AN: And this is why I shouldn't write smut. Apologies, my lovelies, I hope I haven't done too terrible a job!


Three rounds into Truth-or-Dare Black Jack, Darcy dares Bucky and Steve to let her pluck their eyebrows.

"You know there's no way out of this, right?" She drags Steve gleefully down the hallway to her room, Bucky trailing behind. "You wimp out on this tiny bit of man-scaping and I'll never let you forget it, I don't care how many supervillians you slay."

They both look about as impressed as if she'd told them she's going to dress them in drag and put the photos on the internet, though by now it would seem Bucky's twigged that this is all part of the plan and is keeping his protestations minimal.

"Sit here," she instructs Steve, giving him a gentle push backwards until he's perched on the edge of her cluttered dressing table.

"You cleaned your room," says Steve, with the genuine surprise of someone who'd given up all hope.

She glances around as Bucky sits down on the bed. There's still a small pile of cushions, books and unsorted mail in one corner, but she shoved most of the stuff that was on the floor into the closet that morning. The pieces of mismatched furniture are free of the articles of dirty clothing that usually adorn them, and the bed is freshly made with clean sheets, the purple quilt pulled up neatly to the level of the pillows.

"Um, yeah, sort of," she says, rummaging around in the sea of make-up and jewellery that still swamps her dressing table. She finally locates the tweezers behind a row of perfume bottles. She fishes them out from their hiding place and turns to Steve.

He's sitting there, waiting patiently for her, somehow still outrageously beautiful in just a soft grey tshirt and black sweat pants. She usually treats Steve's obscenely good looks in the same way she would a movie star's, or the lead singer of a band. She lusts from a distance, safe in the knowledge that it will never amount to anything. For one thing, she'd never do that to Bucky, but it's not like she could picture Steve ever making a move on her anyway.

There are other times when she just has to compartmentalise, to think of him as her friend and nothing else, because she'd never be able to sit though a foot massage from him without falling to pieces if she didn't have a way of distancing herself from his hotness. But neither of those mental barriers are necessary tonight, and her heart rate starts to climb as she lets the full force of her attraction rise to the surface.

It's the broad shoulders that really do her in, and the way his chest tapers to that narrow waist. She saw him walk out of the bathroom in just a towel once, and it nearly made her swoon like a Victorian heroine. He smells faintly of soap right now, actually, with a slight hint of fabric softener from his clean clothes.

He's so close and so real, and if he's willing, she's about to have the chance to act on the feelings she usually keeps such a tight, heavy lid on. If he's not, though, he could be about to get majorly offended by what she and Bucky are proposing.

Darcy pinches the tweezers together in her hand a few times, listening to the muted tap of metal on metal. Things are either about to go really well, or really, really badly. She mentally crosses all her fingers as she moves to stand between Steve's parted knees. It's like the air around him is charged with static electricity, the way her skin tingles the closer she gets. She hasn't even touched him yet, but she has an urge to, as if to earth the charge.

In this position, she's slightly taller than him. Steve's hair, now level with her line of sight, is just starting to fall forward over his forehead. She prefers it that way, rather than perfectly slicked down. She hooks a finger under his chin and gently tips his head up, then smooths the pad of her thumb across one blonde eyebrow as if contemplating where to start, although she has no intention of plucking a single hair.

His eyelids flutter closed for a moment, drawing her attention to their fringe of dark lashes. His leg shifts slightly. The inside of his thigh brushes the outside of hers, and the tiniest shiver passes through her body, like a shockwave emanating from that one point of contact. Steve's startlingly blue eyes open again and there's something magnetic in them that holds her in place and keeps her from moving, from thinking.

She's not sure when she stopped breathing normally, but when she flicks her eyes down to his chest, she sees that it's rising and falling with shallow breaths that mirror her own. She returns her gaze to his eyes just a moment before they slide back up from looking at her own chest. She can imagine what he saw, cleavage hitching slightly with each breath, and can hardly blame him for staring. The moment is stretching out, becoming too long to be explained away by anything other than lust. She has no idea what's prompting him to react this way to her, of all people, but it's useful to her cause so she doesn't dwell.

She figures it's now or never, and drops the tweezers back onto the table with a light clatter.

"Actually, I have a better idea," she murmurs, and seals her lips over his. She keeps the kiss simple, just a press of lips on lips. His hand moves reflexively to her shoulder and she waits to see if he'll push her away, but he doesn't.

After a long moment, she pulls back to find the familiar Rogers brow furrow fighting for pride of place against eyebrows that want to climb upwards with surprise.

His hand drops away from her as he looks over her shoulder at Bucky. She can't see what passes between them, but as the seconds tick by, his confusion dissolves into understanding.

His eyes go back and forth between the two of them. "You want to... the three of us?" Incredulous is the only way to describe his tone.

Darcy doesn't say anything, just worries her lip with her teeth, figuring the lack of denial is answer enough, and Bucky seems to think the same. She watches Steve carefully, steeling herself for the look of hurt or anger or disgust she probably deserves for trying to manipulate him into doing this, but it never comes. Initially her plan had been to just dive in and try to overwhelm his body before his mind had a chance to catch up, but she feels like now might be a good time for some words of reassurance.

"Steve?" she says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder as his gaze returns to her. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," she glances back at Bucky, to indicate that she speaks for him too, "and we can stop anytime, you just say the word. But if we do this, no denying yourself the things you really want, okay?"

The pulse in her throat counts out the silent seconds that follow. Steve's eyes cloud over and it's like she can see the wheels turning in his head, only she has absolutely no clue which direction they're headed in. She's already envisioned about nine different things he might say next, all of them either unpleasant or unrealistic, when finally, his eyes focus on her again.

He nods.

"Okay," Darcy says, with a zen calm she doesn't feel, and before she can think about what should come next, his mouth is on hers again. The hand that's still on his shoulder slides up to the side of his neck before she even realises what she's doing.

She can't begin to imagine what America's golden boy is telling himself to justify this sort of debauchery, but clearly he has some kind of rationale, and now that his mind is made up he's not holding back. Darcy would have expected him to be the go slow type, but it occurs to her now, with his warm, wet mouth on hers, that all the 'going slow' has already been done.

Although there was never any intention that it would lead to this, for months now, every day has been punctuated with little touches. A hand on the small of her back, a touch on his arm, a kiss on the cheek, a hug. He rubs the knots out of her shoulders, she falls asleep with her head in his lap. She already knows the smell of his skin, the texture of his hair, the feel of the soft-hard planes and curves of his muscles though his shirt.

His hands find her hips, and his tongue is already nudging at her lips. She parts them readily, resisting the urge to press her whole body up against him as his tongue slides against hers, and the idea of going any slower is already laughable.

She stretches out an arm, reaching for Bucky, and within moments his solid presence is behind her. She's not really sure what she expects him to do while Steve has possession of her mouth, but he simply sweeps her hair out of the way and begins kissing the side of her neck. She keeps one arm curved behind her, hand on the side of Bucky's thigh. The flood of sensations, on top of her sheer disbelief that this is actually happening, is making it difficult to take in all the details.

Steve's fingers flex on her hips as he explores Darcy's mouth, and this is a fantasy come to life in itself, being so thoroughly kissed by Steve Rogers. Bucky skims his hands lightly down her sides until they come to rest on top of Steve's, and at that moment Steve's lips falters against Darcy's. He stands up abruptly, pulling his hands away, and Darcy's heart plummets.

That's it then, they were wrong. He's not ready.

She waits for him to say something, or to simply walk out of the room, but instead he just pulls his shirt off over his head and claims Darcy's mouth again. Darcy's heart starts beating again, twice as fast as before.

Not that they'd been dawdling, but Steve removing his shirt seems to act like a starter's pistol. She hears the soft rustle of Bucky stripping off his shirt behind her as Steve's hands slip under the hem of her top. Bucky's hands do the same from behind, and Darcy breaks off her kiss with Steve just long enough for Bucky to pull her top off over her head.

Bucky runs the flat of his palms down the bare skin of her back and drops a kiss on her shoulder. Even in the midst of everything else, it's a gentle, intimate kiss, and she's desperate to feel his lips on hers. She knows he would agree that Steve is the priority right now, though, and she trails her fingers down Steve's sculpted chest until she gets to the waistband of his pants. She pauses there, skimming her fingers out to his hip and back again, wondering if it's too soon to be dispensing with pants just yet. She hooks one finger inside the waistband experimentally, and Steve slides a warm hand up to cup her breast in response. That's all the encouragement she needs, and she pushes his sweats down so he can step out of them.

She reaches behind her for Bucky's hip and dips a couple of fingers beneath the waistband of his cargo pants, hoping he'll get the message, because she doesn't like her chances of being able to undo a fly that's behind her back. He doesn't need to be asked twice, and she hears the metallic sound of the zipper and feels the rustle against the back of her legs as his pants fall to the ground.

Bucky makes short work of her skirt, unzipping it at the back and dragging it down over her hips. His fingers glide up to the middle of her back, lightly running back and forth over the clasp of her bra, as if asking permission to unhook it. She answers by grinding her hips back against his, and is rewarded with the sound of a barely contained groan. With one quick movement, her bra is loose and falling forward over her shoulders. Steve moves his hand away to let it drop to the floor with the rest of their abandoned clothing. All three of them are down to their underwear, and she decides that's enough for now.

"Bed," Darcy instructs, grateful to discover she doesn't sound quite as breathless as she feels. She drags them both the few steps between the dressing table and the bed and pulls them down onto it with her, one either side.

As she lies back, Steve begins dropping kisses along her jaw. He nuzzles under her chin to trail more down her neck and she tips her head to the side to give him better access, which leaves her looking at Bucky.

Now that the mad rush to get everyone out of their clothes has been taken care of, things start to slow down a little. Bucky lies facing her, trailing his fingertips lightly up and down her arm.

His blue-grey eyes have depths she could get lost in. His gaze is lit with desire, the same way hers no doubt is, but there's something else there too. It gives her a warm feeling in her chest, and she supposes it's his gratitude. She wants to tell him that thanking her for this would be like paying her to take a bubble bath, but she knows better than to start talking at a time like this.

Bucky lifts a hand and smoothes his thumb gently across her cheek. The distance between their lips is only a few inches, but if Darcy moves to close the gap, she'll dislodge Steve from where he's working his lips and tongue along her collar bone, so she has to wait for Bucky to make the first move.

As hard as she's tried, she's never been able to completely let go of those first few weeks, when she and Bucky had flirted like crazy and she'd let herself tumble head first into a love she'd had no doubt was requited. When Bucky told her he was actually in love with Steve, she'd given an Oscar-winning performance, played it totally cool, like she'd never thought there was anything between her and Bucky anyway. But that night she'd taken the jar of nutella and a spoon into her room with her, and that weekend she'd slept with someone from work she probably shouldn't have, especially seeing as it didn't even help. She's over her crush on him now, of course, and what's happening here isn't about the two of them but, silly as it is, their first kiss still feels significant somehow.

This time, his thumb traces the shape of her bottom lip. "I've wanted to kiss these lips since the first day I met you."

It's a small compliment, really, she already knows she has a nice mouth, but hearing him say it sends a delicious shiver through her.

"Oh yeah? 'Cause you're taking your sweet-ass time about it," she says, and he chuckles, but apparently he still won't be rushed.

He runs his thumb tenderly across her cheek one more time. Then, finally, he kisses her. Where Steve's kisses were honest and raw, Bucky's are smooth and practiced. He's confident but gentle, teasing her with little flicks of his tongue and waiting until she can't bear the suspense any longer before finally dragging his tongue across her already parted lips and exploring inside her mouth.

He trails the back of his fingers down the outside curve of her breast, then takes the weight of it in his palm. At almost the same time, Steve's lips close over her other nipple, and she doesn't try to stop herself from gasping into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky is gently but thoroughly mapping the inside of her mouth with his tongue, and she could kiss him all day, but that's not what they're here for. With some effort, she pulls away.

"Steve," she murmurs, urging him back up the bed. "Kiss Bucky for me."

Bucky props himself up on one elbow. Steve copies him, though with a slight hesitation. They lock eyes over the top of Darcy, but they still don't move towards each other.

"For me, please," she says again, and she knows she's not strictly playing fair when she rubs her palm over the front of Steve's boxer briefs and the hard flesh within as she says it.

Their lips meet above her, and it's even more beautiful than her fantasies. A delicious tingling warmth travels deep within her. Steve's hand finds the back of Bucky's neck and Darcy's lip catches between her teeth as Bucky's hand latches onto Steve's hip and the kiss intensifies.

As much of a turn-on as it is to watch them, it also feels kind of strange to just stare at them while they share this intimate moment. Plus, there's still an edge of fear in the back of her mind that Steve may baulk at any moment, so she decides it's best for everyone if she stays busy.

Her hand is still cupped lightly over Steve, and she does the same to Bucky, palming both erections and sliding her fingers over the fabric. Steve presses against the gentle pressure, almost involuntarily. Bucky does too, but it's a smoother, more controlled movement. She rubs more firmly, rhythmically, causing Bucky to moan softly and Steve to flex his fingers in Bucky's hair.

She almost rolls her own hips just in response to how gorgeous they look, and even though she's desperate to get her hands on them properly, she waits a little longer before easing her fingers under one waistband and then the other. They're both hot and hard and Darcy has a moment of pure 'I can't believe this is actually happening' as she begins stroking both of them in unison.

Bucky's hand leaves Steve's hip and trails across her stomach. He slides his fingers down to the place where her underwear is getting damp, and Darcy can't quite stop herself from lifting her hips to push against the light pressure of his fingertips. But tonight isn't about her. She lets him do it twice more, sliding up and then down again over the fabric, shivers running deep within her each time, before taking his wrist and moving his hand back to Steve's hip.

She picks up the pace until their kiss actually starts to slow, as if they can't concentrate on both things at once, but their lips never actually part. It occurs to her that maybe each of them is imagining the other's hand instead of hers, but she'd like to see that too, so that's okay.

She keeps up a steady rhythm until she feels a spill of warmth over one hand, then the other. Bucky gives a quiet groan as he comes; Steve makes no sound at all. Finally, their lips break apart. Bucky slips a hand behind Steve's head and presses their foreheads together for a long moment. Then they both collapse back onto the bed, Steve's head on Darcy's chest, Bucky's forehead against her temple.

"Holy shit," Bucky breathes into her hair.

"I know, right?" she smiles, and Steve hums in agreement.

For a few minutes they all lie there in silence, catching their breath. Darcy's body is still buzzing with her own arousal, but as far as she's concerned the night has been a complete success, so it comes as a bit of a surprise when Steve starts nuzzling at her breast. She sucks in a tiny breath as his lips find her nipple, and Bucky lifts his head at the sound.

"What an excellent idea," Bucky murmurs. By the time he's trailed kisses all the way down to her other breast, Steve is already moving lower. He traces shapes with his fingertips on the skin below her bellybutton as he kisses her hip bone. She moans involuntarily at the sensation of two wet, warm mouths on her at once.

"You guys don't have to..." she starts to say, though she has no idea why. She doesn't manage to finish the sentence anyway, because she's too distracted by Bucky's thumb and forefinger teasing her other nipple.

Steve settles between her legs. "No denying yourself the things you really want," Steve says, kissing the inside of her thigh.

A breathy laugh escapes her. "Now, how can I argue with that?" She closes her eyes and stops trying to keep track of who exactly is doing what, and loses herself in a sea of sensations.