fic: Leverage: If He Was Like Brad Pitt
Title: If He Was Like Brad Pitt
Author: Havenward
Series: Leverage
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison
Rating: NC17
Words: 1072
A/N: The original prompt from medjai_trowa was “Leverage, Hardison/Eliot, If You Were Gay Avenue Q”. The first part of this is a response to that (the version in comment_fic is only R). The second part is because shannonrita said I couldn't have Valentine's fic unless I wrote it. (Evil enabler. I'm used to this going in the other direction...) Comments and con-crit are love.
Note the second: I see this working really well shortly after 1.10, especially with that one particular scene, so spoilers through 12 Step Job. Oh, and I totally stole the title from the dialog. What? It was a stroke of brilliance...
Summary: Hardison puts his foot in his mouth and wants to apologize.
"I didn't mean it like that," Hardison says quickly, trying to backpedal fast.
"Whatever," Eliot growls. He's already pushing up away from the conference table, agitated enough to leave his open beer where it is instead of taking it with him. Nate raises an eyebrow at him, then glances between him and Alec before turning his attention wholly to the game playing across four screens.
Which means Hardison is on his own.
He scrambles out of his seat and into the hall, nearly slamming into Eliot's back because he hasn't gone as far as he thought he had. "Shit! Eliot, I...uh..."
"The fuck is it, Hardison?"
Alec flinches. "I'm sorry... I mean, I don't care." Eliot raises an eyebrow and looks as though he's seriously considering hitting him. "I mean, I don't mind gay guys, as in, uh, I don't not like them. No, I mean, I don't give a damn if you're gay." Eliot's giving him a look he can't read, and his jaw twitches a little. "I didn't mean it like that," he says quietly. Hardison's starting to think maybe he should just let Eliot beat the shit out of him and get it over with.
"Then what do you mean?" Eliot says, and somehow he's gotten closer without Alec noticing. Intense blue eyes hold his and really, he wishes he was little more than pulp. And he might be soon, now that Eliot's backed him into the wall.
"I didn't mean to piss you off or... or hurt you or whatever cuz I don't mind if you sleep with guys instead of girls. Long as your happy, man, cuz you're always angry and shit. I mean, it wouldn't change anything about being a team or friends cuz it doesn't weird me out or nothin'..." Eliot hasn't stopped getting closer. In fact, he's got Alec pinned to the wall, palms flat against the space on either side of his head. And that look? Hardison knows that look. "I...I'm not... I'm not gay."
Eliot chuckles, low and throaty. He leans in closer so that there's barely room for the Holy Spirit, as his Nana would say. Warm breath tickles Hardison's throat when he tips his head, eying Alec's lips. "Then why're you so hard, son?"
But he doesn't wait for an answer, and suddenly there's no distance between them at all.
Eliot is a solid line of heat against him, and it sinks through his clothes, through his skin straight to his bones. He is hard, harder than the first time one of his girlfriends dressed up in Princess Leia's slave bikini for his birthday, and he can't help the way his hips lift to press forward into that warmth. They're nose to nose, so when Eliot smiles Alec can't really see it, just the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. But he feels it against his lips, that feather light touch of just being there and smiling and not doing anything else.
“If you don' want this,” Eliot says quietly, “all y'gotta do is say so. No harm, no foul.” He's watching Hardison carefully, watching the expression on his face, and Alec realizes that he's feeling him too. He wouldn't even have to say a word before Eliot would be off of him and gone.
He surprises himself by being disappointed at the thought. Opens his mouth to say... something. Anything, really, but he doesn't know what. Before he can so much as draw a breath, though, Eliot kisses him.
It's slow, careful, like he's still waiting for Alec to freak out or shove him away. It's not like kissing a girl, though it's not all that different. Eliot's lips are full and soft, and the contrast with his stubble is distracting. Thankfully instinct kicks in and he kisses back, his hands tentatively reaching up to rest on Eliot's hips. This earns him a satisfied noise that seems to rumble through the both of them and into the floor, and Hardison's hips hitch up again.
Alec probably shouldn't be surprised by the fact that Eliot is hard, but it's Eliot's hard on grinding against his own and it startles a gasp out of him. Eliot takes the opportunity to claim his mouth, biting at his lower lip before licking his way inside. Alec can taste the beer he was drinking, and under that a hint of whiskey. He marvels at the way it fades away til all he can taste is Eliot. His hands tighten subconsciously on his hips so Eliot presses closer against him, one hand curling around the back of his head. The other drags down Hardison's chest to the top of his jeans.
“You're sure,” Eliot says. His voice is all gravel and confidence, like he knows already how badly Hardison wants it. How the sound of his voice goes straight to his cock. Alec nods, just barely. Eliot thumbs open his jeans, and when he slides his hand down velvet smooth skin and soft hair to grasp him, Alec's head falls back against the wall.
Hardison bites his lip, tries to focus on the pain of it because damn, he's close. But Eliot's good, he's better than good, and it's all Alec can do to keep his panting moans from echoing up and down the hallway. His hips rock into Eliot's hand, thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm, and his fingers dig hard into Eliot's skin. The man is saying something as he nips and kisses at the curve of his jaw, at that soft spot just below his ear, something gentle and coaxing and obscene, but he can't hear the words. Alec just feels them against his neck, rumbling chest to chest, hip to hip.
A calloused thumb across his slit brought his attention back around. “Just let go... wanna see you come undone for me...” Another pull, two, and his thumb against his head again, and Hardison does just that with a strangled cry he can't think to hold back. His vision dips out, sparking along the edges as Eliot strokes him through the aftershocks. He comes back to himself just in time to watch him lick his hand clean.
And hell if he ain't trying to be ready to go again. Eliot just smirks and pulls him away from the wall.
“C'mon. Lemme show you what else Denzel won't do...”
Author: Havenward
Series: Leverage
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison
Rating: NC17
Words: 1072
A/N: The original prompt from medjai_trowa was “Leverage, Hardison/Eliot, If You Were Gay Avenue Q”. The first part of this is a response to that (the version in comment_fic is only R). The second part is because shannonrita said I couldn't have Valentine's fic unless I wrote it. (Evil enabler. I'm used to this going in the other direction...) Comments and con-crit are love.
Note the second: I see this working really well shortly after 1.10, especially with that one particular scene, so spoilers through 12 Step Job. Oh, and I totally stole the title from the dialog. What? It was a stroke of brilliance...
Summary: Hardison puts his foot in his mouth and wants to apologize.
"I didn't mean it like that," Hardison says quickly, trying to backpedal fast.
"Whatever," Eliot growls. He's already pushing up away from the conference table, agitated enough to leave his open beer where it is instead of taking it with him. Nate raises an eyebrow at him, then glances between him and Alec before turning his attention wholly to the game playing across four screens.
Which means Hardison is on his own.
He scrambles out of his seat and into the hall, nearly slamming into Eliot's back because he hasn't gone as far as he thought he had. "Shit! Eliot, I...uh..."
"The fuck is it, Hardison?"
Alec flinches. "I'm sorry... I mean, I don't care." Eliot raises an eyebrow and looks as though he's seriously considering hitting him. "I mean, I don't mind gay guys, as in, uh, I don't not like them. No, I mean, I don't give a damn if you're gay." Eliot's giving him a look he can't read, and his jaw twitches a little. "I didn't mean it like that," he says quietly. Hardison's starting to think maybe he should just let Eliot beat the shit out of him and get it over with.
"Then what do you mean?" Eliot says, and somehow he's gotten closer without Alec noticing. Intense blue eyes hold his and really, he wishes he was little more than pulp. And he might be soon, now that Eliot's backed him into the wall.
"I didn't mean to piss you off or... or hurt you or whatever cuz I don't mind if you sleep with guys instead of girls. Long as your happy, man, cuz you're always angry and shit. I mean, it wouldn't change anything about being a team or friends cuz it doesn't weird me out or nothin'..." Eliot hasn't stopped getting closer. In fact, he's got Alec pinned to the wall, palms flat against the space on either side of his head. And that look? Hardison knows that look. "I...I'm not... I'm not gay."
Eliot chuckles, low and throaty. He leans in closer so that there's barely room for the Holy Spirit, as his Nana would say. Warm breath tickles Hardison's throat when he tips his head, eying Alec's lips. "Then why're you so hard, son?"
But he doesn't wait for an answer, and suddenly there's no distance between them at all.
Eliot is a solid line of heat against him, and it sinks through his clothes, through his skin straight to his bones. He is hard, harder than the first time one of his girlfriends dressed up in Princess Leia's slave bikini for his birthday, and he can't help the way his hips lift to press forward into that warmth. They're nose to nose, so when Eliot smiles Alec can't really see it, just the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. But he feels it against his lips, that feather light touch of just being there and smiling and not doing anything else.
“If you don' want this,” Eliot says quietly, “all y'gotta do is say so. No harm, no foul.” He's watching Hardison carefully, watching the expression on his face, and Alec realizes that he's feeling him too. He wouldn't even have to say a word before Eliot would be off of him and gone.
He surprises himself by being disappointed at the thought. Opens his mouth to say... something. Anything, really, but he doesn't know what. Before he can so much as draw a breath, though, Eliot kisses him.
It's slow, careful, like he's still waiting for Alec to freak out or shove him away. It's not like kissing a girl, though it's not all that different. Eliot's lips are full and soft, and the contrast with his stubble is distracting. Thankfully instinct kicks in and he kisses back, his hands tentatively reaching up to rest on Eliot's hips. This earns him a satisfied noise that seems to rumble through the both of them and into the floor, and Hardison's hips hitch up again.
Alec probably shouldn't be surprised by the fact that Eliot is hard, but it's Eliot's hard on grinding against his own and it startles a gasp out of him. Eliot takes the opportunity to claim his mouth, biting at his lower lip before licking his way inside. Alec can taste the beer he was drinking, and under that a hint of whiskey. He marvels at the way it fades away til all he can taste is Eliot. His hands tighten subconsciously on his hips so Eliot presses closer against him, one hand curling around the back of his head. The other drags down Hardison's chest to the top of his jeans.
“You're sure,” Eliot says. His voice is all gravel and confidence, like he knows already how badly Hardison wants it. How the sound of his voice goes straight to his cock. Alec nods, just barely. Eliot thumbs open his jeans, and when he slides his hand down velvet smooth skin and soft hair to grasp him, Alec's head falls back against the wall.
Hardison bites his lip, tries to focus on the pain of it because damn, he's close. But Eliot's good, he's better than good, and it's all Alec can do to keep his panting moans from echoing up and down the hallway. His hips rock into Eliot's hand, thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm, and his fingers dig hard into Eliot's skin. The man is saying something as he nips and kisses at the curve of his jaw, at that soft spot just below his ear, something gentle and coaxing and obscene, but he can't hear the words. Alec just feels them against his neck, rumbling chest to chest, hip to hip.
A calloused thumb across his slit brought his attention back around. “Just let go... wanna see you come undone for me...” Another pull, two, and his thumb against his head again, and Hardison does just that with a strangled cry he can't think to hold back. His vision dips out, sparking along the edges as Eliot strokes him through the aftershocks. He comes back to himself just in time to watch him lick his hand clean.
And hell if he ain't trying to be ready to go again. Eliot just smirks and pulls him away from the wall.
“C'mon. Lemme show you what else Denzel won't do...”