Chapter 14 - FYI: Werewolves Love to Play Chase

Thomas slowed and halted his approach as Minho gawked incredulously at the teen, his dark eyes as wide as saucers and refusing to break their uncomprehending stare. The wolf knew he should probably keep his unsubtle staring to a minimum but he was only human after all - Well, not human per say... Humanoid shapeshifter actually and that was the problem... But, you know, you get the point. Human-y.

"What?" Thomas demanded defensively, face flushing an absolutely adorable shade of pink. "I like wolves!" The brunette protested unhappily, clutching his toy protectively against his chest and sticking his tongue defiantly out at his friend as he stalked the rest of the way over to the group.

Minho threw his hands up in a pacifying gesture, rolling his eyes skyward as an excuse to put them anywhere besides on Thomas as the werewolf tried to reign back in his suddenly explosive heart rate. The brunette's words had sent a rush of pure elated adrenaline coursing through the Asian's body despite his best attempts to convince himself to be logical about this and his unobedient heart pounded in his chest like a sledgehammer.

The Keeper refused to let himself be hopeful - It had been one of his number one rules in the Maze and he wasn't about to abandon it now. But... There was the glaring fact that Thomas was what had brought real hope, actual, true hope to the Maze and had eventually used that hope to break them all out. Thomas had become Minho's hope then and had remained so ever since - So the "no hope" rule was pretty already trashed on the Thomas front.

"Have you guys been at the games all night?" A female voice inquired abruptly and the redhead from Deaton's suddenly appeared beside Thomas, shoving the teen slightly as she questioned him and sending the brunette stumbling into Minho.

Minho was quick to restabilize his companion and who's to say if he perhaps tugged the brunette a little farther away from the newcomer as he did so? It was poor compensation for the low growling he was barely magaining to bite back. His wolf wanted to snarl and snap, evidently displeased with the casual contact and practically livid over the fact that someone would actually dare to lay hand on his mate.

"Nah, we rode some shit before this." Thomas replied easily, shifting his grip on his wolf plushie so it hung from the middle of his chest where he crossed his arms over it while Minho fought back the pressing urge to toss the brunette over his shoulder and get him away from the girl as soon as possible.

"What's that?" The redhead asked unenthusiastically, pointing at Thomas's prize and raising one incredulous eyebrow at it, looking as if she'd never seen anything less impressive in her life.

"Minho won it for me." Thomas explained excitedly, proudly holding up the ragdoll for inspection though the redhead drew back slightly as if disgusted by its mundanity.

"Oh!" The girl replied understanding, a sudden spark of realization lighting in her eyes as she subtly moved back a step. "Well, you guys should totally check out the fortune teller before we leave." The redhead encouraged, gesturing towards a gaudily decorated tent, smothered in red lights and beadwork, not too far off. "Heard she's really good at reading people's feeling." The chick added with a sly smile, locking eyes with Minho for just a moment before pulling out her phone as if nothing had ever happened.

"Sounds interesting!" Thomas agreed eagerly before turning his expectant gaze on Minho as if waiting for confirmation that the wolf would go with him, apparently not wanting to be separated from the Asian and seeming unwilling to go if the werewolf wouldn't accompany him.

"Sure. Let's go hear what horrible fate awaits us next." Minho snorted sarcastically, knowing the likelihood of some batty old woman in a technicolor tent holding the key to the future was about as likely as Thomas returning his feelings but also unwilling to pass up the opportunity to stay at the brunette's side if his Runner wanted him there.

Thomas grinned excitedly at the wolf before immediately darting off in the direction of the tent Lydia had indicated, apparently more eager to participate in the cheesy gimmick than he'd let on. Why, oh why did the pretty brunette have to take a two ton wrecking ball Minho's heart with his adorable childish innocence like this? Minho was so absolutely head over heels it was legitimately starting to hurt, his heart physically constricting in his chest in response to his mate's endearing actions and his muscles left aching from fighting their constant, instinctual desire to wrap himself around the smaller boy.

"Hey, stormcloud," The confounding redhead suddenly hissed just as Minho was about to take off after his companion, halting the Keeper's retreat as he turned to glare at her. Okay, so maybe it was a little possessive, but the wolf wasn't exactly over the fact that the bitch had the audacity to lay hand on what was his and the Asian wasn't exactly eager to have a nice little chat with her (Unless it was going to end with her missing a finger or two.)

"Stop that. I'm trying to apologize, asshat." The red haired woman scoffed irritably, rolling her eyes exasperatedly in response to Minho's initial confrontational reaction and looking practically bored, as if she were used to dealing with unbearable werewolves and was merely tired of their shit at this point.

"What for?" Minho growled shortly, the words coming out much harsher than he'd intended them to as he bit his lip to contain a building rant about how Thomas belonged to him and should never be touched by her or anyone else.

"For, you know, "laying hand on what's yours" or whatever." The girl replied with another eye roll, making a mocking "blah blah" gesture with her left hand as she spoke, giving the impression this was something someone had lectured her on before. "I can't smell you on him like ya'll can, so I didn't know he was yours. Know you freaks are touchy about that kinda shit, so sorry about that, I guess." The girl elaborated boredly, looking entirely done with this whole conversation as she inspected a nail, frowning disapprovingly at a miniscule chip in it as if the slight imperfection was an abomination that scorned the earth with its mere presence.

"Um, thanks, I guess." Minho mumbled awkwardly, letting his tense stance relax slightly, drawing his shoulders down from their arched position and shifting about uncomfortably, unsure of what to say in this particular situation - "Shockingly" he'd never expected to find himself in a situation where someone would have to apologize for touching a person he'd claimed as own. How foolish of him.

"Eh, don't worry about it." The redhead replied casually, smiling slightly as she drew her gaze back up from her chipped nail to meet the werewolf's eyes. "Derek nearly gutted me for patting Stiles on the shoulder once, so no biggie, really." She added with a soft laugh, turning her eyes to where Stiles was nodding vigorously in agreement and Derek was glaring at the ground as if it had insulted him, obviously not denying the claim.

"Hey, what's your name anyway?" Minho asked finally, his wolf was apparently appeased by the apology and acknowledged the female as pack, so he should probably figure out her actual title rather than keep referring to her as "that one redheaded chick" for the rest of her life.

"You haven't known this whole time?" The girl groaned disbelievingly, looking entirely fed up with absolutely everything as she heaved a huge sigh of irritation before finally replying. "It's Lydia. Lydia Martin." The redhead - Lydia, apparently - informed drly, her fingertips clasped to the bridge of her nose in utter exasperation as she shook her head slowly as if unable to comprehend the stupidity surrounding her.

Minho rolled his eyes in return, sarcasm being his forte, but this merely elicited a slight chuckle from Lydia who turned and disappeared into the crowd she'd emerged from once more, apparently losing interest in the group for now. However, this ended up being impeccable timing as Thomas called "Minho, are you coming?" a moment later, drawing the wolf's attention to where the brunette was now standing a little ways away, waiting for the werewolf to join him before going any further.

Admittedly, Minho probably should not be coming. One didn't have to be a fortune teller to pick up on the werewolve's obvious attraction to a certain pretty brunette boy and; if what Lydia had said about the gypsy reading people's feelings was true, there was a pretty good fucking chance this fortune teller loon would save Minho the trouble of confessing to Thomas. But did that stop him from charging after his companion like the lovestruck idiot he really was? No. Of fucking course not.

Thomas gave a startled yelp that turned into a nervous giggle as his companion came rocketing at him, all flailing limbs and uncoordinated stumbling as he turned to bolt off towards the radiant tent in some pathetic attempt to escape the oncoming freight train that was Minho. However, Thomas was, in fact, the Keeper's best Runner and; after a few first panic clouded, careening steps, the kid straightened and tore off through the crowded fairgrounds as if fire was licking at his heels. (No, wolfy, there would be no licking of anyone's heels. It's a metaphor! Stop being such a weirdo for two seconds, for the love of the gods, please.)

Minho didn't miss a beat, narrowing his dark eyes in determination and giving chase after the wry brunette as Thomas suddenly swerved left, disappearing into the mess of food stalls and fairgoers with the Asian on his tail (No pun intended.) The werewolf smoothly maneuvered through the confounding terrain, dodging around children playing games and ducking under low hanging signs advertising nothing more than an indiscernible blur of color at the speed he was currently going. All the while, he kept Thomas locked in his sights, letting everything that wasn't his prey fade into the background to be worried about later.

Adrenaline pumped through Minho's veins, coursing through his blood and driving him to run. To chase. To hunt. The delicious scent of his mate was heightened with a slight edge of fear, mixing with the sweet scent of excitement to create an irresistible concoction that drove the werewolf after the boy and left his usual policy of restraining supernatural advantage when playing with Thomas in the dust. Hunt. Claim. His wolf snarled hungrily, loving the challenge his fiery, spirited, gutsy little mate posed and eager to meet it - Though it was even more eager to win the promised prize.

Thomas was no easy prey though, which is what made him such a desirable bounty. The brunette veered off to the side once more, abruptly planting his feet and pivoting on the spot, disappearing into the throng of the stalls as pride swelled in Minho's chest - He had trained his breathtaking Runner so well.

Minho skidded to a haphazard halt and threw his body to the side, feet skidding on the dusty earth as he struggled to change course as abruptly as his lithe, cunning, fox of a mate could. The werewolf stilled for a moment, eyes scanning the crowded, chaotic scene for a sign of his coveted victim and finding nothing. A hungry growl escaped the wolf, causing a few people he couldn't bring himself to worry about to sensibly shuffle away, as most knew it was probably a bad idea to stand near a near shaking, snarling teenage boy. The teenager's heart pounded with the thrill of the hunt and his mouth watered as his desperate, starved wolf demanded he find his tempting prey.

"Looking for someone?" Came a teasing voice from somewhere behind the Asian and he whipped around to see Thomas back behind him, a few feet away and now nearing the gaudily decorated tent that marked the end of their game. The elusive teen must've doubled back right after leading the werewolf into the disorienting throng of stalls - Of course, Minho's wolf simply preened, completely enraptured with his perfect mate's obvious intelligence and capability, loving the brunette's ability to equal him.

Minho was off like a shot, barrelling towards his friend with renewed determination and vowing to let nothing get in his way. Prey drive overcame the werewolf as Thomas neared his destination, sending fire though the Asian's veins as he torpedoed after this soon to be victim, his desire to capture and conquer his mate turning into a dire need. Humanity was absent from the chase and Minho tore off after his beloved, the need to catch his perfect prey stealing away the Asian's self control as he swerved around vendors and pushed himself to the limit.

Minho was gaining on his Runner, the distance between them closing rapidly but Thomas was dangerously near his destination and desire fueled his hunter into an animalistic frenzy as the space between them depleted. The wolf pushed himself to clear that last bit of space, not willing to lose now when he was so close, but a large wooden table became visible as he ran, sitting in the middle of the path and blocking the Asian's direct line of attack.

The item came flying forward to meet the werewolf as he refused to slow his breakneck pace and when the Asian finally reached the thing he didn't think before slamming one hand into the center of the wooden surface and vaulting his body across the expanse of it - Efficiently throwing "act normal" out the nearest window but not giving the slightest beginnings of a fuck as his feet slammed back onto the ground underfoot and he continued the pursuit without missing a beat. The wolf raced to put distance behind himself with no regard to much of anything else, only having eyes for his prize, who he was now coming up on at a merciless pace.

Logical thought was abandoned, leaving only instincts and urges to drive Minho as he finally closed in on his prey, growing only inches away from the wry brunette who had so foxily evaded him all this time, though all the teen's efforts had done was fuel the wolf's desire to hunt him. There was merely a hair breadth between the hunter and his prize and Minho knew he had his victim caught, the thrill of a successful chase alighting inside him with an animalistic triumph.

Which is why it wasn't all that surprising that Minho pounced on Thomas like a wild beast launching out of the weeds onto an unsuspecting antelope rather than merely reaching out and grabbing him like any normal human being would. (That was, if normal human beings chased their love interests down like rabbits, of course.)

The weight of Minho combined with the momentum of his fierce pursuit sent the lithe teen the wolf had been chasing flying, literally taking Thomas off of his feet and sending the pair airborne for a brief moment before they slammed into the ground. The boys rolled once with the force of the blow, sending Minho tumbling over Thomas before landing him back on top again as they finally skidded to a halt.

"Shit! Sorry, Thomas, are you good?" Minho questioned feverishly, the words pouring out of his mouth a mile a minute as concern immediately came to replace his lust driven prey drive, the familiar, stomach twisting sensation of guilt coming to accompany it. The feelings crashed over him like a tsunami, the stark contrast from the excitement of the hunt leaving the Asian cold and empty, as if an icy hand had reached through his chest and closed its frigid fingers over his heart. The thought of hurting his precious mate, even if it was purely accidental, made the Keeper queasy.

Except, then Thomas started laughing and suddenly everything was okay with the world once more. The brunette's apparent ability to send Minho's emotions from one extreme to the other in mere moments was simply astonishing and rather terrifying in the grand scheme of things - Terrifying and wonderful. Minho loved the things his mate did to him, really. (When it didn't result in horrible stomach churning feelings of fear, of course. That did seem to be a more common orrucance than most would think.)

"Jesus Christ, Minho!" The gorgeous boy snickered out breathlessly, his face flushed from running and his breaths coming in short, quick gasps that left his mouth hanging slightly open as he flopped his head back against the ground, revealing Minho's wolf's apparent favorite spot - If the sudden, desperate tug the werewolf felt in response to the display was anything to go by - for the second time that night. Really, if the Keeper didn't know better, he'd say his Runner did things like this on purpose.

Minho had honestly convinced himself Thomas couldn't get any hotter, but, hey you learn something new every day... And today Minho learned Thomas looked fucking amazing underneath him. The smaller boy looked completely wrecked, all sweat soaked hair and body trembling with exhaustion as the fight visibly drained out of the teen and he went lax under the wolf. Now, this would be a horrible time to get a boner so if Minho could just control-

"You caught me." Thomas mumbled slowly, opening his hazel orbs slightly to stare up at his captor through half lidded orbs and his already intoxicating scent sweetened with that newfound drug of a scent that left Minho weak in the knees and practically starving for his mate. Yeah. This was doing absolutely nothing to keep that boner down. Minho was basically fucked - And not in the way he'd like. The way that involved Thomas in this exact position, preferably not on the ground in front of dozens of gawking fairgoers. A bed would be nice. Yeah. Thomas on a bed, pinned underneath him, exhausted and conquered... Wow. Minho was really bad at this whole "let's not get horny on top of our best friend" thing.

"Yeah." The werewolf replied dumbly, his mind a hazy mess of love and want incapable of coherent thought at the moment. All he wanted to do was gather his sweet, wrecked prey up off this undeserving ground and carry his prize away somewhere private where he could hoard his winnings all to himself and enjoy his conquered boy.

"Are you two just gonna sit there and be gay all day or are you gonna get in here and let me do my job?"