![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Who: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
When: Various
What: Mermaid AU - Bucky is a mermaid, an apex predator with a curiosity of humans and grows fond of Steve Rogers.
Warnings: Gore, killing for the purpose of feeding, Steve getting into trouble.
Starters inside.
When: Various
What: Mermaid AU - Bucky is a mermaid, an apex predator with a curiosity of humans and grows fond of Steve Rogers.
Warnings: Gore, killing for the purpose of feeding, Steve getting into trouble.
Starters inside.
Pre-War
no subject
Most of them were shiny. He liked shiny things like bits of metal, stones that glowed in the sun, and sometimes even bits of glass that came to the sea. He liked odd things as well, things that defied their own order in the world.
Steve Rogers was like that, small, weak, prey-like, unfit to live and yet did. At first he had followed out of curiosity and partially senses a free meal, but the little human had surprised him by stepping up and taking on a group of four superior humans and protecting a cat (he later ate that) from being abused. It was such strange behaviour that he had stayed to watch. And again. And again until months had passed.
Perhaps that was why he was here under a promise that he would, even if he didn't understand or care for promises. If he was asked to be here and told when, he would be there and no other words were required to pull him from that course of action. Under the bridge was where they met, and this particular part where land met sea had plenty of bridges where the hunting was good and the sun was blocked out. He hunted mostly at night when the waterways were deserted and people had less chance of seeing him.
He was James Buchanan Barnes; Steve had named him such, and he had been intensely pleased to be named after the dead. Steve called him Bucky mostly, but assured him that that too was part of the name, that he had taken it all. He hadn't contested by saying he hadn't because he hadn't eaten the dead Barnes, but that would come in time once he had convinced Steve to take him to see his namesake. Then he and Barnes would be one, and it would be the ultimate passage of memory that no human could truly understand. It was an honour that he would bestow because Steve was strange and warm and wonderful and curious and had given him this name.
James stayed under the bridge as they had planned, his long scaly tail curled protectively around his human torso The black scales made him almost invisible in the shadows there, but his eyes glowed with a green light that allowed him to see well in the dark. He couldn't smell anything but blood and his jaws worked as he consumed the latter half of a stray dog that had gotten too close to the water. His sharp teeth easily sheered meat from the bones and then cracked bones themselves so he could suck out the marrow and obtained the required nutrients for continued growth.
Near the edge of his protective circle of his tail lay two fish, freshly caught. He had been aware enough that he hadn't used his paralyzing agent in his claws. They were freshly gutted and that returned to the sea. Steve could be late if some curious thing caught the other man's attention, usually some kind of fight, but Steve would come. Always the one who was curious and doted on him came, teaching him more English though he was now extremely proficient at it. He'd even lured other humans with his voice rather than his song; it was a new arsenal for his hunting techniques.
So he waited and ate, blood spattering him and uncaring about it. Steve would come.]
no subject
Anyone would have screamed, quailed in terror at how otherworldly he was, how he was so obviously different from the world of men, a devastatingly beautiful being whispered of only in fairytales, often uttered in horror, wistfulness and fascination alike. Mermaids -- well, mermaids weren't like the more famous, watered down ones. Mermaids were terrifying creatures of lore, magnificent in the way storms were, ruthless and uncaring of humanity, meant to be prey or left to die.
But he had saved Steve, and Steve had eventually given him a name in their fifth, sixth meeting, his old friend's name. Bucky. Beloved. He should feel guilty about it, that he'd just named his new friend after his oldest, dearest one; but there was something oddly satisfying about it, something that had come fulfilled, even if he didn't know it. The merman (no, boy), had taken to it, and Steve had been delighted. But that was more than three years ago, and here they were again.
He'd learned a lot about Bucky's people, the complicated creatures that most others decided to call monsters. But Bucky isn't one of them -- Bucky is curious, playful, kind (although only to him, he's discovered), and Steve pats his pocket. He had brought Bucky some shiny scraps of metal to play with, and a small mirror he'd picked up in an alleyway that he knew would amuse the other. He had always cared for him, had loved him since the moment they laid eyes on him and became friends, and that was never going to change, even if their friendship had slowly, very slowly started to change in other ways.
For the most part, he thought, Bucky took up a good chunk of his life, and he doesn't mind. He doesn't even mind the blood that fills his nostrils and almost chokes him, or the half-consumed, bloodied dog carcass in the other boy's grasp.
No, he'd gotten used to this, understood that this was the way of the world where Bucky came from, and aside from some ground rules (like: never the ones with collars on them), Steve never interfered. Steve comes closer, fixated and hopelessly fond as he sits on the edge, carefully avoiding the blood. He reaches out to touch Bucky's hair the way a lover would, feels it wet and briny, and eyes the two dead fish by his tail. The darkness doesn't hide the black eye and the cut lip as well as it should, but Steve's not in the mood to talk about it.
Instead, he fishes in his pocket for the small mirror, smiling. ] Got you something, Bucky.
no subject
Children he left alone, scaring them away with a growl or a hiss, sliding his tail along the cement. They left making the strangest songs, high-pitched and off-key. Sometimes they left a strange smell behind in their fear as well, and humans truly had strange diets to make that kind of scent. Only bold stupid children with no collars he consumed because there was a fine line between courage and stupidity.
No, the footfalls that were coming were light but determined, the kind of gait that he had come to associate with Steve. He looked up from the haunch he was chewing on, pretending boredom even if the gleam in his eyes flicked immediately to Steve's pockets in hopes of determining if there was a shiny present for him. Steve regularly brought him shiny things, and he brought Steve food from the sea, sometimes shiny things from his world.
He grasped another strip of meat and tore it free, chewing a bit more eagerly and abandoning the half-animal to raise his human half to drape over his tail and peer at Steve. He noted the damage but by now was used to this human ritual that Steve partook in; his friend wasn't dead, so that meant Steve was strong enough to survive. Nothing more, nothing less.]
I brought you fish. [He tilted his head to indicate but his webbed and clawed hands boyishly reached out for the shiny prize. He blinked at the mirror, exploring it, letting it catch the limited light. He let out a startled hissing noise when he spotted part of his own reflection in the mirror and whipped around to confront the intruder clearly behind him... but then not.] There's another here! The shiny shows me them but I cannot see!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
WWII
During/Post TWS
no subject
Bucky had suffered enough, been through enough; and all of the questions they had could be shelved for another day. Or never. He had kept his silence all the way home, and now that he was bigger than him, he'd insisted on carrying him back -- Bucky was still getting his bearings back, and Steve refused to let him on his feet until he was feeling much better.
He'd thought that Bucky was dead, had grieved, had thought that the icy waters of the Arctic would be his own final resting place; it was, after all, a part of Bucky's home, and even if he had been lost on land, they could have been together forever. But clearly, fate had different planes.
Fate had brought Bucky back to him, very much the worse for wear, but they were going to work through this together. Bucky smelled of oranges and blood, the way he had before; Steve had made sure that he'd brought oranges when they'd met again, and again, Steve determined to kickstart his memory, so make sure he remembered him. The bracelet he'd given Bucky was missing, but it didn't matter -- they could always get another.
And so Bucky had started to live in Steve's home, hopefully adjusting as best as he could, and after the first shaky few days, Steve finally broached the subject. ]
Bucky, would you like a bath?
no subject
Pliable and reasonable enough to take an order and complete it was all that HYDRA wanted of him. SHIELD was far more complicated, asking for things that he didn't remember, curious of him but uncertain how to proceed when he didn't give up many secrets as he was.
Steve had taken him in, the only safe place in his world of continual change. He was supposed to be the order amid the chaos, but for once, he was in that whirlwind and unable to escape and his own choice was to grasp onto Steve. There were no orders, no cold to sink into, no strange chemicals that was but wasn't water that allowed him to dream of dark placed under the waves that made little sense. He was waiting for something, though he didn't know what that was.
He lurked in his usual corner of the room, his gaze settled on his wrist as if recognizing that something was missing but uncertain what that was. His blue eyes flicked up to pin Steve at the question and the disquiet that came with it. Bathing was something done standing, his legs parted wide (sometimes comically so), but he had been impressed with the importance of cleanliness.]
Yes, I should be clean. Once a day while in active service.
no subject
Well, he did his level best, and had been far more productive in the last few weeks than ever before. But more than that, he was inseparable from Bucky, unwilling to leave his side -- SHIELD personnel learned not to ask; not even Clint or Natasha. He did not want pliant, reasonable Bucky, he wanted his old friend, his lover and soulmate back. He wanted him to come back to him.
He noticed it, the way Bucky looked down at his wrist, and felt his heart break, just a little. But then again, heartbreak was always the staple of the day. He frowned, looking down at him before holding his hand out to lead him to it. ]
How did they bathe you? [ How did they stop him from turning? ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Four months later
His tail flicked gently in the water, arms folded on the edge of the tub as he rested his cheek on his bare stacked arms. This was as close to resting when Steve wasn't around, his ears perked to any sound and his body ready and willing to haul itself out and crawl dangerously at anything that might be a threat to him or this place that Steve called him.
Possessiveness of space was not something that he generally found himself being; he coveted objects, people and food sources (the fridge was the rare item he might guard). Lately, he was territorial of the apartment, which made SHIELD's job of keeping an eye on him and Steve far more difficult. It also made his secret more tedious when he was ready and willing to fling himself, scales still formed and all out a window at an agent perceived too close.
He sighed and shifted in the tub, fins flickering with a now constant healthy shimmer. He was putting on weight. He was remembering more slowly, helped along by Steve talking him through things. The only problems in his current world was a lack of the ocean, the continued presence of HYDRA around, and the slow swell of his belly. His hips were aching almost constantly as well.
It wasn't until he became aware of a distinct flutter as he lounged in the tub that, at first, confused him. He took the time to study this oddity, like the flutter of thin seaweed in the current or more like the caress of butterfly wings. He rumbled a sound and the fluttering stopped again, and he passed it off as indigestion; he had eaten very well the day before. Then it returned again. And again.
And he was up and out of the tub, setting his hands down on the tiles so as not to drop on his belly. It was the natural order of things, he supposed, not that upset to realize the true meaning of everything. He slid like a snake along the bathroom floor to the edge, peering at the hardwood and remembering the house rule not to get it too wet.
Instead, he pushed himself up on his arms and craned his head out of the doorway. Then he worked his throat and issued a soft inquisitive trill in the hallways. It was his 'come and pick me up so I don't mess the floor' trill. It was followed with a general human inquiry.]
Steve? Steve, we have a pressing matter to discuss.
no subject
With Bucky's recovery came a fiercer, more pointed protectiveness, both from himself and Steve; his mate was territorial, instinctively aggression when intruded upon, and Steve had taken every precaution not to have Bucky exposed, including setting some ground rules that required some getting used to. He'd noticed Bucky protecting their fridge even more, and it had been amusing, endearing; and he'd always noted how particularly protective he was when the fridge was stocked especially full.
But things were better between them -- things were good. Steve could never forget or forgive the way Bucky was treated, but Bucky's returning health had made him more relaxed, happier. He had found his meaning in life again, and he wasn't about to give it up.
He was reading in the living room tonight, enjoying the quiet evening when his ears pricked at the sweetly soft trilling Bucky issued from the doorway of the bathroom. By now, he knew all of those trills intimately enough to differentiate them. Some signified idle pleasure, others were a happy contentedness -- there was even a couple of indignant and confused ones; but no. This was fuller, and he was already halfway down the hallway before the words were even issued.
He tutted softly when he saw his lover in the doorway, and simply leaned down to pick him up bridal style in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before he took the man down the corridor. He was getting heavier, bigger, but he wisely made no comment. ]
What is it?
no subject
He curled an arm around his mate's neck, both possessive and helpful, as he hummed at the kiss. He nestled his face into Steve's neck and playfully bit there. That was another problem (a good one) was that with health, happiness, and apparently pregnancy, his libido was high. Now he was all teasing, unwilling to get distracted now that he knew what the apparent problem was.]
I remembered something, and it's important. [He peered up at Steve, tilting his head.] First, why didn't you mate that woman when I was gone? Is it because you had no want to procreate?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
7 Months Later
However, he knew the new instinct was old, older than he was. It came from a memory from one far older than he, someone with more experience in matters of family and child-rearing. He at first paced around the apartment, restless and unable to settle before he was pulling pillows off the couch and then abandoned them. He rooted in the kitchen cabinets but was unable to wedge in, so he abandoned those as well. Steve's room of things of old had no interest to him, so he abandoned that as well without only a step inside.
He finally settled in the bedroom closet. He shoved out shoes and other objects from the floor, only exploring boxes looking for soft materials. Blankets and sheets from the bed were pulled in and twined together intricately. He lined the forming nest with Steve's shirts from the hangers above, left to get the couch cushions and pull them in as well. Spare towels and linens were also eventually victim of his pressing need, the rise of hunger with it, as he laced, braided and wrapped all this material into a nest that filled the entire closet.
In his search for other items to make it higher and protective, he found it. An old brown hat with a gold metal pressed just above the visor. He knew that hat, he thought. He had worn that cap long ago, but he couldn't remember the decoration much. It was shiny and continually attracted his attention until he slipped the military cap on his head, and it fit perfectly like it had always meant to be there.
He settled and folded his mismatched arms across the top of the intricate nesting edge. He was hungry. Slowly, he began to sing for his supper, to draw in anything - anyone - in his range, summoned by the song of his superiority and his pressing need to feed the swell of his belly that was filling rapidly with a growing child. It was the first time he had nested and the first time he had sung to draw in any living creature to his proximity.]
no subject
When he came back, however, he paused when he saw someone trying to jimmy open the lock on his door, and the unmistakable, alluring sound of singing, Bucky's seductively sweet, tempting call -- and he frowned. He told him not to do that.
Catching the man by the back of his shirt just in time (it was a stranger), Steve only shoved him on his way and told him to leave, before opening the door and slipping in quickly, locking it. ]
Bucky!
[ He snapped -- they were close to being discovered by another person, and the guy hadn't known how close he had been to getting eaten. He had brought back two entire large salmon fish that weighed an easy 50 pounds each, and he felt his scowl dissolve just a little when he witnessed Bucky nestled in his makeshift nest in their bedroom closet, lined with his shirts, cushions, and towels.
...He was going to have to get more of those. But his attention wasn't on that, it was on the cap that he'd apparently found for himself, and it was as if he was transported back to the past again, when his mate had been more innocent, beautiful in his uniform and jaunty cap, a smirk on his features.
Still, he recovered quickly. ]
What are you doing?
no subject
He sang until the door opened and Steve's voice called out his name. Then his jaws snapped shut, and he huffed and sunk deeper into the nest so that only his nose, his eyes and the cap appeared over the edge. He had tipped the cap so that he could peer up at his mate when Steve finally appeared, and he shifted on his side, exposing the significant swell of his belly as if to say 'she made me do it'.
Of course, his attention then darted at the smell of fish, and he hummed a pleased sound as if he had been caught doing nothing wrong, least of all luring people into the apartment. He lounged despite his size, unable to accomplish the same beauty he would have expected had he been in water and his lower half covered in scales.]
I was... singing for my supper. I hear that is a phrase that humans use? I was just being more literal than you people do. [He leaned his head out of the nest to peer towards the door.] Is my meal coming still, or did you chase it off?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
BIRTH (because)
He picks his pregnant mate up, and they're out like a shot, into the indoor garage where Bucky is placed into the backseat with the blanket over him, windows tinted to prevent anyone from seeing just who it is that's driving. It has to be done in the sea, this birth, and before long Steve is speeding down a largely empty, quiet road to the nearest beach. ]
Hang on, Buck. We'll be there soon.
Re: BIRTH (because)
It hadn't taken Steve much to be convinced that this was the real thing, not a questionable false alarm. The SUV was better than trying to straddle the motorcycle, though he had been prepared to do so and cling at Steve's back with hissing threats of encouragement. Instead, he was settled down in the back seat breathing hard and feeling the pressure building to a painful degree. He had been practicing with muscles that would be used in this process, but it seemed so much more difficult when he had legs to spread.
He gripped the seat with his mismatched hands, arching with a groan in the back.]
Hurry. It's coming. [And yes, he knew it would take time, but it all felt like it had to happen 'now' rather than 'later'. His body was ready and clearly the baby was ready, so there was no choice but to sit and be in pain while Steve drove.]
no subject
I know. I know, baby. You need to hold it in for me for awhile longer. Breathe. In and out. Slowly.
[ But he reaches the sea in half an hour, and he doesn't hesitate when he kills the engine and practically throws open the car door, reaching in to carry his mate out. ] You still okay?
no subject
They made it though, the smell of the sea coming on stronger, and the moment that Steve stopped, he was twisting to shove open the truck door and dragging himself to his mate to be helped out.] I can walk. I need to walk.
[He breathed deep the sea air, the cry of the gulls even at this early hour and the feel of sand on his bare toes, and he took steps towards the dark waters. His home. He was going home to have a baby. He made a sing-song sound as he just began to pull out of his clothing and leave it behind, his eyes fixed on the sea. He tottered awkwardly and groaning with contractions for about half away and then any idea that he could do this under his own power was lost when his water broke and he was left staring at the wet sand.]
Okay, carry me! Hurry, hurry!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
mistletoe.
James is napping in the massive tank Steve had specially made, submerged comfortably in briny seawater enriched with minerals fit for a mermaid prince. Steve's just finished tying sprigs of mistletoe to the ceiling lights, above wherever Bucky might be seen to pass -- after all, here's one of the precious things to teach him about; and it's been a lifetime since they had tried getting into the Christmas season proper. ]
Bucky. [ Steve calls out when he's finished tying the last sprig above their bedroom door in a fit of mischief. ] Can you come out here a moment?
no subject
Of course he knew of Christmas; it was a time of plenty when it came to meals unless there was a wicked storm blowing through. He seemed to remember eating well around this time of year, so many people out and about moving and buying and allowing themselves to go to places they might not normally. It was also a time of year where one of his kind gave the biggest and brightest object that shined to their mate. He made that last part of up, but Steve seemed to gift him more, which was then reciprocated with anything that was large and could hold a shine to it. He understood it better now, but many traditions were still over his head.
Steve seemed to be getting into it this year. Perhaps because it was their baby's first Christmas and certain family traditions had to be upheld? He tended to just watch and question later.
Still, he wandered from the bedroom where he had been folding clothing and stopped when he noticed plants hanging from the ceiling. He eyed the greenery for a moment and then peered at his mate.]
Why are you hanging plants in doorways? Is it poisonous?
no subject
He grinned and went over to him, taking Bucky's hand and smiling, threading his fingers with those metal digits. He's loved the time he spent with his mate and their baby; James is growing to be a precocious child, giggly and mischievous but ultimately shining with a good, loving little heart. He remembered, too, all the times they'd exchanged gifts with each other, Steve saving up for a year to buy something still humble for Bucky, hoping that he liked it. The gifts that Bucky had once given Steve had been salvaged months ago, having been securely locked in a tin and held as precious. SHIELD had preserved it for him, and for that he was grateful. ]
You kiss the person who stands under it, as a sign of good luck.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
couch shenanigans.
His mate is a mother and there is life growing once again in his womb, and the truth of it is that Steve has never found that sexier and more compelling than now. Which is why he'd pretty much distracted his mate from folding clothes once he'd come home from working up a sweat at the gym, high on endorphins and desire and wanting attention from his mate.
James is asleep in his tank, Steve's made sure of it, and he pushes the stack of clothes from the couch that's standing between him and his pregnant mate, leaning forward to kiss him hard. ]
How about we catch up a little while James sleeps, huh? [ He says sweetly against his lips, wanting to mark Bucky all over again, show the world that he's his. ] I missed you. [ Even though the last time they got frisky was pretty much eleven hours ago. ]
no subject
He folded laundry because it was a necessary duty, watching their son sleep nestled into the foliage of the tank, curled up in a bed of kelp. James was always a good sleeper, and it seemed to be coming in handy more and more as his pregnancy progressed and the swell of his belly became undeniable. He paused in folding the last shirt of Steve's when his pile was shoved to the floor, blue eyes lifting and drinking in all the signs set before him. He wasn't even the least bit annoyed by the ruined folding.
He groaned at the kiss, and he boldly slipped a hand between them to grope Steve's groin with his hand.] How about you fill me up and make me dirty inside again? It's been longer than I like, punk. [He offered a predatory grin and nipped at Steve's lower lip, not even bothering with any subtlety as he began to shove down his mate's pants.]
no subject
He makes a note to re-fold the laundry later, pushing Bucky back towards the edge of the couch as he kisses him again and again, a hand splaying over his gently swelling stomach, his heart skipping at the beat at the knowledge that life is growing inside of his Bucky, and he's responsible for it. Making a soft noise of approval, he tugs Bucky's shirt off and away, pushing down his trousers to get him nice and naked under him, humming softly as he wiggles out of his own pants and kicks it aside. ]
I love the way you talk. [ He growls softly. ] Gonna mark you up, baby. Pound into you so hard you'll have to crawl back to bed.
(no subject)