Work Text:
Neither Spock nor Jim were breast fed as infants.
Spock does not believe that this, in and of itself, had any particular impact upon their health or psychology. His own mother’s human breast milk would have proven nutritionally deficient for his Vulcan-typical digestive system and rate of growth. Jim’s mother, suffering from severe postpartum depression, left him largely in the care of relatives for the first year of his life. And while Spock will concede that neither of them could be confidently defined as “well-adjusted”, it is unlikely that being bottle-fed had anything to do with it.
He is bottle-feeding his own daughter, in fact, for the same reason he himself was – his Vulcan breast milk does not contain the appropriate ratio of nutrients needed for his mostly-human child to thrive. This was something he knew would be likely when he chose to conceive.
His body, however, does not understand the logic in this, and continues on in it’s insistence that he nurse his child. His breasts swell with milk and leak painfully, tender to the touch and aching to be drained. It is a shame he is unable to nurse his child, because he is certainly producing more than enough milk to do so, but the fact remains that his milk contains far too much of certain nutrients for her needs, and far too little of others.
It is not, however, dangerous for a human to consume. Simply nutritionally inappropriate for the needs of a human infant.
It is, perhaps, also nutritionally inappropriate for the needs of a human adult, but Jim remains undeterred.
“You’re in pain,” he insists, and it is true. Spock has attempted to cause his milk supply to dry up by minimizing the frequency with which he expresses his breasts, but this has simply caused a painful buildup of milk instead, his chest too tender for himself to touch. He is left to leak miserably, and it takes very little convincing from his husband for Spock to allow Jim to aid him in finding relief.
He gasps when Jim wraps his lips around one sensitive nipple. He groans painfully when he begins to suck. He moans with pleasure as the pressure in his chest is reduced, and Jim smiles around the breast in his mouth, a small trickle of milk leaking from the corner of his lips.
Jim settles in between Spock’s legs and drinks from him until he is drained, then nuzzles into his other breast and repeats the process. Spock shivers in relief and pleasure as Jim swallows around him, and Jim moans softly, drinking dutifully until Spock’s letdown sprays against his tongue. He swallows one last time to be sure, then frees himself from Spock’s chest with a soft “pop”, saliva connecting his mouth to Spock’s spit-shiny nipple. Jim pants slightly, cheeks flushed, and Spock tugs him close to kiss him. He can taste the creamy sweetness of his own milk on Jim’s tongue, and Jim whines, kissing back a moment before breaking it to pant again for breath.
“You taste so good,” he says against Spock’s mouth, and Spock feels his face flush warmly. He flushes further when Jim wraps his fingers around one of Spock’s wrists, tugging gently. Spock allows himself to be guided, curious as Jim brings the hand to his own stomach.
“Feel,” he instructs, and Spock does, sliding a hand under Jim’s shirt to feel the swollen curve of his bloated midsection. “That’s all from you,” Jim confirms, and Spock lets out a small, unintentional moan.
“It is uncommon for a Vulcan to give birth to fewer than two children at a time,” Spock explains, slightly breathless. His hand remains on his mate’s distended belly, rubbing the warm flesh in small circles. “Additionally, we grow more quickly in our infancy than humans.”
“And that’s why there’s so much?”
“Indeed,” Spock confirms. His eyes remain fixed on Jim’s stomach, not helped by the fact that Jim is now beginning to remove his shirt entirely. “That is also likely why you found the taste appealing. It is...very high in sugar and fat. More so than human milk.”
Jim hums, and lets himself flop against the mattress next to his husband. Spock stares as Jim unbuttons his pants and rests a satisfied hand upon his own stomach.
“Well, we can’t have you uncomfortable,” Jim insists, and Spock gets the sense that Jim is unlikely to be swayed.
Nor, to be honest, does Spock particularly want to attempt to do so.
Indeed, he wakes the next morning to the increasingly familiar feeling of painfully overfull breasts, swollen and taut with milk, veins bulging under the strained skin. His nipples have leaked through his sleep shirt, making the fabric cling to his sensitive chest, and he removes the soiled garment carefully, hissing in pain.
Spock notes the fact that Jim was not in bed with him upon his waking, and that he does not hear their daughter crying out, indicating that he is likely tending to her. He has proven to be a very attentive father, and this warms Spock thoroughly.
Just as Spock is beginning to consider what to do about his current, painful state, Jim returns to him, making a sympathetic sound when he takes in the state of his husband.
“Nope, sit down, you’re not dealing with that alone,” Jim insists, and Spock goes easily, finding himself thrumming with an odd anticipation. Jim crawls into his lap and latches without much preamble, and Spock once again cries out embarrassingly at the sudden, sharp pain, followed so immediately by massive relief. Jim drinks hungrily, pulling milk in deep pulls from the depths of his husband’s breasts, determined to drain him dry and bring him comfort and relief. Perhaps motivated, too, by his professed enjoyment of the flavor. Spock allows himself to relax, though he knows he will not truly be able to until Jim starts in on his second breast as well, draining it too of the painful pressure within. It has already begun leaking a weak trickle, a thin sticky line of milk trailing down his own midsection, catching in his body hair.
Jim, just as he did the night before, drinks until biology dictates that he is finished, waiting for Spock’s letdown to hit his tongue before letting the nipple in his mouth fall and panting for breath. His face is red, pupils blown wide and eyes somewhat glazed, and he whimpers softly, shifting his position uncomfortably.
“Sorry,” he pants, voice breathless. “Gimme a sec. I kinda already had breakfast,” Jim explains, one hand moving to massage his own stomach.
“You do not have to-” Spock begins but Jim won’t hear it.
“Yes I do. And I want to. I want to help you. And...I’m not gonna lie, I like it. It’s good. It feels good. M’just kinda full,” Jim explains, and Spock nods. Truth be told, he does very badly want Jim to continue nursing from him. The building pressure in his right breast is becoming unbearable.
It it surely a desire to bring Jim comfort, and in turn find comfort himself, which motivates Spock’s decision to tug Jim’s pajama pants down to sit below his swollen belly and rub gently at his bloat. Surely just this, and not the fact that Spock is unduly fascinated by the overfull curve on his mate’s midsection, or the way Jim moans and squirms, or the simple thought that it is his own milk which is causing his mate to become so very full.
“Don’t stop,” Jim instructs, and Spock obeys, rubbing soothingly at Jim’s growing distention as he latches onto Spock’s breast and suckles. His belly seems to bloat further with every swallow, a small but perceptible amount, becoming firm and hard to the touch under Spock’s careful fingers. Spock is still too sore from his recent birth to become properly aroused, but he is beginning to get the distinct sense that this is the only thing stopping him in this moment from becoming erect.
Jim’s stomach is gurgling audibly by the time he releases Spock’s nipple, straining to digest the onslaught of Vulcan dairy it has been subjected to, and he moans, one hand cradling the bloat from below as if to support it. Spock finally gets a good look at his mate’s belly, and it is indeed swollen further than it had been the night before, distinctly round and flushed. Jim wears a strained, yet proud expression, grinning even as the pain in his overfull stomach makes him wince.
“Better?”, he asks, as Spock stares at Jim’s belly, transfixed.
“Indeed,” he agrees, though in truth his focus is not entirely on simply the relief he feels.
This becomes a routine occurrence from that moment on. Jim insists on nursing from Spock at least three times a day, to prevent him from experiencing undue discomfort from a buildup of milk within his breasts. First thing in the morning, mid-day, and before bed. Each time, his stomach becomes strained and swollen from the sheer volume of milk produced by a lactating Vulcan, and the frequency with which he nurses means that his stomach lacks the time to truly recover, an unforeseen but not unpleasant consequence of which is that Jim now is constantly bloated. Even upon waking in the morning, his once-flat belly remains slightly round and tight with the remnants of what was consumed the previous day, despite a full night of digestion. This small bloat is quickly topped off, Jim rolling over and latching before even waking completely, so in the habit is he now of relieving his husband upon waking, and Jim then begins his day with his stomach heavy, taut, and round.
“I think I’m getting used to it,” Jim insists over breakfast, cradling his distended stomach in one hand and eating toast with the other. To prevent the development of a nutritional deficiency, and certainly only for this very logical reason and not out of a desire to continue seeing his mate’s belly expand, Spock insists that Jim continue to also eat regular meals. Jim concedes to this logic with a suspicious ease, insisting only that Spock must rub his straining stomach afterwards, a concession Spock believes is only logical, as it will stimulate digestion and reduce the discomfort felt by his increasingly bloated mate.
“It is likely that your stomach itself has become larger,” Spock points out. “You have been...stretching it, quite frequently.”
Jim laughs, patting his gut fondly. It is difficult to tell due to the constant bloating, but Jim appears to have already begun gaining weight, a softness accumulating on the lower half of his belly that is particularly noticeable when he is at his least swollen. Considering both the sheer volume Jim is consuming, and the particularly high caloric content of Vulcan breast milk, this development is unsurprising.
“Don’t act like this hasn’t been a team effort,” Jim chides playfully, and Spock flushes, unwilling to reply. Jim accepts his shy silence, finishing his breakfast with some effort before leaning back in his chair for his usual post-meal belly rub.
Indeed, Jim’s assessment was correct – a dynamic and adaptable man, he does soon become more and more used to functioning while constantly some degree of overly full. While once he had to rest for some time following meals and nursing sessions, he now needs only Spock’s belly rubs to return him to a functional state. The gurgling of his belly’s constant digestion becomes a soothing background noise of their lives, and Jim rubs his own stomach often, and fondly. Spock concedes, privately, that they are both enjoying all of this an unusual amount, but decides that there is no harm in a mutually beneficial activity, and this is indeed proving to be mutually beneficial. It is not uncommon for relationships to suffer a lack of intimacy following the addition of a child to the family, and it is reassuring to have this additional method of bonding instead.
Jim continues to steadily gain weight, taking every pound in stride. Red stretch marks soon begin to crop up along the sides of his hips and his softening stomach, and he traces them fondly, encouraging Spock to do the same.
“I like it,” he insists, when Spock voices apprehension. “You have them too, from the baby. Now we match. Yours are my fault, and these are yours. I...like knowing they’re from you”, Jim admits, and Spock, unable to speak without surely embarrassing himself, opts to kiss his husband instead. He enjoys that his husband is gaining weight, he admits to himself. He enjoys, especially, that he is directly the cause of it. His own body has been changed irrevocably by his pregnancy, something Spock has already voiced his approval of, a tangible reminder of their relationship. It is reasonable, logical, then, that Jim may find that he feels the same way about the effects of Spock’s milk.
Already Jim’s shirts have been constantly riding up, due to his frequently distended stomach, but as he gains weight they becomes less and less capable of offering any modesty whatsoever, until his entire stomach is bared to the world, round and soft, wobbling and jiggling with every step, every motion. His preferred lounge pants and sweat pants, too, cease being able to be pulled up over the curve of his gut, and Jim simply tugs them up as high as he can over his softening hips and rear, allowing his stomach to spill over his waistband instead. He refers to this configuration as “comfortable”, and giving his stomach “room to grow”. He does not mention the fact that this gives himself and Spock much easier access to rub and fondle his bloated stomach and squishy underbelly, but it very much does, and they both take advantage of this often.
Jim pats his stomach after a meal, stomach resting comfortably on his lap. His thighs have thickened considerably, straining the seams of his sweatpants, as has his rear, a development Spock finds himself particularly pleased with. His belly sloshes, filled with breast milk and soup, and Jim sighs happily. His fingers sink into the soft fat that has accumulated so rapidly over the past month of diligent gorging, meeting the firm bloat of his belly underneath, roaming and exploring as he often does now while resting after a meal. His fingers trace out his red, angry stretch marks, rivaling Spock’s stomach in number, and dip into his deepening belly button. He hums fondly.
They will remain on leave for some time. Eventually, they will have to adjust their habits. Eventually, Jim will have to acquire clothing that actually fits him, that he isn’t all but bursting out of, and eventually Spock will have to make another attempt at drying his milk supply, and eventually they will return to work, with the addition of a baby, and several dozen pounds of body weight. But for now, they are utilizing time that was set aside purposefully for bonding and adjusting, and they are using it for just that. Spock’s hand sinks into Jim’s soft, appealing belly, and he squeezes lightly, before rubbing firmly at the swollen, sloshing stomach beneath his hand. Jim sighs, one hand still groping himself distractedly, seeming to take some degree of sensory comfort in his own softness. He appears tired, and radiates across the bond a sleepy contentment. Spock kisses his husband's chubby, rounded cheek, and Jim smiles brightly at him, eyes tired but thoroughly pleased.