Chapter Text
On the other end of the line, Hill sighs. “Look, I don’t have any more jobs for you, Rogers. It’s the off season. You’re a specialty item. And you’ve already taken everything in your category. Unless one of your regular clients calls in needing something, I don’t have anything.”
Steve grinds his teeth together. “What about something more lucrative .”
He can hear Hill take a deep breath. “For the duration of our business relationship, you’ve been very clear about the types of contracts you’re willing to take. As well as the types you won’t take.”
“I’m in a tight spot,” Steve says. “I need money and I need it fast. Do you have something?”
He can almost hear her running the numbers. He knows she would like him to expand his offerings. But he also knows that she would like to do so in a controlled environment, and not under the gun like this.
“Dammit,” she finally says. “Here’s the thing. Thor’s MIA. I’ve been able to shuffle most of his regulars to other service providers, but there’s one - ”
“I’ll take it,” Steve says.
“You haven’t heard the specifics,” Hill replies curtly. “It’s a woman.”
Steve pauses. “That’s fine. Why would you think that’s a problem?”
“I’m not in the business of assumptions, Rogers. I don’t know your life. You should also know that she’s a pain in the ass. An ice queen. She is incredibly particular. Odds are you’ll get over there and she’ll send you packing. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t shoot you on sight.”
“What choice does she have?” Steve asks. While there are plenty of escort services in D.C., there aren’t many agencies like the one Hill runs. She specializes in discretion. He’s heard from his own clients that it can be next to impossible to get a referral, and once you do, you can sit on a waiting list for months.
“Women like her always have a choice,” Hill replies dryly, “so you’d better be a thousand times more charming than you’ve ever demonstrated to me that you can be. She’s a dom, so you sure as hell better figure out how to stow the lip and take direction.”
“A dom? I’m not - “
“I don’t mean a literal bondage scene, Steve,” Hill snaps. “I mean in the general sense. She’s used to giving orders, and having them followed without question.”
Steve takes a deep breath. “I can do it. What’s it pay?”
“Ten times your usual rate. If she doesn’t kick you out.”
“ Ten times? ” Steve can’t keep the shock out of his voice.
“Don’t complain to me,” Hill says flatly. “I’ve been trying to get you to take better paying contracts for the last year. If you’re broke, it’s your own fault.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Steve says. “Text me the details.”
“You sure you can do this?” Hill asks.
“I’m fine.”
“Do you need anything?”
Steve frowns. “Like what?”
“Pharmaceuticals, Rogers,” she says dryly. “Alcohol and illegal drugs aren’t options. Not with this client. So if you need something to enhance your performance, you better stop by the office.”
“Jesus,” Steve curses, scrubbing a hand over his face. Is he really doing this? “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I won’t embarrass you.”
“I’m more worried about you embarrassing yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, Nat, it’s Steve,” he says, leaving a message. “Listen, I’ll have the money by tomorrow. Tell Buck to stay on the waiting list. Let me know when and where you can meet. Take care. See you soon.”
Peggy steps off the elevator and heads to the suite. It has been a shit day and she is looking forward to blowing off some steam. She lets herself into the room and shrugs out of her coat, hanging it up in the closet and then proceeds down the hall to the bedroom, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
She comes to an abrupt stop just inside the bedroom. The man lounging on the bed is not Thor. She’s already dialing security as she demands, “Who are you?”
He immediately holds his hands up in supplication. “I’m with the agency. Please don’t call the cops.”
“Yes, Ms. Carter?” the woman from the security desk answers.
Peggy mutes the call, looking at him. “What’s the code?”
“Compass,” he says. “I swear. I’m with the agency.”
Taking a deep breath, Peggy assesses the situation. He’s attractive. Smaller than Thor, but exceedingly well proportioned. He’s wearing a dark burgundy shirt made of a soft, clinging material. It looks like it’s at least two sizes too small, and it clearly defines his well muscled shoulders, arms, and chest. His upper body is a work of art, perhaps even more impressive than Thor’s, if lacking Thor’s scale.
She looks at him. He’s pretty. And she wants to get laid. It’s been a terrible day.
She makes a split second decision and unmutes the phone. “Disregard,” she says. “It was a false alarm.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The man on the bed seems to relax. He’s wearing low slung dark denim jeans, no shoes or socks. He wears no jewelry and has no visible piercings. He’s clean shaven, but she can see the shadow of a heavy beard along his impressive jaw.
She crosses her arms over her chest, causing the material of her dress to pull taut as she studies him. “Who are you?”
“Steve.”
“Where’s Thor?”
He smiles. “He’s unavailable permanently. Moved on. I’m here to make sure you get what you want.”
She takes a deep breath and exhales sharply. “Stay where you are. Don’t move.” She dials the agency.
Five minutes later, Peggy has confirmed Steve’s story. She still doesn’t like it. At least, she doesn’t like the unexpected change of plans. Steve, himself, seems inoffensive enough. He looks clean, the agency vouched that he’s passed all his recent health checks, and he’s proven himself to be sufficiently articulate and well mannered. He’s attractive. If the agency sent him, presumably he can fulfill his end of the contract.
But he seems uneasy.
“Are you new?” she asks. When he looks at her, she elaborates, “To the vocation. You look uncomfortable.”
“Ah ... no,” he says carefully. “But you’re the first new client I’ve had in a while.”
“Really?” she asks, removing her earrings. “And how many clients do you have?”
He shakes his head and gives her a small smile. “I don’t discuss my clients with anyone.”
“No kissing and telling,” she says lightly.
He just looks at her for a long moment, and she’s taken with his eyes. They’re light, but his lashes are dark and heavy. “Not everyone likes to be kissed,” he says quietly.
She arches an eyebrow. Maybe he does have potential.
She sets her phone down on the nightstand. Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet. Cautiously, he walks toward her. He is tall, taller than her. With her in heels and him in bare feet, they’re almost the same height. It brings up some interesting possibilities, which she files away for later.
“Stop,” she says.
He stops, waiting.
Slowly, she steps closer to him. He doesn’t attempt to reach out and paw her. He stands there, watching.
He’s becoming more interesting by the minute.
She walks around him in a slow circuit. His body is impressive. When they’re face to face again, she plucks at the hem of his shirt. He takes the hint and pulls it over his head in one fluid move. Then he waits.
She sees it immediately. His skin is a pale milky white, lighter than she usually favors, but appealing in its own way. There is a smattering of freckles across his shoulders. And down his right side is a large scar. It starts at chest level and extends at least to his hip. It seems to be the worst at his ribcage. It’s at least five years old, she’d wager. It looks like he had several rounds of skin grafts, and it’s obvious he’s done a lot of physical rehab. He’s waiting to see if it will turn her off.
It doesn’t.
“What happened?” she asks.
“Car wreck,” he replies, without looking at her.
She walks around behind him, taking stock. His shoulder to waist ratio is impressive. She wonders if he’s ever been a wrestler. It’s clear he’s athletic. She can see calluses along his knuckles. A boxer? He certainly doesn’t have the face of a boxer.
She leans in, nearly pressing her nose against the nape of his neck. He smells good. Not like cologne or scented body wash. Just clean skin. She touches his shoulder and feels his breath catch, but he doesn’t move. His skin is so hot, warming her hand instantly.
Slowly, she skims her hand down his back and then around, to stroke his abdomen with her perfectly manicured nails. She can feel his muscles tense under her touch. She bites down on his shoulder and he tries to swallow a groan. He’s responsive. She likes that. And he takes direction well. She likes that more.
“Turn around,” she says.
He turns, watching her closely. Upon closer inspection, his eyelashes are nothing short of amazing. So is the rest of him. She can almost feel the coiled tension in his body, the buzz of anticipation. He likes this. And she likes that.
Stepping back, she looks him up and down. “Strip and get on the bed.” As soon as he starts to comply, she walks into the bathroom. When she returns with the towel and small bottle, he’s on the bed as she directed, naked as the day he was born.
He still seems a bit uncomfortable, but it’s mixed with an undeniable excitement. He’s breathing too fast, and his cheeks and chest are stained with a blush. She takes note of the fact that he’s neatly groomed. He’s half erect already. His lips are parted slightly and he’s watching her intently. He is strikingly handsome. Her partners always are. But Steve’s features appeal to her on a visceral level. From his heavy lashes to his full lips, the slight imperfection of his nose, the hard line of his jaw. Taken all together, she finds him incredibly attractive.
She’s still wearing her dress, but she unzips it and lets it slide down her body to pool on the floor. Her undergarments are matching black lace. She leaves the heels on. She watches him take a sharp breath, watches his flesh swell harder.
With some maneuvering, she makes herself comfortable on the bed, sitting next to him, on his left side, so she’s even with his hips, her legs tucked up under her. His left hand is resting on the unoccupied pillow, his right is loose at his side. She doesn’t miss how his fists clench and unclench, but he’s perfectly still, waiting on her.
She takes the small bottle of lube and opens it, pouring a generous amount into her palm. She rubs her hands together, warming the liquid.
She watches his throat move as he swallows thickly. “Do you want me to touch you?” he asks, his voice is low, husky. Her nipples tighten at the sound.
Slowly, she turns her head and looks at him. “No. I’m going to touch you.”
He nods, taking a deep breath. He’s fully erect now.
She reaches for him with her right hand, slowly running the tips of her fingers up and down his shaft. His breath catches and she watches his thigh muscles contract. Biting back a smile, she wraps her hand around his cock. Her hand is glossy from the lube and her red lacquered nails are so shiny. She looks at him, finding him watching her, his attention fixated on her hand.
She strokes him slowly, up and down. He’s more turned on than the circumstances should warrant - a simple, lazy handjob. But his abs are tight and there’s perspiration beading on his upper lip. He’s into this. And she doesn’t think it’s because he popped a handful of viagra and a couple redbulls. He likes her. And he likes this power dynamic. That’s rare in her experience. Thor played along, but there was always an undercurrent of him vying for control. Steve doesn’t appear to have any mutinous intentions. It’s clear he isn’t intimidated by her power. He enjoys it.
Peggy isn’t sure what Steve’s story is. There was enough truth when he talked about other clients that she believes he’s been with the agency for a while. But she also knows this is the first time he’s been in a situation like this. She wonders what he usually does. Or who. Maybe he’s had an exclusive arrangement with a client. Peggy can understand the appeal.
She pauses for a moment, rearranges herself so she’s straddling him, her knees on either side of his hips. She braces one hand against the headboard and uses the other to resume stroking his cock. She’s leaning over him, watching him.
Her intention has been to bring him to the edge and then back him off, to tease him, torment him. It’s always been one of her preferred warmups. Enjoyable for everyone, and sets the tone for the evening to follow.
Steve’s hands brush against her knees, his thumbs skimming against her thighs. She didn’t give him leave to touch her and it’s on the tip of her tongue to reprimand him when their eyes meet.
“ Please .”
His voice makes her shiver and she finds herself moving her hand faster. His fingertips bite into her thighs and his breath catches. He groans as he comes.
She continues to stroke him until he’s finished, and then she sits back on her heels, looking at him. He’s heavy lidded and loose limbed, flushed. She’s all too aware of how fast her own breathing is, how wet she is.
With as much grace as she can manage, she gets off the bed. She wipes her hand, and then tosses the towel at him. “Clean up.”
Without looking back, she walks to the bathroom. She avoids meeting her own eyes in the mirror as she washes her hands.
She doesn’t know what just happened. She isn’t sure if she likes it. Maybe she likes it too much. All she knows is that she doesn’t usually deviate from her plan like that.
Shaking her head, she slips out of the few items of clothing she still wears, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom floor. She twists her hair into a knot on the top of her head. The suite’s walk in shower is enormous and she starts the water, waiting until it is steaming to step inside. She lets the hot spray pound against her back. She’s still aching with want, filled with restless energy.
She braces her forearm against the cool shower tiles, and rests her head against it, closing her eyes. With her other hand, she touches herself. Her nipples are still pebbled to hard points. She pinches them lightly, groaning. Then her hand ventures lower. She touches herself carefully, rubbing slowly with the pads of her fingers.
She hears the shower door open, feels the sudden rush of cool air before it closes again. He’s standing there, behind her, trying to figure out what to do. She gives him credit for that. He likes to observe and assess, rather than charging in.
Eventually, his fingertips come to rest lightly at her hips, and his lips press against her shoulder. He waits, to see if she will reject him, or give him direction. She does neither, leaning back against him as she continues to touch herself. She hears him curse under his breath, and then his right hand is skimming down her right arm, until he can cup his hand around hers. He mimics her movements with his hand. “Show me,” he whispers, his lips against the shell of her ear.
She shows him, and he’s a fast learner. His fingers are also considerably larger than her own, and callused. She widens her stance for him, and he nips at her earlobe as he works her over until she’s shivering in his arms.
She waits until the world has righted itself again, and then turns. He’s holding her loosely, watching her, waiting. Against her own better judgement, she reaches up and cpulls his head down. He’s eager, but attentive. His lips feel as lush as they look, and he’s more talented with his tongue than she expects. When was the last time she kissed anyone? And here she is making out with her paid escort. What the fuck is she doing?
Peggy pulls away. He lets her go, looking forlorn. But he doesn’t complain. She turns, rinsing herself under the spray, before turning off the water and leaving the shower. He follows her. She doesn’t look at him as they both towel themselves dry.
She heads for the bedroom first and douses the lights before pulling back the covers and climbing into the bed. Steve follows. He opens the nightstand drawer and removes a foil condom wrapper.
For Peggy, there is a Way Things Go, on nights like this. So far, virtually nothing has gone to plan. And yet, when Steve reaches for her in the dark, she lets him pull her close.
They touch and kiss, exploring, cataloging. Peggy learns what he likes, and shows him what she likes. When she finally sinks down on him and they begin to move together, it’s nothing short of relief for both of them.
Peggy has always been one to look after her own needs, but Steve seems equally determined that she enjoy herself. She reaches several peaks before he finally lets himself get close. To her own shock, Peggy finds herself whispering encouragement in his ear. He likes it when she talks. When she tightens around him, his fingers bite into her hip and his breath comes short. She holds him close as he finally buries his face against her neck, finding his own release.
END CHAPTER