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Title: Soapsuds
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Thor
Rating: NC-17
Words: 1107
Notes: Threesome. For [ profile] avengers_tables, prompt "washing", Multiamory March, Threesome Thursday, and a prompt at [ profile] comment_fic.
Summary: Nothing but soap and shampoo and the shower's spray between their bodies.

It’s a lot to take in. Four showerheads and granite walls, the height of luxury, but the tiled floor is as slick as any other shower, no matter how fancy it may or may not be. That makes it more challenging to get good footing, to get away in a hurry, and the water coming from so many directions is disorientating. There are scents, too, a distracting mixture of mango body wash and vanilla shampoo and water running over bodies. But the suds on Bucky’s skin make him slippery, and that would make it harder for an enemy to keep a hold on him.

Bucky closes his eyes, breathes out carefully. Slowly and purposefully pushes himself away from that headspace, and concentrates on being in the moment.

Because the moment is a-whole-nother version of ‘a lot to take in’. There’s the curve of Steve’s throat, his head thrown back, his lips parted. Bucky watches a droplet of water roll along Steve’s lower lip before his tongue darts out to lick it away. And then there’s Thor’s hand loosely gripping the back of Steve’s neck; Bucky’s gaze follows the impressively muscled lines of his arm to the expanse of Thor’s shoulders, water cascading over honeyed skin.

Yeah, there’s a lot to take in.

Bucky steps into Steve’s space, chases trails of water across his jaw. Thor presses himself against Bucky’s back, reaching around him so he can keep his grip on Steve, and Bucky should hate being boxed in, but he doesn’t. Shit, he should hate being anywhere near Thor just on principle, because the man’s huge and impossibly strong and, even with all the calculations the Winter Soldier’s done in his mind, Bucky’s still not sure what it would take to actually put Thor down in a fight.

Thor’s a seemingly immortal alien, and that kind of threat should make Bucky stay far away. But he can hear the soft sound Thor makes when he slides against Bucky’s skin, can feel the stretch of his warm smile when he buries his face against the side of Bucky’s neck, and the worry fades, as quiet as Bucky can ever make it.

He’s no more scared of Thor than he is of Steve.

Bucky hears the snap of a bottle cap, glances down to see Steve holding the shampoo. “Wash my hair for me?” he asks Steve with a smirk, remembering being back in Brooklyn before the war, sharing water and soap, hands exploring each other. Steve’d had to reach up over his own head to wash Bucky’s hair back then, but caught between Steve and Thor it’s Bucky who feels like the smaller one these days.

Steve’s smile is soft and distant, like he’s back in the same memory Bucky’s enjoying. “Yeah, we’ll get you real clean, Buck,” he says, mischief in his eyes. Getting a nice handful of shampoo, and Bucky settles his hands on Steve’s hips and tilts his head forward.

The fingers that move through his hair are firm but slow, massaging his scalp in small circles, and Bucky’s throaty groan bounces off the walls. He’s distantly aware of Thor messing with the toiletries, but that seems ridiculously unimportant when Steve’s rubbing at that spot behind Bucky’s ear that makes him want to melt. When Thor’s arms wrap around him from behind and start soothing over Bucky’s chest, he realises there are bubbles on Thor’s hands, the scent of mango body wash getting stronger. He grins, grinding his ass back playfully against Thor’s cock where it’s thick and hard, the head nudging low at the small of Bucky’s back.

He should hate being boxed in, but how could he ever hate this?

Steve’s fingers work shampoo into his hair, and Thor’s palms glide over Bucky’s chest. They pet at him, the nail of one thumb catching against Bucky’s nipple, and he inhales sharply, arching up into the touch. Thor’s hands work lower, lower, working sweet-smelling suds into the trail of dark hair that leads down beneath Bucky’s navel, and Bucky groans when Thor’s wide hand grips loosely at the base of his cock.

Steve’s hand is at Bucky’s jaw, tilting his head back against Thor’s shoulder. Bucky keeps his eyes tightly shut, not wanting the sting of shampoo in his eyes to ruin the moment, and the position he’s in is vulnerable as hell, blind and sandwiched between them, and, fuck, he kind of loves it. Really loves it, especially when Steve’s hips roll forward, his cock even hotter than the water as it drags along Bucky’s hip.

“Still want us to get you clean?” Steve teases, and Bucky will never get tired of Captain America being such a little shit, but all he can do is groan in response, rocking forward into Thor’s fingers.

He squirms a little when Thor responds by making his hold even more lax, reaching down further to soap up Bucky’s sac. He can feel the light tug across his pubic hair as Thor works the body wash through it, and Bucky can’t see with his eyes still shut, but he has a sneaking suspicion Steve and Thor are doing some serious wordless communicating over his shoulder. And the suspicion is confirmed when Steve’s hand gropes at Bucky’s ass, fingers slipping down the trail of Bucky’s cleft.

Bucky knows the exact second Steve’s knuckles brush Thor’s cock by the way Thor’s grip on his balls gets a little tighter.

His legs are starting to shake, and he can feel the water beating against his upturned face like rain. Thor’s holding him upright with one arm around Bucky’s waist, easily supporting his weight, the other stroking his cock so damn slow it makes him whine. Steve’s thumb presses against the rim of Bucky’s hole, pulls down on it where he’s still a little loose from Thor fucking him earlier, and Bucky squirms between them. It’s hard to tell with the spray sluicing over his body if it’s water or Thor’s come that’s wet beneath Steve’s thumb, but Bucky gasps either way.

They’re gonna make him come like this, that much is clear: the question is how long they’re going to draw it out for, how long they’re going to make him tremble and moan for them. A part of Bucky wants them to damn well hurry it up, and another part of him wants them to keep going until he’s begging them, pleading to be allowed release.

“We have you,” Thor murmurs, his voice a low rumble that Bucky can feel against his back.

And, God, they do, they have him so completely, and Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.


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