Mini Nanowrimo #4,6,7 (With Those Hands, 613 words total)
Prompt: n/a
Title: With Those Hands
Series: Leverage (airs Dec 7)
Words: 613 total (85, 368, 160 per day)
Rating: NC17
Note: Follows Not What I Expected, because canadiangoddess asked nicely, and I couldn't exactly leave the last chapter where it was... Alec POV.
Alec should have known that someone as untouchable as Eliot would be able to defy the laws of physics and biology using just his hands. He has no idea what happened to their shirts, except that now Eliot is mouthing along his collarbone with one hand working at his jeans and the other on his back learning the expanse of skin by feel alone. Alec had expected something rougher, more animalistic. He can feel the potential for it humming under Eliot's skin, in the way his breath hitches as Alec's fingers trace feather light at the nape of his neck and the small of his back. In the noise he makes when they shift their weight and Alec finds a way to grind into him. (And yeah, Alec could totally handle hearing that again.)
It isn't that Eliot's holding back. Alec's seen that before too when he fights, the moment when he pulls a punch or changes direction, the times when he could have killed and didn't. That's a matter of tactics and timing and ethics.
This isn't that. This Eliot wants, slow and needy and gentle. He presses him into the wall, tangling their lips together with the barest hint of teeth. A pleased smile crinkles the corner of his eyes as Alec's pants and boxers fall away, curls up the corners of his mouth when Alec's head falls back so he can gasp and moan when Eliot finally touches him. Alec tries to do the same, to tug Eliot's belt out of the way and find out what other noises he'll make, but each stroke and twist of the wrist, each time he runs his thumb just there along the tip, leaves him thrusting helplessly into his hand.
Saying that Eliot Spencer is good with his hands is... Is...
"Jesus," Alec says, because really, he's got better things to focus on than metaphors. Like the way Eliot has decided to pin Alec's hips to the wall with his own, riding against his thigh in time with the motion of his hand. Alec can feel how hard he is, pressing tight through his jeans. "Fuck," he groans. Digs his fingers into his shoulders because he can't manage anything else.
"Not just now, darlin'," Eliot murmurs as he traces the curve of his neck with lips and tongue. He pauses to suck a little at his pulse point. "Maybe later." His voice is husky with want that has Alec bucking his hips hard. "If you're good." He traces back up his throat and nips gently on his earlobe. When he speaks again it's all gravel. "Touch me."
Alec doesn't need to be told twice, even if he manages to feel as clumsy as a teenager. Hasn't felt this good since -- god -- since ever, and his hands are shaking as he works the belt and then the fly. He can't have lost his touch, though, if the way Eliot's hand temporarily stutters is any indication. Eliot kisses him, long lingering kisses even as their breathing turns ragged. Even when Alec whines low in his throat, begging.
His world goes white as he comes undone, and he's pretty sure the heavy groan and Eliot's weight against him means the other man wasn't far behind. For a moment they stay that way, just breathing as they lean against the wall still tangled together. Eliot pushes back first half pulling, half supporting Alec as he leads him back into his own apartment. "Bed," is all he says, and Alec's pretty okay with that.
Title: With Those Hands
Series: Leverage (airs Dec 7)
Words: 613 total (85, 368, 160 per day)
Rating: NC17
Note: Follows Not What I Expected, because canadiangoddess asked nicely, and I couldn't exactly leave the last chapter where it was... Alec POV.
Alec should have known that someone as untouchable as Eliot would be able to defy the laws of physics and biology using just his hands. He has no idea what happened to their shirts, except that now Eliot is mouthing along his collarbone with one hand working at his jeans and the other on his back learning the expanse of skin by feel alone. Alec had expected something rougher, more animalistic. He can feel the potential for it humming under Eliot's skin, in the way his breath hitches as Alec's fingers trace feather light at the nape of his neck and the small of his back. In the noise he makes when they shift their weight and Alec finds a way to grind into him. (And yeah, Alec could totally handle hearing that again.)
It isn't that Eliot's holding back. Alec's seen that before too when he fights, the moment when he pulls a punch or changes direction, the times when he could have killed and didn't. That's a matter of tactics and timing and ethics.
This isn't that. This Eliot wants, slow and needy and gentle. He presses him into the wall, tangling their lips together with the barest hint of teeth. A pleased smile crinkles the corner of his eyes as Alec's pants and boxers fall away, curls up the corners of his mouth when Alec's head falls back so he can gasp and moan when Eliot finally touches him. Alec tries to do the same, to tug Eliot's belt out of the way and find out what other noises he'll make, but each stroke and twist of the wrist, each time he runs his thumb just there along the tip, leaves him thrusting helplessly into his hand.
Saying that Eliot Spencer is good with his hands is... Is...
"Jesus," Alec says, because really, he's got better things to focus on than metaphors. Like the way Eliot has decided to pin Alec's hips to the wall with his own, riding against his thigh in time with the motion of his hand. Alec can feel how hard he is, pressing tight through his jeans. "Fuck," he groans. Digs his fingers into his shoulders because he can't manage anything else.
"Not just now, darlin'," Eliot murmurs as he traces the curve of his neck with lips and tongue. He pauses to suck a little at his pulse point. "Maybe later." His voice is husky with want that has Alec bucking his hips hard. "If you're good." He traces back up his throat and nips gently on his earlobe. When he speaks again it's all gravel. "Touch me."
Alec doesn't need to be told twice, even if he manages to feel as clumsy as a teenager. Hasn't felt this good since -- god -- since ever, and his hands are shaking as he works the belt and then the fly. He can't have lost his touch, though, if the way Eliot's hand temporarily stutters is any indication. Eliot kisses him, long lingering kisses even as their breathing turns ragged. Even when Alec whines low in his throat, begging.
His world goes white as he comes undone, and he's pretty sure the heavy groan and Eliot's weight against him means the other man wasn't far behind. For a moment they stay that way, just breathing as they lean against the wall still tangled together. Eliot pushes back first half pulling, half supporting Alec as he leads him back into his own apartment. "Bed," is all he says, and Alec's pretty okay with that.