Fifth Harmony/you One Shots

Too Hot * (Camila/You)

"So, what's this game called again?"

"Well, it's not a game," Camila says, seemingly flushed. "I mean, it's supposed to be a game, but I bet it's just something someone came up with and wrote in the pic I found on the net."

"We're going to play it?"

"Yes."

"Then it's a game."

Camila finally nods while placing two glasses of clear water in the coffee table. Then she plops down next to me.

"It's called 'Too Hot'," she answers.

"What's it about?"

"We're supposed to kiss without stopping, and without touching each other. Whoever touches the other first loses."

"So," I tell her, "what will I win?"

Camila chuckles. "The winner gets to do whatever she wants with the other."

"Sounds like fun."

She straightens her back, smiling. "Let's do this."

I smirk. "At least let me cup a feel before doing it."

"Y/N!"

"What? You know I like it. We've been alone all day and you have barely kissed me."

"If you're implying I've been teasing you to have an advantage in the game-"

"I wasn't implying anything." My eyes narrow suspiciously at her.

"Well," she hesitates. "I wasn't."

I begin adjusting my bra in my chest, making a very big deal of it. My smile widens when her eyes fall inevitably and her lower-lip is trapped between her teeth.

"You were saying something about teasing me?"

"I love you," she whispers dizzily. Her hands are soon cupping my breasts through my shirt and bra. Mine do the same. "Your back must be sore every day when you go to bed, huh?"

I laugh. "Is that seriously the sort of things that go through your head while touching my boobs?"

"Yes. I mean, no-" She looks up at me through fogged eyes. "It's a train of thought."

"Whatever." I draw my hands back to my sides and tell her "Okay, let's do it".

We end up kneeling in front of the TV set, hands behind our backs. Camila looks excited. I'm sort of irritated. I sometimes wish having sex with my girlfriend could be simpler-then I remember I'm dating this particular girl and I mentally laugh sadly at my own ingenuity.

"Ready?"

"Let's just have sex, Cami."

"Oh, come on," she whines, "It'll be fun!"

I kiss her while she's still unaware. But it takes me two minutes to understand that this isn't a game: it's a competition.

And Camila is extremely good at it. Her lips move slowly but firmly, and her tongue dances confidently inside my mouth. Our heads bend right and left in sync. I try to keep my eyes open, in a way to maintain the heat under control; it proves to be impossible. She starts moaning ten minutes into the action, and she leans into me, pushing me backward. And I begin to feel the weight of the defeat.

Her body's warm in front of mine, and it radiates energy; and it filters through my skin and gets into my veins and runs all the way to my heart so that it speeds up until I can hear it in my ears. And Camila begins to be too much. I want to touch her. I want her hands to cup me and caress me.