[lev:red 3.04 spoilers, very suggestive in the most mundane of ways?] while there are many closer by their house or hq, when they have the time eliot walks thirty minutes off route to go to a small family-owned pharmacy because he knows they offer hand packing of pills. probably why they're still in business; rare thing these days, and eliot may not have allergies, but he knows the resistances and sensitivites he's developed over the years, and he knows they can pack his shit right.
their home supply just ran out of simple antibacterial cream, and so eliot makes his way over. he notices parker, of course, a few minutes in, but he doesn't call her out and she hangs back. trailing him. watching him.
when he's picks just a tube of the cream, he hands it off to his side and (as expected) finds parker there with a basket. he peeks in and sees tampons, one of every kind of floss they have in stock, and a small bottle of the multivitamins hardison prefers, as well as (like a troubling promise of what their night might be like) lube, two boxes of sesame street band-aids, and glucose monitoring lancets.
eliot sighs, picks up the lube, and says silicone? really gonna need that? we still got some at—at her devious smile, eliot tosses the tube back in. right.
before he can drop his hand, parker snaps forward and steals it. she holds it up, examining the knuckle of the index finger. it bears the mark of where her canine tore into the flesh just a few days before. the area around it has now reddened, although it's thankfully not swollen or hot to the touch. yet.
it's still bothering you? you would think your body would have gotten used to my—parker chomps her teeth—by now.
agitated it fending off the goon squad, i reckon. eliot flexes his fingers. close enough to the bone im keeping an eye on it.
parker pouts thoughtfully, pressing a thumb into where he's most tender. should i pick up condoms?
made sure to not break their skin, so we should be good on exposure. there was once when he wouldn't have dared over a paper cut, but eliot has calmed down, putting more trust into PrEP and his ability to subdue without bloodshed. if you need them for your plans, wouldn’t hurt?
parker glances down, calculates, and then skips off. eliot follows as she snatches a box of latex gloves instead of condoms, hot & cold strips, and... yup, alright. she has definitely plans, judging by her pausing over the incontinence bed pads.
eliot shakes his head. deciding between comfort or absorption?
parker nods. given the greater utility, he reaches for the latter but perhaps his movement prompted her, because she snatches forward for one outside his usual dimensions for the widest.
no sharps in my ass, parker.
parker glares at him. i know that! she then... huh, shoves the basket at him and storms off. she lets him see her bump into a display to steal a chocolate bar on her way out.
her outburst surprises eliot. makes him pause. review their conversation tor any other obvious signs of distress, and finding no more agitation than her new usual since hardison left.
but she has been off.
eliot dutifully checks out (making sure they ring up the chocolate as well) and he doesn't have to go far to find parker. she sits on the old coin operated dolphin outside the shop.
gonna tell me what that was about?
when parker doesn't answer right away, he pats his pockets and puts the two quarters in, making parker rock back and forth morosely.
i take good care of you, parker finally says.
course you do, darling. it was a bad joke on my part. you're a good dom—
its not about that. ill do anything for my family.
eliot squeezes her shoulder. i know that too.
parker finishes off the chocolate and waits until the dolphin stops before she continues, voice small and eyes avoiding contact: was i too... she waves up and down her body. ...me this time?
how you figure?
bre got hurt. i scared the nana haters and they took too long and bre had to make a distraction, so. my fault.
oh, park...
she jumps up at her name and starts walking home. eliot matches her pace. he stops her, pulls her into the shadow of a building. parker is at a height with eliot, but sometimes it cna be so obvious how much more lean she is than him but how small she looks when she's feeling pathetic. eliot covers her jaw with his hand not busy with the bag of newly purchased items; he can see where she bit him against her skin.
i know they're, like, trafficking victims. but im still so angry at them.
we get heated during cases. harry had his own moment. you and soph conspired to get bre up there in just that case, right? parker shrugs, noncommittal.
im supposed to be better than that. im me.
that aint how this works.
it should be.
eliot kisses her lips softly, which she tolerates, especially as he puts their foreheads together. they stand close.
i had your back. you had mine, when i had to fight, figuring out how to get into the room fastest. sophie and me, maybe we overlooked how much anyone targeting a nana would make you invested and protective. oversight from sophie as our mastermind and, eliot swallows with a wobble, me as your partner. especially...
especially?
with hardison gone.
parker tenses up. oh.
i miss him too. i always miss him when he's gone away. miss you when—
in a breath, parker slips out of eliots grasp and starts speeding away, to the point eliot has to jog to catch up.
okay. i understand now. im done with those emotions right now.
alright darling, eliot says softly, seeing parkers walla go up rather than get emotional in public.
wanna go home. gonna poke and fuck you so hard.
eliot is excited to have sex with parker, whatever wild and potentially messy it will be. but as he scrolls aside parker, he knows he loves this too: walking by her side, supporting her, with hardisons name on his tongue.
once, on a mountain, they confessed to one another: what makes them them is that they would leave a dead man behind to save their own lives.
then, in a train tunnel about to face the end of the world, there is a nod. an agreement struck deep and true and together. this time, they are the only ones who can do the job because they know they may die but it's an easy choice, for them.
hardison tells parker in that tunnel (and later, eliot once they are all curled around each other under sheets and the weight of what could have been) that she can't do that again, she can't. he can't. hardison needs them.
but eliot and parker are who they are because they can make the call. and they would. any and every time. eliot knows this for sure. because for all your intentions, you can only make the promise to be there for one person at a time when push comes to shove. that parker would make the same choice as him is why he loves her and why she loves him. because they alone would break their oath (that they change together) so that the man they both love—and the world he treasures—may yet live.
[nsfw, lev:red 3.01 spoilers] she not joining us after all? eliot asks as he enters the room, limbs loose from yoga. stating the obvious helps broker conversations with hardison, he's found, when he needs to learn how to tread forward.
mama got stuck on the time lord proposal as my next line of work. again. hardison holds his phone to his chest, sighing in askance and fondness at once. eliot crosses the room and sits on parker's side of the bed, where hardison has nudged himself over to, perhaps subconsciously. needed to cool her head.
eliot puts a heavy hand on hardisons knee covered by a thin blanket. seeing this, hardison puts his phone on the nightshade, anticipating one way this may go. better response than last time, if shes already on you reinventing time travel.
hardison doesnt take the bait of the "re-," knowing that that was more a carry over for eliots crusade to pump parker full of conspiracies. instead, he crosses his arms, rolls his eyes. yeah yeah coming here telling me "told ya so?" with your smug ass face.
nah. eliot squeezes hardisons knee. wanna say how proud i am of you, sweetheart.
you had to hint hard at parker over comms there was an issue. more clean up than courage on my part.
ain't no shame in needing help. especially as you take your next steps into some great unknown.
hardison smiles softly. no more chopping lettuce?
well, maybe, maybe not, but only 'cause you graduated pass head chef and have opened your own restaurant. new tricks to learn when it's your own kitchen. you ready for that?
think so. got to be so. hardison places a hand on eliots, thumb rubbing over knuckles. it doesn't escape either of them that this arm is the one that got sliced. for the world. for us.
the final word has an immediate effect on eliot, which he doesn't bother hiding. quivering upper lip, an intensity in the eyes, a flex in his fingers as he rubs up above the joint, to the thigh. when there's no resistance from hardison, eliot pushes their hands up higher. as his fingers rise, he drags the thin sheet off hardisons legs, exposing his boxers. he opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but no words come out. just a supreme sense of tenderness, mourning, and possibility escape in a huff of air.
i meant it, eliot.
i know you did. do. just... their hold breaks as eliot reaches into hardisons boxers. crawling up, but still moving. hardison groans as eliot presses into where he can feel the hidden pulse of a femoral artery. lifeblood, there. life, between them. could've told me earlier, that's a reason why. leaving me slackjawed in front of everybody isn't very kind, man.
through a layer of fabric, hardison guides eliot to where he wants touch most. again he groans as fingers dance through pubic hair, and graze against the velvet of his cock.
maybe, el, im keeping you on... fuck, on your toes. liked hearing it?
their gazes had been locked, the holiest black to vibrant blue. at the question, despite all his training, eliots eyes flicker away. the uncertainty he feels is not a lack of faith, but an overwhelm that must've filled the hearts of the folks who wrote the hymns he heard and sang in church once upon a time. how's one to put words to the glorious feeling of being touched so deep?
well, one solution, the only one eliot has right now, is to touch right back.
liked saying it? eliot redirects, palm rounding heated skin. jerking in short sure strokes.
yeah, man. yeah.
hardison draws eliot closer, leaning in to kiss eliot wet and open. its passionate and familiar, the kindof kiss that spoke of years and years of being in love. they know how to flow, how to breathe, when to bite—hardisons cock fills quickly under eliots attention.
twitches in hardisons hips signal just how turned on he is. just before eliot checks in, hardison pleads, need more, baby.
want my mouth?
please? want it so bad.
eliot shakes his hair pointedly, as he retracts his grip and they both work to take off hardisons boxers. that gorgeous dick and sac make eliots mouth water as he peeks at them.
guide me?
take it, hardison says in a possessive tone that's usually all parker. eliot whines and pushes hardison deeper, swallowing him into his throat, lips pressed into hardisons mound. take it. eliot. take... fuck. don't want you taking my hits, but you'll take this won't you.
a fist grips eliots hair at the roots in answer, and hardison brings him down down down. eliot excitedly draws his husband into his mouth, licking the hardening flesh with a determined hunger. hardison thrusts into eliot, wanting more, so much more, fuck. it's immediately so much more than a quick blow job, though they are moving quickly, eliot pulling his own cock out to pump. there is a fissure of lust cut into them, and they move together, as hardison uses his hold to fuck himself with eliots tongue.
eliot nods as best he can, and even over the messy wet of the oral, they can both hear eliots hand speed up at the rough handling.
you like this? like taking my cock, man? deep breath—hardison pulls eliot off and then holds eliots head down to him, making sure every bit of himself is lodged inside eliot. they both know just how long the man can deep throat, so it's a surprise thirty seconds in, eliot signals to be let go.
hardison starts to check in, but he doesn't get any words out before eliot straddles his thighs and comes onto hardisons cock, sobbing alec as he pulls his orgasm onto hardison, who in turn is whispering desperate encouragements. it's so hot hardison might just come from that, but before the last volley hits hardisons skin, eliot has already slipped down to retake hardisons cock in his mouth, sucking pre and come and sweat off hardison.
hardison can't be blamed for coming at the sight.
in the moments afterward, hardison tries to pull eliot off to give the man a well deserved break, but eliot latches on, resists. laps at hardison.
hardisons eyes go soft and, running his fingers through eliots hair, he whispers. alright, eliot, take it, however much of me you want.
[nsfw, bdsm, pet play, end of life planning, lev:red 3.01-3 spoilers] it has been a long day of planning around possible disruptions to bre's carol plans, but as head of an international group, parker can't sit back on her laurels. the hong kong team had requested parkers insight on physical actual VHS tapes they found in a mark's lock box. while they could figure out the blackmail material each held on most of them, this last video had them stumped.
when she opened the box mailed to her, parker sniffed the tape and was hit with memories of working with archie, of ripping out shiny black ribbon again and again to hide evidence of their pursuits. she doesn't do that now, obviously; she asked bre to lend her a player from the maker's retro tech hoard, and now parker sits in her living room, in her home away from home away from home, watching a bunch of boring dudes talking about laundering money through laundromats.
the HK team's "fast talker" (a forensic linguist with a bone to pick with the judicial system) gave parker a full transcript plus translation and annotations, but nothing indicated why this was kept so secure. hence, parker pushing into the night after a full day of work, on her third rewatch without a sense of why it would be kept.
at her feet, facing towards the tv as well, eliot kneels, naked and bound and oh so handsome.
she rolls her fingers through his curls, which he allowed to go natural since the last con's barrel seller. each stroke, she can smell the lush smell of his favorite conditioner—coconut, honey, a scrape of peony—rises up from each manipulation. she's going to miss it when he straightens it for their bounty hunter. he's been trying not to burn it straight as much anymore, so his hair has been delightfully voluminous, so any reason that is taken away (even for a short while) makes parker clingy.
so, she pets him. plays with his hair. lets clever fingers dance around locks of eliots hair.
to protect his joints, he is on a kneeler, legs tucked under the seat in a seiza posture. his chubbed cock balance between his thighs, balls parker tucked underneath to give pressure. adding to the sensation is eliots undoubtedly ringing frustration by the small size of the plug inside him. his restraints, though they do not disrupt his hips or legs, indicate parker expects eliot to stay where she leaves him. and he's a very good boy, so he stays instead of shaking his ass to try and get the doggy tail plug to even graze his prostate once.
poor puppy.
thinking of the restraints makes parker want to see them. gloat to herself on how pretty she made him.
so, during a few minutes parker knows nothing is going on, she says, eyes on the screen, as she grabs his hair in a ponytail and pushes his to lean forward, curving his back in a similar slope as when he's presenting his hole to her. he is presenting, in a way.
presenting his collar—the D‐ring at the back that is clipped with a short spreader bar that hangs sweetly down his spine, and this is clipped to a large O-ring on his double wrist restraint. two thin chains are also attached to the ring, trailing to either side, curving around his ribs to the butterfly clamps on his nipples. parker hums, satisfied, looking lower and seeing the tuff of fur from eliots cute little tail.
she reaches down with her free hand and rubs her palm against the plug. eliots breathing hitches but he keeps to exactly where parker wants him. his crack is so warm and perfect, and parker wants to lick him.
so she does. she licks his shoulder, then kisses up to behind his ear. parker licks the curve of his ear, and then bites the lobe.
eliot grunts at her in his Why Am I So Turned By This woof.
parker glances at the tv and continues to see the various dudes quietly waiting. turning her attention back to eliot, she pulls his hair back at an angle. into his ear, she purrs, such a pretty boy.
lip twitches show eliots reaction, but he's locked in on obeying her previous order. this moment she wishes she had chosen the girthier plug, so she could properly fuck him with it as a tease. instead, parker settles on pinching his cheeks where the fat dips into the crack. he whines by the third one, and parker just squeezes harder.
she knows she has a limited amount of time until dialogue starts again. she could just keep playing it, but parker's enough of a professional to not let her horniness interfere with the job. she presses stop. eliot shivers knowing her full attention is on him now.
elllllllliot, parker singsongs. she digs her nails into his cheeks and then pulls twin scratches up his back. im thinking doggie needs a treat. she nibbles behind his ear, along his collar. or maybe i do. parker licks the first knob of his spine below his collar, hair swept aside to expose him. parker nibbles then bites harder, locking flesh between teeth and gnawing. she can almost feel the skin get pink and tender under her attention.
tastes so good, she says, moving to another vertebrae. she pulls at the skin and sucks, and parker wants to just gobble him up and—
knife.
parker draws back quickly at the safeword for pause (a knife can go either way, depending). she undoes his wrist restraints without question even though it wasn't required; she just wants him more mobility, in case he needs it. and then she puts her hands on eliots shoulders, trying not to listen to her jackrabbit heart yelling at her to run and escape because she fucked everything up.
what do you need? parker asks, because she's a good dom.
how'd you figure it out?
parker doesn't like this arrangement. she goes to crawl over eliot, so they can face each other, but he shakes his head.
like this? eliot shakes out his hair inviting touch. she decides to leave her hands but try her face, pressing her nose into his hair. he nods before she can confirm he's comfortable. thank you. now what did i figure out? each word produces a kiss to his hair.
the... wolves. being part of the pack after i... eliot huffs like he always does when he's emotionally vulnerable and trying to hide it. i never said anything.
why didn't you?
you had a hard enough time with nate. didn't want to push it. you. but never thought i'd have a choice. would just die like a dog taking on too big of a fight.
parkers stomach hurts hearing eliot talk about himself like that. she clenches her teeth then relaxes them to push out some pressure. in her best silly singsong, she says, sorry but puppies end up dying as some kind of dog. eliot chuckles. gonna take care of you until youre a nice old doggo who lays around all day and wants scritches all the time.
gonna old yeller me? parker makes a confused sound and then eliot rushes in with, don't worry about it. anyway, heard about your plan for robots so thought any other choice was moot.
parker knows he said it offhandedly, but parker still rushes in with, you always have a choice, eliot.
eliot, probably hearing her distress, drags her hands to cross over his collar, so she can properly hug him. he kisses her knuckles as they pass by. thank you, darling.
can i kiss behind your ear again?
yeah go ahead.
its an awkward angle to hold this position, but she's had much worse in vents, and parker likes how close they are. she kisses him as promised, and then she confesses, i did hear your response to head measuring and robot bodies. it didn't sound like you liked it as much. and that made me sad so i ignored it. she was also very jealous of shipp, she can admit to herself now, even knowing objectively eliot just wanted his own mcsweeten.
what changed your mind?
parker squeezes eliot tight. i love you, el. ill miss you but... i want you happy. and you wouldn't want to be totally alone, so...
and that's it?
you got very upset with the wolf poacher, which helped my guess. parker runs her fingers in circles on eliots collarbone. she wants to touch the rest of him, but this is where he left her hands, so this is where she'll stay. parker feels her tone hollowing out as she swallows down emotions. youre such a good boy, and you deserve whatever you want, after years of good service. the best reward for a loyal pup. and? maybe robot hardison and me can watch over your pack forever and ever and—
take my brain.
really?
it's yours. im yours. and... huffy eliot. and maybe your bodies... said you didn't care about 'em. maybe you can—
—be pack with you?! parker hugs him with most of her strength.
fuck, fuck, spoon, eliot moans their go/green word with a suddenness parker nearly jumps at from the tonal shift.
yeah? eliot yanks her hands to his nipple clamps and makes her squeeze them harder and yank on them. so eager!
sorry, darl—fuck! parker twists his tits hard enough she knows it has got to sting and sting bad. eliot just shivers. theres the slight squeak of wood that signals ah, he is working hard not to thrust and is failing. instead he arches back into parker, who takes the opportunity to peek down at his lap.
ohhh, parker laughs, delighted, at eliots red and proud erection between his strong thighs. i didnt notice but did the praise and respect make my puppy all excited? does body autonomy make a puppy very horny? she twists the other way and pulls outward. at eliots whine, she encourages, answer me.
yes, parker, yes, i—
jerk onto the floor. eliots hands fly to obey her order. his talented fingers ring his cock and work quickly over the readied length.
eliots pleasure is a glorious site to witness. his growly panting, his precision with every tug, how he leans back into his and parkers embrace, desperate for any more touch he can steal. parker would have loved to drag this out, but she suspects eliot was hard for more of the conversation than she anticipated. with a perfectly timed nip twist on the clamps to really drive him wild, eliot groans out her name as he comes in a streak across the wood floor.
good boy, parker repeats again and again into eliots ear. sweet boy.
may i? eliot says the second he's done, almost shy with how soft his growl is.
it may sound like a non sequiter, but parker knows her eliot. go ahead. she works with him to shift over the kneeler so he can rock forward in a pushup, knees and calves still tucked into the kneeler. his tail plug wags happily as he gets into position.
and then eliot finds the first pearly white jizz puddle, and he laps at it.
stunning.
absolutely stunning.
eliot is flushed, his cheeks and neck around the collar and ears and shoulders bright red. his pink tongue flicks out with as pretty a color as he chases the taste of his own come with hungry enthusiasm. parker curls up into her seat to watch him find each speckle of his orgasm. he checks her from the corner of his eye, and eliot blushes deeper at her attention.
parker would have never thought she could have this, once. sex, sure. a subby little puppy, maybe. but this kind of peace? this kind of familiarity? the intimacy of trust? love like this?
parker hadn't thought much of eliot when they first met. a buff guy—a skilled hitter—enough of a danger she wouldn't want to fight him off for risk of injury. she would just stay away from him. easy. hardison was immediately more interesting because he was funny and friendly and sweet. but then eliot became eliot, became so much more, as she reached deeper and deeper underneath the exterior that once stupidly bored her, and as eliot let her in and she let him in in return.
she just... had... to go underneath.
huh.
eliot looks over at her, head tilted in interest just like a doggie.
parker should stay in the scene, but she feels her attention split. no, bad. don't abandon eliot. don't—
eliot stops licking (he's mostly done anyway), and presses his forehead to her knee. parker automatically reaches out to pet his hair. y'got your epiphany face on. very distinctive, he says with a smile in his tone.
im taking care of you.
i got my head about me, darling. not too deep. do what you have to.
i love you, parker says jumping up and running over to the VCR. she ejects the tape and looks it over, finding the screws holding it together. she knows that the HK team has long digitized the tape, and sent the physical copy because parker knows enough about tech now to know that for a mystery this deep, you need to start from scratch. so, there's a copy so she could break it open for expedency, but she decides to take the pick out of her sports bra and use the back end to unscrew the VHS.
huh, eliot says from where he's sat on the floor against the couch. y'woulda thought kwok would've looked there before the trouble of mailing it.
they're young and more coder than hacker. this will be their networked hicks, parker says generously as she can finally break open the shell and—bingo. a rolled up sheet of paper.
she shuts the VHS without screwing it closed again and quickly glances at the paper once she unspools it. its got a cypher, but from the formatting it looks like a bill of sale—not her business, but HK's. she takes some photos with her phone and sends it to the team's point person.
hand it here and i could figure it out? eliot offers
not our homework. parker tucks back into the couch, puts aside the paper, and then pats on the seat beside her. and you're busy. up, boy.
eliot smiles softly. you're spoiling me. he crawls onto the couch, lays his head in parkers lap, sinks in as she pets his hair. she doesn't deny it: after all, it's exactly what her puppy deserves.
(really in my feels about the ot3 because of the @powerpolyculeshowdown so here's some propaganda)
parker and hardison allow eliot to be sillier. more ridiculous. outragous, even. eliot sings the stupid ditties hardison writes special for him, and he rolls his eyes at parkers pokes and prods and the occasional "accidental" face slap, and eliot can express himself for what actually bothers him no matter how nitpicky, versus having to calculate what he should say. (he still argues with hardison that throwing in on a brewpub was a stupid plan given its risk, no matter how many times hardison claims it was always a gift for him.) eliot laughs more. real laughs; you can tell because his smiles look more and more like grimaces: the way his ma perked her mouth which his dad always teased her about (though it was his favorite thing about her), rather than the wide toothy grins eliot learned because he knows, tactically, they are best for charming. parker and hardison let him not feel like he's a monster. or... parker tells him she always thought the big bad wolf had a bad rap, and hardison says some stupid shit about monsterfucking being the hip thing the kids are into these days, anyway.
hardison and eliot allow parker to feel deep. it's food that tastes like a hug and it's gadgets made just for her and it's loving and being loved and it's being one another's real families. she doessn't want to run away, anymore. or... she wants to run but with her friends beside her. or... running cons is all she's ever wanted to do, and all she did, for so long. parker is good at it. she loves it. she loves that hardison and eliot love it too. but... feeling deep is also being deep. she's no longer just her piles of money because she is no longer afraid of herself. her past. the memories that hurt. the habits she thought she needed to grow out of but always missed. these habits, like bleeping sounds that arent words and hands move move moving. hands that were once made to stay now can fly because hardison buys her fidgets and designs some just for her and keeps locks in lucille for when parker feels like infinity and needs the vibrations of ticktickticks to bring her back to herself. and eliot lets her braid and unbraid his hair; he won't let her blow dry it, not yet, but... he lets her pet his hair while it's still hot, now. it frizzes his hair a little, and parker feels her pulse rush throughout the day knowing she did that to him. eliot and hardison kiss her knuckles when they burn.
parker and eliot allow hardison to be mean. vindictive. he is nicer than he needs to be. wants to be... what he needs to be is nonthreatening, for the most part, in many places. he knows what it means to be him: tall and black and queer and gaining muscle and too smart for his own damn good and so very, very tenderhearted. hardison loves so damn deep, and he cares so damn much, but part of caring (the other side of a coin) is not giving a fuck. it's the boiling point of rage and betrayal. the i need to walk away from this fight because you are dead wrong and imma about to say something imma regret, so go fix yourself. the im not gonna forget, im not going to forgive, and im going to get my revenge. parker and eliot would not have questioned hardison's joy at securing the capture of the men that put him in that damn coffin; they hold space for him to be fully himself with all his ugly parts and his petty parts and the parts that do bring hardison shame if he thinks about it for too long. they know he's not perfect, and that? that feels like safety and love and forever to hardison.
Notes: rated M one-shot featuring post-canon consensual somnophilia, sleepy groping, and edging.
After a hardwon and exhausting battle, Wyll struggles to stay awake, missing intimacy with his lover. But, as he is reminded with a steady hand, that Astarion can take his pleasure from Wyll whether the man is awake or not.
