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Johnny was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a soft, warm blanket with a star pattern. His stomach was making monstrous growls worthy of a desert beast. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes watery, and his mouth hung wide open in an expression of pure tragedy.
“Gyro!!! I’m dying!”
His voice echoed through the apartment. From the kitchen doorway, a deep, warm laugh answered him.
“Nyo-ho! You’re exaggerating again, Johnny.”
Gyro appeared in the doorway, massive. Really massive. His imposing body almost filled the entire space. He was wearing a loose sweatshirt that struggled to contain his broad chest and his round, well-fed belly, which slightly spilled over the waistband of his pants. His thick arms, covered in small scars and freckles, held a wooden spoon in one hand and a spatula in the other. His messy hair and round face wore that mocking but affectionate smile he reserved only for Johnny. When Gyro moved, his belly jiggled. Johnny stretched his arms toward him like a spoiled child.
“I’m drying up! Look, I’m completely flat!” He lifted his t-shirt to show his hollow stomach.
Gyro approached, laughing, his round belly brushing against the edge of the couch. He placed a warm, heavy hand on Johnny’s head, ruffling his hair.
“You ate less than two hours ago, you little drama queen.”
“That was just a snack! I need a real meal! Gyro, please… I’m hungry… You almost ate the whole package by yourself.”
His voice became more plaintive, almost a whine. He grabbed the hem of Gyro’s sweatshirt and tugged on it, his fingers nearly disappearing into the soft fabric stretched over his companion’s generous paunch. Gyro looked down at him, touched. He loved when Johnny did that: that mix of provocation and emotional dependence that made him irresistible. He leaned down and placed a kiss on Johnny’s forehead.
“The sauce is almost ready. Ten more minutes.”
“Ten minutes?! I’m gonna die before then!”
“Nyo-ho! Then I’ll make you a double portion. Triple even. With extra cheese and extra bread.”
“Promise?”
Johnny looked up at him with shining, hopeful eyes. Gyro smiled, his double chin deepening.
“Promise. And if you’re good, I’ll even let you lick the spoon.”
Johnny let out a little squeal of joy and sat up to wrap his arms around Gyro’s waist… or at least try. His arms were too short to go all the way around that imposing body. He ended up snuggling against Gyro’s soft, warm belly, rubbing his cheek against the fabric like a cat.
“You’re too fat…” he murmured, half-teasing, half-admiring.
“And you’re too skinny. We need to balance that out.”
Gyro ran a hand along Johnny’s back, sliding down to his slim hips. He loved the contrast: him, broad and solid, with generous curves accumulated from all the shared good meals, and Johnny, smaller, wiry, always moving, always demanding attention and food that he always ended up sharing with Gyro.
In the kitchen, the sauce was simmering, filling the air with an enticing smell of tomato, herbs, and meat. Gyro had prepared a hearty dish: fresh pasta, rich bolognese sauce, an industrial amount of grated cheese, and garlic bread golden from the oven. He always cooked too much. It was his way of showing love. Johnny stayed glued to him, his nose buried in Gyro’s sweatshirt, breathing in his familiar scent: laundry, spices, and that reassuring body heat.
“Gyro…”
“Hm?”
“You know I love you, right? Even when you make me wait.”
“I know. And I love you even more when you do your little starving artist routine.”
Johnny lifted his head, his cheeks even redder. “It’s not a routine! I’m really hungry!”
“Sure, sure.” Gyro chuckled softly, his belly trembling against Johnny. “Come on, help me set the table. Or rather… stay right there. You’re good like that.”
Johnny didn’t need to be told twice. He let himself be almost carried entirely by Gyro, who moved around the kitchen with surprising ease for someone of his size. Every time Gyro bent down to stir the sauce, Johnny felt the movement of his soft body against him. It was comforting.
When the dish was finally ready, Gyro served an enormous plate for Johnny… and an even bigger one for himself. He sat down heavily on the chair, and Johnny practically climbed onto his lap to eat beside him. Between two bites, Johnny looked up at Gyro.
“You’re really the best cook in the world.”
“And you’re the loudest hungry person.”
Gyro wiped a trace of sauce from Johnny’s cheek with his thumb, then brought it to his own mouth.
“Double portion, as promised.”
“Triple next time?” Johnny asked with a mischievous smile.
“Only if you give me a ten-minute hug after the meal.”
“Yeah.”
They ate in silence for a moment, simply happy to be together. Gyro savoring every bite with pleasure. Johnny, small and expressive, devouring his plate as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
When the plates were empty and Johnny’s belly was nicely full, he let himself lean against Gyro’s broad chest with a sigh of contentment.
“Gyro…”
“What is it this time, star?”
“I’m hungry again.”
“For what?”
“For you.”
Gyro blushed, his deep laugh resonating in his chest. “Nyo-ho… You little glutton.”
He wrapped his thick arms around Johnny, completely enveloping him. In that embrace, Johnny almost disappeared, nestled against that warm, soft, and imposing body that made him feel both tiny and perfectly protected. The star-patterned blanket slipped to the floor. Outside, night was falling, but inside, it was warm, it smelled good, and the growling had finally stopped. For now.
The End.