Prompt Post No. 1
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“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.
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