“How did you know it wouldn’t go well?”
“I can’t make fried raak because I feel like it?”
Just as Marcus opened his mouth to bitch that no, no she could not; To bitch that he had had a run of rotten luck in love since they had set up shop at Tartarus Station. To bitch that he was heartbroken and hungry and wanted nothing more than to curl up and nurse his wounded pride. Just as he opened his mouth Ace filled it with perfectly fried Raak wing.
“Here. Eat your feelings. You’ll feel better” she set a bowl full next to the couch and sent him tumbling to the cushions with a flick of her wrist. Then she went back to the stove to carry on cooking.
Marcus hugged the bowl in his lap, devouring the seasoned meat as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He slumped back, savoring every bite. After the fifth leg he moved to undo his belt only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “Belt giving out already big guy?”
“I thought I could preempt getting stuck in it”
“Leave it” she smirked, “I like seeing how tight it gets”
He pushed his belly out until a generous handful of flab spilled over his already constrictive belt. With a look of mock innocence he pouted up at her, “Does this mean you’re not angry about the machines anymore?”
Ace absently let one of her fingers trace up and down his throat. “Am I still angry? I don’t know. Getting your pride checked was good for you. You did entirely ruin a perfectly good circuit though… Hm. I’m not so angry that I’ll send you to find someone else to fuck tonight”
“I’m off the hook?”
“Did I say you were?”
He flinched from the acid in her tone. At half his size Ace was made of muscle, calluses, and engine grease but under the machine shop attire she, to him, was still an absolute vixen. Her shock of brown hair fell just into those intense blue eyes. But that smile, that smile made him wild. It was that smile that she graced him with now, “You’ll be off the hook when I say you are. But first you’re going to eat your words and then some. Then I’ll see about a suiting punishment”
No amount of self control could have prevented the blush that crept into his cheeks to begin with, but when she pushed a whole leg into his mouth. Worse, he stripped it clean as she pulled out. She patted his gut, “beach yourself on the couch and you might even get laid”. She snapped her fingers and one of her bastardized claptraps wheeled in with an ice bucket full of beer that Marcus happily accepted along with the prospect of a well fed, raucous night in. He chugged two immediately to make a bid for Ace’s good graces. Most of what he got for his efforts was the feeling that his stomach was sloshing like a water balloon stuck under ever greater pressure behind his belts. Still, it also earned him an appraising eye that seemed to enjoy the assessment.
Every time he seemed to get close to the bottom of the bowl, she refilled and refilled and refilled until his shirt crept up to his navel and his belts were digging into his bloated flesh. For all the food having gone to his gut, the beer was going to his head, “How many *hic* raak are left in the sky? I think I- ooh… I think you’ve fe-*hic* fed me the whole *hiccup* Pandora population”
“Cleared a nest this morning for that Hyperion cog. He was so pleased I cleaned up the bodies he offered me a contract” she grinned. “He’s not the most useful tool in the box”
Marcus laughed only to have his stomach slosh audibly followed by a storm of hiccups. To his immense relief, Ace turned off the stove and dumped the last of the raak wings into the dish. Her hands felt warm on his aching tummy and it was all he could do not to moan then and there. The couch creaked as he shifted his weight.
Ace bounced his tummy experimentally in her hands earning a horny whimper from Marcus. “Tell me again why you got fat?”
“I- Uhnnn… Moxxie used to tell me.. *hic!* that I should make pe-hic-ople underestimate me. If you ruthless… be fat…”
“And do you feel ruthless?”
Marcus whined, “No”
“And do you want to be?”
“No,” he panted, “I want a tummy rub” He cast an eye around their joint living space, “Area secured?”
Ace ruffled his hair, “Of course. Last thing to lock was the door behind you. Go on, you can get soft”
Marcus relaxed visibly; gravid stomach no longer sucked in in the slightest, every ounce of resistance gone from him. Ace uncapped a beer and made herself comfortable in his lap. She tugged the belt that connected his waist to his shoulder holster, “You’re not done yet fatty. I want to see this get so tight I can’t get my fingers under it. Got it?”
He settled the bowl and it’s contents on the small shelf his gut now made, then gave Ace a lecherous grin, “Promise you’ll punish me if I don’t?”
“I’ll punish you either way” she leaned in close so that her slender torso pressed against his bloated middle, lips so close to his he could feel her smile rather than see it, “It’s part of dessert tubby”
She stole a quick kiss, “That too”