Newt comes.
It crashes through him. He is clenching down hard around Malik inside him, rhythmic and helpless, and his whole body is shaking apart around it, and Malik is groaning against his ear, and Malik's thrusts have gone stuttering and deep, and the bond between them has flared so bright Newt can see it behind his eyes, can feel every thread of Malik flooding back into him in a warm golden rush.
Malik pulls out before he finishes, again, old habit, and comes across the small of Newt's back and the curve of his ass, and Newt is so wrung-out by then that he barely registers the wet heat of it, only the low broken groan Malik makes against his shoulder, only the shaking of Malik's arms as they brace on either side of him, only the kisses Malik is pressing, frantic and soft, to the nape of his neck.
They collapse together.
Malik rolls them, carefully, onto their sides. Tucks Newt's back against his chest. Pulls out a corner of something—Newt is too fuzzy to tell what—and cleans them both with slow unhurried care. Newt is aware, distantly, that his body feels hollowed-out in a way that he will not fully process for hours. He is aware that his eyes are heavy. He is aware that Malik has conjured a blanket out of the bag and is drawing it up over them, and that Malik's hand is stroking up and down his arm in a slow soothing rhythm.
"Malik," Newt murmurs.
"Mm."
"I never liked it when you went out."
A long pause.
"Out?" Malik asks.
"Mmhm."
"To feed, you mean."
"Mmhm."
Malik is quiet for a moment. His hand, on Newt's arm, keeps moving. Steady. Slow.
"To be fair, love," Malik says, "you didn't know I was doing it for a long time."
Newt flushes into the mattress. "I know. But when I knew—I didn't like it."
Malik presses a kiss to the crown of his head. His arm tightens across Newt's chest.
He is quiet for a long moment.
"I didn't want to use you," he says, finally. His voice is low. "I didn't—I didn't know I could keep you. I didn't know that was a thing I could have. And I thought if I—if I started with you, I'd—" He stops. Swallows. "I'd have to leave. Eventually. The way I always have. And I didn't want to do that to you."
"Oh."
"I was wrong about a lot of things."
"Mm."
Newt slides his hand up. Finds Malik's. Laces their fingers together on his own stomach, where Malik's arm is wrapped around him. He brings their joined hands up and presses a kiss to Malik's knuckles.
"You can keep me," he says.
Malik makes a small sound into his hair. A laugh, almost. Something that is not quite a laugh.
"Yeah?"
"Mmhm."
"Forever?"
Newt considers this. He considers it for about half a second.
"Yes," he says, very matter of fact.
Malik tightens his arm. He presses his face into Newt's hair and smiles.
