markingatlightspeed:

“Mmm, you are so soft,” Medic cooed, pressing his cheek to Heavy’s belly and sinking gently. Soft fat cushioned his head, dark hairs tickling at his nose and lips as he snuggled against the giant’s middle, wrapping his arms around Heavy’s bulk and giving him a squeeze.

Heavy’s pudge was a source of minor fixation for Medic, a layer of padding atop unreal amounts of muscle, insulation over the powerful structure that was the giant’s body. He was strong, so strong, and one squeeze of his bicep or calf would reveal that strength in rigid magnificence, but it was here, around his core, where the workings of his body ticked away in perfect mechanical order, that he wore a soft coating of fat. It protected and supported him, but mostly, it was a sign of the enormous caloric intake the man ingested. Mostly, to build and maintain muscle. Or so he claimed, citing the heavy loads of protein he prepared for his meals.

The chocolates and pastries he snuck after a hard day’s work, however, told the rest of the story.

And Medic loved it. He loved to lay against his beloved, head cushioned on the soft pillow of his belly as he reclined between his legs, book in hand. He loved to brush his cheek and nose over soft hairs and comfy tummy, nuzzling in and hugging him tight. He loved to mush his face into Heavy’s belly and blow out, making rude noises and giggling like the immature child he was.

But mostly, he just loved to pet him. To rub circles and feel the giant relax and sigh contentedly as his hand made slow passes through hair and over pudge, whispering praises of how perfect and beautiful and amazing he was.