Supersoldiers in Paris | sex pollen
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader x John Walker WC: 8.9k
Description: Retrieving vials from an abandoned Red Room facility gets you infected with sex pollen. You may have to make a stop in Paris with John and Bucky before you can get back home.
Tags/warnings: fem!reader, smut, sex pollen, long buildup, dirty thoughts, super soldier threesome, oral male & fem!rec, piv, quinjet sex, praising, begging, overstimulation. Bit of humor, Yelena makes an appearance. Not beta read.
Note: It’s finally here!!! This was requested by many lovely people so here you go 🤭 this is quite long, but who says porn can’t have plot? all I can say is enjoy the super soldier duo 🫶🏼
archive | masterlist | johnny’s version | clark’s version
You barely remember what the mission briefing said. Something about an old Red Room facility, decommissioned after Yelena’s family had taken it down. You were sent there to gather any biochemical weapons left behind.
The place was massive. The air was thick with dust, reeking of rust and chemicals. Endless concrete hallways stretching in complete darkness. Bucky and John walked ahead of you, flashlights, guns and shield raised, cautiously swiping the dark corridor.
Yelena was instructed to wait back at the jet as comm support, in case things went sideways.
"Path's clear, let's go," John's voice echoed on the walls as Bucky trailed right behind him. "Stay sharp. Even when they say it's abandoned, we don't know what or who we'll find here."
Your boots crunched over broken glass as you swept your flashlight.
"I doubt anything’s alive in here," you claimed, gasping when your flashlight caught a string of webs nested on a corner you were passing through, "... except for spiders," you scowled, walking faster to catch up with Bucky ahead of you.
"Spiders I can deal with," Bucky said, slightly looking over his shoulder to acknowledge the way you got closer to him. "It's the shit they left behind that worries me."
"You should find the vault's door right around the corner guys." Yelena announced through the comms.
The corridor opened into a tall, heavy, reinforced steel door.
"Looks like our stop," John said, running his fingers over the keypad but it was useless.
"I got it," Bucky stepped in, placing the gun on his holster and holding the flashlight between his teeth to place his hands on the door.
Bucky groaned, with a curl of his metal arm and a grinding screech, the vault hinges gave way, sliding the door open.
The room in front of you was completely dark. You stepped inside cautiously, flashlights catching multiple metal boxes scattered around, labeled in a language you didn’t understand. A thick layer of dust covered every surface, the sealed time capsules of the Red Room's worst secrets. Bucky walked around the room reading the labels, stopping on the one he recognized as 'biological'.
"Jackpot," John mumbled, making his way to Bucky.
It was a smaller crate compared to the rest, perched on top of a bigger one. You brushed your gloved hand over the container, the latch immediately clicking open with unsettling ease, revealing what was inside.
Six neatly cushioned vials glowing faintly in the dark.
The clear glass was filled with gold specks suspended in air, the dust shimmering brighter when your light passed over it. Bucky leaned in closer, eyes narrowing like he recognized it, but he didn't say a word.
"...uh, what is that?" you asked, noticing the way Bucky tensed up at your side.
"Looks like glitter," John squinted, already reaching to grab one out of the box.
"Walker, don't touch that–" Bucky protested, but John had already picked the vial.
A loud siren rang immediately, the dark room suddenly lit up in red lights that pulsed in time with the alarm. A metallic screech echoed in the vault, the steel door Bucky had forced open slammed shut again with a heavy clang, trapping you in.
"Shit–" John cursed, placing the glass vial back where it belonged. "Shit. Shit. Shit."
"Yeah shit, Walker! We're locked in!" you groaned.
You looked up just in time to see a fine cloud of gold shimmer, hissing into the air like a burst of fireworks. It rained down on you before you could react. The glittering haze hung in the air, shimmering under the emergency lights, curling into your throat with every breath.
"Fuck–" you stumbled back, coughing.
Bucky shoved the crate shut to pick it up, dragging you behind him by instinct as you made your way back to the door. His jaw was tight, eyes sharp, like he'd seen this before.
"Don't breathe it in."
"Bit late for that!" you rasped, still coughing.
"Barnes, what is this?" John demanded, already trying to force the sealed steel door. The metal didn't even budge.
Bucky didn't answer right away. His arm braced you steady as you blinked trying to come back to your senses, and his gaze flicked over your glassy eyes under the red lights.
"We gotta get her out of here," he said to John, who nodded and went back to force the door again.
"I'm fine," you insisted, even as your chest ached, the air too hot in your lungs. "It's just dust–"
"No," he snapped. "It's not."
John turned from the door, breathing heavy but steady in comparison to you. "Door's heavier than before. Reinforced."
Bucky just nodded, placing the crate carefully on the floor before placing himself next to John, both supersoldiers trying to open the door now.
"Yelena," you desperately called into comms, fumbling with the earpiece. "Yelena, come in. We got trapped!" you insisted but nothing came back. "Dammit!"
Seems like you were stuck in here.
For three minutes, you told yourself you were fine. It was just dust. Just harmless glitter. You already coughed it out, you were standing, breathing, moving just fine. Really.
But then a tingling started.
At first, it was a crawl up the back of your neck. Then, heat all over your body, like the room's temperature was increasing by the minute.
What the hell?
The room suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were closing in on you. And after a few seconds it hit you, like a memory yanked out of nowhere.
Valentina. The vault.
"Oh my god ... are we in an incinerator again?" You panicked, voice cracking before you could stop the words from coming out.
Bucky and John froze on their spots.
Their heads whipped around from where they'd been bracing against the door, their bewildered faces fixed on you now.
"...What?" John asked carefully.
"It's the– the temperature," you explained, gesturing around, but they just raised his eyebrows in more confusion. "You don't feel that?"
John frowned, leaving his spot on the door to get closer, eyes scanning you. "It's not hot in here. Vents are still running," he affirmed, lifting his gloved hand to your forehead, hissing when his fingers touched your skin. "Jesus, you're burning up."
"No, no. I'm fine. Must be the adrenaline," you shook your head, stepping back from him. "I'm just... it's the lights, it feels the same when Valentina tried to... you know," you shrugged, trying to brush it off.
"Right ... the vault," John nodded hesitantly. It did feel quite similar, without the fire burning you to death, of course.
"Yeah," you said quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Forget about it, it's just me being dramatic."
But you could feel the sweat trickling down your spine. The heat wasn't in the room, it was inside you. Bucky's gaze flicked between you and the sparkly dust still hanging in the air, not really believing for a second what you were saying.
You really had to get out of there.
"Walker," Bucky snapped, turning back to the door with determination. "I need your help over here."
John didn't argue, but only turned after giving you a look that said he didn't quite believe you either. He crossed the vault in a few strides and planted his shoulder against the door beside Bucky.
You tried to move, tried to be useful, but your body felt heavier, like your bones weren't holding you together anymore. The alarm screamed overhead. Your pulse beating in your ears, and there was this indescribable heat pooling in between your thighs.
"It's fine. I'm fine. Not like this is the first time I've been locked in a vault," you mumbled, tried to reason with yourself.
You shifted your stance without thinking, thighs pressing together, almost making you whimper.
All you could do was zone out, turning around as both super soldiers pushed shoulder to shoulder, muscles straining, throats grunting as they threw their combined weight against the reinforced steel.
And god that sound, the deep, rough groans of pure brute force snapped your head around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.
Suddenly, you weren't zoning out anymore. Your eyes were on them.
You saw Bucky's jaw clenched tight, veins standing out his neck, the plates of his metal arm shifting and grinding as he braced himself against the steel. His long, wavy hair falling forward, damp with sweat from the strain.
Beside him, John ripped off his beret in frustration, tossing it aside. His blonde hair stuck in messy strands, his shoulders locking as he set his weight and shoved again, teeth clenching in focus. His chest heaved, the muscles of his broad back tightening under the suit.
You swallowed hard. Something switched inside you.
You should've been helping. You should've been searching the walls, finding an override panel, anything. Instead, you stood rooted in place drooling, watching two supersoldiers straining and sweating under red emergency lights like some fever dream fantasy.
And then Bucky's voice cut through the alarm, sharp, commanding, something deep in you pulsed in response wishing it was you being ordered around.
"Walker. On three. Push."
No hesitation. John just shifted his stance, nodded, and followed the order without a word. They pushed, the sound of metal straining filling the vault. No progress.
"Again," John gritted this time, breathless.
The door didn't budge. But your knees nearly did.
God. The sight of them side by side, Bucky's darkness and John's gold under the emergency glow, two soldiers down to their raw strength and grit. Together they were a sight for sore eyes.
And all you could think about was how well they would work together on each side of you too–
Why do I want them to order me around like that? Why is Walker's voice doing this to me? We're literally trapped to death and all I can think about is the shift in Bucky's metal arm around my–
You dug your nails into your palm, forcing yourself to breathe through it. Focus. Panic. Not arousal.
This is panic! you're panicking.
Still, your eyes refused to look away. Watching the strain in their throats, the sweat glistening under the strobing lights, the way Bucky snapped out an order and John just followed, like an instinct.
Your thighs pressed together on their own accord, heat crawling lower, faster. You took in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself.
Stop it. Stop. You should be helping. Find a panel, a switch, anything. Don't just stand here drooling.
You stumbled away from the door, looking around for another exit, trying to zone out again their groans are like it was something you weren't supposed to hear.
"Hey–" Bucky's voice snapped from behind you, concerned. "Don't drift too far. Stay in our sight."
"Right, in sight!" You shot him a quick nod and a smile that was far too tight. Still, you let your legs carry you further, their voices now lower as you darted your flashlight against the strobing red lights.
"We're not making progress here," John grimaced.
"We keep pushing, Walker."
"You think brute force is gonna get this thing open?" John shot back, teeth gritted as he shoved again. "Feels like it's bolted from the outside."
"It's steel," Bucky growled. "Steel bends."
"Love the optimism, Barnes." John huffed a bitter laugh.
"Less talking, more pushing."
Your flashlight drifted upward. Something John said echoed in your mind, "vents are still running". Right, the vents! That's where the dust must've come from.
Your eyes scanned the high ceiling, following the flicker of the red lights until you found it, the grate of an air vent right above you.
"Boys!" you blurted, pointing up. "The vents! There, look!"
John was the first to move towards you, immediately taking a leap to drag the vent's cover down with one sharp pull. A cloud of glitter leftovers rained down, Bucky arrived just in time to push you back before it hit you again.
"This shit is everywhere," John grimaced, dusting the speckles on his shoulders. "I don't think you should go through there," he turned to you, almost as if he was concerned about the way it was affecting you. "We could keep trying the door."
"It's our only way out," you shook your head, breathless. "I'm fine, really. Just need to get to jet."
"Okay," he nodded. "Good job finding the vent."
Your chest stuttered. Heat flushed your cheeks for a whole new reason this time.
He said good. He said I did a good job. I could be doing a better type of job on you—stop it.
You swallowed hard, biting back the ridiculous little smile tugging at your lips. The world was ending, your body was betraying you, and still, here you were fantasizing.
"I'll check it first," John announced, like it was up to no debate. "Then I'll pull you."
He took a bigger leap, catching the edge of the vent, shoulders flexing as he hauled himself higher. A feral groan spilling out as his chest strained against the metal.
You froze, pulse spiking for entirely the wrong reason. The sound rolled right down your spine.
"Got it," John hissed, swinging one arm over, then the other. His hair fell back, grunting again as he pulled himself through, boots scraping against the vent frame until he shoved the rest of his body inside.
Why did that look so good?
Before you could get lost in your thoughts again, John's face reappeared through the vent. He reached a hand down to you. "You're next. Come on."
Bucky crouched down suddenly, the emergency lights flashing red across his dark hair as he braced beneath the vent.
"Step on my shoulder," he said firmly, looking up at you.
"W-what?" you blurted.
"Don't worry, I can take it," he flashed you a smile, his metal hand tapping his own shoulder.
Your throat went dry. I wonder what else he can take–
Your stomach flipped, but you stepped forward, bracing your boot against the solid line of Bucky's shoulder. His hands came up automatically, sliding around your calves, then higher, his big palms holding your thighs as he slowly stood with you on top of him. Literally.
He adjusted his stance, lifting you higher. "Reach for his hand."
Yes, sir.
You stretched, fingertips almost brushing the vent's edge, your body swaying until John leaned down through the opening, his strong hand catching yours.
"That's it, good," Bucky praised from below, almost making you falter your grip on John's, but he tightened his hand around yours.
"Got you," he grunted, finally hauling you up.
For a heartbeat, you were suspended between them, Bucky's hands gripping your thighs from below, John's hold pulling you forward, your chest pressed flush against the frame. Sandwiched.
Oh my god. Oh my god.
You finally went through the vent, collapsing against John's chest with a shaky exhale, your heart racing far too fast, your thighs inevitably pressed to his. And something was definitely there. Right in his crotch.
You looked up at him with wide eyes, realizing holy shit this is happening to him too.
He was grateful for the darkness hiding the blush on his cheeks, as he cleared his throat and pushed himself away from you.
"I'll uh– check the corner," he said, leaning over the opening. "Can you get up here on your own, Barnes?"
"Of course I can, Walker," Bucky rolled his eyes, clutching the small crate of vials under his elbows, getting ready to jump.
You covered a laugh with your hand, watching as John crawled forward, the sound of metal creaking under his weight. A low grunt slipped out as he maneuvered past a tight bend, his broad shoulders scraping the walls. You bit your lip hard, forcing yourself to focus on anything else.
Behind you, Bucky pulled himself up into the vent with a leap. The frame groaned under his weight, metal arm catching the red light in flashes. Another grunt. Another low exhale as he finally got inside, placing the small crate in front of him to push it.
"Vent to the hallway's clear. Safe to go," John's voice echoed.
"Copy," Bucky mumbled.
You started crawling, your skin scraping against cold metal helped ease the heat pooling in your body.
Focus. You're an Avenger. You've crawled through worse. You can keep it together.
Except you couldn't.
Because every move behind you was highlighted with Bucky's deep breaths, dragging through the narrow space. Each exhale traveling across your legs, hot even through your suit, hitting places it shouldn't.
You clenched your jaw. Tried to ignore it. Tried not to picture what it would sound like with his mouth anywhere near your skin.
And then another rough breath came as he passed right through that tight bend, and your composure snapped.
"Bucky... please stop breathing like that," you hissed over your shoulder, voice weaker than you intended.
Bucky froze.
And for a moment there was just silence, except for your own ragged breathing.
His brows furrowed, confused, almost guilty. But he swallowed hard, realization flickered in his eyes. He knew what you were fighting. You couldn't help it.
"...Sorry," he apologized, and then no more sounds from him.
The truth is, he knew exactly what the dust was doing to you. Hell, what it was doing to him. He tried not to look, but the way you swayed your hips from side to side as you crawled in front of him made his mind wander with things he shouldn't be thinking. Maybe in the secrecy of his room, yes. Not in the middle of a situation like this.
Thankfully, the vent opened into the corridor you saw initially. The lights were strobing white instead of red, and it was silent except for the echo of the alarms still pulsing faintly in the distance. John had already dropped down, boots hitting the concrete with a solid thud. He cleared both sides, then glanced back up at you.
"Jump," he called, holding his arms out. "I got you."
"J-Jump? Absolutely not."
"Come on," his voice was commanding. "How else are you coming down? We gotta get you back to the jet."
He was right, the drop was too high to risk without help. His blue eyes stayed locked on yours, too calm to be Walker but no one was acting out their right minds here anyway.
"Fine."
You pushed forward, braced your palms on the vent frame, and dropped. You landed right into 6'2 of solid muscle. Strong arms wrapping under your thighs and back like a damsel in distress. He set you down gently, his hands lingering a half second too long before he stepped back.
A heavy thud sounded above, Bucky dropping down on his own, crouched low with the small crate in his hands.
"Let's get out of here."
Both instinctively shifted, stepping forward cautiously. And you, sweating, trembling, still buzzing from John's arms and Bucky's grip, found yourself guided back, tucked neatly behind the sight of two super soldiers moving like predators ahead of you. Just a little more. The way out was close. The jet was close.
But so were they.
You finally made it to the exit, the three of you burst out into the open, snow crunching under your boots, the freezing air hitting your face. It was blinding after the strobing darkness of the vault, harsh daylight bouncing off the endless stretch of white forest. For a moment, it almost felt good, almost burned the heat out of you. Almost.
And then finally, the jet. The ramp lowered with a hiss, and you stumbled up first. You leaned against the side wall, catching your breath
"Finally!" Yelena was halfway down, about to come charging out. Her blonde hair swung as she stopped short, eyes wide. "You guys freaked me out! Comm's weren't coming through, what the hell happened?"
"We got the vials," you panted. "But got trapped."
Yelena's gaze narrowed at your flushed cheeks, and the sheen of sweat at your temple despite the cold air outside.
"You okay?" she asked carefully.
"Yeah," you said quickly, forcing a smile. "We just had to run."
John walked in after you, without even glancing at Yelena. He didn't stop, didn't debrief, just went straight to the cockpit, flipping switches to get out of there as soon as possible.
Bucky followed behind, silent, setting the small box down against a wall. His face was unreadable, eyes fixed anywhere but on you.
Yelena's brows furrowed as she looked between the three of you. Your flushed face, John's silence, Bucky's poker face. Something was not right, but since none of you seemed eager to explain, she decided to keep watching in silence until she figured it out.
John sat in the cockpit, back straight, shoulders stiff as he adjusted controls. He rolled his neck once, then again. He frowned at the discomfort. He was used to adrenaline spikes, used to tension. But the strange hum he'd been feeling since he was in the vault, that uncomfortable warmth spreading across his skin and ... his crotch, felt off.
He brushed it away, like he'd been doing all this time. Just focus, Walker. Fly the damn jet.
Bucky sat on the bench near the cockpit, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his jaw was locked, eyes fixed on some random spot in the cabin. Sweat pooled under his collar, spreading all around his body, but he told himself it was just the shift from snow to being in a cabin.
You sat tucked in the far corner, trying to escape Yelena's intense glare. She tilted her head, suspicious, eyes narrowing.
"I'm fine, Yelena. Stop looking at me like that," you whispered, waving her off.
"Looking at you like what?" she innocently shrugged. "Like you can't remember how to breathe?"
"I'm just catching my breath," you rolled your eyes. Unfortunately, shallow pants slipped out of you, involuntary, no matter how hard you tried to mask them. You couldn't.
Bucky's head snapped up.
His enhanced hearing caught every stuttered inhale, every soft exhale from your corner.
And then John stirred too.
He froze mid motion, hands hovering over the controls, before his head jerked in your direction sharply. He tilted his head, eyes widening just slightly.
He smelled you. The arousal. The wetness between your thighs. It was so much.
"What the fuck–" he mumbled under his breath, looking away from you when Yelena caught him staring.
His gaze flicked closer in the cabin, right into Bucky's. For one second, they locked eyes. A silent understanding. Then John snapped his gaze away, back to the windshield, flushed like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have.
—
An hour.
An hour of tense silence inside the cabin. Yelena had gotten bored at this point, like just watching you all act weird wasn't enough. So she decided to poke a little bit, waiting for someone to break.
"You know, Walker over there looks like someone shoved a stick up his ass" she sneered. "Look at that try hard pilot face."
You let out a soft laugh, easing up for just a bit a her comment. If she only knew you were imagining that 'try hard pilot face' somewhere else.
John stiffened in his seat. He should've gotten angry at the comment, but god, that laugh.
On the bench, Bucky should've snorted at the comment, maybe added another one too. But your laugh was too bright in the dark, too alive, too fucking pretty.
And then you got up.
Just a normal thing, standing, stretching your legs, padding toward the small water supply near the cockpit to make up for all the liquid you were sweating.
Bucky's eyes tracked the sway of your hips before he caught himself. His jaw locked, making his gaze snap away. Don't look. Don't.
You bent down to grab a bottle from the lower compartment, and Bucky's knuckles whitened against his thigh. His mind betrayed him instantly ... his big hands on your waist, palms sliding lower, pulling you back against him–No. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Stop it.
John felt it differently, his senses sharpened until it was unbearable. He could smell you stronger now. Not the sweat, the arousal. The change in your heartbeat the closer you came. He forced himself not to turn, not to look, because he knew if he did, he wouldn't stop.
Then you cracked the bottle open, lifted it to your lips, gulping greedily, desperately. Your throat worked, your chest rising and falling as you drank. You gulped it down quickly, already reaching for another one.
And then you gasped into the second bottle, a soft sound of relief as the cool water slid down.
John's hand tightened on the controls. He imagined that bottle wasn't water. Imagined your throat working around something else, the same gasp breaking free when he'd press his palm against your neck. His bulge strained harder, pressing against his zipper, and he cursed silently.
He told himself it was just the adrenaline, like you said before, just his metabolism catching up. But then you took another sip of water, throat bobbing, his brain went there again.
What else could he make you swallow like that?
What other sounds would you make if he bent you right over the console in front of him. His hand at the back of your neck, pressing you down, your breath fogging against the glass as he filled you hard and deep. The thought hit so sharp he nearly groaned aloud.
Bucky wasn't doing better, either.
He swallowed hard, his hearing was sharper than John's. That tiny, choked sound of yours ran through his whole body, because fuck, he could pull ten more out of you without trying.
His metal arm whirred quietly, plates shifting as if it too was fighting the urge to pin you down. His mind replayed the details cruelly, your lips wet and swollen from the bottle, the flash of your throat tilting back.
He imagined ripping you out of that suit, spreading you across the bench he sat on, thighs open wide, your pulse hammering against his lips as he kissed down your neck. His hands, skin and vibranium, holding your hips open, his mouth drinking in every gasp, every broken moan.
They tried to zone out. To push the thoughts away.
But the smell lingered. The faint, sweet heat of your arousal in the cabin air. Impossible to ignore. Impossible not to want.
Inside, they were both drowning in the same thought.
If she asks... we're not saying no.
You made your way back to your seat, oblivious to them fighting for the last thread of their restraint. Yelena arched a brow at you.
God, if she only knew how bad it actually was.
"Are you sure everything is fine, Walker?" She asked, narrowing her eyes.
She had to know if John was going to crash the jet the next time you did something.
"I said I'm fine, Belova," he didn't turn around from the cockpit, his voice coming through gritted teeth.
"Looking strong, John." Bucky drawled, leaning back on the bench, his tone mocking. Maybe if he poked John enough, it would distract him from the filthy thoughts invading his own mind.
Unfortunately, rage bait always worked on John F(ucking) Walker. He turned around in disbelief, like he couldn't believe Bucky, who was going through the same thing, outed him like that.
"What do you want me to say, Bucky? That I can't stop thinking about bending her over the console until she forgets her own fucking name?" he snapped. "And you better stop pretending you're not thinking the same shit too."
Bucky just bit the inside of his cheek. You stopped breathing. Yelena's eyes went wide.
"Woah, woah, what the fuck is wrong with you guys?" she scowled, standing up from her bench. She crossed her arms tight over her chest, scanning the three of you.
She spun to the small metal box you'd taken from the facility. "Okay. Let me check the vials you got."
"Yelena–don't," Bucky was on his feet instantly, but she was already flipping the box's lid open.
The cabin light's made the golden shimmer glisten in the vials. Yelena froze, eyes widening in fear.
"Oh no. No no no no no," she closed the lid and stepped back fast, as her gaze snapped between you, John, and Bucky.
And that's when she caught the faint flecks of gold dust clinging to your suit. To theirs. Barely shining on the fabric, in your hair, faint but unmistakable.
"Oh my god," she whispered, stepping back. Then turned to Bucky. "Is that–?"
"Yeah. It's that." Bucky sighed, resigned.
Yelena's face went pale. Whatever smugness she'd carried before vanished instantly, replaced by raw panic.
"Oh hell no," she muttered, backing further away, hands up like you were radioactive. "I'm not going through that shit again."
"Again? Yelena, what the fuck is it?"
You pushed up from your seat, stepping toward her, panicked, and desperate for answers, but she snapped her hands up between you.
"Don't. Don't you dare come closer," she said. "Stay back."
She was already grabbing the emergency gear, yanking a parachute bag, scrambling for the hatch as Bucky paced around.
"Yelena wait–"
"Oh no, my friend," she said, laughing dryly. Strapping it across her back and chest. "I am not staying for this."
The hatch alarm blasted as Yelena slapped the release. The jet door cracked open with a violent hiss, freezing air howling into the cabin. The sudden force knocked you off balance, you stumbled, arms flailing for support.
Someone caught you. Hard.
Bucky.
One palm sat firmly on your waist, while his metal arm steadied your back. The world tilted, and suddenly you were pressed against him. Now you hadn't only felt John's bulge, but Bucky's too.
God, he's so warm. His hands just fit on my body. If he just slid them lower...
"Wait–Yelena!" you shouted, gripping his forearm but leaning toward the hatch. "Take me with you!"
Yelena stopped mid strap. She stared amused at you, then at Bucky's hold on you, then back again.
"Get a hold of this girl, Barnes!" she shouted, her voice cracking over the air. She tugged her parachute tight, shaking her head. "You'd die if you come with me. Trust me. But you're in–" She gestured between the two supersoldiers, smirking. "... very good hands!"
"See you tomorrow!" she shouted over the noise.
"Tomorrow!?" you asked in disbelief. She was really jumping god knows where.
"Come pick me up when you're done!" She braced for the jump, "on a different jet!" and with that, she was gone.
The hatch kept open for a few seconds before Bucky slammed it shut with a metallic clang, the locks sealing. The wind cut off instantly, you staggered away from Bucky's grasp.
"Oh my god," you whispered, as you turned slowly. “How long until we get home?” You dared to ask.
John checked over the radar. “We’re about to fly over France right now. We still got a few hours left.”
A few hours. With two men.
Two very large, very infected men.
You were so fucked.
Hopefully.
You didn't have time to get lost in your fantasies at this point. It was like the heat finally caught up to you. The air grew heavier, too warm. Your breath came in shallow bursts as you stumbled backward, fingers fumbling with the collar of your suit like it was strangling you.
God ... it's hot. Why is it so hot?
Your throat burned like you hadn't chugged two bottles of water earlier. Your pulse thudded in your ears.
And theirs. But they didn't move yet.
John sat rigid in his seat, knuckles white where he gripped the controls. Bucky had gone back to his bench, leaning forward slightly, eyes locked anywhere but you, like he was tracking you by scent alone.
Which John certainly was.
You began to get rid of the extra layers that were choking you. Unzipped the top of your suit, letting it hang on your hips, revealing a tight tank top under it. You ripped your gloves off, dropped any weapons on the floor.
You braced yourself against the wall of the jet, panting. Every nerve in your body sparked like it was trying to burn itself from the inside out. Your core ached, throbbed, so violently you thought you might cry.
This was it. This was the moment you died because of some horny glittery dust.
A small, shaky whimper slipped free as if your body was begging for their hands, their mouths, anything.
John's hands snapped off the controls at the sound. The autopilot clicked on with a sharp beep as he stood, pacing around the cockpit.
"Jesus Christ," he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face.
"Walker," Bucky warned.
"Tell me I'm not the only one losing my goddamn mind here, Bucky."
"You're not," Bucky let out a dry laugh, his gaze cutting back to you, and the sound of your fast pulse in his ears. "But you're scaring her."
The problem was, you weren't scared. Not of them.
If anything, you wished John would just walk over and pin you down on the floor already. Get that iron grip against your neck as he fucked you until you forgot your own name, like he said.
"Sorry," John gritted, still pacing around.
You almost laughed. Don't apologize. Don't back off.
"Guys–" your vision blurred, and before you could hold yourself up, you dropped to your knees, then the floor.
Your body gave out.
The last thing you saw was both of them lurching forward at once. Bucky dropped beside you, catching your limp body, while John cradled the back of your head before it hit the floor. Bucky's metal hand tapped your jaw gently, turning your face toward him.
"Hey, hey! stay with us." Bucky urged, voice laced with panic.
Your breathing slowed, too much. Too shallow.
"Bucky, you know this stuff..." John said, eyes darting between him and your body.
Bucky sighed, nodding. "HYDRA ran tests like this, you need release–not just sex, more like ... connection. I can–I can try something."
Bucky leaned down over your face, and without giving it a second thought he pressed his mouth to yours. It was soft, like he was giving something instead of taking.
He felt like a goddamn Disney prince giving the princess a true love's kiss to wake her up.
You jolted awake with a sharp gasp into Bucky's lips, blinking to see two faces right there. John hovering holding your head, brows furrowed in concern, and Bucky crouched over you, just inches away from your lips.
"Bucky..." you whispered voice shaking as your fists knotted into the collar of his suit. It was not rejection, it was plea, trust, desperation.
"You're safe. We got you." Bucky didn’t pry your hands off his collar, if anything, he let you cling tighter. "What do you need, doll?" he asked softly. His metal hand hovered an inch from your cheek, like he wanted to touch but wouldn't unless you told him to.
"You can tell us, sweetheart." John added. "Whatever you want, we'll make it happen."
Just the thought of 'whatever you want' made your pulse go even faster.
"Your heartbeat's not right," Bucky pointed out, chuckling. His hand finally came up, brushing the damp hair off your temple. “We can hear what your body wants doll … but we need to hear it from your pretty mouth.”
Bucky’s face softened when you dropped the grip on his collar, your head being cradled by John’s large hand again. His voice was steady, reassuring.
“We’ll stop right here if you want. You say the word, and we’ll cool off, sit on opposite ends of this jet until we land,” John said. “If you’d rather, I’ll open the damn hatch and jump too.” He chuckled dryly, but he was being honest.
The weight of their restraint nearly undid you more. Two super soldiers, barely holding themselves back, offering you an out when every vein in their bodies screamed to just take you.
“Use your words, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “We don’t start unless you ask.”
Your lips parted, a broken sound slipping free.
"I want you–I need you," you whispered. "Both … please John, Bucky … I can’t–“
“Shh– you don’t have to feel bad for asking,” Bucky pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "No more holding back. Not from us. Not from yourself."
You nodded, biting your lip with anticipation. “Touch me–please,” you begged, when he began pulling the rest of the tight suit down your legs.
“Where, doll?” Bucky asked. “Say it.”
Heat burned your face, but you leaned closer, shameless now.
“Here,” you whispered, dragging his hand down until it pressed against your thigh, fingers almost brushing your drenched panties. “And John–“ your gaze snapped to him, his pupils blown wide. “Pin me down, choke me, something. I don’t care …just don’t stop.”
“You heard her,” Bucky said to John who looked at you in awe, his metal plates whirring as his grip tightened around your thigh. His voice dropped, dark and final. “She asked.”
John nodded, like he’d just been appointed a new mission. He lowered himself fully to the floor, your head pillowed by his thigh. He wrapped his large hand around your neck, your head falling back with a strangled moan, your body arching between them like a live wire, every inch of you begging to be touched, kissed, claimed.
“Easy,” Bucky soothed, holding your hips down as he kissed his way up your thighs. “We got you. Just breathe, doll.”
Your head was still spinning, but their warmth, John’s palm braced on your neck, Bucky’s fingers digging against your thighs, gave you something to cling to.
John was hovering behind you, his broad shoulders filling your vision, his jaw tight. You could see it, he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. Not unless you gave it to him.
So you did.
You fisted the front of his suit and tugged, pulling him down before he could think twice. His mouth crashed against yours in a heat that wasn’t just the pollen, wasn’t just need, it was all about him and what he wanted to do way before today. The kiss was raw, reckless, his beard scratching your skin like he’d been starving for it.
A groan tore out of him the second your lips pulled away for air. His hand slid from your neck to your mouth, running his thumb over your lower lip.
You suddenly felt the weight of Bucky’s hand on your hip tighten ever so slightly. He’d been down there, holding you steady while you kissed John in front of him, yet his pupils were blown wide.
You leaned forward, still half dazed, and met his eyes. He didn’t move, but just like John, you tugged him up to brush your lips against his before pressing harder, hungrier. Bucky’s groan was rougher, deeper, his hand sliding from your hip to cradle the back of your head like he needed leverage. His mouth opened against yours, metal fingers flexing at your waist with a clink of plates, reminding you exactly how strong he was, and how carefully he was holding you now.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, lips swollen from Bucky, John instantly tilted your chin back, claiming the other side of your mouth before you could even catch your breath. Like he couldn’t stand to let Bucky have you without marking his claim too.
Bucky’s hand tightened at your hip at the same time John’s arm caged your waist from behind, their touches overlapping, crowding, making you dizzy.
“You like this, don’t you?” John groaned against your mouth, lips brushing yours with every word. “Being trapped between us.”
You moaned into his lips, gasping when Bucky’s lips went straight to your collarbone. His hands were the first to slip under your shirt, John’s lips leaving you only for a moment so he could peel it over your head.
You gasped when the cooler air of the jet kissed your overheated skin, though it was nothing compared to the way John’s rough hand spread across your stomach, pulling you tighter to his chest. Their touches overlapped, fumbled, one stripping what the other left behind. John hooked his fingers in your bra’s clasp, finally freeing your breasts to them.
Bucky’s eyes burned as they raked over your bare skin, while John took no time to run his hands all over them from behind you.
Pinned between their bodies, almost entirely undressed and shaking, you thought you might actually combust before either of them even got to your panties, the only piece left.
“Fucking knew it,” John mumbled against your ear, teeth grazing your skin. “Knew you’d taste this good… look this good…”
“You’re ours now,” Bucky rasped against your skin. John growled in agreement, his hand spreading wide at your hip before sliding lower, pulling you back against him.
“Please– I need … I need more,” you panted.
"Shhh. I know, doll," Bucky cooed, his hands already working to lay you back down on the floor between them, your head falling once again on John’s lap. "We're gonna make it better."
"You’re gonna let us take care of you, sweetheart?" John teased.
You nodded frantically, already panting again, your whole body arching toward them. They both reached to unzip their vests, but you stopped them with one hand on each.
“No! The suits stay on,” you begged, batting your eyelashes at them. “Please…”
They exchanged a smirk, their cocks straining harder against their pants from your request.
“Anything for you, doll.” Bucky said, steady metal grip at your hips as he sank to his knees between your thighs. “Shit– you’re dripping already,” he chuckled, his fingers playing over the wet patch on your panties making you shiver.
John’s mouth found yours before you could even say anything, swallowing your gasp in a rougher kiss. His hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head back on his lap so he could take more, deeper, as Bucky slid your panties off with ease.
The scrape of his stubble against your thighs was the only warning before his hot mouth pressed to you. Your cry was muffled against John’s tongue, the sound caught in his throat as he groaned in return.
“God, sweetheart,” he said against your lips, “you sound perfect.”
Bucky’s growls vibrated against your wet folds, the kind of sound that made your thighs tremble around his shoulders. His flesh hand locked you in place, forcing you to take every slow, precise stroke of his tongue.
“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Bucky rasped between licks, turning you into a moaning mess.
John pulled back just far enough to watch your face, his thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip. “Look at you… taking that so good. Bet you’d let me fuck that pretty mouth, huh?”
Your whimper was answer enough. He carefully placed your head sideways further down his left thigh, your cheek resting on the rough fabric of his pants. He reached inside his pants to finally pull out his thick, throbbing cock. It sprung up, big, hot and swollen. Being offered right in front of your face like a fucking popsicle. A breath got caught in your throat when you sized him up, biting your lip in anticipation.
John smirked down at your surprise, and didn’t wait long. He fisted his cock, heavy on his hand, before slapping it a few times around your parted lips, open with the moans coming out from Bucky working down on you. Your head dropped back, but John’s hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up.
"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he commanded. "Now, be a good girl and open up for me."
And you did, willingly, desperately. His thick cock brushed your lips again and you moaned, sucking him in as far as you could take him. His rhythm was slow at first, like testing your limits, but it didn't take long before the hunger overtook him.
"Just like that," John grunted, his hand tangled in your hair as you hollowed your cheeks around his speed. "So fucking pretty with your mouth full.”
John’s grip tightened at the back of your head with one hand, the other moving again to wrap around your neck. His groans rumbled low and raw as he fed himself faster into your mouth. His taste, his heat, his weight, every inch of him was overwhelming.
You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only feel. John’s thick cock in your mouth, Bucky’s relentless lips down on you. The growls and curses vibrating around you, the way your body lit up under their touch.
And God, you wanted more.
"Goddamn," Bucky hissed, sliding his fingers inside you now. "Doll, you’re shaking."
You couldn’t even give him an answer with John deep inside your throat, making your eyes water.
John groaned above you as you sucked harder, tongue swirling, your moans vibrating against him. "Good girl. Such a good fucking girl … fuck–“
Your eyes flicked up, catching the sight of him becoming undone, his chest heaving under that beautiful suit, his mouth hanging open as if he couldn’t breathe without cursing your name.
When he finally came, it was with a growl torn straight from his chest, his grip tightening in your hair as his hips jerked back. The warm liquid filled your mouth, John’s head falling forward to watch you take every single drop. He drove his cock deeper inside you, making sure you choked a little on the cum spilling out of him.
He finally pulled out, finally letting you gasp for air. He smiled down at the sight of you, lips parted, throat working as you swallowed him. His hand softened immediately after, thumb brushing a leftover drop on your lower lip with surprising gentleness.
Bucky curled his fingers just right after that, claiming the moans coming out of your lips as his now. Reminding you of him. His mouth made your body shake with pleasure, but his eyes, dark, stormy blue were locked on your mouth. On your lips swollen from John. On the way you licked the corner of your mouth without thinking.
John chuckled, still stroking your hair like he’d just claimed you. “What’s the matter, Barnes?” he rasped, voice smug. “Jealous?”
Bucky didn’t even have to answer him, all he had to do was suck on your clit, harder, enough to make you roll your head back on John’s thigh, muffling your moans with your hand over your mouth.
John chuckled darkly, watching with lazy satisfaction. “Guess he missed your voice, sweetheart,” he said. “Better give it to him nice and loud, then.” He reached your hand covering your mouth, and brought it down to hear you come undone.
Bucky’s mouth was relentless, sucking, licking, his beard scratching all over. His fingers curling just right. Every sound he pulled from your throat seemed to drive him harder, like he was determined to erase John from your tongue entirely.
You clawed at his shoulder, a broken cry spilling out of you louder than you meant, louder than you could stop.
“That’s it,” he groaned against you. “That’s the sound I wanted. Don’t hold back from me, doll.”
His metal arm pressed harder into your hip, anchoring you while his right hand slid up your stomach, holding you down.
“Fuck, Buck–“
You broke.
The first orgasm ripped through you like fire, your thighs trembling violently around his head, your voice echoing in the cabin as you cried out for him. He didn’t stop, he chased every pulse, every shake, his mouth coaxing you through wave after wave until you were left shuddering and boneless in his grip.
Only then did he ease up, his mouth slick, beard wet, his breaths ragged as he finally looked up at you.
“Yeah,” he rasped, a feral grin curling his lips. “That’s mine.”
Behind you, John let out a wrecked laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ… guess Bucky really wanted to hear you scream, sweetheart.”
You panted there trembling, your body still twitching from the aftershocks, and knew without a doubt, you weren’t even close to being finished yet.
Before you could even catch your breath, Bucky was rising up to his knees, wiping his chin with his leather sleeve. He was the one who grabbed your body from the floor, carrying you over to the bench he’d been sitting before. He placed your knees there, John already walking behind you to pop your ass up for him, as Bucky lined himself up with your mouth.
"You're doing so good doll.” Bucky praised. “You want more?"
You nodded, lips parted, panting.
He stood next to the bench, tugging at his belt with one hand, never breaking eye contact. You licked your lips, and that was it, he groaned, pulling his cock out like he couldn’t take another second. You drooled for him as much as you did for John. Bucky’s heavy length rested on his hand as he drove it to your mouth.
When you wrapped your lips around him, his entire body shuddered, like he was finally getting some release. A sound ripped out of him, his metal hand finding the back of your head, holding you steady but careful, always careful.
“Jesus fuck,” he growled, his thighs tightening as your mouth slid deeper. “Such a perfect little mouth.”
Behind you, John lined himself up to your entrance, with a smirk curving his mouth as he watched.
“Told you she’s good, Bucky. Ruins you, doesn’t she?”
Bucky’s answering growl vibrated through his chest. His hand clenched tight in your hair as his hips stuttered forward, losing control just like John did.
You choked a gasp on his cock as John pushed himself with a harsh snap of his hips, The stretch was everything you wanted, everything you needed.
Your hands dug into the bench, muscles trembling, back arched as John slammed into you from behind.
“Fuck,” John groaned behind you, sliding deeper, hands gripping your hips so tight it felt like he’d leave bruises. “You feel… you feel like heaven.”
Your body rocked forward with every thrust, Bucky’s hand anchoring you as he pushed faster each time. Your lips slid wet and hot around him, your tongue tracing every inch, and the thickness of him filled you until your jaw ached.
“Fuck, that’s it,” Bucky hissed, his hips moving deeper until he made you gag around his length. “Good little doll… so perfect between us.”
John’s thrusts picked up, rougher now, and he leaned forward, mouth at your ear, voice thick. “You want both of us to come inside you, huh? Fill you up till you can’t walk?”
You whimpered around Bucky’s cock, your body shaking with overstimulation.
“Gonna fill you real good, doll. Over and over. We know you need it.” Bucky groaned, eyes glazed, stroking your cheek with his thumb.
John shifted slightly, one hand reaching between your thighs to rub perfect circles over your clit. Your head fell forward, your body already tightening, the promise of what was coming sending you right to the edge.
“Come for us first. Show us how bad you want it.”
You cried out, muffled by Bucky’s dick on your mouth, shattered, clenching around both of them as your orgasm hit you mercilessly. But they didn’t stop. If anything, they accelerated their paces.
“Gonna come down your throat, doll. Ready to swallow?” his metal fingers flexed at your jaw, steadying you.
Your muffled moan around him was enough. His breath hitched, his rhythm broke, and he spilled his cum deep in your throat in a few ragged thrusts. You swallowed him down, all of it, and when he finally pulled back, his thumb brushed your jaw with tenderness, you just smiled up at him, cum drunk at this point.
John anchored you back to reality when his thrusts stuttered, hips jerking against you, and then he groaned, as he spilled inside you too. His grip bruised your hips, holding you tight against him as he ground deep, chasing every last pulse. Making sure you could feel him inside for days.
“Shit–“ you blurted, breathless, your body flopping down on the bench.
But that itch, that goddamn itch from the gold dust still tingled across your body. You were still trembling, thighs weak from John, when Bucky reached down and hooked an arm around your waist.
“C’mere, doll,” he rasped, hauling you up as he sat on the bench. Your back hit his vest as he pulled you into his lap, his thighs spread wide beneath you.
You gasped as the head of his cock pressed against your slick heat, the aftershocks still sparking through your body.
“Ride me,” he ordered, metal hand braced at your hip, the other sliding up your chest to hold you tight to him. His breath burned against your ear as he whispered, “show Walker how good you look bouncing on my cock.”
You sank down slowly, your walls clenching hard around him. His grip tightened on your waist, guiding your hips until you were moving, grinding, lifting, sinking again.
“Fuck–“ his head tipping back, “that’s it, good doll.”
John crouched low in front of you, blue eyes burning as he watched you slide down onto Bucky. Your arms reached instantly to John’s biceps to hold yourself, his hand clamping around your thigh to keep you steady, and somewhere in the middle of it Bucky huffed out a laugh, lips brushing your back.
“You two ever think–“ he groaned the thought with a sharp thrust that made you gasp, “–this jet’s a little cramped?”
John snapped his head from your body to him, “Now you wanna bring that up?”
“I’m just saying …” he panted, still moving, “…she deserves better than this bench.”
You wanted to smile, but all you could do was a grimace from how good Bucky was hitting that spot, all while talking to John.
“Better where?” John asked, his hands going up to hold your arms when you dug your nails on his.
Bucky’s gaze flicked to the cockpit radar. “Are we still in France?”
John leaned just enough to check the flashing map “Yeah…right over Paris.”
His eyes darted back to you immediately, barely holding yourself up as Bucky snapped his hips up. All undone and pliant in their hands, and the thought of laying you out somewhere soft to fuck you properly was suddenly all he could picture.
“Perfect.” Bucky replied, a grin on his face “Doll… we’re taking you to Paris.”
John swore he’d never look at the pilot’s seat the same again, not after the way you’d ended up in his lap there, nails dug into his shoulders while the jet screamed warnings he ignored. Bucky’s growl in your ear had been the only reason you didn’t send the whole aircraft plummeting. Somehow … somehow John got the damn thing down while you moaned on his lap.
And then came the sneaking. Three supposed superheroes trying to look normal as you slipped through the Paris night, tactical suits hidden under heavy coats. All to end up on a semi decent hotel off the main boulevard, with a bored concierge who didn’t ask questions when John slapped down the shiny avenger’s card on the counter.
“Room for three,” he told the concierge, a boyish grin on his face. “One bed.”
Bonus
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