Sex in Your Violence, Leverage/Justified, NC-17
Fandom: Leverage/Justified
Title: Sex in Your Violence
Pairing: Eliot/Raylan
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 573
Summary: Raylan likes to watch Eliot fight.
A/Ns & Warnings: Today is havenward's birthday. Happy Birthday 'Nabler. Rough, violent sex.
Raylan enters the bar right about when the fight starts, so he doesn't know who started it or why, but he knows in an instant who will win. He helps himself to a beer by leaning over the bar while the bartender makes the stupid mistake of trying to break it up, then sits back, kicking his boots up onto the table to watch.
See there ain't too much in the world prettier than watching a man like Eliot move. Now Eliot might object to the word pretty, but Raylan knows that's what he is. He's grace and power and control, and he shivers to think what the man would be without that control.
When one of the beaten tries to come back with a knife, Raylan cocks his gun and grins. "I wouldn't if I were you."
He tips back the beer, swallowing as Eliot kicks in a knee and rides his opponent to the ground, landing a blow across his jaw.
He's tight jeans and work boots and a leather jacket that moves with him like a second skin, his hands hard, his head harder and he uses all three as weapons, taking down five men before he turns on Raylan.
He puts the gun back in its holster before Eliot hauls him up from the chair, slams him into the wall and before Raylan can say a word he's being kissed, hard and angry and fists hold him in place as Eliot takes what he wants.
"You like what you see?" Eliot growls when he finally backs off a little.
Raylan's mouth can't make words though and instead just chases after Eliot's, making him chuckle. "Can't stay here…law might come." Eliot says rough and raw.
Raylan nods raggedly and points to the door. "My room's that way."
They barely make it into the room, slamming the door, before Eliot is on him and they crash into the dresser and off the bed onto the floor, somehow managing to lose enough of their clothes that Eliot's cock is digging into him and normally he isn't one to be taken so easily, but Eliot's hands are hard and Raylan wants what he's giving bad enough to not care who gets to be on top.
Don't mean he'll make it easy though, shoving back into Eliot's stroke, reaching back to grab at him hard enough to leave bruises. They tussle as much as they fuck, ending up with Raylan on his back on the floor while Eliot holds his left leg and shoves his cock up inside him. Raylan's getting rug burn and Eliot's grunting and fuck if it ain't the hottest damn sex he's had in a while.
When it's over, and they've both come hard enough to white out the world, Eliot goes to shower and leaves Raylan a mass of bruised flesh on the floor. He crawls to the table and pours a shot of whiskey, pulling his jeans on, but not bothering to zip, just sitting gingerly after righting the chair and sipping on his whiskey.
Eliot comes out a few minutes later, his skin wet, his jeans likewise on, but not zipped up. He takes Raylan's glass and swallows the whiskey. "You got some violence in your sex, Son." Eliot says, poking at the bruises on his hips and rib cage.
Raylan pours more whiskey and looks up at him. "You got some sex in your violence, Boy."
Title: Sex in Your Violence
Pairing: Eliot/Raylan
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 573
Summary: Raylan likes to watch Eliot fight.
A/Ns & Warnings: Today is havenward's birthday. Happy Birthday 'Nabler. Rough, violent sex.
Raylan enters the bar right about when the fight starts, so he doesn't know who started it or why, but he knows in an instant who will win. He helps himself to a beer by leaning over the bar while the bartender makes the stupid mistake of trying to break it up, then sits back, kicking his boots up onto the table to watch.
See there ain't too much in the world prettier than watching a man like Eliot move. Now Eliot might object to the word pretty, but Raylan knows that's what he is. He's grace and power and control, and he shivers to think what the man would be without that control.
When one of the beaten tries to come back with a knife, Raylan cocks his gun and grins. "I wouldn't if I were you."
He tips back the beer, swallowing as Eliot kicks in a knee and rides his opponent to the ground, landing a blow across his jaw.
He's tight jeans and work boots and a leather jacket that moves with him like a second skin, his hands hard, his head harder and he uses all three as weapons, taking down five men before he turns on Raylan.
He puts the gun back in its holster before Eliot hauls him up from the chair, slams him into the wall and before Raylan can say a word he's being kissed, hard and angry and fists hold him in place as Eliot takes what he wants.
"You like what you see?" Eliot growls when he finally backs off a little.
Raylan's mouth can't make words though and instead just chases after Eliot's, making him chuckle. "Can't stay here…law might come." Eliot says rough and raw.
Raylan nods raggedly and points to the door. "My room's that way."
They barely make it into the room, slamming the door, before Eliot is on him and they crash into the dresser and off the bed onto the floor, somehow managing to lose enough of their clothes that Eliot's cock is digging into him and normally he isn't one to be taken so easily, but Eliot's hands are hard and Raylan wants what he's giving bad enough to not care who gets to be on top.
Don't mean he'll make it easy though, shoving back into Eliot's stroke, reaching back to grab at him hard enough to leave bruises. They tussle as much as they fuck, ending up with Raylan on his back on the floor while Eliot holds his left leg and shoves his cock up inside him. Raylan's getting rug burn and Eliot's grunting and fuck if it ain't the hottest damn sex he's had in a while.
When it's over, and they've both come hard enough to white out the world, Eliot goes to shower and leaves Raylan a mass of bruised flesh on the floor. He crawls to the table and pours a shot of whiskey, pulling his jeans on, but not bothering to zip, just sitting gingerly after righting the chair and sipping on his whiskey.
Eliot comes out a few minutes later, his skin wet, his jeans likewise on, but not zipped up. He takes Raylan's glass and swallows the whiskey. "You got some violence in your sex, Son." Eliot says, poking at the bruises on his hips and rib cage.
Raylan pours more whiskey and looks up at him. "You got some sex in your violence, Boy."