Leverage Fic: No more heavily than a bird
No more heavily than a bird
Author: LMX Version 3.3
Rating: 15 for language (R)
Summary: Eliot didn't know how it had come to this
Pairing: Eliot/OFC (in a general Eliot way, nothing to be scared of, y'all)
Spoilers: Season 2 Episode 10, but is possible to read without spoiling the storyline of the episode itself.
Coco Channel: I never wanted to weigh more heavily on a man than a bird.
- - -
Eliot didn't know how it had come to this.
Well, maybe he did, maybe it had something to do with the hot blond he'd picked up at the bar last night, stick thin and built like a little bird, but somehow managing to look like her body was supposed to be shaped like that. Not brittle, like if he fucked her she'd break. She told him she was a model, only in town for a couple of days, and he was sold.
Which didn't entirely explain this moment right here. There had been lots of more exciting moments in between, last night and this morning, and even in the car on the way here… he was getting distracted and the man in the row in front was looking back to give him a weird look. He stared the guy down and went back to pondering.
Mostly, he thought, it might have had something to do with the fact the girl had an appointment with the agent of some huge designer he'd never heard of, and because the meeting was directly after some kind of show, they'd given her tickets. Two of them.
At first he'd planned to turn her down, a little bit too much like a date for a one-night-only encounter, but then it struck him: where better to find *more* models? He'd grinned and gracefully accepted, with some flattery and smooth talk that had the girl blushing beautifully and had lead to one or two of those… moments he'd mentioned.
So the girl had dragged him in front of his wardrobe, spent ten minutes despairing at every piece of clothing she dragged out, and then proceeded to take him shopping. If he'd known he was going to be dressed up like a Ken doll, he might have turned her down straight, but the sex in the changing room had been good, and he couldn't deny the leather pants made him look good. It wasn't conceited if it was true.
He had makeup on, though, and not in the good 'I have lipstick on my face, and yes if you looked you might find it in other places too' kinda way. If he had to guess he might say that had something to do with the way the guy on the next row across was staring. That, he didn't remember agreeing to. He had makeup on his eyes - applied by him, because he wasn't happy with anyone waving pointy fucking things at his eyeballs thanks very much - and something froufy in his hair and she'd made him shave too, which he hated because he knew how young it made him look.
So maybe he wasn't entirely sure how all that had happened in the name of picking up another model for the night. He obviously hadn't needed any of it last night. But now he was sat here in a crowd of middle-aged men and women, being stared at, and listening to a quiet monologue of details from the wanna-be designer sat next to them. It wasn't really loud enough to be annoying, but Eliot knew he was subconsciously cataloguing the information in case he could use it later, and what was subconscious was becoming more and more conscious as he found himself agreeing or disagreeing with the designer's comments on clothes and wondering how this piece would fit and fall on a fuller bodied girl, or the girl sat next to him, or Amiee.
He was in serious danger of losing his cool - in every sense - and he wasn't completely sure what to do about it.
So he thanked the girl, kissed her, and crept around to the back of the stage.
There was nakedness, it was good.
- - -
Fashion is architecture: it is a matter of proportions
Coco Channel
Author: LMX Version 3.3
Rating: 15 for language (R)
Summary: Eliot didn't know how it had come to this
Pairing: Eliot/OFC (in a general Eliot way, nothing to be scared of, y'all)
Spoilers: Season 2 Episode 10, but is possible to read without spoiling the storyline of the episode itself.
Coco Channel: I never wanted to weigh more heavily on a man than a bird.
- - -
Eliot didn't know how it had come to this.
Well, maybe he did, maybe it had something to do with the hot blond he'd picked up at the bar last night, stick thin and built like a little bird, but somehow managing to look like her body was supposed to be shaped like that. Not brittle, like if he fucked her she'd break. She told him she was a model, only in town for a couple of days, and he was sold.
Which didn't entirely explain this moment right here. There had been lots of more exciting moments in between, last night and this morning, and even in the car on the way here… he was getting distracted and the man in the row in front was looking back to give him a weird look. He stared the guy down and went back to pondering.
Mostly, he thought, it might have had something to do with the fact the girl had an appointment with the agent of some huge designer he'd never heard of, and because the meeting was directly after some kind of show, they'd given her tickets. Two of them.
At first he'd planned to turn her down, a little bit too much like a date for a one-night-only encounter, but then it struck him: where better to find *more* models? He'd grinned and gracefully accepted, with some flattery and smooth talk that had the girl blushing beautifully and had lead to one or two of those… moments he'd mentioned.
So the girl had dragged him in front of his wardrobe, spent ten minutes despairing at every piece of clothing she dragged out, and then proceeded to take him shopping. If he'd known he was going to be dressed up like a Ken doll, he might have turned her down straight, but the sex in the changing room had been good, and he couldn't deny the leather pants made him look good. It wasn't conceited if it was true.
He had makeup on, though, and not in the good 'I have lipstick on my face, and yes if you looked you might find it in other places too' kinda way. If he had to guess he might say that had something to do with the way the guy on the next row across was staring. That, he didn't remember agreeing to. He had makeup on his eyes - applied by him, because he wasn't happy with anyone waving pointy fucking things at his eyeballs thanks very much - and something froufy in his hair and she'd made him shave too, which he hated because he knew how young it made him look.
So maybe he wasn't entirely sure how all that had happened in the name of picking up another model for the night. He obviously hadn't needed any of it last night. But now he was sat here in a crowd of middle-aged men and women, being stared at, and listening to a quiet monologue of details from the wanna-be designer sat next to them. It wasn't really loud enough to be annoying, but Eliot knew he was subconsciously cataloguing the information in case he could use it later, and what was subconscious was becoming more and more conscious as he found himself agreeing or disagreeing with the designer's comments on clothes and wondering how this piece would fit and fall on a fuller bodied girl, or the girl sat next to him, or Amiee.
He was in serious danger of losing his cool - in every sense - and he wasn't completely sure what to do about it.
So he thanked the girl, kissed her, and crept around to the back of the stage.
There was nakedness, it was good.
- - -
Fashion is architecture: it is a matter of proportions
Coco Channel