Maybe if Peggy had stuck to just trying to talk Steve around, her logic would have gone over better. It wasn't that Steve wasn't hearing what she was saying, after all, or that he couldn't see her point, at least on some level. This wasn't how he'd intended for this to go, not in the least, and he did have that vague awareness that he wasn't acting quite like himself. It was just that he was having a very difficult time caring about any of that, considering the way his body was on a hair trigger right now.
Still, she might have succeeded on that first attempt if only she hadn't reached out and touched him. Her hand slid up into his hair, and Steve's eyes fluttered shut, leaning into her touch. It felt amazing, like it was so much more than just a simple caress, and a full-fledged shudder ran through Steve. He readjusted his grip on his towel, and the shift in the material against his skin tore an actual groan from him.
"Peggy," he said, and there was a moan still in his voice. He sounded wrecked, coming more undone by the minute. "Peggy, please, I can't - I need - "
Steve's breathing had gone shallow, and he moved his free hand clumsily from her back up to her cheek. "I'm in control, I'd never hurt you," he babbled. He let his head tip forward so that his forehead pressed against hers and peeked up at her through the curve of his lashes. "I'd be so good, do anything you want me to, Peggy, please." He swallowed, too aware of how hot and wet his mouth felt, his whole body lit up with just the possibility of kissing her.
"S'like I'm on fire," Steve murmured, his thumb shakily stroking along her cheek. "Please, don't - don't send me away, please don't." He was pleading, and he'd probably look back on this moment and hate himself for a number of reasons, but right now he couldn't see past the ache in his gut, the too-tight ball of needy desperation that had him so completely twisted up.