Disclaimer: The Maze Runner (trilogy) (c) by James Dashner

I'm having a lot of internet connectivity issues this past week. It was nearly impossible updating this on my computer so I had to borrow my mom's computer until my brother figures out what the fuck is going on with my wifi.

There's a time skip in this chapter (about a month) so if it feels disjointed, that's why. Updates will be a bit slower now that you guys have finally caught up with my AO3 readers.

Warning(s): Typos probably. Mentions of sex. Impending jealousy. Popcorn.

Part VIII

He hated to admit it, but watching his boyfriends get lovey-dovey when they thought he wasn't around irked him. It wasn't so much that they did it behind his back—Newt and Minho were very honest about their feelings and that was perfectly fine with Thomas-it was because of the way Thomas felt after walking in on such intimacy that annoyed him. There was a certain gentleness they had for each other that Thomas didn't feel when it was the three of them. They cared about him, yes, but it didn't feel nearly as genuine when it was just Newt and Minho.

Minho was considerate of Newt when they were alone. Thomas once caught Minho giving Newt a bigger share of the last piece of strawberry shortcake despite knowing it would be a long while until they had more again. Newt gave Minho a lot more leeway when it came to the things he had done wrong. When they made love—and Thomas would accidentally walk in on them—it was slow and methodical. Minho would rock his hips in ways Thomas thought he was incapable of doing and Newt was ever so mindful of all of Minho's sweet spots.

Thomas saw none of that.

Newt scolded him like a mother would a child and Minho would sometimes bully him playfully.

Sex with them was very much the same. If Thomas was giving, Newt always had a thing or two to say. Things that worked for Minho didn't work when Thomas did it, even though he was certain he was doing them exactly the way he had seen Minho do it, but Newt was never satisfied. In fact, he tended to be a little agitated whenever Thomas tried to emulate Minho. When Thomas was receiving, Newt was a lot more dominating. He wasn't as bad as Minho, who tended to be rough and almost barbaric, but he was definitely a lot less forgiving. Sex with Minho was animalistic. It was taxing physically and Thomas often times came out with more cuts than when he went in. Sex with Newt was like psychological warfare, it was mentally exhausting and he lost every freaking time.

It was enough to make Thomas insecure about his position in their relationship.

It was worse during their threesomes. Thomas suspected Minho was a closet sadist. He was already a bastard when it came to their one-on-one time, but in a threesome, it was like Minho was three times as worse. He had a habit of biting Thomas's flesh in the midst of their ministrations or scratching the ever living hell out of him without warning. He'd dug his nails deep enough to draw beads of blood once or twice.

Honestly, Thomas was okay with it. If that was what Minho needed to climb over the edge then he would be willing to be the boy's scratching post, but when it happened every single time of their love making? Thomas wasn't sure he could deal with it. Not only that, did they honestly need to restrain him? It wasn't like he planned on running away. Restraining him felt more like a hindrance in their threesome. He was often the filling in their sandwich; Minho would ram him from the back and Thomas would thrust into Newt that was how they usually went. Sometimes, he would pleasure Newt enough to reach orgasm before Minho did, and that alone was enough to elate Thomas for the moment, but lately, Newt hadn't wanted to be on the receiving end. He seemed to want to tie up Thomas in various creative ways then fuck his throat raw. They would switch from time to time, so that it was Minho trying to choke him and Newt trying to ram him down.

It seemed all they really wanted to do was get their fill of him and toss him aside.

If he had to be honest with himself, Thomas didn't mind rough sex. What he did mind was feeling like a toy for his boyfriends. Minho and Newt were certainly making him feel like he was nothing more than a glorified dildo.

Watching them now, as Newt microwaved a bag of popcorn for their movie night and Minho cracked a joke about their choice of film, made Thomas's blood boil. He felt he was being petty. It wasn't common for them to have an assignment free Friday night, but Thomas couldn't quell the bad temperament simmering within his veins. Minho and Newt had a breakfast date that morning while Thomas overslept and was late for his first class. They ate lunch together while Thomas endured thirty minutes of Rat Man lecturing him on his sub-par essay, which received the highest grade in the class despite one minor error. As for dinner, Thomas ate alone because Minho had track practice and Newt wanted to add the finishing touches on his project due next week.

Yes, Thomas felt incredibly bitter in the presence of his roommates and, sadly, he felt having a movie night with them was not something he wanted to do. So instead of joining Minho on the floor, he climbed into the bed and turned his back on the two of them like a petulant child. He was content with glaring holes into the wall for the duration of their movie night when instead of hearing the tell-tale sounds of a movie starting or the popping of kernel, he heard silence. He resisted the urge to turn around. He already felt like a child in his temperament, he didn't want to see the looks on their faces because of it.

The silence persisted for another few seconds until he felt the mattress dip under the weight of one of his roommates. A hand gently brushed aside a strand of his bangs in what he guessed was meant to be a placating gesture.

"What's wrong Tommy? Are you sick?"

Newt probably meant to sound concerned, but Thomas heard the disappointment laced in his question. He couldn't tell if it was from the idea of him getting sick despite knowing how much Newt hated them getting ill or if it was because he was being a brat in the middle of what was supposed to be a great night with lovers. Being so uncertain made him all the more bitter.

"No," He bit out, his body tensing. "I'm not sick, I'm just in a bad mood."

"On movie night?" Minho this time, and he most certainly sounded annoyed. "Oh come on Thomas! Don't be a shuck face. Get out of your funk and watch the movie with us."

Thomas curled tighter into himself, trying his best to retrain the boiling rage inside.

"How are we supposed to cuddle together if you're going to lay around moping?"

Thomas whirled on them like lightning, his brown eyes blazing in fury. "The same way you do when I'm not around, Minho! Don't pretend like you actually give a klunk if I'm here or not. I'm only convenient when the frustration is too much, remember?"

Newt frowned, taken aback by the boy's outburst. "What the bloody hell are you talking about, Tommy?"

Thomas eyed the confused blond then the stunned expression on Minho's face. He turned his back on them once more, having no desire to explain his concerns.

Minho's surprised morphed into annoyance.

"Don't snap at me and not explain yourself! What the hell is your problem Thomas? You've been pissy all day and I'm starting to get really tired of it."

The brunet barked out a nasty laugh. He missed the way Newt gripped the edge of his mattress or the thinly veiled look of unease in Minho's eyes. He turned back to the Asian, his expression contorted into a bitter scowl.

"Sorry if my attitude is getting on your nerves, Minho. Why don't I do all of us a favor and leave? That way, you guys won't have to worry about me being in the way."

He made to climb out of the bunk, but felt Newt's hand thud against his chest. He pushed the younger male back into the bunk as Minho and Newt eyed him with piercing eyes.

"Tommy, what are you talking about?" The blond demanded, keeping him rooted in place. "When did we ever say you were in the way?"

"Stop pretending like you care Newt! You two obviously don't!"

"Are you kidding me?!" Minho snapped. "What the—"

Newt silenced the older male with a dark glare. He turned back to Thomas, who glowered darkly into the sheets in a childish act of defiance. They would have thought it adorable if it didn't concern them so much.

"Tell us why you think we don't care."

Thomas grimaced. He didn't want to have to think about it again, but Newt was a stubborn bastard. He wasn't going to let him go otherwise.

"You two treat each other differently than when you're with me," He began, annoyed with his dejected tone. The last thing he wanted was for them to know he was hurting. Being angry was a safer emotion. "You guys are tender together, loving. When you have sex, it's sweet and romantic, but when it's me, it's rough and vicious." He scowled again. He stared into their eyes with a penetrating gaze, silently challenging them to prove him wrong. "It's not fair."

Minho and Newt exchanged expressions before turning back to Thomas.

"That's not our fault though."

Thomas felt his blood freeze just as Newt shot Minho another judgmental glare. (Minho wilted under the blond's gaze, but it wasn't enough to make him retract his words.)

"What he means is, we're rough because that's what you want, Tommy."

"I wouldn't be upset if that was something I wanted, Newt!"

Newt heaved a heavy sigh. He gave Minho a pleading look before shifting to the side slightly, giving Thomas a better view of the Track Star on the floor.

"Listen Thomas, I don't know if you've noticed, but your brain gets in the way a lot when it comes to sex. You over think everything and that's a problem. In fact," Minho gave Newt a meaningful look before turning dark eyes back to the boy in question. "There was a time Newt and I thought you were miserable being with us because of how distracted you were when it came to sex. But then, we realized you weren't disinterested, you were just thinking." He frowned suddenly, as though he were loath to admit the reality of his words. "We came to the consensus you weren't getting enough pleasure out of us, so we came up with an experiment."

"An experiment?" Thomas deadpanned.

The boys nodded solemnly.

"That's great. Enlighten me."

The sarcasm wasn't appreciated, but Thomas could careless at this point. He wanted to hear what half-assed methods they came up with for treating him this way.

"I get your pissed, especially since we didn't tell you about it, but you can't say it didn't freaking work. We spent two months on this experiment and compared notes every chance we got just so we understood what got you off and what didn't."

"For instance," Newt continued before Thomas could interrupt. "We figured out you definitely prefer threesomes as opposed to individual sex. Even if we weren't involved directly, you were more aroused with the three of us in the room than when one of us wasn't." He lifted up a second finger. "Secondly, you were more likely to respond to physical pain than if no pain was involved, as was evident in the way Minho would bite you."

"Which is all great and kinky but damn it Thomas, you are the absolute worst person when it comes to cleaning your injuries!"

"Thirdly," Newt continued, raising another finger on his mental checklist. "Your orgasm came quicker when you were being scolded than praised. In all, your orgasms lasted longer under harsher treatment than when we were being gentle."

"Need I remind you the one time we had a threesome and you were the only one who didn't cum despite being in the middle?" Minho added bitterly.

"Can't you let that go?" Thomas pleaded. He could still feel the utter mortification he felt from that horrible instance.

"No, I can't. That was humiliating for everyone and it still haunts my dreams to this day." Minho huffed.

"What we're trying to say is the only way to make you feel good during sex is with lots of pain and domination."

"You guys can't be serious."

"Speak for yourself, it's your body shuckface."

"Think about the last time we had sex." Newt started. "How long was your orgasm? And why was that?"

Thomas thought back to their last sexual encounter about two weeks ago. It had been around the time he began to notice their treatment of him. That time, Minho had tied him his wrists behind his back whilst Newt rammed into him with enough force, it warranted a noise complaint from the neighbors. That was also the time Minho nearly choked him with his hazardous thrusting. Although, his orgasm did blind him for a good thirty seconds (and the trails of semen Minho pumped out of him felt never ending despite how sensitive his dick became).

Maybe they had a point. Thomas wasn't a typical lover. He needed pain to keep him focused and powerful thrusts to push him over the edge. It was no wonder Minho and Newt sought solace amongst themselves. It seemed stressful trying to tend to Thomas's needs.

His trail of thought lead to another can of worms. If he was such a hard lover to please, why did they—

He heard their long suffering sighs before he felt Newt's hands pull him out of the bunk. He was on the floor before he could blink, situated in between Newt's legs and held against the blond's chest. Minho grabbed the bowl of popcorn abandoned on the counter before joining them. He rested himself against Thomas, pinning the brunet between them like a captive. Newt pressed PLAY on the remote and settled against the wall of pillows meant for the three of them.

"Stop thinking for once and enjoy the movie, okay?" Newt implored, holding him close. "We'll talk more about this later, I promise."

Thomas sighed. He really didn't have much of a choice in the matter, but he would deal. After all, it wasn't everyday he got to spend quality time with his boyfriends and if they cared enough about his needs to tire themselves just to satisfy him, the most he could do was sit through a movie with them without complaint.

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