Chapter Text
His lips had been so….
Soft.
He’d never, ever kissed anything so soft.
Todd Ingram rolled over from his original position beached on his sofa. He groaned, trying and failing to ignore the pleasured shudder that rolled down his spine as heady, masculine cloud of gas he belched out forced his mind to recall the mountain of poutine he’d shoveled into his once-sharply-defined cheekbones. The former rocker and one-time movie star belched again, letting out what felt like a plume of butter-drenched neediness out into the air above him. His mind rushed back to the perfect, tender, soft image in his head of his one, his only love-
Wallace Wells.
Todd whined, his greasy hands moved to press into, knead the doughy, squishy sides of his aching gut as his cock pulsed against the zipper on his unbuttoned jeans.
His stomach churned angrily, forcing out another heady blast of hot, dairy-fueled air that seemed to mock what it had once been. He’d been fit when Wallace had made love to him. Toned and trim and so perfectly vegan that now? The beached, buttery whale pinned to his sofa made Todd feel even more like a needy, soft, pathetic-
Soft.
The word echoed out in Todd’s brain.
Wallace had been so fucking soft .
His lips.
So perfectly moisturized. Shining and plush as they peppered Todd’s broad, muscular chest.
His ass.
So peachy. So round. So perfectly full in Todd’ palms as Wallace’s hands closed around his neck.
His belly .
An affiliation for martinis and a lack of inhibition from grabbing cinnamon rolls from the craft services table had left Wallace Wells with a belly that…
It certainly hadn't bulged , though the sudden, mental image of the proud, gay, handsome top’s sweater-clad waistline blorping outwards as he guzzled a gallon of olive-kissed vodka as his stomach gurgled and swelled from the endless lust and insatiable hunger for everything life had to offer filled Todd's body with enough arousal that he rolled his swollen, bloated form from his nest on the sofa and barrelled towards the kitchen, nearly tearing the handle off his freezer and he seized and tore open what felt to his aching stomach like his hundredth gallon of ice cream. Todd moaned as he sank his spoon into the vanilla flesh of it, feeling the gentle fatty surrender of the cream to his lips being the same feeling of pressing kisses to every inch of Wallace's rich, creamy middle. Todd arched his back, stretching the abused, long-neglected muscles of his buried six-pack as he rutted his furious hard-on into his palm, pressing his gut into his tubby tricep as he remembered Wallace's untoned body squashing into what has been his temple to veganism.
Wallace’s belly had pressed, pooched into what were once rock-hard vegan abs as Wallace pounded into him, its creamy lower lip wobbling as the twink thrust him into the most pleasurable experience of his entire life.
Soft twink belly kissing muscled hunk abs.
Todd wondered what it'd feel like now.
What Wallace's hedonistic, lustful body - nothing but boozy soft serve ice cream - would feel like against the wobbling mound of meat and dairy Todd had gorged himself into with frightening speed.
The moment Wallace had left him, had said there hadn't been sparks, Todd had essentially pressed his lips to the spigot of the movie-theater’s butter dispenser and silenced the aching cries of his scientifically perfect, vegan body and smothered it under pound after pound of cheese-caked poutine.
Fat.
Todd Ingram has eaten, gorged, bloated himself so goddamn fat !
Greasy lips tearing apart buckets of fried chicken. Sauce-stained fingers shoveling in mountains of poutine. An aching, grumbling, perpetually noisy stomach churning hundreds of thousands of calories into dozens of pounds of warm, creamy, butter-soaked lard.
And Todd wanted nothing more than to feel Wallace Wells’ soft belly slapping into his greedy, gluttonous gut as Wallace fucked him so hard all he could do was belch and moan, flushed redder than the sauce of the cheese-covered pizza he wanted Wallace to shove down his throat.
He gave in, forcing his hand into his skin-tight shorts and seizing his pre-cum slicked cock, Todd's other hand abandoning his ice cream and finding his cell phone and hitting his last-dialed number.
Todd flushed beet red.
It was pathetic, Todd knew that.
Pressing his phone into the crook of his neck, propping it against his ear with his padded shoulder and shoving dairy into his food-stained lips as he pleasured himself to Wallace's voicemail. But he didn't care.
Hearing Wallace's perfect, perfect voice tell him to leave a message after the beep? He could imagine that voice saying anything.
That they were made for each other.
That Wallace would always love him.
That it was totally okay, and in fact extremely hot, that Todd had eaten an entire cheesecake for lunch.
Todd stroked as the phone buzzed against his ear, fist wobbling into his recently developed fatpad and sending his gut into a performance of wobbles as Todd imagined what he wanted Wallace to coo to him this time.
Only this time? The voicemail didn't come.
Instead, there was a click , and the soft sound of breathing coming from the other end of the call.
Wallace had picked up.
“Wa- Wal-” Todd had gasped, panickedly releasing his cock and stumbling backwards, dropping his spoon to the floor.
He'd-
Hed answered. He'd answered! Todd's heart sang, his brain fizzled, his gut gurgled .
“Wallace!” Todd finally bellowed, stabling himself against the fridge, staring out at the clock in his kitchen. It dispassionately read One AM in softly flashing, cherry red numbers. Just late enough that his call would go to voicemail if Wallace was in bed, but the perfect time to catch the young man exiting gay bar closing for the weeknight crowd.
Todd had him. Had his love, his light, his soulmate on the line!
“Hi Todd.”
The voice in the voice, the one that usually purred “Hi, you’ve got Wallace. Leave a message.” was talking ! To Him!
Todd gasped, sputtered, fist choking around the base of his cock with such enthusiasm the former-vegan gasped in pleasure.
“Oh,” The voice on the other end of the line purred, his words slurring only-so-slightly. He was drunk, in classic Wallace-fashion, Todd’s heart sang to him. Todd’s hand abandoned his cock, palming, wobbling the softened, stretched image of Todd that grace the formerly-toned obliques of his side, He moved the heel of his hand into the perfect, cherubic face tattooed onto his overflowing side, imagining Wallace’s lips there as Wallace spoke.
“So this is why I wake up to so many missed calls from you, huh? You call just to hear my voicemail?” Wallace cooed, sending pure, raw heat through every, expanded inch of Todd’s form.
“I…well-”
“You miss me that much? Well you’ve got me. Do you want anything? Do you want me to come over, hm?”
Todd could hear Wallace’s eager, pleased grin through the phone, heart pounding in his chest like it used to during his miles-long runs on the treadmill.
“Go on,” Wallace purred, “Use your words.”
“Would you want to um-” Todd choked on his own words, feeling his bright-red heat flush upwards from the bottom of his second chin and up his rounded, pinchable cheeks. As it hit the tips of his ears, Wallace finally gave the poor, former-vegan some relief.
“Are you asking me for a booty call , Todd?”
Todd’s heart nearly exploded out of his chest. Endorphins rushed through every pleasure center of his brain. Wallace!! Wallace’s voice! His perfect, perfect, beautiful voice! The heat wouldn’t leave his face, and a twin version of it was happening deep in his lower belly, his stomach rumbling almost on command as the mere sound of Wallace’s voice made blood rush southward.
“I- Well- I’m-” Todd balked, before gripping his hand into a fist, seizing the tattooed, softened image of Wallace’s perfect, perfect face and jiggling it, sending everything from his needy pad to his pouting tits wobbling.
“I…I am, yeah.” He finally stammered.
Wallace exhaled, low and warm into the phone.
“Good. Cause I’m already on my way.”