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austinbutlerslovers · 7 days ago

Text

Just Between Us

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin invites Callum Turner to stay at your place for the week, but as the days pass, you begin to suspect they have something planned that they aren’t telling you. Their teasing and lingering touches build tension until, on the final night, they reveal exactly what they’ve been planning all along —both of them want you at the same time.

🔗 Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin +You + Callum • threesome• both focused on your pleasure •praising •sweet talk • good girl•being kissed by both • being passed between both • being used at the same time by both •fingering •clit play •nipple play • size kink • “Eiffel Tower” •oral on male • cum eating •P in V• simultaneous orgasms• cream pie •after care from both

RIP🐱 💦 Especially @aust-een @soft-mama-reads @psycheetamore @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @abswifey @unicoo

Just Between Us

The morning starts slow, just the way you like it. Sunlight filters through the curtains, golden and warm, stretching across the sheets as you stir awake.

The faint scent of coffee drifts from the kitchen, and when you finally push yourself out of bed, you find Austin already there, barefoot, hair still messy from sleep, an espresso in his hand as he leans lazily against the counter.

“Morning, beautiful,” he smiles, his eyes flicking up from his phone as you step into the kitchen. His voice is still heavy with sleep, rough in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You hum in response, stretching before making your way over to him. He sets his espresso down just in time to pull you against his chest pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Sleep good?” he asks.

You nod against him, relishing the warmth of his body, the way his arms wrap securely around you. “Mmm, would’ve slept better if you stayed in bed longer,” you mumble, half teasing, half serious.

Austin grins, his lips brushing over your forehead. “I tried. But I figured I’d make breakfast instead.”

He gestures toward the counter, where he’s already set out eggs, toast, and fresh fruit.

Your smile up at him lovingly and he smirks. “Go sit,” he says, nudging you toward the stool by the counter. “I’ll make you an espresso.”

You obey, watching him move around the kitchen with practiced ease. The smell of coffee fills the space, mingling with the scent of fresh toast, and for a moment, everything feels perfect—easy, familiar, yours.

“Oh,” Austin says casually, pouring steamed milk into your espresso, the delicate swirl of foam rising to the top. “Callum’s staying for a week.”

Your fork pauses mid air, your eyes snapping to him in disbelief.

“Callum Turner?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly.

Austin smirks, setting the espresso in front of you. “Yeah. Callum Turner.”

Your brain runs wild. First of all, it’s Callum Turner: British, charming, and the embodiment of effortlessly cool. Second of all, it’s Callum Turner staying in your house for a week!

“How did this happen ?” you ask, setting your fork down.

Austin grins at your enthusiasm. “Few days ago. Said he wanted a place to stay that felt more comfortable than a hotel during his visit to the U.S.”

You blink at him in disbelief still processing the information. “What made you say yes?”

Austin leans back his smirk widening seeing how invested you are in Callum’s visit, studying you as if you should already know the answer.

“It’s Callum,” he says simply, grinning as if that explains everything.

The day Callum arrives, the house feels brighter somehow. Maybe it’s his energy, or maybe it’s the way his British accent fills the air, every word of his heavy with charm.

The moment his tall imposing figure steps through the front door his face lights up.

“Austin!” He beams, stepping into the living room “It’s been ages mate. When will you learn to use your cellphone?” Callum jokes his voice a mix of sarcasm and affection.

Austin rolls his eyes but grins. “You’re here aren’t you?” he fires back, though it’s clear from his hug how much he’s missed him.

Callum looks different from the last time you’ve seen him. He’s bulked up broad shoulders, thick arms, and a confidence that radiates effortlessly. His smile is dazzling, his blue eyes magnetic, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous in his presence.

“There she is!” Callum exclaims, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and lifting you clear off the ground. His body feels solid and warm, and for a moment, you’re utterly speechless.

“Austin’s favorite little thing—he never stops going on about you y’know,” he murmurs his accent making the words sound impossibly smooth. He bounces you lightly in his arms, a playful grin on his face, before setting you down gently.

Your cheeks burn as you smooth your skirt, trying to regain composure. “It’s nice to see you too, Callum,” you manage, your voice lighter than usual your face blushing pink.

Austin raises an eyebrow at Callum. “Man-handling her already” he chides, but there’s a warmth in his voice.

Callum grins, unbothered. “She likes it don’t you love?” He says slinging his Louis Vuitton duffle bag over his shoulder.

You quickly change subjects feeling their attention on you. “That’s a beautiful bag Callum,” you say, nodding toward it.

Callum glances back with a boyish grin. “Thanks. I’m the house ambassador now. Perks of the job,” he says casually, before disappearing down the hall with Austin leading him to the guest bedroom.

The days pass in a blur of activity. Austin and Callum fall into their old rhythm, talking about everything from filming Masters of the Air to Callum’s streak of successes. You try to stay out of their way, giving them space to catch up, but they won’t have it, insisting you join them at every opportunity.

You spend more time with them than you expect: grabbing coffee at Austin’s favorite cafe, late-night dinners downtown, and even watching movies together at night.

At the cafe, Callum insists on ordering a new drink for you, his smirk playful as he leans in. “You trust me, don’t you, love?” he grins, effortlessly.

Austin watches, amused, sipping his latte. “If she hates it, you’re drinking it.”

Callum just laughs, unfazed. “Oh, she won’t hate it. I know exactly what she needs.” he says smoothly, his smirk widening as he hands the order over.

Minutes later, the barista sets the drink in front of you a creamy espresso concoction topped with a hint of cinnamon. Callum watches you intently, his eyes glinting with anticipation as you lift the cup to your lips.

The first sip is rich, warm, the cinnamon teasing at the edges of your taste buds. You let it linger before swallowing, considering it.

“Mm it’s really good” you admit your eyes lighting up as you lick your lips.

Callum practically beams, his excitement unshakable. “See? I told you, Austin! I knew she’d like it. She’s such a good girl, isn’t she?”

His voice is smooth, teasing, the words rolling off his tongue like honey—almost as if he knows thats Austin’s secret name for you—the one that has you doing everything he says.

Austin chokes on his latte.

You whip your head toward him, watching as he hastily wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His brows lift, his eyes flicking between you and Callum, his smirk unmistakable.

“Subtle, Callum,” Austin remarks under his breath, and that’s when you realize.

Callum knows you like to be called good girl—and Austin is the one who told him.

Callum grins, his gaze knowing and assessing as he looks at you. “She is a very good girl, aren’t you, love?” he teases, leaning back in his chair, enjoying the way your cheeks flush with heat at the words.

Austin’s eyes flick between the two of you, his smirk deepening as if he already knows what’s happening.

But he doesn’t say anything more—he just tilts his head slightly, as if he’s waiting to see just how far Callum will push it.

Later that week the three of you dress up and head to dinner downtown, stepping into a restaurant that radiates quiet luxury, the kind of place where celebrities frequent, the atmosphere opulent and effortlessly exclusive.

Austin walks beside you, his hand settling at the small of your back, his eyes unable to leave you. He’s been like this all evening, soft smiles, lingering glances, the kind of attention that makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room.

The host leads you through the restaurant, past sleek candle lit tables, until you reach a private corner table with plush chairs, and a perfect view of the city skyline beyond the floor to ceiling windows.

You take a soft inhale, your lips parting slightly in awe as you take it all in. “Wow, this is so beautiful,” you compliment, seeing the city lights shimmering like diamonds in the distance.

Austin, pulls your chair for you, his fingertips brushing your waist as he helps you settle in. “Not as beautiful as you,” he says, his voice soft and sincere as he takes the seat beside you.

“You’re absolutely stunning tonight.” Callum adds taking his seat across the table, and you smile softly looking between them, the warmth of their attention sending a flutter through your chest.

“You two are going to make my ego unbearable,” you tease, but there’s no denying how good it feels to be adored by both of them.

As the waiter pours the first round of drinks, you settle into the moment, letting the atmosphere wrap around you as you enjoy their company.

“These past few days have been unforgettable,” you say, looking at them both. “I’ve really loved having you here, Callum. It’s been so much fun.”

Callum lifts his drink, his grin boyish and effortless. “That’s what I’m here for, love—keep things interesting.” he teases, then he pauses, his gaze drifting over you, lingering in a way that feels both playful and intentional.

“But between the three of us,” he muses, tilting his glass slightly, “I think you’re the one making this week unforgettable.”

Austin smirks, his fingers tracing down his glass. “The truth,” he murmurs, his blue eyes flicking toward you full of mischief.

You shake your head, but the way both of them are watching you makes a warmth settle in your chest. You grin, and for a moment as you sit between them, you feel it again—that undeniable pull, the unspoken energy tangling between the three of you.

During dinner, the conversation flows effortlessly, the laughter rising between bites of perfectly plated dishes. The wine keeps coming, no ones glass is ever empty for long, and with every drink, the energy around the table becomes looser, warmer.

Austin leans back in his chair, his arm stretched casually behind you, his fingers lightly tracing over your shoulder as Callum sits across from you, already a flushed, his grin a little wider, his words a little smoother.

Callum watches you just long enough for you to notice before tilting his head smiling. “You really light up when you laugh.” He says, his voice low and easy, but there’s something beneath it—something intentional.

You feel it—the weight of their attention as if the air between you all has shifted into something deeper, unspoken. Your gaze flickers between them, Austin’s thumb grazing slow circles against your arm, Callum’s eyes never leaving yours.

Austin’s gaze lingers on you, his blue eyes darkening just slightly, something unreadable flickering behind them.

“She does, doesn’t she?” he muses, his voice smooth, teasing.

His fingers press just a little firmer against your skin as he slowly leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s effortless, intoxicating, and just when you start to drift into it, Austin pulls back only slightly, his breath warm against your lips, his gaze locked onto yours.

Callum watches, his grin lazy, almost knowing as he knocks back the rest of the drink.

By the time you arrive home, you barely have time to say “Good night Callum” before Austin is taking your hand and leading you down the hall to the master bedroom.

He pushes the door open with purpose, pulling you inside before kicking it shut behind him leaving Callum standing in the hall.

Austin’s is firm and unyielding as his body presses flush against yours and his mouth claims yours with urgency.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his lips are devouring you, his hands already tugging at the straps of your dress.

With one swift motion, he pulls it down your shoulders, his fingers trailing hot against your skin, as it falls to the floor leaving you in only lace panties.

His eyes drink you in, dark and hungry, his breath shallow and heated as his fingertips trace over your hips before gripping them possessively.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pants his voice tense with need and before you can react, he’s guiding you back, your legs feeling the edge of the bed as his takes you down onto it.

He settles at your waist his hands spreading your thighs apart, his weight pinning you just enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down in one swift motion, his breath hot against your skin.

The first flick of his tongue sends a jolt through you, pleasure striking fast, your back arching instantly.

“Austin!” you gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as the heat coils deep inside you, sharp and undeniable.

He doesn’t ease you into it—he devours you with intensity driven on every intent to wreck you.

His tongue moves in deep torturous strokes, teasing, pressing harder, curling, sucking, his mouth sealing over you as if he can’t get enough.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as you try to move—but there’s nowhere to go, no escape from the relentless onslaught of his tongue diving into you.

Your head falls back as you moan loudly, your body desperate, trembling as the pleasure coils tighter, sharper. He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and your cries spill freely, breathless and needy.

He feels it—how close you are, how you’re teetering on the brink,and he only pushes harder, flicking his tongue faster, sucking deeper, his fingers digging into your skin as he pushes you over the edge.

And when you finally break, when your body shatters against his mouth, you moan his name as he rides out each wave, lapping up every bit of your arousal, dragging your pleasure higher, deeper, until you’re nothing but a trembling, mess beneath him.

He doesn’t waste a second as you lay there, breathless, he’s already undoing his belt, his movements urgent, almost frantic.

He shoves his pants down, unbuttoning his shirt in a rush, the fabric falling to the floor as he climbs over you, his body pressing on yours instantly.

His lips find your neck in hot open-mouthed kisses, his breath ragged against your skin as he sucks harder, deeper creating a bruise. You can feel his cock, thick and hard, pulsing with need, and before you can catch your breath, he grips your hips and pushes in to you all at once.

The shock of fullness has you gasping, your back arching, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

“Austin!” you cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden depth feeling the sheer intensity of him inside you.

He lifts his head his blue eyes burning into yours, his jaw tight as he restrains himself.

“Say my name,” he commands,his voice rough with need.

“Austin” you moan for him, and he pushes forward in deep, deliberate strokes, his hips pressing flush against you, his body pinning you in place. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, doesn’t ease you into it—he just wants to feel you come for him.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling them apart wider as he drives deeper, his rhythm unrelenting. Moans spill from your lips over and over again, the pleasure building too sharp, too fast.

He tilts your hips, angling just right, his hips snapping, every thrust sending white-hot surges of pleasure ripping through you.

His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles.

“That’s it…baby…give it to me. Let me hear you …come.” He says his voice breathless with need.

Your voice is strained as you moan, barely holding yourself together. He watches every reaction, every spasm of your body, every shuddering breath—knowing completely what makes you fall apart.

And then it happens.

The tension inside you breaks the pleasure crashing over you in a surging waves, your body clenching tightly around his cock, your moans breaking into something raw, uncontrolled.

Austin groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as he fights through your release, enduring it, dragging it out, his thrusts harder, faster, his name still spilling from your lips, exactly how he wanted.

With a firm deep thrust, he comes, his abs pulling up, his moans breaking into breathless pants. His release pulses deep inside of you, his body rocking helplessly against you as he shudders through the overwhelming pleasure.

His breath is hot against your skin, his hips grinding slower, deeper, anchoring himself to you as his moans spill freely feeling the last waves of his climax overtake him.

When it’s finally over, when your body lays trembling beneath him, he doesn’t move instead, he strokes your face, his fingers tracing softly over your heated skin.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, his gaze searching yours, as his touch drifts lower, tracing over the curve of your jaw. “I love you” he says breathlessly.

You smile up at him stroking his jaw affectionately. “I love you too,” you pant, still catching your breath.

Austin exhales slowly, his fingers trailing through your hair, his eyes holding something deep, something unspoken. “There’s so much I want to give you,” he reveals, his voice low and thoughtful.

You blink up at him, sensing a shift, the weight of his words settling between you. “You already do,” you whisper, brushing your lips softly against his, completely unaware of the thoughts running through his mind as you kiss him.

The following night, you and Austin decide to make Callum’s favorite meal—shepherd’s pie and roasted vegetables. The kitchen fills with warmth, the rich aroma of roasted herbs and butter drifting through the air as the two of you work together, laughing and moving easily around each other.

When you finally set the dish in front of Callum, his face lights up, eyes gleaming under the soft glow of the dining room lights. “You’ve outdone yourselves,” he says, raising a glass to you both. “I might never leave.”

Austin grins, cutting into his meal. “You say that, but I know you’d miss London too much.”

“Maybe,” Callum muses, looking at you over the rim of his glass before taking a slow sip. “But I’m starting to see the appeal of staying in America.”

You glance at Austin, but he just smirks, his eyes flicking between the two of you before taking another bite.

“You know, Austin never stops talking about you when you’re apart,” Callum teases, his voice smooth, effortlessly confident.

“Really?” you grin, turning to Austin, who suddenly seems more interested in his plate as his cheeks tinge pink.

“Oh yeah,” Callum nods, his tone both playful and sincere. “Took me a while to realize he wasn’t exaggerating.”

A heat creeps up your face at his words, the air between you shifting, charged with something you can’t quite define—but Austin only grins as if this is all wildly amusing to him.

After dinner, the three of you settle into the living room, the soft glow of the film The Beach flickering across the screen, casting warm, golden shadows around the room.

You sit between them, nestled against Austin’s side, his arm draped around you absentminded tracing circles along your shoulder, as Callum sprawls out on your other, completely at ease watching the film.

Callum leans back, stretching an arm across the cushions behind you, his gaze flicking toward you with a smirk.

“Alright, be honest,” he muses his voice teasing, “Who do you think would take better care of you on a deserted island like that? Me or Austin?”

Austin exhales a quiet sigh, shaking his head, his voice smooth and knowing. “Callum, you’re setting yourself up.”

Callum grins wider. “No, I really want to hear the answer from her.”

You glance between them, your stomach flipping under the weight of their attention. “Austin,” you say, smiling, and he pulls you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple, his smirk deepening.

Callum laughs, undeterred. “Think about it though love. Who’s more resourceful? Hunting, gathering, building a shelter?…”

Austin grins in amusement, his blue eyes flickering with something more knowing. “Why would we compete to take care of her? He discerns, his tone suggestive. “When we could just work together?”

Callum chuckles in approval. “What, like a survival throuple?”

Austin grins. “Exactly, now you’re getting it.”

You roll your eyes shaking your head, but the way both of them begin to look at you sends a flutter through your stomach.

You’ve slowly begun to catch on that they’re planning something—you can feel it. The way Austin lets Callum push boundaries, the way Callum charms you at every chance… and the way Austin allows it all to happen.

On the final day of the visit you stand in front of the living room mirror, checking your out fit one last time, ready to head out for the night.

Callum, sits sprawled out on the couch, watching you with an easy grin, his eyes lingering , slow and easy, taking in every detail.

“You’re far too pretty to put up with Austin’s moods,” Callum teases as Austin groans, unable to find his favorite leather jacket.

You smile, brushing it off, but Callum’s confidence is unshakable.

“You know,” he leans forward, his voice dropping just enough to be enticing “If he gets into a really bad mood tonight, we can sneak off together, teach him a lesson for behaving that’ll make him never forget his manners.”

You shake your head grinning “You think you're the one to teach Austin a lesson on misbehaving ?” You counter.

Callum grins, slow and teasing. “Mmm I’d be so good at it.” He confirms.

You roll your eyes just as Austin finally finds his jacket, holding it up with a triumphant sigh.

“You two over there conspiring against me now?” he says, shrugging it on as he looks between you both.

“Maybe,” Callum muses, standing up and pulling the hem of his shirt.

Austin ignores him, adjusting the collar of his jacket with an exaggerated sigh. “Great. Now let’s get this over with.”

“The infamous Luis Vuitton Cruise show ” Callum muses, his grin widening.

Austin groans dramatically, already dreading it. “A high-end fashion event with nothing but paparazzi, practiced conversation, and people getting really into bizarre shit.” He exhales sharply.

Callum grins, completely at ease. “Oh, Austin I love that shit.” He confirms.

Austin shoots him a look breaking into a grin. “Of course you do.”

You smile enjoying their banter, and before you know it, Callum’s arm drapes around your shoulder smug and easy. “All I’m saying is, if Austin gets too grumpy during this, we can still sneak off together, yeah?” he says, his smile infectious.

You glance at Austin, waiting for his reaction but he just smirks, shaking his head as he grabs his phone. “You two are trouble.” He says, his voice amused.

The three of you step out of the car onto the stone entryway of the Salk Institute in La Jolla, the air crisp with ocean breeze, the sky streaked with hues of deep blue and gold as the sun begins to set.

The Louis Vuitton Cruise Show looms ahead, sleek and sophisticated, with floodlights illuminating the brutalist architecture, casting long, dramatic shadows over the crowd of fashion elites.

The atmosphere is filled with exclusivity, flashes from photographers, murmurs of stylists, and the ever-present hum of curated perfection.

Austin walks on your right, his fingers casually grazing your lower back as Callum stays on your left, looking effortlessly charming in his suit and tee, already scanning the scene with a knowing smirk.

You feel stunning, the pleated mini skirt Austin bought for you weeks ago moves with every step you take. Paired with your heels and a sleek top, you know you’ll turns heads the moment you step onto the scene especially with two handsome gentlemen escorting you.

And if you weren’t sure of it—Austin and Callum make it painfully obvious.

Callum’s eyes wander over your legs as he shakes his head. “You sure you want to take her in there, Austin?” he muses. “You’ll have to fight off half the room.”

Austin doesn’t even try to hide his smirk, but his gaze flicks down to your skirt again. He hasn’t stopped looking at it since you got in the car. And the way his eyes darken slightly tells you everything you need to know.

“She can do whatever she likes,” Austin muses, smoothly taking your hand in his. “Not my fault if people get distracted.”

Callum scoffs, tilting his head. “Austin you’re distracted.”

Austin huffs a short laugh, but doesn’t deny it.

As you approach the red carpet, your stomach flutters with anxiety, your pulse hammering in your ears.

The flashes of cameras are blinding, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and chatter, as celebrities and fashion elites move through the entryway.

Austin’s fingers tighten briefly in your hand, a silent reassurance, while Callum is at your side, adjusting the cuffs of his suit, looking completely at ease.

The photographers begin to call out, their voices overlapping—

“Austin! Over here!” “Look this way!” “Callum, give us a smile!”

You and Austin take the first set of photos together, his hand warm against your waist, his charisma in full effect.

He’s done this a thousand times before, his look effortless, and when he glances at you between flashes, there’s something else in his expression that shows his adoration for you.

Next, Callum steps up for his solo shots, his grin turning cheeky as he shifts between serious and playful poses. The energy around him shifts, he’s charming without trying, flashing a wink here, adjusting his stance there.

Finally, the three of you are called together, and Callum immediately changes the tone, stepping between you and Austin with an exaggerated flourish, wrapping an arm around both of you.

“C’mon, let’s give them a show,” he teases, leaning in slightly.

Austin shakes his head, clearly entertained. “You’re a menace.”

Callum smirks. “And yet, you invite me places.”

With one last series of flashes, the photographers thank you, and you step off the red carpet, the moment settling in.

Inside, the ambiance is even more exclusive. The Salk Institute’s brutalist architecture contrasts sharply with the elegance of the show. Spotlights cast dramatic beams over the sleek runway, the seats lined with luxury invitations perfectly arranged.

The three of you take your seats front row, surrounded by other celebrities, designers, and fashion insiders.

As the show starts, the Louis Vuitton Collection is displayed with sharp, avant garde silhouettes, intricate embroidery, and flowing structured fabrics.

Models strut confidently along the minimalist runway, the music pulsating through the space.

Champagne flutes appear before you, served on silver trays, and you quickly realize, you won’t have an empty glass the entire night.

Austin sits beside you, his arms resting across his chest, his legs crossed. He occasionally leans in, speaking softly against your ear, small remarks about the designs, the lighting, the people around you.

Callum is thoroughly enjoying himself. He sips his champagne slowly, watching the show with genuine appreciation, occasionally gesturing toward a look he likes. At one point, he nudges you, whispering, “That one, I could easily see you in that one.”

You roll your eyes but smile feeling a warmth spreading through your chest.

Between the rich ambiance, endless flow of champagne, and the presence of both men beside you, you can’t help but feel it—tonight is the beginning of something.

And by the way Austin keeps glancing toward you, and Callum’s smirk lingers just a second too long, you know they feel it too.

After the show when you arrive back home, the three of you step into the house, the cool air inside a stark contrast to the lingering warmth of the night.

The Louis Vuitton show had been an experience, intoxicating in more ways than one.

The endless champagne, the flashing cameras, the whispered conversations with designers and celebrities. And now, as you sway slightly in the dimly lit entryway, you realize just how much champagne you had.

A quiet giggle escapes your lips as you reach out, steadying yourself by placing a hand on Austin and Callum’s shoulders.

Austin smirks, catching the movement instantly. “Someone’s had a little too much fun tonight,” he says, his hands instinctively coming to your waist, steadying you.

Callum chuckles, his tone more matter of fact.“Or just too much champagne,” he teases, his eyes flicking over to Austin.

You exhale a slow breath, your fingers tightening slightly on their shoulders for balance as Austin kneels down first, his hands trailing over your calf before he begins unbuckling one of your heels. His touch slow and careful.

Callum follows suit, kneeling on the other side, his fingers easily working on the strap of your other heel. His thumb grazing along the inside of your ankle.

“You guys are —so nice,” you mumble, your voice slightly drunk as you look down at them.

Austin huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he slips the heel from your foot setting it aside. “Yeah? Keep sweet-talking us, baby.”

Callum smirks up at you, his fingers lingering against your skin a second too long, tilting his head slightly as he slides the second heel off.

Your cheeks burn under their attention, and you suddenly feel very aware of how intimate this is. The two of them kneeled before you, their hands on your legs, the air between you thick with something else.

Austin rises first, standing close, his hands smoothing up your sides, his blue eyes locked onto yours. “You okay, baby?” he asks, his voice low, intimate, a quiet promise lingering in the way he looks at you.

Callum follows, standing beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

They exchange a look—something silent, something intentional.

Your breath catches as you glance between them, the air in the entryway suddenly heavy, pressing in from all sides. The space feels smaller, the air charged under the weight of their attention.

“I’m okay,” you manage, though your voice is softer now, breathier.

Austin tilts his head, studying you, his gaze dropping to your lips then slowly he leans in and kisses you, his lips warm and soft, tasting faintly of champagne.

The moment Austin’s hand slides down your back, you feel Callum’s touch.

His fingers ghost along your waist, his breath warm at your neck before he presses his lips on you too, the contrast of them sending a surge of pleasure through you so impossibly good it feels sinful.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips, your body pressed between them as they move in unison—Austin claiming your lips, Callum kissing down your neck.

Austin’s hand roams lower, slipping past the waistband of your skirt, the heat of his palm pressing firmly between your legs.

He takes his time, his fingers moving with slow, deliberate pressure, teasing your clit through the fabric. He watches you closely, his lips hovering over yours, waiting for your reaction.

Your breath hitches, your body softening at the sensation, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

His hand slips into your panties, his fingers sliding over your slickness finding you completely soaked, your wetness coating his fingertips as he groans softly against your lips

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze darkened as he easily pushes two fingers inside of you, watching every catch of your breath, every shiver that rolls through your body.

Your lips part in a soft moan feeling the press of his knuckles as his fingers settle deep inside, the pleasure immediate, undeniable.

The sound catches Callum’s attention, and he pulls back just enough to see your reaction.

Austin’s fingers move in slow, precise thrusts within you, his lips brushing against yours as he kisses you again.

Callum’s hands moves to your top pulling down the hem, his hand gliding over your chest before moving lower and cupping your breast firmly.

His mouth is hot against your skin as he lowers his head, his tongue flicking your nipple, drawing sharp gasps from you.

You barely have time to react before he draws your nipple into his mouth his tongue circling it with firm strokes.

Your breath stutters, your knees nearly buckling as Austin works you open from below while Callum takes his time above, both of them completely in sync, completely focused on you.

Your fingers grip onto Austin’s shoulders, then Callum’s hair, needing to hold onto something as pleasure swells inside you, making you weak.

You try to stay upright, but with every touch, every kiss, every press of their hands and mouths—standing becomes impossible.

Your knees tremble, thighs clenching around Austin’s hand as his fingers thrust deeper, slick with evidence of just how easily you’re surrendering to them.

Callum hums against your chest, his lips sucking your nipple firmer as his tongue rolls in slow, deliberate strokes. He groans as he sucks, pulling with greedy satisfaction, his teeth grazing just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure down your spine.

The sensation coils tightly inside you, winding you up, making your breath hitch in soft, helpless little gasps.

Austin watches you intently, his blue eyes dark, focused, enthralled by every shudder, every whimper slipping from your lips.

His free hand rests heavy on your hip, keeping you exactly where he wants as he begins to curl his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect place over and over until your body convulses around him. “That’s it baby—give it to us.” He encourages thrusting faster.

Your moan is barely a sound, more of a breathless, strangled cry as the pleasure crashes over you. Your thighs squeeze around Austin’s wrist, your body locking up as your orgasm tears through you. Callum pulls back just enough to watch, his lips parting as he sees how helpless you are.

“Just, look at her,” Callum breathes, his fingers sliding up your side as he takes in the way you tremble, your body consumed with pleasure. “She looks so fucking pretty when she comes.”

Austin slows the movement of his hand, dragging out every last moment before withdrawing his fingers now glistening.

He lifts them to your lips, watching as you part instinctively, tasting yourself on them.

“Good girl,” Austin praises, his voice smooth as he brushes his thumb against your lower lip, his eyes dark with intent.

Then he glances over at Callum, something unspoken passing between them before his gaze returns to you, heavy and full of meaning.

“Come to bed,” he says to both of you, his voice low and certain.

Your eyes widen, flicking to Callum, whose smirk deepens with knowing amusement as Austin offers you his hand.

Callum watches, waiting for you to decide—waiting for you to step into whatever comes next.

And as your fingers slide into Austin’s palm, Callum’s hand grazes the small of your back, the three of you heading to the bedroom together as you realize—

They’ve planned this all along.

Austin guides you and in and Callum closes the door behind you knowing this is exactly what they have been waiting for.

The bed dips on either side as the three of you lay down together.

The warmth of them surrounds you as Austin places a soft kiss on your left wrist and Callum presses against your right side trailing his lips along the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

The room is dim, but the heat between the three of you is undeniable. Austin’s hand trails along your arm, his touch slow and delicate, as Callum,breathes against you, his lips grazing your jawline.

“Relax for us baby,” Austin says, his voice low and steady.

Callum’s voice follows, softer, teasing. “We’ve been waiting all week for this,” he admits, his fingers tracing the back of your hand. “Tell us you want this too.”

Your heart races, your body humming with anticipation as you glance between them. Austin’s eyes are filled with something intuitive, something reassuring, but Callum’s are far darker, searching, waiting.

Austin tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing along your bottom lip. “We’ll only do this if you want to,” he admits, his gaze flicking toward Callum briefly.

Your breath is shallow, lips parting instinctively as your gaze shifts between them. “I—” Your voice catches, the reality of the moment crashing over you. “I want this”

Austin grins kissing you immediately, his lips pressing against yours with a reassurance that melts away any hesitation.

Then you feel Callum, impossibly close his breath ghosts over your cheek before Austin pulls back just enough to let Callum’s lips linger near yours.

Callum hesitates, watching you, as if waiting for permission. Austin smirks slightly, his voice playful but firm. “She’s already thinking about it.” He says.

Callum doesn’t need to be told twice, his lips collide with yours, different from Austin, hungrier, firmer, coaxing. The contrast between them sends a shiver down your spine, and when Austin’s lips move to your neck, your mind blanks completely.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” Callum murmurs against your lips, his accent thick and rough. His hand settles on your waist, fingers curling slightly. “Knew you’d be trouble.”

Austin chuckles against your skin. “She’s the best kind of trouble.” He says as his lips press just below your ear. “And now she’s ours.”

Callum’s hand slides over your waist, fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. “I want to see all of you.” He says.

Austin’s fingers brush your cheek before trailing down your collarbone, his voice a low murmur against your skin. “Let’s get you out of this, baby.” He says hooking his fingers under the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion, the fabric slipping away effortlessly, leaving your skin bare to them.

Austins hands drift lower, tracing the curve of your waist before finding the hem of your pleated mini skirt. His fingers hook beneath the fabric, and with one fluid motion, he tugs down your panties and skirt together, the soft material gliding over your hip and down your thighs until it’s tossed aside.

Austin gaze darken as he takes you in and Callum leans back slightly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you filled with lust.

“Fuck,” Callum exhales, running a hand down your thigh, his pupils blown wide. “Austin, shes perfect.”

Austin smirks, his hands sliding down your sides. “I know” he says.

Callum’s hands join Austin’s, his touch unfamiliar but electrifying as he traces along your ribcage. You shiver under their attention, the feeling of four hands exploring your skin leaving you breathless.

Your hands reach for them instinctively, finding the hem of Callum’s shirt first. You slide it up, and he grins, before tugging it over his head.

The moment his chest is exposed, your breath catches—he’s even more defined than you expected, strong and solid, his skin warm under your fingertips. You run your hands over his broad shoulders, his muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Austin, pulls his own shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Your eyes flick between them, your hands touching both of them instinctively trailing over the contrast—Austin’s familiar, muscular form and Callum’s broader, slightly rougher build. Your fingers explore the dips and lines of their chests, the heat of them making your head spin.

“Do you like this?” Austin teases, his lips brushing your ear as his hands slide down your arm.

Callum smirks, watching your stunned reaction. “I think she does.” His voice dips lower as his fingers tilt your chin up.“But I want to hear you say it.”

Your lips part, your body already trembling under their attention. “I love it,” you whisper, your fingers pressing into their skin. “I love everything about this.”

Austin’s mouth lowers onto yours as Callum’s lips find the soft spot just below your jaw, and as their hands move over you, exploring, claiming, you realize just how much they’ve been waiting for this, and just how much you want it, too.

Callum moves closer, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. His large hands start at your waist, his thumbs pressing into the dips of your hips before slowly gliding upward, exploring the curves of your ribs and the soft swell of your breasts.

His palms are rougher than Austin’s, his touch more possessive, his fingers kneading teasingly. “You’re so soft,” he whispers, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You gasp against Austin’s lips as Callum’s fingers roll over your nipples, pinching lightly, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure shooting through you.

Austin smirks against your mouth, feeling the way you react. “You like this so much don’t you?” he teases, and you nod as his hand slides up, cupping your other breast firmly. The hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh telling you just how much he’s enjoying this too.

Callum’s hand moves lower, tracing over your hip, his fingertips skimming the space between your thighs. You whimper as he parts your legs slightly, his fingertips grazing against your heat.

“Fuck, she’s already so wet,” he groans, his voice laced with both awe and satisfaction.

He strokes slowly, gathering your arousal on his fingers then spreading it over your swollen clit in teasing circles.

Austin pulls back slightly, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, filled with lust as he watches you tremble between them. “You feel good baby?” he asks softly, his thumbs stroking your chin.

Your breath is shallow, your body humming with pleasure as Callum continues to tease you. “Yes,” you gasp “I’m so good.”

Austin grins, his lips brushing over yours before he moves lower, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your nipple.

Callum, presses his hard cock against your hip, his lips warm and teasing as he leans in to kiss you passionately. His fingers between your legs move with more purpose, pressing into you just enough to make you whimper.

“Listen to her,” Callum groans, his lips curling into a smirk against yours. “She sounds so fucking pretty when she moans.”

Austin grins, his tongue swirling around your nipple lightly. “That’s because she’s perfect,” he says, his voice vibrating against your skin.

Callum groans in agreement, his hand tightening on your waist as his fingers stroke deeper, each touch making you tremble more.

“She’s ours tonight.” Callum says as his fingers move with agonizing precision, his strokes slow and deliberate as he spreads your slickness over your sensitive clit before sliding down, teasing your entrance.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, “You’re so fucking wet you’re dripping for us.” His tone is dark, edged with satisfaction as he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them just right, pressing against a spot that makes your whole body spasm.

Austin hums against your skin at your reaction, his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking lightly before flicking his tongue over the hardened peak.

His free hand cups your other breast, kneading gently, his thumb rolling over your nipple before pinching it lightly. His movements are slow, sensual, designed to draw every reaction out of you as he teases and torments, alternating between soft licks and firmer sucks.

Callum’s fingers work you open, his pace maddeningly steady, stroking deep, curling inside you with every thrust. His lips trace the line of your jaw as his fingers press against the perfect spot that has you falling apart as your hips writhe in pleasure . “I can feel you clenching around me. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You nod panting as your hips roll instinctively against his hand. As you begin to moan loudly Austin pulls away just enough to watch your face, his lips glistening as he grins in satisfaction. “She’s going to come.” He confirms.

Callum chuckles against your skin, as his fingers thrust deeper, his thumb pressing circles over your clit. “Come on, love,” he coaxes, his voice husky, his breath fanning against your cheek. “Let go for us. Let us see you come.”

Austin’s mouth closes around your nipple again sucking harder as his teeth nip lightly on the sensitive peak sending another surge of pleasure straight to your core.

The combined sensations are too much—Callum’s relentless fingers working inside you, Austin’s warm, wet mouth sucking your nipple, the deep, commanding sounds of their voices unraveling every last thread of your restraint.

Your body tenses, the pleasure cresting like a wave as a choked gasp escapes your lips.

Your thighs tremble as you orgasm your body shuddering from the intensity. “That’s it love,” Callum groans, his fingers not letting up, working you through every last tremor. “So fucking beautiful.”

Austin watches you with dark, hungry eyes, his mouth leaving your nipple to press hot kisses up your throat. “So perfect, baby,” he murmurs, soothing you as your body trembles between them.

Callum slows his movements, his fingers slipping out of you with a satisfied hum. He brings them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he licks them clean. “You taste incredible,” he praises, his expression full of sinful delight.

Austin smirks, kissing your lips softly, his voice full of pride. “And we’re just getting started.”

Austin presses one last lingering kiss against your lips before guiding you up gently, his hands on your waist as he shifts you to kneel in the middle of the bed between them.

Your body is still trembling from the pleasure they’ve already given you, your mind hazy, dizzy with arousal as Austin’s voice, low and firm, pulls you back into focus.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking lazy circles over your hips as he positions you between them. “You’re going to make both of us feel as good as we just made you feel.”

You’re delirious with pleasure, as they leave the bed to undress your body humming with heat as you watch them, unable to form words.

They’re movement are hypnotic as they pull off their pants and boxers.

Austin body is sculpted, carved from years of dedication, his smooth skin taut over his defined muscles. His cock stands thick and firm, flushed a deep, eager pink, the tip already glistening with precum. Hes impossibly hard, the veins along his shaft prominent and pulsing with need.

Callum, in contrast, is built broader, his chest and shoulders more solid, his thighs thick and powerful. His cock is darker, a shade richer against his paler skin, with a heavy weight to it, the curve of it distinct as he strokes himself, his grip tight.

They stand before you, both, naked both hard, both utterly focused on you. The air is charged with heat and anticipation, the weight of the moment settling in your chest as your thighs press together instinctively and Austin smirks catching the movement.

“You like what you see, baby?” He says as he kneels beside you on the bed, his fingers grazing along your jaw, tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

Callum chuckles lowly, his voice teasing as he settles on the other side of you, his body radiating heat.

“She definitely does,” he muses, his smirk widening. “You can see it all over her face.”

Austin runs his hand down the curve of your back, his touch soothing. “You look so fucking perfect like this,” he praises and as Callum touches you too they both trail their hands lower taking turns to glide their fingers through your wetness, spreading your arousal with slow, teasing strokes.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Callum as he tilts your chin up and kisses you hard, his lips demanding, his tongue slipping past your teeth with a hunger that makes your knees weak.

Callum brings his fingers slick with your arousal back around his cock, stroking himself firmly as he groans into your mouth.

Austin, hums at the sight, his fingers still sliding through your slickness, rubbing slow, teasing circles against your clit before slipping two fingers inside you again. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice thick with lust. “You’re dripping down your thighs.”

Callum breaks the kiss just enough to smirk, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “She’s ready for us,” he grins, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with heat and anticipation. “Aren’t you,love?”

You nod, breathless, barely able to think past the heat racing through your core.

Callum strokes his heavy cock harder his eyes watching you with a dark, knowing smirk. “You ready for me, love?” he asks, his accent making the words sound even filthier.

You nod and he grips the base of his cock, holding it steady as Austin slips his fingers from you to hold your waist. “Show us, baby,” he urges, his voice full of command and affection. “Make Callum feel just as good as you feel.”

Austin lowers you onto your hands and knees, your body still trembling from their touch, the heat between you all heavy with anticipation.

Callum smirks, his grip tightening around the base of his cock as he pulls your face closer. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs guiding his cock closer to your lips.

Austin moves behind you, his hands sliding down your back, guiding you into position as he kneels behind you on the bed.

“That’s it, baby,” Austin murmurs, his voice laced with praise as he runs his hands over the curve of your hips, gripping them firmly. “You’re gonna take us both so well.”

Callum’s fingers tilt your chin up, his smirk deepening as he watches the way you kneel waiting for them. “Open up for me, love,” he says, with intent. “Let me feel that pretty mouth of yours.”

You obey, your lips parting and slowly he pushes the head of his cock in, warm and wet as your lips wrap around it.

Your tongue swirls around the tip before your cheeks hallow and you take him deeper. Callum lets out a satisfied groan, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides you, his grip firm.

“Fuck, that’s perfect,” he breathes, his hips barely rolling forward as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

Behind you, Austin squeezes your hip as he rubs his tip along your slick entrance, teasing you, making you whimper around Callum’s cock the vibrations sending a shudder through him.

“She likes it,” Austin reveals, rubbing his cock against you again, coating himself in your arousal. “You’re so fucking ready for us aren’t you, baby.”

You moan softly, pushing back against him, desperate for more, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. Austin presses forward, his thick cock stretching you slowly, filling you inch by inch until he’s buried deep inside you.

A moan escapes you, overwhelmed by the sensation of being taken by both of them.

“That’s my girl” Austin groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he begins to move, thrusting slow and deep, his cock hitting all the right places with every roll of his hips.

Callum watches the way your eyes flutter, the way you moan around his cock as you work him with slow, eager sucks. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his voice filled with pleasure. “Taking both of us like a dream.”

The rhythm between the two of them builds, the room filled with the sound of their heavy breaths, low groans, and the wet, lewd sounds of them fucking you at both ends.

Austin’s thrusts grow deeper, more intense, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives into you.

Callum’s hand remains tangled in your hair, his hips rolling as he matches the pace of Austin, his pleasure evident in every deep, guttural moan he lets out.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Austin praises, his hands sliding up your back, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts into you harder. “So tight—so fucking wet for us.”

Callum groans, his voice low and strained. “She loves this,” he breathes, his grip on your hair tightening as his hips jerk forward. “She’s so desperate for our come, aren’t you, love?”

You whimper around him, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, your body shared between them as wave after wave of ecstasy roll through you.

Every movement, every thrust, every deep groan sends you spiraling further into bliss, your mind hazy, consumed by nothing but the way they both feel inside you, the way they own every inch of you.

Austin pace becomes unrelenting, his cock hitting the deepest, most perfect spot inside you with every thrust as you moan around Callum in bliss.

“Come for us baby,” Austin groans as his hand finds your swollen throbbing clit. “Make us all come.”

His fingers press in slow, relentless circles, amplifying the pleasure coursing through your body. The sensation is overwhelming, your walls tightening on Austin’s cock as your moans vibrate on Callum’s.

Both of their hips stutter forward, Callum’s grip tightening in your hair as he groans dangerously close to spilling over.

Your pleasure peaks as your body clenches tight, every muscle tensing as your orgasm crashes over you, forcing a strangled moan in your mouth around Callum’s cock.

The sensation is too much, too perfect, and Austin groans deeply, his thrusts faltering as he feels your wall tighten around him.

Your nails dig into the sheets being thrust hard between both of them as they use you to come, your mind blanking with nothing more than the overwhelming sensation.

“Fuck, baby,” Austin groans, his hands digging into your hips as he drives into you hard spilling inside you with a guttural moan.

Callum watches you, feeling the way you moan in pleasure as Austin comes inside you and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge.

His grip on your hair tightens, his body tensing as he lets out a deep, strained groan, his release thick and hot as he holds you in place and spills into your mouth feeling you swallow around his cock taking every last drop.

They both pull out of you at the same time, the room filled with nothing but heavy breathing, the three of you completely consumed by each other.

Austin lifts you back against him, his strong arms wrapping around you as his lips trail lingering, soft kisses along your neck.

His hands move lower to grip your hips, grounding you as his thumbs gently caresses slow, soothing circles over your skin, easing the trembling aftershocks still coursing through your body.

Callum leans in his breath still uneven as he brushes his lips over your jaw. “Took everything we gave you like you were made for us.” he whispers, his fingers sliding through your hair as he places a soft kiss.

“You were so fucking perfect, baby,” Austin whispers, his voice low and full of praise.

Callum smirks as he lays back against the pillows, his chest still heaving. Your body trembles, completely spent, your breath still coming in short, uneven gasps as Austin lowers you on the bed.

Every muscle in your body is weak, pleasure still pulsing through you in slow, rolling waves. Austin pulls you into his arms, his strong embrace wrapping around you.

His lips find your ear first, warm and soft, whispering against your skin. “You were incredible,” he praises full of affection. “So fucking perfect for us.” He says kissing you just below your jaw, then lower, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your neck, his breath warm as he soothes you with gentle touches.

Callum shifts against your other side, his body just as warm and solid behind you. His lips brush along your shoulder, slow and lazy, savoring every inch of you.

“You’re something else, love,” he murmurs, his voice rich with admiration. “Didn’t know you had that in you… but fuck, I’m glad I found out.” He grins, his lips moving in soft, teasing kisses along your shoulder as his fingers trace over your back.

Austin chuckles softly, tucking your hair behind your ear as he kisses your temple. “Tired?” he asks knowingly, his hand rubbing slow circles on your hip.

You nod weakly, barely able to keep your eyes open as exhaustion washes over you. “Mm-hmm,” you hum, melting into his embrace.

Callum smirks against your shoulder, his hand smoothing over your back. “Poor thing,” he teases, his voice laced with amusement. “We might’ve been a little too rough on her.”

Austin grins, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “No, she took us so well.” He says bringing the blanket over you and pulling you closer against him. “Just rest baby. We’ve got you.”

Callum sighs contentedly, his arm draping lazily over your waist as he nestles against your neck. “Yeah, sleep now love, because next round—I’m not holding back.” He grins.

“Guess we’ll have to keep her just between us.” Austin confirms and Callum hums in agreement.

You let out a soft, sleepy sigh, too exhausted to even respond, your body completely relaxed between them as you drift into the deepest, most satisfied sleep of your life.

END 💙💖💙

🔗 MasterList

🏷️ Always Tag Me

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @soft-mama-reads @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @gyratingpresley @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader/3 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @stars-remain2 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesticsreblog @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff

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heretoobsessstuff · 8 months ago

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My favourite scene: Gale’s last dance

Something I noticed when rewatching this scene is how the people around Buck are all watching Gale dance with meatball but Gale only looks at John. John is the only person Gale has eyes for and seems to care about watching him. When he winks at John its as if he does it to ease John’s nerves and for John to remember him this way: dancing with meatball and being happy and John looks at him as if he wants to commit every second of this to his memory.

#and the way john looks at gale #his fond face #makes me wanna cry #the love is dripping from his eyes #so sweet #and heartwrenching when you think about what happens next #mota #clegan #john egan #buck x bucky #gale cleven #austin butler #callum turner

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blackthornluce · 10 months ago

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Masters of the Air (2024) - Part Four.

#masters of the air #mastersoftheairedit #mota #motaedit #austin butler #austin butler edit #austin butler gifs #callum turner #callum turner edit #gale buck cleven #john bucky egan #buck x bucky #gifs #tv #tvedit #filmtvedit #tvfilmedit

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shockercoco · 10 months ago

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「 ✦Masterlist ✦ 」

Welcome, stay a while :) ~~ * smut ~~

Last updated: 2/14/25!

Austin Butler

Like a Snake - Feyd Rautha *

Only Pleasure Remains - Feyd Rautha *

Unconventional Confessions *

Little Do You Know

Bloodlust - Feyd Rautha*

Consequences *

Unwanted Help - Feyd Rautha

Snap Out of It

Seduction by Deception - Feyd Rautha*

No I'm Not *

What Were You Thinking

The Lucky One - Benny Cross

An Honorary Member - Benny Cross

Rainbow vs. Leather - Benny Cross

Dangerously yours - Benny Cross *

Excuse Me? - Benny Cross

Whatever It Takes - Benny Cross*

A House to a Home

Shambles - Feyd Rautha*

Callum Turner

Whiskey - Major John Egan

Modern Loneliness - Major John Egan

Cillian Murphy

Moving to Los Alamos - Oppenheimer - my 1st post

Farleigh Start

There We Go *

Untitled *

Just One More *

Glen Powell

Chasing Feelings - Tyler Owens

Nothing Like Honey* - Tyler Owens

Mike Faist

Cheer Up * - Art Donaldson

Necessary Revenge* - Art Donaldson

Sebastian Stan

Better Late Than Never - Bucky Barnes New! 2/14

Timothee Chalamet

Don't Mind Me *

I Told You So

(Each section is oldest to newest)

❀•°❀°•❀ ❀•°❀°•❀ ❀•°❀°•❀ ❀•°❀°•❀❀•°❀°•❀❀•

❀•°❀°•❀ ❀•°❀°•❀ ❀•°❀°•❀ ❀•°❀°•❀ ❀•°❀°•❀ ❀•

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winter-came · 1 month ago

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"...you know I really did believe that if there was only two B-17s left..it would be you and me flying 'em..."

#insane insane about the fact egan says [it would be me...and you]#while gale says [it would be YOU and me]#hello? hi? anyone else understanding that fuckass difference???#chewing things violently to the point of choking and dying #mota #masters of air #john egan #bucky egan #buck cleven #gale cleven #buck x bucky #callum turner #austin butler #mota edit #gale buck cleven

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frozensoldier-png · 4 months ago

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if the world was ending i'd wanna be next to youuuu~

❖

⛔️Don’t repost my art on Pinterest,Facebook, Tumblr or other similar platforms without my permission.⛔️

❖

#frozensoldierpng art #digital art #no ai art #austin butler #callum turner #callum turner fanart #austin butler fanart #mota #masters of the air #buck cleven #bucky egan #clegan #clegan fanart #buck x bucky #bucky x buck #artist on tumblr

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therealslimshakespeare · 1 year ago

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Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

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theleft0ver · 4 months ago

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Buck and Bucky eye fucking at the breakfast table:

[TENDER MUSIC PLAYING]

Jack Kidd next to them:

#buck cleven #bucky egan #clegan #buck x bucky #gale buck cleven #john bucky egan #mota #austin butler #callum turner #jack kidd #MOTA meme

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carnevol · 1 year ago

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Callum?? Oh you're awful!

#austin butler #callum turner #masters of the air #interview #major gale cleven #major john egan #mota #mota spoilers #I never thought it could be him!#imaginaryplaythings #you were right!#I don't want my buckies to fight #wouldn't it be sweet though if Bucky felt so guilty after that #buck x bucky #burner

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austinbutlerslovers · 1 year ago

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Bucked & Fxcked

Label Mature 18+

Finding out there is a military deployment party at the live music hall across from your college immediately entices you and your room mate. Bored with college boys you each excitedly plan to snag and shag a handsome soldier for the night, but when you lay eyes on two of the most handsome and suave majors you have ever seen in your life you can’t decide which one you want more. They both tease and seduce you in ways that get you so hot between the legs you flirtatiously admit you wish you could have both.

Upon hearing your words and realizing they won't get an opportunity like this with such a beautiful dame again they come to an agreement, they'll share you. They bring you back to their base in one of the Majors offices locking the door and double tapping you with pleasure the entire night.

No established relationship

Groping•objectification•degradation •fingering• biting• gspot fem •nippleplay •clitplay•restraint •threesome•oral sex m/f• P in V •sex on a desk• oral sex f/m• multiple orgasms •simultaneous orgasms•squirting • bukkake (2 males ejaculate on female )• cum eating• after care

Inspo: needing to be Fxcked by both Bucks 🥵

~*Bucked & Fxcked*~

You and your room mate get dressed in form fitting low cut tops and A-line skirts putting on lip stick and heavy mascara before leaving the dorms at 7:30 in the evening.

You are taking the half mile walk together with dozens of other girls from the college campus to have some fun at the live music dance hall.

All the girls are in their prettiest dresses giggling excitedly walking arm in arm gossiping because a platoon of soldiers will be there for a special military event dancing the night away before they deploy.

You and your room mate have already had quite the sexual experiences sneaking college boys into your dorm room after midnight for quick romps going through the roster never feeling completely satisfied.

You were both very excited to try something daring and new.

As you approach the establishment you hear the swing music getting louder. People surround the well lit dance hall talking, laughing, some coupled up already kissing. You see cars parked in the distance with couples inside making out.

You nudge your room mate pointing it out to her and she smiles mischievously, you both thinking the same thing, it's the pure debauchery you are expecting. The double doors to the dance hall swing open as a couple walks out arm in arm the music is blaring and there is a surge of excitement in the air as you enter.

The space is enormous red white and blue fan fare hanging everywhere. American flags stars and stripes draped colorfully on full display every where you look.

The dance hall is so loud, the brass band is deafening as you look to the players on stage. The floor is packed with a sea of men in green and brown uniforms holding colorfully dressed young ladies giggling, swirling, dipping, twirling, its orchestrated chaos. They nearly miss colliding with each other doing dangerous and provocative dance moves dizzy with excitement and booze.

You are so excited in this environment until your friend is immediately swept away by a handsome soldier who smiles at her twirls her and pulls her onto the dance floor with him. You smile at each other as she giddily waves farewell.

You head to the bar feeling your mood dip without her, she got swept up so quickly, you want to see if you can bump into anyone else you know from campus as you make your way through a crowd of dancers near the blaring trumpets being played on stage.

You are stopped in your tracks by a pair of dancers almost knocking into you, just as they clear your path, your eyes lock onto two of the most dreamily handsome Majors you've ever seen in your life.

They are standing with their elbows rested on the high tables in the drinking area near the bar. They are overlooking all the actions of the lower ranks.

Your gaze must have lingered a little too long because they both look over at you and make eye contact smiling so gorgeously you are shocked and wave politely.

One is a tall blonde with a gorgeous face, plump lips, strong jaw, perfect nose, and big blue eyes. The other is a towering brunette with a handsome face, broad nose, full lips, angular chin, and flirty blue eyes.

Your heart begins pouding as they wave back. The brunette making the signal he wants to meet you at the same time the blonde points to you to gesturing hes coming over. You laugh to yourself in shock as they both head your direction.

It's probably the sexiest thing to have two handsome men walk across a room and approach you. They are taller than you expected, you look up to them when they are standing directly in-front of you. They both smile at you making you blush, they are so clean cut and neat, they smell amazing.

When they try to speak to you over the music they begin laughing unable to get their words across you are all too close to the stage and can't hear a thing with the saxophone blaring. Finally the blonde leans into your ear "Come to a table it's quieter" he says holding your gaze nodding and gesturing you to come, you nod smiling and follow them.

They pick a table at the back corner farthest from the stage in a more secluded area.

Once you all settle down the music is at a manageable level and you can finally hear each other speak. "Hi!" you say cheerfully just happy to look at their handsome faces up close.

They each take a turn shaking your hand " I'm Gale" says the blonde "Im John" says the brunette, their eyes full of attraction as they stare at you.

"The boys call me Buck and him Bucky not to confuse you, the nick names are a long story" Gale says and looks at John to confirm but hes too busy giving you the dreamy eyes. Gale smacks him lightly on the chest for staring at you like that.

John snaps out of being mesmerized by your beauty and flashes you his normal pretty smile his flirty eyes still making you blush, heat creeping up your neck as you smile back politely.

Gale just shoots John a knowing look, it's the night before deployment so there is only one thing on all the men's minds at the dance hall, securing a girl for the night and now he and John are both set on the same one, you.

"Can we get you anything to eat or drink?" Gale asks politely as John rubs his fingers across his lips and chin admiring you.

"Oh no l'm fine I'm actually a student at the college so they feed us supper every night, and seeing its Friday my friend said all the military were having a deployment party here so we wanted to get out and have some fun." You smile innocently and look away hiding your lustier intentions.

John rests his elbow on the table covering his mouth he turns away from you hiding his smile thinking you are so naive coming to a bar full of sexually deprived soldiers for fun looking this good.

"Well where is your friend?" Gale asks perking up thinking maybe he can introduce John to her and secure you for himself because you are clearly the most stunning girl they've both ever seen and he doesn't want to compete with John the entire night.

You scan across the dance floor and spot her just as the solider from earlier is holding her with both hands twirling her around panties flashing as he dips her.

"There she is, and wow that soldier is a really good dancer!" you say excitedly.

Gale and John shoot looks at each other knowing shes dancing with the number one play boy on the base before John blurts out "Yea she's not coming back to the dorm tonight!" and they both burst into laughter.

Your face flushes a little hot from them making fun but you remain calm and you show some assertiveness

"Well that's the plan gentlemen we don't want to go back to our dorm tonight" you retort and they both fall slack jawed.

"You don't say" Gale says in amusement, his eyes flashing attraction now as he looks at you. "What are they teaching you young ladies in college these days now anyway?" He asks intrigued, his voice turns sultry.

You feel the heat rising in your core as he locks in on your sexual deviancy wanting to know more.

You look away hiding your sudden shyness as you answer "All sorts of things" your voice softer feeling you've just admitted to all the sex you've been having.

"Is that so?" he says leaning closer staring at you so intently you return your eyes back to his. John clears his throat to interrupt the sexual tension and blocks Gales advances by speaking up.

"Well if you're not going back to your dorm, and you are planning to leave here with one of these fine gentlemen." He says extending his arms to show just how many you have to chose from in the dance hall before continuing "Which one are you choosing to leave with?" He asks with intent, his eyes full of all his hidden thoughts about you as he smiles.

When you smile back at John and then Gale, your face flushes as you feel the heat creep up your neck again.

You bite your lower lip trying to regain composure.

He and Gale flash each other looks, they've been serving in the military together long enough to be synchronized communicating with just a glance or a gesture. They have both decided it is now a competition. They sit back looking debonaire and cool awaiting your answer of who is the victor.

"If I had to chose one?" You say scrunching your nose cutely uncertain of which one you want more. You feel the arousal pooling between your legs as they both stare at you so seductively.

You decide to play with them "I wish I could have you both" you admit flirtatiously. Their faces look shocked making you giggle.

"Both? " Gale says stunned. John looks around in disbelief holding back his laugh that you couldn't decide.

"Yea just for one night" you say nonchalantly actually really liking the idea now seeing how competitive they are, all the attention would be on you.

Gale and John look at each other as they realize you are serious. Then it sets in that you really aren't going to choose and that they'll never have an opportunity like this with a beautiful dame like you again.

"Would you excuse us just one moment." Gale says his face flushing red as he tries to act unfazed. You bashfully nod secretly wondering if they'll both agree to take you at the same time tonight, you squeeze your thighs together wet at the thought.

They stand and walk only a few steps away turning their backs to you lowering their voices "I think she's serious." Gale says with a stunned expression on his face making John start chuckling.

"Shes definitely serious and I kind of want to do it just to see the surprised look on her face when she realizes what she's asking for." John says smiling mischievously.

"Getting fucked by the Bucks?" Gale says making them burst into laughter.

Gale comes to his senses and gets more serious

"Alright the ground rules then; if it get awkward we stop, if she starts screaming for her life we definitely stop, I get one side you get the other, and I think it could work." John smiles and agrees to the plan going insane with the fact you've already astounded both of them.

Gale peeks over his shoulder and sees you sweetly smile and wave flirtatiously at him, you like how they are being so shy and cute now.

"Yea look at her John she gets finer by the second, let's go get her." They break their huddle and return.

Gale extends his hand to you and as you take it he wraps his arm around yours John extends his arm to your other side and you wrap your arm around his too. You try to contain your giddiness and excitement as the three of you leave together.

You exit the loud dance hall into the quiet night arm in arm with two handsome strangers. You are laughing inside of your head how crazy the idea is and how it's coming in to fruition.

You approach the military car and Gale gets his keys as John gets your door. You sit in the back seat and John gets in to sit next to but Gale pulls him back by the collar of his military jacket. "In the front" Gale snaps sternly with a look of 'don't touch her yet'. John laughs he really wanted to sit and talk and get to know you more, but Gale can’t have that.

During the short drive to the base Gale keeps peeking in the rear view mirror at you. "If you need anything let me know" he says actually feeling anxious that you left the dance hall with them rethinking the whole thing.

John on the other hand is fully invested "So what's the real reason you have to have both of us? What are you expecting us to do once we get here?" he asks peering back at you over his shoulder.

"Just have a little fun" you reply casually. You've already had so many trysts you assume if one can't satisfy you the other one could.

"Is anything off limits or is it a free for all" he grins cheekily elbowing Gale who's focusing so hard on the easy drive that John knows he's too worked up in his head over this.

"It's just sex" you roll your eyes gently. For you it's a basic missionary hump for 2 minutes like all of your encounters they would definitely be top 10 for most handsome though.

"It's... just... sex" John repeats your words deliberately getting Gales attention shielding his lips discreetly mouthing ("I don't think she's had good sex") Gale tries and fails to hold back a quick laugh, finally breaking his nervousness. He realizes you think one will take you and then the other, having no idea of all the sexual things he and John are going to make you experience tonight.

You look out the window and see the entrance to the military base, its gigantic so many barracks and buildings it's practically its own town surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Gale slows the car down and shows his ID to the guard who salutes him and lifts the road block.

They drive in through the rows of buildings until they reach an office structure Gale hops out and comes to get your door. The base is unusually quiet all the men still at the dancehall partying the night away.

John gets his keys out first and unlocks the front entrance to the building the three of you walk inside through the lobby to an office door. You read the name plate 'Major Gale Cleven' as he unlocks and opens it.

Once you enter Gale clicks on the lights and John locks the door bolt behind you. They immediately begin to toy with you letting you know you are their plaything to be shared.

Gale steps in and kisses you as he gropes you all over your dress around your derrière and up your chest squeezing your breasts in both his hands.

John watches getting hard and jealous seeing Gale get to touch all over your body. Gale gives him a show that you'll let them do anything to you and firmly squeezes his hand around your derrière before pulling your dress up over your waist holding it there to show John your panties.

Gale breaks from the kiss with you "Come take her panties off and finger her” he says. You are so aroused loving how they speak to each other taking charge over you. Gale begins kissing you again holding your dress pinned up in the back for John.

When John kneels down behind you, his fingertips touch up your soft thighs reaching to your hips and hooking his thumbs in your panties sliding them down.

He looks at your perfect derrière and kisses across your exposed cheeks in worship. They’ve already done more than you've ever experienced your panties cling to your wetness as he pulls them lower.

"Gale shes fully soaked" he says pulling your panties all the way down. Your pussy is glistening in his face, he trails his finger through your folds collecting your arousal gently rubbing your tight entrance making you clench around nothing.

He takes two fingers spreading you open like a book massaging your inner folds inches from his face getting drunk with arousal on the sight of your pussy. He slowly inserts his two long fingers inside of you making you moan into Gales mouth breaking his kiss "How does she look?" Gale asks through ragged breaths his cock already solid.

John whistles "It's one of the most pretty pussies I've ever seen" he says sliding his large fingers in and out of you amping up your arousal tilting his fingers to reach toward your navel and curling them back down making you moan loudly into Gales face.

Gale pulls your top halfway down exposing your breasts and rubs them gently in his hands. He trails soft kisses up your neck then pinches your nipples so hard it makes you bite your lower lip stifling your moan in your throat as you clench on John's fingers.

"I know I know" Gale coos at you "We're giving you things you never even knew you needed" you nod feverishly you love it your core pulsing as you feel your climax start. You are getting so wet with arousal it begins leaking out of you down John's hand as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Gale she's going to cum she's already dripping down my hand how should we take her?" When John says it, your face flushes and your knees buckle from pleasure.

"Make her cum on your fingers, I want to make her cum again on my tongue " Gales looking in your eyes as it registers what he said you moan from his dirty words. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, it makes them smile they are turning you out in so many ways.

John cups his large hand holding your bottom cheek kneading it as he plants kisses then gently bites into it.

When you feel the pinch of his teeth in your flesh it makes you clench so hard inside that he knows your about to orgasm. He begins pummeling his fingers into you so feverishly it makes your body shake as you feel the force of his knuckles wetly smacking against you.

Gales looking you in the eyes but you aren't able to focus back anymore just moaning lost in the pleasure of John's fingers about to make you cum. Your brows already knitted with your mouth panting and deeply moaning, your core clenching.

"You like it when he fingers you?" He asks a little jealous.

"Yes Yes YES YES YES!" You repeatedly yell in his face triggering Gales jealousy. He reaches his hand between your legs finding your clit and rubbing it in time with John's finger-fuck. It makes you have an earth shattering orgasm instantaneously between both men.

" OH GOD OH G.." Gale cups his large hand over your mouth muffling your repeated moans and continues his assault on your clit making you cum so hard. It was so easy for them to make you orgasm he knows he can get one more. "John keep fingering her I want to make her cum again" he says it looking you in your blissed out eyes. You already feel the tightness building inside of you ready to be released again when he says it.

John turns his fingers inside of you from curving up to facing downward. He slides them up toward your navel this time hooking a squishy spot inside. Your body jolts when he finds it making you shiver and see stars. He pulls his fingers over it in a 'come here' motion pushing his fingers deeply in and out of your soaking entrance until your thighs are trembling and you are almost crying moaning into Gales hand.

He rubs his other two fingers over your wetness into your clit strumming it until your body tenses and you can't catch your breath. Tears rim your eyes as Gale removes his hand from your mouth seeing you so blissed you are unable to even breathe.

Your body gives in and your core snaps giving you such a powerful release from the orgasm that you feel like you are on cloud 9. John is still slowly hooking that special place inside until your shoulders shudder and you come down collapsing against Gales chest. He shushes you petting your hair as you breathe rapidly onto his neck the orgasm draining your energy entirely.

John slides his fingers out of you and sucks them clean licking his lips enjoying the sweet taste of you. He stands up his thick cock erect and strained in his pants as he begins to undress.

“Your doing so good for us” Gale coos and begins to make out with you cradling your head in his hands probing his tongue in your mouth. His cock is so hard he brings your hand down to touch him and you gasp in his mouth realizing both of these 6ft tall men are going to be so big between the legs it makes you whimper.

Once John is fully naked Gale passes you to him

"Hold her for me" Gale says as he gets undressed.

John holds you at your waist trailing his hands up your pulled down top to your exposed breasts. He softly circles his thumbs on your nipples.

You look at his wide chiseled chest, placing your hands there looking down farther and audibly gasp seeing the size of his length as he presses it against you without taking a step. His girthy cock a dark pink color just beneath his abs between his thick thighs. John smirks at you seeing the reaction he’s been waiting for.

"Turn her around " Gale says after he heard you gasp from Johns size. John turns you to face away from him holding your upper arms firmly.

You watch Gale finish undressing down to his boxer shorts, he slides them off revealing his long thick cock with a big round tip that makes your knees go weak.

"Hold her tight" Gale tells John and he grips your arms so you can't move.

Gale approaches you and continues pulling your top all the way down cupping your breasts in his hands. He leans in and slides his tongue out licking circles around your nipple until you start to moan then he licks the other. He switches back to the first nipple and slowly sucks it in his mouth twirling his tongue around the bud until you begin to squirm rubbing your knees together then he pinches the other one hard making you moan.

He alternates between each breast with either love or torture until your core begins pulsing from all his flicks and licks and pinches. You begin moaning deeper and rubbing your thighs together for sexual relief, you are absolutely soaked. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop the sensation hitting right to your core as your knees buckle and John keeps you standing.

Gale reaches behind your waist unzipping your skirt letting all your clothing fall to the floor. You stand between the two men all three of you completely naked.

Gale looks you over head to toe nodding in approval stopping to stare between your legs, your thighs trembling drenched with your own arousal.

"John you are right this is one of the prettiest pussies l've ever seen" He says smiling as he slides his hand between your legs cupping your folds. He forces you back into John's hard cock, the tip firmly pushes through the back of your thighs rubbing against your wet heat . You let out a high pitched shaky moan and shudder having hit your peak of pleasure.

The sound makes both of their cocks twitch at the tip.

"Put her on the desk" Gale says as John picks you up, his giant arms setting you back down on the desk and spreading your legs apart with his hands holding your upper thighs. John is so greedy for you and begins passionately kissing you lining himself up to push himself inside of you.

Gale snaps at him "Lay her flat on the desk and hold her down she needs more" Gales unspoken rule is he gets you first. John goes around the desk as Gale takes his place standing between your legs caressing your upper thighs. John helps you lay flat on your back and holds your hands above your head pinning them against the wood holding you by your wrists. You look down to Gale poised between your legs and then look up to John pinning your hands above your head to the desk. You are completely at their mercy.

"It's just sex huh?" Gale asks repeating your words from earlier to show off his prowess. He kneels down between your legs spreading your thighs wider until your knees are against his desk, he parts your pussy lips open and latches his mouth on your wet folds sucking and slurping them with the tip of his tongue and the suction of his mouth you completely give into him loving it so much.

He flicks your clit so hard with his tongue your back arcs from the table. You moan loudly as your hips jump up almost unable to withstand what he's doing. You look up and see John's eyes staring darkly at you loving seeing how aroused you are getting and wanting to give you more.

He pins your wrists with just one large hand taking the other to squeeze one breast at a time caressing your nipples with his flat palm then pinching them repeatedly until you begin writhing and moaning on the desk due to the sensations from both men.

You are panting and moaning loudly feeling so tight in your core as John pinches your nipples and Gale thrusts his tongue deep inside your pussy. Your moaning intensifies into a stronger tantric rhythm of “YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES YES "as you are lifting your hips into Gales mouth. Your wetness slipping all over his lower face.

He stops to wipe his mouth and pins your hips firmly to the table with his hands so you can't move. "John she's noisy when she's about to cum make her be quiet" he says diving back down between your legs.

John presses his soft plush lips on yours in an upside down kiss eating your moans as Gale eats your pussy.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your body clenches so tight your back arcs from the table body tensing until your core snaps releasing clear liquid arousal all over Gales mouth, you moan into John's as you orgasm for them both.

Gale removes his mouth from you, his lips and chin covered in your clear slick cum. He licks his tongue as far around his lips as he can he can't get enough of your taste then he grabs his shirt from the floor wiping the rest. He throws it back down returning to his position between your legs.

Your vision is blurry, hearing distorted legs trembling body shivering. You feel so high from the pleasure you are delirious.

"I've never felt like this before, Ive never come like this before " you whisper to both of them your body feels like you are floating off the table. John leans in and kisses your mouth, seeing you in such pleasure he wants to be inside of you so badly.

Gale pulls your body to the edge of the desk flush against him slipping you out of John's grasp breaking the kiss. "We haven't cum yet" Gale says making your core start throbbing.

John gets impatient you can see the flash of anger that he wants relief but Gale keeps taking you. He moves to your right, looking over your pretty body his giant cock pulsing as he's getting ready to pleasure himself over you but you reach out and grab him around the base first making his abs clench and his face flush as he locks eyes with you and you stroke him off.

"Are you that needy?" Gale snaps watching you give John a hand job.

Gale in a newfound competition for your neediness runs his tip up and down your wet folds making you moan loudly "MMMM YES YES PLEASE!" you cry out wanting him inside of you.

"Quiet her with your cock" Gale tells John.

John shudders from arousal staring at your pretty mouth open and moaning not planning to use you like this. He takes your head turning it to the side to face his pelvis and you release your hand from his base as he slides his heavy cock into your wet mouth filling it up.

You feel his tip squish at the back of your throat but he can't fit completely in your mouth due to his size. A small gasp escapes Johns lips at how amazing your mouth feels on him. He gently slides his large cock in and out of you mouth coating his length in your saliva.

Gale stops rubbing his tip through your folds as you leak arousal all over his desk from sucking John's cock, he wants finish you with his and places his hands on your hips lining up and pushing himself between your legs. Your moans are stifled with your mouth full of John's cock, and your entrance makes Gale slow his pace immediately.

"Fuck she's tight!" he says loudly and begins working his length half way out, half way back in until he can begin smacking his hips between your legs burying his cock fully inside of you.

John is already blissed out eyes lidded his adams apple bobbing. He places his large hand on your head holding it in place as he thrusts into your mouth his powerful thighs flexing as he uses you.

You feel so aroused having both men satisfy you and themselves at the same time. The familiar tightening of your inner coil begins. The more each of them rams their cock inside of you the tighter your core gets until your moaning on John's and clenching on Gales.

The tightened coil springs free inside of you giving you a sweet release that’s is so euphoric you don’t want it to stop. Your moans of extreme pleasure are muffled on John's cock but your fluttering walls gripping Gale tightly are the tell-tale sign for him, once he feels you orgasm on him he wants to cum.

He slides his heavy cock into your tight soaked entrance faster and harder until it's making obscene squelching sounds. He starts pounding his hips between your legs making you scream on each hit vibrating John's cock in your mouth. Once you earn the first moan out of John feeling your mouth suck and vibrate on him he can't stop.

They both begin groaning in tandem getting off at the same time their deep guttural moans sound so good its cataclysmic to your ears and rattling your brain.

"I'm gonna cum" Gale yells as John shouts "fuck fuck fuck" thrusting in your mouth quickly and slipping his cock out unloading hot spurts of cum all over your chest. Gale pulls out of you too pumping his shaft vigorously making depraved moaning sounds as his body tenses and he spreads his silky warmth all over your naval.

They take several seconds to calm down staring at you covered like a sexy pastry "Should we make her taste us?" Gale asks already knowing the answer John grins they each dip a finger in their cum and bring it to your mouth. You suck Gales finger first then John's. Gale goes to get a towel to clean you up.

John grabs your jaw turning you to face to him caressing his thumb on your chin, he wants you more and to himself. He stares into your pretty eyes making him fall for you instantly a shiver running through him thinking you are the sexiest thing in the world.

Gale returns from the sink with a warm wash cloth gently wiping over each breast and down your naval cleaning you completely of their combined cum.

Gale sits you up slowly on the desk checking on you

"Are you alright?" He asks.

You look up at him smiling weakly " I feel really good" you say smile spreading bigger across your face. He already has to have you again, he holds your waist caressing your naval with his thumbs. He's feeling things that he doesn't know how to process because he and John will never get over this.

John sees you both having a moment and feels crestfallen thinking he should just leave. He collects his boxers putting them back on as Gale looks around and finds his.

You slip off the desk and collect your clothing stepping into your skirt. "Where are you going?" they both say in unison.

"I thought you would ask me to leave" you say thinking it's easier to leave as quickly as possible and never see them again.

"You're staying the night I'm taking you back in the morning" Gale says. He goes to a blank wall of his office tugging a cord and releasing a pull down queen size Murphy bed.

"Oh" you say surprised. Gale enters his office wash room retrieving a tooth brush and a towel with one of his boot camp shirts handing them to you finalizing the stay.

You smile to yourself that Gale wants you to stay. You enter the bathroom brushing your teeth listening as Gale and John debate outside about the sleeping arrangement because John wants you to stay in his office instead and they can't come to an agreement.

You emerge from the wash room looking cute to break the tension " Do you guys want to take a shower with me?" You ask sweetly and they both drop the argument. Gale enters and starts the water, when it gets to temp he moves out of your way letting you step in first.

You rinse your hair and body as they brush their teeth.

Gale finishes first getting in the shower with you, John enters second. They tower over you in the small space as they take turns rinsing their bodies off. Your eyes can't stop staring at either of them feeling like it's heaven on earth. Shiny wet muscles, large hands, smiles, abs, large cocks, strong thighs.

They satisfied you so completely you can't even think about sex your body is only craving rest.

John finally gargles playfully and spits water out from the shower head finishing first. He takes a quick flirtatious peek at your body before exiting the shower. Gale turns off the water and hands you your towel and you use it to get dry.

Both of them dry off and wrap around their waists. As you finish drying your hair Gale helps you pull his boot camp shirt over your head.

"Thank you" you say shyly in appreciation.

"It suits you" he says admiringly and takes you by the hand leading you to the bed

He turns down the covers and ushers you in you crawl and sit in the middle. John is putting on his boxers getting dressed to leave when you lock eyes with him

"Can you stay?" You ask nicely and he smiles at you then looks to Gale whose his lips are pursed in a definite no. "Weve already done ...everything else together...might as well actually sleep together " you smile at Gale sweetly to persuade him.

Gale doesn't respond he just goes to click off the main light in the room. You lay down and look at John patting the bed for him to come lay next to you, he smiles and climbs on top of you and planting a small kiss on your forehead to say thank you. He lays on your left side getting under the covers spooning you from the back holding you to him by your hip.

The remaining bathroom light clicks off and Gale joins a second later settling in front of you face to face placing his hand on your waist pulling you to his chest, John pulls you back to his side and Gale pulls you back to his side once more until they settle with Gale placing his hand on your waist and John placing his hand on your hip, you lay directly between them cuddling in the dark as you all fall fast asleep.

~*End*~

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