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Mornings after were always the hardest part of any one night stand for Newt. It wasn't the headache that came from being horribly drunk the night before. It wasn't waking up and finding a stranger in your bed or in other cases, waking up in a stranger's house. Newt even thought that there was something sweet in the awkward conversation that came afterwards.
He'd become friends with some of his best mates that way. Once it was clear that getting drunk and having sex was a terrible idea, some of them agreed that hey, they're a pretty cool person. So why not be friends? That's how Thomas happened. They'd been friends for three years.
Alright, fine, it was just one person. Others morning after conversations had usually been awkward. One guy was so surprised that he kicked him out of his apartment immediately. Another guy, Gally, had made it abundantly clear that they would "never speak of this to anyone ever or [he would] literally cut his balls off." Poor lad. He hadn't come out to anyone yet. And Newt wondered how he was doing now.
But even the morning after conversation wasn't the worst part. It was waking up and smelling sex everywhere. On his skin, in his hair, in the sheets, surrounding the room. It was the sticky feeling of sweat and cum all mixed up and dried on his skin. The hickeys stood out ugly and purple on his skin and holding none of the promises they had before. He always regretted not having showered afterwards. The dirty feeling almost made it not worth the sex before. Almost. But he always wanted it. He wanted to feel connected to people. And he liked having fun with people. So most mornings, he would go through his routine and continue on his day.
That was how he'd done it for years and for a lot of relationships. Hell, that's what he was doing in his current relationship. But Minho, god, Minho. He was worth anything and everything. He was worth every horrible feeling in the morning. They'd been together for about a year and a half. Newt was pretty sure he loved him. But he constantly guessed at what Minho felt about him.
Last night, they'd had a fight about something. He didn't even know what about. Minho was frustrated from work. He wanted to blow some steam off by having sex. But Newt didn't want to. He was tired from work. They could do something else. They could watch a funny movie. And they did. But there was something in the way that Minho sat beside him, never touching him, something in the way that he didn't want to talk during the movie and criticize all the ridiculous plot holes. So when it was time to go to bed, Newt made a move.
He didn't think Minho was sleeping and he was right. He crawled over him. Talking to him softly, a touch here, a touch there. He knew what Minho liked and he went through the process. Afterwards, Minho kissed him on the forehead. And wrapping an arm around Newt's naked torso, he fell asleep.
Newt lay in bed feeling the need to shower creep over him like a cloudy day in England brings in foggy mornings. But Minho was happy. And that was all he cared about. So he slept.
Now that it was morning, 7 am actually, he pried Minho's arm off him.
"Where are you going?" Minho called sleepily.
"Just gonna shower," Newt replied. Minho grunted sleepily in response, pulling the blankets around him and rolling himself in a burrito to the other side of the bed. The image made Newt smile fondly. Later Minho would fall out of bed because he couldn't get his legs out.
He got himself in the shower, running it hot. He could feel the sex washing off him. He scrubbed it out of his skin with a loofah he replaced every two weeks. He washed it out of his hair, using his nails to scratch at his scalp. He was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair when Minho came in.
"Hey babe," Minho said sleepily as he came in. Newt hummed in response, not wanting to get the shampoo in his mouth. He heard him pee and the sink run.
"Hey, what do you want for breakfast Newt?" Minho said, lingering in the bathroom door.
Newt peeked his head out from behind the shower curtains, "hmmm"-ing in consideration. "Could you make some french toast?"
"Don't you think that's a little unpatriotic?" He joked. "Ok I'll make some."
"Thanks love!" He yelled as Minho walked away.
Finishing his cleaning (more like purifying) routine, he toweled himself off and dressed. 20 minutes later, he was dressed in a long sleeve polo and black slacks, had his briefcase ready for the business meeting that afternoon, and sat himself at the table. Minho was bravely cooking in his boxers, no apron necessary. The first day they moved in together, it had surprised Newt. Now he was used to it.
Minho served the french toast and they ate in silence for a few minutes. Minho finished first. And as he watched Newt, he began to talk, finally fully awake.
"I'll pack you some lunch ok?" Minho called from the fridge. They wouldn't talk about last night. That was fine. It wasn't worth bringing up yesterday's frustrations anyway.
Minho showered. And at 8:30, they both got in the car and Newt would drop Minho off at work before going to his own job. Along the way, they were both discussing the prospect of what would happen if every character in Harry Potter was genderbent. They were so in the conversation that Newt almost didn't see the garbage truck backing up. He slammed the brakes hard. The seat belt cut into his shoulder as they pitched forward. By the time the garbage truck had left, they were still in the street. Newt was shaken, terrified at the thought that he could've killed both of them. Minho had gotten out of the car and was walking to the driver side.
He yanked the door open. "Get up," he said softly. Newt nodded before getting out and walking to the other side and buckling himself in. Minho drove the rest of the way.
"You have to be more careful," Minho said when they got to a stop light.
"I know, I know. I'm so sorry," Newt whispered quietly.
"No, Newt!" Minho slammed both fists into the steering wheel, sounding the horn, and no doubt startling a bunch of cars, not to mention Newt. "You could've been seriously hurt! You're not careful enough!" With an angry sigh, he turned from Newt and continued driving. "I'll drop you off at work."
"Okay," Newt replied. He had almost gotten them killed. Maybe it was best that Minho drove the car today.
All day at work, Newt tried not to let the mornings event distract him. But he found that he couldn't stop thinking of ways to make it up to Minho. He had finally decided that he could buy his favorite candy from the store. It was only a few blocks away and he could get it during lunch.
When Minho came to pick him up, he sat in the passenger seat again, and took out the strawberry candies. Minho took one without looking at him and said a muffled "thanks." Minho was frustrated. Either at him or something at his job. By the time they had parked the car and we're walking up to the apartment, Newt had gauged the level of frustration Minho was feeling. He acted gingerly around him, trying not make any loud noises as they entered the apartment.
He dropped his briefcase in the spare room that they used an office. Newt turned around to find Minho leaning against the doorframe. Newt wanted to apologize again, to say something. But as Minho held out his arms, he could only find the strength to be held in Minho's arms. The tightness of the hug kept him together.
After a while, Minho led Newt by the hand to their bedroom. He began to unbutton his clothes, stripping completely before kissing Newt again. He started unbuttoning Newt's shirt, undoing his belt and pants, letting gravity pull them down for him. "I love you so much," he kept saying. He held Newt's hands, interlocking their fingers, as he thrust his hips forward.
Once they both finished their orgasm, he collapsed, exhausted, on top of Newt, before rolling off. "I love you," he said. And Newt replied that he loved him too.
"I'm sorry I was mad at you earlier," Minho traced his finger around Newt's sweaty abdomen. It felt comforting now. Later, as it dried, it would feel too much for Newt.
"I'm sorry I almost got us killed." He clasped Minho's hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it.
"No, Newt, it's not about me. I just want you to be more careful."
"I will, I promise." He moved closer to Minho, nodding his head fervently. "I'll be more careful."
Kissing his forehead, Minho got up. "Good. I'll call for some pizza ok?" Newt smiled. The near accident was behind them.
He got up to shower. He was scrubbing himself hard when Minho came in. He sat on the sink counter, watching Newt.
"Care to join me? Or do you just want to sit there and watch like a weirdo?" Newt quipped at him.
"Why do you scrub yourself so hard?" Minho asked. Newt hadn't expected the question. He paused scrubbing, deliberating an answer.
"I'm just showering." There. That qualifies as an answer doesn't it?
"You're scrubbing your skin raw. Look it's red." Minho had gotten up from the sink, and held Newt's left arm out from under the running water.
Newt yanked his arm back. "It's fine. I'm just cleaning myself."
Minho seemed a little apprehensive. Now that Minho brought it up, even Newt wasn't completely sure why he cleaned himself so hard. But Minho just said ok and said he'd shower after Newt finished.
The pizza came later and they enjoyed it. It was a nice end to a day that started with them nearly getting into an accident.
Two busy weeks had gone by before they knew it. Two weeks in which they hadn't had sex at all. They were having dinner out for once, sitting in a Japanese restaurant, eating sushi and making up stories of all the customers that they saw.
"The lady with the feathered hat," Newt started. "went to a salon today. She wanted to dye her hair blonde but accidentally dyed it blue. And I bet she picked this restaurant because of the dim lighting." Minho spit his drink back into the glass, suppressing a laugh and turning it into a fake cough.
"Ok my turn. That family over there. With the little kid that keep complaining. He wants to go home cause nobody told him that drinking milk with sushi would give you diarrhea."
"Gross. Minho, please, we're eating." But still, Newt couldn't help but giggle. "Ok the couple over there. He wants to get her into bed for a shag. But she clearly doesn't like him. So any moment now, she's going to 'go to the bathroom' and not come back out."
"How about we go to the bathroom and not come back out for a while?" Minho winked at him. He had chosen that moment to snake a foot up to Newt's crotch.
Newt started, surprised. "Minho! We're in a restaurant!"
"Come oooon, Newt! It's been two weeks! It'll be fun!" Newt couldn't protest. Minho was already tugging him up.
They made their way to the men's bathroom, trying not to attract anyone's attention. The bathroom was fancy, to say the least. But the only thing Minho appreciated was that the bathroom stalls went all the way down to the floor. No one would see them. They waited a moment, making sure no one was in any of the other stalls. When it was clear that it was completely empty, Minho steered them into the stall farthest away from the door. He fussed with Newt's belt.
"Never mind me! I can wait till we actually get home because I am a gentleman."
"Well I hope 'the gentleman' isn't too opposed to having my cock in his mouth." Newt clamped a hand over Minho's mouth.
"Shhh!" Newt rerpimanded. "Be quiet in case someone comes in! " Nevertheless, Newt continued unfastening Minho's pants. He kneeled on the floor, freeing Minho's erect cock from his briefs. He licked his lips for show. Blow jobs weren't really his thing; but Minho liked them so he didn't object.
Minho's hand were constantly in Newt's hair when he wasn't biting at his knuckles to keep from screaming out. Newt's own hands were busy cupping his balls, or stroking the part of his cock that he couldn't take in his mouth. Minho warned him that he was close and Newt prepared. He swallowed down the wave of orgasm that came. He panted, wiping his mouth with a napkin, trying to ignore the sick feeling growing in his stomach. Minho had a hazy look of "best blow job ever" written on his face. They stayed there for a while. Luckily no one had come in during their little debauchery. Minho was struggling to get his pants on. His limbs felt like jelly, he said to Newt.
Newt had gone out of the stall and to the sink. He washed his face, trying not to wet his clothes. He scrubbed at his face as hard as he could would just his hands. Eventually, taking a piece of paper and using its friction to emulate the feeling that his loofah did. He swished water around in his mouth and spit. He rinsed and spit, rinsed and spit, repeating the cycle even as Minho finished washing his hands. Newt washed his hands with soap for at least five minutes, getting soap three times. He wrung his finger together, methodically scrubbing every space between his fingers and under his nails. His hand were so clean when he finished that nurses would be envious.
If Minho noticed anything weird about his actions, he didn't say. Besides, he probably thought the same thing as Newt. They wouldn't want anyone to know they'd just had a blow job in their bathroom.
"It's the only reason I'm cleaning a lot," Newt said to himself. "Nothing else."
Despite what Newt thought, Minho had noticed something weird about Newt's actions. He first attributed it Newt's habit of cleanliness. But ever since that day he realized how much Newt scrubbed himself in the shower, he began to have doubts. And now, seeing his boyfriend almost wanting to pour soap into his mouth after giving him a blow job (a spectacular one if he might add), he began to think that maybe it wasn't the only reason.
Over the next few weeks, Minho observed. After they had sex, Newt would fidget for a while before falling asleep. Newt always woke up first in the morning and Minho would hear the shower turn on almost immediately after Newt got up. He would walk in the bathroom later. Under the pretense of needing to use the bathroom, he would go in, and observe Newt. As Newt closed his eyes to wash his hair, Minho scanned Newt's body. There were scratches on his skin that didn't come from Minho. Most of his skin was red from hard scrubbing. He watched him washed his hair. Newt hummed happily, but his nails dug in hard on his scalp. He stopped humming only when he ducked his head back into the running water.
It hit Minho then that maybe Newt didn't actually like sex. Being unable to be anything but blunt, he asked immediately.
"Do you not like having sex with me?" Minho said. Newt finished washing his hair before replying.
"What gave you that idea? Of course I do." He continued washing the last bits of soap out of his hair before turning the shower off and toweling himself.
"Newt…" Minho started.
"Look, we'll talk about this later. When I'm not cold and wet, yeah?"
"Yeah," Minho agreed before leaving the bathroom.
The next time they had sex, Minho saw the same thing, the same routine. Newt always avoided the conversation in the morning. However, he never seemed to even remember it when they had sex.
One morning in the bathroom again, Minho didn't let the topic go.
"Well talk about this later," Newt said.
"No Newt, we need to talk about this now," Minho insisted.
"Minho. There's nothing to talk about." Newt stood with his towel around his waist, looking sternly at him.
"Alright. Ok. We'll talk about it later." He let Newt walk out of the bathroom first. They could talk about it later. But Minho had had enough of skirting around the topic. He wrapped his arms around Newt's wet torso, kissing his neck. Newt tensed immediately, shrinking at the touch, before catching himself and forcing himself to relax.
"See, Newt? We need to talk about this!" Minho let go of Newt, not wanting to cause him further discomfort, and backed up a few steps.
"No we don't! There's nothing to discuss Minho!"
"Yes there is! Newt, every morning after we have sex, you scrub yourself raw. You brush your teeth three separate times! You hate having sex!"
"That's not- that's ridiculous!"
"Newt!" They were both getting frustrated. Minho was trying to understand what it was he was doing that made Newt feel so disgusted with himself. Newt was trying to do the same thing. Why did he always feel so bad in the morning?
"I… I…" Newt trailed off.
"It's ok if you don't want to have sex with me. I'm sorry I'm so disgusting to you." Even though it was Minho that started the conversation, he found that the conclusions he was coming to were too much for him to handle. Newt hated having sex with him. Maybe Newt didn't even like him.
"No. No no no. Minho." Newt stepped toward him, hugging him. "It's not you. I love you so much."
"Then why?"
"I can't help it ok? I just always feel like I need to clean myself a thousand times. I can't help it."
"Why do you do it then?" They sat down on the bed, Newt, still in his towel; Minho still dressed only in his underwear.
"Because. Because I'm afraid that you won't want to stay with me. That you'll go find someone else to make you happy," Newt admitted it as if he were confessing to a murder. He hung his head.
Something suddenly clicked in his head. It was something he'd seen on an episode of House. Although the woman was faking it and the man had his sexual urges repressed by a tumor, and Dr. House had completely dismissed the idea of asexuality, it was really starting to come together in Minho's head.
"Newt, babe, please look at me." Minho cupped Newt's face. He smiled with his revelation. "Go have breakfast ok? Call your office. Take a day off. I'm not going to work. We're both gonna talk about this ok?"
"What- where are you going?" Minho was headed towards the shower with a bundle of clothes.
"I'm just gonna go find something ok? I promise I'll be back soon."
Minho left 10 minutes later, promising Newt that he loved him. "Please don't leave ok?"
Newt nodded. He looked sad. But Minho would change that. He was starting to understand that Newt had never heard of asexuality. And why not? Minho only knew about it because he happened to watch an episode of House. He had to go find Thomas. He doubted that Thomas knew anything about it, but Teresa would. He always thought that's Thomas's sister was a little crazy sometimes, but this time, maybe she could really help them.
He met Thomas and Teresa in a cafe 15 minutes later.
"Come with me," he grabbed Teresa by the arm, pulling her excitedly towards the car.
"Minho what's this about? You sounded really frantic on the phone." He was pushing her now. Thomas trailing behind with a muffin.
"What's going on?" Minho hadn't really planned for him to come, but he wouldn't mind.
"Just get in the car Thomas. I'll explain on the way."
He explained all of his suspicions to Teresa. He recounted Newt's habits, the constant washing, the hard scrubbing, what he'd said this morning about 'just needing feeling the need to clean himself a thousand times.' Teresa nodded as he explained.
"I think he's asexual," Minho ended his explanation as they parked the car.
"What's that?" Thomas asked. Minho had forgotten Thomas had come along.
"I get it. I'll explain. Is he ok though?" Teresa asked.
"Yeah, I told him to call for a day off. He should still be inside."
Thankfully, Newt was, and fully dressed now.
"Minho?" He saw Teresa and Thomas. "What's going on?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Thomas said.
"Thomas. You have no purpose right now. Go eat your muffin in the kitchen," Minho said. He was anxious to have Teresa explain.
"No no. You could benefit from this too," Teresa said.
She sat them around the living room. She started off with what Minho had told her about Newt. And she calmed Newt as she explained, making him understand that it's not anyone's fault, least of all his.
"Asexuality just means that you don't experience the same amount of sexual attraction towards a person that people usually do. Although it doesn't meant that asexuals never have sex or never have relationships. It's all about what level of physical intimacy you're comfortable with," she explained. "Some asexual are repulsed by sex. Some aren't and some just depend."
"That doesn't sound like a real thing. That just sounds like a regular person," Thomas interrupted.
"Tom, it's just as real as any other sexual orientation. Just because it's only 1% of the population don't make it any less real. Islands in the Pacific Ocean doesn't just stop existing because their combined landmass doesn't equal 1% of the U.S. landmass." It shut Tom up with the effect she wanted and she continued.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Newt. You just don't like sex as much as other people."
Newt looked to Minho, gauging his reactions.
"I'm just… afraid," he admitted.
"Of what?" Minho sat closer to Newt. He wanted to understand what Newt was feeling. It hurt him to think that he had been making Newt uncomfortable this whole time.
"So if I am asexual, if I don't like having sex, won't you get bored with me? Find someone else who's not broken?"
"Newt you're not-" Teresa started to explain. Minho beat her to it.
"You're not broken. You're as whole as any other person." Teresa nodded approvingly in the background. Thomas was thinking. To his credit, he was honestly trying to understand too.
"But-" Newt protested.
"'But' nothing. Newt, I love you. I don't need to have sex with you to feel that."
Newt had, for the first time in his life, come to fully understand why he felt the way he did about sex. And he found himself overwhelmed. He didn't understand everything about it yet. But just knowing that he wasn't broken, that Minho wouldn't leave him because of it, made him cry uncontrollably into his lovers arms.
Teresa shooed Thomas out of the living room and into the kitchen, saying something along the lines of, "we'll give you guys sometime."
Minho was comforting Newt. Telling him that it was ok. That they could take things at any pace Newt was comfortable in or not at all. That Minho loved him- not despite of his asexuality; he loved him period. Regardless of anything.
30 minutes later, Thomas had come to fully grasp the idea of asexuality and the idea of there being different levels of asexuality. That just because they sometimes had sex, or masturbated, or did anything sexual didn't meant they were asexual anymore. Teresa explained it this way: Tom is bisexual. Tom is currently dating a female. Tom is not straight, he is still bisexual. Tom sometimes find that he is more attracted to men than women. Tom is not suddenly gay; he is bisexual, and his dating partner at the moment does not define his sexuality.
Minho and Newt had come in. Newt had eyes red from crying and a stuffy nose, but both were smiling. They thanked Teresa. They also promised to call her if they had any other questions.
Over the next few months, they rarely called. Newt had stopped washing his skin raw. Minho had learned to control his sexual impulses. Even more important, he realized that sometimes, he didn't express how much he really cared for Newt, and he began to try to express it more. It took a lot of time and understanding, but their relationship had blossomed with their understanding. So much so, that after two year, five months, and 16 days since they began dating, Minho planned to propose. That night. And there would be no fuss at all about having honeymoon sex.