[He would have cursed had his mouth not been so occupied; as it is, she'll only have his shudder, the sudden way he sucks in a breath to answer her siren's call. I never stopped craving you, a confession honest and earnest, the simply spoken truth of her want of him, his body and his touch, his presence in her circle. Peggy Carter doesn't let her walls down easily; the first time they kissed, truly kissed, had come on the heels of an argument, as her proof that perhaps their connection would be better broken than indulged any longer. And just as she goes on to proclaim her irritation with warmth beyond pleasure in her voice, that night Rip had refused to merely let her be once she showed up on his doorstep.
He'd been drunk on rum by the time she had; his high this night finds it's source in a completely different creature.
He uses their hands for leverage. He cannot grip her thighs, but he can lean on his forearms, hold to her still even as he chuckles in quiet reply. When his head turns his lips this time find skin; he kisses her thigh, merely a peck, before offering confirmation and warning both.]
You've no idea how frustrating I can be. [But tonight, perhaps, he'd begin to show her. Fingers intertwined might not be the most effective restraint, but they are a perfect one for this moment. He nips her thigh once more before pressing his mouth to her knickers; this time the press of his tongue is firmer, dulled by the cloth and yet determined all the same to delve within her, to lick and kiss and taste her until that craving becomes a far less controlled thing--until her frustrations mount, and she's left helpless by her own need.]
no subject
He'd been drunk on rum by the time she had; his high this night finds it's source in a completely different creature.
He uses their hands for leverage. He cannot grip her thighs, but he can lean on his forearms, hold to her still even as he chuckles in quiet reply. When his head turns his lips this time find skin; he kisses her thigh, merely a peck, before offering confirmation and warning both.]
You've no idea how frustrating I can be. [But tonight, perhaps, he'd begin to show her. Fingers intertwined might not be the most effective restraint, but they are a perfect one for this moment. He nips her thigh once more before pressing his mouth to her knickers; this time the press of his tongue is firmer, dulled by the cloth and yet determined all the same to delve within her, to lick and kiss and taste her until that craving becomes a far less controlled thing--until her frustrations mount, and she's left helpless by her own need.]