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Title: Slacks And Buckles
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Peggy/Bucky/Steve
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1441
Notes: Threesome. Crossdressing. BDSM. Pegging. Dirty talk. Exhibitionism. Voyeurism. Spanking. For [ profile] avengers_tables, prompt "coats", Multiamory March, Threesome Thursday, and a prompt at [ profile] avengerkink.
Summary: They're in each other's clothes, and Steve's in awe.

“Wha-?” is about as articulate as Steve can manage to be.

Peggy smirks at him, the curve of her red lips mesmerising. She reaches up, pressing a finger to the underside of his jaw and closing his mouth with a click. “You don’t approve?” she asks, her tone gently teasing. “I think we look rather dashing.”

Dashing is one way to put it. Peggy’s wearing Bucky’s peacoat, the heavy blue fabric too big on her frame, the front gaping open. She got a pair of men’s slacks on underneath, also Bucky’s because Steve recognises the patch of frayed stitching at the waist. She’s wearing a white undershirt, and Steve’s gaze trails over the way the lines of her dark suspenders curve around her breasts.

He swallows thickly when he realises he can see the outlines of her peaked nipples pushing against the fabric.

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky joins in, a leer in his voice as he sidles up to Peggy. “Aren’t you gonna tell us how nice we look?”

Steve loves and hates it in equal measure when they gang up on him like this.

Bucky’s wearing Peggy’s coat, the red one with the shiny metal buckle on the belt. It’s buttoned as high as it will go, and is clearly too small for him - Steve doubts Bucky could lift his arms all that high, but that’s beside the point. Because Bucky’s wearing stockings, the sheer fabric clinging to his legs. His shaved legs, and Steve’s mouth feels increasingly dry.

“Maybe we should change into something else,” Peggy offers, her voice lilting.

“No,” Steve answers far too quickly. “No, you, uh, you don’t need to do that.”

They both smile at him, the expressions on their faces both their own version of filthy, and Steve’s uniform is starting to feel as tight as that coat looks on Bucky, the fabric thick and confining. He’s already half-hard just looking at them as Peggy turns slightly, pressing herself against Bucky’s side.

“Sadly, Barnes couldn’t fit into any of my dresses,” she tells him, eyes dancing and her fingers playing with the buckle on the red coat. “But I found something else of mine that fits him quite nicely.”

Steve’s heart is racing, his palms sweating.

“Wanna see, Steve?” Bucky asks, and Peggy’s fingers slide the belt from the buckle, deliberately slow. Too slow, and Steve’s lurching forward before he can catch himself, yanking at the belt himself as Bucky grins.

The deep and appreciative noise Peggy makes as she watches has Steve’s cock growing even harder beneath his clothes.

He works the buttons free, pulling at them fast enough it’s a wonder they don’t go flying across the room - it’s only knowing Peggy’ll be upset to see her coat ruined that keeps his strength in check. And then the coat is falling open and so is Steve’s mouth.

Bucky’s wearing a teddy, one of Peggy’s, black and silky. The straps have been loosened as much as they can be to accommodate Bucky’s height and he can’t fill the chest out like Peggy can, so it’s loose across the neckline, shifting against Bucky’s skin with every breath. It’s more snug across the waist and crotch, and Steve hears himself groan because he can see the hard outline of Bucky’s erection as clearly as he can see Peggy’s nipples through her undershirt, and he’s never leaving the two of them together again if this is what they get up to.

By which he means he’s always going to leave the two of them together at every opportunity, as long as he gets to come back and enjoy the results.

“Take a seat, Captain,” Peggy says firmly, and Steve’s never been able to disobey that voice. His legs take him to the chair she indicates, and he sits like a puppet with cut strings, knees all but giving out. Peggy then inclines her head towards Bucky. “On the bed, Barnes.”

Bucky gives a quick salute. “Sir, yes, sir,” he smirks, and they both watch him make a great show of crawling onto the mattress on all fours. It pulls the shiny fabric of the teddy tighter across his ass, and Steve doesn’t miss the way Bucky’s breath catches as the material drags between his legs.

“Here’s tonight’s itinerary,” Peggy informs them, her voice smooth and professional, moving to place a hand between Bucky’s shoulders. “Barnes here is going to be a good boy and let me fuck him.” It’s Bucky who moans this time, and Peggy pushes her palm down until Bucky’s arms fold, his face pressing down against the sheets and his ass in the air. “And you, Steve, are going to sit there and watch.”

As if Steve could ever look away. As if he could even blink right now.

She slides her hand down Bucky’s back, and he arches up into like a cat. Peggy smiles at him affectionately, before roughly tugging the fabric over Bucky’s ass up at the side, revealing the flesh of one cheek. Her hand falls heavily against the skin, and Bucky gasps, his body rocking back against the blow.

Steve watches the white shape of Peggy’s palm on Bucky’s ass begin to flood with colour, and then she lets the material fall back into place.

Peggy walks back towards him, her hips swaying and making the suspenders pull against her chest. Steve inhales as she steps into his personal space, and he realises she’s wearing Bucky’s cologne. He wants to put his mouth against her skin, trying to find her natural scent beneath the smell he associates with Bucky, wanting to get lost in the way their scents mix together.

She places a wooden box on Steve’s lap, and he already knows what it contains. He opens it to reveal the familiar shaft of Peggy’s favourite toy, thick and long and dark, the largest she owns. “Do you think he’ll take it well for me, Steve?” she purrs, her fingers stroking Steve’s hair.

He can hear Bucky fidgeting on the bed, trying to see which toy Peggy’s chosen, but Steve can’t look away from the heat in her eyes. “I think he’d better, ma’am,” he answers, before correcting himself. “Sir.”

Peggy’s fingers trail over his face, pinching his chin and turning his jaw so she can tilt his head back. If he could touch her, he’d bury his face against her chest, pull at the undershirt with his teeth until the neckline was stretched and gaping, her breasts bared for his lips.

But he’s not allowed to touch her right now. The rules of the game are clear - he’s supposed to watch.

Peggy drops her hands to her waist, undoing the fly of her slacks. She keeps the suspenders on, and he realises she means to stay as fully dressed as possible. As much as Steve loves to see her naked, the idea of her keeping Bucky’s clothes on while she fucks him makes Steve’s cock throb, his pulse thudding against his ribs.

Beneath the slacks, Peggy’s wearing her fancy harness, leather stretching out from the metal ring at the front. She’s wearing Bucky’s underwear beneath it, and Steve digs his teeth into the inside of his cheek, desperately wanting to rub at her through the material, to bring her to climax as she makes Bucky’s boxers wetter and wetter.

“Will you do the honours?” she requests, and Steve lifts the shaft from it’s lined box, positioning the base of it at the harness’ ring. Peggy palms the back of his head as he settles it in place, tightening the hold until the shaft is secure.

“When you fuck him,” Steve murmurs, pitching his voice just low enough that Bucky won’t be to able to hear, “will you keep him dressed like that?”

Peggy smiles at him fondly, her thumb sliding over Steve’s lower lip. “Even if I have to rip the gusset out at the crotch, he’ll be keeping the teddy on,” she promises, and places a quick kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

She’s perfect; they’re perfect. Steve settles back in his chair, spreading his legs slightly to ease the pressure across his crotch. He notices Bucky’s eyes widen as Peggy turns and he catches sight of the shaft she’s chosen, his pupils growing bigger as Peggy walks back towards him. The mattress dips as she kneels behind Bucky, her hand grasping his hip, and Steve grips the arms of his chair tight enough that the wood creaks.

There’s only one thing left to do, the thing that he’s been told to do: watch, and Steve doesn’t plan to miss a single moment.
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