Chapter 5
%5
Bucky walks him backwards onto the sofa and sets him down, his hands never leaving his sides for a second.
They’re kissing, enthusiastically making out and God Tony’s missed this so much, intimacy without paranoia.
It’s so good, Bucky mouthing at his jawline, his neck and his metal hand stroking up and down his soft sides before capturing his nipple through his t shirt with his thumb.
Tony can’t help the staggered “Oh-h” he lets out at the sensation.
He’s always had sensitive nipples but now?
He’s on fire.
He wonders if it’s because they’re more swollen now, rounder, and he whines, both at the thought and at Bucky’s metal fingers pinching.
Bucky growls in response
“God, Goddamn sweetheart, you got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this”
Tony can only exhale shakily, breath catching on another moan as Bucky grinds into him with a moan on his own.
Then his stupid stomach growls and whines insistently as though feeling left out, and if Tony felt flushed before, then now he’s burning all over, cheeks on fire at the unsubtle reminder of how hungry he is.
His eyes dart away, and he mumbles
“Sorry…guess dieting doesn’t really agree with me” He tries to quip
But anymore words get caught in his throat when Bucky presses up against him and growls
“I don’t wanna ever hear the word diet come outta your mouth again doll” He instructs, and Tony can only swallow and nod.
Then before he can process it, his super soldier boyfriend, in a casual display of his core strength and apex form, manages to snag one of the plates from the table, stretching over whilst never leaving his position hovering over him, Tony trapped in the most delicious way, and a conflicted spike of arousal shoots through his body at the obvious contrast of their shapes.
Before he can think about that too much, however, there’s a plate of crispy, heavenly potato skins and dip balanced on the gentle rise of his torso.
Bucky is slotted between his hips again, one hand caressing the flesh at the circumference of the plate and the other selecting a chunky morsel and holding it up to Tony’s lips.
“Eat, Sweetheart” He commands gently.
And Tony does.
The first bite is almost overwhelming with how amazing it is, how amazing it feels to have flavourful, heavenly food bursting across his tastebuds.
He moans and feels himself blushing at the fact, but he can’t bring himself to care too much.
Instead, his eyes slide shut in contentment and the heat low in his body curls hotter as Bucky immediately picks up another and feeds it to him without hesitation.
“That’s right Sugar” He purrs lowly.
Tony hums in answer, happiness unfolding in his chest, settling above his stomach, which is starting to relax.
It feels like it’s no longer twisting and tying itself in knots, instead the barest hints of satisfaction are starting to build as he chews and swallows.
It’s a small surprise when he feels Bucky shift again a few moments later, purposefully not sexually, and he opens his eyes to find the plate empty and Bucky stretching over him again to snag another plate.
He feels like he’s never stopped blushing, but new pinpricks of heat burn at his cheeks when he realises that he’s finished the huge mound of potato skins without even noticing, in fact he's barely even close to full.
A huff escapes his lips, and he pouts a little, no wonder he’s gotten to the size he is.
He doesn’t have time for any self-flagellation though, because his boyfriend has acquired the plate he wants and has set it down on the floor next to them.
Now he’s grinding down into Tony as he whispers.
“Good boy…that’s what I wanna see sweet thing”
Luckily, he’s kissing Tony before the whimper in his chest can escape.
“You’re not full yet are you?” He checks.
Tony groans internally at the fresh searing heat radiating from his face and ears and neck, he’s going to start worrying he’s got a fever if this keeps up, but he manages a minuscule shake of his head, eyes fixed on a spot on the sofa he’s squished into.
“Good” Bucky breathes, and he reaches down to pick up the plate he set on the floor.
He takes a little longer than necessary to pick it up, because his eyes are fixed to Tony, pupils wide and a faint blush betraying his arousal.
Not that Tony can’t feel the other ways he’s *ahem* aroused, as he squirms beneath him in exquisite embarrassment.
“None of that, Doll” Bucky whispers, ducking his head and scraping his teeth oh-so-gently over his nipple.
Tony gasps and arches a little, whilst Bucky growls, guttural and possessive, canting his hips down again and pinning Tony even more.
“God, can- can ya feel what you’re doin’ to me Doll”
Tony can only blink stupidly, his brain still mush, without having had a chance to try and reform itself.
Any further chance of that happening evaporates when the warm weight of the dish Bucky’s holding is set on his stomach, in the same place as the last one.
The pressure is delicious, and Tony finds himself letting his eyes slip closed again.
The anticipation is higher this way, and the food even more delicious, somehow, melding with the mystery of what’s on the plate until it’s placed in his mouth.
And if it means he doesn’t have to feel the ways he’s flushing quite so keenly, well, then that’s just a beneficial side-effect.
It's carbonara, he discovers, after Bucky feeds him the first bite.
And it’s glorious.
The creamy sauce and the tang of the cheese and bacon only taste even better once the other half of the dish makes itself known.
In his all-consuming gratitude to just be eating real food, he’d forgotten that all these dishes were combinations.
The second component to this dish is meatballs, seasoned and tender and incredible.
Then it’s Carbonara garlic bread
Then it’s ariabiatta pizza
Then it’s spaghetti and meatballs calzone.
And it’s only then that Tony shifts and feels a twinge in his side and realises how full he is.
Almost painfully.
“Mmph Bucky stop” He says, and his words feel a little slurred.
He opens his eyes, feeling kind of hazy from the trance he’d slipped into without realising.
Bucky is there, his cheeks a hot pink and his eyes barely visible behind his blown pupils.
He’s holding a large potato skin though and he pouts a little, raising his eyebrow.
Tony sighs and lets him feed it to him, chewing reverently and humming.
Then when he feels Bucky shift to get another one, he shakes his head.
“No, Bucky, I- I’m stuffed” he admits, his words still a little difficult to form.
He wonders, absently, if it’s possible to get food drunk, then huffs a laugh because if it was possible then, of course he, of all people, would.
Turns out that laughing wasn’t the best move though, although it feels like he can’t move in any other way, because now to his mortification he’s hiccupping.
His torso flinching minutely, unable to so much as twitch greatly beneath all the food he’s packed into it.
There’s a hot shameful feeling fanning to life in his gut but he can’t deny the conflicting rush of arousal.
It only increases when he feels Bucky’s cock twitch against his swollen hip.
In contrast, Bucky tenderly smooths his hands down his even more swollen torso, asking softly, sweetly,
“You ok hot stuff?”
Tony goes to scoff at the endearment but only manages another hiccup instead, grunting a little at the effort it takes.
Bucky’s cock twitches again and he lets go of whatever derision he was going to say about himself in the face of the obvious evidence that Bucky is into this.
“Full” He says petulantly instead, feeling warm and round and overall sated but still aware of how rosy his cheeks are, have been since he sat down in the first place.
He feels the blush burning, scalding again when he randomly thinks that right now, he would struggle to sit up, let alone stand up.
He squirms, as much as he can, which isn’t much, trying to get more comfortable and succeeds only in letting out a burp instead.
He feels he’s surpassed any limit he might’ve had for embarrassment by now, and the way Bucky thrusts against him, gently but with intent, doesn’t hurt.
“Pants feelin’ a little snug darlin?” Bucky leers.
Tony nods through another hiccup, just glad that they don’t hurt.
Instead, with the way his stomach gently shifts each time, it’s like pressing on a bruise just the right amount.
His pants though, he winces, are another story.
He wishes they were jeans so he could pop the belt or button to get some relief but really, they’re sweatpants so he shouldn’t need any relief, they should be comfortable at all times.
Instead, they feel like they barely fit, digging into his hips, rubbing the underside of his stomach raw and it’s with another flood of arousal that he realises how much effort it’s going to take to get them off, or even just shimmied down for a bit more comfort.
He’d really just rather eat another slice of pizza or two.
But looking down at his stomach he can’t even see the waistband of his sweats over the crest and widest part of his stomach, which even seems to be slouching outwards not just upwards.
He knows without looking, that the elastic on them is straining without an inch of room.
He’s suddenly intensely grateful that he didn’t wear a button up tonight- not that any of them fit anymore- and then the thought of trying to squeeze into one now, when he’s this full sends heat spiralling through him.
He grunts in answer to Bucky’s question instead, not belying that he is, in fact, a little uncomfortable.
As though it’s his boyfriend’s fault and not his own for accepting everything he was fed.
Bucky starts fingering at the hem of his pants then, to which Tony accepts the fact that his shirt must have ridden up a bit too seeing as he didn’t need to lift it out the way at all.
He pointedly does not think about the fact that this is the largest shirt he owns and close to being the only one that really fits him.
Bucky is coaxing the waistband down, gently and efficiently, whilst Tony lies there feeling beached.
He grumbles when he has to lift his hips a little, belching, but ultimately managing, though not without setting off his hiccups again.
But the cool air feels so good on his stomach as Bucky removes his pants completely, soothing the flushed skin.
He coos at the red lines marring his skin from his gluttony, pressing gentle kisses to them as Tony sighs in a little relief.
“You’re stuffed aren’t you, well done baby, God, it turns me on so much to see you so well-fed baby” Bucky murmurs reverently, mouthing and nibbling at the globe of his bloated stomach.
He’s so sensitive and he wishes he could do more than just lay here taking it, but at the same time he loves it.
He feels obscene, more so with his pants off, barely able to wriggle a couple of inches on the sofa, beneath the curve of his over-indulgence.
“Yeah, that’s right baby, am I over-feeding you, are you over-fed? So full and warm and round.”
Tony groans, any self-consciousness long banished by the orgasmic feel of Bucky massaging his gut where it hangs over his adjusted waistband, the knowledge that he’s fully reclined and still bursting out of his clothes hits him and he moans at the thought of how it’ll be when he can finally stand again.
“’M gonna feed you all the time hot stuff, never gonna let you be hungry again, never want ya to feel anything less than slightly uncomfortable with how full you are, then let me take care of it, get you comfier clothes, give you a rub down when you’re stuffed, massage that sensitive stomach till you got room again, give ya a blowjob whilst you’re eatin-
“Oh my God” Tony gasps, interrupting the stream of lewd suggestions coming from Bucky.
“Why did I never know this was a thing…I put on weight so easily- I coulda been enjoying this instead of depriving myself all these years”
He laments, but it’s hard to be bitter beyond that one flash of emotion, with the way his boyfriend’s hands are apparently magic.
The discomfort is fading, and whilst his sides still feel swollen and the crest of his stomach is still firm, he’s able to notice now how the underside of his stomach hardly feels tight at all, in fact it never did, it was just the constricting waistband of his sweats, the sweats that, until these last few months, had always been a size or two too big for him.
Instead, the underneath of his stomach, feels sensuous as Bucky ghosts his fingernails over it then starts patting and petting it.
Then his palm travels upwards to the apex of the curve and starts circling round his belly button, which somehow feels even better, despite the pressure of still being too full to move.
He hums in appreciation, grunting then belching again when Bucky presses his fingers in harder, rubbing in firm and soothing circles.
“Better?” He asks devilishly and Tony can only mumble
“Christ” at his smirk, knowing he could fall asleep like this so easily if he wasn’t so worked up and confused
“I think you are…I think you have some more room now… for donuts”
Tony can’t help perking up at the mention of donuts, which is something else considering the state he’s in.
He feels a little of the shyness lurking again and can’t stop a blush returning, or intensifying- he’s not sure any more, at the fact that he can hardly sit up like he wants to at the mention of donuts, that he couldn’t get up and get them himself if he wanted to, which means he really shouldn’t even be thinking about eating any more, but God help him he wants them.
“Aw don’t worry baby, I want to, remember? I want you full to bursting, I want you so stuffed you can’t hardly move, sated, obviously overfed, unable to resist, uncomfortable until I make it better” Bucky murmurs sweetly, leaning in to gently lave attention at Tony’s neck, behind his ear where he’s most sensitive, being careful to put only the barest pressure on his torso.
Tony isn’t the type to be embarrassed for long about kink, at least not until this point anyway and he’s determined to keep that up even if it is a pretence.
So, he heaves a breath, and tries to sit up a little, dick jumping at the sensation.
He manages a few inches, along with several more burps and grunts and then breathes out.
“Yeah”
He’s huffing more than he ever should at the strain of that small movement, but he can’t wait to try the donuts and when Bucky shouts from the kitchen that he’s got pie, ice cream, cannoli and a myriad assortment of other sweet treats and pastries, he can only rub his stomach more firmly.