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“Why do I have to be the one to do it?” Eliot complains. Alec is already at his wrists, snapping the cold metal around them.
“Because these are my designs, and Parker can escape anything.” Alec leans closer, holding Eliot’s eye for an uncomfortable moment. “And you remember what happened that one time she couldn’t.”
Eliot winces. Okay, yes, he does remember that. Parker isn’t afraid of a damn thing, except when she is. Then it’s… yeah, he gets it. She doesn’t like feeling trapped. Better to let her play with the cuffs when she’s already seen it done, just in case. Alec also knows that playing on Eliot’s need to keep her feeling safe is the quickest way to ensure compliance.
Not that much compliance, though.
“Seriously?” Alec mutters as the cuffs come off with a single twist.
“You made it too easy.”
“I told him those were no good,” Parker chirps as she enters. She’s carrying a duffel bag that she unloads onto the bed. It’s mostly a large array of various handcuffs, the sort of thing that reminds Eliot just how weird their line of work really is, but there are a couple additions. Lube, condoms — “To reward you for your hard work!” Parker says when she catches him staring — lotion, lock picks, a set of pliers that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and… Icy Hot.
“I don’t know what that’s for, but if it’s a sex thing, I’m out,” Eliot says with a shudder.
“It’s not,” Parker assures him. “Well. It might end up sex-adjacent. You know, if you pull a muscle. Because you’re old now.”
Alec is wisely already restraining his wrists again, which means Eliot’s threatening twitch in her direction gets aborted. Not that she cares. She presses a quick, dry smooch to his temple regardless.
“Wasn’t too old to handle that team in Beirut! Wasn’t too old” — he twists, flexes his wrist and one thumb at the same time, and the second set of cuffs fall away — “to break that dumbass’s arm!” Parker’s lips purse, her eyes going squinty with amusement, and somehow it riles him up worse than if she said something. “I took on five guys at once last month—”
“Man, I’d love to see you take on five guys at once,” Alec says in that smooth, dirty tone he gets sometimes. Despite his alleged old age, Eliot blushes like a schoolkid.
“Ohhhhh!” Parker laughs. Then she and Alec high five over Eliot’s head. He hates them almost as much as he loves them.
Still snickering, Alec returns with a third pair of handcuffs. These have a wider band, and they feel heavy when they clamp down on Eliot’s wrists. Then Alec backs off to watch him work. It doesn’t take long. These are trickier than the last two, but with some creative twists, he manages to undo them in under a minute.
Alec placidly tosses those in the discard pile. They’re followed quickly by pairs four and five. Not, of course, that most of the bad guys they handle would have Eliot’s experience with this kind of thing, but if they’re aiming to restrain the occasional hired gun, well, it wouldn’t hurt to have top of the line gear. Besides, anything that keeps Alec busy is probably for the best.
Parker is perched in a chair by the bed now, hands folded primly beneath her chin. It’s hard not to feel judged; there’s a reason she’s not the one testing these, and Eliot still thinks he’s doing a fine job when six, seven and eight all hit the floor, but he knows that if it were a race, she’d win every time. It feels like he thinks it might feel to have Alain Ducasse watch him cook — only worse, because he cares about impressing Parker in a way he cares about impressing only one other person in the world.
“Stop starin’,” he finally says, struggling with the pin on pair number nine.
“Stop staring,” Parker snarks back, and she does not stop. If anything, she only looks more eager.
Weirdly, Alec looks excited too. This was his idea; Eliot would expect him to be getting frustrated by now, or at least focused, ready to puzzle it out and resolve the whole thing in a sudden stroke of genius. Instead he looks positively delighted, and it’s weirding Eliot out.
The penny finally drops when the twelfth pair of cuffs hit the discard pile. Alec looks almost gleefully unhinged, muttering, “Lucky number thirteen,” as he snaps the stiff cuffs around Eliot’s wrists. Eliot pulls, and then he stares. The hinges are barely visible. He twists, he wriggles, he even almost dislodges his thumb, but the handcuffs are fully stuck on. He doesn’t even see a lock he could pick right away.
When he does find it, he tries to dig at it with a hairpin, then with the lock picks Parker brought in. He spends five full minutes struggling with the cuffs, and he makes no progress. “Think we found the ones,” he finally concedes.
Alec’s grin is blinding. “3-D printed carbon fiber, baby,” he coos. He’s sweet-talking the handcuffs, not Eliot, but that doesn’t mean it has no effect. Something squirms in Eliot’s belly. “You see—”
“I don’t want the lecture,” Eliot grouses, trying not to roll his eyes.
“I already heard it,” Parker says. Alec is not quite pouting, so she adds, “It was nice.”
“Thank you.” Alec shakes it off, then he’s grinning again. “You can have the lecture anyway, or you can say it.”
Eliot grits his jaw, but no, no, he does not want to spend thirty minutes sitting here in handcuffs while Alec nerds out about whatever he did to make these, extra special, just for them. The end result is cool, but Eliot can’t bring himself to care that much about the process. “Age of the geek,” he says through his teeth.
Alec cackles in triumph. Parker says, “Good boy!” and pats Eliot on the head like he’s her pet. It’s a weird, frustrating thought, because maybe in some ways he is. Some part of him curls up warm when she says it, like a dog at the foot of the bed. Content. It is deeply embarrassing.
“Can we get these off now?” Eliot huffs, trying to hide his flush behind some bluster.
“Nope!” Parker says cheerily, maybe a little deviously. “First: your payment.” She turns to Alec, one fist over her flat palm. Of course they play Rock, Paper, Scissors over… whatever they’re planning to do. Of course Alec loses. Eliot told Parker about his tell. Then Parker announces, “I choose… tails.”
“What?” Eliot demands finally. The mystery can’t keep going.
Parker has her hands on his belt, which is… Okay, he can live with the mystery, because he’s pretty sure it’s sex-related, and he’s even more sure it’s going to clear up quickly. Which is how he ends up pantless, arms up over his head and now latched onto the headboard, because as annoying as both of them can be, they are pretty damned persuasive. Or Eliot’s an idiot. That’s always a possibility.
Parker’s hand is warm when it closes around his cock, working it to hardness. Embarrassingly, it takes very little effort. Eliot is a lot of things, but he’s not very good at lying to himself these days; he was already half erect, just from being close to them, and the lube, and the handcuffs.
Then he can’t actually see Parker, because Alec is in front of him, peeling off his own shirt and… yeah, okay. He was already in good shape way back when, but the years — and the time with Eliot, training, working out — have really done a lot for him. He’s bulkier now, just a solid wall of muscle, and he’s right there, nothing but beautiful, smooth dark skin for what looks like miles.
Eliot’s mouth is already open when Alec leans down to claim it. It’s short and sweet, and shockingly dirty for how quick it is, before Alec is pulling back again, thumbing at Eliot’s mouth. “Open up, old man,” Alec says, mouth tilting sideways when he smiles this time.
There’s no argument now. It’s moving so fast, which is exactly how he likes it. No time to think about anything. Just the three of them, working like a well-oiled machine, Alec’s thighs straddling his chest and heavy cock slipping between Eliot’s lips while Parker rolls a condom down and settles the wet heat of her body onto his cock.
Eliot moves on autopilot. He’s done it enough. Even without his hands, it’s easy after all these years. Alec’s cock slides smooth across his tongue, and he closes his lips around it, sucks like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do in this life. Maybe it is. Maybe they’ll kill him like this, one day. It’d be a good way to go. Better than he ever thought possible, better than he deserves.
Parker sighs and clenches around him, opening up around his cock, sliding slick over it. He can feel the scratch of her nails on his stomach where she holds herself up, holds him still so she can take whatever she wants from him. Alec’s hand slides into his hair, and Eliot moans, a real one yanked from deep, deep inside. Fingers scrape over his scalp, almost massaging, because Alec knows how much he likes — how much he needs — that kind of touch, and his throat opens up and just takes Alec’s cock like it’s all he was born to do.
They work him over with years of practice behind it, fucking his mouth, using his cock, using him the way he promised them they always could. He never felt used and cherished at the same time until he met them, and he doesn’t think he could explain it to anyone else, but… it works. He lets Alec’s cock go as deep as it wants, rocks his hips up into Parker’s rhythm the best he can, clenches his hands into tight, bloodless fists just to feel one more sensation.
His lips go numb and he strains his tongue and his thighs ache from raising him up to meet Parker, and he can’t imagine being anywhere else. He can feel the tension in his arms though, and reluctantly, he admits he might be grateful Parker brought the Icy Hot.