They’d already been lying down for the night when this began, so when Newt shifts his weight and leans closer, he’s already half hovering over John. Listen. It’s been a long time for him, and while he can’t say he’d expected this turn of events, he’s not gonna bite the hand that offers. Unless he likes it like that.
While words could be innocent - they’re not, he knows - the teasing graze of teeth to the sensitive shell of his ear is most definitely not. Nor is it accidental. Fuck it. John grabs him by the back of his neck, steadily ignoring the effect those last few words had - fascinating? him? - and choosing instead to quiet the man with a kiss.
The press of his kiss is firm, though softens with each passing second. With a tilt of his head, John parts in invitation, coaxing him forward and open with a taste against the seam of those lips. As they’d been getting ready for bed before, he was already under his blankets. With his free hand, he takes the initiative to tug them off so Newt can join him beneath.
So many layers. Does the man ever undress?
Perhaps it surprised people how far from innocent he actually was– When it came to crowds he was small, crowded, unassuming. It’s been the reason why others underestimated him countless times before. This was different, natural, and he finds a thrill when John doesn’t balk. He grabs him and Newt chuckles against his lips, the sound lost in the space between.
He hadn’t come here for this, but finds that this is a remarkably more interesting adventure. Newt shifts to more comfortably press his weight against the other man, half sprawled atop him when he throws the blanket back. His tongue darting forward to taste as he becomes increasingly all too aware of how much clothes he still had on compared to his partner (really, his dress style was incredibly inconvenient).
He nips against the other’s lips, worn hands going to smooth over his chest exploratively. His mind turning quickly to what will make him the most responsive. He pulls back just enough to move lips from his jaw to his adam’s apple– nipping there once more before giving a soft hum. “Tell me, then,” he breathes out softly against the skin there with a warm puff, “your sort of magic?” Newt shifted half-liddly glancing up at him from beneath his fringes. Hands moving to push off the waist-coat he’d still been wearing.