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elrhiarhodanTitle: Something In Me (dark and sticky)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Elizabeth Mitchell, Peter Burke (Peter/Elizabeth), Fantasy OMC
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Beta Credit:coffeethyme4me
Summary: Elizabeth moves in with Peter and discovers something in their tiny bedroom closet that makes her very, very happy.
A/N: Some days are better than others, some days are not so hot. Some days you need to set aside the epic H/C and write smut. The triggering prompt for this was “A random collection of bad habits” from The Writer’s Book of Days. I was going to do a series of vignettes, but I got sidetracked by boykissing.
Title from Peter Gabriel’s song, Digging in the Dirt.
__________________
When they started seriously dating, Peter was always on his best behavior. He took care never to leave the toilet seat up, he changed his bed linens at least once a week and his towels on a daily basis. When El moved in, she discovered that Peter’s company manners were really just good habits. By the time Peter proposed, or to be truthful, by the time Elizabeth gently maneuvered Peter into proposing (or maybe she even asked him in a not so subtle fashion), it was clear that this man was thoroughly domesticated, perfect husband material.
Her mother, for whom the Summer of Love was not invented, shocked Elizabeth to silence when she recommended moving in with Peter before getting married.
“You’ll discover all his bad habits that way – and you’ll find out whether or not you can live with them. You’ll learn to be a good wife.”
Peter really didn’t have any bad habits. In fact, she wondered if Peter was going to become annoyed at any of her quirks. So, it was actually a relief when she made her great discovery.
Peter liked pornography.
She found his stash by accident. There was a box in the closet, in the admittedly miniscule bedroom closet, and she hadn’t intended to pry. But she needed some space and it was big and in the way and what was a box that size doing there anyway?
Of course she shouldn’t have looked – it could have been case files – it could have been anything.
But it wasn’t. It was…
Smut.
But not the kind she’d have suspected if she thought that Peter liked porn. There were magazines featuring men with really big dicks. Not women with impossibly huge boobs and hairless cunts.
Now Elizabeth Mitchell wasn’t some shy, wilting flower. For god’s sake, she worked in a downtown art gallery. Her first week there, she walked in on her boss and her boss’ lover and one of the gallery’s maintenance crew engaged in an act that would have gotten them arrested in Texas as of just a few years ago. Her last sublet was in Chelsea where the boys of all ages wore jeans so tight you could tell if they were circumcised. Walking in the neighborhood on a Saturday night was an education in public sexual display, and frankly, it never left her unaffected.
Okay, enough with the ladylike delusions. She was a kinky freak. Seeing two guys going at it always aroused her. The stuff she found in the box – the pictures – did the same.
It was pretty clear what Peter liked. Most of the magazines were dog-eared, page corners folded down to particular images. Big dicks, brunets, and kissing.
It was one thing to get turned on by random strangers. It was another thing to discover that your fiancé was into cock. El should have been worried that her husband-to-be was a closeted homosexual, she should have packed her bags and left. If she were like most - all - of her girlfriends, she have thrown Peter’s ring in his face and stormed out in high dudgeon.
But El wasn’t like her girlfriends. She was (though she’d yet to reveal this to Peter) a little strange. And maybe, given the evidence she’d just discovered, Peter was more compatible than she ever thought. What El wanted to know was did Peter do anything more than look at dirty pictures. And if he did, could she watch?
She lost track of time, sitting with her feet crossed, rocking back and forth as her arousal built. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She took one of her favorite magazines featuring a series of pictures of a slim, young brunet being kissed by an older man and climbed into bed.
The picture was just a starting point for her fantasy. Maybe the older man was Peter, and the young man was some criminal he caught. Maybe brunet had offered up sexual favors if Peter would keep him out of jail. Maybe Peter wanted to taste the goods.
Her fingers pinched her nipples and she tossed the magazine aside and cupped her pussy. She was wet, her moisture flowing like a fountain. It didn’t help – didn’t hurt – that the bed smelled of morning sex. She teased her clit and imagined Peter taking this man, kissing him until he was weak, pushing him to his knees, making him suck his cock, and he was so good at it.
She didn’t name the other man, but he was as real to her as Peter. He was a good man gone wrong and Peter wanted to help him, make him better than he was. And the only way he could do it was by fucking him. Owning him.
El’s imagination went wild. The other man was their slave, or maybe he was forced to work with Peter. When he did well, Peter brought him to their bed. She didn’t fuck him, but she’d help Peter. She’d prep his tight, tiny hole, she’d slick him up, she’d spank him, and then she’d watch.
When the other man was bad, Peter would ignore him, he’d plead and cry and abase himself before them. Maybe sometimes she’d abuse him, she’d use all sorts of sex toys on him. But not plugs because he’d enjoy that too much. No, she’d clamp his nipples, his scrotum, everything linked to a tight leather strap around his cock.
Her fingers danced and paddled in her wetness, three and four fingers shoved up her cunt, her thumb torturing her clit. She could hear herself grunting, but with her eyes closed, those were the sounds that man made as Peter sodomized him.
Elizabeth came in a great, screaming rush; it felt so damn good after all that build up. The only thing that would make it better is if she could have a cock now. Her heart slowed down and she pulled out her fingers, wiping them first on her belly, then the sheets. As her senses came back to earth, something seemed different. Her eyes opened and slowly focused on the figure standing next to the bed.
Peter.
He had that magazine in his hand, a hesitant smile on his face and a massive boner in his pants.
El smiled back, holding up her silver-slicked fingers. Peter took them, brought them to his mouth and licked them clean. He sucked on her thumb, sending a frisson of fresh arousal through her. Her nipples tightened, becoming impossibly hard.
She was going to be the best wife ever.
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Elizabeth Mitchell, Peter Burke (Peter/Elizabeth), Fantasy OMC
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Beta Credit:
coffeethyme4meSummary: Elizabeth moves in with Peter and discovers something in their tiny bedroom closet that makes her very, very happy.
A/N: Some days are better than others, some days are not so hot. Some days you need to set aside the epic H/C and write smut. The triggering prompt for this was “A random collection of bad habits” from The Writer’s Book of Days. I was going to do a series of vignettes, but I got sidetracked by boykissing.
Title from Peter Gabriel’s song, Digging in the Dirt.
When they started seriously dating, Peter was always on his best behavior. He took care never to leave the toilet seat up, he changed his bed linens at least once a week and his towels on a daily basis. When El moved in, she discovered that Peter’s company manners were really just good habits. By the time Peter proposed, or to be truthful, by the time Elizabeth gently maneuvered Peter into proposing (or maybe she even asked him in a not so subtle fashion), it was clear that this man was thoroughly domesticated, perfect husband material.
Her mother, for whom the Summer of Love was not invented, shocked Elizabeth to silence when she recommended moving in with Peter before getting married.
“You’ll discover all his bad habits that way – and you’ll find out whether or not you can live with them. You’ll learn to be a good wife.”
Peter really didn’t have any bad habits. In fact, she wondered if Peter was going to become annoyed at any of her quirks. So, it was actually a relief when she made her great discovery.
Peter liked pornography.
She found his stash by accident. There was a box in the closet, in the admittedly miniscule bedroom closet, and she hadn’t intended to pry. But she needed some space and it was big and in the way and what was a box that size doing there anyway?
Of course she shouldn’t have looked – it could have been case files – it could have been anything.
But it wasn’t. It was…
Smut.
But not the kind she’d have suspected if she thought that Peter liked porn. There were magazines featuring men with really big dicks. Not women with impossibly huge boobs and hairless cunts.
Now Elizabeth Mitchell wasn’t some shy, wilting flower. For god’s sake, she worked in a downtown art gallery. Her first week there, she walked in on her boss and her boss’ lover and one of the gallery’s maintenance crew engaged in an act that would have gotten them arrested in Texas as of just a few years ago. Her last sublet was in Chelsea where the boys of all ages wore jeans so tight you could tell if they were circumcised. Walking in the neighborhood on a Saturday night was an education in public sexual display, and frankly, it never left her unaffected.
Okay, enough with the ladylike delusions. She was a kinky freak. Seeing two guys going at it always aroused her. The stuff she found in the box – the pictures – did the same.
It was pretty clear what Peter liked. Most of the magazines were dog-eared, page corners folded down to particular images. Big dicks, brunets, and kissing.
It was one thing to get turned on by random strangers. It was another thing to discover that your fiancé was into cock. El should have been worried that her husband-to-be was a closeted homosexual, she should have packed her bags and left. If she were like most - all - of her girlfriends, she have thrown Peter’s ring in his face and stormed out in high dudgeon.
But El wasn’t like her girlfriends. She was (though she’d yet to reveal this to Peter) a little strange. And maybe, given the evidence she’d just discovered, Peter was more compatible than she ever thought. What El wanted to know was did Peter do anything more than look at dirty pictures. And if he did, could she watch?
She lost track of time, sitting with her feet crossed, rocking back and forth as her arousal built. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She took one of her favorite magazines featuring a series of pictures of a slim, young brunet being kissed by an older man and climbed into bed.
The picture was just a starting point for her fantasy. Maybe the older man was Peter, and the young man was some criminal he caught. Maybe brunet had offered up sexual favors if Peter would keep him out of jail. Maybe Peter wanted to taste the goods.
Her fingers pinched her nipples and she tossed the magazine aside and cupped her pussy. She was wet, her moisture flowing like a fountain. It didn’t help – didn’t hurt – that the bed smelled of morning sex. She teased her clit and imagined Peter taking this man, kissing him until he was weak, pushing him to his knees, making him suck his cock, and he was so good at it.
She didn’t name the other man, but he was as real to her as Peter. He was a good man gone wrong and Peter wanted to help him, make him better than he was. And the only way he could do it was by fucking him. Owning him.
El’s imagination went wild. The other man was their slave, or maybe he was forced to work with Peter. When he did well, Peter brought him to their bed. She didn’t fuck him, but she’d help Peter. She’d prep his tight, tiny hole, she’d slick him up, she’d spank him, and then she’d watch.
When the other man was bad, Peter would ignore him, he’d plead and cry and abase himself before them. Maybe sometimes she’d abuse him, she’d use all sorts of sex toys on him. But not plugs because he’d enjoy that too much. No, she’d clamp his nipples, his scrotum, everything linked to a tight leather strap around his cock.
Her fingers danced and paddled in her wetness, three and four fingers shoved up her cunt, her thumb torturing her clit. She could hear herself grunting, but with her eyes closed, those were the sounds that man made as Peter sodomized him.
Elizabeth came in a great, screaming rush; it felt so damn good after all that build up. The only thing that would make it better is if she could have a cock now. Her heart slowed down and she pulled out her fingers, wiping them first on her belly, then the sheets. As her senses came back to earth, something seemed different. Her eyes opened and slowly focused on the figure standing next to the bed.
Peter.
He had that magazine in his hand, a hesitant smile on his face and a massive boner in his pants.
El smiled back, holding up her silver-slicked fingers. Peter took them, brought them to his mouth and licked them clean. He sucked on her thumb, sending a frisson of fresh arousal through her. Her nipples tightened, becoming impossibly hard.
She was going to be the best wife ever.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-07-31 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:11 pm (UTC)Thank you so very much - and yes, Neal is there - even if Elizabeth and Peter don't know it yet.
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 12:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:11 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 12:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:13 pm (UTC)I can see it...
Can you wedge a few more hours into my day so I can write this?
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:14 pm (UTC)Poor Neal's not going to know quite what hit him!
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:31 am (UTC)Also, I love El's Chelsea apartment experience. I spent my college years walking around the West Village on pretty days, watching the half-dressed hot guys cruising each other. :D
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 06:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:15 pm (UTC)I too remember, back in the (gasp!) early '80s - walking around the West Village - and enjoying all the semi-nekkid cruising.
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 06:29 am (UTC)Win! Thank you! :D
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:19 pm (UTC)Just realized...I need a "Best Wife Ever" icon!
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 12:16 pm (UTC)this was amazing, really hot, really good. i love el's characterization. <3
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 03:12 pm (UTC)And YAY for precognitive Neal!!!! I loved that!!! \o/ I vote for that ten years later fic, too!
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 03:47 pm (UTC)I think it's pretty damn canonical that El has special awesome wifely powers, and why not include planting the seeds of her husband's obsession with a certain blue-eye'd brunet a few years down the road. Because you know that she's going to share that fantasy with Peter, and they are going to break the bed.
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 03:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 04:15 pm (UTC)This was fantastic. I always get excited when I see you've posted something new. This was no exception and thoroughly enjoyable.
Now, if you'll excuse me...
no subject
Date: 2012-08-01 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-02 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-02 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-03 12:52 pm (UTC)