Author: Athena2693

Title: Forced Insomnia

Summary: Thomas wasn't the only one who had trouble sleeping after deciding not to go through the swipe.

A/N: Didn't the description of the room say they only had two beds? Either they shared or somebody had the floor...

"Minho."

He ignored the voice, burrowing deeper into his warm, plush pillow, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"Minho," the voice repeated, insistently.

He let out a deep sigh. There was no way that voice, with that lilting accent, could be anybody else.

"What?"

"Can I sleep with you"

A pause.

"Newt, Thomas is here."

"He won't wake up. He's out."

"This isn't the Scorch, Newt. We can't do that anymore."

"I just want to be next to you."

Another long pause.

"Alright, you shank, get in."

The blond didn't need anymore prompting than that. He scrambled over Minho, all sharp knees and elbows and lanky limbs. A knee drove into the soft skin of Minho's stomach, forcing the breath from him. Newt squirmed and wiggled his way into the position he wanted, finally worming his way into a spooning position in Minho's arms. He pressed back so his back was against Minho's chest, his butt against his crotch. Minho wrapped an arm around the other boy, pulling him closer against him, and he finally stilled.

Newt let out a long deep breath and seemed to deflate in Minho's arms

"Better," Minho asked the fine soft hair at the base of Newt's head.

"Mmm," he agreed sleepily.

They both went quiet, breathing evenly and still for awhile. The warmth between them building until they had a cozy little nest. Minho tried to will his mind to sleep but had trouble shutting off all the worries in his head now that he was awake. He flexed the fingers of the hand resting against Newt's stomach, clenching and uncleching his fingers. He forced himself to stop, afraid he was keeping Newt awake, and curled his fingers around the soft curve of the other boy's belly.

He wasn't going to deny he missed this. Between leaving the dorm and making it to the berg, he and Newt had taken to bedding down together. It had been Newt who initiated it, coming to Minho, his oldest living friend, in tears in the middle of the night. He was not used to sleeping alone. He had been used to Alby being with him, all night, every night, for nearly two years. While the grievers roamed the maze, sometimes mere feet from where they lay sleeping, he had always been safe, curled up in Alby's protective arms. Newt was in no way a weakling. He had been a runner, and while he no longer had the muscular, competent stride of one, he had the upper strength of any other boy in the Glade, if not more sk than most. But something about the dark, the worrying haze of night, brought a silent fear to him. He did not like to be alone during it.

"Newt?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you really not afraid of dying?"

Without a pause, "I'm afraid of becoming a crank, of losing my mind. But not death. Alby is waiting for me."

Alby. Minho knew, even if they both survived this, if Newt was cured, there'd never be any real hope for what the two possessed. Newt would never feel that way for him. The hole Alby's death had left in Newt's heart was too big for Minho to fill. Maybe, if Alby hadn't died, if Alby's changing had caused him to push Newt away but he had still lived, there might have been a chance. If Newt could've seen Alby move on, find another lover, find happiness without Newt. But that was not possible now. Alby was a martyr to their love and would always be the ever-young, ever-strong, mythical hero in his eyes.

"Minho," Newt moaned from atop him. Minho was gripping the blond's slim hips, holding him still despite Newt's obvious desperation for more friction. He wasn't ready yet. If Newt moved, if he clenched around Minho's cock, anything, and Minho would come. He had waited too long for this, he wasn't willing for it to end this quickly.

"Just stay still," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Don't move."

"But I'm ready," the other boy whined prettily.

"Well I'm not."

Newt let out another cute little whine so Minho grabbed for him behind his neck, pulling him down for a deep kiss which Newt gave quickly and generously. Despite the fact they were both greasy and filthy and covered in days worth of sweat, this was the hottest moment in Minho's life, as far as he remembered.

"Okay, go ahead and move," Minho finally gave his okay, releasing the boy. "Get back up there and ride me."

Newt didn't need anymore permission than that.

Minho woke up with an aching erection pressed against a warm, hard back. A dream. A memory, rather, of only a few weeks passed.

Shucking wet dream, wasn't he too old for those?

It was still dark inside the room. He shifted a bit, trying to pull back to release some of the pressure against his cock. Newt moved with him, pressed his tight little rear end right against the bulge in Minho's undies.

"You're doing that on purpose," Minho moaned in complaint.

"Doing what," Newt breathed, fake innocence.

Minho slid the hand that rested against Newt's stomach downwards, feeling an identical bulge to his own there. He curled his fingers around it, gave a small squeeze. Newt made an adorable little whine.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Ever since I woke up and you were humping me in your sleep."

"Your shucking fault for getting in bed with me."

"You're the one who was attempting to rape me in my sleep."

"I was asleep too you shuckhead."

"Yeah, well..." Newt trailed off and just concentrated on somehow both grinding his backside against Minho while simultaneously rubbing his own hard on against Minho's grip. This was rather contradictory as that required squirming in two different directions. He was obviously frustrated by the two dueling needs and kept whining pathetically in the back of his throat. Minho chuckled lowly and pressed a few gentle kisses to the nape of Newt's neck.

"Were you this easy with Alby?"

"Easier," Newt gasped, no shame in his voice. "I was in love with that shank."

The comment stung a bit. Obviously Newt was implying that meant he was most certainly not in love with Minho. Still, he shook off the comment and reached down between the two of them, first tugging his own undies down far enough so his own leaking erection popped free, and then doing the same for Newt. Despite the romps they'd already enjoyed together, he still didn't know Newt's body as well as his own and it took a bit of tugging and maneuvering to get Newt out of his undies. He stopped once he got them down to the boy's thighs, not needing anymore than what was now exposed to him. Over his shoulder he could barely catch the sight of the hard pink erection nestled in the golden nest of curls. He smirked a bit to see him hard already.

Newt lay still in Minho's arms, letting the other boy take charge. By nature, Newt was a bit of a leader, but as with Alby, he naturally submitted to Minho. He never fought for dominance, just took it if it presented itself. A passive role was fine for him though, he wished he could take that route more often. He always seemed to be getting pushed into leadership roles as of late.

Minho spit twice into his own hand. The first time he reached down and rubbed it on his own dick, the second time he reached for Newt's. Newt's entire body shook when he felt the hot, slick, tight grip on his hard cock. He barely noticed what Minho was doing, that he was poking his own damp penis against Newt's rear end while his free hand gently parted his pale cheeks. The sleek cock slid in between the barely separated cheeks, the friction rough and obvious.

"Minho, don't!" There was no way a handful of saliva would be enough for penetration.

"Shh," Minho soothed, kissing Newt's broad shoulder lovingly. "I'm not going to put it in. Just let me rub it against you, okay?"

"Alright," Newt responded uncertainly.

"That's a good shank."

Minho gave Newt a couple tight squeezes on his cock in appreciation and then loosened his grip a bit before beginning to move it up and down along the boy's length. Newt let his body relax, stopped clenching his buttocks against the intrusion, and went along with it. Minho buried his head against the space between Newt's shoulder blades, enjoying the warmth and how the other boy's scent had gathered strongly there, sandwiched between the two of them throughout the night. Different than in the Scorch. He smelled clean and a bit like soap and detergent but his own personal scent was still there, still as appealing as ever.

Though Newt had been protesting the hard dick pressing against his entrance a moment ago, he obviously still enjoyed feeling the nudge against him because the darker boy could feel his cock getting harder and tighter in his grip. The precum was flowing generously and every so often he brought his hand all the way up to brush over the tip, smearing it back down over the drying saliva. His tip must've been extra sensitive because whenever he did that Newt jumped a bit in his arms and took a harsher breath.

Minho desperately wanted to just shove his dick into the other boy. Desperately. There was no knowing if he'd ever have a chance to be with him like this again, not if things didn't go right tomorrow. Still, he restrained himself, made sure to keep himself in check. He didn't want to hurt him. Every few thrusts he'd feel just the very, very tip of his penis just slightly jab into Newt's hole, not enough to enter him but enough to open him. It wasn't enough, not for Minho, but it appeared to be for Newt. He groaned appreciatively each time and ground back harder to encourage a repeat.

It was so shucking hot.

"You're such a little whore," Minho moaned in appreciation as he thrust again and again against him, rutting closer to his own completion, "I should've started doing this two years ago."

"I don't think Alby would've been up for sharing," Newt responded breathlessly, so close he could barely move, the sensations in his body freezing him.

"Shuck Alby," Minho responded fiercely, right before he dug his teeth into Newt's perfect pale shoulder. He tasted like the sweat which now soaked them both. It was a predatory move, an alpha claiming its mate. The pain was just enough to drive Newt over the edge. He came all over Minho's hand, letting out a painful sounding keen as the white sticky liquid poured between Minho's fingers.

A couple more hard, rough thrusts and Minho was coming too with a low grunt, his own juice releasing into Newt's crack, something Minho was sure he'd get complaints about later when the other boy needed to clean himself up. It felt like he was coming forever, but it must've been five seconds tops, in three individual squirts. The third squirt landed on Newt's lower back, unlike the first two, and Minho looked at it for a moment, admiring how nice his own cum looked on the other boy's skin.

But Newt, satisfied, was already starting to fall asleep again. Minho slid his own undies the rest of the way off, wiped off Newt's back and his own hand with them before tossing them to the foot of the bed, and then cuddled back up to the other boy. He felt good now. Relaxed and happy and willing to take on tomorrow.

"Goodnight Minho," a barely conscious Newt mumbled.

"Goodnight Newt," Minho whispered back, "I...I love you."

"Love you too," Newt mumbled back. Minho knew he didn't mean in the same way but he appreciated the response all the same. He nuzzled his face back into that space between Newt's shoulder blades and took, another deep, happy, sleepy sigh, and closed his eyes.

"I love both of you two shanks too," a voice from the other bunk bit out angrily, "But you've already probably shucked up my last peaceful night of sleep in who knows how buggin' long, go to shucking sleep!"

"...sorry Tommy."