A/N: Obviously, this is in honor of everyone's favorite birthday boy.
Warnings for: oral sex, everybody lives AU.
Steve's woken up in a lot of less than pleasant situations. He's woken up unable to breathe more times than he can count, and he's been startled from a quick nap in the field by a sudden hail of gunfire more than once. However, all those rude awakenings just serve to make waking up to Peggy's touch feel even sweeter.
Her breath is soft and fluttery against his neck, and her hand is gentle as it slides down his chest. "Morning," he murmurs, opening his eyes halfway to peek at her.
She kisses him softly, deeply, and then pulls back to smile at him and murmur, "Good morning." There's a familiar warmth in her gaze, and it's then that Steve starts to figure things out. For starters, he notices that she's in her underwear and nothing else, and that one of her cool hands is sliding up under his shirt, brushing the skin of his stomach and making him feel warm from something other than the sticky July heat.
"What's brought this on?" Steve asks curiously, smiling at her. "Not that I'm complaining, though -"
Peggy kisses him again, more than likely for the express purpose of shutting him up. "Quiet, Steve," she says, in that way of hers, the one that means she has something in store for him. "Do lie back and relax, please."
Steve obliges her, of course - you don't argue with Peggy Carter unless it's damned important. She sets about unbuttoning his nightshirt, taking her sweet time and brushing her lips across every spot she knows will drive him to distraction. Once she's finished with his shirt, she leaves it unbuttoned and makes her way to his pants. After a gentle prod from her, he lifts his hips up and she tugs his pants and shorts down to his knees in one smooth motion.
A blush heats his cheeks, half lust and half residual shyness. "Peggy," he manages, and she looks up at him with those big brown eyes of hers and he's reminded, for what is quite possibly the millionth time, that he is so far gone for her it's not even funny.
"At ease, Captain," she murmurs, sliding her hands up his thighs and making him shiver before he relaxes back against the pillow. Her hands are still a little cool - they always are, for whatever reason - but her mouth is hotter than anything, and it's so good that Steve has an even harder time than normal of not making a fool of himself.
Maybe it's because he's still sort of drowsy, his limbs heavy with sleep but his nerves alight with arousal, or maybe it's because he's just that in love with Peggy, but it's only minutes before he's squirming, mumbling nonsense that he hopes is romance. He won't look down, can't, because if he does it'll be over and he's not ready for it to end just yet. But Peggy seems to have other plans - if the satisfied hum she gives when he mumbles her name is any indication, she knows exactly what she's doing to him.
"Peggy," Steve tries again a moment later, voice hoarse. He lifts his head, because he won't hold off much longer if she keeps this up and he has to warn her - but the sight of her, from her creamy skin to her soft pink mouth, only pushes him that much closer to the edge.
She doesn't stop, she just does that thing with her tongue that gets him every time, and Steve jerks and comes with a noise that he'll have plenty of time to be embarrassed about later. It takes him a few seconds to recover from his post-orgasm daze, but his attention returns to Peggy quickly enough.
She's still between his legs, but she's sitting upright on the bed and smirking at him, as pleased with herself as she damn well ought to be. Steve knows he probably looks like a dope, smiling at her in the most lovesick way possible, but who could blame him?
"That was - wow," Steve manages, and Peggy's smirk turns into a mischievous smile that sends heat lancing through him all over again.
"Happy birthday, Captain," she says, and in Steve's book, the day is certainly looking up.