just how your love can do what no one else can

But reading a book full of badly written porn is not worth the effort, so when the movie comes out, at some point he and Eduardo agree that they’ll spend Valentine’s Day evening watching it and laughing at all the ridiculousness. Because Eduardo does not like bad movie watching, usually, but he’s also not boring. Eduardo also generally likes making fun of things that are not plausible, not just things are bad.

Walking out of the theater, both of them realize that this was a big, big mistake.

“How did they even—” Eduardo starts. He bites his lip.

The sky is black and full of stars and Mark is wearing Eduardo’s jacket, on the insistence that it was February and still winter, Mark. Mark had gotten accustomed to the Californian weather, living nearly seaside, but Eduardo continues to bug Mark about wearing more than just a t-shirt and hoodie in fifty degree weather.

“Nothing in that movie made sense,” says Mark.

“The soundtrack was good,” Eduardo says helpfully.

“They were probably trying to cover up how awful it actually was. It didn’t help.”

“Yeah,” Eduardo sighs.

*

So, that’s the end of that. Or at least as much as Mark thinks, because he wants to spend only so much time thinking about that terrifying movie, and not even in a horror movie way. Life goes on, he works on Facebook, Eduardo works from home, it’s all good.

Until one day when Mark is flushed and breathless underneath Eduardo, who has one finger just pressed inside Mark, all the way to the knuckle, and biting at Mark’s collarbone. Eduardo says, “Don’t touch yourself,” and because Mark is pretty into being told when it’s Eduardo and it’s in bed and they’re not driving or someone’s hovering over his computer, he says, “Yeah.”

And then Eduardo just gives in too easily, he puts in another finger and when he hits Mark’s prostate Mark cries out and Eduardo drives him over the edge, too fast and too quick. As Mark comes down, he realizes he has to do something.

See, okay, he and Eduardo have done food play, when it was Eduardo’s birthday and Mark had gotten a can of whipped cream and Eduardo was incredibly baffled when Mark shoved it in Eduardo’s hands and said, “Put this wherever you want on me,” and the first thing Eduardo had done was spray a dollop on Mark’s head. Later Eduardo got the idea and had to help Mark shower afterward because even Mark couldn’t really—it was difficult. Eduardo gets creative when he understands things.

And they’ve also done ice play (which was satisfactory), and wax play (which was less, but only because Eduardo had underestimated how sensitive Mark’s nipples are), and Eduardo had bought Mark thigh highs once and Mark went on a tangent about Victoria’s Secret and the Golden Gate Bridge and models and whatever. Eduardo had tried to get Mark to call him “sir” before but Mark couldn’t manage it without snorting, so they’d forgone that. And they do power play stuff all the time, because Mark likes fighting with Eduardo and Eduardo likes trying to control Mark, so it’s all very harmonious and communicative and good.

But when it comes to actually establishing roles of like, power, Mark realizes that he’s not giving enough, and maybe Eduardo gives entirely too much. So one day he comes to Eduardo, who is looking at papers on their kitchen table, sets his laptop down in front of Eduardo, and says, “I want to make a point.”

“You always do,” Eduardo says distractedly, looking from one sheet of paper to another, both in his hands.

Mark plants his hand on one to get Eduardo’s attention. “I meant about that awful BDSM movie,” he says to Eduardo’s face.

Eduardo shudders. “Don’t remind me,” he says, prying the paper out from between Mark’s hand and the table. “I don’t want to think about that again.”

“Yes, but see? That’s the whole point.” Mark sits down across from Eduardo, crossing his elbows over his laptop. “It was a terrible representation of BDSM, on top of being a completely horrendous movie.”

Eduardo glances up at him hesitantly, before looking back down at his papers. “What’s the point you’re trying to make?” he asks cautiously.

“We can do a better job of it,” says Mark.

And Eduardo’s eyes totally darken at that, and he doesn’t tell Mark to stop. So Mark continues, “You can be the Steele guy and I’ll be Anna what’s-her-face—”

Eduardo chokes. Mark thinks maybe he’s turned Eduardo on or something (though Eduardo has proven to be very stubborn even when he’s turned on, in the past); but then Eduardo snickers, “Are you going to wear a pencil skirt and heels now?”

Mark considers this seriously. “Well,” he says. “If you want me to.”

And that’s what starts it off.

*

Mark is in a button-up, one of the few of his own (Eduardo had insisted that this wouldn’t be authentic if Mark had to wear one of his shirts), pressed slacks, and his hair is neatly washed and even conditioned, which Mark is usually too lazy to do bother with on most days.

He knocks on the wooden door of Eduardo’s office. Eduardo’s voice calls, “Come in.”

Today Eduardo is wearing a full on tux, the kind he only wears to really big business junctures, that make him look about forty-two instead of in his early thirties. Since he’s gained weight over the years, the broad black shoulders of the jacket fit him nicely, visibly tighter in the bicep areas, and his hair is gelled but not in that annoying helmet hair way. Mark’s mouth waters on sight.

He collects himself and clears his throat, hovering in the doorway of Eduardo’s office. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Saverin?” he says, in his best attempt of a small voice.

Eduardo is working on his laptop, and once Mark speaks he buckles down over it. Mark frowns, thinking that there’s something wrong for a second—but then Eduardo resurfaces, and he’s fucking cackling.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes, looking at Mark and snickering again. “I’m sorry, but you just called me Mr. Saverin.”

“Amanda or whatever called the guy Mr. Steele.” Mark is annoyed. “That’s the only name I remember from the whole fucking movie.”

“I know,” says Eduardo, though he sounds fond. “Ah—continue.” He’s still chortling.

“I can’t if you’re going to keep laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry, just—how can you even maintain a straight face?” Eduardo takes one look at Mark and laughs again. “And you’re holding a Harry Potter book. As my secretary.”

“It looks like paperwork,” Mark says pointedly, even though it doesn’t; the book’s just big.

Eduardo smirks, though he’s calmed down most of his facial muscles, thankfully enough. “We can continue,” he says. “Go on, Mr. Zuckerberg.”

Mark rolls his eyes, but proceeds with his lines and roleplay or whatever.

They break character about five times, but it ends with Mark bent over Eduardo’s desk with the metal of his belt buckle getting pressed to the back of Mark’s thighs, so Mark deems it a success.

search

tags // categories // advanced filtering options

© 2009-2026 aroceu

There are 298 fics here, with a total of 1,636,168 words.

The most recent fic was posted on 21 Jan 2025 @ 1:47 pm.

credits & faq // documentation // contact // to top