Oh god, now I think Newt riding Hermann is one of my kinks. Can I request another smutty prompt? Reunion sex, after one has been away or busy working or something for a while, and both are pretty eager to get back into it. One of them is incredibly impatient, and the other encourages them to slow down and savour everything, because they have time now, and should use it to their full advantage.
((aw yis– I’m gonna go ahead and write this as kind of a sequel to this, because I didn’t really get to incorporate riding.))
Conferences are the worst– conferences that they don’t attend together, at any rate. Hermann doesn’t mind traveling with Newt, nor does he mind presenting his work to a crowd alone, but being apart from Newt for days rubs him wrong now, in a way that’s only partly down to their drift. Perhaps it’s a large part– their drift is so different from any other that no other data can correspond perfectly, so he can’t measure it against the experiences of pilots, even those who are in or enter into intimate relationships. Throwing something alien into the mix, using Newt’s jury-rigged equipment, it all altered things.
Traveling without Newt and without special PPDC dispensation, though, that’s the worst. Traveling through an airport is a special new hell every time, as he shuffles awkwardly through the scanner– hell already, and he glares defiantly at the agent whose job it is to look at the scan, until he’s sure there will be no comment– while his cane is X-rayed on the conveyer belt with his carry-on luggage, having to store it on the plane, where it doesn’t fit in the overhead bin or under the seat, but the flight attendants tell him he isn’t allowed to just hold it between his knees, and it’s so physically awkward to slide it down alongside his window seat, and even more awkward to retrieve it after.
When the official powers of the PPDC were behind him, he didn’t have to fly commercial, it was all air bases, and always with people who knew who he was. When he flew commercially with Newt, it was awful, but they could take each other’s minds off if it– Newt is a nervous flyer, not that he likes to admit it, and Hermann has learned that it takes braving something even more frightening to make any kind of a flight seem like no big deal, although he’s had some success with just reminding himself that he’d braved a helicopter ride without fear after coming face to face with a kaiju. There’s a difference, though, between a short jaunt and a transatlantic flight.
Hermann would keep Newt’s focus off of his own nerves, and Newt would keep Hermann’s mood from souring over all the little indignities that came with traveling while disabled and trans. At least, Newt would always try, and he usually did a good job of it, Hermann thinks.
This time, though, Hermann had his work to present, and Newt actually had a rather important experiment to run in his lab, and Hermann wasn’t about to set the de-Blue-ing of the Pacific back just so he could have his hand held.
They video chatted from Hermann’s hotel room, and Hermann got a copy of the video taken of his presentation to send back to Newt, and it went all right, but Hermann just couldn’t relax, not until he gets back home and into Newt’s arms again.
“How was it?” Newt asks, kissing Hermann’s cheeks, stripping him on the way to their bed.
“Hell.” Hermann groans. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. You know, masturbating with your cock isn’t as much fun when you’re not wearing it? I mean, the video helped and all, but it kind of sucks not getting to hold you after.”
Hermann snorts.
“What? I like holding you after.”
“I’m exhausted and sweaty. But… Do you– Would you– still like to hold me?”
“Yes.” Newt kisses his lips this time, before holding his face and giving him a quick moment of serious eye contact. “Yes.”
“I could wear that cock for you.” Hermann smiles, relaxing down onto the bed once Newt helps him out of the last of his clothes. “If you’re happy to do all of the work. I’m not too exhausted to watch. And it still feels good.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm, collar me first. I hate putting up with all that travel nonsense without you… I just want to be yours.”
“You’re sure you’re not too exhausted? Hermann, I promise, if you just want to be held without all the sex stuff first, I’m good. I didn’t just miss having you here to fuck myself on, I missed being with you.”
“I know. I’m not sleepy, just tired. Physically, I mean. But I could lie back… and I want to. I missed being with you in every possible way, and this is one of them.”
“Sweet, yeah, good.” Newt nods, getting the harness out. “Just making sure. But yeah, I can do all the work, babe, you just enjoy the show.”
He puts the collar on first, giving the ring at the front a little tug just to enjoy the way that Hermann relaxes at the proof of how secure it all is, and how secure he is now by extension. They pick out the right toy together, Hermann mostly deferring to Newt on the matter– he sometimes has his preference, but tonight he only cares about which will get Newt off, and not about the aesthetics.
Despite telling Newt that he would need to do all the work, Hermann finds himself rocking up, wanting so badly to get Newt off after how long it feels like they’ve been apart. Newt places a hand on his chest, shushing him gently, hand sliding up to grip the ring of Hermann’s collar, and that works, calming him almost instantly.
“Hey, hey… Let me take it slow, you earned a rest. Don’t you want this show to last all night?” Newt grins at him, blows a little kiss before letting go of the collar and sitting up tall, showing himself off as he lifts and lowers himself.
Hermann nods, relaxing underneath him, just watching as the toy appears and disappears one slow inch at a time, as Newt touches himself. The friction feels good, even slowed down, and Hermann knows that if he asks, Newt will make sure that he gets off, but he doesn’t know yet if that’s even what he wants. He just wants to watch Newt, and he’s at that place that long trips sometimes bring on, physically exhausted but mentally wide-awake, he’d felt wired before Newt had put the collar on him, and even now he still doesn’t want to fall asleep, he just wants to relax… maybe an orgasm he doesn’t have to work for would help with that. Or maybe it would tip him over into being able to sleep off his physical exhaustion.
Newt is captivating, and Hermann is glad he’d been convinced to lie back and let it take as much time as possible. He thinks he could probably watch Newt all night… the way his tattoos seem to move, the details sliding out of Hermann’s focus until it’s just swathes of color, because Hermann, overwhelmed, can only focus on one thing at a time and he wants it to be Newt’s face for a while, wants it to be that bitten lower lip and the flutter of his eyes closing no matter how hard he tries to look right back down at Hermann.
In the end, he doesn’t even need to ask– when Newt is finally done, he gets the harness off and gets everything cleaned up, and drops a kiss to Hermann’s hip.
“Can I?” He smiles, licks his lips, grins even brighter at Hermann’s nod.
Thankfully, he doesn’t make Hermann’s pleasure last just as long– after the slow tease of being underneath Newt, Hermann doesn’t need a lot of build-up, nor does he want to go through it. He just wants to come, and Newt is good at that. Newt has the softest, sweetest mouth and the most agile tongue of anyone Hermann has ever had the pleasure of knowing in any kind of intimate fashion, and a good deal of insight into what makes Hermann tick. Hermann doesn’t even think that part is drift-related, he thinks it’s just because Newt pays attention in bed.
The cuddling after is nice, with Newt tucking blankets around Hermann before he can get too cold. Newt only leaves the bed to make them a cup of chamomile tea, sharing it with Hermann in careful sips, between gentle kisses.
“You know, we could do that again tomorrow.” Newt says, with the kind of little chuckle he uses when he’s only halfway joking. “Make up for lost time?”
“With you putting on a show, you mean?” Hermann yawns. Yes, yes, he could definitely sleep now…
“You know me. I love to be looked at. Especially by you, and especially when we’re in bed.”
“Mm… yes. All right. I’d like that a lot, then. It’s my favorite show.”
“Your favorite?” Newt grins, though with his eyelids drooping, Hermann hears his expression more than he sees it. “Even better than that one you’ve been mainlining on netflix?”
“Even better.” Hermann promises, feeling Newt’s lips brush his forehead as the teacup is taken away.
“You’re my favorite, too.” Newt says, and it’s a nice sentiment to fall asleep to.
jiokuy-k said: Insert Series here AU where the main cast live in the universe of How To Train Your Dragon. Today is the big day, they will be meeting hatch-lings to see which one bonds to them. Bonus points for Dragonriders of Pern references.
(I actually loved the Dragonriders of Pern books as a kid, and I already wrote (I didn't finish it, but I wrote it) a HTTYD au, so I hope it's okay if I just do a Pern au!
These 'verse comes with lots of specific terminology, so I'm putting very quick definitions down at the bottom if anyone wants them. For those who are familiar, I'm gonna ignore/alter some stuff, such as the rigid gendering and some of the hierarchical structures.)
Hermann feels out of place on the hot sands, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, trying simultaneously to not burn his feet, not put too much weight on his bad leg, and to not stare at the huge gold dragon curled around the pile of shining eggs in the middle of the expanse of yellow sand surrounded by the rising, rocky amphitheater.
The other boys and girls standing around him look scared too, but excited, chattering in high voices and waving at parents in the audience and tugging at their simple white clothes. Hermann doesn't feel excited. He doesn't see the point. It's not that he doesn't want to be a Dragonrider; of course he does. More than anything. More than life. Ever since he was very young, a vivid memory of being permitted a ride on a dragon's back, the land falling away beneath him, his father's Hold a tiny little speck of rocky outcropping, the spread of the green fields, the sparkling ocean in the distance, but most of all the evening sky over his head, all around him, stars coming out one by one, the wind through his hair, the sense of an eternity of space and freedom and silence. And he'd never wanted to land. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. Since then, ever since then, like a single burning spark inside him, the desire to be a Rider.
But it doesn't matter how much he wants it. There's no way any of the dragons about to hatch - he can hear the tap tap of the dragonlings against the egg shells from here, even over the good-natured sounds of the crowd - will imprint on him. No one is expecting them to. No one even expected him to be chosen for the hatching; not him, ugly, too-smart-for-her-own-good, second daughter of a Hold famous for not approving of dragons, with a father who hates him and a lame leg. All anyone has ever expected of Hermione Gottlieb is a useless childhood and a mediocre marriage to the son of some tiny Hold in the middle of nowhere. It doesn't matter that Hermann doesn't want that, doesn't want to be useless, doesn't want to get married, doesn't even want to be a girl. Isn't a girl (no matter what everyone says). That he wants to be free. That he wants to fly. None of that matters to anyone.
And besides, there are far more promising candidates here today. A pair of equally tall and scary northerners, boy and girl, who swaggered onto the sand without the slightest hint of fear; a tiny, smirking, dark haired boy who Hermann has heard was raised in a western Weyr and knows all about dragons; a tall, dark skinned boy, right on the edge of being too old, who nonetheless has a ferocious, commanding presence about him; and, of course, Newton Geiszler. There, right on the front edge of the crowd of children, hopping on both feet. There are two bronzes (a gold, two bronzes, three browns, two greens, three blues) in this brood of eggs, and everyone knows he's bound to get one. His mother is the Rider for the Queen whose brood this is, and rumor has it that Newton Geiszler has the rare talent to speak to all dragons.
There's no way Hermann has a chance. He glances for a moment up into the crowd. His father is here, of course; he's master of one of the biggest Holds that pay tithe to this Weyr, of course he's here. He's glaring at Hermann. Hermann is not sure whether his father wants Hermann to imprint or not; if he imprints, then his father doesn't have to deal with a useless daughter who insists she's a boy anymore, but he also has to deal with having a child who is a Rider when he so loudly disapproves of Riders (and more specifically, paying tithe to Riders).
Suddenly, a sharp crack rings across the sands, and Hermann starts and looks wide-eyed to the pile of eggs in the center of the sand. One of the eggs has tilted to its side and a huge crack appeared. It's starting.
The crowd of children surges forward, Hermann hanging to the back uncertainly. He's been to Hatchings before; he has vague memories of children stampeded by their fellows or savaged by attempting to intercept a dragon that was not the proper match for them. Newton Geiszler, he doesn't fail to note, surges forward enthusiastically, despite being of the tiniest children here.
The egg that had fallen to its side cracks fully apart and a tiny green dragon climbs out, making a raw sort of cheeping noise, surprisingly close to the sounds the baby bird Karla once tried to save made. And a red haired girl in the crowd of children, not one Hermann had much noticed, cries out rapturously and runs to the dragon's side and says, "She says her name is Coyeth!" A great cheer goes up from the crowd.
After that, three or four eggs seem to break open all at once. Hermann stops a few meters away from the eggs and watches nervously, trying to stop his heart from jumping in his chest every time a dragon emerges, trying to stop it from sinking when each one doesn't so much as look at him, let alone declare their names to his heart.
One of the bronzes cracks open; Hermann looks automatically at wide eyed Newton Geiszler, who is darting nervously from egg to egg, but the bronze hatchling ignores him as much as it ignores Hermann and goes instead to the authoritative boy he noticed earlier. "Tanth," he says simply, awe on his face.
Next is the single gold egg, largest in all the pile of eggs, and the crowd goes intently silent, everyone craning forward to see who it will choose. The tiny dragon wobbles uncertainly on the sand, and for one mad second Hermann thinks it's going for Newt - maybe he's like me! - and then sways to the side and goes to the northern girl. She smiles, victorious and radiant, and declares the dragon to be Alpheth.
After that, there is a sense of decline. There are still eggs waiting, but only a few, none of the top ranks - the second bronze went to the Northern boy when Hermann was watching the gold - and no one seems quite interested in the crowd. A few of the left over boys and girls are beginning to cry with disappointment. Hermann feels too hollow to do so. He hadn't expected otherwise. There aren't even any greens left. He really has no chance anymore.
Hollow, hollow is the right word; the consuming spark of his life, the animating force, has gone out inside of him, everything is darkness. Nothing left other than the life has father has set out for him. Perhaps he'd better stop calling himself Hermann, even here in his thoughts, just accept his fate.
He doesn't want to think about this. Not right now. If he does, he'll cry on the sand after all, and that's too humiliating. Instead, he focuses his attention on Newton. He still hasn't been Imprinted, unexpectedly, and he's starting to look desperate, his eyes shining in a way that threatens tears, and he's darting from egg to egg, brown, blue, brown. It's possible they won't even hatch. Not all eggs do. The thought seems desperately sad. It seems equally sad that Newt won't imprint. Hermann had been envious of the boy's assured fate when he came here, angry at his lighthearted attitude, as if he'd never felt doubt all his life. Now he pities him deeply. How much worse to fall from hope to despair, than from despair to hollowness?
The blue suddenly cracks, all at once, a single huge split that falls apart into three pieces, a tiny, wet dragon falling out. Newt runs to it and for a moment Hermann is glad for him, thinking that the imprint was formed. Then-
Then-
I'm Asterith.
The dragon looks right at him. Into his eyes. And the hollowness within him explodes, a thousand points of light bursting into life, a whirl of color, warmth, the purest joy imaginable, the utter certainty that you'll never be alone again. A whole new life and mind there inside of him, asking him a thousand questions, calling him Hermann and overflowing with a love and happiness equal to his own. Hermann doesn't remember moving, doesn't remember anything, but a moment later he's kneeling on the sand before the blue dragon - Asterith - weeping and smiling and utterly ecstatic.
A moment later he hears Newton choke out "Otath!" and looks over to see the boy kneeling before a brown dragon. Their eyes meet, for just a second, and they smile at each other, mutually overwhelmed by their good fortune, before returning focus to their - their - their dragons.
TERMS. Pern: a planet, populated by humans and sentient dragons, extremely hierarchical society. Imprinting: Each dragon, upon hatching, forms a mental/emotional bond with one human being they choose, who then becomes their rider. It's an extremely profound bond. Usually, only a rider (and other dragons) can speak to their dragon, but occasionally someone will be born who can speak to all dragons. Hold: equivalent to a feudal estate. Weyr: a large hall where dragons and their riders live. Gold, bronze, brown, blue, green: the colors of dragons, each denoting a specific type. Gold is Queen and is the boss, each Weyr typically only has one or two golds, Bronze is second in command, only a handful per Weyr, Brown is third, blue and green are smaller and quicker, most common and lowest in rank. In the books, the dragon kinds are gendered (gold and green are female, but only gold can reproduce; bronze, brown, and blue are male) and dragon gender = rider gender, which is why it's significant that Hermann gets a blue. I felt like it was kinda old fashioned to have the system be so rigidly gendered in the books, so I really wanted to try and complicate it by having a trans character. Also, I think the books say the gold and bronzes are smarter as well as bigger, but I'm ignoring that. (I love these books, but Anne McCaffrey was a product of a different time period, if you ask me.)
Feel free to send me more au prompts, if you guys want!
thehorrorinsymmetry replied to your post:thehorrorinsymmetry replied to your post:*looks up...
it doesn’t necessarily cover genderfluid but i like to think afab trans man/masculine herm chooses his name based on the german mathematician hermann weyl
thehorrorinsymmetry replied to your post:thehorrorinsymmetry replied to your post:*looks up...
lars would refuse to call him that but imagine the first time his siblings do ;_;
aww and if people are like "wow what a nerdy name," hermann's chest just puffs with pride because yeah, it's a nerdy mathematician's name, and he chose it all by himself ty B-)
lars gottlieb. arrgh. now I'm imagining karla ruffling his newly shorn hair and calling him hermann, IT'S SO CUTE!
