It took Newt longer than anticipated to find a pair of leather pants that fit and that fit his specifications because he was continually forgetting this world didn't have quite the selection of punk and rock clothes he was used to back home, but pretty soon, he was dressed in a hot pair of leather pants, a sharp new pair of boots, and a nice fitted white tee shirt. It was casually rocker, and he debated finding himself a button up he could leave wide open, but ...alright, he as tiny bit self conscious about his midsection and the hint of middle-age stomach he was developing (had been developing, if he was honest with himself) and the tee-shirt look was probably better. More tough!sexy, less strung-out-rocker!sexy.
He texted Hermann en route to the grocery store. There, he'd checked out the makeup aisle (eyeliner, a must--and some extra product for his hair so he showed up in character instead of having to duck in the bathroom first thing when he got home) and picked up a few sweet sticky treats.
By the time he walked into their new house--still in the process of being set up properly--Newt was FEELING it. The Drift was abuzz with Hermann's desire and his own, a livewire of libidos feeding into each other, and as he strutted into the livingroom, new boots clicking on the entryway tile and sunglasses still in place, he used his phone to queue up a rock playlist taken from imPort's music collections.
In its state of moved-in incompleteness--the house looked like the kind of fancy pad a man normally on the road might've just returned to. For a brief sobering moment, he thought about it as a life he once wanted, a life that no longer seriously appealed to him. But with Hermann, it was a life he could enjoy in all its fantasy glory.
Mid March 2017 - NSFW
It took Newt longer than anticipated to find a pair of leather pants that fit and that fit his specifications because he was continually forgetting this world didn't have quite the selection of punk and rock clothes he was used to back home, but pretty soon, he was dressed in a hot pair of leather pants, a sharp new pair of boots, and a nice fitted white tee shirt. It was casually rocker, and he debated finding himself a button up he could leave wide open, but ...alright, he as tiny bit self conscious about his midsection and the hint of middle-age stomach he was developing (had been developing, if he was honest with himself) and the tee-shirt look was probably better. More tough!sexy, less strung-out-rocker!sexy.
He texted Hermann en route to the grocery store. There, he'd checked out the makeup aisle (eyeliner, a must--and some extra product for his hair so he showed up in character instead of having to duck in the bathroom first thing when he got home) and picked up a few sweet sticky treats.
By the time he walked into their new house--still in the process of being set up properly--Newt was FEELING it. The Drift was abuzz with Hermann's desire and his own, a livewire of libidos feeding into each other, and as he strutted into the livingroom, new boots clicking on the entryway tile and sunglasses still in place, he used his phone to queue up a rock playlist taken from imPort's music collections.
In its state of moved-in incompleteness--the house looked like the kind of fancy pad a man normally on the road might've just returned to. For a brief sobering moment, he thought about it as a life he once wanted, a life that no longer seriously appealed to him. But with Hermann, it was a life he could enjoy in all its fantasy glory.