Trials and Tribulations

Part XI

His muscles wouldn't stop trembling. The perpetual sickness in his stomach kept Thomas from enjoying breakfast with his lovers. It wasn't usual they spent Sunday morning like this. They had far too much to do, with homework and exams, yet Minho and Newt didn't seem at all bothered by the work load. In fact, they seemed relaxed, almost happy to be able to eat breakfast like this.

Thomas felt envious. He really wanted to enjoy his bacon and eggs too.

Newt nudged him gently. "You okay? You haven't eaten anythin'."

"I'm not hungry."

"In that case—yoink!" Minho grabbed Thomas' plate and dug his fork into the eggs. "No sense in wasting perfectly good food."

"What's on your mind? You've been really out of it since yesterday." Newt frowned. "Does this have anything to do with Friday?"

Thomas felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. He twisted a napkin between his fingers and tried his best to ignore the way his hands trembled harshly or Newt's searching gaze. He licked his cracked lips.

"If... you guys aren't busy... can we... can we have sex today?"

He kept his eyes on the mutilated napkin, picking it apart with nervous energy. He knew he was avoiding the subject, but the thought of bringing it up again; Teresa's advice and Janson's conversation, made his brain hurt. He chanced a glance at the both of them and felt embarrassed at their surprised gaze.

"Okay, if that's what you want."

"I... I wanna be top this time."

Minho's abrupt laughter was like a punch in the gut. He tried to keep the hurt from his expression but wasn't sure if it was a success.

Newt gave the athlete a lethal glare.

"My bad, I didn't mean to laugh. I just think it's cute." He shrugged. He store a piece of bacon with teeth. "I mean, it's great you wanna pleasure us like that too, but you can't really hold a hard-on, Thomas."

Thomas' muscles ached with tension. He tried to keep his face devoid of emotion, but the anxiety and hurt bubbled beneath his mask of indifference. It was impossible to keep his hands from shaking.

"Newt never complained." He mumbled. He felt exhausted again like the entire ordeal was draining his energy.

Newt's warm hand shrouded his own, long fingers gripping his tightly. The contact eased his anxiety, but not the ache in his chest.

"That's because I'm usually there to keep you hard."

If the world could open up and swallow him whole right about now, Thomas wouldn't have minded. Minho's words pierced through him like knives. And from the looks of it, Newt noticed.

"That's enough, Minho." Newt snapped, his expression hard. "If Tommy wants to top then he tops."

"He can top you maybe." Minho shrugged. "But he's not doing me. I'll get bored."

Newt's grip on Thomas' hand was so tight the circulation was lost. The rest of his body burned hotly in embarrassment and shame. The migraine was back with vengeance.

"I'm sorry?" Newt hissed dangerously. "You'll get bored?!"

Minho's brows furrowed, guilt flashing in his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"Then tell us what you did mean, Minho. Please clarify for your sake."

"Look, if Thomas wants to take initiation during sex then I'm all for it, but face the facts, he has trouble. He needs pain to get off and, sorry for saying it, but whatever method you're using on him isn't always foolproof, Newt. If Thomas wants to top me, you're gonna have to hurt him to keep him going."