Thomas just came back from running the maze, exhausted more than he should have been. His body was coated with sweat, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his chest. He ran his hands through his drenched hair. He felt disgusting and in desperate need of a cleansing.
"Come on, Greenie!" Minho called, leisurely jogging past him. Thomas groaned, trailing him barely.
The day had brought intense heat that had radiated off of the concrete walls of the maze. He had felt as though he were frying like bacon on a skillet. He weakly pushed through the door nearly collapsing on the floor.
After quickly mapping out the maze, he was set on seeking out the stream that he knew ran through the woods.
Although it was rather near the Deadheads, he needed to get some of this sweat and dirt off of him.
He wandered aimlessly in the woods for a good twenty minutes, his jelly-like limbs dragging him along as fast as they could, before finally stumbling across the water. It was a small stream, that trickled through a diven in the earth, but it had just enough water in his opinion.
He parted the trees, freezing in his tracks, to see another person standing in front of the stream.
Newt stood at the water's edge, shirtless. The boy's skin glistened in the light beaming through the trees, highlighting all of his features on his lean body. His soft ab outline that decorated his stomach, his hip bones rolling right over the edge of his pants. His brown eyes met Thomas's and Thomas was overwhelmed with a strange warmness that spread from the center of his chest down to the edges of his fingertips and toes that left a tingly feeling as it went.
He was brought back to reality by Newt's velvety British accent mocking, "You done staring?"
Thomas averted his gaze quickly, pink tinting his cheeks and a knot forming in his stomach. What was wrong with him? Why was it every time he was around Newt he acted this way?
He heard Newt chuckle lowly and a shiver ran down his spine. He looked back up too see the boy flashing him a crooked grin "Slim it, Tommy, I'm just messing with you".
Thomas gave him a weak grin while he was internally screaming.
He shuffled over to the stream, standing beside Newt. Thomas stripped off his shirt, submerging it as much as he could. He turned it about in the water until it completely soaked.
"What brings you down here?" Thomas inquired.
The boy scoffed "Frypan spilled a huge glop of klunk on my buggin' shirt, so I came down here to wash it off."
Thomas hummed in response.
He raised his soaked shirt out of the water, holding it above his head and ringing it out. The water cascaded across the surface of his torso, taking with it the dirt and the sweat and the grime. The liquid was cold, causing goosebumps to prickle his skin. Thomas had never felt so clean, considering they didn't have a bath. He closed his eyes, letting the last bit of water run from the cotton makeshift shower.
"What about y-" Newt's voice abruptly cut off.
He peeked out from his eyelashes to see Newt looking at him. The boys wide brown eyes darted up and down Thomas's surface while he began to chew on his bottom lip. Again Thomas felt it, the tingly feeling that rustled him straight down to his core.
He took advantage of the situation "You done staring?" he teased.
He heard Newt gasp, "How dare you use my line against me you bloody shank!"
The boy hit Thomas with his shirt playfully, protesting "And I wasn't staring…"
Thomas gave Newt an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow in sarcastic question. Meanwhile the british boy crossed his arms, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes. Thomas was the first to break as he chuckled, and Newt began to laugh too.
He had never felt this kind of giggly bliss with someone before, sure he had shared a few laughs with Chuck, but anything amused him. This felt different, more genuine somehow, or more of something but Thomas couldn't put a finger on it. Once their laughter ceased, Thomas looked over at Newt again, a warm smile on his lips. Newt held a similar facial expression, a grin on his mouth.
A comfortable silence had fallen between the two as they looked into each other's eyes. There was a moment when Thomas could have swore his heart skipped a beat as those chocolate eyes melted into his own. It had felt like the world had slowed to a stop, just the two of them frozen in time. He felt the sudden urge to touch Newt, to feel the texture of that sandy blonde hair between his fingers, to close the distance between them, to—
The sound of Newt throwing his shirt down made Thomas jolt as the boy took his face into his hands, kissing him.
Thomas froze at the contact, he had never been kissed before, or at least not that he could remember. He was hit with a tidal wave of sensations all over his body, Newt's soft, thin lips melting into his own. Newt's calloused fingers held his face with a type of desperate fierceness, but at the same time possessed the quality of gentleness. But then they were gone, Newt pulling back from the kiss that didn't last as long as Thomas would have wished. Newt's eyes stared into his in shock.
He could see the fear in the boy's eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously; "Oh shuck, Tommy I-I'm sorry…" the blonde teen began to back away.
The way his name had rolled off of Newt's accented tongue sent a foreign shiver down his spine. Thomas blinked rapidly, still high off of the boys kiss. His emotions were all over the place, bouncing around inside his body. He craved more of Newt, his earthy smell and his gentle lips.
He now understood the feeling he had felt inside every time he saw the sandy blonde teen. It was the feeling of attraction. Ever since he arrived here in the Glade, he had noticed it, when he first laid eyes on Newt he noticed it. However he pushed it aside, confused by it, yet insisting it was nothing. But now he accepted it with open arms.
He stepped forward, allowing his own shirt to slip from his fingers, closing the distance that Newt created. He was nervous, but there was no turning back now. He squelched back his fear, embracing this new emotion surging through his veins. He delicately cupped Newt's chin in his hand, bringing their faces close together. Their noses brushed, chills caressed his skin as he heard Newt struggle to breathe. He wanted to savor this, every moment. He slowly pressed their lips together once more.
His eyelids fluttered closed as he melted into the kiss. He heard Newt take a sharp intake of breath through his nostrils, before humming softly. Newt's fingers traced Thomas's jawline so tenderly it made him shudder at the touch. His own hands lightly slid down Newt's back, outlining his shoulder blades and the sweet spot in between. His fingertips lightly brushed over the boy's rib cage, as if to count the bones protruding from his thin frame. His hand's then found Newt's hips, his thumbs tracing circles on them. This feeling surging through his veins was exhilarating as took in the boy's sweet scent and delectable taste. His heart pounded against his rib cage as his hands explored the boy's soft chest, Newt's kisses melting on his mouth. He never wanted this to end.
However he came to the realization that he had been holding his breath and he was now in desperate need for air. He pulled away, intaking a lungful of oxygen.
Thomas was coming off of his passionate intoxication as the world began to move in normal motion. Newt flashed him a crooked grin, pressing their foreheads together.
Thomas had never felt this kind of feeling before, from the moment he stepped out of the box all he knew was fear and confusion, to survive on his instincts. But being here with Newt, he felt a new feeling. A bubbly feeling that caused his heart rate to go off the charts over just the boy's look alone, butterfly wings to beat against his stomach lining any time he saw that gorgeous smile. He had never felt an overwhelming urge to be with someone until he met Newt.
And he couldn't be happier to know that the feeling was mutual.
