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Hermann clomps into the lab wearing his stupidly huge parker, his stupidly short and stupidly wide trousers, and his stupidly stupid saddleback oxfords and Newt looks up from his work and glares at him and his stupid fucking ensemble. That he fucking hates. With a passion. Loathes.
"Get what you need from HR, Gramps?" Newt tosses some viscera sloppily into a bucket he'd set just his side of the line--he has a vain hope that one day he'll manage to splash some on Hermann and at least one pair of his ridiculous trousers will be destroyed.
"I have 20 copies of the official complaint form now and do not think I will not use them if you so much as think about throwing that effluvia on my side of the lab." Hermann glares back as he takes the parka off and hangs it over the back of his chair. Now his stupid tweed jacket and his stupid argyle sweatervest are on display and he can see Hermann's stupid beige shirt buttoned all the way up to his fucking neck with no tie and who fucking does that?
"Whatever, dude," Newt says with a roll of his eyes, smirking as Hermann huffs. "Hey, you wanna pass me one of those? I want to make a complaint about having to share my workspace with an eyesore."
"I beg your pardon?" Hermann erupts, spinning on his heel and stalking towards Newt.
"You heard me. You dress like my grandfather's grandfather." Newt tosses a stray vein at the bucket and it nearly tips but luck is not with him. "Are those clothes even from this century?"
"At least I dress with a modicum of respect for my workplace. You look like you're ready for a Kidz Bop video." Hermann says with vicious sneer, toes hovering just on his side of the line.
"Really? You're throwing a thirty year old insult at me?" Newt gives an ugly laugh, strips off his gloves and throws them at the bucket--one of them lands over the line and he cheers on the inside--and stalks over to stand inches away from Hermann. "You look like you fell on a pile of old people and mugged them for everything that didn't smell of naphthalene and piss." He bumps his chest into Hermann's and raises an eyebrow, chin sticking out in challenge.
"You're an insufferable little twerp and your platforms and large hair are fooling exactly no one." Hermann says huffing like an angry bull, face red and blotchy with anger.
Newt's suddenly got his fingers wrapped into the lapels of Hermann's stupid, scratchy tweed jacket and he's yanking him down and he doesn't actually want to start a physical fight with the esthetically challenged asshole so he does the next best thing--he kisses him.
Smashes his face against Hermann's ridiculously wide mouth would probably be a more appropriate description but the fuck of it all is that Hermann's kissing him back. He bites at Hermann's lips, tugging roughly on the lower one until Hermann opens his mouth--no doubt to insult Newt some more--and then Newt's shoving his tongue in to shut him up and pushing him back across the room until they hit Hermann's desk. He pulls away and pushes some papers aside and then he's smacking his hand down on the desk and pushing at Hermann's shoulder.
"Up. Up. I am going to fucking destroy your wardrobe." Newt says as Hermann hoists himself up onto the desk and slides back.
"I'd like to see you try." Hermann glares and his hands are scrabbling to undo Newt's jeans. "I doubt you've got the upper body strength necessary to open my wardrobe."
"I will set it on fucking fire, dude," Newt says as he yanks Hermann's fly down and he thinks he hear's a tear but he doesn't give a shit. He yanks Hermann's dick out through the hole at the same time that Hermann gets his stupidly large hand on Newt and then Newt's scrambling onto the desk and straddling and shoving himself down against Hermann's crotch. "I will start a bonfire and spread the ashes and salt the fucking earth so none of your stupid fucking clothes will ever fucking grow there again.“ He reaches back to tug open the top drawer and pulls out a tube of lotion, squeezing a generous dollop into Hermann's hand before tossing it over his shoulder.
"How did you--" Hermann starts with a confused glare but Newt cuts him off with a rough kiss as he wraps Hermann's hand around their dicks and encourages him to start pumping.
"You think I don't know you get off in here? Sit in front of your stupid chalkboard and stare up at the numbers while jacking yourself? I know everything, you idiot. Handwriting of god? Ha! Handjobbing of god." Newt grabs Hermann by the hair and kisses the sputtering indignation from his lips as he thrusts into the grip tightened by rage. "Fuck, yes. Harder, Hermann, you fuck. Come on, make me cum all over your stupid sexy sweater-fucking-vest. Gonna destroy that motherfucker."
Hermann's other hand is suddenly in Newt's hair, yanking his head back so he can bite at his throat. "You like my clothes," Hermann says with a sneer in his voice and presses his teeth into the straining tendon.
"No I don't. No I don't," Newt says hurriedly, whining as Hermann's hand speeds up. "Faster, dammit. Faster."
"You find them arousing," Hermann continues and Newt opens his eyes to see a knowing smirk on Hermann's face.
"No. No, I don't." Newt grabs at Hermann's shoulders and he's so close to coming he can taste it. "You dress like, like, the worst parts of, ah ah ah oh fuck, 3 different stodgy old professors and it's not hot. It's not fucking hot. Fuck. Fuck. It's not. I hate your stupid. fucking. clothes."
Hermann laughs like he just won some unknown argument and tightens his grip, stripping their dicks hard and fast. He clenches his fist in Newt's hair and yanks it back and Newt's cumming, striping over the diamond patterned knit and Newt wishes he could see his cum staining that visual atrocity. Hermann latches onto his neck and drags his teeth down the light stubble and then he's following Newt and adding to the mess. His hand slips from Newt's hair to the back of his neck and Newt falls forward, leaning heavily on his shoulders.
"Told you I'd destroy your fucking wardrobe," Newt says with a slightly hysterical laugh as he drags his hand through the mess they made. "One item at a time." He smears their cum into the knit and then raises his hand. "One." He wipes his hand off on Hermann's jacket. "Two." Dragging his hand back through the cum, Hermann comes to himself and grabs Newt's hand before he can leave a handprint on his trousers. "Fine. Two down."
Hermann looks down at the damage Newt's done and growls, pushing Newt forcefully off him onto the floor and standing to do up his trousers.
"Next time I'm going for three." Newt sprawls on the floor, laughing up at Hermann as he huffs and grabs his parka and shrugs it onto his shoulders.
"There isn't going to be a 'next time'." Hermann glares, pulling the zipper up with finality.
"Sure there is," Newt says as he raises his hand. "High-five for hatesex."
Hermann stares down at him with an unreadable expression that shifts quickly to a withering sneer and stomps out of the lab.
Newt lays on the floor laughing and zips himself up, pretending he's not thinking about how his hand felt rubbing his cum into the surprisingly soft wool of that excessively ugly thing.
And how much he wants to do it again.