Deny until you die: that's Ari Gold's motto. Or one of them, anyway. Others include: 'Fake it 'til you feel it', 'Fuck 'em', 'Money Money Money', and 'Cunt muscle'.
Only the last one currently doesn't apply.
"This is our little, huge, fucking, career-ending, mass-murder inducing, TMZ-worthy, fucking, fucking secret," Ari murmurs, as he slams the other man up against the frosted glass wall of his office. If the building wasn't deserted... If it wasn't a Sunday night... If it was so late it was actually morning...
Lloyd would be wetting his muff right now. For more than one reason.
There's a painting on Ari's desk. Literally on Ari's desk. Kara Keating smiles a winning, gleaming smile and holds up her Oscar for best actress
( ... )
"Oh god, yes!" She screams, writhing in the throes of ecstasy. "God! Oh, Ari, you're so big!"
She's on her back this time; thighs around his hips, nipples to the sky. Usually he has her from behind, on her hands and knees. That way he can feel the curve of her ass against him and reach forward and grab a handful of enticing, jiggling breast, but it's always nice to mix things up a little. Keeps things from getting stale. And the front of her head is as nice as the back. Available real estate too. He pulls out as she whimpers in protest, which he quiets first with with his index finger, and then...
Her mouth is warm and wet and willing, and she murmurs enthusiastically around him until he pulls out of there too.
"Oh, Ari," she pants.
"Ari..."
"Ari not in the face again!""...ARI? Are you listening to me
( ... )
Short but sweet...for a given value of sweetyougotgoldJuly 20 2007, 00:33:34 UTC
"You said you needed a fucking job."
"Not the kind of job I had in mind, Ari," Jordan growls, as Ari shrugs and grins like it was all an innocent mistake. She resists the urge to break his caps with her fist.
"A porno, Ari?" She spits.
Ari puts a hand on his well built chest all, what, who, me. But if there is one thing you can buy the man who has everything, it's self control.
"Well I can personally vouch for your skills in that department."
Re: From one pimp to anotheryougotgoldJuly 20 2007, 02:16:40 UTC
"You have a good look," Ari had slurred at the man in the dive bar. "Like...you know, but fucking edgier."
The weird thing is: he hasn't had that much to drink. They must mix them strong here. Normally he wouldn't complain (he's in search of a little stress relief after all. He's still nursing Mrs. Ari induced wounds brought on from blowing off their tickets for LuPone's Gypsy [the strippers are fake, after all, what did she expect?]), but he also likes to think he can hold his liquor, and tonight he's having technical difficulties.
He's lucky the The Pianist look-a-like is nice enough to give him a hand.
At least, that's what he thinks until he wakes up in a hotel room the next morning without his wallet. And his watch. And any of his clothes.
And one of his kidneys.
"I fucking hate New York!" He bellows, before dialing 911.
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Only the last one currently doesn't apply.
"This is our little, huge, fucking, career-ending, mass-murder inducing, TMZ-worthy, fucking, fucking secret," Ari murmurs, as he slams the other man up against the frosted glass wall of his office. If the building wasn't deserted... If it wasn't a Sunday night... If it was so late it was actually morning...
Lloyd would be wetting his muff right now. For more than one reason.
There's a painting on Ari's desk. Literally on Ari's desk. Kara Keating smiles a winning, gleaming smile and holds up her Oscar for best actress ( ... )
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You are so going to regret using that phrase. XD
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She's on her back this time; thighs around his hips, nipples to the sky. Usually he has her from behind, on her hands and knees. That way he can feel the curve of her ass against him and reach forward and grab a handful of enticing, jiggling breast, but it's always nice to mix things up a little. Keeps things from getting stale. And the front of her head is as nice as the back. Available real estate too. He pulls out as she whimpers in protest, which he quiets first with with his index finger, and then...
Her mouth is warm and wet and willing, and she murmurs enthusiastically around him until he pulls out of there too.
"Oh, Ari," she pants.
"Ari..."
"Ari not in the face again!""...ARI? Are you listening to me ( ... )
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"Not the kind of job I had in mind, Ari," Jordan growls, as Ari shrugs and grins like it was all an innocent mistake. She resists the urge to break his caps with her fist.
"A porno, Ari?" She spits.
Ari puts a hand on his well built chest all, what, who, me. But if there is one thing you can buy the man who has everything, it's self control.
"Well I can personally vouch for your skills in that department."
She knees him in the crotch.
She doesn't let him fuck her for a whole month.
He's sorry.
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You know you'd enjoy getting kneed
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The weird thing is: he hasn't had that much to drink. They must mix them strong here. Normally he wouldn't complain (he's in search of a little stress relief after all. He's still nursing Mrs. Ari induced wounds brought on from blowing off their tickets for LuPone's Gypsy [the strippers are fake, after all, what did she expect?]), but he also likes to think he can hold his liquor, and tonight he's having technical difficulties.
He's lucky the The Pianist look-a-like is nice enough to give him a hand.
At least, that's what he thinks until he wakes up in a hotel room the next morning without his wallet. And his watch. And any of his clothes.
And one of his kidneys.
"I fucking hate New York!" He bellows, before dialing 911.
His mouth still tastes like cock.
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What amazes me, is that my char is not even flinching. He'd so take a kidney if he could get away with it. :D
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