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looks to me like you're just passing through, here today, gone too soon

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Peggy is fairly certain that this is a dead end mission. It’s rather brilliant, really, dropping her in the middle of technically neutral territory where she can’t meddle in any actual events in the war, where she has nobody to really speak to regularly, where she can’t get in anyone’s way but doesn’t actually run the likelihood of getting killed. It wouldn’t be acceptable to let Captain America’s girl get herself offed in a regular battle with regular soldiers in regular circumstances. And on the off chance that this mystical sword that her superiors heard about actually winds up existing and proving valuable, she can make herself useful and grab it for the good side.

She won’t get any public credit for it, of course, because anything mystical is best kept secret from the world at large, but she doesn’t need that. Never has.

Honestly, what she needs is a real task. Something she can sink her teeth into, something she can accomplish and know it’s been done right, something she knows isn’t a waste of time. Something she knows wasn’t just assigned to her by virtue of who she is naturally (a woman) or relationally (the hero’s girlfriend). She has the vaguest of details about her mission (sword based in Germanic, or Nordic, or some sort of European, mythology that the last remaining members of Hydra, not yet caught or brought to heel, might be after) and a last known location (this almost humorously out of the way town in the south of Sweden) and nothing else, and it’s horrid.

Currently, she’s sat on a rock in a clearing, surveying her map and surroundings with equal confusion, trying to make sense of anything. She doesn’t know whether to give this mission her all for the sake of being a good soldier and keeping herself occupied or to only put in the minimal effort since it’s clear that her superiors expect her to achieve nothing anyway.

Then, there’s a commotion so loud she has to put her hands over her ears and close her eyes, and when she opens them again she sees a woman crouching in the center of an intricately burned circle, clad in silver armor and carrying a sword and shield. The woman stands, holding her sword carefully and looks at Peggy as if she can see through her. “Who are you?” she asks.

Peggy squares her shoulders, because she’s not sure what else to do. “Peggy Carter,” she says warily. There are a thousand different questions she has in return, but what she does is echo, “Who are you?

“I am Lady Sif of Asgard. I seek the lost sword Tyrfing, which my King suspects may have surfaced here. It is very dangerous; we cannot allow it to fall into mortal hands.” Sif raises an eyebrow. “I have no time for lies or games. If you are here for the sword as well, you should turn back now.”

“I am here for a sword,” Peggy says, somewhat more hesitantly than she’d like, “but none of the men in charge seem to know what it’s called for true.”

Sif narrows her eyes. “What do you know of it? Anything?”

“We have very little intelligence on it,” Peggy admits. “All we know is that it hails from Northern European mythology.”

Sif blinks. “Your words are strange. But I cannot allow you to take the sword, if it is in fact here. As I said, it is not a matter for mortals.”

Peggy laughs. No is something she’s used to hearing. “Honestly, I’m just here to get it out of the way of some potential Nazi war criminals. Letting you take it is just one way of doing that.”

“Very well,” says Sif, seeming surprised. “I could perhaps allow you to assist me in locating it. If, of course, you swear that you will not touch the sword yourself.”

“What will happen if I do?” Peggy asks, not intending impudence but not exactly devoid of it either.

“You will regret it,” replies Sif, but she smirks slightly once the words are out. “I warn you, I’m not in the habit of suffering insolence.”

“I’m not either,” Peggy replies. All of this is so sudden and odd that she can feel herself slipping into hysteria.

Sif snorts. “Very well, Peggy Carter. Let us set off this way.” She gestures with her sword and then begins to walk briskly away.

Peggy rises, holstering her gun and following along. “So, Lady Sif,” she says. “Exactly where is Asgard? I’m not familiar, despite my travels.”

Sif laughs over her shoulder and replies, “Very far away from your realm, Lady Carter. I would be most astonished if you were familiar with it.”

“I’m no lady,” Peggy counters. “Not properly titled or anything such as. And my realm, hm?”

“My apologies,” Sif says, sounding amused. “What title would you prefer I call you?”

“None needed,” Peggy says almost blithely, because it’s simpler than anything else and really, this isn’t the strangest thing that’s ever happened to her. “Peggy will do. Just Peggy.”

“Peggy,” Sif repeats, slowing down just enough so Peggy can walk beside her. “Very well. And just who are you here on behalf of, Peggy?”

“Primarily, the Strategic Scientific Reserve,” Peggy says. “I shouldn’t be worrying that you’re some sort of enemy spy, should I? That cacophony I heard wasn’t your descent from a zeppelin or some such?”

“I do not know what this ‘zeppelin’ is, but I mean your world no harm. In fact, I am here to protect it from unspeakable horrors befalling it. From what you’ve said, I believe we may be allies in this.”

“Only certain unspeakable horrors, or all of them?” Peggy asks, unable to stop herself.

Sif chuckles. “As many as possible, truth be told. This sword has the potential to cause great destruction if it falls into the wrong hands.”

“And what do you know, then, of what you call ‘my world’?” Peggy presses. “Your idea of the wrong hands may be vague, but one thing my superiors have is a very real idea of whose they might be.”

“We’ve been monitoring your world for some time now,” Sif says. “What happens in one realm may affect other realms, so we wish to ensure that any dangers your realm faces does not become a threat to others. My people are...guardians, of sorts.”

“Comforting, I’m sure, but that doesn’t answer my question completely.” Peggy sighs. “We’re facing some rather large danger of late.”

Sif nods. “We are aware of that. It is part of why the loss of Tyrfing concerns us so. My King is anxious to avoid the possibility of Hydra’s capturing it and using it to conquer and destroy your world.”

Peggy turns to meet Sif’s eyes for a moment. “I am glad that you’re aware, though if you know of Hydra I doubt that puts my world in a very good light,” she says, more solemn than she intends.

“Perhaps,” replies Sif, returning her gaze, “but as with any people, yours are capable of both great evil and goodness.”

“Yes,” Peggy murmurs, frowning suddenly. “Well, some of us do try, anyway.”

“And are you one of them?”

“Trying, yes,” Peggy says. “Doing as best I can in the circumstances.”

Sif nods. “That is reassuring. I suppose I have been fortunate to encounter you here.”

“I’d like to think I’m better than the alternative, anyway,” Peggy chuckles, albeit darkly.

Sif also chuckles. “Indeed.” Then she falls silent, freezing. “I believe I hear voices ahead,” she murmurs. “We best be cautious.”

“I expect it’s Hydra,” Peggy sighs. “Not exactly light on their feet, most of them.”

“I plan to be light on mine,” Sif says, unsheathing her sword.

Peggy raises an eyebrow. “Not exactly the common choice of weapon around these parts,” she points out, mostly as a warning.

“People tend not to ask questions when they’ve been impaled,” replies Sif with a smirk.

“True enough,” Peggy agrees. “You… are aware of guns, though?” She’s suddenly doubtful, given everything that’s happened just now.

Sif tilts her head. “Perhaps not by that name. Explain them to me?”

Quickly and carefully, Peggy unholsters her own - nothing too large or bulky, just a simple piece - and holds it out. “Aim it, pull the trigger, that’s this right here,” she murmurs, “and out comes a bullet. Small metal thing, goes very fast and very hard, hopefully at one’s target. The wound won’t be as large as one you could cause with your sword, but it could be even deadlier.”

“I have not encountered these in my visits to Midgard before,” Sif says, “but I think they will not do the same harm to me that they will to Midgardians. My people are much less easily harmed than yours.”

‘That so?” Peggy asks, an almost-flirtatious tease in her voice. “What’s the reason for that?”

“Reason?” Sif laughs. “What has reason to do with it? We are hardier, stronger, and more physically resilient than your people, and naturally we live longer. I hadn’t thought to question any reason for it.”

“Strange,” Peggy says. “And everyone from your Asgard fits this?”

Nodding, Sif replies, “We may live for millenia, barring any serious battle wounds. And we heal much more quickly than Midgardians as well, so it would have to be a very serious wound.”

“Midgardians being ordinary humans like myself,” Peggy supposes.

“Yes.” Then, copying Peggy’s earlier teasing tone, Sif asks, “Do you know of many extraordinary humans that might be an exception?”

“Just one,” Peggy says, a little too quickly. “But he’s gone now. Crash-landing in ice tends to be such a very serious thing.” She sounds more glib than she feels, but it’s probably not a good ruse. She doesn’t care enough.

Sif frowns. “Oh, I did not mean to make light of something painful that happened to you.”

“It’s all right,” Peggy says. “I don’t think I know how to respond yet, no matter how anyone reminds me of him.”

“Even so, I regret any pain I have caused you, Peggy.” Sif seems about to say more, but then the distinct sound of men’s voices comes toward them. “Ah, there they are,” she says, gripping her sword hilt.

Peggy nods, switching off the safety on her gun. “Let’s pray they haven’t found that sword,” she mutters.

The forest provides them with enough cover that they can slip toward the voices unnoticed. Finally, they spot a small group of men standing together, one of whom is holding a long sword with a golden hilt.

Sif curses under her breath. “That is Tyrfing, the sword I seek,” she says. “We must retrieve it from them before they can use it for great evil.”

“Tyrfing,” Peggy repeats, though it sounds clumsy on her tongue. “What do you know of Hydra, Sif?”

“We know that it is an organization full of powerful men. And we know that they use their power to control and terrorize those weaker than themselves. Alas, even if we were to involve every warrior in Asgard, I’m not sure we could put an end to their evil.”

“What they are is a group of rotten bastards bent on subjugating and extinguishing everyone who doesn’t suit their ideals, in fact,” Peggy says venomously. “All I can hope for is to take as many of them out as I can before they get the chance to try.”

Sif grins. “I certainly have faith in your abilities. Shall we give them a surprise?”

“I insist on it,” Peggy smirks. “Care to start?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Sif says, leaping out of the bushes to put the man holding the gold-hilted sword at the point of her own blade. “Drop the sword and allow me to leave with it, and no harm will come to you and your men,” she announces.

Peggy, meanwhile, points her gun at the other three, part-challenge and part-threat.

The one holding the sword looks more than a little shocked, but one of the others laughs. “And what will you do about it, missy?”

Without missing a beat, Sif slashes one of her target’s cheeks. It doesn’t look that deep, but he shrieks. “I would not test my mettle if I were you.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about going easy on these men,” Peggy tells Sif.

“Then I won’t,” Sif says, eyes gleaming, and when the man attempts to pick up the sword and swing it at her, she easily knocks it from his hand and then slices his hand off. One of his companions yells and draws his gun, but he barely gets one shot in before she runs him through with her sword.

The two remaining men glance at each other before one of them draws on Peggy, shouting something vague and nationalistic (as usual). She promptly shoots him in the chest, but the distracts her long enough that the other man can run at her. Before Sif can do anything to help, Peggy and the Hydra soldier start in punching, kicking, and trying to disarm each other.

Satisfied that her companion has it well under control, Sif turns back to the now one-handed man, who has gone white as a sheet and is staggering away while attempting to stop the bleeding. She doesn’t let him get far, stabbing him in the back and then running back over to assist Peggy. Together, they work to end the last soldier, who - truth told - makes a spectacular ass of himself before doing the sensible thing and succumbing to their killing blows.

Sif turns to Peggy, grinning. “I suppose now we shall leave them for the crows and other beasts to dispose of,” she says, going to retrieve the sword from where it fell.

“Seems fitting,” Peggy smirks, glancing disdainfully at the corpses as she hauls herself up.

“Are you injured?”

“Nothing too serious, I don’t think,” Peggy hums, though when she stands she’s favoring her left ankle. “Scratches and the like. I’ll manage.”

“You’re limping,” Sif says. “It will do you no good to hide it. I know rudimentary techniques in wound dressing, I can assist you.”

Peggy frowns down at her ankle as if it’s betrayed her somehow. “I’d appreciate that,” she says, because she knows better than to deny it.

Sif cleans her sword on the ground as best she can and sheathes it, carrying the other sword carefully in one hand. “Have you somewhere nearby we can take shelter?” she asks. “It would be best to be indoors.”

“I’ve a cabin not far from here,” Peggy nods. “It should be equipped with all you need.”

“Excellent,” says Sif, coming alongside Peggy. “You can lean on me for support if you wish.”

Peggy feels her cheeks growing hot as she arranges herself accordingly and murmurs, “It would probably be wise.”

“You fought well, Peggy,” Sif adds. “I do not think I have ever had a battle partner quite like you.”

“Thank you,” Peggy says, clearly pleased with herself. “I would say the same, but I’m fairly sure it’s obvious. You’re remarkable.”

Sif tosses her head. “Thank you. Indeed, it was an honor to fight alongside you, even in so short and simple a battle.”

Oh, Peggy’s surely blushing by now, likely bright red. “You’re too kind.”

Sif grins. “You are unaccustomed to compliments?”

The obvious answer is yes , given her less than enthusiastic colleagues, but that would seem too pathetic, so instead Peggy just says, “Unused to them from someone of your stature, anyway.”

“That is a shame,” says Sif. “If you were Asgardian, we would revere you as the skilled warrior you are.”

“Asgard must be a different sort of place, then,” Peggy mutters, trying to shrug that off.

“Perhaps,” Sif says. “I hope you will not think me too forward. I merely wish to express my admiration and...interest.”

Peggy blinks, somehow even more surprised. “You aren’t,” she says, voice soft. “I just continue to be taken aback.”

“Even in Asgard, I have not met many women who fight as well as you do. It’s quite thrilling.” Sif smirks at her. “But do let me know if my attentions are misdirected, and I will offer you healing and then leave without pressing you further.”

“They’re not,” Peggy insists, more firmly this time. “I’m really quite honored, is all. Come, the cabin is this way.” She nods in the appropriate direction.

Sif helps her along, and after a moment says, “Thank you for your aid in retrieving Tyrfing. I feel that the least I can do is offer you some aid and comfort for your troubles.” She winks.

“Of course,” Peggy says. “If it’s really so dangerous, I did the only thing I could have.” She pauses, smiles coyly. “But I won’t say no to your gratitude, whatever forms it takes.”

“I should like to use my mouth on you, if you would permit it.” Sif’s eyes gleam.

Peggy hums, clearly approving. “I don’t think I would do anything but permit it,” she says.



Once they arrive and are safely inside the cabin, Sif puts the sword out of the way and then insists Peggy sit on the bed and elevate her leg while she hunts for first aid supplies. She returns a few minutes later with a wrap bandage and some ice from the fridge. “These supplies are somewhat primitive, but better than nothing,” she says.

Peggy rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “I think it’s meant to be a test of my endurance,” she says. “Send me out to nowhere with nothing. Will I prevail?” She scoffs. “The answer is yes, unfortunately.”

Sif chuckles, kneeling to begin working on Peggy’s leg. “It’s truly unfortunate that your people do not value you, and send you on fool’s errands. I would like to make up for that a bit, if I may.”

“You may,” Peggy agrees. “I don’t mind at all.”

“After I finish this, then,” Sif says. “Would you like to remove your trousers yourself, or would you prefer help? We may as well speed things along for a bit later.” She smirks.

“If I’m to be resting, I suppose help would be the thing,” Peggy says wryly. “Normally I’d cringe at the thought.”

“Understandable,” Sif says. “I trust that you’re usually capable of this yourself.” Following Peggy’s lead, she helps to slide her pants off once Peggy’s undone the buttons.

“If I weren’t, I doubt you’d have found me so well-equipped before,” Peggy jokes.

“True,” nods Sif. Then she begins icing and wrapping Peggy’s ankle. “Tell me if I’m hurting you further.”

“It’s tight, but that’s how it’s meant to be,” Peggy murmurs. “I imagine you’ve practiced this plenty over time.”

Sif shrugs. “In Asgard, we have healers to care for us. I learned only the basic skills. But if you’re asking whether I injure myself frequently - well, I am in the healing chambers as much as any other warrior of Asgard.”

“Healing chambers!” Peggy exclaims, eyes going wide. “What on earth happens there? It sounds like something they’d come up with for the radio.”

That makes Sif laugh. “I should think it would be self-explanatory. They’re where the healers care for the injured. We have many advanced procedures and medical tools on Asgard - your people would thrill to see our healers at work, I’m sure.”

“Well, yes, but - that’s what I’m wondering about,” Peggy says, pushing herself up on her hands eagerly. “What specifically happens. The procedures, the tools.”

“Ah, of course,” Sif says. “I’d be happy to give you more details...later.” She starts to kiss up Peggy’s uninjured leg slowly. “But I think perhaps we can make better use of our time at the moment?”

“I’m in no position to argue,” Peggy whispers, watching Sif curiously.

Sif keeps kissing, until she gets to Peggy’s underwear. “I’m assuming it’s alright if I take these off?” she teases.

“Strictly speaking, you wouldn’t have to,” Peggy jokes, “but it is the traditional thing.”

“I’d feel cheated out of such a lovely sight, if I did,” says Sif, grinning and easing them down Peggy’s legs gently. Once the underwear are off, she tosses them away and pauses to ask, “Did you want to undress yourself fully?”

Peggy bites back a softer smile and nods. “I’d better,” she says, quickly unbuttoning her blouse and removing her bra. “You’re lucky. Most days this process would take so long you’d probably get fed up.”

“Oh, nonsense,” says Sif with a laugh. “I am accustomed to waiting for my partners to remove their armor. I doubt very much your Midgardian clothes would be enough to test my patience.”

“Have you ever had to muck around with corsets?” Peggy asks. “I’ve only rarely had to use a real one, but they’re frustrating in times like these, to say the least.”

“I’m not familiar with that term, but I have encountered a wide variety of women’s undergarments in my life,” replies Sif. “And I’m sure that, as irksome as they may be, you would be breathtaking in one.”

“Thank you,” Peggy laughs. “Mostly it’s just that they take so long to undo. Like the laces on boots, but worse.”

“Ah, those,” says Sif with a knowing smile. “Indeed, they are cumbersome. Entirely worth it, though.” She leans up to kiss each of Peggy’s breasts in turn.

Peggy hums, obviously pleased. “They are,” she agrees. “Might I… more of that?”

“Of course,” agrees Sif, starting to kiss across them. “You are gorgeous, Peggy.”

“As are you,” Peggy murmurs. “Though I’m sure I’m not the first one to tell you that.”

“No, but it is no less pleasing to hear.” Sif leans down to mouth at Peggy’s nipple, then asks, “Is this alright?”

“More than,” Peggy says. “God, that’s fantastic, in fact.”

Chuckling, Sif sucks the nipple into her mouth, humming happily, and circles her tongue around it. While her mouth is occupied, she reaches to stroke Peggy’s other breast.

And with that sort of attention, it’s all Peggy can do not to outright wail. Instead she digs her fingernails into Sif’s shoulder, tries just to focus.

Sif murmurs in satisfaction and continues to suck on Peggy for a little longer before switching to the other breast. She pauses to murmur, “You taste wonderful.”

“You’re beating me to all the best compliments,” Peggy complains playfully.

Sif laughs, letting Peggy’s breast fall from her mouth long enough to reply, “I assure you they’re meant sincerely.”

“Well, thank you,” Peggy says. “It’s been… long enough, shall we say, that I’m very glad of hearing them.”

“Good,” Sif says, lavishing attention on her breasts for a while before asking playfully, “Is there anywhere else you’d like me?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Peggy replies archly.

“All the same, I thought it polite to ask.” Sif grins. “But very well.” She strokes down Peggy’s body, teasing her by not quite touching her center yet.

“Do I need to say please, very sweetly?” Peggy asks, smirking.

Sif smirks right back at her. “I wouldn’t mind it,” she says, playing innocent.

“Oh, please, Sif?” Peggy whispers, putting on a similar air. “That sounds so wonderful.”

Snickering, Sif slides down and murmurs, “Not used to it, are you?” before leaning in to lap at Peggy experimentally.

“Not as used to it as I’d like,” Peggy smirks, though it’s not really funny.

“Pity,” Sif hums against her flesh, “let me help you with that.” Then she goes to work, licking and sucking at Peggy in turn.

Peggy lets out a sharp exhale of breath. “I’m not holding too tight, am I?” she asks.

“No, it’s perfectly acceptable,” Sif says, flicking her tongue at Peggy’s bud.

“Good,” Peggy says, biting her lip with the effort not to scream.

Sif notices this and teases, “You needn’t remain quiet on my account. I’d like to hear that you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Good,” Peggy repeats, sounding breathy; this soon gives way to a moan of pleasure.

Satisfied with this, Sif continues, slipping her tongue inside Peggy after a little while.

“More of that,” Peggy insists, shifting her hips up.

Sif grabs onto Peggy’s hips and, as instructed, keeps moving her tongue, slightly faster.

“Yes,” Peggy murmurs, “please, yes, just keep going with that.”

“Mhm,” says Sif, nodding.

It’s not much longer before Peggy shouts and shudders through her climax, body going limp underneath Sif’s. “Remarkable,” she murmurs when she’s finally still.

Sif takes a moment to clean her, then grins up at Peggy. “You think so?” she asks. “I’m glad it was enjoyable.”

“It was very much that,” Peggy promises. “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” Sif says, eyes gleaming. “I can’t say I find pleasuring a woman to be difficult, but I’m glad you appreciated it.”

“I did,” Peggy agrees. “I’ve found it’s difficult enough to find other women interested in… engaging in such a way, and it’s difficult to find men who are any good at that particular act.”

Sif snorts. “That’s not surprising. I’ve had a man or two who is adequate, but as they generally don’t have an intimate acquaintance with our anatomy, they seem to get overwhelmed.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Peggy jokes. “I’m not sure how it is for you back home, but a lot of men here don’t even seem inclined to consider giving pleasure that won’t allow them to receive it simultaneously.”

“I’m afraid it’s much the same in Asgard,” Sif says dryly. “Some of them are more considerate, but not many. It’s why I tend to prefer female partners.”

“A fair point,” Peggy says. “Are they easier to find than they are here? I’ve been lucky enough, I suppose, but the taboo of it tends to scare some women off.”

Sif laughs. “I suppose I’ve the advantage, as many of my partners have been from...other places. I’ve been fortunate to not go lonely for too long, but most Asgardian women do tend to prefer the company of men.”

“They say most women do, in general, but then here, they also say it’s criminal or a sort of mental deformity, sometimes,” Peggy sighs.

“I’m sorry,” Sif says, making a face. “I cannot imagine how small-minded one would have to be to associate such traits with an attraction to women. It may not be the norm in Asgard, but it is not frowned upon either.”

“Oh, it’s the same for men and men,” Peggy mutters. “Anything beyond the ‘norm’ of sexual attraction. Appalling, really. But there are so many conventions that are.”

“Unfortunate.” Sif shakes her head. “Anyhow, I hope I can help take your mind off of that and everything else, for awhile.”

“You’re very good at it,” Peggy promises. “Might I reciprocate? I wouldn’t want to be greedy.”

Sif nods, grinning. “Please. How were you thinking?”

Peggy shrugs, grinning. “However wouldn’t tax me too much in my present condition, I suppose,” she says.

“Very well. Are you acquainted with the position where you are on your back and I come up to straddle your face?”

Peggy smirks. “You could say that,” she hums.

“Then I think that would be best.” Sif slides back to allow Peggy to stretch out.

“As you like,” Peggy murmurs, moving back and making herself comfortable.

Sif allows her to settle herself before carefully moving to sit on Peggy’s face, grinning. “Is this to your liking?”

“Yes,” Peggy says, tipping her head back far enough that she can still be understood. “Very much. I’d like to make you happy.”

“Thank you,” murmurs Sif. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Peggy nods and presses her mouth right to Sif’s center, careful at first, exploratory.

Sif leans against Peggy’s mouth, sighing. “No need to be gentle with me if you’d rather not,” she says, teasing.

“Might I work up to it?” Peggy asks, smirking.

“I won’t complain,” Sif says, tossing her head. “I merely wanted to make sure you knew that you needn’t be cautious.”

Peggy nods. “I rather figured, but thank you,” she murmurs, and she moves to kiss Sif’s bud, suckling just a bit.

Sif squirms a bit. “That’s quite nice,” she says.

“Good,” Peggy mumbles, increasing her efforts and bringing her hands up to rest on Sif’s thighs.

“Mmm,” Sif hums. “So far you’re quite talented yourself, Peggy.”

“Thank you,” Peggy says. After the slightest of pauses, she starts to lick over Sif’s center more thoroughly, slowly up and down.

Sif starts to rock against Peggy’s mouth, letting a moan slip out after a little while. “More of that, if you please.”

Peggy hums agreement and works on doing just that, increasing her speed and pressure curiously.

“Yes, that’s wonderful,” sighs Sif. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Peggy murmurs, shutting her eyes as she focuses on Sif’s reactions.

Sif groans and gasps, “Keep going, that’s-”

“Yes?” Peggy asks, clearly smug as she does, in fact, keep going.

Yes ,” whimpers Sif, tangling her fingers in Peggy’s hair.

Peggy groans, clearly pleased, and she licks and sucks and kisses to her heart’s content. It’s been a while since she’s gotten to do this, and she’s never gotten to do for someone like Sif.

Sif keeps moving against Peggy and eventually lets out a loud, throaty moan as Peggy brings her. “Well done,” she gasps. “Shall I climb off you now?”

“If you please,” Peggy says, laughing breathlessly.

Sif does, sprawling out next to Peggy and reaching to pull her forward for a kiss. “You’re magnificent,” she says.

“Thank you,” Peggy hums, chancing to nuzzle into Sif’s neck for a moment.

Sif chuckles. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for particularly affectionate,” she says, not meanly.

“I’ve learned to take closeness where I can get it,” Peggy replies, meaning it as an offhand remark but finding it surprisingly true once she’s said it.

“Well, I certainly can’t argue with that.” Sif rests her arm across Peggy’s abdomen and curls up next to her. “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” Peggy says. “You’re much softer than you seem.”

Snorting, Sif says, “Not for just anyone. You should feel honored.”

“Believe me, I do,” Peggy promises. “Utterly and completely.”

Sif reaches up to stroke her hair. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Not immediately, anyway,” Peggy says. “I’m content.”

“Good,” murmurs Sif. “Oh, you wanted more details on Asgardian healing chambers, didn’t you? I can provide that for you now, if you like.”

“Please!” Peggy says eagerly. “It’s not as if I have anywhere to share the information, but I’m curious.”

Sif nods. “Of course. Would you like some sustenance first? I can see what this dwelling has in the way of nourishment.”

“Oh, there’s not much, but you’re welcome to it,” Peggy says. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to eat something. Keep our energy up.” She smiles cheekily.

“Are you thinking we’ll need our energy for other things?” teases Sif.

“I’m not ruling it out,” Peggy replies.

“I can’t say I object to that idea,” Sif says with a wink, climbing gracefully off the bed and then lingering in the doorway for a moment. “I am only sorry I cannot stay longer than a night. This has been...much more enjoyable than I anticipated.”

“Likewise,” Peggy laughs. “I’ll have fun keeping this secret, I’m sure.”