That night, in the luxurious Four Seasons in Budapest, Steve, Sherlock, John, and Bucky all laid on their backs on the soft bed, enjoying the cool breeze wafting through the open balcony door that caressed their sweaty bodies, all modesty covered underneath the sheets and comforter.

John and Bucky were panting, and Steve, though not as exhausted, was clearly breathing heavily in between his laughter.

Sherlock just stared blankly at the ceiling ahead, without a word and with glazed eyes and a slack expression of disbelief.

Uncharacteristically giggling, Steve asked, "Did we just…fondue for four hours straight?"

Bucky smirked, exasperated, as he emphasized, "Sex, Steve. You can say it."

John numbly commented, "Every muscle in my body hurts. Why am I still smiling?"

Warmly, Bucky used his non-bionic arm to bring John closer to his sore body, cuddling the doctor to his side. Bucky then kissed the top of the blond, matted curls before commenting.

"If anything, I should be the one smiling. I never imagined you were that good with your fingers."

"I am a doctor, Sergeant Barnes. I know how to probe a prostrate. Although my thighs are kind of raw right now…"

"Sorry. Maybe I should shave…" Steve apologized.

The answer was automatic from John and Bucky.

"Steve, no."

"Like Hell. You look good in a beard. Can't get more American than that..."

Sherlock just remained listless and catatonic, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

John then commented, "My lips still hurt too."

"Want us to kiss it and make it all better?" sneered Bucky with a naughty grin.

"I've received enough kisses from you, Barnes. Go kiss your husband," John growled playfully, though he allowed Bucky to whimper with puppy dog eyes.

"Yeah, Buck. Go and kiss me. I'm not sore at all," Steve bragged with a wide grin.

"Pretty sure I left bite marks, you liar…" John pointed out.

"We all did," Bucky added, "Although the Crapsack spent more time than I would have liked."

"They healed up after you and John both topped me."

"Bastard," John said without malice.

"Not all of us have a Super-Soldier Serum, Rogers," chimed in Bucky.

"Hey, I still enjoyed the worship session," Steve said as he used his extended arm and hand to casually and softly brush against the hair on John's temple, "I had to admit I was surprised at the size of your – er, you know. Is that why they call you 'Three Continents Watson'?"

John said slyly, "…among other reasons."

"Hey, John may have made you groan, but I made you scream," Bucky jumped in.

"So did Sherlock. If John has magical fingers, Sherlock has…"

Steve couldn't finish the sentence as he shuddered in delight of the memories of Sherlock brushing his lips and tongue against each and every part of his body, murmuring huskily the anatomical body part in between licks. Steve was already feeling hard again.

Bucky laughed at the reminiscence.

"Can't blame him for being eager."

John admitted, "He did take Steve like a champ. I was amazed how he didn't ask to stop midway. It was too painful for me at first."

Steve chuckled as he buried his nose against Sherlock's neck, "Don't worry, Sherlock. There wasn't any bleeding, and Bucky made sure to apply a lot of lube, so you're good. Right?"

Sherlock didn't answer back as he laid against Steve's bicep as a pillow, and the silence was rather unsettling.

John raised his head a bit in concern as he asked, "Sherlock. Love. You're awfully quiet. Everything all right?"

Sherlock just numbly stared on.

For once, Bucky showed some actual discomfort at Sherlock's well being as he propped himself with one arm.

"Crapsack?"

Steve rubbed Sherlock's chest soothingly, "Sherlock, you OK? Do you need anything?"

Finally, the Consulting Detective then dazedly spoke, his voice hoarse after hours of moans and fellatio.

"You broke my Mind Palace."

There was a pause. And Steve, Bucky, and John all collectively blinked before they asked in unison.

"Huh?"

With a dry mouth, Sherlock repeated dully, "You broke my Mind Palace. All three of you have literally buggered my brains out. My mind is a complete blank..."

There was a contemplative pause before John beamed, his face lighting up.

"Bloody Hell, we were good!"

Bucky rubbed his face with his bionic hand, murmuring, "Shit. I owe Natasha five hundred bucks now."

"You're lucky," Steve commented, "I owe Fury a thousand."