"Come on, Steve, ride in the car," Peggy invites as she holds the door open for the wheezing soldier.
Though doubled over with his hands braced on his knees, Steve wipes the sweat off from under his helmet and shakes his head.
"No thank you, ma'am. I'll run home like everybody else."
Peggy closes her stance, her lips pursing a touch as she altercates with all the scathing things she could say to make the scrawny boy see reason.
"That's an order, soldier," she declares instead.
Steve straightens up slowly, aware he can't argue with that and harbouring no intention to do so.
He nods his thanks to Peggy for holding the door open for him and clambers into the passenger seat with the ungainliness of an underweight panda.
"I would'a been last, again," Steve states unequivocally.
Peggy glances at him for a moment to clarify whether there's any distress in his eyes over that fact.
"Shouldn't I be pushin' this car as punishment instead of riding in it?"
Peggy snorts, shaking her head in disbelief.
"If you can't keep up with the troop on an evening run without nearly rupturing a lung, what makes you think you could push a quarter tonne vehicle?"
There was the sharp bite Steve was looking for. He wanted to hear it from her somehow. He needed to be told frequently that he had no chance, otherwise he'd start to believe it.
"Just testing," Steve smirks.
Peggy tries not to smirk too, but she's growing rather fond of the plucky little punk.
"I'm sure we can think of other ways to punish you, since you're so eager to pay your dues." Her red lips hint at something Steve thinks he understands.
"Oh yeah? Gunna' make me scrub the toilets an' polish everyone's boots?"
"Hm," Peggy smiles, tightening her grip on the wheel as she looks ahead, "something like that."
As per his own suggestion, Steve is sanctioned to the toilets after being denied dinner. He cleans the latrine on his hands and knees with a toothbrush, and gives everyone's boots a spit and polish.
Many times already he has demanded punishment in the form of laps or extra push-ups, and even fought Peggy on the withholding of such sanctions. He saw reason once she explained to him that pushing him past his asthma attacks and rheumatism would only knacker his body, and so he would just have to bloody-well come to terms with the fact that he was exempt.
"We prefer not to kill our soldiers before they actually reach the war," was something along the lines of what Colonel Phillips had said, and Steve supposed that was fair after all.
It has certainly forced Peggy to become inventive with punishments that are befitting of Steve's physical limitations, though.
He'd of course be eager to do anything, as only an honest-hearted fool like Steve could be. He knows he can't make up for his poor fitness scores, but he's not shy to accept that it's a fault, and so punishment feels fulfilling in its own way. It's an oddly encouraging jab that reminds him he's just like everyone else here; not pitied or coddled for his illnesses, he'll be punished like any unfit soldier should be.
He makes the mistake of trying to knock on the tent fabric, and clears his throat in embarrassment, accidentally alerting Peggy to his presence anyway.
"Um—Ah!" He quickly stands to attention and salutes, "I'm done with my chores, ma'am."
"Excellent, come on in then. It's time for your punishment," Peggy says chirpily.
"Punishment? I thought that was it?" Steve wonders aloud, following her regardless.
Unsure if it's an answer, but certainly distracted by it, Steve is met by a table adorned with enough food to cater a banquet in Asgard.
"Sit down, soldier," Peggy directs with a broad hand gesture.
Steve swallows apprehensively. He's definitely hungry, having not eaten since lunch, but he notices on closer inspection that there's an excess of filling dishes. Lots of mashed potato and boiled cabbage, some meat— that's quite the rare indulgence out here— then a salmagundi of desserts. Fluffy trifle, Victoria sponge cake, pure buttercream, and his favourite: stewed apple pie.
"Um... wh-what is all this? If you don't mind my asking," Steve speaks up.
"This? Like I said," Peggy maintains, "it's your punishment."
Steve eyes the display with wariness, but he's not distrusting of Peggy.
"Come on, soldier," she reiterates, pulling a chair out, "have a seat."
The cogs are turning. Steve is trying to find some kind of correlation between food and punishment, but he obeys Peggy first and foremost.
"W-wait," he speaks up as she begins tying his wrists to the arms of the chair, "what's happening?"
There's fear in his voice. Fear from realising that, actually, he doesn't want to be in pain, should this be a physical punishment.
"Peggy, wait—" Steve hiccups, trying to twist his skinny little wrists free of the rope, "please I—"
"Steve..." Peggy calms him, cupping his face as she bows to his level.
Steve stills, looking up: so deliciously helpless. As is befitting of his tiny, frail stature.
Peggy frowns a little, her lips twitching into a small pout. "Are you afraid?" she tests.
Steve is quiet as his gaze slips away from hers a few times to seek refuge from her intensity. He wriggles to try the give of his bindings again but sags in retirement when he finds he's still no closer to freeing himself.
"W-what's all the food for? Are ya' gunna'... what are ya' gunna' do to me?" He sounds resigned to his fate despite it being a question, clearly unable to fathom what's to come.
Peggy smiles and crouches so that she is looking up at Steve, but despite the change in levels, Steve doesn't feel like this new vantage gives him even an ounce of dominance over her.
"I'm going to feed you, you skinny little thing," she explains, gently prodding his practically concave stomach.
Steve blinks, loosening up with relief.
"Feed me?" He huffs a short laugh. "Do I gotta' be tied up for that, can't I feed myself?"
Peggy keeps her red lips pressed together to restrain a smile, resorting to biting her lip as she shakes her head slowly.
For some reason the response makes Steve's face feel hot, and his gaunt cheeks take on some colour.
"No, but you can choose what you want to eat first," Peggy then explains, gazing over to the lush table.
Steve is certainly starving, and it all looks so good.
"Um... I... you should choose," he decides after some mumbling.
"My, we are feeling submissive tonight," Peggy remakes as she stands to her full height, watching him over her shoulder as she saunters to the spread.
Steve doesn't know the full extent of the inference, but it makes him blush anyway.
He watches her meekly as she arranges a plate, his eyes straying from the movement of her hands to the curvature of her back and the breadth of her hips in that neat skirt. He squeezes his legs together, dissuading the thoughts that even a clothed female form stir in him.
It makes him ashamed and guilty, but there's a need inside that he hates being unable to ignore no matter how he tries to divert his attention.
"Here you are." Peggy's chipper tone snaps him out of it sharpish, and he deliberates over meeting her gaze. The ropes aren't helping his situation either. He doesn't know what it is but the tight, restricting sensation is making him feel giddy.
"Open wide," Peggy encourages, offering him the first forkful.
Steve has gone all sheepish, but he does as he's told and lets Peggy feed him.
Now that fucks him up. He's certain that it's not just pins and needles this time when his cock jumps in his pants, and it's all he can do to grip the chair arms until his knuckles turn white.
"Open up again," Peggy continues, but Steve daren't. He refuses.
Peggy frowns. "Come on, soldier, we've barely started. You can't be full already."
Steve pleads with a closed mouth, shaking his head again. He's not at all full, but if she keeps on praising him he's going to have a very embarrassing time of it and she should be terribly offended if that happened in her presence.
How little the poor boy knows.
Peggy straightens up again and hitches an eyebrow. She then sets the plate down, taking only the fork with food on it and holding it threateningly to Steve's thinly drawn lips before pinching his nose.
Steve whimpers in his throat as he starts to run out of air, and inevitably gasps for it when his weak lungs betray him. And of course, Peggy takes the opportunity to force more food into his mouth.
"I didn't think I'd have to resort to that so early on," she berates.
"It's not because I'm not hungry!" Steve cries as tears well in his eyes. "It's because you're... it's doing things to me!"
"What things?" Peggy investigates, concerned for a moment that she's hurting him. She crouches again at his feet, but this only prompts Steve to press his legs even tighter together. Then Peggy gets it.
"It's making me f-feel..." he still can't say it, but his red face and the fat tears and the way he pulls his spindly little body in on itself says everything.
"Open your legs, Steve."
"No, no!" the tiny soldier protests, eyes creased with a tight wince as he shakes his head again.
Peggy separates his knock-knees herself and with very little difficulty, earning a gasp from Steve before he flurries to his own defence with apologies.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm not a pervert, I swear! I don't know why it's happening, I'm sorry! I can't help it, I'm sorry Peggy!"
"Steve," Agent Carter sympathises, giving him a reassuring look. "That's good," she coos, slowly rising and leaning over him to kiss his forehead. "That's what I want from you, soldier."
"Huh?" Steve hiccups in confusion, searching her face with frantic, waterlogged eyes.
"I want you to get excited. It's okay to."
"B-but isn't this punishment?" Steve presses.
"It is... but it's a kind of punishment I want you to enjoy~"
Her lazy purr and the elegance with which she goes to retrieve his unfinished plate gives Steve just enough of a hint.
He gasps and sits up a little, his cheeks glowing red again.
"Is this— are we— fondu?" he stammers.
Peggy can't prevent herself from laughing at him. The scales of boldness and naivety are never balanced with Steve; he is constantly weighing in as one or the other but seemingly never both at the same time. It's adorable. He's adorable.
"Come on," Peggy grins, gathering her decorum, "open wide."
Steve does so with a sniffle, his eyelashes damp with tears but a clear eagerness to obey as he leans forward to meet Peggy as she offers him the fork.
"That's a good boy~" she rewards him, noting the soft grunt and the way Steve pulls against his restraints and squeezes his thighs together in response to the phrase.
Content that his excitement isn't unwarranted or to be rebuked, Steve eats and eats until his stomach is straining.
"You're doing so well, Steve. I must say I didn't think such a tiny little thing like yourself could hide such a huge appetite."
"Heh... maybe there's a few things I'm hiding," Steve parries.
"We'll see," Peggy smiles, maintaining her status over him even with his well-timed attempt at flirtatious banter. "If you're going to be our super soldier, we'll need you to bulk up."
Steve huffs another laugh, unable to refuse a challenge when it comes with such rewards as being told he's a good boy and hearing he has impressed Peggy. Even though he was full about one plate ago...
"That's it, good boy."
It's like a spur in his side, urging him to keep on pleasing every time he thinks he's too full. But he really is too full. He's already fighting acid reflux.
"Ready?" Peggy asks. Not actually a question, just a brief warning as she swaps out his third empty plate for a generous slice of Victoria Sponge.
Steve tries not to grimace. He opens his mouth, replaying each word of praise in his head to get him through it.
His tummy hurts with a fullness he's never known. It's so distended that it's pressing against his erection, and Peggy notices him falter when she moves onto the apple pie.
"It's your favourite," she prods, her head turned a little as if awaiting his protest. She takes a moment then to regard the state of Steve. His ribs are still visible but now they look like a corset that has ruptured around the waist and allowed Steve's huge swollen gut to spill out.
She withdraws, considering if he's going to pass out from overindulgence.
"Mm... it's my favourite," Steve confirms, his chin tucked to his chest to stop himself from gagging at the concept of swallowing anything else. But his desire to appease Peggy is overwhelming, and so he fights for a breath before slowly lifting his head and opening his mouth expectantly.
"Steve," Peggy reasons with him.
"I can take— I can take it," he heaves, hanging his head to reserve the strength in his neck and letting it sway lethargically like he's drunk on a full belly of food.
"You did it, Steve," Peggy concedes. "I thought you'd give up ages ago, but you proved me wrong."
Her confession isn't doleful at all. It's more as if she's placating him. Stroking his ego and appealing to the bullheaded male in him.
But Steve isn't like that, and he plays back.
"I told ya'," he says, a little slurred. "I was hungry."
Peggy smiles, looking like she got what she wanted. Steve is as stubborn as her, and conveniently as much a masochist as she is a sadist.
"Well, alright," she chirps like it's his funeral and she's not at all happy to oblige.
Steve goes on to finish the apple pie, but he's passing the phase of tolerable nausea.
He swallows thickly when he sees Peggy ponder over the next dessert. She's feeling cruel, and he almost says no when she picks up the bowl of buttercream, but then she says, "open wide, good boy," and that's all it takes.
The soft lull of praise, and he forgets that he's just eaten more food than every soldier in the battalion has for the entire time they've been here.
He jostles with the urge to carry on and the pleas of his body begging for a reprieve. Three spoonfuls of the sickly mixture though, and his rationality wins him over, only here at the very end of his limits.
"Uh~ I'm f-I'm full, Peggy," he groans.
"Full? So soon?" She goads.
Steve huffs; head hung again in defeat as he nods and bows to her iron-will. Perhaps he'd secretly hoped to hold onto his victory by relying on Peggy's sensibility. He'd hoped she'd call the shots and not let him carry on like an idiot.
But the rules are different here. Peggy isn't obliged to curb his recklessness and if anything, it's certainly been a memorable lesson in where unrelenting stubbornness will get him.
"Y'know... you can be a real bully when ya' want to," he jibes with the last tether of his punk attitude.
His poor little tummy is bursting. He looks pregnant.
Peggy is too tempted to rub it, and when she does Steve lets out a low heave at the way even a minute bit of pressure pushes on his organs and forces air out of his lungs.
"Is that nice?" She smiles at him knowingly.
Steve hiccups a soft whimper and nods, rolling his head drowsily as she continues to rub his full tummy in big, soothing circles.
"Have you learned your lesson?" Peggy then asks. Her voice is never harsh or provocative. It's soft and forgiving like summer rain.
Steve shakes his head. "Hell no, ma'am."
Peggy stops rubbing his belly and blinks up at him, "what?" and Steve leans forward, making his stomach ache as he squashes it up under his ribs, causing him to wince defiantly.
"I want more. More punishment."
Peggy knows exactly how she wants to punish him; she's been starving to see the response that touching his virgin body would yield.
"Not bad, soldier. You're one tough cookie," she admits, lowering her eyes as she begins tugging down his combats.
She pulls out his diamond-hard dick, and Steve mouths something with a tremble; watching her for any kind of repulsion.
Peggy gives the generous length a slow stroke, measuring up the feel of it and the time is takes to reach his hilt. She feels it jump in her hand; hot and veiny and already leaking.
"You're pretty big."
"H-how do you know?" Steve heaves softly.
"How... how d'ya' know if I'm pretty big or not?"
"Believe me, Steve, I know," Peggy assures with a look that flashes her experience in a form of disdain.
Steve maintains that defiant expression like he's trying not to succumb— trying not to betray how new this is to him. His gritted teeth make his jaw bulge either side as he swallows thickly, but Peggy sees right through his boldness and trashes it with a slow swirl of her tongue around his head.
Steve grunts a heavy breath through his nose like a tempered colt, and cants his head back as his eyes eclipse with bliss.
Peggy smirks up at him in silent laughter. His pluckiness is admirable, but it won't fare at all against her seduction.
"Mmh~ mh, Peggy," Steve moans softly, prompting her to take him deeper.
"Peggy!" he yells, rocking in his seat even as he's restrained. The feeling of her lips gliding along every ridge of his cock and the warmth of her mouth is so much more than Steve could have fantasised about. He never thought he'd get to experience this at all.
"How does that feel, soldier?" she teases, pulling off to dab her mouth on the back of her hand and just stroke him for a bit.
Her grip is just right, and Steve's whole body is trembling. His teeth chatter as he sways his knees, climbing for the relief of coming. His full belly is just a dull ache now compared to the electric agony of having an orgasm delayed by someone else, but the pressure of his heavy stomach certainly adds to his arousal.
Peggy is languid in her efforts as she dips in and out of the non-committal oral. Every time Steve's cock leaves her mouth he cries. He'd be so close and she'd know this and torment him.
"Nh— Peggy, I can't anymore! I'm gunna'— I'm gunna' burst~ please!"
"Oh? But I thought you wanted more punishment," she reminds him wryly.
"No, no, god damnit!" he sobs, stamping his feet in desperation, pulling against the ropes tying his wrists down. "I wanna' come! Please! I surrender, Peggy! I'm surrendering! Please let me come!"
"Oh, Steve," Peggy tuts, "but our super soldier can't ever surrender..."
Steve hiccups so hard his ribs visibly expand and his overstuffed tummy heaves. He throws his head back, baring his pitiful state to whoever is watching him from above. But only Peggy is watching here, and she is enamoured by the sight.
"Please," Steve cries softly, gaping at the reminder of Peggy's power when she squeezes his ripe balls and harasses the underside of his cock with her tongue.
"Peggy! Ah~" Steve groans, trying to let himself come but being unable to cross over that threshold while Peggy has his testicles in her palm.
"I'm begging you," he whispers, hanging his head in reverence to her prowess.
"You should know, Steve... a Hydra agent won't be as merciful as I," she warns, letting him go and giving him a fast few tugs that send him into a stutter of broken moans and convulsions.
With his teeth gritted and his shoulders hunched— face red and tear-stained— it would be easy to confuse him for being in pain. But Steve has never felt such bliss. Relief is a strong accompaniment to shame.
He comes so hard that he blacks out before he's even finished ejaculating— his orgasm was stronger than his frail, overtaxed little body could withstand. But when he recovers the strands of consciousness, he's lulled by the feeling of a cool flannel on his forehead and the supportive arms of Peggy who cradles him.
"There, there we are~" she coos to him. "Poor lamb, I think we took that a little further than we should have."
"No," Steve smiles blearily as he finds the focus to gaze up at Peggy. "It was one hell of a punishment..."
Peggy laughs softly as she rocks him a little.
"Have you learned your lesson now, soldier?"
Steve grins foolishly. "If I say no will ya' show me again?"
Peggy just rolls her eyes, but the smile doesn't leave her lips.
"Nah," Steve corrects himself, "if you asked me that even half way through I'd'a said yes ma'am."
"Well, you'll never forget your first time now, will you?"
Steve's innocence comes flooding back in the form of a blush.
"I- I never said it was my first time!" he bluffs.
"Tsh, as if you had to," Peggy exposes.
"W-well, I never would anyway. A beautiful gal like you would be impossible to forget... never mind it bein' my first time an' all," he bashfully declares.
"Oh, Steve," Peggy pouts sympathetically.
She leans down to give him a kiss, leaving a clean red outline of her lips on his forehead. "If you continue to be a good boy from now on, then maybe we can make this into a reward and not a punishment," she alludes.
Steve huffs a bewildered laugh. "Ma'am, if you were willing to do that to me ever again, I'd take it as a punishment or a reward, I ain't picky!" the plucky little soldier admits.
Peggy tuts softly. She fears she rather may be falling for the scrawny punk.
But Steve really is one of a kind.