Chapter 15 - Where, Oh Where is Wolfy's Wallet?

Minho jolted back into reality faster than a fat guy could wolf down a plate of pancakes, startled by the unexpected speaker and even more taken aback by her actual words - He was being so subtle! Well, except that part where he had just chased Thomas across the entirety of the fairgrounds before pouncing on the boy as if he were a walking filet mignon... But besides that he was being a perfect picture of straight-dom.

The wolf whipped his gaze toward where the voice had come from and his eyes landed on the base of the tent they'd toppled just in front of, the one with all the orange lights and red beads hanging over until it looked more like a discount whore than a tent. The boy saw nothing out of the ordinary, however, save for enough beadwork to put any jewelry maker out of business, and blinked in confusion.

"Up here, predator." Came the voice again and Minho let his eyes travel upwards until he finally found a woman poking her head out from farther up the tent's front flap and glaring down at them from above like a scornful parent might glare at their teenage daughter who snuck out to see her boyfriend and forgot to leave a pillow replica of herself in her bed.

At first, Minho was confused by the woman's odd statement but then reality caught up with him and he figured out that sitting on Thomas's chest was probably not on the list of "normal, heterosexual behavior" he was supposed to be adhering to - Which was totally understandable because with his gorgeous, conquered mate pinned underneath him, Minho was feeling anything but heterosexual.

The wolf scrambled to his feet in an instant, ready to bite back a snarky response to the woman who just had to come ruin his moment and somehow saw right through his impeccable facade of straight-ness. Before worrying about the speaker, however, the wolf extended a hand down to his still dazed mate, who had failed to pull himself up off the ground or even really react to the sudden change of events quite yet. We have such an effect on him. Minho's wolf preened proudly, satisfied with how efficiently he'd broken the pretty boy and wanting nothing more than to devour his helpless little prey now that he'd torn his mate's defenses down.

Instead of ravaging Thomas as he so wanted to, however, Minho wrapped his hand around the smaller boy's and pulled his companion back to his feet, efficiently breaking the trance the brunette had fallen into and reawakening his friend to the world around them. The teen's hazel orbs instantly fell on the woman as clarity returned to their endless depths, widening slightly in recognition as if the Runner had just realized what the newcomer had witnessed and his pretty face flushed a enticing shade of deep pink.

"Just come in already. You're here to have your fortunes read, aren't you?" The woman dismissed the awkward moment with a wave of her hand, the variety of rings and beads adorning her digits jingling merrily with the action as she turned and re-entered the tent without waiting for a response.

Thomas glanced over at Minho, looking slightly hesitant and more than a little embarrassed, cheeks twinged pink and and lower lip held lightly between his teeth, but all the wolf could offer his companion was a simple shrug and with that they followed the mysterious woman inside.

The interior of the tent was no more modestly decorated than its outside, gaudy tapestries hanging from every wall and low hanging beads suspended from the ceiling, brushing against Minho's shoulders and swaying softly with his movement as the boy diligently followed his friend. It was thanks to supernaturally enhanced sight alone that the Keeper didn't run smack into the lithe silhouette that was his beautifully built boy in front of him. Apparently, gypsies are nocturnal creatures gifted with night vision, because the only light prevailing in the darkened tent was a single illuminated ball that sat in the middle of a small circular table in the center of the room and cast the tent in a dim, unnatural glow that revealed only a few meters around it.

"Fuck!" Thomas hissed loudly, efficiently breaking the calm, mystic atmosphere settled over the tent as a dull thump sounded and the boy stumbled back into Minho, who gripped the smaller teen by both arms and tugged him backwards, shoving his mate back and positioning his own body between the Runner and the rest of the tent to shield the boy.

"Oh yes, watch out for that box." The woman they'd followed inside chided distractedly, her voice dismissive as her shadowy silhouette moved in front of the glowing sphere and she came to sit on the opposite side of the table, facing the boys and leaning in over the glowing orb.

"Yes, Minho, watch out for that box." Thomas hissed annoyedly and rubbed his shin with a huff of irritation before continuing on toward the small table, proceeding much slower this time and keeping his gaze locked in front of his feet.

"Some of us aren't as accident prone as a walking disaster." Minho snarked jovially, flicking the kid in front of him in the back of the head and earning himself a sharp elbow thrown back behind his friend, the limb just catching the wolf in the side as the boy swerved to dodge the playful blow. However, the Keeper's skillful maneuver resulted in him running smack into some low rising, wooden item, obviously positioned there solely to spite him, with a loud thump as his knee cap slammed painfully into the sharp corner of the thing.

"And that one." The fortune teller advised belatedly, gesturing vaguely with a hand waving at her side to indicate the cursed item of which she spoke as Thomas finally reached the table and pulled out one of the chairs across from the woman and scrambled into it with a poorly muffled snicker.

"Little late." Minho growled bitterly under his breath as he finally reached his companion's side and yanked out the chair beside the brunette, gripping the item with one hand and lugging it backwards with a haphazard tug before dropping his body into it with one last indignant huff.

Now that her guests were finally both seated, the woman straightened in her chair and abruptly squeezed her eyes closed without bothering to explain a single thing, sucking in a deep breath as if preparing for something extraordinary. She froze like that for a long moment, straight as a board and appearing more like a statue than a living creature in that instant as silence settled over the scene like a thick blanket pulled out of a grandparent's dusty attic.

The moment stretched on until it hit awkward territory and Minho chanced a glance over at Thomas to see if the brunette, perhaps, had some sort of understanding of what the hell was happening because all the werewolf was getting from this scene was that the fortune teller had died on the spot and that they'd soon be charged with her murder.

Thomas turned his head slightly to meet his companion's questioning gaze, keeping his hazel eyes locked suspiciously on the statue of a chick as he moved before very briefly flashing his orbs over to the wolf with a sharp shrug, looking no more well informed than his friend.

Minho was just about to return the gesture and maybe suggest backing out of the tent slowly before the police came when the serenity of the scene broke with a loud, breathy gasp from the woman that absolutely did not startle the supernatural badass into jumping slightly in his seat.

The girl began to shake, her entire body shuddering with harsh tremors as her eyes rolled back toward the ceiling and her hands came down to grip the wooden table like a lifeline, her long, red, fake nails leaving gouges in the surface of the thing as if it were the only anchor holding her to this world.

Minho pushed his chair back from the table in a scrambling, uncoordinated frenzy, nearly falling out of the thing in his rush as he reached out and grabbed Thomas by the back of his shirt. The werewolf hauled his mate backwards, yanking the boy out of his chair and dragging the brunette back towards himself until his Runner nearly collapsed into him, all flailing limbs that nearly clipped Minho in the face as Thomas collided with the wolf and they both fell into Minho's chair in a tangle of limbs and bodies as each tried to grasp at the other in search of comfort and protection, creating a horrible knot that any sailor would be made sick to look at.

Hey, it wasn't overreacting, really. The woman looked fucking terrifying! The glass orb on the table that, mere moments ago, had just been faintly lummincent now beamed out light like the woman's tent was the hottest club in town and it was a Saturday Night Rave, casting the fortune teller's face in a eerie blue light that looked unnatural and left dark shadows under her gaudily painted eyes. Her long, auburn hair looked pale white in the radiance of the new found light and Minho was pretty sure her pupils had up and eloped because he could not, for the life of him, find them as her eyes rolled back farther than could possibly be considered healthy.

"The spirits, I hear them!" The woman declared in a voice that was as quiet and breathless as a whisper but as ragged and urgent as a scream. "They... They're saying..." The girl continued shakily, her voice wavering and shril as she paused every few moments to let another harsh tremor course through her body. "They're saying they need twenty bucks to continue this service." The fortune teller finally gasped out before abruptly collapsing on the table, her mysterious ball dimming back to its normal glow as she slumped against the wooden surface of the object.

Minho didn't bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatic theatrics and began the tedious task of untangling himself from the long limbed, brunette boy that was all but in his lap after the initial scare. The wolf only hoped Thomas couldn't feel the absolute exploding bass drum solo his heart had decided to begin playing but considering the Runner was still pressed tight up against the werewolf's chest, apparently still not quite over the shock, that naive hope was probably in vain. Maybe Thomas would just blame it on the fear they'd just experienced, the brunette did have a certain nack for being completely oblivious to Minho's increasingly obvious affections.

"Let's swear to never speak of this show of cowardice ever again." Thomas huffed lightly, his face twinged a deep shade of pink that was probably due to embarrassment from allowing himself to be startled by some dumb woman's little show and not for any other reason whatsoever. Most certainly not because the kid still had his hands twisted in the fabric of his companion's shirt or because Minho still had a strong arm encircling the brunette, still not having quite convinced his wolf to let go as it was sure actual danger could still spring up and snatch his mate away.

"Agreed." Minho huffed out breathlessly, really trying to let the world believe the lack of air in his lungs was due to the minor heart attack he'd just endured and not the brunette boy fitted snugly into his lap, still not having untangled himself from the wolf and doing absolutely horrible things to Minho's respiratory system.

Speaking of the eventual cause of Minho's inevitable cardiac arrest, he pushed himself up by way of splaying both hands across the broad expanse of the werewolf's chest and pressing down against the sturdy structure until he rose. The teen came eyelevel with Minho and grinned, a slight breath of a snicker escaping his full, pink lips as his hazel eyes glimmered with amusement now that the foolishness of their reaction had been made evident and- Wow. Yeah. Minho was legitimately going to melt into a puddle of uselessness if Thomas kept this up. A huge, nasty pool of uselessness right there on the floor.

Minho was totally about to deliver a super cool one liner that would woo Thomas to his knees when his plans tied themselves to a set of train tracks and sung along to the lovely sound of a freight whistle blowing. Meaning, of course, that Thomas decided to reach around behind the back of the chair and carefully slip his lithe fingers into the pocket where Minho kept the wallet containing their combined funds, because apparently that took priority over actually removing himself from his companion's lap - So, basically, Thomas just ruined Minho's ability to speak properly for the next twenty years.

Minho had never seen this coming, really. It wasn't like he put himself in charge of the pair's money in the hopes that one day a situation like this may occur - This was just... An added benefit.

Minho had put himself in charge of their money because Thomas was, admittedly, the most forgetful person to ever exist and it was no secret whatsoever which one of them was the more responsible of the two - Seriously, Minho had Kept about twenty runners for two years and had only lost, like... Nineteen. Well, he kept Thomas safe, okay? So just take his word for it he was more responsible than his oblivious crush that would undoubtedly loose his own head if it wasn't attached to his body and still might even then if it wasn't for Minho constantly worrying over him and keeping him from harm's way. It was just instinct to protect someone that careless, really.

Thomas's pink lips turned down slightly in a frown as he failed to procure his goal immediately and the boy shifted about experimentally in search of a better angle - All he was going to find if he kept that up, however, was Minho's boner as one usually tends to become aroused when the object of their desires was practically grinding against their lap and Minho was exceptionally arousable when it came to Thomas and all his unknowing torture.

The wolf's heart was attempting a reenactment of the civil war as he compliantly lifted his ass in hopes of aiding his questing friend, who was now practically straddling the teen in the small wooden chair in a way that rich men would've paid thousands for, one arm slung around the Keeper's neck for stability while the other groped blindly in search of the missing wallet. Thin, skilled fingers swept across the curve of Minho's jeans, pressing and feeling with methodical precision as the wolf bit down on his lower lip to smother what was undoubtedly going to be an absolutely wanton groan if he let it escape.

Minho's wolf whined. Literally keening out a desperate whimper of untold want as the Keeper tried to think about anything but the way his hips were angled upwards and pressing against the course material of Thomas's own jeans. His usual method of boner kill - picturing saggy grandma tits - was rendered useless in his current situation as there was absolutely no ignoring the pressure of his mate perched so prettily atop him or the feel of perfect, careful fingers squeezing their way around the expanse of the Keeper's ass cheek.

Yeah, okay, point proven, universe. You could stop this ungodly torment now. The werewolf had learned his lesson and would appreciate not dying of blue balls anytime soon - Maybe it was more than instinct that had the werewolf protecting the younger boy like he was some sort of Jade Buddha in a classic Jackie Chan movie in which everyone was after this one pointless statue for some inexplicable reason, okay? He was completely and wholeheartedly enraptured, fine? You happy? But Thomas was his and he wasn't about to let anything lay a scratch on his precious mate.

Apparently, the universe was not so forgiving - Minho would like to say it was a cold, unkind thing but really he could find nothing unkind about his predicament, quite the opposite in fact. Especially when Thomas gave up on his earlier quest and instead splayed his hand on Minho's thigh and decided running his palm along the inside of the muscle would be a totally fine thing to do while still straddling his supposedly platonic best friend.

"Did you put it in your front pocket?" The brunette questioned in explanation for his sudden change of groping tactic, bringing the hand that had been wrapped around the wolf's neck around to brace on the teen's chest instead as the younger boy leaned back to get a look at his companion's front pocket.

Minho tried to reply, that no, he was pretty damn sure he'd put it in his back pocket but all that came out was the most unmasculine squeak the boy had ever uttered that tried to end in a breathy moan despite the fact that the werewolf immediately clamped his jaws shut once more to smother the sound.

"Huh, if you're really sure I guess I'll try the other side." Thomas replied with a shrug, apparently knowing Minho well enough to somehow translate that disgrace of a sound and immediately slipping his devilish hand back around to feel around his companion's untouched ass cheek, his other hand sliding up Minho's chest to wrap around his neck once more as the younger teen leaned forward.

Minho was on fire. There was no other possible words to describe what this felt like. His heart was a burning pool of molten lava and its heat spread through his body until every limb tingled with the heat of the lapping flames, leaving the werewolf practically trembling as he fought to keep his ravenous beast under restraints. The urge to simply grab his mate's perfect hips to keep him in place while the wolf devoured the sexy boy and drove his own hips upwards until his love was broken and claimed was practically overwhelming and all Minho wanted was to hear his mate moan for him.

His eyes were glowing, there was no question about that. There was no hope of holding back the luminescent blue glow as his wolf strained to break free of the thin tethers that were Minho's self control and the wolf was pretty sure his fangs were already making a guest appearance considering it was taking everything the teen had just to keep his nails blunt and unclawed, unwilling to accidentally dig his mini daggers into the soft flesh of Thomas's hips where his hands had instinctually come to rest, wrapping around the curve of the boy's waist with his thumb brushing gently against the bone.

So, maybe Minho didn't exactly think it through before burying his face in Thomas's neck to hide his canine features from sight...

The already struggling werewolf's world became a haze of mate - Thomas's sweet scent flooded the wolf's senses and left them dull as his mind became a blank slate. Honey and sunshine with a hint of lemon all combined together with the underlying smell of happiness that Minho would do anything to scent on his boy all the time, would literally kill to keep his baby smelling like that. Besides that was a heavy overtone of that addictive, unignorable sweetness that left Minho's wolf salivating and blew all of the boy's self control away in a single breath. It was manipulating, controlling, there was no way Minho could deny its pull and, with Thomas literally straddling his lap, the Keeper wasn't quite sure he wanted too.

Actually, the wolf was absolutely positive that he wanted to do nothing less than fight his urge to mark what was his. He wanted to bite, to lick, to claim. He wanted Thomas to be his and he wanted everyone to know it - To see his claiming bite on the boy's gorgeous, pale flesh and know that the brunette was his. Taken. To be touched and tainted by him alone and unquestionably off limits. He wanted to bite. He wanted to claim. He wanted Thomas.

"Oh! Here it is!" Thomas declared victoriously and rose from the seat in a single smooth motion, brandishing the wallet above his head like a trophy and grinning excitedly at his companion who could do naught but give a weak and shaky smile in return - Not sure if he was thankful for the sudden removal of his tempting mate or not...