RPF: When in Rome- James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
Based on shayzgirl’s ‘Tender Loving Care’. Warning: contains pudge love and feeding, don’t like, don’t read!
When in Rome
Gaining weight for Filth was never something that James intended to enjoy, but it seems Michael is certain it should be so.
Having found it difficult to put on the weight alone, James submitted to Michael’s help, and finds himself now being ‘kidnapped’- that is, Michael is taking him on holiday in order to treat him, make sure he relaxes and, most importantly, feed him up on delicious (and fattening) food.
"So, where have you chosen?" James asks, over the breakfast table the day they are due to leave. Michael hasn’t told him the exact destination, only that they’re going for two weeks, and an approximation of the weather so that James knows what sort of clothes to pack. Michael looks up at him.
"Hm?"
"Where are you kidnapping me away to?"
"Oh!" Michael grins wickedly, "Rome."
"Rome?"
"Of course! Italy’s the classiest place to go to put on weight."
James raises an eyebrow.
"Is it now?"
"Obviously. Haven’t you read Eat Pray Love?"
The other eyebrow goes up.
"You have read Eat Pray Love?"
"You’ll love it, James." He pauses, "Rome, that is. Not Eat Pray Love. Though I’m sure you’d love that too, if you read it."
James thinks for a moment, then says,
"Two weeks in Rome. Jesus."
"Scared? Or excited?" Michael asks kindly.
"I… I don’t really know. I mean, I have to do this, for the film. Some of the scenes would make it obvious that I was wearing padding if we went with that. I have to do it, I just didn’t think that doing it would be something that I could… enjoy."
"There’s nothing wrong with indulging yourself, James," Michael tells him, "When are you going to get a chance like this again? Eat well, and enjoy yourself."
"Let myself go," James says quietly.
"I don’t like that term," Michael tuts, "What are you letting go? Your body? Your beauty? No, I don’t like that. It’s letting the stress go, letting inhibitions and the standards that society imposes go. It’s going to be a good thing, okay? I promise."
Something warm stirs in the centre of James’ chest, and he smiles.
"Thank you," he says.
"I love you," Michael tells him.
"I love you too."
James eats the rest of his breakfast happily, whilst Michael watches, daydreaming about the idea of his slim but far-too-often-stressed-out boyfriend, utterly relaxed and a few pounds heavier.
* * *
When they’ve boarded the plane, James takes a seat by the window and leans on it, squashing his nose against the glass.
"Wave bye-bye to England," Michael tells him.
"Aye. And tae my figure," James replies. Michael chuckles.
"You’re not losing your figure," Michael smiles, "You’re just getting a new one."
"And what’ll you think of this new one, eh?" James asks, smirking, fishing for a compliment. Or two. Michael indulges him.
"I won’t be able to keep my hands of it. I think it’ll need a lot of attention when its tummy aches, and when it can’t get into its clothes."
James blushes involuntarily.
"But of course, it’s the man to whom the figure belongs that I love," Michael smiles, leaning for a quick kiss.
"You’re crazy," James tells him, but he’s smiling, "You’re crazy, and possibly a chubby chaser."
"But you don’t need chasing," Michael teases, "I’ve already got you."
"Not if you keep making that assumption, you don’t!" James retorts. Michael’s voice drops low.
"Maybe I’ll just feed you until you’re so stuffed full that you can’t run away."
James moistens his lips.
"And then what?"
"And then you’d be all mine, and I would show you how much I love every inch and every pound of you."
"Well, we’ll have to see about that," James says, but his delight at what Michael’s saying is evident in his voice. The overhead light instructing them to fasten their seatbelts come on, so they obey, then link hands and settle into their seats.
* * *
James and Michael’s hotel is only a short drive from the airport, so once they land, they get a cab and are soon in their hotel room. It’s large and lavish, with a kingsize bed with soft white sheets and plump pillows. They leave their bags, unpacking only what they need immediately, then Michael takes James’ hand.
"Come on, let’s go and get pizza- real, Italian pizza. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving."
They get down to the lobby, where James assumes they’ll hail another cab. Michael shakes his head, a wicked grin on his face. They step out into the hotel courtyard, where Michael’s motorbike is waiting.
"I- what?!" James says, rushing over to it and running his fingers over the handles.
"She’s not mine," Michael explains, "She’s just the same model. I hired her. But you wanna go for a spin? I know we’ve ridden together before, but it’s somehow more special in Italy, isn’t it?"
"I love you, I love you, I fucking love you," James babbles, his hand now on the leather seat. Michael grins and tosses him a helmet.
They ride around the city for a while, James’ arms wrapped around Michael’s waist, his chin resting on his shoulder, until they find a pizzeria they like the look of. They sit at a table on the cobbled patio, holding hands atop the table and chattering whilst they wait for their food. Michael makes sure James orders whatever he wants, which ends up being a large pizza with plum tomatoes, mozzarella, onion and sweet Italian sausage. He tucks in straight away, relishing the flavour of his first indulgent meal of his ‘kidnapping’.
James eats quickly, but by the time he’s finished more than three quarters of the pizza, he’s struggling to finish what remains. He’s a bit too warm and just feels so sleepy. He slumps a little in his chair, looking at Michael.
"Think you can finish it?" Michael asks.
"Dunno," James mumbles, "M’so full."
"You know the worst thing about restaurants?" Michael says quietly. James shakes his head, his heart hammering with a sort of euphoria. "I can’t rub your stomach whilst you eat."
James whimpers at the thought. He feels stuffed, sluggish and totally vulnerable to whatever Michael wishes: and James finds that he likes this. He swallows, and reaches for the final slice. Michael’s mouth curls into a smile.
"That’s my man."
Michael worries that the ride back to the hotel will make James sick, but it doesn’t. He just seems to grow even sleepier, slumping against Michael’s back, the warm, pleasant weight in his stomach pulling him down. When they make it back to the hotel room, James collapses immediately on the bed, spread-eagled on his back.
"Oh, God, my tummy," he breathes.
"Want a tummy rub?" Michael asks.
"Please," James near-begs. Michael lies next to him, rubbing his stomach soothingly. James smiles, exhales in relief, and soon falls asleep.
* * *
James is just glad that room service meals aren’t labelled with their calorie content. He slept for most of the afternoon, and awoke mid-evening feeling hungry again, so now he and Michael are sitting on their bed with their meals on trays in front of them. They have shared a plate of garlic bread, and are now focusing on their main courses. James has spaghetti carbonara, in a rich creamy sauce, with pancetta, egg and herbs. He asked Michael to put some of the parmesan they were given onto it, and Michael was very liberal with the serving. Michael himself has lamb, feta and herb fusilli, but seems more intent upon giving James’ food to him, wrapping the spaghetti around the fork and feeding him big mouthfuls. James’ mouth becomes sticking with the sauce- and by the taste of it, he’s sure they used cream instead of milk in making it- and his stomach begins to get full. Michael seems to have eaten all he wants of his own meal, so feeds some of it to James. After a couple of forkfuls, James shakes his head at the next, leaning back.
"I’m full," he murmurs. Michael moves so that he is sitting behind James, pulling James into his lap. He slides his hands onto James’ tummy and begins to massage it evenly, helping the food to settle. James groans happily, eyes half shut, licking the sauce from around his lips. Michael rubs James’ stomach for a few minutes, before lowering his mouth to James’ ear and whispering,
"Think you can manage more?"
"Yes," James says. He isn’t sure how much more he can fit in his belly, but his meal tastes so good at he will push himself to finish it.
With Michael’s help and coaxing, he finishes his own meal, and most of Michael’s too. He feels like he’s going to explode.
"Dessert?" Michael says mischievously.
James says yes before he’s even able to think about it.
* * *
James stands in front of the hotel bathroom mirror in his boxer shorts. He rubs both his palms down where his hipbones used to protrude, then turns sideways to look at his belly. He’s been eating so much so regularly the past ten days that it’s full more often than it’s empty, but his appetite has increased too, so that sometimes he finds himself feeling hungry even if he’s still a bit bloated from the previous meal. He pokes a finger at his middle, the soft flesh giving beneath the pressure he applies. His new belly fat protrudes over the tight waistband of his boxer shorts, and when he grabs at it he can get a secure hold on half a fistful. The bathroom seems cold and the light is harsh, the dappled, warm yellow sunlight that falls on their bed each morning absent. He feels like he’s seeing himself for the first time without the rose tinted glasses that Michael provides with his constant attentions. James moans and raises his hands to run his fingers through his hair and tug at it in frustration. A sleepy-eyed and tousled-haired Michael leans in the door.
"What’s wrong, James?" he asks blearily.
"I’m fat," James says. The word doesn’t taste as sweet as the idea had when the fortnight begin. "Oh, God, I’m too fat. I’ve gone too far, Michael, shit-"
Michael is suddenly right behind James, his lips on his neck and his hands playing at his hips.
‘Hush, you’re beautiful," Michael murmurs, "Beautiful, beautiful." As he says it he rubs gently at James’ curved hips, continuing to kiss his neck delicately. James closes his eyes, enjoying the touch, but his emotions still in turmoil inside him. "Come back to bed," Michael says, "Come to bed and we’ll talk."
James swallows and slips one of his hands into Michael’s, allowing himself to be lead back to the bed. He lies awkwardly on it, tilting back his head, to look at the ceiling instead of his own body. Michael kneels over him, first reaching out and putting both his hands on James’ shoulders to massage them soothingly. He slides his hands down to tease James’ nipples, rubbing his hands over the slight softness of his boyfriend’s chest. He leans forward to kiss in the centre of James’ chest, before opening his mouth and sucking gently as he moves his mouth down his abdomen. He dips his tongue into James’ belly button, then begins to gnaw gently around it, nipping the pudge with his teeth. James gasps at the feeling; but is still agonising that the flesh is there at all. Michael seems to sense this, so raises his head, his lips pink from his efforts.
"James, you’re gorgeous,"
James wriggles, his face doubtful.
"I… Michael, I feel like a fuckin’ beast."
"Listen to me, James. I know it’s gonna be hard getting used to this weight when you’ve been a skinny thing all your life. But I mean it from the depths of my heart when I say you’re beautiful. You’re perfect, and the extra pounds just make you extra hot. Do you know just how good your body feels against mine? Just how warm and soft you are? And that’s just when you’ve not eaten. I love your tummy when it’s full. I just wanna cover it in kisses and rub it ‘til it doesn’t hurt you anymore." Michael stops, his cheeks pink, seeming short of breath from his vehement speech. He shakes his head, laughing,
"James, your tummy in a clingy white t-shirt, and your thighs and ass in tight denim jeans? It’s just like, wow, fuck me. Simple as that."
Michael looks at James, who looks back with glinting eyes. James simply puts one hand on the back of Michael’s head, kisses him by way of a thank you, and then gently pushes his head back down to his tummy. Michael obeys eagerly, pressing kisses all over James’ stomach, sucking hungrily at soft flesh and nibbling at skin. He moves a bit further down, and begins to bite, carefully, at the softness of James’ thighs. James can feel himself hardening at Michael’s proximity. He guides Michael’s head to where he wants him, Michael’s eases James’ boxers down, and James tilts his head back, shutting his eyes in pleasure.
* * *
In another four days, James and Michael are getting ready to go to the airport to fly home. Sort of. Michael is finishing off packing, whilst James sits in the chair by the window, nibbling on bruschetta, not dressed yet.
"You should put some clothes on," Michael tells him amusedly, "As much as I love you wandering around in those shorts and that t-shirt, I’m not sure that everyone at the airport will appreciate it."
"I haven’t left this room for three days," James says, "I’ve just been lying around, sleeping, watching TV, having showers with you, and eating. Let’s be honest wi’ ourselves, my clothes probably don’t fit me anymore."
Michael clears his throat, trying not to show how much he likes this idea. He chucks a t-shirt and jeans at James’ head.
"Dressed. Now." he commands. James looks at the clothes.
"Michael, this is your t-shirt."
"I know."
James reddens.
"That’s not fair."
"If it’s practically indecent, then I won’t make you wear it outside."
"Pervert," James mumbles, taking the clothes and retreating into the bathroom. "Fucking Hell," he says from inside, a few minutes later.
"Lemme see!" Michael calls. The door opens and James steps into the room, looking slightly annoyed. Michael stares at him. The jeans, James’ own, are a little bit tight around his waist, and the denim hugs his thighs tight, but he’s managed to fasten them. Michael’s t-shirt is a slim-fit grey v-neck, and Michael is mesmerised by how it looks on his boyfriend. It covers his tummy, just, but is incredibly tight, highlighting the curves of his belly and his sides, so fitted that Michael can even see the outline of James’ belly button.
"Holy shit," Michael breathes.
"I hate you," James replies, blushing furiously.
"No, it looks amazing! You look amazing. My god."
James rubs one of his sides self-consciously.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, James, yes. I love it."
James frowns.
"Will the paps when we get off the plane in England love it, mm?"
Michael walks over to James, wrapping his arms around his waist.
"They have no taste in men."
"And you do?"
"Impeccable taste," Michael smiles, kissing James tenderly. He tastes of bruschetta and coffee, and is warm and soft in Michael’s arms.
* * *
Back in their apartment in England, James sits on the edge of the bath whilst Michael brushes his teeth. James is combing his wet hair, having just showered. He’s wearing boxers and nothing else. Michael rinses out his mouth and then looks at James, eyeing his cushioned belly, his lovehandles and tummy rolls. His heart throbs with admiration and adoration.
"Please stay like this," he blurts suddenly. James blinks, looking up.
"What?"
"I- just," Michael says, struggling with the words, "Please don’t lose the weight after this film. Or, if you do, please don’t feel the need to do it too quickly. I really do love it on you."
James smiles, truly touched.
"We’ll see. You know I might have to, for other roles."
"I know," Michael sighs.
"But, hey, Michael?" Michael looks at him, "When we’re older, when our adopted babies have left home- don’t look so startled, you know it’s gonna happen- and my metabolism starts to slow down, and nature takes its course, I’ll let myself get as chubby as you want, okay?"
"And I will let my husband know every day just how beautiful he is," Michael replies.
"Hold the phone, when are we getting married?"
"Don’t look so startled, you know it’s gonna happen," Michael grins. James smiles widely back, gets to his feet and kisses Michael hard, pressing his soft tummy against Michael’s own. Michael’s hands find James’ hips, and he sighs into the kiss contentedly, assuredly in love.
- End -