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It hurts. Every single time Newt coos and calls himself 'mummy,' promising all sorts of magical beasts undying, easy affections as if unconditional love is natural. A right - not a privilege to be earned. Something so far outside of what Credence has ever known that it leaves an ache in strange places. At first, it lingers in his chest. A haunting phantom pain like dying again and again. As if everyone he has come to love never existed to begin with - no Tina, no Queenie, no Jacob. No one to save him. Just pain and betrayal in the dark. Nothing but emptiness when he had been promised belonging.

Then that bright smile shifts his way, and day by day, it doesn't turn away - not for long. Newt always turns back. Stars are distant. The sun sets, but Newt smiles. His eyes see even if they don't stare - not in the same penetrating way everyone else does. Sitting on the overly soft sofa, Newt lets the beasts come over to him or go as they please. Never startles even as Credence sits beside him, collapsing to rest his head into the warmth of Newt's lap. No - only long fingers softly running through his hair. Nuzzling into the thigh beneath, Credence wants in the place behind his ribs - deep and lowering toward his stomach where it knots and tangles like the words he can't find to explain what he needs from Newt. He wants to beg - look at me. Speak to me like them. Let me call you mummy and have you hold tight to me. 

Such wants don't stay innocent for long. The knot descends lower the next time. Heat building into his groin as Newt idly pets his head, soothing even as others come and cuddle in the space all around them. Perhaps that is why a strange restlessness itches to the surface. Black sand - coarse and smudging into ash in places - slips out. Credence had done so well. He had kept it inside for so long, but the beasts scatter as Newt wraps Credence in his arms, pulling the younger man more on top of him to embrace him fully - unafraid of the darkness inside of him, but it isn't the warmth of his touch that still the indecipherable panic rising in Credence - no, caging Newt into the cushions - a hand on either side of his head - Credence looms above for only a moment, heat radiating between them before collapsing, letting the weight of his body pin Newt down. Newt runs a hand down Credence's back, softly crooning and shushing with nonsense tones like a mother would her babe, and it aches - because everyone in the suitcase - no matter how old - is Newt's child. From the youngest hatchling to the erumpent still looking for a mate, every single one is his baby, and the longing shifts all around like the sand because even if Newt tells him, "Mummy's here," Credence won't be special, and what began as a need to burrow in the strange normalcy Newt creates of love becomes a need to be the singular recipient. 

But Newt doesn't whisper anything of the sort. He doesn't speak in the third person, taking the position of Credence's mother though Credence finds the idea still painfully enthralling. The words are just comfort - promises that Credence is safe and loved, and they work. Weeks later, the puzzle gets another piece when Credence watches Jacob pick up his and Queenie's baby from her cot. The man beams - love overflowing as he murmurs, "Papa's here, sweetheart. I've got you." 

Queenie's across the room, but her eyes are glued to the two of them. Pride and love and contentment swirl before she blinks and focuses on Credence with a small wrinkle between her brows for only a moment, but she knows when she stumbles onto a secret, so she pulls herself away and giggles before kissing Jacob and then the baby. Everything from their nicknames for each other to the softness in their eyes is impossibly saccharine. The three of them are practically incandescent, and the want rolls around like a writhing serpent inside Credence. Unspeakable but screaming - that. I want that. 

A few days later, one of the mooncalves gets sick. Cuddling the little one up against his chest, Credence searches for Newt, but he's let Credence take over comforting the mooncalf as he creates the potion needed to help.

It's easy to try it out - test the way the words taste, "Daddy's here."

Warmth spreads from his chest to his toes, and the mooncalf nuzzles into his shoulder, releasing a sad little bleet, but when Credence looks up, the wide-eyed stare from Newt can't be from the animal's cry. Caught - the wizard blinks rapidly before retreating into his potion-making. Neither speaks about it until hours later when the creature is safely tucked into a bed close to the one Newt maintains in his case for himself. 

"Mummy was taken," Credence offers when Newt doesn't ask. 

Newt smiles - small and conflicted - as he says, "Of course."

Credence leaves the conversation there. Weeks and months of watching, waiting, comforting and caring for the beasts with whispers so similar to Newt's own solidifies the need inside of him. Newt goes from freezing to pretending he hasn't heard a thing. At first, Credence believes the phrase has become as normalized to Newt as his own mantle of Mummy, but a shiver quakes through the older wizard when Credence's voice goes low and deep and soft. Though he isn't sure it means the same thing - means there is an ache in Newt like the heat that rushes throughout him whenever Newt says, "Mummy," but he hopes and dreams and wishes until the case is hidden under a bed in a hotel, and they aren't inside, so no creatures will be scandalized when Credence comes up behind Newt, wrapping arms around the thin waist, finally revealed from underneath that blue coat, and whispers, "You're safe."

Newt nods. His movements jerky and stiff when approached from behind like a skittish animal. "It was a bit of a closer call than I intended," he admits, and Credence shushes him before he can say anything else. 

"Everyone is safe," Credence reminds him. "You did such a good job - were such a good mummy, keeping our children safe," he whispers. His breath is hot, fanning against the back of Newt's neck, but the wizard shivers. "Daddy's here," he presses, and the tension tightens, winding just that bit more. "Daddy's got you, Mummy." And Newt melts into his hold, pressing back into him with a soft gasp as if he can't stop himself.

"Credence?" Newt tentatively whimpers.

The dark-haired man hums. Spinning Newt, Credence lets the sand go. Their clothes slide from their bodies as Credence cups Newt's face and pulls him into a soft kiss. The sort of kiss he's seen Queenie give Jacob. The overwhelming gentleness where words fall short. 

Skin against skin - warmth spreads and they fall into bed. Newt blinks rapidly as if having difficulty processing what's happening around him. His hands find a hold on Credence well enough, and his hard length presses right back against Credence's. However, here, Credence is lost. He kisses and caresses, but for all his words, Newt isn't a woman. The barely there knowledge of relations which Credence acquired doesn't extend to men, and he isn't sure how to make this good or last, but before uncertainty can set in, Newt whispers a spell, calling a pot of some substance to them. 

"Lubricant helps ease the stretch," Newt informs him.

Dipping first one finger into the opaque substance, he arches, rubbing a finger against his entrance before penetrating himself. Perhaps he intends for Credence to simply watch, but sitting still would only bring the sand as he grew nervous, so Credence dips his own fingers and allows Newt to instruct him through the process. It's a lot of watching for pain and shifting Newt's body to his desire. One finger becomes two.

"Look at you," Credence gasps. "You're taking me so well already, so warm and tight for me..." his eyes darken as he glances up at Newt's face. Biting his bottom lip, the light haired wizard gasps when Credence adds a third finger. "I love you," he swears into Newt's skin, and the way the wizard's eyelashes flutter over his high cheek bones will be ingrained in Credence's memory for the rest of his life. 

"Please, love, I can't...take some of the slick and..." Newt arches as Credence rubs that place inside that leaves Newt writhing as if shocked. 

Credence doesn't need to be told twice. One hand around his cock, running over with the lubricant before he presses in - in - in and the pleasure echoes through Credence, sending the obscurus in him into a panic, throwing the jaw against the far wall and the lid against the opposite. Luckily, the pot doesn't shatter, and upon recognizing that, the rest of the world vanishes from Credence's mind. There's just him, inside the tight heat of Newt's body, and a want burning and bubbling beneath his skin. Sliding out, Credence claws against himself to keep his head above the rushing need to come. Filling Newt is tempting, but he needs Newt to want to do this again and again and again, only with him - but the need swells, and holding back his body as he keeps his thrusts even and slow leaves his mouth moving.

"So good - so good, such a good mummy - you're so beautiful," Credence whispers, watching the undeniable want grow in Newt's eyes. "You'd look so good, holding our baby..." his fingers trailed down Newt's muscular stomach. Running with beasts ensured the lean wizard's physique, but the idea of it softening. Of a swell to his chest and a gravid rounding to his stomach coiled the heat tighter in Credence's belly. "Want to make you a mummy. Be such a good daddy to our babies. Love you so much." 

Newt arches, gasping, "Please-please-please," until his hands tightening on Credence's shoulders, his legs wrapping solidly around the dark-haired wizard's waist, dragging him closer and deeper. 

"You like that?" Credence breathed. "A baby of our very own - growing right here." Pressing against the flatness, Credence groans. 

Soft and slow becomes rushed and erratic. Heat rises. The room shakes, and the two beds dance against the floor as their lips come together. Kiss after kiss, somehow the connection between their lips remains sweet even as their hands pull each other close as if they can meld into a single being, and if only that were true. Black curly hair - freckles and bright eyes - a baby of their own. Wizards or not - there's been no mention of magic capable of giving Credence his wish, but his obscurus yearns alongside him - which might not be a good sign, but he wants so much, and this is the first non-violent desire that it has wanted too.

His thoughts cloud his vision, and soon, Credence comes. A few strokes has Newt following. In the mess, side by side, the two wizards curl around one another.