“I told you to wear more sunblock,” Hermann chastises as he rubs aloe gingerly onto Newt’s bare back, an angry red that’s visible even through his tattoos. It doesn’t matter how gently he does it–Newt still flinches away at each touch, grumbling and swearing under his breath. Hermann presses a kiss against the nape of Newt’s neck in apology and Newt eases up somewhat, leaning back into him. “Now look at you.”
“Shut up,” Newt groans. “Goddamn, that’s cold.”
“If you’d stop fidgeting we could get this over with quickly,” Hermann says. Newt obliges, and Hermann smooths the rest of it across his skin with no more complaints and a good deal more kisses to his neck. “There,” he announces, wiping his hands off on Newt’s spare beach towel and tossing it to the floor. “Was that so hard?”
Newt immediately turns and kisses him. “You’re the best husband ever,“ he says, a touch sarcastically, and starts plucking at the buttons of Hermann’s striped linen shirt. Hermann lets Newt slide it off his shoulders and onto the bunched up comforter at the foot of the bed, where Newt’s own shirt lays, without complaint. “You know, seeing you in short sleeves every day is like a weird wet dream.” He kisses Hermann again, nipping at his bottom lip.
Hermann smiles. “Mm. One you approve of?”
“Oh, enthusiastically,” Newt says, kissing Hermann again, and then tries to fall back against the bed and pull Hermann down on top of him. Hermann doesn’t budge.
“Wait,” he says, but Newt’s running his hands up Hermann’s sides and sucking on his neck in a way that’s very making it very hard for Hermann to string together coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. “Wait, you’ll–ah–get the sheets dirty.”
“Who cares,” Newt sighs, nuzzling against him. “It’s just aloe, dude. We’re gonna get them a lot dirtier in a few seconds anyway.” He punctuates his sentence with another little nip, this time at Hermann’s throat, and starts rubbing circles into the skin at Hermann’s lower back.
“It’s messy,” Hermann protests weakly.
Newt huffs before flipping their positions with surprising gracefulness. He straddles Hermann’s waist and bends down to resume kissing his neck, and Hermann hums happily. “Problem solved,” Newt says, and gives a languid downward roll of his hips. “You’ll just have to keep your hands off my hot bod. If you can manage.”
“How innovative of you,” Hermann says, and tangles his fingers in Newt’s saltwater-thickened hair. “Now do that again.”