Disclaimer: The Maze Runner trilogy (c) James Dashner

Excuse any errors :|

Warning(s): Mentions of sexual content

Part VI

He woke up deliciously sore; muscles exhausted; skin ablaze. A dull ache radiated from his lower half, slow and pulsing. A memory from last night bubbled back to the forefront of his mind and Thomas couldn't help the languid smile that stretched his lips. It had hurt, just as Newt warned, despite all the preparation they had done. Minho had gone in first. He'd been slow and methodical, the pain of being pierced lessened with him, and although Thomas was grateful for his carefulness, his arousal suffered.

He'd been erect throughout the experience—a god send, surely—but the orgasm was nearly impossible. Minho had grown tired, his post-orgasm high long substituted with frustration. Newt took his place then. The difference between their lengths didn't cross Thomas's mind until he had no choice but to experience it. Minho was longer. Newt was thicker. The blond grinded hard against Thomas's prostate, his dick squeezed tight in-between those moist walls, until Thomas finally came in a burst of sticky white all over the blankets.

Three hours. It took three hours for Minho and Newt to make him cum. Three long, arduous hours of his boyfriend's desperately trying to achieve a position that would make him scream in ecstasy.

He didn't get to scream, but he came at least.

They cuddled with him that night, hot and sweaty; sticky with their fluids and unbelievably drained. Thomas's tender muscles pulsed in delicious discomfort. It sent fire through his veins and ignited the arousal in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to do it again—felt embarrassed for even admitting it—but his partners had already fallen asleep.

He dreamt of their first time together.

Now awake in a dirty bed, empty of his lovers, and naked and sore, Thomas felt the storm of emotion slam into him light a freight train. Embarrassment, affection and anxiety swirled in his chest as the experience of last night dawned on him.

Minho made it no secret his slow to orgasm was a problem. He had watched the post-coital high on Minho's face morph into exasperation with every thrust he made. He'd seen the arousal in Newt's expression change into uneasiness until he urged the track captain to relax and leave the rest to him.

Thomas curled into himself, his face hot with shame. He didn't want Minho to feel annoyed with him. He enjoyed their threesome, even if his body took forever to show it. He hoped Minho wouldn't take it as a personal offense. And if he did, Thomas would make up for it. He definitely, definitely would.

Newt worried his bottom lip, his mind wandering back to last night as his classmates filed into the room. Alby slipped into the chair beside him. The loud bang of his text book jolted Newt out of his daze.

"For bloody sakes you shank! Give me a heart attack why don't ya?!"

"Sorry," Alby deadpanned. "I didn't realize you were sleeping with your eyes open."

Newt rolled his eyes. "I wasn't, I was just thinking."

"Ah, thinking." Alby rubbed his chin mockingly. "About Minho or Thomas?"

"Tommy."

Alby nodded sagely. "Oh yes, Mr. Edison. What about the newbie has you troubled this time?"

"We had sex last night."

"You and Minho?"

Newt nodded. He leaned back against his chair, dark eyes focused on the door as though he expected Thomas to walk in at any moment. Alby shifted in his seat, brows furrowed with interest.

"Okay, what happened?"

Newt sighed. Outside of Minho and Thomas, Alby was the only other person the blond could confide in about his troubles. The fact Alby was not judgmental about Newt's poly-relationship was an added bonus to their friendship.

"Tommy has… difficulty… when we become sexual." He frowned. Calling it "difficult" felt wrong on his tongue somehow, like Thomas was damaged in some way. He didn't see it that way of course, but Newt still felt guilty for calling it that. "Last night proved how much of a problemit'll be with us." He grimaced. That wasn't a good word either.

Alby raised an eyebrow. "You mean he couldn't get an erection? He's got E.D.?"

"No, I don't think it's that. Last Saturday, he had a hard time maintaining an erection, but last night, it was the orgasm he couldn't reach. It took us three hours to get something out of him." Newt rubbed his temples. "Minho was really frustrated with him."

"That's not the greenbean's fault."

"Try telling him that." Newt grumbled. "Minho was already gone when I woke up this morning and I didn't have time to leave Tommy a note before I left. I'm worried those two shanks are going to do something stupid."

Alby's chuckle was deep and uncomforting. Newt gave the older male a dark look, his patience slowly waning. Alby held up his hands in a placating gesture and said, "I get it. They're morons, but they're your morons so deal with it."

"Thanks for the bloody advice. I'll be sure to treasure it always."

"Alright, alright, you want something more useful? Here's what you shuckfaces should be doin' with the newbie: experiment. You said the greenbean's never been with anyone before right? Then there's a good chance you two shanks ain't hitting the right areas for him. Fool around a bit. Talk about what he wants. If he doesn't have E.D. then this'll be an easy fix, but if he does, see a doctor and let that slinthead Minho know. From what you tell me, the kid's pretty damn insecure. Minho getting mad with him about klunk like this is going to make him feel worse." Alby rolled his eyes dramatically as though Minho's stupidity was palpable from where ever he was. (Newt didn't doubt it.)

"Now that I've single-handedly fixed your atrocious love life, do you have an extra syllabus that I can borrow? I can't remember where I left mine."

Newt scoffed, partially offended but terribly amused. "Thanks Alby, I think you saved my atrocious love life with your words of wisdom."

"God damn right! So the syllabus, Newt?"

Minho left the dorm before dawn broke for a quick jog to clear his head. He set down for the track field, his head in the clouds and his muscles still sore from last night. Taking Thomas's virginity had been something Minho wanted to do from the get –go. He had planned the whole thing out and shared it with Newt, who had laughed but helped him plan when it became obvious that Newt too wanted something with Thomas. He wanted it to be a magical experience for the brunet, something the three of them could remember and cherish. He hadn't accounted for Thomas's sexual dysfunction to get in the way or the boy's laundry list of allergies. Now he understood why Newt changed his plans around; why they had switched lube brands and condoms as many times as they did.

If Minho were perfectly honest with himself, last night was a bit of a disappointment. He'd been wrong to carry around the fantasy that dating Thomas would be easy and he'd been wrong to get angry with the boy the way he did.

Thomas had been hurt. He knew it. Newt knew it. The look on the brunet's face when Minho gave up wrenched the track captain's heart with guilt. He knew the frustration he felt for what happened was nothing compared to the way Thomas felt. The boy tried. They all did.

God, he felt like such an asshole.

Was he doing something wrong? Clearly, he had to be. Newt ejaculated with no problem when it was just the two of them. But Thomas, he didn't understand. Was he not hitting the right areas? Did he want it faster? Harder maybe? Newt liked it slow. Prolonged. He always said it felt more intimate that way, and Minho agreed. He liked taking his time.

Thomas almost went soft when he did.

Minho scowled.

Slow and steady was not something Thomas liked. Newt seemed to have had the same idea, because it took him less time with vigorous, hard thrusting to get Thomas to cum.

Maybe Minho was truly a horrible lover and Newt was humoring him the whole time?

Maybe Thomas didn't like him?

Minho picked up the pace, his heart hammering with every step he took. He crossed another lap.

He was being ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous. He was still learning Thomas's body after all. They were bound to have complications. It took him a while to figure out Newt's kinks. If Thomas had any, he was damn sure going to learn them.

Minho swore the next time they were intimate, he was going to make Thomas cum like never before.

Thomas was surprised to find Minho in their dorm so soon after class. He dropped his backpack by the dresser and approached the silent, brooding athlete.

"Minho?" He questioned. He attentively sat down beside the boy, brown eyes apologetic. "Min, about last night—"

"Am I doing something wrong with you?"

Thomas felt the words die in his throat. Minho turned to him, brows furrowed, black eyes searching.

"I've been thinking about it all day. When I tried to give you a hand job, you didn't respond. When I finally get to fuck you, you don't cum. Is there something wrong with me that you don't like Thomas? Am I not getting something here?"

"No, no, it's not you, Minho—" Thomas tried, but the intensity of Minho's gaze made his body tremble in anxiety. Minho's exasperation from last night and Saturday flashed back into his mind. He needed to try harder. He wanted to stop disappointing them like this.

"Minho," He murmured. He climbed into the older boy's lap and dipped in for a passionate kiss. Minho's hands slid up the length of his thighs and curved down to grip his ass, hard and wanting. Thomas moaned into their kiss, his heart suddenly hammering. He pulled away for a moment, entranced by Minho's half lidded eyes.

"Let me make up for last night, please." He pleaded.

Minho's hesitation felt like a punch in the gut, but the track star pressed his forehead against the brunet's chest and heaved a heavy sigh.

"If that's what you want Thomas. Make it up to me."

Thomas was asleep again by the time Newt returned to the dorm. He found Minho sitting on his bed, dressed down in boxers and a look of intense concentration on his face. He entered the room cautiously, one blond brow raised in silent question. Minho acknowledged his arrival, but refused to speak. Instead, he gestured toward the door then made his way out into the hall.

"What's going on?" Newt asked the moment the door closed behind them. He spotted a sizable bruise on Minho's collarbone, one he didn't recall being there last night. He reached out, long, slender fingers brushed against the discolored bruise lightly. The question was in his eyes before he spoke it.

Minho took his hand gently. He squeezed. Newt felt the inklings of worry gnaw on his nerves.

"What happened?"

"Thomas wanted to make up for last night." Minho began. The hardness in his gaze slackened.

Newt blinked. He remembered the day previous when Thomas had told him about wanting to make up for Saturday. To want to make up for last night too? Did Thomas think…?

"Okay, and?"

"I let him ride me."

"And?" He persisted.

Minho's body sagged. Newt felt the hand holding his tighten again. "He struggled. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have made it at all if I hadn't bit him at the last minute."

Newt frowned, perplexed. "You bit him?"

Minho nodded.

"And he came?"

"A little bit, yeah." Minho glanced back to the door before turning to Newt again. "I think Thomas is one of those people who really gets off on pain. He responds better to it at least. I think we should experiment with that."

"I don't know, Min. That's…" Dangerous. Uncharted territory.

Newt knew nothing about masochism and he was certain Minho didn't either. When it came to sex, Minho and Newt were quite set on what they liked and didn't like. Sure, they experimented at first, but they fell into a pattern fairly quickly. The desire to explore the rabbit hole deeper had never really came into mind. But Thomas was a special circumstance and Newt wasn't sure if they were ready to explore that world. Yet, the brunet's behavior following their sexual adventures and his insecurity of their feelings for him kept Newt from voicing his trepidation.

Alby's advice about experimenting filtered back into his mind. He wanted Thomas to be happy, and as it was, he wasn't. He was nervous, unfulfilled and self-conscious. Everything Newt and Minho didn't want him to feel when it was between the three of them.

"Okay," He exhaled, feeling oddly resigned. "Alby suggested we experiment anyway. If you think we should then I'll agree to it, but this is an unknown world we're stepping into, Minho. The moment everything goes wrong, we need to stop. I don't want Thomas to get hurt. The point of this is to make him feel good when he's with us, not traumatize him."

Minho nodded, expression solemn. "For Tommy."

Newt suddenly huffed. "Who said you could call him Tommy?"

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