Re: Log, Marvel: Peggy C & Steve R
Peggy barely paid attention to the bed. Another time (five minutes ago) she would have been more interested in the surroundings, in what Steve chose to have in his space when he had the choice, but not right now. Now she didn't have time for that. Steve always had an effect, a physical effect, whenever he was present, and by the time the war was over she had been mortally tired of pretending it wasn't happening when they were in the presence of twenty other men who might die the following morning. Peggy was just about to be gloriously selfish and have him all to herself, and there was absolutely no plans to feel sorry for it.
She finally got the tie free, though it cost her both hands and all ten fingers to work it out of the knot she managed to tighten around his neck. This was not Peggy's first time undressing a man, and fleetingly she thought if it was Steve's first time she should be slower about it--and then the thought went right out of her head as the bed creaked, a sound that sent shivers all up her back and shoulders. His hands were surprisingly gentle, a kind torture that made her sigh and sizzle against his lips, the curl toughened tips of her hair drawing trails on his chest as she took the buttons of his shirt apart and left lipstick trails down the revealed skin.
After the shirt was split in two and out of her way, she stretched up on his lap, thighs tightening, and pulled off the gray shirt, arms crossed and red nails a dull flash on the soft gray. Under, she had black lace and a great deal of beckoning flesh. Peggy was aware of her best attributes, and took care to dress them up when the opportunity presented.