In my dreams I'm dying all the time

[bloodyinspired]

He dreams of being back in the Maze, not in the Glade, but out in the Maze itself, with the light fading. He dreams of walls so high that he can't see the top. In dreams, sometimes, his limp is gone, and he finds himself able to run quicker, but it's never quick enough. Something is chasing him, in the corner of his eye. Griever. Crank. Gilly. Something. Someone.

In his dreams, Newt does the only thing that he can.
He flees.

This time, they're going to catch him; he can already feel that before the toe of his sneaker catches on a tree root and he's falling through space and...

He wakes up, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets and, from the way his ears are ringing, a moment ago, he must have been shouting.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, dragging himself up into a sitting position, pulling up his knees.

Comments

[bloodyinspired]

"I plan to have a long, long time to find out," murmurs Newt, because they've been given this second chance and what he knows is that he's going to grab it as hard as he can with both hands. "Just shut up, okay?" Smiling, he brushes his lips against the tip of Thomas' nose.

[shuck_you]

"Okay." Tonight, he'd listen to Newt. Tonight, he'd let Newt silence him with his lips and his arms and the brush of Newt's hair against his cheek.

Tomorrow, he'd be right back to carrying his guilt around like a scarlet letter but tonight, he'd let himself forget for a few hours, pressed against Newt in the cool darkness.

[bloodyinspired]

That's all that Newt needs to hear before he leans in and kisses Thomas properly, firm and definite, his hand firm on Thomas' arm to remind him that he's right there. For tonight, at least, everything is more than fine.

[shuck_you]

Words are easily misconstrued. They're dangerous and sharp, hurled at someone with the intention of hurting and cutting.

This, though, this is easy. This is emotion, pure and simple. This is something that Thomas wants -- no, this is something that Thomas needs.

When Newt kissed him, Thomas's response was immediate. His world narrowed down to the feel of Newt's lip, soft and pliable against his own mouth and Newt's hand, anchoring him to the world, preventing him from getting lost in his own mess of a head.

[bloodyinspired]

This much, at least, they can both get lost in - but it's not a maze, not really, because they both know their way out. Newt makes a soft sound of urgency in the back of his throat, leaning into the kiss, pressing more urgency.

[shuck_you]

That sound made something coil in his belly, low and quick, and Thomas smothered a moan against Newt's lips. Callused fingers tangled up in Newt's shirt, wondering if there was a way he could take the piece of clothing off without stopping what he was doing.

One thing he could do was push his leg between Newt's, giving him space to move ever closer. Thomas wanted to be all over him, against him, everywhere. He was lost but he was found.

[bloodyinspired]

He loves it when Thomas makes noises like that, when he moans and whimpers. Those are soft sounds and, for a long time, neither of them had time for anything soft. Because soft gets you dead real quick in a place like the Maze. But now, here, now, they're safe. Newt shifts, spreading his thighs to let Thomas slip his legs between them. He presses forward, hips to hips, chest to chest, kissing Thomas s hard as he can.

[shuck_you]

Thomas knew, without any doubt, that he'd never get tired of how this feels. He knew that he'd never get tired of being pressed right against Newt, breathing his breath, sucking his pulse with his lips, and tasting Newt's lips under his.

Thomas rolled them until he was on top, his weight pressing Newt back into the soft mattress beneath them. He sneaked a hand underneath Newt's shirt, fingers grazing over the edges of ribs and down to the jut of his hip.

Another moan, another hidden smile, another kiss.

[bloodyinspired]

Thomas' weight on top of him is comforting and centering, somehow. Thomas' hands on his skin burn as they kiss. Newt pulls at his own shirt, wanting it off, wanting skin to skin.

[shuck_you]

Thomas can help with that. Thomas can definitely help with that. Steady hands reached out, grabbing for the hem of Newt's shirt and tugging it upwards. It meant that he had to pull his mouth away from Newt's for a moment but the trade off would be worth it.

As soon as Newt's belly and chest were exposed, Thomas let go, leaving the rest of the shirt to Newt so he could bend down and press hot, open mouthed kisses against his clavicle and down his side.

[bloodyinspired]

It only takes another moment for Newt to be out of his shirt altogether, dropping it to the side of his bed, pushing his fingers into Thomas' hair as his mouth slips over his skin. Every kiss all that burns. Newt likes to imagine them as leaving marks, each one showing how important it is to be loved.

[shuck_you]

The feeling of Newt's skin underneath his lips, against his chest, beneath his hands made Thomas sigh. The warm breath skimmed across Newt's shoulder and Thomas couldn't help himself being greedy.

He pressed an ear over Newt's heart, listening to the calming thump thump thump that he heard there. He closed his eyes and listened. Every single day, Thomas wondered if this was all a dream. Maybe a part of the Changing and he hadn't woken up yet.

The sound of Newt's heart underneath his ear reassured him. Calmed him. Warmed him.

[bloodyinspired]

Every time they do this, Newt gets distracted by just how lucky he is to have Thomas this close, this ready, this willing. That they are both here and alive. That they found each other in the dark. He pushes his fingers into Thomas' dark hair and cradles his head against his chest. He shifts a little on the mattress, spreading his legs, cradling Thomas' skinny hips between his thighs.

"You okay there, Tommy?"

[shuck_you]

"Just listening," Thomas mumbled, rubbing his cheek against Newt's chest and closing his eyes. When he'd been alone, closing his eyes meant trips back to the Maze, back to the Scorch, back to the death and blood and Changings and screaming.

When he'd opened his eyes, he'd been alone. Not anymore.

Thomas pressed his palm against Newt's side, spreading his fingers out to try and touch as much as he could. He raked his nails lightly down towards Newt's hip while he listened to the soothing beat of Newt's heart.

[bloodyinspired]

The touch of Thomas' nails makes Newt's breath hiss out in a long sigh, his hips shifting slightly. He lifts his head and drops a kiss into Thomas' hair.

"Hear anything interesting?"

[shuck_you]

"Your heart."

He'd considered, briefly, going with the sarcastic response. Maybe he would have made another joke about Newt's looks or how his heart was playing some strange song instead of making the normal, soothing thump thump thump.

He didn't, though. He kept it simple. "It's still beating. I like that."

[bloodyinspired]

"Good that."

There's something so comforting about the weight of Thomas on top of him, the warmth of his skin, the whisper of his breath. Newt strokes his free hand down between Thomas' shoulderblades, thumb rubbing along the knobbles of his spine. "Take your shirt off?"

[shuck_you]

Newt's words are enough to draw Thomas away from the cliff. He'd been on the cusp of sinking back into his guilt, letting it wrap around him like a shroud. The sound of Newt's heart beating and his voice pulled him back from the desire to sink into the void and stay there for awhile.

He pushed himself up slightly, one hand braced on the bed beside Newt's shoulder. His eyes were dark, his smile light and he couldn't resist saying, "What's the magic word?"

[bloodyinspired]

Looking up at Thomas, tilting his head to the side, a smile quirks Newt's mouth.

"Now?" he says, both hands sliding up under Thomas' shirt, finding bare skin over his ribs. "Please?"

[shuck_you]

"You'd be a mad shank if I said neither of those was right, wouldn't you?" Thomas quipped, reaching down to tug his shirt up and over his head.

The act left his hair askew and Thomas brushed it back down after tossing his shirt aside. "Better?"

[bloodyinspired]

"So mad," says Newt, rolling his eyes but then he gets distracted, by Thomas' bare skin, sparse dark hair, the strength of hands and forearms. He bites his lip, tracing the tips of one finger along Thomas' waistband.

"Better. Not all the way, though."

[shuck_you]

"You're a demanding shank, aren't you?" Thomas teased, glancing down at Newt's hands. He couldn't stop the sigh from slipping through his lips, didn't even really mind Newt hearing it, actually.

"Always wanting more," he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss against Newt's soft lips.

[bloodyinspired]

"Would you want me any other way, Greenie?" teases Newt, actually hooking his fingers over elastic, tugging lightly. He lifts his head, pressing up into the kiss, his free hand splayed against Thomas' ribs.

Not more. He wants everything. Everything he missed back in the Maze and the Scorch.

[shuck_you]

"I'd want you any way I could get you," Thomas told him, mumbling the words against Newt's lips and smiling at how that tickled. He pulled back when Newt started tugging and looked down, amused.

"You gonna work some magic and get those off of me while I'm sitting on top of you?" he asked.

[bloodyinspired]

"No," says Newt, grinning up at him. "But if you wanted to get up and taken 'em off yourself, I'd be pretty made up. If you could see your way to that."