Uncharted, Nate/Elena, NC-17
Title: Through the Viewfinder
Pairing: Nathan Drake/Elena Fisher
Summary: Elena does some filming, Nate does some shooting, and a camera falls to its death.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 6,244
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Dedicated to my darling wildebrian. Also, why do I end up writing for fandoms that are either dead or don't exist? This has not been beta'd, so feel free to point out mistakes/offer concrit.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with Uncharted or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
The tropical night is stifling, curling heavily about Nate’s body, each breath dragging hot air into his lungs. Sweat builds up and drips down his neck, straight between his hunched shoulders and it would be intolerable if he could actually focus on it instead of the inane nattering coming from ten feet to his left in the undergrowth. Elena’s talking to her damn camera again and not for the first time he imagines himself grabbing it and launching it over the side of the nearest cliff. He pictures her face morphing from surprise to anger, but then he remembers her right hook and rubs his stubbled jaw absentmindedly. Perhaps not the best idea then.
He hears the words Spaniards and 16th Century and promptly tunes her back out again, turning his attention once more to the gun he’s attempting to clean with little success; sticks and leaves just won’t cut it, which is precisely why he uses spit and two fingers instead. He just hopes Elena doesn’t come stumbling through the trees, camera in hand, recording him with a string of saliva connecting his mouth to his knuckles. It’s not his best look, he’ll admit.
Atoq’s men keep their weapons in fairly decent condition considering and the ones he’s stolen seem to only need wiping down, the crusty blood that’s dried twice over flaking off easily in his hands. He slides the clip of the beretta out and slowly tugs each cartridge free, cleaning each one with the hem of his shirt. By the time he slips them back into place and loads the gun once more, Elena’s voice fades away and he can hear leaves crunching underfoot.
“Finished talking to your loyal audience?” he asks as she steps through into the clearing they’ve set up camp in.
“One of us has to do our job.”
“I’ll have you know I resent that. I’m fairly good at being an ancestor.”
“Thought you might.” She yawns and stretches her arms over her head, shirt riding up just enough that Nate can see the softness of her stomach before she tugs it back down. “I’m going to call it a night; long day ahead of us.”
“Yeah, one of us has to keep our asses from getting shot. And I mean me,” he adds quickly.
Elena scoffs quietly, half of her face shadowed by the full moon overhead, but he can still see her smile.
“I thought we made a pretty good team.”
He stays silent, letting her interpret it her own way, which earns him a soft punch to the shoulder.
“Hey! I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly.”
“Women,” he mumbles under his breath, but doesn’t mean it at all. He realises she must already know because she doesn’t hit him again. Instead, she drops gracefully to the soft mossy ground beside him and curls up between two branching tree roots, just wide enough to frame her form. With her hands folded under her cheek she closes her eyes and sighs quietly.
“Goodnight, Nate.”
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” he replies, as he carefully picks two or three leaves off her leg, fingers barely grazing her warm skin, but with enough intent that he knows she can’t ignore it.
He tucks his gun back into its holster and shifts against the stump he’s leaning back on. He shuts his eyes but doesn’t sleep, listening out for any signs of Atoq’s men, though he only hears Elena’s soft, even breathing.
*
It’s when Elena disappears behind two trees to quickly relieve herself that he notices her camera resting alone upon the ground. He scoops it up and switches it on with minimal trouble, peering through the viewfinder at nearby plants. He points it upwards, zooming in on two brightly coloured birds perched together on a branch high above; they peck at each other, squawking loudly before they climb on top of each other and - oh god. He pans away quickly and almost lets out a yell of surprise when he’s greeted with a close-up of Elena’s face.
“It’s not a toy,” she complains, holding her hand out to take it back, but Nate keeps it, holding it close to his chest.
“How does this thing even have battery left?” he asks, turning it in his hands, as though he even begins to know how it works. He’s seen her flip out the screen enough times, so he finds that easy enough to do, though she glares at him mildly. There are small icons across the bottom of the display and his large fingers accidentally mash two at the same time and the camera starts making a strange whirring noise. He presses down again and it thankfully stops, but instead his own voice, sounding tinny from the small speaker, starts. He’s complaining about the heat which is no big surprise, but the fact that Elena even filmed it is. The camera zooms in, focusing briefly on his shoulders moving as he walks before finding the side of his face. His brows are pinched with annoyance and there’s sweat upon his skin.
“You can turn it off,” Elena says, snapping his attention away from the video, but he doesn’t listen. The scene changes on the screen and now it’s Nate standing at the edge of a cliff looking out across the ocean, his shirt ruffling with the wind. For once Nate isn’t saying anything and the only sound is the noise of the waves far below.
The next scene shows Nate huddled beside a burning oil drum, his hands held out for heat in the obviously cool night. The picture zooms in on Nate’s face and Nate glances up at the faint noise.
“Come around to the left,” he jokes, “that’s my best side.”
Off-camera, Elena snorts in amusement and the picture shifts to the ground before it turns black and stops completely.
“What are you making, a documentary about me?”
He laughs and looks at Elena, but her smile is clearly fake as she snatches her camera back.
“There’s not much else to film.”
“Yeah, I guess the guys with guns and the ancient runes just don’t cut it for good television these days. A handsome face sure does, though.”
He smirks and Elena turns the camera off, folding the screen away with a gentle click.
“Let’s go,” she says and he can see in her eyes that it’s a futile attempt to change the subject.
“Is that embarrassment I see?”
“It’s annoyance.”
“Because you know that I know that you think I’m handsome?”
“You said that yourself, not me.”
“You didn’t deny it,” he jokes, but she doesn’t laugh, just blinks and looks away, a red tinge colouring her cheeks.
It’s suddenly tense as Nate realises he’s overstep a fair few boundaries that were probably there for a reason. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and begins walking, hoping Elena will follow; she does, leaving only a few paces between them. He can stand the silence only for a few moments before he turns, walking backwards and hoping that there isn’t a tree root to trip him up.
“It’s okay, you know,” he says and Elena glances up, her expression surprisingly open. “I think I’m handsome too.”
She laughs, a full sound that she doesn’t even attempt to cover, and leans forward to slap his chest gently with one hand. He captures it quickly and tugs her forward, stopping only when she’s leaning on him to stop from tumbling over, then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her cheek.
“I won’t tell anyone your secret, don’t worry.”
He lets her go and Elena clears her throat, briefly filling the silence. He turns away, but not before he sees her bring a hand to her face and run a thumb over the spot where Nate’s lips were. As quickly as it happens, Elena’s arm is back at her side and Nate’s leading the way, mouth tingling and heart racing.
*
It’s an unlucky moment when they encounter a few mercenaries and one of them happens to throw a grenade their way causing the box they’re hiding behind to explode, sending wooden shards in every direction. He gets hit in the stomach, the pain drawing a startled yell from him, and his hands shake, but he delivers two clean headshots to the last men standing then drops back down to the floor.
“Ow!” he complains, pulling his torn shirt up over the wound. The splinter is only as big as his finger and isn’t as deep as he thought it would be. It’s only then that he glances over at Elena and finds her carefully touching a bloodied mess on her shoulder. He knows she’s tough enough to deal with it herself, but he can’t help but shift closer and touch her knee lightly.
“You okay?”
“I’ve been better,” she replies, wiping at her skin and smudging the sticky blood across her fingertips. “I don’t think there’s anything in there; I’m pretty sure it’s just a graze.”
She pulls a flask from her pocket and unscrews the lid, pouring a little water over the cut. It dilutes the blood turning it a pale rose colour instead and the skin is torn, but as far as Nate can see, it looks clean apart from a few stray splinters around the edges.
“That was lucky,” he says, fidgeting with his own pain. “Damnit,” he curses and Elena finally looks over, eyes quickly darting from his stomach to his face and back again.
“Nate?”
“It’ll be fine, just - just tug it out quickly.”
“You want me to do it?”
“It’s like a band-aid,” he explains, if only to take his mind off everything. “It’s better to get someone else to do it and to just rip it off in one go. I’ll count to three?”
She still looks faintly unsure, but she curls one warm palm around his side and brings the other up level to the splinter. She glances at him once, silently telling him she’s ready and he takes a deep breath.
“One, two - Ow! I said on three!”
Elena holds the piece of wood up for him to see then casually throws it aside.
“If I’d waited, you would have tensed up and made it hurt even more. I did you a favour.”
“Alright Doctor Fisher. Next time I’ll do it myself.”
“I didn’t volunteer to help, you signed me up all on your own, so don’t blame me.”
Nate steals the water bottle from at her side and empties it over his cut, cleaning it carefully. His undershirt is thin enough that he can easily tear off part of the sleeve and bunch it up, packing it over the wound to stem the bleeding.
“That’ll do for now,” he mutters, tugging his clothes back into place and Elena stands, offering him her hand. He takes it in his slightly warmer grip and heaves himself up.
“I’m pretty sure there was a freshwater stream not too far back. We can clean up and make sure these don’t get infected.”
Nate finally uncurls his fingers from around her wrist and drops his arms to his side. They collect all the ammo they need then Nate follows Elena’s lead as she sets off into the brush, pushing aside leaves bigger than her entire body and hopping over tree roots. Nate keeps one palm cupped over his stomach and lets his eyes rove for any signs of movement. The only sounds around them are the frequent flapping of bird wings as they spook from the branches overhead and eventually the quiet rushing of water.
Their improvised path opens up into a clearing as they reach the stream’s bank and Nate doesn’t even stop as he steps into it and wades into the middle where it comes up to his waist. There isn’t a strong current, but it’s enough that if Nate were to float on his back, he’d end up drifting downstream at a steady pace.
He sighs loudly as the water cools his heated skin and gently peels his shirt away from his skin to check on his cut. There’s fresh blood bubbling around the edges and Nate knows it’s from where the cotton has rubbed it raw again. He dabs it with the scrap of sleeve and picks out one or two stray splinters.
“Let me see your nails,” he says suddenly and Elena looks up from where she’s picking at her own wound.
“What?”
“Come here.”
He moves to the bank, where the water level is lower and Elena crouches down, offering her right hand. He dunks it under the water and swipes his thumb across her fingertips before pulling it back out. It’s not exactly clean, but it’ll do. Her nails are neatly trimmed, but still longer than his own blunt ones and they’re the next best thing to tweezers he has.
He tries to hold his shirt up and manoeuvre her hand at the same time, but it doesn’t work as well as he’d hoped. He ends up shucking off his holster and stripping his two shirts straight up over his head. He throws them with a loud smack onto a nearby rock and turns back to Elena.
“Right,” he says, fingers stretching his cut tight; it starts bleeding a little more with the strain, but he pays no attention. “Can you see that splinter there?”
Elena leans in closer, loose hair blowing in the slight breeze, tickling his skin. He tries to focus on her touch, the light brushing of her left thumb against his hip as her right hand pinches, easily gripping the splinter and pulling it free.
“Got it!”
She glances briefly up at him, her mouth wide and amused, and it puts all sort s of terrible thoughts into his mind. He attempts to take a step back, further into the water, but she digs her fingertips into his side and holds him in place.
“Wait! There’s another one here I can get.”
He doesn’t think it’s even possible for her to lean any closer, but she does, this time her even breaths heat the area just above his navel and she has approximately twenty seconds before things start getting awkward for him and he does something he’ll regret later. She bites her lip in concentration then lets out a quick cry of triumph, holding her finger up and showing Nate the other splinter she’s dug out.
“You’re lucky you have me with you,” she jokes before wiping her hand on her thigh and standing back up. With a lot less grace, she steps off the bank and splashes through the water, walking around Nate to get to the deeper sections, before she dunks down up to her neck. Below the clear surface, Nate can see her rubbing her palm over her own injury, cleaning away dirt and grime with easy strokes; she doesn’t even wince.
“Can you check it?” she asks and for a moment Nate forgets how to speak because she stands up and her shirts cling so wonderfully to her form and her bra does nothing to hide how cold the water is. He hates himself for it and blames his penis one hundred percent, but he can’t deny that she’s beautiful. “Nate?”
He shakes his head and slowly steps closer, his hands falling to her cool, damp upper arms. He can’t see anything, but he squints and leans in just a little more to make sure, and Elena’s hand shifts up to cup the back of his head almost reflexively. Just as quickly as he feels it, it falls away, an apology already on Elena’s lips, but he flicks his gaze to her face where a light pink hue of embarrassment sits, and quietens her with a shake of his head.
“How does it look?” she asks instead, shrugging her shoulder to peer closer at it, accidentally knocking Nate in the nose as she does so. It doesn’t hurt, but he blinks and pulls back in surprise and there’s an expression on her face that says she’s sorry, even with the word already halfway out of her mouth. He curls a hand around her elbow and squeezes gently.
“It’s fine.”
He takes a step back and finds himself stumbling over a rock underfoot, making him lose his balance and topple backwards. Water curls up over him and he hits the riverbed before he can lift himself back up, choking on a breath that’s only half air. Elena’s laughing and pushing forward to grab his wrist and help him get his balance back, and his glare isn’t at all real. The corners of his mouth curve up and he lets out a deep rumble of laughter before swearing.
“I’ve lost all my street cred, now.”
“I doubt you had any to begin with.”
He cups his palm under the surface of the river and launches a wave of water at Elena who laughs and ducks, but gets soaked anyway. He watches her wipe her face in the crook of her elbow then moves to the river’s edge, hoisting himself up on the bank, leaving his legs swaying in the water.
“You okay?” Elena asks, eyes pointedly roving down his body to his stomach. He cups a hand over his wound and shrugs.
“I will be.”
There’s a brief pause before Elena speaks again.
“I’ve been thinking,” she starts and Nate opens his mouth, joke half-formed, but she beats him to the punch line. “I know, dangerous, right?”
His mouth clicks shut and she smiles gently at him.
“About what you said a while back, I mean, I just, what I’m trying to say is - ”
She seems to give up, using a deep sigh as emphasis, or possibly punctuation.
“You’re ready to admit the obvious? You know, it’ll make you feel better if you say it out loud. It’s just three words: Nate, you’re handsome.”
“Nate, you wish.”
He laughs and goes to say something else, but Elena steps forward and curls her palm over his mouth.
“Shh,” she says and Nate hums in the back of his throat as though he’s about to say something, but cuts himself off. When she peels her fingers away, he licks his lips without truly meaning to, but he can’t taste anything other than cool river water. When she steps closer, he keeps quiet, letting her make her own moves, while he waits patiently to see what she’ll do. She ends up moving forward, almost pressing against his legs, her hands falling underwater to curve around his knees. She watches his face as though trying to read his thoughts and predict whether or not he’ll shift away if she gets any closer, but he’s already told her everything she needs to know; he’s okay with it, with everything.
She keeps her eyes open as she leans forward - Nate knows because he does the same - and when he can feel her breath warming his chin, he tilts his head minutely to the side and Elena seems to sense the change, because she’s the perfect reflection of his pose when she tips her head back and brushes their lips together.
It’s soft and tentative, leaving them both the option to pull away, but they don’t and after a moment of chaste, closed-mouth kisses, Nate slides a hand up into Elena’s hair, thumb rubbing circles behind her ear. She responds by raising her arms and clutching at his shoulders, fingers pressing firmly into his cool skin. His mind reels at the feel of her and hopes he isn’t pushing her too hard, too fast when he runs his tongue along her bottom lip and presses his way into her mouth. She lets out a half-choked noise and readily returns the kiss, her own tongue brushing smoothly over his.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of the heat she gives off and the way she ever-so-gently nibbles at his bottom lip periodically. He pictures himself hoisting Elena out of the water and lying back, letting her cover his body with her own, but instead, he slips his other hand down to the small of her back and tugs her forward, between his knees.
It’s then that she breaks the kiss, pulling away, her mouth shining in the sunlight and just a little beyond pink, and he curses himself.
“Sorry,” he says in a rush of air, trying to catch his breath and apologise at the same time. She presses a hand against his chest and smoothes it down between his nipples.
“No, it’s not that, that was fine, I just - ” she pauses, tilting her head slightly as though listening out for something. “Voices!”
It’s only when he pays attention beyond the cawing of birds and rustling of leaves that he hears it: the deep sound of voices not too far away. He reaches across for his shirts, pulling them on before slipping into his holster, as Elena climbs out of the river, gun already in hand.
“They must be stragglers from earlier,” he mutters quietly, moving to the edge of the trees and peering through for signs of movement.
“Ready?” Elena asks and Nate hesitates; she notices, a look of curiosity on her face. “What is it?”
“That kiss was only ‘fine’ by your standards?”
“Nate!” she complains, though her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Well, what if I get shot in a minute and my last dying thought is ‘Elena only thought it was fine’?”
“Then make sure not to die.” She pauses and as though her conscience gets the better of her, she sighs. “Alright, it was great, okay? I’d probably do it again.”
“Now?”
She gestures exasperatedly into the undergrowth, pointing out their more pressing issue and he shrugs.
“Later then.” He laughs, dipping close and pressing one last kiss to her lips. “Lighten up.”
She shoves him lightly and flicks the safety off her gun, this time letting Nate follow her as she steps over a log and winds her way towards the voices beyond.
*
Elena’s quiet as they set up for the night in the abandoned port city, the roof of the room they’re in half-crumbled letting in a view of the night sky. It’s cooler by the water and Nate rests by the window, hoping to stop the draft from reaching Elena, but he can still see her goosebumps in the moonlight.
“You could have killed us with that move in the jeep earlier,” she says, breaking the silence.
“We would have been killed if we’d stayed. Isn’t it better to take a risk in that situation?”
She rolls over onto her side, facing Nate while leaning on one elbow.
“I really thought we were goners.”
“Well, you were a dab hand at that grenade launcher. Those guys didn’t stand a chance.”
“Yeah, no thanks to your terrible jet ski driving.”
Nate attempts to look put out, but ends up laughing instead.
“Well, it’s not as though I spend my weekends driving them. Four wheels and dry land suits me just fine.”
“I trust you, Nate, just sometimes - ”
“ - I scare the ever-loving shit out of you?”
“Yeah, that’s about right.”
She reaches forward with her free hand and runs her fingers through Nate’s hair, spiking it from where it sits flat. He catches her wrist as she begins to pull away and drops a soft kiss to her palm before letting go. He hardly sees her move, but suddenly she’s pressed against his chest, wrapping an arm around his side and holding him close, her nose nudging just under his jaw. Her mouth is hot against his skin, her teeth sharp as she nips lightly at his throat, and he has just enough sense to slide his hand behind her neck, keeping her in place even as they roll, Nate finding himself flat upon his back, rocks digging into his body.
It’s hard and fast and Nate can hardly keep up. He curls his fingers into Elena’s hair and tugs just hard enough to get her attention and she pulls away breathing heavily, her eyes bright and focussed.
“Where’s the fire?”
She tenses almost imperceptively and pulls her hand away from Nate’s chest.
“Oh god,” she says, rubbing at her face with one palm. “You don’t want this, do you?”
Nate sits up before Elena has the chance to pull away completely and brings their mouths together again, kissing her until she draws away, too breathless to continue.
“Of course I want this,” he replies, tucking a loose strand of Elena’s hair behind her ear. “But do you really think this is the best place?”
“Scared one of Atoq’s men might be a voyeur?”
It makes him laugh and he quickly kisses her again.
“What if they come knocking?”
“Then you’d better hope that your aim is impeccable in the midst of wild, sordid passion.”
He snorts and glances away before meeting her eyes and holding them just a little past comfortable.
“I like you,” he says, leaning over her, curling one hand around her back, and lowering her to the floor.
“Well if you didn’t, we’d have a problem.”
She pulls him down and this time her kiss is slow and drawn out, her mouth moving perfectly against Nate’s.
“God,” he murmurs, voice muffled and Elena slips her tongue into his mouth, stopping him from saying anything more; he’s more than happy to comply, sucking quickly on Elena’s bottom lip and feeling the vibrations of the noise she lets out in response.
He lets his right hand wander, grazing down her arm, thumb pressing in and rubbing at the underside of her breast as it passes. Her body shifts, asking for more without saying a word, and Nate has no qualms about slipping his fingers under the hems of her shirts, rucking them up just below the line of her bra.
He doesn’t want to break the kiss, but he does, only so he can trace his mouth over her jaw and down her throat, leaving light marks in his wake, sucking her skin just hard enough to draw uneven breaths from her.
“Nate,” she moans, hands tangling in his shirt, pulling and drawing his mouth across her collarbone and down between her breasts as one of Nate’s fingers tugs her tank tops down. Her skin is salty, the leftover sweat from the day still clinging to her body, but he doesn’t mind at all because it’s exactly how he’s imagined she would taste. He moves his hand away and shifts to drag his teeth over a nipple, knowing Elena’s clothes will mute the feeling, but despite that she still gasps, her hips moving below him.
He glances up at her, a smirk on his lips, but Elena’s not even looking, her eyes closed, mouth slightly open, head tipped back. He shifts lower, pressing his mouth to the skin of her stomach, his curses muffled by the softness. He circles his tongue around her bellybutton, leaving biting kisses against her flesh while his fingers unbutton and unzip her shorts, tugging them down her hips as Elena raises herself briefly to help. The pad of his thumb gently brushes over stubbled hair that’s there from a lack of shaving before veering sideways, missing where she spreads her legs to have him touch, rubbing the inside of her thigh instead.
“Nate,” she complains, voice quiet but clearly full of want. He presses his smiling mouth against her skin, letting her feel it before he curls one hand under her left knee and slips her leg over his shoulder. He runs his hand up and down her thigh as he lowers his mouth, the flat of his tongue sliding slowly over her clit. She arches her back, tightening her grip on him as she rolls down against his mouth as he continues his deliberately unhurried pace.
“Nate, Nate, god, I hate you so much right now.”
He laughs against her, lips vibrating which only seems to frustrate her more as her hands twist into his hair, tugging hard enough that his scalp burns, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good.
“What do you want?” he murmurs, sliding his tongue down and flicking it lazily against her opening. “This? Or this?”
He doesn’t give her time to ask what he means before he thrusts his tongue gently inside her, mouth stretching wide to push in as far as he can.
“Oh god!” she gasps above him, fingers tightening even more. “Don’t stop. Please!”
He’s can’t ignore her request, not when she’s breathing it so wonderfully below him, voice wavering, syllables drawn out as though she can’t quite stop herself. He continues slipping his tongue in and out of her, jaw aching and saliva sticking them together. She’s beyond wet and the taste of her is sharp in his mouth, filling his senses and his cock with its headiness. He feels her thighs shaking either side of his head, the muscles twitching as she raises her hips and meets his thrusts halfway, and he knows she won’t last long.
When he draws his tongue out of her, she sighs, the sound high and almost keening, but it turns silent as he slides his mouth over her clit and sucks gently. It drives him half-mad to know he’s giving her so much pleasure and it’s his own selfishness that compels him to slip two fingers into her and watch her fall apart. She moans Nate’s name, the sound of it drawing out as she bucks and pushes against his mouth and hand, coming with just a squeeze of the muscles around his fingers until she drops her hips back to the floor, body slumped in a pose of pure exhaustion.
He pulls away, dropping a kiss to the knee over his shoulder before lowering it back to the ground. She looks beyond amazing sprawled out in front of him, legs splayed open, modesty gone in the wake of tiredness. When she opens her eyes at looks down at him, he can’t help but move up her body until he can finally kiss her again. She doesn’t recoil at the taste of herself, but her tongue flicks tentatively into his mouth as though unsure.
He thinks about kissing her until she falls asleep and then jerking himself off and he knows it wouldn’t take him long; he’s already leaking in his underwear, the head of his cock sticking wetly to the fabric, rubbing tantalisingly each time he moves. However, with one hand, Elena gently pushes Nate away, letting him sit back on his heels, and for a second he worries he’s overstepped an invisible line, but instead, she pulls her shorts back up and fastens them before rolling onto her knees and shifting closer to him. Her legs are hot against his knees, even through his pants, and it’s with her teeth nipping at his bottom lip that she reaches down to unbutton and tug the offending material down. She’s careful as she tugs his cock from his underwear, pushing the waistband down to rest snugly behind his balls, but he still hisses into her mouth at the feeling.
Elena glances down quickly, looking back up at him with a cocked eyebrow and he’ll admit he’s a little smug about that reaction.
She turns away briefly to spit into her palm - as though it’s the worst thing Nate will see her do - and wraps it firmly around his erection, sliding it wetly up until she cups the head and twists her hand gently. He can’t help but buck up against her, his cock slipping momentarily from her grasp and nudging against her bare stomach, and now it’s his turn to spout nonsense, though mostly half-formed swearwords. He wraps an arm around her waist, shifting them closer as their lips meet once more, and Elena’s hand tugs him confidently, as though there’s no doubt in her mind about what she’s doing to him. He rolls his hips softly, meeting her strokes, and hopes she doesn’t judge his stamina too much because he can feel his orgasm building and all it takes is a rough twist of her palm and a whispered “C’mon, Nate,” before he’s coming over her knuckles and the hem of his shirt.
She tugs him through the pleasure, mouth open against his own, moving with determination, not even paying attention to the rough rasp of Nate’s stubble that he can hear against her face. He sucks on her tongue as his hips slowly come to a halt, his cock too sensitised to feel good, and she lets him go as he reaches blindly for her wrist. After one or two more deep kisses, Elena pulls back, meeting Nate’s eyes. He goes to open his mouth, but forgets what he’s about to say when she brings her hand up to her lips and begins licking it clean.
“Holy shit.”
She smirks around her fingers, but doesn’t stop until every drop of come is gone - and every cell in Nate’s brain has suddenly vanished. She drops her clean hand to Nate’s thigh, rubbing gently as she leans in and kisses him and - oh - he realises why she was hesitant earlier because tasting himself on her tongue is completely strange, but he doesn’t stop until she finally breaks it herself.
He fumbles with his button-fly as he pulls his clothes back into place, but she doesn’t mock him, just shifts away to fall back against the nearest wall and runs a hand through her mussed hair; she re-ties it quickly, already finished by the time Nate falls to rest beside her. There’s a heavy silence between them and Nate doesn’t know if it’s good or bad; he’s hoping she’s just speechless, though it turns out she isn’t.
“Do you think that was just adrenaline?” she asks, picking at something under her nail and he really hope it isn’t come because that’s just awkward.
“Do you?” he retorts and he can tell she isn’t happy with the way she shoots him a pointed look. “I don’t think so,” he eventually admits, shifting just barely enough for their shoulders to brush. “It might have helped, but I think it was going to happen anyway. No one can resist my charm, not even you, Miss Fisher.”
She laughs and the sound is like music to his ears; if she’s happy, he’s happy.
“It probably was the wrong time and place, though,” she admits, tilting her head back to look at him. “I’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”
“And the day after and the day after that.”
“What makes you sure this will happen again?”
“Because Atoq’s men aren’t going anywhere, so that adrenaline will be back to help.”
“Maybe I’ll just deal with it by myself.”
“Maybe I’ll just watch.”
Their faces are mere inches apart and it’s Elena who leans up and presses their mouths together, her kiss soft and easy. When she finally pulls away, her head drops to Nate’s shoulder and she curls further against him. It’s quiet until the silence gets the better of Nate.
“Maybe we can use your camera,” he murmurs, mouth resting against Elena’s head, but there’s no response, not even a laugh. He leans back, curving his neck to look at her face and finds it relaxed, her eyes shut and lips gently parted as she breathes quietly. He kisses her head one last time before he makes himself more comfortable and shuts his own eyes, falling easily asleep in no time.
*
Nate can’t figure out if Elena losing her camera is the best or worst thing to happen to him so far. The best because he now doesn’t have to put up with her filming him every five minutes, but the worst because he doesn’t have to put up with her filming him every five minutes. He won’t admit it to her just yet, but he’s sure he’ll miss her narration and the way she spots little details with more enthusiasm than he thinks they truly deserve.
His heart’s in his throat the moment she starts slipping from his grip and he’s glad she has more sense - though he never truly doubted it - not to argue, to just let the camera fall to the rocks below. When they reach the safety of solid ground again, he thinks about pulling her into his arms and kissing her softly, but when he looks at her, see’s how shaken she is, he realises that’s not what she needs.
“I guess you’re just going to have to look at me without the viewfinder,” he jokes and she pauses before pulling a face.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He nudges her gently with his shoulder and she rolls with it, letting out a snort of laughter. “If - I mean - when we find Sir Francis Drake’s fortune, I’ll spend it on a new one. One with a setting I can use to blur you out.”
He laughs, but stops walking, waiting for her to turn around before he speaks.
“You’re going to pawn off gold from El Dorado to get a new camera?”
She pauses and purses her lips in thought.
“No, I guess you’re right. I’ll buy two cameras, that way you can return the favour.”
“Trust me,” he says, shooting her a sly grin, “you won’t want to look at footage I shoot.”
Pairing: Nathan Drake/Elena Fisher
Summary: Elena does some filming, Nate does some shooting, and a camera falls to its death.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 6,244
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Dedicated to my darling wildebrian. Also, why do I end up writing for fandoms that are either dead or don't exist? This has not been beta'd, so feel free to point out mistakes/offer concrit.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with Uncharted or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
The tropical night is stifling, curling heavily about Nate’s body, each breath dragging hot air into his lungs. Sweat builds up and drips down his neck, straight between his hunched shoulders and it would be intolerable if he could actually focus on it instead of the inane nattering coming from ten feet to his left in the undergrowth. Elena’s talking to her damn camera again and not for the first time he imagines himself grabbing it and launching it over the side of the nearest cliff. He pictures her face morphing from surprise to anger, but then he remembers her right hook and rubs his stubbled jaw absentmindedly. Perhaps not the best idea then.
He hears the words Spaniards and 16th Century and promptly tunes her back out again, turning his attention once more to the gun he’s attempting to clean with little success; sticks and leaves just won’t cut it, which is precisely why he uses spit and two fingers instead. He just hopes Elena doesn’t come stumbling through the trees, camera in hand, recording him with a string of saliva connecting his mouth to his knuckles. It’s not his best look, he’ll admit.
Atoq’s men keep their weapons in fairly decent condition considering and the ones he’s stolen seem to only need wiping down, the crusty blood that’s dried twice over flaking off easily in his hands. He slides the clip of the beretta out and slowly tugs each cartridge free, cleaning each one with the hem of his shirt. By the time he slips them back into place and loads the gun once more, Elena’s voice fades away and he can hear leaves crunching underfoot.
“Finished talking to your loyal audience?” he asks as she steps through into the clearing they’ve set up camp in.
“One of us has to do our job.”
“I’ll have you know I resent that. I’m fairly good at being an ancestor.”
“Thought you might.” She yawns and stretches her arms over her head, shirt riding up just enough that Nate can see the softness of her stomach before she tugs it back down. “I’m going to call it a night; long day ahead of us.”
“Yeah, one of us has to keep our asses from getting shot. And I mean me,” he adds quickly.
Elena scoffs quietly, half of her face shadowed by the full moon overhead, but he can still see her smile.
“I thought we made a pretty good team.”
He stays silent, letting her interpret it her own way, which earns him a soft punch to the shoulder.
“Hey! I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly.”
“Women,” he mumbles under his breath, but doesn’t mean it at all. He realises she must already know because she doesn’t hit him again. Instead, she drops gracefully to the soft mossy ground beside him and curls up between two branching tree roots, just wide enough to frame her form. With her hands folded under her cheek she closes her eyes and sighs quietly.
“Goodnight, Nate.”
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” he replies, as he carefully picks two or three leaves off her leg, fingers barely grazing her warm skin, but with enough intent that he knows she can’t ignore it.
He tucks his gun back into its holster and shifts against the stump he’s leaning back on. He shuts his eyes but doesn’t sleep, listening out for any signs of Atoq’s men, though he only hears Elena’s soft, even breathing.
*
It’s when Elena disappears behind two trees to quickly relieve herself that he notices her camera resting alone upon the ground. He scoops it up and switches it on with minimal trouble, peering through the viewfinder at nearby plants. He points it upwards, zooming in on two brightly coloured birds perched together on a branch high above; they peck at each other, squawking loudly before they climb on top of each other and - oh god. He pans away quickly and almost lets out a yell of surprise when he’s greeted with a close-up of Elena’s face.
“It’s not a toy,” she complains, holding her hand out to take it back, but Nate keeps it, holding it close to his chest.
“How does this thing even have battery left?” he asks, turning it in his hands, as though he even begins to know how it works. He’s seen her flip out the screen enough times, so he finds that easy enough to do, though she glares at him mildly. There are small icons across the bottom of the display and his large fingers accidentally mash two at the same time and the camera starts making a strange whirring noise. He presses down again and it thankfully stops, but instead his own voice, sounding tinny from the small speaker, starts. He’s complaining about the heat which is no big surprise, but the fact that Elena even filmed it is. The camera zooms in, focusing briefly on his shoulders moving as he walks before finding the side of his face. His brows are pinched with annoyance and there’s sweat upon his skin.
“You can turn it off,” Elena says, snapping his attention away from the video, but he doesn’t listen. The scene changes on the screen and now it’s Nate standing at the edge of a cliff looking out across the ocean, his shirt ruffling with the wind. For once Nate isn’t saying anything and the only sound is the noise of the waves far below.
The next scene shows Nate huddled beside a burning oil drum, his hands held out for heat in the obviously cool night. The picture zooms in on Nate’s face and Nate glances up at the faint noise.
“Come around to the left,” he jokes, “that’s my best side.”
Off-camera, Elena snorts in amusement and the picture shifts to the ground before it turns black and stops completely.
“What are you making, a documentary about me?”
He laughs and looks at Elena, but her smile is clearly fake as she snatches her camera back.
“There’s not much else to film.”
“Yeah, I guess the guys with guns and the ancient runes just don’t cut it for good television these days. A handsome face sure does, though.”
He smirks and Elena turns the camera off, folding the screen away with a gentle click.
“Let’s go,” she says and he can see in her eyes that it’s a futile attempt to change the subject.
“Is that embarrassment I see?”
“It’s annoyance.”
“Because you know that I know that you think I’m handsome?”
“You said that yourself, not me.”
“You didn’t deny it,” he jokes, but she doesn’t laugh, just blinks and looks away, a red tinge colouring her cheeks.
It’s suddenly tense as Nate realises he’s overstep a fair few boundaries that were probably there for a reason. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and begins walking, hoping Elena will follow; she does, leaving only a few paces between them. He can stand the silence only for a few moments before he turns, walking backwards and hoping that there isn’t a tree root to trip him up.
“It’s okay, you know,” he says and Elena glances up, her expression surprisingly open. “I think I’m handsome too.”
She laughs, a full sound that she doesn’t even attempt to cover, and leans forward to slap his chest gently with one hand. He captures it quickly and tugs her forward, stopping only when she’s leaning on him to stop from tumbling over, then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her cheek.
“I won’t tell anyone your secret, don’t worry.”
He lets her go and Elena clears her throat, briefly filling the silence. He turns away, but not before he sees her bring a hand to her face and run a thumb over the spot where Nate’s lips were. As quickly as it happens, Elena’s arm is back at her side and Nate’s leading the way, mouth tingling and heart racing.
*
It’s an unlucky moment when they encounter a few mercenaries and one of them happens to throw a grenade their way causing the box they’re hiding behind to explode, sending wooden shards in every direction. He gets hit in the stomach, the pain drawing a startled yell from him, and his hands shake, but he delivers two clean headshots to the last men standing then drops back down to the floor.
“Ow!” he complains, pulling his torn shirt up over the wound. The splinter is only as big as his finger and isn’t as deep as he thought it would be. It’s only then that he glances over at Elena and finds her carefully touching a bloodied mess on her shoulder. He knows she’s tough enough to deal with it herself, but he can’t help but shift closer and touch her knee lightly.
“You okay?”
“I’ve been better,” she replies, wiping at her skin and smudging the sticky blood across her fingertips. “I don’t think there’s anything in there; I’m pretty sure it’s just a graze.”
She pulls a flask from her pocket and unscrews the lid, pouring a little water over the cut. It dilutes the blood turning it a pale rose colour instead and the skin is torn, but as far as Nate can see, it looks clean apart from a few stray splinters around the edges.
“That was lucky,” he says, fidgeting with his own pain. “Damnit,” he curses and Elena finally looks over, eyes quickly darting from his stomach to his face and back again.
“Nate?”
“It’ll be fine, just - just tug it out quickly.”
“You want me to do it?”
“It’s like a band-aid,” he explains, if only to take his mind off everything. “It’s better to get someone else to do it and to just rip it off in one go. I’ll count to three?”
She still looks faintly unsure, but she curls one warm palm around his side and brings the other up level to the splinter. She glances at him once, silently telling him she’s ready and he takes a deep breath.
“One, two - Ow! I said on three!”
Elena holds the piece of wood up for him to see then casually throws it aside.
“If I’d waited, you would have tensed up and made it hurt even more. I did you a favour.”
“Alright Doctor Fisher. Next time I’ll do it myself.”
“I didn’t volunteer to help, you signed me up all on your own, so don’t blame me.”
Nate steals the water bottle from at her side and empties it over his cut, cleaning it carefully. His undershirt is thin enough that he can easily tear off part of the sleeve and bunch it up, packing it over the wound to stem the bleeding.
“That’ll do for now,” he mutters, tugging his clothes back into place and Elena stands, offering him her hand. He takes it in his slightly warmer grip and heaves himself up.
“I’m pretty sure there was a freshwater stream not too far back. We can clean up and make sure these don’t get infected.”
Nate finally uncurls his fingers from around her wrist and drops his arms to his side. They collect all the ammo they need then Nate follows Elena’s lead as she sets off into the brush, pushing aside leaves bigger than her entire body and hopping over tree roots. Nate keeps one palm cupped over his stomach and lets his eyes rove for any signs of movement. The only sounds around them are the frequent flapping of bird wings as they spook from the branches overhead and eventually the quiet rushing of water.
Their improvised path opens up into a clearing as they reach the stream’s bank and Nate doesn’t even stop as he steps into it and wades into the middle where it comes up to his waist. There isn’t a strong current, but it’s enough that if Nate were to float on his back, he’d end up drifting downstream at a steady pace.
He sighs loudly as the water cools his heated skin and gently peels his shirt away from his skin to check on his cut. There’s fresh blood bubbling around the edges and Nate knows it’s from where the cotton has rubbed it raw again. He dabs it with the scrap of sleeve and picks out one or two stray splinters.
“Let me see your nails,” he says suddenly and Elena looks up from where she’s picking at her own wound.
“What?”
“Come here.”
He moves to the bank, where the water level is lower and Elena crouches down, offering her right hand. He dunks it under the water and swipes his thumb across her fingertips before pulling it back out. It’s not exactly clean, but it’ll do. Her nails are neatly trimmed, but still longer than his own blunt ones and they’re the next best thing to tweezers he has.
He tries to hold his shirt up and manoeuvre her hand at the same time, but it doesn’t work as well as he’d hoped. He ends up shucking off his holster and stripping his two shirts straight up over his head. He throws them with a loud smack onto a nearby rock and turns back to Elena.
“Right,” he says, fingers stretching his cut tight; it starts bleeding a little more with the strain, but he pays no attention. “Can you see that splinter there?”
Elena leans in closer, loose hair blowing in the slight breeze, tickling his skin. He tries to focus on her touch, the light brushing of her left thumb against his hip as her right hand pinches, easily gripping the splinter and pulling it free.
“Got it!”
She glances briefly up at him, her mouth wide and amused, and it puts all sort s of terrible thoughts into his mind. He attempts to take a step back, further into the water, but she digs her fingertips into his side and holds him in place.
“Wait! There’s another one here I can get.”
He doesn’t think it’s even possible for her to lean any closer, but she does, this time her even breaths heat the area just above his navel and she has approximately twenty seconds before things start getting awkward for him and he does something he’ll regret later. She bites her lip in concentration then lets out a quick cry of triumph, holding her finger up and showing Nate the other splinter she’s dug out.
“You’re lucky you have me with you,” she jokes before wiping her hand on her thigh and standing back up. With a lot less grace, she steps off the bank and splashes through the water, walking around Nate to get to the deeper sections, before she dunks down up to her neck. Below the clear surface, Nate can see her rubbing her palm over her own injury, cleaning away dirt and grime with easy strokes; she doesn’t even wince.
“Can you check it?” she asks and for a moment Nate forgets how to speak because she stands up and her shirts cling so wonderfully to her form and her bra does nothing to hide how cold the water is. He hates himself for it and blames his penis one hundred percent, but he can’t deny that she’s beautiful. “Nate?”
He shakes his head and slowly steps closer, his hands falling to her cool, damp upper arms. He can’t see anything, but he squints and leans in just a little more to make sure, and Elena’s hand shifts up to cup the back of his head almost reflexively. Just as quickly as he feels it, it falls away, an apology already on Elena’s lips, but he flicks his gaze to her face where a light pink hue of embarrassment sits, and quietens her with a shake of his head.
“How does it look?” she asks instead, shrugging her shoulder to peer closer at it, accidentally knocking Nate in the nose as she does so. It doesn’t hurt, but he blinks and pulls back in surprise and there’s an expression on her face that says she’s sorry, even with the word already halfway out of her mouth. He curls a hand around her elbow and squeezes gently.
“It’s fine.”
He takes a step back and finds himself stumbling over a rock underfoot, making him lose his balance and topple backwards. Water curls up over him and he hits the riverbed before he can lift himself back up, choking on a breath that’s only half air. Elena’s laughing and pushing forward to grab his wrist and help him get his balance back, and his glare isn’t at all real. The corners of his mouth curve up and he lets out a deep rumble of laughter before swearing.
“I’ve lost all my street cred, now.”
“I doubt you had any to begin with.”
He cups his palm under the surface of the river and launches a wave of water at Elena who laughs and ducks, but gets soaked anyway. He watches her wipe her face in the crook of her elbow then moves to the river’s edge, hoisting himself up on the bank, leaving his legs swaying in the water.
“You okay?” Elena asks, eyes pointedly roving down his body to his stomach. He cups a hand over his wound and shrugs.
“I will be.”
There’s a brief pause before Elena speaks again.
“I’ve been thinking,” she starts and Nate opens his mouth, joke half-formed, but she beats him to the punch line. “I know, dangerous, right?”
His mouth clicks shut and she smiles gently at him.
“About what you said a while back, I mean, I just, what I’m trying to say is - ”
She seems to give up, using a deep sigh as emphasis, or possibly punctuation.
“You’re ready to admit the obvious? You know, it’ll make you feel better if you say it out loud. It’s just three words: Nate, you’re handsome.”
“Nate, you wish.”
He laughs and goes to say something else, but Elena steps forward and curls her palm over his mouth.
“Shh,” she says and Nate hums in the back of his throat as though he’s about to say something, but cuts himself off. When she peels her fingers away, he licks his lips without truly meaning to, but he can’t taste anything other than cool river water. When she steps closer, he keeps quiet, letting her make her own moves, while he waits patiently to see what she’ll do. She ends up moving forward, almost pressing against his legs, her hands falling underwater to curve around his knees. She watches his face as though trying to read his thoughts and predict whether or not he’ll shift away if she gets any closer, but he’s already told her everything she needs to know; he’s okay with it, with everything.
She keeps her eyes open as she leans forward - Nate knows because he does the same - and when he can feel her breath warming his chin, he tilts his head minutely to the side and Elena seems to sense the change, because she’s the perfect reflection of his pose when she tips her head back and brushes their lips together.
It’s soft and tentative, leaving them both the option to pull away, but they don’t and after a moment of chaste, closed-mouth kisses, Nate slides a hand up into Elena’s hair, thumb rubbing circles behind her ear. She responds by raising her arms and clutching at his shoulders, fingers pressing firmly into his cool skin. His mind reels at the feel of her and hopes he isn’t pushing her too hard, too fast when he runs his tongue along her bottom lip and presses his way into her mouth. She lets out a half-choked noise and readily returns the kiss, her own tongue brushing smoothly over his.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of the heat she gives off and the way she ever-so-gently nibbles at his bottom lip periodically. He pictures himself hoisting Elena out of the water and lying back, letting her cover his body with her own, but instead, he slips his other hand down to the small of her back and tugs her forward, between his knees.
It’s then that she breaks the kiss, pulling away, her mouth shining in the sunlight and just a little beyond pink, and he curses himself.
“Sorry,” he says in a rush of air, trying to catch his breath and apologise at the same time. She presses a hand against his chest and smoothes it down between his nipples.
“No, it’s not that, that was fine, I just - ” she pauses, tilting her head slightly as though listening out for something. “Voices!”
It’s only when he pays attention beyond the cawing of birds and rustling of leaves that he hears it: the deep sound of voices not too far away. He reaches across for his shirts, pulling them on before slipping into his holster, as Elena climbs out of the river, gun already in hand.
“They must be stragglers from earlier,” he mutters quietly, moving to the edge of the trees and peering through for signs of movement.
“Ready?” Elena asks and Nate hesitates; she notices, a look of curiosity on her face. “What is it?”
“That kiss was only ‘fine’ by your standards?”
“Nate!” she complains, though her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Well, what if I get shot in a minute and my last dying thought is ‘Elena only thought it was fine’?”
“Then make sure not to die.” She pauses and as though her conscience gets the better of her, she sighs. “Alright, it was great, okay? I’d probably do it again.”
“Now?”
She gestures exasperatedly into the undergrowth, pointing out their more pressing issue and he shrugs.
“Later then.” He laughs, dipping close and pressing one last kiss to her lips. “Lighten up.”
She shoves him lightly and flicks the safety off her gun, this time letting Nate follow her as she steps over a log and winds her way towards the voices beyond.
*
Elena’s quiet as they set up for the night in the abandoned port city, the roof of the room they’re in half-crumbled letting in a view of the night sky. It’s cooler by the water and Nate rests by the window, hoping to stop the draft from reaching Elena, but he can still see her goosebumps in the moonlight.
“You could have killed us with that move in the jeep earlier,” she says, breaking the silence.
“We would have been killed if we’d stayed. Isn’t it better to take a risk in that situation?”
She rolls over onto her side, facing Nate while leaning on one elbow.
“I really thought we were goners.”
“Well, you were a dab hand at that grenade launcher. Those guys didn’t stand a chance.”
“Yeah, no thanks to your terrible jet ski driving.”
Nate attempts to look put out, but ends up laughing instead.
“Well, it’s not as though I spend my weekends driving them. Four wheels and dry land suits me just fine.”
“I trust you, Nate, just sometimes - ”
“ - I scare the ever-loving shit out of you?”
“Yeah, that’s about right.”
She reaches forward with her free hand and runs her fingers through Nate’s hair, spiking it from where it sits flat. He catches her wrist as she begins to pull away and drops a soft kiss to her palm before letting go. He hardly sees her move, but suddenly she’s pressed against his chest, wrapping an arm around his side and holding him close, her nose nudging just under his jaw. Her mouth is hot against his skin, her teeth sharp as she nips lightly at his throat, and he has just enough sense to slide his hand behind her neck, keeping her in place even as they roll, Nate finding himself flat upon his back, rocks digging into his body.
It’s hard and fast and Nate can hardly keep up. He curls his fingers into Elena’s hair and tugs just hard enough to get her attention and she pulls away breathing heavily, her eyes bright and focussed.
“Where’s the fire?”
She tenses almost imperceptively and pulls her hand away from Nate’s chest.
“Oh god,” she says, rubbing at her face with one palm. “You don’t want this, do you?”
Nate sits up before Elena has the chance to pull away completely and brings their mouths together again, kissing her until she draws away, too breathless to continue.
“Of course I want this,” he replies, tucking a loose strand of Elena’s hair behind her ear. “But do you really think this is the best place?”
“Scared one of Atoq’s men might be a voyeur?”
It makes him laugh and he quickly kisses her again.
“What if they come knocking?”
“Then you’d better hope that your aim is impeccable in the midst of wild, sordid passion.”
He snorts and glances away before meeting her eyes and holding them just a little past comfortable.
“I like you,” he says, leaning over her, curling one hand around her back, and lowering her to the floor.
“Well if you didn’t, we’d have a problem.”
She pulls him down and this time her kiss is slow and drawn out, her mouth moving perfectly against Nate’s.
“God,” he murmurs, voice muffled and Elena slips her tongue into his mouth, stopping him from saying anything more; he’s more than happy to comply, sucking quickly on Elena’s bottom lip and feeling the vibrations of the noise she lets out in response.
He lets his right hand wander, grazing down her arm, thumb pressing in and rubbing at the underside of her breast as it passes. Her body shifts, asking for more without saying a word, and Nate has no qualms about slipping his fingers under the hems of her shirts, rucking them up just below the line of her bra.
He doesn’t want to break the kiss, but he does, only so he can trace his mouth over her jaw and down her throat, leaving light marks in his wake, sucking her skin just hard enough to draw uneven breaths from her.
“Nate,” she moans, hands tangling in his shirt, pulling and drawing his mouth across her collarbone and down between her breasts as one of Nate’s fingers tugs her tank tops down. Her skin is salty, the leftover sweat from the day still clinging to her body, but he doesn’t mind at all because it’s exactly how he’s imagined she would taste. He moves his hand away and shifts to drag his teeth over a nipple, knowing Elena’s clothes will mute the feeling, but despite that she still gasps, her hips moving below him.
He glances up at her, a smirk on his lips, but Elena’s not even looking, her eyes closed, mouth slightly open, head tipped back. He shifts lower, pressing his mouth to the skin of her stomach, his curses muffled by the softness. He circles his tongue around her bellybutton, leaving biting kisses against her flesh while his fingers unbutton and unzip her shorts, tugging them down her hips as Elena raises herself briefly to help. The pad of his thumb gently brushes over stubbled hair that’s there from a lack of shaving before veering sideways, missing where she spreads her legs to have him touch, rubbing the inside of her thigh instead.
“Nate,” she complains, voice quiet but clearly full of want. He presses his smiling mouth against her skin, letting her feel it before he curls one hand under her left knee and slips her leg over his shoulder. He runs his hand up and down her thigh as he lowers his mouth, the flat of his tongue sliding slowly over her clit. She arches her back, tightening her grip on him as she rolls down against his mouth as he continues his deliberately unhurried pace.
“Nate, Nate, god, I hate you so much right now.”
He laughs against her, lips vibrating which only seems to frustrate her more as her hands twist into his hair, tugging hard enough that his scalp burns, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good.
“What do you want?” he murmurs, sliding his tongue down and flicking it lazily against her opening. “This? Or this?”
He doesn’t give her time to ask what he means before he thrusts his tongue gently inside her, mouth stretching wide to push in as far as he can.
“Oh god!” she gasps above him, fingers tightening even more. “Don’t stop. Please!”
He’s can’t ignore her request, not when she’s breathing it so wonderfully below him, voice wavering, syllables drawn out as though she can’t quite stop herself. He continues slipping his tongue in and out of her, jaw aching and saliva sticking them together. She’s beyond wet and the taste of her is sharp in his mouth, filling his senses and his cock with its headiness. He feels her thighs shaking either side of his head, the muscles twitching as she raises her hips and meets his thrusts halfway, and he knows she won’t last long.
When he draws his tongue out of her, she sighs, the sound high and almost keening, but it turns silent as he slides his mouth over her clit and sucks gently. It drives him half-mad to know he’s giving her so much pleasure and it’s his own selfishness that compels him to slip two fingers into her and watch her fall apart. She moans Nate’s name, the sound of it drawing out as she bucks and pushes against his mouth and hand, coming with just a squeeze of the muscles around his fingers until she drops her hips back to the floor, body slumped in a pose of pure exhaustion.
He pulls away, dropping a kiss to the knee over his shoulder before lowering it back to the ground. She looks beyond amazing sprawled out in front of him, legs splayed open, modesty gone in the wake of tiredness. When she opens her eyes at looks down at him, he can’t help but move up her body until he can finally kiss her again. She doesn’t recoil at the taste of herself, but her tongue flicks tentatively into his mouth as though unsure.
He thinks about kissing her until she falls asleep and then jerking himself off and he knows it wouldn’t take him long; he’s already leaking in his underwear, the head of his cock sticking wetly to the fabric, rubbing tantalisingly each time he moves. However, with one hand, Elena gently pushes Nate away, letting him sit back on his heels, and for a second he worries he’s overstepped an invisible line, but instead, she pulls her shorts back up and fastens them before rolling onto her knees and shifting closer to him. Her legs are hot against his knees, even through his pants, and it’s with her teeth nipping at his bottom lip that she reaches down to unbutton and tug the offending material down. She’s careful as she tugs his cock from his underwear, pushing the waistband down to rest snugly behind his balls, but he still hisses into her mouth at the feeling.
Elena glances down quickly, looking back up at him with a cocked eyebrow and he’ll admit he’s a little smug about that reaction.
She turns away briefly to spit into her palm - as though it’s the worst thing Nate will see her do - and wraps it firmly around his erection, sliding it wetly up until she cups the head and twists her hand gently. He can’t help but buck up against her, his cock slipping momentarily from her grasp and nudging against her bare stomach, and now it’s his turn to spout nonsense, though mostly half-formed swearwords. He wraps an arm around her waist, shifting them closer as their lips meet once more, and Elena’s hand tugs him confidently, as though there’s no doubt in her mind about what she’s doing to him. He rolls his hips softly, meeting her strokes, and hopes she doesn’t judge his stamina too much because he can feel his orgasm building and all it takes is a rough twist of her palm and a whispered “C’mon, Nate,” before he’s coming over her knuckles and the hem of his shirt.
She tugs him through the pleasure, mouth open against his own, moving with determination, not even paying attention to the rough rasp of Nate’s stubble that he can hear against her face. He sucks on her tongue as his hips slowly come to a halt, his cock too sensitised to feel good, and she lets him go as he reaches blindly for her wrist. After one or two more deep kisses, Elena pulls back, meeting Nate’s eyes. He goes to open his mouth, but forgets what he’s about to say when she brings her hand up to her lips and begins licking it clean.
“Holy shit.”
She smirks around her fingers, but doesn’t stop until every drop of come is gone - and every cell in Nate’s brain has suddenly vanished. She drops her clean hand to Nate’s thigh, rubbing gently as she leans in and kisses him and - oh - he realises why she was hesitant earlier because tasting himself on her tongue is completely strange, but he doesn’t stop until she finally breaks it herself.
He fumbles with his button-fly as he pulls his clothes back into place, but she doesn’t mock him, just shifts away to fall back against the nearest wall and runs a hand through her mussed hair; she re-ties it quickly, already finished by the time Nate falls to rest beside her. There’s a heavy silence between them and Nate doesn’t know if it’s good or bad; he’s hoping she’s just speechless, though it turns out she isn’t.
“Do you think that was just adrenaline?” she asks, picking at something under her nail and he really hope it isn’t come because that’s just awkward.
“Do you?” he retorts and he can tell she isn’t happy with the way she shoots him a pointed look. “I don’t think so,” he eventually admits, shifting just barely enough for their shoulders to brush. “It might have helped, but I think it was going to happen anyway. No one can resist my charm, not even you, Miss Fisher.”
She laughs and the sound is like music to his ears; if she’s happy, he’s happy.
“It probably was the wrong time and place, though,” she admits, tilting her head back to look at him. “I’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”
“And the day after and the day after that.”
“What makes you sure this will happen again?”
“Because Atoq’s men aren’t going anywhere, so that adrenaline will be back to help.”
“Maybe I’ll just deal with it by myself.”
“Maybe I’ll just watch.”
Their faces are mere inches apart and it’s Elena who leans up and presses their mouths together, her kiss soft and easy. When she finally pulls away, her head drops to Nate’s shoulder and she curls further against him. It’s quiet until the silence gets the better of Nate.
“Maybe we can use your camera,” he murmurs, mouth resting against Elena’s head, but there’s no response, not even a laugh. He leans back, curving his neck to look at her face and finds it relaxed, her eyes shut and lips gently parted as she breathes quietly. He kisses her head one last time before he makes himself more comfortable and shuts his own eyes, falling easily asleep in no time.
*
Nate can’t figure out if Elena losing her camera is the best or worst thing to happen to him so far. The best because he now doesn’t have to put up with her filming him every five minutes, but the worst because he doesn’t have to put up with her filming him every five minutes. He won’t admit it to her just yet, but he’s sure he’ll miss her narration and the way she spots little details with more enthusiasm than he thinks they truly deserve.
His heart’s in his throat the moment she starts slipping from his grip and he’s glad she has more sense - though he never truly doubted it - not to argue, to just let the camera fall to the rocks below. When they reach the safety of solid ground again, he thinks about pulling her into his arms and kissing her softly, but when he looks at her, see’s how shaken she is, he realises that’s not what she needs.
“I guess you’re just going to have to look at me without the viewfinder,” he jokes and she pauses before pulling a face.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He nudges her gently with his shoulder and she rolls with it, letting out a snort of laughter. “If - I mean - when we find Sir Francis Drake’s fortune, I’ll spend it on a new one. One with a setting I can use to blur you out.”
He laughs, but stops walking, waiting for her to turn around before he speaks.
“You’re going to pawn off gold from El Dorado to get a new camera?”
She pauses and purses her lips in thought.
“No, I guess you’re right. I’ll buy two cameras, that way you can return the favour.”
“Trust me,” he says, shooting her a sly grin, “you won’t want to look at footage I shoot.”