damien the irresistible

2.5 - DAMIEN THE IRRESISTIBLE

i cannot communicate how much of an uncooperative little bitch of a slut this chapter was. i can't! i was like 'you're gonna write a quickie sex scene, q, maybe 1500 words max' and then this? OVER 3K WORDS?!!! 

then the goddamn hurdles of the setting but i had to maintain the original intent of the sex scene AND describe it without overusing vocabulary but giving you enough imagery and substance that you not only see but feel too and my stupid brain, she was all like 'i see it... could maybe do it but like... i do Not wanna help you write it :/'

and that's why it took so long. nevertheless i do apologize! i really prefer sticking to the times i tell you and i will be better! 

that being said, this is messy! moreso than usual because im still fleshing out the plot and deciding on different literary techniques you know!! so details will change (mainly minor stuff, but in the grand scheme it's important!) im going in heavyyyyy on tightening the scenes (starting with this one! i swear to god i can do better!) 

me @ myself, knowing i could probably fuck off and shorten the scene: HEY buddy quit while you're ahead, you fucking idiot
also me @ myself, knowing i live dragging thangs out: hey buddy FUCK yourself

2.5 - DAMIEN THE IRRESISTIBLE

Incredulous that Damien Palmer had, apparently, 'staked a claim' on me, I sought him out to clear it the hell up. He hadn't ever been so bold, or careless—cocky, to be more accurate. Although there was something begrudgingly hot about it, there was no way I'd claim someone who could just leave like he did. (Not because I had any feelings for him romantically, I didn't, it was simply rude!)

I needed to make that clear to him.

So I lied to Dani, something about being tired from the drive—which was sorta true, but not the prevalent reason of my departure—and barged into the kitchen where he was. Shirtless, his well defined back was to me, the refrigerator door open, a draft of cold air rising goosebumps along my exposing attire.

The second I slid the kitchen door open and closed, he was already spinning to face me, shutting the refrigerator as I grabbed his wrist. Surprisingly, he allowed me to pull him into the hallway bridging the kitchen and living room, free from anyone seeing us.

Pressed against the wall, doing my best to be as far from him as possible, I disbelievingly relayed what I was told, "You - you threatened to beat Noah up if he tried anything with me?"

Adjacent to me, fresh from a shower by lingering smell of spring well soap, hair looking black in its dampness, dark sweatpants riding low on his hips, that prick had the nerve to smile, nonchalant with an underlying of confidence. "Not in so many words, but, basically, yeah." There was a gleam of pride about the action in his eyes. "Told you just like I asked, too. He's a good friend albeit, a little sleazy at times. Definitely not better than me, and definitely not good enough for you."

My jaw slackened, and it took several seconds for me to form a response. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

A similar emotion reflected in him, blinking rapidly, mouth parting, as he processed my genuine question. "What's - what's wrong with me?!" he repeated, stunned, almost spluttering. He took a dangerous step forward, eyes narrowing. "I know what you're doing, Audrey! Don't fuckin' pretend like we haven't did this dance before. It may have taken me awhile to catch on then, but not now."

I thrusted my hands out, maintaining some distance because I was definitely not trusting the tension between us. "Shut up! You don't know anything," I snapped, fighting against my stuttering heart, stubbornly holding onto my resolve. "You can't! You're a moron!"