Newt wheedles and begs one day after Herman left traces of a bite on him, a faint pattern of a bruise, a mark that doesn’t quite blend in with his tattoos, and then soon after Hermann is kissing his way down his chest and Newt’s brain suddenly sparks with the idea and he’s shouting it, begging instantly, but Hermann doesn’t.
Hermann is a prick who demands Newt ask for it when his mind is calmer, so Newt does, determined now, following after Hermann while he’s working, demanding Hermann fucking love him enough to hurt him, until finally Hermann rounds on him and pins him against his blackboard and pulls his shirt open. His teeth are sharp and he’s a total bastard about it, sucking the already sensitive skin into his mouth before bringing his teeth into play then pulling away again. He uses his tongue when Newt grunts at the pain, but a moment later and his teeth are back, scraping, biting down, until Newt almost can’t stand it. Hermann cycles, soft and then vicious, and even as Newt notices that and knows that Hermann thought about it, planned it, he’s whimpering for more, panting to the ceiling and dragging his hands through Hermann’s stupidly short hair. And Hermann hurts him, and loves him, and hurts him again until Newt finally slides a hand down to his cock and squeezes hard.
Hermann's teeth scrape hard over his nipple and Newt comes with a harsh, guttural shout.
(Hermann takes such good care of him.)
Hermann really does, is the strange thing. Giving him all these delicious pain boundaries.
“Ask when you are calm, Newton, and I will consider it.”
And it’s so caring that it makes Newton want to beg for everything.
The thing Hermann doesn’t seem to get is that Newton would give him everything he asked for and all the things he wouldn’t let himself ask for. Everything. Gladly, freely, with full consent.
Hermann just has to ask, but he never does.
And then Newt gets it, one day, when Hermann comes in his mouth and Newt moved when he shouldn’t have and some hits his cheek. Hermann stares and stares and then blushes and tries to wipe it away, but that’s it, right there. Why he says yes to everything Newt asks for, and what he wants, but is apparently too embarrassed to articulate.
After that everything Newt asks for has some element of marking in it. Come on his skin, bruises, bite marks, pen marks, chalk, anything that says clear as fucking day who he belongs with.
But then there's Hermann in the tattoo parlor, though. Watching with narrowed eyes, then getting him home, wound up and turned on and furious but waiting, waiting until the next day to press Newt’s face to the pillow and fuck him.
Not nearly as hard or rough as Newt wants, but gentle and slow, long fingers careful to avoid his new tattoos. Newt curses and wriggles and spits insults that turn to begging, but Hermann keeps it slow and steady and meticulously thorough.
It cracks him open and leaves him raw and vulnerable in a way that even being tied up and caned doesn't.
He hates slow, hates meticulous. It makes him whimper and murmur soft things into the pillows. It makes his legs shake with how long Hermann keeps him like that. He’s hyper aware of his weakened position like this, he can’t see, he can barely speak, can only track Hermann by touch and those Hermann keeps light.
It’s more sadistic than anything else they might do. Herman has him ass up and wide open and for the longest time he does nothing about it but stroke fingers inside of him and keep the lube wet and push Newt down when Newt tries to move. It has to hurt Hermann to kneel for so long, but there is no sound from him but rolling R’s and hissing enunciation as he refuses Newt’s every plea to please fuck him now.
Hermann loves to make him cry with how much he needs him. Newt is nothing if not expressive, but he doesn’t cry, never cries, except when Hermann takes him apart and makes him need.
"Please," he finally murmurs wet into the pillow, "please don’t leave me like this," and nearly cries when Hermann’s hands finally grip his hips and Hermann’s cock slides inside of him.
It’s so perfect after waiting so long that he starts shaking and can’t stop. Hermann slides his fingers around the very edges of his bandages, his teeth to the uninked skin of his neck, and presses.
The explosions… the just… the throbbing throughout his entire body, the care… he’s wired so tight by then that it's loud, painful, every last drop dragged from him.
He collapses down onto the bed, Hermann following him down with a quiet, pained grunt. Newt’s ambivalent about being in the wet spot, but he makes a hazy mental note to make certain Hermann’s okay.
In a minute.
After Hermann’s stopped biting a line up his neck and thrusting into him with an unraveling rhythm.
He should hate that, Hermann still fucking him after he’s finished, with others he would, but feeling Hermann lose control is a different experience from anything else, so he lets out little moans as Hermann comes and shakes when Hermann finally pulls out and falls to the side.
"I’m not getting up to let the dog out," Newt mutters once he remembers how to use consonants. "My spine is all melty. Like ice cream. We should get ice cream."
"We don’t have a dog," Hermann says. His voice is a little muffled by the arm he has flung over his face and the rise and fall of his blotchily flushed chest is hypnotic.
"That’s okay, we can get one when we go to get the ice cream." Newt watches the red start to fade from Hermann’s skin, and he would reach out to touch it, but moving is seriously not an option. Hermann’s got him, though, because he lets his arm fall out so that his hand is close enough to Newt’s that they can tangle their fingers together.
Hermann’s always got him.
(“You’re an idiot. We’re not getting a dog.” A short pause. “Or ice cream.”