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A domestic evening

The Polished Gem of Brooklyn

The air in the penthouse was thick, heavy with the musk of two dominant alphas and the sweet, floral scent of Tony’s distress and arousal. Tony remained on the rug, his knees pressed into the plush fibers, his hands resting demurely on his thighs. The lace of the scandalous garment Steve had chosen for him felt like a spiderweb against his skin—fragile, transparent, and utterly exposing. He could feel Bucky’s eyes roaming over the curve of his spine and the slope of his shoulders, while Steve’s presence loomed over him like a mountain.

"He's real quiet tonight, Stevie," Bucky remarked, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated through Tony's chest. "You sure he’s still awake down there? Or did you break him so good he’s forgotten how to breathe?"

Steve chuckled, the sound deep and rich with satisfaction. He reached out with a heavy boot, nudging Tony’s hip just enough to make the omega wobble. "He’s awake. He’s just waitin'. He knows better than to make a peep while the men are talkin'. Right, sweetheart? You’re bein' a good little statue for us, ain't ya?"

Tony looked up, his eyes wide and glossy, his bottom lip trembling just a fraction. "Yes, Alpha. I'm listening. I'm being good."

"See that, Buck? Polished him up real nice," Steve said, his Brooklyn accent thickening as he leaned forward, resting his large hands on his knees. "But I think he’s gettin' a little too comfortable just sittin' there. Think we oughta see how well he minds us when things get a bit... difficult?"

Bucky grinned, a slow, predatory stretch of his lips. He leaned back, crossing his legs and tapping his metal fingers against the arm of the sofa. "I like the way you think, pal. Why don't we see if that pretty little mouth is as good at followin' orders as it is at lookin' sweet?"

Steve’s hand came down, his thick fingers tangling in the dark curls at the back of Tony’s head. He didn't pull hard, but the grip was firm, a reminder of the absolute power he held. "Alright, Tony. Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna stay right there on your knees. You’re gonna keep your hands behind your back, and you’re not gonna touch yourself. Not once. No matter how much you want to. You understand?"

Tony’s breath hitched, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Yes, Alpha. Hands behind my back. I won't touch."

"And," Bucky added, his voice dropping an octave, "you’re gonna keep those big brown eyes on us the whole time. If I see you lookin' at the floor, or tryin' to hide that blushy face in your Alpha’s lap, we’re gonna have to start all over. You think you can handle that, doll? Or are you too delicate?"

"I can do it, Mr. Barnes," Tony whispered, his voice soft and melodic, the very picture of a well-bred omega. "I want to be good for you both."

"Good boy," Steve rumbled. He let go of Tony’s hair and sat back, nodding to Bucky. "Go ahead, Buck. Give him a little taste of what he’s missin'."

Bucky leaned forward, his metal hand reaching out to trace the line of Tony’s jaw. The cold vibranium was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from Tony’s skin. Bucky’s thumb brushed over Tony’s lower lip, pulling it down to reveal the pink dampness inside. "Look at him. Just a little prize. You really did hit the jackpot, Steve. Most omegas these days would be screamin' about their rights, but this one? He just wants to please his Alpha."

"That's 'cause he knows what's good for him," Steve said, his voice dripping with a sleazy sort of pride. "He knows he ain't built for the world out there. He’s built for this. For stayin' home, keepin' the bed warm, and lookin' pretty when I bring my friends over. Ain't that right, Tony? You don't need all that stress of runnin' a company. You just need to worry 'bout if my dinner's hot and if your skin is soft."

Tony let out a small, shaky whine, his eyes fixed obediently on Bucky’s face even as his body began to tremble. The lace of his outfit offered no protection, no modesty. He felt every inch of his submission being cataloged by the two men. "It’s... it’s much better this way, Alpha. I don't want to worry. I just want... I just want you to be happy with me."

"Oh, I'm real happy, sweetheart," Steve said, his gaze dropping to the visible tension in Tony’s frame. "But you’re lookin' a little too worked up. You breakin' the rules already? Are those hands movin'?"

"No! No, Alpha, I promise," Tony gasped, his shoulders hunching as he squeezed his hands together behind his back. "I’m staying still. I’m being a good boy."

"He is stayin' still, Steve," Bucky noted, his hand moving down to Tony’s throat, his fingers wrapping around the silver collar. "Even though he’s leakin' through that expensive lace you bought him. Look at that. He’s so desperate to please you he’s practically vibratin'."

Steve stood up slowly, looming over Tony like a predatory god. He unbuckled his belt, the heavy leather clinking in the quiet room. "I think he’s earned a little reward, don't you, Buck? He’s been such a quiet, polite little thing all day. Scrubbed the floors, cooked a meal, and wore exactly what I told him to without a single complaint."

"He definitely deserves somethin'," Bucky agreed, standing up as well and moving to stand behind Tony. He placed his heavy hands on Tony’s shoulders, pinning him in place. "Why don't you show him how a Brooklyn Alpha takes care of his property?"

Steve knelt in front of Tony, his face inches away. The scent of sandalwood and raw alpha dominance was staggering. "You want your reward, Tony? You want your Alpha to make you feel good?"

Tony’s eyes filled with tears, his head nodding frantically. "Please, Alpha. Please. I’ve been so good. I did everything you said."

"I know you did," Steve murmured, his voice softening into a patronizing coo that made Tony’s toes curl. "You’re my perfect little doll. Such a sensitive, sweet thing. You don't have a thought in that pretty head that I didn't put there, do ya?"

"No, Alpha," Tony whimpered.

"That's my boy." Steve reached out, his large, calloused hand cupping Tony’s groin through the thin silk. Tony let out a sharp, choked cry, his head falling back against Bucky’s stomach. "Look at you. So easy to break. One touch and you’re fallin' apart."

"Hold him steady, Buck," Steve commanded, his eyes never leaving Tony’s face.

Bucky gripped Tony’s chin, forcing him to look back down at Steve. "Keep those eyes open, doll. You don't get to hide. You watch what your Alpha does for you."

The next few minutes were a blur of overwhelming sensation. Steve was not gentle; he moved with a reckless, dominant confidence, his hands sure and demanding. He handled Tony like he was an expensive toy, something to be played with and enjoyed. Tony’s world narrowed down to the heat of Steve’s touch and the solid, unshakable presence of Bucky behind him. He was trapped between them, a tiny, submissive creature held fast by the two most powerful men he had ever known.

When the climax finally hit, it was violent and sudden. Tony’s body arched, a high, thin keen escaping his throat as he spilled against Steve’s hand. He felt completely spent, his muscles turning to water, his mind turning to mush. If Bucky hadn't been holding him up, he would have collapsed onto the rug.

"There he goes," Bucky chuckled, his voice echoing in Tony’s ear. "Cleaned him right out. Look at that face, Steve. He don't even know what day it is."

Steve pulled his hand away, wiping it casually on a silk handkerchief he pulled from his pocket—one of the many expensive things Tony had bought with his own money that Steve now considered his. "He’s a mess. A beautiful, obedient little mess."

Steve stood up and scooped Tony off the floor as if he weighed nothing. Tony let out a soft, dazed sound, his head lolling against Steve’s shoulder. He felt tiny in Steve’s arms, his legs dangling, the lace of his outfit hiked up around his waist.

"Let's get him on the sofa," Steve said, walking over and sitting down, settling Tony firmly in his lap. Bucky followed, sitting close enough that their knees touched, boxing Tony in once again.

Steve began to stroke Tony’s hair, his touch now gentle, almost sweet, though his words remained laced with that thick, condescending edge. "There we go. My brave little omega. You did so good, sweetheart. You stayed so quiet and you minded your manners perfectly."

Tony nuzzled into Steve’s neck, his breath hitching in little aftershocks. "Thank you, Alpha. Thank you."

"He's such a sensitive thing, ain't he?" Bucky said, reaching over to pat Tony’s cheek. "Look how he’s shakin'. You really put him through his paces, Stevie. He’s gonna be tuckered out for the rest of the night."

"That's the plan," Steve said, pulling a soft cashmere throw over Tony’s shivering form, though he made sure to leave enough of the lace visible for them to admire. "He don't need to be doin' anything else tonight. He’s done his chores, he’s served the drinks, and he’s been a good little showpiece for my best friend. Now he just gets to sit here and be loved on."

Tony felt a warm glow of pride and safety. This was what he was meant for. He didn't miss the boardroom or the laboratory. He didn't miss the responsibility of being Tony Stark. Being Steve’s omega was so much simpler, so much more natural.

"You like it when we praise you, don't ya, Tony?" Bucky asked, his voice teasing. "You like hearin' what a good, submissive boy you are?"

"I do, Mr. Barnes," Tony whispered, his voice muffled against Steve’s chest. "I want to be exactly what you want."

Steve squeezed him tight, a possessive growl vibrating in his chest. "You already are, sweetheart. You're the perfect throwback. A real, old-fashioned omega who knows that his Alpha’s word is law. You’re lucky I found you, you know. Any other alpha would've let you keep workin' yourself into an early grave. But I knew better. I knew you just needed a firm hand and a soft place to land."

"I am lucky," Tony agreed, his eyes fluttering shut. "I'm so lucky you keep me."

"Damn right," Steve said, looking over at Bucky with a triumphant smirk. "He’s my prize, Buck. My pretty, polished little gem. And I’m never gonna let anyone else touch him. He’s gonna stay right here, under my thumb, where he’s happy."

Bucky nodded, his eyes warm with affection for both his friend and the omega between them. "He’s right where he belongs, Stevie. Right where he belongs."

As the two alphas returned to their quiet conversation, Tony drifted in and out of a blissful, submissive haze. He listened to the rumble of their voices—the thick Brooklyn accents that sounded like home—and felt the steady heartbeat of the man who owned him. He was a kept thing, a beautiful, mindless treasure, and as Steve’s hand continued to idly stroke his back, Tony knew he had never been happier in his entire life. He was a good boy, and he was home.