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we're here to stay

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thekingandthelionheart: can i be super predictable and suggest more soft subby beefy bucky? i'm intrigued by the sub-sharing square. that feels like a prime opportunity for some good good praise kink and maybe a bit of sweet cockslut shaming if that's your bag (because it's very much mine) :D

The world distills to this: this small room, and these soft sheets, the deep voice in his ear and the bite of the strap on his skin. Over and over again. Lighting him up. Burning him down. Each strike like a lit match to his skin; his blood a river of kerosene and his bones a forest fine. He's going to burn to ash right here in this bed. He's going to melt away.

Fuck, he's going to come.

"No, I'm afraid you aren't," Peggy says, dragging her nails across what he knows will be a perfect pattern of hatch marks, the pain of it bright and sharp and tugging him back into his body like an anchor tied to a balloon. She sweeps her hands over his fever-bright skin, pressing and squeezing until the burn ebbs to an ache that grows roots--then grows teeth as she lets the strap fall again, once twice three times against the sensitive skin at the curve of his ass.

"Listen to him," she murmurs, sounding pleased. "Squealing like a little piglet. Are you crying, darling?"

Bucky tries to hide his face, knowing it's red and splotchy and streaked with tears and other, far more unappealing fluids. The metal of his arm is a cool relief against his cheek for a fraction of a second before the hand in his hair drags him back, scraping his cheek against the sheet gone warm and damp with his tears.

"You trying to hide from us, crybaby?" Steve says, laughing at him. "Come on, let me see that pretty face." Steve leans close, running his tongue up Bucky's cheek to taste his tears, scraping his teeth along the sensitive shell of his ear. "You're being so good for us, Buck," he says when Bucky shivers. "Can you take a little more?"

Peggy leans over him then, trailing wet kisses down his spine. He feels enclosed by them, surrounded, with Peggy's soft warmth at his back and Steve's solidity pressed to his side. He nods, thinking he'd take anything they gave him. He wants all of it. Please. Just don't stop touching him. Don't stop hurting him. His voice feels far away, but even if he had it within reach he's not sure he could find the words to tell them what this bright-hot pain does to him. What it means. The way it lights up the world until he can see his own edges, trace his own shape. The way it anchors him to this moment, this body, this life. He's here he's here he's here and nowhere else.

"Come on, baby," Steve says, brushing his lips against Bucky's temple. "You know you have to use your words."

"Just five more and we'll be done, I think," Peggy says, her voice a sharp counterpoint to the low gentleness of Steve's, but no less warm. "Can you do that for me, little piggy?"

"Yes," Bucky says, his voice coming out small and soft, and a shivery sort of shame slides through him. "I can do it."

"I know you can," she says, running a hand through his hair and tugging sharply at the ends. She drags her nails down his back, five lines of fire scoring down his spine, and the leather cracks against his skin again. One cheek and then the other, so quickly he barely has time to suck in enough breath for the strangled yelp that claws its way out of him. He jerks against the sting, but Steve's hands are there to hold him down. Hold him open. Hold him.

"Deep breath, love," Peggy says, and then searing white pain floods through him as she lets the last three strokes fall hard and sharp directly over his exposed hole. It's a cleansing pain like fire, the kind that carves him open and scrapes him clean. Like a pumpkin, his fuzzy brain supplies and he can't help but grin giddily even as the pain throbs steadily under his skin. He barely suppresses a hysterical giggle as he imagines himself hollowed out and glowing like a toothy jack-o-lantern.

Peggy rubs her thumb in firm circles against his stinging hole, not to soothe so much as to prolong the sensation. A buzzing warmth bleeds through him as she leans close, pressing biting kisses to his sweaty neck and making soft sounds of encouragement. "There now, we're done with that bit. You did so well, my darling. I'm so proud."

Bucky's eyes flutter open to see Steve staring at him with a dark, hungry look. He licks his lips and smiles, bringing his hand up to cup Bucky's cheek. "You look so good like this, honey. Can't even tell you. You doing okay? You need anything?"

"Mm-mm," Bucky manages, and lets his eyes close, letting the warm, heavy weight of Steve's hand press him down, letting the crisp roundness of Peggy's voice and the low burr of Steve's surround him, submerge him like a stone in warm water.

He jumps a little when he feels Peggy's soft wet mouth press a kiss to the curve of his ass, just where the hot thrum of pain is the strongest. He tries not to tense when he feels the scrape of teeth and then the electric ache of her sucking a mark over a particularly deep welt, but he knows he squirms and makes embarrassing noises into the bed. He doesn't have to see her face to know she's probably smirking at him, laughing at what a baby he is.

"Oh, does that hurt?" she asks, and Bucky hides a smile in the crook of his elbow. Yep, definitely laughing at him. "Poor baby. Steve, come kiss it better."

Bucky squeaks like a startled hamster when she spreads him open without warning, the cool air hitting his sore, fevered skin and making him wriggle like a pinned bug under her hands. It takes Steve approximately three geological ages to move from his sprawl beside Bucky to behind him. Every second of his glacial migration across the bed is marked by an ever-coiling warmth in Bucky's belly, like a wire twisting itself into a spring until when finally Steve's broad, rough hands replace Peggy's, Bucky wants to scream. His skin feels too thin, his nerves sharp and unprotected just under the surface of him, electric and alive and too much all at once.

"Oh, Buck," Steve says, his voice rough and somehow reverent and if Bucky's mouth were still capable of forming words he'd make some joke about how Steve always did have a thing for beaten up assholes. What a goddamn narcissist, he'd say, but for now he can only pant and tremble and clench around nothing as Steve thumbs him open.

"Look at that hungry little hole," Peggy murmurs. "Always so greedy, aren't you, piggy?" She pinches the back of his knee to let him know she expects an answer.

Humiliation slinks through him like a cat down an alley, curling up warm and content in his belly. "Yes," he says, and feels the blush burn a trail down his spine. Because he is. He's hungry and empty and aching to be filled, and everyone knows it. There's no hiding it, not from them.

"You better put something in him before he starts crying again, Steve," she says. "God knows it's been hours since he's been fed. He'll be in hysterics any minute."

Steve huffs out a laugh and Bucky pictures them smiling indulgently at each other, rolling their eyes fondly at their spoiled little plaything, and he's near to crying from the thought alone. He wants to turn around and see their faces, but he can't. He knows better than to move from where Peggy put him. And that's the point, after all. Every minute of this engineered by the both of them to make him want what he can't have, what they won't give him until he earns it.

And it's not—it's not like before. It's not compliance they're after. It's not even surrender. It's...acceptance. All he has to do is take what he's given. And what they want to give him is everything. They turn themselves inside out for it—to give him what he needs, what he can't ever find a way to ask for. To hurt him until he's hollowed out, to break him down until he is something small enough to be kept safe. Someone soft enough to deserve their gentleness. Someone good enough to be cared for.

He wants to be good. To be enough.

"Please," he says, unable to help himself. Anticipation and nerves coil in his gut, like a diver curling his toes over the edge and looking down.

"Okay, sweetheart," Steve says, the damp warmth of his breath ghosting over Bucky's skin as he crouches down behind him and Bucky tenses up, bracing for what he knows is coming. Steve grasps Bucky's hips in his hands, hitching them higher...and then presses a soft, chaste kiss to Bucky's sore hole. "Better?" he asks, pulling away.

"Steve," Bucky whines.

"What, that wasn't enough for you?" Steve asks, and Bucky doesn't have to see his face to know he's smirking.

"What did I tell you? Greedy," Peggy says, and the bed dips as she crawls across it to kneel by Bucky's head. She cards her red tipped nails through his hair and makes a fist, yanking his head back to look at her. It's a relief to see her face. It feels like it's been hours since she put him on his belly and told him to stay. She smiles at him, all teeth and dark, hungry eyes and he feels suddenly like a very small mouse caught in a hawk's claws.

She settles onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard and spreading her legs on either side of him. He can-he can smell her: warm skin and wet cunt. He wants it, wants to touch, and he must make some kind of noise because she's shushing him and pulling at his shoulders, maneuvering him so he can lay his head on her soft thigh and wrap his arms around her hips. He's careful to keep his left arm loose around her, to keep the metal hand pressed flat to the bed behind her. Just in case.

"There we go, darling," she says, smoothing her warm hands over his shoulders, through his hair. She cups his cheek and runs her thumb over his bottom lip, pressing inside when he lets his lips part. She tastes of leather and salt—of his own sweat—and he sucks softly at it, wanting to pull the taste of her deeper.

"Look at you," she murmurs. "Is that what you needed? One of these pretty holes filled?" He moans around her finger, and she laughs, looking up to meet Steve's eye across his body. "How'd we get such a sweet little slut to play with?"

"Just lucky, I guess. Been begging me for it since he first learned what cocks were for," Steve says, tracing a light finger around Bucky's hole as though to remind him. "Finally gave it to him, hoping it'd shut him up, but…" Steve sighs heavily, laying it on thick. "Well, look at him. Eighty some years later and still just as desperate."

Bucky whimpers around Peggy's finger, feeling like his chest is being slowly filled with helium, his ribs stretching painfully around something warm and weightless.

Peggy hums in agreement, petting Bucky's hair. "He just knows what he's for," she says indulgently, and then wraps a fist around Bucky's hair, pulling him back sharply. The electric thrill of pain that arcs from his scalp to his balls make him gasp and then moan as she grasps his chin, pressing sharp fingers into the soft meat of his cheeks and making his lips purse like a child's. "Don't you, sweet boy?"

He nods dumbly, closing his eyes against the sharp tug on his scalp. "And what are you for?" she asks.

"You," he says, voice garbled by her grip on his face. "I'm for you. Both of you. Please."

"That's right," she says, and her smile is so fond, so pleased it makes his eyes prickle with tears.

"For us and no one else," Steve agrees, pressing kisses to the base of Bucky's spine.

And Bucky thinks he might float off the bed. Maybe he already has, hovering somewhere near the ceiling. If he closes his eyes he can see the picture they make, all three tangled up together. Bucky bowing at the altar of Peggy's spread legs and Steve glowing like an archangel, Saint Michael looming protective and possessive over them both.

"I think we'll put this pretty mouth to good use," Peggy says, her softening grip pulling Bucky back into his body. She traces his lips with her thumb, still damp from his mouth, and he can't help but press a kiss to it. "Both of them, actually." She shoots a smirk at Steve. "You're going to make me come while Steve wets you up. And if you're very, very good, I'll let him fuck you."

Bucky's cock pulses and drools against the sheets, and he can't tell which of those ideas excites him more. Peggy presses his face down into her wet, warm pussy and the sound that escapes him is loud and ragged. He loves this, he loves her. He rolls his eyes up to watch her face as he opens his mouth and lets his tongue lap slow and gentle against her like she taught him. She sighs and drags her nails against his scalp and it's-it's so good. It's the best thing in the entire world. The only thing. Her soft thighs bracketing him, her warm taste in his mouth, her soft smooth skin under his tongue. Her smell everywhere and she's pressing against the back of his skull, urging him to lick harder, to suck and her noises and—

And Steve's mouth is on him now. The first soft touch of his tongue, wet and warm against his sore hole, is a shock. Painful, like his nerves have been yanked out of bed from a deep sleep and thrust into the cold. Except. Not cold. Steve's breath on his abraded ass, his tongue licking in firm circles, his fingers digging into Bucky's hips. And Peggy—Peggy's hand tightening in his hair, reminding him he has a job to do. Peggy warm and wet in front of him and Steve's mouth warm and wet behind him and oh fuck he can't—

Peggy jerks his head back. Cool air hits his wet face, clearing his head enough to meet her eyes. "What are you supposed to be doing right now, James?" she asks.

"I'm sorry-I...making you come," he amends quickly when she cocks her head at his babbling.

"As adorable as it is, moaning like a slut into my cunt isn't going to accomplish that, is it," she says. "You can do better, can't you?"

"Yes, I'll be good. I promise," he chokes out, on the verge of tears. Steve hasn't stopped licking at his hole, pulling at it with his thumbs and pressing his tongue in just enough to tease. He's trying so hard to be good, to stay still and not press himself back against Steve, beg for more. He's good. He's going to be good, he's—

"If you can't concentrate on your job while Steve gets you ready, he'll have to stop," Peggy says with a sigh. "And we don't want that. You don't want to have to go to bed wet and empty, right?"

He squeezes his eyes shut but the tears escape anyway, running hot down his cheeks and mixing with Peggy's wet smeared on his chin. "No. Please."

"Come on then, love. Put that clever tongue to work." She guides his face back between her spread legs. "Show me how good you are."

He doesn't start slow this time, but dives in with all the tricks he knows to get her off. Firm circles with his tongue and gentle suction, around and around, pressing his face in harder, his nose in her soft curls and his face dripping with her and her noises getting louder, her stomach heaving under his hand; she's almost there.

"So good, love," she says, breathlessly, rocking her hips against his mouth and pushing at the back of his head until he's pressed up tight against her, her cunt grinding over his open mouth. "That's it, come on." She tenses up then, her body curling over him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she shakes apart. He feels her pulsing against his tongue, spilling wet over his chin and it's take all his strength to gentle himself, not to lap at it like a hungry, mindless animal.

It's a long moment before she stills and uncoils from around him, her breath still coming in shaky bursts, little shocked noises falling from her as he kisses her through the aftershocks. She hasn't told him to stop. He'll keep going if she wants. Make her come again. Again. For hours. Nothing but this. Drowning in her.

She pushes him back gently, then. Her hands cupping his face, thumbs tracing his slick lips. "My good, sweet boy, thank you," she says with a small sigh. She smiles at him softly, and he feels his own spread across his face in answer.

Bucky jerks back then, gasping when Steve presses a slick finger into him as though to remind him he's still there, they're not done. It's a small stretch, just enough to tease. Just enough to remind him he's still empty, so hard it feels like his lower half is nothing but a heavy, aching pulsebeat. "Please," he moans, the sound loud without Peggy's thighs pressed to his ears. He can't help rocking back on Steve's finger, spreading his legs even wider, begging for more.

"Okay, honey," Steve says, sounding just as wrecked. He slides another finger in, rubbing at him rough and a little mean and it lights him up, electricity running up his spine, coiling like a live wire in his belly. "That's what you want, isn't it? Just want to be filled. I know. I'll give it to you, sweetheart." He spreads his fingers apart and leans down again, thrusting his tongue into the space between and Bucky can only bury his face in Peggy's thigh and try not to scream. It's so good. It's not enough.

"Steve," he whines, panting and drooling onto Peggy's leg. "Please. I need—can you—"

Steve cracks his hand against Bucky's cheek, follows it with his teeth, dragging lines of white fire through the red glow. "You got an ass full of fingers and Peggy's come all over you face and it's still not enough? You think you deserve more?"

"I'm good, I was good. Peggy said," he sobs, knowing how desperate he sounds—a greedy little pig, just like they said. "Peggy said I could have it. I was good. Please, Steve. I'm good, I'm—"

He sobs when Steve's fingers slip out of him, feeling all the warmth in his slip away with it, left cold and empty. His ears start to ring and his body shake and he doesn't know what he did wrong. He wasn't good enough and he doesn't know why. Maybe they'll leave him now, get up and walk away and leave him shivering in the bed. A dumb, desperate thing who's never satisfied.

"Hush now, darling," Peggy says, pressing kisses to his face. "We've got you. We're still here. No one is going anywhere." He doesn't know how he got here, laying on his side cradled against Peggy, her leg thrown over his hip and her hands holding him close, but he feels the grip of panic begin to ease.

"You're so good, Buck," Steve says, pressing against his back, warm and hard and—oh. "Gonna give you what you need, okay? Always, honey. You know that."

He slides into Bucky in one slick, thick plunge. It's a long, burning stretch and then the heavy weight of Steve settling inside him, and Peggy's soft hands on his cock, notching him into the wet slit of her. And they're moving together, the three of them rocking in one sinuous rhythm. Four hands gliding over his skin, holding him close. Careful but never gentle, making him feel each point of contact. Bruises, however fleeting, to remind him who he belongs to now.

"You gonna come for us, baby?" Steve murmurs, sucking kisses into his neck. "Gonna come all over Peg?" He drives into Bucky a little harder, angling himself just right so Bucky makes high-pitched, punched out noises into Peggy's mouth.

He feels weightless, held between the two of them. Something small and soft caught between an immovable object and an unstoppable force. Untouchable. Safe.

"You come whenever you're ready, sweet boy," Peggy says, knowing whatever Steve says, it's her permission he needs. "We'll make Steve clean it up. He'll like that, won't he? Tasting the both of us." She pulls away just enough to see both their faces, laughing at their twin moans.

Bucky feels Steve twitch and swell in him, and then they're both coming, clutching onto Peggy and jerking helplessly against each other. They lay still for a few moments, stroking sweat-slick skin, boneless and breathless and content to stay a messy pile of limbs.

He must doze off for a few minutes, because when awareness reaches him again, it's to the sight of Steve laying between Peggy's spread legs, dutifully lapping at their combined mess. He's pink from ears to ass, moaning every few seconds as Peggy pets lazily at his sweaty hair. She smiles at Bucky when he lifts his head from her shoulder, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss. "Okay?" she asks when she pulls back, searching his face.

He nods, feeling quiet and content, and lays his head back down on her chest, listening to the way her heart speeds and stutters as Steve gets her close again. He brings his left hand up to toy with her nipple, smiling when she gasps and shudders beneath him, letting out little ah ah noises as she comes. Steve lumbers up the bed, breathing heavy and flopping down to lay on Peggy's other side. He's a mess, sweaty and still a little wild-eyed, and Bucky can't help but lean over and kiss him, lick the taste of them both out of his mouth. Steve clutches at the back of Bucky's head, holding him close, kissing him deep and desperate. He whines when Bucky pulls away, and Peggy laughs.

"Speaking of greedy. Steven, I know full well you've come twice already," she says.

"I can't help it," he grumbles, rutting a little into the bed. "It's the serum."

She rolls her eyes. "James and I are going to have a bath. If you can pull yourself together, we'll let you wash our hair."

"If you're a good boy," Bucky says, levering himself off the bed and holding out a hand to Peggy. "I'll even let you put it in me again later."

"Oh, let me," Steve says, flopping over onto his back with a huff and palming his cock. "Who was the one literally crying for this dick not even an hour ago?"

"Boys, don't argue," Peggy says over her shoulder on the way to bathroom. "In this house we take turns. Steve, you can cry on my dick later, don't fret."

Steve and Bucky stare at each other with wide eyes, identical grins spreading over their faces. "We are so fucking lucky," Steve says, shutting his eyes and fisting his dick with the air of a man who knows he soon won't be allowed to touch it.

"Come on, little piglet," Peggy says, poking her head out of the bathroom. "Time to get clean."

"Yes, Peggy," Bucky says, wondering what it says about him that he can get it up again so soon with just the right bit of shame. But Peggy kisses his mouth and pinches his sore ass on the way to the tub, and he finds he doesn't care.