Infamous Threesome of Infamy
Oh, c_quinn...you owe me so very, very much. I...am not sure whether to hate this with every fiber of my being or just kind of be amused by it but...there you go. Always the writer's dilemma, that.
“Are you okay, Sam?”
Steve is looking at him, serious, concerned, hands gentle on his shoulders, and he chokes on a laugh.
“I…um…yeah, pretty…pretty okay…”
“What do you think, sweetie? Do you think Sam looks okay?”
And Steve smiles, looks behind Sam.
“I think he looks great,” he hears Tony say, as fingers tighten comfortingly on his waist, “Maybe a little nervous,” and he turns his head, to see the other demon smile at him, slightly teasing. “But great, as always.”
A blushed protest, desperate modesty, and Tony grins at him, draws closer, hands wrapping up his torso.
“There’s nothing wrong with being nervous, Sam,” Steve says, and he turns back, sees kind eyes crinkled by a real smile. “Not,” the demon winks, “That you are.”
“No, I’m…I’m not…just-”
Weak protest swallowed by a light kiss, or two, really, he realizes; soft mouth against his, soothing lips grazing the back of his neck, and he’s torn.
Falls against Tony’s chest, fingers grappling at the dark silk of Steve’s shirt, pulling him closer, and he feels them both laugh, fond, pleased sounds that ripple through him and meet in the middle.
Hands sliding down his chest, sweeping across his waist, settling on his hips again, and he gasps, unfamiliar pressure at the small of his back and pressing into his stomach.
Shudders, trembles at strong fingers easing open his jeans, warm hands framing his face, and light tongue coaxing his lips apart.
“Hey, Sam,” he hears Tony smile, behind him, and Steve pulls away, with a faint, wet sound.
“Wh…what?” he glances back, tries to stop himself from shaking, from clinging quite so desperately to Steve.
“I gotta say, you’ve got the best eyes.”
“What?” he whines, even as Tony ignores him and looks to Steve.
“Doesn’t he just have the best eyes?
“Gorgeous,” he turns, doubtful, to see Steve grin, lean up to press a kiss to his forehead, and Sam gasps a little at new friction. “Like-“
“The sea after a storm,” Tony says against his neck, another quick kiss as Steve rolls his eyes. “You know that movie? I-”
“He loves that movie,” Steve mock-whispers into his other ear. “Cries at the end every single time he makes me watch it.”
“I heard that.” Comes another brush of warm air against his skin. “That’s not true, Sam.”
“It’s totally true, Sam,” a slight hint of tongue at his cheek and he shivers again, as a warm palm, he’s not sure who’s, and really, it hardly seems to matter, slips under his shirt. “Like a little, sinusy, baby. It’s adorable, but kinda pathetic.”
And he chuckles, relaxes, feels Tony nuzzle against his neck and sees him aim an affectionate punch to Steve’s arm.
“It’s, uh,” he starts. “It’s okay, it’s Sock’s favorite…”
“See?” Tony crows behind him, “I told you. It’s a cool movie, right Sam?”
“ Right.” he gulps, as another hand slides up against his skin and Steve’s leg pushes his apart.
“Okay, Sam?” Steve, again, nimble fingers moving from his waist and pushing up, under his t-shirt, up his back. “Okay?”
Eyes shut to the feelings, too many to catalog, warmth and alternating rhythms of shifting hips against his own, of panted breaths and rushing heartbeats.
“You can,” and Steve sounds breathless, through his gentle tone, “You can say no whenever you want, Sam.”
“We’re here for you, Sam, not for us,” Tony pants against his neck, rocking quick, unsteady.
“I’m not…” he whines, hears it deepen to a moan, “Not going to say no…”
And then it’s almost too quick to register, a tangling of too many legs and arms and very human clumsiness, as they stagger to the bedroom, Steve and Tony struggling with his t-shirt, taking turns kissing at newly exposed skin.
At some point Steve loses his vest, Tony’s dark sweater is thrown inelegantly into a pile on the floor, and Sam is pushed back, chest bare and jeans straining, onto soft sheets.
And Steve laughs, rueful, as he follows, kneels primly beside him, and glances at Tony, who’s settled on the other side.
“What?” Sam blushes, embarrassed, moves to draw his hands up, as the two look at each other, significant, amused. “What?”
“Easy there, Sam,” Tony grins at him, pushing him down when he tries to sit up, ruffling fond fingers through his hair. “We were just-“
“Just look at all this,” Steve chuckles, tracing lightly at his chest, smooth fingers grazing lines and contours, making his skin burn and stomach twist. “Absolutely perfect and, let me guess, all on, like, Doritos and…and Xbox, right? ”
Sam can only blink, confused, as Steve’s smile widens and he shakes his head, lips pouted to a, “Youth,” before he leans down.
Sends Sam gasping again, at a tongue flicking lightly down his chest, lapping quickly cooling tracks across his stomach.
Then Sam can’t breath, can’t think, with Tony’s lips against his, tongue teasing tender and lewd, twists and swirls as the demon cards through his hair, fingers light and precise.
Hazy warmth, a moment of near-unconsciousness, lost to all the attention, to the sturdy hand curled under his neck, the delicate fingers stroking his stomach, the lazy friction of a palm against his zipper, soft mouth sucking at his hip bone, lips hot and steady against his, slow, lingering kisses.
Almost painful intensity turns searing, as he’s taken in, enveloped in wet warmth, slick lips against dripping flesh, sliding, sucking, swallowing even as his hips jerk up and fingers scramble for purchase, land in mussed dark hair and twist in cool white shirt.
And he comes with a gasp, wordless, sound coaxed by an eager tongue and swallowed by a deep kiss, as his head falls back and his eyes shut.
Clings desperate to Tony’s arm, tries to steady himself, as Steve pulls away, one last crude slide of lips, and settles beside him.
Nuzzles coy against his neck, dances slim fingers across his chest as Sam tries to breathe again.
“Good, Sam?” he can hear the grin, even if he can’t see it, before Tony pulls away, and he can turn his head.
And he does, tries to smile, pants out a vague, unnecessary, he figures, “Yeah…”,
Sets both…both demons laughing again, affectionate, comforting, before they reach toward each other, lips meeting in tender familiarity that goes beyond this moment, beyond these forms, beyond the reality he knows.
But he knows, somehow, to shut his eyes.
A flash of darkness and he hears, soft sounds, light laughter, and he’s tempted.
The bodies against him turned tense, suddenly smooth, wrap around him, and each other, shift to new heat, distinct friction, and he wants.
He’s lost in it, heat sudden, scalding, without and within, between shifting forms that call for him and each other, voices raw and unfamiliar, even as careful hands find his hips and desperate fingers pull his arms around a waist.
A kiss dropped to his shoulder and stillness behind, brief whispers of tearing silk, bruising pressure on his hips that quickly fades.
A tremulous cry, suddenly human when none of the rest have been, and a quick swoosh of air brushes across his flushed cheeks.
Another quick jerk of his hips and his head falls, back against a warm shoulder, feels lips ghost along his neck, and his eyes flutter open.
Then shut again, fast, as he tries to swallow the gasp, pass it off as a sigh.
And the chest under his palms is clad in soft fabric again, damp but real, and the fingers brushing across his stomach are lightly calloused, and he can breathe.
“Sam,” soft whisper in his ear, and he turns to the sound. “You can open your eyes, now.”
And he does, to see Tony press a quick kiss to his forehead, and Steve quirk an eyebrow, smile gentle as he drops an arm over his shoulder.
“Hey, guys…” he mumbles, exhausted.
“Hey, Sam,” they chorus, grin at each other, as his eyes threaten to drop shut again. “Sleep, Sam.”
And he does, even before he registers the command, drifts into dreams of white feathers singed grey.
.
“Are you okay, Sam?”
Steve is looking at him, serious, concerned, hands gentle on his shoulders, and he chokes on a laugh.
“I…um…yeah, pretty…pretty okay…”
“What do you think, sweetie? Do you think Sam looks okay?”
And Steve smiles, looks behind Sam.
“I think he looks great,” he hears Tony say, as fingers tighten comfortingly on his waist, “Maybe a little nervous,” and he turns his head, to see the other demon smile at him, slightly teasing. “But great, as always.”
A blushed protest, desperate modesty, and Tony grins at him, draws closer, hands wrapping up his torso.
“There’s nothing wrong with being nervous, Sam,” Steve says, and he turns back, sees kind eyes crinkled by a real smile. “Not,” the demon winks, “That you are.”
“No, I’m…I’m not…just-”
Weak protest swallowed by a light kiss, or two, really, he realizes; soft mouth against his, soothing lips grazing the back of his neck, and he’s torn.
Falls against Tony’s chest, fingers grappling at the dark silk of Steve’s shirt, pulling him closer, and he feels them both laugh, fond, pleased sounds that ripple through him and meet in the middle.
Hands sliding down his chest, sweeping across his waist, settling on his hips again, and he gasps, unfamiliar pressure at the small of his back and pressing into his stomach.
Shudders, trembles at strong fingers easing open his jeans, warm hands framing his face, and light tongue coaxing his lips apart.
“Hey, Sam,” he hears Tony smile, behind him, and Steve pulls away, with a faint, wet sound.
“Wh…what?” he glances back, tries to stop himself from shaking, from clinging quite so desperately to Steve.
“I gotta say, you’ve got the best eyes.”
“What?” he whines, even as Tony ignores him and looks to Steve.
“Doesn’t he just have the best eyes?
“Gorgeous,” he turns, doubtful, to see Steve grin, lean up to press a kiss to his forehead, and Sam gasps a little at new friction. “Like-“
“The sea after a storm,” Tony says against his neck, another quick kiss as Steve rolls his eyes. “You know that movie? I-”
“He loves that movie,” Steve mock-whispers into his other ear. “Cries at the end every single time he makes me watch it.”
“I heard that.” Comes another brush of warm air against his skin. “That’s not true, Sam.”
“It’s totally true, Sam,” a slight hint of tongue at his cheek and he shivers again, as a warm palm, he’s not sure who’s, and really, it hardly seems to matter, slips under his shirt. “Like a little, sinusy, baby. It’s adorable, but kinda pathetic.”
And he chuckles, relaxes, feels Tony nuzzle against his neck and sees him aim an affectionate punch to Steve’s arm.
“It’s, uh,” he starts. “It’s okay, it’s Sock’s favorite…”
“See?” Tony crows behind him, “I told you. It’s a cool movie, right Sam?”
“ Right.” he gulps, as another hand slides up against his skin and Steve’s leg pushes his apart.
“Okay, Sam?” Steve, again, nimble fingers moving from his waist and pushing up, under his t-shirt, up his back. “Okay?”
Eyes shut to the feelings, too many to catalog, warmth and alternating rhythms of shifting hips against his own, of panted breaths and rushing heartbeats.
“You can,” and Steve sounds breathless, through his gentle tone, “You can say no whenever you want, Sam.”
“We’re here for you, Sam, not for us,” Tony pants against his neck, rocking quick, unsteady.
“I’m not…” he whines, hears it deepen to a moan, “Not going to say no…”
And then it’s almost too quick to register, a tangling of too many legs and arms and very human clumsiness, as they stagger to the bedroom, Steve and Tony struggling with his t-shirt, taking turns kissing at newly exposed skin.
At some point Steve loses his vest, Tony’s dark sweater is thrown inelegantly into a pile on the floor, and Sam is pushed back, chest bare and jeans straining, onto soft sheets.
And Steve laughs, rueful, as he follows, kneels primly beside him, and glances at Tony, who’s settled on the other side.
“What?” Sam blushes, embarrassed, moves to draw his hands up, as the two look at each other, significant, amused. “What?”
“Easy there, Sam,” Tony grins at him, pushing him down when he tries to sit up, ruffling fond fingers through his hair. “We were just-“
“Just look at all this,” Steve chuckles, tracing lightly at his chest, smooth fingers grazing lines and contours, making his skin burn and stomach twist. “Absolutely perfect and, let me guess, all on, like, Doritos and…and Xbox, right? ”
Sam can only blink, confused, as Steve’s smile widens and he shakes his head, lips pouted to a, “Youth,” before he leans down.
Sends Sam gasping again, at a tongue flicking lightly down his chest, lapping quickly cooling tracks across his stomach.
Then Sam can’t breath, can’t think, with Tony’s lips against his, tongue teasing tender and lewd, twists and swirls as the demon cards through his hair, fingers light and precise.
Hazy warmth, a moment of near-unconsciousness, lost to all the attention, to the sturdy hand curled under his neck, the delicate fingers stroking his stomach, the lazy friction of a palm against his zipper, soft mouth sucking at his hip bone, lips hot and steady against his, slow, lingering kisses.
Almost painful intensity turns searing, as he’s taken in, enveloped in wet warmth, slick lips against dripping flesh, sliding, sucking, swallowing even as his hips jerk up and fingers scramble for purchase, land in mussed dark hair and twist in cool white shirt.
And he comes with a gasp, wordless, sound coaxed by an eager tongue and swallowed by a deep kiss, as his head falls back and his eyes shut.
Clings desperate to Tony’s arm, tries to steady himself, as Steve pulls away, one last crude slide of lips, and settles beside him.
Nuzzles coy against his neck, dances slim fingers across his chest as Sam tries to breathe again.
“Good, Sam?” he can hear the grin, even if he can’t see it, before Tony pulls away, and he can turn his head.
And he does, tries to smile, pants out a vague, unnecessary, he figures, “Yeah…”,
Sets both…both demons laughing again, affectionate, comforting, before they reach toward each other, lips meeting in tender familiarity that goes beyond this moment, beyond these forms, beyond the reality he knows.
But he knows, somehow, to shut his eyes.
A flash of darkness and he hears, soft sounds, light laughter, and he’s tempted.
The bodies against him turned tense, suddenly smooth, wrap around him, and each other, shift to new heat, distinct friction, and he wants.
He’s lost in it, heat sudden, scalding, without and within, between shifting forms that call for him and each other, voices raw and unfamiliar, even as careful hands find his hips and desperate fingers pull his arms around a waist.
A kiss dropped to his shoulder and stillness behind, brief whispers of tearing silk, bruising pressure on his hips that quickly fades.
A tremulous cry, suddenly human when none of the rest have been, and a quick swoosh of air brushes across his flushed cheeks.
Another quick jerk of his hips and his head falls, back against a warm shoulder, feels lips ghost along his neck, and his eyes flutter open.
Then shut again, fast, as he tries to swallow the gasp, pass it off as a sigh.
And the chest under his palms is clad in soft fabric again, damp but real, and the fingers brushing across his stomach are lightly calloused, and he can breathe.
“Sam,” soft whisper in his ear, and he turns to the sound. “You can open your eyes, now.”
And he does, to see Tony press a quick kiss to his forehead, and Steve quirk an eyebrow, smile gentle as he drops an arm over his shoulder.
“Hey, guys…” he mumbles, exhausted.
“Hey, Sam,” they chorus, grin at each other, as his eyes threaten to drop shut again. “Sleep, Sam.”
And he does, even before he registers the command, drifts into dreams of white feathers singed grey.
.