john walker refuses to finish inside you, always. it doesn’t matter if you’re on birth control, have an iud, or even if you’re infertile. he won’t do it.

it’s not about not wanting children. not exactly. it's a deep, gnawing, and relentless fear. he already has a child. a son. and he knows, with a hollow kind of shame, that he’s failed him.

his ex-wife, olivia, still doesn’t trust him when it comes to parenting. he barely sees his son. he’s more of a ghost than a father.

so even if he could be better this time, be present, be whole, he can’t let it happen. he can’t create new life knowing how much he botched the first. to him, it wouldn’t be redemption. it would be betrayal.

bob reynolds, on the other hand, can’t help himself — he has to finish inside you. it’s compulsive, primal. he needs to be buried in you, tied to you, claimed by you in some twisted, desperate way that he doesn't even try to explain.

birth control or not, he doesn’t care. that part doesn’t register. it’s not about children; it never was.

like john, he wants nothing to do with fatherhood. the idea of passing on his father’s violence, his own broken wiring, terrifies him. he knows what kind of damage lives in his blood.

but none of that matters in the moment. what matters is you. full of him, leaking from him, marked by him. he needs to see it spill out, just to push it back in with his fingers, like he’s trying to make it permanent. like he’s trying to root himself inside you and never leave.

which is why john loves watching bob come inside you instead.

he’s seated beside you, one hand gently combing through your sweat-damp hair, the other lazily stroking his cock. while bob is on top of you, rutting into you with a desperate, primal need.

you’re looking up at john, eyes half-lidded, mouth parted, a thin trail of drool slipping from the corner of your lips. soft, mindless moans spill out of you. bob’s face is buried in your neck, breath hitching, fingers bruising your hips as he fucks you deeper, cock twitching inside.

“n-need t’come,” bob mumbles, lifting his head to look at John, voice unsteady, on the verge.

john’s hand slips from your hair and grips bob’s instead, firmly. “ask her, bobby.”

bob lets out a needy whine, so close, so undone. but he knows the rules. he has to be good. he wants to be good.

“please — fuck — please, momma,” he stammers, turning his eyes to you. “been s’good... lemme come. please.”

you nod, barely there. too fucked-out to speak. you’ve come three times already. you don’t need another. you just want to feel.

bob’s rhythm falters. his hips stutter, and then he’s coming, hard. his hands clamped on your waist as he spills inside you, filling you, shaking as he gasps through it. painting your walls like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.

john, still beside you, mutters low praise meant for both of you, his voice thick with heat and approval. “doin' such a good job, baby... letting him come inside you like that.”, “good boy, bobby. gonna make her a real momma.” and “see that, sweetheart? gonna give you a swollen belly... full tits... all for him.”

bob barely hears it. he’s floating, dazed, hands still locked on your hips even as his grip starts to ease. he doesn’t move, doesn’t pull out, not even when he softens inside you. he just stays there, like leaving would undo something sacred.

only when john finally tells him, “c'mon, baby,” does bob obey, albeit slowly and reluctantly. he watches, mesmerised, as his cum slips out of you in a slow, heavy trail. it’s about to drip onto the mattress.

he doesn’t let it.

in a flash, two fingers slide back inside you, pushing it deep, fucking it back in with a kind of reverent desperation.

“gonna make you a real momma,” he murmurs, eyes locked on the mess he’s burying inside you, fingers still working it deeper, deeper.

john watches all of it with a crooked smirk, his eyes flicking from your overstimulated face — twitching, tightening — to bob’s unwavering hand. he doesn’t intervene. not yet. even when he should have stopped, bob doesn’t. he keeps going, caught in something too raw to name.

john finally reaches out, wraps his hand around bob’s wrist, and eases his fingers out of you slowly but firmly.

he knows you’re on birth control.

"They're planning something," Ava had said, apropos of nothing. Just walked up to you in the gym and proverbially laid it on the table like a cat would drop a dead bird at your feet. There was no question who she was talking about, so Ava didn't even waste her time saying their names. "Overheard their conversation in the kitchen this morning. And it involves you."

"Do I want to know?" you'd asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oh, you most definitely did.

Turns out, Ava didn't overhear some romantic date plan or a surprise weekend getaway; she overheard plans to forcibly dominate you. It was consensual, of course. You'd discussed rules and boundaries with John and Bob, both separately then together after the three of you had started your exploration of bedroom possibilities as a single unit. And while the idea of both of your boyfriends overpowering you and ravishing you was extremely tempting…so was the idea of flipping the script on them.

According to Ava, the plan was going to be carried out during your weekly threeway movie date…which just so happened to be tonight. It didn't leave you a lot of time to work with, but fortunately for you, John was very good at pissing people off. Which you could use to your advantage.

The next disgruntled party was, of course, Bucky. Even though he and your boyfriend's relationship had calmed significantly since their…rocky introduction, Bucky wasn't exactly the president of the John Walker fan club. So, when you presented him with the opportunity to thwart the other super soldier, Bucky readily agreed.

"Make sure it's worth the strings I pulled to get 'em," he said eying you with playful suspicion. You made grabby hands at him, and he actually cracked a bit of a smile.

"What kind of strings?" you asked as he passed over a medium-sized silver briefcase. Laying it on a nearby table, you flipped up the clasps and attempted to open the case. Unfortunately, your plan was temporarily foiled by the lock. You shot Bucky a look, extending your hand as he fished the keys out of his back pocket and tossed them to you.

A moment later, the case was open, revealing a thick pair of manacles - ones strong enough to hold even a super soldier. Unlike regular handcuffs, these didn't have a chain in the middle. That gave too much room for movement and were far too easy to snap no matter how reinforced they were. Instead, this set had a thick block of metal connecting the cuffs, forcing the wearer's hands to stay closer together and better impeded any potential escape attempt. Unlike most shackles, these were lined with a soft, black fabric and seemed to have some foam added for comfort.

"The kind where my contact is convinced they're for my personal use. Never gonna be able to look that man in the eye again." When you snorted at his words, Bucky fixed you with a glare, but there was no real heat behind it.

Satisfied, you closed the case and turned back to your woefully besmirched teammate. "Don't worry. I'll make sure John knows that you aided in his downfall."

The next injured party was Yelena. You desperately needed to go shopping for a specific item of clothing, and you needed backup. Sure, you could go alone, but plotting was so much better with a friend. As were the food court soft pretzels.

But, when you originally asked Yelena, she said she was busy. Busy looked an awful lot like sitting in the main living room, idly flipping through a tactical gear catalog that had come in the mail and half-watching some particularly trashy reality television.

Her schedule miraculously cleared up when you name-dropped your boyfriend and hinted at you plotting against him. Turns out, Yelena wasn't a big fan of people using her equipment without her permission. And she actively hated when said equipment was damaged from said person spilling pre-workout all over it. Needless to say, Yelena would have preferred to shove one of her short-circuited batons up John's ass, but she'd make do with aiding your scheme.

The soft pretzels also helped.

"What are we looking for again?" Yelena asked, flipping through hangers until she found something low cut in your size. She pulled it out and held it up for inspection.

You shook your head, and she put it back on the rack, continuing the search. "It needs to be low cut enough to draw Bob's attention but casual enough that it doesn't look like I'm trying to dress up."

"What's wrong with dressing up?" Yelena grumbled as you shook your head at another top, this one a bright cerulean. Another one far too low cut. Too obvious.

"Our movie dates are always casual. Like, 'sometimes I wear pajamas' level casual. It would attract notice if I dressed up. John would know something's up."

Yelena cocked an eyebrow at you. "You really think he'd get suspicious? If you wore a slutty little 'fuck me' dress, I'm not sure he'd be doing much thinking at all."

You shrugged. "Fair. But it isn't part of the plan to work John up. Just Bob." You pulled out a sweater that was just the right amount of casual with a neckline just low enough to draw Bob's gaze. Unfortunately, it was a deep maroon color. With a sigh, you returned it to the rack.

"What was wrong with that one?" Yelena asked, her tone a little on the exasperated side.

"Wrong color," you muttered, taking a step to another rack of clothes. "I need something a stain would show up on."

Stopping dead in her tracks, Yelena turned to fix you with a glower. "You're looking for a new top that you're planning on ruining," she deadpanned. She wasn't asking, just stating facts as if she couldn't believe them.

"Well, I won't be ruining it, not if I can pop it in the wash somewhat quickly."

Yelena stared at you, completely unblinking. It was the kind of look that would cause even the most stubborn person (i.e. John or Bucky) to back down from an argument. Or force a confession out of a captured enemy combatant. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, visibly uncomfortable.

"Something tells me that's going to be the last thing on your mind."

Having no argument for that, you picked up the red sweater again and put it over your arm. "I'll try it on."

"That's all I ask." Pacified, Yelena returned to the hunt, flipping through hangers again.

You managed to find the perfect top: a heather grey sweater cozy enough to wear around the Watchtower that also hugged your breasts enough to hold Bob's attention. And after a pit stop at another store Yelena suggested and some food court junk food (including one too many soft pretzels courtesy of Yelena's expert-level peer pressuring), your plan was ready to commence.

Naturally, John showed up first. Even without recognizing his jaunty knock, you knew he would be the one standing there when you opened the door. After all, it was precisely 7 o'clock. Not a minute before or after. And, as always, he had a large bowl of freshly buttered popcorn in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

John was always a little less casual than you and Bob, wearing a dark blue flannel neatly tucked into a pair of boot cut jeans, complete with a large silver belt buckle. He'd most likely been wearing boots but had the decency to toe them off outside the door, knowing you didn't allow shoes in your quarters. The second those bright, sky blue eyes locked on yours, he fixed you with a wide smile, one that always made your heart flutter.

Leaning down, John kissed your temple, mumbling, "Evenin', pretty lady," because he knew it would make you roll your eyes at him. Which you did.

Taking the bowl of popcorn from his hands, you walked over and placed it on the coffee table next to the glasses you'd already brought out. You didn't see John's eyes travel down your body, eying your ass in the loose, comfortable skirt you wore, but you definitely noticed when you turned back around and caught his gaze on your legs. He didn't even try to hide his lecherous gaze, just quirking up his lips when you caught him staring.

"John," you playfully admonished. Coming back over to where he stood stock still inside the doorway, you gave him a light shove, one that didn't even budge him. It was ridiculous how hot that was. The man didn't move, and it made you wet. You knew that if you really tried, braced your hands on his arms and shoved, John might be forced to move back a little. And those same arms could pick you up like you weighed nothing and throw you over his shoulder. Judging by the look on his face, John was tempted to do just that. Instead, his free hand found your hip like it was magnetized, and his other arm wrapped around you, pulling you neatly against his chest.

"John," you said again but with a warning tone in your voice, managing to keep your words steady. If he wasn't careful, John was apt to ruin his own plan, let alone yours.

"Hmm?" he hummed, leaning down to start planting slow, closed-mouth kisses along your jaw. Each subsequent brush of his lips made it harder and harder to resist turning your head and seeking out another kiss. A deeper one.

"Remember the rule of movie night - no making out," you said, just as much to yourself as to John.

That was a rule you'd had to make early on in your weekly movie dates. Otherwise, you ended up finding yourself topless and straddling one of your boyfriends barely halfway through the movie. Or, like one particularly fun night, sitting between them with your hands on their cocks, slowly stroking them to completion while you happily watched Legally Blonde. While that was a fantastic night, you'd had to re-watch the movie the next week because neither man remembered a damn thing about it. So you'd all (reluctantly) agreed - movie first, sexy times after. And for the most part, it worked.

"It's not making out if I get on my knees and stick my head under your skirt while you watch the movie," John practically growled, starting to move his kisses down your neck. You inhaled sharply at his words, nails biting into his arms. He smiled against your skin, pleased at your reaction.

For a split second, you were tempted to say fuck it to your carefully crafted plan and let John's mouth wander where it wanted.

Fortunately, there was a tentative knock at the door that broke the spell his lips had cast on you, startling you out of John's embrace. He tried to pull you back in, but the moment was gone.

"Bob's here," you reminded, moving out of John's quickly encroaching arms and trying to take a step past him. He let you move by him unimpeded, but strong arms encircled your waist from behind as you reached out to grasp the doorknob. You allowed it - for now.

Opening the door revealed the missing element of your trio - Bob. He was dressed exactly how you expected - in a fresh pair of loose grey sweatpants and his favorite blue hoodie, the wrists worn from Bob absentmindedly picking at and rubbing the fabric. He held a bottle of sparkling juice in one hand and a bag full of snacks in the other, the same as he always did on movie night.

By the look on his face, Bob almost immediately noticed John plastered to your back. Before he could make a snarky comment, however, his gaze flitted down to your neckline. The double take he did was almost comical, eyes bulging like you'd opened the door in the nude.

Bob was the biggest breast man you'd ever met. He was absolutely obsessed with yours, always working to get your top off as quickly as possible. Sometimes he was so impatient he didn't even take off your bra. He'd just pull down the cups, groaning like he'd found home as he latched onto your nipples. On more than one occasion, he'd fallen asleep with his mouth on one and his hand on the other, fully splayed across you. And if you tried to move, his limbs would tighten to keep you in place. And, judging from the look on his face and how his fingers were twitching, you'd picked the right top. Thank you, Yelena.

"You okay there, Bobby?" John asked with a smirk. He saw exactly where Bob's eyes went and followed them himself, peering down at the very tops of your breasts that pressed against the grey fabric. It was subtle, a peak of cleavage that hinted at what lay underneath, hugging your breasts tightly enough to entice without making it look like you were bursting out of your blouse. "Mmm, I see why he's so distracted. You tryin' to kill us, baby? Wearin' that cute little skirt with your legs showin' and that top?"

Even though your outfit was hardly skimpy, you'd once again underestimated just how horny your boyfriends were, especially when they egged each other on. You'd just have to make due.

You scoffed. "You would say that if I was wearing a crusty hoodie and a pair of old granny panties."

From the flash in Bob's eyes, 'panties,' granny or otherwise, was the wrong word to say.

"Okay, down boys," you said with a shaky laugh, reaching forward and taking the bottle of sparkling juice out of Bob's hands. You did your best not to sway your hips as you walked over to the couch, but you could feel their eyes on you anyway.

When you didn't hear any footsteps behind you, you turned around with your arms crossed just below your chest. Bob's eyes raised from where he'd been watching your ass but not high enough to look you in the face like John was.

"Robeeert," you admonished, drawing the 'e' in his name out with a warning tone in your voice. His eyes snapped up to yours, head jerking like a stretched rubber band that had just been released. Covering your mouth with your hand, you fought down a laugh.

"C'mon, it's movie night." Settling in the middle of the couch, you patted the seats next to you welcomingly. "Plus, I could use some wine," you added, gesturing at the bottle in John's hand. That finally propelled him into motion.

The sexual tension lessened to a quiet hum of anticipation as everyone prepped for the night ahead, falling into a familiar rhythmic pattern. John poured the glasses - wine for you and him, the sparkling juice for Bob - while Bob worked on laying out various snacks, sorting them to put them in easy reach.

When everything was ready, John dimmed the lights as you pulled up the movie of the week, Lethal Weapon. It was John's choice, and neither you nor Bob were surprised at his pick. His love of buddy cop movies was well documented between the three of you at this point, just like Bob's love of stoner comedies and your love of what you considered classic romcoms.

All three of you settled in, Bob resting his head on your shoulder and John with his arm around your waist, as the opening credits started to roll. They were good, you'd give them that. If you weren't looking for it, you never would have noticed the way John reached down to check that the rope and handcuffs he'd placed below his seat cushion were still in position. It just looked like he was straightening out the leg of his jeans. And you'd never have noticed the questioning look Bob shot John and the latter's slow nod of confirmation if you hadn't been watching them sharply in your peripheral vision.

You slowly gathered the ingredients for your plan to work - five minutes in, you snagged the bowl of popcorn, placing it in your lap. That was usually how it went anyway, making the popcorn equally accessible for everyone. A few more minutes after that, you leaned forward to grab your wine. Bob lifted his head, letting you get the glass and putting it back on your shoulder as you settled back down. Lightly sipping on your wine, you waited for the right moment.

That moment came more quickly than expected when Bob reached for a box of candy on the table. You had to time this perfectly. For your plan to work, you needed what was going to happen to be equally your fault and Bob's.

"Bob, baby, can you get me my candy, too?" you asked innocently.

Wordlessly, he obeyed. If there was one thing that was always true about Bob Reynolds, it was that he aimed to please. And that went doubly so in your relationship. He was the kind of man that, if you asked for it, would figure out a way to pluck the stars from the sky for you. So naturally, Bob immediately forgot about his own candy and prioritized your request.

You angled your body to face him, your arm positioned just right so that, when Bob sat back up, his elbow knocked the wine glass in your hand, spilling it all over your top, down your chest, and directly into the bowl of popcorn.

The room went completely still, all three of you staring in shock at your ruined top, a literal splash of deep scarlet spreading on your grey sweater. It was as if you all were temporarily frozen in time. The only signs of life were the sounds of the TV playing with no one watching it and the slow seep of wine bleeding further into your clothes. That unnatural stillness lasted for a few beats before you all snapped into motion, first John, then Bob, and finally you.

John grabbed the bowl of wine-soaked popcorn out of your lap, placing it square in the middle of the coffee table to prevent it being knocked over. Bob took the glass from your hand and scooted the coffee table over to give you more room. You stood up, turning around to make sure that no wine had dripped onto your couch, breathing a sigh of relief at the unsullied seat.

John took charge immediately. It was kind of adorable, seeing him treating a simple spill like a battlefield, instantly strategizing a plan of attack and commanding his soldiers. It was exactly what Bob needed. Instead of getting in his head and feeling like he'd ruined the night (and your shirt), John made him feel useful.

As they both dabbed at your clothing with the paper towels Bob fetched from the main kitchen, you decided to cut to the chase. Taking a step back, you ignored the men's confused reactions, grabbing the hem of your sweater and tugging it over your head. You had to bite back a wicked smile at the wide-eyed looks on their faces, staring at you like their brains were buffering.

Bob at least had the decency to look away. He seemed to understand that you needed to change your outfit and was doing his best to not openly stare at your chest. But the flush climbing his neck betrayed his reaction.

John, on the other hand, grinned at you wolfishly. "If I knew all I had to do to get you naked was spill some wine on you, I'd've brought more than one bottle."

You gave him an exaggerated roll of your eyes before looking down at your wine-covered chest. The red liquid had gotten on your bra as well, but, with the tension that had been permeating the room all night, taking that off as well would open the floodgates. Instead, you touched your skin, making a face at the stickiness that lingered on your hand. You could feel your boyfriends' eyes on you, greedily drinking in the sight of you half naked. Now was the perfect time to implement phase two before John managed to remember about his own plan and that pair of handcuffs under the couch cushions.

"I think I'm going to have to take a quick shower," you said, keeping your voice casual like you didn't know exactly what that imagery would do to your already wound up boyfriends. You didn't miss the way Bob licked his lips or how John took a step closer to you.

"Well, you know…" John started, playfully drawing his words out like he was coming up with some brilliant idea. His eyes had a mischievous light in them that you knew all too well - you were mere seconds away from him doing something like grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. "We could always -"

"Here." Thrusting your hand out in front of you, you deposited your soiled sweater in the hand John brought up to touch you. He blinked, taken aback. But his fingers obediently clenched around the fabric as you let go of it.

"Why are you -"

"Would you mind throwing that in the wash?" you asked, making sure to look up at him from under your lashes. "And maybe make us some more popcorn? That way we can all be ready to start the movie over after I get cleaned off?"

When John hesitated, clearly torn between being helpful and being lecherous, you pouted at him, jutting out your lower lip just a little. For extra ammo, you wrapped your arms around your torso seemingly for warmth but in reality it was so you could subtly press your breasts together, exaggerating your cleavage.

"Please?" you asked sweetly, batting your lashes at him.

"Okay, okay," John grumbled. Despite his grouching, he couldn't quite hide his smile when you stood up on your toes to press a grateful (but chaste) kiss to his lips.

You wasted no time once you'd stepped into the bathroom. For your plan to work, you needed to be quick. Unfortunately, your room was fairly close to the kitchen. That combined with John being super particular and refusing to use anything but an extra-speedy air popper on his popcorn meant that, normally, you'd only have about five minutes to pull this off. But the laundry room was on another floor, giving you a few extra precious minutes, ones you were determined not to waste.

After shedding your clothes, you ran the shower to maintain your ruse, but you didn't step inside. Instead, you grabbed a washcloth, adding a small drop of soap and quickly cleaning and rinsing your wine-sticky chest. Then you broke out your secret weapon.

Right now, it just looked like a little bundle of delicate black fabric pressed flat underneath the stacked towels you stashed it under. It was soft to the touch as you slipped it over your shoulders, the silky material caressing your skin as you smoothed it down your body, gently coaxing the chemise over your hips. The stockings came next, sliding on easily and coming to rest mid-thigh. The elastic on the lacy hem was probably enough to keep them on, but you used the garter straps dangling from the bottom of the chemise to fully secure them. There was something that appealed to you about the tug when you shifted, the straps pulling lightly at the stockings. It was like you were secured into the entire outfit, stockings included, a kind of self-inflicted bondage that sent a pulse of warmth through you.

Looking in the mirror, you were slightly caught off guard by your own reflection. Sure, you'd tried it on in the store, but those florescent yellow light fixtures did no one any favors. Here, under the warm glow of your bathroom lights, you were a vision in lace and satin. The fabric clung to you, each breath making your breasts lift, straining against the nearly sheer material. There was just enough opacity on the lace cups to blur, merely hinting at the tantalizing skin that laid underneath. Your eyes followed the light boning that stretched down the front, helping the material press flat against your body while still maintaining the structure of the little dress. Most of the fabric was opaque except for two lace panels down the side, making your silhouette look more sleek while accentuating your hips.

Turning around in the mirror, you couldn't help but grin at yourself. The entire back of the dress was made of the see-through fabric, showcasing the elegant curve of your back and the plush softness of your ass. Sure, the outfit came with a little lacy thong, but those wouldn't be on for long anyway. Might as well save your boyfriends the effort of removing them.

Next, you reached under the sink, pulling out a mesh bag you'd hidden earlier. Carefully, you lined the contents up on the bathroom counter, mentally triple checking that you had everything.

Now, it was time to implement phase three of your plan. You cracked open the bathroom door and positioned yourself on the opposite side of it, closer to the shower.

Cupping a hand to your mouth to amplify the sound, you called out for your first victim.

"Bob! I need your help!"

You pressed your ear to the door, heart pounding in your chest, as you strained your ears for any subsequent noises - an answering voice, a creak of the bedroom door, or the sound of heavy footsteps. There was a muffled murmur but no further movement. So you called out again.

"Bob! I need you to grab my shampoo! Please!"

There were some distinct rustling noises but nothing definitive. With a sigh, you braced yourself, using your diaphragm to really shout.

"BOB! C'MERE!"

You didn't have to wait long before the bedroom door opened, and Bob shuffled his way over to the bathroom. Ever polite, he hovered outside the door.

"Did you call for me?" Bob asked from the other side.

You cupped your hand to your mouth again, this time angling it away from the door, toward the shower to make it sound like your voice was coming from there.

"Yes! Could you grab my shampoo for me? It's in the cabinet." You paused, then grinned mischievously to yourself before continuing, "I'd get it, but I'm soaking wet."

Your words had the intended effect. "Jesus," you heard Bob mutter to himself, groaning at the imagery you'd conjured for him. You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

"Coming, angel!" he said louder for you to hear, pushing the door open and stepping in. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the items you'd laid out on the counter.

"What the…" Before Bob could turn, you closed the door behind him, leaning against it to block the way out.

Bob started, whipping around. He already looked surprised, but his eyes widened further and his lips parted as he took in your change of wardrobe. His eyes traveled up your stockinged legs, over the garter straps, and followed the lines of the chemise before stopping at the semi-transparent fabric just barely covering your chest. You could practically feel his gaze on your breasts like a physical caress, your nipples hardening under his intense scrutiny. You were sure he could just see the peaks through the fabric.

Finally, Bob managed to wrench his eyes away from your chemise. He was flushed and dazed, chest visibly rising and falling as he took in air like he couldn't quite catch his breath. There was a wildness in his gaze, a mix of sudden arousal and sheer confusion, that sent a wave of heat through your body.

"Baby," Bob started but stopped, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, licking his dry lips, before continuing. "Baby, what is this? Why are you wearing…" He stared in awe at you like Aphrodite herself had descended from the heavens to grace him with her presence. Words seemed to fail him, like he was completely unable to describe the temptation in physical form that was in front of him. So he finished his sentence by croaking out the word, "…That?"

"What? You don't like my new outfit?" you asked innocently, tilting your head to the side. Stalking towards him, you let your hips sway tantalizingly. You felt like some beast of the hunt that had finally located its prey and was contemplating what spot to sink your teeth into first. Bob froze to the spot, watching you like a sailor enraptured in a siren's song, watching helplessly as the ship sailed closer and closer to the jagged rocks that spelled his doom. It was a heady kind of power, one you'd only ever felt before in the bedroom. Just the idea that you could entrance a man with the powers of a god with a lacy outfit and a few choice words was intoxicating. He stared at you like you were a goddess. And you fucking felt like one.

You backed him up against the counter, stepping into his space, stopping only mere inches away. So close you could practically feel his warmth through his hoodie.

"Do you want me to…" you started, using your index and middle fingers to walk your hand up Bob's chest. He was fixated, hanging on your every word like they were of the utmost importance. So you lowered your voice to a husky purr as you finished your sentence. "…Take it off?"

Bob's hands shot down, bracing himself against the counter like his legs suddenly needed the extra support. Like he was going to fall down at your feet if he didn't.

"Oh my God," he muttered shakily, eyes darting away like he couldn't stand to look at you directly, like he was unworthy.

You didn't wait for him to answer. You continued speaking.

"I thought of you when I bought it, baby," you purred, tilting his chin down to look at you. Even though you were shorter, it felt like you were towering over him in that moment, your domination a physical presence in the room.

"Y-you did?" Bob asked breathily, letting his eyes wander down, taking in your form again as though he couldn't help himself. Naturally, they rested on your chest, watching as your breasts strained against the fabric.

"Of course I did. Wanted to make sure my sweet boy would like it," you cooed. Bob visibly melted at your words, his tense muscles relaxing so much that even his eyes drifted half shut, looking up at you under his lashes.

"Really?" Bob asked, and his words were so earnest it made your heart skip a beat. "What about Walker?"

Your answering smile was a little less predatory and a little more playful.

"You haven't seen the back yet. The front's for you, baby," you said with a wink.

You took one of his hands in yours, lifting it from the counter and bringing it up to cup your breast. Audibly, Bob sucked in a harsh breath through his nose and let it slowly out of his mouth, ghosting over your bare skin. You shivered at the feeling, your nipples tightening almost painfully. Of course he noticed. As if it was unconscious, Bob's thumb rubbed circles over the peak of your nipple, biting his lower lip as he watched the motion as though as if he was hypnotizing himself.

When he brought his other hand up to your chest, you arched your back, pushing your breasts further into his grasp. You were practically leaning against him by then, the contained heat of his already thickening erection pressing against your thigh.

"I have an idea, Bob. One I think you're going to enjoy just as much as I will." Bob's eyes flicked up, trying to look you in the face, to give you his full attention, but you could feel how he wanted to look down, to stare further at your breasts.

"O-oh?" he murmured, eyes flitting down and back up again. You couldn't help but smirk. He was already wrapped around your finger.

"I need you to do something. Think you can be a good boy and help me?" The words had barely left your lips before he was nodding, mumbling the word 'yes.'

"What would you do for me, Robert?" you whispered, maintaining eye contact with him. His pupils were blown, his irises a thin ring of storm-dark blue.

"Anything," he answered breathlessly.

And in that moment, you knew one thing for certain - that you had Bob right where you wanted him.

You had barely taken your post behind the bedroom door before you heard the telltale sounds of John reentering your quarters. He was much louder than Bob, so you didn't need to strain to hear him call for you, grumpily muttering to himself when no one answered.

As John's footsteps grew nearer, it felt like your heart was going to burst its way through your ribcage. Every step caused it to beat faster, so much so that you could practically hear it in your ears. You gripped the manacles tightly, the cold metal biting into your hands just enough to ground you in the moment.

"You two better not have started the fun without me," John called out, chuckling to himself when he added, "Or I'll have to take you both over my knee."

His words struck like a bolt of lightning. You could see it so easily in your mind's eye: you trussed up, hands bound in cuffs behind your back, feet dangling as your body stretched over John's lap. There would be tears running down your face as you dutifully counted each time his hand came down on the heated skin of your ass, sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure in equal measure radiating through your body.

And you weren't the only one affected by John's words; Bob let out one solitary, plaintive whimper that hung in the air even after he bit the sound off abruptly. Instantly, all noise from the living room ceased.

John heard.

The ensuing steps were fast and heavy, his determined stomps crossing the room in record time. The bedroom door swung open, concealing you behind it. He took one step, then two before coming to a complete halt.

You didn't need to look to see what had snagged his attention, because you'd set the scene yourself. John always barged in, guns blazing, whether it was on the battlefield or into a room to try to catch his girlfriend and her other boyfriend shacking up without him. So you'd needed a distraction. Something so arresting that even his super soldier senses wouldn't help him detect you. And you had set the perfect trap.

Bob.

He was splayed out like an offering on your California king bed, wrists bound and tied to the headboard to keep him in place. The rope that held him matched the sheets that he squirmed on top of, both a deep, sumptuous purple that starkly contrasted his pale skin. And there was so much of it on display. Every inch of him was naked barring a few little accessories you'd adorned him with: a strip of cloth covering his eyes, a pitch black ball gag with breathing holes, and the pièce de résistance - a thick band of leather wrapped around the base of Bob's heavy cock which was flushed a dark pink, the tip weeping streaks of precum on his abs.

John made a sound like the wind was punched out of his lungs, his breathing audibly ragged as he took in the sight before him.

"Bobby," he breathed, his next inhale shaky. When he continued, his voice was strained, "Bob…why are you…?" John cut off his own question, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. "Where is she?"

The only answer Bob could give was unintelligible, his sounds muffled even through the air holes in his gag, lips and jaw too stretched to form words.

Keeping your hands behind your back to conceal the manacles, you stepped out from your hiding spot. "I think Bob's a little…tied up at the moment. Maybe I can help."

The John who turned to look at you was markedly different than the one who went to go fetch more popcorn. For one, his hair was rumpled, some strands sticking straight up like he'd absently rubbed his hand through it. A bright pink flush flooded his cheeks with color that dipped below the neckline of his flannel, no doubt running down to his shoulders and chest as well. Glassy blue eyes roamed over your body, disbelief and hunger warring for control on his face. As you'd heard, his breathing was labored, panting through his parted lips. If someone saw him in passing, he could almost play off his arousal as physical exertion, like he'd had a particularly invigorating workout. He could deny it all he wanted to, but there was no hiding the growing bulge in John's jeans. And that it was there before he turned around to face you.

A surge of vindication washed through you, transmuting into a powerful throb of desire between your legs. You could still picture it in your mind - John's hand tangled in Bob's hair, tugging hard. Bob's lips wrapped around your nipple, eyes locked in a heated stare with John's. How John's voice got so fucking deep when he called Bob a good boy. And the way Bob's eyes rolled back in his head at his words.

"Baby," John groaned out, stepping forward and gripping your hips nearly hard enough to bruise. He swayed like he wasn't sure if he wanted to press you to his chest or keep you at arm's length to admire you.

"You look…" He paused, eyes darting over you like he was trying to absorb every inch, to etch it into his memory. His thumbs rubbed circles into your sides, like he couldn't keep himself from stroking your skin through the fabric. Finally, John lifted his eyes to yours. "You look like a fucking dream."

"You don't look so bad yourself, handsome," you teased, standing up on tip toe to lightly press your lips to his bearded chin. John chased you, hunching over to slant his mouth over yours in what was immediately a passionate kiss.

There was no time wasted. John slipped an arm around your waist, the other tilting your chin to just the right angle to kiss you even deeper. You indulged him, letting him dominate you, invading your mouth like it belonged to him, his tongue swirling around yours.

He didn't notice anything was off until the cold metal cuff snapped closed around his wrist, its sharp clicking echoing in the quiet room. John's whole body went stiff, the muscles of his arm tensing around you. All you could do was wait, barely breathing as he pulled back, eyes fixed on the manacles dangling from his arm.

His thoughts were so clear you could practically see them scrolling across his eyes like ticker tape. The pieces were coming together: the lingerie and Bob as a distraction, the wine spill, the new sweater, tracing it all the way back to the small noise he'd heard in the kitchen that morning as he and Bob finalized their plans before you came down to breakfast.

This was the one variable in your plan that you just couldn't account for.

You'd wracked your brain all day, trying to come up with some way to both catch John off guard and be able to get both of his hands in the cuffs. You couldn't overpower him. You couldn't count on stealth. And tricking him was far too great a risk.

So you took the only option left - you let John choose.

When he finally looked back up at you, his eyes were narrowed. Thinking. Assessing. Calculating. You couldn't help but smile at how blown his pupils were. No matter what he chose, the three of you were in for a damn good night.

You closed the space between the two of you, and John wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer. He didn't hesitate for even a second. It was like a gut instinct that he couldn't help but follow. The cold metal of the cuffs brushed your back, the skin there only covered by a thin layer of lace. You couldn't stop the shiver that went through you at the feeling. From the look in John's eyes, he noticed it too.

Your lips parted, mouth open to speak, but John beat you to it.

"So," he murmured, his lips right next to your ear. Goosebumps rose on your arms as his hot breath ghosted over your skin. His voice was deep as sin, gravelly in that way he only got when exhausted or particularly worked up. "You gonna cuff my other wrist? Or you plannin' on cuffin' me to something…" He paused for effect, letting the weight of his words sink in. "…Or someone else?"

Pulling back enough to look him in the eye, you found yourself searching John's face for any hints of displeasure. There were none. His eyes were fixed on yours like he couldn't bear the thought of looking away. His lips were already reddening from your brief kiss, parted like he couldn't get in enough air, like the mere act of near you made breathing more difficult. This was the face of a thoroughly entranced man, ready and willing to submit to your pleasure.

"Wanted to give you a little bit of a fighting chance," you teased, smirking up at him.

Normally, John would quip back something smart like 'Is that why you ambushed me at the door?' or 'Sure seems like it, what with the industrial-grade handcuffs and all.' But his words caught you off guard.

"Never stand a chance against you when you've got your mind made up, darlin'," John said earnestly, his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. His free hand rubbed up and down your back, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the thin material there. "'Specially not with you dressed like that. Lookin' at me like that."

"What am I looking at you like?" you asked, trying to keep your voice smooth and seductive but coming off far more breathy than you intended.

"Like you're gonna eat me alive." The heat in his voice made your whole body pulse with pleasure, and the glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly what he was doing. Which is why he took a step back right as you surged forward to kiss him, sinking down to the floor on his knees in one graceful move, arms raised up before you as if in supplication. The act of submission took the very air out of your lungs.

"John," you breathed, chest rising and falling more rapidly.

"Please," he said, bowing his head reverently. "I'm ready for my punishment."

Taking a step forward, you rested your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair like you were either going to pet him or yank him up by force. You took in a deep, shaky breath, letting oxygen fill your lungs to compose yourself. When you breathed out, it was steady. A few more calm breaths, and you were ready.

"Please what?" you prompted, tightening your grip in his hair just a fraction. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to let him know you very well could.

"Please," John pleaded again, shuddering slightly as he finished his sentence, "Mistress."

The word thrummed through you - Mistress. It wasn't a title either of your boyfriends had ever used to describe you, though John had raised the idea before in passing. The closest they'd gotten was 'ma'am' - Bob's go-to honorific and one of John's favorite ways of teasing when you got bossy. It felt good, though. Fitting. Correct. There was a sense of power about it, the kind where you had a super soldier on his knees in front of you and a literal god naked and whimpering for your touch. Like you owned them.

Because you did.

"Stand up," you commanded, and John silently followed your orders, keeping his head down submissively. "Turn around. Hands behind your back."

You didn't snap the other cuff on John immediately; you took your time closing it, the sharp sound of each of the jagged metal teeth click into place slowly around his wrist. By the time the manacles were firmly on, John's breathing was audibly more shaky, the muscles in his upper back tensed and not from the positioning.

You let your hands roam, running up his flannel-clad back and back down his arms, feeling the roped muscles underneath his sleeves. When you reached his hands, you checked the security of the handcuffs, making sure they weren't tight enough to hurt or loose enough for escape.

"Color?"

"Green," John answered immediately. You hummed your approval, pleased at his easy obedience.

"What do you do if you can't speak?"

"One tap for no, two taps for yes," John faithfully recited. He was standing at parade rest like he was being commanded by a superior officer: legs shoulder-width apart, staring straight ahead with his chest puffed out and shoulders back, hands dutifully clasped.

Sliding your hands even further down, you cupped his ass, squeezing roughly. Even though he didn't always wear pants that showed it, John had such a nice ass. There was muscle there, sure. And great definition. But it was also plush, more plump than anywhere else on his body save for the little belly he got occasionally when overindulging, especially during the holidays. You'd said it before and you'd say it again: John Walker had a fat ass.

Letting go of him, you raised your hand, letting it come down in a hard smack that was, unfortunately, muffled by his jeans. It may not have hurt him, but the hitch in John's breath was beyond satisfying.

"Good job, soldier," you purred, pressing your torso against his back. You kept your hips back to avoid his cuffed hands, only letting the delicate lace of your chemise brush over his palms. Your hands, however, roamed of their own accord, one slipping under the hem of his shirt, his muscles twitching under your fingertips. The other danced dangerously close to the firm outline of his now fully-hard cock, just enough to tease by sliding up and down his thighs.

John held himself together admirably. But when you stepped back, fully removing yourself from him, John practically gasped for air, like he hadn't allowed himself to breathe as you touched him. Or perhaps he'd temporarily forgotten how to.

"Sit," you commanded, pointing to the low armchair you'd moved to the base of the bed. Normally, you'd find the chair draped in random clothes it'd gather between cleaning days - shirts you'd only worn for an hour or two, jackets you should have hung up, a bra you'd put aside to wear in the morning but forgot about. Now it was John draped across the chair, leaning fully against the backrest, his cuffed hands squished against the plush, grey fabric, his manspreading less like a expression of careless dominance and more like an invitation. One you willingly took up his offer on, climbing into his lap, stocking-clad knees resting on the seat of the chair on either side of his hips.

You hovered, not quite sitting down, your core mere inches away from the bulge in his jeans. He gazed up at you with wide eyes and parted lips, looking like a lost soul in a desert who'd just spotted a lush oasis that would be his salvation.

"Do you know why I have you tied up like this?"

John shook his head, not taking his eyes off yours. When you didn't continue, he seemingly realized his mistake and answered in a gravelly voice, "No, mistress."

Leaning down, you brushed your mouth along his jaw, his soft beard feeling exquisitely rough against your lips.

"You've been bad, haven't you?" you whispered, your breath ghosting over his skin. If his arms weren't covered by the sleeves of his flannel, you'd have been able to see the goosebumps that erupted there.

When John opened his mouth, face screwed up to protest, you silenced him with your hand, muffling his words.

"Don't lie to me," you hissed, nipping at his skin hard enough to make him jolt a little, his back now ramrod straight. "You thought you could cook up some little scheme and rope poor, sweet Bob into it without me noticing." When he hesitated for a second, not answering, you leaned down, biting the soft skin of John's throat just hard enough to sting but not hurt. You expected a little sound of pain in response, maybe him sucking air between his teeth or a gasp, but John let out a shaky moan under your palm.

"Didn't you?" you prompted, your voice syrupy sweet but venomous, like honey laced with poison.

The only answer he gave was a frustrated little noise. You smiled against his skin, huffing out a small laugh. He was trying to follow your rules but couldn't. Your hand was covering his mouth.

"You don't have to say the words this time, baby. Just nod or shake your head for me." Condescension dripped from your words, but John either didn't mind or he was already too far gone to notice.

When he nodded, you hummed your approval.

"Good boy," you purred, hand slipping from his lips to the nape of his neck, curling in the fine blond hair there. He inhaled sharply when you gripped hard, yanking his head back to look you in the eye. "And you know what good boys get?"

"No, mistress," John panted out. You kept a taut hold on him, staring down, eyes searching his face as if to discern the truth in his words. He was lying, but you couldn't fault him. At least not this time. From the desperate way his eyes bored into yours, he needed to hear you say it.

"Good boys get rewarded," you purred.

In one fluid motion, you lowered yourself, rocking down against the swell of him and capturing his lips in what quickly became a heated, sloppy kiss. The friction of his jeans against your clit felt magical, both you and John finally receiving the stimulation you'd both been craving.

The heat of the moment gripped you, and everything outside of your bodies fell away. You let yourself give in to the sensations - the way John panted against your lips in the brief moments your mouths parted like he'd forgotten to breathe, the smooth slide of his tongue against yours, the little throaty noises John would make when you sucked on his lower lip, and how you could feel John's jeans becoming wetter with each roll of your body against him. You could've done this for hours. Hell, you could have ridden him for days. But a high, keening whine from behind you pulled you back, slamming you into reality.

Unconsciously, John chased your lips when you broke the kiss, leaning back on your haunches to gain your bearings again. You chuckled, giving the man one last peck on the lips but not lingering, much to his chagrin.

"Mmm, you almost got me," you admitted, grinning at John. "That mouth almost made me forget you needed to be taught a lesson." You ran your finger over his lips and down his chin as he stared up at you with large, sad eyes, wordlessly pleading for you to continue.

Slipping out of his lap, you padded over to the head of the bed, tugging your chemise down from where it had ridden up. John let out an involuntary groan as he finally spotted the one part of your outfit he hadn't seen before - the see-through back panel. You grinned to yourself at his suffering.

Kneeling next to Bob on the lush purple bedspread, you wasted no time untying both the ballgag and blindfold, flinging them off the bed and onto the floor. Bob's eyes squinted immediately, even the dim light of the bedroom blinding to his newly freed senses. He opened his mouth, stretching his jaw until it audibly popped. You couldn't help but wince in sympathy, moving to gently massage the muscles right under his ears, your hands helping to ease the ache there.

"You doing okay, baby?" you asked soothingly, an apologetic lilt to your tone.

"Yeah," Bob whispered, voice groggy until he cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am," he corrected, his voice at its regular volume.

You smoothed some of his hair off his forehead before reaching to inspect his bound wrists, checking for any redness and making sure his arms still had full circulation. You'd been careful when tying him up, but Bob wasn't exactly the type to complain about his own comfort.

"I'm sorry I took so long, sugar," you cooed down at him, stroking his hair. Bob closed his eyes, soaking in the affection. "Didn't mean to tease you that hard."

"S'okay," he murmured, turning his head and pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your wrist.

"My sweet boy," you whispered, peppering kisses all over his face until Bob's muscles fully relaxed, his body sinking deeper into the comforter. "You okay to continue? Need to take a break? Change position?"

Bob shook his head, his deep blue eyes fluttering open. "'M good. I feel good."

"Yeah?" you murmured, pressing your lips to his jaw, lingering longer there, your kisses becoming more heated.

"Yeah," Bob affirmed, voice noticeably huskier than before. "Green. Very…very green."

"Mmm," you hummed, starting to run your hand down his torso. Your fingertips traced the sharp line of his collar bone from his shoulder to the center of his chest before trailing down. His cock, which had flagged a little bit before you sat down on the bed, was at full attention again. It twitched as your hand slid further down his body, between the pectoral muscles, going from just one finger to the whole of your palm easing down his stomach, still sticky with precum.

Bob didn't fight the full throated moan that ripped out of him when you wrapped your hand around his length, slowly stroking him from the base all the way up to his leaking tip. Just the weight and heat of him in your hand was enough to make your mouth water. You had to force yourself to let go of him, biting your lip to keep from grinning at Bob's whimper of protest.

"Sorry, baby," you said almost mockingly, not even a trace of remorse in your voice.

Turning to face him, you brought your hand up to your face, licking off a droplet of precum. Bob's answering whine was so delicious that you couldn't fight down the cruel smile that tugged at your lips.

"Do you know why you're here?" you asked Bob, gesturing at the rope that held him captive.

Bob nodded, biting at his already reddened lips.

"Tell me."

For a split second, his eyes darted to the end of the bed, to the other man quietly observing you. But you put a stop to that, snapping your fingers to draw his attention back.

"Eyes on me, baby. Now…" You let your words trail off just as you started to run your hand over his chest again, fingertips barely grazing his skin. His nipples hardened under your touch, and you drew lazy circles around them. "Tell me why I have you here like this."

"I…" Bob hesitated, but when you whipped your head to look at him, he quickly choked out an answer. "I was bad. I should have told you."

Satisfied that he'd continue to answer, you refocused your attention on Bob's nipples. They were small and dusky pink with a little ring of hair growing right around them. And you knew from experience just how sensitive they were.

"Keep going," you prompted. "Told me what?"

"I-I should have told you about John's plan," he admitted.

"Bobby, don't you dare…" John started to warn, but another snap of your fingers, and he went silent. Despite the grumpy look he shot you, John's eyes were alight.

"Uh uh uh. No more talking from you," you admonished, enjoying the way John squirmed under your glare. "Keep going, sweetheart," you encouraged Bob. You let your thumb swirl around the pebbled skin of Bob's nipple, redirecting his attention. He inhaled sharply through his nose but kept going.

"He…" Bob's eyes twitched like he wanted to look back at John but forced himself not to. You felt a small swell of both pride and pleasure in him following your orders. "He wanted to trick you. To tie you up and…" His words trailed off, looking like he was working himself up to finish his sentence. "Have…his way…with you. 'M sorry."

"That's okay, sweetheart. I can forgive you," you cooed, smiling down at him. God, you loved the way he looked up at you, big blue eyes so full of love, staring at you like you were his very salvation. "And, because you were honest with me and helped me with my plan, I have a reward for you. You want your reward, puppy?"

Bob nodded furiously. "Yes! Yes, please. Please, mistress," he pleaded, surging up as much as he could before you lightly pushed him back down on the bed. Hearing that honorific from Bob's lips - mistress - was almost more than you could bear. Your pussy clenched, clit throbbing in arousal. Fortunately, relief was in sight.

Reaching under his pillow, you pulled out a small piece of plastic. It was about an inch long, white, and perfectly rectangular. Bob's eyebrows furrowed in confusion when you held it in front of him. He didn't voice his question, just looked up at you for answers. You pressed your thumb on the indented area, and the loud, metallic click the object made seemed to echo in the room. Instead of answering his question, Bob looked even more perplexed as you pressed the clicker into his hand.

"Click it for me," you ordered. There was a moment of hesitation before Bob obeyed, pushing down on the metal part of the clicker. The sound was less jarring this time, but no more enlightening than before.

You couldn't help but smirk. "Looks like it's not just for training dogs," you teased. "Then again, you are my good little puppy." You didn't think it was possible for Bob's face to turn even more pink than it already was, but the blush that dusted his cheeks was almost scarlet.

You didn't mean to say the words "You're so pretty" out loud, but, judging by how Bob turned his head to the side, trying to bashfully duck away from your gaze, you must have. Grabbing his chin, you pulled his head back up to endure your undivided attention, letting your eyes roam over him.

God, he was indeed beautiful. You could catalog everything you loved about his face: the shallow wrinkle on his forehead and cute little lines under those expressive eyes, the strong and mostly straight nose that ended in a slightly bulbous tip that was perfect for planting a kiss on, the five o'clock shadow that always haunted his skin no matter how closely he shaved, his thin but oh-so-soft lips that knew how to kiss you breathless and drive you mad in turn, all the way to the strong jut of his jaw and the delicious protrusion of his Adam's apple. And his eyes. Oh, they were as deep and dark as the ocean and sometimes just as stormy. But not now. Now they gazed up at you with a look of sheer reverence, waiting for your next command, ready and willing to follow your every whim like it was the gospel, like he was your most faithful disciple.

And you kissed him. Despite the heat of the evening's proceedings, it started slow, a simple pass of lips coming together and separating in turn over and over again. When you ran your tongue across the seam of his lips, they parted smoothly, like he hadn't even made the conscious decision. It was just that natural. And, when you kissed him, you tasted him, sliding your tongue along his as if sampling its delicacies. It grew in intensity naturally, building and building until Bob was panting against your lips, barely able to bite back the little sounds at the back of his throat that threatened to spill out and into your mouth. You could feel him trying to stay still, to be good for you, body going so stiff Bob was practically shaking from the tension. When you finally broke the kiss, you rested your forehead on Bob's, both of you fighting to catch your breath.

"Fuck," you muttered, not missing the way Bob's lips turned up at the edges in a pleased smile. "You almost distracted me too, baby."

"'M sorry," Bob breathed. He was lying, but you couldn't fault him for it this time. In Bob's perfect world, you'd be on top of him right now, kissing him until his lungs felt near to bursting, his throbbing erection buried deep inside of you as you ground down against him. As wet as that thought made you, he still needed to be punished. Bob wouldn't get your pussy until he earned it.

Sitting back up, you pushed the hair that had fallen down back out of your face. "Still have that clicker, baby?"

"Yes, mistress," Bob answered.

"What's the code for when you can't speak?"

Bob frowned slightly, a little confused. But he answered anyway, his words lilting up at the end as if he wanted to turn them into a question but he didn't quite dare to ask. "One tap for no, two for yes."

"We need to use a slightly different one this time," you murmured, brushing the hair back out of his face. "One click is pause. And two clicks is for stop. Do you understand?"

"One click for pause, two clicks for stop," Bob repeated, making the appropriate number of clicks for each part of the sentence.

You spared a glance over your shoulder at John. Bob may not have pieced together what his reward was, but John sure as hell did. His eyes burned into you hot enough that you were momentarily grateful that Bob was the one with heat vision. You could see his chest rise and fall just a little too quickly under his shirt, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth to calm himself. His lips were a dark, lush pink, like he'd been biting at them, fighting to keep silent. You smirked back at him. That was the face of a man who knew exactly what he was missing out on.

You looked back down at Bob, who was still looking up at you with wide, searching eyes, his forehead furrowed, eyebrows adorably pushed up in the middle.

"You hungry, puppy?" you cooed down at him, grinning sharply when his look of confusion only grew.

Shifting your weight, you swung your leg over Bob to straddle his chest. In a second, it was like a light bulb had flickered on in Bob's head.

"Oh my God," he practically moaned, voice shaky. He'd done a good job not speaking unless asked a question this whole time, but it was like any other thought had left his head. "Please, baby. Fuck, I need this. Need you. Need to taste you. Please." Bob almost dropped the clicker, but you pressed it back into his hand before moving to hover over his face, knees on either side of his head on the pillows. Your thighs were already starting to ache, but you pushed the pain into the back of your mind.

"Remember, one click for pause and two clicks for stop," you purred down at Bob, adjusting quickly when he craned his neck, desperate to taste you. He was definitely hungry.

You didn't make him repeat it back this time. This time, you were merciful. You lowered your dripping pussy onto his awaiting tongue, his resulting moan vibrating against your clit. Your hands shot out, grasping the headboard to help hold yourself up. After all, you didn't want to crush his pretty little face.

Bob was everywhere all at once, licking and sucking every inch of skin he could reach, the most obscene sounds filling the room. He ran his tongue up your slit and back down again, stretching his neck for a better angle.

"Tongue flat, baby," you ordered, letting out a hum of cruel amusement when he immediately obeyed. You rocked your hips, grinding your clit into his tongue, moaning at the delicious, wet friction.

Bob's hands twitched, uselessly trying to grab for you. Normally, Bob helped when you rode his face. Sometime around the middle, your legs always seemed to turn to jelly. So Bob was always there to help, effortlessly holding you up by your hips, letting you control the pace and positioning as you got off on his mouth. But this time, you'd have to do it all alone. Hopefully, the Sentry serum gave him an increased lung capacity.

You rode his face, using his mouth however you wanted it. After grinding your clit on his tongue, you grabbed Bob's head, fingers clutching his scalp, and angled him further down. His tongue lapped at your entrance, happily drinking you straight from the source.

"Fuck me with your tongue, baby," you commanded, and Bob wasted no time obeying. He thrust his tongue inside of you, both of you moaning in tandem. Yours was with your head thrown back, grinding down even harder on his face, clenching your walls around him. His was muffled inside of you but still so loud in the mostly quiet room filled only with your and John's heavy breathing. You canted your hips forward, letting his nose nudge your clit with each subsequent grind.

It quickly became harder and harder to hold yourself up. Where you'd been hovering, barely touching Bob's face, you were now firmly seated on him. Not that he minded. Bob was locked in, his eyes closed in focus, that little line forming between his eyebrows as he furrowed them in concentration.

"Bob, baby," you murmured down at him, stroking his hair idly. "Look at me, sweet boy. Wanna see those eyes."

His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyelids, his glassy gaze and wide pupils telling you everything you needed to know.

"Aww, is the little puppy pussydrunk already?" you cooed, an edge of mockery in your tone. Bob just whined against you in answer, and you could feel the bed shift as his hips bucked into the air, fruitlessly searching for any friction to soothe his aching cock.

"You're doing so good," you moaned, gripping his hair even harder as you angled your hips to let Bob's tongue run along your slit from your entrance all the way to your clit, which he happily took in his mouth. "Fuck," you swore, biting your lower lip as you rocked against Bob's mouth. "Suck that clit, baby. You're making me feel so fucking good. Gonna cum on that pretty little face."

There was a choked sound from the end of the bed, and you looked back over your shoulder at John. This was definitely punishment for him. He couldn't stop fidgeting in his seat, prick so eager for friction that even the uncomfortable rub of the metal teeth on his zipper provided a kind of sharp, painful relief. Gone were the deep breaths in through the nose and out through his mouth; John was panting, lips parted enticingly. He was staring fixated at what he could see of your cunt smearing Bob's face with your arousal.

"Oh, looks like Johnny's liking the show, puppy," you teased, exaggerating the next roll of your hips to pull a groan out of John's mouth. He didn't disappoint. And neither did Bob who answered your question with a quivering moan of his own that vibrated through you pleasantly.

"You want some, baby?" you taunted John. He nodded immediately, leaning forward in the armchair hopefully. "You want to eat this pretty pussy, sugar?"

"Please," John practically moaned. All pretense of dominance was long gone from the man. He'd already tried tugging on the restraints, finding them much sturdier than he'd at first thought. He'd practically melted, finding something strangely erotic about feeling weak and helpless. Like he was completely at your mercy to do with as you pleased. And he desperately wanted to be used.

"You hear that, Bob? John wants a turn," you said innocently, stroking Bob's hair as if to calm him while your words were doing anything but. "I should let him have a taste. It's only fair."

Before you could even pantomime starting to lift a leg to pull yourself off of him, a growl ripped its way out of Bob's throat. You had to bite your lip to keep from whimpering at the look of sheer, unmitigated possessiveness in his eyes as your boyfriend glared up at you. The headboard creaked violently as Bob strained against his restraints. He wasn't using his full strength, but, judging by the flash of gold in his eyes, Bob definitely would break something if you tried to climb off him. When you stayed quiet, he made another low, dangerous sound, letting his teeth lightly scrape against your clit. You tried to hold back your gasp but to no avail. Bob hummed in pleasure when you bucked your hips, lathing that little bundle of nerves with his tongue before sliding his teeth over it again.

"Fuck! Bob, oh my God!" you cried out, clenching your fists tighter in Bob's hair, your teasing instantly forgotten.

Your knees went weak, and you found yourself sinking down completely on his face, unable to hold yourself up. If you weren't so distracted riding his mouth, you would have noticed that the gold didn't disappear from his eyes, that it almost felt like there were hands holding onto your thighs, ones that helped you rut harder against his face. His mouth was everywhere, lapping and slurping at your folds, fucking his tongue into you, and mouthing his lips over your sensitive clit, practically moaning when you thrust down, hips stuttering against him.

Soon enough, you were shaking, stomach muscles twitching, thighs tightening around Bob's head. He didn't seem to mind, making a happy noise in the back of his throat as he panted against your slick skin. Focusing on your nub, Bob swirled his tongue around it before flattening, letting you lewdly hump his face, dragging your clit over the flexing muscle. When you started whimpering, making desperate little noises that were practically begging him for release, he increased the suction on that little bundle of nerves, suckling hard enough to make you see white spots behind your closed eyelids. Each flex of his jaw, each swallow coincided with each roll of your hips, the rhythm of it combined with the pleasure-pain of pressure driving you closer and closer to the edge.

With one last rut of your hips and a wail, your whole body went rigid as your release slammed into you, leaving you gasping and shaking. Bob worked you through it, still licking every inch of skin he could get his mouth on but slowing down. He only let up once you were whining, trying to pull yourself off of him to collapse on the bed. Reluctantly, Bob let you go, and you flopped down next to him, gasping for breath like you'd run an Olympic marathon.

You only gave yourself to the count of five before you forced yourself to sit up, carefully pulling the rope on the quick-release knots holding Bob's wrists in place. As soon as the purple ropes were gone, you went to take his hands to inspect them, but you didn't have a chance to. The next thing you knew, you were on your back, head now at the foot of the bed, legs thrown haphazardly over Bob's shoulders as he buried his face back between them, eagerly lapping at your sensitive cunt.

"Bob!" you cried out, once again grasping honeyed-brown locks in your hands. He was relentless. And he was everywhere, tonguing your folds like he was desperate to wring every last ounce of pleasure out of you. Bob rutted his hips against the bed in time with the movements of his tongue, your ecstasy turning into his own as he whined and panted against you.

You almost gave in. You almost let him manhandle you to another orgasm. But, when you caught John's eye and saw the warring desires written plainly on his face - the desire to please you versus the desire to pleasure you - you came back to your senses.

"Bob," you said again, mustering enough authority in your tone to cause the man between your legs to pause, looking up at you. He was a mess - hair clutched between your fingers, lower face soaked with your juices, eyes a swirl of black, blue, and flecks of gold.

"Bob…no, baby. You gotta let me up," you scolded. It felt a bit ridiculous, what with your legs in the air and a literal god holding you down, but you pushed through the feeling.

Bob let out a whine of complaint, opening his mouth to protest. You fixed him with your best schoolteacher glare, and he visibly withered.

"You got your treat, puppy. C'mere," you urged. Tugging on his hair to pull him closer to you, Bob allowed your legs to drop down, crawling up between them.

Not all of him had deflated when you glowered at him. His hips bucked, sliding his hard length along your slick folds. You gasped when the swollen head nudged your abused clit, pulling him down into a blistering kiss. The taste of you was sharp and sweet on his lips, drawing a moan out of you that Bob willingly drank from your mouth.

When you finally drew back, Bob moved down, mouthing at your neck, tongue out to taste your skin. You allowed him this much, closing your eyes and letting your hand idly scratch his scalp until he reached the base of your neck, sucking a possessive mark into your skin.

"That's enough, sweetheart," you murmured to him. This time, when you tried to sit up, Bob got the hint, leaning back to sit on his knees, watching you for instruction.

"There's my good boy," you purred, stroking his cheek with the back of your hand. Bob closed his eyes, leaning into your fleeting touch. That was until you pulled something out of a clever little pocket in the chemise, pressing it into his hands - a key. His eyes fluttered open, looking from the key in his hands to John in the armchair and back to you. "That's right, baby. Go unlock those handcuffs for me."

After one more brief kiss, Bob quietly obeyed, getting off the bed and padding his way over to the grey armchair. You took this time to pull yourself to the top of the bed, sitting up against the headboard, watching your two favorite boys.

Bob was gentle as he unlocked the manacles from John's wrists. Without your prompting, he knelt down and took John's hands in his, checking them for any signs of redness or abrasion the same way you'd meant to do with Bob before he abruptly tackled you. His touch was soft, running the pads of his thumbs over the delicate skin of John's wrists.

"You okay?" Bob asked quietly in that low, breathy voice of his, looking up into John's eyes. Maybe you were just seeing what you wanted to see, but it certainly seemed like both men's eyes were softer when they looked at each other. It wasn't one of the myriad ways you'd seen them looking at you, but it was…something.

"Yeah," John answered, his voice just as soft as Bob's and even more breathless.

"Can you…feel everything? No numbness?" Bob pressed.

A wry smile curled John's lips. "I'm good, Bobby. I promise. Scout's honor."

You cleared your throat, and both men pulled their hands away from each other like they were caught doing something they weren't supposed to. The smile you gave them was both condescending and self-satisfied. You couldn't help yourself.

"Good boys," you commended. Both of them seemed to sit up straighter at your words, preening under your watchful gaze. You let your eyes slowly slide down and then back up their bodies, smirking. "I think someone's a little overdressed. Bob, sugar?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Help him take those clothes off."

He swallowed hard enough that John probably heard it, his Adam's apple bobbing and making your mouth water with the urge to lick his throat. You wet your lips instead, and both pairs of blue eyes shot down automatically, watching the brief flash of tongue. When Bob looked back up and met your eyes, his widened, a flash of panic there when he realized he didn't verbally answer you.

"Y-yes, ma'am. Mistress? Yes, mistress." Bob winced, cringing at his own words. "Sorry, mistress. I just got sidetracked. I'll-"

"It's okay, baby," you reassured him, his shoulders relaxing with a small sigh of relief at your words. You crossed your legs in front of you on the bed, exaggerating the movement to make sure they caught a glimpse of your nakedness under the lingerie. "I'm flattered you find me so…distracting."

"Always," Bob breathed, eyes taking you in like he was trying to burn the sight of you into his retinas. And John wasn't any better. Even though he couldn't see under the chemise, he stared at your crossed legs like he was mentally willing them to part for him.

"I won't hold it against you, I promise," you said with a teasing smile that had Bob blushing. You gestured at John. "Now, get to it, or I might have to change my mind. And go slow." You gestured at the front of John's flannel. "Unbutton it. Take your time."

Bob's fingers fumbled on John's shirt. You couldn't tell if the man was having a kind of stage fright, being put on the spot and watched, or if the proximity to the other man and the intimacy of the act was affecting him.

After he'd managed to undo a few, you directed John to help. Instead of taking over for Bob, John placed his hands on top of the brunet's, coaxing his fingers to slip the buttons through the holes of his flannel, his shirt falling more and more open, exposing a thin undershirt beneath it. When it was fully undone, Bob pushed the fabric off John's shoulders and down his arms, fingers running over the newly bared skin.

The undershirt was next, John raising his arms and letting Bob slowly pull it up his torso and over his head, the dangling silver dogtags on John's neck brushing the skin of Bob's chest. The metal had been pressed against John's chest the entire night, so there was no way it was colder. But, when they touched Bob, he'd shivered like they were freezing anyway.

The jeans were next. John stood up to help unbutton them, but one word from you kept Bob kneeling. Bob looked up at the man hovering over him. John's breathing stuttered for a second, and you knew why. You'd seen those storm-blue eyes gazing up at you from between your thighs more times that you could count, and the sight never failed to send a rush of heat straight between your legs, stealing the air from your lungs. If the stunned look on John's face was any indication, he felt the same.

The belt came off easily enough. Even though you'd never seen Bob wear one, he certainly knew the easiest way to remove one, not even struggling with the belt buckle that you yourself had fumbled with before. He placed it on the armchair before continuing.

Bob's fingers weren't shaking anymore as he unbuttoned the fly on John's jeans, keeping eye contact the whole time. John stood transfixed, pink lips parted in silent awe. The teeth of John's zipper sounded loud in the quiet of the room, each one making a little metallic noise that echoed in your ears.

Finally, when the pants were unfastened, Bob rested his hands on John's hips, thumbs going through the belt loops. When John nodded, barely jerking his head down then up again, Bob began pulling, coaxing the jeans down his legs. His hands could have stopped around mid-thigh and let gravity take over, but Bob was nothing if not diligent. He traced John's legs all the way down, leaving the jeans in a pile around the other man's feet.

Looking back up, Bob was face to face with the obvious tent in John's boxer briefs. He was so close, his breath puffed warm air over the erection, and John was far from unaffected by his proximity.

"Jesus Christ, Bobby," he muttered under his breath just loud enough for you to hear it. Bob tried to play innocent, his big eyes opening wider, becoming even more round like he had no idea what he was doing, but the smirk tugging on the corners of his lips gave it away.

Soon, Bob's hands were on the waist of John's boxer briefs, fingers slipping under the elastic band, rubbing against the skin there. John was biting his lip, his breathing kept slow and steady with visible effort. Bob glanced at you for permission, and you wasted no time granting it with a sharp nod of your head. He took his time, even more so than with the jeans, skimming his palms over the bare skin he revealed inch by inch.

By the time John stood fully naked at the end of the bed, both men were breathing hard and painfully erect. John's cockhead was almost purple, a few sparse droplets of precum glistening on his glans. If Bob quickly looked away and licked his lips, John didn't comment on it.

A soft, wet schlick drew both of their attention to you. While they were distracted with each other, you'd occupied yourself, two fingers slowly circling your clit, teasing yourself. Your hand dipped, sliding through your slick folds, wetting your fingers before bringing them back, the touch tantalizingly light. Seeing their attention back on you, you spread your legs further, giving them both a better view.

"Want a taste?" you purred at John, a smug smile on your lips at his dazed expression.

"Please," he said, the word no more than a breathy whisper. It was as though he didn't know where to look, his eyes flickering between your face and your soaked core.

You let your hand slip down, skimming your fingertips over your slit, before slowly pressing two fingers inside. Watching John, you pumped them in and out of you, the sounds of your arousal quickly filling the bedroom. Only a single sigh of pleasure spilled out of you as you curled your fingers, touching that spongy spot inside of you that sent tendrils of sensation through your body.

Stopping abruptly, you removed your fingers, holding them up in front of you, glistening in the dim light with your slick. John's stare bore into you. There was a tension in him, not unlike a string on a violin, one that had been overly-tightened and was ready to snap given the slightest opportunity.

"Bob," you called. The brunet, who'd been kneeling patiently on the floor, watching the scene play out, snapped his head toward you, blinking in obvious surprise.

"Y-yes, ma'am?" he asked, voice tentative.

"C'mere." You quirked your wet fingers at him, and he rushed to crawl to you on the bed. Extending your hand in front of him, you only spoke one word. "Suck."

And Bob happily obeyed. He opened his mouth, letting you thrust your fingers in, where he sucked on them happily. Bob tried to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at you, but he couldn't help himself. His oral fixation was too strong and having your fingers in his mouth was too soothing.

Once you were satisfied he'd cleaned them thoroughly, you removed your fingers from Bob's mouth with a wet pop. Those deep blue eyes fluttered open, watching you with a half-lidded gaze. It took everything in you to not pull him into another kiss when he gave you that sweet, dopey smile that you only ever saw when he was fucked out or drunk off your pussy.

Turning your attention back to John, it took everything in you again but this time to not laugh at his expression. The man looked devastated. Those sad eyes that drew you to him originally were in full force now as he gazed at you. It was the face of a man who had accepted his punishment but just couldn't fight down his disappointment. He didn't pout. He didn't scowl. He didn't even look put out. He just looked resigned to his punishment.

"Don't worry, baby. You'll still get a taste. Come here, handsome boy," you cooed at him.

You'd teased John more than once that he was the human equivalent of a Golden Retriever, and the way his face lit up in excitement like you were holding his favorite toy didn't help his case. If he had a tail, John would definitely be wagging it. He crawled over to you on the opposite side from Bob, sitting back on his heels, mirroring the other man. It was like your legs had their very own book ends.

On the outside, you looked cool and collected, amusement dancing on your lips. But on the inside, your heart was a war drum pounding against your ribcage, like you were leading an army into battle. Your stomach fluttered with nerves, but you steeled yourself. Doubts flooded your mind, but you pushed them aside.

It was like a mission. A high-stakes mission with potential long-lasting consequences, but you'd done plenty of those before and come out the other side. And if you were wrong? So what? Sure, it'd be awkward, maybe even a little painful. But these two idiots would never take the dive if you left them to their own devices. They'd been skirting around their attraction for months. It was time for you to give them that final little push.

"You know…" you started, drawing out the words in an almost sing-song voice. John frowned immediately. Sometimes you thought he might just have some precognition, the way he could sense trouble on the horizon. Especially if that trouble came from you. "I don't think you deserve to have some straight from the source."

John opened his mouth to plead his case, a rebuttal already fully formed and ready to go in his mind. But you cut him off before he could gather steam.

"But you can have a taste secondhand."

You waved your hand at Bob, the gesture casual, almost flippant even though your words were anything but.

Bob understood first. His mouth fell open, kiss-swollen lips parting with a soft noise of surprise. He went pale beneath the flush on his skin, his eyes widening as he watched you, as if waiting for confirmation that he heard you correctly. You gave him one firm nod, and he muttered the words 'holy shit,' under his breath.

John took a minute. He looked down at your hand, as if expecting you to touch yourself again so he could suck the juices off your fingers the way Bob had, but his expression was pure puzzlement when you pointed instead. His eyes followed, turning to look at whatever you were gesturing to. When his gaze met Bob's, it was still one of confusion. That is until Bob licked his lips.

It was an instinct, a nervous habit he did in stressful situations. His mouth would go dry and so would his lips. Bob normally remedied this by carrying around lip balm everywhere he went - putting one in each of his hoodies and stashing some in the common areas he used the most. But this time, he didn't even think about it. He just did. And John's eyes followed his tongue like they were magnetized to it.

When he looked back up, Bob was watching him closely, trying to judge his reaction. And react, he did.

It was like a light bulb lit up in his mind - a bright, neon one with a lurid image on it, like something you'd find in a trashy strip club in the 80s. His eyes went wide as saucers, mouth falling open in surprise. Even though he was turned to the side, you could see those long, blond lashes fluttering as he blinked rapidly like his brain was recalibrating.

When he turned to you, John's face was a swirl of emotions - shock, shame, and stubbornness chief among them. You laid your hand on his forearm, and, when he didn't rebuff you, you took his hand in yours.

"Hey, we don't have to do anything anyone doesn't want," you told him gently, dropping character entirely. "We can go back to what we were doing. Or we can stop entirely. Or anything in between."

You glanced over at Bob, only to find him watching John closely, an unreadable look on his face. You smiled, catching his attention and tentatively offering your other hand to him, which Bob accepted with a gentle squeeze.

"If I went too far or this is too much, I'm sorry," you said earnestly, eyes flitting back and forth between your boyfriends. "It just seems like you two have been dancing around each other for months. That maybe you needed a little push."

"We could have just talked about it," Bob said wryly, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand, giving you a smug little smirk when you had the grace to look bashful.

"You and I could have talked about it, sure," you admitted, turning to look at John. "But something tells me you would have just kept running forever."

John's answering smile had an edge of self-deprecation. "You're probably right about that," he admitted with a sigh.

"I'm right about most things," you teased, and John's smile turned more genuine.

"Dunno if I'd go that far," he said with a chuckle. Leaning in, you kissed his cheek, his stubble grazing your skin not-unpleasantly. Turning his head, John captured your lips in a brief but oh-so-sweet embrace. Bob watched you both, his gaze so heavy it felt like it had physical weight. It was like earlier when he caught sight of you in your lingerie, but this time, Bob wasn't watching just you.

"You sure you're okay with this?" John asked as he pulled back, his breath ghosting over your lips.

"You're asking me if I want my boyfriends to kiss?" At John's answering nod, you couldn't help but let out a sharp bark of a laugh. "Of fucking course I do. I didn't even consider it as a possibility until recently. But the better question is - do you?"

John's eyes flickered past you, looking at Bob, and they darted away just as quickly. It was like he wasn't able to hold Bob's intense gaze for long. At the same time, he couldn't quite keep his eyes away. They kept glancing over, catching little glimpses of Bob's stare as though he was drawn in by those storm-dark eyes.

"I meant it when I said you don't have to if you don't want to," you said softly, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb with little back and forth motions. "And it isn't a 'now or never' situation either. We can always talk about this later."

"I," John started, licking his lower lip nervously. "I do." He finally met Bob's eyes. This time, he was steady, not breaking eye contact. "I'd like to."

"Bob, are you -" you started, but Bob already sat up, getting on his hands and knees and pressing his lips to John's.

Suddenly, it was like the air was sucked out of the room. Your brain seemed to stop functioning properly, completely freeze-framing on the sight right in front of you, one you had imagined so many times but never thought would leave the confines of your mind.

John's eyes closed the second their lips touched, his blond lashes fluttering against his skin. His face went slack, like all the anxiety, all his thoughts slipped out of his head, smoothing the lines on his forehead and in the corners of his eyes. His hand hovered nervously before tentatively placing it on Bob's forearm, grip gradually tightening until there were little white crescents in Bob's skin there.

Even though Bob had his head angled away from you, the smile that curled his lips was unmistakable. Balancing on one hand, he lifted the other to cup John's cheek before slipping it down to John's chin, using that leverage to hold the other man back when he tried to follow Bob's mouth when their lips parted. When John made a sound of protest, Bob smiled even more, moving back in and placing a series of kisses on John's lips that kept the other man wanting more. The sound of their lips meeting and parting filled the room with soft, wet smacking noises.

It didn't take long for John to get bolder, hand slipping up to the nape of Bob's neck, trying to hold Bob closer to deepen the kiss. Bob just nipped at John's lower lip, leaning back slightly and making John chase his mouth until their positions had switched with John practically on his hands and knees instead of Bob. But just when it seemed there was no farther back for Bob to move and John opened his mouth to lick at the seam of Bob's lips, the brunet put his hand on John's shoulder, gently holding him back.

When John's eyes opened, he looked almost dazed. "Bob. Bobby," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

"Please what?" Bob teased, lightly shoving John back off of where he was resting on his knees and making him sit directly on the bed. He wasn't pushing John away, however. Bob followed him down, climbing onto his lap.

John's hands fell to Bob's hips automatically, squeezing his flesh with a throaty groan. Just the proximity was enough to take John's breath away, the blond breathing harder, pink dusting his cheeks and his kiss-stained lips. His eyes were everywhere, taking Bob in - the little smirk, the way his eyes swirled with gold-flecked heat, and, most pressingly, the still-hard cock that stood proudly between Bob's legs, hovering mere inches away from John's own throbbing length.

"Please kiss me," John pleaded quietly, not bothering to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Bob obliged. He surged forward, capturing John's mouth hard enough that you could swear you heard their teeth click. Bob pressed his body firmly against John's, swallowing the other man's shaky moan. Their mouths only parted enough for you to see the flash of their tongues sliding against each other. John's hands moved farther back, grasping the other man's ass and pulling him even closer. When Bob started moving, slowly grinding his hips down against John's, your hand had slipped under your chemise, teasing yourself with featherlight touches against your still-sensitive clit.

By the time they broke apart, both were out of breath. Bob rested his forehead against John's, panting against his lips. John's eyes never left Bob's face, watching him with a look that was dangerously close to awe.

"Fuck," Bob breathed, biting his lip. "I've wanted to do that for months."

"Why didn't you?" John asked, his ragged voice thrumming through you, your clit pulsing under your own touch at the naked desire there.

Bob laughed, the sound joyous and carefree in the way he only ever seemed to be with you. And now with John. He laid a small kiss on the tip of John's nose, the same affectionate way he did with you. The sight could have made you jealous. Maybe it should have. But it only made your heart feel as warm as your body already was.

"Honestly thought you were straight," Bob admitted with a grin. "That kiss says otherwise."

"I'm straight-ish," John professed with a shrug. "Not exactly my first rodeo, so to speak."

You raised your eyebrows. This was news to you.

Bob, however, didn't look particularly surprised.

"Mmm, yeah, you don't kiss like I'm your first guy." Even from your angle, you could see that mischievous light in Bob's eyes that spelled nothing but the most delicious kind of trouble. It was the same look he got the day he spontaneously went down on you in the control room, making you cum mere seconds before the rest of the team walked in. The same one he had on the date where you made the mistake of wearing a low cut top and Bob ended up railing you against the wall of your favorite bookstore's bathroom. But this time? It was focused on John.

"Tell me about it," Bob murmured, leaning down to run his tongue along the shell of John's ear, making the other man shiver beneath him. "You fool around with a friend in high school?"

"Not 'friend.' 'Friends'plural; more than one," John admitted almost sheepishly. Bob rolled his hips, a little reward for the truth. He smirked when John moaned.

"What, were you fucking the football team?" Bob teased, biting and tugging at John's earlobe.

John let out a shaky laugh. "No. Not…not exactly. We'd go get drunk in the woods on the weekends sometimes. Just guys tailgating, drinking beer, and shooting the shit. Eventually, we'd start talking about girls, and one of the guys'd pop a stiffy. And, you know, no one around, so we'd…" John shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah."

"Give each other a hand?" Bob teased.

"Or…a mouth," he said with a coy smile on his face.

"Jesus," you said, voice practically a moan. Both men turned to look at you, one with a questioning look on his face, the other with a knowing smirk.

"Looks like we're not the only ones enjoying ourselves," Bob said, eyes fixed on the hand between your stocking-clad legs. Wordlessly, you spread them farther apart, giving your boyfriends a better view of your dripping pussy. In an almost Pavlovian response, both John and Bob licked their lips. It would be funny if it wasn't so fucking hot.

"You enjoy the taste you got, baby?" you asked John, making a show of swirling your finger around your sensitive nub.

"Yes," John breathed. Before you could say anything, he corrected himself. "Yes, mistress."

"Good boy," you purred, dipping your fingers through your slick folds teasingly before bringing them back up, continuing the circles around your clit. "Bob, I think he deserves a little reward for being so good. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bob said maybe a touch too enthusiastically. With two flicks of the wrist, he undid the snaps holding his cock ring on and carelessly tossed the black piece of leather across the room. He then shifted in John's lap, moving back just a fraction, ignoring the little noise of complaint the other man let out. Before John could voice his objections, Bob's hand closed around both of their cocks, stroking them roughly.

"Fuck!" John cried out, thrusting his hips up, his cock sliding against Bob's inside the other man's fist.

Bob was grinning wildly. His other hand came up to fist into John's hair, pulling a gasp from his mouth. Yanking, he tugged John's head to hover directly over his fist.

"Spit on it," he commanded. John obeyed, letting his saliva well up before opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, letting strands of his spit land on their already-leaking glans.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck my fist," Bob murmured in his ear, voice just loud enough to carry. Both you and John moaned at the same time, your free hand coming up to cup your breast through the lacy fabric of the chemise.

"You're leaking so much, baby. So wet for me. Practically dripping," Bob purred, starting to mouth at John's neck, nipping and sucking at the skin there. You could see him thumb the slick heads of both of their cocks in one swipe, and you followed the motion, rubbing firmly over your clit.

Eventually, Bob appeared to tire of John setting the pace. He pushed at John's shoulders, urging him down onto his back on the bed. Bracing one hand on John's abs, Bob rolled his hips, throwing back his head and letting out a long groan. He started riding John in earnest, rutting into his own hand, cock sliding easily against John's. It was mesmerizing. You could see all the muscles in Bob's ass and the backs of his thighs flex almost hypnotically as he started up a rhythm.

The thought occurred to you that that must be what John got to see all the times Bob fucked you in front of him, burying himself deep into your cunt. You gritted your teeth to hold back a particularly undignified noise, feeling yourself growing impossibly wetter at the thought. You'd believed John was just watching him spear you open, watching as Bob pistoned his cock in and out of you. But you knew in that moment that your blond boyfriend's eyes had flickered back and forth, watching the way Bob's cheeks dimpled with each thrust.

And now, John grabbed at those dimples, fingers digging into the flesh of Bob's ass, unconsciously aiding Bob's momentum. His face was slack, mouth open, watching the man above him with a look of pure awe, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Smiling down, Bob bit his lip coyly, a look deliberately designed to entice.

"Feel good?" he murmured teasingly.

"Yes," John panted, his hips twitching with the urge to grind up against him. His fingertips grasping at Bob's skin hard enough to leave white half-moons. "Fuck, Bobby. You're so goddamn pretty."

Bob's hips stuttered at the words, and he let out a moan that reverberated through the room. It was loud enough that you felt like you could feel it through the bed, rumbling through your body, making your cunt pulse with desire.

"So goddamn pretty," John repeated, unable this time to resist thrusting up into Bob's hand. Bob reacted like you imagined he would if John was inside of him, forcing down a shuddery gasp, letting out a breathless sound instead. "Look so fucking good on top of me. Fuck, I can't believe -"

But Bob cut him off, swooping down to capture John's lips with his in a deep, filthy kiss. He'd had to move both his hands to lay flat on top of the blond, but that didn't stop him from rutting down, grinding their lengths between their stomachs. John only squeezed his ass harder, soliciting another greedy noise from Bob that John eagerly swallowed.

Bob only pulled away to fasten his lips to John's nipple, jaw working as he suckled deeply, only stopping to switch sides, running his tongue over the neglected nub, and repeat the process. John's back arched against his mouth, exposing even more of his neck as he let out a wanton noise of pleasure.

This was everything you could have hoped for and more. That spark of desire you'd seen between them so many times had ignited into a raging fire hot enough to burn the room down, and you found you didn't give a damn about the flames.

The room filled with the sounds of grunts and moans, of flesh against flesh, and the wet schlick of your hand between your legs. When Bob started letting out little involuntary whimpers, the same sound you'd heard a hundred times before he spilled inside of you, you had to step in.

"That's enough, boys," you said, mustering all your resolve to fill your voice with authority. As much as you wanted to see Bob cum all over John's stomach, you couldn't let them derail your plans.

Complying almost instantly, John grabbed Bob's hips even harder, forcing the brunet to a stop. Bob sunk his teeth into the skin around John's nipple, fighting down the disobedient whine that threatened to escape his lips.

"Shit!" John grunted, snapping his hips upward, helpless to hold still under Bob's mouth. "I'm sorry, mistress," he panted, turning his head to lock his pleading eyes on yours. "Didn't mean to keep going."

The smile that tugged at the corner of your lips was fond but the gleam in your eye was predatory.

"You're okay, baby," you soothed, and John visibly relaxed, breathing out a soft sigh of distinct relief. Getting up on your hands and knees, you leaned forward, curling your fingers into Bob's hair, giving him a warning tug. "But you need to be a good boy and let go."

He did so, releasing John's nipple with a faint 'pop.' His teeth marks were visible, making a circle framing John's reddened nub. It was temptation incarnate. You couldn't resist.

Despite the awkward angle, you found yourself leaning down, blowing on the skin still glistening with Bob's saliva, making John whine and squirm, rubbing up involuntarily against Bob enough to make both men groan. You let out a deep, throaty laugh that seemingly sent a shiver up both men's spines.

After you positioned yourself back against the headboard, you patted the space next to you invitingly. Your boyfriends' eyes met, light blue gazing up into dark, and a look passed between them, one that you couldn't quite read.

Before climbing off of him, Bob pressed his lips to John's in, what was for them, a new kind of kiss. One that was surprisingly tender. John readily responded, eyes fluttering closed as he craned his neck up to lean into the kiss. It lasted for only a few scant seconds, but both men looked a little dazed when Bob pulled back.

Bob eased his way off of John, careful only to put his hands and knees on the bed and not accidentally elbow the other man in the stomach. He made a show of crawling the short distance, playfully laying kisses up your body to the inside of your ankle, the outside of your thigh, the back of your hand, the crook of your elbow, and the curve of your shoulder before resting his chin there as well, batting his lashes up at you.

You laughed, giving him a quick peck on the tip of his nose before capturing his lips in a brief, gentle kiss. When you pulled back, Bob gazed up at you with his heart in his eyes, his whole expression having softened from his previous teasing countenance.

"Love you," Bob murmured almost dreamily, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Love you too," you whispered back, pulling your lip between your teeth to fight the urge to give him yet another kiss. Instead, you patted the spot next to you by the headboard.

Bob didn't hesitate, putting his back against the wall, playfully draping his right leg over your left one. Giggling, you pulled your leg out from under his, doing the same thing right back to him. When you could feel him start to repeat the silly game you had accidentally started, a quick, painless pinch to his thigh stopped him in his tracks with a little yelp.

"Oh, stop it, you big baby," you laughed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed John wasn't laying on his back anymore. Sometime when Bob made his way up the bed, John must have moved, positioning himself back how he was before, sitting on his knees. But this time he was fully facing the both of you, a curious expression on his face.

It didn't surprise you to see a quiet look of affection when he was watching you, but seeing it there when looking at Bob was new. Or maybe it wasn't new at all. You'd seen him observe Bob before. But those times, his expression wasn't readable. It was like he had a wall up, his face borderline expressionless. This time, however? His guard was down, and he didn't hold back the small, crooked smile or the tenderness in his gaze as he watched Bob as the other man pretended to be wounded by your oh-so vicious attack.

You shushed Bob with a wink and a little nudge, clearing your throat and rolling your shoulders back to get back into character. Then you crooked your finger at John.

Wordlessly, he obeyed, slowly crawling up the bed while straddling your and Bob's overlapping legs. When he came to a stop, his hard length was pressed against your thigh, pink lips parted as he breathed deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth. You wished for a fleeting second that you thought to buy a collar for him. The image of tugging him into a kiss with one finger curled under fitted leather was deeply enticing.

So you used your favorite method instead, running your fingers through his hair before fisting a handful, relishing in his quivering gasp before pulling his lips to meet yours. He melted into you, letting your tongue ravage his mouth, each touch reinforcing that you were in control and he was just your plaything to be used. And, judging by his answering moans, John loved every second of it.

Taking his lower lip between your teeth, you bit down just hard enough to hurt, eliciting another delicious sound, soothing the ache with your tongue before you fully let go. You turned John's head to face Bob, who immediately followed suit, kissing the blond until he was breathless.

"You wanna make it up to me, baby?" you cooed at John. His eyes were blank for a moment, just blinking at you like you'd spoken to him in another language, one he was familiar with but couldn't quite place. "Gotta make amends for being such a naughty boy."

John nodded dumbly, little to no light of recognition in his eyes.

Bob beat you to the punch. "Use your words, Walker. You gonna make it up to her?" he coaxed.

"Make it up to us," you corrected, and Bob shot you a slightly lopsided little grin. "After all, he roped you into this."

"That's right. You gonna make it up to us, pretty boy?" Bob cooed, cupping John's cheek in his hand.

"Yes, sir," John mumbled, his words a little muddled but not quite slurred. "And ma'am. Yes, ma'am. Wanna make it up to you."

"Then do it. Make us cum," you said simply, spreading your legs invitingly. John's eyes flickered from your core, arousal wet and glistening in the dim light, to Bob's rigid cock, the angry red crown of which was sliding in and out of Bob's fist as he lazily stroked himself.

Despite being spoiled for choice, you weren't surprised when John maneuvered himself between your legs and wrapped his arms under your thighs, spreading you even further. If you weren't dripping on the bed by this point, you were sure you would be now watching John's eager eyes drinking in the sight of your bare, drooling cunt. You couldn't stop the gasp that escaped from your lips when John blew a stream of cool air across your heated flesh, sending a pulse of warmth through your body.

If Bob had tasted you like he was starved for you, John ate you like a man possessed. The second his tongue touched your slick folds, his mouth was everywhere. He lifted your hips like it was nothing, causing you to let out a little shriek and grip onto whatever you could for stability. That ended up being Bob's shoulder and the bedpost, clinging to them like lifelines as John practically picked you up. Bob coaxed you to lean against the headboard, resting your upper back against it while John supported your lower body with his hands and forearms alone.

It was messy and fast and loud and so fucking perfect. He wasn't gentle about it. His hands dug into your hips hard enough you knew there were going to be finger-shaped bruises by the morning. In his haste to devour you, he wasn't as cautious with his teeth as he normally would be, but the brush of them against you contrasted in a sharp but sweet way that only served to crest your pleasure even higher. John was everywhere, sucking and slurping and drinking you, going from thrusting his tongue deep inside of you to running tight circles around your clit to everywhere in between. He barely seemed to breathe, pulling back only for desperate, wet drags of air like a long-distance swimmer, too concentrated on your pleasure to care about getting any oxygen in his lungs.

By the time he lowered you back onto the bed, your head was swimming in a haze of ecstasy. You didn't even feel the fingers at your entrance until he plunged them inside of you. You arched your back, letting out a strangled cry as you raised your hips, still wanting more and harder. He worked you quickly, thick digits stretching you and curling to hit that spongy spot inside of you that made your vision go white at the edges. John slipped a third finger in, and you weren't even sure what sounds you were making, just that your throat was already sore from them.

He didn't even let up when your second orgasm of the night crested, hitting you hard and fast enough that you were gasping for air. John kept going, pumping his fingers into you, mouth wrapped around your throbbing, oversensitive clit. With each thrust, you felt something different, a strange new pressure inside of you like you needed to pee. You tried to warn him, but the words just wouldn't come out. You tugged at his hair, but that only seemed to spur him on, sucking hard on that little bundle of nerves until your third orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. Your thighs clenched tight around John's head, shaking as they kept his mouth pulled against you like that wasn't exactly where he already wanted to be. A different kind if pleasure hit, one that was hot and wet and explosive. With a wail, it burst out of you, soaking John's face and drenching the sheets beneath you with waves of your release.

You laid back on the bed, feeling completely boneless, your breath gradually returning to normal. You watched idly as Bob surged forward, pressing his mouth against John's, their tongues dueling like they were fighting over the taste of you. The blond only pulled away to check on you, gently stroking your skin, pressing wet kisses to your thighs.

"Doin' okay there?" John asked, his voice soft and low, just the barest hint of an accent peeking out. "What color are you at?"

"Green," you rasped out without hesitation. "So fucking green. Oh my God, John."

John beamed up at you, his smile proud without being too smug. He looked effervescent, practically glowing like you'd made him orgasm his brains out, not the other way around.

"That good?" he teased. Even in your winded state, you could hear the genuine need for praise behind it.

"Fucking…incredible, baby. Holy shit. Thank you." As you talked, Bob tossed John a washcloth from the stash you'd squirreled away in the bedside table. He hesitated for a second but wiped his face dutifully, carelessly tossing the cloth off the bed to land amongst all the discarded clothes.

"Pretty sure you meant for me to go back and forth between you and Bobby, but I was wound up a little too tight to multitask," John explained with a grin.

"I noticed," you said with a chuckle. You reached down to cup John's face, and he leaned into your touch, briefly closing his eyes. "That just means you'll get to focus fully on Bob."

"If…" Bob hesitated, biting at the inside of his cheek, eyes flitting back and forth on the bed, like he was searching for the right words. "If you want to. You don't…have to," he finished lamely, looking back up.

Blond eyelashes fluttered as John opened his lids, those sky blue eyes suddenly sharp and focused as they met Bob's sea blue ones.

"Do you really think…" John sat up, starting to climb over your and Bob's intertwined legs to fully face the other man. "…You could kiss me and touch me like that? And not let me at least return the favor?"

"You don't have to," Bob repeated weakly.

"I want to," John emphasized. He reached out, lightly putting his hand over the one on Bob's cock. Even from where you were, you could see the way it twitched under his touch. "If you want me to."

"Yes, please," Bob said breathlessly. John inched closer, resting on his elbows as he looked up at Bob through his lashes, a sultry expression on his face.

"Then move that hand, Bobby. Let me taste you."

Bob did as he was told.

John started slow. He placed a gentle, closed-mouthed kiss to the glistening head of Bob's cock before laying a trail of them down his shaft, pausing after each one. By the time John was lathing his balls with his tongue, Bob's whole body was rigid as he tried not to squirm. A few tentative strokes of his hand as John sucked first one then the other into his mouth, and Bob was white-knuckling the sheets and worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

Pulling back with a pop, John smirked how far Bob had come undone in just a few minutes.

"I wanna do this right, take my time with you." At his words, Bob's face scrunched up as if he was pained. But John continued, "But you've been worked up for long enough. No more teasing."

True to his word, John's lips enveloped the very tip of Bob's cock. His throat worked as he suckled at the sensitive head, drawing a whine out of Bob and an aborted thrust of his hips.

John didn't waste any time, slowly starting to inch his way down, taking more and more of Bob into his mouth until he inevitably gagged and pulled back with a gasp, eyes watering and lips wet. Even though he wasn't able to get down nearly as much as you could, it was still impressive. Bob wasn't exactly small, something that, according to him, the Sentry serum didn't affect. Yet John got a considerable amount in his mouth. But judging by the annoyed look on his face, he used to be able to take more.

"Easy there," you cautioned, stroking John's hair. "Take your time. You don't need to deepthroat him."

John glared at you, his jaw clenching stubbornly, and you couldn't help but laugh. "That wasn't a challenge, baby."

"It might as well have been," he muttered, starting to stroke Bob's shaft tentatively, rubbing his thumb over the frenulum right beneath the tip. A small gasp left Bob's lips, and John smirked up at him. "Feel good, baby boy?"

"Fuck," Bob moaned, jerking his hips up involuntarily. You couldn't tell if he was reacting to John's hand or the pet name, but you suspected it was a mix of both.

It didn't take John long to get back into the swing of things, bobbing his head up and down rhythmically on Bob's cock, his hand stroking the length he couldn't fit. Eventually, he grabbed one of Bob's hands, prying it away from the sheets and offering his head as a hand hold. Bob's fingers lightly gripped his hair, and John let out a pleased noise, Bob whimpering at the vibrations.

The scene before you was incredible: Bob with his eyes closed, chest heaving as he laid his head back against the headboard, his angry red cock sliding into and out of John's bright pink, abused lips. His chest heaved with each shaky breath, nipples hardened and begging for attention. He panted open-mouthed like he was winded and trying to catch his breath, his hand gripping John's hair more and more the closer he got to the edge.

And John was no better. Saliva slicked the bottom half of his face as thoroughly as your arousal had minutes before, but he didn't seem to notice or care. He didn't stop for breath. His nostrils flared each time his head rose as he forced himself to breathe through it. It was a beautiful sight - so much beautiful, barely sun-kissed skin. You could trace all the freckles down his body, from the little ones on his face, to the tantalizing one on his ear, down his neck and over his shoulders, sliding across his back and even on the rounded globes of his ass. You fought back the urge to touch, not wanting to disrupt him. But, by the way he rutted against the mattress in time with each dip of his head, John was probably too distracted to even feel it.

By the time Bob was close, it was glaringly obvious to both you and John. He was practically vibrating under John's mouth, eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted as he let out all the little noises he couldn't fight down - whimpers, whines, and breathy grunts. John sped up, hollowing his cheeks to increase the suction, big blue eyes watching Bob's contorting face with wrapt attention.

"Look at him, baby. Watch him make you feel good," you cooed at Bob, kissing wherever you could touch - his shoulders, his neck, his face. He obeyed, wrenching his eyes open, and gazing down at John with an expression that could only be described as ruined.

"Almost there, aren't you?" you purred, unable to resist the siren call of those dusky pink nipples, dipping your head to run your tongue around the peak of one.

Bob gasped, his hips trying to twitch forward, but John held them pressed down into the bed.

"Oh, fuck. So close," Bob moaned as a warning, weakly trying to pull himself out of John's grip. John only held him down harder, the muscles in his forearm flexing deliciously "John…Johnny…gonna cum," he whined.

You pulled back from Bob's chest just in time to see John's eyes roll back in his head, rutting down hard against the bed, moaning wantonly against Bob's cock. It was the first time you could recall Bob ever using John's given name, a fact that didn't seem to be lost on him. He only sucked harder until Bob let out a cry, hips jerking in spurts as he spilled down John's throat.

John didn't stop, milking Bob for each drop, until he started twitching from oversensitivity. When he finally pulled back, letting Bob's softening dick fall from his mouth, John barely had time to smile up at the brunet, opening his mouth to say something before Bob interrupted him.

He crashed his lips to John's in a frenzied kiss, licking into the other man's mouth like he was desperate for a taste of himself on John's tongue. John melted into him immediately, making soft, breathy noises as Bob ravaged his mouth.

Bob didn't even break the kiss when he picked John up and manhandled him onto his lap as if he weighed nothing. John let out an undignified squawk of surprise, eyes flying open. He went to pull back, but Bob cupped the back of the blond's head with his left hand, holding him firmly in place. John moaned at the casual display of power, eyes fluttering closed as he sucked on Bob's tongue.

Bob reached down to wrap his hand around John's cock, which was brushing up against Bob's stomach, leaving little streaks of precum there. But before he could, you grabbed his wrist. Bob pulled away, ignoring John's protesting whine, looking at you, eyes rounded with surprise at being stopped.

John was close. That much you could tell, judging by how much he was leaking and how it throbbed in anticipation of Bob's touch. And you wanted to finish the night off right.

Before Bob could ask, you dug around under your pillow, batting away the white clicker you'd given Bob what felt like hours ago and grasping the item you'd left there. Pulling it out from its hiding spot, you showed Bob the long, white cylindrical object. He blinked at it in confusion, still dazed both from the kiss and the orgasm. It wasn't until you pushed the power button and it began to rumble did the pieces come together for Bob.

The buzzing sound drew John's attention, and he looked at you in confusion until his eyes fell upon the wand vibrator in your hand.

"You did such a good job making it up to us, baby. Do you want your reward for doing so well?" you asked, your voice a husky purr.

"Yes. Please," John croaked out. "Please, mistress. 'M so close."

"Good boy," you cooed, kissing his temple as you situated yourself closer. "Bob, make sure you keep his hips still."

Bob nodded, licking his lips, a look of anticipation in his eyes. "Yes, mistress." His hands captured John's hips, pressing them against the bed.

When you pressed the rumbling head of the vibrator against John's cock, he cried out, overwhelmed by the stimulation. He thrust up against Bob's hold almost immediately, but Bob's grip held him firmly down.

"Color?" you asked.

"G-green," John stammered out. "Green. Greengreengreen! Please don't stop!"

And you didn't, moving the vibrator around, testing to see what spots made him cry out louder than the others. By the time you pressed the wand against John's frenulum, he was a babbling mess, drool and tears streaming down his face.

You hadn't given him permission to orgasm, so he held on tight. His whole body itself practically vibrated, spine straight and rigid, hands clenched, and toes curled as he fought the overwhelming desire to cum.

You inched the vibrator up, the rounded edge just barely touching the crown of his cock. John was shaking even more violently now, begging and pleading with you to let him finish.

You caught Bob's eye, and he nodded his head once. John had had enough. And you agreed.

"Okay, baby. It's time. Need you to cum for me." With your words, you pressed the speed button, turning the wand on an even higher setting.

John broke, throwing his head back as he let out a wordless cry, cumming in hard spurts that painted both his and Bob's torsos in his spend. You kept the vibrator going through it, flipping it back to the lowest setting as Bob stroked the shaft of John's cock, milking every last drop out of him.

Tossing the vibrator aside, you reached over to the other bedside table, grabbing another washcloth while Bob maneuvered John onto his back between you. Bob took the cloth from your outstretched hand, starting the work of cleaning everyone up while you laid down next to John, resting your head on his shoulder holding him close as he came down from his orgasm.

It felt so nice, so cozy. Even without a blanket, the heat you felt both from your space heater boyfriends and your previous exertions wrapped you up in its warmth. You weren't intending to sleep. After all, you needed to check in with both your boys, make sure they were feeling all right, and talk out anything that needed to be said. But your body seemed to have other plans.

You don't remember closing your eyes, and you definitely don't remember drifting off, but the next thing you knew, you were waking up. At first, you weren't sure what woke you. Someone had pulled the comforter up over you and John's hand was now intertwined with yours. You had apparently clung to his arm in your sleep, and he had made no attempt to extricate himself. Judging by the way his thumb idly stroked the back of your hand, John was happy to have you close.

That's when you heard what had woken you up - a hushed conversation. The rumbling of John's whispers would normally have lulled you even further to sleep, but it seems to have disturbed it this time. It took a little effort, but you tuned in, straining your ears to hear the words they spoke.

"…new for all of us. It'll take some time to adjust, but we did just fine after we all started cohabitating."

Bob let out a quiet snort, one that had John shushing him, using his free hand to lightly swat at Bob's arm.

"'Cohabitating,'" Bob said laughingly. "Riiight. That's a nice way to say we were fucking each other's brains out."

"Be quiet, you brat," John angry whispered. For a second, you thought he was genuinely mad and considered speaking up, but the soft chuckle he let out disabused you of that notion.

"If you call me a brat, I'm going to act like one," Bob warned. Your eyes had adjusted enough that you could see Bob lying on the other side of John, mirroring you. His head was on John's shoulder, arms wrapped around John's as well. Their hands were both under the covers, but you suspected John was holding Bob's just like he was holding yours.

"Don't tempt me," John said playfully, leaning down and kissing the tip of Bob's nose. The brunet scrunched it up at John in an expression of put upon indignation, which only made the other man smile more. "You're a cute brat."

Bob groaned quietly, making a show of burying his face in John's arm, much to the other man's obvious amusement. Bob's voice was muffled, but you could still make out his words when he said, "God, now there's going to be two of you saying shit like that."

"If it's any consolation, I've already been thinking it. Just haven't said it out loud," John added helpfully, only smiling even wider in amusement when Bob scoffed.

He tilted his head just enough to be able to eye John through the curtain of unruly brown hair that fell in front of his face. "That makes it worse," Bob muttered.

"Well, there is a silver lining at least. Now you don't have to act like you're not staring at my ass all the time," John said, not even bothering to hide the smugness in his tone.

That was enough to make Bob properly lift his head, glaring at John open-mouthed, unable to decide if he was playfully pissy or playfully surprised.

"You knew?" Bob hissed at him.

"You're not subtle, Bobert. I saw the where your eyes went when I'd wear shorts at the gym. Made sure to wear shorter ones just for you," he added with a wink.

"You asshole," Bob said, narrowing his eyes at John. When the other man just grinned harder, Bob stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry at him. You felt more than heard John's answering laugh.

"So childish," John murmured, inching his head closer to Bob's. The brunet blew another, smaller raspberry in retaliation.

"Can't help it. I'm a brat, remember?" Bob lifted his head, starting to lean in towards John, not close enough for them to kiss without the blond straining his neck and risking disturbing you, though.

"Yeah, you are," John said, fondness in his voice. They drifted nearer and nearer to each other, neither of them seeming willing to break the stand off. You couldn't help yourself.

"Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss," you chanted, and both men's heads snapped towards you. You didn't stop - you doubled down. "Kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss!"

"How long have you been awake?" Bob asked. "You were out like a light."

"Yeah, so exhausted from your long day of evil plotting," John teased.

"Long enough to clock the sexual tension," you quipped back. Both men had enough shame to look slightly bashful if completely unashamed. "Now, go on. Do it!" you urged. "I'll start chanting again."

Bob rolled his eyes theatrically, making sure both of you saw it but pulled himself up further on the bed to get closer to John. You thought you heard him whisper something, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, John spoke up.

"Well, if the lady insists…"

When they kissed again, you cheered, wolf whistling at them until they were smiling too hard to keep going.

"Better?" John asked.

"Much," you confirmed with a decisive nod of your head. Both men glanced at each other put of the corner of their eyes, a mischievous look on their faces.

Before you could open your mouth again, Bob shouted "Now!" and both men pounced on you, peppering your face, neck, and shoulders with obnoxiously loud kisses. You laughed, shrieking and squirming, halfheartedly trying to break free to no avail. You didn't really mind, though. There's no place else you'd rather be.

Divider Credit -> @/strangergraphics

Images in header are not mine

Cross-posted to AO3

Hope you liked it! Feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

Things between you and John were complicated. The same could be said about you and Bob. And Bob and John. Basically, all three of you were complicated—individuals who, when thrown together, only made things messier. There were no labels, no one belonged to anyone, but there was an unspoken understanding: the three of you were tied together by the same invisible, infinite thread.

Maybe it was that knowledge that had made Bob reckless—that had made him skip knocking when he got to your bedroom door. Or maybe this was just the way of the invisible string.  Maybe it had finally decided it was time to pull the three of you together.

It was something that had been tossed around in conversation, sure. A joke here, a flirtation there—but never something any of you had actually acted on.

It seemed the moment had finally arrived.

You still hadn’t stopped moving, hands braced on John’s thighs as you continued to lift your hips. You weren’t facing him—your back to the super soldier, your eyes on the wall. John always liked this position. He liked watching your ass as you rode him. 

And then your eyes had opened—and fallen on Bob, still lingering at the door. Your movements didn’t falter. Not even for a second.

It was as if you’d known he was there before you’d even seen him. Maybe you’d felt his eyes on you. Maybe you’d smelled his cologne.

You gave him a soft smile. It made Bob’s heart race—and his pants tighten.

“Are you coming in, or just gonna stand there like a creep?”

The words hadn’t come from you. They came from the blond beneath you.

Bob didn’t know exactly when John had noticed his presence—but it was probably long before you had. Bob blinked. Once. Twice.

Then he stepped into the room.

You tilted your hips, grinding down on John with a sharp roll that pulled a low groan from his chest. You gasped as Walker’s hands grabbed your ass, kneading the flesh roughly.

John let out a low laugh. “You gonna help, Reynolds?”

His eyes were on you—but the words were clearly meant for Bob.

The brunette took a step forward, not even realizing he’d done it until you called his name. His attention shifted from John to you.

“Close the door,” you said softly—your voice breathless, but commanding all the same. “Unless you want someone else to walk in too.”

He didn’t. He wanted the sight of you and John all to himself. And he couldn’t bring himself to feel selfish about it. Bob’s fingers fumbled for the knob, but he did it—shutting the door with a soft click behind him. His heart was hammering.

He’d seen you like this before. Well, not exactly like this—but close enough that he shouldn’t be so shocked by the sight.

But you seemed to have that effect on him. No matter how many times he saw you, you always managed to take his breath away.

It didn’t help that he was seeing John naked for the first time either—not after fantasizing about it for months.

It wasn’t clear exactly when he’d developed his infatuation for John Walker, but it was obvious it was there, even if he tried to convince himself otherwise.

Lucky for him, the feeling was very much reciprocated.

Bob made it to the edge of the bed. He stood directly in front of you, watching for a moment—the way your body moved, the way your breasts bounced with each lift of your hips.

Then his eyes darted behind you, falling on John’s face. He observed the way the blond’s brows furrowed as you continued to ride him.

He would have been satisfied just being a spectator. He’d been the third wheel after all. And as much as he’d loved to participate, he wasn’t sure he deserved it—or that you and John would want that.

“He’s watching you like you’re a goddamn miracle,” John murmured.

“Not just me, John,” you replied with a grin.

John’s eyes lifted to look at Bob, realizing what you meant. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. John bit his lip and smirked. Bob felt the air get tugged from his chest.

“You can touch me,” you said, voice low and inviting. “I want you to.”

There it was. The permission he’d so desperately craved—an invitation to participate. It was more than he could have ever wished for.

Bob’s hand came to rest on your shoulders first, fingers warm and gentle at first, then bolder. He let his palm drift down over your breasts, gripping tight. You gasped—part surprise, part delight—and it only made him bolder.

He knelt on the bed, body sliding in between John’s legs. He watched you as he leaned his head down, mouth wrapping around one of your breasts. One of your hands moved from John’s thighs to Bob’s hair, tugging softly. You clenched around John, causing him to chuckle.

The blond lifted off the bed, his chest pressing against your back. You hummed as he kissed your shoulder, his blue eyes watching Bob suckle on your breast.

“Bob making you feel good, sweetheart?”

The nickname caused you to clench around his dick again, and he smiled. You bit your lip, breath hitching as Bob’s mouth moved off your breast, moving upwards. His tongue shifted to trace gentle, teasing circles along your collarbone. John’s hands slid down your hips, fingers curling into the skin as he pressed against you, hard and unrelenting.

“Yeah,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Better than good.”

Bob’s lips brushed against your neck, his breath warm and ragged. You could feel him smiling against your skin. John’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to expose your throat. He lowered his mouth to your pulse point, sucking lightly.

Then Bob’s head nudged against John’s as they trailed kisses along your skin, and both of them pulled away. They looked at each other over your shoulder for a moment.

Then they both leaned forward, meeting halfway in a kiss. You turned your head to the side to watch, feeling Bob’s sweater against your chest and John’s bare skin against your bare back—sandwiched between both of them as they kissed.

What a wonderful thing.

Bob and John’s lips parted, the charged air between them thick with something unspoken yet deeply understood. Your breath caught as your body shivered between the two of them, feeling the warmth of both pressed close.

John’s hands left your hips, sliding up to cup Bob’s face instead, tugging him closer. Bob’s hand slid lower from your shoulders, tracing down your side until it found the curve of your hip, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.

“I want all of you,” you whispered, voice trembling but sure. “Both of you.”

You could feel the effect your words had on them. You could feel their muscles tense against you, the heat radiating from your bodies. The two men looked at each other and then back at you. No words were shared—they didn’t need to be. It was as if the three of you were so intricately connected that speaking was no longer necessary to communicate. 

Bob moved off the bed to shed his clothes. John kissed your neck before moving to nip at your earlobe. Your body shuddered as his hands moved against you, wrapping around your stomach. “Gonna need to switch positions, sweetheart,” he whispered against your ear.

You just nodded. You trusted John. You knew he’d do what was best for you—for the three of you.

Bob let out a soft cough, causing both you and John to snap your attention to him. John’s brain stopped working for a moment, eyes tracing over Bob’s body. You resisted the urge to smile. John hadn’t yet seen what was hidden beneath Bob’s baggy clothes. You had, of course, so the sight didn’t surprise you as much as it did John.

You felt John’s dick twitch inside you. You understood the reaction completely. You’d felt the same the first time with the brunette.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he, John?”

You knew Bob would flush from the praise. That was another thing Bob and John shared—they both loved you. And they both loved praise.

John’s eyes flickered between you and Bob, a slow smile spreading across his face. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly, voice low and rough. “He’s definitely something.”

Bob’s cheeks burned deeper, but he didn’t shy away. Instead, he stepped closer, the heat radiating from his bare skin almost tangible. John’s hands tugged at your hips, silently asking you to move off him. You did as he asked, groaning softly as his dick dragged against your walls. You felt empty without him inside you, but you knew it wouldn’t last long. You just needed to be patient. 

You stood on the bed, looking down at Bob. His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the mattress and onto the floor. Even once your feet were safely planted, he didn’t let go.

You caressed his cheek with your hand, pushing some stray hairs behind his ear. He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a moment.

John watched the scene for a while before lifting himself off the bed and moving to join the two of you.

Bob’s eyes snapped open as he felt John’s body press against his back, wrapping around him in a firm embrace. He tried to ignore the feeling of John’s dick pressing against his ass, but it seemed impossible. And then John’s hand moved to tilt Bob’s head toward him, pulling him into a rough kiss that made his body shudder against yours.

When the two men finally broke the kiss, John let his forehead rest against Bob’s for a moment before pulling back to look at you. You gave him a knowing smile.

“So, how are we doing this, John?”

John liked giving orders. Luckily, you and Bob were good at taking them—well, Bob was. You had your moments of defiance. But tonight, it seemed you’d decided to be on your best behavior. John was grateful for it.

John’s gaze swept between the two of you, his mind clearly running through possibilities. He had an idea—but to make it work properly, he needed you perfectly relaxed and more than ready for both of them. You’d been close to coming when Bob had interrupted, so the first step was getting you back to that edge.

John turned back to Bob. “You’re gonna taste her first.”

Bob’s breath hitched. His eyes flicked from John to you.

 “Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s already so fucking wet—you’ll love it.”

John had no idea just how true his words were. Bob loved eating you out—it was one of his favorite pastimes.

He looked at you next. You were already watching him, lips parted, pupils blown wide.

“On your back,” he said, low and firm. “Middle of the bed.”

You obeyed without hesitation, climbing back onto the mattress and settling against the pillows. You spread your legs just enough to be inviting—but not enough to give everything away. You gave them both your most sultry look. Not that you needed to. They were both completely whipped. 

“Go on Bob,” John said, “Take care of our girl.” 

It was clear Bob didn’t need more convincing. He moved quickly, climbing onto the bed between your legs. His hands gripped your thighs, strong and sure, and he dragged you down the mattress with ease until you were flush with his mouth. He looked up at you once—eyes dark, jaw tight with restraint. Then he dipped his head, and all restraint disappeared. 

John sat beside you on the bed, watching your face with rapt attention as Bob worked. You reached for him blindly, fingers catching his wrist. He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles one by one. It was a nice contrast to the intensity in which Bob licked at you pussy. He moved like a man starved, body tensing with every moan you emitted. 

You moaned when Bob’s tongue circled your clit, hips rolling up into his face. He didn’t pull away. He only held your legs tighter, like he didn’t want to let you go. And maybe he didn’t.

You were already so close. Embarrassingly close, honestly. But it wasn’t just the tongue—it was the hands, the mouths, the weight of John’s softness and Bob’s desperation. It was all of it. Everything. The months of tension coming to a head in the most perfect, surreal way.

John leaned down, whispering into your ear, “Think you can come on his tongue for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically, your thighs starting to tremble.Bob’s tongue flicked harder, faster, and that was it. You cried out, body tightening as you came, arching against his face. He didn’t stop—not until your hips jerked, too sensitive, and your hand pushed at his shoulder.

He pulled back slowly, lips glistening, looking up at you with blown pupils and flushed cheeks. He looked stunned—the way he always did after moments like this. A little drunk on the taste of you.

“She’s fucking amazing, isn’t she?” John asked, brushing his fingers through Bob’s hair.

Bob nodded dumbly, breathless. “Unreal.”

John kissed Bob, savoring the mixture of him and you on his tongue. Then John leaned in again, this time to kiss you—deep, possessive, tasting the heat on your tongue.

He craned his head to look at Bob, who was still kneeling on the mattress.

“You’re gonna fuck her first.”

Bob’s eyes widened slightly before trailing down to look at John’s cock. He was still hard. Bob was sure he had been hard the entire time. The tip was flushed, leaking with precum. He’d been buried inside you—possibly close to release—when Bob had walked in. It only felt fair that John would go first.

You seemed to have the same thought, your gaze flicking from Bob to John.

“John—”

“Not a request,” he said gently, but firmly. “I want to watch. I want to see both of you like that. Then I’ll take my turn.”

The way he said it made your stomach twist—in the best way.

Bob looked to you for confirmation, and you gave him a nod, reaching for him again.

“Come here.”

He crawled up your body, slotting himself between your thighs. You could feel how hard he was, how much he needed this. You cupped his face again, pulling him down to kiss you. Bob sunk into you with a groan, like he’d done it a million times before. Because he had.

John watched, eyes dark, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He sat back in the the bed, stroking himself slowly as Bob began to move. Bob moved like he didn’t want to miss a second—slow, deliberate, his thrusts deep but careful. His eyes stayed on you the whole time, wide with something like awe. Or maybe it was just pleasure. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hips meeting his, drawing him in deeper. He groaned, low and rough, forehead pressing against yours.

“You feel—fuck—you feel incredible,” he murmured, voice barely audible.

You smiled, breath catching as he angled his hips just right, hitting the spot that made your back arch.

“Oh Bob—shit—right there!”

Beside you, John’s voice cut through the air like velvet. “Look at you. Fucking perfect together.”

Bob’s thrusts faltered for a moment at the sound, his eyes flickering to where John sat. You turned your head just enough to see him—legs spread, hand wrapped around his cock, watching like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re not gonna last if you keep staring like that,” John said with a knowing grin.

Bob groaned, cheeks flushed. “Can’t help it.”

“That’s alright.” John stood and moved toward the bed. “I’ll help you slow down.”

You watched as he climbed onto the mattress behind Bob. The brunette tensed slightly when he felt John’s hands on his hips—but didn’t stop. If anything, the added presence only made him harder, needier.

John leaned down to press a kiss to Bob’s shoulder, lips dragging across his skin until he reached his spine. “Keep fucking her,” he whispered. “You’re doing good.”

Bob whimpered—not from the words alone, but from the way John’s hand slipped down to cup his balls, rolling them gently. The brunette bucked forward, and you gasped at the sudden depth.

“Jesus—John—”

“I said keep going.”

And Bob did—because how could he not? Your body clenched around him, slick and hot and aching. He drove into you again, harder now, more confident with John behind him.

You let your eyes flutter closed, soaking it in. The sounds—skin on skin, soft curses, breathy moans—filled the room like music. You felt worshipped. Consumed. Loved.

John’s other hand slid between your legs, fingers circling your clit as Bob continued to thrust.

“Can you give us another one, sweetheart?” John asked.

You nodded, already trembling. “Close—so close.”

“That’s my girl,” John said, fingers moving faster, more precise. “Let him feel you come.”

Bob groaned at the words, hips stuttering. “Please—fuck—please come.”

Your body locked up, stars bursting behind your eyes as you came again—loud, messy, clenching hard around Bob’s cock. He followed almost immediately, hips slamming into yours one last time as he spilled inside you, voice cracking on your name.

Bob collapsed against you, panting, face buried in your neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, holding him close. He was warm, trembling slightly, whispering something that you couldn’t quite hear.

John pulled Bob gently off of you, guiding him to the side. You reached for Bob’s hand as John moved between your legs. You were still twitching with the aftershocks, overstimulated and sensitive—but you didn’t want him to wait.

John pressed the head of his cock to your entrance, then pushed in slowly, groaning as he sank into your slick, stretched heat. He felt different—thicker, rougher in his rhythm.

You cried out, back arching as he bottomed out. “Oh, fuck—John—”

“I know,” he murmured, hand sliding under your thigh to hitch your leg over his hip. “You’re so fucking full, baby. Just take it. Let me feel you.”

You clung to Bob’s hand like a lifeline as John began to thrust. He wasn’t gentle—not like Bob. He was steady and possessive and rough in all the ways you liked.

Bob watched from beside you, eyes wide with wonder, still breathless, but transfixed by the sight of you being taken apart again. His fingers squeezed yours, grounding you as John fucked you hard, steady.

“Still with me?” John asked, leaning in close.

You nodded frantically. “Yes—please—don’t stop.”

His hand gripped your jaw, turning your face to his so he could kiss you hard. You whimpered against his mouth, overwhelmed, burning, alive.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he whispered. “Gonna give you everything.”

And he did. You felt it—his release, deep and hot, triggering a final, broken gasp from your lungs. You were wrecked. John didn’t pull out immediately. He just held you, chest against yours, hand brushing your hair back as your breathing slowed. Bob moved closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and then one to Johns. It wasn’t clear where one of you ended and the other began. Just a tangle of limbs and sweat and shared affection. 

The room was quiet for a long moment—just the sound of breathing and the soft thump of your heart trying to find its rhythm again. You lay between them, warm and boneless, your body still tingling, glowing in the aftermath.

John finally moved, shifting enough to ease out of you with a low hiss. He reached down to gently adjust your leg, pressing a kiss to your knee as he did. Then he lay back, settling beside you, his fingers brushing over your stomach like he was still memorizing you.

Bob’s head was tucked into the curve of your neck, breath slowing. You turned your face into his hair, still holding his hand. He looked up at you after a moment, eyes glassy, a little dazed.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, voice too wrecked to speak just yet. You smiled instead, soft and slow, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

John let out a quiet breath of laughter, voice low and warm. “You two,” he said. “That was… goddamn.”

Bob gave a breathless laugh, and then buried his face back in your neck, like he didn’t know what to do with the compliment. You felt something shift then—not just in the bed, but in the air between all three of you. This wasn’t just heat anymore. It wasn’t just pleasure.

It was something softer. More meaningful. 

John reached out, fingers grazing Bob’s shoulder before trailing over your collarbone. “You look so good together,” he murmured. “I mean it.”

You turned to him, eyes meeting his. There was no teasing in his voice now, no smirk on his lips—just honesty.

“You’re part of that,” you said.

He smiled at that.

The three of you stayed like that for a while. Wrapped in each other. Breathing the same air. No rush to move. No need to define anything.

Eventually, John slid out of bed to grab a warm towel, cleaning you up with surprising gentleness. Bob helped, too—still quiet, but more present now, kissing your temple, brushing your hair out of your face as you shifted under the sheets. You curled into Bob’s chest after, with John pressed to your back, both of them holding you like something sacred.

And maybe that’s what it was.

Not just sex. But something else. 

***

John and Bob may have their differences.

Different tempers, different styles. Always trading playful insults and pushing each other’s buttons just to see who’d flinch first. But there was one thing they could agree on.

You were theirs.

There was no question about that. 

They’d gotten closer over the last few months, closer than either of them probably expected. And part of that was because of you.

There was tension, unspoken things hanging in the air whenever all three of you were in the same room. But one thing was clear: they both wanted you. Bad.

Long story short, it involved a misguided game of truth or dare, a few too many shots of tequila, and your bed.

From then on, the three of you had developed a relationship of sorts. It was a little chaotic, but it was right. The team didn’t question it nearly as much as you thought they would. If it works, right?

The downside?

Now you had two boyfriends… who got jealous… often. And not always discreetly.

Even in public at a gala.

At an event like this, you were a natural. 

The way you worked the crowd was smooth and effortless. Everyone who crosses your path leaves absolutely charmed and perhaps a little in love with you. They love to see you shine, and you know how to give them just enough to leave them wanting more.

You’re laughing softly, mid-conversation with Bob by the hors d’oeuvres table, when someone approaches, trying to steal you away. 

“I’m with my friend—” you start, polite but firm.

“It’s fine,” Bob says quickly.

You paused, turning your eyes to him. Just to check. His eyes always told the truth, even when his voice didn’t.

“Are you sure?” you ask quietly, knowing that you’d tell the guy to fuck off in a heartbeat if Bob wanted you to. 

He nods, easygoing, though you didn’t miss the flicker of something beneath it. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have the hors d’oeuvres keep me company.”

You smile at his answer and say, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder, giving it a warm and reassuring squeeze. 

A few minutes later, you return to the champagne tower. Bob’s now joined by John, both of them watching the room like they’re on guard duty. The moment you’re back by their side, they relax, like a weight has been lifted off their shoulders. 

“I’ve done like ten tours of the room,” you sigh, exasperated but glowing from the attention. You could tell a story or two, and people loved to listen; you couldn't help it. 

You’re about to launch into a story about the lady you just met and her penchant for oversharing when the music shifts. A slow, romantic song hums through the room, and you perk up noticeably. 

“Who wants to dance with me?” you grin. Sure, you were tired, but you’d never pass up a chance to dance.

John steps in before Bob can even blink, smoothly taking your hand. Behind your back, he shoots Bob a smug look. However, you do hear a faint, “asshole”, under Bob’s breath. 

The two of you step out onto the dancefloor, lost in your own world, gazing into one another's eyes like the whole room around you disappeared.

You’re perfectly happy dancing with John, his hands steady on your waist. And you can tell from that little smile on his face, he’s been waiting all night to have you in his arms just like this. 

Then, as if the universe had a bone to pick with him, he hears a sudden, irritating voice. 

“Mind if I cut in?”

You glance between John and the stranger. John’s jaw ticks and you see it; it’s hard to miss. He’s not exactly the greatest at hiding his emotions, and his face was practically murderous.

The stranger is already reaching for your hand, almost expectantly.  Despite the no doubt impending consequences, you smile sweetly, take it, and let him whisk you away, much to John’s displeasure.

John stands there for a second, clearly holding back a string of words he probably shouldn’t say. Then, a bit stiffly, he makes his way back to Bob.

Bob’s still at the champagne tower, looking around like none of this is bothering him, but the annoyance that's radiating off of him is impossible to miss.

He lets John sulk for about two seconds before saying, flatly, “Good job.”

For someone supposedly so sweet and innocent, he could be really snarky.

“What did you want me to do?” John mutters, “Hit him with my shield?”

“...maybe.”

Meanwhile, across the dance floor, you’re laughing at something your new dance partner whispers, their hand a little too low on your back. Bob and John watch, hands clenched, as someone else makes you smile.

It’s the kind of sight that makes their blood boil.

The man makes eye contact with you as the song ends, still holding your hand just a second too long. You pull away with a polite smile, but there’s a glint in his eye, like he thinks he’s won something.

He watches you walk away, lingering on your ass after you’ve turned your back.

You return to Bob and John’s side, every step deliberate. Like you know, they saw the whole thing. Sometimes it’s fun to stoke the flames a little. 

They’re both standing there, silent.

Bob’s jaw is clenched just enough to be noticeable. John’s holding his glass a little too tightly, the champagne trembling slightly from the grip.

Neither of them says a word, but their expressions?

Stone.

“You two look like you just watched me commit a felony,” you say, utterly amused.

John hums, two seconds from forming a full-on pout. “Didn’t realise dancing involved you two being quite so close.”

“It was a waltz, how else did you want me to dance?”

“Just… can we talk for a second? In private?” Bob asks.

***

“So… what do my favourite superheroes want?” you ask, voice sweet as you relish the moment. 

They’ve cornered you in a broom closet, looking like two unhappy puppies, shoulders tense, eyes doing that thing where they can’t meet yours for too long.

“We just want to talk,” Bob says, dancing around the issue like it's not painfully obvious.

But they can’t hide anything from you. Not for long.

You narrow your eyes, your smile slowly stretching across your face like the sun coming out after a storm.

“Oh, I see what’s going on here,” you muse, wagging your finger at them. 

They both freeze, and you’re so utterly pleased with yourself you can’t hide it. 

“You want me,” you continue, closing the distance between you and them, practically purring with each word you say, “all to yourselves.”

“I could feel your eyes on me. Following me around the room all night, undressing me every chance you got.”

Seeing them tense up a little, as if fighting the need to take you right now, you lean in close enough that they can smell the perfume they helped you pick out.

“You didn’t bring me in here to talk, did you?”

John flashes a handsome smile, and you know you’re in for it. “We didn’t.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Bob pulls you in and kisses you deeply before John can. He’s been dying to get his hands on you since he saw you on that dancefloor, no—since before you left the tower.  The moment you showed them what you were planning to wear to the gala, they practically melted into the floor. 

You looked good enough to eat. 

You hold onto him, fingers tangled in his shirt and practically holding on for dear life as you kiss him back. You rarely see him this worked up, practically growling into your kiss, declaring you as theirs, but you don’t hate it. 

Quite the opposite. 

Not to be outdone, John presses in behind you, holding your waist real tight. You don’t even try to hide the desperate groan you let out as you feel the light brush of his lips against the nape of your neck. 

As they lavish you in kisses, their hands exploring every part of your body, you feel your knees buckle. The only thing keeping you up at this point is their bodies. They have you sandwiched between them, body to body, skin to skin. You can’t think of a better place to be. Maybe you need to make them jealous more often. 

Bob pulls back from the kiss, eyes dark and full of wanting.

“No one can touch like we do,” Bob states like it’s a fact. 

“No one can,” you agree, struggling to catch your breath, head not just in the clouds but the stars. 

“And no one else is allowed to, understood?” John adds, toying with your clothes, as if saying it wouldn’t be long until they were a puddle on the floor at your feet.

“Understood.”

***

After a long talk, you all emerge from the broom closet, trying to smooth out your clothes and not look nearly as wrecked as you feel.

John follows, tie loosened. Bob's behind him, hair a complete mess. Your legs are definitely not cooperating the way they should.

Yelena’s the first to spot you.

You all try to play it cool, and your attempts to act normal are in full effect. Casual smiles, fake small talk, pretending like you weren’t just fucking a few feet away. 

She doesn’t even need five seconds.

Her eyes flick between you: John’s crooked tie, Bob’s messy hair, your buckling legs.

“In public?” Yelena groans disapprovingly, arms crossed like a disappointed parent. “We can’t take you anywhere.”

BUCKY

bucky wants his fingers in both of your holes

bucky fucking your throat

bucky would never leave your clit alone

bucky fucking his thick ass cock into you

this is bucky’s favorite punishment, and you love feeling the weight of him holding you down

the feeling of your dildo against his cock inside you always gets bucky so weak

BOB

teasing bob and watching him jerk when he cums

bob can never stay still in your lap, especially with a plug in

videos bob sends you when you’re away

fucking bob’s ass while he fucks you

doing this to bob except he wouldn’t be able to stay still, and he’d be a million times more whiny

JOHN

john always makes a mess on your pussy and he always cleans it up with tongue, too

laying across john’s lap while he spanks you and plays with your pussy

john could play with your pussy for hours to feel the way you squirm against him

making john cum just by licking his tip

this is john’s favorite way to fuck your mouth, choking you while leaning down to mouth at your nipples

SENTRYAGENT

bob loves holding you close while john does all the work

^^^ pt 2