Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5146817.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Maze_Runner_Series_-_James_Dashner
  Relationship:
      Newt/Thomas_(Maze_Runner)
  Character:
      Newt_(Maze_Runner), Thomas_(Maze_Runner)
  Additional Tags:
      Flirting, Teasing, Straddling, Frottage, Anal_Fingering, Anal_Sex, Spit
      As_Lube, Undressing, Smut, Hand_Jobs, Post-Coital_Cuddling, Kissing,
      Biting, Marking, First_Time, Top_Newt, Bottom_Thomas
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-11-05 Completed: 2015-11-12 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 5340
****** Nice and Comfy ******
by The_Otter_Knight
Summary
     Then comes a quiet murmur behind him, "What the shuck, Minho was
     right. These are comfy."
     Whatever Newt was expecting, it wasn't Thomas in a t-shirt and a pair
     of runnie undies.
     {First chapter is SFW, but chapter two has the smut.}
Notes
     Guess who got the Maze Runner on blu-ray? This guy. Yes. So proud of
     myself. {Actually, I couldn't watch it the day after I got it; I had
     to stay until 11 at work, then we watched Jurassic World the day
     after, so, hopefully today we can watch it. Yes.}
     On a lighter note, does anybody have any requests? I'd prefer within
     TMR-verse/the beginning of TST.
***** Chapter 1 *****
"Alright, so, here you go," he hangs the lock on a hook attached to the door.
The door swings open easily and he slips the key back around his neck, the cool
metal pressing against his warm skin. Thomas warily follows him into the
storage room, his eyes flitting around the room from wall to wall. It wasn't
much, and was quite small, at least when in comparison to their other
buildings, but could have easily held a good portion of the others Gladers if
they all stood inside. There were chests and hangers and rows of hats and
jackets along the wall. He spares a quick look at the ruins of Thomas' clothes,
the result of an apparent tripping accident in the Maze that day. "We try to
only hand out a change of clothes sparingly, so don't try to ruin these ones,
thanks," his mouth quirks into a teasing smile.
"Oh, ha ha," Thomas sticks his tongue out at him, but seems more interested in
checking out the contents of the room than rebuking Newt at the moment.
"Okay, so, you should probably get out of those clothes and we could probably
use the scraps for kindling for the fire or something otherwise," Newt
continues, scratching at his cheek idly. At Thomas' imploring and almost
predatory look, he hastily adds, "I have to stay in here to ensure that you
don't steal anything - not that I think that you would - so, I'll, just turn
around." He frowns slightly and promptly moves away, turning around to spare
Thomas a shred of his dignity and pride while he changed.
There was a sound of discarded clothes hitting the floor, and Thomas' muffled
curses caught Newt's ears. Newt finds a smile curling the corner of his lips
and despite the light awkwardness of the situation, "You don't need help, do
you?"
Thomas sounds every synonym of the word frustrated and flustered when he
responds with, "No, I - shucking pants - don't."
Newt raises his knuckle to his mouth and tries to cover his amused laughter,
although he can still hear Thomas curse him out from behind the lithe blond's
back. He can hear Thomas' sigh of relief as his pants are dropped, and it takes
all of Newt's self control to not smirk like a madman. He hears the sound of a
shirt being pulled over a head - a sound he knows by now because he has lived
with boys for a good two years now - and it being discarded somewhere.
"There should be a chest over there that you can pick some clothes from." Newt
offers up as a means to start the conversation up, but easily lets silence flit
between them. He inspects his fingernails while the solid thunk of the
aforementioned chests being opened resonated through the room. He could hear
the folds of fabric sounding as the younger boy shuffled through the small
compartment.
There's a loose sound of Thomas pulling a shirt out, then him opening another
chest. Newt patiently waits with his back remaining to the other boy.
Surprisingly, there comes a quiet murmur from behind him, "What the shuck,
Minho is right, these are comfy." Newt spares a look over his shoulder,
confusion blending into his features before a snort of laughter peels from the
back of his throat and he clasps a hand to his mouth. Thomas' heads whips up to
look at the blond, as if surprised.
Whatever Newt had been expecting, it wasn't to see the greenie in a pair of
runnie undies - as Minho so passionately named them - and a simple navy blue
shirt. Newt becomes painfully aware of how lithe Thomas is, his muscles like
sinew and his hair almost the same hue as dark chocolate in the lighting. His
skin was slightly red where it was exposed to the sunlight, and there were
streaks of freckles and moles adorning the entirety of his skin. Do they really
lead everywhere? An inappropriate part of his brain supplies. He finds his
mouth inexplicably dry, and looks away quickly, almost painfully, knowing that
he had been caught staring. 
 "Yeah, the shank is always adamant on telling all of us how comfy they are,"
Newt replies stiffly, running a hand through his hair before settling it on the
back of his neck, pointedly staring away at the wall away from Thomas. "Maybe
you should put pants on, Tommy."
"What, am I bothering you?" Newt almost loses himself to embarrassed laughter
when he sees the brunette strike a pose from the corner of his eyes. He tried
not to focus on the fact that the younger's voice had dropped, almost
seductively low, and the fact that if he stays any longer in this room with the
half-dressed boy any longer, the situation may get uncomfortable very fast. "Am
I too hot for you to handle?" Shuck yes, a part of Newt cheers. Thomas pretends
to strike a confident pose and for a delirious moment the blond swore that
Minho was running off on the brunette. Newt feel his face flush at the
implication and he unconsciously takes a step back, narrowing his eyes at the
brunette. He forces a laugh, as if Thomas' comment was a joke; the brunette
just shrugs it off, as if expecting that reaction.
"I think I have to go check on the other Gladers," Newt responds, trying not to
let his very slight discomfort show. Thomas makes a low agreeable noise at the
back of his throat and nods in consideration. No matter if I want to stay, Newt
thinks sourly, inwardly kicking himself. "Well, if you don't need any other
assistance-?" he makes a motion towards the door but Thomas reaches out and
stops him, snagging the taller blond's wrist.
"Wait," Thomas says, sounding almost panicked. Newt turns on his heel, and is
actually startled to see the otherwise confident boy looking at him. Thomas
searches the blond's face, as if looking for something, his shoulders
inexplicably tenser than before. His gaze drops to Newt's lips for a fleeting
moment. "I .. might need assistance getting them off," his voice drops, and
Newt's heart almost skips a beat, "..I mean, if you want." His hand drops from
Newt's wrist then, and he takes a step back. He squints up at Newt through his
dark lashes, waiting for the blond boy to respond aside from the gaping
expression he was surely making.
Newt makes a quick fleeting decision, against his better judgement, and heads
towards the door. Thomas lets out a defeated sigh from behind him, and is in
the beginning of an apology when Newt makes a pointed movement of locking the
door. "As the second in command," he says slowly, carefully, choosing his words
even while his mind is leaping forward. He notices Thomas watching him with
wide eyes, "it is my duty to help Gladers in any way I can. You better hope
nobody else needs my help in the time we're here, greenie."
"I like it when you call me greenie or Tommy," Thomas mumbles as Newt steps
closer, who then grabs his chin carefully, tipping his head up towards the
taller boy.
"I know."
Fortunately for them, nobody comes looking.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Thomas really needed help out of those runnie undies, or at least
     that's what Newt told himself.
Chapter Notes
     This chapter was reuploaded because of a technical issue.
     Furthermore, I apologize for any typos, I typed most of this on a
     phone. I'll also fix up the italicizing problem later, too. Sorry for
     the inconvenience.
      
     For faisyah865, who asked for top!Newt. I hope this meets your
     expectations?
     Also, oops, 4k words. And not all of it is smut? I think most of it
     is details, oops.
     Anyways, let me know if I should fix anything, please? I'd like to
     get better at writing these things (especially because I'm planning
     an A/B/O Newtmas fic) so any critique is welcome.
The tall blond had been in many situations before, but nothing quite like this.
Only a handful of the Gladers weren't so prideful as to withhold themselves
from asking for his help - he honestly believed that he was often perceived as
friendly. However, out of the set amount of times that somebody had asked him
to help, it never ended up like this, his hands cupping the other's face.
Kissing Thomas isn't what he'd imagined it to be, the other's boy's lips were
softer than he thought, and their kiss was quick and fleeting, like a gentle
stroke of butterfly wings. Newt runs his thumbs over Thomas' face, stroking the
smooth skin before deepening the kiss, feeling the other breathe into him in
surprise, parting his lips just enough for Newt to completely captivate him.
Thomas shudders, breathing in sharply through his nose and promptly closing his
eyes, letting the older brush his tongue along his lips.
"Is this okay?" he asks, sneaking in some room between them, voice quiet even
though he knows it's unlikely someone will overhear them.
Thomas blinks blearily at him, as if coming back to his senses. There was a
high flush on his cheeks, and he was looking at Newt with half-lidded eyes.
"Mh?"
"Is it okay for me to kiss you? I should have asked you before, but," his voice
trails off and he searches the other's face, as if he can read his response in
his eyes.
"Of course," Thomas says after a moment of consideration, mouth crooking up.
"I'm not complaining, I mean, I might if you don't -what's the word?- slim it
and kiss me again." Newt rolls his eyes affectionately and leans down to kiss
Thomas again, intent on wiping away that growing smile on the boy's face.
Thomas seemed completely content with letting Newt inspect his mouth,
physically, with his tongue. Newt could feel the heat that bled into Thomas'
cheeks, the warmth that lit his face up while their kiss deepened.
"So bloody adorable," he murmurs, and Thomas seems almost startled by this
revelation, peering at him through haze-filled eyes. He hadn't even realized
that he had let the words slip, "S'nothing, Tommy." He lets his hands slide
lower, and Thomas makes a low noise at the back of his throat, goosebumps
noticeable along his arms. His fingers run along the boy's ribcage, mapping
every crevice and dip. Thomas closes his eyes briefly and takes in a sharp
breath every time that Newt's hands swoop lower.
He's tugged down into a fiercer kiss, more teeth than lips. It's the sort of
kiss that leaves him breathless and near lightheaded, and gradually, it grows
softer, but not any less needier. Thomas seems gravely uncertain, pulling back
every once in a while before crashing their lips together, his brows furrowing
and his eyes tight together like he's concentrating very hard. It becomes
increasingly difficult to breathe, and Newt has to take a step back.
Thomas' hair is mussed, and he thinks his is equal in the mess, but he doubts
anything could beat the absolute flushed look that Thomas blinks at him. "Hey,"
he murmurs, feeling like electricity courses through his veins every time the
brunette tries to make another dive for his lips, but seems to settle on
resting his hands on the older's hips, tugging at the hems of his shirt. "Are
you sure you want to do this, Tommy?" The nickname feels heavy in his mouth,
far more intimate considering what Thomas was propositioning but the younger
only shakes his head furiously.
"No, don't you shucking dare back out on me now. Like you said, second in
command's gotta help with anything the greenies ask for, yeah? 'Sides, I
wouldn't 've asked you to stay otherwise," he demands, voice growing softer at
the end, beginning to pull up Newt's shirt, who doesn't put much of a fuss up
otherwise. The fabric scratches on his skin uneasily, but after a brief blanket
of darkness he sees Thomas staring intently at him, letting his hands roam.
Newt takes a moment to pry his hands away and kisses the knuckles individually
before giving Thomas a chaste kiss.
Not wanting to be the only one without a shirt, he tugs at Thomas', and
admittedly struggles with it, catching on the other's elbow but eventually they
manage to discard it. Newt lets his eyes wander, admiring Thomas' lithe form
with the beginning of toned muscles. Moles and freckles were scattered across
his skin, and he was visibly flushing the more Newt just mindlessly watched
him, smirking gently before pulling him into a kiss that clicks their teeth
together, their mouths pressing together in a way that wasn't any less needy
than before. The taller bloke's hands roam, spreading along his shoulders
before settling down further and settling along the other's hips, carefully
aware of the texture of smooth silk from below his pinkies. Thomas' hands find
their way into his mess of blond hair, snagging and tugging to control the
angle, slotting their mouths in a way that it's a smoother transition for them
to kiss.
He rolls his hips experimentally, and Thomas all but jerks in response,
shuddering and making a low appreciative noise at the back of his throat. Newt
smiles into the kiss, enjoying the way that Thomas takes a stuttering gasp of
breath and exhaling with a curse. He could feel the slightly jerky movements of
Thomas' hips from where he had placed his hands. "Do you like that, Tommy?" he
whispers, breath trailing over the other's ear, and elicits a delicious shiver
through the Runner's form. A tentative roll of his hips sends Thomas all but
mewling, his head dropping for a moment and his eyelids fluttering, another
curse leaving his lips. "What do you want, Tommy?" A nonverbal murmur was his
response, so Newt cups the other's face and turns him so that they're looking
relatively eye to eye.
"All of you," Thomas says with a huff, as if it was obvious. Newt smiles
despite himself, feeling warmth flood through him and he chastely puts a kiss
to Thomas' lips, before migrating to the shell of his ear and pressing a kiss
there as well. Thomas breaths in a quick breath of surprise, but obediently
tilts his head to the side, eyes closing partially as he lets Newt trail
appreciative kisses along the line of his throat. Newt could taste the sweat
and dust of the day rubbed into the other's skin, and would waste no time in
showing that his efforts to map the Maze would not go unrewarded. "You ought to
know that by now, Newt," Thomas continues saying, voice catching on the
syllables with each mark pressed into his skin. Newt makes a contemplative
noise and presses a kiss to Thomas' Adam's apple before pulling back, looking
at Thomas, who is staring back with his pupils blown wide with lust and other
emotions running high.
"My mistake," he responds, voice husky despite himself. "Maybe you can forgive
me?" His hands wander a bit lower and he gives a slow, languid stroke, watching
Thomas' expression fold in on itself as he bites his lip and tries not to groan
aloud. If he had been flushed before, then it was nothing compared to now. He
shifts on his feet, suddenly aware of his own length at attention, his breath
coming out in a short gasp. "I want to see you writhing beneath me," he says,
voice quiet, as if telling a secret. He does not miss the way that Thomas
practically preens at the idea, grabbing his wrists and settling it back on his
hips.
"Yeah, yeah, I forgive you," he quietly speaks with a wry grin, a lock of hair
falling across his brow. He raises his hands and tugs Newt's face closer to
his, running his hand along his square jawline, tongue slipping out and tracing
along the outline of his lips. Newt presses his thumbs into Thomas' hips, who
leans forward in response to the touch. He's aware of how close they are, and
that friends shouldn't technically be doing this, but he wouldn't - couldn't -
stop unless Thomas wanted him to.
"Newt, are you just going to stand there or help me like a proper second-in-
command?" Thomas demands, his expression morphing into feigned annoyance, his
arms looping around Newt's neck before burying into his blond hair.
"Hm, I don't know, I think I'd rather prefer seeing you like this, Tommy," Newt
laughs, but corresponds to Thomas' wishes, and all but rests his mouth on the
other's collarbone, leaving a trail of faint bruises while he squirms beneath
him, small whines and pleading noises leaving his lips.
"Please, Newt," Thomas whispers quietly, practically sagging onto the taller
blond, and they go falling to the floor, a tangle of limbs. Thomas curls his
thumbs into Newt's jeans loops and settles his legs on either side of him.
 "Don't you dare promise me something and back out," he says, suddenly,
venomously even though he was breathless.
Newt is painfully aware of how constrictive his pants are, but there's
something alluring about the way that Thomas is pleading with him like this.
"Okay," he hums in agreement before it dissolves into a sharp gasp when Thomas
dared to rock his hips. A triumphant look crosses the brunette's face, but it
also wanes away when he presses down again, the rough friction of his
undergarments and jeans.
"Bloody hell," leaves his lips. He lets his hands rest along Thomas' hips,
thumbs digging in a little bit too hard but the greenie didn't seem to mind. "I
need to - can I get out of my pants?" he breaths out, wriggling from beneath
Thomas.
Thomas hesitates, his lips parted slightly, slowing in his grinding downwards,
before he grins, "Oh? Yeah? Are your pants the other thing you'll be removing,
then, boss?" He rolls the last word, almost a near purr.
"I won't be removing anything at this rate, Tommy," Newt murmurs, followed by a
curse and a startled gasp from Thomas. "Besides, I'm sure we'd both enjoy a bit
of - a-ah - less clothing on us." He lets his head sink to the floor, toes
curling from inside his shoes. Right, he should probably take them off as well.
Thomas frowns, contemplating, his fingers moving listlessly across the taller
blond's chest. "Okay," he says, and swings his leg over Newt and awkwardly
tries to occupy himself while Newt pulled his upper body up, then toed his
shoes off, kicking them off a short ways before he unzips his pants and tries
to shimmy his legs out, trying to ignore Thomas' quiet laughter nearby. His
pants disappear somewhere as he all but lunges at Thomas, who let's out a
dignified squawk when he falls backwards, his arms giving way.
"Slim your laughter, greenie," he says, face flushed as he leans down to kiss
Thomas, whose eyes unfocus quickly while the blond runs his fingers up and down
his ribs. "Hey," he pulls back to breath. "I don't remember running undies
being this tight." He runs a couple fingers under the waistband of Thomas'
undergarments, smirking down at the brunette who scowls up at him with a
flushed face.
"Well, s'all your fault, you caused it," Thomas grumbles with a slight hiss
when Newt leans back for a better angle to pull the devastating cloth
downwards, elevating himself just slightly so it's removed.
"Bloody good that," Newt says darkly, licking his lips absently while staring
down at Thomas appraisingly, who now stood stark bare to him.
Thomas' eyes are dark with the flush highlighting his cheeks,  and the
smoldering look he gives Newt causes a shiver to run down his spine.  "What?"
"I mean, good that I caused it. And only me, right? I don't like to share,
especially not when it comes to you, Tommy," he leans forward, letting his
tongue rest against the hollow of Thomas' throat.
"S-shucking possessive, aren't you?" Thomas says, moaning whilst Newt marked
his skin again. "O-oh shhhuck. Everybody's going to see if you keep going on
like that."
That gives Newt reason to pause. "Let them see," he says, pulling back before
pressing a quick kiss to the bow of Thomas' lips. "Unless you have a problem
with it,  greenie?" He remembered Thomas' offhand comment about him liking
being called that. He raises an eyebrow for emphasis.
"Well, actua -- HOLY SHUCKS," Thomas' voice rose, his eyes closing dramatically
and his head falling back, exposing his marked neck. His hips jerks upwards,
his length sliding into Newt's waiting hand, where the blond had stroked him
while keeping him distracted with words. "Holy. Do ... do that again. Please,
Newt." His arms shook despite himself.
Newt smiles, knowing that Thomas is watching him with half-lidded eyes.
"S'course, Tommy," he replies, voice thick with his accent before he runs his
hand back down Thomas' length, fingers teasingly stroking his thigh meanwhile.
Thomas' hips give a jerky erratic movement in response. When Newt slicks his
hands back up, he curls his fingers just enough, letting his fingers scrape
along the flushed skin.
Thomas becomes a shuddering, gasping mess, arms giving way so that he's
sprawled on his back, his head tossed while he breathed deeply, a high keening
noise coming from his partly bruised lips.
"You're so bloody perfect, Tommy," Newt whispers, eliciting growing moans from
the brunette, who tries to stifle himself slightly.
"Ne-Newt... n-nh - y-yes j-just keep going," Thomas mewls, back arching. I'm
the one doing this to him, he thinks deliriously, a slight grin rising on his
otherwise flushed face. "G-geez, wait, wa-wait." Newt's hand imeddiately
freezes, curled around Thomas' member, growing slick with precome so the
movement was slicker. Beads of sweat were visible on Thomas' skin, and he
looked about ready to come undone. "Not yet, not yet," he whispers.
"Tommy?" Newt isn't aware his voice had risen until then, a questioning tone
tilting his words. The brunette peeks at him through hazed eyes, quivering
beneath the blond's hands. "Thomas..?"
"Don't call me Thomas, please," Thomas gasps, curling himself into a position
so that he could smack away Newt's stilled hand. Newt was still befuddled,
confused as to why Thomas couldn't just appreciate what he was offering him. "I
do not want to come, not yet," Thomas takes another shuddering gasp of air.
"You have to - can you - fuck me, Newt, please."
That shouldn't have sounded endearing - at all. But yet it did, and admittedly
Newt felt like his boxers grew two sizes too small with how husky Thomas had
asked him. He Swallows thickly, and shuffles closer towards Thomas, who peers
up at him with a flushed face. "Tommy?" He asks, not sure how to even begin  to
phrase his question.
Thomas' eyes are wide and dark while he stares at Newt, "I could die tomorrow,
or the next day in the Maze. You'd be the only one, I swear it, Newt - but I
don't want to die without being fucked by you." His expression softens, as if
another idea occurred to him, "Or make love to me. It doesn't matter. Just ...
please, Newt, please. I need you."
Something inside of Newt shifts, and he finds himself nodding. The look of
relief and adoration that Thomas sends him is enough to send his heart
thundering. "We don't even have anything to .. to ease me inside, Tommy, it'd
hurt," Newt says, running his fingers along the brunette's hip bone.  He'd only
want Thomas comfortable, after all.
"Then go without," Thomas says, irritation bleeding into his voice as he clasps
his wrists around Newt's shoulders, gaze unwavering. "I can handle it - I
shouldn't be a runner otherwise, if I can't handle a bit of pain. It's okay,
Newt." He rests his forehead against Newt's, letting the blond kiss him.
"Okay," Newt murmurs, removing his hands from Thomas' hips and lower back long
enough for him to slip down his boxers - nothing like the shiny material that
Thomas was wearing - and gives a quick stroke of his length, feeling the
familiar flush of warmth pool in his lower stomach. He sets a hand along
Thomas' hip before sliding it to the brunette's butt, to keep him stationary,
before he brings his other hands to his lips and makes sure a couple fingers
were slathered in spit. He then moves his hand past Thomas' member and between
his cheeks, gently probing with his index until he could find he finds what
he's looking for.
He encircles Thomas' heat, staring at the brunette who stares right back, his
breathing slightly higher the more Newt tried to get him to relax.There's a
faint whispering in the back of his mind, and he knows he hasn't done this
before, but surely, someone had taught him what to do or how everything worked
at some point before his memory wipe, all those years ago. And maybe listening
to other Gladers' conversations helped some.
"Okay," Thomas breaths and presses against Newt's hand, the heel of his palm
pressing against his other flushed skin. He eases his finger in slowly,
noticing a flash of discomfort and unease flit across Thomas' features, but he
makes no motion for him to stop. He pushes in as far as he could go, and
wiggles his finger slightly, tensing when Thomas lets out a soft hiss of
annoyance.
Newt feels the warm feeling of affection flood through him, and he's suddenly
aware of how much Thomas is trusting him - this didn't really seem all that
comfortable. He removes his finger, before easing in two digits, letting Thomas
relax enough. Aside from preparing Thomas this way - letting him adjust to the
girth of his fingers before even entertaining the idea of inserting himself -
he had no other idea of how to help him with this. He eventually eases in a
third finger, to which Thomas lets out another "okay, okay," and tugs gently at
the hair at Newt's nape.
"Are you sure, Tommy?" He breaths out, eyes flicking to the brunette's face.
"We don't have to if -"
"I trust you, Newt," Thomas swears, offering a reassuring smile and raises his
hips to brush against Newt's, which sends a spark running through him.
"Please." Newt swallows thickly, and grabs onto Thomas' hips and moves him
upwards so that he could position his legs to wrap around his waist. It's
awkward fumbling, especially because they're all but laying on the ground. With
an encouraging nod from Thomas, Newt eases in slowly, nearly losing his grip on
Thomas' hips by the feeling that enveloped him.
"Bloody hell," he groans out, Thomas matching him with the noise. He wasn't
even halfway in yet, and already the warmth and pulsing tightness felt like a
heavenly escape to him. He digs him thumbs in, whispering apologies when Thomas
winces, but he lets Thomas adjust all the same. Meanwhile, Newt just tries to
bask in the warmth that was Thomas, a blissful cavern that felt like a right
cord around him. He could feel every shift that Thomas made that involved him
moving his lower half, especially when he angled himself so that the slide
would be easier.
"Okay, go," Thomas murmurs and Newt moves his hips forward, and despite the
fact that there was minimal lubrication, he still winced on Thomas' behalf when
he slid in completely. They both take this moment to collect themselves, chests
pressed close as they breathed. Thomas' eyes were scrunched tight, but he
didn't seem to be in too much pain, just a bit of discomfort. It was amazing,
this sloppy and messy unison between -- ... oh, did this make them more than
friends?
Before Newt could contemplate that, Thomas rolls his hips as best as he can,
licking his lips and peering up at Newt with a content expression. "Please,"
his voice is raspy, and Newt's self control dissolves some.
The pace is uneven, a slow snap of his hips, dragging out of Thomas' warmth
before pressing back in at Thomas' insistence, the blanket of warmth feeling
like pure bliss to him. It likely isn't pretty, he realizes, and it probably
isn't the best, but it's special,  it's what they need to unwind and get
closer, and at this moment it was perfect.
Newt knew before that he couldn't last long. He abstained from most activities
unlike the other Gladers, too tired at night and too single minded in the
morning and day to distract himself. But he remembered the one time him and
Alby grew friendly with each other, and how quickly he had come then. It was
unlikely he'd last too long anyways.
Thomas was trying to keep up with the thrusts, his eyes rolling as he welcomed
the feeling washing over him. Or at least, Newt hoped so. "Please, Newt. P-
please - a-ah - go faster. I - I'm not glass.." Newt lets out a huff of
acknowledgement, and let's his hips quicken the pace, moving into Thomas at a
growing pace.
"Ah!" Thomas suddenly lets out a loud gasp, his nails digging into Newt's back,
causing him to wince and his thrust to falter. "Right there - aim right there,
Newt." Newt takes a moment to compose himself, to tell himself that Thomas
wasnt in pain and aimed his hips like Thomas instructed. Thomas positively
preens at the thrusts, arching his back and gaping his mouth, digging his
fingers into Newt's shoulders. He mutters something unintelligent, hooking his
ankles behind Newt's back.
Newt could feel his climax build up inside of him, nearing the edge with each
murmur wrenched from Thomas' lips. Thomas makes another small noise and unwinds
his arms from Newt's neck, and lowers it towards his own erect length. Newt
immediately stiffens and stalls his movements, moving one of his hands to
Thomas' girth. "No, Tommy. I will be the only one who will make you come,
okay?" Thomas makes a low noise at the back of his throat, before giving a
throaty "okay".
It's slightly awkward, trying to aim his thrusts while one of his hands sunk
between them, experimentedly stroking Thomas. The brunette didn't seem to mind,
and instead tossed his head back, exposing his many marks. A flash of
possessiveness floods through him, and causes his thrusts to become a bit
harsher. He can feel jolts run through him, and he knows he won't last, not
with Thomas clenching around him like that.
"I want to be the only one to touch you like this, Tommy," Newt asks, more of a
breathy moan than actual words.
"Yes," Thomas agrees, the last letter rolling on his tongue. "Newt, I -" He
looked up into Newt's face, trying to meet the blond's thrusts, either to let
Newt skip into him again or to slide his own length between Thomas' hands, he
didn't know. "Newt, I'm going to-"
"Let go, greenie," Newt manages to say huskily, and Thomas gives a violent
shudder, eyes closing tightly and a loud moan wrenching from his lips, his back
arching and walls clenching around Newt. His come soaks Newt's hands, seeping
through his fingers.
The sight of Thomas, breathless and panting beneath him, white smattering his
palm and their skin, in addition to the clamping ring of muscle around his
shafts is enough to send Newt over the edge, hips snapping downwards bruising
efore he releases,  warmth flooding through and out of him. "Tommy," he
whispers, quivering and losing his posture, completely collapsing onto the
younger boy.
Thomas' breath is warm on his ear, his hands lazily trying to hang onto Newt,
hold him close until he goes limp, so then he could pull out. Thomas makes a
soft noise at the extrusion and squints at Newt, who rolls off of him and
mutters an apology. Thomas breaths heavily, but it's calmer than Newt's, at
least. Newt feels like a rubber band; like he has been snapped and he's just
bounced back, basking in the afterglow. He rolls his head to look over at
Thomas, and smiles gently at him.
"Well, what do you know," Thomas says, curling around the lankier boy's body,
allowing Newt to curl his head atop of Thomas'. "Second in commands don't seem
to mind helping greenies out with a, hah, problem."
Newt smiles into Thomas' hair, and just hopes that nobody needs them soon. He'd
like to be able to cuddle with Thomas for as long as he could. "I don't think
you should be called a greenie anymore, Tommy."
Thomas smiles and touches the bruises along his neck fondly. "Yeah." He tilts
his head to look up at Newt then, a fond look growing in his warm eyes. "So,
are you going to wear runnie undies for me anytime soon, Newt?"
Newt's responding laughter was enough of an answer.
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