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elrhiarhodanTitle: The Right Place, The Right Time
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing/Characters: Neal Caffrey, Diana Berrigan, Christie, Diana/Christie
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Fisting, Femmeslash, Voyeurism
Summary: Sometimes mixing mojitos and summer rainstorms can lead to the strangest things. Written for Kink Bingo Round 4 – Fisting/Stretching Square.
__________________
It wasn’t intentional, not really. And voyeurism really isn't his kink. He is more of a participation kind of guy. But sometimes, when you got the chance, you keep your eyes opened and your mouth shut. And just maybe, you’ll be rewarded.
______
Neal had invited Christie and Diana over for dinner. He wanted to get to know Diana’s girlfriend, and what better way than a relaxing Saturday night barbeque on a rooftop terrace, overlooking the world.
Or the Upper West Side, which was really the same thing if you were a New Yorker.
And frankly, the idea of spending an evening in the non-threatening company of two highly intelligent women was too good to pass up. He enjoyed Sara and the sex immensely (that was one way to put it), but she was always a challenge and sometimes a guy just needed to relax.
The three of them were sitting on the terrace, enjoying the early summer evening sunshine. Diana and Christie were sharing one of the loungers, a pitcher of mojitos within reach and Neal was getting the grill ready.
“You’ve got your choice for dinner, ladies.”
“Don’t call us ladies, con man.” Diana was on her third mojito, and a little less than fully sober.
Neal grinned. “What should I call you?”
Christie, who was just as beautiful and twice as charming as Diana, held out her hand as if she expected Neal to kiss the back of it. “You can call me “Your Majesty.” She was working on her fourth mojito, and there was no question that she was drunk.
“Stop trying to out-charm him, darling – Caffrey could give lessons to Cary Grant.” She snickered. “And what’s on the menu?”
“What ever your hearts desire – but I know that there’s some big meat in the main kitchen.” Neal hoped he didn’t blush – he needed to watch those double entendres.
“Big meat?”
“Main kitchen?”
Diana and Christie spoke simultaneously.
“The house has five kitchens. And I meant Porterhouses.”
Diana looked at Christie, who gave her a bit of a glare. “Yes – I know you’re a cardiologist – but red meat won’t kill you in moderation.”
Christie sighed, and grinned. They both looked up at Neal.
“So, the big meat it is.”
“Watch your mouth, Caffrey.” Diana joked. “We’re lesbians, and we prefer our meat very rare.”
He left them lounging on the terrace while he went to get the steaks. In the time it took to fetch the food, clouds rolled in and it started to pour - a typical New York City summertime storm - fierce, loud and brief.
Neal had heard the thunder and the rain pound the house as he came back up with the platter of Porterhouses that June’s favorite butcher provided. In the short while he was gone, the quiet evening of enjoyable, if slightly intoxicated company and interesting conversation became something out of a Letter to Penthouse.
The two women had striped out of their wet clothes - down to their skin. There were shirts and trousers and panties and bras draped across all of the furniture in his apartment, and they were teasing each other - tweaking nipples and kissing with lots of visible tongue. All of a sudden, his pants were way too tight, his throat dry and he was living something out one of his best (and maybe one of his filthiest) prison fantasies.
Di was putting some hard moves on her girlfriend, and she had her bent over a chair. Christie’s legs were spread and Neal could easily see that Diana was fingering her. Neal looked on, enraptured.
He must have made a sound because Diana looked up and grinned. “Wanna watch as I fist this little bitch?”
Neal couldn’t breathe, but he must have squeaked out an affirmative – or maybe he nodded. He took a step and then another step closer - slowly, because all the blood rushing to his dick made him dizzy.
He watched as two of Diana’s fingers worked in and out of Christie, drawing out her cream. There was no sound quite like the soft squelching of hard flesh as it pistoned into soft wetness. She added a third finger and Christie gasped.
“Yes, you’re such a tight cunt, aren’t you? That’s why you love getting my hand shoved up your pussy. You like it when I make you scream.”
Neal thought he was going to scream – or go blind – or pass out from the lack of blood and oxygen in his brain.
Diana looked up at him. “Come closer, Caffrey – you don’t want to miss any of this, do you?”
He couldn’t believe how nasty Diana was, and a small part of his brain, the one that he’d gotten so good at ignoring over the course of his criminal career (and even now, when he’s working with the FBI) screamed that this was such a bad idea, and how the hell was he going to ever look Diana in the eye again?
He took a step or two closer – close enough that his obscenely distended fly brushed against Christie’s shoulder. She looked up at him and he stepped back – this was not a crossable boundary. He thought he heard Diana whisper “good boy” but his heart was pounding so hard he couldn’t be sure.
Neal stopped breathing as Diana turned her hand and inserted her fist into her girlfriend’s juicy cunt. The only way he could keep himself from passing out was to maintain eye contact with Christie. He watched her watching him, her pupils dilated from desire - the dark eyes now almost completely black. He brushed his fingers against the front of his trousers, against his aching cock. He would have loved to let it loose and rub one off onto Christie’s face, but he had a feeling Diana would shoot him. With her gun.
Christie bit her lip, trying to stifle her moans as Diana worked her over. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Di’s strongly muscled arm working back and forth, hitting the sweet spots and suddenly, Christie just started to wail - grunting out incoherent sounds of pained pleasure. Her cries were a trigger and Neal came, semen staining the front of his pants from crotch to thigh, and he finally lifted his eyes to see Diana offering him her fingers, slick with her girlfriend’s juices.
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Pairing/Characters: Neal Caffrey, Diana Berrigan, Christie, Diana/Christie
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~1000
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Fisting, Femmeslash, Voyeurism
Summary: Sometimes mixing mojitos and summer rainstorms can lead to the strangest things. Written for Kink Bingo Round 4 – Fisting/Stretching Square.
It wasn’t intentional, not really. And voyeurism really isn't his kink. He is more of a participation kind of guy. But sometimes, when you got the chance, you keep your eyes opened and your mouth shut. And just maybe, you’ll be rewarded.
Neal had invited Christie and Diana over for dinner. He wanted to get to know Diana’s girlfriend, and what better way than a relaxing Saturday night barbeque on a rooftop terrace, overlooking the world.
Or the Upper West Side, which was really the same thing if you were a New Yorker.
And frankly, the idea of spending an evening in the non-threatening company of two highly intelligent women was too good to pass up. He enjoyed Sara and the sex immensely (that was one way to put it), but she was always a challenge and sometimes a guy just needed to relax.
The three of them were sitting on the terrace, enjoying the early summer evening sunshine. Diana and Christie were sharing one of the loungers, a pitcher of mojitos within reach and Neal was getting the grill ready.
“You’ve got your choice for dinner, ladies.”
“Don’t call us ladies, con man.” Diana was on her third mojito, and a little less than fully sober.
Neal grinned. “What should I call you?”
Christie, who was just as beautiful and twice as charming as Diana, held out her hand as if she expected Neal to kiss the back of it. “You can call me “Your Majesty.” She was working on her fourth mojito, and there was no question that she was drunk.
“Stop trying to out-charm him, darling – Caffrey could give lessons to Cary Grant.” She snickered. “And what’s on the menu?”
“What ever your hearts desire – but I know that there’s some big meat in the main kitchen.” Neal hoped he didn’t blush – he needed to watch those double entendres.
“Big meat?”
“Main kitchen?”
Diana and Christie spoke simultaneously.
“The house has five kitchens. And I meant Porterhouses.”
Diana looked at Christie, who gave her a bit of a glare. “Yes – I know you’re a cardiologist – but red meat won’t kill you in moderation.”
Christie sighed, and grinned. They both looked up at Neal.
“So, the big meat it is.”
“Watch your mouth, Caffrey.” Diana joked. “We’re lesbians, and we prefer our meat very rare.”
He left them lounging on the terrace while he went to get the steaks. In the time it took to fetch the food, clouds rolled in and it started to pour - a typical New York City summertime storm - fierce, loud and brief.
Neal had heard the thunder and the rain pound the house as he came back up with the platter of Porterhouses that June’s favorite butcher provided. In the short while he was gone, the quiet evening of enjoyable, if slightly intoxicated company and interesting conversation became something out of a Letter to Penthouse.
The two women had striped out of their wet clothes - down to their skin. There were shirts and trousers and panties and bras draped across all of the furniture in his apartment, and they were teasing each other - tweaking nipples and kissing with lots of visible tongue. All of a sudden, his pants were way too tight, his throat dry and he was living something out one of his best (and maybe one of his filthiest) prison fantasies.
Di was putting some hard moves on her girlfriend, and she had her bent over a chair. Christie’s legs were spread and Neal could easily see that Diana was fingering her. Neal looked on, enraptured.
He must have made a sound because Diana looked up and grinned. “Wanna watch as I fist this little bitch?”
Neal couldn’t breathe, but he must have squeaked out an affirmative – or maybe he nodded. He took a step and then another step closer - slowly, because all the blood rushing to his dick made him dizzy.
He watched as two of Diana’s fingers worked in and out of Christie, drawing out her cream. There was no sound quite like the soft squelching of hard flesh as it pistoned into soft wetness. She added a third finger and Christie gasped.
“Yes, you’re such a tight cunt, aren’t you? That’s why you love getting my hand shoved up your pussy. You like it when I make you scream.”
Neal thought he was going to scream – or go blind – or pass out from the lack of blood and oxygen in his brain.
Diana looked up at him. “Come closer, Caffrey – you don’t want to miss any of this, do you?”
He couldn’t believe how nasty Diana was, and a small part of his brain, the one that he’d gotten so good at ignoring over the course of his criminal career (and even now, when he’s working with the FBI) screamed that this was such a bad idea, and how the hell was he going to ever look Diana in the eye again?
He took a step or two closer – close enough that his obscenely distended fly brushed against Christie’s shoulder. She looked up at him and he stepped back – this was not a crossable boundary. He thought he heard Diana whisper “good boy” but his heart was pounding so hard he couldn’t be sure.
Neal stopped breathing as Diana turned her hand and inserted her fist into her girlfriend’s juicy cunt. The only way he could keep himself from passing out was to maintain eye contact with Christie. He watched her watching him, her pupils dilated from desire - the dark eyes now almost completely black. He brushed his fingers against the front of his trousers, against his aching cock. He would have loved to let it loose and rub one off onto Christie’s face, but he had a feeling Diana would shoot him. With her gun.
Christie bit her lip, trying to stifle her moans as Diana worked her over. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Di’s strongly muscled arm working back and forth, hitting the sweet spots and suddenly, Christie just started to wail - grunting out incoherent sounds of pained pleasure. Her cries were a trigger and Neal came, semen staining the front of his pants from crotch to thigh, and he finally lifted his eyes to see Diana offering him her fingers, slick with her girlfriend’s juices.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-06-06 08:54 pm (UTC)Holy. Fucking. Shit.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-08 03:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-06 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:29 pm (UTC)Hee. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2011-06-06 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:29 pm (UTC)Hope you had fun in your bunk.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 12:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:30 pm (UTC)Thanks you!
no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 12:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:30 pm (UTC)So pleased you were --- ummm --- pleased.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:33 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 09:44 pm (UTC)A sequel to this could be really interesting...
no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 05:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 10:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 01:34 pm (UTC)Girl + girl + gun reference = RUINED PANTIES
no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 02:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 07:36 pm (UTC)And I was all set to leave you f/b on your Goodnita movie - it just made me so very, very happy - I had this huge grin on my face - but you took the entry private.
It made me happy.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-07 10:35 pm (UTC)And, Elr, ohmygosh that was hot. Diana's nasty mouth took me by complete surprise--but who I am to begrudge two willing ladies a scene? Well done. :)
(New kink: badmouth!Diana)