#voidwalker x reader

[lalalunawrites]

I Want My Boyfriends To Kiss

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x John Walker x Fem!Thunderbolts!Reader

Word Count: 22.5k

Summary: Your boyfriends have been acting strange recently, like they're hiding something from you. After you come to find out they have some secret plans involving you, them, and a whole lotta rope, you take it upon yourself to come up with a plan of your own to turn the tables on them.

Tags/Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY, planned seduction, dirty talk, teasing, John calling Bob "Bobby" with pre-established consent, alcohol drinking, lingerie, "forced" submission (consent established ahead of time), BDSM, bondage, handcuffs, usage of sexual nicknames (good boy/pretty boy/sweet boy, good girl, mistress, puppy), hair pulling, praise kink, dry humping, facesitting, degradation, oral (f and m receiving), squirting, light nipple play, masturbation (f and m), vibrator usage, handjob

A/N: It's finally here!! Been working on this one for a month and a half. HOPE YOU LIKE SMUT because there is SO MUCH of it. Happy gooning, I suppose. Once again, based on the eponymous song "I Want My Boyfriends to Kiss" by Ashnikko. This is the sequel to Swap Spit, Lock Lips and in the same universe as Starting Patterns. I've been mentally referring to it as the Smoochieverse. I've already started a (much shorter) sequel to this one where John and Bob get their revenge...

Smoochieverse Masterlist

John thought he was so damn clever. That he could rope Bob into his schemes and pull a fast one right under your nose. But you? You knew that man. And John, for all his top secret ops and specialized military stealth training, was garbage at being sneaky. He stuck out on the battlefield like a red, white, and black battering ram, running into enemy fire with a battle cry, his shield whizzing from enemy to enemy. And he stuck out when he was trying to plot in private.

All of the sudden, John and Bob were seemingly inseparable. As if that wasn't enough of a red flag in and of itself, they always had guilty expressions whenever you'd enter a room with them, dead quiet like they'd heard you coming and dropped the conversation before you got within earshot.

At first, you thought maybe they'd finally acted on the tension that had been building ever since you all slept together that first morning. The way John had grabbed Bob and told him what to do to you? And the heat in Bob's eyes as he obeyed, looking to John for approval? Absolutely undeniable. And, if you were honest with yourself, it was hot as hell. There was some part of you that had wanted to see them kiss since John slammed Bob against the wall back in the vault.

But before you could overthink the situation (was it even really cheating if you were already dating both of them and actively having threesomes together?), Ava took it upon herself to intervene. Rather, she took the opportunity to spill the beans out of spite. John really shouldn't have eaten her last pack of Jaffa Cakes.

"They're planning something," Ava had said, apropos of nothing. Just walked up to you in the gym and proverbially laid it on the table like a cat would drop a dead bird at your feet. There was no question who she was talking about, so Ava didn't even waste her time saying their names. "Overheard their conversation in the kitchen this morning. And it involves you."

"Do I want to know?" you'd asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oh, you most definitely did.

Turns out, Ava didn't overhear some romantic date plan or a surprise weekend getaway; she overheard plans to forcibly dominate you. It was consensual, of course. You'd discussed rules and boundaries with John and Bob, both separately then together after the three of you had started your exploration of bedroom possibilities as a single unit. And while the idea of both of your boyfriends overpowering you and ravishing you was extremely tempting…so was the idea of flipping the script on them.

According to Ava, the plan was going to be carried out during your weekly threeway movie date…which just so happened to be tonight. It didn't leave you a lot of time to work with, but fortunately for you, John was very good at pissing people off. Which you could use to your advantage.

The next disgruntled party was, of course, Bucky. Even though he and your boyfriend's relationship had calmed significantly since their…rocky introduction, Bucky wasn't exactly the president of the John Walker fan club. So, when you presented him with the opportunity to thwart the other super soldier, Bucky readily agreed.

"Make sure it's worth the strings I pulled to get 'em," he said eying you with playful suspicion. You made grabby hands at him, and he actually cracked a bit of a smile.

"What kind of strings?" you asked as he passed over a medium-sized silver briefcase. Laying it on a nearby table, you flipped up the clasps and attempted to open the case. Unfortunately, your plan was temporarily foiled by the lock. You shot Bucky a look, extending your hand as he fished the keys out of his back pocket and tossed them to you.

A moment later, the case was open, revealing a thick pair of manacles - ones strong enough to hold even a super soldier. Unlike regular handcuffs, these didn't have a chain in the middle. That gave too much room for movement and were far too easy to snap no matter how reinforced they were. Instead, this set had a thick block of metal connecting the cuffs, forcing the wearer's hands to stay closer together and better impeded any potential escape attempt. Unlike most shackles, these were lined with a soft, black fabric and seemed to have some foam added for comfort.

"The kind where my contact is convinced they're for my personal use. Never gonna be able to look that man in the eye again." When you snorted at his words, Bucky fixed you with a glare, but there was no real heat behind it.

Satisfied, you closed the case and turned back to your woefully besmirched teammate. "Don't worry. I'll make sure John knows that you aided in his downfall."

The next injured party was Yelena. You desperately needed to go shopping for a specific item of clothing, and you needed backup. Sure, you could go alone, but plotting was so much better with a friend. As were the food court soft pretzels.

But, when you originally asked Yelena, she said she was busy. Busy looked an awful lot like sitting in the main living room, idly flipping through a tactical gear catalog that had come in the mail and half-watching some particularly trashy reality television.

Her schedule miraculously cleared up when you name-dropped your boyfriend and hinted at you plotting against him. Turns out, Yelena wasn't a big fan of people using her equipment without her permission. And she actively hated when said equipment was damaged from said person spilling pre-workout all over it. Needless to say, Yelena would have preferred to shove one of her short-circuited batons up John's ass, but she'd make do with aiding your scheme.

The soft pretzels also helped.

"What are we looking for again?" Yelena asked, flipping through hangers until she found something low cut in your size. She pulled it out and held it up for inspection.

You shook your head, and she put it back on the rack, continuing the search. "It needs to be low cut enough to draw Bob's attention but casual enough that it doesn't look like I'm trying to dress up."

"What's wrong with dressing up?" Yelena grumbled as you shook your head at another top, this one a bright cerulean. Another one far too low cut. Too obvious.

"Our movie dates are always casual. Like, 'sometimes I wear pajamas' level casual. It would attract notice if I dressed up. John would know something's up."

Yelena cocked an eyebrow at you. "You really think he'd get suspicious? If you wore a slutty little 'fuck me' dress, I'm not sure he'd be doing much thinking at all."

You shrugged. "Fair. But it isn't part of the plan to work John up. Just Bob." You pulled out a sweater that was just the right amount of casual with a neckline just low enough to draw Bob's gaze. Unfortunately, it was a deep maroon color. With a sigh, you returned it to the rack.

"What was wrong with that one?" Yelena asked, her tone a little on the exasperated side.

"Wrong color," you muttered, taking a step to another rack of clothes. "I need something a stain would show up on."

Stopping dead in her tracks, Yelena turned to fix you with a glower. "You're looking for a new top that you're planning on ruining," she deadpanned. She wasn't asking, just stating facts as if she couldn't believe them.

"Well, I won't be ruining it, not if I can pop it in the wash somewhat quickly."

Yelena stared at you, completely unblinking. It was the kind of look that would cause even the most stubborn person (i.e. John or Bucky) to back down from an argument. Or force a confession out of a captured enemy combatant. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, visibly uncomfortable.

"Something tells me that's going to be the last thing on your mind."

Having no argument for that, you picked up the red sweater again and put it over your arm. "I'll try it on."

"That's all I ask." Pacified, Yelena returned to the hunt, flipping through hangers again.

You managed to find the perfect top: a heather grey sweater cozy enough to wear around the Watchtower that also hugged your breasts enough to hold Bob's attention. And after a pit stop at another store Yelena suggested and some food court junk food (including one too many soft pretzels courtesy of Yelena's expert-level peer pressuring), your plan was ready to commence.

Naturally, John showed up first. Even without recognizing his jaunty knock, you knew he would be the one standing there when you opened the door. After all, it was precisely 7 o'clock. Not a minute before or after. And, as always, he had a large bowl of freshly buttered popcorn in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

John was always a little less casual than you and Bob, wearing a dark blue flannel neatly tucked into a pair of boot cut jeans, complete with a large silver belt buckle. He'd most likely been wearing boots but had the decency to toe them off outside the door, knowing you didn't allow shoes in your quarters. The second those bright, sky blue eyes locked on yours, he fixed you with a wide smile, one that always made your heart flutter.

Leaning down, John kissed your temple, mumbling, "Evenin', pretty lady," because he knew it would make you roll your eyes at him. Which you did.

Taking the bowl of popcorn from his hands, you walked over and placed it on the coffee table next to the glasses you'd already brought out. You didn't see John's eyes travel down your body, eying your ass in the loose, comfortable skirt you wore, but you definitely noticed when you turned back around and caught his gaze on your legs. He didn't even try to hide his lecherous gaze, just quirking up his lips when you caught him staring.

"John," you playfully admonished. Coming back over to where he stood stock still inside the doorway, you gave him a light shove, one that didn't even budge him. It was ridiculous how hot that was. The man didn't move, and it made you wet. You knew that if you really tried, braced your hands on his arms and shoved, John might be forced to move back a little. And those same arms could pick you up like you weighed nothing and throw you over his shoulder. Judging by the look on his face, John was tempted to do just that. Instead, his free hand found your hip like it was magnetized, and his other arm wrapped around you, pulling you neatly against his chest.

"John," you said again but with a warning tone in your voice, managing to keep your words steady. If he wasn't careful, John was apt to ruin his own plan, let alone yours.

"Hmm?" he hummed, leaning down to start planting slow, closed-mouth kisses along your jaw. Each subsequent brush of his lips made it harder and harder to resist turning your head and seeking out another kiss. A deeper one.

"Remember the rule of movie night - no making out," you said, just as much to yourself as to John.

That was a rule you'd had to make early on in your weekly movie dates. Otherwise, you ended up finding yourself topless and straddling one of your boyfriends barely halfway through the movie. Or, like one particularly fun night, sitting between them with your hands on their cocks, slowly stroking them to completion while you happily watched Legally Blonde. While that was a fantastic night, you'd had to re-watch the movie the next week because neither man remembered a damn thing about it. So you'd all (reluctantly) agreed - movie first, sexy times after. And for the most part, it worked.

"It's not making out if I get on my knees and stick my head under your skirt while you watch the movie," John practically growled, starting to move his kisses down your neck. You inhaled sharply at his words, nails biting into his arms. He smiled against your skin, pleased at your reaction.

For a split second, you were tempted to say fuck it to your carefully crafted plan and let John's mouth wander where it wanted.

Fortunately, there was a tentative knock at the door that broke the spell his lips had cast on you, startling you out of John's embrace. He tried to pull you back in, but the moment was gone.

"Bob's here," you reminded, moving out of John's quickly encroaching arms and trying to take a step past him. He let you move by him unimpeded, but strong arms encircled your waist from behind as you reached out to grasp the doorknob. You allowed it - for now.

Opening the door revealed the missing element of your trio - Bob. He was dressed exactly how you expected - in a fresh pair of loose grey sweatpants and his favorite blue hoodie, the wrists worn from Bob absentmindedly picking at and rubbing the fabric. He held a bottle of sparkling juice in one hand and a bag full of snacks in the other, the same as he always did on movie night.

By the look on his face, Bob almost immediately noticed John plastered to your back. Before he could make a snarky comment, however, his gaze flitted down to your neckline. The double take he did was almost comical, eyes bulging like you'd opened the door in the nude.

Bob was the biggest breast man you'd ever met. He was absolutely obsessed with yours, always working to get your top off as quickly as possible. Sometimes he was so impatient he didn't even take off your bra. He'd just pull down the cups, groaning like he'd found home as he latched onto your nipples. On more than one occasion, he'd fallen asleep with his mouth on one and his hand on the other, fully splayed across you. And if you tried to move, his limbs would tighten to keep you in place. And, judging from the look on his face and how his fingers were twitching, you'd picked the right top. Thank you, Yelena.

"You okay there, Bobby?" John asked with a smirk. He saw exactly where Bob's eyes went and followed them himself, peering down at the very tops of your breasts that pressed against the grey fabric. It was subtle, a peak of cleavage that hinted at what lay underneath, hugging your breasts tightly enough to entice without making it look like you were bursting out of your blouse. "Mmm, I see why he's so distracted. You tryin' to kill us, baby? Wearin' that cute little skirt with your legs showin' and that top?"

Even though your outfit was hardly skimpy, you'd once again underestimated just how horny your boyfriends were, especially when they egged each other on. You'd just have to make due.

You scoffed. "You would say that if I was wearing a crusty hoodie and a pair of old granny panties."

From the flash in Bob's eyes, 'panties,' granny or otherwise, was the wrong word to say.

"Okay, down boys," you said with a shaky laugh, reaching forward and taking the bottle of sparkling juice out of Bob's hands. You did your best not to sway your hips as you walked over to the couch, but you could feel their eyes on you anyway.

When you didn't hear any footsteps behind you, you turned around with your arms crossed just below your chest. Bob's eyes raised from where he'd been watching your ass but not high enough to look you in the face like John was.

"Robeeert," you admonished, drawing the 'e' in his name out with a warning tone in your voice. His eyes snapped up to yours, head jerking like a stretched rubber band that had just been released. Covering your mouth with your hand, you fought down a laugh.

"C'mon, it's movie night." Settling in the middle of the couch, you patted the seats next to you welcomingly. "Plus, I could use some wine," you added, gesturing at the bottle in John's hand. That finally propelled him into motion.

The sexual tension lessened to a quiet hum of anticipation as everyone prepped for the night ahead, falling into a familiar rhythmic pattern. John poured the glasses - wine for you and him, the sparkling juice for Bob - while Bob worked on laying out various snacks, sorting them to put them in easy reach.

When everything was ready, John dimmed the lights as you pulled up the movie of the week, Lethal Weapon. It was John's choice, and neither you nor Bob were surprised at his pick. His love of buddy cop movies was well documented between the three of you at this point, just like Bob's love of stoner comedies and your love of what you considered classic romcoms.

All three of you settled in, Bob resting his head on your shoulder and John with his arm around your waist, as the opening credits started to roll. They were good, you'd give them that. If you weren't looking for it, you never would have noticed the way John reached down to check that the rope and handcuffs he'd placed below his seat cushion were still in position. It just looked like he was straightening out the leg of his jeans. And you'd never have noticed the questioning look Bob shot John and the latter's slow nod of confirmation if you hadn't been watching them sharply in your peripheral vision.

You slowly gathered the ingredients for your plan to work - five minutes in, you snagged the bowl of popcorn, placing it in your lap. That was usually how it went anyway, making the popcorn equally accessible for everyone. A few more minutes after that, you leaned forward to grab your wine. Bob lifted his head, letting you get the glass and putting it back on your shoulder as you settled back down. Lightly sipping on your wine, you waited for the right moment.

That moment came more quickly than expected when Bob reached for a box of candy on the table. You had to time this perfectly. For your plan to work, you needed what was going to happen to be equally your fault and Bob's.

"Bob, baby, can you get me my candy, too?" you asked innocently.

Wordlessly, he obeyed. If there was one thing that was always true about Bob Reynolds, it was that he aimed to please. And that went doubly so in your relationship. He was the kind of man that, if you asked for it, would figure out a way to pluck the stars from the sky for you. So naturally, Bob immediately forgot about his own candy and prioritized your request.

You angled your body to face him, your arm positioned just right so that, when Bob sat back up, his elbow knocked the wine glass in your hand, spilling it all over your top, down your chest, and directly into the bowl of popcorn.

The room went completely still, all three of you staring in shock at your ruined top, a literal splash of deep scarlet spreading on your grey sweater. It was as if you all were temporarily frozen in time. The only signs of life were the sounds of the TV playing with no one watching it and the slow seep of wine bleeding further into your clothes. That unnatural stillness lasted for a few beats before you all snapped into motion, first John, then Bob, and finally you.

John grabbed the bowl of wine-soaked popcorn out of your lap, placing it square in the middle of the coffee table to prevent it being knocked over. Bob took the glass from your hand and scooted the coffee table over to give you more room. You stood up, turning around to make sure that no wine had dripped onto your couch, breathing a sigh of relief at the unsullied seat.

John took charge immediately. It was kind of adorable, seeing him treating a simple spill like a battlefield, instantly strategizing a plan of attack and commanding his soldiers. It was exactly what Bob needed. Instead of getting in his head and feeling like he'd ruined the night (and your shirt), John made him feel useful.

As they both dabbed at your clothing with the paper towels Bob fetched from the main kitchen, you decided to cut to the chase. Taking a step back, you ignored the men's confused reactions, grabbing the hem of your sweater and tugging it over your head. You had to bite back a wicked smile at the wide-eyed looks on their faces, staring at you like their brains were buffering.

Bob at least had the decency to look away. He seemed to understand that you needed to change your outfit and was doing his best to not openly stare at your chest. But the flush climbing his neck betrayed his reaction.

John, on the other hand, grinned at you wolfishly. "If I knew all I had to do to get you naked was spill some wine on you, I'd've brought more than one bottle."

You gave him an exaggerated roll of your eyes before looking down at your wine-covered chest. The red liquid had gotten on your bra as well, but, with the tension that had been permeating the room all night, taking that off as well would open the floodgates. Instead, you touched your skin, making a face at the stickiness that lingered on your hand. You could feel your boyfriends' eyes on you, greedily drinking in the sight of you half naked. Now was the perfect time to implement phase two before John managed to remember about his own plan and that pair of handcuffs under the couch cushions.

"I think I'm going to have to take a quick shower," you said, keeping your voice casual like you didn't know exactly what that imagery would do to your already wound up boyfriends. You didn't miss the way Bob licked his lips or how John took a step closer to you.

"Well, you know…" John started, playfully drawing his words out like he was coming up with some brilliant idea. His eyes had a mischievous light in them that you knew all too well - you were mere seconds away from him doing something like grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder. "We could always -"

"Here." Thrusting your hand out in front of you, you deposited your soiled sweater in the hand John brought up to touch you. He blinked, taken aback. But his fingers obediently clenched around the fabric as you let go of it.

"Why are you -"

"Would you mind throwing that in the wash?" you asked, making sure to look up at him from under your lashes. "And maybe make us some more popcorn? That way we can all be ready to start the movie over after I get cleaned off?"

When John hesitated, clearly torn between being helpful and being lecherous, you pouted at him, jutting out your lower lip just a little. For extra ammo, you wrapped your arms around your torso seemingly for warmth but in reality it was so you could subtly press your breasts together, exaggerating your cleavage.

"Please?" you asked sweetly, batting your lashes at him.

"Okay, okay," John grumbled. Despite his grouching, he couldn't quite hide his smile when you stood up on your toes to press a grateful (but chaste) kiss to his lips.

You wasted no time once you'd stepped into the bathroom. For your plan to work, you needed to be quick. Unfortunately, your room was fairly close to the kitchen. That combined with John being super particular and refusing to use anything but an extra-speedy air popper on his popcorn meant that, normally, you'd only have about five minutes to pull this off. But the laundry room was on another floor, giving you a few extra precious minutes, ones you were determined not to waste.

After shedding your clothes, you ran the shower to maintain your ruse, but you didn't step inside. Instead, you grabbed a washcloth, adding a small drop of soap and quickly cleaning and rinsing your wine-sticky chest. Then you broke out your secret weapon.

Right now, it just looked like a little bundle of delicate black fabric pressed flat underneath the stacked towels you stashed it under. It was soft to the touch as you slipped it over your shoulders, the silky material caressing your skin as you smoothed it down your body, gently coaxing the chemise over your hips. The stockings came next, sliding on easily and coming to rest mid-thigh. The elastic on the lacy hem was probably enough to keep them on, but you used the garter straps dangling from the bottom of the chemise to fully secure them. There was something that appealed to you about the tug when you shifted, the straps pulling lightly at the stockings. It was like you were secured into the entire outfit, stockings included, a kind of self-inflicted bondage that sent a pulse of warmth through you.

Looking in the mirror, you were slightly caught off guard by your own reflection. Sure, you'd tried it on in the store, but those florescent yellow light fixtures did no one any favors. Here, under the warm glow of your bathroom lights, you were a vision in lace and satin. The fabric clung to you, each breath making your breasts lift, straining against the nearly sheer material. There was just enough opacity on the lace cups to blur, merely hinting at the tantalizing skin that laid underneath. Your eyes followed the light boning that stretched down the front, helping the material press flat against your body while still maintaining the structure of the little dress. Most of the fabric was opaque except for two lace panels down the side, making your silhouette look more sleek while accentuating your hips.

Turning around in the mirror, you couldn't help but grin at yourself. The entire back of the dress was made of the see-through fabric, showcasing the elegant curve of your back and the plush softness of your ass. Sure, the outfit came with a little lacy thong, but those wouldn't be on for long anyway. Might as well save your boyfriends the effort of removing them.

Next, you reached under the sink, pulling out a mesh bag you'd hidden earlier. Carefully, you lined the contents up on the bathroom counter, mentally triple checking that you had everything.

Now, it was time to implement phase three of your plan. You cracked open the bathroom door and positioned yourself on the opposite side of it, closer to the shower.

Cupping a hand to your mouth to amplify the sound, you called out for your first victim.

"Bob! I need your help!"

You pressed your ear to the door, heart pounding in your chest, as you strained your ears for any subsequent noises - an answering voice, a creak of the bedroom door, or the sound of heavy footsteps. There was a muffled murmur but no further movement. So you called out again.

"Bob! I need you to grab my shampoo! Please!"

There were some distinct rustling noises but nothing definitive. With a sigh, you braced yourself, using your diaphragm to really shout.

"BOB! C'MERE!"

You didn't have to wait long before the bedroom door opened, and Bob shuffled his way over to the bathroom. Ever polite, he hovered outside the door.

"Did you call for me?" Bob asked from the other side.

You cupped your hand to your mouth again, this time angling it away from the door, toward the shower to make it sound like your voice was coming from there.

"Yes! Could you grab my shampoo for me? It's in the cabinet." You paused, then grinned mischievously to yourself before continuing, "I'd get it, but I'm soaking wet."

Your words had the intended effect. "Jesus," you heard Bob mutter to himself, groaning at the imagery you'd conjured for him. You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

"Coming, angel!" he said louder for you to hear, pushing the door open and stepping in. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the items you'd laid out on the counter.

"What the…" Before Bob could turn, you closed the door behind him, leaning against it to block the way out.

Bob started, whipping around. He already looked surprised, but his eyes widened further and his lips parted as he took in your change of wardrobe. His eyes traveled up your stockinged legs, over the garter straps, and followed the lines of the chemise before stopping at the semi-transparent fabric just barely covering your chest. You could practically feel his gaze on your breasts like a physical caress, your nipples hardening under his intense scrutiny. You were sure he could just see the peaks through the fabric.

Finally, Bob managed to wrench his eyes away from your chemise. He was flushed and dazed, chest visibly rising and falling as he took in air like he couldn't quite catch his breath. There was a wildness in his gaze, a mix of sudden arousal and sheer confusion, that sent a wave of heat through your body.

"Baby," Bob started but stopped, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat, licking his dry lips, before continuing. "Baby, what is this? Why are you wearing…" He stared in awe at you like Aphrodite herself had descended from the heavens to grace him with her presence. Words seemed to fail him, like he was completely unable to describe the temptation in physical form that was in front of him. So he finished his sentence by croaking out the word, "…That?"

"What? You don't like my new outfit?" you asked innocently, tilting your head to the side. Stalking towards him, you let your hips sway tantalizingly. You felt like some beast of the hunt that had finally located its prey and was contemplating what spot to sink your teeth into first. Bob froze to the spot, watching you like a sailor enraptured in a siren's song, watching helplessly as the ship sailed closer and closer to the jagged rocks that spelled his doom. It was a heady kind of power, one you'd only ever felt before in the bedroom. Just the idea that you could entrance a man with the powers of a god with a lacy outfit and a few choice words was intoxicating. He stared at you like you were a goddess. And you fucking felt like one.

You backed him up against the counter, stepping into his space, stopping only mere inches away. So close you could practically feel his warmth through his hoodie.

"Do you want me to…" you started, using your index and middle fingers to walk your hand up Bob's chest. He was fixated, hanging on your every word like they were of the utmost importance. So you lowered your voice to a husky purr as you finished your sentence. "…Take it off?"

Bob's hands shot down, bracing himself against the counter like his legs suddenly needed the extra support. Like he was going to fall down at your feet if he didn't.

"Oh my God," he muttered shakily, eyes darting away like he couldn't stand to look at you directly, like he was unworthy.

You didn't wait for him to answer. You continued speaking.

"I thought of you when I bought it, baby," you purred, tilting his chin down to look at you. Even though you were shorter, it felt like you were towering over him in that moment, your domination a physical presence in the room.

"Y-you did?" Bob asked breathily, letting his eyes wander down, taking in your form again as though he couldn't help himself. Naturally, they rested on your chest, watching as your breasts strained against the fabric.

"Of course I did. Wanted to make sure my sweet boy would like it," you cooed. Bob visibly melted at your words, his tense muscles relaxing so much that even his eyes drifted half shut, looking up at you under his lashes.

"Really?" Bob asked, and his words were so earnest it made your heart skip a beat. "What about Walker?"

Your answering smile was a little less predatory and a little more playful.

"You haven't seen the back yet. The front's for you, baby," you said with a wink.

You took one of his hands in yours, lifting it from the counter and bringing it up to cup your breast. Audibly, Bob sucked in a harsh breath through his nose and let it slowly out of his mouth, ghosting over your bare skin. You shivered at the feeling, your nipples tightening almost painfully. Of course he noticed. As if it was unconscious, Bob's thumb rubbed circles over the peak of your nipple, biting his lower lip as he watched the motion as though as if he was hypnotizing himself.

When he brought his other hand up to your chest, you arched your back, pushing your breasts further into his grasp. You were practically leaning against him by then, the contained heat of his already thickening erection pressing against your thigh.

"I have an idea, Bob. One I think you're going to enjoy just as much as I will." Bob's eyes flicked up, trying to look you in the face, to give you his full attention, but you could feel how he wanted to look down, to stare further at your breasts.

"O-oh?" he murmured, eyes flitting down and back up again. You couldn't help but smirk. He was already wrapped around your finger.

"I need you to do something. Think you can be a good boy and help me?" The words had barely left your lips before he was nodding, mumbling the word 'yes.'

"What would you do for me, Robert?" you whispered, maintaining eye contact with him. His pupils were blown, his irises a thin ring of storm-dark blue.

"Anything," he answered breathlessly.

And in that moment, you knew one thing for certain - that you had Bob right where you wanted him.

You had barely taken your post behind the bedroom door before you heard the telltale sounds of John reentering your quarters. He was much louder than Bob, so you didn't need to strain to hear him call for you, grumpily muttering to himself when no one answered.

As John's footsteps grew nearer, it felt like your heart was going to burst its way through your ribcage. Every step caused it to beat faster, so much so that you could practically hear it in your ears. You gripped the manacles tightly, the cold metal biting into your hands just enough to ground you in the moment.

"You two better not have started the fun without me," John called out, chuckling to himself when he added, "Or I'll have to take you both over my knee."

His words struck like a bolt of lightning. You could see it so easily in your mind's eye: you trussed up, hands bound in cuffs behind your back, feet dangling as your body stretched over John's lap. There would be tears running down your face as you dutifully counted each time his hand came down on the heated skin of your ass, sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure in equal measure radiating through your body.

And you weren't the only one affected by John's words; Bob let out one solitary, plaintive whimper that hung in the air even after he bit the sound off abruptly. Instantly, all noise from the living room ceased.

John heard.

The ensuing steps were fast and heavy, his determined stomps crossing the room in record time. The bedroom door swung open, concealing you behind it. He took one step, then two before coming to a complete halt.

You didn't need to look to see what had snagged his attention, because you'd set the scene yourself. John always barged in, guns blazing, whether it was on the battlefield or into a room to try to catch his girlfriend and her other boyfriend shacking up without him. So you'd needed a distraction. Something so arresting that even his super soldier senses wouldn't help him detect you. And you had set the perfect trap.

Bob.

He was splayed out like an offering on your California king bed, wrists bound and tied to the headboard to keep him in place. The rope that held him matched the sheets that he squirmed on top of, both a deep, sumptuous purple that starkly contrasted his pale skin. And there was so much of it on display. Every inch of him was naked barring a few little accessories you'd adorned him with: a strip of cloth covering his eyes, a pitch black ball gag with breathing holes, and the pièce de résistance - a thick band of leather wrapped around the base of Bob's heavy cock which was flushed a dark pink, the tip weeping streaks of precum on his abs.

John made a sound like the wind was punched out of his lungs, his breathing audibly ragged as he took in the sight before him.

"Bobby," he breathed, his next inhale shaky. When he continued, his voice was strained, "Bob…why are you…?" John cut off his own question, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. "Where is she?"

The only answer Bob could give was unintelligible, his sounds muffled even through the air holes in his gag, lips and jaw too stretched to form words.

Keeping your hands behind your back to conceal the manacles, you stepped out from your hiding spot. "I think Bob's a little…tied up at the moment. Maybe I can help."

The John who turned to look at you was markedly different than the one who went to go fetch more popcorn. For one, his hair was rumpled, some strands sticking straight up like he'd absently rubbed his hand through it. A bright pink flush flooded his cheeks with color that dipped below the neckline of his flannel, no doubt running down to his shoulders and chest as well. Glassy blue eyes roamed over your body, disbelief and hunger warring for control on his face. As you'd heard, his breathing was labored, panting through his parted lips. If someone saw him in passing, he could almost play off his arousal as physical exertion, like he'd had a particularly invigorating workout. He could deny it all he wanted to, but there was no hiding the growing bulge in John's jeans. And that it was there before he turned around to face you.

A surge of vindication washed through you, transmuting into a powerful throb of desire between your legs. You could still picture it in your mind - John's hand tangled in Bob's hair, tugging hard. Bob's lips wrapped around your nipple, eyes locked in a heated stare with John's. How John's voice got so fucking deep when he called Bob a good boy. And the way Bob's eyes rolled back in his head at his words.

"Baby," John groaned out, stepping forward and gripping your hips nearly hard enough to bruise. He swayed like he wasn't sure if he wanted to press you to his chest or keep you at arm's length to admire you.

"You look…" He paused, eyes darting over you like he was trying to absorb every inch, to etch it into his memory. His thumbs rubbed circles into your sides, like he couldn't keep himself from stroking your skin through the fabric. Finally, John lifted his eyes to yours. "You look like a fucking dream."

"You don't look so bad yourself, handsome," you teased, standing up on tip toe to lightly press your lips to his bearded chin. John chased you, hunching over to slant his mouth over yours in what was immediately a passionate kiss.

There was no time wasted. John slipped an arm around your waist, the other tilting your chin to just the right angle to kiss you even deeper. You indulged him, letting him dominate you, invading your mouth like it belonged to him, his tongue swirling around yours.

He didn't notice anything was off until the cold metal cuff snapped closed around his wrist, its sharp clicking echoing in the quiet room. John's whole body went stiff, the muscles of his arm tensing around you. All you could do was wait, barely breathing as he pulled back, eyes fixed on the manacles dangling from his arm.

His thoughts were so clear you could practically see them scrolling across his eyes like ticker tape. The pieces were coming together: the lingerie and Bob as a distraction, the wine spill, the new sweater, tracing it all the way back to the small noise he'd heard in the kitchen that morning as he and Bob finalized their plans before you came down to breakfast.

This was the one variable in your plan that you just couldn't account for.

You'd wracked your brain all day, trying to come up with some way to both catch John off guard and be able to get both of his hands in the cuffs. You couldn't overpower him. You couldn't count on stealth. And tricking him was far too great a risk.

So you took the only option left - you let John choose.

When he finally looked back up at you, his eyes were narrowed. Thinking. Assessing. Calculating. You couldn't help but smile at how blown his pupils were. No matter what he chose, the three of you were in for a damn good night.

You closed the space between the two of you, and John wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer. He didn't hesitate for even a second. It was like a gut instinct that he couldn't help but follow. The cold metal of the cuffs brushed your back, the skin there only covered by a thin layer of lace. You couldn't stop the shiver that went through you at the feeling. From the look in John's eyes, he noticed it too.

Your lips parted, mouth open to speak, but John beat you to it.

"So," he murmured, his lips right next to your ear. Goosebumps rose on your arms as his hot breath ghosted over your skin. His voice was deep as sin, gravelly in that way he only got when exhausted or particularly worked up. "You gonna cuff my other wrist? Or you plannin' on cuffin' me to something…" He paused for effect, letting the weight of his words sink in. "…Or someone else?"

Pulling back enough to look him in the eye, you found yourself searching John's face for any hints of displeasure. There were none. His eyes were fixed on yours like he couldn't bear the thought of looking away. His lips were already reddening from your brief kiss, parted like he couldn't get in enough air, like the mere act of near you made breathing more difficult. This was the face of a thoroughly entranced man, ready and willing to submit to your pleasure.

"Wanted to give you a little bit of a fighting chance," you teased, smirking up at him.

Normally, John would quip back something smart like 'Is that why you ambushed me at the door?' or 'Sure seems like it, what with the industrial-grade handcuffs and all.' But his words caught you off guard.

"Never stand a chance against you when you've got your mind made up, darlin'," John said earnestly, his voice rumbling in his chest as he spoke. His free hand rubbed up and down your back, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the thin material there. "'Specially not with you dressed like that. Lookin' at me like that."

"What am I looking at you like?" you asked, trying to keep your voice smooth and seductive but coming off far more breathy than you intended.

"Like you're gonna eat me alive." The heat in his voice made your whole body pulse with pleasure, and the glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly what he was doing. Which is why he took a step back right as you surged forward to kiss him, sinking down to the floor on his knees in one graceful move, arms raised up before you as if in supplication. The act of submission took the very air out of your lungs.

"John," you breathed, chest rising and falling more rapidly.

"Please," he said, bowing his head reverently. "I'm ready for my punishment."

Taking a step forward, you rested your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair like you were either going to pet him or yank him up by force. You took in a deep, shaky breath, letting oxygen fill your lungs to compose yourself. When you breathed out, it was steady. A few more calm breaths, and you were ready.

"Please what?" you prompted, tightening your grip in his hair just a fraction. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to let him know you very well could.

"Please," John pleaded again, shuddering slightly as he finished his sentence, "Mistress."

The word thrummed through you - Mistress. It wasn't a title either of your boyfriends had ever used to describe you, though John had raised the idea before in passing. The closest they'd gotten was 'ma'am' - Bob's go-to honorific and one of John's favorite ways of teasing when you got bossy. It felt good, though. Fitting. Correct. There was a sense of power about it, the kind where you had a super soldier on his knees in front of you and a literal god naked and whimpering for your touch. Like you owned them.

Because you did.

"Stand up," you commanded, and John silently followed your orders, keeping his head down submissively. "Turn around. Hands behind your back."

You didn't snap the other cuff on John immediately; you took your time closing it, the sharp sound of each of the jagged metal teeth click into place slowly around his wrist. By the time the manacles were firmly on, John's breathing was audibly more shaky, the muscles in his upper back tensed and not from the positioning.

You let your hands roam, running up his flannel-clad back and back down his arms, feeling the roped muscles underneath his sleeves. When you reached his hands, you checked the security of the handcuffs, making sure they weren't tight enough to hurt or loose enough for escape.

"Color?"

"Green," John answered immediately. You hummed your approval, pleased at his easy obedience.

"What do you do if you can't speak?"

"One tap for no, two taps for yes," John faithfully recited. He was standing at parade rest like he was being commanded by a superior officer: legs shoulder-width apart, staring straight ahead with his chest puffed out and shoulders back, hands dutifully clasped.

Sliding your hands even further down, you cupped his ass, squeezing roughly. Even though he didn't always wear pants that showed it, John had such a nice ass. There was muscle there, sure. And great definition. But it was also plush, more plump than anywhere else on his body save for the little belly he got occasionally when overindulging, especially during the holidays. You'd said it before and you'd say it again: John Walker had a fat ass.

Letting go of him, you raised your hand, letting it come down in a hard smack that was, unfortunately, muffled by his jeans. It may not have hurt him, but the hitch in John's breath was beyond satisfying.

"Good job, soldier," you purred, pressing your torso against his back. You kept your hips back to avoid his cuffed hands, only letting the delicate lace of your chemise brush over his palms. Your hands, however, roamed of their own accord, one slipping under the hem of his shirt, his muscles twitching under your fingertips. The other danced dangerously close to the firm outline of his now fully-hard cock, just enough to tease by sliding up and down his thighs.

John held himself together admirably. But when you stepped back, fully removing yourself from him, John practically gasped for air, like he hadn't allowed himself to breathe as you touched him. Or perhaps he'd temporarily forgotten how to.

"Sit," you commanded, pointing to the low armchair you'd moved to the base of the bed. Normally, you'd find the chair draped in random clothes it'd gather between cleaning days - shirts you'd only worn for an hour or two, jackets you should have hung up, a bra you'd put aside to wear in the morning but forgot about. Now it was John draped across the chair, leaning fully against the backrest, his cuffed hands squished against the plush, grey fabric, his manspreading less like a expression of careless dominance and more like an invitation. One you willingly took up his offer on, climbing into his lap, stocking-clad knees resting on the seat of the chair on either side of his hips.

You hovered, not quite sitting down, your core mere inches away from the bulge in his jeans. He gazed up at you with wide eyes and parted lips, looking like a lost soul in a desert who'd just spotted a lush oasis that would be his salvation.

"Do you know why I have you tied up like this?"

John shook his head, not taking his eyes off yours. When you didn't continue, he seemingly realized his mistake and answered in a gravelly voice, "No, mistress."

Leaning down, you brushed your mouth along his jaw, his soft beard feeling exquisitely rough against your lips.

"You've been bad, haven't you?" you whispered, your breath ghosting over his skin. If his arms weren't covered by the sleeves of his flannel, you'd have been able to see the goosebumps that erupted there.

When John opened his mouth, face screwed up to protest, you silenced him with your hand, muffling his words.

"Don't lie to me," you hissed, nipping at his skin hard enough to make him jolt a little, his back now ramrod straight. "You thought you could cook up some little scheme and rope poor, sweet Bob into it without me noticing." When he hesitated for a second, not answering, you leaned down, biting the soft skin of John's throat just hard enough to sting but not hurt. You expected a little sound of pain in response, maybe him sucking air between his teeth or a gasp, but John let out a shaky moan under your palm.

"Didn't you?" you prompted, your voice syrupy sweet but venomous, like honey laced with poison.

The only answer he gave was a frustrated little noise. You smiled against his skin, huffing out a small laugh. He was trying to follow your rules but couldn't. Your hand was covering his mouth.

"You don't have to say the words this time, baby. Just nod or shake your head for me." Condescension dripped from your words, but John either didn't mind or he was already too far gone to notice.

When he nodded, you hummed your approval.

"Good boy," you purred, hand slipping from his lips to the nape of his neck, curling in the fine blond hair there. He inhaled sharply when you gripped hard, yanking his head back to look you in the eye. "And you know what good boys get?"

"No, mistress," John panted out. You kept a taut hold on him, staring down, eyes searching his face as if to discern the truth in his words. He was lying, but you couldn't fault him. At least not this time. From the desperate way his eyes bored into yours, he needed to hear you say it.

"Good boys get rewarded," you purred.

In one fluid motion, you lowered yourself, rocking down against the swell of him and capturing his lips in what quickly became a heated, sloppy kiss. The friction of his jeans against your clit felt magical, both you and John finally receiving the stimulation you'd both been craving.

The heat of the moment gripped you, and everything outside of your bodies fell away. You let yourself give in to the sensations - the way John panted against your lips in the brief moments your mouths parted like he'd forgotten to breathe, the smooth slide of his tongue against yours, the little throaty noises John would make when you sucked on his lower lip, and how you could feel John's jeans becoming wetter with each roll of your body against him. You could've done this for hours. Hell, you could have ridden him for days. But a high, keening whine from behind you pulled you back, slamming you into reality.

Unconsciously, John chased your lips when you broke the kiss, leaning back on your haunches to gain your bearings again. You chuckled, giving the man one last peck on the lips but not lingering, much to his chagrin.

"Mmm, you almost got me," you admitted, grinning at John. "That mouth almost made me forget you needed to be taught a lesson." You ran your finger over his lips and down his chin as he stared up at you with large, sad eyes, wordlessly pleading for you to continue.

Slipping out of his lap, you padded over to the head of the bed, tugging your chemise down from where it had ridden up. John let out an involuntary groan as he finally spotted the one part of your outfit he hadn't seen before - the see-through back panel. You grinned to yourself at his suffering.

Kneeling next to Bob on the lush purple bedspread, you wasted no time untying both the ballgag and blindfold, flinging them off the bed and onto the floor. Bob's eyes squinted immediately, even the dim light of the bedroom blinding to his newly freed senses. He opened his mouth, stretching his jaw until it audibly popped. You couldn't help but wince in sympathy, moving to gently massage the muscles right under his ears, your hands helping to ease the ache there.

"You doing okay, baby?" you asked soothingly, an apologetic lilt to your tone.

"Yeah," Bob whispered, voice groggy until he cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am," he corrected, his voice at its regular volume.

You smoothed some of his hair off his forehead before reaching to inspect his bound wrists, checking for any redness and making sure his arms still had full circulation. You'd been careful when tying him up, but Bob wasn't exactly the type to complain about his own comfort.

"I'm sorry I took so long, sugar," you cooed down at him, stroking his hair. Bob closed his eyes, soaking in the affection. "Didn't mean to tease you that hard."

"S'okay," he murmured, turning his head and pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your wrist.

"My sweet boy," you whispered, peppering kisses all over his face until Bob's muscles fully relaxed, his body sinking deeper into the comforter. "You okay to continue? Need to take a break? Change position?"

Bob shook his head, his deep blue eyes fluttering open. "'M good. I feel good."

"Yeah?" you murmured, pressing your lips to his jaw, lingering longer there, your kisses becoming more heated.

"Yeah," Bob affirmed, voice noticeably huskier than before. "Green. Very…very green."

"Mmm," you hummed, starting to run your hand down his torso. Your fingertips traced the sharp line of his collar bone from his shoulder to the center of his chest before trailing down. His cock, which had flagged a little bit before you sat down on the bed, was at full attention again. It twitched as your hand slid further down his body, between the pectoral muscles, going from just one finger to the whole of your palm easing down his stomach, still sticky with precum.

Bob didn't fight the full throated moan that ripped out of him when you wrapped your hand around his length, slowly stroking him from the base all the way up to his leaking tip. Just the weight and heat of him in your hand was enough to make your mouth water. You had to force yourself to let go of him, biting your lip to keep from grinning at Bob's whimper of protest.

"Sorry, baby," you said almost mockingly, not even a trace of remorse in your voice.

Turning to face him, you brought your hand up to your face, licking off a droplet of precum. Bob's answering whine was so delicious that you couldn't fight down the cruel smile that tugged at your lips.

"Do you know why you're here?" you asked Bob, gesturing at the rope that held him captive.

Bob nodded, biting at his already reddened lips.

"Tell me."

For a split second, his eyes darted to the end of the bed, to the other man quietly observing you. But you put a stop to that, snapping your fingers to draw his attention back.

"Eyes on me, baby. Now…" You let your words trail off just as you started to run your hand over his chest again, fingertips barely grazing his skin. His nipples hardened under your touch, and you drew lazy circles around them. "Tell me why I have you here like this."

"I…" Bob hesitated, but when you whipped your head to look at him, he quickly choked out an answer. "I was bad. I should have told you."

Satisfied that he'd continue to answer, you refocused your attention on Bob's nipples. They were small and dusky pink with a little ring of hair growing right around them. And you knew from experience just how sensitive they were.

"Keep going," you prompted. "Told me what?"

"I-I should have told you about John's plan," he admitted.

"Bobby, don't you dare…" John started to warn, but another snap of your fingers, and he went silent. Despite the grumpy look he shot you, John's eyes were alight.

"Uh uh uh. No more talking from you," you admonished, enjoying the way John squirmed under your glare. "Keep going, sweetheart," you encouraged Bob. You let your thumb swirl around the pebbled skin of Bob's nipple, redirecting his attention. He inhaled sharply through his nose but kept going.

"He…" Bob's eyes twitched like he wanted to look back at John but forced himself not to. You felt a small swell of both pride and pleasure in him following your orders. "He wanted to trick you. To tie you up and…" His words trailed off, looking like he was working himself up to finish his sentence. "Have…his way…with you. 'M sorry."

"That's okay, sweetheart. I can forgive you," you cooed, smiling down at him. God, you loved the way he looked up at you, big blue eyes so full of love, staring at you like you were his very salvation. "And, because you were honest with me and helped me with my plan, I have a reward for you. You want your reward, puppy?"

Bob nodded furiously. "Yes! Yes, please. Please, mistress," he pleaded, surging up as much as he could before you lightly pushed him back down on the bed. Hearing that honorific from Bob's lips - mistress - was almost more than you could bear. Your pussy clenched, clit throbbing in arousal. Fortunately, relief was in sight.

Reaching under his pillow, you pulled out a small piece of plastic. It was about an inch long, white, and perfectly rectangular. Bob's eyebrows furrowed in confusion when you held it in front of him. He didn't voice his question, just looked up at you for answers. You pressed your thumb on the indented area, and the loud, metallic click the object made seemed to echo in the room. Instead of answering his question, Bob looked even more perplexed as you pressed the clicker into his hand.

"Click it for me," you ordered. There was a moment of hesitation before Bob obeyed, pushing down on the metal part of the clicker. The sound was less jarring this time, but no more enlightening than before.

You couldn't help but smirk. "Looks like it's not just for training dogs," you teased. "Then again, you are my good little puppy." You didn't think it was possible for Bob's face to turn even more pink than it already was, but the blush that dusted his cheeks was almost scarlet.

You didn't mean to say the words "You're so pretty" out loud, but, judging by how Bob turned his head to the side, trying to bashfully duck away from your gaze, you must have. Grabbing his chin, you pulled his head back up to endure your undivided attention, letting your eyes roam over him.

God, he was indeed beautiful. You could catalog everything you loved about his face: the shallow wrinkle on his forehead and cute little lines under those expressive eyes, the strong and mostly straight nose that ended in a slightly bulbous tip that was perfect for planting a kiss on, the five o'clock shadow that always haunted his skin no matter how closely he shaved, his thin but oh-so-soft lips that knew how to kiss you breathless and drive you mad in turn, all the way to the strong jut of his jaw and the delicious protrusion of his Adam's apple. And his eyes. Oh, they were as deep and dark as the ocean and sometimes just as stormy. But not now. Now they gazed up at you with a look of sheer reverence, waiting for your next command, ready and willing to follow your every whim like it was the gospel, like he was your most faithful disciple.

And you kissed him. Despite the heat of the evening's proceedings, it started slow, a simple pass of lips coming together and separating in turn over and over again. When you ran your tongue across the seam of his lips, they parted smoothly, like he hadn't even made the conscious decision. It was just that natural. And, when you kissed him, you tasted him, sliding your tongue along his as if sampling its delicacies. It grew in intensity naturally, building and building until Bob was panting against your lips, barely able to bite back the little sounds at the back of his throat that threatened to spill out and into your mouth. You could feel him trying to stay still, to be good for you, body going so stiff Bob was practically shaking from the tension. When you finally broke the kiss, you rested your forehead on Bob's, both of you fighting to catch your breath.

"Fuck," you muttered, not missing the way Bob's lips turned up at the edges in a pleased smile. "You almost distracted me too, baby."

"'M sorry," Bob breathed. He was lying, but you couldn't fault him for it this time. In Bob's perfect world, you'd be on top of him right now, kissing him until his lungs felt near to bursting, his throbbing erection buried deep inside of you as you ground down against him. As wet as that thought made you, he still needed to be punished. Bob wouldn't get your pussy until he earned it.

Sitting back up, you pushed the hair that had fallen down back out of your face. "Still have that clicker, baby?"

"Yes, mistress," Bob answered.

"What's the code for when you can't speak?"

Bob frowned slightly, a little confused. But he answered anyway, his words lilting up at the end as if he wanted to turn them into a question but he didn't quite dare to ask. "One tap for no, two for yes."

"We need to use a slightly different one this time," you murmured, brushing the hair back out of his face. "One click is pause. And two clicks is for stop. Do you understand?"

"One click for pause, two clicks for stop," Bob repeated, making the appropriate number of clicks for each part of the sentence.

You spared a glance over your shoulder at John. Bob may not have pieced together what his reward was, but John sure as hell did. His eyes burned into you hot enough that you were momentarily grateful that Bob was the one with heat vision. You could see his chest rise and fall just a little too quickly under his shirt, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth to calm himself. His lips were a dark, lush pink, like he'd been biting at them, fighting to keep silent. You smirked back at him. That was the face of a man who knew exactly what he was missing out on.

You looked back down at Bob, who was still looking up at you with wide, searching eyes, his forehead furrowed, eyebrows adorably pushed up in the middle.

"You hungry, puppy?" you cooed down at him, grinning sharply when his look of confusion only grew.

Shifting your weight, you swung your leg over Bob to straddle his chest. In a second, it was like a light bulb had flickered on in Bob's head.

"Oh my God," he practically moaned, voice shaky. He'd done a good job not speaking unless asked a question this whole time, but it was like any other thought had left his head. "Please, baby. Fuck, I need this. Need you. Need to taste you. Please." Bob almost dropped the clicker, but you pressed it back into his hand before moving to hover over his face, knees on either side of his head on the pillows. Your thighs were already starting to ache, but you pushed the pain into the back of your mind.

"Remember, one click for pause and two clicks for stop," you purred down at Bob, adjusting quickly when he craned his neck, desperate to taste you. He was definitely hungry.

You didn't make him repeat it back this time. This time, you were merciful. You lowered your dripping pussy onto his awaiting tongue, his resulting moan vibrating against your clit. Your hands shot out, grasping the headboard to help hold yourself up. After all, you didn't want to crush his pretty little face.

Bob was everywhere all at once, licking and sucking every inch of skin he could reach, the most obscene sounds filling the room. He ran his tongue up your slit and back down again, stretching his neck for a better angle.

"Tongue flat, baby," you ordered, letting out a hum of cruel amusement when he immediately obeyed. You rocked your hips, grinding your clit into his tongue, moaning at the delicious, wet friction.

Bob's hands twitched, uselessly trying to grab for you. Normally, Bob helped when you rode his face. Sometime around the middle, your legs always seemed to turn to jelly. So Bob was always there to help, effortlessly holding you up by your hips, letting you control the pace and positioning as you got off on his mouth. But this time, you'd have to do it all alone. Hopefully, the Sentry serum gave him an increased lung capacity.

You rode his face, using his mouth however you wanted it. After grinding your clit on his tongue, you grabbed Bob's head, fingers clutching his scalp, and angled him further down. His tongue lapped at your entrance, happily drinking you straight from the source.

"Fuck me with your tongue, baby," you commanded, and Bob wasted no time obeying. He thrust his tongue inside of you, both of you moaning in tandem. Yours was with your head thrown back, grinding down even harder on his face, clenching your walls around him. His was muffled inside of you but still so loud in the mostly quiet room filled only with your and John's heavy breathing. You canted your hips forward, letting his nose nudge your clit with each subsequent grind.

It quickly became harder and harder to hold yourself up. Where you'd been hovering, barely touching Bob's face, you were now firmly seated on him. Not that he minded. Bob was locked in, his eyes closed in focus, that little line forming between his eyebrows as he furrowed them in concentration.

"Bob, baby," you murmured down at him, stroking his hair idly. "Look at me, sweet boy. Wanna see those eyes."

His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyelids, his glassy gaze and wide pupils telling you everything you needed to know.

"Aww, is the little puppy pussydrunk already?" you cooed, an edge of mockery in your tone. Bob just whined against you in answer, and you could feel the bed shift as his hips bucked into the air, fruitlessly searching for any friction to soothe his aching cock.

"You're doing so good," you moaned, gripping his hair even harder as you angled your hips to let Bob's tongue run along your slit from your entrance all the way to your clit, which he happily took in his mouth. "Fuck," you swore, biting your lower lip as you rocked against Bob's mouth. "Suck that clit, baby. You're making me feel so fucking good. Gonna cum on that pretty little face."

There was a choked sound from the end of the bed, and you looked back over your shoulder at John. This was definitely punishment for him. He couldn't stop fidgeting in his seat, prick so eager for friction that even the uncomfortable rub of the metal teeth on his zipper provided a kind of sharp, painful relief. Gone were the deep breaths in through the nose and out through his mouth; John was panting, lips parted enticingly. He was staring fixated at what he could see of your cunt smearing Bob's face with your arousal.

"Oh, looks like Johnny's liking the show, puppy," you teased, exaggerating the next roll of your hips to pull a groan out of John's mouth. He didn't disappoint. And neither did Bob who answered your question with a quivering moan of his own that vibrated through you pleasantly.

"You want some, baby?" you taunted John. He nodded immediately, leaning forward in the armchair hopefully. "You want to eat this pretty pussy, sugar?"

"Please," John practically moaned. All pretense of dominance was long gone from the man. He'd already tried tugging on the restraints, finding them much sturdier than he'd at first thought. He'd practically melted, finding something strangely erotic about feeling weak and helpless. Like he was completely at your mercy to do with as you pleased. And he desperately wanted to be used.

"You hear that, Bob? John wants a turn," you said innocently, stroking Bob's hair as if to calm him while your words were doing anything but. "I should let him have a taste. It's only fair."

Before you could even pantomime starting to lift a leg to pull yourself off of him, a growl ripped its way out of Bob's throat. You had to bite your lip to keep from whimpering at the look of sheer, unmitigated possessiveness in his eyes as your boyfriend glared up at you. The headboard creaked violently as Bob strained against his restraints. He wasn't using his full strength, but, judging by the flash of gold in his eyes, Bob definitely would break something if you tried to climb off him. When you stayed quiet, he made another low, dangerous sound, letting his teeth lightly scrape against your clit. You tried to hold back your gasp but to no avail. Bob hummed in pleasure when you bucked your hips, lathing that little bundle of nerves with his tongue before sliding his teeth over it again.

"Fuck! Bob, oh my God!" you cried out, clenching your fists tighter in Bob's hair, your teasing instantly forgotten.

Your knees went weak, and you found yourself sinking down completely on his face, unable to hold yourself up. If you weren't so distracted riding his mouth, you would have noticed that the gold didn't disappear from his eyes, that it almost felt like there were hands holding onto your thighs, ones that helped you rut harder against his face. His mouth was everywhere, lapping and slurping at your folds, fucking his tongue into you, and mouthing his lips over your sensitive clit, practically moaning when you thrust down, hips stuttering against him.

Soon enough, you were shaking, stomach muscles twitching, thighs tightening around Bob's head. He didn't seem to mind, making a happy noise in the back of his throat as he panted against your slick skin. Focusing on your nub, Bob swirled his tongue around it before flattening, letting you lewdly hump his face, dragging your clit over the flexing muscle. When you started whimpering, making desperate little noises that were practically begging him for release, he increased the suction on that little bundle of nerves, suckling hard enough to make you see white spots behind your closed eyelids. Each flex of his jaw, each swallow coincided with each roll of your hips, the rhythm of it combined with the pleasure-pain of pressure driving you closer and closer to the edge.

With one last rut of your hips and a wail, your whole body went rigid as your release slammed into you, leaving you gasping and shaking. Bob worked you through it, still licking every inch of skin he could get his mouth on but slowing down. He only let up once you were whining, trying to pull yourself off of him to collapse on the bed. Reluctantly, Bob let you go, and you flopped down next to him, gasping for breath like you'd run an Olympic marathon.

You only gave yourself to the count of five before you forced yourself to sit up, carefully pulling the rope on the quick-release knots holding Bob's wrists in place. As soon as the purple ropes were gone, you went to take his hands to inspect them, but you didn't have a chance to. The next thing you knew, you were on your back, head now at the foot of the bed, legs thrown haphazardly over Bob's shoulders as he buried his face back between them, eagerly lapping at your sensitive cunt.

"Bob!" you cried out, once again grasping honeyed-brown locks in your hands. He was relentless. And he was everywhere, tonguing your folds like he was desperate to wring every last ounce of pleasure out of you. Bob rutted his hips against the bed in time with the movements of his tongue, your ecstasy turning into his own as he whined and panted against you.

You almost gave in. You almost let him manhandle you to another orgasm. But, when you caught John's eye and saw the warring desires written plainly on his face - the desire to please you versus the desire to pleasure you - you came back to your senses.

"Bob," you said again, mustering enough authority in your tone to cause the man between your legs to pause, looking up at you. He was a mess - hair clutched between your fingers, lower face soaked with your juices, eyes a swirl of black, blue, and flecks of gold.

"Bob…no, baby. You gotta let me up," you scolded. It felt a bit ridiculous, what with your legs in the air and a literal god holding you down, but you pushed through the feeling.

Bob let out a whine of complaint, opening his mouth to protest. You fixed him with your best schoolteacher glare, and he visibly withered.

"You got your treat, puppy. C'mere," you urged. Tugging on his hair to pull him closer to you, Bob allowed your legs to drop down, crawling up between them.

Not all of him had deflated when you glowered at him. His hips bucked, sliding his hard length along your slick folds. You gasped when the swollen head nudged your abused clit, pulling him down into a blistering kiss. The taste of you was sharp and sweet on his lips, drawing a moan out of you that Bob willingly drank from your mouth.

When you finally drew back, Bob moved down, mouthing at your neck, tongue out to taste your skin. You allowed him this much, closing your eyes and letting your hand idly scratch his scalp until he reached the base of your neck, sucking a possessive mark into your skin.

"That's enough, sweetheart," you murmured to him. This time, when you tried to sit up, Bob got the hint, leaning back to sit on his knees, watching you for instruction.

"There's my good boy," you purred, stroking his cheek with the back of your hand. Bob closed his eyes, leaning into your fleeting touch. That was until you pulled something out of a clever little pocket in the chemise, pressing it into his hands - a key. His eyes fluttered open, looking from the key in his hands to John in the armchair and back to you. "That's right, baby. Go unlock those handcuffs for me."

After one more brief kiss, Bob quietly obeyed, getting off the bed and padding his way over to the grey armchair. You took this time to pull yourself to the top of the bed, sitting up against the headboard, watching your two favorite boys.

Bob was gentle as he unlocked the manacles from John's wrists. Without your prompting, he knelt down and took John's hands in his, checking them for any signs of redness or abrasion the same way you'd meant to do with Bob before he abruptly tackled you. His touch was soft, running the pads of his thumbs over the delicate skin of John's wrists.

"You okay?" Bob asked quietly in that low, breathy voice of his, looking up into John's eyes. Maybe you were just seeing what you wanted to see, but it certainly seemed like both men's eyes were softer when they looked at each other. It wasn't one of the myriad ways you'd seen them looking at you, but it was…something.

"Yeah," John answered, his voice just as soft as Bob's and even more breathless.

"Can you…feel everything? No numbness?" Bob pressed.

A wry smile curled John's lips. "I'm good, Bobby. I promise. Scout's honor."

You cleared your throat, and both men pulled their hands away from each other like they were caught doing something they weren't supposed to. The smile you gave them was both condescending and self-satisfied. You couldn't help yourself.

"Good boys," you commended. Both of them seemed to sit up straighter at your words, preening under your watchful gaze. You let your eyes slowly slide down and then back up their bodies, smirking. "I think someone's a little overdressed. Bob, sugar?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Help him take those clothes off."

He swallowed hard enough that John probably heard it, his Adam's apple bobbing and making your mouth water with the urge to lick his throat. You wet your lips instead, and both pairs of blue eyes shot down automatically, watching the brief flash of tongue. When Bob looked back up and met your eyes, his widened, a flash of panic there when he realized he didn't verbally answer you.

"Y-yes, ma'am. Mistress? Yes, mistress." Bob winced, cringing at his own words. "Sorry, mistress. I just got sidetracked. I'll-"

"It's okay, baby," you reassured him, his shoulders relaxing with a small sigh of relief at your words. You crossed your legs in front of you on the bed, exaggerating the movement to make sure they caught a glimpse of your nakedness under the lingerie. "I'm flattered you find me so…distracting."

"Always," Bob breathed, eyes taking you in like he was trying to burn the sight of you into his retinas. And John wasn't any better. Even though he couldn't see under the chemise, he stared at your crossed legs like he was mentally willing them to part for him.

"I won't hold it against you, I promise," you said with a teasing smile that had Bob blushing. You gestured at John. "Now, get to it, or I might have to change my mind. And go slow." You gestured at the front of John's flannel. "Unbutton it. Take your time."

Bob's fingers fumbled on John's shirt. You couldn't tell if the man was having a kind of stage fright, being put on the spot and watched, or if the proximity to the other man and the intimacy of the act was affecting him.

After he'd managed to undo a few, you directed John to help. Instead of taking over for Bob, John placed his hands on top of the brunet's, coaxing his fingers to slip the buttons through the holes of his flannel, his shirt falling more and more open, exposing a thin undershirt beneath it. When it was fully undone, Bob pushed the fabric off John's shoulders and down his arms, fingers running over the newly bared skin.

The undershirt was next, John raising his arms and letting Bob slowly pull it up his torso and over his head, the dangling silver dogtags on John's neck brushing the skin of Bob's chest. The metal had been pressed against John's chest the entire night, so there was no way it was colder. But, when they touched Bob, he'd shivered like they were freezing anyway.

The jeans were next. John stood up to help unbutton them, but one word from you kept Bob kneeling. Bob looked up at the man hovering over him. John's breathing stuttered for a second, and you knew why. You'd seen those storm-blue eyes gazing up at you from between your thighs more times that you could count, and the sight never failed to send a rush of heat straight between your legs, stealing the air from your lungs. If the stunned look on John's face was any indication, he felt the same.

The belt came off easily enough. Even though you'd never seen Bob wear one, he certainly knew the easiest way to remove one, not even struggling with the belt buckle that you yourself had fumbled with before. He placed it on the armchair before continuing.

Bob's fingers weren't shaking anymore as he unbuttoned the fly on John's jeans, keeping eye contact the whole time. John stood transfixed, pink lips parted in silent awe. The teeth of John's zipper sounded loud in the quiet of the room, each one making a little metallic noise that echoed in your ears.

Finally, when the pants were unfastened, Bob rested his hands on John's hips, thumbs going through the belt loops. When John nodded, barely jerking his head down then up again, Bob began pulling, coaxing the jeans down his legs. His hands could have stopped around mid-thigh and let gravity take over, but Bob was nothing if not diligent. He traced John's legs all the way down, leaving the jeans in a pile around the other man's feet.

Looking back up, Bob was face to face with the obvious tent in John's boxer briefs. He was so close, his breath puffed warm air over the erection, and John was far from unaffected by his proximity.

"Jesus Christ, Bobby," he muttered under his breath just loud enough for you to hear it. Bob tried to play innocent, his big eyes opening wider, becoming even more round like he had no idea what he was doing, but the smirk tugging on the corners of his lips gave it away.

Soon, Bob's hands were on the waist of John's boxer briefs, fingers slipping under the elastic band, rubbing against the skin there. John was biting his lip, his breathing kept slow and steady with visible effort. Bob glanced at you for permission, and you wasted no time granting it with a sharp nod of your head. He took his time, even more so than with the jeans, skimming his palms over the bare skin he revealed inch by inch.

By the time John stood fully naked at the end of the bed, both men were breathing hard and painfully erect. John's cockhead was almost purple, a few sparse droplets of precum glistening on his glans. If Bob quickly looked away and licked his lips, John didn't comment on it.

A soft, wet schlick drew both of their attention to you. While they were distracted with each other, you'd occupied yourself, two fingers slowly circling your clit, teasing yourself. Your hand dipped, sliding through your slick folds, wetting your fingers before bringing them back, the touch tantalizingly light. Seeing their attention back on you, you spread your legs further, giving them both a better view.

"Want a taste?" you purred at John, a smug smile on your lips at his dazed expression.

"Please," he said, the word no more than a breathy whisper. It was as though he didn't know where to look, his eyes flickering between your face and your soaked core.

You let your hand slip down, skimming your fingertips over your slit, before slowly pressing two fingers inside. Watching John, you pumped them in and out of you, the sounds of your arousal quickly filling the bedroom. Only a single sigh of pleasure spilled out of you as you curled your fingers, touching that spongy spot inside of you that sent tendrils of sensation through your body.

Stopping abruptly, you removed your fingers, holding them up in front of you, glistening in the dim light with your slick. John's stare bore into you. There was a tension in him, not unlike a string on a violin, one that had been overly-tightened and was ready to snap given the slightest opportunity.

"Bob," you called. The brunet, who'd been kneeling patiently on the floor, watching the scene play out, snapped his head toward you, blinking in obvious surprise.

"Y-yes, ma'am?" he asked, voice tentative.

"C'mere." You quirked your wet fingers at him, and he rushed to crawl to you on the bed. Extending your hand in front of him, you only spoke one word. "Suck."

And Bob happily obeyed. He opened his mouth, letting you thrust your fingers in, where he sucked on them happily. Bob tried to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at you, but he couldn't help himself. His oral fixation was too strong and having your fingers in his mouth was too soothing.

Once you were satisfied he'd cleaned them thoroughly, you removed your fingers from Bob's mouth with a wet pop. Those deep blue eyes fluttered open, watching you with a half-lidded gaze. It took everything in you to not pull him into another kiss when he gave you that sweet, dopey smile that you only ever saw when he was fucked out or drunk off your pussy.

Turning your attention back to John, it took everything in you again but this time to not laugh at his expression. The man looked devastated. Those sad eyes that drew you to him originally were in full force now as he gazed at you. It was the face of a man who had accepted his punishment but just couldn't fight down his disappointment. He didn't pout. He didn't scowl. He didn't even look put out. He just looked resigned to his punishment.

"Don't worry, baby. You'll still get a taste. Come here, handsome boy," you cooed at him.

You'd teased John more than once that he was the human equivalent of a Golden Retriever, and the way his face lit up in excitement like you were holding his favorite toy didn't help his case. If he had a tail, John would definitely be wagging it. He crawled over to you on the opposite side from Bob, sitting back on his heels, mirroring the other man. It was like your legs had their very own book ends.

On the outside, you looked cool and collected, amusement dancing on your lips. But on the inside, your heart was a war drum pounding against your ribcage, like you were leading an army into battle. Your stomach fluttered with nerves, but you steeled yourself. Doubts flooded your mind, but you pushed them aside.

It was like a mission. A high-stakes mission with potential long-lasting consequences, but you'd done plenty of those before and come out the other side. And if you were wrong? So what? Sure, it'd be awkward, maybe even a little painful. But these two idiots would never take the dive if you left them to their own devices. They'd been skirting around their attraction for months. It was time for you to give them that final little push.

"You know…" you started, drawing out the words in an almost sing-song voice. John frowned immediately. Sometimes you thought he might just have some precognition, the way he could sense trouble on the horizon. Especially if that trouble came from you. "I don't think you deserve to have some straight from the source."

John opened his mouth to plead his case, a rebuttal already fully formed and ready to go in his mind. But you cut him off before he could gather steam.

"But you can have a taste secondhand."

You waved your hand at Bob, the gesture casual, almost flippant even though your words were anything but.

Bob understood first. His mouth fell open, kiss-swollen lips parting with a soft noise of surprise. He went pale beneath the flush on his skin, his eyes widening as he watched you, as if waiting for confirmation that he heard you correctly. You gave him one firm nod, and he muttered the words 'holy shit,' under his breath.

John took a minute. He looked down at your hand, as if expecting you to touch yourself again so he could suck the juices off your fingers the way Bob had, but his expression was pure puzzlement when you pointed instead. His eyes followed, turning to look at whatever you were gesturing to. When his gaze met Bob's, it was still one of confusion. That is until Bob licked his lips.

It was an instinct, a nervous habit he did in stressful situations. His mouth would go dry and so would his lips. Bob normally remedied this by carrying around lip balm everywhere he went - putting one in each of his hoodies and stashing some in the common areas he used the most. But this time, he didn't even think about it. He just did. And John's eyes followed his tongue like they were magnetized to it.

When he looked back up, Bob was watching him closely, trying to judge his reaction. And react, he did.

It was like a light bulb lit up in his mind - a bright, neon one with a lurid image on it, like something you'd find in a trashy strip club in the 80s. His eyes went wide as saucers, mouth falling open in surprise. Even though he was turned to the side, you could see those long, blond lashes fluttering as he blinked rapidly like his brain was recalibrating.

When he turned to you, John's face was a swirl of emotions - shock, shame, and stubbornness chief among them. You laid your hand on his forearm, and, when he didn't rebuff you, you took his hand in yours.

"Hey, we don't have to do anything anyone doesn't want," you told him gently, dropping character entirely. "We can go back to what we were doing. Or we can stop entirely. Or anything in between."

You glanced over at Bob, only to find him watching John closely, an unreadable look on his face. You smiled, catching his attention and tentatively offering your other hand to him, which Bob accepted with a gentle squeeze.

"If I went too far or this is too much, I'm sorry," you said earnestly, eyes flitting back and forth between your boyfriends. "It just seems like you two have been dancing around each other for months. That maybe you needed a little push."

"We could have just talked about it," Bob said wryly, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand, giving you a smug little smirk when you had the grace to look bashful.

"You and I could have talked about it, sure," you admitted, turning to look at John. "But something tells me you would have just kept running forever."

John's answering smile had an edge of self-deprecation. "You're probably right about that," he admitted with a sigh.

"I'm right about most things," you teased, and John's smile turned more genuine.

"Dunno if I'd go that far," he said with a chuckle. Leaning in, you kissed his cheek, his stubble grazing your skin not-unpleasantly. Turning his head, John captured your lips in a brief but oh-so-sweet embrace. Bob watched you both, his gaze so heavy it felt like it had physical weight. It was like earlier when he caught sight of you in your lingerie, but this time, Bob wasn't watching just you.

"You sure you're okay with this?" John asked as he pulled back, his breath ghosting over your lips.

"You're asking me if I want my boyfriends to kiss?" At John's answering nod, you couldn't help but let out a sharp bark of a laugh. "Of fucking course I do. I didn't even consider it as a possibility until recently. But the better question is - do you?"

John's eyes flickered past you, looking at Bob, and they darted away just as quickly. It was like he wasn't able to hold Bob's intense gaze for long. At the same time, he couldn't quite keep his eyes away. They kept glancing over, catching little glimpses of Bob's stare as though he was drawn in by those storm-dark eyes.

"I meant it when I said you don't have to if you don't want to," you said softly, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb with little back and forth motions. "And it isn't a 'now or never' situation either. We can always talk about this later."

"I," John started, licking his lower lip nervously. "I do." He finally met Bob's eyes. This time, he was steady, not breaking eye contact. "I'd like to."

"Bob, are you -" you started, but Bob already sat up, getting on his hands and knees and pressing his lips to John's.

Suddenly, it was like the air was sucked out of the room. Your brain seemed to stop functioning properly, completely freeze-framing on the sight right in front of you, one you had imagined so many times but never thought would leave the confines of your mind.

John's eyes closed the second their lips touched, his blond lashes fluttering against his skin. His face went slack, like all the anxiety, all his thoughts slipped out of his head, smoothing the lines on his forehead and in the corners of his eyes. His hand hovered nervously before tentatively placing it on Bob's forearm, grip gradually tightening until there were little white crescents in Bob's skin there.

Even though Bob had his head angled away from you, the smile that curled his lips was unmistakable. Balancing on one hand, he lifted the other to cup John's cheek before slipping it down to John's chin, using that leverage to hold the other man back when he tried to follow Bob's mouth when their lips parted. When John made a sound of protest, Bob smiled even more, moving back in and placing a series of kisses on John's lips that kept the other man wanting more. The sound of their lips meeting and parting filled the room with soft, wet smacking noises.

It didn't take long for John to get bolder, hand slipping up to the nape of Bob's neck, trying to hold Bob closer to deepen the kiss. Bob just nipped at John's lower lip, leaning back slightly and making John chase his mouth until their positions had switched with John practically on his hands and knees instead of Bob. But just when it seemed there was no farther back for Bob to move and John opened his mouth to lick at the seam of Bob's lips, the brunet put his hand on John's shoulder, gently holding him back.

When John's eyes opened, he looked almost dazed. "Bob. Bobby," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

"Please what?" Bob teased, lightly shoving John back off of where he was resting on his knees and making him sit directly on the bed. He wasn't pushing John away, however. Bob followed him down, climbing onto his lap.

John's hands fell to Bob's hips automatically, squeezing his flesh with a throaty groan. Just the proximity was enough to take John's breath away, the blond breathing harder, pink dusting his cheeks and his kiss-stained lips. His eyes were everywhere, taking Bob in - the little smirk, the way his eyes swirled with gold-flecked heat, and, most pressingly, the still-hard cock that stood proudly between Bob's legs, hovering mere inches away from John's own throbbing length.

"Please kiss me," John pleaded quietly, not bothering to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Bob obliged. He surged forward, capturing John's mouth hard enough that you could swear you heard their teeth click. Bob pressed his body firmly against John's, swallowing the other man's shaky moan. Their mouths only parted enough for you to see the flash of their tongues sliding against each other. John's hands moved farther back, grasping the other man's ass and pulling him even closer. When Bob started moving, slowly grinding his hips down against John's, your hand had slipped under your chemise, teasing yourself with featherlight touches against your still-sensitive clit.

By the time they broke apart, both were out of breath. Bob rested his forehead against John's, panting against his lips. John's eyes never left Bob's face, watching him with a look that was dangerously close to awe.

"Fuck," Bob breathed, biting his lip. "I've wanted to do that for months."

"Why didn't you?" John asked, his ragged voice thrumming through you, your clit pulsing under your own touch at the naked desire there.

Bob laughed, the sound joyous and carefree in the way he only ever seemed to be with you. And now with John. He laid a small kiss on the tip of John's nose, the same affectionate way he did with you. The sight could have made you jealous. Maybe it should have. But it only made your heart feel as warm as your body already was.

"Honestly thought you were straight," Bob admitted with a grin. "That kiss says otherwise."

"I'm straight-ish," John professed with a shrug. "Not exactly my first rodeo, so to speak."

You raised your eyebrows. This was news to you.

Bob, however, didn't look particularly surprised.

"Mmm, yeah, you don't kiss like I'm your first guy." Even from your angle, you could see that mischievous light in Bob's eyes that spelled nothing but the most delicious kind of trouble. It was the same look he got the day he spontaneously went down on you in the control room, making you cum mere seconds before the rest of the team walked in. The same one he had on the date where you made the mistake of wearing a low cut top and Bob ended up railing you against the wall of your favorite bookstore's bathroom. But this time? It was focused on John.

"Tell me about it," Bob murmured, leaning down to run his tongue along the shell of John's ear, making the other man shiver beneath him. "You fool around with a friend in high school?"

"Not 'friend.' 'Friends'plural; more than one," John admitted almost sheepishly. Bob rolled his hips, a little reward for the truth. He smirked when John moaned.

"What, were you fucking the football team?" Bob teased, biting and tugging at John's earlobe.

John let out a shaky laugh. "No. Not…not exactly. We'd go get drunk in the woods on the weekends sometimes. Just guys tailgating, drinking beer, and shooting the shit. Eventually, we'd start talking about girls, and one of the guys'd pop a stiffy. And, you know, no one around, so we'd…" John shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah."

"Give each other a hand?" Bob teased.

"Or…a mouth," he said with a coy smile on his face.

"Jesus," you said, voice practically a moan. Both men turned to look at you, one with a questioning look on his face, the other with a knowing smirk.

"Looks like we're not the only ones enjoying ourselves," Bob said, eyes fixed on the hand between your stocking-clad legs. Wordlessly, you spread them farther apart, giving your boyfriends a better view of your dripping pussy. In an almost Pavlovian response, both John and Bob licked their lips. It would be funny if it wasn't so fucking hot.

"You enjoy the taste you got, baby?" you asked John, making a show of swirling your finger around your sensitive nub.

"Yes," John breathed. Before you could say anything, he corrected himself. "Yes, mistress."

"Good boy," you purred, dipping your fingers through your slick folds teasingly before bringing them back up, continuing the circles around your clit. "Bob, I think he deserves a little reward for being so good. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bob said maybe a touch too enthusiastically. With two flicks of the wrist, he undid the snaps holding his cock ring on and carelessly tossed the black piece of leather across the room. He then shifted in John's lap, moving back just a fraction, ignoring the little noise of complaint the other man let out. Before John could voice his objections, Bob's hand closed around both of their cocks, stroking them roughly.

"Fuck!" John cried out, thrusting his hips up, his cock sliding against Bob's inside the other man's fist.

Bob was grinning wildly. His other hand came up to fist into John's hair, pulling a gasp from his mouth. Yanking, he tugged John's head to hover directly over his fist.

"Spit on it," he commanded. John obeyed, letting his saliva well up before opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, letting strands of his spit land on their already-leaking glans.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck my fist," Bob murmured in his ear, voice just loud enough to carry. Both you and John moaned at the same time, your free hand coming up to cup your breast through the lacy fabric of the chemise.

"You're leaking so much, baby. So wet for me. Practically dripping," Bob purred, starting to mouth at John's neck, nipping and sucking at the skin there. You could see him thumb the slick heads of both of their cocks in one swipe, and you followed the motion, rubbing firmly over your clit.

Eventually, Bob appeared to tire of John setting the pace. He pushed at John's shoulders, urging him down onto his back on the bed. Bracing one hand on John's abs, Bob rolled his hips, throwing back his head and letting out a long groan. He started riding John in earnest, rutting into his own hand, cock sliding easily against John's. It was mesmerizing. You could see all the muscles in Bob's ass and the backs of his thighs flex almost hypnotically as he started up a rhythm.

The thought occurred to you that that must be what John got to see all the times Bob fucked you in front of him, burying himself deep into your cunt. You gritted your teeth to hold back a particularly undignified noise, feeling yourself growing impossibly wetter at the thought. You'd believed John was just watching him spear you open, watching as Bob pistoned his cock in and out of you. But you knew in that moment that your blond boyfriend's eyes had flickered back and forth, watching the way Bob's cheeks dimpled with each thrust.

And now, John grabbed at those dimples, fingers digging into the flesh of Bob's ass, unconsciously aiding Bob's momentum. His face was slack, mouth open, watching the man above him with a look of pure awe, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Smiling down, Bob bit his lip coyly, a look deliberately designed to entice.

"Feel good?" he murmured teasingly.

"Yes," John panted, his hips twitching with the urge to grind up against him. His fingertips grasping at Bob's skin hard enough to leave white half-moons. "Fuck, Bobby. You're so goddamn pretty."

Bob's hips stuttered at the words, and he let out a moan that reverberated through the room. It was loud enough that you felt like you could feel it through the bed, rumbling through your body, making your cunt pulse with desire.

"So goddamn pretty," John repeated, unable this time to resist thrusting up into Bob's hand. Bob reacted like you imagined he would if John was inside of him, forcing down a shuddery gasp, letting out a breathless sound instead. "Look so fucking good on top of me. Fuck, I can't believe -"

But Bob cut him off, swooping down to capture John's lips with his in a deep, filthy kiss. He'd had to move both his hands to lay flat on top of the blond, but that didn't stop him from rutting down, grinding their lengths between their stomachs. John only squeezed his ass harder, soliciting another greedy noise from Bob that John eagerly swallowed.

Bob only pulled away to fasten his lips to John's nipple, jaw working as he suckled deeply, only stopping to switch sides, running his tongue over the neglected nub, and repeat the process. John's back arched against his mouth, exposing even more of his neck as he let out a wanton noise of pleasure.

This was everything you could have hoped for and more. That spark of desire you'd seen between them so many times had ignited into a raging fire hot enough to burn the room down, and you found you didn't give a damn about the flames.

The room filled with the sounds of grunts and moans, of flesh against flesh, and the wet schlick of your hand between your legs. When Bob started letting out little involuntary whimpers, the same sound you'd heard a hundred times before he spilled inside of you, you had to step in.

"That's enough, boys," you said, mustering all your resolve to fill your voice with authority. As much as you wanted to see Bob cum all over John's stomach, you couldn't let them derail your plans.

Complying almost instantly, John grabbed Bob's hips even harder, forcing the brunet to a stop. Bob sunk his teeth into the skin around John's nipple, fighting down the disobedient whine that threatened to escape his lips.

"Shit!" John grunted, snapping his hips upward, helpless to hold still under Bob's mouth. "I'm sorry, mistress," he panted, turning his head to lock his pleading eyes on yours. "Didn't mean to keep going."

The smile that tugged at the corner of your lips was fond but the gleam in your eye was predatory.

"You're okay, baby," you soothed, and John visibly relaxed, breathing out a soft sigh of distinct relief. Getting up on your hands and knees, you leaned forward, curling your fingers into Bob's hair, giving him a warning tug. "But you need to be a good boy and let go."

He did so, releasing John's nipple with a faint 'pop.' His teeth marks were visible, making a circle framing John's reddened nub. It was temptation incarnate. You couldn't resist.

Despite the awkward angle, you found yourself leaning down, blowing on the skin still glistening with Bob's saliva, making John whine and squirm, rubbing up involuntarily against Bob enough to make both men groan. You let out a deep, throaty laugh that seemingly sent a shiver up both men's spines.

After you positioned yourself back against the headboard, you patted the space next to you invitingly. Your boyfriends' eyes met, light blue gazing up into dark, and a look passed between them, one that you couldn't quite read.

Before climbing off of him, Bob pressed his lips to John's in, what was for them, a new kind of kiss. One that was surprisingly tender. John readily responded, eyes fluttering closed as he craned his neck up to lean into the kiss. It lasted for only a few scant seconds, but both men looked a little dazed when Bob pulled back.

Bob eased his way off of John, careful only to put his hands and knees on the bed and not accidentally elbow the other man in the stomach. He made a show of crawling the short distance, playfully laying kisses up your body to the inside of your ankle, the outside of your thigh, the back of your hand, the crook of your elbow, and the curve of your shoulder before resting his chin there as well, batting his lashes up at you.

You laughed, giving him a quick peck on the tip of his nose before capturing his lips in a brief, gentle kiss. When you pulled back, Bob gazed up at you with his heart in his eyes, his whole expression having softened from his previous teasing countenance.

"Love you," Bob murmured almost dreamily, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Love you too," you whispered back, pulling your lip between your teeth to fight the urge to give him yet another kiss. Instead, you patted the spot next to you by the headboard.

Bob didn't hesitate, putting his back against the wall, playfully draping his right leg over your left one. Giggling, you pulled your leg out from under his, doing the same thing right back to him. When you could feel him start to repeat the silly game you had accidentally started, a quick, painless pinch to his thigh stopped him in his tracks with a little yelp.

"Oh, stop it, you big baby," you laughed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed John wasn't laying on his back anymore. Sometime when Bob made his way up the bed, John must have moved, positioning himself back how he was before, sitting on his knees. But this time he was fully facing the both of you, a curious expression on his face.

It didn't surprise you to see a quiet look of affection when he was watching you, but seeing it there when looking at Bob was new. Or maybe it wasn't new at all. You'd seen him observe Bob before. But those times, his expression wasn't readable. It was like he had a wall up, his face borderline expressionless. This time, however? His guard was down, and he didn't hold back the small, crooked smile or the tenderness in his gaze as he watched Bob as the other man pretended to be wounded by your oh-so vicious attack.

You shushed Bob with a wink and a little nudge, clearing your throat and rolling your shoulders back to get back into character. Then you crooked your finger at John.

Wordlessly, he obeyed, slowly crawling up the bed while straddling your and Bob's overlapping legs. When he came to a stop, his hard length was pressed against your thigh, pink lips parted as he breathed deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth. You wished for a fleeting second that you thought to buy a collar for him. The image of tugging him into a kiss with one finger curled under fitted leather was deeply enticing.

So you used your favorite method instead, running your fingers through his hair before fisting a handful, relishing in his quivering gasp before pulling his lips to meet yours. He melted into you, letting your tongue ravage his mouth, each touch reinforcing that you were in control and he was just your plaything to be used. And, judging by his answering moans, John loved every second of it.

Taking his lower lip between your teeth, you bit down just hard enough to hurt, eliciting another delicious sound, soothing the ache with your tongue before you fully let go. You turned John's head to face Bob, who immediately followed suit, kissing the blond until he was breathless.

"You wanna make it up to me, baby?" you cooed at John. His eyes were blank for a moment, just blinking at you like you'd spoken to him in another language, one he was familiar with but couldn't quite place. "Gotta make amends for being such a naughty boy."

John nodded dumbly, little to no light of recognition in his eyes.

Bob beat you to the punch. "Use your words, Walker. You gonna make it up to her?" he coaxed.

"Make it up to us," you corrected, and Bob shot you a slightly lopsided little grin. "After all, he roped you into this."

"That's right. You gonna make it up to us, pretty boy?" Bob cooed, cupping John's cheek in his hand.

"Yes, sir," John mumbled, his words a little muddled but not quite slurred. "And ma'am. Yes, ma'am. Wanna make it up to you."

"Then do it. Make us cum," you said simply, spreading your legs invitingly. John's eyes flickered from your core, arousal wet and glistening in the dim light, to Bob's rigid cock, the angry red crown of which was sliding in and out of Bob's fist as he lazily stroked himself.

Despite being spoiled for choice, you weren't surprised when John maneuvered himself between your legs and wrapped his arms under your thighs, spreading you even further. If you weren't dripping on the bed by this point, you were sure you would be now watching John's eager eyes drinking in the sight of your bare, drooling cunt. You couldn't stop the gasp that escaped from your lips when John blew a stream of cool air across your heated flesh, sending a pulse of warmth through your body.

If Bob had tasted you like he was starved for you, John ate you like a man possessed. The second his tongue touched your slick folds, his mouth was everywhere. He lifted your hips like it was nothing, causing you to let out a little shriek and grip onto whatever you could for stability. That ended up being Bob's shoulder and the bedpost, clinging to them like lifelines as John practically picked you up. Bob coaxed you to lean against the headboard, resting your upper back against it while John supported your lower body with his hands and forearms alone.

It was messy and fast and loud and so fucking perfect. He wasn't gentle about it. His hands dug into your hips hard enough you knew there were going to be finger-shaped bruises by the morning. In his haste to devour you, he wasn't as cautious with his teeth as he normally would be, but the brush of them against you contrasted in a sharp but sweet way that only served to crest your pleasure even higher. John was everywhere, sucking and slurping and drinking you, going from thrusting his tongue deep inside of you to running tight circles around your clit to everywhere in between. He barely seemed to breathe, pulling back only for desperate, wet drags of air like a long-distance swimmer, too concentrated on your pleasure to care about getting any oxygen in his lungs.

By the time he lowered you back onto the bed, your head was swimming in a haze of ecstasy. You didn't even feel the fingers at your entrance until he plunged them inside of you. You arched your back, letting out a strangled cry as you raised your hips, still wanting more and harder. He worked you quickly, thick digits stretching you and curling to hit that spongy spot inside of you that made your vision go white at the edges. John slipped a third finger in, and you weren't even sure what sounds you were making, just that your throat was already sore from them.

He didn't even let up when your second orgasm of the night crested, hitting you hard and fast enough that you were gasping for air. John kept going, pumping his fingers into you, mouth wrapped around your throbbing, oversensitive clit. With each thrust, you felt something different, a strange new pressure inside of you like you needed to pee. You tried to warn him, but the words just wouldn't come out. You tugged at his hair, but that only seemed to spur him on, sucking hard on that little bundle of nerves until your third orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. Your thighs clenched tight around John's head, shaking as they kept his mouth pulled against you like that wasn't exactly where he already wanted to be. A different kind if pleasure hit, one that was hot and wet and explosive. With a wail, it burst out of you, soaking John's face and drenching the sheets beneath you with waves of your release.

You laid back on the bed, feeling completely boneless, your breath gradually returning to normal. You watched idly as Bob surged forward, pressing his mouth against John's, their tongues dueling like they were fighting over the taste of you. The blond only pulled away to check on you, gently stroking your skin, pressing wet kisses to your thighs.

"Doin' okay there?" John asked, his voice soft and low, just the barest hint of an accent peeking out. "What color are you at?"

"Green," you rasped out without hesitation. "So fucking green. Oh my God, John."

John beamed up at you, his smile proud without being too smug. He looked effervescent, practically glowing like you'd made him orgasm his brains out, not the other way around.

"That good?" he teased. Even in your winded state, you could hear the genuine need for praise behind it.

"Fucking…incredible, baby. Holy shit. Thank you." As you talked, Bob tossed John a washcloth from the stash you'd squirreled away in the bedside table. He hesitated for a second but wiped his face dutifully, carelessly tossing the cloth off the bed to land amongst all the discarded clothes.

"Pretty sure you meant for me to go back and forth between you and Bobby, but I was wound up a little too tight to multitask," John explained with a grin.

"I noticed," you said with a chuckle. You reached down to cup John's face, and he leaned into your touch, briefly closing his eyes. "That just means you'll get to focus fully on Bob."

"If…" Bob hesitated, biting at the inside of his cheek, eyes flitting back and forth on the bed, like he was searching for the right words. "If you want to. You don't…have to," he finished lamely, looking back up.

Blond eyelashes fluttered as John opened his lids, those sky blue eyes suddenly sharp and focused as they met Bob's sea blue ones.

"Do you really think…" John sat up, starting to climb over your and Bob's intertwined legs to fully face the other man. "…You could kiss me and touch me like that? And not let me at least return the favor?"

"You don't have to," Bob repeated weakly.

"I want to," John emphasized. He reached out, lightly putting his hand over the one on Bob's cock. Even from where you were, you could see the way it twitched under his touch. "If you want me to."

"Yes, please," Bob said breathlessly. John inched closer, resting on his elbows as he looked up at Bob through his lashes, a sultry expression on his face.

"Then move that hand, Bobby. Let me taste you."

Bob did as he was told.

John started slow. He placed a gentle, closed-mouthed kiss to the glistening head of Bob's cock before laying a trail of them down his shaft, pausing after each one. By the time John was lathing his balls with his tongue, Bob's whole body was rigid as he tried not to squirm. A few tentative strokes of his hand as John sucked first one then the other into his mouth, and Bob was white-knuckling the sheets and worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

Pulling back with a pop, John smirked how far Bob had come undone in just a few minutes.

"I wanna do this right, take my time with you." At his words, Bob's face scrunched up as if he was pained. But John continued, "But you've been worked up for long enough. No more teasing."

True to his word, John's lips enveloped the very tip of Bob's cock. His throat worked as he suckled at the sensitive head, drawing a whine out of Bob and an aborted thrust of his hips.

John didn't waste any time, slowly starting to inch his way down, taking more and more of Bob into his mouth until he inevitably gagged and pulled back with a gasp, eyes watering and lips wet. Even though he wasn't able to get down nearly as much as you could, it was still impressive. Bob wasn't exactly small, something that, according to him, the Sentry serum didn't affect. Yet John got a considerable amount in his mouth. But judging by the annoyed look on his face, he used to be able to take more.

"Easy there," you cautioned, stroking John's hair. "Take your time. You don't need to deepthroat him."

John glared at you, his jaw clenching stubbornly, and you couldn't help but laugh. "That wasn't a challenge, baby."

"It might as well have been," he muttered, starting to stroke Bob's shaft tentatively, rubbing his thumb over the frenulum right beneath the tip. A small gasp left Bob's lips, and John smirked up at him. "Feel good, baby boy?"

"Fuck," Bob moaned, jerking his hips up involuntarily. You couldn't tell if he was reacting to John's hand or the pet name, but you suspected it was a mix of both.

It didn't take John long to get back into the swing of things, bobbing his head up and down rhythmically on Bob's cock, his hand stroking the length he couldn't fit. Eventually, he grabbed one of Bob's hands, prying it away from the sheets and offering his head as a hand hold. Bob's fingers lightly gripped his hair, and John let out a pleased noise, Bob whimpering at the vibrations.

The scene before you was incredible: Bob with his eyes closed, chest heaving as he laid his head back against the headboard, his angry red cock sliding into and out of John's bright pink, abused lips. His chest heaved with each shaky breath, nipples hardened and begging for attention. He panted open-mouthed like he was winded and trying to catch his breath, his hand gripping John's hair more and more the closer he got to the edge.

And John was no better. Saliva slicked the bottom half of his face as thoroughly as your arousal had minutes before, but he didn't seem to notice or care. He didn't stop for breath. His nostrils flared each time his head rose as he forced himself to breathe through it. It was a beautiful sight - so much beautiful, barely sun-kissed skin. You could trace all the freckles down his body, from the little ones on his face, to the tantalizing one on his ear, down his neck and over his shoulders, sliding across his back and even on the rounded globes of his ass. You fought back the urge to touch, not wanting to disrupt him. But, by the way he rutted against the mattress in time with each dip of his head, John was probably too distracted to even feel it.

By the time Bob was close, it was glaringly obvious to both you and John. He was practically vibrating under John's mouth, eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted as he let out all the little noises he couldn't fight down - whimpers, whines, and breathy grunts. John sped up, hollowing his cheeks to increase the suction, big blue eyes watching Bob's contorting face with wrapt attention.

"Look at him, baby. Watch him make you feel good," you cooed at Bob, kissing wherever you could touch - his shoulders, his neck, his face. He obeyed, wrenching his eyes open, and gazing down at John with an expression that could only be described as ruined.

"Almost there, aren't you?" you purred, unable to resist the siren call of those dusky pink nipples, dipping your head to run your tongue around the peak of one.

Bob gasped, his hips trying to twitch forward, but John held them pressed down into the bed.

"Oh, fuck. So close," Bob moaned as a warning, weakly trying to pull himself out of John's grip. John only held him down harder, the muscles in his forearm flexing deliciously "John…Johnny…gonna cum," he whined.

You pulled back from Bob's chest just in time to see John's eyes roll back in his head, rutting down hard against the bed, moaning wantonly against Bob's cock. It was the first time you could recall Bob ever using John's given name, a fact that didn't seem to be lost on him. He only sucked harder until Bob let out a cry, hips jerking in spurts as he spilled down John's throat.

John didn't stop, milking Bob for each drop, until he started twitching from oversensitivity. When he finally pulled back, letting Bob's softening dick fall from his mouth, John barely had time to smile up at the brunet, opening his mouth to say something before Bob interrupted him.

He crashed his lips to John's in a frenzied kiss, licking into the other man's mouth like he was desperate for a taste of himself on John's tongue. John melted into him immediately, making soft, breathy noises as Bob ravaged his mouth.

Bob didn't even break the kiss when he picked John up and manhandled him onto his lap as if he weighed nothing. John let out an undignified squawk of surprise, eyes flying open. He went to pull back, but Bob cupped the back of the blond's head with his left hand, holding him firmly in place. John moaned at the casual display of power, eyes fluttering closed as he sucked on Bob's tongue.

Bob reached down to wrap his hand around John's cock, which was brushing up against Bob's stomach, leaving little streaks of precum there. But before he could, you grabbed his wrist. Bob pulled away, ignoring John's protesting whine, looking at you, eyes rounded with surprise at being stopped.

John was close. That much you could tell, judging by how much he was leaking and how it throbbed in anticipation of Bob's touch. And you wanted to finish the night off right.

Before Bob could ask, you dug around under your pillow, batting away the white clicker you'd given Bob what felt like hours ago and grasping the item you'd left there. Pulling it out from its hiding spot, you showed Bob the long, white cylindrical object. He blinked at it in confusion, still dazed both from the kiss and the orgasm. It wasn't until you pushed the power button and it began to rumble did the pieces come together for Bob.

The buzzing sound drew John's attention, and he looked at you in confusion until his eyes fell upon the wand vibrator in your hand.

"You did such a good job making it up to us, baby. Do you want your reward for doing so well?" you asked, your voice a husky purr.

"Yes. Please," John croaked out. "Please, mistress. 'M so close."

"Good boy," you cooed, kissing his temple as you situated yourself closer. "Bob, make sure you keep his hips still."

Bob nodded, licking his lips, a look of anticipation in his eyes. "Yes, mistress." His hands captured John's hips, pressing them against the bed.

When you pressed the rumbling head of the vibrator against John's cock, he cried out, overwhelmed by the stimulation. He thrust up against Bob's hold almost immediately, but Bob's grip held him firmly down.

"Color?" you asked.

"G-green," John stammered out. "Green. Greengreengreen! Please don't stop!"

And you didn't, moving the vibrator around, testing to see what spots made him cry out louder than the others. By the time you pressed the wand against John's frenulum, he was a babbling mess, drool and tears streaming down his face.

You hadn't given him permission to orgasm, so he held on tight. His whole body itself practically vibrated, spine straight and rigid, hands clenched, and toes curled as he fought the overwhelming desire to cum.

You inched the vibrator up, the rounded edge just barely touching the crown of his cock. John was shaking even more violently now, begging and pleading with you to let him finish.

You caught Bob's eye, and he nodded his head once. John had had enough. And you agreed.

"Okay, baby. It's time. Need you to cum for me." With your words, you pressed the speed button, turning the wand on an even higher setting.

John broke, throwing his head back as he let out a wordless cry, cumming in hard spurts that painted both his and Bob's torsos in his spend. You kept the vibrator going through it, flipping it back to the lowest setting as Bob stroked the shaft of John's cock, milking every last drop out of him.

Tossing the vibrator aside, you reached over to the other bedside table, grabbing another washcloth while Bob maneuvered John onto his back between you. Bob took the cloth from your outstretched hand, starting the work of cleaning everyone up while you laid down next to John, resting your head on his shoulder holding him close as he came down from his orgasm.

It felt so nice, so cozy. Even without a blanket, the heat you felt both from your space heater boyfriends and your previous exertions wrapped you up in its warmth. You weren't intending to sleep. After all, you needed to check in with both your boys, make sure they were feeling all right, and talk out anything that needed to be said. But your body seemed to have other plans.

You don't remember closing your eyes, and you definitely don't remember drifting off, but the next thing you knew, you were waking up. At first, you weren't sure what woke you. Someone had pulled the comforter up over you and John's hand was now intertwined with yours. You had apparently clung to his arm in your sleep, and he had made no attempt to extricate himself. Judging by the way his thumb idly stroked the back of your hand, John was happy to have you close.

That's when you heard what had woken you up - a hushed conversation. The rumbling of John's whispers would normally have lulled you even further to sleep, but it seems to have disturbed it this time. It took a little effort, but you tuned in, straining your ears to hear the words they spoke.

"…new for all of us. It'll take some time to adjust, but we did just fine after we all started cohabitating."

Bob let out a quiet snort, one that had John shushing him, using his free hand to lightly swat at Bob's arm.

"'Cohabitating,'" Bob said laughingly. "Riiight. That's a nice way to say we were fucking each other's brains out."

"Be quiet, you brat," John angry whispered. For a second, you thought he was genuinely mad and considered speaking up, but the soft chuckle he let out disabused you of that notion.

"If you call me a brat, I'm going to act like one," Bob warned. Your eyes had adjusted enough that you could see Bob lying on the other side of John, mirroring you. His head was on John's shoulder, arms wrapped around John's as well. Their hands were both under the covers, but you suspected John was holding Bob's just like he was holding yours.

"Don't tempt me," John said playfully, leaning down and kissing the tip of Bob's nose. The brunet scrunched it up at John in an expression of put upon indignation, which only made the other man smile more. "You're a cute brat."

Bob groaned quietly, making a show of burying his face in John's arm, much to the other man's obvious amusement. Bob's voice was muffled, but you could still make out his words when he said, "God, now there's going to be two of you saying shit like that."

"If it's any consolation, I've already been thinking it. Just haven't said it out loud," John added helpfully, only smiling even wider in amusement when Bob scoffed.

He tilted his head just enough to be able to eye John through the curtain of unruly brown hair that fell in front of his face. "That makes it worse," Bob muttered.

"Well, there is a silver lining at least. Now you don't have to act like you're not staring at my ass all the time," John said, not even bothering to hide the smugness in his tone.

That was enough to make Bob properly lift his head, glaring at John open-mouthed, unable to decide if he was playfully pissy or playfully surprised.

"You knew?" Bob hissed at him.

"You're not subtle, Bobert. I saw the where your eyes went when I'd wear shorts at the gym. Made sure to wear shorter ones just for you," he added with a wink.

"You asshole," Bob said, narrowing his eyes at John. When the other man just grinned harder, Bob stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry at him. You felt more than heard John's answering laugh.

"So childish," John murmured, inching his head closer to Bob's. The brunet blew another, smaller raspberry in retaliation.

"Can't help it. I'm a brat, remember?" Bob lifted his head, starting to lean in towards John, not close enough for them to kiss without the blond straining his neck and risking disturbing you, though.

"Yeah, you are," John said, fondness in his voice. They drifted nearer and nearer to each other, neither of them seeming willing to break the stand off. You couldn't help yourself.

"Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss," you chanted, and both men's heads snapped towards you. You didn't stop - you doubled down. "Kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss!"

"How long have you been awake?" Bob asked. "You were out like a light."

"Yeah, so exhausted from your long day of evil plotting," John teased.

"Long enough to clock the sexual tension," you quipped back. Both men had enough shame to look slightly bashful if completely unashamed. "Now, go on. Do it!" you urged. "I'll start chanting again."

Bob rolled his eyes theatrically, making sure both of you saw it but pulled himself up further on the bed to get closer to John. You thought you heard him whisper something, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, John spoke up.

"Well, if the lady insists…"

When they kissed again, you cheered, wolf whistling at them until they were smiling too hard to keep going.

"Better?" John asked.

"Much," you confirmed with a decisive nod of your head. Both men glanced at each other put of the corner of their eyes, a mischievous look on their faces.

Before you could open your mouth again, Bob shouted "Now!" and both men pounced on you, peppering your face, neck, and shoulders with obnoxiously loud kisses. You laughed, shrieking and squirming, halfheartedly trying to break free to no avail. You didn't really mind, though. There's no place else you'd rather be.

Divider Credit -> @/strangergraphics

Images in header are not mine

Cross-posted to AO3

Hope you liked it! Feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

Please do not repost or reproduce in any way. You do not have my permission to use this for AI scraping.

[voidkrypto]

Two-Man Job (Some Maintenance Required)

pairing: john walker x fem!reader x bob reynolds [AU]

summary: Your shower broke during what felt like the worst day of your life. Two plumbers help you out—in more ways than one.

Maybe you just needed them to fuck the frustration out of you.

tags: plumber AU, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, porn with very little plot, size kink (if you squint), threesome, double penetration, unprotected p in v (practice safe sex!), dubcon (just to be safe), eiffel tower (but they’re not high-fiving lol), hate fucking, squirting, creampie, degrading names, bratty reader, john degrades while bob praises

notes: sentryagent got me on a chokehold and i wanted an excuse to write them sandwiching reader; why is it so hard to describe the eiffel tower position; oh & i made a mood board !!; first time posting a fic, please be nice <3; this is completely self indulgent, i’m sorry; not properly proof read

NSFW / 18+ only / MDNI

part 2

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You’ve had a long day.

Your boss had been on your ass. Customers were worse than usual. Traffic on the way home felt like a punishment. You weren’t sure how many more little disasters you could take before you finally snapped.

All you wanted was to get home, take a hot shower, maybe relieve some stress with your vibrator, and knock out. That was it. That was the plan.

You’d just stepped under the water, letting it run down your body, when the universe decided to push you one step closer to your breaking point. The showerhead sputtered—and then stopped entirely.

The sudden lack of water left your skin cold.

“Are you fucking kidding me…”

You fiddled with the shower knob, hoping to reset something—only to twist it too far. With a metallic groan and a loud clunk, water burst from the base of the fixture, spraying everywhere—out into the bathroom floor.

You yelped and stumbled out of the tub, grabbing a towel in a rush, wrapping it around your dripping body as you snatched your phone. You dialed building maintenance, biting back curses as you explained the issue. The woman on the other end promised someone would be up in a few minutes.

You considered getting properly dressed, but you hadn’t even finished your shower. What was the point of getting dressed just to get undressed again?

So instead, you pulled on a thin satin robe from your closet—just as someone knocked at your door.

You were halfway down the hall when another knock sounded, harder this time.

“Coming!” you called out, not caring if you sounded impatient.

You opened the door to a tall, broad man with dirty blond hair that matched his beard. His work shirt had John stitched onto the chest. He didn’t even pretend to smile—just stared at you like you’d personally ruined his day.

Behind him stood another man—dark hair, soft eyes, toolbox in hand. He smiled a little, hesitant, as your gaze flicked down to his name tag. Bob.

“Plumbing,” John said flatly. Just that. No hello, no how are you.

Your eyes bounced between them. “Doesn’t it usually take one guy to fix a shower?”

Bob gave a small laugh. “Oh, uh, he’s training me. I’m new.”

“Right,” you muttered.

“We’ve been knocking for three minutes,” John added, stepping inside

You stared at him. “I was getting dressed.”

He raised an eyebrow like he didn’t believe you.

You stepped aside to let them in fully, then turned and led them toward the bathroom.

“We were told your showerhead broke?” Bob asked politely.

“Yeah. It just gave out mid-shower,” you said, gesturing toward the mess. “Water sprayed everywhere. Thought I was gonna drown in there.”

“Doubt you’re that fragile,” John muttered, crouching at the base of the tub, already unscrewing the faucet with rough, practiced hands.

You blinked. “I’m sorry, did I offend you by asking for help with my broken shower?”

“Didn’t expect to get a bath in the process,” he grumbled, nodding toward the water pooling on the tile.

You rolled your eyes. “Relax. It’s barely even a puddle.”

Bob gently cut in, trying to keep the mood light. “Do you have anything we could use to soak it up?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some bath mats.”

You laid them down while John started working. You backed up to the door but didn’t leave—just stood nearby, arms crossed, watching. John was at the valve now, Bob a couple feet behind him, crouched beside the toolbox, handing him parts and tools as needed.

The space felt even smaller with them in it. Your bathroom wasn’t exactly generous to begin with, and now it was filled with two large, solid men—both of them tall, broad, shoulders brushing walls as they moved. You couldn’t help but notice the way they towered over you.

At one point, John muttered something about needing to replace the showerhead but also adjust the valve. He dropped to one knee, leaning over the edge of the tub, twisting something inside the wall.

Without realizing it, your feet dragged you closer. First a step, then another. You weren’t trying to hover—you just wanted to see what they were doing. It’s your bathroom, after all. You don’t exactly trust this grumpy plumber and his nervous trainee not to botch it.

You keep drifting in, hovering behind John, watching. Until you were right next to him, peering down, wet hair dripping over your shoulders.

John twisted a valve.

“You planning to supervise me the whole time?” he muttered.

“Do you plan on fixing it right the first time?”

That earned a grunt. Bob glanced between the two of you, like he wasn’t sure whether to step in or slowly back out of the bathroom.

You leaned over a little more. Your damp hair dangled beside John’s arm.

A drop slid off and landed on his shoulder.

He stilled. Then looked up at you, deadpan. “You’re dripping on me.”

You muttered a sorry, pushing your hair back. But before you could help it, you leaned in again—just slightly—and another droplet landed on the back of his neck.

“Okay, seriously. Back up. You’re dripping like a wet dog.”

You should’ve apologized. Really, you should’ve just walked out and let them work. But between the hell of your day and the way he’d been snapping at you since the moment you opened the front door, you felt something sharp and bratty uncurling inside your chest.

You snorted. “Should I have taken the time to blow-dry my hair while my bathroom was flooding?”

“You could’ve at least wrapped your hair up.”

You groaned, finally stepping back toward Bob, who offered an apologetic smile.

“What’s it like dealing with him all day?” you asked, not bothering to lower your voice.

Bob laughed nervously. “He’s not so bad. He’s actually taught me a lot. He’s great.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Bob, hand me the channel lock,” John snapped.

He glanced up, then paused when he noticed you still lingering in the bathroom.

“You sticking around for moral support, or what?”

You folded your arms. “I’m here to make sure you don’t make it worse.”

John muttered something under his breath. Then, “Ah, shit—”

You stiffened. “What?”

He didn’t answer, just adjusted something behind the valve. You moved closer, nervous now, crouching near his side, your knee nearly brushing his shoulder.

Then it happened.

A metallic pop. A gurgle. And suddenly a cold blast of water sprayed out from the pipe. Straight across the bathroom. Straight onto you.

You gasped and stumbled backward, soaked in seconds. Your satin robe clung to your body instantly—thin, now translucent in the light. Your nipples stiffened at the shock of the cold, pressing visibly through the fabric.

Bob froze. Tool in hand, eyes wide, clearly trying very hard not to stare.

John did stare. Briefly. Blinks once. Then raises a brow.

You caught their silence too late. You looked down and—

Your face went hot.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, yanking your arms up to cover your chest. “Seriously?”

“I—I didn’t—I didn’t see anything,” Bob stammered, gaze darting toward the ceiling.

John wiped water from his face, totally unbothered. “You were the one standing there like you wanted a free car wash.”

You glared. “Maybe if you weren’t taking so long—!”

“Then stop distracting me and let me finish.”

“Then hurry up, you grumpy asshole!”

That seemed to flip something in John.

He slowly stood, rising to his full height, and took a single step forward—slow, deliberate, almost threatening.

You instinctively backed up, only to bump into something solid. Broad. Warm. Bob. You hadn’t realized he was standing directly behind you now.

You gulped, trying to ignore the sudden heat blooming between your thighs. John was looking down at you, shoulders squared, jaw ticking. Behind you, Bob’s quiet presence only added to the intensity—another large body caging you in.

John narrowed his eyes.

“Do you just like bitching at me about how I do my job, or are you always this fucking bratty?”

You blinked. Only in bed, usually. The thought slipped out before you could stop it.

“What was that?” he asked, voice sharp, although you’re almost certain he heard you.

Shit. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Bob cleared his throat behind you, a nervous note in his voice. “Hey, John… maybe we should just—”

“No, Bob,” John interrupted, gaze never leaving yours. “I think this little tease has something to get off her chest.”

You suddenly became hyper aware of the robe clinging to your soaked skin. Your nipples, hard from cold and arousal, pressed through the thin satin. You shivered, though you weren’t sure if it was from the temperature or the way their bodies loomed close.

“What’s your problem, huh?” John murmured. “You wanted two guys to come up here and hate-fuck the attitude outta you?”

Your breath hitched.

You weren’t exactly denying it. If anything, part of you wanted to push him further, just to see what he’d do, while the rest of you ached for him to take control and ruin you for mouthing off.

John stepped in close again. His fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up. His lips crashed into yours—hungry, rough, all tongue and teeth. You whimpered into it, knees buckling slightly as he deepened the kiss.

Bob caught you from behind, hands landing firmly at your hips to steady you. Your ass rocked back against his crotch, and you felt it—him—hardening through his jeans.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, he leaned in and kissed you next. Slower. Sweeter. His lips moved like he was trying to memorize the shape of yours. His groan was quiet, breath warm against your cheek, and it made your thighs clench.

Your hands slid down between them. You cupped their cocks through the denim—both of them thick and straining against their jeans. John hissed, Bob sighed, and the sound nearly made you moan.

John didn’t wait. He shoved his zipper down with one hand.

Bob fumbled with his belt, awkward and flushed, and you smiled at how adorable he looked—shy and hard as a rock. You helped him undo it, brushing your lips over his in a soft kiss that made him sigh again.

Their cocks were out, thick and pulsing against your palms.

You wrapped your hands around them both.

John let out a low grunt. “Look at her. So fuckin’ eager.”

“She’s perfect,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing your ear. “…Feels good.”

You alternated strokes, slow and steady, your palms slick with pre-cum. Then you kissed them again—first John, rough and fast, then Bob, soft and warm. They tasted so different. One fire, the other honey.

It wasn’t enough. You needed more. They did too.

John’s hands rested gently but insistently on your shoulders, guiding you forward with slow, deliberate pressure. You bent at the waist, your back arching until your torso was almost horizontal, knees only slightly bent. Still standing but just barely.

You looked up at him through your lashes, lips parted just enough to let your breath ghost over the head of his cock. He twitched in your grip, and you smirked—just a little. Not enough to push him too far. Just enough to tempt.

“You gonna just stare at it, or put that bratty mouth to better use?” he growled.

Your smile faded as you slowly wrapped your lips around him, inching down, letting your tongue drag along the underside. He was hard, already slick with need, and you moaned deliberately, knowing he could feel the vibration.

“That’s more like it,” John muttered, hand tightening in your hair. “All that attitude, and look at you now, mouth made for cock.”

Bob remained standing behind you, hands skimming down your waist.

“Do you want me to…?” he asked, voice gentle, uncertain.

You released John from your mouth with a pant. “Yes,” you nodded quickly. “Yes. Please.”

John scoffed, degrading as ever. “Needy little thing. Can’t wait to get filled, huh?”

Your chest was bent forward, ass arched back, hands braced on John’s thighs as you took him into your mouth—his cock thick and hot against your tongue. Behind you, Bob aligned himself, his hands steady on your hips. You felt the blunt head of his cock press against your slick folds, and you braced for the stretch.

“I’ll go slow,” Bob promised, voice shaking.

John chuckled darkly, threading a hand through your hair. “Don’t bother. She’s soaked already.”

Bob pushed in.

You cried out around John’s cock as the stretch hit all at once, your body rocked forward with the force of it. Bob groaned behind you, shaky and deep, his hands tightening on your hips.

John’s cock slid deeper into your mouth. “That’s it. Choke on it, slut.”

You moaned around him, your throat fluttering. Bob’s thrusts picked up slowly, each one matched by the roll of John’s hips. You were their toy—mouth full, pussy stretched, your body nothing but sensation.

Bob let out a soft, broken groan, his hips stuttering as he eased deeper. His voice was barely more than a breath. “You okay, baby?” he asked and all you could do was whimper.

His voice trembled, like it took effort just to speak through how good you felt. “Fuck… you’re perfect…”

Bob leaned over your back, his chest pressed against you. One hand wrapped around to squeeze your breast, his fingers gently teasing your nipple as he pressed kisses to the curve of your neck.

John tangled a fist in your hair, tugging just enough to keep your head in place. “She likes being used. Likes choking on cock while we wreck her from both ends.”

You whimpered, unable to form words. Every thrust pushed you deeper into John’s cock, and every drag of Bob’s cock made your legs tremble. Slick dripped down your thighs.

Behind you, Bob was nothing but gentle—his hands steady on your hips, his touch easing rather than demanding. He whispered praises against your skin with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips, voice warm and low between soft kisses to your neck and shoulder. “Feels so good bein’ inside you, sweetheart.”

John felt your throat tighten around him and pulled away to let you breathe. After a beat, John guided you to stand up straight again, then lifted your leg, hooking it over his arm to open you wider.

Bob stayed behind you, cock still buried deep, both arms wrapped tight around your stomach. His hand slid down and found your clit, rubbing slow, precise circles that made your whole body jolt.

“One hole,” John muttered, stroking your cheek. “That’s all she gets. And she’s fuckin’ dripping for it.”

“It’s too much,” you gasped, overwhelmed, but you didn’t ask them to stop. Didn’t want them to.

“You can take it,” Bob whispered, kissing your temple. “You’re doin’ so good, baby…”

They started again—both of their cocks sliding into your cunt together, thick and slick, rubbing along each other inside you. The pressure was unbearable in the best way. You were so full you swore you could feel them in your gut.

“Ah—ah—fuck, yes—yes—” Your words dissolved into moans, barely coherent.

John lets out a chuckle that dissolved into a groan. “Can’t even tell which one of us she’s clenching around harder.”

Your legs gave out, but they held you up.

Every thrust made your vision blur, every roll of their hips pushing you closer to the edge. You sobbed their names, helpless against the tidal wave building inside you.

“F-Fuck—John, Bob—”

They didn’t stop.

Bob kissed your shoulder. “Go on, angel, come for us.”

John cussed through gritted teeth.

You shattered.

Your orgasm hit hard, ripping through you in waves. You cried out, thighs shaking as you came. A sudden gush of wetness sprayed out of you, soaking their skin, the floor, everything. Your body trembled with each pulse, barely able to stay upright as they kept moving inside you, drawing out every last drop.

And then they both groaned, deep and guttural. Their cocks twitched as they came inside you together, hot and thick, and you felt it fill you.

They slowed to a stop, panting. No one said a word for a moment, just the sound of heavy breathing echoing in the bathroom.

When they finally slipped out of you, you whimpered. Your walls fluttered at the sudden emptiness—sore and slowly adjusting after being stretched so full.

Your legs wobbled, knees giving a little, and Bob caught you in his arms, strong but gentle.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, a little breathless. “I got you…”

You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt it—hot cum slipping down your thighs in sticky trails, making you shiver. Your cheeks burned at the thought that both of them had filled you. Their cum, thick and warm, still leaking out of your swollen cunt.

John’s eyes dropped to where it dripped between your legs, then slowly dragged back up to your face. He groaned under his breath.

“Messy little thing.”

And then—with perfect timing—the showerhead sputtered, then kicked on, water pouring steadily.

John announces, gruffly, “Shower works now.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still trembling.

Bob tightened his arms around you, nuzzling into your hair. “We should, um, probably test the water temperature. See if it’s all good.”

You smiled against his chest, the thought of another round already making your thighs clench. “Yeah… just to make sure.”

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part 2

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(i originally posted this on my other blog, but i decided to make a separate blog for fics)

[lollypopunicorn14]

Your prayers won't save you 🕊

Pairing: Priest Bob Reynolds x Disowned Nun Fem Reader x Demon John Walker 

Wordcount: 15.9K (Sorry not Sorry)

Authors Note: Okay. Technically this is a sequel to this already filthy SentryAgent piece (Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.) I just couldn't hold my religious trauma back and extended it to an x Reader fic (OC please don’t stone me). If you want to understand the dynamics between Bob and John I recommend reading the “first part” again. 

Warnings: John, Smut, Pre-Established SentryAgent kinda Relationship, Lots and Lots of religious trauma and unhealthy copying mechanisms, Reader has been taken advantage of in the past, heavy past misogyny, physical punishment, attempts of suicide, selfharm, blood, prayers, yes the themes are really heavy but Bob is a total sweetheart towards reader and so is John (in his own ways), did i mentioned the filthy smut? (If i didnt go to hell for the first part this one will do, at least I will have it warm) 

@buckywouldbeproud Thought tagging might seem appropriate giving the themes

@uzmacchiato thank you for the divider!

Small droplets of rain fall down the old and dirty windows. The wind howls through the cracks of the old wooden doors, it is not cold and still the weather lets you shiver. It didn't matter where you were in this old building. On this day John decided to pay Bob a visit. Even after all this time Bob couldn't figure out a rhythm so he was glad for every day, minute, second, except now. He has reread the words on the letter at least ten times by now yet the massage wouldn't sink in. 

"Shit."

"Hey, no swearing inside church." 

"Shut it John." Bob has to look for his glasses not believing what he just read, John hands them over to him. 

"The church, they are sending someone." John is not impressed, rather bored.

"They just want to know why you're still alive." 

"No John, someone permanent like me. A woman." 

"You make it sound as if they are sending a hangman."

"You know I don't mean it that way. Apparently her title as a nun was revoked."

"Oh wow, what did she do? Ate meat on a friday or cut her own hair?"

"Nymphomaniac behaviour." John's eyes shoot wide, his hands immediately grabbing the letter out of Bob's hand. 

"Now this is getting interesting."

"You will leave her alone. They are probably sending her here because of me. You know since I’m not interested in women at all."

"Who knows maybe she can change your mind, happens sometimes."

"There is no way in hell or heaven John." 

God's was Bob wrong, so god damn wrong. The day you arrived has been the hardest day in his life so far. 

It hurt how fearful you looked when you've been dropped off at the entrance with a single suitcase in hand. How your gaze was fixed on your feet, never daring to look at him directly, how you didn't dare to talk. 

On the other hand it gave him the opportunity to look at you fully more than once and what can he say? Your face has occupied his mind entirely, especially your eyes, brilliant as diamonds.Your figure, so soft yet he could see the baggage you are carrying.

When he showed you your room heavy guilt settled in his chest, firstly because your room had a clear view of the graveyard and second letting you sleep in those four walls knowing fully well that someone is up to no good here. 

"I apologize, the letter, it arrived only two days ago. We can switch if you want." 

You didn't seem to mind, you didn't seem to mind anything at all. You just let yourself fall on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing, your voice only a distant whisper. 

"Thank you father." When he closed the door behind him he lingers for a second listening to your sobs. From the first minute it was clear that the church lied to him, but it's not like that is something new. 

He was right at cooking dinner when he nearly dropped the spatula, a finger or rather something similar taps him on the shoulder. 

"And?" 

"Oh god damn it John!…you need a bell or something."

"Did she already pushed you against a wall to suck you off or tried to jump your-"

"John, leave it. They lied."

"Shocking. So, can I?" He wriggles his eyebrows, smile as devilish as ever.

"I beg you, please leave her alone."

"Oh you're begging already?"

Within the blink of an eye Bob is pushed down to his knees. Cheeks rosy, breaths short and John's relentless hand in his hair moving back and forth. 

"I will never get tired of you, you god damn cry baby." With more strength than usual Bob is capable of bringing some distance between him and John's cock. 

"Be quiet or she will hear us."

"And we can't have that, can we?" With a rough push Bob is back all the way at the thick base, his nose brushed in John's hair. 

"Dont spill anything. She will see it on your robe, maybe you should start wearing the white one more." While John comes deep down Bob's throat his hands hold his face in place. 

You're so occupied with your own thoughts that you don't notice how Father Reynold's voice is a little raspy and that he has to cough from time to time.  

"Since it's your first night here I thought dinner in bed would be nice." You don't move one inch, don't look at him, again your words are short and soft. 

"Thank you father."

You don't touch the food, just the thought of it nearly lets you throw up. At some point you change into your nightwear, shutting off all the lights. To your luck, sleep takes over you fast. 

You don't even remember the dream when you wake up. All you know is that you're shaking everywhere, your chest heaving unnaturally. 

The sun already perks so you get ready. You're kneeling in front of the altar repeating your prayers when Father Reynolds finally joins you. 

"Good morning sister." Your eyes stay focused and the statue in front of you. "I am not a nun anymore, father."

"You skipped breakfast." It wasn't really the fact that you skipped breakfast that can happen. It was the fact that he saw that you didn't eat anything from dinner he brought you yesterday. 

Still you say nothing lost in prayers keeping your mind distracted. 

"And how was sleep? Any nightmares?" The way he asks with such certainty in his voice as if he already knew the answer is what stops. 

"The bed is good," You swallow hard and hope that he will not ask for a further explanation. "It makes up for the nightmares." To your luck he doesn't poke still you can see from the corner of your eyes that his expression changes. His body seems more tense than before and you're sure he is grinding his teeth. 

"Did I say something wrong father?" That pulled him out of whatever he was thinking about his eyes going soft at your question.  

"Everything is alright sister." 

"Stop that please, we both know I am no longer-"

"Do you want to be one?" You think, not because you are questioning yourself rather because there is a chance that he is simply taunting you, still you nod. 

"Then that's what you will be at least here, I don't care what the church says."

It is a drop in the sea your heart blooms nevertheless, sadly that is the kindest thing everyone has ever done for you in a long time. You bring yourself to look at him and you regret it immediately. His blue eyes shine back at you with a devotion you have never seen before. Maybe you're just imagining things again so you focus your gaze back on the rosary in your hand. 

"Thank you Father Reynolds."

"It's Bob to you."

"But-" Again you swallow, not wanting to argue with him, it could be worse, there could be so much worse than calling him by his first name. You thought everything was said and done but he continues. 

"You and I will hold mass together this Sunday." 

"I don’t think that is a good idea. The people will talk." The trembling in your voice is involuntary but you can't do anything about it; the idea just doesn't sit right with you. You are here to be useful and regret your sins, service is for people who are faithful. 

Yet again not only his eyes but his whole face turns meek, something you don’t deserve. “Do you believe me when I say that the people in this town are rather, let's say, open minded.” You look back at him, he is smiling from ear to ear and his words sound so honest, how can you not believe him?

--------------

You don't know what has gotten into you but somehow you find yourself outside, looking up to the window of your own room. If you already have that great view of the cemetery, then it's the only right thing to do to at least take a quick look at it. Leaving short, well-meant prayers for the deceased. The cold temperatures make sure that your teeth tremble just as much as your hands. You're strolling mindlessly until your eyes get stuck on one tombstone.

-Father Miller beloved member of the church Born* 1931 Died 1955*-

You speak your prayer and think nothing to it, that is until you're halfway through the row which is longer than all the previous ones. All of them died within a two-year span of each other. You take a deep breath, curiosity gets the best of you so you keep walking and when you reach the last one you freeze. 

-Father Preston beloved member of the church Born 1980 Died*... 

"Oh my god." You take a step back mind racing "one and a half years ago", again you pray hands pressing together as if it could bring any of them back. 

"Oh trust me, they don’t deserve your prayers sister." You squeak, every hair on your arms and neck stands up, you look around to find that you're alone.

"Father Reynolds?"  Nothing except a single crow decides to fly from its nest, over your head and all the way in the adjacent small woods. The crack of a branch gets your attention back, your breathing goes up rapidly and becomes painfully audible in your ear when you notice it from the corner of your eyes. A shadow, lurking, when it starts moving just the tiniest bit you don’t run, you fly. Away from the graveyard back inside the church, a pain in your chest and something solid stops you, hands holding you in place by your shoulders. 

"Hey, hey is everything alright?" You look like a startled animal, your eyes needing a few seconds before they can process that it is just Bob in front of you. 

You should tell him, you should just tell him what happened, what you saw but you don't. Too scared of that he may judge you or worse, declares you as insane.

"I- I just thought I heard a bear. Outside. In the woods." He lets go of your shoulders and takes a step back, scanning you from head to toe which causes you to shift from one foot to the other.

"You have dirt on your habit, you should go change." You look down on yourself, he is right. Did you fall over at some point? You don't remember but you are relieved by his proposition, so relieved that your words are a little too light for the way your face looks. 

"Pardon me, you are right, I will go change, right now." Without further question he lets you pass.

The same night at 2 am you're strolling around making your way to the kitchen hoping that some tea will help you fall asleep, however you come to stop a good four feet away from the kitchen hiding in a small niche because not only do you hear Bob talking, you hear another voice too. 

"I told you to stay away from her."

"Bobby I am telling you this only one more time, I didn't go near her. I gave you a promise."

Bobby? That sounds pretty intimate, your heart starts to race, you definitely shouldn't be here.

"I didn't cause her any nightmares and with the graveyard... Well technically I was far away from her." Bob has his arms crossed, tapping his foot slightly. 

"Could it be that you want to keep her to yourself?"

"To myself? John, what the hell are you talking about?" 

"I can see the way your eyes soften when you talk about her. I can see how your breath hitches, hear how your heart jumps." You couldn't hear or see any of this though, this John decided to change to a low whisper. What you can in fact hear is Bob's response. 

"Fuck off!" You couldn't even imagine that he is capable of screaming so full of rage. It lets you jump back and while doing so you knock over the vase which ultimately shatters on the ground. You freeze in your spot, sweat already forming on your forehead. When he comes out of the kitchen and looks at you, the scene, you feel like a deer in headlights.

"You’re still awake?"

You don't answer his question, rather you brabble, close to tears. "I’m- I’m sorry, the vase I- I buy a new one I promise."

He rubs his chin, his stubbles giving off a light buzz, he blinks rapidly. The fact that he can see a single tear roll over your cheek is what gets him moving. He is at your side gently placing his hand on your shoulder. 

"Dont worry about it, we don't cry over belongings here." He guides you to the kitchen and onto one of the chairs. 

"Lavender or chamillion?" How does he know you're here for tea? Well how are you supposed to know that not so long ago he was nearly in the same position as you and besides that the bags under your eyes tell the story altogether.  

"Chamillion, please." While the kettle boils the water and Bob is busy looking through the cupboards your head is racing. Should you ask him? Mention that you heard him talking to someone? Then you remember it is in the middle of the night, you haven't eaten since your arrival here. Again you come to the conclusion that you were simply imagining things.

"You don't have to keep doing that."

"What do you mean?" 

"You don't have any real responsibilities here. I appreciate your work but really. You can sleep in as long as you need."

"Father I-"

"It's Bob, remember? When did you have to wake up back at the conventual?"

"4:30." He chokes on his tea and yeah it genuinely makes you laugh. Not loud, not exaggerated but laugh nonetheless. 

"That is down right cruel. Don't worry too much, it's not like we're drowning in work here." 

It helped. You still fall asleep late after midnight but with no pressure behind it you can bring yourself to sleep in till at least seven.

On Sunday to say you were amazed would have been an underestimation. The way Bob stands on the pulpit so sure and certain with his verses. How he preaches about forgiveness and love. No mention of punishment or eternal doom, just hope. 

The only thing that irritates you is that sometimes his head moves too suddenly, his eyes scan throughout the church as if he is looking for someone? You shake it off, it's not worth spiraling. 

After mass you inspect the pews if someone has forgotten something. To your suprise you find a single wool glove. 

"Oh dear, that's mine." You stumble right in her direction. 

"Here Ms, let me help you put it back on." The elderly woman slowly raises her hand up from her walker and carefully you cover her fingers first and then the rest of her hand.

"And we're done Ms, ready to beat the temperatures."

"Oh you are such a lovely dear. It's Ms Mitchell to you darling." 

"Its nice to know you, Ms Mitchell." You feel a presence behind you. 

"Its good to see you Ms Mitchell."

"Oh Father Reynolds, your speech was lovely today and your new recruit here is just as charming as you." 

You want to clear things up. That you're definitely not a recruit, not even remotely close but Bob's hand lands on your upper back, the touch so light you forget what you wanted to say.  

"I’m glad you enjoyed today's mass. Please excuse us, we have work to do."

"Of course dear, till next sunday." Bob gives her an approving nod and turns the two of you around. 

"See, I told you the people here are nice." 

"Then why didn't you let me talk to her longer?"

"Ms Mitchell is special." That's all you got from him. Secretly he is scared that she knows stuff she isn't supposed to so he would rather not let her talk to you that much. 

Afterwards you walk around looking for tasks. You notice that Bob forgot to take his clothes out of the dryer. Not wanting to invade his personal space you just shove it all in the basket and carry it to his room. 

You knock but he is not in there. Shyly you open the door, basically sprinting to the bed and placing the basket on the neatly made sheets. You didn't mean to sniff around and yet here you are. 

Your fingers gliding over the wooden headboard. Deep and long cuts all over it. Then your eyes wander just a little behind and find a spot where the white is brighter than anywhere else on the wall. You don't hear him coming, when he clears his throat you are about to pass out.

"What are you doing in here?"

You thought he would take you to his office, instead you’re standing in the kitchen now. It doesn't matter, the anticipation eats you alive. He sits down and genuinely expects you to do the same, what you're doing next instead catches him completely off guard. 

You don't even think about it, to you it is second nature and the only plausible reaction to what you just did. You throw yourself at him bending over his knees. When you start pulling up the skirt of your habit is when he stops you. 

"Sister, what are you doing?" 

"I-I didn't eat properly, I broke the vase, I sniffed around in your room. You have to punish me." It takes him long to fully understand what you just said, what you now expect from him.

"No, I'm not doing that." He yanks you upward, his hands a firm grip on your wrist. You can not escape him, not his grip or his eyes and somehow you don't want to. 

"We don't do punishment here." 

"But I-" Your cheeks start to burn, your chest tightens and a thick lump forms in your throat. 

Since he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable he lets go of you. Your chest tightens some more, your heartbeat gets more and more rapid by the second, he wants to say something but your body chooses flight this time. 

You lock yourself inside your room. You take off your habit, the fabric suddenly feels too thick. The water from your shower hits your skin like needles and only when your lips start to shake you turn it off. 

Tucked in, hands folded over the bedsheets, it only takes around five minutes until you're burning again. You start to whine in agony not knowing what to do. You start to hate Bob for it.

Why couldn't he just punish you as you deserved to take away your sins instead of letting you lay in your bed, bathing in your own unholy thoughts. 

Unlike you, Bob knows what to do, that doesn't mean he's not feeling guilty about it. He retreated to his own room, discharged his clothes to the floor, his hand now fisting his incredible hard cock, the other covering his mouth. 

His mind went back a few minutes. How willingly you throw yourself at him. How warm your body felt in his lap. The soft skin of yours. He gets lost in it and doesn't stop, not even when John appears in front of him. 

"Pathetic." 

"You’re just-fuck-you’re just jealous." 

"What should I be jealous about?"

"That she has consumed my mind."

John hums and steps closer, then he spreads himself tearing Bob's hand away, replacing it with his own. The rather harsh gesture causes Bob to arch off the bed. 

"Oh fuck John."

"As long as you scream my name I don't care. Have your fun, I know you're not manly enough to actually do something." With a hard push Bob’s back hits the mattress, cheeks flushed, tongue sticking out just the slightest

John knows when Bob is close, so his big hand covers his mouth with more pressure than necessary. He licks the mess clean afterwards as a weak excuse to watch Bob a little longer. 

The same night John has enough. When Bob gets so easily fluttered by you he has to know, has a right to know what you're up to and so he waits. He waits until you're deep asleep. He just wants a peek, a glimpse of what your nightmares are about but he can't. 

He approaches you out of a dark corner. Your chest is rising and falling at a concerning rate, his mouth still falls open. With your white nightgown, your mouth slightly agape and he can't do anything. 

You have a mark. He thought those were extinct and yet you have it. It is not enough for you to want him, no. You have to give him permission, you have to say it out loud, clear and certain. 

He breathes heavy through his nose, his hands ball into fits his teeth fletching. He feels betrayal in his chest, the deep growl he presses through his teeth is what lets you jolt up. 

You freeze, your pulse audible in your ear even though your room is only illuminated by the weak light of the moon you see someone standing in the corner.

A shadow, lurking at you again. With trembling fingers you turn on your bedside lamp without looking. 

You're not sure if you feel relieved or not that nobody looks back at you. Nonetheless you can not bring yourself to turn off the light so it stays on for the rest of the night. 

The next morning is unpleasant. It seems as he waits for you when you enter the kitchen, your stomach is a paid actor at this moment. 

"So you still haven't eaten anything proper since you came here?" You shake your head in a shameful no.

"Sit." And you do, observing his every movement while he prepares breakfast. It is actually the first time ever that you see a man doing some cooking in the kitchen. 

The steam and the smell from the plate hits you with full force and you have to suppress a gag. 

"Eat." You give him your best puppy eyes but he is relentless. 

"Eat, one bite each." Simply because you don't want to disappoint him you do as you're told. You start with a small bite from the toast, then the scrambled eggs and then the beacon. You make it to repeat this circle three times, you put your fork to the side. 

"Good. You did good. You should be proud of yourself." 

You swallow down the remaining food and he takes the plate away. You're pleased with yourself and it shows, you hope it stays where it's supposed to.

What you weren't prepared for was that he would suddenly put your hand in his, the other shooting to your cheek forcing you to look at him, he already knows you way too well. 

"Listen to me okay? Whatever happened in the past, it will not happen here. No one-I will not hurt you. No one will lay a finger on you if you don’t want it."

As sudden as he hands were on you they were gone and you can't deny that you wished for them to stay where they were. 

He stands up and attempts to leave but you stop him halfway. 

"It hurts. It hurts that you didn't punish me. So, if I asked you to do it, would you?"

"I beg you, please don't."

"I can’t live without it. It's all I ever knew." 

Bob's heart breaks not in two even parts but in a million little pieces. A few minutes later you're both in his office and you're over his knees. Your skirt is still down at your ankles. 

How could he say no? Him of all people, who knows exactly what it feels like. How your skin burns begging for release and your mind only able to calm afterwards. 

You're squirming under him and it drives him insane and still he keeps it together because of you. He wants you to learn how to let go of it, from punishment, from the past. 

"Don’t forget to read out loud, sister." 

Your grip on the page of the bible you're holding onto intensifies. 

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come." 

Bob lands a smack on your ass and it leaves you confused to say the least. It felt more like a slight tap.

"Excause me father but I don’t think that was hard enough." Bob takes a deep breath before launching the next. This time your body reacts and still it feels different, it feels wrong.

"The old has gone, the new is here." 

He has a hard time keeping the pressure but he manages so far. 

"All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation."

When you're done reading you are breathless and worse you don't feel the relief that normally greets you after. You remember some of your last punishments and realize the difference.

Bob is not angry with you, his hand only hurt you because you asked for it, his mind is not cooperating. 

When you look back you find confirmation, his own eyes wet, regret written all over his face. 

"I hope there won't be a next time, then you need to find someone else to do this."

The whole day you're restless it just wasn't enough it didn't bring you the satisfaction you needed, you're not blaming Bob. You should be grateful that he showed you mercy but you can’t.

That night you're sitting on the edge of your bed, hands on your scalp pulling until it hurts still it is not enough, it never is. 

"Poor thing, couldn't Father Reynolds give you what you need?" You flinch violently, head tuning left to right but you see no one. Despite thinking your mind is playing tricks to you, you answer, hysteria prominent in your voice. 

"Go away whatever you are!" 

"But I can make it disappear. Didn't Father Reynolds say you should find someone else?"

You take a deep breath. You're just imagining this anyway right? Bob gave you permission right? Your voice becomes as small as usual.

"And you promise you won't hurt me any other way?"

"I promise you I will only hurt you as long and as much as you want."

"O-okay." 

"I need to hear it."

"Hurt me, take my sins away, please."

The pause is so long that you question if the conversation if you can call it that was even real. 

"Get on your hands and knees for me sister." 

You do as you're told when you feel the mattress dip behind you panic paralyzes you. 

"Remember I am doing this because you want it. Do you have something left to say?"

"To the Lord our God belong mercy and forgiveness, for I have rebelled against him, I beg for my sins to be forgiven." 

The first hit is already intense, no build up, no warning. The tears shoot into your eyes immediately and a sob escapes you. 

"Shh poor thing, you don't want Father Reynolds to hear you, right?" 

No you don't, you bury your face in the pillow, hoping that it is thick enough to smother your whines who turn into sobs and ultimately into cries. 

The hand is unyielding, unforgiving and cold. You don't know how long or how many but at some point your body surrenders no more attempts of squirming away, no more sounds coming out of your mouth. 

Short before passing out from the impact and the exhaustion you feel your body getting gently pressed onto the mattress and the blanket pulled over until you're covered entirely. 

The next morning your body shoots up and a sign of relief leaves your lungs. It was just a dream, a sick and twisted dream. That is until you try to stand up and a sting of pain shoots through you. 

The next few days you're lost in your thoughts completely confused and disgusted by yourself. 

-------------

You want to confront Bob in the kitchen but something stops you. The radio is playing louder than usual. Bob moves his head to the beat of the ongoing song. 

"Wouldnt have guessed that's your kind of music."

"Well the version I listened to when I was younger was slower." 

"Oh yeah, it must have been hard for you to serve in two world wars in a row." 

He grabs your hand so suddenly you jolt at the touch. He spins you around and pulls you close then takes a step forward and you bump into him, nearly stepping on his foot.

"Sorry I don't know how to dance." 

"Dont worry too much about it." And how can you really? With his hand on your back and a smile so genuine and assuring. For the 2 remaining minutes and 27 seconds everything the world seems to stop. For the first time you feel nothing but weightlessness, he spins you around from time to time, you even sway your hips a little, he makes you laugh. When the song’s over and the weather for the next week gets announced all of this is gone before it could really start. 

You both come to a halt, dangerously close to one another. You can see every little stubble of his beard, some of them going silver already, the few crows feet peeking at the corner of his eyes. You wonder if this really comes from his age or from whatever happened to him in the past. 

His gaze dropped to the floor, his arms leaving your body and you remember why you came here in the first place. 

"I came here to apologize. I will never ask you to do something like this again."

"Because you don't want to or because you don't want me to do it?" 

You honestly don't know. So you leave, keeping his question unanswered. 

The days drag on and you start to feel as if you are going insane for real. It began small. You place a water bottle on the kitchen counter next your reaching out for it and it's gone, same for the plate you have sworn you already put on the table. You don't tell Bob of course. 

Then one evening you go through your drawers. You have exactly fifteen panties plus the one you're wearing, none in the washer and still you only count ten. 

Hidden under the blankets your mind wanders. Bob would never do that, right? He wouldn't... "Yeah that's right pretty girl, our sweet innocent Priest would never do that but I would."

The light is on before you can fully process what just happened. You weren't imagining someone was talking to you, you're sure but to your horror nobody except you is in your room. 

"You're looking for me huh? Miss me that much already?"

You look around still nobody, you open your mouth nevertheless. 

"Who- who is there?"

No answer. You open the drawer of your bedside table to pull out the rosary clinging to it for dear life. 

"The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore."

After you finished your prayer you thought it was over. Then the room falls dark without you shutting off the lamp. A loud and ugly scratch echoes through the room. Nails on wood.  

"Your little prayers won’t save you, pretty girl."

You don't know when you don't know how but you're standing in the doorframe of Bob's room now. You breathe and breathe yet no air seems to end up in your lungs. Your face is covered in sweat just as the ends of your hair. 

"Hey, everything's fine. You're with me now. You are safe here okay?" 

With your head rested on his chest and his smell filling your nose you actually start to calm down. One of his hands gently finds his way under your chin.

"Tell me what happened."

"Nightmare." You hate yourself for how easy it is for you to lie to him. He knows you're lying and it hurts but he is not pushing, instead he guides you to his bed and leaves. 

In your room he goes straight for the bed to grab your blanket muttering under his breath.

"We had an agreement John."

"It's not my fault you humans are so easily scared. Be grateful, she's in your bed now, do something about it." 

"You know I would never-"

"Would you really, Bobby?" 

When Bob comes back he looks like he aged ten years. 

"I- I can leave I don’t want to cause you any trouble-"

"I don't think you're capable of doing that."

Even with the both of you laying under your individual blankets it feels too close, too intimate. Your mind is racing the whole time, not able to think about sleep. 

"You're still awake?"

You hum. 

"You're scared?"

Again you hum but this time he doesn't use words. His hand grabs your arm and before you know it you're under his blanket, on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. You don't exactly know why but somehow you're gone in an instant. This is the best night you had since you came here but it comes with a price you will have to pay the next day. 

-------------

"I shouldn't have fallen asleep next to you, that was inappropriate."

He is not even looking up from his newspaper just enjoying his tea. 

"I invited you into my room, into my bed. It was me who did the improper thing, not you." 

"It doesn't matter, he watches all of us and he judges me."

"And what can one judge about you getting some well-deserved sleep?" He's got you here, you're at a loss for words you decide to stay silent. 

Then he looks at you with an intensity that nearly knocks you off your feet. 

"You can come to my room anytime, everything that's mine is yours."

You offer a polite smile and while your heart blooms there is only one word in your head loud and clear. "Whore"

You make it through the day without him noticing that you are on the edge, that your mind screams while your mouth stays closed. 

Right before bed after your shower you're standing in front of the fogged mirror wrapped in your towel, nothing out of the ordinary. What is definitely not normal is that you're gripping the sink so hard that your knuckles dare to poke through your skin. You're hovering over it, dry cries pushing out of you. You don't want Bob to hear, don't want him to worry so you shove it down as good as you can. 

"Whore" "Whore" "Whore"

"Come on, is that really what you are?" 

Your eyes widen and you don't dare to turn around, someone is standing in your bathroom. 

"Oh don't worry I will keep every little secret if you want." You hear heavy footsteps, it is approaching you, a cold shadow takes over the small bathroom. Whoever or whatever this is can't be human. 

"Dont be scared, pretty girl. I will not hurt you, I just want to know who you are." It sounds more like a hiss, almost supernatural.

"Go-go away in the name of- of the father the-the son and the holy-holy spirit". The laugh vibrates so deep you feel it everywhere from the tip of your ears down to the ends of your toes. 

He comes closer, you feel a cold breath in your neck. Every cell in your body freezes. 

"Oh but I already told you. Your sweet little prayers won't save you." 

Without thinking you glide your arm over the mirror and goosebumps shoot through you, all air that's left gets stuck in the back of your throat.

Eyes as dark as the night and sharp fangs look back at you, you completely ignore the cocky nearly smile that's playing on his lips. All remaining rational thoughts leave your head, you grab the glass that normally holds your toothbrush and throw it against the mirror. 

You shield yourself with your arms and stumble to the ground. You take one piece from the mirror and bring it right to your exposed arm. If the devil himself is looking for you, you can just give in already. 

You start too far above then you go deeper, your head feels dizzy after the third cut. You watch the blood drip over your arm down to the floor; It simply takes too long. You never did this before so how could you know? 

You were sure you locked the door and still it flings open and hits the wall behind it. The last thing you see before you pass out is Bob's terrified expression and how he lunges towards you. 

While your recovering literal hell breaks loose after Bob took care of your injuries he made sure you're all covered and cozy in his bed, now you're just sleeping. If you don't wake up until the sun rises he will drive you to the nearest hospital. Right now he takes care of another problem. He is pacing in your room like a madman while John just sits there on the chair staring at the ground. 

"John, I swear to god and everything that's holy," He is way too calm and composed. "I always let you do what you want with me and I asked you for this one thing," He pinches the back of his nose, voice cracking mid sentence "John? Was it really too much to ask for that you leave her alone?"

"Shit I’m sorry, okay?!" The chair gets thrown, hitting the wall. "If I could have touched her she wouldn't have shattered this damn mirror to begin with." 

"What do you mean with 'If'?" 

"Fuck, I can’t touch her. I can't even look inside her head without her allowing me."

Bob says nothing, raising a single eyebrow expecting John to explain further.

"She has one of those old marks. They get passed through generations, it's probably as old as me. Some religious bullshit."

"John, she tried to fucking kill herself!"

"Yes she did and I triggered her okay? Do you know what played in her mind the whole day? It was so loud... I shouldn't have been able to hear it but I did."

"What was it?"

"Whore". I heard it the whole fucking day just because you let her sleep next to you. Did she ever tell you anything about herself? Did she open up to you?" Bob doesn't want to admit it but John is right. 

"No."

"So if we really want to help her we need to know what's wrong and if she can’t talk about it maybe I-"

"I don't like this idea." On the contrary Bob hates it yet the fact that you need to give John permission for everything makes the idea a little more bearable. 

"Fuck I’m sorry okay. I didn't want to hurt her, at least not that way and you know that." John takes a step towards Bob who stays right where he is, arms crossed, avoiding eye contact. 

"Yes, I know." John pulls him into a tight hug and starts kissing his neck. 

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me."

"John stop, you need to apologize to her, not me." 

"You first." Without Bob being able to protest John pushes him onto the bed. A few seconds later the room fills with John's sucking and Bob's moans and for the first time ever Bob actually starts to pull at John's hair. Not gentle, no holding back, he straight up pushes him down on his cock and John lets him. 

-------------

Your head feels heavy just as the rest of your body. For a few seconds it is difficult to make out where you are then you realize you're in Bob's room, in his bed. On your arm a clean gauze reminding you of what you did. You're right at standing up when the door opens. 

"Back, immediately."

With him hovering over you the guilt becomes too much. 

"I’m so sorry. Please don't be mad at me. I don't know what possessed me to-"

"God how could I ever be mad at you."

He makes sure that you drink enough water, then he feeds you some soup and your body starts to feel better. 

You expect him to ask you why but he doesn't instead he pulls up his sleeves revealing healed scares a lot of them. Some come from something sharp; the ones on his inner elbow are small circle shaped. You need a few seconds to understand. 

"You know my dad liked to use the words of the lord as an excuse. I looked for a way out, there is a reason why it's called temptation. At first it was just weed, then alcohol but it was never enough."

"Bob…I’m so sorry."

"Don't be. I just want you to know that you are not alone." You want to return the favour, you want to tell him everything, you really do but you can't. The shame sits so deep and has anchored itself somewhere between your heart and your ribs. Your silence tells him everything he needs to know. 

It takes some time to recover. The day you finally start to feel better Bob hits you with the most gut wrenching news.

"I have to leave for a week."

"What? Why?"

"The church wants a report."

"And you have to come in person for that?" The reason is that they can't believe that Bob is still very much alive but he can't tell you that so he shrugs it off. 

"Think you can do it?" 

It's not like you have a choice anyway. 

"Can I sleep in your room while you're gone?" 

"What do you think?" 

As you watch him get smaller in the distance the nervousness creeps up to you faster than you thought it would. The church looks even bigger now. Every room feels larger, there are shadows everywhere and noises that let you jump from time to time, the church is old. This is normal, you reason with yourself as best as you can. 

Over the day everything seems fine but when the sun slowly disappears and the darkness takes over you become relentless finding excuse after excuse to not go to bed. 

It is no use. You decide to lock the doors to the empty rooms, the front and the backdoor too. 

Now you’re in Bob's room setting the fireplace alight, it feels unnaturally cold in those walls for the fact that it is still just the beginning of October. You listen to the ticking of the clock, the uneven creak of the wooden floor, that is until it is not uneven anymore. 

The shrill scream that comes out of your mouth is loud enough that it is painful in his ears. 

"Please stop, I just came here to talk."

Next you're up and your hand flies precisely over his face. 

"Whatever you are, leave me alone." You grab the crucifix you put on your nightstand as preparation you lift it up as if you would stab him with it. He actually takes a step back. Then he turns his head  and stares at the fire and if you would have declared yourself as insane already you could swear he shakes just the tiniest bit.

The fire goes out and the room falls into nearly complete darkness.

It is still bright enough that you can see the smirk on his face. His hand glides over where you just hit him. 

"Wouldn't have guessed that you can be that feisty."

He moves his arms like he is trying to calm down a feral animal. "I just want to apologize, Bobby would never let me hear the end of it if I don't." 

Oh he knows exactly what he is doing. Your expression falters and a smug grin forms on his face.

"Yes dear, maybe your precious Father Reynolds is not as innocent as you thought." While talking he carefully comes closer to you and you flinch, your hip hitting the nightstand. 

"He would- he would never."

"Do you remember how his voice changed the day of your arrival, that he talked to someone in the kitchen you couldn't see? The scratches on the headboard?"

He can see on your face that finally everything falls into place. You lower your hands. "You’re John."

"All the points to you pretty thing and as I said earlier I came here to apologize. I didn't mean to scare you, at least not that much. See Bobby and I we both worry about you-" 

"No you don’t, none of you! I don't know what kind of sick game this is but I’m not playing anymore." You're short before lashing out at him. You wonder if you could hit him hard enough with the crucifix to actually hurt him. 

"If I remember correctly it was you who asked me to punish you. Ain’t that right?"

"That- that was you? I thought it was- I thought it was a dream."

"Yes that was me and you're not fooling anyone, there is no denying that you found a certain liking in it."

Whatever fight you had in you a few seconds ago is gone. Numbness becomes present in your body starting in your chest. You let yourself slump into the edge of the bed. Your chin slowly starts to tremor and tears build behind your eyelids.

"Dont you want it to go away? The guilt, the shame?" 

You nod.

"Then let me see it and take it away from you." 

"What- what do you mean?" 

"You just have to say that you want it. You have to want it." 

"Then do it. I want you to look at it. I need someone to understand. I need someone to see and tell me I am not guilty."

At first John is not sure who he is looking at until he realizes that it is you at the age of five maybe. You just pushed a boy into the sandpit because he pulled at your hair. A woman forcefully pulled you away "Girls don't do that." 

Next your older, third grade says the sign to the classroom. You're standing at your teacher's desk telling her that one of the boys constantly teases you by pulling at the hem of your skirt. "Boys show their affection that way, he probably has a crush on you sweets." 

Then, on your own birthday, thirteen candles on the cake, you blow them out and find yourself in the kitchen later, drying the dishes. "Mom why are the boys allowed to watch tv and I’m not, it's my birthday." "You can watch when you're finished with your chores." 

You're not much older now sitting on the edge of your bed, right next to you a boy your age. He comes close to your face while you only seem confused. "What are you doing?" He gives you a dirty smirk "Come on everybody is doing it." "But you're my best friend?" "See we're just friends helping each other out." You nod and give him silent permission to kiss you, of course he can not keep his hands by himself. When he touches your breast you push him away "Oh come on don’t be a prude now." Then your father bursts in, the boy is gone. "You filthy whore did you let him touch you?" You plead with him but your words fall on deaf ears. Your fathers belt leaves some deep bruises on your skin, John's heart stings, he has seen this before.

Next you're older. You're hastily packing a suitcase, more focused on photos and other sentimental stuff than clothes. Your parents storm in. "Where do you think you're going, young lady?" "Away from here, I will not marry this man." You father grabs you by your upper arm face deep red. "If you're leaving now you're dead to us." "I was never allowed to be alive in this house anyway!"

John needed a short break. Yes the world changed over the centuries and still it seemed it stayed the same. 

Now you're at the nunnery and for the first time you look happy, that didn't last long. He needs a second to figure out where he has to go. He stands outside the office listening. 

"Sister, you're doing an excellent job around here, the other nuns should look up to you."

"Thank you Bishop Razhal!" Oh the excitement in your voice hurts. 

"You know. I actually chose you because you are the most deserving." 

"Choose me for what bishop?"

"Do you want to feel him? The holy spirit, our saviour?" 

You were so innocent you believed that man you really thought he meant well you really thought he would bring you closer to god. 

When John steps into the scene your eyes are fixed on the ceiling, clearly dissociating. 

"Show me his face." You tilt the man's head so John can look at him, your eyes never leaving the ceiling. 

Then two other men enter the room unannounced, they aren't shocked they rather seem bugged by what they just witnessed. John looks at them, burning their images in his brain. 

Then he is back in the here and now. You're crying heavily. 

"Do you let me hold you?" You nod. 

"I need to hear it."

"Please hold me John." 

Whatever his plans were for the night they are gone. He will hold you as long as you need it, as long you let him.

"I should have just said no. Why didn't I say no?"

John needs to brace himself for his next words so they don't come off wrong. "I highly doubt that would have stopped him."

John thought it wasn't possible and still your crying intensifies but so does his hold on you. "Let me show you something now, as a trade."

You look up at him not being able to point out his intention through your tears, nonetheless you give in. 

"Show me."

Next you're standing outside, you look up and you're met with a beautiful night sky but a distant smell creeps into your nose, burned wood. You start to walk without thinking that is before you see him. Tied to an elevated wooden post, more wooden sticks and locks stacked around. He looks like he regrets nothing of whatever brought him in this situation, then you start to hear voices all around you. 

"I hope he burns in hell forever." "Such a shame he was always so helpful." "His poor wife, they should have cut his unholy hands off." "Bastard." "Devil." And between all those thoughts there is the same one coming from two different people. "Please forgive me John, this is all my fault."

The sickening smell of burned flesh fills the night, then you hear him scream. He tried to bite it down but how could he while the flames eat him alive. Right before it can get too much you're back. Choking on your tears and sobs once again. 

There is no need for words, your grip on his tightens and so does his on you until exhaustion knocks you out. The next morning he is gone but for once your chest feels not as heavy as usual. 

You're counting the days now everything went just fine. On the night of your sixth day you thought it was over. Bob would be back tomorrow and anything would go back to normal. John hadn't shown up since that night. Why should he now? Well you would soon find out. 

There he stands in the barely illuminated room, you haven't lit the fireplace since his last visit. The ends of his blond hair are covered in red, the same as the ends of his beard. The upper part of his white shirt is soaked. 

"John, why are you covered in blood?" 

He crawls into the bed staining the white sheets, Bob’s sheets. 

"John for gods-sake whose blood is that?!" He stops and rests on his heels. Suddenly you feel hot, burning as if you're trapped in purgatory. 

"I took care of them as an apology."

"What do you mean with them…? Oh god John!"

"But this was only the first part. For the second part I need your permission, pretty girl." 

"For what?"

"Unlike this bastard I’m not going to lie to you. I can't bring you closer to god but I can show you something so much better." You should say no, this time you should say no however you start to question it. You will never be a nun in the eyes of the church again, they will never forgive you for what you didn't do. So for the first time in your life you make room for the idea to do something just for you, for your own enjoyment and maybe even pleasure. 

"You can touch me John."

He waits to see if you take it back instead you repeat it loud and clear. 

"Touch me John, please-." You definitely don't have to say it a third time. The blanket is gone before you finish the sentence completely. 

For a second he just looks then with a little hesitance he touches your hip under your nightgown and whatever was left of his restrained is gone. 

He lifts your leg up positioning himself between them. Then he attempts to pull your panties away but you stop him. 

"Wait, what are you doing?" 

"I promised you to make you feel good, do you doubt that?" You answer while you pull your hand away. Then you feel his cold breathe right over your sensitive spot. 

He licks over his teeth and you catch him grinning at you. You're still not sure if you are not looking right into the devils eyes.

"Ready to see heaven, pretty girl?" 

It's a rhetorical question because before you can answer he swallows you whole. The sensation is too much you could have never imagined that you're even capable of feeling like this. 

"Oh my god." 

"It's always the same, it's John, not God." He really thinks he is funny while you're basically dying under his touch. Your throat is raw after five minutes. 

"Do you want me to show it to you? Do you want to see what I did to them?" 

You shouldn't want it, you should be disgusted just by the implication of it and still you say yes.

The pictures in your head are as clear as day. The two men who accidently caught you and made sure that you would be sent away, he tore them apart with his claws. One had to watch the other, the fear eating him alive. He sank his teeth into Bishop Razhal's neck dragging him into the woods letting him bleed out, leaving him trembling in his own pool of blood.

"Relax for me, pretty girl, it will feel so good I promise." You doubt that this can get any better but he proves you wrong. You're adding new scratches to the headboard while screaming his name at the top of your lungs. 

It amuses him how fast you're falling asleep. After cleaning you up as good as possible and tugging you back under the blanket he leaves, considering his job done for tonight. 

When you wake up the next day everything feels so god-damn light. You want to go to the kitchen because your throat is as dry as the dessert but you don't have to. A bottle of water smiling at you from your nightstand. 

After you drowned nearly the whole bottle. You look down at the mess, the blood has dried so there is no way of cleaning your nightgown or the sheets. 

You don't care, falling back into the pillow that is something for later you have plenty of time at least so you think. Five minutes later you hear a car pulling into the driveway. The clock on the wall says it is already 3 pm. 

You go with the bedsheets first. You change them as fast as you can when you're closing the zipper of the last pillow you hear him coming through the front door. 

"I’m back!" 

He heads for his room and you freeze in your doing.

"Hey I’m- you're still in your sleepwear?"

"Hey Bobby, it's good to see you. Did everything go well?" 

The nickname slips out without you noticing but it catches him by suprise.

"You’re acting strange. Is- is that blood?"

You really don't want to play this card but you don't have another choice. 

"It is- It is my own blood please forgive me it came unexpected." Technically the last part isn't even a lie. "I took care of it, of your bed. I will go back to my own room." 

"You don’t have to ask me for forgiveness for something that happens naturally. Do you need anything?" 

"No no everything’s fine."

Of course ten minutes later he knocks at your door and comes in with hot chocolate, a hot-water bottle and painkillers. 

-------------

For the next few days you avoid him like the plague. The lightheartedness wore off quickly and you fell back into your old habits, your arms and legs looked like you've been attacked by a wolverine. 

On Sunday you had enough, you can not hold it any longer. When everyone else is gone you step into the confessional feeling like a lamb willing to place its head on the block.

But before you can speak, he takes the word.

"Sister, I want to make this a little different today." 

"Different father? How?" 

"You will listen to my sins first and if you think I am worthy of doing so you will forgive them." 

"But Father, I’m in no position to do so. I can’t-" 

"Yes you can and you might will."

"Then tell me father whatever it is you have to say." 

"Forgive me sister, I have sinned." "Nearly my whole life I have fought against who I am. Then I met someone, a man and I thought I finally found out what it is that makes me different and yes also less worthy in the eyes of god," He takes a deep shaking breath "but then a woman came into my life and I didn't question anything at all. I let it all flood me, I give in without a fight. I let the sin take over my mind and my body." 

You're sure the fabric of your skirt will rip any second. Your jaw is so clenched that it already starts to hurt. You murmur under your breath. 

"Fucking asshole."

"Excuse me, what was that sister?" You don’t mean Bob of course, you mean John. He didn't tell you that he and Bob were that close, again you've been lied to, at least this time you allow yourself to be angry about it. You try to keep it together, it still doesn't lessen your own sins. 

"Father it might be a sin that a man loves another man but the lord teaches us to love each other equally, you are forgiven. It is not shameful to yield to one's own mind, as long as it is not hurtful to others."

"Thank you sister for blessing me with your grace. I hope that you are listening to your own words. You can say what you have to say now."

"Father forgive me I have sinned." 

Bob is somewhat skeptical of that, he will listen anyway, not because it is his duty rather because he wants to. 

"Tell me your sins sister and let me take them away from you."

You let out a small huff knowing fully well that he is not capable of doing so. Your chin starts to quiver immediately while you try to keep your voice firm. "I let a man come into my room."

Bob's posture stiffens immediately. You hear him correcting his collar.  

"Please go on."

"I gave him permission to look inside me. I showed him everything and he held me afterwards." 

“And how did it feel, sister?” 

"It felt good father. It felt freeing."

"I can not take away a sin from you that simply isn't one sister." 

"There is more Father." You hear him uncrossing and crossing his legs again, his voice sounds urgent.  "Go on."

"He came back after six days. He avenged me, Father. He got rid of the men who wronged me. I relished in it, I savoured to see the men suffer." Now the dam broke tears fall down to the ground of the booth your voice starts to shake.

"I gave him permission to touch me and he devoured me, he showed me something I believe is the closest I will ever come to heaven. And I don't regret it Father, in fact I wish it to happen again, that is until recently. I didn’t know that-"

It gets silent for a second too long and you squirm in your seat. The door to his side opens first, then yours. 

"Come here." His words let you freeze, his voice as sharp as a knife. Normally Bob isn't like this, commanding or angry, you must have reached the end of his patience. 

"I said come here." He steps inside and reaches out for your wrist but you flinch, your back pressed against the wooden wall now. 

"I’m sorry if I crossed any lines… he never mentioned that you two were that close."

"That is not-." You both become aware now that the two of you are close, awfully close. Your nose is nearly brushing his, you feel his warm breath on your face. 

"I am not angry with you. I’m angry with him, that he stole you from me before I even… I envy him. That he's got to have you and I don't." 

"Envy is a sin father." He nods at you, his eyes locked on your lips. 

"What we are about to do is a sin too." Again he simply nods and next none of you are sure who closed the distance. 

His lips are so soft it's a crime. His hands work so gently on your face you practically melt into them. When he reaches for your neck you're gone. 

"Tell me what he did. Tell me what he did to you and let me be as good as." 

"He took off my panties." And so does Bob. 

"He went on his knees for me." And so does Bob not minding the hard ground. 

"He started slow only with the tip of his- oh god help me" 

Yes you can feel that Bob is not as experienced as John that doesn't change a thing. You become one with the chair, the thin walls of the booth do nothing to cover your moans. It's not helping that the door is wide open since the space is just too small for the both of you. 

To make matters worse a shadow beams over the two of you now. 

"Lazy." His voice lets the both of you wince. First he just stands there, arms crossed, head tilted, like the world belonged to him. 

"More pressure Bobby." The proximity was suffocating before now with John standing over Bob it is all consuming. 

He pushes Bob's head forward, his nose now buried in your folds, your hands fly to his hair searching for an anchor. He moans so deep the vibration alone nearly sends you over the edge. 

"Better, you should suck here. It will make her feel so good." He has the nerve to wink at you while Bob follows his orders, he is a fast leaning student. "Jesus Maria." Bob gabs your thighs as if his life depends on it and with that you're done. You're not even trying to muffle it, your moans echo throughout the whole church.  

The last thing you hear is an honest "Good job Bobby."

"Is she- she didn't passed out, right?"

"She did last time too. Happens, you should know that best." 

"Mmh." 

"If I look down your robe will I find a white spot?" 

"Mmh."

"Fuck you two will be the final end of me I swear." 

He throws Bob over his shoulder like a ragdoll and to his own surprise he is able to pull you up in his arms.

Before he leaves he takes a good look at the two of you, you cuddle up into Bob's side and he rest his head on yours. Suddenly he realizes that nothing is the same anymore. That is what you and Bob deserved. Warmth, trust and most importantly peace. He is not a stupid man by any means. He remembers the day you and Bob danced in the kitchen. How Bob always tried to make sure you're eating enough, anticipating every wish from your eyes, the night you and Bob spent together in his bed. He doesn't belong in this picture and so he leaves. 

He leaves happy knowing that Bob finally has someone who will stay with him. Someone he can rely on and that it is simply not John the realisation makes him shed a tear he wasn't aware he could. 

-------------

You lost count of how many weeks pass without John visiting any of you. Distracted by the thought you walk around looking for Bob. He’s kneeling in front of the altar, not praying still his lips are moving just the slightest. You join him and wait until he is finished. 

"Does he always stay away that long?" 

"That is the longest so far and honestly I’m out of ideas." 

"Hey don't worry he’ll come back I’m sure." 

Two more months pass and still nothing. Both of your hearts are heavy, going over all the possibilities. Was it something you said or done? Did Bob do something wrong? Maybe and that would be the worst possibility, something bad happened to John. 

It's hard on the eye to watch Bob basically disappear to nothing and you would lie to yourself if you don't miss John too. One night it escalates and you find Bob kneeling in his bathroom with a knife in his fist, sleeves pulled all the way up. 

"I’m- I’m sorry I just miss him so much. I’m not strong enough, especially not for the both of us." 

This is fucked up and straight up unhealthy you know for sure. That doesn't stop you from going to the kitchen and kneeling opposite of Bob with your own knife in hand. 

"You can't do that-"

"Bob without you, without him I have nothing. I would be alone for the rest of my days. Probably sent somewhere so much worse."

You offer him your wrist and he offers you his. While you both put the blade to it you close your eyes, it hurt like hell the last time and you just don't wanna see it. The only thing that calms you down is his voice. 

"You ready?" You nod heavily bracing yourself for pain that never comes. The wind is so strong it blows the knives out of your hands right against the wall. 

"Did the two of you lost your minds completely now?!" Before you can say or do anything he is on Bob. His hand in a tight grab around his throat.

"She already tried to kill herself once and you have the nerve to drag her into this?" 

With as much courage you can gather you pull at the back of the collar of his shirt. Since the action takes him by surprise he actually lets go of Bob and turns his attention to you. 

"What is it missy, now you want attention?" 

"Cut it you fucking asshole." He didn't learn from the last time, this time your swing is even stronger. "We did that because you didn't show up here for three fucking months you bastard!" 

Now they are both astonished, by your actions and your wording. 

"Bob was worried sick, look at him he is a god damn wreck. I was worried sick fuck John we missed you."

"No you two are supposed to be-" 

"Supposed to be what John?"

"Happy. Together." You solve the puzzle before Bob. You see how John's posture changes, his shoulders fall and so does his back. You never saw his eyes so blue. Careful you step closer to him, your hand slowly reaching out to cup his face. He gives into your touch completely. 

"See how it doesn't hurt? It's because I want to John." Meanwhile Bob took John's part, arms crossed, nose crunched, oh he is pissed. 

Next you are all in your room. You don't know how it happened, you just know that you will never be able to close your mouth again. 

For your own safety physically and mentally you decided to just witness at first. You already watched how John got rid of Bob’s Robe in a quick motion and it also explained why he orders some new ones like every two months. 

You're rested against the headboard trying to take everything in. You don't miss the mostly old scares on Bob's back and surely you don't miss John’s dancing over his whole body like vines.

"Hey pretty girl, you're good?" You nod in approval not wanting to interrupt the spectacle in front of you but John doesn't care. 

"Do you want to see what men do to give each other relief without using their hands?" 

This time you nod a little too eager and John has this cocky grin on his face again. 

"You heard the lady Bobby." Mindlessly Bob gets rid of John's pants and your eyes widen, it's not like you have a lot of comparison but you just know he is big. 

The way Bob's tongue dances over John, how he makes sure that salvia is all over and how deep he takes it in on the first go must be the greed they talk about in the bible. 

Soon Bob’s muffled moans and gags mix with John's deep and desperate ones and it is on you to feel greedy and also a bit envious too but for the both of them. 

This burning desire visits you once again but this time it only settles in your core and a little further down. You want to feel them, their hands, their warmth and everything else they are willing to give you and still you wait. 

"Come on Bobby hurry up, the lady over there starts to get impatient." 

For a second Bob takes the time to look up at you, tears rolling down his face, his locks sticking to his forehead which John strokes back for him. 

"He is pretty when he's crying right?" 

"Y- Yes." At your confession Bob's eyes roll back into his head and John's grip on his hair tightens. 

"Fucking told you Bobby." From that point on it doesn't take long. 

"Open your mouth this time, I want her to see." He obeys without hesitation and you watch as John spends himself inside Bob's mouth. 

Without thinking it through you kiss Bob wanting to taste it just out of curiosity next your spitting some of it out and John just laughs. 

"Dont worry you don't have to like, that's why I have Bob." 

"Oh fuck you John." 

You gulp hard, scared to ask your question, your voice trembling like crazy. 

"Can you- could you go a second time John?"

"Why pretty girl? Tell us." 

It gets so silent in the room that you can hear the blood rushing through your ear. 

"I want to feel you, the both of you." While Bob nearly faints John chuckles under his breath and already starts moving. "Who would have thought that you could be such a greedy little girl." 

"Stop!" Somehow both of them freeze completely. "You're staying right where you are, on your back, hands on the side." John does as you told him immediately and it is Bob's time to chuckle. 

"Wouldnt have guessed you could be this obedient John." The deathglare is enough to shut Bob up. 

Hell you don't know what you're doing. Bob needed a break and made himself comfortable next to John now their eyes basically pierced through you. 

Bob in adoration and Johns in a challenging way with a deep breath you get rid of your shirt and while Bob's eyes widen some more John has the nerve to reward you with a wolfish whistle.

When the backside of your hand strides his face he is as unbothered as always.

"You know that hurts you more than me right?" 

"Can’t you at least pretend to be nice?"

"Oh come on, what do you expect? That I tell you that you look straight out of a van gogh painting? Those are Bob's thoughts, mine are a bit more, obscene."

"Then just shut up for once, I’m nervous, okay?" 

Your honest confession seemed to catch him off guard because for once he actually shuts up. You take the opportunity to get rid of the rest of your clothing. 

With shaking legs you made yourself comfortable on John's lap. You just need a second too long and the old John is back. 

"Need any help, pretty girl?" His eyebrows wriggle up and down his stupid smile making you even more nervous. It's Bob's cracked voice that pulls you out of your thoughts. 

"John, maybe one of us should prep her before-" And that finally gets you going because you can not bear the idea of this stretching out even longer. With all the courage you can gather you grab John's cock which rewards you with a deep groan. 

You line him up with your entrance and slowly start to sink down, inch by inch. Meanwhile, since he is not allowed to touch you John first tears apart your sheets and the mattresses underneath them. 

John mentally prepares himself for some agonizing long waiting but there is no pause coming. You're all the way down, panting and trembling, still your first instinct is to roll your hips. 

"Fuck, maybe not nymphomanic but definitely something close." 

That's when you have enough. His size, your temperature, the fact that they both look at you is already overwhelming enough. Your fingers fly to his mouth to shut him up successfully, now the room is only filled with his and your moans. 

That's when you notice that Bob is awfully quiet. You stop moving all together which, according to John's expressions, is not amusing to him. 

"Bob, are you- are you okay?"

Okay? He is five seconds away from combusting looking at the very two people in his live he ever truly loved fucking each other so no he is not okay. 

He is not telling you that. To his luck though you're not stupid. You're actually smart enough to know that he would never even suggest joining in now. So, you offer something innocent. 

"Bob, would you please warm me? I’m so cold." 

How could he say no? It's not even a lie, yes all of this lets your body run hot yet at the same time giving his being John is incredibly cold underneath you. 

With Bob behind you the energy shifts. He is too hesitant at first to even wrap his arms around you as a result you lean back your bare back hitting him, skin on skin. 

"Bob, will you kiss me?" 

His lips answer for him now they taste even sweeter than the last time. Dizziness takes over your head fast at least that is the only explanation for the following words coming out of your mouth.  

"I want to feel you too." You can basically hear how his heart drops to his knees. He frantically shakes his head, his locks tickling slightly at your face. 

"Please you told me you wouldn't touch me if I don't want it, I want now." He sobs deep but ultimately he gives in to your needs and to his own. 

He is careful so damn careful as if you could break any second and perhaps you're not far away from that. 

You bite your lip so violently you can taste the blood in your mouth, your fingernails digging so deep into John's skin that it will leave some ugly scares. You're also sure Bobs will leave some on your hips the way he holds you. 

Now it is John who is awfully quiet. On one hand he is trying very hard not to lose it at the sight on the other hand there is something in his eyes you haven't seen before. That's when you come fully to terms with the fact that John and you never kissed.

You don't wait until Bob is done; you lean forward and close the distance between you and John. 

As expected his lips are cold just like the rest of him your body fills with heat nonetheless. The kiss deepens fast, his tongue incredibly deep in your mouth while yours does the same. At some point you remember that you need air to live and part away from him. 

For the first time you met him he was speechless and so seemed to be Bob behind you the only one capable of speaking is you. 

"John Walker," It is so unexpected that both of them shudder a little. "From this moment on till my last day and beyond that I allow you to see me fully, to feel me, to touch me as you please." 

It seems as Bob has stopped breathing altogether. Out of your euphoric state you look down facing the consequences of your words. 

All the blue in John's eyes is gone instead there is only black, a deep all consuming darkness. In contrast the smile on his face is too bright looking unnatural. You gulp down hard but you're not taking your words back. 

"You shouldn't have said that." You hear something sharp and then you feel it right on your hip you hiss in pain while he drags one of his claws over your skin and then brings it to his mouth. 

"I just wanted a taste, you taste as sweet as Bob, different but just as delicious."

Your pulse becomes audible in your ear, your eyes widen not because of what he just did, no, because you found this arousing and that worries you. 

His hands land back on your hips, the grip so strong it will leave bruises. The moan coming out of your throat betrays you.  

When John starts thrusting up naturally Bob does too. Soon you reach a state of deliriousness only moans and whimpers passing your lips. Skin is clapping on skin, you feel hands everywhere. 

At some point you straighten up again craving Bob's warmth. With being back in his embrace something in him breaks it is small and quiet but you hear it nonetheless.   

"I love- Fuck I love you, the both of you so fucking much." 

You look down at John. He didn't need Bob to say it out loud, he could hear it in his head before. 

With Bob's confession you let go completely, letting them take everything they want and take everything they are willing to give you. 

At some point it is John's voice that catches your attention. 

"Ah ah Bobby, ladies first." 

A thumb lands on your sensitive spot and you jolt, giving the temperature it is Johns. 

"Come on pretty girl, let go for us before poor Bobby combust. I mean who can blame him?" 

As if you needed his permission it hits you with full force, your whole body tenses to a borderline painful extent until everything lets loose. 

Bob loses it at the same time with you and the way he screams yours and John's name you're sure he feels the same as you. 

John is the one able to fully enjoy all of this when he comes inside you his groan is filled with hints of laughter. 

All three of you try to calm down but something inside you takes a wrong turn. "Bob out, right now." With a question Bob does as you told him and even quicker you get up from John's cock. 

"Hey hey pretty girl be careful." You stand up and everything spins so you fall back onto the bed. John wants to put his hand on your waist but you swat it away before he can do so. 

"I just need a shower, now." This time you manage, you even grab your clothes on the way. 

When they hear you locking the door they throw each other a look as they speak in unison. "I think we messed up."

Now you're grateful for the fact that you still haven't replaced your mirror. You go straight into the shower, the tiles cold under you, the water warm from above. 

You don’t cry, you just need time to think. 

Then you step back into your main room to be then met with two pairs of eyes which practically pierce through you.

"Is everything alright with the two of you? Did I do something wrong?" 

"I think we should spend the rest of the night in my room."

Your gaze ends up on your torn mattress and you nod in agreement. 

With the three of you together in Bob's bed it became warm despite John laying between the two of you. 

When Bob starts to snore, somehow he makes even that sound cute, John turns his head towards you silently asking you for permission. 

"You tell me what we did wrong?" 

"What? What are you talking about?"

"When you shower, something is wrong." 

"I thought you could read my mind now."

"I can, doesn't mean I do."

"It's just… John it felt so good. How can something so sinful feel so good?"

"You know I’m not really fit for this question. But let me tell you that you, live this life. I don't know what happens after. You should live your life the way you want to since it is yours only." 

"An easy excuse."

"A reason."

"There is something else…It was so different to what Bishop Razhal did. I-"

Your voice breaks halfway through and every little or big emotion you held back floods out of you. John holds you close just the way you need it. 

"I can't make it to never happen, we can just try to make it bearable." 

Then you hear someone stir, you look over to Bob and become quite jealous. How can he still look like an angel after all this while you probably looked like a plucked chicken. The sleep in his voice is so thick already that you have a hard time understanding him. 

"Try to see it as a gift. Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. The lord has seen your way, your past, your goodness, and it is his apology for letting you be alone for so long."

"Strong words Bobby." With that Bob is completely gone. John looks you in the eyes then places a deep kiss on your forehead and it becomes quiet in your mind.

-------------

It is far from the ordinary what is happening in those walls you slowly start to call your home. Yes John still disappears from time to time but he doesn't stay away long. 

Bob's words helped, you tried to befriend yourself with the idea that this, the life you're living right now is a deserved apology, making up for the years prior where you suffered in silence thinking that it is god's will. On days where you feel like your head is already under water the second you wake up, when the tears edge on the corners of your eyes are the days when you seek out for Bob more than usual. Those days are spent in bed together, he holds you,stroking your hair, trying to talk the voices away. 

On days where you feel like you want to set the world on fire, when you want to break everything in half, face burning with anger, those are the days John comes to you. He lets you do what you want with him. You scream and punch, pull and push. Since you can not hurt him he just takes it. He would never even think about attacking back. Most of these times it ends with your knuckles covered in your own blood, the taste of salt on your lips. He soothes your wounds every time, all of them, the best he can. 

It was rare but on some days it happened that it was John who needed attention. There was never a clear pattern, sometimes he just needed someone to talk to. Sometimes he would snap wooden stumps in half. Sometimes he came into yours or Bob's room, his only wish to make the two of you feel good and getting praised for it. It was okay, it was a silent agreement between all three of you. Giving when someone needed it, taking when you were in need and it simply worked. 

-------------

One thing that was never a problem was jealousy, most of the time all of you were able to communicate openly when it came to wanting the other so it wasn't a surprise when you made your way to the church thinking that Bob head off to town to buy groceries that instead you heard him whine. 

You stayed hidden behind a wall looking around, it took a second longer to spot him, then you raise your head a little and spot him on the pulpit sitting on John's lap not a single inch of skin showing since he is still wearing his robe but you knew exactly what was happening beneath. 

And the worst part? You couldn't look away. Bob's curls just stood up too cute, his high whines and whimpers were just too adorable. Your hand wanders between your legs under your underwear when John and Bob could make you come with their tongues you should be able to do it with your own fingers. 

You don’t hear that John whispers into Bob's ear, the words give him goosebumps immediately. "She’s hiding behind the wall, listening to you falling apart." Bob's sound intensifies and so does the pressure of your fingers, you become brave and let one finger slide inside then a second. By the time you try a third you hear that Bob is close and so are you. Your right hand covers your mouth all the while Bob's high is shooting up to the high ceiling of the church echoing through the pews. When you're ready you walk away as fast as you can, head ducked. 

Bob's catching his breath, nesting his head in John's neck. "I feel guilty now." John pats his head "Don’t worry I will take care of her soon enough." 

The next day the weather is beautiful, not too warm, not too cold. At first you're just strolling through the small garden then your gaze wanders to the small wood. You can oversee it from your bedroom window so you decide to be a little risky. The grass smells fresher, the branches of the trees give in under the pleasant breeze. You reach a pond and sit down, leaning against a stone. The sun prickles your face in such a delightful manner that you just can't help yourself, you're falling asleep. 

"Shit." Panic is already flooding you. It is nearly pitch black, only the full moon spending some light. It can't be that hard to find your way back right? You walked for what? 20 minutes? 

After what felt like hours you give up, holding yourself up against a tree. If you're gone long enough Bob will look for you so it's best to stay where you are, so you think. When you hear a long howl this idea is gone. You run as fast as your feet can. Some thin branches hit your face, you don’t know what would be worse, a real wolf or a werewolf because when demons exist werewolves probably do too right? At the very least if it is the latter you could try to do some damage with your silver cross necklace. 

Right behind you you hear a branch crack and you run even faster your attention on the floor, the last thing you need is tripping over a damn root. Instead you bump head first into a three, your body falling down with a loud thud. You're not unconscious for long when your eyes flicker open and you stop to breathe entirely. Something looks at you, eyes red, slowly approaching you on all fours. 

With your last strength you attempt to stand up but the creature leaps forward then you feel strong hands turning you on your stomach, you try to crawl away but you're getting pulled back and you feel heavy pressure on your back.

"Tsk tsk tsk where are you going pretty girl?" 

"John?!"

"Wow, you're not just pretty, you're also smart."

"What the- you scared me to death!" Again you try to wriggle yourself out of his grip but you don’t stand a chance against him he presses you down and the last ounce of air gets pressed out of your lungs.

"Aw but I’m here because of you. Because you wanted this." Your eyebrows raise in a frown; you can’t make sense of his words.

"I saw it. Deep in your mind, locked away. Sometimes some of our desires are hidden so far away that we don’t know they exist. You can’t hide them from me, pretty girl. I can see them, all of them and since I’m so generous I will make all of them come true with the greatest pleasure.”

"You're sick!" 

"Yes, but let me guess when I reach down between those pretty legs I will find a mess." 

You want to protest but he holds you down while his free hand rides up your skirt. You press your eyes close in shame.

"I fucking knew it. And what a beautiful mess it is." He doesn't bother to take your panties off, he rips them apart. "I will keep the skirt intact. Wouldn't want Bob to know what his innocent girl is doing out here in the woods right?" You gulp hard with your poorly maintained airflow and the adrenaline drop it is hard for you to think. 

"Already going stupid huh?" You don’t say anything and take the humiliation. Suddenly he yanks your hips up and your ass is in the air, your skirt riding up by itself exposing your skin to the coldness of the night. "You're so beautiful like this," the smack comes unexpected but not unwelcomed "I could just keep you like this, make your ass a ravishing red and then leave you." You shake your head in a frantic no at the tough. The hand that's holding you down moves upward caressing your head "I couldn't do that, don't worry. I’m not a monster. I will fuck you here on the dirty, cold and hard ground and then you will go back home and act as if nothing happened." You nod frantically again but this time in a yes. 

The pressure on your head never falters while he positions himself between your legs, his tip already closer at your entrance. You buck your hips in his direction whining at the touch. "Oh there she, is my greedy little girl." You moan out "John please do something." He chuckles deep, his free hand wrapping around your hips and with one brutal thrust he is all the way inside you. 

You come dangerously close to a scream, not because it hurts, it feels so unholy good. Your eyes roll back and your head is emptying itself completely. John thinks it is safe now to let go of your head and the other hand goes to your hips too. This will leave you sore and aching for days and the irregular smacks on your ass will do too, right now you don’t care.

"Fuck, I still can’t believe your a nun. You're way too naughty for that. Getting fucked, out in the woods not a thought inside your head, you dirty dirty girl." A single tear rolls down your cheek and you press yourself up, arching your back in a beautiful bow. John's grip tightens some more and you whine. "Look at you, face and hands covered in dirt, clothes all messy and all the while I’m fucking you, your pussy grips me like a lifeline, begging for it." With one arm you reach up pulling him down into a kiss he licks some of the blood from the cuts away and your stomach flutters. "You have to face it, pretty girl, you're just as sick as me, as us." 

You manage to pull him down with you, his heavy body now completely pressed into yours. His arms move forward and trap you in a headlock, his groans are so close to your ear. "Fuck I can feel your close lets come together greedy girl that is the best part." He pounds into you without mercy and one peculiar thrust sends lightning bolts through your body, your nails digging into his hands, next you feel his cum shooting into your wall. His breath as heavy as your he lets go of your head pushing himself on his knees kissing down your spine while pulling out. 

He turns you around so you can breathe better. He gently pulls your skirt down and adjusts your shirt. His hand moves into the direction of your face, coming to a stop at your collarbone taking the cross between his fingers. "You know silver does nothing to a werewolf, that's a myth." Your eyes shoot wide, he rips the necklace off and throws it somewhere in the woods.  

"Asshole."

"You should go inside, Bob is putting his clothes on looking for you." You turn your head, you can already see your bedroom window. He helps you stand up. "You should start thinking of a good excuse." He winks and then he is gone. You repeat knowing fully well that he is still able to hear you. "Asshole."

You walk as fast as you can which is pretty slow since your legs feel like jelly. You open the door with trembling hands with the first step in you bump into Bob who looks relieved and confused at the same time pulling you in a tight hug nevertheless. "Gods, where the hell were you? I haven't seen you the whole day." 

"I went into the woods for a short stroll. Fell asleep next to a pond, sorry." Falling asleep in random places is pretty common for you but he is eyeing you from head to toe and you're avoiding his gaze. 

"And what else happened? I mean you look like you wrestled with a bear." You bite your lips, your shoulders stiff, pressing your tights together, you can feel John's cum running down your legs. 

"I fell."

"You fell?" 

"Yes over a damn root what a cliche right?" Your laughter is too high, your smile too forced.

"I think I need a shower, so." He nods and you walk to your room like a penguin without the arm funny placement. 

"God, she is the worst liar I have ever seen." 

"Are you really surprised by that?"

"No, not really... John? Can I have what she had?” 

Thank you for reading 🫶🏼! If you want you can check out my Masterlist here 💖

[lalalunawrites]

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

Hope you liked it! Feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

Please do not repost or reproduce in any way. You do not have my permission to use this for AI scraping.

[voidkrypto]

Two’s Better Than One

— part 2 of Two-Man Job (Some Maintenance Required)

pairing: john walker x fem!reader x bob reynolds

summary: One gets to have you. The other only gets a show.

You fuck Bob while John is forced to watch every second of it.

tags: plumber! AU; porn with a bit of plot; mentions sentryagent making out; no use of y/n; bratty female reader; mean john and sweet bob; 69 position; riding; voyeurism; orgasm denial (kinda); basically john is in the cuck chair

notes: thank you @magicwithaknife for requesting this, i had so much fun writing it; (this is more steamy than part one); i giggled when i called them ‘plumber bros’ cuz it made me think of mario and luigi 

word count:  3,018

nsfw content; mdni 

The first time John and Bob helped you out with your "problem" had been weeks ago. And it definitely hadn’t been the last.

You called maintenance again the very next day, something about a leaky kitchen faucet, and asked for the same plumbers to come by.

“They just did such a great job,” you had said sweetly to the lady on the phone, who was a little too enthusiastic about providing excellent customer service.

You still had the modesty to pretend. Pretended to show them to the kitchen sink, which was very much not broken. They had set their toolbox down with matching raised eyebrows. You only gave them a sly smile in return.

That was where the modesty ended. Because not even two minutes later, you were bent over the cool granite counter while they took turns rearranging your guts.

After that, it became a pattern. Every few days, you came up with a new reason to ring up maintenance—a faulty sink drain, a suspicious rattle in your pipes, your washing machine not filling water—and every time, you requested John and Bob.

If the desk lady ever noticed your suspiciously frequent service calls, she was polite enough not to say anything.

John was still as gruff as ever. Still fucked you mean, made your thighs shake harder the more he spat out degrading things in that low, gravel-thick voice. Bob stayed sweet. Still peppered you with kisses, still whispered compliments and praises into your skin. Somehow that contrast made it even hotter. You never wanted to pick between them.

By your third hookup, John had given you both their numbers. “Saves you from calling the building like a little freak,” he had said. “And we can help you out after work hours, too.”

So now, naturally, you hooked up even more often. Late nights. Early mornings. Whenever the craving hit, they were free. And you always texted both of them.

Two’s just better than one, you always thought.

Which was exactly how you ended up here tonight, kneeling on your bedroom floor with both of them standing in front of you. They were facing each other, making out, tongues brushing lazily, as your hands curled around their lengths.

Your mouth worked between them, switching back and forth. Bob on the right, John on the left. You alternated, lips wrapping around one cock while your hand stroked the other. Every time you looked up and saw them still kissing, still lost in each other, you felt it. Arousal deep in your belly, a heat that only built. You moaned around them, vibrations rolling through your throat.

It didn’t take long for them to near their climax. You felt it in the way their cocks twitched in your hands. The way they both groaned, low and deep, when you sucked them harder.

Your own hand dropped between your thighs. You chased your climax with fast, messy circles, your breath hitching between sloppy licks.

You took Bob deeper, and gagged just a little when the head of his cock brushed your throat. Your free hand still stroked John, your thumb swiping over the tip slick with pre-cum.

Your thighs trembled as the orgasm ripped through you. A full-body jolt that left you moaning around Bob’s length.

Then he was spilling into your mouth with a sweet whimper, hips jerking up as the heat hit the back of your throat. You swallowed fast, your tongue still lapping at him as you pulled off with a wet sound.

You barely had time to turn your head before John finished too, groaning your name as his cock twitched in your grip and released hot cum all over your face. Thick, warm liquid coated your cheeks, your lips, the bridge of your nose. Even dripped down to your chin.

You blinked up at him, still dazed and flushed, hand falling away from his spent length. You were a mess. A filthy, ruined, glowing mess.

And still, you grinned. A playful glint flashed in your eyes as you looked up at him through your lashes.

He narrowed his eyes. His voice came out low, a little breathless, and sharp. “Fucking brat. Always so needy.”

He turned away to grab his clothes off the floor. And you didn’t know why, you didn’t mean to care, but his words hit you. Deep.

You were still kneeling on the floor, naked. His mess is still on your face. Your smile faltered, eyes dipping down, chest suddenly tight.

Sure, he always said shit like that. And it always turned you on. The degradation, the roughness, paired with Bob’s sweetness, it sent you spiraling into some other world.

But this time it landed wrong. 

Maybe because he hadn’t even looked at you when he said it.

Maybe because yeah, you were needy. 

But he always showed up when you texted. So what the fuck does that make him?

You didn’t realize how long you’d been quiet until Bob crouched down, his gentle voice tugging you back. “Hey,” he said, hand cupping your chin to tilt your face up. “You okay?”

He was holding a warm, damp towel. Carefully and tenderly, he started to wipe your face clean. He swiped your cheek, then your lip, then under your chin.

You swallowed hard and nodded. “Thanks, Bob,” you whispered.

He smiled, soft as ever, and leaned in to press a quick kiss to your lips. And that alone almost made you melt again.

That night, John's words still clung to you like humidity, thick in your chest, sticking to your thoughts. You knew you probably shouldn't have let it get to you. That was just how John was. Rough-edged, mouthy, prone to saying shit that dug deep without meaning to. But still, every time you closed your eyes, his voice circled your brain.

You didn’t text them for the next few days. That was the unspoken rule; they never reached out first. They waited. Waited for you to need them.

And god, you were starting to need them. Really bad.

Your vibrator just wasn’t cutting it anymore. It wasn’t the same. No weight behind it, no heat, no two pairs of calloused hands pressing your legs open or holding your hips down.

You hovered your thumb over Bob’s name in your contacts, almost tempted to call just him. Sweet Bob, who never said the wrong thing, who always made sure you came at least three times before worrying about himself.

But then a better idea bloomed in your mind.

You sent them both the same text, separately: i’m free tomorrow after 9pm ;)

Bob replied after a while: okayyy see ya :)

John left your text on read. Typical. But you knew he’d show up. He always did.

~

You still weren’t sure how they always managed to arrive at your door at the same time. Whether they planned it or it was just some odd plumber bros psychic connection. But when the knock came at 9:03, and you opened the door, both of them were standing there.

And tonight, you were feeling bold. You wore nothing but your satin robe. The same one you’d worn that first time they fucked your brains out.

“Hi,” you chirped, grinning at both of them.

 “Hey,” Bob replied, warm and soft, his eyes already dragging over your legs.

John gave you a once-over and muttered, “Someone’s feelin’ extra lively today.”

You ignored him. Just reached out, grabbed both their wrists with playful fingers, and tugged them inside, kicking the door closed with your heel.

Your room was dimly lit, warm, the bed freshly made. You led them in, let go of their wrists, and faced them.

 They both stood in the middle of your room, waiting for you to move first.

 You turned to John. With a slow, gentle press of your palm to his chest, you nudged him toward the corner chair.

 “Just wait here while I get ready,” you said with a sugary smile. His brow arched slightly. He didn’t ask questions, just walked backward, letting you herd him like a well-trained dog. His legs hit the chair, and he dropped into it, exhaling through his nose. Arms crossed, face hard and unreadable.

Perfect.

You turned, sauntered back to Bob. “Wanna undress me?”

 His eyes widened slightly, and he nodded. “Of course.” His fingers were slow and hot to the touch. Bob untied the ribbon at your waist, slipped the robe off your shoulders, and let it pool at your feet. You stepped out of it without a word.

Your lips found his, and he sighed into your mouth as you kissed him, slow and deep, your hands already tugging at the hem of his shirt. You peeled it off him, then slid your hands down to the waistband of his pants. He helped you, until he was down to just his boxers, already hard beneath the cotton.

You heard movement behind you. John shifted in the chair, maybe rising to stand, but your voice stopped him cold. “Actually,” you said, glancing back at him, your lips curling sweetly, “I think I just need Bob’s help tonight.”

Bob pulled back slightly. “Oh—what?” You didn’t answer. Just kissed him again, more firmly this time. Let your hands wander over his chest, his stomach, until his confusion melted into a soft groan.

“The fuck?” John’s voice came sharp and incredulous from across the room. 

You climbed onto the bed, pulling Bob with you. He settled back against the pillows, sitting halfway up, propped on his elbows.

 You straddled his hips immediately, grinding down on him with slow, deliberate pressure. He let out a shaky breath, already panting slightly.

 “What—what about John?” Bob murmured, voice tight, as your mouth pressed kisses down his neck.

 You leaned in close to his ear, your voice a velvet whisper, but loud enough for John to hear across the room. “Don’t worry about him,” you purred. “Let’s just have a good time. You and me.”

Behind you, you heard a sharp exhale. A grunt. The creak of leather as John adjusted in the chair. You glanced over your shoulder and caught his hard expression, arms still crossed, one leg bouncing impatiently. His eyes, dark, were locked on where your hips were rolling against Bob’s.

The sight should’ve made you nervous. Instead, it made your core throb.

All you could think of was, this is gonna be so fun.

You turned your attention back to Bob, who was all flushed and dazed, reached between your bodies, and slid your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers.

 And you made sure John could see every second of it.

Bob’s cock was already hard in your hand, twitching when you stroked him slow and steady. His head tipped back, lips parted, chest rising fast. You tugged his boxers down just enough and climbed into his lap, grinding down while he gasped into your shoulder.

He fumbled for your hips, eyes wild, and you didn’t make him wait. You reached between your legs, guided him to your entrance, and sank down on him in one slow, aching push.

~

You were barely holding yourself up at that point, thighs trembling, as you rode Bob’s cock shamelessly. 

He was sprawled out beneath you on the bed, flushed and breathless, hands gripping your hips to help guide your movements. His cock filled you so well it almost hurt, every bounce sending a wet slap echoing off the walls.

Your voice was hoarse from moaning, crying out each time you sank back down. That angle had him hitting something deep, just the right spot. 

And when you leaned forward a little, you swore you felt his tip reach so far into you. The sudden stretch ripped another needy sound from your throat.

You felt dizzy with it.

But it wasn’t just the pleasure. It was him.

John.

You glanced to the corner of the room. He was still sitting there, where you had told him to stay. Watching.

Your gaze dropped down to his jeans, and you bit your lip when you saw it. The denim was tight across his lap, his bulge unmistakable now, the fabric doing a poor job at hiding how hard he was. 

You didn’t doubt for a second he was aching under there. Probably leaking.

Your mouth suddenly felt dry. Or maybe too wet. Because, fuck, you missed the feel of him. Missed the weight of him on your tongue, the stretch of his cock filling your mouth until tears pricked at your lashes.

You had never said it out loud, you’d never feed into his ego like that, but you loved sucking John’s dick. He was so long, so thick, it took all your focus to keep your mouth wide and your throat open. And he knew it. Smirked at the way you gagged and whined around him, grumbling words like, That’s it, slut, drool on it.

A soft whine escaped your lips now, involuntary. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to look at him again.

But when you did, because you couldn’t help yourself, he was already watching you. His smirk was lazy, crooked. That smug glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

He knew one cock wasn’t enough for you. That you liked being filled from both ends, used until you forgot your own name.

You could practically hear him again; Fucking brat. Always so needy.

He may be right about that, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

Because this? This whole show was your payback. You were proving just how fine you were without him. Just how good Bob, and only Bob, could make you feel.

You looked back down at the man beneath you, sweat-drenched and wrecked, and smiled through your panting. You had an idea.

“Bob?” you managed through a breathy moan. “I wanna—nnnhh—I wanna try something…”

He blinked up at you, propping himself up slightly on his elbows. His grip on your hips loosened just a bit, the pace of his thrusts slowing. “Yeah?” His voice was low, wrecked. “What is it?”

You pouted a little, leaning closer to his face. “Can I suck your dick… while you eat me out?”

His whole face turned red, adorably so. You could feel his cock twitch inside you. “You mean like…”

“Yeah,” you nodded, grinning. “Like sixty-nine.”

Bob swallowed thickly, breath catching. “Yeah—fuck—okay.”

You lifted yourself off him slowly, gasping as his cock slipped free. When you settled back down again, facing the other way this time, you were soaked, dripping onto his stomach as you shuffled up his body and straddled his chest.

He lay flat again, eyes wide with anticipation, hands settling on the sides of your ass to guide you into place. The air felt cool on your slick folds as you hovered above his face, and you shivered. Half from the exposure, half from knowing John’s eyes were still on you.

Then Bob pulled you down to his mouth.

You cried out, sharp and breathless, when his tongue met your core with an open-mouthed kiss. It was overwhelming, wet and messy, and so fucking good. He moaned into you like he had missed the taste, dragging his tongue through your folds, teasing your clit with slow, rhythmic circles.

You let yourself sink down, balancing your weight on your forearms as you reached for his cock.

He was still hard, aching and flushed. And when you wrapped your hand around him, lowered your mouth to the head, Bob groaned loudly into your pussy. The vibrations made your thighs twitch.

You swirled your tongue around the tip before taking more of him in, your lips stretching, your mouth already watering. You hummed low around him, and he bucked slightly into your throat.

Fuck, you loved this. The mess of it. The ache of being worked at both ends.

You whimpered as Bob’s tongue flicked faster, harder, working your clit like a man on a mission.

And then your eyes flicked back to the corner of the room.

John was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, hands clenched into fists as he watched you suck Bob off while riding his face. His expression unchanged, eyes narrowed, chest heaving with shallow breaths.

You made a show of it, moaning around Bob’s cock, grinding your hips just a little more desperately against Bob’s mouth, like you had forgotten John was even there.

But you hadn’t.

You wanted him to suffer.

And because the thought of pushing his buttons until he snapped was a little too exciting.

It didn’t take long before both you and Bob came together. Your back arched as you released, coating his lips with your slick. At the same time, his cum spilled hot into your throat, which you swallowed eagerly.

Bob was limp beneath you, panting against the sheets, skin flushed and shining with sweat. His hands had fallen from your hips, too spent to hold on any longer. You slid off his lap with shaky legs, but still remembered to lean down and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

And John—oh, poor John—still hadn’t gotten his release, cock straining painfully against his jeans, visible from where he remained seated in the corner.

You were a tad bit disappointed he didn’t end up taking out his frustration on you. Maybe next time you’ll get lucky. For now, the satisfaction of denying him was enough.

You walked over to him, naked, not bothering to hide a thing.

Standing between his knees, you pressed your hand to his crotch. His breath caught. You gave him a slow, gentle squeeze, just enough to make him feel everything he didn’t get to have.

Then your hand slid upward, over his stomach, up his chest, until it settled lightly on his face. Your thumb brushed along the curve of his cheek.

You leaned in, lips hovering just shy of his. He didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. The corner of your mouth tugged into a smirk. And you only whispered,

“Did you have a good time?”

[lalalunawrites]

Starting Patterns

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Fem!Thunderbolts!Reader, John Walker x Fem!Thunderbolts!Reader (eventual Bob Reynolds x John Walker x Fem!Thunderbolts!Reader)

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: You'd met both John Walker and Bob Reynolds before, of course. But that was mostly in passing or in the middle of a fight. But, within the first few weeks of moving into the Watchtower, you found yourself connecting with them in small ways, starting with a plate of bacon and a cup of hot cocoa. Set in the same universe as Swap Spit, Lock Lips but can be read as a standalone.

Tags/Warnings: meet cute, fluff, pre-relationship, ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent reader, mentions of events of Thunderbolts and of characters' past traumas

A/N: I'm working on a proper sequel to Swap Spit, Lock Lips but desperately needed some fluff. These three have stuck with me, so I'm probably going to do a few more fluffy drabbles of them. And some smutty ones as well...

Smoochieverse Masterlist

Your relationship with John started thanks to a plate of bacon, of all things.

It was one of your early days, only about a week after everyone moved into the Watchtower. Your sleep schedule had been completely derailed after the coma-like crash you'd had after the Void Incident. It finally stabilized that morning when you woke up at 5 AM and immediately got out of bed like it was the easiest thing in the world, something you hadn't been able to do for weeks. The pantry was fully stocked, so you grabbed the first things you thought of to make - fried eggs, bacon, and toast with jam.

You'd plated the bacon, letting the grease soak into some paper towels, and used the leftover fat to fry the eggs. John walked into the kitchen just as you started the toaster. He was visibly sniffing the air like a cartoon character who was being carried by the scent of a freshly baked pie on a windowsill. Unlike you with your pajamas still firmly on and your hair thrown into a ponytail so messy that you definitely couldn't pull it off as a fashion choice, John was fully dressed in an old Army Rangers shirt and a pair of running pants, hair combed with military precision. It was like he'd been awake for hours. Or, more likely, this was a part of his routine, getting up and ready at ungodly hours in the morning.

"Bacon?" he asked as if the answer wasn't obvious, especially since he was already eying the cooling pieces.

"Uh, yeah," you responded awkwardly, glancing at him before you went back to carefully flipping the eggs, making sure they landed with no uncooked part facing up. "I'll be out of your hair in a minute if you want to use the stove." You paused for a second, weighing your next words before you spoke them. "Or I can put some on for you, if you'd like."

This was the first time you'd really spent with John completely alone. Unlike everyone else (Alexei aside), you didn't mind him. When you'd met in the vault, you thought he was a delusional jackass, cut from the same cloth as a certain type of man you'd met while working for S.H.I.E.L.D. then freelancing for OXE after. The kind of man who thought he was God's gift to everyone else. The special little boy whose mama never told him no and whose dad never really cared either way. That image started to break down as soon as you'd left the vault, right after Bob had inadvertently tanked your escape plan by rolling your stolen Humvee. You felt like you saw a little bit of who he was behind the facade in that small moment where he offered up some cactus berries. His smile was sheepish when he'd handed you a piece, looking for all the world like a man who'd spent years frowning and was trying to remember how to look friendly instead of angry. Then your view of him cracked wide open in the Void. You'd accidentally stumbled into his shame room and had to pull him away from the memory of a friend killed in action, one that cut so deep and sharp it had him on his knees even though he knew it wasn't real.

In the kitchen, John gave you a searching look, scanning your face with brows furrowed, like he was trying to tell if this was a set up for a joke at his expense.

"It's really no problem," you offered, giving him a tentative smile.

His eyes flicked down to your lips just for a second, barely long enough for you to register the movement before he looked back up into your eyes. "Yeah. That would be great," John said, the barest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble. If it is -"

"How do you like your eggs?" you asked, cutting off his self-doubt before he could fully put it into words. You lifted up the plate of bacon like an offering, handing it to him. "Here. You can have the first round. Unless you want to save it to have with the eggs."

He hummed as he took a bite of one, closing his eyes briefly in enjoyment. When he opened them, John's eyes found yours immediately. "We can share," he offered, holding out the plate for you to take a piece. Which you gladly did.

The conversation was surprisingly easy that morning and each one after it. You didn't always have early days, but the ones you did, you made breakfast for two.

Your relationship with Bob started because of an impromptu movie marathon.

It was one of your bad nights, ones where you tossed and turned in bed before falling into a fitful sleep that was ripped away from you when you'd inevitably shoot up in bed, your heart pounding erratically against your ribcage and your body drenched in sweat. Finally, tired of the painful cycle, you got up and wandered down to the living room, turning on a movie. Not in the mood for anything new, you just selected whichever one you saw first that was an old favorite. Something as comfortable as the blanket you curled up in and the cup of cocoa you sipped.

You were only a few minutes into a movie when you noticed a figure lurking at the doorway. Startled, you jumped, whipping around to see Bob standing there. He was wearing what you'd normally wear as pajamas but for Bob, it could just be his outfit for the day - a wildly oversized hoodie and equally large sweatpants with bright blue fuzzy socks peeking out underneath. His hair was mussed, raised on one side like he'd just been laying in bed, and the expression on his face was one you recognized in yourself - the kind of dazed weariness that comes from trying your hardest to sleep but your body refusing to listen. Bob turned to look at you, but he didn't startle in return the way he would under normal circumstances. He was the jumpiest person you'd ever met. So for him to not react? He must have been exhausted.

"Sorry," Bob mumbled, his voice a croak of disuse.

"You're okay," you said, offering him a small, tired smile. The corners of his lips lifted in return. "Did I have the TV up too loud?"

Bob shook his head solemnly, eyes already turned back to the screen. "No," he said simply. "I was already awake."

Glancing back for a second at the movie, you realized you were still very close to the beginning. "Do you…?" You paused, hesitating for a second. He looked back at you, a little wrinkle forming between his brows that immediately struck you as adorable. You pushed the thought away before you could examine it further. "Do you want me to restart the movie?"

This was definitely the first time you'd spent time alone with Bob. He mainly kept to his room, coming out at odd hours or whenever Yelena managed to convince him to join the group. From what little you'd seen of him in the Tower, Bob was the quiet sort, the kind who avoided crowds at all costs because the idea of so many eyes on him at once made him twitchy and nervous. He was a man who was haunted by the ghosts of himself: past, present, and future. Even his smiles were halfhearted, like he wasn't sure how to or, more likely, that he wasn't sure if he was allowed to. But you hadn't forgotten his kindness in the vault. Or his bravery outside of it. All the Thunderbolts had had to face parts of yourselves in the Void that you'd all fought to bury deep down, but Bob had to face everything about himself all at once - his childhood trauma, his addictions, his mental illness. And he did. He'd saved the world from his own darkness, forced to embrace his own inner pain to save a group of people he barely knew who'd shown him a modicum of humanity.

In the living room, Bob looked at you, really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time. There was an awareness in his eyes you hadn't seen before, and you got the impression that your next few words had a weight to them, that they'd set the tone for your relationship with this man going forward. So you let yourself be vulnerable.

"I really don't mind starting it over. I've seen it a hundred times and…" You paused, biting your lip. It was dark enough that you didn't notice when his eyes followed the movement, resting a little too long on your mouth. "Honestly…I could use some company," you confessed, looking down at the mug on the table, at your hands, anywhere but at his face.

So, you didn't see when Bob sat down on the couch, but you felt it shift and the warmth of another body next to you. When you looked up at him in surprise, he gave you a small, genuine smile in return.

"I think I could use some too," Bob admitted, ducking his head like he was physically unable to take you looking at him directly. Like your gaze was the sun and he couldn't help but shade his eyes. "Plus, I love The Emperor's New Groove. It's one of my favorites," he added.

You fought back a grin at his words. "I had a feeling. What with the elevator shaft in the vault and all," you teased.

As he leaned forward to pick up the remote control on the coffee table, you could swear there was a dusting of pink on his pale cheeks that wasn't there before. But it was impossible to tell in the dim glow of the television.

Bob restarted the movie and placed the remote back, almost knocking over your hot cocoa.

"Shit," he swore under his breath, managing to stabilize the mug, only splashing a little bit of (fortunately not too hot) cocoa on his hand. Not seeing a napkin, Bob opted to suck the liquid off of his skin. Your eyes lingered on his mouth. When he turned to you to apologize, some of the lightness that had filled him seemed to have dissipated. He managed to look both deflated and stiff at the same time, like he was convinced he'd ruined something.

"It's okay, Bob. I promise," you assured him just as he opened his mouth. "Worst case scenario, I would have made you make me more."

Bob paused, caught off guard. You could see your words sinking in as his tensed shoulders relaxed a little more with each breath. "I'm still sorry," he said weakly. "It was…the cocoa was really good. I don't think I could have made a good replacement."

"Apology accepted," you said quickly, leaning down to scoop up the mug. You held it out to him. "Wanna share?"

Bob didn't fight you this time. Taking the cup with both hands as if to be doubly careful with it, Bob held your gaze as he took a sip. "Thank you."

You just smiled at him in answer.

Neither of you spoke much that night, except to decide on the next movie and the next until the sun peaked out over the horizon, your cue to both try to get some sleep. You didn't always have sleepless nights, but the ones you did, you'd bring enough blankets and hot cocoa for two.

Divider Credit -> @/strangergraphics

Images in header are not mine

Hope you liked it! Feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

Please do not repost or reproduce in any way. You do not have my permission to use this for AI scraping.

[lollypopunicorn14]

And have mercy on those who doubt 🕊

Pairing: Soon-to-be Deacon Robert Reynolds x Soon-to-be Nun female Reader x Priest John Walker

Wordcount: Too high for what it is (11k)

Warnings: SMUT, Religious trauma (not created by any of the main characters), Properbly wrong description of church ranks, Definitely a lot more but too many to write them all down, No use of Y/N, Reader makes first appearance after 3k before that pure SentryAgent,

Shoutout to @pixelc0sm0s for inspiring me with this lovely moodboard (Sry for basically changing the whole idea)

Shoutout to @uzmacchiato for the divider

Summary: John's days as a Priest are peaceful, he is doing exactly what he wants to do free from sin and temptations but all of that changes when the Church decides that John has to take a notorious troublemaker under his care. And if that isn't enough they are also sending a Nun who has not taken her vows yet. 

The town is nothing out of the ordinary. Around 300 residents. John knows all 75 church goer's by name. They are not a lot but enough, it's quiet, familial, safe. The church that is under his care is old but not old enough to be left abandoned. The electricity needed a lot of upkeep, the wooden floors would creek under feather but to John it was home, everything he needed, everything he'd wished for.

John never had a doubt in what he was doing. He offered his life to god, to community, to the church and he always felt whole. Never did he desire anything else. 

That would soon change. One day the church decides that John would have to take a soon-to-be deacon under his care. Robert Reynolds, from Florida. The church doesn't give John a reason and he doesn't ask. 

It’s not the first time they would send him some kind of troublemaker. After reading the letter, John makes the spear room next to his ready. Dusting and changing the bedsheets is all it takes, they don’t need more, except the bible laying on the bedside table. 

Robert Reynolds arrives when the sun sets behind the mountains. Three hours later than he was supposed to. John doesn't mind, it's not like they have a busy schedule. 

John’s eyes are focused on Robert who just carries a single box out of his car. 

"You are late Robert."

"Excuse me, Father Walker. I may have underestimated the route."

"It is a long way from the east coast all the way up here, you must be tired."

"In fact I am."

The silence is heavy but neutral. Both men are trying to figure out what type of man stands in front of them. Before heading inside John offers him a handshake, Robert returns it with a surprising firmness. 

"Bob is just fine."

"It stays Father Walker to you."

"Of course." There is a slight mockery in Bob's tone but John ignores it. Again it's not his first time dealing with the so-called troublemakers he just wants to figure out what Bob’s crime was. Normally it was either drug abuse or other non-violent crimes such as theft or illegal gambling. 

After a short stroll through the small church John shows Bob his new room. 

"That is where you are staying. My room is next door. You can put up a radio if you want but no TV. This door leads to the bathroom."

"Yes, Father Walker. Did I miss dinner by any chance? I am actually starving."

"You will get used to cooking for yourself, I have some leftovers from today. I will heat them up for you."

"Thank you Father Walker, that is really generous of you."

"You know what your duties are?"

"Mainly maintenance and logistics. Assisting you and preparing the mass."

"Good, but most importantly I want you to listen to our people. This town is old and so are its residents. Some of them have a lot to tell."

"Yes, Father Walker." John cannot categorize the grin on Bob’s face. 

"One last thing. Bob, why are you here?" John tried his best to not sound judgmental; he just wanted to know what he is dealing with but Bob just bats his eyelashes at him. His words öaced in faux-innocent.

"I really don't know Father Walker. I thought I was doing well but the church must have seen it differently." 

For the last time John's eyes scan over Bob from head to toe. Too tired to ask further John nods and retreats out of the room. 

While reheating dinner John has a hard time to concentrate, his mind shifting to Bob constantly. For the first time ever John feels something in his chest. A warm, fluttering feeling, a feeling that doesn't belong there.

Still his mind wanders to Bob’s brown locks, his midnight blue eyes, his large hands. John shakes the thoughts away but what actually pulls him out of them is the smell of burnt. 

He should have knocked first. Now he stood in Bob's room, the hot plate in his hand, while Bob was right at getting ready for bed which seemingly includes sleeping shirtless. John's gaze drops to the ground, the plate ends up on the bedside table. 

"Here is your dinner, we rise with the sun."

John never went to his own room this quick. At first he sits on his bed, his thoughts going wild again. He wasn't gonna lie to himself. Bob looked good, his body in shape, some muscles showing, something John could only dream of. John's body only knew the workout of working in the garden or going on long walks. His mind wanders back to Bob, he is definitely underweight, not a lot but underweight. Before John's thoughts can become even more sinful he drops to his knees in an attempt to calm his mind with prayers. 

In the room next door Bob grins from ear to ear, proud of himself, hiding the charred magazine under his mattress. 

The next week John shows Bob everything he has to know. Their first mass together goes smoothly. They fall into a pleasant routine. John talks more at breakfast while Bob starts to fully wake up around lunchtime. They spent the time before dinner separately then met in the kitchen.

John takes a few attempts on showing Bob how to cock properly but after the smoke detector sounded the alarm for the third time John gave up. 

"I have other qualities you know?"

Oh John knows, he's seen it . John saw how Bob feeds the white furred stray every morning, never short enough of time to not place a few gentle pats. 

He also witnessed that Bob invited an older man for lunch knowing that he hasn't eaten well but also aware that the man holds too much pride to simply take some money.

He never knew what to say when people came and told them about their fates. He basically was always too caught up, already thinking about what he could do instead of say, to help the person in front of him. 

Bob's greatest quality was his heart. With all of that in John's mind he cannot even fathom why the church sent him here but sooner or later he would find out.

-------------

One night John had trouble falling asleep and so did Bob it seemed, because short to midnight John hears the showerhead going on, John doesn't mind. 

Slowly he starts to hear other sounds than just the water falling down. A sound that John is familiar with and because of the awareness he shouldn't listen. He didn't mind what Bob was doing but the sounds he made while doing it were just so, sweet. Maybe that is what the angels sound like when they call you to heaven.

John buries his head under his pillow but Bob's sounds grow louder and louder by the second. Fortunately he finally reaches his high and the moans go quiet. 

Only then John could feel that for the first time in a really long time he was hard, painfully hard and it scared him.

The next morning John has to gather all his strength to confront Bob. 

"I just wanted to let you know that the walls which separate our rooms are quite thin."

Bob just looks up at him from his breakfast. Giving his best innocent look. 

"I’m sorry I wasn't aware. Was something bothering you last night?" 

Taken aback John shakes his head and focuses back into the plate in front of him. 

After this encounter it got worse for John. He feels out of control, his eyes linger too long, his senses register everything they shouldn't. John's eyes take in every inch of Bob's skin that shows, if it is only a v-neck shirt or his sweater riding up just the tiniest bit. John smells that Bob switches his shampoo every other day. It became unbearable because besides that Bob is a nice companion, he does everything John says and even more. He sees everything that needs to be done and takes care of it immediately. John should be ashamed of himself and he is. 

If John Walker only knew that nothing of this happened to him by coincidence, Bob knew exactly what he was doing when he reached for the highest part of the shelf, making sure beforehand that John was looking in his direction. He changed his shower routine from evening to morning, knowing fully well that the smell would linger longer. To Bob this was all a game, trying to find out how long it would take to bring a devoted man of god down to his knees. 

-------------

The same night the mattress gave in under John's knees, he looked outside his window right at the stars. At this point he doesn't even know what he is praying for. For his thoughts about Bob to go away? For Bob to leave? No, deep inside he begged for permission to feel, to want without judgment. 

For the first time ever John feels guilt. For his feelings, for his thoughts. He never desired everything or anyone. Even in his adolescence when everyone around him started to explore. He never wanted to be touched, never wanted to touch someone and he was grateful for it.

Now the only thing on his mind is Bob. His broad chest, his slim waist, the sweet moans, those damn blue eyes. 

Unconsciously his hands wander into his hair, tugging at the scalp a little too rough. He should write to the church that they need to find another place for Bob.  

The thought is fast forgotten. Here they are again, the sweet moans. This time they sound more desperate, deeper, with a trace of longing. 

John pressed his eyes together trying to focus on anything else but it was no use. Still on his knees his hand wanders between his tights. Over clothes at first but it doesn't stay there too long. 

It wasn't that John never did everything to relieve himself but it was rare and most times he thought about nothing while doing it. Most of the time it felt like a job that needed to be done. 

Now with Bob's moans shyly coming through those stupid thin walls it felt good, so unnatural good. Even though Bob started earlier than John, he catches up with him. 

"Oh god, forgive me Father."

That's it, those simple words John has heard a hundred times, spoken them a thousand times they bring John over the edge. 

His tongue spilling blood into his own mouth while suppressing a deep groan. Never ever has his high hurt this much but never felt it that good.

John falls forward his head on the soft pillow when the feeling of the high is gone guilt creeps into him, silent tears soaking the white sheets. 

The next morning both men sit at breakfast, for once John is not in the mood to talk and Bob notices. 

"You are awfully quiet this morning, everything alright?" Oh Bob knows, he knows exactly what is going on in John's mind and he enjoys every second of it. He deepens his voice so that John has to listen to him.

"You're still interested in knowing why I am here, Father Walker?" 

John nearly chokes on his toast and nods. It was unusual for Bob being this talkative in the early hours to begin with and now John would finally get an answer. 

"Well a priest may or may not have caught me with another soon-to-be deacon. We were just having a little fun, nothing too serious."

John wants to say something but Bob is faster. 

"Don’t quote leviticus on me now, thou shall not lay with mankind as with womankind it's an abomination, got it but Leviticus also said that you're not supposed to trim your beard."

It was not like John wanted to quote that to begin with and before he can protest, flinch or literally do anything, Bob's fingertips land on his chin burring themselves in the end of his beard.  

"This looks very trimmed to me, maybe we just need to choose our sins with intention."

John is too stunned to say anything and just lets Bob leave. John is left with his own thoughts again, finally able to put the pieces together.

They don't talk before mass. Bob can clearly see that John is fighting some inner demons and he relishes every second of it. 

But, whatever goes through John's mind comes to a halt during mass. He stands there, with a presence Bob has never seen before. 

This time Bob actually watches and listens. He sees how every person on the pews nods after his words, how their eyes fill with hope. 

After mass an elderly couple approached them and while Bob already starts to panic, he has never been good at talking with people but John welcomes them with a god-like grace. 

They tell that their daughter and son-in-law recently died in a car accident. Bob listens but it's John who knows what to say. He comforts them to an extent Bob could only dream of and as the conversation goes on it’s Bob's chest that tightens with guilt. John was not like the men he met before. When the woman falls into John's arms crying and pressing out choked thank you’s it's over for Bob. 

He swears to him that he will do his best to leave this place as fast as possible, so John can go back to the quiet life he deserves. 

Later that day the silence between them is unbearable for the both of them but Bo is brave enough to break it.

"Can you teach me from now on?"

John just raises an eyebrow in confusion. 

"I think I am not making the progress I should, so when time allows it maybe you can teach me?"

"Sure, I am just a little surprised. Where does the eagerness come from?"

Bob stars down on his plate and shrugs. John doesn't poke any further. 

Over the course of the next few weeks Bob becomes an excellent student. Remembering everything John teaches him. Bob even writes himself small memory cards and practises with them when John is not there. 

Bob is so caught up in his studies that he doesn't see the way John looks at him, how his gaze always lingers a second too long, how his eyes wander up and down Bob's body. How John comes a little close to take in Bob's smell. 

One evening they sit together at dinner, John praising Bob for his progress in all his enthusiasm in John's hand lands on Bob knee squeezing it just in the slightest. 

The gesture makes sure that Bob’s cheeks turn into rosy petals. John withdraws his hand instantly. 

"Well, I am proud of my progress too. Just a few more weeks and then you're rid of me."

The way Bob says it breaks John's heart, wondering what he did that Bob seemingly doesn't want to stay here any longer.

"You don't like it here?"

"I do, I love it here but I think you deserve to not have to take care of me."

"It doesn't feel like I have to take care of you." 

Bob blinks a few times, moved by the confession. His head shoots up to the same height as Johns, only then Bob realizes how close they are. He can practically feel John's warm breath on his face. 

And John? John stares, his eyes fixed on Bob's lips. He is not hiding, he has no intention to and of course Bob notices. 

"John, I- I forgot to check the mail." With that Bob sprints out of the kitchen heading for the small office. It wasn't even a lie Bob really forgot to check the mail. 

One letter is from the church, so it must be pretty important. While reading it, Bob feels John's presence in the room, he feels how he comes closer by the heat he radiates and soon enough Bob feels John's familiar breath on the back of his neck. 

Slowly John's hand takes Bob's, in which he holds the letter. 

"Father, what are you doing?" 

"Are you afraid of me?" 

"Afraid? I could never be afraid of you."

"Well, I am afraid of you. That you will be the reason why I will never see heaven, that I will burn in hell for eternity." 

"John stop, please."

"But what would be the point of salvation if it means that I never get to have you."

"You don’t know what you are saying."

The letter glides to the floor while John's lips softly press onto Bob’s who has a hard time giving in. That is until John's large warm hand moves to his waist firmly, the other cups Bob’s face. 

"You said that we should choose our sins with intention? I choose mine to be you."

Bob's hands land on John's broad chest to Bob's dislike; he needs to push him away, for the sake of air and unspoken words. 

"I- We can’t do this I- I am sorry. I will leave okay? I tell the church that you couldn't put up with me that I was too much-"

"No, you will not. You will stay here with me. You're not backing out now, I made my decision." 

Bob didn't have a doubt about that. John looked at him like a man possessed, by the way his eyes darkened maybe he was. 

Their mouths collided again and this time Bob allowed himself to let go. His tongue explored every corner of John's mouth. 

It's John's who breaks the kiss this time. 

"It’s your time to return the teaching." 

That's when it dawns Bob. He is standing in front of a man who knows everything and nothing at the same time. 

"Well then, let's start with something where you have to do nothing, Father."

Precise Bob pushes John through the room until he lands on the wooden chair behind the desk. 

John is a blushing mess at this point. Bob on the other hand is ectasis, wanting to unwrap John like a Christmas present. 

With a last deep kiss Bob whispers into John's ear. 

"Tell me when it becomes too much." Bob hasn't the patience to wait for a response, he drops to his knees immediately going straight to work. 

"Oh god." John is already breathless when Bob wraps his hand around his cock. 

"Oh this isn't the best part yet, Father." John's eyes blow wide looking helplessly down at Bob who just sticks tongue out and winks up at John. 

Bob was right, that is definitely the better part. Bob's tongue gliding up and down John's hard cock, from tip to shaft. When Bob takes John's length in all at once Johns screams half in pleasure half in overwhelmness. 

John's body falls slack, his muscles tensing and relaxing alternately. His hand falls loosely on Bob's head.

"If you keep doing it like this, I am not going to last long."

"Oh no, that would be such a shame."

Bob takes up just the tiniest bit of speed but John is not having it. He holds Bob by his head. 

"I want you to go slower. I will savour every second of this."

And Bob does as he is told, until his body starts to shake from kneeling on the hard, wooden floor. Until his gags mix with small whimpers only then John pushes Bob's head down a little, gesturing for him to bring it to an end. 

Bob looks up at John while working him over the edge. John's soft hand gently resting on his cheek. When John comes down Bob's throat with a loud animalic groan, his eyes rolling into his head, that is the moment when Bob sees it. 

He finally found what he was looking for all the time, someone who is patient and full of love, a saviour. Bob remains in place until they both catched their breath. John then pulls him up by the armpit, right into his lap. 

"You will not leave me right?"

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't." While they kiss, John's hand shamelessly roams between Bob's tights until Bob gets ahold of it, looking John directly into the eyes. 

"We have a problem."

Again John is confused while Bob looks down at the forgotten letter.

"The church, they are sending someone else."

To say that you were nervous would have been an underestimation. Constantly scrunching the fabric of your habit. Your rosary wrapped around your hand as if someone would come and actually take you away from this hell. 

You tried your best the last few years but it was never good enough, so the Nunnery sent you away. To someone who would teach you, discipline you, that's what they told you. 

You expected someone tall, huge with firm hands and a constant frown on his face. Well Priest Walker had all of that but he seemed to be accompanied by durable sunshine.

The smile he had on his face when you arrived made you weak in the knees and still it made the situation even worse. 

Priest Walker showed you your room; it was at the opposite of the building as his and Deacon Reynolds. Then he left you alone and didn't bother to show up for the next few days. 

It was Deacon Reynolds or rather Bob, who showed you around and that was it. It scared you even more, if Priest Walker wouldn't send the church any news of your progress you may be stuck here forever. And at the same time you were constantly on the edge waiting for something to happen. You were here for a reason after all. 

So one evening after walking up and down your room you decided to confront him. The knock on his door is soft but he hears you regardless. 

"Come in."

When you enter the room Father Walker's eyes are on you immediately with a small smile on his lips as if he is happy to see you, you can not think of a reason why. 

Bob is there too, sitting on the right side of the table hunched over a stack of papers. 

"How can I be of service to you?" 

"Well Father, I need to talk to you."

He says nothing, only gestures to the empty chair. You sit down making sure there is some proper distance between you and them. 

"Is it okay if Robert sits with us during our talk?" 

"Yes, of course."

"Then tell me Sister what brought you here this lovely evening?"

"I want to know when my lessons start. I want to learn as soon as possible and as much as possible."

"Well Bob and I, we decided it's best to give you time and space. A new place, people you don't know. That can be quite overwhelming."

"It is Father." You seem lost in your thoughts and John catches that your body starts to shake just a little but it's notable to him.

"You haven't taken your vows yet Sister, why?"

"Because the church thinks I am not ready." 

Bob takes a deep breath. John's voice stays firm but without a trace of judgment. 

"And do you know why the church thinks that?" 

You promised yourself not to cry but it was no use, the tears were already falling down into your lap. 

"I was betrothed to a man my family was fond of. Our marriage was sealed when we were twelve."

Bob had a hard time staying calm. Just the idea to betroth two literal children makes his blood boil. John stayed composed, for you and for himself alike. 

"A few weeks before our planned wedding he came into our house, into my room. He told me that he can’t wait to finally marry me. He told me that he loves me."

You try to swallow the pain in the back of your throat down. You started this story and you will tell everything part of it.  

"He came closer to me. He kissed me, he touched me where only husband and wife are allowed to touch each other and it felt good." 

Both men stay quiet, so you go on. 

"I told him that we should wait. That we are so close to getting married but he wanted to continue. He told me that he wants to see if I am worthy of being his wife and of course I did what he wanted." 

You bury your face in your hands. 

"I thought I was being good. The next day he told my parents, that he wants to undo the betrothal because I strayed from the path and my parents believed him! They didn't even listen to me, their own daughter…"

You choke on your sobs trying to get a hold. Not seeing the terrified look John and Bob throw at each other. 

"My whole life I behaved the way they wanted me too. I stayed ahead in class, I attended every church mass, every event, I stayed away from everything and everyone they seemed sinful or unworthy and they paid me by sending me into a nunnery." 

Now your sobs turned bitter, your eyes fixating on the Priest in front of you. 

"Bob, I really don’t know what to do with her. I mean, yes she had sex outside of mirrage but this man, he instigated her to do it." 

"It is never enough. Nothing that I do seems to be enough to make up for my sins. I never wanted any of this, still I tried my best to please them. So you tell me Father Walker, why am I here?"

-------------

"Listen, her family will never take her back. They wanted to get rid of her and they did. She has no place to go. The best thing you can do is to let her stay here."

"How are we supposed to convince her that we are on her side? Bob, everytime I stand in her presence it feels like she is scared of me. How am I supposed to fix this? To fix her?"

"No person is beyond repair. Give her time to adjust. Maybe start by offering her that she doesn't have to wear the habit the whole time. I think what she needs is freedom, actual freedom."

"Try to keep an eye on her, okay? I am afraid that I will just scare her further away."

"Sure, it's not like there is a lot going on here anyway. Can we take next Wednesday off?"

John just nods absentmindedly and Bob places a peck on his cheek already planning the getaway.

But before Wednesday comes Tuesday obviously. You freeze in your spot because someone is shouting your name and it is not Bob. The panic floods your body, still you're following the voice to its source.

When you arrive in Father Walker's Office Bob is already there with his head bowed to the floor. 

"Okay, which one of you let the window open overnight?" 

You knew it was Bob. You both knew that regardless you took a step forward now with your head bowed too. 

"That was me Father. I beg you for your forgiveness."

John’s and Bob's chests bloom with something close to pride at your confession, willingly taking the blame to protect the other. It is simply a test and you passed.

"You are forgiven-." 

What they didn't expect was for you to take the wooden ruler out of one of the drawers, placing it in John's hand and presenting your hands to him. 

John is too shocked to speak, his mouth slightly open until Bob clears his throat. 

"We um- We don’t do this here Sister." You blink up at him not knowing what to do. “You can leave.” And so you do. 

"God what did they do to her?" 

"You do know that is common practice, right? One beating I got was so intense that I couldn't lay on my back for a whole week."

John doesn't know what to say. He just stands there looking at Bob, his eyes heavy with a deep sadness which slowly fills his heart. 

"Do you think I was this thin by choice when I first came here?" 

John rests his elbows on his desk burying his face in his hands. 

"I should quit." 

"What? John, what are you talking about?"

Silent tears land on John's robe. 

"This isn't how it's supposed to be. Church is about service, commitment, and love not pointless prayers and punishment." 

Bob's eyes soften just as much as his heart, carefully making his way over to John, ending with Bob sitting comfortably in his lap, hugging him tight. 

"That is the reason I want to stay here forever. John you're everything what it's supposed to be. You're generous, patient and so full of love. You actually listen to people you give them what they need."

Gentle but firm Bob strokes John's hair out of his face. Forcing him to look him directly in the eyes. 

"This system is broken but you're doing everything right, you're every good part of it, never doubt that again."

"I love you."

"I love you too." 

-------------

The knock on the door is soft and still it makes you jump.

"Come in, whoever it is."

"Good morning Sister. I will make my way to the next largest city, want to come with me?" 

"Yeah, sure i just need to change back into my-" 

"I thought Father Walker told you that you don’t have to wear it all the time?"

"He did but I thought-" 

"Stop the thinking for a while, you look just fine." 

"Is he still angry with me?" 

It takes Bob a few seconds to understand what you mean. 

"He was never angry with you to begin with. I don’t think he is capable of anger at least towards someone else than himself."

The smile Bob gives you is genuine and you actually believe him. 

A good thirty minutes later he parks the car for your first stop, the pharmacy. 

"Do you need anything?"

"I do but I should get it myself. Really." Your cheeks warm up in a matter of seconds, the embarrassment written all over your face and Bob reads you like an open book. 

"I will be back in five."

He only needs four and comes back with two plastic bags in hand, he shoves one into your lap.

Pain Meds, heating patches, chocolate and…

"How do you know I use these?" 

"Honestly? Father Walker told me to check on your heating system in your bathroom and I saw them laying around."

That made completely sense. After your first night you told Father Walker that the heater in your bathroom wouldn't heat at all. 

Still you don't know if you should feel thankful or more ashamed.

"Don’t worry your pretty head too much, there is nothing to feel shameful about."

You start to wonder if Bob can actually read minds. He doesn't even ask you where you want to go next. He knows that you have no idea since you were never given the freedom to figure out what you enjoy. 

First stop is the record store. He buys you a regular cd-player, a portable one and some headphones. 

"I suggest you choose one cd from each genre."

Completely overwhelmed, you blindly grab one from each section. Bob hovers over the Alternative Rock ones patiently waiting for you. 

Next comes the book store. You don't exactly know why but the overall smell of the store fills you with joy. 

"Please don't tell me to pick one from each genre too." 

That draws a laugh out of him. 

"Maybe just choose enough for the next three weeks." 

You nod, you grab something from the best selling list. One just sheerly for the cover. One children's book with cute animals on it, out of curiosity. Bob carries all of them back to the car for you. 

It's already short after three when you two come to a stop at your last destination. 

"I need a new sweatshirt since the temperature starts to go down, wanna come with me?" 

Your first instinct is to politely deny his offer but he is right, some warm sweaters could come in quite handy. 

While he is changing you stroll around the store, already with a few sweaters in hand. That's when your eyes land on a different piece of clothing. Without thinking you hang it into the dress room before Bob can see. 

When he comes out the sight makes you laugh so hard that the saleswoman shoots you a scolding glance. The pose he strikes doesn't make it better. 

"That is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen."

"But on me it looks good, right?" 

"If I say no will you put it back?" 

"I am going to buy it, doesn't matter what you're saying." 

While he returns back into his changing room you try on your sweatshirt too. Since you choose the same one in three different colors it doesn't take you long. 

"Are you still trying them on?" 

"I am already finished."

"That is unfair, I wanted a fashion show too."

You giggle he sounds like a child forbidden from eating candy before dinner. Your eyes land on the piece of clothing that's waiting for you, maybe you could be brave for once. 

The sharp sound of the curtain getting pulled to the side lets Bob gaze shoot up. You see him swallow thickly. 

"Wow." 

The dress is not revealing by any means but the color lets your skin glow and the fabric hugs you in all the right places. You feel so confident all of a sudden that you do a light twirl. 

"That's definitely not a sweatshirt." 

Bob could have punched himself right after the words left his mouth. 

Your smile falters, your posture hunches. 

"Sorry that was stupid, I will take it off." 

Bob lunges towards you, so close that you can see every little stubble on his chin.

"You like it?" 

You nod not daring to say a word you remember that you didn't even check the price. Your hand moves to the tag but Bob's hand stops yours. 

"You like it? We're getting it."

The same day after dinner Bob proudly tells about the shopping trip after he showed off that awful sweater, at which John also has to laugh, his eyes pierced right through you. 

"We also brought a dress." 

"A dress?" There was scolding in John's voice not because of the dress itself but rather because John was offended that you hadn't told him sooner. 

Now you're standing in the kitchen twirling around, while both of them watch you. Even though you still feel a little bashful you can't deny that it feels good being looked at. That they look at you. 

"You did a really good job picking that out." 

"See I told you, you look great."

"Its just so wasteful, I don't have any reason to wear it." 

"Just wear it around here when the temperatures allow it. I think that is fine. Right Father Walker?" 

"Yeah of course."

You leave the room to change back into something more fitted for the chill weather. When you're out of sight John lets out a small groan. 

"Don't you think you made me suffer enough?" 

"Not quite enough, no." 

"Did you bring the stuff from the pharmacy?" 

"Someones eager to try something new I see." 

"Stop being like that." 

"Like what, Father?" 

Bob's hand already disappeared under John's robe. Pulling him down by his silver cross necklace to kiss him.

"We are still in the kitchen." 

"Then maybe you should take me to your bedroom."

Right after finishing his sentence Bob is swept off his feet. Next he lands softly on John's bed. 

"Should I help you with that old man? Not that you strain anything." 

Bob grabs the hem of John's robe but John pushes his hands away, pulling the fabric over his own head in a swift motion. 

"I said there is no punishment here but maybe I need to make an exception for you." 

Bob swallows hard while John positions himself over him. A few moments later with every last piece of clothing gone Bob would now find out what true punishment was. 

John was kissing every part of his body like it was his last day on earth while having all the time in the world. 

After five minutes Bob already starts to squirm under his touch. 

"John I know this is your first time and you want to take things slow but if you don't start right now I think I am going to explode." 

With a small bite right under Bob's ribs he looks up at him, seeing Bob as the mess he already is. 

"That bad huh?"  

Bob just nods frantically. 

"John please I need you, now."

"You don't have to beg, just let me take care of you."

John's warm fingers are a stark but welcomed contrast to the cold lube. John takes too long, actually he doesn't but Bob is impatient. After a good 15 minutes of John adding more and more fingers until Bob is nothing more than a whimpering mess he scratches John's chest, slightly just for attention.

"John please, I'm ready." 

Carefully John withdraws his fingers, replacing them with his cock. Blowing him off was one thing, taking him was something else entirely. 

"Hey Bob, you're still with me?"

With his hazed out look and with the tip of his tongue sticking out you could really think Bob went unconscious but this was better, way better. 

"Yes John, just don’t stop okay?"

"Are you sure you look a little-" 

Oh Bob is sure, so he uses his heels to push John down further which makes Bob moan louder than expected. 

"You really don't know what is good for you" 

When John fully bottoms out both swear they were in heaven. 

"God it- you feel so good Bobby."

Bob couldn't hold back a smirk. His forehead was already covered in thick sweaty pearls. 

"Told you." 

Lazy and lost in pleasure John starts to move. The bed giving away their sinful play. John makes sounds not a lot different to a feral animal while Bob tries to hide his ecstasy in a pillow. 

Bob's hand lands soft on John's cheek. 

"If you continue like this she will not only hear us but think that you are killing me in here." 

John turns red from ear to ear stopping his movement but Bob is not having it, closing his arms around John's neck and pulling him down John's hands reminding firmly on Bob's waist. 

Now the bed was the only traitor. 

"Bob, I'm sorry I am already so close." 

"And you will not finish what you started?" Bob's voice was only a breeze dancing through John's ears but it was enough to make him let go. 

Right after his high John fully collapses onto Bob not realizing that he was also approaching his high, the sudden touch draws an ungodly loud moan out of Bob's mouth. John is fast enough to cover the second half of it. 

"Youre a hypocrite you know that?" 

"How was I supposed to know that you-"

Bob can not end his sentence, John's mouth is back on his swallowing every short breath and drop of sweat his tongue could reach.

When he had enough for now his head lowers down on Bob's chest, his hands around his waist, his cock still buried inside him. 

Bob embraces John's weight on him, placing strokes up and down his back. 

"Your good?" 

"Sorry that I was so fast I will make it up to you, I promise." John's words were muffled, placing kisses on Bob's chest. 

"Dont worry too much about it, I think we're even." 

John doesn't have to look; he feels the stickiness between them. Eventually after a long time of laying still they decide its best to clean up before going to bed. 

The next morning you have a hard time keeping your eyes open. Father Walker's voice lets you jolt in your spot. 

"Everything alright? Didn't get any sleep last night?" 

"I uhm, I was being kept awake by noise, well not noise, sounds." 

Bob stops his movements over the stove completely. 

"What are you talking about?"

"Well I intended to only listen through one, but I ended up listening through all of them."

"So you're talking about music?" 

"Yes I went on with the portable CD-player and headphones to not interrupt your sleep. What else should I be talking about?"

Bob and John throw each other a look you can't read and Bob just shrugs his shoulders and reaches over his head to grab something from the cupboard. 

"Oh my god, Bob!" 

Both men frighten at the horror in your voice. 

"You're waist. It looks like you tried fighting a bear!"

Now Bob had to think quickly. 

"Well, I went to the kitchen last night without turning the light on, didn't want to wake everyone up and ran into the doorframe with full force."

Bob tried his best but you were not believing it, that was for sure. And John the idiot he could be sometimes chimes in. 

"Yeah, you are really clumsy Bob." 

Your eyes were on him in a matter of seconds. Your head running wild Father Walker showed you kindness before he would never hurt Bob, right? 

A few hours later your worries would disappear. You wanted to see after Bob, asking him about the bruises under four eyes. You are short to knocking until you hear Father Walker's voice in Bob's room. 

"I’m sorry that seems to hurt a lot." 

"I told you it's fine just stop touching." 

"Just let me apply the rest."

Your chest feels lighter now but if none of you were the reason for Bob's bruises then who or what else was? 

You lay in your bed going through your stack of books and one catches your attention. You're sure you didn't pick it up at the store still curiosity got the best of you and you start reading. 

It’s a romance novel, you can't tell if it's a good one since it's your first but your not putting it to the side for the next two hours. 

When the couple finally comes together you are only halfway through the book. 

“He is slowly kissing down at the side of her throat, devouring her, savouring her, getting lost in every breath she takes.”

You feel your own breath start to quicken, your eyes glued to the pages entirely. 

“He reaches down between her legs slowly rubbing her thights.” 

Unconsciously your hand wanders down to your own thight. 

”He reaches higher, placing gentle circles on her soft spot.” 

A short moan escapes from your lips and you want to continue your reading until a loud cry lets you shoot up. 

You sprint immediately to Bob's room, you would recognize his voice between thousands.

What you find when you storm inside, unannounced, is not what you expected. 

A whimpering Bob, his hands holding onto the bedsheets with Father Walker bobbling up and down between his tights. 

Their eyes fall on you and you cover your own with both hands. 

"I didn't saw anything." Before they can even get a chance to say something you're running back to your room, eyes fixed on the ground. 

You hear them running after you but you had a head start so you were faster. Once inside your room you lock the door falling into your bed, using your pillow to cover your ears. 

"We are sorry, that wasn't meant for your eyes, please let us explain." 

"We just want to talk okay. This has nothing to do with you." 

You change tactics, the headphones covering your ears just perfectly blurring out everything around you. 

At first the only thing you feel is shame that you saw them, shame about what you saw them doing, then remorse if you just had knocked before entering you wouldn't have to carry the burden of knowing now. 

Then an unfamiliar feeling hits you, envy. How could they even dare to do anything like this while you were under the same roof. You were jealous of Father Walker. The way he kissed down Bob’s belly, how he was allowed to touch him skin to skin. 

In the next second you become jealous of Bob craving to be touched the way Father Walker did. 

Meanwhile in the kitchen John has a silent panic attack while Bob hyperventilates within full capacity of his lungs. 

You didn't know you were causing this much problems. You were actually expecting to be sent away the next day but nobody comes to drag you out. 

You steal your way around knowing fully well when they are doing service but after two days Father Walker outsmarted you. 

Right after placing your plate in the dishwasher he cages you with his body. You hammer against him, not in the mood for a confrontation yet but he doesn't care. 

"Listen, you can do whatever you want, okay? But please I beg you, don't tell anyone."

When he says he begs you he means it. Seeing him on his knees asking you for such a simple thing in hopes of knowing Bob is safe, your heart stings again. So this is what it must feel like when you're truthly loved. 

You snort at him kinda offended that he really thinks that you would tell anybody. Did it even cross his mind that no one would believe your words against his anyway? 

"Father, I promise nobody will know, not from me. But maybe the two of you should learn how to stay quiet at least when we have guests."

After that you three ate together again but it felt different, the air felt heavy, there were no slight jokes, no discussions, only silence. 

You don't know why but everything they say and do annoys you and it ends with you leashing out at them more often than not and they let it slide. 

That is until one night you're standing in front of the bookshelf in Father Walker's office dusting and reorganizing when Bob shly opens the door. 

"Hey uhm, have a minute?" It's the way he is asking, his words are so unsteady, his gaze avoiding you, acting like a kicked dog. 

You roll your eyes and soak in a deep breath, you wouldn't even give him a glance.

"Cant you see I’m busy, Robert?"

"Okay that's it." The book in your hand falls to the ground with a loud thud, your back hits the bookshelf and Bob pins your wrist against it. 

"What is your damn problem hm? Do you have fun making John misrable?"

"Bob, what are you talking about?" 

"Your attitude is getting on my last nerve. This affair, it's not your problem so why are you such a pain in the ass?" 

His words hit hard. You didn't know an answer to his question but he read the answer off your face. 

He has this stupid smirk on his face tilting his head to the side. 

“You're jealous."

"Dont make a fool of yourself." Now you're the one to stumble out words. His nose brushes the side of your neck and your ability to think disappears. 

"Tell me who are you jealous of? Him touching me or me touching him?" 

You can't speak, you don't have to, Bob knows the answer already. 

"It’s both right?" You nod and that is all Bob needs. His lips are so soft on yours, his warm hands holding your hips against the shelf then it's all gone. 

"Is everything alright in here?" You shouldn't curse a Priest but you broke literally everything the bible contains so it doesn't matter anymore. 

"Yeah, she tripped against the shelf and one of the books fell out." He picks the book up and puts it back in its place, giving you a wink before turning away from you. 

Leaving you all alone, standing on shaky legs processing everything that just happened. 

The breakfast next morning is awkward, for you. Bob on the other hand seemed to be on good terms with his actions not showing even a wink of remorse. While you're nearly combusting from guilt he even has the nerve to give John a peck on the cheek. 

"Is everything alright? You look as if you saw a ghost?" You can hear that John really worries about your well-being. A tear stealing its way onto your face. 

"Everything’s fine, really." 

Oh if you would have only seen the look of disapproval he had directed towards Bob, John knew fully well that he did something, the question is what. 

While you were caught up in your books John pushed Bob against the wall in the corridor. They thought they were being quiet but you could hear every word. 

"What did you do this time Bobby?"

"Nothing she didn't want."

John's hands wander up to the collar of Bob's shirt, grabbing and pressing him harder against the cold wall.

"Okay okay it was a kiss. Nothing more nothing less, don’t tell me you're jealous now." 

The grip loosens. 

"No one ever taught you patience, right?"

"Come on, she definitely enjoyed it judging by the way she leaned into my touch."

"Fucking Bastard."

They couldn't do anything about it. You storm out of your room, John steps to the side letting go of Bob. The echo of your slap is loud and present. 

"You kissed me, asshole. It was him, I did nothing wrong." You turn to Father Walker, tears running down your rage filled face. 

"I will never take the blame again for something that isn't my fault!" John scans over Bob looking for a sight that he needs help but he just nods in your direction. 

You feel a warm big hand on your back, gently shoving you away. 

"Let's take this somewhere where we can talk alone, just you and me." 

While you and John head off to your room Bob is still in shock and more importantly in surprise. Utterly impressed by your strong slap. 

You fall down to your bed, hiding your face in your hands. Scared of what will happen next, now you feel bad for hurting Bob but the anger made you blind. 

Next to you you feel your mattress dip. John sat down next to you with all the strength inside you you have left you dare to look him in the eyes and you're met with nothing but compassion and a sadness equal to yours. 

Careful not to irritate you he takes your hands in his, gently guiding you towards him. It is overwhelming at first. His breath, his smell, the warmth he radiates but after a few moments you give in fully. 

Your body falling heavy against his, your head resting on his chest, his hand carefully rubbing your back. After what feels like hours your body gives up, your eyes fall shut. 

The next day you just feel off. Completely confused by what happened with Father Walker the evening before and the feelings that come with it. The warmth that emanated from him, his big hand on your back giving you the comfort you've been searching for, for so long. Then comes the guilt, you shouldn't have laid your hand on him, he was the closest you had to an actual friend here even though it always felt like there was something between you and him that you can't quite name. 

So what would every devoted Nun do in such a situation? Confess. You knew exactly when Father Walker sat inside the confession both, so you waited till nobody else was around and went inside. Clinging onto your rosary for dear life

Maybe you were a little naive thinking that he wouldn't recognize you. If not from your typical smell then from your voice. The words start to flood out of your mouth. 

"Forgive me father, I have sinned. I can not stop thinking about someone. The thoughts are not necessarily sinful but they are about two men. One of them I kissed, the other I wished would hold me in his arms forever. And I also might have laid a hand on one of them in anger." 

"Tell me, what are you asking for? Forgiveness or a solution?"

"I don’t know Father." Your head bows in resignation then shoots up when you realize that the door to your side opens. In front of you stands Father Walker he looks kind of flushed and slightly tense. He offers you his hand. 

"May I offer you something?"

You don't ask, you don’t hesitate, you just take his hand and let him guide you. The door to his Office is open and your eyes meet Bob's immediately. You want to say something but Father Walker is faster than you. 

"I think we should start with some lessons." 

It feels weird to say the least. As if they changed roles. Bob looks at you from head to toe and then talks over your head. 

"Are you sure she is ready?"

Panic starts to slowly creep into your chest, robbing you of air. You miss Father Walker's subtle nod and Bob comes closer to you. 

"Do you trust us?"

"How could I not?"

Bob takes your hand and leads you over to the desk, then he leans in whispering into your ear. 

"Sit." And you do even though you are not sure why. Bob gestures for Father Walker to come over and he sits down on the chair, right in front of you. He even inches the chair a little closer. 

"So today will be a double lesson. You will learn to enjoy something that is meant for you, only." Bob's eyes basically pin you onto the desk. "And our pretty little Priest here will learn how to be of service to you." 

You want to say something because this isn't right, whatever this is but you can’t. Your brain seems not to work anymore. 

"Who would have thought I'd ever say it but it is a good thing you're wearing the habit today, makes things easier."

Gentle John preps your legs up on the desk. His hands slowly start to go up your legs. Bob comes closer to you. 

"Did you read the book I brought you?" His smirk is borderline devilish. It hits you like a truck you understand now where this is going. Still you don’t know what to do so Bob decides for you. 

"Lets make you a little more comfortable." He cooed at you. Carefully he takes your wrists so you're fully spread out. 

Then John's hands reach their destination just the smallest friction is enough to get a small whimper out of you. 

Bob is back on John's side taking everything in and showing him what to do. You feel that your panties are going down your legs, the chillness lets you shudder. 

"So now you start small, short licks, work your way from the inside out." And John does, he starts on the inside of your thights and eventually reaches your soft spot. 

"Oh god." Your back arches off the desk, your head throws back your fingernails dig deep into the wood under you. 

John pulls back just the slightless. 

"She tastes like heaven Bob."

"I would never doubt that. Now do one long drag add a little pressure."

The moan John then gets out of you is deep and raw. You squirm heavily, his hands shoot up to your hips, holding you in place. 

Frantically you shake your head from left to right. 

"This is- this is not right. It's too much." 

Bob brings his attention back to you while John mercylessly works his tongue over you. 

"Don’t worry I know it's a lot but John will make you feel so good, I promise." Bob now places gentle kisses onto the side of your neck and you give in completely. 

"Okay John now, you see that part? Put it between your lips and suck."

"God I’m -I’m not sure if I can take this much longer." You're practically breathless at this point despite the coldness of the season sweat clings onto your body. 

"Let's add a finger now.” You wonder if it is Bob's intention to actually kill you. John does as he is told, then he adds a second, then a third. 

"Curl them up, just slightly." 

"Oh god please I can’t anymore I learned my lesson, please."

"You heard that John? She learned her lesson, now it's time for you to complete yours."

Bob takes your hand and stokes your head in reassurance while John basically pulls you apart. Something inside you snaps and you scream in pleasure. Your vision goes white all the muscles in your body relax at the same time. 

John is careful now, not wanting to overstimulate you. He retreats slowly from between your legs looking up at you completely and utterly lovedrunk. His beard soaked with every drop you gave him. 

You feel that Bob leaves your side. He is all over John now kissing and licking his lips, pulling out every small drop of you he can get. 

And while you watch them, eyes heavy, mind fogged there is something new manifesting inside of you, greed. 

It starts small, lingering touches, stolen kisses, nothing too outrageous. Everything feels lighter now and still there is this burning desire inside you that screams for more. 

But even though the air between the three of you is fresh and clean you notice that something is not right with Bob. 

More often than not he doesn't make it to breakfast, he skips lunch entirely and at dinner he looks at his plate as if it just told him the most devastating story.

John notices too, by the middle of November he doesn't remember anymore when Bob last laughed. 

So one evening you decide to do a small intervention. He hasn't touched his plate yet again.

"Do you want me to cook something different next time?" 

Bob shakes his head in a no but still doesn't touch his food. You place your hand over his. 

"We are worried about you." 

"You don’t have to. This season is simply wearing me down." 

"Are you sure that is the only reason?"

John suddenly feels bad, he never really asked Bob how he got in contact with the church in the first place. 

“Bobby, you told me the reason why the church sent you here. But why did you choose to become a Deacon in the first place?” 

You stare at John for his blunt question, Bob is definitely not in the mood to talk.

“I had nowhere else to go. My dad kicked me out cause I was useless in his eyes. He sent me to this church training camp and I never went back home. I was thirteen." 

"Do you miss your home?"

"Oh hell no. My dad used to beat the shit out of me." 

"God Bob, I didn’t know." 

He doesn't even cry, he just stares, into the void. The look John and you share while hugging Bob as tight as possible says it all. 

Over the course of the next few days John and you were plotting behind closed doors and under whispered breaths. Determined to show Bob how loved he actually is. 

You sneak up on him when he is nose deep in a book, your arms caging his torso from behind already placing deep kisses onto his neck. 

His posture relaxes immediately, his mouth opens just the slightest short breaths escaping in an unregular pattern.

"What are you doing?"

"Just giving you the love you deserve."

"I’m not in the mood for a lesson today." 

"This will not be a lesson by any means, I promise."

You take him by the hand. Inside his bedroom and already flustered, John lays on his bed, with nothing but his boxers to cover him. 

The sight makes Bob weak in the knees, you can see it. John raises just slightly, gesturing for Bob to come over to him and he makes himself comfortable in John's lap. 

The kisses are all consuming and sloppy, nearly making you forget why you came here in the first place. 

Starting with your blouse you start to get rid of your own clothes, Bob’s gaze lands on you stays, now John places deep kisses on Bob's neck. You're sure you can already see the outlines of some forming bruises. 

Unlike John you decide to go all in, standing bare naked in front both of them while John is seemingly incapable of closing his mouth, Bob starts to drool. 

Yes you're nervous but hell that is faster forgotten than it came by the way they look at you. You walk over to the bed, laying down making sure that Bob is now positioned between your legs. 

Behind the water in Bob’s eyes you see it, the uncontrollable lust, so you get rid of his shirt for him while John goes to work on his lower half. 

You will never get enough of the way Bob kisses you, always hesitant at first but sooner than not his tongue will always find its way inside your mouth. 

He eventually breaks the kiss panting like crazy. "Can I?" His eyes are locked on your breasts and you give him permission. 

His tongue on your sensitive buds is even better; it makes your body jolt off the bed just slightly. You take the chance and exchange a short look with John who is massaging Bob's tights. You indicate to him that he should begin. 

"Oh fuck." Both you and John stop, surprised by Bob’s choice of words but he doesn't even seem to notice. 

John continues his devious work with his tongue and you start to gently rub Bob cheek. 

"I told you this would be far away from a lesson, just relax."

And it would drift even more away from what Bob thought this would be. Somehow he ended up with his mouth between your legs while John prepped him with his fingers. 

You can not help yourself, your hands bury themself in his hair and your hips thrust up and down given the sounds Bob lets out he enjoys it more than you would have thought. 

Before you can get completely lost in John who seeks your attention, he is ready. You pull Bob back up holding his head between your hands. 

"It’s okay." Bob can not think straight anymore; it's John who moves Bob's hips from behind so that he smoothly glides into you. 

Your back arches off the bed and it takes up all your strength to not dig your nails into Bob's back. You press your teeth together but one high pitched moan escapes your lips. 

"You heard that Bobby? That’s how good you make her feel. " At the sudden praise Bob's eyes roll back into his head. 

You cup his face holding him closer to you, prepping small kisses on his face. His mouth stays in a breathless O while John makes his way inside of him. 

"You don’t have to move. Let us do everything, just relax."

And he does, his head landing on your chest when John fully bottoms out. You move your hips first just a little to help Bob to fully settle into the motion. 

John tries to go slow. He really does, you see it on his face but after the first five minutes he loses control. Nobody can blame him, that is for sure. How is he supposed to keep a sensual rhythm with this view beneath him? 

When Bob’s and your moans mix into a sweet melody John is gone completely. His hands grab Bob's hips tight, his own breath becomes frantic. Bob can not bring himself to move inside of you, he doesn't have to. His thrust hit so hard and deep that they push Bob forward again and again and again. 

At some point you can feel it, how Bob muscles tense up again, how his own hands hold more tightly onto your body. You take his head in your hands again, your own voice raspy in your throat. 

"It’s alright you can let go, we got you.”

John takes that as a cue to pick up more speed, which gives you the benefit of coming close to your high too. Your own body starts to tremble, you close your arms around Bob for support and then you see white again. John follows shortly after, the deep growl lets the hair on your arms rise. 

You don't know how long your eyes are closed but you feel that John is the first to leave his position but not before prepping small kisses all over Bob's back. You keep Bob close in your arms while John tries his best to clean the bed and also Bob. When he is finished he lays next to you erasing Bob out of your grip, giving you the chance to clean up. 

A short but thorough shower later when you come back into the room the sight of Bob practically asleep on John's chest all curled up warms your heart but at the same time you become a little uneasy. You feel as if you don't belong in this picture, you decide its best to let them be and go back to your own room but John's voice stop's you. 

"Where do you think you're going?" He tries to be quiet but Bob raises his head, he sees you standing there, unsure what to do, so he reaches his hand out to you.

The bed is definitely too small for the three of you but for now it will be enough. Bob brings his mouth close to your ear, you're sure he wants to say something but instead he give you a small kiss on the outside of your ear and then drifts completely into sleep. 

"You're still in doubt?"

You shake your head, you haven't felt so certain in a long time. After John joins Bob in the land of dreams your eyes wander to the wooden cross hanging on the wall above the bed a small huff leaves you. Maybe none of you will be granted redemption but you start to question if there can be any greater salvation than what you found here. 

Thank you for reading all the way through.💖

You want to read more?

Switched Concept: Demon John x Priest Bob

Wanna throw Drugs and Bucky into the mix?: WinterSentryagent x fem reader Drugdealers AU

Something tender with a little bit of bickering and without smut?: The SentryAgent Rom-Com

[lalalunawrites]

Smoochieverse Masterlist

(Bob Reynolds/John Walker/Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader)

When she joined the Thunderbolts, she didn't mean to start dating both John Walker and Bob Reynolds. It just...happened. And she certainly didn't mean for them to be so good sharing her...and each other.

First Starts Mini-Series:

🗲 Starting Patterns (John Walker/Reader, Bob Reynolds/Reader) - ☁️ - 1.9k You'd met both John Walker and Bob Reynolds before, of course. But that was mostly in passing or in the middle of a fight. But, within the first few weeks of moving into the Watchtower, you found yourself connecting with them in small ways, starting with a plate of bacon and a cup of hot cocoa.

🗲 Starting Points: John (John Walker/Reader)- ☁️ - 2.8k Breakfast has brought you and John back together, but this time John is acting strangely. It all starts with an unusual text message.

🗲 Starting Points: Bob (Bob Reynolds/Reader) - ☁️ - 2.3k Ever since your first impromptu movie night with Bob, you've both made a habit of watching them together on a near-nightly basis. What started as impersonal slowly morphs into something else, something more intimate.

🗲 Starting Positions (John Walker/Reader, Bob Reynolds/Reader) - 🍆 - TBA There's a first time for everything, including in the bedroom.

I Want My Boyfriends To Kiss:

🗲 Swap Spit, Lock Lips - 🍆 - 8.3k 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.

🗲 I Want My Boyfriends to Kiss - 🍆🍆🍆 - 22.5k Your boyfriends have been acting strange recently, like they're hiding something from you. After you come to find out they have some secret plans involving you, them, and a whole lotta rope, you take it upon yourself to come up with a plan of your own to turn the tables on them.

🗲 I'm Way More Wicked Than You Thought - 🍆 - TBA John Walker had a plan, one that was dashed to bits when you decided to take control that night. Now he has an even more devious one, and sweet, sweet revenge will be his.