Kisses {Newtmas}

Kisses

Newt kisses like he's certain he'll never get to do it again. He presses himself close to Thomas and holds him tight. The subtle tremble of Newt's hands as he tries to keep them still is something Thomas is sure one could only notice if they were as close to Newt in every sense as Thomas was.

Newt kissed like it was the only thing he needed. Like Thomas was the only thing he needed. The trembling hands grew desperate, clinging tightly to wherever they could grab hold of. Though Thomas wasn't as tall as Newt, he still had enough strength to keep Newt's hips pinned to the wall.

Sometimes, Newt kissed like it was the one thing that could save his life, soft and open and accepting. He'd lay under Thomas, letting him kiss his cure into his mouth. What it was curing was a mystery, but it kept him alive. It kept him breathing and grasping to continue to do so.

Thomas kissed like he had all the time in the world. Even as time ran out. He held Newt's face like a treasure and kissed him slowly, as though the world wasn't crumbling around them.

Thomas kissed like he was terrified. Lips firm against Newt's, hands holding him just as tightly as he was being held. As though he was afraid that the second he let go, the world would crumble beneath his feet.

Newt kissed like he was saying goodbye.

Thomas loved kissing Newt, but he hated goodbyes.