Time Out - The Social Network - Eduardo/Mark
Title: Time Out
Pairing: Eduardo/Mark
Word Count: 640
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: BDSM overtones, aftercare.
A/N: Written for the subspace/headspace square of my kink bingo card. Established relationship.
Summary: Mark loves the way that Eduardo gets when he pushes him hard enough.
Eduardo is laid out flat on the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. Mark pulls the blanket over both of them, covering Eduardo only to his hips. His tanned back is stenciled with red welts, the product of the cane that is now propped over on the other side of the desk. The marks will fade to dark bruises eventually, but right now they are red and tender.
Eduardo gives a tired, content groan when Mark brushes his fingers over the wounds. He makes no attempt to move; he doesn't even twitch.
He's brilliant like this; sometimes, Mark thinks he would like to have Eduardo this way at all times. He would miss out on the bright smiles and caring fussing that Eduardo does when he is more coherent, but there's something that is just perfect about having him blissed-out and gone in his bed. Eduardo doesn't resist anything that Mark wants, as if he's forgotten how or as if he's never known.
He spider-walks his fingers along the neat curve of Eduardo's spine until he reaches the small of his back. Resting his palm against the dip before his ass, he stares down at Eduardo with evaluating eyes. They'd gone at it hard tonight, going further and deeper than before. He loves that Eduardo would let him do that - loves seeing how he can affect him, his ability to turn Eduardo into a quivering mess.
And when he presses hard enough, just the right way, he gets Eduardo like this: pliant and trusting and completely accepting. It's the endorphins. Logically, Mark knows and accepts that. Under similar circumstances with anyone else Eduardo would be likely to have an identical reaction.
Illogically, he likes to think that maybe it's something to do with him in particular. He likes to think that maybe without him Eduardo would never be able to feel relaxed.
Mark himself, he doesn't do relaxed. It's not that he's stressed all the time, exactly; it's just that he has far too much stuff to do to allow himself the time to unwind as thoroughly as Eduardo does. The look on Eduardo's face, blissful and free, is something so foreign to Mark that he doesn't even have a word for it.
He knows that he likes it.
He knows that he likes Eduardo feeling it.
That's enough.
"I should get you some water," he says. He can't tell if Eduardo hears him or not; the time that it takes him to resurface can vary.
He decides the water can wait, and sinks down low on the bed. His body lines Eduardo's, both of them pressed together. Nude, their bare skin sticks with slick sweat. Hardly matters. Mark has spent himself inside Eduardo's willing body, holding him down and fucking him rough and raw until they were both sore, his fingernails digging into the marks his canes had already caused. He can still see the indents.
"We'll sleep," he declares, speaking mostly to himself since he doubts Eduardo can listen to him right now. "Sleep, then shower, then eat, then code."
He'll code, anyway. Eduardo can probably sleep some more.
Or study. He does that a lot. Mark? Not so much.
Facebook is more important than studying. It's more important than anything.
Nearly anything, he corrects, as Eduardo shuffles to rest his head on Mark's shoulder. His arm curls around him; when Eduardo is like this, Mark gets to feel strong and protective. It's kind of a rare feeling for him. He strokes his fingers against Eduardo's skin, remembers all they've done together, and allows his mind to wander into code and computers while Eduardo slowly resurfaces.
Pairing: Eduardo/Mark
Word Count: 640
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: BDSM overtones, aftercare.
A/N: Written for the subspace/headspace square of my kink bingo card. Established relationship.
Summary: Mark loves the way that Eduardo gets when he pushes him hard enough.
Eduardo is laid out flat on the bed, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. Mark pulls the blanket over both of them, covering Eduardo only to his hips. His tanned back is stenciled with red welts, the product of the cane that is now propped over on the other side of the desk. The marks will fade to dark bruises eventually, but right now they are red and tender.
Eduardo gives a tired, content groan when Mark brushes his fingers over the wounds. He makes no attempt to move; he doesn't even twitch.
He's brilliant like this; sometimes, Mark thinks he would like to have Eduardo this way at all times. He would miss out on the bright smiles and caring fussing that Eduardo does when he is more coherent, but there's something that is just perfect about having him blissed-out and gone in his bed. Eduardo doesn't resist anything that Mark wants, as if he's forgotten how or as if he's never known.
He spider-walks his fingers along the neat curve of Eduardo's spine until he reaches the small of his back. Resting his palm against the dip before his ass, he stares down at Eduardo with evaluating eyes. They'd gone at it hard tonight, going further and deeper than before. He loves that Eduardo would let him do that - loves seeing how he can affect him, his ability to turn Eduardo into a quivering mess.
And when he presses hard enough, just the right way, he gets Eduardo like this: pliant and trusting and completely accepting. It's the endorphins. Logically, Mark knows and accepts that. Under similar circumstances with anyone else Eduardo would be likely to have an identical reaction.
Illogically, he likes to think that maybe it's something to do with him in particular. He likes to think that maybe without him Eduardo would never be able to feel relaxed.
Mark himself, he doesn't do relaxed. It's not that he's stressed all the time, exactly; it's just that he has far too much stuff to do to allow himself the time to unwind as thoroughly as Eduardo does. The look on Eduardo's face, blissful and free, is something so foreign to Mark that he doesn't even have a word for it.
He knows that he likes it.
He knows that he likes Eduardo feeling it.
That's enough.
"I should get you some water," he says. He can't tell if Eduardo hears him or not; the time that it takes him to resurface can vary.
He decides the water can wait, and sinks down low on the bed. His body lines Eduardo's, both of them pressed together. Nude, their bare skin sticks with slick sweat. Hardly matters. Mark has spent himself inside Eduardo's willing body, holding him down and fucking him rough and raw until they were both sore, his fingernails digging into the marks his canes had already caused. He can still see the indents.
"We'll sleep," he declares, speaking mostly to himself since he doubts Eduardo can listen to him right now. "Sleep, then shower, then eat, then code."
He'll code, anyway. Eduardo can probably sleep some more.
Or study. He does that a lot. Mark? Not so much.
Facebook is more important than studying. It's more important than anything.
Nearly anything, he corrects, as Eduardo shuffles to rest his head on Mark's shoulder. His arm curls around him; when Eduardo is like this, Mark gets to feel strong and protective. It's kind of a rare feeling for him. He strokes his fingers against Eduardo's skin, remembers all they've done together, and allows his mind to wander into code and computers while Eduardo slowly resurfaces.