November 15th, 2010
|12:11 pm - mark/eduardo drabbles|
they hosted a prompt drop over at mark_eduardo over the weekend. You can find the whole deal here.
I wrote these.
prompt: Mark/Eduardo, sexting. Because Mark is not nearly as awkward when they're not actually face-to-face. by lovethisgeek
That's a really nice suit.
Eduardo looks down at his phone, then down at Mark, who is sitting two rows ahead and to his left in the lecture hall, pen restlessly tapping in his hand. Eduardo furrows his brow in confusion - when the hell has Mark ever cared about clothes, and also, he's not actually looking at Eduardo - responds (Thanks, I think?), and goes back to paying attention to the lecture/trying not to fall asleep.
Thirty seconds later, his phone buzzes again. Looks really expensive.
Okay, this is getting weird. Uh. I guess? Since when do you care about my suits, and also, you haven't looked at me yet, so how do you know?
He watches Mark this time. Watches his phone vibrate, watches him pick it up and tap out a response, and watches him press send.
I looked. You didn't notice. Anyway, I don't care about the suit, I care about what's under it.
Eduardo's eyebrows shoot up. This is getting interesting. Just then, his phone buzzes again.
More specifically, I am interested in messing up your nice, expensive suit in an effort to get at what's under it.
Oh. Oh my.
The phone buzzes again.
More specifically, I am interested in pushing you into a wall, grinding against those tastefully pleated pants, and pulling them off once they are sufficiently wrinkled.
Eduardo swallows hard. This is getting out of hand.
His phone buzzes again.
More specifically, I am interested in getting those now-wrinkled, otherwise fine wool slacks down around your knees and getting your cock down my throat.
Eduardo shifts uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of his cock. He glares at the back of Mark's head. This lecture is now a total wash.
His phone buzzes again.
More specifically, I am interested in getting on my knees with your cock down my throat and my fingers up your ass as soon as possible. There's a bathroom on the fourth floor off the philosophy wing that sees almost zero traffic. Meet me five minutes after class.
Eduardo's hand is shaking, and he slips as he tries to replace his phone on top of his notebook. It crashes to the ground. He curses and bends over to get it, and the tiny fucking flip-up writing desk tilts and topples his notebook next to the phone, where it knocks what's left of his coffee directly onto his handmade leather shoe.
Eduardo curses silently, drops his head onto his knee, and breathes out. He imagines his hands clenched in Mark's hair, holding the back of Mark's head in place as he fucks Mark's face. Oh yeah. He knows exactly what's going to happen fifteen minutes from now.
prompt: Mark/Eduardo: Portuguese. Sometimes Eduardo says things to Mark in Portuguese and then refuses to translate them. by marycontraire
Sometimes Mark forgets that Eduardo wasn't born in America and that actually, English is his third language. (He had a French nanny for awhile.) He forgets that Eduardo is entirely capable of alienating Mark totally whenever he chooses, that he can cut Mark out and leave him deep in confusion and without recourse to resolve it. (There isn't exactly a surfeit of Brazilians at Harvard, and the few times Mark tried to babelfish Wardo's utterances, he learned that spelling in Brazilian Portuguese was so difficult for a lifelong English speaker as to be laughable, and gave up.) Mark thinks it is especially cruel that Wardo so frequently does this during sex.
Eduardo's knees are up over Mark's shoulders and his face has that expression it sometimes gets during sex, like worlds are being born before his eyes, and as Mark pushes in yet again he curses, arches, and hisses something untelligible and chewy. (Portuguese always sounds chewy to Mark, like the words are taking their time rolling around in the speaker's mouth, flipping gracefully around the tongue, before emerging half-formed.) Mark is ridiculous enough to be irritated by this, even with his cock buried in Wardo's ass, and he expresses his frustration through an extra-forceful thrust. It takes him just a little bit farther than Wardo usually likes him to go at this stage, he knows it, and so he's surprised to see Eduardo's eyes get impossibly wider in the good way as his hand tightens around Mark's upper arm.
It doesn't take long after that for either of them. Mark finishes Wardo off as he comes - Wardo moans something else he can't understand - and then he collapses across Eduardo's chest, mouth twisted in annoyance.
Eduardo looks down, a bemused grin on his face, and he flicks Mark in the forehead. "Why the face?" he smirks. "Do you need round two already? You looked like you were pretty satisfied with round one."
Mark looks up, not moving his head from where it rests on his folded hands, and says, "You know, it's really not fair to make me guess. Sex is an area where expecting your partner to read minds can be very dangerous, and as you may have noticed, I'm not terribly perceptive at the best of times."
Eduardo's brow furrows in confusion. "What are you - ? ... Oh." A bright blush rises in his cheeks as he realizes what Mark is talking about, and he mutters, "Don't worry about it." Mark raises his eyebrows, and Eduardo amends, "If I needed you to know, I'd speak English."
"Even so," Mark persists, "it doesn't seem fair. I can hardly talk dirty in binary, and I failed Spanish spectacularly. I can't order tacos, let alone talk about your dick."
Wardo's blush deepens. "It just feels more .... I don't know if you'd like hearing it, but I like saying it - it feels ... sexy. And if I say it in Portuguese I don't have to worry." Mark is still looking at him, and he adds, face now redder than Mark knew faces could get, "It's all compliments. Don't worry. And sometimes profanity."
It's clear that he's not going to say anymore, and they're both exhausted - they were tired before they decided that 1 AM fucking was the way to go - so Mark rolls over and gets comfortable, and Eduardo goes to clean up. Mark is dozing when Wardo gets back to bed, and so he barely hears the whispered "meu coração" that ghosts over his ear. He only registers more nasal chewiness. He decides it can't be that bad, though, when it's immediately followed by an arm across his chest, pulling him close and tucking his head under an only-slightly-pointy chin.