He is everywhere at once, sending my brain into sensory overload. I feel him beneath me, above me, behind me, in front of me, yet not, I vocalize with a frustrated groan, inside me. Every part of me aches to have him, my fingers desperately clawing at the fabric surrounding his body. I can tell I'm leaving red welts beneath the cotton from the sheer ferocity of my desire for this singular human being.

I push him back against the door, yanking the hem of his t-shirt from his trousers. There is a low rip as my hands begin to separate the collar from the actual shirt. Steve's hands come to rest on my arms, holding them still as his eyes meet mine.

"Slow down there, Peg."

I bite my lip, meeting his gaze through heavy eye lashes. His eyes glaze over for a moment and I seize the opportunity, easing my hands away from his grip. I rake my nails lightly down his chest, reveling in each bump of hard muscle, until I reach the button of his trousers.

Steve's Adam's apple bobs ever so slightly as he struggles to swallow. I note his breathing has stopped.

I slowly slide the button open, easing myself onto my toes in the process so that, while my hands remain in position, my lips just graze his ear lobe. "You're over dressed, Captain." I lave my tongue across his ear, and we are so close that I can feel the muscles in his jaw tighten as he fights to remain in control of himself.

"But if you want to go slow…" My fingers find his zipper, easing it down at an agonizing pace and I make sure that my knuckles brush against him. At the contact, my eyes roll back. He's so hard, and it's been so long, and it's Steve, and I just…

Steve's large hands are at my neck, cradling my face in his secure grip. His eyes are so dark, I barely recognize them. "You're right," he murmurs, holding me still so that I am forced to meet his penetrating stare. "To hell with slow."

His lips crash into mine once more, leaving my entire body breathless. Every cell in my body screams for me to take a breath, but I cannot stand to have my mouth leave his even for a moment. I have waited for this for far too long.

Steve drags himself from my mouth, kissing and tasting his way across my jaw to my neck. His hands are everywhere, trying to touch and memorize every square inch of me. My head lulls back, his tongue running over every line of my skin. It's heaven as I snake my fingers into his blonde waves, my nails grazing across his scalp as I clutch him to me.

I gasp as his hands slide underneath me, pulling my thighs around his waist, lifting me off my feet. Instinctively, my ankles lock behind him, fingers curling for a better grip on his skin. I am latched around pure muscle and the feel of it proves to be the most erotic thing I can ever recall. "Steve…" It comes out as a moan. My back eases onto the bed, the down comforter crinkling from the weight. I sense the gentle tug of Steve being pulled away from me and my eyes burst open, my limbs refusing to release. Steve chuckles down at me.

"You're gonna have to let go of me sometime." He looks down at me, his eyes brimming with amusement at my desperation.

I shake my head no, sure that I resemble something close to a petulant child. But he leans over me, placing a light kiss on my nose. "But I'm overdressed, remember?" I slide one leg up and down his body, actually realizing for the first time that there is still that layer of cotton. I smirk as Steve groans at my movement.

"I suppose that's fair," I sigh, unbinding my body from his. I feel the chuckle, low in his chest, hearty and genuine, and oh-so-Steve. My heart breaks slightly at the sound of it.

I pull myself to the head of the bed, my bare back resting against the firm feather pillows. I get momentarily distracted by how soft the sheets are. I hadn't noticed before, but this is probably the softest bed I've ever had the pleasure of sleeping in. Or doing anything else in… The cotton slides between my fingertips, mimicking the motion of silk. I find it fascinating.

But my attention is quickly reclaimed by Steve as he pulls that confounded white t-shirt over his head. Inhaling sharply, I stare unabashedly at the smooth and sculpted planes of his chest. He looks like The David and my brain seems incapable of being able to process anything else. I have lost the ability to breathe. And Steve notices my heavy stare, that fantastic blush creeping across his neck again, though I notice that it also extends down past his clavicle. He looks at the floor, slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers and in one swift movement, he is standing completely naked in front of me. My own personal Greek sculpture. Except that he's Steve and the moment his eyes look up and find mine—I am undone.

"Get over here." It sounds like a rasping version of my voice, but I cannot remember ever having produced those sounds. "Now." I don't have to tell the man twice, thank God, pouncing on me in an instant. He kisses me briefly, his tongue attempting to invade every corner of my mouth, but all too soon, his lips are moving on to other pursuits. He nips lightly at my breasts, forcing groans from me one moment, then soothing my skin with his tongue, forcing breathy sighs from me in the next. It is absolute torture in the most exhilarating way possible.

I never even felt him move that far down. But his hot breath is between my legs and before I even have time to register his intent, his lips are gently pulling, one hand running up and down my stomach while the other slowly pushes into me. I can't. He gets two full pumps in before I shatter, my back sliding down the bed, arching into him, every muscle in my body seeming to contract, then proceeding to explode at an atomic level.

I haven't even caught my breath yet when I feel him loom over me. My eyes flutter open, taking in everything about the way he looks in this single moment: his hair, disheveled and sticking up at odd angles, his fringe swaying and sticking in places to his damp forehead. His face is flushed, just across the bridge of his nose as he takes deep and heavy breaths. His eyes are a dark blue, like the sea during a storm, dangerous and thrilling. His lips are full, thoroughly kissed and swollen, with just a hint of my sex glistening on his bottom lip. It's positively vulgar and I adore it.

"Can I?" It's an interesting contrast, the innocence of his question, with the low, gravelly, sex-driven voice of a fully grown man straining to maintain control. It's so terribly like Steve, and it makes me ache even more for him.

My hands reach up, pushing his fringe from his face, stroking his cheeks. "Of course." It's not a whisper, barely a breath, and yet it's all it takes.

In the next moment, I am filled so completely that I am left exhaling his name, desperate for air. Desperate for him. I have waited over seventy years for this exact moment and it does not fail to disappoint. I am totally consumed by him in that moment, as he finally moves inside me, deliberate and forceful; his lips moving back to my breasts where he twirls first one nipple, then the other along his tongue. One thrust in particular turns out to be exceptional.

"Oh fuck." Suddenly I realize he's stopped. My eyes snap open, boring holes into the man above me. I am frustrated beyond recognition. "What?"

"Are you OK?"

"If you ask me that one more time, I swear to Christ—" But Steve cuts me off, kissing me hard, and I can feel the laughter in the back of his throat.

He moves again, this time drawing small circles with his hips and it feels like he is hitting every last inch of me. It is absolutely glorious. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, just below my ear, so I can hear his mutterings, his chants, as though he were worshiping in a temple. It slurs into a mix of my name, vulgarities, and guttural moans. I cannot stand it.

My back begins to curl off the bed once more, my nails clawing as his back, attempting to get a grip through the sheen of sweat. I need him deeper, closer, faster. I pull my heels in, digging them into his backside, attempting to pull him in as far as possible; my muscles coil, awaiting release. It is in this moment that I hear his words dance across my jawline:

I love you, Peggy Carter.

Everything implodes, crushing itself like a black hole into a singularity. Nothing else exists outside of the single entity that this man and I have become. We are all of time and space combined, having waited long enough for both. I feel him shake within me, his fingers digging into my skin, attempting to hold on to me as long as he can, the entire universe having seemingly shrunk down to nothing more than the flesh and bone and muscle that we consist of. And I do the same, tensing every muscle in my body, clutching every inch of him I can reach to me and in me, because I cannot lose him again. I refuse to allow it.

I cannot be without Steve again.