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and now the first of two incredibly different fics!
fumbling to make contact
the social network (mark/eduardo)
878 words. written for the tsn_kinkmeme for the prompt mark fingers eduardo while dustin and chris are in the next room. eduardo isn't very good at staying quiet. thus, porn. porn, porn, porn.
“Fuck.” Eduardo’s voice is too loud. The door’s pushed mostly closed but there are at least three people coding in the living room, and none of them are as checked out as Mark usually is. Mark stops moving, and Eduardo throws his head back, tugging his lower lip into his mouth with his teeth.
Eduardo’s naked, but Mark isn’t. He’s still wearing his boxers, kneeling between Eduardo’s spread thighs. He’s got a half-used tube of lube lying next to his hips, and two fingers pressed inside Eduardo’s body. They haven’t done this before, not this part. Mark wants to bite into the exposed column of Eduardo’s throat and leave bruises. Bruises that Eduardo won’t be able to cover up. He touches the inside of Eduardo’s left thigh with one hand, pushing his legs apart, just a little more.
“Mark,” Eduardo says, breathy. “Mark.”
“Quiet,” Mark says, and pushes his fingers in, crooking them until Eduardo moans, hips stuttering forward, and then back, and then forward again. Mark thinks, found it.
“Oh,” Eduardo says. “Oh, fuck.” Mark thrusts with his fingers, pushing against that spot again, and then again, and again, and Eduardo’s body shudders all over. He’s making wounded animal noises, choked off in the back of his throat. Mark wants to hear them all and he knows he shouldn’t hear any of them.
“Wardo,” he whispers. “You have to be quiet.”
But Eduardo just shoves his hips back onto Mark’s fingers and says, “More, Mark, fuck you.”
Mark thrusts with his fingers two more times, hard and solid. Eduardo’s head falls back on the pillow again, hair mussed and half sticking to his neck, his forehead. Mark pulls both fingers out. Eduardo whimpers. Mark fumbles for the lube, and spreads it over three fingers. He licks the inside of Eduardo’s thigh, bites into the skin just next to his knee, and pushes all three fingers in. Slowly, slowly. Eduardo is tight, all fluttering muscle and forced relaxation, but Mark can plainly see how hard he is, precome beading on the head of his cock.
“Ah!” The noise Eduardo makes is far too loud, almost a shout, and Mark leans forward to press his free hand over Eduardo’s mouth. He can feel Eduardo’s labored breath, the wet of his lips, the sharpness of his teeth. He keeps his hand there are he starts to move his fingers again, pulling them out, sliding them back in. Eduardo’s hole is slick enough, stretched enough for Mark’s fingers to move more freely, and on the next thrust, he aims for Eduardo’s prostate.
Eduardo’s hips thrust, searching for friction against his cock, but he only manages to push into Mark’s bare stomach, not enough to get off. There’s sweat shining on his hips and belly, the slice of his collarbone. His eyes are hooded when Mark looks up at him. Mark watches the way his eyelids flutter when Mark slides his fingers out, and then pushes them back in. He makes some muffled noise against Mark’s hand, maybe profanity. Maybe Mark’s name.
Mark speeds up, driving harder, faster, and Eduardo’s still making sounds against the palm of his hand. Mark leans in and licks at Eduardo’s cheek, just at the seam where Mark’s fingers meet flesh. He breathes against Eduardo’s jaw, and sets a bruisingly hard pace with his fingers. He wants to see Eduardo come without Mark jerking him off. He’s so hard in his boxers, and he won’t let himself come until after Eduardo does.
“You’re - still not quiet, Wardo,” Mark says, up close against Eduardo’s ear, and Eduardo’s hips push against his stomach, leaving a wet trail of precome on his skin. “Someone might hear. You must like it a lot.”
Mark doesn’t know why that does it, but Eduardo’s body tightens around his fingers, his hips losing their rhythm, and his head goes back, eyes squeezing shut. Mark’s hand slides away from Eduardo’s mouth, falling instead to his shoulder. He pushes his fingers in, crooks them against Eduardo’s prostate, and then Eduardo’s coming. Mark bites into the skin just below Eduardo’s ear, and Eduardo’s come splatters against his stomach, and his boxers, and Eduardo’s own thighs. Eduardo makes a strangled noise, like he’s trying to hold the sound in but can’t quite manage to.
Eduardo heaves in two huge breaths. Mark is so hard it’s physically painful. Eduardo looks up at him, debauched and mussed and sweaty. Mark’s fingers are still inside him, and Mark can’t help pressing them against his prostate one, two more times. Eduardo’s hips stutter weakly, and he groans.
“Mark,” he says, slightly hoarse, and Mark just shoves his free hand inside his boxers, wrapping it around his cock, and stroking. It’s his non-dominant hand, and slightly awkward, but he doesn’t want to pull his fingers out of Eduardo. Not yet.
It takes him five strokes, fast and punishingly hard, and then he’s coming all over his hand, the inside of his boxers. Eduardo is staring at him, biting into his lower lip.
“Fuck,” Eduardo says. Eduardo leans forward and kisses him, sloppy and wet and right on the mouth. “That was -” Eduardo murmurs against his lips.
“Too loud,” Mark interrupts. He pulls out, wrapping his wet fingers around Eduardo’s hip. Eduardo shudders.
fumbling to make contact
the social network (mark/eduardo)
878 words. written for the tsn_kinkmeme for the prompt mark fingers eduardo while dustin and chris are in the next room. eduardo isn't very good at staying quiet. thus, porn. porn, porn, porn.
“Fuck.” Eduardo’s voice is too loud. The door’s pushed mostly closed but there are at least three people coding in the living room, and none of them are as checked out as Mark usually is. Mark stops moving, and Eduardo throws his head back, tugging his lower lip into his mouth with his teeth.
Eduardo’s naked, but Mark isn’t. He’s still wearing his boxers, kneeling between Eduardo’s spread thighs. He’s got a half-used tube of lube lying next to his hips, and two fingers pressed inside Eduardo’s body. They haven’t done this before, not this part. Mark wants to bite into the exposed column of Eduardo’s throat and leave bruises. Bruises that Eduardo won’t be able to cover up. He touches the inside of Eduardo’s left thigh with one hand, pushing his legs apart, just a little more.
“Mark,” Eduardo says, breathy. “Mark.”
“Quiet,” Mark says, and pushes his fingers in, crooking them until Eduardo moans, hips stuttering forward, and then back, and then forward again. Mark thinks, found it.
“Oh,” Eduardo says. “Oh, fuck.” Mark thrusts with his fingers, pushing against that spot again, and then again, and again, and Eduardo’s body shudders all over. He’s making wounded animal noises, choked off in the back of his throat. Mark wants to hear them all and he knows he shouldn’t hear any of them.
“Wardo,” he whispers. “You have to be quiet.”
But Eduardo just shoves his hips back onto Mark’s fingers and says, “More, Mark, fuck you.”
Mark thrusts with his fingers two more times, hard and solid. Eduardo’s head falls back on the pillow again, hair mussed and half sticking to his neck, his forehead. Mark pulls both fingers out. Eduardo whimpers. Mark fumbles for the lube, and spreads it over three fingers. He licks the inside of Eduardo’s thigh, bites into the skin just next to his knee, and pushes all three fingers in. Slowly, slowly. Eduardo is tight, all fluttering muscle and forced relaxation, but Mark can plainly see how hard he is, precome beading on the head of his cock.
“Ah!” The noise Eduardo makes is far too loud, almost a shout, and Mark leans forward to press his free hand over Eduardo’s mouth. He can feel Eduardo’s labored breath, the wet of his lips, the sharpness of his teeth. He keeps his hand there are he starts to move his fingers again, pulling them out, sliding them back in. Eduardo’s hole is slick enough, stretched enough for Mark’s fingers to move more freely, and on the next thrust, he aims for Eduardo’s prostate.
Eduardo’s hips thrust, searching for friction against his cock, but he only manages to push into Mark’s bare stomach, not enough to get off. There’s sweat shining on his hips and belly, the slice of his collarbone. His eyes are hooded when Mark looks up at him. Mark watches the way his eyelids flutter when Mark slides his fingers out, and then pushes them back in. He makes some muffled noise against Mark’s hand, maybe profanity. Maybe Mark’s name.
Mark speeds up, driving harder, faster, and Eduardo’s still making sounds against the palm of his hand. Mark leans in and licks at Eduardo’s cheek, just at the seam where Mark’s fingers meet flesh. He breathes against Eduardo’s jaw, and sets a bruisingly hard pace with his fingers. He wants to see Eduardo come without Mark jerking him off. He’s so hard in his boxers, and he won’t let himself come until after Eduardo does.
“You’re - still not quiet, Wardo,” Mark says, up close against Eduardo’s ear, and Eduardo’s hips push against his stomach, leaving a wet trail of precome on his skin. “Someone might hear. You must like it a lot.”
Mark doesn’t know why that does it, but Eduardo’s body tightens around his fingers, his hips losing their rhythm, and his head goes back, eyes squeezing shut. Mark’s hand slides away from Eduardo’s mouth, falling instead to his shoulder. He pushes his fingers in, crooks them against Eduardo’s prostate, and then Eduardo’s coming. Mark bites into the skin just below Eduardo’s ear, and Eduardo’s come splatters against his stomach, and his boxers, and Eduardo’s own thighs. Eduardo makes a strangled noise, like he’s trying to hold the sound in but can’t quite manage to.
Eduardo heaves in two huge breaths. Mark is so hard it’s physically painful. Eduardo looks up at him, debauched and mussed and sweaty. Mark’s fingers are still inside him, and Mark can’t help pressing them against his prostate one, two more times. Eduardo’s hips stutter weakly, and he groans.
“Mark,” he says, slightly hoarse, and Mark just shoves his free hand inside his boxers, wrapping it around his cock, and stroking. It’s his non-dominant hand, and slightly awkward, but he doesn’t want to pull his fingers out of Eduardo. Not yet.
It takes him five strokes, fast and punishingly hard, and then he’s coming all over his hand, the inside of his boxers. Eduardo is staring at him, biting into his lower lip.
“Fuck,” Eduardo says. Eduardo leans forward and kisses him, sloppy and wet and right on the mouth. “That was -” Eduardo murmurs against his lips.
“Too loud,” Mark interrupts. He pulls out, wrapping his wet fingers around Eduardo’s hip. Eduardo shudders.