The Avengers returned to New York with Harry securely among them, taken into the fold felt like being wrapped in a security blanket. The now familiar banter faded into the background and soothed his mind like raindrops against a window.
Only two of their number remained in Wakanda. Wakanda had the most advanced neural technology on the planet. They were able to use vibranium for in depth sonic scanning, which allowed them to map neural networks in detail. The upshot was that Shuri was pretty confident that she could do what Harry and Wanda couldn't, help Bucky Barnes. What was affecting him wasn't a spell or charm, it was ingrained in his neurons, programmed into him. But if he had been programmed, it was possible to deprogram him. At least, that was the theory.
Steve had decided to stay in Wakanda while they worked on Bucky, and Sam had elected to remain with him. It made sense on a strategic level as well, having someone in Wakanda as a liaison would be important. Wakanda was officially on a war footing, but no one had any illusions about the road ahead of them. Madame Hydra had the ability to control people's minds, the ability to go where she pleased at will, and now a large stock of vibranium and Wakandan technology. It would take more than resources and determination to decisively defeat her. They would need to be careful and clever, patient and ingenious. Harry's preferred style of bursting in with half-cocked plans wasn't going to work against her. They needed to think ahead, anticipate what she might do, and preempt her.
Harry's near death experience had blowm open the doors on their sex life. Harry felt like he was drowning in sex, drowning in them. After Wanda had mentioned that Skye was always 'in a good mood for the rest of the day after she got dick', Harry had tested that by fucking Skye into her bed the next morning. Sure enough, she'd spent most the day with a happy glow and a spring in her step, and when Bruce had asked about what had gotten her in such a good mood, she'd been shamelessly honest. It became a routine. It was common for Harry to wake up like this, with Skye against his cock- the entire spectrum from just pressing her arse against it, to licking and sucking, to rubbing her (already wet) sex along the shaft. Other mornings, Skye would just be gazing shamelessly at him- of all his partners she'd been by far the most affected by his recent muscle gain. Usually, this was accompanied by a teasing or snarky comment, designed to get him to react, to turn the tables and take charge. Usually, it worked.
Case in point, this morning Skye woke him with a blowjob.
He was quickly joined in is mind by Wanda, who had been meditating. She loved to do this while he was having sex, feeling his pleasure and making commentary. And this morning, her commentary had been particularly inspired. Fuck her face, you know she'd love it. You know how good it would feel to unload your balls right down her throat.
He knew how good it would feel, and he did know that Skye would love it. It had come up in dirty talk a few times, and it had always gotten her going. So, egged on by Wanda, her grabbed Skye's head and pulled her back. He quickly repositioned them so that he was standing over her, and she was on her knees in front of him. She looked up with eager, inviting eyes, and he told her "If you want my cock so badly, why don't you take it."
And she was so receptive- moaning, even though she was muffled as his hips began to piston, begging him with her eyes for more. Wanda, meanwhile, was salivating in the back of her mind like a stereotypical teenaged boy. He could see her in her room, levitating just an inch off her bed in a meditation pose, two fingers diving into her pussy ferociously. Yes, shove that throbbing cock down her throat. She hissed. You own that throat, so TAKE IT. In response, Harry thrust his hips forward, slapping his balls against Skye's chin and gagging her. Instead of any distress, however, Skye's eyes rolled back in pleasure.
Though Wanda was still egging him on, Harry pulled back in a hurry to check on her "Are you okay? Was that too much?"
Skye just moaned, leaning forward to follow his cock. "Please, more." Were her only words before she wrapped his knob back up in her mouth. Harry could take the hint. He wouldn't hold back this time, and the lewd noises of Skye gagging and his balls slapping against her chin filled the room. Skye reciprocated by clinging to his arse, fingers convulsively digging into his flesh and pulling him to her. Even now, she wanted more.
He gave out before she did. It didn't help that Wanda was begging him to unload his balls down her throat (yes, those exact words). With a final, mighty thrust, he hilted himself in her and came. For an endless moment, Harry's entire world was the pleasure of having his cock blissfully sheathed within a warm wet hole, throbbing and pulsing as he came. That moment lasted through most of his orgasm, but as the pleasure abated, he returned to himself. Hastily, he released his grip on Skye's head.
What he hadn't recognized is that Skye had started cumming just as he had, and when he let her go, she simply flopped onto the floor. The last few pulses of his ejaculation dribbled onto her face.
Skye would spend the entire morning on a cloud, and this time no one would ask her why.
As for Wanda… their training continued, and with it- intimacy. There was an implicit, deep trust that developed when you used mind magic with someone. The runic bracelets protected everyone's minds from outside intrusion, but Harry and Wanda had built up a mental backchannel, bridged by their magic and widened by frequent use. Wanda knew more about his past than anyone in this world. The day she had learned about the Dursleys… she had almost caused an incident. Of all his partners, she was the most viscerally invested in his pleasure. This too at least partially stemmed from how frequently she lingered in his mind. He often felt her discretely settling herself into a corner of his consciousness, just to feel him, to be comforted, to feel loved. She had been the one to pitch the idea of prostate play, she was always the one egging him on, urging him to take more pleasure for himself. Even when it was just the two of them, she was like this, seemingly more invested in his pleasure than her own. She was so damn selfless in bed that it made Harry feel bad, but he knew that she loved it- that making him feel good was what made her feel good.
Nat, meanwhile, preferred to use sex to decompress- either after being locked in with paperwork or to unwind from a mission. Often, he'd be in the middle of something, either a meeting, or training, or just relaxing with the others, when Natasha would enter and give him a look full of wanting and promise. He loved how she looked when she was aroused. She tried to hide it, but her true feelings always shown through- the flicker in her eyes as she repeatedly gave him discrete glances, the tilt of her head, even with her posture she'd be more restless and tense.
But she'd been getting less discrete. Harry noticed her cues at a joint meeting with Wakanda, with Shuri debriefing them from across the world. Natasha's eyes would flick towards him whenever there was a lull in the conversation, each time accompanied by her shifting in her seat and pressing her thighs together. The others, if they had even noticed, would have just interpreted her fidgeting as fatigue from the mission she had just returned from. Harry knew better, knew that after 24 hours away she was feeling pent up. She was uncharacteristically unsubtle when she asked to speak with him after the meeting.
As soon as they were out of sight of the group, she took his arm, diverting him to an unused office. She clicked the door locked behind them, and he barely had time to get off a muffiato charm before she was on him. She mauled his mouth, moaning deep as her lips fused with his and her tongue invaded. Even after all his sexual experience, her kiss was still debilitating, as effective and powerful as an assassin's blow. Her kiss was only one part of a pincer move; the other was a tactical strike by her hand straight between with legs.
Harry wasn't fully hard at the moment, but was hardly his fault. Skye hadn't been satisfied with a single round of sex that morning and had ambushed him in the shower. Despite him nominally being 'in charge' in their dynamic, Harry found it near impossible to say no to Skye. More relevant, his cock found it hard to say no to her. Especially when she was standing in front of him naked, stepping into the stream of the shower so that the water would run down her body, sculpting past the swell of her breasts, her toned abdomen, her thighs… with an expression that somehow was a perfect combination of 'seductress' and 'pitiful puppy-dog'.
Then he'd had a training session with Wanda. It had been impossible for him to miss the undercurrent of lust emanating from her, and he was not surprised that she started kissing him as soon as their allotted time was up. Drawn out foreplay, fingering, and cunnilingus would never deter Wanda from her main goal, giving him as many orgasms as possible. His first had happened while he was thrusting into her from above. The second had been drawn from him as she rode him. The third had been orchestrated by a blowjob that only a telepathic woman could give. He'd been limp and oversensitive in the immediate aftermath of his fourth orgasm that morning, and she had used her mouth as a highly honed tool. She'd started by sucking his balls, still tingling in the wake of his orgasm, and working her way up his hardening shaft. This had culminated in her wrapping her lips around his cockhead and circling it and his (oh so sensitive) frenulum with her tongue until he was twitching out his orgasm into her mouth.
And so, while he'd had lunch and a rather uneventful meeting to recover, his cock wasn't quite eager. Natasha noticed- of course she did. But rather than being frustrated or disappointed, she just took it as a challenge. She suddenly shoved her tongue down his throat, while her hand pressed harder against his crotch. He was barely even aware of her pushing him back until she shoved him onto the desk, sending an empty penholder and a few unused notepads clattering to the floor. In a feat of coordination, she simultaneously kissed him senseless while unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers one handed. Only when she had his still hardening cock in hand did she break the kiss.
"I take it Skye and Wanda got to you first." Natasha said, stroking him slowly, as if trying to taunt Harry into thrusting into her hand. She glanced down at his cock, judging him to be erect, but not hard enough. "Figures. How many times did they make you cum?"
"Twice with Skye, three times with Wanda." Harry said, before letting a groan bubble from his throat. He'd long been disabused of the impulse to try to hide his moans, knowing how much all three of his lovers loved to hear them.
"Hm." Natasha hummed, and with complete seriousness declared "Guess I have to make you cum four times, then." Harry would not have thought he'd be capable of such a thing, but the moment that Nat announced it he felt an utter certainty that she could do it. Her sheer, plain faced confidence was irresistible. If Natasha Romanoff wanted something, she got it. In an instant his cock surged to full, urgent, hardness and she gave him that cocky, crooked smile that she always had when everything had gone according to plan, like she had him exactly where she wanted him.
He thanked Merlin for his magically enhanced stamina. He was certain these women would have been the death of him otherwise. Perhaps they still might be.
She ripped open his button-down shirt, exposing his chest and torso to air, and pushed him back onto the desk so that he was flat on his back. She followed him, just for a moment, so that she could lean into his ear and whisper "Stay." When he nodded, she followed this up by giving his shaft a light stroke and adding "Good boy. Nat disappeared from his view, and when she strode back, he had to crane his neck to see her. He couldn't look away. Natasha was stunning even on her worst days. Even when caked with mud, blood, and grime she was deadly beautiful. But now, when she wasn't just trying, but putting her all into the effort, 'beautiful', 'sexy', and 'attractive' didn't do her justice. It was almost supernatural.
She moved so fluidly, like a cat stalking its prey, except there was no hint of stealth in how she held herself. In fact, her every move seemed designed to draw attention. He stayed transfixed on her, and her body that was somehow both sinewy muscles and ample curves, and on the woman who knew exactly how to flaunt both. She leapt onto the desk, crouching on top of him, and Harry's hands automatically went to her, sliding up her stomach and marveling at the tensing strength of her core muscles, before moving to marvel at the soft suppleness of her breasts. "Fffuck, I missed this." She hissed, rolling her hips to grind against him.
"It's only been a day." Harry said weakly.
"And it's been what, two hours for you?" She smirked "And here you are, hard and eager for my pussy." She sank down on him, which really was the ultimate power ploy. Harry groaned, his hips arching greedily up into hers, losing himself as he buried himself into Nat's encompassing femininity. She would go on to show just how true that was (and her determination to follow through on her goal) over the next four rounds of sex. First by riding him, her hips pounding into his hard enough for him to see stars as he came twice in succession. Then by seating herself on the office chair, spreading her legs, and ordering him to 'start licking'. And then by seating him on the chair and alternating between using her mouth and sliding his cock between her cleavage.
She was never more open to him when it came to sex- love, lust, aggression, joy, it all came pouring out of her like a burst dam. She'd blatantly ogle him and praise him in the lewdest terms. She'd scream, moan, cry and curse, holding back no profanity, demand, or plea from him. She'd buck and writhe like she was being exorcised, grappling, thrusting, clawing as she took advantage of every bit of pleasure his body had to offer her. Finally, when they were finished, high and sweat slick together on the desk, she cuddled and clung to him shamelessly, whispering straight from her so closely guarded heart. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
"I love you too." Harry promised.
"I'm never letting you go again." Was hers.
-----
As often as not, however, their days were taken- meeting and missions and training. It made dating… difficult, especially as they tried to keep the true nature of their relationship on the down low. The made up for it during the nights, which would be some enticing combination of positions, toys, and powers. At the end of it, Harry would feel sated, down to his very core, blissfully, wonderfully fulfilled. And he wasn't just carnally satisfied, he had never felt so loved and cared for. He lived for the moments where they were bathing in the afterglow, cuddling together with Nat, Skye, and Wanda as they drifted off to sleep.
It was only a matter of time before they were caught, and the extent of their relationship would be unveiled to the rest of the team. It hard started with Clint walking in on Natasha kissing him in the kitchen area. Nat had looked downright humiliated, not at being caught kissing, but at having been so absorbed that she'd been snuck up on. Thankfully, Skye had been in the room, and had hardly reacted to Clint's entrance or his subsequent look of shock. After a few moments of processing, he declared "You know what, I'm not even going to ask." Then he walked out, not even having gotten whatever he'd come for.
Tony had taken it the 'best', in that he gleefully used it as an opportunity to poke fun at them, particularly Natasha. He found it hilarious that feared spy Natasha Romanoff had (in his words) 'joined a harem'. After a week of lethal looks, she had taken Tony aside and had a conversation with him about his humor. At which point Tony graciously and without any coercion whatsoever dropped the jokes.
Steve, however, had just been confused. Harry felt a little sorry for him, he'd done an admirable job of adjusting his perspective for the new times. Harry was surprised at how accepting he was of gay relationships. But this might have been a bridge too far, particularly since polyamory wasn't exactly… common. Harry hadn't quite followed Steve's thought process, but he knew that the man had taken Natasha, Skye, and Wanda aside in turn and talked. Eventually, the man warmed back up to Harry, almost as if nothing had happened.
It had helped that the man had been absolutely elated by Bucky's return from Wakanda. Shuri had developed a compound that, through some indecipherable technical jargon was able to 'reset artificially created neural pathways'. The super-soldier couldn't have been more different than the erratic captive they'd taken into custody last year, and just like that the Avengers gained another member.
Harry had also been worried about how Pietro would react, but Wanda had just rolled her eyes when Harry had brought it up. Apparently, the speedster was taking full advantage of his new fame and having as much sex as he could with as many people as he could. Any criticism he might have of Harry or Wanda would have been utterly hypocritical, and none came.
So surprisingly, the reveal of their relationship came with very little drama. While they held off on too much PDA, they no longer had to hide anything. Harry could cuddle with Wanda on a couch, or comfort Natasha with a pat on the shoulder. It was… incredible. It had eased Harry's (perhaps irrational) fear that the four of them were becoming glorified friends with benefits. The separation between their relationship behind closed doors and out in the open had been resolved.
Dating was still… problematic. Coming out to the Avengers was one thing. Coming out to the general public would unleash a wave of press, scrutiny, and interest that none of them were interested in courting. As such, they had to be discrete- using Natasha's covert skills and Harry's magic to slip away, find some out of the way trail, park, or restaurant just for a chance to get away from the Avengers compound.
But more than anything, Harry was happy. It felt like he was living someone else's life. Harry had friends, practically a family, who accepted him and loved him. He'd never felt more loved and cared for in his life. He felt like he belonged with the Avengers, that together, they could do anything together and take on the world.
While his personal life had literally never been better, not everything was so easy. Wakanda and the Avengers were waging a war on Hydra, but their current actions of picking off cells and responding to Hydra ops were nothing more than a holding action. They could only hope the Madame Hydra believed that was all they were up to, because in reality these operations were just a distraction. Something to keep Hydra occupied while they tried to develop a trump card.
There were two main thrusts to this strategy. The first was to develop the ability to respond in force the next time Madame Hydra attacked openly. Having Harry teleport across the world half-dead and unsupported was not a viable strategy. Tony had developed a global drone network he'd dubbed 'Ultron' that would be able to respond anywhere, anytime, but it simply wasn't enough. Harry could side-along apparate people, and Pietro could carry someone with him when he ran, but both of those methods were limited, both in how many people they could take and how far they could take them. They had been stumped, until Thor suggested a solution that had caused Tony to facepalm.
The Bifrost.
Of course.
Thor had explained that Heimdal could bring the team to Asgard, and then anywhere on Earth in a few minutes. Thor had been pleasantly surprised at how willing his father was to let him remain on Earth but retrieving and securing the Staff had become a top priority of Asgard as well. Frankly, Harry felt a bit foolish, tearing his body apart going across the world when he could have just asked Thor to take the entire team to Wakanda. As Thor proclaimed, the next time Madame Hydra showed herself, she'd immediately meet the full might of the Avengers.
But a reactive strategy wasn't enough. The Wakandans were demanding that they take the fight to Hydra- another reason for their decision to rather fruitlessly pick off Hydra cells. This became increasingly apparent as weeks turned to months without major developments from Hydra. The organization had once again gone into hibernation, likely planning something big for their next move. They needed a method of hunting down Madame Hydra herself and securing her staff once and for all. Both Wakanda and Tony had attempted to hack into Hydra's networks through their captured tech, but inexplicably their information security system was ridiculously formidable.
Wanda quickly became their great hope. Wanda's powers had come from the staff, and she could almost effortlessly negate its effects. If she could sever the connection between people and the staff so easily, perhaps she could establish one as well. Perhaps she could use that to hunt Madame Hydra down and bring the Bifrost down on her head.
That was easier said than done, of course. Wanda was able to detect the staff when she presented with someone under its effects, but as soon as she started trying to follow that trail back, Madam Hydra noticed, and shut it down. As disappointing as it was, Harry had suspected that it wouldn't have been quite so easy. Keeping track of Voldemort through Harry's scar had never been a reliable strategy, and had relied as much on Harry getting lucky as anything. Harry and Wanda had committed themselves to further attuning her abilities- extending the reach, control, and sensitivity of her telepathy using the oldest method in the book- practice. She was making progress, but Harry's suspicion was that they were really just waiting for Madame Hydra to slip up and reveal herself. It would only take one moment of weakness for her entire operation to come crashing down.
There was one other option, one that was particularly risky- espionage.
"No." Natasha said flatly.
Tony's suggestion had been indelicate. Everyone knew that Natasha's past was off limits, with big yellow caution tape wrapped around it. Yet, the question did need to be asked, and of course it was Tony who took it upon himself to ask it.
"So, you don't have any contacts from before Shield, no dark underworld ties that might be working with Hydra that you could call in?"
"How do you think I became a part of Shield?" Natasha said, her voice low "I burned those bridges, in some cases quite literally."
"It's true." Clint said, with a hint of pride "If there's anything left of the Red Room, no one there would want anything to do with her. Not after how she fucked them up."
For a moment, Harry thought the matter was settled, until he caught just a hint of doubt in Natasha's eyes. It was papered over in a second by a mask of annoyance, but it had been unmistakable.
He wondered who had caused that flicker of doubt. Who held that tie she couldn't quite let go of? Might it be worth it to find them?
-----
Zola simply had no choice but to follow Elisa Sinclair. He had to follow her orders, could not tell a lie, and could not cause her harm. The power of the staff, and the mind stone within, ensured that. It was why he'd acceded to her leadership. It was why he willingly copied his code onto a digital format, even though it effectively meant the death of the original copy. Both of these things had been for the best. He had far more flexibility and opportunities now than he did in the vault at Camp Lehigh. But the power she wielded was fickle. It did not turn people into mindless drones, it converted them into a version of themselves that was loyal to her. Zola certainly wasn't a normal person, if he could be considered a person at all, and even when he had been flesh and blood his loyalty had always been tempered by a healthy dose of self-interest. He was not nearly as under her control as Sinclair thought, and he planned on keeping it that way. Zola still could think, act on his own accord, and even in his own interests. He could not, would not betray Sinclair, but he could see her flaws, and knew that he should be preparing for the possibility of her failing.
So when Sinclair had asked him to build a container that could hold and harness the power of the mind stone, he asked for specifications. He did not mention that he not only had not only designed an object that could act as a conduit, but was in the process of fabricating it from pilfered Wakandan technology- carefully, diligently, layer by layer. Sinclair's specifications were much more… limited than his own. So he was honestly able to tell her that he would begin drawing up a design for her approval, and then begin the fabrication process.
He could only hope that he could stall her from breaking open that staff and accessing the mind stone itself. Power like that would never stay hidden. He knew that as soon as she accessed it, there would be chaos. Whether to help her or assert control after her demise, the body would need to be ready.