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elrhiarhodanA Life More Ordinary – Part Five
Neal was starting to worry. Friday and it was five days since his lunch with Elizabeth, nearly a week after that momentous morning with Peter, but he hadn’t heard from either Burke.
He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done wrong. Or whether they had changed their minds. Peter had promised that he’d talk with Elizabeth, Elizabeth had told him that she’d given Peter the green light. And that the two of them could be friends – platonic for the moment, but the possibility was there for something more down the line.
It was easy to avoid thinking about their absence when he was treating a gassy Pomeranian or a Newfoundland puppy who ate his owners’ car keys, but as he locked up each night, he found himself waiting for Peter and Satchmo, but neither of them arrived and he walked home, alone.
The first night, he passed by the Burke’s house and didn’t see the living room light on. They weren’t home and he didn’t think twice about it. The second night, the light was on, he could see the silhouettes of people - a man and a woman - that he didn’t recognize. Neal he didn’t stop, although he wanted to. Stopping by when Peter and Elizabeth clearly had company would be weird and intrusive.
The third night, he could see that the light was on; he could see the silhouette of Peter sitting on the couch and Elizabeth moving around. Neal made it halfway up the front steps before stopping and turning around and going back to the street. If they really wanted to see him, they would have called.
So he headed home, feeling more than a little sorry for himself. Moz was in the living room, drinking and working on something, but Neal just waved and headed up to his bedroom for a good long sulk.
Back in the early summer, when he was actively dodging them, Neal had walk a half-dozen blocks out of the way to avoid walking past Peter and Elizabeth’s house. That was the route he took last night, and tonight he figured he’d take that way home again. Seeing their house, seeing them, but not being wanted, hurt.
Donna and Mike had left for the day. It was after six - actually almost closer to seven - and it was well past the time to go home. Consulting hours were long over and he’d taken care of the animals that were overnighting, he’d fed The Demon Creature, finished annotating all of the day’s charts, and he could find absolutely no reason to stay here.
Neal couldn’t help but contrast this to last Friday night, when he was looking forward to his first official "date" with Peter and Elizabeth, or the weekend before, when the Burkes were coming over for brunch. And even the weekend before that, when he and Peter had gotten together to watch the last Yankee game of the regular baseball season. Somehow, for some reason, he has no contact with the Burkes since Monday and he had to wonder and worry …
It was stupid, he was being stupid. It wasn’t like he lived with them, or that the spent hours on the phone talking, or that they were like teenagers, constantly texting. Before last weekend, days would go by without a phone call or a text or an email. Except that just about every night he was working, Peter and Satchmo would show up and escort him home.
Neal tried not to feel like such a teenager, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but wonder where he’d gone wrong, what mistakes he made. It must have been the lunch with Elizabeth, he must have somehow offended her, and this was their way of letting him know that he’d been out of line.
But maybe this was payback, punishment, the karma debt for his bad choices.
Neal stopped. No, that was not how the Burkes behaved. If they were unhappy with him, they’d let him know in no uncertain terms. They’d tell him. They didn’t play those games. Peter and Elizabeth were nothing like Matthew. They cared about him.
Neal took a deep breath and made up his mind. It was early enough that he could stop by without being intrusive. He doubled checked the animals, smiled at The Demon Creature, who was perched on top of a filing cabinet. The cat hissed back at him. He turned out the lights and opened the front door.
To find Peter standing here with his hand raised to knock, Satchmo sitting at his feet, at least until he saw Neal. The Lab jumped up, trying to give Neal a doggie kiss, but Peter firmly tugged on the leash and Satch gave a little bark before sitting back down.
Peter smiled and reached out for him. "I get to kiss you first."
And he did just that. He kissed the stuffing out of him and Neal clung to those broad shoulder because he went all but boneless as the kiss went on and on.
Finally, Peter stepped back, licking his lips, which looked just a bit swollen under the streetlights. "Hey there. Missed you."
Neal blinked, feeling a little disoriented and a lot happy. "Missed you, too."
This time, Satchmo wasn’t going to be denied. He took advantage of his master’s distraction, leaping up to put his paws on Neal’s chest and tried to lick his face.
"Down, boy." Peter’s tone was firm and brooked no disobedience. The dog sat and panted and looked at Neal with expectant eyes.
"You’re doing it just right. You’re letting him know who’s in charge." But Neal couldn’t help but reward Satchmo for his improved behavior and got down on one knee to pet him. It was a strange vantage point and Neal was struck by an absurd but almost profound desire to serve Peter. It wasn’t the first time he had that feeling.
There was a look in Peter’s eyes, or it might have been the streetlights, but Neal thought he saw approval there, understanding, and of course, desire.
Neal got to his feet and they started walking towards home.
"Sorry that I haven’t been around this week. I should have been by last night. Was planning to."
"I was a little worried." Neal was grateful that Peter raised the subject. He was still feeling too insecure. "Everything all right?"
Peter shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
"You guess?"
They walked and Peter took his time answering. "I found out some troubling things on Monday and I’m still working through them." Peter sounded sad and even a little lost, but not angry.
"Anything you can tell me?"
Peter sighed. "I learned that another agent has been ‘temporarily’ assigned to run my department."
"What? Why?"
"It’s complicated."
Neal knew better than to press, but he was dying to. Peter was so obviously upset. "Do you know him?"
"Her, and yes. Our paths crossed once or twice. She’s extremely ambitious and I think she’s going to try and make it a permanent assignment."
"And where does that leave you?" As soon as he asked, Neal regretted it.
"I don’t know. I can’t seem to get any decent indication when I’ll be allowed to return to work. I thought I’d have been cleared for desk work by now, but no one’s willing to sign off on that."
Neal had a million other questions, but didn’t ask them and they walked in silence down DeKalb, pausing every few feet to let Satchmo do his business. Still, it didn’t take long before they stopped in front of Peter’s house. It was dark, which was unusual - at least it seemed unusual to Neal.
"Look, um - would you like to come in? El’s got a thing tonight and I’d like your company."
Neal blinked. Peter’s offer was a study in diffidence. How different he was from the man who said hello and kissed him like he was the only thing in the universe that mattered. But he grinned and played it casual. "You cooking?"
Peter smiled back. "Nah, I was thinking Chinese. You up for some Mu Shu and a couple of bottles of Tsingtao?"
"Make mine General Tso’s, extra spicy, and I’m in." Neal didn’t bother to wait for Peter as he climbed up the front steps. Which was kind of foolish, since everything was locked up and he had to wait for Peter anyway. But Peter wasn’t that far behind him, and if he climbed the stairs a little slower than he had the last few times Neal had seen him, Neal wasn’t going to comment.
They ordered dinner, fed Satchmo and made light, pointless conversation until Mr. Ping from Happy Family dropped off the order. Afterwards, they headed over to the couch with some beer - not the promised Tsingtao (that was somehow left out of the delivery), but Peter’s much-loved down market Heisler. Neal sat down, figuring that Peter would take the other end, but was shocked and delighted when the man dropped down next to him, so close they were touching from hip to knee. He didn’t need to resist the urge to lean into Peter, because Peter made resistance futile. He draped an arm over his shoulder and pulled him close.
"You okay?"
Neal didn’t answer, he just leaned his head against Peter’s shoulder and let out a contented sigh.
"I guess that means yes."
"Mmm." The position was awkward, but Neal turned his head and pressed a kiss against Peter’s jaw. "Very much ‘okay’. I’ve really missed you this week." Neal stopped, wondering if that was too much. Too revealing. Too needy.
But if it was, Peter didn’t seem to mind. "Missed you, too. It was a complicated week. I should have called or texted."
Neal had a minor epiphany. "And I could have called you, too."
Peter gave a snort of a chuckle and Neal loved the way the vibration went through his body. "Yeah, amazing how those things work both ways. So, why didn’t you?"
"Figured you were busy. You had things to do."
"Neal?" It was clear from his tone that Peter wasn’t buying that particular brand of bullshit.
"Okay, I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want to …" Neal tried to sit up, tried to put some distance between them. Peter wasn’t letting him go.
"You didn’t want to, what?"
"Seem too needy." There, he said it and once he said it, he couldn’t shut himself up. "I don’t want to screw this up again, but it sometimes feels like a minefield. I ran from you, but you and El were incredible. I behaved like a child and you forgave me, and sometimes I can’t believe you still want me. And you do everything you possibly can not to pressure me or make me feel threatened. But you don’t handle me - you don’t treat me like I’m damaged beyond repair, either. And I’m just terrified I’m going to mess up. I know it’s crazy - you two are the best thing that ever happened to me and I don’t want to wreck it."
Neal paused and took a deep breath. "I’m sorry - I’m such a fucking mess." At least he wasn’t crying.
Peter turned him around and Neal was shocked to see that there were tears in his eyes. "You’re not a mess, Neal Caffrey, and you didn’t behave like a child. You’re a human being whose been badly hurt and afraid of being hurt again." Peter kissed him, a gentle benison, an affirmation.
It helped, a little. "I know you won’t hurt me."
"Fear isn’t logical." Peter’s smile was sad and understanding.
He sighed again. "I guess not, but I wish I was stronger."
"You are strong, Neal. You’re one of the strongest people I know."
"I’m a quivering mass of insecurities, Peter. It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone I can trust without reservation. I’m terrified that I’ll screw this up again."
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Peter leaned forward and brushed a hand against his jaw. "There was something you should know. Something that might terrify you even more."
Neal didn’t say anything, he just stared at him with those large, endlessly blue eyes.
"I’m falling in love you, Neal." He took a deep breath and jumped into the deep end. "Hell, enough with the equivocation. I love you and I need you to be part of my life – our lives. And I need to be part yours." His eyes never left Neal's. "Is it too much? Too soon?"
"No. It was not." Neal’s smile was slow, like the breaking dawn. "And I’m sure I love you, too. In love, do love. I’m still terrified, but that’s not going to hold me back. I trust you."
"I hope I’ll never give you a moment of regret." Peter’s heart felt way too full, like it did on his wedding day.
"Where do we go from here?" There was something a little cheeky about that question, as if Neal was expecting a very specific answer.
"To bed?" Peter hoped he was giving Neal the answer he wanted.
From the glow that lit Neal’s eyes, it was. "Yeah. But would you kiss me first, Peter?"
He was hit with an attack of butterflies. It had been a long time since he kissed a man. What if he screwed this up and ended up terrifying Neal? He tried to rein in his need to dominate, to take control and he let Neal set the pace.
Neal’s fingers slid up his arms, over his shoulders. They threaded through his hair and his scalp tingles, his whole body becomes a mass of gooseflesh. His own hands, in mindless mimicry, cupped Neal’s skull, and bring him close enough to crowd out stray molecules.
Peter brushed his lips against Neal’s, softly. It was as much of a pleasure as he remembered. He loved kissing Elizabeth, but kissing Neal was nothing like kissing his wife. Neal’s lips were narrow and firm, not pillowy and soft, but they were yielding all the same. Instead of El’s smooth, silken skin, Neal’s late day beard was rough, a completely different texture and Peter anticipated how that was going to feel on his body. He pressed harder, and Neal’s mouth opened under his. The feel of his submission was heady and Peter took care not to overwhelm Neal, to take things slowly, cautiously.
But Neal was not giving in as much as letting him in.
He touched his tongue to Neal’s, and discovered the other man tasted like beer and Chinese five-spice and something indefinably delicious. It was heady and exciting, and his sense of dominance was almost overwhelming as Neal clutched at his shoulders. He pushed Neal back against the couch, devouring him. He pressed against him, loving the feel of Neal’s tumescent cock brushing up against his own massive erection, grinding against him. But Peter pulled back, terrified that he was completely overwhelming Neal, breaking the hard-fought trust between them.
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Neal couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Peter’s hands were in his hair, his mouth was on his. His mouth. God - his mouth. He’d been dreaming of Peter’s mouth, his taste, his strength, for a months. Ever since that first kiss, on the front steps. He’d been fearing it too.
But there was nothing to fear, and it was so much better than his dreams.
And it wasn’t just lust, not just a feral act of copulation, an indulgence to ease a physical loneliness. This was the start of something he hoped would never end.
Peter’s lips were hot, damp, firm and commanding, and it was all that Neal could do not to swoon like some film noir movie heroine. Peter had taken him over, captured him, and he was making him his. For the first time in memory, Neal felt himself open up to another person, putting his safety and his sanity in Peter’s hands. He moaned Peter’s name and reveled as his tongue slipped in, strong, but not demanding. And that made it easy to capitulate; there were no terms of surrender to negotiate.
As long as there was trust between them, he knew he’d be safe with Peter. And with that he could be Peter’s. He could be whatever the man wanted of him.
Peter pressed him against the couch and Neal undulated against him, reveling in his heat, the massive erection that ground hard against his own, and he wanted to sob with joy. This was all for him and the love and lust and desire was mutual.
When Peter pulled back, the distance between them was a shock to his system.
"What … what’s the matter?"
He could still feel Peter’s cock, the heat and mass of it distending his fly was practically obscene, and he reveled in the knowledge that it was for him. Neal forced himself to look up. "Peter?"
"Are you okay?"
He sucked in his breath, touched beyond measure at Peter’s care for him. "Yeah, I am. I’m very okay." He smiled, but Peter didn’t lose that worried expression.
"I have to ask – is this the first time since…? " The question was all too obvious.
Neal dragged Peter back down to him. "No. But it’s the first time with someone I’ve trusted, someone I’ve cared for. And it was the first time ever with someone who’s truly loved me." What he didn’t tell Peter was that this was going to be the first time he bottomed for anyone since Keller. That was something that Peter didn’t need to be burdened with right now.
Peter was clearly shaken by that truth, and Neal ran a hand down the side of his face, coming to rest on his shoulder. But then he smiled at Neal. "I am honored by this. By you."
Neal didn’t know how to answer, so he kissed Peter, trying to pour out all of the love and the longing and the desire that had been buried behind his damaged walls.
Peter’s shudder of desire sent an answering surge in him and he wrapped his legs around his, and when Peter brushed his fingers against Neal’s lips, he nipped at the pad of his thumb before sucking hard. Peter tried to pull his thumb out of his mouth, but Neal didn’t let go easily.
He rubbed up against Peter over and over, enjoying the friction of the hard denim fabric, his zipper and Peter’s button-down fly against his aching cock. It had been so damn long since anyone touched him like this, intent on giving him pleasure more than taking it. He finally allowed Peter to extract his thumb and reached up to kiss him again.
Peter whispered, "You are going to drive me crazy, you know that?"
Neal couldn’t stifle his moan when Peter licked a dirty, wet stripe from chin to earlobe. Damn, Peter knew exactly what buttons he needed to push. When Peter nipped his earlobe, he went boneless—except for a certain, almost terminally hard part of his anatomy.
"Let’s take this upstairs. You deserve better than sex on the living room couch."
"At least for the first time?"
Peter growled his agreement into his mouth and the sensation was almost enough to end things right there. Neal almost came in his pants.
They got up, untangling themselves with some difficulty. Peter led him upstairs, to the guest bedroom where Neal had spent the night just a week ago. They paused at the doorway and Peter stood behind him, his hands resting on his shoulders. Neal liked the feeling. From anyone else, he might feel smothered or threatened—but from Peter, the weight of it grounded him, made him part of the here and now.
Neal turned to face Peter, enthralled by what he saw on the other man’s face. But there was hesitance too, which he understood. "I wouldn’t try to come between you and Elizabeth, Peter. You know that – you have to know that."
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Neal must have read something on his face, read and misinterpreted.
"Of course I know that."
"Then what’s the matter? You can’t still be afraid of hurting me. I’m here because I trust you. I have faith in you, Peter Burke."
"But I can hurt you. I worry that I’ll take over, make you do things you don’t want to do, make you dependent on me for anything and everything. I worry that you’ll look at me as see … him." Peter didn’t want to say that name, bring that evil into this room.
Neal wrapped his arms around him and rested his head against his neck, whispering, "I don’t know whether to kiss you or smack you. You’re nothing like him, ever. Just because you’re a dominant doesn’t mean you’ll abuse me. And just because you’re a dominant doesn’t mean I’ll be frightened. And it doesn’t mean that I’ll allow you to take me over. I’m not the same person I was back then."
Peter hugged Neal tightly, holding him like he’d never let him go. "I – just …"
"You’ve given me an out, remember?"
"Yes, of course I do." That day when Neal finally told them what had happened to him, why he’d been dodging them, he had promised Neal that if he needed to leave, ever, neither he nor Elizabeth would stop him.
"Then trust yourself." Neal lifted his head and brushed a kiss across Peter’s lips. "You just said you’re falling in love with me. You’re not a man who’d ever hurt those he loves. I’ve known that from the moment I laid eyes on you."
"How can you be so certain?" Peter wanted to accept Neal’s trust, but he had to understand the basis of it. Neal’s answer, though, surprised and confused him.
"Satchmo."
"Huh? What does my dog have to do with anything?"
Neal’s smile was pure sweetness. "He’s perfectly behaved."
"He jumps on you."
"He’s a puppy, still. That’s what puppies do." Neal pulled him into the bedroom. "If you were mistreating him, he’d be skittish and aggressive. He’d cower, he’d misbehave – and I don’t mean jumping and licking my face. He’d be destructive. He loves you, he looks to you like the sun rises and sets on you."
Peter began to relax, understanding what Neal was saying. "I feed him bacon."
Neal chuckled. "You used to to feed him bacon."
"Okay, okay. You can trust me because I love my dog."
"Basically, yeah."
Peter thought that this might be the oddest pre-coital conversation he ever had. He still need to reassure Neal, "If I ever …"
"You won’t, but if you – I will let you know that you’ve crossed a line."
"And you trust me to pull back?"
"Absolutely. I have faith in you and your better nature."
There was really nothing more to say. They were in the bedroom, not more than three feet from the king-sized bed that dominated the space. And despite the odd conversation and his own fears, there was no way he was going to let that bed go unused tonight. "I want to make love to you, Neal. Now, tonight, and probably for a hundred, a thousand other nights. I want you to want that, too."
Neal licked his lips, his blue eyes glowing in the room’s dim light. "Yes, I want it." He took Peter’s hand and pressed it against his groin. Peter squeezed the hard, hot cock that leaped against his palm. Neal let out a breathless laugh. "See, my body can’t lie."
Peter had to let out an answering laugh. "No, I guess not." He kissed Neal again, pushing him back the few short steps to the edge of the bed. Neal fell back, splayed across the mattress like some enticing houri, arms over his head, thighs parted.
"God, you’re going to make me a little crazy." Peter wondered if that was too much.
Apparently not. "Just a little?"
Peter growled and joined him on the bed, crouching over him. "You." He pressed a biting kiss against Neal’s mouth. "Are." And another at his jaw. "Perfect." The last kiss was more of a sharp nip on Neal’s earlobe.
Neal surged up against him, and Peter pushed him back down, his hands going everywhere, pulling at Neal’s clothes because he needed to touch skin the way he needed oxygen.
His urgency was contagious, and he tried not to become distracted as Neal’s own hand hands tugged and pulled at his shirt. Suddenly they were both naked from the waist up. That was okay – if just for the moment – he wanted to explore Neal, to learn him. But Neal pushed back, and to Peter’s delight, he was unwilling to surrender, to fully give in to the masterful streak that was as much a part of Peter as his brown eyes.
"Please, let me – just let me touch you." Neal sounded a little desperate, more than a little needy. Peter rolled off him and they reversed positions.
"Go ahead." He leaned back against the mass of pillows, his arms above his head in conscious mimicry of Neal’s earlier posture.
"I want to touch you, I want to know you." Neal ran a finger from Peter’s jaw to his neck and came to rest at the base of his throat, circling the mole. Peter’s pulse jumped as he felt the answering beat under Neal’s fingertips. The gentle stroking of that odd bit of flesh was an intimacy as arousing as a kiss. Neal’s fingers lingered there, petting and stroking, until he finally pressed his lips against it, like he had just a few mornings earlier. Neal licked it, the tip of his tongue exploring, tasting, so obviously enjoying what he found there.
It should have been ridiculous, of all the parts of his body to be worshipped, but Neal’s mouth and fingers were making him insane. A sound erupted out of his mouth, a scream of desire, when Neal bit down gently on his throat.
And Neal was far from done with him, even after his teeth and tongue released him. He continued to explore Peter like a blind man, using just his fingertips, first seeking out the sensitive places – the fold of skin where chest meets shoulder meets armpit, and he didn’t hesitate to follow the line and traced the path of the hair that curled in dampness with his mouth before burying his face in Peter’s armpit.
"What are you doing to me?"
Neal looked up. He seemed like some fey, fantastical creature come to earth, just for a night. "Learning you – all of you."
Peter shivered, but he let Neal return to his all-too-pleasurable task. This time, he focused on the scars, paying special attention the ones left by his shooter’s gun, but not neglecting the other nicks and flaws.
He tried to be patient, to stay relaxed under the intensity of Neal’s exploration, but it was too difficult.
Peter wrapped his arms around Neal, halting his progress as their bodies intertwined. But Neal had a leg between his and was riding Peter’s thigh. It was a slow ride, the pressure of Neal’s thigh against his groin was a bearable pain, just enough to keep him from going over the edge too quickly.
He took advantage of Neal’s shirtless state and ran his hands up his torso, savoring the feel of his skin—like velvet over steel—his chest flawless and smooth, with just a few fine curls disappearing into his waistband. Peter wanted to follow that trail, but for now, he was letting Neal remain in charge.
Neal was back in explorer mode, still just using his fingertips and it was hard to not to get impatient. He wanted more than these delicate, teasing strokes and he wasn’t above begging.
"You’re killing me, you know."
Neal didn’t answer directly; he just gave Peter a wicked smile and continued the torture until he finally touched Peter’s nipples. They were tight, hard like pebbles, and Peter locked his eyes on Neal’s as Neal pinched them.
"Do you like that?" Peter hissed and Neal pinched them again. Neal repeated the question. "Do you like that?"
Peter finally answered. "Yes, and don’t stop."
"Why were you so stubborn?"
Peter let out a chuff of laughter and closed his eyes, still willing – at least for the moment – to let Neal call the shots.
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Neal was stunned by the beauty of the image before him: Peter laying there, acquiescent, willing, but not submissive. His power was dormant, like a resting tiger, or maybe a wolf waiting for his prey in the shadowed forest. He knew that this wouldn't last too much longer, so he took full advantage of the moment.
He was still crouched over, surrounding him like a cage. He kissed him again, a soft kiss against his lips. Peter remained passive, so he deepened it, biting softly at his lower lip. Just as Peter began to respond with a low growl, Neal let go and kissed his chin, licking at the late day beard, delighting in the roughness of it against his tongue. When Peter lifted his head, Neal couldn't help but feel like he was the big cat, and Peter his prey. He bit down gently, barely hard enough to mark, and certainly not hard enough to bruise. He was rewarded when Peter’s hips surged up, rocking hard against him, the evidence of his pleasure almost burning him.
Neal's tongue again lingered at the mole at the base of Peter’s throat, then moved down, licking at Peter’s nipples—swollen from the torment he'd inflicted earlier—before working his way down to his abdomen. He gripped Peter’s ribs firmly, holding him in place while he teased at his belly button, licking just the rim with his tongue.
Peter moaned, panting slightly. Neal looked up and their eyes met over the sweaty expanse of Peter's torso. Peter licked his lips and said, "I’m going to do that to your ass someday."
In an instant, Neal felt himself losing control, losing the will, even, to control the scene, as he thought about Peter licking him there. But he had Peter quiescent under his hand and managed to refocus on what he was doing, going back to work on Peter’s navel, fucking it with his tongue, toying with it, torturing it.
He sensed that Peter was about to go over the edge. Or maybe it was the way the damp spot on the front of his jeans was so rapidly growing. It took some effort, but he got the first button opened, and then the second. He struggled with the rest, but Peter gave him a hand, literally - shoving his right hand down his fly, his palm pressing his cock down and Neal was finally able to rip open the rest of his fly. Peter kept his hand there, an oddly protective gesture, until he started stroking himself under his boxers.
Neal watched Peter’s hand move for a few moments, unbearably aroused, before he pulled off Peter’s shorts. He wanted to see Peter's cock, hard and ready for him. He crouched at Peter's feet and pressed a kiss against the back of the hand that was still stroking. "Come on, let me see all of it."
Peter let his hand fall to his hip and Neal gasped. He knew Peter was a big man, but this was unexpected.
"You are a beast, Peter Burke." Neal hadn’t intended to vocalize that thought. "Now I know why you dominate every room you walk into."
Peter chuckled weakly. "Very funny."
"I’m not joking." Neal looked at it again, trying to bring some long-dormant artist's perspective to it. "I mean, it's perfectly proportioned - but, damn." Neal smiled. At one point, before his life had taken such a disastrous turn, he'd had something of a size kink. Peter's dick brought that back into full bloom.
Peter shifted his leg, bringing one up against Neal's groin. "Bet you're not a small man either, Neal Caffrey."
"You'll find out soon enough." Neal managed to pull Peter's jeans and boxers all the way off, smiling at the image of a man naked except for a pair of black socks. His smile died when he saw the mass of scars on Peter's thigh - runnels and groove of scar tissue, a fist-sized indentation covered by skin that was almost unnaturally smooth. Peter moved to cover it, but there was no way that Neal was going to let him. He worshipped it, trying to convey without words the sorrow he felt over such a grave injury, his gratitude to the doctors who saved the leg and Peter's life, and to Peter, for having the strength of will to overcome the damage and rebuild himself.
Tears welled and dampened the hot skin.
"Enough, enough." Peter pulled Neal up and in his arms. "It’s my turn, now."
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He worshipped Neal, exploring his body much as Neal had explored his, searching for all the hidden erogenous zones, like the tiny fold of skin in front of his armpit, the dense musculature that framed his collarbone, the deep cup in his throat. Peter didn’t let a single bit of skin go untouched. He learned Neal, his pleasures, his truths, through his lips and tongue and the glide of his fingertips.
Neal writhed under him, his eyes stayed closed, his face that of an angel fallen into ecstasy. He arched his back and uttered a single word, a prayer, a plea. "Peter…"
Peter understood the gift that was offered in this, the trust and faith that was placed in his hands. They could talk about the past, about their fears, about desire and need until the world fell to pieces, but now they both needed to marry action with words. He pulled back just enough to make Neal whimper and open his eyes.
Peter smiled at him. "I want you as naked as I am." Neal smiled back and relaxed against the bed as Peter pulled of his pants and briefs. "So you don’t always go commando."
"No – that was a special occasion." Neal rolled his hips, so obviously hungry for his touch.
Peter figured he’d get that story another time. There was more enticing avenues of investigation before him.
"And you had the nerve to comment about my dick…"
Neal laughed, "But you’ll be the one fucking me."
"If that’s what you want."
Neal leaned up on one elbow, looking at Peter down the length of his body. "Yes."
Peter swallowed against the lump in his throat; he understood all the implications in that single syllable.
Neal arched his body again, his hard, hot cock brushing against Peter’s cheek. He couldn’t resist the invitation offered. Neal was so aroused that his dick was nearly flush with his lower belly, the tip almost reaching his navel.
Peter breathed over that cock, and the warm stream of air aroused Neal still further, his balls began to draw up tight and a drop of precome pearled through his slit. He licked a single strip with the flat of his tongue, from base to tip, and then back down.
Neal moaned as Peter started to suckle his balls, taking one, then the other into his mouth, laving each one with his tongue before letting it slide out with a wet pop. Peter licked him again, teasing along the big vein, under the hood, dipping into his leaking slit before engulfing the head with his mouth.
He held Neal down at his hips, refusing to let him surge up into his mouth. His throat was relaxed, his mouth filled with saliva as he swallowed Neal almost all the way down. There was an art to this, and while Peter might not have the ability to paint or draw or sculpt, he loved giving head and considered himself as much of a grand master as Michelangelo. Peter reveled in his skill, knowing how to bring maximum pleasure to his partners, but Neal was so big, his desire was so urgent that it took all his strength to control him.
When Neal’s hands grasped his head, his fingernails scraping against his scalp, Peter almost lost control. Everyone had a private erogenous zone, and this was his. Peter didn’t block out the sensation of Neal’s fingers in his hair, but he forced himself to concentrate on the feel of his dick in his mouth. He slide up, just barely keeping the head in his mouth, and then almost all of the way down again. He could feel the count the pulse beats in the big veins against his lips, and he swallowed the precome that was continuously leaking. Peter moved his mouth up and down one more time before he let go of Neal’s hips, cupping his hands around his cock.
Neal orgasmed, filling Peter’s mouth with sweet-bitter semen. He swallowed until he couldn’t anymore; finally letting Neal’s cock slide all of the way out of his mouth and looked up the length of Neal’s body. Neal’s dazed, wrecked, there were tears streaming out of his closed eyes. Peter couldn’t tell if Neal was just panting or if he was sobbing.
Peter swallowed again, licked his lips and climbed back up the bed, until they were face to face. He brushed his hand against Neal’s damp cheek, gently against his forehead, tangling a little in his sweat-soaked curls. Neal was crying. "What’s the matter?" He was troubled, worried that he did something wrong. That he went too far and somehow triggered something bad for Neal.
Neal finally opened his eyes and looked at Peter, the blue almost completely taken over by his blown pupils. Neal’s mouth opened, but no words formed. He surged up against Peter and kissed him as if the universe was about to end. Or maybe as it had just been born anew.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Neal wasn’t sure how he was still alive, if he was still alive, except that it shouldn’t feel this good to be dead. The orgasm that Peter pulled out of him was devastating, but it was more than mechanics and friction, more than the feel of a skilled mouth on his cock. It was the absolute intimacy of the act that wrecked him. It had been so long since he allowed anyone to be this close to him, so long since he trusted anyone – including himself - enough to become that vulnerable.
When he opened his eyes, he was looking right into Peter’s, and he was swallowed whole by their brilliant darkness. He tried to tell Peter what he was feeling, but he couldn’t make the words come out. It was clear that Peter was worried, that he was afraid that somehow he’d hurt him. Neal wanted to comfort him, tell him it was okay, but the words still wouldn’t form and all he could think was that he needed to kiss Peter, that he wanted to crawl into his skin, give back at least some of the pleasure he had just received.
He kissed Peter, tasting himself on the other man’s lips, on his tongue, in his mouth and he felt himself growing hard again. The need to impress himself on Peter, to burn himself into the other man’s soul was so urgent and all-consuming that it shocked him and he broke their kiss.
Peter threaded a hand through his hair and tried to bring him back into their kiss, but Neal didn’t let him. "Neal? Are you all right? "
Neal finally found the words. "Yes, yes, yes." He felt like he could say that for eternity. "I’m fine and you’re perfect and I never want this to end. I’m yours forever." He was stunned by his own words, the admission was almost too easy to make.
Peter didn’t reply, and now Neal was the one who was worried that he went too far, that he said too much. He opened his mouth to retract, to apologize, but Peter put a gentle finger against his lips and smiled.
"Thank you." The words were simple and stark and heartfelt.
They remained like that for a heartbeat, then another. Neal kissed Peter fingers and rested his head against the other man. "We’re not done, you know." Neal slid a hand down Peter’s body, capturing his hard, heavy cock. "Not by a long shot." He stroked him, loving how the flesh surged against his palm.
"Are you sure?" Peter whispered. "I don’t need …"
Neal angled his neck and looked up. "I’m going to be selfish, you know. I need this, I want this. I want you to fuck me. It’s been too damn long and I want you too damn much to wait anymore."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Peter gazed down at Neal, his dark hair haloed by the pure white cotton pillowcase. "I want this, too. But tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, anything that frightens you, okay?"
Neal nodded. "I don’t think you can ever make me uncomfortable." He rubbed his thigh against Peter’s massively erect cock, and joked, "At least emotionally. Physically … "
"I’ll treat you like spun glass."
"No, you’ll treat me like a man. I’m not going to break from a good, hard fucking." Peter seemed skeptical, but Neal just tilted his head back in invitation.
Which Peter accepted without any more hesitation. He set his teeth against Neal’s throat, his neck, the delicate lobe of his ear, closing gently, trying not to leave visible marks. Neal moved in restless waves beneath him, their bodies aligned, unjoined. Peter felt Neal’s cock, so recently spent, twitch to life against his own aching, hard dick.
He released the precious flesh. "Tell me you want this." Peter whispered against Neal’s skin, cool marble clothed in hot silk and velvet. "Tell me."
"Yes, yes." Neal repeated, a whine of desire. "Don’t you believe me?"
"I do – I just want to hear you say it." He flipped Neal onto his stomach, but he wasn’t going to take him - not yet. Peter wanted to explore, to learn, to gather all that was Neal Caffrey into him. He was like some beautiful, fey creature - narrow, not small - but perfectly built.
But it wasn’t all of Neal’s body that was driving him a little crazy, just one small, delicious part of it. The back of his head - his dark curls damp from perspiration, exposing the nape of his neck, that exquisite point where a man’s strength meets vulnerability.
Peter leaned over and pressed a kiss at that spot, flicking out his tongue, tasting again the residue of a day’s hard work, and the heady musk of new sweat. The feel of those damp curls against his nose, so seemingly innocent, incited some atavistic, possessive beast in him. Peter fought to control it as he fit his body onto Neal’s, his cock riding that hot, sweet crack. Neal shifted restlessly.
Peter had to ask, because the past was never far from his mind. "You want this? Are you okay?" He held his breath, waiting for the answer.
"Yes, Peter, please. I want this, I want you." Neal’s voice rose and fell like his hips against Peter’s body. "I want you, I need you. Please."
He must have taken leave of his senses when he pressed Neal down into the mattress, impressing his strength on him. Neal stiffened, pushed back, refusing to fully submit. He pressed down harder and Neal began to thrash, to fight him.
"Peter, damn it, let me go."
He did instantly, moving completely off of Neal’s body, and out of the bed. Neal flipped over, panting; there was a wariness in his eyes now. Peter felt his desire flag, then die. "I’m – I’m sorry. I – " Words failed him. He had crossed the line.
"No - no. I just…" Neal stopped, grimaced. "I want this. I just … it’s been a long time since I’ve been in this position." It all came out in a rush. Neal ducked his head.
Peter was appalled at himself. After all the care and concern he’d expressed – the months of careful wooing, he’d just treated Neal like some anonymous fuck. "I don’t know what came over me - I’m not usually like this."
"Like what?" Neal seemed genuinely curious.
"So possessive. Damn, I was like an animal." Peter moved to get off the bed, to put some distance between them. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey, no. Don’t go." Neal held out a hand, grabbed his arm. Peter allowed himself to be pulled back. "I liked it. The last, though - I just wasn’t expecting it."
"Are you sure you’re okay?"
Neal nodded, slowly at first, then with more vigor. "I’m all right. I want this."
Peter ran his hand through his hair, "We’ll go slowly."
"Slowly, I can do slowly." Neal grinned and stretched out against the white bedding.
"You – you’re going to drive me insane." This time, Peter didn’t fall on him like an animal. He took his time, using his hands and mouth to build a fire in Neal, to make him want and know nothing that existed past this room.
Peter looked down at Neal’s cock, massively erect and tight against his belly. It was truly a thing of beauty and he thought about going down on him. His mouth watered, but they’d save that for later, because there would definitely be a later.
He soothed him. "Shh, shh. Gotta take care of you. You want this? You still want this?" This time, the question wasn’t driven by compulsion, but by concern.
"Yes - don’t stop. I’ll die if you stop."
That was all he needed to hear. Peter rolled off Neal’s body for a second and retrieved the condoms and lube he’d put in the night table drawer earlier that day, in the hope that he’d end up here with Neal.
Neal spread his legs wide. It would be easier for both of them if Neal was on his belly, but for this first time, they needed to do this face-to-face.
The slick was cool against his fingers and he warmed it before touching Neal.
"Nnn, Peter … " His finger met natural resistance.
"Relax, can you relax?"
Neal tried and Peter was able to breach him. He worked gently, slowly stretching the tight muscles, adding more lube and another finger. Neal bit his lip and Peter thought he’d never see anything more beautiful. More lube, a third finger and Neal’s hips were humping the air as he worked them back and forth.
"I want you - I want your cock." Neal tried to pull himself up, grabbing at Peter’s arms.
"Okay - you’re sure?"
"Yes, damn it. I want you. How many times am I going to have to tell you?"
Peter felt a grin spread across his face. "You’re awfully bossy."
"But you still like me, right?" Neal’s lips curved into a teasing smile.
The humor was as powerful an aphrodisiac as anything he’d ever experienced. Peter kissed him - slowly devouring that mouth, sass and all. Neal was rubbing himself against his belly, leaving hot streaks of pre-come on his skin. He lifted Neal’s leg over his hip and rubbed the tip of it against his slicked up hole. And pulled back.
Neal whimpered in distress. "Hold on, give me a sec." Peter reached for the condom on the night table, tore open the foil packet, sheathed himself and added some slick.
In that first moment of penetration, Neal’s erection began to flag and he bit his lip, but this time it wasn’t in thwarted desire.
"Sorry, it’s going to hurt, just a bit." Peter forced himself to go slowly, achingly so, giving Neal time to adjust with each millimeter of penetration.
They found their rhythm, slow, careful, like some exquisite tango. Neal was panting, urging him to go faster, wrapping his legs around his waist, drawing him closer. Peter resisted. "No, Neal - don’t rush this. I don’t want to hurt you."
He kept up the long, slow thrusts, he wanted to imprint himself on Neal, he wanted this to never end. The slide of skin and slick and sweat, the taste of Neal, the scent of them, together was maddening - for both of them. Orgasm caught them both by surprise. Neal came first, his body clamping down tight on Peter, pulling it out of him, making the universe burn white.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Peter was still on top of him, his weight almost uncomfortable, but Neal didn't think he could move. And in truth, he didn't want to. If he died right now, he'd die a happy, contented and very satisfied man.
He was actually a little sorry when Peter came to his senses and rolled off him. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Better than fine." He wanted to tell Peter that he'd never been better in his entire life, but this wasn't the time for that.
Peter leaned up on one elbow and brushed the curls off of Neal’s forehead. There was a grave expression in his eyes. "You sure?"
Neal reached up and touched Peter's face. "Yes. I'm absolutely, utterly and completely positive. He kissed him, trying to give the reassurance that Peter needed.
It worked and Peter responded, and the kiss became something slow and lingering, golden and hazy around the edges. All desire but nothing urgent as they feasted on each other.
Peter murmured something about getting them cleaned up. He got out of bed and Neal was chilled, but not so uncomfortable that the needed to move under the covers. He heard the water running, as if from a great distance. Peter returned and Neal gave him a lazy smile.
"You're beautiful, you know."
"You're crazy, you know."
"Hmmm, maybe. But you're still beautiful."
Peter laughed and kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Can you scoot over?"
Neal moved and Peter managed to get the covers out of the way. He ran the washcloth over Neal's torso and down his body, wiping away the sweat and come before disappearing again. Only to return with a dry towel.
Peter dried him off and his eyes drifted shut. He was safe and happy and loved. All Neal wanted at the moment was to sleep. A thought occurred and his eyes snapped open.
"Peter?"
"What's the matter?"
"Will you..." Neal bit his lip, unable to finish the question. In his head, he sounded so needy.
But Peter seemed to understand. "Of course I will, there's no question about that." Peter climbed back into the enormous bed and turned Neal around, tucking his head into his shoulder.
"I’m sorry."
"Haven't we talked about unnecessary apologies?" He placed a soft kiss on Neal’s cheek.
"You’re not going anywhere?" Neal relaxed against him.
"No. I’ll be here when you wake."
GO TO PART SIX: ON DW | ON LJ
Neal was starting to worry. Friday and it was five days since his lunch with Elizabeth, nearly a week after that momentous morning with Peter, but he hadn’t heard from either Burke.
He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done wrong. Or whether they had changed their minds. Peter had promised that he’d talk with Elizabeth, Elizabeth had told him that she’d given Peter the green light. And that the two of them could be friends – platonic for the moment, but the possibility was there for something more down the line.
It was easy to avoid thinking about their absence when he was treating a gassy Pomeranian or a Newfoundland puppy who ate his owners’ car keys, but as he locked up each night, he found himself waiting for Peter and Satchmo, but neither of them arrived and he walked home, alone.
The first night, he passed by the Burke’s house and didn’t see the living room light on. They weren’t home and he didn’t think twice about it. The second night, the light was on, he could see the silhouettes of people - a man and a woman - that he didn’t recognize. Neal he didn’t stop, although he wanted to. Stopping by when Peter and Elizabeth clearly had company would be weird and intrusive.
The third night, he could see that the light was on; he could see the silhouette of Peter sitting on the couch and Elizabeth moving around. Neal made it halfway up the front steps before stopping and turning around and going back to the street. If they really wanted to see him, they would have called.
So he headed home, feeling more than a little sorry for himself. Moz was in the living room, drinking and working on something, but Neal just waved and headed up to his bedroom for a good long sulk.
Back in the early summer, when he was actively dodging them, Neal had walk a half-dozen blocks out of the way to avoid walking past Peter and Elizabeth’s house. That was the route he took last night, and tonight he figured he’d take that way home again. Seeing their house, seeing them, but not being wanted, hurt.
Donna and Mike had left for the day. It was after six - actually almost closer to seven - and it was well past the time to go home. Consulting hours were long over and he’d taken care of the animals that were overnighting, he’d fed The Demon Creature, finished annotating all of the day’s charts, and he could find absolutely no reason to stay here.
Neal couldn’t help but contrast this to last Friday night, when he was looking forward to his first official "date" with Peter and Elizabeth, or the weekend before, when the Burkes were coming over for brunch. And even the weekend before that, when he and Peter had gotten together to watch the last Yankee game of the regular baseball season. Somehow, for some reason, he has no contact with the Burkes since Monday and he had to wonder and worry …
It was stupid, he was being stupid. It wasn’t like he lived with them, or that the spent hours on the phone talking, or that they were like teenagers, constantly texting. Before last weekend, days would go by without a phone call or a text or an email. Except that just about every night he was working, Peter and Satchmo would show up and escort him home.
Neal tried not to feel like such a teenager, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but wonder where he’d gone wrong, what mistakes he made. It must have been the lunch with Elizabeth, he must have somehow offended her, and this was their way of letting him know that he’d been out of line.
But maybe this was payback, punishment, the karma debt for his bad choices.
Neal stopped. No, that was not how the Burkes behaved. If they were unhappy with him, they’d let him know in no uncertain terms. They’d tell him. They didn’t play those games. Peter and Elizabeth were nothing like Matthew. They cared about him.
Neal took a deep breath and made up his mind. It was early enough that he could stop by without being intrusive. He doubled checked the animals, smiled at The Demon Creature, who was perched on top of a filing cabinet. The cat hissed back at him. He turned out the lights and opened the front door.
To find Peter standing here with his hand raised to knock, Satchmo sitting at his feet, at least until he saw Neal. The Lab jumped up, trying to give Neal a doggie kiss, but Peter firmly tugged on the leash and Satch gave a little bark before sitting back down.
Peter smiled and reached out for him. "I get to kiss you first."
And he did just that. He kissed the stuffing out of him and Neal clung to those broad shoulder because he went all but boneless as the kiss went on and on.
Finally, Peter stepped back, licking his lips, which looked just a bit swollen under the streetlights. "Hey there. Missed you."
Neal blinked, feeling a little disoriented and a lot happy. "Missed you, too."
This time, Satchmo wasn’t going to be denied. He took advantage of his master’s distraction, leaping up to put his paws on Neal’s chest and tried to lick his face.
"Down, boy." Peter’s tone was firm and brooked no disobedience. The dog sat and panted and looked at Neal with expectant eyes.
"You’re doing it just right. You’re letting him know who’s in charge." But Neal couldn’t help but reward Satchmo for his improved behavior and got down on one knee to pet him. It was a strange vantage point and Neal was struck by an absurd but almost profound desire to serve Peter. It wasn’t the first time he had that feeling.
There was a look in Peter’s eyes, or it might have been the streetlights, but Neal thought he saw approval there, understanding, and of course, desire.
Neal got to his feet and they started walking towards home.
"Sorry that I haven’t been around this week. I should have been by last night. Was planning to."
"I was a little worried." Neal was grateful that Peter raised the subject. He was still feeling too insecure. "Everything all right?"
Peter shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
"You guess?"
They walked and Peter took his time answering. "I found out some troubling things on Monday and I’m still working through them." Peter sounded sad and even a little lost, but not angry.
"Anything you can tell me?"
Peter sighed. "I learned that another agent has been ‘temporarily’ assigned to run my department."
"What? Why?"
"It’s complicated."
Neal knew better than to press, but he was dying to. Peter was so obviously upset. "Do you know him?"
"Her, and yes. Our paths crossed once or twice. She’s extremely ambitious and I think she’s going to try and make it a permanent assignment."
"And where does that leave you?" As soon as he asked, Neal regretted it.
"I don’t know. I can’t seem to get any decent indication when I’ll be allowed to return to work. I thought I’d have been cleared for desk work by now, but no one’s willing to sign off on that."
Neal had a million other questions, but didn’t ask them and they walked in silence down DeKalb, pausing every few feet to let Satchmo do his business. Still, it didn’t take long before they stopped in front of Peter’s house. It was dark, which was unusual - at least it seemed unusual to Neal.
"Look, um - would you like to come in? El’s got a thing tonight and I’d like your company."
Neal blinked. Peter’s offer was a study in diffidence. How different he was from the man who said hello and kissed him like he was the only thing in the universe that mattered. But he grinned and played it casual. "You cooking?"
Peter smiled back. "Nah, I was thinking Chinese. You up for some Mu Shu and a couple of bottles of Tsingtao?"
"Make mine General Tso’s, extra spicy, and I’m in." Neal didn’t bother to wait for Peter as he climbed up the front steps. Which was kind of foolish, since everything was locked up and he had to wait for Peter anyway. But Peter wasn’t that far behind him, and if he climbed the stairs a little slower than he had the last few times Neal had seen him, Neal wasn’t going to comment.
They ordered dinner, fed Satchmo and made light, pointless conversation until Mr. Ping from Happy Family dropped off the order. Afterwards, they headed over to the couch with some beer - not the promised Tsingtao (that was somehow left out of the delivery), but Peter’s much-loved down market Heisler. Neal sat down, figuring that Peter would take the other end, but was shocked and delighted when the man dropped down next to him, so close they were touching from hip to knee. He didn’t need to resist the urge to lean into Peter, because Peter made resistance futile. He draped an arm over his shoulder and pulled him close.
"You okay?"
Neal didn’t answer, he just leaned his head against Peter’s shoulder and let out a contented sigh.
"I guess that means yes."
"Mmm." The position was awkward, but Neal turned his head and pressed a kiss against Peter’s jaw. "Very much ‘okay’. I’ve really missed you this week." Neal stopped, wondering if that was too much. Too revealing. Too needy.
But if it was, Peter didn’t seem to mind. "Missed you, too. It was a complicated week. I should have called or texted."
Neal had a minor epiphany. "And I could have called you, too."
Peter gave a snort of a chuckle and Neal loved the way the vibration went through his body. "Yeah, amazing how those things work both ways. So, why didn’t you?"
"Figured you were busy. You had things to do."
"Neal?" It was clear from his tone that Peter wasn’t buying that particular brand of bullshit.
"Okay, I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want to …" Neal tried to sit up, tried to put some distance between them. Peter wasn’t letting him go.
"You didn’t want to, what?"
"Seem too needy." There, he said it and once he said it, he couldn’t shut himself up. "I don’t want to screw this up again, but it sometimes feels like a minefield. I ran from you, but you and El were incredible. I behaved like a child and you forgave me, and sometimes I can’t believe you still want me. And you do everything you possibly can not to pressure me or make me feel threatened. But you don’t handle me - you don’t treat me like I’m damaged beyond repair, either. And I’m just terrified I’m going to mess up. I know it’s crazy - you two are the best thing that ever happened to me and I don’t want to wreck it."
Neal paused and took a deep breath. "I’m sorry - I’m such a fucking mess." At least he wasn’t crying.
Peter turned him around and Neal was shocked to see that there were tears in his eyes. "You’re not a mess, Neal Caffrey, and you didn’t behave like a child. You’re a human being whose been badly hurt and afraid of being hurt again." Peter kissed him, a gentle benison, an affirmation.
It helped, a little. "I know you won’t hurt me."
"Fear isn’t logical." Peter’s smile was sad and understanding.
He sighed again. "I guess not, but I wish I was stronger."
"You are strong, Neal. You’re one of the strongest people I know."
"I’m a quivering mass of insecurities, Peter. It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone I can trust without reservation. I’m terrified that I’ll screw this up again."
Peter leaned forward and brushed a hand against his jaw. "There was something you should know. Something that might terrify you even more."
Neal didn’t say anything, he just stared at him with those large, endlessly blue eyes.
"I’m falling in love you, Neal." He took a deep breath and jumped into the deep end. "Hell, enough with the equivocation. I love you and I need you to be part of my life – our lives. And I need to be part yours." His eyes never left Neal's. "Is it too much? Too soon?"
"No. It was not." Neal’s smile was slow, like the breaking dawn. "And I’m sure I love you, too. In love, do love. I’m still terrified, but that’s not going to hold me back. I trust you."
"I hope I’ll never give you a moment of regret." Peter’s heart felt way too full, like it did on his wedding day.
"Where do we go from here?" There was something a little cheeky about that question, as if Neal was expecting a very specific answer.
"To bed?" Peter hoped he was giving Neal the answer he wanted.
From the glow that lit Neal’s eyes, it was. "Yeah. But would you kiss me first, Peter?"
He was hit with an attack of butterflies. It had been a long time since he kissed a man. What if he screwed this up and ended up terrifying Neal? He tried to rein in his need to dominate, to take control and he let Neal set the pace.
Neal’s fingers slid up his arms, over his shoulders. They threaded through his hair and his scalp tingles, his whole body becomes a mass of gooseflesh. His own hands, in mindless mimicry, cupped Neal’s skull, and bring him close enough to crowd out stray molecules.
Peter brushed his lips against Neal’s, softly. It was as much of a pleasure as he remembered. He loved kissing Elizabeth, but kissing Neal was nothing like kissing his wife. Neal’s lips were narrow and firm, not pillowy and soft, but they were yielding all the same. Instead of El’s smooth, silken skin, Neal’s late day beard was rough, a completely different texture and Peter anticipated how that was going to feel on his body. He pressed harder, and Neal’s mouth opened under his. The feel of his submission was heady and Peter took care not to overwhelm Neal, to take things slowly, cautiously.
But Neal was not giving in as much as letting him in.
He touched his tongue to Neal’s, and discovered the other man tasted like beer and Chinese five-spice and something indefinably delicious. It was heady and exciting, and his sense of dominance was almost overwhelming as Neal clutched at his shoulders. He pushed Neal back against the couch, devouring him. He pressed against him, loving the feel of Neal’s tumescent cock brushing up against his own massive erection, grinding against him. But Peter pulled back, terrified that he was completely overwhelming Neal, breaking the hard-fought trust between them.
Neal couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Peter’s hands were in his hair, his mouth was on his. His mouth. God - his mouth. He’d been dreaming of Peter’s mouth, his taste, his strength, for a months. Ever since that first kiss, on the front steps. He’d been fearing it too.
But there was nothing to fear, and it was so much better than his dreams.
And it wasn’t just lust, not just a feral act of copulation, an indulgence to ease a physical loneliness. This was the start of something he hoped would never end.
Peter’s lips were hot, damp, firm and commanding, and it was all that Neal could do not to swoon like some film noir movie heroine. Peter had taken him over, captured him, and he was making him his. For the first time in memory, Neal felt himself open up to another person, putting his safety and his sanity in Peter’s hands. He moaned Peter’s name and reveled as his tongue slipped in, strong, but not demanding. And that made it easy to capitulate; there were no terms of surrender to negotiate.
As long as there was trust between them, he knew he’d be safe with Peter. And with that he could be Peter’s. He could be whatever the man wanted of him.
Peter pressed him against the couch and Neal undulated against him, reveling in his heat, the massive erection that ground hard against his own, and he wanted to sob with joy. This was all for him and the love and lust and desire was mutual.
When Peter pulled back, the distance between them was a shock to his system.
"What … what’s the matter?"
He could still feel Peter’s cock, the heat and mass of it distending his fly was practically obscene, and he reveled in the knowledge that it was for him. Neal forced himself to look up. "Peter?"
"Are you okay?"
He sucked in his breath, touched beyond measure at Peter’s care for him. "Yeah, I am. I’m very okay." He smiled, but Peter didn’t lose that worried expression.
"I have to ask – is this the first time since…? " The question was all too obvious.
Neal dragged Peter back down to him. "No. But it’s the first time with someone I’ve trusted, someone I’ve cared for. And it was the first time ever with someone who’s truly loved me." What he didn’t tell Peter was that this was going to be the first time he bottomed for anyone since Keller. That was something that Peter didn’t need to be burdened with right now.
Peter was clearly shaken by that truth, and Neal ran a hand down the side of his face, coming to rest on his shoulder. But then he smiled at Neal. "I am honored by this. By you."
Neal didn’t know how to answer, so he kissed Peter, trying to pour out all of the love and the longing and the desire that had been buried behind his damaged walls.
Peter’s shudder of desire sent an answering surge in him and he wrapped his legs around his, and when Peter brushed his fingers against Neal’s lips, he nipped at the pad of his thumb before sucking hard. Peter tried to pull his thumb out of his mouth, but Neal didn’t let go easily.
He rubbed up against Peter over and over, enjoying the friction of the hard denim fabric, his zipper and Peter’s button-down fly against his aching cock. It had been so damn long since anyone touched him like this, intent on giving him pleasure more than taking it. He finally allowed Peter to extract his thumb and reached up to kiss him again.
Peter whispered, "You are going to drive me crazy, you know that?"
Neal couldn’t stifle his moan when Peter licked a dirty, wet stripe from chin to earlobe. Damn, Peter knew exactly what buttons he needed to push. When Peter nipped his earlobe, he went boneless—except for a certain, almost terminally hard part of his anatomy.
"Let’s take this upstairs. You deserve better than sex on the living room couch."
"At least for the first time?"
Peter growled his agreement into his mouth and the sensation was almost enough to end things right there. Neal almost came in his pants.
They got up, untangling themselves with some difficulty. Peter led him upstairs, to the guest bedroom where Neal had spent the night just a week ago. They paused at the doorway and Peter stood behind him, his hands resting on his shoulders. Neal liked the feeling. From anyone else, he might feel smothered or threatened—but from Peter, the weight of it grounded him, made him part of the here and now.
Neal turned to face Peter, enthralled by what he saw on the other man’s face. But there was hesitance too, which he understood. "I wouldn’t try to come between you and Elizabeth, Peter. You know that – you have to know that."
Neal must have read something on his face, read and misinterpreted.
"Of course I know that."
"Then what’s the matter? You can’t still be afraid of hurting me. I’m here because I trust you. I have faith in you, Peter Burke."
"But I can hurt you. I worry that I’ll take over, make you do things you don’t want to do, make you dependent on me for anything and everything. I worry that you’ll look at me as see … him." Peter didn’t want to say that name, bring that evil into this room.
Neal wrapped his arms around him and rested his head against his neck, whispering, "I don’t know whether to kiss you or smack you. You’re nothing like him, ever. Just because you’re a dominant doesn’t mean you’ll abuse me. And just because you’re a dominant doesn’t mean I’ll be frightened. And it doesn’t mean that I’ll allow you to take me over. I’m not the same person I was back then."
Peter hugged Neal tightly, holding him like he’d never let him go. "I – just …"
"You’ve given me an out, remember?"
"Yes, of course I do." That day when Neal finally told them what had happened to him, why he’d been dodging them, he had promised Neal that if he needed to leave, ever, neither he nor Elizabeth would stop him.
"Then trust yourself." Neal lifted his head and brushed a kiss across Peter’s lips. "You just said you’re falling in love with me. You’re not a man who’d ever hurt those he loves. I’ve known that from the moment I laid eyes on you."
"How can you be so certain?" Peter wanted to accept Neal’s trust, but he had to understand the basis of it. Neal’s answer, though, surprised and confused him.
"Satchmo."
"Huh? What does my dog have to do with anything?"
Neal’s smile was pure sweetness. "He’s perfectly behaved."
"He jumps on you."
"He’s a puppy, still. That’s what puppies do." Neal pulled him into the bedroom. "If you were mistreating him, he’d be skittish and aggressive. He’d cower, he’d misbehave – and I don’t mean jumping and licking my face. He’d be destructive. He loves you, he looks to you like the sun rises and sets on you."
Peter began to relax, understanding what Neal was saying. "I feed him bacon."
Neal chuckled. "You used to to feed him bacon."
"Okay, okay. You can trust me because I love my dog."
"Basically, yeah."
Peter thought that this might be the oddest pre-coital conversation he ever had. He still need to reassure Neal, "If I ever …"
"You won’t, but if you – I will let you know that you’ve crossed a line."
"And you trust me to pull back?"
"Absolutely. I have faith in you and your better nature."
There was really nothing more to say. They were in the bedroom, not more than three feet from the king-sized bed that dominated the space. And despite the odd conversation and his own fears, there was no way he was going to let that bed go unused tonight. "I want to make love to you, Neal. Now, tonight, and probably for a hundred, a thousand other nights. I want you to want that, too."
Neal licked his lips, his blue eyes glowing in the room’s dim light. "Yes, I want it." He took Peter’s hand and pressed it against his groin. Peter squeezed the hard, hot cock that leaped against his palm. Neal let out a breathless laugh. "See, my body can’t lie."
Peter had to let out an answering laugh. "No, I guess not." He kissed Neal again, pushing him back the few short steps to the edge of the bed. Neal fell back, splayed across the mattress like some enticing houri, arms over his head, thighs parted.
"God, you’re going to make me a little crazy." Peter wondered if that was too much.
Apparently not. "Just a little?"
Peter growled and joined him on the bed, crouching over him. "You." He pressed a biting kiss against Neal’s mouth. "Are." And another at his jaw. "Perfect." The last kiss was more of a sharp nip on Neal’s earlobe.
Neal surged up against him, and Peter pushed him back down, his hands going everywhere, pulling at Neal’s clothes because he needed to touch skin the way he needed oxygen.
His urgency was contagious, and he tried not to become distracted as Neal’s own hand hands tugged and pulled at his shirt. Suddenly they were both naked from the waist up. That was okay – if just for the moment – he wanted to explore Neal, to learn him. But Neal pushed back, and to Peter’s delight, he was unwilling to surrender, to fully give in to the masterful streak that was as much a part of Peter as his brown eyes.
"Please, let me – just let me touch you." Neal sounded a little desperate, more than a little needy. Peter rolled off him and they reversed positions.
"Go ahead." He leaned back against the mass of pillows, his arms above his head in conscious mimicry of Neal’s earlier posture.
"I want to touch you, I want to know you." Neal ran a finger from Peter’s jaw to his neck and came to rest at the base of his throat, circling the mole. Peter’s pulse jumped as he felt the answering beat under Neal’s fingertips. The gentle stroking of that odd bit of flesh was an intimacy as arousing as a kiss. Neal’s fingers lingered there, petting and stroking, until he finally pressed his lips against it, like he had just a few mornings earlier. Neal licked it, the tip of his tongue exploring, tasting, so obviously enjoying what he found there.
It should have been ridiculous, of all the parts of his body to be worshipped, but Neal’s mouth and fingers were making him insane. A sound erupted out of his mouth, a scream of desire, when Neal bit down gently on his throat.
And Neal was far from done with him, even after his teeth and tongue released him. He continued to explore Peter like a blind man, using just his fingertips, first seeking out the sensitive places – the fold of skin where chest meets shoulder meets armpit, and he didn’t hesitate to follow the line and traced the path of the hair that curled in dampness with his mouth before burying his face in Peter’s armpit.
"What are you doing to me?"
Neal looked up. He seemed like some fey, fantastical creature come to earth, just for a night. "Learning you – all of you."
Peter shivered, but he let Neal return to his all-too-pleasurable task. This time, he focused on the scars, paying special attention the ones left by his shooter’s gun, but not neglecting the other nicks and flaws.
He tried to be patient, to stay relaxed under the intensity of Neal’s exploration, but it was too difficult.
Peter wrapped his arms around Neal, halting his progress as their bodies intertwined. But Neal had a leg between his and was riding Peter’s thigh. It was a slow ride, the pressure of Neal’s thigh against his groin was a bearable pain, just enough to keep him from going over the edge too quickly.
He took advantage of Neal’s shirtless state and ran his hands up his torso, savoring the feel of his skin—like velvet over steel—his chest flawless and smooth, with just a few fine curls disappearing into his waistband. Peter wanted to follow that trail, but for now, he was letting Neal remain in charge.
Neal was back in explorer mode, still just using his fingertips and it was hard to not to get impatient. He wanted more than these delicate, teasing strokes and he wasn’t above begging.
"You’re killing me, you know."
Neal didn’t answer directly; he just gave Peter a wicked smile and continued the torture until he finally touched Peter’s nipples. They were tight, hard like pebbles, and Peter locked his eyes on Neal’s as Neal pinched them.
"Do you like that?" Peter hissed and Neal pinched them again. Neal repeated the question. "Do you like that?"
Peter finally answered. "Yes, and don’t stop."
"Why were you so stubborn?"
Peter let out a chuff of laughter and closed his eyes, still willing – at least for the moment – to let Neal call the shots.
Neal was stunned by the beauty of the image before him: Peter laying there, acquiescent, willing, but not submissive. His power was dormant, like a resting tiger, or maybe a wolf waiting for his prey in the shadowed forest. He knew that this wouldn't last too much longer, so he took full advantage of the moment.
He was still crouched over, surrounding him like a cage. He kissed him again, a soft kiss against his lips. Peter remained passive, so he deepened it, biting softly at his lower lip. Just as Peter began to respond with a low growl, Neal let go and kissed his chin, licking at the late day beard, delighting in the roughness of it against his tongue. When Peter lifted his head, Neal couldn't help but feel like he was the big cat, and Peter his prey. He bit down gently, barely hard enough to mark, and certainly not hard enough to bruise. He was rewarded when Peter’s hips surged up, rocking hard against him, the evidence of his pleasure almost burning him.
Neal's tongue again lingered at the mole at the base of Peter’s throat, then moved down, licking at Peter’s nipples—swollen from the torment he'd inflicted earlier—before working his way down to his abdomen. He gripped Peter’s ribs firmly, holding him in place while he teased at his belly button, licking just the rim with his tongue.
Peter moaned, panting slightly. Neal looked up and their eyes met over the sweaty expanse of Peter's torso. Peter licked his lips and said, "I’m going to do that to your ass someday."
In an instant, Neal felt himself losing control, losing the will, even, to control the scene, as he thought about Peter licking him there. But he had Peter quiescent under his hand and managed to refocus on what he was doing, going back to work on Peter’s navel, fucking it with his tongue, toying with it, torturing it.
He sensed that Peter was about to go over the edge. Or maybe it was the way the damp spot on the front of his jeans was so rapidly growing. It took some effort, but he got the first button opened, and then the second. He struggled with the rest, but Peter gave him a hand, literally - shoving his right hand down his fly, his palm pressing his cock down and Neal was finally able to rip open the rest of his fly. Peter kept his hand there, an oddly protective gesture, until he started stroking himself under his boxers.
Neal watched Peter’s hand move for a few moments, unbearably aroused, before he pulled off Peter’s shorts. He wanted to see Peter's cock, hard and ready for him. He crouched at Peter's feet and pressed a kiss against the back of the hand that was still stroking. "Come on, let me see all of it."
Peter let his hand fall to his hip and Neal gasped. He knew Peter was a big man, but this was unexpected.
"You are a beast, Peter Burke." Neal hadn’t intended to vocalize that thought. "Now I know why you dominate every room you walk into."
Peter chuckled weakly. "Very funny."
"I’m not joking." Neal looked at it again, trying to bring some long-dormant artist's perspective to it. "I mean, it's perfectly proportioned - but, damn." Neal smiled. At one point, before his life had taken such a disastrous turn, he'd had something of a size kink. Peter's dick brought that back into full bloom.
Peter shifted his leg, bringing one up against Neal's groin. "Bet you're not a small man either, Neal Caffrey."
"You'll find out soon enough." Neal managed to pull Peter's jeans and boxers all the way off, smiling at the image of a man naked except for a pair of black socks. His smile died when he saw the mass of scars on Peter's thigh - runnels and groove of scar tissue, a fist-sized indentation covered by skin that was almost unnaturally smooth. Peter moved to cover it, but there was no way that Neal was going to let him. He worshipped it, trying to convey without words the sorrow he felt over such a grave injury, his gratitude to the doctors who saved the leg and Peter's life, and to Peter, for having the strength of will to overcome the damage and rebuild himself.
Tears welled and dampened the hot skin.
"Enough, enough." Peter pulled Neal up and in his arms. "It’s my turn, now."
He worshipped Neal, exploring his body much as Neal had explored his, searching for all the hidden erogenous zones, like the tiny fold of skin in front of his armpit, the dense musculature that framed his collarbone, the deep cup in his throat. Peter didn’t let a single bit of skin go untouched. He learned Neal, his pleasures, his truths, through his lips and tongue and the glide of his fingertips.
Neal writhed under him, his eyes stayed closed, his face that of an angel fallen into ecstasy. He arched his back and uttered a single word, a prayer, a plea. "Peter…"
Peter understood the gift that was offered in this, the trust and faith that was placed in his hands. They could talk about the past, about their fears, about desire and need until the world fell to pieces, but now they both needed to marry action with words. He pulled back just enough to make Neal whimper and open his eyes.
Peter smiled at him. "I want you as naked as I am." Neal smiled back and relaxed against the bed as Peter pulled of his pants and briefs. "So you don’t always go commando."
"No – that was a special occasion." Neal rolled his hips, so obviously hungry for his touch.
Peter figured he’d get that story another time. There was more enticing avenues of investigation before him.
"And you had the nerve to comment about my dick…"
Neal laughed, "But you’ll be the one fucking me."
"If that’s what you want."
Neal leaned up on one elbow, looking at Peter down the length of his body. "Yes."
Peter swallowed against the lump in his throat; he understood all the implications in that single syllable.
Neal arched his body again, his hard, hot cock brushing against Peter’s cheek. He couldn’t resist the invitation offered. Neal was so aroused that his dick was nearly flush with his lower belly, the tip almost reaching his navel.
Peter breathed over that cock, and the warm stream of air aroused Neal still further, his balls began to draw up tight and a drop of precome pearled through his slit. He licked a single strip with the flat of his tongue, from base to tip, and then back down.
Neal moaned as Peter started to suckle his balls, taking one, then the other into his mouth, laving each one with his tongue before letting it slide out with a wet pop. Peter licked him again, teasing along the big vein, under the hood, dipping into his leaking slit before engulfing the head with his mouth.
He held Neal down at his hips, refusing to let him surge up into his mouth. His throat was relaxed, his mouth filled with saliva as he swallowed Neal almost all the way down. There was an art to this, and while Peter might not have the ability to paint or draw or sculpt, he loved giving head and considered himself as much of a grand master as Michelangelo. Peter reveled in his skill, knowing how to bring maximum pleasure to his partners, but Neal was so big, his desire was so urgent that it took all his strength to control him.
When Neal’s hands grasped his head, his fingernails scraping against his scalp, Peter almost lost control. Everyone had a private erogenous zone, and this was his. Peter didn’t block out the sensation of Neal’s fingers in his hair, but he forced himself to concentrate on the feel of his dick in his mouth. He slide up, just barely keeping the head in his mouth, and then almost all of the way down again. He could feel the count the pulse beats in the big veins against his lips, and he swallowed the precome that was continuously leaking. Peter moved his mouth up and down one more time before he let go of Neal’s hips, cupping his hands around his cock.
Neal orgasmed, filling Peter’s mouth with sweet-bitter semen. He swallowed until he couldn’t anymore; finally letting Neal’s cock slide all of the way out of his mouth and looked up the length of Neal’s body. Neal’s dazed, wrecked, there were tears streaming out of his closed eyes. Peter couldn’t tell if Neal was just panting or if he was sobbing.
Peter swallowed again, licked his lips and climbed back up the bed, until they were face to face. He brushed his hand against Neal’s damp cheek, gently against his forehead, tangling a little in his sweat-soaked curls. Neal was crying. "What’s the matter?" He was troubled, worried that he did something wrong. That he went too far and somehow triggered something bad for Neal.
Neal finally opened his eyes and looked at Peter, the blue almost completely taken over by his blown pupils. Neal’s mouth opened, but no words formed. He surged up against Peter and kissed him as if the universe was about to end. Or maybe as it had just been born anew.
Neal wasn’t sure how he was still alive, if he was still alive, except that it shouldn’t feel this good to be dead. The orgasm that Peter pulled out of him was devastating, but it was more than mechanics and friction, more than the feel of a skilled mouth on his cock. It was the absolute intimacy of the act that wrecked him. It had been so long since he allowed anyone to be this close to him, so long since he trusted anyone – including himself - enough to become that vulnerable.
When he opened his eyes, he was looking right into Peter’s, and he was swallowed whole by their brilliant darkness. He tried to tell Peter what he was feeling, but he couldn’t make the words come out. It was clear that Peter was worried, that he was afraid that somehow he’d hurt him. Neal wanted to comfort him, tell him it was okay, but the words still wouldn’t form and all he could think was that he needed to kiss Peter, that he wanted to crawl into his skin, give back at least some of the pleasure he had just received.
He kissed Peter, tasting himself on the other man’s lips, on his tongue, in his mouth and he felt himself growing hard again. The need to impress himself on Peter, to burn himself into the other man’s soul was so urgent and all-consuming that it shocked him and he broke their kiss.
Peter threaded a hand through his hair and tried to bring him back into their kiss, but Neal didn’t let him. "Neal? Are you all right? "
Neal finally found the words. "Yes, yes, yes." He felt like he could say that for eternity. "I’m fine and you’re perfect and I never want this to end. I’m yours forever." He was stunned by his own words, the admission was almost too easy to make.
Peter didn’t reply, and now Neal was the one who was worried that he went too far, that he said too much. He opened his mouth to retract, to apologize, but Peter put a gentle finger against his lips and smiled.
"Thank you." The words were simple and stark and heartfelt.
They remained like that for a heartbeat, then another. Neal kissed Peter fingers and rested his head against the other man. "We’re not done, you know." Neal slid a hand down Peter’s body, capturing his hard, heavy cock. "Not by a long shot." He stroked him, loving how the flesh surged against his palm.
"Are you sure?" Peter whispered. "I don’t need …"
Neal angled his neck and looked up. "I’m going to be selfish, you know. I need this, I want this. I want you to fuck me. It’s been too damn long and I want you too damn much to wait anymore."
Peter gazed down at Neal, his dark hair haloed by the pure white cotton pillowcase. "I want this, too. But tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, anything that frightens you, okay?"
Neal nodded. "I don’t think you can ever make me uncomfortable." He rubbed his thigh against Peter’s massively erect cock, and joked, "At least emotionally. Physically … "
"I’ll treat you like spun glass."
"No, you’ll treat me like a man. I’m not going to break from a good, hard fucking." Peter seemed skeptical, but Neal just tilted his head back in invitation.
Which Peter accepted without any more hesitation. He set his teeth against Neal’s throat, his neck, the delicate lobe of his ear, closing gently, trying not to leave visible marks. Neal moved in restless waves beneath him, their bodies aligned, unjoined. Peter felt Neal’s cock, so recently spent, twitch to life against his own aching, hard dick.
He released the precious flesh. "Tell me you want this." Peter whispered against Neal’s skin, cool marble clothed in hot silk and velvet. "Tell me."
"Yes, yes." Neal repeated, a whine of desire. "Don’t you believe me?"
"I do – I just want to hear you say it." He flipped Neal onto his stomach, but he wasn’t going to take him - not yet. Peter wanted to explore, to learn, to gather all that was Neal Caffrey into him. He was like some beautiful, fey creature - narrow, not small - but perfectly built.
But it wasn’t all of Neal’s body that was driving him a little crazy, just one small, delicious part of it. The back of his head - his dark curls damp from perspiration, exposing the nape of his neck, that exquisite point where a man’s strength meets vulnerability.
Peter leaned over and pressed a kiss at that spot, flicking out his tongue, tasting again the residue of a day’s hard work, and the heady musk of new sweat. The feel of those damp curls against his nose, so seemingly innocent, incited some atavistic, possessive beast in him. Peter fought to control it as he fit his body onto Neal’s, his cock riding that hot, sweet crack. Neal shifted restlessly.
Peter had to ask, because the past was never far from his mind. "You want this? Are you okay?" He held his breath, waiting for the answer.
"Yes, Peter, please. I want this, I want you." Neal’s voice rose and fell like his hips against Peter’s body. "I want you, I need you. Please."
He must have taken leave of his senses when he pressed Neal down into the mattress, impressing his strength on him. Neal stiffened, pushed back, refusing to fully submit. He pressed down harder and Neal began to thrash, to fight him.
"Peter, damn it, let me go."
He did instantly, moving completely off of Neal’s body, and out of the bed. Neal flipped over, panting; there was a wariness in his eyes now. Peter felt his desire flag, then die. "I’m – I’m sorry. I – " Words failed him. He had crossed the line.
"No - no. I just…" Neal stopped, grimaced. "I want this. I just … it’s been a long time since I’ve been in this position." It all came out in a rush. Neal ducked his head.
Peter was appalled at himself. After all the care and concern he’d expressed – the months of careful wooing, he’d just treated Neal like some anonymous fuck. "I don’t know what came over me - I’m not usually like this."
"Like what?" Neal seemed genuinely curious.
"So possessive. Damn, I was like an animal." Peter moved to get off the bed, to put some distance between them. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey, no. Don’t go." Neal held out a hand, grabbed his arm. Peter allowed himself to be pulled back. "I liked it. The last, though - I just wasn’t expecting it."
"Are you sure you’re okay?"
Neal nodded, slowly at first, then with more vigor. "I’m all right. I want this."
Peter ran his hand through his hair, "We’ll go slowly."
"Slowly, I can do slowly." Neal grinned and stretched out against the white bedding.
"You – you’re going to drive me insane." This time, Peter didn’t fall on him like an animal. He took his time, using his hands and mouth to build a fire in Neal, to make him want and know nothing that existed past this room.
Peter looked down at Neal’s cock, massively erect and tight against his belly. It was truly a thing of beauty and he thought about going down on him. His mouth watered, but they’d save that for later, because there would definitely be a later.
He soothed him. "Shh, shh. Gotta take care of you. You want this? You still want this?" This time, the question wasn’t driven by compulsion, but by concern.
"Yes - don’t stop. I’ll die if you stop."
That was all he needed to hear. Peter rolled off Neal’s body for a second and retrieved the condoms and lube he’d put in the night table drawer earlier that day, in the hope that he’d end up here with Neal.
Neal spread his legs wide. It would be easier for both of them if Neal was on his belly, but for this first time, they needed to do this face-to-face.
The slick was cool against his fingers and he warmed it before touching Neal.
"Nnn, Peter … " His finger met natural resistance.
"Relax, can you relax?"
Neal tried and Peter was able to breach him. He worked gently, slowly stretching the tight muscles, adding more lube and another finger. Neal bit his lip and Peter thought he’d never see anything more beautiful. More lube, a third finger and Neal’s hips were humping the air as he worked them back and forth.
"I want you - I want your cock." Neal tried to pull himself up, grabbing at Peter’s arms.
"Okay - you’re sure?"
"Yes, damn it. I want you. How many times am I going to have to tell you?"
Peter felt a grin spread across his face. "You’re awfully bossy."
"But you still like me, right?" Neal’s lips curved into a teasing smile.
The humor was as powerful an aphrodisiac as anything he’d ever experienced. Peter kissed him - slowly devouring that mouth, sass and all. Neal was rubbing himself against his belly, leaving hot streaks of pre-come on his skin. He lifted Neal’s leg over his hip and rubbed the tip of it against his slicked up hole. And pulled back.
Neal whimpered in distress. "Hold on, give me a sec." Peter reached for the condom on the night table, tore open the foil packet, sheathed himself and added some slick.
In that first moment of penetration, Neal’s erection began to flag and he bit his lip, but this time it wasn’t in thwarted desire.
"Sorry, it’s going to hurt, just a bit." Peter forced himself to go slowly, achingly so, giving Neal time to adjust with each millimeter of penetration.
They found their rhythm, slow, careful, like some exquisite tango. Neal was panting, urging him to go faster, wrapping his legs around his waist, drawing him closer. Peter resisted. "No, Neal - don’t rush this. I don’t want to hurt you."
He kept up the long, slow thrusts, he wanted to imprint himself on Neal, he wanted this to never end. The slide of skin and slick and sweat, the taste of Neal, the scent of them, together was maddening - for both of them. Orgasm caught them both by surprise. Neal came first, his body clamping down tight on Peter, pulling it out of him, making the universe burn white.
Peter was still on top of him, his weight almost uncomfortable, but Neal didn't think he could move. And in truth, he didn't want to. If he died right now, he'd die a happy, contented and very satisfied man.
He was actually a little sorry when Peter came to his senses and rolled off him. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Better than fine." He wanted to tell Peter that he'd never been better in his entire life, but this wasn't the time for that.
Peter leaned up on one elbow and brushed the curls off of Neal’s forehead. There was a grave expression in his eyes. "You sure?"
Neal reached up and touched Peter's face. "Yes. I'm absolutely, utterly and completely positive. He kissed him, trying to give the reassurance that Peter needed.
It worked and Peter responded, and the kiss became something slow and lingering, golden and hazy around the edges. All desire but nothing urgent as they feasted on each other.
Peter murmured something about getting them cleaned up. He got out of bed and Neal was chilled, but not so uncomfortable that the needed to move under the covers. He heard the water running, as if from a great distance. Peter returned and Neal gave him a lazy smile.
"You're beautiful, you know."
"You're crazy, you know."
"Hmmm, maybe. But you're still beautiful."
Peter laughed and kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Can you scoot over?"
Neal moved and Peter managed to get the covers out of the way. He ran the washcloth over Neal's torso and down his body, wiping away the sweat and come before disappearing again. Only to return with a dry towel.
Peter dried him off and his eyes drifted shut. He was safe and happy and loved. All Neal wanted at the moment was to sleep. A thought occurred and his eyes snapped open.
"Peter?"
"What's the matter?"
"Will you..." Neal bit his lip, unable to finish the question. In his head, he sounded so needy.
But Peter seemed to understand. "Of course I will, there's no question about that." Peter climbed back into the enormous bed and turned Neal around, tucking his head into his shoulder.
"I’m sorry."
"Haven't we talked about unnecessary apologies?" He placed a soft kiss on Neal’s cheek.
"You’re not going anywhere?" Neal relaxed against him.
"No. I’ll be here when you wake."
Tags:
- character: clinton jones,
- character: diana berrigan,
- character: elizabeth burke,
- character: june ellington,
- character: mozzie,
- character: neal caffrey,
- character: omc,
- character: peter burke,
- character: reese hughes,
- character: satchmo,
- genre: abuse,
- genre: alternative universe,
- genre: angst,
- genre: badassery,
- genre: emotional trauma,
- genre: first time,
- genre: friendship,
- genre: hurt/comfort,
- genre: marital sex,
- genre: pre-ot3,
- genre: romance,
- genre: slash,
- kink: anal sex,
- kink: frotting,
- kink: kissing,
- kink: oral sex,
- pairing: elizabeth/neal,
- pairing: elizabeth/omc,
- pairing: peter/elizabeth,
- pairing: peter/neal,
- type: fan fiction,
- type: longfic,
- wc verse: vet neal,
- white collar,
- written for: polyamory big bang,
- year: 2013
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-11-20 12:49 pm (UTC)Peter is definitely not Keller, the fact that he is constantly thinking and worrying that he might do something that could hurt Neal already places him light years away from Keller *hugs him* The fact that Neal had to actually spell it out for him made me smile :D That's Peter - how can you not love him? :D
no subject
Date: 2013-11-21 01:57 pm (UTC)You are the best!
no subject
Date: 2013-11-21 12:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-21 02:09 pm (UTC)Fans you.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-21 06:39 am (UTC)Dang, take a ticket girlfriend and join the line!
*fans self and stumbles to fridge*
no subject
Date: 2013-11-21 02:09 pm (UTC)Hands you a cold drink!
no subject
Date: 2013-11-23 11:02 pm (UTC)I loved the bit about how Peter treats Satch and how Neal knows because of that Peter is a good man.