#polyvengers

Tony hesitated for a moment before continuing with his careful undressing, mouth turning down into an uncertain frown. “Do you not like it anymore?”

She’d miscalculated. Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other and uncrossed her arms, so her body language wasn’t as closed off. For good measure, she reached toward her back pocket for her phone. “I love your lace,” she assured him, pulling her phone out so he could watch her flick the lock screen open. “And I love the way the pattern shows up on your skin when I spank you.” She waited until his eyes darted to her phone screen, then swiped over to the movie night group chat, which was already beginning to buzz with food suggestions. She swiped into her emoticons.

To her immense pleasure, she got to watch his eyes dilate as her thumb punched in the ‘rope’ and ‘bunny’ emojis.

“Oh,” Tony said, then cleared his throat and carefully turned his head away, as if she hadn’t just clocked how much he enjoyed the idea just from his eyes. “Well. I mean. I could still. Wear the lace.”

“The lace is for me,” Natasha informed him, voice flat. “If they want to see it, they can come up and watch me spank you.” She pointed at the antique armoire that held all of their toys and implements with her free hand. “Your briefs are nice enough for movie night.”

Tony perked up a little, but only in a way that she would notice. “I can still go?”

Natasha spared one glance at her phone, which was now blowing up with ‘PLEASE!’s, just as she expected it to, before she looked back at him. The corner of her mouth twisted up into a smirk. “I think if I didn’t bring you down, it might start a riot. Pick out a set of ropes while you’re in there,” she added as Tony swiveled toward the armoire and pulled the doors open. She walked over to sit in the chair Tony had set his clothes on, lounging back in it as she watched Tony obediently pull a rack out, fingers dancing over different colors and lengths of rope. “I’m thinking… diamonds.”

Tony’s hand pausing over a length of blue jute was the only indication that he’d heard her. She decided she didn’t need to demand a verbal answer, though. She figured that going through disappointment of missing movie night and then having it put back on the table was a lot to deal with, on top of being allowed to pivot and pick his own ropes and underwear. Normally she picked everything out. But he’d only just gotten comfortable with the fact that she thought he looked good regardless of what he was wearing; he still didn’t quite believe the rest of the team thought the same, so she wanted him to have the choice of what he wore in front of them.

She wished she could show him her phone, so he could see the texts dripping with excitement and wheedling suggestions. It wouldn’t help, though, she knew—it had taken months of her taking care of him when he was at his most vulnerable before Tony had accepted it from her, and she had more hands-on contact. Steve was next on the level of trust, she figured; he was the only one who came up to sit in on their scenes. He was never interested in playing himself, but always left a new sketch of Tony’s bound body or the welts Natasha had left on it as thanks for letting him ‘intrude.’

Still, perhaps she’d show him Clint’s inundation of ‘Me first pleeeeease’s and Bruce using the custom Hulk fist emoji to argue ‘NO ME’ in response. Just as a treat for herself.

Natasha glanced back up when she noticed Tony shimmying his hips. He was finally kicking off his slacks and carefully folding them up. She leaned back in the chair, slinging her arm over the back as she watched him push his briefs down, too. “You changing into different briefs? Not that I mind. I just think the black would make the ropes pop.”

Tony hesitated, looking down at where his briefs had gathered at his ankles. Finally, though, he looked back up at her through his eyelashes, uncertainty back in his expression. “I thought. If you were doing diamonds. Perhaps… the red thong?”

“Yeah?” Natasha tilted her head, eyes raking up and down his body as she considered whether or not she liked the idea. “…I’m not mad about it,” she finally decided, crossing her arms over her chest again and tapping her phone against her chin. “I just worry… When I do the ties, I mean, the rope’s not gonna like. Chafe your balls or anything, right?”

“…No,” Tony choked out after blinking at her for a moment. He turned back to the armoire, shoulders shaking. He managed to haltingly add, “But I’ll put on the briefs. Since you’re concerned about it.”

Natasha scowled. “Are you laughing at me?!”

“You are so intimately acquainted with my body but you still don’t know what is and isn’t gonna chafe my balls,” Tony managed between semi-hysterical giggles.

“I am rescinding permission for movie night!” Natasha exclaimed, but Tony just planted his hands on his knees and laughed harder.

.-.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Clint moaned when Natasha finally stepped off the elevator, holding Tony in her arms like the princess she liked to call him sometimes.

Natasha took a moment to feel endlessly smug. All of the hours she’d spent in the gym so she would be able to carry Tony around (and toss him around, in the bedroom) had led to this. Then she continued on to the loveseat she and Tony usually shared, because she couldn’t hold him that long, and she refused to look weak in front of them when the high of showing off was still pumping victoriously through her. She very carefully set Tony down on his feet, hands lingering on him as he weaved back and forth, trying to find his balance.

Steve’s hands twitched immediately, the same way that he did when he first set up his art supplies in the bedroom when he sat in on their scenes. He wanted to draw Tony on sight; in fact, she would probably be gifted a sketch to share with Tony by the end of the week.

Natasha couldn’t blame him. Tony looked good in most things—best in lace, but ropes were a close second. She’d taken the time to carefully twist a yellow ribbon into the knots at the base of his throat and the three making the diamond pattern on his chest, helping the red rope to bring out the olive of his skin. It had taken a little finagling, but she’d managed to get the ropes just tight enough and placed just so that his pecs gave a nice squish under her hands, and she knew Thor and Clint would like it, too. The matching diamond surrounding the bulge in his briefs added a cohesiveness to the ensemble. She grabbed the knot tied over his pelvis and jerked on it, and Tony wasn’t the only one who whimpered in response, but his, at least, was muffled behind his red ball gag.

“Let’s show them the star of the show,” Natasha cooed, using her grip around the knot to tug him around on stumbling feet so they could show off the back of the ropes around his hips.

“Holy shit,” Thor breathed, and Steve dropped his beer, speechless, as they took in how the ropes lovingly cupped each cheek, like each one was a particularly ripe peach that needed to be bitten into.

Natasha smacked her free hand over Tony’s left cheek, just for good measure, and Clint whimpered again as it jiggled before falling still. “I thought we could watch something a little mindless tonight,” she offered, palming the other cheek and squeezing until… someone whimpered again. It might have been Tony, but she couldn’t be sure. “Tony’s not good for much, and if he misses Escape from New York, he’s going to be sad.”

“We wouldn’t want Tony to be sad,” Thor agreed, but his gaze was more hungry than sympathetic.

Natasha fell back onto the loveseat and reached out to grab the ropes over his hips. Tony made a muffled yelping sound as she tugged, stumbling over both of their feet and pitching forward toward her. She caught him easily, maneuvering him around to ease him down onto his knees between her feet. “No fucking him tonight,” she said once she’d pulled his head to rest on her knee, blinking up at her with bleary eyes. She decided to ignore the groans of complaint she received for her order, carefully carding her fingers through Tony’s hair. “He’s in that weird place where he needs to be down but is also too keyed up not to worry about how he’s pleasing you.”

“Aw,” Steve said, frowning in concern. “I’ll reschedule some of our training plans. I had no idea he was so anxious.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Natasha purred, instead of admitting that she also hadn’t noticed. Tony was like a cat that way, hiding what he needed until he simply couldn’t anymore. She’d just have to be more careful next time. She looked back down at Tony, hands cradling his head so she could tip it back, force him to make eye contact with her. He blinked, slow and syrupy, pupils already blown wide. He was already almost out of it. “You can fondle him through the briefs,” she decided, and Tony let out a shuddering sigh around the ball gag in his mouth. “Draw straws or something. I don’t want a fight when he’s vulnerable.”

She heard them start shuffling around immediately and couldn’t help the corner of her mouth quirking up smugly when she saw Tony’s eyelids flutter. “Hear that, Умница? We’re going to take such good care of you.”

Tony leaned forward to lay his head on her lap, moaning quietly around the gag. Somehow, it sounded almost thankful. She decided to pet his head instead of check in. Even like this, tied up and gagged, he was still incredibly vulnerable. If she drew attention to things that made him embarrassed, he could end the scene early, and she really wanted him to have a night where he didn’t need to think—just to be a good little rope bunny who let his friends take care of him.

“I get him after the first half hour of the movie,” Bruce said, grinning widely as he came to sit beside Natasha on the loveseat. “I’ll sit here so we don’t have to move him until he’s… a little further down.”

Tony mewled a complaint, as if trying to urge them that he didn’t need that. Natasha only acknowledged it by gripping his hair tighter until he whimpered in defeat. It was her job to take care of him, and sometimes that meant ignoring his people pleasing nature, even if it made him feel bad for a minute. He’d be well under by the time it was Bruce’s turn to cuddle him, and then he wouldn’t feel so needy, instead just happily accepting anything that happened to him. She kept his hair in a tight grip for just a bit longer, as a reminder of that, then released it slowly, scratching her nails along his scalp while it was still tingling so she could feel him shiver against her legs.

Natasha spent the first half hour of Mission: Impossible gently massaging Tony’s head, focusing most of her effort at the base of his skull and around his temples. That was where he carried most of his tension, and she wanted him loose and content by the time she passed him over to Bruce.

Tony’s head was lolling between her palms when Bruce finally adjusted himself in the seat next to her, and she carefully tipped his head back to check his face. It was lax, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, and his lips were red and wet around the ball gag spreading them. His throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing, wordlessly asking for something more in his mouth.

“No, Умница,” she told him firmly. “Later, when you’re more lucid.”

Tony obediently tipped his cheek into her palm and sighed quietly as he relaxed against her. He made a sound that might have been a complaint any other time, but mostly just sounded conceding, now. She felt a pang of regret. She should have been keeping a better eye on him. She’d known he hadn’t gotten down recently, that he would eventually need to, and with the way he’d finally admitted defeat and told her that he wouldn’t make it, she’d clearly missed signs, even if Tony did do his best to hide them. He’d probably give her the out of ‘too many villains attacking’ and ‘between battles and board meetings’ and whatever other excuse he could find, but she knew she would need to do better next time.

“My turn?” Bruce offered, as if she might have changed her mind after examining him.

Natasha gave Tony a fond pat on the head. “Your turn,” she agreed, letting go of Tony’s head so she could hook her arms under his and help drag him upright. She slanted him a rueful smile as she swiveled to plop Tony directly into his lap. “Do I need to set a timer on my phone?”

“Clint will know when it’s his turn,” Bruce answered, carefully situating Tony’s legs over his own and then drawing him back to rest against his chest.

Natasha was secretly glad it was Bruce, first, leaning her cheek on her hand and watching carefully for any signs of distress from either of them. She didn’t know all of Bruce’s… proclivities, but she did know that he wasn’t one for exhibitionism. If they were all in the same room, he truly seemed to just like holding Tony, feeling his weight against him. ‘It’s grounding,’ he’d explained once when Natasha had expressed concern that he felt pressured to hold him, and as she watched him tuck his face into Tony’s throat, she figured she understood, at least as much as she needed to—that Tony was basically a weighted blanket, but with the bonus of a steady and calm heartbeat. Like a cat sprawling over his chest and purring, she never said, but knew in her heart was true.

Tony seemed to melt back against Bruce, thighs spreading in the space he was given, eyes drifting shut as he turned and nuzzled against him. Bruce’s hands came to rest on his ribs, thumbs tucking under the lengths of rope there, and Tony shuddered. Bruce was holding him up, Natasha realized as Tony’s breath shuddered in his chest. Bruce was bracing Tony’s torso, so he didn’t have to sit so stiffly with the arc reactor, taking over holding his posture. Tony melted like it was better than sex and massage and being hand-fed altogether, and Bruce murmured something against his throat that made a shiver run through Tony’s body before he fell limp.

Natasha magnanimously decided not to listen in and hear what it was. That was something special from Bruce, just for Tony. She glanced over at Steve, to see if he’d been listening in, but he’d procured one of his sketchbooks while she’d been focused wholly on Tony, and she got the feeling there would be several new sketches by the next day for them to peruse.

“What’s the word on hickeys?” Clint whispered, leaning over the arm of the couch so she could hear him better.

Natasha spared a thought for checking Tony’s calendar, then decided it didn’t matter. If Pepper got mad, she’d send her an apology and a voucher to a spa day. Pepper seemed to soften up pretty quickly when Natasha was the one apologizing. “So long as he doesn’t make any objections, anything goes.”

“Yes!” Clint hissed, pumping his fist, and when Thor sat up a little straighter, clearly having eavesdropped, he gave him an air high-five across the room.

Natasha snorted in amusement, shaking her head, then turned her gaze back on Tony and Bruce. She knew that Bruce would never do anything to hurt him, but she was still feeling a little overprotective because of her missing what were probably several minute cries for help, to be taken down, to stop thinking and be taken care of.

Clint stood just as Tom Cruise decided they were going to infiltrate the CIA, making his way over carefully. Natasha watched with sharp eyes, ears already straining for any sound of distress, just in case. Clint murmured something to Bruce, like ‘you sure?’ or ‘it’s okay,’ and Bruce nodded, turning his head to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek. Clint took it as the dismissal it was, carefully wedging an arm under Tony’s knees and behind his back. Tony made a sound of distress, but it was obviously because he was comfortable and didn’t want to be moved, and he didn’t get to make that decision, so Natasha said nothing.

Clint carried Tony back to his seat on the couch with only a smug grin in Natasha’s direction, and she watched as he carefully set Tony on his legs so his knees were thrown over Clint’s thighs, pulling him back to lay over his chest much like Bruce had. He nudged his hand under Tony’s chin, and Tony tipped his head back over his shoulder obediently, eyes fluttering as he tried to decide to melt into it or tense up.

Clint murmured a clear and fond ‘good boy’ before he turned his head and bit down on Tony’s throat, making him jerk and whine against the gag between his teeth. Natasha tensed, but finally, the whine registered as a complaint rather than a desire for Clint to actually stop, so she sat back in her seat again.

Clint wasn’t one to waste time, especially when he had to share, and Natasha bit back a smirk when she watched him spread his knees apart, forcing Tony’s thighs open wide. It did a good job of showing off the diamond of the ropes around his groin, how they met between his cheeks to give them more definition. His hand slipped down, fingers trailing over the ropes reverently, following them down to where they met just below Tony’s balls. Then Clint pressed his hand down, palm rubbing over Tony’s cock, fingers expertly curling back up under his balls so his hips jerked as if to escape.

“Gonna have you humping my hand by the time I gotta pass you off to Thor,” Clint promised over the whines and squeals of complaint escaping Tony’s gag.

Natasha watched Tony’s eyes widen sightlessly, blush beginning to spread from his cheeks down to his throat, as if the idea had never occurred to him. She decided not to say anything, instead cataloguing each sound slipping past the ball gag, each movement as Clint slid an arm around his chest to hold him in place as he started rubbing his cock in earnest. He’d probably come well before it was Thor’s turn; even ignoring the fact that they hadn’t gotten to play lately, they hadn’t had the energy to have sex. She got the feeling that no one would mind, though, eyes darting over as Steve frantically turned the page in his sketchbook to a clean one and then focused back on Tony.

She got the feeling that Tony wouldn’t mind, either, watching as his hips began to shake, as if he was trying to fight the urge to hump into Clint’s grip. He’d lose to his urges eventually. He always did.

Clint trailed his fingers along the rope again, ignoring Tony’s whimper of complaint so he could hook them in the rope and pull, and Tony’s toes curled in response as it tugged the ropes between his cheeks tight. “Shame these ropes make it impossible to rub over your hole,” Clint grumbled, tugging again, then let it drop so he could put his hand back on Tony’s cock. “You’re always a sucker for your hole getting played with.”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, then shrugged, smirking a little. “I mean. Just because it’s covered doesn’t mean you can’t play with it.” She preened in her seat as everyone turned to look at her, dumbfounded, like all the air had been sucked out of the room. “I always think about Tony’s pleasure when he’s in the ropes.”

Clint stared at her, then reached down for the ropes again, tugging them up tight, and Tony let out a muffled keen, eyes rolling back, hips jerking up to try and escape the pressure. “Is there a plug in our pretty bunny?” he asked, not letting up at all, and Tony’s thighs quivered over his knees, hips twitching uselessly as Clint spread his own so he couldn’t get leverage anymore.

Natasha shrugged again. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Clint stared at her for a moment longer, then let go of the rope, and Tony fell limp as if he was a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Since I can’t take it out to fuck him, I guess it doesn’t matter,” he muttered, turning to latch onto Tony’s throat again as he wrapped his fingers around Tony’s cock and began stroking him fast enough that Natasha genuinely feared fabric burn on him.

Tony jerked and whined in Clint’s lap, attempting to blink tears from his eyes and mostly failing as they instead rolled down his red cheeks. Natasha watched him for a moment, concerned, but he wasn’t saying anything that resembled his safe word, and his eyes weren’t blinking an SOS either. She allowed herself to relax. It appeared he was only overwhelmed. Clint had that effect on people. Or, well, he had that effect on Tony. He liked to tout that the circus had taught him more than how to shoot arrows, and no matter how much Tony wheedled or demanded, Clint never explained—only ever promised to show him.

Natasha could almost feel sorry for him, if Tony didn’t bring it upon himself every time.

“Will you move your hand a little to the left,” Steve said, and Natasha watched, astounded, as Clint obliged, twisting his wrist into what was clearly an uncomfortable position.

“What the fuck,” she began, more air than word.

Bruce nudged her, and she looked at him to see his smile had gone wry and amused. “Oh, Steve gives us copies of his sketches if we do him favors. He makes listening to his requests really easy.”

Natasha tipped her head, considering. Steve had never asked her if that was okay, but then, she figured he didn’t really need to. It was his art, even if the subject technically belonged to her.

Tony made a sound, high and reedy, and Natasha turned her gaze back to him just in time to watch Tony throw his head back over Clint’s shoulder. His hips jerked up, pressing his cock more insistently into Clint’s hand, and Clint helpfully tightened his grip around him.

“You really did get him to start humping your hand,” Natasha observed, raising her eyebrows as she watched Tony’s muscles strain, hips rutting forward without shame. “Poor Умница. So needy.” She tipped her head as Tony made another reedy noise, drool beginning to drip out from around his gag, the corners of his lips. She’d have to make sure to get some water into him soon. It would probably be better to take the gag out, anyway. It wasn’t like his begging did much—everyone already knew to ask her permission.

Clint finally reached down with his other hand to tug at the ropes again, and Tony made a choked sound, then keened, hips stuttering as if he didn’t know which way to move, up into Clint’s hand or down against the rope. As quickly as every one of his muscles clenched, though, he sagged, twitching with aftershocks as Clint gave his cock a few more strokes, just for good measure.

Natasha let Clint paw at his softening cock until Tony’s noises turned plaintive, then stood, slanting him a sharp look. “Enough.”

“Fine,” Clint grumbled, sliding his hand up over Tony’s quivering abs. Belatedly, he allowed the rope to slip from his fingers. Tony’s head flopped back over Clint’s shoulder, chest heaving, and Clint wasted no time sucking another hickey into his throat while he had the chance.

“Mouth only now,” Natasha added, pointing at Clint sternly, and waited until she got a reluctant eye roll before she turned to head toward the kitchen. She lingered by the cabinets for a moment, then decided against a snack. She could feed him once he was tucked securely in bed and didn’t have sharp eyes watching him at his most vulnerable. She grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, even though he’d probably only be able to finish one, then grabbed a fistful of napkins from the table as an afterthought. Once properly armed, she returned to the common room.

Clint had licked his way up to Tony’s jaw, where he was leaving a spectacular bruise. Natasha couldn’t help a sigh. Pepper would be less understanding about that one. Maybe she’d make sure a new pair of shoes were waiting for her after the spa treatment.

Natasha grabbed Clint’s hair and tugged, a warning that she wasn’t afraid to wrench his head aside. Luckily, Clint seemed as reluctant to upset Tony as she was, and he pulled his mouth away with sigh. “Keep your hands still,” she warned, dumping the water bottles beside him on the couch so she could cradle Tony’s head between her hands.

“Fine,” Clint agreed easily, placing one hand on Tony’s stomach and the other on the inside of a still-trembling thigh.

Natasha scratched her nails over Tony’s scalp until his breath steadied and his eyes fluttered shut. Once she was certain he was relaxed again, she slid her hands back, fingers tracing the leather of the belts keeping the ball gag in place until they came to the clasp. “Here we go, Умница. Let’s get some water in you.” The gag slipped from Tony’s lips with a slick, wet sound, followed by a long, shuddering breath. Natasha let him take a few deep breaths, dabbing the drool from his trembling mouth as his chest heaved, before she turned and cracked open one of the bottles.

“Is he gonna choke like this?” Clint asked quietly.

“Not if you hold his head up properly,” Natasha scoffed, and Clint rolled his eyes but obediently lifted his hands to cradle either side of Tony’s head. She pressed the backs of her fingers to Tony’s chin, eyes softening. “Умница, open up for me.”

Tony blinked, a slow up-and-down of clumped-together eyelashes that sent two more tears rolling down his cheeks. Then the order registered, and his swollen lips parted. Natasha carefully tipped the water bottle to his mouth, only allowing little sips to pass into it. Tony was so out of it, she sincerely worried he might choke accidentally. Even the coldness from the fridge couldn’t shock him from where he was clearly floating, a perfect little doll for her to use as she saw fit.

Tony twitched his head away uselessly once he’d sipped half the bottle, but Natasha took it as the ‘no more’ he meant it to be, twisting the lid back on easily and setting both bottles on the coffee table. Mission: Impossible was rolling its credits behind her, and she considered whether two hours should be the limit. She had him lean forward so she could check the ropes binding his wrists, but his hands were still warm, and he flexed his fingers when she tapped on them. He even managed to puff out a voiceless ‘please’ against the side of her face, eyes wide and pleading.

Natasha sighed, unable to help the corner of her mouth curving up. “Fine. But we’re going upstairs after Thor gets his turn.” He smiled, wide and mindless, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his lips before she carefully scooped him up out of Clint’s lap. She turned on one heel and took a step towards the other loveseat that Steve and Thor were sharing, then deposited Tony onto Thor’s lap before she could accidentally drop him.

Thor’s hand immediately came up to squeeze one of Tony’s pecs, massaging the flesh slow and considering. Finally, he trapped Tony’s nipple between two fingers and tugged until Tony arched his back and whined. “I want to fuck his thighs,” he said simply as Tony twitched and mewled under his hand.

‘I said no fucking’ was on the tip of Natasha’s tongue, but then she watched Thor’s other hand stroke the soft, pale inside of Tony’s left thigh, and she took a moment to think about it. She’d already informed Tony that she wasn’t letting his holes get used tonight, that she could sit on his face or peg him the next day, and while he’d been disappointed, he understood. But using his thighs as a makeshift fleshlight wasn’t using his holes. And Tony was already sunk into the headspace of ‘pleasure object’ rather than ‘needy sub.’ She crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. “And you just happened to bring lube down with you to team movie night?”

“Natasha,” Thor scoffed, but there was an edge of amusement in the twinkle of his eye. “I always have lube. The oil I use on the leather of my hammer has many uses.”

Natasha didn’t choke on the arousal that filled her at his lascivious smirk, but barely. “Fine, but I’m taking him back to the penthouse after,” she repeated gruffly. If she’d had a moment, she probably could have come up with a more biting retort, but sometimes she had to admit that Thor had the upper hand after a thousand years of living.

Steve bolted from his seat beside Thor to sit next to Clint on the couch so he could get a better view, hands shaking as he flipped to a clean sheet of paper. Natasha almost felt sorry for him—his erection looked painful where it was pressing up against the seam of his jeans. Perhaps she’d ask Tony if he wanted Steve to fuck him tomorrow. He’d mentioned that he enjoyed being pegged by her, but sometimes he missed the sensation of cum filling his belly and dripping out of his hole throughout the day.

But that was a question for later, when Tony was lucid and could accept whether or not Steve was comfortable with it. She dropped into the seat Steve had vacated, eyes sharp as she watched Thor grab the flask of oil he used on Mjolnir’s leather handle and pour a healthy amount into his other palm. As he smoothed it over the inside of Tony’s left thigh, his skin began to glisten, almost glowing in the dimmed lights of the living room. Tony let out a quiet huff, tipping his head back against Thor’s shoulder with a quiet moan as he massaged the muscle of his thigh in time with the other hand squeezing his pec. Natasha couldn’t help but feel pleased that her art was being appreciated; she’d had to place the ropes just so to get a little give to his chest with the way the ropes sat around the reactor, and Tony was in just the right headspace that her blasé ‘so they can play with your tits’ had made him blush in arousal instead of shame.

Thor switched hands, rubbing oil onto the inside of Tony’s right thigh as his other hand reached up, massaging his other pec for a moment before very deliberately rubbing his thumb over his nipple. “Would have looked better with clamps,” he said, and Tony shuddered.

Natasha swallowed thickly. She’d thought about it, but she hadn’t wanted to have to take them off and ruin the headspace Tony was in. His chest had been her biggest obstacle to overcome as they learned each other’s limits—parts of it had little to no sensation with the damage that had been done to it by the shrapnel and reactor. Conversely, while he didn’t have a lot of feeling, if she kept his nipples clamped too long, it could make his entire chest hurt for days, and not in a fun ‘I’m reminded of the deliciously kinky sex we had’ way. At this point, fifteen minutes was as long as she dared to leave them, and that would have disrupted Tony with whoever’s lap he sat on. She’d just wanted him to relax, comfortable and warm, without having to worry if he’d have to take muscle relaxers to stop his chest spasming in the coming week.

Thor seemed to notice how uncomfortable she was, because he offered her a kind smile. Somehow, though, his voice still dripped with sex as he added, “Another time, maybe.” He pressed his lips to Tony’s ear. “Are you ready, Anthony?”

Tony’s lips shaped another breathless ‘please,’ rubbing his slick thighs together. Thor lifted him easily so he could shove his sweatpants down, then settled Tony back in his lap. Tony made a soft sound in the back of his throat, and Natasha would bet it was from how casually Thor hefted his weight rather than from feeling Thor’s thick cock pushing up between his thighs.

Natasha spared a glance to the others as Thor gripped Tony’s thighs to keep the grip around his cock tight and began bouncing him on his lap. Bruce was scrolling through movie options, though she’d expected as much; he’d mentioned that ever since he’d gotten the other guy, his libido was thoroughly tanked. It was why no one really argued when he wanted to take his turn first. Clint was watching them with rapt attention, elbows on his knees so he could lean forward without falling off the couch. Steve looked completely overwhelmed, mouth gaping open and his pencil having fallen from his lax fingers. She considered reaching out and closing his mouth for him, but as she looked back at Thor, watching as he bounced Tony easily on his lap, she couldn’t really blame him.

“Can he come again?” Thor murmured, slanting her a considering look.

Natasha hummed, watching as drool began to drip from the corner of Tony’s mouth, eyes half-open and sightless. “Probably not. He was really keyed up when we were changing clothes for movie night. Almost didn’t wanna let him come down.”

“Poor thing,” Thor cooed, and any other time, Tony probably would have bristled at the tone. Instead, he just let out a little hiccup, stomach spasming with the effort of holding himself upright. Thor gamely lifted one hand to his chest, taking his weight and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck when he sighed in relief.

Natasha got up to grab the half-empty water bottle again. Tony was reaching his limit, and she wanted him to finish the bottle at least before she took him back upstairs. It would be easier to do it with Thor cradling him up for her like Clint had. She turned back to them and bit back an offended squawk when she found that in the ten seconds her back had been turned, Thor had apparently fucked himself to completion, cum splattered up against Tony’s belly and across his thighs. Somehow his cock still looked impressive even as it slowly went flaccid between Tony’s trembling thighs. “What the fuck. You didn’t even make a sound.”

Thor blinked at her placidly even as he scratched over Tony’s scalp like he was a particularly needy cat. “Sometimes when you’re being tracked by the enemy, your pleasure has to be quick and quiet.”

“I can’t fucking stand you,” Natasha hissed, because she was not going to think about Thor and some faceless person getting off while their enemies advanced on them without Tony there to howl questions at him. Watching him get worked up was part of the fun, but he also felt incredibly left out when he realized he didn’t know something the others did. While interesting, she now had the task of making sure Tony knew that Thor apparently fucked while enemies chased him, which wasn’t difficult, but she’d have to field questions and his realization that she didn’t chase after answers because he’d been vulnerable.

Well. That was all part of caring for Tony, she figured, sighing.

Tony drank most of the bottle before he started letting the water just run out of his mouth, and at least Natasha got the pleasure of hearing Thor yelp in surprise as it splattered onto his dick still nestled between Tony’s thighs. She put the cap back on the water bottle and tossed it aside. She could get more water in him after he was cleaned up and settled. Carefully, ignoring Thor’s grumbling, she slid her arms under Tony’s knees and just under his shoulder blades and delicately heaved him up into her arms.

“God, that’s so hot,” Clint moaned again, sagging in his seat.

Natasha took a moment to preen, because it was hot that she could pick Tony up, and she worked hard to be able to. Then she turned and headed to the elevator, because she wasn’t going to let them know that it was effort and carefully planned weight distribution that got her this far.

“Do you need any help?” Bruce called after her. He would, sometimes, when Tony was especially floppy and she needed help getting him clean.

Natasha hummed as she stepped into the waiting elevator, glancing down at Tony. His eyes were heavy-lidded and vacant, swollen lips parted to let out soft panting sounds as he worked to center himself and catch his breath. He’d probably be a little too floppy, but he also looked so out of it that she didn’t want too many people looking at him while he was. “No. Not tonight.”

“I’ll bring by breakfast tomorrow,” Steve offered, leaning over the back of the couch, a questioning lilt to his voice as his eyes raked over Tony’s limp form.

‘Breakfast’ usually meant donuts, coffee, and whatever sketches he’d finished for Tony to peruse. Natasha considered this, then offered, “Perhaps brunch,” which meant ‘later, with actual eggs and bacon, or at least a slathered bagel.’

Steve offered her a thumbs up, and the doors slid closed. Natasha turned her attention to Tony, watching him blink and breathe and simply exist in her arms. She took a moment to feel guilty that it had gotten to this point, then quickly brushed it off. Tony wouldn’t want her to feel guilty when he’d been actively hiding his needs, and quite frankly, she couldn’t do her best to help him if she felt bad. She’d just have to be more cognizant of how much downtime he got. The guilt would turn to determination by morning.

Tony whined loudly when she laid him over the arm of the comfy chair in his room, wiggling uselessly, and she gave him a firm pat on the ass, just a hint of sting, to warn him. Once he fell still again, she reached out and nimbly picked the ropes free from around his arms, massaging from elbow to finger tip before she carefully stretched his arms forward, so he was reaching to the other arm rest. Tony whined again, back spasming as the muscles that had been locked in place for the tie finally got relief, relaxing and stretching. She rubbed his shoulders and back briefly, just to get the circulation going again, then hooked her hands under his arms so she could manhandle him into a sitting position.

This was her favorite part, she thought, carefully unwinding lengths of rope from around Tony’s limp body. He always managed to peel his eyes open and watch her hands, even as his body twitched and jerked in relief as it finally got to relax. It was the most vulnerable he ever was, unable to even move without help, having to let her take care of him. Being tied was a choice he made and allowed. At this point, he barely had the strength to blink, and Natasha always made sure she took the best care of him then.

“Look pretty good, all slick and sticky,” Natasha offered before she grabbed the knots over his hips and tugged him down in the seat so she could unwind his lower ropes. Tony barely made a sound, more a burst of air being knocked out of him than actual complaint, so she continued, “Maybe we can try out free use. Just for the team, of course. What do you think? Kneeling at my feet until one of the team comes over and asks me for use of your mouth or ass?”

Tony might a soft groaning sound, but that could have been from her dropping the ropes to the floor and grabbing his briefs to try and pull them down. Pivoting quickly, she pulled a knife from her thigh and simply slit his briefs down the sides, so she could pull the front piece off while the bottom stayed on the seat. She grabbed the pack of cleaning wipes from the table next to the chair and carefully cleaned his sticky groin, then used another handful to clean the oil and Thor’s cum from his lightly-chafed thighs. A shower or bath would probably be easier, but she didn’t want to risk a flashback while he was so far under, so this would have to do until she could coax him into the shower tomorrow by promising a quickie in the bathroom.

“Are you ready for this plug to come out, Умница?” she asked gently, placing her hands firmly on his hips.

Tony blinked at her slowly, a smidge of awareness entering his gaze. She waited patiently. She knew he could easily keep it in for hours longer, especially if he was sleeping, but she didn’t want him to feel overwhelmed. She pressed her thumbs in over his hip bones, hoping to ground him further. If he couldn’t answer, she’d take it out and explain it was for safety reasons tomorrow. If he could answer her, though, she’d feel better about just getting him into bed and feeding him some cheese crackers between sips of water until he fell asleep.

“…In,” Tony managed roughly.

Natasha relaxed a little. It wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for, but Tony knew his limits better than anyone. “Okay,” she answered simply, and then, “I’m moving you to the bed.”

“Mmh,” Tony managed before she carefully pulled him up into her arms again. She stumbled a bit next to the bed, and she cursed herself for not accepting her help, but only for a moment—Tony made no noise of fright, and he blinked up at her placidly as she set him down on the bed a little harder than she meant. “Hi.”

Natasha couldn’t help the wide smile it brought to her lips. “Hi, Умница. You were such a good boy for me.” Tony smiled back wordlessly, and she carefully ran her hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes. She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at him. “Are you sure about the plug staying in overnight, Tony?”

Tony blinked at her again, just as sated and quiet as he had before. “Maybe Steve can take it out at ‘brunch.’”

Natasha let out a bark of laughter before she could stop herself. “Ha! Tony,” she rallied sternly. “That’s something to discuss in private first instead of just asking him.”

“We’ll have time,” Tony grumbled, even as he wiggled down upward so his head was on his pillow at the angle he preferred for eating and drinking. “He always takes time to make breakfast in bed for me after nights like this. He hand-squeezes the orange juice.”

“He never gives me hand-squeezed orange juice,” Natasha grumbled, taking a moment to shed her own clothes. She grabbed a box of cheese crackers and a water bottle and walked around to clamber onto the other side of the bed.

Tony opened his mouth, and kept it open until Natasha rolled her eyes and delicately placed a cracker onto his tongue. He chewed carefully and swallowed, then answered, “Maybe if you got worked over by a mean Domme, he’d let you have some.”

“Oh, so I’m mean?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow at him, but kept anything that could be even vaguely considered negative out of her tone.

“Didn’t even let me come twice,” Tony mumbled before she pushed another cracker into his mouth.

Natasha scoffed. “You couldn’t come again tonight if your life depended on it, brat. Eat your fucking cracker.”

“I could,” Tony muttered, mostly to himself, but let her follow the cracker with a sip of water without struggle. “Can I at least use your boobs as pillows?”

“If that’ll make you stop whining like a child,” Natasha answered magnanimously. “Cracker.”

Tony ate another cracker. “You could at least have gotten donuts.”

“I felt like we had powdered sugar in the bed for weeks even after changing the sheets, so no, that’s not happening,” Natasha said. She shoved another cracker in his mouth. “If you’re good and finish this bottle of water, I’ll tell Steve to bring exactly one of your favorite donuts for brunch.”

Warnings/tags: object insertion, belly bulge, noncon, gangbang, forced feminization, held down, bondage, misogyny, feminine words for male genitals, breeding kink, crying, humiliation, dehumanization, nipple play

Peter stretched his aching arms over his head. He lumbered into the locker room and soaked up the cool air with gratitude. At least that was the last practice for the week. He couldn't wait to get home for a long hot bath. The girls weren't exactly heavy, but being the only guy on the squad meant he was the only one to do lifts and the permanent bottom of the pyramid. He loved it, but man did it mean he was always sore.

At least the locker room was pretty quiet. A few guys lingered, chatting by the lockers. Peter considered grabbing his bag and changing at home, but he was so sweaty. He couldn't stand the idea of riding all the way home like this. Not to mention, it was just common courtesy not to smell like sweaty ass on the subway. Though, he was probably the only one to respect that rule.

He unlocked his locker and stripped down to his boxers. He let the A/C cool his sticky skin. The showers were defunct these days, but he had a towel and some spray on deodorant and that would have to do until he got home.

"Peter," a voice drawled. Tony Stark leaned against the locker next to him. "How was cheerleading?"

"It was great. I think everyone's gonna be impressed."

"That's cute," he smirked. "Hey, Bucky! Are you impressed by cheerleaders?"

"I don't know , Tony. How big are their racks?" Bucky answered. He threw a leg over the bench and plopped down. His hair was shiny in the front from sweat and he was still in his football uniform.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. They're not impressed by you guys either."

"Aren't you a cheerleader, Petey? Do you think we're impressive?"

"An impressive bunch of assholes." Peter grabbed his shorts and tried to step into them, but Tony yanked them out of his hand. "Hey!"

"Where's your little skirt, cheerleader?" He asked.

Peter scowled. "Stop it."

"Why? Got your spanks in a knot?"

Bucky laughed. "You should try pigtails next week. It really works for the girls." He whistled.

"Girls? But Bucky, cheerleaders are girls," Tony teased.

"You're fucking idiots." Peter tried to yank the shorts back from Tony's hands, but he couldn't wrestle them away.

"Those are really rude words for such a sweet face. Somebody ought to wash your mouth out."

Peter leaned towards him. "Fuck you, Tony," he growled. Then he gasped, drawing back and grabbing at his ankles as someone came up behind him and pulled his boxers down. The room erupted with laughter.

Steve came around to stand beside Bucky and enjoy the show, the obvious perpetrator. "Looks like a girl to me," he teased.

"Yeah," Tony whistled. "Look at this little clit." In Peter's embarrassment he wasn't quick enough to stop him before Tony was holding his flaccid dick between two fingers. He reeled back and bent to pull up his boxers only to run into someone behind him.

"Going somewhere, pretty boy?" Sam looked down at him. He grabbed him around the waist and lifted him up. Tony grabbed the boxers around his ankles and tossed them away.

"I'm sure I saw a more appropriate uniform somewhere around here," Tony said, looking around the room.

"I'll get it," Bucky volunteered. He ran out of the locker room.

Peter struggled to get free, but Sam grabbed both of his arms and pulled them tightly behind his back. "Just hold still, baby. Don't squirm so much. Not yet anyway."

"You're crazy. Let me go!"

"You better shut him up before someone comes running," Steve said.

Tony balled up the boxers in his hand. Peter screamed, but Tony was quick to stuff the material into his mouth. He kept shoving it in until he mouth was stretched full around it.

"Don't let him spit that out," Tony ordered. He walked away and Peter immediately spat, trying to dislodge the fabric. Sam kicks the back of his knee.

Tony returned with a roll of packing tape. Peter screamed around the boxers in his mouth. Tony's grin was cruel as he wrapped the tape not only around his mouth, but all the way around his head, looping it twice and packing it tight. Peter couldn't move his mouth at all. Tony bit the side of the tape and ripped the end off. His hands smoothed over it to stick it down.

"There. Quiet as a mouse."

"Got it!" Bucky came running back holding red and gold fabric. Peter screamed under the gag, but the other boy only grinned. "Well if Peter doesn't have any complaints, I say we dress him up."

The four of them manhandled him, getting the skirt around his legs and up to his waist. He almost got free as they struggled to get his arms into the sleeves of the top. Then he was dressed and once again helplessly restrained.

"Isn't that cute," Tony commented.

"Wouldn't that be a fun surprise when you're looking up his skirt," Steve said as he flipped up the front of the skirt. Peter kicked at him.

"Careful, gorgeous, I wouldn't piss that one off," Bucky said. "He only looks calm on the outside."

"Why isn't he tied up yet?" Steve said. He looked around until he spotted something tucked in a corner. "Get him over the bench. I know what to do with him." He and Bucky walked away while Sam dragged him across the room. He pushed him down over the bench.

Peter struggled, but Sam pinned his legs pulling his ankles up to his hips and held him still. Tony grabbed his forearms and held him down. Peter glared up at him. He screamed behind the gag, but it was fruitless.

"Don't be so dramatic, Petey," Tony sighed. "We're just trying to help you. You're clearly a little bit confused. See, cheerleading is a girl sport. If you're gonna do it, do it right."

"If you're gonna act like a girl, then you gotta act like a girl," Sam added. He stared down at him like he was a piece of meat.

Fresh panic rushed through him. Peter wasn't sure what that meant, but he could guess and none of his guesses were anything good. Struggling continued to get him nowhere so he rested, hoping an opportunity would come along.

Steve and Bucky returned. Each of them held a couple of plastic jump ropes. "This should do it."

"Perfect," Tony said. He dragged Peter down the bench to get his wrist aligned with the leg of the bench. Bucky tied it tight. Then they tied the other. His ankles were tied together under the bench, then the rope was pulled up and around to circle his waist, forcing his knees to bend and leave his legs wide open. The skirt was hiked up, covering nothing now, it's only purpose to humiliate him. He couldn't do anything but cry.

"See, we're teaching you how to be a girl already." Tony brushed sweaty hair back from Peter's forehead.

"We're not done yet. Girls are good for something else, too," Bucky said. They all stared at him, eating him up, enjoying their little secret. Then Steve held up a hockey stick.

Peter thought at first they were going to hit him with it. Then Sam said, "Hang on. I have lube. It'll be way more fun if you can actually get it in there."

Peter fought against the jump ropes. Sam dug around in his locker for a second before returning with a half empty bottle of lube. Steve yanked it from his hand. "What, are you jacking off after practice?"

"Fuck you, Steve," he spat.

"Who wants to do the honors?" Steve asked the room.

Tony jumped up and grabbed the bottle. "I've been waiting for this." His friends laughed.

"Yeah, we know. You're fucking obsessed with the slut," Sam laughed.

"Fuck you," Tony said, but he was preoccupied with squeezing lube onto the edge of the hocky stick. He smeared it around with his hand and set the bottle aside. Peter stared up at him, pleading with his eyes. He struggled as Tony put a hand on his thigh and gripped the stick like a weapon. Bucky and Sam each grabbed one of his legs to stop his squirming. Then Tony was stuffing the object into his unprepared ass hole.

Peter sobbed and then screamed. It was more panic than pain, at least at first. The hockey stick was cold and hard. Harder than he thought possible. The odd shape of it felt like it was tearing him open. It felt so much bigger than it looked, as if he were shoving his fist inside him. Tony had no mercy for him, pushing the stick deeper and deeper, watching with fascination as it disappeared inside him. Peter pleaded, unsure what he was even saying, but he couldn't do anything but beg.

"Shut up," Steve growled. His palm struck the side of his face. Peter went silent, tears rolled down his cheeks. He took a deep breath through his nose only for him to break down into terrified whimpers.

"What a good girl," Tony praised. "Your pussy is just swallowing the stick right up. Bet that feels good doesn't it, sweetheart?"

Peter shook his head.

"You don't know how to treat a lady, Stark," Bucky accused. "They like it when you play with their tits." He hiked up Peter's stolen top until his nipples were exposed. Then he leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Peter whined. He squeezed his eyes shut. Bucky ran his tongue around it, flicking it, then finally released the little nub with an embarrassing pop.

"Damn," Tony mused. "He squeezes when you do that. Must feel good huh, Pete? You tryin to milk my hockey stick? It's not even a real cock. What a fucking whore." He drew the stick back and Peter let out a relieved breath only to scream again as he thrust it back in. He pushed in until he found resistance. Peter's stomach cramped in protest.

Tony laughed. "Think I found his colon."

Sam whistled. "That's a deep cunt."

"What else can we stuff in there? I always wanted to see how far you can stretch somebody." Tony looked around. "Someone grab me those baseballs."

Steve jumped up to grab what Tony asked for. He came back with a whole bag of them. Tony yanked the hockey stick out with two quick jerks. He grinned when Peter shrieked.

"He makes such a pretty pussy, doesn't he?"

"I'm just glad you thought to gag him," Bucky said. "Someone would have ruined our fun by now."

"I'm not sure there's anyone here. I saw the janitor head home when everyone else did. We're probably locked in," Sam said.

Bucky laughed. "Even better."

"At least we have something to entertain us," Tony said.

Steve picked up a baseball and held it up. "You think he's wet enough?"

"Let me check." Tony hooked a finger inside his abused hole and pulled it open. He spat inside him. "Looks wet to me."

They laughed while Steve pressed the ball against Peter's hole. It was rough and dry and way bigger than the hockey stick. Steve pushed relentlessly, forcing his hole to stretch around the ball. His legs trembled with the effort.

"I think he wants it. He's opening right up," Tony teased.

"I think he needs more lube," Steve said. Tony dutifully spat again on Tony's hole. Peter could feel the warm wetness as one of them smeared it around. Then the ball popped in. He thought it was just relief when that baseball filling up his ass made him moan. Then he realized it actually felt really good. He could feel tearing, an undeniable burning pain around his rim, but that ball was pressing up against something. And it felt really good.

"That's a good girl," Tony purred. "See, I told you he wanted it."

"Better give him some more then," Steve said as he offered Tony another baseball.

Tony spat on the ball and pressed it against Peter's hole. He stretched more easily this time, but the baseball already inside him didn't want to move. Tony pushed, forcing it deeper little by little. Peter struggled again to escape, but it was just as useless as before.

"Poor little thing," Bucky mocked. He looked down at him with pretend pity. "Does it hurt, sweetheart?"

Peter nodded his head, whimpering as the balls moved deeper.

"Good." Bucky grinned. Sam laughed. Peter shuttered as he realized Sam's dick was bulging out of his gym shorts. He couldn't see the others from where he laid. It was bad enough they were tormenting him like this. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to consider how much worse it could get. Then the second ball popped in. Peter moaned again. His cock jumped against his belly. Someone stroked it, just once and the touch was too dry but it made his soft cock start to thicken.

"Such a fucking slut, Peter. And here I was always defending you when Tony said it," Steve accused.

"I told you I can always tell," Tony said proudly. "Who wants the next one?"

Bucky was quick to take Steve's place next to Tony. He picked up a baseball and held it up for Peter to see. He tried to beg, to tell him it wouldn't fit, that he felt like he might die. Bucky just squeezed a gob of lube onto the ball and began to add it to the rest.

"What a gentleman," Tony teased.

"I always make sure my girls have a good time." Bucky rubbed Peter's thigh as he pushed the ball in. It was several minutes of straining before Peter felt his ass open up around the widest part. His stomach ached, starting to cramp once again. He cried fresh tears.

Bucky was strong and he wasn't taking no for an answer. The pain was awful as he slammed his palm against the ball until it finally went in. Peter thought he'd passed out because he felt as though he'd blinked and several minutes had passed. Or at least, he'd missed half of the conversation. Tony's hand was on his abdomen and he looked bewildered.

"Fucking feel it." He pressed his hand down and Peter groaned. It felt like there were rocks in his stomach. The other boys all gathered around, pushing and prodding at his belly.

"Holy shit," Sam laughed. "You fucking knocked him up."

Dizziness washed over him. Peter laid his head down against the bench and closed his eyes. This wasn't ending until they wanted it to. Fighting wasn't getting him anywhere and neither was begging. All he could do was breathe.

"What are you going into shock? That seems pretty dramatic, Pete." Someone slapped his face and Peter opened his eyes to see Bucky bending over his head. He grabbed a fist full of his hair and pulled his head up. "Watch. Sam's gonna stuff ball number four in you. Do you think it's gonna fit?"

"No!" Peter tried to scream. "Please don't!" He looked at Sam, eyes wet and pleading. There was no mercy in the face staring back at him. Peter felt the baseballs inside him shift around as they tried to make room in his already crowded guts. He couldn't help but scream. Yet it was no different from the others.

He'd gotten used to the ripped feeling. Now there was just full, stretched, and the tingling of the baseballs pressed snuggly against what he was sure was his prostate. He cock twitched every time the balls moved now. He gave in, letting himself enjoy whatever pleasure he could get. And when Sam managed to get that fourth ball into him, he came.

They were laughing, mocking him. Shame and humiliation burned throughout his whole body.

"What a good girl," Bucky cooed, stroking his hair.

"I think you'd better keep the skirt from now on, Pete," Tony teased. "It definitely suits you."

Sam had his hand in his shorts, openly rubbing his dick. The others were hard too, Peter could tell.

"Hey, I found another one!" Steve called. He returned to the group holding up another baseball.

"There's no way," Bucky said.

"Yeah there is! We just need to make room," Tony said. He picked up the hockey still from the floor and stood between Peter's open legs. Peter watched, enraptured with fear. Tony placed the end of the stick against Peter's hole. How he'd even managed to close around that last ball he didn't know, but once again his ass was forced open around the hard stick. Then it pushed inside.

Tony leaned his weight into, slowly pushing it in, allowing no resistance even as Peter's muscles spasmed in rejection. He expected his stomach to swell up like a balloon, yet the objects inside him weren't nearly as big as they felt.

"I can't believe there's more room in there," Sam said in genuine awe. They were all watching, eyes dark, humor forgotten. Steve was rubbing himself through his shorts now too.

"There we go. Plenty of room," Tony declared. Having shoved the baseballs as deep as they would go. He pulled the stick from Peter's ass, ignoring his whimpers, and picked up the fifth ball. Then he held Peter by the hip and pushed it in.

He felt delirious. His brain was cooked, melting out of his ears, eyes rolled back into his head. His wrists twisted around in the jump ropes searching desperately for a way out. When his senses returned, the first thing he noticed was the sound of skin against skin. He opened his eyes to see all four of them, jerking themselves now, looking at what they'd done.

"Look at that bulge," Tony moaned. He pressed his fingers against Peter's belly again. He squealed with pain. It was visible now. His lower stomach had an obvious hump where the baseballs were down in his gut.

"Fuck," Sam swore. He stopped and held the base of his cock. "We shouldn't let a good hole go to waste, but it's all stretched out."

"No way, it's perfect," Tony mused.

"Not once he pushes out all those balls."

"Who said anything about taking them out?" Tony argued. "No one wants loose pussy. Just use it like it is. It's not like he can't take it."

"Let's just make a little room." Bucky reached between Peter's legs. At first, his hole didn't want to let the baseball go. He forced the opening to stretch around his finger and coaxed the ball free. "Shouldn't let this go to waste either."

"What are you going to do with it?"

Bucky grinned. He walked along the bench to stand by Peter's head. "Somebody help me with this tape."

Tony came running. He eagerly ripped the tape off and unwrapped it from Peter's head. It pulled out hair and a layer of his skin as it went. He pulled the boxers from Peter's mouth.

Peter relaxed his jaw and swallowed. He choked at the dryness in his mouth.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. This will help," Bucky said. Then he stuffed the baseball into his mouth. It butted against his teeth, but Tony grabbed his jaw and stopped him from closing his mouth. Peter had no choice but to open as wide as he could and let Bucky stuff the ball behind his teeth. Peter gagged and shook his head. Only for Tony to stick the tape back in place, wrapping it around again. Even without the same stickiness, there was no dislodging the ball without his hands. Peter sobbed pitifully. Already his jaw ached. But Bucky right, his mouth wasn't dry anymore. Not with how he was all but drowning in drool.

Distracted by what was happening with his mouth. He didn't realize what was happening between his legs.

Sam knelt at the end of the bench, holding his hip with one hand and his cock in the other. Peter whimpered as he rubbed it against his hole.

"Are you making love to him or what? We all want a turn, Wilson," Steve complained.

"Yeah yeah. Shut the fuck up," Sam grumbled. Then he started to push in. Peter's noises were muffled behind the baseball in his mouth, but his body still trembled. Not that any of them cared about his protests.

Sam pushed in until his hips were flush with Peter's ass. Then he fucked him. The baseballs moved with his cock, rolling back and forth. It felt like being fucked with a telephone pole and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to survive. All he could do was hold on and try not to pass out. Then Sam came inside. It felt warm and sticky and disgusting. Somehow it made him feel more full.

Sam pulled out with a satisfied moan. "I can't say it feels good in there, but it does feel like nothing else."

Tony shoved him aside. "We'll see about that." He yanked the ropes around Peter's ankles until they came loose so he could lift up his hips. The angle brought fresh pain and cramping. Then Tony stuffed his cock inside, fucking into him like he was trying to get deeper than even the baseballs could.

Peter whimpered with every thrust of his hips as the balls rattled around and Tony's dick stretched him out. Then he came, too. Adding to the sticky mess.

Steve took his place, holding his weight in his arms to fuck him even harder as if they were in competition to see who could break him in half. Peter's teeth dug into the baseball. His body slid up and down the bench. Then Steve came too.

"Don't spill that," he said as he passed him to Bucky like the communal cum sock.

Bucky smirked down at him as he slowly pushed his way in, watching him shake as the slow friction forced him to feel every inch. "You should see yourself, sweetheart. You barely look human."

Peter whimpered as he moved his hips slowly, purposefully, humiliating him all over again as he held his gaze. With less pain and more friction, his cock took an interest again. Peter whined and turned his face away. Someone slapped him. Then Steve was there holding his head in place, forcing him to look up at Bucky as he fucked him. Tony wrapped his hand around his cock, grinning viciously as he stroked him. Sam knelt beside the bench. His hand ran over Peter's chest only to find a nipple to tease. It was hell and there was no escape, but his orgasm was building. He tried to close his eyes, but Steve slapped him again. He thought maybe he would be saved when Bucky's control started to slip, fucking into him faster, less methodically, but Tony picked up the pace, too. Sam pinched and plucked his nipples. And screaming around the baseball gag, Peter came and he thought it might never stop. He felt his own cum splatter on his face. Most of it landed on the gag, but he felt a heavy glob land right in his hair. The pleasure only receded as Bucky was pulling his cock out, dripping with lube and a mix of everyone's cum.

They all stood around him, admiring the mess they'd made.

"Well," Steve started. "Practice is over, guys."

They all chuckled at his joke. Sam picked up Peter's shorts from the floor and cleaned himself off with them before offering them to Bucky.

"Wait. One last touch." Tony went to Peter's still open locker and returned with his red and gold pom poms. "So you think about us at practice." He stuffed one into his abused hole, handle first, pushing as deep as it would go. Peter felt the rough edges of the fringe as they were shoved inside. The handle tapped against the baseballs inside him. Peter groaned miserably as Tony tried to force it in deeper. When he was sure it wasn't going any further, he stuck the next one beside it and pushed that in just as deep.

"Look at that. A cheerleader with a pom pom tail. That'll be something for the next pep rally," Steve said.

"We're just full of creative ideas," Bucky agreed. "The whole team should be sticking those things up their asses instead. It'll make the same old routines a lot more bearable."

"We should get going. It's getting late," Sam suggested.

"Yeah, let's get out of here," Steve agreed.

"We can't leave him like that all night," Bucky pointed out.

"Eh, untie his hands. He'll figure out the rest," Tony said. He walked over to the bench and bent down. As he worked the jump ropes loose around his wrists, he bent and kissed Peter's forehead.

"It's cool if I tell all the guys who popped your cherry right?" he said, mockingly. "You're gonna love it when they're passing you around the whole school. But I'll be here when you want to recreate your first time."

Home is where the heart is, that’s what Steve was told when he was young.

And maybe it’s messy. Or maybe Clint forget to clean the coffee pot for one reason or another. Or Tony fell asleep on the couch and Steve has to carry him to a bed so his back doesn’t ache. Or Natasha and Bucky messed up cooking lunch or dinner or breakfast.

It’s still home.

Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, one kitchen, and a couple other things Tony insisted on needing. Steve would’ve been happy with the bare minimum, but maybe that’s his childhood speaking. He’s pretty sure he would’ve been happy with anything so long as he had his four by his side.

Tony, with his at times odd mannerisms.

Clint, at his best or at his worst.

Natasha, the second woman he’s loved.

And Bucky, who he’s had by his side since day one.

So long as they’re with him, it’s easy to live.

Easy to bask in the warm glow of catching a glance of all four of them simply relaxing with each other in the living room. Splayed and tangled on a pull out couch Clint had found in a free pile with Natasha. Speaking quietly and comfortably amongst each other.

“Room for one more?”

They all shuffle around until Steve can comfortably fit amidst the tangle.

Definitely home. Soft, comfortable, he’s not sure what else he could want. It’s hard to even try and imagine anything other than this.

Just the five of them. Happy, for once, relaxed and casual. Stress off of their shoulders. It’s nice watching them become less tense as the months pass and they can settle into this twist of domesticity.

You spot them as they enter the main ballroom. Your three strapping men, color coordinated and cutting intimidating frames in their suit choices. Thank the goddess you had a good hold on the mic as you waited for your cue to join Sy in singing White Christmas, or you might have literally swooned in front of this mass of party goers.

You start your verse as you watch them make their way over to the bar where the team, plus one Sharon Carter, have gathered. Thankfully tonight’s event is Jane Foster free, so it should be a good night with you, Sy and the Chanti’s house band entertaining Tony’s rich friends and employees before enjoying some much needed time with your men.

You can't help but feel festive in your short red dress, studded red fishnets and nude pumps. You’ve kept your makeup simple with a nude lip and a smokey eye. Your hair down and in its natural state. Sy made a comment when picking you up that you looked like Santa’s little Siren. Seems appropriate if you do say so yourself.

Per usual you notice Sharon being a bit too chummy with your Captain. The woman just can’t help herself. You know all about the “kiss” when they were trying to save your beloved Bucky. But according to Steve the reason it never went further was because there was no spark when their lips touched. And he tried giving her a chance, chalking the lack of spark up to the stress of the situation, but she was way too into his status and power. So he ended things before it made it any further than a couple dates and a subpar makeout session.

What is it with these prude ass women that hang around these strong ass people? Sharon, like Jane, thinks your quad is ridiculous and you don't need that many men. Especially when you added Steve in. 

“He should be upholding traditional values as he’s America's golden boy. Not flaunting such an alternative lifestyle. Hell if he was gay it would be easier than this bullshit. Why on Earth would you want to willingly share a woman with two other men. Not to mention one of those men is a God and the other a murderer.”

Let's not forget what she also stated in that little rant of hers, when she was unaware you could hear her perfectly clear from your spot in the common room. “I just don’t understand what he sees in her. Who stays in a band with someone they used to be fuck buddies with? It’s just tacky and sad. A man that powerful should be with someone who is only devoted to him and can boost his image, not damage it. ” 

I’ll show her tacky. Lord knows I'm certainly not above being petty. I’ve been behaving for far too long. Time to put these Siren skills to use. What good are they to have if you can’t fuck with uppity bitches using them.