#kerwyn's writing
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The Sensation of Your Hands on Me
A Belly Kink fic by Kerwynlar
When the prince consort finds out that the king, his arranged marriage husband, is suffering from indigestion, he just wants to help him feel better.
Modern royalty arranged marriage romance with belly kink/sick kink.
Tags: Original male character/Original male character, Sickfic, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Indigestion, Burping, Embarrassment About Burping and Getting Over That, Fluff, Romance
2,550 words
Read it below or on AO3.
~*~
Prince Consort Nathaniel stayed by his husband’s side as King Lawrence worked the room following the banquet. Mostly this involved a steady stream of people approaching where Nate and Lawrence were standing next to a high top table, bowing to the king, and attempting to make conversation that they imagined would curry favor with him. Lawrence was pleasant and gracious to everyone, but as the evening wore on, Nate thought his expression seemed more and more pinched, and Nate watched him press his hand to his belly a few times. Lawrence’s three-piece suit was immaculately tailored but it seemed to Nate that it was fitting a little tightly across his middle.
They had been married for four months, but had known each other for years. As the second son of the royal family of a neighboring kingdom, Nate had been dispatched by his sister on diplomatic missions to Lawrence’s court many times. The two got along well and Nate had been hesitantly considering Lawrence a friend for a while. When his sister told him that she and King Lawrence were negotiating a new treaty and part of it would entail Nate’s marriage to Lawrence, Nate had been thrilled. Because aside from Lawrence’s position, Nate had always found him very attractive, and a true pleasure to talk to. Their wedding night had been wonderful, and within a month Nate had admitted to himself that he had a massive crush on his husband. It wasn’t clear if Lawrence felt the same way, but they continued being friendly, bordering on affectionate with each other, and very happily “doing their marital duty.”
Four months of accompanying Lawrence to this kind of formal event had given Nate a pretty good idea of what was normal for the king and what was not. Nate was certain something was wrong but there was no opportunity to ask.
Finally, Lawrence signaled to his security chief that he was ready to go, and caught the attention of their host to say his goodbyes. The armored limousine was waiting at the front door when they walked out, and Nate kept his hand on Lawrence’s back as the king got in, then went around the other side and got in himself.
The privacy screen that separated them from the chauffeur and bodyguard in the front seat was raised. Nate loosened his tie and looked over at Lawrence, whose head was resting back against the seat with his eyes closed. In the light coming in the car window, he looked very pale.
“Lawrence? Are you alright?” Nate asked gently.
“Yes, of course,” the king replied suspiciously quickly.
“It’s just… you’ve seemed uncomfortable since the dinner ended and you look a little bloated.” Nate nodded at the buttons of Lawrence’s waistcoat, which, now that his jacket was unbuttoned, were clearly straining against his belly.
Lawrence opened his eyes, looking horrified. He sat up quickly and covered his belly with his hand.
“I don’t think anyone else would have noticed!” Nate said quickly, raising his hands. “I only saw the bloating once we were in the car and I was the only one who saw you in between talking to people at the event. I’m sure nothing seemed off to anyone else.”
Lawrence sighed and relaxed a little. “You really don’t think anyone else noticed?”
“Yeah, you were holding it together really well. But you don’t have to do that with me. We’re married now, remember? I’m on your side no matter what and I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”
Lawrence gave him a wan smile. “I appreciate that, Nathaniel.”
“So, are you feeling sick?”
Lawrence grimaced. “It’s just indigestion. It… is not an infrequent occurrence.”
“What do you do when it happens? I think we have about a two hour drive back to the palace. There’s not much around but I’m sure Security can figure something out if you need to stop.”
Lawrence sighed. “I just want to get home and go to bed.”
Nate nodded. “Anything we can do to make the drive more comfortable? I’m happy to have you put your head in my lap if you want to lay down.”
Lawrence shook his head and opened his mouth to respond, then quickly closed it again and swallowed thickly.
Nate reached out to touch his arm. “Nausea?” he guessed.
Lawrence shook his head again as he breathed out slowly. “I - my stomach just… hurts. I’m not nauseated.”
Nate grimaced sympathetically. “How about unbuttoning your waistcoat? It looks uncomfortable.”
Lawrence looked a little scandalized.
“You do know I see you naked?” Nate chuckled. “And maybe by the time we get home you’ll be less bloated and can do it back up before you get out of the car.”
Lawrence looked away from him. “Nathaniel, you - you have a very positive view of me… and I am reluctant to damage that view.”
Nate reached over and took Lawrence’s hand, then brought it to his lips to kiss. “I promise you that I don’t think less of you because you have indigestion, Lawrence.”
Lawrence sighed and resignedly loosed the buttons of the waistcoat. The sides of the garment parted and he gave a little “mmf” that sounded relieved, before making the odd swallowing motion again.
Lawrence ran his hand over his exposed shirt front, which was also tighter than it should have been, but not straining the way the waistcoat had been. But with the waistcoat out of the way it quickly became apparent that the trousers were the real culprit: the waistband cutting a harsh line through his bloated middle. Lawrence’s hand strayed to the button of his trousers but took no further action, though he did swallow again.
“Go on,” Nate encouraged him. “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about, love. Might as well be comfortable. It’s just me.” He hadn’t really noticed the endearment until Lawrence gave him a sideways glance, but neither of them commented and Lawrence undid his trousers. His belly pushed forward, forcing the zipper down a little, and Lawrence groaned.
Nate grimaced. “Your poor belly. You must be feeling awful.”
“I’m… somewhat used to it,” Lawrence said quietly. “But it’s not pleasant. I’m sorry to have made such a spectacle of myself. Thank you for being so kind about it.”
“Lawrence. I’m your husband and we’re alone. I can’t think of anything that is less accurately described as a spectacle. Now how else can we make you more comfortable? I could rub your belly for you? Might feel nice.”
Lawrence shook his head quickly. “Baring myself is one thing, but I don’t want to disgust you.”
Nate frowned. “Because you’re bloated? Nothing disgusting about that. I’d like to help you feel better if I can.”
“No, because I might…” Lawrence gestured vaguely. “Not be able to… hold it in.”
Nate was confused for a moment before the swallowing made sense and realization dawned. “Are you keeping yourself from burping?!”
Lawrence looked away from him.
“Lawrence! No wonder you’re so bloated! Let that out!”
“It’s unseemly and unpleasant,” came the muttered reply.
Nate sighed and reached over to touch Lawrence’s cheek, then applied a gentle pressure to get him to turn to face Nate.
“Forget ‘unseemly’, I’m begging you. Our marriage may have been arranged, but I really care about you, Lawrence. I have the utmost respect for you and that’s not going to change one iota because you get indigestion and you burp when you do! I mean, I know you’re the king, but you’ve got a human body and human bodies burp sometimes.”
Lawrence sighed, looking down again. “You’re very kind, Nathaniel.”
Nate moved one of his hands to Lawrence’s swollen belly. It felt firm and hot even through the shirt. “Please, let me try to help you feel better.”
Lawrence hesitated, then nodded.
Nate slid closer on the limousine seat and spread his palm over Lawrence’s belly, clearly feeling the unhappy grumbling within. “Let me know if anything I’m doing doesn’t feel good, okay? And no more holding back if you need to burp.”
Lawrence nodded again and Nate moved his hand to the top of the swell, just below Lawrence’s ribs, where the gurgling was strongest. He started moving his hand in slow circles, pressing gently. After only a minute, Nate felt the gurgling intensify. Lawrence gave him a miserable glance, then turned his face away and covered his mouth, letting out a quiet burp and muttering “excuse me”.
“That’s a good start,” Nate said, “but I know you can do better.”
Lawrence rolled his eyes but a minute later he turned away again and gave a much deeper and louder belch. “Excuse me.”
“There you go.” Nate smiled. “How did that feel?”
“Embarrassing and unpleasant.” Lawrence frowned, then relented. “But necessary. I suspect it helped a bit.”
“Good,” Nate said firmly. “Could I unbutton your shirt so I stop getting hung up on the buttons?”
“Certainly not my favorite context for you to undress me,” Lawrence said, “but yes.”
Nate quickly undid the buttons of Lawrence’s shirt and spread it open, revealing the soft white undershirt beneath. He began rubbing circles over Lawrence’s stomach again, this time with both hands.
Lawrence gave a soft groan and relaxed back into his seat. “Oh, that feels very nice, Nathaniel.”
“I’m glad.” Nate smiled.
“Would you rub a little lower as well, please?” Lawrence asked quietly. “Maybe my sides.”
“Of course, love.” Nate started moving his hands in sweeping arcs down the sides of Lawrence’s belly and back up the middle.
Lawrence closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh. “Wonderful. Thank you so much.”
Nate didn’t bother to prevent his pleased grin. “You’re welcome, I’m glad it feels good.”
Though Lawrence covered his mouth when he belched again a minute later, he barely turned his head.
“You said this happens a lot?” Nate asked. He was certain Lawrence wasn’t asleep, but thought he might be relaxed enough to share a little.
“I’ve always had a sensitive stomach,” came the murmured reply. “There are some things I simply can’t eat and my staff provides that list to anyone serving me food outside the palace, but frequently some ingredient is overlooked, or something that I wasn’t previously aware of as a problem will set me off.”
Nate couldn’t help it: he leaned forward to place a kiss on Lawrence’s belly. It was still bloated but seemed a little less tight and gurgly than it had been. When he sat up, Lawrence was watching him.
“Kiss it better?” Nate offered with a lopsided grin.
Lawrence gave a soft chuckle. “You’re wonderful.”
Smiling ear to ear, Nate went back to rubbing his belly.
Nate roused Lawrence out of his doze as they neared the palace.
“You are the king,” Nate said as he watched Lawrence re-button his shirt. “If you didn’t want to do up your trousers no one would say a word.”
Lawrence sighed. “Just because no one can speak against me does not mean I should give them something to resist speaking about.”
Nate smiled and gave his arm a squeeze. It was a classic Lawrence thing to say.
“Anyway,” Lawrence said as he started pulling the sides of his trousers together, “you’ve really helped immensely.” He got them buttoned with a grunt of effort, and while they were clearly too tight, it did appear to be better than before.
When the car stopped, Nate leapt out and hurried around so that he could offer Lawrence his hand. The king accepted the assistance with a warm smile, and threaded his arm through Nate’s as they walked into the palace. Lawrence held onto Nate firmly and leaned against him in a way that made Nate’s own stomach flutter.
Nate cleared his throat when they turned into the corridor that led to their rooms. “Shall I - ah - come with you? Help you get settled?”
They had adjoining bedrooms. Usually Nate slept in his own room and Lawrence slept in his, except when they had had sex late at night in Lawrence’s room and neither of them was awake enough after for Nate to leave.
“I’d like that very much if you don’t mind,” Lawrence said.
“Not at all,” Nate said with a smile, steering them to Lawrence’s door.
Inside, Nate helped Lawrence out of his suit and into soft silk pajamas. The king tied the drawstring of the bottoms under his still-bloated belly, and smoothed the shirt over the curve. He looked up at Nate. “Nathaniel…” Lawrence looked away quickly. “Would you… would you consider staying with me tonight?”
Nate’s eyebrows shot up, but Lawrence continued.
“Just - um - just to sleep. I… I find I’m reluctant to part with the sensation of your hands on me.”
Smiling, Nate leaned in to kiss Lawrence’s forehead. “Good, because I’m reluctant to stop touching you. Let me just change. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Eight and a half minutes later, Nate re-entered Lawrence’s room just as the king was emerging from the en suite, one hand pressed to his belly.
Nate’s happiness was immediately tinged with concern. “How are you feeling?”
Lawrence shrugged. “Better than I was, but still a bit sore and bloated.”
Nate nodded and pulled back the covers on the bed for Lawrence to get in. After some maneuvering, they settled on their sides, Nate’s front pressed to Lawrence’s back. Nate slipped his hand under Lawrence’s shirt to rest on his belly. He spread his fingers wide, trying to cover as much area as possible in hopes that the warmth and pressure of his hand would continue to help.
Lawrence gave a relaxed sigh, and Nate kissed his shoulder blade. The room was perfectly quiet until Lawrence spoke again.
“The treaty is a ruse, you know,” he said.
Nate frowned, not following at all. “What?”
“I initiated negotiations with your sister because I wanted to marry you.”
Nate’s frown deepened. “That’s not right,” he said. “Amelia sent you the first letter asking if you would be open to a new treaty.”
Lawrence nodded. “Prior to that letter, two diplomats mentioned to Queen Amelia that I seemed open to discussions on tariffs. They did so at my request. I wanted to encourage her, but make it seem like it was her idea.”
“But… you did lower tariffs. And you gave her some airplanes.” Nate tried to process his husband’s words.
“Yes, and I got lower - urrf, excuse me - lower grain prices and a number of other benefits for my kingdom. But the outcome that I, personally, wanted, above everything else, was your hand in marriage.”
“I… but why?”
“You are a very smart man, Nathaniel,” Lawrence said quietly. “You don’t need me to answer that.”
Nate felt a shudder run through his body. “Why are you telling me now?” he heard himself ask.
Lawrence rolled over, bringing their faces inches apart. “Because in all my thinking about marrying you, I never expected… this. I never expected that you would be this kind, and this caring, and this insistent on helping me.”
Warmth had been building in Nate’s chest and now it burst forth. He closed the inches to kiss Lawrence’s lips and they melted together.
“Well, your majesty,” Nate said, when they finally broke apart to breathe, “I can confidently promise you a lifetime more of this.”
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;; Only Time Will Tell ( Ch 1 )
Pairing: King Eckbert/Queen Erin
Words: 537
Chapter: 1/?
Summary: Taking place before The False Prince, Jaron is found after the pirate attack.
-- King Eckbert faces a difficult decision.
“My hands are tied, there isn’t an option in the world that gives me all my desires, let alone even one of my desires--and, worst of all, I can’t distinguish which one to pursue.” Pleading eyes found their way over to the High Chamberlain as if he had any advice to give. The King kept pace along the floorboards, his hands behind his back as anxious energy permeated the room.
“Sire--”
Eckbert’s worry was rooted deep into the crevasses of his face. After a moment of letting his thoughts hang in the air, his feet abruptly turned themselves to the door without warning, “I should at least tell Erin--”
Before he could pull the handle open, a hand stopped him gently.
“Your Majesty, there isn’t a cage in the world that could hold your son nor foe that could outwit that incorrigible child. He is much too clever and brash for his age, with all due respect; your son will live his life with the same passion he has always had, much to the chagrin of those he will meet. I have no fears regarding that.”
The King looked down, furrowing his brows as he allowed himself to finally take in a breath. “We found him, Joth,” he said barely above a whisper, “we found him…” he trailed off, wringing his hands together. “I can’t leave him out to the wolves--he was never meant to live like a fugitive, he never should’ve had to live like a fugitive--he’s a prince, for saint’s sake!” Though there was anger in his tone, his misty eyes gave him away.
Eckbert sighed, closing his eyes as he continued. “He might be clever, and he certainly can be brash, but he grew up in a palace of all places, not the streets of Avenia. His mouth will only get him whipped, his tricks will only delay the inevitable.” He faced the floor with a hard look, his cynicism taking its toll. “You can’t possibly think he’s prepared for a life such as that? He’s only a boy, Joth--there must be something more we can do for him? What if… what if he slips up--” Kerwyn put his hand on Eckbert’s shoulders, a stoic expression resting solidly on his features.
“He won’t slip up, Your Majesty,” though his words spoke of confidence, his eyes held the same fear. It was unprecedented to leave a legitimate heir out in the cold with only the shirt on their back and the training that prepared them for a life of luxury rather than the hard lessons life often threw at those below a certain means. If their gamble were to ultimately fail--if they truly lost Jaron to the storm, the ruse discovered without a safety net in place--was any of this facade worth the years they would deprive him of? If the fate of the kingdom came to the young prince, would he hold malice in his heart and turn his back on the kingdom who left him to fend for himself or would he rise above it all--leading the kingdom into a new age of peace and prosperity?
Only time would tell--and time never told its secrets.
#the false prince#the shadow throne#the runaway king#king eckbert#jaron artolius eckbert#queen erin#joth kerwyn#my writing#;; only time will tell
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hello and welcome to cobalt’s thoughts on tsc!
SPOILER WARNING
I really loved it!
I found castor really annoying ngl
Teenage fink was terifiying but i loved it at the same time
where was amarinda and roden the whole time?
what even happened to nila?
errol ♥
cook ♥
so much imogen content!!!
i was concerned when i found out jaron and imogen were related, but i know its really distant so like... but still-
wilta ♥
TOBIAS WAS SO COOL IN THIS BOOK I LOVE HIM SM im legit proud of him
fink swears 😭
i expected jane to go out with more of a bang
VELDERGRATH IS DEAD 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭
i have new fanfic ideas ;)
im so sad its over
tobias ♥
its so bittersweet when you finish a book
IMOGEN THE PEACEBRINGER OMGGGG ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
I want more Amarinda content 😤😤
chapter 31 ♥
Darius in this book >>>>>>>>>>>
made me cry
MOTT AS THE HIGH CHAMBERSOMETHING YES PLEASE
i high-key shipped jaronxtobias for like 5 minutes
TOBIASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
i want to write a tobias fic now
im still crying
TOBIAS KILLED MERCY (RIGHT????)
Imogen was #girlbossin this whole book
F IN THE CHAT FOR KERWYN
WHERE WAS AMARINDA??????????????????????
AND RODEN?????????????
TOBIAS ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
ok im done now
im so sad now someone send me wholesome tas fics pls
im gonna try to catch up on ascendance month
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one of the perks of writing a fic set in the future is that if i really hate the shattered castle i can always just write another fic about reversing everything it says.
maybe it includes tobias learning necromancy from kerwyn, maybe it doesnt
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The Captive Kingdom Launch Party HIGHLIGHTS
Jen has a dog that won't play fetch and a cat that hallucinates
The Kings English Bookstore is home to many authors in Utah and it has been hit hard by Covid-19. She asks for us to support them or your local indie bookstore!!!
November 14, there is going to be an author extravaganza to support TKE Bookstore
Shortly after the False Prince came out, she was still a very new author, she got a tweet from R.L. Stine, author of Goosebumps saying how much he loved TFP. She was so excited and she wanted to thank him personally but didn't know his name, and he had called her Jennifer so she didn't want to say Mr. Stine.So she ended up just saying, thanks!
Book 5 is due to her editor Monday (October 5, 2020) and she said she would be finishing this (the launch) then getting right back to it!
She showed her open project folders (there are a LOT)
Working on a World War 1 story and she showed history books she is reading such as History of the World War, A World Undone, and Weird War One.
One of her new works is about a kid with no memory, a magic sharpie, and a dice game called Boggle that sometimes talks to him and he sees a message in the dice: “they know ur here go”
Q&A!!!
Disney, book to movie adaptation possibilities? She'd be fine with it if they asked. She wants it to be made right. She wants someone who comes to at it with a fan’s perspective.
Paramount Pictures had optioned the rights to the False Prince, what happened? When you have a contract, every six months they have to decide whether to extend, cancel, or make the movie. As her six months was coming up, they fired their CEO, so everything evaporated.
How does it affect you emotionally when one of your characters goes through something traumatic or extremely challenging? She has a background in theatre and she comes to writing from a theatrical perspective. It plays out in her head like it's on stage so she becomes every character. She goes through everything with her characters, she feels it, she dreads it, she feels awful, but she's learned that “Most of us are in this stasis of being where we are just comfortable being exactly who we are and when something hard happens to us, even if we hate it, it forces us to grow. The hard thing creates heroes. So my characters start out believing they are just ordinary people, but when I do the hard things, my characters become very heroic characters. I do hard things to them because I love watching them grow.” I had to include this quote because it was so great
Favorite background character who you think gets overlooked a lot? Kerwyn, he is one of the very few stable things in the lives of the main characters, he is just good, strong, and loyal. Amarinda, she’s ok with being overlooked but she is so strong and intelligent.
Characters based on yourself? Not really, she doesn't think she is interesting enough to write about, but Sage, like her, is left handed, climbs, and has her sense of humor. She relates closely to the main character from the Scourge, Ani, and sees a lot of herself in her, but didn't base Ani on herself, they just have a lot in common.
Jen discussed how she plots out her books and how many drafts she goes through: she's got to know the twist so she can layout the hints. She shows an example of a chart of how much each character and what the reader knows. She rewrites a lot and feels it come together. First rewrite is fixing major plot issues. Second, logic. Dialogue. Description. Word choice. Could be 10-15 drafts before her editor sees it, who sees things Jen missed.
Have your characters ever taken you by surprise (with twists)? The ending of Mark of the Thief book one, she didn't expect, so she had to make some changes. Usually on top of it, and has something called the Rule of Five. Has a general idea, and makes herself come up with five possible ways the idea could play out. 1, usually pretty predictable. 5, usually really weird. 2, 3, and 4 she really gets creative. “Limitations are the mother of creativity.”
How she gets her character names: baby name books and websites (Imogen and Tobias). Symbolic, Sage (wise, a way for him to stick it to his dad and say he has wisdom), Connor (con man), Jaron (teenage boy she knew who was just a great person and outstanding kid, and if we had royalty in our country he would be a prince). Put sounds together, places, Amarinda, Mott, Roden, Kerwyn. (She also gave an example for writers to use: UTAH, UTAR, TUTAR, TOTAR, TOTARA, city of Totara!!)
She explained how she does her fantasy world building and it is mainly based on what she will need in the plot (ie Carthya is landlocked, mountains to the north, waterways that would be needed, it is resource wealthy making it desirable, etc)
Culture and religion in world building: how many gods or none? saints and devils! causing good and bad things in your life. Sage feels like he is constantly being harassed by the devils. It became a social thing in the world.
Would she want to live there [in Carthya]? Sometimes, but not in the last book that she is editing now!! *wink*
Where's fink's rat? Fink’s rat is on the castle grounds. She said this. It's canon. Fink’s. Rat. Is. In. The. Castle. (See @thedevilsofcarthya for full transcript of Jen discussing this)
TCK trailer: created by her family, particularly her son, Chase, and the voiceover was her son in law. Chase wanted to do something different and take a risk.
youtube
Your career as an author? When she started writing she knew nothing and nobody just had a manuscript that was ‘awful’ and will be buried with her. (I personally would read ANYTHING she wrote). She submitted her second one to “every agent with a pulse” and everyone said no. She wrote a new one, they said no. Fourth manuscript, she felt ready to break in, Apprentice to a Madman, she thought it was the best thing ever, submitted it and got a rejection scribble, not a letter, worked on it and kept getting rejected. One publisher had rep for taking everybody so she sent in hers. A couple months later, on her birthday, she got a call from a friend that they got an acceptance letter from the same publisher as she had submitted hers, got her own… rejected…She thought a lot about it and decided to erase everything she thought she knew about publishing and once she had a new idea, that manuscript got her agent and first publisher. That letter on her birthday was the last rejection letter she received. “Remember you can start from nowhere and find success.”
When asked for descriptions of the characters so an artist can draw them, she said, they look like how you envision them, there is no ‘right’. (Shows fanart from the competition that is on her blog!)
TCK art print was created by her niece, Ireland. It is her concept of the characters.
Writing during covid and quarantine? She's a strong believer that when God closes a door, he opens a window. She misses the opportunities to be in schools and bookshops. Just discovered a new WW2 true story she is researching. Various stories at different stages. Very excited for stories she has created because of Covid. “We will get through this, we will, and we're going to be stronger at the end because remember, when we go through hard things we get stronger."
#the ascendance series#the false prince#the runaway king#the shadow throne#jaron eckbert#ascendance trilogy#imogen#jaron#the ascendance trilogy#sage#fink#finks rat#the captive kingdom#launch party#Jarogen#jennifer a. nielsen#jennifer nielsen#ascendance month#tobias#roden#jaron artolius eckbert iii#mott#king jaron#amarinda#nila#ascendance series#ascendance month 2020
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Good Man
A Belly Kink Fic by Kerwynlar
The aristocratic author Lord Woolsey has found that he thinks best on a full stomach. A very full stomach. His butler is only all too happy to help out.
Tags: Explicit, Belly Kink, Burping, Overeating, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Enthusiastic consent but problematic power dynamic, implied/referenced sexual content
Note: This work was inspired by the excellent At His Service by pizza_my_heart. In that story the author does a beautiful job of putting the employer and the butler on equal footing. That's not what is going on here. While enthusiastic consent is given in this story, the power dynamic here makes the consent, at least the initial consent, dubious at best. In the real world this would be very fucked up. If you agree that it's hot in fiction, please read on. Basically all of my fics are built around very loving healthy relationships. This is not that.
1,163 words. Read it below or on AO3.
~*~
Reginald Montcrieff was not sitting idly fantasizing about his employer eating. Reginald Montcrieff was very busy balancing the household accounts. He had certainly not been staring blankly at the page for nearly half an hour, stirring at every half-sound that might be the bell summoning him to the dining room.
Reginald was not picturing the plates heaped with eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, beans, and tomatoes that he had served to his employer, Lord Peter Halberd Woolsey. He was certainly not picturing forkful after heaping forkful passing Lord Woolsey’s lips. And by no means was Reginald’s mouth watering at the thought of all that food heaped into his employer’s already rounded belly, stretching it and weighing it down, expanding it within the increasingly tight confines of his clothing.
The bell from the dining room finally rang and Reginald stood so fast, he nearly knocked over his chair.
---
Lord Woolsey was, at least according to the press, one of the greatest minds of his generation. His first two treatises on political philosophy were considered required reading for anyone seriously concerned with public affairs and were discussed and quoted from the coffee shops of the intelligentsia, to university classrooms, to the great halls of Parliament. He was currently penning his third, widely anticipated, treatise.
While he was writing his second book, Lord Woolsey discovered that he thought best on a full stomach. A very full stomach.
Reginald had been a footman during the writing of that second book and had marveled at the sight of the platters that had been taken into the dining room and equally marveled at the fact that they were all empty when returned to the kitchen.
But only the butler, whose duties included being the lord’s personal attendant, was permitted to interact with Lord Woolsey when he was writing. His lordship said that he needed to keep his mind clear of extraneous voices when writing.
Following the publication of the second book, when Reginald was once again permitted in a much more corpulent Lord Woolsey’s presence, the lord had begun to notice him. The notice turned to interest and conversation. Eventually Reginald had been invited to Woolsey’s bed. He had been assured that it was an invitation, not an order, and he had been more than happy to accept.
“Would you like a promotion, dear Reg?” Woolsey had asked him one night as he watched Reginald dress after an encounter that had been pleasurable for both of them.
“I wish to serve you, sir,” Reginald had replied easily. “However you see fit.”
“I’ll be writing again soon.” Woolsey ran a hand over his soft belly. Reginald didn’t bother to hide his appreciative look. Woolsey saw it and grinned. “You know about my… eccentricities when I’m writing?”
Reginald swallowed. “Yes, sir. As much as I can from the outside.”
“You’d be prepared to cater to them?”
Woolsey liked it when he was bold on occasion. Reginald climbed back on the bed and crawled up to him. He leaned over and kissed Woolsey’s plush belly. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly. “Whatever you need. Anything you want.”
The other butler had been fired the next day and Reginald had taken his place.
———
When Reginald entered the dining room, Woolsey was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, and both hands rubbing his belly. Reginald felt his mouth go dry. Woolsey’s belly was straining against his waistcoat and trousers.
“Was everything to your liking, sir?” Reginald asked as he began clearing the empty plates.
“Oh ye- UUUUUURRRRRP! Oh my, excuse me, Reg. Uurrp!”
Heaven help him, Reginald was getting excited by his employer belching.
“Nothing to worry about, sir,” Reginald replied more smoothly than he felt.
“And yes, tell Cook that I’ll want the same again tomorrow. Buuurrrp! With perhaps a few more sausages and a bit more toast.”
More? Reginald could scarcely believe it, but all that was left on the plates he was clearing was crumbs.
“Shall- shall I bring you anything else now sir?”
Woolsey smiled at him. “Good man. But no, I’m quite satisfied for now.” He frowned suddenly and rubbed a particular area of his belly, then pushed on it and immediately let loose a thunderous belch. “Mm, pardon me, dear Reg,” he breathed. “I hope I don’t offend you.”
“Not in the slightest, sir.”
Not in the slightest. Did Woolsey have any idea? He certainly knew how Reginald worshipped his belly in bed, how he loved the round shape of it, its soft plushness. But this? Woolsey’s overindulgence and the evidence of it? Well, if Woolsey knew he likely wouldn’t mind. There was no doubt he enjoyed when Reginald was aroused.
Woolsey belched again and gave a quiet groan, his hands roaming his large belly. “Ah, that’s good,” he sighed. Woolsey gave his belly another pat then sat up. “Come, dear Reg,” he said. “Give me a hand up. I’m positively weighed down by that lovely meal.”
Reginald quickly put down the plate he was about to take to the dumbwaiter and hurried over to help Woolsey out of his chair. As he heaved Woolsey to his feet, he felt his employer’s eyes on his face.
“You’re looking a little flushed, Reg,” Woolsey said, reaching up to stroke his cheek. Woolsey chuckled and Reginald tried not to notice the movement of his belly. Though that was more difficult when Woolsey took Reginald’s hand and placed it on the curve of his belly. “You like this, don’t you?” Woolsey asked quietly. “You like to see me plumped up with a meal. You always do like my belly. Can you imagine how fat I’ll get writing this book? I’m only on the second chapter, and I have lots more to say.”
Reginald gasped. He was painfully hard.
Woolsey glanced down and chuckled again. “Now what shall we do about that, hmm?”
“S-sir…” Reginald stuttered.
“I need to go write my book, dear Reg,” Woolsey said quietly, moving forward so his belly was inches from Reginald’s groin. “And I suggest you take a few minutes to compose yourself. But think how big I’ll be tonight after a nice big lunch of roast chicken and then beef and potatoes for dinner, hmm? I’ll be swollen and sluggish. Too full of food to really fuck you. You’ll need to ride my cock. But you’ll do that, won’t you dear Reg?”
“Y-yes, sir!” Reginald couldn’t have controlled his breathing if his life depended on it.
“That’s my good man.” Woolsey reached up to stroke Reginald’s cheek again. “You’ll look so pretty straddling my lap, your hands on my stuffed gut. You’ll be ready for me tonight, won’t you Reg?”
“Yes, sir,” Reginald gasped out.
Woolsey pressed Reginald’s hand to his belly and gave two quick strokes to the outline of Reginald’s cock clearly visible through his trousers.
“See that you are,” Woolsey said, and stepped back, surveying Reginald with a smile. He chuckled and left the room.
Reginald barely got his fly open fast enough.
~*~
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, I appreciate you letting me know. I have another chapter partially written, and I'm more likely to finish and post if I know it will get readers.
#kerwyn's writing#belly kink#stuffing#burping#overeating#weight gain#weight gain kink#problematic power dynamic
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A Notable Meal
A King of Mirokan story by Kerwynlar
Chapter 1: No kink. Nate meets someone important to Lawrence and learns a lot more about his husband.
Chapter 2 (will be in the reblog): Nate discovers that he likes it when Lawrence eats a lot. Really likes it.
5,350 words.
Read it below or on AO3.
~*~
Chapter 1
Nate tried not to let his driver see his frustration. It wasn’t Joshua’s fault that there was terrible traffic returning to the palace from the opening of the new exhibit at the art museum, and Nate always felt awkward raising the privacy screen mid-drive. He thought most of the staff liked him well enough but he did try to actively combat the “haughty foreign prince” stereotypes.
Nate looked at his phone again. He was absolutely going to be late for his next appointment which was dinner with Lawrence and Irina Hubbert. Nate had no idea who Irina Hubbert was and the calendar entry on his phone had no further details or briefing materials. With nothing better to do while the car crept along through traffic, Nate texted Sophia Kelling, one of Lawrence’s aides.
Sent: Who is Irina Hubbert?
Received: If HM didn’t tell you it’s probably best to let him introduce her.
Nate sighed and tapped his phone against his forehead. Great. He was going to be late for a mystery date. He knew “HM” (their shortened version of “His Majesty”) valued everything running smoothly, but surely Lawrence would understand the traffic.
By the time Nate reached the door to the drawing room, he was only ten minutes late. He paused to straighten his jacket and run his hand over his hair, then opened the door.
“Oh, but darling you look so well!”
Nate stopped in his tracks, surprised by the warm tone, not to mention the pet name.
The speaker was a tall, broad woman who Nate guessed was in her sixties, and as he watched, she reached forward and hugged Lawrence. Nate blinked. He was pretty sure he could count on one hand the number of people in the world who would be permitted to hug Lawrence, and he was one of them. But the king was smiling broadly. They pulled back and the woman reached down and patted Lawrence’s belly.
“You’ve finally managed to put some meat on your bones,” she said, “I’m so pleased.”
Lawrence had recently had to have all of his suits let out to accommodate the weight he had gained. While it wasn’t obvious to the casual observer, Nate felt (and Lawrence’s doctor agreed) that Lawrence had gone from too thin to a healthier weight. He had even started to gain a very slight paunch at his middle that Nate absolutely treasured.
Whoever this woman was, she certainly seemed to be fond of Lawrence. Nate cleared his throat and started forward again, and both Lawrence and the woman turned to him.
“Your Majesty,” Nate said, bowing to Lawrence, “I’m so sorry I’m late. Traffic coming from the museum was a nightmare.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Lawrence said, reaching for him.
Nate took his hand and Lawrence pulled him closer, wrapping his arm around Nate’s waist and giving him a squeeze.
Lawrence turned back to the woman. “Nathaniel, may I present Mrs. Irina Hubbert. Mrs. Hubbert, I’m very happy to introduce you to my husband, Prince Consort Nathaniel.”
Mrs. Hubbert gave an old-fashioned curtsy. “I’m honored to meet you, Prince Consort.”
“Very nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Hubbert,” Nate said with a friendly smile. He glanced at Lawrence for some clue about what came next.
“Mrs. Hubbert was my nurse and then my governess when I was a child,” Lawrence told him. “She and Mrs. Zeese basically raised me.”
“Mrs. Zeese was on night duty,” Mrs. Hubbert said.
“Oh!” Nate exclaimed. “Oh how wonderful! Mrs. Hubbert, I am thrilled to have the opportunity to get to know you. I want all the stories of His Majesty as a child.”
Mrs. Hubbert laughed. “I suspect if I told you everything I might be guilty of treason.”
“Mrs. Hubbert, you couldn’t commit treason if you tried,” Lawrence chuckled. “But Nathaniel and I have been married for less than a year. I think there are some things that can wait a little while.”
They moved to the sofas and Nate sat close beside Lawrence, facing Mrs. Hubbert.
“So were you here when he was first adopted, Mrs. Hubbert?” Nate asked.
“Oh yes,” she said. “The butler at the time hired Mrs. Zeese and me right after the vote. I don’t think he even asked Princess Saraphina.”
“The vote?” Nate frowned in confusion.
“When Parliament formally rejected my parents’ proposal to change the constitution to let their biological children inherit the throne,” Lawrence said, smoothing his hand over his waistcoat. “Once they had been formally rebuffed, they had to take the next child eligible for adoption. And obviously that was me.”
“I didn’t realize it had come down to a parliamentary vote!” Nate said, aghast.
Lawrence nodded. “Part of the reason they were so old when they got me was because my grandfather stayed on the throne until my father was 50, but then my parents delayed adopting and lobbied for years to try to change the constitution.”
“I don't think there was a single Mirokanian who was pleased by the royal family pulling that stunt,” Mrs. Hubbert said with a frown. “Including palace staff. Even if the king and princess consort weren’t going to prepare for the rightful heir, by god the staff was.”
“I knew your father was unpopular,” Nate said, racking his brain for information on the prior king of Mirokan. “Is that why? Because he tried to change the succession?”
Lawrence nodded. “It was one of the first things he tried to do when he took the throne, and I think people never forgave him or my mother for it. I think my people tend to give me the benefit of the doubt when I change things or try something new. No one was willing to do that for him after the business with the succession.”
“The heir to the throne is ours,” Mrs. Hubbert said. “That’s what the old king and the princess didn’t understand. It matters to us that the heir is of the people. That but for timing and luck, any of us might have been the heir.”
“So Parliament forced my parents to take me, more or less against their will,” Lawrence said. “And by that time they were well past their years of wanting to deal with a baby, even their own. Then to top it all off, I was difficult-“
“You were not difficult, Lawrence,” Mrs. Hubbert said sternly. “You were in pain and had no way to express it besides crying. It was not your fault.” She turned to Nate. “The poor little love was such a colicky baby. It took us months to work out just how serious his stomach issues were.”
Nate’s heart broke a little and he squeezed Lawrence’s knee.
“In the meantime,” Lawrence said, “my parents were more than happy to hand me over to Mrs. Hubbert and Mrs. Zeese. And I will be forever grateful to them for taking such good care of me.”
Lawrence and Mrs. Hubbert shared a warm look.
“How old was he when he was adopted?” Nate asked after a moment.
“Nine months,” Mrs. Hubbert said. “He was a little darling when he wasn’t crying. Desperate to be held all the time. Loved anyone who would give him a cuddle. We didn't get much information but it seemed like he was not cared for well before he was adopted. When he got here and had the whole staff fussing over him, he just couldn’t get enough of hugs.”
Nate glanced fondly at his husband, who was looking a tad embarrassed. He knew Lawrence liked physical affection but it was sweet to hear that he had always been that way.
“Was he terribly precocious?” Nate asked, turning back to Mrs. Hubbert. “I’ve always pictured him reading macroeconomics textbooks at age five.”
Mrs. Hubbert chuckled. “Maybe not economics quite that early, but he was reading when he was 4, I think. And we started teaching him some signs as soon as we got him and he picked them up immediately.”
“I think dinner is going to be served soon,” Lawrence said, in a transparent attempt to change the subject. “Mrs. Hubbert, did you hear that Helen is the head chef of the palace now?”
“I did.” Mrs. Hubbert beamed. “I also heard that you paid for her to go to culinary school.”
Lawrence nodded with a smile. “I did.”
Nate looked between them. “Why did you pay for Chef Helen to go to culinary school?”
“Helen was a junior kitchen assistant or something when I was a child,” Lawrence told him.
“She lied about her age to get a job here!” Mrs. Hubbert put in.
Lawrence chuckled. “That’s right. She couldn’t have been more than 14 when she was hired. But she stayed, and kept getting promoted. And when Chef Tucker told me he was retiring, I really wanted someone who was part of my wonderful memories in that kitchen to take over. So I asked Chef Tucker to stay at least part time until Helen could finish culinary school, and he was kind enough to do it for me.”
“What kind of good memories?” Nate asked quietly, slipping his hand into Lawrence’s.
“Oh, I spent hours and hours there,” Lawrence said, his eyes alight. “I didn’t like being alone as a child, so especially when I was supposed to be studying, I would go tuck myself into a corner of the kitchen where it was nice and warm and bright, and I would have the bustle as background noise while I did my work. There was always fresh-baked bread for me and they were always bringing me bits of this and that to taste. Chef Tucker said that even if I couldn’t eat things, I should know what they tasted like, so he would give me little bits of whatever he was cooking in quantities that, in theory, were small enough not to bother my stomach.”
Mrs. Hubbert snorted.
Lawrence grimaced and scratched his cheek. “That theory was not always true in practice.”
“On orders from his doctor, I was trying to keep an accurate food log for this child,” Mrs. Hubbert told Nate, “and I would ask him what he had eaten in the kitchen, and he would say so sweetly, ‘it was just a taste, Mrs. Hubbert!’ And then when he was writhing in pain an hour later I had to march down to the kitchen and deal with a chef who ‘cooked to taste, not to recipes’.” She rolled her eyes extravagantly.
“My food log got easier once the ministers started kidnapping me and I spent less time in the kitchen,” Lawrence said.
“I’m sorry, what?”
Before Nate could get an answer, the door opened and one of the servants entered.
“Your Majesty,” the servant said, “dinner can be served whenever you are ready.”
“Shall we eat?” Lawrence said as he started to get up.
“If Mrs. Hubbert is ready,” Nate said. “But I want to hear about getting kidnapped by ministers!”
Mrs. Hubbert stood. “Oh, I’m very excited about a meal cooked by Chef Helen!”
When they were seated, Nate noticed that Lawrence had a huge smile on his face, but his eyes looked a little misty. Nate reached out to touch his arm. “Lawrence? What is it?”
Lawrence covered Nate’s hand with his own. “I’m just very happy.” He looked from Nate to Mrs. Hubbert. “Having the two of you here with me…” he shook his head. “It makes me very happy.”
Mrs. Hubbert reached over to squeeze Lawrence’s other hand.
The moment was broken by servants entering carrying steaming dishes. Fresh, warm bread (a staple on Lawrence’s table) was placed in the center and each diner was presented with a bowl of fragrant stew.
“I asked Helen to make Chef Tucker’s chicken stew,” Lawrence told Mrs. Hubbert. “It was your favorite, wasn’t it?”
Mrs. Hubbert frowned at Lawrence’s dish. “Yes, but they’ve brought you the same thing!”
“Mmhm,” Lawrence said, picking up his spoon and going to take a bite.
“Darling, you can’t eat that!” Mrs. Hubbert exclaimed.
Lawrence chuckled. “You still remember all my dietary restrictions, Mrs. Hubbert?”
“Of course I do!” she replied indignantly. “But it would be hard to forget onions!”
“I’m trying to build up more of a tolerance to them,” Lawrence told her and took a bite.
“Oh, your poor stomach! Why?”
“You heard I’m going to Elendria to meet the president in a few months?”
“Yes, and I heard that you did the Rite of the Seven Glasses.” She gave him a stern look.
Lawrence put up his hands. “For diplomacy, Mrs. Hubbert! I wasn’t just getting drunk and I only did it because the minister insisted!”
Her expression softened. “You must have been quite ill afterwards.”
“I was a mess for a couple days.” He looked fondly at Nate. “Fortunately, I had my wonderful husband looking after me.”
Mrs. Hubbert turned to Nate. “And what does the wonderful husband think about the king exposing himself to a food that his doctors have said he shouldn’t eat?”
Nate quickly swallowed his mouthful of stew. “I’m in favor only because the king’s current gastroenterologist has signed off on it and is monitoring him closely,” he assured her.
“He’s ultrasounding my stomach every two weeks to make sure I’m not causing damage,” Lawrence said. “I’ll stop if he finds something wrong, but my trip to Elendria will be much smoother if I can eat the food without undue discomfort and the Elendrians seem incapable of preparing food without onions.”
Mrs. Hubbert ate a few bites of her meal before asking, “Does your doctor think exposure will work?”
“He thinks it’s worth a try,” Lawrence said.
“Is it worth making yourself repeatedly feel unwell?”
Lawrence glanced at Nate with a smile. “I’ve gotten better at handling the indigestion. That’s how I’ve gotten fat.”
“You’re not fat, Lawrence,” Mrs. Hubbert and Nate said simultaneously.
They all laughed.
“I’d rather have indigestion here and at times of my choosing if it means I might have an easier time in Elendria,” Lawrence said. “I figure you of all people would understand if I’m a bit sluggish after the meal, Mrs. Hubbert.”
“Of course, darling,” she said. “I hope the exposure works and makes eating Elendrian food easier.” She turned to Nate. “Are you going with him to Elendria, prince consort?”
“Oh, please call me Nate or Nathaniel,” Nate said with a smile. “And I understand that the diplomats are working out now whether or not I’m going. Vyrian’s relationship with Elendria is very different than Mirokan’s. I’ve been there several times and I speak a little Elendrian. I haven’t met the current president but I met her predecessor.”
“I very much want Nathaniel to join me,” Lawrence said. “But since the president is unmarried, I believe the diplomats are trying to figure out the logistics of what to do with him while the president and I are meeting.” He glanced warmly at Nate. “I’m sure I would benefit from him being in the room with me but we’ll have to content ourselves with him advising me after a recap in the evenings.”
Nate smiled warmly at the praise and ate a little more stew before remembering the prior conversation.
“Wait!” he said. “What was that about being kidnapped by ministers?”
Lawrence chuckled. “When I was… eleven?” he looked to Mrs. Hubbert for confirmation and she nodded. Lawrence continued. “I was coming out of school one day, and the car that was waiting for me wasn’t my usual one, or my usual driver. I looked at my bodyguard, and he said it was alright, but I did have a moment of fear that he had sold me out to kidnappers or something.”
“Was that Gerald?” Mrs. Hubbert asked.
“Yes, it was,” Lawrence told her.
“He was sweet on me,” she said with a sly grin.
“Oh, I know,” Lawrence said emphatically.
Nate considered pulling on that thread, but decided to leave it alone.
“So Gerald opens the back door,” Lawrence continued with his story, “and inside was Peter Morvan, who was the Secretary of Finance at the time. And he said to me ‘Come along, crown prince. It’s time you learned how the Treasury works.’ So I got in and he took me to his office and kept me there until suppertime, explaining exactly what it was he did and a very broad overview of how the Treasury works. Then he sent me home and told me he’d see me in a week or two. The next day, the Secretary of Foreign Affairs picked me up and did the same thing. After I’d cycled through the whole cabinet the Finance Secretary was back and this time he dropped me off with one of his undersecretaries.
“It kept going more or less until I went to university. Four days per week, I would go to a government agency after school and sometimes the secretary would take me to a meeting or something, but most of the time I was babysat by a civil servant who would talk to me about their job and tell me what they thought the future king should know. Some people were awkward and uncomfortable with it, but most people were enthusiastic. It was the best education I could have asked for.”
“That’s incredible!” Nate enthused. “Did the ministers just take it upon themselves to educate you?”
“For a time I assumed my father had directed them, but apparently he knew nothing about it for years,” Lawrence said flatly.
Nate felt a lump in his throat at the thought of Lawrence believing that his father had done something kind for him, only to realize it wasn’t the case.
“The king’s personal assistant realized that, based on the king’s schedule, he couldn’t be spending much time with the prince,” Mrs. Hubbert was saying. “The assistant came to me, and I confirmed that the king really only spent time with him at formal events.”
“The monarch is supposed to teach their heir to govern,” Lawrence said in the same flat tone. “If they don’t, then we might as well pick someone at random to take the throne when the monarch dies. When the assistant realized that wasn’t happening, he went to the Secretary of Finance, who talked to the rest of the cabinet.” He sighed and smiled a little. “I’m grateful to the entire cabinet. They all helped me with the vote on dissolving the regency and many of them stayed in their posts through the regency and for at least the first year of my reign.”
Nate frowned, trying again to remember recent Mirokanian history. He knew that the old king had died when Lawrence was a teenager and there had been regents in charge until Lawrence was coronated. “The vote to dissolve the regency? Didn’t it dissolve when you graduated from university?”
Lawrence nodded. “But many people wanted it to dissolve when I turned 18 and have me take the throne. I had to lobby Parliament to let me go to university instead. In the end Parliament voted to keep the regency in place until I turned 22 or until I graduated, whatever came first. I had to promise that I would do my best to graduate in three years and participate in meetings with the cabinet and the regents regularly.”
“The regents were very unpopular,” Mrs. Hubbert told Nate, “and the people wanted their king.”
“I wasn’t ready,” Lawrence said firmly, eyes on Mrs. Hubbert. “The entire cabinet agreed with me that I should continue my education. If I’d taken the throne that young it would have been a disaster.”
Mrs. Hubbert opened her mouth and closed it again, pressing her lips together.
This was clearly an argument they’d had before, and Nate decided to steer them back to safer waters.
“It all seems to have worked out well,” he said with a bright smile. “Do you have other children, Mrs. Hubbert?”
~*~
Please continue reading Chapter 2 in a reblog.
#kerwyn's writing#belly kink#belly rubs#caretaking#indigestion#stuffing#weight gain kink#burping#the king of mirokan
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✨This post is from a belly kink blog. If that’s not your thing please keep scrolling.✨
I was having Good Omens thoughts inspired by the ox scene. So I turned to ao3 and was not disappointed. Among other good stuff there was this fic.
And now I’m obsessed with the idea of Crowley turning into a snake and cuddling Aziraphale’s overfull belly. So…
Aziraphale leaned back in his seat, hands roaming his distended belly. He had unbuttoned his waistcoat some time ago and had miracled his shirt to stretch. But even with the addition of supernatural elasticity, it was pulling tight across his middle.
“Oh my.” Aziraphale’s voice was breathy, with a hint of the groan he was holding back. His stomach gave an unpleasant gurgle and he hiccuped. “Excuse me. I do believe I’ve eaten a bit too much.” Fortunately he knew just what would help him feel better.
Aziraphale looked up at where Crowley was sitting nearby, wine glass dangling from his long fingers and a laconic smile on his lips. Crowley’s sunglasses had been set aside hours ago and his yellow eyes were fixed on Aziraphale’s belly.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, drawing the demon’s attention up to his face, “would you do the thing?”
Crowley’s smile widened. “What thing, angel?”
Oh, he was playing dumb? Well, Aziraphale knew how to handle that too. He put on his sweetest pout and arched his back a little, pushing his rounded belly out. “You know,” he said with just a hint of a whine in his voice. “Help my tummy. It’s your fault I’m so very full.”
“My fault, eh?” Crowley stood, all serpentine grace, and sauntered over to join Aziraphale on the sofa.
“Yes,” Aziraphale pouted. “You tempted me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, angel.” Crowley placed his hand on Aziraphale’s swollen belly. “I think mossst of thisss was all you.”
Aziraphale managed to keep his smirk internal: the sibilance in Crowley’s voice indicated that he was about to get what he wanted.
Crowley began rubbing Aziraphale’s belly and it felt absolutely lovely.
“You’re ssssssso warm,” Crowley breathed.
Aziraphale luxuriated in the feeling of Crowley’s hands soothing the tightness and grumbling of his stomach for a few minutes, then ran his hand up Crowley’s arm.
“Wouldn’t you like to get closer, dear?” he asked quietly.
“Yesssss.” Crowley was already morphing: skin darkening to black scales, arms and legs disappearing into his sides. Aziraphale quickly unbuttoned and opened his shirt, baring the taut skin.
And then a three-foot-long python was slithering up his side and onto his belly. The snake’s cool body encircled the rounded mass, and his movement and weight worked as an incredibly effective belly rub.
Aziraphale belched and excused himself, then let his head fall back as he enjoyed the feeling of Crowley on his belly. The massage of Crowley’s movements, the weight of the enormous amount of food inside him, the wine he had consumed (not nearly as much as Crowley, he’d been too busy eating, but it was having an effect all the same), all combined to lull him into a stupor. He belched again, and the tightness in his belly was noticeably reduced. Aziraphale groaned in pleasure and relief. “Thank you, my dear boy,” he mumbled sleepily.
The snake stilled, but remained curled on his belly and Aziraphale stroked the smooth scales of his head for a few minutes before reaching over to pull a throw blanket over them both. He encircled Crowley in his arms and fell asleep.
#good omens#aziracrow#belly kink#belly rubs#sort of#snake variety#snake crowley#aziraphale#crowley#stuffing#kerwyn's writing#might add to this and put it on ao3
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The Rite of the Seven Glasses
A Belly Kink Fic by Kerwynlar
New installment in the King of Mirokan series, following The Sensation of Your Hands on Me and A Contrivance. Neither prior story is required reading.
In an act of diplomacy, King Lawrence undertakes a foreign custom and ends up very, very drunk. Prince Consort Nathaniel is there to help with the aftermath.
Tags: alcohol, drinking & drunkenness, semi-graphic vomiting, burping, hiccups, slurring words, belly rubs, sickfic, hurt/comfort, caretaking, domestic fluff, modern royalty, a bit of in-universe politics/worldbuilding.
Note: As the tags say, there is vomiting in this story. I don't have a good enough sense of the norms to know whether this should be tagged as "graphic" or "emetophilia". If you're not interested in that, I've put an asterisk where it begins and ends so it's easy to skip. If you read it and have ideas about how I should be tagging it, please let me know.
~2,900 words
Read it below or on AO3.
~*~
Lawrence thunked the shot glass down on the table just as the burly man across from him did the same. The liquor burned down his throat and into his belly which was already sloshing with far more of the stuff than he ever intended to drink. Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to swallow all of it, then opened his mouth to gasp for breath but was interrupted by a loud hiccup.
“Ah hah!” his companion slapped his hands down on the table. “There you go, Your Majesty! The Rite of the Seven Glasses! Now we are truly friends!”
Lawrence’s head swam and he blinked slowly to bring the man - the Foreign Minister of a nation with whom Mirokan had a strained relationship - into focus. “Thank you, Minister.” Lawrence spoke slowly, focusing on not slurring his words. “It - HIC! - was an experience I won’t soon forget.”
“Yes, yes! Now I shall tell my President that King Lawrence of Mirokan is a truly honorable man. One who we can deal with and come to an understanding.”
Lawrence pushed himself to his feet, wobbling a little, and one of his aides stepped forward to put a steadying hand on his arm. “I’m very glad - HIC - to hear it, Minister.”
The minister put out his hand and Lawrence had to squint at it for a moment before he could line his own hand up to shake it. The minister laughed again and clapped Lawrence roughly on the arm. The momentum might have overbalanced Lawrence in his present condition if his aide hadn’t been steadying him.
“Next time, you shall meet with the President. We are friends now.” The minister let go of Lawrence’s hand, took a step backward and bowed. Lawrence managed to nod in return and thanked the man again.
The moment the door shut behind the minister, Lawrence sank back into his chair with a groan. The aide was saying something to him, but he was too focused on trying to loosen his tie with clumsy fingers to listen.
When Lawrence looked up again, the aide had been replaced by Solomon, his personal attendant.
“Your Majesty, may I take you back to the residence?”
Lawrence hiccuped while his sluggish brain worked through Solomon’s words. He frowned.
“Where’s Nth… Nath… Nthan… my husband?”
“I believe the prince consort is in the residence, Your Majesty.”
“I don’ wan you, Solmn. You’re… you’re not…” he waved his hand in what he thought was probably a dismissive gesture. “I wan my pretty husband. Makes me feel good.”
Nate hurried through the halls of the palace. The text he had received from Solomon had read: King requires you in the Blue Room. Please come at once.
He rounded a corner and almost collided with Solomon.
“Oh, Prince Consort, thank goodness! Please come with me.” Solomon turned and walked alongside Nate.
“Solomon, what is going on? Isn’t the king having dinner with the minister from Elendria?”
It seemed impossible that Lawrence was having digestive issues: the kitchen would have made absolutely certain that everything they served was safe for his stomach when he was engaged in diplomacy.
“That was the plan,” Solomon said. “But the minister refused food, and insisted that to create friendship between Elendria and Mirokan, he and the king had to engage in the Rite of the Seven Glasses.”
Nate nearly stopped walking. “Isn’t that the thing where you take seven shots of Elendrian liquor?”
“Yes.”
“And Lawrence did that?”
“Yes. On an empty stomach. His Majesty is quite intoxicated.”
“Shit.” Nate walked faster. “I’ve never seen him drink liquor. Can his stomach handle it?”
“I’m not sure anyone’s stomach could easily handle that much in that short amount of time with no food - well, no one who’s not Elendrian - but no, His Majesty rarely drinks liquor. He prefers wine in part because it is less likely to upset his stomach.”
“Do you think he needs to eat?” Nate asked. Solomon had worked for Lawrence for years. Nate had only been married to him for eight months.
“He probably needs to eat something and I’m having some fresh bread sent up. But honestly it may help if he vomits first.”
Nate nodded. “I��ll see what I can do.” Another thought occurred. “Did it work?”
“Did what work, sir?”
“Doing the Rite with the minister. Did it achieve what Lawrence wanted when he agreed to do it?”
“Oh!” Solomon brightened. “Yes, rather spectacularly. I understand that the minister appears to have been favorably impressed. He even stated that his majesty’s next meeting would be with the President of Elendria.”
Nate grinned as they reached the door to the Blue Room. Lawrence was brilliant as always, even if he was suffering for it now.
Solomon held the door open for him. “Please let me know if you need anything.”
Nate entered the room to see Lawrence sprawled across a sofa. He had never witnessed the king in this state of disarray: Lawrence’s hair was mussed, his tie hanging loose, his jacket and waistcoat crumpled on the floor, and - most notably - his shirt and trousers hanging open with his swollen belly protruding out. There had been no question in Nate’s mind that Lawrence would be incredibly drunk, but seeing the normally prim and proper king so very undone was something else.
“Hey there, love,” he said gently as he approached.
Lawrence turned unfocused eyes to him and gave him a bleary smile. “Nath… Nathanull - HIC! ‘S my pretty husban. C’mere pretty hus- HIC!”
Nate choked back a chuckle. Lawrence slurring was a revelation. He sank to his knees beside the sofa. “I hear you completed the Rite of the Seven Glasses.”
“HILK! Yep,” Lawrence said, popping the p. “The minis… minster said we’re - HIC - frienz now. Gonna… gonna meet the… the thingy. Urf. Prez. Prezdent nes time. HIC!”
Nat shook his head. “You’re incredible, Lawrence. How are you feeling?”
“‘M verr verr verr verrrrry … um. Drunk. Verr drunk. ‘N my stom… HIC! My belly dint like… not happy. Oof.” Lawrence put his hand on his bloated belly and groaned.
Nate placed his hand beside Lawrence’s. “Poor belly. I tried to do the Rite of the Seven Glasses with some Elendrian friends when I was a teenager. I made it to five before I threw up. I can’t believe you completed it.”
Lawrence groaned again. “Throwin’ up sounds verrr nice. My belly’s all blurglewurgle. ‘S not good. An it’s HIC ‘s … too big. Not nice n fat. Bloated. ‘N it hurts. ‘S sloshy. Don’ like it.”
Nate rubbed a circle over the tight skin of Lawrence’s belly. “Bloated and blurglewurgle huh?” Nate couldn’t help his smile. “Let’s get you into the bathroom and we’ll see about throwing up then, okay?”
Lawrence hiccuped again and nodded.
Nate wrapped an arm around his back and helped him sit up, bringing his feet to the floor. Lawrence blinked slowly, clearly dizzy from the movement. He opened his mouth as if to say something but a huge belch came out instead. Lawrence closed his eyes and moaned. “Nathn … don’ feel so good.”
“Yeah, love.” Nate rubbed Lawrence’s back. “Blurglewurgle right?”
*
“No, I- uuuoouurrrp. Room’s spinning. Feel sick.” He groaned and belched again. “Mm not good.”
“Okay, love, just breathe.”
“Rooms too spinny,” Lawrence moaned. “Ohh my belly. I don’t… ugh. Uuuurrrrrrrp. Feel so sick.”
“Lawrence,” Nate said firmly, trying to hold his attention. “Do you think you can stand up? I’ll help you. We need to get you into the bathroom.”
“Uuuuoorrrrp. I don’ … ‘m really - uurrp - really bad.”
“I know, love, that’s why we need to get you to the bathroom, so you can throw up.”
“Need to throw up,” Lawrence moaned. “So sick. My belly is really sick. Buuurrp.”
Nate grimaced. “You’re not going to make it to the bathroom, are you?”
Lawrence had gone very pale and was swallowing repeatedly. “Ohhh oh no. Don’ think I can… hold it.” He gave a wet-sounding belch and clasped his hand over his mouth.
Nate looked around and to his relief saw a clean trash can with plastic liner sitting just inside the door he had come through. Bless Solomon, he must have put it inside while Nate was distracted with Lawrence. Nate registered that there was a large pitcher of water and a glass, as well as a loaf of bread on the table by the door. Nate quickly grabbed the trash can and brought it back to Lawrence.
Lawrence took the can and leaned forward, producing a series of sickly belches, but no vomit. He groaned and wiped his eyes.
Nate moved to sit beside him on the couch and rubbed his back. “Let it out, love. You’ll feel so much better with all that liquor out of your stomach.”
“I want to but-” Lawrence was interrupted by a cough that turned into a retch, then dry heaving and belching, but still no vomit.
“Feel so sick,” Lawrence groaned. “Ugh why won’ it come out?” He sat up, then leaned back against the couch, pawing at his exposed belly. “Nathn… my belly hurts. Feels so bad.”
Nate reached over and spread his palm over Lawrence’s belly. Lawrence groaned and pushed his hand on top of Nate’s, pressing firmly against his skin. Lawrence belched, then sat up again. He pressed Nate’s hand harder into his belly.
Nate frowned. “You want me to push on your belly? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Won’t. Please.” Lawrence gave him a miserable look. “Need to throw up.”
“Okay.” Nate sighed.
Lawrence leaned forward and Nate pressed into his bloated belly. Lawrence belched and coughed, then spit into the can. “More,” he gasped out.
Nate pushed harder, then suddenly felt Lawrence’s stomach muscles clench under his hand. Lawrence’s belch turned into a wet gasp and then vomit was pouring out of his mouth and into the can.
Nate looked away, not wanting to be sick himself. He started to pull his hand away, but between heaves Lawrence whimpered, and Nate stayed where he was. He kept one hand pressed against Lawrence’s belly and the other rubbing his back.
“There you go love,” he said soothingly. “There you go. You’ll feel so much better.”
Lawrence spit into the can a few times, then put it down on the floor, gasping for breath.
Nate reached into the pocket of Lawrence’s trousers and pulled out the handkerchief he knew his husband always carried. Nate gently wiped Lawrence’s eyes, then his nose and mouth.
“Are you ready for some water?” he asked.
Lawrence shook his head. “‘M not… not done. Will you… my belly.”
“Yeah, love.” Nate rubbed his hand over Lawrence’s belly, clearly feeling the churning within.
Lawrence let out a deep burp, then leaned forward and picked up the trash can again, its contents reeking of liquor.
Nate took that as his cue, and pushed hard against Lawrence’s stomach again. Once again, he felt Lawrence’s stomach muscles tense and then he was vomiting.
It ended more quickly this time, and Lawrence put the can down an arms length away. “Please,” he gasped out, “I don’t want to smell it.”
Nate understood completely. He took the can, careful not to look inside, and carried it into the bathroom, leaving it by the toilet.
*
He grabbed the pitcher and glass on his way back to the couch where Lawrence was huddled miserably, arms wrapped around his middle. Nate poured a glass of water and held it out to him. Lawrence looked up at him, eyes red and wet, and took the water, one arm still holding himself. Lawrence took a careful sip and swished it around his mouth then swallowed. He closed his eyes and Nate guessed that his throat was likely pretty raw. Nate set the pitcher aside and sat back down beside Lawrence, draping an arm around his shoulders. Lawrence leaned into his side and took another sip of water.
“‘M sorry,” Lawrence mumbled. He coughed then burped. “‘M so sorry.”
“Shh.” Nate pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“You didn’t - mmf - you didn’t need to see me vomit.”
“Lawrence, we’ve been over this. You don’t need to be embarrassed about this kind of thing with me.” Nate pulled him closer and kissed his hair again. “I’m very glad that alcohol is out of you instead of in you, and by putting it in you, you seem to have managed to thaw relations with Elendria of all places, which is something that I would have sworn was impossible two years ago.” Nate gave him a squeeze. “You’re a wonder, Lawrence. And if you need some help to recover from being a wonder, then I consider it an honor and a pleasure to be the one to help you.”
“Marryin you was a good thing, Nath- Nathn…” Lawrence paused to frown. “Why’s your name so hard to say when ‘m drunk?”
Nate chuckled. “You know, my friends from home all call me Nate. I love that you call me Nathaniel, it sounds especially good in your accent, but you can certainly go with the shorter version in your state.”
Lawrence considered this. “Mm. Nate.” He took another sip of water, then turned his head away to give a quiet but deep burp. “Thank you, Nate. For helping me.”
Nate kissed the side of his head again. “How are you feeling now?”
Lawrence blinked. “‘M still drunk. But maybe… maybe a lil clearer.”
Nate nodded. “You still have to process what’s in your bloodstream, but now you don’t have all that sloshing around in your belly. How’s your stomach?”
Lawrence burped again. “‘M not gonna throw up again but it still feels bad. Queasy. ‘N ‘m still bloated.”
“It might help to eat something,” Nate suggested.
Lawrence groaned then leaned back against the couch, showing his still-swollen belly. “Too bloated.”
Lawrence’s pants and shirt were still open and his belly looked so exposed. Nate could just imagine how uncomfortable it was. He gently placed his hand on it.
Lawrence squirmed a little under his touch. “Would you rub? Always feels nice when you rub my belly.”
With a smile, Nate shifted a little closer and brought both hands to the sides of Lawrence’s belly and began stroking gently.
Lawrence sighed and smiled, then closed his eyes and let his head fall back. “Mm, good,” he mumbled before covering his mouth to burp.
Nate alternated between stroking Lawrence’s sides and rubbing circles over the middle of his belly. When he felt gurgling in one spot he would focus his attention there, usually leading Lawrence to belch.
While Nate didn’t like when Lawrence was feeling unwell, he had come to truly enjoy helping him with his rowdy stomach. Lawrence worked so hard all the time, governing his kingdom with a steady hand. And while Nate eagerly (and skillfully, if he wasn’t being too modest) engaged in diplomatic interactions as well as charitable work, he often felt a bit like an afterthought. But helping Lawrence when he wasn’t feeling well was both incredibly intimate and felt like something concrete and meaningful he could do.
He leaned forward to kiss Lawrence’s belly. He knew it wouldn’t really get better until the rest of the alcohol had left Lawrence’s system but it seemed a little less tight than it had been and Lawrence was comfortable enough to have dozed off.
“Lawrence,” he said quietly. When he got no response, he reached up to brush his fingers across Lawrence’s cheek. “Come on, love. You’ll regret it if you sleep in this position for too long, and I think your stomach will thank you if you get some solid food into it.”
Lawrence stirred and roused. “Mm.” He blinked and rubbed his eyes then patted his belly. “‘S better.”
Nate smiled broadly. “I’m glad. Solomon left some fresh bread. Can I get you some of that?”
Lawrence looked at him sleepily. “You’re so pretty, Nathnull. Nathan… Nate. So good.”
“Thanks, love,” Nate chuckled.
“Mm. Wanna make you feel good too.” He reached out to grab Nate’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss.
Nate gladly kissed him, despite the fact that he still reeked of liquor, but then pulled away. “Are you propositioning me, Your Majesty?”
“Do you wan be propos…zshnd?”
Nate laughed. “Aw, sweetheart, you know I love it when you scream my name during sex. Right now you’re too drunk to even say it. Let’s save it for when you’re sober.”
Lawrence pouted, and Nate thought it was likely the most adorable thing he had ever seen. “‘S cause I threw up in front of you, isn’t it?”
“No, love,” Nate said firmly. “It’s because you’re still drunk enough to be slurring your words, and you need to eat something.” He leaned in to kiss him again. “I’ll be making love to you the moment you sober up. And get over the hangover.”
“Promise?” Lawrence asked, still pouting.
“Promise,” Nate said. He kissed Lawrence’s nose, then sat back. “I’m going to get you that bread and text Solomon to ask him to bring you some sweatpants so you don’t have to try to get that suit back on.”
Nate pulled his phone out of his pocket and had started composing the text when Lawrence spoke up again.
“Nathnull… Nate.”
Nate grinned, but didn’t look up from his phone. “Yeah, love?”
“Knew I could do it ‘cause of you.”
Nate did look at Lawrence, then, to see the king peering back at him.
“The Rite,” Lawrence continued. “I knew-” he interrupted himself with a yawn. “Knew no matter what happened, you’d take care of me. ‘S the only thing - only thing that gave me … made me think I could do it.”
Nate leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “Always, love.”
#kerwyn's writing#belly kink#belly rubs#caretaking#sickfic#burping#alcholol#drunkenness#vomiting#hiccups#slurring words#caretaking kink#sick kink#the king of mirokan
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A Contrivance
A Belly Kink Fic by Kerwynlar
Follow up to The Sensation of Your Hands on Me (which is not required reading but does introduce the characters).
Prince Consort Nathaniel has to think fast when King Lawrence isn't feeling well at a public appearance.
Tags: Sickfic, Belly rubs, belly kink, indigestion, burping (lots), hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, established relationship, brief mention of weight gain as a positive, modern royalty
2,000 words
Read it below the cut or on AO3.
~*~
King Lawrence of Mirokan shoved his hands into his trouser pockets to keep from gripping his belly. His stomach hurt and his clothing was too tight across his middle. Lawrence tried to focus on the hospital administrator who was giving him and his husband Nathaniel, along with a group of board members and other bigwigs, a tour of a new wing.
His stomach gave a loud gurgle. Lawrence didn’t think anyone else noticed, but Nathaniel glanced at him and placed a hand on his back as they were walking. Lawrence longed for Nathaniel’s hands on his front, instead. He’d had indigestion a few times in the three months since Nathaniel had given him a belly rub in the back of a limousine. Each time Nathaniel had been a balm: encouraging Lawrence to rest, getting him medicine, convincing him to unfasten restrictive clothing, and giving the most soothing, heavenly belly rubs. Nathaniel’s ministrations were so pleasant that once or twice Lawrence had considered faking illness or purposely eating something he knew would upset his stomach just for an excuse to have Nathaniel soothe and care for him.
He desperately wanted Nathaniel’s help now, as he focused on keeping his expression neutral while a cramp built in his gut. But that wouldn’t happen for a while. After the tour he and Nathaniel were scheduled to visit some of the hospital’s patients. Lawrence had been looking forward to those visits: the business of governance so rarely left him time to interact with regular Mirokanians, and it had always been something he enjoyed.
Interactions with his subjects were even more pleasant with Nathaniel. Their marriage was very popular and people seemed particularly charmed - appropriately, Lawrence thought - by Nathaniel. People liked seeing them together and Lawrence was more than happy to oblige.
But with his stomach sore and bloated, churning with indigestion, even the prospect of that pleasant duty was extremely daunting.
Beside him, Nathaniel pulled his phone out of his pocket and appeared to be sending a text. Lawrence glanced around to be sure no one was watching. They weren’t, but he still couldn’t stop his frown. He didn’t think of himself as a jealous man, but he was curious about who his husband was texting when they were in public.
Nathaniel pocketed the phone again and gave him a handsome smile. Lawrence would have returned the smile but was forced to cover his mouth in a contrived gesture to hide his slow exhale which otherwise should have been a deep burp.
A moment later, one of his aides came hurrying up to him.
“Your Majesty, I’m so sorry to interrupt. Excuse me, Administrator.”
Lawrence and everyone else on the tour turned to her. “Yes, Ms. Kelling?”
“Your Majesty, there is an urgent phone call that requires your immediate attention.”
Lawrence felt his shoulders tense immediately. There were a few potential crises that came to mind but there was no use speculating. He took a breath and turned to the administrator. “I’m terribly sorry, Administrator. Is there somewhere I can take a private call?”
“Oh, um. Yes, Your Majesty. The doctors have a meeting room on the floor above. You can use that.”
“Thank you, I’m grateful.” He gave her a tense smile and turned to Nathaniel. “You’ll stay with the tour and I’ll rejoin you as soon as I can?”
“Um,” Ms. Kelling said, drawing his attention back to her. “It would probably be best if the Prince Consort joins you, Your Majesty.”
That was odd, and the oddity was compounded by her awkwardness. Perhaps the crisis was something in Nathaniel’s homeland?
“Very well.”
It was decided that the other bigwigs would wait while the Administrator showed Lawrence and his retinue to the meeting room and then would continue the tour without them.
The brisk walk, even with the pause of the elevator ride, had done Lawrence’s aching stomach no favors, but this was not the time for self-pity he sternly told himself.
At least as the door to the meeting room clicked shut he felt like he could finally press a hand to his belly. All of his staff knew about his digestive difficulties and Ms. Kelling was no exception.
“What’s going on, Sophia?” he asked her as he unbuttoned his suit jacket to give himself more access to his belly. If he didn’t have to be on video he would probably unbutton his straining waistcoat as well.
“Oh, there’s no emergency, Your Majesty,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “The Prince Consort just told me that you needed a break, so I contrived something.”
Lawrence turned to Nathaniel, bewildered. “What?”
Nathaniel, who was going to the sideboard where there were bottles of water, glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “I could tell you weren’t feeling well, so I texted Sophia for help.”
“Just let me know when you’re ready?” Ms. Kelling asked, looking between the two of them.
“How long - uurrrp, oh, excuse me - how long do we have before we’re supposed to start visiting the patients?”
Ms. Kelling consulted her phone. “After the tour the two of you are scheduled for a private conversation with the Administrator. We believe she’s going to ask the Prince Consort to join the hospital’s board of trustees, and after that you’re seeing the patients. About half an hour total.”
Lawrence let himself sink into a chair, one hand cradling his belly. “Alright. Please find a time for the Administrator to come to the palace for a meeting. I should be ready in half an hour.”
“Very good, Your Majesty. I’ll text the Prince Consort a five minute warning, and please let me know if you need more time. We can probably shift some of your schedule this afternoon.”
Lawrence stifled a burp with a fist over his mouth. “Excuse me. Thank you, Sophia.”
She bowed to him and left the room.
Nathaniel, now standing beside him, took a small pillbox out of the inner pocket in his jacket. “Two?” he asked, opening it.
Lawrence pressed his hands to his belly and let out the miserable groan he had been holding in. “Three, please,” he managed.
Nathaniel’s forehead creased with worry. “Is it that bad?”
“It’s more that we’re on a deadline.” Lawrence held his hand out and Nathaniel put three pink pills on his palm and passed him an open bottle of water.
Lawrence swallowed the pills and gulped down the water, then gave a deep belch.
Nathaniel pulled a chair up beside Lawrence’s and started unbuttoning Lawrence’s waistcoat, shirt, and trousers. Lawrence wasn’t terribly bloated, but it still felt nice to free his sensitive belly from its restrictive confines.
And then Nathaniel’s hands were on him, and Lawrence relaxed back into the chair with a sigh. Nathaniel pressed against Lawrence’s stomach, firmly but not hard enough to make the pain worse, and Lawrence belched again, immediately beginning to feel some relief.
Lawrence studied his husband’s handsome face, currently creased in a frown of concentration as he worked at rubbing circles over Lawrence’s churning stomach. Lawrence reached out to stroke Nathaniel’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You’re wonderful.”
Nathaniel looked up at him with a grin. “So I’ve been told.”
Lawrence looked around the room. “This feels a bit ex- uuurrrp, excuse me - a bit exposed. You’ve only done this at home or in the car.”
“Seth and Reggie are on the door,” Nathaniel said, referring to Lawrence’s two primary bodyguards. “They won’t let anyone in.”
Lawrence nodded, then closed his eyes with a sigh as Nathaniel started rubbing his sides.
“Are you going to have my staff - uurrrp - manufacture an international incident every time I’m not feeling well?” Lawrence asked after a minute.
Nathaniel shrugged and smiled up at him again. “You’re not usually faced with hours in public after eating something that disagrees with you. When this has happened before we’ve either been at home or heading there. And it wasn’t necessarily an international incident. Just something urgent.”
“Well, I am very grateful for your ingenuity. And Sophia’s.”
“I’m always happy to help, you know that.” Nathaniel said, cheeks turning a bit pink. “And Sophia adores you, just like everyone else who works for you.”
Lawrence rubbed his hand along the bottom of his belly. He already felt a little less bloated, but there was still a curve. He was definitely putting on some weight. For the first time in his life, the consequences of eating something that disagreed with him felt less dire, since he knew he would be comforted and helped. As a result he was less worried about eating, and had started eating more. He was still slender, but his middle was not as flat as it had once been. Lawrence smiled at the thought that he may need to have his suits let out soon.
“What do you think set you off today?” Nathaniel asked.
Lawrence felt a belch building in his chest, and waited until it had come out to respond. “Excuse me. Onions in the sauce, I think.”
Nathaniel frowned. “But onions are on your ‘no list’ and I didn’t think I tasted them.”
“I think people don’t always realize that the ‘no list’ means not even any cooked into something as an ingredient. It was subtle, but there.”
“Hm. I’ll talk to Solomon about how the ‘no list’ is phrased.”
“Thank you,” Lawrence said, and reached out to caress Nathaniel’s cheek again. He sighed and shifted in his seat, bringing a different part of his belly to Nathaniel’s attention. “Do you want to be on the hospital’s board - buuuurrp - of trustees?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Nathaniel said. “What do you think? You’ve been keeping me around more lately. And I like that.”
It was true. Lawrence was having his staff schedule Nathaniel to accompany him to more and more events, especially those outside the palace. The current situation was a perfect proof of concept: Lawrence appreciated having Nathaniel around if he started feeling ill. But he also just enjoyed Nathaniel’s presence more generally. Nathaniel was good company and excellent at putting people - including Lawrence - at their ease.
“I certainly enjoy having you accompany me in public,” Lawrence told him. “But I - uuurrpp - want you to be able to take advantage of opportunities that interest you.”
Lawrence’s gut grumbled and Nathaniel swept his thumb firmly over the noisy spot. The sensation was painful at first and Lawrence grunted, but it quickly eased under Nathaniel’s hand.
“I’m sure your staff could work board meetings into their scheduling. There can’t be that many of them, I’m sure those can coincide with days when you’re mostly at the palace.”
Lawrence hummed in agreement, then let his head sink back and closed his eyes.
On the table beside them, Nathaniel’s phone buzzed with a new text message. Nathaniel glanced at it. “That’s Sophia’s five minute warning. Should I tell her we need more time?”
“No.” Lawrence forced himself to sit up. “I feel much better. Having you keep going this long was pure indulgence on my part.”
Nathaniel smiled, and started rebuttoning his shirt. “That’s a good indulgence.”
“You don’t feel like I’ve taken advantage of you?” Lawrence asked as he watched Nathaniel’s strong fingers move delicately over his buttons.
Nathaniel shook his head quickly. “Not at all. I love doing this. If anything it’s an indulgence for me too.”
Lawrence caught Nathaniel’s hand as it did the last button of his waistcoat and brought it to his lips to kiss, then he stood, bringing Nathaniel to his feet too. “Sometimes I can’t believe my luck with you,” he murmured, pulling Nathaniel closer.
“I love you,” Nathaniel whispered against his lips, and then they were kissing.
When they parted, Nathaniel helped him tuck in his shirt and refasten his trousers. Lawrence took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his middle, feeling only softness, not bloating or pain. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Nathaniel took his hand. “Shall we go make some other people feel better?”
Lawrence nodded, and together they went about their day.
~*~
Thank you for reading!
#kerwyn's writing#belly kink#belly rubs#sickfic#indigestion#burping#caretaking#hurt/comfort#domestic fluff#the king of mirokan
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Made Manifest ~ A Dreamling Mpreg ficlet
Fandom: The Sandman
Pairing: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling
Tags: mpreg, accidental/unexpected (but not unwelcome) pregnancy, magical (sort of?) pregnancy, established relationship Dreamling, fluff
Word count: 651
Summary: Hob’s dream has a surprising, but very welcome, result.
~~~~
Dream was in the midst of constructing a convoluted nightmare when he felt the pressure of Hob’s dream in his pelvis. He pressed his palm to his abdomen with a surprised smile, then let his consciousness flow through the Dreaming for a moment, before focusing intently on his aspect. Dream’s smile brightened and he stood very still for several minutes before returning to his work, one hand remaining fixed to his belly. By the time the nightmare was completed, there was a distinct bulge under Dream’s hand.
Hob woke to see Dream in bed beside him. He smiled and gave a sleepy grunt as he pulled Dream into his arms and closed his eyes again. Hob kissed Dream’s nape.
“Nightmare done?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Missed you.”
“You dreamed of me.”
“Couldn’t help it. Was a nice dream. Hope it didn’t distract you.”
“What was the dream, Hob?”
“Mm, it was about raising a kid together. All warm and domestic.”
“Perhaps my child specifically?”
Hob smiled, remembering. “Yeah. Looked like you. And had powers.”
“Hm.” Dream grasped Hob’s wrist and moved his hand down to rest on Dream’s belly.
Hob frowned. Belly? In all his forms Dream was always thin but Hob felt a distinctly rounded shape under his hand. He was suddenly wide awake and sat up to look at Dream who was smiling at him beatifically.
“That was a very potent dream, my love.”
Hob raised his hand and Dream pulled up the hem of his shirt to reveal a soft curve. It could, in theory, be the result of eating a very large meal but Dream rarely ate…
“Dream, what am I looking at?” he asked gently.
“You are looking,” Dream said, “at my pregnant belly.”
“You’re pregnant,” Hob breathed. “You’re really pregnant?”
Dream cradled the small bump with both hands. “I am really pregnant.”
“With… with a dream?”
Dream frowned, thoughtfully. “Not just a dream. A baby. Well, a collection of cells that will develop into a baby. It is your child, and mine: part human, part Endless.”
Hob reverently placed his hand between Dream’s on his belly. “But how? Because I had one dream?”
“The Dreaming combined your dream with… something that I wanted very much. This happened when your desire matched my own, and so was made manifest.”
Hob’s eyes filled with tears and he scooped Dream up in his arms, pressing him to his chest. “Oh, Dream!”
“You are pleased then?” Dream asked quietly from inside Hob’s embrace.
“Pleased?” Hob pulled back to meet Dream’s eyes. “We’re going to have a baby! I’m thrilled, you mad creature!”
Hob kissed him then, long and slow, and laid them both down on the bed.
“How do you feel?” Hob asked eventually, his body curled around Dream’s back and hand cradling his belly.
Dream considered the question. “I feel well, if a bit… delicate.”
“Delicate?”
“I am used - as you know - to changing my physical manifestation as suits my whim. But now… my body must maintain certain structures to nourish our child. My form must be… this. It is a… vulnerable feeling.”
Hob hugged Dream tighter against him. “Whatever you need, whatever you want through this, just say the word. I want to take care of you.”
“Mm. At the moment I want you to hold me for a while longer.”
“Then our desires are matching again.” Hob kissed the wild black hair. “Have you done this before?” he asked after a moment.
“Been pregnant?”
“Mmhm.”
“No. Calliope carried Orpheus. In my many eons of life this is… new.”
“Will it be nine months? You look further along than like you just conceived.”
“I… do not know. I suspect that using human pregnancy as a guide will have limited utility.”
Hob hugged him closer. “Well, we’ll just have to figure it out together.”
Dream brought one of Hob’s hands to his lips. “I like the sound of that.”
~~~~
Thanks for reading. I’d love to write more one shots in this universe. I have a couple ideas, but I’ll also accept prompts. No angst or dark stuff, please, but hurt/comfort is ok. I plan to keep it really fluffy.
#mpreg#dreamling#the sandman#kerwyn's writing#pregnancy kink#mpreg kink#dream of the endless#hob gadling#the sandman netflix
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The Least of What I Would Do For You
A King of Mirokan story by Kerwynlar
Nate gets a headache at a public function and Lawrence makes sure he's taken care of.
Tags: Domestic fluff, slice of life, headache, caretaking, character study, relationship study, very brief mention of weight gain as a positive, so much fluff.
Note: If you're new to the series only the first story, The Sensation of Your Hands on Me, is required reading.
Flipping the script a bit for this one and having Lawrence take care of Nate. Wanted to give a little glimpse of Lawrence interacting with people who are not Nate and doing some king stuff. Plus Lawrence being a bit more dominating. Very subtle D/s dynamic that probably only comes through if you've read A Filling End to the Day, and know what it means when Lawrence calls Nate "sweetheart."
1,507 words
Read it below or on ao3.
~*~
“Unfortunately, I don’t agree with you, minister,” Lawrence said coolly, “and what’s more I doubt you even have the support of the majority of your committee, much less a majority of Parliament.”
“Oh, but your majesty!” Minister Eckles spluttered.
“Always a pleasure speaking with you, minister.” Lawrence gave a minuscule smile. “Have a good evening.”
Though there was no possibility of mistaking Lawrence’s intent, Minister Eckles hesitated for a moment, mouth open, before pulling himself together and bowing. Lawrence acknowledged him with a nod and the minister took himself away.
Lawrence turned to his aide, Renee, who was standing off to the side. “Raising the fuel tax again? That was what I needed to speak with him about?”
Renee grimaced. “I apologize, your majesty. Minister Eckles told me that he wanted to discuss transportation policy with you. If I had known what his real aim was I never would have added him to your list.”
“It’s not your fault, Renee,” Lawrence said firmly. “But the next time he wants an audience you’ll dig deeper into his purpose.”
From across the room, Nathaniel’s bright smile caught Lawrence’s eye and he couldn’t help but smile himself. While Renee assured him that she would probe deeper into ministers’ requests to meet with him, Lawrence watched Nathaniel and his smile faded. The set of Nathaniel’s shoulders was oddly stiff, and there was tension in his face.
“Shall I bring the next minister, your majesty?” Renee was asking him.
Nathaniel must have sensed Lawrence watching him, because he looked around and their eyes met. Nathaniel smiled warmly.
“Give me a few minutes,” Lawrence told Renee. Holding Nathaniel’s gaze, Lawrence inclined his head to the side.
Nathaniel’s smile broadened and he touched his conversation partner’s arm to interrupt her, then said something, gesturing to Lawrence. Having excused himself from the conversation, Nathaniel headed for Lawrence. As he got near, Lawrence held his hand out to him. Nathaniel took it and Lawrence kissed the back of Nathaniel’s hand then gently pulled him closer.
“May I kiss you?” Nathaniel murmured so only Lawrence could hear.
The attendees at the cocktail reception were giving Lawrence a respectful amount of space and only approaching him when summoned by Renee, but many eyes were on him, especially now that Nathaniel had joined him. At the beginning of their marriage, they had been cautious about public displays of affection. While they had become much more relaxed about it, Lawrence appreciated Nathaniel checking. He nodded slightly and leaned in for a chaste kiss.
Lawrence stroked his thumb over Nathaniel’s cheekbone. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.
“Mmhm.” Nathaniel nodded.
Lawrence frowned and moved his hand to the back of Nathaniel’s neck. “I know something’s wrong, sweetheart. Tell me, please.”
Nathaniel sighed and his head drooped. “I just have a headache.” He looked up at Lawrence through his long lashes. “I’m really fine.”
Lawrence stroked his cheekbone again and kissed his forehead. “Why don’t you go home?”
“You have at least three more people you have to talk to and two others it would be good for you to give some attention to.”
Lawrence smiled. “You’re right of course. And while I always appreciate your insight from working the room at these events, it’s not strictly necessary if you’re not feeling well. Security can take you home and I’ll join you when I’m finished.”
“It’s just a headache, love. I’m fine.”
“I could tell from across the room that you weren’t fine, sweetheart.”
Nathaniel’s smile was beautiful. “You just know me too well.”
Lawrence pitched his voice just a little deeper. “Sweetheart.”
Nathaniel shivered. “Mm. I might not be fine enough to have you ‘sweetheart-ing’ me.”
“You take care of me all the time,” Lawrence continued quietly. “Let me take care of you for once.”
Nathaniel sighed and kissed his cheek. “Yes, your majesty.”
Lawrence smiled at him, then keeping his hand on Nathaniel’s back, turned to his bodyguard.
“Seth, the prince consort is going to return to the palace now and I’ll follow in an hour or so.”
“Of course, your majesty. I’ll have a car sent from the palace now.”
Lawrence frowned. “It will take at least twenty minutes for a car to get here from the palace and there’s a car here already.”
Seth looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, your majesty. Safety protocol states that your vehicle needs to be ready for you immediately in the event of an emergency. If you’re staying here, then so is the limo.”
“It’s fine, Lawrence,” Nathaniel said quietly. “I can wait for another car.”
Lawrence ignored that. “There are at least three vehicles in my motorcade. Surely one of them can be used to take the prince consort home.”
Seth appeared to be about to disagree.
“Seth,” Lawrence said firmly. “I am not asking. That is an order.”
Seth’s mouth snapped shut and he stood a little straighter. “Please allow me a few minutes to confer with the rest of the security detail, your majesty.”
Lawrence gestured permission and Seth bowed and stepped away. He tapped his earpiece and covered his mouth so that others would not be able to hear his conversation.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Nathaniel murmured, pulling himself against Lawrence’s side.
“Maybe not,” Lawrence acknowledged. “But it is the least of what I would do for you.”
-----
Nate was curled up in bed - technically Lawrence’s bed, but he had been sleeping there for many months - watching a Vyrian comedy on his laptop. The jokes wouldn’t have translated well into Mirokanian and it was making him a little homesick, though watching something in his native language was relaxing.
The door opened and Lawrence tentatively stuck his head in, then smiled and came the rest of the way into the room when he saw Nate was awake.
Nate paused the show. “Hi.”
“How are you feeling?” Lawrence crossed to the bed. He was holding something but Nate couldn’t see what.
“Better. I took some painkillers when I got home and they’re helping. Thank you again for the evacuation.”
“Of course.” Lawrence perched on the bed and nodded at the laptop. “You’re not working are you?”
“No,” Nate chuckled. “Watching trashy Vyrian TV.”
Lawrence smiled warmly. “Good. I brought you something.” He handed Nate a bowl with a spoon.
Nate gasped when he looked inside. “There was more of that mousse?” The previous week Nate had hosted a reception at the palace honoring school teachers and for dessert the kitchen had served a decadent chocolate mousse.
Lawrence nodded. “That’s the last of it. Enjoy, sweetheart, I’ll let you watch your show.”
Nate had already taken a bite of the rich chocolate confection and swallowed quickly. “Mm, no, stay!”
“You know my Vyrian is terrible,” Lawrence said with a grimace.
He wasn’t being modest: Lawrence could speak a few languages fluently but Vyrian was not one of them and his pronunciation was awful.
“I can finish this later!” Nate said quickly. “I’d rather be with you -“ he hesitated, “that is if you’re not busy.”
“Not at all,” Lawrence said, and kissed Nate’s forehead. “Let me just change.”
Nate watched a few more minutes of the show but put the laptop away when Lawrence returned to the bedroom, having traded his three-piece suit for pajamas.
When Lawrence had started gaining weight, Nate had convinced him to forgo silk pajama tops in favor of buttery soft t-shirts with a bit of stretch. They had the benefit of giving Nate easier access to Lawrence’s stomach if he was ill or stuffed, plus Nate adored the way the t-shirts hugged the curve of the pot belly Lawrence was developing.
Lawrence climbed into bed and Nate snuggled up beside him, bringing his bowl of mousse. He held up the spoon to Lawrence. “Do you want some of this?”
Lawrence shook his head. “No, you know what it will do to my stomach.” He patted his belly.
“Just a taste? It’s so good, and I’ll take care of you.”
Lawrence hugged him closer. “I know you would, sweetheart, but I’m taking care of you tonight, remember?”
Nate sighed happily and rubbed his cheek against Lawrence’s chest. “Well then you can entertain me by telling me about your evening. What did Minister Hornley want?”
Lawrence chuckled. “You don’t want to hear about that.”
“I do!” Nate insisted around a mouthful of mousse. “What in the years and years that we’ve known each other would make you think that I don’t find Mirokanian parliamentary politics entertaining? Especially the petty shit that I’m sure Hornley wanted to talk to you about.”
Lawrence laughed loudly and Nate delighted in the sight of his belly jiggling. When Lawrence had recovered, he tipped Nate’s chin up for a kiss.
“God, I love you,” he murmured.
“I love you too,” Nate said matter-of-factly. He gestured with his spoon. “Now. Petty political shit.”
Lawrence craned his neck to be able to kiss Nate’s cheek and whisper in his ear. “As you wish, my prince.”
Nate relaxed against Lawrence, and let his voice wash over him.
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omg hi i discovered your work via ao3 today and spent my morning reading all of ur original works so i just wanted to drop in to say that your writing is EXCELLENT and i love all of your ocs (particularly nate and lawrence 🥺idk if u have any more installments planned for them). anyway i hope you have a good day/night + know that u have yet another fan :D
(also ur note on one of those fics that was like 'i like my whumpees to be in positions of power idk what that says abt me'. i understand u wholeheartedly. impeccable vibes.)
What a lovely message to receive, anon! Thanks so much!
I write fan fiction on my main account and it’s always wonderful when people like my fic. But I have to say that it’s even a bit better when someone likes my OCs. Like those guys came from my brain! And you like them? Wow!
I am definitely not done being obsessed with Nate and Lawrence. I have a bunch of world and character building thoughts that I might just list out in a tumblr post (will link to it on ao3 too if I do) and I do have more ideas for them, including one that came to me today where I flip the whump script and give Nate a headache. Based on the headache I have barely been keeping at bay for the past few hours. Also, I got another anon ask about what Nate and Lawrence look like in my head, which I answered over here.
So do stay tuned! More to come. And if you have questions or ideas for any of my original stories, please send them my way! I can’t commit to writing specific prompts, but there’s always a possibility and I love to know what my readers are thinking!
Thanks again!
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The King’s Leave:
Mystrade Modern Royalty Arranged Marriage Mpreg Fic
King Mycroft's plans to conceal his pregnancy fail completely, but the time he must take away from active rule may just bring him closer to his arranged marriage husband, Prince Consort Gregory Lestrade.
#are people more likely to read this if I post the whole thing to tumblr?#mpreg#kerwyn's writing#mystrade#sickfic#whump#male pregnancy#morning sickness
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Fire Alarm by KerwynLar
A post-stuffing/belly kink/indigestion/caretaking fic
Cal has eaten a massive meal of his favorite filling foods with the intention of having a quiet night on the couch watching a movie marathon and enjoying the feeling of fullness. He's really comfortable and kind of zoned out, rubbing his belly which is rounded and heavy with the weight of the meal.
Everything is perfect until the fire alarm goes off.
Cal is pretty sure it’s a false alarm and doesn’t move. He’s too heavy and sleepy. But the minutes stretch on with the alarm continuing to squawk and Cal hears more and more people moving through the hall. With a heavy sigh, he struggles to his feet. Oh that doesn’t feel good. That lovely full feeling is very different when he’s standing up.
The sweatpants Cal’s wearing are fine, but the t-shirt is riding up over his swollen belly. Convenient for rubbing his belly but not so good for being around strangers. He moves to the dresser - urrgh walking is even worse than standing - and gets out his biggest sweatshirt. At least the weather is cool enough for it.
Cal is one of the last people to get out of the building and after walking down three flights of stairs he’s resolved that his next apartment will be on the ground floor. He clutches his belly through the sweatshirt as his stomach churns and cramps, not taking kindly at all to being jostled when it’s so full. Cal covers his mouth for a strained little burp. He’s pretty sure that a deep belch would help with some of the cramping but this provides no relief.
The building’s tenants are standing on the sidewalk in small groups and Cal moves off to the side, completely uninterested in conversation.
Cal wonders if anyone would notice if he started rubbing his belly and if anyone would care. He wonders if it would be weird if he sat down on the curb. Cal is holding his belly with one hand, unable to let go. He feels miserable. What was meant to be a relaxing, pleasant night has turned into a nightmare.
“Hey, are you ok?”
Cal realizes that his neighbor from down the hall, Birch, has approached. Cal likes Birch: they’re friendly and sweet and the two of them have had nice conversations in the hallway, but Cal has been too shy to take it any further.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” Birch continues, “but you’re standing all hunched and look really uncomfortable.”
Cal considers lying but the truth - at least part of it - comes out.
“I have a stomach ache.”
“Oh,” Birch says with a concerned frown. “Here, come sit down.”
They place a gentle hand on Cal’s shoulder and the contact feels nice. Cal lets Birch guide him over to the curb to sit.
“Thanks,” Cal says quietly.
“Sure! Do you want some company or would you rather be left alone?”
Cal is usually perfectly happy alone but suddenly is very sure that he wants Birch to stay.
“Company would be nice, if you don’t mind,” he says a little shyly.
Birch smiles happily and Cal thinks their smile is really nice.
“I don’t mind at all!” Birch says.
Birch begins chatting about the weather and speculating about what could have caused the fire alarm. The conversation doesn’t require much from Cal but it’s pleasant and distracts him somewhat from how awful he feels. Cal feels comfortable enough to rub his belly a little but with nothing to lean back against, it’s hard to get comfortable.
After a while a fire engine shows up and the firefighters go inside.
“Well, they’re not geared up and they’re not running,” Birch observes, “so that’s probably a good sign. Maybe we can go back in soon.”
A particularly vicious cramp seizes Cal’s stomach and he leans forward, grimacing, unable to stifle a grunt of pain.
“Oof, that doesn’t seem good,” Birch says sympathetically, reaching over to rub Cal’s back.
“I really hope we can go back in soon,” Cal gasps.
The cramp ebbs a bit and he sits back up. He’s feeling really bloated.
Birch stops rubbing Cal’s back and he immediately misses the contact.
“Could you keep doing that?” Cal asks quietly, his need for comfort outweighing his normal shyness.
“Of course!” Birch says. They scoot a little closer to Cal so that they can rub large circles over the whole of his back.
The firefighters eventually come out and announce that there was an alarm malfunction and it’s safe to go back in the building. Birch stands and holds their hand out to Cal. Cal accepts the help to his feet, one hand remaining glued to his belly.
Birch holds out their arm. “I can get you settled back in your apartment if you want.”
Cal knows he should say you don’t have to do that: Birch certainly has other stuff to do and Cal is the one who got himself into this predicament. But Birch’s offer seems sincere and the only thing that feels even slightly good to Cal right now is Birch touching him.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” Cal says, peeking out at Birch from under his eyelashes.
“Not in the slightest,” Birch grins. They hold out their arm again. “Let’s get you home.”
Even though they take the elevator up, Cal’s stomach cramps hard as they’re walking. He can feel how incredibly bloated he is on top of the big meal still in there. The pressure feels awful.
By the time Cal is unlocking the door to his apartment, he’s sweating a little.
“You’re looking really pale,” Birch says gently. “Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”
“No,” Cal says, “it just really hurts.”
Cal shuffles into the apartment. He’s very relieved that he always keeps his apartment pretty clean.
“Do you have any stomach meds I can get for you?” Birch asks.
“Um, yeah. In the medicine cabinet. The bathroom is that door.” Cal points.
“Yeah, my apartment has the same layout,” Birch smiles. “Why don’t you get comfy and I’ll get you that and some water?”
“That - um, that would be great but - um you don’t have to do this…” Cal trails off. He desperately wants Birch to stay but he feels like he’s asking too much.
Birch blushes and looks down, rubbing the back of their neck. “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well but I like you, and I really like taking care of people. If this is at all weird for you I will definitely leave but if you’re up for it, I would really like to stay and help you feel better.”
Cal takes a deep breath. “I would really like you to stay.”
Birch beams. “Great! Go lay down. I’ll be right in.”
Smiling, Cal heads into the bedroom and kicks off his shoes, takes off the hoodie, then lays down on the bed. A groan of relief escapes his lips. Cal finally brings both hands to his belly and looks down at himself. Oh god he’s so bloated. He starts rubbing his belly.
Birch enters a minute later with a glass of water and the bottle of pepto. They frown.
“I know I’ve really only seen you in the hallway, but I’m pretty sure you don’t usually look like that. No wonder you don’t feel good.”
“Yeah, I’m really bloated,” Cal grimaces, sitting up.
Birch shakes two pills out of the bottle and hands them to Cal along with the water. He downs the pills and drinks some of the water. He sits very still for a moment as his insides burble, then quickly covers his mouth as he gives a deep burp.
“Sorry, excuse me,” he says, putting the glass on the nightstand.
“Don’t apologize,” Birch says. “It seems like you need a lot more of that. Can I sit with you?”
“Yeah I’d - I’d like that.” Cal shifts over so that there’s plenty of room and lays down.
Birch sits on the side of the bed and draws one leg up so they’re facing Cal.
They chat for a bit about living in the building and where they moved from and their jobs, with Birch doing most of the talking and Cal rubbing his belly.
“You still seem pretty uncomfortable,” Birch observes after a bit.
“Yeah, still not feeling great,” Cal admits.
“I could try massaging your belly?” Birch offers. “A different angle might help.”
“Would you?” Cal asks, thinking it’s the nicest offer he’s ever received.
“Yeah, absolutely.”
Birch moves a little closer and places their hand over Cal’s stomach just below his ribs, immediately feeling the angry grumbling.
“Oh dear,” they murmur. “Let’s see if we can get that to quiet down.” They sweep their hand in gentle circles over the area. “Ok?” They glance at Cal.
“More than ok,” Cal says with a sigh. His stomach still feels awful but just being touched kindly is helping him relax.
Birch smiles and strokes a little more firmly. Cal feels a burp bubbling up in his chest and tries to swallow it down, not wanting to gross Birch out. Birch must be able to tell because they frown.
“Hey don’t hold that in,” they admonish gently. “This bloating isn’t going anywhere if you don’t let yourself burp.”
“Just didn’t want to be rude,” Cal says meekly.
Birch laughs. “Don’t be silly. Let it out.” They give Cal’s belly a friendly pat.
Cal smiles. A minute later he turns his head to the side and covers his mouth as he gives a deep belch.
“Oh that’s better,” he breathes, as his belly finally feels marginally less tight.
“See?” Birch grins at him.
“Yeah, I definitely needed that.”
Birch moves their hands around Cal’s belly, soothing extra tight areas and coaxing up more belches and burps.
Eventually, though Cal still feels full, the uncomfortable pressure of the bloating has receded. He sighs happily.
“That seems a little better,” Birch says quietly.
Cal yawns. “So much better.” He yawns again. “I guess I’m kind of sleepy.”
Birch gives his belly one more rub and a pat. “You should get some rest.”
“Thank you,” Cal says earnestly. “I seriously can’t thank you enough.”
“My pleasure,” Birch says with a grin. “Really.”
“Would um would you want to hang out sometime?” Cal asks. “Maybe I could buy you dinner or something to say thank you?”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” Birch smiles. “I’m going to go. Don’t get up!” they add quickly when Cal starts to sit up. “You just rest, I can let myself out.”
“Thanks Birch,” Cal says around another yawn. “I’ll see you soon?”
“Yep,” Birch says, heading for the door, “see you soon.”
Cal is asleep moments after the door closes.
~~~
A/N: I started writing this and was originally going to post it as an A/B story but then I couldn’t sleep one night and came up with Cal and Birch’s characters and the concept for their entire relationship. If you’re interested in what happens when Cal knocks on Birch’s door the next day (or anything else about these two) let me know: it will definitely encourage me to write it down as opposed to just think about it.
#belly kink#belly rubs#post-stuffing#indigestion#caretaking#burps#acquaintances to caretaking#sickfic#kerwyn's writing
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Apple Crumble by KerwynLar
A couple of people liked Fire Alarm, so I’m continuing the story of Birch and Cal. You don’t have to have read that one but it will make this one make more sense.
Birch and Cal’s first date has an indulgent end.
Birch was reading on the couch when there was a knock on the door. They marked their place in the book and went to look out the peephole. They smiled when they saw it was Cal and quickly opened the door.
“Hi!” they said cheerfully.
“Oh great, you’re home!” Cal gave a relieved smile.
“How are you feeling?” Birch asked.
“One hundred percent better, thanks for asking. I just needed to digest. Actually,” Cal held up the tote bag he was carrying, “I came to say thank you.” Cal pulled a pretty bouquet of flowers out of the bag. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got you these,” he handed Birch the flowers and pulled a fancy-looking bottle of wine out of the bag, “and this,” he handed over the wine and pulled out a box of chocolates, “and these. Feel free to re-gift any or all of this.”
Birch laughed. “Oh my gosh, Cal, this is too much!”
“Are you, like, allergic to chocolate or flowers or wine?” Cal asked.
“No, no allergies.” Birch smiled. “I like all of this, thanks!”
“No, thank you,” Cal said. “I was so miserable last night and you really, really helped me.”
“I’m glad,” Birch said warmly. “I’m very glad I could help.”
“Um,” Cal rubbed the back of his neck, “would you still want to grab dinner with me sometime?”
“Yeah,” Birch said eagerly. “I would love that.”
Read the rest below the cut or on AO3.
Cal had picked a restaurant a couple of blocks from the apartment that was nice but not too fancy. The food was very good, as were the cocktails that they both had. Birch discovered that Cal was only shy before he was comfortable with someone, and Birch’s help the night of the fire alarm had definitely made him comfortable with Birch. Cal was animated and engaging, as well as an excellent listener. He seemed genuinely interested in everything Birch had to say and asked thoughtful questions.
They talked about their names. Birch told Cal about how part of their process of coming out as nonbinary was agonizing over what to change their name to. Their deadname was completely gendered and they had always hated it. Ultimately they settled on Birch because they liked the association with nature and how it sounded. Cal said the name suited them and Birch blushed.
Cal told Birch that his full name was Henry Calvin Peterson III. He was largely estranged from his family and the idea of going by his given name left a bad taste in his mouth, so he had picked his favorite syllable and went with it.
They talked about their jobs. Cal sheepishly admitted that he really only used his library card to download e-books and audio books, and Birch assured him - as a librarian - that that was fine but did encourage him to check out some of the events the library put on.
Birch took some convincing that Cal’s job as an accountant was interesting, but the way Cal’s face lit up when he talked about it was hard to deny.
“All of my clients are small businesses,” Cal explained. “I get to help them balance their priorities and make decisions that set them up for success. Tax season sucks, but otherwise I really do love it.”
“What do you do for fun besides reading?” Cal asked as they were finishing their meals.
“I love cooking,” Birch smiled. “Trying new recipes is so much fun. But my favorite thing is cooking for other people. The look on someone’s face when they enjoy something I’ve made is the biggest high in the world for me.”
Cal cleared his throat. “Is this an awkward time for me to mention that I love eating and washing dishes?”
“Bullshit,” Birch laughed, “no one loves washing dishes.”
“I do, I swear!” Cal said. “I find cleaning in general really soothing.”
“There’s got to be a connection to enjoying being an accountant there,” Birch said, resting their chin on their hand.
Cal chuckled. “Probably. I like putting things in order.”
“You said you like eating, do you like cooking?”
Cal shrugged. “I can cook. Like I can competently follow a recipe. But it’s not really something I enjoy spending time on. When I cook for myself it’s always pretty basic.”
“You’d rather do the washing up,” Birch said with a grin.
“Kind of!” Cal smiled back at them.
Birch sat back and pushed their mostly empty plate away from them. “Do you have room for dessert?”
“Mm hmm,” Cal took the last bite of his dinner. “I - uh - can put away a lot of food. Definitely room for dessert.”
“I had some apples that were about to go bad, so I made an apple crumble this morning. It just needs a few minutes in the oven. Want to come back to my place?”
“That sounds amazing,” Cal enthused.
“You don’t have to answer this,” Birch said as they were walking back to the apartment building, “and I probably shouldn’t be asking, but do you know what caused your stomach ache the night of the fire alarm?”
Cal grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I do.”
“You definitely don’t have to tell me,” Birch said quickly.
“No, I don’t mind,” Cal said. “It was kind of the fire alarm.”
“Your stomach reacts to loud noises?” Birch tried.
Cal chuckled. “No, my stomach reacts to hustling down three flights of stairs when it’s really, really full. I had eaten a … very big dinner. If I had been able to just lie on my couch for the night like I had planned it would have been great. As it was …” he shrugged, “I’m just lucky that you saw I wasn’t feeling well and decided to help. Obviously I wasn’t going to die or anything but I would have felt a lot worse without you.”
“Hm,” Birch mused, “we’ll have to figure out a way for me to cook you a big meal and you to do the washing up without upsetting your stomach.”
“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Cal smiled.
“Oh wow, that smells incredible,” Cal said, his mouth starting to water, as Birch pulled the large rectangular baking pan of apple crumble out of the oven. The crumb topping was perfectly golden brown and a few wisps of steam rose from the pan.
“Looks incredible too,” Cal said, watching Birch scoop a large portion into a bowl and top it with vanilla ice cream.
“I hope the taste lives up to it!” Birch said, serving themself a smaller portion.
With his first bite, Cal closed his eyes and let out an “mmmm.” The apples were soft but not mushy. The crumble was not overly sweet and added just enough crunch while the syrup was the perfect combination of sugar and cinnamon. The heat of the apple crumble balanced with the cold sweetness of the ice cream made it the perfect mouthful. Cal quickly took a few more bites before looking up at Birch.
“This. Is. Amazing,” he said.
Birch chuckled. “It’s just apple crumble.” They blushed.
“It is the best apple crumble I have ever tasted,” Cal insisted, taking another bite. “What’s the little bit of tartness?”
“Ooh, sensitive palate,” Birch beamed. “There’s a touch of lemon juice in there to keep it from getting too sweet.”
“Perfect,” Cal said, tucking back in.
“Oh my god, I could eat this whole pan,” Cal moaned as he finished a second helping of the apple crumble.
Birch chuckled. “I would love that.”
“Wait, really?” Cal looked at them wonderingly.
“I mean … yeah,” Birch’s brow furrowed, “Wait, were you serious about eating the whole thing?”
“I could be,” Cal said.
“Really?”
“I have a lot of stomach capacity and I really like feeling full.” Cal eyed up the pan. “Eating this much after dinner would be a lot, even for me, especially because it’s sweet, but I could do it. And it’s so good, I want to do it.”
Birch’s cheeks had taken on a bright flush. “You … you want to stuff yourself on something I made?”
“Yeah,” Cal said, holding eye contact with them, “I really do.”
Birch’s breath hitched as they pushed the pan towards him.
Two-thirds of the way through the pan, Cal put down his spoon and sat back, rubbing a hand over his stomach.
“Done?” Birch asked, smiling brightly but fighting down a twinge of disappointment that they knew was ridiculous. The man had eaten an incredible amount of the dessert. Saying he would eat it all was probably a boast, and a sweet one. Birch knew that they should appreciate that.
Cal burped into his fist a couple times, then patted his belly, which was starting to look a little rounder. He gave Birch a lopsided smile.
“I told you I was going to eat it all,” he said. “Just taking a breather.”
“Oh!” Birch said, feeling their cheeks flush again. “Great!”
Birch and Cal had been chatting as Cal ate, but as he approached the end of the pan and seemed to be struggling a little, Birch let the conversation trail off, preferring to watch with rapt attention as Cal lifted each bite to his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Birch was certain that every time Cal leaned back for a breather his belly looked a little rounder. When at last Cal took the final bite and sat back with a huff, his belly was pushing heavily against the buttons of his shirt.
Cal closed his eyes and rubbed his belly with a groan. “Oh that feels good. That was so delicious, Birch. I feel amazing.” He covered his mouth as he burped. “Excuse me.”
Birch knew their eyes were wide and they were probably blushing all the way up to their ears. “You really ate it all in one sitting!” they breathed.
Cal burped again. “Mm hmm.” He opened his eyes to look at Birch then rubbed his hand in a wide circle over his rounded belly. “Every bite tasted fantastic and it feels wonderful and warm in here.”
“Does … does your stomach hurt?”
Cal considered this. “Sort of? But it’s the kind of hurt that feels good if that makes sense.” He paused for another burp. “I love this feeling.” Cal patted his belly with a sleepy smile.
“Could I rub your belly?” The question left Birch’s lips before they could stop themself.
“Oh my god,” Cal chuckled. “Feeding me the most amazing apple crumble I’ve ever tasted and then rubbing my tummy? Careful, you’ll never get rid of me.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ll never want to.” Birch took an alarmed breath and looked at Cal’s face. That was almost certainly way too forward a thing to say, it was way too soon. But Cal just gave them another sleepy smile.
Swallowing, Birch pulled their chair up beside Cal’s and tentatively placed their hand over the area where Cal’s belly swelled out from under his ribs. They thought they could feel some gurgling movement within and they started to rub a gentle circle. They were transfixed. Cal’s belly was swollen with something they made. Birch had just made it as an afterthought to try to use up some fruit before it spoiled but Cal had liked it enough to eat every bite of it until his belly was round with it.
Birch came back to themself as Cal put his hand over theirs and guided it a little lower down on his belly.
“A little pressure there, if you don’t mind,” Cal said quietly, and Birch quickly massaged the spot, realizing that the muscles felt tighter there.
Cal leaned his head back against the wall behind his seat and gave a quiet, relieved groan. “Perfect, thank you.”
Birch felt a bubbling gurgle under their hands and Cal quickly turned his head away and covered his mouth before belching deeply. “Excuse me,” he said.
After that Birch used both hands to seek out tight spots over the swell of Cal’s belly, producing pleased sighs, burps, and relieved groans in equal measure.
“This is heaven,” Cal murmured eventually, “but I should really get home.”
“Do you feel ok?” Birch asked.
“Incredible,” Cal smiled at them. “I feel incredible.”
“Is walking to your apartment going to make you feel not incredible anymore?”
Cal noticed that Birch got a cute line between their eyebrows when they worried. “After that belly rub?” he grinned. “Nah, I’m all set. And I’m taking that pan with me.”
“What?” Birch’s look of worry turned to confusion.
“The pan that the crumble was in,” Cal paused to burp, “I’m taking it back to my apartment with me so that I can wash it for you and return it tomorrow.”
Birch rolled their eyes. “You don’t have to do that, Cal.”
“I want to,” Cal insisted. “Returning it will give me the opportunity to ask you out again.”
#birch & cal#kerwyn's writing#belly kink#belly rubs#stuffing#burps#caretaking#first date#neighbors to dating
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