Work Header

I Spy With My Little Eye

Work Text:

Natasha is bored. It’s Saturday night and everyone is asleep and she’s so unbelievably bored. It’s been weeks since the last time she’s had to suit up, and for someone whose life has been one constant mission since her childhood, there is no such thing as ‘enjoying’ time off. She never learned how. Sure, the Tower is equipped with every imaginably luxury that should, for a normal person, provide plenty of distractions from boredom. But Nat is not a normal person, nor does she particularly care about the home cinema, the arcade room or the tennis court. None of those will help her become better, faster, stronger, and so she doesn’t really see the point in indulging.

However, the lack of action over the past few weeks did naturally result in a lot of excess energy, and there are really only two ways Natasha knows how to get rid of the surplus.

Exercise, or sex.

Seeing as Clint got back from a minor but exhausting intelligence gathering mission just a few hours ago and is currently dead to the world, option two is out. Natasha tried to lie down next to him and get some sleep too, but her body wouldn’t shut off and so around 3am, she got up to train instead.

So, down to the gym she goes, opting for the one in the basement that’s bigger than the private one upstairs and has an obstacle course that she quite enjoys, but that no one besides her and Clint ever seems to use, for some reason.

That’s why, the second the doors to the gym soundlessly glide open, she’s surprised to be met with the sound of voices. She quickly registers that there’s two of them, both male, and going by the grunting and shouting, those males are engaged in some pretty intense sparring. Then one of them curses, an emphatic ‘Fuck’ ringing out through the open space, and with some surprise Natasha recognizes the voice.


In all the time she’s known him, Natasha has never once heard Steve use anything stronger than an appreciative ‘sonuvabitch,’ so this alone is cause to raise a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Curiosity piqued, Natasha rounds the corner to the main part of the gym –

– and stops dead in her tracks.

The mildly sarcastic greeting she had planned dies on her lips as she takes in the scene in front of her.

Steve’s got his back to her, ridiculous muscles straining against the seams of his smedium white tee, his lower half clad in some grey sweatpants. The outfit in itself doesn’t constitute anything out of the ordinary in the context of a gym, but the fact that those sweats are pulled down far enough to expose his bare – and might she add glorious – ass is pretty unusual. Even more unusual is the way Steve is currently holding a stark naked James Buchanan Barnes up against the wall, whose black sweatpants and shirt are lying discarded on the floor at their feet. Steve’s fingers are digging into Barnes’ powerful thighs which are wrapped around his waist in an iron grip, and Barnes’ and his hands, flesh and metal alike, are clutching at Steve’s shoulders so hard the already straining fabric looks in imminent danger of ripping.

What the…

For a moment, Nat wonders if she might be reading the scene all wrong – people have on occasion told her she has a bit of a one-track mind, after all – and there is actually a fairly innocent explanation for all of this. But then Steve's hips snap forward, and again, the muscles in his ass tensing with each powerful thrust, and she really has no choice but to accept that Barnes is actually getting railed into next week by Steve up against the gym wall.

Natasha’s seen a lot of wild things in her life, like, really wild things, and as you’d expect from a trained spy who goes by the awe-inducing code name of Black Widow, she’s not easily shocked. But walking in on Captain America, national icon and paragon of virtue, topping the fuck out of his best friend and formerly feared Hydra assassin the Winter Soldier, is enough to freeze even the Widow to the spot. Which is unfortunate, because what she should be doing is turning on her heel and getting the fuck of there.

But Nat can’t move, can’t even take her eyes off the writhing mass of solid muscle a few feet away that she never expected to see, but which makes for a hell of a sight regardless. Due to the position they’re in, Natasha can see Barnes’ face over Steve’s shoulder; the way his admittedly handsome features are screwed up in pleasure, his lips slightly parted, and his eyes… open.

His eyes are open, and he’s looking straight at her.

Well, fuck.

Barnes blinks once, and that’s all the outward evidence he shows of being surprised at her presence before a devilish glint appears in his ocean grey eyes and his lips curve upwards into a sly smirk. And then, the bastard winks at her. Fucking winks at her.

It’s that wink that makes Natasha finally snap out of her stupor, a flare of something searing through her – embarrassment, adrenaline, arousal, or a combination of all three – and she hesitates. Natasha never hesitates, but now, as a particularly powerful thrust of Steve’s hips has Barnes cursing out something unintelligible that sounds suspiciously like Russian and his eyes rolling back into his head, she has to force herself to make a decision: turn around and leave as stealthily as possible, or stay and hide – also as stealthily as possible.

Unsurprisingly, in light of her current dry spell, notorious adrenaline junkie Natasha Romanoff decides fuck it, and seizes her chance. She soundlessly throws herself to the side, a cartwheel followed by a backflip that lands her on top of a vaulting buck, and from there launching herself up on the platform that Clint sometimes uses for his sniper exercises. Dropping flat on her stomach without making a sound, she shuffles forward just enough to be able to peer over the edge of the platform at the two men a few feet below her.

And, lo and behold, Barnes is still looking up at her, grinning lewdly as he bites down on his lower lip and lets out an exaggerated groan.

“Ohhh, oh, that feels so good, baby,” he moans. “Right there, fuck yes.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. Of course Barnes would be an exhibitionist. From what she's learned by studying his files (and following his trial, which cleared him of all charges imaginable thanks to Tony's team of super lawyers) he’d been a bit of a player before the war. Hitting the town every weekend with a different girl on his arm, even if it had been just for appearance’s sake, while poor Steve had usually been stuck at home, small and sickly and pining after his dashing best friend. That kind of love wasn’t accepted back then, of course, and Nat can only imagine what it must’ve been like to be frail and queer in the thirties. Out of the two of them, handsome and charming Bucky Barnes had definitely been dealt the better hand. Though she supposes that the subsequent seventy years of torture and brainwashing Barnes had to endure had probably balanced things out a bit. Mostly.

Natasha’s own history with the Winter Soldier had become a little muddled in her mind, courtesy of her own share of endured brainwashing. But the fact that he’d shot her through the stomach that one time had, for some reason, stuck with her. Funny how that worked. She wasn’t proud of it, but she couldn’t deny that fact played a part in why she’d been a bit slow to warm up to him, even though they had more in common than either of them would have liked.

Seeing how much Steve cared for Barnes had helped, though. Nat was surprisingly fond of Steve. A singular sort of alliance had been forged between them when they’d first fought aliens together, strengthening over time into a true, lasting friendship. During those early days, it had been clear that Steve was depressed; even Natasha with her somewhat underdeveloped sense of empathy could see that. He had such a good heart and would always help when called upon, but sometimes she got the impression he would’ve preferred to have stayed in the ice. Life didn’t seem to hold much joy for him anymore.

But then, in a spectacular and wildly dramatic turn of events, the Winter Soldier had showed up and moreover turned out to be Steve’s long-lost best friend, back from the dead. From that moment on, Steve’s only preoccupation for over a year had been Barnes’ location and well-being. He’d been completely absorbed by the situation, suddenly living his life with a single-minded focus that bordered on obsession. It had been tough seeing him like that, sad and worried and frustrated, but it was still miles better than the unnatural blankness that Natasha had so often seen in his eyes in the months before.

And then, when Steve finally really had Barnes back, after they’d dealt with the last of his programming and the memories slowly resurfaced, it had eventually become clear that the two of them were a little more than just best friends. Everybody had been shocked for about ten minutes, until the rightness of the situation had registered and everyone (except for Tony, of course) had left them to enjoy their reunion in peace.

From that moment onwards, the difference in Steve’s demeanor and state of being more generally had been astounding. He suddenly laughed all the time, loud and boisterous, positively glowing whenever Barnes was around. It was kind of gross (and incredibly sweet, but if she told anyone she thought that, she’d have to kill them). Apart from that, though, Natasha and the rest of the Avengers hadn’t been able to see much of a change at all in the way Steve and Barnes interacted since reigniting their romantic relationship. Aside from how they’d always stare at each other with stars in their eyes, there was no PDA to speak of, neither of them ever showing any outward inclination to be more intimate with each other. Sure, they were never far apart and they'd sit close together on movie nights, but there were no secret smooches or wandering hands (take note, Tony).

The only reason any of them even knew for sure that they were together was because Natasha had been relentlessly trying to set Steve up on dates, until one morning, while the Avengers were having their communal Sunday breakfast, Steve had finally snapped and told her in no uncertain terms that he appreciated her trying to look out for him, but that he was actually already very much taken. It was at this point that he’d put his hand over Barnes’ metal one where it was lying on the table, and every pair of eyes had zoomed in on their joined hands as the meaning of Steve’s words had slowly sunk in.

What Steve didn’t know, however, was that Natasha’s insistence on setting him up on a blind date with the heavily tattooed receptionist on the thirty-first floor that obviously wasn’t his type had been a strategic move. She wasn’t a super spy for nothing, and from observing the way Steve acted around his best friend she had wondered if maybe, just maybe, Steve held a bit of a torch for him. But even after Steve cracked and her suspicions were confirmed, and learning that the torch-holding was in fact mutual and longstanding, Natasha had (foolishly) assumed that Steve and Barnes weren’t actually intimate.

After all, Steve dressed like a literal grandpa and told people off for cursing, and Barnes just seemed like a miserable bastard full stop. So, it had just seemed to make sense that these two traumatized nonagenarians enjoyed a more old-fashioned kind of courtship: no sex before marriage, and because of the gay thing and internalized old-fashioned views most likely no marriage, and therefore no sex.

Boy, had she been mistaken. Right now, not twenty feet away from her, Steve and Barnes are definitely having sex. Extremely passionate, athletic, not remotely grandpa-like sex. And now that she’s made her choice to stay and watch, Natasha’s not going to miss another minute of it, thanks very much. She tears her thoughts back to the present and finds Barnes still looking up at her with a dirty grin playing on his lips as he continues to get banged by his supersoldier boyfriend who is – blessedly – none the wiser about her presence.

Barnes is forced to look away from her eventually when Steve starts mouthing at his neck, trailing a path of hot kisses from shoulder up to his ear as his metal hand tangles in Steve’s blond hair. He grips it tightly, angling his head to give him better access, and this isn’t the first time Nat’s seen the scarring around his shoulder, but it is the first time she’s seen it in the flesh, so to speak. Although she’s seen far more gruesome wounds in her life, knowing what Barnes had to endure over the past six or so decades makes his injuries particularly difficult to look at.

Steve doesn’t seem to have the same compunctions, however, pointedly treating the scarred skin in exactly the same way as every other part of Barnes body – which, frankly, is a very Steve thing to do. The guy is nothing if not obstinate as fuck.

As Steve continues to suck on his neck, Barnes is making a lot very enthusiastic, highly indecent noises to spur Steve on.

“Yeah, mark me up, Stevie, c’mon,” he urges breathlessly. His pleas transition into a moan as Steve latches on to the soft skin and doesn’t let go until he’s left a bright red hickey right below Barnes’ ear. He pulls back a little to assess the damage, then flattens his tongue over it and gives it a good lick, as if to seal the deal.

“Mine,” he says, the word a low rumble deep in his throat, and, ok, it may be a little caveman, this display of possessiveness, but at the same time it’s strangely touching.

Steve claiming his Bucky. The Winter Soldier may have been property of Hydra, but Bucky Barnes is Steve’s and Steve’s only.

Barnes whimpers softly – not a sound Nat ever expected to hear him make, but then again, that goes for most of the sounds she’s heard him made so far tonight – and Steve leans in to kiss him, deep and open-mouthed. Barnes’ hand grips the back of Steve’s head even tighter, staying as close as he possibly can as he licks into Steve’s mouth like some oversized goddamn kitten.

Although Steve keeps up a pretty steady rhythm while the two of two of them take time to get better acquainted with each other’s tonsils, it’s apparently still to sedate for Barnes’ taste, because he pushes himself back against the wall for leverage and does a full body roll against Steve, trying to fuck himself down harder onto his cock. It’s kind of impressive, how Steve doesn’t even budge under the extra pressure, doesn’t look like it costs him much effort at all to hold Barnes up and do most of the dirty work to boot. Natasha had never considered before how his physical traits might come in handy in the bedroom, but it looks like supersoldier also more or less equates to sex god.

She watches, fascinated, as Barnes presses their foreheads together, looking intently into Steve’s eyes. “C’mon, Rogers,” he pants against his lips. “That all you got, huh? I’m sure you could do better if you put your back into it.”

Steve, who’s never backed down from a challenge in his life, predictably growls a “Oh, I’ll show you better,” and shifts his hold on Barnes’ thighs, tilting his hips back for a more effective angle before slamming back in with conviction. Barnes’ shout trails off into a long, hitching moan once Steve starts really going to town, driving his cock into him again and again, nailing him to the wall, and damn, Nat hopes Barnes knew what he was asking for, because that looks like it might hurt tomorrow.

To her surprise however, Barnes just gasps “Harder, come on, yeah,” wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and pressing himself closely against his torso so that he doesn’t slam into the wall every time Steve thrusts into him. Barnes’ cock must be trapped between their bodies, and Natasha spares a moment too imagine it rubbing up against Steve’s rock-hard abs, making a mess of them. So she’s always had a vivid imagination. Sue her.

“Oh fuck, Stevie,” Barnes whines suddenly, “Baby, I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, oh my god.”

“Already?” Steve asks breathlessly, his eyes fixed on Barnes’ face as if he’s loathe to miss a single moment of the pleasure he’s inflicting on him. “That all you needed, sweetheart? One good pounding and you’re done?”

No.” Barnes frantically shakes his head. “No, more, please, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t uuhh –” The guy’s so far gone by this point, he clearly doesn’t care one iota about dignity anymore.

“I won’t, Buck,” Steve promises fervently, burying his face in the crook of his neck and growling the words into his skin. “Don’t you worry, I’m not stoppin’. I’m gonna have to carry you back when I’m done with you.”

Up on her platform, Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. That’s a big promise, considering who Steve is talking to. She wonders if it’s just big talk, said in the heat of the moment, or if Steve is speaking from experience. Whatever it is, it seems to be exactly what Barnes needed to hear, because he throws his head back and comes instantly, an expression of utter ecstasy on his face as Steve fucks him through his climax.

It takes a good while, but when Barnes finally opens his eyes again, panting heavily and looking completely blissed-out, Steve is still fucking into him, not letting up for a second.

Natasha winces. That can’t be pleasant, though Barnes doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s still moaning and clutching at Steve’s back, spurring him on, even.

“Yeah, big guy,” he purrs into Steve’s ear, running his teeth along the shell. “That’s it. You gonna make a mess outta me, huh? Gonna fill me up, make me yours?”  

Mine,” Steve growls again, punctuating the word with a final, deep thrust that seems to shake the walls around them, and then he’s coming too, spilling deep inside of Barnes with a guttural groan. It goes on forever, and Barnes keeps talking to him while Steve shudders against him, running his fingers soothingly through his blond locks, babbling nonsense. “Yeah Stevie, yours, I’m yours… So perfect, can feel you inside of me… So good, fuck.”

Eventually, Steve comes to again, lifting his head off Barnes’ chest and immediately pressing a sloppy kiss to his mouth. Natasha expects them to at least need a moment to recover from that A+ performance, but to her amazement, the kiss grows heated again within just a few seconds.

Huh. That serum must have had some interesting side effects too, then.

Steve pulls out just as Barnes untangles his legs from around his waist, in sync even in that. As soon as his feet hit feet hit the floor, Steve spins him around and pushes him face forward against the wall with a hand on the back of his neck. It’s a little rough, but Barnes’ salacious expression seems to indicate he quite enjoys being shoved around. When Steve’s next move is to fall down to his knees behind Barnes and spread his ass cheeks apart, watching his come slowly leak out of him, Natasha’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. Holy shit, Steve, that is filthy. Nat loves it.

Judging by the obscene groan he lets out, Steve does, too. “Look at you,” he breathes. “Filled you up good, didn’t I?” He traces a finger over Barnes’ taint, catching some of the mess before it drips down onto his taut balls. “How’s it feel, sweetheart?”

Barnes makes a strangled sound and pushes back into Steve's hands. “Feels good, Steve,” he confesses breathlessly. “Love having you inside me.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, rolling Barnes’ balls in the palm of his hand now, thumb rubbing teasingly over his perineum. “Well, then, maybe tomorrow morning I oughta come inside that tight little ass of yours again and plug you up right after, keep it in you all day, hm? How’s that?” 

Fuck, yes,” Barnes groans, dropping his forehead against the wall with a muted thunk. “Please, Steve, I want it –”

“Shhh, you got it,” Steve says soothingly, stroking a big hand up Barnes’ lower back and down again over the swell of his ass. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

He stands up, sidling up close behind him and resting his big hands on Barnes’ hips. Leaning in, he murmurs into his ear, “Although I have a feeling you can’t wait that long to be fucked again.”

The desperate little please and the way Barnes curves his spine to fit against Steve’s front is all the answer he needs.

“You’re so damn pretty when you beg for it, Buck,” Steve groans into his neck. “You can’t ever get enough, can you? If you could, you’d keep my cock inside you all the time. Keep it nice and warm for me, hm?”

Barnes loudly moans his assent, lifting his right arm and reaching back over his shoulder to grab Steve’s hair as he grinds back against him. The way he’s circling his hips makes Steve’s breath stutter, and almost despite himself, he pushes closer to slip his dick (which is somehow hard again, or still hard, Nat doesn’t even know anymore) between Barnes’ cheeks. Slowly, he starts to slide his length up and down his crack, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he looks down to watch the flushed, wet tip peek out on every upstroke.

Steve,” Barnes says pleadingly, pushing back against him with clear intent now. “C’mon…”

But instead of pushing back into him like Barnes so clearly wants, Steve suddenly pulls back and spins him around in a move that’s honed by many a round on the battlefield. The breath leaves Barnes’ lungs in a rush as he’s slammed back into the wall and Steve grabs both of his wrists, pinning them above his head.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” Steve chides, though the way he rolls his hips against him seems to betray his true desires.

Barnes somehow manages to moan and scowl at the same time, treating Steve to his patented death glare, but Steve doesn’t seem too bothered. He just grins, ducking his head to land a quick, playful peck on Barnes’ nose and then releases his wrists. He turns his back on Barnes, rolling his shoulders and sauntering over to the climbing wall.

When he leans back against it, clothing askew and indecently exposed, Natasha gets her first unimpeded look at his supersoldier dick, and dear lord – guess that means everything about him grew when he got the serum. She suddenly sees why Barnes was moaning so loudly. The thing is huge.

With one foot propped up against the wall, Steve looks so much like a pinup, disheveled and debauched like something straight out of a blue movie, that Natasha feels her perception of him shift by a few more degrees. Who’d have thought that big hunk of solid muscle and righteousness could be so seductive?

“What is it, Buck?” Steve asks, giving Barnes a sly look. He wraps his artist's fingers around his length and gives it a couple of long, slow pulls. “Is there something you want?”

Barnes, who seems to have forgotten all about his earlier indignation the moment Steve started touching himself, suddenly bears a striking resemblance to a starved wolf. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely, involuntarily swaying forward a little as his eyes fix hungrily on Steve’s cock. “God, yes.”

“Well,” Steve smirks, setting his foot back on the ground. “You’d better come and get it, then.”

That’s all the permission Barnes needs before he’s striding over, dropping to his knees in front of Steve and swallowing him down without a moment’s hesitation.

Steve throws his head back with a throaty moan, his left hand finding Barnes’ head and fisting his long, chestnut tresses – honestly, the dude’s got better hair than Natasha does, so not fair. Tugging on it none too gently, Steve directs Barnes’ movements, pushing him down purposefully on his shaft before pulling him back off again, and man, does Barnes love being manhandled. He moans around the huge cock in his mouth like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, his hands on Steve’s sweats-clad thighs for balance while he lets Steve push him around.

As she's watching, however, Natasha suddenly realizes that, although it looks like Steve is in control, it’s actually Barnes who has the real power here. It may seem as if he’s letting Steve use him as his own personal sex doll, but in reality, he knows exactly what he’s doing. When Steve pulls out almost all the way, Barnes’ slick lips dragging around his shaft, the latter uses the opportunity to wrap his right hand around the it and swirl his tongue around the head like a teenage girl with a lollipop. Steve’s eyes roll back into his head, and when Barnes tongues the slit before giving it a hard suck, his knees nearly give out.

“Aahh- ahh fuck!” Steve curses.

He’s breathing hard, holding Barnes' hair back from his face so he can watch exactly what he's doing, and Nat can’t blame Steve for wanting the visual, too. Barnes looks like sin personified in this position; naked as the day he was born (with the small addition of a metal arm), on his knees with his lips wrapped around Steve’s cock, glancing up at him enticingly through his eyelashes.

He holds Steve’s gaze as he opens his mouth wider, pulling Steve forward with his hands on the back of his thighs and wordlessly giving him permission to move. Steve draws in shaky breath, trying to get a grip on himself, before he starts to push forward, sliding in deeper and deeper at a torturously slow pace, until Barnes’ nose is almost touching the light curls at the base of his cock. And that’s saying something.

When the head bumps against the back of Barnes’s throat, Steve lets out a broken sound, his hips stuttering forward of their own volition. The sudden move makes Barnes gag, yet he makes no move to pull away, continuing to breathe in steadily through his nose. Nat has the fleeting thought that this might be where the Winter Soldier’s complete control over his reflexes comes in handy. Better a questionable perk than no perks at all, she figures.

His dick still buried all the way down Barnes’ throat, Steve gently touches the fingers of his free hand to his lover’s face, caressing his slick lips. “The fucking mouth on you, Buck,” he breathes, something akin to reverence in his voice. “Made to suck cock, weren’t you, sweetheart? Look at you, so fuckin’ pretty with your lips stretched around my dick…”

His natural baritone seems to have dropped another octave as he talks dirty to Barnes, and wow, hello, that’s one hell of a bedroom voice Steve’s got there. Natasha’s a little surprised to notice how warmth is pooling rapidly in her groin. It seems the deep, dark timbre of Steve’s voice doesn’t leave her unaffected either, nor does the fact that he apparently swears like a sailor. Hearing him talk into her ear over the comms is never going to be quite the same again.

Barnes, it seems, has a bit of a thing for praise, because Steve’s adoring words leave him whimpering, squirming on the spot as he surreptitiously drops one of his hands down to his own erection to alleviate some of the pressure. Unfortunately for him, he only gets in about a handful of desperate tugs before Steve notices and pulls out completely, roughly yanking Barnes up by his hair into a standing position.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, giving him one of his tried and tested ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ looks. “I don’t think so. I didn’t say you could touch yourself, now did I?” 

Barnes guiltily lowers his eyes, shaking his head, or as much as he can with Steve’s hand keeping him in place, and Steve nods. “That’s what I thought.” He lets go of Barnes’ hair, letting his hand trail its way from Barnes’ neck down his torso, all the way down until he reaches his cock. “’Cause that’s my job.”

Barnes’ mouth falls open into a silent gasp when Steve takes him in hand and gives his painfully hard erection a few tight, fast pulls. His forehead drops onto Steve’s shoulder, and he lets out a truly pitiful sound when Steve lets go of him again all too soon, shoulders slumping in such a defeated way that Natasha would almost feel sorry for him. Unfortunately for him, his plight gets resolutely ignored by Steve, who turns around and calmly walks over to one of the vaulting bucks standing a few feet away.

“Why don’t you hop on here, sweetheart?” he asks, looking back at Barnes while patting the rough leather.

Barnes eagerly springs into action, striding up to the device and jumping on with ease. Steve taps the inside of Barnes’ thighs to urge him to part his legs, their hips conveniently lining up as he moves to stand between them, and Barnes immediately hooks his ankles around Steve’s thighs to pull him closer. He wastes no time in slipping hands under Steve’s shirt, sliding them over his abs up to his chest, kneading Steve's pecs under the thin fabric.

“I think you should take your clothes off, Stevie.” He leans closer to murmur, “Shame to hide those gorgeous tits, wouldn’t ya say?”

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, but still hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and pulls them down further until he can shuck them off. Next, he lifts his hands so that Barnes can pull the shirt off over his head and drop it carelessly to the floor beside them, and good god, Natasha knows she shouldn’t be ogling a friend like this – though honestly, she probably crossed that line a while ago – but she’s only human.

Steve in all his naked glory is pretty as a picture, or a statue carved from the purest marble by Praxiteles himself, if you’re feeling poetic. Barnes’ eyes flit restlessly over Steve’s body, trying to take him in all at once, though he must’ve seen him naked plenty of times before. He huffs out an almost disbelieving breath, rubbing his palms over Steve’s smooth, bare pecs, shamelessly feeling him up. Natasha can’t blame him; she’d dare anyone to keep their hands to themselves when confronted with all that. When he flicks at a nipple with his thumb, Steve hisses, his hands flying up to Barnes’ waist and gripping it tightly.

“You always did like it when I played with your tits,” Barnes purrs, looking mighty pleased. His teasing elicits an embarrassed groan from Steve, who shoots him a look that is part fond, part exasperated, though when opens his mouth to protest, Barnes beats him to the punch.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says in a placating tone. “They ain’t tits, you ain’t a dame. Whatever you say, Stevie.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he ducks his head and closes his lips around Steve’s right nipple, sucking on it hard. Steve does a full-body shiver, eyes fluttering closed before flying open again when Barnes tugs at the little nub with his teeth.

“Fucking fff…!” He’d have doubled over if it wasn’t for the steadying presence of Barnes’ metal hand on his shoulder.

Letting Steve’s nipple pop free again, Barnes grins up at him impishly. “You know, Stevie,” he gloats, “you might not be a dame, but your tits sure are sensitive. More than any dame’s I’ve ever met.” Cupping Steve’s pecs in his palms, he pushes them together to create an impressive cleavage, then muses, “Prettier, too,” before promptly burying his face in it.

Steve’s expression in that moment is one he probably never meant for anyone, not even Barnes, to see. He’s blushing furiously and biting his lips so hard he must be close to drawing blood. It seems he is wavering somewhere between arousal and embarrassment, and Natasha, no stranger to a bit of kink, knows all too well how overwhelming that can be. It’s a great look on Golden Boy, in any case.

Interestingly, it seems that Barnes, despite having the air of a submissive, is back in the driver’s seat now. It’s fascinating to see how quickly and naturally the two of them switch roles.

“Bucky…” Steve pleads softly, his fingers twitch on Barnes’ ribs, though he doesn’t seem inclined to stop him, just as Barnes clearly has no intention of rushing this particular bit of the evening. He takes his sweet time riling Steve up, slowly nips and licks his way across Steve’s chest, worshipping every inch of it but paying particular attention to his already abused nipples. Steve’s making delicious little whimpering sounds, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at Barnes’s flanks, until finally, Barnes drags his tongue all the way up from the center of Steve’s chest to the hollow of his neck.

He hums appreciatively, cocking his head and looking straight into Steve’s eyes. “Still the best thing I’ve ever tasted, babydoll," he says, slowly licking his lips.

Steve is staring down at Barnes’ mouth in somewhat of a daze, eyes glazed over and breathing shallowly, his cock rock-hard and leaking against Barnes’ naked thigh. Only when Barnes tilts his face up to silently ask for a kiss does Steve blink and snap out of it, huffing out a breath and leaning down to press their lips together.

True to form, it doesn’t take long before the kiss is deepening again. Barnes presses closer, and suddenly Steve is on him, kissing him like he’s trying to swallow him whole. He pushes his tongue into Barnes mouth with no subtlety whatsoever, sliding his hands down to Barnes’ backside and roughly pulling him closer. They neck like two horny teenagers for the better part of a minute, rutting up against each other and feeling each other up like they’re trying to touch every single body part at the same time. No age-induced lack of libido here, no siree.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten my promise,” Steve pants in between kisses, seemingly having recovered enough by this point to sass again. “You can try and distract me with that damn mouth of yours all you want, but in the end I’m still gonna fuck you raw, whether you like it or not.” He pulls back for a moment to flash Barnes a cheeky, if a little flushed, grin, and adds, “I think you will, though.”

“Less conversation, more action, please,” Barnes drawls, to which Steve rolls his eyes and quips, “Aye aye, captain.”

Barnes snorts. “Don’t ‘captain’ me, Captain.”

As soon as the words have left his mouth, Steve suddenly goes almost unnaturally still.

Natasha tenses, unsure what’s going on for a moment, but then Barnes lets out a soft gasp and crows, “Oohh, you like that, don’t you? Captain.” He looks absolutely delighted, and Natasha, who barely manages to suppress a disbelieving snort, can’t blame him – this stuff is gold.

Poor Steve, meanwhile, is clenching his jaw so hard Nat can hear it pop from all the way up there. He holds himself tensely, hands balled into fists at his side while a flush spreads further and further down to his chest, helpless embarrassment radiating off him in waves.

Barnes shakes his head. “Shoulda guessed,” he murmurs fondly, sliding his palms up Steve’s broad chest and looking up at him coyly through his lashes. “Well, then, Captain. How do you feel about showing a rookie like me the ropes, huh?”

Steve actually growls as he surges forward, grabbing Barnes by the hips. He somehow manages to flip him over in one smooth move and push him down over the device with a hand on the back of his neck. Barnes yelps – either genuinely caught off guard, or just playing at it for Steve’s benefit, it doesn’t really matter – and once he’s got his feet back under him, he immediately widens his stance, tilting his pelvis and shamelessly presenting himself. He has an appreciative audience in Steve, whose hands gravitate instantly to his ass cheeks, kneading the firm, round flesh. He thumbs them apart to expose his puckered, pink hole and rubs the pad of his thumb over it. The tip slips inside easily, and Steve lets out a low groan, his brow furrowing into an almost pained expression.

“Jesus, Buck,” he breathes, pushing his finger in deeper. “This pretty little hole’s just dyin’ to be filled up, ain't it?”

“Fuck, yes,” Barnes hisses, shamelessly wriggling his ass. “I want your cock in me, Captain. Now.”

Natasha is reluctantly impressed with Barnes’ brazenness – power bottom, much? – but Steve really goes wild for it, wasting no time in pulling out his thumb so he can line up his cock and shove the whole thing up Barnes’s ass in one, swift stroke. Barnes’ positively wails, so goddamn hungry for it it’s almost tangible.

That makes two of them, then. “Oh god,” Steve grits out. “You’re still so wet, Buck, Jesus.”

Barnes’ answering moan turns into a startled shout as Steve pulls back and then slams forward again, not giving him time to recover as he quickly sets a punishing pace. Natasha feels a hot flush spread all the way from her cheeks to the pit of her stomach, noticing that she’s started to sweat purely from getting all hot and bothered watching these two go at it like rabbits. She suddenly hopes the supersoldier benefit package doesn’t come with super sense of smell, too, 'cause then she's fucked. And not in the way Barnes currently is, either.

Steve fucks him hard and deep, plunging in again and again while Barnes can do nothing but grab hold of the sides of the vaulting buck and try to hold on for dear life. The whirring of his arm and the sound of the wood creaking ominously under his grip is soon drowned out by a constant stream of filthy encouragement that seems to fall from Barnes’ lips with no filter whatsoever.

“Yes, yes, fuck, Steve. Right there, right there – ahh fuck, fuck me harder, Captain. C’mon, I can take it, fuck you’re so strong, make me feel it…”

From anyone else, stuff like that would sound ridiculous, but coming from Barnes’ mouth, in that slightly hoarse, fucked-out voice, Natasha finds that it’s actually just ridiculously hot. Heat is pooling fast and strong between her legs now, and it’s taking all her willpower not to give in to the powerful urge to slip a hand down her training pants. It’d be so easy… But she can’t. It would be wrong, right? So she clenches her core instead, pushing her thighs together harder in a futile attempt at abating the throbbing sensations.

Steve’s hands are digging into Barnes’ hips so hard now he must be leaving bruises, yanking him back against him every time he slams forward. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoes obscenely through the open space, mingling with Steve’s grunts and Barnes’ enthusiastic moans. From her position up high, Natasha has the perfect view of Steve’s thick cock sliding into Barnes time and time again, the way it’s stretching him open, his hole hungrily drawing Steve in like it was made for this sole purpose. It’s mesmerizing to watch, their bodies fitting together perfectly like a particularly pleasurable, if slightly obscene, puzzle.

Steve does slow down after a while – not because he’s tired, he’s barely broken a sweat, but to drape himself over Barnes’ back and slowly circle his hips, grinding his pelvis against Barnes’ ass while still buried balls-deep inside him. If the broken moans and breathless whines that Barnes can’t seem to hold back are anything to go by, Steve’s cock must be rubbing right up against his prostate.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Steve murmurs, lips pressed to the top of Barnes’ spine. When Barnes just makes a low sound in reply, Steve draws back, before thrusting back in so hard, Barnes’ body jerks forward and he cries out.

“What was that, Buck?” Steve asks casually. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

God, he’s being such an asshole. It’s fantastic.

Steve continues his grinding, interspersed with quick, irregular thrusts that seem to drive Barnes half out of his mind because they’re impossible to anticipate. Before long, he’s a mewling, whimpering mess, so completely unlike the tough, taciturn soldier Nat knows and tolerates that for a brief moment she feels like she’s looking at a different person. It’s him though, it’s Barnes – the metal arm is kind of unmistakable. The fact that he’s choosing to let her see him like this is a little baffling, but it’s clear that he’s a kinky bastard, and honestly? Nat digs that. She already has a newfound respect for him.

As for Steve and the different side of him she’s seeing now, she’s wavering somewhere between shock and a bizarre sort of pride. Never in a million years would she have suspected Steve could get like this, which, in hind sight, was an inexcusable oversight on her part. Sure, Steve may seem like a strait-laced guy most of the time, earnest and noble, but he’s also just a young man. A young man who’s been through more than almost anyone his age, but who’s still very much human. He can be delightfully sassy sometimes, with a quick mind and a smart mouth to match; he has a bit of a temper, doesn’t do well with authority, and he’s stubborn as all hell. So, really, it’s only logical that some of that would carry over to the bedroom. Or the gym, in this case.

Below her, Steve is still steadily bringing Barnes to orgasm without even touching his dick. It’s actually really fucking impressive and Natasha finds herself wishing she knew how it felt to be driven to the edge by someone as dedicated and single-minded as Steve. She has a sudden vision of being the filling in a supersoldier sandwich someday, and damn, if that isn’t a compelling mental image. And who knows; maybe Steve isn’t always a top. Nat isn’t opposed to a bit of good ol’ pegging either, given the chance (and luckily for her, neither is Clint).

A high, pleading whine cuts through her daydream then, which turns out to be Barnes rushing into his second orgasm of the night – still without laying a hand on his dick. He’s loud, so loud (good thing the gym is soundproof) and Steve isn’t exactly subtle either. He’s got a handful of Barnes’ hair and forces him to arch his back as he picks up the pace again in remorseless pursuit of his own climax. Barnes’ eyes roll back into his head, his mouth slack and muscles relaxing as he puts himself completely at Steve’s mercy. Suddenly, Steve pulls out, stripping his dick once, twice, before his mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ and he’s coming, too – all over Barnes’ ass and lower back, in fact. Thick, ropy spurts of come land on Barnes’ tan skin, glistening and dripping down into his ass crack, and if there was ever a more effective way of claiming someone, then Nat has yet to learn about it. Jesus fucking Christ.

The boys are panting heavily in the aftermath, so Natasha can hardly be blamed for thinking they must have finally tired each other out. Despite the arousal thrumming through her veins, even Nat feels a little worn out by this point.

Next thing she knows, though, Steve is dragging his fingers through the mess on Barnes’ back, trailing them down to his entrance and circling his rim, spreading his come around it, before slowly pushing his fingers back inside. He fingers Barnes like that, using his own come as lube, his movements slow and deliberate and with a ravenous expression on his face as he watches his own handiwork. Barnes hums lazily, his eyes closed and seemingly content to let Steve play with his ass as much as he likes.

“Did you know,” Steve rumbles, “not a moment goes by when I’m not thinking about this perfect little ass?” He twists his fingers just right, making Barnes shudder and cry out softly. “Doesn’t matter where I am, what I’m doin’... Could be in a meeting with Fury, have Nat and Sam sitting right next to me, and all I can think about is eating you out so good, working you open slowly with my fingers and my tongue until you’re loose and wet and ready to take my cock.”

Yeah. Thank you for that, Steve, that’s gonna make briefings so much easier.

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” Steve groans, pulling out his fingers and settling his hands on Barnes’ hips, tugging at them. “Come here.”

Barnes straightens up, movements fluid as a cat’s, and turns around to face Steve. His hair is a mess and his face is a little flushed, but other than that he still looks annoyingly unruffled. Locking eyes, Steve slowly lifts his hand up to Barnes’ face, and Barnes doesn’t even hesitate. He instantly parts his red lips to take Steve’s fingers, which were just up his ass and are still coated in come, into his mouth, humming around them like it’s a rare delicacy, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks them clean.

Steve makes a strangled sound, pushing down on Barnes’ tongue with his fingers and prying open his mouth before smashing their open mouths together in a filthy, furious kiss. Barnes lets him, lets Steve crowd up against to him lick into his mouth and suck on his tongue as if he’s trying to taste himself there, until, in a lightning fast move, Barnes suddenly pushes Steve back, hard.

He manages to catch Steve unawares, making him stumble and fall backwards onto the crash mat. The moment Steve’s back hits the mat, Barnes pounces, flinging himself on top of him and pinning him to the ground, and Natasha wonders, for just a split second, if something went wrong and intervention is required. But then Barnes leans down for another smooch, grinding down against Steve with a lewd roll of his hips, and she relaxes again. Man, these two are such horny bastards.

Neither of them is as sweaty or gross as they ought to be, though – courtesy of their respective versions of the serum, no doubt – but the subtle way their skin is glistening lends an almost otherworldly quality to the scene. There’s no denying that Steve and Barnes are beautiful, individually and together, like two Olympian gods descended from their mountain top to do the dirty in the depths of the Stark Tower basement. It feels strangely like a privilege, getting to watch them in action, and Natasha is appreciating every goddamn minute of it.

If Steve wanted to, he could put up a fight, wrestle Barnes over. As far as Nat knows, the two of them are more or less matched evenly for strength and deadly efficiency. So the fact that Steve stays where he is, letting Barnes writhe on top of him like a cat in heath, means that that is exactly where he wants to be. Seems like the good Captain enjoys giving over control every now and again, too.

Pushing himself up with his hands planted on either side of Steve on the mat, Barnes hovers over him with his long hair falling like a curtain around his face. For a moment, the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes like they’re the center of each other’s universe – though to be fair, that’s kind of how they look at each other always. Nat used to think it was sweet, but now she’s forever going to associate that look the two of them wanting to fuck each other’s brains out.

Straddling Steve’s waist, Barnes sits up, reaching behind him without breaking eye contact to wrap his fingers around Steve’s flushed, swollen cock. His hands aren’t small by any means, but he still doesn’t manage to circle it completely, and that’s... Yeah. He guides it to his entrance, resting the tip against his rim for a moment before slowly but deliberately sinking down on it, eyes falling closed as his chin drops forward onto his chest. He lets out a soft, breathy groan, and somehow, that little sound is more sensual than any of his previous loud professions of pleasure.

Steve’s face is contorted in an expression that could be either pleasure or pain, his hands on Barnes’ hips, fingers digging into the flesh. “Still so fucking tight, Buck,” he chokes out, almost like a sob. “You’re so fucking perfect, fuck.”

Barnes shivers under the praise, but in lieu of replying lifts himself up a little before pushing down again, making them both groan. He sets a steady rhythm, impaling himself on Steve’s dick over and over again, and from where Natasha is stationed, she has a perfect view of where their bodies are joined. Her eyes greedily track the way Barnes is sliding slowly up and down Steve’s slick cock, while the latter has to do nothing but lie back and think of America.

“Can you –”, Steve starts suddenly, then stops again.

Barnes slows down to an easy grind, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “Can I what?”

Steve looks suddenly hesitant, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment, before he tips back his head to expose his bare throat. “Will you – choke me? Please?”

Natasha does a double take and nearly swallows her tongue. What the fuck, Steve.

It seems Barnes shares her sentiments, because still completely and stares down at Steve, eyes wide and startled. “Steve…” 

“You won’t hurt me,” Steve says quickly. “I know you won’t.”

Barnes sighs, dragging a hand over his eyes. “You can’t know that, Steve. We talked about this. One wrong move and I could snap your neck. You really wanna take that risk?”

Natasha is suddenly on high alert, her muscles tensing as she watches the scene unfold with a laser focus. Not to be a buzz kill, but they could really do without having to explain to the press how Captain America died from a case of erotic asphyxiation gone wrong. And also there’s the small matter of Steve then being, you know, dead. And Barnes being responsible for it. And the potential return of the Winter Soldier. But hey, you do you, Steve.

Steve does. He sets his jaw, his features settling into a mulish expression that Natasha knows all too well and that has her swallowing a put upon sigh.

“You won’t,” Steve says, that stubborn son of a bitch. “I trust you, Buck.”

“I know you do, you reckless punk.” Barnes shakes his head in exasperation. “That’s not what I’m worried about.” He sounds resigned, though, like he knows he’ll never be able to deny Steve anyway.

Please, Buck,” Steve pleads, looking up at Barnes with his big, hopeful eyes. “Please. I told you, I just… I need to feel it.”

Barnes takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, it’s clear that Steve’s won. He shifts, leaning his right hand onto the mat next to Steve’s shoulder and lifting his left, which is when Natasha realizes that he’s actually going to use the metal arm to choke Steve with.

Jesus fuck. That’s what he needs to feel? Reckless punk is right.

Sure enough, Barnes brings his left arm to Steve’s chest, resting his palm over his heart for a touching moment, before he slides it up to his neck and gently wraps his metal fingers around his throat. The contrast between the metal and Steve’s pale skin is startling, yet strangely beautiful at the same time.

When Barnes gives an experimental squeeze, testing the waters, Steve makes a sound like he’s been punched. His torso arches up off the ground and Nat thinks, woah, he wasn’t kidding about this. It makes sense, in a twisted way. Steve’s not an Avenger for no reason; he’s just as much of a danger junkie as the rest of them.

Steve croaks out a slightly desperate “More”, and Barnes obliges, pushing down just hard enough to make him moan. He starts to roll his hips again, riding Steve leisurely while keeping a close eye on his face, carefully watching the flush on his cheeks and the way eyes have glazed over. Steve’s breathing is labored, a slight wheeze to it already, and Natasha would be worried, if it wasn’t for the fact that she knows with a bone-deep certainty now that Barnes would never seriously hurt Steve. She suspects he’d rather have his brain wiped again than do anything that would cause him harm, and so she allows herself to relax again and enjoy the unexpected but not unwelcome development. It is a damn pretty sight, after all. She shifts again, unconsciously rutting down against the platform below her in search of relief. God, what she wouldn’t give for a little friction right about now.

When Barnes lets up for a moment, lessening the pressure, Steve gulps in a lungful of air.

Again,” he gasps immediately, and Barnes’ arm whirrs ominously as his fingers tighten their grip again. Steve’s hands settle on Barnes’ hips and glide up over his strong, bare back to his shoulders, fingers clawing at his shoulder blades, metal and flesh alike. His blunt nails leave angry red marks that seem to fade again within just a few seconds, dragging his hands all the way down Barnes’ back. When he reaches the curve of his ass, he dips his long fingers between Barnes’ cheeks, sliding them down until he’s touching the place where their bodies are joined. He trails his fingertips around Barnes' rim, stretched tight around his cock, feeling himself slide slowly in and out.

When he pushes the tip of his middle finger against his rim, too, dipping it in just a little bit alongside his cock and stretching him even further, Barnes lets out such a wrecked moan that Natasha feels it vibrating down to her own core – and holy shit, it’s too much.

She’s helplessly aroused, throbbing and soaking wet, her need winning out over her rational thought when she finally, finally slips a hand past the waistband of her training pants, pushing past her underwear and between her legs. The feeling of relief when she rubs her fingertips over her clit is almost overwhelming, so intense after spending such a long time in a state of heightened arousal that she has to bite down hard on her tongue to stop herself from moaning out loud. She really doesn’t need to be caught with her hands literally down her pants. Fighting to control her breathing, she slips her middle and ring finger inside herself, moving them in and out fast and deep. Oh fuck, it’s so good… This isn’t going to take long, she knows that much.

Fortunately, the same seems to go for the two men below her. Steve’s powerful thighs are so tense they’re almost quivering, Barnes still bouncing on his dick as he continues to put pressure on Steve’s windpipe. His thumb presses in close below his jaw as Steve becomes more and more agitated with each passing second.

Finally, Barnes leans down to kiss him, catching Steve’s lower lip between his teeth. He pulls at it for a moment before letting it slip free again and soothing the sting with a wet tongue.

“This what you wanted?” he murmurs. “Does that feel good, honey?” There’s just a hint of a threat to his voice that only seems to rile Steve up further, making him whimper and buck his hips involuntarily. Barnes chuckles darkly. “Should’ve known you’d have a thing for the arm, Stevie. You always did get off on danger.” Then he lets his lips travel up the pale column of Steve’s neck to his ear and whispers, “Now fuck me like you mean it, Captain.”

Steve reacts instantly. His arms come up to wrap around Barnes’ waist, holding him in place as he his hips start to snap up, driving into him relentlessly, all smooth and powerful thrusts. It’s a fantastic visual, and Natasha’s movements quicken of their own accord. Her fingers rub fast and hard over her clit, and oh fuck, this is not going to take long at all. All the while, Barnes keeps his hand tight around Steve’s throat, making every breath a struggle, which apparently doesn’t impede Steve’s ability to fuck the living daylights out of him.

Suddenly, Steve shoves his right hand between their bodies to wrap a hand around Barnes’ neglected cock. Barnes convulses, spine curving.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” he gasps, starting to talk gibberish under the onslaught of sensations. “Ah, ah, Stevie, baby – oh god, fuck, that’s, fuck, oh my god, you, I’m gonna uhhh…”  

Steve may be unable to reply with Barnes’ hand intermittently crushing his windpipe, but if the almost delirious look on his face is anything to go by, he’s about to lose it any second now, too. He plunges in a handful more times as his fist flies over Barnes’ cock, and then Barnes spasms, choking out a pained sound as he comes for the third time that night, literally riding out his climax on Steve’s cock, as Steve looks up at him in dazed awe.

It’s stupidly hot. Nat feels the wave of pleasure rising inside of her, higher with each stroke of her fingers over her swollen clit, until it’s finally overtaking her, pulling her under. She has just enough presence of mind left to hear Steve let out a low, soulful grunt as he finally stills, burying his release deep inside Barnes’ body, right as Nat’s mouth drops open in a silent moan and her eyes roll back into her head. Her orgasm rages through her, incredibly intense, much more so than she’s experienced in a good long while.

When it finally passes, she feels spent and delightfully boneless. And as she slowly starts to come back to herself, so do Steve and Barnes. Barnes released his iron grip on Steve’s throat the second he reached his peak and has now collapsed on top of him, their heaving chests pressed together, not even a hairbreadth's space between them. Even as Steve is still drawing in raspy, shaky breaths – livid, hand-shaped bruises standing out harshly on his Irish skin – he’s hugging Barnes tightly against his chest, left hand gently stroking the damp hair at the nape of his neck. Barnes hums softly under the caresses, his eyes closed and his cheek resting against Steve’s chest, both of them sated and pleasantly exhausted.

It’s a strange moment, the three of them seemingly suspended in time and space, floating in a bubble of their own making where the outside world can’t touch them. Nat is starting to feel drowsy, the lack of sleep threatening to catch up with her, when Barnes suddenly speaks up.

“Your heartbeat is my favorite sound,” he says quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to Steve’s sternum.

Shit, that’s cute.

“Your everything is my favorite everything,” Steve counters, and it may not be very imaginative, but it’s certainly effective, because Natasha hasn’t felt this soft in a long, long time.

Burying his face in Barnes’ neck, Steve draws in a deep breath through his nose, inhaling his scent.

“I love you, Buck,” he says suddenly, sounding heartwrenchingly sincere. “I love you so much that sometimes I’m not sure how I’m supposed to contain it all.” His voice nearly breaks on the last words, and Barnes lifts his head to look at him, an alarmed look on his face.

“Hey, now, don’t get all sappy on me now, Rogers,” he says, stroking Steve’s messy hair off his forehead in a gentle, soothing gesture. “It’s all good, sweetheart, you don’t gotta –”

Steve cuts him off with a sharp shake of his head. “No, Buck, just… just lemme say this. I need to say it.”

Barnes looks down at him for a moment, assessing, before giving a small nod and lying back down on Steve’s chest, tucking his head under Steve’s chin. A few seconds of silence pass before Steve is able to continue. When he does, his voice is hoarse with emotion.

“Every morning I wake up thankful, just so fucking grateful that you’re here, and you’re alive.” He swallows audibly, squeezing shut his eyes. “And then I feel guilty for being thankful that you survived all this time, even though it meant you went through hell, and I feel so fucking selfish and I just-” His voice breaks again and he shudders, tightening his grip around Barnes’ torso, and it’s a good thing Barnes is a supersoldier too, because anyone else would’ve cracked a rib by now.

“Shhh, Steve,” Barnes soothes. “Stevie, baby. We’ve talked about this, huh?” He lifts himself up just enough so he can run a hand through Steve’s golden locks. “If I don’t get to feel guilty over something I had no control over, then neither do you, remember?”

Steve heaves a deep sigh. “I know,” he says, sounding infinitely world-weary all of a sudden. “But it ain’t fair, Buck. It’s not fucking fair.”

“I know, babydoll.” Barnes smiles, affectionate and sad at the same time. “I know. But at least we made it, huh? We made it out the other side, and we’re still here, and I still get to do this,” he says, before leaning down and pressing his lips softly to Steve’s, just breathing together, savoring the closeness.

Somehow, witnessing this tender moment between the two of them feels more voyeuristic than it did watching them have hard ‘n dirty sex. Nat feels suddenly uncomfortable, guilty about spying on them and getting her rocks off to boot. At the same time, she knows Barnes is aware she’s here, and if he really had a problem with her seeing or hearing any of this, he would’ve surely said something. She doesn’t know how to feel about Steve, but figures she should trust that Barnes wants the best for Steve too. And if he thinks it’s ok, it probably is. That thought sets her mind at ease a little, enables her to appreciate the strange beauty of the moment instead.

They really are the ultimate star-crossed lovers; overcoming frankly terrible odds to finally find each other again in a brave new world that changed almost beyond recognition in their absence. For Pete’s sake, Barnes literally broke through seventy years of brainwashing because of his love for Steve, and it’s only now that Natasha realizes how fucking monumental that is. The bond between the two of them is stronger than the stuff Steve’s shield is made out of, and she sees now that she could never truly know Steve without knowing Barnes as well. The thought makes her a little wistful.

Suddenly, she wishes Barnes would show her and the rest of gang more of himself (of his personality, that is – she’s seen just about all there is to see of his body). Because the man she’s seen tonight seems like someone worth knowing. Someone she could really hit it off with, even.

Then again, she’s hardly one to talk. She knows better than anyone why a person might choose to keep up a stoic front, keep their emotions close to their chest. Show No Weakness. That’s a lesson she and Barnes both learned the hard way. Maybe if she opened up a little to him, he might respond in kind. It goes against most of Natasha’s instincts, but if she managed it for Steve, she’ll manage it for Barnes, too. Who knows, maybe this surreal night may actually prove to be a turning point.

Just as she starts to wonder if maybe they’ve fallen asleep, Barnes stirs, groaning and attempting to stretch. Steve is forced to loosen his hold so that Barnes can lift himself off of him. Steve’s now finally soft dick slips free, and Barnes winces, rolling onto his side.

“You got me good, Captain,” he sighs, slapping a hand over his chest. “Think you might actually have to carry me up.”

Steve chuckles, getting to his feet and stretching out his lean, powerful body to its full length. He plants his hands on his hips and looks down fondly at Barnes, who’s now lying on his back, holding his arms out to Steve like a big, hairy baby with a metal arm, silently asking him to pick him up.

Steve barks out a laugh, tipping his head back as his eyes crinkle with joy. He looks very young, all of a sudden. “Mission accomplished, huh?”

Barnes pouts but makes no move to get up under his own steam, so Steve shakes his head and says, “Alright, alright. Lemme just grab our things and then I’ll carry you up, princess.”

He makes a quick round through the gym, picking up stray items of clothing here and there, using his shirt to mop up some of the more suspicious stains before draping it over his right shoulder. After he’s slipped on his sweats, he makes his way back over to Barnes, who’s still just sort of chilling on the floor. He kneels down next to him and helps him into his black sweat pants, before tucking his left arm under Barnes' shoulders and his right one under his knees, and rising to his feet with Barnes bridal style in his arms as if he weighs absolutely nothing. For a moment, they just stand there, Steve gazing down at the man in his arms with a dopey look on his face while Barnes beams right back up at him. Look at these idiots, Nat thinks affectionately, then has to roll her eyes at herself.

Steve ducks his head and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to Barnes’ lips, lingering a little. “Alright, gorgeous,” he smiles, still nosing at Barnes’ cheek. “Time for bed.”

Just as he's about to start towards the exit, he suddenly seems to remember something. “And you’re sure you disabled the security cameras, right?" he asks. "Even though I'm still not sure how you managed that so quickly."

Barnes nods. “Jarvis and I struck a deal,” he mutters into Steve’s neck, suppressing a yawn. "I have some things on Tony."

Steve hums thoughtfully. “It’s a shame, really,” he says after a moment. “Part of me wishes the others could’ve seen us. Imagine how shocked they’d be, huh?” He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Plus, your come-face is so beautiful, everyone should be able to witness it at least once in their lives.”

Barnes huffs a laugh, covertly glancing up at Natasha over Steve’s shoulder, and Nat’s ears perk up. This is interesting.

“Steve, I may not be able to tell you what my favorite color used to be,” Barnes drawls, “but I sure as hell remember your exhibitionist streak, you punk. Those few times that we went to those clubs in Brooklyn before the war are some of my favorite memories, I’ll have you know. Besides,” he grins, “you’d’ve never fucked me in the gym if you hadn’t been half hoping someone would walk in on us.”

“What?” Steve says, alarmed suddenly. “No, Buck, I didn’t plan this or anything, I swear.” He looks incredibly earnest, baby blues shining with the divine light of truth and justice, as they sometimes tend to do, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s telling the truth. “No one actually uses this gym, you know that. I really did think we were just gonna spar, but then you hadda look at me like that when I pushed you into the wall and I mean, what’s a guy to do?” He smiles then, touching his forehead to Barnes briefly. “Besides, I know that you don’t like being watched anymore, Bucky, and that’s okay. You being comfortable beats me getting to fulfill my weird fantasies every time.”

Barnes reaches up to touch Steve’s cheek. “I know, baby,” he says softly, brushing a thumb over Steve’s cheekbone. “I believe you. But just so you know, it would’ve been fine either way. I think I’m startin’ to reconsider my stance on public displays of affection.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Yeah?” he asks, surprised. “How come?”

Barnes shrugs. “No reason. Just think it could be fun. Maybe we can even find someone else who’s into that stuff,” he muses. “It’d hafta be someone who I’d feel comfortable with, but I’m pretty sure Natasha is at least a little kinky.” He smiles a little wryly. “And you trust her with your life, so I’m sure we could trust her with this, too.”

Steve stares down at him. “Are you serious?” he asks, a confused frown creasing his forehead. “But… you don’t even want me to kiss you when anyone else is around.”

Barnes grins at him, wide and fond. “I changed my mind, Steve. Can you just try and not look a gift horse in the mouth, for once in your life? And for the record, you now have permission to kiss me in public.” He pauses thoughtfully for a second. “Well, in the Tower, at least.”

“Halle-fucking-lujah,” Steve grins back, leaning down to kiss him one more time as he starts making his way towards the exit.

Before they disappear through the sliding doors, Barnes glances back at Nat over Steve’s shoulder. She raises a hand, throwing him a sloppy salute, and he winks at her, just as they round the corner.




Sunday morning is communal breakfast morning. Nobody can remember who came up with the idea, but it’s tradition now, so everyone just goes with it. All of the Avengers, give or take a Thor, gather in the kitchen on Tony and Pepper’s floor and consume more buttermilk pancakes and scrambled eggs than is socially and physically acceptable. And coffee. So much of coffee. Tony and Clint have the lion’s share of it because they’re literally fueled by caffeine, but Steve and Bucky, who aren’t even affected by it at all but just really enjoy the taste, aren’t far behind.

Natasha is sitting at the breakfast table, nursing a black coffee that may or may not contain a swig of vodka from the flask that may or may not be strapped to her ankle. Taking a sip, she tips her chair back until she’s balancing on just one leg while keeping an eye on breakfast proceedings. She only had about three hours of sleep tops, but she’s still far too wound up to be tired.

Honestly, once breakfast is over, poor Clint won’t know what hit him.

Her prospective victim is currently sitting opposite her, building a pretzel tower with help from Peter, who seems to be simultaneously studying for a physics test. Clint carefully positions the last of pretzel at the top of the stack, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his front teeth, eyes narrowing in concentration. When the construction miraculously stays upright, he claps his hands in childlike excitement, and promptly knocks the whole thing over.

His face falls. “Aw, pretzel tower, no.”

It’s… endearing. Natasha’s accepted a long time ago that’s she’s something of a morosexual.

To her right, Sam is engrossed in the Sunday Times, munching on a croissant while darting the occasional concerned glance in Clint, Peter or Natasha’s general direction. You’d have thought he would be used to living with a bunch of circus freaks by now, but apparently not. Tony, meanwhile, is tinkering with the toaster again, explaining to no one in particular how’s he’s going to make it play the A-Team theme tune to indicate the toast is done, mainly because why not.

Pepper occasionally hums in vague acknowledgement, typing away on her tablet as usual while sipping a teeny tiny sugarless espresso. By the window sits Bruce, staring out the Manhattan skyline while clad in a fluffy blue robe. His hands are clasped around a mug of green tea as if it’s his most prized possession, which might actually be the case. Natasha vividly remembers The Incident last month when the cleaner had accidentally got rid of the last of his supply of tea leaves from god knows where and he’d had to make do without them for two days. It hadn’t been pretty. 

Wanda, finally, is reading, as per usual. She’s got her nose buried in a novel with a long Russian title while she stirs her coffee by pointing a finger at the spoon and drawing little circles in the air. Natasha is pretty sure she nicked that move from one of the Harry Potter movies that they watched on one of their recent movie nights.

All in all, it’s a fairly regular Sunday morning at the Tower, apart from how the two people Natasha is most eager to see today are still conspicuously absent. She has a vivid flashback to the promise Steve had made Barnes about this morning involving a plug, and idly wonders if they’ll even bother leaving the bedroom at all today. She wouldn’t, if she were them.

Nevertheless, few minutes later the elevator gives a cheerful ding before first Steve and then Barnes step through the doors. To everyone else, they probably don’t look any different from usual, but to Natasha it’s as if she’s seeing them for the first time.

“Oh look, it’s Chip ‘n Dale,” Tony quips, before slapping himself theatrically on the forehead and adding, “Sorry, I mean the Chippendales.”

“Morning, Tony,” Steve replies drily, used to the ribbing by now. “Guys.”

A murmur of hello’s and good mornings goes up, but no one pays them any particular mind – no one but Natasha, that is, who's subjecting them to hawk-eyed scrutiny.

Barnes makes a beeline for the coffee machine, and Steve, whose favorite game for the past year has been ‘follow Bucky like you’re his goddamn shadow’, predictably makes a beeline for Barnes. He joins him at the counter and sidles up close – closer than he normally would, Nat notes with interest. And then, while Barnes is busy rummaging through one of the cupboards (probably trying to find a mug that doesn’t have Tony’s face on it) Steve steps even closer and slots himself to his back. He snakes his left arm around his waist, right hand coming up to brush aside the hair from Barnes’ nape, then presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of his neck. Instead of jumping or pulling away like he might be expected to do, Barnes just lets out a soft sigh and relaxes back against Steve’s chest.

Well, well, well, would you look at that?

Wanda indeed chooses that exact moment to finally look up from her book, mentally still in another world as her gaze wanders dazedly through the space for a few seconds. When it lands on the two supersoldiers canoodling in the kitchen, she does a visible double take and lets out a soft gasp, which draws Bruce’s attention. He looks up too, clocks the boys, then whispers “What the…”, which makes first Pepper look up, followed by Sam, who elbows Peter, who elbows Clint, who doesn’t dare elbow Natasha, and soon the whole table is staring at the boys with their mouths hanging open. The only one who’s none the wiser that something big is happening here is Tony, who is still chattering on about that one A-Team episode with the iconic bar fight.

Either Steve and Barnes are too caught up in each other to notice the sudden change in atmosphere, or they just don’t give a shit. Because when Barnes turns around in Steve’s hold and gives him a coy look, Steve leans in to kiss him without even checking if anyone might be watching.

Pepper covers her mouth with a hand to hide her delighted squeal, while Sam grins and whispers “Get it, Steve.”

Natasha, knowing from experience that Steve and Barnes are secretly massive horndogs, isn’t surprised to see the kiss deepening after only a few seconds, though the same can’t be said for the rest of them. As Barnes’ arms come up to cross behind Steve’s neck and Steve’s hands settle on Barnes’ waist, pulling their hips flush together, Peter lets out a distressed sound while Wanda mutters a quick prayer in Sokovian.

And it doesn’t end there. Slowly but surely, Steve’s hands migrate from Barnes’ hips to his ass before sliding down to the back of his thighs. Then, he lifts him off the ground and onto the counter without breaking the kiss, coming to stand between his legs and letting his hands creep up Barnes' thighs. Barnes lets Steve crowd up against him as he rests his hands on Steve's flanks and, before anyone has the chance to protest, runs them down to Steve’s ass to give it a firm squeeze. There’s a moan that could’ve come from either of them, or possibly both –

– and that’s the moment Tony finally looks up.

There is one second of shocked silence, before he bellows, “HOLY MOTHER OF MULAN”, startling everyone, including the objects of his ire. “What the hell are you pensioners doing?” He looks absolutely outraged, eyes as wide as saucers behind his black-rimmed glassed. “There are children present,” he says, pointing an almost accusing finger at Peter.

“It’s okay, Mr Stark,” Peter says hastily from behind what’s left of the pretzel tower. “I’m seventeen, actually, I do know how –”

“I’m gonna need you to stop right there,” Tony cuts in, holding up a hand.

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Calm down, Tony. You’re wildly overreacting, as usual.”

Tony starts spluttering indignantly, but fortunately for everyone, Pepper seems to have managed to take the wind out of his sails before he even really got going. There’s a reason they’re a good match.

In the meantime, Steve and Barnes have stopped whatever it was they were doing. Steve has turned around, leaning back into Barnes’s embrace, while the latter rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder as he regards them all with mild amusement.

Clint is the first to break the silence. “So, uh. When did this happen?” he asks, indicating whatever ‘this’ is by waving a hand in their general direction.

“‘This’ always happened,” Barnes grumbles good-naturedly. “It just didn’t happen in front of you guys.”

Tony’s jaw hits the floor. “Are you telling me,” he says, sounding more upset by the syllable, “that Capsicle is not actually a virgin?”

Steve turns his head to look at Barnes, the two of them sharing a look before promptly breaking out into a fit of giggles.

Sam groans. “TMI, guys.”

All in all, everything settles down remarkably quickly after that. Barnes jumps down from the counter and lets Steve take his hand to pull him towards the breakfast table. They squeeze in between Pepper and Wanda, and Steve butters a croissant which he hands to Barnes, and it’s almost as if nothing out of the ordinary even happened at all.

That is, until Barnes finally meets Natasha’s eyes across the breakfast table, after she’s been staring at him for the better part of ten minutes.

“How’d you sleep, Nat?” he asks her casually, corner of his mouth curving up in the faintest hint of a smirk.

Steve looks up from the pancakes that he was in the middle of cutting, obviously surprised at Barnes’ decision to voluntarily interact with anyone that isn’t him.

Natasha holds Barnes’ gaze, returning his smirk. “Pretty good, thanks,” she replies. “Yourself?”

Barnes inclines his head a fraction in response, and Steve narrows his eyes at her in suspicion, trying to figure out what the hell is going on here. Nat just smiles beatifically at him.

“Hey, Tony,” she says suddenly.

Tony looks up from his toaster. “What’s up, Praying Mantis?”

Nat arches an eyebrow at him. “D’you think you could get that toaster to play other songs, too?”

“Sure,” Tony shrugs. “I mean, I doubt anything could top the A-Team tune, but I guess I can’t expect everyone to have the same exquisite taste in music as I do. What’d you have in mind?”

“Ever heard of a band called Muse?” she asks. “They’ve got this great song. Excellent guitar riff.”

“Yeah, I know Muse,” Tony says, tapping his screwdriver against the table top impatiently. “Which song?”

Nat catches Steve’s eye and smirks at him. “Plug In Baby.”

As Steve suddenly chokes on his coffee for no identifiable reason, Nat and Bucky share a conspiratorial grin.