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 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.

"Well-- Ag-- you are the dumbest thing so..." His eyes closed as he groaned in pleasure.

Steve was pretty sure that he couldn't actually get harder. This was insanity, he was sure of it, because he simply couldn't focus. His mind wandered to the last time this had happened, his own hand vigorously trying to keep up with Bucky's, and though his fingers now crawled along his husband's shoulder, he moved it consciously upward into his hair instead of down. This had to be Bucky's moment, as selfish as it sounded.

Though a moment's thought of who else had laid back and enjoyed these well worked fingers on their bodies, Steve banished it immediately. That wasn't Bucky doing those things, that was the weapon with Bucky trapped inside. He didn't even think about the brief contact in Thor's bath. That wasn't Bucky either.

"That's... That's really good, Buck." Oh God, no wonder people didn't wait for marriage anymore!

Bucky was never as glad for having the prosthetic as he was now, because it let him keep stroking Steve while his other hand pulled and tugged at the rest of his clothes, that were shucked up around his thighs, until Steve was completely naked underneath him. He looked gorgeous, but a tiny part of him missed that skinny little spitfire that he had experimented with first. He had thought that guy was pretty damn gorgeous as well, even if the world hadn't agreed.

He leaned forwards when Steve put his hand into his hair to kiss him, fierce and possessive, and then pepper those kisses down his jawline, down his neck, and onto his chest. He had to shuffle back a bit then, but he managed to keep his hand on Steve's cock even while he kissed down his stomach and then finally replaced his hand with his lips.

This wasn't as scary as he thought it might be, because it was Steve. He knew, implicitly, that Steve was the one person who would never willingly hurt him.

It never occurred to Steve that you could use your mouth like this. He was too shocked to say anything when velvet warmth wrapped around him and then the pleasure was too much to really fight. So he didn't. He might not be good at any of this and he might have no idea what was happening, but he trusted Bucky innately. And if he thought it was a good idea to put that there... Who was he to tell him to stop?

Tearing at the sheets, Steve moaned wantonly. Just because he enjoyed what Bucky was doing, however, meant that he was passive in any way. His hand threaded through long, dark hair. Or his fingers curled around a shoulder or an ear. He kept saying Bucky's name too, generally with some praise attached.

"Yeah, Buck, that feels amazing--" Or "Buck, that's perfect--!" Or even "Bucky, harder!"

Just because Steve watched his mouth, it didn't make his version of dirty talk any less appealing.

Being a super soldier have Steve a better handle on the physical nature of an orgasm, but this was equal parts mental as well as physical and needless to say, he didn't last long.

Bucky was much more experienced at just what could be put where and how to do all of this, and it was-- not exactly amazing, but still pretty powerful to be able to take something that had been used against him to torture and degrade him, and use it for his own purposes. Sort of like how he had used the skills as an assassin they had given him to help them escape Asgard's clutches.

He wasn't about to let up until Steve came, he wasn't ready for full intercourse yet and just knowing he could indulge in this way without it being a big deal was a huge step forwards. So, when Steve finally did orgasm, Bucky sat back and actually smiled for once, licking his lips like an asshole.

"Why, Mr. Barnes, I think you enjoyed that."

There was no part of Steve that wanted to snark right now. He could have told Bucky that it was just all right or that he could try it again later, but instead, Steve pulled his husband down, kissed musky tasting lips, and wrapped his naked body up in Bucky's cooler, clothed one. The man was shorter than he was but it didn't matter when they were laying down and Steve could bury his head in his neck or lay his cheek on his chest.

There was that tiny spit fire again, all worn out and panting happily in Bucky's arms.

As much as Tony got to Bucky, every time he made him feel angry and stupid, he managed to make a step forward too in his relationship with Steve.

Maybe Bucky needed that irreverence to spur him on.

Maybe he did, maybe having that to contrast Steve being endlessly understanding was what pushing him out of his comfort zones and made him angry enough at the world and at himself to change things. That didn't mean that he thought Tony should get away with being a dick to people and have them think it was okay.

Not that he was even remotely thinking about Tony right now, all of his attention was on Steve and the way he fit so perfectly into Bucky's arms.

"We're a coupla idiots, you know? I never could've been happy settling down with some dame and just having you over the fence."

"You could have done just fine. But I'm glad that wasn't in our hand," Steve said. Bucky could do anything. He could have come back from war and married Dot or Cathy and he and Steve could have found two houses in the suburbs and said hello to each other leaving for work and coming back from work. And on date nights, Bucky's kids could have come over and Steve would have spoiled them. He didn't hate that life, the one that should have been. But he didn't want to default back to it anymore.

Steve pulled up the tucked in part of Bucky's shirt from his pants and lightly traced the skin along his spine in heart-shaped patterns because Bucky was the only one that would know and he never minded if the other man made fun of him.

He'd grown thick skin metaphorically before it had happened physically.

"I love you, Buck. More and more. And not just because you... You know." Kissed him down there. He couldn't say it.

"I know, I love you too."

He wouldn't have been satisfied with that life. Maybe he would have pretended that he was, even to himself. He knows that he would have been a good husband, maybe a little free with the money for smokes and drinks, but generally a good guy. Maybe Dot or Cathy would have loved him and grown old with him, and maybe he would have loved her in her own way.

But nothing like this.

Steve had always been his whole damn world, ever since he met that stupid punk kid with his beat up face getting up time and time again. He bent his head and kissed into blond hair, nose staying in there for a moment.

"You make me feel human. That probably doesn't sound like a good compliment, but Steve, it's the best thing I know."

"That's a damned fine compliment," Steve said immediately. He was happier now than he'd been that morning, happier than he'd been securing a safe passage for their people. The orgasm helped with that, but even moreso, Bucky's ability to step forward into their relationship. Steve snuggled in, sighing a little with the remains of pleasure on his tongue, and told Bucky about the plan he'd worked out with Vanaheim.

Literally worlds away, Anthony flopped back into bed, feeling happily exhausted from bedding his master. "I can't wait to go home," he said, curling his fingers in the sheets as he arched his neck up towards Loki. They'd had some snags here and there but after they closed the ability to return to that poisoned Midgard, all had been well again. Everyone in that end of the tree's branches had been snuffed out, and rightly so. Their universe was saved. Their slaves were birthing fantastic and beautiful new children, and Loki would be shown the glory be so rightfully deserved.

Anthony was excited to see what fanfare their return would bring. He had already visited the offspring his double had produced with both seasoned slaves and those used only as broodmares and he had to admit, he was proud of them already. He liked especially that he hadn't been asked to bed any of those women himself.

Loki took enough from him as it was and he would hate to have to deny his master to be put into breeding rotation.

Loki had been displeased that in his watch, several slaves had escaped for the first time in their history, but it had not been a huge blemish against his achievements for he had wiped the cancerous Midgard from the branches of Yggdrasil thus likely cleansing those who had escaped for they surely would have gone to their home.

He wound his fingers through dark hair and tugged on it just shy of painfully, enjoying the sight of bite marks on Anthony's usually smooth skin. They would be hidden by his tunic, of course, but they would be a constant aching reminder of just who he belonged to, as though he needed any.

"You are impatient as ever, my Anthony, we have not been here overly long and think of those poor unfortunates who will never be taken to Asgard. Their purposes have been complete, their young will live good lives, but they are beyond saving."

Such a pity and a waste that Midgard would allow its inhabitants to grow so disgustingly disobedient.

"They'll be fine here. They won't miss us. Have any of them even realized how good they could have it?" He winced a little, not so much at the tugging as at the thought that anyone of his race could be so stupid. Humanity was a perfect slave species. They were good workers and hardy and capable and clever. Most knew their places. Not all masters were good or kind but at least having a master gave a person a purpose. None of the people they had gathered would ever understand that. "And they'll be fine here until they die out. Plenty of space and buildings and food. They're a lot luckier than any one else. And you're right. Their kids are going to get snatched up from the training villages before their first knots. That's something to be proud of."

He actually felt a little more sorry for the third knot slaves that hadn't been chosen. The moment the babies came of age, they were done for. Right into the fields with them. They'd be worked for a few years until they died and would never know how blissful service could be.

Anthony shifted to lay his cheek on Loki's shoulder.

"I don't want to wait the week. No one else is due to give birth before we go right?" Why did they have to stay?

He knew that the slaves enjoyed their freedoms here. Steve certainly was. But he longed for the palace.

Even the slaves who ended up in the fields and had no other purpose than to till the soil until they died had a purpose, for each one helped to feed the rest of Asgard. Perhaps they would never know the joy of a master of their own, but they assisted in keeping the whole realm prosperous and Loki thought that was a purpose noble in itself.

Though he would not allow the intimacy of this embrace should anyone else walk into his tent, he did not mind allowing Anthony to use his shoulder for a pillow for now, though his fingers did tighten a little further in his hair in mild warning.

"This raid and these slaves were my conquest, I cannot leave before the time is at an end and I must be the last to go, that is my duty here."

He would not give anyone the ammunition they might need to say that he wasn't up to the task or that he had failed at any part of what had been set out for him to do.

"Thor has already left, there is little left to do but wait, is that such an onerous duty?"

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