Fic: Hold Tight and Pretend It's The Plan
Title: Hold Tight and Pretend It's The Plan
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Hardison/Eliot
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 4500
Warnings: rough sex, sex pollen (so kind of dub-con, depending on how you want to read it)
Summary: Eliot goes temporarily missing on a job in a greenhouse and Hardison goes to find him.
Author's Notes: For my darling![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scorpiod1. <3 thanks to ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
xsnarkasaurus and bessyboo for the speedy and excellent beta.
"Check the security feed, Hardison. Find out where Eliot was before he dropped off the comm, Hardison. How did you manage to lose a grown man, Hardison," Hardison muttered under his breath while he scrolled through the ninety-one security cameras he was currently linked into at Scorpiod Scientific Unlimited. Eliot wasn't readily apparent on any of them, so he set up a triangulation on the last time Eliot's ear bud had sent or received a signal so he could try narrowing it down.
"I can hear you. Have you found him?" Nate said, unimpressed with Hardison's imitation of him.
"No," he snapped. "I'm trying to deal with a lot here."
"I told you I should have gone," Parker said, sounding tinny because she was in the same air vent she'd been in for the last three hours.
"We couldn't risk it with the guys down there on the floor. They're not regular security guards, Parker, remember; they're all ex-Navy, trained killers. And hired to kill anyone on sight," Nate said, voice wearing very thin.
"Well, now we lost Eliot, so we're screwed," Parker shot back.
The last thing Eliot had said was 'okay, I guess I'll go --', but it had cut out and the signal went dead before he said where he was going. He had been about to hit the last exit in the south wing of the main floor, the mysterious doorway that should have something beyond it, but by all investigations thus far, did not.
Hardison gritted his teeth together in frustration to stop himself from yelling. "We didn't lose him, I just can't find him."
"Explain how that's not the same thing."
"Hush, Parker, let me concentrate."
Scorpiod Scientific Unlimited was doing some questionable things in genetic engineering, hence the very qualified security detail, but the team was still fairly unsure as to what those questionable things might be.
"If it's genetic engineering, that's like... mutant cows, right?" Parker had asked at the briefing. Everyone had dismissed it right away, shooting her tired looks or rolling their eyes, but without Eliot's calm, vaguely annoyed presence on the comms telling him he was an idiot and to focus or he was going to get his ass kicked into his face, Hardison was imagining killer cows rampaging through the streets of Boston, eating schoolchildren.
It had been one hell of a job, thus far. Three weeks they'd been at it, and everyone was ready for it to be over. Tonight was supposed to be the game changer, the move that put them in control and got them the information they needed to bring down the company and its crooked Chief Science Officer. Of course, the whole bet was off if Eliot disappeared with the only copy of the map they had.
"He was right next to that door, Nate." Hardison reported back, feeling tension in his chest that was probably worry. He ignored it. "But I don't have eyes beyond that point. Someone's got to go find him."
"Absolutely not," Nate said flatly. "Sophie's still working on Ruffman, so we'll see if she can't get anything about the door from him. In the meantime, Eliot will come back." He said it like it was an absolute fact, and he said it in his fact voice, which was often comforting. Hardison didn't feel comforted. He had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't place, and he didn't like it.
"Someone's coming," he said, whipping around when he heard the footsteps. "I'm bailing."
"Do that," Nate said quickly. "Parker, are you still in position?"
"Yes, but I don't know which direction I'm supposed to be facing. Eliot was going to tell me when he got in."
"Okay, get out the way you came and head for the van," Nate told her. "I'm going to hit the director's office again, so Hardison, find a safe place and disarm the door for me."
"It's a green house," Sophie said suddenly, cutting through everything else. "On the other side of the door. A secret green house for so-called 'dangerous' plants."
"How can a plant be dangerous? Like a Venus fly trap? And Nate, the door is open." Hardison clicked a few buttons on his netbook. "Go now if you're going."
"Hardison, how are your allergies?" Nate asked in a low voice.
Hardison glared as his screen for lack of Nate to glare at. "What allergies?"
"Like... Hay fever, pollen allergies, that kind of thing."
"Man, you just said we shouldn't go after Eliot, now you want me to?"
There was a silence long enough to make Hardison antsy. "Nate?"
"Yes, sorry. Yes Hardison, go find him. Now. We need to know which way Parker has to go to get into this vault and he's the only one with the map. Find him ASAP."
Hardison muttered a couple choice curse words under his breath, but he knew that was the best plan. "Okay, fine, but what about the killer Navy guys?"
"I've already got a distraction planned. You just have to get to the door on your own, then the second you drop off the comm, we'll know you're through. Get Eliot and meet at Lucille."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," Hardison said, flipping his netbook shut and sliding it into his bag. "If I get eaten by a Venus fly trap the size of a hippo, we're going to have words."
Hardison worked on an escape plan in case he was met by some of those scary security guards on his way down three floors to the greenhouse door, quickly picking an id card from a passing employee and stuffing his hoodie in a bag so he at least looked slightly less out of place.
"'Kay, at the door. See you all shortly." Hardison took a deep breath, mentally prepared himself for possible plant-based attacks and shoved open the door. He was barely two steps in when the heavy metal swung shut and made a very definite locking sound behind him.
Besides the noise of from the door, Hardison noticed two things right away. It was dark and it was humid. There were two white emergency lights, high up on the ceiling, but very little of the light they cast reached the floor. And he could barely see them through the leaves. He was definitely in a greenhouse.
"Fuck no. Hardison, get out of here," Eliot hissed from somewhere nearby. "Go, now."
"I was supposed to come and rescue you from the big, bad flower pots, jackass. Come on, let's get out of here. Everyone's waiting at the van," Hardison said to the dark. He backed up to open the door, but his hands only met smooth, cool metal. "Okay, well, not this way. Don't greenhouses have to attach to outside? Let's go break some glass."
"Don't!" Eliot snapped as Hardison took a step towards the direction he was presumably in.
"What the hell is your problem?"
"Don't touch any of the plants. Don't even breath near them. Something fucked up is happening. You need to get out of here." Eliot sounded weird, like a little out of breath and maybe a little dazed.
Hardison narrowed his eyes at the shadow beyond a tall, potted tree thing that he thought might be Eliot. His eyes were starting to adjust a little better and he could see Eliot shifting his weight back and forth, like he had a nervous tick. That wasn't something Eliot usually did, not even when he was getting frustrated or bored. "Are you okay, man? Did you touch something?"
"Yeah," Eliot said, his voice tight.
"Shit, are you sick or something? Don't tell me you're going to pass out, because I am not dragging you out to the van." Hardison tried not to imagine the ass kicking he'd receive after that kind of heroism.
"Shut up, I'm not going to pass out," Eliot snapped. Whatever it was, it wasn't affecting his legendary patience.
"Come on, this place is freaking me out. You're freaking me out," Hardison said, a little more insistently.
"There's no way for us to get out," Eliot said. Just a straight-forward sentence. A clear, concise statement. He didn't offer an alternate plan or suggest a course of action. It was simply a fact when Eliot said it like that, and it made Hardison worry.
"So, what should we do?" He'd been standing in the dark long enough that he could see as much as he was going to. Eliot was indeed the shadow Hardison had thought he was, and while he didn't look on the verge on unconsciousness, there was definitely something different with him.
"No idea. Suffer, probably," Eliot said. "Come look at this sign."
Hardison dropped his bag next to the door and went over to where Eliot was standing and pointing. He squinted in the low light. The sign was neatly handwritten on brightly coloured paper, and at the end of the text, there was a smiley face. Hardison felt distinctly non-smiley when he'd finished reading it.
"Pretty long winded sign, huh?" Eliot said, trying to make a joke. It fell supremely flat.
Hardison rubbed his hands over his face in disbelief. "Oh my god. Really? Seriously? Seriously. What the fuck is up with bad science this week? First the potato, now this ridiculousness?"
"I, uh... Don't think it's a joke." Eliot had that shaky quality to his voice again. Hardison turned around to snap at him and caught full sight of the bulge in Eliot's pants.
"Oh. My. God," he said again, turning around again. The heat in his face was embarrassing, but more than that, he felt that same obvious, curling heat working its way down his spine. "This is not happening."
"Shut up, Hardison," Eliot said, only the smallest note of warning in his voice. It sounded like it was being crowded out by the lust. Hardison didn't really think Eliot's voice could get more gravelly, but there he stood, obviously corrected, and with an insistent erection of his own.
"Can you think of an explanation for all this?" Eliot said, as if their current situation was somehow Hardison's fault.
"No. I mean, it's bad science, man. Someone was messing around with some genes or something, and spliced the wrong ones together. This kind of stuff isn't supposed to happen." Hardison knew he was probably imagining it, but he felt like he could feel Eliot staring at him.
"So you've never heard of anything like this before?"
"Not unless Buffy slash Willow counts," Hardison said.
"Oh, so you don't know if... People survive this kind of stuff?"
Hardison let out a short, bitter laugh. "I don't even know what's going on, man."
He took another deep, steadying breath, but it wasn't helping. He wasn't feeling steady; he was starting to get light-headed. His mind was racing, flashing images of bare skin and taut bodies, soft curves and dark hair, and all the other things he was trying not to think about. "I can't believe this is actually happening."
"Well, it is," Eliot said, right behind him. Hardison jumped a little and despite a small part of his mind thinking it was a very bad idea, he turned around to face him.
In the low light, and with Eliot standing so close, it was nearly impossible to make out any distinct features, but Hardison didn't need to see Eliot's face to feel his heart and dick leap when Eliot grabbed him by the hips and pulled them flush together.
"Oh god," Hardison said through a shaky breath, trying not to collapse against him. The friction between them sent shocks straight through him but was nowhere near what he was craving.
"Sorry," Eliot muttered, though he didn't specify if he was sorry for grabbing Hardison or because it still didn't feel like enough. He was working at unbuttoning Hardison's fly with shaky hands and he cursed under his breath when he couldn't get the right grip.
"We're going to do this?" Hardison asked. He knew that the situation was swiftly spinning out of control and that they should stop and try to work out a plan that didn't involve one of them fully bent over the nearest table, but the heat between them and the feel of Eliot still trying to work his hand down the front of Hardison's pants was clouding every bit of judgement, good or otherwise, he thought he had.
"Sign says we'll die," Eliot said, giving up on Hardison's pants temporarily, and apparently on full sentences. He flung his own shirt on the floor and reached for Hardison's tee shirt until Hardison wriggled out of it. Hardison was about to ask if Eliot believed everything he read on signs, still trying to distract them both from what might or might not be happening to them, but the second his shirt was out of the way, Eliot was on him.
Lips and teeth and a very hot mouth against his skin made Hardison shudder and curse again at the sudden rush of feeling, and Eliot moaned loud and uninhibited, clearly agreeing.
It was the skin on skin contact that made the twisting, urgent feeling in the pit of his stomach subside just a little, Hardison realized. Then he realized Eliot had been in this room, breathing in the plant spores for a lot longer than he had. If he already felt half-dazed and rock hard, he could only imagine how much worse off Eliot must be.
"Fuck, fuck, damn," Hardison muttered. He batted Eliot's hands away from his jeans again, not because he didn't want to be out of them, but because Eliot's hands were shaking so badly that it was more of an annoyance than anything. "Here," he said, stripping off his pants and leaning back on the table so he could kick them off.
Eliot leaned into him as he leaned back, putting Hardison drastically off-balance again and forcing him further against the table.
"This is going to get stupid, isn't it?" Hardison asked, already reaching for Eliot's fly.
"Shut up, Hardison."
He managed to pop the top button and Eliot wriggled his way free of his pants without taking his mouth from Hardison's neck.
"I just --" Hardison tried again.
"Shut up, Hardison."
Hardison was about to tell Eliot that he had no intention of shutting up, that this was all moving too fast and that Eliot was clearly not in control of his actions, but instead, Hardison said "nngh." Eliot pulled him away from the table and dragged them both to the floor, covering Hardison's mouth with his own.
The tile floor was cold against his back but it didn't matter because Eliot's mouth on his was taking up his whole attention. There wasn't much grace in kissing at the best of times, but the spores were making it pure chaos. Not that it mattered while they were on the floor, grinding against each other in a tangle of limbs and unable to stop, even for a second, to catch their breath or hiss a curse word or anything else.
Hardison knew, objectively, that the way Eliot's hand scraping against his cock was way too rough, with nothing to use as lube, and he didn't give a single fuck about that because it was taking the edge off the burning, spiky feeling building up in his bones.
Full skin against skin felt amazing, and Hardison was almost startled by the sudden urgent need to fuck or be fucked. Not in ten minutes, not in two minutes. Right the hell now.
"Fuck," he hissed, tugging Eliot by the hips, trying to get them closer again. It was exasperation and a need for more friction that pulled the word from him, but Eliot took it as a command and flipped Hardison face down on the floor with one hand.
Hardison shuddered as Eliot rutted against him from behind, but after a few moments, he realized that Eliot wasn't going to be coordinated enough to do the fucking. And not fucking was not an option. There was a small-scale battle as Hardison tried to turn over again, but finally what he was trying to do became clear to Eliot and Hardison was allowed to continue.
He spit into his hand, the best he could come up with with his mind just a tangle of half-formed desires, and shoved Eliot hard against the floor with his other hand. Even with both of them in this state, he wasn't sure Eliot was going to lie back and just let Hardison be in charge.
Hardison was timid with his fingers at first, pressing into Eliot carefully while he watched Eliot's face closely at the same time. Hardison was worried, dimly, in the space in his mind that could worry and wasn't screaming out lust and obscenities, that he was being too rough, or that he shouldn't have started with two fingers.
But within seconds, Eliot was squirming against his hand and moaning low in the back of his throat. Hardison leaned forward, scraping the hand that was still planted against Eliot's chest downwards, leaving red scratches. He was hovering over Eliot, still fucking him with two fingers, watching his face for any sign of... well, anything. Eliot was panting like a dog, but his face was remarkably impassive.
"Fuck, there isn't time for you to take all goddamn day," he hissed, grabbing Hardison by the bicep. "Fuck. Me."
Hardison swiped his free hand across Eliot's cock, trying to catch as much of the wetness as he could. At the same time, he traded two fingers for three and laughed out loud when Eliot bit off a strangled yelp. "Now, Hardison, or I swear..."
He was going to swear anyway, Hardison thought, a little bit amused and somehow, though he doubted it was possible, harder at the thought. Eliot was absolutely undone and he wanted to be responsible for making that just a bit worse. Wiping his damp hand over his own dick only once, Hardison pushed Eliot's legs open a little wider and pushed into him in one quick motion.
Eliot shouted something wordless and swung his arm up, catching Hardison hard across the chest and knocking him back a few inches.
"Dude, chill the fuck out," Hardison said, feeling the friction burn in his knees already fading away under the spikes of need that were creeping back up. He grabbed Eliot's still outstretched hand and sucked a finger into his mouth, half as a distraction for Eliot and half to satisfy the sudden urge to have something in his mouth.
Both of them hissed as Hardison thrust in a second time with no preamble. He almost immediately started thrusting, not leaving any time for another rebuff, and after a few thrusts, they were both moaning. Eliot's hand fell to Hardison's chest, slick with spit, and just stayed there. Hardison leaned into the touch, still craving whatever contact he could get.
After a few moments, Hardison became aware that Eliot was muttering, hissing something under his breath in a constant litany, and Hardison found that didn't care at all what it was. He was riding high on wave after wave of heat, tight, burning heat, unlike anything he could remember feeling before.
"Fuck," he said, nearly choking around the word. "Feels so fucking good."
Eliot groaned, fingernails digging into Hardison's chest. His eyes were still squeezed shut tight. Out of embarrassment, shame, or sheer horror, Hardison wasn't sure. "Harder," Eliot said.
Hardison was more than happy to oblige. He braced himself on the floor, leaning forward over Eliot again and was nearly -- but not quite -- startled out of the faster rhythm when Eliot opened his eyes.
It took a moment of concentrating, but Hardison finally managed a "what?"
"You look so fucking good," Eliot said in a rush, shakily lifting his hand to touch Hardison's face.
The tiny part of Hardison's mind that was still able to form coherent, non-sexual thought was panicking, wondering why fucking another person had to be so damn intimate, but the rest of Hardison was still craving as much contact as he could get. He leaned into Eliot's hand and licked at his thumb when Eliot dragged it across his lips. "So fucking good," Eliot said again, groaning.
"Yeah? You like that?" Hardison asked, in a voice that sounded nothing like his own. He was almost embarrassed for himself, but then Eliot made a noise in reply, some barely human, totally primal noise and Hardison forgot what embarrassment was.
"God," Hardison hissed, thrusting hard into Eliot and pausing for a second to watch Eliot squirm. He ducked down and pressed a vicious kiss to Eliot's hot skin, scraping his teeth across a pulse point. "Want to break you," Hardison moaned, biting down harder.
Eliot made a noise that, to Hardison, sounded like agreement wrapped in pure sex. He dropped his head to Eliot's shoulder again and licked at a bead of sweat there. He closed his eyes, savouring not only the taste, but the suddenly higher pitch to the noises Eliot was making.
Eliot finally came between them, hot and sticky, and with his fingers dug into Hardison's forearms so hard, Hardison felt his bones grinding together.
"Oh, god," Hardison groaned, feeling himself tipping faster towards the edge of his own orgasm. The unnatural heat prickling across his skin and in the pit of his stomach that he was attributing to the pollen was building and building, making him squirm, trying to dig deeper into Eliot. Anything to make the sensation abate.
Hardison slowed his thrusting, trying to find a better angle or a way he could fuck Eliot a little harder, but when he tried to readjust, Eliot locked his ankles behind Hardison's knees like iron shackles and met his eyes levelly.
"Don't... stop..." he grunted, reaching between them to smear his come across Hardison's chest. Hardison blamed the pollen for why he found it so hot. Fucking into Eliot with renewed vigour, Hardison grabbed up Eliot's hand and licked the traces of his come off with a groan.
Hardison closed his eyes against Eliot's stare and focused on his own breathing. He was so close, but every time he thought he was going to come, he didn't. The pressure was building and Hardison was sure that if he didn't come soon, he could quite literally die.
"Fuck," he hissed, coming closer than he had before.
"Yeah," Eliot whispered, palming his cock. "Come. Please."
Hardison bit off a startled laugh, not sure if he was more shocked at what sounded like genuine emotion in Eliot's voice or the fact that he was suddenly coming, head dropping down against Eliot's chest and arms going weak.
After a few seconds of sweaty, exhausted limbs, and heavy breathing, Eliot flipped Hardison off of him and onto his back.
"Can't," Hardison managed to pant. "I can't do anything else."
"Can and will." Eliot crawled up Hardison's body, fingers trailing across bare skin, lighter than before, lighter and more delicate than Hardison would have thought Eliot could manage. He shuddered when Eliot leaned back on his knees, his hard dick inches from Hardison's face.
Hardison was still trying to catch his breath when Eliot took hold of his chin and inched forward again. "Suck," he said, and the tone brooked absolutely no argument.
There wasn't time for Hardison to protest, even if he had wanted to. Which he didn't. He sucked Eliot's cock into his mouth, coughing around the strange angle and his own enthusiasm. Eliot didn't seem to notice or care that Hardison was inexperienced and sloppy when it came to blowjobs, he just pinned him down and let Hardison fumble, hands-free, around his cock until he came again, messily and across Hardison's cheek.
Hardison coughed and wiped at his face, feeling the nasty, spiking heat fading out of him. Eliot flopped bonelessly onto the floor next to him and they didn't speak; they just lay in the quiet and waited until they could both breathe normally again.
"Umm," Hardison started, but Eliot swatted him in the shoulder.
"Pants," he said quickly. "And then we're getting the fuck out of here before it starts again."
"Right," Hardison said quietly, feeling around in the dim light for clothes.
Once Eliot's mind was clear and rid of the pollen, he had no trouble at all going major berserker on the door and getting them out into the blessedly cool and pollen-free hallway.
If there was anything out of place or unusual about them when they met the rest of the team at the van, no one said anything about it. Parker gave Hardison a long, sideways glance at one point, but she must have decided it wasn't worth pursuing. She wrinkled her nose, too, which made Hardison think that maybe the smell of sweat and sex on him was stronger than he thought, but again, she didn't have anything to say.
"So, what was back there? What the hell took you guys so long?" Nate asked Eliot quietly.
"Some trees," Eliot said. "It was dark, I got turned around."
"Ah, right," Nate said, clearly not buying it at all.
When Eliot glanced in the rear view mirror just before they all piled out of the van, Hardison looked away.
Nate filled them in on everything that had happened after they lost radio contact. He glanced over at where Hardison was sitting gingerly on the edge of his seat. He'd strained muscles he didn't even know he had in the... interaction from earlier. Eliot had opted to lean against the counter, avoiding the whole sitting fiasco altogether.
"And everything is... okay?" Nate asked.
"Yeah," Hardison said instantly, still not able to look Eliot in the eye. He wasn't sure what exactly he was feeling, whether it was guilt or shame or something else, but it was going to be at least two weeks of awkward silences and abruptly leaving the room whenever Eliot entered before Hardison would even be able to look at him at all. "Yeah, never been better."
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Hardison/Eliot
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 4500
Warnings: rough sex, sex pollen (so kind of dub-con, depending on how you want to read it)
Summary: Eliot goes temporarily missing on a job in a greenhouse and Hardison goes to find him.
Author's Notes: For my darling
scorpiod1. <3 thanks to xsnarkasaurus and bessyboo for the speedy and excellent beta."Check the security feed, Hardison. Find out where Eliot was before he dropped off the comm, Hardison. How did you manage to lose a grown man, Hardison," Hardison muttered under his breath while he scrolled through the ninety-one security cameras he was currently linked into at Scorpiod Scientific Unlimited. Eliot wasn't readily apparent on any of them, so he set up a triangulation on the last time Eliot's ear bud had sent or received a signal so he could try narrowing it down.
"I can hear you. Have you found him?" Nate said, unimpressed with Hardison's imitation of him.
"No," he snapped. "I'm trying to deal with a lot here."
"I told you I should have gone," Parker said, sounding tinny because she was in the same air vent she'd been in for the last three hours.
"We couldn't risk it with the guys down there on the floor. They're not regular security guards, Parker, remember; they're all ex-Navy, trained killers. And hired to kill anyone on sight," Nate said, voice wearing very thin.
"Well, now we lost Eliot, so we're screwed," Parker shot back.
The last thing Eliot had said was 'okay, I guess I'll go --', but it had cut out and the signal went dead before he said where he was going. He had been about to hit the last exit in the south wing of the main floor, the mysterious doorway that should have something beyond it, but by all investigations thus far, did not.
Hardison gritted his teeth together in frustration to stop himself from yelling. "We didn't lose him, I just can't find him."
"Explain how that's not the same thing."
"Hush, Parker, let me concentrate."
Scorpiod Scientific Unlimited was doing some questionable things in genetic engineering, hence the very qualified security detail, but the team was still fairly unsure as to what those questionable things might be.
"If it's genetic engineering, that's like... mutant cows, right?" Parker had asked at the briefing. Everyone had dismissed it right away, shooting her tired looks or rolling their eyes, but without Eliot's calm, vaguely annoyed presence on the comms telling him he was an idiot and to focus or he was going to get his ass kicked into his face, Hardison was imagining killer cows rampaging through the streets of Boston, eating schoolchildren.
It had been one hell of a job, thus far. Three weeks they'd been at it, and everyone was ready for it to be over. Tonight was supposed to be the game changer, the move that put them in control and got them the information they needed to bring down the company and its crooked Chief Science Officer. Of course, the whole bet was off if Eliot disappeared with the only copy of the map they had.
"He was right next to that door, Nate." Hardison reported back, feeling tension in his chest that was probably worry. He ignored it. "But I don't have eyes beyond that point. Someone's got to go find him."
"Absolutely not," Nate said flatly. "Sophie's still working on Ruffman, so we'll see if she can't get anything about the door from him. In the meantime, Eliot will come back." He said it like it was an absolute fact, and he said it in his fact voice, which was often comforting. Hardison didn't feel comforted. He had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't place, and he didn't like it.
"Someone's coming," he said, whipping around when he heard the footsteps. "I'm bailing."
"Do that," Nate said quickly. "Parker, are you still in position?"
"Yes, but I don't know which direction I'm supposed to be facing. Eliot was going to tell me when he got in."
"Okay, get out the way you came and head for the van," Nate told her. "I'm going to hit the director's office again, so Hardison, find a safe place and disarm the door for me."
"It's a green house," Sophie said suddenly, cutting through everything else. "On the other side of the door. A secret green house for so-called 'dangerous' plants."
"How can a plant be dangerous? Like a Venus fly trap? And Nate, the door is open." Hardison clicked a few buttons on his netbook. "Go now if you're going."
"Hardison, how are your allergies?" Nate asked in a low voice.
Hardison glared as his screen for lack of Nate to glare at. "What allergies?"
"Like... Hay fever, pollen allergies, that kind of thing."
"Man, you just said we shouldn't go after Eliot, now you want me to?"
There was a silence long enough to make Hardison antsy. "Nate?"
"Yes, sorry. Yes Hardison, go find him. Now. We need to know which way Parker has to go to get into this vault and he's the only one with the map. Find him ASAP."
Hardison muttered a couple choice curse words under his breath, but he knew that was the best plan. "Okay, fine, but what about the killer Navy guys?"
"I've already got a distraction planned. You just have to get to the door on your own, then the second you drop off the comm, we'll know you're through. Get Eliot and meet at Lucille."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," Hardison said, flipping his netbook shut and sliding it into his bag. "If I get eaten by a Venus fly trap the size of a hippo, we're going to have words."
Hardison worked on an escape plan in case he was met by some of those scary security guards on his way down three floors to the greenhouse door, quickly picking an id card from a passing employee and stuffing his hoodie in a bag so he at least looked slightly less out of place.
"'Kay, at the door. See you all shortly." Hardison took a deep breath, mentally prepared himself for possible plant-based attacks and shoved open the door. He was barely two steps in when the heavy metal swung shut and made a very definite locking sound behind him.
Besides the noise of from the door, Hardison noticed two things right away. It was dark and it was humid. There were two white emergency lights, high up on the ceiling, but very little of the light they cast reached the floor. And he could barely see them through the leaves. He was definitely in a greenhouse.
"Fuck no. Hardison, get out of here," Eliot hissed from somewhere nearby. "Go, now."
"I was supposed to come and rescue you from the big, bad flower pots, jackass. Come on, let's get out of here. Everyone's waiting at the van," Hardison said to the dark. He backed up to open the door, but his hands only met smooth, cool metal. "Okay, well, not this way. Don't greenhouses have to attach to outside? Let's go break some glass."
"Don't!" Eliot snapped as Hardison took a step towards the direction he was presumably in.
"What the hell is your problem?"
"Don't touch any of the plants. Don't even breath near them. Something fucked up is happening. You need to get out of here." Eliot sounded weird, like a little out of breath and maybe a little dazed.
Hardison narrowed his eyes at the shadow beyond a tall, potted tree thing that he thought might be Eliot. His eyes were starting to adjust a little better and he could see Eliot shifting his weight back and forth, like he had a nervous tick. That wasn't something Eliot usually did, not even when he was getting frustrated or bored. "Are you okay, man? Did you touch something?"
"Yeah," Eliot said, his voice tight.
"Shit, are you sick or something? Don't tell me you're going to pass out, because I am not dragging you out to the van." Hardison tried not to imagine the ass kicking he'd receive after that kind of heroism.
"Shut up, I'm not going to pass out," Eliot snapped. Whatever it was, it wasn't affecting his legendary patience.
"Come on, this place is freaking me out. You're freaking me out," Hardison said, a little more insistently.
"There's no way for us to get out," Eliot said. Just a straight-forward sentence. A clear, concise statement. He didn't offer an alternate plan or suggest a course of action. It was simply a fact when Eliot said it like that, and it made Hardison worry.
"So, what should we do?" He'd been standing in the dark long enough that he could see as much as he was going to. Eliot was indeed the shadow Hardison had thought he was, and while he didn't look on the verge on unconsciousness, there was definitely something different with him.
"No idea. Suffer, probably," Eliot said. "Come look at this sign."
Hardison dropped his bag next to the door and went over to where Eliot was standing and pointing. He squinted in the low light. The sign was neatly handwritten on brightly coloured paper, and at the end of the text, there was a smiley face. Hardison felt distinctly non-smiley when he'd finished reading it.
Hello! If you're reading this sign, it's already too late. The plants that fill this room are a genetic mistake, definitely something that should not have been allowed to exist. Who knows, maybe God has abandoned you like he abandoned these poor plants (presuming, of course, you even believe in that sort of thing). Either way, here you are with them, locked in. Chances are, you're here alone. In that case, I'm really sorry, but you've probably only got a few hours to live. Our staff only checks this room once a week and chances are not good that they'll get to you in time. They'd probably have you shot on sight anyways, though, if that's any consolation. If you have the incredible luck to be locked in with another person, get ready to hang on tight. These plants are releasing a specially-engineered type of spore into the air -- the air you've been breathing all this time -- that infiltrates the human body via the lungs and quickly creates an insatiable lust that will kill you if you try to fight it. Basically, it's fuck or die. Enjoy it though, because like it was mentioned already, our staff will kill you when they find you. Thanks for your contributions to science.
Sincerely,
The Scorpiod Scientific Unlimited Team
"Pretty long winded sign, huh?" Eliot said, trying to make a joke. It fell supremely flat.
Hardison rubbed his hands over his face in disbelief. "Oh my god. Really? Seriously? Seriously. What the fuck is up with bad science this week? First the potato, now this ridiculousness?"
"I, uh... Don't think it's a joke." Eliot had that shaky quality to his voice again. Hardison turned around to snap at him and caught full sight of the bulge in Eliot's pants.
"Oh. My. God," he said again, turning around again. The heat in his face was embarrassing, but more than that, he felt that same obvious, curling heat working its way down his spine. "This is not happening."
"Shut up, Hardison," Eliot said, only the smallest note of warning in his voice. It sounded like it was being crowded out by the lust. Hardison didn't really think Eliot's voice could get more gravelly, but there he stood, obviously corrected, and with an insistent erection of his own.
"Can you think of an explanation for all this?" Eliot said, as if their current situation was somehow Hardison's fault.
"No. I mean, it's bad science, man. Someone was messing around with some genes or something, and spliced the wrong ones together. This kind of stuff isn't supposed to happen." Hardison knew he was probably imagining it, but he felt like he could feel Eliot staring at him.
"So you've never heard of anything like this before?"
"Not unless Buffy slash Willow counts," Hardison said.
"Oh, so you don't know if... People survive this kind of stuff?"
Hardison let out a short, bitter laugh. "I don't even know what's going on, man."
He took another deep, steadying breath, but it wasn't helping. He wasn't feeling steady; he was starting to get light-headed. His mind was racing, flashing images of bare skin and taut bodies, soft curves and dark hair, and all the other things he was trying not to think about. "I can't believe this is actually happening."
"Well, it is," Eliot said, right behind him. Hardison jumped a little and despite a small part of his mind thinking it was a very bad idea, he turned around to face him.
In the low light, and with Eliot standing so close, it was nearly impossible to make out any distinct features, but Hardison didn't need to see Eliot's face to feel his heart and dick leap when Eliot grabbed him by the hips and pulled them flush together.
"Oh god," Hardison said through a shaky breath, trying not to collapse against him. The friction between them sent shocks straight through him but was nowhere near what he was craving.
"Sorry," Eliot muttered, though he didn't specify if he was sorry for grabbing Hardison or because it still didn't feel like enough. He was working at unbuttoning Hardison's fly with shaky hands and he cursed under his breath when he couldn't get the right grip.
"We're going to do this?" Hardison asked. He knew that the situation was swiftly spinning out of control and that they should stop and try to work out a plan that didn't involve one of them fully bent over the nearest table, but the heat between them and the feel of Eliot still trying to work his hand down the front of Hardison's pants was clouding every bit of judgement, good or otherwise, he thought he had.
"Sign says we'll die," Eliot said, giving up on Hardison's pants temporarily, and apparently on full sentences. He flung his own shirt on the floor and reached for Hardison's tee shirt until Hardison wriggled out of it. Hardison was about to ask if Eliot believed everything he read on signs, still trying to distract them both from what might or might not be happening to them, but the second his shirt was out of the way, Eliot was on him.
Lips and teeth and a very hot mouth against his skin made Hardison shudder and curse again at the sudden rush of feeling, and Eliot moaned loud and uninhibited, clearly agreeing.
It was the skin on skin contact that made the twisting, urgent feeling in the pit of his stomach subside just a little, Hardison realized. Then he realized Eliot had been in this room, breathing in the plant spores for a lot longer than he had. If he already felt half-dazed and rock hard, he could only imagine how much worse off Eliot must be.
"Fuck, fuck, damn," Hardison muttered. He batted Eliot's hands away from his jeans again, not because he didn't want to be out of them, but because Eliot's hands were shaking so badly that it was more of an annoyance than anything. "Here," he said, stripping off his pants and leaning back on the table so he could kick them off.
Eliot leaned into him as he leaned back, putting Hardison drastically off-balance again and forcing him further against the table.
"This is going to get stupid, isn't it?" Hardison asked, already reaching for Eliot's fly.
"Shut up, Hardison."
He managed to pop the top button and Eliot wriggled his way free of his pants without taking his mouth from Hardison's neck.
"I just --" Hardison tried again.
"Shut up, Hardison."
Hardison was about to tell Eliot that he had no intention of shutting up, that this was all moving too fast and that Eliot was clearly not in control of his actions, but instead, Hardison said "nngh." Eliot pulled him away from the table and dragged them both to the floor, covering Hardison's mouth with his own.
The tile floor was cold against his back but it didn't matter because Eliot's mouth on his was taking up his whole attention. There wasn't much grace in kissing at the best of times, but the spores were making it pure chaos. Not that it mattered while they were on the floor, grinding against each other in a tangle of limbs and unable to stop, even for a second, to catch their breath or hiss a curse word or anything else.
Hardison knew, objectively, that the way Eliot's hand scraping against his cock was way too rough, with nothing to use as lube, and he didn't give a single fuck about that because it was taking the edge off the burning, spiky feeling building up in his bones.
Full skin against skin felt amazing, and Hardison was almost startled by the sudden urgent need to fuck or be fucked. Not in ten minutes, not in two minutes. Right the hell now.
"Fuck," he hissed, tugging Eliot by the hips, trying to get them closer again. It was exasperation and a need for more friction that pulled the word from him, but Eliot took it as a command and flipped Hardison face down on the floor with one hand.
Hardison shuddered as Eliot rutted against him from behind, but after a few moments, he realized that Eliot wasn't going to be coordinated enough to do the fucking. And not fucking was not an option. There was a small-scale battle as Hardison tried to turn over again, but finally what he was trying to do became clear to Eliot and Hardison was allowed to continue.
He spit into his hand, the best he could come up with with his mind just a tangle of half-formed desires, and shoved Eliot hard against the floor with his other hand. Even with both of them in this state, he wasn't sure Eliot was going to lie back and just let Hardison be in charge.
Hardison was timid with his fingers at first, pressing into Eliot carefully while he watched Eliot's face closely at the same time. Hardison was worried, dimly, in the space in his mind that could worry and wasn't screaming out lust and obscenities, that he was being too rough, or that he shouldn't have started with two fingers.
But within seconds, Eliot was squirming against his hand and moaning low in the back of his throat. Hardison leaned forward, scraping the hand that was still planted against Eliot's chest downwards, leaving red scratches. He was hovering over Eliot, still fucking him with two fingers, watching his face for any sign of... well, anything. Eliot was panting like a dog, but his face was remarkably impassive.
"Fuck, there isn't time for you to take all goddamn day," he hissed, grabbing Hardison by the bicep. "Fuck. Me."
Hardison swiped his free hand across Eliot's cock, trying to catch as much of the wetness as he could. At the same time, he traded two fingers for three and laughed out loud when Eliot bit off a strangled yelp. "Now, Hardison, or I swear..."
He was going to swear anyway, Hardison thought, a little bit amused and somehow, though he doubted it was possible, harder at the thought. Eliot was absolutely undone and he wanted to be responsible for making that just a bit worse. Wiping his damp hand over his own dick only once, Hardison pushed Eliot's legs open a little wider and pushed into him in one quick motion.
Eliot shouted something wordless and swung his arm up, catching Hardison hard across the chest and knocking him back a few inches.
"Dude, chill the fuck out," Hardison said, feeling the friction burn in his knees already fading away under the spikes of need that were creeping back up. He grabbed Eliot's still outstretched hand and sucked a finger into his mouth, half as a distraction for Eliot and half to satisfy the sudden urge to have something in his mouth.
Both of them hissed as Hardison thrust in a second time with no preamble. He almost immediately started thrusting, not leaving any time for another rebuff, and after a few thrusts, they were both moaning. Eliot's hand fell to Hardison's chest, slick with spit, and just stayed there. Hardison leaned into the touch, still craving whatever contact he could get.
After a few moments, Hardison became aware that Eliot was muttering, hissing something under his breath in a constant litany, and Hardison found that didn't care at all what it was. He was riding high on wave after wave of heat, tight, burning heat, unlike anything he could remember feeling before.
"Fuck," he said, nearly choking around the word. "Feels so fucking good."
Eliot groaned, fingernails digging into Hardison's chest. His eyes were still squeezed shut tight. Out of embarrassment, shame, or sheer horror, Hardison wasn't sure. "Harder," Eliot said.
Hardison was more than happy to oblige. He braced himself on the floor, leaning forward over Eliot again and was nearly -- but not quite -- startled out of the faster rhythm when Eliot opened his eyes.
It took a moment of concentrating, but Hardison finally managed a "what?"
"You look so fucking good," Eliot said in a rush, shakily lifting his hand to touch Hardison's face.
The tiny part of Hardison's mind that was still able to form coherent, non-sexual thought was panicking, wondering why fucking another person had to be so damn intimate, but the rest of Hardison was still craving as much contact as he could get. He leaned into Eliot's hand and licked at his thumb when Eliot dragged it across his lips. "So fucking good," Eliot said again, groaning.
"Yeah? You like that?" Hardison asked, in a voice that sounded nothing like his own. He was almost embarrassed for himself, but then Eliot made a noise in reply, some barely human, totally primal noise and Hardison forgot what embarrassment was.
"God," Hardison hissed, thrusting hard into Eliot and pausing for a second to watch Eliot squirm. He ducked down and pressed a vicious kiss to Eliot's hot skin, scraping his teeth across a pulse point. "Want to break you," Hardison moaned, biting down harder.
Eliot made a noise that, to Hardison, sounded like agreement wrapped in pure sex. He dropped his head to Eliot's shoulder again and licked at a bead of sweat there. He closed his eyes, savouring not only the taste, but the suddenly higher pitch to the noises Eliot was making.
Eliot finally came between them, hot and sticky, and with his fingers dug into Hardison's forearms so hard, Hardison felt his bones grinding together.
"Oh, god," Hardison groaned, feeling himself tipping faster towards the edge of his own orgasm. The unnatural heat prickling across his skin and in the pit of his stomach that he was attributing to the pollen was building and building, making him squirm, trying to dig deeper into Eliot. Anything to make the sensation abate.
Hardison slowed his thrusting, trying to find a better angle or a way he could fuck Eliot a little harder, but when he tried to readjust, Eliot locked his ankles behind Hardison's knees like iron shackles and met his eyes levelly.
"Don't... stop..." he grunted, reaching between them to smear his come across Hardison's chest. Hardison blamed the pollen for why he found it so hot. Fucking into Eliot with renewed vigour, Hardison grabbed up Eliot's hand and licked the traces of his come off with a groan.
Hardison closed his eyes against Eliot's stare and focused on his own breathing. He was so close, but every time he thought he was going to come, he didn't. The pressure was building and Hardison was sure that if he didn't come soon, he could quite literally die.
"Fuck," he hissed, coming closer than he had before.
"Yeah," Eliot whispered, palming his cock. "Come. Please."
Hardison bit off a startled laugh, not sure if he was more shocked at what sounded like genuine emotion in Eliot's voice or the fact that he was suddenly coming, head dropping down against Eliot's chest and arms going weak.
After a few seconds of sweaty, exhausted limbs, and heavy breathing, Eliot flipped Hardison off of him and onto his back.
"Can't," Hardison managed to pant. "I can't do anything else."
"Can and will." Eliot crawled up Hardison's body, fingers trailing across bare skin, lighter than before, lighter and more delicate than Hardison would have thought Eliot could manage. He shuddered when Eliot leaned back on his knees, his hard dick inches from Hardison's face.
Hardison was still trying to catch his breath when Eliot took hold of his chin and inched forward again. "Suck," he said, and the tone brooked absolutely no argument.
There wasn't time for Hardison to protest, even if he had wanted to. Which he didn't. He sucked Eliot's cock into his mouth, coughing around the strange angle and his own enthusiasm. Eliot didn't seem to notice or care that Hardison was inexperienced and sloppy when it came to blowjobs, he just pinned him down and let Hardison fumble, hands-free, around his cock until he came again, messily and across Hardison's cheek.
Hardison coughed and wiped at his face, feeling the nasty, spiking heat fading out of him. Eliot flopped bonelessly onto the floor next to him and they didn't speak; they just lay in the quiet and waited until they could both breathe normally again.
"Umm," Hardison started, but Eliot swatted him in the shoulder.
"Pants," he said quickly. "And then we're getting the fuck out of here before it starts again."
"Right," Hardison said quietly, feeling around in the dim light for clothes.
Once Eliot's mind was clear and rid of the pollen, he had no trouble at all going major berserker on the door and getting them out into the blessedly cool and pollen-free hallway.
If there was anything out of place or unusual about them when they met the rest of the team at the van, no one said anything about it. Parker gave Hardison a long, sideways glance at one point, but she must have decided it wasn't worth pursuing. She wrinkled her nose, too, which made Hardison think that maybe the smell of sweat and sex on him was stronger than he thought, but again, she didn't have anything to say.
"So, what was back there? What the hell took you guys so long?" Nate asked Eliot quietly.
"Some trees," Eliot said. "It was dark, I got turned around."
"Ah, right," Nate said, clearly not buying it at all.
When Eliot glanced in the rear view mirror just before they all piled out of the van, Hardison looked away.
Nate filled them in on everything that had happened after they lost radio contact. He glanced over at where Hardison was sitting gingerly on the edge of his seat. He'd strained muscles he didn't even know he had in the... interaction from earlier. Eliot had opted to lean against the counter, avoiding the whole sitting fiasco altogether.
"And everything is... okay?" Nate asked.
"Yeah," Hardison said instantly, still not able to look Eliot in the eye. He wasn't sure what exactly he was feeling, whether it was guilt or shame or something else, but it was going to be at least two weeks of awkward silences and abruptly leaving the room whenever Eliot entered before Hardison would even be able to look at him at all. "Yeah, never been better."