“I know you’re not getting any medical data from that,” Dan said. He looked pointedly at Herbert’s hand, resting at the top of Dan’s stomach. His very full stomach, because for some reason Dan had agreed to help Herbert’s investigation of human stomach capacity, which somehow was going to help them figure out how the contents of a corpse’s stomach affected reaction to the reagent.
Or not. Dan was really leaning towards not, at this point. He probably should have figured that out when Herbert insisted that Dan take off his shirt.
“Of course I am,” Herbert said. He smiled that weird, objectively creepy little smile that Dan had gotten fond of, God help him. Herbert brushed his thumb over the bare skin in a pretty unscientific manner, and Dan shivered. Not in a bad way, though. Yeah, he was a little uncomfortable; he couldn’t put food away quite like he had when he was a teenager. But everybody liked feeling full, right?
He did feel a little conspicuous, because that really had been a lot of pasta, and he was pretty sure his stomach would have a visible curve to it if Herbert ever moved his hand.
Herbert didn’t seem likely to do that anytime soon. He kept on gently thumbing across the skin right where Dan felt most swollen, watching the motion with that bright, sharp gaze he reserved for only the most interesting experiments. Which apparently Dan was, today. Having Herbert’s attention fixed on him like that—yeah, it kind of took Dan’s breath away, even if it usually happened in bed.
Or that breathless feeling might have been because Dan was so very full. “Geez,” he said, shifting back against the dining chair like that was going to ease the internal pressure. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t. He flattened his palm against himself, just below Herbert’s hand, and rubbed awkwardly.
“Allow me,” Herbert said. He pushed aside the chair he’d been sitting on and knelt on the threadbare rug, put both his hands on Dan’s stomach, and gently began to massage it.
That got some results almost immediately. Dan belched quietly into his hand. Herbert didn’t seem perturbed by this; if anything, he smiled a little wider, his gaze still focused on Dan’s stomach. God, Dan really had eaten a lot, and it really was visible: a shallow convex curve below his ribs he definitely hadn’t had two hours ago. The curve seemed even more obvious with Herbert’s hands framing it.
The embarrassment that’d been sneaking up on Dan for a while finally washed over him in a hot, full-body flush. He’d never felt self-conscious about eating before, but then he’d never had anyone pay this much attention while he did it—or to the results afterwards. “Herbert…”
Herbert looked up, and his expression softened. “You’re doing very well,” he said, patting Dan’s stomach solicitously. Dan felt his cheeks heat further. “Are you uncomfortable?”
Dan shifted his weight again, but there was still nowhere to go. “A little.”
“Well, I would imagine. You’ve eaten a great deal.” Herbert said this frankly, without any judgment—which was a good thing, because it’d been his idea—but the words alone made Dan feel hot all over.
All over. As his pulse beat in his ears, Dan discovered that the hot, squirmy feeling in his gut wasn’t embarrassment or even indigestion: it was arousal. Oh god, Herbert was rubbing Dan’s stomach, clinically noting how much he’d eaten, and Dan was into it. When he’d agreed to help Herbert make new scientific discoveries, this was not what he’d had in mind.
“There’s a little bit left in the bowl, I believe,” Herbert said.
“Okay,” Dan said. His voice cracked a little on the second syllable, but if Herbert noticed, he didn’t comment it.
“Should I feed you the rest, or would you rather I stayed down here?”
“There,” Dan said. “Keep—keep touching me.”
“Very well,” Herbert said, as if he were making a concession. Maybe he was. Maybe he had an unguessed thing for feeding people, but too bad, because Dan needed Herbert’s hands to stay right where they were.
Dan reached for the serving bowl. Yeah, there was still some pasta left in the bottom. The bowl had been full when they’d started. Herbert had weighed the contents and everything. He’d insisted that they make ‘extra,’ not that it looked like there was going to be much left. Dan took a moment to consider, by simple subtraction, how much was in his stomach now. The answer was: a lot.
His dick twitched at the thought. Mercifully, Herbert didn’t comment on that either.
Eating that next bite of pasta was a lot different in the light of Dan’s new self-knowledge. Just putting the fork in his mouth felt somehow indecent, especially when Herbert looked up to watch with that ever-sharp gaze, a hint of approval at the back of it. Chewing felt like a delay of the inevitable, and swallowing felt downright obscene.
After a few more bites, Dan felt noticeably more bloated. He paused, feeling out the new sensation, deciding if he was done. As if on cue, Herbert dug the heels of his hands in a little more, deepening the massage. Dan was already pretty near his limit, and more pressure shouldn’t have felt good, but it did.
A belch surprised him. It caught him with his mouth open, and it seemed absurdly loud. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“You’re doing very well,” Herbert said again. This time the words went straight to Dan’s dick. Surely Herbert had noticed by now, but he still hadn’t said anything. “Is it empty?” he asked instead.
There was probably half a serving left. “Not quite.”
Herbert gazed up at him expectantly.
“I don’t know about this, Herbert.”
“It’s for the experiment,” Herbert said earnestly.
Dan rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Getting those last few bites down was a struggle. Dan had to pause a couple of times for a breather. Herbert stroked Dan’s stomach and murmured encouragement.
At last, when there were only broken half-noodles left, Dan put the bowl aside, relaxed back against the chair, and closed his eyes. That was either worse or better, he wasn’t sure which, because with his eyes closed there was nothing left for him to focus on but how full he was and how good Herbert’s hands felt, gently kneading Dan’s swollen stomach.
Herbert worked a couple more pockets of air out Dan. Then he stopped his massage for a moment, skimming his fingers over Dan’s skin. Somehow that made Dan feel bigger, as though Herbert were mapping the precise boundaries of Dan’s body, leaving no part of it to the imagination and allowing no illusions of exactly how stuffed he was.
“Did you—did you get all your data?” Dan asked breathlessly.
“Almost,” Herbert said. His gaze still fixed on Dan’s face, he slid his hand down to Dan’s jeans and brushed his fingers across the crotch.
Even that light, casual touch sent sparks all the way up Dan’s dick. He was harder than he’d thought, and yet he wasn’t sure he had it in him to do a single thing about it. “I’m really full,” he said apologetically.
“Leave it to me,” Herbert said. He pushed Dan’s knees open and inched forward, settling between them. He loosened Dan’s belt—more of a relief than Dan had expected—and unfastened his jeans, and he drew Dan’s dick out. Even the cool wash of the open air felt good, and a shiver raced all the way up Dan’s spine.
Herbert brushed his fingers along the shaft, looking smug. “Be careful,” Dan cautioned.
“Of course,” Herbert said reprovingly. He bent to lick the head, and Dan almost came on the spot. Even that much tension made his stomach feel tighter, fuller. He gripped the sides of the dining room chair to keep himself still. Then Herbert took the head into his mouth, and Dan groaned, half in confused pleasure and half in pain as the fullness of his stomach deepened into an ache—except the ache felt kind of good, too.
It was one of the more confusing blow jobs of Dan’s life. Every moment he expected the ache to sharpen into real pain, into something he didn’t want. Little shocks of pleasure kept zinging up his dick. After a while he found he’d let go of the chair and was clutching his stomach with both hands, like he was holding himself together.
And then he lost his grip. All the tension in him—in his balls, his gut, his overfull stomach—tightened that little bit more, and throbbing, aching arousal crested and washed over him. When it was over, Dan leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes, still gasping for air. Herbert put both his hands on Dan’s stomach and rubbed gently.
“You know,” Dan said, “you could have just asked me. We could have skipped the experiment part.”
“I liked that part,” Herbert said, sounding offended.
Of course he had. Dan laughed to himself and then was a little sorry. Ouch. “Fair enough. I’m just saying, next time if you want to do, you know, something different, you don’t have to trick me into it. You could just ask. I’ll probably say yes.”
“Oh,” Herbert said.
Dan opened his eyes. Herbert was regarding him with careful suspicion. Herbert, Dan thought, did not have a whole lot of experience in asking for things; mostly he just took them. But after a few beats he dipped his chin in agreement. “Very well.”
“Great.” Dan rubbed ineffectually at his stomach and groaned. “Okay, I’m going to go try to sleep this off. You coming?”
“Of course,” Herbert said. He helped Dan to his feet and steadied him as he staggered towards the stairs.
It was going to take a hell of a nap to sleep off that dinner, but Dan was kind of looking forward to it.