a Whole Lotta Smut

relaxing (minewt)

It was the third night in a row that Minho stayed late in the map room. Newt wouldn't have cared, except for the fact that his friend promised him a round of cards, and the blonde wasn't about to make the mistake of playing with alby again. Sox as the rest of the glade settled down for the night, Newt made his way to the map room.

Only to find Minho, head back, eyes closed and cock out. He was biting his lip ad his hand lived up and down in a steady rythm.

"Wow." Was all Newt could say, because of the sight before him and the dream come true of finally seeing it.

Minho's head snapped up and his hand stilled before both hands flew to cover his sex.

Newt couldn't remeber ever seeing the Asian boy blush before. Not once, even whe the 'do you remember how girls...' conversation turned perverse and now, he didnt just blush he went beet red. The color spread from his cheeks to his ears, forehead, nose and neck.

"Shuck, Newt!" Minho said, fumbling to tuck himself back in his trousers. It didn't work so well, since his member which was standing at the attention, couldn't fit in his runnie-undies in its current state. "Y-you're supposed to be... I thought I told you to go relax, Newt." His words stumbled over eachother at the sudden embarrassment.

"You also told me you were going to play a game of cards with me." Newt said. He smirked, then leaned casually against the wall. He had the advantage here, and he'd be damned if he didn't try to turn it in his favor. "And instead... well, I guess you're the one relaxing, huh?"

"Newt..." Minho said, the blonde was pretty sure he meant it as a warning, but it sounded more like a plea.

"This what you been doin' in here the last three days?" Newt took a step forward. "And I thought you were studyin' the bloody maps."

Another step, and another. Minho pressed himself back into the chair as Newt got closer. Mere feet separated them now, and Minho didn't take his wide, embarrassed eyes off Newt's face. For that, Newt was glad, because if he looked down, he would have found the bulge in Newt's trousers that betrayed his intentions.

"Ya know, if you were this buggin' frustrated." Newt said, drawing the words out and pausing to lick his lips. He let his gaze move from Minho's half covered crotch, up his body to his lips and flushed face, then met his eyes. He leaned forward, using the armrest of the chair for support. "You could have asked."

Minho froze. He stopped trying to shove his manhood into his trousers, and for a moment even his rapid breathing (panic? Arousal? Newt only felt a little guilty for hoping it was both) ceased.

The keeper's breathing restarted, and he licked his lips.

"Really?"

"Really." Newt said, then sank to his knees. As he kneeled, Minho's breath caught, smaller then a gasp but it sounded oh so loud in the big, hollow room.

He grabbed Minho's wrist, and then the other, pulling his hands away from his groin. Minho didn't stop him, just let Newt place his hand on the armrest before gripping them tightly with his fingers.

Newt locked their eyes before wrapping his fingers around Minho's shaft. The runner's breath hitched as his head snapped back, eyes rolling back in his head in pleasure. After a few strokes, he let out a loud moan, but seemed to regain enough composure to lift his head and pay attention to what Newt was doing.

Maybe he just got off on watching.

"Feels better than when you do it yourself, dosen't it?" Newt asked

"Y-yeah." Minho said in between breaths. Newt felt his own member twitch at the other boy's deep, vibrating voice, stumbling. There was something insanely arousing about watch the cool, calm and collected exterior that the asian boy so often exuded come crashing down. And it was all because of Newt-the stuttering, the blushing... all things Minho would never normally allow anyone to see, things that Newt got a front row ticket to tonight.