Movierentals - Tumblr Posts
“my answer is the same as it was five minutes ago.” casper gave an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “i don't want this publicized. it's not good for my image." the scandal would only give him trouble. that was the last thing he wanted. however, the sight of carey on his knees looking so pretty was difficult to resist. pushing off from where he perched on the edge of his desk, casper’s thumb brushed the kneeling one’s lower lip. “i’m not saying i’ll give it to you. but maybe you could persuade me to at least consider giving you a watered down version of it that won’t get me in too much trouble.”
open to: m. feat. CAREY BRENNER, cutthroat reporter !
"i'm down on my knees, in my designer slacks no less, begging for you to give me this scoop..." as a tabloid journalist, carey wasn't opposed to stooping as low as his stories did. with his eyelashes fluttering & his bottom lip pouted out, he kept his gaze aimed upwards. "just tell me what it'll take. i'll do anything."
casper sighed. he knew carey was right and he hated it. "yeah, and if i speak on it, my father's going to be pissed." to his father, the wealthiest man in the city, image was everything. just when he didn't think carey could look any more enticing on his knees, that pink tongue circled his thumb. fuck. if he wasn't hard already, he would be now. casper took hold of carey's hand, moving it that small distance. when his palm was curled around casper's half hard cock, he pushed his hips forward slightly, pressing into it. one eyebrow quirked at carey's words, amused. "we'll see. if you suck it well enough, maybe i'll be convinced." one hand curled in the hair at the nape of the other's neck, gripping firmly as his other reached for his belt. "now open that pretty mouth of yours."
"you realize that you'll look just as suspicious if i print that you gave me no comment, right? you'll look like you have something to hide." it wasn't rocket science for carey to realize that something fishy was going on here. if it wasn't him, some other journalist was going to scoop up the story, so he was willing to do whatever it took to ensure that didn't happen. as soon as he felt the thumb settle on his bottom lip, he was darting out his tongue to circle the tip. letting his hand rest across casper's leg, he let his fingertips drift up slowly. inching closer to the center, ghosting around the very form of his bulge. "just tell me what i need to do & i'll do it. i get my scoop, you get to protect your perfect image, and we both leave happy and satisfied. sounds nice, right?"
“I, personally, have no issues with you wearing a tank-top or whatever other tragic piece of fabric you find and pretend to call clothing-- you should know that by now-- I just don't--” as he looked up, Hammond fumbled his own sarcastic dismissal as his breath caught in his throat. They had been friends for a while now, as well as anyone could be friends with Hammond, but the billionaire blonde had never noticed how good Brett looked; how big. Surely that had to be new; he hadn't always looked like that, had he? It didn't help that, in the moment as he watched the other flex, all he could think about was Brett's arm around his throat; his friends bicep effectively choking him as he fu--
“Ahem,” Hammond coughed and cleared his throat, and his mind, as he finally managed to tear his eyes away from the other's arms-- and body in general-- to look him in the face; in his obnoxiously handsome face. Clearly it had been a while since Hammond had gotten laid. “What I was trying to say is that I-- I don't want you to get your feelings hurt when people don't give you the attention you're so desperately craving. You look good, but not that good.” He teased; he lied.
open to: m/f/nb. platonic, romantic, and smutty dynamics all welcome. feat. BRETT WILLIAMS, the biggest himbo on campus !
"it's summertime. do you really expect me not to have the gun show out twenty-four seven?" curling a bicep beside his head, brett took a moment to admire his own muscle — and who could blame him? this was his time of the year, no longer forced to constrain his body underneath the layers that the cold winter had called for. "get used to it, 'cause i'm about to be flexin' up & down greek row on a daily basis. free of charge, if i might add . . . no need to thank me."
“I am not bitter,” his tone certainly didn't support that argument, “and i'm not hiding my body, you just don't understand having style. this sweatshirt is Burberry, you probably can't even afford to look at their website.” Okay, so maybe he was a little bitter. Who could blame him though? Growing up his friends, or rather the children of his house staff and his parents employees, used to call him tinker bell because, like her, she needed applause to survive. Hammond thrived off of being the center of attention and yet no matter how nicely he dressed, or how much money he threw around, whenever he was around Brett he was always on the sideline; even if it wasn't a competition, Hammond was in second.
What made it more frustrating was, even now, he couldn't seem to dent Brett's ego; and it only made the other more attractive. “You wish you had me distracted. I was--” he was doing a horrible job of supporting himself as he faltered again. “uhm-- I was just trying to think of a way to put you down gently, that's all.” If he wasn't distracted then why was his mind starting to wander again?
Up until now, Hammond had never understood that old saying “be careful what you wish for”; mostly because he never had to wish or ask for anything. If he had been paying better attention, and not just staring, he might have had a chance to move. Unfortunately for Hammond he didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. Gasping as his face was smothered against his friends chest, he managed to twist himself around in the other's powerful grip so that his chin settled over the bend in the other's arm; that mesmerizing, bulging bicep of his now pressed snug against Hammond's throat as he was held in a tight headlock. At least Brett was standing over him; maybe he wouldn't notice the blush creeping up on Hammond's cheeks. “You-- you ass!” Hammond cried out, his voice almost cracking with a laugh, as his perfectly coiffed hair was ruined with a noogie, his hands lifting to pull and lightly slap at the other's arm in a feeble attempt to free himself. “I am not apologizing.” Now probably wasn't the best time for it, but there was definitely hints of a moan under his breath as he squirmed in his friends grip. “Brett, come on.”
"you know what i'm hearing from you — nothing but bitterness. it ain't my fault you hide that killer bod underneath those baggy sweatshirts." there was just no killing an ego like brett's. he had felt like hot shit every second of every day for as long as he could remember, his confidence so unrelenting that it bordered on dangerous. it didn't help that even the straightest of his frat brothers were constantly staring at him — and hammond was the worst offender of them all. it was borderline laughable that he seemed to be trying to humble the frat boy, but brett was all too willing to push back against his friend's little jabs.
"oh yeah, you don't think i look that good? is that why you can't seem to finish a sentence without getting distracted by my arms? this isn't the first time i've caught you staring, either." as much as he was teasing hammond, the blonde was still being lighthearted about it. diving towards the other, he hooked an arm around his neck and brought his head towards his chest. bicep wrapped tightly around him, he held his frat brother in a headlock, his other hand balling into a fist so that he could deal a noogie across the top of his head. "say you're sorry. in fact, say you're sorry and give my bicep a big, sloppy kiss or i'll keep you here like this all night long."
