Luke Hemmings imagines

Workouts with Luke

"I'm dead. I'm dying. I give up. This is the most excruciating pain I've ever been in. My life is over. Leave me. Save yourself." You were lying on the living room floor in a sports bra and yoga pants. Luke had decided he wanted to do P90X and convinced you to do it with him.
"Y/N, get up! You're fine. That one wasn't even that bad." He chuckled out. Your head rolled to the side and you watched him bring the water bottle to his lips.
"You're sexy." You say, watching as his Adam's apple bobs up and down when he swallowed.
"And you're overdramatic." Luke set the water bottle down and sat next to you.
"I'm not overdramatic, I'm dead." You stared up at the ceiling, your arms splayed out next to you.
"Push ups aren't even hard." Luke said, poking your stomach.
"That's a damn dirty lie," you said, smacking his hand away, "push ups were invented as a form of torture that boyfriends use on their poor, unsuspecting, beautiful girlfriends to get them sweaty and miserable." You heard him laugh and before you knew it, his body was hovering over yours.
"Push ups aren't hard." He said, doing a push up over you between every word. You giggled and kissed him as he did his push ups over you.
"Shut up and get off me. You're sweating on me." You laughed, pushing him off.
"See what I mean, though? Not difficult." He said helping you up.
"I don't care, I'm never doing this again. Next time ask Ashton or Calum." You muttered, grabbing his water bottle and taking a drink.
"Nah," he whispered, pressing his body against yours and grabbing your ass, "they don't look as good in yoga pants."