Indulgence

The following workweek brought warmer and warmer weather, and the blustery winds of March traded themselves out for the strong sun and light wind of April. Everybody was changing into their short sleeve shirts and light pants—even Steve, whose wardrobe (the one that fit him, at least) contained mostly cold weather clothes. Bucky didn’t mind, of course; it was a treat to watch Steve struggle to button up clothes he hadn’t worn since last summer.

However, not the rest of the fourth floor of Fury Architecture shared his sentiments. Steve walked past Bucky’s desk, giving a pleasant smile while he helped the new temp, Peter, move his stuff into his cubicle. Natasha’s eyes followed him until he disappeared around the corner.

“Please, Bucky, tell your boyfriend to put a shirt on that doesn’t gap around the buttons. It’s obscene.”

It took Bucky a moment to realise she’d spoken. “I know, I’ve tried to get him to buy new clothes for work, but he wouldn’t.” Bucky remembered that morning, when it had taken Steve several tries to find a button up that actually managed to stay buttoned.

“We could go shopping after work,” Bucky had suggested.

Steve had tested the strength of the shirt by jiggling his belly. “Nah. This fits.”

“Steve, no.”

They were already both turned on enough from Steve trying to squeeze into his old clothes, so it wasn’t very hard for Steve to break their rule of ‘no last-minute come-ons before work’. “What was that you said, Boy?”

Bucky’s breath had caught in his throat and he shuddered. He kind of wanted Steve to lay him over his lap and spank him until he was sore, and he knew one quick path there was to keep pushing. He had stood up a little straighter, reminding Steve that although he weighed thirty pounds more, they were still the same height. “I said no.”

Which lead Bucky to adjusting his welted ass on his stiff office chair, making Nat raise her eyebrow.

Bucky’s phone rang on his desk, making him jump out of the memory. He picked it up. “Barnes, Fury Architecture. How may I help you this morning?” he said in his professional tone that always made him cringe.

“Could you come to my office, please?” Bucky was surprised to hear Steve’s voice on the other line. There was something unreadable in the way he asked.

“Ah… sure? Be right there.” Bucky put down the phone, staring at it for a moment. “Be right back,” he called to Natasha, leaving their shared cubicle.

He knocked on the door of Steve’s office as a formality before immediately entering. “What’s up?” he asked, immediately before seeing. “Oh.”

Steve’s desk faced the door, and he stood behind it, an exasperated expression on his face. Four out of six of the buttons on his shirt remained in their proper holes. The one right above his belly button was missing, and the one below it had about an inch to go before it met the other side. Steve’s soft, doughy belly pressed through the gaps. At least before, no one could actually see flesh, just the outlines it made.

Bucky was immediately hard, and for a moment he thought he might pop his own button. He tried to stifle a giggle.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve warned, frowning down at his shirt.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened? I was just sitting here, working, and off it flew.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, that’s a pretty strong shirt. It looked like it was going to hold this morning, even if it barely contained you, it wasn’t going to break.” His eyes moved around Steve’s desk, until he caught the corner of a napkin peeking out, hidden behind Steve’s computer monitor. He moved his head and the doughnut sitting on the napkin revealed itself. Or, more appropriately, half a powdered sugar doughnut, with traces of white dust on the desk, Steve’s beard (growing in to a real goatee now, the hair a dirty blond and darker than on his head, with small shots of grey near the sides), and the front of his ruined navy-blue shirt. “Brunch?”

Steve nodded. “They had a box of them in the breakroom.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

“Buck—where—“

Bucky drew the blinds before Steve could finish, and left the office, shutting the door. In the breakroom, the box still remained, with three doughnuts left; strawberry, chocolate glazed, and cinnamon. Bucky took all three and casually walked back to the office, resisting the urge to whistle.

He locked the door behind him. Steve was sitting on his chair, broken shirt effectively hidden. “I hardly think those are going to solve the problem,” Steve remarked dryly. Bucky noted that the rest of the powdered sugar doughnut was gone.

“Mm, yeah, but I don’t see it as a problem,” Bucky responded coyly.

Steve sighed. “Alright, I get your point. I’ll go shopping next time before it gets this bad, I promise.”

Bucky’s head was reeling at the notion of this happening again. “It’s not bad, though. I’m not punishing you for not getting a better-fitting shirt. I’m just… helping. One doughnut for a snack can’t possibly tide you over until lunch. And with your shirt like that, you can’t fetch more.”

Steve grinned in spite of himself. “What makes you think I’ve only had one?”

Bucky crossed the room and straddled Steve’s lap. It occurred to him that there might not be enough room for him for much longer, as he always already fighting for space with Steve’s gut. He decided to make the most of it while he could. “Think you can stomach three more?”

Steve pinched the roll right above his navel, pretending to contemplate. “It says yes.”

“We should name it.”

“What, like how guys name their dicks?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“No, Bucky. No.”

“C’mon, no one’ll know but us. How about… the Captain.”

“Oh my god.”

“Sure, ‘cause it’s in control. Or… magic 8 ball, because ‘it says yes’.”

“Okay, I like the Captain better.”

“How about Captain America? Because doughnuts.”

“Bucky.”

“Shush, you can’t talk and eat at the same time. Cap’s hungry.”

“I’m hardly hungry.”

“Hence the ‘America’.” Steve flinched a little. “I’m sorry… Steve, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Didn’t you? I’m just another typical fat American, eating doughnuts until I outgrow my desk chair. Who says I have the right, when there are starving countries… when there are people starving in our own country, and I’m having five doughnuts for a snack.”

Bucky was trying to focus on what Steve was saying, but… “Five?”

Steve sighed. “Well, it will be five, once I finish those.” He gestured with his chin at the doughnuts in Bucky’s hand.

Bucky leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek. “You don’t have to if it makes you feel guilty. I don’t want you to feel bad, Daddy. You can stop here, and not gain any more weight. I like you like this.” He didn’t realise that in helping Steve accept his larger body, he might be putting too much pressure on him to continue getting larger.

Steve met his eyes. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if I just stayed like this?”

“Of course not.” And he meant it, too.

“Okay. That’s… that’s really important to me. I just wanted to know how much you… thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you however the fuck you want to be.”

“Okay. And… I don’t really want to lose weight. Or stay at this weight, necessarily. I…” Steve was so delicate and gentle, and Bucky wanted to hurt everyone who ever made him feel bad when he was little.

“What do you want, Daddy?”

Steve smiled. “I really want those doughnuts.”

Bucky laughed. “That I can do.” He caringly fed Steve each one, letting him take his time. He wish he could have known about how fragile Steve was before now, so he could have taken care of him as well as he took care of Bucky.

Steve finished the last doughnut, panting a little. The bottom two buttons of his shirt strained so hard Bucky thought the fabric might rip. Steve was holding Bucky on his lap with his left arm (the swelling of his stomach had allowed for less room for Bucky to occupy, so Steve had to steady him as he perched closer to Steve’s knee), and he unbuttoned the offending buttons with his right hand, finally taking a full breath as his belly expanded the whole way. He spread his legs to make room, and Bucky shifted onto his left leg, hissing a little, ass still a little raw from that morning. His erection was still quite prominent, and as Steve ate the doughnuts, he had slowly started humping him a little, just keeping himself occupied. Now that Steve was done, he shamelessly rutted his erection against Steve’s belly, just needing the friction.

“Not here, baby,” Steve whispered, heavy-lidded eyes slightly wider than before with the scandal of it all.

“C’mon, the blinds are down and I locked the door. No one’s gonna see,” Bucky pleaded.

Steve groaned and gave in. “Alright. Get the condom and the lube out of my top-right drawer.”

Bucky stood up and turned around, rummaging until he found the items he was looking for. Steve stood behind him, leaning forward and pressing Bucky into the desk. Bucky unzipped his pants, pushed them down over his ass, and leaned over on the desk. For all the times that they had fantasized or even role played about having sex in Steve’s office, they never did.

“Close your eyes,” Steve commanded quietly, in such a way that even if someone else was in the room they wouldn’t have been able to hear him. Bucky’s ears were always tuned into the frequency Steve’s words made. He could hear him whisper his name from across a busy room, as if he was meant to follow no one’s commands but the blond’s.

Bucky heard the sounds of Steve taking his pants off, the snap of the condom, the squirt of the lube. The chair creaked as Steve sat back on it, and Bucky shuddered as he traced one finger over the bruises on his ass. “Did I hurt you?” Steve whispered.

“I wanted it,” Bucky replied, wanting him to be gentle, but also wanting him to ‘gently’ pick him up and fuck him into a wall until he was screaming, biting down on his hand in a futile attempt to not alert the entire office to their lovemaking.

“You’ll use the safeword if it ever hurts too much,” Steve both reminded and asked.

“Of course.” Their safeword was freight car. It was the first thing that had popped into Bucky’s mind when Steve asked him, a word obscure enough to not be used in ordinary conversation.

Bucky then experienced the sensation of Steve licking from his balls up to his hole. Steve almost never gave Bucky a rim job, so this was an unexpected treat. He grabbed the edge of the desk, toes curling inside his dress shoes. Steve prepped him with his tongue, slipping it inside the sphincter of muscles. Bucky whined, and Steve reached out and put a hand on his cheek, pressing softly on one of his bruises to remind him to be quiet, too busy licking him out to speak. After a moment or two more of Steve curling and flattening his tongue inside Bucky, he stood and slowly penetrated him. He braced his palms on the desk, and Bucky could feel the beginnings of the underside of his belly resting on his back. Steve was careful to not hit Bucky’s bruises, and the sensation of dull pain mixed with pleasure was intoxicating. The desk creaked as Steve thrust into Bucky, and for a moment he was worried the faux-oak wouldn’t hold the majority of both their weight. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut so hard that phosphenes dancing in revolving circles. Steve was close to coming, thrusting with increasing frequency and power. Bucky’s dick was trapped underneath the desk from where he lay bent over it, and the friction against the plastic lumber mixed with the stimulation of Steve repeatedly hitting his prostate was making him come quicker than he wanted to. They came at the same time, a rare coincidence they’d only experienced a few times before. Steve wasn’t flaccid yet, and continued to thrust until a second orgasm shook him, and he relaxed his full weight on Bucky, lying on him on his desk.

The wood creaked, and the front left leg snapped, aiming the surface downward. Bucky and Steve snapped up, Bucky grabbing for the computer monitor as Steve caught the other end. The desk fell over on one end, splinters lining the cracked surface that would bear no more weight.

They paused in shock for a moment, standing in Steve’s office with their pants down (and Steve’s shirt only buttoned at the top) and cocks flaccid, holding Steve’s computer. Then Bucky burst out in laughter and Steve joined him.

“Fuck, I knew that was going to happen,” Bucky chuckled.

“A guess the person who designed that wasn’t a very good architect,” Steve commented with a grin.

“I’m going to drop the computer on your foot!” Bucky threatened, and they lowered it to the ground. They cleaned themselves up and redressed themselves. “I’ll run to Kohl’s and buy you a new button up, and after work, we’re going shopping.” Steve nodded, trying in vain to get the buttons to close up again. “What size do you run now?”

Steve sighed, unbuttoning it altogether and reading the tag. “Better make it an extra-large.”

Bucky left the office, and everyone quickly whipped their heads back to their computers and an obvious hush fell over the room. He passed Nat and grabbed his wallet.

“’Be right back’, he said,” she quoted.

Bucky tossed her a grin. “I’m going out. Cover if the boss yells,” he added pointlessly. She rolled her eyes.

After work, Steve wore his new red button down, and they went back to Kohl’s to get him more summer clothes. They passed a section of palm-and-hibiscus-print shirts, to which Bucky gave a firm no. They managed to agree on a few t-shirts, Henley’s, and a couple of button ups, since dress code was more lax in summer. Steve tried the t-shirts on in the fitting room, before tossing it back over the door.

“Could you grab me the same design in the next size up?”

Bucky read the tag, and returned a moment later. “They don’t have this in extra-large.”

Steve swore. “Their sizes must run small here.”

“Yeah, they must,” Bucky agreed, glad that Steve couldn’t see him grin. “Let me see it on you.”

Steve sighed and opened the door. It was barely better than the button up he wore to work. It fit, but it hugged Steve’s belly snugly. “I’m not ashamed of it, but I don’t want to wear a shirt that looks like someone painted my skin,” Steve complained.

“C’mon, we’ll go to a different store.” They walked down the strip mall, and Bucky gestured to one that was mainly focused on men’s semi-formal wear. “How about this one?”

“Buck, that’s a plus-sized store,” Steve automatically responded, then paused a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” They left with several very nice, relaxed fit 2X shirts that Steve could comfortably wear—and had a little extra room, too.

They got back home just in time for dinner, and Bucky decided to make some spaghetti. While he was stirring the noodles, Steve came up behind him, wearing a new Henley. “217,” he whispered.

“Actually, it’s 212,” Bucky responded, checking the thermometer. He was always very specific about boiling his noodles at a specific heat.

“No…” Bucky spun around to look Steve in the eye. “I weigh 217 pounds. I’ve gained 27 pounds since January. I was 32-medium then. I fit into 38 extra-large now.”

The timer beeped, alerting them that the meatballs were ready. “Feel like making it 40 before May?”