Tina eventually drags herself out of the case to discover that the sun has sunk low in the sky, and Newt is nowhere to be found.
She tries not to think about him, still feeling hollowed out and bitter with his words, and instead hides in the bedroom that is temporarily hers. She ruefully changes into the nightgown Queenie had sent along with her, short and silky and something she no longer believes she'll have occasion to use, before casting a cooling charm on the room and slipping beneath the covers.
Her fear and exhaustion, as well as the renewed pain in her head, causing her to descend quickly into sleep. It isn't a restful or restoring slumber; nightmares rise almost immediately to chase her rest until, unexpectedly, warm dream-arms embrace her, a beloved voice speaking low in her ear.
"I've got you, Tina. I'm sorry," Newt says, over and over, and she smiles and murmurs her forgiveness until he falls quiet and she sinks into a welcomed, dreamless sleep.
Tina wakes to hard darkness and looks around until the unfamiliar weight slung over her side tightens around her.
She freezes, thoughts grinding to a halt as she slowly looks down to find a freckled and familiar forearm pressed into the notch of her waist. Now she's aware of the slight mass behind her, the soft puff of even breathing on her neck, and the firm chest pressed into her back.
Breath returning in stilted bursts, she turns her head creakily to find someone sleeping next to her, body relaxed in slumber.
Oh, she thinks, and blinks. The room is dark enough for even her sleep-adjusted eyes to have trouble discerning the shape of him, and she hesitates before focusing on the candle perched upon the bedside table, which flares into muted life to cast his features in flickering shadows.
It's Newt in bed with her, sprawled beneath the blankets and wearing his typical clothing, though his braces are lowered and his shirt is mostly unbuttoned. She traces the familiar contours of his face, so rare and unguarded in sleep, before allowing her eyes to slide down the strong column of his neck and lower, to where his shirt opens in a deep v-shape that stops just above his navel.
She can see a heavy smattering of freckles dotting his chest, as well as thin, sparse strands of coppery hair. Thready white scars, too, countless numbers of them, and she swallows against the sudden and unexpected tendril of heat that courses through her to pool in her lower belly.
Tina cranes her head to watch his chest rise and fall while tracing the contour of his arm, feeling the other one still tucked beneath her. She recalls her dream then, and the way his voice had sounded in her ear. Maybe not a dream, after all, she thinks, and isn't sure how that makes her feel. It's too confusing, untangling dreams from reality while trying to decipher what his being here means, so she lets it go for now.
He inhales sharply without warning, eyebrows rising as his breathing changes and he swims toward consciousness. Tina gnaws her lip in momentary indecision before deciding to do nothing—he chose to join her in bed, and she can only hope that it signals an understanding of her reason for being here, if not an acceptance.
Newt makes a low, sleepy sound before his eyes blink open to land unerringly on her. She produces a weak smile when they widen before closing in apparent pain.
"Tina," he mumbles, and the sleep-burred rasp of his voice makes her shiver as the heat in her lower stomach shimmers. He swallows loudly and opens his eyes to fix on her face, his mouth curving into a sad bow. "I'm sorry, I didn't intend to trespass upon you. You were dreaming and it sounded unpleasant. You were calling out for your sister, so I came to check on you and..." He lifts his hand to make a helpless gesture and she immediately misses its warmth—so she tugs it back into place, his explanation stumbling to a halt.
"It's okay," she whispers. He stares at her face to the point of discomfort before averting his eyes, and Tina shifts when her neck twinges before taking a fortifying breath and rolling onto her back.
It's a carefully calculated move: her sleeping gown is sheer and pale in color, and the blanket pools around her waist when she moves, allowing the dusky pink of her nipple to show through the thin fabric. His arm resettles on her stomach but his eyes never fall below her neck, and she can't be sure if it's disappointment or excitement that causes her to squeeze her thighs together.
"Did I wake you up? You know...before?" She asks. He dampens his lips while shaking his head.
"No," Newt responds in a low voice. "I actually came to the door because I wanted to...well, I suppose I wanted to apologize. I was unnecessarily harsh, and you didn't deserve that. When I heard you calling for your sister, and when I couldn't rouse you I had to make the choice to either walk away or try to help." He meets her eyes unflinchingly, blown pupils surrounded by thin bands of precious green. "And I'm finished with walking away, Tina."
Tears blur her vision, and she blinks them away while willing her face not to crumple. Strong, she reminds herself. You're getting there; you're finally talking. Don't blow it now. A calloused hand brushes her cheek, cupping it gently as his thumb sweeps beneath her eyes. It's the boldest and most forward Newt's been in months, and her tears flow anew at the realization that the tension between them has been spooling out for years now, primed for one or the other to break it. He makes a shushing sound, wiping her other eye as she presses into the contact with a sniffle.
"Me, too," Tina warbles and manages a watery smile.
"How's your head?" Newt asks, his fingers sliding from her cheek to cradle the back of her skull. She sighs raggedly at the contact, pressing into it.
"It's better," she says, and he nods while falling silent. His steady fingers card gently through her hair, and Tina closes her eyes, allowing the last of her headache to drain away.
The overwrought tension thrums between them until she opens her eyes to take in his face, finding his gaze fixed unflinchingly upon her mouth. He meets her eyes for a moment before returning to his frank appraisal of her lips. Some old and eroded defense mechanism within Tina crumbles, causing her nipples to tingle, her entire chest tightening in anticipation as her mind whispers now.
"Do you want to kiss me?" she asks in the barest whisper and is heartened when Newt doesn't flinch. Neither does he look away or dissemble or attempt to justify his staring. Instead, his eyes move to hers and held her gaze, long enough for her to memorize the flicker of the candlelight in his iris; long enough to watch his pupils dilate even more and his cheeks flush in obvious approval.
He props himself on his elbow and leans closer until he's hovering inches from her mouth and his hand, his hand shifts to splay possessively over her stomach.
"Yes," he breathes, and she feels it more than hears it, but she still has to bite back a small, greedy sound. She recognizes this tactic for what it is, giving her what she's asking for without acknowledging the unspoken question. Always willing to wait for her lead, she realizes, and her lips tingle in anticipation as she lifts her hand to cup the nape of his neck.
Newt exhales sharply at the contact, and she can feel the tremor that works through him.
"What are you waiting for, then?" Tina challenges when he makes no move toward her and closes her eyes in surrender.
There is a long, tense moment when nothing happens. She can feel him breathing, and the uncertainty tightening his frame. She can feel how tense his neck and shoulders are in their locked position, until she works her fingers up into his hair, marveling at the strands of coarse silk when she rakes her fingernails over his scalp before petting the nape of his neck.
His hands knot in her hair to tug gently, tilting her chin toward him. She utters a small, hungry sound when the subtlety possessive gesture causes her stomach to clench and flutter moltenly—only for it to be stolen when a warm, masculine mouth covers her own.
Newt doesn't kiss her so much as claim her, leading the slide of their lips. He presses the advantage to flick his tongue out to trace her teeth, where she grants him entrance. He lingers there, sampling her velvety tongue and cheek until she gasps raggedly before pulling back and rolling to cover her.
Tina winds her arms around his shoulders as he hovers on elbows and knees, hanging over her until she tugs him down so her breasts press into his chest, her nipples tingling madly at the hint of friction. She arches her back in a bid to increase contact between them, his mouth finding her neck and jaw before clever teeth latch onto her earlobe. The sensation jolts through her when he soothes the sting with his tongue, and she moans while slipping her hands from his shoulders to press into his chest and stomach.
His shirt impedes her touch so she scrabbles at the remaining buttons, shakily releasing them from their eye as he drags his teeth down her throat to her collarbone, which he sucks and tongues until she's choking with need. The garment eventually surrenders, revealing the full expanse of his storied skin. Tina palms it greedily as he nips the silky basque of her nightgown.
Tina urgently taps his hip until he shifts, freeing her trapped legs so she can hook them around his shanks. He makes another hungry sound when she pulls him close, lining their pelvis' up until she can feel it: the primal and vital part of him, now awake and pulsing with want against her eager center. She twitches her hips upwards, grinding them together until he growls into her skin, hands moving to the hem of her nightgown. He pushes it past her waist so he can drag his calloused fingers unimpeded over the topography of her curves.
She moans when he squeezes her bottom before wrapping her leg around his waist. She moves against him rhythmically, the rough weave of his trousers stimulating her beyond all expectation until he drops his head to ring her nipple with his teeth. Tina chokes out his name, squeezing his shoulder when he makes an approving sound before moving to the other side. His tongue drags roughly over the smooth silk and she mewls, mindless with need.
Her hands fall to his waist to find and open the placket of his trousers, fingers trembling badly. He tilts his pelvis to assist, his larger hand gently pushing hers aside to loosen his underwear before shoving the fabric past his narrow hips. Tina eagerly claims velvety steel for her own, squeezing it until he purrs roughly. She strokes him clumsily before her thumb finds the bead of fluid dotting the tip, spreading it around until he keens. His eyes find hers when he slides his hand down to where she is tender and empty, touching her in tight circles to mirror her movements between his legs.
Newt finds the knot of nerves nestled between her folds, and Tina chokes when everything within her begins to smolder. He easily slides two fingers into her, causing her to gasp and rock her head back as he presses in, his regular thrusts firm and deep. Her back arches but her hand on him never falters, stroking him faster as his fingers drive her higher and higher until he growls and wrenches himself away. Tina moans and tucks her chin to her chest, watching him take himself in hand, his lips skimmed back from his teeth as his eyes drift heavily over her flushed and exposed curves before finding her face.
The question is there, masked by the haze of lust and abandon but still entirely relevant. She somehow chokes out assent while hooking her legs around his thighs to tug him closer. The sheets whisper when he drops over her, supporting his weight on his elbow as he settles lower. Tina moans encouragingly when he fumbles between them, kissing him until he growls deeply and his hips push forward.
Then he's inside her, buried to the hilt, and the frayed tension between them gives with an almost audible snap.
He establishes their rhythm quickly, hips retreating only to sink back in, firmly enough to cause her body to jolt with each thrust. The mattress complains as Tina's mouth falls open in bliss, until he takes her bottom lip between his teeth with a groan. She captures and swallows the sound, returning it with one of her own as he moans and presses his lips down her jaw and throat.
Heat builds as Tina gasps her pleasure into his skin, sighing his name as her hands slide from his sweat-slicked back to his hips, pressing them in encouragement of harder, faster, more before finding the tense curve of his rear. Newt gasps in her ear when she bites his shoulder, and groans as she drags her fingernails up his spine. He presses his face into her neck when she tugs his hair, until he says her name and lifts his head to kiss her, lips slanted together as she moans into his mouth.
Newt breaks away to push her nightgown aside, curling to suck one taut nipple between his lips. He bites and laves and that's the extra push she needs—Tina's back arches off the creaky mattress as she trembles around him, announcing her release with a cry as he purrs her name in encouragement. She chokes and quivers as it seems to go on and on, until the final spasm works through her tingling limbs and Newt, eyes wild above her, slips a hand beneath the small of her back and lifts to better get inside her.
She pants for breath as he ratchets up their intensity, his hips lashing hers as their lips touch, sometimes kissing and sometimes nibbling, but usually just moaning against her mouth until she can feel the fine tremors in his frame, his smooth movements devolving into shuddering runs. She breathes his name and he manages eye contact at the last, eyes widening, mouth falling open when he surges forward before going still, his sweat-slick body trembling in her arms.
"Mercy Lewis, I can feel you," she chokes when pulsing heat fills her. He grinds out something that could charitably be called laughter when he shudders before sagging into her. Tina happily accepts his weight as he pillows his head on her chest to pant, occasionally spasming until their breathing returns to normal. Tina runs her hands through his chaotic hair and touches his damp face until he captures her fingers with his lips, kissing them in turn while propping himself onto one elbow to watch her.
"Are you—that is, was that—okay?" He asks softly.
Tina takes in the hectic color still infusing his cheeks, the way he's slipped partially out of her as well as the deep satisfaction weighing down her limbs. She smiles just for him, soft and slow and in stark contrast to their frantic activity of a few minutes earlier. He relaxes at her expression, kissing her tenderly before easing off of her. She moves with him until they are arranged together, face-to-face with limbs and remaining clothing in a comfortable tangle.
"It was perfect," she assures him, and Newt flushes in pleasure while touching her jaw with reverent fingers.
"Oh, good," he mumbles. Then: "I have dreamed of this moment countless times, and I can honestly say that none of them measured up to the reality of the event." He leans in for a heart-stopping kiss before smiling shyly at her. "Thank you, Tina."
Tears sting her eyes, but they are a symbol of her happiness and there's no shame in them. "I'm glad," she whispers around a shaky but radiant smile, and he smiles back while tucking her into his arms, sighing in deep contentment.
"Sleep now," he whispers, and she nods and relaxes into his embrace. "I'll be here when you wake up, and we can...talk. If you want."
"I'd like that," she mumbles while closing her eyes, and there are no more words between them that night.