If there’s one thing Tony Stark knows, down to the core, about his sex life, it’s that he is irredeemably fucked up.
It’s not that he thinks a victim should be blamed for sexual abuse, of course. His mother had done enough domestic violence work, and he’d heard the stories of enough battered women, to understand that the perpetrator is always the responsible party.
It’s just that his case is different. If it weren’t, then why would he keep coming back?
Tony was young, but he wasn’t stupid. He was every bit the genius back then that he is now, and Sunset had never brought up anything remotely related to humiliation before he shared his kink with her. She went too far, of course. He has no doubt that she went too far. After a couple of years together, the sick feeling in his stomach started lasting longer and longer, and the rush of arousal and endorphins at being told that he was born to scrape the sole of her shoe gave way to a kind of resigned blankness. He told Rhodey, then, and Rhodey helped him get out with his reputation more-or-less intact. Rhodey affirmed his suspicions that it wasn’t healthy, and he never judged Tony even as SI took the hits for the designs he showed her in his naivete.
After that disaster, it was years before he indulged again. He learned to acknowledge the relationship as abusive in those years, but also swore to himself that he’d never again think the disgusting thoughts that led her to escalate things.
He still makes that promise to himself, but these days, he knows he’s too weak to keep it for long.
It’s always a cycle. First, he avoids anything that might set him off. He tries normal sex. He leans into his ego, into his pride, everything opposite of those darker fantasies. Sometimes he goes through periods of total abstinence. Other times he dips his toes into the waters of BDSM, but makes it clear that humiliation is a hard limit, and focuses on pain or tops instead. He talks to Rhodey, who reassures him that he never has to go back to being put down like that again. He never quite explains to Rhodey how much he liked it, even when it got bad. He never tells Rhodey that even when he realized the symptoms he experiences in response to certain triggers are part of PTSD, something he obtained long before Afghanistan, he couldn’t stop seeing himself squirming on the floor in certain erotic dreams, begging for release and being told no even as he was ruthlessly crushed under some invisible weight.
He still has those dreams. They usually indicate that he’s getting close to the end of the cycle, the point where he cracks.
That’s the point where he seeks out a hookup, is very careful to ensure that they have no evidence they could later take to the press, and then explains what he wants in no uncertain terms. He always hates himself the next day. He often spends part of the scene dissociating, outside of himself. Sometimes being triggered makes him flinch, or shake, or just go silent. But the men he selects (it’s always men, as if that would really make it easier) aren’t the type to stop when they’re in the heat of things, and the fact is, as much as he tries not to need it, it’s the treatment that always makes him come the hardest. It may be bad for him, it may hurt, but it also works. It’s the most potent of drugs, that feeling of being brought down, seen as almost below the notice of the person he’s with, but still used to bring them pleasure. It’s so unlike anything else in his life, that he can’t quite quit it.
So this is what brings him to the present moment, walking towards the Avengers common kitchen with a man who’d only let Tony call him “Sir” in their increasingly dirty e-mail exchange, and realizing they’re not alone.
“Oh,” the man murmurs, brought up short, and his hand on the back of Tony’s neck stops him from going any further. So much for brewing the tea Sir had requested (Tony only keeps coffee in the penthouse), pretending to just be friends, and heading discreetly upstairs. Tony feels the blood rising in his cheeks as his eyes dart to the floor, because he’d blown Sir in an alley already (so Sir could see if the slut would be good enough to even have in a bed), and his usual suave laugh-it-off nature is completely sublimated at this point. He prays that this man is kind, that he doesn’t say anything to clue Steve and Bucky in on the nature of their dalliance. But he can’t find any words of his own, and in truth, Tony’s never believed in any God.
“The wonder couple themselves,” Sir declares, and Tony knows without looking that his grin is smarmy. Steve and Bucky have only been out for about a month, but the whole damn world knows it after the kiss Steve laid on his boyfriend at the press conference. “Say, this is good timing. Would you two like a go at his mouth, or is that old hat around here?”
Tony feels even more redness, pressure in his face like he’s going to burst, and blurts out a weak “wait, don’t-” before the hand on his neck claps over his mouth instead.
“I don’t think I asked you,” Sir warns in this same dark purr he’d used earlier, to get Tony on his knees. Why did he think they were safe this late at night, that the common room would be empty? Why is Tony always such an idiot where it matters? His eyes dart to the floor again, and his hands are starting to shake, but he balls them into fists, trying not to show either of his fellow Avengers weakness. The situation is spiralling out of his control too fast to track, though. “You were pretty clear about what you like, slut , so I don’t think you get to decide who I do and don’t offer you to. Are we clear?”
The man’s palm is warm and sweaty. His hand is big, and he smells a little sour. Tony’s heart is thudding in his chest, and he forgets how to respond. He hears Bucky’s voice asking if Tony’s okay, if this is consensual, but it’s like he’s hearing it through a tunnel. Next to him, his partner for the night responds, his tone relaxed and easy.
“Don’t worry about it. He asked me to be real rough, you don’t need to check in on him.” He sounds so smooth, so sure, and he’s not wrong . Tony hopes this will pass quickly, that Sir doesn’t need tea after all, that they can hurry upstairs and he can apologize like hell in the morning. But Steve’s speaking, now, his warm baritone penetrating through the fog of Tony’s panic.
“No. I think you’re wrong about that,” Steve protests, the firmness of his tone registering with Tony’s current desire to please, to be good even if being told he’s not quite good enough does that funny thing in his stomach that’s half-dread, half-sharp arousal. “Tony. We’re not judging you at all, either of us. Whatever you want to do in your bedroom is fine with us.” In your bedroom , Tony thinks, burning with shame for having exposed them to this. “But we need you to tell us you’re okay with what’s happening.” Tony swallows, hard. It’s a clear directive, and he wants to be good. He wants to obey the Captain. He wants to say yes and be left alone. His hands relax and clench, relax and clench. But the hand over his face is sour, damp, and he can’t quite make himself say that one word around it. He can’t quite bring himself to nod. He feels like a failure, but he just can’t do it, and after a thirty-second pause, Tony hears the sound of someone rising from the sofa, walking towards them.
“All right. We’re done here.” Bucky’s voice is gruff, and Tony can practically feel Sir’s anger against his side. The hand tightens, and the man growls at him.
“ Tell them. You want me to show them the emails?” Tony flushes hot all over, but Bucky just steps up to them, right in the man’s face.
“I don’t give a shit what he did or didn’t say before. It’s over. Let go of him.”
“Or what?” Sir scoffs, full of bravado. “You gonna beat me up or something?” Tony winces, but he doesn’t try to pull away. He suddenly just doesn’t have the energy. He does look up at Bucky for the first time, though, and Bucky’s eyes are hard, flinty like the Soldier.
“Yes” is all he says, but that’s apparently enough for Sir (not-Sir?) to think otherwise, and he drops his hand with a huff, walking back towards the elevator. Bucky grabs him hard by an elbow to escort him, and Steve rushes up to Tony, crouching down in front of him. Tony has no idea why, since Tony’s standing up straight, but Steve’s tone is warm and gentle and he can’t look away.
“Hey. You’re okay. That guy’s a dick, but you’re okay.” He takes both of Tony’s hands in his, and slowly unfurls the fists Tony didn’t realize he was still making, pain lancing through his stiff fingers as he unclenches. His hands are trembling, and he wants to yank them away so Steve doesn’t notice, but Steve just squeezes them both and smiles up at Tony like nothing is wrong, like he didn’t just witness one of the most humiliating moments of Tony’s life (and not in the hot way). “Come sit with me?” he offers, and Tony nods, letting Steve stand and tug him over to the sofa, where Steve sits down next to him, thigh-to-thigh.
“Where’s Bucky?” Tony blurts out, because this is Bucky’s place, Bucky’s position.
“Taking out the trash,” Steve replies, almost a growl, and Tony blinks, realizing that he’d forgotten for a moment what happened 15 seconds ago, and he hates that, hates that he sometimes loses time or forgets where he is. Steve is fierce and protective next to him, but that makes no sense, so he takes his hand away, scrubs it over his face.
“Sorry, I... I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have seen that.”
“No need to apologize. I’m glad we were here to help.”
“You didn’t need to… I mean… I wasn’t… I did ask for it,” Tony admits, and he hates how damned small his voice is, how the cloud over his higher thinking processes still hasn’t cleared. He’s not used to a scene being interrupted, though, being dragged out of it like this. It’s hell on his focus.
“Doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t have invited others to join without your permission. He definitely shouldn’t have humiliated you like that.”
“I… asked him to,” Tony whispers, feeling so small, but Steve doesn’t recoil, just wraps an arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze.
“Okay, pal. That’s okay. I only mean, you obviously weren’t okay just now. He should’ve read the room.” Tony blinks, uncomprehending, trying to understand why Steve isn’t angry or even just disgusted (and he must be, Tony’s brain pipes up, he’s just not showing it right now, Steve’s finally developed a poker face). He dimly registers movement behind him, and then Bucky sliding in next to him on the sofa, and he presses both hands against his face, because he can’t quite handle the fact that they’re seeing him like this.
“Handled?” Steve asks, and Bucky rests his metal hand on Tony’s thigh as he responds.
“Very. How are we doing up here?”
“Tony’s trying to apologize. I’m not letting him,” Steve explains, easy as that, and Bucky laughs, which feels incongruous enough that Tony removes his hands from his face and stares at him.
“Sounds like Steve,” Bucky grins, giving Tony a wink. “But he’s right this time, you got nothing to apologize for.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Tony mutters. “I just… pulled you into my perversion like it was nothing, you didn’t agree to be involved, and… fuck ,” he groans, feeling a little bit of reality start to sink in around him. “I didn’t want to do it again. I know I shouldn’t fucking do it, and this is obviously my payment for…”
“Whoa. Slow down. Didn’t want to do what?” Bucky asks.
“ This ,” Tony exclaims, suddenly livid at himself more than anything. “This… bullshit !” He flings a hand in the air, and Bucky leans back just slightly to avoid it. “He wasn’t making it up, I fucking sought him out, I looked specifically for someone who could humiliate me and not go gentle, I don’t deserve to be… comforted when I’m the one who…”
Tony’s tirade, in spite of himself, grinds to a halt at the command in Steve’s voice, right at his ear. He must not be back up again like he thought, he realizes, turning helplessly to face his Captain. Every bone in his body wants to obey in response to that tone, and he has no power against it.
“Tony,” Steve continues, soft again, his fingers brushing along the back of Tony’s neck in a way that makes him want to just curl into the man and shut the whole world out. “Let’s break this down, okay? First, I’m pretty sure comfort is exactly what you deserve. That guy was sending you into a panic attack, as far as I can tell. And that has nothing to do with what you asked him for, it has nothing to do with a humiliation kink.”
“What do you mean?” Tony asks weakly. “It’s just… how it is, but... I’m not supposed to do it.”
“Not supposed to do what, exactly?”
“Seek out abusers,” Tony mumbles. “Ask Rhodey.”
“Asking someone to humiliate you because you like it isn’t asking for abuse,” Bucky chimes in, his tone just as low and firm as Steve’s. It makes Tony shiver, and he hates himself for it. “How much does Rhodes know about the kink scene, anyway?”
“Not much? But I don’t know how that’s relevant,” Tony frowns.
“I think where Buck is going with this is that things might be a bit mixed up,” Steve offers. “You think wanting to be humiliated in bed is wrong, is that what you’re saying?”
Tony shrugs. “I mean… yeah .”
“Well,” Steve smiles a little. “I feel like I should be offended. I mean… I like it an awful lot when Bucky calls me a needy little slut sometimes.”
“ Rogers ,” Bucky groans, even as Tony’s eyes go abruptly wide.
“I’m just saying. That kind of thing can be hot. Doesn’t mean you deserve to have your boundaries stepped over, or for someone to keep you from giving input or a safeword when you’re obviously uncomfortable.”
“You… know what a safeword is?” Tony stares at Steve, and at his other side, Bucky busts up laughing.
“Jesus Christ, Stevie, why the hell does everyone around here think you’re so innocent ?”
“Oh, can it,” Steve mumbles.
“Tony, seriously, that man begs for dick like it’s water in the Sahara on a daily basis, anything you ever believed about his purity is lies ,” Bucky insists, as Tony just looks from one of them to the other like it’s a tennis match.
“James Barnes, the man is clearly traumatized, can you not talk about your dick right now?” Steve’s hand squeezes Tony’s neck idly, like he doesn’t notice he’s doing it, and a little wave of warmth cascades over him even as they bicker at each other.
“Whatever, my dick is a healing experience, you’ve said so yourself. ...uh, not that I’m coming onto you, Tony, sorry.”
“You are literally the worst . You are constitutionally incapable of not flirting.”
“That’s not true, I didn’t flirt for at least two months after I came in, and you said so yourself.”
“Yeah, because you were literally rebuilding the brain tissue that accesses memories from scratch, Barnes, it’ll take about that much…”
“Uh…?” Tony interjects, and the two of them immediately fall silent, turning to him attentively.
“Sorry, Tony,” Steve speaks up first. “What do you need?”
“I’m not sure,” he admits. This would normally be the place where he hightails it to his own, private space, as quickly as he can, but they feel so warm and comfortable boxing him in. “How do you know what a safeword is?” ends up being the first thing to come out of his mouth, and Steve just laughs pleasantly like it’s a normal question.
“Well we didn’t call it that back in the day. But it’s a pretty obvious concept, having a way to stop somebody when you don’t mean ‘stop but actually don’t stop.’ Used to just be a double-tap on whatever body part was nearest.”
“Once, using his teeth , the little shit…”
“Look, you have my hands and feet tied, you have to live with what you get.”
“Damn. I… uh… sorry. Just trying to assimilate this whole ‘Captain America is kinky’ idea into my worldview. Need a minute.”
Bucky laughs close to his ear, and reaches up to pet his hair a bit, which feels good even though it’s the metal hand. “Captain America isn’t kinky. Steve is kinky. We both are. Sorry to spoil your mental image.”
“ Spoil ?” Tony coughs, and then feels his face heat dramatically.
“Oh,” Steve murmurs, and before Tony can ask, Bucky beats him to it.
“Blushes real pretty, doesn’t he?”
Of course, that doesn’t make Tony blush any less . Steve, for his part, reaches as far as he can behind Tony’s shoulders to whack Bucky a little ineffectually. “You can’t hit on someone when we’re trying to give him aftercare for a traumatic experience, Buck, you are so bad at this.”
“All right, fine, fine. I’ll give you at least 24 hours to recover before I hit on you, sweetheart, does that work?” Tony’s eyes dart down to his lap, and he feels warm and flushed all over. He’s reminded that he never did get to come earlier, while having his throat fucked, and while the rush of real fear had definitely killed his boner, his body isn’t nearly as slow to respond now as it is from a cold start.
“That… um. Yeah. I mean. If you even want to,” Tony mumbles, well aware that normally he’d be eating this up with a spoon, giving as good as he gets, but in his fragile state it’s hard to imagine that Bucky’s words are much more than pity for the state he’s in. To Bucky’s credit, he just drops his hand to Tony’s knee again, squeezes, and lets things fall into a comfortable silence. It should be awkward, and Tony should be itching to do something with his hands, to get down to the workshop, but he’s not. Steve keeps squeezing his neck, little pulses with no definite rhythm, and he zones out to the feeling, his mind going blissfully blank.
26.5 hours later, it turns out that Bucky is really exact.
They cross paths in the common kitchen again, except this time there’s no Steve. Tony had slept, a little, and then gone on an engineering bender from which he’s only just emerging for food. He’s a little dizzy, so he has to admit defeat and is warming a pot pie in the toaster oven when Bucky stalks into the room looking unreasonably good in skin-tight dark wash jeans and a dark blue shirt with the top buttons undone. Tony has to make a conscious effort not to stare at his thighs, and Bucky smirks like he’s well aware anyway.
“So,” Bucky opens, sliding onto a barstool across the island from Tony and leaning forward to rest on his forearms, “I was thinking.”
“Oh? Sounds dangerous,” Tony quips, and Bucky just smirks.
“You’re not wrong. Anyway, I was thinking… you know, as Steve implied last night, I do have experience with the sort of thing you like.” Tony swallows, hard. Bucky looks like an apex predator, relaxed but intent, and Tony’s still a little on-edge from the previous night’s scene despite his time in the workshop. “And knowing Stevie… he would really like to experience that kind of thing from the other end. So… any interest?”
Bucky looks a little smug, like he knows what the answer’s going to be, and damn if that doesn’t push Tony’s buttons. It makes him feel exposed, obvious , and he can’t help the shiver that runs up his spine in response. But he promised Rhodey…
“Of course I’m interested ,” Tony admits, his tone soft and resigned. “I wish it wasn’t like this, but… it’s bad for me. I know it is. It triggers me, and I’m supposed to avoid it. You saw some of that last night.”
Bucky’s expression shifts to a frown, but he doesn’t back down entirely. “I mean, I saw someone clearly abusing his power in a situation you weren’t prepared for, doesn’t seem like the same thing exactly. You’re saying you’re supposed to avoid the kink entirely? Or specific triggers?”
Tony shrugs. “What you saw, it wasn’t… different from how it normally is. I know you were bothered by it, but it’s just... I mean… the stuff I like… it’s basically abuse,” he admits quietly, thinking of how he’d talked things out with Rhodey the first time, how horrified Rhodey had been. “Or it’s a slippery slope to abuse, at the very least. And I know it’s bad for me, but I want it so much, and inevitably it leads… back there. Or I lead people to it. I don’t know… pot-ay-to, po-tah-to.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t actually lead anyone anywhere they don’t want to go,” Bucky objects, his tone gentle but firm. “And if you’re saying that playing out your kinks regularly puts you in the space you were last night… I’m not judging you, but I am worried about whether the people you play with even know what they’re doing.” He sighs a little, and Tony frowns, curling in on himself a bit as if he could make himself smaller and therefore less offensive. “Tony… when you say ‘back there.’ Did you have an abusive relationship in the past?”
Tony nods, staring at the marble top of the island. He feels so weak, so small, but he doesn’t want to lie about it, either. “A long time ago.”
“Okay. And he humiliated you, in that relationship?”
“She,” Tony corrects. “Yeah. It started out… tame, I guess. But I just kept wanting more, and… well. It got bad. She escalated things, but I… contributed.”
Bucky takes a deep breath, and Tony curls a little more in on himself, trying not to burn up from shame. But what he says isn’t quite what Tony expects. “Hey. There are a lot of things I want to say right now, but probably most of them aren’t helpful. Just… to focus on the relevant bits… if you asked her to humiliate you, and she did… I guess what I’m trying to get to is, you can have humiliation play in a healthy relationship. And you can have it in an abusive relationship. And it’s not your fault that things went that direction. Like… how did things end? Did you believe it was abusive, or did someone tell you?”
“I knew it wasn’t right,” Tony explains. “And then Rhodey helped me put words to it, and get out.”
“When you felt that things weren’t right… do you remember specific things she did that crossed the line? Maybe things you can avoid if you want to do that kind of play again?”
Tony frowns, thinking back. He’s never really thought to try to separate the play from the abuse, and when he tries, nothing obvious comes to mind. He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t remember. It just… I felt sick all the time. A little at first, and then all the time. My stomach was always hurting. I didn’t get… turned on, like I used to. I mean, I wouldn’t get hard. And I was afraid of her, near the end.”
“Okay,” Bucky affirms, his tone terribly gentle. “Then that’s somewhere to start. You know that sick feeling is a warning sign, right? And I think… I mean, if you even want to play with us, I’m not saying you do, but if so… we’d be willing to go slow and work around things. We could check in on your arousal while we play, talk through specific kinks in advance and see how they hit you, good or bad. Trust me, Stevie and I, we’re no stranger to triggers,” he admits with a sad kind of smile.
“Really? You’d be… willing to go through that, with me? Just to play?”
“Well… it’s not really ‘going through,’” Bucky argues. “You make it sound like a trial to endure. It’s more like… getting to know you. What you like. What’s dangerous for you. We’re more than willing, hell, Steve loves that kind of thing.” Bucky’s smile is fond, though Tony doesn’t quite know the origin. “And I’ll tell you another thing, there’s no ‘just’ about the idea of playing with you,” Bucky adds, raising his eyebrows. “That’s something I’d really like to do. Something we’d both really like to do. Not necessarily just the once, either, if you like it.”
Tony swallows, using the “ding!” of the oven as an excuse to give himself a moment, transferring his pot pie to a plate and finding a fork in the silverware drawer. When he turns back around, Bucky’s sitting patiently, waiting for his response. “I… yeah. I’d like to try.”
“Awesome,” Bucky grins. “Come see us tomorrow night? We can start that talking through it. And maybe… even if we don’t get started right away, I’m pretty sure Stevie would die for another cuddle.” He gives Tony a wink, and he’s startled into laugher, then a nod.
“All right,” he agrees. “Tomorrow night.”
Bucky’s smile is shark-like, and Tony can’t say he dislikes it. “Can’t wait.”
Steve Rogers is ridiculous.
Of all the things Tony had anticipated leading up to this little negotiation date, which he’d almost cancelled four times between the six hours of dead sleep his body forced him into early this morning and now, this was not one of them. Steve’s got the little leather journal he uses to record new words, complete with fountain pen, and is sitting at their kitchen table, eager to get started.
“Uh… what kind of questions?” Tony asks once Steve has explained the game plan. Bucky is leaning back against the refrigerator, arms crossed, looking amused.
“You know, questions to figure out what you specifically like, what might be off the table, anything that’s especially arousing,” Steve rattles off like he’s denoting a baseball strategy.
“...I thought you were gonna, like, try ideas on me while we were making out,” Tony blurts out. “We can’t just… sit across the table from each other and talk about it like it’s a business meeting!”
Steve raises his eyebrows, but leans forward, like he’s terribly interested. “Why not?”
“Because… I mean, you’re at least supposed to buy a guy a drink first,” Tony splutters. “Because it’s embarrassing!”
At that, though, Steve’s eyes just narrow, and his gaze is suddenly full of a heat Tony’s never had turned on him before. It makes him want to squirm in the wooden chair. “Good,” is all Steve says, before he flips open his notebook again. “So… tell me about the kinds of names you like to be called. Does ‘slut’ feel good? ‘Bitch?’ That kind of thing?”
Tony feels like he’s in an elevator, quickly sinking. Steve’s matter-of-fact, looking at him expectantly, pen poised over the page, and Tony imagines his own name written down on one of Steve’s little lists like just another new technology in the 21st century that Steve needs to unravel. He imagines Steve on Google, typing in “how to get Tony Stark hot.”
“Yes,” he half-whispers. “Those are good.”
“What do you like about those names?” Steve asks, his direct tone reminding Tony of a journalist.
“Um.” He gulps, and Bucky’s sliding a glass of water in front of him. He never heard the tap, or the refrigerator opening, which is probably a sign of something. He just takes a long sip, trying to compose himself. “I like that they make me feel… like I’m only good for one thing,” he manages. “Like I’m… kind of useless, otherwise.”
“Good,” Steve absently notes, writing something down, and Tony feels the flush to his ears. “What about other insults? You like feeling useless, what about… weak, or stupid?”
“No,” Tony replies quickly. He remembers how Sunset had laughed, when he confronted her about the designs she used, after the relationship had ended.
“That’s okay,” Steve soothes, before Tony’s brain can go too far down that rabbit hole. “So it’s mostly sexual humiliation? You like feeling like you’re mostly useful for taking cock?”
“Oh,” Tony whispers, staring at Steve’s mouth. He never expected to hear words like that from Steve, so direct. Even knowing about his relationship with Bucky, he kind of expected whatever sex they were having was tame, romantic, missionary-style. He nods, and Steve’s mouth curls into the first hints of a dirty smile.
“That sounds about right,” Steve declares softly, and Tony feels his dick twitch in his jeans. He feels seen , naked even in all his clothes. “Tell me what else. Do you like objectification?”
“Um… I think so?”
“For example: if I were to tell you that I see you as not much more than a mouth, that I want to put you beside my bed and use that mouth whenever I…”
“ Yes ,” Tony agrees in a rush, leaning forward, wanting to beg Steve for it. Steve just grins and makes a note.
“Buck? Did you have any questions to add?”
“Yeah, right,” Bucky smirks, and Tony turns to see his face, a little dazed. He’s leaning back against a counter now, still easy as can be, but there’s a slight tent in his pants and Tony wants to put his mouth on it. “You’re the master tactician, buddy, you obviously know what you’re doing,” he teases, and Tony turns around to take another sip of water, trying to get his bearings back.
“What, are you gonna… conquer my territory?” Tony jokes, or at least it’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out embarrassingly low and aroused, and Steve just meets his eyes across the table with a dead-on intensity that Tony can’t look away from. He holds Tony’s gaze for ten seconds, maybe, where Tony doesn’t even take a breath, until Steve slowly licks his lips and then goes right back to his notebook, writing something else down. Tony gulps hard.
“Tony, do you have any hard limits that you know of? Things you definitely don’t want to do?” Steve asks, and he actually sounds very slightly rattled, or maybe Tony’s imagining it. He tries to focus, wracks his brain for what’s relevant.
“No bathroom play... like piss and shit, nothing like that,” he clarifies, realizing they’re distant enough from the scene that they might think he literally means ‘no playing in the bathroom.’ “If you want bondage then stay in the room while I’m tied up. No marks I can’t hide, uh… no talk about SI. Don’t leave me alone for too long.” That one’s a little hard to say, makes him feel a bit tender, but he says it nonetheless. “Don’t put major pressure on my chest. Normally I would say condoms, but I know your physiology, so that’s not really a problem here… I think that’s it.”
“Got it,” Steve nods. “If you feel like you’re dissociating, or start to tense up, we want to know about it. I know you’ve been operating like that’s situation normal, but we want to try to avoid those feelings.” Tony’s not sure that’s even possible, but he nods anyway. “What are your safewords?”
“Red for stop. Yellow for pause. Your double-tap works if my mouth’s full,” Tony replies, and at that, he feels his cheeks heat again. Steve’s got that predatory look in his eye, and he slams the notebook definitively closed.
“Good. We can finish this later,” he declares, and at that, Tony’s being yanked up from behind, arms locked under his, and he lets out a startled sound before his brain can tell his body that it’s Bucky, that he’s safe, and even that moment of uncertainty is electric in his body. The chair clatters to the side, kicked, maybe, and Bucky’s plastered against him, chest to back, before Steve surges forward and takes Tony’s face in both hands, kissing him breathless. Tony’s not sure which of them is moaning, but he feels the vibrations around Steve’s tongue in his mouth, and Bucky has a firm grip on his hips that keeps him from grinding even as his body desperately wants to.
“Fuck, I want to wreck you,” Steve mutters against his open mouth, and then Bucky whispers a broken “yeah” into his ear, and Tony’s responding sound is a completely uncontrollable whine.
“Stevie,” Bucky purrs, rolling his dick right up against Tony’s ass, and even though it’s a little high, he whimpers just the same. “Let’s get him into the bedroom. I want to put him on his belly and watch you fuck him bare.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, giving Tony an assessing look that makes him shiver and want to hide except that he can’t , which makes it even better. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
And at that, he’s hauled up into Steve’s arms, legs around his waist, which he might complain about if it were any other context. But for now, fuck it, because they’re making out again, and Steve’s effortlessly hauling him to their bedroom, and that means Tony doesn’t have to wrestle any brain power back from his dick, which is definitely running the show.
“Yeah, he likes that,” Bucky opines, after Steve’s basically flung Tony onto the mattress with a twist that lands him face-down with a bounce. His hands immediately start tugging Tony’s jeans open and down, exposing his ass. “Dirty little slut’s hungry for your cock already.”
“I can see that,” Steve agrees, trailing a finger feather-light down Tony’s crack, so that he pushes his face against the pillows and tries not to squirm. “Didn’t even bother wearing underwear, when he knew he was coming to see us. Clever boy,” he teases, working his hand between Tony’s thighs even as they’re restricted by the jeans at his knees. He gives Tony’s balls a firm squeeze and Tony whines out loud.
“I feel like he should make that a habit,” Bucky muses, and then a metal hand is squeezing at Tony’s ass cheek. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but the way he grips at one spot, then another, makes Tony feel like a piece of meat on display, and that makes him run hot all over.
“Definitely. Do you like this, slut? You like my boyfriend groping you?”
Tony whimpers again, feeling Steve’s fingers as they prod and tease at his balls. Another hand is on his side, holding him still, but he doesn’t know whose. It’s disorienting and makes him feel even more shameless.
“Yes,” Tony gasps. “ Please .”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Bucky coos, the mocking tone hitting something deep in Tony’s belly. “He’s much more polite than you are, Stevie.”
It’s not much of a retort, but then Steve’s obviously busy, pushing into the spot behind Tony’s balls that makes him flush hot and thrust his hips desperately against the bed.
“Aww,” Bucky murmurs again, moving up on the bed and petting Tony’s hair. “Good comedump.”
Tony gasps, his mouth falling open, and Bucky’s quick with a couple fingers to fill it, pressing down on his tongue.
“You like that, baby? You like hearing what you are?”
He nods quickly, mouth opening wider in response to the pressure on his tongue, and Bucky laughs as he strokes it with his fingers. “Sweet little cockslut,” Bucky praises, pushing deeper, breaching Tony’s throat even as he stretches his neck long to accommodate. “Oh, that’s so good. You like taking my fingers down your throat, don’t you?” Tony can’t nod, now, so he just makes a broken sound, feeling the saliva start to pool in his mouth. He’s never had it so sweet, like this, and yet so dirty, humiliation interlaced with praise. He wouldn’t have known to want it, but it fills him up and makes him feel like he’s flying.
“That’s right. You like it rough?” Bucky asks, and Tony moans louder, rewarded with Steve’s hand cupping his ass as his fingers dig deeper into Tony’s taint, and Bucky’s fingers fucking into his throat at the same time, hard enough to make him gag and cough. It doesn’t stop, though, and he’s oh so grateful that Bucky knows to push past his resistance, to let him drown in the dizzying sensation of losing control where his world narrows to nothing but serving as a receptacle for pleasure. Bucky fucks his mouth lazily for a bit, while Steve works a thumb into Tony’s asshole, dry, and then Bucky’s gripping Tony’s jaw with his thumb and pinky, three fingers still lodged in Tony’s throat.
“Good boy,” Bucky purrs. “You’re going to open your ass for Stevie, now, and you’re going to lie on your belly and let him take you while I watch. And you’re going to love it,” Bucky declares, sliding his fingers out and wiping the copious saliva across Tony’s cheek.
“Yes,” he affirms breathlessly, and Bucky just laughs and bends down to kiss his forehead.
“Get his ass up, Rogers. I want a good view.”
“Bossy,” Steve complains, but he still does as he’s told, tugging Tony’s jeans all the way off and grabbing Tony by the hips to cant his ass up in the air and get him on his knees. His chest still on the mattress, Tony feels almost more obviously naked with his shirt still on, knees nudged to spread wider, Steve’s thumbs pulling his asshole apart. One of them, he can’t be sure which, spits on his hole, several times in a row, and he shivers at the feel of spit sliding down his crack before fingers gather it up and push it in. It’s a burn, but Tony’s relaxed from the foreplay and his growing headspace, and it only takes a minute or two for said fingers to twist inside, get deep enough to push against his prostate. It’s almost too much, and he whimpers high in his throat at the sensation, but they just tug his thighs wider and hands start to pet him soothingly, lips pressing to the base of his spine. Again, he doesn’t know who’s who, other than Bucky’s telltale metal hand pressing down between his shoulderblades, and he lets himself float on the uncertainty. As they prepare him, Barnes calls him comeslut and fuckhole and pretty boy and he drifts a little on the words and the sensation, until he’s abruptly brought back to reality with the thick head of Steve’s cock nudging into his asshole.
“Breathe, baby. You can take him,” Bucky promises, lying down along Tony’s side and feeding him two fingers, the metal ones this time. He blinks his eyes open and Bucky’s smiling at him, petting his hair with the free hand as he strokes his tongue. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, sweetness, you just relax your asshole and let him fuck you because he wants to, and you’re a good, obedient hole that always wants to take dick when you get the opportunity.” Tony sucks, the sharp taste of metal filling his mouth, and something gives to let Steve’s cockhead pop inside. It feels insurmountable, almost, and he breathes hard through his nose, huffing like a damn horse, but Bucky just keeps smiling at him, keeps petting his hair. “Thaaat’s it. I know you want to milk his dick until he dumps his load in you,” he murmurs like it’s their little secret. “It’s a lot, now, you know it kind of embarrasses him but the serum had an effect on volume.” Tony’s eyes go wide, and he whimpers around Bucky’s fingers, which makes Bucky beam in turn. “I knew you’d like that. Me, though, I’m not embarrassed. It affects how many times we can go, too. I’ve got some good ideas about how we can mess up this soft skin of yours. I was thinking I’d fuck you, maybe, and then pull out while I’m still coming, so there’s just strings of the stuff dripping out of your hole and maybe I’ll stuff it back in with my fingers, and let you suck them clean, or maybe I’ll let it hang out of you, let you feel it dribbling down onto your balls…”
Tony whines high in his throat, desperately pulling back and trying to get more metal fingers in his mouth, trying to get anything in his mouth. Steve’s fucking him deep, now, if slower than Tony’s might like, hands like vices on his hips. He can feel the bruises blooming, alongside the deep jaw ache he’s going to have in the morning. Bucky chuckles.
“Aw, sweetness, not too many of these, I don’t want to fuck up your dental work,” he teases. “Here, you need your mouth full?” He pulls his fingers out and then scoots over on the pillow to replace them with his tongue, kissing Tony deeply even as his own technique feels clumsy, his mouth going slack. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, licking into Tony’s mouth, pulling at his bottom lip with sharp teeth. Tony’s cries get faster, more desperate, as Steve goes harder on him, speeding up, and Bucky breathes hot against his lips.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s such a good little comedump, let him wreck your hole like that, want him to mark up your insides.”
“Please,” Tony gasps, and Bucky growls in response, tugging at his hair.
“Please what ?”
“Please fuck me up, please wreck my hole, please ruin me,” he babbles, feeling his balls draw up tight as his dick slaps against his stomach with each thrust.
“Damn right I’m gonna ruin you,” Bucky pants against his mouth, even though Steve’s the one doing the fucking at the moment. It doesn’t really seem to matter. “Ruin your sloppy little hole, then keep you as a convenience, right here in our bedroom, maybe shove you in the closet with a toy in your ass so you can just work yourself into a frenzy and be ready for us anytime we need you. How does that sound?”
“Yes,” Tony gasps. “ Please. ” And then Steve’s suddenly shoving up against his ass, jerky little thrusts deep inside Tony’s body, and the warm rush of liquid inside makes him moan aloud. “That’s… I haven’t…” he pants, and Bucky gives him a searching look, trying to interpret.
“You haven’t… oh, fuck ,” Bucky exclaims suddenly, eyes going even darker. “Stevie. I think what the fuckhole is trying to tell us is that you’re literally the first man to come in his ass without a condom. Is that right, fuckhole?” Tony nods quickly, and Bucky groans and kisses him hard, even as Steve echoes that groan and jerks his hips a few more times.
“Jesus,” Steve gasps. “That is so hot. Buck, I can’t even…”
“I know,” Bucky murmurs reverently, barely letting his mouth leave Tony’s. “I know.” And then his grin goes fiery sharp, his hand in Tony’s hair tugging hard again. “I want next.”