Maze Runner - Imagines and preferences

Imagine - Minho (TMR) #3

Warning: slight steamy content?

You had no right to complain about Minho giving you the same treatment you'd given him. He was completely justified in retaliating and not putting up endlessly with your teasing, but the worst part of it all was just how much of an effect it had on you. It'd been fun while you'd been in control of the situation, but Minho having you at his mercy made the entirety of your body ache in ways you hadn't even imagined possible. It bothered you that you craved him as much as you did because unless you admitted to it first, he wouldn't stop playing this cat-and-mouse game with you, and the last thing you needed was to stroke his ego some more.

The few days that followed your last encounter in the pantry were agonising. It was an unspoken understanding between the two of you that it was now your move. You had to play your cards right if you wanted to get a reaction out of him but between your job in the kitchen and his job as a Runner, there were very few opportune moments for you to do so.

Minho didn't seek you out either, which you knew must have been hard on his part as well. Despite everything, you were still his best friend and you could tell he was making an applaudable effort to avoid coming to you before you came to him. He'd even stopped eating dinner in the kitchen and had resorted to joining the other Runners at a table outside instead, something that did not go unnoticed by Frypan.

"Is everything okay?" he asked one day as the two of you were getting ready to serve lunch. "Between you and Minho, I mean."

"Yeah," you assured him. "He's just distracted, that's all."

It wasn't a lie either. Minho was probably on edge, waiting impatiently for you to do something – anything.

That evening, you decided that enough was enough. You'd noticed that Minho had started spending more time in the Map Room after his runs, probably as an excuse to get out of seeing you before dinner. He'd be the only one there, surrounded by drawings and papers, simmering in his own thoughts. It was perfect; there wouldn't be a soul around to interrupt you.

As you pushed open the door to the Map Room and stepped inside, Minho's head turned to look at you. His body tensed as you shut the door behind you.

"Hey," you greeted. "Long day in the Maze?"

Minho nodded, jerking his chin towards the drawing he'd been trying to finish. "Yeah, I just need to get these done tonight," he said, almost dismissively. It didn't discourage you, however. You moved closer to him, pressing yourself against his arm as you craned your neck to get a better look.

"Huh, that's interesting," you noted, furrowing your brows in mock-concentration. "This part looks very similar to this one."

Minho looked like he was suppressing a smile. He glanced down at you and bit the inside of his lower lip, almost as if trying to decide whether to play along or not. "Yeah? You want a closer look?" He stepped around you, trapping you right between himself and the table, bracing his arms on either side of you. You could feel his nose brushing against your hair, wisps of his breath tickling your neck, and you suddenly felt the urge to give in right then and there and just kiss the living hell out of him. Stupid Minho. He was making this incredibly hard on you on purpose.

Focus, you told yourself.

You arched further against him, your back moulding perfectly into his chest. Minho let out the smallest of groans, and he moved his hand up to brush your hair off to the side, fully exposing the warmth of your neck to him. You shuddered as he grazed his lips against your skin; it was a dirty move, making you weak under his touch like that.

"By the way, dinner's ready," you said. Minho hummed in reply, his left hand sneaking up underneath your shirt and resting gently on your waist.

"I'm not hungry," he said. Then he chuckled, wrapping both his arms around you. "Well, not for food, anyway."

You twisted around in his arms until you were facing him head-on. He had an innocent, wide-eyed look on his face that you knew was complete and utter bull. There was nothing innocent about him, not with the way his fingers gripped at your hips, not with the way he was pressing against your lower body.

Two could play at that game.

"Then what are you hungry for?" you asked, tilting your chin up almost defiantly.

"Take one shucking guess," he muttered, all traces of innocence gone. With half-lidded eyes, he leaned in closer, lips parted slightly. You knew what he was going for and you had a feeling he wouldn't stop himself this time – but this was not part of the plan. Just as he was about to kiss you, you ducked away and broke free of his grasp.

"Hurry up, Minho," you urged, heading for the door. "I don't want Frypan yelling at me for letting the food go cold."

Behind you, you heard a string of expletives. As you opened the door, a hand reached out from behind you and slammed it shut. Minho gave you a tight-lipped smile that didn't do much to hide the annoyance in his eyes.

"See, here's the thing," he began, clearly irritated. "We were even up until today. Now you're being unfair."

"I'm being unfair?" You scoffed. "Minho, you've been playing with me since we first became friends. You're the one that's been unfair this whole time."

"I've been subtly dropping hints."

"You call pulling me into your lap subtle?"

"Yes?" Minho gave you that klunk-eating grin that you loved the most. "I could show you what being unfair is like, though. Want me to?"

The way he'd spoken – as if he was challenging you – made your head spin. Your knees went weak.

In an instant, he had you cornered against the door, one hand grasping your hip. "I bet you came here tonight to get back at me for the other day in the pantry, huh?" Minho let a finger trail down from your chin to your neck, to the opening of your button-down shirt. His voice dropped to a cheeky whisper. "I don't want to play games, you know."

He was practically asking you to give up. And the more you stared into his warm brown eyes, the more you wanted to do as he said, ego be damned. He clearly knew the effect he had on you – the power he held over you – and you liked it. Why were you being so stubborn?

Minho straightened up, his expression going from playful to stoic. "Or you can walk out that door right now. But if you do, I'll know you don't want me like that and I'll back off." His tone sounded off, almost uncertain. "It's up to you."

You felt a flutter of panic in your chest. No, leaving was not what you wanted. Minho stopping all affection for you was most definitely not what you wanted.

"Just – just shucking kiss me already."

With a reassured smile, he obliged. His lips found yours in an instant, all warm and soft and better than you'd imagined they would be. All the anticipation that had built up over the past few days made him taste even sweeter. You were breathless as he held you; his hands settled on your waist like a perfect fit. Everything that had transpired between the two of you – all the teasing, all the flirting, all the quiet wanting – would have been worth it, so long as he continued to kiss you like this forever and ever. You could never – would never – grow tired of him.

After a while, Minho stopped for air and gave you a coy grin. "I win," he said smugly.

Your cheeks heated.

"Shut up."

(20th July, 2020)