Title: Sexual Suicide
Beta: Koryou on LJ
Pairing(s): Parker/Hardison (includes references to Parker/Nate, Parker/Sophie, Parker/Eliot) ... oh and there's some Nate/Eliot UST
Summary: She always knew he'd be the one to save her... but she never thought she'd be the one to destroy him.
Warning: **** DARK!FIC **** like, for real. It has a happy ending, I have a sickness with those, but this is kind of uber!dark. There is no character death: the title is a metaphor lol. This deals with a very real sex addiction and how it can form and manifest in people and pretty much destroy their lives.
A/N: I've written a couple stories for Leverage that has to do with real, dark issues like this before, but this is the first time ever posting it publicly. Well, okay, I did deal with domestic abuse and have skated lightly over rape, but this is much more in depth and... yeah. So. Read at your own risk.
Parker remembers the night she first had sex.
She remembers how old she was, though she doesn't like to think about it anymore. She remembers the darkness – she was sleeping. At least, she was at first. Snuggled into her bed with Bunny, nothing but the moonlight shining through the window. A hazy memory; maybe foggy from just being woken, but she almost remembers his hands taking off her clothes. Confusion; there was a lot of that. Jerking up straight in bed and being pushed down with a hand over her face to muffle her screams; it almost suffocated her. Wide eyed fear and muffled pleas for it to stop were cut short by the worst pain she's ever felt when he ripped her apart from the inside out.
Her therapist told her not to ever refer to that as sex, and especially never to refer to it as losing her virginity. Parker never listened to her though; she found no point is listening to someone who was paid to pretend they care. Once she was out of the system, and therapy from that "traumatic experience" was no longer mandatory, she stopped going.
Parker remembers that she didn't even start masturbating until she was nineteen years old.
She knows that is in no way normal, but she didn't ever want to touch herself. It always felt dirty down there. She didn't like looking at it, she didn't like having it there. She wished sometimes she could just get rid of it all together, but she didn't know how. She took out her anger on her body, leaving her scarred in places no one ever saw for a long, long time. Even when they did, no one ever had to guts to ask about it. Parker decided though that if they did ask she would tell them, hoping to hell that they would just leave her alone, even though she's the one who propositions everything. All of it. All the time…
The first time she masturbated she never went inside herself. That area was meant to destroy, not pleasure. She didn't mean for it to start happening, but she was frustrated. A heist didn't go her way and she was just so pissed. The tightness was all through her body; consuming her, driving her crazy. Furiously she took off her clothes and got in the shower, and as she washed herself hard, roughly, just trying to get out her anger, her soapy fingers slipped over her clit and she moaned.
So fuck it. She found a new way to release her anger. The tightness disappeared and she could relax for a little while. But it was just like a drug, or so she would assume. She's never done drugs, but she knows that's how it goes. The high is never as good as the last; the craving comes quicker than before. All the anger, the hate, the rage at herself, at him, at fucking everyone and everything that was built up, suddenly came pouring out because of the possibility of a release… and she couldn't keep up with it.
Parker was never good with people.
So how she ended up having real, mutual sex for the first time when she was twenty one, she has no idea. She never really thought of herself as particularly beautiful. She was just kind of there… like that fire hydrant or the lamp post she could see from her spot against the cold, hard brick wall as she was taken like a prostitute. She was just part of the scenery then… and hell, she can't even remember his name now. Joey or… damn, maybe Robert. For all she knows he could have been a Billy or a Tommy Lou, but that isn't the point. She's pretty sure she knew at the time, anyway. Hopefully. But it didn't matter.
It was hard at first. His hands, his dirty little hands touching all her dirty little places. She'd moan because it's what she's supposed to do, she'd tell him more because that's what he wants to hear. She'd suck his cock even though it scared her half to death, and she'd take it exactly how he wanted to give it to her because she needed the release.
It was so hard at first. But it got easier.
Parker's lost count of how many people have had her, and part of her hates herself for that. She started slipping deeper into insanity, and now her own thoughts don't make sense to her. She hears half the things that come out of her mouth and how they're ridiculous but yet she needs to say them. She needs to speak; always. Speaking is just another form of control.
Parker needed control.
Parker needed control to trust. So meshing into this domesticated little lifestyle with a team of well known thieves and a half drunk ex insurance guy… well, trust needed to be formed. She needed control over all of them in order to feel safe.
Parker never knew the real meaning of the word 'safe' though.
She took Nate first, though she's sure he doesn't remember. He was drunk, fumbling, could barely even get his damn zipper down and his cock hard and she's pretty sure he was on something other than just booze. He slurred his words and his eyes crossed and yeah, she took him first because he would be the easiest. Liquored up and a pathetic mess; he screamed to be the first one to take the ride. She tasted gin on his lips as his uncoordinated hands tore at her panties, and when he slipped inside of her she tried to think of rainbows and gummy bears.
He was actually pretty horrible, but whether that was due to his incapacity because of the liquor or because he was just bad in bed normally, she never knew. She doesn't even care.
Sophie was next, the motherly figure that she was. It was wrong and it was dirty to have her because of that, but maybe if her own fucking mother gave half a shit she wouldn't have this urge. Sophie was harder, more difficult to coerce. When Parker kissed her for the first time Sophie pushed her away, this worried look coloring her face like she knew more about her just from one kiss than any words could ever say. Parker hated that, she hated all of that. She didn't need Sophie to know anything, ever. But with subtle touches, whispered promises of ecstasy and a request filled with all the fake emotion she could muster up for Sophie to help her feel good about herself… she gave in. Twice, actually.
Sophie was beautiful when she came, and Parker's pretty sure she despises her for it.
Sophie hates herself for it now though, she can see that. She tries to talk to her about it, but Parker just stares at her blankly and diverts the conversation to any random thing that pops up into her brain. Every time it leaves Sophie confused and full of self loathing and leaves Parker feeling something in her gut that might actually be guilt, if she ever knew what that really felt like.
Eliot was both easy and hard at the same time. He was stuck on being some kind of gentleman, thinking Parker's just some confused child, and so for a long time he resists. It was all about knowing what would get him going though, and who knew it would be glasses? She slid to her knees in front of him, looked up over the rim, and already knew she had him before his own hands flew to his pants. After she sucked him off good and hard he took her, bent over Nate's island counter while everyone else was out on the job, and she swears he made her head spin all the way around.
God, Eliot was good.
She had him maybe fifteen times before he finally told her that he wasn't gonna be her little fuck toy anymore. She thinks he half expected her to really like him, and the other half of that speculation is that she's pretty sure that he was hoping she started to. But she didn't tell him that, it wouldn't be true. She just turned around and walked out the door, and that was that.
Eliot's been grumpier than usual ever since then.
Parker meant to have Hardison before this, after all, she did kind of enjoy how big black men were. But then she realized how damn easy it was going to be, and she wanted more of a challenge. But all of her challenges were over, and then there was him. She didn't even say anything; she knew she wouldn't have to. She just pushed him up against a wall, her lips finding his and her shirt peeling off of her body so repetitively that sometimes she wonders why she even bothers to put clothes on in the first place. She expected his stutters and his confusion, but she didn't expect him to say:
"What?" she asks breathlessly, stepping away from him. Her chest is heaving, she feels the need inside of her threatening to devour her whole and spit her back out again. It almost hurts and she… she needs it. She doesn't have time for this. "You stare at my breasts all the time." He wasn't now though, his hand was over his eyes. This was unfortunate. Wasn't he wanting this every day for… ever?
"Parker, no, what you're… Parker, just, no. You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm not retarded," she states, angry. She knows she's not completely one hundred percent functional in the brain area, but she isn't stupid. "I know what I'm doing. I'm not a virgin. And I would like your dick inside my mouth." She pauses, hoping maybe a request would work better with him. "Please," she adds, as an afterthought. It's not pleading though, just more of a statement.
"Trust me, I know you're not a virgin." She hates the way he says that. It makes the hurt spread, not just in her groin area from the need but something around her chest. What the hell was that? She decides she doesn't like it. It's tight and it makes her feel like she's suffocating even though no one has a hand pressed over her nose and mouth.
"So then what's your problem? I have a nice body, everyone says so. It's curvy in the right places and really soft. I know you want to touch it."
"I'd rather not be the five hundredth one, thank you," he states in a flat voice, but it's colored in hurt. Her eyes widen.
"What are you talking about?" she tries to keep her voice steady, but it deceives her. It shakes a little, and she wishes she could strangle her own voice for a second just so it will do what it's supposed to.
"I'm not stupid, Parker," Hardison says, and his voice… god, his voice. She wishes he wouldn't use that tone, it's making her chest hurt more. "You… god, you fuck… everything." He says it like it's bordering on disgusting, and her eyes mist over. What's happening? This has never happened before! "You're out of control."
"Are you stalking me now?!" she asks angrily, and he takes his hand away from his eyes to glare at her. He's so hurt, just like her. But she doesn't understand why. Why does he care? She grabs her shirt back from off the floor and puts it back on. Obviously she was not going to have sex with him tonight.
Binocular boy. Pervert.
"You know everyone is tagged with GPS, Parker! You know Nate has me make sure we're all safe. And you… you've been everywhere. I didn't know what was going on and I was so fucking worried about you, that something was going on that you couldn't tell us, or didn't want help with. I even thought you were just compulsively stealing, and you know how Nate freaks out over that. I didn't expect to see you… god. See so damn much of you. See how much everyone has seen of you." There's a pause and he looks at her, letting her know how much he knows. "God, even Sophie. No wonder she needed a break from all of us, the team. It's not just Nate, and I think you know that."
This feeling… she hated this feeling. She couldn't describe it, she's never had it before, but she's pretty sure it's shame. But it infuriates her because damnit, now she's crying. She feels one tear slide down her cheek, almost like it's taunting her. Shit, this is not acceptable. She decides she hates him, decides that she kind of wants to hurt him. He's so mean, he's ruining everything! She is not part of the reason Sophie left, she isn't!
"There's nothing wrong with me!" she shouts, though she's sure she's only saying that to convince herself. Did he even say there was? Now she's confused. Angry, hurt, crying, and so confused. She doesn't like it here anymore. Not here with him. He ruins everything. It's like he cracked her in half like an egg and now she was oozing yellow stuff. Disgusting yellow stuff.
"Parker, you sleep with everyone! From the way Eliot's been acting I'm sure you've already had sex with him, and Nate… god, I don't even want to think about that, if you did." He shudders a little, and she can't stop herself from going at him, the palms of her hands connecting with his chest as she shoves him back as hard as she can against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. She didn't even know she had moved until it had already happened. Was she starting to black out? This can't be good.
Parker screams, "I HATE YOU!" the fury raging up inside of her. But the instinct to flee is too strong, her fight or flight instinct somehow makes her choose flight and then she just leaves. Runs, is more accurate. She runs away as fast as she can. She doesn't even know where she's going anymore, but it doesn't matter. She's out the door and into the streets and she's fucking flying. The wind's in her hair, making the tears down her face stream back towards her ears. She just runs… she runs until her legs won't carry her anymore and she collapses somewhere.
Some man finds her, covers her in his coat and picks her up off the ground and wipes her tears away. Some random man, just being nice. He's asking her all sorts of questions that she can barely even hear. She can't think; everything hurts so badly and she just needs it to stop. It was like pain and agony didn't realize that they were so similar and kept fighting each other inside of her with tiny little emotion-clad swords.
Another dirty alleyway. Maybe this is where she belongs. The man has no idea what's going on, how in the hell it got to this point, but he's a real man (unlike fucking Hardison) and he just goes along with it. She's sucking him off, his strange little dick deep in her throat… when all of a sudden he is very much not there anymore. She looks up to see him stumbling backwards, and she hears shouting.
"Get the hell away from her!" Hardison screams at him, shaking out his hand. Did he just punch him??
Parker wants to tell the man no, that he can stay and Hardison needs to leave, but the guy's already zipping up his pants as he retreats in the opposite direction. It infuriates Parker. She stands up and shoves him backwards, "Leave me ALONE!"
"No! I'm not gonna sit here and watch you destroy yourself, Parker! Not anymore!" he screams back, trying to grab her wrists to make her stop hitting him, but he's nowhere near her level of training. He tries, he does. Not to fight her, but to subdue her. But she gets in one clean punch across the cheek and he stumbles, and as she throws him into the wall, pinning him face first into the jagged brick while holding his arms behind his face, she screams:
"WHY DO YOU CARE?!"
Fuck, she's pretty sure she sees some blood on his forehead. Oh god, what is she doing? She doesn't even know who she is anymore. And it gets so much worse when he gasps out, a shuddered breath, obviously in pain from what she did to him:
"Because… because I love you…"
She lets him go then, she doesn't know what else to do. It's like something just hit her straight in the face and, damnit, is she bleeding or is she—? It's wet on her cheeks, and as she starts screaming again, her sobs making her damn near unable to understand. She realizes she's crying again. "Why?!" she demands. Why can't she breathe? She's feeling dizzy. "You don't know me! You don't know anything! I'm dirty!"
And then she's on the ground, and she doesn't know how she got there. Her legs must have collapsed beneath her. She puts her hand on her forehead, trying to stop the dizziness, trying to have some coherent thought about what the hell is going on but all she can hear is her own sobs and she can barely see through her tears.
The stabbing is everywhere now, all over her body. Maybe she's stabbing herself. All the tiny little swords trying to shred her apart from the inside; destroy her and everything she's become.
Parker feels him there though, Hardison. She can feel his arms around her and can hear him saying something but she can't make out what it is. She can't stop crying. She can't even move, can't speak. Then she's lifted off of her feet and he's carrying her, and all she can do is hold on and try to stop the tears that continue to fall despite her best efforts.
Somehow they made it to her house, and he sets her down on the couch. She's still crying, but it's more like dry heaving now. She doesn't think she has anymore tears left in her body. When she can finally see, the first thing she sees is him, and she chokes back a sob as she looks at his face and what she did.
There's a bruise forming on his cheek, and a noticeable gash on his forehead. But he doesn't even seem to care, and she can't understand that. He's looking at her, worried, like all that matters to him in the world is her. She doesn't understand any of it. She reaches up to him slowly, hesitantly, and then she touches the blood. When she withdraws her hand and looks at the crimson staining her fingers, she starts to cry more, and he just wraps his arms around her.
"Just a scratch," he tells her. She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand him. He should hate her right now. Why doesn't he hate her?
Then she realizes… she's not in her house.
"What the hell happened?!" Nate screams, frantic as he rushes over to them, coming down his steps from his bedroom. He takes in the form of distressed Parker and bleeding Hardison, and he's freaking out. Parker's trying to stop crying, but she can only dull it.
"Just… someone messing with us. Asshole mugger. Don't worry, it's fine," Hardison tells him. "But Parker's frantic and your house was closer. Sorry, didn't mean to—"
"I was already awake," Nate finishes his train of thought. "And no, you are not fine. You need stitches. Come on, we'll get you to the hospital."
"I… I… h-hit him…" Parker manages to get out through her sobs, looking at the blood on her hand. God, she hated everything about herself right then, in that moment. She wishes the swords would just gouge her eyes out. Stupid tiny little emotion fighters, they aren't even doing it right.
"Parker, you did this?!" Nate shrieks, and Hardison's up in a flash to defend her, though she knows she doesn't deserve it.
"Leave it, man. Can't you see she's upset about it enough? Just call Eliot, have him watch her while we go to the hospital," he tells him, but Parker doesn't want to be left with Eliot. She doesn't want to be left with any one of them. She ruined all of them, she did it to feel safe and in control and she doesn't feel like either of those things anymore.
But they don't leave until Eliot gets there, and Eliot knows how she's prone to sneak away, so he continues to watch her like a hawk. She had stopped crying by now though, but all she can do is wrap her arms around her legs as she's curled up in a ball on the couch, keeping one eye on Eliot like he's the one who should be watched.
"So you punched out Hardison," Eliot says finally, after maybe a good long stretch of twenty minutes silence. She doesn't say anything, just looks at him. "Wanna share why, exactly?"
"Fair enough," Eliot says, leaving it be for the moment. He sits down on the armchair and picks up the paper. He crosses his legs, looking down at the paper and says in this casual conversational way that has no business as the tone used in the sentence, "But I'm glad someone finally told you no."
"Fuck off." She tries to make it sound intimidating, but all it comes out sounding like is weak and pathetic. He cocks an eyebrow at her.
"That's something you're not gonna be doing for awhile."
"You're just mad because you were too weak to resist me," Parker spits out angrily. "You still are. You'd do me in a second if I wanted you to right now. You like the way my body looks naked, I know that." Part of her wanted him to. It still hurt inside. It's bursting to get out and she can't… she can't make it go away. She hated how that sounded coming out of her mouth. It was so pathetic. It makes her cringe and start compulsively rubbing her hands together.
She feels dirty.
Eliot has the nerve to snort as he chuckles. Asshole. "Have you taken a look at yourself lately, darlin'? You're a mess. And no, not a hot one either." She just glares at him, but continues to try to wipe her hands clean, even though they already washed them. "We're all sick of this," he tells her flatly. "This is stopping now. Look at yourself…"
She doesn't answer, she just chooses to look away from him, deciding that his presence isn't worthy for her eyes. It made her feel better in her head, anyway. Her nails scratch at her palm, over and over. Eliot finally realizes what she's doing and tells her, "Stop it, Parker. Stop."
"I'm dirty," she says, trying to rub it off. It felt like bugs were crawling all over her, and the pain in her groin still hasn't subsided. He gets up and slaps her hands away before grabbing them, looking at her seriously.
"There's nothing on them."
Parker doesn't say anything. They look at each other for a long time before she takes the remote and flips on cartoons, turning her eyes away from him. Maybe Bugs Bunny would make the pain go away. It wasn't like a drawing of a rabbit could get her any hornier than she already is. And he definitely couldn't make her feel any dirtier.
…If she even is horny. She doesn't even know anymore. She swears being horny used to feel good, now it just feels like it's tearing her apart inside. Maybe this isn't being turned on, but something else entirely. She's not stupid; she knows she has a problem. She knows sex is her heroin, but she keeps needing another fix. It makes everything go away. Like all the tiny little bugs and the dirtiness all over her.
Orgasms… they were her real drug. For one, perfect, so short moment… everything didn't completely suck.
God, she needs to steal something.
When Eliot gets up to go get some coffee, she gets up as well, following him into the kitchen. He's watching her, thinking she's going to try to seduce him. But she just leans against the counter as she watches him pour himself a cup. "I want one," she says.
"I'm not giving you coffee," Eliot tells her, like that's a stupid idea.
"Your system doesn't need caffeine. Personally, I really wish you would just go to sleep. Least then you'd…" he trails off, and she's annoyed at how easy it was to lift his wallet from him just then. She throws it back at him, annoyed, and he catches it. She's pretty sure he just let her do that, because he didn't seem surprised.
"I'd what?" she snaps, annoyed.
"You wouldn't hurt. Least for a little while," he tells her as he puts his wallet back in his pocket. She just stares at him, setting her jaw.
"I'm not in pain." She didn't need anyone to know that. No one would ever understand. They don't have bugs and dirt and little sword emotion-clad idiots stabbing her.
"Your pain is written all over your face."
"Just… leave me alone, Eliot," Parker snaps again, and turns to go back into the living room. She collapses on the couch, feeling so… exposed. This wasn't how this was supposed to go, any of this. All of them knew she had some sort of problem, and she just didn't… she didn't need this. She is in pain, but with everything else going on, somehow she's able to ignore it, for the most part. She's exhausted though, and before she knows it… she does fall asleep. And yes, it didn't hurt anymore. At least for a little while.
When she woke up she wasn't in Nate's house anymore, but she wasn't in her own either. She sits up, disoriented a little, and looks around. Where was she?
Then she see's Hardison in the other room, passing by the doorway. His eyes flicker over to check on her, and when he realizes she's awake he smiles a little, and walks into the room. "Hey," he says softly.
"Why am I here?" she blurts out automatically, not understanding why she was in his bed if he wasn't going to have sex with her.
Or did they already and she just can't remember? Can she have sleep sex? That would be new. Would that mean she has a new talent? That could be cool. Maybe she can do other things in her sleep… hey maybe she steals in her sleep already. Or do you have to sleep walk to do all those things? She has no idea.
"You, Parker, are here because you are on lock-down."
Parker blinks heavily, looking at him like he just told her that she was here because she needed to ride an elephant. It made that much sense to her. "What?"
"You're going through sex-detox," he clarifies. Her eyes widen.
"For one whole month you aren't going to have sex," he tells her, though stays far enough away from her just in case she plans to attack him again. He pauses, "Of any kind," he tries to clarify, hoping she'll get it so he doesn't have to say it out loud.
"You're locking me up for a month?!" she shrieks. What the hell was that?! She's not an animal!
"No, not technically. You'll be able to go out, do jobs… you just get a chaperone. But that has to be earned first."
Parker's eyes flash, but her voice is hoarse and she doesn't want to scream anymore. Especially looking at the state he's in… that bruise on his face and that bandage on his forehead… she can't. Not at him. But she crosses her arms, and she knows she's pouting like a five year old, but goddamnit she can't help it, and she says sarcastically, "Fine, do whatever. Locking me up with a man probably isn't the smartest thing, but sure, go right ahead."
She wanted to scare him away, since apparently everyone is scared of her sex now, but he doesn't even flinch. Why is he so confident? It's annoying. It's like when the rainbow colors come on the TV screen and they do that test beep. No, sorry, it's more annoying than that.
"Well Nate thought it would be smarter to call Sophie and ask her to help, but after finding out you had sex with her too – which, by the way, he's really not too happy about… I'd stay clear for awhile if I were you – Eliot decided it's better that I do it since I seem to be the only one who hasn't seen what your bottom line is."
Parker just stays silent, arms folded across her chest.
"Which, on that note: Ew? I can't believe you had sex with Nate."
"He was drunk."
"I was thinking more along the lines of you had to be the one drunk to do that, but whatever," Hardison says. He's still making this face like he has a bad taste in his mouth. Parker really doesn't like it. She doesn't need her sex to be judged.
"I don't drink."
"Which is why I find myself questioning your sanity."
"Please go away now," Parker requests, angry. She didn't want to be badgered like this. If she has a problem and needs to be getting better, isn't everyone supposed to be nice to her? Tough love isn't very much fun.
She remembers what Hardison said to her, and her eyes widen. Hardison doesn't seem to notice though. "There are cameras," he points all around, "Everywhere. Don't try anything."
She pushes that love thought out of her mind. Maybe he didn't mean it. "Like going out the window?"
"Go for it, if you can drop down ten stories and walk away without a scratch without your gear. Sure," he says, and she just glares at him. "And no, that's not what I meant. I know you can't leave anyway except the large vent in the living room and the front door, and you ain't getting past me." He makes a face and revises. "Okay, I know you can, but I really hope you don't want to beat me up anymore."
A twinge of guilt. Damnit. No, she doesn't. She can't.
"What I meant was don't…" he waves his hand in her general direction, not wanting to say the word. She just looks at him like he's insane, because she doesn't understand what he's talking about.
"Why are you waving at me?"
"Don't… touch yourself," he manages to get out, and even though his skin is really dark, she's pretty sure he just blushed. But she just stares at him for a minute.
"I can't masturbate." It's not a question; it's more a furious statement.
"No, you… you can't. I'm sorry, but no," Hardison tells her. Her eyes flash again, and god does she want to scream, but she doesn't. What's the point? There might be cameras, but… yeah, she can definitely get away with it. So she just says,
"Go the fuck away now please, Hardison," just trying to show she's still angry, and when he leaves – not closing the door, mind you – she lies back angry in the bed and just stares at the ceiling.
She was in jail.
And not even the jail where you can get laid! She'd rather be someone's prison bitch then be here. And unfortunately, now that she was wide awake, the urge that didn't get satisfied from last night reared its ugly head again. She shifts beneath the covers uncomfortably while her eyes searched the room for the cameras.
One in each corner of the room. Okay. Well, she can work around that.
Damnit, part of her feels bad for doing this. For fucking up their little rehab within five minutes of realizing she's in it. But the hurt is starting to form quicker now, and she grimaces. She has so much anger, so much rage, especially because of this, and isn't this a healthier way of getting it out then hitting Hardison's face again? She can't keep ruining the pretty.
She feigns a yawn, pretending to go back to sleep. She rolls over on her stomach, making sure that all of her is under the covers and that her hand was underneath her. She tries to bury her face in the pillows, hoping that none of the camera angles would be able to see anything. And then she starts shifting. It's only slight, a little bit at a time, and it's driving her crazy that she can't just stick her hand down her pants and just do what she needs to do. But she has to act like it's just regular falling asleep shifting, and it takes a whole agonizingly long ten minutes until her fingers are pressed up against her clit enough so that she can get herself off without moving very much.
She presses against herself hard, and bites her bottom lip so she can keep from gasping. God, she needed this. Tight little circles, so perfectly formed and so perfectly executed with years of daily practice has her head cloudy within five minutes and she starts to slip with her façade. Her little sighs of contentment that could have been easily mistaken for sleep sighs have now become quiet gasps, and she's lifting her hips up more, sliding her fingers down so she can get them wet before coming back up and trying to finish what she started.
Trying being the operative word.
"Parker!" Hardison yells, coming into the room. Damnit. But it's too late now, she's already been caught and she's already so close that she doesn't care anymore. She doesn't pretend anymore, and she lets out a low moan, rubbing herself faster, trying to get off before Hardison stops her.
But then hands are on her, turning her around. "Parker, stop it!" Hardison yells at her, rolling her on her back to face him and trying to grab her arm that had her hand in her pants. But she pushes him off with her other hand, annoyed that he made her slip from her sweet spot.
"Alec please…" she begs, her fingers finding their destination again. "Please I need it…"
"No, you don't!" he exclaims, and this time he does grab the right arm and pulls her hand away from her. She shrieks in frustration.
"Yes I do!" she yells, and quite purposely smears her wet fingers over his lips. His eyes go wide. "Just let me!"
"Jesus Christ," he gasps out, getting disoriented for a second from the scent and taste of her. Her pupils dilate and darken from his reaction, and suddenly she turns predator, and he can see it. He backs up away from her suddenly.
"Do I taste good?" she asks breathlessly.
"Parker, stop, I mean it," he tries to demand, but his voice is coming off shaky. So much for his control. It almost makes her laugh, but she's more interested in screaming in ecstasy. She throws the covers off of herself and gets up, advancing on him.
"If you really love me than you'll have sex with me," she tells him, her chest heaving from being so turned on and so angry.
But that was so the wrong thing to say. It makes him snap out of it, and now he's furious.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?"
That makes Parker stop. Oh, this isn't good. The tightening in her chest was back, fighting for the worst pain over her groin. She winces. God, why does everything have to hurt? "Nothing," she manages to get out.
"I can't believe you just fucking said that," he says, so angry with her, but she can't think anymore. God, it was hurting too much. It's been too long since she's gotten off, and she was so close. She grimaces in pain and sits down heavily against the bed.
"Ow," she manages to get out, her eyes closed as she tries to make it stop.
"What?" Hardison asks, and she can hear the worry flood into his voice. "What is it? What's wrong?" How is he not even angry anymore? Why can't she just switch it off like that? It isn't fair.
"Nothing, I'm fine," she gasps out, and grips her own thigh, digging her nails in. She tries to focus on that pain instead.
"You're not fine, tell me what's wrong," Hardison demands. But she doesn't want to, he's just going to…
"You're going to think I'm lying."
"Just tell me."
"I need to get off, okay?!" she screams, opening her eyes to look at him. "It hurts, Hardison! It hurts really badly! Damnit!" She winces again, and bites her lower lip hard. God, this wasn't jail, this was hell.
"Shit," Hardison mutters, looking at her. He doesn't seem to know what to do, and she's hating that she has to wait for him to decide. She doesn't even know why she's waiting, why she won't just do something, but she keeps feeling horrible whenever she pisses him off.
"Please help me," Parker begs him in a small voice. She looks up at him, her eyes pleading with him. She can't take this anymore.
"I'm not gonna… I'm not having sex with you," he tells her, serious. But he's still worried.
"I know, just please let me make it stop. Please."
Hardison looks at her for a long time, but it's clear he can't keep watching her be in pain. He nods slowly, and within moments she's tearing off her jeans. He backs away from her, but she doesn't care. Her fingers dive into her heat so quickly it's almost a relief in its self just to be able to touch it. Her digits slide over her clit and down to slip into herself and god she hopes he's watching. She knows he isn't though, he's too much… he's too Hardison to watch, but she knows he didn't leave, she would have heard him, so she moans out:
"Don't," he says seriously. "Do what you need to do just don't say my name."
But it turns her on even more, just the fact that he's there, even if he's not watching. She puts on quite a show with her sound effects, and she's making a bet with herself inside of her head on how big his boner is gonna be when she's done. When she does finally fall off the edge, and the pain has finally subsided, she sighs in relief and just lays there, looking up the ceiling.
"You done?" Hardison asks, like he doesn't know. She hopes that doesn't mean what she thinks it means. How many women has he ever slept with?
"Yes," she says breathlessly, and sits up. He's in the corner, turned away from her. She peers at him curiously as he turns around, and then a smirk lights up her face as she looks at what that just did for him. "I can take care of that, if you want," she tells him in a low voice.
"Parker, seriously. You… god. I'll take care of it myself. And if you're gonna act like this afterwards, then I'm not gonna let you stop the pain next time," he snaps, and storms out, calling out over his shoulders, "And the camera's are still on, the door and vent have alarms that have layers of disabling alarms, so don't try anything. I'll know."
She doesn't say anything, she already feels bad. She knew she shouldn't have said anything about his erection… not after he helped her. Or let her help herself. But she just couldn't help it – it was automatic. She sighs and puts back on her jeans, wandering out into the living room.
"Sorry," she says, but its soft, and she knows he can't hear her. He already went into the bathroom. She has half a mind to go listen at the door, but knows that's probably a bad idea. She doesn't want to get turned on again, because then the pain will come back and she doesn't know if he'll let her stop it this time. But she knows he needs to do it, especially if he hasn't had that much sexual experience. It'll start hurting for him too, and she doesn't want him to have blue balls, that would just be mean. She sighs and flops down on the couch, turning on the TV.
First hour of sex rehab and she failed miserably.
It actually bothers her. It's surprising that it bothers her, actually. She does hate living like she does, hates looking at herself in the mirror everyday and knowing what she's done. God, how many people she's let do her. She hates how awful it makes her feel… but she doesn't think she can stop. Without sex the anger and the rage just doesn't go away. It just builds up and builds up and she gets so… violent.
She finds the remote and flips on the TV, but does a double take when she realizes she's looking at herself on camera. She looks up at the camera in the corner of the room, then back down at the TV. Oh. She presses a button and it switches to the bedroom a moment later. Okay, well this is weird. She figured he'd have it all on his computer. Maybe it's on both.
How the hell does she get regular TV?
Parker starts pressing buttons on the remote, just trying to fix the damn thing, but then her eyes go wide as it switches to the bathroom cam.
Oh my god, Hardison was… big.
Shit, she wasn't supposed to be doing this. She tries to switch the TV, but her heart isn't really in it. She can't help but watch as his hand slides up and down his shaft, just trying to get relief of his own after Parker basically tortured him on purpose. She bites her lower lip and shifts a bit on the couch. He was... he was a very pretty man. More than pretty. Beautiful. His penis was even a bit beautiful and she always thought they were kind of scary looking as a whole species.
Wait, penises aren't a species.
Crap, how did her hand get in her pants again? This isn't go—okay, no, this was very good. She slips her fingers over herself and moans quietly, her eyes never leaving the screen. Her fantasies were running wild through her head, and she never realized how badly she wanted Hardison until just then. And not because of his dick, but because of how she was thinking about it. It wasn't like normal; it wasn't all this rough fuck to get off shit that she always thinks she needs. It was so…
But she couldn't finish her though, because then suddenly the front door opens.
Her hand is out of her pants in a flash, but she can't turn the TV off before Eliot gets a good look at it. "HARDISON!" he screams. "YOU SUCK AT THIS!" He slams the door closed behind him and comes over to the bathroom door and starts banging on it. "STOP WACKIN' YOURSELF OFF AND GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!"
"What?" Hardison says in a hurry and within moments he's opened the door. "What happened? Where is she?"
"Getting herself off to your cam show!" Eliot growls, "What the hell is wrong with you? Not twenty four hours and you're already giving her masturbation material?!"
"What?" Hardison asks, then his eyes go wide, and he looks over at Parker on the couch… and at the TV. "PARKER!" he screams, like its her fault.
"I was just trying to watch TV! It's not my fault your penis showed up all over the screen!"
"You're off duty," Eliot tells him, annoyed.
"What? Like you could do any better. She'll have you bending her over in, uh, I give it five hours," Hardison snaps.
"I'm not going to have sex with her again," Eliot snaps back. "And I sure as hell ain't gonna wack off when there are camera's around!" Parker kind of doubts that; Eliot was kinky.
"Okay, first of all, you have no idea what the hell went on, so fuck you. Second, you can't watch her. I won't let you. This is my house."
"What do you mean you won't let me?" Eliot challenges. "Hardison, this ain't the time for your stupid little possessive crush to rear its ugly head. Parker needs help."
"I know that, don't you think I know that?! But you fuck just as many women as she does. I doubt you can say no for very long."
Eliot narrows his eyes at him, glaring. "She might have fucked as many women as I have, but she's also fucked a whole shit load of men too." A beat, and he defends, even though no one asked, "And I haven't done any of that."
Whatever. No one cares if he ever got his dick sucked by a man. At least she doesn't care, anyway. Sexuality is all relative. So he doesn't have to sit there and defend that, or make it clear, or whatever.
Parker really doesn't like them sitting there discussing her slutty behavior in front of her. She doesn't like how it sounds. "Can you guys stop arguing?" she asks. She's pretty sure she's getting a headache. But they ignore her.
"I don't trust you with her," Hardison says flatly.
"Well clearly none of us can trust you with her either."
"STOP!" Parker yells, and they both turn to look at her. "You both can watch me if you want, just stop arguing. You're making my ears ring." She slaps the side of her head as if to prove a point, and shakes her head. The ringing was dulling now, but they're both looking at her like she's a bit crazy.
Maybe she is. But she needed to stop the ringing. It's like June bugs got in her ear and ran amok while hitting a gong.
And that's how that was for almost a week and a half. Eliot slept over, taking the shifts that Hardison couldn't do when he was asleep. She was good for that whole time though. Well, kind of. She did slip with masturbation multiple times, though Hardison did let her every once in awhile to make the pain stop. But it was only while Eliot was asleep, because they both knew Eliot would yell about it. He wouldn't understand. But she was good, really she was, mostly, for that whole week and a half time.
… Until her vagina overrode her good sense and she tried to take another ride on Eliot's dick.