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Entry tags:
Do Not Disturb, Leverage, NC-17
Fandom: Leverage
Title: Do Not Disturb
Characters/Pairings: Hardison/Eliot
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1952
Summary: Following the fight in The Tap Out Job, Eliot's beat up and hurting, though he tries to hide that as much as he can from the team. Hardison however just wants to make sure he's okay. And maybe something a little more.
A/Ns & Warnings: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
humblefan, who asked for Alec/Eliot, hurt/comfort, first time, hot sex. I hope this suits...
He doesn't let on how bad he's actually hurting, though he thinks maybe Nate suspects. He does what he can to not hold his ribs, to not wince when he moves as they wrap up the loose ends.
When they're in the clear and he can get away, Eliot slips out the back door of the gym, sucking cool air into protesting lungs. The ring doctor is going to come looking for him, but Eliot doesn't want a hospital…doesn't want the others to see, especially not Sophie. Not after everything he'd said to her.
He keeps his head down and makes for the hotel by himself. He'd ice what needed icing and get something into him to make the pain manageable and come morning when they were ready to do the payoff, he'd be ready to face them again.
He stops at the ice machine and strips off his shirt, sticking it where the bucket was meant to go and pushing the button. He lets the ice fall until he has enough, then gathers the corners of his shirt, pulling them up to cradle the ice.
His room isn't far, which he is grateful for. He is stiffening up and the pain is radiating from the ribs out and down. It makes his gait slow, almost a limp and he leans into the wall beside his door as he fishes out his key and lets himself in.
The room is cold and can see his breath as he dumps the ice into the ice bucket. He turns to the thermostat, getting the heat started as he finishes the job of stripping down to his underwear.
He turns on the bathroom light and blinks as his eyes adjust. The left eye is going to swell shut before too long. His left shoulder is already showing signs of bruising and it was stiffening up. He lifts his right arm to get a better look at his chest. The whole side is red and will probably bruise in by morning. The blows he took while Tank had him in the corner had been brutal.
He uses his left hand to tenderly feel over the ribs to determine if anything actually broke, or if it's just a deep bruising. He feels along each bone, despite the pain it sparks. Satisfied that nothing's broken, Eliot turns away from the mirror and gathers towels to make into ice packs.
He drops them on the bed and goes to his duffle bag, pulling out the tape and grabbing the ice bucket. He starts with the ribs, loading ice into a hand towel and folding it up before pressing it to his side and awkwardly taping it into place.
He does the shoulder next, taping the towel down so that the ice is over the place that hurts the most. He's just reaching into his bag for the pain pills he carries with him when he hears what sounds like someone at his door. He freezes and slides up to the wall, inching his way to the entryway of the room.
The door opens, then closes and Eliot tenses. The footsteps are light and Eliot figures it for Parker at first, but as he grabs and turns, shoving the intruder into the wall, it's actually Hardison.
Hardison holds up both hands in surrender and Eliot lets go. "Damnit Hardison, are you trying to get killed?"
"Hey, man, take it easy." Hardison pulls down his shirt from the way Eliot's manhandling had pulled it up. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
His tone is tight, not his usual nerd joke sound at all and his face is serious. Eliot sighs and turns away, his own face a frown. "I'm fine."
His hand catches on Eliot's good shoulder and turns him. "I'm serious."
"So am I." Eliot says, trying to shake him off, but Hardison is uncharacteristically hard to slip, his eyes catching on Eliot's and holding. It's actually Eliot that blinks and looks away, feeling strangely vulnerable.
Hardison nods and lets go, heading for the door. Eliot thinks he's convinced the hacker, but the door opens and Hardison only moves the "Do Not Disturb" sign to the outside and closes the door, throwing the safety lock.
"What are you doing?" Eliot asks when Hardison slips his bag over his head and sets it on the floor near the bed.
Hardison doesn't answer right away, picking up the bottle of pills Eliot had dropped onto the bed. "You take any?"
"Not yet. What…?"
Hardison doles out two after reading the label, disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water.
"What are you doing?" Eliot asks again, though he doesn't expect any more answer.
Hardison hands him the pills and the water. Eliot stares at them. Hardison sighs. "Stop."
"Stop what?" Eliot asks.
"Stop pretending it doesn't hurt. Dude, I can see that you're hurting. Hell, I hurt just looking at you."
Eliot growls out of instinct at what sounds like a slight and Hardison closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Not what I meant." He pushes Eliot's hand with the pills up toward his mouth. "Take them."
"Only one. Two makes me sleep."
"So sleep."
"I don't sleep."
Hardison crosses his arms and stares. Eliot stares back for a long time before he huffs and puts the pills in his mouth, swallowing them with half the water before he gives the glass back to Hardison. "There. Happy?"
He takes the glass, but doesn't seem at all satisfied.
Eliot swipes the bag and bucket off the bed, knowing he's going to need to lay down soon. He puts the bag on the floor and the bucket on the nightstand. He is tired and feeling more than a little vulnerable with the way Hardison keeps looking at him. "So…"
Suddenly, Hardison is there, crowding Eliot into the wall, chest to chest. His breathing is tight, his eyes boring into Eliot. "You can be a stupid, stupid man."
Eliot opens his mouth to respond, but no sound comes out because Hardison kisses him just then. Even when Hardison pulls back, Eliot can't seem to make words come out of his mouth.
"Are you going to kill me?" Hardison asks, looking like he's ready to run.
Eliot considers it for a minute, but he's hurting and he's tired and Hardison just kissed him and he's confused, but not as stupid as Hardison might think he is.
"Now who's being stupid?" Eliot asks, grabbing his shirt and pulling him close. He licks his lips and thinks maybe he wouldn't do this if he wasn't already feeling the pills and the effects of the fight, but he stops thinking and kisses the fool, turning them until Hardison is the one against the wall.
His head is a little buzzy as he pulls away, and he grabs at Hardison as his knees buckle. Hardison holds him and eases him onto the bed.
"Okay, see. That's what I mean." Hardison says. "A man in your condition needs sleep."
"My condition?" Eliot growls.
Hardison shakes his head. "Uh huh. No arguing. Sleep."
"I don't sleep." Eliot argues, yawning around the words.
"Right."
Eliot yawns more and he's finding it harder to keep his eyes open. Hardison is talking, but Eliot can't make out the words as he slips into the dark.
He's aware that he isn't alone before he's even aware that he's awake. For a moment he lies still, letting the events of the night before filter into his brain. The fight, the beating, the walk back alone, Hardison.
Hardison.
That explains the leg tangled with his, the arm tossed over his stomach, carefully away from the wet towel still taped to his side. Hardison shifts, his face pressed against Eliot's shoulder, snuffling as he woke.
Hardison moves, then freezes when his morning erection presses against Eliot's thigh, nothing but his boxers between them. "Morning." Eliot growls and Hardison shudders against him, making Eliot chuckle. He reaches down and grabs Hardison's cock. "This for me?"
"Eliot, I…um…just…you know…it's morning…I don't…"
"Shut up Hardison." Eliot says, smirking as he strokes his cock through the material.
"Shut up?" Hardison squeaks.
Eliot squeezes, turns his hand. "Yes, shut up."
"Right….ah…ah…shutting up."
Eliot grins, sliding his leg up between Hardison's, pressing into his balls. Hardison makes a whimpering moan and nuzzles into Eliot's neck. It shouldn't make him harden and twist his hand that much harder, but it does. And the way that makes Hardison react only intensifies the need to make him keep doing it.
He ignores the stabbing pain in his shoulder and leverages himself up, capturing his lips, pressing his tongue into Hardison's mouth and pushing him onto his back, his hand moving slowly over his cock.
Hardison grabs at him when his mouth leaves lips and travels south, but he lets go immediately, at least until Eliot's mouth closes over his cock. Then Hardison grabs at him, hands in his hair, pulling even as his whole body tightens and his hips jerk up.
He can't help but laugh as he lifts up, looking down as Hardison's orgasm spills out onto his stomach, shining against the dark skin. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out for a long time, until finally he squeaks out "Damn…fuck…holy…"
"Damn, son, you'd think you'd never had someone suck your dick before." Eliot says as he lays back down, holding his own hard dick now as Hardison's eyes open and he pins Eliot with his gaze.
"First of all, I ain't your son…which is good because that would have been wrong on so many levels if I was. Second…I'll have you know that I have had plenty of experiences…"
"Just not that one." Eliot guesses, still grinning.
Hardison catches him by surprise then, pouncing on top of him and kissing him. "Only because I'd rather be giving them." Hardison whispers harshly in his ear before he twists his body around and his mouth takes Eliot's whole cock, his tongue moving, teeth and suction and holy fuck, but just like that Eliot is on the brink of coming himself.
When Hardison slips a hand between his legs and cups his balls, rolling them, then squeezing, Eliot comes in a rush, filling Hardison's mouth before he could warn him. "Shit. Sorry."
Hardison sat up, grinning down at him. "Don't be."
Eliot's phone rang from the floor where he'd dropped his bag and he sat up slowly, favoring the shoulder. Hardison dove for the bag, handing him the phone. "Nate." Eliot says, flipping the phone open. "Yeah." He puts his feet on the floor and stands. "No, why would I know where Hardison is? He's probably hacking into some porn site somewhere." Eliot slaps at Hardison's hands. "Yeah, whatever. I'll meet you there."
He hangs up and points at Hardison. "You, get the money shit straightened out for Nate. They're heading down to the gym to meet the clients."
"Just like that?" Hardison asks as Eliot starts pulling the tape and towels off of him. "You expect me to give you a mind-blowing orgasm, then jump on my computer without even getting a thank you?"
"First, it wasn't all that mind blowing." Eliot says, pulling him up off the bed. "Second, thank you." He kisses him slowly. "Third, yes. Exactly. Get out of here. I need a shower."
He pads into the bathroom, not looking to see if Hardison actually left, but when he's done with his shower, he's alone. He grins as he gets dressed and pulls his things together.
On his way out, Eliot pulls the "Do Not Disturb" sign off the door and tucks it into his bag.
Title: Do Not Disturb
Characters/Pairings: Hardison/Eliot
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1952
Summary: Following the fight in The Tap Out Job, Eliot's beat up and hurting, though he tries to hide that as much as he can from the team. Hardison however just wants to make sure he's okay. And maybe something a little more.
A/Ns & Warnings: For
humblefan, who asked for Alec/Eliot, hurt/comfort, first time, hot sex. I hope this suits...He doesn't let on how bad he's actually hurting, though he thinks maybe Nate suspects. He does what he can to not hold his ribs, to not wince when he moves as they wrap up the loose ends.
When they're in the clear and he can get away, Eliot slips out the back door of the gym, sucking cool air into protesting lungs. The ring doctor is going to come looking for him, but Eliot doesn't want a hospital…doesn't want the others to see, especially not Sophie. Not after everything he'd said to her.
He keeps his head down and makes for the hotel by himself. He'd ice what needed icing and get something into him to make the pain manageable and come morning when they were ready to do the payoff, he'd be ready to face them again.
He stops at the ice machine and strips off his shirt, sticking it where the bucket was meant to go and pushing the button. He lets the ice fall until he has enough, then gathers the corners of his shirt, pulling them up to cradle the ice.
His room isn't far, which he is grateful for. He is stiffening up and the pain is radiating from the ribs out and down. It makes his gait slow, almost a limp and he leans into the wall beside his door as he fishes out his key and lets himself in.
The room is cold and can see his breath as he dumps the ice into the ice bucket. He turns to the thermostat, getting the heat started as he finishes the job of stripping down to his underwear.
He turns on the bathroom light and blinks as his eyes adjust. The left eye is going to swell shut before too long. His left shoulder is already showing signs of bruising and it was stiffening up. He lifts his right arm to get a better look at his chest. The whole side is red and will probably bruise in by morning. The blows he took while Tank had him in the corner had been brutal.
He uses his left hand to tenderly feel over the ribs to determine if anything actually broke, or if it's just a deep bruising. He feels along each bone, despite the pain it sparks. Satisfied that nothing's broken, Eliot turns away from the mirror and gathers towels to make into ice packs.
He drops them on the bed and goes to his duffle bag, pulling out the tape and grabbing the ice bucket. He starts with the ribs, loading ice into a hand towel and folding it up before pressing it to his side and awkwardly taping it into place.
He does the shoulder next, taping the towel down so that the ice is over the place that hurts the most. He's just reaching into his bag for the pain pills he carries with him when he hears what sounds like someone at his door. He freezes and slides up to the wall, inching his way to the entryway of the room.
The door opens, then closes and Eliot tenses. The footsteps are light and Eliot figures it for Parker at first, but as he grabs and turns, shoving the intruder into the wall, it's actually Hardison.
Hardison holds up both hands in surrender and Eliot lets go. "Damnit Hardison, are you trying to get killed?"
"Hey, man, take it easy." Hardison pulls down his shirt from the way Eliot's manhandling had pulled it up. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
His tone is tight, not his usual nerd joke sound at all and his face is serious. Eliot sighs and turns away, his own face a frown. "I'm fine."
His hand catches on Eliot's good shoulder and turns him. "I'm serious."
"So am I." Eliot says, trying to shake him off, but Hardison is uncharacteristically hard to slip, his eyes catching on Eliot's and holding. It's actually Eliot that blinks and looks away, feeling strangely vulnerable.
Hardison nods and lets go, heading for the door. Eliot thinks he's convinced the hacker, but the door opens and Hardison only moves the "Do Not Disturb" sign to the outside and closes the door, throwing the safety lock.
"What are you doing?" Eliot asks when Hardison slips his bag over his head and sets it on the floor near the bed.
Hardison doesn't answer right away, picking up the bottle of pills Eliot had dropped onto the bed. "You take any?"
"Not yet. What…?"
Hardison doles out two after reading the label, disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water.
"What are you doing?" Eliot asks again, though he doesn't expect any more answer.
Hardison hands him the pills and the water. Eliot stares at them. Hardison sighs. "Stop."
"Stop what?" Eliot asks.
"Stop pretending it doesn't hurt. Dude, I can see that you're hurting. Hell, I hurt just looking at you."
Eliot growls out of instinct at what sounds like a slight and Hardison closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Not what I meant." He pushes Eliot's hand with the pills up toward his mouth. "Take them."
"Only one. Two makes me sleep."
"So sleep."
"I don't sleep."
Hardison crosses his arms and stares. Eliot stares back for a long time before he huffs and puts the pills in his mouth, swallowing them with half the water before he gives the glass back to Hardison. "There. Happy?"
He takes the glass, but doesn't seem at all satisfied.
Eliot swipes the bag and bucket off the bed, knowing he's going to need to lay down soon. He puts the bag on the floor and the bucket on the nightstand. He is tired and feeling more than a little vulnerable with the way Hardison keeps looking at him. "So…"
Suddenly, Hardison is there, crowding Eliot into the wall, chest to chest. His breathing is tight, his eyes boring into Eliot. "You can be a stupid, stupid man."
Eliot opens his mouth to respond, but no sound comes out because Hardison kisses him just then. Even when Hardison pulls back, Eliot can't seem to make words come out of his mouth.
"Are you going to kill me?" Hardison asks, looking like he's ready to run.
Eliot considers it for a minute, but he's hurting and he's tired and Hardison just kissed him and he's confused, but not as stupid as Hardison might think he is.
"Now who's being stupid?" Eliot asks, grabbing his shirt and pulling him close. He licks his lips and thinks maybe he wouldn't do this if he wasn't already feeling the pills and the effects of the fight, but he stops thinking and kisses the fool, turning them until Hardison is the one against the wall.
His head is a little buzzy as he pulls away, and he grabs at Hardison as his knees buckle. Hardison holds him and eases him onto the bed.
"Okay, see. That's what I mean." Hardison says. "A man in your condition needs sleep."
"My condition?" Eliot growls.
Hardison shakes his head. "Uh huh. No arguing. Sleep."
"I don't sleep." Eliot argues, yawning around the words.
"Right."
Eliot yawns more and he's finding it harder to keep his eyes open. Hardison is talking, but Eliot can't make out the words as he slips into the dark.
He's aware that he isn't alone before he's even aware that he's awake. For a moment he lies still, letting the events of the night before filter into his brain. The fight, the beating, the walk back alone, Hardison.
Hardison.
That explains the leg tangled with his, the arm tossed over his stomach, carefully away from the wet towel still taped to his side. Hardison shifts, his face pressed against Eliot's shoulder, snuffling as he woke.
Hardison moves, then freezes when his morning erection presses against Eliot's thigh, nothing but his boxers between them. "Morning." Eliot growls and Hardison shudders against him, making Eliot chuckle. He reaches down and grabs Hardison's cock. "This for me?"
"Eliot, I…um…just…you know…it's morning…I don't…"
"Shut up Hardison." Eliot says, smirking as he strokes his cock through the material.
"Shut up?" Hardison squeaks.
Eliot squeezes, turns his hand. "Yes, shut up."
"Right….ah…ah…shutting up."
Eliot grins, sliding his leg up between Hardison's, pressing into his balls. Hardison makes a whimpering moan and nuzzles into Eliot's neck. It shouldn't make him harden and twist his hand that much harder, but it does. And the way that makes Hardison react only intensifies the need to make him keep doing it.
He ignores the stabbing pain in his shoulder and leverages himself up, capturing his lips, pressing his tongue into Hardison's mouth and pushing him onto his back, his hand moving slowly over his cock.
Hardison grabs at him when his mouth leaves lips and travels south, but he lets go immediately, at least until Eliot's mouth closes over his cock. Then Hardison grabs at him, hands in his hair, pulling even as his whole body tightens and his hips jerk up.
He can't help but laugh as he lifts up, looking down as Hardison's orgasm spills out onto his stomach, shining against the dark skin. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out for a long time, until finally he squeaks out "Damn…fuck…holy…"
"Damn, son, you'd think you'd never had someone suck your dick before." Eliot says as he lays back down, holding his own hard dick now as Hardison's eyes open and he pins Eliot with his gaze.
"First of all, I ain't your son…which is good because that would have been wrong on so many levels if I was. Second…I'll have you know that I have had plenty of experiences…"
"Just not that one." Eliot guesses, still grinning.
Hardison catches him by surprise then, pouncing on top of him and kissing him. "Only because I'd rather be giving them." Hardison whispers harshly in his ear before he twists his body around and his mouth takes Eliot's whole cock, his tongue moving, teeth and suction and holy fuck, but just like that Eliot is on the brink of coming himself.
When Hardison slips a hand between his legs and cups his balls, rolling them, then squeezing, Eliot comes in a rush, filling Hardison's mouth before he could warn him. "Shit. Sorry."
Hardison sat up, grinning down at him. "Don't be."
Eliot's phone rang from the floor where he'd dropped his bag and he sat up slowly, favoring the shoulder. Hardison dove for the bag, handing him the phone. "Nate." Eliot says, flipping the phone open. "Yeah." He puts his feet on the floor and stands. "No, why would I know where Hardison is? He's probably hacking into some porn site somewhere." Eliot slaps at Hardison's hands. "Yeah, whatever. I'll meet you there."
He hangs up and points at Hardison. "You, get the money shit straightened out for Nate. They're heading down to the gym to meet the clients."
"Just like that?" Hardison asks as Eliot starts pulling the tape and towels off of him. "You expect me to give you a mind-blowing orgasm, then jump on my computer without even getting a thank you?"
"First, it wasn't all that mind blowing." Eliot says, pulling him up off the bed. "Second, thank you." He kisses him slowly. "Third, yes. Exactly. Get out of here. I need a shower."
He pads into the bathroom, not looking to see if Hardison actually left, but when he's done with his shower, he's alone. He grins as he gets dressed and pulls his things together.
On his way out, Eliot pulls the "Do Not Disturb" sign off the door and tucks it into his bag.