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elrhiarhodanTitle: Sounds Like a (Good) Plan – A Birthday Fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
photoash
Author:elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Neal Caffrey/Peter Burke
Spoilers/Episode References: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Orgasm Denial, Spanking, Sleepy Sex, Bruises, Toys
Word Count: ~ 1400
Summary: A little game of give and take.
__________________
Peter looks at his sleeping, fucked out boy and smiles.
He is stretched out on the bed, on his stomach – like a sleeping baby. But Neal is far from a baby. In the early dawn light, Peter admires how Neal’s ass still glows, from palest pink to almost burning red, and every shade between. It glows, except where there were shadows of bruises. If Peter places his hands on Neal’s hips, his waist, those bruises would match his fingers and palms.
Peter smiles.
Neal stirs and snuffles a little, his arms reaching out, his legs and thighs shifting, and the slick and semen between his ass glistens. Neal parts his legs a little more, and Peter can see how sore and red his fucked-out little hole is. How many times did he take his boy last night? Four? Five?
Last night, Peter used his fingers on Neal, in him, opening him up, stretching him to accommodate the toys he had selected. First the silicone plug, then a hard black rubber cock.
He made Neal suck the big black dildo, to lick it, worship it with his mouth. He loved hearing Neal whine around the fake cock, choking a little as the hard, unyielding material repeatedly hit the back of his throat. His boy is such a cock slut. Peter tried to take it away, a little worried that he was hurting him, but Neal chased that thing like a cat with a toy. He wouldn’t let it go, so Peter let him suck on it, to lube it up only with his saliva. When he pulled it away for good, Neal whimpered and begged for it back. Peter hushed him, turned him over on, put him on his knees and splayed him out.
Neal struggled just a little, the position was uncomfortable, but it gave Peter maximum access to that sweet little hole, stretched just enough. When Neal continued to fuss, Peter got out the ropes, and Neal settled down. Over the past year, Peter’s become proficient in tying Neal up, shibari style. He isn’t a master by any means, but he can get his boy properly trussed in a matter of minutes without hurting him. Neal in cuffs is noisy, obstreperous and inclined to power games, but Neal in ropes is pliant, mostly silent and wholly submissive.
Peter played with Neal – refreshing the redness on his ass with another spanking, toying with the rim of his sweet little hole stretched by the plug. He pulled it out in stages, letting Neal enjoy the sensation of withdrawal. When he fully extracted the silicone gelli, Peter admired how well Neal behaved and showered him with lavish praise, crooning his delight.
He doesn’t give Neal time to recover, though. Peter continued to work over Neal’s hole, first with his finger, then with the spit-lubed dildo, pressing that home in one smooth motion, letting it glide over his prostate. Tied as he was, Neal had no choice but to take it and he did, riding the dildo as if it was Peter’s cock. Peter worked it in him with long slow strokes, keeping him on the edge between pain and pleasure.
“Please, Peter. Let me come.” All those lovely manners, that perfect charm; no matter how obscene his position, Neal always begs so prettily.
“Why should I? What have you done for me?” Peter felt like being an utter bastard, and he knew that Neal enjoys that. “Tell me, Neal – what have you done to earn your orgasm?”
His boy whimpered again, just a little, as Peter twisted the dildo inside him, making it scrape against his prostate. But Neal remained the perfect gentleman, albeit one tied up, sporting a massive erection and with a fake cock up his ass, and inside of spewing curses, he just continued to beg, in that sweet and quiet manner.
“You want to come, baby?” Peter leaned over Neal’s back, kissing and licking Neal’s neck, his ear, blowing a cool stream of air across his sweaty skin.
“Yes, I want to come, Peter. Please let me come.”
Peter smiled; he had Neal so very well trained. His boy knew better than to orgasm without permission. He fiddles a bit with Neal’s bindings, running a finger against the bound flesh, where the rope dug into skin and muscle. Neal’s tied tight, and Peter admires his handiwork. Neal’s skin ripples – like a dog being brushed, an atavistic response to Peter’s caress. With the fake cock still buried in his ass, Peter hauls his boy into a kneeling stance.
“You want to come?” He waits for an answer.
“Yes, Peter. Please – I want to come.”
“Then you have to make me come first. Just your mouth, your sweet tongue on my cock. I’m going to fuck your face like it’s another asshole.”
Neal sighed, closed his eyes and simply opened his mouth. Peter didn’t strip; he simply pulled his cock out from his pants and fed it to Neal. The sight of his dick in Neal’s mouth was (as always) obscenely delicious, and the feel of his hot tongue scraping over sensitive skin was even better. Peter didn’t go slowly; he held the back of Neal’s head, gripping his hair tightly as he shoved his cock in and out. Neal took it, the way he took the dildo just a little while before, and Peter fucked that orifice, pushing his cock ever deeper, until he felt Neal choke, and then he shoved it even deeper, until Neal’s nose was buried in his pubic curls and his balls were smacking Neal’s chin.
Peter knows just how far he can push his boy – just how much he can take. It’s all in Neal’s eyes. When it gets to be too much, Neal will look up at him – his pupils no longer dilated from his arousal, and Peter can see that Neal’s unhappy and needs to bring this to an end. That rarely happens – but when it does, Peter quickly, carefully backs off.
But last night, his boy was such a trooper, taking his cock all the way down, holding it there despite the choke, despite the bruising. He used Neal’s mouth like it was his own fist – and when he came, an eruption that rocked him to the soles of his feet, Peter felt Neal gag, hard. He started to pull back, but just as Neal had chased the fake cock earlier, his beautiful, bruised lips clung to the real one. Peter stood still, just letting Neal suck and swallow until there was nothing left.
The night continued like that, Neal eloquently begging Peter for more – whether down his throat, across his face, up his ass. Peter was willing to comply, until he reached his own limits.
When he woke this morning, Neal is wrapped around him like a vine, a slightly stinky, lightly snoring vine, but Peter is able to extricate himself without waking Neal. He showers and figures that the noise will rouse his boy from his slumber, but Neal is still sound asleep when he comes out.
Peter climbs back into bed, and leans over Neal.
“Are you still sleeping?”
All he gets is a garbled mfhph, and a head turned the other way.
“Come on sleepy-head, wake up.”
That gets a slightly more coherent response. “No. Wanna sleep.”
Peter presses kisses down the back of Neal’s neck, tasting the sweat from last night’s fun and games. “But I want to fuck.”
That gets Neal’s attention. He doesn't roll over, just lifts his head and opens his eyes. “You are an animal, you know that?”
Peter licks a long, dirty stripe along his jaw line and enjoys Neal’s shiver. “Yeah, and you love it. You begged and pleaded ‘more, more, more’ all night long.”
Neal’s head hits the pillow again, and his only reply is “mmmm”.
Peter can't help but laugh. “I want to fuck you.” Soft kisses punctuate that declaration.
“Do I have to move?” His eyes are stilled closed, but Neal definitely sounds a little more awake.
“No, you can just lay there and let me enjoy myself.”
“Hmmm, sounds like a plan.” Neal turns his head on the pillow to find a cool spot and goes back to sleep.
FIN
photoashAuthor:
elrhiarhodan Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Neal Caffrey/Peter Burke
Spoilers/Episode References: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Orgasm Denial, Spanking, Sleepy Sex, Bruises, Toys
Word Count: ~ 1400
Summary: A little game of give and take.
Peter looks at his sleeping, fucked out boy and smiles.
He is stretched out on the bed, on his stomach – like a sleeping baby. But Neal is far from a baby. In the early dawn light, Peter admires how Neal’s ass still glows, from palest pink to almost burning red, and every shade between. It glows, except where there were shadows of bruises. If Peter places his hands on Neal’s hips, his waist, those bruises would match his fingers and palms.
Peter smiles.
Neal stirs and snuffles a little, his arms reaching out, his legs and thighs shifting, and the slick and semen between his ass glistens. Neal parts his legs a little more, and Peter can see how sore and red his fucked-out little hole is. How many times did he take his boy last night? Four? Five?
Last night, Peter used his fingers on Neal, in him, opening him up, stretching him to accommodate the toys he had selected. First the silicone plug, then a hard black rubber cock.
He made Neal suck the big black dildo, to lick it, worship it with his mouth. He loved hearing Neal whine around the fake cock, choking a little as the hard, unyielding material repeatedly hit the back of his throat. His boy is such a cock slut. Peter tried to take it away, a little worried that he was hurting him, but Neal chased that thing like a cat with a toy. He wouldn’t let it go, so Peter let him suck on it, to lube it up only with his saliva. When he pulled it away for good, Neal whimpered and begged for it back. Peter hushed him, turned him over on, put him on his knees and splayed him out.
Neal struggled just a little, the position was uncomfortable, but it gave Peter maximum access to that sweet little hole, stretched just enough. When Neal continued to fuss, Peter got out the ropes, and Neal settled down. Over the past year, Peter’s become proficient in tying Neal up, shibari style. He isn’t a master by any means, but he can get his boy properly trussed in a matter of minutes without hurting him. Neal in cuffs is noisy, obstreperous and inclined to power games, but Neal in ropes is pliant, mostly silent and wholly submissive.
Peter played with Neal – refreshing the redness on his ass with another spanking, toying with the rim of his sweet little hole stretched by the plug. He pulled it out in stages, letting Neal enjoy the sensation of withdrawal. When he fully extracted the silicone gelli, Peter admired how well Neal behaved and showered him with lavish praise, crooning his delight.
He doesn’t give Neal time to recover, though. Peter continued to work over Neal’s hole, first with his finger, then with the spit-lubed dildo, pressing that home in one smooth motion, letting it glide over his prostate. Tied as he was, Neal had no choice but to take it and he did, riding the dildo as if it was Peter’s cock. Peter worked it in him with long slow strokes, keeping him on the edge between pain and pleasure.
“Please, Peter. Let me come.” All those lovely manners, that perfect charm; no matter how obscene his position, Neal always begs so prettily.
“Why should I? What have you done for me?” Peter felt like being an utter bastard, and he knew that Neal enjoys that. “Tell me, Neal – what have you done to earn your orgasm?”
His boy whimpered again, just a little, as Peter twisted the dildo inside him, making it scrape against his prostate. But Neal remained the perfect gentleman, albeit one tied up, sporting a massive erection and with a fake cock up his ass, and inside of spewing curses, he just continued to beg, in that sweet and quiet manner.
“You want to come, baby?” Peter leaned over Neal’s back, kissing and licking Neal’s neck, his ear, blowing a cool stream of air across his sweaty skin.
“Yes, I want to come, Peter. Please let me come.”
Peter smiled; he had Neal so very well trained. His boy knew better than to orgasm without permission. He fiddles a bit with Neal’s bindings, running a finger against the bound flesh, where the rope dug into skin and muscle. Neal’s tied tight, and Peter admires his handiwork. Neal’s skin ripples – like a dog being brushed, an atavistic response to Peter’s caress. With the fake cock still buried in his ass, Peter hauls his boy into a kneeling stance.
“You want to come?” He waits for an answer.
“Yes, Peter. Please – I want to come.”
“Then you have to make me come first. Just your mouth, your sweet tongue on my cock. I’m going to fuck your face like it’s another asshole.”
Neal sighed, closed his eyes and simply opened his mouth. Peter didn’t strip; he simply pulled his cock out from his pants and fed it to Neal. The sight of his dick in Neal’s mouth was (as always) obscenely delicious, and the feel of his hot tongue scraping over sensitive skin was even better. Peter didn’t go slowly; he held the back of Neal’s head, gripping his hair tightly as he shoved his cock in and out. Neal took it, the way he took the dildo just a little while before, and Peter fucked that orifice, pushing his cock ever deeper, until he felt Neal choke, and then he shoved it even deeper, until Neal’s nose was buried in his pubic curls and his balls were smacking Neal’s chin.
Peter knows just how far he can push his boy – just how much he can take. It’s all in Neal’s eyes. When it gets to be too much, Neal will look up at him – his pupils no longer dilated from his arousal, and Peter can see that Neal’s unhappy and needs to bring this to an end. That rarely happens – but when it does, Peter quickly, carefully backs off.
But last night, his boy was such a trooper, taking his cock all the way down, holding it there despite the choke, despite the bruising. He used Neal’s mouth like it was his own fist – and when he came, an eruption that rocked him to the soles of his feet, Peter felt Neal gag, hard. He started to pull back, but just as Neal had chased the fake cock earlier, his beautiful, bruised lips clung to the real one. Peter stood still, just letting Neal suck and swallow until there was nothing left.
The night continued like that, Neal eloquently begging Peter for more – whether down his throat, across his face, up his ass. Peter was willing to comply, until he reached his own limits.
When he woke this morning, Neal is wrapped around him like a vine, a slightly stinky, lightly snoring vine, but Peter is able to extricate himself without waking Neal. He showers and figures that the noise will rouse his boy from his slumber, but Neal is still sound asleep when he comes out.
Peter climbs back into bed, and leans over Neal.
“Are you still sleeping?”
All he gets is a garbled mfhph, and a head turned the other way.
“Come on sleepy-head, wake up.”
That gets a slightly more coherent response. “No. Wanna sleep.”
Peter presses kisses down the back of Neal’s neck, tasting the sweat from last night’s fun and games. “But I want to fuck.”
That gets Neal’s attention. He doesn't roll over, just lifts his head and opens his eyes. “You are an animal, you know that?”
Peter licks a long, dirty stripe along his jaw line and enjoys Neal’s shiver. “Yeah, and you love it. You begged and pleaded ‘more, more, more’ all night long.”
Neal’s head hits the pillow again, and his only reply is “mmmm”.
Peter can't help but laugh. “I want to fuck you.” Soft kisses punctuate that declaration.
“Do I have to move?” His eyes are stilled closed, but Neal definitely sounds a little more awake.
“No, you can just lay there and let me enjoy myself.”
“Hmmm, sounds like a plan.” Neal turns his head on the pillow to find a cool spot and goes back to sleep.
