Close the Door, Pull the Shades - Part Three, Leverage, NC-17
Fandom: Leverage
Title: Close the Door, Pull the Shades - Part Three (follows on Part One and Part Two)
Pairing/Characters: Nate/Eliot, Hardison, Parker, Sophie
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4779
Summary: A new client brings a new case, but when the mark is a vampire selling Blood Slaves, Eliot and Nate may find themselves in over their heads.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is, as is becoming usual, havenward's fault. Although it started with merry_gentry's first vampire!Nate prompt on comment_fic. thus, this is a vampire!Nate fic. As such, this will include biting and some blood play. It will be a rather dom!Nate in places, but certainly not a sub!Eliot in the traditional sense.
Eliot tips his head back onto Nate's shoulder, baring his throat, moaning a little as Nate's fingers slide over his sweaty skin. So far all Nate's done is suck at the skin, bruising it, teasing Eliot every time his lips touch.
Nate's fingers are in his hair, pulling his head a little more to the side while his other hand strokes Eliot's cock and Eliot keens a little when the nimble fingers press into the leather of the cock ring.
"Come on." He growls it at Nate who chuckles into the wet skin of his neck, his tongue laving over the spot again and again, driving Eliot mad.
"What is it you want?" Nate asks casually, as if he hasn't had Eliot hanging here on the edge of this for the last hour, as if they haven't been eye fucking all goddamn day as they cleaned up the last of the job, the last nail in the coffin of the mark that brought them together in the first place.
"Want, hell. I need to come damn it." Eliot tries to arch up into Nate's hand but Nate pulls him back, his teeth teasing against flesh.
"Do you?" Nate's hand stills and Eliot groans in frustration. "Do you need it?"
"Fuck, Nate...come on." Nate's cock is inside him, but he hasn't made a move in a while, holding Eliot's body against his, teasing and toying with him.
"Not until you tell me."
"Want...need...just do it..." Eliot reaches for Nate's hand, tries to move things along, but Nate just pulls it away.
"I want to hear you say it."
Nate's mouth is there...just hovering over Eliot's skin...so close and Eliot's panting, craving... "Fuck...need you, want you to...please...Eliot closes his eyes, presses back into Nate's naked body. "Bite me, make me come."
He gets off on it, the power to make Eliot beg, to reduce him to this, but then his teeth break through the skin and his fingers unsnap the cock ring and Eliot's body liquefies, every muscle releasing as he comes, spilling over Nate's had as Nate sucks life from him.
Nate's own orgasm is almost secondary, lost in the throes of Eliot's as he follows Eliot back to the mattress. Eliot's panting as he rolls onto his back, and it still kind of throws him that Nate isn't. Almost a month together and there are little things like that that give him pause. "You okay?" Nate asks and Eliot nods, getting up to go get a washcloth.
"Yeah, you?"
"I'm not the one who just had a pint sucked out of him."
"No, but you are the one who got stuck out in the middle of the day earlier and hasn't had a drink since."
Nate frowned at him as Eliot wiped the blood off his skin. "I'm fine."
"You want something?"
"I didn't think you kept anything more than beer."
Eliot rolls his eyes and leaves Nate sitting on the bed, going into the kitchen for a glass and the bottle he'd bought two weeks before to have on hand when they inevitably ended up there instead of Nate's place.
He dropped both on the nightstand to Nate's surprise. "This is a decent Scotch."
"I know. Figured if you're going to drink, you might as well have the good shit."
He's hyped up, not feeling the usual lethargic pull of sleep that followed an orgasm fueled by Nate's feeding. "Did you get enough?" Eliot asks, turning to look at Nate, trying to judge by his color or something. "I mean…since I don't have any…you know, extra in the fridge."
"I'm good for now." Nate says, sipping on the scotch.
"Would you tell me if you weren't?" Eliot asks, his hands on his hips until he realizes that still naked it makes him look a little ridiculous.
Nate seems to consider the question. "If I need more I know how to get it." He leers at Eliot, at his cock, which hardens noticeably despite the recent orgasm.
Eliot drops a hand to cover himself. "I'm being serious."
"I don't need you to nursemaid me, Eliot. I'm fine."
"In that case, I'm going to shower."
He pads on bare feet through the apartment, over hard wood floors and carpet, out to the living room and the broken in old couch.
Sunlight peeks in around the blinds that don't make the apartment as dark as Nate's, but safe enough for Nate to get around without worrying about random bits of light leaving burns behind on his skin.
He lifts the glass he left on the coffee table earlier, sips at the scotch. Eliot had bought the good stuff, said he'd keep it on hand now that Nate was around more often.
It's late afternoon, quiet. Eliot's asleep after hours of exploring the boundaries of endurance and willingness between them...and Nate's still buzzing from feeding in the middle of it.
He sinks into the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and lifting the glass to his lips. It isn't what he wants most, but he has to be careful with that...too much of a good thing always leads to bad consequences, and Nate knows it from experience.
He sips at the scotch, sets the glass aside. There's a soft shuffle of feet on floor and when he looks up, Eliot is blinking at him, arms folded around his bare chest like he's cold. "Hey."
Eliot moves slowly toward him, and Nate can see the aches in the lines of his body. "Did I wake you?"
Eliot shakes his head, sinks onto the couch, ending up with his head on Nate's thigh. "Bed was empty."
Nate smiles, lets Eliot get comfortable before he pulls the faded old quilt off the back of the couch, letting it drape over Eliot who sighs, breath warm against Nate's leg.
The quiet settles over them and for a moment Nate feels content, quiet. Still. It seems odd, incongruent with the rest of their lives, but for now, he savors it, the warm feeling of Eliot beside him, the remnants of the feeling he always got when he got closer to bringing down the people responsible for the death of his son, and the simple joy of a job that let him get the best of bad people.
"There's one more thing I should mention about our mark." Nate says it quietly, privately, just for Eliot's ears.
Eliot can tell by the tone it's serious, and he crosses his arms to look at Nate. They're alone in the motel room in Phoenix, waiting for the rest of the team. Eliot already doesn't like the job. It's high risk, and it's Nate doing most of the risking, and it just doesn't sit right.
"I'm listening."
"He's a vampire." Nate says it like he's saying the guy is a vegetarian or a republican or something.
"He's a what?" Eliot looks over his shoulder like expects someone to be listening. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
Nate looks up at him, apparently surprised by Eliot's reaction. "This is a problem for you?"
"For me? What about you?"
"Me?" Nate finishes off the drink in his hand and shakes his head.
"Do I even have to tell you that this isn't a good idea?" Eliot shoves off the wall where he was leaning crosses to the desk. "You know they'll figure it out eventually. You can't hide behind the alcoholic thing forever…and shoving their faces into a case with another vampire? Hardison at least is going to figure it out."
Nate held up his hands. "You heard that poor girl. This bastard is selling slaves. She doesn't even realize the truth."
Eliot stops, eyes narrowing. "You know more than you're telling us."
Nate licks his lips and turns to his darkened windows. The tint is so dark it makes it look like nighttime when it was barely two in the afternoon. "It isn't just sex, Eliot. He's selling to other vampires."
"Blood slaves." Eliot understands now, nodding. The client was a young woman whose sister had gone missing after answering an ad for the mark's night club. She turned up two years later, dead with all the signs of sexual assault and some serious bondage. Cause of death had been ruled exsanguination, via a slit throat. "How do you-"
Nate picks up the photos on the desk. "You probably can't see them, and I know the coroner didn't, but there are teeth marks under the cut." Nate's eyes are getting dark and Eliot's body is responding. They don't have time for it, but the desire flashes across Nate's face just the same. "Later, after we've dealt with this guy."
Eliot isn't going to argue, because no one should become what he's let himself become without wanting it, and certainly not without the option to walk away. "Okay, I'll head out to the nightclub, do some recon."
Nate shakes his head. "No, not alone. Start here." He hands Eliot a picture of a club a few streets away from the one their mark owns. "Sharon was working there before she disappeared. See what you can find out. And make it fast. Every night we don't get this guy someone else goes missing."
It isn't often that he finds himself on the wrong end of a polecat hell bent on eating him for dinner, but that's exactly what this feels like, even as he peels the woman off him for the fifth time, trying to restrain himself from smacking her down, because he isn't that guy.
What he gets in return is three long scratches down his chest as her hand finally gets past his open shirt and Eliot just knows he's going to have to explain that...not to mention why it's taken him three different clubs to get anything resembling a straight answer about the missing girls…he just doesn't really expect to have to do it right that moment.
He senses Nate behind him, turns to head him off, but he's already there, right the fuck there, his hand on Eliot's shoulder. "I thought I told you to be quick about it."
Nate's eyes track to the woman who finally gets the idea that Eliot really isn't interested or maybe that Nate could eat her alive and she disappears into the growing crowd. "Working here." Eliot says easily as Nate steers him toward the door.
Nate's fingers pluck the earpiece from Eliot's ear. "Not anymore."
It isn't until they're in the alley and Eliot's shoved into the wall that he starts to realize how much trouble he's in. Nate sniffs him, teeth protruding as he growls. "You stink like that whore."
Eliot swallows and raises his hands in a placating gesture. "I was working."
He can tell reason is not going to work now though, not when it had been days since the last time they were intimate, days where they'd failed to find anyway into this vampire's operation, not when Nate had practically pulled that woman off of Eliot and she had bloodied him.
Nate rips the shirt open, hissing like a goddamn cat as he sees the marks. "You let her touch you."
"Let nothing, Nate, I was trying to make her understand--"
Nate's hand is on his neck, lifting him just off his feet. "Understand what Eliot? That you belong to me?"
Eliot knows when to stop arguing, and even if that was the minute he saw Nate, and not five minutes later, but he gets the point now, lowering his eyes. "Yes, Nate. I belong to you. No one but you."
Nate lets him down, his hand moving back to the scratches and Eliot only barely keeps from screaming when Nate's fingers deepen the marks, lengthen them. He lifts his fingers and licks the blood from them. "I think I should remind you."
Eliot grins then thinking sex is just the thing they both need, take the edge of, get their heads back in the game. "Hell yeah. The hotel is--."
Nate pushes him back to the wall. "Here's fine."
Nate goes easily to one knee, pulling Eliot's cock out and closing his mouth over it quickly. Eliot's hard in seconds, even with those fangs grazing the skin on both sides. He groans and keeps himself from grabbing Nate's head, but only barely.
The scraping is just enough now that he's fully hard to hurt, to draw blood, but not enough to pull him back from the orgasm Nate sucks out of him.
Nate stands, leaving Eliot's cock hanging in the cool air, red from more than having just come. "That should remind you for a while." He's all the way to the end of the alley and Eliot's still standing there. "Get your ass in the car, Sophie's got us a lead."
"Remember the part where I said this was a bad idea?" Eliot is pacing in front of the desk, the rest of the team hovering just outside the bedroom door in the living room of the suite. "This? Is worse."
Nate knows he needs to calm Eliot down, because they're in too far already and this is the only way they're getting close enough to the mark. "It is the only way."
"Just like that?" Eliot shakes his head. "Then maybe you better take another drink and see if you can find your head in that bottle, because you sure ain't using it right now."
"Eliot, it's not like I've never dealt with another one before."
Eliot huffs. "If you're going in, I'm going with you."
Nate's instant reaction is to shake his head. "No. It isn't safe."
Eliot laughs, but there's no humor in the sound. "If it's safe enough for you, it should be fine for me."
"You don't understand." Nate drains his glass and crosses to the window, his back to Eliot so he won't see what Nate's thinking. Stephen Darling had a reputation, and even if he was using another name now, he hadn't changed. He had an appetite for the ones who were hard to break, the ones he could spend years breaking down. Ones like Eliot.
"I'm not letting you go in there alone." Eliot says, though his voice has softened some. "You go, I go."
Nate can tell from the tone that Eliot means it and this is the moment to pull the plug, walk away…but Nate's never been good at letting go of something and he really wants to take this guy down so he nods, turning back to Eliot. "Then you go my way. You do what you're told, no questions. I've dealt with guys like this before."
"Yeah, me too."
Nate can almost see the flash of memory, his hand rising to cup to Eliot's face. "He's not like Lo Chan Fen, Eliot. He's much, much worse."
Nate opens the door, not surprised to find Sophie and Parker jumping back from the door, Hardison sitting on the couch with his laptop and earphones. "Change of plans, Eliot's coming with me. Sophie I need you manning the phones for when he checks my cover. Hardison, pull up every blueprint for every building this fucker owns. Parker, find where he's keeping them."
Hardison looks up, eyebrows raised. "What about the part where this is a bad idea?"
Nate stops at the door to the hallway. "This man is stealing people and selling them as sex slaves. Right now we know for a fact he has at least three waiting for sale. If any of you want to pull out, now is the time."
He waits, watching them all fidget, until Eliot pushes through to stand by Nate. "You heard the man. Get to work."
Eliot is getting better at the costume thing, judging solely by the way he's dressed the part of Nate's companion. Black jeans and a white button down that's unbuttoned enough to show his chest and the nearly ever-present bruise at the base of his neck where Nate likes to feed and the scratches down his chest.
His hair is loose, easy to tangle fingers in. Nate draws Eliot to him, nipping at the bruise to bring fresh blood to the surface. It's been more than a few days since they've had time to be together in any significant way and Nate's hungry for him. "Later." Eliot murmurs, that husky voice going straight to Nate's cock. "After…"
Nate nods and pulls back, leaving the bruise a little bloody where his fangs grazed the skin. "We want him to know you belong to me, it will give you a little freedom to look around, watch our backs."
Eliot nods, but doesn't quite look at him. "We should get going."
In the car, they both turn on their earpieces and settle them into their ears. "I meant what I said Eliot, follow my lead or we'll both end up dead." Or worse, but Nate didn't voice that.
The club was busy, but there weren't lines out the door like a Friday night. The valet took Nate's keys as he stepped out of the car and Nate circled to Eliot's door, holding out his hand. After only a brief hesitation, Eliot took it, letting Nate draw him up out of the car and to his side.
He was tense, Nate could feel the hot, hard line of Eliot's body against his. "Easy."
"Let's just get this over with." Eliot responds, his eyes sweeping around them. "Back corner."
Nate nods to a woman watching them closely. "I see them. We have to take this slow. Bar." They glide to the bar and Nate orders up a scotch.
"Anything for your boy?" the bartender asks.
Nate feels Eliot bristle. "Beer."
It tells him a lot. The staff here knows the truth, knows how to spot a vampire. He files that information away as the drinks are served. Eliot is glaring at him and Nate turns, brushing hair out of his face. "Drink your beer." He lets his fingers slide into Eliot's hair and grips, making Eliot wince.
Eliot lifts the bottle, sips off it as he surveys the room. "Guns at the doors." Eliot says quietly. "Four at least. Our mark has a bodyguard." Eliot put his beer down, looking around Nate. "Make that two."
"Come on." Nate heads toward the booth in the back where Stephen Darling, currently known as Andros Marquez is holding court. The bodyguards stand a little straighter as they approach, but Marquez knows his own kind when he sees one and backs them off. "Evening." Nate pulls Eliot a little closer, knowing that he would catch the mark's interest.
"I don't believe I know you, and I was certain I knew all vampires in the area."
Nate smiles easy. "New in town…just passing through, actually. Heard you were the man to see."
Marquez gestures for Nate to join him. Nate's hand slides up Eliot's back to the back of his neck, holding him and pushing him into the booth first.
"It seems to me you don't really need my services." Marquez says, his eyes sweeping over Eliot.
"Actually, I'm here to offer you mine." Nate says, setting his glass on the table.
That pulls Marquez back to him. "Oh? What could you possibly have that I don't?"
Nate smiles, lets some of the dark inside him out through his eyes. "A bigger market."
Marquez raises an eyebrow, glances out at the club. "Mine's plenty big."
Nate leans back, pulling Eliot up against him. "I can double it, plus offer you imported goods to sell here."
"Imported?" He's clearly got the vampire intrigued, but his eyes stray to Eliot again. "Is he imported?"
Nate pushes Eliot away and looks him over, his hand on the back of Eliot's neck. He's fuming, furious. Nate can smell it, though to Eliot's credit, he doesn't react outwardly, keeps his cool, follows Nate's lead.
The other vampire looks Eliot over like he's a prize, his hand tangled in the leash he's got his own companion on. The boy is barely twenty, long and lithe, pale from his blond hair all the way down to the place where his skin disappears under loose clothing.
He's far more submissive than Eliot, on his knees in the dark corner of the nightclub. "I don't share." Nate says coolly, his hand petting down Eliot's back before settling once more on the back of his neck. Eliot bristles and Nate tightens his grip, squeezes just a little, hopes Eliot gets his meaning.
"Pity, I'll bet he's a tasty one."
Nate drops his card on the table and stands, keeping Eliot seated for a moment more with the hand he has on the man's neck. "If you decide you want to do business."
"I'll consider it." A pale hand snakes out to take the card, but the dark eyes are still on Eliot. "If you'll consider sharing."
Nate doesn't let himself react, just moves away, finally letting up the pressure so that Eliot can stand and follow. "Hardison?"
"I got him, already calling to check your cover."
Nate leads Eliot out of the club. He can feel him vibrating with anger and as he turns, Eliot's fist lands full in his face.
"I am not your goddamn pet." The heat rolling off Eliot is intoxicating, the anger mesmerizing. Nate shakes off the punch, holds up his hands.
"I never said that you--"
"Fuck you. Parading me around in there like I'm some fucking plaything? Like I'm...Fuck you!"
"Guys?"
"Fuck you too, Hardison." Eliot says, pulling away when Nate reaches for him. "I mean it."
"Guys? Can we fight more about this when there aren't bad guys with guns coming your way?"
Nate moves fast, grabbing Eliot by the hair and yanking him in, bending his head away as if to feed. "Hold still," he hisses in Eliot's ear, looking up as the doors open and their mark comes out with his array of bodyguards and the boy on the leash.
He bites, but doesn't really drink, just enough to bloody his lips, and Eliot calms, presses against him. He lifts his face and Marquez raises a hand in greeting, a small smile on his face. Nate holds Eliot there until the car pulls away.
Once the danger is past, Eliot pushes him away. "I'm serious." He wipes at his face, at the bloody smear on his neck. His fingers pluck the earpiece out of his ear and he hands it to Nate. "I'll find my own way home."
"Eliot." Nate reaches for him, but he's fast and Nate's left standing alone outside the club.
The valet pulls up with his car, and Nate is tempted to follow Eliot, but figures Eliot needs to cool down and lets him go. "Hardison, where are we?"
"Parker's got it narrowed down to three possible locations. Sophie's working on getting us what we need for when Marquez bites."
"Call me if you need anything…and keep an eye on Eliot."
"How am I going to do that? He took his earpiece out."
"He still has his phone."
"Right. On it."
Eliot stalks down dark streets without really paying attention to where he is going. He's simmering with anger, but he's not really sure what he's angry about. He's been on edge for days, and every time Nate drinks from his refrigerator instead of Eliot it gets worse.
And, considering they've been sharing a suite with the team, and considering that Eliot still comes every damn time Nate bites him, it just hasn't been feasible. Eliot doesn't know where Nate's getting his supply here in Phoenix, but it's obvious he's getting what he needs…and that just irks him further.
He storms around a corner and stops, looking around to get his bearings. He's maybe ten blocks from the hotel…but he isn't sure he's ready to go back there. Not that Nate will be there anyway, not when Eliot knew he needed a drink, in more ways than one. The little taste he got when he was protecting them was enough to make him needy.
And that just sent another rush of anger through him, imagining Nate at some bar, downing whiskey and flirting until he found someone willing…imagining him in some alley with some floozy, drinking alcohol laced blood and heading back to the hotel buzzing with it.
"Fuck that." Eliot decides maybe what he needs is a bar of his own. Maybe a good old fashioned bar brawl to work out some of this aggression.
What he finds instead, as he turns another corner, is something else entirely. He holds up his hands and starts to back away. This is more fight than he was looking for. The gangbanger on the ground is bloodied and only his fingers move, scratching feebly at the concrete. One of the men standing over him kicks him solid in the ribs and the sound is wet.
Eliot licks his lips, shakes his head. "I didn't see anything." He knows that won't fly, knows he's in for some serious pain and readies himself. He's outnumbered and out gunned. He can see at least five knives and two guns and who knew what else they were packing. The leader of the group holds up a hand and they stop, all twelve of them staring at Eliot. That's about when he senses the big guy behind him.
Easily six and a half feet tall, the man towers over Eliot. "Shit." He swings into action, attempting just to get clear enough to make a run for it, but they swirl around him, and for every few punches or kicks he lands, he takes one too.
Then the knife slices into his thigh, and another over his chest. "Wait, hold up." Someone pulls a guy off him as Eliot falls to his knees. The lead pulls the ripped shirt aside. "Fuck, this is one of Marquez's. Look."
The knife point pokes at the mark on his neck.
"Let's get out of here."
Eliot's head is swimming, his vision blurry as they run, leaving him on his knees in the street. He tries to take inventory. The leg wound is fairly serious, bleeding profusely. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, dials Nate's number, but the world is getting dark and he falls under the weight of it before he hears Nate's voice.
Fury fills him. Uncontrolled. It's dangerous and he knows it. But at the moment he doesn't care.
He stands at the window, stares out at the night, snarling at his own reflection. The poor nurse who came in to tell him that visiting hours were over was gone. Nate had felt her leave the hospital, her heart pounding in fear.
He wasn't leaving this room. He would stand there and watch the world burn before he did.
"Nate?"
He turns from the window, his face softening. Eliot blinks, his eyes sweeping the room. Nate can hear his heartbeat, feel the confusion, taste his pain. "Shh...you should be sleeping."
The drugs running through him keep Eliot from really putting it all together. Nate can almost see the scattered memories flitting through him as he sits on the bed, taking Eliot's hand. "I'm right here, and I'm not leaving. You're safe. Sleep."
"Safe..." There's a hint of humor in the word. "My boyfriend is a vampire." Eliot's eyes drift closed. "How's that safe?"
"Because that boyfriend is going to watch over you." Nate murmurs, his hand brushing over Eliot's face.
Eliot's eyes drift closed and Nate watches the drugs and his injuries pull him under. It had been close...so close. Eliot's blood still stains his clothes, and now some of Nate's blood runs in Eliot's veins. It wasn't something he'd ever considered, but Eliot would have bled out before the ambulance got them to the hospital. It was just a small amount. Just enough to keep him alive, to lend him the healing properties of his kind.
Nate's hand is shaking when he lays it on Eliot's chest, over his heart. It beats slow and rhythmically, reassuring Nate that Eliot would live another day, fight more battles. Probably end up in more hospitals along the way.
He listens to that beating for a long moment before he pulls back and turns away. The dawn is coming, and Nate gets up to close the curtains, hoping they'll be enough to protect him from the daylight, because Nate's not going anywhere until he's sure that Eliot isn't going to slip away from him, isn't going to need more from him...then Nate's going to find the men responsible for this and drink them dry.
Title: Close the Door, Pull the Shades - Part Three (follows on Part One and Part Two)
Pairing/Characters: Nate/Eliot, Hardison, Parker, Sophie
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4779
Summary: A new client brings a new case, but when the mark is a vampire selling Blood Slaves, Eliot and Nate may find themselves in over their heads.
A/Ns & Warnings: This is, as is becoming usual, havenward's fault. Although it started with merry_gentry's first vampire!Nate prompt on comment_fic. thus, this is a vampire!Nate fic. As such, this will include biting and some blood play. It will be a rather dom!Nate in places, but certainly not a sub!Eliot in the traditional sense.
Eliot tips his head back onto Nate's shoulder, baring his throat, moaning a little as Nate's fingers slide over his sweaty skin. So far all Nate's done is suck at the skin, bruising it, teasing Eliot every time his lips touch.
Nate's fingers are in his hair, pulling his head a little more to the side while his other hand strokes Eliot's cock and Eliot keens a little when the nimble fingers press into the leather of the cock ring.
"Come on." He growls it at Nate who chuckles into the wet skin of his neck, his tongue laving over the spot again and again, driving Eliot mad.
"What is it you want?" Nate asks casually, as if he hasn't had Eliot hanging here on the edge of this for the last hour, as if they haven't been eye fucking all goddamn day as they cleaned up the last of the job, the last nail in the coffin of the mark that brought them together in the first place.
"Want, hell. I need to come damn it." Eliot tries to arch up into Nate's hand but Nate pulls him back, his teeth teasing against flesh.
"Do you?" Nate's hand stills and Eliot groans in frustration. "Do you need it?"
"Fuck, Nate...come on." Nate's cock is inside him, but he hasn't made a move in a while, holding Eliot's body against his, teasing and toying with him.
"Not until you tell me."
"Want...need...just do it..." Eliot reaches for Nate's hand, tries to move things along, but Nate just pulls it away.
"I want to hear you say it."
Nate's mouth is there...just hovering over Eliot's skin...so close and Eliot's panting, craving... "Fuck...need you, want you to...please...Eliot closes his eyes, presses back into Nate's naked body. "Bite me, make me come."
He gets off on it, the power to make Eliot beg, to reduce him to this, but then his teeth break through the skin and his fingers unsnap the cock ring and Eliot's body liquefies, every muscle releasing as he comes, spilling over Nate's had as Nate sucks life from him.
Nate's own orgasm is almost secondary, lost in the throes of Eliot's as he follows Eliot back to the mattress. Eliot's panting as he rolls onto his back, and it still kind of throws him that Nate isn't. Almost a month together and there are little things like that that give him pause. "You okay?" Nate asks and Eliot nods, getting up to go get a washcloth.
"Yeah, you?"
"I'm not the one who just had a pint sucked out of him."
"No, but you are the one who got stuck out in the middle of the day earlier and hasn't had a drink since."
Nate frowned at him as Eliot wiped the blood off his skin. "I'm fine."
"You want something?"
"I didn't think you kept anything more than beer."
Eliot rolls his eyes and leaves Nate sitting on the bed, going into the kitchen for a glass and the bottle he'd bought two weeks before to have on hand when they inevitably ended up there instead of Nate's place.
He dropped both on the nightstand to Nate's surprise. "This is a decent Scotch."
"I know. Figured if you're going to drink, you might as well have the good shit."
He's hyped up, not feeling the usual lethargic pull of sleep that followed an orgasm fueled by Nate's feeding. "Did you get enough?" Eliot asks, turning to look at Nate, trying to judge by his color or something. "I mean…since I don't have any…you know, extra in the fridge."
"I'm good for now." Nate says, sipping on the scotch.
"Would you tell me if you weren't?" Eliot asks, his hands on his hips until he realizes that still naked it makes him look a little ridiculous.
Nate seems to consider the question. "If I need more I know how to get it." He leers at Eliot, at his cock, which hardens noticeably despite the recent orgasm.
Eliot drops a hand to cover himself. "I'm being serious."
"I don't need you to nursemaid me, Eliot. I'm fine."
"In that case, I'm going to shower."
He pads on bare feet through the apartment, over hard wood floors and carpet, out to the living room and the broken in old couch.
Sunlight peeks in around the blinds that don't make the apartment as dark as Nate's, but safe enough for Nate to get around without worrying about random bits of light leaving burns behind on his skin.
He lifts the glass he left on the coffee table earlier, sips at the scotch. Eliot had bought the good stuff, said he'd keep it on hand now that Nate was around more often.
It's late afternoon, quiet. Eliot's asleep after hours of exploring the boundaries of endurance and willingness between them...and Nate's still buzzing from feeding in the middle of it.
He sinks into the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and lifting the glass to his lips. It isn't what he wants most, but he has to be careful with that...too much of a good thing always leads to bad consequences, and Nate knows it from experience.
He sips at the scotch, sets the glass aside. There's a soft shuffle of feet on floor and when he looks up, Eliot is blinking at him, arms folded around his bare chest like he's cold. "Hey."
Eliot moves slowly toward him, and Nate can see the aches in the lines of his body. "Did I wake you?"
Eliot shakes his head, sinks onto the couch, ending up with his head on Nate's thigh. "Bed was empty."
Nate smiles, lets Eliot get comfortable before he pulls the faded old quilt off the back of the couch, letting it drape over Eliot who sighs, breath warm against Nate's leg.
The quiet settles over them and for a moment Nate feels content, quiet. Still. It seems odd, incongruent with the rest of their lives, but for now, he savors it, the warm feeling of Eliot beside him, the remnants of the feeling he always got when he got closer to bringing down the people responsible for the death of his son, and the simple joy of a job that let him get the best of bad people.
"There's one more thing I should mention about our mark." Nate says it quietly, privately, just for Eliot's ears.
Eliot can tell by the tone it's serious, and he crosses his arms to look at Nate. They're alone in the motel room in Phoenix, waiting for the rest of the team. Eliot already doesn't like the job. It's high risk, and it's Nate doing most of the risking, and it just doesn't sit right.
"I'm listening."
"He's a vampire." Nate says it like he's saying the guy is a vegetarian or a republican or something.
"He's a what?" Eliot looks over his shoulder like expects someone to be listening. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
Nate looks up at him, apparently surprised by Eliot's reaction. "This is a problem for you?"
"For me? What about you?"
"Me?" Nate finishes off the drink in his hand and shakes his head.
"Do I even have to tell you that this isn't a good idea?" Eliot shoves off the wall where he was leaning crosses to the desk. "You know they'll figure it out eventually. You can't hide behind the alcoholic thing forever…and shoving their faces into a case with another vampire? Hardison at least is going to figure it out."
Nate held up his hands. "You heard that poor girl. This bastard is selling slaves. She doesn't even realize the truth."
Eliot stops, eyes narrowing. "You know more than you're telling us."
Nate licks his lips and turns to his darkened windows. The tint is so dark it makes it look like nighttime when it was barely two in the afternoon. "It isn't just sex, Eliot. He's selling to other vampires."
"Blood slaves." Eliot understands now, nodding. The client was a young woman whose sister had gone missing after answering an ad for the mark's night club. She turned up two years later, dead with all the signs of sexual assault and some serious bondage. Cause of death had been ruled exsanguination, via a slit throat. "How do you-"
Nate picks up the photos on the desk. "You probably can't see them, and I know the coroner didn't, but there are teeth marks under the cut." Nate's eyes are getting dark and Eliot's body is responding. They don't have time for it, but the desire flashes across Nate's face just the same. "Later, after we've dealt with this guy."
Eliot isn't going to argue, because no one should become what he's let himself become without wanting it, and certainly not without the option to walk away. "Okay, I'll head out to the nightclub, do some recon."
Nate shakes his head. "No, not alone. Start here." He hands Eliot a picture of a club a few streets away from the one their mark owns. "Sharon was working there before she disappeared. See what you can find out. And make it fast. Every night we don't get this guy someone else goes missing."
It isn't often that he finds himself on the wrong end of a polecat hell bent on eating him for dinner, but that's exactly what this feels like, even as he peels the woman off him for the fifth time, trying to restrain himself from smacking her down, because he isn't that guy.
What he gets in return is three long scratches down his chest as her hand finally gets past his open shirt and Eliot just knows he's going to have to explain that...not to mention why it's taken him three different clubs to get anything resembling a straight answer about the missing girls…he just doesn't really expect to have to do it right that moment.
He senses Nate behind him, turns to head him off, but he's already there, right the fuck there, his hand on Eliot's shoulder. "I thought I told you to be quick about it."
Nate's eyes track to the woman who finally gets the idea that Eliot really isn't interested or maybe that Nate could eat her alive and she disappears into the growing crowd. "Working here." Eliot says easily as Nate steers him toward the door.
Nate's fingers pluck the earpiece from Eliot's ear. "Not anymore."
It isn't until they're in the alley and Eliot's shoved into the wall that he starts to realize how much trouble he's in. Nate sniffs him, teeth protruding as he growls. "You stink like that whore."
Eliot swallows and raises his hands in a placating gesture. "I was working."
He can tell reason is not going to work now though, not when it had been days since the last time they were intimate, days where they'd failed to find anyway into this vampire's operation, not when Nate had practically pulled that woman off of Eliot and she had bloodied him.
Nate rips the shirt open, hissing like a goddamn cat as he sees the marks. "You let her touch you."
"Let nothing, Nate, I was trying to make her understand--"
Nate's hand is on his neck, lifting him just off his feet. "Understand what Eliot? That you belong to me?"
Eliot knows when to stop arguing, and even if that was the minute he saw Nate, and not five minutes later, but he gets the point now, lowering his eyes. "Yes, Nate. I belong to you. No one but you."
Nate lets him down, his hand moving back to the scratches and Eliot only barely keeps from screaming when Nate's fingers deepen the marks, lengthen them. He lifts his fingers and licks the blood from them. "I think I should remind you."
Eliot grins then thinking sex is just the thing they both need, take the edge of, get their heads back in the game. "Hell yeah. The hotel is--."
Nate pushes him back to the wall. "Here's fine."
Nate goes easily to one knee, pulling Eliot's cock out and closing his mouth over it quickly. Eliot's hard in seconds, even with those fangs grazing the skin on both sides. He groans and keeps himself from grabbing Nate's head, but only barely.
The scraping is just enough now that he's fully hard to hurt, to draw blood, but not enough to pull him back from the orgasm Nate sucks out of him.
Nate stands, leaving Eliot's cock hanging in the cool air, red from more than having just come. "That should remind you for a while." He's all the way to the end of the alley and Eliot's still standing there. "Get your ass in the car, Sophie's got us a lead."
"Remember the part where I said this was a bad idea?" Eliot is pacing in front of the desk, the rest of the team hovering just outside the bedroom door in the living room of the suite. "This? Is worse."
Nate knows he needs to calm Eliot down, because they're in too far already and this is the only way they're getting close enough to the mark. "It is the only way."
"Just like that?" Eliot shakes his head. "Then maybe you better take another drink and see if you can find your head in that bottle, because you sure ain't using it right now."
"Eliot, it's not like I've never dealt with another one before."
Eliot huffs. "If you're going in, I'm going with you."
Nate's instant reaction is to shake his head. "No. It isn't safe."
Eliot laughs, but there's no humor in the sound. "If it's safe enough for you, it should be fine for me."
"You don't understand." Nate drains his glass and crosses to the window, his back to Eliot so he won't see what Nate's thinking. Stephen Darling had a reputation, and even if he was using another name now, he hadn't changed. He had an appetite for the ones who were hard to break, the ones he could spend years breaking down. Ones like Eliot.
"I'm not letting you go in there alone." Eliot says, though his voice has softened some. "You go, I go."
Nate can tell from the tone that Eliot means it and this is the moment to pull the plug, walk away…but Nate's never been good at letting go of something and he really wants to take this guy down so he nods, turning back to Eliot. "Then you go my way. You do what you're told, no questions. I've dealt with guys like this before."
"Yeah, me too."
Nate can almost see the flash of memory, his hand rising to cup to Eliot's face. "He's not like Lo Chan Fen, Eliot. He's much, much worse."
Nate opens the door, not surprised to find Sophie and Parker jumping back from the door, Hardison sitting on the couch with his laptop and earphones. "Change of plans, Eliot's coming with me. Sophie I need you manning the phones for when he checks my cover. Hardison, pull up every blueprint for every building this fucker owns. Parker, find where he's keeping them."
Hardison looks up, eyebrows raised. "What about the part where this is a bad idea?"
Nate stops at the door to the hallway. "This man is stealing people and selling them as sex slaves. Right now we know for a fact he has at least three waiting for sale. If any of you want to pull out, now is the time."
He waits, watching them all fidget, until Eliot pushes through to stand by Nate. "You heard the man. Get to work."
Eliot is getting better at the costume thing, judging solely by the way he's dressed the part of Nate's companion. Black jeans and a white button down that's unbuttoned enough to show his chest and the nearly ever-present bruise at the base of his neck where Nate likes to feed and the scratches down his chest.
His hair is loose, easy to tangle fingers in. Nate draws Eliot to him, nipping at the bruise to bring fresh blood to the surface. It's been more than a few days since they've had time to be together in any significant way and Nate's hungry for him. "Later." Eliot murmurs, that husky voice going straight to Nate's cock. "After…"
Nate nods and pulls back, leaving the bruise a little bloody where his fangs grazed the skin. "We want him to know you belong to me, it will give you a little freedom to look around, watch our backs."
Eliot nods, but doesn't quite look at him. "We should get going."
In the car, they both turn on their earpieces and settle them into their ears. "I meant what I said Eliot, follow my lead or we'll both end up dead." Or worse, but Nate didn't voice that.
The club was busy, but there weren't lines out the door like a Friday night. The valet took Nate's keys as he stepped out of the car and Nate circled to Eliot's door, holding out his hand. After only a brief hesitation, Eliot took it, letting Nate draw him up out of the car and to his side.
He was tense, Nate could feel the hot, hard line of Eliot's body against his. "Easy."
"Let's just get this over with." Eliot responds, his eyes sweeping around them. "Back corner."
Nate nods to a woman watching them closely. "I see them. We have to take this slow. Bar." They glide to the bar and Nate orders up a scotch.
"Anything for your boy?" the bartender asks.
Nate feels Eliot bristle. "Beer."
It tells him a lot. The staff here knows the truth, knows how to spot a vampire. He files that information away as the drinks are served. Eliot is glaring at him and Nate turns, brushing hair out of his face. "Drink your beer." He lets his fingers slide into Eliot's hair and grips, making Eliot wince.
Eliot lifts the bottle, sips off it as he surveys the room. "Guns at the doors." Eliot says quietly. "Four at least. Our mark has a bodyguard." Eliot put his beer down, looking around Nate. "Make that two."
"Come on." Nate heads toward the booth in the back where Stephen Darling, currently known as Andros Marquez is holding court. The bodyguards stand a little straighter as they approach, but Marquez knows his own kind when he sees one and backs them off. "Evening." Nate pulls Eliot a little closer, knowing that he would catch the mark's interest.
"I don't believe I know you, and I was certain I knew all vampires in the area."
Nate smiles easy. "New in town…just passing through, actually. Heard you were the man to see."
Marquez gestures for Nate to join him. Nate's hand slides up Eliot's back to the back of his neck, holding him and pushing him into the booth first.
"It seems to me you don't really need my services." Marquez says, his eyes sweeping over Eliot.
"Actually, I'm here to offer you mine." Nate says, setting his glass on the table.
That pulls Marquez back to him. "Oh? What could you possibly have that I don't?"
Nate smiles, lets some of the dark inside him out through his eyes. "A bigger market."
Marquez raises an eyebrow, glances out at the club. "Mine's plenty big."
Nate leans back, pulling Eliot up against him. "I can double it, plus offer you imported goods to sell here."
"Imported?" He's clearly got the vampire intrigued, but his eyes stray to Eliot again. "Is he imported?"
Nate pushes Eliot away and looks him over, his hand on the back of Eliot's neck. He's fuming, furious. Nate can smell it, though to Eliot's credit, he doesn't react outwardly, keeps his cool, follows Nate's lead.
The other vampire looks Eliot over like he's a prize, his hand tangled in the leash he's got his own companion on. The boy is barely twenty, long and lithe, pale from his blond hair all the way down to the place where his skin disappears under loose clothing.
He's far more submissive than Eliot, on his knees in the dark corner of the nightclub. "I don't share." Nate says coolly, his hand petting down Eliot's back before settling once more on the back of his neck. Eliot bristles and Nate tightens his grip, squeezes just a little, hopes Eliot gets his meaning.
"Pity, I'll bet he's a tasty one."
Nate drops his card on the table and stands, keeping Eliot seated for a moment more with the hand he has on the man's neck. "If you decide you want to do business."
"I'll consider it." A pale hand snakes out to take the card, but the dark eyes are still on Eliot. "If you'll consider sharing."
Nate doesn't let himself react, just moves away, finally letting up the pressure so that Eliot can stand and follow. "Hardison?"
"I got him, already calling to check your cover."
Nate leads Eliot out of the club. He can feel him vibrating with anger and as he turns, Eliot's fist lands full in his face.
"I am not your goddamn pet." The heat rolling off Eliot is intoxicating, the anger mesmerizing. Nate shakes off the punch, holds up his hands.
"I never said that you--"
"Fuck you. Parading me around in there like I'm some fucking plaything? Like I'm...Fuck you!"
"Guys?"
"Fuck you too, Hardison." Eliot says, pulling away when Nate reaches for him. "I mean it."
"Guys? Can we fight more about this when there aren't bad guys with guns coming your way?"
Nate moves fast, grabbing Eliot by the hair and yanking him in, bending his head away as if to feed. "Hold still," he hisses in Eliot's ear, looking up as the doors open and their mark comes out with his array of bodyguards and the boy on the leash.
He bites, but doesn't really drink, just enough to bloody his lips, and Eliot calms, presses against him. He lifts his face and Marquez raises a hand in greeting, a small smile on his face. Nate holds Eliot there until the car pulls away.
Once the danger is past, Eliot pushes him away. "I'm serious." He wipes at his face, at the bloody smear on his neck. His fingers pluck the earpiece out of his ear and he hands it to Nate. "I'll find my own way home."
"Eliot." Nate reaches for him, but he's fast and Nate's left standing alone outside the club.
The valet pulls up with his car, and Nate is tempted to follow Eliot, but figures Eliot needs to cool down and lets him go. "Hardison, where are we?"
"Parker's got it narrowed down to three possible locations. Sophie's working on getting us what we need for when Marquez bites."
"Call me if you need anything…and keep an eye on Eliot."
"How am I going to do that? He took his earpiece out."
"He still has his phone."
"Right. On it."
Eliot stalks down dark streets without really paying attention to where he is going. He's simmering with anger, but he's not really sure what he's angry about. He's been on edge for days, and every time Nate drinks from his refrigerator instead of Eliot it gets worse.
And, considering they've been sharing a suite with the team, and considering that Eliot still comes every damn time Nate bites him, it just hasn't been feasible. Eliot doesn't know where Nate's getting his supply here in Phoenix, but it's obvious he's getting what he needs…and that just irks him further.
He storms around a corner and stops, looking around to get his bearings. He's maybe ten blocks from the hotel…but he isn't sure he's ready to go back there. Not that Nate will be there anyway, not when Eliot knew he needed a drink, in more ways than one. The little taste he got when he was protecting them was enough to make him needy.
And that just sent another rush of anger through him, imagining Nate at some bar, downing whiskey and flirting until he found someone willing…imagining him in some alley with some floozy, drinking alcohol laced blood and heading back to the hotel buzzing with it.
"Fuck that." Eliot decides maybe what he needs is a bar of his own. Maybe a good old fashioned bar brawl to work out some of this aggression.
What he finds instead, as he turns another corner, is something else entirely. He holds up his hands and starts to back away. This is more fight than he was looking for. The gangbanger on the ground is bloodied and only his fingers move, scratching feebly at the concrete. One of the men standing over him kicks him solid in the ribs and the sound is wet.
Eliot licks his lips, shakes his head. "I didn't see anything." He knows that won't fly, knows he's in for some serious pain and readies himself. He's outnumbered and out gunned. He can see at least five knives and two guns and who knew what else they were packing. The leader of the group holds up a hand and they stop, all twelve of them staring at Eliot. That's about when he senses the big guy behind him.
Easily six and a half feet tall, the man towers over Eliot. "Shit." He swings into action, attempting just to get clear enough to make a run for it, but they swirl around him, and for every few punches or kicks he lands, he takes one too.
Then the knife slices into his thigh, and another over his chest. "Wait, hold up." Someone pulls a guy off him as Eliot falls to his knees. The lead pulls the ripped shirt aside. "Fuck, this is one of Marquez's. Look."
The knife point pokes at the mark on his neck.
"Let's get out of here."
Eliot's head is swimming, his vision blurry as they run, leaving him on his knees in the street. He tries to take inventory. The leg wound is fairly serious, bleeding profusely. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, dials Nate's number, but the world is getting dark and he falls under the weight of it before he hears Nate's voice.
Fury fills him. Uncontrolled. It's dangerous and he knows it. But at the moment he doesn't care.
He stands at the window, stares out at the night, snarling at his own reflection. The poor nurse who came in to tell him that visiting hours were over was gone. Nate had felt her leave the hospital, her heart pounding in fear.
He wasn't leaving this room. He would stand there and watch the world burn before he did.
"Nate?"
He turns from the window, his face softening. Eliot blinks, his eyes sweeping the room. Nate can hear his heartbeat, feel the confusion, taste his pain. "Shh...you should be sleeping."
The drugs running through him keep Eliot from really putting it all together. Nate can almost see the scattered memories flitting through him as he sits on the bed, taking Eliot's hand. "I'm right here, and I'm not leaving. You're safe. Sleep."
"Safe..." There's a hint of humor in the word. "My boyfriend is a vampire." Eliot's eyes drift closed. "How's that safe?"
"Because that boyfriend is going to watch over you." Nate murmurs, his hand brushing over Eliot's face.
Eliot's eyes drift closed and Nate watches the drugs and his injuries pull him under. It had been close...so close. Eliot's blood still stains his clothes, and now some of Nate's blood runs in Eliot's veins. It wasn't something he'd ever considered, but Eliot would have bled out before the ambulance got them to the hospital. It was just a small amount. Just enough to keep him alive, to lend him the healing properties of his kind.
Nate's hand is shaking when he lays it on Eliot's chest, over his heart. It beats slow and rhythmically, reassuring Nate that Eliot would live another day, fight more battles. Probably end up in more hospitals along the way.
He listens to that beating for a long moment before he pulls back and turns away. The dawn is coming, and Nate gets up to close the curtains, hoping they'll be enough to protect him from the daylight, because Nate's not going anywhere until he's sure that Eliot isn't going to slip away from him, isn't going to need more from him...then Nate's going to find the men responsible for this and drink them dry.