Archive of Our Own

***New York, 1929***

James Buchanan Barnes - only called such by his mother when she was in a lather about somethin’ - followed the sounds of a fistfight into one of the side alleys next to the theatre. Bucky heaved a heavy sigh. He knew whom he would inevitably find in the thick of the scuffle. His mama liked to call him a scrapper, as he’d gotten into more fistfights in his school than any other twelve year old that the Sisters of St. Mary’s Brooklyn Parish School had ever seen. However, this new kid that moved from South Brooklyn’s parish school, St. James, seemed hell bent on putting that record to shame. And, honestly, that thought didn’t sit quite right with Bucky.

Still, the kid had chops. He never started a fight just to fight. He only ever got into it with some of the bigger kids when they were messing with someone else. Then the punk never backed down. Even when he was grossly outsized and outnumbered, the stubborn blockhead refused to give in or give up. Which kind of made Bucky admire the guy’s guts - grudgingly.

So, coming upon the sight of the scrawny blond boy surrounded by a couple of older boys holding him down and wailing on him, Bucky did the only thing he could. He waded in fists first and started pummeling the cowards ganging up on the little guy.

Once the three idiots realised the numbers were a little more even and the newcomer to the fight was not on their side, they beat a pretty hasty retreat out of the alley, leaving the two boys alone together. One was sprawled on the ground, sucking the blood from a split lip and probing gentle fingers around the puffy, tender skin of his eye and cheek. The other was rubbing bruised and scraped knuckles and snorting up a trickle of blood where one of the boys got a lucky shot in on his nose. Luckily for him, he didn’t think it was broken.

Movement from where the kid was gingerly standing up, despite the beating he just received, had Bucky’s admiration for the new guy spiking even higher. Still, he couldn’t resist razzing the dope. After all, if he was gonna be friends with Bucky (and Bucky had already decided he would be), the kid would need to be able to handle a little - okay, a lot of - good natured ribbing.

“I gotta tell ya, punk, I seen you pick a fight with those bullies nearly every day for the past two weeks, but I still ain’t seen you win one, yet.” Bucky said lightly.

A puff of breath fell from the blond boy’s lips, and his eyes widened in surprise. If he didn’t know better, Bucky would think the kid had just been punched in the gut again, the way his trap was hanging open like a fish. However, he recovered quickly and shook his head, giving a smug little smirk that tilted his lips up slightly on one side. The abrupt change revealed a rakish, devil-may-care expression, despite the blackening eye.

“Well, I would be an even bigger jerk than you if I were to walk away from doin’ what’s right just because I didn’t think I could win.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to gasp and gape like a fish. It wasn’t something he could help. The response was immediate and instinctual. Those were his words. The ones looped in a spiral around the upper part of his right arm, making two bands of neatly printed script on his bicep. Well no wonder the punk had seemed so flabbergasted. From the knowing and excited grin spreading on the blond’s face, Bucky realised he must have said his words, too.

“Can… can I see?” Bucky asked soberly, needing to be sure. He was almost afraid to ask, for fear of being rejected. Soul marks were a very personal thing, and you didn’t just show them in public. However, he and this kid were soulmates - hopefully - so showing each other their marks wouldn’t be seen as a problem by society’s standards.

Sensing his serious mood, the blond’s face turned comforting and sure. Bucky was surprised that such a determined and steady expression would fit so well on such a skinny, frail kid. Then he was distracted as the other boy lifted his shirt and turned his back to reveal his mark. There, in the scrawling mess the nuns worked so hard to train him out of, were the first words he had spoken to this boy. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and tracing a finger across the three lines of writing marking the pale skin where the boy’s right kidney was. Feeling the little shiver his movement received made Bucky feel strangely giddy and happy inside.

He stepped back, grabbed the boy by his shoulder and spun him back around. Thinking fair’s fair, he yanked up the sleeve covering his right arm all the way to his shoulder. Then he said, “My name’s Bucky, and you’re my soulmate.”

“Steve.” Came the whispered and awed reply. Then Steve copied Bucky’s earlier movement and traced a finger over the brunet’s mark, receiving a similar shiver to the one he had given when being touched. His finger then trailed down the length of the boy’s arm as his eye caught more writing on the inside of his forearm; this one was a single line from elbow to wrist. The writing here was not his own. It was loopy and slanted, definitely feminine, and completely familiar. “You have a second mark.”

Bucky blushed as any twelve year old would at his decidedly lecherous second set of words, but he rushed to reassure Steve. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you now, so I don’t think I’m in too big of a hurry to find this girl.”

Steve blushed, too, but he was also grinning again. “I don’t think she’s gonna be the type of girl to wait.” Then he turned around and lifted his shirt again to reveal his left lower back - the side Bucky hadn’t seen before.

“Damn!” Bucky blushed a deeper scarlet as he read the words written in identical looping script as on his forearm. “And I thought my second set of words was forward.”

“She’s gonna be one hell of a dame, ain’t she, Buck?” Steve couldn’t help but grin wider as he lowered his shirt and turned around to face Bucky.

Bucky lowered his shirt sleeve and slung his arm companionably around Steve’s shoulders, careful of any bruises that might be tender from the previous fight. He led Steve out of the alley, and he whispered conspiratorially in his ear. “Yeah, Stevie. Our girl will be one hell of a dame.”

***West Virginia, 1999***

Darcy Lewis was no floozy. She may have only been nine years old, but she knew what a floozy was, and she wasn’t one. Mary Anne Gallagher was a floozy. She wore her pretty dresses to school every day, and made sure her white socks with the lacy trim were always pulled up perfectly to show off the delicate detail along the top. She brought exactly one extra cookie in her lunch, so she could dangle it in front of all the boys in class to see which one she would decide to give it to today - even though sharing snacks was NOT allowed unless you brought enough for the whole class. The boys fought every day to be the one who was extra nice to Mary Anne, hoping she would then give her extra double chocolate chip cookie to him. She never picked the same boy two days in a row; she knew nothing about loyalty and consistency. THAT was a floozy.

This bothered Darcy because, at nine, she finally thought she understood what one of her soul marks meant. One of her marks seemed innocent enough, though, perhaps slightly odd out of context - unless they met at an ice cream shop or something. The neat printing circling her upper left thigh didn’t bother her. It was the mirroring mark on the opposite thigh that made her so adamantly dislike Mary Anne and her flirty cookie antics. Her second mark, in a messy written scrawl, seemed to imply that she would one day kiss someone else’s boyfriend - her soulmate’s boyfriend. She couldn’t stand the idea of doing that to one of the people she was meant to love with all her heart.

From that day on, she became completely loyal in even the smallest of decisions. She decided her favourite colour was blue, and she didn’t like any other colour. Her favourite food became pizza, and she refused to admit she liked chicken nuggets just as much. Even her stuffed animals were subject to this dictate. She decided she could only sleep with one stuffed animal on her bed, because that was what being loyal and consistent meant. And so Earnie the Rabbit stayed, and the rest of her collection was sat on her window seat. She still played with them, of course, but she only ever slept with Earnie. She was not going to be like Mary Anne, who changed what she liked best every other day.

It was only in high school that she TRULY learned what her soul mark meant. And it was all thanks to her foray into the wonderful world of fanfiction that led her to the discovery of the OT3. Then she finally got it. She didn’t have to be afraid of being labeled a floozy, or a slut, or a homewrecker. (Her vocabulary had certainly improved since fourth grade!) She realized then that having two soul marks meant that her SOULMATE’S boyfriend would also be HER boyfriend.

After that, as funny as it sounded, Darcy couldn’t wait until the day she was caught kissing someone else’s boyfriend.

***New York, 2016***

Your forehead does not itch.

Your forehead does not itch.

Your forehead DOES NOT it-

OH, FUCKING HELL!!! MOTHER FUCKING SON OF A FUCKING FUCK!!!

Darcy flopped around on the bed as best she could, trying to get enough leverage to turn over in order to scratch her itchy as fuck forehead on the bed spread beneath her. She could just about cry with frustration. But she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to give THEM the pleasure of reducing her to tears - especially not over an itchy forehead. She had bigger problems anyway.

One of those ‘bigger problems’ pounded on the door to the bedroom. “Shut up in there if you don’t want us to drug you again!” A voice yelled through the door. She felt a quick thrill of satisfaction when she noticed the voice sounded congested, as though the speaker had cotton balls stuffed up his nose. However, the thrill was short-lived.

Darcy would like to tell that voice - and the person it belonged to - to go to hell. Unfortunately, the duct tape over her mouth turned all of her scathing insults about their lack of intelligence and personal hygiene into muffled, irritated hums. Silence was not a natural state for Darcy. Voicing her opinion - generally with a shocking amount of brashness and tactlessness - was her thing. After hours of being prevented from telling these assholes what she thought of them, she was about ready to burst with all the insults she had had time to think up.

However, what she wasn’t able to think up during this interminable time in her own personal, silent hell, was a way to get out of this mess. Thinking over what got her here did little to help her come up with an escape strategy. But it might just distract her from her itchy forehead.

She remembered leaving the tower to go for a caffeine run for the Scientists Three. Sure the tower had plenty of coffee machines - it was built by Tony fucking Stark, after all. His blood was equal parts booze and coffee. Still, she could use the exercise, and the Brain Trust deserved a treat. Which was why Darcy had been walking the well-travelled path to the Starbucks down the street when she felt a little prick on her arm.

After that, she had woken up with her arms handcuffed together and affixed to a metal frame headboard. She had felt so groggy and confused, so the panic at her situation hadn’t been that intense. Sadly, the cloudy haze in her mind had not lasted, and she had begun to experience a massive panic attack - the likes of which she had not had since just after the “Incident” in London, thank you very much therapy. Her wild thrashing and screaming had brought a rush of activity into the room. Three burly men had burst through the door. They quickly rushed to hold her down while a fourth man covered her mouth with one hand and injected a prepped syringe into her arm with the other. She felt her panic ebbing away as a dawning blackness took over.

***

When she awoke again, still handcuffed to the bed, she managed to keep quiet. She still had the stupid panic attack, of course. The walls pressed in on her, and the yellowed ceiling above her seemed to compress down, until she felt like she was in a coffin. There was a crushing weight on her chest, but she tried to take deep, steady breaths as quietly as possible. Thanks to the wonders of therapy, she had developed skills and strategies to help cope with her attacks, and she used them now. It also helped that the original attack had been delayed by the sedatives before it had been a full-blown thing, so the edge had been taken off of the abject terror that could come with an attack. Still, Darcy would rather die than admit that the goons had helped in any way.

After the worst of it had passed and her breathing returned to normal, she had begun to look around her to devise an escape plan. She was in a small room. The nondescript walls and ceiling had likely been white once, but were now yellowed with time and lack of cleaning. Ew. Darcy did not want to even think about the state of the bed she was lying on if the rest of the room was that bad. There was no window, so she couldn’t see where the building was - if she was in a rundown apartment still in the city, or if she’d been taken out and to a safehouse where there were less people around to hear her scream. Likely, it was some hidey-hole set up by her kidnappers.

Since she couldn’t figure out where she was, maybe she could find something to help her. Her chances were slim, though, since Darcy noticed the room was completely empty, save for her and her bed. She couldn’t even see her purse that she’d been carrying. Hopefully the fuckers outside had thought to bring it with them. She knew her purse held her phone, which was lowjacked with Stark technology, which meant Jarvis would be able to track her location in the event of a kidnapping - like now. Of course, that would only work if the goons had been moronic enough to take her stuff when they nabbed her. So, waiting for a rescue, which may or may not come, didn’t seem to be the best course of action.

Alright, new plan. Operation Self-Rescuing Damsel in Distress was a go. Darcy just had to think of a way to implement it. First, she would need to get out of the cuffs. So, she would need the keys, since there was nothing she could use to attempt to pick the lock (which was probably a waste of time trying, anyway, because she had never picked a lock before in her life). This meant she would need to get one of the minions from Thugs-R-Us to come into the room. If she started screaming and thrashing again, all four of them would come charging in like last time. That wouldn’t do. She needed to do this guerilla style: divide and conquer.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Darcy was actually capable of subtlety. She used it sparingly, but she was capable of it, when the occasion called for it. So, she started to slowly shift around on the bed, making the frame squeak with her steady movements. She let out a groan, loud enough that it would be heard through the door, but quiet enough to imply that she was just coming out of her induced slumber. She heard shuffling from outside, but it wasn’t the rushing she had heard from before. It was a steady set of footsteps coming closer.

Darcy didn’t want to blow her chance, so she lowered her eyelids until they were nearly completely closed. She moaned and twisted slowly, like she was unaware and still out of it. When the door opened she continued her act. She heard a huff of breath from the single goon that entered the room. As he approached her bed, he pulled a syringe out of his pocket. His movements were lazy, bored with his confidence in her helplessness. Perfect.

When Darcy saw he was close enough, she sprang into action. She flipped around on the mattress until she was sitting upright on the side of the bed, feet facing her attacker. (She would have to remember to thank a certain red-haired combat specialist for her rudimentary training in self-defence.) Using all the force she could, she brought one foot up into the groin of a very surprised kidnapper. When he doubled over to grasp at his balls, she pulled her foot back and kicked him squarely in the nose. She felt a sickening crunch under her foot, and the goon flew backwards, blood spurting from his likely broken nose.

While her surprise attack had been stealthy, her victim had not been so quiet. The breath had left his lungs in a whoosh when she sacked him, but he had let out an enraged roar when she broke his nose. The other three thugs from before came charging into the room again. They wrestled her down onto the bed, and though she fought as best she could, there were three of them, and she was still cuffed to the bed. She hoped Natasha wouldn’t hold that against her when she later told the Russian spy that she had failed in her escape.

Goon number one was still blubbering on the floor and cupping his bloody nose, but one of the other guys grabbed the fallen syringe from the floor and jabbed it into her arm. Darcy felt the blackness encroaching again. Well, turned out that Operation SRDiD was a total bust. She’d just have to wait for the professionals after all.

***

Finally, the third time Darcy woke staring at the ugly yellow ceiling, she was neither surprised nor panicked. She knew exactly where she was - relatively speaking - and exactly what situation she was in. Thor help her, she was getting accustomed to waking up cuffed to a bed. This time, though, she was mildly stunned to find that the goons had taped her mouth shut. (Except they had done a shitty job of it, considering there was a fold in the piece of duct tape that allowed her to worm her tongue along it and pry the adhesive away enough to create a small tunnel so she could kind of breathe through her mouth). They had also cuffed her ankles now, too. Each bracelet was snugged around one of her ankles, and the chain in the middle was looped through the metal-framed footboard.

This brought Darcy back to her current set of circumstances. She had been feeling pretty damn smug that the baddies thought her dangerous enough to warrant extra precautions and doubled her retraints. That is, until she got the worst itch on the front of her forehead. She tried to ignore it; that worked for a time, but she eventually got bored of coming up with insults about her kidnappers when she couldn’t annoy them with her witty, cutting remarks. She tried to blow air through the wrinkle in the duct tape in order to push her wayward bangs away from tickling the spot, but her soft breath just irritated her skin even more. At last she tried to trick herself into thinking it didn’t itch at all. Her mantra failed epically. Her thrashing was useless, too, apparently. Because of the way her hands and feet were bound to the bed, she couldn’t roll over to rub her face against the blanket.

She was getting real sick of this shit. Just as she was thinking that, she heard a loud commotion on the other side of the door. There was some yelling and some cursing from the goons. There were gunshots, too. Darcy was a little concerned, because she wasn’t positive that bad news for the kidnappers necessarily equalled good news for her. However the beautiful trademark sounds of the Iron Man suit’s repulsor blasts brought tears to her eyes. Fucking rights! The cavalry was here. Her forehead was saved! The rest of her was, too, of course, but: PRIORITIES.

Her celebration was cut short when Bloody Nose slammed open the door and rushed in. He had a gun in his hand and was swinging it towards her. Darcy didn’t even have time to close her eyes - and she was glad she didn’t, or she would have completely missed what happened next. Through the open doorway came a blur of shiny metal and red, white and blue.

The shield knocked into the goon’s arm, throwing the gun to the floor. Next came Captain America, himself. He gave one quick punch to the guy’s chin, which knocked the would-be murderer right out. The Captain’s head turned in her direction, and Darcy couldn’t decide if she was disappointed he wasn’t wearing the cowl so she didn’t get the full uniform effect, or grateful that her view of his Adonis face was completely unobstructed for her perusal.

The Captain shifted his gaze through the door, but whatever he saw there must have convinced him that his team had it handled. He quickly strode over to the head of the bed. With a simple twist of his large hands, he snapped the cuffs from each of her wrists. She didn’t even feel it. He went back to her feet to do the same, but Darcy couldn’t care less. Her hands were free! She immediately began scratching at her forehead. Her eyes closed in bliss at the relief, and she was pretty sure the duct tape was preventing her from letting out what would have been nearly pornographic moans of ecstasy.

Darcy eventually got to removing the duct tape on her mouth just as the Captain finished removing the cuffs around her ankles. She could finally speak again! And she started with the first thing that came to mind. “You know, bondage has never been my thing, but seeing you standing at the foot of my bed with a pair of handcuffs is doing a lot to make me reconsider my position on that.”

She ignored his speechless and stunned response. Honestly, she wasn’t really surprised. She knew she had no brain-to-mouth filter on the best of days. Being kidnapped and cuffed to a bed while those goons plotted their plots did not, in any of Thor’s nine realms, make the list of ‘best of days.’ Still, talking bondage kinks with Captain America was probably not the best first impression to make. She decided then that she was gonna blame it on the shock of the kidnapping. Thinking about it, if she played her cards right, she could milk this shit-tastic event for all it was worth.

As she shimmied off the mattress, she began to calculate how much she could reasonably apply to Tony - and by Tony, she totally meant Pepper - for in hazard pay. Maybe there was some sort of workman’s comp for kidnapping. She would ask Jarvis about that when she returned to the tower.

Tall, Blond and Patriotic still hadn’t moved or spoken since her initial comment, and she was starting to wonder if she had set off fireworks in his star-spangled brain. She moved towards him, completely casual, and spoke in an easy voice. “Really though, thanks for the save. I owe you one. Maybe I’ll bake you an apple pie or something.”

Then she leaned up and gave a very gentle kiss to his cheek. It was totally chaste, meant just as a sweet gesture of thank you. But, come on. It was Captain FUCKING America. She was not missing out on her one - and probably only - chance to kiss (completely innocently, she’s not some pervy perv) Steven Rogers of the legendary Howling Commandos and bluer than blue eyes.

She knew she needed to get a hold of herself before she got caught in the truly intoxicating scent of the Captain’s cologne, though - ‘cause that would totally be stepping into pervy territory. Darcy was beginning to see how Steven Rogers was broadening her sexual appetites in very interesting ways. New bondage kink: check. New old-man cologne kink: check.

A sound of shuffling near the bedroom door caught her attention just as she was pulling away from him. She turned to see the Winter Soldier leaning casually against the door frame. His arms were crossed comfortably over his chest, and he had one combat boot crossed over the other. He didn’t look particularly tense - his pose seemed entirely languid. His lips were twisted in a cheeky smirk. However, his own icy blue eyes were intensely focused on the pair in the room, and Darcy had the feeling he could spring into lethal action quicker than she could blink, despite his relaxed posture.

When he spoke, his voice was smooth, almost crooning in his Brooklyn accent. It was as deceptively mild as his stance. “As luscious as those lips are, Doll, mind tellin’ me what they’re doing on my boyfriend’s cheek?”

Darcy felt a jolt. Her breath caught in her chest and a zip of arousal shot straight through her belly and down. She knew what this was from talking about it with her friends who had found their soulmates. They described the first rush of adrenaline and pleasure at hearing your words spoken for the first time as nearly orgasmic, but she hadn’t believed them. She was taking it all back now. The feeling coursing through her was definitely similar to ones she had experienced during sexy times - though it had never felt quite like this with another person.

She realised then that her brown eyes had fastened just as intensely on the man’s gaze as his was on her and Steve. She had been waiting for this day her entire life, and though the shock would come much later that THESE men were meant to be hers, her quick mind was already responding with its usual brand of snark and sass. “It’s kinda hard to resist, especially when those dimples are so damn lickable.”

It was now Bucky’s turn to freeze; although, it wasn’t in surprise. He knew this feeling. When he was younger and Steve had spoken his words, Bucky had felt the zing trip through his system - even if his younger age meant that the arousal was slightly muted into giddy contentment. Still, he knew this feeling, this completeness.

He growled low in his throat, and though Darcy didn’t think it were possible, his entire presence became even more predatory. His eyes roamed up and down her form, tracing her lush curves as possessively with his eyes as he would later with his hands. His body lurched from the door and to attention. His arms uncrossed from over his chest, but his hands remained at his sides, though they clenched tightly with control. His muscled chest, already well defined - and daaamn, the boy was cut! - by his kevlar vest, seemed to expand as he attempted to breathe in Darcy’s scent from across the room.

He hadn’t moved any farther into the room, though. He didn’t want to scare the dame by rushing towards her. Especially after she’d just been through a kidnapping. And this thought, that someone would dare to take Steve’s and his soulmate away before they had even had the chance to find her, enraged Bucky. He let out a second growl, far more menacing than the first. He shot death glares over his shoulder at the SHIELD minions currently rounding up the captured thugs for questioning. His flesh hand went to the hilt of one of his many knives, while his metal arm flashed out to clench at the wooden frame of the doorway, splintering the material underneath his crushing grip. The goons that were previously defiantly resisting being herded out of the apartment now bolted and scrambled to get away from the Soldier’s rage and safely into custody.

This exchange went completely unnoticed by Darcy though. She was just getting over the initial burst of feeling from Bucky’s words when Steve apparently recovered from his own explosion of soul mark recognition. He leaned his massive body closer towards Darcy, unconsciously seeking to be in her space. His soft pink lips turned up in a filthy smirk, and his voice lowered an octave in a slow, smooth delivery that would have shocked Tony to hear the sexual intent dripping from his words. “Feel free to lick away.”

Darcy gasped, her breath forcefully rushing out of her chest. She was barely recovered from the first onslaught, and now, having her second soul mark uttered so soon after the first doubled up on the crest of arousal shuddering through her system. Her knees buckled under her, and she sat down quickly on the edge of the bed so she wouldn’t fall. A flush rose to her skin, flaring heat throughout her body. She felt a rush of moisture between her legs and clenched her thighs together to get some friction down there.

Suddenly, she became hyper aware of her senses. The spicy scent of Steve’s cologne caused her nostrils to flare, and a faint whiff from Bucky’s direction told her they shared the same smell. Her eyes picked up the flush that was spreading lightly along the Captain’s cheeks, and she traced the path of a bead of perspiration as it trailed down the side of his neck to the skin tight collar of his suit. The sound of an angry growl and rending wood almost caught her attention, but her own panting breaths were too loud and took precedence over other noises. She slipped the tip of her tongue out to trace her upper lip, tasting her own salty sweat gathered there.

Her reaction did not go unnoticed by the super soldiers. Their own senses were normally - or abnormally - enhanced due to the serum, and right now, every one of them was focused on Darcy’s reaction to their words. They took in her squirming thighs, could smell her sweet arousal punch the air, and hear her breaths come faster through her parted mouth. When they saw the tip of her tongue peak through her sex red lips, it was their undoing.

Steve was right next to her, so he didn’t have far to move. He simply lowered to one knee and pressed his chest along the outside of her right thigh. His one hand crossed over her body to hold her left hip, while his other hand rose to cup the back of her neck. He tangled his fingers through her long, chestnut tresses, thinking her hair was soft as silk.

Bucky leapt over to her side, finally fully entering the room, the fuckers behind him already forgotten. He mirrored Steve’s pose on her left side. He lowered to one knee and pressed his chest firmly into the outside of her thigh, needing as much contact as he could get. His left arm wrapped around her waist, resting just above Steve’s, and banding flat on her stomach. His large metal hand grasped gently around her right hip bone. His flesh hand caressed a light path up the side of her neck, the fingers coming to a rest just below her ear as his thumb slid along her cheek.

Both men were now directly eye level with her. Their closeness as a unit finally seemed to cement the bond between the three of them, and they were happy to bask in just being with each other, at last finding one another.

The intensity of her reaction finally wore off, the edge of tightness removed by having both men so close to and touching her. She gave a relieved little laugh and looked into the two faces staring happily at her. “So, I know I’ve seen you both around the tower, but we’ve never actually, officially met. Which is odd, because I know everyone. And everyone knows me. Except you two. ‘Cause: duh? If we had already met, I would know you guys were my soulmates, and then this time spent sitting on the bed would not be spent in awkward introductions. Unless we are talking about introductions of the biblical sense, if ya catch my drift.” Here, her eyebrows waggled outrageously, and she let out a comical growl of fake seduction.

Steve and Bucky both chuckled deeply, and she felt the vibrations of their chests send shivers along her thighs and to her core - which: wow! Talk about good vibrations! The loud, surprised barks of laughter from both men told Darcy she had probably said that last bit out loud. Meh, they would have to get used to her blurting out whatever popped into her head. Especially if they were gonna be distracting her with their godly bodies, and delicious scents, and biteable dimples and lips and ass cheeks. Which, yes, please!

“Anyway,” she said, as she raised both hands and laid one each on top of their hands on her hips. “My name is Darcy. So, we’ve been introduced - officially now - and you two are my soulmates! My guys! My fellas!”

“Hehe, we always knew you’d be a spitfire with the mouth you’ve got on you, Doll.” Bucky started, his smile was quick and the charm pumped out of him like the light from a megawatt light bulb, and was just as bright. Darcy could easily see the lady’s man and skirt chaser history reported him to be in the ‘30’s and ‘40’s. “Officially, I’m Bucky. Nice to finally have you. The punk and I have been looking for you since 1929. Do me a favour, though. You’ve already planted one on this goof, ya mind making it even before you take him and his dimples up on his offer?”

Darcy let out a wild laugh. Getting along with Bucky was gonna be easy, and fun. She then leaned towards him and playfully pressed a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. She couldn’t help but grin into the scruff she felt there, and she rubbed her nose against the light scrape of it before she pulled away.

Bucky might have let out a grimace at the childish kiss, if not for a few facts. One, Darcy was kissing him. Her lips were on his skin. And for that reason alone, Bucky would never find discomfort in any action that led to such results. Second fact: the kiss was so innocent and friendly. It meant more than primal sexual want - though he was feeling a lot of that for sure. The kiss was a sweet gesture of affection, which was something the Soldier had precious little experience with over the past 80 years and was just getting used to again with Steve. And third, the little nuzzle she pressed into his cheek went a long way to soothing a lot of the frayed nerves he had received from almost losing her before they’d actually found her.

“S’it my turn yet?” Steve asked jokingly. He wasn’t really in too big of a hurry to break up his two soulmates, though. He knew just how much Bucky needed simple acts of physical touch to help soothe the ragged edges he’d developed during his time as Hydra’s tool. He was happy to see Bucky indulging in his softer and more playful personality with someone other than himself. All too often, Bucky was still too alert, still too much the Soldier, around the other Avengers to loosen up.

Bucky let out a playful grumble and nudged the hand on Darcy’s hip into Steve’s side. He managed to land a mild blow, all without losing his hold or altering his grip on Darcy’s waist. Steve pretended to wince and made an exaggerated oofing sound in response. Darcy laughed at their playful antics as she turned her attention to Steve. “Is there something you wanted, Baby?”

Steve quirked a perfect, blond eyebrow at the suggestive question. There was a hell of a lot that he wanted. But none of it was anything he would do while still in the room where she had been held during her kidnapping. “An official introduction will do for now, Sweetheart. I’m Steve. We should probably get out of here, though. You still need to get checked out by medical, and the others will no doubt wonder what’s taking so long if we continue to stay here.”

“Too late for that, Capsicle.” Came a cheerfully arrogant voice from the doorway. It was a voice that caused both Steve and Bucky to clench their teeth and Darcy to roll her eyes. Tony was standing in the entryway, face plate up, patented smirk in place. “We were beginning to worry you and Mother Russia there got lost in the bedroom. Thought perhaps you had wandered into a closet and found Narnia.”

“Not Narnia, just their soulmate.” Darcy replied airily while Stark laughed at his own joke. That is, until Darcy’s snark caused him to choke on a laugh as he spluttered in confusion. Darcy took great pleasure in verbally sparring with Tony. And the fact that she not only held her own, but often scored points on the self-proclaimed king of sarcasm, made the man enjoy sparring with her just as much. Theirs was an odd friendship based on witty insults, rapid banter, and a mutual caffeine addiction.

“WHAT?! What’s this?! I don’t… I can’t - Does not compute.” Tony, true to form, was unable to stop talking, even though he didn’t have anything to actually say.

“Well this is an interesting development.” Natasha peered around a babbling Tony. Her tone of voice was mild, and there was a knowing glint in her eyes. Despite her words, she seemed completely unsurprised by the new soulmates.

Then again, Darcy thought, she was an infamous former KGB spy-ssassin. It was impossible to tell what she knew at any given time. Darcy didn’t dwell on it too long, because Clint was right next to her. His face, however, was anything but stoic. She could see every lewd thought pass over his expression. That’s why she kind of loved Clint - like a bro. He was unapologetically crass and crude. Her own obnoxious personality found a kindred spirit in him. His smirk was filled with mirthfully smutty intent when he spoke. “As far as threesomes go, you lucked out on good substitutes for Nat and me, Double D. Just remember, pics or it didn’t happen.”

Darcy snickered at his humour, his ongoing joke about her joining in his and Natasha’s relationship was a common schtick with the brunette lab assistant. Neither Steve nor Bucky found Clint to be particularly funny though. Steve pierced Clint with a steely, Captain-America-does-not-approve glare that had the archer taking an instinctive step back. Bucky’s response was more feral. He bared his teeth and spat out something especially vicious-sounding in Russian. Clint had spent enough time with Natasha to understand the threat behind the curse words, if not the actual phrase itself. Natasha, for her part, only smirked at the exchange.

Hoping to mollify Darcy’s two champions, Clint quickly stuttered out a hasty blessing. “Congratulations on your soulmates, Darcy! Oh, look! Coulson is desperately trying to get my attention. I gotta go help him!” And he beat a quick retreat to an oblivious and departing Phil.

Before Darcy could call out and mock Clint’s obvious escape tactic, a loud booming voice called out. “What is this I hear? My Lightning Sister has found her soulmates? This is joyous news, Lady Darcy! The Captain and the Sergeant are mighty warriors; I’m sure they will serve well as soulmates to an honorary princess of Asgard.”

Now it was Steve and Bucky’s turn to look up with slight unease. Darcy was Jane’s best friend. Jane was Thor’s lady love. Darcy was a favourite of Thor’s. While the god of thunder appeared to be giving his blessing, his wish for Darcy’s happiness and well-being was not lost on the two super soldiers. Especially when his large, bulky frame was pressed into the doorway, dwarfing the Iron Man suit with his bulging muscles and leather armour. This wasn’t exactly a shovel talk, but the implications were pretty clear: treat her right, or else. It wasn’t like the men had any intentions to do otherwise, but hearing the powerful god’s veiled warning was enough to have both Steve and Bucky mentally reaffirming their commitment to make Darcy happy.

“Aww, thanks, big guy. Love you, too.” Darcy cooed at Thor.

The blond prince shifted his serious gaze from the two men on either side of his chosen sister. His entire face softened as he looked at the brunette. He subtlety checked her over for injuries. His Lightning Sister was a brave and worthy warrior, quite capable of taking care of herself, but he needed to see for himself that she was unharmed. “You are well, Little One?”

“S’all good, Thor. I kinda really just wanna get out of here, though.”

At her request, Steve and Bucky sprang into action. They jumped to their feet, and, using their grip on her sides, helped to steadily raise her to her own feet. Bucky was more of a worrier, and was very protective of his loved ones, so Steve was unsurprised by his intense survey of Darcy. Bucky must have decided he didn’t like what he saw in Darcy’s slightly trembling form, because he scooped one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. He lifted her smoothly and pressed her gently into his chest. Aside from a tiny gasp of surprise at the swift motion, Darcy was content to snuggle into the comfort her soulmate was offering. Steve ran one hand briefly through Darcy’s hair again before stroking it up to Bucky’s shoulder, clasping the side of his neck affectionately for taking such good care of their girl. Then he left his soulmates’ sides to retrieve his shield from where it had been lying all this time.

Stark finally seemed to get his thoughts under control - well, control for him, anyway. “Oh my god. I can’t believe the geriatric soldiers are okay with having a threesome! I didn’t even think you knew what sex was! And now you’re telling me you two are gung ho for a committed polyamorous relationship?”

“Fucking hell, Stark.” Bucky said in exasperation, as he pushed his way passed the rambling billionaire.

Steve followed his two soulmates. As he passed Tony, he made his voice purposefully rife with innuendo. “What’s the matter, Tony? You act as though sex wasn’t invented until you were born.”

“But it wasn’t!” Tony insisted. “Soulmates in your day sat and talked. You sipped milkshakes at the soda shop. You played canasta. You slept in separate beds! Every ‘I Love Lucy’ episode proved that!” His voice became more vehement as he continued to call after the departing trio.

Darcy’s voice could just be heard cackling gleefully as she delivered a parting shot to Tony. “Whatever you say, Tony! Now me and my soulmates are gonna go ‘play canasta’ all night long! Don’t wait up!”

***

Unfortunately, Darcy’s plans didn’t quite turn out the way she was hoping. For starters, they did sleep in separate beds. That night, anyway. Once back at the tower, neither man would be dissuaded from having Darcy checked out by medical. She insisted she felt fine - and really she hadn’t been hurt at all by the kidnappers, aside from a few jabs of the needle. The doctors wanted to keep her overnight though. They wanted to make sure she was monitored while the drugs she had been injected with were fully flushed from her system. Steve and Bucky were all too happy to back doctor's orders by refusing to let her leave her appointed hospital bed. The only good thing that came from it was that, in ensuring Darcy did not sneak out of the sick bay, both of her soulmates stayed with her, sitting on chairs on either side of her bed.

Although unhurt, Darcy had still been put through the ringer that day. So, it was no surprise to Steve and Bucky when their new soulmate began to complain less and less about her enforced bed rest, and she slipped quickly and deeply into sleep.

***

Darcy threw her eyes open to take in darkness and an eerie sense of the unfamiliar. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t fucking breathe! She thrashed violently, attempting to free herself from the suffocating constraints restricting her movements. She didn’t know what they were; she didn’t know where she was. She only knew that if she could just force even a single breath past the icy block crushing her ribs, then she’d be able to think clearly again and figure the rest out.

Two looming figures materialized out of the darkness on either side of her. She couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t make out any distinguishing features. They immediately went to surround her, hemming her in, and despite not knowing them, she felt an absurd and immediate amount of trust that they wouldn’t hurt her. She couldn’t comprehend it. But, for whatever reason, their closeness was helping her. Rather than feeling further trapped, their nearness comforted her.

This was the worst part about panic attacks, she reasoned, finally understanding that’s what this was. She still couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t hear anything. She was able to see - now that her eyes were adjusting - the two men were rubbing their hands up and down her arms, petting her hair and her tear-soaked face. But she couldn’t FEEL it. As more details came to her, she was able to make out their mouths. Her attention focused on their lips; they were moving, but she was unable to hear any of their obviously soothing sounds.

That’s what the panic attacks did to her. There was nothing: no air, no feeling, no sound. Just the clawing terror shredding at her insides remained.

One of the men left. She wanted to stop him. She wanted to call him back, whoever he was. To have both of them cacoon her, help convince her there was something here besides the nothingness. She couldn’t, though. She had no air to breathe her request. She had no strength to lift her arms and hold him to her.

She watched him leave, and was only vaguely aware that her position was changing. She was being maneuvered into a new spot. Suddenly the lights turned on, half-dimmed so as not to be blinding after the darkness. She could see now she was sat upright. She was on a bed, in a room she had never been in before. A memory was coming back: yellow walls, yellow ceiling - not from paint, but grime and age. The memory scared her more.

Then the man was back in front of her. And she came to the realization that she was leaning against - back to chest - the second man. They were so familiar, but her memory wouldn’t come yet. Air. She needed air to think.

The man before her was fair, like an angel - so beautiful. He took the cloth he held in his hands and started wiping her face. Did he have that before? Is that what he left to get? It was nice. She was beginning to feel the warmth that seeped from the damp cloth into her icy skin.

She looked down and saw... metal? Yes, metal: banded across her chest. Is that what was stopping her from breathing? No. This bar was a support; it was keeping her up, not holding her down. She followed the metal up and to the side. She saw soft brown hair pressed into her shoulder. If the blond man was angel, surely this man was, too. He was dark and glorious, but just as beautiful.

As if sensing she was looking at him, his head lifted, and his light blue eyes pierced into her, passed the nothingness. If she concentrated, she could just make out the buzzing words he spoke in her ear. “Come on, Darcy. I need you to breathe. Just take a breath, doll. Come on. Feel my chest behind you? In time with me, Darcy. Please. Please, just breathe.”

The warmth from the washcloth wiping at her cooled skin and the rising and falling beneath her finally got through to her, and she took a shuddering breath. Not deep, but it was enough to get a little air.

“That’s it, Sweetheart.” Came the voice in front of her. “Nice and deep now. Take it slow. Another breath in. Just follow Bucky.”

Darcy nodded in acquiescence, content to lose herself in the steady rhythm underneath her. Slowly, more feeling started to return. She felt a steady thrum of a heartbeat, not her own - it was too strong, too sure, to be her own after an attack. She closed her eyes and focused on matching her heart to that beat. Strong fingers were wrapped around where her hands clenched in her lap. They were calloused and hard, but so warm. The washcloth had warmth, too. It left paths of it as it slid along the flesh of her face, her neck, her chest, her arms. Another warm hand - different than the one cupping her fists - trailed behind the cloth.

When she opened her eyes some time later, the panic was gone. Her breathing was back to normal; she was feeling warm and safe. She knew who she was. More importantly, she knew who they were. Her men. Her soulmates. Steve in front of her, with his washcloth. Bucky at her back, holding her hands and guiding her breaths. They were hers.

She let out a sob. She curled her head into Bucky’s neck and unclasped her hands so she could fist them in Steve’s white t-shirt and pull him into her. The words came spilling out of her as the two men held her tight between them. “I was so scared. I tried not to be. I pretended I was brave, that I was strong. But the entire time I was so afraid! I didn’t know what they wanted with me. I tried once to get away. I fought. I fought, but I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t get away, and I didn’t know if anyone was coming!”

Bucky and Steve said nothing. They hugged her close. They pressed kisses into her hair, her shoulders, her face - anywhere they could reach. But they didn’t say anything. They just let her get it out, cry it all out.

They had moved her, when morning came and the doctors said she could leave, into their apartment at the tower. They wanted her close, and they figured she wouldn’t want to wake up in a hospital room, thinking that would scare her. So, while she’d been still asleep, Bucky had once again scooped her up into his arms and carried her away. Steve had trailed behind with Darcy’s things: her clothes that she had changed out of before donning the comfortable sweats a worried Jane had provided upon greeting Darcy last night. Her purse, which he had picked up from the floor of the safehouse where the goons had thrown it - thankfully, or the team would never have been able to find the girl. They wanted Darcy to wake up feeling safe, with all of her things. It hadn’t quite panned out that way.

“Sorry.” Came a quiet voice, the words sounding raspy from a surely abused throat.

Steve leaned slightly away to fetch the glass of water sitting on the nightstand beside them, offering it to her chapped lips. Bucky pressed a kiss to Darcy’s hair, breathing in her scent to reassure himself before speaking. “Whatever for?”

Darcy sipped slowly at the water, formulating her answer. When she had had enough, she pushed the glass away gently and gave Steve a grateful smile. “For this. For me. For being unable to save myself. For being stupid enough to get grabbed in the first place.”

Bucky’s grip around her tightened, not uncomfortably, just more tensely. Steve snapped the glass back down on the nightstand. Water sloshed over the sides and onto his hand. His eyes were serious, his brows furrowed. When he spoke, his voice was stern, authoritative, completely the Captain’s with none of Steve’s playful teasing or gentle sweetness. “Listen to me carefully, Darcy. What happened was not your fault. None of it.”

Darcy found it hard to meet his eyes, so she cast her gaze downwards. Steve wouldn’t let her evade, though. With tender fingers, he tilted her chin back up. “This is important. You are not to blame. We should have been more prepared for an event such as this. Being as close to the Avengers as you are makes you a target. We should have made sure you were safe whenever you left the tower. We should have ensured you knew how to defend yourself against possible attacks as best you can. And NOT-” He emphasized when it looked like she was about to speak. “Just Natasha showing you a couple moves at the gym when she’s not on a mission.”

“Stevie’s right, Doll.” Darcy shifted her gaze to the side where Bucky’s eyes were just as serious as Steve’s. “Being affiliated with the Avengers means we should have made sure you had real training, and that there were precautions in place to take care of you. I hope you don’t mind, but Steve and I plan to make sure you get all that now. We can’t have our soulmate wandering around big, bad New York without protection.” He smirked.

“Hey!” Darcy began, her hackles rising a little at the implied condescension. “I tased a GOD once. I’m not some helpless damsel in distress. Ya, I could do with a little defence training, but I’m not some little bird to be coddled. Was I kidnapped? Yes. But I also made a valiant escape attempt that managed to break one of the fuckers’ noses, and I didn’t fall apart until the morning after I was rescued and safe again!”

Steve and Bucky shared a look, then turned their identical expressions to her. Darcy could only describe them as smug. The two were complete trolls. They had purposefully played up her role as the helpless kidnappee, babied her with promises to keep her safe, pretended to take responsibility for her vulnerability, all to get a rise out of her. All to get her to realize that she was blaming herself when no one else was. It was all to lift her out of her brooding, self-deprecating funk. The assholes. The beautiful, caring, wonderful assholes.

“Okay, okay! I get it. Pity party is over. It’s not my fault. I’m not blaming myself for not being able to save myself.” She conceded. But before they could say anything, she continued cheekily. “But I am totally taking you guys up on your offer for proper self-defence training. If this ever happens again, I am going to kick so much ass. And by the time you and your team of avenging slow pokes swoop in, I’ll have the minions tied up or unconscious, and I’ll be sitting there, filing my nails, all nonchalant like Nat does. And I’ll go, ‘oh, what took you so long?’”

“Planning on getting yourself kidnapped often, are you, Doll?” Bucky asked. His eyes turned mischievously shifty and playful. “I can’t really let that happen. But I will help train you in defence. In fact… we can start right now.”

Quick as a whip, both Steve and Bucky were up off the bed. Of course, since Bucky had been behind her this whole time, it meant that she was propelled up to her feet as well.

Darcy was just regaining her balance when, all of a sudden, Bucky was behind her again. In a near imitation of their previous position on the bed, Bucky had his broad chest pressed snugly against her back. His feet were braced apart on either side of hers, and he wrapped his flesh arm around her shoulders to capture her in a hold around the chest. He pressed his nose into her temple, right above her ear. When he felt a shiver trace through her entire frame, he couldn’t stop himself from sticking the tip of his tongue out and tracing it along the perfect, pink shell.

His voice was lower, gravelly from the sudden desire flashing through his body, and he felt himself harden against the rounded curves of her backside. “”Course, I take more of a practical approach in lessons.”

Steve was leaning against one of the bedposts at the end of the bed, watching his two soulmates pressed together with an unmistakeable glint of lust in his sapphire eyes. His arms were crossed comfortably over his muscled chest, and his own tongue darted out to lick his lips when he saw Bucky tasting the sensitive flesh of Darcy’s ear. “Go easy on her, Buck. We want her to come back.” He teased darkly.

Darcy could feel Bucky smirk against her cheek, but his gaze, like hers, was riveted to the sight of Steve as he reached one hand behind his back to pull his shirt up and off. Bucky let out a low whistle between his teeth, but Darcy gasped audibly, her hands instinctively reaching up to clasp at Bucky’s forearm over her chest. She needed something to anchor her, because the sight of a shirtless Steven Rogers was enough to make her knees tremble dangerously.

Steve, complete punk that he was - and now Darcy knew why Bucky called Steve that, what with his sassy attitude - basked in the wanting gazes his soulmates were giving him. Then he leaned back against the bedpost, crossing his arms and flexing his biceps and pecs with the motion. Twin groans of lust came from the embracing couple, and Steve just waved his hand, as if giving permission for Bucky to continue with his ‘lesson’. “Carry on, Buck.”

More used to the sight - though certainly not immune, by any means - Bucky was more quickly able to shake himself out of his lust-addled stupor. He turned his attention once more to the curvaceous woman in his arms. Her breathing was becoming laboured, and he could feel her heart pounding rapidly beneath his arm. He smirked devilishly down at the soft bundle he held. Deciding to get her attention back on him, he moved his metal hand to her rest just below her bellybutton, riding the waistband of the low-slung sweatpants she had on. He traced his cool fingers under the soft cotton shirt, just above her pants, in a long line across her smooth belly. The delicate sensors of his prosthetic transmitted the warmth and silkiness of her flesh. When he reached her hip, he cupped his hand there, letting it rest lightly.

He definitely had Darcy’s attention now.

She was moving subtly against his groin. Tiny undulations and swivels of her hips that drove him mad, but intoxicated him with his want for more.

“Focus on me, Doll.” He said laughing, and he gave a playfully sharp nip to the lobe of her ear. ”Now, what you want to do is-”

Before he could get any further into his explanation, Darcy was moving. She snapped out of her haze from staring at Steve’s chest when Bucky started caressing her stomach. She was almost entranced by his embrace when he nipped her ear and chuckled. That brought her back, and she decided she would surprise her smug super soldier soulmates. Using his distraction with her body, she brought her foot quickly up and then down on to Bucky’s instep. In the same motion, she pushed away the arm he had against her chest, and using her grip on it, she bent forward at the waist and rolled him over her right shoulder.

Bucky found himself flat on his back on the mattress. Luckily, they were close to the bed. So, when she threw him, he had landed crosswise on the bed, and not on the floor. Which is where he would undoubtedly have landed. After she threw him. HIM. The Winter Soldier. He had been distracted, sure. Who wouldn’t be when holding Darcy? But she had actually managed to throw him.

Bucky was still stunned, but Steve was laughing. He got over his surprise within seconds after seeing Bucky get tossed. The surprised look on the darker man’s face put a cap on it. Steve gripped one hand on his rolling abs and his other braced himself against the bedpost as he let out deep belly laughs. His words were barely comprehensible through the sounds of his mirth. “Where’d you learn to do that, Darcy? That was amazing!”

The brunette turned her attention to Steve. She watched his eyes crinkle with laughter, his perfect dimples highlighted gloriously by the joy in his face. Thor above, he was beautiful. She shrugged in response to his question. “Sandra Bullock is my hero. I’ve seen ‘Miss Congeniality’ at least a hundred times.”

Darcy then turned to stare down at Bucky, feigning innocence. She sucked one side of her cheek into her teeth and pursed her lips. She made her velvety brown eyes as wide as possible, though they laughed mercilessly at him from their depths. “So… what do I wanna do?”

Bucky gave a whoop of laughter. Then he let out a playful growl, and, quicker than any movement she could see, had grabbed Darcy and rolled over with her pinned beneath him on the bed. He didn’t want to startle her, so he was slightly lower, his face in line with her belly, and he was raised up on his elbows so as not to cage her in. However, the position left his chest pressed snugly between her spread thighs. Any laughter from her died with a sharp, heated gasp. “Well, Doll? What DO you wanna do?”

Darcy speared both hands into Bucky’s dark hair, massaging his scalp with her long fingernails. The action caused him to growl deeply in his chest, and she felt it right at her center, where liquid heat was pooling. Fuck, that was good! “I want to kiss you. Both of you.” Her eyes raised to look at Steve, and the blond came to join them on the bed, lying at their sides. “I haven’t actually kissed either of you yet - officially. And that needs to change. That needs to change, like, right now.”

Bucky surged up and caught her lips. Despite the quickness of his motion, the kiss was soft and slow. He was thorough in his exploration of her mouth. He nibbled and sucked on her lush lips, tracing their shape with an intoxicating delicacy. His entire being gave the impression that he would be content to lazily experience her mouth for ages. He waited for her to open her mouth, waited for her to slip her tongue along the seam of his lips, before he moved deeper. Maintaining the languid pace, he explored the soft recesses of her mouth. Whimpering noises were dragged from her as he slowly devoured her.

When he pulled back, her lips followed his, seeking the return of his taste. Her voice was blissfully content. “That was... mmmmmm.”

Bucky chuckled as he levered himself away from her and off the bed. “Don’t forget Stevie now, Doll.”

“Impossible to” Darcy breathed.

She felt the emptiness of losing Bucky quickly replaced by the raging furnace of heat that was Steve. It was enough to make her toes curl, when he covered her and caged her in. Feeling the solid mass of his hips snug into her thighs made her gasp and pull her knees up to bracket his sides. She wrapped herself around him tightly. Bucky was a warm, solid pleasure, but Steve - who had the full advantage of the serum enhancing his body - was an inferno of desire. She was a moth drawn to his flame. All she wanted was to get closer to him, touch every part of his bare skin that she could reach.

When Steve kissed her, it was just as encompassing as his presence was. He nipped at her lips for immediate entry and plundered. And, boy, did Darcy enjoy the plundering.

Steve dove into kissing Darcy like he was dying of a thirst only she could quench. His tongue plumbed the depths of her mouth, seeking every secret taste she possessed, even the remaining traces of Bucky from their kiss. He speared his fingers into her hair, holding her head firmly, but gently, loathe to let her pull back until he was satisfied.

Darcy was just as voracious in her response to him. While kissing Bucky had been a thorough, inevitable slide into lust, Steve was passion in its purest form. He overwhelmed her in the best possible way, and dueled her for domination of the kiss. When he pulled back, they were both gasping, eyes tearing into each other with wanton abandon.

“More.” She pleaded.

Her hands were grasping onto his shoulders, nails digging deliciously into his skin. She tilted her hips up, and Steve swore he saw stars burst behind his closed eyelids. Her voice dripped with unabashed want. From over his shoulder he could hear the ruffling of Bucky removing his clothes as the other man spoke. “You heard the lady, Punk. Don’t leave her begging.”

Steve dipped his head to Darcy’s neck. He took one moment to inhale her fragrant skin before his lips descended. He marked her skin with tender ruthlessness. The possessive kisses and nips claimed her pale throat as his territory. When he grazed his teeth along the cord of her jugular, he heard Darcy cry out sharply and snap her hips up into his. Her hands drove into his hair, pulling him tighter to her throat, as his tongue laved the spot. Then, he pulled his head back slightly and breathed hot, moist air over the dampened skin, and he heard Darcy start babbling incoherent pleas.

A shifting weight to his side signalled Bucky’s return. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw the dark head lower, and Darcy’s cries were muffled by his soothing lips. Steve continued his feast on her neck.

Darcy was soothed by the sudden tender kisses of Bucky. Steve’s attention to her sensitive throat was driving her wild, but Bucky’s expert lips assuaged the need, helped to soften the edge of her burning desire. She lifted one hand from where it was grasped in Steve’s blond hair, and rested it gently on Bucky’s cheek. Both of his hands cupped her face. He stroked her cheek, ran his fingers through her hair, splaying the soft tresses out on the spread beneath them. His flesh hand shifted down to the side of her neck that Steve was not sucking at and massaged into her skin. She sighed into his mouth, letting his lips catch the soft sound of pleasure.

Both men raised their heads at that noise. Darcy was laying back against their bed. Her eyes were partially closed. Her breathing was deep and unsteady, making her lovely breasts rise and fall with enticing movement. Her lips were kiss-reddened, and she had soft love bites littering the pale, smooth column of her throat. She looked thoroughly debauched, and it made the two men grin devilishly.

Darcy opened her eyes more to look at her soulmates. Steve was bare-chested, the muscles of his chest and upper arms right within her reach as he knelt between her raised knees. Bucky, she noticed, was bare-chested too. He must have taken the time to remove his shirt - and his pants! Thank you, Thor! Almighty Mew-mew, the man had abs to bounce a quarter off. Without her brain telling it to, her hand reached out to trace a finger along the ridges of his abdomen, delighting in the silky firm muscles beneath her hand. When Bucky shivered and let out a low groan, Darcy smirked. Then she lifted her other hand and imitated the motions on Steve’s equally awesome rock-hard abs. She got the same reaction from him.

“It’s like playing an instrument.” She marvelled jokingly. “A beautiful, manly, muscle-y instrument. A single stroke, and I can make the both of you sing.”

So saying, she dipped her hands down in a firm caress over both men’s clothed groins - Steve’s by his sweats and Bucky’s by the briefs he had left on. Both men shuddered at the friction, pressed more firmly into her hands, and groaned deeply with lust.

“You’re playing with fire there, Darcy.” Bucky gasped out as she continued to stroke them teasingly. However, he made no move to pull away from her hand. And he could see, neither did Steve.

“Tell ya what I want…” Darcy purred, and her voice sounded like sex: deep and husky.

“What?” Steve groaned out as she pressed her hands more firmly into them. “What do you want, Sweetheart? Tell us and it’s yours.”

Bucky was nodding frantically in agreement, biting his lip to keep some control of his body’s reaction to her.

“Kiss.” She whispered.

“Which one of us do ya want first, Doll. Just tell us who.” Bucky was finding coherent speech difficult right now. He figured he’d have to pull away soon or risk embarrassing himself. There was no way he was letting this end before Darcy had gotten off. Multiple times, if he and Steve had anything to say about it.

Luckily he didn’t have to worry about that. Darcy pulled her hands away from them. Bucky wanted her to continue touching him. From Steve’s grunt and the way his hips canted forwards to follow her hand, he obviously felt the same. Still, both men knew they could use the break to resettle themselves. Darcy shimmied up the bed and away from Steve, and she rolled off the mattress.

Both heads turned to stare at her. Their eyes, individual shades of blue, were riveted on her as she played with the hem of her shapeless t-shirt. She swivelled her hips and slowly inched the material up to reveal a bare patch of skin in a seductive strip tease. When her soulmates made to reach for her, she shook her head slowly.

She continued to remove her shirt teasingly. When it was off, she threw it to some corner. Then she watched their blue eyes darken as she ran her hands up her naked torso, cupping her breasts, feeling her flesh warm under her own hands. “I want you two to kiss. I want to see it. I want to watch you get lost in each other.”

Steve and Bucky easily complied. Touching Darcy, being touched by Darcy and watching her touch herself, had ramped up their desire to dizzying heights. When they dove for each other, there was no tenderness, no slow exploration. They knew each other intimately. Their tastes were as much a part of each other as their own was to them. No matter how many times they gave to each other, they were always captured in the perfect way they completed each other.

Steve gripped his fingers into Bucky’s longer hair, knowing he liked the slight tug along his scalp. Bucky used his teeth to sharply nip at the blond’s lower lip, because Steve was sensitive there. When they rubbed their tongues together, they realised it was slightly different now. Bucky could taste the fragrant perfume of Darcy’s neck from where Steve had been biting. Steve was able to distinguish Darcy’s unique flavour from Bucky’s tongue. The newness of finding their newest soulmate’s essence in the old, familiar kisses sent exhilarating shocks of lust straight to their hardened members.

So lost were they in experiencing this new aspect of each other, they had completely lost track of Darcy. It was only her whimpering moans that brought their attention back to the brunette. And they were not prepared for the bullet of lust that shot into them when the sensual image she made greeted them.

Darcy had stripped completely bare. Her pale curves were displayed lovingly in all their glory. Her shapely body reminded the men of the pin-up girls they used to see in posters during their war days. Her long dark hair fell in riotous curls down her back, contrasting beautifully with the purity of her skin. Her slick lower lip was bitten between her teeth. Her deep chocolate eyes were half closed in ecstasy as she peered at them. The reason for her libidinous state and sexy sounds was her hands. One was kneading her breast, pulling on the rosy nipple and rolling it between her fingers; the other was between her thighs. Two fingers spread her lower lips wide, displaying her swollen clit; one finger circled around the glistening nub, torturously slowly but never actually touching it directly. She was working herself up, though she refused the touch that would bring here to satisfaction.

Steve and Bucky were undone. They reached out to her, pulling her into their arms. Bucky knocked away the hand that was rubbing her breast and set his metal fingers to take over rolling the delicate nipple. He latched his mouth onto the other bud, using lips and teeth and tongue to drive Darcy mad. Steve pulled away the hand that was between her thighs. He made eye contact with her as he slowly sucked her fingers into his mouth, licking her sweetness up. He moaned decadently at the taste. He pulled Bucky’s head away from her breast in a quick kiss to share her flavour. Bucky, who had not seen what Steve had done, jolted at the first taste of her in his mouth. Deciding they both wanted more, they pushed Darcy flat onto the bed.

The two men lay by her thighs, one hand reached up to knead at a breast. Darcy raised her own hands to press them firmer into her chest, to keep them rolling at the pressure she liked best. Using their other hands, each man pulled at a leg, spreading her wider. Steve’s gaze was focused on her dripping center, but Bucky’s surprised grunt stopped him.

“Take a look, Stevie.” He said, his own finger tracing his words on the right thigh he held. He placed a gentle kiss to the soul mark, drawing a moan from Darcy.

“Damn. That’s beautiful.” Steve murmured, tracing his own words and pressing a kiss as well, earning a shiver. “Don’t know how we missed seeing them before.”

“Probably because you were too busy thinking about getting you tongue in her pussy.” Snarked Bucky.

Both men felt Darcy’s hands clench over top of theirs. She let out a keening noise, much like a whimper, but higher. A gush of liquid from her center followed her reaction.

Steve smirked deliciously as he licked his lips. “I think she liked hearing you talk dirty to her. You do that while I keep my mouth busy another way… Then we can switch.”

Bucky looked up at Darcy. His molten eyes raked across her frame splayed out for them. “Is that what you want, Darce?” He crooned. “You want me tell you everything Steve and I plan to do with you, to you, as he eats you out good and proper?”

Another pool of slick leaked out of her at his words. “Oh, God, yes!”

Steve growled before he surged forward. Using the flat of his tongue, he licked one long stripe from hole to nub, collecting all her juices and spreading them around.

“HOLY SHIT!” Darcy shot up, her eyes blown wide with lust, but the boys used their hands on her chest to gently force her back down and pin her there.

“You gotta lay still, Doll. Gotta lay still so Steve can reach his tongue into every deep, secret part of you.” Bucky husked into her thigh. His own tongue worked at her soul mark, even as his eyes remained fixed on hers. “He’s gonna lick you up, empty you out until you’re screaming his name and your sweet little pussy is clenching around his tongue.”

“She’s dripping. Keep talkin’, Buck.” Steve ordered. He speared his tongue in sharp jabs directly to her clit, then encompassed the swollen nub in his lips and sucked gently. As liquid heat gushed out of her, he pulled away to circle his tongue around her hole, slipped the tip in, for just a sip, then plunged deep for her essence.

Darcy’s head was thrashing back and forth on the pillows. Her hands had rushed down to clasp at Steve’s head, holding him close to her, tugging at his hair in delight. Her breaths were starting to come in panting gasps. She felt a flare of heat starting at the base of her spine. “Please, keep talking, Bucky! Oh, Steeeve!”

“Does he feel good with his tongue inside you? Are you ready to come all over his mouth and face? Are you thinking about the way I’m gonna be next? Cause I am, Darcy.” Bucky’s voice was dark and urgent. “When you come, I’m gonna be the one who gets to lick those juices up. I’ll taste you all over my tongue. Think I’ll be able to taste Steve? Cause he’s inside you right now, leaving his flavour all over you.”

At that, Steve brought his hand up to push the tip of his thumb into her, alongside of his tongue. That extra stretch, combined with Bucky’s remarks, had the tight knot in Darcy’s stomach coiling. When she felt just the slightest graze of Steve’s teeth on her clit, she shattered. She let out a sob of ecstasy as she broke. Trembles racked her body, and she tried to clench her thighs to control wave, but they wouldn’t let her. Bucky continued to murmur words against her thigh, though she couldn’t understand any of them. Steve never stopped spearing her with his tongue, riding out her spasming muscles until the end.

Darcy stared blankly at the ceiling until her senses returned to her. She had one hand grasped in each of her soulmates’ hair. When she became a little more cognisant, she was able to feel them both kissing her marks on her thighs.

But that’s not right. Bucky had been on her right, kissing his words. And now, he was on the left side, tracing Steve’s words with his tongue. And Steve was now on her right thigh, nipping lovebites similar to the ones on her throat around Bucky’s words. Every once in awhile they would reach up and kiss each other instead of her thighs, but that didn’t change the fact that they were now on opposite sides from where they had been. Some time during her blissed out state, they had switched places… And she hadn’t even noticed!

“Sneaky sex ninjas.” She commented.

“You complaining ‘bout that, Doll?” Bucky asked cockily, tilting his head up so he could look in her face without moving his lips from her silky skin.

“After the best orgasm of my life? Not a damn bit!” She enthused.

Steve nipped at a spot and soothed the sting with his tongue. Then he turned his smug eyes to Bucky, and Darcy could feel as well as see the smirk he sent the darker man’s way. “You hear that, Jerk? The best orgasm. Of. Her. Life.”

“So far, Punk.” Bucky groused. But his eyes turned distinctly heated when he stared up and down her body, his gaze coming to a rest at her glistening center. “But the day’s not over. Hell, I ain’t even started yet.”

Their hands once again raised to her breasts to hold her down. Darcy had a moment to think about what his ominous words meant for her. Keep your hands and feet inside the car at all times, and enjoy the ride! She thought that sounded like damn good advice. Especially when Bucky puffed a breath of hot, moist air on her sensitive folds.

“If you think you can do better, Jerk…” Steve snarked. After that, he turned his gaze to Darcy, and his voice dropped huskily to convince her. “What do you think, Sweetheart? Can you go again? Bucky’s been dying to get his mouth on you. He’s also got a very talented tongue - and I should know. Just wait ‘til he starts playing you. You won’t regret it.”

Darcy felt fresh moisture pool at her core, and she looked at Bucky’s ravenous stare. She gave a dainty shrug of her shoulders, mentally preparing herself for another build-up to a likely equally shattering climax. “Fair’s fair.”

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Perhaps an overpowering tide of lust like Steve’s performance? She should have known better. Bucky’s tongue on her sex was exactly like his kiss on her lips. It was thorough, deliberately slow. The entire process was an exercise in control and restraint on Bucky’s part. It was his chance to enjoy her, to open her slowly.

Darcy’s taste was uniquely sweet. Bucky spent the first couple minute lapping up her essence with delicate kitten licks. He used minimal pressure, didn’t delve any deeper into her lips until she asked him. He waited until her hips were tilting up towards his mouth and keening meowls of want were coming from Darcy. Then he brought his flesh hand down from her breast - trusting that Steve would hold her in place - and used two fingers to open her up to his tongue.

Wanting to please her, he spent his time preparing her clit. He ran his tongue in circles around the distended nub, using firm pressure along its sides. When he passed over top of it directly, he danced only the tip of his tongue, not wanting to overwhelm the sensitive peak.

“He’ll take it slow. He knows just the way to build it up. He can push you higher and higher until you feel like you’re ready to explode with release, but you won’t want it to end.” Steve explained hotly as he pressed his lips to the smooth skin of her belly. He nipped at her bellybutton playfully.

“Aah… Bucky! Like that… just like that. He feels good, Steve. So good. Doesn’t he? When he has his tongue on you, does it feel like this? I’d like to see that sometime.” Darcy was lost. She didn’t know what exactly she was babbling, but it definitely got a reaction out of both her soulmates.

Steve stretched up to kiss her. He pressed his aching hardness into Darcy’s thigh, rubbing repeatedly to get some friction. He hissed out in relief when one of Darcy’s small hands slipped into the waistband of his sweats and firmly grasped him. She used her thumb to gather the leaking precum from his tip and slide it down his length, lubricating her strokes. Steve groaned into her mouth hungrily.

Bucky’s reaction was just as visceral. His mouth latched firmly onto her clit. Gone was the gentle, circular teasing. He suckled her skin and rolled the nub around with his tongue. He broke away, pressing fervent kisses to her flesh. “I can’t wait, Darcy. I need to get you ready. I want to be in you. Please, Darcy?”

Darcy released her lips from Steve, kissing at his neck, leaving bite marks as he returned to her neck. “Yes, Bucky! Please! I need you. Need to be filled with you. Feel you deep inside of me. I NEED, Bucky!”

With that, Bucky latched back onto her clit, sucking with purpose. He brought his metal hand up to her center, and slid one long, cool finger into her. His brain just about short-circuited from the signals the transmitters in the digit were recording. Wet, and warm, and tight. He pumped quickly, needing her to be ready faster.

“Oh, God!” Darcy called out when she felt the metal enter her. It was perfect: slim and slick and just the right amount of ungiving hardness. Her hand on Steve sped up in time with Bucky’s finger. “More! Add another! Faster!”

Bucky groaned like a dying man and added a second finger. Pulling away from her clit, he made sure to pump straight in and out. He didn’t want her to come just yet, not until he was inside her.

Steve pulled away from Darcy’s hand. She whimpered when he left her side, but he shooshed her soothingly. She watched as he got off the bed, shucking his sweats and briefs in one go. Then he pulled a box of condoms from the night stand. He pulled one out and strode over to Bucky’s side.

Bucky, aware of what Steve was doing, shifted his position on the bed. He moved to kneel between Darcy’s thighs, his metal hand still pumping, his flesh hand holding her down on top of her stomach to keep her from riding his fingers and finding the friction to finish without him. Steve pulled Bucky’s briefs down his thighs as he crouched over Darcy, and then pulled them off completely. Bucky was so caught up in her, in preparing her, in promising her he’d be inside her soon, that he barely felt Steve give his cock a few strokes and roll the rubber over him.

Once that was done, he was ready. He pulled his fingers out of Darcy, calming her agitated squirming by grasping her hips. “Darcy, look at me, Doll. Do you want this? You have to say the words. Tell me this is alright.”

Her brown eyes gained a crystal clarity as she gazed at Bucky. “I want you, Bucky. You and Steve. My soulmates, always.”

Bucky let out a gratified cry and began to enter her. It was a slow, inexorable penetration: a smooth stroke that didn’t stop until he was up to the hilt. At the pressure of the slide, Darcy broke. She spasmed madly around Bucky as she felt him continue to press into her, as lost to the world in this orgasm as she was in her first. “Buckyyy!”

When fully seated, Bucky paused. Just feeling her walls clenching tightly around him was torture and bliss. He waited until Darcy regained her senses, waited until she was staring up into his face. He waited until her hands were clasping his shoulders and her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. Then, he started to move. He chased his release in sure, steady strokes. He thrust in, long and easy, and when he pulled out, he went almost to the tip. Back and forth, as deep as he could go.

Darcy could feel him on all sides of her passage, filling her up and building her to another, third orgasm. She knew he was at the end of his tether, though. She could feel it in the tremors that shook his frame, in the way he hissed out her name with each thrust. “Let go, Bucky. You feel so good. I want to make you feel so good. Come for me. Come inside me. I want you to.”

Her words were his undoing. He pistoned his hips quickly, and, after three more strokes, found a shattering release that left him breathlessly calling her name. He had enough wherewithal to kiss her deeply once before pulling out of her and falling to the side.

Steve was right there to take his place. Sometime between getting the condom on Bucky and now, he had donned a condom himself. Darcy was a little ashamed to admit that she had been so lost in Bucky, she had momentarily forgotten Steve was even there.

Steve read the chagrin on her face. “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I was enjoying the show.” He said with a couple licentious strokes to his cock. “You two looked so good together, so hot. The way Bucky was sinking into you. The way you were taking him so sweetly. It was impossible to look away.”

“I want you, too, Steve. I do. Lose yourself in me. I want to be filled up by you. I want to come again, around you this time.” Darcy pleaded.

Steve could hardly refuse. He pressed between her thighs and Darcy brought her knees up to embrace him. He passed the head of his covered cock over her entrance, collecting some of her juices to spread up to her clit.

“Please, Steve,” she gasped when he did it again. “I don’t think I can take the teasing. I’m so close already.”

With that, Steve guided the tip passed her entrance. He then raised both arms so he was braced on his elbows by her shoulders, and she was completely surrounded by his body. He gathered her hair into his hands, pulling slightly to force her chin up into a passionate kiss. Then he thrust into her.

His weight was marvellous. He encompassed every part of her. It was amazing to feel him in her, and on her, and around her. His thrusts speared her very center, reaching deep. They rubbed her walls all over and ended directly on her g-spot every time. He made his pace quick, his lunges impaling her with perfect strength. She felt gloriously used. After Bucky’s full, sweeping motions, Steve’s overwhelming passion was just the thing she needed to push her over the edge of oblivion.

“Yes, Steve! God! YES!” And she was lost, carried away by extreme bliss for the third and final time. Clutching tightly to Steve as he jerked his hips into hers in completion, she nestled her forehead against Bucky’s, where it was right next to her. Then, she fell into an exhausted slumber.

***

When she woke again, Darcy was pressed between both men. Someone had taken care of clean up, because there was no stickiness between her thighs, and there was a blanket pulled up around the three of them. She was lying on her stomach, pulled into Steve’s side with her head on his chest. It was hard to find the end of the arm underneath her, but his other arm was crossed over his stomach and resting on her hip. Bucky was spooned behind her. He had his nose pressed into the hair at the back of her neck, and his metal arm was wrapped around to her front and was cupping one of her breasts. Then she looked over her shoulder and found her soulmates’ other arms. They were linked at the hand somewhere up by Steve’s head.

They kinda made a perfect unit together... when she thought about it. Oh, she knew it wouldn’t be all sunshine and daisies. Based on how they met, it was likely there would be more dangerous situations in the future. They were Avengers, after all. Aside from the saving the world stuff, there would be other difficulties, too. Being soulmates didn’t mean there wouldn’t be fights, or misunderstandings. It just meant that these two men would have her back, and her heart - in all things. Just as she would have theirs. And that, she thought, as she settled back into the comfort of their embrace, was the best way to take on their lives.