S.M. ✦ Gin & Juice

XII.

***warning: smut***

It was 6:04 AM when you turned onto Shawn's street. Your headlights shined on him, sitting on the steps of his wraparound porch, as you pulled into the drive. Getting out of the car, you heard him clicking his tongue impatiently across the lawn, walking toward your car. He stood in the grass with his hands on his hips, a judgmental mother tapping his foot.

"You're late," he said, checking his invisible watch, "I run at 6." You rolled your eyes at him, arching your back and jutting your breasts out to distract him. It didn't matter that they were covered in an oversized sweatshirt, you were sure he could imagine them just fine. It was amazing Your suspicions were confirmed when you looked back at him and he was staring at your chest.

"Hey, boyfriend," you waved at his face, "eyes are up here." His head snapped up and he blushed hard. Scrubbing the back of his neck, he looked appropriately chagrined, "uhh, sorry. You distracted me."

You smiled at him, fingers twitching to touch, but quickly pulled back, not ready to maul him just yet. You were determined to get this running over with. If you were being honest with yourself, though you weren't looking forward to sweating, you couldn't wait to see Shawn exerting himself in the way that he loved best, sweating and panting and flushed with all the adrenaline. He had been going to open gym hours instead of running in the morning for the past couple of days to spend more time with you, but you had suggested running last night. You knew he preferred the freedom of outside without the possibility of surveillance. You also knew he couldn't wait to get you grinding the pavement with him.

He promised it would be fun. You were skeptical.

You took turns supporting each other while you both stretched, Shawn teasing and touching your smooth, bare legs when he helped you maneuver into the best stretching positions. When he ran his entire palm from your hip to your ankle, you slapped his hand away, giggling and separating yourself from him. He pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.

"Better watch it, Mendes," you sidled up to his chest, "you're about to miss your morning workout if you don't stop teasing me." His eyes widened as you came closer, standing on your tiptoes and aiming for his still protruding bottom lip. But, at the last second, as he openly panted, you diverted to place a quick kiss on his nose instead.

"Are we running or not?"

He stood there for a minute longer, mouth gaping, before he closed his eyes, clearly trying to control the situation developing in his loose fitting running shorts. You took that opportunity to bend over at the waist and touch your toes, getting a nice lower back and hamstring stretch. A low gutteral noise sounded behind you, deep in Shawn's throat. Smiling at the ground, you slowly returned to a full standing position, feeling him draw nearer. Your breathing picked up when you could feel his body heat radiating against your back. He leaned in, his breath tickling the wispy hair at your temples, whispering in your ear, "I hope you can catch up."

"What do you mean we haven't even–" You choked on the rest of the sentence, his hand biting across the cheek of your ass. Stars burst behind your eyelids as he sprinted around you, leaving you speechless and rooted to the ground. He was halfway down the block before you could convince your feet to move again, not sure if the heat from your sore skin or from between your legs was more distracting.

For you, Shawn's pace was blistering, but you could tell that he wasn't even really trying. He hadn't even broken a sweat by the first time you had to stop and breathe. You panted and bent over to work out a stitch in your side as he annoyingly ran circles around you. When you continued on, he would occasionally bolt ahead of you twenty yards and then sprint back, losing himself in the rush of endorphins he got when he really let go. You were living for these little wind sprints, watching his muscles move beneath his clothes. His back was damp with sweat, his curls tied back with a headband that made him look endearingly ridiculous.