Re: Quicklog, Patrick's cabin: Patrick G/Newt P
[That Patrick didn't retreat was noted. He stayed, right there, bent forward with his hands cupping Newt's cheeks. He was broad and warm, present and close, and his mouth opened wider over Newt's. He took the permission given without thought. He forgot, only for a moment, that this was an exercise in sexuality. He smiled, giving a small hum of laughter without breaking the kiss, when he realized Patrick was mimicking the lick over ridge of teeth. He sucked on one kiss-puffy bottom lip, before returning to the kiss proper. His fingers did flex, and the downward scrape of Patrick's fingers was hot on the skin of his throat—and all of Newt, every inch of exposed skin, burned to the touch. His body reacted as flame did under gasoline, and he'd been prepared to push into the kiss again, up on a foot, when Patrick broke away and stood up.
For half a second, a silver string of spit connected them, only to be licked away, whisked as a spider's web is under too-curious fingers. Newt stared, but he couldn't be blamed now. And his gaze snared on chafed lips dipped after a moment to catch sight of Patrick's... erm, arousal. Before he could even look away, the younger man was dropping onto the bed beside Newt. Buoyed by feathers, Newt didn't think not to look over.—Newt's own interest wasn't unapparent, but thankfully the black trousers were tighter than the loose shorts, so the tenting, such as it was, wasn't so obvious.
Fingers that'd just been resting on Patrick's hip lifted to ginger fringe now, and Newt brushed it from freckled forehead as he sought to catch his breath. He dragged fingers down, to run them over his lips, then down to his throat where Patrick's hand had ended. He fiddled with the button as he gazed over at the man beside him.—Quiet for a moment, Newt finally rolled onto his side, facing Patrick, though he didn't go so far as to butt against him, and nudged at the elbow of the dramatic arm across the eyes. When he spoke, his voice was sodden and slightly lower than usual, and his gaze was slightly too dark.] Let's give Pickett his walk, shall we? [He knew the guilt would be coming for Patrick now, and it'd be better to be up and moving, he thought, as much as he'd've preferred not to. Plus, Pickett wasn't the most patient all the time and they had made a promise.] Come on. I would like to see your wood—[Newt smiled in a flit, obviously purposefully echoing Patrick's earlier joke.]—woods. [He even went so far to wink, even though all it did was make the entirety of his face burn red. He pushed himself upright on the bed then, patted one of Patrick's knees with too-warm palm, and, finally, stood, using it as leverage.]
Pickett, come in here. [Newt called for the bowtruckle, who trundled out from wherever he'd been, very eager to see Patrick's woods.]