FIC: The Vacation Job (Nate/Eliot - FRAO - 1/1)
Title: The Vacation Job
Author/Artist: Sam-Tony/HawkDancing
Giftee: Cassie/bad falcon
Pairing: Nate/Eliot
Rating: FRAO - slash, sex, kink, spanking, D/s
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made.
--
Summary: Trust Sophie to find them a job on their days off.
--
A/N: Not exactly what I wanted, but Sub refused to make up his mind as to which bunny he wanted to feed and foster. This one? None of the above. ::sighs and glares at the snickering bunny:: Though I *am* still working on the darker of the two bunnies this exchange originally called up.
--
A/N 2: Written for the Leverage Fic Exchange - Prompts/requests - kink, wings, spanking, leather, Eliot fighting, team!fic (6/6)…So, SO sorry this is late. L
--
The Vacation Job
--
It was one of those soft summer days where the light breeze that skimmed over the ocean barely disturbed the warmth of the sun, beating down gently on his bare skin. Perfect, bright. Heaven on Earth.
Lightly dozing in the heat, his body a comfortable jumble of exhausted and sore, Eliot shifted his arms above his hand, spreading his legs and digging his toes in the sand, hissing in pleasure as his nipples panged at the slight scrape of terrycloth between him and the beach.
It brought back the night before (and the morning after) so Eliot shifted again, just to experience that dark bite of almost-pain along with the others, feeling and thoroughly enjoying the heavy, burning ache that accompanied the movement. Settled deep inside his ass, heavy and languid, the sharp little reminders of the marathon possession were mild, yet vivid enough, that the hitter was damned near purring in satisfaction.
He didn’t mind pain; it was just all in context. Like knives. And people. Like Nate’s body inside of him, pressing him down; hard, sharp thrusts sending him scrambling around the extra large bed…or the extra burn on the bare globes of his ass that spoke of light bruises from the repeated, methodical drive of the belt and the more irregular outline of Nate’s bare hand. The one was to break him, the other was…well, to break him.
Eliot did find himself purring at that memory…
…candles wafting out a light scent combining with the salt and sand of the ocean fluttering the curtains from the open window, the tiny flames softening the darkness as Eliot lay draped over Nate’s lap, the skin and light hairs of the bare legs tickling his belly, his ass held high in the air, waiting for the first smack that would send him to that space in his head where he could let it all go and just let someone else take care of him for a change…
Eliot rubbed his nose against the back of one crossed forearm, sighing in pure contentment. The best part of it was he had nothing but two weeks of the same peace and quiet and bone deep sexual satisfaction to look forward to. Sophie wasn’t the only one who could buy luxury little villas on a quiet European beach…
“Well you look like that cat that got the canary,” the smooth voice smiled above him.
Turning his head sideways, Eliot smirked into the gray-blue eyes sparkling at him, asserting smugly, “More like the cream. What’re you doin’ up? Figured you’d still be sleepin’.”
“And here I figured you would be the one still sleeping,” Nate accused with a mild look, still smiling, fingers of one hand brushing back the long, damp strands of his hair in order to better see his face. When they started carding through it, Eliot felt his eyes close in appreciation. “Last night was all you. So was this morning.”
Eliot smiled and settled back into his towel, satisfaction still singing heavily in his blood. “Yeah.”
“Yeah.” Nate’s voice was happy, content. Well for that matter, so was Eliot. “Need anything? I’m gonna go change. Grab a drink.”
“Water, please,” he admitted.
“What’s that? Apple juice and a sandwich? Coming right up.”
The roll of his eyes at the mother-henning turned into a low moan at the swat that fell on his abused ass, Nate chuckling evilly as he made his way back up the stairs while Eliot wriggled to get more of that deliciously used feeling.
“I saw that!”
Burying his nose in his arms with a chuckle, Eliot relaxed into the sand and sighed as his body once again grew heavy, the sun and the low roar of the waves once more lulling him into a light doze.
Sun, sand, sea and mind blowing kinky sex with Nate; someone he trusted with his money, his life - his more embarrassing secrets.
Life could not possibly get any better than this.
--
“Ooooh - oh, *my*God - “
Stiffening at the first sound of that voice, Eliot woke with a start, eyes snapping open on the pale sand and blue terry of the towel he lay on. The next second he closed them again and cursed. What the hell was he doing here? “*Dam*mit Hardison!”
“On no - no no no - you are *not* yellin’ at me when you’re - “
Comfortable. Naked. Comfortably naked? Well, he *had* been comfortably naked…
“Whaddaya want?” He was *not* moving. Definitely not.
“Well, for one - ah, you. In clothes. You *do* know you’re layin’ here buck-assed nekkid out in the general public, right?”
“You *do* know it’s a nude beach and you’re blockin’ m’sun, right?” Eliot returned, glaring, just to see that lone eyebrow rise in disbelief, though the hacker *did* shift slightly to his left, clearing the way for the sun to once more shine on Eliot’s ass.
Damn. Just how vivid were those bruises, anyway?
“Eliot? Who’re you - oh. Crap.”
Well that was one way to put it.
Eliot fought to keep from rolling his eyes and briefly wondered if he stood up, if Hardison would backpeddle and leave, horrified and blushing, until Eliot got dressed.
Sophie’s voice, high and suspicious, decided him probably not.
Damn damn damn.
“Nate? What are you doing here?”
“Getting a drink, I was invited,” Nate told her pointedly. “You?”
“Me? Well I was visiting Paris - “
“Of course you were.”
“ - and I heard about the villa here…Nate, what are you wearing?”
“Um, it’s called a towel?”
“Aw, no - no. *Please* tell me you got somethin’ on under that towel.”
“If I say no will you guys go away?” Nate asked.
Eliot squinted up into the sun and watched as Hardison looked to Parker and Sophie, the two women shaking their heads. “Ah - not really, no?”
Nate sighed, clearly put upon as he set down the tray and yanked off the towel…
To reveal a very respectable pair of swim trunks underneath in a tasteful combination of black and gray.
Eliot snickered at Hardison’s horrified intake of breath, immediately released in relief and a comical clutching of his chest as Nate descended the deck stairs to the beach, smirking.
“Your sandwich and juice.”
“Thanks.” Taking the snack, Eliot set them out of the way on his right before peering back up into the sun at the trio standing in the sand. Given the focused way Parker was staring at his backside and the speculative look on Sophie’s face, yeah he definitely wasn’t moving anytime soon.
“So,” Nate spoke again, this time the warning perfectly clear in the pointed tone. “What are you doing here?”
--
“A con? Are you kidding me?”
“Are you listening? Nate, the Hartford’s contacted our offices two days ago, looking for our help,” Sophie repeated, exasperated. “*Needing* our help. Their daughter disappeared from her hotel in Venice three days ago. Hardison tracked the men who took her to Flanders’ villa as recently as last night. We have everything we need to do the job, except…”
Now her voice trailed off, confidence waning as the grifter looked to the others for help.
“Except? Tell me, Sophie, just what does this con entail?” Nate transferred his gaze from the grifter to the hacker with a mild glare. “You know; on my days off?”
“Oh, ah, well - Sophie, she got us a way in, but…one of you would have to be in leather - I mean, I’m, you know, thinkin’ Eliot, ‘cause, well - anyway, yeah. Oh, and wings.”
Nate blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say wings?”
Hardison scratched the back of his head, looking anywhere but at Nate. “Uh, well - I mean, yeah - I mean, well - “
Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. “While I’m still young enough to hear it, Hardison.”
“Flanders, see, he likes throwing these…parties…that…ah…thatsometimesinvolvesubmissiveswearingcostumes…”
It took a moment to figure all that out, Eliot just beating Nate to the revelation, burying his head in his arms with a groan.
“And, of course, you immediately thought me and Eliot.” The flat delivery was mild, made to draw out a confession. Eliot knew that tone; it usually meant someone had some explaining to do, or a mark was about to go down and was too stupid to know it.
“Well, *yeah*,” Sophie huffed, clearly not willing to entrust any further explanations to the hacker, turning the most interesting shade of fire engine red. “I mean seriously Nate, who do the two of you think you’re fooling anyway? I‘ve seen what‘s under your bed.”
“You - wait, what?” Nate started, only to pull up short, blinking at the rest of the accusation. “What were you doing under my bed?”
“Can we *please* focus?” Sophie insisted, changing the subject. “Are we going to help these people or not?”
“Eliot?” And damn if Eliot couldn’t tell by the slight perk of interest in the speculative tone that Nate was considering it.
“I think I need a drink.”
“Oh, so *that’s* why you don’t have any tan lines,” Parker chose that moment to speak up, chortling in sudden glee.
Eliot knocked his head down into the sand a couple of times, repeating with a resigned sigh, “Seriously. Just being the bottle.”
--
Turned out both of them were in leather; Nate wearing a heavy black silk shirt hanging loose over the equally expensive, black leather pants. Eliot had the pants, just not the shirt, wearing instead a black leather harness across his chest with a pair of fluffy white wings hanging from the back, though the villa, made of stone and natural tile, was comfortably warm against his bare feet, the windows open to let in the cool night air coming in off the ocean.
At least he had had the pants until making it to this portion of the evening; this section of the party reserved for business associates only. Or future business associates. Like somewhat shady entrepreneur Tom Baker and his - companion - Adam Sinclair. Slaves and submissives were strictly kept to costumes only, though no actual clothes. One look at Nate and Eliot handed his over without a fight.
Nothing for him to do now but ignore his nakedness and observe.
Setting himself up for a long wait on his knees, Eliot closed his eyes in a way that let him survey the candlelit shadows of the dimly lit room and leaned into the butter soft leather of Nate’s leg, enjoying the feel of the slender fingers as Nate toyed through his hair. The Scene of both last night and this morning still so close to the surface, he found it easy to slip into the role of pet.
Kneeling on the floor at the older man’s feet, the leather of Nate’s pants slick against his cheek, feathers soft and warm, scratching lightly against his back…
…Nate’s hand on the back of his neck just over the collar he wore, held cupped and possessive under the loose fall of his hair…
…the heavy blanket of knowing Nate was showing off his ownership and Eliot enjoying every adrenaline-filled moment of it…
…feeling the weight and prickling heat of strange eyes on him, caressing his skin, wanting to take him, use him; not knowing whether or not Nate felt like sharing…or might need to share before the night was over…
Oh yeah, Eliot could definitely get used to working this kind of job on his days off. Though Hardison was handing over every last copy of the video if Eliot had to strangle him.
--
“Just too freaky weird,” Hardison protested, shaking his head while trying not to stare at the video screen, the mark’s own security tapped into and providing footage of the entire party. Trying not to stare at *Eliot*, looking all too like a pampered pet and not the dangerous hitter they all knew him to be. I mean, muscles aside, the man sitting comfortably at Nate’s feet was definitely not someone you would take as a serious threat. The demeanor was just…all *wrong*…
Sophie and Parker looked at each other, agreeing with a nod and another kernel of popcorn. “Hot.”
--
Halfway through the night when one of the invited guests decided to break the rules and tried to take Eliot into one of the back rooms, despite Nate’s polite yet firm refusal, Eliot didn’t have time to wonder if Nate would give in, or if he would need to think of defending the both of them if it came to that…Nate took care of that himself with a ruthless, decisive jab to the poor bastard’s nose, breaking it and spurting blood all over the schmuck’s fancy white shirt.
Funny that that was the thing that got them invited to the host’s table. Apparently Flanders really *didn’t* like his brother-in-law.
--
“So how many units are we talking about,” Nate asked.
Leaning forward withdrew his hand from the silky weight of Eliot’s hair, though the younger man automatically compensated by shifting forward himself. “I have this…well, problem I’ve been putting off dealing with and it would help, knowing I would have a place I could drop them that they would…neatly disappear into the shadows. If you get my meaning.”
“Oh I expect I do, Mister Baker.” Flanders smiled, the twitch of his lips sharply amused in the dim lighting. “In fact, I think we have just the…agency to take the entire…problem,” he nodded shallowly at Nate, “off of your hands.”
“That would be most excellent, Mister Flanders,” Nate smiled back, the sip of bourbon he took necessary to erase the taste of bile from the back of his throat. The trap was set, now all they needed was the code to Flanders office.
Time to go steal the black market slave trade.
“Good, good. Shall we talk in my office?”
Nate allowed the smile to harden, lips stretched over teeth. “Let’s.”
--
Business most satisfactorily completed, they were just about to leave when Flanders got his first good look at Eliot’s ass, the hitter never having allowed his back to the man until now.
“Bruises?”
“We were…playing…this morning,” Nate droned, obviously unconcerned with the marks Flanders saw, the small, vague bruises from the belt deepened to near black in the mundane lighting of a very business-like office. “And I do so like to play. Is that going to be a problem?’ he asked.
Only to receive a polite shark’s smile, the bland stretch of lips over teeth moving from Eliot’s bare backside finally reaching Nate’s eyes a moment or two too long to be *that* polite. “No, no problem at all, Mister Baker. You have very nice…playthings.”
“Thank you.” Nate’s hand tightened on the back of Eliot’s neck, steering the tight body toward the door as they exited back to the main room. Hardison had found Rebecca Hartford on the security feed from the basement. Time to slip Flanders’ leash and let Eliot do his job, and Parker do hers. “Did I hear someone mention a wet bar?”
--
“Parker. Go.”
--
Inside the van, the blond thief gave a wolfish grin at Eliot’s harsh growl and slipped out into the night. Less than a breath later, she was out of sight, even though Hardison had been watching her go. Seconds after that, Hardison picked her back up on the security monitor, safe and sound - and undetected - in Flanders office.
“Well, damn.”
--
Eliot was used to busting heads; it was his job after all, and he was damned good at it.
He just wasn’t used to cracking skulls and breaking kneecaps wearing nothing but a collar around his neck - the harness with the wings having been discarded as a hindrance the second Eliot had slipped away from the party. Especially when dealing with the four men standing guard in front of a fairly impressive door at the end of a well-lit hallway. No way to hide, they had definitely seen him coming.
Parker giggled, slipping past him on her way to pick the lock. Locks.
Eliot stiffened, feeling the ghost of a touch on his ass. Did she just…?
“She did,“ Nate leaned in close to whisper. “And that was very…impressive.”
“Shut up, “ Eliot grumbled, blush working its way up to his hairline as he stripped one of the now unconscious guards, hopping to drag the pants on before Parker let all the kids free.
--
“Local authorities have the files Parker downloaded off of Flanders’ computer?” Nate asked, bringing the glass of scotch to his lips, ice tinkling against the sides.
The Hartford’s daughter had been dropped off at the local hospital where her parents had been waiting, a little worse for wear but essentially unharmed, and that was the most important thing; the second being the files Hardison would have forwarded on to the locals. Anonymously, and from an untraceable ISP, of course.
“Oh yeah,” Hardison grinned, white teeth shockingly wide in the dark face. “Come this time tomorrow, if the man ain’t behind bars, I’ll eat my soda bottle.”
“More like dead in an alley somewhere,” Eliot growled. “Man like that has as many enemies outside the cops as in ‘em.”
All eyes turned on the hitter, dressed now in a worn pair of threadbare jeans and white button up shirt. Normal, which Hardison definitely appreciated. Eliot shrugged. “I’m just sayin’ buncha his friends may not like it if the man started talkin’ to the cops.”
“Hmmm,” Nate nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, they may want to eliminate the possible risk of exposure to their organization by taking out the threat themselves.”
“Either way Flanders’ setup’s in chaos,” Eliot pointed out, and this time there was grim satisfaction in the low rumble as he sat on the arm of the couch beside Parker. “He won’t be sellin’ human bein’s anytime soon. If he lives. Where did you get that?” he asked, suddenly noticing the object Parker was paying with. The last time he saw that clear quartz globe, it had been on… ”You stole that from Flanders’ office?”
“Well, yeah,” the thief shrugged, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like he’s going to be needing it. And it was shiny.”
Eliot huffed in frustration. “Parker - “
“Right.” Looking up from the amber liquid swirling in his glass, Nate took control of the impending argument, nodding once, firmly, and commanded, “We got the bad guy, drained his bank accounts, saved the girl - now, all of you, get out. It’s been a long night and I’m still - technically - on vacation. Go home. Or go away, I don’t care, but just go.”
No one moved. Eliot cast the room an amused chuckle as Nate shifted on his feet and frowned at them all. It wasn’t until the pointed “Good night” that Parker grabbed a hold of Eliot’s knee through the hole in the denim, nearly toppling him off the arm while levering herself up off the couch, pulling Hardison up with her.
“Parker!”
“Night!” She called out cheerfully, slipping through the deck doors and down onto the sand of the beach still carrying what was, for her, the night‘s treasure.
Sophie rose more slowly, her dark gazed wavering between them as if weighing her options. “Right, well. I suppose I should be going as well. No telling what shops I might find to decimate tomorrow. Doubt the two of you would like to come along.”
“Doubtful,” Nate echoed, small smile held firmly behind the rim of his glass as she forcefully refrained from glancing back down the hall at the darkened bedroom. If she truly had been snooping under his bed, she would know they would have their own celebration of a job well done just as soon as she left. “I’m sure we’ll be otherwise occupied,“ he told her. “Goodnight, Sophie.”
“Yes, well. Goodnight, Nate. Eliot.”
“’Night, Sophie.”
Sliding off the arm of the couch, Eliot went over to where Nate stood, now firmly locking the doors to the deck where Sophie had followed the others. Still. It wasn’t as if Parker couldn’t pick them in less than a heartbeat, if she wanted to.
“That was mean,” he told him, taking the glass from Nate’s hands; the glass he drained himself, the ice clinking at the bottom loud in the silence as Eliot set it gently on the table.
“But necessary,” Nate nodded, arms wrapping around the hitter to rest lightly against the warm skin under the white shirt.
“Yeah,” Eliot admitted easily. Slowly taking the fingers of the injured right hand into his mouth one at a time - it was painfully obvious Nate wasn’t used to hitting people - Eliot looked up at the dazed and lust-filled gaze and suggested evilly, “You gonna have your wicked way with me now?” he asked.
Purring smugly as Nate’s other hand moved up to shift through his hair, curling around the back of his head and pulling him forward gently, Eliot smiled and obligingly leaned in closer, fitting their hips tightly together.
Just as their lips met, Nate firmly declared, “Absolutely. I have a couple candles with your name on them. Bring the ice.”
Eliot shivered at the dark promise, already anticipating all the ways he might need that ice and unable to decide on the one he wanted most.
“Oh and Eliot? Wear the wings.”
End