Hey!

So here it is, the last part of this mini-series! Once again I'm not entirely satisfied with the outcome because it was so much better inside my head but whatever.

As I said, this is the last part. I won't give up on these two - I'll start writing a fanfiction based on this relationship, following the books' storyline. If an idea for a one-shot like these shall pop up inside my head I won't think twice to write it down but if you have any idea regarding what I should write about, feel free to ask me! Oh, how I love writing these~

Warning: smut, language, and also, this is unbeta'd.

Guys should realize girls have the last word in an argument. Always. Whatever they say or do afterwards is the beginning of another argument.

Minho, however, didn't know that.

After I left him in a highly nasty situation I expected some kind of revenge from him. I was careful not to stay alone anywhere. Not that I was afraid of him – hell, no! But I wasn't going to let him have his fun right away. My senses were extra-sensitive and all in all, I was just highly strung, picking up on every noise and unknown shadow but it was never Minho.

At first I thought he was throwing a tantrum again, you know, giving me the silent treatment. Then the thought he may be angry at me and just didn't want to see or talk to me hit me like a rain on track. It made me feel kinda anxious and guilty. Maybe I had gone too far…

But then again, he was the one starting it so whatever.

I brushed it off and continued my day. If he had wanted to speak to me he would've need to come to me. He can huff all he wants.

I spent the first part of the afternoon cleaning the windows of the Homestead and then the rest of my day was… Empty. I guess the others thought I wanted to spend my time with Minho with him being on his off-day and thus Winston, Zart and Frypan all said they don't need any help. The rest of the afternoon went by with me following Newt around the Glade like a lost puppy – he was gathering the stocks from the Keepers and he seemed to be pretty much annoyed by my presence.

Not that I was enjoying that. I was bloody bored but refused to find Minho even when my heart told me so because what we were doing was ridiculous.

I didn't meet with him, not even at dinner. I sat with Newt and Alby, listening to even more boring managing stuff and kept my eyes on every newcomer.

There were times when Minho'd have a sandwich at the Map Room because a Runner found something but I had a feeling he was shunning me, on voluntary method.

"If you give me your cookie," I started in an absent-minded, pondering tone, looking at Newt's plate," will I give you mine in return or run away?… Should we try it?"

"You're tired and saying klunk. Go to bed," Newt responded, shaking his head with a forgiving and tired smile. Sadly enough, he was right – as if to buttress up his argument, a yawn escaped my mouth.

I told my goodbyes and headed to the showers.

In the first months after we've woken up in the middle of the Glade, having a shower was tricky, for me, at least. I'd have to ask Newt to stand guard at the door so none of the boys would wander there, following their hormones. Still, there was a few occasions where Newt wasn't available and some boys (on purpose or by an accident) walked in on me having a shower.

Since I've been with Minho, no one dared to come in by will and even if those who accidentally opened the door on me were chanting 'sorry' all over again so I wouldn't tell Minho. I never did, to be honest, but somehow they all thought I would… Or maybe they were simply scared of Minho. Runners were the best of all of us (the fastest, the smartest and the strongest) and the Keeper was the best Runner. Practically speaking: Minho was the best of the best and no one wanted to mess with him. I haven't decided yet whether I should laugh at this idea or feel excited that he was my love.

My love who has been absent all afternoon, my inner voice shrieked worriedly. I hushed it away and closed the door of the bathroom after me.

It wasn't much, really – some makeshift shelves on the wall to the right when you entered and four sinks lined up one by one on the left. At around half of the room was two curt bulkhead and behind them was two-two shower with plastic curtains. Vis-à-vis the door was a window which was rarely open – there was no heating in the room so if you didn't want to suffer from the contrast of goddamn hot water and chilling air you kept it shut.

I placed the freshly washed clothes I've brought with me on one of the shelves. Washing clothes was also the job of the Sloppers but they rarely did it since most of the boys were okay with one shower a week and thus they only changed once in every seven day. I honestly didn't understand how they bared their own sweaty, musky scent but whatever. I was lucky with those who I talked a lot – Frypan had to be hygienic since he was the cook, Newt was basically a maniac of cleanliness and Minho, well… Usually he was too tired to move after a long day of running but since I insisted he must go have a shower before even thinking about coming to bed with me he obeyed. He was always growling, but he obeyed.

I turned on the water in one of the further cabins, testing the water-drops with my hand. It was cold at first but as soon as the water started to heat I moved to undress. Soon enough all my stinky clothes were in the middle of the mosaic tiled floor and I stood under the small waterfall of warm drops.

All of my anxiety and negative feelings flew away as the water rolled down on me and I sunk into the warm embrace happily and willingly.

I don't know how much time passed with me just standing under the showerhead and enjoying as the hot air surrounding my body but suddenly I heard the door open.

"Occupied," I exclaimed loudly enough so whoever strayed inside could hear it through the persistent buzz of the shower.

I expected to hear a mumbled 'sorry' and hurried footsteps then the closing of the door. Instead all I heard was the footsteps and some other sounds I found strange. Ruffling, tackling, zipping…

Before I had the chance to turn around the curtain was pulled back harshly and I found myself face to face with a pretty much annoyed Minho.

"Minho!" I shouted, surprised and happy and indignant at the same time. "What are ya-…"

Minho's lips crashed against mine roughly. I couldn't help but moan into the kiss as he grabbed my chin, forcing my face upward, and pushed his tongue inside my mouth. My knees went weak by this sudden brute force of his.

He departed from my lips with a smack sound, breathing heavy.

"I'm going to fuck you," he said with so much ease it surprised me more than his actions.

"What?!" My voice jumped at least an octave higher. The reason was equally surprise and excitement.

Minho grabbed my sides, massaging them as he spoke, looking straight into my eyes. "You know, (Y/N), when two people love each other, they have this thing called making love. And when one of the people grows tired of the other's klunk, then he simply fucks the other one until she can't shucking walk."

Minho rarely talked dirty during our heat-sessions. He said this and that occasionally, yes, but this was much more than what he had said in the past three weeks.

Maybe there was something seriously wrong with me because I felt myself getting wet by his simple words.

I gulped really hard when he stepped closer.

"You say I was goin' all klunk on ya?" I asked. It was supposed to be aggrieved but my voice was as resentful as a kitten's meow.

"Are you shucking with me?!" He growled, obviously irritated. His grip on my sides tightened; it hurt. Not as much to make me stop him but hard enough to leave bruises next day and make my heart race like jack in my ribcage with excitement. "You were the one starting it in the morning!"

My mouth opened in awe. "Me? How so? I merely did else than kiss you once…" My voice trailed off as something lit up in Minho's eyes. It was wild and intense and somewhat even animalistic but at the same time quite full of emotions.

"You don't even know what even your bare scent does to me, do ya?"

I couldn't answer that – I've attempted to but no bloody word came from my mouth, only puffs of breath. The cause was equally the fact that there was simply no right answer for that question and also Minho. The shuck-face was standing right under the water drop-fall, his always-perfectly-made hair was bordering his handsome face, wet.

A few dear seconds passed with me staring up at him and visa-versa until he stepped closer, his half-erect cock pressing against my lower belly. I automatically took a step back. I wasn't afraid of him or anything but it was instinctual.

He followed me.

I stepped back.

It could've been a long game had the shower be larger.

Soon my back was pressed to the cold wall, sending a shiver down my entire body. Minho stepped out from under the showerhead, moving his gaze form one point to the other hungrily, like a predator.

"I'm shucking tired of teasing," was all he said before he attached his lips to mine in an eager kiss. I took it as a silent 'no foreplay' warning. Usually the part I most loved about having sex with Minho was the foreplay – all that cuddling and touching and stroking made me feel loved and precious. He treated me like I was fine china, ever so tender and gentle as if I'd broke from pressuring. But as soon as we got to the part he enjoyed the most he let all his untamed desires loose.

In these times when he decided to don't give a shuck about foreplay for some reason, it was only thrusting and biting and grabbing and I still loved it. I'd have hated him for being able to do anything just bloody right but since I was the one he did those things… I guess I could turn a blind eye.

Just like I predicted, his hands soon went to prepare me, his palm massaging my entrance. Little jolts of electric lust awoke along my spine as he pressed his warm, muscled chest against my breasts and he moaned as my hardened nipples came in contact with his skin.

His mouth moved against mine in synch with his hands until he detached them to place wet, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw. My lips were red and swollen from his and tingled after the loss of that oh-so-good sucking and biting session of Minho's.

I felt his cock getting harder and harder by every passing second and the harder it became, the rougher and hastier his touches became. My heavy breaths soon turned into low, chanting moans of his name and my hand went to grab his wet hair when he bit down on my skin. I could feel his hot breath trailing down on me, a sweet opposite of the cold tiles pressing against my back and butt.

Minho quickly aided the later one – he grabbed my thighs and lifted me up, my legs curling around his waist immediately. He didn't even seem to try hard even though I wasn't as lanky as Newt. The thought of his goddamn strength made my crotch throb dully, in rhythm with the beat of his heart which I felt bloody clearly. Its speed increased noticeably when I trailed my fingers down along his spine and grabbed his ass.

He grumbled against my skin and lined himself up with my heated womanhood and sank in deep within me. Sharp pain numbed my body for a second – shuck, I thought he had made me wet enough so it would be smooth and easy!

"Bloody he- Minho!" I screamed in surprise and slight pain as he started to move right ahead, his length stretching and filling me again and again at an increasing pace.

Minho's eyes were closed in pure euphoria as my walls clenched around him. "Mmm, sweet, so tight…"

I doubt he was talking to me; his voice was low and he was almost mumbling so I guess he was just thinking aloud.

His eyes then snapped open, looking into mine through my half-closed eyelids. He may have seen there was some pain mixed in my pleasure because his gaze softened and he captured my lips in a passionate but loving kiss. All the pain melted away immediately and so did I in the warmth of his body.

My butt-cheeks spanked against the tiles with every thrust of his hips, this and the squelching sound of Minho's cock sliding in and out of me formed a strange melody with the still going shower.

Minho knew when I was in pain and he knew when all I felt was pleasure and lust and oh yes yes yes, throwing my head back against the wall, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. He didn't waste a second to increase his speed and the hardness of his moves, thrusting up into me by only pulling out half.

I've asked him once how it felt to be inside me – it wasn't fully possible to let that exact feeling known but he said he thinks it might be like when he sucks on my nipple: hot and wet and in-drawing only on a several inches long place. He said he could die like that happily.

Judging by his face, he really would've been happy to die right then and there, his eyes shut tight again, mouth agape, low growls escaping his lips coming from deep within his throat.

I felt a bliss overcome me as he rammed into me – really, though there wasn't so much I did aside from grabbing him here and there and kissing his face but I felt like I'm a bugging goddess to make him go over the moon, on cloud nine, on top of the world.

I didn't feel left out when he knitted his eyebrows together and came inside me with a moan of my name.

I helped him ride out his orgasm with small pecks all over his face, my hands brushing his hair. Usually when he came I would still be in ecstasy from my own orgasm and the white cloak of pleasure wouldn't allow me to truly admire how Minho looked when he reached his high.

Now I had the chance and he looked shucking hot.

After I felt his warm fluids explode in me, sending a hot feeling up my body like when I drank Gally's moonshine and felt alcohol spread in my veins, he thrusted a few times, slow, sloppy thrusts before he completely stopped with a satisfied and tired sigh. He didn't put me down, though, for which I was grateful – my legs were sore and felt like jelly so I doubted I would've been able to stand.

Instead, after a few minutes of standing there, his face buried in the crook of my neck, his arms wrapped around me in a protective manner, he placed a loving kiss on m forehead and carried me under the water which was still going. What a waste of resources, I thought bitterly.

He carefully let me down, his arms never leaving my waist which was good – without them, I'd have collapsed. The hot water did the job and chased away the numbness from my limbs. Minho bathed me without a word, rubbing and stroking the soap into my skin and then brushing it off with water. Afterwards he lead me to the sinks and dried me off with that fluffy towel of mine.

"Sorry," he said finally and brought his hand to my cheek, caressing it softly with his thumb. "I got carried away."

We were naked as shuck as we stood facing each other but one round was enough for now.

I took his hand in mine and kissed the edge of his palm. "You don't need to be sorry."

"Thank God, because I wasn't going to repeat it."

I rolled my eyes and laughed but controlled myself and forced a serious look on my face. "Careful now, Min. If you continue saying things like that I might decide to leave you."

Minho gave a strange half-snort, half-laugh sound and placed both of his hands on my hips, stroking the skin. "I don't want that. I mean, it's good to find the person you wanna provoke and drive nuts for the rest of your life."

"Ooooh, you're so romantic," I cooed mockingly.

He smirked smugly, raised an eyebrow and said in a confident voice, "I know, right?"

Do you ever wonder how come some people just never miscarry? They start off into a direction blind and wherever they find themselves, they call that their aim. Minho was one of these guys – in conversations, I mean. I simply couldn't say anything he wouldn't have a comeback to but it was fine.

I shook my head, laughing, and the next minute he was kissing me again. His lips were rough and they grazed mine – somehow I liked it. It was… Manly, or something. This kiss was nothing like the ones he gave me when he finally got it on with me. This was sweet and slow and loving, not really a battle of tongues but the dance of lips. I loved it.

At least until the door flew open, the intruder stepping inside before finally looking up, analyzing the situation ahead him.

Newt's face first went ghost-white, then red and then somewhat green. "BLOODY HELL," he exclaimed loud enough for the whole Glade to hear. He about-faced and thundered outside, shutting the door behind him. Still, we heard from the outside: "And I was to give you my cookie!"

Minho started laughing so hard he accidentally head-butted the sink.

We've spent the night at the Med-Jack's.