Tony freely admits he’s made a lot of poor decisions in life.
His tattoos, in spite of the fact that they are small, subtle and hurt like a bitch to get, do not factor in amongst said poor decisions no matter how furious Howard was when he found out. Thank god for liquid courage and tattoo artists willing to look the other way when a sixteen-year-old kid stumbled in with enough money to buy the whole shop. Tony has never regretted his (admittedly impulsive) decision…
Until now. Because of course, when he got the tattoos done, he wasn’t expecting to someday meet the real Steve Rogers and James Barnes.
Pepper questioned his sudden reluctance to wear anything but pants and socks after the team moved in, but fortunately she didn’t put two and two together. But then, she wouldn’t. Tony fails at a lot of things in a lot of ways, but he’s always been meticulous about covering up his tattoos – especially when he was around other people. The only people who knew or know are Howard (because Tony needed to rub it in his face), Peggy (she cried when she found out), and Rhodey (who, also drunk, accompanied Tony to get them in the first place).
He doesn’t really regret them. It’s just… awkward. Tony was there; he saw the look on Steve’s face when that woman yanked up her top and revealed an excellent portrait of Captain America’s shield on her stomach and ribs, the curve of the shield rising up under her breasts. That was not a good look. Bucky laughed himself sick afterwards, but the smile disappeared pretty fast when Winter Soldier tattoos started gaining in popularity, leaving him seemingly more confused than anything else.
And to be honest, Tony’s tattoos are way more personal than the shield or the red star. But he chalks it up to a childish mistake (a complete lie, if they disappeared tomorrow he’d go out and get them re-done because Steve and Bucky are the best men he knows) and resolves to never let either one of them – or any of the team, for that matter – know. So that’s fine.
This… this can’t really be chalked up to anything but a borderline obsession.
Tony might have a problem.
“Do you think I have a problem?” he asks out loud.
“I have been saying that for years,” JARVIS says dryly.
“Should sell you to MIT for that sass,” Tony mutters, admiring his reflection. As soon as he saw the shirt, he knew he had to have it. On the surface, it’s just a soft, cotton t-shirt that’s long enough to cover the curve of his ass; when he faces forward, the tip of his dick just peeks out from under the hem.
It’s what’s on the t-shirt that gets him excited.
It’s part of the ‘Captain America/Winter Solider: Forever Partners’ line that has really taken off. The right side of the t-shirt is a stellar replication of Captain America’s uniform. The left side is, of course, a rendition of the Winter Soldier’s uniform, complete with red star on the sleeve of the shirt.
“I’m such a pervert,” Tony says, not unhappily, wrapping his arms around himself. Steve and Bucky have no interest in him, he knows that. They’re just fine, off doing their own thing, wrapped up in a relationship for the ages. That’s done exactly nothing to change his own feelings. It started out as a crush on Steve, and Tony was doing an okay job of keeping it as just a crush. But then Bucky appeared, with his smooth talking and nightmares and silent, moody cuddles, and somehow Tony ended up with a crush on him, too. And now…
Well, now he’s completely fucked. So Tony figures he might as well have some fun with it. This shirt is as close as he’s going to ever get to the real thing, and Steve and Bucky will never know since it’s not like Tony’s gonna wear it in front of them. Besides, he stopped short of ordering the Forever Partners Deluxe Vibrator™ even though he really, really wanted to.
Maybe next time.
He backs away from the mirror and, when his knees meet the edge of the bed, falls backwards with a heavy thump. He pushes himself up the bed and ends up reclining against the pillows at the top, legs spread open comfortably, lube within each reach. There’s no meetings on the calendar, JARVIS has been told to block all non-emergency calls, and he has at least a good hour to himself.
His dick is half-hard already with anticipation and Tony sighs as he takes himself in hand, starting off with slow, easy strokes. This isn't something that he wants to rush, and he takes a moment to contemplate which of his favorite fantasies he wants to break out. Because he's selfish, all of them feature himself pretty prominently.
There's the one where Steve is tied down flat on his back while Tony sits on his cock, and then he and Bucky play with each other, forcing Steve to just watch. Then there's the good old-fashioned spit-roasting with Tony in the middle: it doesn’t matter who is where because Tony likes cock, and he appreciates one in his mouth almost as much as one up his ass, so that's just the best of both worlds.
There's the one where Bucky and Steve fuck him one after another, that supersoldier refractory period serving them both well, until Tony is a sloppy, over-sensitized mess, and then they finish up by fucking each other while he watches. Then there's the one where Bucky swallows him down while Steve rims him from behind - Tony wiggles as the image flashes through his head, his cock twitching, and yeah.
Yeah, that's definitely the one he's going with.
He settles further into the pillows and closes his eyes, picturing Steve nudging him forward on the bed until there's enough room for Steve to slip behind him and slide down. His hands settling on Tony's hips, urging him to lift up a little. Tony moans softly, obeying, and lets his free hand drift down between his spread legs to circle his hole. In his mind, Steve's tongue is going all the touching, with these gentle, kitten licks that make Tony wiggle impatiently for more. It's hot and wet and filthy and Tony whimpers when that tongue flicks directly over his hole.
Bucky appears in front of him, eyes dark with desire, kneeling over Steve. He grips Steve's cock and sits down on it effortlessly, and Tony bites his lip as twin moans echo through the air. The pressure of Steve’s tongue stops briefly as Bucky rocks back and forth, adjusting himself to Steve’s considerable girth, but then Steve licks his hole again and Bucky reaches for Tony with a predatory smirk.
He bats Tony’s hand away and bends forward, kisses the tip of Tony's dick, strangely sweet, before parting his pouty lips and taking the head into his mouth. Tony's hips jerk and he whines without meaning to, his hand speeding up a little at the image of Bucky Barnes, spread out before him and sucking Tony’s cock while fucking himself on Steve's dick.
"B-Bucky," he pants, forcing the pace of his hand to slow down, because if he keeps jerking himself off that fast, there's no way he's going to last. And Tony really, really wants to last.
It takes a lot of effort to pry one eye open, breathing heavily, and look down his body to admire the shirt and how it looks, rucked up around his thighs, so filthy with Tony’s legs spread so wide. He really wants to come all over it. He’s had many fantasies that involve being fucked up against the shield, or being fucked by Captain America or the Winter Soldier, or all of the above. This is the closest he’ll get.
So he closes his eyes again and is immediately right back in the fantasy: a moan catches in his throat when Steve's tongue finally wriggles into his entrance, opening him up. He mimics the actions with a single finger. It's uncomfortably dry, so he reaches out a hand and fumbles around for the lube.
And that's when the door opens and Steve and Bucky walk in.
"Tony, JARVIS says - jesus christ," Bucky says, stopping short. Steve bangs into him and seems about two seconds from telling Bucky off before his eyes follow Bucky's and -
Tony just lays there, frozen. Legs spread, dick hard, one finger stuffed up his ass, in mid-reach for the lube.
Wearing the shirt.
"Tony?" Bucky says again, something changing very slowly in his expression.
"I... uh..." Words dry up in Tony's throat. He can't think of a reasonable explanation, probably because there isn't one.
They're both just standing there staring at him. Their presence isn't doing anything to make the arousal die down; if anything, Tony feels even hotter. He clenches down unconsciously around his finger and his dick jumps. Two sets of eyes zero in on his spread legs.
"I want to fuck you," Bucky announces without preamble, grey eyes dark the way Tony always imagined.
"Bucky!" Steve hisses.
"What? He's wearing our shirt, Stevie. If that ain't a clear invitation to join him, I dunno what is."
"You can't just invite yourself into someone's private… session," Steve says weakly. He still isn't looking away from Tony, and now he’s licking his lips. Tony, still half-caught up in his fantasy, bites back a whimper but can’t stop his dick from twitching. A fat drop of pre-come wells up at the tip and Steve licks his lips again.
"Are you saying you don't want to?" Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow. "'Cause that's not what you were saying last night."
"I... Tony?" With what looks like considerable effort, Steve drags his eyes up to focus on Tony's face.
Tony Stark is many things, but an idiot is not one of them. He pushes aside all thoughts of love and crushes and how devastating it’ll be to just have one night and blurts out, "Fuck yes!"
Steve, surprisingly, is the first one to move. In a handful of long steps he crosses the room, puts one knee on the bed, and leans forward to grab a handful of the t-shirt and yank Tony into a dirty, open-mouthed kiss. It takes a moment for Tony to get with the program, but eventually his brain kicks into gear and he starts kissing back. He slides his finger out of his hole and starts to shut his legs so that he can lean up for better access, but a hand on his ankle stops him.
"Don't," Bucky says, still with that smirk on his face. "I'm enjoying the view."
"Glad to hear it, but don't you think you should make it a little more fair?" Tony says, head still spinning from that kiss.
Bucky cocks his head, conceding the point, and yanks his shirt over his head. Tony’s mouth goes dry at the sight of that tanned chest. He’s seen it before, of course; he crafted a new arm with T’Challa’s and Bruce’s help, and he’s the one who does fairly regular upgrades and maintenance. None of that can be done with a shirt on. Still, this is an entirely different environment than the workshop.
“The rest too,” Tony says hoarsely. Steve’s moved on to kissing his neck, teeth nipping at the flesh, and Tony can’t help tilting his head to give better access. A ragged gasp slips out when Steve’s hands slide across his chest, pinching roughly at his nipples through the cloth. The feel of the fabric against his sensitive nipples makes Tony squirm.
“You’re impatient,” Steve murmurs. “But you’re gonna be good for us, right?” He pinches a little harder, and Tony chokes on another gasp. Especially when Steve slides down, pulling at the hem of the shirt until he can suck a nipple into his mouth. He alternates between laving his tongue and sucking hard.
Movement catches Tony’s eyes, and he glances up in time to see that Bucky is unbuckling his jeans. He catches Tony’s eye and grins as he drops them, proving that he’s going commando underneath. Tony is treated to the sight of a a dark happy trail and very nice cock, half-hard and plumping quickly. Steve’s hand brushes his cock at the same time and Tony shudders, so wound up that even that has him too close.
Bucky puts a knee up on the edge of the bed, shamelessly showing off, and nudges Steve’s shoulder. “My turn. Strip, Rogers.”
Tony doesn’t get to watch Steve strip. Bucky leans in and his demanding, slow kisses steal all of Tony’s attention. Tony gives as good as he gets, biting gently at Bucky’s lower lip and running his hands up into Bucky’s hair. He likes that Bucky’s left it long, long enough that he frequently wears it up in a bun, long enough that Tony can get a good grip. The rough hands skating across his own shoulders, down across the shirt and up underneath to rub at his hips make him shiver.
Steve joins them again, kneeling on Tony’s other side, bare flesh pressing against Tony’s thighs. Two different hands grip Tony’s cock at the same time. He jumps and moans, eyes flying open, as a thumb rubs roughly over the slit. The other hand trails lower to cup his balls.
“Oh fuck, don’t,” Tony gasps, hips jerking. “You’re gonna make me come.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Bucky asks, staring at his face greedily.
“I wanna see you,” Steve says at the same time, voice rough already. “Come on, sweetheart. Give it to us.”
They’re here and naked and touching him and Tony’s too wound up even to try holding back when the thumb rubs again just right; he bucks up, shuddering all over, splattering come across their hands and on the hem of the shirt. Bucky groans like the sight is just too much and bends down, licking their hands clean before running his tongue across the fabric, as though he wants to get every last trace. Tony shivers, whimpering, when that hot tongue runs across his dick.
It feels so much better than he imagined.
“Christ, you’re hot,” Steve says, almost reverently, and leans forward to kiss him while Bucky keeps licking at his cock. Tony pants into the kiss, mind coming back online enough for him to reach down and wrap a hand around Steve’s dick. It’s bigger than he thought, and the way Steve huffs against him is going to be a recurring feature in every fantasy from now on.
“Can Steve fuck you?” Bucky says, lifting back up.
“What, do you really think I’m going to say no to that?” Tony says, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, you never know…” Bucky drawls. “Maybe you wanted to fuck me. Or for me to fuck you. Or you just wanted to watch me and Stevie fuck. Or maybe you weren’t into fucking, and you wanted me to suck you. Or you to stuck me. Or Stevie to suck us both.” His eyes are twinkling.
Tony’s brain helpfully supplies him with an image of the all of the above, but that’s about where all functioning stops.
Steve laughs. “I think you broke him,” he says to Bucky. “You’ve always been sexy, Tony, but I want to fuck you in that shirt.” He tugs on the hem of the shirt. “Look at you, wearing our uniforms. It’s like you belong to us.”
“Like?” Bucky echoes, leaning in close. He sucks Steve’s earlobe into his mouth, releasing it with a deliberate gust of air to whisper, “He does belong to us right now.”
It takes effort to keep from blurting out ‘forever, I could belong to you forever’. Tony swallows the words with difficulty, because that’s not what they’re here for, and says, “Any. All of the above. Definitely.” He spreads his legs wider, unabashed. “Lube’s right there.”
Steve reaches eagerly for the lube, but Bucky shuffles further up the bed until he’s up near Tony’s face. He’s lazily palming his cock, sliding his fingers through the pre-come oozing from the tip. “Lay back,” he says.
Tony obeys, giving Bucky the space to shift closer. The angle is a little awkward, but Tony doesn’t care; he opens his mouth and arches his back, knowing exactly what kind of image he’s presenting, before taking the head into his mouth.
And Tony’s – he’s good at this, okay, he’s sucked a fair few cocks in his life, and proven that his mouth can be useful for more than spewing out words at random. It’s something that he prides himself on; he knows he can give incredible pleasure to any lover, man or woman, just by using his lips and tongue and teeth. The startled look on Bucky’s face when Tony swallows around him, combined with the stuttered movement of his hips and the breathy gasp, prove it again.
“Tony, fuck,” Bucky hisses, swallowing hard.
“He good, Buck?” Steve asks. A finger trails around Tony’s hole, not pushing, just rubbing slowly and idly, like they have all the time in the world.
“Jesus, Stevie, he’s – goddamn.” Bucky’s eyes go hazy and soft with pleasure as he pulls back to let Tony breathe. Tony gulps in a few deep breaths.
“What are you waiting for, Rogers?” he says, voice rasping. Bucky shudders above him at the sound. “An invitation? Hurry up and fuck me already.”
“No need to be so impatient,” Steve murmurs, entirely too amused for Tony’s taste, but he does slide two fingers inside of Tony. The sudden stretch makes Tony shiver, because Steve’s fingers are way bigger than his own.
Bucky shifts back out of reach, leaning against Steve’s shoulder, helpfully gripping Tony’s ankle and pulling his legs further apart so that he can watch what Steve's doing. It feels obscene, splayed out for them like this, and Tony can feel a blush heating his cheeks. He squirms, not because he wants to get away but because he can't help it; he needs to move.
"God you're pretty," Bucky says, sounding stunned.
"I could've told you that," Tony drawls, a little strained, because Steve's fingers are steadily pumping in and out. Then a smirk tugs at the side of Steve's mouth, a dangerous smirk, and he twists his fingers and crooks them just right -
Tony jolts, moaning, at the pressure against his prostate. The sensation crawls up his back and into his brain, effectively shutting him down for a few blinding seconds. His hips jerk, uncertain whether he should press into it or try to get away, and Bucky lets go of his ankle to clamp a hand down on his thigh and hold him still. Steve rubs a little harder and Tony whines loudly, grabbing at the sheets.
"Holy shit," Bucky says, and the pleasure stops. Tony pants for breath, thinking that Steve's giving him a break, but when he opens his eyes Bucky is staring at his ankle.
Specifically, the inside of his ankle, just below the bump and above the arch of his foot.
"What the hell," Bucky says louder, and sits back to grab Tony's ankle in a grip that Tony definitely can't escape. He rubs a thumb across Tony's skin and stares, speechless.
"Buck?" Steve says, peering around Bucky's shoulder; he seems to make the connection and his head whips around, fingers sliding out of Tony's ass so that he can grab Tony's other ankle, rub the make-up away, see the numbers written across Tony's skin.
"It's not what it looks like," Tony says weakly. Which is the lamest excuse in the book, but give him a little credit. There's really not much else he can say when the truth was inked into his skin some twenty-odd years ago.
Two tiny strands of numbers. One on each ankle, which he regularly covers with make-up under socks just to make sure that no one else sees them. Until now, no one has. But then, Tony doesn't regularly have sex with supersoldiers who are very grabby.
"These are Steve's numbers," Bucky says after a long pause. "I remember them."
"And yours are here." Steve's voice sounds funny. "Tony?"
"I was just a dumb kid, okay?" Tony bursts out. His dick has definitely lost all interest in the proceedings now. His ass is cold and kind of slimy and he really just wishes they would let him close his legs, but a subtle tug only makes Steve's grip tighten automatically and he's too proud to ask them to let go.
"A dumb kid?" Steve repeats.
"Yes. A very dumb kid who was sick to death of how much Howard lorded it over me that I was nothing like either one of you." The anger drains away as fast as it comes, leaving Tony tired instead. "He said I'd never even be close, and that you would be disappointed in me if you were around. So I got those tattoos when I turned sixteen as proof that you were part of me, no matter what he said. And then, after they died -"
He can't continue. Nope. That's a little too mushy for his tastes. There's no way that he can explain that, after his parents died, the tattoos - those damn numbers - were sometimes the only thing that made Tony want to crawl back out of the bottle. That the thought of Captain America and Sergeant Barnes being disappointed in him, Howard's words being proven right, were the only thing that kept him going.
Silently, Bucky releases his ankle. Steve does the same. Tony hastily pulls his legs together and sits up, letting the shirt fall down across his dick. For a very long time, no one says anything.
Tony has the sinking suspicion that he's just ruined what would have otherwise been one of the greatest moments of his life, right up there with the moment he switched JARVIS on and the first flight in the suit.
Then Bucky says quietly, "I could never be disappointed in you, Tony. Not about something like that. Especially not a little kid. If you were - are - nothing like me, that's a good thing."
"Oh, I don't know. I seem to have a taste of mouthy little shits with brown hair," says Steve. He's smiling, corners of his mouth tugging up a little.
Bucky elbows him. "You love it."
"I do," Steve says, all seriousness, and shifts forward, putting one hand down beside Tony's hip, leaning over Tony. "Howard was full of it, and I'm glad that in some way, Bucky and I were there for you when you needed us the most."
He kisses Tony then, slower than the passion of before, drawing Tony in until Tony has no choice but to open his mouth, letting Steve in.
"Hello, still here," Bucky says, slapping Steve's ass.
Steve grunts and breaks the kiss to glare at him. Bucky smiles back smugly.
"Um," Tony says, because this is not the reaction he anticipated.
They both turn to him. It's a little overwhelming. Okay, a lot overwhelming. His heart starts racing, because their expressions are showing something an awful lot like affection and love, like the looks they only ever give each other, only directed at him, Tony Stark, instead.
"You're ours, right?" Bucky says, eyes glinting. "Forever?"
"Forever?" Tony croaks, hardly daring to hope, and - like a complete sap - Bucky lifts his hand and kisses the back of it.
"Yeah," Tony says, dizzy. "I - yeah."
"Good," Steve says, full of satisfaction. "Can I fuck you now?"
There will be time to process this later. Tony swallows hard and nods. "Fuck yes."