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anything you can give

Chapter Text

"Man, you don't gotta do this every time," Hardison complained. Eliot could hear him scooping ice out of the brewpub's ice machine through their coms. Nate and Sophie had hardly more than offered suggestions on this job, and were already off. Eliot and Hardison were only still wearing theirs because Parker's chosen route home to the brewpub involved a lot of free-climbing and celebratory jumping off buildings, if the grunts of effort and occasional happy squeal were anything to go by.

Hardison was still talking, as he pushed into the back room with a freshly filled ice pack. "We got backup plans. We got backup plans for the backup plans. You just say 'there are more guards than we planned for' and we go to the plan that plans for that! You don't have to--"

"Yeah, I kinda do," Eliot interrupted, grabbing the ice pack from Hardison's hand and pressing it to the achiest bruise on his torso. Once that one numbed, he had one on his shoulder and another on his cheek that needed the ice next. He'd get them all on rotation with the ice, and it wouldn't be too bad. He grabbed the tape back up to finish wrapping his split knuckles, ignoring Hardison's face, which was doing the hurt 'I don't understand' thing. It wasn't as bad as Parker's version, at least. Easier to ignore. Or, you know, possible to ignore.

"Why?" Parker asked, breathless over the coms.

"Yeah, why?" Hardison echoed. "Is this some macho thing? Letting yourself get beat up to prove something? 'Cause we already know you the badassest of the badass."

"Damnit Hardison," Eliot snarled, tossing the tape down. "This ain't about me. Taking them on is my job. Giving the two of you all the time you needed was the least risk. And it worked." They'd gotten in and out with the files they needed, and broken the reputation of a very nasty person. Everything had gone perfectly, and it wouldn't have gone nearly as well if Eliot hadn't done his damn job.

Hardison couldn't just let it go, though. His expression set mulishly. "You didn't have to get hurt."

"I can take it!" Eliot tossed his hair back to glare Hardison down harder, not that even the best glare had phased Hardison in years. And that was the beauty of it, and a good part of the problem. "I can't take..." He cut himself off, shaking his head.

Once he would have gone directly to his own place to patch himself up after a job, avoided the rest of the team until the worst of it was over. He'd gotten used to being here for it, though. He'd gotten used to people keeping his ice pack topped off, to Parker poking his bruises, to being part of a team as they unwound; picked apart their last job and planned for their next together. He'd gotten used to feeding the team when he felt the itch, or eating the brewpub's leftovers, or just sitting back and enjoying whatever takeout Sophie conned restaurants who didn't even do takeout into bringing them.

He probably shouldn't have, if it came to this. Eliot stood to leave, get out and go to his own place to clear his head, but Hardison blocked him as though he had a chance of stopping Eliot from doing whatever the hell he wanted to do. Only it did stop him. Hardison's arm across his body, hand warm on his chest, anchored Eliot in place how no actual barrier ever could.

Hardison's brow was furrowed, those deep brown eyes peering into Eliot like he was one of his computers – just a tricky bit of code he could crack open if he tried hard enough. "You can't take what?" he asked. "What can't the great Eliot Spencer take?"

Oh, Hardison needed it said now? Right now? After everything? After all Eliot had done to make sure neither of them ever had to question it? Eliot shoved him off, growling. No one in their right mind pushed Eliot, but 'in their right mind' never had described anyone in the team, had it? Hardison was still watching him like he expected an answer, and it snarled its way right out of Eliot's mouth. If Hardison liked words so much, he could have some.

"I can't take the risk of you gettin' hurt! Either of you." Eliot was more than aware that he was talking to both of them, with Parker's sharp inhalation over the coms, even though he was only seeing the surprise on Hardison's face. "I'll take the beatings and bullets and knives. I'll take any punishment anyone can dish out. I'll take on anyone and anything for you. I'll be your hitter, your attack dog, if that's all you need me for. I'll take anything either one of you can give me, even if it's nothing. I'll back off if you want, but I'll never leave you unprotected. I ain't putting the people I love in unnecessary danger."

"I..." Hardison was momentarily speechless, mouth falling open as he drew back from the vengeance of Eliot's tirade. Eliot grabbed him by a fistful of his shirt collar, dragged him in close so he'd have to see the truth of it deep in his eyes.

"I ain't gonna walk away when you need me."

Eliot shoved him away, and Hardison went like a ragdoll. Still speechless, and not looking happy. That wasn't unexpected. Eliot hadn't even let himself imagine Parker or Hardison welcoming the confession, in the unlikely scenarios he'd imagined actually telling them.

"Hardison?" Parker's voice was shaky on the other end of the coms. Scared. The faint sound of footfalls and huffed breath betrayed that Parker was sprinting. "Eliot? We need--"

Whatever Parker said next, Eliot never heard. He ripped his earpiece out, throwing it into Hardison's chest as he finally did what he should have in the first place and escaped to his truck and then his own place. Hardison didn't try to stop him; and neither of them called him, or texted him, or broke into his apartment to annoy him.

He was left alone until he chose to come back.

Chapter Text

It changed things.

Of course telling them changed things, which is why Eliot hadn't planned on telling them. It didn't change things as much as he'd allowed for in his worst contingency plans. Hardison didn't go all 'jealous boyfriend' and try to keep Parker away from him, or have any kind of gay panic. Not that Eliot had expected that of him, Hardison didn't have a 'phobic bone in his body. They weren't acting betrayed, which had been the biggest worry.

He wasn't trying to break them up, to take anything from either of them. Maybe he'd done at least a little of his job right if they understood that much.

At first the change was that they watched him more. Hardison tried to be stealthy about it, at least. Parker didn't. Parker stared, watching him as though he was a safe to be cracked. While eating, while planning a job, while hanging from the ceiling while he watched hockey on Hardison's projector.

Parker didn't stop poking at his bruises, and Hardison didn't stop going for a fist bump if something went particularly well, or leave him hanging when Eliot went for one. Parker still sparred with him, same as ever. He still had their friendship, but occasionally he caught them whispering frantically to each other, and then stopping when they noticed him noticing. Hardison looked guilty about it and tried to pretend he'd been working on something else, awkwardly. Parker didn't bother.

"No unilateral decisions," Parker decided, after Eliot had ignored the staring for a good half hour. He glanced up from his latest test of a dish for the brewpub, let Parker know he was listening, and Parker continued. "That's not how a team works. We trust you, but you have to trust us too. We make decisions as a team. Together. No risks without telling us." It sounded rehearsed. Parker probably had rehearsed it over and over until the words came out right.

"Fine," Eliot said. "Now get out of the way, I need the brown sugar." It was good to hear, in as many words, that they still trusted him. It wasn't like he couldn't tell, but it was still good. That was the best possible outcome from his outburst. They were accepting it and moving on. Good.

Parker patted Eliot on the shoulder, stole a slice of peach, and left.

The team didn't change. There was another job, small change but good for practice with Nate easing into a more hands-off approach. Parker was done up all girly, on the grift with Sophie on coms as backup though Parker rarely needed it anymore. Hardison and Eliot were in the back of Lucille, watching the monitors and waiting for their cues.

Hardison glanced at Eliot out of the corner of his eye three times before he removed his earpiece, giving him a look that could only mean he expected Eliot to do the same. Apparently Parker's piece wasn't the only thing they needed to say. Time to face the music. Eliot took his earpiece out too.

"So when you said you loved us, did you mean like--" Hardison started, voice quick and nervous and his eyes trained on the monitors. Watching the screens for any sign of trouble while they were cut off from the team's audio.

"I meant exactly what someone usually means when they say they're in love with someone." Eliot cut him off, and deliberately put his earpiece back in to signal the end of the conversation.

"Ok," Hardison said. "Ok. Ok? Ooook." Each repetition at a different pitch. Eliot shook his head and pushed out the back of the van to take a quick patrol around the building. There was nothing he could see from there he couldn't see from the van, but at least he wasn't penned in with Hardison's nerves and the smell of orange soda.

The job went well enough, and Eliot was there to bust heads when the mark overreacted and Parker needed a distraction to get out. When they all got home he took over the brewpub's closed kitchen and made a batch of pasta carbonara with sun-ripened cherry tomatoes to garnish the plates, the sweet acidity of the tomatoes just right to complement the richness of the guanciale and pecorino and eggs.

Parker poked at his bruises, finding ones even he hadn't realized where there with laser focus; and actually tasted the food with eyes squeezing closed and a happy hum.

"You are some kind of a pastamancer. A sauce-cerer," Hardison said. "Did you put crack in these noodles because they should be illegal."

"That's the taste of actual food," Eliot growled. "I'm surprised you can even taste it, with all the chemicals you pour on your tongue."

"This is as good as the best you could get in Italy," Sophie complemented, turning to Nate to reminisce about some place he'd chased her there – over the top of Hardison's protests that orange soda was not chemicals, it was pure glucose brain fuel.

This was Eliot's family. These the people he loved and took care of, and he hadn't lost that. It hadn't changed all that much, even if Hardison did glance over at him a few times as they ate, his arm coming around the back of Parker's chair to hold Parker closer as he did. He couldn't have telegraphed his thoughts louder if he'd tried, but Sophie was too busy flirt/teasing with Nate to notice. Or maybe she'd just decided it was something they had to figure out on their own.

There wasn't anything to figure out. Eliot wasn't going to ruin anything. It wasn't like him being in love with Hardison and Parker was a new thing.

A week later, after Eliot vetted the latest cook and made sure she knew the kind of quality he expected of the brewpub kitchen, Hardison ambushed him in the back room. Hardison and Parker both – Parker was just up in the rafters and took a milisecond longer to notice. There was nothing this could be but an ambush, with the way Hardison was shifting on his feet, arms crossed in front of himself. Waiting for Eliot to finish in the kitchen and come into the back.

Eliot did consider turning around and going home, but only for an instant. Instead he went for a bottle of Hardison's latest brew, which was pretty good. Not that he would admit that under any torture.

He took a drink and lifted his eyebrows at Hardison, when it didn't seem that Hardison was going to start whatever spiel he'd prepared.

"Parker and I are married," Hardison said. Eliot nearly coughed beer everywhere, and put the bottle down. That he had not expected. They'd gotten married without telling anyone? Not even the team?

"Three times!" Parker piped up.

"Three of our aliases." Hardison clicked his remote, and the projector showed the pair of them in ceremonies and at places they had definitely never been to. Eliot would have heard of it. "Costa Rica vacation wedding." This one was casual, both of them dressed like tacky tourists. "Classy New York wedding." They were both in tuxes for that one. "And the Paris fairy princess wedding." Eliot snorted at the massive fluffy dress Parker was wearing for that one. Hardison had obviously had a hayday with his computer programs, making them be where they'd never been. This was just con stuff. Aliases.

"So if either of us gets..." Hardison waved his hand vaguely. "If something happens..."

"If one of us is dying in the hospital or something the other one can't be kept out," Parker broke in. Parker was currently hanging by one ankle, grinning upside down at them both.

"That's good for you," Eliot said, not sure what this had to do with him.

"So we have plans," Hardison said, shifting his weight nervously again. "And once we were done freaking out – sorry for freaking out on you at first, but we're cool now – we thought. We figured. We should probably ask if you're cool with it before we add you in? You in? You cool with that?" He clicked his remote again, and two new wedding pictures showed up on the projector. Eliot with Hardison. Eliot with Parker.

"This is real," Parker said, now tying a complex series of ropes, before Eliot could answer.

"Yes!" Hardison agreed. "This is real. These aliases are rock-solid. Bombproof. These marriages, they're as real as swearing in front of God and family. And you don't gotta, but we do want you in. All the way." His eyes begged. "There's no one we'd trust more to be making the calls if we got hurt."

"You're our Eliot," Parker said. "You've always been in here with us."

"You're more than just our hitter," Hardison agreed, rushing on before Eliot could even get his breath. "You're more than just a member of the team. You're our family. You're right here in the middle of our relationship and we don't want you out of it. We don't work without you, and we wouldn't want to."

"You helped me feel things," Parker said.

"And you make sure Parker and I are communicating ourselves," Hardison agreed. "So do you want in?"

"No you have to say it right!" Parker interrupted again. The ropes whirred overhead, and Parker dropped neatly from the ceiling in front of Eliot, all the way down to one knee in front of him. Parker took both his hands, gazing up at him with wide blue eyes. "You say, 'Eliot Spencer, we realized we love you too. Will you marry us?' Like that."

They both looked at him expectantly, finally a space to breathe between their words.

"Up," Eliot said, tugging on Parker's hands. He ignored the flicker of pain across Parker's face before a blank mask popped down on top of it. Parker climbed the ropes to sit on the counter.

"Hey, there's no pressure," Hardison said. "Noooo pressure. If this is too much we can pretend it never happened. Have a beer, maybe some popcorn, watch some MMA or hockey or something. It's ok. You're already step brother, adopted brother, half brother, in our other aliases. You won't be left out in the cold either way but--"

"Hardison." Eliot grabbed his shoulder. He could feel the tension in his body, he was practically vibrating with it. "Shut up." He looked back and forth between them, trying to come up with something, anything to say. "Are you sure?" he finally managed.

"Oh hell yeah!" Hardison said. "We talked about this for ages. Baby tell the man how much we talked about marrying him."

"You don't con your own crew," Parker said Eliot's own words back to him, pouting. "We aren't lying to you."

"Ok," Eliot said. "Ok." He hadn't planned this eventuality, not in his rosiest daydreams before he cut them down to size, forced them into more reasonable shapes. But 'reasonable' never had described anyone on the Leverage crew, had it? Of course Hardison and Parker would go about it all backwards, start a relationship with him with the marriage proposal.

But that wasn't really right. He'd been neck-deep with them for years. This was already a closer relationship than any he'd had in... in a lifetime.

"I can't promise exclusivity," Eliot told them. "I just ain't built that way. I can't promise that to any one person. Or any two. I'll have others."

"That's ok. I like sex with cute girls too," Parker said, spider-climbing up the rope. And that... that was definitely a thought that would be haunting the sexier parts of Eliot's brain for a while.

"I won't sleep in the same bed with anyone," Eliot told them. He woke up in the middle of killing someone, real or imaginary, way too often to risk that. He wouldn't forgive himself if he woke up throttling Hardison or punching Parker. He wouldn't put them in danger, even from himself.

"Ok," Parker said, dangling upside down at eye level to him. "But will you marry us?"

Eliot tossed his hair back, looking back and forth between them. There it was again, that offer of everything he wanted and hadn't thought he could have. The pictures were still on the projector, him with the two of them. "Yeah." It was the only answer he was ever going to be able to give them. His voice came out rougher than he meant, and his eyes were not at all close to watering. Not even a little. "Of course I'll marry you. Can I get a kiss first?"

"Yay!" Parker crowed, clapping. "Kiss the groom! Kiss, kiss, kiss!"

"If you want..." Hardison swayed closer, half smile a little shy with his lashes falling over his eyes, as if he was almost afraid Eliot didn't want him. Eliot grabbed him by the back of the head, dragged him down hard and then gently, gently, pressed their mouths together. Hardison moaned, his lips soft and as sweet as his god-awful orange soda. His hands flailed for a moment before they settled on Eliot's body, holding him close. It wasn't a long kiss, not all that involved, but they were both breathing harder when they broke apart.

"Ok thats... you're... wow." Hardison was completely robbed of coherent speech, and Eliot snorted a laugh as he turned to Parker, still upside down.

"And you too, darlin'?" he asked.

"Yes to kissing," Parker said, after a moment's thought. "But if you try anything else I might punch you in the throat."

"Parker's kind of a minefield," Hardison said. As though Eliot didn't already know that. As though he wasn't even more of one himself.

"Ain't we all," Eliot answered. Parker reached for his shoulders, pulled him close for the sweetest of spiderman-kisses. It was a very different kiss from Hardison's. Parker's mouth was so much smaller, and Parker was fond of biting. Eliot groaned at the sharp nip to his bottom lip, shivering with Parker's little snarl.

"Ooh, I told you Eliot would have a good mouth," Parker said, when they broke apart, and then proceeded to climb back up to the rafters.

Hardison just laughed, his love shining out of his face as he watched Parker climb back up. It didn't dim in the slightest when he looked back down to Eliot. He slung an arm around Eliot's shoulders and began typing one-handed. "Alright, weddings time! You and Parker were married in Montreal, Nepal, and good ol' Kentucky. Look you even have racehorses! And you and me, we got married in Boston, Amsterdam, and Las Vegas!"

Eliot hadn't done a green screen photoshoot the way he'd imagined the two of them did for their own 'wedding' pictures. Hardison must have taken stills from surveillance footage and used his photomanipulation magic to put Eliot into half a dozen different lives. Here he was, marrying the people he loved, living the kind of happy domestic lives he'd once thought he'd have. He'd once wanted.

This, though? This off-kilter crew that counterbalanced his own off-kilter self – that made him, if not good, at least less bad of a man – was a thousand times better.

"Is that... Hardison!" Eliot pointed. "I am not kissing a random drag queen at our Vegas wedding!"

"Of course not," Hardison said, laughing as he clicked and made even more of the Vegas pictures show up. "But Randy here? He had a wild wedding weekend!"

"I think she's a very pretty drag queen!" Parker protested. "I love her sequins. You should be proud she kissed you!"

"Yeah but that's... that's not the point!" Eliot protested.

"I dress in drag sometimes!" Parker said. "Boy drag. Girl drag."

"Still not the point," Eliot said. "Drag queens are great performers, but I'm not kissing one at my wedding!"

"Don't worry, I got in on it too." Hardison flipped to a selfie where they were making duckfaces to either side of the cute drag queen. Eliot did not want to know how Hardison had made his face look like that. It was just disturbing, is what it was.

"Fine," Eliot threw his hands up and picked his long-neglected beer back up. "Fine, you and 'Randy' had a Vegas thrill. What am I going to do with the pair of you."

"Keep loving us, hopefully!" Hardison said.

Parker dropped onto his back, he'd caught the motion just in time and braced himself so he didn't stumble. Parker abandoned the ropes to cling to him like a spidermonkey, face nuzzling into his hair with a deep sniff. "Mmm, you're just going to be our Eliot. That's all you have to do."

"I can't help that," Eliot admitted. There was nothing he could do to fight it.

"Bleh, enough talking. He married us already." Parker decreed. "Hardison, put on that MMA you got a feed of in case Eliot was freaked out. And get us popcorn. We're going to cuddle on the couch!" Parker bounced on Eliot's back, like a little giddyup, but rather than tossing Parker off he carried Parker and his beer to the couch.

The MMA was an amateur league, but the fighters were well trained and the filming wasn't bad. Parker cuddled onto Eliot's side like an octopus, sniffing his hair again.

"Hurry up, Hardison!" Parker shouted, only mostly into Eliot's ear. "Eliot smells good, I want to cuddle him together."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Hardison said, putting the crime against nature that was popcorn-in-a-tin in Eliot's lap and snuggling against his other side.

"I like how solid Eliot is," Parker said, petting his chest. "And warm."

"Yeah baby, he's awesome," Hardison agreed.

"Eliot is right here, and can hear you," Eliot pointed out.

"And that's how we like it," Hardison said. His hand followed Parker's arm, petting them both as they circled around Eliot. Hemming him in.

"I'm going to need personal space sometimes," Eliot pointed out, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Most of the time."

"We know." Hardison backed off slightly. He rested his hand on the back of Eliot's neck, warm and affectionate, lightly playing with the ends of his hair. "Let us know when you need us to back off, and we will."

That simple. That easy. Eliot had seen Hardison's patience with Parker from close enough to know that he meant it. A word was all it would take, and that made it so much easier.

He was held, but he was not restrained.

"I will," Eliot said. He would have to shove them away to get some breathing room in a bit, but not yet. For now, he could rest one hand on Hardison's thigh, the other arm around Parker's slender shoulders, and watch athletes beat the crap out of each other with the people he loved.

The people who loved him.

Chapter Text

They were supposed to be heading for their next job. Hardison had found it for them, a Prime Minister whose illicit diamonds needed liberation to pay for the orphanages he refused to fund. He'd 'hidden' the diamonds in DC, just a short flight from Portland away. There was a Karensky 217 vault with two armed guards, they could break into in their sleep. No con, no grift; just the best hitter, hacker, and thief in the world doing what they did. It was the perfect job for just the three of them, getting out of Nate and Sophie's hair, and more importantly getting Nate and Sophie out of their hair.

"This job can be our honeymoon!" Parker crowed. "What? Stealing diamonds is romantic, Sophie said so!"

There was no arguing with that. Eliot and Hardison just looked at each other, Eliot shrugged, and they were off. Eliot had been occasionally indulging his desire to push Hardison back against walls and shutting him up with a tongue down his throat, and Parker had kissed Eliot a few times too in addition to using him as a piece of climbing equipment more frequently, but they really hadn't gotten up to much as 'married people'. Not yet. Getting away from the office might help, even if they were still going to be on the job.

It was a sign of how much he trusted Hardison and Parker that Eliot didn't even look at his tickets until they were through security at the airport and waiting to board. He had a two-night layover in, of all places, Las Vegas. That wasn't like Hardison's usual quick and efficient planning. Eliot grabbed Hardison's ticket, ignoring Hardison's protest, to see that he had the same layover. At least Eliot wasn't being shuttled off out of their way. They were going together.

"Why do we have layovers in Vegas?" Eliot demanded.

"Honeymoon, duh," Parker said. "Oh, they're calling our flight!" Parker danced off to board, leaving Eliot and Hardison to follow. At least they all packed light.

"No unilateral decisions?" Eliot said, smiling extra big and bright. "We decide things as a team? Love how that's working out."

"Look, man, Parker wanted a honeymoon," Hardison defended. "Are you capable of breaking Parker's heart? Because I can't do that. When Parker does that face thing I am done. Game over."

Eliot shook his head and sighed. "Parker gets what Parker wants." As far as relationship dynamics went, there could be worse.

"That's my life!" Hardison grinned, then paused. "Our lives. Yeah. Mi casa, su casa. You're going to like the place I got us," Hardison promised. "Infinity pool, hot tub, world class catering if we want it, stocked bar and kitchen, the works. Two bedrooms."

Two bedrooms. Hardison had remembered that Eliot wasn't going to sleep with anybody, but of course he had. He was Hardison. He always made sure the team had what they needed. Eliot stowed his carryon and settled into his comfortable first-class seat.

At least the flight was a short one. Eliot flirted with the flight attendant – just a tiny bit, she was working after all and he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Across the aisle from him, Parker was attempting to flirt around Hardison at him. Or Eliot assumed Parker was trying to flirt. The hand signs Parker was trying to flash him were too complex and unfamiliar. Eliot was only sure they were intended to be suggestive because of how Hardison reacted to them; grabbing Parker's hands before anyone else could see and hissing 'stop' while Parker giggled.

It was entertaining enough, even before Hardison got in on it by looking Eliot dead in the eye and sucking his fingers clean from his in-flight snack. So maybe a honeymoon didn't actually sound all that bad, even if Las Vegas was a thin veneer of glam pasted over a pit of misery. The chance of winning it big luring people in to suck them dry.

The flight went fast, and soon they were on the ground in Nevada. Hardison had rented them a classic mustang, and tossed Eliot the keys for it. He was on his laptop the entire drive, checking on the security of their place, but the looks he was throwing Eliot as he drove were searing hot. It set something burning low in Eliot's gut.

"Home sweet penthouse!" Hardison held his arms out wide, introducing the space. And it was spacious, with a big open floor plan. The luxury of the places Hardison went for always managed to surprise Eliot. "I call the master bedroom, the other one has east-facing windows and I need my morning beauty sleep."

Eliot walked the perimeter, noticing the security and the sight lines. It was a decent enough place; safe since they didn't have anyone specific on their trail at the moment. He tossed his bag on the king-sized bed in the second bedroom and returned to the main room.

"I gotta warn you, Eliot," Hardison said, returning from dropping off his own. "I want all the sex with you. So if that's not cool you just say so and I will keep my horny ass all to myself--"

Hardison was more than capable of talking on into infinity, so Eliot pulled him down to kiss him. He loved how pliable Hardison got when he was kissed, just melted and moaned and gave way.

He had his arms full of practically-purring hacker when he finally broke away for air. "I want that," he promised.

"I don't want to have all the sex with you," Parker said, "but I would like to have some of the sex with you."

"Anything you want," Eliot promised Parker, and meant it with all his heart. "You been with many men?" he asked Hardison, who was now dry-humping him with his hands getting everywhere. It was very, very nice. Eliot had a good handful of ass himself, his other hand wandering up underneath Hardison's shirt to admire the soft skin of his back.

"Not really," Hardison admitted, "but... but Parker..."

"I have dildos!" Parker held a pair of bright-colored dildos aloft. They must have come in the carryon baggage. That had been xrayed and inspected. All the TSA agents must have seen them and known exactly what they were, but clearly that didn't matter to Parker. "Hardison fucks easy if you want to top him. You should top him. He gets all squirmy-beautiful, it's awesome."

"Parker!" Hardison whined. Eliot could feel the heat of a blush in Hardison's face where he pushed it against his neck.

"You two have fun. I'm going out to see the shows!" Parker put the dildos back and began tucking all that long blond hair into a black beanie, dressed for work.

"Stealing some good tickets?" Eliot asked, lipping at Hardison's neck to distract him from his embarrassment.

"Tickets." Parker snorted a laugh, pulling a rope out of the carryon. "Everyone knows the best seat in the house is in the rigging above the stage! Bye!"

Parker's fingers skated into Eliot's pocket for the car keys almost too light to feel – and that only because Parker wanted him to know. Parker sailed out the door, throwing one last wink behind, and Eliot and Hardison were alone.

The appropriate course of action seemed to be to back Hardison onto the master bed and strip the clothes off his body. Hardison did not seem to have any objections to that plan. Hardison's shirt ended up on the couch, Eliot's in the bedroom doorway, their shoes leading in a trail to the bed. Hardison was taller than most of Eliot's partners, but that just meant his center of gravity was higher. He tipped easily onto the bed, and Eliot followed to pin him to it. Not a real pin, a grappling move – Hardison wasn't fond of those at the best of times – just weight and leverage holding him down.

Hardison whined and squirmed beneath him, miles of deep brown skin searing-hot against his own. Eliot abandoned tongue-fucking Hardison's mouth to suck his way down his neck instead. It took him a while to realize that the sounds Hardison was making were starting to be words.

"This is happening. Really happening. Wow. You're so hot it is not fair, oh yeah. Oh yeah baby."

Eliot bit down on Hardison's pec, fighting the urge to laugh, and Hardison yelped. It didn't keep him quiet long, though, not with Eliot reaching down to palm his dick through his pants.

"Hello there, yes," Hardison panted. "Do you want to fuck? I want to be fucked. There's lube. Your latest test came back clear, you always get tested every six months. I tested negative. Don't need condoms do we?"

Eliot sat up fast, hand on Hardison's chest to keep him still. Hardison gasped up at him. He must be out of his mind with hornyness, or he'd have thought what he was saying through. Eliot couldn't really be surprised that Hardison would know his test results already, even though he never went to the same clinic or used the same name twice and always paid in cash. Privacy just didn't exist in a life that included Alec Hardison, but that wasn't the point.

"Condoms are non-negotiable," Eliot said. "People bleed on me all the time." It was a massive disease vector, and he saw in Hardison's widened eyes that he'd remembered that sex wasn't the only way to catch HIV or any number of other horrors. Risking his own body was easy, so easy, but Eliot wouldn't risk Hardison or through him Parker. It was not an option. "Condoms, or the pants stay on." Eliot couldn't get enough stimulation to come that way, but he was pretty sure he could get Hardison off, with how well he was reacting to everything.

"All right. Condoms." Hardison pointed to Parker's bag. "In there with the lube." He shucked out of his pants and boxers while Eliot went for it. There was climbing gear, Parker's neon dildos, and down in the bottom a box of condoms and a bottle of lube. Simple stuff, but good quality.

"How did we get a bottle of liquid this big onto the plane?" Eliot asked.

"Parker magic. Don't question it." Hardison made a give-me gesture, and Eliot tossed the bottle to him. Hardison immediately squirted a bunch onto his fingers and reached between his legs. No wasted time. Eliot dropped his own jeans to the floor and rolled a condom on. Hardison tried to tackle Eliot to the bed the moment he was in reach, but Eliot rolled them through to pin Hardison beneath him instead. He pulled one Hardison's legs up over his shoulder to open him up.

"Yeah, come on," Hardison urged, rolling his hips into Eliot, before Eliot could ask if this was good. A little of the lube on his own dick, and Eliot was pushing deep into the heat and tightness of Hardison's ass. He really did fuck easy, like Parker said. There was no need to go slow, to ease him into it. Zero to sixty. Everything at once. Skin and sweat and kisses deep as drowning.

They wrestled back and forth, nowhere close to real fighting but damn fun. Hardison was strong, even if he was never going to be as strong as Eliot was, and that always felt good. Hardison got an arm between them to stroke himself off when they were getting close, clenching down hard on Eliot's dick. Eliot finished first, pulled over the edge by Hardison grinding onto him, Hardison's gasp of his name, but he pushed in deep and held on through the overstimulation for the minute Hardison needed to follow him.

Eliot pulled out carefully, hand clenched tight around the base of the condom, and collapsed beside Hardison. Hardison sprawled out on the bed, gleaming with sweat and practically glowing.

"Yeah, baby." Hardison crooned. "Now that's what I'm talking about."

"You're beautiful," Eliot said, because sometimes he forgot not to talk right after sex. Especially if it was really good. Some guys would have taken offense at that, but Hardison just laughed.

"Don't I know it." He grinned up at the ceiling for a bit, then rolled over to fling his arm across Eliot's chest. "I must be pretty, if I got the best thief and hitter alive to marry me three times. That's three times more than most people get married."

"Six," Eliot corrected. "Three times each."

"Mm, math," Hardison agreed. "I'm so damn lucky."

They lay like that for a few minutes, with the sweat cooling off their bodies and Hardison's long clever fingers tracing nonsense across Eliot's chest and shoulder. It was comfortable, but the condom was starting to feel gross. Eliot heaved himself to his feet and went to clean himself up in the oversized bathroom. At least there was a separate 'half bath' closer to his own bedroom that he could use if he wanted to take an actual shower. Who wanted a bathroom the size of some houses, entirely tiled in mirrors?

Hardison had cleaned himself up by the time Eliot got back. He was laying on his belly, typing away on his laptop. He held a hand out without looking, reaching for Eliot to welcome him back, and Eliot went. He idly stroked the small of Hardison's back, squeezed his ass, stroked him from his shoulders to his knees and just admired him for a little while. Hardison made small appreciative noises, but his focus was on the computer. Post-coital hacking, Eliot should have expected it of him.

Eliot left him muttering something about hacking the bank of Norway, and put some pants on to inspect the kitchen. It was one of those big fancy kitchens people who never actually cooked tended to have built, but at least it had been stocked by someone who knew how to cook. There was food and ingredients, as well as an entire shelf of the fridge being filled with orange soda. Eliot made himself a mint lemonade and went to sit on the balcony beside the infinity pool.

Portland was nice, the food scene was good and he got to be close to Toby and his culinary institute, but they just didn't have sun like this. Evening was setting in, a nice breeze blowing through, and Eliot enjoyed it.

Speaking of Toby... his students ended up everywhere. A hub like Las Vegas must have at least one of his chefs. Eliot pulled out his phone and began looking. When Parker came back, hours after sunset, Eliot took both Parker and Hardison out to a late dinner. The food was good, and the chef, Mindy, came out to visit when she heard that Eliot was another of Toby's students. They shared stories about Toby, his teaching style, the way he could pull out the passion in anyone. You couldn't go through Toby's school without walking out the other side changed. Better.

Mindy was cute, and there was an openness in the way she leaned toward Eliot that said she wouldn't mind getting to know him a little better. Eliot might have gone for that, but he glanced over to where Parker and Hardison were holding hands, their fingers intertwined on the table, and reached toward them instead. Not so much they had to respond, but Hardison reached back to hold his hand too. The three of them, connected.

Mindy's smile widened, taking that in. She had to go back to close up the kitchen for the night, and Eliot made sure to leave a big cash tip since the other two had no concept of service-industry life.

"You could have gone with her," Parker said as they left. "She was nice. Her food had feelings."

"Yeah," Eliot agreed, "but I ain't having sex with someone else on my honeymoon."

Parker grinned, eyes warming, as if he was a double-handful of unregistered diamonds. Eliot drove again, with Hardison taking shotgun. Parker leaned up from the back seat, arms coming around Eliot, breath warm against his ear.

"Parker," Eliot warned.

"Eliot," Parker mimicked, the t clicking out sharp at the end. Then Parker's tongue slid, slick and warm, all the way up his ear.

"I'm trying to drive," Eliot growled.

"I believe in you," Parker whispered, teeth grazing his ear, and Eliot couldn't suppress his full-body shudder. He resigned himself to being teased the rest of the way to the penthouse. Nothing short of shoving Parker away was going to put and end to it, and he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"That's hot," Hardison said. "You should see how red he's going, baby."

"I can see him in the mirror," Parker murmured. "You have nice ears. Poor things, exposed by your haircut. Defenseless."

Eliot sighed and focused on driving and pretending he wasn't doing so with half a hard-on. He tensed when Parker's arm got too close to his throat, but Parker noticed instantly and moved it. Parker didn't forget and go too close to a chokehold again.

Parker pounced on him as soon as they were out of the car, legs tight around his waist, and kissed him with lots of bite. Eliot carried Parker in, with Hardison going ahead to open and close doors and deal with the elevator for them.

"Let's have sex!" Parker said, doing that magic trick that stripped shirt and bra off in a single move. Eliot had seen it a dozen times, only this time he was looking. Facing all that soft pink skin, those perfect little perky breasts. Parker kissed him again, fierce and hungry, rubbing them against his chest for a moment. Then Parker drew back with a grin and arched back far enough to grab Hardison and kiss him upside down. Eliot had to lean back, brace himself to provide counterbalance, but his body did it automatically. He already knew so well how to move with Parker, with all the sparring and working together they'd done.

"Bedroom," Parker decided, untangling from around Eliot and grabbing both of their hands to drag them to the master bedroom. Hardison was already stripping out of his clothes as they walked, so Eliot started to do the same. Parker dropped pants and shoes at the base of the bed and crawled onto it completely naked. Hardison wasn't far behind, and curled around the back of Parker's body, hands roaming. They were breathtaking together, every bit as sweet and beautiful as he'd imagined they would be, and Parker held out a hand to Eliot to welcome him in.

Eliot climbed onto the bed in just his jeans, kissed Parker with both of their hands stroking him. "How do you get off, darlin'?" he murmured. He couldn't very well give his partner great orgasms if he wasn't told what they liked. Everyone was a little different, and Eliot liked to be able to please.

Parker's nose wrinkled. "With my brain?"

That was... different. Hardison laughed at Eliot's confusion. "Parker's hacked the orgasm, man. It's great."

"It's just focus, breath and muscle control," Parker said. "Anyone could do it."

"But they don't, baby," Hardison said, the fondness of an old argument in his voice. "Parker can come from all kinds of things."

"So what do you want me to do?" Eliot asked. That was the heart of the question he'd been asking. It broke his heart sometimes how many women were surprised when he asked that. Not that Parker was a woman, particularly. Parker was just Parker.

"I want to feel you," Parker said tugging him in close until Parker was sandwiched between them both. "Mmm, kissing and touching."

That Eliot could do. He could run his hands all over the wiry strength of Parker's body, and Hardison's hands that were doing the same thing. He could feel Parker's breasts squished against his bare chest, nipples hardening against him. Drink in every shudder and gasp of Parker's pleasure, slide his thigh between Parker's legs and feel the wet heat of Parker's sex through the fabric while all three of their legs tangled together.

Eliot met Hardison's laughing eyes beyond Parker and leaned up to kiss him, before he returned to Parker to kiss his way down that long slender throat while he circled one of Parker's nipples with the ball of his thumb.

Parker tensed with a small 'nn' sound, and suddenly Hardison was shoving Eliot away so hard it was nearly a punch.

"Get off, let go!" Hardison ordered, and Eliot was scrambling back with his head spinning. He had no idea what he'd done to misstep, where he'd gone too far – but Hardison was scrambling back too and Parker had curled into a tiny ball perched on the pillows, knees hugged to chest and blue eyes showing whites all the way around.

"Go away. Go sex somewhere else," Parker said, voice shaky and tense.

"Parker, I'm sorry..." Eliot kept his voice low and gentle and did not reach for Parker, though he wanted to. He could see how spooked Parker was and could tell it would be the wrong move, but letting Hardison grab him and pull him out of the room felt like the wrong move too. It didn't feel right at all to leave Parker like that.

"What did I do?" Eliot demanded, when Hardison had closed the bedroom door behind them. "What happened? Is Parker all right?"

"Sorry, sorry. Minefield," Hardison said. He looked tired, gazing at the door like he wanted to go right back through it too. "You didn't do anything wrong. Sometimes things Parker wants aren't things Parker can handle? New things. This," Hardison gestured to all of both of them, "this was new."

"What do we do?" Eliot asked. "Just abandon Parker!?" It wasn't right at all. Parker didn't have to be alone, now. They were family, they ought to be able to help some way.

"Sometimes we can talk through it?" Hardison said. "Most of the time, lately. But if Parker says to go away, you've got to go. If you push now, you'll get punched in the throat and screamed at. We gotta wait. Parker will come find us when Parker's ready."

"Damnit!" Eliot snapped, brushing his hair back with both hands. He clenched his fists, anger burning through his hands, but this wasn't a problem he could punch into submission. It didn't feel right, abandoning Parker. He paced across the penthouse, back and forth three times before he noticed that Hardison was just kind of awkwardly standing there. Completely naked, with his half-hard dick slowly deflating and all his clothes in the room with Parker.

"Come on." Eliot gestured Hardison to follow with a turn of his head. Hardison's nakedness, at least, was a problem he had a solution to. His pants were the wrong dimensions to fit Hardison, but his boxers had elastic and they'd have to do. He dug a pair out of his carryon bag and held them out to Hardison, but Hardison hesitated.

"That's... that's a good option, or we could distract each other." Hardison took a step closer, licking his lips. "You're hot and half-naked, I'm totally naked and hot. Want to stave off the blue balls together?"

"Blue balls are an urban legend invented to pressure girls who don't know better into puttin' out," Eliot said, dropping his boxers back onto his bag. Hardison's hip was warm under his hand, heat radiating out of his skin so close to the front of Eliot's.

"I know that," Hardison breathed. "Still want to have sex with you, though." He kissed Eliot, taking the initiative for once. His mouth was great; his lips so soft and the way he sucked on Eliot's tongue far too suggestive. Eliot could have lost himself in it, taken the pleasure that was offered, but he caught himself looking back toward the closed door of the master bedroom when they broke apart.

"Worrying yourself sick won't help," Hardison said. "I figured that out the hard way. Parker just needs space, and we're right here." Hardison kissed him again, like he was begging to be distracted, and this time Eliot let himself fall into it. It must be even harder for Hardison than it was for him to take that step back.

Hardison crowded into Eliot, and Eliot let himself be pushed against the bed and kissed. Hardison ground up against him, building on that heat. Eliot could compartmentalize, could set the worry aside for later and enjoy what he had in front of him. He got his hands all over Hardison's bare body and enjoyed Hardison's hands on him. It felt good to be wanted. He grabbed Hardison's hand, though, when Hardison went for the button of his jeans.

"Condom," he reminded.

"Right. Shit!" Hardison looked toward the closed master bedroom, where the bag with the condoms and lube was. "Tell me you got some too."

Eliot always traveled with condoms, just in case. He didn't have lube, but the condoms were right where they belonged in his bag. He dropped his pants and rolled one on, quick and efficient. "No lube so we can't--" he started, but Hardison had already dropped to his knees and sucked Eliot's dick down and he finished the sentence with a groan instead of words. Hardison had one hand stroking the base of Eliot's dick, the other braced on Eliot's hip. Eliot planted his hips against the bed, held still, and enjoyed. Hardison's technique was fast and messy, sloppy with spit, excellent. He let go of Eliot's hip when he realized Eliot wasn't going to start thrusting and dropped his hand into his own lap.

Hardison moaned around Eliot's dick, eyes grinning up at him like he knew just how good he was. Eliot didn't hold back, let the pleasure build up hot and fast. It poured over the edge of orgasm in a rush; Eliot bit one fist to muffle his shaking cry, his other hand holding the back of Hardison's head just to feel him there.

Hardison wiped the spit off his chin with his forearm, laughing as he stood. Eliot grabbed him before he got his balance, slammed him onto the bed and wrapped his hand around his dick. He stroked fast and hard, efficient to the point of brutality.

"Holy fu--" Hardison's gasped words broke off in a shout as he striped his belly with his come. Eliot stilled, held him through the long pulses of his orgasm, and released when it was through. He slumped onto the bed beside Hardison, whose legs had gone so weak he nearly slid off the bed.

"Not your first rodeo," Eliot commented, once Hardison had pushed himself far enough onto the bed not to fall off it. That had not been a beginners blowjob.

"Hell nah," Hardison agreed. There was quiet, for a little while, with their slowing breaths the only sound. It couldn't last though. Hardison managed to remember how words worked after only a few minutes. "That was hot," he said. "Maybe be a little gentler on little-Alec next time? But that was real nice."

Eliot grunted a sound of agreement. He could feel the slow lethargy of orgasm trying to swamp his brain, convince him to fall asleep right here, and shook it off. It was harder than usual, after coming twice in just a few hours. He made it to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and wipe down. He tossed a warm washcloth to Hardison so he could clean up too. Not that Hardison appreciated it when the washcloth hit him in the face, unprepared. Eliot laughed at his squawk and subsequent tirade about rudeness.

He didn't mean to get back in the bed when he was done cleaning up, but Hardison reached for him and Eliot went. Eliot ended up laying on his back with Hardison's head resting on his chest. With their 'distraction' over, the silence from the still-closed master bedroom was getting louder.

"I wanted to do that for a long time," Hardison commented. "Push you against something and suck you off. See what you sounded like, felt like. I wanted to for a lot longer than I let myself think about it."

"Why didn't you?" Eliot asked. "I'm kinda easy."

Hardison barked a laugh. "Easy, says the scariest man alive. I didn't want my queer ass murdered, is why. Then I didn't want to make things awkward. And there was Parker."

"And Parker needs patience. Attention." Eliot looked through the penthouse again, off toward the accusingly closed master bedroom. Parker who hadn't been loved and cherished right, had all those scars, and now Parker's boyfriend and the man who'd sworn to protect them above all else were having sex. Leaving Parker alone. He couldn't help but think that this, here, was not going to help Parker's state of mind.

This was another big reason why he hadn't planned on telling them, ever, how he felt. They had invited him in together, but now he was taking the one solely good thing Parker had managed to get ahold of.

"I can hear you overthinking." Hardison poked Eliot hard in the chest, almost like Parker would. "Don't do that. Parker's good with this. Parker loves you too."

Eliot batted Hardison's poking hand away, and went back to the previous thought. "Never understood guys who'd get violent when 'no thanks' would do."

"Got to protect their fragile manliness from the evil gay!" Hardison snorted. "Like it's contagious or something. No. But you, you were raised in the south, and 'don't ask don't tell' was still a thing when you were enlisted. How'd you come to terms with being whatever flavor of queer you are?"

There was a number of ways to answer that. Shoving Hardison away and growling 'I just am' was up there near the top of the list. Anyone that wasn't Hardison or Parker would have gotten that, and Hardison would have gotten it too if it wasn't just after they had sex on their honeymoon. Pointing out that he didn't like that word applied to him was lower. Not worth it, since Eliot didn't have a word he really liked to replace it.

"This?" Eliot squeezed Hardison closer, ran a hand down his body. "I ain't going to hell for this." Of all the things he could do with his body, sharing pleasure was the least wrong. When Eliot showed up at the gates of hell it was going to be for the blood on his hands, not for who he'd taken to bed.

Hardison made an understanding sound. Eliot didn't know if he really did understand, but he didn't feel like trying to explain more. The bed was comfortable, too comfortable, with Hardison's warmth pressed along his side. Eliot focused on breathing, keeping himself alert. Hardison shifted and sighed, fingers dancing along the blanket as though there were a keyboard there for him to type on. His laptop and phone were both in the master bedroom, so Eliot took mercy and tossed his own phone to Hardison when he got up. Hardison threw him a brilliant smile, and Eliot left him typing away on it. Eliot put on a pair of boxers to do some of his katas in the big open kitchen/dining/living room.

It was good to clear his mind, to focus on his body, his strength and reflexes. The tool he had protect the people he loved, honed into as perfect a weapon as he could make it. When he was done with that, and Parker still hadn't opened the master bedroom, Eliot went to the pool. It wasn't big enough for laps, but it was deep enough for some endurance and breath-training exercises.

Eliot wore himself out, until he was physically wrung out enough to sleep peacefully for a few hours at least. Hardison had climbed under the covers and was snoring with Eliot's phone on his face like it had fallen out of his hands there. Parker still hadn't opened the master bedroom. Eliot got a spare blanket out of the linen closet and took it to the couch. It was a decently comfortable couch. Eliot leaned back, sprawled out with the blanket over him, and relaxed by degrees into sleep.

Chapter Text

False dawn was beginning to light the horizon when the master bedroom opened. Eliot was immediately alert, his breath carefully not breaking its cadence. He watched Parker emerge through his lashes, a pale ghost in the dark, still naked. Parker padded through, pausing to look at him for only a moment before disappearing into the room with Hardison. Eliot drowsed again to the sound of murmured voices, coming back up when it changed to muffled moans and little whimpers and wet squishes - the distinctive sound of a man getting his face enthusiastically ridden.

Eliot smiled a very small smile to himself as he listened in. Parker would have closed the door if he wasn't meant to hear, or been quieter about it. He was being welcomed into this, for whatever reason.

Parker's orgasm was marked by a series of quick gasps, and then the sounds from the room changed to murmured voices again and then silence. Eliot was about to drowse off again when Parker padded out and came right to him. The sun was rising, the light bathing Parker in pink and gold, a vision of beauty. Parker's long blond hair was a tousled halo, the matching hair at the juncture of Parker's thighs glittered with liquid drops, the wet curls swept up and away from swollen pink-flushed labia and clit. Parker was completely unselfconscious, pulling the blanket off Eliot to straddle him there on the couch. Parker kissed him, mouth slick and tangy with cunt juices; transferred from Hardison's mouth to Parker's and now to his. The flavor shared between them all.

Eliot caught Parker's hip and shoulder, pushing back slightly, and Parker sucked off his lip with a pop to watch him.

"I can't get hard for you right now," Eliot said, tracing the soft edge of Parker's jaw with his fingertips. "I ain't that young anymore." As sexy as Parker was, there were physical limitations to how frequently he could get off.

"Good." Parker leaned in to kiss him again. There was no biting this morning, just Parker's sweet little mouth, tongue pushing into his in blatant disregard for the morning breath he probably had.

"Hey," Eliot drew back from the kiss again, and Parker sat back on his thighs. "You all right? Last night--"

"Last night was..." Parker's hands waved in the air, fingers splaying and grabbing, chaotic. "Too much. Too many hands and mouths and cocks. It was nice and then it wasn't."

"First threesome? We shouldn't have gone so fast."

"No," Parker said. "First one with boys in it. Girls are easier, sometimes? Different expectations."

"I get that," Eliot agreed, petting Parker's hip. What people expected of sex got in the way of good sex way too often. "I don't.. I don't have expectations of you, Parker."

Parker's eyes smiled, head cocking to the side. "I know that now. You weren't angry at me when I stopped. Sometimes people are."

"Then they're assholes who don't deserve to touch you, or anyone!" Eliot said, with vengeance.

"Hardison says that too." Parker leaned into Eliot, arms around his neck to kiss him again. "I want you to touch me more now. No cocks, just touching."

"Anything you want," Eliot promised. He ran his hands up and down the back of Parker's body, compact strength and the little scars that were inevitable from climbing through ducts and dancing through lasers and jumping off buildings. It was grounding, to feel that. Made Parker real, and not just a fantasy in his head. Parker made happy little greedy sounds, kissing him and then biting at his lips to make him groan.

Parker moved both his hands to the front, to cup those perfect little breasts. "Do the thing. With your thumbs."

Eliot floundered for an instant, not sure what thing with his thumbs he was being asked to do, before he tried rubbing circles on Parker's nipples with the balls of his thumbs. Parker's full-body shudder let him know he was on the right track. Parker's hands slid up into his hair, not quite pulling, and then he was kissed like there were diamonds in there to be stolen. Like every part of his mouth was claimed and owned, and then Parker broke the kiss to arch back with a gasp, entire body tensing to buck through an orgasm.

"Did you just?" Eliot could hardly believe it, that it was that easy. They'd told him Parker had hacked the orgasm, but it didn't seem like it could be real. Then again, Parker wasn't one to fake enjoying anything.

"Yeah. Don't stop." Parker gasped. Eliot's face was pulled into Parker's neck, and he obediently began sucking at the soft skin there – teasing just a tiny bit with his teeth when that got a good reaction - still rolling Parker's tight-pebbled nipples under his thumbs. In under a minute Parker was going again, whimpering and squirming in his lap.

Parker sat up higher, neck sadly out of reach, but only to pull his face into Parker's breast. Eliot immediately found Parker's nipple with his lips, his tongue, swirled and sucked. Parker pulled his hand down, guiding it to the waiting slick of Parker's sex.

"Two fingers, in." Parker instructed. Eliot didn't need told twice, Parker was so wet already there was hardly any resistance to sliding his fingers inside. He crooked them up, pushing at the front wall experience had taught him tended to be a sensitive spot as he angled his hand to rub Parker's clit. Parker's high whimper, the clench around his fingers, was reward enough.

Knowing from the get-go that his dick didn't have to perform, wasn't needed or wanted, let Eliot focus completely on Parker. His own body only mattered in how it could pleasure Parker's. He did get half hard, with his face crushed into Parker's breast and his fingers grinding knuckle-deep in the silky heat of Parker's sex, feeling the tight shuddering squeeze of Parker's orgasms, but his own arousal faded away again hardly noticed when he went untouched.

Parker came again, and again. The slickness was dripping down Eliot's wrist when Parker finally pushed him away. "No more." Parker's voice was raw. "Enough."

Eliot eased his fingers out, kissed the center of Parker's sternum, and relaxed against the back of the couch. Parker shifted to no longer straddle him, curling up in his lap, and Eliot squeezed Parker tight. Parker nibbled on his neck, and then just nuzzled into his hair.

"Knew you'd have good hands," Parker whispered. "Nice fingers. Thick and strong."

"Got a good mouth too, if you want to wrap your thighs around my head," Eliot offered. That was a favorite fantasy, ever since he started teaching Parker how to grapple.

"That's harder for me," Parker said. "Maybe someday, but..."

"Only if you want," Eliot reassured. "I liked this."

Unlike Hardison, Parker didn't seem to feel the need to fill an empty space with words. They shared companionable silence together until Parker's skin cooled and Parker pushed him to lay on the couch and pulled the blanket over them both, laying full length on him. Eliot brushed Parker's hair out of his face, the strands that were trying to get in his nose and mouth, and relaxed again.

It felt good, Parker's slight weight on his body, but the strain on his breathing and the ache in ribs that had healed and broken too many times had faint alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind. It wasn't a big deal, something he could ignore, but he was also tired from not sleeping well. If he drifted off like this... time and pressure, especially coupled with inattention, was the recipe for an explosion.

Eliot rolled, slipping out from under Parker and wrapping Parker into a blanket burrito in the same move. He left for the kitchen with Parker peering after him. He washed his hands, found an apron, and went over the available ingredients. Eggs and fresh basil and some sharp parmesan would make good omelets. There was even a decent sourdough bread to go with it, and oranges and tangerines to make fresh-squeezed juice.

Parker was dressed and brought Eliot a pair of jeans by the time he was ready to start cooking the omelets. "Hardison is hiding under a pillow." Parker reported. "He doesn't want breakfast."

"His loss," Eliot said. The omelets weren't his personal best, but they were creamy inside and the balance of flavors wasn't bad. Parker smiled, eating one, and that was better than a Michelin star any day.

Parker sat on the counter to watch him load the dishwasher, when they were done eating. Offering a helping hand wasn't something that had ever been impressed on Parker, and Eliot didn't mind. It wasn't like he'd made that many dishes.

"The pool," Parker said. "What is it for?"

For rich people to show off their money, Eliot didn't say, though that was about the only reason to build an infinity pool. Especially here in the desert. He also didn't say it was to drink champagne in and feel superior.

"Breathing exercises."

Parker lit up, immediately grasping the competitive potential. They were holding their breaths and practicing their dead-floats – useful to convince someone you were dead and let the current take you away from them – when Hardison got up.

"...both my partners, ganging up to give me a heart attack." Hardison was going, when Eliot came up for air and could hear him. There was a shock through his system, like a jolt of electricity, that 'partner' was a word Hardison was comfortable using for Eliot as easily as Parker. Not just business partners, partners in crime, but partners to love and make a life together. "That's nice. That's nice. 'Good morning, Hardison, we look dead'. See if I get you a pool next time. I'll be sitting back laughing when both your pasty asses get sunburn and peel."

The sun was starting to get high enough that sunburn would be a concern, and Eliot didn't have any sunscreen with him. Parker was already leaving the pool to kiss Hardison and make him complain about getting his clothes wet, so Eliot left it too. He was pressganged into making Hardison an omelet too when he was dressed, by Parker claiming that it tasted like cuddles with someone you wanted to cuddle with.

Eliot complained about it, but there was already bread sliced, basil julienned, and a glass of juice squeezed in the fridge waiting. The pan was already waiting on the stove, the butter beside it. Hardison gave praise easier than Parker did, but it was still good to hear him enjoy the omelet.

"So, last night I seem to have stress-hacked us up three really nice tickets to Cirque du Soleil?" Hardison said, crunching on the last of his toast. Parker made a face, and Hardison hurried on. "I know, tickets aren't as good as the rigging above the stage. But they use the rigging above the stage, so you can't hide up there through the show. And I got backstage passes to check out their gear and setup after the show? Or not us. For Sheikh Abdul, his 'special friend', and um..." Hardison had the grace to look embarrassed. "Bodyguard?"

"If I have to sit in the seats for the show, can I be the bodyguard?" Parker asked. "I've been practicing my Eliot faces!" Parker's face twisted into something truly horrible, eyes bugging out and lips curling into some approximation of a snarl. Both Eliot and Hardison recoiled.

"Eliot does not look like that!" Hardison protested, stumbling over himself. "Ok, you do the thing with your eyes – that one right there, it's terrifying – Parker that does not look like what you were doing."

"I'm the bodyguard, Parker." Eliot put a stop to all the nonsense.

Parker pouted. "Fine. But then I'm going as Sheikh Abdul's secret American boyfriend. I brought a binder and the fake stubble stuff. And I'm going to flirt with the bodyguard."

"Bodyguard might flirt back," Eliot decided. Parker as a boy tended toward 'cute twink', and that had its appeal.

"Is this? This is my life now." Hardison threw his hands up, his eyes laughing. "This is the gratitude I get, trying to set up a nice date."

"Sophie said to work on complex character motivation." Parker leaned over and kissed Hardison's cheek. "Maybe the sheikh can go home and have sex with both the boyfriend and the bodyguard."

Eliot liked that possibility, as long as it didn't end with Parker getting overwhelmed again. Hardison's smile said he liked it too.

Parker bullied Eliot into taking a nap in the master bedroom where it was darker and quieter, since they'd made him sleep on the couch on accident, and when he was bored of that and got back up, Hardison had gone out. He had apparently heard of a source for some hard-to-get electronic component and run off in search of it. Parker had set screws down the beam at the highest point of the ceiling and was testing out a climbing rig. Eliot let Parker use him as a test dummy, to see how many pulleys it took until Parker could easily hoist his weight up too. Parker kissed him there, hanging in the air with his body trusted to the surety of Parker's grip. Just a brief peck, then Parker lowered him safely back to the floor.

They sparred, throwing easy punches and grappling like they always had. Only when Parker got Eliot into a solid triangle choke, powerful thighs around his throat, they stayed like that on the floor for a little while. Parker's fingers carded through his hair, tugging a little in a nice way, and Parker didn't squeeze off his air. Hardison would have panicked in the hold, had the one time he was in it, but Eliot could tell he was breathing just fine. The alarm bells going haywire in the back of his mind weren't anything he couldn't handle. He pet Parker's hips and belly, enjoying their strength.

"See, you're ok with this." Parker gave a little squeeze, making Eliot's blood pound in his head for just an instant. "But in the car, when my arm was close to your neck, you didn't like that almost as much as Hardison doesn't like it."

"If you choke me out here, then I'm out. That's all." Eliot tried to come up with a good concise explanation with his throat held in the vice of Parker's thighs. "If I lose control of the car it puts us all in danger, and innocent bystanders."

"Hm." Parker hummed thoughtfully, giving a couple more brief squeezes, then grinned. "Ok!"

Eliot took an instinctive gasp of air when he was released, and then pushed himself to his feet to offer Parker a hand up. They grappled again, moving from hold to hold without any urgency. Parker had great muscle memory – just one demonstration, and Parker had a hold down for good. They held their pins longer than they had to, relaxing their hold but neither of them making a move to leave it. Parker nuzzled against Eliot's neck, or pet whatever parts of his body were closest, and Eliot did the same. It wasn't sexual, just close. Trusting.

Parker twisted Eliot's arm behind his back, digging a sharp elbow into the pressure point beside his spine to keep him still when he squirmed.

"I thought love was like... like a bucket with holes in it," Parker said, unprompted. "No matter how much you tried to pour in it, it just ran out the bottom and you got nothing back."

"Parker," Eliot tried to roll over, but Parker dug an elbow in even harder, and he gave up with a grunt. It was a good hold. He couldn't get out without either hurting Parker or dislocating his own shoulder, and he kind of needed his shoulder so he was stuck.

"I'm not done," Parker huffed. "I thought that's all it was. But then with Hardison it's like an ocean? And he can give me buckets and buckets and buckets; and he can give you buckets too, and there's still a whole ocean? He's not taking buckets away from me to give them to you, so that's why it's ok for you and Hardison to be in love and have sex and stuff."

"I love you too," Eliot pointed out, mumbled into the floor. "Not like Hardison, I don't have oceans, but--"

"Of course not," Parker agreed. "You love with your whole body, with everything. Like slow fire."

That might be a good way to describe it. Eliot had tried to hold it back, but it burned up through him anyway, until keeping the two of them safe and happy was the most important thing in the world. Eliot shifted his arm, his shoulder was starting to ache, and Parker gave him a little slack. He got another elbow in the spine when he tried to roll over again. This was a conversation that couldn't happen with eye contact, apparently.

"And you, darlin'?" Eliot asked.

He could feel the surprise pass through Parker's body. His arm was released entirely, and he put it in a more comfortable position without trying to roll over again. Parker sat back, weight resting on his butt, and Eliot waited.

"Hardison is my warehouse, with everything in order," Parker said eventually. "I know I have what I need. You're... clipping my harness into the ropes. Knowing I'll be caught."

Eliot could be that. He could be the fail-safe. It seemed the conversation was over. Parker went for another hold, but Eliot fought back and they tumbled their way across the floor with their hisses and grunts of effort the only communication they needed.

When Hardison got back Parker had Eliot's arm in a great arm-bar, textbook perfect. Parker could have popped his elbow backward by holding on tight to his wrist and arching, but was instead gently playing with his hand. Eliot rested his free hand over Parker's foot on his chest, thumb rubbing slowly up and down the instep.

"I ain't even gonna ask," Hardison said, stepping past them.

"Did you find your components?" Parker asked brightly.

"I found a hack giving obsolete chips a paint job and trying to sell them as the latest model." Hardison made a face. "As if anyone couldn't see the pins were all wrong! I could make a better forgery in my sleep."

Parker made a sympathetic sound, and Hardison went off on a rant that, as far as Eliot could tell, wasn't even in English. Eliot and Parker shared a look, and let Hardison rant himself out. He seemed to feel better afterward.

It didn't feel long at all until it was time to get dressed for their aliases. Eliot's bodyguard was easy, he just had to look like himself with a nice jacket. Hardison's sheikh was a suit and a keffiyeh. Parker's boyfriend took more time to put together, but less long than for a very feminine costume, and the result was cute with a buttondown shirt and the hint of a mustache and sideburns.

Eliot chauffeured the sheikh and his date. Dinner and a show was such a classic date Eliot couldn't be even a little surprised Hardison had chosen it for them. He was all about living in the modern age, but he was a traditional romantic at heart. The food was good, though Eliot had enjoyed Mindy's restaurant more, and Cirque du Soleil's show was excellent afterward. The acrobats were great athletes, beautiful, all of them.

"I could do that," Parker commented on most of it, but there were a few times Eliot caught Parker peering intensely at the stage trying to figure something out. Parker even gasped in delighted surprise twice, and Eliot shared a smile with Hardison over it.

When the show was over and Sheikh Abdul and entourage were let backstage, Parker very nearly gave the stage manager a heart attack by slipping away and climbing up into the rigging. Only some quick talking by Hardison and some pointed glaring on Eliot's part kept them from being ejected immediately, but still the stage manager seemed relieved to see them go when their tour was over.

Eliot drove again, since he was less likely to be pulled over than Hardison. It was late enough that there was very little traffic away from the main strip. Parker had stolen shotgun as part of flirting with the bodyguard, leaving Hardison to be chauffeured in the back.

"Eliot." Parker's fingers found his side, poking at the faint bruises of their grappling. "Do you like to be fucked?"

A sharp 'no' burned on the tip of Eliot's tongue, his hands clenching on the wheel, but he could tell in the intensity of Parker's stare and how still Hardison had gone in the back seat that this was not an idle question. That 'no' he wanted to spit out would be a lie, and they'd never ask him again if he said it.

"That's... it ain't simple."

"Complicated can be fun," Parker said.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want," Hardison broke in. "We can do lots of other things if that's got bad memories."

Eliot snorted, almost a laugh. As though either of them could make him do something he didn't want. "Not like that. I don't fuck easy, like Hardison does. I don't fuck..." there was no other word for it, though Eliot paused a long moment looking for one. "...nice." He hit the blinker to turn onto their street, eyes trained hard on the road but all his other senses straining toward Parker and Hardison while they digested that.

"The opposite of nice is unpleasant," Parker said, weighting the words, trying to find a way they fit together into an understanding.

"Yeah," Eliot agreed. Unpleasant was a good way of putting it. "Mean."

"You're not mean," Hardison started.

"Tell that to the people I enjoy beating the shit out of, Hardison!" Eliot snarled back, glaring at him in the rearview mirror. "I get... When I'm fucking someone I like to take it easy, play around, make sure they enjoy themselves. When I'm being fucked I don't. I'm... me!" He hit the steering wheel with one hand for emphasis. It took parts of him best kept deep down and brought them right up to the surface. They were at the building, now. Eliot pulled in too fast, slammed on the breaks, reached for the door as he yanked the keys out of the ignition.

Parker's hand stopped him, grabbing his arm. "We know you." Eliot would have pulled away and slammed out of the car, if Parker hadn't somehow found the space between him and the steering wheel to straddle him, pinning him in place. Parker held his face captive, kept him from looking away. "We know you, Eliot. You're not going to scare us."

Maybe... God, maybe that was true. Parker was comfortable getting right in his face at his fiercest, climbing into him. And now Hardison's hands joined them from the back seat, a hard grip on Eliot's shoulder even though he'd seen Eliot take tougher men to their knees with less contact.

"You don't gotta do anything, but don't write off something you want 'cause you don't think we can take you."

Eliot didn't say anything in answer, but maybe Parker saw something in his face because Parker opened his door and climbed out. Hardison gave Eliot's shoulder another squeeze and left the car too. Eliot took a deep breath, strongly considering turning the car back on and driving away for a few hours, before he shook it off and joined Parker and Hardison at the elevator.

He folded his arms and didn't look at either of them on the long silent trip up to the penthouse.

"So!" Hardison's tone was too light, false, as they stepped into the penthouse. "Do y'all want to take turns fucking the sheikh? Because I could go for that." He was obviously trying to take them into more comfortable territory. It would be easy to go with that, easy and fun to fuck Hardison, and see how Parker took him. It was an option.

"I'm taking a shower," Eliot said. "Afterward, we'll see." His hair really did need some more care than he'd been giving it, even now that it was short, especially in the desert dry and having had it in the pool a few times. Showering would give him time to think.

Things didn't seem any simpler in the shower than they had out of it, though there was the benefit that Hardison and Parker weren't looking at him. That he knew of. The chance that Hardison had planted bugs in the bathroom was very very low.

The question wasn't whether or not Eliot wanted to be fucked, or whether or not he wanted to be fucked by Hardison, or even by Parker with a dildo. Those were all three easy yeses, though he hadn't considered the third as much. He'd wanted it from Hardison for ages, and more now that he was intimately acquainted with Hardison's dick. It was long to match Hardison's height, and Eliot could just picture what that would feel like inside him. The hard smack of their hips together, stretch and depth that was almost pain but all pleasure. Hardison was in shape, he was strong, he'd be able to ride Eliot through it. Eliot groaned, pulling on a double-handful of his conditioner-slippery hair. He was already half-hard just thinking about it, now that he was letting himself.

The question was whether he should. He loved them. Loved them till it burned, and he couldn't hurt either of them. Eliot had scared people before, when he was young and dumb and didn't know how to find people who wanted to give him what he needed, and Hardison wasn't it. Parker, maybe. Parker was always more of an unknown quantity. But if Eliot was looking to get fucked and found Hardison in some city's cruise spot, he would move right past him. Hardison was nice, and Eliot wasn't nice when he was fucked. Eliot couldn't hurt him. He couldn't.

Maybe that was the key, though. Eliot couldn't see himself harming either of them. He could picture how to destroy about everyone else in the world, but not Parker or Hardison. His mind refused – even when he slipped a fingertip inside himself, insufficiently slicked with conditioner and water, and everything turned red-edged and intense.

He knew he wouldn't hurt them at any cost, or under any circumstances, and they knew that too. 'We know you'. They knew what he was capable of, at least a little of the shape of the things he'd done, and they trusted him completely. He was their hitter, their protector, their safety net.

They weren't going to get scared that he was going to kill them, halfway through. And if they didn't like how Eliot was when he was fucked, if they weren't compatible that way, they still loved him. They might not want to do it again, but they wouldn't leave him for it. He was theirs, tangled up with them and their lives before they asked to marry him and took him to bed. They were a team, one that never could scatter to the wind for long no matter how they tried. Parker and Hardison weren't going to cut him loose now.

Eliot was going to do it. There never had been a question of it, had there? He'd already made sure he was empty and clean. Ready. This was all just him talking his brain around to what his body already knew. Eliot shut off the water and went for a towel.

He was going to trust them.

When Eliot emerged from the bathroom, dressed in only a towel around his hips, the sound of Hardison moaning drew him to the master bedroom. Parker had Hardison pinned to the bed, sucking hard on his nipples to make him squirm and moan. Eliot had missed that nipples were a sensitive spot for Hardison. Hardison was hard and completely naked, Parker had washed off the fake stubble and was naked except for boxers; the bottle of lube and a bright green and yellow dildo, already wearing a condom, were beside them on the bed.

They were beautiful together, with Parker wringing the pleasure out of Hardison. Eliot almost didn't want to disturb them, almost stepped back and left them to their pleasure, but Parker looked up and grinned at him.

"He's all warmed up and squirmy," Parker chirped, reaching for Eliot. "Come on!"

"Hey." Hardison levered himself up on his elbows. "Do you want firsties or seconds, 'cause I can—"

"I want to be fucked."

All the air left Hardison, like he'd been punched in the gut with pure joyful hunger. Parker just grinned wider beside him.

"Yeah," Hardison breathed. "Ok, yeah, we can do this. We can do this. How do you want to do this? I'm good with just about anything. Is now a good time to tell you how many fantasies I've had about your ass? Because that thing is a work of art and I have had very bad thoughts."

"Shut up, Hardison," Eliot said. It had no bite to it, but thankfully Hardison still shut up. "I take a while to get started, then I want it hard. Rough."

Parker nodded solemnly, like this was information that would come up in a test later. Hardison pondered it harder.

"How rough are we talking?" Hardison asked. "I'm not ok with causing harm."

"Just as hard as you can fuck. Bite my neck, pull my hair." The words were familiar, the ones Eliot used when he was picking up someone to fuck him. That should have made them easier to say, but Eliot still felt raw, exposed. He didn't normally say them to people he expected to ever see again.

Hardison's dick jumped against his belly. Clearly it was into that.

"Enough talking." Parker decided. "Hardison wants to fuck you more, so I call fingering!" Parker dove for the bag to fish a latex glove out of it. Eliot tossed a condom to Hardison, and rolled one on his own soft dick as he dropped the towel.

"Wait, why are you wearing a condom too?" Hardison asked, as Eliot let Parker pull him onto the bed. "I wasn't wearing a condom when you fucked me."

"Direction of risk," Eliot said. "You're low risk, I'm high."

"It makes cleanup easier, too," Parker said, pushing Eliot to make him lay down. On his belly would be best, less likely that he'd forget himself and grab someone's throat to make demands partway through being fucked. Not that he'd done that in a very long time, not unless it was negotiated beforehand. Parker nudged Eliot more onto his side, top knee raised, and was then satisfied with his position. Parker ran a hand all the way down his spine, like soothing a skittish animal, and brought the other hand slick with lube to Eliot's ass.

Parker's fingers were a little cold, extra smooth from the latex glove, rimming slowly round and round the tight muscle before one slender finger pushed through into him. Eliot snarled, instinctively clenching on the intrusion before consciously releasing.

"Very tense," Parker commented, stroking Eliot's back again calmingly. "Hardison give Eliot kisses and love. Distract him."

Eliot bit back the retort that it would be pretty damn hard to distract him from something pushing into his ass. Especially now that Parker was wiggling the finger, tapping around inside of him. Hardison seemed very eager to follow Parker's instructions. He clambered around to lie in front of Eliot, hand stroking Eliot's neck and shoulder and pressing warm kisses to his cheeks and lips.

Parker was methodical, like cracking a safe. One finger turning and tapping, and then a second finger. Lots of lube, keeping everything frictionless. Eliot tried to relax, to bear down a little and make it easier, but it was harder with Parker's fingers than it usually was with his own. He couldn't predict Parker, didn't know what to expect. He fought the urge to grab Parker's hand and take charge of it, instead grabbing a handful of the sheets.

"You're very quiet and tense," Hardison said, cupping the side of Eliot's face. His deep brown eyes were worried, when Eliot opened his eyes to see him. "You sure you like this?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Eliot gritted out through his clenched teeth.

"Ok, ok," Hardison soothed. "But you look like you want to murder someone."

"I might if Parker doesn't learn how to find the prostate sometime this y—huh," Eliot's snarl broke off with a breathless groan as Parker's twisting fingers finally pushed deep enough, curling down to push firmly into his prostate. "That. There." Eliot pushed back against Parker's hand, rolling his hips to get the right stroking pressure.

"He's trying to hold back," Parker said, as though Eliot weren't right there to hear. "We need more distraction so he can't. Hardison, start pulling his hair. Eliot, you're going to play with your cock."

Eliot's hand released the fistful of sheets and went between his legs immediately. He cupped his half-hard dick, letting the motion of fucking back against Parker's fingers provide the stimulation.

"Yes sir!" Hardison said brightly. He had the same policy of obeying when Parker ordered, those rare times Parker made demands. His hands were hesitant in Eliot's still-damp hair. "How do you like your hair pulled?" he asked.

"Close to the root. Firm." Eliot awkwardly wrestled his bottom arm into position to grab Hardison's hand in his hair, get a good handful and pull. The pain prickled across his scalp, sharpening the intensity of everything. He dropped his hand, and Hardison repeated the motion, hesitantly.

"How do I know how much pulling is too much?" Hardison asked.

"Because I'll break your fuckin' arm, now pull!"

Hardison pulled firmer, kneading at his head, and Eliot pushed back against Parker's hand, groaning low in his chest. The pleasure ran all the way down his spine, from his scalp to his ass and then curling between his legs to the half-hard dick in his hand and pooling in his belly. It wasn't enough.

"Give me another finger, Parker," Eliot ordered. There was a pause, an infuriating moment of stillness, before the shock of more cold lube against his ass and an instant later the stretch of a third finger teasing its way in along with the first two. Eliot stilled, breathed through his teeth, waiting for his body to adjust. Hardison's hands were still in his hair, rhythmic tugs that Eliot matched with his hand on his dick. He was rocking back into Parker again, searching for depth, before he knew it. It wasn't enough, he couldn't get that pressure deep where he needed it. Not from fingers.

Eliot pushed Parker away, grabbing Hardison to haul him upright. "Hardison. Now." He shoved Hardison behind himself, getting up on his knees with one forearm braced against the headboard. There was the sound of the lube bottle, the snap of a glove removed, an awkward moment of arranging legs and lining bodies up, and then finally the tip of Hardison's dick slid through the lube in his ass crack. A moment of pressure and then it slipped through the ring of muscle and into Eliot.

"Ooh," Hardison breathed, hands stroking down Eliot's back and thighs. "Oh, Eliot."

"Hold still." Eliot glared over his shoulder in warning. He rocked slowly back and forth, taking more of Hardison's dick by increment.

"Holding still. I can hold still," Hardison said, breathless, hands clenching on Eliot's hips. "If you could see how beautiful you are right now, man..."

Eliot knew he was ready when his hips met Hardisons in a hard grind, feeling the pressure of Hardison's dick so deep inside. He rocked forward and slammed back into him hard, snarling in his throat.

"Now move!" Eliot demanded, repeating the motion, and again, before Hardison gathered himself enough to more than just ride him through – to hold tight and meet thrust with thrust. "Is that the best you've got? I thought we were going to fuck. Come on!"

Hardison, for once, didn't have anything smart to say back. He did pick up his pace, though, gasping hard through his mouth as he jackhammered into Eliot. Hard and good. Almost enough. Eliot wasn't going to last long.

"Like that," Eliot growled. "If you finish before me, Hardison, I swear to God I'll make you wish you'd--"

Parker's hand closed in Eliot's hair out of nowhere, viciously yanking his head up. He was so far gone he hadn't even been aware of Parker's presence.

"I have the dildo right here." Parker's voice was far too calm for the fire that burned through Eliot. How could anyone in the world not rage? "You'll get what you need." His head was pushed down again, and he whined through his nose at the pull at the little hairs on the back of his neck. It stung so good, with all his nerve endings alive. He missed it sharply when Parker let him go, pet his neck and shoulder gently before disappearing. "We'll take care of you."

Hardison and Eliot's positions slipped, Eliot's knees spreading and his body falling into the bed as he bucked into Hardison, Hardison's body toppling slowly to cover him. Hardison's lips found his neck when he was finally in range, soft kisses and the faint edges of teeth against his nape. Eliot was close, so close, he just needed a little bit more.

"Bite it!" Eliot ordered.

"I am biting you!" Hardison gasped back, returning to his half-assed nibbles.

"Put your teeth in me, or I'll rip them out and feed them to you!"

Hardison tried. He put a little more pressure in his bite, but it wasn't enough. Eliot snarled his frustration. He almost wanted to reach back, almost wanted to make Hardison do what he needed, but Parker's hands were there again. Two hands pulling his head up and back by his hair and Parker's body curling into his, Parker's teeth sinking into his throat sharp enough to force a shout out of his mouth. His orgasm rolled through him, hard and hot for an endless moment of shooting pleasure.

Eliot collapsed when he was done, and Parker let him go. On top of him, inside him, he could feel Hardison's body jerking with his own climax. There was a stillness, panting breaths the only sound, for a long moment. Then Eliot shifted his hips slightly.

"Out," he requested, quietly. It was too tender, uncomfortable, now.

"Mm," Hardison agreed, shifting only just enough to pull out before collapsing on top of Eliot again. A Hardison blanket, hands beginning to skate across Eliot's body again, affectionate across his muscles and his scars. The weight and strain on Eliot's breathing wasn't too uncomfortable yet, though it would become so. The alarm bells in the back of his mind were muted in the wake of orgasm.

"Good tag-team, baby." Hardison reached up to high-five Parker. Eliot couldn't help his snort of a laugh as he heaved Hardison off him and into Parker. Hardison didn't go far, though; he wrapped one long arm around Eliot, flinging a leg over him too. Parker wiggled around until Hardison's head rested on Parker's belly and began gently finger-combing Eliot's hair. The faint scratch of Parker's short nails on Eliot's sensitized scalp felt wonderful, sending slow shivers through Eliot's body.

"That was intense," Hardison mused. "I don't think I could do that for you all the time."

Eliot nodded once. That wasn't unexpected. Hardison was still touching him, both of them were, and that was more than enough in the floating moments beyond.

"Don't get me wrong, that was hot," Hardison continued, "but also a tiny bit terrifying."

"Terrifyingly hot?" Parker suggested.

"Maybe. Or hotly terrifying?" Hardison mused. "Like riding some big dangerous animal – except not because no, ew, bestiality. I'm not big on being the tough Black boyfriend?"

"I could do it," Parker said, petting the side of Eliot's face. Eliot turned his face, finding the inside of Parker's wrist to kiss, and Parker smiled. "Would you like that? I could use some ropes and a thigh strapon. Or I've got small hands."

Hardison groaned, "Parker, don't talk about fisting when I'm a noodle and can't do anything. But Eliot you should definitely have Parker fist you some time. It's a religious experience."

"You do say 'oh god' a lot when I do it," Parker agreed.

"And cry and come all over myself," Hardison added, sighing happily.

"Sh," Eliot hushed. He couldn't really words, for the moment. He ought to be getting up, cleaning up, but he couldn't gather the motivation. If he were anyone in else in the world's bed he would have, but he pushed into Parker's petting hand and Hardison's cuddle and didn't move. He stole just a few minutes of quiet and comfort, with his body still singing.

"Sorry," Eliot finally managed to find the word, remembering the threats that had come snarling out of his mouth. "When I said... you know I would never."

"We know," Parker soothed.

"You're all bark," Hardison agreed. "You wouldn't go after us."

Eliot had almost wanted to. Almost, and almost only counted in IED's and hand grenades, and Eliot wasn't either of those no matter what anyone might say. He was controlled destruction, more controlled than he'd been afraid of. Eliot finally managed to shift his body, moving up to kiss Hardison. It was sweet, a soft kiss. Then he moved up further to kiss Parker too.

Then Eliot did have to go clean up. His ass was getting itchy and tacky with drying lube, and his condom was gross.

"Toss me a washcloth too!" Hardison called after him. Eliot took care of that first, and then closed himself in the ridiculously large and mirrored bathroom to clean up. A shower was easiest; and if he had to sit down and breathe for a little before he made it back to the master bedroom, that was between him and his jelly knees.

Parker was fully naked when Eliot returned, curled up in Hardison's arms, and Hardison's hand was between Parker's legs. Eliot hesitated, not sure if he should leave them to their pleasure, before Parker reached for him.

"It's my turn. Lay with us," Parker ordered, and Eliot tucked his fresh towel tightly around his waist and obeyed. Eliot lay to the other side of Parker, and when Parker moved his hand to a breast he took the initiative to begin playing with Parker's nipple. It was lazy sex, sweet and comfortable, and Hardison's dreamy smile to the other side of Parker said he felt the same. There was nowhere Eliot would rather be than pleasuring Parker along with Hardison, Parker's body cradled close between them. It was just the thing to share in the softness after the intensity of being fucked. Sweet to counter the fire, binding them all three together.

"We got you," Hardison murmured, kissing Parker's neck and shoulder. "We got you baby."

Parker came slower than in the morning, a gradual buildup and then long bucking tremors before Parker settled and moved their hands away.

"Only one?" Eliot asked.

"Mm, I had lots earlier," Parker said, yawning. "It's late."

It was late. About five hours until they had to leave for the airport, but none of them seemed to be in any hurry to go to sleep. Eliot's hands wandered over both Parker and Hardison, noticing the different textures of their skin. Parker's more velvet, Hardison's firmer. Both of them wonderful. They moved around each other, Parker had to pee, and then later Hardison, and Eliot got some boxers instead of wrapping up in a towel that kept trying to come undone, but they always came right back. The light was turned off, but they stayed together. Hardison was in the middle briefly, and then Eliot was with both of their hands on him, both their bodies pressed close and warm against him.

"I like your scars," Parker murmured, finding and tracing around each one of Eliot's many scars.

"They mean he got hurt," Hardison protested, lips against Eliots cheek like a whispered kiss.

"They mean he survived," Parker corrected. "Our Eliot is hard to kill, and that's important."

It was simply said, bare, and all the more beautiful for it. For too long Eliot hadn't had anyone who cared if he survived or not, if he was hurt or not. And now he had his team, his family, who loved him and not just for his usefulness. Hardison and Parker's hands met in the middle of Eliot's chest, holding tight to each other over his heart, and Eliot covered their hands with his like he could shield them from all harm forever.

"This is us," Hardison said. "All three of us – to have and to hold. We get to have that."

Eliot smiled at the wedding vows in the dark, Hardison's traditional romance even if this was anything but traditional. "For better or worse," he added.

"For better or worse," Parker agreed. "Together. But let's try to help each other make it better?"

"We already have," Eliot promised.

"I'd say for richer or poorer, but it's definitely going to be for the richer," Hardison said. "Have you met us? We're too damn good to get poorer."

"Till the day I die," Eliot finished. There was no use pretending the others were going to go first. Hitters didn't get old. Parker and Hardison held him closer for it.

There didn't seem to be the need for any more words. They lay together, three bodies snuggled together in the dark until Eliot's eyes started to drift shut and he had to get out from between them. Hardison and Parker let him go with sleepy kisses and murmurs of love.

Eliot left them to sleep in another room, another bed, but the doors stayed open between them.