Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A month.

That's how long it had been since the night Bucky Barnes sat in a chair in Shuri's bedroom and watched Namor fuck his girlfriend.

Then joined in.

A month since the three of them collapsed on that bed, breathing hard, nobody saying a word. Since Shuri stared at the ceiling like it held the answers to a question none of them were brave enough to ask out loud.

They never did talk about it.

Not really.

The next morning, Namor had woken up alone in the bed. Shuri was in the kitchen making coffee, wearing one of his shirts, and Bucky was sitting at the counter eating toast like it was any other day. Like he hadn't had his cock in his girlfriend's mouth twelve hours ago while another man was inside her.

Namor had stood in the hallway watching them for a minute before either of them noticed.

Shuri sipping her coffee.

Bucky chewing his toast.

The kitchen quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator.

Normal.

Except nothing about any of this was normal.

Bucky had looked up first. Their eyes met and something passed between them that Namor couldn't quite name. Not hostility, exactly. Not warmth either. More like two animals sizing each other up and deciding, for now, not to fight.

"Morning," Bucky had said.

"Morning," Namor had replied.

And that was the extent of their first real conversation.

****

The arrangement, if you could call it that, developed without anyone drafting terms or setting ground rules. It just happened. Organic in the way that fucked-up things sometimes are.

Shuri stopped sneaking around. That was the first change. No more fake lab emergencies, no more canceled plans, no more lies.

She didn't have to anymore.

The secret was out, blown wide open, and instead of destroying everything, it had just... shifted things.

Now when Shuri wanted to see Namor, she didn't hide it. She'd text him openly. Come over to his place with Bucky in tow, or invite Namor to her apartment where Bucky was already sprawled on the couch. The boyfriend and the ex, orbiting the same woman, pulled into each other's gravity whether they liked it or not.

And Bucky didn't like it.

That much was obvious.

He wasn't rude about it. Wasn't aggressive or territorial in any way Namor could point to and call out.

He just... didn't engage.

Sat there quiet while Namor and Shuri talked, while they flirted, while the energy in the room thickened into something electric. He'd nurse whatever drink was in front of him and watch with those blue eyes that gave absolutely nothing away.

Namor understood.

He did.

If the roles were reversed, he wouldn't be warm and fuzzy toward the guy who'd been sleeping with his woman for months either. The fact that Bucky got hard watching it didn't change the fundamental problem: Namor was the ex who'd come back and complicated everything.

But here was the thing. Neither of them was going anywhere.

That was crystal clear from day one.

Bucky loved Shuri. Namor could see it in the way he looked at her when she wasn't paying attention. In the way his hand found the small of her back when they walked into a room together. In the way his jaw would tighten whenever Namor touched her, even casually, even just a hand on her knee during conversation.

And Namor? Namor had never stopped loving her. Two years together, a year apart, and every day of that year he'd felt the absence like a missing limb. Getting her back, even like this, even shared, was better than not having her at all.

So they were civil. Because Shuri was worth it. Because the alternative was losing her, and neither of them was willing to let that happen.

****

The sex followed a pattern.

Most nights, it was Namor with Shuri while Bucky watched. That was the default, the configuration they fell into most naturally. Namor would take her to bed, take his time, fuck her the way he knew she liked, and Bucky would be somewhere nearby.

On the chair.

The edge of the bed.

Standing against the wall with his arms crossed like he was supervising a construction project.

Sometimes his cock was in his hand.

Sometimes Shuri would reach for him, pull him close, kiss him while Namor was still inside her.

Touch him while Namor worked her from behind. There were nights when all three of them ended up tangled together, Shuri the center point, the axis they both revolved around.

Other nights, it was Bucky's turn.

He'd pull Shuri onto his lap on the couch, or she'd drag him to the bedroom, and Namor would take up position as the observer.

He was louder than Bucky in that role.

Couldn't help himself. Where Bucky watched in silence, all clenched jaw and white knuckles, Namor talked.

Told Shuri how good she looked.

Told Bucky to fuck her harder.

Directed traffic like a man who couldn't stand to be on the sidelines without making his presence known.

And the kissing.

That had become its own thing.

Namor had kissed Bucky that first night on impulse, leaning over Shuri's back to find his mouth while they were both inside her. Bucky had kissed back immediately, no hesitation, his hand gripping the back of Namor's neck hard enough to bruise. Since then, it happened. Not every time, but often enough that it was part of the rotation.

Namor always started it.

Always.

He'd lean in during a moment when the three of them were close, when Shuri was between them and the air was thick and charged, and he'd kiss Bucky. Slow at first, then deeper when Bucky opened up for him, which he always did.

Bucky never pulled away. Never flinched or turned his head. But he never initiated either. He'd accept the kiss, return it with intensity that surprised Namor every time, and then it would be over and they'd go back to focusing on Shuri like nothing happened.

Namor had been with men before and enjoyed it. Sex was sex, pleasure was pleasure, and he’d never been one to limit himself based on arbitrary rules about who he was supposed to want.

And Bucky was undeniably good looking, all that muscle and those blue eyes and the way he moved.

But they were there for Shuri.

That was the unspoken rule.

Everything was about Shuri.

****

Friday night. Namor's house.

He heard the car pull into the driveway while he was pouring bourbon. The front door opened shortly after and Shuri's laugh hit him before she was even in the room, bright and warm, and something in his chest loosened at the sound.

"We come bearing gifts," Shuri announced, rounding the corner into the kitchen holding up a paper bag. "Mexican food. Your favorite."

Namor set down the bottle and crossed to her in two steps. His hand found her waist, pulling her close, his mouth finding hers. She tasted like lip gloss, sweet and familiar. She kissed him back, rising on her toes, her free hand curling around the back of his neck.

"Missed you," he murmured against her lips.

"It’s been two days."

"Long two days."

She laughed, pushing at his chest playfully. "Let me put the food down at least."

Namor let her go, taking the bag and setting it on the counter. His eyes tracked past her to the hallway, where Bucky had appeared in the kitchen doorway. Leather jacket. Hands in his pockets. Expression carefully blank.

"Barnes," Namor said, reaching for a third glass. "Bourbon?"

"Sure."

One word. That was standard Bucky. Namor poured three fingers and slid it across the counter. Bucky took it with a nod that might have been thanks and drifted into the living room, settling onto the couch like he owned it.

Shuri was already opening containers of food, stealing a bite of tamale with her fingers. Namor came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. She leaned back into him automatically.

"You look incredible," he said, low enough that it was just for her. His eyes swept down her body. She was wearing a dark purple dress that hugged every curve, hem sitting mid-thigh, and those black stilettos she sometimes liked to keep on during. "This dress should be illegal."

"Maybe that’s the point."

His hand slid from her waist down to her hip, thumb tracing the line of the fabric. Lower. The hem of the dress. His fingers grazed the bare skin of her thigh and she shivered.

"Eat first," she said, but her voice had gone breathy.

"I’d rather eat you."

She swatted his hand. "Behave."

He didn't behave.

The Mexican food sat on the counter getting cold while Namor kissed Shuri against the refrigerator, then the counter, then walked her backward toward the living room with his mouth still on hers. She was giggling between kisses, her hands in his hair, and he was smiling against her lips because he couldn't help it. She made him stupid.

Bucky was exactly where they'd left him. Couch. Bourbon. Watching.

Shuri broke away from Namor and dropped onto the couch next to Bucky, curling into his side like a cat. "Hi," she said, looking up at him.

"Hi." The ghost of a smile crossed Bucky’s face. He tucked a braid behind her ear with his finger, and Shuri turned her face to kiss his palm.

Then she was kissing him.

Namor stood there for a second, drink in hand, watching. Shuri had one hand on Bucky's jaw, angling his face down to hers. The kiss was slow and deep, none of the playful energy she'd had with Namor in the kitchen. This was different. Tender. Bucky's hand came up to cradle the back of her head, and he kissed her like she was something special. Something he was afraid of breaking.

They looked good together. He could admit that.

Namor took a sip of bourbon and let them have the moment. Then he set his glass on the side table and crossed to the couch. He sat on Shuri's other side, close enough that his thigh pressed against hers.

Shuri pulled back from Bucky, her lips wet, her eyes dark. She looked at Namor. Then back at Bucky.

Then she took Bucky's face in both hands and turned him toward Namor.

"Kiss him," she said.

Bucky's eyes met Namor's. That same unreadable expression. That same tension in his jaw.

Namor didn't wait for permission. He leaned in and kissed Bucky, one hand coming up to grip the side of his neck. Bucky's mouth opened under his immediately, his tongue sliding against Namor's, and the kiss went from zero to filthy in about two seconds.

Bucky kissed angry. That was the only way to describe it. Like he was trying to prove something, or punish someone, or maybe just burn through whatever complicated shit was happening in his head. His hand fisted in the front of Namor's shirt, pulling him closer, and Namor let himself be pulled. Bit Bucky's lower lip. Felt him groan.

He could feel Shuri next to them, could hear her breathing get faster, and he knew she was watching. Loving this.

The kiss got hotter and deeper. Bucky's grip tightened, and Namor gave as good as he got, his tongue in Bucky's mouth, tasting bourbon and something darker underneath. Heat pooled low in Namor's stomach.

Shuri's hand was on Namor's thigh, squeezing. Her other hand was on Bucky's chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer under her palm.

She broke the kiss by wedging herself between them, pulling Bucky back to her mouth first, kissing him hard and fast, then turning to Namor and doing the same. Her lip gloss was smeared. Her breathing was ragged. She pulled Namor in, then pulled back again, leaving his mouth chasing hers.

Then she leaned away entirely, leaving Bucky and Namor facing each other with no buffer between them.

Bucky closed the gap this time. He tilted forward and Namor met him in the middle, and this kiss was different from the others. Slower and less aggressive. Bucky's hand loosened on his shirt, flattened against his chest instead, and Namor felt his heartbeat kick up under those fingers.

Shuri whispered, "God, you two have no idea how sexy that is."

Namor pulled back first. His breathing was heavier than he wanted to admit. Bucky's was the same, his chest rising and falling visibly, his pupils blown so wide there was barely any blue left.

They held each other's gaze for a beat too long.

Namor's hand was still on Bucky's neck. He could feel his pulse hammering under his thumb.

Shuri slid her hand higher on Namor's thigh and he glanced down. Her legs were slightly parted, the dress riding up. His hand moved on instinct, sliding between her thighs, and his fingers met bare skin.

No underwear.

She was already wet. Slick and hot against his fingers, and he felt her hips rock forward into his touch.

He smirked. "I think I have a pretty good idea, actually."

Shuri bit her lip, squirming against his hand. "I have an idea for tonight."

"Do you now."

"Something different." She sat up straighter, gently moving his hand away. Her eyes were bright, excited, the way they got when she was about to suggest something wild. "Something new."

She stood up from the couch, smoothing her dress down. Then she reached out both hands.

One for Namor. One for Bucky.

Both men took them.

She led them down the hallway to Namor's bedroom. The room was dim, just the ambient light from the hallway spilling in, and the bed was a mess because Namor hadn't bothered making it that morning. Shuri didn't seem to care. She climbed onto the bed and settled in the middle, leaning back against the pillows, her legs crossed at the ankles. The dark purple dress against his gray sheets. The stilettos still on. She looked like a painting.

She looked at them both, standing at the foot of the bed, and said, “Namor’s watched me with you.” Her eyes flicked to Bucky. “And you’ve watched me with Namor.” Back to Namor. “I think it’s only fair if I get to watch for once.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly. Confusion crossing his features. “Watch what?”

But Namor understood immediately.

A laugh escaped him, low and dark. He reached for his belt, already pulling the leather free from the loops. “That what you really want, baby?”

Shuri bit her lip, nodding. Her eyes were locked on him, then shifted to Bucky. “Fair’s fair, right?”

Understanding dawned on Bucky’s face. Namor watched it happen, watched the moment the other man put it together. Bucky’s eyes went from Shuri to Namor, something shifting in his expression.

Wariness, maybe. Or curiosity. Possibly both.

Namor dropped his belt on the floor, the metal buckle hitting the hardwood with a soft clink. He started on the buttons of his shirt, taking his time with each one. His eyes stayed on Bucky’s face, reading every micro-expression.

“You know,” Namor said casually, shrugging his shirt off his shoulders and letting it fall. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

Bucky said nothing. Just watched. Waiting.

“You’re a really good kisser.” Namor stepped out of his shoes, then reached for the button of his jeans. “Made me wonder what else that mouth is good for.”

The air in the room shifted. Got heavier, charged with something electric and dangerous.

Bucky held his gaze for a long moment. Those blue eyes giving nothing away, his jaw tight. Then, without saying a single word, he reached for the hem of his henley and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion.

The shirt hit the floor.

And Namor’s grin widened.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Bucky undressed like he was gearing up for a fight.

Jeans shoved down and kicked aside. The boxers followed, dark gray, hitting the floor somewhere near the dresser. And then he was standing there in nothing but his dog tags, his body on full display.

Namor let himself look.

He'd seen Bucky naked before. Plenty of times over the past month, during those tangled nights with Shuri between them. But he'd never really looked. Not like this. Not with permission. Not with Bucky staring right back at him, jaw tight, chest rising and falling a little too fast to pass for calm.

The man was built like a brick wall. Broad shoulders, thick arms, a torso that tapered into narrow hips. Scars Namor hadn't noticed before.

A jagged line across his left shoulder.

A starburst on his ribs that looked like shrapnel. Smaller ones scattered across his forearms and knuckles. A body that had seen things and survived them.

His cock was hard. Already. Thick and flushed, curving slightly upward, the tip wet. That detail sent a pulse of heat straight through Namor's gut.

He hadn't even been touched yet.

Namor finished undressing with significantly less urgency. He took his time with the zipper, let his jeans slide down his hips, stepped out of them.

No underwear.

Shuri always teased him about that. He straightened up, rolling his neck, completely unbothered by the weight of two sets of eyes on his body.

From the bed, Shuri made a sound. Almost involuntary. Like the air had been punched out of her lungs.

Namor glanced over. She'd scooted back against the headboard, her knees drawn up, that purple dress riding high on her thighs. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth so hard he was surprised it wasn't bleeding.

Her eyes were enormous.

He winked at her.

She whimpered, "Oh my god."

He turned back to Bucky.

The room felt smaller than it was. Just the two of them standing at the foot of the bed, naked, hard, with about three feet of charged air between them. Namor could hear Bucky breathing. Could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands kept flexing at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them.

"Nervous?" Namor asked.

Bucky's eyes narrowed.

"No."

"Liar."

Something flickered across Bucky's face. His jaw worked. But he didn't deny it a second time.

Namor closed the distance between them. One step. Then another. Until they were close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off Bucky's skin. Close enough to see the way his pupils had swallowed the blue of his irises almost entirely. Close enough to count the individual lashes framing those ridiculous eyes.

"Relax," Namor said, and he kept his voice low. He brought his hand up and rested it on the side of Bucky's neck, his thumb settling over his pulse point. It was hammering. "I’ve got you."

Bucky swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed under Namor's palm.

And then Namor kissed him.

Bucky's hand came up and gripped Namor's hip.

Namor deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of Bucky's lips until they parted, and then he was inside. Bucky groaned into his mouth, low and rough, and his grip on Namor's hip tightened.

God, the man could kiss.

Namor had thought that before, every time, but it hit different when they were skin to skin. When he could feel Bucky's chest against his, could feel the hard length of him pressing against his own cock, the contact sending sparks through his nervous system.

He rolled his hips forward. Just enough to grind their cocks together, and the friction pulled a sound out of Bucky that went straight to Namor's dick.

"Fuck," Bucky breathed against his mouth.

"Yeah." Namor did it again. Their cocks sliding together, the precome making it slick and obscene. "That’s good, right?"

Bucky didn’t answer with words. His other hand came up and grabbed the back of Namor’s neck, hauling him back into the kiss with a force that was almost violent. Their mouths clashed, teeth scraping lips, tongues tangling, and Namor grinned into it because there it was.

That fire. That anger-want hybrid that made kissing Bucky different from kissing anyone else.

From the bed: a shaky exhale.

Namor broke the kiss just long enough to look. Shuri had both hands pressed over her mouth, her eyes wide above her fingers, and she was squeezing her thighs together in a way that was not subtle at all.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked her.

"Shut up and keep going."

He laughed. Bucky didn't. Bucky looked like he was trying very hard to hold himself together and mostly failing.

Namor turned back to him. Ran his hand down Bucky's chest slowly, feeling the muscle jump under his palm, the ridge of his abs, the trail of hair below his navel. He wrapped his fingers around Bucky's cock and Bucky's whole body jerked.

"Easy." Namor stroked him. All the way up, thumb sweeping over the head, smearing the precome before sliding back down. "You’re hard as steel already."

"No shit." Bucky’s voice was strained.

His head tipped back slightly, exposing the long line of his throat, and Namor took the invitation. Pressed his mouth to the underside of his jaw, felt the stubble scrape his lips, and sucked. Bucky hissed through his teeth.

Namor kept stroking him. Not fast enough to get him anywhere, just enough to keep the fire burning. Bucky's hips started rocking into his fist, chasing more friction, and Namor let him for a few strokes before slowing down.

"Don’t be a dick," Bucky muttered.

"I think that’s exactly what I’m being."

"Hilarious."

From the bed, Shuri snorted. "You walked into that one, babe."

Bucky shot her a look that would have been withering if he wasn't flushed from his chest to his hairline with Namor's hand wrapped around his cock. The effect was somewhat diminished.

Namor kissed him again to shut him up. This time he guided Bucky's hand down between them, wrapping those calloused fingers around his own cock. Bucky's grip was firm. A mechanic's hands. Rough and sure and good.

Really good.

They stood there, foreheads pressed together, stroking each other. The room was quiet except for their breathing, the wet sound of skin on skin, and the occasional creak of the mattress as Shuri shifted on the bed.

"Shit," Bucky whispered, his hand faltering on Namor’s cock as a particular stroke made his knees buckle slightly. "That’s..."

"Good?"

"Yeah. Good."

Namor twisted his wrist on the upstroke and Bucky's eyes squeezed shut. His mouth fell open, his grip tightening reflexively on Namor's cock, and the pressure was so perfect that Namor groaned.

They were both leaking now. The slide of their hands was wet, filthy, and Namor could feel his own arousal building in waves at the base of his spine.

But he wasn't in a rush.

He wanted to take Bucky apart first. Wanted to watch the last of that careful control crumble.

He pulled Bucky's hand off his cock gently, holding his wrist. Bucky opened his eyes, confused, and Namor held his gaze.

"Get on your knees."

The room went dead quiet.

Bucky stared at him. Something flared in his eyes. That resistance. That stubborn, hardheaded streak that probably made him hell to deal with in every other area of his life.

But underneath it? Underneath the clenched jaw and the squared shoulders?

Curiosity.

Want.

Namor waited. Just stood there, cock hard and wet, and let Bucky make the decision.

"Bucky." Shuri’s voice, soft from the bed. He looked at her. She’d shifted, her legs uncurling, her dress bunched around her waist now. She wasn’t touching herself yet but her hand rested on her inner thigh, fingers tracing idle patterns. "You look so hot right now. Both of you do. God."

Something in Bucky's expression shifted. His shoulders dropped half an inch. The tight line of his mouth softened.

He sank to his knees, his eyes staying on Namor's the whole way down. His hands found Namor's thighs to steady himself, and the touch of those rough palms on his skin made Namor's cock twitch visibly.

Up close, face-to-face with it, Bucky paused. His breath ghosted over the head of Namor's cock and they both felt it. Namor's hand found the top of his head, fingers threading into that dark hair.

"Take your time," Namor said.

Bucky looked up at him through his lashes. Blue eyes, blown black. Jaw set. And then he leaned forward and took the head of Namor's cock into his mouth.

"Fuck." The word left Namor involuntarily, his hand tightening in Bucky’s hair. Wet heat engulfed him. Bucky’s tongue, tentative at first, circled the head, tasting him, figuring out the shape and the weight of it. Then he took more.

His technique was messy but what he lacked in finesse he made up for in sheer determination. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, pulling back to the tip before taking Namor deeper, and each time he went a little further.

Namor's head fell back. His fingers curled tighter in Bucky's hair.

"That’s it," he said, his voice rough around the edges. "Just like that. Use your tongue more."

Bucky pressed the flat of his tongue against the underside, dragging it along the vein, and Namor's hips stuttered forward. Bucky gagged slightly, pulled back, adjusted, and went again.

He was learning fast.

"Oh my god," Shuri breathed from the bed. Namor looked over. Her hand had moved from her thigh to between her legs, her fingers working herself in slow circles, her eyes locked on the sight of Bucky on his knees with Namor’s cock in his mouth. "Bucky, baby, you look incredible. You’re doing so good."

The praise hit Bucky like a live wire. He moaned around Namor's cock, the vibration sending a bolt of pleasure straight through him, and his rhythm picked up. Faster. Sloppier. Taking Namor deeper with each bob of his head until his nose was nearly brushing Namor's pelvis.

"Jesus Christ, Barnes." Namor was breathing hard now. "Your mouth. Fuck."

Bucky pulled off with a wet pop, his lips swollen and shiny, a string of spit connecting his mouth to Namor's cock. He was breathing through his mouth, his chest heaving, and when he looked up at Namor there was something raw in his expression. Wrecked and proud and desperate all at once.

His cock was so hard it looked painful. Curved up against his stomach, the tip dripping untouched.

"You like that?" Namor asked him, and he genuinely wanted to know. "Being on your knees for me?"

Bucky's throat worked. He didn't answer right away. Then: "Yeah." Quiet. Almost surprised by his own honesty. "Yeah, I do."

Namor cupped his jaw. Tilted his face up. Ran his thumb over Bucky's bottom lip, feeling the swollen heat of it. Bucky's tongue darted out and licked the pad of his thumb, and Namor felt his cock throb.

Shuri's voice cut through the thick air of the room, clear and certain.

"Let Namor fuck you."

Both men looked at her.

She was a vision on the bed. The purple dress shoved up around her waist, her thighs spread, her fingers glistening between her legs. The stilettos were still on. She looked debauched and gorgeous and completely in command despite being the only person in the room who wasn't actively participating.

Her eyes were on Bucky. Burning dark. Full of something that went beyond lust into territory that didn't have a name.

"Let him," she repeated. Softer this time. "I want to see it. I want to see you take him."

Bucky was still on his knees. He stared at Shuri for a long moment, something passing between them that Namor wasn't part of. Some private conversation happening in the space between their eyes.

Then Bucky rose to his feet. Crossed to the bed. And kissed Shuri.

The kiss made Namor feel like an intruder in his own bedroom. Bucky held her face in both hands, his thumbs on her cheekbones, and kissed her like he was making a promise. Shuri's wet fingers curled around his wrist, leaving a slick trail on his skin, and she kissed him back just as deep.

When they separated, Bucky's forehead rested against hers.

"Okay," he said quietly. Just to her.

Shuri smiled. Not the wicked grin from earlier. This one was tender. "Okay."

Bucky climbed onto the bed. He moved to the center, glancing back at Namor over his shoulder, and the look on his face was something Namor would remember for a long time.

Vulnerable and fierce. Trusting and terrified.

The look of a man stepping off a ledge and believing someone would catch him.

He settled on his hands and knees.

Namor's mouth went dry.

The sight of Bucky Barnes on all fours in his bed, waiting, muscles taut across his back, dog tags hanging from his neck and swinging slightly with his breathing. It did something to Namor that he hadn't been prepared for. Something that went past arousal into a deeper, more primal place.

He got onto the bed behind him. The mattress dipped under his weight. He placed one hand on Bucky's lower back and felt the muscles tense then release under his palm.

"Shuri." Namor’s voice was steady despite the fact that his heart was slamming against his ribs. "Grab the bottle. Nightstand."

Shuri was already reaching. She leaned over without breaking her position against the headboard, her free hand pulling the nightstand drawer open and fishing around inside. She came back with a half-full bottle of lube and held it out to Namor.

Their fingers touched when he took it. She held on for half a second, her eyes meeting his, and something passed between them too. An understanding that they were all about to cross a line that couldn't be uncrossed.

She let go.

She scooted closer to Bucky, settling near his head, and gently took his face in her hands. Bucky looked up at her, and whatever he found in her expression made some of the tension bleed from his shoulders.

Namor uncapped the bottle. The click was obscenely loud in the quiet room.

He poured lube onto his fingers and rubbed them together, warming it until it was slick and body-temperature. His other hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking himself in long, lazy pulls while he worked.

He brought his wet fingers to Buckys and entranceand the first touch made Bucky flinch hard enough that the mattress shifted.

“Breathe,” Namor said, his clean hand settling on the small of Bucky’s back. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, long and measured, his shoulders dropping half an inch.

Namor started with one finger, circling gently, spreading the lube, letting Bucky get used to the feel of him there before he pressed any deeper. He wanted to rush this. Every nerve in his body was begging him to skip ahead, to line himself up and push into all that tight heat. But this was Bucky’s first time taking someone, and Namor wasn’t about to be the asshole who ruined it by being impatient.

So he took his time, rubbing slow circles until he felt the muscle start to give, and then he eased the tip of his finger inside.

Bucky’s arms were trembling, his whole body fighting itself. His breathing had gone shallow and rough, each exhale punched out of him through clenched teeth.

“You’re okay,” Shuri murmured from in front of him, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones, her face close to his. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, then another to the bridge of his nose. “You’re doing so good, baby. Just relax into it. Let him take care of you.”

Namor pushed deeper, past the second knuckle, and Bucky grunted low in his throat, his head dropping between his shoulders. Shuri caught him, her hands guiding his face back up, and she kissed him. The corner of his jaw first, then his mouth, slow and sweet.

“That’s it,” she whispered against his lips. “There you go. You’re so good.”

Namor added more lube, generous with it, and worked a second finger in alongside the first. He moved them slowly, scissoring gently to stretch him, and Bucky was impossibly tight around him, clenching down on his fingers like his body couldn’t decide whether to pull him in or push him out. The thought of what that grip was going to feel like around his cock made Namor’s eyes close for a second, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep himself under control.

“How’s that feel?” Namor asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Just…” Bucky’s voice came out shredded. “Give me a second.”

Namor held perfectly still and let him adjust. His free hand rubbed small circles on Bucky’s lower back, feeling the tension in the muscles there, the way they kept seizing and releasing as Bucky’s body tried to figure out this new sensation.

After a moment, Bucky shifted his hips. A small, rocking motion, pushing back against Namor’s hand. And then again, a little deeper, a little more sure.

Namor started moving his fingers again, crooking them forward, searching for the spot he knew would change everything. He angled his wrist, pressed deeper, curled his fingers and rubbed.

Bucky’s entire body jolted like he’d been electrocuted and a sound tore out of him that was closer to a shout than anything else.

“There we go,” Namor said, pressing against that spot again, massaging it with his fingertips, and Bucky’s arms buckled completely. His forehead hit Shuri’s thigh and he stayed there, face pressed against her skin, his breathing ragged and desperate.

“Holy shit,” Bucky managed, his voice muffled. “What the hell was that. Do that again.”

“Yeah?” Namor rubbed the spot again and felt Bucky’s whole body shudder. “You like that?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Bucky gritted out, and then gasped when Namor pressed harder. “Fuck. Fuck, that’s…”

“I know.” Namor kept working him, stroking that spot over and over until Bucky stopped fighting it entirely and started pushing back against his hand, chasing the sensation, his hips rolling in a rhythm that was almost desperate. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, flushed dark and dripping onto the sheets below him, and nobody had laid a finger on it.

“God, look at you,” Shuri breathed. She was watching Namor’s hand, watching his fingers disappear inside Bucky’s body, and her own hand had slid between her thighs again, two fingers moving against herself. “He’s ready, Namor.” She looked up and met his eyes over Bucky’s bowed back, and her gaze was black and burning. “He’s so ready. Please.”

Namor withdrew his fingers and Bucky whimpered at the sudden emptiness, his hips pushing back against nothing, and that sound sent a wave of heat through Namor’s entire body so intense his vision blurred.

He slicked himself up with the lube, coating his cock thoroughly, his hand shaking slightly as he gripped the base and positioned himself behind Bucky. The head of his cock pressed against Bucky’s entrance and the heat was staggering, even before he’d pushed in. He could feel Bucky’s body resisting and yielding at the same time.

“Shuri,” Namor said. “Hold him for me.”

She was already there. She took Bucky’s face in both hands and kissed him, deep and soft and long, swallowing whatever sound was building in his chest. Her fingers threaded into his hair, her thumbs stroking his temples, anchoring him to her while Namor anchored himself at his back.

Namor pushed forward.

He went slow, feeding himself in inch by inch, feeling Bucky open around him in increments, tight and hot and so fucking good that his thoughts dissolved into white noise.

Bucky groaned into Shuri’s mouth, deep and guttural, a sound that started in his chest and vibrated through his whole body. Shuri held him through it, kissing him, stroking his hair, murmuring between their mouths in a voice too soft for Namor to catch the words.

“You’re taking him so well,” she said, pulling back just enough to speak, her lips still brushing Bucky’s. She was touching him everywhere she could reach, his face, his hair, his shoulders, grounding him with her hands. “So good, Bucky. You feel him? You’re doing so good for us.”

Namor bottomed out.

He stilled. His hands locked on Bucky’s hips, fingers pressing deep into the skin, his cock buried completely inside him. The heat was suffocating. The tightness was beyond anything he’d prepared himself for, a vice grip of muscle squeezing him from every direction, and his brain short-circuited.

Just went blank. Three full seconds of nothing but white static and pleasure so intense it crossed the line into something almost painful.

“Fuck, Barnes.” The words came out strangled, barely a whisper. He couldn’t manage anything else. Couldn’t even think anything else. “Fuck.”

Bucky was trembling beneath him, his whole body shaking, arms locked to keep himself from collapsing. Shuri was still touching his face, pressing her lips to his temple, the corner of his eye, the shell of his ear. Her hand found his and laced their fingers together on the mattress.

The room was silent except for the sound of three people breathing like they’d just run for their lives.

Bucky spoke first. His voice was raw, wrecked, absolutely destroyed. “Move.”

Namor didn’t need to be told twice.

He pulled his hips back slowly until just the head remained inside, and then he snapped forward. Hard. The impact rocked Bucky’s entire body and ripped a choked sound out of his throat. Namor did it again, and again, settling into a rhythm that was punishing from the very first stroke because Bucky had said move.

The sounds of it filled the bedroom and bounced off every wall.

Skin slapping against skin.

Bucky’s grunts forced out of him with every thrust.

The bedframe creaking and groaning under the force of it. Namor’s own breathing, harsh and heavy, layered underneath the wet slap of their bodies meeting and parting and meeting again.

“Fuck,” Bucky gasped, his fingers clawing at the sheets. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Take it.” Namor’s voice had dropped into something raw, stripped bare, nothing left in it but hunger. His fingers dug into Bucky’s hips hard enough that the bruises would be there for days. “All of it, Barnes. Every fucking inch.”

“You feel so good,” Namor groaned, adjusting his grip, pulling Bucky’s hips back to meet each thrust. “So goddamn tight. Like you were made for this.”

He shifted the angle slightly, tilting his hips, and Bucky practically screamed. His back arched violently, his hands fisting the sheets until his knuckles went bone-white, and Namor knew he’d found that spot again. He aimed for it on every thrust now, hitting it dead on, driving into Bucky with a force that shoved him forward on the mattress until Shuri had to brace against the headboard.

Shuri had given up touching herself entirely. Both hands were free, gripping the pillow behind her, her body pitched forward, her eyes huge and glassy and unfocused.

She looked drunk on it. Completely gone.

Watching Namor pound into Bucky, the sound of them, the raw brutality of it, and her chest was heaving like she couldn’t get enough air.

“Harder,” she said, her voice thick and dazed.

Namor reached forward and grabbed a fistful of Bucky’s hair, yanking his head back hard enough to expose the entire length of his throat, and Bucky let out a broken, cracked moan that sounded like it was pulled from somewhere deep inside him. His spine curved into a beautiful bow and Namor drove into him at this new angle with everything he had.

Shuri slid closer until she was right in front of Bucky, face to face with him, and pressed her open mouth against his exposed throat. She kissed it first, wet and hot, then dragged her tongue up to his jaw and back down again before sucking hard right over his pulse point. Hard enough to mark him.

Bucky shuddered from head to toe, his mouth hanging open, his eyes squeezed shut, caught between the two of them with nowhere to go and no desire to escape.

Her hands traced down his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin, down over the ridges of his abs and the trembling muscles of his stomach.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she said against his throat, and her voice was awed and thick with arousal, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing up close. “Both of you. God, you have no idea. I could watch this forever.”

“Shuri.” Bucky’s voice came out gutted, hollowed out, barely recognizable. “Shuri, I’m close. I’m so fucking close, I can’t…”

“I know, baby.” Her hand kept sliding lower, past his navel, over the trail of hair, until her fingers wrapped around his cock. The first real contact he’d had there since this started, and the sound Bucky made was barely human.

A choked sob of relief that cracked in the middle and turned into a moan. She stroked him in a tight fist, matching the brutal pace Namor was setting.

“Then come,” she told him, her lips brushing his jaw, then the corner of his mouth. “Come for us, baby. Let us see you.”

Namor felt it before he saw it. Bucky’s body locked up all at once, every muscle seizing, his ass clenching around Namor’s cock so tight that Namor nearly came on the spot. Bucky’s orgasm tore through him with a hoarse shout, his whole body convulsing as he spilled over Shuri’s fingers in thick, heavy pulses that kept coming and coming.

She stroked him through every wave, her hand milking him until his body had nothing left to give. She was whispering something in his ear that Namor couldn’t hear, her lips moving against his skin, private words meant just for him.

The clenching around his cock was too much. The sounds Bucky was making, the sight of him falling apart, Shuri’s hand covered in his come, all of it crashed over Namor at once and his rhythm shattered. His thrusts went erratic, that white-hot pressure at the base of his spine building until it was the only thing left in his body.

He pulled out at the last second. Barely made it. His cock slipped free and he wrapped his hand around himself, stroking hard and fast, two pumps, three, and then he was coming with a groan that scraped his throat raw. His cock pulsing in his fist as thick ropes of come landed across Bucky’s lower back, his ass, painting his flushed skin.

For a long moment, nobody moved.

Namor’s hand was still loosely wrapped around his cock, his arm barely working. His thighs were shaking. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and dropped onto Bucky’s back, mixing with everything else already there.

Bucky’s arms finally gave out and he collapsed face-first into the mattress with a groan, completely boneless, his body flushed pink from the nape of his neck all the way down to his tailbone. He turned his face to the side to breathe, eyes closed, looking like a man who’d been taken apart and hadn’t figured out how to put himself back together yet.

Namor fell sideways, landing on his back next to Bucky with a heavy exhale. The ceiling fan was spinning overhead, lazy circles, and he stared at it while he waited for his brain to come back online.

It was taking its time.

The quiet stretched out. Three sets of lungs working overtime.

Then Shuri’s voice, very clear and very serious: “I need one of you to do something about this situation I’m in or I am going to lose my mind.”

Namor turned his head. She was kneeling beside them, her dress still rucked up around her waist, her inner thighs slick, her fingers wet and trembling, and the look on her face was absolutely feral.

She’d been edging herself for what felt like an hour, watching them, touching herself just enough to stay right on the brink, and now she was vibrating with it.

He was exhausted. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been wrung out and hung to dry. But Shuri was looking at him like that, and there were certain things a man just didn’t say no to.

He swallowed. Licked his lips. Tasted salt.

“Come here.”

She swung her leg over him and settled on his face, her knees framing his head, and Namor’s hands found her thighs on instinct, his fingers gripping the soft skin as he pulled her down onto his mouth.

She was drenched.

Absolutely soaking, her arousal flooding his senses the moment his tongue touched her, and he groaned against her because she tasted like heaven and he was starving.

He pushed his tongue inside her first, deep, feeling her clench around it, then dragged it up to her clit in a long, flat stroke that made her entire body jolt.

Shuri grabbed the headboard with both hands and ground down against his face.

“Oh god.” Her voice cracked on the words. “Oh fuck, right there. Right there, don’t move.”

She’d been so close for so long that it wasn’t going to take much. He could feel it in the way her thighs were already shaking around his ears, the way her hips jerked against his mouth in sharp, uncoordinated movements, chasing every stroke of his tongue with a desperation that made his spent cock twitch.

He sucked her clit between his lips, flicked it with the tip of his tongue, then pressed the flat of it against her and held steady, letting her ride his face. Her hips fell into those grinding circles he knew so well, the ones that meant she was right on the edge, teetering.

“Yes,” she panted above him. “Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He had absolutely no intention of stopping.

Next to them, Bucky stirred. He rolled onto his side, still completely wrecked, still breathing hard, and watched through heavy-lidded eyes. After a moment, he reached out and laid his hand on Shuri’s thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles against her skin.

That was what did it.

Shuri came with a cry that rang off every wall in the room, her thighs clamping tight around Namor’s head, her back arching hard. She shook apart above him, her hands white-knuckled on the headboard as her hips ground down against his mouth.

Namor held her in place and kept his tongue moving, working her through it until she was gasping and pushing at his head because it was too much, too sensitive, her body couldn’t take any more.

She rolled off him gracelessly, collapsing in the narrow strip of mattress between them, and just lay there.

All three of them were staring at nothing.

The sheets were destroyed. The room smelled like sweat and sex and the ghost of alcohol from abandoned glasses . The ceiling fan turned in its slow, hypnotic circles overhead.

Nobody spoke for a long time. There wasn’t anything to say that the silence wasn’t already saying better.

Namor’s heartbeat gradually returned to something resembling human.

Beside him, Shuri’s breathing evened out into long, deep pulls of air.

Bucky hadn’t moved except to settle onto his back, one arm folded behind his head, his dog tags glinting against his chest.

Then Bucky reached down toward the foot of the bed, grabbed the duvet that had been kicked off at some point during the night’s events, and pulled it up.

Over himself first.

Then over Shuri in the middle.

Then over Namor on the far side.

Shuri made a small, contented sound and burrowed into the warmth. One of her hands settled on Bucky’s chest, right over his heart. One of her feet found Namor’s ankle under the covers and hooked around it.

The fan turned.

“So,” Bucky said, because the silence was getting thick and someone had to crack it. “That Mexican food is definitely cold by now.”

Shuri’s laugh came out muffled against his shoulder.

Namor snorted. “I could eat.”

“I bet you could,” Bucky retorted, and the double meaning hung in the air for exactly one beat before Shuri kicked him under the covers.

But she was smiling.

All three of them were.

fin.