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Newt was tired. He refused to deal with anything he didn’t need to; the only thing he seriously craved was sleep. He wasn’t even sure how he greeted Thomas, if he even did; he went straight to the bed, trailing clothes behind him haphazardly and crashed.
Insisting touches woke him up too soon and he batted the offensive hands away, curling into a ball and throwing the blanket over his head protectively.
“Newt,” Thomas voice flowed into his cocoon and Newt groaned, shaking his head a no.
“Not now,” he added verbally when he felt a tug at the cover. “Let me sleep.”
“Newt, c’mon,” another whine and he sighed, finally turning around to stare at his boyfriend unhappily.
“What can’t you understand about let me sleep?”
“You’re always asleep lately,” Thomas pouted, his hands grabby and Newt kept his defensive stance on. “We don’t even have sex that often anymore.”
“I’m tired,” the blond grumbled.
“You’re always tired,” came a reply and Newt smacked his hands with a frown.
“Well, deal with it then!” he hissed and Thomas’ face turned stony.
“Fine,” he said only and was out of the bed before Newt could add anything else, door to the bedroom closing abruptly behind him with a loud bang. Newt stared at the spot for several more minutes before he turned back to his side, lying down with a cringe.
Was he really neglecting him too much? Had the sex started to get rare? Newt couldn’t help it, he had too much work now, three clients at once, the proof reading and editing ate his time like a hungry bear, and he came back tired and without any mood to do the do. All he was able to commence included sleeping or napping or just resting somewhere warm and comfortable, turning his brain off for a while, not stressing.
He did refuse Thomas’ advances few times, he admitted. Was it already too much? Did Thomas start to get fed up with him? He tried to get back to his apartment during this hectic period, but Thomas insisted that he should spend more time in his flat instead, and Newt didn’t fight it.
He tossed and turned in his bed for several more minutes, then groaned and got up. His body felt terrible, heavy and unsated, but the sleep was suddenly out of reach and he just couldn’t stay in the bed any longer.
Might as well go after him.
He wobbled out of the room unsteadily, closing the door behind him with an inaudible click and peeked into the living room, just to find it empty.
“Tommy?” he called for the writer quietly, but no response came. The flat stayed silent and abandoned, and even though Newt looked into the kitchen and bathroom, he found no one there, not even a note.
“He went out?” he mused aloud, a little nervous and padded towards the couch, curling at its corner tiredly. The quietness felt unnatural, so he rather turned the TV on, leaving it on the last program Thomas watched (National Geographic? Really?) and dozed off a little again.
A loud bang woke him up like a kick from a horse and he almost jumped out of his skin at the noise that followed - crashing and stomping, until Thomas appeared in the living room, looking seriously dishevelled and sexed up.
“Thomas?” he croaked out, staring at him in shock and the writer only grumbled something under his breath, smearing a lipstick that stayed on the corner of his jaw away.
“What the-,”
“I was horny,” Thomas uttered like it solved anything. “If you won’t help me out, have to find someone who will.”
“Are you bloody shitting me?” Newt gasped, not believing his ears.
“I told you I’m insatiable,” the brunet only shrugged and strutted towards the kitchen, pulling a bottle of beer out of it before adding easily: “Deal with it.”
Newt wanted to shout at him, maybe hit him, but nothing came. He stared and stared, absolutely struck and a heavy weight of guilt crashed down on him like a stone.
“What…?” he tried to form a question, something, but Thomas only looked at him with an annoyed expression.
“I’m seriously tired of this already,” the writer said matter-of-factly. “No sex for two weeks? That’s insane. It’s just not working out.”
“Are you… leaving me?” Newt felt his throat swelling, a bitter taste flooding his mouth. His body hurt, his chest ached, and loud ringing filled his ears. With a single yes coming from the brunet’s mouth Newt crashed and burned.
“Newt!” a violent shake woke him up suddenly and he opened his eyes and breathed deep before orienting in the situation, staring at the face of Thomas above him, holding his shoulders.
“Newt, oh my god, what happened?” the brunet breathed out, holding him firmly and Newt realized he is shaking like a leaf in the wind, his body in a painful spasm. Thomas was there, sitting next to him, and he reacted automatically, throwing himself on him, hugging him so strongly it had to hurt.
“Please, don’t leave me,” he hiccupped, his voice terribly weak and quiet. “Please, I’ll do better, please, please.”
“Oh my god,” he heard Thomas exclaim and the embrace tightened around him as well, the writer caging him against his chest tightly. “Newt, good grief. I’m not leaving you, please calm down. C’mon, love, calm down, stop shaking.”
“You said you are,” the blond couldn’t stop the sob coming up his throat. “You wanted to-,”
“No, no, no,” Thomas started to pet his hair comfortingly, kissing his temple and cheek. “I’m never leaving, never, trust me, just calm down, take a deep breath.”
Newt buried his face into Thomas’ shirt, gulping the air down like a drowning man.
“It’s all good now, shhh,” Thomas cradled him carefully, caressing his back reassuringly. “C’mon, lie down. You need to sleep a bit more, you’re too stressed.”
Newt didn’t budge and Thomas kissed his forehead gently.
“Or we can sleep like this, just let me lie down,” the writer suggested in a soft tone and Newt finally moved, releasing Thomas a fraction and letting him to slid under covers with him, pulling him against his chest protectively.
Newt took another deep breath, Thomas’ smell filling his senses and calming him down. The warmth cradled him, lulling him back to sleep, but he stubbornly held himself awake, clutching the shirt of his boyfriend tightly.
“Bloody nightmares,” he mumbled after a second, the reality crashing back to his consciousness, relieving him steadily from the spasm.
“You were trashing around like mad,” he heard Thomas rumble and he pressed his ear against his chest to hear the voice from there. “Want to talk about it?”
“No,” Newt replied immediately.
“Alright,” Thomas chimed, running his fingers through Newt’s hair lovingly. “But you know I’d listen.”
“I know,” Newt nodded.
“Love you,” Thomas whispered to his hair, kissing it. “So, so much.”
Newt tightened his hold, calming down the surge of emotions rumbling inside of him sinisterly.
“Even that we don’t have sex every day?” he asked in a small voice and Thomas chuckled, his hands roaming over Newt’s back gently.
“That’s what the problem was?” he asked calmly and Newt refused to confirm it. “Because seriously. That’s like… the least of my worries. You work too much, really. Stop worrying yourself about stupid stuff like my sex drive.”
“You hadn’t denied it,” Newt mumbled and Thomas’ hand stopped for a fraction of a second.
“Newt,” he said his name in a serious tone. “I’m really, really not after sex only. I love making love to you. But I love everything that includes you. What I hate is to see you like this, stressed like crazy and not getting enough sleep.”
“It has been two weeks,” Newt piped still.
“Are you counting?”
“You did,” Newt replied with a cringe, remembering the dream-Thomas spitting it to his face angrily. “And I know, I know I have been so out of it lately, and-,”
“Shush,” Thomas suddenly pulled away, looking at Newt with a serious expression. “Give me a kiss.”
“Wha-okay,” Newt quickly leaned up and pressed his lips against Thomas’, falling into a perfect rhythm immediately. It felt nice and warm, and he was comfortable and safe, especially when Thomas’ arms pulled him back close and his lips kept on a slow, deliberate pace – not pushing, only savouring.
They kissed for what felt like hours, slowly pecking or gently touching, and Newt let out a content sigh when Thomas nuzzled his neck after, kissing it reassuringly.
“I already told you I’m not letting you to leave me, yeah?” he heard how the writer said, his voice muffled.
“Yeah.”
“I mean it.”
“Alright,” Newt only nodded shortly. “I’ll hold you onto that.”
“You better,” Thomas chuckled and Newt finally drifted back to sleep. His dreams hadn’t bothered him again.