Dylmas/Newtmas One-Shots

Dylmas - Small Bump

OMG I AM SOOO SLACK AT KEEPING REGULAR UPDATES!!! I honestly don't blame you if you've deleted this from your library, I'd probably do the same :/

Anyways, this one shot will hopefully turn out OK.
Based on: Small Bump by Ed Sheeran

3rd Person POV

*flashback*

Thomas panted, his breath coming in short, sharp intakes, his back arching like a cat's as he felt the tingle of Dylan's lips slowly trailing down his stomach. Soft lips caressing his skin.

His forehead was sticky, dirty blonde hair stuck to it, eyes closed in bliss, mouth parted slightly. Red tinted his whole face, and he felt warm all over, as Dylan's tongue started gliding along the rim of his trousers, teasing the fabric. He shuddered when Dylan's cold fingertips ran up his sides, taking him by surprise.

Looking down to meet Dylan's eyes, Thomas could see the obvious lust clouding his lovers eyes, most likely mirroring his own. But beneath the overwhelming lust, he also found love, pure love. Nodding his head to Dylan, Thomas threw his head back, holding in a deep moan as his boyfriend freed him of his remaining clothing.

*end of flashback*

Thomas lay above the sweat covered bed, his long-term boyfriend hovering over him. Dylan trailed his hands slowly down Thomas' bare arms, tracing every mark on his skin. They didn't need to speak anymore. Their actions clearly showed their true emotions.

Thomas let out a small whimper as Dylan planted a soft, light kiss on his jaw, one hand now tugging gently at his fluffy, blonde hair. Closing his eyes, Thomas felt Dylan moving above his body, leaving small kisses down his front.

When Dylan eventually reached his waist, hooking two fingers under his trousers, Thomas' breathe hitched. Snapping his eyes open, he quickly placed his hand over Dylan's, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Dylan looked up at him questioningly, and when Thomas moved away slightly, worry filled his eyes.

"Tommy?"

"I-I . . . you c-can't!" Thomas stuttered, fear consuming his body. "N-N-No! D-Don't hate me!"

Thomas scurried further away from Dylan, suddenly becoming a terrified young child, as he cowered away to the far end of the bed, his knees tucked up under his chin. Shaking violently, he buried his head into his arms, hiding his face from Dylan.

"Tommy, love, why would I ever hate you?" Dylan asked softly, slowly going to sit in front of Thomas. He rested a hand gently onto Thomas' knee, not wanting to startle him.

"I-I . . . I've ruined your wh-whole life! Y-You'd hate me!" Thomas cried.

"But why, love? How can I hate you? I don't even understand what you've done." Dylan spoke in a light, careful tone, like one you would use when speaking to a small child. Though it wasn't in a patronising way, more in an understanding voice.

"I-I . . . we . . . y-you . . . "

"What?"

"I'm p-pregnant." Thomas spat out, worry laced in his words.