0.3 Oh Sweet Revenge

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   Though his vision was a blur, he knew quite well who was hovering over him. He squinted as he gave a groan. Not his usual wake up call, he mused as he placed his bare hand on her shoulder and gave her a light push. She stumbled and frowned whilst Hans gave her an innocent smile. He sat slowly as he rubbed his eyes.

      “Nothing’s bothering me your majesty.” He said groggily as he opened one eye to watch her glower down on him. He smirked. “What time is it?” He yawned as he stretched his arms. This could be fun.

       Nothing, Elsa huffed as she rolled her eyes at the word. Damn it, he was playing her well. “I don’t believe you.” She squinted as she eyed him with a scowl.

      Hans pillowed his arms as he leaned on a post. “Sure, go on waste your time on me.”  He gave her a lop-sided grin as he crossed his feet.

       “I know you’re playing games.” She sighed. “But I guess I won’t have to deal with you the next week since I’m letting the Southern Isles take custody of you. I’m getting married; it wouldn’t be smart to keep a man under Arendelle’s roof. Especially a man with no relation and is capable of taking the throne.” Elsa pursed her lips as she shook her head. “Won’t do,”

       Suddenly piqued, Hans pulled at her dress when she was about to stand up, hard enough to send her falling on top of him. “You can’t marry a man you just met.” He said, unaware that they were currently face to face, only an inch away from each other’s lips.

        Elsa rolled her eyes. “Yes I can.” She said sternly as she tried to pull herself off of Hans, willing herself not to flush. “And who said that I haven’t met him?” She raised a questioning brow at him.

         Hans pulled her back, evading. “Do you even know his foot size?” He asked as he satisfyingly watched Elsa’s brow drop and draw together.

         She frowned. “Foot size does not matter.”

         Hans rolled his eyes. “Do you even know his best friend’s name?” He smirked.

           “Probably John,” She scoffed, defeated. “Could be Peter.”

           Hans sighed. “What if you hate the way he eats? What if you hate the way he sleeps?” He said as he pulled Elsa close. “Elsa, Elsa, Elsa, of all of the people I’ve met, you’re the least I expected to marry someone she just met.” He gave her a knowing smile as he traced her chin with his bare hand.

           Elsa squeezed her eyes shut, finding herself boxed in, defeated by none other than Hans once again. Temper, temper could be very lethal. “You have no business with my personal life. You little son of a–”

   Her lips met his as he pulled her abruptly to him. There was no patience, no carefulness, no fondness, but only temper. Temper had reigned as he moved his lips, guided her, tasted her and relished the sensations he had never felt before. Slowly he closed his eyes as hers remained open, wide and showed surprise. Heat rose up to her cheeks as chills ran down her spine, slowly tugging the strings that have not – and were alien to her – been explored by anyone. She had the urge to pull away, to slap him and cast him off shore, but instead she stayed still, perfectly still as she watched him lead her into the dance. His elbow propped him up, surprisingly supported both of them as his hand explored the depths of her soft hair, tugged and finally freed the braid. His lips moved wonders as Elsa gave into oblivion and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck. However, Elsa made no attempt of pulling her body closer to his, pressing herself, sealing in the intimacy. She kissed back, but only briefly, afraid she didn’t know how to, did not know how it worked.

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