The Whip Lash Job, Leverage, Part 4, NC-17
Fandom: Leverage
Title: The Whip Lash Job (Part 4)
Charcater: Parker, Eliot
Rating: NC-17 (for theme if nothing else)
Word Count: 586
Summary: While Eliot is off working a solo job, Nate & the crew bite off a bit more than they can chew.
A/Ns & Warnings: So that second card for angst_bingo Yeah...badfalcon picked the Leverage fandom for five prompts from that card. This is the fourth of those five prompts. Written for my second card for angst_bingo.
She doesn't move, not that she can't…she's been released from the restraints, but because she knows any movement will hurt. She's felt pain before, dislocated shoulders and elbows from squeezing into vents too small, bumps and bruises from hard falls and faulty equipment, but this…this is something different.
She breathes through the pain, closes her eyes against the tears. She's already cried enough. Crying wasn't going to get her out of this.
Nothing is going to get her out of this. She is starting to realize that.
She wasn’t even sure what she did wrong to warrant the beating that she’d received. She hissed as she tried to sit up, the welts on her back stretching, breaking open again, blood warming her cold skin .
The room was small, barely 4 feet by six feet and there was nothing in it. Nothing but her, the door, with no knob or handle on the inside, and the single light bulb well out of her reach.
The floor was cold, making her naked skin goosebump and she shivered as if the thought alone was enough to make it colder.
The man who had lashed her back and legs and ass had crowed about how pretty she was, how beautifully she bruised, how lovely her skin tore under his whip. She had held her head up under it, hadn’t made a sound…not until his hands petted over her, touched her in places she didn’t let many near.
She’d growled then, snapping her head back to break his nose. The reward had been another bout of the beating, until she couldn’t help but scream and eventually she’d passed out, waking up here in this room.
There was a sound outside and she dropped to a crouch, inching into the corner, eyes on the door. The door eased open slowly and she crouched lower, ready to defend herself.
“Parker.” The name was hissed, quiet and urgent and she blinked. Eyes peered in at her, then looked away. “Here.” Hands tossed her a shirt, long enough to cover her to her knees. She caught it, but stared, until suddenly she recognized the voice.
“Eliot?”
“Put it on.” Eliot sounded strange, but she did what he said, pulling the shirt on and taking his hand when he held it out to her.
She understood why he sounded strange as he pulled her into the corridor. He was beat up, bloody and the marks around his throat looked like something or someone had choked him.
He held her hand tightly and used motions with his other hand to tell her to keep her head down as he led them through a vaguely lit maze of corridors and walkways. The night air was cold as they emerged up on deck, colder than her little cell. Eliot whirled around, grabbing her and shoving her into a corner as shots rang out.
She whimpered and pulled away from him violently, the pain too much. The blood was making the shirt stick to her skin and her head was spinning.
“Shit. Stay with me Parker.” Eliot snapped, grabbing her face. “I know it hurts. I know. But I need you to stay with me. I can’t carry you.”
She frowned at him because Eliot could carry her easily. Unless he was more hurt than she thought. “I’m good.” Parker managed to say and he nodded.
“Okay, we’re going over the edge.” He pointed. “We’re going to need to move fast. They’re not going to let us go easy.”
Title: The Whip Lash Job (Part 4)
Charcater: Parker, Eliot
Rating: NC-17 (for theme if nothing else)
Word Count: 586
Summary: While Eliot is off working a solo job, Nate & the crew bite off a bit more than they can chew.
A/Ns & Warnings: So that second card for angst_bingo Yeah...badfalcon picked the Leverage fandom for five prompts from that card. This is the fourth of those five prompts. Written for my second card for angst_bingo.
She doesn't move, not that she can't…she's been released from the restraints, but because she knows any movement will hurt. She's felt pain before, dislocated shoulders and elbows from squeezing into vents too small, bumps and bruises from hard falls and faulty equipment, but this…this is something different.
She breathes through the pain, closes her eyes against the tears. She's already cried enough. Crying wasn't going to get her out of this.
Nothing is going to get her out of this. She is starting to realize that.
She wasn’t even sure what she did wrong to warrant the beating that she’d received. She hissed as she tried to sit up, the welts on her back stretching, breaking open again, blood warming her cold skin .
The room was small, barely 4 feet by six feet and there was nothing in it. Nothing but her, the door, with no knob or handle on the inside, and the single light bulb well out of her reach.
The floor was cold, making her naked skin goosebump and she shivered as if the thought alone was enough to make it colder.
The man who had lashed her back and legs and ass had crowed about how pretty she was, how beautifully she bruised, how lovely her skin tore under his whip. She had held her head up under it, hadn’t made a sound…not until his hands petted over her, touched her in places she didn’t let many near.
She’d growled then, snapping her head back to break his nose. The reward had been another bout of the beating, until she couldn’t help but scream and eventually she’d passed out, waking up here in this room.
There was a sound outside and she dropped to a crouch, inching into the corner, eyes on the door. The door eased open slowly and she crouched lower, ready to defend herself.
“Parker.” The name was hissed, quiet and urgent and she blinked. Eyes peered in at her, then looked away. “Here.” Hands tossed her a shirt, long enough to cover her to her knees. She caught it, but stared, until suddenly she recognized the voice.
“Eliot?”
“Put it on.” Eliot sounded strange, but she did what he said, pulling the shirt on and taking his hand when he held it out to her.
She understood why he sounded strange as he pulled her into the corridor. He was beat up, bloody and the marks around his throat looked like something or someone had choked him.
He held her hand tightly and used motions with his other hand to tell her to keep her head down as he led them through a vaguely lit maze of corridors and walkways. The night air was cold as they emerged up on deck, colder than her little cell. Eliot whirled around, grabbing her and shoving her into a corner as shots rang out.
She whimpered and pulled away from him violently, the pain too much. The blood was making the shirt stick to her skin and her head was spinning.
“Shit. Stay with me Parker.” Eliot snapped, grabbing her face. “I know it hurts. I know. But I need you to stay with me. I can’t carry you.”
She frowned at him because Eliot could carry her easily. Unless he was more hurt than she thought. “I’m good.” Parker managed to say and he nodded.
“Okay, we’re going over the edge.” He pointed. “We’re going to need to move fast. They’re not going to let us go easy.”