Log in

Last Story


Title: Mine
Pairing: Hermann/Newton
Rating: NC-17
Summary: written for the prompt "While messing around in the lab, Newt comes into contact with some weird kaiju thing that causes him to start lactating. Being Newt, he's probably morbidly fascinated, but soon realizes it's probably not a good idea to be working with toxic things and leaking everywhere, so he finds a way to suppress it.

Except then he gets all swollen and sore and, once he's more or less at his wit's end, he begs Hermann to... "help him out", so to speak."

When Hermann walks in on Newton tangled in an overly-complicated breast pump, his exact words are “I don’t want to know.”

Newton, however, hears “How can I help?”

“Hermann! Hermann, dude, do you know anything about breast pumps? I’m having a little trouble figuring it out and it’s - it’s kind of important.”

Hermann still doesn’t want to know, so he doesn’t ask. He smirks, despite himself. “You have six doctorates, Dr. Geiszler. I believe in you.”

Newton doesn’t respond, and Hermann frowns, nervously taking pity on him. It’s not like Newton to allow Hermann to win any argument, even obviously teasing ones. Now too anxious to ask, Hermann merely holds out his hand. “Let me see,” he says, exasperated, and Newton nearly trips on himself to get to Hermann’s side of the lab.

Hermann tries not to react to the obvious curve under Newton’s shirt. He remembers, abruptly, several weeks ago, Newton mentioning having to stifle some sort of lactation, but he hasn’t really been listening.

He hadn’t realized that Newton had meant on himself. He doesn’t want to make him feel any more embarrassed than he obviously already is, so he simply clears his throat and waves a hand at Newton’s shirt.

“Well I...let’s see the damage.”

Newton pulls his shirt off and Hermann has to force himself not to stare. His tattoos have stretched to accommodate the swollen flesh, warping the patterns on his chest. “I cannot believe you’re only just now bringing this to anyone’s attention,” Hermann grumbles worriedly, snatching the breast pump from Newton’s hands to try and get a better look at it.

Newton grimaces. “I didn’t wanna ever bring it to anyone’s attention. Especially not yours. you’ll just bitch at me for not taking precautions. But I swear, I’ve dissected a ton of those sacks they’ve got under their chins and none of them ever exploded on me and gave me boobs before.”

Hermann scowls. “Newton this could be serious. You could be undergoing -”

“Look, I understand you wanna be right and for me to be wrong but can we like, skip this part for now? If I promise we can get back to it later will you just help me?”

He looks miserable. Hermann frowns. Against his better judgement, he turns his attention back to the breast pump.

After a few moments of untwisting the tubes Newton had all but tied in a knot in his frustration, Hermann corrects what Newton was finding trouble with. He’s able to attach the suction to Newton’s chest rather easily, and pumps it a few times.

“There,” he says awkwardly, wanting to hand the problem over and get back to work, but his voice is drowned out by Newton hissing through his teeth.

Alarmed, Hermann freezes. “Does it - hurt?”

“No, God, it feels fantastic., Jesus, I’ve been sore for weeks.”

Hermann ignores the warm curl twisting in his abdomen and resumes what he’s doing out of reflex. “Yes well, you should’ve taken care of this ages ago. It’s unhealthy for people who normally require this treatment to go without for long, God knows the effect for you.”

Newton nods. His jaw has gone slack and his head is tipping backward. Hermann notices he’s gripping the edge of Hermann’s desk as if he needs it to keep him upright. As he’s watching, Newton moans. It’s loud, and long, and sends a shiver down Hermann’s spine.

“Newton, that’s obscene.” He means to sound scolding, but his voice comes out rough and quiet, and Newton falls back onto Hermann’s desk.

“Sorry,” he answers, his voice soft, almost timid. “It just - it feels…” Hermann’s hand jerks, and he pumps a little harder than he means to. Newton’s eyes roll back. “God.”

Hermann doesn’t realize he’s pressing closer until he feels Newton’s pelvis sliding over his leg in small, hesitant circles. When Hermann doesn’t pull away, the touch becomes firmer and steadier, until he’s grinding against Hermann’s thigh.

Hermann moves involuntarily, entranced, as Newton falls apart, starting to babble as Hermann works the pump.

“S’good, Hemann, feels...feels like you’re - God yes.” The last word comes out as a long, slurred hiss, and Hermann can’t help himself, his body moving without his mind’s full understanding, and fumbles Newton out of the pump.

Newton keens, and Hermann’s mouth goes dry. “No,” he whines, his hips still frantic against Hermann’s leg, “No, please, I - I’m sorry, I -”

The instant he does it he realizes he wasn’t thinking, which he can never admit having happened to him before. What’s coming out of Newton could be something dangerous; poisonous or acidic or worse. A second after Hermann’s mouth latches onto Newton’s breast, he no longer cares.

Newton screams.

Fuck, God, yes - fuck, Hermann, your tongue, don’t stop don’t stop don’t -” Newton’s body is writhing against him and Hermann has to cling to him to keep him still. He sucks harder, his hand gently massaging the other breast, warmth leaking onto Hermann’s fingers.

Newton is practically crying with relief, begging helplessly as his thrusts become more frantic.

A fleeting, shrinking voice of reason whispers that this could the effect of whatever it is that he’s tasting, this sweet, soft maddening taste that he needs more of - can’t stop, needs it all, God, more now all of it please. His thoughts turn to if Newton is stuck this way - if this is a release he’ll need more than once.

He feels a violent flash of jealousy at the thought of him seeking help from anyone else. He won’t allow it. No doctors. No more pumps. Mine runs through his head over and over like a broken record. Mine mine mine mine.

He can’t be talking out loud, he knows he isn’t, but Newton still seems to hear, his groans getting louder. “Just you,” he’s whining breathlessly, “Only you, always you, I never - yes God, Hermann, please -” He’s curled around Hermann as much as he can be, his fists balled in Hermann’s hair as his hips rut shamelessly into him.

Hermann’s leg is giving out but he just leans against the desk, free hand clawing at his slacks until he can fuck his fist, turning his attention to Newton’s other full breast as he runs the first dry.

Wildly, Hermann thinks he never wants to taste another thing as long as he lives. He just wants this, warm and sweet and his all his, no one else can ever have it because Newton is his.

Newton’s voice is slurred and desperate above him, keening “Yes, yes” over and over again until it starts to sound like “yours, yours.”

Hermann snarls possessively into Newton’s skin and Newton lets out a strangled sob. Hermann feels Newton’s entire body shudder, the smell of sex hitting his nose as the front of Newton’s pants grow warm and damp.

Hermann,” Newton purrs, his hips gradually slowing as Hermann feels something animalistic snap in the pit of his stomach and he digs his nails into Newton’s back, sucking heard enough at Newton’s chest that he starts to whimper.

There’s nothing left in Newton’s chest, but Hermann’s gone dizzy with the need for it, licking roughly at his nipples until Newton is trembling, mumbling appreciatively into Hermann’s temple. Soft and warm, “Yours yours yours” It makes Hermann shiver, and Newton whines. “Come on me,” Hermann hears him say, and his body jerks with the first wave of his orgasm.

Hermann feels his mind coming back to him even as he’s smearing his mess into Newton’s skin. “Newton,” he croaks, leaning forward to lick at his neck. Newton’s hand is petting lazily in his hair and Hermann wants to pull away, to make sure Newton is all right, but he can’t. He can’t, because Newton smells like him and nothing has ever been more important than that is now. He can’t ever let that change.

“I’m sorry,” Hermann manages, nuzzling into Newton’s collarbones, “I’m sorry - there’s something - something in the…” he trails off, not even sure what to call it, and Newton mewls as Hermann bites down on his throat. He swallows and pulls away. “I can’t - can’t stop…”

Not even if I wanted to, he doesn’t add aloud, but Newton groans, wrapping his legs around Hermann’s waist.

When had Hermann pushed him up onto the desk like this?

Newton grabs a handful of his hair and tugs until Hermann meets his eyes.

“Good,” he says with a contented sigh, his fingers lifting from the cup attached to the discarded pump and sliding into Hermann’s mouth.