![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: Your Sand Castle Virtues Are All Swept Away
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Peter/Neal
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Crack AND Angst. Only in Underpants’verse can the two co-exist so peacefully.
Word Count: ~1500
Summary: It’s Underpants’verse! Peter’s still at it, but this time, Neal doesn’t need webcams to figure out who the thief is.
Author’s Notes: Isn’t it the rule in fandom, four stories on a single theme make a ‘verse? Well, in that case, Peter the Underpants Thief is officially a ‘verse. Written forrabidchild67 who was looking for a story where Neal calls Peter out on his behavior, and tells him exactly what he wants. Title is from the Jethro Tull masterpiece, Thick as a Brick.
Beta'd byjrosemary. Thank you! All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
__________________
It takes Neal about six months to figure out who is stealing and returning his dirty underpants. And he’s annoyed at himself that it took that long.
It isn’t June, it isn’t Moz (and the thought of Moz getting within ten feet of his day-worn smallclothes is ludicrous), and while he briefly considered Cindy, a few comments she had once made about Sara makes him think that she’d be more interested in her dirty scanties than his boxer briefs.
No – it is Peter Burke, FBI Agent and underpants thief. His biggest clue is that they are all slightly stretched out when he finds them clean and folded in his closet.
At first, he’s appalled at the thought. This man is his friend, his boss and the one person he trusts above all else. The man he sacrificed everything for. What the hell is doing with them?
The night after his discovery, Neal tries to sleep, but his imagination torments him. Is Peter wearing them? He gets this image of Peter, who is bigger than him in just about every respect, wearing nothing but the too-small briefs, posing in front of a mirror like a demented bodybuilder. Then another sick thought occurs to him – maybe Peter is stealing them and making Elizabeth wear them. Maybe they play kinky sex games and Peter spanks El while she is gagged with his dirty underpants.
This goes on for a week. He manages not to think about it during the day, but at night, his brain runs amok. Even when he manages to sleep, Neal is tortured by sex dreams of Peter and his own underwear.
It is killing him. How in the world is he supposed to concentrate when the object of his deepest fantasies is doing nasty things to his underpants? He’s lusted after Peter for years. It had started the moment he laid eyes on him that day in front of the bank when he gave him the lime green sucker – it wasn’t just to aggravate the man, Neal had hoped he’d unwrap and put it in his mouth. And suck on it.
He’s had wet dreams about Peter’s mouth for years – during his spree through Europe and especially in prison. For a while, after he made his deal with Peter, he had thought that maybe Peter wanted him in that way. It had seemed obvious, with the talk about owning him for the next four years, and Peter is always putting his hands on him, touching in ways that were perfectly normal and highly inappropriate. There were times that he nearly dropped to his knees and whimpered for mercy when Peter put his hand on the small of his back.
But after Kate - after the debacle with Fowler and the music box - the broken trust between them - that closeness ebbed away. And yet sometimes he catches Peter looking at him, an expression on his face that Neal would like to interpret as longing but tells himself is probably exasperation. Or gas.
He wants Peter. He wants him with an intensity bordering on madness. But as much as Moz likes to tweak him about his lack of impulse control, he has done a very good job of restraining himself. Peter is exempt from his See-Want-Take way of life. Peter is married. Peter is a good man.
And now, Peter is stealing his underpants.
For three days, Neal dodges Peter; doing everything he can not to be alone with him. But he can’t maintain the artificial distance. A complex art fraud case is dropped in their laps and everyone is looking to him to provide the insider’s view. Friday night, when he skips out early, Peter simply tracks him back to his apartment. The routine is familiar, a six-pack of Heisler Gold, a bottle of “wine” with a screw top cap, a load of files and Peter as eager as Satchmo when someone said “fetch.”
And of course, Peter is completely irresistible, testing all of Neal’s best intentions. But when Peter excuses himself to the bathroom, “to get rid of the excess beer,” Neal wonders if he is going to be a pair of underpants short.
Peter isn’t gone long and Neal can’t discern any bulges in his pockets. But he had to check anyway. He waits a few minutes, made his own excuses and goes to check the hamper. As he suspected and as he feared, the pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs that were on the top of his dirty laundry is gone.
Peter is standing out on the terrace, admiring the view.
“Three years, and I still can’t get over this view.”
Neal smiles. “It’s really rather impossible, isn’t it.”
“Yeah – having the Chrysler building just there. I look at it and it’s still hard to wrap my head around it.”
“Hmmm – the world is filled with impossible things, if you look hard enough.”
Peter chuckles and turns his back to the view. “Yeah – that’s something you’ve taught me.”
“And I was going to say – you’ve taught me a few things that are pretty impossible too.”
Peter raises his eyebrows and gives him a satisfied look. “Like how much better it is to be an honest man?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Huh?” Neal takes satisfaction in Peter’s confusion.
“I could say you taught me how a hypocrite can masquerade as an honest man.” He leaves it at that.
“Neal?”
He sighs. There is little point in continuing this. “You’re a thief, Peter Burke. And a liar. And a hypocrite.” There’s no heat in Neal’s voice. Just sadness.
Peter stands there with his mouth opened.
“You come into my home and steal my dirty underpants. And what’s worse, you’ve stolen my peace of mind and my willpower.”
“Neal…”
“What are you doing with them?”
“I…”
Neal doesn’t wait for Peter to dig up an answer. He presses him back against the stone merlon. “I’ve wanted you for years, Peter Burke. I’ve lusted and loved and longed for you like child longs for the moon. But I’ve kept away – I’ve done the right thing for the right reasons. I’ve stolen fortunes, crossed boundaries, never hesitated to take what I’ve wanted, except for you.”
Neal keeps pushing, knowing that Peter can feel his arousal, his desire.
“But you’ve always been the one thing I swore I’d never touch. You’re married – you love your wife and I could never imagine that there would be anyone that could penetrate…” Neal rubbed himself against Peter, against the hot, hard ridge in the other man’s pants. “The perfect circle of Peter-and-Elizabeth.”
“Neal, please.” Peter breathes. “Please stop.”
It doesn’t sound like a command and Neal refuses to obey.
“You’re stealing my underpants, Peter. You have a pair of my dirty, day-worn briefs on you, don’t you?” Neal leans close, his lips against Peter’s ear. “You’re wearing them, aren’t you?”
Neal reaches between them, quickly unbuckles Peter’s belt, unbuttons and unzips his pants. Neal doesn’t look down as he shoves a hand inside.
And finds the loot. Instead of just Peter’s boxers, there is a pair of his briefs, too.
“You kinky man.” Neal whispers in Peter’s ear. “How long?”
He feels Peter’s heart pounding against him. “Years. Forever.”
Neal presses a soft, forbidden kiss against the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Tell me, tell me.”
“Since I first saw you. You’ve been in my nightmares, my dreams for years.”
Neal doesn’t say anything. The possibilities running through his brain were frightening.
“Does Elizabeth know?” Neal has never thought of himself as a man of honor – except when it comes to denying himself this.
And the relief he feels at Peter’s answer is almost orgasmic. “She’s been taunting me with you since she first met you. We’re in bed and sometimes she asks me to call her Neal – usually when I’m fucking her ass.”
Neal hisses – Peter is pushing back at him now, but he isn’t going to let him take control.
“I am not a toy, to be taken out and played with. To be put back in a box when you’re done, or left out in the rain. Peter. I love you, you know. For all this time, I’ve kept my hands off you – you weren’t mine to take. But now - you do this to me - you don’t get to pull back.”
Neal spreads himself against Peter - there is nothing but layers of soft cotton between them. “You deny me now, I’m gone. It will be as if I never was. You’ll never find me.”
Peter takes a deep breath. “No - I can’t. Not anymore.”
“Then say it, Peter. Say it now.” His voice is a whisper, but his words are a shout.
Peter turns his head to look Neal in the eye. “I love you, Neal. That’s the undeniable truth. And I’ll never let you go.”
The words are a balm to Neal’s soul - filling all of the empty spaces. Making him whole.
Peter’s arms wrap around him, and in the minutes and hours under the starblind night, they both find peace. Neal rests his head against Peter’s heart and smiles. Tomorrow will be soon enough to find out what he’s doing with the underpants.
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Peter/Neal
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Crack AND Angst. Only in Underpants’verse can the two co-exist so peacefully.
Word Count: ~1500
Summary: It’s Underpants’verse! Peter’s still at it, but this time, Neal doesn’t need webcams to figure out who the thief is.
Author’s Notes: Isn’t it the rule in fandom, four stories on a single theme make a ‘verse? Well, in that case, Peter the Underpants Thief is officially a ‘verse. Written for
rabidchild67 who was looking for a story where Neal calls Peter out on his behavior, and tells him exactly what he wants. Title is from the Jethro Tull masterpiece, Thick as a Brick.Beta'd by
jrosemary. Thank you! All mistakes are mine and mine alone.It takes Neal about six months to figure out who is stealing and returning his dirty underpants. And he’s annoyed at himself that it took that long.
It isn’t June, it isn’t Moz (and the thought of Moz getting within ten feet of his day-worn smallclothes is ludicrous), and while he briefly considered Cindy, a few comments she had once made about Sara makes him think that she’d be more interested in her dirty scanties than his boxer briefs.
No – it is Peter Burke, FBI Agent and underpants thief. His biggest clue is that they are all slightly stretched out when he finds them clean and folded in his closet.
At first, he’s appalled at the thought. This man is his friend, his boss and the one person he trusts above all else. The man he sacrificed everything for. What the hell is doing with them?
The night after his discovery, Neal tries to sleep, but his imagination torments him. Is Peter wearing them? He gets this image of Peter, who is bigger than him in just about every respect, wearing nothing but the too-small briefs, posing in front of a mirror like a demented bodybuilder. Then another sick thought occurs to him – maybe Peter is stealing them and making Elizabeth wear them. Maybe they play kinky sex games and Peter spanks El while she is gagged with his dirty underpants.
This goes on for a week. He manages not to think about it during the day, but at night, his brain runs amok. Even when he manages to sleep, Neal is tortured by sex dreams of Peter and his own underwear.
It is killing him. How in the world is he supposed to concentrate when the object of his deepest fantasies is doing nasty things to his underpants? He’s lusted after Peter for years. It had started the moment he laid eyes on him that day in front of the bank when he gave him the lime green sucker – it wasn’t just to aggravate the man, Neal had hoped he’d unwrap and put it in his mouth. And suck on it.
He’s had wet dreams about Peter’s mouth for years – during his spree through Europe and especially in prison. For a while, after he made his deal with Peter, he had thought that maybe Peter wanted him in that way. It had seemed obvious, with the talk about owning him for the next four years, and Peter is always putting his hands on him, touching in ways that were perfectly normal and highly inappropriate. There were times that he nearly dropped to his knees and whimpered for mercy when Peter put his hand on the small of his back.
But after Kate - after the debacle with Fowler and the music box - the broken trust between them - that closeness ebbed away. And yet sometimes he catches Peter looking at him, an expression on his face that Neal would like to interpret as longing but tells himself is probably exasperation. Or gas.
He wants Peter. He wants him with an intensity bordering on madness. But as much as Moz likes to tweak him about his lack of impulse control, he has done a very good job of restraining himself. Peter is exempt from his See-Want-Take way of life. Peter is married. Peter is a good man.
And now, Peter is stealing his underpants.
For three days, Neal dodges Peter; doing everything he can not to be alone with him. But he can’t maintain the artificial distance. A complex art fraud case is dropped in their laps and everyone is looking to him to provide the insider’s view. Friday night, when he skips out early, Peter simply tracks him back to his apartment. The routine is familiar, a six-pack of Heisler Gold, a bottle of “wine” with a screw top cap, a load of files and Peter as eager as Satchmo when someone said “fetch.”
And of course, Peter is completely irresistible, testing all of Neal’s best intentions. But when Peter excuses himself to the bathroom, “to get rid of the excess beer,” Neal wonders if he is going to be a pair of underpants short.
Peter isn’t gone long and Neal can’t discern any bulges in his pockets. But he had to check anyway. He waits a few minutes, made his own excuses and goes to check the hamper. As he suspected and as he feared, the pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs that were on the top of his dirty laundry is gone.
Peter is standing out on the terrace, admiring the view.
“Three years, and I still can’t get over this view.”
Neal smiles. “It’s really rather impossible, isn’t it.”
“Yeah – having the Chrysler building just there. I look at it and it’s still hard to wrap my head around it.”
“Hmmm – the world is filled with impossible things, if you look hard enough.”
Peter chuckles and turns his back to the view. “Yeah – that’s something you’ve taught me.”
“And I was going to say – you’ve taught me a few things that are pretty impossible too.”
Peter raises his eyebrows and gives him a satisfied look. “Like how much better it is to be an honest man?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Huh?” Neal takes satisfaction in Peter’s confusion.
“I could say you taught me how a hypocrite can masquerade as an honest man.” He leaves it at that.
“Neal?”
He sighs. There is little point in continuing this. “You’re a thief, Peter Burke. And a liar. And a hypocrite.” There’s no heat in Neal’s voice. Just sadness.
Peter stands there with his mouth opened.
“You come into my home and steal my dirty underpants. And what’s worse, you’ve stolen my peace of mind and my willpower.”
“Neal…”
“What are you doing with them?”
“I…”
Neal doesn’t wait for Peter to dig up an answer. He presses him back against the stone merlon. “I’ve wanted you for years, Peter Burke. I’ve lusted and loved and longed for you like child longs for the moon. But I’ve kept away – I’ve done the right thing for the right reasons. I’ve stolen fortunes, crossed boundaries, never hesitated to take what I’ve wanted, except for you.”
Neal keeps pushing, knowing that Peter can feel his arousal, his desire.
“But you’ve always been the one thing I swore I’d never touch. You’re married – you love your wife and I could never imagine that there would be anyone that could penetrate…” Neal rubbed himself against Peter, against the hot, hard ridge in the other man’s pants. “The perfect circle of Peter-and-Elizabeth.”
“Neal, please.” Peter breathes. “Please stop.”
It doesn’t sound like a command and Neal refuses to obey.
“You’re stealing my underpants, Peter. You have a pair of my dirty, day-worn briefs on you, don’t you?” Neal leans close, his lips against Peter’s ear. “You’re wearing them, aren’t you?”
Neal reaches between them, quickly unbuckles Peter’s belt, unbuttons and unzips his pants. Neal doesn’t look down as he shoves a hand inside.
And finds the loot. Instead of just Peter’s boxers, there is a pair of his briefs, too.
“You kinky man.” Neal whispers in Peter’s ear. “How long?”
He feels Peter’s heart pounding against him. “Years. Forever.”
Neal presses a soft, forbidden kiss against the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Tell me, tell me.”
“Since I first saw you. You’ve been in my nightmares, my dreams for years.”
Neal doesn’t say anything. The possibilities running through his brain were frightening.
“Does Elizabeth know?” Neal has never thought of himself as a man of honor – except when it comes to denying himself this.
And the relief he feels at Peter’s answer is almost orgasmic. “She’s been taunting me with you since she first met you. We’re in bed and sometimes she asks me to call her Neal – usually when I’m fucking her ass.”
Neal hisses – Peter is pushing back at him now, but he isn’t going to let him take control.
“I am not a toy, to be taken out and played with. To be put back in a box when you’re done, or left out in the rain. Peter. I love you, you know. For all this time, I’ve kept my hands off you – you weren’t mine to take. But now - you do this to me - you don’t get to pull back.”
Neal spreads himself against Peter - there is nothing but layers of soft cotton between them. “You deny me now, I’m gone. It will be as if I never was. You’ll never find me.”
Peter takes a deep breath. “No - I can’t. Not anymore.”
“Then say it, Peter. Say it now.” His voice is a whisper, but his words are a shout.
Peter turns his head to look Neal in the eye. “I love you, Neal. That’s the undeniable truth. And I’ll never let you go.”
The words are a balm to Neal’s soul - filling all of the empty spaces. Making him whole.
Peter’s arms wrap around him, and in the minutes and hours under the starblind night, they both find peace. Neal rests his head against Peter’s heart and smiles. Tomorrow will be soon enough to find out what he’s doing with the underpants.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 05:57 pm (UTC)You know what I think of this. I kees thees feek - *MWAH*
no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:33 pm (UTC)Guiding Light? International Male Catalogue?
no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 06:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 06:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:33 pm (UTC)*blushes*
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-01 11:23 pm (UTC)Sorry, I just couldn't resist that pun! :-)
no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:34 pm (UTC)Thank you, bb!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 06:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-02 02:35 pm (UTC)Thank you so much.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 11:03 pm (UTC)I seem to be mixing crack with just about everything these days. Becoming *quite* the dealer!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 09:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-04 11:04 pm (UTC)I love Assertive!Neal too - he needs to take charge more often.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 12:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 01:29 am (UTC)Sigh.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-05 11:24 pm (UTC)Thank you darling!
no subject
Date: 2011-08-14 03:36 am (UTC)