#winterboneless

A glass of water appeared in your vision and you cast your eyes to your fiancé before downing the liquid quickly. You sighed in relief.

“Thank you. This room is absolutely stifling.”

“Here I thought it was just my presence.”

You snort and hand him the empty glass.

“I could never be bored in your presence, James, no matter what you think,” you tell him before taking him in.

James Barnes, your town’s most eligible bachelor, and a holder of a very large estate, was the most eligible bachelor, is dressed in a smart suit with black tails behind him and a bowtie to match. His blue eyes are slightly shadowed in the light and they make him look even more alluring with the slight smirk on his face.

“I am a lucky man.”

“You better not forget it, or I might just leave you,” you tease.

He fakes a gasp as he holds the glass close to his chest.

“My love you wound me.” He casts his eyes around the room. “Which one of these insufferable fools would you leave me for?”

You also cast your eyes around the room for a few moments and you spot the lord of the house, Ivar, sulking away in a corner with a half empty glass of whiskey. You grin a bit as you turn back to James.

“Well, there’s a lot of qualities and responsibilities that I’d need to replace you,” you start and rock on the balls of your feet, as much as the shoes allow. “First, he’d have to be able to support me and whatever endeavors I hope to achieve. Secondly, he has to be attractive and fun. He can’t sulk away the day. Finally, he has to have an open mind. I have ambitions and dreams and maybe I want to cause some trouble too. He has to help.”

James nods as he twirls the stem of the glass between his fingers.

“Hmm, well, I do believe you’re out of luck here sweetheart. None of these men here have all three qualities that you desire. I guess you’re stuck with me.”

He grins at you and you flush at his gaze as you know what that look means.

“Behave, James. We’re in public,” you whisper as he draws you close to his side.

“Maybe I just want to have a little bit of fun.”

The band concludes with the song and you applaud politely with everyone else as they take a break. You kiss James’s cheek, as the sound of scraping chairs and hurried footsteps around you gives you an opportunity to lean away from his promising touch.

“Will you get me more water? I’m parched.”

James nods and then goes off into the crowd. You take a moment to look for Lord Ivar again, but he is gone from his spot in the corner. You frown for a moment and then hear the signs of squeaky wheels halt at your side.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he says, and you turn to see him beside you. You start into a curtsey. “You don’t need to do that, you know.”

You smile coyly as you dip back down anyways, just to torture him with the neckline of your dress.

“It is your family home, my lord. It would be impolite to not pay my respects,” you say and complete the curtsey before standing back up.

“And because it is my home, I can command you to do certain…acts,” he teases back.

You fight the flush that tries to crawl its way under your skin.

“Of course, my lord,” you drawl. “But I always make you pay for it later.”

You wink at him and then casts your eyes around the room to make it seem like you and the lord are having a simple conversation, perhaps about the artwork lining the walls. No one needs to know that you’ve been here may times before and you’ve memorized the lines of wallpaper meeting together and the places of frames, even when they are taken down for cleaning.

“Has there been any news about my father’s statues? I thought that you would have told me something by now…” you enquire.

Your father conserved ancient marble statutes and once he had died, since he had no male heir, they were sold at the house auction, breaking your heart. Before you had met James, you spent quite some time looking for them, but you hadn’t been able to find them. Upon James introducing you to Ivar, and learning about his connects, he put out enquiries into them. He had found them two months ago but no new information had been provided since then, leaving you antsy.

The squeak of leather alerts you to the fact that he’s shifting in his seat, either from discomfort from the topic or from the pain in his legs. If this was any other situation, you would help him, but you cannot. No one can know.

“You know I cannot talk about that. Only James is privy-”

“To that information, I know. You always say that,” you finish and sigh before looking at him again. “You know my background. My father didn’t educate me in conservation for years just for you and James to disregard my experience, even in our….relationship. It isn’t fair.”

“Can you believe that we are trying to protect you?”

“No. If you wanted to protect me, you never would have asked me to risk my reputation every time you ask me to come see you. James and I will be married, Ivar, and I don’t know where that leaves you.”

You look away again at the many pairs of feet that are lingering by the drink table or swaying to an unheard song on the floor.

“I understand that you are angry at me for not indulging you, but there are certain things a lady of your disposition-”

You can’t help but laugh at that and then you stare at him again, making him stop.

“Don’t pull that with me. I’m not your mother. You cannot command me to do anything.”

“Watch your tone, woman, or I’ll-”

“What? Hmm?” You stare him down. “What will you do to me? Punish me? Arguing with you is punishing enough and I will not do it anymore, even if you want my forgiveness.”

He snorts.

“Forgiveness? Why would I want that? Have I slighted you, my darling?” He asks with a slight rage burning behind his eyes, begging you to keep going, but arguing with Ivar always ends in someone’s feelings getting hurt and you are not in the mood.

Enraged, you look away from him, just as James returns.

“I’m gone for two minutes and you two are already at it,” he comments and hands you the refilled glass of water.

You down it quickly again, feeling the water cool your anger, but not entirely.

“I want to leave. I’m tired and annoyed,” you address James, ignoring Ivar completely. Two can play at that game.

“You will come back tomorrow and we can-” Ivar starts, and you whip your head around so fast it makes you a bit dizzy.

“I am not cattle to be herded. You will do your best to remember that my lord. I am going to be a duchess and you will show me the respect I have earned.”

He opens his mouth to counter back, but he is stopped by James.

“That’s enough, both of you. If I knew that you two were going to be at each other again, I never would have suggested that we come. My love, let us go and, maybe, we will return tomorrow with cool heads. Agreed?”

“Ever the logical one,” Ivar sneers.

“Ivar,” James says sternly, and shuts his mouth again.

James turns to you.

“Agreed?”

You nod curtly and hand him the empty glass again. You know that Ivar will not say that he agrees but he might if he decides to behave.

“Alright. Let us go before the storm kicks in.”

James leads you away from the crowd of bustling dancers as the music starts up again and you don’t bother to turn around to see if Ivar is watching you go. You doubt he even cares.

On the carriage ride back, you’re abnormally silent as you look out the window. Your annoyance has calmed but it still lingers, even in the cool night breeze.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you tell James as you know he wants you to, at least, say something.

“I’m sure he’ll be sorry in the morning.”

You snort again.

“When Hell decides to freeze over, then maybe then there will be a chance of him apologizing, and actually meaning it.”

“(Y/N)…” James sighs and from the corner of your eye, you see that he has turned to look out the window on his side. “I don’t understand why you two fight so much. There’s nothing be gained from it.”

You swallow and blink back the tears.

“I know.”

You argue because most of the time you don’t believe that Ivar truly loves you as he says he does and when you argue, at least you can see some emotion laced in his words and in his eyes.

“Will you sleep on it? I can come get you in the morning and we can have breakfast at that café you like and discuss it then,” he suggests gently.

You nod.

“Alright,” he concludes.

Fifteen minutes later, the carriage rolls to a stop in front of your home but before you can get out, he stops you. James kisses your hands.

“My love, please think on it. You and I both know he loves you, and don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true.” He kisses your forehead and opens the door to help you back down onto the gravel road. “I love you and no matter what happens, that will never change.”

You nod again and give his hand a squeeze before parting.

“I love you, James Barnes. Always have, always will,” you proclaim softly.

You’re rewarded by one of his dazzling smiles and as you lay in bed that night, you wonder about the future and how uncertain it all seems.

********

At that same moment, Ivar sits at his desk in his study tapping his pen against a piece of paper that has many scribbled and struck out lines on it. He cannot seem to find the right words to apologize or tell you how he feels, even when he knows you’re only trying to help.

He balls up the piece of paper and throws it into the fire before he sighs. He looks at the picture of you on his desk and gently strokes the image of your cheeks.

“What am I to do with you, my love?” He asks himself softly.

He looks at the clock on his desk just before he hears the small bells chime for midnight. Maybe he’ll have a better idea in the morning. He swallows at that and downs the rest of his whiskey before he stares back at the picture.

Right then, he knows what he has to do, and he can only pray that his hands can keep up with the words flowing from his mind.

********

You debated going with James in the late morning, but the argument could not be left unresolved or else bitter feelings would grow between you and Ivar. You are both very stubborn but driven people and you two were bound to clash every once in a while. James always has to play Switzerland, the neutral ground, to make sure that you two didn’t reach the point of no return. That only happened once, and you and Ivar didn’t speak for two weeks. You can’t even remember what that argument was about. That’s how silly it seems.

You sigh a bit as you look out the window as his manor comes into view.

“Remember-” James starts as he’s adjusting his cuffs.

“I know. Be nice, smile. Be a duchess to be.”

James sighs a bit, but you don’t have the energy to respond to that. What you do have is curiosity as you see the servants bringing in a wooden box, and by the sounds of their grunting, a very heavy wooden box. You frown as the carriage rolls to a stop in front of the manor.

The footman helps you down as James rounds the carriage to come to your side.

“What is this? Did Ivar mention anything to you?”

James shakes his head and once the box is securely inside, you enter the manor. The manservant is inspecting the states of the boxes and is making notes in his book as he spots you. He bows to you both.

“Your grace, my lady. Lord Ivar is in his study,” he says and you both nod as you make your way to his study.

“This is very odd,” you whisper to James as he just smiles a bit. You frown again. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing,” he chuckles. “He’s smarter than I thought is all.”

Now you’re even more confused, but Ivar’s study door is open and the conversation halts. Ivar looks up from the paper he’s studying and looks back down before gesturing for you two to come in.

As you enter, you see papers littering the floor around him and you can only imagine the state under his desk. He isn’t looking up, but you take in as much as you can.

“Have you slept?” You ask gently, your argument almost forgotten.

“No,” he speaks, and you want to protest but stop as he speaks again. “But you will see why. Come with me.”

He sets the pen down and wheels out from his desk and in front of you and James. He stops at the door and looks back at both of you.

“Well, come on. Hurry up so I can sleep this day away.”

You roll your eyes and takes James’s hand as you follow Ivar back out to the main hall where the boxes have been arranged along the sides of the walls deliberately. You can then read the words that are stamped onto the fronts of the boxes that read fragile in Italian. Your heart leaps in your chest.

“Ivar-”

“Shh, let James open them first before you get too excited.”

Ivar gestures to the crowbar that is resting on top of one of the shorter boxes and James takes off his jacket and hands it to you. You take a step back and your heart flutters with nerves and excitement.

It takes James a moment to creak open the front of the box and the protective stuffing comes pouring out, revealing the smoothed marble of one of the statues, completely unharmed.

“Oh,” you exclaim, and James moves aside so you can investigate.

You almost start to cry as you move away some more of the stuffing to see the face of the statue looking out over your head. You gently stroke the marbled cheek and let out a sound between a choke and a sound of exclamation.

You turn to Ivar.

“How did you get them here so fast? I thought that they had been lost or something.”

He shifts in his seat again, this time from discomfort as pink decorates his cheeks.

“You were right last night. I know they were your father’s greatest possessions, besides you of course, and…..I had lost them for a while there during transport and I didn’t want to tell you in case something had happened.” He meets your eyes. “I didn’t want to disappoint you and…..I’m sorry for being so snippy lately. I’ve been worried about them. I managed to send a letter to the dock master late last night when he was on shift and he said he was going to write me because they had arrived around ten. I had them delivered here as fast as he could manage it.”

You rush over and hug him tightly, despite his chair. You press kisses all over his face.

“Oh, Ivar. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I cannot tell you how much this means to me.”

He smiles, a real one, and he strokes your cheek.

“You’re welcome and I am sorry.”

You look at each other for a few moments before James speaks.

“I guess it won’t be a cold day in Hell after all,” he teases.

           It was no fun being horny in a house with two of the most beautiful men you’d ever met in your entire life. Add to this frustration that you were on your period and you were ready to jump out of your skin.

           You’ve tried everything. Vibrators, the shower head, your own fingers. Nothing was as good as the feeling of Bucky’s chest pressed to your back as he took you from behind while Ivar took you from the front. You want to hear the slap of Bucky’s skin on Ivar’s ass. You want to feel cold metal fingers press into your backside. You want to taste Ivar’s precum as you pop him into your mouth. You want to see Bucky’s cock in Ivar’s hand as Bucky twitches and writhes beneath him. You want to smell the musk of the room after you’ve all been thoroughly fucked.

           You let out a vicious growl and slam the refrigerator door shut. No chocolate in there either. “Angel?” Bucky calls. You turn to face him. “God Bucky!” You hiss, turning from him. “Put some fucking clothes on.” You brush past him, desperately trying not to look at his shirtless body. Getting to your room, you slam the door shut and throw yourself on the bed. This just wasn’t fair, why did your period have to be so irritating?

           You’re in your room for ten minutes before the door opens. “Seriously?” You snap, glaring at Ivar. “You’re being a bitch.” He says, crawling into the room. He doesn’t use his crutches when he’s at home. He lifts himself onto the bed, and lays next to you. “Bucky’s too nice to annoy you, I’m not. What’s wrong?” Your hiss at him and roll over. He growls and pulls you close to him. “Did I do something again?”

“Leave it.”

“No, tell me. Did Bucky do something?” You refuse to answer him. He leans forward and bites your neck. You squeal and turn over to glare at him. “I have ways of making you talk,” He threatens. He leans down to kiss you, but you stop him. “I’m on my period.” You explain. “So you’re ways of making me talk are going to have to wait.”

           Ivar looks at you, brow furrowed in confusion.  “What does you being on your period have to do with anyhting?” He leans in again, but you stop him. “Ivar enough,”

“Do modern women not have sex on their period.”

“Regrettably no.” you mutter. “Well, it’s a good thing Ivar’s a fucking Viking from two thousand years ago and I’ve been periodically frozen for several decades.” Bucky says, sauntering into the room. “Oh God, not you too.” You groan. Bucky settles on your bed, throwing Ivar’s legs over his own. “Angel, you’re being particularly cranky, and unusually rude. That means one of us, or both of us, is going to have to fuck you to put you in a good mood.” You say nothing. The thought of fucking your boys is very appealing. You want them so bad your cunt hurts, but for some reason, you can’t find it in you to make the first move.

           Bucky heaves a sigh. “Fine, Ivar and I will just have to have fun without you.” Ivar eagerly scrambles up to settle in Bucky’s lap, pressing a kiss to his lips. You sit back, resigned to your fate.

           The boys tear at each other, desperate to get clothing off. Bucky, the most impatient of the two for the moment, throws Ivar next to you, literally tearing his shirt in two. He doesn’t wait for Ivar to get used to his sudden shirtless-ness before tearing Ivar’s sweats in two next. Bucky then busies himself with attacking Ivar’s throat in kisses. You have to press your thighs together, trying to relieve the ache. Could either of them really not mind fucking you on your period?

           Bucky moves southward, leaving bite marks on Ivar’s skin along the way. He settles between Ivar’s legs and licks the bead of precum off Ivar’s tip. Both hum in appreciation. Bucky sets a slow pace for Ivar, running his tongue from base to tip, only popping the head in his mouth.

You smirk, this is the first time you’ve seen Bucky take is time with Ivar, usually he also had you to contend with. You knew Bucky and Ivar took time to be alone with just themselves, they did the same with you, but to know about it was one thing, seeing it was another. This also meant you were in a position to be in charge for once. Your smirk grew into a grin. Would Bucky let you be in charge? It’s rare, but you have to try it. “Oh, come on Bucky,” You say. Two sets of eyes snap towards you. “We know how much of a cock hungry slut you are,” You run your fingers through his soft hair. “Take all of Ivar in.”

The boys freeze. Bucky spends all of three seconds trying to figure out if he actually wants to follow orders before opening his mouth to take Ivar. The boy next to you moans, throwing his head back on the pillow. “That’s it Bucky,” You say, getting off the bed. You start rummaging through your drawers for something. Finding it, you pocket it and lay next to Bucky. Your is mouth right next to his ear. “I know my Big Boy can take more.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair again. “You’ve got such a big fucking mouth.”

Bucky comes up for air, gulps, and goes back down. “Relax,” You instruct. “don’t fight it, but don’t force it.” He slips down a little. “That’s it, that’s my Big Boy.” You leave him for a second, taking your surprise from your pocket. Spreading the lube over your fingers you continued to instruct Bucky on how to properly suck Ivar off. The poor boy is whimpering, fisting your sheets in an effort not to squirm.

As he hits the base of Ivar’s cock, you hear Bucky choke, and tears spring to his eye. “Don’t panic,” You tell him. “Come up slowly, good boy.” Bucky lets Ivar’s cock go so he can breathe, a thin trail of saliva connects his mouth to his boyfriends cock. “Don’t you look so beautiful.” You coo, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Can you continue?” Bucky gulps, nods, and brings Ivar back into his mouth.

“You’re doing so good Big Boy.” You sneak your hand underneath his sweats and dive straight for his asshole. Not expecting it, he tenses, watery eyes looking at you. “Relax Big Boy.” You soothe. You spread the lube over his hole, prepping him for your finger. Bucky shifts so you can get better access. Pressing a finger into him, his eyes flutter close. He lets go of Ivar’s cock to let out a moan.

           You pump your finger in and out of Bucky a few times before adding another finger. “I didn’t say you could stop cock gobbling.” You remind him. Bucky nods, “Ok,” He pants, rolling his hips into the bed for some much needed friction. “Ok,” This time, he’s much faster when he pulls Ivar down his throat. You look up to Baby Boy to see his eyes screwed shut. Between whimpers he’s muttering something under his breath, Bucky’s name if you had to hazard a guess. “Look at what you’re doing,” You whisper in Bucky’s ear. “Look at how prettily our Baby Boy comes undone.” Bucky groans, looking at Ivar above him.

           You watch them for a while, taking your time with Bucky, throwing out compliments and encouragement. You alternate your kisses. Ivar’s thigh, Bucky’s temple. It takes a surprisingly long time for either boy to cum. Bucky is first. His orgasm hitting him with a shout. He grinds himself into the bed while you keep your steady pace. When he’s done, he finishes off Ivar, who cums with a shake so violent you’d think he was having a seizure.

           Bucky pulls away from Ivar, mouth still filled with the sticky white of Ivar’s mess and crashes his lips into yours. You moan at the taste of Ivar, swallowing what you can. When you pull back, your face is a mess, as is Bucky’s. You dip down to lap at the cum dibbling down the sides of his chin.

           When you’re done, you get up from the bed, intent on washing off your hands. Bucky grabs your waist and settles you in his lap. “You aren’t going anywhere.” He growls. “Bucky,” You whine. “I’m on my-”

“I just cum swapped with you, do you think I care?” He situates you how he wants you. Your legs thrown over his thighs and spread as wide as he can make them go. Ivar crawls from the bed and sits in front of you. Bucky’s metal hand comes to rest at your throat. “We’ve going to fuck you so good Angel.” Bucky whispers. Ivar is already tugging at the band of your sleep shorts, it doesn’t take him long to get them off, along with your panties.

           You can hardly believe what’s happening. You watch as Ivar kisses up your thighs, leaving love bites along the way. “Hold on Baby Boy.” Bucky instructs. The lovely thing about having long limbs is that Bucky can scoot you forward on his thighs, giving him enough space to reach your ass. You jerk as you feel his hand, wet with the same lube you used earlier, press against your asshole. “Now,” Bucky commands. Ivar does as told, parts your lips, and dives straight for you clit. You let out a strangled cry.

           You have to admit, the first five minutes has you on sensory overload. Bucky’s ever frosty metal hand squeezing your throat, the warm fingers of his other hand fucking your ass, and Ivar’s tongue swirling itself around your clit just fries your circuits. Then, you come back to reality and begin to squirm and moan. It doesn’t take you long at all before your shaking orgasm takes you.

           When you come to, Bucky his telling you how good you were, while Ivar is smiling up at you, looking demonically angelic, if that were possible. The bottom half of his face covered in your blood. You wanted to kiss him God do you want to kiss him. “Fuck me,” You say, voice hoarse. “What was that?” Bucky asks, smirk evident. “I said fuck me. Hard.” It’s all it takes before Bucky has you laying back on the bed. You can hear Ivar scrambling to join you.

           “You don’t give orders,” Bucky says, tearing your shirt from your body. “I do.” He leans forward to give you a bruising kiss. He pulls back to bite your shoulder. You cry out, shivering when he laps at the bite to soothe the sting. You see Ivar next to you, head resting on the pillow to watch Bucky. You lean in and kiss him. You don’t think too much about where that face has been, but damned if you didn’t enjoy the kiss.

           You feel Bucky tug your legs open. You let out a surprised yelp when you feel another mouth latch on to your pussy. You look down to see Bucky’s eyes looking deviously at you. He gives you a hard suck, enjoying the roll of your hips. Ivar is next to you, praising you, pressing kisses to your shoulder. It takes you barely a minute to cum this time. When you’re finished, Bucky dives for your mouth, adding his own bloody mess.

           Bucky settles between your legs, and begins to pump his cock. “What are you doing?” you ask. “You don’t think I’m actually going to reward you after that little stunt, do you?” He says smirking. “I can’t encourage such behavior.”

“But,” You say. Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Please,” You whine. You know Bucky is about to ask you to use your words, but you beat him to it. “Please fuck me. I want your cock, please,” You turn to Ivar, grasping his hand, he looks alarmed. You never beg this quickly. “Please,” You kiss him, damn near sobbing. “I need it, I need to be fucked. Please.”

“Hush Angel.” Bucky says, leaning over and giving you a much softer kiss. “Baby Boy and I will take care of you. I promise.” You whimper and nod.

           It takes a minute, but Ivar and Bucky maneuver you into position. Ivar is the one that starts first. He slowly enters you from behind. You squirm, trying to get comfortable. It’s not longer painful having the boys take you this way, but it can take some time to get used to. Ivar kisses your shoulder, setting a slow pace for you. He whispers loving things into your ear as you adjust to his size. When you nod, Bucky joins you two, hovering over you and slipping into your cunt.

           You claw at his shoulders, bucking your hips. This sweetness is nice and all, but it sure as hell isn’t what you want. Your boys get the memo and speed up. This time, it’s not Bucky hand that wraps around your throat, it’s Ivar’s. “Look at you,” Bucky growls. “So fucking greedy.” Ivar’s hand squeezes around your throat, cutting off just enough air for you to see spots. “Is this what you want, you little slut?” you moan and nod. Your grunting and groaning, enjoying the sounds of skin slapping skin. This is what you needed. “Is it good, being fucked like this? Being used for pleasure?”

“Yes,” You whimper. “Yes, it’s so good. I love it.” Buck falls silent, concentrating on the angle of his hips. The room is filled with the sounds of grunting, and the slick sounds of sex. You somehow manage to last more than a minute this time, but just barely. “Fuck!” You yell, rolling your hips into Bucky, then back into Ivar. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your final orgasm hits you hard. You claw at the sheets, legs shaking, bringing your boys over the edge with you. Someone is mumbling something in your ear but you can’t come to care, it feels too fucking good.

           When you come back to earth, all three of you are panting hard. You’re being crushed under Bucky’s weight, but it feels too nice to complain. You wrap your arms around his shoulder. You make sure to turn to give Ivar as good a kiss as you can given the awkward angle. “We need to clean up.” You say. “In a minute,” Bucky says. “Let’s just relax.”

He pretended to be asleep for a few moments more, telling himself that he was waiting for Bucky to leave the room and not because he enjoyed sinking into the warm blankets of the bed and feeling long, defined fingers play with the strands of his hair. No, of course it wasn’t because of that. What the hell.

He knew it was Bucky by the way his hair tangled easily between the plates of the fingers of his metal arm. That, and the way he pulled a little harder than you would. Bucky wasn’t afraid to use his strength on him, he discovered last night, when his breathing had been stuck on your lips and his hands in Bucky's arms.

And now Ivar was pretending no, he wasn’t about to have an erection just because someone caressed his hair. No matter how hungry for the human touch he was, Ivar refused to fall so deep. Even if it meant a second round – third, in fact –.

When it became clear that Bucky wasn’t going anywhere, Ivar shifted between the sheets, like he was waking up just then. The hand on his hair retracted, and Ivar forced himself to swallow the feeling of emptiness that settled in his chest.

He fought the sheets for a few more moments before finally laying on his side, the tip of his nose brushing Bucky's ribs. His body radiated warmth and smelled of peppermint soap mixed with cigarette smoke. Their eyes connected through the soft light of the lamp on the ceiling.

"Good morning, angel face" Bucky was sitting against the head of the bed, one hand still stretched around Ivar and the other holding his phone. The screen was illuminated in a text chat. Ivar tried not to look, but from the quick glance he had he knew that Bucky was talking to Steve. He also saw the words 'incredible', 'fingers' and 'toast'. "You slept for a long time. We didn’t wanted to wake you up."

Ivar tried to concentrate on the sound of heavy raindrops pounding against the windowpane instead of how bright and blue Bucky's eyes looked from this angle.

He licked his lips in an attempt to moisten his dry mouth, "Well, you did it anyway with all that pulling." Ivar wanted to bang his head against the headboard, but he still went ahead with his verbal vomit, "I thought you were going to tear my head off."

Ivar wanted his mood and personality to disappear between the sheets too, but Bucky just chuckled, "I thought you liked it hard."

An unwelcome warmth began to rise through his chest and down his neck, and Ivar struggled against it when it started to climb his face as well. He was not blushing. No. Never. It wasn’t happening.

A scream from somewhere in the apartment saved him from having to respond. That must be you, no doubt. Ivar rushed to straighten up and look for some clothes, but Bucky put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Wait for it."

Ivar looked at him in disbelief for a few seconds before another scream made him pay attention again, "Goddamn eggs!"

Bucky laughed when he saw Ivar's expression, coming a little closer to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. Ivar ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach when Bucky pressed a kiss to his temple.

"We should go help her."

Bucky left another warm kiss on his skin, this time a little lower, near his ear "Uh huh..."

Ivar closed his eyes and savored the sensation. Bucky went down a little more, this time stopping at the curve of his neck and leaving a wet, hot kiss there. Ivar bit his lip to stop his moan when Bucky opened his mouth and sucked hard.

"Stop licking me. It's disgusting," he said suddenly. Of course, his natural way of being intervened in his relationships and ruined them at the worst possible time. As usual.

Bucky didn’t take it seriously, however, because he gave Ivar another warm kiss, this time on his shoulder, and stopped there for a few moments. Ivar could feel his smile against his skin.

"You're right, we should go make sure she doesn’t burn the house."

Bucky quickly untangled himself from the sheets, standing up and picking up a shirt from the floor. Ivar wasn’t sure if it was his or Bucky's, but he didn’t care. Bucky had something to cover, that was something less to distract himself with.

Bucky searched through his drawers for a few seconds before throwing a fresh, clean shirt in Ivar's direction, without even bothering to look to see where he was throwing it. Ivar caught it easily and hurriedly put the shirt on. No matter how comfortable he was in his own skin, so much nakedness was going to drive him crazy.

Bucky opened the door of the room and turned in his direction, "There are some pants in the drawer over there," he pointed with his chin to a drawer on his left, "But, you know, you can always go out without clothes."

Bucky had already closed the door when Ivar threw a shoe at him, his laughter mingling with the music he now recognized as jazz. Ivar tried not to smile, but it was too early to spend his mental strength on something so small. If the heavy rain from outside doesn’t stop soon, he would have to spend the day with you both. And oh, gods, Ivar wanted to run away as fast as his legs would allow.

As he sat there, listening to the rain fall and the voices of the two people he had been drooling over for months, Ivar felt ... disoriented.

What was he supposed to do now? Is there a rulebook for one-night stands adventures that Ivar didn’t know about? Of all the impulsive and stupid things he did, he always, always had a plan to escape.

But now he couldn’t run away. Sure, he could pick up his clothes and go out the window. He would carefully descend the fire escape, taking care that his cane didn’t make much noise against the metal. Maybe call his brother to come pick him up a couple of blocks from the apartment. Yes, that sounded like a good escape plan.

But Ivar didn’t want that plan. Yes, his brother would ask him a million questions that he would probably never answer, and yes, maybe he would slip and break his neck as he went down the fire escape wet with rain, and yeah, why not, he would catch the worst cold in his medical history since he was eight years old. Nothing that he hadn’t faced before. He fled many times and had faced worse than the current situation.

The problem is that, oh, gods, Ivar wants to stay.

He can count the things that have really made him feel happy or safe with the fingers of his hands. The thought of going back to his cold, sterile apartment right now stirs his stomach in a way he only feels when he has a particularly aggressive conversation with his brother Sigurd. The smell of cinnamon and honey was slowly coming into the room, the soft music and the animated voices calling him through the closed door.

Ivar found his leg brace hanging from the bedpost and put it on quickly before standing up. He looked for the pants that Bucky had pointed out to him. They weren’t in that drawer, but the one on the right. He looked around the room for his cane but couldn’t find it; he doesn’t remember where he had left it the night before, too busy taking off his clothes and keeping up with the two pairs of hands running through his skin. Ivar refused to recognize the chill that went up his spine at the thought.

When he already had something to wear and his heartbeat slowed to a normal pace, Ivar opened the bedroom door and walked out into the hall, stumbling along.

Bucky and you were running around the living room, going in and out of the kitchen with plates full of food and glasses of juice and milk. They were putting everything on the coffee table in front of the ugly yellow sofa, moving and arranging things so that all the food would fit on the small table. Ivar was petrified.

The storm was still banging against the windows of the apartment, the soothing sound of the rain combined with the soft voice of Billie Holiday. Ivar loved the rain; he liked the sound of falling drops and how cold and grey the day was, a perfect excuse to stay at home and not interact with anyone. This particular storm had darkened the sunshine almost completely; It almost felt like the afternoon already came.

Some brightly colored candles were scattered around the room and the kitchen. The department was relatively small; It's not like you or Bucky had much money to afford a bigger house. There was a hammock in the corner of the room, next to the balcony door. The curtains had yellow and pink floral prints and there were more plants than Ivar thought was comfortable. In short, it was the perfect apartment for a young couple of hippies like you and Bucky.

He stared at them a little more before realizing they weren’t going to realize his presence on their own. He stepped out of the shadows of the corridor and cleared his throat, though he would have preferred to stay in the dark a little longer. Watching them chatting so animatedly was giving him a strange sense of calm that seemed to dominate his growing anxiety.

You smiled as soon as you saw him, leaving on the coffee table the plate of pancakes you were holding to go towards him. Ivar instinctively recoiled when you approached, mentally striking when your step faltered a little. Ivar forced himself to straighten up and approach you on his own. He didn’t know your smile could become brighter, but boy did that little movement make it.

Ivar had a tendency to see things where they weren’t, but he was almost certain that you buzzed a little when you spoke to him, "You sleep like a log, did you know?"

Ivar tried to not grin so widely, but he couldn’t help but do it anyway. He must look so ridiculous to them, all blushed and shy. This was not a normal behavior in him, and damn, he hated to be like this in front of them, of all the people of the world.

You took his hand –a tingle went up his stomach to his chest– and pulled him to the couch, pushing him into his seat and running to get more food out of the kitchen. It seemed to Ivar that there was already enough food for an army, and that he was used to seeing delicacies in his own house.

Bucky was arranging the glasses on the coffee table so they wouldn’t spill, "We did a little more than we usually do for breakfast. We always make three rounds of pancakes; I hope you don’t mind eating a fifth."

"When are pancakes a problem?" He leaned back on the couch and stretched his legs, hiding his expression of relief at the movement. He had already seen his cane; It was besides of the coat rack in the entrance.

Bucky let out a laugh, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and his shoulders shaking. Ivar clenched his hands in his lap and told himself that the sound of his laugh was horrifying and that his smile made him want to vomit.

You came out of the kitchen holding a plate of toast in one hand and butter in the other. You sat next to him and somehow arranged the toast on the table next to the other things. As far as Ivar could tell, there were two plates full of pancakes, a dozen toasts, four eggs and so much bacon. Not to mention the jug of orange juice and the milk box.

"'A little more than usually', huh?"

You shrugged your shoulders and turned on the TV, playing an episode of Jane the Virgin, "Blame the beast by your side. I have no idea how he turns all that food into muscles."

"It's an art that you have refused to master, doll." Bucky took a plate and began to put food on it. You did the same, putting three pancakes and two toast on your own plate. Bucky gestured to Ivar, "It’s not poisoned, angel face. Help yourself."

Ivar ignored the nickname –he was blushing again, but he ignored that too– and tentatively took a plate. He sat there watching the food for a few moments, alternating his gaze between the bacon and the people next to him. Neither you nor Bucky was paying attention to him, too immersed in the TV or in his own food.

Ivar forced himself to relax and take some food. He served two toasts, a little scrambled eggs and three strips of bacon. Nothing out of the ordinary. He layed back on the couch and tried to concentrate on the TV and not on the way your thigh brushed against his gently, or on the soft sound of the music floating in the room or the way you and Bucky laughed loudly every time they broadcast the Old Spice commercial.

"Terry Crews is a gift for this world."

Ivar was really trying to ignore the way his stomach jumped every time you or Bucky spoke to him.

And fuck, he felt ridiculous. Finally he had managed to have something with the two people he is a little –just a little– in love with after months of settling for his undeserved friendship. He had embraced every moment he had had with them in recent months, telling himself that there was no way in the world that either of them cared about him, let alone both.

Ivar played with his food during half of the show, nodding and growling whenever you or Bucky talked to him. He was trying  to not show how delicious his breakfast was at the same time that he was planning another escape. The rain continued to fall heavily outside, the thunder echoing in the small apartment and momentarily illuminating the room through the balcony doors. There were a couple of candles around the apartment, most of them flavored. Ivar knew first hand that you liked to leave those little decorative details around, things like Wal-Mart paintings or ornaments.

By the time Ivar finished his plate, you and Bucky had already finished another portion. And there was still a little less than half of what was initially, so Ivar stretched to eat more.

He wasn’t used to an environment like this, at all. Sure, he had had extravagant breakfasts, but those moments felt cold and sterile compared to this. The family reunions he only attended to please his mother was always more a facade than a friendly meeting. Ivar spent most of the time tense and ready to respond to anything that offended him, which was usually almost everything.

Ivar hadn’t experienced that kind of security and familiarity since leaving his parents' house to live on his own. He had been feeding on anything canned that could be cooked in a microwave for the last eight months, and boy did he miss the homemade food.

You frowned when the Jane the Virgin episode ended, throwing your arms up in the air and growling in frustration, "They can’t leave me like that!"

"Of course they can, babydoll. When has a show satisfied us?" Bucky took a bite of pancakes and a drink from his glass of milk, changing the channel to a Scooby Doo schedule. Bucky smiled, "Nice."

"Hey, guys..." Ivar tried to say.

"I'm going to clean the kitchen a little, if you don’t mind. Babydoll, it's your turn to wash the dishes." Bucky stood up and picked up the empty plates while you complained, entering the kitchen. Both you and Ivar couldn’t help but notice the muscles in Bucky's back when he left the room. Ivar connected his gaze with you, and immediately looked away.

He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed for the first but surely not the last time in the morning, "I'm sorry. I don’t want to exceed my limits."

When Ivar looked at you, however, there wasn’t anger or discomfort in your expression. In fact, you were making that gesture of confusion that you make every time you didn’t understand something, with the eyebrows pressed together and the head tilted to the side. Ivar didn’t want the word 'adorable' to be close to his usual vocabulary, but that was the best word to describe you when you made that expression.

You bit your lip in confusion and shook your head, "Why would you be exceeding–"

Before you could finish speaking, however, a thunder rumbled through the air and inside the apartment, shuddering everything inside him. And then, all the lights had gone out, the music player was no longer playing, and the voices of Shaggy and Scooby had disappeared.

Bucky's scream sounded from the kitchen, followed by the sound of something falling to the floor, "The power went out!"

"No shit!" Ivar shouted back.

Through the light that the scented candles could give him, Ivar could see the way you shrugged your shoulders and bit into a strip of bacon, "It taked quite a while."

If there was any hope left that Ivar could implement some of his escape plans, there was no longer any. If there was any doubt in his mind about his feelings for you and Bucky, now he didn’t have any. Ivar was definitely in love with you both. And oh, fucking hell. Why.

He had helped Bucky finish cleaning the kitchen, and then he helped you wash the dishes, avoiding talking most of the time, just nodding each time you spoke to him. The least he wanted was to let you both see how bitter he felt.

Ivar Lothbrok didn’t feel 'fond' for anyone other than his family, and sometimes he didn't even know if he really loved them anyway. Ivar Lothbrok didn’t let some sexy hippies call him 'angelface' or 'love', much less make him the best bacon in history after the best night of his life. Ivar Lothbrok didn’t sit on an ugly yellow sofa in pajamas that weren’t his to watch Jane the Virgin and eat tons of pancakes. But, above all those things, Ivar Lothbrok did not fall in love.

And yet here he was, fighting so that his knees wouldn’t shake and his heart wouldn’t stop every time you or Bucky said his name.

Oh, gods, he’s pathetic.

With the help of a flashlight, you and Ivar rummaged in your closet for the box where you had your candles. Ivar doesn’t know why you needed so many candles, but he wasn’t going to complain in a situation like this. As they rummaged through your closet in search of the candles, Ivar found a couple of books of ancient mythology and religions. His pagan ass fell in love a little bit more with you right there.

Between the three of them, they began to light the apartment slowly. It felt weird; it couldn’t be more than noon, but the apartment was darkened by the rain. There wasn’t a single ray of sun coming from the sky, and with how strong the storm sounds, none would come out for a while longer.

Bucky inspected a candle carved with the drawing of a constellation, "I never understood your witch phase, but right now I'm glad you had it."

You rolled your eyes and snatched the candle from his hands, putting it back in the box, "It wasn’t a 'phase', James, it was very real. It still is." It was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes.

"Oh, please. You wore black from head to toe and said that colored stones that you bought from an imitation of Dumbledore gave you power."

Ivar lit the last candle and made sure it wasn’t in danger of falling before joining you and Bucky on the bed, sliding under the covers with them. He let you take his hand in yours and give it a distracted squeeze, too concentrated on the ridiculous fight with your boyfriend, "You couldn’t understand it even if I explained it to you with apples, so I’ll just ignore you."

"Like I need to know about chakras and auras and that shit."

You forgot to ignore him almost immediately, "One more word and Ivar will be the only person in this room who will receive these titties."

Bucky narrowed his eyes, "As much as I adore you, believe me, doll, I can live very well only with the ass of this cuteness right here."

Ivar had already resigned himself to blushing when he was near these two, but he didn’t expected it anyways. Before he could say a sarcastic answer, you pulled away from Bucky and snuggled closer to Ivar, pulling your legs over his and hiding your face in the curve of his neck. Ivar tried to act indifferent, but he was melting a little inside.

You moved a little more against him before speaking again, "How sad, he’s all mine now. Go away, beast with the metal arm." You mumbled as you hid a little deeper in Ivar's neck. Your breathing tickled just below his ear, making him shudder a little. He ignored the feeling in favor of paying attention to the discussion. Seeing you and Bucky fighting was one of the most entertaining things he could witness.

Bucky wasn’t taking any of your shit. He leaned over Ivar and you, supporting his weight with one hand. Bucky settled closer to you and Ivar, his body molded against your back and thighs. Ivar could hear your breath catch when Bucky pressed his lips to your neck, the same way he had done with Ivar that morning, a few hours before. "Why don’t we let Ivar decide which one of us is going to keep him for the rest of the day, huh?"

Ivar choked on his own breath for a moment. He was going to do what? "Keep me?" Was all he managed to say, for the concern of his partners. Bucky took a lock of your hair and began to play absent-mindedly with it while waiting for an outcome of the discussion.

"Yes, angelface, keep you."

You smiled malevolently, biting your lip and bending over him, brushing his lips with yours, "For the rest of the day."

Ivar just stared at them with wide eyes. Now he was panicking.

You felt how his body tensed suddenly. Moving away from him, you studied his face carefully, looking for a sign of discomfort, "Did we say something that bothered you?"

Ivar wanted to hit himself because oh, fucking hell, no. You hadn’t done anything he hadn’t longed for during months, and there you were, asking him if he was okay and if he felt comfortable. When was the last time someone asked permission to affect their feelings? He didn’t deserve you or Bucky, who was now leaning over you too, his frown in sudden worry. Ivar wanted to kiss the grimaces on their faces until they disappeared.

Ivar tried to not hesitate when he spoke, although the mere fact of being able to hesitate made him nervous, "No, not at all. It's just that... " You two have made me happy in a way that I didn't even know was possible and to be honest I don’t understand why you’re still talking with me, "I don’t know what to expect from this. I mean, we're still friends, right?"

You and Bucky looked as confused as Ivar felt. They exchanged glances for a couple of moments before you spoke again, "Yes, Ivar, we are... friends." You paused before continuing to speak, like to see his reaction, "But what happened last night changed things a little."

Ivar shook his head in confusion, traveling his gaze between your eyes and Bucky's, "What happened last night was just silly, we were playing–"

Bucky interrupted him, shaking his head and looking at him anxiously, "It wasn’t a game, Ivar. We have loved you for months. We hadn’t made any movement because we thought you wouldn’t be interested in having ... well, this, whatever we are."

Ivar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Maybe he fallen out of bed and suffered a concussion, or still was asleep in his apartment. Maybe the hand that gently squeezed his arm was just an invention of his imagination. And maybe the pleading look he was getting was a hallucination for all the vanilla flavoring that Bucky insisted on putting into the whole apartment. Either way, Ivar didn’t know what to say.

"Wait, you like me... for my personality?" Ivar let out the sentence tentatively, hoping he was not reading all of this wrong. God, if this turned out to be a misunderstanding, he would consider very seriously the idea of going out the window and opening his head down the fire stairs.

Bucky rolled his eyes in exasperation as you sighed and hit Ivar on the forehead, "Of course we do, idiot. Do you really think that a simple pretty face could attract our attention this way?"

Ivar ran his gaze across the room before letting his eyes fall on you again, "I dunno, maybe?"

You growled and pressed your face on the pillow.

Bucky smiled and stroked your hair before returning his gaze to Ivar, his eyes shining with a kind of emotion that he thought was reserved only for you. "What she means is that we love you, Ivar. Maybe it's hard to believe, but last night was one of the best nights of my entire life. I know Y/N thinks the same."

You moaned from the pillow to confirm it. Ivar felt a ragged laugh rise up his throat and break the little tension that remained in the room.

His heart was coming out of his chest, and he could no longer find strength to try to repress the feeling. It had been a long time since he had been really happy and he wasn’t going to waste a single more moment just because of his stupid insecurity.

Letting a smile settle on his face, Ivar slid down the mattress and curled up beside you, pulling your hair until you lifted your head off the pillow to look at it. "I'm sorry I was an asshole. I'm not used to being around people I love."

There were a few moments when you just looked at him in disbelief before a smile broke on your face, which you tried to hide on the pillow, "It was about time you apologized, you ass."

Bucky laughed behind you, sliding under the covers and on his side, "That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it, angelface?" He settled on your back, wrapping an arm around your waist and brushing his fingers in the hips of Ivar. Ivar no longer cared about proximity; he loved it.

Ivar let out a chuckle and hid his face in your neck, brushing his nose under your ear. He smiled when you gave a broken breath. "We have to learn to communicate better if we want this to work."

"We're already in a relationship, right? It's all I need to know right now." You mumbled sleepily. The soft light of the candles and the sound of the storm were attracting an atmosphere of sleep. Ivar was beginning to feel his  eyes heavy and tired muscles even though he had done absolutely nothing today. His legs didn’t hurt as they do usually; it must be the way he has ignored them all day.

Bucky watched as his two companions slowly surrendered to the dream and laughed at them, stroking them softly. "We'll discuss this after a nap, okay? With luck, the power will have returned for that moment."

Ivar didn’t liked the suggestion of a nap, it made him feel like a child, but he didn’t complain when you moaned with satisfaction and snuggled into his chest. Bucky got out of bed to blow out the candles in the living room before returning a few minutes later to get under the covers with them.

Listening to the soft breaths of his now companions, Ivar began to fall asleep. Feeling your arms around his waist and Bucky's hand caressing his arm, Ivar felt at home for the first time in years.

A/N: I’m a little worried about this one; I like the final result, but I don’t know if my characterization of Ivar is good. Idk, I feel like maybe he’s too... soft, I guess? I mean, almost all my fics are AU’s, so when I write him he does’nt have that bloodthirstiness that is so Ivar, so I dunno, maybe let me know what you think?