<<published 17•Apr•2015>>
Ok. This is HEATED so if you don't like these kinds of scenes DON'T read. If you're gonna pass sarcastic, and/or irritating comments, then just don't read it. Bc RLY, if you don't like heated scenes then what the heck are you doing here in the first place, right?
Thanks!
And I know I know I haven't updated in months ACK! My apologies:(
<<Love you minHOES Who are so awesomely supportive of me all the time :") patiently waiting for chapters!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH :)>>
"Whaddup, shuck face?" Minho grins, cocking his head to one side and fixing you with one of his most attractive grins. He's just finished his shower, and has come looking for you. Both of you are now inside the room, him in a clean white cotton shirt and jeans, and you in your regular attire that has finally dried after a day of sunning. "You've been quiet the whole day."
Because I'm thinking about that shank Teresa, you think to yourself.
But what comes out of your mouth is a little grunt.
"Nah..." You focus on the walls that surround the glade, trying to follow the tendrils of ivy with your eyes. "Just thinking."
He makes a face and tilts his water flask, chugging down the remnants so fast, droplets of water start streaming down his chin. When the pig you call your boyfriend finally drains the water, he swipes the tanned back of his hand across his mouth.
You wouldn't mind replacing your lips with his hand though.
And there it is again. The little urge you get to slam into him and kiss him every time he does something remotely sexy.
"Thinking about what? The cliff thing with the griever?"
You sigh, sending an elbow into his ribs. "I guess." The lie comes out smooth. "Hey, do you want to get me water?"
Your mind is made up. You've been thinking about the whole Teresa issue the entire day, and you're determined to forget all your insecurities and every single doubt you might have about her. It's time to grow up and make friends.
After all, a little voice nags, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
You frown and shove that voice to the back of your mind. You're going to be mature. Or at least try to. No point harbouring secret grudges against Teresa when she hasn't done anything at all. When you think about it, you're being the overly possessive, overly paranoid, distrusting individual, and it's pretty ridiculous to dislike Teresa when there is practically no basis at all.
When Minho goes and gets more water, and hopefully manages to sneak a snack out of frypan's kitchen, you'll go talk to Teresa. Try to get to know her better. Start over.
She's the only other female in this glade anyway. Might as well attempt to get along.
"And since when did I become your slave?"
You whack him across his upper arm and smile up at him angelically. "Since you professed your undying love for me and asked me to be your girlfriend."
"If I recall correctly, you said I love you first." He sticks his tongue out at you which draws a prolonged 'Awwwww' out of your mouth.
"You're adorable. Are you sure I'm not the girlfriend of a five year old?" You smirk, going on your tiptoes to pat his head. He swats your hand away and raises his eyebrows.
"Adorable?" He cocks his head to the side, eyeing you dangerously, daring you to repeat that.
"Yeah. Adooraaableee." You raise your eyebrows and lean closer. "What you gonna do about it, shank?"
His mischievous stare turns devilishly cheeky as he steps alarmingly close, wrapping his arms around your waist and slipping his hands into the back pockets of your pants. "Nothin'. Just gonna make you eat your words."
Ironically, the warmth he radiates just makes you shiver, the white hot heat building up in your stomach vaporising into a tingling chill that creeps up your arms and raises your hair. He has that effect on you.
"Eat what words?" You tease, giving him a coy smile.
You realise his hair is still damp from his shower as he presses his forehead to yours. Honestly, wet hair isn't helping your case. It's just fueling your imagination with regards to Minho in the shower.
With soap and water, all sudsy... shuckin' hell, you really have to stop.
You've not done this in some time, though, and it's strangely comforting, to be so physically close to him. He makes you feel safe. Protected. Wanted.
But he makes you feel needed.
Badly needed.
You know that the close proximity is allowing him a fantastic view down your shirt, and he's totally taking advantage of the situation and perving on you.
Not like he hasn't seen me before though, you tell yourself.
Stepping nearer, you close the tension riddled gap between the two of you, nudging your hips, together forcefully.
The feeling of him pressed up against you is electrifyingly good, and it takes you everything not to lose control.
The control that's slipping right out of your fingers as he slips his hands up your torso, sloping over your body and fiddling with the top two buttons of your shirt, undoing them with ease, his eyes locked with yours the whole time.
His hands hover over your chest as he fiddles with the buttons, and your gut twists, your eyes squeezing shut, silently willing him to get on with it.
"Is this cute?" His voice is low, almost a rasp. His face is so near that you have to open your eyes, which lock with his own, dark with need.
You don't respond, and he leans down to plant a kiss on your collar bone, kissing a trail up to your neck, hands gripping the hem of your shirt. His lips anchor themselves to the crook of your neck.
Every time his fingers brush against your skin, goosebumps erupt and you feel something inside you flutter in giddy pleasure.
"Extremely." Is the only word you can choke out, while his breath fans your face. He's still keeping the eye connection, and it's getting increasingly difficult for you not to let your eyes flutter shut. His gaze alone is turning you on.
Not good. Abort mission. Abort abort.
Honestly, why is he such a panty dropper?
This would be so much easier if he wasn't so freaking attractive.
"Is this cute?" His nimble fingers find their way up your shirt - a very familiar route - and fumble with the straps of your bra. It's the one you came up in the box with. The tacky one, with terrible material and flimsy straps.
When they don't comply, he pops them. His hands travel up and he presses his rough palms against your bare flesh. The feeling alone of his calloused skin against your body makes you arch right into his hands.
As he proceeds to give you exactly what you want, exactly where you want it, he asks in almost a whisper. "Still think I'm six?"
"Five, actually." You force yourself to speak and your voice comes out strained. Even though you're locking your fingers behind his neck and tiptoeing, your lips only manage to come into contact with his jaw. Your bodies are mashed up against each other, his hands the only things between the two of you, and even then, all they're doing is making it difficult for you to breathe...
For you to think.
All you know is how wonderful you feel.
About how wonderful Minho is making you feel.
He chuckles, bringing his hands out from under your top and gripping your ass, hoisting you up. You wrap your legs around his hips, intensifying the pressure where you need it the most. He puts your back against the wall and grinds against you, and you let your fingers slip under his white cotton shirt, nudging it up. He lets go of you for a second so you can pull it off him to admire the hard, bronzed plane that is Minho's body.
His shoulders are broad, but his physique is lean. His arms are corded with muscles, and they strain with every movement he makes.
He stares at you for a second, watching your chest rise and fall with each irregular breath you take.
With a smirk, he slides his hands up your chest, over your shirt, this time, thumbs moving in circles and trailing a pattern through the fabric.
This makes you want to scream, but instead, you counter him and plant a trail of kisses along his jaw, just like he did to you earlier on, feeling his breath come in rags. When your wandering hands grab his ass and pull him even closer to you, using your entire weight to force yourself down on him, he lets out a long groan, stiffening even more.
You notice the unmistakable shift in his pants and you almost bite your tongue off.
Now that is not cute. Not cute at all.
It's always nice to know you have at least some kind of reaction. Especially from Minho the ultimate sex bomb.
Then, he lets you down, and gets to his knees, pressing you up to the wall. He lifts the bottom of your shirt this time, and presses his lips to the exposed flesh, slowly working his way up north.
Every kiss sends fire through your brain and you can't think straight.
If anybody walked in right now, all they'd see is an image of Minho, shirtless and on the ground, lifting your shirt up. A sight that would burn the eyes of any unfortunate glader.
He's almost there. Almost. His tongue is a fraction of a millimeter away from the right spot. You're holding back the urge to grab the back of his head and direct his movements, but you're too exhausted to move. You just stand there, trembling in anticipation.
And then he removes his mouth from your skin and stands up, letting your shirt drop back over your bare skin.
You stands there, in a daze, breath coming in gasps, face slowly registering disbelief. "What the shuck!"
"I'm not cute."
You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. You're aware that his eyes are shamelessly raking your body, but you're too breathless to care. "You suck. So much."
"The only one who's going to be doing any sucking," he quips, "is you, dear shank." And then he winks.
"Minho!" You just about screech, turning away and fixing yourself. "I can't believe you ruined my stuff for nothing."
"I'm a growing boy, ________. Sorry if I'm getting rougher." His tone holds no remorse at all. In fact, he sounds almost amused.
"The only thing that seems to be growing is..." You look over your shoulders and cast your eyes down to the tent in his pants and he claps a hand over your eyes, groaning.
"What're you even doing looking?"
You swipe his hand away and grin. "Well," you continue, referring to his comment. "It's a bit hard not to when the general and his men are stabbing me in the leg."
You feel him come up behind you and you turn around to face him. Leaning forward, you press your face to his bare chest, pleased to hear the sound of his heart, pounding rapidly against his ribs, in sync with yours. He brings his hands down and close them around the buttons of your pants. "They can stab somewhere else if you want them to." His laughter echoes in his chest and you look up at him in mock disgust.
"No way are you getting in my pants Minho." You say, swatting his hands away. "You're such a hoe, Minho."
"Oh really?" He smirks, "I can think of so many ways." And then he slips his hands into the back of your pants and pats your ass. "And that is one."
You yank his hand out and needle him in the ribs. "You're an awful tease."
All he does is wink again.
A/N:
AN UPDATE!!!
Definitely not my best.
Sorry for this substandard scene.
Sch sucks. Honestly I'm sooooo busy and I'm sorry for my horrendous updating frequency and horrible chapter I have no inspiration rn everyday it's school school school school how the shiz do I write happy stuff if I'm not feeling happy?!?! ಥ_ಥ I can't even write a nice scene cos all that's going through my head is facts for my next mock paper AGH.
Anyone have good study/self-motivational tips? I'm distracted really easily and even if I don't have my phone with me I end up day dreaming and stuff so HALP? ADVICE ANYONE?
LOVE YALL BYE!