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[drewthomason-blog]

@kingsramsay

He knows what he’s doing is a mistake, him and Noah have never been anything but that. But he could have died at the gala, both of them could have and as much as Drew pretended like that night hadn't effected him it had. Not that he would ever let his facade slip, not to the men who had held him hostage; when he lifted his chin in defiance at their questions, spat blood every time they punched him for his arrogance and smirked through blood stained teeth at them. Or when the Diamonds when asked him if he was okay, told him that he didn't have to pretend for their sake, everybody was feeling the brunt of the hostage crisis. Drew merely shrugged the evening off with a casualness he had carried himself with all of his life, his fear and concerns being washed away, pulled adrift by the tide of his arrogance. Drew had replied to Noah's last message with a estimated time of arrival before ordering himself an Uber to his address, which he still remembered. His driver made good time in getting him across the city to Noah's apartment, the streets of New York weren't buzzing with life and activity at this time of night like they were in the daylight hours. It made Drew's job a lot easier, not that he didn't like the challenge the busy, crowded streets offered him. He wrapped his knuckles twice against Noah's door after his Uber had dropped him off, the voice inside of his head still telling him that this was a mistake. Noah was everything that Drew wasn't; safe and stable, like the foundations of a house. Drew was reckless, arrogant and was derelict like the walls of a home abandoned. They weren't what the great authors wrote about, two souls entwined.  Noah was a matchstick hovering at the end of Drew's landing strip, both humming with anticipation and ready to be set ablaze.

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[drewthomason-blog]

a savage a n t i n o u s

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text ↠ droah.

Noah: I do go jogging before sunrise but I leave the suit at home, I'm not a complete nutter.

Noah: Is that millenial for yes?

Drew: God, I forgot how British you are.

Drew: Well, it was until you asked that question, Grandpa.

Drew: Remind me to teach you about emojis once we've refreshed your memory on other things.

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text ↠ droah.

Noah: What have you got against being neatly dressed?

Noah: I think I'll pass, thanks.

Noah: I would stroke your ego but trauma's left me hazy.

Noah: You could come over and refresh my memory.

Drew: Calm down, Barney. Suits are for weddings, funerals and court. You probably go jogging before the sun's up in your finest Armani so I wouldn't expect you to understand.

Drew: Live a little.

Drew: 😈😏

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text ↠ droah.

Noah: That I can understand.

Noah: You know I love an excuse to wear a good suit.

Noah: You clean up pretty nicely yourself, I'm impressed you managed to muster up something that wasn't jeans and converse.

Drew: Waking up in the morning is an excuse for you.

Drew: Your wardrobe could use some more jeans and converse.

Drew: We both know I look good in anything I wear.. or don't wear.

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text ↠ droah.

Noah: Does that mean you've either read or watched that dreadful piece of fiction?

Noah: Hardly. I just thought it was polite to check in on you.

Drew: I watched for Jamie Dornan only.

Drew: How very British of you.

Drew: You looked good the other night, by the way. Still looking dapper always, I see.

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text ↠ droah.

Noah: My heart bleeds for you that a hostage situation didn't live up to your BDSM fantasies.

Noah: But I am glad that you're alright.

Drew: I was so close to having my Fifty Shades moment and then a guy who you could tell was ugly under a mask got up in my face.

Drew: You wasn't worried about me, was you?

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text ↠ droah.

Noah: Few bruises and aches, but nothing broken.

Noah: Where did they end up taking you?

Drew: As long as they didn't rough that pretty face up. Then we'd have a problem.

Drew: Basement. A little disappointing. It wasn't exactly the Red Room I was hoping for.

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THESILENTSTONE:

“Oh, it’s you.” He said, smiling faintly as he continued to try and breathe properly. God, it hurt so much to take in air through his nose. Looking to Drew’s face and noticing the discoloration as well as the split lip, Tucker tisked and gestured to his jaw. “My nose hurts like a son of a bitch but your face looks like someone whacked it.” He uttered, trying to stand up straighter as he looked to Drew. He was younger than Tucker, someone that he felt he should somewhat look after despite the other’s occupation. He felt responsible, not for the person in general, but their well being since he was, after all, the Advisor.

“You doing ok?” He asked, wanting to make sure that the thief was somewhat stable enough to work after what happened. They were all taken aback by the whole situation so he wasn’t surprised that some of the people weren’t really taking too kindly to their own emotions. Reaching up and placing a hand on Drew’s shoulder, Tucker looked into his eyes and raised a brow slightly. “You can tell me if you’re not or if you are. I know I’m absolutely furious about what happened.”

“Don’t sound too disappointed.” Drew said, making a noise somewhere between a scoff and a huff. “Are you waiting for somebody or do you always just lurk outside of drugstores?” Drew asked with an arched brow, smiling as he scanned the sidewalk for signs of anybody else lingering by or approaching Tucker that he might recognise. “That’s what you get for mouthing off to strange men in masks.” He joked lightly, knowing the extent of his injuries could have been worse. He could have had a broken nose like Tucker, or worse have been beaten so black and blue that he looked uglier than David. Drew almost shuddered, a shiver running up the back of his spine. 

“I’m not in a rush to do any selfie challenges on Instagram anytime soon but I’ll live.” He couldn’t say the same for the men who had taken him hostage however. They hadn’t just taken Drew hostage, or the Diamonds but if they were looking to expose the gang members of New York then he would guess there was several members of the Hearts amongst the hostages.They didn’t just have one gang to worry about, they had two. Drew had spent the days following the gala wondering who would find them first, the diamonds or the hearts? “I said I’ll live, relax Dr Phil. It’s a few bruises. Nothing a few pain killers can’t fix. Besides, I have that whole tough, sexy bad boy look going for me now. I’m like a gay Brad Pitt in Fight Club.”

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ACELAWRENCES:

“No, I’m here of my own fucking volition because the only thing that lifts my mood after being held hostage by a bunch of spineless faceless cocksuckers is a chit chat with local law enforcement.” Ace deadpanned, his words lacking in that signature hint of humour they tended to carry. He was clearly agitated, the night that had transpired weighing on him more heavier than he cared to admit to – not that that was the thief who stood before him’s fault, yet that didn’t spare him from Ace’s irritation by fault of proxy. 

He held out his three quarters empty box of Marlboro in a silent offer of a cigarette and a truce, saying without sounds and syllables that he wouldn’t lose his shit if Drew decided to engage with him further. 

Well, it looked like somebody was feeling crabby this afternoon.. Drew arched his brow pointedly, the brown and green colour of his eyes swirled together like moss creeping over rich soil. He wanted to tell Ace to chill, relax, take a break and have a fucking Kit-Kat. Instead he simply leaned against the brick wall that ran up the side of the steps, resting his elbows on the edge of the low, brick wall. “I see you’re feeling as chipper as always.” He understood Ace’s anger, despite his flippant attitude towards the whole situation. Ace had a wife, two unborn children and Jessica to worry about. Drew only had himself. He declined Ace’s offer of a cigarette with a dismissive wave of his hand, his preferred choice of drug being a little white line. “I’m good, thanks. I think you need one more than I do.” 

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he is lust. he is sex in the back seat of a car. he is hickies on the beach. he is groping in a movie theater. he is ass grabbing in an empty aisle. he is dirty whispers on the phone. he is pressed thighs and lip biting. he is moaned names. he is trembling and goosebumps. he is breathlessness after a touch. he is frustration and dark eyes. he is insanity and clawing nails. he is the pleas of more. he is the begs of not stopping. he is the fantasies that have your hand between your thighs, wishing it was his mouth instead. he is sex. he is lust. he is a drug. one you’ll take with a scream of pleasure and a whimper for another.

the dangers of dating a boy who knows exactly what he’s doing.  (via tonkinwrites)

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text ↠ droah.

Noah: Hello. I thought I would check in with you after the Gala.

Noah: Which ended up being absolutely mental.

Noah: Are you okay?

Drew: That's one way to describe it.

Drew: I'm fine, I only walked away with a few scratches. What about you, Popeye?

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VIILIFIED:

You’re going to find your job an awful lot harder when a broken hand.

The words were on the tip of his tongue. Had Drew caught him yesterday, he probably would have said it. But after finally getting a night’s rest, Elliott was at least in a mildly better mood. Though he refused to put up with the little shit’s shenanigans.

And Elliott pointedly ignored the flirtation. Disgusting unprofessionalism at its finest.

“Respect my office. You’re not the only thief in New York.”

He plucked the USB up and walked back to his desk, inserting it into his computer tower and barely looking at Drew as the filed began to upload onto his hard drive.

“I’m going to trust you got out of there with no complications.”

“No, but I am the best.” He quipped, his voice devoid of any modesty. “Besides, if you’d wanted one of the other thieves you would have called them instead of me.” Drew watched Elliot with curious hazel coloured eyes as he returned to his desk, plugging the device into his computer. There was a time when Drew would have been eager to receive praise for what he had accomplished, for what information he had found and how it would help the Diamonds. Over time that eagerness had vanished, a cocky arrogance now firm in its place. He didn’t need to be praised by his comrades, to be told how good of a job he had done or how impressed they were by what he’d been able to steal. He knew he was good, he didn’t need to seek out validation from them anymore.

“I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you if I hadn’t.” It was relatively easy, Drew thought, sneaking into the precinct and locating the office of the organised crime detectives who had interviewed everybody after the gala. All it took was a little bit of eavesdropping on his part and waiting for the coast to be clear before he could slip into the office, retrieve the files and disappear again as if he’d never been there.

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{ Text }

Sawyer: You and me both.

Sawyer: Throw in some Scar Jo too.

Sawyer: Only if you buy me a bottle after. Then and only then will you be allowed to drink my scotch.

Drew: How about I steal you a bottle?

Drew: Top shelf, of course.

Drew: None of that drug store bullshit.

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