[fanfiction] until you no longer recognize your flaws
365 Gay Sharks
Day 108, Word Count: 1000
Theme: April; Double Rainbow
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: The Social Network; Eduardo/Mark
Rating: R
Pre-Notes: I am physically incapable of seeing a writing on the body prompt without writing it. Also I don't actually recommend drawing all over someone in Sharpie, especially if it's hot, because Sharpie has alcohol-based ink and it'll bleed like a mofo. Also it SMEARS LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW and it will get over EVERYTHING. Uh. This has been a public service announcement, I guess. Not that. I knew any of that from personal experience.
Disclaimer: Mark, get out.
Summary: All of his worst fears are being written out on his skin, being put on display for the world world to see, and Eduardo can't-Mark presses his lips to the ink, and Eduardo shivers.
until you no longer recognize your flaws
It's innocuous at first. Mark's twirling the Sharpie between his fingers, and then he uncaps it and then he's scrawling some kind of code on the inside of Eduardo's wrist in small, precise handwriting. It always startles Eduardo how neat Mark can make his handwriting when he chooses, startles him to see post-it notes in his econ book that say "I wish I was your derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves." or "You defragment my life." or "Our love is like dividing by zero, you cannot define it." or whatever other stupid thing. Eduardo's not always sure that Mark is being serious with on the post it notes, but now Mark is making the code spiral up his arms and that's when Eduardo notices there's words mixed in with the code.
worthlessfaggotslutdisappointmenttrashweakhomofailurewhore
Eduardo tenses, and Mark either doesn't notice or ignore it. He just keeps writing, intricate designs of words and code wrapping around Eduardo's arm, the marker dragging over his skin and reduced to the hiss of coolness against his now flushed skin. Mark's at Eduardo's elbow, and he shifts so he's at a better angle for what he's doing, lifting Eduardo's arm and holding it in place while he slowly covers Eduardo's skin in slander. All of his worst fears are being written out on his skin, being put on display for the world world to see, and Eduardo can't-Mark presses his lips to the ink at the delicate inner crease of Eduardo's elbow, and Eduardo shivers.
When Mark pulls away, there's phantom traces of the ink on his lips and Eduardo can't help it. He tugs Mark up from where he's still concentrating on the designs he's penning. Mark makes a noise of protest but doesn't fight Eduardo. He goes and Eduardo presses their lips together, tangling his fingers in Mark's hair. Mark is mostly in his lap after shifting, and Mark rocks against Eduardo.
They do this sometimes, rock against each other on the couch until they're both sweaty, flustered, and flushed, but that's not really what Eduardo wants. He pulls away from Mark.
"Bed, Mark. Bed."
Mark makes a annoyed noise, but untangles himself from Eduardo and wraps his fingers around Eduardo's wrist, all but dragging him into his bedroom. There's a hasty discarding of clothes, and then Eduardo's pushing Mark back onto the bed, and Mark is running his fingers up along the designs on Eduardo's arm and why? Why is it that just that can have Eduardo falling apart and crashing apart and scrambling for the lube, the lube, and Mark impatient as always and then hips arching up and ink-stained fingers clutched in bedsheets.
It's Wardo Wardo, insistent, and then yes yes heat tight you you faster Mark ah ah shhhhhhhhhh.
Chris and Dustin are out, though, gone to party or drink or try to pick up and fail or whatever. It's not like Mark is loud, though, and sometimes Eduardo wonders if maybe Mark only makes the sounds for Eduardo's benefits anyway and-
ink transferred from arm to fingers to sheets, from arm to sheets, from arm to fingers to face, from arm to fingers to shoulder, from boy to boy, from place to place without pause to consider what it's stained
-everything smears together in a slight haze as Eduardo gently floats drown from where he was. Mark pulls him down crushing their lips together like an oxygen transfer. Everything is covered in smears of black ink.
"Mark," Eduardo breathes, "Mark."
"You ruined my plan," Mark says, without any real malice, "I was going to tell you how you shouldn't worry about what other people say about you."
And it's like yes, yes I know, but Eduardo never manages to get past that to where he actually believes it sometimes because he a failure at all things and he's worthless and he needs to try hard and he'll never be good enough and and and and-Mark kisses him again, like kissing him will manage to infuse common sense into Eduardo somehow maybe and there's a smudge of black on Mark's face. That's not that weird, though, considering that the bed they're currently laying in is in a state of complete disarray.
The sheets are ruined, there is ink everywhere. Knowing Mark, though, he won't bother to wash the sheets unless Eduardo makes him which, very yes, otherwise the sheets will become sentient like that one time Mark had worn all of his clothes for two months without doing laundry and ugh. Sometimes Eduardo didn't understand how Mark could stand to be so dirty.
They should probably shower but when Eduardo brings it up, Mark gives Eduardo this look like if you make me move I will end you and Eduardo figures okay. Okay, they can just stay like that for a couple more minutes or an hour or forever and maybe some change. They're dirty and gross and the sheets are stained but whatever. Stains are okay.
Not all stains need to wash away.
Mark gropes for the sharpie, and Eduardo hadn't even noticed he still had it, uncapping it and taking Eduardo's arm and writing in perfect block lettering over the dark smears, the only remains of what he originally wrote. He's hunched over it and Eduardo can't see what it is and when Mark pulls away, Eduardo has to stare for a second and try to decipher the letters from the smudges behind them.
It says: mine.
Maybe that should bother Eduardo more, that Mark is so fucking possessive, but it doesn't because it's Mark and Eduardo doesn't know how Mark would express what he is and how he is if not in that way. Mark doesn't mean it in a bad way, Eduardo knows, so Eduardo isn't bothered by it. Instead he takes the sharpie from Mark and circles fingers around his wrist and pulls it toward him, scrawling out in cursive on pale skin.
stay mine i & i will stay yours
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D
Day 108, Word Count: 1000
Theme: April; Double Rainbow
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: The Social Network; Eduardo/Mark
Rating: R
Pre-Notes: I am physically incapable of seeing a writing on the body prompt without writing it. Also I don't actually recommend drawing all over someone in Sharpie, especially if it's hot, because Sharpie has alcohol-based ink and it'll bleed like a mofo. Also it SMEARS LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW and it will get over EVERYTHING. Uh. This has been a public service announcement, I guess. Not that. I knew any of that from personal experience.
Disclaimer: Mark, get out.
Summary: All of his worst fears are being written out on his skin, being put on display for the world world to see, and Eduardo can't-Mark presses his lips to the ink, and Eduardo shivers.
until you no longer recognize your flaws
It's innocuous at first. Mark's twirling the Sharpie between his fingers, and then he uncaps it and then he's scrawling some kind of code on the inside of Eduardo's wrist in small, precise handwriting. It always startles Eduardo how neat Mark can make his handwriting when he chooses, startles him to see post-it notes in his econ book that say "I wish I was your derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves." or "You defragment my life." or "Our love is like dividing by zero, you cannot define it." or whatever other stupid thing. Eduardo's not always sure that Mark is being serious with on the post it notes, but now Mark is making the code spiral up his arms and that's when Eduardo notices there's words mixed in with the code.
worthlessfaggotslutdisappointmenttrashweakhomofailurewhore
Eduardo tenses, and Mark either doesn't notice or ignore it. He just keeps writing, intricate designs of words and code wrapping around Eduardo's arm, the marker dragging over his skin and reduced to the hiss of coolness against his now flushed skin. Mark's at Eduardo's elbow, and he shifts so he's at a better angle for what he's doing, lifting Eduardo's arm and holding it in place while he slowly covers Eduardo's skin in slander. All of his worst fears are being written out on his skin, being put on display for the world world to see, and Eduardo can't-Mark presses his lips to the ink at the delicate inner crease of Eduardo's elbow, and Eduardo shivers.
When Mark pulls away, there's phantom traces of the ink on his lips and Eduardo can't help it. He tugs Mark up from where he's still concentrating on the designs he's penning. Mark makes a noise of protest but doesn't fight Eduardo. He goes and Eduardo presses their lips together, tangling his fingers in Mark's hair. Mark is mostly in his lap after shifting, and Mark rocks against Eduardo.
They do this sometimes, rock against each other on the couch until they're both sweaty, flustered, and flushed, but that's not really what Eduardo wants. He pulls away from Mark.
"Bed, Mark. Bed."
Mark makes a annoyed noise, but untangles himself from Eduardo and wraps his fingers around Eduardo's wrist, all but dragging him into his bedroom. There's a hasty discarding of clothes, and then Eduardo's pushing Mark back onto the bed, and Mark is running his fingers up along the designs on Eduardo's arm and why? Why is it that just that can have Eduardo falling apart and crashing apart and scrambling for the lube, the lube, and Mark impatient as always and then hips arching up and ink-stained fingers clutched in bedsheets.
It's Wardo Wardo, insistent, and then yes yes heat tight you you faster Mark ah ah shhhhhhhhhh.
Chris and Dustin are out, though, gone to party or drink or try to pick up and fail or whatever. It's not like Mark is loud, though, and sometimes Eduardo wonders if maybe Mark only makes the sounds for Eduardo's benefits anyway and-
ink transferred from arm to fingers to sheets, from arm to sheets, from arm to fingers to face, from arm to fingers to shoulder, from boy to boy, from place to place without pause to consider what it's stained
-everything smears together in a slight haze as Eduardo gently floats drown from where he was. Mark pulls him down crushing their lips together like an oxygen transfer. Everything is covered in smears of black ink.
"Mark," Eduardo breathes, "Mark."
"You ruined my plan," Mark says, without any real malice, "I was going to tell you how you shouldn't worry about what other people say about you."
And it's like yes, yes I know, but Eduardo never manages to get past that to where he actually believes it sometimes because he a failure at all things and he's worthless and he needs to try hard and he'll never be good enough and and and and-Mark kisses him again, like kissing him will manage to infuse common sense into Eduardo somehow maybe and there's a smudge of black on Mark's face. That's not that weird, though, considering that the bed they're currently laying in is in a state of complete disarray.
The sheets are ruined, there is ink everywhere. Knowing Mark, though, he won't bother to wash the sheets unless Eduardo makes him which, very yes, otherwise the sheets will become sentient like that one time Mark had worn all of his clothes for two months without doing laundry and ugh. Sometimes Eduardo didn't understand how Mark could stand to be so dirty.
They should probably shower but when Eduardo brings it up, Mark gives Eduardo this look like if you make me move I will end you and Eduardo figures okay. Okay, they can just stay like that for a couple more minutes or an hour or forever and maybe some change. They're dirty and gross and the sheets are stained but whatever. Stains are okay.
Not all stains need to wash away.
Mark gropes for the sharpie, and Eduardo hadn't even noticed he still had it, uncapping it and taking Eduardo's arm and writing in perfect block lettering over the dark smears, the only remains of what he originally wrote. He's hunched over it and Eduardo can't see what it is and when Mark pulls away, Eduardo has to stare for a second and try to decipher the letters from the smudges behind them.
It says: mine.
Maybe that should bother Eduardo more, that Mark is so fucking possessive, but it doesn't because it's Mark and Eduardo doesn't know how Mark would express what he is and how he is if not in that way. Mark doesn't mean it in a bad way, Eduardo knows, so Eduardo isn't bothered by it. Instead he takes the sharpie from Mark and circles fingers around his wrist and pulls it toward him, scrawling out in cursive on pale skin.
stay mine i & i will stay yours
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D