#dyscn

@dyscn:

“You’re BOSSY tonight,” he responds, though there’s no chance in hiding the fact that wildly turns him. Dominant bottoms always provided a good time. Next, Dyson rips open his shirt then picks the man up by gripping his ass, HOOKS his legs around his waist and carries him to the bedroom as their tongues fight for dominance in each other’s mouths.

Clarence didn’t see himself as bossy. He just knew what he wanted! Was that really such a bad thing? Especially since Dyson himself didn’t seem to mind much. Two dominant personalities shouldn’t gone together as well as theirs did — it was like they defied the natural order of things together. 

“You better pay to replace this shirt, asshole,” Clarance purrs, hooking his legs around his lover’s waist as they carried themselves to the bed, mouths plastered against the other like they couldn’t care less about breathing. When Clarance lands with a thud on the mattress, he wastes no time removing the surviving vestiges of his expensive shirt, waiting for Dyson to do the rest. “Think you can get my pants off without ruining them, stud?”

ACCEPTED.  thank you!

apologies for the delay with responding to this. while we are aware of calls for no cops at pride irl as well as issues surrounding the american police force and their relationship with the public, we must admit that neither of us are americans and so know little nor did we know how to handle this at first. we have reached out to american friends to ask them how they feel about cops at pride but have had little success, for one reason or another. if any american rpers would like to help us understand, we would be grateful.

also, we must acknowledge that in our own countries (the uk), as well as other european countries, there is less tension. our police forces often join in in the festivities, including the wearing of rainbow flags in any fashion, and don’t appear to be met with resistance (as far as we are personally aware). 

“pool party means no phone, so turn it off now or i’ll throw it into the water.”

Grant glanced down at the hand atop his thigh, before breathing in sharply and lifted his gaze to meet Dyson’s. This was a very bad idea indeed, a man who belonged to a unique group of beings, and another man who, in the past, had hunted down their kind. Yet there they were. Two good men in extraordinary worlds brought together in the most unexpected way. 

The other man was not wrong. Grant had been fighting this for days now, fighting the obvious tension between them that he was struggling to resist now that they were so damn close... 

“I do...” The whispered words had barely left his mouth before he gave a physical confirmation alongside the verbal one, leaning in and pressing dried lips against Dyson’s.

It wasn't uncommon for the detective to find himself in the lower district. Some called it the home of the city's seedy underbelly- sex workers, drug dealers, petty criminals. A neighbourhood of real hard knocks. A real shitty dump, if you asked some. Others saw it as a place to make a living. He had decided to make an unprompted welfare check on one of his ex-informants when, upon leaving, he spotted a kid in a hooded jacket being followed by a shadowy figure down a side alley. The cop in him told him to check it out so he crossed the street and stealthily entered the alley. He sighed when he saw the kid on his knees on front of the other man, sucking him off hastily.  The guy called out angrily once he noticed he had been spotted but fled when Dyson flashed his badge. The kid tried to make a run for it too but tripped over a pallet and went head over into a like of garbage bags. "Come on, get up." He pulled him up by his arm and got him standing.

"Fuck." Murphy sighed, getting his feet under himself and rubbing the back of his hand under his nose and over his mouth as he pulled it back again, "Think I can persuade you to not bring me in? No money actually changed hands." He worked his tongue around his mouth and spat on the ground near them, "Which means I just wasted some of my best work on him for nothing. I needed that fifty bucks for groceries."

The kid was no amateur since he was right about one thing. No money was changed hands so he couldn't legally get him on prostitution. The worst he could do for the kid for would be public lewdness. A simple Class B misdemeanor. And really, more hassle than anything considering the paperwork. He rubbed his beard and sighed. He was even too tired to give a shit. "Go on," he said to him, letting go of his arm so he could walk off. Just as the kid turned away to wall off, he spotted a wallet on the ground and picked it up. It belonged to the horny gentleman who Dyson had scared off. "Wait," he said. "Here." He took the cash from inside, about ninety bucks, and handed it to the kid before slipping the wallet into his jacket pocket (he'd give it to one of the clerk's at the station so the gentleman could collect it--along with a warning, of course, and perhaps a pamphlet on safe sex). "For your groceries."