[closed] the affliction of the feeling leaves me wanting more

[driftsintobuffetline]

WHO: Hermann Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler
WHERE: Their lab at Starktech, their apartment in De Chima
WHEN: May 10th
WHAT: Newt has a new toy. He's going to use it.
WARNINGS: NSFW Power suppression. Tattooing. Yelling, feels, maybe sexy-times? I honestly don't know with these two--they can make a mountain out of a molehill and lbr we let them.




It had been three weeks since the pair had stirred up a small discussion in Hermann's post with their failed-anon request for a power suppressor and now, with two such devices in hand, Newt hoped the fuss was worth it. Oh, it would be worth it. Granted, yes, he DID want them for the sake of not being a walking bio-hazard should anything remotely dangerous happen, but the real motivation? Not nearly so altruistic.

Not nearly so altruistic and he planned to never EVER tell anyone else exactly why. (It was no one else's business anyway, right?)

All that fuss for a power suppressor just to get a tattoo? Just to make sure his boyfriend didn't bite his lip too hard or treat him too roughly and end up in the hospital (or worse)?

Hell, even Newt could hold his tongue and not tell their teenage tech supplier that the new bracelet was more about getting jiggy with Hermann than protecting the masses. It didn't matter anyway. It WOULD protect people from Newt's powers should something go wrong, but the most important thing was, it would protect Hermann and Liebling on a day-to-day basis and let Newt get what was probably the most grossly sentimental tattoo of his entire lifetime.

All in all, it was totally worth it, regardless of what other people thought.

Still, despite Hiro's assurances that his power suppressor was more than adequate, Newt wasn't taking chances. He spent the better part of the afternoon running experiments:

A slice across a finger.
Suppressor ON: red blood gushed from his vein. Toxicity level: 0
Suppressor OFF: blue blood mingling with the already expelled red. Toxicity level: back to dangerous. Healing resumed, and the tissue had grown back over the cut in minutes. A quick wash, and he was back to safety.

In the reverse, just to make sure he didn't poison himself
Suppressor OFF: blue blood. He let himself heal, cleaned the blood off, turned back on the suppressor, then took a small dab of the blue blood and put it on the surface of his skin.
Suppressor ON: sample remained toxic and when placed on Newt's skin, the effect was a less potent version of the usual power. So, he was still somewhat immune, but not entirely. Turning back off the suppressor saved him from needing to use an antidote on himself.

...Good to know.

The only downside--and let's be real, it was a pretty huge "con" amid the long list of "pros"--was losing the Drift.

The silence in his mind was almost deafeningly lonely and the strong and aching longing, no longer accented by the Drift's reach for his other half, was entirely Newt's own.

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[driftsintobuffetline]

Newt inhaled slowly and closed his eyes, pressing his lips together as he indulged in the gorgeous tone of Hermann's voice, the tight press of slender fingers around his wrists, and just what that suggestion voiced meant. He didn't allow himself to open his eyes until the car stopped. With an equally measured exhale, Newt readjusted his glasses, shifted in his seat (skinny jeans were a mistake), and nodded.

He climbed out of the taxi a little awkwardly, all things considered, paid the fare, and then rounded the back of the car to come along curbside and collect Hermann.

Kissing him now would be a mistake--they might never make it up to their room with their dignity intact. That's why, as soon as the taxi pulled away, Newt did just that.

[mathemagier]

"Well I do hope that y-"

Hermann's pointed barb went unfinished, drawn instead against Newton's mouth and lost to the heated press of the man's lips. It was all he could do to keep up, and the urgency there threatened to break his resolve.

"N-Newton." He transferred his hand from where it'd naturally come to rest on the back of Newton's head to his shoulder, and forced a bit of distance between them. Something he probably wouldn't have managed if the drift had been active.

And much as he'd like to remain entirely smug about the state of Newton's jeans, they still had yet to navigate through public spaces until they reached their apartment.

Hermann licked his lips and swallowed. "Let's make it in the door first, because if I have to teleport one of us up there instead, I can't promise too much."

[driftsintobuffetline]

"Right." He nodded, not quite moving from where Hermann had pushed him back to. "Right. The door. I got this." Newt ran a hand through his hair, tugging it into disarray and trying not to pursue Hermann's tongue back into his mouth. "God, we're like a pair of horny teenagers, aren't we?" He laughed, a little rough around the edges of his voice, hand sliding down his face, across stubble and then to his collar to readjust it. "It's worse than the Dri--the you-know-what."

Which meant it was all Hermann--well, the both of them--but purely organic, purely mental and emotional and biological and not...not the Drift at all. Some of it was the newness of doing this without the Drift, and some of it was the promise of a little force and some power games, but it was still their attraction. Even if the Drift inspired them to stay together and pursue this further...it never ceased to be reassuring that they could just get it up for each other without the stimulation of the Drift.

Then again, Newt was pretty sure he'd had a science boner for Hermann since Day One.

"So, yeah, I guess we should--uh. Yeah. Come on before we get ourselves arrested for public indecency." He led the way, speeding up to open the lobby door, holding it for Hermann, anxious to get up to their apartment to the point of nearly corralling Hermann into the elevator. They had it blessedly to themselves and Newt positioned himself resolutely at the other side of the elevator, against the wall, opposite Hermann. Maybe if he stayed here, they'd make it upstairs alright. Hermann wouldn't incite anything, right?

[mathemagier]

Six floors. Six of them. Only six.

Hermann focused on the digital floor numbers above the elevator doors and tapped impatient fingers over the grip of his cane. He made it ten minutes, he could handle another two to get up to their floor and into their apartment proper. Even if he was all too aware of Newton's arousal and how easy it would be to step toward him and brush a hand over the front of his jeans in a very deliberate tease.

The doors could open anytime, he dutifully reminded himself. Imagine that bit of misfortune. Or maybe if he committed to snogging Newton against the elevator wall, any sensible person would have the decency to simply wait for the next one.

God, he was not that desperate. They really were like teenagers. How awful.

The doors finally opened on their floor, and Hermann reached back to pull on Newton's wrist, tugging him firmly out of the elevator and down the hallway, eyes already locked on the door he knew to be theirs.

Oh, what fun it would be to pin Newton against--

Keys.

Hermann fumbled with his, but his fingers did decide to cooperate after a moment, and he shoved the door open with a pointed look at Newton to precede him.

"Living or bedroom- choose one."

[driftsintobuffetline]

Every second was a painfully long wait and he didn't even need the Drift to guess what Hermann's mind was thinking, griping his cane like that, impatience written into his stance. Or maybe it was just what Newt wanted him to do, but regardless. They barely restrained themselves. It was less and less surprising to Newt that six months ago, they'd jumped each other barely fifteen minutes after their first kiss.

By the time Hermann had their door open, Newt had made up his mind on location even without the command. He tugged the keys free from the lock on his way in, threw them onto the coffee table in passing, where Liebling could play with them and Hermann could find them again, and shucked off his jacket en route. He turned at the start of the hallway to face Hermann and braced a hand against the wall, trying to undo the laces of his Converse shoes with the other without sitting.

"Bedroom, if you haven't guessed. Anyway, can't believe I made it without jumping you in the elevator," he said, running his mouth because he didn't know how NOT to. "I mean, I was halfway to hitting the emergency stop button, just to see what we could get away with before anyone came to get us out. Pretty sure at least one of us could have gotten off in that time--"

[mathemagier]

Hermann shut the door, locked it, and stepped out of his shoes. His jacket shrugged off and hung on their coat rack, he advanced on Newton with rather single-minded intent. He pulled on Newton's hair and pressed his height advantage, crowding him against the wall for a very thorough snogging that felt very much overdue.

The edge of urgency gradually tapered off, secure in the knowledge they were home, would brook no interruptions, or be subject to prying eyes. But of course that didn't mean he wasn't just as eager. His hand dropped between them, fingertips alighting around the shape of Newton's erection through his jeans. No real pressure, only a slight rubbing motion to draw attention toward the touch.

He released Newton's mouth for a smug smile.

"Oh yes," he rejoined lowly, with the same idle strokes. "You behaved for thirty seconds, as opposed to the entire ten minutes you spent being generally inappropriate in the back of the cab."

[driftsintobuffetline]

About fucking time, he thought, as Hermann's mouth finally crushed against his in a deep and urgent shared kiss. Newt's hands migrated their way under the back of the sweater-vest as his own back pressed against the chalkboard wall behind him, smearing against the seat of his pants a colorful city-scape with attacking Kaiju-sized Liebling that he'd drawn last week.

Newt practically whimpered, his hips pushing into the touch that Hermann refused to give enough of. Oh please. Oh please. Hermann was such a tease when he was pissed--or playing pissed, it really didn't matter which. He had a way of being vindictive that made Newt question his own sanity with how badly he enjoyed being the target. Glasses askew, his gaze followed the tilt of those lips into their smile and swallowed, eager and still so very hungry for more.

"Story of our lives, dude: Making a scene in the back of a cab." A small gasp that ended up being more of a clearing of his throat. "What're you going to do about it, huh?"

[mathemagier]

Hermann's smile split into something positively wicked.

His fingers trailed up to Newton's collar and deftly worked at undoing his tie. Sliding the fabric from around his neck, he nudged them in the direction of the bedroom door.

"Suffice to say, you owe me an apology and I intend to collect until I feel you've properly repented."

He circled around and set his cane aside for a moment in order to draw Newton's hands behind his back and tie his wrists together. Satisfied, Hermann settled on the foot of the bed and stripped down like he might on any other day and in no particular hurry. Only his body said differently, and he gestured Newton to the floor.

"I recall promise of you kneeling and expressing your remorse."

[driftsintobuffetline]

"Oho ho, is that how it is. Collect until I've repented, huh? Hope you can hold out that long."

He let himself get herded into the bedroom where he stood obediently, despite his words and general air of rebellion, and let Hermann do what he intended. Hermann had bound his wrists, but not gagged him or blindfolded him, which meant Newt was fully prepared to mouth-off and, oh yeah, definitely going to look.

How many times in the last six months had he seen Hermann strip? Innumerable. Well, not innumerable, and Hermann would have detested the mathematical hyperbole, but...many. A great many. Watching that slow reveal of that pale skin as Hermann untucked his shirttails and unbuttoned his top with nimble fingers (god, he loved Hermann's hands), precise and deliberate and frustrating--just like Hermann--and Newt was falling in love with him all over again. Why was he in turned-on by this gorgeous, nerdy pain-in-the-ass. He wanted him SO BAD and the damn skinny jeans were relentlessly tight.

"Seriously. SERiously. You finally get me non-toxic and this is what you go for." For all his remarks, however, Newt made no attempt to prevent his hands from being tied and, when Hermann was ready, he kneeled as commanded, smirking. "The greatest mathematical mind of our generation finally has his any-which-way with his boyfriend. And he demands a blow-job. Brilliant. I'd say I'm sorry," he said, leaning down to nudge Hermann's thighs wider apart with his cheek and chin. "But you know I'm not."

[mathemagier]

Hermann's smile faltered, attention drawn to the lips responsible for the warm breaths ghosting over his thighs. The flattery certainly helped Newton's case and it took some self-control not to lean forward and offer himself up.

"Y-yes, well I can achieve orgasm anytime I'd like, but without the drift, it won't trigger your own."

He swallowed, fingers digging into the edge of the mattress and the rest of his words came quick and a bit high, like he expected to lose them at a given moment. "..I will then be able to deal with you at my own leisure."

[driftsintobuffetline]

At his own leisure. Newt peered up at him over his glasses, pupils large, an enamored smile tugging at his lips. He raised his brows in a hopeful and surprised expression, as if Hermann managing to voice that plan was unexpected.

"Maybe I should take my time, too," he said with a wicked smile.

Newt, unlike Hermann, was not very good with delayed gratification--he wasted little time, shifting forward and sitting down on his heels, treating Hermann to the positively pornographic and rather ridiculous image him, tongue out and mouth open, licking up the length of his cock.

"Unless you'd like to take control?"

[mathemagier]

Fire followed in the wake of Newton's tongue. A sweet, burning pleasure that left him breathless and entirely transfixed on the man before him. He looked entirely too happy to be there and a chill crawled up his arms.

"You are.. positively sinful," he managed after a moment of thinking nothing else.

Hermann reached out tentative fingers to brush through Newton's hair and considered both options.

"Not this time. Perhaps that would be better with the drift active. For now, enjoy it while you can."

[driftsintobuffetline]

Oh yeah, and you're going to hell with me.

Grinning, he buried his face into Hermann's lap as Hermann stroked his hair. With the glasses on, it was slightly awkward, but he nuzzled his stubbled cheeks against Hermann before finally looking up.

"Oh, I intend to."

Eyes raised, he watched Hermann's face as he dragged his tongue over the head, then closed his lips over the top and sucked.

[mathemagier]

Hermann inhaled a sharp breath, hips twitching forward and shuddered through another wave of hot-cold lust as it spread from his thighs and crawled up his spine.

If he were the religious type, he'd be praying for his immortal soul right about then. Newton could be attributed to one of those vile succubi that seduced men and stole their life through their lips or some such. If any such claims held any water, then what on earth were they complaining about?

He could worship Newton for his proficiency in bed and in fact, planned to - at length - once this was over. Which oh, while it wouldn't be as quick as before, still wasn't likely to be particularly impressive. But really, what did any of that matter when he had Newton Geiszler's head in his lap? Mouth so exquisite his heels dug into the sides and his toes felt ready to curl.

"It's.. really.. quite unfair you're so good at this."