Did Newt actually know what he was getting into? Billy wasn't there to save him. And as hard as he Newt kept bringing up Billy at Amy's, the more she wanted to change the subject to Newt.
"We can't possibly talk anymore about me," Newt told her sitting there on the sofa in her livingroom.
"But you're so...." She kept smiling at him, touching his face, his hair. "fascinating."
"I am not." She was making him sleepy with all this talk. What could Billy possibly be doing? It was getting late. He needed to see Billy but here he was in Amy's arms, her hands in his hair tugging him closer as she kissed his mouth, his neck.
It was getting to him.
"Stop putting yourself down," Amy murmur. "Can't you see that I want you."
"No, no you don't." They'd drank to much wine. This was the wine talking, but there was a smile plastered on his face and yes, there was something about her that said to him not to go, but he wanted too.
She Frenched him so softly and contently as if this could really be something amazing if he'd just let it. Before he knew it she had his black shirt off, and lord knows where the trusty bandanna with the skulls went. He kept shaking his head, no, but they were both smiling.
By the time she got into his skinny jeans, he was definitely happy to see her. All of him. It was a shock even to Newt that he could be hard for her.
"You wouldn't have a wrapper, now would you?" Newt tried to be as sincere as possible. Maybe it was just as well to wank off. But she just seemed pleased to his attentiveness.
She kept smiling at him.
"You really are new at this, aren't you?"
"No," he blinked. Possibly, sort of. "Not really. I'd prefer if you didn't-"
"I'm sorry," she then said. "Keep your clothes on."
"I will." He knew it was right. Here in the livingroom of all places.
"We could go to my room." She touched him once more as if she knew he was willing.
He wanted to say no, so badly, but he said, "Splendid." Instead. He pictured Billy in his mind and she did promise him a wrapper.