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kathierif_ficTitle: I saw this in a movie once
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison
Rating: FRT-13
Summary: Hardison could swear that he’d seen this in a movie once, but he’s too busy with other things right now
Disclaimer: Also not mine. More sniff.
A/N: Written for kink_bingo, prompt domestic/tradesman. 1088 words.
Eliot was wearing a red-checkered flannel shirt that was slightly frayed at the cuffs and the corners of the collar. The material was soft and often washed, the color not as intense anymore as it once had been.
Hardison’s fingers, usually so dexterous and swift, trembled slightly as they pushed buttons through their holes and slowly parted the fabric to reveal the white cotton of Eliot’s undershirt and beneath that, skin that seemed to pale compared to his own, darker fingers.
“Hardison,” Eliot growled, “dammit, wait…” But the rest of his complaints were quickly muffled and swallowed by Hardison’s lips and tongue, seeking out Eliot’s own in an almost desperate kiss. His fingers were still tangled in and under Eliot’s shirt, his hips straining closer to Eliot, for friction, and eventually, hopefully release.
Eliot growled deep in his throat and bit at Hardison’s bottom lip, the sharp pain stinging enough to make Hardison pull back with a yelp.
“I said wait,” Eliot snapped. “What are you doing, man? You said you need help with some furniture thing.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hardison ran his own tongue experimentally over his lip, to find out if it was split or not, and reached for Eliot again, the reason why he’d called him on a Sunday afternoon and asked to come over almost forgotten.
Eliot’s eyes narrowed. “You made p some shit about needing help to make out with me?” he asked suspiciously.
“No!” Hardison shook his head empathically, taking a step back at the sight of Eliot’s expression. “I swear, it’s not that, Eliot. Not this time.”
“Then what?”
Hardison’s shoulders slumped slightly as his arousal was dampened. It looked as if Eliot wasn’t interested in having sex with him today, which, Hardison thought, was a damn shame because Eliot looked like a wet dream come true. He was prepared to do some work around the house, or the apartment, as it was.
Hardison was a considerate house-owner. He wanted the people who lived in his properties to be comfortable and well-cared for, which meant that occasionally, he needed to hire someone for all the little things that needed to get fixed around the house.
Asking Eliot to do it had been the best decision he could’ve made, he’d decided. There was something about Eliot working with his hands that made Hardison’s mouth turn dry and his blood go south, and Eliot usually didn’t mind getting paid in blowjobs.
Asking Eliot to fix something for him, personally, on the other hand, seemed to be dangerous territory, even if the other man had come when Hardison had called.
“My computer desk broke down last night,” he admitted in a quiet voice. The desk had been acting wonky for weeks now, but it hadn’t actually crashed until Hardison had powered his babies down and had crawled between the sheets the night before. He’d barely dozed off when the loud crash had sent him, flailing and gasping, to the floor.
Eliot rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath that didn’t sound very nice, and turned toward Hardison’s office, Hardison himself following him hurriedly.
It really looked like Eliot wasn’t in the mood for sex today, but at least he’d come, he thought again. Even if Eliot just fixed the desk, there was nothing that could stop Hardison from watching him doing it, committing every detail of it to his memory, and jerking off to it later.
He’d already done what he could, had cleared the computer parts away and had stacked them against the opposite wall after making sure that nothing had been damaged.
Eliot glared at the heap of material that had once been a perfectly fine and stylish computer table as if it had personally offended him by collapsing, but then, he crouched down in front of it and inspected it more closely.
Hardison stared transfixedly at his ass.
He was still staring when Eliot straightened and turned back to face him.
“You need a new one,” he decided. “This…it’s crap. There’s nothing to fix anymore.”
Hardison grimaced, but he didn’t even get the chance to say anything before Eliot had turned his attention back and had started to sort through the pile.
Half an hour later he had a plan, had sent Hardison out to get material, and was building him a new desk.
Building it with his own two hands.
It wasn’t exactly what Hardison had hoped would happen – not once Eliot had stepped into Hardison’s apartment and Hardison had gotten his hands on him – but he watched Eliot working, cutting wood and fitting pieces together, screws being put into the smooth surface of wood without any of the material splintering, Eliot’s hands sure and certain with the tools, and Hardison had to swallow thickly, a steady low grade of arousal deep in his stomach.
This, he decided. This was just like that one porn flick he’d loved as a teenager, the one he’d watched so often while jerking off that he only needed to close his eyes now to remember every detail, except that this was better.
The smell of sawdust and Eliot filled his nostrils, and he couldn’t hold back his grin.
This was real. This was 3D, color, high definition porn. He could watch the muscles in Eliot’s forearms where he’d rolled up the sleeves of his still unbuttoned shirt, could let his gaze wander over the tight curve of denim-covered ass and over Eliot’s strong back and shoulders without being guided by a camera.
He could swear that he hadn’t seen a single porn movie yet that was as erotic as watching as Eliot built him a desk. Vaguely, he thought he should record this, but he was too busy trying not to drool.
Finally, Eliot straightened. His palm brushed over the surface of the finished desk. He put down the tools he’d used, and then, he turned toward Hardison with a grin and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Well? Want to test-drive it?” he asked and patted the surface gently.
The smell of sawdust and freshly cut wood was still heavy in the air, and Hardison didn’t hesitate. He climbed over tools and computer parts, over left-over pieces of wood and crowded Eliot against his new desk and kissed him deeply, his hands coming to rest on Eliot’s strong shoulders.
This definitely was better than any movie he’d ever seen.
This was real.
And he was the one playing the biggest role.
He, Eliot, and that brand-new desk he was now being pushed against.
~end.
Fandom: Leverage
Pairing: Eliot/Hardison
Rating: FRT-13
Summary: Hardison could swear that he’d seen this in a movie once, but he’s too busy with other things right now
Disclaimer: Also not mine. More sniff.
A/N: Written for kink_bingo, prompt domestic/tradesman. 1088 words.
Eliot was wearing a red-checkered flannel shirt that was slightly frayed at the cuffs and the corners of the collar. The material was soft and often washed, the color not as intense anymore as it once had been.
Hardison’s fingers, usually so dexterous and swift, trembled slightly as they pushed buttons through their holes and slowly parted the fabric to reveal the white cotton of Eliot’s undershirt and beneath that, skin that seemed to pale compared to his own, darker fingers.
“Hardison,” Eliot growled, “dammit, wait…” But the rest of his complaints were quickly muffled and swallowed by Hardison’s lips and tongue, seeking out Eliot’s own in an almost desperate kiss. His fingers were still tangled in and under Eliot’s shirt, his hips straining closer to Eliot, for friction, and eventually, hopefully release.
Eliot growled deep in his throat and bit at Hardison’s bottom lip, the sharp pain stinging enough to make Hardison pull back with a yelp.
“I said wait,” Eliot snapped. “What are you doing, man? You said you need help with some furniture thing.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Hardison ran his own tongue experimentally over his lip, to find out if it was split or not, and reached for Eliot again, the reason why he’d called him on a Sunday afternoon and asked to come over almost forgotten.
Eliot’s eyes narrowed. “You made p some shit about needing help to make out with me?” he asked suspiciously.
“No!” Hardison shook his head empathically, taking a step back at the sight of Eliot’s expression. “I swear, it’s not that, Eliot. Not this time.”
“Then what?”
Hardison’s shoulders slumped slightly as his arousal was dampened. It looked as if Eliot wasn’t interested in having sex with him today, which, Hardison thought, was a damn shame because Eliot looked like a wet dream come true. He was prepared to do some work around the house, or the apartment, as it was.
Hardison was a considerate house-owner. He wanted the people who lived in his properties to be comfortable and well-cared for, which meant that occasionally, he needed to hire someone for all the little things that needed to get fixed around the house.
Asking Eliot to do it had been the best decision he could’ve made, he’d decided. There was something about Eliot working with his hands that made Hardison’s mouth turn dry and his blood go south, and Eliot usually didn’t mind getting paid in blowjobs.
Asking Eliot to fix something for him, personally, on the other hand, seemed to be dangerous territory, even if the other man had come when Hardison had called.
“My computer desk broke down last night,” he admitted in a quiet voice. The desk had been acting wonky for weeks now, but it hadn’t actually crashed until Hardison had powered his babies down and had crawled between the sheets the night before. He’d barely dozed off when the loud crash had sent him, flailing and gasping, to the floor.
Eliot rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath that didn’t sound very nice, and turned toward Hardison’s office, Hardison himself following him hurriedly.
It really looked like Eliot wasn’t in the mood for sex today, but at least he’d come, he thought again. Even if Eliot just fixed the desk, there was nothing that could stop Hardison from watching him doing it, committing every detail of it to his memory, and jerking off to it later.
He’d already done what he could, had cleared the computer parts away and had stacked them against the opposite wall after making sure that nothing had been damaged.
Eliot glared at the heap of material that had once been a perfectly fine and stylish computer table as if it had personally offended him by collapsing, but then, he crouched down in front of it and inspected it more closely.
Hardison stared transfixedly at his ass.
He was still staring when Eliot straightened and turned back to face him.
“You need a new one,” he decided. “This…it’s crap. There’s nothing to fix anymore.”
Hardison grimaced, but he didn’t even get the chance to say anything before Eliot had turned his attention back and had started to sort through the pile.
Half an hour later he had a plan, had sent Hardison out to get material, and was building him a new desk.
Building it with his own two hands.
It wasn’t exactly what Hardison had hoped would happen – not once Eliot had stepped into Hardison’s apartment and Hardison had gotten his hands on him – but he watched Eliot working, cutting wood and fitting pieces together, screws being put into the smooth surface of wood without any of the material splintering, Eliot’s hands sure and certain with the tools, and Hardison had to swallow thickly, a steady low grade of arousal deep in his stomach.
This, he decided. This was just like that one porn flick he’d loved as a teenager, the one he’d watched so often while jerking off that he only needed to close his eyes now to remember every detail, except that this was better.
The smell of sawdust and Eliot filled his nostrils, and he couldn’t hold back his grin.
This was real. This was 3D, color, high definition porn. He could watch the muscles in Eliot’s forearms where he’d rolled up the sleeves of his still unbuttoned shirt, could let his gaze wander over the tight curve of denim-covered ass and over Eliot’s strong back and shoulders without being guided by a camera.
He could swear that he hadn’t seen a single porn movie yet that was as erotic as watching as Eliot built him a desk. Vaguely, he thought he should record this, but he was too busy trying not to drool.
Finally, Eliot straightened. His palm brushed over the surface of the finished desk. He put down the tools he’d used, and then, he turned toward Hardison with a grin and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Well? Want to test-drive it?” he asked and patted the surface gently.
The smell of sawdust and freshly cut wood was still heavy in the air, and Hardison didn’t hesitate. He climbed over tools and computer parts, over left-over pieces of wood and crowded Eliot against his new desk and kissed him deeply, his hands coming to rest on Eliot’s strong shoulders.
This definitely was better than any movie he’d ever seen.
This was real.
And he was the one playing the biggest role.
He, Eliot, and that brand-new desk he was now being pushed against.
~end.