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Sometimes, Peggy thinks, it'd be better if all dicks were detachable.
Not that she hold anything against the factory-issue parts with which she's most frequently acquainted, but there's something to be said for being able to play both sides of the field, and for the way BJ practically starts drooling when he sees the rubber in her hand. Something about the way her fingers just barely wrap around it. With Hawkeye's help, she finagled a kind of holster out of an old pair of briefs, sewing the opening halfway shut and making them small enough to ft her. It's not perfect, but it's enough.
It's BJ's birthday, and after the wholesome family fun of the day (complete with a photo of BJ in a birthday hat with Erin on his lap, both of them leaning to blow out the candles that Peg is already mentally putting on the mantle), Erin's been bundled off for a sleepover with the grandparents. Hawkeye's distracting him downstairs, and Peg slides the makeshift harness over her hips and sits on the edge of the bed, giving it a few strokes to set her mind, connect to it a little. It's always better when she can get there.
She pulls the rest of her outfit from the bottom of the closet: the smallest pair of men's dungarees she could find (actually, they're from the boy's section; no one thinks twice about a mother picking up children's clothing during school hours) and a dress shirt that swamps her shoulders but at least hits the right place on her hips. She tucks it in, pulling it a little loose to hide as much of her chest as she can. She couldn't find a hat that didn't make her look utterly ridiculous, so she pulls her hair into the tightest bun that she can, leaving it low on her neck.
She leans out the door and calls for Hawkeye. He skips up the stairs two at a time, and she hands him the tie she's picked out - the piece de resistance. Hawkeye's jaw drops. "Peggy Jane, he says, voice husky and awe-filled, "You - you're going to kill him."
"Save it," she says, grinning. "And help me. My half-windsor is pathetic." He chuckles and comes to stand behind her, putting them in front of the mirror. She leans against him while he makes the knot, admiring his hands in the mirror. As he tugs it to fit, she reaches behind her, cups her hand. He kisses her neck and straightens her collar, taking one last look at them both in the mirror.
"Where do you want me?" he murmurs. "Or is this just for the two of you?"
"I think your part will emerge as we get into it," she says. "So far the only thing I have planned is getting him on his knees."
"Good plan."
"I thought so. You want to go get him?"
Hawkeye kisses her cheek one more time and bolts. She hears them coming up the stairs more slowly than usual, and leans against the bedpost as casually as her outfit will allow. She sees why as they hit the door - BJ's got his eyes closed, Hawk leading him backwards through the hall.
"Oh, perfect," she breathes.
"Can I open my eyes yet?"
"No!" both of them say at once.
Peg licks her lips. "Hawkeye, bring him over here and help him to his knees." She wants to see the discovery, see what it does to him. Hawkeye leads him by the elbow, gently wraps an arm around him as Hawk bends to the floor, sitting back on his haunches patiently.
"Somebody tell me what's going on," he says. "Or at least get me a cigarette to go with the blindfold." Peg rolls her eyes and smiles. She reaches for his hands and places them flat on her thighs. His brow furrows. "Hawk?"
"Uh-uh," Peg says, taking his hand and sliding it up. The shudder that goes through him when he feels what's in her pants is worth it, as is the deep, guttural moan. "Oh, Peg."
"Open your eyes, birthday boy." He does, and he takes it in slowly; the denim, the bulge in the crotch, the tucked-in shirt, the tie. He swallows hard, a tinge of blush on his cheeks.
"I don't believe it," he says, taking her hand and kissing it. "I never thought blowing out all the candles would actually make my wish come true."
"That's an awfully specific wish," Peg teases.
"I'm an awfully specific man."
"I'll say," Hawkeye mutters as the three of them chuckle. BJ sighs happily, taking it all in.
"Peg, I have to say, I don't think I looked this handsome at our wedding." She gives him an aw-shucks grin and runs a hand through his hair.
"Look," he continues, "I'm guessing I'm on my knees for a reason, but it's my birthday, so -" he gets to his feet and sweeps Peg into his arms for a long kiss. Hawkeye whistles from his perch on the bed, lying on his side with his cheek propped up on his hand.
The kiss is sweet, at first, and then gets deeper, more intense. Peg feels herself falling, feels the sweeping wave of surrender tickling at the edge of her consciousness and stops, putting a hand on BJ's chest between them, her other still wrapped around the back of his neck. "Darling," she murmurs, trailing her fingers down his sternum, "What do you say to letting me call the shots tonight?"
He grins and kisses her neck. "Where do you want me?"
She slips a hand up into his hair and grips it, hard, her voice slipping into the smooth, clipped, cold-grin cadence she's been looking forward to all night. "On your knees, darling." It sounds like an entirely different word than the one she uttered a second ago.
Hawkeye moans softly off to the side as BJ slowly gets to his knees, locking his eyes on hers. She strokes his head as he settles himself on the floor, her voice in a low, cool croon. "That's it. That's where I want you." He closes his eyes, still halfway humoring her. She shoves two fingers into his mouth, cupping the back of his head as she does, and he whimpers the tiniest protest as his cheeks hollow, taking her in.
That's more like it.
Peg warms him up, two fingers, then three, enjoying the flick of his tongue, the way he lets her in. She glances at Hawkeye for a second. One fist is balled up in front of his mouth, and the other is unabashedly palming the front of his pants. His eyes are locked on BJ.
Peg pulls her fingers out of BJ's mouth and he moans, following them, mouth hanging unabashedly open and needy. "There, there," she soothes. "We'll find something to fill your mouth - won't we, Hawkeye?" Hawkeye responds with a strangled noise, half giggle, half moan. Peg fumbles for a second with her fly, and then BJ's hands are at her buttons, eager, scrambling. He frees her cock and takes it into his mouth, hands on her hips as he bobs his head. Peg tugs on his hair, stunned, as she always is, exactly how much she can feel. It may be rubber, but it's hers, and BJ's lips are stretched obscenely as he tries to take her deeper and deeper.
Finally, she pulls him off. One meaningful look at Hawkeye, and he scrambles for the nightstand drawer. Peg bends down - even with him on his knees, it's not far - and whispers, "Your choice - me, or him?" The question is enough to set BJ panting, eyes still closed. There's a small, dark spot at the front of his slacks - damnnn. She hasn't seen him this desperate in ages.
"BJ?"
"You." His voice is breathy, ragged. She's rarely seen him like this - it's always Hawkeye that gets lost and goes wandering around his own subconscious. He's struggling for the words, and it thrills her.
"Good answer," she says, mostly for something to anchor herself, remind herself that she's still in charge. Hawkeye's got everything ready. "Get up."
BJ staggers to his feet, and Peg seizes the back of his shirt and throws him face-first onto the bed. He lands with an uhnf but doesn't try to get back up. "Hawkeye, be a dear and give him something to do while I prep him," she says with a wink. Hawkeye grins wickedly at her and crawls around to BJ's head. Just a few seconds, and BJ's up on his elbows, mouth full, Hawk on his knees; it's one of her favorite views of them, Hawkeye with his head thrown back, full-throated panting, BJ's head moving, making urgent, needy sounds around Hawkeye. While they're distracted, she gets her hands around him, unbuckles his belt. Her hands brush him through his shorts and he drives his hips down into her palm, clamoring for friction, for touch.
Peg works his pants and shorts over his hips and can't help giving his cheeks an appreciative smack. "Mmmf!" BJ yelps indignantly, unwilling to let go for even a second. Peg's laugh is a dark cackle. She runs her fingernails lightly over the spot where she's slapped and enjoys the way he twitches and writhes under her.
From there, she gets down to business, slicking her fingers and easing him open the way Hawkeye taught her. She's clipped her nails short for the occasion. Once he's ready, she looks up at Hawkeye, who nods.
There's a little stepstool they keep under the bed for moments like this, thankfully. Peg drags it out with her foot and hops up, lining herself up perfectly. BJ gets his knees under him and she eases him through it, going slow and slick. "Fuck," Peg whispers. "Do you know what you do to me, sweet man? Do you know how it feels when you take me like that? Open for me, that's it, let me in. Let me in."
She talks him through and he takes her almost to the hilt. One tiny thrust of her hips and he's scrambling - she loves it when she can get the angle just right. He's abandoned his pursuits with Hawkeye and is now burying his head in Hawkeye's thigh as he ruts against the sheets as Peg finds her rhythm. Hawkeye cradles BJ's head in one hand and strokes himself with the other.
"Peg- please?" The word melts her. This is where she wants him, desperate and needy and begging and perfect.
"Mmm?" It sounds as innocent as she can muster, but they both know what she really means is, "you're going to have to do better than that. You're not going to come until I say so."
"Please Peg, please - I want - I'm so - " he stops to catch his breath, but Peggy keeps going, pushing him to the edge. "Please, please, Peggy -" his voice cracks as he says her name and she nearly keels over. "Fuck, I can't stop, I can't stop, it's too much; it's too good, please Peg, please, please please let me - "
She times her "yes," for the moment he comes apart. She loves it when he loses control with her, when he can't master himself for once, unraveled and helpless and open.
Hawkeye comes quietly into his fist, curled over BJ. Peg can't resist the opportunity.
"Clean him up, BJ."
It's Hawkeye's turn to groan as BJ laps at his hand, content as the proverbial cat. Peg eases out slowly, strips out of her pants and climbs into bed with them. BJ rolls over, sated and dazed, beaming at her. He reaches for her and grabs the tie, pulling her in for a kiss that tastes like Hawkeye. She doesn't love the flavor, but she does love the poetry of it. She stretches out on her side with her back to him, and Hawk goes for his other side. She always needs this after she's been a little mean to him, the reassurance, the being held. He's always obliged her with grace, sliding an arm under her neck and pulling her close.
"Peg?"
"Yes, darling?"
"Do I get an extra birthday wish?"
"An extra? Is that some kind of special privilege when you hit forty?"
"Absolutely," Hawkeye says. "I think we should grant it."
"Very well then - what's your wish? And what do you have to blow in order to get it?"
They both groan. Peg's far too pleased with herself.
"I want..." BJ's voice trails off as he slips his flingers between her bare legs, finds her soaked and aching - she didn't realize how much until this moment. "I want to see you as desperate as you like seeing me," he growls. "I want to hear you scream, Peggy Jane."
She tilts her hips so his fingers are angled right and sighs into the crook of his arm. "I think that can be arranged."
"Oh, good."
"Happy birthday, darling."
He kisses the back of her head. "Thank you. thank you."