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What a Way to Go

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Steve didn’t feel any different.

Clearly, something had changed – hell, the evidence was staring him right in the face – but if you’d asked Steve Rogers before today what it might feel like to be magically split into five versions of yourself, he might have at least expected it to tickle.

Beside him, Bucky sighed. “I’ll go cancel the reservation.”

Steve looked from one face to another, quietly appreciating how bizarre his life had become and how very little reaction he could summon in response. Four extra copies of Steve Rogers. Okay, it was strange, but was it really the strangest thing he’d seen this week? Today, even? Could it be stranger than the erotic fanmail waiting in his inbox, really?

“Wait.” He reached out for Bucky’s shoulder. “We’ve rescheduled three times already.”

“It’s okay, Steve.” Bucky frowned. “Steve One.”

Steve snorted. Steves two through five were busy casing the joint as though they’d never seen it before: one at the window admiring the view down below, one at the sketchbook he’d left on the table, one flipping through a newspaper, and one with eyes only for Bucky.

Point of commonality number two: they were all naked.

Maybe it was the erection the Steve on the couch wasn’t even trying to hide, resting the sketchbook against it but not covering it, but Steve had an idea.

“Buck,” he said, assessing each Steve in turn, “that curse...”

Bucky snorted. “The one about realigning yourself, or whatever that was? Buddy, there’s no one in creation who knows what they want better than you. You’ve got all your ducks in a row.”

Was that strictly true? Steve was focused, but maybe too focused. The truth was, Steve didn’t give much thought to what he wanted – and as his responsibilities grew, he gave even less.

But that was the question: what did he want? What did he want so badly that the magic whammy that demi-god had laid on him would recognize it and knit him back together?

Loverboy Steve with the heavy-lidded eyes had the right idea.

“Remember that wine my landlady used to make?”

“The one you cleaned your brushes with?”

Steve snorted. Then he lowered his voice. “Remember that fantasy you told me about the night she gave us a bottle?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Didn’t know you remembered that. That stuff was brutal.”

Steve shrugged. He remembered a lot of strange things. Remembering that time Bucky had drunkenly confessed to wanting to know what it felt like to get manhandled and debauched by a group of guys? Not strange at all.

He put it to a vote, expecting a unanimous yes because he thought he knew himself pretty well. Four out of five hands shot up. The fifth one would have looked straight out of a Buy War Bonds reel if only he’d been wearing pants. Maybe there was a part of him that had bought into the hype.

Still, majority wins. Bucky was naked and on their bed in no time.

A theme slowly emerged. All of them were authentic Steves, no question, but as their differences showed themselves, a rush of clarity washed over Steve. One of the Steves was busying himself arranging Bucky, gently turning him this way and that, fussing with the light, and it was the angle of his cocked head that gave him away – he was staring at Bucky the way Steve had always stared at drawings he was particularly invested in, particularly consumed by. The way Bucky had been ribbing him about for years.

“You’re jealous,” Steve would say around a grin, not looking up from his drawing board.

“Nah,” Buck would smoothly reply, “I don’t think I could take it if you looked at me like you stare at your work. Burn a hole right through me. No thanks, pal. I ain’t man enough for that kind of single-minded focus.”

But he was holding up okay now. Instead of getting impatient with waiting or frustrated with being handled so much, his eyes had gone dark, lips wet and red from the intermittent tugging of his teeth as he watched WPA Steve treat him like a work of art he just had to get right.

When Steve finally caught his gaze, Bucky whined in the back of his throat. He swallowed thickly.

“Didn’t I tell you, Steve?” he asked, breathless and hoarse already.

WPA Steve paused. He glanced down at Bucky, at his fingers snaked loosely around Bucky’s wrist, at the artfully ruffled sheet, and then he laughed.

“Sorry, Buck,” he said. He leaned in for a kiss Steve could almost swore he felt from across the room.

“That’s it,” Roger That murmured. “Finally.”

The one Steve had begun to think of as the Bitchy One rolled his eyes. “Really?”

Roger That’s tongue slid out to wet his lips thoroughly before he even bothered to acknowledge him. “Don’t pretend you don’t want some. Life’s too short.”

“Exactly,” the Bitchy One said vehemently. “Who knows how long we’ll be here? We should be out helping people.”

The last Steve spoke up from his place on the windowsill. “Bucky’s just as deserving of our attention and love as anyone else. Why isn’t that a good enough use of our time?”

The Bitchy One turned on his heel to address him. “That’s a lousy tactic. You know what I mean.”

“You’re too pent-up and preoccupied,” Roger That breathed out. “I bet this whole thing is your fault. Try to relax, and maybe we’ll hunt around for your prostate once Bucky’s jizzed himself too stupid to move.”

His jaw clenched in righteous outrage, and although Steve had seen it in newsreels and cellphone footage on the Internet, he hadn’t ever quite appreciated how stern and intimidating he looked up close. Moral outrage radiated from every pore. Maybe this was the part of him that had thrown the wrench into the gears.

Under his breath, he continued. “Do you know what we could accomplish right now? How many other opportunities will we get like this? Do you know who could need our help right at this moment?”

“I don’t think this is the well-oiled machine you seem to think it is.”

“Do we have oil? That’d be a great idea. I’ll go find some.”

The Bitchy One rolled his eyes, finally admitting defeat. The intimidating figure he cut, with his chiseled jaw and crossed arms, was undermined slightly by the bobbing hard-on jutting out before him. He paid it no mind, but as he huffed quietly to himself in outrage, it swung a little back and forth.

Maybe Steve did take things too seriously. He hoped he wasn’t so absurd and single-minded, at any rate.

A breathy sound drew his attention back to the bed.

WPA Steve had his lips on Bucky’s neck and his hand around his cock. The position he’d settled on, with Bucky on his side half-twisted backward, looked a bit awkward, a bit impractical, but Bucky didn’t seem to care.

WPA Steve might be fussy, but he sure knew how to stage a scene.

The moan that poured from Bucky’s throat rippled through the room. Steve almost laughed at the answering wave of dicks that followed.

He turned to the Bitchy One instead. “Why don’t you get over there and work out some of that impatience, Captain?”

He narrowed unamused eyes at Steve, but barely a minute later he was already stroking shockingly gentle fingers down Bucky’s side.

Roger That groaned. “Saving your best for last? C’mon, Coach, put me in.”

Bucky cackled. “Oh, I will.”

Steve grinned. It wasn’t much of a surprise that Bucky was having the time of his life over there, but it was hard to say whether it was the sexual attention or so much attention from so many Steves that had him going. He wouldn’t ask, but if he had to guess, he’d say probably a mixture of both.

A deep breath somewhere off to his left made Steve turn. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about the last Steve, but he’d been close.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Misty-Eyed Steve said.

Steve hadn’t quite pinned down his deal yet, but the way he was staring at Bucky, it finally clicked.

“Why don’t you go show him how you feel?” he suggested.

He raised his eyebrows. Then he shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. “Oh, he knows. He’s always known.” But he crossed the room in fluid, loose movements, and when his fingers slid into Bucky’s soft hair, a contented sigh slipped past Bucky’s lips to WPA’s.

“Unbelievable.”

Roger That was shamelessly pawing at his johnson, and apparently the Bitchy One had opinions about it. With every passing moment in his presence, Steve was beginning to understand a little better how this situation had occurred.

“Save that for Buck,” Steve cautioned.

“I’ve got plenty,” he argued, a pleasant shiver rippling up his back. “Too much, some might say.”

Steve had the feeling that this was the part of him that was horny all the time – so aware of everything around him and of his own physical state, always a hair’s breadth from being hopelessly turned on. It was the part he ignored most often. Seeing the physical manifestation of his frustration, though, made him reconsider, maybe even feel a little guilty. If the rest of him was made up of can-do spirit, it wasn’t like he could fault this guy for it.

“I think they need a little room to work,” he said, sidling closer, “but if you need a hand for now...”


Steve had found himself wishing over the years that he could be in several places at once: for tactical advantages during certain missions, at work and by his mother’s bedside when she was sick so he could be with her at the end and still pay the doctor’s bills, taking on a guy twice his size and making sure the girl they’d been hassling got home okay when she ran off. Lots of times. It was never enough, what he could accomplish on his own, but he never stopped trying.

He’d never considered the much simpler possibility. Technically he wasn’t occupying those places mentally, but he’d be lying if he tried to claim that seeing Bucky full from both ends with nothing but Steve Rogers wasn’t almost as satisfying in a way he’d never dreamed. Were they really him? Did it count?

Did it matter, honestly, when he’d never been harder in his life?

God, he’d never appreciated how filthy he looked with his tongue inside Bucky before – but also how determined, how worshipful. Roger That on his knees at the side of the bed with Bucky’s knees over his shoulders was like something out of his wettest dreams. There was a stirring in his stomach almost like self-consciousness, like the pins and needles of a waking limb – an almost feeling, more like a memory than the real thing. He couldn’t find it in himself to truly feel anything but arousal and fascination.

Steve made a low sound deep in his throat when Bucky reached for his cock, a gentle warning that carried and made him shiver.

Misty-Eyes reached over Bucky to take his hands and fold them together, softly pressing them down into his chest. His other hand traced the outline of Bucky’s lips around his cock. He was barely sucking, too worked up already to concentrate. Steve liked that sight even more than the view when he looked down while Bucky was sucking him – liked the slackness of his mouth, the spit glistening on his chin, the way his eyes had gone hazy from pleasure.

Roger That hitched Bucky’s legs higher over his shoulders, doubling his efforts.

“Slower,” WPA murmured. He swallowed hard, wiping sweat from his face with the back of his graphite-gray hand. He had set a beautiful scene, manipulating Bucky this way and that, getting him turned on and loose, showing the Bitchy One and Misty-Eyes where he wanted them, and then he’d relocated to a chair in the corner with Steve’s sketchpad on his knee and a feverish glint in his eye. “Don’t jostle him.”

“Never,” Misty-Eyes whispered.

Steve didn’t have to look to know that the drawing would be good. Maybe it was conceited to say, but he’d drawn bodies in all manner of position, of motion, and Bucky in particular. But he’d never sketched Bucky having sex. Never had the outside perspective before.

“Hang on … There we go.” WPA hopped out of his seat and turned the sketchbook around.

Misty-Eyes pulled away from Bucky’s mouth to get his attention, rubbing his jaw with his thumb. “Look, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes took a moment to focus, but when they finally did, the way he moaned was more obscene than the drawing itself.

“Oh, God,” he rasped. “C’mon, I need to come. Someone make me come.”

“I volunteer the mouthy one,” Roger That surfaced to say.

“I think that’s all of us,” Steve pointed out.

The Bitchy One glared at Roger That on the floor, but he wasted no time hauling himself up onto the bed and sucking Bucky’s cock into his mouth.

Bucky swore loudly, hips bucking, before Misty-Eyes guided his cock back through Bucky’s lips and muffled the rest of his sounds.

Steve moved closer, close enough that the heat pouring off of them made him flush. The room smelled like sex and pencils, and he would have laughed at the combination if it weren’t so impossible to tear his attention away from the fluttering of Bucky’s abdominal muscles, the way they clenched and rippled in the dim light.

The moment Bucky noticed his proximity, he threw out a hand, feeling until he found Steve’s hip and reeling him in with his fingertips.

Steve leaned down to whisper into Bucky’s ear, lips tickled by Bucky’s sweaty hair, “This what you wanted?”

Steve figured that Bucky’s low, answering growl was a yes.

Steve patiently waited while Bucky’s fingers trailed around Steve’s groin for a while, almost tickling. When he finally grabbed Steve’s cock, he held it loosely.

“Just going to hang onto that for safekeeping?” he asked lightly.

Bucky gave it a single squeeze and a token jerk, but that was it. Steve stroked the back of his hand affectionately.

“Should we have toys?” Roger That asked suddenly.

“He’s going to take five dicks,” the Bitchy One snarked, kneading Bucky’s balls in one hand and stroking his cock with the other. “What else do you need to put in him?”

The way Bucky whined at that, the way he tried to clench his legs around Roger That’s shoulders, thrummed through Steve’s belly.

“There’s more to sex toys than dildos, my friend.”

The Bitchy One scoffed and turned away to deep-throat Bucky to the base, like he was pointedly ending the conversation.

Loath as Steve was to admit it, he recognized himself in that dramatic, righteous bastard. He laughed, distracting everyone for a beat. He ignored the raised eyebrows.

“Maybe he wants to be held down,” WPA drawled, “pretty and open. Don’t even need supplies for that. We’ve certainly got plenty of hands.”

“What do you say, Buck?” Steve murmured. “How do you want it?”

Bucky pulled off of Misty-Eyes enough to gasp, but instead of answering, he grabbed Steve’s hand and slapped it down firmly onto his shoulder.

Steve exerted just enough pressure to make him gasp again, kneading and massaging. Then he snagged a bottle of lube from the bedside table and tossed it to WPA.

The quizzical look on his face was almost comical. “I think he’s occupied.”

“You’re not.”

Clearly, he hadn’t been catching enough lately.

“Give me that.” The Bitchy One grabbed for the lube, unsnapping it one-handed to squeeze a generous drizzle down Bucky’s cock and snorting when WPA insisted, “I was getting to it.”


“Someone fuck me already,” Bucky breathed through gritted teeth.

Steve grinned. He wasn’t wrong – they’d teased him six ways to Sunday, stimulated him into a breathless mess with tongues and fingers and even riding him for a little while, but no dice.

“You, the horny one,” he panted. “Come here.”

Roger That looked offended for a second. “We’re all horny.”

“But you’ve been looking at me all night like you want to eat me alive. Give me some of that.”

Steve kept his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, still rubbing and massaging, but he was steadying, too – steadying Bucky as he squirmed in anticipation. He’d gone molten all over, but now he was tensed and waiting, shiny with sweat and flushed with need.

It occurred to Steve that they should have talked about condoms, just from a practical standpoint, but before he could bring it up, Bucky had wrapped his legs about Roger That’s hips and was pulling him in with all the strength you’d expect from a super soldier. Well, at least the bathroom was nearby.

Roger That sighed as he sunk into Bucky, but Bucky was groaning, growling, finally getting just what he wanted.

“Don’t even think about me,” Bucky whispered. “Just do what feels good. That’s how I want it from you.”

Roger That raised an eyebrow, looking around the room in skepticism. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. Come on, Captain, do it.”

He adjusted his footing, bracing himself, but Steve had the feeling that it was stalling to give Bucky a minute to adjust, a minute to change his mind. When he finally moved his hips, carefully drawing back, the muscles in Bucky’s thighs jumped in excitement.

“Here we go,” he breathed.

Roger That didn’t disappoint. Steve had to brace harder to keep Bucky from moving up the bed as Roger That pounded away. It was fascinating to watch in a strange, self-conscious way – Steve had never fucked so selfishly, always trying to be considerate and aware; and if Bucky had asked this of him – just him, not his extras – he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to do it. But the look on Bucky’s face – lower lip clenched in his teeth, eyes closed, utter bliss – and the way he hadn’t flagged even slightly, still ruddy and leaking … well, shit, maybe he was onto something. He could work with this.

An elbow tapped his ribs. He looked up and found Misty-Eyes watching Bucky.

“Isn’t he something?” he said in awe, hand moving slowly up and down his cock, almost contemplative.

“I heard that,” Bucky panted. “Damn straight, I am.”

“He’s too coherent,” the Bitchy One said. “If we’re going to do this, do it right.”

“I’d like to see you do better,” Roger That gritted out, flushed all the way down to his navel.

“Finish up and watch me, then.” He finally cracked a smile, sly and confident, aimed at Bucky. “Give me a minute, Buck. I’ll take care of you.”

Bucky laughed so uproariously that he almost unseated Roger That, abdominal muscles flexing, head thrown back. “This better not be a fucking dream.”

Steve leaned in, drawing his lips over Bucky’s sweat slick shoulder. “This what you dream about?”

He grunted, hitching his legs higher up over Roger That’s shoulders. “Well, it ain’t liberty and justice for all, Steve. Why? What do you dream about?”

Steve planted a kiss on him so thorough and filthy that he managed to elicit wolf whistles in a room where an orgy was already taking place. He rolled his eyes and reached for Bucky’s lonely, ignored cock.

His hips shot off of the bed with a yowl.

Roger That shuddered, a ripple that poured down his body, and clutched Bucky’s hips even tighter. He lowered Bucky back down slowly, almost reverent, dropping a kiss on his hip before he pulled away.

The Bitchy One raised an eyebrow. He grabbed a pillow and carefully arranged it next to Bucky, then rolled him over gently. A quick maneuver had Bucky’s hips up and his legs tucked under him. He eased behind Bucky, long, deliberate movements like a tiger circling prey. Steve watched in fascination as the Bitchy One rubbed Bucky’s lower back with the flat of one hand and lightly dragged the nails of the other down his spine, a tender gesture almost totally at odds with the appraising look on his face.

Bucky shivered and canted his hips back. “Do your worst,” he said, voice raw.

“Ah, Buck.” He seated himself in one fluid motion. “I always do my best.”

He hiked Bucky’s hips up higher, nudged his shoulders lower, and folded himself down over the curve of Bucky’s back. One arm slid under his chest, and the other reached out to plant a bracing hand into the bed.

“So far this is pretty familiar.”

The Bitchy One smirked into Bucky’s neck. Maybe it was having something to do finally, or maybe it was that something involving being balls-deep in Bucky, but he wasn’t so bitchy anymore. Just focused and competitive. So not bitchy. Maybe just the Captain.

He rolled his hips experimentally, moving this way and that until Bucky jerked and groaned and his breath went heavy. Satisfied, course set, he went to work.

Steve didn’t have the best view from where he was kneeling by the bed, running his fingers through Bucky’s damp hair.

“If that’s all you got,” he said, breathy and thin, “I think I need a second helping.”

“That was terrible,” Steve said.

“You try – fuck – being clever like this. Come on, somebody, we’ll be here all night.”

Steve snorted and stood up. He put a knee up on the bed and wrapped his long fingers around the base of Bucky’s skull, letting him rest his head for a minute in the junction where Steve’s hip met his thigh. He nuzzled the fine hairs and blew hot, damp breath over him, ghosting his mouth over the delicate skin of his balls before he even wet his lips.

“Now who’s a tease?”

Bucky’s metal fingers were always shockingly warm, even around his cock. He was trying to be impressive with his tongue, trying to be sensual and pull off all the tricks he knew Steve liked best, but the Captain over there was actually doing a pretty solid job of pounding every thought out of his head. He wasn’t moving as fast or as hard as Bucky had asked of Roger That, but he didn’t have to. There was an intensity about the way he moved that Steve recognized from analyzing post-battle footage. If he’d just seen his face, he wouldn’t have guessed the man was even getting laid.

Maybe Steve did bring his work home with him.

Still, it was melting Bucky’s brain, so there was something to be said for that. Every deep, powerful rock of his hips made Bucky’s shoulders sink lower into the bed, push his hips higher into the air, back into the Captain; and every time Bucky did it, the Captain swiped a palm over his hip, pinched a nipple, teased at his inner thighs – everywhere but his flushed cock and tightly-drawn balls. Everywhere but where he wanted. When he paused to pour more lube, Bucky actually whined.

It occurred to Steve – before Bucky found his concentration long enough to suck the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth – that maybe the part of him that was an asshole coexisted with the part of him that got knocked down in alleys and jumped back up grinning. The grit had to come from somewhere, and staring at the embodiment of the primary decision-making part of his brain was probably the most bizarre part of the entire experience. This jumped-up bastard had gotten him through a lot. Gotten him to where he was today.

He bit his lip to stifle the wild laugh bubbling its way up over his tongue. “Anyone feeling left out?”

Roger That raised the hand that wasn’t stroking his cock. He was already hard again by the time he’d finished washing up in the bathroom earlier, which was a record even for Steve.

He tapped Bucky’s cheek. “You close, Buck?”

He was close. Steve could tell by the way he’d lost all finesse; he was alternating between sucking like a vacuum when he remembered and just holding Steve in his mouth. It was nice, but it wasn’t what they were here for.

Bucky lifted his head off of Steve in a daze, like waking from a dream, with a loud, sloppy slurp. His lips moved like he was trying to come up with some kind of answer, mouth staying open, but he gave up and nodded as a shiver slid down his spine.

Steve jerked his head at the Captain. His lips pinched to the side like he wasn’t pleased with being bossed around, but it was hardly a chore to reach under Bucky and finally grab his cock. Steve leaned down for another kiss. With his tongue mapping Bucky’s slack mouth and the Captain grinding and tugging behind him, Bucky was done for. And the Captain wasn’t far behind.

Bucky flopped onto his side the moment the Captain pulled away, like his strings had been cut. Steve let him catch his breath for a minute.

“You got another one in you?”

Bucky shuddered and groaned like he wasn’t sure, but he swallowed hard and grinned toothy and wide. “I don’t waste opportunities.”

“Good.” He kissed Bucky’s forehead, then he pulled at his shoulder until he flopped onto his back. A quick tug here and there had his legs splayed wide, then his arms, and Bucky wriggled his hips to settle deeper into the bed, getting comfortable.

But it wouldn’t quite work, so he scoped out his options. The couch was all the way in the other room and would just come with a different set of problems. He wasn’t wild about the floor either. The table by the door could handle their phones and the revolving door of novels Bucky dropped on it nightly, but he wouldn’t count on it for what he had in mind.

“A hand, fellas,” he said, target acquired. He didn’t exactly need help to clear and move a desk, even a heavy one, but it was awkward enough with a hard-on bobbing around that he figured it couldn’t hurt to give them something to do.

WPA carefully cleared the surface while Misty-Eyes moved the desk chair out of the way. Bucky was perking up in curiosity, eyebrows raised, but when they got the desk moved away from the wall a couple of feet, he threw his head back and laughed, raspy and long.

“Really? You expect me to get up after that?”

“Of course not,” Steve said, mock offended.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Misty-Eyes cut in, completely sincere, scooping Bucky up into his arms like a Hollywood heroine. “We’re gentlemen, right?”

Roger That coughed.

There was something especially filthy about seeing Bucky laid out, sticky and well-fucked, on the desk where he did his paperwork and reviewed media appearance requests and all the other minutiae that being Captain America entailed. His legs splayed out by instinct to keep himself from sliding off, but he didn’t have to worry about that for long. Steve settled into the space between his thighs and pulled his hips down until he was right where Steve wanted him; pulled his legs up until he was totally exposed, slick and come dripping down his crack in a sluggish stream that Steve had no intention of immortalizing but which WPA couldn’t quite tear his eyes from.

Really? Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

WPA shrugged. “What can I say? He’s pretty. All of him. All the time.”

Bucky wasn’t much of a blusher, but the self-satisfied little smile on his face was sweet.

“You want to clean up a bit?” Misty-Eyes asked, sliding a hand under Bucky’s calf and stroking his thumb along his ankle, back and forth.

“At the risk of sounding gross,” Bucky said, shifting his hips a bit, visibly trying and failing to clench, “I kind of like it.”

“Far be it from us to stop you, then,” the Captain butted in. “How are we doing this?”

“Nice to see the romance isn’t dead.”

The withering look the Captain shot them was almost funny. There was no way Steve was that much of a drama queen, was there? Steve knew for certain that if he’d rolled his eyes as many times in his entire childhood as the Captain had in the last few hours, his mother would have had something to say about it.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be working together or something?” Bucky rolled his neck, stretched his shoulders, vertebrae clicking and popping. “Pretty sure that was the gist of the spell. Supposed to be focusing and channeling your … something or other. Come on, boys, finish what you started.”

Roger That raised an eyebrow at Steve, tossing over the lube with one hand and stroking Bucky’s hair with the other. He crowded in close, dick bobbing precariously close to Bucky’s ear while he waited for Bucky to finish stretching. Bucky laughed when it tapped his cheek.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He licked up the side of Roger That’s cock, clumsy and awkward at that angle, but no one could quite look away. It bounced a little every time he lipped at it, smearing spit across Bucky’s cheek. His hair was sticking up all over the place where Roger That’s trembling fingers weren’t clutching it.

Steve knew from experience how tricky it was to give a blowjob around a smirk like the one lighting up Bucky’s face, but Roger That didn’t seem to mind; he grabbed the base of his cock to hold it steady and just watched Bucky do his thing.

He let them have their moment and returned his attention to the bottle in his hand. He poured out more than he needed, mostly for the sensation of it slipping over his fingers, for the way Bucky’d talked about liking it messy and wet. He bit his lip as the cool lube hit his flushed dick. Everyone else had come at least once, but not him. For whatever reason, he’d gotten it in his head that he’d go last. Where’d he get a boneheaded idea like that? It was hard to remember at this particular moment, so close to where he wanted to be, trying to tune out the enthusiastic sucking from the other side of the desk to keep himself in check. The animal part of him wanted to listen to Bucky’s mouth on someone else’s (but not someone else’s) dick, and smell the sex in the air, and keep his slick hand tight around his cock.

But that wasn’t Bucky’s request, was it?

He let out a shaky breath, collecting himself, and then slid his fingers into Bucky, straight where he knew Bucky liked them best. He yelped a little, but he didn’t slow down, still teasing and enjoying himself.

Steve got the attention of the others and gestured until they’d gotten the message and settled into place. WPA sidled up by Roger That, close enough to study every flicker of Bucky’s face, and carefully wrapped Bucky’s metal fingers around his dick. He stroked up and down Bucky’s arm; Bucky’d said before that he couldn’t really feel it, but he liked that Steve treated it like the rest of him. Bucky felt around wildly with his other hand until the back of his wrist smacked into the nearest cock available; Misty-Eyes hissed a bit as he guided it properly into Bucky’s waiting hand. The Captain took up position over Bucky’s other shoulder, taking care of himself but with a hell of a view.

Steve didn’t waste any time. He never had, really. A few precise, efficient movements had him buried in Bucky to the hilt. He waited for Bucky to adjust, but it was more of a token gesture of courtesy; Bucky was so keyed up, so stimulated, so occupied with everything going on around him that it didn’t make much difference. He wasn’t jerking the cocks in his hands so much as hanging onto them. Steve wasn’t sure when the switch had happened, what had tipped Bucky over the edge, but when he wrapped his wet fingers around Bucky’s ruddy, neglected dick, Bucky’s eyes welled up.

“You good, Buck?” he asked, dividing his concentration between watching Bucky closely and keeping his voice level. Every movement Bucky made had his muscles tensing and releasing, clutching and working.

Roger That tapped his hollowed cheeks when he didn’t answer.

“Buck, having fun?” he tried again.

Bucky gave him an awkward thumbs up around Misty-Eyes, laughing with his mouth still full of Roger That, wild joy radiating from him. Steve looked around at the assembly before him: Misty-Eyes with one hand under Bucky’s calf for support, the other affectionately stroking his thigh; the Captain looking on with something like approval on his face; Roger That staring eagle-eyed at Bucky’s mouth working him, one hand clenched at his side and the other plucking at Bucky’s hard nipples and rubbing his chest; and WPA taking it all in. And Steve, of course. Steve with one hand around Bucky’s ankle, keeping it up and out despite Bucky’s squirming, and the other shoving under him, gripping his ass hard enough to bruise, the way he’d wanted it from Roger That. He couldn’t quite give it to Bucky like that, heedless of Bucky’s comfort, but he kept up a relentless pace anyway, long past teasing.

The Captain shivered and jerked his chin up, that defiant gesture Steve knew so intimately, just as Steve came, like he knew, like he could feel it, too. Steve’s eyes shut tight, his jaw tighter.

When he opened them, he was alone with a shivering, panting Bucky, still hard and leaking. He pulled out gently, wincing at the squelch, and climbed up onto the desk slowly, holding himself over Bucky on hands and knees. With his cleaner hand, he took hold of Bucky’s jaw and kissed him. He debated for a moment whether to touch Bucky or grind down into him, but it was moot – Bucky whined and shoved his hips up into Steve, no rhythm, no finesse, so Steve pushed him down, down, nudging his legs until they wrapped around Steve’s hips, and Bucky came between them with a hoarse shout.


Steve had seen a lot of unusual things in his time, but never an orgy. He thought he’d known just how much to expect in the way of bodily fluids, but he had been wrong. You could prepare, but in the end, you just couldn’t know exactly what you were in for.

The Steves had tried to be considerate, but Bucky was absolutely drenched in commingled sweat, spit, lube, and come. He was laughing quietly to himself, flattened to the middle of the bed where Steve had deposited him like he couldn’t move if you paid him.

Steve brought him a wet towel from the bathroom and a glass of cold water. Bucky didn’t try to take either, just stretched like a cat, toes curling. Steve wiped him down with gentle strokes, wider with every pass.

Bucky nuzzled his cheek into Steve’s hip. “I was right, you know.”

“About what?”

“Your attention. It’s a lot.” He yawned. “Worth it, though.”

Steve craned his neck down to kiss him thoroughly, lips twisting in amusement when Bucky laughed right into his mouth.

“Sorry,” he explained, “it’s just that you all kiss exactly the same.”

“Well,” he said around a smile, “I know what I want.”