Chapter Text
It didn’t immediately register with Shiro how much Hunk ate. In fact, it took him weeks to notice how Hunk always beat him by several plates, beat everyone , shoving endless bites of food into his big mouth whenever he was given the opportunity. Maybe it was weird--they were usually seated next to each other at dinner, and yeah, Hunk talked about food near constantly--but somehow Shiro hadn’t really paid attention to the fact that Hunk could easily out-eat the rest of the team, and by a huge margin.
On some level, he must have known this would become an issue. Hunk was a big guy, and big guys usually ate big , too. He could blame it on battle weariness or PTSD, or any number of the crazy thing that had been happening in his life lately, but when the realization finally hit him, there was no going back.
The others were already finishing up their meals when Shiro walked into the dining room. He was running late, having pushed himself through an especially rigorous workout to clear his mind; the nightmares seemed to come less often nowadays, but when they did, he always woke up feeling hollow, and so damn weak.
Now, his stomach was growling, pleading him to feed it, and Shiro quickly muttered good mornings to the team while he scanned table. What I wouldn’t give for some proper rice and miso , he thought with a pang of homesickness, grabbing the nearest bowl on the table and dragging it by his plate.
He peered inside, ready to dig in, but the bowl was almost empty. Confused, he looked up to find another one.
Just then Hunk leaned back in his chair next to him, letting out a huge burp. “Uahh, that was the best breakfast goo we’ve had in awhile! My compliments to the chef, Coran.”
“Why, thank you, I will tell the nutrition unit your--”
Keith’s voice cut off Coran’s beaming before he could really get into it, his words pointed at Hunk. “You do know this shit comes from machine, right? And it’s the same fucking green goop every day, every meal. I can’t believe you can stomach this, let alone praise it.”
“Hey, now, I’ve got a pretty good palate and I would definitely say it’s not the same thing every day. It has layers, Keith, layers of taste.”
“I would trust on Hunk on this one,” Lance chimed in, “the dude knows his food.”
Keith snorted. “Yeah, he sure does. Did you leave anything for our poor leader here? He looks hungry.”
They all turned to look at him in unison, and Shiro froze, the empty bowl of food goo still in his hands. He cleared his throat. “Can someone pass me another bowl? This one’s empty.”
There was another pause, during which all their eyes turned to Hunk, who was red in his face, looking sheepish with a bit of green still stuck on the corner of his mouth.
“Oh! I’m, I’m sorry, Shiro, it’s--they’re all empty.” Hunk chuckled nervously, his eyes flicking back and away from Shiro’s gaze. “I thought you’d eaten early like usual, would’ve saved you some if I’d known...”
“Do not worry, Shiro, I will get you more in a--”
Again, Coran’s were words cut off as Lance said, “C’mon, don’t look so surprised. He does this almost every morning --you’re just not here to witness all the gory details.”
Maybe it was the nightmare he’d just had, or the faintness in his head from working out on an empty stomach; maybe he was just caught off guard, but suddenly, the whole scene presented itself to Shiro in a new light, crisp and clear.
Five of the massive bowls that the food in the castle was served from were stacked in front of Hunk, the sixth one still in Shiro’s hand. All of them empty. He could barely eat half a bowl himself, a whole one if pressed, but Hunk--
Hunk had finished them, what must have been at least half of it all after the others had eaten their share. Shiro tried not to, but he just couldn’t help it, his eyes darting to Hunk’s form next to him.
He swallowed, feeling a flush suddenly overcome him; Hunk had sat up again to talk to him and his round gut just filled his lap, looking tight and full when he leaned over. His soft pecks rested against the crest of his belly and-- oh my god, Shiro needed to leave before he embarrassed himself.
He stood up, taking the bowl with him as he backed away from the table. “I’m just gonna--get some more,” he said to answer their stares, then turned around and walked away from the room, not answering the calls of his confused teammates.
Since then, Shiro couldn’t tune it out anymore. As he watched Hunk finish off a heaping pile of alien vegetables that night at dinner, then go for second and thirds, he wondered how he could have been so blind to something he now could hardly tear his eyes off.
It took a few days for the rest of the team to stop bringing up the incident and find something else to jibe about, and Shiro tried his best for things to go back to normal. He tried , at least, but it was like that one moment had been a revelation to him, and denying it was harder than he’d expected.
He kept finding his gaze on the curve of Hunk’s stomach when he wore his pilot suit, wondering just how stretchy these suits ultimately were. All that eating must be adding up to something , he thought, sneaking glances to measure the dark patches of spandex-like material stretched over Hunk’s waistline, trying to gauge a difference there.
The problem wasn’t that this was something new to him. Shiro had always felt drawn to big eaters, and he could certainly appreciate how many servings Hunk could finish before he leaned back in his chair, a hand on his gut and a satisfied grin on his lips. He wanted to reach over and rest his hand on top of that swollen belly, and rub away the ache from it, and he could deal with all that except--
Hunk was a teammate. Shiro could well fuck up the whole Voltron deal if he proposed something this weird on a fellow paladin and things went badly. He was their leader --he must set the example.
He could control himself.
But even if the others had forgotten about Shiro’s moment of weirdness that day, Hunk clearly hadn’t--and whenever Shiro lost himself, giving into temptation for a moment too long, he could soon feel Hunk’s eyes on him, a curious look on his face.
They had barely had any time to talk; their daily paths didn’t cross that much outside of practise and missions, offering little opportunity to resolve the tension that had suddenly sprung between them.
Shiro had thought about it, though. Thought about how things would play out if he were to just--give in, and none of the scenarios in his head exactly helped to ease his tension, no matter how they turned out; he could only have so many cold showers a day, and he was pretty sure his restlessness was getting noticeable.
So he found himself spending more hours at the gym than was strictly needed, sparring, training, doing something to try and kick off the senseless urge that took him over whenever he shared a table with Hunk. He pushed himself past exhaustion, past the point where his muscles screamed for energy and oxygen and rest, hoping that would be enough to quell his libido...
More than often it wasn’t, but at least his moves were in top shape.
It was already late when Shiro headed back towards his room on his jog around the castle; the luminescent columns that lighted up the corridor had been dimmed down for the night, barely brightening as he passed them, many of the side corridors almost like a black void. Not that he paid much attention to them, lulled into the rhythmic padding of his feet, the fluid movement of his body.
He nearly missed the sound, moving past the door to the common area without slowing, but some subconscious part of him made him frown, and slow down; he tracked back, stepping in the doorway to look inside.
The next burp was followed by a groan, and a softly muttered curse. “Great going, Hunk, really nice, gonna be the greatest paladin ever,” the muttering continued, until it was interrupted by a sudden hiccup.
Shiro felt nailed to his place, even if his instinct was to just go-- Hunk hadn’t spotted him yet, but Shiro could see him, slouching down on the couch seat with empty dishes all around him, his gut rising like a mountain under his shirt. He was rubbing his belly in circles, but he was frowning, still muttering under his breath.
“--should have stopped at the blue goo, but no, just needed one more bowl of the red goo, and now we’re stuck here. Great, just great.”
A shiver fell down Shiro’s spine; Hunk was stuck, pinned to the seat by god knows how many bowls of food in his belly; it looked so round, so full as it pushed the limits of his usually loose shirt, making the seams pull.
He should leave, he really should--but instead, Shiro took a step inside, as if pulled in; he didn’t know what else to say so he cleared his throat and called, “Hunk?” and walked closer.
Hunk jumped, falling silent for a moment, before busting out a nervous chuckle. “ Shiro , jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”
“What are you doing here in the dark?”
Hunk chuckled again, and even in the bad lighting Shiro could see the embarrassment written on his face; he had closed the distance between them now, coming to a stop in front of Hunk, just a few steps away.
Hunk shrugged, nonchalant, but Shiro saw him tugging at his shirt self consciously. “Well, you see, just chillin’ and all that.”
“Just chillin’ in a dark room?” Shiro repeated, his brows lifting.
“It’s very relaxing, yes, that’s what I do, so--”
Hunk would have rambled on, but Shiro cut him off with the offer of his hand; the movement surprised even him, but--he was just being a good teammate, right? “So you don’t need any help, then?” he said, giving Hunk a level look, allowing himself only barest glimpse of his massively swollen belly; he swallowed, then cleared his throat. “C’mon, I’ll help you back to your quarters.”
The confused look on Hunk’s face dissolved but his cheeks flushed darker, and he glanced down, scratching his neck. “Aw, no, you don’t need to do that. It’ll be fine in uh, a while...”
Shiro’s hand wavered, but only for a second. “Come on,” he said in a softer voice, “let me help you.” Hunk still wasn’t meeting his eye, so he let his eyes wander, counting the empty bowls scattered on the couch with a quickening heartbeat; his throat needed clearing again before he got out, “No questions asked,” but it still came out sounding rougher than he intended.
Hunk looked up at that, and Shiro could see him measuring him with his gaze; he was hoping he didn’t look different than usual, but the smile on his face felt forced even as he told himself to relax.
Finally, Hunk seemed to reach a conclusion, and he lifted his arms up with a heavy sigh.
“Just, give me a hand so I can get up and, and I can manage the rest,” he said, resigned, and Shiro felt a rush of anticipation and dread go through him as he moved forward to clasp hands with Hunk.
Ignoring the flush of warmth that travelled up his arm, Shiro secured his grasp before asking, “You ready?”
Hunk nodded, brows furrowed in concentration; he took a breath and heaved himself up, letting Shiro pull him to his feet.
“W-well, that went--” He faltered, his face twisting in pain as he doubled over, hand pressed against the side of his swollen gut. “Holy-- jesus that hurts,” he grunted out, looking like he might slide back down on the couch, but Shiro caught him; he slid his hand under Hunk’s arm, giving him his shoulder for support.
It brought Shiro’s mind to battlefields, their bodies pressed close out of necessity, and he found himself asking, “You okay?” before he could stop; he reached out his hand and ran it over Hunk’s middle before realizing what he was doing and jerking it back.
Hunk glanced at him, trying to smile through a wince. “Yeah, yeah, just give me a moment.” He was kneading a spot on the side of his gut, and a low burp bubbled up, followed by a sigh. “Sorry,” Hunk mumbled, hiding the next ones behind his fist.
Shiro felt suddenly hot; he could feel the warmth of Hunk’s body next to him, the solid weight of it against him, and it filled with a craving for more .
“Okay, I think we’re good to go now.”
Hunk startled him with his words, and Shiro took a moment to follow through with what he meant. He nodded, and they took a tentative step together; Hunk face twitched, but he didn’t say anything, just held his hand pressed against his stomach as they slowly started making their way towards the doorway.
Shiro kept his eyes glued forward as they walked, trying to tune out the way Hunk’s body moved against him and absolutely failing at it. His left hand had wound around Hunk’s waist and with every footfall he could feel the flesh under his palm bounce a little in the most distracting way--
A hiccup echoed through the dim corridor, breaking up the silence and sending a ripple through his body. “Sorry,” Hunk chuckled, but he seemed done with the quiet; he glanced at Shiro, then away again before speaking. “At least my room isn’t that far, right? Though I should probably say that’s both a blessing and a curse.” He laughed, and Shiro saw him slide a hand over his gut, patting it gentle, and he forced himself to look away. “I would be upset if they put me farthest from the kitchens, that would not sit right with me...”
Shiro hummed, not knowing what to reply, but he was pulled to a stop as Hunk suddenly stopped moving. They broke apart, Hunk catching the wall for support.
“Hey, is... Is everything cool between us?”
Shiro felt his expression freeze, his cheeks heating up. “Huh?”
Hunk was wearing a weird look on his face, his face closed off and wary. He looked away, then back and grimaced. “ Please don’t put me on a diet, okay? I’ll do anything else just, not that.”
Shiro blinked and repeated, “ Huh? ” but Hunk didn’t notice his confusion.
“I mean, I know I’ve been eating a lot lately and part of that is stress-eating, but also I am kind of addicted to that goo, I’m not even kidding--”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hunk met his gaze, his brows knitting over his dark eyes. “You’ve been watching my every bite since, you know. The other day at breakfast when, uh... And I just thought--as a team leader, you’re gonna want your team fit , right?” He was rubbing the side of his gut again as he kept talking, and Shiro found it hard to keep his eyes away from the sight. “I may not look it, but I hit the weights at the gym five times a week, and Lance is making me spar with him like, every other day, so I’m in good shape aside from, uh, current conditions.” He gave his middle a pat, smiling sheepishly.
Shiro took a breath. “I’m not putting you on a diet, Hunk.”
“You’re not?”
“No,” he said. “It’s not my place to... I mean, I don’t--” Shiro cleared his throat, again, seeing the relief on Hunk’s face get replaced by curiosity as he stammered out, “You seem well fit to be a part of this team, so it’s not a problem.”
Hunk made a sound, still watching him, and made no move to get going again; Shiro always forgot that fooling him wasn’t as easy as it looked.
“Then why have you been keeping an eye on my eating?”
“I--” Shiro paused, his mind scrambling for an explanation, but nothing came up. “No reason. I mean, everyone on the team is my responsibility so I’m, uh. Keeping tabs.”
He could tell that Hunk wasn’t buying his explanation; there was a different light to his gaze now, a look of interest that didn’t bode well for Shiro, but--he could handle this. He nodded his head towards the corridor, changing the subject before Hunk could speak.
“Ready to continue? We’re almost there.”
Hunk’s eyes narrowed, but Shiro held his gaze, willing his flush away. “Sure,” he said after a moment, pushing himself off the wall. “Good to go.”
The rest of the way they made side by side, walking slowly the last of the corridors before reaching Hunk’s personal quarters; he had refused the offer for support this time, but he’d grabbed hold of Shiro’s arm a couple of times when a sudden spasm of hurt went through his stomach, leaving him breathless with pain.
“This is it,” he finally said as the turned a corner, coming to a stop in front of a door set in the wall. Hunk glanced at it longingly, then turned to face Shiro. He looked flushed from the exertion, his voice a bit breathless as he said, “Thanks for helping me out.” He stuck out his hand for a shake, taking Shiro by surprise.
“Don’t worry about it.” He grabbed his hand, smiling. “It was nothing.”
There was a brief moment when their eyes met, and Shiro thought he was almost in the clear, but before he could turn away and escape, Hunk started talking again.
“Sorry you had to witness that mess, I guess I have a habit of going overboard with food. I mean, it’s research but still, way overboard . ” He chuckled softly, looking down at his full gut. “I should leave the more extreme experiments to my own room, like I usually do, but--I got carried away.”
Hunk’s words bounced around in his head, creating images that burned bright in Shiro’s mind. Blood was thrumming in his ears, his heart thudding heavy in his chest as he followed Hunk’s big hand cross over the bloated top of his gut; he knew that Hunk was watching, reading all the lust and longing written on his face, but he just couldn’t hide it any longer.
“--but don’t worry, this is, it’s nothing, I can still fit in my suit, those things are stretchy as hell.” Hunk was still talking, and it seemed like he was intent on driving Shiro crazy by adding fuel to the fire burning inside him. “I’ve actually tried it, you know, with a full belly, so I know--”
Shiro shuddered, lurching forward to clasp his hand over Hunk’s mouth to shut him up; he saw Hunk’s eyes fly wide with surprise and flushed, ripping his arm back again.
“Shiro?”
God, he was going to fuck everything up.
“I know I said no questions asked, but--”
He stared at his arm, not trusting himself to look at Hunk; the metal of his prosthetic looked almost black in the darkness, but the trails of purple that ran through it were pulsing like veins, making it look alive. He let it drop to his side, clenching his fist tight, trying to find his calm before meeting Hunk’s gaze again.
“What were you doing at the common room tonight?”
There was a pause. Then Hunk’s face split into a grin and he said, “Like I said, it’s research.” He could probably read the confusion from Shiro’s face as he grinned even wider, rubbing his belly with satisfaction. “You know how Keith said it’s all the same, the food goo? Well, I’ve been doing some digging into the castle’s database and there’s actually loads of different options if you know how to work the food processor, you just need to know what you’re doing.”
“So you...” Shiro’s voice trailed off, his mind going back to the scene he’d witnessed--there had been so many bowls, stacks of them littering the couch, more than he’d ever seen at the breakfast table.
“I’m going to prove him wrong,” Hunk answered before he could finish his question, looking more smug than ashamed. “I mean, I was going to just taste them all, just a little, but then--the red one was so good , and the blue one tasted just like the pie my mama used to make, and oh my god the yellow one-- ” He made a sound, looking wistful like he was still craving the taste even though he was filled to the brim. “I, uh. I got slightly carried away.”
Shiro realized he was holding his breath, eyes fixed on the outline of Hunk’s gut where it pushed against his shirt, where his hand still kneaded it. It looked so round , wide and bloated from top to bottom, and Shiro had to force his body to stay still, not to reach out and cradle that heavy weight.
He exhaled, his body tense with yearning, and his words came out in a rush, harsh and low. “How many did you have?”
“Nine.” Hunk said, his face set with pride under a flush. “Once I got to the eighth bowl, I just had to go for one more because--new personal record, yo.”
Shiro could barely hide his reaction, the choked sound still loud in the quiet corridor; the sheer amount of food that gut could hold made his blood run hot, and he wanted so badly to feel --
“That’s--” he started, but his mind was blank, preoccupied with everything that was in front of him, just within a reach, so he did the only thing that seemed like a sane idea.
He turned away, just about to bolt when Hunk caught him. “Don’t,” he said, fixing his grip on Shiro’s arm. “I want to ask a question too.”
Half of Shiro’s brain was still screaming for him to leave, but it was like Hunk’s hand was an anchor, holding his world still; he looked back, meeting his dark gaze.
He looked almost as terrified as Shiro felt, but there was more to it than just that, a glimmer of hope shining in the faint curve of his smile.
“Could you help me with one more thing?”
At that point, Shiro realized he had no fight left in him; he felt drained of resistance when he finally sighed and said, “And what would that be?”
“This.”
He let Hunk pull him around, and slowly place Shiro’s hand against his gut. A shiver ran through him, sending heat in its wake; he let out a soft gasp as Hunk pressed his palm over Shiro’s, guiding it over the expanse of his belly, then returning to the same spot in the middle.
“I could use some help with this. I mean, if you want to,” Hunk said, his voice soft; he lifted off his hand, leaving Shiro to make his decision.
He stared at his hand, the black and purple stark against Hunk’s shirt. He could only feel how tight and swollen it was but no heat, no sensory details and--he wanted to.
He wanted this, and Hunk--
With deliberate calmness, Shiro brought his other hand to Hunk’s middle, moving his palms to frame his belly and squeezed , his breath catching in his throat. “You want my help?” he asked, tearing his eyes up to look into Hunk’s, and just barely restraining himself from pushing him against the doorframe.
Hunk’s eyes looked oddly bright in the dim corridor, the grin on his lips lighting his whole face up. He made a sound when Shiro’s hands slid lower, low enough to lift his heavy belly and weigh it, fingers sinking into the soft flesh there, and he sighed.
“I most certainly do.”