if you remove the fact that shes trans it just sounds like shel doesnt know what sex is
[ID: a drawing of two people. the first, scratching his head in confusion as he looks at the other's pregnant belly, says "how'd you do that?" to which the pregnant woman responds with a shrug.]
prommy'd my colleagues i was gonna do something Mild after torturing sunny but then i went too mild and accidentally didnt make it zesty
[naught but a few mentions of hunger and a mere paragraph of stuffing in all its 3.5 pages, very little actually happens]
"Hey, Shelly, are you alright? You look tired," said Leon, brow furrowed with worry at the sight of his friend. It wasn't unusual for Shel to look a little sickly just by nature, but today he looked miserable. There were dark circles under his eyes, and there was no sign of his typical impish snark. He looked like he'd had the little bit of life he held sucked out of him.
"I'll tell ya, Leon," he said, the exhaustion plain in his voice, "I'm just not havin' such a good day." He gave Leon a weak smile, gazing up at him from the office chair. Leon, who had stopped by his department to say hi on his way to the copier, gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. It was only a little after nine, but he knew whatever was bogging Shel down had likely started the night before. Maybe it was his knees, maybe a bad memory. Either way, he looked like he'd hardly slept, and Leon wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't eaten much either.
"I'm going to the copier," said Leon. "Can I get you somethin' while I'm down there? Coffee, water? You look like you could use something."
"I'm alright," said Shel, holding his thin hand over Leon's. Leon didn't look convinced. "Honest. Hey, listen, just seein' your pretty face brightens up my day."
Leon brought back a coffee anyway, and Shel held the paper cup to his chest like a wounded soldier trying to warm himself. Leon lingered with him for a few minutes, but they both had a lot on their plates today, and they soon had to part once more with a tight hug and a peck on the cheek.
Leon visited Shel a handful of times throughout the day, and each time Shel looked more tired and deflated than the last. The sight of him made Leon's heart ache. He knew Shel's physical and mental health both left a lot to be desired, but he at least presented himself as content and functional most of the time; for him to look this outwardly miserable, Leon knew, meant he was doing particularly badly. He also noticed that he didn't see Shel anywhere but at his desk. Often they would bump into each other around the office, and sometimes Shel would even come to visit Leon, but not today, and Leon suspected that meant he must have been hurting. He wondered whether he'd gotten anything to eat today. He didn't have the time to check up on him as often as he'd have liked, but he decided he was going to make him dinner that evening.
"Hey Shelly, come home with me today," said Leon, placing a hand on Shel's shoulder. Shel looked up and nodded. Leon thought he heard a faint grumble from his stomach under the chatter of the office, confirming his suspicion that his friend was going hungry. He glanced at the clock. It was almost five now; they'd be on their way soon, and he'd ensure that Shel was taken care of.
Shel was moving slower than usual when it came time to make the trek out to the car, and Leon could tell it was more than just his aching knees. He was tired, hungry, and miserable, and for a moment Leon wasn't convinced he was going to make it. The car was close, though, and once Leon helped him in, Shel practically dissolved into the seat, head laying back against the headrest with his eyes closed.
Leon's car was a piece of crap, and as much as Shel made sure he knew it, he felt comfortable there. The seats were worn and it smelled like smoke and spilled coffee, but to Shel, it was all Leon, and Leon was home. The rattly sounds of it were so familiar they were almost as soothing as they were nerve-wracking, and the tacky owl print duct tape--lent by one of their coworkers--holding the rear view mirror in place always made him smile. Thankful to be out of the office and on his way to somewhere he'd much rather be, Shel dozed off just a few minutes into the drive and didn't wake up until they were there.
Sleeping in the car left Shel stiffer than he already was, and getting out and up the little length of sidewalk to the door was a tremendous chore, but Leon helped him through it, staying by his side to hold him steady until they made it inside and Shel could finally sit down on the ugly-yet-cozy couch. Leon sat down too for a minute, both of them taking a moment to relax after the long day, but he had plans, and after a short breather he lifted himself from the couch once again.
"You stay there," he said with a stern finger but a soft smile.
"Huh? Where you goin'?"
"Don't worry about it," smiled Leon. He didn't want to tell Shel outright that he was making dinner; he knew he'd drag himself into the kitchen to come help, and Leon wanted him to rest. He gave Shel a fond pat on the shoulder and left for the kitchen.
Leon's house was not entirely unlike his car. It was dated and worn, with the smell of smoke lingering despite his best efforts, and while it wasn't in a state of total disrepair like his car, it could certainly have used a little touching up. It was comfortable, though, and as far as Shel was concerned, it was home. Leon had been gone a few minutes now, and ordinarily Shel might have wandered after him to see what he was doing, but right now he didn't think he could pry himself off the couch if his life depended on it. Resigning himself to a moment of rest, he leaned back against the soft cushion and closed his eyes.
When Leon peeked in on Shel, he was glad to see that his friend was fast asleep on the couch, and he set down the spoon he'd been stirring with to lay a blanket over him. He was putting together a pot of chicken noodle soup, simple yet delicious and hopefully just the kind of comforting meal Shel needed. He knew Shel's appetite tended to suffer when he wasn't feeling good--physically or mentally--but the soup would be easy on his touchy stomach, and filling too; the pot was positively cluttered with the amount of vegetables packed into it, in addition to the shredded chicken and the plentiful egg noodles. It didn't take long--he'd already been planning on making it, so most of the ingredients were already prepped--and with the pot simmering away on the stove and a loaf of bread warming up in the oven, Leon decided it was finally time to ease his friend back into consciousness.
"Hey, Shelly," he said softly, sitting down beside Shel and giving his shoulder a gentle shake. Shel sleepily turned and wrapped his arms around him, and Leon returned the hug, rubbing his back.
"Don't tell me it's morning," Shel mumbled, burying his face against Leon's shoulder.
"Not even close," chuckled Leon. "Are you hungry?" Before Shel could answer, his stomach let out a long, low growl.
Leon offered to bring the soup to the living room, but Shel wanted to sit at the kitchen table; he thought getting up and moving around a little would be good for him. The rickety old kitchen chairs weren't nearly as comfortable, but that was alright. Shel liked Leon's kitchen. It was small and cozy, if a little dingy, and right now it smelled heavenly. Leon brought a bowl of soup and a hunk of bread to the table for each of them, and Shel, already sitting, caught his arm after he set them down.
"You're an angel, Leon," he said, hugging Leon's arm. "Do you know that? I hope you know that. Because it's true."
The soup was, Leon was happy to confirm, fantastic. Not too rich but very hearty, it was indeed just what Shel needed, and he was glad to finally appease his hollow stomach. What had happened, he confessed as they ate, was that he'd been too achy to sleep last night and too exhausted (and achy) to bother putting together a breakfast or lunch in the morning. He'd hoped he might feel up to getting something during his lunch break, but he'd still been too sore and too tired to even think about leaving his desk. All he'd eaten since the night before was a granola bar that had been in one of his desk drawers. Leon nodded understandingly; he'd certainly been there. Minus the arthritis, of course, but he'd spent many a day too miserable and out of it to feed himself properly, and Shel knew it perfectly well. In fact, it was more common for Shel to be the one coming to Leon's rescue with a homemade meal. The tables turned every so often, though, and they were both thankful to have somebody to look after them when they weren't doing well.
Shel ate slowly, both because he was enjoying the soup and because he simply took his time with most things by nature. After napping a little and having a chance to stretch his legs, he already felt worlds better than he had earlier in the day, and the soup was only helping as the panging hunger in his belly finally faded away. He doubted he'd be able to finish the big bowl Leon had ladled out, but that was alright. He'd end the day with a full belly regardless, and he was thankful for it.
"You've been cookin' pretty often," Shel remarked.
"I've been trying to get back into the habit," Leon said with a shy smile.
"Hey, look at you go," Shel grinned. "You're comin' along, Leon." Leon laughed.
"One step at a time, I guess. How're you feelin'?"
"A lot better."
It didn't take long for Shel to start feeling full, but he ate a little bit past that point, until his belly felt taut and snug, though not uncomfortably so. He helped Leon clean up what little mess there was, and then they returned to the couch. Shel was more well-rested after having time to relax, but he felt sleepier than ever now, with the soft bread soaking up the hot broth in his stomach and the warmth of Leon by his side. He laid his head against Leon's shoulder with a contented sigh. Smiling, Leon rested a hand on Shel's belly. It felt tight, pushing out slightly against the waist of his pants, and Leon could feel it grumbling away gently under his palm.
"Thanks for takin' care of me, Leon," said Shel, his voice quiet with sleepiness. "I don't know what I'd do without you." His eyes were closed, and he felt a soft kiss on his forehead and the soothing sensation of Leon rubbing his belly.
"Hey, if you're gonna fall asleep, we should go to bed instead," Leon suggested. "Neither of us is gonna be able to move in the morning if we spend the night here."
"Augh…" Shel pushed himself upright, and his soup-filled stomach sloshed softly. The last thing he wanted now was to get up and leave the comfort of the couch, but Leon had a point. The bed would be far more comfortable anyway.
"You're adorable, you know that? I wish I was all soft and warm like you." Shel snuggled up against Leon's side, clinging sleepily to the loose fabric of his shirt.
"Y'know, you're gettin' a little soft too," said Leon, hugging Shel tight.
"Yeah, sure," said Shel. "There's nothin' to me, Leon." He smiled up at him, but there was a certain tiredness behind it.
"Aw, come on," Leon insisted, giving Shel a squeeze around the middle. "Look at that sweet little Shelly belly." Shel laughed and took his hands.
"Oh, please! You're such a goofball."
"I mean it! Where'd all those hipbones go, huh?" Leon slipped his hands under Shel's shirt and gave the tiny pooch a loving squeeze. "Face it, Lady Aspelund, you're gettin' cute and soft like the rest of us."
"'Like the rest of us.' You finally admittin' you're cute?" Shel sat upright and wrapped his arms around Leon's waist, giving him a tender kiss on the cheek. Leon blushed.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe," he confessed.
"You better be. You know why?"
"Why?"
"'Cause you're cute," Shel grinned, nuzzling his face against Leon's neck and planting another kiss.
Leon felt awful--worse than usual, in fact, which was impressive. He'd woken up in an awful position on the couch after a far-too-short night's sleep, stiff and sore and not feeling very well-rested at all, just a hair too queasy to bother with breakfast, and to top it all off, he was hungover yet again. He had to fight himself not to doze off in the shower, although the thought of tumbling over in the hot water and breaking something almost felt more appealing than going to work. He bravely pushed on, though, and, in spite of everything, he got dressed, trudged out to his raggedy-ass little car, and drove off.
Running on a hearty breakfast of two ibuprofens and a couple of Tums, Leon clocked in and dropped into his chair. A nearby coworker gave him an odd look, and he straightened himself up in his seat, feeling self-conscious. It was an open secret that Leon was an alcoholic, and he could imagine what his colleagues must have been thinking. Despite his best efforts, he always looked just a little bit disheveled, and today he looked like death itself, the ache and exhaustion plain on his face. At least, he thought as he noticed another coworker strolling in late, he was punctual.
As he went about his morning, Leon noticed that he hadn't seen Shel yet. The two worked in different areas, but they usually bumped into each other a good few times a day accidentally, and even more on purpose. He supposed their paths must just not be aligned today, but he couldn't help feeling a little worried. He tried to push the worry out of his head, figuring that he would probably see Shel later--he hadn't mentioned anything about calling in today, after all--but the worry remained firmly where it was.
Plenty of worries, as it happened, made their home in Leon's head that morning. He wondered whether he'd turned the stove off--of course it was off, he hadn't used it, but what if?--and he worried about his appearance, feeling that it might be time to move up a size in his wardrobe. He felt like everybody in the office was staring him down, undoubtedly picking him apart in their minds and coming to all sorts of awful conclusions about every little bit of his life. Most of all, he wondered about Shel. He even tried to stop by Shel's department to say hi, but he wasn't there. He almost asked somebody whether they'd seen him, but, seeing the unwelcome look on their face, he meekly retreated back to his desk.
Leon was typically good at his job, but today, he felt out of it and off balance. Everything ached. He couldn't tell whether he might be coming down with something or whether it was just the hangover. He felt exhausted, and the worries growing in his head clouded his thoughts. Sitting at his desk, unable to focus on a thing, Leon planted his head in his hands and did what he did best: catastrophized.
Leon's spiral into heart-racing anxiety-induced world-ending misery was interrupted by a loud growl from his belly. He glanced down, surprised. Could he really be that hungry? He looked at the time. It wasn't even eleven. Thinking back, though, he hadn't eaten a thing since yesterday afternoon. The queasiness he'd felt that morning, he supposed as he pieced it together, had probably been from hunger. He rubbed his face with a weary sigh. What an idiot, he thought.
Leon had never been the most in-tune with his body, hence his inability to recognize himself as hungry, but he was smart enough to know that his stomach ached too badly right now to eat much of anything. The best course of action he could think of, before even dipping into his snack drawer for something to nibble on, would be to get himself a ginger ale to settle his sore belly.
With a quiet sigh, Leon pushed himself out of his chair and trudged off to the vending machine. His mind was still racing, and he couldn't make it stop. He badly wanted to see Shel. If he could just see Shel, he thought, everything would be alright. His belly rumbled again and he winced, holding a hand against it. How had he not realized he was hungry sooner? Now that he was aware of it, it was painfully obvious. His stomach ached badly, clenching and twisting with desperate pangs of hunger, and even through the nausea, he felt like he could eat a horse. It was the reason why he couldn't focus and why he felt so disoriented, and it certainly wasn't helping the pounding headache that persisted despite the painkillers. He supposed it probably wasn't helping his mental state, either. Leon was anxious on the best of days, but he hadn't felt this panicky over nothing in a while.
Despite his new awareness, Leon still found himself unable to settle his worries, and as he took the long walk to the break room, he felt like he could burst into tears. The irrational part of his brain insisted that something terrible had happened to Shel, a fear that overwhelmed his undernourished mind so badly that he couldn't even bring himself to worry about the judgement of his coworkers as he passed by them.
He came to the vending machine and fumbled around with his wallet, trying to hold himself together as he stuck a crumpled dollar into the slot and prayed that it took. It spit it back out twice before finally accepting it. Leon sat down with his ginger ale with a shaky sigh, gazing blankly out the window as he cracked it open and took a sip. He sat in silence, alone in the break room, no sound but the occasional bubbling of the water cooler. He wasn't sure whether the silence was soothing or uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to get up again, not just yet. He needed to gather himself. He took another sip of the ginger ale and buried his face in his hands.
Footsteps passed by here and there, muffled by the closed door, but Leon barely heard them. When the door opened, though, he jumped. He didn't turn around, not wanting to see another unfriendly face staring down at him, but when he heard the familiar click of a cane on the floor, he perked up like a dog.
"Leon! I been lookin' for you all morning! Every time I tried to stop by you were--oof!" Shel let out a soft grunt as Leon threw his arms around him in a tight embrace. He returned the hug with a bewildered chuckle. "Hey, you missed me, huh?"
All Leon could do was nod, resting his face against Shel's shoulder. He was too relieved to even be embarrassed about seeming so clingy. The morning had been miserable beyond words, but he finally felt like he had some sort of permission to relax. His stomach growled again, and Shel gave him a skeptical look.
"Sounds like you could use an early lunch," he remarked, giving Leon's soft side a friendly pat. He almost asked about breakfast, but, looking at his fragile state, decided it might be an unwelcome accusation. It was clear by the look on his face and the sound of his belly that he hadn't eaten yet today; there was no sense in making him feel bad about it.
"If you're feeling up to it, we could go out to the bagel place," Shel suggested. Leon thought about that. Half an hour ago, he wasn't sure he would have been able to stomach it, but the ginger ale and Shel's presence had settled his belly a little, and the idea of a good lunch sounded appealing.
[brief hunger & brief stuffing, alcoholism warning although no alcohol is consumed during the story]
Leon trudged into the kitchen with a groan, not bothering to turn on the light. He was hungover again--stupid, stupid, you stupid asshole--and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and go back to sleep, but he hadn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday, and he was absolutely starving. Knowing good and well he didn't have it in him to cook, he began rummaging groggily through his fridge to see what he could find.
There was half a carton of rice, the only remnant of the Chinese takeout he'd gotten earlier in the week. He supposed he could at least muster up the strength to microwave that. Digging deeper, he found a singular hard-boiled egg. If the shell didn't fight him, that would be a good addition. He almost reached for one of the beers sitting on the shelf--did reach for it, in fact--but he thought about Shel, and with a heavy sigh, he let it go and shut the door.
He peeled the egg while the rice spun lazily around in the microwave--the peeling was mercifully easy--and pondered, belly rumbling, if he had anything else to fill out the meal a little. Setting the egg and the rice aside, he dug out a couple slices of white bread, tossing it onto the plate untoasted. He couldn't find anything to put on it and made a soon-to-be-forgotten mental note to go grocery shopping again one of these days. He did, however, find a half-empty bag of stale marshmallows. What the hell, he thought, pulling it from the cabinet.
Leon sat down at the little round kitchen table, and as he looked down at his breakfast, he couldn't help but laugh. Everything on the plate was white. It looked like a meal that had had the life sucked out of it, which, coincidentally, was exactly how he felt as well. Still, it was good enough for him, and he dug in without giving it another thought. The meal was as bland as it looked, but it was satisfying, with enough bulky carbs and protein to fill his belly up and then some.
His plate cleared as quickly as he'd thrown it together, Leon leaned back with a sigh, resting a hand atop his belly. A sudden airy burp rushed out of him, almost startling him, and he felt a vague sense of shame as he realized how quickly he'd wolfed everything down. He tried to remind himself that it didn't matter, that nobody was around to see, but shame and Leon were good friends, and shame wasn't about to let him go any time soon. Feeling himself begin to spiral and lacking the will to yank himself out of it, he slumped forward and laid his head on the table.
Leon might have spent the whole day decomposing into that uncomfortable kitchen chair if Shel hadn't come knocking at the door. Shel, he was convinced, with that fond toothy grin and those worn, gentle eyes, Shel was going to be the reason he got better. He couldn't stand to disappoint him--the shame lay heavy over him when he answered the door, knowing there was no way to hide his sorry state--but even despite that, just being around Shel made him want to be well. He didn't just want to get better, he wanted to be better, to better himself. Thinking about that bottle he'd left in the fridge, he supposed it just might be possible.
i will be real with you the entire time i was writing this i had absolutely no idea what id already written
[very mild stuffing, mostly just two old fruits eating dinner & cuddling & bein mushy]
Leon slipped his arms around Shel's narrow waist from behind while he cooked, propping his chin against his shoulder. Gently, he snuck his hands under Shel's shirt and rested them on his belly. Shel was a thin person; there was no denying that. Where there had once been hip bones sharply jutting out, though, Leon found only the soft swell of his lower belly. He held his hands there for a moment, taking in the warmth of that soft curve, then gave it a gentle squeeze. Shel smiled and craned his neck around to nuzzle his cheek against Leon's forehead.
Shel had been nothing short of scrawny for just about his entire life. It was only once he started spending time with Leon that he began to soften up a little; perhaps trying to get his dysfunctional sweetheart to eat better was rubbing off on him as well. The two spent many an evening enjoying a hearty home-cooked meal together, just as they were planning to do tonight.
Leon was reluctant to take his hands off of Shel's lovely little tummy, but the dirty cutting board was calling him. He leaned up to kiss him on the cheek before retreating to the sink. Shel remained at the stove, stirring the sizzling vegetables around in the pan. The kitchen smelled wonderful. They had salmon in the oven, drizzled with a glaze of dijon mustard and maple syrup, and cooking on the stove was a colorful medley of squash, asparagus, and broccoli. Leon's belly rumbled, and Shel smiled. He turned away from the stove--the vegetables needed a chance to brown anyhow--and pulled Leon into his arms, nuzzling his face deep into the crook of his neck.
"Shelly!" Leon jerked at the sudden tickling sensation, laughing. Shel hugged him tightly.
"I just like cookin' with you is all," Shel mumbled into his neck. "You're my perfect helper."
"Oh yeah? What are the qualifications?"
"Cute, for starters," said Shel, lifting his head to kiss Leon's cheek. "Sweet. Funny. Uh, warm." He slipped his hands under Leon's shirt to press them into his warm belly, and he gasped at the cold touch. There was little Shel adored more than Leon's plush, pillowy tummy, save for his cats and Leon himself. It was delightfully plump, poking out adorably over the top of his pajama pants, and the squishy little pooch under his belly button fit perfectly in Shel's bony hands. Leon didn't share quite the same appreciation for it, but if Shel loved it so much, he supposed it couldn't be bad.
At long last, dinner was ready, and the two decided to forgo the table and snuggle up together on the couch with their plates. It was a chilly, rainy evening outside, but Shel's cozy living room was warm, and the gentle patter of the rain against the windows was pleasant. Leon's belly rumbled again as they got themselves situated. Shel gave it an affectionate pat, unable to hold back an amused grin.
"Hey, you had lunch today, didn't you?"
"Huh? Um, I think so. Probably?" Leon ran through the long, busy work day in his mind. Shel rolled his eyes.
"Eat your fish, you goofball," he said, smiling fondly. Leon didn't need to be told twice. He gladly obliged, and Shel gladly joined him. Everything had come out perfect. The fish was flaky and flavorful, and the vegetables were tender but still just crisp enough. Leon's empty stomach welcomed the first delicious bites with open arms.
"I don't know if I'm gonna be able to eat this whole thing," remarked Shel, and Leon chuckled.
"Have you ever eaten a whole anything?"
"I ate a whole pea once," said Shel. "Skin and all." Leon laughed out loud, covering his mouth in an attempt to keep himself from dribbling half-chewed squash all over the place, and Shel grinned down at him.
As it turned out, Shel was right. He had the stomach capacity of a stray chihuahua, and, despite a valiant effort, the big hunk of fish proved to be just a bit too much. He set the plate on the coffee table, covering it with a napkin to keep the cats out of his leftovers, and settled himself against Leon's lap, resting his hands on his full tummy.
"Full already?"
"Stuffed." Even not having cleaned his plate, Shel had pushed himself just a smidge too far, his stomach teetering just on the edge of discomfort. His tummy poked out ever so slightly under his soft pajama shirt, and Leon gave it a gentle pat.
"Boy, I'll say," he said, surprised at how firm his belly felt. He supposed it couldn't have felt too bad, though; that pinched pout of discomfort he was all too familiar with was nowhere to be seen on Shel's pretty face, only a content, sleepy little smile. Leon gazed down at him a moment, utterly gripped by his beauty--his delicate features, the crinkles of the smile in his eyes, the sea of silver waves that was his hair.
"Leon, eat your dinner," said Shel, both amused and touched by the look of adoration on Leon's face. It wasn't a look he'd ever imagined anybody might direct toward him, but it was one he was almost growing used to now--used to, but certainly not tired of.
"You're very distracting, you know," said Leon, tenderly brushing one of Shel's remaining mousy brown hairs out of his face before picking up his fork again. Shel smiled innocently at him, batting his eyelashes sweetly. Leon rolled his eyes and took another bite of salmon. He was beginning to feel full himself, although not quite full enough to slow down; each bite was still just as irresistible as the last. He didn't start slowing down until he was nearly finished, his belly growing snug against his shirt.
While he only had a few bites left on his plate, Leon's stomach had finally begun to catch up with him, and those last few bites were beginning to seem like a lot. He paused for a moment, letting out a little sigh. His belly gurgled softly as its contents settled, and he brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a quiet burp. Shel gazed up at him adoringly from his lap, appreciating the mundane sweetness of his movements and the way the glow of the light filtering through his thick, dark hair from above made him look like an angel. It wasn't an angle he often saw Leon from, being taller than him. Leon glanced down suddenly, finally noticing Shel's stare.
"Hey, good-lookin'," said Shel with a suave smile, and then he broke into laughter at the cheesy line. Somebody at work had once said that Shel's laugh sounded like an old man being smothered to death, but as far as Leon was concerned, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He grinned down at him and ruffled his hair.
"Hey! I just brushed that," Shel exclaimed, grabbing at Leon's hand.
"You're gonna make me drop broccoli all over your head!"
"I'll just pick it off and feed it to you," teased Shel, reaching up and plucking a piece of broccoli from Leon's plate. "Finish your dinner already so we can get to foolin' around." Leon laughed, and Shel fed him the broccoli, then licked off his fingers.
Slowly but surely, Leon finished off the last few bites of his dinner, his belly feeling snug and tight as he pushed it just over the edge of stuffed. It had rounded out nicely against his shirt, not alarmingly distended but undeniably and visibly full. He set his plate down beside Shel's on the table and leaned back with a sigh. Another little burp bubbled up and escaped, and he rested a hand atop his belly.
"Man, that was a big hunk of fish," he said, rubbing at the taut bulge of his stomach.
"Wasn't it? And you were makin' fun of me," teased Shel.
"I still ate the whole thing, though," said Leon.
"I guess so," agreed Shel. He lifted Leon's shirt up just enough to expose his belly button, then leaned his head in to plant a kiss on his tummy. Leon blushed brightly. With an adoring look in his eyes, Shel sat his hands on Leon's sides, idly rubbing the soft skin of his belly with one thumb. Slowly and deliberately, he placed another kiss, letting his lips linger against the warm surface for an extra moment. Then, he snuggled up against Leon, wrapping his arms loosely around his waist and resting his cheek against his tummy.
He remained there while Leon gently stroked his hair, listening to the soft gurgles of his belly as it worked away at the big dinner. As big as it had been, neither of them felt uncomfortably full, although it wouldn't have taken much more to get them there. Leon rested his other hand on Shel's tummy, enamored with the way it bulged just barely noticeably under his shirt. This was all that "foolin' around" would consist of tonight; they both were full and sleepy and perfectly content to simply stay there and hold each other.
normally leon & shel dont let me draw them but they decided to sit still for once. shel says I Need This Ok I Got A Tummy Deficiency
[ID: a drawing of two guys standing together in their pajamas. one is holding a cup of coffee and looking surprised as the other, standing behind him, reaches around to lift his shirt and grab his soft belly with both hands.]
