-Final chapter, yay! Thanks so much for all the reviews you guys left! They never stop making me smile like an idiot when I read them XD

So, a warning: I don't know what kind of Minewt I was reading before I wrote this, but this turned out a little different from my other M-rated scenes between these two. It's still not very graphic, but, um yeah. It got hot. XD

Let me know what you think! Until the next story, see you later!-

The song was slowly winding through the air, the floor glimmering and golden, as Minho guided Newt out into the center of the crowd. Minho kept his hold on Newt's hand light as he weaved between the already-dancing couples. There were girls with their heads on guys' shoulders, spinning around slowly together. The dreamy look in their eyes blocked out all other emotions. Love was thick in the air, more addicting than any drug.

Minho halted in the middle of the dance floor and turned to face Newt. Pulling the blonde closer, he slipped his hands chastely around Newt's waist. Newt smiled and placed his hands at Minho's neck. They began to move, lazy and graceful. Four inches separated them, four inches of empty space between them. Newt quickly sank into this feeling, letting himself drown in it. It was lovely, the way they moved together, mirroring each other. He didn't want the song to ever end.

Halfway through the song, Minho grinned mischievously. "My goodness, sir, I'm surprised," he teased playfully. "When I first saw you over at the bar, I didn't expect you to be much of a dancer. Do you come here often?"

Newt laughed and decided to play along. "Actually, no, I don't," he answered lightly. "But you must; you dance so well."

"Oh, no, you're just trying to flatter me," Minho replied.

"It's true, it's true. You're excellent."

Minho's grin went crooked then and he moved his body closer to Newt's. His breath ghosted over Newt's ear as he murmured, "I'm even better in bed, love."

Newt felt his heart spin like a top in his chest. Goosebumps rose where Minho's breath tickled his skin at his neck. The words made him shudder. "Oh?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"You'd find out if you'd come up to my room with me." Minho's hands played with the back of Newt's shirt.

"I'd hardly join someone I just met on the dance floor up to his room," Newt replied, still keeping the game going. "It'd have to be for a very good reason..."

"Don't try to act coy now," Minho whispered seductively. "I knew as soon as I saw you that you wanted me."

"And what would make you think that?"

"The way you look at me, the way you dance with me." Minho traced his nose over the curve of Newt's ear. "The way you touch me."

Newt's fingers tightened in the back of Minho's shirt collar. Damn, Minho was good at this. If he really had been a stranger, Newt would've been done for by now. Minho's lips touched his ear and he inhaled shudderingly. "Minho."

"Hmm?" Minho hummed, and nibbled at Newt's earlobe.

"W—we're in public," Newt warned. Minho teased his earlobe with his tongue in response and Newt bit back his moan. Stopping the dance, he stepped back from Minho, out of his arms. His breaths wouldn't come evenly. "I need air," he stammered. He did. He needed some space from Minho, before he decided to forget about the people around them and put Minho up against a wall.

Minho's half-smile was full of delight at Newt's reaction. He came up next to his husband again and touched his waist politely. "Then come on," he encouraged. "We can get another Blue Flame while we wait for a new slow song."

"I think I remember saying we'd leave after one," Newt reminded him drily.

"Yes, but do you really wanna leave now?" Minho raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Newt huffed out a resigned sigh. "...no," he confessed. Minho chuckled in triumph and Newt elbowed his side. "Aw, shut up. Let's just go get a drink already."

"Fine by me," Minho replied brightly.

That was the moment when things got interesting.

They went back to the bar and ordered two more Blue Flames. Their lightning-bolt flavor was just as intoxicating as before. Then, when another slow song was played, they danced. Couples sent them curious glances, but neither of them seemed to care. When THAT song ended, however, they found themselves back at the bar again. And so, the pattern began. Dance, laugh, flirt, drink. The dancing was beautiful, their movements fluidly easy. The laughing was genuine and needed in the cheery atmosphere. The flirting was always sexy with Minho. It was the drinking part that got to them.

Newt, innocent, shy, angelic Newt, had never ever been drunk before. Now, granted, he wasn't VERY drunk now. But it was enough to put a buzz in the back of his head and make his judgement slip a little. Minho, on the other hand, HAD been drunk before and knew exactly what it felt like. He kinda knew that maybe they should stop drinking that night, but Newt looked so beautiful and happy that Minho (as usual) caved.

They were losing themselves in the night, in the wild, moonlit feel of it. They danced daringly, hands wandering where they shouldn't have. Newt loved to keep his lips at Minho's ear when they slow-danced because every word he whispered produced a full-body shiver. Minho's hands toyed with Newt's waistband, tracing the place where it rested at Newt's hips. They were reckless and sexy and in love. Newt didn't realize when his feet started moving or where they stopped at. The walls soared high and blurred past. Hallways came and went. Doors flashed by on either side. The smell of the outside, of the ocean and white sand, met his senses. It was unlike anything else.

And suddenly, he found himself with his back pressed to a mattress and Minho above him. Through his clouded mind, he saw that Minho was gloriously shirtless, wearing only his black dress pants. Newt could also tell that his own shirt had been torn open and, well, he couldn't really see where his pants were at the moment. He decided not to care as soon as Minho's mouth was on his.

They kissed frantically, drunkenly, hands clinging to skin. Minho's body was hard and lean over Newt's, his forearms supporting himself. Their kisses were deep, Minho's tongue running over Newt's teeth and making him whine. Lacing his fingers through Minho's hair, Newt pulled his head back until he could bite at Minho's lower lip. He took it between his teeth and sucked lightly. Minho released a needy moan from his ribcage. His hand fell down and gripped Newt's thigh. The pressure of every finger dug into Newt's skin and made him feel shocks of electricity bolt up his leg. Through his drunkenness, he struggled to think, to stay the sensible one, like he always was. It was impossible.

Minho ducked down and pressed his lips to Newt's neck. Kissing hard, he moved his mouth downward to the center of Newt's throat. He nipped once, listening to Newt's tiny whimper. Newt's fingers gripped at Minho's shoulders as his breaths came faster. Minho mouthed down to Newt's collarbone and traced the line of it with his tongue. Newt gasped, his head tipping back. God, he couldn't think, couldn't breathe. It was all too much, and yet he couldn't get enough. Minho was making his way down Newt's body now, taking his time, not leaving one place un-kissed. He scraped his teeth gently down Newt's chest and touched featherlight kisses along Newt's stomach. He worshipped Newt's body as though it as a precious gem, something treasured to him. "You're shucking gorgeous," he mumbled, voice still drink-thickened against Newt's stomach.

Newt made a weak sound at the feel of Minho's voice vibrating against his skin. One hand was buried deep in Minho's black hair, the other knotted in the sheets. He tried to regain his senses. He lost them all again when Minho dipped his tongue into Newt's navel. The hand at his leg moved, rubbing along his inner thigh and driving him wild. "M—Minho," he stuttered, as Minho's fingers curled into the fabric of his boxers.

Minho pulled at Newt's waistband with his teeth. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked in a murmur. Besides kissing and heavily making out (and, okay, quite a few illicit touches), they'd never gone THAT far with each other. It was always something they'd waited for.

Newt wasn't thinking about that at the moment. All he was thinking about was how bad he wanted Minho's mouth on him. He shook his head. "Don't stop," he pleaded. He tightened his grip on Minho's hair; he knew Minho was sensitive with that, when Newt threaded his fingers into Minho's hair while they made out.

Minho purred at the touch. Daringly, he placed a kiss on Newt's length over his boxers. Newt's hips lifted instantly, begging for more. Minho smirked smugly and kissed Newt's length again, then dragged his tongue along it over the thin fabric. Newt mewled at the friction, but it wasn't enough. It was nowhere near enough. He was panting now, both from the delicious touches Minho was giving him and the anticipation. He practically lost all of his breath when Minho's fingers dipped into his waistband. Minho was torturously slow when he peeled Newt's clothing down. He didn't pull them off entirely, instead keeping them at Newt's knees. Newt squirmed under him; he wanted everything off. His shirt, though open, was still on him too. He ached to be completely bare under Minho's fingertips.

His thoughts dissolved when Minho took part of Newt's length in his mouth. He sucked just once and Newt was embarrassed by the groan that tore out of him. His body was trembling, his knees trapped by his boxers every time he tried to open his legs wider for Minho. It was incredibly frustrating, but undeniably sexy at the same time. Minho took Newt's thighs in his hands. He licked Newt once, twice, then blew gently on his scorching skin. Newt tried to buck his hips up, but Minho halted him. "Minho, please," Newt mewled. "Please, please..."

Minho whimpered aloud at the words. "I love it when you beg," he gasped out. His breath fanned over the inside of Newt's thighs, sending a shudder up his body. Minho closed his mouth over Newt again, and started sucking harder than before. Back arching, Newt made an obscene sound he'd never dared to make. His mind spun. Oh god, the heat was just ADDICTING, and he could feel the slightest brush of Minho's teeth, and dear lord, his tongue. That alone could've made Newt come. He writhed over the mattress as Minho drew his lips up Newt's length, then back down again. Newt nearly sobbed when Minho suddenly removed his mouth from him. He lightly ghosted kisses all over Newt's length instead, driving him to his breaking point.

"Oh god, Minho," Newt whined.

Minho gladly gave Newt more of what he wanted. He gave Newt one last kiss before taking him into his mouth again. This time, he didn't hold back when he moved his mouth over Newt, feeling the skin soft and so smooth under his lips. Newt's chest heaved, his fingers clawing into the sheets. He could feel himself getting closer, the climax rippling up inside of him. The way Minho licked and sucked at him was making him go out of his mind. Minho dragged his tongue roughly under Newt's length, and the feeling was enough to make Newt throw his head back as he came, moaning out loud at the intense pleasure.

He panted hard, his thoughts hopelessly jumbled. He felt Minho kissing his way back up Newt's body, until he reached his mouth again. Newt mewled when he tasted himself on Minho's lips. Minho chuckled wickedly when he heard it. "Not even trying to stay quiet when we're in a hotel?" he asked teasingly, kissing Newt's mouth again. "The people next door are gonna know how bad my angel is acting..."

"Min," Newt snapped. And before he could think twice, he added desperately, "shut up and make love to me already."

Minho blinked. All traces of his being drunk were gone. "What?" he asked, taken off-guard.

Newt realized what he'd said. They'd never had sex before. Not once. And God, the way he'd said it had made him sound so lustful and mindless. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered. "I wasn't thinking. We don't...have to..."

Minho reached up while Newt spoke and trailed his fingers down Newt's cheek. "Do you want to?" he asked quietly. He searched Newt's gaze carefully.

Newt's pulse leaped. "I thought...Well, I always assumed...we were waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Minho gave a small smile. "Newt, we've dated for five years. Now we're married. I finally have you for the rest of my life." He dropped his eyes shyly. "And besides, I'm in love with you. I'm too in love with you to ever even think of wanting someone else. So, if you want me, I won't stop you." He kissed Newt's nose. "I'm ready to give myself to you," he whispered softly.

Newt gazed up at Minho and knew right then that there was nothing he wanted more then to have all of Minho at last. He loved him more than his own life. He wanted this piece of him. "Okay," he breathed, the permission leaving him in a sigh.

Minho touched his forehead to Newt's briefly. "All right, sweetheart." He watched Newt carefully as he used his foot to push Newt's boxers off the rest of the way; they fell carelessly onto the foot of the bed, forgotten. Brushing a kiss to Newt's lips, Minho sat up, straddling his husband. Newt propped himself on his elbows, his heartbeat beginning to race wildly. His eyes followed Minho's every movement as he unbuckled his belt and then undid his pants. The sight of Minho with no shirt, and his pants undone and sinking low, was the sexiest thing Newt had ever seen.

Minho slipped out of his clothes and held himself over Newt again. With a shuddering breath, he slotted his body between Newt's legs. Newt felt the first pang of nervousness when Minho hooked his leg over one shoulder. "Wait," he gasped.

Minho halted instantly. "Angel?"

Newt swallowed hard. "Be gentle, okay?" he asked in a small voice, blushing.

Minho's expression softened. He stroked his thumbs soothingly over Newt's hips. "Of course," he murmured. "If you want to stop, just tell me. I don't want to hurt you." It sounded strange to come out of his mouth, because Minho would never dream of hurting Newt, and here he was, warning him about it.

Newt nodded silently. He didn't think he'd tell Minho to stop. But then Minho brushed against him and, god, then he was pushing inside. Newt's back left the mattress as his spine arched. He clapped a hand over his mouth, cutting off his broken whimper. He hadn't expected it to feel like this.

Minho was trying to breathe steadily, but his voice broke as he asked, "are you okay?"

Newt shivered. "It h—hurts," he admitted. "But only...only a little."

"Okay. I can—Oh, god." Minho cut himself off abruptly, bowing his head. His shoulders trembled as he struggled to control himself. "You're making me lose my mind," he groaned, even though he hadn't even started moving yet.

Newt had never seen Minho so unhinged before. He closed his eyes. "More," he begged. "I want more."

Minho gave a low sound from his throat and pulled back, almost the whole way out of Newt. Then he slid in again, setting a slow, careful pace. Newt's eyes flew open. He hadn't expected it to feel like this either. It felt hellishly, wonderfully, sinfully good. It set his mind reeling. His fingers scraped over the sheets as Minho's tedious movements pushed him up the mattress. Sparks danced their way up his body. It was too slow. He needed more.

"Minho, please," Newt pleaded, fighting for his voice. "Faster, harder, anything."

Minho whined out loud at Newt's begging. In the next instant, he gave one, hard thrust, dragging in deeper. Newt's head fell back, his lips parting. Minho's body ground into him with increasing pressure, faster than before. Every time he thrusted that deep into Newt, it made Newt see stars. He moaned, long and low as Minho grabbed for his hips. Canting Newt's hips up, Minho tried for a better angle. He rocked his hips forward and hit something inside of Newt that he hadn't hit before. Newt felt an explosion of ecstasy at that place, making him gasp and bite his lip. But Minho thrusted into it again and Newt cried out in pleasure.

Minho gritted his teeth as he began pounding into Newt even harder. Newt was shoved against the mattress, the breath forced out of his lungs. Minho was mewling above him, Newt's name leaving him in shattered ecstasy. Every time he slid over that place in Newt, it sent the blonde out of his mind. He could hear someone whining desperately and knew it was him. He couldn't take much more of this. It was mind-blowing pleasure, fireworks, lightning. It lit him up until he couldn't breathe. His climax ignited inside of him and he let out another, weak cry at the feel of it. Minho came seconds later, and Newt nearly fainted when he heard Minho's beautiful voice moaning like that.

They collapsed beside each other, exhausted and panting. Minho stretched out beside Newt, one hand resting on Newt's chest. Newt let his body sink into the mattress. It was then that he realized that he was still wearing his bloody shirt. "Oh hell," he muttered, sitting up long enough to shrug out of his shirt and toss it somewhere on the floor. Laying back down, he settled himself against the soft pillows, a long sigh of bliss leaving him.

Minho shifted closer to him, tucking his head in the crook of Newt's neck and looping an arm around the blonde's waist. He nuzzled Newt's neck, breathing in. "You smell so good," he mumbled huskily. He hummed softly in content and closed his eyes. "You're incredible. I never thought it'd be...like that."

Newt gave a short laugh. "What do you mean?" he asked disbelievingly. "You had boyfriends before me, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Minho rubbed his hand over Newt's waist absently. "I've never done something like this with them."

Newt's eyebrows flicked up. He was a little guilty to admit this, but he'd always assumed that Minho had been having sex before he'd met Newt. He was MINHO, after all; who could resist him? "So you never...?"

Minho shook his head. "No. The people I dated before you never lasted for more than a month. I was young. I didn't know what it felt like to really fall in love. None of them were like you." He smiled a bit bashfully then. "So, um, yeah. That was my virginity."

Newt blushed a little. Obviously, he had lost his virginity too. He'd never had one boyfriend before Minho. Minho was his first, his only. He smiled slightly and nosed into Minho's velvety hair. "It was mine too," he whispered.

"I figured," Minho replied, and Newt gave an indignant, "hey!"

"I was JOKING," Minho laughed. He kissed Newt's jaw, then reached down to pull the sheets over both of them. They were soft as silk and he tugged them up to their necks. Snuggling closer to his husband, he closed his eyes. "Newt?"

"What?"

"I love you."

Newt pressed himself up against Minho's chest in the gathering dark, soaking in his warmth. "I love you, too, Minho," he whispered.

Outside, he could hear the soft whisper of ocean waves, just before he gave in to sleep.