"Oh, yeah, I know." Blushing has been one of the banes of his existence up till now, a major part of every single failed date he's had, a regular embarrassment. But now Peggy seems to like it - though he can only imagine the delight she might take in eliciting blushes from him in the future. "You should see how far down it goes." That's how you flirt, right?
It's really unfair how composed Peggy always is, he thinks. He's been able to strip away a little of that composure with his touch so far, but he still knows which one of them is in charge here, and it's not him. (It's never him, and that doesn't bother him at all.)
Peggy does like it. The proof of the pudding is in the eating. And seeing even a brief warmth on his cheeks — in passing; across a table; ducking out of a doorway — reinforces for her that she isn't alone in this attraction. The imbalance barely occurs to her. She might delight in how a flush creeps up behind his ears, but she's happy to stay poised. Usually. Mostly.
A little less so tonight as she squirms in place, only just beginning to feel disatisfied with the pace she herself has set. Helped and hindered by his leveled challenge which, clumsy though it is, she finds legitimately endearing. Why, yes, she would like to trace the leading edge of his flushed skin however far it takes her. Like marking a map.
Is it too early to kiss him? Peggy hums a note before she twists in his arms, rolling onto her side again — but this time facing him. So, so, so close. And with a hold of his wrist, bold beneath the blanket, she makes sure his tentative touch doesn't leave her breast. Ensures his fingers are still against the silk, even though she thinks about guiding him under.
As Peggy twists in his arms, he blushes even more, and never mind he's basically invited her to undress him or the fact that he has his hand on her breast, somehow the sudden escalation of their embrace feels more intimate than all of that.
"Little cold to get undressed here," he quips with a wry, somewhat abashed grin. Is he supposed to kiss her now? Suddenly the old clumsiness is back, now that he can see her face again - or, rather, now that she can see his.
She offers a slow, sly shake of her head. Yes, it's tempting. But she's got ample self-control, doesn't she? Perhaps it's reward enough just to imagine undressing him. For now, she makes due with chasing her wonder across hus features. Eyeing his expression and the flush in his face.
"Don't fret," she drawls. "You can keep your clothes on." This time is implied.
And yet. Her turn to gently nudge a thigh between his knees. Only a hint - a possibility - for now.
Now he turns his attention back to touching her with another one of those light caresses, but this one is just under the silk cup of her bra. He would very much like to see Peggy undressed - would like to help do it himself, stripping off layer after layer to reveal the bare skin underneath - but maybe, as established, when it's not quite so cold. Instead, he drinks in the sight of her face, the way she looks when he touches her - and as the impulse strikes, he bends his head to her neck again, noses up to her ear.
"What if I win?" he whispers again. "Would you take your clothes off if I asked?" Practically dirty talk, coming from him. "Or should I save my wish for something else?" Implying, perhaps, that nudity is inevitable.
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It's really unfair how composed Peggy always is, he thinks. He's been able to strip away a little of that composure with his touch so far, but he still knows which one of them is in charge here, and it's not him. (It's never him, and that doesn't bother him at all.)
no subject
A little less so tonight as she squirms in place, only just beginning to feel disatisfied with the pace she herself has set. Helped and hindered by his leveled challenge which, clumsy though it is, she finds legitimately endearing. Why, yes, she would like to trace the leading edge of his flushed skin however far it takes her. Like marking a map.
Is it too early to kiss him? Peggy hums a note before she twists in his arms, rolling onto her side again — but this time facing him. So, so, so close. And with a hold of his wrist, bold beneath the blanket, she makes sure his tentative touch doesn't leave her breast. Ensures his fingers are still against the silk, even though she thinks about guiding him under.
"Tempting."
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"Little cold to get undressed here," he quips with a wry, somewhat abashed grin. Is he supposed to kiss her now? Suddenly the old clumsiness is back, now that he can see her face again - or, rather, now that she can see his.
no subject
"Don't fret," she drawls. "You can keep your clothes on." This time is implied.
And yet. Her turn to gently nudge a thigh between his knees. Only a hint - a possibility - for now.
no subject
"What if I win?" he whispers again. "Would you take your clothes off if I asked?" Practically dirty talk, coming from him. "Or should I save my wish for something else?" Implying, perhaps, that nudity is inevitable.