Admit It

Chapter 8

Tyler pays for the takeout I order him, and the night very quickly turns around. Relief fills my body, and I let myself finally relax and look around his apartment. It's more space than I expected, it's got two bedrooms, and it's decorated in a strange way that seems completely Tyler in an indescribable way. Antique but modern, mismatched but it all fits together.

On his couch, we settle down after I put in an order for pizza, which already feels like our thing despite only having it a little over a week ago for the first time, and we make small talk until Tyler starts kissing my neck and we move to making out.

Just as I've slipped my hand into his waistband, the buzzer for his apartment goes off, and the voice of a delivery boy  floods the living room.

"Hi, uh, I have a pizza here for Tyler?"

I growl with annoyance, upset that my first real chance to feel him has been interrupted, but get up to buzz the delivery boy in and meet him at the front door, using cash Tyler insisted I take and leaving a generous tip.

"Table or couch?" I ask, and Tyler doesn't move from the couch, so I walk over and put the boxes down on the table. Three medium pizzas, each with different toppings, all vegetarian (I couldn't bring myself to order meat), almost all for Tyler. I staked my claim on one piece from each pizza, leaving 21 slices for Tyler to pack away on his own.

"More important question: beer or wine?"

"It depends," he says with a smirk. "Do you have a burping kink too?"

My cheeks flush bright red immediately, and he laughs deviously. "Beer then, obviously." My embarrassment overwhelms me, but I grab the six pack of beer I'd brought and head over to the table with two plates, taking my three slices onto one, then piling all the slices from the first pizza (plain cheese) onto a plate for Tyler.

We sit next to each other and eat in silence. I crack open one of the beers for myself, savouring the blueberry aftertaste between burning cheese on the top of my mouth and crunch crust bites. Tyler feeds himself, plowing through the first seven slices in the time it takes me to eat three, and downing half of his first beer.

"Someone's hungry," I tease lightly, taking his plate and piling all the remaining slices from the second pizza (mushrooms and onions) on top of each other.

Tyler grimaces and presses a fist to his mouth, keeping his lips closed as a deep belch muffles in his cheeks. "Ugh sorry, I'm trying to save them for later."

I feel my stomach flutter, and reach my hand over to rub his jeans teasingly. "You know there's four more beers, you don't have to worry about running out of fuel."

He chuckles and starts digging into the second plateful, ravenously packing slices away until there's two left, and he suddenly slows down. I watch intently, which Tyler doesn't seem to mind at all, and reach over to start rubbing his expanding stomach when he stops for a moment.

"You okay?" I ask, and he leans his head back, letting the plate rest on his lap.

"Yeah, just need a second," he says, breathing heavily and putting one hand on his stomach, using it to pull his shirt up and expose his belly.

The whisps of a treasure trail are stretched from his belly button down towards the waistband of his jeans. My eyes widen in awe as my hand moves carefully over the tight skin. "Come on, second one's almost done."

I take a slice in my free hand and hold it up towards Tyler's mouth. He looks at me uncertainly, then grins in the way that makes his eyes brighten and crinkle around the edges, opening his mouth and obediently taking large bites. I feed him both of the remaining slices, and let him drink a second beer while I pile the third pizza (artichoke hearts and spinach) on his plate.

"I don't know - uuuuurp - if I can do it," Tyler groans, burping mid sentence and sighing with relief.

My excitement leads my actions rather than my common sense, and my hand slides down from his belly towards his jeans again, running back and forth over his crotch teasingly. "You'll be rewarded if you finish it all," I say in a low voice.

Tyler looks at me with a bit of surprise, but more than anything, intrigue. "Will I?"

"Definitely."

He reaches for the plate and takes a pause before diving into the slices, grunting while he chews and swallows in preparation to tackle another bite. My own shorts grow tight, but my focus remains on Tyler, alternating between massaging his growing belly and teasing his jeans.

Four slices to go. I undo the button on his jeans and he moans, belching after a swig of beer and biting into the next piece.

Three slices to go. I unzip his jeans and start massaging lower on his belly. It feels tighter than I anticipate, and I realize he must be feeling extremely stuffed.

Two slices to go. I crack open the next beer for him, it'll be his fourth, and hold it to his lips, forcing him to chug a good third of it before lowering the bottle. He belches twice, wet and deep, before resuming his binge.

One slice left. Tyler moans deeply, and I wonder if he's actually going to be able to do it. His skin feels tight under both my hands, massaging like it's my job (well, I suppose at this point it is) and I look him straight in the eyes.

"Do it. You're so close. You know you want to feel what three pizzas is like."

He looks at me with almost glazed eyes, and I can tell he's dangerously close to a food coma. His naturally thin body with a pot belly is now extremely swollen. His hands shake as he holds the piece to his mouth, taking bite after bite and chewing slowly. Three more. Two more. Last one.

I slap his belly while he's swallowing the last bite and he whimpers, gingerly touching the top of his swollen stomach with one hand.

As promised, I pull his jeans down in a move similar to what he did for me a few days ago, palming my own erection with one hand, until I've revealed Tyler's boxers and the length of the bulge it contains.

Holy shit.