Author: Athena2693

Title: Goldilocks

Summary: Alby/Newt smut. That's basically it.

A/N: My god I write nothing in years, read one book, and suddenly can't stop cranking out jailbait porn

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When they first came to in the Glade, many of the boys had been quite different than they later came to be. The struggle of daily life had changed them, aged them prematurely. Boys who were thirteen when they arrived had the responsible personalities of a thirty year old within a year. Boys who had been chubby, fat, or borderline obese slimmed out, like Frypan, who, while still showing an obvious obsession with food, learned to control that obsession rather than give in to it. Other boys, scrawny weaklings like Minho and Newt, filled out, developed well-honed muscles, became physical powerhouses. The meek became hardened killers, like Winston, and the friendly became morose, like Gally. Then there were ones like Zart and Alby who came in with old souls and hardened bodies and besides aging a bit physically, stayed about the same.

One of the earliest, most observable differences, was hair. Hair grew quickly. Most of the boys quickly learned to hack it off with a knife or some other handy piece of equipment as it grew. Nobody knew when their last real haircut had been but needless to say none of them were professional barbers and the most common hair styles included "shaggy", "patchy", and "nearly bald." Some of the boys, on the cusp of adolscence, were instructed by the older boys in the ancient art of shaving. Some of them just trimmed, preferring the eternal five o'clock shadow to the cuts a dull blame promised.

The only boy to let his hair grow out was Newt. When he had first awaken his hair had been closely cut to his scalp, barely a centimeter in length at its longest. He let it grow, having more pressing matters for the time being than looking well groomed. Alby, cursed with short, kinky hair, kept his close to his scalp, but complimented Newt early on with how the blond shaggy mop looked on him. Told him it made him look less anal, more approachable. Newt liked that idea. Being approachable. But that wasn't why he let it keep growing. He liked how the golden locks brushed his shoulders when he was shirtless, silky and soft against the sensitive, rarely exposed skin. But that wasn't why he let it grow either. No, there were precisely two reasons Newt refused to cut his hair. 1. He liked having it pulled and 2. Alby liked pulling it.

Coming upon this discovery had been both exhilarating and utterly humiliting. Newt guessed he was about 14 or 15 when his current reality first started, and it was only a few months later he and Alby became an item. To anybody there from the beginning it had been inevitable that those two would eventually be knocking proverbial boots. The way Alby stared at Newt when the blond wasn't looking, the way he swallowed and got that glazed look in his eyes, licking his lips when Newt's lean, strong arms flexed or when he bent over for one reason or another. The way Newt stared back at the larger boy, utter hero worship apparent in his eyes, willing to die for him if needed.

Yes, it was a surprise to absolutely nobody that first morning when Newt showed up early for breakfast, a goofy grin on his face and love bruises on his collar. The evening before there had been a fight between Alby and Newt that had quickly escalated before the Gladers before Newt had stormed off to the Homestead with Alby on his heels. The rest of the Gladers were glad to finally have that issue resolved.

"The sexual tension between you shanks was more obvious than these shucking walls," Minho told him that same morning as they headed into the maze for the day. "Took you long enough. I lost the bet, you slinthead, you were supposed to be hooking up weeks ago."

Nice to know the others had been taking bets on Newt's sex life. At the time though he was too ecstatic to care. Too caught up in the euphoria of young love to want to do anything but hurry up and get through the maze so he could rush back into his lover's waiting arms.

His hair had still been pretty short then. Longer than when he first arrived, yes, but still only maybe an inch and a half, two inches tops. Long enough that Alby could run his fingers lovingly through the sweaty mess afterwards, when Newt was resting his cheek against the other boy's hard, warm chest. He'd kiss his cheek, or his forehead, or his nose, lovingly, sweetly, and tell him how beautiful he was. How soft his skin was. How silky his hair felt sliding like water between his fingers. Newt would be too exhausted to respond, having been up since dawn, constantly busy eating or running or mapping or making love. His eyes closed, he'd just mumble incoherently until he dozed off, leaving a puddle of drool on Alby's chest.

The first time Newt realized it was growing so long was the first time Alby pulled it. It had been an accident the first time. They were already finished and Alby was well into his normal after glow ritual. That day Newt was resting his head on Alby's shoulder, rather than his chest, pressed against the boy's side rather than sprawled across his broad chest. He was in perfect position to receive kisses on the whispy tendrils of his temples and Alby gave them freely, murmuring repeatedly how much he adored and loved him. He peppered his temple and the side of his pale forehead and the smooth curve of his cheek with worhshipping kisses, running his large, blunt fingers through Newt's tangled locks all the while. Suddenly his fingers caught in a snarl, pulling none too gently at the roots. Newt grunted, his face twitching, but didn't open his eyes.

"Sorry," Alby apologized softly. "Your hair is getting long. If you're going to continue to grow it out you should probably ask the creators for a brush...and maybe some conditioner so it won't get knotted."

"Don't worry about it," Newt smiled sleepily, "Felt good."

That got Alby's mind going.

Newt didn't ask for a brush but Alby did and it arrived promptly. Alby had no doubt the creators had been watching them that night. He felt absolutely sure the perverts always watched his and Newt's not-so-alone time, but he didn't honestly give a klunk. His suspicions that their illicit activities were being closely monitored had been confirmed one day when they had forgot to request another container of lube when they ran out and it just appeared without request. With how stingy they were in giving them some things, products of a sexual nature -lubricant, condoms, girly pictures - were never denied. They had denied scissors and razors in the past. He wondered if they suspected the hairbrush had more sexual implications than hygienic.

He surprised Newt with the brush. It was a heavy old fashioned one, shiny and silver, made of some sort of durable metal that would last a long time. Alby sat down in a chair with Newt between his legs and brushed his hair for him until it shone like liquid gold. Newt positively purred at the attention, immensely enjoying the feeling of the scratchy bristles against his sensitive scalp. He made little "mmm" noises at regular intervals and appeared to be falling asleep at Alby's feet. As if purring wasn't enough, afterwards he stretched out bonelessly on the bed like the laziest cat in existence and allowed Alby to play with him as he wished.

He had Newt up on his knees, the blond's face buried in a sweat dampened pillow and his own cock buried equally as deep in the boy's ass, when Alby carefully, slowly as to not catch Newt's attention, threaded his fingers through the silken locks. He rubbed his fingers over the pale scalp for a few moments, scratching him gently, and then he tightened his fingers into a fist and pulled, just a little, and quickly let go again. Newt groaned softly. He pulled again, harder.

"Mmmmm," Newt left out a high pitched whimper of pleasure.

Alby smirked. He pressed his left hand, the one that had been loosely tugging at Newt's weeping cock and not clutching Newt's hair into a knot, against the back of Newt's neck to keep him from moving and pulled again, this time keeping the grip tight so the roots strained against his scalp. At the same time he thrust his own hips lazily, driving his dick deep inside the blond. The runner made a desperate sobbing noise. He moved his own right hand between his legs and started jerking himself off. Alby lessened his grip but didn't release him entirely

"How's that feel," Alby asked, still fucking Newt with lazy thrusts. He pulled out slowly and then thrust in, as deep as he could, with one quick movement. Repeated the action once, twice, three times. Each time he dove in to the hilt Newt grunted loudly, his body being shoved foward, his face smashing into the pillow.

"So good," Newt managed breathlessly.

"How good," Alby pestered. Thrust, thrust, thrust. Each movement slower and slower. He enjoyed the sight of Newt squirming beneath him, slim waisted but muscular shoulders and arms. A ripe adolescent perfect for picking. He loved that this perfect specimen of boyhood was his to do with as he wished. Loved how pale and vulnerable the skin of his back, which rarely saw the sun, looked in contrast to the rough, dark skin of his own hand.

"Really shucking good," Newt bit out, frustration in his voice. "Please, just get on with it."

"I'm not sure what you mean,"Alby teased, arrogant smirk firmly planted on his face. "Get on with what?"

"Fuck me, please, just fuck me."

"I am," Alby pointed out.

"Harder. Please, fuck me harder, I'm so close."

"Well, since you asked nicely."

Alby released the hand that had been holding the smaller boy down and brought it around his waist, pulling him close and keeping him in place as he began fucking the boy in earnest. He drove into him quickly and forcefully, the slapping of skin on skin loud and obvious if anybody nearby was listening. Every so often he tugged at Newt's hair, not gently but not too hard either, and only for a second or two each time. Newt's breath became more and more ragged as he got closer go his completion. His own hand between his legs was just a blur as he jerked himself furiously, desperate for release. As he felt Newt clench around him, the signal Alby knew well by now, he pulled the boy back by his hair so roughly that it lifted him clear off the bed, his spine bending backwards in an arch. Newt actually screamed as he came all over the sheets.

He collapsed, satisfied, into a boneless heap. Alby fucked him roughly for about another minute, flat against the bed, before he released as well, Newt's ass taking it all. He collapsed on top of the smaller boy, thoroughly exhausted, and besides a grunt as the air was forced out of him Newt didn't protest. Alby lay there for a few minutes, just breathing heavily. His penis deflated on its own accord, pulling itself from Newt's opening.

"Love you so much," the darker boy whispered, kissing the damp blond hair.

"Love you too," Newt responded, sounding more thoroughly satisfied than Alby had ever heard him sound. A warm feeling of accomplishment burned in his chest.

Alby finally climbed off the boy, moved to make himself comfortable against the pillows. Newt adjusted himself, turning to rest his head against Alby's still gleaming chest. Cum oozed from him, creating a wet spot one of them would be stuck sleeping in tonight.

The blond head burrowed into the hard muscles of the chest, sighed sleepily, stared across the room sleepily at nothing. Or at least, he seemed to be staring at nothing. The silver hairbrush sat in the windowsill where Alby had left it.

"You know," Newt ventured cautiously after a couple minutes of comfortable silence, "I bet the flat side of that brush would make a great paddle."