Newt is drooling on the reports again. Graves makes a note to wean him of this. He isn't sure that Picquery will keep buying his excuses of spilling water over them.
He snaps his hips in quick succession, delighting in the way Newt tightens beautifully around him. They had only recently forgone the condoms once they received an all clear on their tests. That had been a weekend to remember. The muffled sound of his desk scraping against the plush carpet is punctuated by Newt mewling his name. Graves rewards his favourite (his only) personal assistant by sinking his nails into the flesh of his hips, leaving little red crescents that will probably sting when he sweats and when he showers. Graves wonders briefly if Newt would allow him to tie those delicate wrists of his up. Smoothing a hand down the line of Newt's back, he knows that he would. Without hesitation or doubt.
"M-Mr Graves..." Newt sobs, hands still gripping the edge of Graves' desk. He is a mess of tears and saliva.
"Yes, darling." He gentles his thrusts, leaning over to pepper kisses over freckle speckled shoulders. "What do you need?"
Newt tilts his head, nuzzling against his brow. "A kiss?" He whispers as if he isn't sure Graves would allow such displays of affections.
Snaking a hand between Newt and the desk, he pulls him upright, holding him against his chest. Catching Newt's lips between a sigh and a moan, he slides his tongue into him. Mapping out the taste of himself in Newt, he ravishes him from both orifices. Dimly, he is aware that Newt's voice is rising in pitch. Pleased, he moves his hands back to hold at his hips, resuming his thrusting.
"Mr Graves! Love this, love how you take care of me so good. Love you so much..." Newt rambles, releasing the desk and reaching back to grasp at him. "You. Love you."
Graves grits out a curse, tilting his head to sink his teeth onto Newt's shoulder as he comes in him. Newt stiffens, breath stuttering. Graves can pinpoint the moment he orgasms all over his desk and those infernal reports.
"You've made quite a mess, darling." He chides, soothing his words by mouthing them over Newt's jawline.
"Well, you've made a mess of me. It's only fair." Newt hums, lax against him. Graves sits back on his chair still tied up in Newt, hands stroking over sweat slicked skin.
Pressing a kiss to the side of Newt's head, tasting the salt there, he grins. "You're going to have to type up another report for me. I can't send this one to Picquery." Laughing when Newt moves off him, both wincing when he slips out of Newt.
"Only if you are nice." Newt teases, going to his knees. His eyes are glinting with mischief and not for the first time, Graves wonders if he might be half-fae.
Smiling, he spreads his thighs, bracketing Newt between them. "For you, always." Graves purrs, cupping the back of Newt's head as he leans down to take his cock into his mouth.