Fic: Insomnia
Title: Insomnia
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Parker/Eliot
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: "You can't just sneak into people's bedrooms in the middle of the night and demand that they have sex with you."
AN: paxlux said 'I DARE YOU TO WRITE PARKER/ELIOT!' So I did!
Eliot wakes up because Parker throws a pillow at him.
He's literally moving before he's even completely conscious, but Parker is just outside of reaction range, sat cross-legged at the end of his bed like some sort of insane burglar.
He aborts the movement three quarters of the way through.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he says angrily.
Parker pulls a face that's just readable in the darkness.
"I had to wake you up, I've been sitting her for five minutes already. I was getting bored."
"You were-" Eliot shoves his hair angrily out of his face. "Why are you here?
"I can't sleep," Parker provides.
Eliot raises an eyebrow at her, a not entirely happy one.
"Why is that my problem?" He flings back, irritated and too tired for Parker's special brand of crazy. Is anyone ever awake enough for Parker's special brand of crazy?
Parker's pokes at his sheets.
"I thought you could help me sleep."
Eliot scowls at her.
"What exactly do want me to do, read you a story? Make you some hot milk?"
Parker raises an eyebrow at him.
"That would be weird," she says simply.
"Still not my problem, go away and get your insomnia cured somewhere else." He lays down again, makes an irritated noise that's the final word on obnoxious company, then throws an arm over his face. "Go and harass Nate, or Sophie."
Parker grunts annoyance and there's a rustle of fabric and the bed dips again, shudders under the weight of Parker's hands and knees.
Eliot reluctantly moves his arm.
Parker has slithered out of her t-shirt and pants, and she's impossibly pale where she's leant over him, hair falling against the bare length of his chest in quick tickling trails.
"What the hell are you doing- are you naked?"
"Normally there's talking now and that's kind of boring, usually if I'm naked there's less talking and more sex," Parker explains.
"Parker!"
"Well there is." Her bare knees dig into the sheets and he can feel her through them, a half-warm shift-shift of skin and the rush of her breath against his jaw.
Jesus christ.
"What if I don't want to have sex with you," he says through his teeth.
"Do you?" she asks, which is entirely sensible but the fact that Parker chooses this exact moment to provide sensible questions is completely unfair.
"That's not the point."
"I think it kind of is," Parker decides, like he's the one that's missing something.
"You can't just sneak into people's bedrooms in the middle of the night and demand that they have sex with you."
Parker pulls another face, like the rules of polite society are confusing and shouldn't apply to her.
"Why not?"
"You just don't, it's just not something you do. You're at least supposed to ask or something."
Parker nods, like that's a fair point.
"Do you want to have sex with me Eliot?"
He really should know better than to make things simple with Parker by now. He can't think of a good reason to say no, but he's fairly sure it's a bad idea to admit to yes.
"It helps if you say yes, if you say no it's just awkward," Parker's voice is edging into irritated now, long arms folded over her breasts but not entirely managing to cover them, and it's really, really distracting.
She makes a curious face and raises an eyebrow.
"Unless you have some sort of horrible dysfunction-" she lifts the sheet up and peers down, like she's prepared to check, Eliot snatches it out of her hands.
"There is no horrible dysfunction," he snaps and then glares at her raised eyebrow.
When she curves and folds she's one naked pale line in the dark and he can't help, can't fucking help, the noise he makes.
The next time she tries to slip under the sheet he doesn't stop her. And he'll probably get into trouble over that later but, god help him, he doesn't stop her. She makes a noise of impatient triumph and slithers herself inside. Her bare skin is chilly and soft and if he wasn't awake before he definitely is now.
"Parker-" it's half protest and half something completely different.
Parker gives a soft relieved sigh when she finds him hard under the muscle of her thigh and Eliot's surprised by the clear evidence that she'd been, for a moment, uncertain.
Her thighs open around him then, knees balanced either side of his waist. Then her fingers find interesting places to brace herself on his chest and that one brief moment of self-assured greediness turns his protest into a noise that isn't anywhere close to unhappy.
"What about Hardison?"
Parker stills and frowns.
"What about him?"
Eliot isn't sure whether the pointed expression will work on Parker, but apparently she's been taking lessons in social interaction.
"Oh, I think he wants to buy me flowers or something first," Parker whispers, an edge of bewildered frustration in her voice.
Eliot's going to comment on that, but then she surprises him by leaning in, soft hands on his face, tipping it down.
She finds his mouth with her own.
Parker kisses like she might be told to stop at any moment, all enthusiasm and greed and curiosity. Eliot isn't sure whether he should try and join in or just let her do whatever she wants.
His hand ends up in her hair anyway, and it's soft and air chilled, she makes quiet cat-like noises when he pushes his hand up into it, but growls when his fingers tighten.
"You really are fierce aren't you," he murmurs into her open mouth and she grunts agreement.
He puts his hands on her, and she doesn't say no, doesn't bite him, she just slithers back and forth through them, narrow and stronger than she looks but still more than breakable. She slides up, presses briefly down into him, all warm, wet grind and then she slips up and back, and he ends up inside her in one steady shove.
"Jesus-" her waist gives under his fingers, soft where she's pushing down. Her fingertips are digging into his chest and she makes a soft satisfied noise deep in her throat that ends in something hard and shameless. He thinks he says her name again, though it mostly gets lost when she folds over and kisses him and this time she lets him join in, lets him scoop up great handfuls of her hair, while he pushes. She meets him without any urging, finds his rhythm effortlessly and dares him into something harder.
He's going to pretend he never thought this was a bad idea.
She's smiling against his mouth, little fiend that she is.
Just when he thinks he can catch her, can hold her there, she sways back, sits up straight, finds an angle she likes and takes it.
Eliot has no business complaining. Because the way her breasts move, just a little, every time she snaps her hips up, hair trailing the edges of her collarbone, dancing over the highest curves, in a way that's careless and fucking beautiful.
"You're good at this," she tells him, though he thinks he should be annoyed at the surprise in her voice.
He sits up, which gets him a murmur of appreciation and so much more of her bare skin to touch, which he does, because she lets him and she really is shameless in every movement. Not touching would be crazy.
He slides a hand down, to where skin and bone is pushing wet against his own and touches her, and she makes a breathless noise that's surprised and pleased, and then demanding.
"I like it rougher- yes, like that, that's good." Her eyes half shut, mouth opening just a little, flash of tongue at the edge of her lower lip, where she's breathing hard, and she's pushing more into his fingers than into him. Shuddering and clenching on every press down.
"You're greedy, you know that," he growls into her mouth. Though it doesn't sound anything like a complaint. His voice is all breath and ferocity around the words.
"Nearly," she protests, as though he's interrupting something important and interesting and he can't help but huff laughter- which breaks rapidly into a ragged groan when she's suddenly tighter and there are nails in his back and fingers in his hair and she's making little gasping noises that go all the way through him.
He doesn't have a hope in hell of holding on any longer than that, catches her hips and pulls her down as hard as he can, and it's fierce and hot and drags on, and on, while he groans into the side of her neck where she's soft and damp and smells impossibly, deliciously female.
For few seconds Parker's pressed all the way into him, arms across his back and hands in his hair, warm breath shuddering over his throat while she shivers and sighs and occasionally gives a little hum of pleasure.
Then she slides off of him and sprawls out in the space left on the bed. She manages to look relaxed in her casual nudity, breathing just a little too fast, skin pale and soft looking.
Eliot pushes damp hair out of his face and tries to decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
A few minutes later Parker's snoring, very quietly.
Eliot feels a little bit like he's just been used.
He should probably be more annoyed.
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Parker/Eliot
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: "You can't just sneak into people's bedrooms in the middle of the night and demand that they have sex with you."
AN: paxlux said 'I DARE YOU TO WRITE PARKER/ELIOT!' So I did!
Eliot wakes up because Parker throws a pillow at him.
He's literally moving before he's even completely conscious, but Parker is just outside of reaction range, sat cross-legged at the end of his bed like some sort of insane burglar.
He aborts the movement three quarters of the way through.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he says angrily.
Parker pulls a face that's just readable in the darkness.
"I had to wake you up, I've been sitting her for five minutes already. I was getting bored."
"You were-" Eliot shoves his hair angrily out of his face. "Why are you here?
"I can't sleep," Parker provides.
Eliot raises an eyebrow at her, a not entirely happy one.
"Why is that my problem?" He flings back, irritated and too tired for Parker's special brand of crazy. Is anyone ever awake enough for Parker's special brand of crazy?
Parker's pokes at his sheets.
"I thought you could help me sleep."
Eliot scowls at her.
"What exactly do want me to do, read you a story? Make you some hot milk?"
Parker raises an eyebrow at him.
"That would be weird," she says simply.
"Still not my problem, go away and get your insomnia cured somewhere else." He lays down again, makes an irritated noise that's the final word on obnoxious company, then throws an arm over his face. "Go and harass Nate, or Sophie."
Parker grunts annoyance and there's a rustle of fabric and the bed dips again, shudders under the weight of Parker's hands and knees.
Eliot reluctantly moves his arm.
Parker has slithered out of her t-shirt and pants, and she's impossibly pale where she's leant over him, hair falling against the bare length of his chest in quick tickling trails.
"What the hell are you doing- are you naked?"
"Normally there's talking now and that's kind of boring, usually if I'm naked there's less talking and more sex," Parker explains.
"Parker!"
"Well there is." Her bare knees dig into the sheets and he can feel her through them, a half-warm shift-shift of skin and the rush of her breath against his jaw.
Jesus christ.
"What if I don't want to have sex with you," he says through his teeth.
"Do you?" she asks, which is entirely sensible but the fact that Parker chooses this exact moment to provide sensible questions is completely unfair.
"That's not the point."
"I think it kind of is," Parker decides, like he's the one that's missing something.
"You can't just sneak into people's bedrooms in the middle of the night and demand that they have sex with you."
Parker pulls another face, like the rules of polite society are confusing and shouldn't apply to her.
"Why not?"
"You just don't, it's just not something you do. You're at least supposed to ask or something."
Parker nods, like that's a fair point.
"Do you want to have sex with me Eliot?"
He really should know better than to make things simple with Parker by now. He can't think of a good reason to say no, but he's fairly sure it's a bad idea to admit to yes.
"It helps if you say yes, if you say no it's just awkward," Parker's voice is edging into irritated now, long arms folded over her breasts but not entirely managing to cover them, and it's really, really distracting.
She makes a curious face and raises an eyebrow.
"Unless you have some sort of horrible dysfunction-" she lifts the sheet up and peers down, like she's prepared to check, Eliot snatches it out of her hands.
"There is no horrible dysfunction," he snaps and then glares at her raised eyebrow.
When she curves and folds she's one naked pale line in the dark and he can't help, can't fucking help, the noise he makes.
The next time she tries to slip under the sheet he doesn't stop her. And he'll probably get into trouble over that later but, god help him, he doesn't stop her. She makes a noise of impatient triumph and slithers herself inside. Her bare skin is chilly and soft and if he wasn't awake before he definitely is now.
"Parker-" it's half protest and half something completely different.
Parker gives a soft relieved sigh when she finds him hard under the muscle of her thigh and Eliot's surprised by the clear evidence that she'd been, for a moment, uncertain.
Her thighs open around him then, knees balanced either side of his waist. Then her fingers find interesting places to brace herself on his chest and that one brief moment of self-assured greediness turns his protest into a noise that isn't anywhere close to unhappy.
"What about Hardison?"
Parker stills and frowns.
"What about him?"
Eliot isn't sure whether the pointed expression will work on Parker, but apparently she's been taking lessons in social interaction.
"Oh, I think he wants to buy me flowers or something first," Parker whispers, an edge of bewildered frustration in her voice.
Eliot's going to comment on that, but then she surprises him by leaning in, soft hands on his face, tipping it down.
She finds his mouth with her own.
Parker kisses like she might be told to stop at any moment, all enthusiasm and greed and curiosity. Eliot isn't sure whether he should try and join in or just let her do whatever she wants.
His hand ends up in her hair anyway, and it's soft and air chilled, she makes quiet cat-like noises when he pushes his hand up into it, but growls when his fingers tighten.
"You really are fierce aren't you," he murmurs into her open mouth and she grunts agreement.
He puts his hands on her, and she doesn't say no, doesn't bite him, she just slithers back and forth through them, narrow and stronger than she looks but still more than breakable. She slides up, presses briefly down into him, all warm, wet grind and then she slips up and back, and he ends up inside her in one steady shove.
"Jesus-" her waist gives under his fingers, soft where she's pushing down. Her fingertips are digging into his chest and she makes a soft satisfied noise deep in her throat that ends in something hard and shameless. He thinks he says her name again, though it mostly gets lost when she folds over and kisses him and this time she lets him join in, lets him scoop up great handfuls of her hair, while he pushes. She meets him without any urging, finds his rhythm effortlessly and dares him into something harder.
He's going to pretend he never thought this was a bad idea.
She's smiling against his mouth, little fiend that she is.
Just when he thinks he can catch her, can hold her there, she sways back, sits up straight, finds an angle she likes and takes it.
Eliot has no business complaining. Because the way her breasts move, just a little, every time she snaps her hips up, hair trailing the edges of her collarbone, dancing over the highest curves, in a way that's careless and fucking beautiful.
"You're good at this," she tells him, though he thinks he should be annoyed at the surprise in her voice.
He sits up, which gets him a murmur of appreciation and so much more of her bare skin to touch, which he does, because she lets him and she really is shameless in every movement. Not touching would be crazy.
He slides a hand down, to where skin and bone is pushing wet against his own and touches her, and she makes a breathless noise that's surprised and pleased, and then demanding.
"I like it rougher- yes, like that, that's good." Her eyes half shut, mouth opening just a little, flash of tongue at the edge of her lower lip, where she's breathing hard, and she's pushing more into his fingers than into him. Shuddering and clenching on every press down.
"You're greedy, you know that," he growls into her mouth. Though it doesn't sound anything like a complaint. His voice is all breath and ferocity around the words.
"Nearly," she protests, as though he's interrupting something important and interesting and he can't help but huff laughter- which breaks rapidly into a ragged groan when she's suddenly tighter and there are nails in his back and fingers in his hair and she's making little gasping noises that go all the way through him.
He doesn't have a hope in hell of holding on any longer than that, catches her hips and pulls her down as hard as he can, and it's fierce and hot and drags on, and on, while he groans into the side of her neck where she's soft and damp and smells impossibly, deliciously female.
For few seconds Parker's pressed all the way into him, arms across his back and hands in his hair, warm breath shuddering over his throat while she shivers and sighs and occasionally gives a little hum of pleasure.
Then she slides off of him and sprawls out in the space left on the bed. She manages to look relaxed in her casual nudity, breathing just a little too fast, skin pale and soft looking.
Eliot pushes damp hair out of his face and tries to decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
A few minutes later Parker's snoring, very quietly.
Eliot feels a little bit like he's just been used.
He should probably be more annoyed.