hey guys.. I finally did it... after ten years of being in the fandom, I finally wrote newtmas fanfic..
Thomas lay on his makeshift bed and stared up at the ceiling, the smell of smoke drifting into his room. The others were all outside having a bonfire, and the sounds of their laughter echoed through the night. He wanted to go out there and join them, but he wasnât exactly in the mood for celebration. Minho was still stuck at WICKED headquarters, and Thomas was terrified they wouldnât be able to rescue him.
He sighed as he turned onto his side, wrapping the blanket around himself. Nights in the desert were cold, so different from the warm, temperate evenings he was used to in the Glade. Thomas never thought that he would miss it as much as he did now, but things were much simpler in there. No Cranks, no sun flares, nobody wanting to shoot you just for being immune, something you couldnât even control..
Thomas huffed as he tried to rid himself of these thoughts. That was exactly how WICKED wanted him to think. It was a good thing him and his friends had escaped the maze, but now Minho had been kidnapped, and he needed Thomasâ help more than ever.
âTommy?â An accented voice pierced through the silence, and Thomas turned to see where it was coming from. Only one person called him that.
Newt was standing right by his bed, the red shabby privacy curtain pulled back. Thomas couldnât help but notice how tired he had been looking recently. Sure, they had all been through Hell, but Newt had gotten so thin, and his skin looked so pallidâŠ
âMind if I join you in here? I dunno how, but somehow Jorge acquired booze, and theyâre all absolutely hammered.â Newt laughed, and it was a lovely sound.Â
 Thomas smiled up at his friend, and nodded as he made room in his bed for him. This wasnât the first time they had shared a bed, but this time felt different somehow. Maybe because of how tiny the mattress was, or maybe it was really because Thomas had been having some more than friendly thoughts about Newt lately. He hadnât told anyone about it, and he hoped that the feelings would go away on their own, but here with Newt so close to him, these thoughts were stronger than ever.
 Newt sighed as he laid down and turned to face Thomas. âHow much longer do you reckon theyâll be out there for?â Newt asked.
Thomas couldnât explain it, but there was something in Newtâs voice that almost sounded lilting, like he was longing for something he wasnât sure he was going to get. Thomas took his time answering the question.
âIf theyâre drunk, theyâll probably be out there for awhile,â he responded finally. Newt looked pleased at this, and moved ever so slightly closer to his best friend. Thomas hoped Newt didnât notice the way his breath caught in his throat, or how he couldnât take his eyes off of his best friendâs features, as if he were studying them. He had always loved his brown eyes, but up close, in the moonlight pouring in from outside, he saw that they contained the tiniest bit of green. Newt seemed to notice him staring, and chuckled quietly.Â
âWhy the bloody hell are you looking at me like that? Canât be that ugly, can I?â He questioned playfully. Thomas felt himself blush, and averted his gaze. God, he loved Newtâs accent.
âYouâre beautiful,â he whispered, almost inaudibly. Newtâs expression changed almost immediately, brows furrowing together and mouth opening just slightly.
âDonât lie to me, Tommy,â he responded bitterly, all the joy that was in his voice just moments ago dissipating instantly.
âIâm not lying,â Thomas replied, finding Newtâs hand under the blankets. It was calloused, and bigger than his, but he rubbed his thumb over it in an attempt to console him. Newt looked so utterly vulnerable, eyes frantically searching the tiny room, probably hoping nobody knew they were in here.
âIâm mean, Iâm too skinny, and I have this horrid limp, whatâs beautiful about that?â He murmured, eyes filling with tears. Thomas wiped them away with his thumb before they could even reach his cheek.
âYouâre not mean, youâre stubborn. And I happen to like your limp and your skinniness. I think itâs cute.â
Newt laughed at this, and Thomas was glad he could bring a smile back to his face.
âYouâre too good for this world, Tommy,â Newt sighed, running his hand through Thomasâ dark hair. This intimate action caused Thomas to freeze, not knowing how to react.
âAnd for the record, I think youâre bloody cute, too,â Newt complimented, cheeks tinted pink.
Thomas couldnât take it any longer. He grabbed Newtâs face and pulled him in for a kiss. Newt gasped ever so slightly, and kept his grip firm on Thomasâ hair. He pressed their bodies together, intertwining their legs as he parted his lips. They were fast, knowing they could be caught at any minute, and Newt was anything but gentle, biting Thomasâ lip and tugging at his hair with anticipation.
 Soon enough, Thomas had the blond boy pinned down, their faces mere inches from each others. He leaned down and pressed gentle, needy kisses to Newtâs jaw, then his neck, then his chest. Newt sighed below him, keeping quiet just in case someone came back in from outside. Thomas took of Newtâs shirt and continued kissing down his chest, against his protruding rib cage. Newt practically ripped Thomasâ shirt off his back, pulling him in and kissing him needily.
 âFuck,â Thomas breathed out, hands on Newtâs slim waist as he kissed him. âWe should hurry- Donât want anyone to-â he panted between kisses.
 âMm-hm,â was all Newt managed to utter, sighing as Thomas pressed his body against his core. It didnât take them long to get completely naked, Newt on his back with Thomas above him.
âLet me know if I hurt you,â he stated, admiring the intoxicated look on the blondâs face. Newt just chuckled.
âTrust, me, Tommy, you couldnât hurt me even if you tried,â he reassured. Thomas smiled, and spat on his hand, stroking himself efficiently. Newt stared up at him with lust in his eyes, and Thomas couldnât pull his eyes away from his lips, his collarbones. He was a work of art, and now Thomas got to have him the way he always dreamed of.
 When he finally slipped in, Newt arched off the bed and gasped so loud, Thomas was scared they would get caught. He quickly put a hand over his loverâs mouth, stifling his pretty sounds. Newt rolled his eyes at that, and Thomas gave him a playful smile.
âDo you really want Frypan walking in here and seeing us like this. Or, God forbid, Jorge?â He whispered. That was enough to shut Newt up.
 Thomas began moving in and out slowly, reveling in the blissed-out expression on Newtâs face. He was doing his best to stay quiet, but the occasional moan slipped past his parted lips, and Thomas prayed that their friends outside were too drunk to notice what was going on just a few dozen feet away from them.Â
 When he found that spot deep inside his lover, Newt tossed his head against the pillow and let out a nearly inaudible gasp.
âMore, oh god, give it to me, Tommy,â Newt cried out, nails digging into Thomasâ back. Per his request, Thomas sped up, gasping as he neared his release. Newtâs legs began to tremble and Thomas could tell he was close as well. They continued to move until Newt wrapped his legs around his core, eyes rolling back as he whined.
âFuck, thatâs it,â he sighed, hands gripping Thomasâ hair. Thomas gasped as his climax hit him, burying his face in Newtâs neck as he rode it out.
 When they were done, Thomas thought Newt would leave, but he stayed right there beside him, pressed against him as they let the silence between them say everything they couldnât. Time went on, and Thomas assumed Newt had fallen asleep, until he spoke up.
âIâm really glad Jorge didnât walk in on us.â
