ूʚ̴̶ .̠ ʚ̴̶ ूƈूʚ̴̶ ʚ̴̶ ूƈूʚ̴̶ .̠ ʚ̴̶ ूƈूʚ̴̶ .̠ ʚ̴̶ ूƈ
"You're kidding me," I say in disbelief to Namjoon immediately he slammed my body on the floor. He had taken the responsibility of giving me a free-I'm still wondering why it's free-training session in case I, during our preparations for battle, have an encounter with any extra-terrestrials who might decide to hold me captive and ask for the alien-men to surrender.
Their words not mine.
Started in the afternoon, he had been consistently throwing me despite my complaints for him to take hands off for a little while. He declined.
Judging from his soft demeanor, I thought training with him would be like child's play. But underneath the whole cute and funny, he's tough and hard like an Arabian soldier.
But on the brighter side, he has taught me a few tactic moves to confuse whoever might to cross me.
In all my life of hating violence, I never thought I would be part taking in a one-of-a-strange-living battle of extra-terrestrials attempting an impugn at the inhabitants of this planet. It does tug me the fact that myself does find all this action and brawling, sort of amusing.
I at the very least haven't been the sort of person to put much thought into something before it do it rather Yugyeom is someone I consider to do the caring for me.
That why, in the past hours he's been helping the men access places confiscated by government because apparently, aliens have a better route with desert and unknown locations of demographical areas. Of course the men with their suspicions decided to locate a mother board for signal shooting.
"You didn't even land a punch so in my justification, you were bound to fall nevertheless." He shrugs.
"At least, you could have warned-"
"If I did, you'd be expecting it. On account when you'd need to defend yourself, you are likely to not be warned so I was doing you a favour."
"You're such a dick."
"Dick? I hear it's a male's gamete used in a vulgar state. So I say, I hope Hoseok's feeding it to you."
You just made a terrible mistake son.
"I am so going to kill you," I snarl, lunging towards and for him in a stride.
Like he'd been expecting my advances, he steps out of range, blocking me with his hands. Like a pro, he handled the situation as though I am a little girl begging for candy. Intently, I study him and when his hands couldn't read were I was aiming for next, I slam him to the wall and land solid punches into his gut.
He wince at the sharp pain radiating from the mid-point of my punch. Groaning, he lays himself on the floor and still.
Seethe still remaining in me at how heartless his tactic training had been, I don't bother helping or asking how that was, instead I humour in his pain. Until he stops wincing, he goes limps.
Petrifying accounts envelopes my mind thinking I just murdered one of the guardians of the galaxy's (pun intended) smart guy. Even worse is when the garden door opens.
It's too late to bury the body so I might as well face the music.
"He was dead when I found him here," I spit without looking at who had enter.
"What are you talking...?" Horror trails along with the person's voice. "In the name of Venus is Namjoon doing?"
"I found him dead and he wasn't breathing and I don't know how." I stutter.
A shrill second of laughter laced with mockery emits out of Hoseok's stomach that he finds himself tumbling on the floor. Whatever did I say to make him laugh like a witch?
"He's not dead," he managed to let out, getting up. "He's collecting."
"What is he collecting?"
"If say you landed him a painful contact, then he should be able to collect himself and release his pain." I landed a painful punch. I should tell Dad about this, maybe he'll stop punching my shoulders playfully.
As though on que, Namjoon gets up slowly and tiredly weary of my presence, striding towards the door, "Maybe Hoseok, you should teach hee how to use a gun instead. I'm sure it'll be much of fun."
A gun? Though it was a great ordeal collecting ammunitions from the commissioner closest to Choi, I never want to learn how to aim, shot or set one. Those tiny things are nasty and really ugly. If I ever find who invented the use of ammunitions, I'll curse them into an eternal hemorrhage unable to supersede.
A hand slithering around my waist breaks me from my bitter hatred for dirty weapons turning it to a sweet craving which I turn to be hormonal tugging and teasing.
"Shall we get to work?" His hot breath trickles down my Atlas or maybe it's just he's sweat.
Since the ammunitions arrived, the men have been busy playing villain and heros with their fist and toy guns I reserved because of my fear of real guns. It does surprise me how much they seem to have learned since they were held hostage on their planet. I can take a look at them and not tell a shit.
I say to commend the men on combat upbringing. For men claiming to have been rusty, they sure have a knack for getting start on physical business.
"We could wait for a bit, I shall be ready in my next life." I roll my eye.
"I see. You're one of those people afraid to come close to a weapon."
"Isn't that obvious enough?"
"It is," he easily, spins me around making us face to face. "I will take on the responsibility of taking away your fear. All of course will not be for free."
I furrow my brows. "That's the same thing Namjoon said."
"Normally, we'd require a piece of bed of those we train."
"Should I be worried?"
"Of?"
"Aliens transmitting STDs."
A coquet smirk elapses onto his face before he nears my face, teasing my lips with his breath hot against my skin. How much sinning can a man's hand do?
Out of nowhere, he attacks my body on the floor where he starts proceeding tiny pecks around my body-everywhere. Giggling has never been my signature emo, so I have to give this man an award for making me do so with just tiny pecks.
"Stop!"
"Make me," he grunts teasing me as he makes my limbs feel powerless against the grass. His grip on my either wrists tightens when I flex my joints, attempting to slither under him.
Before I can attempt any of Namjoon's tactics, I feel his hands going places a man shouldn't dare to explore. A sensation of gasps cascades my throat and his.
"You're meant to be teaching me guns, not teaching my body how to make sounds."
He chuckles loudly his enter body begins to shake. "I will teach you, however, I make no promises to keep my hands off you."
"You shall try to, at the very least."
"At this moment, there isn't a least because in a while," his jaws tighten. "we shall be fighting off an attack from the enemy."
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