Newt/Thomas Sangster One Shots (warning: smut)

One Shot #13 ~ Essay

"Bloody hell," Thomas whined frustratedly.
"What?!" I looked up from my desk.
"You invited me over to yours and now you're doing homework!" He laughed.

"I did say I'd have to do it, and anyway— I'll only be another half an hour, so shush!" I said, tossing a pencil at him, hitting him lightly on the forehead.

"Ouch." He sulked.

I got back to my work, beginning to write yet again, the sound of only pen to paper filling the room. I'd won this little compromise for now, and although I was annoyed at him for making me feel bad, I knew what he wanted.

"Are you almost done?" He asked no more than a minute after.
"No, Thomas." I replied.
"Well...can't you do it later?" He said desperately.
"Why?!" I laughed.
"Because...," He said, and I sighed in mocking frustration. He was making this more difficult than it had to be.

I heard his footsteps leaving the room, or at least that's what I could hear through my right headphone.

I suddenly felt warm hands on my shoulders, rubbing them. Thomas pressed himself against my back, a hard bulge rubbing against my neck.

"C'mon love, just twenty minutes." He whispered into my ear, still rubbing my shoulders, beginning to kiss the nape of my neck.

"Thomas, I want to but I really need to get this finished. Seriously, it's in tomorrow and I don't think I want to see how mean my professor can be." I reasoned.

"Just do it after...please, I need you," He lulled into my neck, the vibrations sending shivers through me body.

"I want to do it now," I stood my ground, despite the dripping temptation.

"Alright." He said before stepping back into my bed, switching on his phone and procrastinating.

"Thank you." I said finally before resuming my work.

The scratching of my pen on the paper became the only sound present as I regained my rhythmic scribbling of words. I wanted to finish this as quick as possible so that I could let Thomas do what he wanted to me. I wanted so badly just to ditch it and attack him from across the room, to just let him take control. But I couldn't. I needed to discipline myself.

No matter how much the sound of him groaning and breathing from across the room, the realisation that he was trying to get my attention by stroking himself fervently, the glimpse in the mirror I stole of him on my bed with his hands down his pants turned me on, I had to try and carry on.

"Thomas, stop it." I laughed nervously, knowing he was winning me over.

I suddenly felt my chair moving backwards, causing me to drop my pen.

"What're you playing at?" I questioned, watching as he slid under my desk and poked his head up in front of my chair to face me.

"What're you playing at?" He teased.
"I'm-" I tapped his nose with my pen, "-trying to work here."
"And I'm trying to make you come so hard that your legs shake around me, until the neighbours learn my name," he said with dark eyes and a devilish smirk.

"You're mental, you know that?" I tutted and began to work again, trying to keep my cool as he parted my legs with his hands, sliding my underwear down my legs and onto the floor.

I didn't make a sound. I didn't want him to get satisfied. I didn't want him to get what he wanted.

However, as his fingers and his mouth pressed against my core, and I felt the wetness pooling on my chair, I found it ever more difficult to resist. I found myself getting stuck on simple words because I couldn't concentrate.