And now I'm lost in your sweet surrender
I wanna be the one that you run to
Wanna be the one you say 'I love' to
Been waiting on forever just to hold you
And our love will make the headlines tonight

So hold me, and feel me
I've been waiting for your touch
Your beauty consumes me
I've never loved someone so much

Blake Lewis, "Your Touch"

oOoOoOo

Steve clears his throat and sets Toni back onto her feet, but takes a moment to cradle her face and tip it up towards him. "You sure you're okay?"

Toni's eyes are dry and achy, but she rolls them in Bucky's direction. "He's always like this, isn't he?"

Bucky's grin is wry, affectionate. "Always."

"Yes Steve," she says. "I promise. I'm okay. And I'm with Bucky on this. Shiny, then stripping."

Steve looks between them, eyes flicking back and forth, and then he shakes his head. "You two," he says, "are a matched pair. One'a you'd be enough to do me in."

"Lucky you," Toni says with a smirk as his hands drop away from her jaw. "You got us both."

Bucky pulls her to him as Steve lets her go, maneuvering her until her back is pressed against his front, looping his arms around her waist and leaning forward to rest his chin on her shoulder. Toni leans back into him, letting a muffled mmph of contentment free at the solid, familiar, comforting warmth suffuses her skin.

She turns her head into his jaw, nips the pulse point, grins against his skin at his grunt. "Missed you, James," she murmurs, and reaches up to slide her hand along his cheekbone and into his hair.

He shivers, huffs a sigh, and leans into her, breathing deeply against her hair. "Christ, you smell good," he says, and sinks teeth into her earlobe. Toni whines softly, and it turns to an equally soft moan when he spider walks his hand up her side and cups her breast, and Toni's head falls to the side, letting him bite down her throat to the sensitive juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Steve's shoulders are tight as he turns back, hands full of the titanium bands. He swallows and eyes them both with the expression of a man just smacked with a hammer. "Jesus," he says, and his voice is a little hoarse. He shakes himself, and steps towards them again, fumbling with the clasp of the red and grey band. "Can't turn my back for a second."

Toni blinks at him, languid and lazy. "Sorry Steve," she says, even though she's not sorry in the least. "I'm still being good. Buck's the one who said 'no promises'."

"He complains," Bucky says against her collarbone, "but he likes watching." He teases her dress down, baring her breast. He slips his hand under it again, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb. "Just look at 'im. Breathin' hard and trying' to hide it."

Toni opens her eyes, lifts her head from Bucky's shoulder, focuses on Steve who is still standing, silent and still, staring at them with an expression half annoyance and half arousal. Toni bites her lip, watches his eyes shift to track the movement like a hawk, and a pulse of arousal squeezes her. "Sorry Steve," she says again, inhales sharply, rolls her hips back until Bucky's cock is snugged against her ass, as much as it can with layers of denim and silk in the way. "M'tryin' to be good."

"Witch," Bucky mutters breathlessly, and tugs her leg to the side, teasing his metal fingers up the inside of her thigh. "Can probably make you come before Steve remembers how his legs work."

"I know how they work," Steve growls, and closes the last few steps between them swiftly. He reaches out, past Toni, and she's suddenly sandwiched between them, deliciously trapped in heat and solid flesh. Steve doesn't pause, or turn, just hauls Bucky closer and kisses him hard over her shoulder. The hand holding the wrist cuffs drifts over her collarbone just above Bucky's clever fingers, and Bucky's other hand slips under her dress, brushes ever-so-lightly over her panties.

"Fuck," she groans, shudders hard and squeezes her eyes shut. Two separate bonds rock through her, humming in perfect counterpoint to her high-pitched breath and the filthy, wet noises Bucky and Steve are making beside her ear, until she feels as though she'll shake apart from it. "Steve," she says with effort, and when he doesn't look up she adds, in as firm a tone as she can manage halfway to ripping their clothes off with her bare hands as she is, "Cap."

Instantly, Steve breaks away from Bucky, dazed but alert, mouth wet and red and kiss-swollen. He focuses on Tony, and his entire demeanor shifts to one of concern. "Oh, damn. Toni, I'm sorry. Were we hurting you?"

Bucky brushes her mound again, firmer and slower. "Naw," he says, as Toni moans and bucks against his hand. "She's soakin' wet, Stevie. She's enjoyin' herself."

"She can speak for herself, James." With effort, against her libido's advice and despite the deep, burning, pounding need of three people screaming through her soul marks, Toni shoves at the walls of muscle until they separate. She scrambles free on shaky legs, and has to hang on to the back of a chair to keep her balance while she catches her breath.

"Clearly," she says, once she can think somewhat again, "we're going to be distracted for awhile. Is there anything we need to do before we stop paying attention to anything but each other? Food, water? Last will and testament?"

"Thought of that." Bucky is smug and self-satisfied. "While you two were havin' dinner, I stashed stuff around. Wasn't sure how many rooms we'd end up in over the next three days, so I stocked 'em all. Protein bars, those bottles'a sports drinks you like, Toni. First aid kits, lube, wipes. Some of Toni's kinda terrifyingly huge collection of things that vibrate. Whatever we'd need for seventy-two uninterrupted hours of sin an' debauchery."

Toni stares at him, and he just grows even smugger. "Jesus, James. What are you, the ultimate porn fairy?"

"You two were busy," he says, meeting Steve's incredulous glance with an arch look of his own. "I told ya, there was plenty of makework." Flicks his gaze back to Toni. "Anythin' else before I get back to reacquainting myself with your moans, Toni? Steve?"

Steve clears his throat, and the ting of metal ringing against metal sounds as he moves his hands. "May I..?"

Toni swallows, cos that damn lump is back, and straightens from the chair. "Of course, sweetheart," she says, and holds out her right arm.

Steve glances at Bucky, and Bucky shrugs with an odd, pleased grin. "This is your thing, Stevie," he murmurs, and holds out his right arm too.

For a moment, Toni thinks Steve might be about to cry, because his face scrunches and his eyes shimmer, but he chokes it back and separates Bucky's bracelet out and fiddles with the catch, then presses it over Bucky's wrist. He turns to Toni then, twisting the catch on hers. "Do you want to put it on yourself, or..?"

"No," Toni says, means it to be breezy, but it comes out breathy and trembling instead. Her hand stays rock steady. "No, you go ahead, Steve."

The titanium is warm, slick, perfectly fits to lie flush with her skin without pinching or feeling like it's cutting off her circulation. Not surprising, because Lexa is a master of her craft, and Toni really owes her a thank you and another couple thousand dollars in commission at the very least. What is surprising is that the tiny click of the latch catching is loud and resonant as an avalanche, powerful as a sonic boom, as weighty and comforting as the Iron Maiden armor around her.

By unspoken agreement, she and Bucky both lock Steve's into place together on his right wrist, and they stand together, fingers tangled together, in a moment of profound quiet afterwards. There's a hum between them, Toni can feel it vibrating in her teeth, a pleasant buzz of contentment and wonder and awe and other, more nuanced, emotions too balled and melded together to make sense of.

"Wow," Toni finally says, swipes her eyes. "Shit. I haven't cried this much since that scene with the old couple in Titanic. This is why I don't do feelings, you know."

"Sure," Steve says, rubs his thumb over her cuff. He's got his other arm comfortably around Bucky's waist, and Bucky's leaning against him, head tucked on Steve's shoulder. "And Bucky isn't afraid of the roller coaster on Coney Island."

Bucky lifts his head long enough to send his best, narrowest-eyed glare at Steve. "You puked on me, punk."

Toni laughs, a delighted giggle that grows into a full-throated laugh at the flush of annoyed embarrassment Steve displays. "He did not."

"Yes he fuckin' did," Bucky replies. "Ate too much and jumped on the ride too soon. Hell, I told him if he wanted that much sausage, I'd take him home and feed him, but he insisted. There were these girls, see, and…"

The abrupt sound of cloth ripping and buttons popping shuts Bucky up, and whips both of their attention to Steve, who is calmly shedding the tattered remnants of his shirt. Toni twitches towards him at the sight of his chest, his bared soulmarks, and she whines, soft and low. "I," Steve cuts in, red-faced and firm, "am going to bed. You two wanna sit out here and talk about things that happened eighty years ago, you go right ahead. I'll just take … things into my own hands if you don't show up."

Toni's hand finds Bucky's and their fingers link together as they watch Steve walk, head held high, from the room. Toni licks dry lips as the flexing muscles vanish around the corner, and she tilts her head to eye Bucky. Knows he's thinking about naked Steve and wandering hands. Knows it because it's suddenly all she can think about.

"Tell you the rest later," Bucky says hoarsely, eyes locked on the empty door.

"Yeah," Toni says, just as hoarse. "Much, much later."

Hand-in-hand, they trail after their soulmate, not rushing too quickly, but not dawdling either. Toni's higher thought processes are starting to slip away, washed into dormancy by the anticipation shivering through her nervous system, but Bucky's hand tight in hers keeps her anchored. "This is what you want, right?" she finds herself asking.

Bucky stops, tugs her to a halt, and turns her towards him. He cradles her cheek, searches her face, frowns faintly. "Course it is. Why are you asking?"

She isn't sure why the faint remnant echoes of uncertainty are choosing now to surface again, but can't shove them back down again. Her Master in Metaphysics is working against her here, filling her mind with the horror stories, rare though they were, she ran into during the course of her thesis research. "A lot of triads don't have a complete bond, and they're happy with that. They don't want to lose themselves to a partner with a stronger personality. It happens that way sometimes, you know."

Astonishingly, Bucky just starts laughing like he's heard the funniest joke in the universe. "Toni," he says, between chuckles. "You are fuckin' adorable as shit, you know that? You really think that one of us is a more dominant personality than the other? Shit , babe. You haven't been paying attention if you think you're gonna get lost somewhere between me an' Steve." He pauses, his head tilts, and he grins. "Well. Not in the way you're talkin' about anyway."

"Pervert," she says, then chews on her lip. "I don't do this…." A twirl of her hand. "...insecure shit often, okay? Just let me have a moment."

"Okay, dollface." He pulls her into a one-arm hug, kisses her hair. "Have your moment. But trust me. Between the three of us, we've got enough stubborn to out-wait a goddamn mountain. Ain't no one sweeping anyone else under. Just have faith, and think of all the HYDRA ass we're gonna kick when we're synched up proper, yeah?"

Toni smiles, huffs a sigh. "You old sweet-talker. You always know most romantic thing to say to a girl who likes building shiny power armor and blowing shit up."

"I try," Bucky says modestly, and caresses her throat. "Now, if you're done being cute and weird, I'd like to go break a few beds."

"Gonna have to try at that too," Toni says as they start moving down the hall again. "My beds are reinforced. I might have had an orgy or two in my hedonistic youth."

"That's a pretty thought," Bucky says, and nudges the ajar bedroom door open with his free hand. They both stop dead at the threshold, because Steve is sprawled on top of the covers, facing the door with his head propped on a hand, lazily stroking himself as he watches them with a smile. "There's another pretty thought," he says, only slightly strangled.

"You know," Toni says, hushed. "I can't think what's more appropriate. Stark naked or buck naked, because really, either would apply right now."

"I don't see how," Steve replies, his smile edging into self-satisfaction. "Neither Stark nor Buck is naked. So I'm not quite sure what criteria you're judging appropriateness by, but it isn't that."

Toni's mental tracks have kicked into standby, into autopilot, and she opens her mouth, no doubt to begin a long, rambling explanation as to how no, she's Stark and he's Buck and Steve is completely naked, so it is one hundred and thirty percent appropriate. But Bucky cuts her off before she can begin by stripping her dress down her body with a single yank.

"Shut up, Toni," Bucky says desperately, even though she hasn't said a word, and undoes the clasp of her bra with a practiced twist of his fingers, letting it fall to the floor with the puddle of her dress. "And help me with these fucking buttons."

"No rush," Steve drawls, full of amusement. "I'm not going anywhere for awhile."

Toni thanks her stars individually and by name that she's so used to operating things on autopilot, because while her fingers make quick work of the buttons on Bucky's shirt, she's not sure she'd have been able to do it were she required to think about it. She shoves his shirt back off his shoulders, and he lifts her out of the tangle of cloth on the floor. Out of sheer habit, she skims her palm over their soulmark on his chest, and it snaps open with its usual, torrential flow of sensation and emotion.

With a violent, vicious oath, Bucky yanks Toni up by the shoulders and kisses her like he's trying to eat her alive. She surges up against him, fisting a hand in his hair and kisses him back with every ounce of fight she has in her. By the time their wrestling knocks her hand away from the soulmark a few seconds later, they're both gasping and trembling and clinging to each other for support. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, I'm not going to survive this," she pants.

"Have faith," he pants back, and his gaze slides over her shoulder. "Enjoyin' the show, Stevie?"

Steve's breathless groan of assent is all the answer they get.

Bucky starts walking Toni backwards, guiding her with his hands on her shoulders as she pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans. When her thighs hit the mattress, he ducks, and in a move that borders on supernaturally athletic, he pulls her panties down and tips her so she's falling towards the bed. She yelps involuntarily, but Steve's hands catch her and guide her down until they're lying flush together.

He looms over her, with a broad smile and soft eyes. "Hi," he says.

She blinks up at him, flashes a grin, then turns her attention to Bucky, who has stopped with his pants halfway down, staring at them with reverent disbelief. "Christ," he says, thick with emotion, and finishes kicking out of his jeans. "Christ. It's one thing to know , but another to see …" His voice cracks, and he gestures wordlessly at them.

"Buck?" Steve says quietly.

"Your soulmarks, dumbass. So used to seein' 'em solo. And it always felt… not wrong, but off, you know? To not have them all together." He mops his lower face with a hand, clasps his chin. "And it's all gonna change again in a minute. So just let me look."

Toni glances up at Steve. "You know," she says, "we have been pretty terrible soulmates to him. Fighting with each other, you smack me with your shield, I shoot you with my repulsor. Hasn't been easy on Bucky. I know he's been worried for the last few days that we'd kill each other out here."

Steve's eyebrows do things, but Toni's not nearly as adept at reading them as Bucky is. He seems to get the gist, though, because his smile turns ever-so-slightly wicked. "Should we show him how well we're getting along?" he asks, all innocence and light, and Bucky's groan is muffled and desperate.

"He wants to look," Toni says, nodding, and skitters her fingers across Steve's stomach. "It'd be reassuring, I think, if we gave him something to watch."

His stomach spasms when she hits a ticklish spot, and he traps her roaming hand between his abdomen and his free hand. "Be nice," he warns, guiding her hand down until she can close around the length of his erection. He hisses in a sharp breath at her light, experimental tug, then nudges her legs apart and sets his hand over her mound, fingers flexing through the slick, wet folds over her clit.

"Mmmm. I'm always nice. Kiss me, Steve." she says, husky and low, eyes fluttering closed at the light stroke of his fingers, tightening her grip and slowly stroking up and down. Steve's mouth settles over hers, and she opens for him immediately, flicking her tongue across his upper lip.

Off to the side, Bucky chokes and stutters, and whipcord-tight tension thrums across their bond. Toni smiles into Steve's mouth, sighing and shifting her legs wider when he moves his hand down, arches up to help his fingers slide into her.

Sharp, fierce want spikes across the bond, flickers like a candle that builds into a bonfire, and Toni's head rocks back, mouth tearing free of Steve's. "God, can you feel him?" she moans, pushing against Steve's hand, sliding her own hand against the cant of his hips sliding his cock through the circle of her palm and fingers in ragged, shallow rhythm.

"Yes," Steve says on a long exhale, and falls onto the side of her throat, sucking and nipping at her jaw in between muffled, eager noises. "I can feel him."

"Fuck," Bucky croaks, creaky and dry and faint. Toni can hear the plates in his arm shifting and whispering against against each other. Steve's long, clever fingers finally push in deep enough to hit the sweet spot and Toni bows inward with a short cry.

Dirty talk's never been natural to her. For someone who talks a hell of a lot about absolutely nothing, Toni's always felt awkward as hell describing things in the middle of sex. But she twists her head towards Bucky, conveniently providing Steve with better access to the side of her neck.

Bucky's standing at the edge of the bed, so close he could reach out and touch them if he wanted. And for a bad second, Toni thinks that he might be lost to memory, lost to flashbacks, because his eyes are dark and distant. But then they focus with frightening speed, and he swears in vicious Russian when he catches her watching him.

"You… are you… oh, Jesus fuck, Steve… Right there. God." Every word that falls out of her mouth, every inarticulate noise, every breath or whine or sob, Bucky absorbs them all, but isn't moving to join them. Isn't moving to take care of that beautiful, painfully hard cock of his at all. "You with us, Bucky?"

He licks his lips, raises his eyes to her, nods once. "Yeah," he rasps. "'M with you. Just… enjoyin' the show. Really enjoying the show."

"Stop enjoying. Start joining." Steve's breath is getting shorter and shorter, and Toni's belly is filling with pressure and tension and pleasure. Neither of them are going to last much longer for their first orgasm of the night, and Toni wants to come with both of her soulmates, not just one.

She turns her head back to Steve, stares at the doubled star mere inches from her nose, and leans in to lick a broad, hot, slow stripe across it with her tongue. With her soulmates in stereo, the echoes of it jolt through her, mellow and hazy, just enough to tip her towards the edge a little further.

The effect on Bucky is profound. Whatever trance, whatever iron control he'd been holding himself in to watch them grind wantonly against one another breaks with a sudden, savage growl. And then he's crawling up her body, eyeing Steve over the heave of her legs. His hand lands high on her thigh and clutches hard enough to bruise, shifts around, and then two hard fingers push into her, sliding in and around Steve's. She barely registers warm flesh closing around her hand, still working Steve's cock, speeding the pace of her strokes until it pulls something very close to a yowl from Steve's throat.

Her vision goes briefly bright and jagged, delicious pressure builds and abruptly erupts, sending her hurtling over the edge, launched into a thrashing, full-throated climax.

Things blur there for a little bit, not losing track of time exactly, but finding it difficult to allocate mental resources to timekeeping while dealing with the constant pouring of her soulmates' desire and pleasure into her through her marks. She's aware of kissing Bucky, open-mouthed, hot and sloppy, with Steve's cock in between their mouths and his hands in their hair and his groans in their ears. She's aware of Steve sinking into her with closed eyes and a sighing moan, Bucky pressed against his back and setting the rhythm from the top of the pile. She's aware mouths on her nipples and fingers sliding in and out of her, Steve pushing from behind and Bucky from the front, and a feeling of fullness to the point of pain. She's aware of legs and arms, lips and hair, washcloths and gentle touches, hard demanding kisses and protein bars, greedily gulping water and standing at the open window to cool her sweat-drenched skin.

Linear time snaps back into place during her shower, and as her mind catches up with its processing, she's a little flabbergasted to realize that six hours have passed. And she's not sure either if it seems like too much time, or too little time, but the sun is down and the moon is high, so it's probably the former.

Someone, probably Steve if she judged by the military corners, has stripped and remade the bed with fresh sheets and blankets. She pauses long enough to swipe another couple of cereal bars and a bottle of Gatorade, then pads naked to the French doors and out onto the balcony.

Steve and Bucky are curled together, damp from their own showers, on a nest of cushions and pillows. She half-falls, is half-pulled by Bucky across their laps, and settles against them with a contented purr. Steve's arm circles her waist, Bucky's chin nudges onto her shoulder. No one is inclined to say anything, it seems, but that's okay too, because it's comfortable and intimate, this silence.

Eventually, Steve shifts around. His hand settles over their mark above her left breast, and stretches across her to lay a hand on Bucky's double star. His eyes flutter closed and he sighs in deep contentment. Bucky stirs off Toni's shoulder, kisses the curve of her ear. "We should do this now," he murmurs, and straightens to reach for Toni and Steve's soulmarks.

The second Bucky touches her, Toni feels it humming in her skull, jangling along the back of her teeth like electricity circling back and forth along an incomplete circuit. Incomplete until she lifts her hands, sliding one over her mark on Bucky's chest, fingers hovering over the one she shares with Steve.

Just for a second, she considers the possibility she'll be swept away. That she'll lose herself to it. That she'll become less. That she is less to begin with. And that's the thought that does her resistance in. She snorts at that thought, jarring Steve and Bucky into opening their eyes. "I am Toni fucking Stark," she says, firm and confident. "I can never be less. I can only become more."

And she presses her fingers onto Steve's skin.

And the world washes away in waves of howling cold, blazing fury, and surging rock, moving in tandem, moving in equilibrium, against all other forces seeking to oppose them.