I didn't plan on writing explicit smut for this story even though I did have a scene in mind that was more important to the plot, but this? This just kind of happened. So I went with it.

Warning(s): First half is smut

Part XII

The shower had been a waste in Thomas' opinion. He returned to the dorm after a fifteen minute shower, only to be greeted by the sight of Minho, stark naked and sprawled languidly on Newt's bed, his length hard and dripping from the strokes he made leisurely. Newt stood off to the side, seemingly unaffected by Minho's nudity or by what the athlete was doing. It took a bit of cajoling, but Thomas joined him on Newt's bed, excited yet anxious.

Taking Minho for the first time was about as exciting as their first threesome. He felt proud for making the athlete writhe and moan the way he did, but his elation and ecstasy grew marred with the realization he would not reach completion. He'd been resigned to his acceptance. As long as Minho felt fulfilled, Thomas didn't mind. That is, until Newt, who'd done nothing but stroke his own erection as he watched, finally pressed a slick finger into his entrance.

(When had he moved? Thomas could have sworn he was still sitting on the bottom bunk.)

The room was filled with the chorus of their grunts and moans. Minho twisted into the sheets, gasping and groaning in ways Thomas never heard him do; his length dripping with strings of pre-cum. His muscles constricted around Thomas' dick, pulling him deeper into the athlete while Newt's own meaty length pierced into him with loud, erotic squelches.

Thomas found it hard to breathe.

Newt's thrusts were powerful; the way he rocked his hips gave him enough leverage to strike hard into the brunet's prostate. He pushed deep into the younger boy, the force of his strength echoing down to Minho, who cried out embarrassingly high at a sharp strike to a deliciously sore sweet spot.

"Oh shit! Oh shuck me, do that again!" he gasped, clutching the sheets tight; his thighs trembling. "Thomas, I'm so close-!"

Thomas rocked hard against him, relishing the breathy, mewling noises of Minho's pleading and the breathless chuckle Newt did in response to the high keening noises of their beloved Track Star. Minho's tight warmth constricting all around him and Newt's thick length hammering into him made Thomas' nerves scream in pleasure. He felt like his whole body was on fire; his senses on overload. He wanted to stop, to relish the closeness of both his lovers and to hang onto the burning heat pooling into the pit of his stomach, but Minho continued to suck him in with Newt pushing along the way.

He felt Newt's hands find their way to his hips again, the digits still slick from lube and sweat. Sometimes, the blond would hold him tight and ram the hardest he possibly could into Thomas; other times, those long, slender fingers would wander across his skin, pinching his nipples or leaving red, angry marks across his pale, mole speckled backside. Sometimes, those fingers would find their way into his hair. Newt would pull him back for a kiss or leave love bites on his skin; other times, it was Minho, pulling him close, biting his flesh whenever Newt couldn't.

Whatever they did, they always found a way to keep Thomas in a haze of ecstasy – and he was grateful for it.

Loved them dearly because of it.

Now, with Minho's face partially buried into a pillow to muffle his screams and Thomas barely holding on to his sanity, there wasn't much touching on either of their parts.

Minho's orgasm exploded onto the sheets without warning, the older boy's voice a strangled cry as his breath was squeezed from his lungs. Thomas barely had any time to process what had happened when Newt gripped onto his hips again and pummeled into his prostrate like a jack hammer. He shrieked, his vision going white as his climax slammed into him like a freight train. Newt milked the rest of his cum onto Minho's stomach, his palm growing slick from the ringlets of spunk that poured out of the younger boy in what seemed like a never ending stream.

Newt came into him barely a second afterwards with a heavy grunt. He pumped the rest of his seed into Thomas, his thrusts in tune to stroking Thomas' length.

Thomas collapsed on top of Minho afterwards, exhausted and sticky; his body sore and breathless. Newt remained buried inside him, the feeling weird now that the heat was passing, yet the fullness was enough to keep him from complaining. (If only Newt hadn't disconnected him from Minho, they would have all been tethered together by him.)

Minho draped his arms lazily around Thomas, peppering his abused neck with tender, feather light kisses.

"Fuck. I love you shanks." He breathed. He reached out blindly for Newt and found the boy's sweaty hand. He held him tightly, their fingers interlacing. "That… was amazing."

"Y-yeah…" Thomas sighed. "But this part is great too."

"Bloody hell," Newt murmured distractedly.

Both boys tensed.

"What's wrong?"

"I forgot to wear a condom." Newt grumbled. "Fuck."

Thomas and Minho couldn't help but laugh.

Thomas was on cloud nine. His body was still sore from their earlier shenanigans, but the sickness he'd been feeling the last few days seemed to dissipate like smoke. He had never felt so happy.

He was tempted to text Teresa about his successful conversation with his boyfriends but thought better of it. As close as they used to be as children, Thomas didn't feel comfortable sharing his personal business. It'd been uncomfortable enough the first time talking to her about his relationship, he didn't want to have to go through the experience again with something more intimate.

He was on his way down the hall to collect a few snacks from the cafeteria when he collided painfully into another body. He already knew who it was before his eyes fell on the boy in question.

"Gally please, we have to stop meeting like this." He grinned.

Gally scowled in displeasure. He brushed the front of his clothes as though Thomas' collision left a sizeable stain on his shirt and crossed his arms in an attempt at intimidation. He was a tall boy and rather burly; he had the physique to try out for the football team, but Gally didn't bother with sports. Instead, he used his frame to intimidate his inferiors, but Thomas didn't fear him. He never would.

"Watch where you're going shank, is that so hard to do?" He was met with a snicker. Gally's hard gaze turned inquisitive. He zeroed in on Thomas' neck, his eyebrows arching into his hairline.

Thomas felt his heart quicken.

"Nice hickey greenie. 'S'plains the good mood. Got laid, eh?"

Thomas' flesh colored hotly. He slapped a hand to the bruise and cursed out Minho and Newt under his breath. Gally's eyes narrowed again.

"I've been hearing a lot of rumors lately about you and your roommates."

"What are we in elementary? You should know better than to believe in rumors, Gally."

The dark haired boy clicked his tongue. "I get we're not friends. I hate you, you hate me, but I respect your work ethic. You're always trying to get the best of me and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun. But all this crazy klunk rumors about you three shanks is concerning."

Thomas failed to keep the surprise off his face, but Gally barreled on, uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Believe me, whatever you three slint-heads do on your own time is your business, but when you walk around flaunting your cuts and bruises like a dumbass shank that you are, I have to intervene."

Thomas opened his mouth to retort but Gally raised a hand to stop him.

"I don't care what your excuses are, Thomas. You three shanks are getting involved in a lifestyle you clearly know nothing about. What's more disappointing is Newt allowing it. I thought he'd be smart enough to know better."

Thomas was stunned. He didn't know what was weirder, Gally actually being concerned about his well-being or Gally knowing what he and his boyfriends were doing. He gawked at the boy, mouth stupidly open and eyes wide. Gally snorted then punched his shoulder.

"OW SHIT GALLY WHAT THE HELL?"

"Stop gawking at me like a moron, shank!" He spat, cheeks tinged pink.

Thomas couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or rage. "That's the last time I talk to you like a civilized human. See you at the exams, shank. Hope ya bomb."

He shoved past him, stalking down the hall with a huff.

"Keep dreaming Gally!" Thomas called, flipping him off despite knowing the boy couldn't see.

He frowned. Great, who else knew about him, Minho and Newt?

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