Author: Sapphire Smoke
Beta: supershineygirl on LJ
Summary: Eliot had never hesitated in taking what he wanted.
Eliot had never hesitated in taking what he wanted.
It was probably cause of that 'you only live once and fuck it, you might die tomorrow' mindset he had due to his line of work. When you're putting your ass on the line constantly you gotta be prepared that each fight might be your last. You can't predict everything; can't factor in every variable. You can sure as hell try, but nothing's ever written in stone. Live to fight and fight to live. It's all about control, something that he's mastered throughout the years.
There's always moments where he seems like he's letting go, letting down his walls and living in the moment, but it's all an illusion. Always know your exits, always expect the unexpected, and never allow someone else to hold dominion over you. Act as a team but always be aware that when it comes down to you or the other guy, everyone's always out for themselves; it's survival in its most basic form.
Tomorrow wasn't guaranteed because of that, and that's why he didn't hesitate in taking what he wanted, and right then, he was pretty sure that he wanted her.
Leggy, dauntless, and all woman; Tara Cole was something that sparked his interest. With her leather, knee high boots, low cut shirts, and tussled hair, she radiated sex and power all rolled in one and it was intoxicating. She's more than meets the eye and yet she hid her true form well. Secretive, cocky, daring; the type the pushed the envelope and didn't give a damn about the consequences. It was sexy and it wasn't something he was gonna let just walk outta here once Sophie finally got her head outta her ass, at least not without getting a taste first.
He's not a womanizer and it wasn't about owning her. No, he'd be stupid if he ever thought he could own something of that magnitude. Sex wasn't ever about owning anyone anyway, at least not for Eliot. It was a release, but it was also something that reminded him that he was human. Sometimes he forgot; the blood and the violence could strip people of their humanity, so you tried to save the shreds you had left intact. It was a connection, but not in that girly way (he'll never believe the term 'soul mate' for as long as he's breathing – humans aren't meant to be monogamous). More like feeling that you're really there, that today really is happening and it ain't in your head. Sometimes shit goes down and it feels surreal; like a dream. He's seen and done more than anyone could even imagine. So yeah, there were moments where he just needed to feel.
Tara's as much a physical being as he was; feeling no attachments to another person besides what they physically had to offer. He didn't know her story but he was pretty sure it was just as colorful as his. He's sure because of how she reacted to him and his unspoken offer. She's been trained to notice things beyond the instinctual, beyond what the eyes can see and the mouth can speak. She knew the second he came up to her what it was that he wanted and he didn't even have to speak a word.
"Where?" was all she asked him, as if it was as casual as asking about the weather. She turned to him as she spoke, crossing her legs and picking her shot up off of the bar. She didn't drink it though, she just held it up, an elbow propped on the counter as she raised an eyebrow at him, almost like a dare. Eliot felt like he was being tested.
A hint of a smirk played at her lips before she brought the shot to them and downed her liquor. She put the empty glass back on the table before she responded, "Good answer," and looking over at him to catch his eye.
She slid out of her chair, her heels clicking against the floor. She didn't turn around to look at him; she just walked straight out the door, Eliot following behind her. She stopped outside, her hands searching her jacket pockets before she pulled out a pack of Newports and a lighter. She placed one between her lips and sparked the flame, inhaling deeply before releasing the hold her lips had around it. When she exhaled, she said, "Fucked up day." The white smoke billowed around her before rising to the sky above them.
"About sums it up," Eliot responded as he leaned against the wall. But they weren't going to get into it. Job didn't go as planned and everyone's tension and aggression was running high. Release was needed, maybe some control, and that's why he knew Tara wasn't going to question what was about to happen. She accepted life as it was; the good and the bad. He looked at her, watching the pull of her lips as she took long drags of her cigarette. "Shit's gonna kill ya one day."
She smirked, amused by his sentiment. "So will our line of work," she responded. She took another pull before flicking the half finished cigarette into the street. "Where's your car? Got about an hour," she told him.
"Does it matter?" she asked, looking over at him. He shrugged; he didn't care one way or the other. Tara was her own person. But he had to know:
"Is it gonna fuck with the team?"
"Then it don't matter to me," Eliot told her before pushing himself off the wall. He took one more look at her before he walked past her, knowing she'd follow. They rounded the corner to the parking lot and he spotted his four door pick up in the middle of the mostly deserted area. When he got to it he went to open the driver's side door but Tara put her hand on it once it opened a couple inches and pushed, closing it.
"Get in the back seat," she told him, her hand firmly planted on the door. "We aren't going anywhere."
"Exhibitionist?" he questioned with a smirk.
"Cut for time."
Eliot didn't care where they did it. He also didn't care about how impersonal it was between them. They had an unspoken but mutual understanding about the situation. It was selfish on both parts; using each other to find a way to relieve the tension and dull the agitation about the fucked up day they both had. So Eliot opened the door to the backseat and said, "Hop in."
But Tara smirked, amused, before she chuckled a little and pushed him back into it himself before climbing in after him. "I top," she told him with a naughty grin.
"In your fuckin' dreams," Eliot told her as he started to sit up. But the backseat was small and it was a tight fit as it was. He couldn't flip them without one of them banging their foreheads on the window or the ceiling and well, Tara on top of him really wasn't the worst sight in the world. She just laughed a little at his defiance, closing the door behind them before moving to straddle his waist. Her skirt rode up past her thighs and he could feel her wetness through the thin material of her panties.
"I think you're the one that's dreaming," was all she said to him with a smirk (one that let him know that she'd already won before the games had even begun) right before her lips collided with his in a passionate kiss.
Tara wasn't some kind of delicate flower, though Eliot had known that before he even ended up in this position with her. So it didn't surprise him that she took to him like she did her work; fast, precise, and determined to be leaving with the big haul. Her lips bruised his with the sheer force passion and desperation behind them, her tongue fighting for dominance while Eliot's hands pulled at the material of her clothing. She sat up a little to grab the hem of her shirt and peel it from her body, a quick flick of her fingers making her bra come loose right as she shrugged it about halfway down her shoulders.
Eliot grabbed the strap and pulled the confinements away from her skin, growling at the sight of her so-perfect-they-obviously-aren't-real breasts. His eyes darkened with lust as she grabbed his belt, pulling at it expertly as her other hand flicked the button on his jeans, undoing it. Eliot leaned up quickly and his lips collided with hers again, his hands wandering to her ass to pull her flush against his rapidly hardening cock. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt the bulge of his jeans press against the dampness of her panties and she grabbed a fist full of his hair as she let her tongue explore the inner depths of the hitter's mouth.
Tara's skin was silky smooth with the exceptions of a few tough, raised scars. Battle wounds, lessons that were learned, or maybe just a reminder of events past. Eliot's body was littered with those too and he knew better than to ask or to let his fingers linger too long on them. His strong hands slid up her toned thighs and he could feel the heat radiating from her the closer he gets to his destination. His lips fell to her shoulder, his teeth sinking into her flesh just enough to earn him a gasp and a quick pull of his hair. But he trailed his tongue over it, up to her jugular as he sucked the tender flesh enough to get the point across but not enough to leave a mark.
When his hand reached her damp panties he pressed against her clit, making the grifter emit a moan as her hands wandered over every inch of his chest, pushing his shirt up so finally she could touch some skin. Her nails dug into his torso once he slipped his hand past the confinements of her underwear, coming in contact with the heat of her desire. His fingers slid between her slick folds, spreading her and gathering some of her arousal before placing his digits back on her clit. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes and he chuckled, his warm breath tickling her neck.
"You a screamer?" he asked gruffly, his low voice almost a rumble.
Tara stifled a moan as he applied more pressure before she opened her eyes and looked at him. "What do you think?" Her nails dug into his skin more as he teased her, but she never once broke eye contact.
Tara was a lot of things, but she wasn't overtly obvious or loud. She was a grifter, her whole identity and life is shrouded in secrecy, so she wouldn't want to do anything that ever drew too much attention. "No," he said. He didn't think she was.
"Well you'll find out," she told him before groaning softly as he slid one finger into the depths of her, feeling her walls clench to draw him in deeper. His palm applied pressure to her clit while their lips met again in another heated kiss. As he worked her up she started panting against his lips softly, kissing forgotten. She looked him straight in the eye, needing to aware of everything that's going on; the sex, their position, their surroundings. Peripheral vision accounts for a lot. Not enough, but much more than letting down your defenses when your eyes are shut tightly closed.
Tara gasped again as he slid a second finger into her, opening her up for him. Tara's patience bordered on nonexistent once she started pulling at his jeans as he pleasured her. He paused, only for a second, to lift himself up so she could slide the material down his legs. She took his boxers down with the jeans to avoid anymore interruptions and when he started up his tantalizing tease again, she chose that moment to grasp his dick in her hand and start stroking his shaft with all the skilled precision of a person who knows how to get what they want.
He grunted at the feeling before slipping a third finger past her panties and inside of her, making Tara shift her position on top of him so that her legs fell open to him, giving him more room to work. Their labored breathing was the only thing that could be heard in the stillness of the night and with each passing minute they began to feel the heat that their bodies were making as it filled the small space of the car, making the windows have a light hint of sheen.
Eliot could feel Tara's heavy breath against his lips and he kissed her again; lips, tongue, teeth colliding in a fierce battle. But Tara pulled away quickly, her breathing labored, lust and desire darkening her eyes before she took his hand in hers and pulled it away from the center of her legs. He didn't miss the contact, but only because he knew what was coming. "Glove compartment," he told her; the answer to her unspoken question. He watched as she leaned up between the seats, bending over and giving him a nice view of her pussy from behind as she opened up the glove compartment and grab what she needed.
Tara tore the package of the condom with her teeth as she settled back down on top of him. The hunger was fierce and dominant in her eyes and she unrolled it down his shaft slowly, never once breaking eye contact as a hint of a tease tugged at the edges of her lips. But once it was fully around him, he was done with the games. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her down to him, holding her there as his tongue explored her mouth again. She moaned softly as he bit her lower lip, making her shift against him in anticipation. Her panties were beyond damp; now they were bordering on soaked, even bunched up to the side as they were. He let one of her wrists go to grab his shaft, positioning himself at her opening.
"Fuck me, Eliot," she panted out against his lips before he slid into her quickly, making her cry out. She muffled it in his shoulder though and Eliot was right about her trying not to be loud, which he hasn't doubted for a second. He could feel her walls adjust to the feel of him inside of her and he thrust into her, making her whimper against his neck. "Fuck," she breathes out. Her hot breath makes his hairs stand on end and he grasps her backside, pulling her flush against him before he starts slamming in and out of her with no remorse or time for her to properly prepare.
She might be the one on top, but he's still running the show.
Tara seems to get that now as all she can do is hang onto him, the force in which he's moving making it comparable to trying to hang onto a mechanical bull. She's whimpering with each skilled pump of his hips, swearing every other, and possibly trying to draw blood from his arm the way she's sunk her claws into him. The air is heavy with the scent of sweat and sex and the windows are far past fogged by now. "Oh god, oh fuck," she breathes quietly, trying to stay aware but is failing as she fast approaches the peak.
Skin slapped against skin and Eliot grunted and swore as he felt her contract around him tightly, drawing him in impossibly more. "Jesus you're so tight," he told her through his own labored breathing, just needing to voice his appreciation on the subject. Tara didn't answer him, at least not in so many words. But she groaned again before her lips met his, needing his mouth to muffle her cries as her walls started spasming around his cock; her orgasm starting to build from the depths of her core and to fuel his drive head on over the cliff by each twitch of her slick inner muscles.
He came with no more than a grunt and her no more than a whimper; both of them not big on vocal explanations of a thing so simple yet so powerful. She collapsed against him, both of their sticky skin from the heat of the experience sliding against each other as they both came down from the high. He could still feel her small inner spasms and it made him groan in appreciation of the feeling. They laid there for a moment, both spent.
When Tara sat up she let him slide out of her and he discarded the condom in the bag he uses for trash. She fixed her panties before grabbing her bra and shirt, and they both dressed without a word. It was moments after, when they were both clothed again that she gave him a smile. "Thanks."
"Pleasure's all mine, darlin'" he told her with a grin. She climbed off of him and opened the car door, the cool night a blessing from the radiating heat that had become the inside of his vehicle. They both stepped out into the night and she fixed her clothing, running her fingers through her hair to shake out the knots.
"I gotta run," she told him. "But I appreciate the…" cue smirk, "release."
"You gonna be alright?" he asked, needing to know. He doesn't want to know the extent of her job, but he can tell by the way that she presented it, that it's something personal.
"Will be when I'm done."
He nodded and she turned away, starting to walk through the dimly lit parking lot towards wherever her destination laid. "Hey," he called out to her, making her turn around. He could see her questioning gaze at being called back. "Be careful," he told her. He smirked, leaning against his truck. "Don't wanna have to bail your ass out on my night off."
She looked amused, but grateful at the same time. "I can take care of myself."
He knows she can. Tara Cole was a force to be reckoned with, but he still couldn't help but worry just a little bit for the woman that had become an extended part of his team… and an interesting highlight to his night.