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It's ridiculous, that's what it is. Tears well in his eyes as he angrily wipes them away, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down. His blue eyes glare in the mirror at himself, what he's become over the past few years. But he didn't think it had gotten that bad just yet. Why won't the pants just fucking fit already?
Ice growls under his breath, cheeks wet once more as he marinades in his failures. Fingers (too frail, too scarred, too old) grip the waistband of his jeans as tight as they can, yanking the pants up his thighs (too big, much too big). Finally. A sigh of relief escapes, step one accomplished.
The denim suffocates his skin, clinging to him as tight as possible while straining to the point of tearing. He's sure underwear would've never fit under them, his boxer briefs crumpled in the corner from where he threw them earlier in a wave of frustration. Maybe it looks hot that way, somehow Maverick can always figure out when he's going commando without being there to see him dress. It always gets his blood pumping, hopefully it'll seem intentional.
Now for the next Everest to summit- the waistband. Ice sucks in his gut (enormous- he needs to go on a diet) and tugs the sides of them together, arms shaking with the strain of holding them steady enough to button. Christ he's a mess- no wonder Maverick was distant lately. He's much better than whatever the fuck Ice is right now. His husband would never fight a battle with his jeans much less be on the losing side.
A few moments later the denim slides free from his grasp and returns to the edges of his groin. Another few tears break free of the dam holding them all back before he can seal the gaps again, glaring daggers down at his jeans. Normally, he'd go get another pair of pants, but Maverick insisted he wear them tonight. And seeing as these are the only pair he owns since unlike his husband he's got a fashion sense, they have to be on him in… shit. Five minutes.
He can do this. He's a four star Admiral, nothing's broken him yet and nothing ever will. He can win a battle against a pair of pants for fucks sake. Determination flows through his veins as he sucks in his gut again (when did he let himself go so much?), tugging at the jeans once more. They're going to get on him dammit. He won't take failure as an option.
His arms shake under the pressure and his fingers cramp, frantically trying to shove the button through the slit on the other side. When did those slits get so small anyway? No matter how hard he tries to keep himself steady, the denim slides free again, the sweat coating his hands not helping matters at all.
And isn't that absolutely pathetic. Four star Admiral, the famous Iceman, defeated by a fucking pair of jeans. Making him sweat and dance and cry just to get them over his enormous thighs and stomach. To think he was once proud of his figure, the tight little hips everyone loved to grab and abs to make all the guys and girls swoon. How they'd ridicule him if they saw him now.
Four minutes. He's going to do this.
Ice grits his teeth and steels himself once more, wiping his tears from his cheeks then drying his hands on his thighs. Sucking in his stomach as much as he physically can, he stands up ramrod straight- what a throwback to his active duty days. Praying to whatever deities will listen that the waistband will just close already.
Yes! He fights the urge to dance around in accomplishment, knowing it's very undignified (and he doesn't trust the button to hold up to it. Fuck he's fat-). He grabs the zipper, sucking in his gut again to get it up. His heart sinks as soon as he takes a breath- it falls halfway down the teeth. But it's as good as it's going to get. He prays it'll hold there.
At least his sweater will cover it for the most part. Of all times to go commando, of course it's when his fly could hang open at any moment and show everyone what it's hiding away. But it'll do for now, Maverick's going to come upstairs any moment.
One last check in the mirror to make sure everything's in place and- oh. Oh shit. The tears well up again no matter how hard he battles them away, streaming down his cheeks until he manages to wipe them away. He lifts his sweater a bit to check what the jeans look like, to make sure it's not too hideous.
In the mirror, it's grotesque. A pale, ugly, flabby hippopotamus that vaguely resembles a raw chicken shoved into some denim bursting at the seams and about to explode into a sight no one wants to see. Ever. Not even for a billion dollars. And to think he thought he was being sexy. From what he's seeing, Ice is shocked he got laid at all in the past few months.
Then again… Maverick had stopped initiating so much sex lately. And usually seemed too busy to partake whenever Ice felt a bit horny. Oh god how long has this been going on- is this the last straw? Maybe he's going to be served divorce papers tonight, that's why he was supposed to dress so casually. That must be it, he's lost any hint of attractiveness and is going to be paying the price. Maybe if he just had a few more weeks, he could lose some of the weight and Maverick wouldn't break up with him.
"Holy shit-"
Ice whirls around, eyes wide in horror that only grows as the jeans fail him completely. The button flies off the front and hits Maverick in the stomach, zipper falling down and sides falling apart as his pale flab expands and hides any hint of blue away. The only mercy being the shock causing his tears to dry up.
"I-" his voice fails him. What can he do to explain this? There's no good explanation for how repulsive he is. "Mav…"
In a short few moments Maverick crosses the room, stopping a foot away and raking the green eyes he fell so deeply in love with over his horrendous figure. Ice immediately drops the sweater down, tugging it as low as it'll go to try and hide. The mortification only grows when he spots the strip of pale white skin peeking out the bottom no matter how hard he pulls.
"You…"
Ice can't breathe. Time stands still around him as he desperately clings to the last moments of relative joy before the insults start coming. Telling him what he already knows, how revolting he's become, that the pudge sitting around his middle and clinging to his thighs and ass are disgusting, that the man he fell in love with is hidden underneath miles of blubber. He looks down, too weak to meet the eyes of his (soon to be ex) husband.
A hand cups his chin, and Ice waits for the blow to land. What he doesn't expect is to be brought in for a kiss. He's sure it's a terrible one all things considered, his cheeks and lips moist with tears as he stiffens like a board against Maverick. All too soon it's over.
"Fuck darling, you're so hot-" Maverick sounds wrecked. That can't be right.
Except there's a bulge that definitely wasn't there when Maverick walked in the room pushed flush against his flabby thigh. What the fuck is going on? "Mav-"
A kiss cuts him off, a moan absorbed by his lips as the bulge rolls on his thigh. "You have no idea how much I want to devour you right now dear. I can't believe I got so lucky."
That's not right. That can't be right. How can anyone find him attractive? Much less a man who saw him in his prime, who fell in love with the man with something so far removed from who he's become? Ice can't help the confused whimper that leaves his lips, confusion clouding his blue eyes as he desperately searches for an answer.
Luckily Maverick takes pity on him. He pulls back, lust written across every aspect of his face. And Ice has gotten phenomenal at reading that in the past decades. But that doesn't answer his question. He's so repulsive. Especially to someone who hasn't aged a day, who still has the abs and ass that people swooned over all those years ago. What kind of cruel joke is this?
"Honey, I adore you. You were hot as fuck in '86 and you're hot as fuck today. No one can get me going like you do- I don't think I've gotten this hard this fast in ages."
No, that doesn't compute whatsoever. This goes against all the laws Ice knows (and he knows thousands), an anomaly if he's ever heard one. Him and hot. He's Ice for a reason, and he's got the flabby raw chicken look to go with how antithetical the two words are.
The arousal in Maverick hasn't faded, who knows how. Ice doesn't think he's been softer in his life- between his legs or on his body. Slowly, like he's reaching for a feral cat, his husband reaches for his stomach. And of course Ice lets him. He's not been able to deny his husband anything in the past and he's not going to start now.
The hand tenderly (much more than someone revolting like him deserves) pushes the sweater up, revealing all his shame. Ice wants to melt, to sink into the floor never to be seen again. Because he's too much, way too much and no one in their right mind could enjoy the sight in front of them. Not the pale gut spewing over his wide open jeans, the way the jeans sink down the misshapen ass, the gross flesh tube hanging between chunky thighs, the stretch marks ripping open his skin. It's horrible. Something out of an alien movie where he's the monster.
"You're beautiful. I adore you Tom Kazansky-Mitchell."
Tears well in Ice's eyes again, and he blinks them away before they can fall. "You don't mean that."
"Hey. Look at me." Maverick forces Ice's eyes up to his own, intensity shining through reserved only for the hardest dogfights. "I mean every word of it. I always have and I always will. I didn't just marry you for your body, but I fucking love it so much baby, you're the eighth wonder of the world. Apple of my eye, love of my life, all that Hallmark shit."
"I… you… that's not right…" Ice shakes his head, refusing to accept the words as true. Because it's not. They're nice to hear, but he knows Maverick doesn't mean them one bit. Who could love someone as monstrous as him?
"I promise darling. Every last word of it is true. I swear it on flying, on everything I hold close to my heart. I'm even more in love with you now compared to when we first fell."
Another kiss, this one even more passionate than before. Somehow Ice manages to gather himself together enough to kiss back, confused as ever. But if it's one last romp before their divorce, well, he'll take it. He'll take anything. Pathetic, he knows, but he's always been pathetic when it comes to Maverick.
Steady hands push him back towards the bed then onto it when the back of his knees hits the mattress. Well, they try to at least. Ice isn't sure which is stronger, his resolve or the jeans around his knees refusing to let them bend. Either way he stands awkwardly in front of the bed, curling in on himself to hide the gut.
"But… you wanted me to get dressed in jeans, you had something planned…"
"Oh that? Don't worry about that gorgeous. It can wait. Getting it through your stubborn head that you really are as handsome as I see you is much more important."
Ice fights down a sigh. Of course Maverick is as infuriating as ever, but it can't hurt to indulge him. To get a few moments before he comes to his senses and breaks up with him for good. So against his better judgment, he agrees. He's ignored the rational part of his brain so many times when it comes to his husband, what's one more?
"Arms up beautiful, I want to see every inch of my husband." Maverick orders, and naturally, Ice complies. Without thinking, his arms raise. The sweater does too, showing the layers of pudge underneath. It catches on his boobs (that's what they are- boobs. He's got enough fat on them to need a bra), turning his face bright red.
Callused yet gentle hands trail over his tits, and Ice fights each and every one of his instincts screaming at him to hide. Push Maverick away and cover up since no one wants to see much less touch him when he looks like this. But seeing the dedication in his husband's eyes, he can't deny him this.
They make their way over the bulging stomach he has, caressing it with more reverence than he thought possible. At once Ice closes his eyes, knowing when he sees the revolution in Maverick's eyes he'll break into so many pieces nothing could ever put him back together. It scares him how much he relies on the other man, but he knows he'd never have it any other way.
"Oh honey…" It should be disgusted. Somehow it's full of adoration. "You're the most beautiful thing I've had the pleasure of laying eyes on."
The sweater gets taken over his head and chills run along Ice's spine. Not just from the cold, in fact it's rather warm in the room. But the way he can feel Maverick's stare, baring his soul to his husband in his most vulnerable state. The familiar hands trail across the chub, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Perfect."
That's a lie. But Ice doesn't have the courage to call him on it. He sucks in a breath, hoping that Maverick won't notice. He just can't have so much of him hanging out, not like this, when it shows every way he's failed himself in the past few years. But the hands are still gentle, and inexplicably, a finger traces a heart into the skin.
"Don't hide from me darling, please don't do that to me. I want to see you in all your glory, I love you so fucking much. I'm so glad there's more of you for me to love."
A mischievous glint shines in Maverick's eyes, and Ice isn't sure what it means for him, but his stomach flutters with anticipation. A Pavlovian response ingrained into him from decades of following his wingman turned husband with blind trust, and this is no different. Even as his rational brain tries to get him to pull back.
"Remember our wedding night love?" What a stupid question, and Ice makes sure his look reflects that.
Maverick laughs, and Ice can't help but grin. "Then how about we have a repeat of that dearest?"
What the ever loving fuck. Their wedding night was one of the best nights of sex Ice ever had, hours of exploring and kissing every inch of each other until they knew each other better than they knew themselves. Why the fuck does Maverick want to repeat that now, when he's so much more disfigured than he used to be?
"Are you sure? We can just turn the lights out or-"
A hand covers his mouth, fiery eyes staring him down. Ice refuses to shrink. Maverick shakes his head, "no love, we're doing this. I… I had a whole date planned, picnic dinner on the beach, romantic gifts, the works. I wanted to sweep you off your feet pretty boy, shout to the world that I got the best man to ever walk the Earth. Then I would take you home and ravish you, it seems we're just skipping a few steps."
Never before has Ice felt such a fire burn in his cheeks, jaw dropping in stunned silence. That's… so that's why he'd been so distant. Maverick never was good at planning things, so he needed to pay all that attention to what he was doing. Tears spring in his eyes, for the first time that evening not brought about by frustration. This time it's overwhelming relief- he wasn't planning a divorce.
"Fuck I love you Maverick Mitchell-Kazansky." His voice trembles. His voice never trembles, but somehow the emotions Maverick is able to draw from him even decades later makes it so.
"So is that a yes?" The smirk is back, the same one he fell frosted tips over heels with in '86. The one saying he knows the answer but wants to drag it out, get full confirmation he's correct. Ice hates that he loves it.
Ice rolls his eyes, a choked laugh escaping his throat. "That's a yes you menace."
"Good boy." Maverick purrs, still covering his stomach (too big too much too ugly) in little hearts. Ice doesn't deserve them, but if it makes his husband happy, he can tolerate them. No matter how humiliating it feels. He wants to melt into the ground never to be seen again.
Fingers find their way to the jeans waistband, and Ice fights the urge to bat them away. Not wanting his husband to notice the softness obscured by them. Seeing the denim sides hanging off his fat is different than feeling, and he doesn't want that to be what pushes Maverick over the edge into divorce. To realize how bad of an idea this was. But somehow they keep their tender touch, peeling the fabric down his huge thighs.
Each time it gets stuck on a swell of fat Ice wants to cry. And it happens a lot. It was a struggle getting them on, but he didn't anticipate this trouble taking them off. Then again, it's always difficult to get a shrink wrapped mattress free of its plastic casing. He should've lotioned his thighs before this, maybe it would make this whole ordeal a bit less painful.
Somehow Maverick doesn't show any disgust, Ice isn't sure when he learned to be such a good actor. There's a lot to be disgusted by. The stretch marks continue, blemishes to the chunky thighs, no way to make them look flattering. Especially not with how pink and damp they are from the denim chafing while he tried to put them on. They're horrendous really, Ice wants to push his husband away before he realizes.
Never one to give up, Maverick manages to get the jeans down past Ice's knees. Luckily, the rest of the way is much easier to remove, barely taking a few seconds. Ice steps out of the newly-relaxed denim, eternally grateful the fabric didn't bust at the seams. And that he didn't fall on his face. Though he's not sure what that means, that he's gotten so used to the way too much fat that he can maneuver with relative ease.
Maverick rises to his feet, eyes going over every inch of Ice's newly exposed body. He wants to jump into a crematorium. It's horrendous, and Ice wants to save the man he loves from the torture that is trying to mantain an erection staring over his pudgy frame. But the bulge in his husband's pants never diminishes, and the burning passion in his eyes never fades. Maverick was always too good to be true, and this is further proof.
"You're gorgeous darling, I can't believe you're mine. You're too good to be true." Ice can practically see how his husband drools at the sight of him, and if nothing else it's further proof Maverick's had a few too many head injuries. "I'm going to worship you like you deserve."
Those skillful fingers (compared to his own fat sausages) push Ice back onto the bed which creaks under his weight. For a split second his eyes widen in horror, praying the bed frame doesn't give up on supporting his gargantuan weight. But it holds firm, letting Maverick continue with his absurd plan. Then again, Ice should know that's all his husband can come up with. He doesn't want to acknowledge the small part of himself that hopes it works.
In an instant Maverick's on top of him, and Ice wants to cry. Seeing is different than feeling, and he knows the difference between the two may be enough to push his husband away for good. Except for the broken moan coming from the other man paired with the hands squeezing the whale blubber at his belly- it's an anomaly. It has to be. His husband was always an impossible one.
A tender kiss presses to his lips and Ice instantly kisses back, tears welling in his eyes at the sheer devotion radiating off him. It's awful, going to get his hopes up for nothing, but he can't stop himself from falling even further in love than he ever thought himself capable of. He'll shatter into a million pieces (more like a billion with all his fat) when Maverick breaks up with him over it.
"Perfect…" Maverick whispers, awe seeping into his voice as the kisses trail down his jaw (triple chin) to his neck. Somehow the adoration never faces, and Ice doesn't know how his husband is such a good actor. It's insane, truly, he's sure even the best actor in the universe couldn't keep such a performance up in bed with his disgusting ass. Maverick deserves an Oscar.
Ice isn't sure how long he lingers on the thoughts, but the next thing he knows, Maverick's sitting on his knees and kissing over his… well his tits. His cheeks light up bright red hearing the slutty groan leaving his husband's mouth, fueling the bulge rubbing along his thigh. That sinful tongue of his swirls around his nipple and against his better judgment, he lets out a broken moan. "Maverick…"
A shiteating grin looks up at him, eyes shining with too much adoration that Ice doesn't deserve. "You like that handsome? Because I do. I love your chest so much. It's perfect to sleep on and just the right size for me to love."
No, no that's not right. His boobs are much too big, no man should ever have anything like this without some hormone imbalance. They belong on a girl, not on him. Maybe that's what Maverick's been missing, the touch of a woman. This is some sort of way to get that longing out without cheating on him, though Ice couldn't blame him for that. Unfortunately, the cock between his legs says otherwise. "...so much." Maverick's on his other tit now, and Ice is concerned how much time he lost. What is his maniac of a husband saying?
But his mouth is too full to answer, lovingly sucking on his nipple and leaving pink rings where his mouth was all over his tits. Ice doesn't know what to think anymore, this is all too strange. He tries to push down the sparks of pleasure running along his spine at the marks, he doesn't deserve them for letting himself go so much. There shouldn't be any pleasure to come from this.
"God I want to put you in some lingerie, what do you say darling? I bet these would look fantastic in some blue lace, I would cream my pants just at the sight of it." Maverick groans, grinding the bulge in his pants against Ice's huge thigh. "I love them so much dear, just like I adore every single inch of you."
Well that's certainly a lot of inches. Too many for anyone, especially not his tiny, perfectly in shape husband.
With dedication only seen for his planes and motorcycles in the past, Ice watches as his husband covers every single cell of his boobs in kisses. His eyes tear up at the outpour of love, none of which he deserves. His tits are horrendous, there's no excuse for them. But… but maybe they would look good in lingerie. He could stop by Victoria's Secret and pick something up; they're big enough to fit in a real bra. No, Maverick's lying. Nothing could make them look anything more than abhorrent.
Not even the pleasure coming from the kisses can get him hard, humiliation pressing into every bit of his bones and leaving him soft between his legs. Ice's cheeks burn as Maverick realizes this, moving himself down between his legs to get to his gargantuan stomach. Sadness and disappointment shine through in his eyes, and Ice wants to die. He can't believe he made his husband feel like that.
"I'm sorry this was a terrible idea you can go and forget everything that's happened and divorce me an-" Ice's eyes widen, a harsh kiss pressed to his lips thoroughly shutting him up. He can't resist the decades of conditioning to melt into it, letting his husband's tongue and lips take him out of his head for a few blissful seconds.
"No, you shut up Tom Kazansky-Mitchell. I'm never going to divorce you. I'm sad that you can't see how gorgeous you are, that you still don't believe how much I want to smother you in love and how close to cumming in my pants like a goddamn teenager I am just looking at you." Maverick stares into his eyes, the green passionate as ever. "I haven't been this aroused in ages."
His husband's hand grabs his wrist, and Ice is helpless to follow his direction. Grabbing onto his crotch, his eyes widen as he feels the wet spot seeping through to the front of his jeans. "Feel this my love? This is because of you, I'm so hard I can barely think and it's all because of how fucking handsome and sexy and Earth-shatteringly hot you are."
A pathetic whine tears free from his lips, and Ice feels his cock twitch. A satisfied look crosses Maverick's face, hunger in them only intensifying. "Good… Are you going to finally listen to me? I want you . I don't care how much weight you gained or anything like that, I adore you and nothing's changing that Tom."
With that, his glorious idiotic husband sinks down further, pressing his lips against the swell of his belly. Christ Ice wants to die, it's practically a pregnant woman's belly at this point. Except he doesn't have the excuse of something growing in his stomach other than the never ending shame. Just like that, he's soft again, blood rushing from his cock as fast as possible.
Somehow none of that deters Maverick, the man on a mission with how passionately he's leaving kisses. If he weren't so horrified Ice would laugh, his husband's practically making out with the flab clinging to his once-toned abs. But Maverick keeps grinding into his leg, the bulge never getting smaller, and Ice can still feel the wet patch getting larger. What deal did he make with the devil to deserve this?
Until Maverick's hips stop and he pulls back from his chub, most of it still untouched. Ice closes his eyes, bracing for the harsh words sure to come. His husband taking everything back, realizing that he's finally become too much.
"Love? Hey, darling. Open those gorgeous eyes for me, okay?" How can Ice deny him this one easy request? He can't. So he opens them anyway, against all better thought screaming not to. "There we go…"
The love still hasn't faded. Ice's heart skips a beat, in utter disbelief about that. "I had to stop because I was going to cum in my pants." A quiet laugh, "you really don't know how fucking hot you are. I wasn't going to let the fun end yet, so I had to stop myself."
Oh. That's a nice lie. Except when Ice looks closer, he sees the flush running down into his husband's shirt, the arousal burning in his eyes, and he can feel the twitches in his thighs. Jesus fucking christ Maverick was telling the truth.
That's… what. Ice's brain short circuits, the blood rushing down to his cock. Not fully hard yet, but halfway there, much more interested than he has been all night. Maverick beams at him, "that's it darling… It's true. I'm using all my restraint for the decade not fucking you right now, but I promised myself I wouldn't stop until you know how loved you are. And I don't think you're quite there yet."
For once he's not itching to cover up as he feels his husband's gaze on him. It's every bit as hungry as it was back when he was in his prime, and his heart melts at the thought. He can't believe how lucky he is. The least he can do for Maverick is let him look, so he lays there, basking in the heat of his eyes.
Eons later Maverick starts moving again, lowering himself back against his body. Ice's breath catches in his throat as more tender kisses map their way over his stomach, in some irregular pattern he can't keep track of. But then he pulls back. Oh no, why did he pull back?
"Go on angel, look at that gorgeous tummy." Ice shakes his head- he can't do it. "Please my love, I need you to look."
Tears well in his eyes but Maverick refuses to back down, giving his hand a gentle squeeze and silently lending him strength. He takes a deep breath, and Ice forces them down. A teary laugh escapes as he realizes what he did, disbelief and adoration radiating off him in waves. A heart came to life under his husband's lips and teeth, and Ice wants to marry him again for it. Ten thousand times over.
"What did I do to deserve you…" Ice whispers in awe, tearing his eyes away to look at his husband. "You're too good to be true."
"Put up with my shit when I do dumb things." Maverick shrugs, pride clear in every inch of his short body. "But you're the one too good to be true angel."
"So you admit they're dumb." Ice grins, latching onto the words to stop himself from bursting into tears.
All of a sudden pain radiates from the middle of the heart and Ice gasps, back arching as he can't tell whether he wants to push into it or pull away. He looks down, giving his husband an incredulous look, "did you just bite me-"
"That's beside the point darling." Maverick responds with his signature shiteating grin, "don't focus on irrelevant things."
Ice shakes his head in the ever familiar fond exasperation that only decades with his husband can produce, "naturally."
"There you go love." Maverick dives back in, pressing gentle kisses across each area of his stomach. It brings tears to Ice's eyes, he still can't believe how good to him his husband is being. So much more than he deserves.
Another few hickies get sucked into his blubber before Maverick sits back, letting out a disappointed sigh. Ice shocks himself that the first thought racing through his mind isn't about how his fat must've finally upset him, and a wide grin crosses his lips at the realization. "What's the matter darling?"
Maverick pouts, and it shouldn't be as endearing as it is on a man well into his fifties. But the man always managed to defy every single expectation. "I was trying to make our initials in the heart but I messed up…"
One glance down and Ice immediately bursts out laughing, the good tears welling in his eyes for the first time in eons. Imprinted right in his stomach is something suspiciously phallic, and the longer he stares at it the more it looks like a dick. "Honey-"
Ice wipes his eyes, shaking his head and looking back at him. In an instant it all clicks. Because Maverick has an annoyingly smug look on his face that Ice really really wants to punch or kiss away. So he settles for punching him with his lips, drawing his infuriating husband in for a harsh kiss.
"You fucker." Ice shakes his head, fondness dripping from every word. He knows exactly what Maverick did- force him to look at his huge stomach and laugh at it. The worst part- it worked.
"I don't know what you're talking about." The smugness is still there, so Ice decides he has to punch him with his lips again.
And again. And again. Just to make sure he gets the message.
Eventually Maverick decides to pull away, and Ice takes the opportunity to catch his breath. But even that respite doesn't last long because before he knows it, the shorter man's making himself comfortable between his chunky thighs and latching onto one of them.
The kissing continues over them too, Maverick lavishing his plethora of stretch marks and sliding his tongue over them. It draws a broken moan from Ice's lips, the skilled tongue pressing against the spots that set his nerves on fire with every pass. His cock gets stiffer, almost fully hard now. A miracle compared to earlier.
"So fucking gorgeous, want them to suffocate me." Maverick groans, just barely loud enough for Ice to hear. "Choke me out with your thighs love."
"Y-yeah?" Ice asks breathlessly, arousal rushing up his spine at the thought. In an instant he's hard as diamond, thoughts of sitting on his husband's face too good to resist. Though he's sure it won't be anytime soon- he doesn't want to kill the man even if he is very bothersome.
"Oh fuck yes, it'd be a wet dream come true." Lust drips from his voice like the precum making its way out of his cock, "and there have been many."
That just makes Ice's brain short circuit, unable to connect the two ideas. It almost makes him catch how Maverick begs, "please dearest, I need it."
The kisses on his thighs get wetter and wetter, and Ice moans louder from what it means. Maverick. Drooling over his flabby thighs. It's incredible. The bed shifts under him and he looks down at him, cock throbbing at the sight of his husband's large wet spot on the front of his jeans. "Maverick-"
"I meant to tell you everything I adored about you, from the belly I love to hold and really want to hump and cum on to your perfect chest to these glorious thighs but-" Maverick groans, grinding down against the bed, "I need you so fucking badly. Please darling, please-"
"Y-yes. Anything angel, what do you need?" Ice asks, breathless from arousal and shock. A bead of precum slides down his dick at the mere thoughts of what his husband could do to take him apart. "I need you too, so goddamn much you have no idea."
Maverick lets out a whine and if that isn't the hottest thing ever Ice will let him steal all the planes in the Navy. He grabs a pillow from the top of the bed, somehow managing to lift Ice's considerable weight (his husband is so strong he loves him so fucking much) and slide it under his hips. "I need those thighs around my head and my head buried in that godly ass."
Ice instantly nods, head fuzzy like he's past cloud nine and at cloud sixty nine. He bites his lip, spreading his ( horribly huge husband approved) thighs and wiggling his ( too fat worthy to suffocate under) ass as invitingly as he can. From the broken moan he hears, it works just as well as it did back in the day.
"Well? What are you waiting fo- oh fuck- "
Only hesitating to wipe the drool from his mouth, Maverick dives in. His head disappears between Ice's thighs, hands shoving them back together around his head and devouring his asshole like a starving man. Ice gasps, eyes rolling back in his head as he sees stars swimming around on their ceiling. "Maverick!"
Moans spill out from between his thighs, each of them vibrating his hole in the most perfect way. Ice grabs onto the bed sheets, thighs shaking and clenching down on his husband's head to keep him in place. Normally, this would be the time Maverick would tease him, take his mouth away and make him beg for it. But neither of them can wait for that tonight, he's sure they'd both die if he tried to wait even a nanosecond longer.
His cock weeps and he can't imagine how Maverick must be feeling, and it only makes him love the insane man more for ignoring his own needs. Ice isn't sure he'd be able to manage. His thighs tighten as he feels the tip of a tongue pushing against his hole, forcing himself to relax and welcome it in. For a moment he's concerned he killed his husband, his thighs too fat, but the tongue starts moving and hands get firmer on the outsides of them so he knows he's alive. No, it's just Ice who's died and gone to heaven.
Maverick's always been good with his mouth. Whether it's back talking to his superiors or lying about an inversion or charming his way to free drinks, he's incredible at it. But nothing compares to how fucking good he is with his mouth against his hole. Ice lets out an embarrassingly loud whine and pushes down onto the sinful tongue, feeling it work its way further into his depths.
"Please- Mav please- I can't- Mav- oh fuck-" Ice's voice trembles with need, arousal burning in his veins. He scrambles for a hold on the sheets, something latching him to reality while his soul is sucked out of his body. Precum smears across his stomach, more than he's used to but christ it's been ages since he's been eaten out. He can't remember why he stopped making Mav do this.
That's right- because his ass and thighs are too big for this. But Maverick's managing, never one to back down from a challenge, and embracing all of him. Tears well in Ice's eyes with an overwhelming amount of love for this insane little man, no matter how ugly he looks Mav's never made him feel bad about it. And while he's a great liar to all the higher ups who have demanded answers from him, Ice has always been able to look through them effortlessly. So to know he truly means the words of admiration… it's more than he can handle.
"I can hear you thinking up there Kazansky-Mitchell, am I not doing a good enough job?" Maverick's infuriating voice is raw with blatant want, head popping up from the swell of his belly to look him in the eyes. Ice's cheeks turn pink and he shakes his head, cock aching for more.
"No- keep going- please-" Ice begs, shocking both of them. He's never been this needy without a lot of teasing beforehand, and even that takes an hour or more of work. The ice-cold thing didn't come from nothing. But Ice might be about to cum from nothing.
"If you insist…" His husband disappears below the chub and spreads his thick cheeks again, and Ice is launched back into bliss ass first. Fuck he's so fat, he can't see his gorgeous husband eating him out like a starving man. But that thought is quickly banished from his mind as Maverick does the little twist with his tongue he knows he loves and he can't think anymore.
His hand drifts towards his cock and he barely gets a brush of fingers against it before he feels Maverick's skilled hand shove it towards his side, refusing him the relief he desperately needs. "Mav- darling-"
Another twist of his tongue sends Ice into another wave of ecstasy, barely registering the words that follow, "you're not going to touch your pretty cock gorgeous, you're going to cum all over that sexy tummy just from my tongue. Understand?"
A strangled moan escapes and they instantly lock eyes over Ice's tummy, his husband popping up like a little gremlin. Delight shines bright in green eyes while horror spreads across his blue ones, face paling in realization. "Tommy… my love… what was that?"
"Fuck off," Ice whines, covering his face with his hands as humiliation races through him. "Nothing happened-"
"Oh something definitely happened darling. It's okay sweetheart, I loved it." Maverick purrs, giving his chub a kiss because he can. "It's hot as hell you're that affected just by my words…" Another kiss gets pressed to his belly before he dives back between his thighs, continuing where he left off without a moment of hesitation.
Another one of those truly humiliating moans erupts from his lips and Ice wishes he had less blubber so he could hit his husband over the head when his rim vibrates from laughter. Sadly he has to settle for a glare he's sure Maverick can feel even through his substantial gut- the decades of marriage coming in handy.
Then again, if they weren't married for that long, maybe Ice could've snuck his hand down to jerk himself the pathetically small rest of the way until orgasm. But as it stands Maverick knows everything he's doing even while eating him out so he's helpless to his husband's demands. And loathe as he is to admit it, he wouldn't trade his menace for anything. Even if he really wants to so he can cum already.
As close as he is, Ice knows it's not enough. It's rare he can cum untouched, and even rarer without his husband's cock splitting him open. Then again, the tender touches against his enormous thighs, ass, and stomach are doing something for him. He never thought he could think of those parts as anything but abhorrent, things to grab a knife and shave away at until regaining his irresistible figure hidden way under the laters. Yet as always, Maverick did the impossible.
The tears fall now, a wet streak down his cheek as his heart explodes in his chest. While he's never questioned his marriage before or his choices of who to love, this above all else lets him know he made the right call. His husband is too good to be true, never failing to give him what he needs and help him through the darkest pits. Ice wants to marry him again and again until the end of time.
But it's practically torture, so close to the edge and wanting nothing more than to sprint off it (or as much as someone like him can sprint anymore) and into the bliss waiting at the bottom. Another tear falls, hitting his chin (double or triple at this point) but Ice doesn't care. He tries to squirm, even a slight bit of movement would be enough to help get rid of this pressure. Unfortunately, his husband's capable hands keep firmly in place, making the ecstasy build and build.
The touches are more frantic now, and while Ice would have been concerned about suffocating his husband, the tongue devouring his asshole is only getting more and more eager. Moans rattle his insides as Maverick dives deeper, rubbing his walls in his favorite way. They snake their way through his organs and out his mouth, amplified into the room so his husband can hear above the lewd wet sound coming from his ass.
And for how long they've been like this, Maverick hasn't complained once. Not tired or taken a break, if anything his determination increased tenfold to get Ice to cum on his tongue alone. Which is an Olympic feat. Maverick Mitchell-Kazansky: gold medalist in ass eating. He more than earned it.
Ice sobs in pleasure, desperate for one more little scrap to push him over the edge. Infuriatingly, it doesn't come. His cock drips wet, precum gushing out and soaking his gut while pooling at his groin. It's like he pissed himself there's so much there, all proof of how perfect his husband is. How well he can take him apart and mend him again. But if he would just give him a little more .
Maverick's hand rests on his stomach in the middle of all the love bites from eons ago, tracing a heart with searing hot pressure as his tongue makes one in his ass.
It's pathetic, Ice will never live it down.
He cums. Hard.
So hard that ropes of cum manage to get over his gut and land on his chin and lips. Ice screams in pleasure, back arching off the bed with his vision whiting out as his body shakes. His cock and asshole pulse, riding out the waves of his orgasm as he floats above everything. Everything goes white in his head, and all he can feel is the sheer elation of finally getting what he's been craving.
Distantly he registers Maverick licking him through it then pulling out, leaving Ice a melted puddle on the bed. Literally and metaphorically with all the cum he didn't know he had stored in his balls. But a glance at his husband makes the fraction of a brain cell he gained back short circuit again. Not for the first time he curses his age- if he were younger he'd be hard and leaking again instantly.
Because down to his midthigh is a wet spot on his husband's jeans, his erection straining in what must be an extremely painful way. But he ignored it all for him and brought him pleasure out of his mind. "I love you so goddamn much."
"I love you even more stud." Maverick winks and crawls up the bed in what should be an incredibly undignified way but he somehow makes it look graceful like royalty. It's infuriating, and Ice adores him for it. "You have no idea how perfect you are."
As soon as Ice feels like a semi-functioning human again, clearly not fast enough for Maverick who's taken to grinding against his side, he draws him in for a deep kiss. A whine rumbles against them and he grins, finding he likes this side of it so much more. His husband all needy for him… it's the best thing he's seen all night. And if it makes Maverick taste some of his cum… that's a secret motive. "How do you want to cum honey?"
Maverick does a great imitation of a tomato with how red his cheeks get, flushed from his ears down his neck. And Ice knows it's not from exertion, none of it was there a few seconds ago. That just makes him more intrigued, with the eons of being together there's not much that embarasses them about their fantasies anymore.
"Go on love, spit it out." Ice prompts after realizing Maverick wasn't going to say a word, sliding his jeans and underwear down his hips and to his ankles. His husband barely manages to move out of them, exposing his bright red and dripping wet cock. Ice licks his lips- he wants it in his mouth.
"I… canIfuckyourtits."
The words fall out in a rush and Ice tries to decipher them. For his experience in Maverish, this isn't something in his vocabulary. "What was that dearest?" Ice presses a gentle kiss to his lips, much too soft for the moment, but it gets eagerly returned in the same way. "What do you want?"
"Can… can I fuck your tits." Maverick whispers, eyes down and staring at nothing as he waits for a response. "I'm sorry- I don't have to- I just-"
Ice slams their lips together, fiery arousal shooting across the gap to his husband. Christ how he wishes he were younger so he could get hard again… then again, he wouldn't have the. Oh fuck the tits for Maverick to fuck. As repulsed by them as he was, he never thought he could enjoy having a chest like this. But if Maverick loves them that much… and after the way he took him apart… well Ice can't say no.
"Of course my love," Ice whispers, grabbing his hips and tugging him onto his chest. His muscles aren't very strong after the orgasm but Maverick gets the idea, straddling his chest with ease and lining his aching cock into his cleavage. "Fuck my tits."
As always, Maverick has no patience. The nanosecond the words leave his mouth, his husband's in motion, sliding his angry red cock through his boobs. Ice groans as he watches the familiar dick, pushing his tits together to form a tighter channel for him to enjoy. And imagining his ass in place of the lumps of fat, cock giving a tiny twitch as it tries in vain to come back to life at the thought of how the cock splits him open.
"God darling your tits…" Maverick moans, palming each mound and swiping over his nipples. If Ice thought his husband had any brain cells left he'd remind him that he already came so he doesn't have to do it, but the sparks of overstimulation are nice so he doesn't deter him. "Could fuck them for the rest of my life."
"What about my ass?" Ice teases, taking the opportunity to watch Maverick in his other element. His husband's very skilled with a joystick, the plane and anatomical kind. His hips thrust forward with all the power his tiny frame can generate, sending shockwaves through his boobs. While Ice would be insecure about it, each time Maverick catches sight of them another spurt of precum joins the wetness collecting between his tits so he figures the other man enjoys it.
"Y-yeah…" There aren't any brain cells left behind Maverick's eyes, and while that's not an uncommon event, it's so much more satisfying to know he's the cause of it. "Both…"
"Sorry you don't have two cocks dear." Ice mutters and kisses the tip of his cock when it gets close enough, moaning softly at the taste of him on his lips. "Or the stamina to go twice anymore."
"Oh fuck-" Maverick's cock throbs at the thought of it, bringing a delighted grin to Ice's face, "want… want it both…"
Ice hums softly and watches him with pure adoration in his eyes, enjoying the messed up hair hanging down into his face and flushed cheeks. The way his muscles flex and his mouth goes slack with pleasure… he just wishes he could get a glimpse of that perfect tight ass…
Then he remembers and grins, leaning to the side. The questioning look from his husband goes unacknowledged as he peers into the mirror on the other side of the room. It's not perfect, a bit of an awkward angle and they're only half visible in it, but it's enough for him to see Maverick's ass. And naturally, Ice has to give it a spank.
"Ice!" Maverick gasps, eyes widening in a mix of pain and pleasure. The sound of it echoes through the room, cutting through the wet thuds. Naturally, Ice has to do it again. And again and again until there's a bright red imprint across his husband's asscheek.
His hand fits perfectly there too. His fingers aren't too chubby when they're splayed against Maverick's ass. It looks like it belongs there. Like they're two pieces of an incomplete puzzle that's only finished once joined. Awe rushes off him in waves as he admires his husband, how perfect he is for him even after all the years and pounds.
Based on the mirroring starstruck look shining in his husband's eyes, Maverick agrees. Ice blushes and squeezes his ass, cupping it in his hand (and it fits so perfectly) and helping him thrust into his tits. It's not all selfless though- Ice truly adores having Maverick's ass in his hand and will jump at any and every opportunity to hold it. "You're doing so well sweetheart…" And it's true, Ice didn't think his husband would last nearly this long. "That's it… fuck my tits. I want you to cum all over them and claim them."
Maverick keens and writhes on his lap, and Ice reaches out to play with his nipples. The shorter man moans and arches into it while Ice twists the nubs between his fingers, alternating between that and giving his pecs a squeeze. And isn't that a sight- yet again his hand fits perfectly on his husband. His fingers are just the right size to tweak his nipples, hand large enough to grab all of him. Ice wants to cry, he didn't think he'd be the perfect size for anything. Fucking Maverick Mitchell-Kazansky proving him all wrong.
Even though it's only been two or three minutes something in Maverick starts to change. At first Ice is confused, wondering if he's still into it or needs something new. But then it hits him. And a wave of elation and confidence washes over him in a way he never thought it could. His husband's going to cum. Faster than he has in years.
"Fuck- Darling- I can't- Tom !" Maverick sobs and cums hard with a shout, cock pulsing hard as ropes of cum shoot out onto Ice's chin and lips like his own load did not so long ago. " Tom please… "
"It's okay my love, I'm right here." Ice whispers lovingly, giving his ass a squeeze as he helps him thrust into his tits through it. "You were so good for me dearest, so so good."
His hand moves to rub over his husband's back, tracing small hearts into his skin as he adjusts the limp man into a more comfortable position. Maverick pants hard, blissfully fucked out and pliant in his arms as he lets Ice manhandle him around. Ice cleans the cum off his tits and chin, getting them both as clean as possible as his husband comes back to himself.
When his brain cell (really, a fraction of one) comes back online Maverick's cheeks turn bright red in shame, hiding his face in Ice's neck with a pathetic whine. Ice just laughs and presses an affectionate kiss to the side of his head, rubbing his back gently. "What's the matter honey?"
"You know what it is…" Maverick complains, pressing a light kiss to the fat of Ice's neck no. Ice's neck. Just Ice's neck now. He pouts as he pulls back to look at him. "It was humiliating!"
"It was flattering my love." Ice smiles and blushes, "I can't believe you came that fast for me."
"How could I hold back? You're gorgeous honey! I'm just glad I didn't cream my pants before fucking your tits." Maverick sighs and leans up to kiss him sweetly, "seriously. I adore you so much, you're handsome as hell and I can't believe you're mine."
That's… wow. Ice tears up again, doing his best to blink them away. He didn't think he could hear this and believe someone was being genuine about it, but after all Maverick did… and how loved he feels even through the impenetrable (or what he thought was so) fog of insecurities…
A gentle hand cups his cheek and Maverick peers into his eyes, a concerned look on his face. "What's the matter dearest? Does something hurt?"
"I just…" Ice wipes the tears away, letting out a wet laugh as he sniffs and tries to keep his composure. "I just didn't think anyone could love me like this. And yet here you are, proving me wrong."
"It's what I live for darling. Loving you and proving you wrong." Maverick's signature grin spreads across his lips, but where there's usually confidence and a wave of gremlin is only adoration. "I fucking love this version of you honey, please believe me."
"That's the problem- I do believe you now!" Ice exclaims, rubbing his face and finally pushing the tears away. "I didn't think I ever would and now I do and I'm a mess and-"
His rambling is cut off by a gentle kiss, one he eagerly returns as his husband settles on him. "Shhh my love… I love this. I love having someone comfortable to lay with at the end of the day, and I love that you're not the perfect ice cold person you try to be. I love you when you're emotional."
"Marry me." Ice blurts out without thinking, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks once the words escape and they register in his mind. "I-"
Maverick grins in delight usually saved for breaking all the rules in the air. "Ice… are you serious?" He rubs his cheekbone with his thumb, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Did you mean it?"
"Yes." Even though it was impulsive as all hell, Ice means it. He really has been spending too much time with Maverick… "I mean it. Marry me."
"We're already married my love, or did you forget the past few decades." Maverick teases affectionately, the shiteating spark back in his eyes. Oh how Ice hates and loves it.
"Of course I know that idiot. I mean marry me again." Ice huffs, pinching his side with tender affection. "Let's do it. Put on our suits and grab our friends and go renew our vows. So, what do you say? Will you marry me again Maverick Mitchell-Kazansky?"
A deep and loving kiss takes his breath away, only breaking when his eyes are blissed out and lungs are burning for air but neither of them care about that. "Yes." Maverick says with reverence, "always yes. Yes a million times over, I'll marry you again Iceman Kazansky-Mitchell."