Unedited, I'll upload an edited copy at some point next week. Mind the typos.

More miscommunication and brash commentary from the boys in this uvu but don't fret, it gets better.

Part XI

His muscles wouldn't stop trembling. The perpetual sickness in his stomach kept Thomas from enjoying breakfast with his lovers. It wasn't usual they spent Sunday morning like this. They had far too much to do, with homework and exams, yet Minho and Newt didn't seem at all bothered by the work load. In fact, they seemed relaxed, almost happy to be able to eat breakfast like this.

Thomas felt envious. He really wanted to enjoy his bacon and eggs too.

Newt nudged him gently. "You okay? You haven't eaten anythin'."

"I'm not hungry."

"In that case—yoink!" Minho grabbed Thomas' plate and dug his fork into the eggs. "No sense in wasting perfectly good food."

"What's on your mind? You've been really out of it since yesterday." Newt frowned. "Does this have anything to do with Friday?"

Thomas felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. He twisted a napkin between his fingers and tried his best to ignore the way his hands trembled harshly or Newt's searching gaze. He licked his cracked lips.

"If… you guys aren't busy… can we… can we have sex today?"

He kept his eyes on the mutilated napkin, picking it apart in nervous energy. He knew he was avoiding the subject, but the thought of bringing it up again; Teresa's advice and Janson's conversation, made his brain hurt. He chanced a glance at the both of them and felt embarrassed at their surprised gaze.

"Okay, if that's what you want."

"I… I wanna be top this time."

Minho's abrupt laughter was like a punch in the gut. He tried to keep the hurt from his expression, but wasn't sure if it was a success.

Newt gave the athlete a lethal glare.

"My bad, I didn't mean to laugh. I just think it's cute." He shrugged. He store a piece of bacon with teeth. "I mean, it's great you wanna pleasure us like that too, but you can't really hold a hard on, Thomas."

Thomas' muscles ached with tension. He tried to keep his face devoid of emotion, but the anxiety and hurt bubbled beneath his mask of indifference. It was impossible to keep his hands from shaking.

"Newt never complained." He mumbled. He felt exhausted again, like the entire ordeal was draining his energy.

Newt's warm hand shrouded his own, long fingers gripping his tightly. The contact eased his anxiety, but not the ache in his chest.

"That's because I'm usually there to keep you hard."

If the world could open up and swallow him whole right about now, Thomas wouldn't have minded. Minho's words pierced through him like knives. And from the looks of it, Newt noticed.

"That's enough, Minho." Newt snapped, his expression hard. "If Tommy wants to top then he tops."

"He can top you maybe." Minho shrugged. "But he's not doing me. I'll get bored."

Newt's grip on Thomas' hand was so tight the circulation was lost. The rest of his body burned hotly in embarrassment and shame. The migraine was back with vengeance.

"I'm sorry?" Newt hissed dangerously. "You'll get bored?!"

Minho's brows furrowed, guilt flashing in his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"Then tell us what you did mean, Minho. Please clarify for your sake."

"Look, if Thomas wants to take initiation during sex then I'm all for it, but face the facts, he has trouble. He needs pain to get off and, sorry for saying it, but whatever method you're using on him isn't always fool proof, Newt. If Thomas wants to top me, you're gonna have to hurt him to keep him going."

Newt's mouth flew open in retaliation but Thomas rose to his feet, silencing them both.

"Okay," He breathed, voice quiet. "Sorry I asked. Fuck me whichever way you want to."

"No." They answered in unison. Minho and Newt exchanged identical expressions of surprise. Thomas would have found it funny if the whole conversation hadn't made him feel like the worst person in the world.

He frowned, hurt and confused by their refusal. But more importantly, he was tired. If they had sex or not, he planned on sleeping for eternity.

"So none of you want to?"

"No." Minho clarified. "Thomas, look at yourself. You're tired, stressed and you're probably getting sick again. What you need is rest, not sex."

He set down a couple of bills for their breakfast and grabbed his jacket from the bench. "Come on, we're taking you home so you can rest. When you start to feel better again, we'll talk about you topping me, okay?"

Newt helped Thomas into his sweater just as Minho collected their trash. Newt led him to the doors, hands still connected and dragged him along into the chill autumn morning. Minho wrapped a careful arm around his waist and together, they returned to the dorm they called home.

Thomas slept through his classes that Monday. He ignored his boyfriends' inquiries of his whereabouts and drifted in and out of sleep. He was still in bed when Newt returned and remained so when Minho came back soon after. He ignored their cajoling for food, registered their pleased to get him up and moving. He only moved to expel his body fluids, and despite Newt's hopeful expression, he collapsed in bed soon after.

They spooned him from all sides that night; Newt flushed tight behind him while Minho held him to his chest. It was easier to sleep in their embrace. His dreams were a lot more pleasant as well.

They stayed with him on Tuesday.

When it became apparent Thomas didn't plan on moving for anything, Minho and Newt decided class was just not that important.

Newt refused to let him sleep the day away, however, so he pulled out their literature book and read to him their assigned stories while Minho dug around the kitchenette for something to feed the boy.

"I don't like Edgar Allan Poe," Minho grumbled once Newt had finished their latest assignment. "His work is so damn depressing."

"That is what he's famous for." Thomas quipped.

Newt chuckled. He brushed aside the boy's bangs, his fingers surprisingly cold against Thomas' skin. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Good that," Minho returned to the bed, a bowl of chips in hand. "'Cuz a depressed Thomas is almost as bad as Poe's stories." He held out the bowl to Thomas and couldn't keep the elation from his face when Thomas grabbed a handful of chips.

Newt gave up an exaggerated sigh. "The first time you're eating in two days and it's something grossly unhealthy." He ran his fingers through Thomas' hair again, his touch tender and lingering. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me unconditionally?"

"I already do."

Minho gagged. "You two make me sick! So gross. Get a room!"

Thomas grinned. "Love you too, Min."

"Yeah, yeah," the athlete chuckled. "Love you shanks too."

Teresa's advice suddenly filtered into his mind again, sobering his mood.

"Can… can we talk?" He asked hesitantly.

"Anything Tommy."

Thomas bit his lip, tearing up a thin layer of skin. He ignored their grimace and pushed on. "I… get jealous… with the way you two act around each other." His tongue ran over the fresh layer of skin nervously. "Sex feels like a chore for you guys and I don't want you to feel like you have to do any favors for me. Even if I don't cum o-or I can't get hard, I'm-I'm happy just being close to you both. If we could… take it slow or cuddle… I'll be really happy." He glanced up at them, surprised by the emotion on their faces.

Minho heaved a heavy sigh, as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Sorry too. Sorry I've been a selfish shank lately. "Especially for Sunday. I didn't mean to go off like I did, I was just… I was just being a slinthead. Thomas, if you ever wanna top any of us, it's perfectly welcomed."

"And if you want to cuddle, that's fine too." Newt added. "We're sorry for not telling you about our experiment or that we had any right to do that in the first place. Your body is your body. We shouldn' have done it and we're gits for thinkin' it."

"But you figured out what was wrong with me—"

"There's nothing wrong with you." The blond snapped. He smiled in apology. "You're perfect the way you are. You like pain and you need it to orgasm, that doesn't mean there's somethin' wrong with you."

"What's wrong," Newt continue, giving them both a meaningful look. "Is us neglecting your aftercare."

Minho had the audacity to look sheepish despite Thomas' confusion.

"Trust us Thomas, once Newt and I figure out what exactly we have to do with the aftercare stuff, we're gonna make you feel so good, you won't remember that we're all a bunch of bumbling shanks."

Thomas burst into laughter despite the heat of embarrassment. He pulled them both into a tight hug and kissed them tenderly on the head.

"Thank you." He sniffed, surprised by the swelling of emotion in his throat. "I really love you guys."

"We love you too Thomas, but please do us all a favor and take a damn shower!"

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