Let's see, yesterday I was up at like 2 in the morning, laughing and arguing with my cousin about cereal. I love my Frosted Mini Wheats. She loves her Apple Jacks. Apparently my Wheaties are actually fucked up Wheat Thins. XDD In the Wheat Thin factory, apparently when there's a defective Wheat Thin, it's sold to the Wheaties company. XDD And apparently they're gonna stop making Wheaties because Wheat Thins will finally learn how to not fuck up and Wheaties will die out except for the Wheaties that Wheatie junkies like me hoard in our kitchen cupboards. Then when the apocalypse comes, all the people who ate Apple Jacks are gonna be eating Apple Jacks with Jesus and all the Wheaties eaters are gonna be down here eating their Wheaties with Satan blowing fire up their asses. Hehehe...she REALLY doesn't like my Wheaties...

But she also thinks that it's dumb that Apple Jacks are called that, because CinnaMon always wins. So she thinks that they should be called Cinnamin Jacks. To which I pointed out, sounds like some pirate name. I also think it's odd that a talking cinnamin stick with a fucking Jamaican accent gets this weirdass Apple Jacks bat signal thing that sends him running to dive into a fucking bowl of orange and green fruitloops with little brown specs all over them. XDD And to top that off, this talking spice also seems to have a rival! A fat, red apple that wears Chucks and tries to beat the cinnamin stick to the bowl of random Apple Jacks each time!

So excuse me. At least my Wheaties are sofisticated, and bent on randomly helping children by 'keeping them full' and sitting on their shoulders, barking good advice at them all day long! My Wheaties also have a fucking DOG! Beat that freakin Bad Apple and CinnaMon! Although I have no doubt that those two could beat my Wheatie Boys in a fight XDDD They're just too nice to win a fight.

Enough about cereal my friends. I gladly hand you another chapter of Oxygen that contains lovely, hot, and violent sex!

~Will's POV~

I brushed my hair back with a sigh. The stereo on the stand was playing some good alternative that I hadn't heard before. But at this point it was simply background noise. I flipped through the pages of my Super History textbook. How exactly was I supposed to understand what made The Reflection's death so poetic and tragic? Wasn't the guy a notorious, murderous super villain back in the 1920's? I wonder…if Warren's coming…What's so poetic about this guy's de…oh…

I bit my lip and drew my notebook closer to me and started scribbling down the answer to number 7c. As I did I shook my head, That's why…

"Hey, Will!"

I glanced up from where I was sitting on the couch. I heard Layla close the door behind her and come walking through the house. She came into the living room, spotted me on the couch and smiled. She was still dressed in the long grass colored skirt and the flowered t-shirt that she'd worn at school today. But her hair that had been down had been pulled up into a messy, but good-looking bun.

"Hey, Layla." I said, and looked back down at my notebook where I kept writing.

She came over and sat next to me on the couch. "Whatcha doin'?" she asked, looking at all of my textbooks and homework. She whistled, "Wow."

I nodded, "I know." Then I paused and looked at her, "Did you know that The Reflection was killed by his own twin brother?"

Layla raised her eyebrows, "The Reflection had a twin brother?" I nodded, "Yeah, a super hero. He was called, uh," I looked at my Super History textbook, "Gossamer. He had the power of invisibility and he had superhuman reflexes. It says here that in a battle with The Reflection, Gossamer cast no reflection for his brother to manipulate. To distract him, he became visible, and when The Reflection was crossing to another mirror, Gossamer grabbed him in his lucent state right by the heart and ripped it right out of his chest."

Layla grimaced, "Gross. This is what you're learning about in your Hero classes?"

I shrugged, "Mrs. Elaqua is a real history buff, but she's also kinda psycho so…you know…"

Layla shrugged and nodded her head, "Yeah…But hey, me and Magenta are going to the mall to meet Ethan and Zack at that new laser tag course. You wanna come along?"

We jumped at the sound of a car horn. Layla and I looked at each other.

"Layla! The next bus into the city is coming in five minutes so get your ass out here!"

Layla smiled, "So do you? Gotta decide quick or Magenta might devour us." I smiled lightly. And shook my head, "Nah."

"Why not?"

Because Warren Peace may very possibly be coming over to shove me to the floor, hit me several times, and nearly burn me alive while screwing me right to the point where I can't move a single inch of a muscle. "Just all this homework. I'll go with you guys some other time." I said gently, shifting my textbook so it covered an erection that had decided to spring to life at the mere thought of the dominant, sadistic pyro's name.

Layla frowned, "Are you sure? I don't wanna leave you alone here doing homework while me and the guys are at the mall. It doesn't seem fair."

I cocked an eyebrow, "Since when do you encourage me to ditch on my homework?"

Layla smirked and cocked an eyebrow back, "Since we all haven't been able to hang out much since you were placed in Hero class."

"LAYLA!" Magenta's voice roared. We jumped when the door was thrown open and in came Magenta, stomping with her boots. Magenta was all narrowed eyes for Layla. "What is taking so long? I really prefer not to wait for the next bus. Is he coming with us or not?"

Layla shook her head, "No. He's got a lot of homework to do."

Then Magenta fixated her eyes on me. And there was that cold feeling in the pit of my stomach under her dark eyed gaze. Her Asian complexion and slightly slanted eyes made her seem like a hypnotic snake. Except she wasn't hypnotizing, nor hypnotized. She seemed intrigued. Good god, I thought I could feel her pillaging around in my mind, seeing what had happened the previous night with Warren, seeing all of the feelings I had had, the thoughts. When the corner of her lip twitched, I was absolutely sure that she knew.

But then she lifted her penetrating gaze from me and looked back at Layla, "Well let's stop feeling pity for him and go. C'mon, we can bring him back an empty candy wrapper or something." She turned, dragging Layla by the wrist. "See ya tomorrow Will!" They closed the door behind them.

And then I swallowed the apple sized lump in my throat and brushed the cold sweat from my forehead. I was going to have to get the guts to politely and privately ask Magenta to stop penetrating me…No that sounds wrong. Probing me? No, no, probing my brain. There. That's it.

I heaved a sigh and rubbed at my eyes, bringing my bare feet up to rest on the coffee table. I glanced at my watch. It had taken about two hours total for me to finish my homework. Most of that time had been spent with my mind wandering away to wonderment and curiosity, resulting in a whining pulse of blood behind the zipper of my jeans. I'd done my best to ignore it with the boring facts of Sky High hero class homework. It hadn't worked very much of course…

Over the music playing from the radio, I heard the door close hard and then I heard heavy footsteps coming in. Aw man… I pressed my lips together and muttered, "Shit." Then I pushed myself to my feet and started out of the living room, "Hey, Dad. I thought you were working late tonight with Mom to meet that quota for that Hawaii trip thingy you guys want so b…"

I froze where I was, my mouth drying up and my heart pausing a moment. I wasn't looking up at my dad, but up at the long haired pyro that's been plaguing my thoughts for weeks; and especially this afternoon. He stared dully down at me, his eyes almost shut because he was so much taller than me. His leather jacket was zipped up to his collarbone and the hole in the right knee of his jeans was frayed. His long hair was ever so slightly mussed and he looked irritated.

I felt a shiver prickle across my ribs. I swallowed to wet my throat, looking up at him. My hands were trembling. And just the superior gaze staring down at me, just the thought of how much power he had over me just made blood glide smoothly into my already interested penis.

Then he moved. Only slightly. His head tilted slightly to one side. It was a sharp movement, like an intrigued predator. And good god, I was the prey.

I wet my lips and tried my best to speak clearly, "H-hi. I didn't,"

My voice stopped in my throat when his big, strong hand shot up and grabbed me by it. I gagged and he slammed me hard up against the wall. His fingers squeezed my throat hard and I gasped. His head tilted down at me, and his eyes were so hooded and dark looking down at me. I pulled in a breath with a small cry. I jumped when the fingers of his opposite hand slipped under the hem of my shirt and snaked up my chest. I shivered against his touch, still gasping for a full breath. Then his palm pressed a muted, searing hot flame to my breastbone.

With the breath I'd managed to gather in my lungs, I yelled out, squeezing my eyes shut. I squirmed, unable to escape even though I could, but forgot that I could. But I would never try and I knew it. He most likely knew it too.

In my ear I heard him growl, "Where's your room?" His fingertips dragged what felt like fiery hot claws down my chest and I yelled out again. Panting and hardly able to breathe, I gasped, "Up…hrn! Up…st-stairs…"

Then it was all gone and I was flying across the foyer. I landed hard on the steps. I coughed, and gasped, reaching to my abused throat. I waited for the blunt pain of the toe of his boot driving itself into my vulnerable sides. But no blow came. Instead I felt his hand seize a fistful of my hair. I cried out, my hands going to my head as he dragged me up the stairs.

I brought my legs under me, almost crawling as he dragged me upward. At the top he threw me against the opposite wall and I hit it with a grunt. My scalp tingled with pain. Before I could manage to look up at him, he grabbed me by the shoulders, lifted me up and shoved his knee into my stomach. Then he let me fall down again, wheezing and coughing for breath.

I looked up at him, tears brimming my eyes and panting heavily. His eyes were almost closed as he glared down at me. He drove a hard kick right into my side and I yelled out, groaning and panting at the pain.

I didn't realize that I was writhing so much until he lifted his boot and pressed it against the side of my neck, pressing me into floor. Each exhale brought out desperate, frightened whimpers from me. My hands blindly grasped at the floor, trembling. He reached to the zipper of his leather jacket and pulled it down. He wasn't even wearing a shirt underneath.

I brushed my tongue across my lower lip that had become dry in all of my hard breathing. I wasn't sure if it was because I was scared, or because I was…hungry.

He lifted his boot from my neck and reached down. My hands went to my head and I let out a grunt when he grabbed a fistful of my hair again. He dragged me up so I was sort of crouching. His firm grip jerked me down the hall, constantly making me go to my knees, bringing out my pained cries. "Ah! W…Warren, please!" I wasn't exactly sure what I was begging him to do. It didn't make much of a difference to him though. Even though he threw me onto the neatly spread blankets of my bed, I felt like it was of his own influence and had nothing to do my cries. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his leather jacket hit the floor and heard him kick my bedroom door shut.

I felt him grab the back of shirt and he yanked it off of me. His blazing hot palms pressed hard into my shoulder blades. My hands grasped at the sheets and I let out a scream. I ground my forehead into the blue fabric, screaming, as his hands lit up with fire and dragged themselves up and down my back. I bit down on my lip, but couldn't stifle another scream.

One of his hands slipped under me, and I gasped. His fingers undid the button and yanked down the zipper. His fingertips felt like he was dragging white hot razor blades down my spine, opening my skin and sending the heat deep within. I screamed so loudly, Warren, it hurts so much!

I felt his hands yank down my boxers and shorts. He grabbed my thighs and forced them under me, making me grunt and cry out. He pressed his burning hand to the back of my neck, pushing me hard into the mattress. I heard his belt buckle clink and the sound of the zipper of his jeans. I fisted the sheets, whimpering in anticipation, especially when I heard the condom wrapper tear. The flames dragged themselves down my back, making me squirm and scream.

Then I felt him shove himself inside of me, seizing my hips in his fiery grip. And I was reintroduced to that mighty pain. My head jerked back, and my mouth dropped open with a long scream. The pain hadn't changed at all. It was like the first time all over again. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tremendous pain of his strong thrusts so deeply inside me.

With every heavy thrust, he filled me up almost entirely. I swore I could almost feel him in my stomach. I felt like his erection was almost hotter than his fiery hands. God, it hurt. It was so amazing. I could hardly breathe and with every gulp of air I managed, it came back out as a moan through clenched teeth or a crying scream. My penis was so hard and aching, but I couldn't get my hands to let go of the sheets to relieve the building tension.

My screams were at one point separated by gasps. And those points were when Warren angled his thrust perfectly to slam into that spot inside of me that caused the familiar dark patches to dance across my eyes and the dizziness to spin inside of my skull. And it was happening more and more and I was screaming and moaning louder and louder.

Every muscle inside of me was tensing up. The chords in my neck were flexing so hard that I could feel them burn as my head turned back and forth against the mattress as he thrust harder and faster. I was writhing underneath him, but his strong, flaming hands kept my hips right where he wanted them. My toes curled harshly and my abs tightened. My hand shot back and grasped his right thigh.

I felt his hard thigh muscles clench and twitch away from my touch. I heard him growl. Then his right hand swiftly seized my wrist, moved it from his thigh, and then seized my other wrist. Suddenly my wrists were manacled in his big hands above my head and pressed hard into the mattress. His bare chest was pressed over my assaulted back, and his thrusts were coming impossibly faster and harder.

I screamed so loudly that the entire neighborhood could probably hear me. His chest lit up in a raging inferno against my back, and I intensely came, making darkness take over my gaze. His erection became searing hot inside of me and I felt the muscles in his chest and stomach clench as he huskily grunted. And he collapsed, right on top of my trembling, paralyzed body.

I could smell his wondrous scent of spicy fire and leather. I coud feel his hot breath against my neck. I could feel his hair splayed against my skin. I could feel his warm skin against mine. I could feel his warm hands so close to mine. I could feel the warmth of him still inside of me.

But too quickly, he lifted himself silently off of me, and yanked himself from my insides, making me jump and cry out. I heard him do up his jeans and buckle his belt. I heard him stride across my room and the ruffle of his leather jacket as he pulled it on and zipped it up. I heard his boots go down the stairs and the door slam behind him. Through my open window I heard a motorcycle roar to life and then gunned away until I couldn't hear it anymore.

Lying there collapsed on my bed, my breathing was shuddering and my body was quivering. I couldn't move. I felt like I could fall asleep, but then again I felt like I was wide awake and couldn't fall asleep even if I tried.

I have no clue how long it was before I managed to make myself lie on my side. I moved my pillows to look at my clock. The numbers said that it was almost six o'clock. Late to my parents could usually range anytime from 6:30pm to 11pm.

I gotta get up…clean up…I looked down at myself, Cover up…

There was a red handprint in the middle of my chest, right on my breastbone. Through and around it, there were red tendrils that were left behind by his dragging fingertips. I could only imagine what my back looked like. Either way, I was in pain. A lot of pain. At the moment I really wasn't sure if I wanted to get up. But I had to. I couldn't just let my parents come home and waltz into my room and find me like this.

With a mostly still hand, I pushed myself up to my hands and knees. Ow…

I backed myself up and placed my feet on the floor one at a time, holding the waistband of my boxers and shorts in a hand. I bit my lip and gingerly reached down to pick up my shirt. Ow…

Then I limped from my room, making sure I was covered in the front and back. When I got into the bathroom, I closed the door. I put my shirt on the counter and let my shorts and boxers drop to the floor. I stepped out of them and turned to the shower. I turned the water on so it was comfortably warm on my hand. I licked my lips and looked over my shoulder at my reflection.

My skin was dark red, dark blue, purple, black. Bruised, scraped and burned. There were five dark red trails from his fingertips. I remembered how it had felt like paper-thin razors slicing open my skin and penetrating deeply with heat. I looked down at my hips. My left hip was a mass of dark fiery bruises and burns. My right hip was the same, except it was the same perfect handprint. I gently placed my own against it. It didn't fit to his big handprint and it hurt.

I brushed my hand through my hair and swallowed. Then I stepped into the shower. I jumped and bit my lip when the spray touched my back. I silently washed my hair and carefully washed my skin. I thought about the pain he had given to me. The second time was even more amazing than the first time and I didn't think that was possible. But it was.

I thought about how he'd laid on top of me. Well, technically he'd collapsed on top of me… I figured that he wouldn't have willingly. I thought about how much I'd liked…loved the feel of him. How badly I'd wanted to touch his hair. How badly I'd wanted to feel his breath on my lips, and perhaps his own lips against mine.

I still didn't exactly understand the deeper part of this situation. If there is a deeper part…

I was pretty sure that he most likely still hated my guts, hated my dad. This was probably just a meaningless fuck for him. He was a sadist and I was the masochist who enjoyed the pain as much as he did, if not more. He was satisfying a need, probably not thinking about my own. But then again he did acknowledge them.

"Me knocking you from room to room is probably what you had in your masochistic little mind."

"I know you're just dying for me to hit you."

I turned the shower off and brushed the water from my hair with my fingers. I dried my hair and very cautiously patted my body dry. I tossed the towel into the hamper and stepped into my boxers and shorts. I pulled them up gingerly, did up the button and closed the zipper. Then, while biting my lip, I warily drew my shirt over my head and lowered the hem down to my waist.

I could easily keep my back away from the back of my chair at the dinner table. But I dreaded sitting down. For most of the day in school I had spent it squirming in my chair, usually bringing a foot under me and leaning forward so I would be putting less pressure on my backside.

So I sort of hoped that when my parents said late, they meant late late, as in 11pm. Then I wouldn't have to sit at the dinner table and have a family dinner where Mom and Dad would most likely notice my fidgeting. I just wanted to heat up something in the microwave for myself, eat it standing up in the kitchen, or maybe stretch out on my stomach upon the living room floor and watch TV while I ate. I don't know. Something safe. The less pain I was in, the less likely I was to gather another erection.

And at the moment I felt as if another erection would probably kill me after having such an eruptive orgasm. But then again, I'd been noticing lately that my…endurance…was heightening. I sighed and combed my hair with my fingers.

"Will!"

"Will! We're home!"

I closed my eyes, "Damn it…"

~Warren's POV~

I brushed the side of my leather jacket from my side, and leaned down slightly to line up the shot. Then I sunk the 8 right into the far left pocket, finishing the game. My opponent, who'd been leaning on his cue, threw his head back to the ceiling and groaned. I stood back up straight and leaned my pool cue against the pool table.

The guy heaved a long sigh and itched at his goatee. Then he reached into his pocket and drew out his wallet, "You play a good game there, Slick. Guess you get to keep the cash…and your shirt."

The whole game had been started with the guy's simple interest in my black phoenix t-shirt. The sensitivity in my back had reduced so I'd managed to be comfortable in my t-shirt while right after the fucking acupuncture appointment, I had preferred the gentle coolness of my leather jacket. Just thinking of the sensitivity made me think of how Stronghold had grabbed my thigh, his fingers pressing hard into the exact areas where Yun Ting had stuck me. It had sent a jolt right through my nerves.

He picked a hundred dollar bill from the fold of his wallet and then counted out five twenties. He made it obvious as he did it. He was clearly a regular gambler and knew to make the amount of cash he paid very obvious to avoid getting beat up or worse for jipping anyone he lost to. He stacked them and handed them over to me. I palmed them and counted them out in my hand anyways. I'd seen him count it out but I'd seen several tricks in the trade. Without looking closer one or two of the bills might have 'accidently' stuck to his fingers.

Then I reached up and ran a fingertip under my eye, looking around the place. Smoke was hanging in the air. There were all kinds of weeknight delinquents around. Guys who thought they looked tough. Guys who knew they were tough. Chicks that were cruising for prize cash. Chicks that were distinctly cruising for a lay. A couple of bartenders who were not just dealing drinks.

For fuck's sake… I ran a hand down the side of my face. I looked at the guy I'd beaten. He was taking out a pack of cigarettes. He slipped one in between his lips. "Mind if I bum one of you? I'll let you keep a bill or two."

The guy looked up and smiled, "Nah. You can buy me a drink though." He handed me a cigarette and I handed him a twenty back. "Buy your own damn drink." I growled and I walked toward the back of The Gray Cue. Some blonde chick wearing a tight leather corset top and a small black skirt ran her hand down my arm, "Hey there, honey, you lookin' for,"

"No." I hissed and I kept going till I was right out the back door and into the night of the alleyway. The door closed behind me, taking away the light that the inside of the bar had shed into the alley. It also muffled the noise, bringing the sound of the alleyway to my ears just as I had snapped my fingers and was bringing the flame close to light up my cigarette.

"Get off me!"

"C'mon Baby!"

"Where you think you're goin', hah?"

"Somebody help me!"

I lifted my unlit cig from my lips and looked up the alley. Just what it sounded like. Two guys in hoods jerking around some good-looking girl near the back of a dark alleyway. I looked longingly at the cigarette.

"Somebody help me!"

I grumbled, flicked the cig and reached in my back pocket. I yanked out my bandana and unfolded it as I strode up the alley. I folded it in half the triangle way and draped it over my face. I was coming up on them as I was tying it under my hair behind my head.

The two thugs noticed me just as I'd doubled the knot. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Get the fuck outta here, we ain't sharin'!"

I flinted my arms with a growl, and they lit up in furious flame that lit up the alley. The thugs, and the girl all jumped and cried out in shock. The girl was shoved back and the guy on the left flicked out a switchblade, "G-g-g-get the fuck away! I'll cut you, I swear!"

I strode forward, reaching out and melting the blade without even touching it. I lifted my fists, and landed six in his torso and then I gave him a good punch in the jaw, sending him right into a dumpster where he stayed. The other son of a bitch came up behind me and tried to stab me in the side. He succeeded only about an inch and a half deep before my reflexes snapped and I grabbed his wrist and swung him across the alleyway. I threw a palm of fire at him, and his hoodie lit up in flames. He started flailing and screaming.

When he forced his hoodie over his head, I hurried forth and landed a good sweep kick right to his left ribs. He pulled in a gasp and couched, making him and his hoodie fall to the ground. So I leaned down, picked him up as he screamed and wiggled, and threw him into the dumpster to join his friend.

It wasn't too much of an exertion, and I was only panting slightly. I pressed a hand to my side where I could feel hot, sticky blood. I looked to the girl who was sitting on the ground with her back pressed against the bricks. She stared with wide, admiring eyes at me.

I heard her breathe, "Thank you so much."

I turned away and growled as I started back down the alley, "You made me lose my cigarette."

"Wait! Wait!" I heard her stand up, and her high heels click as she followed after me. "I owe you my life! You can have mine! Hell, you can have the whole pack!"

"No, thanks, lady. Tryin' to quit." I ground out through my teeth behind my bandana. At this point I had to get out of there. At this point I probably wouldn't be able to go back to The Gray Cue for a long time.

"There's gotta be somethin' I can do for you! My god…I've never seen a super up so close. Never been saved by one before either. What's your name?"

I rolled my eyes upward as I exited the valley. I went over to my Harley that was parked amongst a bunch of other good looking bikes. While I'd been inside, somebody had parked their Chopper next to my Harley. I rolled my eyes at the overcompensating ride. I never was much one for Choppers. I picked up my helmet and mounted my Harley.

"Wait." The woman said, grasping the sleeve of my leather jacket.

I looked up into her light green eyes. Hmm…I prefer blue…

She smiled with a disbelieving laugh and let go of my sleeve, "You saved my life. I dunno what I'm supposed to do, but I have to do something. I saw Spiderman, should I kiss you or something?"

I shook my head, "No, I'm currently fucking somebody." Then I slipped on my helmet. Stronghold's useful for something…

"Please. There's gotta be something I can do." She insisted.

I groaned as I buckled the strap under my chin. "Alright, alright, alright, fine! If I take your cigs, will you please forget about it and call it even?"

She paused and nodded wildly, "Yes! It's something at least!" She dug into her purse and brought out a pack of cigarettes. At the small look I'd had, she had at least six packs amongst the contents of her purse. She smiled, "Not even opened yet? You like the brand? They okay?"

I took the pack and tucked it into my jacket pocket, "They're fine. Now leave me alone, please." I brought my bike to life and walked it backwards. Then I gunned it out of the parking lot. I saw her waving behind me and calling, "Thanks again!"

That's what I got to look forward to? I reached down and touched the wound in my side. Could be worse I guess…