They remained good friends besides, and the few days of a relationship they'd had soon faded into the annals of high school dramas. In fact, Will himself would be dating another girl just weeks after the Homecoming, and...well...Layla wasn't exactly lonely...
"Warren?"
No answer.
"Warren Peace?"
"What?" A voice groggily asked from the direction of the back of the small house. Layla smiled. Mrs. Peace had let Layla in on her way out to work, so the two of them were all alone, and Layla wouldn't have it any other way. Despite appearances, Layla wasn't naïve. She'd seen how Warren had looked at her and was after getting him to look at her that way again.
"Your mom let me in!" Layla yelled back, shrugging out of her coat and walking towards the sound of his voice.
"Well, I'm sleeping so fuck off..."
Layla grinned. No one ever spoke to her that way but Warren. Everyone thought her too "sensitive" for that kind of thing, but just hearing it coming out of his mouth made things low in her belly tighten and tingle. She wanted him to whisper those kind of words into her ear while he...well...that comes later...
Layla walked up a small set of stairs to the second floor where one bedroom, Warren's, was. You may ask how she knew it was his? Well, the death metal posters gave her a clue. Despite that dark omen to what his room would look like, it didn't look the way she'd thought. Not lots of black, not a lot of dead puppies. It looked like a normal teenage boy's bedroom, if a little singed. Warren himself was lying on top of his bed, headphones on but aware that she was there.
He cocked his head and eyed her coolly, the same way he had since Homecoming, when she'd "chosen" Will Stronghold. She was tired of that coolness in his eyes. "I thought I told you to fuck off?"
Layla dropped her purse on the inside of the door and climbed up onto his king-sized bed with him. What the hell was a teenage boy doing with a big ass bed like this? "I thought you said you were sleeping?" Layla tapped his headphones where they lay on his ears.
He shrugged. "I was."
"You don't look tired."
"And you look like you're in the wrong neighborhood. Wrong house for that matter."
Layla smiled and lay down beside him, making sure that every line of her body touched his. "I've been thinking."
"That's a shocker." Was that a hitch she caught in his voice? Surely that was her imagination that her close proximity would do something to the stoic boy beside her?
"Seriously."
Warren sighed and removed his headphones. "Okay. What have you been thinking?"
"I've been thinking I'd like to fuck you."
Silence. Then, with an incredulous look on his face, Warren rose up onto his elbow and looked down at her. Finally, she grinned and asked, "What?"
"Did you seriously just say that?"
"Yeah."
"Layla!"
"What!"
"Go find yourself a hero or something, cause it ain't happening."
"Why not?" She asked, sitting up to glare down at him.
Warren sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Cause, we're not alike."
"How? I like you! You like me!"
"As a friend!"
Layla smiled and lay back down, even closer than before. "A friend didn't take me to Homecoming..."
"Yes, he did."
"...and wear a tux..."
"Yeah, he did."
"...and feel me up while we were dancing."
No comment.
Layla did the only thing she could think of doing. She kissed him. Leaned up and brushed his lips with her's. With a moan, Warren wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Layla did the only thing she could do, and wanted to do...she gave into it, and him.
Warren wasn't thinking about how he was mostly villain inside, and how she was too good for him. He wasn't thinking of how it'd hurt to watch her float in the air and have her first kiss with Will Stronghold. He was thinking of how good she felt in his arms and under him. He was thinking of how sweet her mouth was and how he never wanted to stop kissing her.
Eventually, as these situations always do, it heated up. Suddenly, clothes were in the way and quickly discarded. Warren's hand on her inner thigh made Layla giggle, but her hand on his made him moan.
Warren kissed his way down her neck, until he hovered over her bosom, which was still covered by a lacy green bra. Just the sensation of his breath on the sensitive skin there had her hips moving beneath his and bucking slightly. Warren smiled and licked his way over the mounds on her chest before clenching his teeth around one of her nipples. Suddenly, it was burning up in that room, and with his help, her bra was flung away. Layla wrapped her hands in his long hair and held on to what sanity she had left.
Warren wasn't satisfied with her just being topless, and with his one spare hand, the other holding him up so he wasn't crushing her; he pulled at her skirt until it was up above her hips. He took a minute to take a long look at her, from her flushed skin, to her biting her lip to keep from moaning, to her leaf-green underwear, already wet and moving beneath him. Warren gave into the temptation, and slowly slid his hand underneath that lacy band, and his finger into those small curls. Layla's eyes shot open and for a second the grip she had on his hair tightened, before she released completely. Layla relaxed on the bed, moaning, and panting as she fisted her hands in his sheets.
Warren moved his finger, delighting in the sounds it caused Layla to have. He watched as she panted and moaning and shook her head into her first orgasm, and all it did was make his dick harder. However, he wasn't sure what to do now. With all the other girls he'd been with, they'd been older and experienced, and he hadn't had to worry. He was pretty sure Layla was a virgin.
Layla took the decision away from him, when she rolled over on top of him. Without saying a word, she pulled at his shirt until he helped her pull it off. She sat on top of him, her chest still heaving from what he'd done to her, and Warren memorized the moment. He'd remember it for years and years, and it would be fond.
Layla slowly ran her hand down his chest, touching the small sprinkling of hair that surrounded his navel. Then, slowly, she bent and touched her tongue to his neck, nibbling at it until he ran his hand down her thigh, jerking her attention to his hands. She rose up a bit then slid back down, directly on top of his erection. The only thing protecting them was two bits of cotton and a little shyness.
Shyness wasn't shit compared to a horny teenager and a girl with a yen, and with a quick move Warren was on top again. He didn't stay there for long, rising up so that he was kneeling between her legs. Layla watched him as he slowly pulled her panties off, his eyes glowing with passion.
Warren looked up, meeting her eyes, and froze. "Are you sure?"
Layla smiled and reached up with her hands, snaking them into his pants and around his penis. "Does that answer your question?"
Warren nodded, and slammed his eyes shut as Layla pulled his dick out and began to rub. Up and down, squeezing and pulling until he was afraid he'd shoot off right then. With an iron grip he grabbed her hand, pulling it away. He slid down on top of her, and she grinned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. With one move of his hips, he was laying between her legs, his swollen head rubbing against her, taunting her. He was more skilled at this than her, knew more tricks, but he felt like an amateur.
Finally, he eased inside, Layla gasping, and he gritted his teeth. She felt so good, so right, so tight. He could feel her gripping him, her heels in his back, her teeth in his shoulder and he couldn't move. If he moved the moment would be gone, never found again, Heaven lost, and not a soul to save.
Finally, Layla jerked beneath him and he slammed home, tightly inside her, breath released on a moan. Layla screamed a bit, then sighed, a small tear leaking out of her eye. Warren hated to hurt her, and bent to kiss it away. Layla turned her head, brushing her lips with his and he felt her lips curve before speaking. "Again."
Warren pulled out, and slid back in. Again, and again. His hand ran down her side, cupping her ass and pulling her up so that he could get deeper. She bit his shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat, fighting back the moans that seemed so animalistic even muffled.
Faster and faster they moved together, the bed creaking under the exertion, small licks of flame moving over their forms, sweat and panting combining until it was as humid as a rainforest in there. Ivy slowly grew up the walls, not green, but red, red hot. Their powers joining as sure as they were, the sensations making everything blind but each other.
Warren was moving too fast to watch now, slamming into her fragile hips, a small slapping sound each time. Layla panted and moved and tried to keep up but there was something inside her, tightening and growing and making it impossible to breathe.
Warren stiffened above her, and his thrusts became erratic, violent, and hard. Layla stopped resisting and fell into that ball of sensation, screaming as wave after wave of euphoria raced through her, the pulsing of her muscles finally pulling Warren to his own orgasm. They stayed like that, locked in those abating waves until they could breathe again.
Warren rolled over, pulling her with him. "So."
Layla smiled weakly. "So."
"We never got your skirt off."
"So that's what was pinching my ass."
"Uhhh...no."
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