And another! Newt/Hermann, sensory deprivation lovemaking.
((this prompt has been buried deep in my inbox for forever… feels like time to actually write about it))
“You good?” Newt asks, adjusting the blindfold gently, letting his fingertips skate over Hermann’s cheek after. “I’m going to turn the lights on and off a couple times, I want you to raise your hand if you see any change, ‘kay?”
“I’m good. All right.” Hermann nods, fighting an amused smile. He hadn’t expected Newt to go to such lengths, the blindfold certainly felt sufficient. But Newt wants the experience to be as complete as possible… and isn’t that wholeheartedness one of the things he loves about Newt?
A couple of times, he does think he can tell, but it’s certainly not enough of a difference to detract from his own experience of being cut off, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his brain had reacted to the sound of the switch instead of a visible change in light, and just told him he’d seen it.
Newt slips the headphones on next, and the sound of gentle rain fills Hermann’s ears. Rain… and a stronger trickling sound, like a little gap in the rain gutter, pouring down onto flagstone. A fireplace, just barely. A steady heartbeat. He thinks there’s a purr mixed into it– it’s Newt’s custom white noise mix, he recognizes it as such, but he’s never really been able to isolate the sounds before. After a moment, and the feel of Newt kneeling on the bed close by and fiddling with something, the sound changes to an even whiter noise. There’s no fireplace, no defined trickle of water. It could be rain, wind, the sea– he thinks the heartbeat and maybe the purr are still there, lower, but this isn’t Newt’s usual relaxation white noise mix, it’s less suggestive of a real place. Hermann could just as well be floating in space as on the ocean, for all the white noise really tells him. Maybe the heartbeat is just his own, he’s not really sure.
Newt takes his hand, and traces letters carefully against his palm. It’s something he’s done before, on occasion– when nonverbal, and given Hermann’s hand to hold, he’s scrawled out desperate messages, and much less carefully than this, when in the grips of a panic attack. This time, Hermann has no trouble ‘reading’– TELL ME IF YOU HEAR. Newt’s noise-cancelling headphones are good, though– Hermann doesn’t. Not until there’s a particularly high-pitched sound, faintly made out through the gentle drone of the white noise track, that Hermann recognizes as Newt’s ‘metal screech’.
“Just barely.” He laughs. “I’m ready. I’ll tell you if I need to stop, I promise.”
OK, Newt traces, and then he draws a little heart, before releasing Hermann’s hand.
For a while, he just lies there, feeling detached from the world. The white noise is steady and lulling– not into sleep, but combined with the total darkness, it feels like a whole different state of consciousness. He’s aware of his own nakedness. He’s aware of the new sheets that Newt had bought for him and dressed their bed with, silky, growing slowly warmer underneath his body when they had been so cool at first touch. He’s aware of how many pillows have been tucked under and around him he way they cradle his body, keeping his limbs and joints as comfortable as possible and making him feel almost weightless somehow. It feels like such a long wait, when he’s cut off from sight and sound, but the thought of Newt sitting back and just looking at him… that thought keeps the wait from feeling lonely. The idea of being admired, of Newt picking out these sheets and getting him arranged just so in order to look at him, in order to enjoy the lines of his naked body… that has his cock starting to fill out, and he’s aware of every single minute twitch in a way he hasn’t been since his earliest experiments.
And then… oh, and then Newt touches him, and he feels muscles jerk and flutter, feels nerves sing out, feels blood rush, not only to his cock, but to his face, his chest, his inner thighs… Newt touches him, and he feels every little thing.
Vanilla and jasmine hit his nose, before the viscous drizzle hits his skin, and then Newt’s hands are sliding up from his waist to his shoulders, the slick oil negating any roughness from familiar calluses, and Newt puts just enough strength into it when he kneads at the muscles of Hermann’s torso, his thighs, and then Newt kisses him, and that kiss is Hermann’s entire world.
Newt’s body meets his next, and Hermann is so, so aware of the heat and the strength in that all-encompassing touch. The softness of Newt’s belly beside the firmness of his chest, the hairy calf pressed alongside Hermann’s own, the smooth inner forearm resting along his side… and Newt’s cock, hard and hot and trapped between their bodies with his own, slip-sliding together. Hermann can feel the hot pants of breath against his throat, but can’t hear the ragged sound of them, can’t hear the little grunts and groans he’s so used to. But he can hear himself, the sound building in his throat more of a physical feeling, the sound building in his head the only one he can hear, the loudest he thinks he’s ever been in bed, though he can’t judge how loud he really is. His orgasm undoes him, and he’s grateful for Newt’s continued, solid presence. Newt rutting against him for just a few thrusts more, Newt panting hard against his neck and mouthing unheard praises against his skin, Newt kissing him everywhere, darting, gentle bits of affection.
Newt’s body leaves his, and leaves him shivering, until the touch of a warm, damp cloth and a soft, fluffy towel. More kisses. Newt helps him to sit up, piles more pillows behind him and rearranges their bed for comfortable lounging, and blankets are draped over him, but the blindfold and the headphones remain.
The white noise stops first, and then then a straw is brought to his lips. Juice, something almost cloyingly sweet, but rather welcome just the same. Newt reaches up to flip a switch on the headset itself, and the noise of the room is no longer actively canceled, just deadened by the soft cushioning over his ears.
“Feeling good?” Newt asks, his voice soft.
Hermann’s first response is a wordless moan and a nod, and Newt strokes his face and gently removes the headphones entirely. The sounds of their breathing is so much, for a moment, that Hermann feels on the verge of being overwhelmed. They’re breathing in time, and it hits him hard, though he doesn’t know why.
“Drink.” Newt murmurs, and the straw is back. Hermann drinks until there’s no more. He can hear the rustle of the wastebasket, of the juicebox hitting the various wrappers and tissues and such inside.
He hears Newt turn out the lights, before removing the blindfold as well, and suddenly he has sight back, too, and in the dim light from just one small nightlight, he can make out Newt’s wide, expressive eyes, the sweet half-worried pout of his lips as he finds his own post-scene equilibrium. His own naked body above the covers, waiting for Hermann to be ready for them to just tuck in together.
Hermann cups Newt’s cheek, guiding him in for a kiss.
“Thank you.” He whispers, smiling, and he can practically feel Newt smile back, and the relaxation that overtakes him as he does.
“It was my pleasure.”