Chapter Seventy Eight

...

Layla woke up in Warren's arms, sighing softly as she realised she'd have to leave his warm embrace to use the bathroom. Getting out of bed, Layla groaned when she felt a twinge of pain in her neck, probably from using Warren's bicep as a pillow. Tilting her neck from side to side and trying to ease the muscles, Layla headed to the bathroom.

"You 'kay, hippie?" Warren asked sleepily when she returned to bed, rubbing her neck.

"My neck hurts. I think I slept wrong," Layla admitted, frowning. "It's all right, I'll just use a vine."

Warren sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "You can't use your vines for every little thing, hippie. C'mere," he said, patting the edge of the bed.

Layla frowned at him, but sat down. Warren moved her slightly so she was sitting straight, her legs over the edge, then kneeled up behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, Warren used his thumbs to press against her neck gently, feeling for the knot of tension beneath her skin. Massaging slowly and gently, Warren added some more pressure to work the knot out.

Warren's hands were hot against her skin and Layla made a soft noise as he began to massage her, groaning and wincing as her neck ached.

"That okay?" Warren asked, his voice rough with sleep.

"Harder. Please," Layla said, her breath catching as he pressed directly on the knot.

"It'll stop hurting soon," Warren promised, pressing and working against her skin harder.

"Mmm."

"Is this okay?"

"Feels good," Layla murmured, her head tilting forward with another soft groan.

Warren smiled and continued to massage her neck with firm motions, then moved down to massage her shoulders too. Minutes or a whole hour could have passed and eventually, Layla was loose and pliant beneath his hands, her head lolled forward and body relaxed. "Better?" he asked, grinning.

"Definitely," Layla said. She stood up suddenly and turned to kiss him, pushing him back onto the bed, Warren adjusting his legs before he was folded in half.

"What're you doing?" he asked between kisses, breathless.

Layla bit at his lip before moving to mark the curve of his neck. "I want you."

"You already have me, hippie," Warren murmured, grabbing her hips as she gyrated and ground down against him.

"I know. I want more," she said against his skin.

"What?" he asked, desperately trying to keep track of the conversation as Layla kissed and sucked and moved against him.

"I want to have sex with you, Warren."

"Right now?" Warren asked incredulously.

Layla nodded and kissed him again, her hands moving along his biceps and across his pecs.

Before she could do anything else, Warren grabbed her hands and turned them over so he was straddling her, his weight holding her down and his hands circling her wrists. "What's going on, hippie? Why now?"

"Why not?"

Warren frowned at her response. "I said I'd wait, hippie, and I meant it. Are you thinking with your brain?" he asked, kissing her forehead before pressing a hand between her legs, his fingers hot against her clit. "Or with your pussy?"

"Fuck," Layla hissed, writhing underneath him.

"If you want me to get you off, we can do that. But you said six months, so I'm waiting six months. I don't want you to regret this," Warren murmured.

Layla shook her head. "I wouldn't regret anything," she said, though even to her own ears it sounded like a feeble protest.

Warren kissed her hot and hard. He moved his hands away from her body, Layla making a noise of protest as she reached up to him. Warren pulled away before she could lock her arms around his neck, stepping back and away from her and the bed entirely.

"Warren?" she asked breathlessly, sitting up and hoping he wasn't going to leave.

He looked at her for a moment, her face flushed and lips red and swollen, her chest heaving in her thin shirt. Warren saw the hesitation and worry in her expression, even without feeling it on his wrist. He leaned down to kiss her, reassuring her he wasn't going anywhere. His hands rested on her hips, his palms warm and his fingers curled against her skin.

"What're you doing?" Layla asked as he pulled away to kiss her neck.

She felt Warren smile against her skin and he continued to kiss his way down her body without replying. Layla could feel a sense of mischievousness from Warren as he lifted her shirt to press a hot kiss against her stomach.

He pulled away to look at her once more, his eyes dark with desire. "Still want me to get you off, hippie?" he asked, his voice rough.

Layla nodded, her heart beating a rapid pulse.

Warren moved back and dropped to his knees in front of her, carefully tugging her knickers down over her knees before pressing a kiss to her kneecap. "If you want me to stop, just tell me," Warren said.

Layla didn't even think she could speak right then. Her nerves made her heart pound in her chest, the noise filling her ears. Then Warren grabbed her hips and moved her closer to him gently, parting her thighs with his warm hands and a slight squeeze, and she felt her nerves lessen. They were still there, but at least she could breathe now.

Warren pressed several kisses to her thighs as he stroked her hips and trailed his palms down the sides of her thighs, hoping to ease her tension. He didn't want to pressure Layla into anything and if she wanted to stop, then he'd stop. The nerves he felt coming from the vine tattoo started to lessen the more he kissed and touched Layla, her desire slowly building and overtaking her nerves.

Spreading her legs wider, Warren pressed a hot kiss to her pussy, feeling her body tremble beneath his hands and mouth. After waiting a moment to determine if she was all right, Warren licked a rough line between her labia, parting her lips with his tongue. The heat and taste of her coated his tongue, Layla muffling a moan behind her forearm. Stroking her thighs again, Warren moved slightly so he could hold her open, his thumbs hot against her labia and the heat so close to her clit that Layla writhed, trying to get closer.

"Okay?" Warren asked, pressing a warm kiss to her thigh.

"Mmm. Don't stop," Layla murmured, reaching down to tug him back towards her by his hair.

The sharp tug had pain blossoming through him, but Warren didn't mind the sensation. He bit Layla's thigh none too gently, grinning against her skin when she moaned again, the noise not muffled this time. Swiping his thumb along her clit, Warren let his tongue follow the same path, Layla's legs pressing against his head to keep him close. He held her legs open again and pressed a burning hot kiss to her skin. Keeping his thumbs firm on her labia and tantalisingly close-yet-so-far from her clit, Warren licked and sucked at Layla's pussy, her wetness coating his mouth and chin in a matter of seconds. She tugged on his hair firmly, trying to bring him closer, desperate for his mouth, his hands, both, on her clit.

Warren moved back to look up at Layla, her hand curled tightly in his hair, and grinned when he saw the red flush bright on her torso. Her nipples were taut and dark, easily visible through her thin shirt, and if he wasn't being held down, Warren would have had his mouth on them in an instant. Pressing a wet kiss to her skin, Warren moved his thumb to circle and press against her clit, Layla's resounding hiss of 'fuck, yes' like music to his ears. He teased her for a long moment before slowly dragging his calloused thumb down between her labia and curving it inside of her, her pussy clenching around his thick digit.

"Fuck. Warren," Layla groaned, tugging at his hair again.

Warren let her tug him close to her, kissing her along the way and all the while slowly moving his thumb in and out of her pussy. He curved his thumb every now and then, just to feel her clench around him, and when he was close enough, Warren moved forward to clamp his mouth around her clit, sucking hard.

Layla's strangled cry, her thighs clamping around around his head, her hand tightening in his hair, her pussy clenching and dampening around his thumb, Warren loved every second of it. He hummed around her clit, moving to grind his tongue against the nub between his lips, and moved his hand so he had two fingers buried in her wet pussy. He pulled away slowly when Layla finally released his head, focusing on her labia instead, licking and sucking and biting. Warren used his free hand to rub her labia together, his fingers wet and sticky, and continued to curve and curl his fingers inside her pussy. Switching to his middle finger - calloused and just that bit longer - Warren pressed his hand hot and firm against Layla's pussy, holding and cupping her as he curved his finger to find the G-spot inside her, just behind her pubic bone. Grinning when he found it, Warren alternated between pressing against it and stroking with his fingertip.

"Fuck. Wait. Warren, wait," Layla said, sitting up and clutching at his shoulder.

Warren pulled his finger out of her pussy immediately, stepping back and looking down at her, her body and cheeks flushed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Layla promised with a smile. "I prefer clitoral stimulation. My g-spot takes too long and that's not what I want right now."

Warren licked his lips and nodded. "Another time, then?"

Layla nodded, taking his wrist and tugging him back towards her. "Kiss me?"

Warren kissed her hard and firm, his hand slipping between them to rub at her clit with wet fingers. Layla shuddered beneath him, her body arching to press up against him. Slowing his motions, Warren rolled Layla's clit between his finger and thumb, kissing her and swallowing her moans. He pulled away to kiss at her neck and shoulder, moving his body down slightly so he could finally take her nipple between his teeth, Warren's mouth dampening her shirt. Moving his thumb anti-clockwise now, Warren slipped a finger between Layla's labia to wet it and press against her pussy firmly. Layla's body tightened beneath him, her breath shuddering out of her as she clenched around him, struggling to get that last bit of relief against his fingers.

"Warren, please. I need..." she begged breathlessly, her words cutting off as she ground down against his hand desperately.

"I know, Layla," he murmured against her breast, her damp shirt sticking to her body. "Cum for me," Warren said.

He rubbed hard against her clit until it was almost painful, but the wave of desire, lust, love that came from the fire tattoo on her wrist dulled the pained sensation. The combination of emotions and Warren's scalding hot thumb on her clit dragged Layla over the edge, and she finally cried out her orgasm, her nails scoring long welts down Warren's back, his body shuddering at the sensation and feel of her orgasm through his vine brand.

Sweaty and breathless, her throat aching from screaming Warren's name, Layla flopped back on her mattress and breathed. Her legs were sticky, her hair was sticking to her forehead, and her shirt was clinging to her body in a way that was going to be uncomfortable sooner rather than later. Warren kissed her swollen lips, his body pressed against hers, and Layla felt his erection pressing against her hip.

"Want me to get you off now?" Layla asked, smiling.

"What were you thinking?" Warren asked, feeling the sense of mischievousness coming from his wrist.

Layla licked her lips, swollen and bruised, and moved her hips slowly so the pressure and friction increased against Warren's cock. "You fuck my thighs."

Warren groaned, burying his face against the crook of her shoulder. "I won't last long that way, hippie."

She smiled and carded her fingers through his hair. "I've already orgasmed, so I don't mind how long you last."

Warren nipped at her skin, pulling back to survey his handiwork, and then kissed her firmly, biting at her lips. "All right. Where's your lube? Neither of us want to get chafed," he muttered, heading to his bag to get a condom out.

Layla sat up and opened her bedside table's drawer to take out her lube. She watched Warren curiously as he opened the condom packet and rolled it over his hard cock with practiced ease. "How many times have you thought about me while masturbating?" Layla asked curiously.

"Too many to count, hippie."

"How long, then? The last six months?" she asked.

Warren snorted. "Try a year and a half."

"Really?" Layla asked brightly. "I like the idea of you thinking of me," she admitted with a smile, tugging him close to kiss him.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you, hippie. Especially after Homecoming," Warren said, kissing her as he moved to lie down beside her.

Layla looked at him curiously. "What about Homecoming? Was it because we almost died?"

He shook his head and kissed her again. "That fucking dress. More to the point, me fucking you while you were wearing that dress," Warren murmured, feeling a thrill of pleasure from the vine tattoo on his wrist.

Layla smiled against his mouth. "I think that can be arranged. Anything else you've been wanting to do with me?" she asked curiously, uncapping the lube and trying to hide her sudden nerves as her fingers trembled.

"Everything, hippie. Can I?" Warren asked, taking the lube from her.

Layla nodded, relaxing as he squeezed her thighs gently, kissed her mouth and shoulder. He touched her gently, not as something fragile, but something treasured and loved, and Layla relaxed under his ministrations. Warren squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his palm, letting it warm as he kissed Layla's nerves away. When the lube was warm enough, he parted her sticky thighs with his own thigh and spread the thick liquid against her soft skin. Warren grabbed his aching dick to add more lube, trying to control his breathing so he wouldn't cum the second he was between Layla's thighs.

"Ready?" Warren asked, positioning his dick between her thighs gently, biting his tongue to stop himself from moaning at the warmth and wetness he could already feel.

Layla nodded and kissed him, her fingers curling against his shoulders as she moved and squeezed her thighs around him.

The heat that enveloped him was searing, just as hot as his own hand, and pressing in on all sides. Warren muffled his groan against Layla's lips, his free hand tight against her hip. Fucking in between her thighs was amazing, her body soft and hot and all-encompassing. Thanks to a combination of her own wetness and the lube, Layla's thighs were slippery as fuck, and Warren felt like he had to hold onto her just so he wouldn't slide away. He tried to keep his motions controlled, but the heat of Layla around him and the feel of her thighs clenching around him made his movements erratic for the most part. Thrusting and slamming their hips together, Warren finally realised that his tease of a girlfriend was squeezing her thighs every time he tried to pull back, keeping his dick trapped between her thighs for that moment longer.

"Fuck, Layla. Let me... Fuck," Warren groaned, kissing her harshly, his fingers digging into her hip.

Layla kissed him back eagerly, her tongue slipping in and out of his mouth in sync with his cock between her thighs. Layla ran her hand down his spine to cup his ass and squeeze one cheek with firm fingernails. She squeezed her thighs around him just that little bit tighter, Warren's movements stilling as the head of his cock was caught between her legs.

Warren felt like his dick was caught in a vice and yet it was fucking amazing. He didn't know if he wanted to cum right then and there or try to fuck Layla's thighs even harder, faster, just to feel the increased friction between her tight muscles and his aching dick. Thrusting his hips took more effort and strength, and Warren held onto Layla even tighter as he forced his dick between her steel-like thighs.

Layla pulled away from Warren's mouth, kissing him once more before smiling. "I thought you wanted to get off?"

Warren stopped thrusting when he heard the challenge in her voice, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing, hippie?"

"Making it harder for you. You wouldn't enjoy it as much if it was easy," Layla said, kissing him again.

"Already hard enough," Warren muttered, his words muffled by her mouth.

Layla laughed and clenched her thighs in a rhythm around him, her eyes sparkling as she waited to see what he would do in response.

Warren licked his lips, then kissed Layla heatedly, his lips burning, his tongue scorching against hers, his hand searing as it moved from her hip to her breast. He squeezed her breast firmly, his fingers bruising and branding her as he rubbed the pad of his thumb against her nipple, Layla gasping into his mouth. Warren palmed her breast, flicking her nipple harshly a few times before he pulled away to take Layla's wrist, encircling her fire brand with his hand and letting everything he was feeling flowing into her. Lust, desire, frustration, need, want, love. Layla's feelings returned to his wrist, increasing his feelings two-fold, and Warren almost came right there and then. He held off, returning the increased feelings until slowly, Layla's thighs relaxed around his dick. Grinning, Warren grabbed her hip and fucked between her thighs, all the while their feelings continued in an ever-increasing loop, the emotion making his hips stutter as he felt their love combine and increase yet again.

Warren had lost count of how many times they'd gone around, but it was almost overwhelming, feeling his own desire through Layla and then her own lust as she scored her nails down his back, his tongue in her mouth and teeth on her lips, her thighs squeezing around him, his hand on her breast, the control and surrender passing back and forth between them. Warren could feel his orgasm approaching - or perhaps it was Layla's - and he released Layla's breast so he could grab her hip and thrust, her thighs squeezing him once more, but this time in an effort to get him off rather than deny him. Warren groaned against Layla's neck, sweat and salt on his lips, and he finally came between her thighs, his teeth biting against the curve of her skin.

Warren came back to himself slowly, realising that Layla was on her back and he was covering her, his body probably heavy against her slighter frame. He breathed heavily against her neck, trying to control himself, to get enough energy to move off her, but he couldn't quite do it yet.

"I'm all right, Warren," Layla murmured, feeling his worry.

She stroked Warren's back gently, feeling the welts she'd given him, the bumps of his spine and muscles, the warmth against her fingertips. Warren breathed and kissed her neck gently, his lips hot against the mark he'd left on her. Layla shivered and tilted her head to give him better access, Warren's lips curving into a smile against her skin.

"Love you, Layla," he murmured before pressing another brand-hot kiss to her skin.

Layla smiled and carded her fingers through his hair. "I know you do. I love you too."

Warren licked her skin, his hands moving to stroke her hips gently. "Let me up, I'll get a cloth for you."

Kissing him firmly before letting Warren go, Layla watched as he sat up, tugged the condom off and tied it, throwing it in the bin on his way to the bathroom. The room was warm, so Layla left the blanket and sheets at the end of the bed, watching the doorway for Warren's return. She smiled on seeing him walking back to her, naked and his cock heavy between his legs.

"What're you smiling at, hippie?" Warren asked, his hands gentle as he manoeuvred her and cleaned her sticky thighs.

"You. I want to make out and cuddle when you're back," Layla said, smiling up at him.

"Anything you want, hippie," Warren promised, kissing her lips before heading back to the bathroom to wash out the cloth and leave it to dry.

Returning to the bedroom, Warren climbed into the bed beside Layla, curling an arm around her as she snuggled in closer, kissing along his jawline. Sliding his hand down her body, Warren hiked her thigh up so she could wrap her leg around his waist, their bodies pressed together as they kissed and slowly fell back to sleep in each other's arms.

...

Magenta's eyes widened when she saw Layla and more specifically, the bruises on her neck. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Why?" Layla asked, her eyes narrowing when she saw the wide-eyed expression on Magenta's face.

"Your neck. It's like a giant bruise," Magenta said, unable to stop staring.

Layla deftly unbraided her hair and let it fall over her neck. "Better?"

"Well, yeah. But what happened? Did Warren hurt you? Do you need me to call the police?" Magenta asked in a whisper, glancing around the coffeeshop.

Layla shook her head. "Warren didn't hurt me. We had sex and he likes to bite."

Magenta turned a dark shade of red, almost purple, embarrassed that she hadn't thought of that explanation. Will had told her about the scratches on Warren's back. "Oh. Uh, does it hurt?"

"Not in a bad way," she replied with a smile. "Have you ordered?" Layla asked, taking control of the conversation.

"No. I was waiting for you to get here."

"All right, what do you want?" Layla asked, smiling again.

The question stopped Magenta short. No one had asked her what she'd wanted in a long time.

"Tea, coffee, water? Cake?" Layla prompted, seeing that Magenta was getting lost in her thoughts.

She didn't want the girl to think too much; that sort of independent thought wouldn't help her plans to destroy Magenta, after all.

"Oh, uh. Coffee and something chocolatey. I'll order," Magenta said, gathering her purse and phone.

"I've got it; you can look after my stuff, okay?" Layla said, setting her bag and phone down on the table before leaving, not letting Magenta answer.

Figuring that it was already better than a date with Will - Layla had turned up at least - Magenta ignored the sting at being told what to do and played on her phone while she waited for her friend to return.

While Layla was ordering their drinks and cakes, her phone chimed with an incoming message. Glancing up as pure habit, Magenta accidentally saw the message Layla had received from Warren: a string of fire emojis, love hearts of varying colours, with the rest of the message seemingly full of flowers. It was ridiculous and sweet, but Magenta felt her heart ache. Will had never sent her a message like that. Sometimes it took a full day before he even replied to her messages, and she was sure he'd never sent a text to her without wanting something.

"I ordered you a mocha with extra chocolate and a chilli-chocolate tart," Layla said as she sat down. "Are you all right, Magenta?" she asked, seeing the tears in her eyes.

Magenta coughed, sniffed, and quickly wiped at her eyes with a napkin. God, she was crying about text messages; how pathetic. "I'm fine. Just an allergic reaction. The air's full of pollen today," she lied quickly. "How's your summer been so far?"

Layla smiled. "Wonderful. Warren and I have been out on a few dates. He grew a field of daisies for me. Well, he planted the seeds a few months ago and made me grow them, but it was really romantic. You know what I mean."

Magenta smiled half-heartedly; she really didn't.

"I'm starting full-time at the Council this week, so that will take up a lot of my summer, and Warren's taking every shift he can at work so he can save up for a motorbike," Layla said with a smile. Their drinks and cake arrived, Layla thanking the waitress warmly.

"Thank you," Magenta said quickly before the waitress could leave, but it was obvious she was only copying Layla, so the waitress' returning smile wasn't as genuine.

"Anyway, how's your summer going? Are you already sick of Cerulean and Cyan taking up your parents' attention?" Layla asked with a laugh.

Magenta shrugged. "I've been spending a lot of time with Will. We're... having sex, too," she added, her cheeks red. "My dad's working over summer, so mum's stuck with looking after Cer since Cy's busy with his girlfriend and friends. I offered to look after Cer, but mum wants me to get as much experience as Will's sidekick as possible," she added with another shrug.

"Have you fought anyone yet?" Layla asked, her voice quiet as she glanced around them to make sure no one was listening.

Magenta shook her head. "Not yet. Will's really annoyed about it, but Josie's told him to be patient. She's happier about him fighting citizen thugs, I think; less chance of Will being hurt, y'know?"

Layla smiled and nodded. "You're calling her Josie already? Mrs. Stronghold must really like you," she added.

Magenta blushed. "Yeah, I guess? I mean, don't get me wrong, she's really nice. But... I kind of feel like she's waiting for Will to break up with me?" she admitted. It was a relief to get the words out, though Magenta's stomach churned at the thought.

Layla blinked in surprise, but before she could say or do anything, her phone chimed with a reminder about the missed text. Taking her phone, Layla smiled as she scrolled and read the full message, then turned her attention back to Magenta. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I just... Never mind," Magenta said, shaking her head and picking up her fork to start on her tart.

Layla frowned and reached across the table to squeeze Magenta's free hand. "Talk to me, Magenta. I'm sorry about the text. I'll put my phone away, okay?"

"It wasn't that. It's... it's fine, don't worry," Magenta said, taking a mouthful of the tart and pretending that the pollen was back in her tear-blurred eyes.

Layla sighed and took a small packet of tissues from her bag, offering it to Magenta. Hating herself all over again, Magenta took the offered tissue and wiped at her eyes.

"Is everything all right?" their waitress asked, Magenta dying of mortification.

"The chilli in the tart's a bit hot, she's fine," Layla replied.

Relief flooded Magenta and she watched the waitress' flat black shoes as she walked away. Taking a deep breath, Magenta looked up to Layla, who was watching her - concerned, but not pitying - and gave a quick smile. "I'm fine," she lied.

"All right. But if you ever want to talk, I'm here. You've got my number and I'll answer, no matter what," Layla promised, squeezing her hand once more.

The promise was what sealed it for Magenta, thinking of all the times she'd called Will since the summer break had begun, only for him to ignore her each and every time. "I think Will's going to break up with me."

Layla blinked in surprise. "Why would you think that?"

"He hasn't answered any of my calls, and only replies to my texts every other day. I'm being clingy and I just... I wouldn't want to date me," Magenta said, wincing.

"Oh, Magenta. That's ridiculous. Will loves you. He wouldn't have sex with you if he didn't love you, right?" Layla pointed out.

Magenta thought about it for a long moment. You could have sex without love, of course, but Will just wasn't that kind of guy. Was he?

"I've known Will since we were five, Magenta. He wouldn't have sex with you unless he loved you," Layla promised, squeezing her hand again. "We never had sex, after all, so he must really love you."

"You... you didn't?"

Layla shook her head. "No. I guess he just didn't love me enough," she said with a bittersweet smile.

Oddly enough, that made Magenta feel better and she looked down at her plate, not wanting Layla to see her smiling over her ex. Will really did love her.

Across the table, Layla barely refrained from rolling her eyes. She took a bite of her fruit flan, sipped at her tea, and prompted Magenta to continue their conversation.

...

"Why didn't anyone know about this anti-super group before?" Jetstream snapped, glaring at the table full of Super Bureau agents, the Commissioner of Police, and the Mayor. "And don't give me that bull about them being a 'secret' group, Agent B; everyone knows you listen to citizens' phone conversations!"

Agent B shifted on the seat, uncomfortable at being singled out. "They used code words, and the Super Bureau were unaware that they were doing anything other than ordering their weekly takeaway."

"That is not good enough! I've seen the police reports, I know what those... those citizens had to take us down! They could have killed us and you wouldn't have done a thing to stop them!" Jetstream snapped.

Agent F coughed slightly, thankfully redirecting Jetstream's attention away from Agent B.

"What?!"

"I have a proposition, unless you have an idea to volunteer yourself, Jetstream?" Agent F asked coolly.

By her red face, everyone at the table knew in an instant that she had nothing to offer. Agent F didn't smile while Jetstream flustered uselessly, simply interrupted her fish impression, and presented their proposition.

...

End of the seventy-eighth chapter.