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elrhiarhodanTitle: No Release
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Written For: MMOM 2013 – Thirty-One Dirty Words – Prompt 002 – Hand
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey (Peter/Neal)
Spoilers: NONE
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Slavery, implied prior abuse, implied prior non-con
Word Count: ~425
Summary: A brief continuation of the Master/slave A/U started in A Familiar Command, Peter asks Neal to do something that he no longer thinks possible.
A/N: Written for my dearest friendcoffeethyme4me, who once politely requested more in this ‘verse but never pressured me for it.
__________________
“Touch yourself.”
Neal shivered at Peter’s command. His right hand reached towards his groin, the journey slow, torturous. He cupped his hand around his cock, waiting for the next order.
“Good.” Peter circled him, boot heels clicking against the marble floor.
Long ago, Neal had perfected the ability to pretend desire, to make his masters believe that he wanted everything they did to him. Until his last master, that deceit kept him alive, and if losing the ability to feel pleasure, it was a small enough price to pay.
He’d been here for a week, or so he calculated against the times he rose and was tended to. In this time, Peter had demanded nothing of him. Not until this evening, when he was brought back to the great hall, clad in nothing more than a white linen tunic that the servants removed before they departed.
Peter was there, a demon or a god in black leather. Neal tried not to look at him, tried not to see the man that replaced his boyhood friend. He kept his eyes on the white marble, brilliant in its purity, reflecting the sun that poured through the clerestory windows.
Neal was convinced there was no desire of this man that he couldn’t satisfy. Until Peter gave him a most treacherous command: “I want you to enjoy yourself.”
He hesitated. Self-pleasure had been forbidden, a terrible crime that could mean amputation or death.
“Neal?”
He hated when Peter – his Master – said his name, especially like that; with so much love and concern. He hated the lies in that tone as much as he feared the truth of it. Neal kept his head bowed when Peter stepped in close. He didn’t look up when Peter took his hand and stroked his thumb against the heavy calluses that decorated his palm, relics from the time he spent in the mines.
That single, gentle touch kindled something Neal had thought long dead. He wanted to weep, he wanted to snatch his hand away, he wanted to rest his head against Peter’s thigh and forget about the last ten years. He did none of those things; instead remaining passive, the perfect slave.
Peter rubbed something onto his hand, smoothing it over the calluses. “This should make it better for you.” He placed Neal’s hand over his crotch, curling his fingers around his flaccid cock. “Can you do this for me? Can you learn to enjoy your body again?”
Neal would try, if just to please Peter, to satisfy his Master’s desire.
FIN or maybe TO BE CONTINUED
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Written For: MMOM 2013 – Thirty-One Dirty Words – Prompt 002 – Hand
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey (Peter/Neal)
Spoilers: NONE
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Slavery, implied prior abuse, implied prior non-con
Word Count: ~425
Summary: A brief continuation of the Master/slave A/U started in A Familiar Command, Peter asks Neal to do something that he no longer thinks possible.
A/N: Written for my dearest friend
coffeethyme4me, who once politely requested more in this ‘verse but never pressured me for it.“Touch yourself.”
Neal shivered at Peter’s command. His right hand reached towards his groin, the journey slow, torturous. He cupped his hand around his cock, waiting for the next order.
“Good.” Peter circled him, boot heels clicking against the marble floor.
Long ago, Neal had perfected the ability to pretend desire, to make his masters believe that he wanted everything they did to him. Until his last master, that deceit kept him alive, and if losing the ability to feel pleasure, it was a small enough price to pay.
He’d been here for a week, or so he calculated against the times he rose and was tended to. In this time, Peter had demanded nothing of him. Not until this evening, when he was brought back to the great hall, clad in nothing more than a white linen tunic that the servants removed before they departed.
Peter was there, a demon or a god in black leather. Neal tried not to look at him, tried not to see the man that replaced his boyhood friend. He kept his eyes on the white marble, brilliant in its purity, reflecting the sun that poured through the clerestory windows.
Neal was convinced there was no desire of this man that he couldn’t satisfy. Until Peter gave him a most treacherous command: “I want you to enjoy yourself.”
He hesitated. Self-pleasure had been forbidden, a terrible crime that could mean amputation or death.
“Neal?”
He hated when Peter – his Master – said his name, especially like that; with so much love and concern. He hated the lies in that tone as much as he feared the truth of it. Neal kept his head bowed when Peter stepped in close. He didn’t look up when Peter took his hand and stroked his thumb against the heavy calluses that decorated his palm, relics from the time he spent in the mines.
That single, gentle touch kindled something Neal had thought long dead. He wanted to weep, he wanted to snatch his hand away, he wanted to rest his head against Peter’s thigh and forget about the last ten years. He did none of those things; instead remaining passive, the perfect slave.
Peter rubbed something onto his hand, smoothing it over the calluses. “This should make it better for you.” He placed Neal’s hand over his crotch, curling his fingers around his flaccid cock. “Can you do this for me? Can you learn to enjoy your body again?”
Neal would try, if just to please Peter, to satisfy his Master’s desire.
