Fic: Bruises
Jul. 26th, 2011 12:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunspotTitle: Bruises
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Hardison/Eliot
Rating: R
Word Count: 450
Warnings: Bondage, D/s implications, implied rough sex (all consensual)
Summary: Introspection in the moments leading up to the bruises.
Author's Notes: Written for Porn Battle 11 and somehow not posted until now.
Eliot would never admit it, not even under the worst torture, but this was his favourite place to be. Hardison's hands were on his back, strong and warm and clever enough Eliot to pretend he didn't understand what exactly was happening until after it had already happened.
The knots were nowhere near tight enough or complicated enough that Eliot couldn't get out of them, but he knew they were supposed to be symbolic. Just something so Eliot could put up a token struggle and feel like he'd really lost control more than had just given it up.
The control was very important. If there was someone in the world who could take control from Eliot, he'd yet to meet them. He could lose it, or he choose to give it up, but he had always been resistant to either of those options. They went against everything that made Eliot Eliot. Hardison understood that. How, Eliot never did figure out or bother to ask. The mystery was comforting.
Hardison smoothed his hands up Eliot's back and then down his sides, flipping him over with no trouble. It was uncomfortable, with his hands bound behind him, but Eliot was not afraid of 'uncomfortable'.
Eliot was very aware of his own breathing -- more here than when he meditated or went for a seven mile run. Hardison was so quiet in these moments that Eliot felt loud and awkward just for lying there and breathing. Eliot thought that Hardison affected such a change when he had Eliot tied up or tied down. He was almost a different person.
When Hardison noticed he was getting distracted, he twisted his fingers in Eliot's hair and tugged, bringing Eliot right back to the current moment. He kissed Eliot's mouth, open and wet, with one hand still holding Eliot's hair tight. Then he let go, sat back, and watched.
Eliot was never one for introspection, either, but with very little else to do until Hardison decided what course of action he wanted to take, Eliot was sort of forced to deal with the reality that meeting, and subsequently falling in bed with, Alec Hardison had made him a different person in a host of colourful ways.
Hardison touched Eliot's skin again, the faintest brush of fingertips, and so delicate it was almost funny because Eliot could only imagine how many bruises he'd have in the morning. Each mark was an opportunity, a little moment where he didn't have to be the strong one, where he didn't have to be in complete control.
He didn't know exactly what Hardison had planned, but however many bruises he had the next morning, he'd count each of them and be thankful for every single one.
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Hardison/Eliot
Rating: R
Word Count: 450
Warnings: Bondage, D/s implications, implied rough sex (all consensual)
Summary: Introspection in the moments leading up to the bruises.
Author's Notes: Written for Porn Battle 11 and somehow not posted until now.
Eliot would never admit it, not even under the worst torture, but this was his favourite place to be. Hardison's hands were on his back, strong and warm and clever enough Eliot to pretend he didn't understand what exactly was happening until after it had already happened.
The knots were nowhere near tight enough or complicated enough that Eliot couldn't get out of them, but he knew they were supposed to be symbolic. Just something so Eliot could put up a token struggle and feel like he'd really lost control more than had just given it up.
The control was very important. If there was someone in the world who could take control from Eliot, he'd yet to meet them. He could lose it, or he choose to give it up, but he had always been resistant to either of those options. They went against everything that made Eliot Eliot. Hardison understood that. How, Eliot never did figure out or bother to ask. The mystery was comforting.
Hardison smoothed his hands up Eliot's back and then down his sides, flipping him over with no trouble. It was uncomfortable, with his hands bound behind him, but Eliot was not afraid of 'uncomfortable'.
Eliot was very aware of his own breathing -- more here than when he meditated or went for a seven mile run. Hardison was so quiet in these moments that Eliot felt loud and awkward just for lying there and breathing. Eliot thought that Hardison affected such a change when he had Eliot tied up or tied down. He was almost a different person.
When Hardison noticed he was getting distracted, he twisted his fingers in Eliot's hair and tugged, bringing Eliot right back to the current moment. He kissed Eliot's mouth, open and wet, with one hand still holding Eliot's hair tight. Then he let go, sat back, and watched.
Eliot was never one for introspection, either, but with very little else to do until Hardison decided what course of action he wanted to take, Eliot was sort of forced to deal with the reality that meeting, and subsequently falling in bed with, Alec Hardison had made him a different person in a host of colourful ways.
Hardison touched Eliot's skin again, the faintest brush of fingertips, and so delicate it was almost funny because Eliot could only imagine how many bruises he'd have in the morning. Each mark was an opportunity, a little moment where he didn't have to be the strong one, where he didn't have to be in complete control.
He didn't know exactly what Hardison had planned, but however many bruises he had the next morning, he'd count each of them and be thankful for every single one.
