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He feels ridiculously overheated – panting, sweating, writhing – while Hermann is laying mostly still under him. It isn't fair. Really and truly. This is the first time they've done this, and Newton is damn near obsessed with making it perfect. For Hermann. For both of them. But, mostly, for Hermann. He just wants so desperately for him to feel good. And he was adamant that Hermann tell him if he felt any pain. At all.
“Seriously,” Newton had stammered when they first started unbuttoning each other's shirts, “don't be all stoic, stiff upper lip British dude about this. Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Hermann had laughed, snagged Newton's tie – which he had yet to take off, despite the unbuttoning of shirts that was going on – and tugged him unbearably close, until there were mere centimeters between their lips.
“I most certainly will. As long as you do the same.”
And now they're both naked – Hermann is propped up in a nest of about a million and a half pillows, with Newton straddling his lap, and Newton is having trouble focusing on anything other than the freckles dusted across his pale cheekbones. “Holy shit,” he whispers.
“What is it?” Hermann suddenly panics, his eyes huge, like he expects all of this to come crashing down around him until he's left, alone, in a nest of about a million and a half pillows. Newton stares at him, as if finally seeing him for the first time.
“You're kind of beautiful, Hermann.” His eyes, impossibly, grow bigger, though Newton didn't think that was physically possible, and his face heats up with an adorable blush. Unable to help himself, Newton wraps his arms loosely around his waist and leans forward to peck him on the tip of his bright, red nose.
“Honestly, Dr. Geiszler. You shouldn't tease your bed partner.” Hermann chides, ducking his head to discourage any further affection, though Newton tries to chase after him for one last kiss. “It is unbecoming of a man of your status.”
“Honestly, Dr. Gottlieb, I'm so sorry. Whatever was I thinking,” he mocks, not unkindly, his voice intentionally low-pitched and pompous. It's reminiscent of their many arguments, though any venom has long since left their bickering. Hermann huffs, and Newton can physically feel him rolling his eyes. With an unapologetic smirk on his face, he nudges forward, nuzzling into the warmth of Hermann's neck. In response, Hermann tightens his hold on Newton's hips; he's most certainly going to leave bruises, not that either of them are overly concerned with that.
“You really are beautiful though,” he murmurs, his eyes slitting shut.
“Oh hush.” Still shy, still unsure. Newton shifts, a subtle tilt of his head, until he has Hermann's pulse pinned under his lips. Unwilling to give pause, he traces the path of his jugular with the very tip of his tongue. The noise Hermann makes is undignified and delicious and Newton chases it, latching on to a patch of skin just under his jaw and sucking, hard, until the flesh is painted red and shiny raw.
“You okay?” He asks, his voice surprisingly rough. Hermann nods shakily, and reaches up to wrap his arms around Newton's shoulders. “You'd tell me if you weren't, right? Like. If your leg was hurting or something. You'd tell me?” Hermann nods again, and tugs him down until their foreheads are touching. Newton still has his arms looped around Hermann's middle; he imagines they make a fetching picture – all of his ink pressed against the blank canvas of Hermann's chest, tangled together in a stark, perfectly balanced division.
Slowly, Newton rises to his knees, until he's kneeling over Hermann's lap – rather than in it – and leans over to grope in the drawer of his bedside table. Hermann grips his hips with both hands, as if to keep him steady, though he's more distracted by what Newton's awkward stretching is doing to his tattoos.
“If I didn't know any better,” he comments quietly, openly staring at the curls of red ink swirling in the crook of his right elbow, “I'd say you were showing off.” Newton makes a questioning sound as he settles back down, his eyes curious and his glasses askew.
“Sorry, what?” He says, fiddling with the tube in his hand.
“Your tattoos,” Hermann clarifies, turning his head to nuzzle a kiss into aforementioned elbow. “They're rather lovely, you know. Quite exceptional, actually. Once you become accustomed to their garish subject matter, of course.”
“Of course,” Newton laughs, a little stunned. It's perhaps the first time Hermann has ever referred to his artwork with such obvious fondness. Biting his lower lip, Newton cups Hermann's cheek in his free hand, tilting his face until their mouths are perfectly aligned. Kissing Hermann has always been easy. Even when they were arguing and angry and borderline hateful, kissing was always easy. Newton is ridiculously eager to lose himself in the slick press of lips and tongue and the occasional scrape of teeth and the sounds.
Hermann groans, low and rough in the back of his throat, and Newton swallows the noise happily. He traces the ridges of Hermann's mouth with his tongue, chasing after his whimpers and moans. Hermann mumbles something against his lips, but he can't understand the words. Carding his fingers through his hair, Newton shifts, grinding against Hermann's rigid cock. Suddenly shy, he presses the tube into Hermann's hand without looking at him.
“Can you...?” He starts to ask, his face aflame. “I can never get my fingers deep enough. Doesn't feel as good.” He's still avoiding actually looking at Hermann, preferring instead to stare stubbornly at the wall.
“You do this to yourself, then?” Hermann's calm, deceptively so, but there's something in his tone that makes Newton glance back at him.
“Sometimes? I mean. Yeah. I guess.” He hates that his voice is cracking, all high pitched and flustered, and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Hmmm,” Hermann studies the tube in his hand. “Perhaps you'll have to show me sometime.” It's then that Newton realizes – Hermann likes the idea of watching him. His face gets hotter, and he's almost positive his glasses are steaming up, and he swallows with an audible click.
“Yeah, um. Okay. Yeah. Next time?” It comes out as a question, though it's meant as a statement, and Newton feels stupidly exposed. Hermann takes pity on him, settling one hand on the small of his back.
“Next time. Or even the time after, if you'd rather.” Newton huffs an embarrassed, humorless laugh that's swallowed by a gasp as a slick, bony finger slides inside of him. “Apologies,” Hermann smiles, brushing a kiss to just above his left nipple. He doesn't sound remotely apologetic. Newton whines as he adds a second finger, rocking back onto his hand. “All right, then?”
“Um. Yes. Definitely. Probably more than all right.” He's babbling, but there are two fingers, thin and long, pushing deep inside of him, pressing very intently against a particular bundle of nerves that has him cursing. “Fucking, oh my God. Hermann, you're brilliant.”
“I'm glad you've finally admitted it.” Despite the glib nature of his words, he sounds just as desperate as Newton. He scissors his fingers, deliberately and with purpose, before adding a third. It's almost too much, and Newton bites his lip, hard, until he tastes blood. He tilts his head back, his eyes mere slits, until, finally, Hermann withdraws his hand. “You have protection, yes?”
“Sorry, what now?” He's dazed, drunk on the pleasure sparking through his veins. “What am I protecting you from?”
“You're a man of science,” Hermann is exasperated, though fondly so. “You know the statistics with untested partners. Do you have a condom?” Newton scowls, but judging by Hermann's face, he is resolute.
“I trust you, and you trust me,” he tries anyway. “Besides, who have you been fucking lately? We have been literally – literally! – glued at the hip for the past million years. I would know if you were getting some. Just like you would know if I was getting some.” Based upon his deepening frown, Hermann is not buying his argument.
“Newton, honestly. We are using a condom or we're not doing this at all.” Newton sighs; he wasn't really up for the fight anyway.
“Fine,” Newton scowls, but it's small, and he reaches over to once again rummage in his beside table drawer. “But we're going to get tested for everything and the next time we do this, it'll be bare.” Hermann makes a noise that's half-incredulous, half-amusement. “I'm serious,” he grouses, slipping the plastic package into his waiting hand.
“Yes, thank you, darling,” Hermann teases, and Newton sucks in a sudden breath.
“Say that again,” he begs, voice cracking.
“Yes, thank you?” Hermann repeats, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
Sighing in frustration, Newton shakes his head urgently and fights the impulse to squeeze his eyes shut with embarrassment. “No, no – the other part.” Hermann smiles with sudden understanding, and settles his hands on Newton's hips.
“Darling,” he says the word carefully, as if he's testing the shape of it in his mouth, and Newton nods. “Darling,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to the hollow of Newton's collar bones. Newton smiles shakily, something thrilling and indefinably warm uncurling in the pit of his belly. “Really, all the things I've said to you, and it's this that gets the biggest reaction. Darling.” Idly, he begins stroking the unbearably soft, inked skin under his fingers.
Newton shudders and Hermann latches onto his left clavicle, sucking a patch of skin into his mouth. His head drops back as he thread his fingers through Hermann's surprisingly soft hair. “Lift up a minute, darling,” he mumbles, drawing back just enough to be heard. His whole body trembles, Newton shifts onto his knees, and Hermann reaches between them to roll the condom over himself. “Ready?” He asks, his voice unsteady.
“Yeah,” Newton nods, gripping Hermann's shoulders, his eyes deadly serious behind his glasses. “You'll tell me if I hurt you?”
“I do believe that's my line,” Hermann laughs, though it's breathless and choked, as Newton sinks down, all too suddenly, onto Hermann's cock. “Good God, man, don't injure yourself!” Newton shakes his head rapidly, his eyes clenched shut and his muscles straining.
“No, no, it's fine. It's. Jesus. You're huge,” he gasps, pressing his forehead into his shoulder; Hermann lets out a sudden bark of laughter. He really is huge; it feels like he might split him in half. “Just. Give me a minute, okay?” Newton tries to inhale, but his breath comes out all shivery and unstable.
“Do you want to stop?” Hermann asks carefully, rubbing up and down his back with great, sweeping strokes of his hand. He sounds astonishingly calm, though his fingers are twitching against the sweaty flesh of Newton's neck, and his heart is pounding loudly enough to be heard in the sudden quiet of the room.
“Mmm, no. No way. Just, holy fucking shit. You feel way too good.” He stammers and Hermann sighs, peppering his collar bones and shoulders with small kisses, like punctuation marks on the ends of his thoughts. Newton shifts, rocking his hips experimentally, and hisses. “Okay. Okay,” he nods, “I'm okay. Are you okay?” He pauses, his eyes huge and shining, and Hermann smiles.
“I'm fine, darling,” he whispers, his accent thick enough that Newton can taste it in the air between them. “You're not hurt at all?” Newton shakes his head, rolling his hips so that Hermann catches a curse between his teeth.
“No. I feel fucking awesome. Do you feel?” Newton stutters, chest heaving and face flushed. “I mean. Are you? Is this... okay? Because it feels so,” he whines, and buries his face in Hermann's shoulder. “Because you feel fucking amazing and I just want.” Hermann makes an almost concerned noise and brings a hand up to run his fingers through Newton's hair.
“I want you to feel good.” Newton says finally, bringing his head up to meet Hermann's sympathetic stare. “I'm sorry. I just want you to feel as good as I do. Like, I can't.” He cuts himself up, biting down hard on his lower lip. It isn't fair. He knows he can get loud, can get carried away. And he just wants to make sure Hermann doesn't get drowned out. Desperately, he rolls his hips and chokes back a whimper.
“Shh,” Hermann murmurs, cradling Newton's face in both of his hands. “It's all right.” He presses a kiss to the center of his forehead, still whispering “it's quite all right” over and over. Carefully, he brushes his thumb against the corner of Newton's mouth, before gently – so gently, so softly – tugging his lower lip free of his teeth. He smiles, a fragile, hopeful thing. “I want to hear you,” he whispers and immediately sucks Newton's lower lip into his mouth, laving the bitten flesh with his tongue. “Let me hear you.”
Newton nods, eyes squeezed shut, and reaches over Hermann's shoulders to grip the headboard tight with both hands. The metal bars are slick under his sweaty fingers, and he exhales a quavering breath. “Let me know if this hurts your leg,” he mumbles for what feels like the hundredth time. Hermann nods, his thumbs rubbing circles on Newton's hips.
Leaning down to slot their mouths together, Newton rocks up against Hermann, grinding his dick against his stomach. “Holy shit yes. Fucking hell yes, oh my God,” he breathes, barely forming the words as he picks up the pace. Hermann's eyes are wide, blown dark, and he's biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Hey no fair,” Newton barely manages to joke as he leans back a little, adjusting the angle slightly. “Come on, tell me how it feels.”
“Oh good Lord,” Hermann whispers, leaning his forehead against Newton's chest. “You feel utterly divine. You're – you're so tight, Newton.” Newton hums in pleasured agreement, rolling his hips lazily. The new angle is better, lets him take Hermann deeper.
“S'really good, huh?” He slurs, shifting one of his hands to grasp one of Hermann's. With a fond smile, Hermann links their fingers.
“Very near perfection, I'd wager.” With his unoccupied hand, Hermann cups the back of Newton's neck, dragging him down for a frenzied kiss. He all but sucks the air from his lungs with the force of it; tongues tangling and dragging over each other. Newton whimpers, tightening his hold on Hermann's hand. He catches Hermann's lower lip between his teeth and doesn't let it go, nibbling until he whines.
Breathing hard through his mouth, Newton works his hips frantically, and Hermann chokes back a scream. “Please,” Newton begs, his chin dropping to his chest, “Hermann, please. I can't. It's too much, please. I want you so bad.”
“Darling,” he whispers, his voice a harsh purr, “you have me. You most certainly have me. And I have you.” Newton sobs, his skin tight and hot, and Hermann slides a hand between them to wrap around his cock. “It's all right. I have you.” It's humiliating how long it takes – only a few quick strokes – before Newton is painting their bellies with his release.
“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he mumbles in a slur, as he slumps against Hermann. He feels boneless, wrapping lazy arms around his shoulders in a loose embrace. “Sorry,” he's stuck on repeat, because he knows Hermann is still hard inside him. Instinctively, Newton clenches down, tightening around him, and Hermann curses loudly. “Sorry.”
“This is the most you've ever apologized in one sitting,” Hermann teases him, settling his hands almost innocently on Newton's ass. “And, it's quite all right, darling. I do believe it's my fault, anyway.” He shifts his grip to Newton's hips, “can you move for me?”
Swallowing roughly, Newton nods, though his thighs are a little sore. But he can move for Hermann. He can be good; he can get him off. He can make him feel good. Once again using the headboard for leverage, Newton rises to his knees, until only the head of Hermann's dick is inside him. With a long exhale, he slowly, tortuously, lowers himself into his lap. It's almost easier this way, in the aftermath of his own pleasure, to focus on Hermann. He's not as desperate, not as stupid. He's boneless, languid, and it's easy to get lost in riding him.
“S'good?” Newton asks, his eyes barely open. He thinks he means, am I good, but the words get lost in the happiness singing in his veins.
“Yes,” Hermann's head drops back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Newton's waist. He comes with his eyes closed and Newton's name caught on his tongue. “Oh, God yes. It was...” he trails off, and Newton's a little proud of that. A speechless Hermann is a rare sight to behold. His hair is disheveled, and his eyes are blown huge and black, and his mouth is kiss sore, and Newton is completely, utterly in love with him.
“Holy shit.” Newton says.
“What is it?” Hermann sounds only mildly concerned as he raises one eyebrow.
“I think I love you.” He breathes, dazed and just a little drunk off his own giddiness. “Holy shit man.”
“Hmm,” Hermann frowns, though it's mostly fake, because Newton can see the smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “You should be more sure than that, darling.”
“Oh I am. I definitely love you. I'm completely, utterly in love with you.”
“That's good then,” Hermann takes his face in his hands, pressing their mouths together. “As I feel the same way, of course.”
“Of course,” Newton mimics, and Hermann isn't even trying to hide his smile anymore. They're grinning at each other, their foreheads touching, their hands linked, and it's very nearly perfect.