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From Dreams to Reality	By : Pat4pat Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Het- Male/Female Views: 1566 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse or Dethklok. I do not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
This is the fourth time I've rewritten this chapter, so I hope now it's up to par! Sorry for the long space in-between updates. Don't own Dethklok/Metalocalypse. Enjoy and remember: You, the fans, are A.W.E.S.O.M.E. :)

The glass squeaked as the towel wiped across it, erasing the moisture from the heat of the shower. It was quickly discarded onto the floor, leaving its owner bare to the steam that still lingered within the hot air. Pressing both her hands onto the counter, Layla leaned forward towards the mirror. Two hazel eyes stared back at her. Her skin was flushed, whether from the heat of her shower or from the thoughts running through her mind she was not sure. What she was sure of was that whether she appeared the same on the outside, inside she was a changed woman. She was staring back into the eyes of a stranger. The woman reflected in the mirror was an awakened being, awakened to the thrills and joys of sexual pleasure. Her lips curved up into a small smile as she recalled the previous evening spent with Pickles. But he had merely shown her a small portion of what he was capable of awakening within her. And though he claimed what she had experienced last night was far from sex, Layla could only imagine the glorious things that were in store for her.

He had been so dominant yet so gentle with her. Her body quivered as she recalled the way his soft lips trailed down her body, leaving nothing untouched by the heat of his tongue. She closed her eyes, almost feeling the brush of his goatee against her inner thighs, his calloused fingertips spreading her wider, the wetness of his tongue…

Layla straightened herself, still meeting this new woman's gaze. The heat of the shower had since ceased, but her thoughts still kept a rosy hue about her. Amongst the birthday gifts she had received throughout the day, one gift piqued her interest the most. Though it was intended by Skwisgaar to be an embarrassing gag gift, the cogs in Layla's mind had already begun to turn. Once in the safety and privacy of her room, she leafed quickly through every single page, studying its contents. An idea began to form.

Leaving the bathroom, Layla walked over to her bed where the book still laid open on a bookmarked page. She glanced at the pictures once more, eyeing the stances and descriptions. Dressing quickly, she swallowed the lump that began to form in her throat. She was going to do this. She would do this. This awakening, this woman compelled her to follow through. And not because she felt she owed anyone anything, but because she felt the continuing need to further explore the capabilities of what this woman could do next. Any slight hesitation was now pushed aside as her new being led her forward. She closed the book on her bed and walked towards her door. Turning, she glanced back once more, fear and excitement coiling in her belly, and switched off the light. The red letters of the book bled into the darkness, glistening against passing shadows as its words glowed in the dark: The Art of Kama Sutra.

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Pickles stepped out of his shower, slipping slightly on the damp floor. Steadying himself, he grabbed his towel, wrapping it loosely around his waist. No reason to dry off when his plans involved getting so shit faced drunk that he wouldn't even recognize the difference between wet and dry anymore. It was a miracle he wasn't shit faced drunk already. He had enjoyed quite a few beers at Layla's birthday dinner. It had been hard, sitting across from Layla, trying to act casual as they stole quick glances with each other. But he was sure no one had noticed, especially as everyone was focused on Skwisgaar's haughty joke of a gift. Pickles wasn't sure whether to shake the Swede's hand or wrap his fingers around the blonde's skinny throat after the slight jaw dropping pause Layla displayed before the band. But he had to admit, she acted as best she could. He had wiggled his eyebrows at her in a silly gesture; however, she completely ignored his stare for the whole rest of dinner before excusing herself quickly. Did he do something wrong?

Walking towards his bed and sitting on the edge, he rummaged through his dresser, absentmindedly searching for what stash he had left. "Only weed." He sighed to himself. Maybe later I'll page through that book, preferably with Layla next to me in bed, preferably butt naked. Pickles laughed to himself as he began to roll up a fat one.

A small knock sounded at the door.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Toki!" Pickles started as he angrily threw his joint down on his dresser. He marched towards his door, throwing it open, "I swear to fucking God you disturb me one more time…"

His sentence trailed off as he stared down at Layla, her arm still raised to knock, a surprised expression splayed across her face.

"Layla! Dude, I'm sorry!" Pickles half laughed, "I thought you were Toki, again. You know, coming to annoy the shit outta me."

Layla lowered her arm and gave a small laugh. God, could Pickles never tire of that sweet sound.

Stepping back, Pickles held the door open for his welcomed guest, "Come on in." He gestured with a swoop of his hand, "You caught me at just the right time. Just got outta the shower, was about to light one up."

Pickles shut the door tight behind, putting the lock in place. He had been disturbed one too many times before. Hell if he was going to be disturbed yet again, especially when Layla was in his room this late in the evening.

After entering into Pickles’ room, Layla had turned to face him but quickly adverted her eyes as he was only clad in a towel. It barely clung to his lithe frame, hanging loosely on his hips.

Pickles, noticing her small gesture, sauntered closer to Layla, resting his hands on top of her shoulders. "Ah, come on now." He drawled out, "I think we're a little past being overly polite."

Turning her chin upwards to meet Pickles green eyes, Layla gave a soft smile. Pickles studied the deep hazel that swirled amidst her gaze, a soft blush crept along her cheeks. She was biting her bottom lip, her mind obviously contemplating something.

Before Pickles could say anything, Layla slowly began with a nervous laugh, "You're right. I guess I'm still just a little new to this."

"That's ok, babe. We can take this as slow or as fast as you wanna." Pickles would try his hardest to be the utmost respectful, but there would be no complaining on his part were Layla to want to speed things along.

Drawing her hands upwards so that they linked with Pickles', she pulled them down from her shoulders and tight in her grip, interlacing their fingers. Pickles could feel a slight quiver emanating from her hands.

"I want…" Layla slowly began, "I want to try…something…"

"Ok…" Pickles answered in a cautious, curious tone.

Layla looked back down at their hands interlocked but quickly brought her gaze back towards the drummer's curious face. You know why you came here. Be brave, you semi-know what you're doing…

"So, ah, what is it that you'd like to try?" Pickles’ curiosity was getting the better of him.

Layla clearly was acting a bit braver than usual, both confusing and exciting the drummer's mind with possible scenarios.

"Could you…sit down? On the bed?" Layla quietly asked. Don't lose your voice now. Stay strong.

"I could do that." Pickles answered with a devilish grin. With one hand still laced with Layla's, he led her to the edge of the bed where he sat on the edge.

"Would you like to join me?" his eyes were dark with mischief as he smirked knowingly up at Layla.

"No…" Layla trailed off.

Now Pickles was confused.

Layla half smiled at the look on Pickles’ face. He looked so tempting. He rested back on his hands, his wet dreads sending droplets of water down his chest and back. His legs were slightly parted, his towel dipping between his thighs. His body glistened in the dim light of his room, still damp from the earlier shower.

Pickles straightened slightly as Layla put her hands on his knees, lowering herself down to a kneeling position in front of him. Neither broke their gazes. He watched as Layla’s tongue slowly wetted her lips, giving her a slight pout. His heart hammered in his chest watching the innocent seduction before him.

"I want to kiss you…" she slowly began, "Like you kissed me…"

It took a moment, but her intentions soon registered across Pickles' face. This was certainly…unexpected. Seeing her kneeling so innocently before his spread legs, gazing up at him with those big eyes nearly sent the drummer reeling into a lust-induced coma. From the moment those sweet words left those sweet lips, his cock had been rapidly hardening, lifting his towel in the process.

"Ok." Pickles finally said, exasperated by his own body's lusty response. I need to keep my cool… "But I don't want you to feel like you have to." he began again. But please, please have to!

Layla gave a shaky laugh, "I want to. I've been reading…that book, and…I've wanted to kiss you like that all day."

She made it sound so innocent. Kissing.

Leaning down, Pickles took her face in his hands. One hand trailed back against her neck, gripping her long, dark hair tightly and pulling her head back to meet his face. Slowly, he placed a light kiss on her lips. Her breath hitched in her throat feeling his goatee rough against her skin.

"How do you want me?" his breath ghosted against her mouth.

"Like this." she whispered back into his mouth.

With a feeling of excitement, Pickles released her hair. Leaning back on his hands once more, he gave a crooked smirk, his green eyes twinkling with anticipation. Layla held his gaze, a fellow smirk upon her lips, as her hands reached towards his towel.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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From Dreams to Reality