this came out of thin air
three ways and a million ways
entourage slash
ari/eric, rated r
Ari. Gold. That's seven letters worth of Harvard educated fuck-you smothered in just the right amount of bull-shit maniacal grin magic to get you laid/married/hired/and fired six times over before the sun rises. You know it and you know it long before Vince does.
+++
"It's so great that's you're my bitch,"Ari says before Eric can get a word in edgewise, or even take a sip of his coffee.
"You make a man hate mornings."
"Really? I thought that was my wife's job."
Eric grins. It's 8:00am. Vince is still sleeping off last night's party, and there's business to be done. Ari is leaning up against Eric's Maserati even though they were supposed to meet up at his office in a half an hour.
"Are you stalking me?"
"It's a free Starbucks." Ari smirks. "Get in the fucking car."
+++
Here's a good way to piss Ari Gold off: call him Ariel. Do it loudly. Do it in a public restroom while his balls are practically buried in your ass. Say it while Lindsay Lohan is doing a line off the pearlescent sink counter, and Ari's gripping your waist so tightly he could tear one of your kidneys out at any moment. Call him Ariel so fucking loudly and with such abandon that he stops to slap a across over your face so hard that you start to wonder if you're going to look more like a battered prostitute than a hollywood manager by the time you've both come.
That's a good way to piss Ari Gold off.
+++
"Where's Mrs. Ari?"
"Vienna," Ari says, and downs a shot of vodka.
"What's in Vienna?"
"My children, my wife, opera, pastries, and good old fashioned anti-semitism." Ari looks tired.
Eric eats an oyster and tries not to think too hard about it as it slips down his throat saltily. "Fucking Europe," he tries hopefully, but not too hopefully, because this is Ari and Ari is not exactly a kitten and Ari is never a kid who needs an ego boost. In other words: Ari is not him.
"Fuck this fucking bar." Ari shouts, and slams back another shot.
Owen Wilson's broken nose walks by.
+++
Ari's house has been featured in "Better Homes and Garden" twice. You know this because you buy "Better Homes and Garden" on the sly and then throw it out before you get back to the house. Mrs. Ari knows how to decorate. More than likely, she knows how to hire a decorator. You didn't know how to match your shirt and shoes until you met Ari. And Vince never had a matching problem. He's been tall, black t-shirted, and clad in jeans since 1st grade.
Mrs. Ari must know how to give a blow-job, too; because Ari had to have learned somewhere.
Then you hear his voice in your head. Typical, like a 2am phone call. You naive fucker. He learned everywhere.
+++
"It's so great that you're my bitch," Ari say, and bends Eric over one of the thick thick granite countertops in his 40,000 dollar designer kitchen (Better Homes and Gardens, May 2001).
Eric's face presses up against the cold stone, his nipples harden through his shirt, Ari grinds against his ass and spews foul language at him while Eric's cock butts up against a pair of mahogany cabinets.
"Do you let Vince fuck you like this? Fuck you like a bitch?" Ari asks from somewhere above him.
"No, no, fucking Jesus mary mother of god christ no I don't god no..." Eric responds, and kind of like he expected, Ari laughs and pounds him harder.
"You're going to hell," he whispers before coming, and then answers his blackberry bare-assed on the table.
-end-
entourage slash
ari/eric, rated r
Ari. Gold. That's seven letters worth of Harvard educated fuck-you smothered in just the right amount of bull-shit maniacal grin magic to get you laid/married/hired/and fired six times over before the sun rises. You know it and you know it long before Vince does.
+++
"It's so great that's you're my bitch,"Ari says before Eric can get a word in edgewise, or even take a sip of his coffee.
"You make a man hate mornings."
"Really? I thought that was my wife's job."
Eric grins. It's 8:00am. Vince is still sleeping off last night's party, and there's business to be done. Ari is leaning up against Eric's Maserati even though they were supposed to meet up at his office in a half an hour.
"Are you stalking me?"
"It's a free Starbucks." Ari smirks. "Get in the fucking car."
+++
Here's a good way to piss Ari Gold off: call him Ariel. Do it loudly. Do it in a public restroom while his balls are practically buried in your ass. Say it while Lindsay Lohan is doing a line off the pearlescent sink counter, and Ari's gripping your waist so tightly he could tear one of your kidneys out at any moment. Call him Ariel so fucking loudly and with such abandon that he stops to slap a across over your face so hard that you start to wonder if you're going to look more like a battered prostitute than a hollywood manager by the time you've both come.
That's a good way to piss Ari Gold off.
+++
"Where's Mrs. Ari?"
"Vienna," Ari says, and downs a shot of vodka.
"What's in Vienna?"
"My children, my wife, opera, pastries, and good old fashioned anti-semitism." Ari looks tired.
Eric eats an oyster and tries not to think too hard about it as it slips down his throat saltily. "Fucking Europe," he tries hopefully, but not too hopefully, because this is Ari and Ari is not exactly a kitten and Ari is never a kid who needs an ego boost. In other words: Ari is not him.
"Fuck this fucking bar." Ari shouts, and slams back another shot.
Owen Wilson's broken nose walks by.
+++
Ari's house has been featured in "Better Homes and Garden" twice. You know this because you buy "Better Homes and Garden" on the sly and then throw it out before you get back to the house. Mrs. Ari knows how to decorate. More than likely, she knows how to hire a decorator. You didn't know how to match your shirt and shoes until you met Ari. And Vince never had a matching problem. He's been tall, black t-shirted, and clad in jeans since 1st grade.
Mrs. Ari must know how to give a blow-job, too; because Ari had to have learned somewhere.
Then you hear his voice in your head. Typical, like a 2am phone call. You naive fucker. He learned everywhere.
+++
"It's so great that you're my bitch," Ari say, and bends Eric over one of the thick thick granite countertops in his 40,000 dollar designer kitchen (Better Homes and Gardens, May 2001).
Eric's face presses up against the cold stone, his nipples harden through his shirt, Ari grinds against his ass and spews foul language at him while Eric's cock butts up against a pair of mahogany cabinets.
"Do you let Vince fuck you like this? Fuck you like a bitch?" Ari asks from somewhere above him.
"No, no, fucking Jesus mary mother of god christ no I don't god no..." Eric responds, and kind of like he expected, Ari laughs and pounds him harder.
"You're going to hell," he whispers before coming, and then answers his blackberry bare-assed on the table.
-end-