Newt Geiszler | Pacific Rim (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
groupiedrifter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ximilialog2021-08-16 09:42 pm
groupiedrifter) wrote in ximilialog2021-08-16 09:42 pm
MINGLE | The "Everyone's Tired and Hungry" Post-Mission Pizza Party
CHARACTERS: Everyone! A free-for-all general chill-out time, thrown haphazardly together by a mad scientist.
LOCATION: The Mess Hall
DATE: Sometime after the mission. Y'all know.
CONTENT: The Orb Crew tries to relax for a hot goddamn minute.
WARNINGS: Likely drinking or drunkenness, the usual party antics. Very mildly image heavy, NSFW for naughty threads, properly marked.
It seems the party has been properly set up for you all! But of course, there's an exuberant amount of 'Newton*' flair added to it, and people can find all sorts of random things — markers for drawing on the pizza boxes (which he distinctly requested, super important) cover the tables, and it's clear by the one designed like a Pikachu and a dinosaur that he's already began scribbling on them. He's also made... board games literally comprised of pizza boxes as well, including Chess and Connect Four, which is lovingly set up side-by-side on a table and done with intent to annoy.
They've got one deck of cards for games, no chips; you'll have to just make some of your own out of pizza box cardboard. The most grand of all creation appears to be a normal-sized Skeeball table, made of flimsy material, with oranges for balls. It may or may not last the night, but it sure works for now!
There's a very strong bottle of liquor from their last mission open for everyone, and, well, it will get you drunk quite fast if you're not careful. But it's also a Bring Your Own Beer situation; hope you guys asked Viv for some to plan for the party!
Lastly, there's classic bar rock playing from an iPhone rigged to a speaker that looks very very cobbled together, from loose bits and bobs from the lab's many boxes. If you go fiddle with that phone's playlist, you may be able to find a small collection of songs that aren't rock, but are likely from the 90's or early 2000's.
And yes, there is a couch with a sign on it, designated specifically for people who wish to nap. If they'd like. Don't be rude, let people lay down when they're sleepy. (Maybe Newton just put that there for him, honestly.) There are 50 pizzas total, which is practically a whole-ass pizza per person, so enjoy! (And thanks, Viv!)
Feel free to bring your own flair to the party, if you'd like.
These are just a few things for a m b i e n c e.
(*If you mention him, he will appear like a terrible omen.)
LOCATION: The Mess Hall
DATE: Sometime after the mission. Y'all know.
CONTENT: The Orb Crew tries to relax for a hot goddamn minute.
WARNINGS: Likely drinking or drunkenness, the usual party antics. Very mildly image heavy, NSFW for naughty threads, properly marked.
It seems the party has been properly set up for you all! But of course, there's an exuberant amount of 'Newton*' flair added to it, and people can find all sorts of random things — markers for drawing on the pizza boxes (which he distinctly requested, super important) cover the tables, and it's clear by the one designed like a Pikachu and a dinosaur that he's already began scribbling on them. He's also made... board games literally comprised of pizza boxes as well, including Chess and Connect Four, which is lovingly set up side-by-side on a table and done with intent to annoy.
They've got one deck of cards for games, no chips; you'll have to just make some of your own out of pizza box cardboard. The most grand of all creation appears to be a normal-sized Skeeball table, made of flimsy material, with oranges for balls. It may or may not last the night, but it sure works for now!
There's a very strong bottle of liquor from their last mission open for everyone, and, well, it will get you drunk quite fast if you're not careful. But it's also a Bring Your Own Beer situation; hope you guys asked Viv for some to plan for the party!
Lastly, there's classic bar rock playing from an iPhone rigged to a speaker that looks very very cobbled together, from loose bits and bobs from the lab's many boxes. If you go fiddle with that phone's playlist, you may be able to find a small collection of songs that aren't rock, but are likely from the 90's or early 2000's.
And yes, there is a couch with a sign on it, designated specifically for people who wish to nap. If they'd like. Don't be rude, let people lay down when they're sleepy. (Maybe Newton just put that there for him, honestly.) There are 50 pizzas total, which is practically a whole-ass pizza per person, so enjoy! (And thanks, Viv!)
Feel free to bring your own flair to the party, if you'd like.
These are just a few things for a m b i e n c e.
(*If you mention him, he will appear like a terrible omen.)
TRUE... TRUE.... ⚠ turn back all sfw souls who enter here ⚠
I like either! Bottom works, though; I mean, I've been getting used to it again. Practice makes perfect, right? [That's shorthand for I've been messing around a little in that department on behalf of someone else. The condoms and science-approved lubricant in his drawer probably would speak volumes enough, and he's not so sure if Kirk's been as invested as him about reteaching his body the last few days. Ha.
A few more buttons popped open reveals winding tattoos in blue-greens and orange-reds; the stylized creature inked on his collarbone vanishes down into a full piece, his chest always so carefully shaved to proudly carry the artwork. It's then that Newt leans in while Kirk's head is ducked enough to press a kiss to the man's lips in full — 'cus those are just his kind of lips, and the need for that hits him like a sledgehammer. He's always been so compulsive, jumping before looking, and the promise of someone loving him for a couple of hours makes him dizzyingly desperate to confirm this is real.
After a moment of thought, he pulls back, laughs apologetically.]
Sorry, I probably smell like pizza and beer. [Most of the ship does, probably, at this point. But...!] I should brush my teeth, huh?
[The door slides open. Thank god he hasn't lived here nearly long enough to trash it. He still has to account for empty bowls and crumpled cans and manic writings scribbled all over the loosest leafs of paper on a table in the far corner, but it's not quite the whirlwind nightmare that his room back on base used to be.
He does seriously miss the handful of figurines he'd had displayed on his shelf back on the PPDC, but... y'know. Maybe not the most mature look when you're bringing home a captain of a spaceship.
(And hey, if he's just saying he's a captain of a spaceship to get cool points, Newt ain't even mad.)]
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So he has them all over, Jim can only assume. Well, all over his torso anyway. That's kind of really awesome. Jim doesn't have much contact with tattoos in general, so he's absolutely eager to see the rest of that.
Newt manages to derail that thought when he leans in to kiss him. Another sound escapes him, more surprised than anything this time, and he clutches at Newt's collar while tilting his head to kiss him back. It's excited and hot but all too brief, and Jim grins that Newt's even worried about that. ]
Your breath is fine. Don't worry about it.
[ Beer and pizza are far from the worst things to feel the lingering taste of in a kiss, frankly. Anyway, he follows Newt into the room, looking around briefly, interest piqued by some of the papers scattered around. Picking one of them up, he looks it over while continuing to unbutton Newt's shirt with the other. ]
Interesting. We can talk about that later.
[ Or, you know, they can talk later, period. He sets the paper back down and both hands get to work on Newt's shirt, while he leans in to kiss him again, a little deeper and hotter than before. ]
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Man, some people are just eternally blessed with good genetics, aren't they?
His shirt slides off, revealing a more average body — fit and small, but with soft, less defined spaces, those tattoos vanishing into his waistline; they also seem to end just above his clavicle, too, where an endless sea of soft brown freckles dust across his shoulders and back instead. A canvas not quite filled in yet, it seems.
Breaking off the kiss, he wrinkles his nose and wriggles his fingers at Kirk menacingly.]
Off with his clothes — gimmie, gimmie! [He starts tugging Kirk's shirt off, ignoring, for the moment that the pants he's still got on are feeling really tight right now; nothing like your dick reminding you that you're a human being with biological responses to hot and heavy touching.
Thoughts like firecrackers pop off in his head, bright and electric and — now that he's hyper-focused on wanting to touch someone else — quite lovely.
Everything's good now. Everything's tactile and distracting, and it's not just him spinning down a drain with his own thoughts. Once the other man's shirtless, he reaches out, sliding his fingers through his hair in a bit of awe, their chests touching, the hard outline in Newt's pants clear as day against Kirk's thigh. Newt looks at him for a moment, almost a bit star-struck.]
............ Man you're hot.
[Newton is more than happy to stroke that ego for you, bud.]
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Luckily, for now Newt's keeping him very much distracted, with all the kissing and touching and those very fascinating tattoos. As for Newt's body, he'd say it's anything but average, but then he's never liked that definition. Hard to determine what's considered average, and the way Newt presents himself is certainly incredibly unique. That's more attractive to him than a finely sculpted body. Once he tugs Newt's shirt off of him, he runs his hands over his torso, tracing some of the lines of the ink. He's absolutely fascinated, mesmerized almost, and he's a little surprised when Newt goes for his shirt next.
The enthusiasm draws a laugh from him, hands quick to grab and tug at his shirt, pulling it off in one quick, eager move. Underneath it, Jim looks very much different from Newt: a more defined body, for a start, clean lines of muscle and very little fat anywhere, and to add to that, he also has no hair anywhere, and no marks or scars at all, as Newt should be expecting if he remembers well. He also has no tattoos, obviously. ]
Thanks. I get that a lot. [ He grins like a cheeky little bastard, one hand snaking down between them to shamelessly cup Newt's bulge, giving it a nice, firm squeeze and rub. His own pants are getting a little tight too, but he's not quite as hard as Newt yet. Now, that's excitement. ] You're not too bad yourself.
☠ another subject line reminder that this is a dirty thread ☠
[He sinks to sit down on the edge of the bed, gesturing down with one hand downward.]
Lemme get your shoes off for you. [The way he says it, you'd think he was just offering a helping hand to a friend. He's nothing if not helpful, okay? No man left undressed! One shoe off, second shoe goes flying to the side, with not a care in the world for where anything actually lands around here; if he finds underwear on the lampshade, then it's clearly been a successful night, right? He'll just have to make sure they aren't left there for Hermann or Yzak or someone equally stick-up-the-assy to point out.
He reaches for Kirk's pants next, too, working to shimmy them down and letting him kick them loose once they're down at his ankles; he can make out a larger than average dick through the fabric of his underwear, not quite so erect as Newt. It's not a King Kong mammoth dick you'd see in the most outlandish Pornhub video, but Newt's a little guy, okay? He's got a tiny ass! He's gotta be able to walk tomorrow, not in a week's time!
Whistling, he says exasperatedly, mostly to himself:]
Oh, geez. You're gonna wreck me. [He pulls Kirk's underwear down fully — 'Jailbreak!' his mind supplies — and adds, glancing up:] Here — lemme get that for you, too. [Newt takes the other's half-hard dick in his mouth without any sort of hesitation, gently at first, and then in earnest. It's a sort of easy skill as he closes his eyes, almost blissful as he works to stroke him into fullness with his mouth. This whole chubbed business isn't gonna fly here, after all, and if there's one thing he's super confident in it's using his mouth on someone to get them excited.
He's practically got a seventh PhD for it. Don't cite him on that, just trust him.
... Besides, it's one of the very few things that'll get him to shut up for a sec.]
it saucy 🍆👅 proceed at your very own risk
[ So far Newt's giving off more of an excitable dorky vibe, which to be fair seems to be working wonders for Jim. He loves a partner that makes him smile, that gets a laugh from him every so often while they're getting hot and heavy, and so far he hasn't had a reason to get that stupid smitten grin off his face. Newt's cute, okay.
He does get a more puzzled look from Jim when he gestures to his shoes. That's... kind of a weird request. ] Uh... alright? [ He huffs, amused, but lifts his feet off one after the other so Newt can get the shoes out of the way. Okay, at least that wasn't about some weird kink like he thought he was about to learn about Newt, and moments later they're on the pants. Much, much better, his own hands going to his waist to help push his pants down and past his thighs, kicking them out of the way.
And no, he's not abnormally big, but he's definitely bigger than average. He's also as groomed and tidy around the base of his dick and in his groin area in general as he is everywhere else. It's probably obvious by now that Jim is a pretty vain guy, he likes to take care of himself, and he breaks out into laughter as soon as Newt speaks up again. ]
I'm sure you'll manage. I'll be real gentle with you, though, I promise, [ He teases, but it's short-lived. It's like Newt's geared to one-up him on every corner, even when it doesn't look like he's planning it. It just keeps happening. Laughter and grins die out fairly quickly when there's a mouth very suddenly on his half-hard dick, a full-body shudder rolling down his spine, making him groan and close his eyes. Yep, there we go, no longer laughing now. ]
O—kay. Holy shit, Newton, [ He manages somehow, followed by a gasp, one hand resting on Newt's shoulder while the other weaves into his hair, near the base of his skull. That's all he can think about to show some encouragement without entirely overwhelming him. ]
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How's that?
[He leans in to slide the flat of his tongue across the underside of his length, slow, content with the hand in his hair. His last 'serious' boyfriend loved these; didn't like a lot else about Newton, come to find out, but hey — the sex was good, way back when. Feels like the day he joined the PPDC was the day he practically forfeited any relationships, though; the world was ending, and they didn't have time to 'fuck chicks and suck dicks'.
... Not on the clock, anyway.
Ugh. He sounds like a big ol' slut when he thinks it that way.
Shuddup, Newt.
He grins back up at Kirk.]
Don't you go blowing your load from a BJ, El Capitan.
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He sucks in a breath and shudders when Newt pulls back, goes back in, makes him groan and roll his eyes just a little. That's more than enough to get him completely erect, though he's not quite pushed anywhere near the edge for an orgasm to even be a consideration just yet.
The sight that Newt makes might just get him there, though. Wide, bright eyes, freckles, glasses and all. Jim groans for a whole different reason. ]
I'm not... quite there. [ His fingers run through Newt's hair, a light tug as he bends low to kiss him, his other hand fixing those glasses up. He was going to get them off him, but now he kinda wants them to stay right where they are.
Both his hands then move down to Newt's pants. Not fair he's the only one completely naked here. ]
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He's not usually hyper-focused on staying trim and well-maintained, but considering he'd practically put his body out there on the network a few days back, he's prepared for the occasion. His tattoos continues in swirling reds and oranges past his hip bone, vanishing into pubic hair at a full stop at the crease where pelvis meets thigh. He lays there for a moment with his pants tangled over his doc martin boots, breathing softly in the dim lights with hands on his stomach; he looks a bit like he's waiting to be judged by a jury of peers.]
Oh — uh...! The nightstand drawer — [He points up over his head sheepishly, using one foot to start jimmying the shoe off the other foot. He shouldn't be keeping the dude waiting too long; what if he had somewhere else to be after this? He doesn't know his schedule, okay, maybe he had other things to do.] I got lube and condoms there.
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His mind is somewhere between 'that's awesome' and imagining some tattoo artist hunched over, inking those into Newt's body, while his hands run up his legs, then his sides, back down his stomach and over his hipbones, thumbs tracing over bolder lines of the tattoos. When Newt speaks up again it takes a few seconds for him to catch on, or to even make sense of what he's saying. ]
Condoms, [ He repeats, frowning. Then his eyebrows raise. ] Oh. You mean the little... you know, I've never used those. I can if you want me to, but you might have to help me out with that.
[ He'll just stretch out over Newt so he can reach the nightstand and grab both those things real quick. He's not in a rush at all, for the record, but it seems smart to get those things now rather than when neither of them feel like pulling away from each other. ]
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He snorts a laugh, kicking his last shoe off and running a hand along Kirk's stomach as he extends over him. His eyes trace up toward the nightstand again, to the sound of the small drawer sliding open. He used to be a lot more risky with his sex, y'know; it's honestly a miracle he hadn't been murdered by some serial killer. Either way, life happens, lessons are learned, and sex is safer. Mostly.]
I mean... if you don't mind, I don't mind. Just as long as lube's involved. I've learned my lesson on skimping out on the lube way too long ago. [Grinning, he hooks his foot around the back of Kirk's thigh, pulling him a bit closer.] What, you have some magic space STD-preventers, or something? Or are ship captains just given monthly screenings to make sure they're not carrying xenomorph germs?
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Mm, something like it, [ He answers, letting out a soft laugh when Newt hooks him in and tugs him closer. It throws him just a little off-balance for a second once he comes back with the lube and the condoms (just in case Newt changes his mind or something), but he sets them down on the bed nearby and props his hands on the mattress, hips sinking down on top of Newt's. He moves them in a slow rolling motion for good measure, breathing a little harder at the friction. ]
Think we can... ah, save the sex-ed lesson for later. Unless you're really interested. But I don't— have any diseases or anything, promise.
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Well, since you promise!
[He stiffens in surprise at the sudden pressure against his hyper-aroused dick, a soft, exasperated whine slipping through his lips. He reaches over and gives his arm a little slap, but it's clumsy and without any power to it.] You bastard, I wasn't ready for thAT. [Another high noise is bitten back behind his teeth as he shifts against him again, and despite the apparent complaint, that hooked leg instinctively pulls Kirk closer. Logic and overthinking takes a backburner to emotion and want and all the things lustful, just as he'd hoped leaping headlong into this.] Okayokayokay, just get me ready, you big cocktease! I'm dying here!
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A hand reaches down to get a grip on Newt's thigh too, holding it up and somewhat steady while he bears down again. God, that's good. Though if Newt's reaction is anything to go by, it looks like he might not last very long even like this. ]
Geez, didn't know we were on the clock, [ He teases, but does ease up on the pressure, and eventually peels himself off Newt with another quick kiss. He shifts onto his knees instead, settled between Newt's legs, then reaches for that bottle of lube and uncapping it singlehandedly, all the while with his other hand lazily stroking Newt's dick. ] You're not dying. Maybe a little patience wouldn't do you any harm once in a while, you know...
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He practically whines when Kirk pulls way, his head shooting up to watch him settle between his legs and collect the lube. He huffs:]
A little patience? No way!
[If you know Newt for more than a few minutes, you'll know patience is not his strong suit. But it sounds like Kirk's already all too familiar with the guy's basic flaw of not sitting still, as evidenced by the way he sits up a bit on his elbows and wriggles a little like someone in a dentist's chair.]
You know, this station could get slammed by a giant surprise meteor or something, and croak before we finish...! [He's clearly trying to complain and rant through Kirk's slow, methodical strokes, and most of what he says is strained by breathy groans and twitching hips.] And I don't know about you, but I'd be so pissed if I got blue-balled by death itself...!
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I think you're just worried you're gonna come too fast before we're done, [ He says with a shameless grin, winking down at Newt. God, okay, he looks really nice like that. Jim doesn't let him wait long despite the teasing, and moves both hands so one can grab his ass, spreading just a little wider, while the other moves down and lubed fingertips rub and press against Newt's opening.
This is where he doesn't want to rush too much. Eager as he might be, Jim doesn't want to hurt him or make this any less pleasant, so when he pushes just two fingertips inside, he does so slowly, testing out how much he can stretch and push before he can even think about thrusting any deeper. ]
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At first, Newton looks mildly offended, like he's gonna dispute that fact — but then his lips press together, and he almost seems to give a sort of nod to himself, like 'ah, yeah, that's kind of a worry, too'. He's hopeless. He couldn't exactly argue it when his dick's rock-hard and begging for mercy at this rate; but he tries his best to be good and patient while Kirk presses his fingers in.
That patience lasts, like, five seconds, but still! He wriggles his hips, legs parting more. He's still a little tight, but it's nothing he can't handle, he thinks, and for every inch he sinks in, Newton's breathing hitches.] C'mon. You're killing me here. I'm gonna file a complaint!
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Mm, you do that... I'll even deliver it to my superiors myself. Captain Kirk took too long to fuck me.
[ Jim can only imagine the insanity of a formal complaint like that delivered to his superior officers. But you know, for the purposes of this banter back and forth, he'll roll with it.
He also pushes his fingers in deeper just as he finishes his sentence, his pace speeding up as he spreads those fingers out, really gives Newt's ass a nice stretch. Feeling him sufficiently loose, he then curls his fingers, shifting his hand just so that he can press and rub his thumb against the perineum at the same time, a slow, gentle massage that's applied from both ends against Newt's prostate.
Not that he's aiming to get Newt off before they get to the main attraction, but he likes to show off sometimes. And he's damn good at this.
But just in case Newt can't handle that for too long, he also uses his free hand to pour some lube onto his own dick, quickly stroking himself until he's decently coated and ready. It's only then that his fingers ease up on the massage, very slowly pulling out as he shifts closer, tip of his cock pressed to the entrance just where his fingertips still linger, keeping Newt spread loose for him. ]
1/2
[Which is about all he can really bring himself to say, soft, breathy sounds of pleasure replacing whatever spot in the left hemisphere of the brain is designated for speech. His hands scrape through either side of his hairline, eyes fluttering shut from the attention — from the touch that leaves him aching worse, precum leaving a wet trail against his thigh, but the moment Kirk hits his prostate he's jolted, hips flinching and gasp pressed against the back of his wrist.]
Hell yeah, dude, right there.
[His glasses are folded up in one hand, and he quickly shoves them far overhead, because he's pretty sure the dude could make him break them in his bare hand if he really wanted to. The coolness of the air that gives him goosebumps along his arms juxtaposes against the flush of heat that burns his face as he feels Kirk pressing forward. He reaches up, hand running over the top of his shoulder, resting against the nape of his neck. He shudders at the burn, because no matter how prepared he is at first, he's a little dude, and Kirk's bigger than his usual fair.
Hooking his leg again around Kirk's hip, he pulls him in, determined to have as much of him as he can. His voice is quiet, compared to the obnoxiously loud guy that usually runs all over the station: quiet and firm and almost supportive, as if he's making sure Kirk's more comfortable with this than he is.]
Keep going; keep going, I can handle it. [The tip's always the hardest part. But once it's through, there's just a pressure, a fullness that builds and replaces whatever discomfort there'd been; Newton sighs gaily at the feeling, not having felt it in way too long, and — dizzied by lust and still a little tipsy — he looks up at Kirk with some gratefulness.] You're — you're great. I'm totally out of my league here.
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Now fuck me like one of your French girls, loverboy!
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At least one of them needs to have some control on what's going on.
Now, control doesn't mean that he's going to keep things slow, particularly when he's starting to wonder how long Newt might last. And fuck, he looks too tempting right now, such a cute, pliant mess of panting and flustering spread out on the bed. He liked the glasses, though, that's a shame... but yeah, probably best to get them out of the way before there's an accident.
The first push has him gritting his teeth, jaw clenching and releasing with a sharp groan when Newt curls his leg around him, heel pressed to the small of his back and pulling him in. The first push is harder, indeed— after that Jim has little issues with burying deeper, each inch making his breath pick up, both hands clutching to Newt's ass just to keep him steady.
He looks down at the remark, vaguely smiles at Newt, very much close to just kissing him senseless, but then he goes and pinches his nipple, and Jim lets out a sound of protest. ]
Ow! I'm on it, I'm on it—
[ (Why do you have to be like this, Newt?!) Just gonna grab that wrist firmly, yanking it away. His other hand hooks around the back of Newt's leg, pushing it back slightly, offering a bit more leverage and access to himself as he starts rocking his hips, a slow but steady build of pace as he eases them both into it. ]
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Oh, shit- [He says, and then gasps out again, chest heaving up as he arches, shifts his hips a little, because — yeah, yup, right there, that's the spot (he's good, this is good, real good).] Oh, yeah — that's — so fucking good —
[It's a rambling string of words, fingers twisting in the sheets and legs tense around Kirk's midsection. He pulls Kirk into a wanting kiss, eager to keep his mouth as electrified by the touch as the rest of him is right now. He's already pretty fucking close to finishing, just a few thrusts and he'll be completely undone, but that's one benefit to being a dude getting fucked by a dude; no worry about the other not being able to finish, too, because there's a tight heat for them either way, one of which every time Kirk rocks into leaves Newton gasping a strangled, gratified noise. He can fuck 'im as long as he needs to; Newton's more than happy to provide.
It's predictable, but — ]
Harder —
[ — Newton wants wants wants, and so he babbles for it between kissing and groping for smooth skin.]
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Not that it looks like Newt's going to need much longer, the way they're going. Jim still doesn't hold back much, even though the first few thrusts are more testing the waters, finding just the right spot, the right angle, and drinking in the little sounds and expressions Newt makes. He knows he's doing it right, but it's all the more satisfying to catch those twitches and moans when a sharper thrust pushes Newt back into the mattress; his hand on Newt's knee hikes his leg up just a little more, lifting those hips up, and he rolls his body again, panting as he pushes in deep.
As for the predictable request, it's one he's all too glad to oblige. Slower thrusts pick up pace steadily, skin coming together with louder, quicker sounds the more relaxed Newt gets, and the easier it becomes for him to bury into him. His own body bends forward a little more, kisses sloppy and distracted but still there between each movement of their hips coming together, fingers curling and twisting, digging harder into flesh. He'd normally reach down to jerk Newt off but something tells him the guy's not gonna need that kind of stimulation to get there. ]
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See? You're totally wrecking me.
[... Man, he forgot how nice it was to have sex sometimes. Two-person, normal, passionate kinds of sex. Not just you-and-your-hand or some seedy place without the proper prep or common sense to play it safe, but genuinely good sex — and it overwhelms his senses in the best possible way, leaving him a debauched, pliant mess under the other man, chin tipping back and mouth falling open to be caught by Kirk's lips soon after. The pleasure that spikes through him leaves him gasping and mindless, and all the other bullshit with missions and regrets and monsters whites out into something easier, something better felt.
Words tumble out of his lips, messily constructed sounds like Fuck, you're good — Good, good, so good — you're so good — and he all but cries out as he finally comes between the two of them, the warmth hitting his stomach in short, hot bursts while he tightens quaking legs around the other's middle. He can feel himself clench around Kirk as he keeps thrusting; Newt's fucked and been fucked by plenty enough people to feel the force and speed of a man on the edge of finishing. So Newton puts his hands on Kirk's shoulders, urging him forward until their foreheads nearly meet, kissing his neck and the sharp of his jawline as he gasps, curls upward and breathes:]
Wanna see you come, Captain Charming; wanna feel it; all of it.
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Sounds become sharper too, though his pace isn't quite so desperate yet, it's certainly quickened when he knows Newt is so close to his climax. So when he comes it's no surprise at all to Jim, even though he gasps and pants louder at the sight, hips bucking harder, pushing Newt down onto the mattress throughout his orgasm.
Eventually his pace slows, but it doesn't stop. His heart's pounding hard, and he can feel that lovely clench of muscles around his cock, urging him to get lost in that heat when he's so close to finishing already. His breath's harsh and quick, and he's easily guided lower, his own lips latching over Newt's for a hot second there. He hardly needs the encouragement to start moving again, pace steadier at first but each thrust deep and a little rougher than before, each of them coupled with a grunt as he buries deep.
He's back there, teetering on the edge before long. Pleasure builds and then he's too eager to chase after it to slow down. His hand moves up Newt's leg and curls tight to his side, keeping him steady as his pace picks up into something faster, faster, far more erratic and uncontrolled than before. Paced breaths turn to sharper gasps, then his face twists as he comes with the next few thrusts, spilling deep into the tightness that envelops him, a loud moan pushing past his lips, his hands both clutching tight to whatever he can for some kind of balance when his head swims and spins at a dizzying speed. He's not going to slow down for a little while there either, at the very least not until he's spilled it all and starts to come down from his high. ]
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hope you like hideously long dream tags :') im sorry!!!
FANTASTIC
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