silverfoxflower (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silverfoxflower) wrote2011-07-21 09:11 pm
silverfoxflower) wrote2011-07-21 09:11 pm
Fic: The Skittles Job (Eliot/Hardison, NC-17)
Title: The Skittles Job
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silverfoxflower
Fandom: Leverage
Genre: PWP, Slash, Humor
Word Count: ~1400
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Rough sex, slah. No spoilers.
Notes: Fills the "Held Down" square of my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kink_bingo . See my card here. Beta'd by lemposoi and kisahawklin , and all mistakes are mine.
Summary: Eliot is convinced Hardison stole his Skittles. Clearly, punishment is in order.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
“Skittles.”
Hardison flailed under Eliot’s grip, breathing fast and shallow around the forearm lodged in his windpipe. His dropped plate spun to a slow stop on the floor as he struggled against the wall. “What?”
“My. Skittles.” Eliot’s eyes narrowed. “Where are they?”
“Man, I don’t know nothing about-“ Hardison snapped his mouth shut as Eliot growled in his face. “What, your blood sugar crash or something?” he asked weakly.
“I just don’t stand for people touching my stuff.” It shouldn’t have been hot, the way Eliot effortlessly dropped him. For a second, Hardison thought he’d be down and out, but when he opened his eyes, the floor was close enough to kiss and Eliot was pushing him down with a minimal of bruising. Then he straddled Hardison, capturing both of his wrists in one hand and started feeling his way down Hardison’s body with the other. “If you have them on you, I’ll find them.”
Hardison yelped as he felt a hand cup his balls and give a not-so-gentle squeeze. “You think I hid your Skittles in my crotch? Get your fingers out of there!”
Nevermind that his cock didn’t seem as outraged as his brain. In fact, it was stirring against Eliot’s firm palm, whining for more contact.
“You must have eaten them. Open your mouth.” Eliot hissed.
Hardison honestly couldn’t think of a comeback, so he obeyed.
“Smells sweet …” Eliot murmured suspiciously before sealing his lips over Hardison’s. Immediately, Eliot’s tongue came into play, running over every inch Hardison’s mouth as if determined to seek out a specific flavor.
Hardison moaned, and he told himself it was in protest, not in arousal. His cock, the treacherous fucker, disagreed, straining against the fly of Hardison’s jeans, drooling pre-come against the dark denim.
“You ate them.” Eliot pulled back, licking his lips. The look in his eyes was positively dangerous.
“Look, no,” Hardison protested weakly, ignoring the voice in his head that wanted to admit to a crime he did not commit just to see if Eliot would really take him over his lap and spank him. Hardison hated that masochistic head-voice. “This is all a big mistake … I just drank a can of orange soda and-“
“So you hid them.” Eliot smiled triumphantly.
“No, listen.”
“My candy, from my secret stash. Only you know where it is because I showed you.” Eliot pressed his body firmly against Hardison’s allowing the other man to feel the couple hundred pounds of muscle pinning him to the floor.
Again. Shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. Did you eat them or did you hide them?” Tonguing slowly up the side of Hardison’s quivering jaw, Eliot nipped at his earlobe. “Punishment, or interrogation. You decide.”
Hardison was panting although his windpipe had long been freed. Helplessly, he tugged at his hands, but they were held fast, his legs similarly trapped by Eliot’s knees. His cock throbbed in time to the beating of his heart, pressed against Eliot’s muscular thigh and loving every minute of it.
Then, Eliot began to rock, his own erection digging into Hardison’s hip.
“P-punishment!” Hardison choked out, right before Eliot’s mouth descended again on his own.
Eliot traded hands, keeping Hardison’s wrists pinned to the ground as his he slowly slid up his shirt, trailing blunt nails against his skin and thumbing a nipple. Hardison responded with a low groan and a frantic movement with his hips, rutting desperately, as if trying to burrow through two layers of clothing.
The heel of Eliot’s hand provided sweet relief when it traveled downwards and pressed down on Hardison’s cock, firm and almost- fuck, perfect. Hardison almost wept when Eliot shifted his attention to fumbling with Hardison’s jeans.
After two fruitless minutes, Eliot had to pull away from their kiss to look downwards. “You have a padlock on these things?”
Hissing with frustration, Hardison tried to grind against Eliot’s fingers, wrist, anything to bring him closer to relief. “Man can crack safes but can’t work three button-clasps and a zipper.”
“What the fuck is a button-clasp?”
“Okay, Mr. Mill’s Fleet Farm, just pinch-” Hardison tensed. “Too fucking hard! Now tug it out.” Now that he thought about it, it probably would’ve been easier if he had just asked Eliot to release his hands. But for some reason Hardison didn’t want to examine too closely, it was just way hotter being under Eliot’s control. Even if the man was mutilating his clasps.
Eliot managed to pull Hardison’s jeans and boxers down to his thighs before losing patience and attacking Hardison’s mouth, swallowing the choked fuck yeah, baby … oh God, as Hardison’s bare cock met the material of Eliot’s pants.
“Fuck,” Hardison emphasized his statement with a desperate nip to the corner of Eliot’s mouth. “I’m not going to get a rugburn on my dick. Take off your fucking-”
“Mouthy,” Eliot said darkly, but complied, reaching down with his free hand and tugging his cock out. Hardison all but whimpered when Eliot’s large, warm hand enclosed both of their erections and started jacking them hard and fast.
“Yes, yes, Eliot, God, fucking, yes,” Hardison chanted, his toes curling in his sneakers as he tried to ride the motion of Eliot’s hand. It was beautiful, a fucking work of art. Eliot’s callused palm slicked with pre-come, the extra twist he put in his strokes that made Hardison see stars. God, Hardison wanted to steal him away and lock him somewhere where they could fuck all day.
Although he knew Eliot would give him shit about it forever, Hardison couldn’t help coming first, screaming through a clenched jaw as Eliot sank his teeth above his collarbone. Eliot’s hand squeezed out every drop of come until it smeared between their shirts and Hardison’s cock began to throb with painful oversensitivity.
“Fucking come, already, man.” That was not a sob in his voice. Hardison hissed trying to buck Eliot’s hand off and largely failing. “Can’t- too much-“
“You’ll take what I give you.” Eliot growled, still very much in character even as he brutally jacked their cocks three more times, lifting Hardison’s ass of the floor as he came all over their already-ruined clothing.
Hardison was completely boneless, sated with pleasure, so he felt charitable enough to let Eliot crush him into the floor with his ridiculously dense body. Eventually, however, he had to breathe. With a bit of kicking, and nipple-twisting, he made Eliot roll off, and they lay beside each other, panting in the sex-soaked air.
“This was a vintage t-shirt, you know,” Hardison complained drowsily, shifting slowly against Eliot’s side now that he didn’t feel so hot anymore.
“What?”
“Star Trek, 1985 convention in Dallas. Limited edition. You just stained $150 of history with your come.”
“Is that in nerd-dollars or real money?” Eliot slung one hand over Hardison’s shoulders, petting at his bruised wrists. His version of post-coital cuddling.
“Fuck you, man.” Hardison closed his eyes and stretched out, halfway to falling asleep on the cool wood floor until a stray thought made him laugh.
Without opening his eyes, Eliot grumbled, “What now?”
“No, I’m just thinking … Skittles? I mean,” Hardison raised himself on one elbow. “I know we’ve talked about the surprise rough sex thing, but really?”
“You mean you didn’t take them?” Eliot blinked, lifting his head. It was probably a very, very bad idea to tell him how adorably confused he looked, with his rumpled hair all out of place and his lips all swollen. A bad idea indeed, if Hardison wanted to keep his fingers. “I just thought … when I saw them gone, that you wanted … you know …”
“Naw, man.” Hardison thumped Eliot’s shoulder like a pillow before laying his head on it. “That’s some subtle shit. You know I don’t do subtle.”
Outside their window, ten stories above the street level, Parker snapped her camcorder shut and climbed back onto the roof. Sure, she thought, as she played the footage back while swinging her feet off the ledge, she could have just used one of Hardison’s tiny cameras and spared herself the work. Might have been better picture, too.
But some jobs were so much sweeter when done personally. Parker smiled and popped a red skittle into her mouth.
Author:
silverfoxflower Fandom: Leverage
Genre: PWP, Slash, Humor
Word Count: ~1400
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Rough sex, slah. No spoilers.
Notes: Fills the "Held Down" square of my
kink_bingo . See my card here. Beta'd by lemposoi and kisahawklin , and all mistakes are mine.Summary: Eliot is convinced Hardison stole his Skittles. Clearly, punishment is in order.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
“Skittles.”
Hardison flailed under Eliot’s grip, breathing fast and shallow around the forearm lodged in his windpipe. His dropped plate spun to a slow stop on the floor as he struggled against the wall. “What?”
“My. Skittles.” Eliot’s eyes narrowed. “Where are they?”
“Man, I don’t know nothing about-“ Hardison snapped his mouth shut as Eliot growled in his face. “What, your blood sugar crash or something?” he asked weakly.
“I just don’t stand for people touching my stuff.” It shouldn’t have been hot, the way Eliot effortlessly dropped him. For a second, Hardison thought he’d be down and out, but when he opened his eyes, the floor was close enough to kiss and Eliot was pushing him down with a minimal of bruising. Then he straddled Hardison, capturing both of his wrists in one hand and started feeling his way down Hardison’s body with the other. “If you have them on you, I’ll find them.”
Hardison yelped as he felt a hand cup his balls and give a not-so-gentle squeeze. “You think I hid your Skittles in my crotch? Get your fingers out of there!”
Nevermind that his cock didn’t seem as outraged as his brain. In fact, it was stirring against Eliot’s firm palm, whining for more contact.
“You must have eaten them. Open your mouth.” Eliot hissed.
Hardison honestly couldn’t think of a comeback, so he obeyed.
“Smells sweet …” Eliot murmured suspiciously before sealing his lips over Hardison’s. Immediately, Eliot’s tongue came into play, running over every inch Hardison’s mouth as if determined to seek out a specific flavor.
Hardison moaned, and he told himself it was in protest, not in arousal. His cock, the treacherous fucker, disagreed, straining against the fly of Hardison’s jeans, drooling pre-come against the dark denim.
“You ate them.” Eliot pulled back, licking his lips. The look in his eyes was positively dangerous.
“Look, no,” Hardison protested weakly, ignoring the voice in his head that wanted to admit to a crime he did not commit just to see if Eliot would really take him over his lap and spank him. Hardison hated that masochistic head-voice. “This is all a big mistake … I just drank a can of orange soda and-“
“So you hid them.” Eliot smiled triumphantly.
“No, listen.”
“My candy, from my secret stash. Only you know where it is because I showed you.” Eliot pressed his body firmly against Hardison’s allowing the other man to feel the couple hundred pounds of muscle pinning him to the floor.
Again. Shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. Did you eat them or did you hide them?” Tonguing slowly up the side of Hardison’s quivering jaw, Eliot nipped at his earlobe. “Punishment, or interrogation. You decide.”
Hardison was panting although his windpipe had long been freed. Helplessly, he tugged at his hands, but they were held fast, his legs similarly trapped by Eliot’s knees. His cock throbbed in time to the beating of his heart, pressed against Eliot’s muscular thigh and loving every minute of it.
Then, Eliot began to rock, his own erection digging into Hardison’s hip.
“P-punishment!” Hardison choked out, right before Eliot’s mouth descended again on his own.
Eliot traded hands, keeping Hardison’s wrists pinned to the ground as his he slowly slid up his shirt, trailing blunt nails against his skin and thumbing a nipple. Hardison responded with a low groan and a frantic movement with his hips, rutting desperately, as if trying to burrow through two layers of clothing.
The heel of Eliot’s hand provided sweet relief when it traveled downwards and pressed down on Hardison’s cock, firm and almost- fuck, perfect. Hardison almost wept when Eliot shifted his attention to fumbling with Hardison’s jeans.
After two fruitless minutes, Eliot had to pull away from their kiss to look downwards. “You have a padlock on these things?”
Hissing with frustration, Hardison tried to grind against Eliot’s fingers, wrist, anything to bring him closer to relief. “Man can crack safes but can’t work three button-clasps and a zipper.”
“What the fuck is a button-clasp?”
“Okay, Mr. Mill’s Fleet Farm, just pinch-” Hardison tensed. “Too fucking hard! Now tug it out.” Now that he thought about it, it probably would’ve been easier if he had just asked Eliot to release his hands. But for some reason Hardison didn’t want to examine too closely, it was just way hotter being under Eliot’s control. Even if the man was mutilating his clasps.
Eliot managed to pull Hardison’s jeans and boxers down to his thighs before losing patience and attacking Hardison’s mouth, swallowing the choked fuck yeah, baby … oh God, as Hardison’s bare cock met the material of Eliot’s pants.
“Fuck,” Hardison emphasized his statement with a desperate nip to the corner of Eliot’s mouth. “I’m not going to get a rugburn on my dick. Take off your fucking-”
“Mouthy,” Eliot said darkly, but complied, reaching down with his free hand and tugging his cock out. Hardison all but whimpered when Eliot’s large, warm hand enclosed both of their erections and started jacking them hard and fast.
“Yes, yes, Eliot, God, fucking, yes,” Hardison chanted, his toes curling in his sneakers as he tried to ride the motion of Eliot’s hand. It was beautiful, a fucking work of art. Eliot’s callused palm slicked with pre-come, the extra twist he put in his strokes that made Hardison see stars. God, Hardison wanted to steal him away and lock him somewhere where they could fuck all day.
Although he knew Eliot would give him shit about it forever, Hardison couldn’t help coming first, screaming through a clenched jaw as Eliot sank his teeth above his collarbone. Eliot’s hand squeezed out every drop of come until it smeared between their shirts and Hardison’s cock began to throb with painful oversensitivity.
“Fucking come, already, man.” That was not a sob in his voice. Hardison hissed trying to buck Eliot’s hand off and largely failing. “Can’t- too much-“
“You’ll take what I give you.” Eliot growled, still very much in character even as he brutally jacked their cocks three more times, lifting Hardison’s ass of the floor as he came all over their already-ruined clothing.
Hardison was completely boneless, sated with pleasure, so he felt charitable enough to let Eliot crush him into the floor with his ridiculously dense body. Eventually, however, he had to breathe. With a bit of kicking, and nipple-twisting, he made Eliot roll off, and they lay beside each other, panting in the sex-soaked air.
“This was a vintage t-shirt, you know,” Hardison complained drowsily, shifting slowly against Eliot’s side now that he didn’t feel so hot anymore.
“What?”
“Star Trek, 1985 convention in Dallas. Limited edition. You just stained $150 of history with your come.”
“Is that in nerd-dollars or real money?” Eliot slung one hand over Hardison’s shoulders, petting at his bruised wrists. His version of post-coital cuddling.
“Fuck you, man.” Hardison closed his eyes and stretched out, halfway to falling asleep on the cool wood floor until a stray thought made him laugh.
Without opening his eyes, Eliot grumbled, “What now?”
“No, I’m just thinking … Skittles? I mean,” Hardison raised himself on one elbow. “I know we’ve talked about the surprise rough sex thing, but really?”
“You mean you didn’t take them?” Eliot blinked, lifting his head. It was probably a very, very bad idea to tell him how adorably confused he looked, with his rumpled hair all out of place and his lips all swollen. A bad idea indeed, if Hardison wanted to keep his fingers. “I just thought … when I saw them gone, that you wanted … you know …”
“Naw, man.” Hardison thumped Eliot’s shoulder like a pillow before laying his head on it. “That’s some subtle shit. You know I don’t do subtle.”
Outside their window, ten stories above the street level, Parker snapped her camcorder shut and climbed back onto the roof. Sure, she thought, as she played the footage back while swinging her feet off the ledge, she could have just used one of Hardison’s tiny cameras and spared herself the work. Might have been better picture, too.
But some jobs were so much sweeter when done personally. Parker smiled and popped a red skittle into her mouth.