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Blood and Chocolate	By : christinecornell Category: Celebrities - Misc > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 15 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Based on my own predilections or not, this is still a work of fiction. by the way, you will get hungry reading this. Just, just just trust me on this.

Chapter List
- 7
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- 9
It wasn’t the first time that I had Alex over at my place, and I knew it wasn’t going to be the last, either. In fact, I swore the whole thing went on for days at a time: he would come over for something to eat, often for lunch but also for dinner. Sometimes Lou joined us, but he had Angie to worry about and keep the roof over, so it was mostly relegated down to me and Alex.
I completely underestimated him, too: the boy loved to eat, but I had no idea that he loved to eat so much, especially after a week of his visiting me there at my place. I had my worries, especially when I realized that it was merely us there, and as far as I knew, there was a catering place not too far from the recording studio: we were due to make a new album at some point, a new album followed by an extensive tour, and this boy seemed to be in no rush to do either of those things.
Moreover, sometimes, he brought his guitar with him, so he would jam for me a bit while I cooked up some food for both me and him. It wasn’t all hard for me to stomach, but I still had those nagging thoughts in the back of my mind, especially when I finally managed to have Lou over for a round of dinner on a cold night. Angie had gone out of town once more, and I had no plans to stay in at the studio late, and thus, that gave me time to make up a big hot dinner for the three of us in the safety of my own home.
It was one of those nights in the Bay Area where the clouds came in early on and I believed that there would be hard rain that bordered on becoming snow: it was that cold. And thus, I decided on the best thing for the three of us. I had thought of inviting Elle over to join us, but I hadn’t seen her since that first night when I asked her about the matzo balls. I did, however, have the idea to make something a bit similar to that, and that was chicken and dumplings. One of these days, I would have to get down and try my hand at fried chicken and waffles for the three of us, but this was like the precursor to that.
Alex and Lou came on over before I had finished the soup, and thus, we had time to hang out for a bit. The former stood in the kitchen doorway and watched me: those deep eyes that seemed to stare hard and deep into my soul watched me stir the pot. He told me he hadn’t eaten all day, and thus, it had to have been quite the treat for him to watch me. I could hear Lou milling about in the next room, but I paid very little attention, that is until I heard him gasp at something.
“Whoa,” Lou breathed out.
“What?” Alex backed away a bit from the side of the doorway as if to let him into the room.
But Lou leaned back from the edge of the counter all so he could have a better look at Alex’s ass. I tapped the mesh spoon on the edge of the pot, and then I watched him.
“What is it, boy?” I asked him as if he was my dog, which brought a laugh out of Alex.
“You look like you’ve gained about—five, ten pounds, at the very least, Alex,” he told him. Alex then gaped at me.
“Uh-oh,” he blurted out. “Eric, do you have a scale?”
“I do, yeah. It's in the bathroom.”
He ducked away from there, and Lou and I looked at one another, slightly concerned. I hadn’t noticed anything at that point, so it made me wonder what was going on with him. I set down the spoon and followed him down the hallway to the lit-up bathroom.
“Ah, man,” he groaned. I stood there in the bathroom door with my hands on the door frame. He stood there, barefoot, on top of the scale, and with his arms held out before him as if he was walking a tightrope. Indeed, I noticed that his waist seemed a little bit fuller than normal. He was still very slim and slender there, but I could tell that he had gained a little weight from all the times that he had come on over to my place and indulged in my cooking. It was the tiniest bit of weight—in fact, I probably wouldn’t even have noticed walking past him—but it was there, nevertheless.
“What’s the matter?” I asked him.
“I gained six pounds,” he told me. He rested those long, lanky, powerful hands upon his otherwise still flat stomach. He didn’t look any different, but the look of disgust on his face told me a different story. He stepped off the scale and ran his fingers through his jet-black hair, the side with the little gray plume no less.
“I can’t eat tonight,” he said to me with a shake of his head.
“What? Alex, you have got to eat. You straight-up told me that you hadn’t really eaten all day long, either. You must be starving.”
“But I can’t,” he insisted. “I'll gain weight.”
“Seriously? Alex, you’re talking to the king of eating and gaining weight.” I rested my hands on my stomach. “But see—thing is, I don’t really give a shit. It's going to happen one way or the other. You eat some, you gain some accordingly.”
I rested a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon. Dinner's almost ready.”
He sighed through his nose and he followed me out of the bathroom, and I switched off the light behind him. I let him walk ahead of me, too.
He did look good with a slightly fuller waist: if anything, he looked nourished, as if he was eating well.
But when Lou served us our bowls full of the chicken and dumplings soup, he picked at it as if it was the worst thing. Indeed, he barely finished that first helping, and at that point, it had to have been stone cold.
“I can’t,” he confessed with a shake of his head.
“Alex, you’ve barely eaten,” Lou pointed out.
“Yeah, I know,” Alex scoffed. “I’ve had enough.”
“Bullshit,” I quipped.
“It’s not bullshit.”
“It is,” I insisted. “I remember how ravenous you were a couple of nights ago with that soup that I made, and more so when we went out to lunch together. You eat like it’s going out of style, Alex.”
He shifted his weight and leaned back against the couch cushion. He sat there with the plate rested upon his lap and the fork underneath his index finger as if he was genuinely on the verge of feeling genuinely full.
“Don’t make us force-feed you,” I warned him.
“Us?” Lou raised an eyebrow at me.
“Just trust me on this, Lou,” I whispered to him.
“I’m right here,” Alex declared with a straight face. He set the bowl down on the coffee table in between the three of us, and he leaned back against the couch with his hands folded over his stomach. Those extra six pounds gave his stomach the smallest bump at the lower part: he had a way to go before he was as thick as me or Chuck or even a big, round Buddha statue. He had barely gained enough weight to look a little bit soft around the waist.
“We will force-feed you,” I said.
“Oh, c’mon,” Alex sneered. “You wouldn’t do that.”
Lou looked over at him with both eyebrows raised and his lips pursed.
“There’s two of us and one of him, Eric,” he said without taking his eyes off Alex.
“Come on,” he repeated, that time in a lower voice.
Lou lunged for him first. Alex put up his hands first, but Lou gripped onto his wrists and then pinned him down to the couch. I picked up the spoon and scooped up a helping of the soup. It wasn’t matzo soup, but it did have a fair amount of fat mixed in with the chicken and the amount of butter I had put into the dumplings. A spoonful of soup, with some dumpling and a bit of chicken mixed in, and I was going to make the airplane move in.
Easier said than done, because Alex writhed and wriggled underneath Lou’s grip: those drummer hands gripped down on him, and Lou pushed him down onto the couch to keep him down.
“Let me go!” he exclaimed, and he jerked his head away from my standpoint. “Let me go! Let me go, damn it!”
“Hold still,” I commanded.
Alex jerked his head towards me and then back away again. Lou obviously struggled but there was nothing I could do other than feed him myself.
“Hold still!”
“He’s so fussy,” Lou quipped.
“I’m not fussy!” Alex exclaimed.
“Lou, pin him down with your right and then open his mouth with your left,” I said in a single breath. I held one hand underneath the head of the spoon, and I blew on the soup.
Lou let go of him and then pressed his forearm against his chest. He used his left elbow as part of the pinning; he held onto Alex’s chin to hold him in place. Alex pinched his eyes shut but it was futile: Lou opened his mouth for me, and I stuck the spoon inside of there. Lou made him close his mouth, and he tilted his head back to swallow.
Alex gasped as if he had just been underwater instead.
“So fussy,” Lou quipped again.
“Very fussy, my goodness,” I added as I reached for a second spoonful.
“No! No! No!” I blew on the soup again and the same thing all over again. Lou and I were done for the time being, so all we cared about was giving Alex what he was due.
It wasn’t perfect, as I had dribbled some of that chicken broth onto Alex’s lap, but I managed to do it. Lou and I force-fed him that chicken and dumpling soup whether he liked it or not.
Once we reached the end of the bowl, Lou let go of him, and Alex leaned his head back against the top of the couch, out of breath and with his face all red.
“Are you okay?” I asked him.
His chest rose and fell as he glared up at me. I could see it in his eyes, and it wasn’t anger, even though his face told me a different story.
“Don’t make me get a second bowl,” I warned him. He looked over at Lou, who raised his eyebrows at him as if he sent out a warning as well.
“No, god—guys—I can’t,” Alex begged us with a shake of his head. “I can’t do it.”
“Says the guy who was more than happy to eat two helpings of rice and beans with his burritos the other night,” I scoffed at him, and Alex closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“God damn it,” he muttered.
“Oh, karma’s a bitch,” Lou declared in a singsong voice. I picked up the bowl, and I doubled back into the kitchen for Alex’s second helping.
Six pounds, ha! That was nothing to me.
I picked up the ladle, and I scooped up a few of those dumplings followed by the pieces of tender chicken, and then I followed it up with some of the broth, but then I had an idea. It was crazy, and if anything, I foresaw it making Alex resist me even more. But I added more broth, followed by more dumplings and some more chicken as well: I filled up that bowl until the soup itself nearly reached the rim of the bowl.
I thought about giving him some more French bread, but I decided not to.
Careful not to spill, I padded back into the room, and I resisted the urge to smile like a devil at the two of them there on the couch.
“Remember, you resist this—we force-feed you again,” I told him, and I rested the bowl upon his lap. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of it.
“Jesus, Eric, did you give me the whole pot?” he demanded, mortified.
“Yeah, man, did you just give him the rest of the whole batch?” Lou added with a chuckle.
“Nah—there’s a bunch left over,” I promised him nonchalantly. “Eat it up, big fella.”
Alex swallowed, and I walked away to pack in the rest of the soup. It was best to let him eat, especially since Lou was right there right next to him. I couldn’t help but feel somewhat satisfied with myself, even with my own hang-ups about the whole entire thing. He loved that soup, and thus, I wanted him to have more of it. More of that rich, full desire deep inside of him.
I knew what he wanted, even though I wasn’t all that good with emotions myself.
Six pounds. The boy gained six pounds.
There was a part of me that wanted it to be sixteen pounds.
It was such an odd thought that I had dismissed it at first, especially when I got to packing it all into the container.
Six pounds. The boy gained six pounds. I wanted it to be sixteen pounds.
I wanted him to gain more weight. There was something rather extravagant about watching Lou pin him down and then I hand-fed him the chicken and dumplings. Something about it sent a chill up my spine.
I wanted to do that more and more with him, to tap into those desires on the part of all three of us, and I knew that it had to do with that number on the scale. I wanted him heavier, bigger, fuller... it would please me. And as far as I knew, it would please Lou, too.
But I also wondered about him, too, as to how he would react to it.
I had tapped into that somewhat with the matzo soup.
Surely, there had to be something else in his culture to make him feel like that, and to make me feel like that as well. Something where we could meet in the middle, at the meeting of Alex’s middle.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Blood and Chocolate