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twodongs2017-05-06 01:00 am
ex_aroceu318) wrote in twodongs2017-05-06 01:00 am
Entry tags:
round one (8 may - 14 may)
TOP LEVEL COMMENTS ONLY
| DAY | PROMPT | PUNISHMENT |
|---|---|---|
| Monday (May 8) | retroactive title drop | no wip for isy next time; no new fic for aro next time |
| Tuesday (May 9) | describe light in 50 words or more | not allowed to dm (one/both) |
| Wednesday (May 10) | femslash | not allowed to dm (one/both) |
| Thursday (May 11) | use the word “obsequious” | namedrop someone we hate in public |
| Friday (May 12) | write for a fandom we’ve never written before | not allowed to dm (one/both) |
| Saturday (May 13) | write a minimum of 4000 words | write 300 words of iwaoi |
| Sunday (May 14) | aro: describe hands isy: describe eyes |
not allowed to dm (one/both) |
* feel free to edit/add new comments if more is written on the day; comments are meant to encapsulate everything that is written, not just the part that fulfills the prompt
** clarification - "not allowed to dm" is a punishment for the day after, not a preexisting condition
WEDNESDAY, MAY 10
only smth short today :(
Padma looks up from her book. The Spy Who Came In From The Cold. It’s Victoria station, afternoon rush hour. Padma is unobtrusive in a blue peacoat and a sensible charcoal pencil skirt, like one of the many women on their way home from work—not that she needs to blend in, given the layers of Disillusionment she’s operating under. In the last few months, Pansy has become particularly adept at breaking through Disillusionment charms; they’re Padma’s specialty.
“Why,” Padma says, “are you worried people will think we’re friends?”
Pansy scoffs at that. “I would hardly make that assumption. Look at you. So pedestrian.”
“Because trouser suits and shoulder pads didn’t die with Lady Di,” Padma says.
“Very funny,” Pansy says, because the alternative is owning up to the fact that she has no idea who Lady Di is—some Muggle celebrity, no doubt—and the one thing she can tell is that Padma’s teasing her. “So who’s your line?”
Padma raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your line,” Pansy says, “your inside man. Do I have to teach you everything?”
“Just the lingo,” Padma says. “I have no inside man. I got this tip-off on my own steam.”
“Figures.” Pansy sits back on the bench, folds her arms across her chest. “Let me teach you something else, IKB: it’s common courtesy to keep your fingers out of other people’s pies.”
“Enough with the metaphors,” Padma snaps.
Good. Pansy wants to wear down her patience. She watches as Padma taps out a rhythm against the spine of her book. It’s getting closer to the drop time.
Plainly, Pansy says, “This is my purchase to make. Not yours.”
“It was advertised as open to the highest bidder,” Padma says.
“And the highest bidder is always me,” Pansy says. “When you’ve been in this business for a little longer, you’ll understand. Nobody steps out of line on my manor.”
“What, and the entire city of London is your manor?”
“My deals are my manors.” Pansy gives Padma her best intimidating glare, tilting her chin up—they’re about the same height when seated, so it’s the best Pansy can do.
Padma smirks, folding her book closed and dog-earing a corner. (Pansy nearly flinches at that.) “Seems like you just decided this now.”
“Well, Padma,” Pansy says, “may the best woman win.”
nsfwish eduardo/mark femslash kink negotiation (1/3)
When it comes to sex, that's one of the things they have to talk about but are kind of bad at, because Mark won't talk about a problem if it's not in the room, and Eduardo likes to pretend problems don't exist until they become so prominent that her face turns red and she yells and/or breaks things. And sex isn't a problem, really; but needing to talk about, like, doing something different, something new can certainly feel like a problem, and it's much easier to just keep kissing and kissing until it becomes inevitable that Mark is going to go down on Eduardo in the shower.
But talking about sex--or, really, kinks, if Mark is being honest--becomes a requirement when Eduardo makes an off-hand comment to Mark one day, "I like taking care of you," and suddenly it's all Mark can think about. Eduardo taking care of her, calling her miss, asking if she needs anything else, offering to dress Mark and dry her hair in the mornings. Being in a french maid outfit and dusting the house while Mark goes off to work. Untangling her hair or combing a brush through it or petting her awake, like she used to do at Harvard except Eduardo hadn't actually been trying to wake Mark up back then, Mark just pretended she was still asleep while Eduardo threaded her fingers in Mark's hair. Mark doesn't know if there's some sort of internalized misogyny kink or something going on, but she's a lesbian and it helps her get off when either she or Eduardo have to fly out away from each other on business, so whatever.
Eduardo doesn't necessarily take care of Mark, even; she frowns when Mark doesn't sleep enough or ungraciously piles vegetables into her bowl of stirfry, but in a way that girlfriends are supposed to do. Mark thinks. She's actually not sure; she hasn't had many girlfriends before.
She brings this up casually to Chris, one day, in the most subtle way possible.
"Hey, is it weird that Eduardo takes care of me so much?"
Chris snorts, not looking up from texting his fiance. "Weird in what way?"
Mark lifts a shoulder. "I don't know. Like, in an Oedipal complex way?"
This Chris lifts his head up for. "You do know what an Oedipal complex is, right?" he says.
"Yeah, I know, I'm not a dude, but it's still a matron thing." Mark frowns in thought. "Is Wardo being matronly?"
"She's being Wardo," says Chris, "which means that when your girlfriend has an asinine sleep schedule and frankly fatal capability of looking after her health, you're pretty much obligated to make sure that you stay alive."
Mark says, "Criticism isn't attractive on you."
"You asked for my advice, Mark," Chris says. She had come to his office, slouching in the chair opposite him. "Besides, if Sean had half the lifestyle that you have, I'd be fussing over him too. You'd take care of Eduardo if she was self-destructive, right?"
"I'm not self-destructive," Mark says defensively.
But the point's made. Well, not really, but Mark is comforted to know that she's not harboring some sort of weird psychological association, especially considering her mom is a psychologist. Actually, her mom probably went out of her way to make sure that Mark or none of her sisters ended up with a parental complex.
So that makes Mark feel a bit better. She still likes the idea of Eduardo taking care of her, though, especially when they do fuck and Eduardo has a finger slotted in Mark's cunt, her other hand stroking the inside of her thigh and murmuring, "Yeah, come on, Mark, come for me, you can do it." Mark's orgasm squeezes out of her with a shiver and a thrust of her hips, moaning out obscenities around Eduardo's shoulders before climbing over her and kissing her and making sure it's reciprocated because Eduardo's always so good to her. Eduardo smiles into her kiss like she expects it, but sometimes Mark just wants to let her know how much she loves her, how much she appreciates her, not from a place of expectation but because she does.
She doesn't quite know how to broach the topic, though. A few evenings later when their sleepy kisses are getting less sleepy and more heady, the thought intrudes in her Eduardo-kissed haze and Mark absently grabs Eduardo's hand which is gripping onto Mark's sleep shorts, and drags it up to her head.
Eduardo breaks away from Mark and looks at her with an adorably confused expression on her face. "What are you doing?" she asks, lips distractingly bruised from all their kissing.
Mark stares at her, and more pointedly shoves Eduardo's hand into her curls. "Nothing," she says, hoping Eduardo will get the hint.
But Eduardo squints at her. "Do you not want to have sex tonight?"
"No," Mark says, so quickly that Eduardo's frown deepens. "I just - you can put your hand here." She pats at her hair with intent, imagining the way Eduardo had done her hair for an event, or sometimes would absentmindedly stroke it back in Harvard when Mark would accidentally fall asleep on her shoulder, tights and tugs and the tangle of Eduardo's fingers tickling over her scalp.
Eduardo looks worried, or - suspicious. "Is there something you need to tell me?" she asks.
"What would I need to tell you?" says Mark.
"About why you don't want me to take your underwear and pants off."
"It's not - " Mark breaks off and sighs. Eduardo is hovering above her, on her elbows, with a look in her eyes that says that she's going to get an answer out of Mark and that if she doesn't, she's either going to passively aggressively go to sleep or start yelling or something. Mark doesn't really want it to go either way, but she also doesn't want to say hey you should play with my hair every once in awhile, also like when I eat you out you should totally pull it and also take care of me and making sure that I'm healthy and alive and happy.
"Never mind," Mark says. "We can - " she tugs down her shorts and wriggles them off.
"No, hold on," says Eduardo, putting a hand on Mark's wrist. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing," Mark says, but Eduardo's gaze is pinning her to the bed - well, that, and she's literally pinning her to the bed still, so Mark manages to get out, "I just want you to touch my hair sometimes, or a lot, it feels good, especially when you brush it or straighten it or pet it." She turns red after saying pet it - that feels like too much.
Eduardo exhales through her nose. "That's what you wanted to tell me?"
"It wasn't easy! And you forced it out of me."
Mark immediately goes silent when Eduardo drags a hand through Mark's short curls, putting light pressure on her scalp and tucking a strand behind her ear. Mark can't help it when she lets out a low shudder, glaring as this gets a smirk out of Eduardo.
"I don't mind it," she says. "I mean, I like it. But I wasn't sure about your boundaries--"
"I don't have a lot of boundaries when it comes to you," Mark says honestly.
And that's how approximately several minutes later, Mark's head is between Eduardo's thighs while Eduardo has a hand stuffed in Mark's hair, rubbing and digging into her scalp so tight that Mark comes by grinding against the bed.
So they go to bed sated and happy, though it's still just--the hair is a part of it. The roleplaying thing that Mark now fantasizes about. She hates the idea of roleplay in the bedroom because she just wants herself to be Mark and Eduardo to be Eduardo, but--well. Eduardo as like, a maid or something would be hot. If she was an actual maid or not--and now that Eduardo knows, the next morning she kisses Mark awake while running her fingers through her hair, braids it absently on a flight to Norway that they both have to go to several weeks later, sifts through Mark's curls when Mark lays her head on her lap, instead of just resting her hand on her head.
And Mark has never had any doubts that Eduardo cares about her. (Well, now and after everything at least.) Sometimes Mark wants to curl into Eduardo's side and just stay there, because there's nowhere else she'd rather be and Eduardo can do all the heavy lifting, except for when it comes to anything technology-related because Eduardo is pathetic at that. And other times Mark wants to curl around Eduardo and do all the heavy lifting herself, especially when Eduardo's mouth tightens when her father calls, or when she comes home anxious with stressed and wild hair, or when sometimes Mark can read it in her eyes that Eduardo never feels like she's doing enough, in their relationship or at work or anything.
But Mark's just pretty sure all that comes with the territory of being in a relationship. Or at least she thinks so. Erica and like the two other girls she hooked up with pre-post-pre Eduardo aren't much of a comparison to go off on, but Mark's not super worried about, well, feeling too much.
Wanting Eduardo in a french maid costume is not feeling too much. It's wanting Eduardo in a french maid costume.
So the hair-petting thing is good--it gets Mark into a weird submissive headspace that they discover once when Eduardo is petting her head while they're watching TV and Mark unwittingly lets out a moan (leading to sex on the couch during Prison Break.)
And so in this, during another time when Eduardo is practicing some presentation she's giving at a function in a couple of weeks on the couch, fingers absently toying with Mark's curls while Mark is sitting on the ground, that Mark is so distracted by the feeling that she decides to just pull up a picture of a french maid in Google images and props up her laptop and says, "Would you wear this?"
Eduardo's muttering, "'It's only natural to believe' - what?" She looks up at Mark's laptop. "Mark, what is this?"
Mark huffs. "What does it look like?" Eduardo's fingers are still combing through Mark's unruly curls, out of a now-developed habit.
"It looks like a french maid dress," Eduardo says, raising her eyebrows.
"Outfit," Mark corrects. "French maid outfit."
Eduardo eyes her. "Do you want me in a french maid 'outfit'?" She uses finger quotes.
Mark quickly pulls her laptop back down. "I may have thought about it once or twice," she says without meeting Eduardo's eyes, closing the tab. "And it was just a suggestion."
"Nothing you say is just a suggestion," Eduardo points out. "Like this." She tugs at a fistful of Mark's curls, and Mark has to cross her legs at that. When she glowers up at Eduardo, Eduardo's smirking again.
"Okay, fine," Mark relents. "Yes, I think about you being in a french maid outfit a lot. And like, taking care of me. More than you do, I mean. Actually not in the way that you do, but in a way that a french maid would do. Or just any maid. Like a personal maid who looks after me. Which is redundant."
Her cheeks feel warm by the end of her ramble, but when she peeks up at Eduardo again, Eduardo's grinning - not in a way where she's making fun of Mark, but in that she's glad that she got so many words out of her. And there's something dark and curious in Eduardo's eyes, too, which Mark also recognizes.
"You know," she says, setting her papers down and sitting next to Mark. "If you said that earlier, you'd know earlier that I'm really not against any of that."
"I'm saying it now," Mark grumbles.
Eduardo kisses her pout away, curling a hand at the side of Mark's neck and pushing into the curls at the back of her head. Mark makes a small noise into the kiss.
"We can buy a french maid outfit," Eduardo says. "If you want."
*
nsfwish eduardo/mark femslash kink negotiation (2/3)
"Good morning," she says, eyes flickering over Mark's face. "Miss Zuckerberg," she tacks on, smirking when Mark glares at her.
Mark would say something like I shouldn't have to tell you to call me Mark, but that would also be breaking the role and they did agree earlier that it was--they'd both have to play the part, otherwise it just wouldn't have the effect. Plus Mark doesn't really mind for Eduardo specifically, in this roleplaying situation, to call her "Miss Zuckerberg," because it gives her a kind of thrill of power she never had before. No one at Facebook, not even the interns, call her that--not that Mark would want them to--but in that it's new, that it's only Eduardo--it's special, their thing.
So Mark lets it go and mumbles, "Good morning," clutching her towel around her torso and shuffling into the room. Eduardo has lain out her clothes for the day on the bed, which she must've gotten while Mark was in the shower. It looks kind of pathetic in comparison to Eduardo's black flared skirt with white ruffles underneath, corset and faux apron, fishnet stockings, black pumps (that she already owned--"I don't really need new heels if I already own a pair that works,") topped with a lacy white and black hair band--but Eduardo looking like this is something only Mark will be privy to, which makes Mark feel smug and hot.
Eduardo takes the cordless hairdryer that Mark rarely and only Eduardo really uses and blows it through Mark's hair. It's warm and kind of annoying, but only until Eduardo is stroking her fingers through Mark's curls separating by strands. It feels really fucking good but lasts only for a few minutes, until Eduardo says, "There, we won't want your hair to end up all frizzy, will we?" and turns it off. Mark would make her dry her hair more, but Eduardo does have a point.
Then she hands Mark her underwear and sports, while actually blushing, which Mark can't tell if it's acting or genuine. "I can leave the room while you change," Eduardo says, something they've never been concerned with before. So, acting then. "If you want."
"It's fine," Mark says, and then drops her towel to see Eduardo faux blush harder and immediately turn away.
Mark wrangles her underwear on, adjusting her bra strap as Eduardo pretends she isn't watching and turns back around. "Do you have a preference for breakfast?" Eduardo asks, as she hands Mark her t-shirt and straightens it out as Mark tugs it over her head, passing her her jeans next.
Mark shrugs. "Eggs and toast?" she says, getting done the button on her jeans. When Eduardo wraps the hoodie around her shoulders, Mark fights the urge to kiss her--as they do in the mornings, and as they had before the day started and Eduardo had gotten into this dress. But as Eduardo zips up her hoodie, pursing her lips and then peering up at her through her eyelashes, Mark has to restrain--she's supposed to be in-character too.
Clearing her throat, she trudges out and asks, "Breakfast?"
"Yes, Miss--um--" says Eduardo. "Yes."
They make their way downstairs; Eduardo is only an inch taller than Mark at their regular heights, but with the pumps on she towers over her more significantly and it's kind of hot. Eduardo begins making breakfast while Mark boots up her laptop at the kitchen table, checking the work from the night shift and pretending she's not staring at Eduardo's cleavage when Eduardo reaches over to turn on the stove fan. Eduardo tuts and makes food as Mark works; this is completely foreign to when they're both hunched over their breakfast and working on something or other at the table while playing footsie.
Eduardo brings her breakfast over, and Mark blurts, "Have you eaten yet?"
The smile on Eduardo's face flashes amused before it turns shy. "Of course," she says. "I had breakfast while you were in the shower."
"Oh," says Mark. "That makes sense."
Eduardo just keeps smiling as she goes over to dust something. It's weird to have her just... explain without snarking back at Mark. It's certainly not preferable, because being able to argue with Eduardo is one of the reasons Mark loves being with her in the first place, but it's just the weird power thing, Mark supposes, about how she doesn't really mind it either. And Eduardo seems to be having a good time pretending that it's her job to work for Mark like this, judging by the way she's humming to herself while she dusts the top of the refrigerator.
Mark gets lost in her code soon enough, as it is inevitable. She can hold her toast in one hand while she types, but eggs are a different story and it's soon enough where her eyes are so glued to her laptop screen that her scrambled eggs go cold. It's been maybe half an hour since Eduardo's placed her breakfast on the table, when she comes back from whatever she'd been cleaning (they'd been needing to dust around the house more anyway) and says, "You still haven't finished your eggs?"
Mark mumbles something and continues typing on the screen.
Eduardo lets out a little huff. Before Mark knows it, Eduardo is sitting next to her at the table, scooping up a forkful of eggs, and holds it up to Mark's face.
Mark stares, and blinks at her. "What are you doing?"
"Finish your food, Miss Zuckerberg." Eduardo has managed to make servitude sound commanding.
Mark glares at her, and then the eggs. But, well--fine. She had thought about Eduardo feeding her, so she opens her mouth and lets Eduardo slide the fork of eggs in. Mark closes her lips around the prongs, sliding it into her mouth, chewing, and then swallowing. She opens her mouth again expectantly. Eduardo's eyes go dark.
They don't say anything as Eduardo finishes feeding her the rest of her eggs, while Mark continues typing on her laptop like she's ignoring her. Finally, when they're done, Mark packs her laptop into her bag and picks up her keys, heading out to the garage. Eduardo goes back to cleaning, but there's a palpable tension that will just result in Mark staying at home for the day and getting the fishnet stockings off of Eduardo's legs way earlier than they would like if Mark doesn't leave now.
"Have a good day at work, Miss Zuckerberg," Mark hears Eduardo call to her, before Mark closes the door behind her.
Mark drives to work with a frenetic ball of energy in her chest, trying not to think too hard about Eduardo being home alone in her maid outfit. They had discussed if Eduardo would be allowed to take it off, or go to work while they weren't in the vicinity of each other or at home, but Eduardo had said that playing the role even if Mark wasn't around would get her more into the headspace, feeling real more than a part that she plays only when Mark is around. Which Mark is perfectly okay with, and actually finds kind of hot--just the idea of Eduardo being alone in the big house, and still wearing the french maid outfit. And cleaning things that need to be cleaned anyway, since Mark is kind of the worst at caring about that in the first place, and while Eduardo has dragged her for a few weekends in the past to dedicate the entire day to cleaning down the house, it doesn't happen often enough since Mark doesn't care and therefore Eduardo doesn't have much of an incentive to work outside of her own desires.
This--thing, though. While Mark still presently doesn't care much about the cleanliness of the house, she's in that position of expectation to and that more easily drives Eduardo to work. And Mark is proud of Eduardo, anyway, for wanting to work and now utilizing this need to.
The whole day drags on longer than necessary. Mark is trying so hard not to think about Eduardo in that stupid sexy french maid dress that Dustin peers in and says, "Is there something wrong, or do I need to defibrillate you?"
"Nothing," says Mark, before her brain processes Dustin's question. "I mean. Nothing's wrong."
Dustin squints at her. "So I do need to defibrillate you?"
"I'm fine," Mark says, averting her gaze back to her computer screen. She clicks kind of pointlessly. Eduardo hasn't played her turn on Words With Friends yet, which means she probably is still playing the part in her french maid stuff, and now Mark's thinking about it again.
"O-kay," Dustin says uncertainly, "because you look like something's bothering you. Everything good at home?"
"Yes," Mark says quickly, because she doesn't want to tell--well, and he probably wouldn't to hear, anyway--about Eduardo in her new french maid costume.
"Are you suuuuuure?"
"Yes, Dustin, I'm fine," Mark snaps. The clock in the corner of her computer says 1:45PM. "Why won't this day go any faster," she says to herself.
Dustin leaves her office, muttering about antisocial CEOs.
At exactly 6:00, Mark leaves the office to go home--she's actually had a surprisingly regular schedule since she and Eduardo had become this--thing, so it's nothing out of the ordinary. When Mark gets home, she's greeted by the smell of dinner and suddenly realizes how hungry she is. Her thoughts had been so occupied with pointedly not Eduardo, and Eduardo, that she may have forgotten to eat lunch. Not like she'll mention it to her. (Not now, anyway.)
"Welcome home Miss Zuckerberg," Eduardo says from frying something on the stovetop. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, if you want to sit down."
Mark awkwardly inclines her head. Eduardo shoots her a fond grin--one of her actual ones, not just for the part--like to remind her of the secret. She doesn't look like she's taken off the outfit all day, and everything in the house does look just a bit shinier, and Mark can't really think about it for too long or else she'll forget about anything else, like she did at work today.
Eduardo sets the table for Mark's dinner. She doesn't add an extra set of plates and utensils, so she probably ate before Mark came home too. Mark gets to eating, and says, "How was your day?" because she's not really sure if CEOs talk about their own day to their maids the way Mark would do normally with Eduardo.
Eduardo laughs lightly under her breath. "The same as usual," she says, which is bullshit and a cop-out and Mark tries not to snort. "What about you? I'm sure yours was more interesting than mine."
"I'm not paying you to be obsequious," Mark says, hiding a grin when Eduardo instinctively opens her mouth probably to say that Mark isn't paying her at all, and then immediately shutting it. "You can tell me about your day, you know."
"I'm sure you want to hear all about the toilets I cleaned," Eduardo says, getting up. "Are you stressed? I can give you a massage if you want."
Mark kind of wants to call her out on changing the topic, but the thought of a massage is too much for her to say anything other than, "Yes please." Eduardo goes around behind her and begins rubbing her thumbs at Mark's neck, with a hard enough pressure that Mark almost chokes on her food.
"Oh, sorry," Eduardo says, gripping Mark's shoulders between her fingers instead, thumbs pressing into Mark's upper back.
"It's fine," Mark murmurs. Eduardo's hands are magical, relaxing and unraveling the tension in Mark's muscles, the knots of stress that have kind of just formed there just from working nearly every day. Mark eats, and the food is delicious, but it's also hard to concentrate on the meal as Eduardo rolls Mark's muscles in her fingers, using her palms to stroke and push at the tightness in parallel with Mark's spine like piano wires. And then it goes from just every day stress to a high-strung erogenous zone, with each point of pressure of Eduardo's fingertips sending tingles from her shoulders to her toes, her elbows to the back of her thighs, the dip of her neck to the space between her legs. Mark struggles not to moan as she finishes her dinner, but Eduardo's thumb presses at a dip in her back and Mark makes a small noise despite herself, hot electricity thrumming beneath the surface of her skin.
When Mark finishes her dinner, Eduardo pulls back and is smirking to herself. "All better?" she asks.
"Yes," Mark bites out, despite herself. "Thank you."
Eduardo's eyes widen in surprise and bends down for a second, near Mark's face--a moment later she's jerking back, like she'd just remembered herself.
"You're welcome," she says, and Mark is pretty sure the flush in her cheeks is genuine this time. "I'll do the dishes."
"I'll be in my office," Mark tells her, because she's not sure how long she can actually handle this sexual tension anymore.
Her office is more the office, which means it's more both of their office, which really means that Eduardo is here most of the time because she tends to work from home more than Mark, unless they both are in which they share the space. Even though Eduardo has her own office space, it's technically rented out and she electronically communicates with her clients more than anything, as compared to Mark who is, well, Mark Zuckerberg.
Still, right now Eduardo is her maid, so the office Mark works in is hers. Working in the evening is really double-checking some of the emails her COO sends her, responding to the chief designer about format changes, fighting about what new functions should be on the next code push, and fixing some shit algorithms Mark had bullshitted her way through during the day. Mark works accordingly, sitting in the big leather chair and typing rapidly on her laptop. It's actually easier to focus at home today, but probably because if Eduardo as her maid isn't anywhere nearby, Mark can't stop thinking about her.
Eduardo comes into the office soon enough, looking over the books on the bookshelf, tapping her chin and rearranging some things with a frown. The book on that shelf are hers, anyway; Mark's are on the opposite wall.
"Wardo," Mark says absently, scowling at her computer screen and hating math. She forgets that she'd called Eduardo's name until Eduardo appears at her side, looking expectant. "I need your help with this algorithm," Mark says, pointing at her program.
Eduardo hovers over her shoulder. "Oh," she says. "I see what you're trying to do. But maybe if--"
She grabs the notepad and a pen from the desk, and scribbles an algorithm on it. "This would probably work better," she tells Mark, setting the pen down.
Mark looks up at her. "Thank you," she says, and Eduardo beams at her, because that's what she does.
Mark curls a hand around Eduardo's elbow, and then tugs at the hem of her short sleeve, encouraging her down. Eduardo watches her, but follows the movement, leans down to meet her when Mark presses up for a kiss. Mark peppers Eduardo's sweet mouth with kisses, and Eduardo responds accordingly to every one--the slight delay as she waits for what Mark wants to do, bend forward, hands folded in her lap while Mark's hand is shoved at the back of Eduardo's neck and into her hair.
Mark gets her other hand at Eduardo's waist, tugging Eduardo onto her lap, knees between her spread legs as Mark kisses the corner of Eduardo's jaw. "I'm, ah, not sure if you're allowed to thank me this way," Eduardo says, as Mark skims a hand over her bodice, her mouth making a way down Eduardo's neck.
"Allowed according to what?" Mark murmurs against her skin. "This is my way of paying you, isn't it?"
Eduardo lets out a little gasp as Mark spreads Eduardo's legs around her, closing her own thighs between. Mark tucks a hand under Eduardo's skirt, gliding over the ridged patterns of fishnet lace and Eduardo's smooth skin, and Eduardo lets out these breathy noises that make Mark get wet in her jeans.
VERY NSFW eduardo/mark femslash kink negotiation (3/3)
"What did you do today," Mark asks in the crevice between her chest.
"I took off my stockings," Eduardo says. "I touched myself and I thought of you."
The thought is so hot that Mark's vision whites out for a moment. "You took off your stockings?" she asks. "Did you take off anything else?"
"N-No," says Eduardo, as Mark puts pressure around where she knows Eduardo's nipple is, through the tight corset. Mark kind of wants to tear the whole torso bit apart, except then that would like, break the outfit, and they'd have to buy a new one.
"Not even the heels?" Mark asks.
"No," Eduardo says. "I was just--in my panties, in the dress, in the heels, thinking about you."
Fuck. "You fucked yourself with your fingers?" Mark murmurs, mouthing at the plush of Eduardo's breasts. Eduardo's breathing is getting faster, and she lets out a sexy little whine that makes Mark want to fuck her to oblivion. "Getting all wet and thinking of me?"
"So wet," Eduardo breathes, and Mark ducks a hand under Eduardo's skirt and she can't feel a lot through the layers of cloth, the stockings and Eduardo's underwear but it's still hot down there and makes Eduardo groan against her. Mark slips her hands around Eduardo's big thighs, massaging and squeezing, going around to clutch Eduardo's tight ass in her palms while she buries her face in Eduardo's tits.
"Mark--" Eduardo gasps. "Mark."
Mark doesn't realize Eduardo's trying to say something to her until Eduardo manages to wrangle herself away. Mark frowns at her. "What do you want, Wardo?" she asks.
Eduardo, with her deeply flushed face and the line of wetness across her breasts from Mark's mouth, tucks her hair behind her neck and says, "I want to know what you want." She straightens herself up a little. "I want to take care of you."
And, well--isn't that why they're doing this in the first place? Mark's mouth goes kind of dry because she's torn between wanting to fuck Eduardo and get fucked by her and she doesn't know how to do it all. "Yeah," Mark says, despite herself. "Yeah, that sounds good."
Eduardo slips off of her, and it's disappointing at first until Eduardo has her hands on the button of Mark's jeans, and Mark is helping her slip them off. "I'm supposed to make you feel good, remember?" Eduardo says, getting Mark's boyshorts off too. Then she's just naked from the waist down and Eduardo is pressing kisses to the inside of her thigh, and Mark's skin is tingling from the sensation while her mind can't get the thought of Eduardo being so wet under her maid outfit out of her head.
"Yeah, Wardo," Mark gets out, as Eduardo kisses just the side of her pussy, where the hair tickles Eduardo's cheek. Eduardo nuzzles it, rubbing her nose against Mark's clit, a soft pressure that has Mark whining already.
Eduardo drapes Mark's legs over her shoulders so that Mark is slumped slightly in her seat, ass digging into the leather while Eduardo heaves her body towards Mark. She presses a light kiss against the hood of Mark's clit, making Mark squirm; then the rest of her mouth is spread against Mark's wet lips, plush against where Mark is sensitive, kissing at her with an obscenity that she's actually moaning at. Eduardo is moaning into her while she eats her and her tongue is so thick and velvet that it's only a matter of time before Mark comes with a hard tremble around Eduardo's face, twitching and twitching in the aftereffects.
Eduardo drags herself back up to kiss Mark on the mouth. Mark smiles into her, against Eduardo's shiny lips, licking her own taste out of Eduardo. "Fuck, you're so hot," Mark says, as Eduardo lets her, arms framed around Mark's body.
Eduardo kisses her cheek. "I'm not done yet," she says, grinning--and before Mark knows it, Eduardo has slunk back down between her legs, knees arched over her shoulders and mouth on Mark's cunt like she's on a mission.
She fucks Mark with her mouth and with her fingers, two slotted in deep and slow and then so fucking fast it has to make her wrist sore. "Come on, Mark," she says, "fucking come for me," and Mark does, crying out and pulsing so hard that she might squirt a little. And Eduardo licks her up when she does, which is so fucking hot, before shoving her face into Mark's pussy again, sucking and fingering at her that Mark is just jolting against her, grinding against her face, squirming so fucking hard that she might actually fall out of the chair if Eduardo hadn't laid her arm across Mark's hips to keep her in place.
Mark doesn't know how long Eduardo eats her out, how long she fucks her, whether it's Eduardo's fingers pressing into her, thumbing over her oversensitive clit as Eduardo murmurs in between kisses, "Does this feel good? Do you feel good, Miss Zuckerberg?" fingers inside of her moving at the same pace as Eduardo's tongue in her mouth. Mark's orgasms are in bursts and snatches and she doesn't feel like much other than a puddle of euphoria and bliss as Eduardo's fingers curl inside her, another on her breasts and pinching a nipple, Mark's hand with her as she moans and accidentally bumps her knee against the desk table. "Yeah, Mark, yeah," Eduardo pants, and Mark doesn't have the heart to correct her as another orgasm pushes out of her.
Mark squeezes her thighs around Eduardo's head, making Eduardo moan again. "Not," Mark gasps out, "not sure if I can come again." All the energy and horniness and need to come feels dissipated out of her veins, leaving her as nothing but buzzed and loose-limbed as Eduardo continues tonguing at her. Her tongue in her makes Mark want to fuck her face over and over again, but also Mark would be content just sitting here and feeling good without orgasm.
"C'mon, one more baby," Eduardo says, then catching herself. "One more, Miss Zuckerberg, let me take care of you, want you to come, want to make you come." Her fingers work so thick and hot in Mark, squelching and dripping in her thickness, and Mark feels bruised and red all over.
She comes with a shudder and it feels more dry than anything, a high whine that Eduardo watches with hazy eyes. When Mark's done, Eduardo has retracted her fingers out of her, a smug look on her face. Mark lies in the chair to catch her breath, letting Eduardo sit between her legs for a moment, before hoisting her by the shoulder and urging her up.
Eduardo laughs against Mark's mouth. "I think that might be better than the hair petting," she says, as Mark kisses her and kisses her, loving Eduardo and the taste of herself in Eduardo's mouth.
"Maybe a little bit," Mark says, and then Eduardo drags her fingers through her curls and along her scalp again and Mark groans out, "Ugh." When Eduardo laughs again, she says, "I hate you."
"I know." Eduardo smirks. "I love you too."
"How wet are you in those stockings?" Mark says, eyeing Eduardo's long legs.
Eduardo rolls her eyes. "Really fucking wet."
"You should sit on my face while still wearing your dress."
Eduardo's eyes go so dark that she drags Mark out of the office immediately.
*
There are a lot of things that Mark and Eduardo like to talk about together, like what Mark should wear to the next function or bad rhetoric when people try to argue with either of them or something they both overheard at the airport on their way back from a vacation or a business meeting. With Mark's head pillowed on Eduardo's naked chest, her face very wet (from Eduardo's pussy) and muscles very sore and happy, she figures that they can probably talk about this sex--kink--thing more.
"I don't know what else we can try," Mark says, and Eduardo snorts from where her fingers are scraping through Mark's hair.
"Are you serious? There's always something," Eduardo says.
Mark raises her head and props it on her chin. "Well what do you have in mind?"
"We're not going to fuck again, are we?" Eduardo asks warily.
Mark shakes her head no. "When we both have the energy again," she says. "Like tomorrow. Or in a week."
"Sounds good to me," Eduardo says, and then lazily runs her fingers through Mark's curls again. "Well, I've always wanted to have sex in a dressing room or on the beach..."
*
END