Fic: Leverage: Four Times Parker And Hardison Played With Eliot's Hair In Public (1/1)
Title: Four Times Parker and Hardison Played with Eliot's Hair in Public (And One Time They Didn't)
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison/Parker OT3
Words: 2176
Rating: NC17
Note: For supershineygirl, who bid on me for help_haiti. Her prompt was basically Eliot allowing them to play with his hair in public, and a rating of R or higher. Originally I'd meant it to be an extended sort of PWP but somehow (as usual) emotions got mixed in as well. I hope you like it, darlin'! All from Eliot's POV.
Summary: Eliot absolutely does not like having his hair messed around with. Except for when he does (and he will not be blamed for growling when it happens).
1. Hardison saves his ass... For once.
He's out of position. He's out of position and in the open, and security is taking notice of him as being the only one alone in the lobby in the midst of this lame ass couple's convention. Eliot's got no time to disappear, and they can't afford for him to get burned, not in goddamn Vegas.
"Promise not to hit me," Hardison's voice hisses through the comms. It sounds like he's doing that long legged not-run thing he does when he's trying to hurry without attracting too much attention.
"What?" Eliot does not have time for --
"Promise."
"Yeah, ok. Fine."
And then Hardison slips out of the crowd, dropping some bullshit line about "there you are" and he's taking Eliot's space, pressing in close, arms curling around him. The man's lucky, is what he is. Promise aside, had any of the others (ok, except maybe, maybe Parker, and she wouldn't do it anyway) tried this they'd be flat on their asses. As it is Eliot just relaxes and reminds himself that he actually enjoys this in their off time.
He isn't so much surprised that Alec kisses him, just that he tangles a hand in Eliot's hair, snug near the scalp and tugs so Eliot will look up at him. As their lips meet, Alec all but holds him there, his thumb rubbing gently against Eliot's scalp. Eliot can't help the sound he makes, and it's too much to hope Alec would miss it.
"Are you growling at me, or purring?" Hardison smirks as Nate chokes on his "coffee".
Eliot spares a glance around, making sure security will leave them alone. "I'll get you for this later," he growls, stalking toward where he's supposed to be.
"Promises, promises..."
2. Parker is bored, that's all there is to it.
Times like this he could kiss Nate, he really could. Tara, on the other hand... Well, she's staring at him. Wide eyed. With her eyebrows crawling up to her hairline like she can't believe it.
"I..." She pauses when he growls, but he's starting to figure out she's amused by his growling. Still even her amusement can't take over her shock. "I thought you were with, y'know, Mr. Geek Squad." Eliot just glares at her. "I didn't even think... y'know. That she'd... That you'd..." She gestures vaguely, in a way that's not very vague at all.
Eliot growls again, but it's quieted by the feel of Parker's fingers part his hair, smoothing and tugging gently as she braids it. He'd never have pegged her for something girly like playing with hair, but he supposes that doing this when she's bored is better than other things she's done. Or talked about doing. Which is absolutely why Nate isn't complaining out loud about the team impinging on his personal space in the bar right now. (In fact, Nate is very studiously ignoring the both of them and the conversation at hand.) And at least she's doing the small braids, turquoise and silver beads still in her pocket.
He can feel the way Parker pulls a face (because of course she's resting her head on his shoulder, arms draped around him to braid the hair on the other side without really looking). "Is she trying to say that she doesn't think you'd have sex with me?"
Nate suddenly decides there's not enough Irish in his coffee and vacates his seat. Unfortunately, Hardison lands in it not a heartbeat later. "You should see the two of them together," he says, and damn if he doesn't sound proud. Eliot can feel himself blushing, and suddenly Parker's expression feels smug. "It's a sight to behold, her back, his thighs... The sounds alone..."
Oh yeah. They're both paying for this later.
3. Hardison forgets that an ER waiting room still counts as public.
"C'mon man, focus," Hardison says, and Eliot can't seem to remember why it is he sounds so worried.
Not that it takes much for him to force his brain into cooperating with him. Hardison keeps holding fingers in front of his face, which means he must have hit his head. And hard. As if on cue, he feels it, making the world tilt below them as pain throbs and lances through the places he'd expect for a fight that didn't go so well.
But Alec's in front of him, so it couldn't have gone that badly.
"Hey, you with me?"
His fingers are carding through Eliot's hair gently, almost like he's afraid that Eliot's fragile but he can't not touch, can't not reassure himself. Or maybe both of them. Eliot forces himself steady, forces himself to focus, at least long enough to let a doctor poke at him. Hardison smiles as their eyes meet, hands cupping his face and looking like he might kiss him.
"Don't gotta coddle me," Eliot says, just the edge of a warning growl in his tone. Or trying, anyway, he sounds weak even to himself.
Hardison laughs, like somehow that reassured him. Like somehow that means Eliot's a-okay. Hell, maybe it does. "Alright, man, alright. I can take pity on a wounded man."
Eliot decides that maybe this time he'll let it slide.
4. Parker... 'S somethin' wrong with her.
Parker worries. He knows she worries because she's bad at hiding it, though it's sweet that she tries. Not that her worry is unwarranted, of course. Like now. This time is close, closer than he'd like, especially hot on the heels of his little hospital visit. He's faster than he ought to be and just a hair's breadth slower than he needs to be.
Literally.
The knife blade presses hard and fast into the wall, taking some of his hair with it. Course, it also gets stuck, and the thug wastes precious moments trying to pull it out of the wood. Eliot uses that time to show him why it is exactly he should have chosen another profession.
"Talk to me," Nate says through the comm.
"We're good," Eliot growls, resisting the urge to cough and holding his ribs. He heads back out to the van and promises himself a weekend off as soon as they're done with this damn job. "Clearing out now."
Parker's giving him that look as he walks up, and then she frowns. Really frowns, like she's mad, and Eliot's not sure he's ever seen her actually angry. Upset, yes. Hurt, desperate even, yes. But angry? Her hand goes to his hair, to where the braid she made is.
Correction. To where the braid was.
"We'll need just a minute," Hardison says almost before Parker storms back into the building.
"What's the hold up?" Nate demands.
"Forgot something," Parker says, and Eliot almost, almost laughs at the way it's close to a growl. Of course, that's when she forgets that everyone can hear her on the comms and she starts kicking the barely conscious goon, yelling at him about defacing other people's art.
"She knows you're not art," Hardison says as they get in the van, back doors ready for her when she comes out.
"I know that," Eliot growls, making a face at him. Hardison of all people should get that Eliot understands Parker more than he actually lets on.
He isn't really surprised that she's got the braid clutched in one hand when she comes back out. Or that she insists on fixing a new one. It's the way her eyes are wide, like he's not really okay unless the braid is there. Like he's not really there til her fingers are carding through and smoothing his hair.
And One Time They Didn't... Because it was very much in private.
Parker runs her fingers through his hair again, and it'd be annoying if it didn't feel so good. Somehow she keeps finding the short strands and playing with them. And pouting. He hates it when she pouts like that, because it's never anything he can actually fix.
"It's just so much shorter than the rest!" she declares, and not for the first time.
Eliot tries not to let her see him twitch, no easy feat when they're sitting together on the couch. "Y'ain't cutting the rest of it to match," he says. "It's hair. It'll grow out."
Parker wrinkles her nose. "You're not allowed to cut it. It would look wrong. You'd look like a kid, and it'd be weird," she says, moving to straddle him, "if I did this..." Her hips roll against his, her hands carding through the length of his hair as she almost, but doesn't quite, kiss him. "I like all your bits just where they are."
"Not just where they are," Hardison adds as he strolls in. Eliot would make a sarcastic comment but Parker chooses that moment to roll her hips again as agreement. Hardison smirks, that cocky, self assured and, to Eliot's surprise, happy expression he only ever makes when it's just the three of them. When they're home.
He'd pause to consider the thought (the truth of it) but Eliot wasn't ever one for ruminating, not on things like this. It makes them complicated, and this, this is so easy. Sliding his hands up Parker's thighs to cup her ass, his hips grinding up to meet her, and finally she kisses him, more a meeting of lips and sharing of breath than anything else. Her fingers tighten in his hair to hold him in place while she takes her time, tasting, exploring. Claiming, he realizes, in a way that only makes sense to her.
Hardison seems to have had enough with watching because Eliot feels him press against Parker's back, feels his hands between them as he pulls away Parker's shirt. He starts on the buttons of Eliot's shirt, pausing only when Parker arches between them, undulating against the both of them and purring. She's tricky when she wants to be, almost slippery unless she wants to be held, and Eliot marvels at the way she keeps moving, keeps touching, the way she holds the three of them together even as she manages to get her hands inside of first his shirt, and then his pants, and then his clothes are gone.
Alec wastes no time in following suit, and Eliot takes the opportunity to put Parker on her back, to lay her out on the coffee table and strip her pants away. She giggles, a bubbly noise he feels through her chest more than hears. Until he slides her back a little farther, at least, ducking his head down to flick a tongue over one nipple and rubbing a thumb along her clit. The sound trips over itself, becoming a moan, and Parker lifts her hips so that she can ride his fingers. She lets her head fall back, and Eliot contemplates reminding her that his hair isn't a set of reins to pull and direct him.
Of course, that's when Alec gets his hands on him. "Fuck," he breathes, almost in Eliot's ear, kissing along what he can reach of both Eliot and Parker. One hand slides smooth and easy down Eliot's back, along the curve of his ass and encouraging him to spread his legs. Parker lifts her head again, watching Eliot's face, biting her lip and whimpering the moment she can tell that Hardison's fingers have slipped inside of him, opening him.
Alec pulls his hand away and Eliot growls at the loss, puts his hands on Parker's hips and pulls her down, entering her in one smooth motion. She makes that purr-giggle again, all too pleased, and runs her fingers through his hair again, holding it back from his face, fingers rubbing against his scalp like he's some kind of cat. It occurs to him, distantly, that she likes watching his face, likes seeing what they do to him through his expression.
And then Hardison is pressing inside of him, slow and easy. Eliot hears himself making that same noise, the one he wants to be a growl and comes out as something else. Parker moans, claiming his mouth again as Hardison sets the pace for all three of them, and it's all Eliot can do to hold himself up between them. He won't last long, none of them will, not for this round anyway. Not with the way Alec thrusts into him, with the way Parker's fingers tighten in his hair. With the way she's gasping against his mouth and Alec's hands are digging into his hips.
Parker comes first and it ripples through the three of them. She arcs her back, tightening around Eliot, clamping her thighs around him as she shudders, pulling Eliot with her. His vision sparks at the edges and he can't help crying out, rocking between them, only vaguely aware of Alec's hips stuttering, of Alec filling him. It's only instinct and experience that keeps them from collapsing in a heap of limbs right then and there, though they only make it as far as the couch before they do.
They should clean up. Hell, Eliot doesn't even usually like to lay around naked -- it's too open and vulnerable. Except he can't seem to bring himself to mind just now, not even about the way Hardison's the one stroking his hair now. Eliot sighs, trying to sound exasperated instead of deeply satisfied.
They'll pay for it. Y'know. Eventually.
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison/Parker OT3
Words: 2176
Rating: NC17
Note: For supershineygirl, who bid on me for help_haiti. Her prompt was basically Eliot allowing them to play with his hair in public, and a rating of R or higher. Originally I'd meant it to be an extended sort of PWP but somehow (as usual) emotions got mixed in as well. I hope you like it, darlin'! All from Eliot's POV.
Summary: Eliot absolutely does not like having his hair messed around with. Except for when he does (and he will not be blamed for growling when it happens).
1. Hardison saves his ass... For once.
He's out of position. He's out of position and in the open, and security is taking notice of him as being the only one alone in the lobby in the midst of this lame ass couple's convention. Eliot's got no time to disappear, and they can't afford for him to get burned, not in goddamn Vegas.
"Promise not to hit me," Hardison's voice hisses through the comms. It sounds like he's doing that long legged not-run thing he does when he's trying to hurry without attracting too much attention.
"What?" Eliot does not have time for --
"Promise."
"Yeah, ok. Fine."
And then Hardison slips out of the crowd, dropping some bullshit line about "there you are" and he's taking Eliot's space, pressing in close, arms curling around him. The man's lucky, is what he is. Promise aside, had any of the others (ok, except maybe, maybe Parker, and she wouldn't do it anyway) tried this they'd be flat on their asses. As it is Eliot just relaxes and reminds himself that he actually enjoys this in their off time.
He isn't so much surprised that Alec kisses him, just that he tangles a hand in Eliot's hair, snug near the scalp and tugs so Eliot will look up at him. As their lips meet, Alec all but holds him there, his thumb rubbing gently against Eliot's scalp. Eliot can't help the sound he makes, and it's too much to hope Alec would miss it.
"Are you growling at me, or purring?" Hardison smirks as Nate chokes on his "coffee".
Eliot spares a glance around, making sure security will leave them alone. "I'll get you for this later," he growls, stalking toward where he's supposed to be.
"Promises, promises..."
2. Parker is bored, that's all there is to it.
Times like this he could kiss Nate, he really could. Tara, on the other hand... Well, she's staring at him. Wide eyed. With her eyebrows crawling up to her hairline like she can't believe it.
"I..." She pauses when he growls, but he's starting to figure out she's amused by his growling. Still even her amusement can't take over her shock. "I thought you were with, y'know, Mr. Geek Squad." Eliot just glares at her. "I didn't even think... y'know. That she'd... That you'd..." She gestures vaguely, in a way that's not very vague at all.
Eliot growls again, but it's quieted by the feel of Parker's fingers part his hair, smoothing and tugging gently as she braids it. He'd never have pegged her for something girly like playing with hair, but he supposes that doing this when she's bored is better than other things she's done. Or talked about doing. Which is absolutely why Nate isn't complaining out loud about the team impinging on his personal space in the bar right now. (In fact, Nate is very studiously ignoring the both of them and the conversation at hand.) And at least she's doing the small braids, turquoise and silver beads still in her pocket.
He can feel the way Parker pulls a face (because of course she's resting her head on his shoulder, arms draped around him to braid the hair on the other side without really looking). "Is she trying to say that she doesn't think you'd have sex with me?"
Nate suddenly decides there's not enough Irish in his coffee and vacates his seat. Unfortunately, Hardison lands in it not a heartbeat later. "You should see the two of them together," he says, and damn if he doesn't sound proud. Eliot can feel himself blushing, and suddenly Parker's expression feels smug. "It's a sight to behold, her back, his thighs... The sounds alone..."
Oh yeah. They're both paying for this later.
3. Hardison forgets that an ER waiting room still counts as public.
"C'mon man, focus," Hardison says, and Eliot can't seem to remember why it is he sounds so worried.
Not that it takes much for him to force his brain into cooperating with him. Hardison keeps holding fingers in front of his face, which means he must have hit his head. And hard. As if on cue, he feels it, making the world tilt below them as pain throbs and lances through the places he'd expect for a fight that didn't go so well.
But Alec's in front of him, so it couldn't have gone that badly.
"Hey, you with me?"
His fingers are carding through Eliot's hair gently, almost like he's afraid that Eliot's fragile but he can't not touch, can't not reassure himself. Or maybe both of them. Eliot forces himself steady, forces himself to focus, at least long enough to let a doctor poke at him. Hardison smiles as their eyes meet, hands cupping his face and looking like he might kiss him.
"Don't gotta coddle me," Eliot says, just the edge of a warning growl in his tone. Or trying, anyway, he sounds weak even to himself.
Hardison laughs, like somehow that reassured him. Like somehow that means Eliot's a-okay. Hell, maybe it does. "Alright, man, alright. I can take pity on a wounded man."
Eliot decides that maybe this time he'll let it slide.
4. Parker... 'S somethin' wrong with her.
Parker worries. He knows she worries because she's bad at hiding it, though it's sweet that she tries. Not that her worry is unwarranted, of course. Like now. This time is close, closer than he'd like, especially hot on the heels of his little hospital visit. He's faster than he ought to be and just a hair's breadth slower than he needs to be.
Literally.
The knife blade presses hard and fast into the wall, taking some of his hair with it. Course, it also gets stuck, and the thug wastes precious moments trying to pull it out of the wood. Eliot uses that time to show him why it is exactly he should have chosen another profession.
"Talk to me," Nate says through the comm.
"We're good," Eliot growls, resisting the urge to cough and holding his ribs. He heads back out to the van and promises himself a weekend off as soon as they're done with this damn job. "Clearing out now."
Parker's giving him that look as he walks up, and then she frowns. Really frowns, like she's mad, and Eliot's not sure he's ever seen her actually angry. Upset, yes. Hurt, desperate even, yes. But angry? Her hand goes to his hair, to where the braid she made is.
Correction. To where the braid was.
"We'll need just a minute," Hardison says almost before Parker storms back into the building.
"What's the hold up?" Nate demands.
"Forgot something," Parker says, and Eliot almost, almost laughs at the way it's close to a growl. Of course, that's when she forgets that everyone can hear her on the comms and she starts kicking the barely conscious goon, yelling at him about defacing other people's art.
"She knows you're not art," Hardison says as they get in the van, back doors ready for her when she comes out.
"I know that," Eliot growls, making a face at him. Hardison of all people should get that Eliot understands Parker more than he actually lets on.
He isn't really surprised that she's got the braid clutched in one hand when she comes back out. Or that she insists on fixing a new one. It's the way her eyes are wide, like he's not really okay unless the braid is there. Like he's not really there til her fingers are carding through and smoothing his hair.
And One Time They Didn't... Because it was very much in private.
Parker runs her fingers through his hair again, and it'd be annoying if it didn't feel so good. Somehow she keeps finding the short strands and playing with them. And pouting. He hates it when she pouts like that, because it's never anything he can actually fix.
"It's just so much shorter than the rest!" she declares, and not for the first time.
Eliot tries not to let her see him twitch, no easy feat when they're sitting together on the couch. "Y'ain't cutting the rest of it to match," he says. "It's hair. It'll grow out."
Parker wrinkles her nose. "You're not allowed to cut it. It would look wrong. You'd look like a kid, and it'd be weird," she says, moving to straddle him, "if I did this..." Her hips roll against his, her hands carding through the length of his hair as she almost, but doesn't quite, kiss him. "I like all your bits just where they are."
"Not just where they are," Hardison adds as he strolls in. Eliot would make a sarcastic comment but Parker chooses that moment to roll her hips again as agreement. Hardison smirks, that cocky, self assured and, to Eliot's surprise, happy expression he only ever makes when it's just the three of them. When they're home.
He'd pause to consider the thought (the truth of it) but Eliot wasn't ever one for ruminating, not on things like this. It makes them complicated, and this, this is so easy. Sliding his hands up Parker's thighs to cup her ass, his hips grinding up to meet her, and finally she kisses him, more a meeting of lips and sharing of breath than anything else. Her fingers tighten in his hair to hold him in place while she takes her time, tasting, exploring. Claiming, he realizes, in a way that only makes sense to her.
Hardison seems to have had enough with watching because Eliot feels him press against Parker's back, feels his hands between them as he pulls away Parker's shirt. He starts on the buttons of Eliot's shirt, pausing only when Parker arches between them, undulating against the both of them and purring. She's tricky when she wants to be, almost slippery unless she wants to be held, and Eliot marvels at the way she keeps moving, keeps touching, the way she holds the three of them together even as she manages to get her hands inside of first his shirt, and then his pants, and then his clothes are gone.
Alec wastes no time in following suit, and Eliot takes the opportunity to put Parker on her back, to lay her out on the coffee table and strip her pants away. She giggles, a bubbly noise he feels through her chest more than hears. Until he slides her back a little farther, at least, ducking his head down to flick a tongue over one nipple and rubbing a thumb along her clit. The sound trips over itself, becoming a moan, and Parker lifts her hips so that she can ride his fingers. She lets her head fall back, and Eliot contemplates reminding her that his hair isn't a set of reins to pull and direct him.
Of course, that's when Alec gets his hands on him. "Fuck," he breathes, almost in Eliot's ear, kissing along what he can reach of both Eliot and Parker. One hand slides smooth and easy down Eliot's back, along the curve of his ass and encouraging him to spread his legs. Parker lifts her head again, watching Eliot's face, biting her lip and whimpering the moment she can tell that Hardison's fingers have slipped inside of him, opening him.
Alec pulls his hand away and Eliot growls at the loss, puts his hands on Parker's hips and pulls her down, entering her in one smooth motion. She makes that purr-giggle again, all too pleased, and runs her fingers through his hair again, holding it back from his face, fingers rubbing against his scalp like he's some kind of cat. It occurs to him, distantly, that she likes watching his face, likes seeing what they do to him through his expression.
And then Hardison is pressing inside of him, slow and easy. Eliot hears himself making that same noise, the one he wants to be a growl and comes out as something else. Parker moans, claiming his mouth again as Hardison sets the pace for all three of them, and it's all Eliot can do to hold himself up between them. He won't last long, none of them will, not for this round anyway. Not with the way Alec thrusts into him, with the way Parker's fingers tighten in his hair. With the way she's gasping against his mouth and Alec's hands are digging into his hips.
Parker comes first and it ripples through the three of them. She arcs her back, tightening around Eliot, clamping her thighs around him as she shudders, pulling Eliot with her. His vision sparks at the edges and he can't help crying out, rocking between them, only vaguely aware of Alec's hips stuttering, of Alec filling him. It's only instinct and experience that keeps them from collapsing in a heap of limbs right then and there, though they only make it as far as the couch before they do.
They should clean up. Hell, Eliot doesn't even usually like to lay around naked -- it's too open and vulnerable. Except he can't seem to bring himself to mind just now, not even about the way Hardison's the one stroking his hair now. Eliot sighs, trying to sound exasperated instead of deeply satisfied.
They'll pay for it. Y'know. Eventually.