xp_logs | Miles & Warren, Friday night

Another log inspired by the TMI Tuesday meme! Warren discovers Miles in a compromising position and offers him some useful but asked for advice.

There was no way Warren was going to give up his luxury privacy and live full time at the Mansion. Not only would that be horrible (permanent roommates? At his age?!), but he still did quite enjoy his own space and time. That being said, ‎he'd put far more mileage on his Jag than he thought prudent with this constant commuting.

Ah well. At least he got to explore different routes out of the city. One time, he found a random graveyard that he swore went missing the next time he tried to find it. Another time, he'd found a beautiful hitchhiker, and had a most excellent time in New Jersey (which he would never admit to, ever). This time though, he found Miles' car, tucked away neatly on a secluded driveway. Quiet. Lights out. Just there. In fact, if it wasn't for his excellent eyesight, he would have driven by, oblivious to the potential danger.

Pulling over, he turned off his lights and tried to ascertain what exactly was happening. It appeared there was slight movement, but where was it from? The trunk? Was Miles locked in his trunk RIGHT NOW??

As stealthily as possible, Warren creeped up to the car, his senses on high alert, imagining all the worst possibilities. Rio would blame her dead child on Warren, that was a fact, and hell hath no fury like a grieving Spanish mama.

Walking by as quietly as he could, Warren noted the back window was slightly opened. Peeking through, his eyes widened, and then settled into a smirk. Good job, Miles. Standing up, he cleared his throat.

"So I see at least two things wrong and one thing right. Good call on the window -- don't need the car to reek of sex. But really, Miles... at least have a pillow in the car for the lady because your sweater isn't cutting it for her head....and I won't comment on the third, because I don't need to be put on a list. Hi Becky."

Miles nearly slid off the seat when Warren announced his intrusion. It was almost impossible for him and Becky to find private time. He hadn't met her parents yet so her house was a no go (and, she insisted, her father would surely remove the door to her bedroom if they tried), and he certainly couldn't bring her back to Xavier's. Thankfully he had a car and a good knowledge of Salem Center and the area around the mansion so he was sure the backroads afforded them the security and seclusion they needed to explore and experiment with their teenage urges.

So here they were, Miles exploring underneath her skirt with his own pants and boxers around his ankles. It had been quite a successful expedition, judging by the sounds that were coming out of the car. All for naught. It took him a second to recognize what the interruption was and who was causing it, and he squealed in pain when he rubbed against the zipper trying to hastily stuff himself back into his pants and preserve some modicum of dignity.

"¡Ay, putamadre!" he exclaimed. "¡Qué diablos! ¿Qué haces aquí?"

Warren was oddly amused by the situation. He'd never needed to find a back road before -- that's what hotels were for. ‎ "Nada, solo quise ver el show," he responded, leaning away from the window. The mortified look on Becky's face made Warren feel a bit uncomfortable. This is why he never learned names...lessened the awkward factor. "Te espero a la casa. Tengamos que hablar."

"¿Por qué? Ugh, never mind." Cursing his misfortune under his breath, Miles turned to Becky, whose face was buried in her hands. Dammit. "I'll, uh, I'll take you home, cariña." She nodded and followed him to the front, where she buckled up and steadfastly refused to look at him the whole drive back to Salem Center. Not that he could blame her. Getting caught and scolded was so embarrassing. And even worse, they didn't even get to finish!

He sighed when he pulled up a couple houses down from hers, the agreement they'd made so they wouldn't have to deal with her father. They sat in silence for a minute before Miles finally braved to speak. "I'm really so . . ."

"No, it's okay," she interrupted, her eyes briefly meeting his before they fell back to her hands on her lap. "It's not your fault."

"Still . . ." His heart pounded audibly, likes his nerves were trying to abet its escape. He took a deep breath to try to calm it, and then hazarded to reach for her hand. She didn't flinch or move away, so he took that as permission to raise her hand to his lips. "You're okay, though, right? I mean, we're still on for Tuesday?"

That actually made her laugh, and she brought up his hand to her lips to reciprocate. "Ohmygod, who do you think I am? Like I'm going to let shame that could literally kill me break us up. Don't be stupid."

Miles nearly passed out in relief. Sinking back against his seat, he let out the breath he'd been holding. "I'll make it up to you, though, I promise."

"Yeah, you're damn right." Becky leaned over for a kiss and a grope for good measure before exiting the car. Which left Miles in a great mood for the drive home, which vanished as quickly as it started when he saw Warren waiting for him in front of his suite.

"Mierda."

Warren pretended to look hurt. "Hey now," he said, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on. "I take offense at that. I thought I handled myself like the mature adult I am, rather than you, acting like a horny rabbit in heat." He motioned to the door. "Now let me in before I start playing questionable youtube tutorials. You can find everything there."

"You could've just, you know, left us alone," Miles advised as he opened the door. He poked his head in before inviting Warren, to make sure Bobby was nowhere around. The roommates shared a lot, but not this much. "And you of all people don't get to lecture me about, you know, that stuff. You do it all the time. With different women!"

"Because no one taught me to respect women, which has bitten me in the ass more times than I care to admit," Warren said matter-of-factly before following Miles. The room was its usual chaos and Warren kicked off a pile of clothes from a chair before gingerly sitting down. "Now, what exactly were you planning on doing with her? Have you guys had sex yet?"‎

"No!" Miles nearly fell off the wall he'd climbed up (rather than throwing the room into further chaos by dropping more clothes from the couch onto the floor). "This was only the second time we . . . We were just fooling around. We don't have anywhere to go. And the Outlander's big enough."

Warren was impressed. "Second time, and you got under her skirt?". He nodded. "Good job, but remember: you're not me. Do you really think Becky wants her first time to be in the backseat of an SUV, wondering if at any moment, you'll be caught? And you know, a man can cum out of fear. And that's a mess you don't want to clean up with take out napkins."

How could a conversation about sex be so unsexy? Miles wondered. "We weren't going to go that far. I don't have any...you know. And she doesn't have the pill. It was just, you know, everything but that. Where else are we supposed to go?"

Warren raised a hand, concerned look on his face. "Wait a minute. You mean to tell me that you parked, knowing things could get hot and heavy and you have no protection for that? None?" He slumped heavily in the chair, brow furrowed in worry. "Where did I go wrong," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. This was a disaster. He was much too young to be a great-uncle.

He cleared his throat. "Do you want a baby, Miles? Because that's how you get a baby. Poor planning, rampant hormones and beautiful women."

"But we wouldn't have!" Miles protested. Hie eyes widened so far that his face was about fifty percent eye. Just that thought of Warren's scenario would have been enough to make him wet his pants. "We both know that! That's why, you know, we were doing not that."

"There's enough sperm in seminal fluid to impregnate a girl," Warren responded matter-of-factly. "Right. So, first things first, you need condoms. Just to be on the safe side. Sex sometimes happens. Sounds stupid, but it's true. You may think you're just going to cuddle naked and bam -- d in the v. And then you're stuck with someone for 18 years." He shuddered. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a few foil wrapped squares. With a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed them on Miles's bed. "There. Mazel tov. You're a man now. Keep that shit wrapped."‎

The color drained from Miles's face. There was that Catholic guilt, settling in now that the excitement and then fear had long left him. "Do you carry around magnums because you need them or just to impress women?" he tried to joke, but felt almost sick doing so.
‎
"There are lines, and there are lines," Warren said with a smirk. "But trust me -- the tabloids do tell the truth sometimes." And now that that was out of the way, he could get into the other issue. "Last thing: always have a blanket and pillow in the car. Wet naps and tissues too. Ladies appreciate that." A pause. "Oh, and Febreze. Got it? Don't play it off like you do this all the time. You're just prepared for an impromptu picnic, got it?"

"I'm lucky Becky stills wants to su . . . date me," Miles hastily corrected himself. "I don't think anything's gonna happen in the car again, though, so. Any more advice I'll never get to use?"

Warren glared. "Don't be a smartass. I have years of wisdom to impart on you. Now, since I cruelly cock blocked you, go take a shower. I'll take you out. I may not put out, but I can spend money like a pro."‎

"You owe something to Becky, too," Miles muttered. "She was so close."

The older man rolled her eyes. "Fine. Let's go buy a build-your-own-dildo kit, but i won't help you with it. If you can't follow those instructions, there's no hope for you."