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Entry tags:
Close the Door, Pull the Shades, Part Eight -- Leverage, NC-17
Fandom: Leverage
Title: Close the Door, Pull the Shades - Part Eight (Story Index)
Pairing/Characters: Nate/Eliot, Nate/Sophie, Hardison, Parker
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4241
Summary: Nate and his team continue searching for Eliot, who is suffering at the hands of his captor. Nate and Sophie "talk".
A/Ns & Warnings: This is, as is becoming usual,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
havenward's fault. Although it started with merry_gentry's first vampire!Nate prompt on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic. thus, this is a vampire!Nate fic. As such, this will include biting and some blood play. It will be a rather dom!Nate in places, but certainly not a sub!Eliot in the traditional sense. Apparently this fic has taken over my brain. I've written close to 30000 words since I started on this. That number includes tidbits that were posted to comment_fic but have not yet made it into the bigger story.
He's too late. He knows it in an instant and it stops him. He falters, his knees wobbling. Eliot's gone. He can feel the cold, feel the way his body betrays him, the dark covers him and Nate knows Marquez has drank him down, far enough that Eliot can't feel anything.
Nate stumbles a little, pulling himself out of the vague light of the overcast day and into the shadows of a rundown building to get his bearings. He needs to focus, but his body is fighting him, his hunger doubled now that he knows what he wants most is out of his reach.
He isn't far from the pickup spot, and judging from the picture his people were hurt. Nate steps back out to the street, hails a taxi and gives the driver the address.
The rain is just starting as they pull to a stop and Nate's stomach lurches when he sees them. Sophie seems to be the most functional, leaning against the fence, her arms around Hardison who looks like he shouldn't even be standing. Parker stirs first though and together she and Sophie steer Hardison to the cab. Nate moves into the front seat.
"Nearest hospital, please." Nate says softly to the driver, looking over the seat at Sophie. The whole car is quiet as they drive and when they stop, Nate sends Parker for a wheelchair while he pays the driver and helps Sophie get Hardison out of the car and into the chair.
There's a mean knot on his head, but Nate can't see any other signs of trauma, though he assumes they're there. "Do you know what happened to him?" Nate asks Sophie as softly as he can, but Hardison still stiffens.
"He hasn't said a word since they put us together."
Nate nods and settles a hand on his shoulder, squatting beside him. "I need to know, Alec…so the doctor's can take care of you."
He blinks, tries to look at Nate, then looks away. Parker's hand on his pulls Nate's attention. He stands and lets her pull him away. "Torture. Electric shock at least, maybe more." She blinks and clears her throat. "Saw that much before they caught me."
"Okay, let's get him inside." He lets Sophie push the chair and talk to the admitting nurse. He's shaking when they finally come and take Hardison back to examine him.
"You okay?" Sophie asks as she joins him and Parker near a row of plastic chairs.
He shakes his head, because he's so far from okay, he doesn't know where to start. He wants a drink. Check that, needs one, because he can hear the blood pumping through the two women and it's making him crazy with hunger.
"Eliot…" he starts, but he doesn't really know what to say. His knees quiver and he sits hard and covers his face with his hands. They don't press him and together they sit in silence and wait for the doctor.
When she finally emerges and approaches, Nate stands, one hand on Parker's shoulder for balance. "Mrs. Hardison?" Her eyes dart between Parker and Sophie until Parker lifts her hand uncomfortably. "Your husband is going to be okay. He's got a pretty severe concussion and he seems to have lost a lot of blood, though we didn't find any wound to attribute that to."
Nate closes his eyes at the thought of Marquez feeding from Hardison. When he found the fucker, Nate was going to rip his cock off and split open his major arteries and leave him in the goddamn sun to shrivel up and die.
"We're re-hydrating him and getting some blood into him. He'll need to stay here at least tonight so we can keep an eye on the head injury."
"Can we see him?"
The doctor's smile is soft as she nods. "Of course. We're just getting him settled into a room."
Nate follows along behind the women, not really paying any attention to where they are until they're in the room. There's a bag of blood hanging off Hardison's IV stand and Nate has to look away. He hasn't had this much trouble controlling himself in a long, long time.
"Nate?" Parker's hand is on his and he pulls away. "Okay, that's it. Get out of here and deal with it. We'll keep an eye on him."
He wants to argue, but if he stays in the room any longer, he's going to do something he'll regret. He pulls the gun from his jacket pocket and presses it into her hand. "Protect yourselves. I'll be back."
He stumbles out of the hospital into dark that descended while they were inside. It doesn't take him long to find a pub and in moments, he's dropping his second empty glass on the bar. With the alcohol to dull the edges, he can focus a little more. He still needs to feed…but it isn't so pressing a need as it had been. He can function.
Nate drops money on the bar and stands, his eyes scanning the room. It's early evening and the pub is largely empty. If they were home, he'd only need to go to his fridge to feed…but then if they were home, he'd maybe still have Eliot.
He shakes his head and pushes out of the pub, heading back to the hospital. Maybe he can get Parker to steal him some blood. He's almost to the hospital when he hears a yell and turns to find some guy running toward him with a purse and a woman half heartedly chasing after him.
Nate grabs the thief, dragging him into a dark alley. "You picked the wrong day to be an asshole." Before he can stop himself, Nate drains him, grabbing the purse and dropping the thief into the deep shadows behind a pile of trash. He wipes his face and emerges from the alley, handing the woman back her purse.
She's dumbfounded, stuttering through "thank you" and other things that Nate shakes off as he walks away. He pushes the guilt away. He doesn't have time for guilt. He has to find Eliot. Before Marquez figures out how to break him.
The dark recedes slowly, doesn't completely go away, even as he lifts his head and opens his eyes. The room undulates around him, making him wonder if he's been drugged. He blinks and tries to force his eyes to focus, but he gives that up when his head starts pounding.
Instead he closes his eyes and tries to figure out how fucked he is.
It's obvious he's naked, but he'd sort of expected that. Of greater concern is the level of restraint involved. He can't move his arms or his legs, even his fingers. His head has a small amount of room to move.
He tries opening his eyes again, but the room is still moving. His stomach is sick, like he's had too much to drink. He breathes slowly, calls on years of training to rein in the fear and the panic that comes with the restraint.
He starts with his hands, concentrating on feeling the strength of the restraints. His hands are behind his back, and from what he can tell, his fingers are interlaced, matching fingers from opposite hands lashed together, palms pressed together and there's leather around the knuckles and more around his wrists. There's something between his elbows, lashed to his arms, holding them firmly.
There's a collar around his neck, thick and holding his head up, keeping him from much more than turning his head to either side. He breathes in deep, licks his lips and forces himself to stay calm. There's a strap coming off the collar, down his spine. It travels the length of his back, narrowing as it reaches his ass.
Eliot can feel the plug inside him, connected to the strap, connected to another strap that moves under him. His cock and balls are held tight. He swallows and forces himself to continue his analysis.
He's laying on his side on a cold floor. There's a bar between his legs, just above the knees, leather cuffs holding it in place, keeping his knees apart. There's another between his ankles, making it so he cannot begin to move his legs. In fact, it's pretty clear that trussed up like this he's about as helpless as a grown man can be.
Helpless isn't something Eliot is used to being. He tests each bond slowly and carefully, then a little less carefully. He succumbs to the panic for a minute and thrashes, ending up on his stomach, feet in the air before he gets himself under control again.
A door opens and Eliot turns his head in an effort to see. There's a low chuckle, then hands lifting him, setting him on his knees. "Rough night?"
Marquez squats in front of him, pushing hair out of Eliot's face. "Your reputation precedes you, so I figured that for the first little while, we'd keep you safely put away. Be a good boy and play nice and maybe I'll consider loosening up a little." His hand slid down Eliot's face to the collar. "This though…its very pretty. I think we'll keep it."
"Nate is going to kill--" Marquez backhands him hard, splitting Eliot's lip.
"I've told you before. Slaves don't speak." Marquez licks the blood from his hand and smiles coldly. "I'm not like your former master, Slave. You will be silent and you will be obedient or you will be dead."
"I ain't your slave--" Again with the hand, knuckles slamming into Eliot's cheekbone.
"I can see you need to be taught lessons the hard way." Marquez holds out his hand and one of his men puts something in his hand. "Lucky for you, that means I'm intrigued. I always did like a challenge."
His strong hand pulls Eliot's chin, opening his mouth and shoving something hard inside. It fills his mouth, presses against his gag reflex. Before Eliot can spit it out, Marquez is strapping it on, pulling the strap tight behind Eliot's head.
"That should keep you quiet for a while." Marquez stands and stares down at him. "I have some business to attend to. We'll have a little fun when I return."
Nate's half way through a very expensive bottle of scotch when Parker and Sophie help Hardison into the suite. He still hasn't said a word to Nate, barely anything to Parker. Nate puts his glass down and moves to the couch where Sophie settles Hardison.
Alec's eyes lift to his, but then away. Nate touches his head and leans in, smelling deeply. He can still smell Marquez all over him, but he didn't feed on the hacker. Nate frowns and lifts his arm, his thumb caressing over Hardison's elbow. "He bled you."
Nate releases him and paces away, back to his glass. He drains it and reaches for the bottle, but Sophie's hand stops him. "Do you think you need more?"
"That depends, do you want to have all of your blood in the morning?" Nate closes his eyes when she cringes. "Just…it helps, okay?"
She doesn't respond, but leaves him to the booze.
Nate sips at the drink and watches Hardison for a moment. It was clear to him now what had happened. Marquez had bled Hardison, weakened him without all the emotional attachment of feeding directly from him. Probably saved the blood for a rainy day. It wasn't a whole lot different than getting it from blood banks…except for the involuntary part of it.
Then the bastard had tormented Hardison, tortured him into telling Marquez anything and everything. "I'd like a moment alone with Hardison, ladies."
"I don't think--" Sophie stops when she sees his face, gathering Parker with a nod of her head in the direction of the door. When it's closed, Nate crosses to Hardison, sitting on the coffee table and sighing softly. "I know you probably feel like crap right now. I know, believe me. But we need you, Alec." Nate lifts the glass between them. "I want you to drink this and take a deep breath. Then you can tell me whatever it is you need to tell me and we can put it behind us and find a way to save Eliot. Okay?"
Hardison takes the drink and stares at it for a minute before sipping it and swallowing. "You'll hate me," he says after a long silence. "Kill me maybe…I…didn't want to." His eyes lift, tears gathering in the corner. "You gotta believe me, I tried to…be like Eliot…strong…but you know I'm not…I'm just a hacker…just a…" His voice trails off and he lifts the glass again. "I won't blame you if you do…kill me I mean."
"Hardison, I'm not going to kill you." Nate says as gently as he can. "Just tell me."
"He…I don't know how he found me. But he…they beat me up pretty good, grabbed me, stuffed me in a van…they…stuck a needle in my arm and I almost passed out…then came the jumper cables…when they started asking questions I didn't even know where I was."
Nate nods, closing his eyes and figuring the rest. Hardison probably told them where to find Nate and Eliot, what aliases they were using, maybe more. "It's okay, Alec. It isn't your fault."
"Like hell." He stands, draining off the last of the alcohol in the glass and shoving it back at Nate. "Eliot would never have…not that easily. He would have kept his mouth shut. He would have taken the pain and not given up his friends."
"We all have a breaking point, Alec." Nate says, standing and following him to the window. "And Marquez knows how to read people, figures out exactly what each person can take. Trust me when I tell you that if we don't find Eliot, Marquez will break him."
His skin is slicked with sweat and breathing around the gag is becoming difficult. His jaw hurts, his shoulders pulse with agonizing pain. Each blow makes them hurt that much more, pushing his head down, pulling on the plug in his ass, on his cock and balls. Fingers thread through his hair, pull his face up.
"What a pretty shade of red."
Eliot swallows carefully around the intrusion of the gag. It isn't a good sign that he's already lost track of how long this has been going on. Marquez releases his head and moves behind him.
"Bet you really want to hurt me, don't you? Thinking about all the ways you'd like to beat me, kill me?"
Marquez pulls Eliot back, rocks his head back until he's choking on the collar and the gag. "Or maybe you're thinking your friends will find you. Maybe they will. Maybe I'll let them…but not until you're a broken husk of the man you were…bled out, beaten down, useless to anyone."
His fingers play along the collar, his tongue following. "Foreplay's over, ready to show me how much you want me?"
The bite is hard, deep into his shoulder. Eliot fights against the arousal, against the rush of adrenaline, but before Marquez is pulling away, his cock is spent, the smell of come ripe in the air.
He's still in London. Nate knows it, can feel it. He stalks the streets from sunset to sunrise, prowls the dark…but it's a big city and he'll never find Eliot this way. It just gives him something to do, and keeps him well fed.
He's never been a voracious feeder, and aside from the revenge he took in Phoenix, his killing has always come from necessity, not hunger. Now though, his hunger is driving him crazy, his need for Eliot increasing each day that Eliot was gone.
The bland, cold blood Parker brings him isn't enough. In fact, it is barely tolerable. He takes them hard, fast, in the wee, small hours of the morning, in dark alleys and dirty bathrooms…but they aren't the one he wants.
They were criminals for the most part, though that did little to ease his conscience considering most would consider him a criminal too anymore…all the more true with every life he took.
The more blood he drank, the less alcohol he needed, the stronger he felt, the clearer his mind. Okay, maybe not clearer. More focused.
It's been more than a week and they don't have the first clue where to find him.
Nate circles his prey, catches him just before he would have raped a young woman. Drinks him, drops him to the dirty alley floor where he'd dragged the girl for the deed. There's hot blood on his face as he lifts it to scream up at the moon, but before he opens his mouth, he catches a faint scent…familiar.
Nate wipes his face on his sleeve, turning toward the scent. It's vague, a tender whiff like perfume escaping out an opening door. He follows it down an alley, loses it at the main street behind the smells of exhaust and the city.
He growls and turns back, tries to pick up the scent again. It isn't Eliot, it's lighter, less human. Vampire. Nate circles the place where he dropped his victim, narrowing in until the scent is gone completely.
He only knows a handful of others, and most of those only by reputation. So it's either the woman whose name he never got or Marquez himself. He makes note of the area and races daylight back to his hotel to tell Hardison to re-focus the search.
They've moved three times in the last week, changed aliases, separated and come together again…all in an effort to keep Marquez off of them. Nate had no doubt that Eliot would only keep him occupied and sated for a certain time, then he'd want to exact revenge for the money.
Hardison is already on the computer when he gets in, or maybe he never left it, judging by the tired, bloodshot eyes, the same clothes he's been wearing for days and the piles of empty soda cans.
Nate pulls the map off the wall and shoves it at Hardison. "Here." He points to the area. "One of them was here less than an hour ago."
Hardison blinks, rubs his eyes and takes the quivering paper out of Nate's hands. "I read better when the target isn't moving."
His eyes narrow. "That's all…industrial and commercial property…should be…" He sets the map aside and turns to the computer, flipping through screens. "Yeah, got a ping on something in that area, but it's just an increase in crime rates."
"What kind of crime?"
Hardison's fingers move over the keyboard and he nods. "Murder. Three in a six block radius in the last month."
"Find out who owns every building on that block. I want blue prints and pictures."
"On it."
"After he sleeps." Sophie's standing in the door to the adjoining room she and Parker are sharing, the hotel bathrobe open to reveal something shiny and pink underneath. "He hasn't slept in days, Nate. He won't listen to me."
Nate turns to look at Hardison. "No, she's right. Go sleep."
Hardison shakes his head. "I can sleep when I know he's safe."
Sophie moves into the room, her touch on Hardison's arm gentle. "We won't find him at all if you burn yourself out. Look at you, you're exhausted. You haven't left that chair except to go to the bathroom in almost two days. Eliot wouldn't want you killing yourself to find him."
"Okay, fine. An hour or two. If I can even sleep." Hardison lets Sophie herd him to the bedroom door.
Nate knows he should probably sleep too, but he's amped up, the blood pumping through him hot.
"You okay?" Sophie asks gently as she rejoins him, gesturing to the blood on his sleeve when he looks at her quizzically.
"Oh, that…yeah. Caught some guy trying to rape a girl. I stopped him."
"Permanently?" There's no real accusation in her tone, but he feels one there anyway as he paces around her.
"Doesn't matter."
"Don't think I haven't noticed." She pours coffee from the coffee pot on the sideboard and sits almost delicately on the couch, watching him.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
He tries sitting, but he's too wired, so he gets back up to pace more. "A vampire can exist without…well, without killing…but without feeding on the living at all. It isn't optimal, isn't what we want, but it can be done. It's kind of like eating a veggie-burger when what you really want is a steak."
"So the blood Parker steals from food banks…"
"Veggie-burger…it's enough to keep a vampire alive, but it's kind of an acquired taste. Killing is instinctual, the blood that comes from taking a human life is meat, steak…it makes us strong, powerful."
"What does that make Eliot?"
Nate groans a little, turns away from her as the desire for Eliot sweeps through him. "When a vampire feeds and leaves a victim alive, it's kind of like getting hooked on a really potent drug. Because our bodies crave all of it, and not killing is…our bodies know the job isn't finished. The blood we take is nourishing, empowering, but it isn't like this. I've never felt like this."
Finally he sits in the chair, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. "I've never felt this strong, this alive."
"You've never fed this much before." Sophie observes, sipping at her coffee.
"Never."
"And when we get Eliot back?"
Nate frowns at her, not sure he follows her meaning. "We go home. Back to normal."
She nods slowly. "Where normal is you being a vampire and Eliot being your…what exactly?"
Nate growls and stands again. "It isn't like that."
"No? That's what it looks like."
He crosses to the sideboard and pours himself a shot of the cheap whiskey he'd bought a few nights before. He doesn't really need it, want it…but it gives him something to do. "Well, it isn't."
"What is it then? You drink from him, have sex with him? What is that?"
He closes his eyes and feels the guilt rush into him. "I never wanted this, Sophie. You have to know that. I've held myself back from anyone and everyone since Maggie because I never wanted anyone to get stuck in this with me." He takes a sip out of his glass and turns to face her. "That's why you and I never…why I would never…"
She sets her cup down and stands. "But somehow Eliot made you?"
Nate nods as she crosses to him. "He took advantage of a moment of weakness."
"So, which came first, Nate? The sex or the blood?" She's touching him, her body sliding over his and with so much blood pumping through him the smell of her is intoxicating.
"Don't start something you can't finish." Nate warns, his hands held out away from her body.
"What you're telling me is that Eliot seduced you." Sophie's hands move over his hips, thighs, then one is cupping his cock, fingers sliding along its hardening length.
"Sophie." His voice is dark, deep and low in warning, but she seems to have made up her mind about what she wants.
"Was he insistent? Demanding?" Her thigh slides between his, pressing up into his cock, freeing up her hand to move to his zipper. "Did he undress you? Tease you?"
Nate drops the glass as she gets her hand inside his pants, his hand sliding into her hair, fisting and pulling when she would have slid to her knees. "You don't tease a vampire," he says through clenched teeth. "You want to know, Sophie?"
He moves them back toward the couch. "He stuck my face in a bleeding wound to get me to feed on him instead of the mark…and when it came to the sex…" He presses her back on the couch, his free hand pushing her legs apart, sliding up her thigh to her pussy, pushing into her with two fingers and coming out wet.
Nate's cock finds its way to her opening and he uses his hand in her hair to hold her head, bare her neck as he thrusts into her. "I took him over the counter in my kitchen, ripped his clothes off him and fucked his ass."
He loses himself for a moment in the motion, fucking her hard, harder than he needs to…maybe harder than she wanted, but she's moaning in time to his thrusts, her feet pressing against his ass, pulling him closer.
Her eyes are closed as he comes, his teeth bared, his fangs fully extended. He curses and pulls out, pulls away. "Fuck."
"Nate—"
Nate shakes his head, holds up his hand. "Don't."
She's moving, getting up. Nate moves away, shaking now that he's given in to the needs of his body despite promising himself he wouldn't. "Just…I'm sorry." Nate says softly. "I shouldn't have…"
She doesn't touch him, just moves back toward the bedroom door. "I'm sorry too."
She disappears behind the bedroom door and Nate folds in on himself. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" He yells and kicks at the wastebasket near the desk, sending it hurtling into the back of the sofa. His hand closes around the neck of the bottle and he lifts it, tipping it back, letting the whiskey burn some sense into him.
Title: Close the Door, Pull the Shades - Part Eight (Story Index)
Pairing/Characters: Nate/Eliot, Nate/Sophie, Hardison, Parker
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4241
Summary: Nate and his team continue searching for Eliot, who is suffering at the hands of his captor. Nate and Sophie "talk".
A/Ns & Warnings: This is, as is becoming usual,
havenward's fault. Although it started with merry_gentry's first vampire!Nate prompt on comment_fic. thus, this is a vampire!Nate fic. As such, this will include biting and some blood play. It will be a rather dom!Nate in places, but certainly not a sub!Eliot in the traditional sense. Apparently this fic has taken over my brain. I've written close to 30000 words since I started on this. That number includes tidbits that were posted to comment_fic but have not yet made it into the bigger story.He's too late. He knows it in an instant and it stops him. He falters, his knees wobbling. Eliot's gone. He can feel the cold, feel the way his body betrays him, the dark covers him and Nate knows Marquez has drank him down, far enough that Eliot can't feel anything.
Nate stumbles a little, pulling himself out of the vague light of the overcast day and into the shadows of a rundown building to get his bearings. He needs to focus, but his body is fighting him, his hunger doubled now that he knows what he wants most is out of his reach.
He isn't far from the pickup spot, and judging from the picture his people were hurt. Nate steps back out to the street, hails a taxi and gives the driver the address.
The rain is just starting as they pull to a stop and Nate's stomach lurches when he sees them. Sophie seems to be the most functional, leaning against the fence, her arms around Hardison who looks like he shouldn't even be standing. Parker stirs first though and together she and Sophie steer Hardison to the cab. Nate moves into the front seat.
"Nearest hospital, please." Nate says softly to the driver, looking over the seat at Sophie. The whole car is quiet as they drive and when they stop, Nate sends Parker for a wheelchair while he pays the driver and helps Sophie get Hardison out of the car and into the chair.
There's a mean knot on his head, but Nate can't see any other signs of trauma, though he assumes they're there. "Do you know what happened to him?" Nate asks Sophie as softly as he can, but Hardison still stiffens.
"He hasn't said a word since they put us together."
Nate nods and settles a hand on his shoulder, squatting beside him. "I need to know, Alec…so the doctor's can take care of you."
He blinks, tries to look at Nate, then looks away. Parker's hand on his pulls Nate's attention. He stands and lets her pull him away. "Torture. Electric shock at least, maybe more." She blinks and clears her throat. "Saw that much before they caught me."
"Okay, let's get him inside." He lets Sophie push the chair and talk to the admitting nurse. He's shaking when they finally come and take Hardison back to examine him.
"You okay?" Sophie asks as she joins him and Parker near a row of plastic chairs.
He shakes his head, because he's so far from okay, he doesn't know where to start. He wants a drink. Check that, needs one, because he can hear the blood pumping through the two women and it's making him crazy with hunger.
"Eliot…" he starts, but he doesn't really know what to say. His knees quiver and he sits hard and covers his face with his hands. They don't press him and together they sit in silence and wait for the doctor.
When she finally emerges and approaches, Nate stands, one hand on Parker's shoulder for balance. "Mrs. Hardison?" Her eyes dart between Parker and Sophie until Parker lifts her hand uncomfortably. "Your husband is going to be okay. He's got a pretty severe concussion and he seems to have lost a lot of blood, though we didn't find any wound to attribute that to."
Nate closes his eyes at the thought of Marquez feeding from Hardison. When he found the fucker, Nate was going to rip his cock off and split open his major arteries and leave him in the goddamn sun to shrivel up and die.
"We're re-hydrating him and getting some blood into him. He'll need to stay here at least tonight so we can keep an eye on the head injury."
"Can we see him?"
The doctor's smile is soft as she nods. "Of course. We're just getting him settled into a room."
Nate follows along behind the women, not really paying any attention to where they are until they're in the room. There's a bag of blood hanging off Hardison's IV stand and Nate has to look away. He hasn't had this much trouble controlling himself in a long, long time.
"Nate?" Parker's hand is on his and he pulls away. "Okay, that's it. Get out of here and deal with it. We'll keep an eye on him."
He wants to argue, but if he stays in the room any longer, he's going to do something he'll regret. He pulls the gun from his jacket pocket and presses it into her hand. "Protect yourselves. I'll be back."
He stumbles out of the hospital into dark that descended while they were inside. It doesn't take him long to find a pub and in moments, he's dropping his second empty glass on the bar. With the alcohol to dull the edges, he can focus a little more. He still needs to feed…but it isn't so pressing a need as it had been. He can function.
Nate drops money on the bar and stands, his eyes scanning the room. It's early evening and the pub is largely empty. If they were home, he'd only need to go to his fridge to feed…but then if they were home, he'd maybe still have Eliot.
He shakes his head and pushes out of the pub, heading back to the hospital. Maybe he can get Parker to steal him some blood. He's almost to the hospital when he hears a yell and turns to find some guy running toward him with a purse and a woman half heartedly chasing after him.
Nate grabs the thief, dragging him into a dark alley. "You picked the wrong day to be an asshole." Before he can stop himself, Nate drains him, grabbing the purse and dropping the thief into the deep shadows behind a pile of trash. He wipes his face and emerges from the alley, handing the woman back her purse.
She's dumbfounded, stuttering through "thank you" and other things that Nate shakes off as he walks away. He pushes the guilt away. He doesn't have time for guilt. He has to find Eliot. Before Marquez figures out how to break him.
The dark recedes slowly, doesn't completely go away, even as he lifts his head and opens his eyes. The room undulates around him, making him wonder if he's been drugged. He blinks and tries to force his eyes to focus, but he gives that up when his head starts pounding.
Instead he closes his eyes and tries to figure out how fucked he is.
It's obvious he's naked, but he'd sort of expected that. Of greater concern is the level of restraint involved. He can't move his arms or his legs, even his fingers. His head has a small amount of room to move.
He tries opening his eyes again, but the room is still moving. His stomach is sick, like he's had too much to drink. He breathes slowly, calls on years of training to rein in the fear and the panic that comes with the restraint.
He starts with his hands, concentrating on feeling the strength of the restraints. His hands are behind his back, and from what he can tell, his fingers are interlaced, matching fingers from opposite hands lashed together, palms pressed together and there's leather around the knuckles and more around his wrists. There's something between his elbows, lashed to his arms, holding them firmly.
There's a collar around his neck, thick and holding his head up, keeping him from much more than turning his head to either side. He breathes in deep, licks his lips and forces himself to stay calm. There's a strap coming off the collar, down his spine. It travels the length of his back, narrowing as it reaches his ass.
Eliot can feel the plug inside him, connected to the strap, connected to another strap that moves under him. His cock and balls are held tight. He swallows and forces himself to continue his analysis.
He's laying on his side on a cold floor. There's a bar between his legs, just above the knees, leather cuffs holding it in place, keeping his knees apart. There's another between his ankles, making it so he cannot begin to move his legs. In fact, it's pretty clear that trussed up like this he's about as helpless as a grown man can be.
Helpless isn't something Eliot is used to being. He tests each bond slowly and carefully, then a little less carefully. He succumbs to the panic for a minute and thrashes, ending up on his stomach, feet in the air before he gets himself under control again.
A door opens and Eliot turns his head in an effort to see. There's a low chuckle, then hands lifting him, setting him on his knees. "Rough night?"
Marquez squats in front of him, pushing hair out of Eliot's face. "Your reputation precedes you, so I figured that for the first little while, we'd keep you safely put away. Be a good boy and play nice and maybe I'll consider loosening up a little." His hand slid down Eliot's face to the collar. "This though…its very pretty. I think we'll keep it."
"Nate is going to kill--" Marquez backhands him hard, splitting Eliot's lip.
"I've told you before. Slaves don't speak." Marquez licks the blood from his hand and smiles coldly. "I'm not like your former master, Slave. You will be silent and you will be obedient or you will be dead."
"I ain't your slave--" Again with the hand, knuckles slamming into Eliot's cheekbone.
"I can see you need to be taught lessons the hard way." Marquez holds out his hand and one of his men puts something in his hand. "Lucky for you, that means I'm intrigued. I always did like a challenge."
His strong hand pulls Eliot's chin, opening his mouth and shoving something hard inside. It fills his mouth, presses against his gag reflex. Before Eliot can spit it out, Marquez is strapping it on, pulling the strap tight behind Eliot's head.
"That should keep you quiet for a while." Marquez stands and stares down at him. "I have some business to attend to. We'll have a little fun when I return."
Nate's half way through a very expensive bottle of scotch when Parker and Sophie help Hardison into the suite. He still hasn't said a word to Nate, barely anything to Parker. Nate puts his glass down and moves to the couch where Sophie settles Hardison.
Alec's eyes lift to his, but then away. Nate touches his head and leans in, smelling deeply. He can still smell Marquez all over him, but he didn't feed on the hacker. Nate frowns and lifts his arm, his thumb caressing over Hardison's elbow. "He bled you."
Nate releases him and paces away, back to his glass. He drains it and reaches for the bottle, but Sophie's hand stops him. "Do you think you need more?"
"That depends, do you want to have all of your blood in the morning?" Nate closes his eyes when she cringes. "Just…it helps, okay?"
She doesn't respond, but leaves him to the booze.
Nate sips at the drink and watches Hardison for a moment. It was clear to him now what had happened. Marquez had bled Hardison, weakened him without all the emotional attachment of feeding directly from him. Probably saved the blood for a rainy day. It wasn't a whole lot different than getting it from blood banks…except for the involuntary part of it.
Then the bastard had tormented Hardison, tortured him into telling Marquez anything and everything. "I'd like a moment alone with Hardison, ladies."
"I don't think--" Sophie stops when she sees his face, gathering Parker with a nod of her head in the direction of the door. When it's closed, Nate crosses to Hardison, sitting on the coffee table and sighing softly. "I know you probably feel like crap right now. I know, believe me. But we need you, Alec." Nate lifts the glass between them. "I want you to drink this and take a deep breath. Then you can tell me whatever it is you need to tell me and we can put it behind us and find a way to save Eliot. Okay?"
Hardison takes the drink and stares at it for a minute before sipping it and swallowing. "You'll hate me," he says after a long silence. "Kill me maybe…I…didn't want to." His eyes lift, tears gathering in the corner. "You gotta believe me, I tried to…be like Eliot…strong…but you know I'm not…I'm just a hacker…just a…" His voice trails off and he lifts the glass again. "I won't blame you if you do…kill me I mean."
"Hardison, I'm not going to kill you." Nate says as gently as he can. "Just tell me."
"He…I don't know how he found me. But he…they beat me up pretty good, grabbed me, stuffed me in a van…they…stuck a needle in my arm and I almost passed out…then came the jumper cables…when they started asking questions I didn't even know where I was."
Nate nods, closing his eyes and figuring the rest. Hardison probably told them where to find Nate and Eliot, what aliases they were using, maybe more. "It's okay, Alec. It isn't your fault."
"Like hell." He stands, draining off the last of the alcohol in the glass and shoving it back at Nate. "Eliot would never have…not that easily. He would have kept his mouth shut. He would have taken the pain and not given up his friends."
"We all have a breaking point, Alec." Nate says, standing and following him to the window. "And Marquez knows how to read people, figures out exactly what each person can take. Trust me when I tell you that if we don't find Eliot, Marquez will break him."
His skin is slicked with sweat and breathing around the gag is becoming difficult. His jaw hurts, his shoulders pulse with agonizing pain. Each blow makes them hurt that much more, pushing his head down, pulling on the plug in his ass, on his cock and balls. Fingers thread through his hair, pull his face up.
"What a pretty shade of red."
Eliot swallows carefully around the intrusion of the gag. It isn't a good sign that he's already lost track of how long this has been going on. Marquez releases his head and moves behind him.
"Bet you really want to hurt me, don't you? Thinking about all the ways you'd like to beat me, kill me?"
Marquez pulls Eliot back, rocks his head back until he's choking on the collar and the gag. "Or maybe you're thinking your friends will find you. Maybe they will. Maybe I'll let them…but not until you're a broken husk of the man you were…bled out, beaten down, useless to anyone."
His fingers play along the collar, his tongue following. "Foreplay's over, ready to show me how much you want me?"
The bite is hard, deep into his shoulder. Eliot fights against the arousal, against the rush of adrenaline, but before Marquez is pulling away, his cock is spent, the smell of come ripe in the air.
He's still in London. Nate knows it, can feel it. He stalks the streets from sunset to sunrise, prowls the dark…but it's a big city and he'll never find Eliot this way. It just gives him something to do, and keeps him well fed.
He's never been a voracious feeder, and aside from the revenge he took in Phoenix, his killing has always come from necessity, not hunger. Now though, his hunger is driving him crazy, his need for Eliot increasing each day that Eliot was gone.
The bland, cold blood Parker brings him isn't enough. In fact, it is barely tolerable. He takes them hard, fast, in the wee, small hours of the morning, in dark alleys and dirty bathrooms…but they aren't the one he wants.
They were criminals for the most part, though that did little to ease his conscience considering most would consider him a criminal too anymore…all the more true with every life he took.
The more blood he drank, the less alcohol he needed, the stronger he felt, the clearer his mind. Okay, maybe not clearer. More focused.
It's been more than a week and they don't have the first clue where to find him.
Nate circles his prey, catches him just before he would have raped a young woman. Drinks him, drops him to the dirty alley floor where he'd dragged the girl for the deed. There's hot blood on his face as he lifts it to scream up at the moon, but before he opens his mouth, he catches a faint scent…familiar.
Nate wipes his face on his sleeve, turning toward the scent. It's vague, a tender whiff like perfume escaping out an opening door. He follows it down an alley, loses it at the main street behind the smells of exhaust and the city.
He growls and turns back, tries to pick up the scent again. It isn't Eliot, it's lighter, less human. Vampire. Nate circles the place where he dropped his victim, narrowing in until the scent is gone completely.
He only knows a handful of others, and most of those only by reputation. So it's either the woman whose name he never got or Marquez himself. He makes note of the area and races daylight back to his hotel to tell Hardison to re-focus the search.
They've moved three times in the last week, changed aliases, separated and come together again…all in an effort to keep Marquez off of them. Nate had no doubt that Eliot would only keep him occupied and sated for a certain time, then he'd want to exact revenge for the money.
Hardison is already on the computer when he gets in, or maybe he never left it, judging by the tired, bloodshot eyes, the same clothes he's been wearing for days and the piles of empty soda cans.
Nate pulls the map off the wall and shoves it at Hardison. "Here." He points to the area. "One of them was here less than an hour ago."
Hardison blinks, rubs his eyes and takes the quivering paper out of Nate's hands. "I read better when the target isn't moving."
His eyes narrow. "That's all…industrial and commercial property…should be…" He sets the map aside and turns to the computer, flipping through screens. "Yeah, got a ping on something in that area, but it's just an increase in crime rates."
"What kind of crime?"
Hardison's fingers move over the keyboard and he nods. "Murder. Three in a six block radius in the last month."
"Find out who owns every building on that block. I want blue prints and pictures."
"On it."
"After he sleeps." Sophie's standing in the door to the adjoining room she and Parker are sharing, the hotel bathrobe open to reveal something shiny and pink underneath. "He hasn't slept in days, Nate. He won't listen to me."
Nate turns to look at Hardison. "No, she's right. Go sleep."
Hardison shakes his head. "I can sleep when I know he's safe."
Sophie moves into the room, her touch on Hardison's arm gentle. "We won't find him at all if you burn yourself out. Look at you, you're exhausted. You haven't left that chair except to go to the bathroom in almost two days. Eliot wouldn't want you killing yourself to find him."
"Okay, fine. An hour or two. If I can even sleep." Hardison lets Sophie herd him to the bedroom door.
Nate knows he should probably sleep too, but he's amped up, the blood pumping through him hot.
"You okay?" Sophie asks gently as she rejoins him, gesturing to the blood on his sleeve when he looks at her quizzically.
"Oh, that…yeah. Caught some guy trying to rape a girl. I stopped him."
"Permanently?" There's no real accusation in her tone, but he feels one there anyway as he paces around her.
"Doesn't matter."
"Don't think I haven't noticed." She pours coffee from the coffee pot on the sideboard and sits almost delicately on the couch, watching him.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me."
He tries sitting, but he's too wired, so he gets back up to pace more. "A vampire can exist without…well, without killing…but without feeding on the living at all. It isn't optimal, isn't what we want, but it can be done. It's kind of like eating a veggie-burger when what you really want is a steak."
"So the blood Parker steals from food banks…"
"Veggie-burger…it's enough to keep a vampire alive, but it's kind of an acquired taste. Killing is instinctual, the blood that comes from taking a human life is meat, steak…it makes us strong, powerful."
"What does that make Eliot?"
Nate groans a little, turns away from her as the desire for Eliot sweeps through him. "When a vampire feeds and leaves a victim alive, it's kind of like getting hooked on a really potent drug. Because our bodies crave all of it, and not killing is…our bodies know the job isn't finished. The blood we take is nourishing, empowering, but it isn't like this. I've never felt like this."
Finally he sits in the chair, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. "I've never felt this strong, this alive."
"You've never fed this much before." Sophie observes, sipping at her coffee.
"Never."
"And when we get Eliot back?"
Nate frowns at her, not sure he follows her meaning. "We go home. Back to normal."
She nods slowly. "Where normal is you being a vampire and Eliot being your…what exactly?"
Nate growls and stands again. "It isn't like that."
"No? That's what it looks like."
He crosses to the sideboard and pours himself a shot of the cheap whiskey he'd bought a few nights before. He doesn't really need it, want it…but it gives him something to do. "Well, it isn't."
"What is it then? You drink from him, have sex with him? What is that?"
He closes his eyes and feels the guilt rush into him. "I never wanted this, Sophie. You have to know that. I've held myself back from anyone and everyone since Maggie because I never wanted anyone to get stuck in this with me." He takes a sip out of his glass and turns to face her. "That's why you and I never…why I would never…"
She sets her cup down and stands. "But somehow Eliot made you?"
Nate nods as she crosses to him. "He took advantage of a moment of weakness."
"So, which came first, Nate? The sex or the blood?" She's touching him, her body sliding over his and with so much blood pumping through him the smell of her is intoxicating.
"Don't start something you can't finish." Nate warns, his hands held out away from her body.
"What you're telling me is that Eliot seduced you." Sophie's hands move over his hips, thighs, then one is cupping his cock, fingers sliding along its hardening length.
"Sophie." His voice is dark, deep and low in warning, but she seems to have made up her mind about what she wants.
"Was he insistent? Demanding?" Her thigh slides between his, pressing up into his cock, freeing up her hand to move to his zipper. "Did he undress you? Tease you?"
Nate drops the glass as she gets her hand inside his pants, his hand sliding into her hair, fisting and pulling when she would have slid to her knees. "You don't tease a vampire," he says through clenched teeth. "You want to know, Sophie?"
He moves them back toward the couch. "He stuck my face in a bleeding wound to get me to feed on him instead of the mark…and when it came to the sex…" He presses her back on the couch, his free hand pushing her legs apart, sliding up her thigh to her pussy, pushing into her with two fingers and coming out wet.
Nate's cock finds its way to her opening and he uses his hand in her hair to hold her head, bare her neck as he thrusts into her. "I took him over the counter in my kitchen, ripped his clothes off him and fucked his ass."
He loses himself for a moment in the motion, fucking her hard, harder than he needs to…maybe harder than she wanted, but she's moaning in time to his thrusts, her feet pressing against his ass, pulling him closer.
Her eyes are closed as he comes, his teeth bared, his fangs fully extended. He curses and pulls out, pulls away. "Fuck."
"Nate—"
Nate shakes his head, holds up his hand. "Don't."
She's moving, getting up. Nate moves away, shaking now that he's given in to the needs of his body despite promising himself he wouldn't. "Just…I'm sorry." Nate says softly. "I shouldn't have…"
She doesn't touch him, just moves back toward the bedroom door. "I'm sorry too."
She disappears behind the bedroom door and Nate folds in on himself. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" He yells and kicks at the wastebasket near the desk, sending it hurtling into the back of the sofa. His hand closes around the neck of the bottle and he lifts it, tipping it back, letting the whiskey burn some sense into him.