A Full Life

BY : DrunkenScotsman
Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Captain America
Dragon prints: 3947
Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or any of the characters in this story; Marvel does. I do not make any money from this story.

A/N: Apologies for the extreme delay on this chapter. I got distracted by another story idea, life busyness, and structural issues. This chapter (or parts of it) was meant to be the whole story, when it started life as a "Steve and Peggy's first time" one-shot, before it grew conceptually into what it is now. I had to revise and repurpose and generally Frankenstein this chapter together, but I hope it's everything you've been waiting for after five chapters of buildup. Let me know with a review!

Edit (11/8/21): Reread the chapter and remembered that the Dodgers were in Brooklyn in this time period, and therefore were probably Steve's team instead of the Yankees.


Chapter 6: The Right Partner



Golden sunlight, diffused through pale curtains, filled the interior of the second-floor bedroom of the Rogers residence, a midcentury Brooklyn home, with inviting light. Steve squeezed his eyes shut against the glow at first, desiring just a few more minutes’ sleep – if there was one thing he’d learned from his Army days, it was “sleep when you can, because you don’t know when next you’ll be able to.” The unfamiliar sensation of another person, warm and soft and draped partially atop him, snapped the former Avenger to full awareness.

When Steve opened his eyes, he saw the top of a head of dark curls resting on his chest, the sheen of a baby-blue satin nightgown outlining feminine curves, and a pale arm and thigh slung haphazardly over him. After a few moments shaking off the last cobwebs of sleep, a smile crept across his face.


His best girl. The love of his life, as he’d told the post-Snap support group.

And, as of 3 PM yesterday afternoon on April 26, his wife.

Just thinking of Peggy as his wife widened Steve’s grin.

He knew he’d remember until his dying day the moment he first saw her as his bride in her white neck-to-ankles gown, the translucent patterned lace on her arms the only modern touch to the piece. Steve remembered his jaw falling open as the organ, thrumming the bridal march at its full majestic volume, filled the small Episcopalian church – a compromise between her Anglican and his Presbyterian. When Peggy joined him at the altar, her radiant smile, at its most unrestrained, shone through her veil.

Much of the day remained a blur. Peggy’s friend Angie had served as maid of honor, with Mrs. Jarvis as additional bridesmaid; while Daniel Sousa had stood as Steve’s best man, with Howard Stark as additional groomsman. Most of Peggy’s coworkers from the SSR had turned up, as had the Howling Commandoes. Peggy’s family had insisted on making the trip from England, a request which had taken months to arrange, between passports and the Carters’ plans to ‘make a jolly good holiday’ of their trans-Atlantic voyage.

Steve’s expression fell a bit. Two absences had cast a slight pall over the festivities – Bucky’s, of course, whom Steve had always wanted as his best man; and Sergeant Bradley, who hadn’t responded to Steve’s invitation, or any of Steve’s other letters over the last few months. He must still be deployed in Korea, Steve thought glumly; I’ll write him again in a few days.

Peggy stirring against him brought Steve’s mind back to the present. “Good morning, Mrs. Rogers,” he greeted her as she looked up at him with those fathomless dark eyes he always lost himself in.

Peggy wrinkled her nose. ‘I always thought that might be romantic, but as it turns out I think I rather hate it,’ she replied in a sour tone.

Steve smirked. “You’re pulling my leg.”

Peggy shook her head. ‘We talked about this,’ she reminded him with a playful smile, ‘though it has been some time.’

Steve searched his memory. “Before we were steady,” he recalled. “You want to keep your name.” At Peggy’s enthusiastic nod, he asked, “Even in private?”

‘I’m afraid so, darling.’ Peggy stroked his cheek, smiling her full but close-lipped smile. ‘About last night…’

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Peg,” Steve tried to object.

‘But I do,’ insisted Peggy. ‘Even with our somewhat small ceremony, the preparations over the last few months – especially my whole family coming across the ocean and having to explain to them they can’t see all of America in one trip – have been absolute bedlam.’ She frowned. ‘I swear, I didn’t intend to lie down and drop off straightaway.’

“At least you managed to get out of your wedding gown first,” Steve quipped, earning a giggle from his wife. More seriously, he added, “I also never want you to feel pressured into… uh… ‘performing’… for my sake.”

Peggy scooted up to nibble on Steve’s ear, sending a shiver along his spine. ‘When have you ever known me to avoid speaking up for myself?’ she teased. Tracing her lips along his neck, she added, ‘As it happens, I’ve always been more of a morning person anyway.’

Steve fought down a groan at the sultry tone of his wife’s voice. He leaned down to meet her lips with his own, savoring their plushness as they kissed. One of his hands trailed down her spine, eliciting a contented hum.

Peggy pulled back with a sour expression. ‘I think we both need to brush our teeth,’ she told him as she worked her tongue over her teeth.

Steve laughed as they got out of bed and headed for their adjoining bathroom. “Morning breath never came to mind when I imagined waking up with you,” he admitted.

‘Serves you right for putting me on a pedestal,’ retorted Peggy as she began brushing.

Steve joined her, mulling over what she’d said. Marriage would be like this, he realized: They would see every single facet of one another, for better and for worse.

He honestly looked forward to the adventure.

Besides, even brushing his teeth beside the woman he loved held a certain romantic appeal.

After rinsing, Steve reached over to slide one slender, lacy strap from Peggy’s shoulder, baring the pale flesh beneath. He slipped behind her and peppered that shoulder with kisses, each approaching closer to her neck. The contented sigh she emitted paired with the way she ground her plush rear against him to tempt him with thoughts of bending her over the counter and having her right here in the bathroom.

He wouldn’t, of course. She deserved better than that, especially for their first attempt at lovemaking. But he still thought about it. Even a consummate gentleman like Steve has an imagination.

‘Before we begin in earnest, love,’ Peggy purred, pulling Steve back to the present, ‘there’s one more thing I need to do to get ready. Go lie down, and I’ll be along straightaway.’

“Anything I can help with?” asked Steve, letting his hands roam his wife’s curves.

Peggy squirmed out of his grasp and swatted her husband on the bicep. ‘If you must know, I have to put in my diaphragm, and I don’t want you watching. It’s rather embarrassing.’

Flushing, Steve nodded and backed off. “What about a rubber?”

Blushing, Peggy answered, ‘This first time, at least, I want us to feel everything, erm, naturally, the way the good Lord intended.’

Steve smiled and left her to it. Lying on the bed, he folded his hands behind this head and stared at the ceiling. Eager excitement built inside him, elongating every moment into an eon with anticipation.

The sound of Peggy’s bare feet on the hardwood floor caught Steve’s attention. Her gait seemed… off somehow. He was about to ask if she’d hurt herself, but the smolder in her dark eyes preempted him. ‘It’ll take some getting used to, that’s all,’ she reassured him.

Steve sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. “Bit of a mood-killer?” he asked as he took her hands. At his wife’s embarrassed nod, he guided her to sit between his legs, her back against his chest, his arms around her waist. “Let’s see if we can’t regain our momentum,” he murmured into her ear before stippling kisses along her neck and shoulder.

Peggy sighed contentedly at her husband’s efforts, tilting her head to encourage those efforts. ‘You seem more comfortable with this than I might’ve expected,’ she commented as she pressed herself back against him.

Steve frowned, having heard something in Peggy’s voice he didn’t like, but kept kissing along her pale skin. “Beating around the bush isn’t like you,” he countered. “You sound upset.”

Peggy squeezed Steve’s hands, reassuring him, ‘I’m not cross with you. I simply had this awful thought that you’d… bedded other women, perhaps. Your USO castmates, or that Russian spy you told me about.’

“Would that have changed your mind about marrying me?” he asked, stopping what he was doing to focus on this conversation, which his wife obviously thought important.

‘No… but I’d be disappointed,’ she answered.

“Why?” Thinking his tone might’ve sounded more defensive than he’d intended, Steve apologized: “Sorry… I’m just… confused.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peggy purse her lips. ‘When we first met, you told me you were waiting for “the right partner” for your first dance,’ she explained in a fond, wistful tone. A smile with a similar timbre tugged at her lips. ‘I suppose I’d built up this grand, romantic notion you had the same mindset about… intimacy.’

Steve let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “So that’s what this is about,” he concluded aloud. “We’ve been together a long time now. Why did you wait until now to bring this up?”

‘A proper lady doesn’t discuss such things with men who aren’t her husband,’ she responded, in a tone that suggested Peggy considered the answer obvious. More wryly, she added, ‘Some ladies, not even then.’

Steve chuckled. “You’re hardly the model of a proper lady, Agent Carter.”

Peggy stifled a laugh. ‘In the arena of the bedroom, I certainly am,’ she insisted.

“Those photos you sent me while I was in Korea suggest otherwise.”

For a long moment, Peggy said nothing, until a sheepish ‘Mostly’ escaped her. More seriously, she told him, ‘I was betrothed once before. Before the last war.’

Steve’s ears pricked up. She’d never mentioned this before. Curiosity piqued, he didn’t dare interrupt.

‘Fred and my brother Michael had been mates since they were children. I’d just turned eighteen, seven years his junior, when he proposed, at my parents’ insistence. Then, when… when Michael…’

Peggy’s voice cracked as she trailed off. ‘He left me a letter, telling me he knew I needed a life of purpose. I joined the war effort in his stead. Fred was… unremarkable, so I broke it off without a second thought.’

Steve winced at the tepid assessment. He didn’t understand romance well, but he knew enough to know one needed some talent or personality trait to actively attract a woman and hold her interest. He felt a surge of gratitude that whatever qualities he had had sufficed to attract a woman like Peggy.

Peggy’s voice regained Steve’s attention: ‘On one occasion, driving me home from a dinner party at his family’s home, Fred tried to become… overly familiar with me. The proper lady in me objected in the proper fashion, with a quiet word. Upon a second attempt, Agent Carter – though I’d not yet earned that moniker – objected with a right hook.’

They both laughed, and Steve gently caressed his wife’s waist in a manner he hoped she’d interpret as comforting. “I happen to like both the proper lady and the secret agent. That’s why I asked them to marry me.”

Peggy squeezed his hands. ‘I’ve no plans to stop you, darling,’ she reassured him. ‘I just…’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m no lithe, eager dancing girl, nor Russian femme fatale.’

Steve pulled his wife closer. He’d wanted to quip, “You’ll note I didn’t marry any of them,” but he didn’t think it wise. Peggy sounded more unsure of herself than he’d ever heard her, and he wanted to honor her vulnerability with sincerity, not sarcasm. “I love you, Peggy. I’ve never wanted anyone else.” With a flash of insight, he added, “I don’t think I meant it that way at the time, but you were right about what I wanted: the right partner.”

Exhaling, Peggy shuddered, and Steve could feel her relax in his arms. They sat together in silence for some time, eyes shut, basking in the simple pleasure of one another’s presence.

Finally, Peggy broke the silence: ‘Darling, I can’t tell you how happy I am that we’ll be sharing this only with each other. I hope I haven’t spoilt the mood.’

Steve grinned and resumed kissing his wife’s neck, who hummed with a tone both contented and encouraging. “I’m a patient man, Peg. If you want this to go slow…” He laughed, mostly at himself. “I can do this all day.”

Peggy snorted in a most unladylike fashion, and Steve could practically hear her rolling her eyes. ‘Honestly…’

Because she continued to hold his hands in place around her waist, Steve decided to improvise. Kissing Peggy’s right shoulder more insistently, he took the silken strap of her nightgown between his teeth and began, carefully, to move it. He reached the curve where shoulder became arm before Peggy caught onto his strategy, if her gasp were any indication. Gravity took over past a certain point, drawing the strap down to the crook of her elbow. Nearby the lacy upper hem of her nightgown also descended, revealing more of Peggy’s pale flesh, until the fabric barely preserved her modesty by clinging to the swell of her breast.

Peggy’s breathing quickened, but she didn’t protest. Steve resumed kissing, this time along the back of her shoulder. He allowed his lips to linger briefly on each of the small, round scars back there. Peggy shivered.

“Wanna tell me about these?” Steve prompted.

Peggy tensed slightly. ‘Another time, darling. I, erm, don’t want to get sidetracked. Again.’ She squirmed, her plush rear grinding against him enticingly.

Steve kissed the spots again, earning another shiver from his wife. He considered pressing for details, but decided against it since Peggy sounded self-conscious about them. “I could undress you faster if you let go of my hands,” he pointed out.

‘What happened to “I’m a patient man”?’ she retorted.

“I thought you might be getting impatient, with how you’re squirming,” he teased.

‘I like what you’re doing. By all means, carry on.’ She ground backward more firmly to emphasize the point.

Steve groaned at his wife’s teasing. Deciding two could play at the same game, he trailed kisses in a meandering path across Peggy’s upper back, detouring to her earlobes on the way. A soft noise of enjoyment escaped her, spurring her husband onward.

Again, he took the silken strap of her nightgown between his teeth and guided it off her shoulder, careful not to exert too much force and tear the fabric. As before, with the strap dangling, the garment barely remained able to cover Peggy’s expansive bosom. Every excited breath she now took threatened the garment’s precarious position.

Gripping Steve’s hands, Peggy moved them in a wide arc up and around, placing them on her shoulders. Next, she raked her nails gently down his forearms before dropping them to her husband’s knees on either side of her. ‘Go on, then darling,’ she whispered, her voice shaking. ‘I’ve seen you sneaking looks. I know you want to touch them.’ She pressed back against him a little more firmly. ‘I can feel your excitement,’ she purred.

With his wife’s permission, Steve let his hands trail downward, past the collarbone. As his hands moved onto the soft swells, he felt Peggy’s breath hitch. The flesh felt pillowy-soft and incredibly warm and impossible to encapsulate in his hands, not to mention perfectly smooth until he encountered the pebbled texture of what must be her nipples. Running his fingertips over the stiffened tips produced the first mewl of pleasure he’d ever heard.

He couldn’t wait to hear more.

Steve had been stiff ever since he woke up with his wife in his arms. Hearing her making noises of pleasure from his caresses – noises he caused – reinvigorated his desire, as did spying the deep blush on her cheeks. He wanted to discover what other noises she might make.

Peggy let her head fall back onto her husband’s shoulder. With her back arched like that, and her arms down and Steve’s hands inside it, her nightgown finally surrendered to gravity’s pull, pooling around her waist and exposing her whole torso. She disentangled her arms from the garment so she could reach back and tangle her fingers into Steve’s hair and pull him in for a passionate kiss.

The maneuver forced Steve to release the breast on that side, though the other hand made up the difference by kneading firmly. Kissing his wife more amorously, he slid his hand lower, stroking the strikingly smooth skin of Peggy’s stomach. Her firm abs contracted at his touch, more and more frequently as his hand continued its descent.

Both of them froze when his hand encountered the dense thicket of curls at the apex of her thighs. Long moments passed in silence.

Eventually, Peggy pulled back, her cheeks thoroughly pink. ‘I, erm, left off my knickers after inserting the diaphragm,’ she explained, perhaps unnecessarily.

“They’d just be in the way at this point,” Steve responded, understanding.

‘Much like what you’re wearing, darling,’ Peggy purred. She twisted around in her husband’s arms and peeled his t-shirt up and off. An unfamiliar, lusty light shone in her dark eyes as they raked up and down Steve’s chiseled frame, followed soon by her eager hands. ‘I’ve wanted to do this since the moment you stepped out of that chamber,’ she admitted sheepishly.

Steve chuckled at the fond memory. “I remember.” He ran his hands up and down his wife’s back while pulling her flush against him. Feeling her bare breasts, so soft and warm, against his bare chest – along with the glimpses he’d caught of those vast expanses of pale flesh, topped with large, stiff pink tips – drove him right to the edge of his self-control.

Peggy’s next kiss held a hunger Steve had never felt before, nearly robbing him of breath with its needy ferocity. His heart hammered in his ears, reminding him of his own need. His hands gripped the fabric of her nightgown and pulled, prompting his wife to wriggle free of the garment. In the process, they tumbled back onto the bed, Peggy partially on top.

Meanwhile, Peggy’s hands had also migrated southward to explore the areas covered by Steve’s shorts, the last piece of clothing on either of them. Each time she brushed the bulge she found, they both emitted muffled noises of desire. After some fruitless tugging at his underwear, she managed to convey that she needed his help to remove it, which he gave.

‘Now that we’re suitably dressed,’ quipped Peggy between kisses, ‘we can begin in earnest.’

As long as he’d live, Steve would never forget the way Peggy’s eyes widened when she pulled back to look him over in his entirety, nor the way she swallowed and licked her lips when her gaze lingered on a particular part of him. Her trembling hands began to caress the rigid flesh, as much out of curiosity as desire to arouse. They felt deliciously warm, and Steve barely stifled a groan.

For his part, Steve ran his hands along his wife’s waist and hips, delighting in her curvaceous form and soft, smooth skin. He slipped them around to her rear. Expecting something soft and cushiony, he found instead a veneer of soft cushion over firm muscle, which he gave an equally-firm squeeze. Her thighs, when his hands continued lower, felt much the same as her buttocks – soft yet firm, like silk hiding steel.

On their way back upward, though, Steve’s hands encountered a small patch of rough tissue on Peggy’s lower back, just above the right hip. An identical spot sat in the front. Steve risked a glance down to see the darkened blotch denoting scar tissue. “Another story I should hear later,” he surmised, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

‘Indeed. You’ll be pleased to hear, at least, that the doctor confirmed that, fortunately, that injury failed to damage anything important,’ Peggy reassured him. With a thin smile, she added, ‘The perils of this life of adventure I lead. I won’t have you worrying over every little bump or bruise, clucking like a mother hen. I won’t stand for it.’

“Duly noted,” Steve replied with a laugh, resuming letting his hands explore his wife’s skin. Another scar, this one on her left arm, momentarily triggered a flash of alarm, before he identified it as the scar from her smallpox vaccine. “I’ll keep my clucking to a minimum.”

Peggy rolled her eyes good-naturedly before kissing her husband once more. Her hands also resumed their explorations, leaving goosebumps of desire everywhere they went. She pressed her bare skin against Steve all over and emitted soft, increasingly-insistent mewls of desire, which shifted to a higher pitch when Steve’s fingers began gliding along Peggy’s sodden sex.

After exploring his wife’s most intimate flesh for a bit, taking in the heat and slickness of it and the convulsions of pleasure that periodically wracked Peggy’s body, Steve gathered his courage to ask, “This is normal, right?”

Peggy nodded and gave Steve’s manhood a playful tug. ‘As normal as it is for this to stiffen up.’ Blushing, she added, ‘My understanding is that it serves a purpose rather like motor oil does for a piston.’

Steve hummed as he considered that. “Speaking of motors, yours seems to be running pretty hot,” he commented as he tenderly rolled his wife onto her back.

Peggy parted her legs in invitation, which he accepted by mounting her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gazed up at him with expectant eyes, which seemed to Steve at such close range and in the daylight to have more of a coppery or amber hue. They both gasped at the first contact between his manhood and her womanhood.

“I’ll go slow, okay?” Steve reassured her. “Let me know if it feels okay. No lying back and thinking of England.”

Peggy smiled. ‘You needn’t concern yourself overmuch about that.’ Her previous blush intensified. ‘When I was fourteen, I took a bad tumble while horseback riding. I, erm, broke something that wasn’t a bone.’

Steve nodded. “Still, I want you to enjoy this as much as I think I will.”

‘In that case, I shall lie back and think of America,’ Peggy teased, punctuated with a playful kiss. ‘Now, will you get on with it already?’

Steve laughed, as much in relief as anything, Concentrating, he reached down to guide himself inside. His wife’s soaking sex facilitated the task, coating him in her warm fluids, easing his gradual, inch-by-inch entry. Her innermost flesh felt soft and welcoming as it enveloped him to the uttermost.

Once he was fully embedded, Steve and Peggy stared into one another’s eyes again, realizing that they were now, truly and completely, husband and wife.

When the newlyweds’ lips next met, their kiss contained both the joy of long-deferred fulfillment and the burning anticipation of fulfilling desires yet unmet.

From there, the movements came naturally. Steve lost himself in the deluge of sensations: Peggy’s delicious lips and tongue; her soft skin, moistening with perspiration, against his; her fingers raking along his back and chest and tangling in his hair; the gentle give of her generous breasts; the slick, textured heat all around his member; the whispered entreaties into his ear, each with a deeper sense of urgency than the last. Steve carefully measured the pace, seeking to ensure his wife’s pleasure and maximize it for them both.

He had, not infrequently, imagined what this would feel like. He’d never come close.

The sheer intensity of it ensured he wouldn’t last much longer. Steve would never admit it, but he’d encountered something he couldn’t do all day.

Peggy preceded him over the precipice. Back arching, she gripped her husband’s rear. A series of strangled cries escaped her.

She’d never looked so beautiful, or so damn sexy.

A moment later, Steve had spent himself as well.

The newlyweds lay for a long while together, naked and catching their breaths. Steve eased himself off of his wife and onto the bed beside her, and she rolled onto her side to face him. Their hands meandered aimlessly, not seeking to arouse again but instead merely content to sample the simple joys of touch.

Eventually, Peggy ended the spell of silence: ‘That was lovely, Steve. Much more intense than anything I’ve felt before.’

“Before?” Steve echoed, brow furrowing as he tried to fight through the post-coital fog. “I thought you said—”

‘I am,’ Peggy interjected, shushing him with a finger on his lips. ‘Or rather, I was. I merely meant…’ She trailed off as her cheeks reddened. ‘Even a proper lady will tend her own garden when the mood strikes.’

Steve coughed to hide a laugh at her phrasing that might be misconstrued as mockery. He felt daring, a little, having just satisfied her, so he suggested, “Maybe you can show me sometime, Peg.”

For a moment, his wife looked shocked, even scandalized, at the idea; but she swiftly recovered with a playful smile and a swat on the chest. ‘Cheeky, aren’t we?’

“I’m serious,” Steve insisted. “I want to see the best way to get you into the mood.” He winked with exaggerated salaciousness. “Maybe for round two in a little bit?”

‘The nerve,’ scoffed Peggy, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.

Steve’s smile widened as they kissed once more, briefly. “How about breakfast, then?”

‘Sounds lovely, darling,’ replied his wife. ‘I’ll, erm, handle certain details,’ she half-explained, with a gesture at her groin, ‘and join you soon.’ She sat up gingerly.

“And after breakfast?”

‘I thought we might take in a cricket match this afternoon. Aren’t your Dodgers playing at home?’

“Baseball,” Steve corrected as he put his pajamas back on and donned a house-robe.

Peggy climbed off the bed carefully and picked her way to the bathroom. ‘There’s a pitcher, a batter, a catcher, and one must make it back round to score. They’re clearly the same thing,’ she teased as she shut the door.

Chuckling, Steve shook his head. He wanted to be mad at his wife for her obvious trolling, but he just couldn’t, not on the best morning of his life. Maybe our first fight as a married couple should be over something so silly? he wondered.

Rejecting that thought, he replied, “I’ll explain the differences over breakfast. Something American, like fish and chips.”

No response at first – Steve could imagine Peggy’s eyes narrowing venomously. A moment later, her voice came, muffled through the door: ‘I suppose that draws us level.’

Now, Steve laughed in earnest. “As long as that means we’re even, dear.”

‘Isn’t that what I said, darling?’

Steve decided to leave it at that and go start breakfast, before he dug himself into such a deep hole that he was divorced by lunch.


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