thebloodyglue | (no subject)

The moment he wakes up, he knows that something is off. Al's already up and out somewhere but Kavinsky is still in bed and Newt reaches out, nudging him between his shoulder blades. He blinks, rubbing his eyes. He very deliberately doesn't look down.

"Hey, shank!" he says. "Wake up and tell me how bad it is."

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From:

mitsubishievo

The bed shifted, but Kavinsky was used to that. There was always a little bit of movement in a bed that held three people. But the voice--that startled Kavinsky awake, breathing hitched up a bit.

He jerked, sitting up, staring at the girl--Newt, it had to be Newt, no one else was going to call him shank or be laying in bed with him like that--for a long, slow moment.

From:

thebloodyglue

Even without looking in a mirror, Newt can figure out what's happened. His edges feel unfamiliar. He raises an eyebrow.

"Well?"

From:

mitsubishievo

"Holy shit," he mumbled. It was about the reaction he'd had when he'd woken up with tits, just a moment of speculative horror before he had tried his best to settle.

It was different, looking at someone he loved. He reached out and touched Newt's hair.

"...'s long, man. Holy shit."

From:

thebloodyglue

Newt plucks at a strand of his hair and holds it up where he can see it, laughing a little.

"What about the rest of me?" He says, well aware that he's naked under the sheet and unsure of how Kavinsky is going to take it.

From:

mitsubishievo

That was sort of the question here, wasn't it? And Kavinsky could not beg off on it because this was Newt, for one, and for another they'd spoken about what had happened when Jack was a girl.

Kavinsky swallowed. "Sorta got a sheet in the way, sugar. You want me to check?"

From:

thebloodyglue

"Is that you asking for permission, love?" asks Newt, arching his back a little and reaching up to touch Kavinsky's cheek gently. "Go ahead. But if you're going to throw up, do it out of the bloody bed."

From:

mitsubishievo

"Hey, I don't know how uncomfortable you're feeling," Kavinsky objected, still touching her hair for a second. He leaned into Newt's touch gently. All his callouses were still in just the right places that they normally were, just smaller, on smaller hands.

"'m not gonna throw up," he objected. For one, he'd never thrown up because of a naked woman before. For another, it was Newt. "What do you think: me under the sheet, or you want the sheet off?"

From:

thebloodyglue

He worries his lip with his teeth for a moment, looking up at Kavinsky and ignoring the way that just having him close seems to affect this new, strange body.

"Whatever you want, love."

From:

mitsubishievo

Rather than moving the sheet, Kavinsky leaned in and pressed a kiss to Newt's hair. He lingered there, breathing in. There was something different there, a slight shift in the way he smelled, but maybe that was just sleep, or having more hair, or any number of other things that might contribute to it.

"Gonna have to go to class like this," he whispered, lips smudging Newt's temple. And slowly, cautiously, he slipped his hand under the sheet to feel out the shape of him.

From:

thebloodyglue

"Going to have to do an awful lot of bloody things like this, I'd imagine." He huffs a sigh, biting his lip as Kavinsky's hand slid lower under the sheet. The kiss is comforting, somehow.

From:

mitsubishievo

"Al's gonna go wild about you, sugar," Kavinsky whispered. That idea thrilled through him briefly. He was still mapping Newt out slowly, putting the physical shapes of him together in his head. What a curious thing, he thought, to love someone so much he could do this despite his aversion to women.

From:

thebloodyglue

Newt's tongue darts out, moistening his lower lip. He lifts his head, looking down at Kavinsky.

"Al's not here," he says, quietly. "So what about you?"

From:

mitsubishievo

That soft gesture, that look, that was all Newt, and Kavinsky had been helpless about that since last November. He could feel the heat of it sink into his bones, just like always; the way it stirred in his belly, like always; the way his heart swooped and reeled, so utterly, terribly in love with this boy.

Who, for the moment, was not a boy. Kavinsky tapped his fingers against Newt's ribs curiously.

"I'm working on it," he whispered. "I can--I'm not gonna make any promises, Newt, I've tried being with girls before and it always--"

This was different, though. Kavinsky knew it was different. He could feel it, he could see it. That sank something like fear into him, rocking something fundamental in him.

From:

thebloodyglue

"That's okay," says Newt, softly, shifting his hips when Kavinsky taps at him like that. He's still draped in the sheet. He turns his head, leaning up to catch Kavinsky's mouth with a soft kiss. "I don't want anything from you you don't want to give me, love. We know it'll pass."

From:

mitsubishievo

There was that thrill, that stir, that swoop and reel again. It was like kissing Newt the very first time, all over again--new, and terrifying, and different, and elating, all at once, burrowing under his skin to make homes in his chest.

Kavinsky brought his hand up out of the sheet and cupped Newt's cheek and kissed him back, slow and curious. He'd kissed other girls before, but this was--well, this was Newt, not other girls.

From:

thebloodyglue

The kiss is slow, tentative - they haven't kissed like this in almost a year. Newt doesn't push it deeper, though. He lets Kavinsky set the pace, leans into his touch a little.

From:

mitsubishievo

Kavinsky pulled away from the kiss, a bit nervous. Compared with how they'd fallen so quickly in together in February, when he'd turned into a girl, he felt like he was lagging behind. Shouldn't he have been falling all over himself? He loved Newt. Nothing would stop that, would change that. He could feel his foundations shifting and reconfiguring, and he didn't know what to do about that.

From:

thebloodyglue

"It's okay, love," says Newt, touching Kavinsky's face gently, thumb stroking against the corner of Kavinsky's mouth. "You really don't have to do anything, if you don't want." He frowns, eyebrows drawing together. "Do you want me to just get dressed?"

From:

mitsubishievo

Kavinsky was quiet, considering. He slid his hand back under the sheet and touching Newt's warm, soft skin. He slid his fingers across Newt's ribs, his back, down to his ass. There, he squeezed for a moment, before touching a thigh and moving back up, across Newt's belly, until he reached these new, curious breasts.

"Shit," he mumbled, laughing softly at himself. "Damn, sugar, you're...stacked, man. Um. You think we could, like. Shower or something? Just wake up a little bit?"

From:

thebloodyglue

He can't help the little shiver that goes through him when Kavinsky touches him like that. His nipples stiffen. He bites his lip, flushing self-consciously.

"We can do that," he says, nodding. "You want to get in on your own?"

From:

mitsubishievo

Kavinsky was still for a moment. Not still, but contemplative. He kept his hand on Newt's breast, and then slowly smudged his thumb against the perk of his nipple. Newt was biting his lip, and Kavinsky bit his own, watching him carefully as he squeezed at the meat of Newt's breast.

"Uh, no," he said softly. "No, we should...totally, definitely get in together. If you're cool with that."

From:

thebloodyglue

That touch of his nipple makes something shiver between his thighs and Newt flushes, his eyelashes fluttering.

"Definitely bloody cool with that," he murmurs.

From:

mitsubishievo

Kavinsky breathed out slowly, trying to ground himself. He felt like he was probably blushing to match Newt, right now, even if he didn't want to be blushing. He scooted back from him just a touch, slipping his hand off Newt's breast, clearing his throat.

He was hard and he didn't know what to do with that.

"Okay," he said, and then laughed. "You gotta get outta the bed, sugar."

From:

thebloodyglue

"Okay," says Newt, laughing at himself a little as he slips out from under the sheets and stands. He looks down at himself, the ripe curve of breasts and hips.

"Shucking hell."

From:

mitsubishievo

Kavinsky, meanwhile, had his eyes fixed on the swell of Newt's ass, more ample than normal, perfectly sized for swatting, or biting, or holding close. He swallowed a bit nervously. Kavinsky couldn't really remember the last time he'd felt this much like a teenager, so awkward and out of place with himself.

He scraped a finger down the curve of Newt's spine.