the clutter across his bedroom floor, a trail of hints and intentions starting over by their chairs and meandering to the bed.
peggy stretches above him -- grabbing for the bed's frame with her palm flat against the headboard. her fingers curl around its edge. the same preparatory spirit is alive and well in this gesture, and it's that braced posture that protects her balance while she frees him from his clothing. she's far too impatient to fuss beyond undoing a zipper and a rifling through his skivvies, but the end result is much the same once she has his cock in hand.
what happened earlier, her with her back against his wall, was something curated and directed by rip. and so there is a note of benevolent vengeance at play when she asserts this current direction as her own -- albeit one that is by all accounts both fiercely and mutually desired. she leads this dance when she leaves his words unanswered. why hesitate? she's leaps beyond any desire to gawk and fawn; every urge roiling in her blood points towards a desire to feel him, and properly.
with a sharp inhale, peggy guides him inside. her grip tightens against the outside of his chest -- digging between muscle and rib. she waits a moment, breath short, before rolling her hips forward. the room's lighting stays low and she casts a shadow riding above him, but even so she searches out his eyes once they're joined.
she craves that contact -- gaze to gaze -- nearly as heatedly as she craves the rest of him. ]
no subject
it's removed quick and discarded quicker. his belt adds to the clutter across his bedroom floor, a trail of hints and intentions starting over by their chairs and meandering to the bed.
peggy stretches above him -- grabbing for the bed's frame with her palm flat against the headboard. her fingers curl around its edge. the same preparatory spirit is alive and well in this gesture, and it's that braced posture that protects her balance while she frees him from his clothing. she's far too impatient to fuss beyond undoing a zipper and a rifling through his skivvies, but the end result is much the same once she has his cock in hand.
what happened earlier, her with her back against his wall, was something curated and directed by rip. and so there is a note of benevolent vengeance at play when she asserts this current direction as her own -- albeit one that is by all accounts both fiercely and mutually desired. she leads this dance when she leaves his words unanswered. why hesitate? she's leaps beyond any desire to gawk and fawn; every urge roiling in her blood points towards a desire to feel him, and properly.
with a sharp inhale, peggy guides him inside. her grip tightens against the outside of his chest -- digging between muscle and rib. she waits a moment, breath short, before rolling her hips forward. the room's lighting stays low and she casts a shadow riding above him, but even so she searches out his eyes once they're joined.
she craves that contact -- gaze to gaze -- nearly as heatedly as she craves the rest of him. ]