#delilahcomplex

[rockerb0y]

     THE COSTAL chill of manhattan beach was a sought-after respite from central los angeles' dry heat, and simultaneously an excuse to elude a congregation of superficial socialites on site for a pretentious awards ceremony. his nescience of what particular eminence was being honoured hadn't been elucidated by further investigation; the pomp and circumstance rarely epitomized material proficiencies or anything of substance.

     inked hand steered the porsche singlehandedly onto the californian interstate, chrome arm resting stationary upon thigh until the cigarette betwixt lips occasioned its deft touch. congestion had thinned and the engine purred with renewed velocity, overtaking its vehicular contenders and allaying vexation from the earlier gridlock. proximal progression towards their destination was intended to be celebrated with a drag yet as burnished digits twitched alive from inactivity, ruefully was his mouth rendered vacant by her abrupt act of thievery.

@delilahcomplex: steals the cigarette from between his teeth. yoink!

     crimson-hued lenses mostly screened intimations of demurral save for a furrowed brow and his head's languid turn towards the transgressor, reproof expressed but unvoiced. metallic digits' purpose aptly adapted and instead strayed to the left-side armrest, discreetly pushing the passenger's power window switch as a burst of acceleration fluidly bypassed a sluggish driver ahead. neither warning nor conspicuous reaction presaged the penalty for the petty crime, and she couldn't have evaded its wrath even if either had.

     donna's window was rolled down in its entirety, held open long enough to invite the blustery wind from the highway inside and style her with a more literal blowout; the opening lasted no more than a few moments but as the window smoothly returned to a close, a sideways glance directed towards his passenger and a smirk was quick to amend his former frown. the retribution's aftermath was nearly as gratifying as the pilfered cigarette itself.

❝  looked like you could use some air. ❞

[confessthysiins]

Paul Laurenzi

[dubbedover]

@delilahcomplex sent: beckon, sender beckons receiver closer with a finger. ( for whoever feels right 🤍

PROMPTS. always accepting

The bar isn't all that crowded, but Dregs feels it could do with a few less people. It's always like this in cities, even on a Monday night. There's a beautiful woman at the bar, too beautiful, so beautiful she looks unreal. Were he a superstitious man, he might think she wasn't human.

On the third or so round of looking over to stare at her, he finds she is now looking at him, and she doesn't turn away when he catches her eye. Instead, she gestures for him to come closer. Despite being well aware that there is no one behind him, he finds himself checking, anyway, before grabbing his glass and taking the stool next to hers.

"You a whore?" His tone is flat, devoid of any friendliness or accusation.

[grote5querie]

 ♱   |||  ⸺ a starter for @delilahcomplex featuring : barrel roberts. »

he’s  a  little  more  drunk  than  he  meant  to  be.     head  swimming  with  whiskey  and  beer,     the  music  in  his  ears  feels  like  heaven  ;   loud,   numbing,   electric.     it  tingles  all  the  way  down  his  spine  and  makes  it  easy  to  forget  why  he  even  came  here  in  the  first  place.     it’s  hard  to  hold  on  to  your  demons  when  you’ve  run  this  far  from  them.     harder  still  when  you  drown  them  in  booze  and  anything  else  you  can  get  your  hands  on.     that’s  the  hope,     anyway.    barrel's  hope.    he  tastes  like  sweat  and  smoke  when  he  licks  his  lips,     leans  heavy  against  an  empty  wall.    his  hair  clings  to  his  skin,    damp  brown  curls  stuck  to  his  temples  and  cheekbones,     and  for  a  second     —     just  a  second     —    he  almost  feels  good.    almost.     and  then  he  sees  her.     his  eyes  find  her  like  she  called  them  there,     like  she  willed  him  to  look.    an  angel  standing  in  the  middle  of  a  crowd  full  of  devils,     and  the  cigarette  nearly  drops  from  his  mouth.    jesus.     a  sight  for  sore  eyes  doesn’t  even  begin  to  cover  it.     he’s  moving  before  his  brain  can  catch  up,     pushing  through  the  crowd,   all  elbows,     heat,     and  broad  shoulders     —     until  he’s  standing  in  front  of  her  with  nothing  planned,     nothing  prepared.     just  her,    and  the  roar  in  his  ears,     and  the  buzzing  thrum  under  his  skin.        “hi,”         he  says,     rough  around  the  edges,    voice  rasped  and  too  honest.    he  gestures  vaguely,    stupidly,     at  the  cup  in  her  hand   or  maybe  he  just  imagines  doing  it.        “drink?    d’you—”        he  huffs  out  a  quiet  laugh  at  himself.    fuck.     “can  i  get  you  a  drink?”