Disclaimer: The Maze Runner (c) James Dashner

Wow, this fandom is pretty dead on FF. Now that Part 3 is up, updates are going to be slower in progress since it's officially caught up with AO3, but unlike AO3, I'm going to stick up the side stories together with this thing too.

Warning(s): Sexual content near the end. (It's not too explicit though for reasons that will become apparent)

Part III

Newt was on the lonesome twin bed against the wall, nursing a cup of jo' in one hand while checking the school schedule in the other, when his boyfriends returned to the dorm. He gave them a welcoming smile and gestured to a couple of mugs on the counter, already steaming in wait.

"Just made it. I figured you'd want some. There are cookies here too." He gestured to a container filled with chocolate chip cookies on the desk beside the bed. "A gift for Thomas, apparently."

Minho arched an eyebrow at the brunet.

Thomas rolled his eyes, familiar with the look. "Must have been from Teresa or Harriet. I saw them earlier on my walk."

"Tommy has many secret admirers." Newt laughed, though it didn't sound as genuine as it should have been. If anything, it sounded bitter. Minho, on the other hand, looked mildly annoyed. Almost as though he was unhappy for some inexplicable reason. Something warm and fuzzy wormed its way into Thomas's chest at the look on their expressions. Were they jealous?

He shut down his brain before it could spiral out of control. He grabbed a mug from the counter and joined Newt on the bed, slipping in with relative ease. He plucked a couple of cookies from the plastic container and gave Newt an appreciate smile.

"Thanks for the hot coco," He leaned his head against Newt's shoulder comfortably, mindful of their hot drinks. "It's a bit off season for hot coco though."

"Don't be silly. It's never off season for hot coco."

Minho joined them on the bed, his own mug in hand. He sat near the end by their drawn up legs, dark brown eyes falling on the sheet of paper in Newt's hand.

"Whaddya readin'?" He asked through a mouthful of cookie.

Newt scoffed in repulsion. "Swallow before you speak, Min. That's bloody disgusting. And this is my schedule for this semester. I picked up everyone's."

"I know my schedule." He countered. "Lots of klunk classes and track until my knees give out."

"What about you, Tommy?"

Thomas shrugged. He took a drink from his cup, savoring the sweetness of melted marshmallows and the slight bitterness of chocolate on his tongue.

"I think I can remember it."

Newt nodded in response, his face set in a slight frown.

Minho chugged the remainder of his hot chocolate and set the mug on the floor, much to Newt's distaste.

"So!" He began, patting his knees in excitement. "You shanks ready for some quality bonding?" He flashed them a grin, pearly white and positively lecherous.

Thomas stiffened, his heart rate quickening. (He missed the way Newt turned to him, an inquisitive look in his eyes or the way Minho's expression sobered subtly.)

"We-we're just doing handjobs today, right? Like mutual masturbation?"

Minho's lecherous smile turned amused. "Yeah greenbean, we're taking it slow for ya."

"Don't call me that," Thomas sulked. His response only made the older boy smile more.

Newt turned to Minho then, silently questioning their change of plans.

"Oh yeah, Thomas looked uncomfortable with the threesome idea, so I told him we could take it slow for him. You don't mind right?"

He didn't. Thomas felt relieved. A part of him worried his inexperience would frustrate the duo, but so far, they'd been nothing but patient.

Minho crawled up the length of their legs, dark eyes flashing in delight as heat crawled up Thomas's neck again. He pressed himself against the cropping of pillows, watching with bated breath as Minho ascended toward him. A devious smirk crossed his handsome face then—one he shared with Newt briefly—before capturing Thomas's lips with his own. He craned his neck into Minho's kiss, the taller boy cupping his face. He felt his face burn as he exposed the creamy flesh of his neck for Newt to mar with loving, tender kisses.

Thomas whimpered, their touches intoxicating. Newt licked and nipped. Minho caressed and claimed.

They switched suddenly; Newt claiming his lips and Minho planting kisses down his neck. He pulled Newt closer to deepen the kiss, using his tongue in an effort to claim the blond's mouth, but Minho's ministrations against his flesh weakened his determination. He felt the blond's smile against his lips, a small chuckle close behind.

They traded again, this time leaving Thomas to lock lips with each other. He watched them, feeling breathless and aroused. He was terribly hot and anxious to relieve his inflamed body, but he didn't dare to move as they kissed; wasn't even sure if they wanted him to do anything at this moment. He felt inclined to join them, wanted to suck on Newt's pale flesh while Minho dominated his mouth or bite onto the athlete's jugular while Newt nibbled on his bottom lip.

Thoughts on how their relationship would work started pouring into his mind.

They could take turns, it seemed. They would try to fulfill each other's needs; take into consideration what each of them wanted. If they felt awkward or uncomfortable, they could talk it out. Newt and Minho seemed patient enough with him that taking it slow wouldn't be a problem for them, right?

Thomas barely registered Newt's naked torso, broad and smooth, in front of his face. He didn't notice Minho stripping off his shirt, showing off his tanned, built abs from years of sports and exercise. And he sure as hell didn't register his own shirt flying off until it flopped to ground in a messy heap with theirs. They were on him again, peppering his bare torso with soft kisses and light nips.

Minho reached for the zipper on his jeans, the loud ZIP of his pants being undone derailed the brunet's thoughts harshly. He jerked upwards, nearly head-butting into Newt's body and startling the duo.

"Wait! Wait," He blushed, taking in their half-naked forms for the first time. "We-we're just going to do it on Newt's bed? It's not big enough, don't you think?"

"Shut off your brain for once, Thomas." Minho smirked, amused. "You're going to kill your own mood if you keep overthinking this."

"But—"

"The bed is fine, Tommy." Newt cut in, his voice soft as though he were cajoling a child. Thomas couldn't blame him, he felt unexpectedly skittish with Mino so close to his groin. "Minho's goin' to pleasure you first while you'll do me."

"Then who does Minho?"

"Preferably the both of you." The athlete grinned. He reached over and planted a kiss on Thomas's temple. "Now chill out, shut off your shucking brain and go with the flow."

Thomas opened his mouth to retort, but Newt's lips silenced his words before he could voice them. He moaned into the blond's mouth, the heat in the pit of his stomach reigniting. He forced his mind to focus on their treatment, the way Newt's tongue would flow into his mouth like a tide; how his long fingers caressed his jawline or tangled themselves in his chocolate brown hair. He felt the way Minho took off his jeans, how his nails accidentally scratched into his thighs and sent a spark of pain through his nerves. Another moan had escaped his throat then. The sharp, quick prick had silenced his thoughts, but now as Minho carefully tugged off his underwear, Thomas felt his anxiety return.

He wasn't sure what to do with his hands. He wanted to pull Newt in close, have his fingers roam across that startling body. He wanted to bury them into the older boy's golden locks or leave a fluttering trail of light touches all the way down to Newt's hardening length. He wanted to squeeze the boy's ass, maybe tug on Minho's hair. He wanted to do something, but as it stood, his hands were frozen on Newt's hips, trembling with nerves and growing clammy with sweat.

His body jolted unexpectedly; something rough, yet warm and slick with a gel like substance wrapped around his half-hard erection. Lube. It must have been lube. Minho had the lube.

Oh god.

The thought of what kind of lube crossed his mind. He didn't get a chance to tell them about his allergies.

Newt pulled away suddenly, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from kissing. He planted another sweet kiss along the brunet's neck then turned back to Minho, brown eyes searching.

Minho glanced up from his work, tanned hand coated in lube, his grip tight around Thomas, but not unbearable. (In truth, Thomas felt it was too loose for his liking.) He silently questioned the blond's expression, face curious, but Newt merely shook his head and returned back to Thomas.

"Thomas needs more stimulation." Newt paused, surprised etched in his eyes. Thomas felt his toes clench in embarrassment, Minho's fingers stroking his half-hard length. "He's not fully erect here."

"I've got it."

Newt gazed into his dark brown eyes, looking as though he were searching for something. He leaned in close, his stare shifting toward Thomas's lips. They were kissing in seconds, more reverently than before. Minho hummed a response, but said nothing more.

Thomas tried to shut out his thoughts, but they were persistent. He hoped it wouldn't ruin their time together.

Humiliation kept him up for most of the night. Despite how hard they tried, Thomas couldn't climax and the embarrassment and disappointment that came after soured his mood beyond repair. His inability to perform halted their progress.

It shouldn't have.

Minho and Newt were well enough into the mood to keep going without him, but instead of continuing for their own release, they chose to stop on his behalf and forced their own arousal to slip away. They all curled together on Newt's bed that night, the humiliated brunet in-between them, still naked and bothered from their failed session. Minho was the first to succumb to sleep, but Newt lingered longer, watching him in the dark. Thomas felt the blond wanted to talk to him, perhaps ask him if he was okay. Maybe tell him he shouldn't feel bad. But Thomas did and he couldn't help it.

When Newt managed to drift off, Thomas stayed awake for hours thinking about what had gone wrong. He'd been so into it. Sure, he stuttered a bit; felt anxious and uncertain at certain points, but he'd been aroused. He was looking forward to the experience. He trusted Minho. He trusted Newt. What had happened?

It took him ages, but he had managed to fall asleep only to wake up a few hours later to the sound of birds chirping beyond their window and the light bustling of students out in the hall. He felt squished in-between their bodies, hot with the blankets drawn and hotter knowing they were stark naked underneath. Images from last night flashed into his mind and he felt the humiliation of disappointing them burn onto his cheeks again.

Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable lying there. Too hot. Too vulnerable.

He sat up hastily, disentangling himself from Minho's grip and shoved away the blanket. The cool air of the dorm felt nice against his heated skin and it relieved him of the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm his exhausted mind. Movement from his right caught his eye.

Newt stirred, his blond hair disheveled from sleep and his face screwed up in discomfort. He'd been pushed against the wall for most of the night, his left arm serving as a pillow while his right arm had been draped around Thomas. Now, as he struggled to sit up, Thomas figured his left arm had fallen asleep, cut from circulation for most of the night. He grumbled in annoyance, trying his best to flex the dead hand.

Minho rested precariously near the edge of the bed on his stomach. His legs were thrown out haphazardly—most of it were on Thomas's—while his left arm had laid across the brunet's chest; his right arm dangled off the bed and grazed the carpet below. He drooled onto the mattress, still dead to the world despite the movement.

How the three of them managed to fit onto the tiny twin bed was beyond him. They were lucky he hadn't really slept, otherwise he was certain Minho would have fallen to the floor by now.

Newt's yawn brought him out of his thoughts, and to his horror, he found he couldn't quite face the blond just yet. He climbed out of the bed with surprising ease and made for the closet for a fresh pair of clothes. He felt the boy's eyes as he dressed. He picked up his pace when he felt he was being naked for too long.

"Tommy—"

A loud thump startled the duo into silence. Thomas whirled back to the bed in time to catch sight of a groggy, unhappy looking Minho sit up from the floor. He rubbed the side of his head, a streak of drool glistening at the corner of his lips.

"What the klunk Newt? I'm awake." He grumbled.

Newt rolled his eyes. "You fell off on your own, shank. No one told you to roll." He stared back at Thomas, grabbing the boy's full attention. "Tommy, we need to talk about last night—"

"I'm sorry," he interjected, feeling fidgety and uncomfortable under Newt and Minho's gaze. "I'll try harder next time. I got… my nerves distracted me."

"Maybe the three of us together was too much." Minho yawned. He climbed to his feet, showing off his toned, fit body with pride and joy. The embarrassment was back, but so too was the arousal.

Thomas looked away from Minho, annoyed with his body, but relieved. He was attracted to them at least. He was just… over thinking things.

"Let's try it individually and work our way to a group." Newt suggested when it looked like Minho was too sleepy to continue. "That way, you can get used to us at your own pace, Tommy."

"S-sounds good…"

He glanced up at the clock, noting the time. Today was the last day to get everything done before the start of the semester that Monday. With their dorm finally organized and their schedules set up for the year, there was only a few things left for them to do: shopping for food and their school supplies. As for Thomas, he needed to make sure his classes were correct.

I'm pretty sure I won't have to write a lot of warnings since so far this has been the only "explicit" thing written.

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