-DAY 2: Get it on in a place you've never done it before, even if it's just another room in the house-

-*sigh* I enjoyed this way too much. All I can really think to say is, Minewt fans, you're welcome for the fluff (and okay, the smut :P). Thank you for the reviews; jeez they all came so fast and I'm incredibly grateful. Let me know what you liked, favorite part, etc. I love hearing from you and it makes my day to write for such wonderful readers. :)-

It was a good thing that Belle was staying over at Newt's parents' that night.

-X-X-X-

Minho was being seduced.

There was no other word for it. Why else would Newt be getting all up in Minho's personal space every two seconds or wearing his tightest pair of jeans? Why else would he be finding excuses to touch Minho or flash him little, teasing smirks? He'd been doing it for the past twenty minutes, as they worked in the kitchen to put away dishes after dinner. It was a Friday, and Belle was spending the night over at Newt's parents' house. It was a great way for her to have fun during the weekend with her grandparents and for Minho and Newt to have the house to themselves.

Now, seeing Newt flirting like he was, Minho was glad that he had the night to himself with his beautiful husband.

"What're you doing?" he asked in amusement, as Newt reached around him to snag a glass. The sink was full of dishes and soapy water, and suds were crawling up Minho's arms as he made some sort of attempt at cleaning.

"Helping you, what do you think?" Newt leaned over to set the glass over on the rack by the others, where they could dry. His chest brushed Minho's back as he did.

Minho shook his head, a half-smile playing on his lips. "I'm thinking about how bad I wanna have my way with you later," he muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Rising up on tiptoe, Newt rested his chin on Minho's shoulder.

His breath caressed Minho's ear and Minho shivered. "Nothing," he replied, going back to scrubbing a plate.

"Mm-hm," Newt hummed disbelievingly. But he didn't question anymore. "What d'you wanna do tonight?"

As he stepped back, his ran his palms along Minho's sides, retreating only after he'd reached Minho's hips. You, Minho thought. He swallowed that answer, wanting to keep his self-control for a little while longer. "I dunno. What did you have in mind?"

"Movie?"

"Which one?"

"Umm..."

"Not Downton Abbey again."

"Ugh, okay. My second favorite then."

"I know you only like Titanic because of Leonardo DiCaprio."

Newt gave a burst of bright laughter. "You like him, too," he teased, hooking a finger playfully in Minho's back pocket.

Minho grinned and reached back to skim his fingers down along Newt's arm to his wrist. Newt squeaked as the soap suds coated his skin. "Nah, I have my own stunning, blonde artist at home," Minho joked.

"Ew," Newt complained, wiping the soap off on Minho's black tee. "You're lucky you compliment me a lot, or I'd have left you by now."

"You'd never leave me," Minho sniffed.

"And why is that?"

Glancing back over his shoulder, Minho smiled knowingly. "You love me."

Newt just rolled his eyes. "Not that much."

"Aw, come on." Minho pulled the plug on the drain and watched the water spin away. "Admit it."

"Never," Newt answered stubbornly.

"You looooooove me."

"Minho."

"You could never LIVE without me."

"Are you done yet?"

"You looooooove me THIS MUCH." At that part, Minho turned around and spread his arms as wide as they could go. A wide smirk pulled at his mouth as he saw Newt's glimmering sapphire eyes on him.

"I thought we were gonna watch a movie," Newt said pointedly. Leaning back against the counter, he looked at Minho with gilded eyelashes drooping. Wearing a snug, white tee with a black cross design on the front, he looked positively edible.

Minho shrugged. "That's what I thought too," he replied lightly, "until you started flirting with me."

A cute blush rose in Newt's cheeks. "I wasn't flirting with you," he protested.

"Newt." Minho fixed his husband with a withering look. "I think I can tell when someone's flirting with me. I'm Minho, remember?"

"And humble too," Newt deadpanned. "I was NOT flirting. I was just...noticing you."

"That makes no sense."

"Yes, it does. There's just sometimes when I think, I dunno..." Newt paused to think, picking at the edge of the counter with his fingernail. "I think about how I'm lucky to have you, and how you look when you wake up with your hair all messed up, or the way you move, or how you always bloody smirk at me when you wanna kiss me." He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I always notice you. Don't you notice me?"

Minho crossed over to Newt and pulled him by the shoulders to kiss his forehead. "Yes," he admitted.

Newt tipped his chin up, amusement curling his lips. "What about me?" he asked.

"Your eyes," Minho answered. "And—" He broke off as Newt leaned up and kissed his jaw, lips soft and enticing. His words stuck in his throat.

"And?" Newt spread his fingers at the back of Minho's neck.

"And your, um, your voice." God, did Minho love Newt's voice, with its rich accent making it sound like poetry. As he spoke, Newt continued to trace little kisses along Minho's jaw. He looped his hands around Newt's waist and curled them in the back of his shirt. "How you say my name," he managed, as Newt reached his ear and his breath tickled the skin there. "Um, y—your hair, when you get out of the shower." Humming for him to go on, Newt ran the tip of his tongue along Minho's earlobe. Minho's fingers clenched in the back of Newt's shirt. "How you're still careful," Minho mumbled on an exhale, "when you touch me. Like you need permission first."

Newt's smile curved against Minho's skin. He grazed his nose over Minho's ear and whispered to him, "may I?"

"Yes," Minho sighed in bliss.

Newt grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him. A small sound left Minho's throat as he caught his fingers in Newt's front pockets to reel him in. His mind spun in woozy circles as Newt kissed with lazy sweeps of his tongue that drove Minho mad. He splayed his hands at Newt's lower back as they kissed, getting rougher and more desperate. Hooking a leg around Minho's, Newt wrapped his arms around Minho's neck to bring him closer. He tasted like sugar, all sweetness, and it was enough to make Minho dizzy. In a moment of weakness, he licked Newt's bottom lip. Newt whimpered and Minho lost his mind.

Seizing Newt's hips, Minho started forward, taking Newt with him. Gasping, Newt backed up, clinging to Minho's shoulders for support. Minho ducked and crushed their mouths together again. Lovely, little whines escaped Newt as they kissed wildly, hardly finding time to breathe. Minho was drunk on Newt and he wanted to taste more of him, every single inch of him. He turned them so that they headed toward the living room. Suddenly, in a single motion, Newt spun them around and planted his hands on Minho's chest. Electricity lit Minho on fire as Newt pushed him past the coffee table and toward their large, white couch.

Minho swallowed as Newt slipped a hand under his shirt and felt the ripple of his stomach. "Do you want to—?"

"Yes," Newt breathed out, and shoved Minho back onto the couch.

Minho shifted so he could lay out on his back and Newt immediately straddled him. Clutching Newt's shirt, Minho yanked him down to kiss him again. He slipped his tongue past Newt's lips and Newt moaned shamelessly into his mouth. There was glorious body heat flooding into Minho from Newt's hands on his chest, their mouths together, through the denim of Newt's jeans. He could drown in it; he was already high on Newt's husky, needy answer of "yes."

Knotting his fingers in Minho's tee, Newt sat up and hauled Minho with him. Now perched on Minho's lap, he broke the kiss and lifted his arms above his head. "Take it off," he pleaded, chest heaving.

Minho obediently rucked Newt's shirt up his body and over his arms. He practically threw it to the ground in his haste to look at every new centimeter of creamy, smooth skin. He had to bite his lip over a sound when he saw the beauty of Newt's M tattooed on his chest. Wanting to see the desire in Newt's eyes and physically starving for the blonde, Minho ripped his own shirt off. He had one moment to glimpse Newt's gaze clouding over before he brought his lips down to Newt's shoulder.

Newt gasped sharply, threading the fingers of one hand in the hair at the back of Minho's head. Minho worshipped the feather-soft skin as he kissed along the line of Newt's shoulder. Running his hands down Newt's back, he gently sank his teeth in. Newt dug his fingertips into Minho's back. The almost-pain sent jolts along Minho's nerves. He mouthed up to Newt's neck and worked a sensitive place with his teeth. "Minho," Newt breathed, tilting his head to expose more of his neck.

"Tell me that you belong to me," Minho murmured, pausing to place tiny kisses on Newt's throat.

"I belong to you," Newt whispered. Minho sucked at a place on his neck and he dropped his head back, purring. "I've always belonged to you."

Love like no other pooled in Minho's heart. Twining his fingers in Newt's hair, he tipped the blonde's head to the side. The savage, pinkish scar beneath his jaw was revealed, twisting the otherwise-flawless skin. Minho traced it with kisses and then ran his tongue along the length of it. Newt whimpered, "please," and Minho continued to tease the scar with the slightest hint of teeth. He didn't know if it was still sensitive, but he knew that Newt loved when Minho paid attention to it; a way to move on from the attack, maybe.

Minho could feel Newt's hands all over him, his chest, his stomach, running over his thighs and up his back. Newt desperately kissed at Minho's neck and collarbone. "I don't know," he whined out. "I want all of you at once, and I don't know what part of you I want more."

Cupping Newt's face, Minho looked into those blue eyes he'd fallen so deeply in love with. "Then take all of me." He didn't want to say he begged, but he might as well have been. He ached for Newt so badly, he didn't know how he didn't ravish the blonde right there.

Newt's breaths quickened and he touched his lips to Minho's chin, and then his neck. Minho tilted his head back as Newt kissed a line down the center of his throat. Newt's lips were soft and every once in a while, he'd nip at Minho's skin. Minho's eyelids fell closed, then snapped open again when Newt rolled his hips on top of Minho's. Gripping Minho's shoulders, Newt ground onto him again. Pleasure shot up Minho's body and he scrabbled to hold Newt's thighs, and bring their bodies together again. Leaving all traces of his usual modesty behind, Newt started grinding their hips together like he'd been craving Minho all day. Minho's head fell back and he groaned at the delicious friction.

"Lay back," Newt ordered, a hand on the N inked onto Minho's chest.

Something about the lanky, angelic blonde ordering Minho around was definitely sexy. "Someone's bossy today," Minho commented, allowing himself to be pushed back onto the couch.

"I am, aren't I?" Newt asked, smirking slightly. He pulled at Minho's belt loops. "I'm on top tonight."

That dark comment was the last thing he said before he bent and started kissing Minho's chest. Minho's head dropped onto the couch and he set his hands at Newt's hips. He bit his tongue to stop a whimper as Newt ran his tongue along the lines of the N tattoo. Then he was moving downward, making his way slowly down Minho's body. Minho gripped the edge of the couch so hard, his fingers ached. His hips canted up as Newt licked down his abs and he couldn't stop it this time as he moaned.

"Newt, please," Minho managed.

"You're wearing too much," Newt pointed out, sitting up to tug at Minho's jeans. He got them open and briefly sank his hands inside, just enough to feel the hot skin of Minho's hips.

Minho mewled. "Take yours off too," he replied, as he lifted his hips up to push out of his jeans.

Newt was grinning as he climbed off of Minho to get out of his pants. His movements were just has hurried as Minho's were, shoving his jeans off in fast motions. Minho had to do some maneuvering to get his off on a couch, but once he did, he was grabbing Newt's hand. The blonde actually blushed as Minho pulled him back and let him sit back on Minho's lap. Sitting up, Minho skimmed his palms up Newt's thighs, the lovely smoothness of his sides, and his chest. He traced the M with his finger. "God," he whispered. "I'd really let you do anything to me, wouldn't I? I'd let you break my heart and I'd still be this in love with you."

Newt shuddered. "Just c'mere, Minho." He coiled an arm around Minho's neck and brought his lips to Minho's ear. He caught his earlobe between his teeth and sucked lightly. A jerk tightened Minho's body, his hands grasping at Newt's flaxen hair. He ran it slowly between his fingers, reveling in how soft it was. All the while, Newt kissed at his ear, murmuring low I-love-you's and calling Minho 'my love,' or 'my heart.' His voice was shatteringly exquisite shaping those words and Minho closed his eyes against the emotion filling him. Then his heartbeat was picking up again as Newt sank him back down onto the couch.

Newt wasted no time in kissing Minho like it was the last time they'd ever touch. He speared his fingers deep into Minho's hair and Minho let him make a mess of it. He grabbed at the backs of Newt's thighs to pull him impossibly closer and listened to every sound Newt made. The blonde ran his hands over Minho's body until Minho was shivering under him. He almost begged aloud when Newt's fingers dipped into the waistband of his briefs. "Let me see you," Newt murmured, and Minho lifted up his hips.

They began to lose their minds, in that urgent, burning way that only came from being in love. Newt pretty much tore Minho's briefs off and Minho made no objections. Certainly not when Newt was already tossing his own clothing onto the floor. Minho seized Newt by the shoulders and dragged him down on top of him. Their bodies pressed together hotly, drawing equal sounds of pleasure from both of them. Minho had planned on flipping them over, but when Newt began rubbing his heated, flushed skin against Minho's, he decided he could wait. His hands couldn't choose where to touch; Newt's spine, his hips, the backs of his thighs. Skin on skin was making Minho delirious. He didn't know how much longer he could take this beautiful torture.

Taking Newt's shoulders again, Minho switched positions. Newt blinked as he thumped into the couch cushions. "I said I'd be on top," he protested, breathing hard. Strands of golden hair flopped over his eyes; he looked like a fallen angel with his kiss-flushed lips and lust in his gaze.

"Too bad," Minho decided shortly. He covered another protest by pressing his lips to Newt's. "Let me make love to you." Newt wilted and gave in.

The urgency didn't leave them as Minho hiked Newt's legs up to slip himself between them. Newt scrambled for a hold around Minho's neck, trembling in anticipation. "Please," he choked, ghosting his mouth over Minho's nose and lips. "Please, do it."

Minho moved himself forward in return and loud moans came from both of them as he slid easily into Newt. It was like the first time, and the time after that, and every other time. His lungs wouldn't work, and his black hair was down in his eyes, and he wanted to wreck Newt until the blonde couldn't take anymore. But Minho was never like that with Newt. Instead, he bent to kiss Newt's forehead and asked him quietly, "are you okay, love?"

"Y—yes," Newt stammered. "Now—I want you, Minho."

Minho covered Newt's mouth with his own and drank in the rightness of this, of them together. Then he was rocking his hips back and then in, and Newt was coming apart under him. Nails bit into his neck as Newt clenched his fingers. He made the most filthy sounds as Minho licked into his mouth, hips pushing into Newt's again and again. It was hellishly good and Minho found himself moving faster, despite earlier carefulness. Newt panted raggedly, cradling Minho's jaw to keep him there. He didn't say anything when Minho ground into him harder, but a long, low whimper tore out of him.

"Angel," Minho mumbled incoherently. "My beautiful angel..." He grabbed Newt's wrists from his neck and pinned them up above his head on the couch. He stopped any objection from Newt with a hard thrust of his hips that sent Newt out of his mind.

"Minho," Newt gasped out, arching up. Crossing his legs around Minho's waist for a better angle, he turned and pressed his cheek to the couch cushion. Minho watched Newt's lips part and his head fall back as Minho drove into him roughly. Ducking, he kissed at Newt's neck, tasting his slicked skin and groaning against his collarbone. "I love you," he whispered. "My life, I love you."

Newt barely managed to get the words out himself as they moved together in the lamplight.

They didn't even realize that it was the first time they'd ever made love in that living room.

-X-X-X-

It was growing dark outside, the sky turned to star-speckled navy in the windows. In the Newton's house, the living room was lit to a golden glow by lamps on coffee tables. The TV screen showed a blonde artist laughing with a wealthy girl on a ship. On the couch was a tangle of blanket, clothes, Newt, and Minho.

Minho had found a thin, cream-colored blanket beneath a table next to the couch. After, well, yeah, AFTER, he'd draped it over both of them. They hadn't bothered to even get dressed again; they were both tired and bone-meltingly lazy in the made-love-two-minutes-ago way. Minho was propped up on a pillow, watching Titanic and with the blanket not quite reaching his shoulders or chest. Newt was stretched out on top of him, cheek resting on his chest and half-asleep. Their legs slotted together and Minho's hand shaped to the curve of Newt's lower back. His other hand played absently in Newt's hair and Newt was sketching patterns on Minho's bicep with his fingertip.

It was pleasantly quiet.

Newt smiled when Jack took Rose's hand and led her through the ship on a mad chase. He touched a kiss to Minho's chest. "Would you run away with me, on the Titanic?" he asked jokingly.

Minho chuckled, strands of tousled hair falling into his eyes; unusual from how it was commonly spiked. "Where would we run to?" he asked. "It's a ship."

"You know what I mean." Newt watched as the scene with the car played out, Rose looking nervously into Jack's eyes. "Would you do that with me?"

"Have sex in a car? Absolutely."

"Shut up."

"We can totally go down into the car right now."

"Minho."

Minho laughed good-humoredly. "Sorry," he apologized, stroking his hand over Newt's hair again. He massaged the back of Newt's neck for a moment and Newt purred in his arms. Minho grinned. "But yes. I would run away with you."

Newt trailed a fingertip down Minho's side. "Oh?" he asked airily. "And how would we meet?"

Minho smoothed the bangs off of Newt's forehead. "You'd be the rich one," he replied. "Because you'd be a famous photographer and all I'd be is a poor guy with a guitar. You'd be traveling with your family, and taking pictures of the ship. You'd wear a suit and you'd look incredible." He paused to let Newt shift on him, getting to a better position with his hand on Minho's arm. "I'd be playing one night, on the deck. You'd hear me, and come out, and ask me my name. And I'd tell you because you're charming, and your accent would make me wanna hear you say my name just once."

Newt smiled. "What then?" he asked.

"You'd tell me yours, and we'd both start telling our stories of how we got there," Minho went on. "I'd play for you and you'd save pictures of me. And even though I hate singing, I'd sing for you, only you. It might take a few days or a week, but we'd fall in love." He kissed the top of Newt's head. "I'd make love to you," he whispered and Newt shivered. "Not in a car, maybe, but somewhere special to us. On the last day, I wouldn't care what happened or how fast the ship sank, as long as I was with you."

"You're quite a storyteller," Newt murmured.

"Another one of my hidden talents."

"I like it."

Minho looked up at the screen, in time to see Rose and Jack kissing in some deserted hallway. He moved his gaze back to the stunning, gorgeous blonde in his arms. He couldn't believe that Newt was his. "I love you," he said softly.

Newt closed his eyes. "I love you, too, Minho."

Together, they watched the Titanic sail on open waters, safe in a golden room, deep in their own love story.

-PS: If you're willing to let me take a short break from this fic, I'll gladly write a short fanfic of the Titanic story Minho told Newt. If you want me to, let me know and I'd love to write this little love story ;)

Also, I don't know if cameras existed back then...They have pictures of the Titanic though, right?-