Her hair hangs loosely over her shoulders as she sits on the bed. She feels his burning, starved eyes on the naked skin of her back. A devious smile creeps onto her lips, but she feels like giggling.
"You're staring," hi she whispers loud enough for him to hear.
"I'm gazing." His voice is dreamy, and she imagines lying him on his side with a hand under his cheek, a soft smile gracing his features. She snickers and turns her head to look at him.
"It's time to go." She knows he knows. Others don't know, and it should stay this way - at least for a little longer. Because it's thrilling to mess around under everyone's noses, and fooling them every time. There's something exciting about him holding her hand or gripping her knee under the table. It's overwhelming when he slips his hand underneath her skirt and teases her or when they have to keep quiet as he takes her next door.
"I know you don't want to," he mumbles into the pillow. She finds him as she knew she would - a blond mess of hair, sleepy blue eyes, stretched arm, and half of a naked, hard chest that makes her want to climb on top of him.
"You're only saying that 'cause you don't want to." They can keep going like this for long, and they don't exactly have time for that now.
"Just come back here. You'll save us both time." He reaches out for her with his hand, and the sheets fall down reviling more and more of skin. But they really do have to go. And she really doesn't want to. She wants him. She wants him in any way he wants her. He has her wrapped around his long finger. Or at least that's what she thinks because she doesn't know how much he is addicted to her. It's not only her body that he can't get enough of - he would last, though not too long, without that, without sex - it's her smile and how it reaches her sea-like eyes. It's how her laughter echoes in his heart even after she leaves. It's the smile he can't wipe off his face every time he thinks of her. It's her wit, knowledge of poetry and books he can't get enough of. It's the smell of her flesh that he smells on his pillow when he falls asleep.
"Darling, let's stay in tonight." he pleads, and even though she cannot read his eyes, she understands. So she climbs under the sheets and lets his arms spoon her.
They never confess their love for each other, but the way he holds her close to him, the way he kisses her spine and tenderly runs his hands all over her body is enough.
She bucks her hips when she feels him harden behind her. Since they aren't going to the bonfire they can as well start spending their night fruitfully.
Soon his touch becomes rougher, his kisses hard, her bucks faster, and moans louder.
They have sex in many ways. Sometimes he makes love to her - slow and tender - other times he fucks her - rough, hard, with animalistic passion.
"Take me," she groans, her voice muffled by the pillow. And he understands.
His fingers immediately find their way between her folds and they're ruthless in their movements from the beginning. His other hand travels from her waist to her breast, and he squeezes it hard enough for her to arch her back. Her ass meets his erection, and Newt groans at the contact.
He wants to keep teasing her like this, keep hearing her moan his name as he takes his time with her, but his dick is too hard and he worries he wouldn't last.
"Newt," Teresa whimpers, "Please." She wriggles against his chest. Newt takes his hand away from her clit, and moves it to her ass. She groans, complaining at the loss, but he doesn't let her wait for long. He pushes her flat on her stomach.
Sheets fall down as he positions himself above her and waits for Teresa to raise her arse. And when she does he wastes no time to enter her.
Newt doesn't give her time to adjust; instead he pounds into her relentlessly. He knows that what she wants, she kind of told him to – and they developed a language between them that only they understand. She moves her hips as violently and needy as he.
The echo of their moans, groans, grunts, slap of their sweaty skin spreads around the hut. From afar, comes the barely audible sound of music and cheers. They don't care, the party might have as well been going on right there and they wouldn't have noticed.
Newt bends forward to kiss the crook of Teresa's neck. One palm of his leaves her hip to grip her shoulder.
"Harder," she pants. Oh, he does. His movements become more rigid, and he grunts into her ear as he pushes her farther into the pillow.
"You're such a good girl for me." He knows how she loves to be praised, how it get her all wired up. "So bloody good." He bites her earlobe.
"Newt," she whimpers, and the sound reminds him of soft humming of birds in the morning.
He lifts his weight of her back, rising again. On his way he grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks. Her head bends, showing off the mark he left off her neck. Sudden warmth spreads through his chest, because Teresa is his and he is hers.
God, he wants to slap her or let his fingers toy with her clit, but he would need another hand for that. Soon, it uncovers there's no need for such thing for she comes violently, her walls tightening around him mercilessly. His orgasm follows hers and it's intensity almost has him black out.
"Still want to go out?" He asks after he partly takes control over his breathe. He expects her to pout or complain, but she giggles into the pillow. The sound paints a soft, admiring smile on his lips.
"I would if I could walk."
He leaves her slowly, and cold air hits his cock, making him miss her warmth. He lies next to her as she slowly moves onto her back. She has a content, lazy smile on her lips. He puts his arm around her waist to keep her warm.
"We should go, though," she mumbles, her greenish eyes already closed.
"We'll make up an excuse. They don't miss us that much anyway," he whispers as he brings her closer.
Months back he'd never even think of her in any way, and now he had her begging for more, screaming his name like a prayer, so obedient, hot and willing. And even thought it seemed he had her wrapped around his finger – and other, harder part of his body – it was Teresa who really had control over him.
They fall asleep like this not carrying what tomorrow brings. They worried about it since they could remember, and since WCKD and the world fell they just… stopped. Not immediately, of course, but with time they helped each other take reins and take the control – stolen from them so long ago – back. It's far from perfect, kept a secret from all their friends – everyone around really. Yet, for now it's enough.
One day, when the time is right he will tell Teresa how he feels and then he will tell Tommy and the rest, but for now he'll just sleep, holding her close as if Wicked were to take her away.