alder smoke blues .

[dasia mae knight]

It was a cliche, but they were two sides of the same coin. Where Desmond shut people out by physically and emotionally distancing himself from them, secluding himself in his apartment and not returning calls, Dasia invested herself in the company of others so thoroughly that it could only be superficial. Fleeting from friendship to friendship, dipping in and out of parties and coffee dates and club nights, she was so omnipresent that no one felt a need to chase her for contact, and yet so barely present when she was there that no one could even begin to scratch the surface. She reduced friendships to multiple likes on Instagram, sex to a profession. Never fully present, never fully absent, she had limited herself to cameo appearances. It gave her a lot of peace.   For one, it stopped people hounding her down. Much as she hounded Desmond down. He couldn't go a day without her attempting contact. Ignoring emails would lead to texts, ignoring texts would lead to calls, ignoring calls would lead to house calls. She'd been tempted to book flights to Bali, just to rock up and ask him if he could tell the difference between red and purple Skittles if he ate them with his eyes shut. She was surprised he didn't hate her. Taking the stairs two at a time, she stands above him, blocking his way. With her hands of his shoulders, Loubs hanging awkwardly from her fingers, she leans down to kiss him again. "You're so slow. You've probably wasted years of your life just slowly walking from one place to another."   Her face lights up as candy is passed to her. He's the gift that just keeps giving. Then he speaks, and even as her knees go weak (she suddenly understands the sensation that phrase refers to) she's raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Do you have $500 cash on you, then? Mates' rates." A sly grin creeps across her face, her joke laced with challenge. If there was an obvious stumbling block, her job would be it. Still, she doesn't actually want to put him off, so she flounces into the apartment, chucking her shoes by the door as she goes. She flops down onto the couch, one leather-clad leg lazily hanging off its side.      "We can have sex the day you compose a poem declaring just how much you want to, and read it to me." Notes:  don't u jinx it. EDIT: YOU TOTALLY DIDN'T JINX IT AT ALL O M G Listening: GUESS.

[desmond hudson]

<sub>-----HE WAS in awe of Dasia completely, but not for what others saw in her. He didn't see the barbie, in fact half the time when he looked at people he didn't see them, he was able to look past weight, crooked teeth, boob jobs. Things that come with judgement, it's easy to pass hatred on someone if you only look at them for what they are. In Dasia he saw her self-respect, her strength, her courage, her curiousity, and her sincerity. This is what he saw, and this is what he fell for.

-----AND THEN there's that part of her that's like a child. There's more than one window to this, and he's seen both tonight. Her fear, her impatience; they are one. And then there's now, the curious Dasia, constantly smiling Dasia, immature Dasia... it was becoming his favorite. There she goes, the child in Dasia whizzing right past him - the clear smoker, huffing at even the thought of matching her face. He glints his teeth at her comment, leaning forward to peck his lips softly with his. You don't rush life, you know, he says in a semi-serious tone, shrugging her shoulders.

-----DESMOND jiggles the keys into the lock, fighting for a second with the door before it swings open. Fuck... spent my last bit of cash on two packs of Sour Patch Kids, he groans, closing the door behind them, and watching as Dasia plops herself on his couch. Eyes narrow at her request, and he keeps his eye contact as he shrugs off his jacket, and kicks off his shoes. He leans over her, closing her between his arms, and brushing his lips from her neck to her lips, pressing firmly into her plump lips. Inspire me, he breaks away, cracking a smile, and falling back into the couch alongside her.

-----MUSIC some stupid biking show on netflix.
-----NOTES FOUR PAGES. otp</sub>

[dasia mae knight]

"I guess that'll do," she says, heaving an exaggerated sigh. It was strange how obvious it suddenly seemed that this had been what she wanted all along. Her frustration, her hounding, her insistence on interfering in all areas of his life... she sided with him always, even when she knew he was in the wrong. Had another of her male friends done to a girl what Desmond had done to Pearl, they'd be dead to her. But she forgave him. She forgave him, and worse, slightly hated Pearl for ever having him at all. Refusing to dwell on it, she brought herself back into the moment as she watched him shrug his jacket off, slightly wishing that the t-shirt would follow.    Delicately pulling the fresh bag of Sour Patch Kids open, she fishes out a couple of the sugary sweets, dropping them into her mouth as she waits for him to inevitably follow her. Unless, of course, being at home reminded him of how much he preferred his own company... nope, there he was. Smirking as she watched his approach, she slowly chewed the candy, savoring the sour sweetness once more. She dusted the sugar from her fingertips just in time for him to close the gap between them. A hand immediately finds his arm, shamelessly admiring the curve of his muscles, taut with the effort of supporting himself. The so soft they're barely there kisses against her neck make her bite her lip, releasing it only to kiss him. His words are enough to make her rip his clothes off there and then, but she's a professional, and does little but raise that ever-arched brow.    "Is that a challenge?" she asks, her smirk resurfacing. "Because a girl can only do so much..." trailing off, she leans into him, pressing her whole body against his. When their lips connect she presses her hips up against him all the more, deepening the kiss, her tongue finding his and her hand in his hair, tugging ever so slightly. She pulls away, though there's barely an inch between them when she goes in for another quick peck, already missing the contact. She traces her ring finger gently up and down his arm, indulging herself that bit more. When she speaks it's a husky whisper, usually reserved for the most high paying clients. "And to think, I thought you might be gay." Notes:  i cannot write. but ilthem too too much. Listening: justin timberlake. starting to hate myself.

[desmond hudson]

<sub>-----HE DRAWS inspiration from Dasia, not only that, but motivation. It has been some time since he's felt either, even in the eternal summer of Bali he was dry for energy. He'd sit, and these things would pour from his mind onto paper, but they seemed to be filling some sort of hole he felt was absent. And of course Pearl, as lovely as she was, she couldn't understand him never mind fill the emptiness. That wasn't her fault, she wasn't to blame for his coldness, it's just hard to make something that's wrong, right. He didn't know if Dasia was right, but he felt as though the next morning he'd wake up happier, and he'd want to pull the blinds open. That was worth it.

-----HE HATES the taste of gummies, the way they stick to his teeth, threatening to pull out a filling. But he loves the taste on her lips, finding it difficult to tear from, even to mutter two words. When she speaks a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, he grabs her waist, it being so tiny his hands almost meet. Desmond pulls her closer into him, as if it were even possible. They fold across her back as she kisses him, breaking through the barrier of his lips, he finds the warmth of her tongue against his. She pulls away and he's disheartened, leaning his head into the crook of her neck and laughing. Here I was, about to tip you.

-----THE WAY her fingers softly move about his arm, raises feathery hairs and drives him to insanity. He's finding it difficult to keep his own hands off her, running his hands from her torso to her hips, and back under her shirt. His lips make contact with hers, his fingers fiddle with the clasp of her bra, popping it open with little error. Awh, shit, what happened there? he pulls from her briefly, letting fake astonishment take over his expression. Arms race slowly back to her waist, forcing her body closer to his, as his lips meet passionately with hers. His thumbs dig past the waist of the leather, pulling slightly, while holding her curves in his hands.

-----MUSIC nina simoneee
-----NOTES not thread porn yet. dw dw proboards.</sub>

[dasia mae knight]

The spontaneity of the moment was new to her. For all her appearances of being carefree and prone to acting on whims, Dasia was incredibly process driven. She did things properly. It took her hours of anticipation to force herself to attend events she'd agreed to long ago, and there was no chance of her creating plans on the fly. In work, she'd corroborate with other girls about certain clients, seeing if anyone already knew what they liked and disliked. For repeat customers, she made sure she had the whole session plotted out in minute detail... it was less meeting someone and giving them what they want, it was more anticipating what they wanted and delivering it with military precision.    But this wasn't something she had thought to prep for. The fact that she'd just had a shower and thrown some clothes on to come over suddenly alarmed her - if things were to progress, surely she'd need another coat of make up, to tousle her hair? And god, she couldn't even remember what underwear she was wearing. She had always made a point of wearing nice underwear, but if she'd have known, she'd have cracked out the good stuff. Lost in his kiss, she tried to stifle her concerns and in that moment it's easy to. With his arms around her she feels reassuringly small, and his responsiveness to her deepening the kiss makes her blood run hot, her heart thumping against her chest. She manages to pull herself away, the strength of her own will impressing her. "I'll invoice you," she grins, and his comment has lifted her spirits ever higher. For him to acknowledge her profession and still be in this position.... well, it meant a lot.     Locked into a kiss again, her nerves are pushed to one side by her desperation to get closer to him. "It's a mystery," she says, wide eyed with faux wonder. But it's a reminder that she's out of her depth here. Sitting up, she pushes him flat and climbs on top of him, sitting up and straddling him. "I'm really sorry Des, but this is necessary..." she says, leaning over to pick up her bag from the coffee table. She's moving quickly, adept fingers rummaging through phones and loose gum and rogue receipts until she fishes out a compact and lipgloss. With the precision of a professional, she's whipped a flash of pink gloss across her lips and powdered her cheeks, chucking the cosmetics back onto the table. "Sorry," she repeats, trademark coy smile on her face. Inwardly willing her bra choice to be a good one, she lifts her sweater up over her head. Thank fuck-- Agent Provocateur. "Your turn." She tugs at his t-shirt, pulling him up so she can kiss him again. Notes:  "THINK OF THE CHILDREN" - Proboards. Listening: mirah.

[desmond hudson]

<sub>-----MAGNETISM feeds through the air, there's a kick back of adrenaline running through his veins as he connects with her. There's little thought of consequence for their actions, what they'll be tomorrow, or what this will mean three months down the line factors little into the equation now that he's so indulged in the moment. He's not alike any man in New York City, not like his close friends who seemingly just fall into women. He finds chemistry an extraordinary thing to come across, and clicking with one's soul does it farther for him than Kate Upton's double Ds, or whatever they're on about now. Last time he was in this position was probably in Bali, long after Pearl, and long before now.

-----HE GRINS at her as she pushes his chest down, he feels his head resting on the arm of the green upholstered couch. His hands are fixed around her lower body, and he pulls her weight forward slightly, becoming eager as she muddles through her purse. What she grabs from her purse both surprises him and annoys him. He watches as she paints her lips with a glaze of sheer pink, and wonders what has caused it. Insecurity or form of habit? He knows better that to ask, or he's more afraid to, ask her lecturing him on the love of make-up with no doubt spoil the moment for the both of them.

-----SUDDENLY he's lost the thought, eyes getting caught up by her again. He watches as she loses her sweater, her tan skin exposing itself until the weakly-lighten room. . Fuck, you are just.. he fails to finish his sentence, pulling himself up, and tossing his own shirt to the floor, his own torso pale despite a year in the sun. He hooks his arm around the crane of her neck, pulling her to his mouth for a kiss. Her lips feel silky, and he decides he doesn't really mind it much, despite the difference in texture. Desmond's arm stretches across her back end, lifting her from his lap and tossing her gently down on the couch. A faint smirk appears on his features as he presses his lips to hers, clashing his tongue in her mouth, his fingers pulling the lace of her bra and adding it to the pile on the floor. His bear-like hands explore her exposed torso softly, but aggressively, as he squeezes her plush flesh in his palm, fighting her lips hungrily.

-----MUSIC the white stripes.
-----NOTES sorry not sorry proboards</sub>

[dasia mae knight]

Everything Dasia was so accomplished at feigning was for once coming to her naturally, and she'd forgotten how intoxicating it could be. His hands are greedily exploring her clothed curves, and the more he touches her the more she aches for him to. She's losing herself again as they kiss, tongues meeting with an urgency that betrayed his eagerness too. She pulls the sweater up and over her head, running her hand through her hair and flicking it to one side, a sheet of blonde curtaining them from the rest of the room as she leaned in for yet another kiss. It was addictive, and if she didn't know better she'd put that down to the lingering taste of nicotine on his lips.     He speaks and she smiles again, though this smile is different. Different from the childish grin she'd had plastered across her face outside, and different to the sultry smirk she'd worn since walking through the door. It was fainter, but somehow more sincere... the non-comment sank in quickly, and for a split second her libido is quelled by an overwhelming rush of affection. As soon as white cotton gives way to muscled chest, however, she's feeling a little less wholesome again.   Her hands on his neck, she kisses him back with vigour, getting a little impatient though things couldn't be moving much more quickly. With her back on the couch and his hands greedily exploring her skin, she runs a hand down his back, using her legs to hold him against her. The more he kisses her the less she can take it, and she pulls away mid-kiss, staring him straight in those puppy dog eyes.      "Bedroom, now." Notes:  I promise I won't make you do a morning after thread. Promise. Listening: back to iggyyyy.