Thomas's head ached. And although he wanted desperately to sit down and close his eyes, he kept running. His footsteps now matched up perfectly to the throbs that stabbed at his temples and he tried his best to ignore it, deciding to focus instead on Minho's figure that was just a few feet ahead, leading the way through the maze. He had a nice figure, though, Thomas couldn't deny that. His neck was long, shoulders broad, middle toned, an ass too perfect, and strong legs. It made for a nice distraction.
Minho slowed then, and so did Thomas, mirroring his leader who stopped and took a seat against part of the maze wall where the grassy green vines had yet to take over.
Thomas was relieved. He'd been running for so long that his legs felt stingingly numb. The sudden change in motion was almost painful and he felt a burning sensation wash over his body. He cringed then focused on returning his breathing to normal.
Minho must've been doing the same. Thomas heard the sound of his breathing, a slightly shaky inhale with a long and slow exhale, which was probably much more effective than his own heavy gasps for air.
"Keep sucking in air like that and you'll make your throat raw, 'ya shuck face." Minho said.
Thomas was surprised at how quickly he'd composed his breaths. He sounded like he hadn't even been running at all. But then again, running every day for nearly two years proved that to be a valid reason.
He closed his eyes and tried Minho's tactic, which after a moment he'd found really did work.
"Then again," Minho continued, "do it. Maybe then you'll talk less." He added a snicker and a quick grin.
Thomas rolled his eyes and slipped his bag off of his shoulders, unzipping it and reaching inside for a bottled water.
"Havin' fun?" Minho's voice sounded again. At least it minimized the pounding in Thomas's ears and distracted him from the ache.
"Loads," he replied sarcastically just as he placed the bottle on his lips.
Minho went for his own water now. "Yeah, well get used to it real quick. Life of a Runner doesn't get much more fun than this."
Thomas wondered then if he'd made the wrong choice when he'd told Newt that this is what he wanted, but after remembering his other options like being a Bagger, which even the thought of chilled him to the bone, or working in the Blood House, which had definitely scarred him for life, he thought being a Runner was the best fit for him. Bedsides, even though it was tough and not very exciting all the time, it was the only thing he could ever think to do in the whole place that felt right.
"I'm pretty quick to adjust," Thomas said in reply.
Minho huffed. "That's right. I forgot how perfect you are."
Thomas didn't answer. He knew there were those whom liked him and those whom didn't. Those that did like him defended him and even considered him to be somewhat of a hero, and unfortunately that caused him some problems, which is why he preferred to ignore the big debate over whether he's to be trusted or not.
What seemed like a long moment of silence passed. Thomas continued to sip small amounts of his water and toy with the cap, while Minho had begun to chew at an apple.
Minho was first to break the silence. "So, the new girl. Do 'ya know her?"
Thomas believed he knew her although he wasn't sure how he could. He sensed something familiar about her, but to protect himself, he simply said otherwise. "No, I don't."
Minho nodded his head once, and after a short pause he said, "do you like her?"
The question surprised him. He couldn't deny that he was intrigued by her, as most of the Glader boys were, but even as the other boys made remarks and sexual innuendos, he didn't see her that way. He saw her just as that familiar memory in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite piece together. He shook his head. "Nope. You?"
"Nah," Minho said quietly.
Thomas cleared his throat. "It's too bad that this place is running short on the ladies."
Minho huffed a laugh. "You're telling me. Sometimes I get to feeling so desperate that I'd settle for one of these shanks."
"At least we've got some decent looking ones. Can't deny that." Thomas replied. He'd be a liar if he'd said he wasn't attracted to Minho.
"I can name a few." The black haired boy said, tossing a side smirk to Thomas.
The look from Minho made his heart jump and skin grow warm. He thought for a brief moment that maybe Minho felt the same way about him. "Name 'em."
"No way, man. You name yours first." Minho crossed his arms.
"I asked first!" Thomas grinned.
"Who cares? Either you name me the most attractive Glader or the conversation will be dropped." Minho stood then and tossed his bag back onto his shoulder. "What'll it be, Thomas?"
The way Minho had slurred his name off of his lips caused an aroused churn in Thomas's stomach. One almost too strong to ignore. Almost. "What if we say it at the same time?" He bargained.
"Nope." Minho turned. "Come on, break is over." He begun to walk away.
Thomas jumped up and grabbed his bag then turned to follow his leader. "Oh come on, you won't even meet me halfway on this?"
Minho didn't answer and kept walking forward.
"It's Alby, isn't it? Newt? It's gotta be Newt. I see the way you look at him." Thomas saw Minho shaking his head, probably laughing to himself and rolling his eyes. "Oh no, don't tell me it's Gally. Please not Gally."
Minho spun around. "Slim it, Thomas! It's you!"
Before Thomas had any time to react, he felt Minho's hand on the back of his neck and his soft lips against his own. Minho pulled away and Thomas stared dumbfounded.
"Wha-"
"I said slim it." Minho said sternly and turned around to run down the long maze corridor.
"Minho!" Thomas yelled, forcing himself to move forward to catch up to his friend.
Minho was a few paces ahead of Thomas, running without stop. Thomas called his name out again and reached for his shoulder, gripping it and pulling it to turn the other boy around. The forced turn threw Minho off balance and he fell face first onto Thomas, knocking them both to the ground.
Now that Minho's body was atop his own, Thomas took his chance. He placed one hand on Minho's lower back and another in his hair, pulling their faces together.
Thomas smiled when Minho didn't fight back, when he welcomed his lips. "Tell me again." Thomas exhaled into his mouth.
Minho sat up to balance himself, straddling Thomas's hips. "Tell you what?"
Thomas squirmed under Minho's hips, a small moan escaping his lips due to his pained erection that was now being sat on. "Tell me who's the most attractive."
Minho lowered his head and placed his hands on Thomas's chest.
Thomas shivered when Minho's lips brushed his earlobe, his warm breath wrapping itself along his neck, and he grinned when he heard him whisper, "it's you."
With that Thomas felt Minho's lips peck at his jawline, slowly making a trail down the length of his neck to his protruding collar bone. Thomas pulled Minho's head closer, signaling that he wanted more. The older boy got the hint and responded by running his tongue back up Thomas's neck while pulling at the front of his shirt.
Thomas shivered and his breath hitched when he felt Minho's head nudge his aside, giving more neck room to explore.
"You're such a shuck face." Minho moaned out against his skin. This time, even with how ridiculous they were, Thomas considered those words to be a compliment, and with how stubborn his friend was, it was one of the best compliments he'd ever receive.
He answered by arching his hips upward, ramming his hardened member against Minho's and feeling satisfaction when he heard a sharp moan in response.
Minho scooted himself down Thomas's legs, moving to sit just below his knees. His hands slid down Thomas's chest and stopped at the button of his pants. "Ever since you came up through the Box-" he started undoing the button. The sentence was never finished.
Thomas didn't care, context clues told him just what the black haired boy was thinking, and he liked where it was going. His stomach dropped as Minho tugged at his pants, and he lifted his hips to help get them down.
Minho placed kisses along Thomas's shaft that was now only covered by his underwear. Thomas's body shuddered and his skin grew heated.
The tip of Minho's index finger slowly brought down the rest of the clothing, leaving Thomas's member to be fully exposed.
Thomas propped himself up with his elbow, looking down into Minho's deep brown eyes. He watched as Minho's mouth opened slowly, a string of spit hanging onto his lips. He closed his eyes in time to feel the hot wetness of Minho's mouth close around the head of his member and he bit his bottom lip to quiet his moan.
His muscles clenched and sweat begun to bead itself along his skin. Containing himself when Minho took more of his length into his mouth was hard to do, and he let out a whimper that was probably much too loud.
He felt Minho's lips curve into a smile and he couldn't take it much longer. With his free hand he gripped the back of Minho's hair and tightened his first, to which the black haired boy responded by bringing his mouth back to the head and wrapping his fingers around the shaft where his mouth had just been. Then he began to run to his hand along the length, gaining more speed as he went.
Thomas closed his eyes tightly and his breath hitched. He ached and as he felt himself bounce off of Minho's lips with each movement of the boy's wrist, he reached his climax, releasing himself into Minho's awaiting mouth.
Thomas unclenched his muscles and fell still with relief. Over the sound of his heavy breathing he heard Minho smack his lips together just as his friend's face appeared in front of his own. Minho placed a kiss on Thomas's lips then smiled. "Come on, 'ya shank , they'll get suspicious if we're back too late."