Steve POV
Steve turned over in bed, to find the space next to him empty. In the darkness, he searched for his phone and checked the time. It was after 7 am, but the sun still wouldn’t begin to rise for another hour. Days were short and nights were cold in Myvatn, Iceland, but Steve felt warmer in the last two months than he ever had before in his life.
He exited from under the six down comforters insulating his bed and entered the main- and only other- room of his and Bucky’s cottage. The fireplace was lit, and there was coffee percolating in the machine, but the room was vacant. Steve pulled his coat on and checked the thermometer. 40* Fahrenheit, but the wind would make it feel closer to 0. He bundled it tighter around himself and ventured outside, shuffling along the pathway to the enclosure leading to the pastures. The incessant snow storms had finally stopped last month, and the last of the piles had melted away under the heat of the June sun. Steve had begun to feel rather waterlogged all throughout May, and he was beginning to miss the DC sun, but the sun was actually quite strong and warm if the effect wasn’t ruined by the wind.
He found Bucky sitting on the little three-legged stool, pulled up next to their pregnant Ewe, Dorothy. Carol had warned them not to name their sheep so they wouldn’t get attached, but Steve always had a problem not getting attached to things. “How’s she doin’?” He asked Bucky, standing behind him and working his hands down to his thick shoulders to massage his muscles, gently buried under a layer of pudge the early spring had added.
“Good. She looks huge, I almost feel bad that she isn’t due for another two weeks.”
“Mm.” Steve crouched next to him on the ground, wary of the droppings that littered the dirt floor. “You have breakfast yet?”
Bucky half-turned to face him, and smiled into a kiss. “No. Not like I thought I’d ever be hungry again after last night.” His stomach betrayed him with a growl.
Steve laughed. “Sounds like you two are in disagreement, there.”
Bucky responded by kissing him again, and slipping his tongue between Steve’s lips. Steve pulled back with a chuckle. “Ugh, let’s do that inside. Smells like sheep out here.”
Bucky swatted his behind. “Yeah, and you taste like morning breath, but you don’t hear me complaining.” He followed Steve back up the path. “Hey, who’s that, off in the distance?”
Steve squinted in the dark, barely making out a figure in light blue, reflective coat catching the lantern from their porch. “I dunno. Do we have a meeting with Carol today?”
Bucky shook his head, leaning forward to bite Steve’s neck. “Think I can make you come before they get here?”
“Bucky!” Steve chastised, turning pink nevertheless. “Absolutely not.” He pulled the bigger man inside, and got to work at making breakfast.
There was a brisk knock on their door a few minutes later (“Think you coulda made it, pal,” Bucky remarked, ducking a dish towel Steve had thrown in his direction), and Bucky answered it to reveal Maria’s smiling face. “Good morning! Come inside, it’s cold.”
Maria thanked him and stepped inside.
“Could I offer you some pancakes? There’s plenty.” Steve gestured at the mountain of perfectly golden pancakes he’d already made, enough for at least four.
“Oh, I shouldn’t, I already had breakfast, but they do smell good.”
“They are,” Bucky insisted. “And they’re blueberry, too.”
“...Well, why not?” Maria conceded, taking off her coat and giving it to Bucky’s outstretched arm. “Blueberries are my favourite.” She took a seat on the counter, ignoring the two chairs tucked underneath the island.
“So, what brings you here this morning?” Steve asked, flipping another pancake onto the pile.
“Well, Carol and I have good news, and we wanted to share it with you first.”
Steve grinned. “Really? We’re honoured.” After landing in Iceland, one of Bucky’s friends had set them up with fake identities and untraceable bank accounts. Bucky’s cover involved a major in agricultural science, and Steve had been reading everything Google could provide about sheep. They stayed at an Inn in Reykjavik for a few nights while Bucky contacted an Icelandic sheep farmer who was leasing a cottage and attached 13 acres (with Sheep). They’d met with her and her wife, and apparently they’d made a good enough impression on the couple, as they’d signed all paperwork and become fast friends. Since then, they’d gone from landladies and tenants, to neighbours borrowing sugar (a quickly diminishing ingredient from the Rogers-Barnes household), to fast friends.
“The adoption papers were approved. We’re bringing hope a little girl next month!”
“Congratulations!” Bucky gave her a tight huge, and Steve grinned from the stove. “How old?”
“She’s 11. A little bit older than we wanted, but that’s okay. Her name is Monica. We met her a few weeks ago, and we both really liked her, but it looked like she was going to be adopted by another family.” She paused for a moment, eating a few bites of pancake. “Mm, Steve, this really is amazing. Anyway, the agency looked like it was going to favour a heterosexual couple over Carol and I, but at the last moment the gentleman got a job offer and they moved to Asia. So, she’s coming to stay with us!”
“That’s wonderful, Maria. You and Carol are going to be wonderful mothers,” Steve encouraged.
At their insistence, Maria stayed for a while more, chatting about room decor and how excited she was. She didn’t even notice that Bucky managed to eat just over a dozen pancakes, but Steve couldn’t take his eyes off the brunet’s mouth as he swallowed every bite. By the time Maria left and they bid her their goodbyes and offer extra layers of warmth, his belly was swollen and tight.
“Oof, fuck, Steve,” Bucky cursed as he adjusted himself on the low couch near the fire. “Damn, she’s the one who’s expecting, but I sure look like it.”
Steve nodded enthusiastically, worrying his hands over Bucky’s tight hoodie, fingers itching to take it off and feel the hot skin underneath. “Guess spring’s the time to get knocked up,” he remarked.
Bucky chuckled. “Guess so.” He complied with Steve’s vague gesturing, sitting up as much as he could so Steve could pull the hoodie off over his head, spreading his hands over the round globe and rubbing soothing circles into the sides. “Hang on, you’re not getting any ideas, are you?”
It took Steve a moment to process what he was saying. “Who, me?” In all honesty, Steve hadn’t ever thought seriously about being a father. He’d given up on that once he realized he was gay, and after his acceptance into the military, it became pretty clear that he wouldn’t be able to take a husband of his own. Granted, running away from America to become a diamond thief in Wakanda and then spend the rest of his life as a shepherd in Iceland wasn’t part of the plan, but no plans he could’ve ever made for his life would compare to having Bucky by his side. Since the beginning of their whirlwind relationship, he’d been letting himself be more cognizant of his own desires and feelings. He’d put aside every instinct he had to get on the plane with Bucky, and every rule he’d ever learned didn’t seem to apply anymore. They’d gone from enemies who wouldn’t trust each other in the slightest to boyfriends moving in together in the span of a couple of weeks, and while it had been more perfect than Steve thought was possible, it had been very fast. He hadn’t regretted co-signing the leasing document with Bucky, and he wouldn’t sacrifice waking up next to him every morning for everything, but they hadn’t talked about their future. They hadn’t talked about what they were any further than before the plane when they confessed their love to each other, either. Iceland had been an endless parade of days filled with sex, tending after sheep, watching Bucky eat egregious amounts of food and his waistline expand in correspondence, and more sex. It felt powerful, incredibly joyous and idyllic, but also fragile. Steve knew Bucky very intimately, but he was still afraid to say the wrong thing. They’d skipped so many of the natural stages of a relationship, and it left Steve on rather uneasy footing. He didn’t know what Bucky’s taste in furniture was, so he let the brunet take care of the decorating. He didn’t know what it was okay to call the other man, so he let him set the standard for terms of endearment. He didn’t know what Bucky’s libido was like three or four months into a relationship, so he let Bucky initiate sex. He really, really loved the man, more deeply than he’d ever loved anyone, and it frightened him a little. It wasn’t that he thought Bucky might hurt him- rather, he was afraid that by saying the wrong thing or acting the wrong way, he’d disappoint Bucky. So for the most part, he kept his fears to himself, only talking about what was to come next if Bucky mentioned it first.
So when Bucky playfully asked Steve if he wanted children, it took him by surprise a little.
“Uh, no. Ha. No way. I couldn’t-- I don’t ever-- How, even, would you, like? I don’t- not really. Kids aren’t my, uh, I’m… “ he stammered, brain running through a million different possible responses and failing to choose one.
Bucky’s face turned nervous. “Hey, it’s okay. I was just joking. I wasn’t serious. I know we’re not ready. I mean, it’s okay, we don’t ever have to be, if you don’t want to. Is that… are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve said quickly. “Yeah.” He repeated himself, grinding his erection down onto Bucky’s thigh. “Forget it. Let’s just. Uh.”
Bucky laughed, bracing Steve’s shoulders with his strong arms. “You wanna ride me, honey?”
“Yes. Please, sir. I want to feel your cock inside me.” Steve knew Bucky loved it when he ran his filthy mouth, and it got him off, too, to go on like that. He had a tendency to babble, but when his mind was on the right track, he could talk for hours about how good Bucky made him feel.
“Okay, sweetheart. Unbuckle my belt.”
Steve reached under Bucky’s belly to find the strap. The belt was fastened on the last loop, and it gave Steve a thrill of excitement, his dick twitching. After Steve confessing that he didn’t think Bucky should lose weight, the brunet put aside all hopes of dieting, and proceeded to pile on another twenty or so pounds in two months. He’d outgrown his old size, but the clothes they’d packed for Wakanda didn’t work for Icelandic weather, anyway. They’d purchased new wardrobes in a local thrift store (‘local’ meaning ‘a two hour ride’ in the beat up Jeep Steve had bought, the Icelandic equivalent of a quick drive down the street), Bucky griping the whole time about how hard it was to find clothes in a 2XL size that fit his style. He’d had to give up worn out band tees, jeans, and stylish jackets for thick cargo pants, flannels, and many layers of fur-lined coats, but if Steve was being honest, he found Bucky hot in everything.
He slipped the belt out of the loops with some difficulty to find his pants unbuttoned underneath. Bucky sighed, letting out a breath he’d been holding for far too long, and his belly pushed down the zipper the rest of the way. Steve ran his fingers over the red imprints his belt and pants had left in his plush skin. Bucky lifted up his hips, and Steve worked his pants and boxers down his hips. “God, honey. Feel so full.”
Steve skimmed one hand over his thick side like a prayer, writing his worship into Bucky’s body with his fingertips. “You look it. Shit, how many pancakes did you have?”
“Fourteen,” Bucky groaned. They’d been medium sized, not quite big enough to fill a whole plate, but not small enough to be considered silver dollars. The amount was still impressive. “Ugh. ‘M not gonna be able to get these pants on at all, soon.”
Steve squeezed the fattest part of his tummy, below his belly button. “It’s cause you try to button them over this.”
“Yeah, well, if I didn’t, my gut would hang over the waistband,” Bucky argued.
“So let it hang.”
Bucky made a face. “It’ll poke out underneath my shirts.”
Steve licked over Bucky’s nipple, making him hiss. “Then tuck your shirt in.”
“That’s easy enough for you to say. You have a waist like a cheerleader.” He grabbed Steve’s hips and situated him on his lap better, instantly shutting him up. All he ever had to do to make Steve’s mind go completely blank was to manhandle him. “Take your shirt off.”
“Yes… sir.” Steve automatically replied to all verbal commands with a ‘yes, sir’. It was something that had been ingrained in him from the army, and with the dynamic they’d naturally fallen into, Bucky didn’t seem to mind it, either. But there were other things he wanted to call Bucky, too. Things that seeing him a good twenty pounds heavier, bearded and letting his hair grow out, wearing rough clothes and fixing fences in snowstorms inspired. He looked up at Bucky’s face, into his beautiful eyes, begging the man to let him say it.
Please, please, please, be what I want you to be. Please be okay with it. Please love me. Please.
But, he was worried he was too needy, too annoying, too clingy. It wasn’t enough to have physical contact with Bucky every hour of the day. It wasn’t enough to live in a house so small they breathed in each other’s air with every moment. It wasn’t enough to be on an island so small they could make Ring Road in 13 hours. It wasn’t enough, not until he had all of him, every last part, and everything that was left afterward. Steve wanted Bucky with such a furious desire that it was incendiary, catching fire within his chest, and keeping it to himself was burning him alive. He wanted more. So much more than he could ever describe, much more than he was certain Bucky would ever want to give. And he didn’t want his options to be ‘more’ or ‘nothing’, so he settled for ‘some’.
“Sir,” he choked out, voice breaking in a sort of sob. He physically ached, so hard he felt like he was tearlessly weeping, gasps and shudders tearing apart his ribs and making him desperately huff for air. He could feel his heartbeat in the tip of his nose. He dug his fingers into Bucky’s shoulders as he lined up, too preoccupied with their actions to bother with a condom, nothing but the lube from the bottle they kept under the couch to ease his entrance. He pleaded, screaming the words with his mind, so loud he thought he could shatter glass at will. Please, please, please, please.
“Tell me what you want, honey,” Bucky grunted, easing Steve down onto him.
He paused, walls adjusting. They’d talked about unprotected sex, and as both of them tested negative for any STIs, it was never something they shied away from unless they were avoiding a mess.
Steve hissed, the sensation of being stretched out burning the thoughts in his mind before they could escape his lips. He’d never get tired of the sensation of skin on skin, his ass sitting on Bucky’s thighs as he bottomed out, dick pressing against Bucky’s hard stomach.
“Steve, talk to me,” Bucky panted.
Steve loved him. God, he loved him. He was so considerate, and he knew Steve almost too well. “Nothing. I’m just… overthinking again. Sorry. You know me,” Steve tried to joke.
“Hey, is it about what I said earlier? ‘Cause it really was a joke, if you want to talk about kids--”
“No, no, please.” Steve didn’t want to ruin the mood. He wanted Bucky inside him, around him, and he was so close to finishing. He didn’t want to disappoint Bucky. He wanted to be good, so good. He rocked forward, careful not to jostle Bucky too much. Everything felt too good, too sharp, and he was afraid it would end too soon. “Can I… please, sir,” Steve whimpered.
“Do you need to come, baby? Come for me, Stevie, you’re so good for me.”
Steve arched his back and came, spilling all over Bucky’s stomach like he liked. The best part about living two miles away from the closest neighbour was that he could scream as loud as he wanted and no one would ever hear him. He’d thought before that he was a silent lover, but it turned out that the right partner could make him howl.
Bucky pulled out, and after the last of Steve’s orgasm had torn through him, he bent his head down to finish Bucky off. It didn’t take much; he licked his tongue over the slit and felt Bucky’s balls tighten, and then he hollowed his cheeks and swallowed down the other man’s load.
Bucky worked his fingers into Steve’s hair, not pulling or pushing, just resting on his head. “God, yes, sweetheart, that feels so good.”
When he was done, Steve pulled off and came up to kiss his mouth. “I love you,” he whispered, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to shout it until his voice was raw. He wanted to paint it into the hills with gasoline and set the words on fire. He wanted to align the stars in space until the whole world could read his proclamation.
“I love you, too,” Bucky responded with a smile, and it felt like everything. Everything Steve had ever desired, filling up his heart and his mind. Everything, but not enough.