two
There’s a beat of silence. Another. Your eyes stare into his cold blue ones, and all you can think is - fuck.
Steve’s hand on your knee softens, and he chuckles softly. “Bucky,” he admonishes. “You’re scaring the girl.” His hand slides back up to your side, and he twists you until you’re sitting across his lap sideways, legs pointing toward Bucky. From this angle you can see both men: Steve’s eyes searching your face while Bucky’s eyes search the road ahead. The driver’s demeaner has softened, but the white-hot grip on the steering wheel prevents your body from unclenching.
Steve reaches his hand up, resting lightly against your face. He turns you toward him, your faces just a hair breadth away. “S’okay, baby, Bucky’s just stressed out,” he reaches his thumb up to wipe away the errant tear sliding down your face. You didn’t even know you’d been crying. “Just tell him you’re sorry, darling. You didn’t mean to upset him, did you?”
This is insane, you feel yourself think, but you can’t help the words that fall from your lips. “I- I’m sorry.”
“Say my name.”
Bucky’s eyes are fixed on the road, and you can see from the anger that settles across his brow that you’re lucky for that fact. Your eyes shift, slightly, across to Steve, whose hands are tracing your sides, your legs, your back.
“Tell him what you’re sorry for too, darling,” Steve whispers against your ear. “Show him you’re really sorry. He’ll be so happy if you do.”
You’re trembling now; not from the bone cold ache beneath your skin, but from the absolute battlefield you’ve stepped into. This doesn’t make sense, you want to cry, but it’s pointless. Any argument that rises in your throat is quelled by the suffocating atmosphere of being trapped between the two men.
The volatile, unknown men.
The men that are complete strangers to you, and twice your size, and driving a truck tall enough that, were you to throw yourself from it, you would surely be gravely injured by it – especially while it was driving.
Steve’s hands have stopped their roaming, now. One holds your side, holding you against him, and the other ghosts your chin. His thumb brushes the spot where Bucky had gripped you, and it’s not painful but it’s there.
The realisation dawns, alighting the horizon in shades of red. Danger.
They are capable of much, much more.
And so.
It’s decided.
With a clenching of your heart, you reach forward, lying your hand atop of Bucky’s against the steering wheel. The touch catches his attention, cold slate eyes turning to catch yours.
“I’m sorry, Bucky,” each word stabs your throat as it leaves, the betrayal burning a course through your oesophagus. “You and Steve saved me. I’m sorry for being rude. I should have listened to you.”
An idea blooms across your frontal lobe. You turn in your seat slightly, hand lifting up to rest against Steve’s cheek. “And I’m sorry to you too, Stevie. I am really grateful to you both, I promise.” You cringe slightly at that last phrase – it’s very utterance a sign of your hypocrisy. “I was just so scared.”
You lean into Steve, cuddling into his side despite yourself. You feel the men share a look over your head. The action alone makes your heart skip a beat, and you plead to every improv God that you’ve pulled it off – the damsel in distress, desperately in love with your knights in shining armour.
You wonder, fleetingly, if all the other fairy-tale princesses felt like this – trapped, alone.
There’s a heaviness on your thigh, and you look up to see Bucky’s hand placed there. Firm. But not angry.
“Oh, doll,” he says, eyes not leaving the road. “Such a good girl for us. So lucky we found you, a pretty thing like you would be eaten out here.”
“And he doesn’t mean by wolves – well, dingoes, I guess.” Steve chuckles into your hair. “A hot little thing like you would be passed from rest stop to rest stop. Some of the other truckies out here are nasty…”
“’S why she’s got us,” Bucky points out. “We’ll keep you safe, baby girl. Just gotta listen,” he punctuates the word with a squeeze, and it dawns on you how far up your thigh his hand is, fingertips dipping beneath your sundress.
Words escape you, and you can feel the tears of – well, of everything – threatening to fall. You breath is gasped when you whisper, “of course, and I’m sorry.”
“Such a good girl.”
You have no idea which one said it.
---
The cab falls into relative silence, and you watch the road through the windscreen. You’ve never been in a car so high up before, and the perspective is a little dizzying. The trucks lights, which outline the top and bottom of the cab, shroud the Australian shrub in dazzling white. It could almost pass for daytime.
The men seemed to have settled, and the overwhelming tension has dissipated. But you can still feel it, the potential energy simmering beneath Bucky’s hand on your thigh, and the broad back of Steve behind you.
Bucky’s hand tightens slightly, and the feeling makes you shiver. It’s at that moment when you realise that you’re freezing – adrenaline unable to stop the ice-cold air conditioner from attacking your wet skin.
Steve and Bucky, simultaneously, perk up.
“Oh, darlin’,” Steve whispers, the concern terrifyingly genuine. “Been such bad hosts. Got you sitting in here all cold. Bucky, what would my mother say?”
Bucky barks a laugh. “She’d tan your hide, that’s for sure. ‘nd then she’d offer the girl some clothes.”
“Well, I’ll do my best to make it up to you – and her, for that matter,” Steve smirks down at you. Pulling you closer to him, he reaches behind Bucky’s seat, pulling a canvas bag from just in front of the curtain. “Come to think of it, you’ve got me drenched too.”
He rifles in the bag, producing a long-sleeved button-up shirt; the fluoro yellow indicating that this was not designed with fancy dinners in mind. He hands the shirt to you, before searching through some more, and sighing in vain. “Ain’t got no more pants, Bucky.”
“Told you ya shoulda done some washing at the last stop.”
“Well, hindsight and all,” Steve drawls, before focusing his attention back to you. “Well go on baby, get dressed.”
Thump
You stare between them, head turning vigorously. Hesitant. “Get dressed… where?”
“Right here, baby. Road’s nice and straight for a little so you can just stand up.” Steve’s tone is light. “And I can get out of these damp pants, give ‘em a chance to dry before the next stop.”
You feel bile rising in your throat as Steve pushes at your side until you’re standing. You turn back towards them, fear flickering through your eyes. You’re sure you look like a doe caught in headlights. You wonder if they like it.
“Um… Can I get changed behind the curtain? I… I don’t usually get undressed in front of strangers…” the excuse is lame, and you can feel it. But you cling to it like a lifeboat.
“Doesn’t seem very usual of a situation to me,” Bucky says, tone clipped and hard. “Do you remember the last time you picked up a deserted stranger, Stevie, and she was an ungrateful bitch about it?”
The words hit you like a punch, chest rising in fear.
“Language, Bucky,” Steve glared. “She’s just shy. Aren’t you darling? There ain’t nothing to be afraid of, baby. We rescued you, remember? And now we’re trying to get you warm. ‘Cause otherwise you’re going to get sick.
“And we can’t let you behind the curtain. It’s nothing special but it is where we sleep. Can’t have you getting it all wet.” Steve’s hands move to undo his seatbelt, and he stands in front of you, hands lightly resting against your shoulders. “I get you’re scared, but we saved you – remember? And trust me, I don’t want to take my pants of in front of Bucky, either. But at least you’ve got something to put on – something that I gave you.”
You’re nodding despite yourself. You’re just so cold, and his words just make sense. He’s looking at you kindly, thumb rubbing against your shoulder softly. His eyes are intoxicating, bluer than blue.
“Besides,” Bucky pipes up, distracting from your reverie. “You said you would listen.”
The fear, briefly sidelined, spikes again, and anxiety pangs through your stomach. This – whatever this was – was not a choice, no matter how Steve seemed to be spinning it. But you – well, you guess you had to.
With a word of affirmation, you turn back toward the front of the truck, back toward both men. You inhale, exhale, and let the sundress drop from your shoulders. It falls to the floor with a wet sound, and you hurry to shimmy into the button up shirt.
You can feel their gaze, hot and heavy across the curve of your back and ass. You’re distinctly aware of the wetness of your panties – in the I-just-got-rained-on kind of way, rather than from arousal. But the shirt they’d given you fell to just below your ass, and there was no way that you’d be shedding them, no matter what happens tonight.
You turn back around, eyes shifting to the floor as you try to return to your seat on Steve’s lap. Both men are silent, something you are grateful for.
Steve taps his broad thighs, the sound distinctly less muffled. You glance at him, realising suddenly that he’s clothed in only a pair of tight boxers. “My clothes were wet too, so I figured I’d make you feel less out-of-place,” he chuckled, hand not-so-subtly rubbing against the bulge in his pants.
Bucky scoffs beside you. “Fucking exhibitionist, this one,” you’re still standing, and you can see him intermittently stealing glances of your barely-covered form. “Hope you show our friends at the next rest stop what you’re wearing. Sure they’d love to see you like this, Stevie.”
A giggle bubbles up inside you despite yourself, and Steve laughs softly too. “Haha, asshole. You know they’d be way more excited to see this get up,” he gestures toward you, not so subtly eying you up. “But no way in hell will they get the chance.”
Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist. “You’re absolutely trembling,” he notices, pulling you down until you’re sitting flush against him, your back to his chest. “I’ll get you nice and warm.”
The tremor that rips through you just encourages him, hand wrapping low around your waist and pulling you closer, closer, closer. You can feel him, his hardness, pressing against your ass. It does nothing to settle the trembling roaring through you.
“She that cold, Stevie?” Bucky asks, hand moving from steering wheel to your thigh. His hand is so high but its so warm and the contrast rips a breath from your lips. “God, she is. There’s a blanket in the glove compartment. Might wanna grab it.” He punctuates the sentence with a tight grip, and you almost moan despite yourself.
It’s hard to think. The adrenaline that has flooded your day has eased to a trickle, and the cold and the fear has muddled your mind. The men’s ministrations, lighter than before but still as commanding, feel… good. Or warm. The division between the two was down to a pinprick.
Steve nudged you with his head, arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. “Right there, darling. Just lean forward and grab it.”
You see the handle for the compartment, but you can’t struggle out of Steve’s grip to reach it. Finally, desperately, you lean forward at the waist, ass pushing back firmly into Steve’s crotch.
Oh.
That was their plan.
Because suddenly your barely clothed core is pressed directly into Steve’s crotch, and the moan that drips from his lips is sinful. Bucky’s hand shifts, pushing your back down further until your face is against the dashboard, head turned to see Bucky watching you with eager eyes.
Steve shifts you upward for a second, and when he brings your hips back down you can feel his hardness, alert and excited, pushing directly into your pussy. He lets out a long groan, rolling your hips across his cock. “Look at this little slut, Buck,” he hums, breath airy. “Grinding on my cock not even an hour after we met her.”
Bucky’s hand lets go of your back, rubbing against his own bulging crotch. “Knew she wanted it,” he agrees, eyes flitting between the road and your shocked body. “Though I’m pretty disappointed that she didn’t drop to her knees the second we picked her up. It’s really the least she could do.”
Your head just – you’re drowning and fighting, and nothing makes sense. You want to scream, to cry, to tell them that they’re evil and they shouldn’t be doing this. But you’re afraid. Afraid of what these men could do to you.
One of Steve’s hands wraps around your throat, pulling you back from where you were forced against the dashboard. He turns your head toward him, eyes blown with lust. “Ungrateful little thing, aren’t ya? Should have just left you out there to die.”
“Left her to be used like a 10-cent whore at the closest truck store,” Bucky agrees.
“Do you want that, baby? Want us to leave you tied up in the showers? Let the other guys fuck you?”
Your head shakes violently, but the words are strangled in your throat. Steve’s hand is tight around your throat.
“She doesn’t look like she wants that after all, Buck,” Steve mocks.
“Well I think she should prove that she’s worth keeping,” Bucky continues, hand stroking his cock slowly. “You gonna prove it, girlie?”
Your head is spinning. “Yes!” You choke out.
Both men laugh, before Steve rips at the buttons on your shirt. It falls open, exposing your nearly naked body to both men. Bucky growls, fisting himself harder.
“Prove it then, slut,” Steve says, pushing you toward the floor. “Gonna make Buck come before our next stop, or I’ll give you away to Sam. He loves a good little whore, obedient or not.”
“We only like ones that listen,” Bucky grins heartily, hand fisting in your hair and bringing you towards his hot, hard cock. “Now open that pretty little mouth of yours. I’m gonna make you choke.”