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They’ve been tangled on the sofa for a full twenty minutes. It’s not the first time that Newt and Hermann have kissed—it’s not even the first time they’ve made out—but there’s something different about today.
Newt is leaning back, half-reclined against the pillows. His brain is foggy and his skin electric. Hermann is warm, bony but solid, leaning in with his hands flat against Newt’s chest.
“Newton,” Hermann whispers, his lips brushing against Newt’s as he speaks. “I’d like to take you to bed.”
Newt swallows, because he feels like he’s been waiting for this forever. Hermann’s voice has become deep and rough. He stares at Newt’s mouth with his eyes half-lidded.
“Okay,” Newt chokes, heart pounding hard. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
Hermann smiles and starts to stand, and Newt freezes up in doubt. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—he said he did, and he meant it—it’s just that he’s pretty sure Hermann expects him to have a certain level of experience, and Hermann has always been very, very wrong when making assumptions about Newt’s sexual experience. The truth is, Newt doesn’t have any experience. At all.
Hermann is looking down at him now, breaths coming through parted lips, eyes dark and soft with a fondness that makes Newt melt a little. It’s that look—that gaze that suggests love without saying it—that makes up his mind. Newt takes a deep breath and follows Hermann into the bedroom.
---
His bed is covered in dirty clothes, the blankets all pushed to one side. Newt rushes to shove the clothes away, then straightens the blankets and looks up at Hermann with a sheepish grin.
“Uh—I sort of need to do laundry,” he says.
Hermann rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He crosses the small room and kisses Newt slowly before tugging his tie loose and letting it fall to the floor.
“Thought you’d be the fold-’em-first type,” Newt jokes, nervousness making him chatty.
Hermann doesn’t say anything. He unbuttons Newt’s shirt and allows it to hang open as he traces Newt’s collarbone with one finger.
Newt can’t stop thinking. He supposes he should say something—should he say something? Does he have to say something? Indecision makes him hesitate, and his hands rest on Hermann’s hips without moving.
“What’s wrong?” Hermann asks, eyes flickering up from the tattoos on Newt’s chest.
Newt flinches. “What? Nothing.”
Hermann raises an eyebrow.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Newt repeats. He tries to distract Hermann by kissing him. It works at first—Hermann tends to lose his train of thought whenever Newt bites at his lips—but then Hermann pulls away again. His hand has slid to Newt’s neck, and Newt’s pretty sure Hermann can feel the racing heartbeat beneath his skin.
“Newton...” Hermann says.
“Okay, I just—” Newt sighs, and his words tumble out. “It’s not a big deal, I just—I mean, I don’t know if you even need to know this or if it matters or what, but it’s just that I’ve never actually—um—”
“You’ve never been with a man?” Hermann asks, with a look of slight surprise. He gives Newt’s waist a comforting squeeze. “That’s alright. We’ll—”
“No, that’s not it.” Newt can feel his cheeks getting hot. “I’ve never been with anyone,” he admits. “I’m kind of a virgin.”
There’s a long and agonizing pause. When Newt finally looks up, Hermann’s expression is completely blank.
"But I’ve seen you date."
"Yeah, well—”
“When you say ‘kind of’ a virgin...”
“I mean I am. I’ve never had sex. With anyone.”
Hermann is still silent, and Newt is completely unable to gage his reaction.
“Is that alright?” he asks, hating how the question makes his voice small.
Hermann doesn’t answer—just sinks down to sit on the bed.
“Hey—dude, are you okay? You look a little…”
Hermann nods, distantly. When he looks up at Newt, his eyes are nearly all pupil, and Newt realizes what’s happening. Hermann is looking at him like he's starving, and Newt is a freshly baked dessert.
“Oh,” Newt says. “You—you like that.”
Hermann swallows. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you feel—”
“No, no, no, dude, don’t apologize, what are you doing?” Newt sits down on the bed next to him. “You’re not making me feel anything. Nothing bad, anyway. Whatever you’re into man, that’s—that’s totally fine.”
They sit side-by-side for a moment. Newt starts biting his lips nervously. He nudges Hermann’s knee with his own.
“So, uh—you wanna be my first?”
Hermann's eyelids flutter, and he sways a bit in place, as if he’s lost control of his own muscles.
“Please,” he says. He parts his legs just an inch wider, pants already tented. Newt begins to think that maybe he underestimated just how deeply this kink runs.
Hermann leans in for a kiss, framing Newt’s face in his hands. He's eager and desperate, and Newt huffs a laugh against his mouth.
“Are you nervous?” Hermann asks.
Newt shakes his head. “Pfft, no. ...Maybe.”
“It’s to be expected.” Hermann smiles, and Newt gets that melty feeling again. He looks away so that Hermann won’t notice, but he thinks it’s probably pretty obvious. Hermann pats his hand and calls him “darling,” then kisses him again. He pulls Newt’s shirt off his shoulders and drops it to the ground. “Lie down for me,” he whispers.
---
They spend fifteen minutes doing nothing but kissing in bed with their shirts off. It’s only a step beyond making out on the couch, but this time, they don’t bother hiding their arousal, and every now and then, Hermann grinds his hips in a way that makes Newt see stars.
“Fuck,” he swears, when Hermann swipes a thumb over one nipple. “How are you so good at this?”
Hermann smirks. “You’ve been underestimating me since we met.”
“That’s not true.” Hermann grinds his hips again. “Okay, that’s a little bit true.”
Hermann chuckles in a rumbling purr. He settles his hand over the curve of stomach just above Newt’s too-tight pinstriped pants. His pinkie dips down beneath the edge of the fabric, and Newt gives an undignified squeak.
“I’m starting to regret not buying a size up,” he quips.
Hermann removes his hand and lifts himself up on his elbows, looking at Newt’s pants appraisingly. “I like them like this,” he says.
“You told me they were unprofessional.”
“Did I? That sounds like something I’d say.”
“You did say it—the first time we met.”
“In Cambridge?”
“Yeah.”
“Well for once, I’m glad you didn’t listen.”
Newt laughs, but Hermann smothers it with his mouth. He kisses Newt hungrily, until Newt can no longer breathe, and his blood pumps hot through his veins. Hermann’s hands are drifting lower and lower, and Newt’s hips keep rutting against Hermann’s thigh on their own. He’s starting to panic over how close he’s getting when Hermann pulls back and squeezes one hand low on Newt’s hip.
“I’m the first one to see you like this,” he says, panting slightly. “Is that right?” He cups his hand over Newt’s erection.
“Yeah,” Newt chokes. “You’re the first.”
Hermann kisses him again. He traces the outline of Newt’s cock through his pants, and Newt needs to break the kiss to let out a moan.
“Perfect,” Hermann growls.
Newt is trying to think of a response when Hermann starts rubbing him vigorously. Every language Newt knows promptly flies out of his brain. His breaths come fast and he stares glaze-eyed into the middle distance. Hermann leans over him, watching his every reaction like a hawk. The thought makes Newt’s heart pound faster.
“The only problem with these trousers,” Hermann murmurs. “Is that you’re trapped inside. And darling, you must be aching.”
Newt gives a startled cry. His hips arch off the bed, and he feels the warmth of come wetting his pants.
“Oh my god,” he groans. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”
Hermann kisses him quiet. “Relax,” he says.
“I’ll do whatever you want, I swear, just gimme a minute to—”
“Newton.”
Newt opens his eyes, his face still scrunched in embarrassment.
“I’m not done with you yet. That was only to take the edge off.”
Newt exhales a short “ah.”
Hermann gives a triumphant smirk.
---
They lie next to each other and talk quietly as Newt catches his breath. His pants have become a bit uncomfortable, but Hermann's finger keeps stroking at the wet patch in the fabric, so Newt doesn’t say anything. He stares up at the ceiling in a pleasant post-orgasm buzz, and smiles at the feeling of Hermann’s breath on his shoulder.
“Has anyone ever seen you nude?” Hermann asks.
Newt shakes his head. “Not full-frontal. I mean, other than doctors, immediate family, and locker room situations.”
Hermann nods, and Newt hears the click of a swallow.
“This really turns you on, huh?” he asks.
Hermann starts to draw away, but Newt pulls him back.
“I don’t know why,” Hermann admits, sounding embarrassed for the first time. “It’s just—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, I’m not gonna analyze you.”
“I—” Hermann sighs.
Newt kisses him. He can’t say he’s not curious—he wonders how the kink developed, and he wonders how many of the people Hermann has slept with have been virgins. But honestly, it doesn’t matter. He’s happy to be able to give this to Hermann, and although it’s a one-time gift, there’s always roleplay.
“You know, I’m actually quite surprised,” Hermann says, as Newt kisses along his jaw. “I’d imagined you to be a bit of a flirt when you were younger.”
“Yeah, well you imagined wrong.”
Hermann pulls away enough to look Newt in the eyes with a vaguely amused expression.
“I mean, it wasn’t really a priority when I was in school, and I was always a lot younger than my classmates anyway, which was weird. And then there were the kaiju and the research and it just—it never happened.”
“I see.”
“But I’m glad it didn’t, because now there’s you, and I can’t even imagine myself with anyone else.”
Hermann’s hand stills on Newt’s back. His face looks like it’s going to crumple, but he doesn’t say anything. He kisses Newt on the forehead, then smiles so brightly that Newt is struck by how young he looks.
“Did I say something good?” Newt asks.
“Why don’t we finish what we’ve started here.”
Newt mentally answers his own question with a “yes.”
---
The sense of urgency Newt once felt is gone. He isn’t as nervous as he was before, and his confidence is soaring. He’s having fun.
Hermann sits up. He curls his good leg beneath him and relaxes the other into a more comfortable position. Newt turns over onto his back, staring up at him and admiring the view.
“I can’t believe you hide in those gross sweaters,” he says. “You’re totally hot, you should show it off.”
Hermann rolls his eyes and reaches down to unbutton Newt’s pants.
“I’m not about to take my shirt off in the middle of the lab,” he says. “For numerous reasons, one being that you’ve made our work area a dreadful health hazard.”
“Dude, I’d clean the place every day if it meant you’d be up on that ladder with your shirt off.”
Hermann snorts. He pulls Newt’s socks off one by one, then squeezes the arch of Newt’s bare foot.
“Wow, now I can’t stop thinking about it,” Newt continues. “Seeing you stretch up to reach the top of the blackboard.” He licks his lips and slips his hand into his pants to palm himself.
“That’s quite enough of that,” Hermann grumbles, cheeks turning pink. He pulls Newt’s hand away and starts tugging down his pants. “You’re insufferable.”
Newt lifts his hips. “You love me.” He realizes too late what he’s just said, and backtracks quickly. “I mean—you know what I mean.”
Hermann gives him a long and thoughtful look. He pushes Newt’s pants off the edge of the bed.
---
Newt is still in his boxers and Hermann is entirely clothed from the waist down, so Newt sets out to remedy what he sees as a highly unfair inequality. He pulls Hermann down to lay next to him and apologizes when Hermann winces against the pain in his leg.
“Sorry man, sorry,” Newt says, nervous hands fluttering in the air. Hermann strokes his cheek to calm him.
Newt takes off Hermann’s socks, then takes off Hermann’s belt. Hermann watches him in perfect silence as Newt unbuttons his poorly-fitting pants, and pulls them down, holding his breath.
“You’re so skinny,” Newt teases.
“You’re so soft,” Hermann breathes.
Newt looks at him, feeling melty for the third time tonight, and lays back down, caging Hermann’s head between his forearms. They kiss, and Hermann strokes Newt’s ankle with his foot, and Newt makes an unintentional whimpery sound in the back of his throat. His arms aren’t used to holding his weight in this way, and they start to tremble, the muscles weak.
“Shh,” Hermann whispers, stroking Newt’s arms and pushing him back. “Lie down.”
Newt lies back against the rumpled sheets. Hermann sits half-up, and traces the swirls of color on Newt’s sides.
“There are kaiju on your boxers,” he murmurs.
Newt laughs. “Yeah, you like ‘em?”
“They’re ridiculous.”
“Uh, not as ridiculous as your tighty-whities.”
Hermann rolls his eyes. Newt is about to say something witty and sarcastic when Hermann slides a hand up one leg of Newt’s boxers, and reaches just far enough to rub the crease where thigh meets torso. Newt’s eyelids flutter, and whatever he was going to say is promptly forgotten. Hermann removes his hand.
“I’m sorry, were you about to speak?” he asks, with false concern.
All Newt can think to say is “uh.”
Hermann gives a very self-satisfied grin. Newt watches as he moves down to the foot of the bed and sits between Newt’s legs. He spreads them apart just a few inches more, and Newt’s heart starts to pound.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in shorts,” Hermann says.
“Yeah you have,” says Newt, happy to correct him. “You came to my room one time while I had a hangover and was still in my pajamas.”
Hermann frowns. “When was this?” He leans down and kisses Newt’s shin.
“Uh—like, a while ago. Couple years, maybe.”
Hermann strokes the back of Newt’s knee and kisses further up his leg. “I don’t remember.”
“Okay, well.”
Hermann kisses the inside of Newt’s thigh. Newt squeezes his eyes closed and presses his head into the pillow.
“What time of year was it? Perhaps that will jog my memory.”
“Dude, I can’t—”
Hermann pushes up one leg of Newt’s boxers and kisses the soft and sensitive skin underneath. Newt moans.
“You can’t remember?” Hermann asks, innocently. “If you don’t have any details, I think you’re making this up.”
Newt opens his eyes and looks down his body. His boxers are obscenely tented, and Hermann is lying on his stomach between Newt’s parted legs. Newt swallows.
“I—don’t—”
Hermann laughs.
“Dude, you’re like, torturing me, this is torture, I’m calling the fucking UN or something.”
Hermann curls his fingers around the waistband of Newt’s boxers, and Newt has only a few brief seconds of respite before they’re tugged off his hips, and he’s completely, self-consciously naked on the bed.
“Oh, fuck,” he mutters.
Hermann tosses the boxers away, then removes his own underwear. Newt stares, greedily. Hermann looks up at him and strokes himself three times before licking his lips and laying back down between Newt’s legs. Newt’s mouth goes dry.
“There are so many things I can show you,” Hermann says. “I can’t believe you’ve never been touched.”
Newt smiles, shakily. “Believe it.”
Hermann takes Newt’s hand and kisses his knuckles.
“I’ve never touched anyone else, either” Newt adds. “So…”
“You’ll get your turn.”
Newt gives a slightly-hysterical laugh, cut short when Hermann wraps a hand around his cock.
“Ohmygod—” he chokes. “Keep—yeah—do that.”
Hermann smiles and strokes him. Newt’s hands clutch at the bedsheets. He could swear the temperature of the room has just risen—his chest heaves, and he feels himself breaking into a sweat. Hermann says Newt’s name under his breath, and when Newt looks down, Hermann is leaning forward, his lips parted. Newt gasps just as Hermann takes the tip of Newt’s cock into his mouth.
“Oh my god Herm, oh my god.”
Newt shuts his eyes and whines and thinks of anything other than what Hermann is currently doing, because he knows—he knows that if he concentrates too hard on Hermann’s mouth and his fingers and the one arm holding tightly to Newt’s thigh, he’s going to lose it.
As it is, Newt’s not going to last, even though he came just twenty minutes prior. Hermann is doing something filthy involving licking and sucking, and Newt can feel pressure building and the edges of his vision are getting all fuzzy, and he wants to touch Hermann—he needs to touch Hermann, so he reaches down and grabs his shoulder and strokes his hair and Hermann hums and Newt can feel the vibration in Hermann’s throat, and that’s it, that’s it—
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna—ah—”
Newt rides the waves of his orgasm and lets out loud sighing breaths. Hermann swallows, and it makes Newt shiver with pleasure.
“Hermann,” he whispers. His body falls limp, and he opens his eyes. Hermann stumbles through a crawl, pulling himself up to lay beside Newt. When they kiss, Newt can taste his own release on Hermann’s tongue.
“I need you to touch me,” Hermann murmurs, mid-kiss. “Please touch me.”
Newt nods. Hermann looks half-drunk with desire. His cock is warm and heavy in Newt’s hand, and when Newt slides his thumb through the pre-come at the tip, Hermann scrunches his eyes closed and presses his forehead against Newt’s.
“I don’t know—tell me what to do,” Newt stutters. “Tell me what you like.”
“Just that,” Hermann says. “Keep doing that.” He pulls off the glasses that Newt had forgotten he was even wearing, and throws a hand back to toss them on the nightstand. He kisses the bridge of Newt’s nose, then the corners of his eyes.
“You feel really nice,” Newt says, awkwardly.
Hermann chokes out a panting laugh.
“I mean, you’re the only person I’ve—”
Hermann groans, and Newt decides to play it up. He leans in close to Hermann’s ear and whispers.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever touched.” Hermann grabs tightly to his arm, and Newt smiles. He pulls back enough to look Hermann in the eyes. Hermann’s breath is warm on his face.
“I’ve never seen anyone like this,” he continues. “I mean, outside of porn, but that doesn’t count.”
Hermann laughs again, but it sounds strained. He’s started to lean in towards Newt, and his hips rock gently with each tug of Newt’s hand.
“God, you really are hot. Such a gorgeous genius math nerd.”
Hermann smashes their mouths together, and Newt can tell that he’s not far off.
“Please let me see you come.”
That’s what puts Hermann over the edge. His mouth falls open, and his eyes close even as his eyebrows raise. He makes soft sounds that only slightly resemble Newt’s name. He clutches Newt’s arm so tightly that Newt can feel half-moon nail marks. Newt watches as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. He thinks maybe it really is.
“Wow,” he whispers.
Hermann sighs, and Newt keeps stroking until Hermann puts a hand on his wrist to still him. Newt reaches for a tissue on the nightstand, and wipes off his hand and Hermann’s chest. When they’re both clean, Hermann shuffles closer, and nestles his face into Newt’s shoulder.
“So, you’re a cuddler, huh?” Newt asks.
Hermann pulls away, and Newt kicks himself when he sees the expression on his face.
“No, that’s good! I just wasn’t expecting you to be.” He pulls Hermann back, and they settle close together.
"I'm lying in the wet spot," Hermann complains, after a moment.
"I thought I got it all."
"Clearly not."
Newt bites his tongue so as not to laugh over Hermann's dry drawl.
"Well it's your jizz, so—"
"Don't use that word, it's so uncouth."
Newt snorts. He nudges Hermann to the side and reaches down to pull a sheet over the offending stain. Hermann settles in close again, and sighs with content.
The room is peaceful and warm. Hermann strokes Newt’s chest with his thumb. Newt looks up at the ceiling and feels his body relax and his breath even out.
“Did you enjoy it?” Hermann asks, voice thick with the lull of sleep.
“Yeah,” Newt murmurs. He takes Hermann’s hand and squeezes. “Thanks,” he says.
“For what?”
“I don’t know. Being awesome.”
Hermann’s laugh is mostly air—little puffs of cloud against Newt’s skin. He says something in a quiet voice, but Newt doesn’t hear. He drifts off to sleep with Hermann’s head pillowed against his arm.
---