Bucky POV
Bucky returned to the cart a moment later with a ripe cantaloupe in his hands. He loved Steve, but the man did not know how to pick a ripe melon. He cast a glance into the cart and saw a few half pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, cherry garcia and karamel sutra.
“Isn’t a bit cold for ice cream?” he asked.
Steve shrugged. “You don’t have to eat it.”
Bucky eyed the freezer, then pulled out a pint of phish food, too. “This kind’s my favourite.”
Sometimes, the domestic things with Steve were his favourite. It was an unexpected upside to running away with his boyfriend.
A romantic song came on the radio of the boom box that was set on the single check-out lane. It was the second closest grocery store to their cottage (closest being a 45 minute drive) but it was worth it for the variety of food. It’s the important things, Bucky reminded himself. Like ice cream.
Bucky started swaying his hips and humming a little. He didn’t know the song, but it was catchy and repetitive.
Steve chuckled. “Putting on a show for me?”
Bucky sighed. “I missed dancing. You know, they didn’t have a single dance at prison?”
Steve cast him the same tolerant yet amused look he did whenever Bucky made jokes about his time as an inmate. “Shocking. I’ll have to write the board about that.”
Feeling romantic, Bucky took Steve’s hand that wasn’t picking a head of lettuce. “Guess we’ll just have to make it up now.”
“Bucky,” Steve hissed, eyes darting toward the ancient cashier, who was too busy reading a newspaper to care what they did. “Can’t it wait until we get home?”
“Why should it?” Bucky exclaimed, spinning Steve jovially. “‘I bloom just for you!’” he sung.
Steve cocked an eyebrow, allowing himself to twist until he came to rest with his back to Bucky’s chest, hand holding Bucky’s in front of him. He was a good dancer, although Bucky supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. “That’s proven to be mostly untrue, but okay.” He let go and stepped forward, cheeks as red as the tomato he was selecting.
“What do you mean?” Bucky stepped forward, putting a hand on Steve’s small waist, unwilling to give up their dance just yet.
Steve smiled mischievously. “This song’s about bottoming, sweetheart. If memory serves correctly, I’m usually the one in that department.”
“Hm,” Bucky said pensively, drawing close to Steve’s ear. “Well, maybe I’ll let you fuck me tonight,” he whispered.
“Very romantic,” Steve brushed him off, heading toward the bread aisle.
Bucky followed him with the cart. “Hey! I’m trying to be romantic, here. You’re the one that won’t dance with me.”
“Time and a place, Bucky,” Steve said, exasperated. “Wheat or white?”
“Hey, c’mon a sec.” Bucky gently took Steve’s elbow until the blond faced him. “Let’s talk about it. You think I should be more romantic?”
Steve blushed again, looking somewhere just to the left of Bucky’s face. “We’ve been together for only two months.”
“So? So, if you’re saying I should make more candlelit dinners, I will. Maybe a little more dine and less wine, I get it. And hey, if you want to slow it down, we can. We can cuddle instead. You know, we usually just make out when we watch movies, but I love movies. We could try actually watching--”
“That’s not the point,” Steve cut him off. “I don’t mean I want to slow things down. It’s just… we had sex first, before we even really knew each other.” And we still don’t, Bucky felt like he almost added. “Sometimes I miss the cutesy stuff.”
“Okay. So I’ll hold your hand and take you on a ferris wheel. If I can find one. We can go for walks in the beach in the summer, whatever you want, honey. Just tell me.”
“I don’t know what I want!” Steve was getting exasperated. Bucky knew that he tended to only get angry when he was frustrated, and he was usually frustrated with himself and his inability to fix things. Next would come tears, and while Bucky didn’t mind comforting Steve while he cried, he knew that Steve would rather not break down in a grocery store.
“Okay, it’s okay, Stevie. That’s alright. Take your time to think about it, if you want. You can take as long as you need, and whenever you have it figured out, you just let me know, okay?”
Steve didn’t verbally respond, and it made Bucky nervous, not knowing what he was thinking. He wanted to help him, but how was he supposed to if he didn’t know when Steve needed him to give?
“Steve?” he prompted.
Steve nodded, his blond hair flopping out of the smooth coif he’d gelled it into that morning. “Yes. Okay.” But Bucky still wasn’t sure he’d entirely understood. He’d let it go for now, at least.
“Okay.” Bucky smiled at him, hoping he was being reassuring at least. “So, for bread… let’s get French bread. It’ll go better with dinner, yeah?”
They decided on spaghetti and meat sauce with garlic bread and cauliflower. While the noodles were boiling and the meatsauce was simmering, Bucky sneakily got out some tealight candles and set them on the counter. Steve gave him a soft smile when he lit them, and Bucky felt his chest tighten. Dinner was good, if the noodles were a little too al dente and the cauliflower was a little too soggy. But he was eating next to Steve, and when he wasn’t using both hands to twirl his noodles he’d take Bucky’s free hand on the table. After dessert, they went to sleep spooning.
Steve helped Dorothy deliver her two lambs, and the flock needed less attention. As the weather got warmer, Steve took to taking long walks along the countryside alone. Bucky didn’t mind; he knew the former officer needed some time to clear his head, and space is good for a relationship, anyway. Sometimes he took the Jeep so he could drive someplace and then walk there. Bucky would usually FaceTime Nat or someone else from the crew, keeping touch and seeing how they were spending their hundreds.
He also took to have a pint of ice cream every night before bed. Steve had bought 5, and they were all in the fridge, and it seemed like Steve wasn’t going to eat them. It was nice. He really liked ice cream, when he thought about it. There hadn’t really been a time in his life when it was as accessible as now, and he enjoyed the variety of flavours.
The pints went quickly, though, and Bucky wasn’t about to replace them himself the next time they went shopping. After Steve’s walk one day, however, Bucky opened the fridge to find seven new pints on the shelf. There were three new flavours, and all seven of them were finished the next time they went shopping. Both of the weeks following that, Steve had added the pints into the cart without checking with Bucky. It was a nice routine he was building up; the perfect end to a perfect day. He almost couldn’t think of a single thing he’d wish in his life that he didn’t already have. He woke up every morning next to a beautiful man, they’d tend the sheep and pop over to see how Carol and Maria were doing, he’d read for a while near the fireplace, he and Steve had sex almost every day, he’d have his ice cream, and they’d go to bed. It wasn’t talked about, but it always put a smile on his face to see that Steve had gotten more.
After three weeks of having a pint of ice cream every night, however, it was getting harder to button his pants. He didn’t want to mention to Steve that he wanted to go shopping for more clothes, so he figured that left him with one other option.
“Hey, maybe don’t get any ice cream this time, okay?” Bucky suggested while Steve was putting their customary seven pints into the cart. It killed him to bring it up, this thing Steve was being so good by doing, this thing that made him so happy by having. But a too much of a good thing won’t be good for long, right?
Steve blinked at him for a moment, but then just shrugged. “Okay.” He put the ice cream back.
Bucky felt his dread coil in the pit of his stomach for a moment, but he assured himself he was being ridiculous. It’s just ice cream. Shut up about it already.
Still, he couldn’t get it out of his mind for the rest of the day. Steve had agreed so quickly, and with no resistance. Back at the airport, he’d said Bucky didn’t need to lose any weight, but maybe Bucky shouldn’t gain any, either.
Too late, he thought ruefully, scowling at his reflection. How much did he even weigh, anyway? Certainly more than in Wakanda. And even there, it had been more than in prison. The last time he’d weighed himself had to have been years ago. Maybe even as far away as the last time he’d had his mandatory annual doctor appointment in prison, and back then he’d clocked in at a husky 220. Being overweight helped in prison. Made him feel protected, larger. Miles away from the skinny little kid he’d been in college. And sure, maybe it was fucked up. But it kept him safe.
Now, though, he knew he was safe. His days were a blur of relaxing and eating. Steve did most of the heavy lifting when it came to spreading more bales of hay in the enclosure, or moving fallen tree branches, or making repairs on the fence. He hadn’t expressed any unwillingness to do manual labour, just a quick efficiency when something needed to be done, and Bucky was content to let him do it. When the time came for both of them to have to use their muscle, though, Bucky didn’t want to fall behind. He wanted to impress the other man, as silly as it might have seemed.
So yeah, maybe slimming down wasn’t a bad idea. He didn’t need three plates of pasta. Maybe he’d wake up and go running, or ask Steve if he could join him on a walk or two. It wouldn’t kill me to fork some of the heavy bales of hay myself, he thought. Or lift weights. Or logs. Whatever people in Iceland lift.
He opened the Amazon app on his phone, searching for a scale. It was a start.
Four days later, he was scrolling through Twitter when Steve came up to him, holding a small box.
“What’s that?”
“I dunno, it’s for you. Want scissors?”
Bucky nodded, and Steve came back a moment later. He read the shipping label. “Oh, yeah, I forgot I ordered this.” He took the scissors. “It came sooner than I expected,” he remarked.
Steve hovered for a moment. Bucky didn’t continue opening the box. “What is it?”
“Uh, a scale.”
“Oh. For the sheep? That’s a good idea.”
“Yeah!” Why didn’t I think of that? “We can make sure Dorothy’s lambs are healthy.” Carol had been by yesterday to check on them, and she’d insisted that they refer to them as ‘46 and 47’, not ‘Toto and Scarecrow’ as Steve had already named them.
Steve took out the scale after Bucky opened the box. They found some D batteries and the machine blinked to life. “Would you mind weighing them? The meatloaf’s cooking and I don’t want to burn it.”
Bucky went out to the enclosure and greeted the lambs. They wouldn’t be weaned for another month, but they were up and walking. Bucky chose Scarecrow first, setting the scale on the straw and attempting to get him to stand on it. The lamb bleated as he tried to get all four hooves on. “I know, hold on,” he muttered, picking up the lamb. Dorothy eyed him from the corner, but she trusted him enough not to interfere.
Scarecrow bleated again and gave a little kick, running back over to her mother. Bucky sighed and pulled out his phone.
JBB: Are you sure we didn’t accidentally get goats? These things are impossible.
SGR: xD
What do they weigh?
JBB: No fucking clue. Can’t get them to stand on the scale.
SGR: Omg
You really are a shitty shepherd
Weigh yourself, then pick up the lamb and weigh yourself again.
Bucky bristled.
JBB: Why do I have to weigh myself first?
SGR: ...
So you know the starting weight, genius. You subtract your weight from the combined weight and then get the weight of the lamb.
Bucky pocketed his phone, but it chimed a moment later.
SGR: I can do it after dinner if you like.
Bucky tapped out his response.
JBB: No, it’s fine. Just give me a sec.
He took a deep breath and stepped on the scale.
264, the green numbers read.
Bucky stared at it in shock, then jumped as his phone chimed again.
“For the love of…” he muttered, pulling it out again.
SGR: What’s it say?
Bucky froze.
SGR: The lamb.
JBB: Keep your shirt on.
SGR: No
Bucky picked up Toto first, letting Scarecrow take a little break, then his sister, subtracting the numbers in his head.
JBB: Scarecrow is 16 lbs. Toto is 14
He put the aggravated lamb down, then turned the scale off and went back inside. As he entered, the timer on Steve’s phone went off. “Meatloaf’s ready!” he called from the oven. Bucky stepped up to his phone to shut off the timer.
SmartScale™: 3 notifications
Bucky’s heart stopped for a moment and a chill rushed down his back. No, no, no, he begged, swiping on the notification to see the preview.
5:55 pm: 264 lbs
5:57 pm: 278 lbs
6:01 pm: 280 lbs
He quickly deleted the notification and cursed himself for getting a smart scale. He’d purchased the scale from their joint account, which had Steve’s number connected. Steve must have downloaded the app while he was out with the sheep. Bucky prayed he hadn’t seen the numbers yet. His text giving their weight was unread, so it was possible that Steve had gone to check the meatloaf before the notification came through. Bucky tapped through to the app and turned off “auto-update weight in phone”.
“Thanks,” Steve said, startling him.
He quickly set down his phone and turned off the display. “What?” he stuttered.
“For shutting off the alarm,” Steve clarified. “Uh… are you ready?”
“Yeah! Sorry. Let’s eat.” Bucky took a seat at the counter.
“Want a beer?” Steve asked, fetching his own from the fridge.
“Just water, thanks.”
Steve set down Bucky’s glass and his bottle. Bucky cut the meatloaf and served both of them slices. Steve started talking about the sheep, but Bucky was distracted, anxiety swirling all the thoughts in his head.
“Hey, you alright?”
“What? Sorry, yeah. This is good, Steve, thanks.”
Steve chuckled. “Could’ve fooled me.” He pointed with his fork to where Bucky’s slice was only half eaten. “Usually you inhale the whole loaf. Did I fuck up the recipe?”
“No, no, it’s perfect, really,” Bucky reassured him. He didn’t want to be an ass. “I guess I’m just not hungry.”
“Oh.” Steve shifted in his seat. “Well, there’s carrot cake, if that perks up your appetite at all.”
“What? Why’d you get carrot cake?”
“I thought you liked carrot cake,” Steve replied, his brow creasing.
“I do- I mean, I didn’t know there was dessert.”
“Of course. If you want, afterwards, you can guess which toy I have up my ass, and if you get it right, you can fuck me.”
That got Bucky’s mind on the right track instantly. “And what if I get it wrong?”
“Then I get to fuck you.”
Bucky’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You’re gonna top?”
Steve shrugged. “Depends on if you guess right or not.”
Bucky nodded. “Okay. But can we skip dessert.”
Steve smirked, writhing wickedly in his seat. “What, you just can’t wait?”
Bucky stood so suddenly his chair fell back, looming over Steve where he was still seated. He could hear the blond catch his breath. “You should know not to tease with something I want,” he warned, his voice throaty and turned on.
Steve’s pupils were dilated with lust. Bucky knew Steve loved it when he got dominating. One of these days, he was going to break out the really kinky shit on Steve. He’d been having dreams of the blond wearing frilly pink lingerie, of him pulling him on his lap and spanking him until his ass matched. But he knew they should talk about it first, and Steve seemed conflicted recently.
“And what if I do?” Steve pushed.
Bucky grabbed the back of the chair on either side of Steve’s shoulders, making him jump. He moved his face closer to Steve’s, until their noses were almost touching. “Then I’m going to take it,” he growled.
Steve closed the distance between them, sucking on Bucky’s lower lip and then licking into his mouth, a little slutty. Bucky was bent down so their heads were even, and Steve put his hands on the brunet’s waist.
Bucky stood before things could go any further. “How many guesses do I get?”
Steve squirmed, grinding down on the toy inside him. “One.”
Bucky hissed. “Do I get any hints?”
“I’m having a blast,” Steve told him, punctuating the sentence with a breathy little gasp.
Bucky smirked, lifting up his leg to put his booted heel on the gap in between Steve’s thighs on the chair. Steve was hard in his jeans, and Bucky balanced his heel on the chair, pressing the toe of his boot down onto Steve’s crotch the slightest bit. Steve gasped. “You made it too easy. Cherry bomb.”
The cherry bomb was Steve’s second favourite butt plug. It was cherry red, like the name suggested, and shaped like a teardrop, with the added sensation of an artificial cock head at the tip.
Steve grinned sloppily. “Wrong. Grenade.”
The grenade was just a little shorter, but about the same in width; it was bright blue and what it lacked in length it made up for in texture with ribbed protrusions similar to that of a hand grenade.
Bucky groaned and dropped his foot back to the floor. “Ugh. Fine, how do you want me?”
Steve stood, and as close as they were, his flat abdomen pressed against Bucky’s rounded one. “All fours, honey,” he instructed, bringing his arms up around Bucky’s neck and kissing the tip of Bucky’s nose.
He pulled back to get some lube, and Bucky went into the bedroom and took his pants and boxers off, kneeling on the bed.
Steve came in behind him and whistled. “Fuck, look at your ass. It’s a wonder I didn’t do this months ago.”
Bucky scoffed. “Don’t know if you can handle me. I’m a needy bottom.”
Steve chuckled. “I think I’m up to the task.”
Bucky drew in a quick breath when he felt Steve’s tongue inside his ass. “Shit!” he exclaimed, falling forward and arching his back to offer Steve a better angle.
Steve grabbed his ass with both hands, spreading him and licking further inside. He pulled his tongue out, and Bucky whined, but it was replaced a moment later with his lubed fingers. He stuck two in to start off with, and Bucky hissed.
“Sorry, honey, gotta get you ready for me.” While Bucky’s dick might have been just the slightest bit longer, Steve’s was certainly girthier. Bucky had wrapped his lips around it and had it down his throat often enough to get used to its thickness, but he’d never had it in his ass before.
“Just go slow,” he cautioned.
Steve tapped his ass, and Bucky could feel his stomach ripple with the motion. He still had his shirt on, but he felt so exposed and vulnerable like this, his belly in all of its 264 pound glory hanging down and his fat ass presented to Steve. “Of course, Bucky. You need me to go slower, you just let me know.” He worked in a third finger, and a moment later, Bucky felt his pink slip in as well. He let Bucky adjust for a moment, then crooked them in further.
“You wanna just stick your whole goddamn arm in while you’re down there?” Bucky muttered sarcastically over his shoulder, hoping that if Steve did indeed want to, he’d save it for another time.
Steve laughed in response. “Not today. Feel free to fist me if you want, though.” Bucky filed that away in his mind for next time.” He pulled out his hand, and Bucky felt nervous for a moment. Then he felt the head of Steve’s cock nudge his entrance. “Ready?”
He swallowed, then nodded. Steve braced himself with his hands on both sides of Bucky’s chunky waist, and eased himself in, inch by inch. Just as Bucky thought it would never end, Steve bottomed out, balls flush to Bucky’s ass.
“And you really like this?” Bucky grunted.
“Wiggle your ass around a little,” Steve suggested.
Bucky arched more, and Steve’s dick moved inside him, nudging at his prostate. He cried out and sank down against Steve, getting a better angle and fucking himself backward.
After a moment, Steve started to move in tangent with him, thrusting his hips forward in sharp little bursts that had Bucky sweating and getting hard. “Fuck, Bucky, you feel so tight, God,” Steve groaned.
“You still… have that toy in?” Bucky gasped.
Steve moaned an affirmative, stroking down Bucky’s back. “Yes. Shit. ‘Ve never fucked on both ends before.”
“That’s because you joined the military instead of going to college,” Bucky joked, circling his asshole in little motions around Steve’s prick.
Steve chuckled, though it turned to another moan halfway. He slapped Bucky’s ass a little, but it was more of a tap. “Fuck. I’m getting close.”
Bucky wasn’t quite there yet, but he braced himself, balling his fists into the sheets. “Okay.” He wished for a moment Steve had used a condom. He hated the feeling of come in his ass, especially when he was loose. “You mind…”
“You want me to pull out?” Steve asked, voice jolted a bit by the motion.
“Yes, baby,” Bucky responded immediately, before remembering that he was supposed to bottom. Well, it wasn’t like Steve had said that he wanted to be in control, just that he wanted to top. Steve seemed to relax, though, easing some of the stiffness as he gently pulled out of Bucky’s ass. Bucky turned over to watch him come, and Steve pumped his cock into his own fist. Bucky bent down his head, wordlessly asking to swallow him, and Steve moved his fist away so Bucky could cover his cock with his mouth. Steve bucked up once, and then his seed was all over Bucky’s tongue. He swallowed before sitting back up.
Steve nodded down to his own cock where it was sticking up and resting against the underside of his belly. “Return the favour?” he asked.
Bucky nodded and leaned back on the pillows. Steve put his head between his thighs, making the soft humming sound he always made when giving head. Each time he bobbed up, his forehead brushed against Bucky’s underbelly. It would’ve been embarrassing, but nothing could overpower the feeling of Steve’s tongue curling around his shaft. He came a moment later, and Steve swallowed, too, before coming up to give him a salty kiss.
They broke away, sweatily panting and laying side by side on the bed, catching their breath.
“So how’d you like bottoming?”
“For you? Anything,” Bucky admitted. “But I prefer it with me on top.”
“Me, too,” Steve responded, rolling on his side to kiss Bucky’s cheek before falling asleep with one arm slung over Bucky’s stomach.