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It's not often that Peg gets it in her head to take control of BJ, and it's even rarer that he lets her without a fuss. But in the specific aching nights where he's too tightly wound from the most frustrating things—a standard surgery with unexpected complications, a thousand choices for lunch that make him hold up the line, a backfiring car at the exact moment when he's coming up their front walkway—she'll take him over, and she'll settle him down, and she'll call every single shot until he's trembling from the effort of holding back the urge to tackle her into the sheets.
Tonight, she had him sitting on his knees on the edge of the mattress for the longest time. He knows she likes him like this—likes that they're eye to eye, that she can rest her weight on his clenching thigh, that when he whimpers and strains forward to kiss her she can simply bob out of range with a quiet laugh. She kept him there, her hand wrapped around his cock, coaxing him to the edge of his sanity over and over again.
The begging started early. The soft "Please, Peg," and the "God, I-I need..." and the "Can I?" Each whispered, shivering sentence met with compassion, with a sweet, "Not yet," that felt practically like silk against his skin.
Honestly, it's been masterful, the way she forces him to hold still and let himself be taken care of. Soon the feel of metal instruments in his palm falls away. There's no overload of decisions—Peg's the one who tells him what she gets to have and when. And the only sound is the overwhelmed quivering of his breaths, the light praise that loosens his muscles until he starts to sway in place.
By the time Peg presses a single finger against his sternum, he falls like a sawed-through tree teetering on its last fragile fibers of heartwood.
The moment she straddles him and takes him deep inside her, slick and hot and so fucking perfect, BJ arches beneath her with a quiet, rough groan. There's two ways they can go here, and even as she begins to ride him, he waits, hands twitching on the sheets on either side of his head. He keeps his eyes closed, heightens his senses so he can hear her breathy moan, can feel her nails dig into his abs. But when she doesn't move to pin his wrists down, he reaches tentatively, slowly, until he can run his fingers up her smooth thighs.
"That's it," she whispers, opening the door for him to move under her—to meet her in the middle with languid thrusts. Every time their pelvises slap, she grunts, those deliciously filthy sounds that remind him of how sensitive her whole pussy is for him. It doesn't take much to drive her wild, and suddenly that's his only goal in the world, grabbing her by the hips and holding her still so he can fuck up into her and tease every bit of pleasure that he can from her swollen lips.
It's a tidal shift, all at once, shooting BJ from one element of service to the other. He's not mindlessly seeking to stay still and let her take; he's a tool that gives, gives, gives, and he has room to do it now, room to let it overtake him so it's the only thing that matters. He opens his eyes, mouth hanging slack, and watches how Peggy chews on her bottom lip and tips backward, catching herself on his shins.
It's only when she catches his intense stare that she grins, eyes sparking with mischief. "I bet you can do better than that, darling."
Like a wind tunnel, everything shuts off but the roar in his body, in his brain, and he's not sure what consumes him, but BJ snaps upward and gathers her in his arms with one fierce, bruising kiss. Momentum carries him to his feet, and Peg gasps against him as he takes one, two, three steps before he pins her against the wall and takes her in earnest.
"Oh!" Peg sinks one hand in his hair and yanks hard, the other digging into his shoulder. "Oh, God, that's it..."
"Is this what you need?" It's the filthiest and yet most honest question he's ever asked. He needs to know, needs to know now. "You needed my cock just like this, didn't you?"
"Yessss, yes, mmm, so good..." Peggy squeezes her legs around his hips with a whine that trembles with every hard thrust inside her. "Fuck, don't stop. Just like that."
"Yeah?" He barely gives the word voice. BJ's so caught on her expression, watching for the minute flutters as he shifts the angle just a bit more, right to the point where she breaks out in goosebumps with a loud moan. Triumph overtakes him, sweetly spicy on his tongue, and he steals a rough kiss from her, then leans back only an inch so she's still all he sees. "Touch yourself for me. I've got you."
She nods as she loosens her grip on him, trusting him so deeply. In a moment he can feel her hand working between them, and if there's anything he knows about his Peggy, it's that she's fucking dripping for him right now, has plenty of slick to spare as she feverishly rubs her clit. "Oh my God," she whispers, sounding almost stunned.
He can feel it now, the way she's tensing, and his own ecstasy starts bleeding through the edges. It's the tightness of his muscles as he keeps himself perfectly in check for her, it's the way he can smell her arousal and nothing else, it's the tickle of sweat down the back of his neck as he pants, it's the way she arrests him more than any god or church or religion ever could, she's everything, she's everything— "Come for me, Peg," he begs, almost a growl.
And she does with a cry, all arching and gorgeous release, and as she squeezes around his cock, she drags him right along with her. He presses their foreheads together with a desperate moan of his own, grinding against her as she milks every drop out of him, and when she pulls him in for a feverish kiss, he trembles as she bites down on his bottom lip and sucks hard.
Slowly BJ manages to turn them, putting his back against the bedroom wall and sliding down inch by inch until he's sitting with her in his lap. He gathers her to his chest as tight as he can, still trying to catch his breath, still absolutely wrung out. "Good?" he finally manages to ask.
Peg lifts her head, staring at him as though to ask, "Are you serious?"
He chuckles and pulls her in for a longer kiss, feeling the last bit of his tension evaporate away.