MCU: "Satin" (Peggy/Bucky/Steve, NC17)
Aug. 5th, 2014 08:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fannishlisstitle: Satin
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fannishliss
pairing: Peggy Carter/Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
rating: Explicit, NC17
spoilers/warnings: none
words: 3965
summary: Peggy and Bucky are alone together, being easy and complicated, and then Steve comes home and everything is even more perfect.
===
The slow clopping of a horse's hooves rattled down the early morning street, the milk man making his rounds.
Peggy opened one eye to see Bucky beside a cracked window, blowing smoke into the cool spring air.
"Good morning, Bucky," she murmured.
"Morning, doll," Bucky smiled. Perhaps he'd slept a few hours. A trace of tension remained around his eyes, but he still looked good in the early morning light.
Peggy sat up in surprise when she realized what Bucky was wearing.
"Bucky! That's my peignoir!"
"Yeah?" Bucky smiled. "I got cold." As if the thin satin provided any warmth.
"Couldn't you find one of Philip's robes?" Her brother had several wardrobes full of immaculate civilian clothes. Peggy hoped they would still be in style when he returned.
Bucky fingered one edge of the peignoir. Peggy was wearing the matching nightgown, and had thrown the peignoir over the chair when she went to bed. The fabric was china blue, smooth satin, with fine black lace around the hems, beautiful silk from before the war.
"Terry cloth is great and all," Bucky said, "but who'd go for that when they could be wearing satin?" Bucky smoothed the fabric lightly down over his torso. The feminine garment threw an unexpectedly alluring glamour over his strong, masculine body.
"Well, I can't say it doesn't suit you," Peggy said. Both Peggy and Bucky were dark-haired, with pale skin and rosy lips. The same rich blue that set off Peggy's Snow White look, flattered Bucky just as nicely.
Bucky finished his cigarette, but left the window open. He stood up and twirled around a little, holding the robe closed with his hands. It was a loose garment and fit Bucky fine, except in length; the wide sleeves were a little short on his arms, and the hem hit him just at the knee when it would have swept around Peggy's ankles.
"You think it suits me?" Bucky asked.
"You look gorgeous, as always, Sergeant Barnes," Peggy flirted. A thousand girls before her must have complimented her handsome and charismatic lover, but when she said something nice to him, it made him glow a little more. Peggy was proud to be in a more select crowd, the lucky few who'd seen Bucky in a satin peignoir and a smile.
"What's a guy gotta do to get a cup of coffee around here?" Bucky asked, deflecting the compliment.
"Learn to use the percolator," Peggy retorted.
"Hmph," Bucky said, and swept through the swinging door into the tiny galley kitchen.
He emerged not long afterwards with coffee and toast for two. Neither of them was much of a cook - Bucky, because he'd never had the chance to work with much more than very basic ingredients, and Peggy, because such things when she was growing up had been the province of the household cook.
What would Philip think, what would Mama and Papa think, or Grandmother, if they could see her now, sitting on Philip's settee in dishabille, eating toast and drinking coffee with a brash American soldier?
One day soon, Peggy hoped, they'd meet Steve as her fiancé. How would she introduce them to Bucky, Steve's best man, whom they both adored?
Peggy tried not to worry about it. Her family were progressive. They'd given her an education almost equal to Philip's and taught her never to settle for anything less just because she was a woman. She had taken that lesson to heart; she'd learned to fight for what she believed and never to back down. She would manage the appearance of propriety while making sure they all got what they really wanted.
"Isn't it wonderful, to have a day off, just to be together?" Peggy sighed.
"Sure thing, doll," Bucky said. "Now if Steve would just get back in one piece from Paris, we could really celebrate."
Steve had been sent undercover into occupied France to scout for Hydra bases. Peggy and Bucky were both desperate to back him up, but that sort of thing was a one man job. At least, because of his serum-enhanced memory, he spoke both French and German perfectly, so he was unlikely to be detected.
Bucky switched on the wireless and they listened for a while -- news from the front interspersed with music. Peggy had commandeered Philip's writing desk as a dressing table, and Bucky sauntered over to it, picking up her boar-bristle brush, running it through his chestnut locks, which were getting a little long for regulation.
"You're lovely, as I already mentioned," Peggy assured him.
"One must always keep up one's appearance," Bucky said with a high-pitched fake accent. He batted his eyes and made a moue at Peggy in the mirror she'd set up on Philip's desk.
"Well then," Peggy said. "Perhaps I could give you a few helpful hints."
"Oh?" Bucky simpered, trying hard to keep his grin under control.
"I see you haven't mastered the basics of cosmetics, Becky," Peggy said.
"sh! no!" Bucky protested in a hiss. "Becky's my little sister!"
"Gemma," Peggy smoothly said, "you have a beautiful complexion, but every girl should learn to accentuate her best features."
"Oh?" Bucky said, in a soft, questioning voice. "What are my best features?"
"Why, your lips of course," Peggy said honestly. "Your stunning eyes. Your thick chestnut hair. The fine bone structure of your face."
"Show me," Bucky asked.
Peggy raised her brows. Bucky shrugged, but gave her a look that said why not? So Peggy pulled up a chair to the desk, opened the drawer and took out her little bag of cosmetics.
"First, powder, for a smooth, even look." She took her powder puff and lightly dusted Bucky's face, and then her own, showing how the powder evened out her complexion.
"Next, a bit of shadow for the eyes. Mine is brown," she said.
Bucky just closed his eyes and let her apply the shadow.
"And eyeliner -- just a bit -- and mascara." Bucky sat still and unflinching, relaxing his face as Peggy worked near his eyes.
"A bit of rouge." Peggy touched her finger to the rouge and rubbed it very lightly into Bucky's cheeks, just about where she'd seen him blush. He looked amazing, his handsome features delicately enhanced by the touches of color.
"Last -- the lipstick." Lipstick was always the finishing touch: glorious, unabashed red. It was almost a shame to alter the color of Bucky's perfect lips, but Peggy applied it to herself and then to her lover, just to see what the two of them would look like side by side.
Looking in the mirror, Peggy was reminded of a Japanese print. The beautiful silk dressing gown Bucky had commandeered was vaguely reminiscent of a kimono, and with their dark hair and red lips, Peggy and Bucky shared a heightened, erotic look that fascinated Peggy.
"Look at us," she whispered.
"Yeah," Bucky said. "What would Steve say, do you think?"
"I don't know," Peggy said, "but I think -- he might like it."
"You never know with Steve," Bucky said. "Sometimes, he won't shut up, and then other times, you gotta pry it out of him."
Peggy nodded, distracted. The beautiful silk accentuated the line of Bucky's shoulder, and she couldn't help but lift her hand to stroke the smooth fabric and the toned muscles underneath. Bucky sighed, relaxing into her touch. She took his hand and led him back to bed, laying him back against the pillows. She ran her hands down his sides and they both reveled in the silky feel.
Peggy stared down at Bucky -- his already striking features were mesmerizing with the light touches of color Peggy had applied. His red lips pulled her in, even softer than they looked. Peggy couldn't help but compare Bucky to Steve. Steve made her feel competitive, as though he prompted her to live to the highest possible standard. Peggy respected Steve immensely and was determined to deserve his admiration. Bucky was more sensual, taking the time to seize every moment, to savor even the most mundane occasion to the fullest. Kissing Steve was a chance to show off, while kissing Bucky was a chance to lose herself in his warmth and skill. Steve had always been assertive, otherwise he would have been overlooked, while Bucky was more self-effacing than one might expect. Bucky was a smart and talented man, but he played himself down. Peggy hoped that one day she might see that habit begin to fade.
Bucky and Peggy kissed lazily, stroking each other through the satin, until things got a little more heated. Peggy slid down the bed and kissed Bucky's prick, holding his hips and swallowing him down. Bucky moaned, trying not to thrust, and threaded his careful fingers through her hair.
Peggy felt almost like she was in a dream, like she could stay there, suckling gently at Bucky as the sun rose slowly in the sky and the day began outside the open window. Bucky's moans drifted softly into her ears and she felt no desire to be anywhere other than right where she was.
Bucky patted her hair a little more desperately, but Peggy held on to his satin clad hips and opened her throat as much as she could. She relished the bitter taste as he came, groaning her name through red-stained lips, and she swallowed him down, so glad he was part of her, all his beauty heightened by that secret thread of bitterness.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside the flat. Bucky stirred, gripping her shoulder.
"It's Steve," he said, sounding certain. A key slid into the lock, and Peggy slid up to lie beside Bucky on the pillows.
"Should we go out to him?" she asked.
"No," Bucky grinned, "let's look busy," he said, taking Peggy in his arms and kissing her sweetly.
Steve let himself in and locked the door behind him, dropping his hat and jacket in the living room, and kicking off his boots.
He paused in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at the two dark-haired beauties in their matching blue satin, cuddling amidst the rumpled sheets.
"The two of you knock me out!" Steve said, his eyes wide and earnest.
"We were hoping you might like it," Peggy said.
"Do you?" Bucky asked, batting his mascara'd lashes just a little.
"You're so perfect, the both of you. It makes me afraid I'll mess you up," he said.
"Do your worst, pal," Bucky said, and pulled Steve down for a thorough, welcome-home kiss. When Steve finally drew back for breath, his lips were stained with Peggy's red lipstick and Bucky's mouth was slightly smeared.
"My turn," Peggy said, and offered her own lips to Steve, who kissed her sweetly until his stomach rumbled.
They broke apart, laughing.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I came straight here after debriefing, and I could eat a horse."
"Sorry, in Britain we don't serve horse!" Bucky said playfully.
"I'll make you something," Peggy said.
"I had to fix my own," Bucky reported to Steve.
"Poor thing," Peggy sympathized.
"How does her lipstick stay perfect when mine got smeared so fast?" Bucky wondered, checking the mirror as Peggy went into the kitchen.
By the time Peggy returned with Steve's breakfast, Bucky had turned on the wireless, and they were sitting close together on the settee in the front room listening to music, Steve cradled in Bucky's arms, as Peggy knew they'd often done when Steve was much smaller. Somehow they still managed it.
"So you didn't get into a single scrape?" Bucky said skeptically.
"Not as such," Steve said.
"Not as such!" Bucky mocked, waggling his eyebrows at Peggy.
"I'm here, right? It wasn't too bad," Steve asserted.
Peggy had made beans on toast with a little cheddar on top and two fried eggs.
Bucky made mournful eyes when he saw what Peggy had cooked.
"It's part of my official assignment, to make sure Steve is well fed," Peggy said primly.
"Ma'am, yes ma'am," Bucky said.
Steve snapped up the food in no time and chased the last bean around his plate with his toast. Peggy said not a word about manners, knowing that their habits had been deeply affected by the poverty they'd survived.
"Mmm, beans on toast," Steve said.
"We never ate that at home," Bucky told Peggy.
"Why ever not?" Peggy asked.
"I don't know," Bucky said. "In America we like to try a little bit of everything, but beans on toast isn't something you see." Peggy knew he kept a tally of all the things that were different from home, as though he were counting the seconds till his next real Coney Island hot dog.
"Don't let Bucky fool you," Steve said. "If someone had given us beans on toast, we would have eaten it. We practically lived on cabbage and potatoes and maybe a hambone when we could get one."
"It wasn't that bad," Bucky said.
"It wasn't always that bad," Steve amended. "But we stuck together, and somehow we made it."
"Stick with me," Peggy said. "You won't live like kings, but I can promise you won't be reduced to cabbage and potatoes."
"It's a deal," Steve said fervently and kissed her to seal it.
Bucky looked on, a little morose.
"Kiss!" Steve demanded.
Bucky held back, a little frown troubling his face. "How is this really -- this can't -- you can't really believe--"
"It is," Peggy insisted. "It can. I do really believe. If Steve and I marry, and you stick around, no one will think a thing about it. This type of situation is -- if not common -- at least something people will not go out of their way to gossip about -- as long as you make a proper show sometimes of going out with ladies."
"I guess I can sometimes go out with ladies," Bucky sulked, while Steve and Peggy chuckled.
"You're such a great dancer, Bucky -- you owe it to the world to go out dancing as much as you can."
Bucky nodded, but still looked a bit glum. Peggy's heart went out to him.
"Perhaps -- perhaps we should speak more plainly," Peggy suggested.
"What do you mean?" Steve asked.
"This arrangement of ours," Peggy said. "I know you two are in love, and have been for a very long time. My 'engagement' with Steve was meant, at first, to protect the two of you. But. If." Peggy wasn't used to being hesitant about what she was trying to say, but this felt so important it was difficult to get out. "If. If you really want to go through with it -- for us to marry someday -- I'd like it very much if you'd plainly say so."
"Peggy -- you're my best girl!" Steve exclaimed. "I do want to go through with it!"
Bucky interrupted. "He's gonna marry you, doll, if I have anything to say about it. And if he doesn't -- or -- or can't-- I will. If you'll have me."
The thought of losing Steve made Peggy ache, while at the same time, Bucky's noble sentiments warmed her to her core.
"Bucky, it would be my honor to be yours. If only --"
The three lovers allowed themselves to dream, just for a moment, of a day when the war was over, when the three of them could be happy together. How lovely that day would be!
"I have an idea," Steve said.
"Oh no. Peggy, look out. That tone, that light in his eye, it never bodes well," Bucky warned.
Steve got down on his knee, and taking Bucky's hand, said, "Bucky, if you could, would you marry me?"
Bucky couldn't speak for a moment, then he choked out, "Yes, of course, punk!"
Steve kept Bucky's hand in his left hand, then took Peggy's and said, "Peggy, someday, will you marry me?"
"Yes," Peggy said, tears welling up in her eyes. She was certainly not prone to crying, but she supposed there was a time and place for everything.
Steve squeezed Bucky's hand and rolled his eyes toward Peggy meaningfully, pulling Bucky unsubtly down beside him.
"Oh! Yeah!" Bucky said, on his knees. "Peggy, I pledge thee my troth -- okay?"
Peggy's eyes flew wide at Bucky's lovely, old-fashioned phrase. "Yes!" she cried. "Oh, I never expected to be swept off my feet by two best friends!"
"You want us to sweep you off your feet?" Bucky said, in a rich, low tone.
"We could do that," Steve said casually.
Peggy felt strangely weak for a moment -- not as though she would be overpowered, but that she'd be perfectly safe to let her guard down and allow these two men to have their way with her.
"I'd like that, quite a lot," Peggy said.
They didn't sweep her up -- they drifted, as they often did, kissing and holding each other, every step a little closer to the bedroom until they were lying there, Bucky in a loose puddle of blue satin, Peggy's gown clinging sleek at the bodice and fanning out around her waist, and Steve in the middle, naked except for his shirt. They had dropped his clothes wherever they fell in a trail from the front room to the bed: they both thought it good fun making Steve feel messy.
Bucky held Steve close from behind, like he'd done so many nights of their lives, and he lifted the edge of the peignoir up and draped it over Steve, while Peggy cuddled her back against Steve's front.
"I had a blanket with a satin edge when I was kid," Steve said, running his hand down Peggy's side. "It was so smooth and silky and comforting when I was sick."
"You were always sick," Bucky said.
"I know. I think that blanket went away after the rheumatic fever."
"That's so sad," Peggy said.
"It's no fun being poor," Bucky said.
"I'm sorry," Peggy answered. She imagined herself with Bucky weaving a satin dream for Steve, comforting him with luxury after his solo assignments, pampering him and giving him the sort of reward a true hero deserves.
Steve seemed to catch her vision. "With the two of you wearing these beautiful things, that silky smoothness is all around me."
"Whatever you need, that's what we'll be," Bucky swore.
Peggy thought of everything she had learned to become an agent -- how to shoot a gun, knock a man down, keep a straight face when a secret matters more than a life. To become an SSR agent she had to learn to be hard. To succeed she had to polish herself like brass. But here, in this bed, she could be more complicated. She could be smart and strong, skillful and soft. Bucky and Steve didn't make assumptions. They hadn't had all the time in the world -- there were still many things about them she didn't know, and things about her they were only guessing. But they wanted to learn. That made the difference for Peggy between this -- her commitment to these two men, her dreams of a future with them -- and the casual affairs she'd indulged in as a modern girl to learn her way through a man's world. Sex with a man was one more battle. But loving was something so much more.
Steve's lips at her neck, his groans as Bucky's clever fingers opened him up, the sighs she couldn't help breathing out as he toyed with her nipples through her smooth satin gown -- Peggy had learned these sorts of things as means to an end, but now they glowed in her mind like priceless treasures. When Steve's questing hand sought her pleasure between her legs, he had no ulterior motive -- he loved her and wanted to give her something good. There was a kind of generosity in having two lovers that Peggy had never suspected. While Bucky was teasing Steve, working him over, bringing him just to the edge, Steve had no reason to touch Peggy so sweetly except that he wanted to. Peggy only had to let go, to say yes, to moan Steve's name when he touched her the way she liked best.
Steve let out a hiss and a moan Peggy knew -- that was Bucky easing inside him, and sure enough, Bucky's easy thrusting rocked Steve against Peggy, like waves on a river bank.
"Come inside me, Steve," Peggy whispered. The long blue folds of satin were hiked around her waist, and she handed Steve a prophylactic from the bedside table -- God bless America for protecting her troops. Steve slipped inside her, all the way in one thrust, as wet as she was, and she pushed back against him, taking him so, so deep. She loved the angle, the feel of him hitting that mysterious place inside where everything felt so dark and intense, like a fire that burned but gave no light. Bucky pushed into Steve, and Steve pushed into Peggy, and she pushed back, and it was all one smooth, oceanic dance, swathed in china blue.
"Stevie, Steve, you're so perfect, oh god," Bucky was chanting. He could never keep quiet. Peggy moaned deep in her throat, letting herself be just a little vocal because she knew her men liked it. Steve kept silent unless they made him beg; he'd hidden his desire for Bucky for so long, and besides, he didn't trust his breathing.
This wasn't new any more for the three of them, but for Peggy it was better every time. She could feel Bucky's tension in the way Steve held her hip, Bucky's kisses in Steve's hungry mouth behind her ear. When she pushed back against Steve she could hear Bucky's moan.
"Peggy, doll, give it to us, baby. You're so hot, Steve's burning me. Oh, god, Steve, you feel so good." Bucky's rambling was interspersed with groans as he tried to hold himself back, but couldn't keep from burying himself inside Steve. They all knew how it went, and that just made it so much better.
It was Steve who was taking it from Bucky and giving it to Peggy, so it was no surprise he let go first. His breath caught in his throat as he choked back his cries, he bit his full lower lip, and tried not to pant in Peggy's ear, and then he was coming, hard and pulsing inside her, bearing down on Bucky.
"Oh, fuck," Bucky groaned, and he slammed into Steve, all the way home as he came. Peggy pulsed around Steve, his hardness filling her in all the right ways, his relentless hand never ceasing in its slow but steady stimulation.
"Come for us, Peggy," Steve whispered in her ear, and she lost it, bearing down hard on Steve's prick, his hand chasing against her, tipping her over into white-hot pleasure. She wouldn't scream -- she would not -- but gasping her way through orgasm made her lovers happy.
They lay still for a minute or two, then Peggy got up and went to the loo, and brought back a warm wet cloth so Bucky and Steve could clean up. None of Peggy's china blue satin was besmirched, thought Bucky did get a little red lipstick on the pillowcase. He only got prettier as the day wore on, as the makeup smeared and faded it enhanced his smoky good looks until Peggy thought he was like a dark angel, Steve's fallen counterpart.
They napped, cracked open novels, drank afternoon tea, danced in the front room, pulled the shades tight and laughed around the wireless, drinking gin martinis. They made the most of the time they had, never knowing when it would run out.
Author:
fannishlisspairing: Peggy Carter/Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
rating: Explicit, NC17
spoilers/warnings: none
words: 3965
summary: Peggy and Bucky are alone together, being easy and complicated, and then Steve comes home and everything is even more perfect.
===
The slow clopping of a horse's hooves rattled down the early morning street, the milk man making his rounds.
Peggy opened one eye to see Bucky beside a cracked window, blowing smoke into the cool spring air.
"Good morning, Bucky," she murmured.
"Morning, doll," Bucky smiled. Perhaps he'd slept a few hours. A trace of tension remained around his eyes, but he still looked good in the early morning light.
Peggy sat up in surprise when she realized what Bucky was wearing.
"Bucky! That's my peignoir!"
"Yeah?" Bucky smiled. "I got cold." As if the thin satin provided any warmth.
"Couldn't you find one of Philip's robes?" Her brother had several wardrobes full of immaculate civilian clothes. Peggy hoped they would still be in style when he returned.
Bucky fingered one edge of the peignoir. Peggy was wearing the matching nightgown, and had thrown the peignoir over the chair when she went to bed. The fabric was china blue, smooth satin, with fine black lace around the hems, beautiful silk from before the war.
"Terry cloth is great and all," Bucky said, "but who'd go for that when they could be wearing satin?" Bucky smoothed the fabric lightly down over his torso. The feminine garment threw an unexpectedly alluring glamour over his strong, masculine body.
"Well, I can't say it doesn't suit you," Peggy said. Both Peggy and Bucky were dark-haired, with pale skin and rosy lips. The same rich blue that set off Peggy's Snow White look, flattered Bucky just as nicely.
Bucky finished his cigarette, but left the window open. He stood up and twirled around a little, holding the robe closed with his hands. It was a loose garment and fit Bucky fine, except in length; the wide sleeves were a little short on his arms, and the hem hit him just at the knee when it would have swept around Peggy's ankles.
"You think it suits me?" Bucky asked.
"You look gorgeous, as always, Sergeant Barnes," Peggy flirted. A thousand girls before her must have complimented her handsome and charismatic lover, but when she said something nice to him, it made him glow a little more. Peggy was proud to be in a more select crowd, the lucky few who'd seen Bucky in a satin peignoir and a smile.
"What's a guy gotta do to get a cup of coffee around here?" Bucky asked, deflecting the compliment.
"Learn to use the percolator," Peggy retorted.
"Hmph," Bucky said, and swept through the swinging door into the tiny galley kitchen.
He emerged not long afterwards with coffee and toast for two. Neither of them was much of a cook - Bucky, because he'd never had the chance to work with much more than very basic ingredients, and Peggy, because such things when she was growing up had been the province of the household cook.
What would Philip think, what would Mama and Papa think, or Grandmother, if they could see her now, sitting on Philip's settee in dishabille, eating toast and drinking coffee with a brash American soldier?
One day soon, Peggy hoped, they'd meet Steve as her fiancé. How would she introduce them to Bucky, Steve's best man, whom they both adored?
Peggy tried not to worry about it. Her family were progressive. They'd given her an education almost equal to Philip's and taught her never to settle for anything less just because she was a woman. She had taken that lesson to heart; she'd learned to fight for what she believed and never to back down. She would manage the appearance of propriety while making sure they all got what they really wanted.
"Isn't it wonderful, to have a day off, just to be together?" Peggy sighed.
"Sure thing, doll," Bucky said. "Now if Steve would just get back in one piece from Paris, we could really celebrate."
Steve had been sent undercover into occupied France to scout for Hydra bases. Peggy and Bucky were both desperate to back him up, but that sort of thing was a one man job. At least, because of his serum-enhanced memory, he spoke both French and German perfectly, so he was unlikely to be detected.
Bucky switched on the wireless and they listened for a while -- news from the front interspersed with music. Peggy had commandeered Philip's writing desk as a dressing table, and Bucky sauntered over to it, picking up her boar-bristle brush, running it through his chestnut locks, which were getting a little long for regulation.
"You're lovely, as I already mentioned," Peggy assured him.
"One must always keep up one's appearance," Bucky said with a high-pitched fake accent. He batted his eyes and made a moue at Peggy in the mirror she'd set up on Philip's desk.
"Well then," Peggy said. "Perhaps I could give you a few helpful hints."
"Oh?" Bucky simpered, trying hard to keep his grin under control.
"I see you haven't mastered the basics of cosmetics, Becky," Peggy said.
"sh! no!" Bucky protested in a hiss. "Becky's my little sister!"
"Gemma," Peggy smoothly said, "you have a beautiful complexion, but every girl should learn to accentuate her best features."
"Oh?" Bucky said, in a soft, questioning voice. "What are my best features?"
"Why, your lips of course," Peggy said honestly. "Your stunning eyes. Your thick chestnut hair. The fine bone structure of your face."
"Show me," Bucky asked.
Peggy raised her brows. Bucky shrugged, but gave her a look that said why not? So Peggy pulled up a chair to the desk, opened the drawer and took out her little bag of cosmetics.
"First, powder, for a smooth, even look." She took her powder puff and lightly dusted Bucky's face, and then her own, showing how the powder evened out her complexion.
"Next, a bit of shadow for the eyes. Mine is brown," she said.
Bucky just closed his eyes and let her apply the shadow.
"And eyeliner -- just a bit -- and mascara." Bucky sat still and unflinching, relaxing his face as Peggy worked near his eyes.
"A bit of rouge." Peggy touched her finger to the rouge and rubbed it very lightly into Bucky's cheeks, just about where she'd seen him blush. He looked amazing, his handsome features delicately enhanced by the touches of color.
"Last -- the lipstick." Lipstick was always the finishing touch: glorious, unabashed red. It was almost a shame to alter the color of Bucky's perfect lips, but Peggy applied it to herself and then to her lover, just to see what the two of them would look like side by side.
Looking in the mirror, Peggy was reminded of a Japanese print. The beautiful silk dressing gown Bucky had commandeered was vaguely reminiscent of a kimono, and with their dark hair and red lips, Peggy and Bucky shared a heightened, erotic look that fascinated Peggy.
"Look at us," she whispered.
"Yeah," Bucky said. "What would Steve say, do you think?"
"I don't know," Peggy said, "but I think -- he might like it."
"You never know with Steve," Bucky said. "Sometimes, he won't shut up, and then other times, you gotta pry it out of him."
Peggy nodded, distracted. The beautiful silk accentuated the line of Bucky's shoulder, and she couldn't help but lift her hand to stroke the smooth fabric and the toned muscles underneath. Bucky sighed, relaxing into her touch. She took his hand and led him back to bed, laying him back against the pillows. She ran her hands down his sides and they both reveled in the silky feel.
Peggy stared down at Bucky -- his already striking features were mesmerizing with the light touches of color Peggy had applied. His red lips pulled her in, even softer than they looked. Peggy couldn't help but compare Bucky to Steve. Steve made her feel competitive, as though he prompted her to live to the highest possible standard. Peggy respected Steve immensely and was determined to deserve his admiration. Bucky was more sensual, taking the time to seize every moment, to savor even the most mundane occasion to the fullest. Kissing Steve was a chance to show off, while kissing Bucky was a chance to lose herself in his warmth and skill. Steve had always been assertive, otherwise he would have been overlooked, while Bucky was more self-effacing than one might expect. Bucky was a smart and talented man, but he played himself down. Peggy hoped that one day she might see that habit begin to fade.
Bucky and Peggy kissed lazily, stroking each other through the satin, until things got a little more heated. Peggy slid down the bed and kissed Bucky's prick, holding his hips and swallowing him down. Bucky moaned, trying not to thrust, and threaded his careful fingers through her hair.
Peggy felt almost like she was in a dream, like she could stay there, suckling gently at Bucky as the sun rose slowly in the sky and the day began outside the open window. Bucky's moans drifted softly into her ears and she felt no desire to be anywhere other than right where she was.
Bucky patted her hair a little more desperately, but Peggy held on to his satin clad hips and opened her throat as much as she could. She relished the bitter taste as he came, groaning her name through red-stained lips, and she swallowed him down, so glad he was part of her, all his beauty heightened by that secret thread of bitterness.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside the flat. Bucky stirred, gripping her shoulder.
"It's Steve," he said, sounding certain. A key slid into the lock, and Peggy slid up to lie beside Bucky on the pillows.
"Should we go out to him?" she asked.
"No," Bucky grinned, "let's look busy," he said, taking Peggy in his arms and kissing her sweetly.
Steve let himself in and locked the door behind him, dropping his hat and jacket in the living room, and kicking off his boots.
He paused in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at the two dark-haired beauties in their matching blue satin, cuddling amidst the rumpled sheets.
"The two of you knock me out!" Steve said, his eyes wide and earnest.
"We were hoping you might like it," Peggy said.
"Do you?" Bucky asked, batting his mascara'd lashes just a little.
"You're so perfect, the both of you. It makes me afraid I'll mess you up," he said.
"Do your worst, pal," Bucky said, and pulled Steve down for a thorough, welcome-home kiss. When Steve finally drew back for breath, his lips were stained with Peggy's red lipstick and Bucky's mouth was slightly smeared.
"My turn," Peggy said, and offered her own lips to Steve, who kissed her sweetly until his stomach rumbled.
They broke apart, laughing.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I came straight here after debriefing, and I could eat a horse."
"Sorry, in Britain we don't serve horse!" Bucky said playfully.
"I'll make you something," Peggy said.
"I had to fix my own," Bucky reported to Steve.
"Poor thing," Peggy sympathized.
"How does her lipstick stay perfect when mine got smeared so fast?" Bucky wondered, checking the mirror as Peggy went into the kitchen.
By the time Peggy returned with Steve's breakfast, Bucky had turned on the wireless, and they were sitting close together on the settee in the front room listening to music, Steve cradled in Bucky's arms, as Peggy knew they'd often done when Steve was much smaller. Somehow they still managed it.
"So you didn't get into a single scrape?" Bucky said skeptically.
"Not as such," Steve said.
"Not as such!" Bucky mocked, waggling his eyebrows at Peggy.
"I'm here, right? It wasn't too bad," Steve asserted.
Peggy had made beans on toast with a little cheddar on top and two fried eggs.
Bucky made mournful eyes when he saw what Peggy had cooked.
"It's part of my official assignment, to make sure Steve is well fed," Peggy said primly.
"Ma'am, yes ma'am," Bucky said.
Steve snapped up the food in no time and chased the last bean around his plate with his toast. Peggy said not a word about manners, knowing that their habits had been deeply affected by the poverty they'd survived.
"Mmm, beans on toast," Steve said.
"We never ate that at home," Bucky told Peggy.
"Why ever not?" Peggy asked.
"I don't know," Bucky said. "In America we like to try a little bit of everything, but beans on toast isn't something you see." Peggy knew he kept a tally of all the things that were different from home, as though he were counting the seconds till his next real Coney Island hot dog.
"Don't let Bucky fool you," Steve said. "If someone had given us beans on toast, we would have eaten it. We practically lived on cabbage and potatoes and maybe a hambone when we could get one."
"It wasn't that bad," Bucky said.
"It wasn't always that bad," Steve amended. "But we stuck together, and somehow we made it."
"Stick with me," Peggy said. "You won't live like kings, but I can promise you won't be reduced to cabbage and potatoes."
"It's a deal," Steve said fervently and kissed her to seal it.
Bucky looked on, a little morose.
"Kiss!" Steve demanded.
Bucky held back, a little frown troubling his face. "How is this really -- this can't -- you can't really believe--"
"It is," Peggy insisted. "It can. I do really believe. If Steve and I marry, and you stick around, no one will think a thing about it. This type of situation is -- if not common -- at least something people will not go out of their way to gossip about -- as long as you make a proper show sometimes of going out with ladies."
"I guess I can sometimes go out with ladies," Bucky sulked, while Steve and Peggy chuckled.
"You're such a great dancer, Bucky -- you owe it to the world to go out dancing as much as you can."
Bucky nodded, but still looked a bit glum. Peggy's heart went out to him.
"Perhaps -- perhaps we should speak more plainly," Peggy suggested.
"What do you mean?" Steve asked.
"This arrangement of ours," Peggy said. "I know you two are in love, and have been for a very long time. My 'engagement' with Steve was meant, at first, to protect the two of you. But. If." Peggy wasn't used to being hesitant about what she was trying to say, but this felt so important it was difficult to get out. "If. If you really want to go through with it -- for us to marry someday -- I'd like it very much if you'd plainly say so."
"Peggy -- you're my best girl!" Steve exclaimed. "I do want to go through with it!"
Bucky interrupted. "He's gonna marry you, doll, if I have anything to say about it. And if he doesn't -- or -- or can't-- I will. If you'll have me."
The thought of losing Steve made Peggy ache, while at the same time, Bucky's noble sentiments warmed her to her core.
"Bucky, it would be my honor to be yours. If only --"
The three lovers allowed themselves to dream, just for a moment, of a day when the war was over, when the three of them could be happy together. How lovely that day would be!
"I have an idea," Steve said.
"Oh no. Peggy, look out. That tone, that light in his eye, it never bodes well," Bucky warned.
Steve got down on his knee, and taking Bucky's hand, said, "Bucky, if you could, would you marry me?"
Bucky couldn't speak for a moment, then he choked out, "Yes, of course, punk!"
Steve kept Bucky's hand in his left hand, then took Peggy's and said, "Peggy, someday, will you marry me?"
"Yes," Peggy said, tears welling up in her eyes. She was certainly not prone to crying, but she supposed there was a time and place for everything.
Steve squeezed Bucky's hand and rolled his eyes toward Peggy meaningfully, pulling Bucky unsubtly down beside him.
"Oh! Yeah!" Bucky said, on his knees. "Peggy, I pledge thee my troth -- okay?"
Peggy's eyes flew wide at Bucky's lovely, old-fashioned phrase. "Yes!" she cried. "Oh, I never expected to be swept off my feet by two best friends!"
"You want us to sweep you off your feet?" Bucky said, in a rich, low tone.
"We could do that," Steve said casually.
Peggy felt strangely weak for a moment -- not as though she would be overpowered, but that she'd be perfectly safe to let her guard down and allow these two men to have their way with her.
"I'd like that, quite a lot," Peggy said.
They didn't sweep her up -- they drifted, as they often did, kissing and holding each other, every step a little closer to the bedroom until they were lying there, Bucky in a loose puddle of blue satin, Peggy's gown clinging sleek at the bodice and fanning out around her waist, and Steve in the middle, naked except for his shirt. They had dropped his clothes wherever they fell in a trail from the front room to the bed: they both thought it good fun making Steve feel messy.
Bucky held Steve close from behind, like he'd done so many nights of their lives, and he lifted the edge of the peignoir up and draped it over Steve, while Peggy cuddled her back against Steve's front.
"I had a blanket with a satin edge when I was kid," Steve said, running his hand down Peggy's side. "It was so smooth and silky and comforting when I was sick."
"You were always sick," Bucky said.
"I know. I think that blanket went away after the rheumatic fever."
"That's so sad," Peggy said.
"It's no fun being poor," Bucky said.
"I'm sorry," Peggy answered. She imagined herself with Bucky weaving a satin dream for Steve, comforting him with luxury after his solo assignments, pampering him and giving him the sort of reward a true hero deserves.
Steve seemed to catch her vision. "With the two of you wearing these beautiful things, that silky smoothness is all around me."
"Whatever you need, that's what we'll be," Bucky swore.
Peggy thought of everything she had learned to become an agent -- how to shoot a gun, knock a man down, keep a straight face when a secret matters more than a life. To become an SSR agent she had to learn to be hard. To succeed she had to polish herself like brass. But here, in this bed, she could be more complicated. She could be smart and strong, skillful and soft. Bucky and Steve didn't make assumptions. They hadn't had all the time in the world -- there were still many things about them she didn't know, and things about her they were only guessing. But they wanted to learn. That made the difference for Peggy between this -- her commitment to these two men, her dreams of a future with them -- and the casual affairs she'd indulged in as a modern girl to learn her way through a man's world. Sex with a man was one more battle. But loving was something so much more.
Steve's lips at her neck, his groans as Bucky's clever fingers opened him up, the sighs she couldn't help breathing out as he toyed with her nipples through her smooth satin gown -- Peggy had learned these sorts of things as means to an end, but now they glowed in her mind like priceless treasures. When Steve's questing hand sought her pleasure between her legs, he had no ulterior motive -- he loved her and wanted to give her something good. There was a kind of generosity in having two lovers that Peggy had never suspected. While Bucky was teasing Steve, working him over, bringing him just to the edge, Steve had no reason to touch Peggy so sweetly except that he wanted to. Peggy only had to let go, to say yes, to moan Steve's name when he touched her the way she liked best.
Steve let out a hiss and a moan Peggy knew -- that was Bucky easing inside him, and sure enough, Bucky's easy thrusting rocked Steve against Peggy, like waves on a river bank.
"Come inside me, Steve," Peggy whispered. The long blue folds of satin were hiked around her waist, and she handed Steve a prophylactic from the bedside table -- God bless America for protecting her troops. Steve slipped inside her, all the way in one thrust, as wet as she was, and she pushed back against him, taking him so, so deep. She loved the angle, the feel of him hitting that mysterious place inside where everything felt so dark and intense, like a fire that burned but gave no light. Bucky pushed into Steve, and Steve pushed into Peggy, and she pushed back, and it was all one smooth, oceanic dance, swathed in china blue.
"Stevie, Steve, you're so perfect, oh god," Bucky was chanting. He could never keep quiet. Peggy moaned deep in her throat, letting herself be just a little vocal because she knew her men liked it. Steve kept silent unless they made him beg; he'd hidden his desire for Bucky for so long, and besides, he didn't trust his breathing.
This wasn't new any more for the three of them, but for Peggy it was better every time. She could feel Bucky's tension in the way Steve held her hip, Bucky's kisses in Steve's hungry mouth behind her ear. When she pushed back against Steve she could hear Bucky's moan.
"Peggy, doll, give it to us, baby. You're so hot, Steve's burning me. Oh, god, Steve, you feel so good." Bucky's rambling was interspersed with groans as he tried to hold himself back, but couldn't keep from burying himself inside Steve. They all knew how it went, and that just made it so much better.
It was Steve who was taking it from Bucky and giving it to Peggy, so it was no surprise he let go first. His breath caught in his throat as he choked back his cries, he bit his full lower lip, and tried not to pant in Peggy's ear, and then he was coming, hard and pulsing inside her, bearing down on Bucky.
"Oh, fuck," Bucky groaned, and he slammed into Steve, all the way home as he came. Peggy pulsed around Steve, his hardness filling her in all the right ways, his relentless hand never ceasing in its slow but steady stimulation.
"Come for us, Peggy," Steve whispered in her ear, and she lost it, bearing down hard on Steve's prick, his hand chasing against her, tipping her over into white-hot pleasure. She wouldn't scream -- she would not -- but gasping her way through orgasm made her lovers happy.
They lay still for a minute or two, then Peggy got up and went to the loo, and brought back a warm wet cloth so Bucky and Steve could clean up. None of Peggy's china blue satin was besmirched, thought Bucky did get a little red lipstick on the pillowcase. He only got prettier as the day wore on, as the makeup smeared and faded it enhanced his smoky good looks until Peggy thought he was like a dark angel, Steve's fallen counterpart.
They napped, cracked open novels, drank afternoon tea, danced in the front room, pulled the shades tight and laughed around the wireless, drinking gin martinis. They made the most of the time they had, never knowing when it would run out.
