Steve POV
It was almost warm enough in mid-July for Steve to trade his jeans in for shorts. Still, when a large cloud would pass over the sun, the shade was chilly enough for him to shiver and huddle against Bucky’s side.
Bucky chuckled and wrapped an arm around him, continuing to work on tagging Scarecrow and Toto. “Guess it’s not warm enough for those shorts, huh?”
They were the only pants Steve had brought from Wakanda, and he knew his ass looked spectacular in them. He frowned at the thought of not being able to wear them frequently. “Sure it is. I don’t need warm clothes, I have you.” Bucky put out enough heat for the two of them. He almost always slept entirely naked, and throughout the night Steve found himself shedding his own clothes in favour of wrapping himself around his human body pillow.
Bucky just turned his head and kissed Steve’s neck above his collarbone. Steve shrunk away from the kiss. “Stop! Your beard tickles.”
Bucky smirked wickedly. “So put on a scarf.”
Steve squirmed a little, trying to think of a good segue. He was wearing something under his clothes, something he’d never worn before. He was hoping Bucky might see a strap or a hem poking out from under his clothes and it would inspire him to hold Steve against a wall. It was a fantasy Steve’d had for a while, and the concept had been growing in his mind.
Last Saturday, Bucky had taken the jeep to a town far away to talk to someone about selling wool. Carol and Maria invited him to go shopping with them at the mall, and Steve didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. In preparation for Monica’s arrival, they were going to buy some toys. There was a Victoria’s Secret at the mall, and Steve stood for two full minutes in front of the window display, debating as to whether he should go in or not.
What the heck. We’re together, and we’re supposed to let each other know about our needs, right?
He knew Bucky wouldn’t make fun of him if he confessed what he wanted. That wasn’t what he was afraid of. Actually, he thought he might like Bucky to make fun of him a little.
What’s this, baby? He could picture him asking, pulling on a strap peeking over the top of his shorts. These are for girls. You want me to call you my girl, Steve? Sit you on my lap and touch your pretty tits until you get wet?
The thought burned through Steve with shame and arousal. He didn’t know how to bring it up, how to articulate this specific desire. There was something within him, probably left over from when his Mom used to take him to mass as a child, that made him feel guilty for getting what he wanted. It wasn’t that he was worried what his Ma would think; he thought of her often, and he was sure she’d be proud of him. She’d love Iceland. She’d love the sheep, and their house. She’d befriend Bucky and chat with Carol and Maria. She’d be able to answer all their questions about Monica, and she’d love the weather. She’d been a fiercely optimistic woman, kind and giving to everyone else in her life. They’d been dirt poor growing up, but Steve hadn’t wanted for anything. He didn’t realize until he was older how much Sarah had given up for him. She’d gone hungry so he could have dinner; taken second extra shifts at work so she could afford the tuition for Steve’s catholic school. Steve’s code on happiness had been built on Sarah’s shoulders.
Steve remembered one afternoon when she woke up after a double shift. He’d gotten home from school with a black eye, and she’d just sighed and given him the ice pack. After the swelling went down, she picked up the keys to her car. Let’s have an us day.
They drove and drove until they stumbled on a carnival in Virginia, and they went on the rides and she bought him ice cream- chocolate mint.
He’d licked the cone while sitting with her on a park bench across the carousel. She didn’t have enough money to buy herself a cone, too. Here, Steve had said, offering his cone over to her. You should have some, too.
Oh, don’t worry about me, Stevie, you just enjoy. I’m having fun enough just watching you.
He’d started to cry. He couldn’t finish his ice cream; he didn’t want it anymore. Sarah was entirely selfless, always going without so others could enjoy themselves. After she died, Steve lived a large part of his life believing that happiness only came from depriving yourself from pleasure.
But then Bucky had shown him that he could be good and happy. Bucky frequently acted selflessly- Steve had witnessed so many acts of kindness firsthand, and he’d spent 14 years in prison so that his friends could go free, after all. But he didn’t deny himself pleasure either. He’d reach for a fourth serving of dessert as often as he wanted, and the universe seemed to reward his hedonism kindly. They’d traveled such different paths, and still they ended up here, in paradise, together.
So Steve was doing his very best to cast away the thoughts of martyrdom and sacrifice and accept that he could be good and get what he wanted, too. One thing he knew for sure is that he was going to be very, very good for Bucky. And what he currently wanted might involve Bucky telling him how pretty he looked in lacey underwear.
“...Steve?” he heard Bucky ask, and realized he’d been calling his name.
“Hm? Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Could you pass me the tag?” He pointed to where the yellow tags were laying in the toolbox on the floor.
Steve crouched down to retrieve the little piece of plastic, and he heard Bucky inhale sharply. He spun around. “What?”
Bucky’s face was pink, and his eyes were fixed on Steve’s waist. He stepped forward into Steve’s space, then reached down and hooked his thumb through the band of Steve’s underwear.
Steve looked down and blushed. “Oh, that. I, um, thought you might like them. I can take it off. It’s dumb--”
“No,” Bucky growled, interrupting him. Steve met his eyes in shock. “I mean, no,” Bucky added, more softly. “Don’t take them off. I like it.”
Steve blushed deeper, looking away, over Bucky’s shoulder. “I have a matching top, too,” he muttered.
Bucky took his hand firmly and started walking briskly out of the enclosure and to the path toward their house.
“What are you doing?” Steve asked, but Bucky didn’t stop.
Once they were inside, Bucky pushed Steve down onto the sofa and straddled his waist. “Are you wearing it now?” he asked, his voice rough. Steve could see that his pupils were blown wide, his smokey blue iris reduced to a ring.
“What?” he stammered.
Bucky began fussing with his shirt, a simple button down. “The top. Are you…” He answered his own question when he got the first few buttons undone, fingers clumsy with hurry. He gasped gently, moving the collar of Steve’s shirt away until it revealed the bralette he wore. It was lacey and strappy, baby pink with roses woven into the pattern. The cups of the bra were transparent, doing nothing to hide his nipples. Bucky moved his hand over the bralette softly, his thumb whispering over the seam of the bra.
“I got it last weekend with Maria,” Steve rambled, feeling the need to fill the silence. “She saw me looking at the display, and she asked me if I wanted to go in. We looked at some of the different sets, but I liked this one. She-- she helped me go into the changing room and find one that fits. It doesn’t, really, but it’s--”
Bucky interrupted him again by kissing him. It was different than usual; Bucky took Steve’s chin with his hand, angling him how he wanted. From the first touch he had control, kissing Steve with an insistent fury and licking into his mouth. He pulled back, still holding Steve’s chin. “It’s perfect.”
“Really? Are you sure? It’s not too--”
“No, honey, really, you look so good.” Bucky sat up again and continued undoing the rest of the buttons. Once he had them undone, Steve leaned forward so he could take the shirt off completely. He felt bare and a little shy; the fire hadn’t been lit in weeks, and it was a little colder inside than out. He shivered a little, the air cold on his shoulders. He felt more exposed than if he’d not worn the bralette at all, but like this he felt like his chest was on full display. Bucky moved his legs to the side and guided Steve until he stood, then undid his fly so he could step out of his shorts. Steve stood next to the couch, aware of how the panties were doing nothing to contain his erection. Bucky held his hand and spun him around so he could see him from behind. Steve took a shaky breath, waiting for Bucky to speak. He wished he would tease him, a little, tell him he shouldn’t wear things like this. He was sure that Bucky wouldn’t presume to be so mean without Steve mentioning it, and he didn’t know how to say hey, it turns me on when I wear lingerie meant for girls and you tell me degrading things; could you do that, please? He knew that Bucky would never make him feel uncomfortable, but god, how he wanted to.
“Tell me what you want, honey,” Bucky said, speaking to his back.
Steve turned around, and Bucky moved his hands to his waist as he stood. He was blushing furiously, flush spread from the tips of his ears down to his chest in patches, and he felt a little like he might cry. “I can’t… I feel…”
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Bucky spread his thighs to make room for his lap and patted his knee. Steve took a seat a little awkwardly, perching until Bucky wrapped an arm around his waist to give him stability. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know I am. I just… I don’t know how to ask.”
“Whatever you want, it’s okay, you know that, right?”
Steve nodded.
“Okay, well, you look very nice. Do you want this?” Steve nodded emphatically. “Do you want to be pretty for me, honey? Do you want to be my baby?”
“Yes,” Steve replied, but he didn’t know how to say that he wanted more. He’d been hoping that Bucky might know instinctively, maybe he might want the same things, and it would just be able to progress the way Steve dreamed. But as perfect as his life with Bucky was, it was harder than dreams. He needed to express himself if he wanted Bucky to understand. “I want… I think I might want you to spank me,” he whispered the last part, still unsure of how Bucky would respond.
He said nothing for a moment, looking into Steve’s eyes as he gently smoothed Steve’s hair with one hand and kept him steady with the other. “Okay,” he said at last. “Do you want me to spank you because you’ve been bad?”
Steve stilled instantly and felt his eyes grow wide. “No,” he said quickly. He’d never been spanked as a child. The idea of Sarah raising a hand against him was preposterous to even think of, and he wasn’t sure it was punishment he wanted.
“Okay, that’s alright. Just because it feels nice?”
Steve nodded, and stood from Bucky’s lap. Bucky lead him to the bed and sat first, leaning back on his hands a little. It would be difficult to situate himself as Bucky’s gut didn’t leave much room for else, but the bed offered extra surface area and he was certain the struggle would be worth it. Before he could move, Bucky commanded him and Steve relaxed. “Lay across me, belly down.”
Steve folded his arms and turned his head to the left, facing the door. Once he was comfortable, Bucky placed a hand on his back. Steve jumped, and the brunet began to rub soothing circles.
“You look so pretty, baby, so nice for me. I love it when you dress up, honey. This colour’s very nice on you.” He moved the back of Steve’s underwear down over his ass, and he skimmed his thumb over the dimples at the base of Steve’s spine. “You can wear this whenever you want. Okay, ready, sweetheart?”
Steve took in a deep breath. He’d closed his eyes while Bucky was talking, and he still felt calm enough to begin. “Yes.”
The first slap shocked him, but it didn’t hurt; the motion jolted him forward a little on Bucky’s lap, but Bucky’s right arm on his shoulders kept him anchored. Bucky’s soft belly was pressing into his side, and he felt peaceful and protected. Bucky soothed the area where he’d hit him, and Steve could imagine it must be pinking up. He removed his hand, and Steve prepared himself for the second blow. The next one stung more, the sharp noise ringing out in the silence of the cottage. Bucky was breathing hard, a little, from arousal or the effort. Steve continued to lay still, not letting himself tense up. As Bucky continued to hit every few moments, he could feel himself get harder, dick trapped between his own body and Bucky’s legs.
Near the sixth hit, his ass was really starting to smart. Bucky had shifted a little after the fourth, changing positions for a better angle, and the heel of his hand and fingers had landed on Steve’s sensitive skin in such a way that had caught his breath in his throat. He didn’t really feel like he was in the room; his head was light and distant. He was breathing shakily, and he felt tingles up and down his spine. Bucky hit him a seventh time and he let out a whine, dick really starting to get painfully hard.
“Roll over,” he heard Bucky instruct, and his voice was breathless too.
Steve rolled onto his back and moved his hips off Bucky so he was laying on the bed with Bucky sitting next to him. Bucky leaned down to kiss his his waist, and he moved his lips further down his happy trail to nose at the panties. Steve’s precome had already spread on the front of them, turning the light pink darker. Steve whimpered again, tangling his hands in Bucky’s short hair. It was getting longer, almost enough for the top to reach his ears. “Yes,” he moaned. He felt hot all over, and a little giddy. His skin felt overly sensitive, and every time Bucky touched him it felt as if fireworks were exploding under his flesh.
Bucky moved the waistband down with his teeth, and Steve felt his erection spring free. Bucky licked a stripe up the vein on the underside, and then moved further down to tongue Steve’s taint. He was getting closer to Steve’s asshole, then he moved away to kiss Steve’s thighs instead.
“Daddy, please,” Steve complained, before he’d quite heard himself. He didn’t realize what he’d said until Bucky stilled completely.
Bucky met his eyes, then rose to a sitting position between Steve’s legs. “What?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”
Bucky came up to lay next to Steve, clasping his left hand on the bed as he kissed his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, Steve. You should have said that’s what you wanted.”
Steve felt a tear escape his eye. “I didn’t know how.”
Bucky just brushed it away, not letting it bother him. “All you had to do was say it, honey. Just tell me. Are you afraid I’ll laugh at you?”
Steve shook his head.
“What’s the matter, then?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m worried you’ll think I’m gross.”
“Of course not. This isn’t gross, sweetheart. It’s precious. You know how fucking beautiful you look there? This is the best gift you could’ve given me. I hardly feel worthy of you, baby boy, so pretty for me.”
Steve beamed at being called baby boy. It was so close to what they’d had before, but just different enough to leave him wanting. “I love you.”
Bucky kissed him on the lips. “I love you too.”
Bucky blew Steve, and then he fucked him. While he was prepping him, he’d worked four fingers in, and Steve almost asked him to slip in the fifth, but he thought they might have had enough excitement for one afternoon.
After Bucky came, he pulled out of him so they were lying on their backs, sideways across the bed. Bucky’s stomach growled, and Steve checked his the time on his phone. “It’s 6. I didn’t make anything for dinner.”
Bucky sat up. “Maybe I should put my little housewife to work instead of fucking him,” he commented lightly before swatting Steve’s thigh and standing up. Steve watched him walk to the kitchen, and even though he was well-fucked and spent, his dick gave a half-hearted twitch at being referred to as a housewife.
He sat up and changed out of his wet underwear, putting on regular boxers with jeans and a sweater.
“Do you want to go out to dinner?” Bucky asked when Steve came out of the bedroom.
“Where?” There were a couple of restaurants around them; a pizzeria near the North coast and a sandwich shop next to a gas station a couple dozen miles West.
“Are you in the mood for pizza?”
“Sure, but it’s a bit of a drive.”
Bucky shrugged and opened the fridge, pulling out two cups of yogurt. “So we’ll have a snack for the drive.”
The sun had another few hours before it set, and they got a good view of it as they drove North. Bucky drove, and Steve sat gingerly in the passenger seat, careful of his tender behind. He kept sneaking glances over to where Bucky’s belly was almost brushing the steering wheel. Ever since he’d asked Steve not to get ice cream, it seemed that he’d been eating less; or, at least, not eating as much as he could at every meal. Steve was sure that he hadn’t lost any weight, not that he could trick him into getting on the scale again to check. Every time they’d made love in the last month, that three-digit number raced through Steve’s mind. He’d been making dinner when his phone chimed, the unopened notification proudly announcing 264. He thought Bucky might be trying to lose weight, and there never seemed to be a good time to bring up the topic.
But Steve wanted things to be like they were in Wakanda, when Bucky had carelessly eaten enough food to grow out of his Wakandan clothes. And if their latest activities had taught him anything, Steve was warming up to the idea that all he had to do to get what he wanted was ask.