tadity - Last Saturday at 8:43 PM yes, that would be a very nice way to spend such an evening
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:44 PM or, hey, the following week. back to their regularly scheduled r-rated programming
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:44 PM with plenty to make up for since they skipped a week ....also rip suggests it since peggy's hand is only just recovered from her injury wouldn't want her to strain herself
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:46 PM oh yes that's exactly what she wants to hear. and doesn't at all make her want to try something more ambitious.
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:46 PM well. she may want to make the attempt but rip can pin her one hand up and shift his weight just so
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:47 PM omg, devious, using her healing hand against her.
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:47 PM absolutely
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:48 PM -- i mean only then does she properly forgive him for it, of course.
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:48 PM of course. and you know. rip is quite willing to make good use of his fingers as her substitute however many times it takes
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:50 PM oh, well, how very generous and thoughtful of him. so very selfless.
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:50 PM he has his moments one of them happening to be when he's got her pinned to the bed, his hand between her legs, whispering in her ear about how he'll have her coming on his fingers until she can no longer stand it and then perhaps he'll see fit to fuck her.
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:57 PM and as he's wearing her out in wonderful ways with still the promise of more more more to follow then maybe just maybe, between one sinful contortion and another, the fingers on her injured hand -- the one he pins -- don't just grip the bedsheets but also lace with his fingers. tender still-healing but holding tight.
tadity - Last Saturday at 9:01 PM and he notices--naturally, he notices, how she turns to grip him as she writhes and moans, and of all things that one shift in hold is what makes his breath catch. yet he says nothing, for as tight as she clings rip also knows it's fragile; a spell to be unwoven with one wrong word, so instead he holds to her just he same, tells her how he adores having her wet and soaked and shaking against him, locks his mouth against her neck and works his claim into her skin. novelties - Last Saturday at 9:12 PM it's a singular kind of restraint: his body stretched over hers and an arm strapped around her hip - fingers delving, taking, undoing her. his whispers make her skin prickle in dizzying ways. the sound seems to travel through her bones and twist somewhere beneath her stomach. she writhes a retreat - pressing the curve of her body back into his as if her very hips were begging for him to fuck her proper.
the words soon follow - breathless and beautifully pained under the bite of his kiss on her throat: do it, she pleads. and the only softness remaining is in the way the thumb of her injured hand caresses the edge of his palm.
tadity - Last Saturday at 9:20 PM so greedy, he breathes out against her skin, his lips curled into a smile against the redness he's taken the opportunity to suck and bite into her neck. in truth he might not hold out any longer than she; his cock hard, aching with want of her, and the delicious way she pushes back against him only tantalizes further as he rocks his hips in retaliation and promise alike, his length grinding against the curve of her arse.
how many times have you come for me, and still you want more? he wonders if she even knows any longer, if peggy even cares. he pulls his hand away from her folds, but only just; only enough so wet fingers can grip her thigh, tug that leg higher and back until she's all but wrapped around him. yet even as their bodies shift, as he moves to push his cock against her heated, soaked flesh, he still doesn't take her. he wants more than just that pleaded out demand--and the soft touch of her thumb is the very thing that grounds him, that draws the final strand of patience out of him.
say it again. let me hear you.
novelties - Last Saturday at 9:37 PM there's no scrap of eloquence remaining to her. he calls her greedy and he's right to do so - rutting backwards not by tactic or ploy but for the simple sensation of him stiff and waiting behind her.
bliss wars with demand. as much and as often as he's already had her twitching and shivering against his fingers - as much as he's already he composed crescendos out of her moans - she doesn't yet succumb to exhaustion.
her body is obedient when her foot curls like an anchor around his leg. rip has her unfolded and braced against him and when her one free hand gropes behind its only to drag an open palm across his waist as if they gesture might hurry his cock inside her.
i said do it. and for a half-breath it seems as though she might leave her surrender there, half-articulated. but when her hips roll forward and she gets only a suggestion - a tease - of his erection against her heat, peggy quickly (impatiently) revises her plea: fuck me.
tadity - Last Saturday at 9:48 PM the opportunities to strip her down to this have been rare indeed; always between them there has remained some shred of control, of restraint up and until the very end. and yet now he's had her come and come again, drawn each cry of pleasure out and offered the promise of still more until peggy has nothing but her want guiding her words, the needy strains of her body as she seeks out all of him, ego and concerns set aside for this one simple, instinctive demand.
he breathes hot against her neck at the first tease of his cock against her folds; again, when she relents, specifies her desires with words so much an order as they are a plea. he reaches between her legs once more, drags his fingers within her as if he might still keep her waiting, even then. but she's hardly the only one left wanting--rip craves her, to be within her tight walls, and the true goal of his reach is to guide his tip to her waiting opening, to push inside of her with a roll of his hips. now he is the one left shivering as he takes her--but only just. he'll drive himself deep and then hold himself there, indulge a bit of his own greed as he grabs her other hand.
fingers entwine with hers, and rip guides her to touch herself; together now in every sense, and as he thrusts steady, he presses her body forward against their joined hands.
novelties - Last Saturday at 10:04 PM for all the begging she's done for it, one might expect the tight press of his cock should be nothing short of a triumph. but this one slow thrust offers no real satisfaction. instead, some fresh appetite has been set afire.
she gets what she wants and then she wants more. it's the hook and catch and fine print of every wicked tryst: one urge leads to another and it's suddenly not nearly enough to simply feel him hard and hot inside. and the reality is that she knows this feeling. she craves him like she craves adventure - darkly and with a streak of dependence.
a whimper escapes her lips when she realizes the nature of this guided collaboration. her fingers fidget free of his, tracing eager and insistent circles against her clit as if she suspected the steadiness of his thrusts depended on it.
muscles along her abdomen tighten and twitch with the catch of her breath. and peggy, ambitious even as he chips away the layers of her control, matches his thrusts with her own - a saucy roll of her hips and a backwards drive as if she might have designs on stealing his pace away from him.
tadity - Last Saturday at 10:14 PM so very greedy he chides, near breathless himself as she worms her fingers from his hold, rolls her hips not merely in tandem with his but with hints of ambition, matching his pace perhaps only to drive him onward, to have him be the one catching up with her. but they would not have come so far if rip merely relented; indeed, the way they crave each other, the appetites whetted by word and touch and promise are all born of patiences and seeds carefully sewn. the challenge in peggy carter comes in learning to play her strings--and rip has proven himself able, if her want is any indication.
trusting her to keep her fingers from straying too far from where he's set them--and indeed, he will prove her assumptions true should she try--rip instead uses his hand to grab hold of her hip. he'll allow her to thrust, to drive back against him when he pushes forward, to fuck and be fucked all at once. but it will be by his dictate rather than hers. she can come so much as she pleases; he'd quite like to have her shatter upon him once, twice at least. but he means to savor this now, what he has built within her, what he's earned. she'll be fucked at his pace, steady and deep, until rip decides he's ready to shift their song to a new rhythm.
novelties - Last Saturday at 10:28 PM and again his words crest and crash - intimate - against her ear. there's this abriding pleasure in his voice and she could almost smile like a fool for hearing it. but instead she tips her head back so far she's feels the sandpaper of his beard against her cheek. quite apart from the rigors of being fucked by him, there's a stretched-out ache in her body from being bent and pulled against him like wicked scaffolding.
the sudden freedom of her hand surprises her just enough to bring about a pause - a slipped beat - where her fingers stop their dutiful work and instead play idly in her folds while she tries to discern this new difference. a bruising hold on her waist explains it all; her slows her down and chides her for rushing without saying anything. her foiled scheme is expressed sharp and vehement in a curse as she squirms around him - body quivering on the edge of yet another glorious crash.
her fingers take up their cause once more. slick and noisy and intimately familiar with exactly how to rush herself towards climax. if he won't let her outpace his thrusts then she'll outpace him here, rubbing herself to a quick and dirty finish that (much like the others before it) doesn't feel like a finish at all. and she smiles smug as though she's taken something from him, unawares as she convulses and stiffens and shatters that she unwittingly gives him what he wants.
tadity - Last Saturday at 10:43 PM he's learned her well; he knows from her breath, from the small and high sounds she makes that peggy's close even as she sounds out her protest against his hold. and indeed, her walls flutter around him mere moments later, earning her a curse from his lips even as he continues to drive himself into her heat. yet they are not finished; he remains hard and full within her, riding her still even as she comes. his fingers dig into flesh where he holds her, bruisingly tight at her hip, clinging still to her hand pinned above their heads. she may count it a victory, but now rip's desires come to the fore, and he turns his head to nip at her earlobe.
don't stop. harsh words spoken against her skin, rip blindly kissing along the shell of her ear. no, she hasn't taken anything from him at all; a truth peggy herself might now perhaps see as he instructs her, orders without allowance for question. he will not allow her to stop until he is spent and satisfied--until she can no longer thing for how many times she's been broken that night.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:01 PM peggy might have appreciated the ways in which he frays: the buck of his body and the patternless quality to his kisses. a breakdown of order is always always a sure sign of his ascent but she's in no place to notice it now - near jack-knifing, as she is, with one leg hooked stiff and bent backwards around him. her body arches off his only to squirm back in place as his grip demands it.
his instructions, sharply given, get her fingers moving again - crooked and plucking at her clit with a concented touch instead of a broad one. the quiver in her hips is a constant, now, and her shoulders roll restless and impulsive against his chest.
but the next time she comes - gruff and hoarse and saying only his name - she also disobeys him. when her fingers do stop, it's due to instinct and not defiance. slick and wet, they grapple for the flesh of his thigh as though she suddenly needed to steady herself against the relentless onslaught of beinf filled by him. steady and sore and sweet.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:08 PM some would say it's always been a failing of rip hunter: that when he is drawn in, when he commits, he does so fully and in a way utterly unbecoming of a time master. but failing or not, it has happened now once again. he takes and he takes, having given to service his own desires, finding pleasure in hers and how she has been pushed and strained and left breathless. she come again, his name on her lips, and rip knows that all too soon he will no longer be able to resist her, that he will follow after her in that descent until he too succumbs to the sweetness of her body.
he knows she's at her end when she reaches for him. rip could grab her hand, return her to her task, but instead he savors the grip she takes, how her fingers struggle for purchase as wet as they are on his skin. no, it's he who shifts, surrenders control in favor of his own instincts, his breath hot as he all but pants against her in time with each thrust, huffed out exhales punctuating his hips rolling forward, his grip on her bringing her body back.
she's not the only one to speak a name when she shatters; not the only one high and consumed by what they have shared that night.
he doesn't stop; not as he fills her, seed spilling deep within her body as he comes.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:19 PM she isn't sure whether she comes again or whether this isn't somehow still the lingering contractions and dizzying delights of the previous fall - pinging through her nervous system like firework embers, lighting her up and leaving her wrecked. there is a moment, a gap between loud heaving moans, where every inch of her (body; soul; heart) is oriented to him and the momentum driving him into her.
she is consumed in that moment but it hardly feels like defeat . it's leagues away from erasure or loss of self. it's triumphant and vibrant and life-affirming when he comes inside her, riding waves of mutual ecstasy while the whole time she clings to him with her hurt hand. fingers curled adoringly through his - knuckles bumping and wrists nested.
peggy can't remember if she's been shouting but her throat feels dry and ragged. she writhes - squirms, really - as he fucks her through to the very last convulsing pulse seeded inside. and afterwards, her body doesn't fall limp. rather it twists and curls toward him - seeking shelter while they catch their breath together.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:39 PM and in the morning it's back to mister hunter and miss carter and the only pressing question is who fixes the tea and who suffers not having it the way they want
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:39 PM omg well... peggy would very much like to stay in bed for once.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:40 PM ....see and that puts rip in a terrible position because if he doesn't put sugar in her tea, does that mean he's acknowleding too much? because truth be told--he rather does enjoy having her there
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:42 PM you know your relationship is kinda screwy when the question of whether or not you put sugar in your lovers tea is actually the hardest one.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:42 PM LOL yeah pretty much is she hungry? should he summon some of those poptarts she keeps on hand?
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:42 PM uhm yes.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:42 PM granted, he's not got a singing toaster to heat them in.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:43 PM he might be trying to tease her about it but she just nods because dammit she likes pop tarts
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:43 PM ....so poptarts and a toaster then
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:44 PM and informs him that it's okay, she'll eat them untoasted too. (very romantic morning after)
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:44 PM and he just comments that no, they were barely edible heated up
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:45 PM and while ordinarily she would gleefully rise to the occasion this time all she does is flip him the v-sign, roll over, and pull his pillow against her chest while she pretends to ignore him and go back to sleep.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:47 PM well. this is a new side to her, isn't it? and yet as Rip watches her laze, there's a grin on his face. new, but not unwelcome. so he'll be ignored and go about his business, making tea and poptarts and toast for himself, thank you--and somewhere along the way, just on coincidence, begin to hum "God Save the Queen."
completely at random, of course.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:49 PM and silently she kinda enjoys it. the humming, at least, if not the anthem. god she probably stays in bed right up until she's told she can't get pop tart crumbs in it so if she wants her breakfast she'd better get up.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:51 PM okay but what a perfect opportunity to grab his shirt
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:51 PM .....
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:51 PM and tug it on in lieu of getting fully dressed
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:52 PM yep. she's not getting back into her clothes until after she showers. so his shirt will do in the meantime. i was going to say she pulls it on whole he's not looking but i actually think i prefer the thought of him standing there, plates in hand, while she sits up in his bed and very efficiently dons his shirt.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:54 PM and certainly he wouldn't protest it. he would watch, absolutely, transfixed and forgetful of just why he's ushered her up as she puts it on.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:56 PM and! since she's up anyway... she grabs a pop tart off the plate as she walks by to intercede and pour her own tea now that it's brewed.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:58 PM all of which is a perfect reminder that, oh right, he shouldn't just stand there staring. so off to the sitting area he goes.
February 25, 2018 novelties - Last Sunday at 12:00 AM and she follows, tea in one hand while the pop tart, missing one bite, balances on the rim. while the other hand (the healing one) prods gingerly at the marks he's left on her skin just underneath the line of his shirt's collar. - it's an awkward silence.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:02 AM he catches sight of her when he turns, naturally, sees where her hand lies. things haven't gotten quite so awkward for him just yet--after all, of the pair of them, he's likely more used to such mornings after.
still. he nods towards her efforts. nothing too sore, i hope?
novelties - Last Sunday at 12:04 AM and maybe it's just a little too indicative of how very much she's not used to such mornings after when she clings to a thin guard of deflection : do you?
hope, that is.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:08 AM one way or the other, it's not the answer he was expecting. the surprise shows on his face--but perhaps it shouldn't. he's seen those rare moments of vulnerability from peggy a few times now. when he thinks it through, he'll understand that it's in her nature to recoil when she feels exposed.
it does, however, make his answer an easy one.
actually, yes. i rather enjoyed last night. and this morning, those awkward touches aside. he sits on the couch, leaving her the choice of her normal chair or something closer should she choose.
novelties - Last Sunday at 12:13 AM her first inclination is to play the whole thing off as nothing unusual. yes, she stayed longer than anticipated. yes, she's now sinking (rather purposefully) into her chair. but it can't have been all that different from any other spirited wednesday night. except that she still can't recall the exact number of lovely wreckages he'd driven her to, last night. except she can recall clinging to him afterwards and whispering soft affection against his warm skin while they shared their sticky afterglow.
if i'm sore, she allows, then it's not such a terrible sort of sore.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:19 AM duly noted.
she does not yield lightly; rip undestands this about peggy, has nearly from the start of their interactions. she is a woman of expectation and demand, and if one will not yield when she believes they should, then she will stubbornly stand her ground until they do. so that allowance, however small it may seem, stands telling. rip glances down towards his cup of tea (already sugared, naturally), and for a brief moment betrays a faint smile at her admission.
not so terrible is, it would seem, rather good enough.
what isn't, he decides, is his toast as it stands: buttery, yes, but not enough. after a moment he stands up, fetches something from the closet--a small familiar filled with brown spread, a dab of which he starts to spread onto his toast. novelties - Last Sunday at 12:27 AM she isn't all that sore anyway. pleasantly tuckered, rather, despite spending the rest of the night sleeping in a tangle with him. the nearest she comes to sore is a the lingering ache in her muscles - no doubt from being wrapped and stretched across him at such an unconventional angle.
but the question fades away when she watches him get up and go and come back. she nibbles in her pop tart the whole while. and she she recognizes the squat bottle. it's her turn to smile.
your a marmite person.
there are only three kinds of people on the entire universe, she's certain of it. marmite people, vegemite people, and the poor souls who can settle for neither.
learning he's one of the former is like another slippers moment.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:36 AM he hadn't been thinking much of it, of course. only that he's rather hungry this morning--to be expected, given the vigors of the night before. if anything he might argue his hand a touch stiff, but it's a complaint that won't get voiced; for rip, the cost is a minor one indeed given all that had led up to it, more of a pleasant reminder than anything he might call annoying.
but marmite seems just the right thing to add to his toast; salty, familiar, one of so many new discoveries made after he'd been escorted to mary xavier's house. and quintessentially british, which would well explain the way peggy smiles rather than scoffs at the yeasty stuff.
indeed so. evidenced a moment later by the bite he takes of his toast. funny, though--he never would have known of it if not for time travel. assuming he survived past childhood (and rip generally doesn't), he would've been over forty before the first factory opened up.
another way in which he's the truer relic of the two of them, perhaps.
novelties - Last Sunday at 6:30 AM in the time it's taken then both to settle and situate themselves, peggy has all but polished off one whole pop tart. she chases the crumbs down on the plate, dabbing a licked finger help catch every last one. there is (of course) a whole second pastry waiting for her, nudged to the side, but she's in no rush to break it apart and eat it quite as voraciously as the first. instead she focuses on the cuppa -- scooting forward in her chair with a bit of obvious and decadent pandiculation. her arms reach over her head; her back stretches. somewhere deep in her skeleton there's a gratifying little pop. so loosened, she grabs at the mug and seems to down almost half of it in one steady go.
may i? she lifts a finger off the ceramic so as to point out the piece of toast in his hand. she wants a bite -- already greedily eyeing his breakfast even before she finishes hers. but maybe greed is just an excuse to lean further forward until she's nearly touching him with a bare knee.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:33 PM well; by his judgment, something seems to have settled within peggy. perhaps the first pangs of hunger eased, or the way she stretches out have loosed tense nerves. at least to rip's estimation, the silence isn't quite so tense by the point she grabs at her tea; honestly, part of him considers picking up a book, as is his normal morning routine, reading a chapter or two while they sit and eat (and naturally, expecting peggy would perhaps do the same--he's got a number of them floating around the room).
seems she's got her own ideas though. just as he's about to break the stillness she beats him to it, motioning to his toast with a request for a taste. there's a moment of pause, borning of old instincts refreshed thanks to Wonderland's meddling; sharing food had become an unthinkable notion then, but times have changed. he has, to enough degree to recognize his own manner of ridiculousness.
as you'd like. he holds out the bit of toast, while at the same moment eyeing the half of her breakfast that remains. you know, there's plenty of spread left. it might not be so bad on the tart you've got.
weirder things have been mixed together, he's sure.
novelties - Last Sunday at 1:00 PM her nose crinkles in disgust. not over the toast - that she rather enjoys, tearing a bite off and chewing before she can speak. rather she doesn't much like the thought of mingling her new-fangled breakfast food with such a staid old staple.
peggy helps herself to a second (smaller) nibble before she offers back his slice and spread.
don't be ridiculous.
tadity - Last Sunday at 1:04 PM her expression makes clear her opinion on the idea before peggy offers up verbal retort, and equally, gives rip scant seconds to decide just what counter he might offer her critique. a few sips of tea first--he's thirsty as well as hungry--and he glances to peggy with obvious amusement as he protests her point.
i'm not. it's not like i'm suggesting you lather the thing with it. he motions to "the thing" and "it" respectively with a hand upon each mention. just use enough to enhance the flavor of the chocolate. a blend of salty and sweet.
novelties - Last Sunday at 1:38 PM she brushes crumbs off her fingertips. it's gotten harder and harder to resent the cut of his amusement - peggy finds she might chase it on one occasion or another - but she manages to scrounge together a decent scowl for him all the same.
but much like her smiles used to, this scowl doesn't reach her eyes.
you first, then.
and it's her turn to gesture at "the thing" and "it" - nudging her plate and the remaining pop tart in his direction.
tadity - Last Sunday at 1:51 PM oi; i wasn't the one looking to have my breakfast and eat yours too. but it's a mild protest, and much like her scowl not heartfelt in the least. well--mostly. rip does realize that he won't walk away from this challenge victorious: refusing means that peggy's proven her point, and accepting means--well.
eating a poptart with marmite smeared on it.
no, the best he can hope for is to perhaps take her down with him, and to that end rip goes about the process of adorning the aforementioned sweet with the savory spread pulled from the closets. just a touch, naturally, no more than he'd put on his toast, and after meeting peggy's gaze he takes a decent bite, chewing it slowly while considering the taste.
...it really is as bad as he suspected. not inedible, but absolutely not good. yet the key is to not let peggy know that. rather, rip focuses on keeping his expression completely neutral as he chews and swallows, before holding the pastry out to her.
there, see? easily done.
novelties - Last Sunday at 2:29 PM she's hawkish while she watches him. attention pinned and unashamed in how her stare is pure examination. a sentimental stock-taking of his finer qualities can wait for another night (another morning?) when she's still roped warmly in his arms - some moment other than right now.
oh don't go overselling it, mister hunter, she offers dryly. this time she absolutely does change seats - tugging her 'borrowed' shirt down her hips before she relocates to the space beside him on the he sofa. she lifts the pop tart and takes a very conservative - and uncharacteristically delicate - nibble.
followed by a sharp exhale and a curse.
tadity - Last Sunday at 5:18 PM well. there' so complaint offered in how she decides to move, settling now next to him rather than merely waiting for the poptart in question to be passed over. equally, rip enjoys the spare seconds spent watching peggy move about in his shirt, how it frames her figure, and teases the fact that she's been left with nothing underneath.
certainly if they weren't still figuring out their way around each other--and indeed, if last night hadn't been so utterly satisfying--it might be reason enough to tug her down onto his lap.
but instead he takes his turn as observer as she offers wry comment on his appraisal, then takes a bite of her own. problem is, he's left unsure of whether she finds it ghastly or delightful. the last time he heard her curse like that, he's fairly sure it had been when his fingers had still been pressed within her.
surely she can't like it that much.
and your verdict, miss carter?
novelties - Last Sunday at 7:24 PM she slides into the neighbouring space and somehow -- somehow -- manages to piece together a kind of sly grace as she sits with her knees tucked together and her bare heels on the floor but angled just inches beneath the sofa. despite the combination not being a good one, peggy takes another bite as if a second attempt might somehow lend the flavours more nuance. but no: in the end it's just two very different tastes incapable of harmonizing in this particular format. maybe if the marmite had been inside the pastry...
it's a question she doesn't bother to answer. it feels altogether too culinarily ambitious.
peggy shakes her head.
as breakfasts go, it's unimpressive. not the sort of thing worth sticking around for, really.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Feb 21 2018 - NSFW
Feb 21 2018 - NSFW
some alternative less awkward valentine's: https://78.media.tumblr.com/c407b90bcc54926e2f4e7fb92c4599fa/tumblr_p2kzwhbxHK1wfjtqwo1_500.gif
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:43 PM
yes, that would be a very nice way to spend such an evening
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:44 PM
or, hey, the following week. back to their regularly scheduled r-rated programming
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:44 PM
with plenty to make up for
since they skipped a week
....also rip suggests it since peggy's hand is only just recovered from her injury
wouldn't want her to strain herself
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:46 PM
oh yes that's exactly what she wants to hear.
and doesn't at all make her want to try something more ambitious.
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:46 PM
well. she may want to make the attempt
but rip can pin her one hand up and shift his weight just so
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:47 PM
omg, devious, using her healing hand against her.
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:47 PM
absolutely
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:48 PM
-- i mean only then does she properly forgive him for it, of course.
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:48 PM
of course. and you know. rip is quite willing to make good use of his fingers as her substitute
however many times it takes
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:50 PM
oh, well, how very generous and thoughtful of him.
so very selfless.
tadity - Last Saturday at 8:50 PM
he has his moments
one of them happening to be when he's got her pinned to the bed, his hand between her legs, whispering in her ear about how he'll have her coming on his fingers until she can no longer stand it
and then perhaps he'll see fit to fuck her.
novelties - Last Saturday at 8:57 PM
and as he's wearing her out in wonderful ways with still the promise of more more more to follow then maybe just maybe, between one sinful contortion and another, the fingers on her injured hand -- the one he pins -- don't just grip the bedsheets but also lace with his fingers. tender still-healing but holding tight.
tadity - Last Saturday at 9:01 PM
and he notices--naturally, he notices, how she turns to grip him as she writhes and moans, and of all things that one shift in hold is what makes his breath catch. yet he says nothing, for as tight as she clings rip also knows it's fragile; a spell to be unwoven with one wrong word, so instead he holds to her just he same, tells her how he adores having her wet and soaked and shaking against him, locks his mouth against her neck and works his claim into her skin.
novelties - Last Saturday at 9:12 PM
it's a singular kind of restraint: his body stretched over hers and an arm strapped around her hip - fingers delving, taking, undoing her. his whispers make her skin prickle in dizzying ways. the sound seems to travel through her bones and twist somewhere beneath her stomach. she writhes a retreat - pressing the curve of her body back into his as if her very hips were begging for him to fuck her proper.
the words soon follow - breathless and beautifully pained under the bite of his kiss on her throat: do it, she pleads. and the only softness remaining is in the way the thumb of her injured hand caresses the edge of his palm.
tadity - Last Saturday at 9:20 PM
so greedy, he breathes out against her skin, his lips curled into a smile against the redness he's taken the opportunity to suck and bite into her neck. in truth he might not hold out any longer than she; his cock hard, aching with want of her, and the delicious way she pushes back against him only tantalizes further as he rocks his hips in retaliation and promise alike, his length grinding against the curve of her arse.
how many times have you come for me, and still you want more? he wonders if she even knows any longer, if peggy even cares. he pulls his hand away from her folds, but only just; only enough so wet fingers can grip her thigh, tug that leg higher and back until she's all but wrapped around him. yet even as their bodies shift, as he moves to push his cock against her heated, soaked flesh, he still doesn't take her. he wants more than just that pleaded out demand--and the soft touch of her thumb is the very thing that grounds him, that draws the final strand of patience out of him.
say it again. let me hear you.
novelties - Last Saturday at 9:37 PM
there's no scrap of eloquence remaining to her. he calls her greedy and he's right to do so - rutting backwards not by tactic or ploy but for the simple sensation of him stiff and waiting behind her.
bliss wars with demand. as much and as often as he's already had her twitching and shivering against his fingers - as much as he's already he composed crescendos out of her moans - she doesn't yet succumb to exhaustion.
her body is obedient when her foot curls like an anchor around his leg. rip has her unfolded and braced against him and when her one free hand gropes behind its only to drag an open palm across his waist as if they gesture might hurry his cock inside her.
i said do it. and for a half-breath it seems as though she might leave her surrender there, half-articulated. but when her hips roll forward and she gets only a suggestion - a tease - of his erection against her heat, peggy quickly (impatiently) revises her plea: fuck me.
tadity - Last Saturday at 9:48 PM
the opportunities to strip her down to this have been rare indeed; always between them there has remained some shred of control, of restraint up and until the very end. and yet now he's had her come and come again, drawn each cry of pleasure out and offered the promise of still more until peggy has nothing but her want guiding her words, the needy strains of her body as she seeks out all of him, ego and concerns set aside for this one simple, instinctive demand.
he breathes hot against her neck at the first tease of his cock against her folds; again, when she relents, specifies her desires with words so much an order as they are a plea. he reaches between her legs once more, drags his fingers within her as if he might still keep her waiting, even then. but she's hardly the only one left wanting--rip craves her, to be within her tight walls, and the true goal of his reach is to guide his tip to her waiting opening, to push inside of her with a roll of his hips. now he is the one left shivering as he takes her--but only just. he'll drive himself deep and then hold himself there, indulge a bit of his own greed as he grabs her other hand.
fingers entwine with hers, and rip guides her to touch herself; together now in every sense, and as he thrusts steady, he presses her body forward against their joined hands.
novelties - Last Saturday at 10:04 PM
for all the begging she's done for it, one might expect the tight press of his cock should be nothing short of a triumph. but this one slow thrust offers no real satisfaction. instead, some fresh appetite has been set afire.
she gets what she wants and then she wants more. it's the hook and catch and fine print of every wicked tryst: one urge leads to another and it's suddenly not nearly enough to simply feel him hard and hot inside. and the reality is that she knows this feeling. she craves him like she craves adventure - darkly and with a streak of dependence.
a whimper escapes her lips when she realizes the nature of this guided collaboration. her fingers fidget free of his, tracing eager and insistent circles against her clit as if she suspected the steadiness of his thrusts depended on it.
muscles along her abdomen tighten and twitch with the catch of her breath. and peggy, ambitious even as he chips away the layers of her control, matches his thrusts with her own - a saucy roll of her hips and a backwards drive as if she might have designs on stealing his pace away from him.
tadity - Last Saturday at 10:14 PM
so very greedy he chides, near breathless himself as she worms her fingers from his hold, rolls her hips not merely in tandem with his but with hints of ambition, matching his pace perhaps only to drive him onward, to have him be the one catching up with her. but they would not have come so far if rip merely relented; indeed, the way they crave each other, the appetites whetted by word and touch and promise are all born of patiences and seeds carefully sewn. the challenge in peggy carter comes in learning to play her strings--and rip has proven himself able, if her want is any indication.
trusting her to keep her fingers from straying too far from where he's set them--and indeed, he will prove her assumptions true should she try--rip instead uses his hand to grab hold of her hip. he'll allow her to thrust, to drive back against him when he pushes forward, to fuck and be fucked all at once. but it will be by his dictate rather than hers. she can come so much as she pleases; he'd quite like to have her shatter upon him once, twice at least. but he means to savor this now, what he has built within her, what he's earned. she'll be fucked at his pace, steady and deep, until rip decides he's ready to shift their song to a new rhythm.
novelties - Last Saturday at 10:28 PM
and again his words crest and crash - intimate - against her ear. there's this abriding pleasure in his voice and she could almost smile like a fool for hearing it. but instead she tips her head back so far she's feels the sandpaper of his beard against her cheek. quite apart from the rigors of being fucked by him, there's a stretched-out ache in her body from being bent and pulled against him like wicked scaffolding.
the sudden freedom of her hand surprises her just enough to bring about a pause - a slipped beat - where her fingers stop their dutiful work and instead play idly in her folds while she tries to discern this new difference. a bruising hold on her waist explains it all; her slows her down and chides her for rushing without saying anything. her foiled scheme is expressed sharp and vehement in a curse as she squirms around him - body quivering on the edge of yet another glorious crash.
her fingers take up their cause once more. slick and noisy and intimately familiar with exactly how to rush herself towards climax. if he won't let her outpace his thrusts then she'll outpace him here, rubbing herself to a quick and dirty finish that (much like the others before it) doesn't feel like a finish at all. and she smiles smug as though she's taken something from him, unawares as she convulses and stiffens and shatters that she unwittingly gives him what he wants.
tadity - Last Saturday at 10:43 PM
he's learned her well; he knows from her breath, from the small and high sounds she makes that peggy's close even as she sounds out her protest against his hold. and indeed, her walls flutter around him mere moments later, earning her a curse from his lips even as he continues to drive himself into her heat. yet they are not finished; he remains hard and full within her, riding her still even as she comes. his fingers dig into flesh where he holds her, bruisingly tight at her hip, clinging still to her hand pinned above their heads. she may count it a victory, but now rip's desires come to the fore, and he turns his head to nip at her earlobe.
don't stop. harsh words spoken against her skin, rip blindly kissing along the shell of her ear. no, she hasn't taken anything from him at all; a truth peggy herself might now perhaps see as he instructs her, orders without allowance for question. he will not allow her to stop until he is spent and satisfied--until she can no longer thing for how many times she's been broken that night.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:01 PM
peggy might have appreciated the ways in which he frays: the buck of his body and the patternless quality to his kisses. a breakdown of order is always always a sure sign of his ascent but she's in no place to notice it now - near jack-knifing, as she is, with one leg hooked stiff and bent backwards around him. her body arches off his only to squirm back in place as his grip demands it.
his instructions, sharply given, get her fingers moving again - crooked and plucking at her clit with a concented touch instead of a broad one. the quiver in her hips is a constant, now, and her shoulders roll restless and impulsive against his chest.
but the next time she comes - gruff and hoarse and saying only his name - she also disobeys him. when her fingers do stop, it's due to instinct and not defiance. slick and wet, they grapple for the flesh of his thigh as though she suddenly needed to steady herself against the relentless onslaught of beinf filled by him. steady and sore and sweet.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:08 PM
some would say it's always been a failing of rip hunter: that when he is drawn in, when he commits, he does so fully and in a way utterly unbecoming of a time master. but failing or not, it has happened now once again. he takes and he takes, having given to service his own desires, finding pleasure in hers and how she has been pushed and strained and left breathless. she come again, his name on her lips, and rip knows that all too soon he will no longer be able to resist her, that he will follow after her in that descent until he too succumbs to the sweetness of her body.
he knows she's at her end when she reaches for him. rip could grab her hand, return her to her task, but instead he savors the grip she takes, how her fingers struggle for purchase as wet as they are on his skin. no, it's he who shifts, surrenders control in favor of his own instincts, his breath hot as he all but pants against her in time with each thrust, huffed out exhales punctuating his hips rolling forward, his grip on her bringing her body back.
she's not the only one to speak a name when she shatters; not the only one high and consumed by what they have shared that night.
he doesn't stop; not as he fills her, seed spilling deep within her body as he comes.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:19 PM
she isn't sure whether she comes again or whether this isn't somehow still the lingering contractions and dizzying delights of the previous fall - pinging through her nervous system like firework embers, lighting her up and leaving her wrecked. there is a moment, a gap between loud heaving moans, where every inch of her (body; soul; heart) is oriented to him and the momentum driving him into her.
she is consumed in that moment but it hardly feels like defeat . it's leagues away from erasure or loss of self. it's triumphant and vibrant and life-affirming when he comes inside her, riding waves of mutual ecstasy while the whole time she clings to him with her hurt hand. fingers curled adoringly through his - knuckles bumping and wrists nested.
peggy can't remember if she's been shouting but her throat feels dry and ragged. she writhes - squirms, really - as he fucks her through to the very last convulsing pulse seeded inside. and afterwards, her body doesn't fall limp. rather it twists and curls toward him - seeking shelter while they catch their breath together.
Feb 22 2018 - NSFW
and in the morning it's back to mister hunter and miss carter
and the only pressing question is who fixes the tea and who suffers not having it the way they want
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:39 PM
omg well...
peggy would very much like to stay in bed for once.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:40 PM
....see and that puts rip in a terrible position
because if he doesn't put sugar in her tea, does that mean he's acknowleding too much?
because truth be told--he rather does enjoy having her there
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:42 PM
you know your relationship is kinda screwy when the question of whether or not you put sugar in your lovers tea is actually the hardest one.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:42 PM
LOL yeah pretty much
is she hungry? should he summon some of those poptarts she keeps on hand?
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:42 PM
uhm yes.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:42 PM
granted, he's not got a singing toaster to heat them in.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:43 PM
he might be trying to tease her about it but she just nods because dammit she likes pop tarts
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:43 PM
....so poptarts and a toaster then
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:44 PM
and informs him that it's okay, she'll eat them untoasted too.
(very romantic morning after)
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:44 PM
and he just comments that no, they were barely edible heated up
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:45 PM
and while ordinarily she would gleefully rise to the occasion this time all she does is flip him the v-sign, roll over, and pull his pillow against her chest while she pretends to ignore him and go back to sleep.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:47 PM
well. this is a new side to her, isn't it? and yet as Rip watches her laze, there's a grin on his face. new, but not unwelcome. so he'll be ignored and go about his business, making tea and poptarts and toast for himself, thank you--and somewhere along the way, just on coincidence, begin to hum "God Save the Queen."
completely at random, of course.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:49 PM
and silently she kinda enjoys it. the humming, at least, if not the anthem.
god she probably stays in bed right up until she's told she can't get pop tart crumbs in it so if she wants her breakfast she'd better get up.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:51 PM
okay but
what a perfect opportunity to grab his shirt
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:51 PM
.....
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:51 PM
and tug it on in lieu of getting fully dressed
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:52 PM
yep.
she's not getting back into her clothes until after she showers. so his shirt will do in the meantime.
i was going to say she pulls it on whole he's not looking but i actually think i prefer the thought of him standing there, plates in hand, while she sits up in his bed and very efficiently dons his shirt.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:54 PM
and certainly he wouldn't protest it. he would watch, absolutely, transfixed and forgetful of just why he's ushered her up as she puts it on.
novelties - Last Saturday at 11:56 PM
and! since she's up anyway...
she grabs a pop tart off the plate as she walks by to intercede and pour her own tea now that it's brewed.
tadity - Last Saturday at 11:58 PM
all of which is a perfect reminder that, oh right, he shouldn't just stand there staring. so off to the sitting area he goes.
February 25, 2018
novelties - Last Sunday at 12:00 AM
and she follows, tea in one hand while the pop tart, missing one bite, balances on the rim. while the other hand (the healing one) prods gingerly at the marks he's left on her skin just underneath the line of his shirt's collar.
- it's an awkward silence.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:02 AM
he catches sight of her when he turns, naturally, sees where her hand lies. things haven't gotten quite so awkward for him just yet--after all, of the pair of them, he's likely more used to such mornings after.
still. he nods towards her efforts. nothing too sore, i hope?
novelties - Last Sunday at 12:04 AM
and maybe it's just a little too indicative of how very much she's not used to such mornings after when she clings to a thin guard of deflection : do you?
hope, that is.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:08 AM
one way or the other, it's not the answer he was expecting. the surprise shows on his face--but perhaps it shouldn't. he's seen those rare moments of vulnerability from peggy a few times now. when he thinks it through, he'll understand that it's in her nature to recoil when she feels exposed.
it does, however, make his answer an easy one.
actually, yes. i rather enjoyed last night. and this morning, those awkward touches aside. he sits on the couch, leaving her the choice of her normal chair or something closer should she choose.
novelties - Last Sunday at 12:13 AM
her first inclination is to play the whole thing off as nothing unusual. yes, she stayed longer than anticipated. yes, she's now sinking (rather purposefully) into her chair. but it can't have been all that different from any other spirited wednesday night. except that she still can't recall the exact number of lovely wreckages he'd driven her to, last night. except she can recall clinging to him afterwards and whispering soft affection against his warm skin while they shared their sticky afterglow.
if i'm sore, she allows, then it's not such a terrible sort of sore.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:19 AM
duly noted.
she does not yield lightly; rip undestands this about peggy, has nearly from the start of their interactions. she is a woman of expectation and demand, and if one will not yield when she believes they should, then she will stubbornly stand her ground until they do. so that allowance, however small it may seem, stands telling. rip glances down towards his cup of tea (already sugared, naturally), and for a brief moment betrays a faint smile at her admission.
not so terrible is, it would seem, rather good enough.
what isn't, he decides, is his toast as it stands: buttery, yes, but not enough. after a moment he stands up, fetches something from the closet--a small familiar filled with brown spread, a dab of which he starts to spread onto his toast.
novelties - Last Sunday at 12:27 AM
she isn't all that sore anyway. pleasantly tuckered, rather, despite spending the rest of the night sleeping in a tangle with him. the nearest she comes to sore is a the lingering ache in her muscles - no doubt from being wrapped and stretched across him at such an unconventional angle.
but the question fades away when she watches him get up and go and come back. she nibbles in her pop tart the whole while. and she she recognizes the squat bottle. it's her turn to smile.
your a marmite person.
there are only three kinds of people on the entire universe, she's certain of it. marmite people, vegemite people, and the poor souls who can settle for neither.
learning he's one of the former is like another slippers moment.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:36 AM
he hadn't been thinking much of it, of course. only that he's rather hungry this morning--to be expected, given the vigors of the night before. if anything he might argue his hand a touch stiff, but it's a complaint that won't get voiced; for rip, the cost is a minor one indeed given all that had led up to it, more of a pleasant reminder than anything he might call annoying.
but marmite seems just the right thing to add to his toast; salty, familiar, one of so many new discoveries made after he'd been escorted to mary xavier's house. and quintessentially british, which would well explain the way peggy smiles rather than scoffs at the yeasty stuff.
indeed so. evidenced a moment later by the bite he takes of his toast. funny, though--he never would have known of it if not for time travel. assuming he survived past childhood (and rip generally doesn't), he would've been over forty before the first factory opened up.
another way in which he's the truer relic of the two of them, perhaps.
novelties - Last Sunday at 6:30 AM
in the time it's taken then both to settle and situate themselves, peggy has all but polished off one whole pop tart. she chases the crumbs down on the plate, dabbing a licked finger help catch every last one. there is (of course) a whole second pastry waiting for her, nudged to the side, but she's in no rush to break it apart and eat it quite as voraciously as the first. instead she focuses on the cuppa -- scooting forward in her chair with a bit of obvious and decadent pandiculation. her arms reach over her head; her back stretches. somewhere deep in her skeleton there's a gratifying little pop. so loosened, she grabs at the mug and seems to down almost half of it in one steady go.
may i? she lifts a finger off the ceramic so as to point out the piece of toast in his hand. she wants a bite -- already greedily eyeing his breakfast even before she finishes hers. but maybe greed is just an excuse to lean further forward until she's nearly touching him with a bare knee.
tadity - Last Sunday at 12:33 PM
well; by his judgment, something seems to have settled within peggy. perhaps the first pangs of hunger eased, or the way she stretches out have loosed tense nerves. at least to rip's estimation, the silence isn't quite so tense by the point she grabs at her tea; honestly, part of him considers picking up a book, as is his normal morning routine, reading a chapter or two while they sit and eat (and naturally, expecting peggy would perhaps do the same--he's got a number of them floating around the room).
seems she's got her own ideas though. just as he's about to break the stillness she beats him to it, motioning to his toast with a request for a taste. there's a moment of pause, borning of old instincts refreshed thanks to Wonderland's meddling; sharing food had become an unthinkable notion then, but times have changed. he has, to enough degree to recognize his own manner of ridiculousness.
as you'd like. he holds out the bit of toast, while at the same moment eyeing the half of her breakfast that remains. you know, there's plenty of spread left. it might not be so bad on the tart you've got.
weirder things have been mixed together, he's sure.
novelties - Last Sunday at 1:00 PM
her nose crinkles in disgust. not over the toast - that she rather enjoys, tearing a bite off and chewing before she can speak. rather she doesn't much like the thought of mingling her new-fangled breakfast food with such a staid old staple.
peggy helps herself to a second (smaller) nibble before she offers back his slice and spread.
don't be ridiculous.
tadity - Last Sunday at 1:04 PM
her expression makes clear her opinion on the idea before peggy offers up verbal retort, and equally, gives rip scant seconds to decide just what counter he might offer her critique. a few sips of tea first--he's thirsty as well as hungry--and he glances to peggy with obvious amusement as he protests her point.
i'm not. it's not like i'm suggesting you lather the thing with it. he motions to "the thing" and "it" respectively with a hand upon each mention. just use enough to enhance the flavor of the chocolate. a blend of salty and sweet.
novelties - Last Sunday at 1:38 PM
she brushes crumbs off her fingertips. it's gotten harder and harder to resent the cut of his amusement - peggy finds she might chase it on one occasion or another - but she manages to scrounge together a decent scowl for him all the same.
but much like her smiles used to, this scowl doesn't reach her eyes.
you first, then.
and it's her turn to gesture at "the thing" and "it" - nudging her plate and the remaining pop tart in his direction.
tadity - Last Sunday at 1:51 PM
oi; i wasn't the one looking to have my breakfast and eat yours too. but it's a mild protest, and much like her scowl not heartfelt in the least. well--mostly. rip does realize that he won't walk away from this challenge victorious: refusing means that peggy's proven her point, and accepting means--well.
eating a poptart with marmite smeared on it.
no, the best he can hope for is to perhaps take her down with him, and to that end rip goes about the process of adorning the aforementioned sweet with the savory spread pulled from the closets. just a touch, naturally, no more than he'd put on his toast, and after meeting peggy's gaze he takes a decent bite, chewing it slowly while considering the taste.
...it really is as bad as he suspected. not inedible, but absolutely not good. yet the key is to not let peggy know that. rather, rip focuses on keeping his expression completely neutral as he chews and swallows, before holding the pastry out to her.
there, see? easily done.
novelties - Last Sunday at 2:29 PM
she's hawkish while she watches him. attention pinned and unashamed in how her stare is pure examination. a sentimental stock-taking of his finer qualities can wait for another night (another morning?) when she's still roped warmly in his arms - some moment other than right now.
oh don't go overselling it, mister hunter, she offers dryly. this time she absolutely does change seats - tugging her 'borrowed' shirt down her hips before she relocates to the space beside him on the he sofa. she lifts the pop tart and takes a very conservative - and uncharacteristically delicate - nibble.
followed by a sharp exhale and a curse.
tadity - Last Sunday at 5:18 PM
well. there' so complaint offered in how she decides to move, settling now next to him rather than merely waiting for the poptart in question to be passed over. equally, rip enjoys the spare seconds spent watching peggy move about in his shirt, how it frames her figure, and teases the fact that she's been left with nothing underneath.
certainly if they weren't still figuring out their way around each other--and indeed, if last night hadn't been so utterly satisfying--it might be reason enough to tug her down onto his lap.
but instead he takes his turn as observer as she offers wry comment on his appraisal, then takes a bite of her own. problem is, he's left unsure of whether she finds it ghastly or delightful. the last time he heard her curse like that, he's fairly sure it had been when his fingers had still been pressed within her.
surely she can't like it that much.
and your verdict, miss carter?
novelties - Last Sunday at 7:24 PM
she slides into the neighbouring space and somehow -- somehow -- manages to piece together a kind of sly grace as she sits with her knees tucked together and her bare heels on the floor but angled just inches beneath the sofa. despite the combination not being a good one, peggy takes another bite as if a second attempt might somehow lend the flavours more nuance. but no: in the end it's just two very different tastes incapable of harmonizing in this particular format. maybe if the marmite had been inside the pastry...
it's a question she doesn't bother to answer. it feels altogether too culinarily ambitious.
peggy shakes her head.
as breakfasts go, it's unimpressive. not the sort of thing worth sticking around for, really.
but here she is. sticking around.