Magenta likes kissing Layla. She likes the gentle glide of Layla's soft lips against her own, the flowery scent of the other girl that always slips into her nostrils and caresses her mind. She likes cupping Layla's face in her hands, stroking her smooth skin, nipping along her jaw and sucking at her throat. She likes how Layla plays with her hair, running fingers through it, twining strands of it with her own, black-purple-red stretching between them.

Magenta likes kissing Layla deeper, licking into her mouth, catching her breath away, tongues dancing together and teeth tugging on lips, bodies and breasts pressing closer. She likes the tiny gasps Layla makes, wants to hear those all the time, know she's the one causing them.

Magenta likes kissing Layla and she never wants to stop.