Fic: Leverage (Nate/Eliot): You Don't Run Cons on Your Own Team | NC-17 | 3285 words
Title: You Don't Run Cons on Your Own Team
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Nathan Ford/Eliot Spencer
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Slight spoilers for 3.01
Summary: Eliot had pretended that it was just for if the guards came to look but Nate had known better because he'd enjoyed strapping Nate down a little too much. Eliot's always been a physical kind of guy, though. Nate really should have seen this coming.
Word Count: 3285
A/N: Yay porn! ...Though like I need another damn fandom. ¬_¬
Eliot had pretended that it was just for if the guards came to look but Nate had known better. His gut had told him otherwise-just a little pit of apprehension that had called out a liar. There was something else going on because Nate was well aware that Eliot didn’t give a shit if the guards came and that Eliot had enjoyed strapping Nate down just a little too much. The cuffs hadn't been necessary, nor had they needed to be bound. Tilting the chair back, sure, but not the restraints. Then Eliot had pulled out that drill, said his little threat and Nate had known what was up.
It doesn't take a rocket science to do that little equation. Eliot's looking for a little bit of his own back. Nate had betrayed his trust and not only did Eliot not like that, but a little bit of power dynamics was just what the doctor ordered. Eliot has always been a physical kind of guy. He tends to prefer the very practical demonstrations. Nate had just given him the perfect opportunity, though he's pretty sure that Eliot could have found it anywhere. If not here then a knife point up against the wall or a twisted arm and being bent over a countertop. Eliot was a practical guy like that.
It’s all Nate's fault, anyway. He’d been just a little too good at his job. He’d taken a group of serial loners and turned them into a team with bonds closer than blood. He knows that any of them would die for the others and in a group of thieves? That's saying something. They're bound together and he's supposed to be one of them.
More than that, though, he’d fucked up. Oh, sure, he’d made the right call, but he’d still fucked up. He knows that but it still leaves Eliot, during the first time meeting him face to face since the whole snafu went down, strapping him down to a prison dental chair and threatening him with a drill-traditional and classic but with it's own little twist. Nate thinks that he should be proud. “You know what I usually do, Nate, to people that run a con on their own team?" Eliot snarls. "Almost get people killed because they’re out of control?”
He expects similar situations to happen with the rest of the group when he's finally on the outside, though probably with different contexts. They all have their own specialities, after all. “Are you okay, Eliot?”
He’d seen all of this coming from a mile away, of course. He really had. Despite being a thief and despite their previous status, the group was particularly loyal to each other so he would have had to be a moron not to expect repercussions. What he hadn’t see coming, though, was Eliot putting that menacing, clichéd little drill down and sliding a leg over Nate’s hips. Hello.
Eliot settles himself directly over top of Nate’s lap and Nate has a brief thought that maybe-just maybe-he’d been in prison a little too long. Because not only did Eliot have his attention but Nate is, uh, interested. Very.
“Do you know what I do to people that run a con on me?” Eliot rasps, his hands settling over Nate’s bound wrists, using them to brace himself as he leans forward. “Do you?” Eliot asks again, tilting his head so that feather-light hair of his flitters over his shoulder and Nate has to reassess the situation. Maybe he’d fucked up worse than he thought and, well, Eliot’s a very hands-on kind of guy.
“We don’t have time for this,” Nate says, trying to get a little bit of focus here because, hello! Prison and guard just aren’t empty words here but Eliot hisses, jerking his head to the side.
“You make time!” he snaps and Nate’s forced to agree when Eliot leans forward and kisses him. Yeah, uh, okay. Not like Nate’s going to disagree when he’s got Eliot’s tongue in his mouth.
Nate had known that Eliot was a good kisser. Somewhere in the back of his head, he’d noted that Eliot got a lot of tail without too many messy breakups and Nate had put two and two together and known that it had meant that Eliot probably had a few skills. Eliot’s good at the pull and that means a good kisser. Nate had definitely known that. However, knowing that and experiencing it are two very different things. Eliot licks along the seam of Nate’s lips, asking for permission strangely enough, and, with a groan, Nate gives it. God, yeah. Anything. Eliot rocks forward, wiggling on top of Nate and Nate surges upward, unable to stop himself.
Jeez, but Eliot feels nice up there. And there’s the understatement of the year. Sort of like saying that Katrina was a storm or that Sterling’s a little persistent.
Eliot swishes tongue in Nate’s mouth, setting up house and moving in, and it’s definitely different than kissing Sophie but that’s not a bad thing. Sophie’s sweet and accepting, just a little bit questioning-Eliot is harsh and demanding, wanting answers that Nate’s not sure he’s ready to give. Or even if he’ll ever be.
But Eliot’s here, commanding Nate’s surrender and Nate can do that at least. Just for a little while because it’s not like he has a choice with Eliot pinning him down. Nate gives it up and, this time, it’s Eliot’s turn to moan and he gives that little sinfully sweet wiggle again that has Nate starting to throb.
This is disgustingly vulgar, happening in a prison with a posted officer stationed just a few feet away but it’s sad because not only can Nate not say that he doesn’t want this but it’s not even the worst thing he’s done. So he meets Eliot with an answering swirl of tongue, moving into the kiss as much as possible because, yeah, Nate can be disgustingly vulgar, too.
He pushes Eliot back with sheer force of will and, miracles of miracles, Eliot actually goes. Except that he goes a little too far, breaking the kiss though Nate doesn’t think he was quite ready for that yet. He kind of wants Eliot to come back and do this some more and Nate should probably have a bit more focus here.
Okay, yeah. Definitely been in prison too long. Or something.
“This isn’t over,” Eliot whispers, a little rasp of a promise that makes Nate have to suppress a shiver because far be it to let Eliot know just how much he’d gotten to Nate. Then Eliot slides off and actually starts up the flashdrive, fulfilling the reason why they’re in this room and getting the ball rolling. Good.
Nate shifts uncomfortably and forces himself to pay attention to the screen.
This time it’s not a prison dental chair but Nate’s got to say that he’s doesn't find that fact the least bit comforting. It may be his own bed that Eliot’s pressing him down on but those are definitely handcuffs that Eliot’s pinning him down with and who knows where the rest of the team is. Who knows what they might be planning while he’s not watching?
But Eliot’s hands are covering his wrists again-pinned over his head this time-and Eliot’s hips are back with that little wiggle and lovely friction. Nate takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, to not get too excited.
...It’s just really fucking hard when he’s got a guy like Eliot on top of him and Eliot’s tight little ass grinding down on him, making all sorts of dangerous promises. Nate closes his eyes and tries to focus. Bangs his head back against the pillow and tries again. “Got time now, don’t we?” Eliot says and bends his head to nip underneath Nate’s jaw.
Right. Yes, they do. “Where, uh,” Nate clears his throat, “Where is everybody?”
Eliot moves back up to stare Nate down, his face impassive and giving away nothing. “Waiting their turn,” he states and that does not make Nate feel any better. Eliot’s little wiggle, though…that does. Nate sighs, chokes back a moan, and lifts up against Eliot.
Eliot grins. “Like that?” he drawls, repeating the motion and oh yes. Nate likes that. He’d liked that the first time and his opinion has yet to change.
Nate knows that Eliot’s got a bit of thing with Hardison and Parker and he doesn’t let it bother him because, well, Eliot’s a physical kind of guy. Always has been and the bizarre little arrangement that the three have worked out works for him. It works for all of them except for maybe Hardison but Hardison’s not about to turn down the likes of Parker and Eliot.
Hell, Nate’s not about to turn down the likes of Eliot. Especially considering just how damn rare it is. Eliot twists downward again and God. Nate’s just one step short of demanding that Eliot get on with it already. Nate’s not quite sure what Eliot’s got on his mind-not yet anyway-but he does think that he’s going to die if they don't speed this up just a little.
This is worse than getting shot. Worse because he knows that Eliot’s got the patience to make this last for hours. And it looks like he’s in the mood to play.
Eliot moves, but it’s just long enough to take off his jeans and then he’s back and Nate groans because Eliot is buck naked on top of him and that's a sight that just shouldn’t be legal. Eliot’s all smooth lines and hard muscle and he’s still twisting against Nate who’s straining in his pants. Nate can see all the way down Eliot’s chest to his lean hips, past that little bit of hair that leads down to the hard cock that’s now resting solidly against Nate. Eliot bends down to mouth at Nate’s jaw line again, soft lips catching at his skin with just a hint of teeth and little licks of his tongue, and Nate briefly considers begging. Only briefly because he knows that Eliot would only mock him for the display of weakness and make this last even longer.
And Nate would be damned if he’d give up that much, either.
Then Eliot’s moving back up to Nate’s mouth, tongue unfurling inside as he licks around and Nate meets him eagerly, completely giving the game away. He’s broadcasting his desperation loud and clear with each demanding thrust of his tongue and Eliot would have to be a lot stupider than what he is in order not to be able to read it. In Nate’s defense, however, it’s awfully damn hard to think when all of his blood is pooling in his groin.
“Yeah,” Eliot says, giving Nate another quick peck of a kiss. “Yeah. Just like that.” He screws down again and Nate’s got to agree. Yes. Just like that. Eliot finally moves his hands from Nate’s wrists, skimming them down his arms and moving to his throat to hold his head as they kiss some more.
Nate upgrades his estimate of Eliot’s skills of being merely “good” to “phenomenal.” Wow. Nate’s pretty sure that his toes are curling.
“Overdressed,” Eliot murmurs and he’s moving again, this time unbuttoning Nate’s shirt and pushing it out of his way. Eliot’s clever, clever fingers skate down Nate’s chest, rubbing teasing circles as he slowly-so fucking slowly-makes his way down and Nate has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the begging regardless of its known effects.
Somehow, Nate manages to hold it together until Eliot reaches his belt and finally undoes it. Nate jerks upward, unable to stop himself, breathing hard, and Eliot chuckles. “Easy there,” he whispers and fuck. It’s like Nate doesn’t have control over his own body. He jerks again.
Eliot pushes Nate’s pants down, gently sliding them over his hips and Nate groans. He doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t want this, lifting his hips and openly helping Eliot strip him naked. He needs to get on with this and, you know, for once, damn the consequences.
Pulling the clothes off and tossing them to the side, Eliot slides back up and he’s not just doing his little wiggle anymore-he’s moved it up to a constant rocking that has a painfully familiar rhythm. Nate bites down harder, trying so hard not to lose it. It’s been too damn long and he really doesn’t care what Eliot has planned at this point just as long as it leads to a satisfactory end.
“Gonna really like this,” Eliot purrs and then there’s a hand slicking up Nate’s cock with lube right before Eliot starts working himself down, tight and hot and sweet. Nate throws dignity out of the window and gives into the need to pant. Fuck but that’s good. He wants to chew Eliot out about the lack of condom but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. Can’t find it in himself to care about anything, actually, besides that wonderfully tight burn. God.
Nate’s own hand could never feel this damn good.
“Yeah,” Eliot says, his hands resting on Nate’s chest, sliding up under his unbuttoned shirt and onto his shoulders to brace against. Eliot starts to move, riding Nate with a smooth rhythm, skin to skin, and Nate’s starting to tremble despite himself. “Just like that…” Eliot’s voice has gotten impossibly raspier, breath hissing, and it’s damn good to know that he’s feeling this too.
It’s just that Nate’s feeling it more. Nate lets his head loll back against the bed, accepting that he’s not going to have any control of this situation and that he’s surprisingly okay with that. He rocks his hips up against Eliot, moving as much as he’s allowed and giving himself over to the sensation. Eliot moans and shivers as Nate hits a good angle and he gives Nate’s shoulders a quick squeeze.
Eliot shifts around him, steadying himself and compensating for Nate’s instinctive thrusts, knees digging into the bed. He grits his teeth, giving a harder circle of his hips and Nate’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head. He’s going to come so damn soon and Eliot’s going to probably hold it against him. God. Nate will hear about this later, he's sure. He just doesn’t fucking care.
Except that Eliot is nuzzling at Nate’s ear like an affectionate cat telling him, “Come on…. You know you want to,” and as if Nate could resist an invitation like that. He bites off a groan as he slams himself upward a few last times into Eliot’s tight heat, coming just as asked.
“Mmph!” Eliot moans, eyes sliding closed, no doubt feeling Nate pulsing inside him, and he reaches his hand down, beginning to strip his own cock with smooth, sure strokes. He’s all deep, solid breathes and twitching motion as his body starts to tense. Nate grunts as the last of his orgasm wrenches out of him and he collapses back against the bed. He shakes his head, clearing the haze so he can watch as Eliot jerks himself off, still impaled on top of Nate and looking better than a damn work of art. Eliot’s chest starts to rise more rapidly, moving erratically as his own orgasm creeps up on him, and his thumb is swiping over the head on every other stroke, making Eliot jerk minutely. Then, with a little whine and a toss of his head to the side, Eliot comes, spilling on top of Nate’s stomach, staining his skin and probably his shirt.
Nate doesn’t particularly care, though, because Eliot’s gorgeous when he’s wrecked, lost in pleasure and, frankly, Nate’s body is still overloaded with a pleasant hum. The world could end at this exact moment-Sterling could burst through the doors, even-and all Nate would be able to muster up would be a vague, “Well that’s sucks…” When Eliot regains himself enough, he stares down at Nate with eyes that are still lust-blown and then leans down to give Nate another kiss. This one’s softer than the others, less dominating and more welcoming and Nate can feel the affection in it. He kind of likes it.
Eliot sighs and pulls back up, rubbing his hands over Nate’s chest. “Glad to have you back,” he says softly and Nate has to stop his smile because Eliot missed him. Eliot missed him and that’s really nice to know. Eliot’s always been a physical kind of guy and Nate even thinks that his little 'welcome back' is nice-a little bizarre but nice.
Eliot lifts up, his face going slack as Nate slowly slides out of him. “Gonna be feelin’ that,” Eliot mutters and Nate can only hope so. He hopes Eliot’s feeling it into next week, actually. He holds himself still, though, not saying what he’s thinking, because he wants Eliot to unlock the cuffs and he wouldn’t put it past Eliot to leave him here if Nate pissed him off. Eliot flips his leg back over Nate, so that he’s kneeling beside and he rubs a hand against Nate’s chest. “That was fun,” he says and then he’s slipping off the bed and grabbing his jeans, jerking them back up around his hips and buttoning them.
Feeling quite a bit like a sleezy one night stand, Nate frowns as Eliot picks up his shirt and pulls it on over his head. “Uh…” Nate starts, unsure how to continue because he’s not quite sure how Eliot would react to anything he says. Eliot finishes pulling down his shirt and flips his hair up and out with a little swipe at the end to push it out of his eyes again. Then he’s heading for the door and, yeah, Nate’s definitely going to protest that. “Eliot? Keys?” He shakes his hands, rattling the cuffs and Eliot surprises him when he whirls on him, pointing a finger accusingly, suddenly all harsh, twisted mouth and hard eyes despite the orgasm.
“I may be glad that you’re back but that doesn’t mean that I’m not still pissed.” Then he walks out, leaving Nate chained on the bed, looking rumpled, used, and more than just a little mad.
“Hey!” Nate shouts after him. “Eliot!” He doesn’t scream too loudly because the last thing he wants is to attract someone else besides Eliot because if any of the others find him, he’s such a dead man. Especially Sophie. Oh God, Sophie. “Eliot, damn it!”
But Eliot doesn’t come back, not for a long while, and Nate attempts to figure out how to pick the cuffs without a damn lock pick. He supposes that he should just consider himself lucky that he survived Eliot's little 'welcome back party.' The thought of what the others might have planned, though, makes him shiver because Eliot's a physical kind of guy. He punches you-or he fucks you, apparently-and then he's good and you're good in his book. Nate knows that he's not going to be nearly so lucky with the likes of Sophie and Parker. Hardison he can probably deal with. Sophie and Parker though-they tend to be wild cards.
Nate rattles the cuffs again and winces in distaste at the feel of Eliot’s come drying on his bare stomach. Fuck.
And this, just like Eliot had said, is why you didn't run cons on your own team. Especially ones that you were planning on keeping around because sooner or later they'll make you regret it real fast. Even if it had been the right call.
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Nathan Ford/Eliot Spencer
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Slight spoilers for 3.01
Summary: Eliot had pretended that it was just for if the guards came to look but Nate had known better because he'd enjoyed strapping Nate down a little too much. Eliot's always been a physical kind of guy, though. Nate really should have seen this coming.
Word Count: 3285
A/N: Yay porn! ...Though like I need another damn fandom. ¬_¬
Eliot had pretended that it was just for if the guards came to look but Nate had known better. His gut had told him otherwise-just a little pit of apprehension that had called out a liar. There was something else going on because Nate was well aware that Eliot didn’t give a shit if the guards came and that Eliot had enjoyed strapping Nate down just a little too much. The cuffs hadn't been necessary, nor had they needed to be bound. Tilting the chair back, sure, but not the restraints. Then Eliot had pulled out that drill, said his little threat and Nate had known what was up.
It doesn't take a rocket science to do that little equation. Eliot's looking for a little bit of his own back. Nate had betrayed his trust and not only did Eliot not like that, but a little bit of power dynamics was just what the doctor ordered. Eliot has always been a physical kind of guy. He tends to prefer the very practical demonstrations. Nate had just given him the perfect opportunity, though he's pretty sure that Eliot could have found it anywhere. If not here then a knife point up against the wall or a twisted arm and being bent over a countertop. Eliot was a practical guy like that.
It’s all Nate's fault, anyway. He’d been just a little too good at his job. He’d taken a group of serial loners and turned them into a team with bonds closer than blood. He knows that any of them would die for the others and in a group of thieves? That's saying something. They're bound together and he's supposed to be one of them.
More than that, though, he’d fucked up. Oh, sure, he’d made the right call, but he’d still fucked up. He knows that but it still leaves Eliot, during the first time meeting him face to face since the whole snafu went down, strapping him down to a prison dental chair and threatening him with a drill-traditional and classic but with it's own little twist. Nate thinks that he should be proud. “You know what I usually do, Nate, to people that run a con on their own team?" Eliot snarls. "Almost get people killed because they’re out of control?”
He expects similar situations to happen with the rest of the group when he's finally on the outside, though probably with different contexts. They all have their own specialities, after all. “Are you okay, Eliot?”
He’d seen all of this coming from a mile away, of course. He really had. Despite being a thief and despite their previous status, the group was particularly loyal to each other so he would have had to be a moron not to expect repercussions. What he hadn’t see coming, though, was Eliot putting that menacing, clichéd little drill down and sliding a leg over Nate’s hips. Hello.
Eliot settles himself directly over top of Nate’s lap and Nate has a brief thought that maybe-just maybe-he’d been in prison a little too long. Because not only did Eliot have his attention but Nate is, uh, interested. Very.
“Do you know what I do to people that run a con on me?” Eliot rasps, his hands settling over Nate’s bound wrists, using them to brace himself as he leans forward. “Do you?” Eliot asks again, tilting his head so that feather-light hair of his flitters over his shoulder and Nate has to reassess the situation. Maybe he’d fucked up worse than he thought and, well, Eliot’s a very hands-on kind of guy.
“We don’t have time for this,” Nate says, trying to get a little bit of focus here because, hello! Prison and guard just aren’t empty words here but Eliot hisses, jerking his head to the side.
“You make time!” he snaps and Nate’s forced to agree when Eliot leans forward and kisses him. Yeah, uh, okay. Not like Nate’s going to disagree when he’s got Eliot’s tongue in his mouth.
Nate had known that Eliot was a good kisser. Somewhere in the back of his head, he’d noted that Eliot got a lot of tail without too many messy breakups and Nate had put two and two together and known that it had meant that Eliot probably had a few skills. Eliot’s good at the pull and that means a good kisser. Nate had definitely known that. However, knowing that and experiencing it are two very different things. Eliot licks along the seam of Nate’s lips, asking for permission strangely enough, and, with a groan, Nate gives it. God, yeah. Anything. Eliot rocks forward, wiggling on top of Nate and Nate surges upward, unable to stop himself.
Jeez, but Eliot feels nice up there. And there’s the understatement of the year. Sort of like saying that Katrina was a storm or that Sterling’s a little persistent.
Eliot swishes tongue in Nate’s mouth, setting up house and moving in, and it’s definitely different than kissing Sophie but that’s not a bad thing. Sophie’s sweet and accepting, just a little bit questioning-Eliot is harsh and demanding, wanting answers that Nate’s not sure he’s ready to give. Or even if he’ll ever be.
But Eliot’s here, commanding Nate’s surrender and Nate can do that at least. Just for a little while because it’s not like he has a choice with Eliot pinning him down. Nate gives it up and, this time, it’s Eliot’s turn to moan and he gives that little sinfully sweet wiggle again that has Nate starting to throb.
This is disgustingly vulgar, happening in a prison with a posted officer stationed just a few feet away but it’s sad because not only can Nate not say that he doesn’t want this but it’s not even the worst thing he’s done. So he meets Eliot with an answering swirl of tongue, moving into the kiss as much as possible because, yeah, Nate can be disgustingly vulgar, too.
He pushes Eliot back with sheer force of will and, miracles of miracles, Eliot actually goes. Except that he goes a little too far, breaking the kiss though Nate doesn’t think he was quite ready for that yet. He kind of wants Eliot to come back and do this some more and Nate should probably have a bit more focus here.
Okay, yeah. Definitely been in prison too long. Or something.
“This isn’t over,” Eliot whispers, a little rasp of a promise that makes Nate have to suppress a shiver because far be it to let Eliot know just how much he’d gotten to Nate. Then Eliot slides off and actually starts up the flashdrive, fulfilling the reason why they’re in this room and getting the ball rolling. Good.
Nate shifts uncomfortably and forces himself to pay attention to the screen.
This time it’s not a prison dental chair but Nate’s got to say that he’s doesn't find that fact the least bit comforting. It may be his own bed that Eliot’s pressing him down on but those are definitely handcuffs that Eliot’s pinning him down with and who knows where the rest of the team is. Who knows what they might be planning while he’s not watching?
But Eliot’s hands are covering his wrists again-pinned over his head this time-and Eliot’s hips are back with that little wiggle and lovely friction. Nate takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, to not get too excited.
...It’s just really fucking hard when he’s got a guy like Eliot on top of him and Eliot’s tight little ass grinding down on him, making all sorts of dangerous promises. Nate closes his eyes and tries to focus. Bangs his head back against the pillow and tries again. “Got time now, don’t we?” Eliot says and bends his head to nip underneath Nate’s jaw.
Right. Yes, they do. “Where, uh,” Nate clears his throat, “Where is everybody?”
Eliot moves back up to stare Nate down, his face impassive and giving away nothing. “Waiting their turn,” he states and that does not make Nate feel any better. Eliot’s little wiggle, though…that does. Nate sighs, chokes back a moan, and lifts up against Eliot.
Eliot grins. “Like that?” he drawls, repeating the motion and oh yes. Nate likes that. He’d liked that the first time and his opinion has yet to change.
Nate knows that Eliot’s got a bit of thing with Hardison and Parker and he doesn’t let it bother him because, well, Eliot’s a physical kind of guy. Always has been and the bizarre little arrangement that the three have worked out works for him. It works for all of them except for maybe Hardison but Hardison’s not about to turn down the likes of Parker and Eliot.
Hell, Nate’s not about to turn down the likes of Eliot. Especially considering just how damn rare it is. Eliot twists downward again and God. Nate’s just one step short of demanding that Eliot get on with it already. Nate’s not quite sure what Eliot’s got on his mind-not yet anyway-but he does think that he’s going to die if they don't speed this up just a little.
This is worse than getting shot. Worse because he knows that Eliot’s got the patience to make this last for hours. And it looks like he’s in the mood to play.
Eliot moves, but it’s just long enough to take off his jeans and then he’s back and Nate groans because Eliot is buck naked on top of him and that's a sight that just shouldn’t be legal. Eliot’s all smooth lines and hard muscle and he’s still twisting against Nate who’s straining in his pants. Nate can see all the way down Eliot’s chest to his lean hips, past that little bit of hair that leads down to the hard cock that’s now resting solidly against Nate. Eliot bends down to mouth at Nate’s jaw line again, soft lips catching at his skin with just a hint of teeth and little licks of his tongue, and Nate briefly considers begging. Only briefly because he knows that Eliot would only mock him for the display of weakness and make this last even longer.
And Nate would be damned if he’d give up that much, either.
Then Eliot’s moving back up to Nate’s mouth, tongue unfurling inside as he licks around and Nate meets him eagerly, completely giving the game away. He’s broadcasting his desperation loud and clear with each demanding thrust of his tongue and Eliot would have to be a lot stupider than what he is in order not to be able to read it. In Nate’s defense, however, it’s awfully damn hard to think when all of his blood is pooling in his groin.
“Yeah,” Eliot says, giving Nate another quick peck of a kiss. “Yeah. Just like that.” He screws down again and Nate’s got to agree. Yes. Just like that. Eliot finally moves his hands from Nate’s wrists, skimming them down his arms and moving to his throat to hold his head as they kiss some more.
Nate upgrades his estimate of Eliot’s skills of being merely “good” to “phenomenal.” Wow. Nate’s pretty sure that his toes are curling.
“Overdressed,” Eliot murmurs and he’s moving again, this time unbuttoning Nate’s shirt and pushing it out of his way. Eliot’s clever, clever fingers skate down Nate’s chest, rubbing teasing circles as he slowly-so fucking slowly-makes his way down and Nate has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the begging regardless of its known effects.
Somehow, Nate manages to hold it together until Eliot reaches his belt and finally undoes it. Nate jerks upward, unable to stop himself, breathing hard, and Eliot chuckles. “Easy there,” he whispers and fuck. It’s like Nate doesn’t have control over his own body. He jerks again.
Eliot pushes Nate’s pants down, gently sliding them over his hips and Nate groans. He doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t want this, lifting his hips and openly helping Eliot strip him naked. He needs to get on with this and, you know, for once, damn the consequences.
Pulling the clothes off and tossing them to the side, Eliot slides back up and he’s not just doing his little wiggle anymore-he’s moved it up to a constant rocking that has a painfully familiar rhythm. Nate bites down harder, trying so hard not to lose it. It’s been too damn long and he really doesn’t care what Eliot has planned at this point just as long as it leads to a satisfactory end.
“Gonna really like this,” Eliot purrs and then there’s a hand slicking up Nate’s cock with lube right before Eliot starts working himself down, tight and hot and sweet. Nate throws dignity out of the window and gives into the need to pant. Fuck but that’s good. He wants to chew Eliot out about the lack of condom but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. Can’t find it in himself to care about anything, actually, besides that wonderfully tight burn. God.
Nate’s own hand could never feel this damn good.
“Yeah,” Eliot says, his hands resting on Nate’s chest, sliding up under his unbuttoned shirt and onto his shoulders to brace against. Eliot starts to move, riding Nate with a smooth rhythm, skin to skin, and Nate’s starting to tremble despite himself. “Just like that…” Eliot’s voice has gotten impossibly raspier, breath hissing, and it’s damn good to know that he’s feeling this too.
It’s just that Nate’s feeling it more. Nate lets his head loll back against the bed, accepting that he’s not going to have any control of this situation and that he’s surprisingly okay with that. He rocks his hips up against Eliot, moving as much as he’s allowed and giving himself over to the sensation. Eliot moans and shivers as Nate hits a good angle and he gives Nate’s shoulders a quick squeeze.
Eliot shifts around him, steadying himself and compensating for Nate’s instinctive thrusts, knees digging into the bed. He grits his teeth, giving a harder circle of his hips and Nate’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head. He’s going to come so damn soon and Eliot’s going to probably hold it against him. God. Nate will hear about this later, he's sure. He just doesn’t fucking care.
Except that Eliot is nuzzling at Nate’s ear like an affectionate cat telling him, “Come on…. You know you want to,” and as if Nate could resist an invitation like that. He bites off a groan as he slams himself upward a few last times into Eliot’s tight heat, coming just as asked.
“Mmph!” Eliot moans, eyes sliding closed, no doubt feeling Nate pulsing inside him, and he reaches his hand down, beginning to strip his own cock with smooth, sure strokes. He’s all deep, solid breathes and twitching motion as his body starts to tense. Nate grunts as the last of his orgasm wrenches out of him and he collapses back against the bed. He shakes his head, clearing the haze so he can watch as Eliot jerks himself off, still impaled on top of Nate and looking better than a damn work of art. Eliot’s chest starts to rise more rapidly, moving erratically as his own orgasm creeps up on him, and his thumb is swiping over the head on every other stroke, making Eliot jerk minutely. Then, with a little whine and a toss of his head to the side, Eliot comes, spilling on top of Nate’s stomach, staining his skin and probably his shirt.
Nate doesn’t particularly care, though, because Eliot’s gorgeous when he’s wrecked, lost in pleasure and, frankly, Nate’s body is still overloaded with a pleasant hum. The world could end at this exact moment-Sterling could burst through the doors, even-and all Nate would be able to muster up would be a vague, “Well that’s sucks…” When Eliot regains himself enough, he stares down at Nate with eyes that are still lust-blown and then leans down to give Nate another kiss. This one’s softer than the others, less dominating and more welcoming and Nate can feel the affection in it. He kind of likes it.
Eliot sighs and pulls back up, rubbing his hands over Nate’s chest. “Glad to have you back,” he says softly and Nate has to stop his smile because Eliot missed him. Eliot missed him and that’s really nice to know. Eliot’s always been a physical kind of guy and Nate even thinks that his little 'welcome back' is nice-a little bizarre but nice.
Eliot lifts up, his face going slack as Nate slowly slides out of him. “Gonna be feelin’ that,” Eliot mutters and Nate can only hope so. He hopes Eliot’s feeling it into next week, actually. He holds himself still, though, not saying what he’s thinking, because he wants Eliot to unlock the cuffs and he wouldn’t put it past Eliot to leave him here if Nate pissed him off. Eliot flips his leg back over Nate, so that he’s kneeling beside and he rubs a hand against Nate’s chest. “That was fun,” he says and then he’s slipping off the bed and grabbing his jeans, jerking them back up around his hips and buttoning them.
Feeling quite a bit like a sleezy one night stand, Nate frowns as Eliot picks up his shirt and pulls it on over his head. “Uh…” Nate starts, unsure how to continue because he’s not quite sure how Eliot would react to anything he says. Eliot finishes pulling down his shirt and flips his hair up and out with a little swipe at the end to push it out of his eyes again. Then he’s heading for the door and, yeah, Nate’s definitely going to protest that. “Eliot? Keys?” He shakes his hands, rattling the cuffs and Eliot surprises him when he whirls on him, pointing a finger accusingly, suddenly all harsh, twisted mouth and hard eyes despite the orgasm.
“I may be glad that you’re back but that doesn’t mean that I’m not still pissed.” Then he walks out, leaving Nate chained on the bed, looking rumpled, used, and more than just a little mad.
“Hey!” Nate shouts after him. “Eliot!” He doesn’t scream too loudly because the last thing he wants is to attract someone else besides Eliot because if any of the others find him, he’s such a dead man. Especially Sophie. Oh God, Sophie. “Eliot, damn it!”
But Eliot doesn’t come back, not for a long while, and Nate attempts to figure out how to pick the cuffs without a damn lock pick. He supposes that he should just consider himself lucky that he survived Eliot's little 'welcome back party.' The thought of what the others might have planned, though, makes him shiver because Eliot's a physical kind of guy. He punches you-or he fucks you, apparently-and then he's good and you're good in his book. Nate knows that he's not going to be nearly so lucky with the likes of Sophie and Parker. Hardison he can probably deal with. Sophie and Parker though-they tend to be wild cards.
Nate rattles the cuffs again and winces in distaste at the feel of Eliot’s come drying on his bare stomach. Fuck.
And this, just like Eliot had said, is why you didn't run cons on your own team. Especially ones that you were planning on keeping around because sooner or later they'll make you regret it real fast. Even if it had been the right call.