His fingers weren't nearly as thick as the plug Newt had played with earlier, and he wanted, needed, more in order to feel filled. But they were warm, and long and slender and so very dexterous as they moved inside him, rubbing, building towards but not giving release. Newt's hips jerked with each of Hermann's movements, trying to drive the motions deeper.

Hermann could never possibly understand how many fantasies involved those fingers alone. What gorgeous, terrible hands. They drove him to distraction in the subtlest ways.

"It was in the sailor hat. Probably fell out." He gestured to the bedside table, because if all else, Hermann could certainly find another there. Before Hermann could move away, though, Newt closed his hand around his husband's wrist and firmly pinned his hand there under the skirt, inside him. He met Hermann's eyes, breathless, flushed, and thrust against Hermann's hand. "Kiss me first."