Swap Spit, Lock Lips
Pairing: Bob Reynolds x John Walker x Fem!Thunderbolts!Reader
Word Count: 8.3k
Summary: The lines in your relationships with John Walker and Bob Reynolds had already become blurred, but you'd managed to keep one aspect intact - you'd only ever slept with them separately. However, when John wakes up and can't keep his hands off of you, that might not be true anymore.
Tags/Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY, light somno (wakes reader up to have sex), dom!Walker, sub!reader, switch!Bob, honestly they're all switches, dry humping, exhibitionism, fingering, John calls Bob 'Bobby', edging (accidental and on purpose), light humiliation, dirty talk, consensual degradation, pussy slapping, praise kink, finger sucking, spit play, thigh fucking, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, masturbating (m), breast play, very light m/m action (more foreshadowing than anything else)
A/N: So…this one got away from me. I didn't expect to write over 8k of pure smut. Hopefully it's not as exhausting to read as it was to write. 😅 Inspired by the Ashnikko song "I Want My Boyfriends To Kiss." I have two more fic ideas for these three to write after this💚 (Also check out Ashnikko's album "Smoochies." Been listening to it nonstop since it came out.)
Smoochieverse Masterlist
You woke to the feeling of a hand on you. It was light at first, fingertips tracing the outline of your face. The touch so gentle, so feather soft that you twitched your nose, sleepily thinking a breeze was tickling your face. A low chuckle came from behind you, reverberating in the strong, warm chest pressed against your back. You were swimming in that world between sleep and wakefulness where everything blended together, where sensation and fantasy tripped over each other. So when you felt those fingers move lower, skimming over your lips, sliding down your neck, and running teasingly down the side of your breast, you thought maybe it was a dream. Your eyes started to flutter as the hand got bolder, flattening against your side, sliding down your clothed torso until it got to your bare legs. You were mostly awake by then as the hand got rougher, starting to knead the meat of your hips.
A sound caught in your throat - a gasp? a moan? - as the hand pulled you back, grinding your plush ass against the thick press of your boyfriend's morning erection.
"John," you breathed out, arching your back to press against him harder.
"Mornin', princess," he whispered in your ear, continuing to grind against you, careful not to shake the bed. Bob was still curled up in your arms, sound asleep, after all.
Oh fuck, Bob.
This wasn't exactly the first time John had woken you up like this. He was always such a morning person, annoyingly so sometimes (mainly when he'd rouse you from your slumber at some ungodly hour of the morning to go on a fucking run of all things). But the times like this when he'd coax your eyes open with his hands and his mouth and his hard cock pressed against you and inside of you more than made up for the disruption of your sleep schedule.
However, since you had started curling up at night with both of your boyfriends, John had kept his hands (and other body parts) to himself. This wasn't exactly a scenario any of you had discussed. Hell, you hadn't even talked about sharing a bed with them at the same time; it just…happened. You'd been cuddled up with Bob one night, and John knocked on your door, sheepishly asking if you had room for one more. And Bob, sweet Bob, seeing the same dark circles and haunted eyes he most likely recognized in himself, didn't hesitate to invite John in.
Originally, you split time with them right down the middle - you spent your days with John and your nights with Bob. But, after a few months of that holding pattern, the borders of your very separate relationships with your very separate boyfriends became murky. The days and nights bled into each other, the same way John and Bob seemed to start overlapping in your life. But this? This wasn't tiptoeing over the demarcation line that clearly defined your relationships. This was pole vaulting over it.
"We can't do this," you hissed back at John, moving your hand to try to stop his wandering one that had gripped your thigh. "Bob is right here."
"Then we'd better be quiet. Right, pretty girl?" You could hear the smirk in his voice. Smug bastard. But you couldn't deny just how good it felt. And even if you tried to, all it took was John's hand to move one inch down and…
"Fuck, baby. You're soaked." You bit your lip as John pressed two fingers against the wet fabric between your legs, trailing them up your slit. Before he got to your clit, his other hand came up from between the pillows, covering your mouth. It was just in time to muffle the little noise that escaped your throat as his fingers rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Shh," John whispered in your ear. "We don't wanna wake Bobby, do we?" The hand over your mouth dampened the sound of the whimper that escaped you at his words. You could have protested. You could have pulled away. All it would take is you shaking your head, and John would stop. You both knew it. But instead, you brought your free hand up, the one that wasn't tucked under Bob's pillow, and grasped John's wrist with a white-knuckled grip. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, and you could practically feel the devious grin on his face.
Pulling your underwear to the side, John slid his fingers through your folds, using your shoulder to muffle his groan at how wet you were for him. He bucked his hips once, hard, and you swore you could feel his cock throb against you even through the layers of cloth.
It was stifling under the blanket, each movement making John radiate with heat, and Bob always ran hot, adding to the inferno. Sweat was beading on your forehead, and you felt a trickle run down your night shirt and in-between your breasts.
There was no teasing suddenly, just want. John rubbed your clit with purpose, grinding even harder against you. It didn't take long before you could hear him lightly panting. You wanted to turn, to watch his face as he fell apart, but you were caught between his hands holding you down, his body pressed against you, and the other man sound asleep in front of you, peacefully unaware of anything but your arms around him. You whimpered at the thought, letting your eyes flutter shut. Bob could wake up at any moment and catch John rutting against you and you just laying back and taking it, letting him draw you closer to the edge with each movement of his dexterous fingers. And just for a second, you pictured what had always hovered at the back of your mind on those rare nights you spent all alone and pent up, hand between your legs, trying to soothe the ache there that you couldn't bring yourself to put words to. Both of your boyfriends. Both of them on you at the same time. Two pairs of eyes watching you. Two sets of hands touching you. Two mouths unraveling you. Two cocks taking you apart. The positions didn't matter - on your knees with Bob inside of you while you let John use your mouth, riding John while Bob watched with his hand on his cock, or even the one you never consciously let yourself acknowledge: you at the bottom of both of them, Bob buried in your pussy, sobbing in pleasure as John fucked him, controlling your combined pleasure with each thrust.
As the knot in your stomach coiled, tensing ever-tighter, you were grateful for John's hand over your mouth catching all the little sounds that escaped your lips as you panted against his palm. John seemed content to rut against you, but you were sorely tempted to plead for him inside of you. It was probably too late. You were fast approaching the precipice, and John was getting close, too. A wet spot had formed at the front of his boxers, dampening your underwear with his precum more and more with each slide.
"Fuck's sake, Walker. Couldn't keep your hands off her until I leave?"
Your eyes flew open. Oh, God. Bob. Your supposedly-asleep boyfriend was watching you closely, a strange expression on his face, one you couldn't quite place. A wave of shame washed over you, forcibly pulling you back from the edge of your orgasm.
You smacked John's arm, trying to tug his hand out of your underwear. He stopped rubbing your clit but kept his hand where it was, moving the one that was over your mouth instead to let you speak.
"Bob, I can explain…"
He didn't wait for your confession. In one swift movement, Bob pulled the comforter off of the three of you, fully exposing your illicit activities. The cooler air of the room that hit your sweat-slicked skin felt like you'd jumped into a river in the middle of winter. Goosebumps formed on your flesh. Reaching, you groped around for the comforter, a blanket, a sheet, anything to cover your shame.
"Not my fault you sleep in so damn late," John grumbled, a tinge of amusement in his voice.
"John!" you scolded with a gasp. Abandoning your your fumbling quest to cover yourself, you instead tugged at John's arm again, trying to get him off of you so you could sit up. He crossed his other arm over your chest instead, effectively holding you down. Pushing against him was like trying to bend a steel beam. You knew if you looked back that John wasn't even struggling to keep you pinned down. Even though it was the worst time, your body didn't seem to realize that, growing even wetter at the casual show of strength.
"Couldn't keep your dick to yourself for another hour?" Bob asked wryly. He didn't sound angry. And even though he was speaking to John, his eyes stayed fixed on you. They slid up your body, drinking you in, his gaze so intense it almost felt like a physical caress. When his eyes met yours at last, you finally noticed what you'd overlooked in your panic - Bob's pupils were blown wide, almost overtaking the dark blue irises. He had that look in his eyes, that mischievous one he'd get when he'd do something reckless like touch you under the table at dinner or pull you into the pantry and go down on his knees for you. Like he was using every last ounce of his self-control to not pounce on you.
The weight of his gaze was so heavy, it felt like you couldn't breathe properly. Bob seemed to notice his effect on you. His eyes drifted down, watching your breasts rise and fall rapidly under your shirt with unabashed hunger on his face.
"Can you blame me?" John asked, his voice almost a drawl. The hand still inside your underwear started a teasing rhythm, slow circles dancing around where you needed him most, almost touching but not quite. You squirmed under his touch. "Can't resist this pretty pussy."
Bob hummed his agreement, eyes traveling back down you and landing between your thighs, watching John's fingers move inside the black cotton of your panties. He reached forward and slid the offending article of clothing down your legs and threw them off the bed, making sure to skim his palms along your body as he did. More goosebumps rose in their wake.
John shifted, forcing you to lean back against him. The movement pressed your back flat against John's front, his still rock hard erection pressing tightly against your now-naked ass.
"Spread 'em,baby," John murmured in your ear, voice low and deliciously gravelly. You couldn't help yourself; you felt so exposed, so vulnerable in front of them, your arousal fully on display for both men. So you squeezed your thighs together, trying to pull your shirt down to cover your shame.
Bob tsked at you, clicking his tongue. "No, angel. Let us see you." When you loosened your muscles a little, Bob took advantage, pulling your shirt up, baring your stomach, and adjusted your leg to where it was draped over John's, fully exposing yourself to his eyes. Bob's greedy eyes drank you in. You could swear you saw a flash of gold in the deep blue there.
"Fuck," Bob swore, "You're drenched." He smoothed his hands up your thighs, spreading your labia further apart when he reached the apex of your legs. He looked up, eyes searching your face. "That all for us, baby?"
Your face felt so hot, you were sure John could feel it radiating off of you. You nodded your head, too aroused and embarrassed for words.
"Speak up, darlin'," John said with a little lilt in his voice. "Answer Bobby. Tell him you're a little slut that likes to be spread out in front of your boyfriends."
Bob glanced up at John with questioning eyes before looking back at you curiously, his gaze intent. Degradation was never something Bob indulged in with you. He occasionally liked being called a few names in bed. Just as long as you smothered him with praise afterward. But he'd never used anything but sweetness with you.
You didn't hold back your moan at John's words, squirming even more in his grasp. You wanted so much to press your thighs back together, to alleviate some of the pressure that started building again inside of you just from their greedy eyes raking over you. Your thighs quivered, but you managed to stay still.
"I like it," you whispered, biting your lip. That wasn't a good enough answer for John, and you knew it. And with his arms mostly occupied, you had a good idea what his retaliation would be.
The crack of John's hand slapping your pussy made Bob draw in a sharp breath in surprise. You let out an unabashed moan of pain mixed with pleasure, writhing beneath his hand and Bob's gaze. Your cunt throbbed, your visible arousal starting to smear down to your thighs.
"Say it," John commanded, his tone casual, almost lazy. Like you weren't even worth the effort to sound stern. It only turned you on that much more.
You whimpered but obeyed. "I'm a…I'm a slut who likes to spread my pussy in front of my boyfriends." You shut your eyes in aroused embarrassment, missing the way Bob drank in your expression with pure desire. The little choked noise he made, though? You didn't miss that.
"Yeah, you are," John said smugly. "That's my good girl." A shiver ran through you at his words, and you could feel the smile on his lips as John pressed open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. He was definitely enjoying this. Unlike Bob, whose all-encompassing need sometimes meant he couldn't keep his hands to himself in public, John had never been one for excessive PDA let alone exhibitionism. He'd happily hold your hand at the grocery store, give you a kiss on the head when he came back from a run, or wrap his arm around you while sitting next to you on the couch, but that was the extent of things. Even if you got him worked up, John never acted on it in public. He'd make excuses for you both to leave, or, occasionally, he'd stealthily pull you away, putting his hand over your mouth and dragging you out of sight, leaving the group to wonder where or even when you'd left. And here he was spreading you out like a buffet for Bob's hungry eyes, getting off on your arousal and humiliation and the heat of Bob's gaze. Maybe your imagined scenario of riding John's cock while Bob watched and touched himself wasn't such an out there possibility after all.
"She's our girl, Walker," Bob said, shooting John a look over your shoulder. Judging by the way Bob's lips twitched down in an unmistakable sign of disapproval, John definitely rolled his eyes at the other man.
"Thank you, Bob. She's our good girl," John said sarcastically. His hand slipped down, through the mess you'd made of yourself, middle and ring fingers teasing at your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat, your skin still so sensitive from the slap. "And good girls? They get rewarded."
In one rough motion, John thrust his fingers inside of you.
"Jesus!" Bob gasped in surprise.
Crying out, you arched your back, feeling that pleasant burn from the sudden stretch like a jolt of electricity, starting from your aching cunt and radiating up your body. His fingers were so thick. They filled you so much better than your own when you tried to do the same thing. John didn't waste time setting a brutal rhythm. Grabbing at whatever you could reach, you clutched at the arm across your chest, the one that was holding you against him, nails biting into his skin as John ruthlessly fucked you on his fingers. The lewd, wet sounds of your arousal echoed loudly in the room along with your panting, each thrust of his fingers seeming louder than the last.
Then, almost as soon as it had begun, everything came to a screeching halt.
You couldn't stop the whine from escaping your mouth, squirming against the fingers still inside of you, muscles clenching around them.
"Bob," John said flatly, annoyance plain in his tone, "What're you doing? If you wanna touch her, you're gonna have to wait your turn." Blinking, your arousal-fogged brain tried to comprehend the situation. One glance down, and you understood.
Bob was gripping John's forearm in his hand, holding it still. He gently pulled John's fingers out of you, and you whimpered at the loss of them, clenching again but now around nothing.
"Bob," you whined down at him. Bob snapped his head up to you, and there was an unmistakable ring of gold in his blue eyes. And concern clearly etched all over his face.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he reached up and cupped your face tenderly. You leaned into his touch, practically nuzzling his hand. Bob was almost always like this in bed. He handled you like you were something precious, like you were someone to be touched with love and respect and awe that you'd even let him touch you at all. Like you were something sacred. And you loved it. But John had set the tone this morning with rough words and even rougher hands, and you craved the way he touched you like he was claiming you, like you were a possession to be desired and used.
"Wait, is something wrong?" John's tone changed to one of pure concern, and he shifted, adjusting your body to let you sit up. This was unfortunate for you, as you didn't want to sit up at all. If anything, you wanted to go back to a few seconds ago with John's fingers inside of you, so you let out an indignant noise of protest.
John froze immediately. And you took the opportunity to splay yourself back out, pressing your body back against John and the unmistakable bulge in his boxers that hadn't subsided. Despite the turn things had taken, your arousal didn't subside. If anything, it got stronger, seeing these two men you loved so worried about your well-being putting their own wants aside to check in on you. You didn't want to be checked in on; you wanted them to take you apart.
Taking John's hand, you moved it back between your legs, letting him cup your sex. You rolled your hips up, seeking friction, biting your lip to hold back a little pathetic noise that threatened to escape you.
All at once, you felt John's muscles relax against your back, and his warm chuckle thrummed pleasantly through you. "Looks like the only problem is this greedy little pussy wants to be filled." Spreading your lips with his index and ring finger, John circled your clit with his middle finger. His touch was so light and teasing that it conversely made you feel extra sensitive, your legs visibly twitching like you did sometimes when overstimulated.
"You sure you're okay?" Bob asked again, drawing your attention back to him. He was worrying his lower lip with his teeth, that adorable little wrinkle forming between his eyebrows that he only seemed to get when he was concerned that something was wrong with you. "That was…really rough, and we didn't use lube."
Nodding, you turned and kissed the palm of his hand. "Just want more," you murmured. Letting go of John's arm, you reached up and took hold of Bob's wrist instead. You angled it just right to where Bob's thumb ran over your lips, gently outlining them in circular motion, matching John's fingers on your body further south. Bob's breath caught audibly when you pressed a kiss there, humming in pleasure when he pressed his thumb into your mouth. You closed your lips around it and sucked.
"Fuck," John muttered under his breath, voice full of awe and arousal. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you could see John staring down, eyes locked on your mouth. Judging from the way his breathing had picked up, chest rising and falling more rapidly, and the way his pupils had blown wide, he liked what he saw. And you weren't the only one who noticed.
"I think he likes what he sees, angel," Bob murmured, pressing a kiss to your jaw. You let out a pleased sound at his words. Bob turned, catching John's gaze, that mischievous light back in his eyes. "Let's show him more. Baby, let me…" His words trailed off as he pulled his thumb out of your mouth, quickly replacing it with his index and middle fingers, John watching each movement with that careful focus he gave to anything important. You let out another happy hum, closing your eyes as you lathed his fingers with your tongue, getting them nice and wet like you knew Bob wanted.
He didn't stop there, though. Your eyes opened to slits as Bob pulled his fingers back, not pulling them all the way out. You'd done this plenty of times with him before, enough to know instinctively what he wanted. You let your mouth fall open wide enough that John could see the pink of your tongue circle around the tips of Bob's fingers, mimicking the way you'd swirl it around the sensitive tip of Bob's cock.
"God, you're so fucking perfect," Bob cooed at you, making you shudder at his praise. "Looks so damn good with something in her mouth, doesn't she?" This last one was directed at John, who licked his lips, nodding and letting out a single hoarse "yeah" as if that was all he could bring himself to verbalize.
"Watch," was all Bob said before he started pressing back into your mouth. You closed your lips around him eagerly, hollowing out your cheeks as you sucked at his digits. Bob started fingerfucking your mouth, and you let him, letting your eyes close again as you enjoyed the silent surrender. John's finger on your clit still drew lazy circles, and you gave in to the feeling of both of your boyfriends' hands on you and in you. Spit dribbled from the corner of your mouth, your lips slick with it, but you didn't care. You also didn't give a fuck that you could feel your own arousal slipping down your thighs, most likely dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.
You weren't sure how much time had passed by the time Bob started to pull his fingers out of your mouth. You let out a small sound of protest, but Bob quieted you with a gentle kiss to your lips, which were already reddening from Bob using your mouth.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Bob murmured soothingly, pressing another kiss on the very tip of your nose. "Now, open up for me."
You did as you were told, opening your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out just slightly beyond your lips. Bob leaned up, hovering over you. He let the saliva pool in his mouth before opening and pursing his lips, letting it trickle onto your tongue. You held your mouth open after he was done, sticking out your tongue farther, curling it on the edges to hold his spit without spilling a single drop.
"Swallow," Bob said, and you obeyed instantly, even sticking your tongue back out again to show that you'd followed his orders. Without another word, Bob's mouth crashed into yours, drinking down your moans as he kissed you breathless. As he pulled away, a thin strand of saliva stretched between you, only broken when you turned your head to look up at John, who looked absolutely wrecked with want.
"Never done that before?" Bob asked with more than a hint of smugness in his tone. John shook his head but didn't look up at the other man, his eyes locked on your mouth. "Wanna try?" Without waiting for his response, you opened up again, looking up at John with big, pleading eyes.
John glanced at Bob nervously, and the other man gave him an encouraging nod. So John did as he had watched - paused to let his spit gather in his mouth and opened his lips to let it fall. But instead of letting it drip from his lips, John stuck out his tongue, letting his saliva fall from it in wet strands into your mouth. You held it on your tongue, watching him, waiting for his command. It never came. Instead, John leaned down, capturing your mouth with his, sliding his tongue against yours, the spit intermingling between the two of you as you kissed. Closing your eyes, you gave into the sensations - John's tongue sliding slick against yours, his soft beard scratching your delicate skin, the awkward angle of your bodies as you contorted to be able to face each other, and the deep moan that came not from John, but from Bob as he watched your kiss.
When John pulled back, you were both panting, chests heaving for breath. Bob's eyes flitted back and forth between the two of you, hunger evident in his gaze.
"Please," you whimpered, looking at both of your boyfriends. You squirmed under John's light, teasing touch on your sensitive clit, pushing your hips up, seeking out more pressure.
"Please what?" John asked, starting to press kisses down the side of your neck, making you eagerly lean into his touch.
"Please touch me," you answered breathlessly, eyes moving to Bob who was still observing the two of you. "I need your fingers inside of me."
John pulled back just enough to mumble, "You heard the lady, Bobby," before going back to kissing your neck, sucking a deep bruise into your skin before scraping his teeth over it, causing you to shiver beneath him.
"Yes ma'am," Bob murmured, using his split-slick fingers to circle your entrance before slipping one inside. A moan left his lips as your heat enveloped him, your walls eagerly clamping down on his finger. As soon as Bob pushed into you, John stopped teasing and started rubbing hot circles and figure eights on that sensitive little bundle of nerves.
"Wet?" John asked, lifting his head to grin at Bob, amusement dancing in those bright blue eyes.
"Soaked," Bob confirmed, starting to pump his finger in and out of you. Unconsciously, you started moving your hips, rocking them in time to meet his thrusts.
That tension was already building in you again. Both of your boyfriends were touching you, bringing you pleasure simultaneously. It wasn't perfect - John was a little faster and more aggressive on your clit and Bob taking his time and focusing on slowly stretching you - but the visual alone was nearly enough to undo you. Bob was biting his lip in concentration, paying no mind to the strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes, too focused on building up a rhythm as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, watching your hips rise up to meet his thrusts. John had an expression of wonder on his face, like he still couldn't believe he was here. His eyes were everywhere: watching every micro-detail of your face and drinking in your reactions, trailing hotly down your body, watching his own fingers move over your flesh, and staring at Bob's hand as he stretched you open, adding a second finger to your slick heat.
It didn't matter that John was speeding up and Bob almost seemed to be slowing down, not when John pressed a little harder on your throbbing clit and Bob curled his fingers to hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars with every rolling thrust. You could feel it again, the pressure in your stomach, a knot coiling there, each caress, each movement, each second bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
"She's close. Aren't you, honey?" Bob murmured, turning his heated gaze to your face, watching it contort in pleasure. You nodded, unable to form words. "Can feel her squeezing me tight. Like she doesn't want to let go."
"Is that right, baby?" John cooed at you, and you let out a pathetic noise in response. "You like this? Both of your boyfriends touching you? Fucking your sweet little pussy with our fingers?" You clenched even tighter, letting out a whine of both embarrassment and sheer arousal.
Bob looked up at John, a wicked grin on his face. "I think that's a yes."
"Mmm," John hummed in agreement. "But I asked you a question, princess. That wasn't an answer."
Bob wasn't surprised this time when John's hand came down against your sex, the slap ringing in the air along with the obscene sounds of Bob's fingers pounding in and out of you and the wail you let out at the impact.
"Don't let her cum," John ordered, and Bob immediately stopped moving. You let out a cry of despair, pulled away from the edge for the third time that morning. Bob shushed you, stroking your hair with his other hand, pressing kisses all over your face. He silently looked to John for further direction, his face full of concern for you.
John kissed your shoulder where your shirt had fallen down, exposing the skin there. He rested his hand on your hip and rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His voice was much more gentle but still gravelly, rumbling through you as he spoke. "Sweet girl, need you to answer my question. Can you do that for me?"
Looking at him, tears in your eyes, you nodded your head. "I…" Your voice cracked, so you paused to clear your throat, swallowing hard and licking your lips before continuing. "I love it. Love when you touch me." Suddenly shy, you glanced between them, peering from one set of blue eyes to another, one bright as the sky during a sunny day, the other deep as the depths of the ocean during a storm. "I've…I've thought about it before," you confessed, voice almost a whispered. "Both of you. At the same time."
Bob's eyebrows shot up, turning his head to see John's reaction, but the blond kept his gaze firmly on you. He didn't look surprised at all. There was a light in his eyes, one that, even through the haze of pleasure in your head, you recognized from the field. It was the look he'd shoot you when he called something early on in the mission and someone doubted him. It was a look of vindication.
"Whatever our pretty girl wants…" John's hand moved from your hip, skimming over the bare skin of your stomach where the shirt was pushed up. He pressed a kiss to your jaw. "…She gets." He laid an open mouth kiss on your pulse point, your breath catching in your throat as his hand moved under your shirt, skimming the underside of your breasts. "Isn't that right, Bobby?"
"Yeah," Bob said breathlessly. "Yes. Anything."
Pulling back a little bit, John looked down, eyes sweeping over you. Whatever he saw there must have pleased him, because he flashed one of those rare, small smiles, one of the ones that seemed to erase years from his face, leaving behind a vision of the man John must have been before the New Avengers, before the shield, before the army fatigues. "Beautiful," he murmured, catching your eye as he said so. Heat rose to your face, and you tried to hide your face in your pillow, somehow even more bashful under his loving gaze than under his teasing words.
It was Bob who caught you, firmly holding your chin, not allowing you to turn away from the compliment. "He's right. You're so beautiful, baby. So perfect for us."
"Let's take this off," John murmured, tugging your night shirt up. "Wanna see all of you." You let him pull the offending article of clothing over your head and fling it onto the floor, which might as well have been an abyss for all you were concerned. Both men's eyes fell to your torso and chest, eagerly eying all the newly bared flesh now on display. Somehow, you felt more naked than ever trapped between your two fully-clothed boyfriends.
Bob ran his fingertips over your nipples, watching as they pebbled under his touch, hardening to peaks that literally made his mouth water. He absently wiped the drool from his lips with the back of his hand.
"Had to give Bobby something to do with his mouth, darlin'," John drawled. He and Bob locked eyes again, some silent message passing between them. Bob nodded solemnly, and John laid back down behind you. You could feel him moving against you and heard the sound of clothing shifting. Before you could look behind you and see what new mischief he was up to, you felt it - John's cock thrust between your thighs. His hand pressed your legs together, giving him a tight hole to fuck into. His hips slapped against your ass as he gave a few tentative thrusts, your thighs slick from your own arousal lubricating the slide there. You could feel him shudder against your back.
"Could fuck your sweet thighs for hours," John murmured in your ear. "But you've been teased enough tonight." He manhandled you, easily spreading your legs to make more room for him. Grasping his thick length, John rubbed the head, already wet with precum, through your folds, using your slick to coat his cock with your fluids. You whimpered when it brushed against your clit, pressing back against him for more friction on your aching bud. Your fingers dug into Bob's sweater, unconsciously balling your hands in the worn, faded fabric. Normally, Bob would comfort you, but he was otherwise occupied, his eyes watching John's cock move back and forth as though hypnotized by the movement.
As he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip pressed against you so close he could feel it when your muscles clenched. John leaned in to murmur in your ear. "Ready? I promise to go slow."
"Jonathan Fitzgerald Walker, you will do no such thing," you bit out, grinding your ass back against him. "Fuck me, or I'll fuck myself on you."
Bob's breath audibly hitched at your words, and John let out a low, shaky groan. You could almost swear you felt his dick pulse at your words.
"Yes ma'am," he affirmed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before starting to push inside. It was faster than you imagine he would have liked, but it wasn't nearly fast enough for you. Using your leg that was still propped up on John's hip, you pushed yourself back and pulled him forward as much as you could, not stopping until he bottomed out inside of you. The stretch didn't give you pause; you wanted more of it. You wanted all that he could give you.
John swore, his hips stuttering involuntarily. He grabbed at your hips, holding you still so you couldn't follow through on your promise.
"Need a minute," he grunted out, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. You tried to wriggle, but his grip was like iron. "You keep movin' like that, and this is gonna be over before we even get started."
"Good," you snarled back at him, still trying to shimmy your hips out of his grasp, desperate for him to move. "I want you to fuck your cum into me." John's cock twitched inside of you, his grip tightening enough that you could practically feel bruises in the shapes of his fingers forming on your skin.
"Bobby…Bob, please," John ground out through gritted teeth. "'M not gonna last if she keep this up."
His words were enough to snap Bob out of the trance he'd been in, staring fixated at where John's cock was stretching your aching hole, spearing you open. He quickly took in the situation: John with his eyes closed in concentration, jaw clenched hard as he fought back the nearly overwhelming urge to cum, and you, determination in your eyes and a kind of feral ferocity in your face, having moved from whiny and submissive to aggressively taking what you wanted. Bob slid down the bed and let himself do what he'd been fighting the urge to do ever since John spread you out like a feast before him - he dove in face first.
As Bob's mouth enveloped your clit, you let out a gasp, your body freezing. He gave one harsh suck, and you cried out his name, fisting your hands in his shaggy hair. In an instant, he was everywhere, sucking and licking and moaning wantonly against your heat, not even seeming to care when his tongue would brush against John's cock as he devoured you. And John certainly didn't seem to mind. After he got a rein on his self-control, he gazed over your shoulder as Bob placed several little kitten licks to your clit before leaning back enough to spit right on it. Both men watched as Bob's saliva trickled down, running in a stream down your slit and wetting John's balls.
Somewhere along the way, John started moving, his pace deliciously deep and agonizingly slow. He ground his hips against your ass, pushing the head of his prick against that little spot inside of you that he'd previously abused with his fingers. It became borderline overwhelming almost immediately - the thick drag of John's cock inside of you making you feel impossibly full, and the wet heat of Bob's mouth and tongue combining to make for the best kind of sensory overload. You weren't even aware of anything anymore, not where you were, not the words pouring out of your mouth - praise and pleading and pleasure all bleeding together. Everything pushing you higher and higher, the knot in your stomach coiling tighter with every thrust, every lick until you broke with a cry, your body shaking apart. Neither man stopped as they worked you through your orgasm, both pairs of hands holding you down as they coaxed wave after wave of undulating pleasure out of you.
When you started whimpering and twitching away, Bob let go of your still-pulsing clit, the lower part of his face slick with your desire. He pulled himself up the bed, capturing your mouth in a blistering kiss. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips, tightening your grip on his hair until he rolled his hips against your thigh.
John barely gave you any time to recover before he resumed, starting up a hard and fast pace, catching you entirely off guard. When you whined into Bob's mouth, writhing in overstimulation, John's voice purred in your ear, "You're doing so good. Taking me so well, princess. Feels fucking incredible. So tight, like you're made for this. Made for my cock."
Breathing hard, Bob pulled back to watch as your face contorted in bliss. "She likes that," he murmured, voice low, breathy, and full of wonder.
John chuckled. "'Course she does. Likes to be told she's a good little fucktoy." He bit out the last word with a grunt as he slammed his hips, pistoning his cock into you even harder. You tried to hold back a pathetic whimper at his words, biting your lower lip hard enough to leave teeth marks. But John angled his next thrust differently, the fat head of his cock ramming into your G-spot. So you let out a strangled gasp that devolved into little whimpers that escaped your mouth with each subsequent thrust.
"Fuck," Bob practically moaned, drinking in your reactions. "She does like that." You could practically see his mind racing with possibilities at all the new revelations this morning had brought to light.
You struggled to keep your eyes open but forced yourself to, taking in how utterly wrecked Bob looked. His hair was wild, sticking out in clumps from where your hands had gripped his locks. His eyes were practically black as he gazed at you with utter focus, like he was blocking everything else out, his world narrowing to you and your pleasure. His lips were kiss-bruised and reddened, chin still slick from tasting you. His cheeks were pink, the color bleeding down his neck and slipping under the neck of his sweater. And he was panting, chest rising and falling too quickly for someone just watching. It was then that you heard it - the sound of skin on skin, separate from the loud, lewd claps of John's hips against your ass and the slap of his balls against your leaking cunt. Bob was touching himself. Cutting your eyes down, you watched as his hand stroked up and down his rigid shaft. His grip was tight, pace fast and almost punishing. The weeping red crown of him was impossible to look away from. You watched as each stroke milked out pearls of precum. He thumbed the head with every few strokes, smearing the droplets and using them to lubricate the glide of his hand.
When you looked back up, Bob's eyes met yours, still locked on your face. Whatever he saw there, it obviously pleased him. He smirked, a bit of gold flashing in his eyes.
"Yeah, pretty girl. Couldn't help myself." Bob pushed his hips towards you, letting his bare cock slide against your upper thighs. He angled it, swiping the wet tip against your swollen clit. You couldn't hold back, crying out his name as the sensation pulsed through you.
"Feel good?" Bob practically purred. You nodded your head, unable to force your mouth to form any other sound than a moan or whimper. "Fuck, you're so beautiful. Look at you, angel. Coming apart on John's cock. You've never looked better."
With a growl, John reached over, fisting his hand in Bob's hair, right between where you had your hands. Bob cried out at the other man's grip, his cockiness melting away immediately, leaving him whimpering and desperately fucking up into his own fist. "Put that mouth to use, Reynolds," John hissed through gritted teeth, forcibly dragging Bob's mouth down to your breast. He didn't hesitate to follow orders, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking hard. His cheeks hollowed as he suckled at your breast, causing you to moan as the pressure of his mouth combined with the hot, wet swipes of his tongue around your pebbled flesh. Bob stared up, his eyes not on you for once but locked on the blond behind you who met Bob's heated gaze with one of his own.
"Yeah, that's better, " John grunted out. "Suck on 'em. Make our girl feel good." When John's grip tightened in his hair, Bob let out a whine, his teeth scraping over your nipple, sending a shudder down your spine at the pain/pleasure combination. John used that opening to pull Bob by the hair to your other breast, where he repeated the treatment, lathing your neglected nipple with his tongue before capturing it in his mouth, sucking hard enough that it was just shy of too much. "There we go. Can't forget that one, can we?"
Bob made an affirmative noise, but you knew from experience anything but verbal confirmation wasn't good enough when John was in this head space. That was confirmed when John yanked Bob's hair hard enough to rip him off of you. Bob cried out, practically sobbing with pleasure from John's roughness. If he kept this up too much longer, Bob was going to finish prematurely just from John pulling his hair, the overwhelming arousal and pain making Bob twitchy and desperate as his hand picked up the pace, fist practically a blur as he pumped his aching length.
"What do you say?" John ground out.
"No," Bob answered instantly, breath hot on your spit-soaked skin and glazed eyes pleading for approval.
"No, what?" John prompted. You couldn't see him from this angle, but you had seen him get like this enough to imagine - the lowered brow as he pinned Bob with a burning hot stare, flared nostrils as John tried to not pant as he continued pumping his cock into you, the clenched jaw and gritted teeth and he held himself back from fucking you using his full strength, so hard that you would be bedridden the next day. He was a picture of fire and discipline like this. And Bob looked enraptured.
Bob pulled off of your breast with a pop, wrenching another keening sound from your lips. "No sir," he corrected, sticking his tongue out and lathing your nipple in his saliva to soothe the ache there. Bob's eyes stayed fixed on John's, watching for his approval.
There was a pause from behind you. You could practically feel John's hesitation before he finally spoke. "Good boy," he growled out, voice dipping half an octave lower.
Bob's breath caught as he inhaled through his nose, eyes rolling back in his head as he groaned in pleasure at the praise. And you were no better, practically weeping out John's name, your walls fluttering around him.
That delicious pressure was growing inside of you again, the muscles tensing in your body as you let yourself give in to pure sensation, chasing your high. The strokes of John's cock hitting that electric spot inside of you, every rough suck of Bob's mouth that felt like just the right side of too much forced you higher, building up inside of you. Bob's breath huffed out through his nose, ghosting over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He took your neglected breast, slick with his spit, and rolled your nipple in his fingers, pinching the bud until you cried out, pussy quivering around John. You were so damn close. John must have felt it too, because he doubled down, jackhammering into you with pinpoint accuracy, your cunt seeming to tighten around him with every thrust. He was talking was in your ear - panting, coaxing, begging - but you couldn't make out the words; you just let his voice wash over you.
When you came, it was like your climax slammed into you, flooding you all at once, leaving you gasping and moaning and writhing in your lovers' embrace. You threw your head back against your pillow, body bowing under the waves of euphoria that crashed over you. John was right behind you, pounding into you once, twice more before breaking with your name on his lips, hips twitching as he pumped you full of his spend in hot pulses that flooded you with his warmth. There was so much that you could already feel it trickling out around John's cock still buried deep and throbbing inside of you. Bob made a choked noise, pulling off of your breast as his body jerked against yours. He moaned your name, almost sounding pained as he came, his release painting your stomach white with his cum.
You must have fallen asleep for a moment, because the next thing you remembered, you were on your back, both boyfriends on either side of you. John was stroking your hair, looking as sated as you felt as he watched your face with a love-softened gaze. Bob was pressing kisses to every inch he could reach, whispering sweet nothings into your skin, his preferred way of worshiping at your altar.
"There she is," John murmured. "Our pretty girl." His hair was a mess, something you hadn't noticed before. If you didn't feel so sleepy and boneless, you'd poke fun at him about it. But you didn't even have the energy to giggle at him. You just smiled, a vision of satisfaction.
Bob lifted his head to see you, giving you a sleepy grin that bordered on looking dopey, like he was tipsy. "That was awesome."
Even though you were tired, a laugh still burbled up out of you. John didn't make a sound, but you felt his chest rumble with silent laughter.
"Yeah," he agreed, looking at Bob with amusement in his eyes. "That was pretty great."
"We should do that again," Bob said, and both men turned to look at you. You weren't sure what they wanted - elation, reassurance, permission - but you gave them all three.
"Hopefully soon," you added. Both John and Bob looked pleased with your answer - Bob beaming from ear to ear and John giving you one of his small, pleased smiles that he saved just for you. "But maybe not too soon. I could use a good shower and a nap. Probably not in that order, though."
John made a noise of disagreement. "We need to get you cleaned up and some new sheets put on the bed. Otherwise you're gonna wake up feeling gross."
You shrugged. Even that small movement felt like too much work. "That is for future me to worry about. Current me is going to get some shut eye." When John shot you an admonishing look, you continued. "Besides, pretty sure my lower half is made of jelly right now."
"I'll carry you," Bob offered.
"And we'll get you clean," John added. "You won't have to lift a finger."
You sighed. This was definitely going to become a pattern, John and Bob teaming up to bully you into letting them take care of you. It wasn't exactly the kind of doubleteaming you'd been dreaming of. "I don't really get a choice in this, do I?"
"Nope!" Bob said cheerfully, popping his lips on the 'p' sound.
"All right, all right," you grumbled, starting to sit up. Both men immediately scrambled to help you. As much as you hated to admit it, maybe they were right. Even though a nap sounded heavenly, the idea of waking up sticky was appalling. Not that you'd ever admit that to them. "No funny business, though." You fixed each of them with a playful glare.
Bob managed to look sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. But John just smirked, eyes sweeping up and down your body. And when he met your gaze, you knew there was no way he was through with you.
"No promises."
Divider Credit -> @/strangergraphics
Images in header are not mine
Cross-posted to AO3
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