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Barry was hungry. Scratch that, he was absolutely starving. He needed some food immediately or he was probably going to starve to death shortly.
“Bruuuuce!” he called, making sure there was a good amount of whine in his voice. He’d learned that it worked well against his boyfriend. “I’m going to starve!”
“You’re not going to starve,” Bruce called back, and Barry could practically feel the eye roll in his voice. “You had two burgers an hour ago. You can wait five more minutes for the spaghetti to be done.”
Barry frowned, but slumped back into the extremely cushy couch, one hand going absentmindedly to his pregnant belly. He wished he could just run out and get some food himself, but unfortunately that wasn’t really an option in his current state. His speed had slowed considerably in his third trimester, and neither he nor Bruce was willing to risk him hurting himself or the baby by trying to run anywhere.
He knew Bruce would be more than willing to go out and get him the chocolate shakes and apple pies he was craving at the moment if he asked, but he didn’t want to do that either. Bruce had given him so much — Friends! Love! Now a baby! — and was still giving him so much. It didn’t seem right to ask for more, especially something so unimportant as whatever food he happened to be craving at any given time. He’d never been very picky before. No reason to start now.
“Dinner is served.”
Barry perked up immediately, pushing himself up so he was sitting straighter. These cushions were just so soft he sometimes felt like he was being eaten by them, and being pregnant really didn’t help with that. He smiled widely as Bruce came in, a huge bowl of pasta in his hands, which he set on the coffee table in front of Barry. Simple meal, lots of carbs. Exactly the kind of food he liked. And the smell was fantastic.
Bruce sat down on the couch next to him, one arm snaking around his back, but Barry hardly noticed. He’d already dived into the pasta, practically inhaling it. At least his speed in eating hadn’t slowed too much.
“Are you still breathing?” Bruce asked in that deadpan way where Barry couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious. He slurped up one last noodle, turning his head in time to see Bruce rolling his eyes, a fond smile on his face.
“Thanks for the food,” Barry said, heartfelt, because if there really was ever a way to get to his heart, it was through food. Bruce already had his heart though, so this was just bonus.
He leaned over for a kiss, which Bruce indulged him in easily, like he always did. Barry was glad Bruce didn’t seem to be bothered by his probably garlicky breath. Though he shouldn’t, seeing as he was the one to make the pasta for him in the first place.
When Bruce pulled away sometime later, they were both breathing harder than normal. Barry could feel arousal humming through his veins, especially with the way Bruce’s hands had migrated down to his waist, fingertips trailing lightly up and down over the swell of his belly. He suddenly wished he could get up enough speed to whisk them both to the bedroom. Not that his legs felt strong enough at the moment anyway, shaky with want as he was.
It was a good thing Bruce was strong enough to carry him.
They ended up in the bedroom slower than Barry would have liked, but he could tell Bruce was going as fast he could. It made him smile, Bruce — rich, famous, powerful, a real hero — wanting him so much. Good thing it was mutual.
Bruce laid Barry down on the bed, careful as always of his pregnant belly, and leaned over him for a kiss. It was a little awkward with having to leave so much space between them, their bodies barely able to press together because of the bump, but they made it work. One of Bruce’s hands drifted down between Barry’s legs, giving him something to thrust against even as Bruce rutted against this thigh as best he could.
“Bruce, please,” Barry gasped out.
It was a good thing Bruce knew him well enough to know what he wanted, because he certainly wasn’t sure. His mind was on fire with desperate arousal, his hormones surging higher and higher with every touch of Bruce’s body against his. He could barely do anything but groan in disappointment when Bruce pulled away from him, but only enough to grab the lube that lived on their bedside table.
Bruce prepped him quickly, ignoring the breathy pleas that he couldn’t stop from tumbling from his mouth. Not that he would if he could. Bruce had told him once that he loved it when Barry babbled, which was odd since everyone he’d ever known had said the opposite, but he certainly wasn’t going to argue. Maybe it was just that love made you a little silly sometimes.
“Fuck,” Barry moaned when Bruce finally slipped in. Bruce echoed the sentiment, resting his forehead against Barry’s for a moment as they both tried to breath through the adjustment period, their breath mingling. “Fuck. Move, please.”
And Bruce did, thrusting with abandon while still somehow being so careful with Barry’s changed body. It made Barry feel all warm inside with happiness, though the feeling was soon pushed aside by the sheer need to come. Bruce seemed to sense it because he grinned, teeth showing, and just thrust all the harder. One of his hands sneaked around to pump Barry’s cock, and that was it.
He came, groaning, eyes screwed shut, back arching as much as it could these days. Vaguely, he heard Bruce groaning as well, and a few moments later, he felt Bruce’s other hand clamp tight on his hip as he came as well. Barry’s eyes were still closed, his breathing coming hard, when Bruce pulled out with a soft squelch and collapsed to the side.
“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked a little while later. One of his hands had drifted to dance invisible patterns on Barry’s belly as he often did lately.
Barry smiled, feeling that warmth welling back up, infusing his body with a pleasant, sated glow. “I feel great.”
They lay like that for a while longer, both comfortable and more than content to just bask in the quiet afterglow. Barry was starting to feel a little sticky with sweat and come, but that was a small annoyance that was easily ignored. He didn’t even realize until his stomach growled, startling them both, that he was hungry.
Bruce huffed out a laugh and pulled himself up to a seated position. “What do you want to eat?” he asked.
“Well,” Barry started, then stopped, wondering if he should ask for something Bruce would have to go out and get. He decided Bruce could always say no, though they both knew he wouldn’t. “Some chocolate milkshakes and those flaky apple pies I like?”
“Alright,” Bruce replied immediately. He leaned down to drop a kiss on Barry’s forehead, making him smile. “Three shakes and a dozen pies coming up.”
Barry watched as Bruce pulled his clothes back on, then went to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean Barry up before he left. Bruce was nothing if not thorough, which he appreciated. A few minutes later, Bruce was out the door to buy Barry some food and Barry was curled on the bed, one hand absently rubbing his belly as he waited.
He was really looking forward to that food. And having Bruce back in their bed with him.That was good too.