Warning: swearing and sexual themes! You've been warned
A/N: First it was supposed to be a one-shot, but it'd be way too long so...
"We do not suffer by accident" - Jane Austen; 'Pride and Prejudice'
She hates humidity and the grey sky before the rain, but she adores the falling drops of water tenderly kissing her delicate skin. Dewy petrichor intoxicates her senses, leaving her stunned of how this shattered world they live in keeps surprising her, remains breath-taking when she never expects it to be.
She leans on the wooden door-frame of her not-overly-big bungalow. She wonders if she would see him tonight with his now five-eighths of an inch long dark hair and whiskey eyes. Teresa wants to see him alone but is fully aware Brenda would be glued to his hip like she's been for the last four months. And she doesn't blame her. If she were in her shoes, she wouldn't even let Tom out of bed.
Shaking her head she tries to block an image of them together out of her head, but her brain betrays her. Or maybe she's just a masochist. She unfolds her hands and lets one of them point itself in front of her. Cold rain-drops land on her pale skin and quickly run down her forearm, making her shiver.
She's happy for Tom. She's even happier he forgave her. She's the happiest all of them miraculously survived and made it to the Safe Heaven. Yet, she feels almost empty. Sorrow fills her soul and leaves her heart aching. A single, hot tear falls down her cheek to her mouth and she can taste the salty liquid on her tongue.
She realizes she doesn't want to see him anymore or maybe doesn't want him to see her like this. There are days when she feels oddly alone in a place filled to the brim with people the exact same experience like her. She truly tried to connect with someone but failed miserably. During meals she usually sits with Newt, Minho, Fry, Gally, and Tom if he doesn't tag Brenda along – which rarely happens at this point – when he does she excuses herself and sits with girls and guys she's assigned to work with.
Michael – named after Michael Jackson a musician who as Teresa heard was one of the biggest revolutionists in his occupation (sadly she'll never have a chance to listen to even one tune of his) – is a guy from another WICKED base, another maze, the only survival from there. He's affable and kind, and definitely interested in Teresa. Too bad she's all over Tom whenever she can. There's also Penny, Amy, Drake, and Marcus. They're all great, but she often feels she doesn't belong with them. She's sloppy at her job – her thoughts are always with the brown-eyed boy – but no one ever complains. Amy and Penny try to gossip with her, but Teresa is just not the type. She likes to keep to herself, but sometimes just to keep them near or not to feel like a burden she'll talk about cute guys or bonfires. She'll play truth or dare or spin an empty bottle of some Gally's moonshine – which often helps her get her mind off stuff only to leave her miserable and hung-over the next day.
She walks inside, not even the smell of freshly watered ground can put the smallest smile on her face and locks the door behind her. She ignores the rings inviting everyone to dinner. She refuses to socialize with her grumpy mood and puffy eyes. From a small shelf, she takes one of her two books. They're lucky enough to have found some and even create a little library in the suburbs of the camp. She yearned - still does - to work there, but since they have around a hundred of books and quite some people willing to work here when four are definitely enough since their repertory is definitely limited and those were quickly taken. Every time she visits all of them are playing cards, sleeping or chatting. Not many people around the camp bother to even visit the library, so they don't mind her keeping a few books too long.
A knock on her door brings Teresa out of her thoughts. She doesn't answer immediately. First, she listens to the pouring rain hoping to get lost in the sound and smell again, but she doesn't want another knock to bring her back down, so she opens the door.
From a distance, she sees a damp mess of blond hair bounce as he limps away in the rain. Her gaze follows him even after he disappears out of her sight. On the ground, she notices a plate covered by another – her lunch. She'll never understand the Brit, certainly not because of his accent, but because of his actions. Though he was previously second-in-command, he refuses to take any kind of leadership in his hands now, yet he looks after everyone like a mum.
She raises the plates from the ground before too much water manages to sneak in between them. The stew is almost cold at this point, but she eats it anyway – she'd feel too selfish if she threw it away just like that, besides she loves Fry's food.
She feels too tired to carry the dishes back to the kitchen, yet too restless to fall asleep on a soft bed – she wonders if she could ever get used to it. She untangles herself from a blanket and goes straight to her bathroom, slowly stripping off her clothes on the way, leaving them a mess on a chilly floor.
She welcomes the hot water on her greedy body as her hands wander around sides. She cups her breasts and squeezes them tightly imagining Tom's huge, coarse palms. Her eyelids droop as she imagines him standing right behind her when she leans against a wall for support. She can almost hear his gruff voice as he purrs all the filthy words he can possibly think.
"Tom!" She gasps pinching her nipples hard. She imagines him smirking against the croak of her neck when her hips grind against the wall. Her body perspires under the steaming water, but she barely notices too lost in her fantasy. She rubs her thighs against each other as her juice sluggishly runs down her skin.
Her slender and warm palm leaves her hard nipple and travels down her abdomen. She imagines his infatuating fingers as she parts her folds and plays with her clit. She slides down the wall as her hand gives in. She can almost feel his wiry, sweaty body against hers. She moans his name, but the water swallows all the sound that leaves her mouth. She puts her foot on the opposite wall for support and her walls tighten around her fingers as she pumps them hard inside her. Her body begins to tremble lightly and with a vision of his bicep wrapped around her, she cums violently gasping his name over and over until she cold water brings her back to reality.
She manages to quickly clean herself up before going back to bed which now seems ironically welcoming. Darkness greets her soon, consuming all her worries as she wraps herself in a warm blanket and collapses onto a soft pillow.
Newt and Teresa never mention that afternoon, but she genuinely smiles to him as a thank you the next morning. She doesn't sit with him at the table, though, for he takes his usual place next to Tom who has his arm around Brenda as they small talk whilst the rest of the table laughs at something Minho says. She watches them with a corner of her eye pretending to be indulged in a conversation with her co-workers.
"Teresa," Marcus' orotund voice brings her back. "Are you coming to the bonfire tonight?"
"Everyone's coming, so why wouldn't I?"
"I dunno. You just seem off," he confessed, shrugging his shoulders and looking down at his plate. She gets a glance from Amy and Penny and she knows they'll bombard her with accusations or assumptions.
That's exactly what happens at the bonfire and she drowns them out with two jars of the moonshine. They eventually give up and decide to join the others and their silly game. Teresa gets away – thankfully unnoticed – to a covered with a green, slightly sharp grass with a view at the salty ocean. The smell and the quite strong wind don't bother at least not as much as Brenda and Tom together on the beach bellow. She knows she's looking like a total creep staring at them like this but she can't help it. Masochist. – Her brain whispers to her like a void.
"It's only gonna make it worse." She turns around to the well-known accent. He sits next to her letting his legs dangle as he sips the moonshine.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbles and receives a side glance like he was saying 'uh-huh'. She shakes her head dismissively and looks away hoping for Newt to leave her in peace.
"You should get over it, go play with us by the fire, and mix with somebody."
"Like you, you mean?" She gives him a well-knowing look. His grin – no matter how much he tries to bite it down – doesn't escape her observant glare. He licks his lips as he looks at her.
"Just because you're pretty doesn't mean you know everything, shuckette," he chuckles and takes yet another sip, "It's your choice, but it's been months. You'll have to get over him eventually." She knows he's right. She just can't imagine her not thinking about him twenty-four seven.
"Tommy's a slinthead for not seeing what he loses," he adds with an affable, small but not shy smile as he brushes a strand of hair out of her face. If they were friends, she'd consider it a kind, platonic gesture, but they're far from that. She knows Newt since she can remember but he's Thomas' friend, not hers. It's when it hit her he must have come to offer her comfort. She should have been disgusted but she leans in, and that's when Newt moves away leaving her stunned. "What are you doing?"
"C'mon Newt," she scoffs "We both know why you're here," her voice isn't husky like his, but she tries to sound at least endearing. He doesn't move away when her hot breath hits his lips, but he doesn't welcome the closure, either.
"I don't know what you mean, Tee." It's the longest conversation they've ever had – which isn't that long – and he already has a nickname for her. "I just want to help you."
"Help me, then." She brushes her tender lips against his chapped mouth faintly before his hand grabs her shoulder and pushes her back surely but carefully.
"It's not what I meant. I think it's stupid to act like a lovesick puppy when he's never gonna return your feelings. Now you should go to bed, definitely had too much of this." He motions at the moonshine and stands up, begins walking away shortly after, leaving her alone, cold, frustrated, and abased.
When next morning comes, Teresa is incredibly frustrated with herself and her previous actions, yet she's more frustrated with Thomas for making her feel the way he does, and Brenda for stealing him away, but Newt's the one she's the most frustrated at. How dare he come after her? Propose to comfort her only to back away, when she accepted and asked for a little more? She knew he wanted her just as much as she wanted him at that exact moment. She noticed a quick glance he took at her lips, and she saw him licking his lips before he turned away. She heard it in his husky voice as it echoed in the space between them.
She doesn't speak to anyone for the next few days overwhelmed with Newt's words that still run through her mind disturbing her. She focuses on her job, appears on time for meals and during breaks she reads, and no one dares to disturb her. She swallows books like Minho does his moonshine and she fears soon there will be none left. She doesn't mind reading some books a few times, but she's unsure she could leave without a new adventure to discover and it's coming to that.
"You should hook up with someone," Amy tells her after work when they get back to their dorms.
"Oh really?" she laughs it off, "With whom?" Teresa wouldn't mind getting her mind off of Tom – hurting over him is exhausting – that's why she came onto Newt, but they needn't know that.
"I'm sure Michael would be up to it."
"Oh no, don't mess with him unless you feel the same way he does," Penny chimes in. Teresa shakes her head at both of them.
"And that's not gonna happen," she mutters and she can feel both girls exchange a look, "I'll see you guys tomorrow," she bids them goodbye even though they try to get her to come over for a girls' night – Teresa is just not in the mood.
She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Tom in front of her house. He hasn't noticed her yet as he's facing her door knocking on it probably a second time now. She puts her palms on her hips with a content smile as she admires the view. He came to her without Brenda and she can't help a spark of hope ignite inside her.
"Oh, hi," he rubs the back of his neck nervously when he sees her.
"Hi," she answers beaming like a fool she knows she is, "What are you doing here?"
"It's been a while since we last talked. I wanted to see how you were doing."
"I'm great." Now, I definitely am. "Do you want to come in?"
"Maybe some other time, I have plans for tonight and I still need to finish my job," he stated with a sad, affable smile, "But I'm glad you're alright. I wasn't really sure… You like your new um crew?"
"Their sense of humor is nothing compared to Minho's, but other than that they're fine." She loves she still manages to make him laugh when the sound carries itself right to her ears.
"Good that. Well, see you around." She sees him off with her gaze and sighs when he's too far away to see. She hides in her home before anyone can notice her staring – she's glad she lives at the end of the camp and barely anyone comes.
Few weeks pass and Teresa feels her hope fade away slowly. Tom doesn't really come to visit her anymore. They catch up from time to time, but Brenda barely leaves his side. It's like she's glued to his hip and Teresa does everything not to rip her away.
Vince announces another bonfire, another useless celebration Teresa tries to avoid like a plague, but Amy and Penny order her to go.
"It might be good for you. Go, have a drink, dance a little, hook up with somebody," they suggest. Teresa has none of that, though the alcohol could make her lighten up a bit for a time being. "I bet Michael would be up to that" Amy chuckles and Teresa's eyes roll independently.
"Yeah, that won't happen. Let's make a deal… I'll go, but both of you will stop talking about Michael." She's glad she's never told them anything about Tom. She's well aware they would never let this go and press her to hook up even harder. Amy and Penny shared a look before they turned to face her again.
"Deal," they said in unison, "But you should still have some fun, mingle, and stuff… hook-ups are great ways to relax for a bit. All of us need that, there's no shame. And if you're scared, I heard every guy gets condoms from Vince just in case…" Penny added.
"Heard?" Teresa raised an eyebrow. Who is she kidding?
"More or less, but you get the point." She shrugged. "So…?"
"I'll come. Don't expect anything else," Teresa highlights the last part.
"It's your loss, girl."
Teresa comes just as she promised, but she barely speaks to anyone. Gally gives her a drink and she tries to find a familiar face, but the area seems suddenly too big and too dark to notice anyone. She finishes her drink abruptly and it gives her a slightly blurry view, but she ignores it and takes another one. She drinks it too quickly as well and wanders around the camp stumbling every now and then. Whatever Gally did to the recipe, made it twice as strong.
"Tee?" She turns to the familiar accent. Newt stands there with his brows furrowed and one hand on his hip. "You alright there?" She snickers, bringing her palm to suppress a hiccup. She manages to take another sip before he walks up to her and withdraws the glass gently from her. "Where's your hut?"
"Pff, nice try, Newton," she mocks and tries to bring the jar back to her mouth, yearning more – yearning oblivion – but Newt stops her once again.
"You're drunk," he states more to himself before taking the glass away from her, leaving it on the ground, "Where do you leave?" She scans him, looking for clues that might help her solve the big mystery that he is.
"In suburbs, five minutes from library," words roll off her tongue unwillingly. He carefully captures her wrist with one hand and with another placed on her back he guides her to her chambers. She almost falls three times but doesn't laugh after the second time. She feels uneasy with all the sorry looks Newt gives her, but she doesn't comment as her mind wonders to what Penny said earlier.
Hook-ups are great ways to relax for a bit. All of us need that, there's no shame.
She rethinks those words over and over as they wreck her mind slowly. She stares at Newt, his sandy-blond waves are a bit longer than when she first met him; his brown irises are much darker than Tom's but they're brightened by two thin gold circles around his pupil, his square jaw is perfectly shaved and she wonders how it'd feel under her sensitive uvula.
Whoa, calm down, you're no Penny and this is Newt you're thinking about!
He notices her staring, but so does she; his light grin that promptly disappears. But she saw and she – or rather her drunk self – won't let it go. They somehow make it and Newt kicks the door open with his foot and guides her to the bed.
Alright, that wasn't hot at all! – She tries to outsmart her mind, but she can feel herself growing hotter, and she knows it's not the alcohol. He helps her to the bed, lifts the blanket to lay her under it, and she falls on her butt.
"Alright, you should be fine now, shouldn't you?" He doesn't really await an answer as he takes his hands off of her and walks away.
Hook-ups are great ways to relax for a bit. All of us need that, there's no shame.
Oh, fuck it!
She stands up and walks after him, she supports herself on her desk and he turns around to see her leaning on it. She folds her arms and puts on the sliest smirk as she shamelessly checks him out. His mouth opens, but she interrupts him before any sound can leave his larynx.
"How about you come here and help me out?" She smirks, leaning onto a desk and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Teresa, what… what are you doing?" She suppresses a need to roll her eyes at his faked innocence. She walks toward him slowly, making sure to sway her hips seductively – their eyes never break contact. She stops when there's barely two inches separating their bodies and she can already feel his heat on her pale skin. She lets her hand wander up his stomach, and he doesn't stop her nor does he encourage her. Only when her hands fly to his belt he catches her wrists in his warm palms. "You're drunk," he shakes his head and she feels scolded like a toddler, "You won't even remember this tomorrow."
"I'm not that drunk," she argues.
"Yes, you are." With his hands on her arms, he pushed her away, putting few inches of space between them.
"Alright, I am drunk," she admitted, "but not drunk enough for you to feel guilty for taking advantage." First she leaned in again, but instead capturing his lips she felt a trail of hot, wet kisses on his jaw. Feeling him shiver under her sudden touch, she smirked against his skin, but Newt wasn't giving in.
"You'll regret it," he confronted her again, separating them one more time.
"Then I'll only have myself to blame," she moves toward him, but with his firm palms, he stops her.
"I'm not Tommy," he contradicts.
"I'm not blind!" She rolls her eyes as frustration gets the better of her. "Please, Newt, please." Her baby blue irises wander back and forth from his eyes to his lips. "Please," she murmurs, her hot breath collides with his complexion and she sees his eyes darkened like they are clouded by the battle that goes inside his mind.
She lets her eyelids falter when the back of his hand begins to caress her cheekbone. She waits for him to do something, anything; the wait being the biggest torture yet. And then he whispers,
"Tell me to stop," he almost begs, but she faintly shakes her head.
"No," Teresa mumbles. She wonders if he's right. What if she regrets it later? Yet she yearns closure and oblivion. Maybe girls are right maybe it will help her, maybe it'll put her mind at ease, maybe it will erase Tom from her mind for a while. "Newt we both want this, so-" He doesn't let her finish.
Newt collides their lips hungrily, greedily, needy and she allows it, welcomes it, embraces and encourages it. She fists the material of his shirt in her petite palms, pulling him as close as she only can. Her hands dance around his stomach to his hips and back, while her breasts crush against his chest.
She can feel goose bumps form on the back of her neck, whilst his tongue trails her bottom lip, and she opens her mouth as he tilts her face to devour her mouth. She moans into his him and they stumble back, her ass hits the side of the desk and he helps her sit on it, separating their lips for a few seconds.
"Tell me to stop," he mumbles against her neck, planting quick kisses as his mouth travels up to her ear. As a reply, she backs her hips against his. Breath hitches in her throat when he bits onto her earlobe and tugs it faintly. She wraps her legs around his hips desperate for his heat.
"Newt," she gasps when she feels his fingertips go under her shirt. As she doesn't stop him – even encourages him by raising her hands – he takes it off quickly and throws it aside. For a second she remembers her bra is not exactly exquisite, but Newt's already working to unclasp it, so she focuses on the feeling of him.
Fuck, Penny was right. – She thinks awaiting a release, and her bra is suddenly gone. She places both of her hands in his hair and tugs him toward her skin as he bits onto her collarbone. With his hands on her ribs, his thumb caresses over her tit.
"Bloody hell, you're beautiful," he confesses and her tensed muscles – she wasn't even aware of the action until now – relax.
"Please," she moans – for now, it's the only word she remembers - and he looks up to meet her gaze. His eyes are darker and it makes golden circles stand out even more; she licks her lips at the sight.
"Tell me what you want, Tee." He pecks flesh just above her left breast. She groans, disbelieving he would actually make her do this.
"I want your lips and your tongue," she whines struggling to put his mouth where she currently wants it. He complies and trails a path of wet kisses accompanied with short licks, putting a crimson blush on cleavage.
"Ah… Newt, please," she begs, aching for him to suck her tit. He leaves a hot breath on her already hard nipple before he looks up, fighting against her grip.
"I'm not gonna do anything you don't want me to," he mumbles with a wanton grin, letting her know he will have her begging. She needs a moment to collect her thoughts and think of a coherent request.
"You can have me any way you want me," she bites her lip again in triumph when he mutters curses against her skin. The abrupt bust of confidence surprises even her, making her smirk. Two can play the game.
"Oh, I will," he grins against her shoulder planting kisses there as his breaths come in pants, "And I'm gonna take my time with you." Torture doesn't seem so sweet anymore. "I'll take bloody good care of you."
"Please!" she whines. His faint kisses and a soft touch under both her boobs are too little for Teresa and she swears if he doesn't pick up his pace any time soon she'll kick him out and take care of herself. "I n-need your mouth on my breast," she practically screams her request at him, knowing exactly how desperate it makes her look. Not even a second passes before he complies. Her nails dig into his skull and his neck as her eyes roll back in pleasure as he sucks and licks over and over again. She feels bolt travel down to her core and she buckles her hips against his and she feels him harden underneath his khakis.
With a hand on her back, Newt steadies her and moves his attention to her other tit, repeating his previous actions. As his other hand paints circles on her covered with shorts hipbone. He grunts hearing her pant violently and he pulls away, leaving her desperately whining.
"Newt?" she exhales shakily as if she's asking he stopped all of the sudden. He captures her jaw and connects their mouths again, their noses bumping against one another as their tongues fight for dominance.
"I want to feel how wet you are," he groans against her lips. His hand wanders down between her legs and his thumb pushes against the denim that covers the place she needs him the most.
"Soaking," she encourages him quickly too caught up in her own pleasure to form a sentence.
"Should I check that?" He grins; his hand is already working on the button.
"Yeah," she cries out impatiently. She lets go of him, placing her hands on the wooden desk lifting her hips enough for him to drag the shorts down along with her panties. She's left completely naked, while he still has even his jacket on, but she forgets it all when he gets on his knees and with his hands squeezing her arse he brings her to the edge of the desk and he licks her folds slowly. His palms leave her butt and with one digging into her thigh and another helping his mouth slowly devour her.
He teases her entrance while he licks, nibbles and blows hot breaths at her clit. She chokes on her own moans when he lazily pushes his finger inside her. She places her hands on his shoulders, scratching his skin, whilst he thrusts another finger inside her and slowly begins to move them.
"Fuck! Faster," she orders.
When he abruptly increases his speed, she gasps his name, awaiting the luscious release he holds her from. He pulls away from her clit to murmur something against it and she barely registers the words, "Shuck, I can hear how wet you are."
"Mhm…" she mewls. He turns his attention back to her clit and sucks hard, his fingers scissoring inside her for a moment and then hit her G-spot. Her walls tighten around them and she shakes violently against him giving into the blinding pleasure as everything turns white and she screams his name, "There, ugh… Newt!"
When Teresa comes down from her orgasm, she finds herself in a warm embrace as Newt rocks her, lightly pecking the flushed flesh of her neck as he whispers sweet nothings.
Though she feels lightheaded the bulge in his pants is evident and Teresa feels a sudden need to wrap her hand around his thick shaft and pump it until he screams her name. Yet, before her hand can reach his pants he puts his palm over it with such tenderness it allures and confuses her at the same time. She can still feel his rough tongue on her clit, yet the look he gives her almost convinces her she must have made it up because he looks too angelic, too innocent, and too soft.
"You should sleep. We're starting work at dawn," he whispers with a soft smile gracing his manly features. She opens her mouth to contradict, but no words leave her mouth. Though her voice betrayed her, her eyes glance questioningly and somehow longingly – which she prays he doesn't notice – at his boner. "Oh, it's fine," he assures her, that damn smile never leaving his face and with his kind words she wishes she could go on her knees and make that mouth groan filthy words just as she was.
"But-" he shakes his head and squeezes her delicately, the touch is so faint once again she doubts she didn't imagine it.
"Seriously, Teresa, it's fine. Good night." He squeezes her hand one more time before he takes her to bed, tucks her under the blanket, and leaves. Her gaze follows him and even after he shuts the door behind himself she's still looking, trying to put the puzzles together to discover what makes Newt so… she can't find the right word to describe him and it frustrates her. She sighs in defeat and lays under the covers keeping her from investing the mystery that he is to her.