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generalluxun · 1 year

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Record Scratch Chapter 9 -fanfiction

Heading home from the failure of the party, emotions are running high. Both Nino and Chloé try to articulate what seems impossible to fit into words. When words fail, what more can be done? Perhaps it is time to find out. Full text after the break.

The further away they got from the hotel the calmer Chloé seemed to get, but the antsier he got. Nino had been the one helping her to the sidewalk. He had tried to be the one to order a cab for them, but his grasp of Spanish failed him. Chloé had managed it through hiccups and starts while he stroked her back. In the car she had resisted for all of about two seconds when he nudged her over across his lap. She pulled out her ponytail, turning her mane into a golden blanket as she lay on her side.

Nino had the distinct impression she was hiding under it, so he gently parted the silken ringlets. “Hey, you okay under there?”

It was a long moment before the one blue orb on the visible side of her face turned up to him. “No."

The slanting strobe of the streetlights across her face cast Beebee into that harsh relief that suited her so. A flurry of black lines from some streetside obstruction put the Queen herself behind bars momentarily. Easy answers died on my lips, and I had only myself to blame. I'd asked, hadn't I?

I ran my hand back through her hair again, trailing my fingers through the untamed ringlets, marveling at the softness. She nestled in without protest. Past the needles, I'd finally found Beebee's tragic gift. Touchable, every part of her was perfectly touchable. She responded in ways to inflame the dimmest of passions. It would be so easy to fall into that touch and forget there was a person inside that skin. How long had it been that I hadn't even bothered looking that close?

"Bee, that guy was just some loser spouting nonsense."

She stole my hand and tucked it under her head, held between her own hands. Her whole body curled up just a little tighter in a way I felt in my chest.

"No. He was right. I don't know where he gets his gossip, but it's impeccable."

I started to argue. I wanted to argue, but how could I? Family dynamics I knew nothing about. The Bourgeois dysfunction was legendary, but few really knew what was really under the surface. So much of it could be true, and I wouldn't do her any favors trying to lie. One thing I could argue though.

It was vital that she believed, and that truth made my voice catch in my throat. "I know where you belong.”

Her eyes stared holes in the back of the driver's seat. "Don't tell me something corny like 'In my arms."

Phantoms danced before my eyes, limbs entwined. "No, Beebee. Nothing corny for a classy dame like you. My answer's better, but harder, too. You sure you want to hear it?"

She glanced back up, wet her lips, and whispered, "Tell me, detective."

"Anywhere. Anywhere you want to belong, Bee. You always had guts enough for ten men. Don't get spooked just because your eyes are finally open."

The corner of her mouth turned up in the slightest of smiles. The genuine happiness behind it lit up her face like the dawn. She rolled that beautiful blue eye, and let out a single soft laugh. "Oh, you're good, Mr. Lahiffe."

Her voice held a sultry lilt straight from the big pictures. A mirror of my own, turned back on me, and shown off in a playful display. Electricity danced along my limbs at being engaged at this level. It was a first, even among my closest friends.

Some crazy part of me had to push my luck, had to test the limits. I never did know when to quit. "Good? Beebee, you have no idea.” I reached up, but my hat was still back in the coat check at the hotel, long abandoned. I still mimed running my hand along the brim that wasn’t there. “Still, sorry about ruining your birthday though.”

That small smile grew, both in size and danger. She turned her head to look up at me, then twisted her body, heaving to roll onto her back across my lap. As her chest arched up, one vision flashed. As her hips rolled down against the seat, I became desperately aware of the fact she was in my lap. Her long legs were bent to fit in the backseat of the car. The crushed velvet of her dress bunched and pulled, the top of one shimmery stocking was revealed. Her next shift brushed it against my hand -Accident? I wasn’t that naive. Nor was I immune. My fingers twitched closer to her thigh, seeking a second ‘accidental’ moment.

The genuine smile curled back into her more usual teasing smirk, but the smile remained in her eyes. “I’ve had a monopoly on ruining them for years. It was about time someone else had a chance, wouldn’t you say? I’m glad you were my first time.”

Her lips drew the last word into a soft sound of pleasure. My mind tried to dig itself out from under a thousand debauches. I wasn’t going to make it out of this playing the gallant straight man. Time to call this little bee’s bluff. I settled my hand on her belly, shocked at how firm it was beneath that thin velvety wrapper. “Well, you helped show me how to be happy again, Beebee. It was only fair I returned the favor with at least one night of pleasure, right?”

Never try to out sin a devil. She took my hand in both of hers and drew it slowly up her body, spreading my fingers over her heart and more. She held it there and spoke in a fragile whisper, “You know the hardest part about giving up being angry, Mr. Lahiffe? It makes room for all kinds of other emotions.”

“Bee-” My voice cracked. My heart was a drum behind my ribs. Those blue eyes held no answers, only questions. I lost the battle… or maybe won.

Nino swallowed a lump that wouldn’t go down, and dipped his head. He flexed his fingers every so slightly against the firm flesh under his touch. “Emotions, like- what?”

Chloé reached up with one of her hands, cupping his cheek. “Let me show-”

The car braking suddenly nearly pitched her out of his lap. Only quick reflexes and Nino’s interposed arm kept her from plastering herself across the back of the driver’s seat. The stream of Spanish that flowed from Chloé’s mouth was largely unknown to him, but he knew enough words -because everyone learns those words first- that he got the idea. The driver’s response was every bit as florid.

They tumbled out of the car together, Chloé straightening her dress to no avail while still pouring invective at their driver without pause. She paid, and Nino saw, even left a tip. But the gesture she had for the driver as he sped off, was anything but gracious.

It was a flush-faced, exasperated, but also positively alive Chloé who turned to him, giving a helpless shrug. “We’d better get to the plane.”

The walk through the concourses and out to Chloé’s waiting jet were a study in disassociation. The mundanity of the act let the better part of Nino drift back into a reality where they were still in the car… or was it a bedroom… or did it even matter?

He took sidelong glances as they walked, trying to gauge her own reaction. She’d been playing the game, were those words just the musings of the role? They’d… collided… several times now. Emotions were high, for both of them though. Even if he enjoyed… whatever this was- friendship? -Hanging out? -Was this a date? There was still a list longer than his arm of all the ways this could be a bad idea. Nino squirmed internally; the voice reading off the reasons sounded like Alya. Alya. That sent him down a totally different rabbit hole of grief, uncertainty, and guilt.

He still glanced at Chloé as they walked in silence, but now each thought had two edges.

Her hair is so soft… –What? Alya’s is better!

Even when she’s in stomping mode, she still has grace about her… –Alya’s spunky trot was the best!

He remembered her nails in his hair. They could claw or pet at a whim. –you’re being unfaithful!

No! He had too long to think. He wanted to stop, to stop comparing them, to stop pining, to stop feeling like he was bad just for wondering, for finding someone else attractive. He wanted this instinctive loyalty to stop. It was supposed to stop, right? That is what the breakup was all about, being free. Then why do I feel trapped for the first time in my life?

“Coming?”

Nino looked up, he hadn’t realized they’d arrived. He’d been walking with his hands in his pockets and his head in the sand. Chloé was already on the steps up to the plane, looking over her shoulder. Nino tried to find the word ‘yes’ but it was elusive. As he stood there lost she turned and reached back a hand to him.

Nino took it.

“Sorry.” he murmured. “I got to thinking.”

“Nothing good I imagine. I have that effect on people.”

Nino stepped up onto the narrow staircase, bringing them together. “No. I mean, no it’s not good, but it’s not you. Well, you’re involved. It’s just- I’m trying to figure out how to let my past be my past?”

As soon as he said it, he realized who he was saying it to. Perhaps that realization saved him, he wore it plainly. A sharp flash in those royal blue eyes softened. A barb went unsent. Instead Chloé simply answered, “If you ever find out, please tell me the secret.”

She turned and climbed the rest of the way into the plane. Nino trailed after. Great, now I’ve dragged her down with me.

They took their seats, and an unease gripped Nino. It was like an itch in his head. Something felt… off. He tried to track it down. He glanced out the window. Nope, wing is still there. He checked his phone, scrawling through conversations with each of his friends and his calendar, looking for something he had missed. He realized as he was scrolling through year-old texts, that he was rubbing the fingers on his other hand together.

Nino looked at his fingers, then following the sensation, looked across at his travel companion. She’s so far away.

The thought gave the feeling life. Touch is her tragic gift. Did it have to be, though? Nino’s fingers itched, and he knew the cure. He reached out slowly, his hand crossing the aisle between them. Once more he held his breath, there was the familiar spice of not knowing, but it was flavored with an even more potent feeling now: Hope.

Would she- The space was too wide between them for contact to be anything but awkward, unless she-

Chloé reached out with her hand, her eyes averted, diffusing the gesture. They met in the middle; his hand catching hold of hers, hers squeezing. Only once they’d made the contact did she look at him. Questions in those eyes, even without the film grain heightening everything.

Nino squeezed back. “Thanks.”

The reply this time was small, not a hint of smirk. “I was going to say that.”

“I think I liked the car better.” The past growled at how many different ways that statement could be read. Nino fought it.

Something flashed in Chloé’s eyes. She curled her wrist, pulling his hand a little closer to her. “Things are easier when you're playing a role. It can get you into trouble though, take it from me."

Nino tugged back. "No, that's not what I meant."

The plane started to roll and Nino glared towards the pilot's cabin. In the heat of the moment let fly with a string of Darija that would have gotten him scolded back home. When what he'd done caught up to him, Nino felt his cheeks heat up. When he looked back at Chloé though, his embarrassment evaporated.

Her lips were parted, and her eyes wide. In those blue depths was a reaction so clear- "I have no idea what you said, but you said it perfectly."

Tension to laughter, Nino started to reply but the jet's engines roared into high gear. He rolled his eyes. Chloé covered her mouth in another girlish giggle. He raised his voice even as he straightened up in the seat for takeoff. "We're not done. I'll explain after take off."

They held hands for the entire ascent. The roar and pressure of the plane squeezed extraneous thought aside. Nino kept himself here and now.

When the jet leveled off, Nino looked back to Chloé, he found her eyes already on him. The thrill that discovery caused helped bolster his nerves. He jerked his head towards his side of the jet. "C'mere, Bee."

Chloé unbuckled herself and stood. She made a production of smoothing down her beleaguered dress. Nino swore her hands lingered the same places his eyes did. She stepped across, settling herself ever so daintily onto the edge of his knee with her hands folded primly in her lap. Once there, she eyed him with all the innocence of a newborn succubus.

Nino hooked her waist and pulled her in against him. Her squeal of surprise retained that ticklish energy. With a girl who could look him in the eye, sharing a seat left them at a disparity completely new to him. The expanse of her neck and bare shoulders was right there…

"This is what I meant about liking the car better."

Nino leaned in, nuzzling the side of her neck just once. She'd teased him plenty of times, turnabout was fair. Is this really teasing, though?

Her response was intoxicating. The rise into his touch, the twist and squirm against his chest. The sound that resonated in her throat, never quite escaping her body. A touch here, a caress there, an instrument only the Divine itself could craft. Nino longed to hear the music they could make. If only-

He raised his head, searching. Her eyes met his and he still could not be certain. He didn't want it to be just a game. Whatever it would be, he wanted her to mean more than that; to him, and even moreso, to herself.

"Bee-"

Her hands came up, fingers splayed against his chest for support. She shimmied closer, to the tune of threads pulling and fabric ripping.

"Sonava-" Chloé growled, twisting to look down at her back.

Nino let out a frustrated growl too, another first for him.

Chloé looked back at him, and her moue of annoyance transformed into a smirk. "This dress was a bad choice for the night anyway. I did bring one other outfit, suitable for the occasion, with me. It's so much more comfortable anyway. Why don't I go and change?"

Nino gave her a chagrined smile. “It might be for the best. I feel like we’re being played by a higher power tonight, or warned.”

Chloe slid out of his lap and he instantly missed her warmth. She gave him an incongruously pixie-like blink-and-grin, then walked towards the back while putting her hair back up. “Be right back. Miss me.”

He turned his head as she started off. “Count on it.”

With that he was left with his thoughts, frustrations, and uncomfortably tight pants. Nino shifted in his seat and took several deep breaths, trying to bring everything back down to earth; it was not a winning battle.

Maybe tomorrow, or, the next day. I can try something with candles, a dinner, something romantic. Would she even set foot in my place? I could say it was a surprise. She wouldn’t laugh… I don’t think. If it’s my place I’ve got to make sure no one’s around. When does Chris have his next game? I have the keycard, maybe I could set up a surprise at her place. That… wouldn’t be creepy right? Or maybe I could come visit her as Carapace. I could arrive on her balcony, Cat Noir visits Marinette that way, so it’s legit right? Though I doubt he’s doing it for the same reason. Maybe I shouldn’t though, she might still be sore about the hero-thing. She did bring it up when we first met th-

Nino’s inner ramble was interrupted by Chloé’s hands brushing against his head from behind. Her nails sent sparks as they dragged against his scalp. Her hands stopped, taking hold of his glasses. Her voice was a whisper that threw gasoline on those sparks, “How much can you see, without these on?”

Nino swallowed, but forced himself not to turn his head. “Not much, near or far.”

“Hmmm, they’d better stay on then. I don’t want you to miss a thing.”

Nino laughed nervously. He could feel the need to fall back into film rising, but he fought it. Whatever happened, it was going to be Nino Lahiffe, Lycée student, part time DJ, and occasional superhero, that it happened to. “So, can I peek at the new look now?”

Her hands slipped down to his shoulders, a brief massage. “Not yet, I’ll tell you when.”

She let go and this time took all his troubled thinking with her. There was no end to what she might come up with. Everything from devilry to snuggly paraded through his mind. The urge to turn, to see what she was up to was high. Was she back in the rear compartment right now, or waiting to spring some new trap on him?

A blue shape flew past his peripheral, but expanded as it went, slowing and drifting to the ground in a small heap; Chloé’s dress.

From behind him, “Damnit, that was supposed to keep going and look cool!”

Nino was gripping the armrests in a stranglehold, a roulette wheel of possibilities was spinning. “Can I look yet?”

“Not yet!” Her voice was harried. The cabin lights dimmed.

The wheel was slowing in his head *tk tk tk*

“You can look now.” This time, her voice was soft, ethereal.

Nino held his breath, and turned. It availed him nothing, his breath was stolen the second he laid eyes on her.

A living statue stood before him, a shadowy profile in the dim lighting. Black and gold of the richest variety. Hips turned to the side, one leg straight, the other bent, Chloé’s back was arched far enough to allow her arms to extend fully over her head even in the confines of the jet. Her signature ponytail hung down, very nearly completing the full arc back to the ground. She wore- nothing.

His eyes drank her in, doubts be damned; every line, every slender curve, the dance-sculpted muscle that normally lay hidden beneath silk and fashion, that hidden power he had seen and even felt once before in motion, but never fully comprehended. Nino had to shake the daze from his head to focus, and realize: she was watching him as he stared. Succubus? No. She was a nymph. There was only one question in those eyes.

Nino rose and stepped towards her. She twisted in her pose, grace vanishing into uncertainty masked by desperate poise. The fact that her motion revealed the very last of her secrets was lost on Nino. He couldn’t look away from those eyes. He wouldn’t. She meant more than that.

Chloé’s nerves joked, “You like it? It’s the suit for the occasion. I’ve had it for years, though it needs some adjusting every year.” Her forced laugh gave lie to the tease. It died quickly.

Nino walked the few steps without speaking. He didn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing, not to screw up. Screw up what?... Whatever this is. Whatever she is. I want–

He ran out of room between them.

She clasped her hands together now, shuffling. Two words, “Say something.” The first a demand, the second a plea.

Nino cupped Chloé’s cheek. Two words, “You’re beautiful.” The first an apology, the second a confession.

He kissed the reply from her lips. Gently at first, but a hunger denied and buried demanded its due. He held her face in his hands. She gripped the front of his shirt. He renewed the kiss, the world outside this moment forgotten. The *pop* of flying buttons as she ruined his shirt had a musical quality all of its own. Nino gasped into the kiss and let his hands slide down, pulling her to him. Her hands snaked into his shirt, fingers exploring, nails threatening. He wanted all of her. They kissed anew. He staggered off balance a step as she skittered back. Turbulence, but nothing outside the plane could match what was happening within at this point.

Nino breathed against her lips, “I want-”

Chloé cooed in return, “Please.”

He followed the sleek line of her hips, and his hands drifted back, cupping her backside and once more feeling the firm muscle beneath soft skin. The very first moment he had dared to touch her came back in vivid detail. This time, there was no silk to offer them decency. Neither of them wanted anything decent anyway.

Chloé caught hold of his belt and pulled. At first he thought she was fighting his buckle, but she stepped back and pulled again. He stumbled after her, a man lost and uncaringly so. She pulled him to the rear cabin, and within a bed where silk once more took a part.

It was unlike anything he had known before. She was unlike anything he had known before. In that eternal moment, he was unlike anything he had known before. She was bold, aggressive, and seemed determined to memorize every inch of him this very night. Yet in turn she was at times timid, lost; following his lead without a sound, save the cries drawn from between gasping lips.

When the moment came, she was astride him, triumphant and glorious. As the rush overtook him, those two blue eyes looked down with a selfish glee. She collapsed down on him, kissing away her momentary greed with soft, soothing words and one last coaxing wiggle of her hips.

They lay together, apart from the concept of time. Nino stroked down her back, even in his haze still marveling at the muscles hidden beneath her deceptively fragile surface. He had an inkling now of just what they could do. Chloé cuddled down on him, arms tucked in against his chest, tracing the contour of his collarbone with a fingertip.

She broke the silence first. “Best. Birthday. Ever.”

Nino opened his mouth to speak, but a long sigh of contentment found its way out first. He murmured in its wake, “Am I allowed to agree?”

She responded by slipping off of him and rolling into a languorous stretch that took her off the bed in three different places at once. Airline luxury still had its limits. She cuddled back in and replied with deliberately false innocence, "So, you're saying I did good?"

Nino chuckled, still floating. Everything was funny, everything was good. He snuggled her against him. "Fishing for compliments?"

"A girl's allowed to be a little nervous her first time."

Nino's mind blanked, then rapidly replayed the last several weeks. None of it added up. He must've spent time in those memories because she reached up, turning his head with a hand on his cheek, and kissed him with the gentle kiss he had taught her himself.

Gallantry protested, "But you never said- I would have-"

"What?" She challenged gently. "What would you have done differently?"

Conventional wisdom persisted, "Still…"

Chloé sat up. She pulled out her ponytail and let her hair form a canopy over him. In that shadowy halflight the challenge when from gentle to sincere. "Then let's do it all again, right now. It won't be the first, and you can indulge your every hunger guilt free."

Gallantry be damned.

Nino pulled her back down, and together they roiled the bedsheets again. A tête-à-tête of lust passed between them, each attempting to outdo the other. At the penultimate moment he had her wrists pinned over her head, while her legs ensnared his hips just as completely. The plane dropped into final descent; climax in freefall.

This time they simply lay in exhaustion where they fell. Landing, taxiing, and shut down taking place in the distant background.

Eventually came a knock on the cabin door, and a, "Mademoiselle?" that was obvious in it's attempted discretion. Cabin walls were thin after all, and Nino had discovered Chloé could sing just as well as she could dance.

Chloé unwound herself from him and sat up. One hand lay on his chest still as she called out. "Be out in a few minutes. Have the limo brought around."

Nino managed to sit up, though he wanted nothing more than what he felt would be his most complete sleep in months. He reached for his glasses, they hadn't survived the second round in place. With vision restored he dug for his phone -Chloé's was still out in the main cabin with her… everything- Eleven o'clock. He watched Chloé for a few moments as she worked to restore her tousled hair to its ponytail.

He asked the obvious, "So, what happens now?"

#ml fanfiction #chloe bourgeois #nino lahiffe #DJBling #miraculous ladybug

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eurynome827 · 3 years

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A Whiskey & A Dance

A/N: see this post for the picture that inspired this story. This story is a standalone oneshot and is not connected with my other 1940s Bucky stories.

1940s preserum Steve x Bucky x reader (female)

Word Count: 3,033

Warnings: 18+ ONLY for m x m x f (taking turns), protected sex (this is the 40s so I used the word 'rubbers'), loss of virginity (Steve), oral (m receiving), smoking and alcohol, masturbation, language and dirty talk, cumplay, Steve is having thoughts about Bucky that he's trying to understand but there are no overt acts of Stucky in this fic.

By clicking the Read More below, you affirm that you are 18+ as this fic contains adult content!

"Slow down already, punk!" Steve struggled to keep up with Bucky's quick footsteps on the sidewalk, sidestepping the other pedestrians, out of breath and wheezing. "What's the big rush? Afraid you'll miss out on your doll?"

Bucky stopped suddenly on the pavement and Steve ran right into his back, damn near bouncing off. "First off, jerk, she's not a doll. She's a dame." Bucky emphasized the word, drawing it out with a raised eyebrow. "And tonight's not for me. It's for you."

Bucky whirled and took off down the sidewalk again as Steve shook his head, dazed. "For - for me? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you - dancing. Smooching. Maybe more." The mischief on Bucky's face made Steve swallow, hard. He pulls on Bucky's arm to stop him again.

"Buck...you didn't...pay her, did you?"

"Will you listen to yourself?" Bucky pulled his arm from Steve's grip. "No, I didn't pay her. She's not like that. She just likes to have fun. Lots of fun."

Steve can't help himself. "Have you...had fun with her?"

Bucky nods, but it's written all over his face anyway. "Oh yeah."

"What's she like?"

Bucky looks up towards the two stars visible in the Brooklyn sky. "Like heaven, Stevie. Like walking through the gates to heaven."

The dance hall is loud and crowded when they arrive, and Steve's heart is hammering in his chest. He stares listlessly at the bodies moving on the dance floor until Bucky elbows him.

"There she is..."

You're not like any other girl Steve has seen.

You're definitely older than the other girls they know, and Steve doesn't recognize you from when they were in school. Your heels are a little higher, your dress is tighter and your smile is knowing, worldly. Bucky mentioned that you have your own apartment and you work in Manhattan, someone's secretary or something. You're drinking whiskey in a glass stained with the red of your lipstick and Steve's mesmerized by the column of your neck as you lean back to swallow. Bucky's right - you're not a doll, you're a dame. A woman.

"C'mon, Steve, let's dance."

You hand your glass to Bucky and grab Steve's hand and he's afraid for a moment that his palms are too sweaty or that you can hear how hard it is for him to breathe. The music changes from a fast song to a slow one, and you take Steve's hands and put them on your waist, drawing him in close. You're looking at him like he's the only guy in Brooklyn and in that moment nothing else matters - just you and your red lips and your perfume in his nose tickling the back of his throat.

"Bucky said maybe we could go back to my place and have a few drinks." You're whispering in Steve's ear, and you giggle when a shiver runs down his spine, his hands trembling on your waist. "Would you like that, Steve?"

"Y-yeah. Let's go."

You sneak the boys in through a side door, you tell them it's to avoid the nosy landlady. Bucky and Steve tiptoe up the stairs behind you and wait while you unlock the door and then you grab them both by the lapels of their jackets and pull them inside, your giggles floating out into the hallway. Bucky is laughing softly and he ducks his head to kiss the back of your neck while you're locking the door from the inside and Steve wonders again what am I doing here? What's going on?

"Let's have a drink, gentlemen," you kick off your shoes and grab the bottle of whiskey off the counter in the kitchenette. Bucky's taking three glasses out of the cabinet and it's clear he's been here more than once. You take a cigarette from your pack and offer one to Bucky, who takes it but opens a window before lighting yours, and then his.

"Oh," you look over at Steve, "will you be alright with the smoke?"

"He's fine with the window open," Bucky answers, sitting on the couch and leaning his head back, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

You pour out the whiskey, three glasses neat. The cigarette is perched between your pouting lips and Steve's mesmerized. He's never been in a place like this with a woman like you. You catch him staring and smile, soft and knowing.

"I'm going to get comfortable. Is that alright, Steve?" You ask, voice low as you hand him a glass. Bucky smirks at you when you hand him the other glass.

"Um, sure," Steve answers, taking a tiny sip and wincing at the burn. "I don't mind."

You drink, and Steve's watching your neck as you swallow again, everything about you soft but sophisticated, in Steve's eyes anyway. Putting down your glass and the cigarette in the ashtray, you unbutton your dress with your eyes on Steve the whole time. His mouth goes dry, his body feels numb, and he knows he's staring as your skin is revealed to him but he can't stop himself. You toss your dress on a chair, pick up your cigarette and lounge on the couch, next to Bucky in only your undergarments and stockings.

Steve can't breathe and it has nothing to do with the smoke. Bucky draws lazy circles on the inside of your thigh with his fingertips, and you open your legs wider for him but your eyes are fixed on Steve. You sigh before drawing more smoke into your lungs, exhaling a cloud around you and Bucky that looks like a magic spell hanging in the room.

"Do you want to touch me too?" You ask, quietly, like you're trying not to frighten him off. "I want you to. I like to play." Your lips curl up in a smile, and you put the cigarette in the ashtray again to beckon him forward, crooking your finger with a mischievous giggle. "Come here, Steve. Come and play with us."

Steve's mouth and throat go dry, and he takes a drink but starts coughing when the whiskey burns down his throat. You shake off Bucky's hand and stand up from the couch, walking to Steve and cooing, "oh, sweet baby boy, are you alright?" Steve's eyes nearly pop out of his head when you kneel in front of him, rubbing your hands up his thighs closer to where he's suddenly hard in his pants at the sight and presence of you. One of your hands rubs over his clothed cock and his head falls back, his eyes closed as he struggles to control himself.

"Steve," you're whispering, your hands unbuttoning his pants, "I know you want me, and I want you too. Will you let me make you feel good, baby?" A strangled moan escapes from Steve's throat as your hands grasp him and pull him free and he opens his eyes in time to see you lick the head, humming at the taste.

It's too much, and he has no experience and he knows he'll embarrass himself. "I can't - I won't be able to -"

"Yes, you will. Let me take care of you." Your red lips smile at him once more before you take Steve in your mouth, lipstick smearing on his skin and he raises his hips before he can stop himself, completely lost in the warmth of your mouth. You hum again, swirling your tongue and holding his hips, pushing him back down to sit and looking up to catch his eye, looking filthy and beautiful with your mouth full of him. Steve thinks he may have to close his eyes again but then he looks over and sees Bucky.

Bucky - he's unbuttoned his shirt, dog tags laying on his chest. His hair's a mess from how many times he's pushed his fingers through it, his lips are bitten swollen and pink from how aroused he is and his hand is slowly fisting his hard cock, watching you suck Steve further down your throat.

Steve's pretty sure this sinning will be worth a lot more than ten Hail Mary's, but he's in for whatever reckoning is coming his way. He gasps, feeling himself getting too close, but you know too and you pull off, tightening your hand at the base of his cock and holding him off. "I told you," you say breathlessly, "I'd take care of you." You surge up to capture his lips, rubbing off what's left of your lipstick on his mouth. You lick along his bottom lip, and Steve opens his mouth, letting you tangle your tongue with his and tasting himself in your mouth.

Steve's still painfully hard, but he could kiss you all night long. He wants to touch you but he's not sure where to put his hands, finally resting them on your shoulders and pulling you closer. Steve thinks you're about to straddle his lap and he's wondering how he'll control himself with that when you suddenly giggle and pull away from Steve's mouth and he opens his eyes.

Bucky's behind you, his hands smoothing over your skin, his mouth pressing open, wet kisses along the skin on your back and shoulders. "Sorry, sugar," he murmurs into your skin, his nimble fingers pulling the straps down your arms, "I couldn't wait to touch you."

"Bucky," you try to scold, but your voice is light and amused, "you have to be patient. Steve's first, remember?"

Steve watches as Bucky strips you, his eyes following Bucky's hands and breathing hard at every curve revealed to him. Bucky cups your breasts and teases your nipples with his thumbs as you lean your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes in pleasure. "Bucky," you whine, "you're being bad."

"You love it," he chuckles in your ear, and Steve watches as Bucky slides a hand down to feel you between your legs. "Stevie, she's so wet for us," Bucky licks his lips and winks at his best friend. "Told ya you'd have a good time tonight."

Steve laughs, nervously. Part of him still can't believe he's here, that Bucky would share you with him and give him this experience. But then you're slapping Bucky's hands away with a soft, "behave," and pulling on his dog tags to bring him in for a rough kiss that has Bucky's hands wandering again. "Patience," you breathe out when you break away again. Bucky grins and kisses your forehead before helping you to your feet and extending a hand to Steve as well.

"The lady says you're first, pal," Bucky teases, and you pull Steve to your bed as Bucky follows.

"Why don't you lay down on your back," you tell Steve, pushing him back gently. "I'll take care of you, remember?"

Steve nods, his heart racing. He lays back on the mattress and watches you rummage in the drawer by your bed. You pull out rubbers - you're a real woman - and you straddle Steve with one in your hand. "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes, ma'am."

You smile, and lean over to kiss him, and Steve shivers at the feeling of your bare skin against his. You're so warm and wet between your legs and Steve can't believe this is really happening. "Do you trust me?" You ask, whispering into his ear.

"Yes!" Steve answers quickly, nodding when you sit up and take him in hand, rolling the rubber on and soothing him when he hisses at how sensitive he is. Then you're hovering over him, lining him up and sinking down - and oh shit Bucky was right.

Heaven. Like walking into heaven.

Steve lets his hands slide up your body as you roll your hips, touching all those valleys and curves he watched Bucky touch. He's drinking in your sounds and moans and he's loud too, he can't help it with how good you're making him feel. He fights to keep his eyes open and watch you above him, but he's falling fast and he can't stop himself. "I'm - I can't stop -" he stutters out, biting his lip, and you lean down to hold his hands and rock against him harder.

"You don't have to stop," you tell him, breathing hard, "I want you to feel good, Steve."

You're squeezing him inside you and he can't hold back, filling the rubber with a loud shout. You slow your movements, riding out his orgasm, and you kiss him hard before rolling off to lay on the bed next to him.

Steve's quiet, staring at the ceiling with a grin on his face, and you giggle and curl into his side. He's almost forgotten about Bucky - until he appears at the foot of the bed, rubber already rolled on and pulling at your ankle impatiently.

"Hope you had fun, punk, but now it's my turn."

You laugh, and move to your hands and knees, winking at Bucky over your shoulder before turning your gaze back to Steve.

"Should I go?" Steve asks, unsure, and you shake your head, balancing yourself to reach for his hand.

"No, sweet boy, you stay right there, and if you want to play more we can, but -" your voice is cut off by your moan as Bucky's pushes inside you, his hands gripping your hips. He leans over to brush a kiss to your shoulder before starting a quick and rough pace.

"But it's my turn now," Bucky groans out the words, jaw clenched and lips bitten. His dog tags bounce as he thrusts into you, and you - you're a vision, fists clutching the blanket, back arched, breasts bouncing and when you open your eyes you smile at Steve.

Steve's eyes are wide and he can't stop watching. He can't believe it but he feels himself starting to stir again, and he hurriedly removes and ties off the rubber, tossing it on the floor in a daze. Not like you care where he throws it, because the headboard's banging against the wall now with how hard and fast Bucky is fucking you.

"Can't get enough of you, you know that," Bucky's muttering, and your head falls to the mattress, moaning in response. "Dreaming about you, about fucking you everywhere, getting my head up your skirt and not caring who sees."

Steve can't believe the words coming out of Bucky's mouth, and the wild look in his eyes. Then those eyes drift to him, and Bucky grins, letting go of your hips for a moment to push his hair out of his eyes.

"You like this, Stevie? You like sharing a girl?"

Steve nods, too stunned to speak, and wraps his hand around his cock, stroking as he watches. He's not sure what he wants, but he wants more and he can't stop watching you, or Bucky.

You wail, something's happened and Steve's not sure what. Bucky pulls out of you and rolls you over and your head lands close to Steve's shoulder. You look up at Steve and smile, your eyes glassy and unfocused. Bucky crawls over you and licks a drop of sweat from between your breasts and you whimper. "Gonna cum for me again, baby?" Bucky asks you, softer now.

"Yeah, want more, Buck. Need more." Your voice is rough, and the slight begging tone shoots straight to Steve's cock.

Bucky grins, charming and roguish, and leans down to kiss you before sitting up and positioning himself between your legs again. Steve is mesmerized as he watches Bucky slide inside you again, watches the way Bucky's eyes roll back at the feel of you and watches how your chest rises and falls with the effort to breathe. Steve syncs his strokes with Bucky's thrusts into you, steady but longer this time, dragging in and out of you and making you moan.

You look up at Steve and then back at Bucky, and he understands what you want.

"Touch our girl, Stevie," Bucky says, nodding to him. "Let's make her feel good, huh?"

Steve nods, rolling on his side and figuring as long as he has permission he'll do what he's wanted to all night long. He lowers his head to your breast and sucks your nipple into his mouth, his hand keeping a steady pace over his hardening cock as your whimpers drive him faster and faster. His tongue flicks around you and Bucky suddenly groans.

"She's squeezing me, Stevie, she likes that," he encourages, and Steve lifts his head before moving to the other breast and sees Bucky wet his thumb in his mouth and then start rubbing you on a spot between your legs. You lurch up, back arched, and Steve files that away to ask Bucky about later.

"Bucky! Steve!" You're crying their names, and Bucky speeds up.

"Cum for us, darlin'," he demands, low and husky. "I'm right there with you. Look at Steve, he's gonna paint you up all pretty."

Steve looks at Bucky, and then down at his own hand flying over his cock, and he realizes what Bucky's saying. Is he - is that what he's supposed to do? You're wailing again, eyes closed and mouth open, and Steve shouts, his mess covering your breasts.

"Fuck..." Bucky swears, and thrusts into you twice more before he cums into rubber, pulling out of you slowly and collapsing onto the bed on your other side.

Steve watches you and Bucky, stunned silent. Your eyes open slowly and you look up at Steve, and you start giggling.

"You should see your face right now, Steve. Are you okay?"

Bucky looks over, and snorts. "Punk can't believe his good luck."

Steve smiles at you, sheepish. "Yeah, something like that, I guess."

You lift your hand, cupping Steve's cheek. "Was it a good first time, baby?"

Steve holds his hand on yours, moving to press a kiss to your palm. "Yes."

Bucky removes and ties off his rubber and looks over at Steve. "Do me a favor, grab a cloth from over there," he points, "and help me clean up our girl. She takes care of us, and we take care of her."

You move your other hand to Bucky's cheek, smiling up at him. "You were right. This was a really good idea."

#a whiskey and a dance #1940s preserum steve x bucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #divider by imerdwarf #steve rogers #bucky barnes #female reader

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