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Pluck my flower

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You’re nervous as you step out of the elevator. The invitation in your hand says you’ve won a special night with the Avengers Team. After extensive background checks, you’ve finally been admitted to the Tower where they live.

The eerie computer voice that seems to follow you gives you directions as you walk. It’s just a couple of turns down empty hallways before you step into a meeting room. It’s nicely furnished — a mahogany table with leather chairs and an enormous sectional that looks soft, if the way the people sitting on it are sinking into the cushions. There’s a kitchenette with fresh fruit sitting on the counter, and there are various bottles arrayed along the edge of the backsplash. You’re old enough to be here, but not old enough to drink and remembering how much more mature they are than you gives you chills.

“Y/n! We’re so glad you could make it,” Captain America says as he rises from the sofa.

He’s dressed in slacks and a blue button up shirt that’s at least a size and half too small, but the fabric doesn’t restrain him, it moves with his muscles as they flex. As your eyes meet his, you bite your lip. He’s the pinnacle of manhood, but seeing him up close and in person is so much more appealing than seeing him on TV or in books.

“Steve Rogers,” he says, smiling and reaching out to shake your hand.

You blush, realizing that you’ve frozen in awkwardly in place. “Nice you meet you,” you manage to say, though your voice is embarrassingly high pitched.

Steve just smiles warmly and moves to stand beside you. “This is the rest of the team: Tony, Thor, Clint, and Bruce. Our sixth member, Natasha, is out of town tonight.”

You wave timidly, a small, “Hi,” all that you manage. Steve’s large hand settles slowly on the small of your back. You can feel the heat from his hand through the thin silk of your dress as he gently guides you to the sofa.

You settle between Steve and Tony, who casually throws his arm over the back of the sofa.

“Hi, y/n. Thanks for replying to our invitation. Is there anything you want?” Tony asks. You can feel his eyes as they rake over the skin tight dress that you bought for this night.

You’re too nervous to think of eating or drinking anything, so you shake your head.

“You seem a little tense. We can get you a drink if you want, help you relax,” Bruce offers kindly from the part of the sectional that’s not quite facing you.

Clint nods enthusiastically. “I can even get you some pizza if that would help. Pizza always makes me feel better.”

You look down at your lap. “I- I’m not old enough to drink.”

Steve gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and tips your head up with a firm hand under your chin. “There’s no shame in that. It’s responsible of you to be so concerned.”

He’s so earnest and sincere that you can’t help but blush under his gaze.

“So do you have any questions?” Thor asks.

You pull the invitation out of your clutch. It’s crumpled and worn around the edges from the way that you’ve kept it in your pocket for the last month since it came in the mail. You’ve long since memorized the words, but the paper feels familiar and comforting in your hands.

To the esteemed Ms. Y/n,

You are cordially invited to join the Avengers for an evening of company and companionship.

Sincerely, Tony Stark

It’s been on your mind for some time now. Was the invitation intentionally vague, or were the Avengers just so relaxed that the night could go however and they wouldn’t mind?

“I’m not sure what tonight’s plans are, that’s all,” you finally admit.

With a look of curiosity, Steve lifts the beaten piece of paper from your hand and reads it.

“Tony,” Steve says, his voice disappointed in a way that makes you immediately ashamed, though you know it can’t be your fault since you didn’t write the invitation. “I thought we talked about this. This is too open to interpretation.”

Tony shrugs, looking suddenly chastened but annoyed at being called out. “I thought ‘company and companionship’ were the universal code words for boinking. My bad.”

You immediately blush, gripped by lust and anxiety at once. You’re a virgin, and while every girl from New York to LA has dreamt of being deflowered by at least one of the Avengers, you hadn’t actually thought about what you would do if the opportunity arose.

At first you don’t realize that you, and everyone around you, have gone silent. You look up and they’re all staring at you, watching you with concern.

“On my honor, we would never force you to do something you did not desire. Come, y/n, let us instead eat dinner!” Thor says.

Thor, Clint, and Bruce stand and walk to the kitchenette, leaving you bracketed by Steve and Tony, both of whom look very concerned.

“Hey, listen. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding,” Tony says. “Don’t feel compelled. Really, we can just pass Steve around later once you’re gone. It’s no hardship.”

There’s a smile on Tony’s face that suggests that’s he joking, but the glare that you can feel boring into the back of your neck tells you that Steve might not be as amused.

But joking aside, you’re not sure that you want to say no. All of them are so attractive and they’re so nice and caring. You know instinctively that they would make it good, treat you well, and make it a night to remember.

“I-” you take a deep breath to conquer your fears and try again. “I think it sounds like something I want to try.”

Steve’s eyebrows climb up his forehead and he nods slowly. “Okay. If that’s what you want. Do you want all of us, or just one?”

“All of you,” you whisper quietly.

Steve smiles approvingly and you know you’ve made the right decision, but even so your stomach flips in nervous anticipation. The girls you went to high school with had said that it hurt the first time, and as built as the Avengers all are you suspect that they’re probably pretty well endowed, guaranteed not to be easy for a first-timer.

“What are you nervous about?” Steve asks. “If you’re embarrassed, don’t be. Sex isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

Tony shifts beside you and looks at you carefully. You duck your head, ashamed that at nineteen you still haven’t found someone to pop your cherry.

“I’m a virgin,” you admit softly.

“Oh,” Steve says, the sound coming out of him like he’s been punched. “Well, I guess we better take it easy on you, then.”

You smile, relieved, and Tony takes your hand in his. “We’re gonna make this night the best night. Don’t you worry.”

It’s easy to believe, their kind smiles and gentle words. You relax a fraction and let yourself sink a little further into the sofa.

After another moment, Tony pats you on the knee and gets up, and you’re alone on the sofa with Steve. You can hear the other Avengers whispering with Tony and you know it’s all about you, about what they’re planning to do with you, and the anticipation sends a shiver down your spine.

But Steve looks at you with those blue eyes flecked with green and grey and hazel, a kaleidoscope of colours. His hair is sunlight, his skin creamy, and three freckles grace his straight nose. His calloused thumb gently rubs over your cheekbone and somehow his lips meet yours.

His lips, like his hands, are so warm it’s almost like being touched by the sun. He’s so gentle, his tongue only lightly caressing your lips, not trying to push inside until you part your lips yourself. When you do, he moans quietly, and you gasp. His lips pull tighter and you can tell that he’s smiling. Carefully, he nips your bottom lip and you rock your hips forward involuntarily, the sensation going straight between your legs.

You moan and Steve’s hand slides down your side, gripping your hip. He’s being a gentleman, you realize, not moving any further ahead, giving you a chance to say no. But you don’t want to say no. You want more like nothing you’ve ever wanted before. Because while you’ve kissed before, you haven’t kissed Steve Rogers before and by god the man can kiss.

By the time he pulls back, his lips pink and glistening from the encounter, you’re breathless.

“Good?” he asks you quietly.

You nod, not quite able to make words. Good doesn’t begin to explain how good you feel.

He smiles, little laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. “Good girl. What do you want to do first?” he asks.

“I don’t know. That’s kinda your area of expertise,” you point out with a shy smile and he chuckles.

“Fair enough. Well, there’s a king size fold out bed in the sofa. That’s what we were planning, but you’d have a bit of an audience. You alright with that for your first time?” Steve asks cautiously.

Fuck. The thought of being watched while Captain America deflowers you in front of the other Avengers makes you throb and ache between your thighs. “‘S fine,” you say gustily.

Steve smiles and leans in for another quick kiss, one that leaves you panting and aching for more, before pulling away and standing up.

“Hey, Bruce. Help me with the sofa?” he calls.

Bruce, and Clint even though he wasn’t asked, come over and begin to pull cushions off of the sectional. You watch Steve’s ass as he bends over to grab the frame of the bed. His bespoke slacks do glorious things for his frame.

The bed looks enormous, you remember the fold out at your grandma’s house and how it took both your mom and your dad to open it. It had to be half the size of this bed, maybe less, but Steve lifts it like it weighs nothing, the globes of his ass gently tightening as he moves.

He spends a few moments righting the blankets that came out of the sofa already on the bed. Tony winks at you as he saunters over, a bottle of lube in his hand.

“Not saying you need this, but honestly there’s rarely such a thing as too much lube,” he explains as he tosses the bottle onto the bed.

You nod a little confusedly, not entirely sure how you could need it. You feel like your panties are already soaked and honestly you’re becoming worried about the state of your dress. But then again at least you’ll have the lube if you need it. After all, maybe by the time you’re on the fourth or fifth Avenger you might change your mind.

Thor comes over to the sofa, a mug of what looks like beer in his hand. “For a virgin you are quite brave. The five of us in one night will be no easy feat. You would make an excellent shield maiden if you were an Asgardian.”

“Four, remember?” Bruce says from he’s settling down next to Clint.

Thor shrugs and chugs half the beer in one pull. “You may not lie with her as we will but I know you, Banner. You’ll give the lady her due.”

Bruce smiles. He seems so quiet and reserved for the person who supposedly turns into the Hulk, and you wonder why he won’t have sex with you too.

“Come on,” Steve calls, and you look back to the bed where’s he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoes and socks already off.

Tony stands first, offering you a hand to your feet, and you appreciate the gesture. Your heart is thundering loudly in your chest and your legs feel like jelly. You’re not sure if you could stand right now on your own.

Steve seems to understand because he comes over and takes your other hand as Tony lets go. It’s only a few steps to the bed then you lower yourself onto the mattress. Once down, Steve kneels, carefully slipping your shoes off your feet. His fingers run sensually up your calves to the hem of your dress, and you remember abruptly that you are going to be naked in this room of men.

“We’ll work up to it,” Steve says. You know everyone can hear him, but the words are just for you.

You nod and he climbs up onto the bed, leaning back on the pillows. He motions you over and you crawl to him. But you stop as you get closer, unsure of what to do or where to go. Steve sits up and leans forward, lifting the bottom hem of your dress just enough to get up to the level of your panties, though not quite enough to reveal them. Then, like it’s no effort at all, he picks you up and sets you over his legs.

As you straddle his lap you can feel his hard length under you, his manhood rubbing against your wet folds, and you shudder in anticipation. He’s bigger than you imagined but he feels so good that you can’t help but grind down, just a little, as he pulls you down for a kiss. It’s searing. The last kiss was only a warmup for the passion of this one and you’re so unprepared. The legendary strength of Captain America is suddenly clear to you and it thrills you to know that even though he could overpower you at any moment, he won’t.

Steve’s hands skim down your sides and then up your stomach to the bottom of your breasts. As his thumbs brush your hard nipples you moan, your hips thrusting involuntarily against Steve’s. He nips at your bottom lip when your head tips back, pulling you back down with his mouth.

You’re not entirely sure where to put your hands so you grab onto his hands as he caresses your breasts. After a moment, he takes one of your hands and puts it on his chest, right over a peaked nipple. You realize that he’s guiding you, showing you what he likes, and you’re all too eager to touch his body. Until now, the most you’ve done is touch his hands and kiss, and that alone feels like a lot. But the thought of touching the great expanse of his chest, his rock hard abs, his arms which are as big as your thighs — it all seems so, so appealing, and you waste no time in beginning your explorations.

He moans with you as you touch his nipples and you love that you can make the paragon of justice and freedom make those sounds, the kinds you’ve only heard a couple of times at your friend’s house. Her parents were gone one night and you found a link to porn in her dad’s browser history so the two of you watched it, careful to delete your history after. Steve sounds like that. But better, more real, more wholesome.

“I bet she comes from that alone,” Bruce observes and it takes you a minute to realize he means the way that Steve rubs your nipples.

“I’m certainly going to try,” Steve replies.

You’re moaning louder now and you hadn’t really realized, so caught up in the sensations of kissing, of your nipples, of touching him, of the way your wet panties slide between you and his khakis.

Bruce is right. Pleasure is building inside you but you’re not ready yet. If you come now, what about later, during sex? Wouldn’t it be better to wait?

“I’m too close,” you stammer out and Steve’s hands go still.

He pulls back, not to far but enough to give you both room to speak. “You gonna come for me, y/n?”

“Yeah, I’m close, but I don’t wanna. Not yet. I wanna wait,” you try to explain.

“You wanna wait until I’m in you?” It’s not a question; Steve says it like a fact, like he already knows.

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, y/n. We can absolutely do that,” he says.

You smile, grateful that he doesn’t make you explain your thoughts and feelings in detail. Having to put it all into words seems daunting and maybe a little too embarrassing right now.

He kisses you again, softer now and with less urgency. His hands slide behind you and he deftly unzips the back of your dress. Both of your hands are free now, your right no longer holding onto one of his. You begin to unbutton the front of his shirt. Even with your eyes closed it’s easy, but you gasp and fumble the button you’re working on when Steve runs his hands over the bare skin of your back.

It feels like electricity. No one has ever touched that skin. Sure you hugged a couple of your friends when you were swimming last summer and Dad helped you work out a knot in your shoulder that one time when you slipped down the front steps of the house, but no one has run their hands over your skin with intent and you feel drunk with it.

A few seconds go by with you simply lost to the pleasure of touch and sensation before you regain some idea of where you are. With inelegant motions you return to the task of his shirt, carefully loosening buttons all the way to his pants. There you stop, unsure if you can or should venture any further. But Steve takes one of his hands off your back to tug the bottom of his shirt free for you and you know that he wants you to finish.

When you’re done, he sits up with you still in his lap, his blue shirt hanging open, revealing the absolute pinnacle of manhood. His pecs are perfectly sculpted and he looks even better than the Adonis sculptures that you looked at in art appreciation this semester. His perfect pink nipples are hard, the skin around them drawn tight the way that yours is. He shrugs off his shirt and you look at his collarbones, the graceful arc of each one, drawing your gaze to the dip in his throat. You follow those lines out to his shoulders — broad and powerful. From there you move to his arms which are strong and well-toned, but not overdone like muscle builders, like men who try vainly to achieve what only Captain America can — perfection.

He catches your eye and smiles. You realize he’s watching you drink him in but he doesn’t blush. There’s no judgment and you’re relieved that he’s not going to make fun of you for your eagerness and desire.

“May I?” he asks, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You nod, a little nervous but ready, and lift your arms over your head. He peels your dress off in one fluid motion and hands it over to Tony who lays it out carefully over the back of the sofa.

Your breasts are exposed now because you had chosen not to wear a bra. The dress was so sheer, so skin tight, that straps and even the outline of pasties would have been obvious and tacky. You can feel the gazes of the other men in the room drawn to your near naked form but it’s flattering. All of these well-to-do powerful men could take anyone to bed. But they chose you. They’re enjoying looking at you. They’re excited about you.

Steve lifts you then, laying you delicately on the mattress. “Lift your hips,” he instructs, flicking the band of your panties.

You know he means to remove the rest of your clothes, to leave you naked and on display, but even though you’re anxious you don’t think you mind. Not anymore. Not as long as you can come soon, though you’re worried what will happen after you do, when there are three (or four?) more Avengers to go.

But you lift your hips anyway, confident that if you say no they’ll respect it. The cool air of the room is unexpected against your sopping wet folds and you close your legs instinctively. While you lay there, feeling vulnerable and anxious, Steve begins to remove the rest of his clothing. First, he slides the belt out of his pants and drops it to the floor beside the bed. Then he undoes the front of his slacks and pushes them down over his thighs. He doesn’t make it a show of it, he’s not stripping to tease you, he’s got purpose — you.

Soon, through some contortion that on you would have been clumsy but on him is graceful, his pants and briefs are off without him ever standing or leaving the bed. It takes you only a moment to zero in on his member, though your eyes do linger temporarily on his thighs.

He looks so much bigger there than he felt through clothes and you wonder how that it going to fit inside of you. You’ve put a finger or two in yourself before, and there’s not much space.

While you try to figure out the mechanics of this encounter, Steve lies down beside you, his hand running reassuringly down your stomach, onto your thigh, and then back up before repeating the process.

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

For a moment you’re confused, but then yes. Him touching you down there seems like a great idea and you relax your legs a little to allow him access. He props himself up on his elbow and uses his free hand to spread your legs a little wider, wide enough that his whole hand fits comfortably between your thighs.

At first, he just rubs your thighs. His fingers run easily over your skin, already wet with your juices. Bit by bit he inches closer to your folds and you gasp loudly when he touches them. You know your lips must be swollen, they’re so sensitive now, and his touching feels so good. Then, so very tentatively, he slips a finger between them and delves into your slit.

Your hips buck up before you can stop them and you moan loudly, fists at your sides, when he grazes over your pearl. You’ve never been this turned on before and it’s doing things to your brain. The ache between your legs is growing, something you know can only be satisfied when there’s something inside you.

Normally, you use fingers or the handle of your hairbrush, but now it seems like nothing will do but Steve’s hard length which is pressed against your thigh.

The thought crosses your mind to reach out and touch, to stroke him like the women in those porn videos did to the men, but you’re not sure if that’s what you should be doing. Even if you were sure, you’re so out of your mind with sensation and pleasure that you probably couldn’t manage to do it anyway.

Steve’s fingers are circling your clit, rubbing your lips, pressing around your entrance, and you’re desperate. “Please,” you beg softly, and Steve rewards you with a lick to the nearer nipple and a large, calloused rough finger sliding all the way in until it bumps the back of your passage.

As you moan he begins pumping his finger in and out slowly. The relief is so good that you forget to care that there are others watching, other seeing you enjoy this, others waiting their turn.

A second finger, and then a minute later a third, join — pumping in and out, stretching you open, making you ready to take him. At some point you realize that Steve is ready too because he’s slowly rubbing his manhood against your thigh while he works you open. He’s panting, little soft noises as he moves and you’re eager to hear the sounds that he makes when he’s in you, when he’s coming.

Right as you’re about to ask him please, please you don’t want to wait any longer, he pulls his fingers free and wipes them on a towel that appeared from somewhere. Then he crawls up onto his knees and spreads your legs wide. He can see you clearly like this, your folds parted. He slicks himself well with the lube the Tony brought earlier and then gently lines himself up over your entrance. The relief you feel from the insistent ache is immediate, but he doesn’t push in, not just yet. Instead he leans down over you, chest to chest, and just rocks his hips. It’s a slow motion and he’s not making any headway at first, he isn’t in you like you want. But with each thrust he moves in farther, bearing down into you a little at a time, making space in you where there hadn’t been any before.

For all the build up, it doesn’t hurt, not like you expected. It’s a bit uncomfortable — the stretching and burning at first, but it’s not the splitting pain schoolmates had described. So you bear it, letting him fill you more and more until he’s pressed hip to hip with you and you feel full like you couldn’t have imagined.

He stops once he’s all the way in. One of his hands comes to your face and he brushes an errant lock of hair from your forehead. “Ready, y/n?”

“Please, yes,” you beg.

He’s resting on his elbows and he dips down, his lips locking with yours as he begins to move. His arms are under yours and he laces his fingers in your hair, rubbing your scalp and pulling as he fucks into you.

It amazes you that even in the heat of sex Steve has the wherewithal to use his hands for anything, especially when all you can do is grip his shoulders and hold on desperately. You wrap your legs around him and lock your ankles to feel closer to him.

As he moves you can feel your juices leaking out of you and onto the bed underneath you, but it’s not something you worry about. Surely that was expected, especially with so much sex planned for the evening. Even if it wasn’t, the Avengers can afford a good laundry service.

You clench tight around him, feeling the drag of his throbbing hard member as he pulls out and the smooth slide as he pushes back in. Like the lapping of waves on a beach, you’re lulled by the rhythm until nothing exists outside of where you are joined to Steve. And like the tide in the ocean, the waves eventually begin to crest higher and higher until you’re drowning in pleasure and the incoming tide roars over you.

You gasp, as the wave of your orgasm recedes. That was the most amazing orgasm you’ve ever felt and you want to want to lay there limp and boneless until next week. But between your legs Steve is still moving, the pace unchanged.

The sensation is quickly going from enjoyable as he works you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, to uncomfortable and then painful as your body becomes overstimulated.

“Please, it hurts,” you whimper.

Steve slows down, but doesn’t stop. “You’ve only come once. Be patient,” he tells you.

“Okay,” you agree.

But you know you can’t keep the pained expression off your face and after another moment he stops and pulls out. You moan in relief, your eyes sliding closed. There’s the snick of an opened bottle cap and you open your eyes to see Steve slicking himself again. Then he dribbles lube down your slit and pushes it into you with a finger.

The friction makes you whine but his finger in you feels good and you roll your hips. He chuckles and takes a moment to rub your clit with thumb. You can feel the pleasure building there again and you hadn’t realized that you could have more than one in a row, not so soon.

He gives it a minute, just pleasuring you, before he scoots forward on his knees again, putting your legs over his shoulders, and lines himself up. Your fingers dig into the sheets as he pushes back inside. It hurts and you want to cry but it also feels so good to be full again, and your clit throbs.

Steve pins your thighs to his chest with one arm, the other hand reaching down to your chest. He starts moving, faster and harder this time, and it’s thrilling to think that he’s so powerful, just holding you in place and using you. He twists and pinches your nipples one at a time. It hurts but in the best way and little sparks of pleasure shoot straight to where the two of you are joined. You moan and scream and babble pleas as he fucks you undeterred by the presence of an audience.

Finally, Steve comes, his hips slamming into you so hard that you don’t think he’s holding back anymore. The extra liquid begins to drip out of you almost immediately. He rests, still inside of you, still holding you tight against him, and he breathes.

Carefully, he slides himself out, leaving you wanting and so so wet. You never got to come that second time and you’re not ready for it to be over just yet. But he’s laying you gently on the bed. Then he sinks down beside you, hands skimming over your bare stomach and chest.

“Thank you, that was great,” he says reverently. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” you answer. And it’s the truth.

He bends down and kisses you, just lips, and then pulls away. “Do you need to rest for a bit or are you ready for the next person?”

“I’m ready now,” you answer immediately. You’re still aching and desperate for someone to fill you and use you and make you come again.

Steve looks surprised and then laughs, the sound deep and pure. From other side you hear Thor exclaim, “I’ll drink to that! She’s made of sterner stuff than many.”

“Clint, do you mind?” Tony asks.

“Nah, man. Have at,” Clint answers.

Steve smiles and leans in for one last kiss. “Have fun.”

You nod and give his hand a squeeze and he rolls away, making space next to you for Tony who’s standing patiently at the edge of the bed. Tony smiles, his brown eyes soft and warm like a mocha latte as he looks down at you. Eager, and more excited than anxious now, you prop yourself up on your left arm and roll onto to your side to face Tony.

“Come on,” you encourage him and he smiles, dimples creasing his handsome face.

“Wow, Steve wound you up, huh?” Tony remarks as he sits down. His shoes and socks are already gone, as well as his tie, and all that’s left are his vest, shirt, and pants. “How about you come here and help me out of these clothes.”

You sit up and crawl across the bed, eager to see what’s under Tony’s clothes. If it’s even a fraction like anything like you can already see — his olive skin and the toned muscles flexing under his shirt just adding to the want you feel between your legs — you won’t be disappointed at all.

Tony’s still sitting on the edge of the bed and you crawl off the bed and kneel in front of him on the floor. He’s watching you with rapt attention as you begin to undo the buttons on his vest and then shirt.

As you flick open the last one, Tony grabs your wrist, stopping you from opening his shirt at the last moment. “There’s... scarring. A lot of it. You don’t have to pretend like it isn’t there. You can touch a bit if you want, just remember that what’s underneath it is just me.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. Tony sounds hurt, worried, tense. You don’t want him to feel that way, you want him to enjoy this just as much as you do. So you force yourself to breathe naturally as you peel his clothes back.

He didn’t lie. There is a lot of scarring and it covers his chest in a network of criss-crossing lines. You reach up tentatively, looking to him for permission as you do. He nods, the corners of his mouth curving up into a smile that’s perfectly framed by his immaculate goatee. Carefully, you touch the lines. A gasp that you’re sure no one else in the room could hear comes from Tony, but he doesn’t move as you run your whole hand over his chest. Underneath the scarring are a pair of immaculately sculpted pecs that you really wouldn’t mind licking.

Hesitantly, you lean forward to lave the flesh of the right pec with the flat of your tongue. You make sure to graze his nipple before moving to the other side.

“Dear lord, you are a gift from heaven,” Tony moans.

You smile, glad that Tony is no longer focused on his scars and is instead thinking only of pleasure. He lets you suck at his nipples a few more times, each time with another soft groan of appreciation, before he puts his hands on your shoulders.

“You’re getting criminally good with that tongue, y/n, but I really just want to get these clothes off so we can fuck,” Tony says.

That sounds amazing to you, and you hasten to remove Tony’s pants. While you’re pulling off his belt you brush against his crotch and you realize that’s he’s hard and ready, and you quiver, a fresh gush of fluids issuing forth from your entrance mixed with the juices left from Steve. You drop the belt to the floor and begin to undo his pants. Underneath he’s not wearing any underwear and Tony stands up, letting you pull his pants down. He steps out of them and then he’s as naked as you are.

He sits and moves back on the bed, lying down on his back, his stiff rod curving up onto his stomach. He’s less substantial but not disappointingly so. Steve is clearly an outlier among humans while Tony simply looks normal. You’re not sure how you know this, but it’s some kind of instinctual knowledge.

You follow him onto the bed and he beckons you with his forefinger.

“How about you ride me this time?” he asks.

“I’m not really sure what you mean,” you admit with a small amount of embarrassment.

But ever kind, Tony just smiles. “That’s okay. I can show you.”

With a little instruction and maneuvering you end up straddling Tony. He’s holding his dick straight up with one hand, the other is on your hip guiding you as you lower yourself onto him. Surprisingly, even after the girth of Steve, Tony still feels amazing, your body changing shape to fit around him just right for the both of you.

As your hips finally settle on Tony’s, your eyes flutter closed and you sigh in relief. The aching need to be filled has finally been replaced with fullness and satisfaction. Now that he’s in you, Tony’s other hand comes up to stroke your breasts, his thumb rubbing over one nipple and then the other, just like Steve had. You groan and roll your hips, Tony’s hips twitching in response.

It feels so good this way. You’re able to rock your hips so that inside of you Tony rubs the spot on the front wall of you just the right way to bring you to another climax.

By the time you come down from your pleasure your thighs ache and tremble from the effort. You feel well and truly done for now, not like before with Steve when you hadn’t realized you could go on. Leaning forward you rest, your hands beside Tony on the bed.

“Need a break?” he guesses wiping a strand of sweat slick hair from your forehead.

You nod breathlessly and at his coaxing, lift up and off of Tony, flopping gracelessly to the mattress.

“What- what about you?” you ask. “You didn’t… finish.”

Tony leans up on an elbow beside you and shrugs, his hand gently stroking down your chest. “There’s other ways to take care of that.”

You nod, your body still all jell-o. “Like what?”

“Your hands, maybe even your mouth if you’re feeling adventurous.”

Both would be new to you, but using your mouth holds more appeal. He clearly would prefer that and you know men tend to like that, but like everything else, it’s new to you. Unsure how to proceed you simply ask Tony.

“Just open your mouth, use your tongue, don’t use your teeth, and please don’t bite,” Tony explains.

Sounds simple enough. You lay there gathering your wits and Tony seems in no rush. He just strokes you up and down over your chest and thighs, your stomach and sides. If you’re honest, you wouldn’t mind a nap right about now, but you also don’t want to leave Tony without his chance to come so once you think you can sit up without pitching over sideways you say, “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Come on then,” Tony says, motioning for you to follow him.

He sits on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. “Now you can kneel between my feet or sit on a pillow if that would more comfortable.”

Your legs are still wobbly from the orgasms and the riding so you opt for the pillow. Steve is there in an instant, two firm pillows stacked up for you to sit on. He lifts you easily while he positions them and then lowers you into place, careful of your swollen folds. As he helps you settle, you turn your face, stealing a kiss from him.

He moans in surprise, his eyes wide for a moment before closing. His tongue dips into your mouth again briefly, and then he retreats, leaving you to Tony. You realize then that Tony has not kissed you yet.

“Do you not like kissing?” you ask tentatively in case this quirk is like the scars on his chest, just less obviously painful.

He smiles crookedly. “No, not anymore,” he says simply.

You nod. His tone is soft but lets you know that he’s not interested in any more inquiry on the subject. Instead, you turn your thoughts to the matter at hand.

“So, um, do I just…”

“Give me your hand,” Tony instructs. He places your hand around the thickness of his member and you can feel his pulse hammering there under the soft skin. “Keep it like that to keep from choking yourself. There aren’t any points for swallowing a dick if you end up gagging and throwing up. Just work your hand in time with your mouth. And other than that just remember: no biting, minimal teeth, use your tongue, and breathe. No points for passing out either.”

“And if I don’t mess it up how many points do I get?”

Tony barks a surprised laugh and runs his fingers through your hair fondly. “I’ll get you an Iron Man t-shirt, how about that?”

His smile is brilliant, enough to light up an entire room, and you can’t help but smile back. He’s joking about the t-shirt, you know he is, but you laugh and say, “Okay, I’ll hold you to it.”

You back down then at the dick, as Tony called it, in your hand. So many of your friends have talked about doing this and your trepidation is replaced by resolution.

The first lick isn’t exactly the most appealing taste. The most overwhelming thing something that reminds you of the way you smell after a workout — it’s your own smell and taste. But beneath that is something else, something muskier, and you realize that flavor is distinctly Steve. It’s salty and bitter, but distinctly masculine and it reminds you of the taste of the sweat on his skin from when you licked his chest.

You do it again, more confidently now, and Tony’s fingers flex on the edge of the bed. You like that response so you do it again and again, slowly working your way around the end of his length. Then, once all you can taste is Tony’s skin, you begin to take him into your mouth.

Tony’s shaft feels just as big, if not bigger, in your mouth as it felt in your core. You work your jaw open as wide as you can to take him in carefully, conscientious of your teeth and how they bump against his delicate skin. It takes time to set up a rhythm between your hand, mouth, and tongue, but when you do it right you’re rewarded.

Tony’s knuckles clench white against the edge of the fold-out bed, his toes curl under, his thighs tremble with effort. He makes no effort to be stoic or quiet. Unlike Steve, who moaned his pleasure in low deep noises only here and there, Tony is eagerly vocal. You find that you’re strangely pleased at how much he seems to enjoy what you’re doing and how willing he is to let you know.

“Y/n…y/n I’m gonna come soon,” Tony rasps.

You keep going, unsure of what he wants you to do. Behind you Steve says, “He’s warning you in case you don’t want him to come in your mouth.”

But you’ve already tasted Steve and yourself and you’re eager to watch Tony come apart like that while he’s inside of your mouth. Instead of pulling off you suck harder, moving your fist faster around the base of his member, until you feel the hot salty wetness hit the back of your throat. The texture isn’t great, and salty with a hint of bitter isn’t anyone’s favorite flavor, but in all honesty, cough syrup is worse.

You keep going, watching Tony shake and shudder, his eyes still closed, until he raises a hand to push gently on your shoulder. “God, stop, please. Oh my god, I’m so sensitive now.”

He flops backwards to the bed once you let him go. “Oh my god. That was amazing. Your first time? Ha, well, they don’t score that kind of thing on aptitude tests, which is a shame really. You’re a fast learner and utterly fantastic. Thank you so much for that.”

The praise makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, and you crawl onto the bed next to Tony. He runs a hand over you, his fingertips seemingly to trace invisible lines on your skin, but he keeps the space between the two of you. You understand, not entirely of course, but if Tony has issues with kissing you figure that intimacy is probably related. You wish it weren’t though, because this has been a lot very quickly and you could use a hug.

“It’s okay if you want someone to hold you. I can’t do that, but I know Steve is great for that,” Tony offers.

Before you can ask Steve, still naked, is next to you with a blanket which you doubt you’ll need given how warm he is. “Come here. Let’s take a nap and when we wake up we can have a snack and see where we are. Sound good?”

You nod, your eyelids already drooping. “Yeah, I like that,” you answer as you pillow your head on Steve’s chest. His arm wraps around you from behind, pulling you close alongside him, and you fall asleep in seconds.

*

It feels like much later when you finally wake up. You’re stuck to Steve in some not so pleasant ways but you try not to move in case he’s still asleep.

“Morning, sunshine,” he murmurs into your hair.

You stretch and peel yourself off of him, only to lay back down once everything has been stretched out satisfactorily. For all of Steve’s muscular bulk he’s comfortable to lie on. He gives you a gentle squeeze as you lie back down and drops a kiss into your hair at the crown of your head.

“How do you feel?”

You think for a moment, your brain still coming back online after your nap. “Tired. Sore in some places. Warm.”

“Nothing too bad? Bruce is a doctor. You might let him check you out if you’re concerned. Or if not Bruce, we can call someone else,” Steve offers.

You appreciate his thoughtfulness, but shake your head. “Really. I think I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he says.

You lay there for a while, just watching Shrek, which you had to admit you didn’t expect as Avengers’ viewing material. But before too long your stomach growls and Steve shifts.

“You should eat. Even if you don’t want to go on, you should still eat. You burned a lot of calories.”

And honestly you’re not about to argue with him in regards to eating, only the part where you have to get up and get it for yourself is unappealing. But, like always it seems, before you can ask or even think to ask, someone is up. Clint is the one to get up this time and he heads to the kitchenette.

“We’ve got fresh fruit, bagels with like eight flavors of cream cheese, there’s snacks and shit like crackers and chips, we got pizza, and basically just anything. If it’s not here, it’s in the other kitchen. I don’t mind going and getting you something,” he calls.

Again you’re blown away by how thoughtful they are. “Um, some fresh fruit sounds good. Maybe half a bagel if that’s alright?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Clint answers. “Cream cheese flavor?”

“Oh, just butter if you’ve got that.”

Clint answers in the affirmative and you let yourself doze on Steve while the bagel toasts. You don’t really fall asleep this time, and it’s easy enough to wake entirely when Clint presents your with entirely too much fruit and two halves of different types of bagels.

“Yeah, I got tired of asking questions and Steve eats anything basically so I figured you could just give him whatever you got left. Don’t worry. Nothing goes to waste around here,” Clint says with a laugh.

You laugh too as you sit up, and Steve shrugs. “He’s not wrong,” Steve points out.

You get settled leaning against the back of the sofa, the little tray of food in your lap. A bottle of water and some cheese appears shortly thereafter, this time Bruce’s doing.

“You need to rehydrate and have some protein,” he explains and you’re reminded of Steve’s earlier suggestion to see Bruce for medical care, though you still don’t think you need it.

It doesn’t take half of what you’ve been given to sate your late night hunger and you give the rest to Steve who empties the plate in record time. You do, however, manage to drink the entire water bottle, something which Steve is quite pleased with. All too soon the movie is over and people are up, bustling around the room, picking up their empty plates and bottles, getting refills of whatever they’re drinking, and then returning to the sofa.

Steve hasn’t said anything more to you about continuing, but he’s watching you and you know he’s waiting for an answer. That’s okay though, because you haven’t changed your mind. You want to go through with this, you want to fuck Clint and Thor and do with Bruce whatever it is he can do.

You lean heavily against Steve, the sensation of his skin against yours grounding. “I think I’m ready to keep going.”

“Good,” he praises quietly.

“I think I’m going to need some time to get going again though,” you inform him.

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” he replies understandingly. “I think Clint and Bruce wanted you next.”

You eyebrows climb your forehead and you squeak out, “Both? At once?”

“Not like that,” Steve assures you. “Bruce can’t have sex because of the Hulk, but he still likes to participate other ways. He can tell you more about that though. It would only be Clint penetrating you.”

Penetrating. That word makes you shiver, makes you ache for more, and damn you never knew you could want like this, this much, this often. You rein in your arousal, though you can feel yourself beginning to get wet again. Clint and Bruce at the same time seems overwhelming but in a great way, like being held and protected on all sides at once.

“I think I can do that,” you finally answer.

“I knew you could,” Steve agrees.

Maybe Bruce and Clint heard, or maybe they just know it’s their turn, but a minute later they come over to the bed. Steve gives you another kiss farewell and makes his exit. Bruce, still clothed, takes Steve’s place, and Clint sits on the edge of the bed.

“So you still game?” Clint asks.

You nod and smile, his bright blue eyes and gold blond hair almost iridescent under the soft glow of the halogen bulbs. Clint isn’t like Tony or Steve or Thor — all classical good looks. He looks instead like he’s seen the business end of a baseball bat up close and personal a few times, but in the place of traditional glamour he has a softness, a playfulness about him that the others don’t seem to. He reminds you more of normal people than the other Avengers in the room, but you know it’s not innocence, it’s that Clint chooses to be that way, and you can’t help but be drawn in by his personality.

“So I was wondering if you had ever been eaten out?” Clint asks.

You feel your cheeks heat up and you know you’re blushing which after everything else seems kind of ridiculous.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ but I’d be glad to remedy the situation,” Clint offers with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You giggle because unlike the others, Clint isn’t what you’d call suave. He’s awkward in every way — bumping into things when he walks and then making jokes that sound more like someone your age rather than an adult fifteen years your senior. But he’s nice and he isn’t pretending to be cool just to make you like him.

It’s that sincerity that helps you decide to say “yes” to his offer. He doesn’t seem like he would, or even could, lie about how excited he is to put his mouth there.

Clint smiles and waggles his eyebrows again. “Spread ‘em for me, gorgeous,” he instructs.

You do as you’re asked, even though you’ve only ever had this part of yourself on eye level with someone else at the doctor’s office. It’s a little daunting but Clint looks like he’s gotten an entire cherry pie to himself so you’re confident that at least he knows what’s going on.

You giggle when he kisses the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t expected it and you’re surprisingly ticklish there, but Clint turns the kiss into gentle sucking. When he moves his mouth to the other thigh, there’s a purple mark left in his wake.

He works his way up your thighs — kissing, sucking, licking. It’s funny and sexy at the same time, partly because while he does that he’s rubbing your outer folds with his fingers. It’s not getting you off, not like you would be doing if you were alone in the shower, but it feels good and it wakes up everything that had more or less gone to sleep earlier when you took that nap.

Soon he’s nudging your folds with his tongue. He doesn’t push between them, not yet, but you can already feel how wet you are, how ready you are to take him inside you.

But he doesn’t offer you his manhood which lies somewhere further down the bed, likely trapped underneath him as he concentrates on you. You wriggle your hips in the hopes that he’ll understand just how desperate you are, but he just chuckles and dips his tongue in.

He’s wet and warm and oh so soft again your delicate skin. His tongue moves in deliberate strokes from your entrance all the way up to your swollen pearl and then back down again. It’s so good but not nearly enough. You want his attention on the delicate bundle of nerves at the top of your folds, but he’s teasing you.

“Clint,” you whine in mock misery. “Come on.”

He looks up at you from between your legs and you can see the laugh lines that crinkle around his eyes. Clint licks you up and down again without breaking eye contact before he pulls away. A corner of the sheet is unceremoniously liberated from the bed and Clint uses it to wipe his mouth.

“Hey, Bruce. I think he’s bored. You should get over here,” Clint calls.

You hear Steve and Tony both chuckle but your eyes are on Bruce who’s already walking your way. Bruce is, like Clint, isn’t like the other three Avengers. But unlike Clint, Bruce isn’t all muscle. He’s soft around the middle and his muscles are covered with a layer of padding. His hair is salt and pepper and curls in little ringlets all around his head. You’ve heard the news reports, Dr. Bruce Banner prefers to be in the lab saving the world through science rather than fighting as the Hulk. That he values peaceful problem solving above violence, when for him violence comes easily, speaks volumes about his character. That, combined with the way he’s been careful about your wellbeing so far, makes you trust him enough that you wish you could find out what kind of lover he is.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts as he makes his way towards you. At some point when you weren’t watching, Bruce stripped down to his boxers. You can see the outline of him in his underwear and he’s clearly hard. You’d take him if given the choice, but unfortunately that doesn’t seem to be in the cards tonight.

Clint props himself up on his elbows with a dopey grin and watches as Bruce steps onto the bed.

“Let me get behind you,” Bruce says and you sit up, letting him settle behind you.

He puts his legs to either side of you, letting you lie back against him. You can feel his length warm and hard against the small of your back and you wriggle with how bad you want something in you.

Without warning Clint returns to his previous activity — licking, nipping, and sucking at your tender folds and the flesh that lies between them. His tongue pushes against your opening and you can feel the tip of it sink into the ring of muscle. You’re so focused on the sensation of Clint’s tongue that, at first, you miss Bruce moving his hands.

Bruce’s hands are warm on your skin and the contrast of his soft fingers with Clint’s calloused ones is surprising. Bruce moves his hands down your chest to your stomach and back up like Steve had done at the beginning of all of this. He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. You gasp because the sensation only adds to what Clint’s doing.

And Clint is sucking your clit with devotion.

A rough finger probes tentatively at your opening and then slides in. Clint pumps his hand a few times, dragging the pad of it along the front wall of your channel. You moan and rock your hips, clenching his finger deeply inside you.

Bruce bends over you just enough to get his mouth on your ear and suck. It’s unexpectedly arousing. The tickle of pleasure trickles down your neck as Bruce licks and nibbles, and it joins the pleasure building elsewhere.

Clint surprises you, pulling his finger out and coming back not with two, but three. It’s so much suddenly and there’s a bit of sting from all your rough treatment earlier, but it’s quickly overwhelmed by Clint’s attention to your spit-slick and shiny little nub. And those pleasures combined with Bruce’s efforts have you coming hard around Clint’s fingers only moments later. Both of them keep pleasuring you even after you’re been reduced to little aftershocks and whimpers.

“Please, please,” you gasp, desperate for a little reprieve.

Their movements slow and then stop, though their hands never leave you. You close your eyes and let yourself rest for a moment. Even after that amazing orgasm you’re still too keyed up to consider being done and when you open your eyes Clint is kneeling between your spread legs smiling.

“Enjoy it?” he asks and you nod.

“Ready for round two?” he asks.

You smile. “Definitely.”

Clint breaks into a full grin and nudges your thighs wider with his knees before lowering himself down over you. He’s already in position so that his length lines up perfectly with your entrance. A slow roll of his hips sheaths him full inside you on a single stroke and suddenly you’re so full that you can’t think. Your hands scramble for something to grab onto, anything to ground you against the onslaught of sensation and pleasure.

Leaning over you Clint reaches towards Bruce, and Bruce meets him halfway. Their lips brush softly at first but the kiss deepens as Clint’s rhythm increases. You watch, your eyes half lidded and your mouth agape, as the two of them make out above you.

It takes a moment to sink in, your brain all fuzzy from pleasure, but you realize that Bruce can taste you on Clint’s lips and tongue. What’s more, Bruce can taste you and he’s not complaining — instead he’s licking into Clint’s mouth like it’s the best thing he’s tasted all year. As they kiss you can feel Bruce’s manhood twitch against your back, his interest definitely clear.

After a minute, they break apart. Bruce is breathing harder now and he’s obviously making an effort to calm down. Clint’s eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open in pleasure.

Then, Clint stops for a moment and shuffles his knees forward and drawing himself up to kneeling. With a hand under each knee he lifts your legs up, draping your calves over his shoulders. Then, with his hands on your hips he starts moving again.

The angle is different like this and it’s so much more intense. You almost can’t moan because each thrust punches the air out of you and you’re reduced to the small whimpers that you can’t control.

Behind you Bruce takes your wrists in his hands. It doesn’t change anything because you weren’t using your hands, but being held tight, even when a word would earn you your freedom, is unbelievably thrilling. The power differential from age and social status is subsumed by the helplessness of being held fast while someone fucks you.

Your head spins with the sudden shift in your situation. It’s the single hottest thing you’ve ever done; your deepest desires don’t begin to compare to this.

Clint reaches between your legs and begins to rub your clit in time with his thrusting. A loud groan tears from your throat and you instinctively try to move your arms. But Bruce holds you tightly and the thrill of being restrained, combined with Clint’s earnest efforts, makes you come immediately.

You shudder and moan through your climax and the aftershocks, and then Clint comes too, his hips stuttering as he finishes inside of you. He leans against your legs, breathing hard and grinning.

“Goddamn that was fun,” he says.

“Uh huh,” you agree with a weak nod.

Behind you Bruce chuckles and loosens his grip on your wrists. He starts rubbing them gently, as though maybe he hurt you and you smile at his tenderness.

Clint disengages from you carefully, making you shudder as he slides out, and you can feel the trickle of his fluids as they begin to seep out of you. You know that you must be full now between Steve and Clint, not mention your own juices. It’s an odd wet feeling, but it’s a good one.

Slowly, Clint lays your legs down on the bed. You can feel a distinct wet spot underneath you now, and it’s cool and slightly uncomfortable, but you have more important things on your mind. One of those things is the way that Clint has stretched out next to you and is running his fingers through your hair.

He’s gentle and thoughtful but it’s different with Clint. Steve was more like a lover, and Tony was, well, not a lover per se, but intimate in his own way. Clint isn’t either of those. It’s like having sex with a friend, something the both of you do for fun, no strings attached. It’s just a great way to pass the time.

“You all good?” asks Clint after a quiet minute.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Clint.”

“Hey, no problem, y/n,” he replies. He leans forward, kissing you right in the middle of the forehead and it seems just right — a friendly act of affirmation after an act of intimacy.

He pats you on the shoulder, giving you his bright, silly smile, and then gets up. Bruce slides out from behind you. He’s still hard, but he doesn’t seem to really care. He smiles at you and leans down for a kiss. It’s light, just a brush of lips, and then he pulls away.

“Thanks for letting me join in,” he says.

You couldn’t imagine having done it without him — his tenderness, his clever hands, the way he held you down for Clint. “I really enjoyed having you here,” you reply and he smiles.

“Well, that only leaves Thor,” Tony declares from behind you.

Bruce chuckles and climbs the rest of the way out of the bed, his curly hair all mussed up in the back from where he was lying back in the bed.

“Aye, I am the remaining Avenger in this adventure of yours. Do you still desire to continue? There shall be no hard feelings should you choose to be done,” Thor declares.

You wriggle yourself up to sitting, the wet spot cold at the back of your thighs. Your folds are tender as they rub against the bed, and you’re tired. You could be done. But also when are you going to get another chance to have sex with the God of Thunder? Probably never. Being a little more sore and tired tomorrow seems totally worth it.

“I’m ready if you are,” you declare.

“Damn,” Tony mutters.

“That’s my girl,” cheers Clint.

Thor grins. “Excellent. Let us begin.”

You watch as he stands. He’s tall, taller even than Steve, and bigger in every way that you can see. But it’s the ways that you can’t see yet, not with his clothes on, that you’re most interested in.

Thor crosses the distance to the bed in two long strides and then steps up onto the bed itself. He steps, standing over you, and then kneels over your lap, running his hand over your cheek. His hand is enormous, nearly encompassing the entire side of your head, but he’s gentle and careful in his touches.

Just like Steve, you can feel the restrained power in his body and it makes you shiver.

“Let us not tarry, then. I know that you must be tired,” Thor says quietly, and like Steve had done, he speaks only to you, as though there’s no one else in the room.

Pulling away from you, he tugs his shirt off over his head in just one quick movement. His chest and stomach and arms and just everything really, it’s all so perfect. Where Steve looked like a marble statue — perfectly sculpted and flawless — Thor looks like a granite statue. His body looks hard enough to weather the ages and he seems like he’s made of the stuff of mountains.

As he undoes the button and fly on his pants, Thor locks eyes with you. Watching your every expression as he pulls his pants and underwear down exposing himself to you. You look down not just because you want to but because you he wants you to and is waiting.

It takes you a moment to process what you’re seeing. Thor’s manhood, or maybe it should be called a godhood, is enormous. There’s a moment where you have to wonder if it’s going to fit, but then you remember that babies come out of there and Thor may be large, but he’s not baby-large, maybe more like coke-can-large. You take a deep breath, doing your best to remain calm and convince yourself that this is doable. Certainly if it weren’t Steve would be warning you, but he’s silent behind you along with the others.

“We’ll have to go slow,” you finally say.

“I should think so,” is all the reply that Thor gives you.

He takes his pants the rest of the way off and then presses you back down onto the bed as he moves in between your legs. You’re still wet and soft from Clint, but Thor takes no chances, grabbing the lube and slicking both himself and you thoroughly. The head of his length presses firmly against your entrance, but he makes no effort to enter you. Instead, he simply keeps pressure against you, rocking back and forth ever so slightly.

In the meantime, there is more than enough to keep you busy. He leans over you, close enough that you can feel the heat from his body. You run your hands over those perfect muscles and he runs his hands over you. It’s flattering to be the object of desire for an actual god.

Thor kisses you deeply, taking control immediately and you don’t fight him. As he explores your mouth with his tongue, his hands — like everyone else’s — gravitate to your breasts and then your nipples. Honestly, it’s no hardship to be so thoroughly handled and pleasured all over your body. Thor bites his way up your neck and you tilt your head to the side to allow him better access. It feels so good and if he weren’t already pressing hard against your entrance it wouldn’t be nearly enough.

You run your hands down his chest, over his incredible pecs, and find his nipples. Just a light flick and Thor groans unabashedly, rocking harder against you involuntarily. You can feel his hardness stretching you open, wider than you’ve ever been before, and it hurts. You gasp in surprise at the discomfort.

“Is it too much?” Thor asks, pulling enough so that his member is no longer stretching the muscle there.

“Just a little sudden,” you say. “I’m fine.”

Thor nods, though he looks at you questioningly. Slowly he dips his head back down and begins again to take you apart with his mouth and hands, rocking against you all the while.

Eventually, you feel the head of him penetrate you again, your body finally stretched enough from his patient efforts to accept him into you. It’s an incredible sensation, being so full, and even though it’s not yet entirely comfortable you want it.

You spread your legs further apart, planting your feet on the bed to give you the leverage to angle your hips up. The new angle gives Thor a straighter path and lets him drive deeper into you with every thrust. Everything tingles, your skin buzzing with the pleasant hum of electricity as his pleasure grows.

It takes several more minutes of this, but soon he’s buried deeply inside of you. His hips are flush with yours and you can feel how his length, and he is long, presses roughly against the back wall of your channel. He rests there, letting you stretch around him and get used to his size, before pulling out on one long stroke. The slide in that follows is so good that you come around him instantly, your muscles clenching rhythmically around his godhood, as you’ve decided to think of it. Your whole body shakes and shudders through the climax and Thor continues to move in you, wringing every ounce of pleasure from you that he can.

Even as the pleasure of your climax recedes, Thor is moving more quickly. Your whole body moves with the force of him entering into you, and you feel like a ragdoll being pushed and pulled this way and that. Thor is not unaffected because the buzz of electricity from earlier has turned to a dull thrum and thunder rolls off in the distance.

Still limp and tired from everything you’ve done so far, as well as your most recent orgasm, you just lie there, gripping Thor’s magnificent biceps while he rails you into the bed.

You lose track of time, caught up in the sensation and the exhilaration of it all, so that by the time Thor comes you’ve had two more amazing orgasms and are floating, awash in an ocean of sensation. The heavy rain of a thunderstorm beating against the large windows on the far wall of the conference room and the low roll of thunder is the background noise to the end of your evening, lulling you towards sleep.

You lie there, tired and sated. At some point, Thor pulled out of you and lay down beside you, but you must have been too tired to notice. It doesn’t matter though; he’s holding you in his arms and running his hand comfortingly over your thigh.

“You are exhausted,” Thor observes when you open your eyes. You smile and nod in agreement.

Thor leans over you and kisses you thoroughly but slowly, without the haste of earlier. Then, slowly, sweetly Thor ends the kiss with a light a brush of his lips against yours, and then a little kiss to the top of your head.

“Your stamina exceeds that of many mortals. Thank you, y/n, for letting me enjoy this with you.”

“Thank you, God of Thunder,” you reply quietly. Thor smiles in response, the corners of his eyes crinkling again as he smiles.

“You are most welcome, y/n.”

Then, he kisses your hand and sits up.

Movement catches your eye and sluggishly you turn to see Steve standing at the foot of the bed. He’s wearing pajama pants now, though nothing under them which you can tell by the way the too tight pants cup his groin. There’s a white bathrobe draped over one arm and he’s smiling at you in a way that reminds you of looking at the sun.

Thor offers you a hand and you take it, letting him pull you to sitting.

“Ow,” you hiss as the change in position puts pressure on your swollen folds. Immediately, Bruce joins Steve at the foot of the bed, a worried look on his face.

“I think you should lie back down, y/n,” he suggests.

You consider telling him no because honestly you don’t think it’s anything but a bit of soreness, but he’s the doctor after all. You lie back down and Thor kisses your hand before tugging a blanket over to you. It is cooling off now that you’re not pinned under an actual god and the blanket is a welcome addition.

“Good night, y/n. I hope that we were not too vigorous in our bed play,” Thor says quietly.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you say and Thor nods, getting up.

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce says.

In the meantime, Steve settles beside you, the robe deposited on the bed nearby. Thor tugs his clothes on, and with a smile he leaves.

Tony gets up off the bed and comes to stand at the end of the bed, his hands in his pants pockets. He’s got his undershirt on again, covering all the scars on his chest. He looks a little rumpled, though dress clothes are always more prone to looking rumpled than everyday wear, and he carries his button-up, vest, and loafers in one hand.

“I’m really sorry about the invitation mix up. I never meant for you to come here out of confusion, but I’m glad it turned out alright. You did enjoy yourself, right?” Tony asks.

“Yeah, I really did. Thanks.”

You’re glad to see the smile that Tony gives you in reply because mask of calm and control that he was wearing when you arrived had been replaced by something darker and far less happy than the occasion calls for.

“Alright, well, thanks again, y/n. I had a great time. Take care.”

With that Tony turns and leaves the room as well. And then it’s just you and Steve.

“So losing your virginity to four fellas at once, how’d that feel?” Steve asks.

“Exhausting, but good.”

Steve smiles again, his blue eyes shining like sapphires. “I’m glad.”

It’s at that moment that your stomach rumbles and you realize how hungry you are.

“Want something to eat?” Steve asks with a chuckle.

“God yes.”

“Sorry, Thor’s already gone. You’ll have to make do with just me,” Steve says with laugh.

Before you can make fun of his terrible joke, he vaults over the back of the sofa with the grace of a gazelle. You can hear him rustling around in the kitchenette behind you. It’s too much effort to sit up and see, and sitting up doesn’t really appeal to you at the moment anyway. It doesn’t take Steve very long to pile a paper plate high with snacks and then return to you on the sofa.

Looking at all that food suddenly makes the prospect of sitting up more a lot more enticing because trying to eat lying down is just asking to choke on something, nevermind the inevitable crumbs. You scoot up, trying to find a halfway position that’s comfortable but not going to lead to choking and Steve crushing you while attempting the Heimlich maneuver. Unfortunately, the position is awkward and you feel like you’re going to slide back down at any minute.

“Just bend your knees,” Steve suggests. You’re annoyed that he’s offering you a solution to such a simple problem — both at him and at yourself for being too tired to come up with it — but he’s so earnest and sincere that you can’t be too upset.

You readjust and you’re almost comfortable when Bruce comes back in with a small tray in his hands. He’s already gloved up and is looking a lot less playful than he was earlier.

“Sorry to interrupt, I’m sure you’re starving. This shouldn’t take but a minute,” Bruce says.

Steve shrugs apologetically and repossesses the plate of food, setting it off to the side. You scoot back down the bed — again — until you’re flat on your back with your knees still bent.

“May I?” Bruce asks as he lifts the edge of the blanket. It seems almost silly that he would ask now, after everything else, but he’s just trying to be respectful.

“Sure,” you reply.

Bruce pulls the blanket back and folds it over your knees. “I’m just going to touch a little. I’ll do my best to be gentle.”

His fingers are cool against your skin and the gloves feel strange. He’s moving the little pen light around as he gently parts your folds and touches the soft skin around your entrance. It’s tender, no two ways about it and as he circles your entrance you can’t help but hiss. Steve immediately grabs your hand while Bruce murmurs apologies.

The exam only takes a minute and then Bruce pulls the blanket back down. “You’ve got some abrasions and a little raw spot, probably a fair amount of bruising, but nothing unexpected. I’ve got some ibuprofen you can take. Also, birth control. We should talk about that.”

The results of the exam are about what you expected and the offer of ibuprofen sounds great. But the mention of birth control makes your blood run cold. How did you not think of that? How did you get so caught up in the whirlwind of that was sex with all the men from the Avengers team that you forgot that you could get pregnant?

Your panic must show on your face because Steve is immediately beside you and Bruce has his hands up like he’s surrendering, though to what you’re not exactly sure.

“Hey, it’s okay. I brought you a Plan B,” Bruce reassures you. You let out a breath that hadn’t realized you were holding. You go through a brief lecture about the medication and Bruce makes sure you don’t have anything to stop you from taking it. Everything is fine and Bruce leaves you with a quiet “good night,” the Plan B, and some extra ibuprofen for later.

You get settled again, take the meds, and eat your fill. Steve helps you into the robe and then scoops you off of the fold out bed, carrying you down the hall. You take the elevator up a few floors and Steve carries you down a hall to a seemingly random door. The door opens as you approach making you wonder if that disembodied voice from the elevator when you arrived was part of some bigger computer system that runs the building.

“This is a guest suite. There are a couple of bedrooms here. I’ll be in one and you’ll have the other. If at any point you need anything you can always shout,” Steve explains.

He doesn’t take you to the bedroom though. There’s a bathroom across the hall and he stops in there. “I figured you’d want a shower first.”

A shower sounds amazing, but you’d rather just sleep and deal with the mess in the morning. Steve tactfully leaves the bathroom and you take care of your business. There’s a stack of pajamas on the counter which are miraculously your size and you pull them on before stumbling back into the hall.

Steve is waiting there with his attentive face on. You’re reminded of all the history classes you took where he was featured, how they described him in terms of virtues like honor, loyalty, responsibility, heroism, dedication. The stories weren’t all accurate, something discussed at length after he was found and able to refute them, but in general Steve does seem to be those things, at least to you. But he’s more than that too — thoughtful and kind, not things that came up often in discussions about the war. You’d consider comparing him to a steadfast dog companion but that just seems awkward after you’ve had sex.

He smiles and you feel warm again. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he says.

The bedroom is all warm colors and is decorated minimally but with a hefty budget. There’s a king sized bed with an inordinate amount of pillows piled on it. The carpet is so soft you wouldn’t mind sleeping there either. And the paintings all look like originals, rather than prints. But all you have eyes for is the bed. Steve beats you there and turns down the blankets, allowing you to climb in.

Steve tucks you in and smiles. “Need anything else?”

You want him to stay. Tonight has been good but it’s been a lot, and right now you feel small and vulnerable after all of those big, strong men had their ways with you. Having someone hold you and make you feel safe is all you really want, but asking for it seems needy and you’re not sure how to explain.

You think too long and by the time you gather your thoughts enough to tell him that you’re fine and wish him good night, he’s got his concerned face on.

“Do you not want to be alone?” he asks seriously, as though that’s important to him.

But embarrassed or not this is your opening and you take it, saying, “Not really, no.”

His concern vanishes and he goes to the other side of the bed where he slides between the covers. You scoot a little closer but not too close, still self-conscious, but Steve just slips an arm under you and pulls you close. You rest your head on his chest, right over his heart, and you can hear it beating loudly in his chest.

“Good night and sweet dreams,” Steve tells you. Then the light turns off and you’re left with lights of the city that filter in through the window and the soft patter of rain against the glass.

Warm, safe, and very well sated, you fall deeply asleep in the arms of Steve Rogers, aka Captain America.

Chapter Text

“Ugh, it’s been two weeks since y/n was here,” Clint whines as he stuffs another handful of cheetos into his mouth.

“I know. She’s the best we’ve had,” Steve agrees sadly.

“Well, everyone else has had enough self-preservation to stay the hell away from the idea of gang banging the entire team in a night,” Bruce points out.

“I agree, but there is no use to your whining. I, for one, desire release. Does anyone care to join me?” Thor asks.

“Wooo! Circle jerk!” Clint shouts, licking his orange fingers and then wiping them on his pants.

There’s a laugh from Thor, who finds Clint’s antics endlessly amusing, and a groan from Tony, who can’t be bothered. But all the same everyone makes some space so that Steve and Clint can open the fold out bed. It’s been cleaned since y/n was here, but it still holds memories.

Everyone piles on, getting comfortable like they’re sitting around a campfire and roasting marshmallows. There’s a small symphony of button popping and zipper pulling as everyone gets their dicks out. Bruce sits beside Thor, and Thor takes his dick in hand. Bruce takes Tony, Tony takes Steve, Steve takes Clint, and Clint takes Thor.

Everyone knows what the others like, working from root to tip, some with little twisting motions, some just firm and steady. The room begins to smell like musk and the air is filled with bitten off gasps, grunts, and moans as they work each other to hardness.

“Bruce,” Tony complains as Bruce drags a shocked breath out of him with a particularly deft twist of the wrist. Tony thinks it’s criminally unfair that his lab partner can take him apart so thoroughly, but he’s not exactly upset about it.

“Just imagine it’s y/n,” Clint moans. “God she was so good.”

“I bet her mouth was just right,” Steve adds, goading Tony.

Tony moans, squeezing Steve’s cock in mock retaliation. But Steve just bucks his hips into it, the tightness of Tony’s fist adding to his pleasure.

It takes a few minutes, but Tony comes first, followed nearly immediately by Clint.

“That was unexpected, Barton,” Steve mutters as Clint licks Steve’s hand clean, sucking Steve’s fingers long after they’re clean.

“Tony’s hot when he comes. Whaddya want me to say?”

Bruce has taken his shirt off and is using it to wipe his hand clean while Tony turns all his attention to Steve. Unencumbered by the effort of getting a partner off, Steve leans back on both hands, his eyes slipping closed.

Clint doesn’t even bother to put himself away, just sits there watching Thor’s face as he uses both hands to really work Thor’s godhood. Thor, like Steve, radiates absolute power, especially when aroused, and Clint is hot for it every time.

Thor, though he’s enjoying himself, is working Bruce slowly and deliberately. It’s enough to be enjoyable and keep Bruce aroused but not enough for him to get close to coming, which is, at least for now, the point.

“God my arm is tired,” Tony complains after about ten minutes of jacking Steve without a break.

“Well maybe if you were a little- a little more creative I’d be done by now,” Steve says, his breath raspy from the pleasure.

“Oh creative, huh? Fine I can do that,” Tony says. It’s meant to sound a little threatening but the thought of Tony trying to be menacing with a hand job just turns Steve on more. Goading Tony generally goes one of two ways. The worst way means that Tony might get pissy, but the best way he’ll put his scientific mind to good use and come up with something mind blowing. Either way, Steve isn’t exactly worried.

Steve’s eyes are closed, thinking of how he rocked into y/n and how she trusted him with her virginity, so it comes as a total shock when Tony carefully bites one of Steve’s nipples through his shirt. Tony repeats the action on the other side and the mix of pleasure, pain, and the adrenaline from the surprise makes Steve come with a strangled shout. Tony ends up with a superhuman amount of come on his hand, not that he cares because it’s not the first time and the shock has long since worn off, and he uses the come to stroke Steve through his orgasm until he’s shuddering with overstimulation.

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve gasps out, his chest still heaving from his climax.

“Yeah, no problem, Capsicle. Besides, I learned that trick from y/n. She really had you going, playing with your magnificent tits,” Tony replies.

Steve snorts in amusement, but doesn’t argue the point. Apparently, Steve got Tony in science-mode today which meant that all the careful observations during their incredible night two weeks prior just got put to really good use.

Clint is still getting Thor off with dedication, both hands wrapped around his dick and pulling as fast as he can. Thor’s starting to show signs that he’s getting closer — little involuntary twitches of his hips, sounds he can’t quite contain, and the crackle of electricity that makes the air smell faintly of ozone.

Steve tucks himself back in his pants and zips up, scooting behind Thor. Thor lets his head tip back and rest against Steve’s chest as Steve slips his hands under Thor’s shirt, rubbing over Thor’s torso.

“Steven,” Thor pants.

Steve holds him tight and sinks his teeth brutally into the side of Thor’s neck. The pressure isn’t enough to do real damage, not to an Asgardian, but it still hurts and Thor moans and bucks into Clint’s hand while pulling away from Steve. Steve follows Thor’s movements, still holding him close, and moves his mouth up just a bit, biting again. Steve continues moving and biting while Thor shifts and arches away from the pain until Thor finally comes with a roar and a clap of thunder, when Steve bites while viciously twisting Thor’s nipples at the same time. After Thor has had a moment to recover and sit up, Steve slips his hands out of Thor’s shirt and goes over to sit on the sectional with Tony.

Wiping his hands on Bruce’s already dirty shirt, Clint leans up for a well-earned kiss from Thor. Bruce leans forward as well and Clint practically pounces.

“Mmm, enjoy your orgasm babe,” Clint says between kisses.

“I will. Thor’s got great hands,” Bruce replies.

Clint nods while still trying to kiss Bruce. “He really does.”

“Still wish it could be you,” Bruce mumbles into Clint’s mouth.

“Aw, babe there’s more to you than just getting off, but I understand,” Clint says.

“Come on, Clint,” Steve cajoles. “Let Thor finish him off.”

“Ugh fine,” Clint mutters, tearing himself away from Bruce.

Clint tucks his dick away, and picking up his bowl of cheetos, joins Steve and Tony on the sofa. Thor moves Bruce to the center of the room and strips him to avoid ruining any more of Bruce’s wardrobe. Then Thor begins to work Bruce fast and hard. Even subject to Thor’s clever hands, Bruce’s breathing stays steady as he fights to remain in control, eager to enjoy his pleasure for as long as possible before the Other Guy takes over.

But Thor is thorough, using both his mouth and other hand elsewhere on Bruce’s body to push him towards completion. After years of practicing self-control Bruce could keep himself on the brink of coming for hours if not for the extra stimuli, so Thor — as the only person who can safely take Bruce over the edge — goes all in.

When Bruce starts to lose control, the first sign is the change in his breathing and the little spasmodic twitches of his fingers. From there it’s only a moment until the Hulk is in Bruce’s place, roaring and bucking, his thick green member clasped tightly in Thor’s hands.

The climax rips out of Hulk a moment later, a veritable fountain of come spurting onto his stomach and chest. As the shocks of the orgasm fade, Hulk abruptly shrinks and collapses back into Bruce. He lies there, nearly completely soaked in the Hulk’s come.

“You didn’t hit anyone or break anything this time!” Thor congratulates him.

“Great,” Bruce says weakly. “Also, I’m thirsty.”

Between all of them the team gets towels, helps Bruce clean up, and gets him some water and protein bars to make up for what he’s lost. Then they all pile on the sofa for post orgasm naps and movie time.

“No offense guys, this was great, but I still prefer y/n,” Tony says while Clint flicks through Netflix and curls around Bruce like a particularly needy cat.

“We know, Tony,” Steve answers sadly. “I think we all feel the same way.”

Chapter Text

You lean back in your chair and listen as some new guy bawls his eyes out about how his wife left him because of his porn habit. All the stories are the same — I cheated, I got hepatitis/HIV/herpes, my wife left, my life is shit. You’d be tempted to judge him if your story were any better, but it’s not.

For five years you’ve come to the same meeting every week and for five years you’ve sat here wondering how the hell to move on with life. Ever since that night with the Avengers when you first lost your virginity, sex has been unsatisfying. It’s never as good, it’s never enough. You’ve done some crazy things and been in some dangerous situations to chase that high, but it’s always felt empty.

When you want a gentleman to woo you and bed you tenderly like Steve did, they’ve only ever got five minutes of patience for slow and passionate before they want to get rough.

When you want witty and sauve like Tony, you end up with some gamer bro who makes sexist jokes but doesn’t realize how gross he is.

When you want a friend like Clint or Bruce, someone to make jokes and care about your wellbeing in equal measure, they act like they’re doing you a favor (nevermind that one guy during you junior year who tried to pay you because he thought you were a sex worker since you didn’t do “romance”).

When you look for big strong men to hold you down and use you like Thor did, they always end up being gym bros who try to compensate for their lack of skill with their finely sculpted pecs.

So when you joined the force fresh out of undergrad, your criminology degree in hand, you knew you had to kick the habit. Honestly, not having sex was hard at first, but it wasn’t the hardest part since you weren’t really getting anything good out of it anyway. The hardest part ended up being what the group asked you to believe.

Step 6: Be completely willing for God to remove the character defect of lust and sexual addiction.

College did away with your belief in god (well college and the Chitauri), and it also opened your mind to sex-positivity. Suddenly there wasn’t a need to moralize about sex or promiscuity or kinks. It felt good to like what you liked without having to carry the albatross of guilt around your neck all the time. So going back to that, to “admitting” that you have a character “defect” for having high libido and non-conventional kinks — it seems puritanical at best and you’ve never managed to buy into it.

But even though you’re probably never going to make it to step twelve you keep coming to meetings because at least these are people who understand what it’s like to want the way you want. And not all of it is bad. A lot of the sponsors are good people and there’s good advice that floats around. Mostly though, it gives you somewhere to be where you’re not out cruising for someone to stuff you so full of cock that you can’t walk straight the next day.

Thankfully your promotion to detective has done a lot towards cutting personal, and therefore cruising, time out of your life. Case in point — your work phone buzzes halfway into the meeting.

You pull your phone out and read the text — something that earns you a glare from one of the long time members. Of course it’s a case at 8:30 at night. You sigh, stuff it back in your pocket, and get up.

“Everything alright, y/n?”

It’s a loaded question. Late night calls and texts are often hookups and the group is watching and waiting for your response. Your badge and your gun are in the glovebox of your car because being a cop in a space like this makes people uncomfortable. Still, it’s common knowledge that you’re on the force, but that doesn’t earn you a pass from scrutiny.

“Yeah, it’s just work. Lady found her neighbor by the smell. Looks like a B&E gone bad according to the uniforms. I’m gonna head over there now to start interviews,” you answer and you see several of the members cringe.

Honestly, that’s not information that you ought to be handing out, but the last thing you need right now is your long-suffering sponsor calling you after the meeting and asking questions you don’t want to answer.

The judgmental looks melt off the faces of the group, and even though you’re not close with any of them, it’s a relief. This is one place where no one judges you for what happened with Steve, Tony, Clint, Bruce, and Thor. It’s the one place where the whirlwind sexual encounters that followed that night are accepted with understanding nods instead of disgust and rejection.

“Be careful out there, y/n,” says one of the long-timers.

You smile. “Thanks, Jerry. I’ll catch you guys next week.”

Chapter Text

Okay, so the neighbor-lady had not been wrong about the smell. Franklin Benson was not the first dead guy you’d seen in this state of decomp and you had the Vick’s already rubbed under your nose, but damn it was gross.

The uniforms who’d responded to the call hot-footed it out of there as soon as you arrived at the scene. The ME and CSU were on their way, but this late at night they could take hours. To kill time you talked to the neighbors and the building super, but nobody really knew the tenant that well. After only half an hour you’d exhausted all of your potential witnesses and so you found a place to sit in the vic’s apartment to wait.

Of course the only space of any value was the fire escape. You closed the door to the apartment to secure the scene and to save the other renters from the hellish odor that poured forth from the open door.

You’ve been on the fire escape for nearly an hour when you hear the sound of someone gently twisting the knob on the front door. The ME and CSU both would have texted ahead or knocked at the very least. You draw your weapon and slip in quietly through the window. There’s a small alcove off to the side and you situate yourself in there quietly to see what, if anything, comes of the doorknob jiggling.

It’s not ten seconds later that you hear the telltale click of the last tumbler in the lock sliding into place. The door eases open with a creak and someone says, “NYPD’s not here. I’ll see what I can find before CSU shows up.”

That’s all you needed to hear. You jump out, you gun raised, and shout, “NYPD! Hands in the… Steve?”

“Y/n?” he asks, eyes wide.

“What the hell are you doing here? This is my crime scene,” you demand, gun still drawn.

Steve’s hands are up and he looks at you with alarm. “Your crime scene? You made detective already?”

“Shut up. Why are you here?”

Steve sighs. “The dead guy is tied to a HYDRA cell we’ve been tracking. We’re trying to see if this was a simple B&E or if it was a hit for information. Our usual team member for this is out of town.”

Finally, you lower your gun, though you’re still pissed. “Do you have a warrant?”

“No,” Steve answers very unapologetically. “We tend not to operate with local jurisdictions due to the classified nature of the information.”

“Oh great. This is going to be a paperwork nightmare.”

Steve frowns. “I’m sorry, y/n. I meant to be in and out before CSU got here. The case is still yours, I just need to confiscate any intel.”

“Oh, the case is still mine? How thoughtful. Now I can work a homicide that I know I’ll never close but I still have to put in the hours because I have no way to explain to my superiors why it’s unsolvable. And then, when I can finally call it cold, I can let it drag my solve rate down. Yes. Perfect plan there, Steve.”

You watch Steve’s mouth open and close, vaguely satisfied by how flustered he is.

“Okay, um, let me make a call,” he finally says.

You nod and go stand back by the window where the air is almost breathable. He’s barely begun dialing when he comes over to stand by you.

“How do you stand it?” he asks looking a little green around the gills.

You grab the Vick’s out of your pocket and hand it to him. “It doesn’t get rid of the smell, but it helps.”

Steve pins the phone between his shoulder and cheek and unscrews the lid from the Vick’s, getting a liberal amount on his forefinger and rubbing it under his nose.

“Maria, hey, I got a situation. Turns out NYPD was inside and I know the detective… Yeah, I know. My question… Maria, I… Yes, I’ll hold.”

Steve finishes screwing the lid back of the jar and hands it back. The look of frustration and embarrassment on his face is enough to do away with the remainder of your ire at how badly out of hand this situation has gotten. You ought to be calling your Sergeant to let him know that something is going on, but you’re curious to see how exactly Steve plans to get you out of this situation. Plus, his determination is kinda cute.

Watching him, the way his slouchy hoodie and torn up jeans fail to conceal the bulk of him, you’re reminded of that night nearly eight years ago. You’ve tried too hard to put that behind you — they ruined you for anyone else after that night — but seeing him again you can’t help but be hopelessly turned on.

“Uh huh. So can we just get a warrant?”

Whoever Steve is talking to must be back on the line and you listen closely, hoping to hear whatever they’re saying. You can’t make anything out, but she sounds more than a little peeved. The way Steve only barely suppresses a full-body cringe tells you that she might be a bit more upset than just peeved.

“Alright, I can do that, Maria. Sorry about this. Thanks.”

He taps the screen with his thumb and then slips the phone into in his pocket.

“My boss is going to take care of the paperwork and call over to the precinct to get this straightened out. You won’t have to worry about this,” Steve assures you.

“Thanks,” you say. You’re grateful that he’s gone to his supervisors to get the heat taken off of you, even though it probably means more work for him.

He leans against the window frame and crosses his ankles. “So detective already?”

You nod, flushed and warm from the praise. “Yep, last year. You can take the test after three years on the force and I aced it.”

Steve smiles. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You seemed so smart and full of potential.”

“That what you tell all the young girls you bring back to the Tower?” You’re not bitter, not really, but the thought has crossed your mind once or twice in the intervening years.

Steve has the good sense to look chastened and shakes his head. “That- what happened- we only tried that a few times. You were the last time.”

“Oh, it was that bad, huh?” you joke, feeling angry and hurt in equal measure.

Steve looks at you with wide eyes. “No. Not that at all. No one ever wanted all of us besides you, no one ever considered any of us to be people. Not individually, not together. We’re myths, legends, but never just people. But you treated us like individuals and listened to our unique wants and desires. Everything else has kinda fallen short of you.”

And that’s not what you expected to hear at all. It’s thrilling, in a way. For so long you were angry — they had invited you up and taken advantage of your innocence only to ruin sex for you. As time went on you realized that you’d have gotten to the point where nothing was ever enough all on your own — the Avengers just helped you along. But suddenly, Steve’s saying that you were the same to them — that you ruined them for other people. It’s a powerful feeling, but you can’t help but be hurt that they didn’t ever try to call you if you were so great.

You want to ask Steve if there’s an opening with the team for an official Avengers’ Fuckbuddy, but you’ve been sober for eight months this time and you want to make your sponsor proud. So instead of saying something, the conversation lapses into silence.

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence your phone rings loudly. The screen says that it’s your Sergeant and you answer with it already about a foot from your ear.

“Y/N! I just got a call from some in some goddamn government agency saying that you’re in their crime scene! What the hell is going on?”

Steve makes an apologetic face and you shrug.

“Sir, I came here to secure the scene and I was waiting for CSU and the ME when an agent arrived to take possession of the scene-”

“And did he have the proper paperwork?” your Sergeant screams.

Steve nods vigorously. It’s all covered, he mouths.

“Uh, yes, sir. It all looks to be on the up and up, sir. I was going to call you but the agent’s partner said to wait for them to do it,” you explain.

“Well, what the hell are you still doing there, then?”

“The agent here asked for assistance and I was trying to build interagency rapport, sir, per our meeting with the deputy chief last week.”

Steve gives you a thumbs up and grins.

“Fine. But you’re not getting paid for the time.”

The phone beeps as he hangs up and you sigh, immediately regretful of the deep breath that you took.

“Is he always that fun?” Steve asks.

“He’s a fucking nightmare,” you answer. “You better have that paperwork or I’m gonna be hitting the pavement for a new job.”

“Maria’s sending it with her people. We’ll get it all straightened out. Don’t worry.”

You nod and beside you Steve shifts a little uncomfortably.

“So are you seeing anyone?” You can hear his hesitation and you smile.

“Nope, never have been able to make a relationship work,” you answer honestly.

Steve frowns. “Why not?”

“After that night with you guys, well. Let’s say I got into some interesting things and maintaining relationships came in way below things like dick size and kink compatibility.”

“God, we all screwed this up pretty bad didn’t we?” Steve asks.

“Yeah sure seems like it,” you agree. “So, uh, how far out is this team?”

Steve pulls out his phone again. “Forty-minutes.”

“Ugh.”

Steve shifts again and you look over to see him smiling at you. “I got an idea about how to kill some time.”

You look at him, and the smug smile on his face says he knows that you won’t say no. But the closer you look you realize that he’s not entirely sure. The confidence is just a front, the eagerness of his smile betrayed by the tension in his neck and jaw. You start to wonder how confident any of them actually were all those years ago. Maybe you seemed confident to them.

Potential revelations aside, it’s a tempting offer. But you’ve got eight months of sobriety under your belt and it’s your longest stretch so far. On the other hand, you were only ever waiting on them. You realize, maybe a little ruefully, that the moment you began to rationalize you had already made up your mind.

“Then let’s kill it,” you answer.

Steve smiles and then looks around. The apartment is woefully small — an open-plan living room-kitchen combo and through the door a bedroom with a bathroom. There’s not really anywhere that’s not in sight of the vic. There’s definitely nowhere that doesn’t reek.

“Kitchen’ll do,” you say, hitching your thumb towards the countertop.

Steve smiles and follows you across the living room. The smell is worse over here because you’re not standing by an open window, but you flick on the ventahood in hopes of pulling some of that fresh NYC air towards you. Nothing like smog to cover the odor of murder.

The countertop is standard — 36” high — and while Steve is a tree that you’d love to climb, he’s just not tall enough for you to be able to sit on the countertop while he fucks you. Conversely, you’re not tall enough for him to bend you over the edge and fuck you either. You notice a cooler on the top of the fridge and after a couple of indelicate swipes you manage to knock it down and grab it. It’s small, only big enough to hold lunch for a couple of people, but it’s sturdy enough for you to stand on. You set it on the floor in front of the counter and step up.

Steve joins you and stares momentarily at the cooler before smiling.

“You want it from behind?” he asks.

“Honey, I want it any way you’ll give it to me,” you answer.

Steve sidles up to you, his well toned arms sliding around your waist, his strong hands cupping the firm globes of your ass.

“Well, I guess we had better start by getting you out of these pants,” he says.

You couldn’t agree more and with one of your hands, which had previously rested on one of Steve’s shoulders while he mouthed at your neck, you move to reach for your belt.

“I got it,” he says, one of his hands stopping yours. You pause and he smiles, and slowly you pull your hand back up.

His lips are warm and demanding against yours, but you know what you want, you know how to get and how to give, and unlike all those years ago, you command the kiss. Steve doesn’t vie for control; he simply lets you lead, moaning his appreciation into your mouth as he works your belt open with one hand.

The sound of your fly is almost inaudible over the rush of blood in your ears, but you feel the vibrations of it in your skin. Then his hand slips into your pants, his fingers skimming over your folds, his skin only separated from yours by the fabric of your panties. It’s so good and not at all enough and you rock wantonly against his fingers.

“I’m wet enough,” you moan as one of his fingers slips under the edge of your panties.

“I’ll say,” Steve murmurs.

He works your slacks and panties down while he kisses you, and when you’re bare, he turns you, bending you over the edge of the tiled countertop. The tile is cool and it feels so good against your flushed skin. You breathe deep as he runs his hands over your back, stroking you softly as he rubs his dick against your wet folds.

The utter disgust of the breath you just took is mitigated by the feeling of relief when he pushes forward inch by inch, sliding into you like you’ve wanted for over eight years now.

“Fuck, y/n,” Steve moans.

“That’s the idea,” you manage to say between moans.

Steve laughs but then he moans and his amusement is seemingly forgotten. He grips your hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise and you moan. Time seems to slow because even as he goes fast and hard you can feel every inch of him as he pulls out and slams back in over and over and over again.

You lay on the counter, reaching across to the other side to grip the edge while he works you until you can’t help but come around him again and again and again. By the time he empties himself into you, you’ve all but forgotten the horrible odor of the dead body on the floor in front of you. All you can think of is how for the first time since you lost your virginity, there’s not a buzz of dissatisfaction under your skin. You’re sated, relaxed, and utterly blissed out.

Steve seems unwilling to part from the afterglow of your unorthodox coitus, instead draping himself over your back and lightly running his hands over your sides. He’s still inside you and it’s a nice full feeling. You’re connected. This gentle aftercare is something you only tried briefly with the partners you had right after your night with the Avengers, but it was never quite the same. Now though it feels right and you let your weight sag onto the tiled countertop.

Too soon Steve’s phone rings.

“Shit,” he mutters. He lifts off of you and pulls out carefully, but even so you can feel his release trickle out of you. It doesn’t make too much difference, your own wetness has already leaked down the insides of your thighs.

While he talks to the person on the other end of the phone, you snag a roll of paper towels from off the counter and clean yourself up as best you can. Any other time it might be weird, but the smell of sex is completely undetectable over the stench of decomp and you’ve never been happier for a dead body.

“Alright, they’re about 5 minutes out. My boss has some paperwork for you that you can take back to your Sergeant so you won’t get in trouble and then you can get out this mess if you want.”

You nod, glad for the paperwork but knowing it won’t do shit to keep him from yelling, but it’s far from the most pressing matter in your mind.

“Thanks. So about what just happened,” you say, because you’re a cop, not the blushing virgin from eight years ago, and you don’t have time to prevaricate.

Steve swallows and nods. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing and I can guarantee that everyone else would be glad to see you again.”

Something loosens in your chest, worry washing away as you realize that you’re still wanted. “Tomorrow’s Friday and I’ve got work, but I get off at five and then I’m free all weekend.”

“Do you drive to work?” Steve asks.

You shake your head. “Nah, I take the subway.”

He perks up and smiles. “Pick you up at five then?”

“Absolutely,” you agree.

You’re not entirely sure where this is going to go, but you’re damn eager to find out.