Author's Note: I do not own TMR. All rights belong to James Dashner.


Part III


"For a Straight-A about-to-be valedictorian of our year, you whip up a real dirty prank, shank," Minho smirked, winking at his partner-in-crime as he played around with her test tube set, much to her annoyance.

"Those are extremely fragile equipment you're playing with, not toys," she gritted her teeth, busying herself over the sink, hastily scrubbing some dirty dishes they had earlier. Minho eyed her curiously.

"White lace? Sexy," he purred mischievously, watching in delight as Theresa whipped her head at him and blushed furiously, only just noticing that she had bent over far enough for her to show off her rather risqué underwear.

"Pervert!" Theresa hissed, blushing to the roots of her hair.

"I can't believe you shucking wore them," Minho chuckled, walking over to the love of his life before planting a quick kiss on her cheek, "so how'd you like your birthday present?"

"Other than the fact that they're unexpectedly comfy, I believe they benefit your perverse tastes more than mine," Theresa replied cynically, still red as she returned the kiss.

"But you love me for that anyway, right?" Minho poked her ribs impatiently.

Theresa smirked at him, "I was going to say something else, but let's go with that."

"Bitch!" Minho gawped at her, clutching his heart dramatically.

Theresa rolled her eyes.

-x-

"Vanilla with chocolate syrup? The usual?"

"Yep! Thanks Fry."

"Honestly Tommy, there're at least thirty different flavors here and you pick the one flavor that's sold everywhere," Newt rolled his eyes at the brunette, who was currently bouncing on the backs of feet, waiting agitatedly for his confectionary treat.

"It's a classic!" Thomas pouted stubbornly.

"As I shucking said, it's sold everywhere," Newt snorted, glancing over the wide selection of ice-cream, ranging from Thomas's favorite classic vanilla to the more unique flavors such as salted caramel and grapefruit, "Dumb Tommy."

"You know what's dumb? Buying ice-cream at a pastry shop," Frypan noted, clearly unamused, giving the pair the stink eye.

"Your ice-cream is the best in town," Thomas praised sincerely, not recognizing the poisonous look his favorite ice-cream maker was sending him.

"And the only one," Newt piped up unhelpfully.

Frypan sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as if thinking, Of all people I must be stuck with, it has to be these two shanks.

"What do you want, Newt?" Thomas asked, breaking the ice-cream maker's thoughts.

Newt glared questioningly at the flavors in sight. He bought a different flavour every week and noted down their taste and quality in great detail in his food book so as to ensure to never buy them again if the situation came up.

He absolutely hated ice-cream and would honestly never buy any even if he was starving and ice-cream was the last only edible food to eat on earth. But his Tommy just had to be a fanatic for sweets and every single shucking week he'd look at Newt all sad and cute and whimper "please please pretty please Newt I haven't had any all week" whenever they stopped by Frypan's pastry shop.

At first Newt thought he was begging for sex and his smile was so evil as he said "yes" and was frantically preparing ways to fuck his little Tommy into submission until he realized Thomas was dragging him to the direction of the pastry shop and ordered that one bloody flavor while pressuring the dazed and baffled Newt to order one as well.

Newt had banged his head against the door repeatedly at that until Frypan told him to shut up.

What was worse was Thomas did this every single week. Without. Fail.

Newt did not have the heart to turn him down.

"We don't have all day 'ere, Newt," Frypan cut in, tapping his fingers impatiently on the counter.

And then, Newt had an idea.

"Do you have popsicles?"

Thomas and Frypan raised their eyebrows at him.

"Now that's just an insult," Frypan huffed, insulted, "anyone can make popsicles."

"And you hate popsicles," Thomas noted, eyeing his blonde boyfriend suspiciously.

"They're not that bad," Newt rubbed Thomas's head affectionately, watching as Frypan disappeared behind the counter.

"I bought a pack for us to try two months ago. You took one bite, spit it out, called it a 'monstrosity to mankind', threw the box outside the window, hit Ben's fender, yelled British curses at it before I had to drag you away and cuddle you until you calmed down," Thomas explained placidly.

"I remembered the cuddling," Newt grinned.

"I remembered when you tried to fuck me afterwards," Thomas grumbled, earning a cheeky smirk from his boyfriend.

"Alright," Frypan interrupted their lovey-dovey time, slamming down two boxes of popsicles, "Cherry, grape, lime, or orange?"

"Cherry, thanks mate," Newt winked playfully at the older man, earning an eye-roll from his boyfriend. Frypan sighed and ordered them to pay up.

They paid for their treats and settled into an empty corner of the shop. It was their so-called 'favorite spot' because it was at the back of the shop and had a little curtain they could pull down for privacy and block themselves from the other patrons' view.

As soon as they sat down Thomas hungrily devoured his vanilla cone, much to the other man's amusement.

"It's so delicious~" Thomas sighed happily, cheeks flushing warmly.

Newt perked up and pointed to his cheek.

"There's a little spot there, Tommy."

Before Thomas could wipe off the stain, Newt leaned over the table and cupped his boyfriend's cheek, relishing the blush the brunette was emitting at the closeness before placing his lips over the vanilla cream, licking it slowly, enjoying the little shudder Thomas's body produced as he licked the spot clean.

"Disgusting," Newt muttered, cringing at the sweetness.

"W-What was that for?!" Thomas spluttered, finally broken out of his reverie.

"There was something on your cheek," Newt smiled innocently.

Thomas shook his head, trying to brush off the atomic blush on his cheeks. "Eat your stupid popsicle," he pouted stubbornly.

As if just acknowledging the existence of his popsicle, he picked it up tentatively with his fingertips, giving the overly-colorful wrapper a disgruntled look before ripping it away. The popsicle was – as he ordered – cherry red, with a smooth, phallic shape and if he looked closely enough, had a vanilla jelly center.

"Looks good," Thomas added between bites.

Newt steeled himself, shaking away thoughts on how positively disgusting the popsicle looked. This was the moment he was going to make Thomas drop his jaw and drool and forget about that stupid vanilla ice-cream.

Making sure Thomas had his eyes on him, Newt started to suck at the tip, mentally forcing himself not to vomit as the cold cherry taste hit his tastebuds.

He wrapped his tongue around its shape, trying to melt it faster as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, little droplets of cherry ice slipping down his jaw, watching his boyfriend intently for any sort of reaction.

He heard the sound of ice-cream dropping onto the floor.

Newt smirked. With a determined lick, he continued on.

-x-

Thomas's jaw dropped, eyes widening a fraction at the sight his cute angel was showing.

He had been happily enjoying his vanilla ice-cream a mere few seconds ago before Newt decided to do….this…. to him.

What became plain curiosity at his boyfriend's actions turned to full-on lust after seeing how bloody erotic Newt was deep-throating that popsicle.

He could only stare on as the phallus-shaped treat glided in and out of his blonde boyfriend's mouth. Newt's tongue, pink but slowly turning red, darted around the sides, before coming back to the top to lick the melting tip. And then in a slow, languid motion, his cherry-red lips slid down the entire side to lap up its thick base.

Fuck. Thomas could feel a growing heat in his pants, steadily supporting his enlarging hard on.

He felt his mouth dry up as blood rushed to his cheeks and crotch. Haziness and lust wiped away the former curiosity in his eyes. He swallowed thickly, his eyes not leaving the blonde's.

"N-Newt?" Thomas choked out hoarsely.

With a playful wink, Newt sucked viciously at its tip, watching in feverish excitement as Thomas gripped the table harshly, glaring at his tease of a boyfriend as the droplets dribbled down his chin and dropped onto his exposed collarbone.

I want to lick that, Thomas gulped inaudibly. His melting ice-cream was left completely forgotten on the floor.

As if the situation couldn't get any more dirtier than this, Newt started making those….sounds.

The blonde's eyes dilated into silts, blushing and moaning wantonly as he sucked his popsicle like it was a real cock. He tilted his head back, a growing feeling of anticipation. He felt the cold liquid trickle down his neck, eliciting a strangled groan from his boyfriend.

"Mmm…Tommy, you're so huge…I don't think I can take you all in~" Newt whined beautifully, sliding the popsicle deeper down his throat, a familiar warmth returning to his abdomen, winding him up. This was no longer a popsicle, but a thick, hot cock. Tommy's cock.

The thought of it sent pleasurable tingles up Newt's spine. His gaze returned to his boyfriend, whose face was redder than the popsicle he was blowing. His eyes were burning with a fiery lust, hands gripping the table, as if to control himself from losing it and bending Newt over.

"Ah."

Thomas could almost feel his heart stop at the sight before him.

Newt had bit on the top a little too harshly and the vanilla jelly squirted from its center and landed messily on the blonde's face. Thomas bit his lip till it bled and forced himself not to cry out at Newt's current appearance.

His pale skin was flushed, eyes clouded over with confusion and that stupid shucking adorableness that made guys left right center want to jump him and that damn popsicle still in his mouth still squirting vanilla jelly.

Who could blame Thomas if he had to stand the damn sight of his boyfriend looking as if he just finished blowing someone off and had cum drawn beautifully over his shucked-out face.

At that point of time, Thomas swore he could not only sense, but feel every single strand of his sanity leave him.

"Tommy?" Newt moaned, exhausted, looking up at his stoned boyfriend with those DAMN SHUCKING PUPPY DOG EYES OF HIS.

"I want to blow you."

And that, was how Newt broke Thomas.


That afternoon, passers-by reported a beet-red teenager running out of a pastry shop screaming obscenities at the heavens before slamming face-first into a lamppost and getting a concussion.


Operation: Tease Attempt #2. SUCCESS


And this is why I can't write smut for shit.

By the way, I'll be busy for the next couple of days and thus will be unable to write. Stick with me anyways, though! *eats a cookie*