#sicu

“Thank you,” you say with a big smile, tracing your hand down the guy’s polo. “You look pretty nice yourself.”

He grins like you just said the funniest thing. “Yeah?”

“I mean, this color looks great on you,” you say, nodding emphatically. Tracing your palm down to his bicep, you add, “And, like, hugs you in all the right places.”

“Yeah, well,” the guy says, his hand on your waist coming up to just under your tit. “Can’t say that this top isn’t doing anything for me either.”

You hum appreciatively, casting your gaze across the crowd to see if Steve or Robin are paying attention. Because as much fun as it is flirting, you don’t actually want the guy’s hand cupping your tit through your shirt — not when Steve’s been tweaking your nipples all evening, even going so far as to pull you into a room for a minute to mouth at your breasts before sending you back out with the top clinging to your spit soaked chest. Not when there’s two people here who you’d much rather have playing with you.

But—

You don’t see them.

Steve’s not in the corner he was in just minutes prior, and Robin — well, you haven’t seen her in nearly an hour, anyway, but you’ve gone to enough of these parties to know that one of them is always keeping an eye on you.

(And not because they don’t trust you, but they’re not exactly stupid about the reality of sending you into a crowd wearing next to nothing.)

Your head swivels, the guy in front of you completely forgotten as you search for your friends, panic beginning to bubble in your alcohol soaked stomach, because you actually don’t want this guy to be flirting with you, not if you have the option for something better, not if—

“Hey, babe!”

You sag with relief when the sound of Robin’s voice precedes her lithe hand smoothing across your back, her fingers digging into your waist as she not-so-subtly pulls you from the guy.

“I was going to head to the bathroom real quick — walk with me?”

You glance up at Robin through your lashes and nod, not sparing the guy a backwards glance as she drags you through the party, parting the crowd like the Red Sea and manhandling you up the stairs. 

A shiver runs up your spine when she leans in real close and whispers, “That was really stupid of you, babe.”

You stumble, barely catching yourself on the rail, and look back to see a heated expression in her eyes. “What was stupid?” you ask innocently.

Her fingers tightening on your waist is the only response you get.

She throws open a door to your left and shoves you in, and you’re entirely unsurprised to find Steve leaning against the wall of a bathroom with his arms crossed and a stern furrow to his brows, but you don’t even have time to pout (or worse, beg for forgiveness) before the door is slammed shut and Robin’s spinning you around, pushing you up onto the counter next to the sink as her lips press into yours.

You sink into the kiss immediately, intoxicated by the taste of her vanilla chapstick as you bring your hands up to her face, desperate to keep her there as long as possible. But because it’s Robin, she clearly has other plans, which are only made all the more evident when your legs are parted and the little skirt she’d pressed into your hands just hours prior get flipped up.

Steve makes a discontented sound when the cool air hits your bare pussy.

Robin pulls back, glancing down as she gathers your wetness on the tip of her fingers, letting out a harsh noise as she asks, “Can’t stop yourself from being a little slut, huh? Get some drinks in you and you’ll throw yourself at anything that gives you attention? Flirting with that asshole knowing that you didn’t have any panties on… and it made you so wet, huh, baby? Did it make you wet knowing that you were being a bad girl?”

You nod dumbly, suddenly dizzy with need when she circles your aching clit, and Steve winds his hand through your hair, tilting your head back to look at him when he demands, “Did we or did we not tell you to stop letting your dumb little pussy do the thinking for you?”

“You did,” you breathe out with a sigh, Robin’s fingers slipping inside your entrance.

“And did you listen?” Steve continues.

You shake your head, and his grip tightens — a warning, because you know he needs a verbal response — and you force out, “No, Steve. I didn’t listen.”

A nip on your thigh draws your attention down as Robin hovers close to your weeping pussy.

“Looks like you need another lesson,” she says, twisting her fingers until your hips are jerking off the counter, a whine spilling from your lips. “Since it didn’t stick the first time.”

You don’t have time to process her lowering her mouth to your clit before Steve’s yanking your stop down, letting your tits pour out into the cold air. His lips descend to one nipple — cruelly as his teeth scrape against the sensitive bud — as he pinches your other one between two big fingers, teasing and rolling and tugging like they aren’t already sore from his earlier ministrations. A choked moan is forced from your chest when he sucks your breast further into his mouth, pulling back and releasing it with a wet pop before doing the same to your other breast.

And Robin, clearly, isn’t happy that he’s distracting you from her when she flicks her tongue over your clit, and Steve has the foresight to slap a hand over your mouth before you’re too loud as a pathetic whine is pulled from your lungs. She sighs into your pussy, pressing down until her nose is nudging your clit, her tongue dipping inside and gathering the wetness there before pulling back, making a show of how much you’re gushing around her before diving back in with reckless abandon, not bothering to be quiet as she tongue fucks your sensitive pussy, rubbing your clit with a rough thumb in a way that you protest even if all three of you know that you love it when they’re mean to you.

Between that, and Robin’s mouth, and Steve sucking bruises into the sensitive skin of your breasts, it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to overwhelm you, coming out in muffled, choked cries as you shake and shake and shake against their combined hold, burying your face into Steve’s neck as Robin holds your core even tighter to your face, lapping up every last drop until your whines finally quiet.

With one last kiss given to your clit, she releases your pussy, her fingers coming up to spread your wetness across your cheek as she pulls you from Steve, standing up to hungrily press her mouth to yours, her tongue entering as you gasp. The taste of yourself on her lips is intoxicating and she’s not shy about making sure you get the full experience, teasing her tongue against yours until you’ve swallowed every last drop, tears springing in the corner of your eyes when she pulls away.

You whine, chasing her lips, greedy with the need for more, but she only delivers one, quick, harsh slap to your pussy — smiling when you jolt — before stepping away, asking, “Did you think I was going to be the only one punishing you?”

“What?” you ask, dizzy and dumb from your orgasm.

She doesn’t answer, though, and the next thing you know, Steve’s strong hands are pulling you from the counter and spinning you around, smoothing up your spine until you’re bent over. Your mouth drops open in a silent oh as he pushes your skirt up, and your legs clench together at the sound of his belt coming undone.

“Steve,” you whine, blinking your wet lashes up at him through the mirror. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” he coos, nudging your ankles further apart.“What do you want?”

“Sensitive,” you say, shuddering when he drags the fat tip of his cock through your folds. “’s too much.”

The two of you know that’s a lie, and Robin snickers from her place against the wall. 

“It’s too much?” he repeats, mocking. His blunt head breaches your opening and you let out a loud moan. “Well, it wouldn’t be a punishment if it weren’t too much, baby. Now be a good girl and let me use your tight pussy.”

He slams all the way in with one, quick thrust, and you let out a loud sob as the pleasure begins to build, feeling so, sofucked out already, every coherent thought slipping from your head as you grip the counter at the brutal pace he sets. 

You press your forehead against the cold formica, spit dribbling from your mouth as quiet, oh, oh, oh’s leave your lips, but Steve clearly isn’t pleased with this outcome. He fists your hair and pulls you up until your chest is pushed out, wrapping a thick arm around your neck to keep you in place as he grunts out, “Look at how wrecked you are already, baby. Look at how well you’re taking my cock, how your pussy was made for me. Watch how I punish my dirty little slut.”

“Please,” you moan, fucked out and incoherent as he continues to thrust up into you, his hips slapping against your ass.

“You like that?” he gasps, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “You like it when I use you like this?”

You nod, and his arm tightens on your neck. 

“Words,” he reminds you.

“Love it,” you gasp out. “Don’t stop, please.”

He huffs out a laugh, and you completely lose yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts, pleasure washing you away as he bullies his cock in and out of you. At one point, his other hand drops down to your core, two fingers running tight circles over your clit and you squeal, jerking in his grasp but he only holds you tighter, practically lifting you from the ground to keep his pace.

“You gonna take it?” he grunts, hooking a hand under your knee and pulling it up. “You gonna let me come in your pussy? Feel me dripping out on our way home?”

A choked whine leaves you as you nod, crying, “Please, please. Need it, Steve.”

“Need what?”

“Need your cum,” you moan, head tilting back onto his shoulder. “Need you to cum in me.”

He grins at you in the mirror and pulls you into a rough kiss, his hips stuttering, warmth spilling inside as he cums, and he gives a few, weak thrusts before he pulls out entirely. You can already feel him dripping out as you sag against his hold, fucked and worn out but feeling so, so good.

Robin’s the first one to move, coming around to your front and righting your shirt with gentle hands, stroking her hand across your face when she asks, “You alright?”

You nod, humming, your eyes slipping closed.

Steve’s chest rumbles with silent laughter.

Together, the two of them fix your clothes and smooth down your hair, Steve throwing his jacket over your shoulders and zipping it up, Robin’s hand soft in yours as she guides you down the stairs, your thighs wet from Steve’s release as they usher you into the backseat of the Beamer.