Newt looked up at you from his bed, a clear expression of surprise playing out across his face when he saw you standing by his door. His hair was mussed, his clothes rumpled, and a pen hung from his mouth. The scene was so utterly Newt. His dark eyes slowly rose to meet yours, drinking in the sight of you in your lose fitting, sheer clothing that the shaft had sent up for you to wear during the night. It was completely dark outside, and you knew no one else was awake. It was a habit of Newt’s to stay up later than everyone else while he was in his room studying the maps, creating his own diagrams, relentlessly trying to figure a way out. You weren’t surprised to find him doing just that when you walked in. He wasn’t even undressed or underneath the covers; instead, he was sitting with one leg pulled closely to him and the other dangling lazily over the edge of the bed. The diagrams he had drawn were fanned out in front of him. If you focused hard enough, you could make out his messy scrawl all over the pages, the intricate workings of his mind displayed in ink.
Newt cleared his throat, snapping you back to reality. “What-what are you doing here?” His voice broke when he spoke and he avoided eye contact. You saw one of his hands clench slightly beside him, a thing that he did whenever he was restraining himself from doing something.
The two of you had been together before, but an enormous fight had broken out between you two that had ended with two broken people. You had gone into the maze with the other runners despite Newt’s protests. You felt so useless as the only girl, and you wanted to make something out of your speed. So you snuck out with Minho and Thomas one night, and as a result, almost got yourself killed. You had never seen Newt so angry before. He had grabbed each of the guys, one in each hand, and thrown them against the wall. It took 5 gladers to hold Newt back before he finally calmed a bit and went to the Medjacks to see you. It was then that the two of you got into a massive argument. He thought you were dead and you knew that he didn’t believe you could handle yourself. The fight ended with you screaming for him to get out of your life. You didn’t know that by doing that, it would be as if you ended your life.
You missed him. You missed his touch, you missed his voice, his kindness, his humour, his ways in bed—you missed him. And so here you were, lost, vulnerable, and once again finding yourself going back with Newt.
You didn’t say anything, you didn’t need to. You just walked over to Newt’s bed, gently pushed his papers to the floor, and slid onto the bed so you were directly in front of him. Newt understood. He always did when it came to you.
“Please,” you whispered, and it was all you needed to do.
Newt made a sound in the back of his throat, a sound broken resolve and hidden desire. He crumbled in front of you, his walls falling and the ice melting from his eyes. Newt pulled you to him, hooking his arms underneath your shins and yanking slightly so that your legs were behind his torso and your chest was touching his. And then he was kissing you. You melted against him, allowing his soft lips to take control over you, to dominate you. His hands were light on your skin, gentle. You felts his fingers stroke your legs hesitantly, the feeling barely there. He was holding himself back, as if he weren’t sure if you were real. You dug your hands into his hair, pulling him harder against you. He let out a small groan against your lips. This was real. You were real. And then there was nothing holding him back. His hands traveled from your legs up to your thighs, his thumb pressing gently at the apex. You shuddered against him, but he kept on moving his hands up your body. They slid up along the smooth skin of your waist, up to your breasts, and then along the sensitive skin of your back as he ran them back down to the waist band of your panties. Newt applied the slightest bit of pressure to the soft spot on your hipbone, smirking just a little bit against your lips when you bucked against him, a light gasp falling from your parted lips. Newt’s mouth broke from yours and drifted down to your jaw line, ghosting along the skin there. Goosebumps erupted along your skin where his mouth had left a burning trail. Newt nipped lightly at your throat, causing you to mutter a curse underneath your breath. You pressed yourself against him, a burning sensation growing in the pit of your stomach.
