Chapter 28 - Valentine's

“Is that all of them?” Baz asked, peering at my hand-written list then back to his phone. “This was a great idea, Millie. I cannot tell you how happy I am to wear sweatpants and eat things I didn’t cook .”

I clambered over the arm of my new, Basil-proof couch to use his plump arm as a pillow and his shoulder, a chin rest. “You usually love your own food best,” I teased.

He shrugged without looking up from his phone, his thumb hitting the order button over and over again. Every restaurant in my neighborhood would get the chance to be reviewed by a world-class chef – though they didn’t know that, because he couldn’t sit in their dining rooms. I wanted to invite him into my world, my neighborhood, my favorite places, so we were celebrating our first Valentine’s at my place.

“Did you order two of the water chestnut cakes?” I batted my eyelashes pleadingly at him to make him laugh. His smile was my favorite reward, and he bestowed it often on me.

He beamed. “I ordered three. I know they’re my princess’s favorite.”

Cozily wrapped in my velvet joggers and a hoodie, soft and touchable just for my big man, I scrambled up into his lap and swung my leg over one of his meaty thighs. I love that there was no way I could possibly spread my legs wide enough to fit around his belly. He seemed even bigger in the smallness of my apartment.

It was, at least, a little less beige. Baz had helped me paint one wall a soft sage hue, and I’d added a few stencils of leaves around the living room. It brightened up the place more than I would have guessed, and made it feel warm and comforting. This wasn’t just a place to exist anymore, it was my home, and my base for building whatever future I wished.

“What a merciful ruler you are,” I cooed and skimmed my hands under his belly, stroking the soft, precious flesh. “Am I going to get to feed you?”

“I insist on it, princess,” he smirked down at me. After a second, his grin faded and he looked regretful. “I’m so sorry I’m not taking you out and showing you off.”

“I’m having a wonderful time.” It was true. I felt complete right now, despite the nerves I had about Basileus’s opening tomorrow. “Why do you put so much importance on celebrating Valentine’s Day?”

He peered down my shirt with a satisfied expression then bounced his knee, sending delicious jiggles through his leg against my sex. He preened smugly as my eyes rolled back, and said through a grin, “I may be the descendant of a gluttony demon, but there are other pleasures of the flesh that my people enjoy. And…” He trailed off and looked a bit sheepish. “Us Tieflings, especially the de Gras family, tend to be romantics. I don’t know why, but a lot of us are.”

His own parents, Leon and Frankie, stories about his great-grandfather and grandmother… they were a mushy bunch. “I’ve lucked out in just about every way possible,” I said, and slid my hands as far as they could go around him — not very. He smelled so divine, masculine, and smoky and sweet all at once.

He hadn’t stopped checking me out for a moment, tilting his head forward to better ogle my cleavage. “Did I see a peek of the present I gave you?”

“You mean the present you gave yourself?”

He shrugged with a ‘caught me!’ expression that lacked so much as a trace of guilt. “Fair enough. Well then, I really hope you’re wearing it.” His cheeks bulged in a wide grin.

“I am.” I leaned against his bulk and summoned my coyest look. “When would you like to see it?”

“I was thinking,” Baz said slowly, as husky and warm as the soft finger that drifted down my chest, between my breasts, “that I’d like to make my girl come while we wait.”

Heat blossomed between my thighs, and, involuntarily, I ground my hips on his thick leg. The grin that spread on his face, slow, eyes heavy-lidded, made my sex thrum. “How do you want me?”

He exhaled sharply through pursed lips, and his eyebrows leapt up. “God, it’s incredible hearing you say that. The way you just hand me control is…” He sighed and a spark ignited in his dark eyes. They took on a glassy, lustful glaze while he licked his lips. “On my belly, princess. Ride my belly and shove those pretty tits in my face.”

I loved these moments. His desire was so greedy and blatant, even my insecurities couldn’t mistake it for anything else. My fat king deserved a little show first.

Maybe a teeny apartment and comfy sweats weren’t the sexiest setting or outfit in the world, but the way he devoured me with his eyes made me feel like the sexiest woman imaginable. His eyes got huge when I stood and started to sway while unzipping my hoodie. The skin-tight crop top underneath made him bite his lip, and he uttered the hottest, neediest-sounding groan as it came off to reveal a burgundy bra in raw silk and black lace. The highlight for him was, of course, the moment when the matching panties were revealed. Even by his luxurious standards, this was a beautiful set.

“Come here, baby girl,” he commanded me softly, and patted the upper swell of his gut. “This is right where you belong.”

Who was I to resist such an invitation? Baz reached out his hand to guide me onto his body, and soon his soft, huge, round boulder of a belly was under me. He hissed a slow sigh of satisfaction, and his hands roamed all over me. He tweaked my nipples, stroked my thighs and belly, and finally cupped my ass with a benevolently dictatorial expression. His palms rocked my hips, forcing me to grind against him shamelessly, just as his face nuzzled my breasts.

“Baz, my love,” I sighed, stroking his horns and curling my body closer to his face. With one hand he hefted my tits free from the bra, spilling out for his lips. They closed on my nipples hungrily and he sucked on them, grunting at my squeals and moans.

With all the work we’d been doing on Basileus, we hadn’t had much time for sex or romance. My body was tightly wound, needy, and, already, I could feel my wetness soaking through my panties onto his belly.

“Good girl, that’s it,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know you need this, baby girl. I do too. Come on, sweet girl, come on, princess.”

His fingers dug into my hips, and he suckled even harder on my breasts. I couldn’t believe how badly I missed this, nor could I believe how fast I started coming. It took a mere few minutes, but my head fell forward and thready, desperate moans erupted from me. A rush of wetness spread beneath me, and I collapsed against him, kissing his forehead and stroking his horns and hair.

“Goddamn, Millie,” he said, beaming. “You *really* needed that!”

I sat back up, feeling deliciously boneless and relaxed. “I guess I really did.”

He was already looking at his shirt. “Wow, that’s, damn. Damn, damn, damn. I hope the food gets here soon because this wet spot is driving me crazy.”

A warm flush colored my cheeks. “You always make me feel that way, like the hottest anything ever.”

“That’s because you are, princess,” he said and looked up at me atop his gut. His eyes had a starry look to them, brilliant and liquid, and I felt perfect, beautiful, and loved above all else. “Let’s get you down so that the poor delivery driver doesn’t get too jealous of me.”

“You assume he, she, or they would like the ladies,” I joked as I stepped down onto the arm of the couch.


“I assume he or she or they would have a pulse. I assume everyone wants you as much as I do.” He said this more seriously than I had.

“Why?” I laughed, truly puzzled and not making a joke this time.

“Keeps me on my toes. Or maybe the tips of my hooves, I don’t know.” He regarded the wet spot on his belly again with a fond little smile. “I never want to take you for granted, Millie. You bring out the best in me, even though I’m a big dummy from time to time.”

I shrugged and smirked. “From time to time.” It hadn’t been long at all, but a knock on the door announced our first round of delivery orders.

Baz grunted and hauled himself off the couch. “I’ll get it, please don’t put any clothes on.”

“Okay,” I said happily and snuggled under a blanket for modesty. As if the driver would be able to see around Basil waist!

“Oh, wow, thanks mister!” said a young man’s voice. I assumed that he’d just received a huge tip. My big man was always endearingly generous.

“Thank you, have a great night!” Baz turned, bag of delicious Indian food in hand, but the driver stopped him.

“Hey, mister, are you that restaurant guy?”

Baz gave me a look of mild annoyance but managed to keep irritation out of his tone. “That’s probably me, sure.”

“I mean, I… you’re cool! My boyfriend’s an Ogre and, well, it’s just cool to see a famous Occult-human couple.” The poor kid sounded quite young and more than a little embarrassed at the moment.

Basil turned back to the doorway. “Would you guys like to come to Basileus this weekend?”

“Oh! I… well, I’m just a delivery driver and he’s still in college. Maybe someday when you open it for real!”

“No, I mean it.” Baz tilted his head back to me. “Millie, can you bring me my jacket?” I wrapped the blanket around myself like a toga and trotted over with the robe-sized blazer.

He pulled a card out of the inner pocket and handed it to the young man. “Really. Sunday night. It’s on me. We have to stick together.”

“Th-thanks!” boggled the young man. “Gary is going to flip. Thank you so much!”

“It’s my pleasure,” said Baz. I could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s your name?”

“Andrew, uh, Drew.”

“Basil de Gras, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, Mr. de Gras. Have a great night!”

Basil closed the door with his tail while lifting the bag to his nose, inhaling deeply. “The saag smells delicious,” he said.

“I can’t believe you,” I said. I tried –and failed – to keep a straight face. “I thought you were worried about being ruined by Basileus?”

“Eh, I know it won’t *ruin*-ruin me, but yes,” he said, plopping heavily back on the couch, crowding me in my favorite way. “Though what’s the good of having nice things and not sharing them?” He pulled the wax paper bag full of samosas out and held it out to me before taking one for himself.

My big, fat king, gluttonous to the core yet so easily, readily giving with all that he had. I took a samosa and nibbled on it thoughtfully, looking up at my beloved fatty.

He popped a whole samosa in his mouth and chewed it with a surprised and pleased expression. “This is quite good!”


I chuckled and swallowed my own bite. “Did you think I would suggest an inferior restaurant to my finicky darling?”

“No, but… well, I suppose that’s a bit of snobbery leaking through. Mm, great choice,” he said, eating another quickly. “If Basileus wipes my bank account out, this will be my new favorite Indian place.”

“Oof, I better start working overtime to pay for all the food my king needs,” I jested, reaching for the naan still in the bag.

He sighed and his chewing slowed. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “That’s a point I haven’t let myself think about too much,” he said, suddenly bleak-sounding. “You’d love me if I was poor, but would you still love me if I was thinner?”

“Baz, of course I would.” I slipped my arm under his and kissed his bicep. “You’re not just a big, sexy belly to me. You’re a big, sexy nerd!”

He huffed a half-hearted laugh. “Feeding a gluttony demon takes a lot of money. All that family money goes to our stomachs, just to keep hunger pangs away.”

“I think that’s how most people use money, Baz,” I said softly. “You just need more food and thus more money than most. Whatever happens, I’m with you. We’ll figure something out.”

He took a deep, deep breath, his shirt riding up adorably as his belly expanded, and he sighed hugely. “You’re right. I’m wound up tight and everything is a reason to panic.”

I rolled to my knees to kiss his cheek. His soft skin, rough stubble, and plump flesh felt like home under my lips. “All you have to do right now is relax, and get fed by your princess.”

Basil’s face finally relaxed into a true grin and he settled himself against the couch, extending one arm to pull me closer. “That sounds like a wonderful plan.”

I ended up putting clothes on to answer the next four deliveries. Basil polished off the order of Indian food quickly – sparing some for me, of course – and looked forward to sampling from the barbecue joint down the street, the French cafe a few blocks away, the authentic Egyptian place around the corner, and the inauthentic, perfectly greasy American Chinese dive right across the street. It didn’t surprise me that theirs hadn’t been the first delivery, from my window I could see the line out the door, even on a Thursday night.

Watching his shirt ride up with every meal that disappeared into his belly was one of life’s greatest joys. He licked his fingers and smacked his lips over the koshary scooped up with aish baladi and sighed happily through his nose at the flavors of the cassoulet.

Though I fed him steadily with each new dish, he fed me a bite or two off of his plates. It was one of my favorite ways we showed affection. We nourished each other with both food and love, and every morsel of either was precious.

It took a few hours for him to be sated. He was comfortably full, nowhere near the ecstatic overstuffing of the Challenge. His belly bulged out from the hem of his shirt, hitting his belly button right in the middle. The lower half of his gut rested, warm, tender, and infinitely soft between his thick thighs. I couldn’t resist cupping his belly and lightly grazing the trail of hair that wrapped the curve of his tum.

“That's good, princess,” he softly grunted. His head tilted back and rested against the wall. He looked decadently regal and commanding. “Massage my stomach too.”

“As my king wishes,” I replied and slid my hands up over his gut, savoring every inch of blubbery flesh I was lucky enough to touch. He hadn’t gained any more plushness since we’d resumed our relationship. The few extra inches were likely only noticeable to my attentive, adoring eyes.

I couldn’t resist slipping my hands into the hot crease between his moobs and stomach. Gently, firmly, I dug my fingers into the packed swell of his overstuffed stomach. He was sweating lightly after his big meal, and his innate scent was tantalizingly strong, making me yearn to shove my face into his fat pad and inhale every mote of his smell.

A trance fell on me as it often did when I worshipped his body. I could spend hours, days, or weeks just touching him. There was so much to adore! And every limb, every curve, had its own unique charm, and a few small rolls nearby to kiss. The fold on his right bicep was a hair shallower than his left – each needed my attention. The hang of his moobs was just a touch asymmetrical, his armpits had subtly different patterns of creases and rolls around them, his belly even hung a bit lower on his left. I knew he was self-conscious about these perceived flaws, but it made his gorgeous body distinctive and *his*, and made me love him even more.

How much time passed? I had no idea. It was long enough for his stomach to feel less packed, and his belly’s protesting gurgles to quiet down into the steady churn of digestion.

“Ready for bed, my lovely girl?” His low, husky voice drew me from my worshipful reverie. I looked up to see him peering over the rim of his glasses with a smoldering look. I could almost see the fire in his charcoal-dark eyes.

I popped right up, more than ready. “I’ve been ready since you got here.”

Baz rose off the sofa, much more slowly than I had, and with grunts from his belly and his throat as he hoisted a full tank around. “Well, then. Since you’re so ready, you can do all the work.”

“I do anyway when we’re here,” I play pouted, taking his hand and pulling him into the bedroom. He ducked and twisted his head to avoid catching his horns on the doorway, and encountered a touch of resistance trying to squeeze his belly through. Maybe I had fed him more than I realized.

He lay down on the new California king in my bedroom. An Occult king wouldn’t fit through my building’s hallways, so the bed was a bit crowded. I honestly didn’t mind. It just meant I was forced – against my will, of course – to use him as my pillow and occasionally my mattress.

I crawled over his prone form, pulling his sweats down, pushing his shirt up, sighing with delight at every revealed inch of brick-red fat. His warm, creamy musk was inviting and strong, especially when I pushed his belly up to suck his cock. Every scent, sigh, and sight made me hotter and wetter for my big man.

“Stop, princess,” he suddenly barked. I pushed myself up to meet his eyes over his belly, only his were closed. He took great pleasure in making me work from time to time. “Change it up. Ride me.”

Though he couldn’t see it, I grinned up at him. “Sure, big man. Any opinions on how fast or slow? Maybe I could spell out some Morse code in bounces.”

At this sass, he cracked one eye open and gave me a disapproving look that hid his amusement thinly. “You’re going to get in trouble, missy.”

“I doubt it,” I said primly, swinging a leg across his hips. “My king is far too fat and full to punish a little wench like me.”

Basil glowered at me through slitted eyes. “This is a new side of you.” He smirked. “I like it.”