The Stark's cabin is an hour-drive from town by the winding road. We're leaving to spend some time there like we usually do every summer... Around the loop and back again.
Steve is driving his blue pickup truck, Buchanan is seated on the right end's side and I'm seated in the middle. Music's playing quietly enough for us to chat, but no one is speaking. I don't dare speak.
Being tucked between the two men who have ever fucked me is overwhelming to say the least, and when I'm usually a very talkative person, I'm not in the mood at all to make conversation. The morning I left Steve's bedroom still gives me chills whenever I think about it.
Only a shaky breath leaves my mouth when I feel a hand sliding on my left leg. I glance down, and Steve's hand is resting on my bare thigh, his thumb gently drawing small circles on my skin.
His confession at the bar rushes into my mind. And what happened between us the other night...
I meant to go easy, Lena, I swear. But I don't think I can control myself around you anymore.
You know for how long I've been dying to do just this? To fuck you and treat you like more than just a friend? It feels like forever since I first thought of us like this.
We certainly need to talk about...this. Our friendship is so precious to me, I don't want to destroy what we've built since middle school to end because of a momentary lapse. Because that's what it is. A momentary lapse of reason.
There was a time when I would have been kicking my feet at the thought of Steve and I becoming a thing. But now, with Buchanan in the equation... I'm not so sure about that anymore.
Steve's cock felt good... and I'm not sure I would be strong enough to say no if that situation happened again. I should be disgusted with myself, and I am. Terribly. I'm playing a dangerous game and I know someone will get hurt at the end of it.
My train of thoughts is interrupted when I feel another touch burning up my skin.
Buchanan's hand is now on my right thigh. His fingers are teasing the inside of my leg, his pinky finger dangerously close to the hem of my shorts.
I suck in a breath, but Steve seems oblivious about what's happening, his eyes focused on the road ahead as his hand mindlessly draws patterns on my flesh. But Bucky tilts his head and looks straight into my eyes.
Does he find Steve's gesture inappropriate? It's not like we're serious and I cheated on him -we never talked about that. About what we are. We're not like a couple, are we?- And besides, he's been a complete jerk to me that night at the bar. Yes, I let him fuck me afterwards, and I let him fucked me the other day in the record shop, but still.
I never thought I'd be into that kind of stuff -public sex- and this soon into my sex life. I mean, I was a virgin just a couple days ago. But hey, look at me now, conflicted but freaking aroused by their hands on me, touching me, caressing me.
I wonder what it would feel like if the two of them were taking me at the same time, pounding into me from the front and the back. Me at their complete mercy, while they bring me to orgasm.
Thinking about two dicks filling me up doesn't help. A drop of cold sweat runs down my back and I'm close to begging them to stop the pickup on the roadside and do something about my throbbing clit.
I glance at Buchanan who's still staring at me from the side, and he seems to read my mind like an open book. He leans his face closer to me, his mouth brushing my ear and I fight back a shiver. God, I love when he does that.
"I know what you're thinking, Sunshine," he nibbles my earlobe and I close my eyes, trying hard to muffle my moans. "Is that a thing you'd be into?"
My heart misses a beat, taken aback about what he's just said. How the hell can he read my thoughts like that? Am I that transparent? Fantasizing about a MFM sexual relationship is not written all over my face, is it?
"I-I don't know. Maybe."
Buchanan finally puts the distance back between us and I suck in a breath. "Not happening."
Blood rushes to my cheeks and I'm so ashamed for being this naive. I try to push his hand away but he doesn't budge.
"Do you mind stopping for a break?" Buchanan keeps teasing my crotch and my voice comes out more desperate than I thought it would. Like... like a moan?
"What? Already?" Steve says. "We just left ten minutes ago -"
"Please, Steven."
"Wow, okay. Fine."
Steve pulls up on the side of the road and I don't wait for the truck to stop that I'm already rushing him to get out of this damn cab. Fresh air fills my lungs as I put some distance between Steve, Buchanan and me, but it's not enough.
I feel like I could explode right now. It wasn't the brightest idea to get into a car with the two of them. I probably should have been with Sam and Tony instead, or even Natasha? That would have been less suffocating than this ride.
Now my panties are soaking wet, my heart is beating at an erratic pace and my knees threaten to give up on me.
"What's her problem?" I hear Steve ask Buchanan, incomprehension clear in his voice. Of course he doesn't understand my sudden change of mood. I'd been so excited to go to the cabin earlier. He'd been the one to suggest this trip to clear my head after I told him what happened the morning I left his room.
My parents didn't believe me, but I knew Steve would. And he did.
"I don't know, man. You should go talk to her."
I try to calm down, inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth.
"Did I do something wrong?" Steve says the moment he approaches me, obvious worry in his voice. I shake my head in answer as I start pacing around. I don't trust myself if I speak. "I didn't want to rush you with the hand but it felt like... right? I mean, I wanted to... Ugh, fuck. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Lena. Okay?"
I try to talk but nothing comes out of my mouth. He shouldn't be the one apologizing. I should.
"We should get back on the road," I hear Buchanan say.
God, Buchanan is messing with my head.
"Come here," Steve says as he pulls me closer to him. The side of my face is resting on his chest and I can feel his heartbeat pacing at the same speed as mine. He gently brushes my hair with his chin resting at the top of my head, lulling me until my breathing is not as shallow as it was five minutes ago.
He doesn't rush me and I feel like he could do just that all day and night, and he would be happy as long as he has me in his arms.
"You feel any better?" he gently asks me.
I nod, sniffing, straightening myself so I can look up at him and I give him a small smile. It doesn't reach my eyes, but he looks content with it. Then I look down to where my face was just now. His t-shirt is stained with what I hope is only tears.
"I'm sorry about your t-shirt..."
"I'll never wash it," Steve whispers conspicuously and I let a laugh escape me in surprise.
He wraps an arm around me, guiding me back to the truck. Forty-five minutes later, and with no distracting hands on my thighs, we finally arrive at the cabin and Sam, Tony and Natasha are already there, unloading their duffle bags from the trunk.
We're not even fully out of the car yet that Natasha jogs to us and when I think she's gonna throw herself into Steve or Buchanan's arms, she comes to me instead. Looping her arm around mine, she pulls me toward the cabin, leaving the boys to unload the trunk by themselves.
Good. I need some air anyway. Our break didn't make the rest of the drive any easier.
We start walking to the front door and leaning on my side, she whispers in my ear, "I picked the master bedroom for us."
She talks to me like we were sixteen again. Like she never betrayed me. I can't say it doesn't feel good to have my friend back. But for how long? How long before she turns her back to me for someone else? For a boy? I don't know what I was expecting, I guess I gave up our friendship the moment I saw her with Clint, but I didn't think that we could pick it up where we left it.
We walk into the cabin and it's exactly like I remembered. Nothing has changed since we last came here last year. Same decor, same smell, same welcoming vibe whenever you walk through the threshold. This cabin is full of so many good memories, it's good to be back.
Natasha leads me by the hand to the first floor where the master bedroom is. The cabin has a dormitory and one master bedroom, so the one Natasha called shotgun for is the only one with a comfy king size bed instead of single beds.
When we enter the room, she throws herself face first on the bed which creaks a little. It makes me laugh and I join her, sitting at the edge of the mattress. I want to say something, but I don't know what. I bite my tongue to prevent me from saying that would hurt both of us.
She then turns on her back, her eyes now watching the ceiling. She pats down the mattress, silently telling me to lay down next to her.
I comply, resting my hands on my stomach and watching the same spot as her on the ceiling. Neither of us dare speak for a solid minute until she does. "Remember when we used to sing Taylor Swift during our sleepovers?"
I chuckle but it comes out a little sad, a mix of hurt and nostalgia invading me.
We used to do that a lot. Singing the lyrics over the 1989 CD album in my room, our hairbrushes as a mic while dancing in our matching one piece jumpsuit pajamas we begged our moms to buy us and we would eat enough candy to give us both a cavity at each tooth.
Saw you there and I thought
'Oh, my God, look at that face
You look like my next mistake
Love's a game, wanna play?'
"Yeah," I breathe. I miss the old times too.
She takes my hand, intertwining our fingers together. I let her, but it catches me off guard, so I tilt my head in her direction. She's still staring at that spot though, not meeting my eyes.
"I'm sorry, you know? About what happened."
She doesn't need to explain further why she's sorry. I know why she's apologizing. I accept her apologies, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt anymore. Even a couple of years later. But I can make an effort. For the sake of our friendship.
I squeeze her hand, silently telling I forgive her and offer her a smile the moment Natasha tilts her head in my direction. Suddenly someone appears in the doorframe.
"Am I interrupting something, ladies?" Tony says with a salacious smile across his face, dropping our bags to the floor.
"Ugh," Natasha rolls her eyes, swings her legs over the edge of the bed and stands up before walking out of the bedroom and shoving Tony on her way out. "Moron."
I stifle a laugh when Tony loses his balance, banging himself against the wooden door frame in a loud thud.
The entire town hopes they get together someday. The Mayor's son and the Sheriff's daughter. But from all the guys she has ever turned her eye on, he's not one of them.
***
I wake up in the middle of the night, thirsty. I'm careful not to wake Natasha when I hop down our bed and feel my way along the kitchen in the dark.
Only then I switch on the light and I jump.
"Trouble getting asleep?" Buchanan says, his elbows propped on the kitchen island, playing with his glass as he circles the rim with the pad of his finger.
"We could say that," I reply as I take a hesitant step toward the sink, giving him my back.
I didn't ignore him all night, it was just that I didn't feel like it was okay to talk to him after what happened in the car with Steve. It felt... I don't know. Wrong?
"I don't really mind him trying to have you, you know. As long as it's my name written on your back at the end of the day."
I open the upper cabinet to grab a glass and pour some water before bringing it to my lips. It's only then that I dare meet his eyes.
"What?" I ask as I watch him staring at me. There's tension in his jaw and no lust in his eyes, and I suddenly feel aware of what I'm wearing.
It's Steve's football jersey with his last name and the number #4 on the back. I threw it without thinking in my duffle bag when I packed for our trip, as I'm used to sleeping in it often.
He nods once, pointing out the Gems team's green jersey. "Take it off." I'm frozen into place and when he sees I don't move, he's the one who walks to me. Slowly. Silently. Taking his time. Almost like a predator stalking its prey. "Why wear someone else's jersey when you could wear mine instead? Mhm?"
My breath itches and I watch him walk closer to me. "Answer me, Sunshine. Is it because you want him?"
It's like I can't move when he takes the hem of Steve's jersey I'm wearing as a pajama top, and slips it over my head before tossing it on the floor.
I'm now bare in the middle of the kitchen, with the exception of my cotton shorts.
I feel so fucking stupid as Buchanan studies me from head to toe. He's wetting his lips as his eyes linger on my breasts and I turn away from him, gripping the edge of the kitchen island for comfort.
At least the lust came back in his eyes.
God. I'm fucked up if I think that's a good thing.
He's quick to stand behind me, his front forcing me to bend over the countertop, my breasts flattening against the cold, hard surface, making me shiver.
Or is it because he's now pressing his hard cock between my ass cheeks?
"Does he fuck you better than I do?"
I find myself arching my back, pushing my ass against him, grinding on his erection. I want him to fill me up so bad, I should care about the fact that we are in a house full of our friends right now but I don't. They're asleep, and if we're quiet enough, they will not suspect anything. Right?
I only register now what Buchanan has just said. Does he fuck you better than I do? Does that mean he knows that Steve and I have slept together? He wasn't there when we did it, Steve told me he gave us privacy, but we clearly ran into each other at seven in the morning the next day. It would be stupid of me to assume he didn't put two and two together.
Buchanan nibs my earlobe, and all my thoughts and doubts vanish.
"Does he hit all the right spots just like I do? Making you scream his name when you feel your climax coming?"
Shame invades every cell in my body. I actually did say Buchanan's name when Steve was fucking me. I don't have the time to be disgusted with myself that Buchanan pushes my shorts aside and pinches my clit. My eyes widen when I realize the unholy moans I hear are coming out of my mouth and I can't seem to restrain them.
"Did you whimper like that when he fucked you?" Buchanan continues whispering in my ear as he keeps teasing my clit with one hand and my nipple with the other. "Or is it all just for me, Sunshine? Be honest."
"Just for you," I cry softly.
He's caging me with his arms around my body and I can't move.
"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"
I shake my head.
I couldn't lie to him even if I wanted to. He's all I can think about since we first met in that airport nearly eight months ago and my body would betray me anyway. I'm far too wet and too aroused to tell him the opposite.
"Good girl. Now spread your legs wider. I think I'm gonna lose it if I'm not buried inside you in the next ten seconds."
The hand that was a second ago on my breast is gone and I feel him lower his shorts behind me. My blood rushes faster through my veins in anticipation and my breath turns shallow. Then he pushes himself inside me and his cock slowly slides in and out in a steady rhythm that already sends my eyes rolling in the back of my head.
"I can't stop thinking about you. You live rent free in my head, day and night. You're the worst kind of obsession, Jolene. My obsession. One I can't seem to find a cure for and if I'm being honest, I'm not sure I ever want to find one."
Unhealthy obsession? my brows pull together at the word. It suddenly feels like it's too much. But then his hips slam harder into me, his cock hitting a spot that makes me see stars and I forget everything else.
"Louder, Sunshine. Let's tell him how good I'm making you feel."
I tuck my lips in a thin line to actually restrain my moans for once. I don't want to wake up anyone and risk them to catch us in the act. In the middle of the kitchen's cabin, in the middle of literally nowhere. We're surrounded by massive pine trees and endless lakes and except for the three souls who are sleeping on the first floor, there's nobody for miles around.
"I said, louder," Buchanan groans, changing the angle just so slightly but it's enough for me to let go of my lips and moan like he wants me to.
"Buch-" I inhale sharply and I can't finish, the words failing me. "Oh, God."
"God abandoned you when you first talked to me in that airport, baby. There's only me and the devil now."
He's hitting all the right spots and I clench around him, barely able to breathe between his deep thrusts. Each time he roughly pounds into me my clit grinds against the marble countertop that is all wet and slippery now and I'm coming. I feel every single one of my muscles contracting and I can feel he's close too.
I'm coming so hard I forget we're not alone, desperately crying out as we both tremble, covered in sweat and lost in eachother. He growls and I feel his cum coating my walls, his cock pulsing inside me and I hope that unlike the both of us, our friends are tucked in tight.