They were sitting on the couch, Leith clad in one of Eliot's sweatpants and a wife-beater –not the clothes he would usually use, but they were comfy–, his back against the armrest, his feet under the elder's left thigh and both reading a book. They decided that they would call it a stay-at-home day, to reconnect and stuff.

Leith looked at him, from his position he could only see his profile and he smirked before setting the book down and in a quick and fluid movement he had grabbed Eliot's book, set it next to his and sat on his lap. The American blinked before he wrapped an arm around his waist and held him closer to his body.

"What you thinking, sweetheart?" He asked as his teeth grazed the neck softly.

"Just that you look so much better with long hair." Chapman replied back before grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging a bit to make Eliot throw his head back a bit.

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh. Fits you better. And you look so much sexy this way. And highlights your eyes." The Scottish replied before kissing him hungrily, being kissed with just as much passion as he was pouring into it.

Eliot chuckled in the kiss and then pinned him against the cushions, his hands going to his ass to squeeze hard. Leith moaned into his mouth and then wrapped his legs around his waist to pull him closer. God, he had missed that so much. The ferocity Eliot possessed was something that not everyone could have and minister as he did. One of his hands started to get under the American's shirt when Spencer's cell phone rang.

Growling and reluctantly Eliot pulled away, smirking when he saw the red lips Leith had and the lust-clouded eyes. He dropped a quick kiss on his lips before he reached for the phone.

"What?" He growled, as he started to tease Leith through the sweatpants, the man's eyes fluttering close at the feeling.

"Is everything ok?" Hardison asked.

"Yeah. More than ok." He grinned at Chapman, who was starting to squirm under his administrations.

"He at your place?"

"He is."

There was a moment of silence before the hacker spoke again. "When do we get to meet him?"

Eliot grumbled something under his breath that made Leith chuckle as he propped in his elbows. "Tomorrow. And do not call again unless it is a life or death matter." And after that, he hung up and let himself fall over Leith, who let his breath go.

"Everything alright El?" The Scottish asked, his accent so different from the hitter's own. Eliot used to make fun of Sophie because of her accent, but he loved Leith's one.

"Uh-huh. We are going to meet them tomorrow." He replied as he moved to kiss his neck again.

"We have the whole day for us, then?"

"We do. Why? Is there something you wanna do?" Eliot asked.

"For starters, you could keep doing what you were doing. And I need to buy some clothes." Leith said, his hands, opened, caressing the strong arms.

Eliot growled at the last sentence as he sat down on his heels. He had gone shopping with him before and he wasn't better than a woman. Maybe he could send him with Sophie tomorrow, enjoy their stay-at-home day.

"What for?" He asked, playing dumb as he started stroke the strong thighs.

"You want me to meet your crew naked?" Leith asked back, grinning mischievously.

"Hell no." Spencer growled possessively before claiming his lips in a bruising kiss. "But you can use some of my clothes."

"El, you know your clothes are too big for me." He admonished. "Trousers could fit, but if even a wife beater hangs like that, one of your shirts will make me look fatter. Besides, you don't have suits." He pointed out and Eliot growled low in his throat. He never understood why did he like so much to wear suits.

"You know I'm a terrible companion when it comes to shopping. Maybe you could go with Sophie tomorrow?" He suggested and Leith looked at him, interrogative eyes.

"Who the hell is Sophie?" Leith asked. Eliot tended to forget that not always he knew everyone he did know.

"Oh. Sophie Devereaux, she is one of my tem mates." His hands started to rub circles just above the hem of the trousers when they were batted away. "What?"

The European sat up, as much as he could, considering that Eliot was still between his legs and didn't seem to have any thought of moving from there.

"Sophie Devereaux? The world-famous grifter?" He asked, his eyes opened wide.

"Yeah?" He nodded, his hands going back to the slightly smaller body.

Leith lay down again; arching an eyebrow as he also started to explore the already known body, lazily. "Who else is in your crew?" He asked.

"Nathan Ford."

"The insurance guy that almost got us in Lyon?"

"Uh-huh. Long story. Our hacker is Hardison and out thief… Parker." He finished.

"Parker? You mean 'Crazy Parker'?"

"Yeah. And if you thought she was crazy without having properly met her, you are going to think that she is freaking insane when you get to meet her better." He chuckled. "And enough talking about them. I have far more interesting ideas I would like to focus on."

"Oh yeah? Like what luaidh?" He grinned, as he took the shirt off and licked his lips at the view.

"Kissing you. Licking you. Nipping you. Blowing you." Eliot muttered as he kissed him again.

Leith chuckled in the kiss as he kissed back, his hands tangled in the thick mahogany mane. He let Eliot pull his shirt off and he groaned when calloused fingertips rubbed his nipples.

Eliot had never been into foreplay. Hell, he wasn't either. In jobs like theirs, where you could be called at any second, you learned that time was precious, especially if you were with your significant other. The British nipped at the strong neck and sucked vigorously as he started to grind against Eliot.

They could both feel their respective sweatpants grow tighter in the crotch, not being highly uncomfortable since they were quite loose.

They both growled powerfully when their erections rubbed together. Spencer pressed his pelvis down harder, increasing the delicious pressure between their trapped members. Chapman let go one hand and let it travel down to the hitter's arse to squeeze hard, just like he had done before. Eliot broke the kiss to groan, out of pleasure.

Their lips locked on each other's necks, suckling until leaving love bites all over it, lapping it if their teeth had sunk to deep, their hands started roaming over each other's body, needy, but never trying to get the pants off. They increased their speed to the point the sofa was rattling. Not that they particularly cared.

With a quick movement, Leith changed their positions, being him the one in top; he straddled the hitter and started moving again faster, his lips attached to one of the nipples while he could feel a hand teasing his right one mercilessly. And when Eliot pulled him up and bit the juncture of his neck and shoulder, before he was conscious of it, all he saw was white, his skin burning and his pants getting damp. His hands were gripping the wide shoulders, probably leaving ten bruises in them.

Eliot was looking at him, enchanted. Leith was handsome yes, even pretty, but when he was coming, he was freaking gorgeous. Eyes half-lidded, plush pink lips, sweaty… Yeah, just gorgeous. He stirred a bit, still rock-hard and Leith let out a soft moan.

Chapman let himself fall on Eliot, trying to even his breathing when he talked. "Give me a minute and I will take care of that, luaidh." He said as he left some kisses along his jaw line.

"Leith…" He moaned, shifting, trying to rub his still covered cock against him, or anything, for the matter.

It took the British another minute to regain his composure before he smirked and yanked the pants and underwear down, licking his lips lustfully when he saw the hard-rock cock in front of him, leaking, looking delicious. He put his hands on the other man's hips to prevent him to thrust up and choke him (he knew that the hitter never meant to hurt him, but his thrusts were powerful and did hurt his throat a little) and started to lick the hard shaft, smiling to himself when he heard the Southerner whimper.

Eliot was no submissive at first hand. If you wanted him like this, all needy and wanton he had to trust you. But to trust you with his whole being, not just a bit, he needed to know that you would not take more than he was giving. And Leith was just fine with that because he was the same way. That's why they complimented the other so well, because they knew what the other needed and how he wanted it.

And right now, Eliot wanted to be brought to the edge, so he kept licking and kissing, driving the hitter mad until he was writhing, whimpering and pleading. And he always pleaded so sweetly.

"Leith… Leith please… I ne-need…" A moan impeded him to finish the sentence and, the Scottish, taking pity of him, started to swallow around the head, lowering his head slowly until he had all of the hitter inside his mouth.

He smirked, he was glad he had lost his gag reflex long time ago.

He started bobbing his head, grazing the shaft with his teeth in his way up: if he recalled correctly, Eliot loved when he did that. And by the soft moans he was hearing, he still did. He felt a hand tugging at his short hair and he sucked even more. It was long until he heard a long growl and harder tug.

Eliot never verbalise his orgasm, just growls and tugs, maybe some scratching on his arms, gripping the sheets… Only in some really rare occasions he did, and probably Chapman could count them with a single hand

He cleaned him with soft kicks before he kissed him softly on the lips. Spencer groaned when he tasted himself in his lover's mouth.

Eliot was breathing hard and fast while Chapman put his pants back on place and siled softly I him.

"Can I get another ones, please?" He asked, nuzzling his neck.

"Sure sweetheart." He pecked his lips and lay there for some more minutes, regaining control of his heartbeat and breathing, enjoying the afterglow and the soft kisses that were being pressed on his neck. When he was fine again he stood up and extended a hand to him. "We should take a shower."

Leith took his hand and followed him to the bathroom; they peeled off their clothes and turned the shower on, waiting for the water to be warm enough and once it was at the right temperature they stepped inside.

They stood there for about an hour, trading kisses and hands roaming over the other's skin, with no aim of push it further.

It wasn't long until they were on the sofa, only this time Eliot was sitting on the floor while Chapman dried his hair with a towel and then brushed the messy curls lovingly.

"Luaidh?"

"Hm?" Eliot loved when his hair was being stroked or combed. It was something he only let the people really close to him, someone he really cared about. Like his momma. Like Leith.

"I knew you would come for me." He said, not letting the hitter turn around to face him.

"W-what? How?" How could he know that he was going to go for him if he himself didn't even know?

"Well, Moreau did not call the ambulance because he thought I was dead, none of your teammates would have either and of course, they would have not given the name 'James Chapman'." He said.

Spencer chuckled: of course. He did call the ambulance and he told them that the man that was alive was called 'James Chapman'. For any other person, it would have just been a move to stall the police but for them, it was something else; they were in London, running a con to get a piece of art for Moreau and they were using aliases: He was Mark Spencer and Leith… James Chapman. Now, this wouldn't be a special thing, they had been using aliases for almost all of their lives, but it had been that time, under those aliases, that they had their first kiss.

It was there, being Mark and James, where everything began for them.

Funny thing is that he didn't even really realised what giving that name to the hospital emergency guys implied.

Eliot chuckled and then turned around, smiled at him, stood up and kissed him again. "I'm so happy you are here again. With me." He whispered.

"So am I, luaidh, so I am." The Scottish replied and nuzzled his chest.