Warning: smut! This was originally published on Ao3 on January 30th, 2017 and is being shared here for the sake of my own ego.
It's the perfect end to a perfect day, Tina thinks dryly, and can't find the energy to be surprised.
She wearily toes her sensible brogues off at the door and trudges into the apartment. There's no sign of her wayward Magizoologist, the man who is sometimes her friend and often her lover and usually her greatest irritant, and that awareness is the crowning achievement on a thoroughly unsatisfying day.
She sighs and clenches her jaw as she moves blindly about the space, riffling through the mail and tidying things before storming to the bedroom to change into her pajamas. She comes to an abrupt halt in the doorway, however, for tucked into an unobtrusive corner is a familiar brown case, lid open in invitation. Tina ponders for only a moment before her face melts into a relieved smile.
She crosses the room in three strides.
Tina often thinks that descending into the suitcase is truly like entering another world. It isn't just the constant warmth (always a balmy spring day) or the typical smells (the warm scent of animals, the earthiness of their habitats, and the bitter plants Newt keeps in his shed), but the pleasant atmosphere. Down here are memories of sunshine and birth, of joy and hope; it is untouched by the cares of the outside world, and here Tina can mentally set down her burdens and simply be entirely herself and uncomplicated.
Newt isn't in his shed, and a cursory glance around the immediate area doesn't reveal leaves her jacket and grabs a tin pail, setting off to visit some of the more docile creatures, those who have been acclimated to her company and pose no threat of harm.
The Niffler sniffs in greeting and allows her to stroke his head. Dougal makes himself visible for a moment, just long enough to chirp in her general direction, before tending to the newest clutch of Occamy hatchings. Ethel the Erumpent and her calf bellow a greeting when she meanders by, but none of Tina's wanderings reveal a wild-haired, wiry human or his plant-like constant companion.
Tina finally finds him with the Graphorns, quite by accident. She's on her way to check the water enclosures when there's a familiar shout, followed by a gust of laughter. She trails after the sounds and stops far enough away to keep the beasts from feeling threatened, watching with a contented smile.
Newt is playing with the youngest Graphorn, rolling in the dust and allowing the baby to butt him with its tentacle-wreathed head. Tina discovered long ago that Newt is entirely capable with his creatures, but it's still slightly disconcerting to see a two hundred pound beast running full-tilt toward the man she's come to care for; still, Newt is agile, and he's able to evade both the calf and injury, laughing merrily all the while.
He weaves and skirts and dodges, and the small creature parries him. Tina watches until Newt is visibly perspiring and rumpled. There's sweat darkening the fabric covering his back and a growing ring around his neck, and Tina has to shift against a sudden influx of heat at the sight. She shifts again when the young graphorn bites the hem of his shirt and pulls, tearing it cleanly at the seams. Newt hasn't noticed her and so thinks nothing of peeling off the ruined garment and tossing it aside.
It isn't until the Graphorn calf tackles him to the ground, sending them both rolling in the dust, that Newt looks up and spots her. Even from a distance, Tina sees his face coloring. Ducking her head to hide an amused laugh, she lifts a hand in greeting. She watches from the corner of her eye as he trots over, and her smile can't be hidden when he takes her in, shrugs and simply slings his shirt over his shoulder. It's a bold move, for him, and one he would only be comfortable making here in the case.
"Tina," he chirps in greeting, stepping into her space and ducking his head to meet her eyes. "I wasn't expecting you home until after supper time—or have I lost track of the hour again?" He frowned in consternation and Tina doesn't think, reaching out to take his hand and lifting her head to smile at him fully. He has this effect on her: simply being around him is enough to make the corners and burdens of her day seem less, somehow. Less important. Less significant.
"No," she hastens to reassure, crinkling her eyes at him. "The bust was a disaster, and I don't want to talk about it. It was a bad tip, anyways. It's still early." She tugs on their joined hands and glances over his shoulder, ensuring the baby Graphorn has returned to its parents. Then she looks him over with a critical eye, taking in a landscape of freckles and scars she rarely gets to see in the light of day, and her smile softens. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
Tina leads him to the shed, where she wets a flannel and wrings it in the basin. Newt sits on his stool and holds out his hand, expecting her to pass over the cloth. Instead, she rakes tender fingers through his hair, carefully ignoring his startled look, and gently swipes the cloth down his face. She glides it over his shoulders and down his arms, the scent of his light sweat filling her nostrils, before taking her time cleaning his back. By the time she works around to his stomach, Newt is taking measured breaths and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.
Tina finishes her ablutions and hovers before him, suddenly at a loss and wrangling the unexpected appetite her ministrations have awakened. Newt eyes her and she tilts her head, worrying her bottom lip in her teeth: a timid challenge. He studies her and she can see him pondering her provocation; he hesitates only a moment before deliberately pressing his face against her hip. He kisses her through the fabric of her trousers while steady hands rise to clasp her waist, strong thumbs stroking shivery crescents through the thin material of her blouse.
Newt lifts his chin to catch her eye and there's a heated question in his gaze, as well as an unexpected softness. Tina nods once, and his hands find the buttons of her blouse, loosening them without hesitation. She allows him to peel off the garment and he leans forward to nibble at the stays of her corselet. Tina feels color infusing her cheeks at the same time warmth spreads deep in her stomach. She loosens the strings with the haste of experience while steady fingers find and open the buttons of her trousers, peeling them off her strong legs. She steps out of them and his fingers tangle in her garters, unhooking her stockings before tugging them off. Tina steps out of her corselet and allows her camisole to fall to the floor, standing before him bare and unflinching.
He exhales shakily while his hands graze over her stomach, the slight flare of her hips. He places another kiss on the dimple of her belly before pressing his forehead into her hip, wrapping strong arms around her. "My Tina," he says, and she feels goosebumps erupt across the swell of skin there. "Tina," he repeats, and his hands drift past the small of her back to cup her rear, fingers kneading the pliant cheeks before moving lower.
Tina's eyes close and her head rolls back as he rubs the muscles in her hips and legs and the skin of her outer thigh. He paints lines into her with calloused fingertips, trailing after them with the press of his lips, until her breathing roughens and her hands squeeze his shoulders. Newt voices a small laugh and lifts his eyes to her. "Is this alright?" he asks, and Tina has to restrain the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she squeezes harder and moves her hands lower over the curve of his bicep, before mapping the landscape of his shoulder blades.
"This is fine," she replies and hesitates a moment before continuing. "It would be better without your trousers in the way, though." His breathing catches, and she sees his eyes open wide. Tina prepares to take back the statement, ready to offer some exit or excuse until his eyes darken in predatory anticipation and he shares a slow, languid smile that goes straight to her core.
"I may need some help with them," he says, and his voice is as close to a purr as she's ever heard it. "I find that my hands are quite pleasantly occupied right now." It's true; he's ghosting the tips of his fingers over the skin of her inner thighs, a pleasant distraction that suddenly has Tina fighting to stay upright. Newt must see her struggle, for he smirks and momentarily halts his teasing. His eyes flick from her to his trousers and then back, very deliberately.
Tina rolls her eyes playfully, but her hands are serious when they seek and find the placket of his trousers. Newt hisses as she unfastens the buttons, and he trembles against her before lifting his hips and allows her to draw them down his legs. They both issue a bark of shaky laughter when the garment invariably gets tangled in his boots, but Tina squats and loosens those too, and soon he is free and bare and pressed against her skin.
She remains kneeling between his legs and he stares, long and slow, before pulling her close. Newt brings her to his chest, his mouth finding her, and his kiss is all heat and hunger and teeth, nipping and sucking her lips. Tina surrenders to it, small sounds of hunger emitting from her throat. He takes those sounds into himself, returning them as small gasps and mewls, fanning the flames of their arousal.
Newt smells of sweat, sunshine, the herbs of his shed, and the animals in his care; his hair is coarse under her fingers, his mouth firm. She deepens their kiss and he growls, an animalistic sound of want and need and ownership. She drags a hand down his body to touch where he throbs for her, and he jerks and hisses. Instead of discouraging her, however, he cants his hips and covers her hand with his own, eyes finding and scorching through her.
"Tina," he manages, and she watches his throat work as he swallows. "Tina," he says again, and there are desperation and a question and a plea, all in one, so Tina catches him in another searing kiss. Newt melts into it and she hums. "You're playing with fire," he mutters against her lips. Tina huffs a laugh.
"Maybe I want to play," she manages, and he gasps, loud and distinct, in the silence of the shed.
"Maybe you do," he growls, and his voice is molten. "But are you prepared for the consequences?" Instead of answering with words, Tina tightens her hold on him and strokes firmly, from the base to the tip, watching Newt's expression dissolve. His half-lidded eyes watch her as he moistens his lips, and the pink flash of his tongue entices Tina irresistibly. He sighs into her kiss and his fingers drift over the thatch of hair at the juncture of her thighs, and Tina decides she wants to burn.
"Newt, please don't make me wait any longer."
He growls and stands, pushing her back two steps towards his workbench. He sweeps out a careless arm to clear the space before lifting her onto her perch, positioning her at the edge of the bench with her legs wrapped around his waist. Tina can feel his breath, short, sharp puffs of air against her skin. His hands cup her jaw and he kisses her gently.
"I want to see your face," he explains, urging her legs to tighten around him possessively. "I want to watch you." Newt presses their foreheads together, nuzzling her cheek. He guides her hands to his shoulders while he uses his own to line them up. Their eyes remain locked as he sinks into her, inch by inch, until their hips are flush and it is impossible to be any closer. His eyes drift closed when he wraps her in his arms, aligned profiles breathing in harmony as they adjust to the sensation of unity.
"See? The consequences aren't so dire," she whispers, and Newt smiles shakily and kisses her before withdrawing, slowly, and sinking back in. He watches her face and his eyes keep her anchored as he sets their pace, smooth and slow, occasionally adding an extra rotation to his hips that jolts through her like lightning. Tina closes her eyes, overcome with sensation as his mouth leaves small love-bites on her neck and shoulders when her head falls back.
"I'm rather a fan, myself," Newt pants eventually, and she has to strain to remember the thread of the conversation. She can feel him smile as he continues. "I could live with these consequences for a long time." He kisses her before turning his head to moan, and Tina latches her mouth to the hinge of his jaw. He moans again, low and long before she releases him.
"Kiss me," she says, and he complies—deep and long and slow, syncing the pace of his lips to that of his hips. Newt maps her mouth with the same thorough attention to detail as he gives all other things when pleasuring her, and before long she's keening in her throat, arms tightening around his shoulders. He intensifies the kiss by sucking her tongue, and when Tina breaks away to snatch a breath from the air, his mouth fastens onto the skin over her voice box and sucks. He tastes and feels her sharp cries as she winds ever tighter, poised on the verge of deliverance.
"Hmmm," he hums, and his voice is pitched low enough that she can feel it thrumming through their joined chests. "I can feel that. Come for me please, Tina." His voice sparks lightning in her nerves, and Newt shivers for a moment before sharpening his thrusts, eyes once more intent on her face. Tina endures the onslaught of his affections for as long as she can before sinking her teeth into his shoulder, tasting his sweat and hearing his gasps as the thunderclap of orgasm rolls through her. Tina cries out her relief and his skin absorbs it, pimpling into goosebumps beneath her damp mouth.
"Oh, Tina," Newt breathes, jolting against her with a gasp before his rhythm splinters, devolving into a series of messy shudders. Tina lifts her head to steal his mouth and he kisses her hard enough to score her lip, lapping at it as he dissolves into sensuous moans. Tina revels in the wild joy of it when he finds his release, the accompanying splash of warmth as he swells and fills her, trembling with completion.
The influence of his climax sees him slack and pliant against her as they catch their breath, kissing soothingly in the aftermath. Newt apologetically kisses the marks he's left behind but Tina waves a limpid hand, truly unconcerned. It takes a while but eventually he musters the will to separate from her and help her down from the bench, and he freshens the washing cloth before cleaning them both, lingering over her intimate area with a cheeky smile.
"Are you still upset about work?" he asks after they've put on the bare minimum of clothing, just enough to see them through supper time. Tina shakes her head and he grins with his eyes, his gaze warm with regard. "Good. That's very good. I would like a bath after supper, perhaps you can help me wash my back? I'm dreadfully filthy."
Tina giggles and takes his hand, his broad palm rough beneath her smaller, smoother one. "I think that can be arranged," she promises and kisses his nose.