#mintnewt

icon: 9/10theme: 8/10posts: 9/10hp: slytherin bc everyone respects a good slytherin and they’re loyal to the end and very smart / ravenclaw / hufflepuff / gryffindor      thunderbird / pukwudgie the heart of the wizard which in your case is made of gold and full of love for minewt / horned serpent / wampusdw: companion of 9 / companion of 10 / companion of 11 / companion of 12 he’s a punk and needs someone who can put up with his shenanigans and also talk some sense into that mantmr: runner / builder / bricknick / track-hoe chilling in the fields, tending to crops and gossiping with the rest of the gang / cook / med-jack / bagger / slicer / map-maker  / slopper / leader of the glade / working at wicked

HOLY FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCK

He didn’t care, because he had Minho, and, more to the point, he had Minho’s mouth.

That mouth. It was hard to choose how he liked it best, spilling sass and insults and insubordination, or splitting into one of those big, toothy grins that always preceded the most intoxicating laughter Newt’d ever heard.

Or—OK, maybe he could choose—wrapped around his cock, diving in with an enthusiasm that more than made up for lack of experience.

Turning Newt’s legs into rubber.

Like now.

Newt moaned as his dick hit the back of Minho’s throat, the shorter boy’s nails scraping against his hips. Newt’s own hands lay on the back of Minho’s head, fingers tangled in the strands of fine, silky black hair.

Too long. The Asian boy would get a haircut soon, abhorred anytime his hair made its way into his eyes. Not like Newt, who never let scissors or a blade near his hair, chose instead to tie it up with a scrap of fabric.

Newt loved Minho’s hair when it was just on the edge of too long, and for now, at least, he could enjoy it, make use of the grip and control the extra few centimeters of length granted him.

A hand came to rest on the shaft of his cock, squeezing and stroking as Minho pulled back until his lips were locked only on the head, tongue flattening against his slit as his hand sped up and he hollowed out his cheeks.

“Shuck,” Newt growled out, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he screwed his eyes shut and pulled his fingers tighter as he pushed forward, head lolling back on his shoulders to connect against the rough wall of the Map Room.

Minho made a sound, something that didn’t quite make it past a mouthful of cock, but wasn’t a protest if the way his tongue and hand continued were any indication.

Newt pulled back the moment the head hit Minho’s throat, using his grip on Minho’s hair to guide the other boy. Minho let him, kept his hands busy, one wrapped around Newt’s cock and the other clawing at his thigh, leaving angry red marks on the pale flesh.

As Newt continued to pump in and out of Minho’s mouth, chasing his release, the dark haired boy let out another sound. The noise, something between a moan and a whine, sent a vibration through Newt’s dick, forcing his hips to jerk and a cry to spill out from clenched teeth.

He was close. Knew it, knew he couldn’t fight it even if he wanted to. His thrusts became less controlled, and within a moment, Minho pulled off his cock, letting the organ fall from his lips with an obscene pop. Hands, both of them now, grasped his shaft, twisting and rubbing while Minho used only his tongue to lavish the sensitive head.

“M-min, wai—” was all the warning to managed before he was coming with a cry, a word or a name or maybe something more primal. His eyes squeezed shut tighter and every muscle in his body contracted as he shot his load into Minho’s waiting mouth.

Or what he had assumed was Minho’s mouth. As his muscles relaxed and the surge of pleasure left his body, he cracked open his eyes, finding Minho still on his knees in front of him, Newt’s fingers still tangled in his hair.

Newt’s cum on his face.

Lips red and plump and wet, two long strings of a thick, white substance spanning from just above his hairline down over one closed eye and to his cheek, almost reaching the curve of his jaw.

Newt was torn between being turned on and laughing his ass off. It was only the recent orgasm that favored the latter, and Newt couldn’t help as a laugh spilled forth from his lips at the sight.

“Ha shuckin’ ha,” Minho said, pulling Newt’s now lax fingers out of his hair and then wiping the cum away from his eye. He sneered at his hand, then wiped it on Newt’s pants. “Laugh it up, slinthead.”

“Hey! Those were my only clean trousers,” Newt said, trying unsuccessfully to brush away the sticky substance. Minho snorted, and Newt didn’t think the guy had much of a right to be so snide; not with cum still smeared across his cheek.

Minho stood, not bothering to wipe away the rest of the mess. He reached for Newt’s hand and brought it to the open zipper of his trousers, under which was an obvious bulge. The dark haired boy let out a sigh as Newt slipped his hand in, fingers sliding under the pair of runnie undies and wrapping around the hard column of silky flesh. He gave Minho a few long pumps, his hand sliding from head to base and back again, squeezing as he slid up, only to let up as he swiped his thumb over the leaking head.

He lets go and pushes down Minho’s underwear, until his dick pops free, red and warm and inviting. Newt leaned back against the wall, his thumbs stroking Minho’s hipbones as he watched the shorter boy’s face. He was flushed, eyes fallen shut in pleasure, a string of Newt’s seed glistening on his skin.

Newt leaned forward and licked, lapping up his own cum from Minho’s overheated skin.

“Shuck, Newt,” he said with a mewl. “Shuckin’ get to it already.”

Newt smirked against Minho’s cheek, then pressed their lips together at the same moment he grabbed his cock. Minho moaned, the sound rising from low in his chest only to be captured by Newt’s lips. The blond loved it when Minho was like this, needy for his hand or his mouth, willing to do almost anything in order to cum. Newt pushed his tongue past Minho’s lips, the Asian boy giving in far more easily than he normally would, tongue lazily mimicking Newt’s movements.

He pulled back, but not before nipping at Minho’s lip. He trailed soft kisses over to Minho’s ear, using his free hand to wrap around the other’s waist and pull them closer together. Minho’s hands found him, one fisting in the fabric of his shirt, near his ribs, the other grabbing a handful of hair.

“I bet you loved it,” Newt whispered against Minho’s ear. “Me cumming on you like that. Almost as much as you love swallowing my cock.”

Minho hummed against Newt’s shoulder, neither denying nor confirming the accusation. When Newt’s thumb toyed with the slit, his hips jerked forward and he moaned, nuzzling closer to Newt. The blond knew he’d end up with a cum stain on his shirt as well as his trousers, but by this point, he didn’t much care.

“You did, didn’t you? Maybe I’ll do it again, on purpose next time.”

Minho didn’t respond, only kept rocking his hips in tiny thrusts, clinging on to Newt as his orgasm built. Newt kept a steady rhythm, not fast enough to make him climax too soon, but not slow either. He made each stroke almost identical to the last, squeezing as he neared the head, then running his palm over it to collect precum to lube the next stroke.

Soon, Minho’s chest was heaving erratically, every exhale a soft moan against Newt’s neck. His hands clawed at the taller boy, the one previously holding his hair moved instead to the back of his neck, blunt nails scratching in random intervals. Newt knew that he wouldn’t last long, but he also knew that he could draw it out, make it that much better for the other boy.

He slowed his hand.

It took Minho a few strokes to notice, but when he did, he let out a long, frustrated moan and lifted his head enough to glance at Newt out of the corner of his eye.

“Newt,” he said, dragging the name out. “C’mon, go faster.”

“Say please.”

“Hnng, shuckin’ shuck you shuckface,” Minho said. He was stubborn, and Newt knew that he would try not to give in. That’s why he slowed his hand again, and after a few more strokes, Minho growled. “Fine. Shuck, please, alright?”

Newt smiled, sped up his hand, and after a minute of thrusting hips and muffled moans, it was all over. Minho cried out as he came, spilling his semen on Newt’s hand and trousers.

Newt wondered, perhaps, if he should give up hope of ever keeping his clothes clean around the other boy.

Gradually, Minho’s breathing slowed and the rough grip against Newt’s skin lessened, until the boy backed away slightly. The cum was completely gone from his cheek, but a large dollop remained in his hair, forcing several strands to stick up at an odd angle. His skin was still pink, his bottom lip red and swollen, as if he had bitten it.

“Surprised you can come that bloody undone from just a hand job,” Newt said.

Minho smirked at him, his eyes half-lidded, the whole expression giving off the air of laziness and contentment that came in a post-orgasmic haze, yet carrying the same stubborn, audacious panache Minho pulled off effortlessly.

“Not my fault your hands are better than your mouth,” he said, quickly tucking himself back into his trousers—free of cum stains, of course—and heading for the door.

Newt was taken aback for a moment, managing only to glare at Minho’s retreating form as he left the room.