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They lay on the bed, facing each other, sated from an intense lovemaking session. A bottle of red wine sits on the side table, two empty glasses alongside it. They should be sleepy but both are wide awake and in the mood to talk. Peggy isn’t sure how they got on the subject of first times, but they did, and it was turning out to be quite enlightening.
“So the guys thought it would be a great idea to go into town and find a bar,” Daniel says with a laugh. “I was young and stupid, so I went along with it. What I didn’t know was that we were heading to a brothel. A few of the guys had been there before and thought it would be hilarious to take some of us young’uns and get us indoctrinated.”
“Indoctrinated?”
“Apparently French prostitutes are legendary for their… techniques. They can do amazing things with their mouths.”
“So that’s where the hickey comment came from.”
He nods. “They weren’t the prettiest women, or the friendliest, but they did have their talents.”
“I’m sure they did,” she says with a smirk. “I hadn’t heard of their legendary status.”
“Neither had I, but I do have to say, I was a believer after that. That woman, Chanel was her name, she left her mark. Literally. I left there very satisfied and with a hickey the size of Brooklyn on my neck.”
She laughs. “That can't be your only time.”
“Why do you say that?”
She runs a hand over his arm. “You just seem... more experienced.”
“Do I?” He kisses her neck, then her chin. “I had a few… encounters before the war, mostly in the back of my dad’s Oldsmobile. Not the most romantic setting. I think the phrase ‘Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’ was created for that type.” He chuckles. “I admit that I did partake of the French ladies a few more times. After the war… I’m afraid the river dried up.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” she says. “You are such a handsome man, Daniel.”
“Until you look down.”
“Oh, bollocks,” she says sharply. “How could anyone not see what a wonderful man you are?”
“Peggy, you think men are shallow? Believe me, there are plenty of women out there who are just as shallow. As soon as they saw the limp and started asking questions, they suddenly had somewhere to be.”
She shakes her head. “Sometimes I don’t understand people.”
“Neither do I,” he says, his fingers pushing a stray hair from her face. “So what about you? First time?”
“My first time was with a man named Fred Wells. A perfectly pleasant man. Also as boring as one of Jack’s team meetings. Our first and only time was the night of our engagement.”
Daniel’s eyebrows rise. “Wait. You were engaged?”
She nods. “For a brief time. I was young, nineteen, and still trying to please my mum, show her I was a proper English lady.” She lowers her gaze. “I thought that was what I wanted, the military husband, the house with a white picket fence, a gaggle of children. I was fooling myself, as someone very dear to me pointed out.” She pauses, allowing herself a sad smile. “Anyway, Fred convinced me that engaged couples always seal the deal with sex.”
Daniel grins. “Smooth.”
“Yes, that was the only thing he was smooth at. That night was not satisfying in the least. It was awkward, painful and… premature.”
“Ouch,” Daniel says with a laugh.
“Indeed. It did not give me high hopes for the act of sexual relations.”
“Surely it got better for you.”
She tilts her head. “Somewhat. My next encounter was during the war.”
Daniel’s mirthful expression fades. “Captain America.”
“No,” she says forcefully. “Steve Rogers.”
“I thought they were the same guy.”
“Not even close. Captain America is… was… a public persona. Steve Rogers was the real man.”
Daniel lowers his gaze. “I bet that was something.”
“It was,” she says, her hand brushing along his forearm. “It was his first time and I'm afraid he didn't last more than a few minutes.” She smiles. “But he was so endearing, I couldn't be upset. He apologized up one side and down the other. He promised the next time would be better.”
“Was it?”
Her smile turns wistful. “It never happened.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be.” She meets his gaze and wraps her fingers around his hand.
He smiles. “And the next?”
She brings their joined hands to her mouth and kisses his knuckles. “A week ago, in this bed, with a wonderful man. It was neither awkward nor premature.”
“And it was satisfying?”
“Immensely so.” She leans toward him, her lips kissing their way from his neck up to his lips. After a lingering kiss, she leans back, her head against the pillow. “So there was no one else after the war?”
He looks down. “There was one more.”
“Violet.”
He shrugs. “I convinced her that engaged couples seal the deal with sex.”
“Daniel!”
“I’m kidding,” he says, looking at her and smiling. “It was a mutual decision.”
“And it was... good?”
“As good as it could be while making love to one woman and thinking of another.” He shook his head. “I did love her, I really did. I know she loved me. She saw me for who I was, not my missing leg. She gave me back my confidence as a man. For that, I will be forever grateful to her.” He looks away. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
She reaches out and puts a hand on his forearm. “I know you didn’t.”
“I hurt a sweet, kind woman before I realized that I love you, Peggy, with all of my heart.” He raises a hand as she opens her mouth to speak. “You don’t have to say it. I am not expecting anything in return.”
“Daniel...”
“I mean it. I can’t help the way I feel about you. I don’t want to hear the words unless you mean them.”
She lowers her gaze. “Thank you.”
“Um, you’re welcome?” His expression perfectly conveys his confusion.
“No, I mean thank you for loving me.”
He huffs out a laugh. “I’ve never had anyone thank me for that. And it’s not that hard to love you.”
“Yes, it is hard,” she says. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am quite a handful.”
His laugh this time is full-bodied. “That’s the biggest understatement I’ve ever heard.”
She playfully punches his arm, then her expression softens. “For the first time in my life, I feel loved for me. Not the idealized me, not the me I could become. For the real me, warts and all.”
“You don't have any warts, Peggy. Trust me, I've inspected every inch of you.”
She smiles shyly. “I noticed that. But I was being metaphorical.”
“I know you were. We all have faults. It's what makes us who we are. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
“And that is yet another reason why I love you, Daniel.”
He looks surprised. “You do?”
“Of course I do. I mean those words. I love you.” She leans forward and gives him a soft, almost chaste kiss. “Besides, I don’t… give myself to a man unless I have strong feelings for him.”
He nods. “You loved Fred? Steve Rogers?”
“I did. Well, I thought I loved Fred but I think it was more that I loved the attention my mum was giving me for doing what was expected of me. I don’t know that he loved me as much as he loved the idea of having a nice-looking wife on his arm. But I did love Steve. A part of me always will. And I think he loved me, though it may have been more worship than love.”
He smiles. “I’ve been accused of that in the past.”
“You have, but wrongly accused.” Her fingers brush over his tousled hair. “I mistook it as worship. I didn’t know what respect looked like when directed toward me. You didn’t worship me, you respected me.”
“I continue to respect you, every day.”
“I know you do. And I love you all the more for that.”
“I have to admit, Peggy,” he says with a nod, “Steve Rogers is a hard act to follow.” He looks down, but her hand goes to his chin, raising his head and waiting for him to meet her gaze.
“Steve is in my past.” She pauses, her fingers brushing over his cheek. “You, Daniel Sousa, are my present. And, I do hope, my future.”
“I hope so, too.”
They lean into each other at the same time. Their mouths meet, the kiss starting out sweet but quickly growing in intensity and hunger.
Peggy breaks the kiss, pressing her body against his. “So, tell me more about this hickey technique.”