fossilised | I come from a land of ice and snow

I come from a land of ice and snow

Asgard sat atop the branches of Yggdrasil since time began, and little had changed in their society in the years since. Each Asgardian was long-lived into the millennia, their lands were fertile, their people brave and strong. They had their vassals, their allies, and their enemies. Yet even those who opposed them respected the might of the Golden Dias, and the royalty who sat upon it. Currently that was Odin Borson, though he grew weary more easily now and had begun to consider passing the throne to his eldest son.

He had been blessed with many children, but only two that he considered worthy of his lineage and status. His firstborn, Thor, strong and honourable and everything an Asgardian warrior should be. His second son, Loki, was not natural born, though none knew that but his wife. He was different, a creature of magic and mayhem, of sharp intelligence. Both were worthy, but together they would take Asgard to a new prosperity, he was certain of it.

Midgard, where the mortals dwelt, was a land raided every few centuries for stock. It was seen as a breeding ground, much like a corral for cattle. Mortals were lesser, short-lived and weak, they were fit only as slaves. The last raid had taken place when Loki had been but a baby, nearly a thousand years ago, but the mortals that had been taken had been bred and cared for so that a healthy slave population still thrived. Slaves were given a weakened mixture of Idunn's crop with their food, to extend their natural lives to at least a few centuries in order to make them worth the effort to train. They had no rights, but they were taught well that this was their natural position.

All slave children were raised in a central pen and taught the same when small, those that then displayed talent at cooking, riding, hunting, housework, artisan skills, or singing were then measured off to be specially trained for higher masters. Every five years those who could afford to buy a slave, or those of high enough status to simply demand them, came to the corral and chose. Those who were chosen were special, were envied, and those who were not ended up working the fields out in the far reaches of Asgard, the most menial of work.

Anthony and Steven had been friends since they were little and being raised in the large pens together. Both had excelled, Anthony at crafting and Steven at warrior's skills, but neither were chosen when they were five, nor ten, nor even fifteen. Now, at twenty, it was their final chance to be chosen before they would be assigned to one of the meanest farmers beyond the borders of the great capital. Steven woke Anthony as the dawn rose, mingled excitement and nerves on his face.

"Anthony! Wake up, I've got news! I heard the overseer talking to one of the passing guards, and Princes Thor and Loki are coming to the corral today."

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Bucky had been genuinely offended by Tony and his flippant outlook on his problems, especially when it was hard for him to open up at all and he had tried to be as understanding as possible when it came to Tony's problems in return. It had left him discomforted and twitchy, so he wouldn't be in their little quarters when Steve got back, he'd be up on the roof.

Steve would probably find him because of the shadow through the window, or the faint whirr of his metal arm, things that people without super soldier senses wouldn't see or think to investigate.

He was taking apart and putting back together again one of his guns with practised ease and speed, just something to occupy himself.

Not a good sign at all. Steve proceeded with caution as he went, carefully heading to the roof in a way that would make his presence known long before he came into view. "Been looking for you," Steve said, settling down beside Bucky before stretching out on his back to look up at foreign clouds. The patterns were just as random as he was used to and yet they seemed so different and strange too. He'd miss this little planet, the third he'd made his home on and the fourth he'd visited before Loki shopped him around to Vanaheim. "It was something, Buck. Straight out of some history lesson about feudal Europe. Sort of amazing. I wish you'd come."

If tony was right and Bucky was having anxiety with him being gone? Well he wanted to make sure that the man knew he'd been missed.

"Think you can put that down...?" The clicking was not distracting and Steve was not afraid of it. He just wanted Buckys attention.

He knew it was Steve even before the man came into view, distinctive footsteps and breathing pattern. He was relieved, even if he didn't show as much, only tilting his head up to give Steve a once over to make sure he wasn't hurt. He didn't smile, he still didn't do too much of that these days, but his expression did soften a little.

"Wasn't sure you'd be back so soon."

It had only been a couple of days for him, but it had been nearly a week for Steve due to the time differences between the worlds. He hesitated a moment, before finishing up setting the gun back together and then put it down as requested.

"The people I spoke to were very willing to help us out. Pretty much opposite of what I keep expecting." He didn't have a good track record with that. Usually he had to go and do something heroic on his own before anyone stood to take notice. But this was pretty nice for a change. He shifted his head so that it rested on Bucky's lap. It wasn't the first time he'd done that and it gave him a little thrill. Being close to Bucky like this made him think of all the times he'd hung out with Bucky and Bucky's gal of the hour. And how often Bucky or one of their other friends would let his head be pillowed by the skirts of the girl they were seeing.

He never thought that would be for him and now it was.

"What happened with Tony? He's looking better but... Did you two go at it again?"

For a moment Bucky was startled, but then the fingers of his flesh hand slipped down to card through soft blond hair as if this really was a dame on his lap back in the old days. It was good, a contact between them that was another intimacy point without ramping it up too fast.

"Did he say that?"

Which was as good as a confirmation, but Bucky didn't want to actually go into it with Steve. He didn't want to admit what they had talked about and why it had upset him-- actually, he probably only had to admit the first bit for Steve to figure out why it had upset him and probably go and punch Tony in the nose.

"He didn't have to," Steve said lightly. "He was acting the way he gets when he thinks the whole world is being unfair to him," he said. "He mentioned you, kept his eyes forward, and deflected. I did the math." It was relatively easy math too. No carrying of numbers or awkward equations needed.

The touch of a hand against his hair left his lips turning upward. He was all right with this sort of intimacy. He would never push Bucky for anything and he already felt like the luckiest guy in the whole world to have what he did. He'd wanted it for so long without letting himself know he wanted it that each moment passing by was bliss.

His eyes closed but he wasn't about to fall asleep during this conversation.

"Can't let him get to you. He does that double talking because he's unhappy. And I feel for him, but you should t go down with him."

Bucky left his hand in Steve's hair, but ceased moving it for now, almost as if he were shielding Steve from looking at him while he spoke. He couldn't tell his husband any part of the conversation with Tony without all the other bits coming out, but he was so tired of lying and pretending to the one person he knew he could trust above everyone else.

"I told him about sleeping in the closet."

He knows that Steve knows, Tony was right about that, there's no way he's managed to keep it quiet.

"I told him that I want to touch you, but you deserve to be touched by someone human. He offered to draw pornographic art of what you might want and treated it like a joke."

They were going to talk about the closet? Steve wasn't sure how to even approach that. Nothing good was ever going to come of it. It was Bucky's decision and Steve just thought it would come with time. But obviously not time soon enough. It hurt. Under Bucky's hand, Steve's forehead bunched up. He was opening his eyes and looking up, though his vision was completely blocked.

"He was just being inappropriate. I think that's the only way he knows how to be," Steve said soothingly. Or at least tried. It was hard to get himself together here. "It's... Buck, if you want to look at that stuff-- It's normal right? Mostly normal? Maybe not if Tony draws it but it's fine. I'm not asking to do anything here. When it happens, it happens. I'm not rushing you. But if you want to talk about it-- you can still come to me. We can talk it out together and figure it out together, right?"

And if this was really about Bucky wanting drawings... Steve was a better artist.

Of course it wasn't about him wanting drawings, it was about him sharing with Tony and then Tony treating it like it was all a hilarious sex joke. His hand remained where it was on Steve's forehead to keep him from looking up at him with those piercing blue eyes, discomfort evident in his voice and the way his body had gone completely tense underneath his husband.

"I don't want to look at that stuff, Tony was just trying to make a joke because I can't even have sex with my own husband."

God, it sounded even worse when he put it like that.

"...I'm sorry, Steve."

Steve reached up to grab Bucky's wrist but he didn't pull his hand away, or get into a battle to do it. He just held on. "It's no ones business but ours," he said. "And no one else's opinion matters. I told you already, I don't need--"

It was just hard to talk about. There was no polite way to do it and even if Steve wasn't completely polite, he was still gentleman.

"We don't need it. It doesn't matter what Tony Stark says. You were.... Things happened. I get that, Buck. Don't be sorry. If you love me and I love you, what else matters?"

"It matters because I'm your goddamn husband, Steve."

Bucky's voice finally betrayed some of the irritation he felt at this whole situation. He wanted to be with Steve in all the ways that a husband should be, he just couldn't seem to get past this stupid roadblock in his head.

"I don't care how much you say you don't need it, you shouldn't have to be celibate because of me. You want it, Steve, don't try and deny it."

If Steve wasn't a super soldier, his palms would be sweating from embarrassment right now. The thought of Bucky... Just the thought, it made his breath quicken and his pulse race. He couldn't deny the fact that since he no longer had to hide how much he wanted his friend and now husband, it was impossible to do it.

"I think... I think that you think pretty highly of yourself there, pal," Steve tried to deflect. His half laugh was horribly timed and fell flat. "I'm still running off of that memory of what your hand felt like. And that's a pretty good memory. When you're ready, the rest will happen. It's not something I deserve. It's something worth waiting for."

Tony was going to get punched. This might have set Bucky back, and anything that harmed his husband's progress was an affront to nature.

Bucky hated this, he knew that Steve was a good guy and he would never push Bucky beyond what he could handle, but it just made Bucky's skin crawl every time he failed at something he wanted to do. Because god did he ever want to have his mouth and fingers on and in Steve, but he just couldn't seem to make that leap.

"Shut up being so understanding for once, you punk."

It made it worse.

"At least Tony knew what a fucking crime it is to have a guy like you and not touch him."

Uh... "Okay so now Stark is the good guy here? That's pretty low," Steve said, only partially joking. "And that almost sounds like... I don't even want to think about Tony touching me."

His laughter was lighter now and he lightly tugged on the other man's wrist.

"Can I please look at you? I might be too understanding but I like what we have. And I like the idea of what might be coming. But I'm a little terrified of it too. If God didn't smite us for getting married, it's probably fine but... You're not the only one with hang ups here, Buck. But you can... Always touch me. Whenever you want. However you want. Or don't. You have the option. Maybe Tony's jealous of that."

Strangely, he had never even considered that Tony might be jealous of what they had, but who wouldn't be? Steve was a catch in literally anyone's eyes, he was handsome, smart, caring, and just all-round perfect, and somehow Bucky was the one who landed him. It made him half smug and half feel even worse about being unable to give him what he damn well deserved.

"I want to touch you in every way god intended a married couple to touch one another and a few more, it ain't about want."

But he did remove his hand from Steve's face finally, letting his arm fall by his side.

"I just want to be normal again, Steve, is that really such a bad thing?"

"I'm gonna be blunt here, Buck. None of us are ever going to be normal again. You're doing better with what you got than I think any of us would. You are, and you've had it the worst. So hey. If you want to, and I want to, and there's just this fear in your head that it can't happen and you're gonna disappointment if we stop in the middle-- how about we just try? You can touch me. Or I can touch you. And if it's too much, we'll go have some ice cream."

With Helblindi here in the frozen building, and Jotunheim's donation of fish and vegetables and creams from whatever strange beasts they must have on their world, vanilla ice cream was once more a reality.

"Maybe I can go over those marks they left on you. Then you'll only have me. It's just an option if you want it."

Of course he wanted it. He wanted it more than he could breathe most days, he wanted to erase the Soldier and be Bucky again. He wanted to be able to flop in bed with his husband in his arms and not have to get out because the damn thing felt too exposed to sleep in.

"Yeah."

Just that one word, but it was permission for a whole lot more. He wanted Steve to try and put his hands on him, he wanted to do the same in reverse, and he wanted to power through when the fear came. Prove to himself that he could do it.

"Okay." This wasn't how he imagined it. That didn't mean that he wasn't interested, but he'd always pictured a whole different scenario. Then again, his first attempt at anything sexual had been when he was sick in the bathroom of his mother's house after she died.

Steve took Bucky's hand and lightly kissed his knuckles as he sat. He kissed his cheeks and then his lips. Briefly.

"But not on the roof. Come downstairs with me?"

He stood and offered his husband a hand up. It was hard to hide the lust in his eyes. Even Steve, perfect Steve, could want sex.

That look in Steve's eyes lit a fire inside of him that was half anger and half lust, it was reminiscent of the way others had looked at him unwanted, but it was also Steve and those beautiful blues darkened by desire was pretty intoxicating. The kiss helped tip it towards lust and away from anger, because Steve was the only one who had ever kissed him, none of the others had ever been so intimate.

"I'll go wherever you wanna lead me, Steve."

Downstairs, into hell, literally anywhere. He took that hand and pulled upwards with the grace of a predator and then swung down in through the window to their little bedroom.

Steve was a fumbler. He hadn't been lying about being unskilled and all he knew at the moment was that he wanted to touch every part of Bucky he could as quickly as he could. He was a graceful man, the serum enabling his body to do whatever his mind wanted it to, and while that meant that he could stay on his feet, he was still half tripping as he got Bucky into bed.

And that was before he accidentally tore his own shirt off. "Oh crap," he lamented. Textiles were pretty difficult to come by and stuff that fit him was even harder. He knelt over Bucky, in just his jeans and boots and wedding right, and absolutely pouted down at the mangled white cleaning rag he'd just made.

Maybe Bucky could help with the undressing before Mr. Understanding ruined their whole wardrobe.

Bucky felt a frission of fear as Steve leaned down over him, but he combated it by grasping Steve by the hips as he moaned about his shirt and flipped them over so that he was the one looming over the blond. Maybe that was how he could get through this, if he could be the one staying in control, staying with the power, then perhaps he could even enjoy this.

"Forget the shirt, Steve."

He mumbled the order as he reached down to unbutton Steve's pants and work them down over his hips, feeling his breath catch as he saw the first tufts of blond hair where his underwear came down with the pants.

Finding himself on his back was a challenge for Steve. He was still coming to grips with this part of himself. Loving Bucky was easy. Holding his hand and kissing him was fine too. That didn't take away from his masculinity and as much as he hated to admit it, that was important.

His whole life, he'd been called girly and weak. And that Steve was still the heart of this one. He was a perfect specimen of masculinity and yet he couldn't help but be afraid of losing it.

He looked up at Bucky with trepidation and then lifted his hand to touch fingertips to his jaw.

As afraid as he was, he was also rock hair beneath that little tuft of blond that Bucky had revealed.

"Kiss me..." He was going to get the romance he needed out of this while letting Bucky take the lead.

Bucky didn't think that Steve was at all less than manly for being the one underneath, and he would appreciate every moment of it that his husband was letting him be the one to dictate and take control of this situation.

He almost didn't hear the request to kiss him, transfixed by the way Steve was hard between his legs already. His fingers, cool metal, curled around his erection and gave it a tentative stroke even as he leaned down to kiss Steve, the motion almost nervous. He wanted this, he did.

"You always taste like apple pie," he murmured against Steve's lips. It was amazing to him that Steve always managed to taste that way even when he hadn't eaten it in weeks.

Bucky wasn't attempting to be funny, but Steve gave him a breathy sort of laugh anyway as their lips parted ways. His stomach flopped to follow, not out of fear or worry, but because of the way he was being touched. Bucky's metal arm was just a tad cooler than actual skin and the spots of articulation created an extra sort of texture and friction to the way he squeezed him. His whole body shook and his hips made a jerk upwards. Steve usually had such control. It felt like Bucky was peeling that away.

And that was all right, he decided. He didn't always have to be in charge.

He curved himself up against his husband, lips parting as he sucked in a breath and let a lingering kiss settle on Bucky's jaw.

"The pie you made...? Guess it just stayed with me..." The last time he sounded this breathy, he was about to suffer an asthma attack.

A tiny part of Bucky heard the breathless nature of Steve's words and was almost tempted to pull back and go and find his medicine, but he knew that asthma really wasn't on the list of Steve's problems these days so he didn't spoil what had already begun with a dumb second instinct.

"You say the dumbest things."

Sweetest too, but he couldn't let Steve get away with thinking that sort of thing wasn't horrendously dumb. His fingers curled a bit more firmly around the base of Steve's erection and began stroking up and down in a slow rhythm. He wasn't interested in anything but getting Steve as hard as he could right now, he could focus on if he could get hard in a bit.

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