Warning: unapologetic smut! This story was originally published on Ao3 May 18th, 2017 and is being uploaded here for the sake of my own ego.
Queenie serves Newt supper and offers herself for dessert.
Her dress rasps beneath his calloused fingertips when he squeezes her before boosting her onto the counter. She giggles while using a silk-clad leg to tug him closer for a wholly indecent kiss, moaning into it until he breaks away with a ragged sigh to kiss her cheek and jaw while inhaling her sweet, clean scent.
"Watch your whiskers, honey," she says, her voice low and breathy in his ear. Newt recalls their last time doing this when he'd inadvertently scratched her sensitive skin into a seething pink mess, and touches his jaw while murmuring a depilatory spell. She smiles delightedly when his offensive stubble disappears before cradling his smooth cheek for a scandalous kiss. She isn't shy with her tongue, and he's gasping for breath when he finally pulls away, his suit suddenly too tight, too itchy, too close.
"It's okay," Queenie breathes. "I'll take care of you, baby." She runs her hand up and down his chest while toying with the buttons on his waistcoat. He catches her eye plaintively before using his thumb to wipe away the remnants of her pink lipstick, preferring her fresh-faced and natural when they do this. "You're sweet," she whispers off his thoughts and kisses him with her nude lips.
Newt pulls her close while hungrily sinking into her mouth, his fingers kneading the curve of her hip through her silky dress. Queenie pushes his waistcoat off with a happy sigh, and he reluctantly releases her to allow it to fall in a rustle of fabric. She moves to the buttons securing his shirt as he tugs off his bowtie, and clever teeth ring his nipple when she shoves the cotton off his shoulders.
His head rolls back with a groan as she samples his skin before moving up the column of his neck. She sucks a lavish red bruise where his throat and shoulder meet before claiming his mouth. Newt nips at her lips just to hear her moan while tugging at the fastenings of her dress. Pink chiffon whispers with his eager fumbling until she gently pushes his hands away and uses her wand to divest herself of the garment. It floats to the waiting dressmaker's dummy as she pulls him close, her slender fingers dusting over the placket of his trousers.
"Do you want to do this?" she asks, meeting his eyes. Newt nods and mentally pushes his want forward so she can see it, before ducking his head to kiss the shelf of her jaw.
"I want you," he tells her honestly, and she voices a happy sigh while tugging him closer.
Queenie kisses his temple before nibbling the shelf of his jaw. She drags her mouth lower to leave another red mark, opposite the first, while his fingers musingly trace the lace details on her step-ins.
He cups the swell of her breasts and pinches her nipples before slipping a finger beneath her garter, jewel-tone pink vibrant against her pale skin. She sighs wantonly while dropping her head forward to watch his hands, her blue eyes wide with delight. "Yes, like that," she encourages when he sinks into a crouch, and he nips her hipbone with a hungry sound.
Newt finds the faint outline of her nipple through the rayon of her step-ins and sucks it into a point before flicking with his tongue. Her fingers tangle in his hair when he switches to the other side until she presses his crown gently, urging him lower. He groans her name in compliance, but not before kissing the entire length of her corset-covered stomach, loosening the buttons covering her feminine core.
Russet curls rise before him as he sinks, a well-maintained briar crowning the delicate perfection of her sex. She moans his name as he takes a knee before her and fists his hair when he gently parts her with his thumbs. Newt cuts his eyes to her face as he leans forward, watching her watch him until he playfully flicks his tongue over her quim. Queenie drops her head back with a stuttering sigh as her hips jolt forward, and he hides his smirk in her damp curls as he gets to work.
He maps her folds with typical scientific acumen, cataloging her texture and flavor, watching her face carefully for signs of what works and what doesn't. Thrusting his tongue into her causes her to sigh blissfully while sucking her outer lips makes her purr like a kitten. Broad, sweeping licks over her clit inspire her to moan deliciously as her belly quivers so he focuses his attention there, her silk-clad thigh hot against his cheek, her fingers tugging his roots until her entire body vibrates and she comes, her cunt fluttering against his lips as he laps up her essence.
Queenie tugs at his shoulders until he rises to face her, her tongue curiously flicking his smirking lips before kissing him.
"That was good, honey," she gasps into his mouth, "but now it's your turn." Her fingers are steady while working the buttons of his fly, and she parts the fabric to reach inside and brush him before cupping where he is fullest. Newt groans when she massages him before wrapping her fingers around his length, her teeth nipping the edge of his collarbone as she pushes his trousers past his hips.
"Queenie," he growls in warning, and she uncoils from her hunched posture to kiss him. He wraps his fingers around her shapely thighs to tug her closer to the edge, intent only on getting inside her. She rakes her fingernails over his stomach before guiding him to where she wants him most. Newt finds her eyes when he slowly feeds himself into her, prolonging the torture as she gasps his name and digs into his back.
They kiss lingeringly as he rolls his hips against hers, increasing his pitch until they settle into an organized rhythm. Queenie winds her legs around his waist as he fingers the lace edge of her stocking and the strap of her garter, before reaching down to cup the curve of her ass. She moans blissfully when he squeezes a handful of skin to deepen his thrusts, bringing them together hard when he breaks their kiss to watch her face. She is sweaty and rumpled and unmistakably well-loved, and she gasps his name with every third or fourth exhale around a small, disbelieving smile.
Newt sinks his teeth into her shoulder when her stomach and thighs begin to quiver, sensuous ripples intense enough to pulse through his cock. Her fingernails cut deep when she comes for the second time with an ululating cry, her vocalizations buzzing against his lips as he laves her throat. She milks him until he groans her name helplessly, and her lips are quirked in a smirk when she comes down enough to initiate a kiss.
"Queenie," he breathes, his tone wholly reverent, and halts their rocking to focus on her lips. She eventually breaks away to giggle, and her chest is still heaving with the aftermath of orgasm when he withdraws to cool his cock and helps her down.
"Turn around," he murmurs while pushing her hair away from her face. Newt infuses his voice with the purring timbre he knows she loves, and she shivers happily while complying. He encourages her to bend over the low counter and positions her hips with his hands, running his fingers over the smooth, round curve of her derriere in admiration. She catches his eye from over her shoulder when he slots himself into her, watching as he sets a firm pace until she drops her head with a moan.
She is unbelievably slick and tight from this angle, her name a steady refrain on his lips as he fucks her with one hand tangled in the laces of her corset, the other clenched around her breast. She rocks back to meet his thrusts until he squeezes his eyes shut when stars burst behind them, his entire awareness condensing to where he sinks into her. Queenie moans musically as her muscles begin to tense, and he abandons her breast for the humid cleft between her legs, frigging her in spiraling brushes to help her along.
"Newt, baby, come with me," she gasps. He nods frantically when she shudders beneath him before rocking forward to clamp his teeth over the nape of her neck. She contracts around him, her entire body pulsating with her release as the rhythmic sucking of her cunt drags him along. His relieved cry is lost to her skin when he follows hot on her heels.
Silence descends in the aftermath, broken only by their harsh panting and the slide of sweat-slicked skin as his pulse thrums in his ears. He sags against her to kiss the blade of her shoulder until she rolls her head against the counter with a giggle. They share a delighted chuckle as he straightens and withdraws with a wince, both choosing to ignore the obscene trail of fluid he leaves behind when he helps her stand. Queenie puts her arms around his shoulders and bounces onto tiptoes to kiss him. He welcomes it with a happy purr until they part to straighten their clothes.
Newt uses a damp cloth to clean them up, mopping her inner thighs (and playfully nipping the lace band of her garter) before refastening her underclothes and helping her into her dress. He cleans and tucks himself away almost diffidently, not bothering to knot his bowtie or replace his suit jacket. Queenie is back to her typical, perfectly coiffed self with a few well-placed spells, and a freshening charm takes care of the fetid odor of sex hanging in the air.
They are calm and sitting on opposite ends of the couch by the time Tina comes home. If she notices anything amiss, she doesn't comment; instead, Tina wishes them both a brittle goodnight before retiring to the room she shares her sister, obviously preoccupied with her date. Newt catches Queenie's eye. Our secret, he thinks directly at her.
"Yes, honey," she whispers while touching his jaw. "For now, anyway."
Newt kisses her fingers before moving her hand away from his face. "For as long as it needs to be," he says firmly. Queenie nods after a long pause and, lip firmly caught between her teeth, lays her head on his shoulder.
"You're right," she agrees with a sigh, and he puts his arm around her.
There are no more words between them that night.