Home
Title: Home
Author: kaylynnkie
Disclaimer: Not mine
Pairing: Nate/Eliot
Summary: He always comes back when it's time
Word Count: 1,250
Warnings/Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for wendyr 's prompt over at comment_fic ; “Leverage, Nate/Eliot, It had never been about catching Eliot, which is why Nate always let him go. Ending up together was just a bonus, because Eliot's more of an addiction than the alcohol.”
It was just before Christmas, and the team had decided that a vacation was in order. Parker and Hardison had gone off to Canada, where he was trying to talk her into not stealing the ornate gold foiled sculptures that adorned each stairwell and that sometimes it was okay to pay for things if it was a vacation. Sophie had headed off to Europe not divulging exactly where but was sure to leave a number that could be used to contact her at any time. No one was sure where Eliot had gone.
Nate was in Boston, specifically he was sitting down in a cafe on the second floor of a Barnes & Noble with a cup of coffee and his laptop. He wasn't doing any work though, instead he looked out over the city. Snow was falling down in swirling patterns and people bustled by with scarfs and coats, talking excitedly and shopping with enthusiasm. All the best sales were coming to an end. Christmas shopping was on the agenda. Nate had done all of his shopping, being the detail oriented man that he was and had even mailed a sculpted phoenix to Maggie. A smile crossed his face as he thought of her, and he sipped his coffee.
He jumped when a soft fabric caressed his cheek. He looked down to find that a thick black scarf was being draped around his neck.
“You should know better.” A southern drawl melts the words over him.
“I need a reminder every now and then I suppose.”
Nate grins at the scarf and looks up to see Eliot seated across from him, pretending to look out the window. His eyes skip from possible exit to possible exit, across the line of windows and then to the escalator and stairwell in the middle of the store.
He knows better than to ask where Eliot has been.
“It's almost Christmas,” he says instead.
Eliot nods and reached over to take a sip of the coffee Nate had on the table. His face twists.
“This is fucking disgusting.”
Nate smiles. “I know.”
He doesn't say anything more, but he's grinning ear to ear, and Nate knows Eliot came back for him.
On Christmas Eve, Eliot is in the kitchen and the apartment smells like cranberries and roast beef. Nate's in the living room, which is far enough away not to be a nuisance but close enough that Eliot doesn't have to be concerned about where exactly the other man is when he's finished cooking. The roast will slow cook overnight, and as Eliot puts the preparations for tomorrow's meal in the fridge, Nate can't help but fidget in anticipation. It has been an awfully long time since it was just him and Eliot.
“I don't know what to say.” Nate bows his head down when Eliot sits on the table in front of him. The TV is a soft hum in the background.
“Then don' say anythin',” he whispers.
The bed is neat and made when they fall into it. Eliot whines softly in his throat when Nate kisses him and pins his wrists down on the mattress.
“No fair.”
Nate grins. “I never said I played fair, did I?”
Eliot's chuckle dissolves into depserate whimpers and cries when the other man lowers his mouth to kiss and nip at the soft flesh of his pelvic bone before moving on to the soft flesh of his thigh. It doesn't take long for Nate to wreck him. His hair is plastered to his face with sweat and his breath comes in harsh pants. His cock is hard and leaking but Nate only grips him loosely without any real intent and prevents him from getting any real friction. He's naked and Nate still has on all of his clothes. It's frustrating and sexy all in the same moment.
“Control freak,” he bites out affectionately.
Wet fingers press into him so slowly, there's not even a chance for a burning sensation. He clutches at Nate's shirt and fists the back of it.
“Missed. You. So. Much.” He punctuates each word with a brutal thrust of his fingers.
Eliot grunts with pleasure. The thrusts are shallow, but the pleasure still spikes through him.
“Sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry,” he whines in desperation and buries his face against Nate's chest.
The other man showers his neck with kisses and reaches behind his knees to pull his legs wide apart. Nate's jeans are unzipped, and Eliot reaches over to tug them further down.
“Yes. God. Yes, please!”
The bottle of lube clatters back onto the bedside table, and Eliot arches backwards when the blunt head of his lover's cock penetrates him. It's slow and tender, everything Eliot's not, and possessive in a way that's uniquely Nate. When he comes, it's slow and burning, an ache that reaches down to the tips of his toes and lights his heart on fire.
“Nate!” He chants his lover's name over and over until he's shuddering and spent.
Dimly, he's aware of Nate coming, his sticky spending filling Eliot and seeping down his thighs. “I love you.”
Eliot smiles and tucks himself against Nate's side. “I know. Me, too.”
Dinner is the next evening is spent on the couch watching Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman. Eliot is leaning against Nate, and they are both hyper aware that there's a bottle of Schnapps in the cupboard. They go to bed after the last song Frosty sings, and Eliot's wiping at tears he will never admit to shedding.
Nate wakes up groggy and confused. The lamp on the nightstand is on, and after looking at it, he notes that the bottle of lube is running low.
“Where ya' goin'?” He draws the covers more tightly around himself.
Eliot is fully dress, a thick coat with a fur lining on despite the fact that Nate always keeps it well above seventy in the winter, and a duffel over his shoulder. His eyes widen, and they seem so blue in the semidarkness.
“Sweetheart, I didn't mean to wake you up.” He leans down and kisses Nate chastely. “I have to go.”
“Oh.”
“Don't be like that.”
Nate shakes his head. “I didn't mean it like that. I just..Was nice that you came back for Christmas.”
Eliot kisses him again. With tongue this time and laughs. “I'll be home on New Years.”
“M'kay.”
He watches Eliot leave, knowing better than to say be careful or hurry back. He knows Eliot will be back, and he has no doubt that when he checks the cabinet, the Schnapps will be gone. Chuckling, he drifts back into sleep. He can't be that angry right now. There will be roast beef sandwiches tomorrow with stuffing and butter. A smile appears on his face. Perhaps Eliot's hand wavers on the door just a fraction of a second too long and he looks back more than he's supposed to, but he know that Nate will let him go. He suspects it's because Nate knows he'll be back, and he'd admit it, too. It's just, well, Nate hasn't asked yet.
Author: kaylynnkie
Disclaimer: Not mine
Pairing: Nate/Eliot
Summary: He always comes back when it's time
Word Count: 1,250
Warnings/Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for wendyr 's prompt over at comment_fic ; “Leverage, Nate/Eliot, It had never been about catching Eliot, which is why Nate always let him go. Ending up together was just a bonus, because Eliot's more of an addiction than the alcohol.”
It was just before Christmas, and the team had decided that a vacation was in order. Parker and Hardison had gone off to Canada, where he was trying to talk her into not stealing the ornate gold foiled sculptures that adorned each stairwell and that sometimes it was okay to pay for things if it was a vacation. Sophie had headed off to Europe not divulging exactly where but was sure to leave a number that could be used to contact her at any time. No one was sure where Eliot had gone.
Nate was in Boston, specifically he was sitting down in a cafe on the second floor of a Barnes & Noble with a cup of coffee and his laptop. He wasn't doing any work though, instead he looked out over the city. Snow was falling down in swirling patterns and people bustled by with scarfs and coats, talking excitedly and shopping with enthusiasm. All the best sales were coming to an end. Christmas shopping was on the agenda. Nate had done all of his shopping, being the detail oriented man that he was and had even mailed a sculpted phoenix to Maggie. A smile crossed his face as he thought of her, and he sipped his coffee.
He jumped when a soft fabric caressed his cheek. He looked down to find that a thick black scarf was being draped around his neck.
“You should know better.” A southern drawl melts the words over him.
“I need a reminder every now and then I suppose.”
Nate grins at the scarf and looks up to see Eliot seated across from him, pretending to look out the window. His eyes skip from possible exit to possible exit, across the line of windows and then to the escalator and stairwell in the middle of the store.
He knows better than to ask where Eliot has been.
“It's almost Christmas,” he says instead.
Eliot nods and reached over to take a sip of the coffee Nate had on the table. His face twists.
“This is fucking disgusting.”
Nate smiles. “I know.”
He doesn't say anything more, but he's grinning ear to ear, and Nate knows Eliot came back for him.
On Christmas Eve, Eliot is in the kitchen and the apartment smells like cranberries and roast beef. Nate's in the living room, which is far enough away not to be a nuisance but close enough that Eliot doesn't have to be concerned about where exactly the other man is when he's finished cooking. The roast will slow cook overnight, and as Eliot puts the preparations for tomorrow's meal in the fridge, Nate can't help but fidget in anticipation. It has been an awfully long time since it was just him and Eliot.
“I don't know what to say.” Nate bows his head down when Eliot sits on the table in front of him. The TV is a soft hum in the background.
“Then don' say anythin',” he whispers.
The bed is neat and made when they fall into it. Eliot whines softly in his throat when Nate kisses him and pins his wrists down on the mattress.
“No fair.”
Nate grins. “I never said I played fair, did I?”
Eliot's chuckle dissolves into depserate whimpers and cries when the other man lowers his mouth to kiss and nip at the soft flesh of his pelvic bone before moving on to the soft flesh of his thigh. It doesn't take long for Nate to wreck him. His hair is plastered to his face with sweat and his breath comes in harsh pants. His cock is hard and leaking but Nate only grips him loosely without any real intent and prevents him from getting any real friction. He's naked and Nate still has on all of his clothes. It's frustrating and sexy all in the same moment.
“Control freak,” he bites out affectionately.
Wet fingers press into him so slowly, there's not even a chance for a burning sensation. He clutches at Nate's shirt and fists the back of it.
“Missed. You. So. Much.” He punctuates each word with a brutal thrust of his fingers.
Eliot grunts with pleasure. The thrusts are shallow, but the pleasure still spikes through him.
“Sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry,” he whines in desperation and buries his face against Nate's chest.
The other man showers his neck with kisses and reaches behind his knees to pull his legs wide apart. Nate's jeans are unzipped, and Eliot reaches over to tug them further down.
“Yes. God. Yes, please!”
The bottle of lube clatters back onto the bedside table, and Eliot arches backwards when the blunt head of his lover's cock penetrates him. It's slow and tender, everything Eliot's not, and possessive in a way that's uniquely Nate. When he comes, it's slow and burning, an ache that reaches down to the tips of his toes and lights his heart on fire.
“Nate!” He chants his lover's name over and over until he's shuddering and spent.
Dimly, he's aware of Nate coming, his sticky spending filling Eliot and seeping down his thighs. “I love you.”
Eliot smiles and tucks himself against Nate's side. “I know. Me, too.”
Dinner is the next evening is spent on the couch watching Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman. Eliot is leaning against Nate, and they are both hyper aware that there's a bottle of Schnapps in the cupboard. They go to bed after the last song Frosty sings, and Eliot's wiping at tears he will never admit to shedding.
Nate wakes up groggy and confused. The lamp on the nightstand is on, and after looking at it, he notes that the bottle of lube is running low.
“Where ya' goin'?” He draws the covers more tightly around himself.
Eliot is fully dress, a thick coat with a fur lining on despite the fact that Nate always keeps it well above seventy in the winter, and a duffel over his shoulder. His eyes widen, and they seem so blue in the semidarkness.
“Sweetheart, I didn't mean to wake you up.” He leans down and kisses Nate chastely. “I have to go.”
“Oh.”
“Don't be like that.”
Nate shakes his head. “I didn't mean it like that. I just..Was nice that you came back for Christmas.”
Eliot kisses him again. With tongue this time and laughs. “I'll be home on New Years.”
“M'kay.”
He watches Eliot leave, knowing better than to say be careful or hurry back. He knows Eliot will be back, and he has no doubt that when he checks the cabinet, the Schnapps will be gone. Chuckling, he drifts back into sleep. He can't be that angry right now. There will be roast beef sandwiches tomorrow with stuffing and butter. A smile appears on his face. Perhaps Eliot's hand wavers on the door just a fraction of a second too long and he looks back more than he's supposed to, but he know that Nate will let him go. He suspects it's because Nate knows he'll be back, and he'd admit it, too. It's just, well, Nate hasn't asked yet.