Hey peeps!
Have I told you that you are all wonderful people?
I pretty much go MIA for four bloody months and yet you are nothing but supportive. I love reading all of your reviews (even the ones that threaten bodily harm) and seeing your opinions on this story.
So a lot of you requested this in your reviews: either Tom/Teresa getting jealous and the other one reassuring them, and it's the least I could do after disappearing.
A warning: this starts out pretty light-hearted, but the dark parts in the middle. Mature kissing scenes too.
That being said, happy reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Maze Runner.
I'm Not Jealous!
*Teresa*
Teresa did not consider herself to be a possessive person.
She did not get jealous. Thomas might be her boyfriend, but it was perfectly okay for him to talk to other girls.
Even if said girl was a dumb blonde with the most annoying laugh on the planet and flirted like it was her job. She knew it was hot, but she didn't think it was that hot that the blonde had to rip her shirt practically in half, exposing her perfectly toned stomach.
She also didn't think it was necessary to cross her arms tightly over her chest and lean on the table, giving Thomas a perfect view of her cleavage. Thomas, however, seemed to be completely unaware what the girl opposite him was up to (God bless his obliviousness).
"Take a picture, why don't you?" Ana muttered dryly. "It'll last longer."
"Oh shut up," the dark-haired girl snapped. "I'm not staring. I'm perfectly calm, see?"
"I do see," her sister responded. "I see that your fork is going to dig a hole in the table soon unless you move it."
Unfortunately, Ana was right.
Teresa stabbed her fork viciously into her mashed potatoes, imagining each one to be the dumb blonde's face.
"Hey, if you're going to insist on murdering those mashed potatoes, could I have them?" Minho piped up helpfully, his gaze fixed on her plate. She shot him a death glare, blue eyes flashing.
"Or not," the Asian boy murmured under his breath, turning back to his own food.
"Teresa! Hey! Over here!" She looked up to find Thomas waving to her frantically, a smile on his face. "You haven't met Katy yet, have you?"
Teresa forced a smile on her face as she made her way over to the two. Katy's eyes flashed quickly over her, and she knew the girl was sizing her up, seeing if she was competition.
As soon as she sat down, Thomas pressed his lips to hers and she reciprocated in kind, looping her arms around his neck and responding with a bit too much enthusiasm than was probably appropriate in public.
"MY EYES!" Minho wailed dramatically. "MY POOR VIRGIN EYES! I fear I may never be able to eat again!"
Teresa pulled away, unable to help the sly smirk on her lips. "Slim it, slinthead," she rolled her eyes at him. "You wouldn't last two seconds if you tried not to eat. You love food."
Ignoring Minho's scowl, she turned her attention to the furious girl sitting opposite them. "Hi, Katy!" she greeted the blonde. "It's so nice to meet you!"
"Likewise," Katy replied, flashing her a tight-lipped smile. "You guys are so perfect for each other! How long have you been dating?"
"A year and a half," Thomas told her. "We knew each other from when we were five, though."
"It took this shuckface ten years to get the courage to kiss me," Teresa rolled her eyes. "And whoop-de-do, after that, we get thrown into the damn Maze and we forgot everything."
"But I've always loved her, no matter what," Thomas said, so quietly she thought only she could hear him. She gazed up at him and smiled, happiness blooming inside her.
"Excuse me," Katy said. "I'll be right back."
She got up and left, pushing through the crowd. Teresa couldn't help but grin smugly. Take that.
Thomas's lips brushed her cheek. "You know, I think I like it when you're jealous."
She scoffed. "Who, me? I'm not jealous!"
She could feel him smile. "You are. Don't try lying to me, Teresa. You're so jealous."
She turned her head around to face him. "Fine! Fine, so what if I am jealous? Don't pretend like you wouldn't be too. What if I was talking to another guy? What if he was interested in me? What if he was shirtless and I was talking to him and smiling at him? You wouldn't be jealous at all, right?"
Instantly, his eyes darkened and she felt a shiver go through her. "I would be," he whispered into her ear. "I would be so jealous that I would want to rip you away and push you against the wall and kiss you until neither one of us can breathe."
She sucked in a breath, and the air between them seemed to charge with electricity, and she knew that he wanted her the same way she wanted him. "We're in the hall," she whispered, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against hers.
"Then let's go somewhere else."
The door had barely shut behind her before his mouth was on hers.
His lips were soft and firm against hers, and one of his hands was around her waist, keeping her from falling, and the other cupping her face. She reached up and twined her fingers behind his neck and he gasped against her mouth as she pressed up against him.
She parted her lips and his tongue slipped into her mouth; she felt like her skin was on fire, his hands slipping down her bare shoulders, down her chest, curving about her hips.
Her feet slipped on the wooden floor and they half-stumbled backwards onto the bed, Thomas propping himself up on his elbows so as to not crush her. His face was flushed, she saw, his eyes a dark caramel, and he stared at her as if he had never seen her before in her life. "Teresa," he whispered. "Teresa, I love you – "
She didn't allow him to finish, but pulled him down to her, his lips against hers, his kisses increasing in urgency. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, but her hands were shaking so much she could hardly undo them – finally, they were off, the fabric nearly ripped, and he shucked it off impatiently.
The Trials had made him taller and leaner, and she explored his chest - hard muscle, not an inch of fat – and he shuddered under her touch. They rolled sideways, her legs scissoring around his, and he pulled her hairband out, her dark curls cascading down her back.
He could not stop running his hands over her in wonder; her bare legs, her waist, hips, shoulders. Each place he touched burned like it had been branded and he stopped at the hem of her top, his eyes uncertain, and she felt a wave of tenderness rush over her. She wanted him to see her, see her like no one had seen her before, and she lifted the her top over her head and dropped it on the floor beside the bed.
She was nearly topless in front of him now; only her bra kept her from being completely exposed, but Thomas didn't seem to mind, looking at her in a way that made her flush.
His hands were exploratory, fascinated as they skimmed her stomach, and suddenly she tensed, remembering –
He stopped, and she heard him suck in a breath.
"What is this?" he asked quietly, his fingers stroking the length of the scar that ran sideways along the length of her torso. She had hoped she would never have to tell him that story, but in the heat of the moment, she had forgotten.
He was looking at her, brown eyes intense, waiting for an answer. She couldn't lie – not to Thomas. He would see right through her.
"It was in the Scorch," she started, her voice soft. "It was dark, and none of us wanted to continue – we decided to spend the night in an abandoned warehouse. Only, it wasn't as abandoned as we thought."
She remembered the darkness of the night, the screams of her friends, the petrified feeling in her stomach. "There were Cranks there, lying in wait. They were – they were cannibals. In the final stages of the Flare."
He was quiet, letting her tell the story.
"They ambushed us, and we panicked. We scattered everywhere. I remember hiding with this girl – I never found out her name. We were under a desk, hidden by the shadows, but they found us. They wanted me to watch – they wanted me to see her death." Teresa's voice shook, but she knew she couldn't fall apart.
"I remember the blood. There was so much blood, spilling everywhere. They cut her apart, bit by bit, slicing her skin, and then they disembowelled her. They were laughing. And I saw how they had become worse than animals, even. They had no trace of humanity left in them. None at all. I saw them eat her, Tom. Like she was a piece of meat. Her flesh, her organs, her skin. There was blood dripping everywhere, but they didn't even care. And then they turned to me."
Thomas's fingers stilled.
"They wanted to cut me open completely –I remember the pain when the knife slid across my skin – " her hand traced the scar unconsciously, "and that's when WICKED came to help us."
"WICKED?" Thomas asked. "But I thought – "
"They led us there, Tom. They wanted us to see what the Cranks were capable of – what they could do. There were forty girls when we went into that building. Only twenty came out. Twenty."
"And then they told me," Teresa's voice, her face was expressionless. "They told me what they would do to you. They told me they would throw you to the Cranks. Another Variable – another test to see how many of you would survive. I saw that girl die, Tom. I saw the pain in her eyes, I heard her screams, I saw the life drain from her. I couldn't let them do that to you."
"Is that why – when I saw you in that shack – "
"They sedated me," she interrupted. "They couldn't risk me telling you everything. They were controlling me, my mind, my mouth, everything. But I had to – I had to warn you. I managed to break out, just for a little while, to come and tell you to stay away – "
"You saved our lives," he told her. "You saved all of our lives, Teresa. Mine and Minho's and Newt's – "
"You would have done the same for me," she said evenly. "It doesn't matter, Tom."
"Doesn't matter?" He nearly laughed. "Teresa – you – what did they do to you, afterward?"
She looked down. "They were furious with me, at first. And then they came up with a new idea. They said that they wanted to test your trust in me – they ordered me to hate you, to pretend to kill you. I tried to tell you again, to warn you of what was coming."
And I didn't listen. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, sick with self-loathing. She had sacrificed so much to save him and he had repaid her with suspicion and dislike.
"I'm so sorry, Teresa," he said finally. "I don't know how you can stand to be near me right now. I – I'm so, so sorry."
"How could you know?" she asked sensibly. "I gave you vague warnings – you were probably confused yourself – how could you have known? You had your trust betrayed so many times by WICKED. It's not your fault, Tom. It's WICKED's. It's always been WICKED's."
WICKED could burn in hell, Thomas thought, and for a moment he felt hatred rage through him, for what they had done to Teresa, to Minho, to Newt, to him. WICKED had never been good, he thought bitterly. They were corruption, through and through. They might have lied to the world, to themselves, but he knew the truth.
Teresa was looking at him with an uncharacteristically shy expression. "Does it bother you? My scar?"
"Does it bother me?" he laughed, disbelievingly, and pulled her close. "You went through unimaginable pain to get this scar, Teresa. To me, it'll always be a reminder of how much I owe you. You have this scar because you chose to save me."
"You're beautiful," he said, and the absolute sincerity in his eyes stunned her. "You've always been beautiful, and I love you, and I will never stop loving you. No matter what."
For a minute, she was frozen, and then he brought his lips down on hers, peppering kisses down her face, her neck, her collarbone, and she wound her hands in his hair, trying to get as close as physically possible. He kissed her scar and the curves of her breasts and she gasped and arched, exposing more skin to his generous mouth.
And then he was slowing, kissing her softly, gently, drawing back to look at her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "We don't have to," he said. "We don't have to do this right now. We can wait. Take things slowly. I won't mind."
Teresa stared up at him, at the familiar face she knew so well, the boy who had been by her side for more than a decade, and she knew she was more than ready. "But I will."
His eyes widened with adoration and disbelief and she saw him swallow. "I want you, Teresa. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I know for a fact that I won't ever deserve you, but I want you anyway. If you'll have me, then I'm yours."
"I guess you're mine then," she said and he closed the distance between them.
Well.
Well, well, well.
Who was expecting that?
This is, by far, the steamiest make-out session I have EVER written IN MY WHOLE LIFE. I'm quite proud of it, to be honest. It takes talent to write pages of kissing, you know.
I spent two hours writing this chapter, so please review and tell me how it was.
Till next time!