You Put the Wow in WoW
Eliot signed off, almost panting as his
screen darkened and faded back to the muted abstract background of his
desktop. He exhaled long and slow, but barely resisted rolling his eyes
as he reached into his boxers and gripped his already-hard cock,
leaning back and stroking himself quickly to a shuddering orgasm as he
imagined a pliant mouth swallowing him down. The young mage who'd been
following him around on the latest phase of his WoW journey put
Literotica to shame like it was just some set of Disney scripts.
Laughing,
Eliot shook his head and wiped his come on the side of his boxers
before wagging a finger at the memory of his on-screen companion.
"You've got a filthy fucking mouth on you."
Six streets east and
seventeen blocks north, Hardison licked his lips and swiped a finger
over a sensor to put his baby to sleep. Then he lay back, thinking
about a wide-shouldered paladin pressing him up against the nearest
tree by their camp and taking out his frustration, marking his
mage's neck with teeth, his hips with bruises, his ass with the ache of
a cock that put some swords to shame. Hardison came rough and hard with
one hand on the toy in his ass and another gripped around his dick.
'Leo' was the name on his lips.
*
The Mountain Dew hadn't
hit Hardison's system yet as he stepped into the elevator and Eliot
didn't look much better, his hair free of tangles but still somehow
unkempt and useless for hiding his why-is-it-morning-already scowl.
Eventually (well, like three seconds later), the silence got to
Hardison and he attempted that thing that Eliot didn't really do
outside of jobs - conversation.
"So ... why are you late?"
"Business to attend to."
"Yeah?
Like ... you stealing something off the grid, man?" Not that Hardison
hadn't thought about it himself, but Eliot didn't seem like the type, a
little too soldierly to have a fun on the side when he was part of the
team.
"No." And ... nothing.
"So what was this business then?"
The
door dinged on the penthouse floor and Eliot exited the elevator,
turning his head back just enough to say, "none of yours," before
heading to the conference room.
Hardison rolled his eyes and
followed after him, knowing he shouldn't care and didn't. Except ...
damnit, now he was curious. It was going to bug him all damn day - and
it did. Nathan and Sophie blathered on about progress on one of the
long-game cases they'd taken on, but there wasn't much for him to do
after that, so ... he did some personal research.
It wasn't like
he hadn't already studied all of his colleagues on some level, their
exploits, their geographic patterns, their records. He'd needed it all
to falsify aliases, new identities, and travel documents, as well as to
ensure proper security measures for each during every case. If he
wanted to know what Eliot was up to more recently, though, he'd have to
follow two sets of aliases - the ones made by Eliot and the ones made
by him - and he'd have to get a sense of which was really Eliot by
cross referencing GPS coordinates, IP addresses, credit card charges,
and cellphone calls. So, finally, after compiling all the data,
Hardison's pretty little Beulah determined that last night, Eliot was
... at home ... on the internet ... connecting to ... the WoW Ainoo
server v.6.0.0.2?
"What?!" He quickly copied the IP address into
his tracing program, intent on finding Eliot's character in the game at
some point or- … Who was he kidding? He'd run the trace as soon as he
got home that night.
*
The elevator ride down at the end
of the day was a fascinating little adventure, despite its slightly
more crowded nature and Hardison's distinct lack of cool where his
games were concerned.
"So ... anyone else play video games?
Like- ..." He halted Nate's speech before he started it. "Real games,
not electronic crossword puzzles or solitaire or whatever."
Parker started to raise a hand, but then withdrew it again, mumbling something about remote-control-nevermind.
"Oooookaaaay." Hardison's eyes flipped back to Eliot, like he hadn’t been staring at him all day. "Eliot?"
"Chess. Some football. Hockey."
Hardison quirked an eyebrow at his distracted friend. "Video games, bruh, as in computer animated and- ..."
"Yeah, that's what I meant." Eliot snapped at him, glaring in challenge.
"Oooookaaaay."
Hardison huffed, his ego a little more bruised than he'd care to admit,
though his words were all his usual sarcasm. "Remind me to never say a
kind word to any of y'all. Like ... ever."
Getting an attitude
seemed to make it easier to not follow Eliot home like a lost dog and
beg him for his stats and the truth about his membership card for the
cult that was WoW. As Hardison logged into the game, his microwave
blistering up a tasty non-nutritious meal item, he could practically
hear his blood rushing through his veins, the pulse in his wrist strong
as he rested it on his contoured mouse pad.
"213.56.159.147
and ... trace." He hit the Enter key and watched one dark window scroll
through hundreds of commands, stringing white text in a dizzying array,
while his second window whirled literally through the levels and zones
and realms of the game, slowly beginning to circle and zoom, again and
again, on a spot near his last campsite in Ashenvale. "Bingo! Gotcha!"
He could feel the stretch in his cheeks as he grinned hard enough to
hurt himself and let the computer ping and orient itself until it could
focus on the traced character, who was distinctly not alone.
"Oh
shit." His smile fell in an instant, his expression spilling into one
of total disbelief, his eyes wide and his eyebrows damn near touching
his hairline. "What the hell?!"
Eliot was playing 'LeoDragonreich'.
For
a moment, Hardison just stared at the screen, dumbfounded and in no
small way embarrassed. It took a while for him to notice that a whisper
message had appeared on his screen.
LeoDragonreich: Hey, are you going to sleep all night or are you going to come to the market with me? We need supplies for the trek over the mountains.
Hardison's mouth went dry, but he tried to keep his game face on and reply like he would any other time.
DradenMorraan: My bundles need restocking and you swashbuckling types never know where to buy the good spell reagents.
He could almost see Eliot's smirk as he read *smirk* in the textbox, Leo striding off, knowing Draden would follow faithfully. Too weird. Except … as the night went on and they continued to play, it didn't feel weird. Leo had never seemed particularly pretentious or heavily padded as a character, his backstory was some simple warrior myths and histories co-mingled. Really, Leo was just an avatar for Eliot or maybe more than that – Leo was an avatar for an Eliot who didn't need to hide his quirks or his silliness or his doubt. Leo was Eliot when he wasn't all me-man-me-smash, not unlike the guy Hardison had glimpsed when they were working that wedding job. Still, why Eliot chose a male companion over a female wasn't quite intuitive. So, Hardison, ever the inquisitor, just … asked.
DradenMorraan (sitting fireside): Do you ever, uhh, miss the fairer sex, friend?
LeoDragonreich (laughing as he tosses in another piece of tinder): I know others of my guild have quite a reputation, but we do need our focus to draw power into our swords. More extravagant companions tend to cause distraction, tension, chaos – for me, at least. … I'd rather have someone who keeps me grounded and satisfied without telling me I'm too focused on the quest.
Women got in the way of the job. Sure, Eliot probably would think that, at least a little, if he was somewhere safe from stilettos.
DradenMorraan (lifting a flask of ale): Here here!
LeoDragonreich (snatching the flask away after Draden has a drink): Hey, isn't that mine?
Hardison grinned again in a way he hadn't since discovering the Leo-Eliot connection.
DradenMorraan: Now now, remember … grounded and satisfied.
Eliot's character grunted, swigging from his flask before tucking it away, but then he was just watching Hardison's character, a look that Hardison knew well enough to understand the flutters in his stomach.
LeoDragonreich: Does that mean I get satisfaction tonight?
DradenMorraan: Depends. Do I?
LeoDragonreich: Of course. … If you're any good.
Hardison's lips slid into their own tilted smirk and he flexed his fingers and shifted his cock. Tonight he had plans to wind up and wind up and wind up, then sign off without letting his companion wind back down again.
*
The next day ran by in a blur until their headquarters' hallways were nearly silent and the sun was setting. There was still one more thing Hardison need to do, though, and he was both dreading it and dying to get to it. It wasn't like he'd never approached a guy before, even if he couldn't count the times that it had been for a con or in a virtual world. He knew that he just had to walk in there while he still had the adrenaline pumping or he'd never follow through.
After pushing open the door to Eliot's office, he closed and surreptitiously locked it behind him, thankful for the highly frosted glass inset in the wood, a little additional privacy even though they were supposed to be alone. All the others had already gone home, largely shooed by Hardison's knowing words and nudging hands.
"Hardison?" Eliot seemed puzzled as he looked up, midway through putting some piece of research away, likely heading home for the night.
"Eliot." He made the name a statement so he remembered that this was not the paladin he'd been sharing a bedroll with in the forests of Ashenvale. He had to act fast or he'd lose all his resolve. Rounding Eliot's desk, he only stopped when he was half an inch from contact with his target.
"Uhh … Hardison?" Eliot wasn't poised for attack or anything, which was probably good, though he didn't really need to poise for much of anything. Still, confusion more than anxiety was the primary emotion in his tone.
"Eliot …" Leaning forward enough to get a grip on the closest arm of the chair and swivel it towards him, Hardison forced Eliot to face him, to watch him as he bent to speak low in his ear. "Do you want satisfaction tonight?"
Before Eliot could find the words to answer, Hardison's hand was already cupping his fly, but with a flash of Eliot's hand Hardison's wrist was gripped and dragged away. Gasping but feeling more challenged than warned, Hardison continued his seductive assault, letting his weight take him to his knees between Eliot's thighs.
"Hardison, what are you doing?" Eliot's voice was threaded with nervousness, something Hardison knew was a damn rare occurrence when it came to Eliot Spencer.
"Showing you that I'm as good as I said I was." Hardison struggled to reach and undo Eliot's belt and fly as Eliot halfheartedly tried to keep him away. Hands at both wrists left his mouth free, a situation distressing (or distracting) enough for Eliot to squeak and let him have a hand back, despite his supposed discomfort with the situation.
"But- …" Eliot was breathing hard when Hardison's lips finally brushed over the cloth of his boxers and he couldn't seem to help bucking up at least a little. "When was that exactly?"
"Last night." Hardison licked a gentle stripe up the underside of Eliot's cock as he wrangled it out of his unruly pants with fingers and mouth. "And who knows how many nights before that."
"Wha- …" Groaning, Eliot started to pump his hips instinctively as Hardison began to swallow his cock, wetting the head thoroughly with his tongue before descending on the rest, feeling and tasting it shift and thicken from something soft and pliable to something rigid enough to make his throat ache on his way to choking.
Hardison welcomed the shudders in his own body as Eliot began to build his own set of quakes, one hand raking through the tight curls of Hardison's hair in order to keep him bobbing right there, opening his throat like that, swallowing down every thrust and shiver and jerk until Eliot's moans tumbled into shouts and he came, thick strings of warmth running down the back of Hardison's throat to the tune of Eliot's low primal growl, like the purr of a wild cat.
Finally letting Hardison disengage from his cock, Eliot sighed, letting out tension that seemed to have been locked into his body for years. Hardison looked up at him, a wary expression settling in as he tried not gasp for air, biting his lip and blinking uncertain eyes.
"You wanna explain that to me again?"
Swallowing, Hardison nodded, his gaze shifting away from contact with a blissed-out version of Eliot’s slightly narrowed 'interrogation' eyes. "Umm … hi? I'm not Draden Morraan, but I play one on my computer?" His eyes found Eliot's again. "I swear, I didn't know Leo was you until yesterday."
Eliot just stared at him a long moment, the neutrality of his face never shifting, but then he laughed, eyebrows tilting inward with a shake of his head. "Seriously? You're not serious."
Hardison let himself smile that I-have-no-fucking-clue-how-the-universe-works smile and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I know. That's what I said."
"That's crazy."
"But true, man. But true."
Suddenly Eliot stopped laughing, his amused smile sliding into a slightly darker smirk. "You said you were good at a few other things too."
"Uh huh." Hardison felt his breath quicken again. "You too."
Eliot's smirk deepened enough to make electricity shiver down Hardison's back. "Let's skip the game tonight, alright?"
"Okay."
His reply was a little shaky but present and he tried not to spill in his pants when Eliot grabbed a wrist with one hand and the back of his neck with the other, dragging him up and into a kiss that threatened to break and enthrall him all at once. Almost in a blink, the trees in Hardison's fantasies became wood desks and leather chairs, painted walls and slick windows that overlooked the city. Eliot made him forget why a world of avatars seemed so vibrant and addictive and by night's end all Hardison wanted more of was a flesh-and-blood warrior who knew 'Alec' was the name he wanted to hear.
~~~~~~~~ Back to Leverage ~~~~~~~~
