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He’d had fantasies like this before.
What teenage boy didn’t? Hell, what man didn’t? An island full of beautiful women who’d never seen a man before? No, warrior women. They were beautiful, yes, but beautiful didn’t even begin to describe them.
He only saw a few women between his rescue from the plane crash and his imprisonment in the cave he spent his recovery in. Each and every one of them was utterly unlike any woman he’d ever seen.
Even the smallest ones were broad, everything from their shoulders to their thighs packed with muscle. And yet, there was a clear femininity to them too. The way they moved, it was precise. Every movement was poised, deliberate, and tightly controlled. It was like they knew just how powerful they were.
(Oh god, she wanted to look like them so bad)
In his fantasies, those bodies would usually be pressed up against him, soft breasts providing a wonderful contrast to the firmness of their muscles. When he first started imagining such an island, it was just one woman at a time, but as he got older and his fantasies got more complex, it would often be more, sometimes even three or four, while many more spectated.
There would be a fascination with his penis. They’d never seen one before, after all. They wouldn’t know what it had to offer until they experienced it firsthand.
Granted, his teenage self was an idiot. He knew better now.
(She didn’t have a penis in the fantasies anymore)
He would practically be drowning in women. There would be the press of their bodies against his, yes, but there would also be gentle touches: lips on his cheeks, fingers in his hair, circular motions on his pecs, thumbs digging into the tight muscles on his back, firm strokes on his-
He didn’t know when it stopped being sexual. When Steve Trevor stopped being… Well, Steve Trevor.
The fantasies stopped being about… He didn’t know. They were still about getting attention, usually. There was still a lot of appreciating the beautiful women around him, but they weren’t lusting after him or anything like that. Sometimes he’d imagine them having sex with each other, and he would just watch, but eventually it got less sexual and more sensual, and then, he would be involved, and he would have-
(She’d kill for a chest like Diana’s)
They were just fantasies, though. They weren’t even thought experiments, really. Steve never truly thought about what would happen if he actually ended up on an island filled with only women.
They imprisoned him. They were curious about him, but not in the way he used to imagine. Not in the slightest.
Diana actually teased him about his penis, though. Didn’t love that.
Steve did like her, though. She was different from the rest. She was kind to him, for one, but she also didn’t glare at him when his enamored gazes lasted a little too long.
He told her about the war. He didn’t want to. Part of him wanted to stay on this fantasy island forever, even if he was a prisoner. He had a responsibility, though, and he couldn’t just let these women go unaware.
He didn’t expect them to help, but he was glad when Diana offered.
(Anything to be around her a little longer)
It was… Well, it was war.
Steve knew it well. It had been his reality for so long. Even with Diana there, even with their relationship growing deep and special, and all their friends around them, it was still war, and it was hard.
He almost didn’t know what to do when it was over.
(Stay with Diana, stay with Diana, stay with Diana)
They celebrated because, of course, they did. Really, what else was there to do? The joy was there. It was there, and Steve could see it on Diana’s face. But there was something brewing underneath it, too. Both in the energy of the room and in Diana’s expression.
“What’s going on up here?” he asked, tapping her temple, when they finally got a moment alone.
Diana bit her lip. “I don’t want to ruin the mood.”
Steve shook his head. “I want to know.”
She was thinking about the future, she told him. Now that the war was over, she had an obligation to inform her mother, to tell her the threat was over. But at the same time, she didn’t want to leave. Because that meant leaving Steve.
It didn’t click in his head. Not at first. “I think we’ve been through enough together that you should know I’m not staying put when you’re going somewhere.”
Diana gave him a flat look. “Steve, it’s Themyscira. You can’t come back with me.”
What? But he’d already been there? Why- Oh. Oh.
An old, familiar feeling prickled under his skin. Steve took a quick breath, and it was too shallow, but he forced himself to speak anyway. It was worth the risk if it meant he might be able to stay with Diana. “What if- What if I wasn’t a man?”
The flat look turned confused, and Steve knew she didn’t get it.
He wanted to explain. He wanted to explain so bad. But the words wouldn’t come. There were so, so many times that Steve had bit them back that keeping them down was second nature.
Luckily, they had a workaround for that. “Can you use the lasso on me?”
Diana’s expression didn’t betray her surprise. She just nodded, adjusted her rope a bit, coiling a bit of it up, and looped it around Steve’s wrist. “What is it you want to tell me?”
(No, no, no, yes, yes, yes)
“I’m a woman!” Steve blurted out, and it was the first time she’d ever said that out loud.
She braced, not sure what she was expecting but wanting to be ready for it. Diana didn’t really react, though. Her eyes flickered down to Steve’s crotch. She was fully clothed, but Steve still knew what she meant.
“My body is male, but I feel like a woman,” Steve told her, feeling the lasso’s effects on her tongue. It drew even more of the truth out of her. “I know I’m a woman, even though I have a penis.”
Diana still seemed a little confused, but she nodded slowly, and Steve felt a relief greater than she’d ever felt before crash over her. Diana didn’t understand, but she hadn’t rejected him. She’d accepted her. Accepted the truth. Her truth.
And that wasn’t the end of it, but it was the beginning of Steve living out her life as just another woman on Paradise Island.