White Collar Fic - Between the Lines

[elrhiarhodan]

Title: Between the Lines
Author: elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke/Elizabeth Burke/Neal Caffrey (OT3)
Word Count: ~1100
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Beta Credit: miri_thompson
Summary: Sometimes they meet in an anonymous hotel room for a wordless fuck.

Author’s Note: Originally written for Round Three of the Brackets Challenge at the D.C. Meetup in November, 2013. The prompt was "Open Relationship" and the theme was "Porn." Revised and polished up in honor of my dear friend, kanarek13's birthday. Happy birthday!

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Her mouth skims along his thigh, gently biting along the long length of muscle and he writhes against the sheets.

Another set of lips, hotter, more urgent, more demanding is devouring his mouth. A tongue, sly and sneaky, steals in, taking his breath and his will, stoking his desire. These lips are familiar but unfamiliar - he’s seen them day after day for so many years, he's fantasized about them, woken up hot and sweating from dreaming about them. The reality is so much better. And that is always a revelation, each and every time they do this.

Having those lips on his, the scruff of a beard rubbing against his cheeks, is almost as hot as the mouth working slowing up his inner thigh. It's tormenting him, deliberately bypassing his cock and balls, ghosting over the soft skin where his groin met his hips before biting down at the most sensitive part of his waist.

“Elizabeth…” He gets out that one word before the other mouth silences him.

“You know the rules…”

He did. This is supposed to be an anonymous fuck in an anonymous hotel room. No names, just bodies coming together in a perfect concert of desire. They don't need to be anonymous; they don't need the subterfuge, the games. They've been friends and lovers for so long that coming together is like putting on your oldest, most comfortable pair of jeans. But every once and a while, they need the spice, the heat and danger of the early days when even the barest hint of an improper relationship could send two of them to jail.

So they play these games. A calendar reminder appears on a cell phone, a keycard arrives by courier, and they’ll meet in a bland hotel room with a big bed and clean sheets and pretend they are strangers answering an ad.

He tries to keep up the pretense, but it feels foolish, even though he pretends so often in his real life. His partners, however, enjoy it. He isn't a selfish man, and pleasing them is just as important as satisfying his own needs. He plays along as much as he can, until it gets too be too much.

The mouth on his retreats from his lips, but the torment doesn't stop. First his neck, then his jaw, his earlobes, it doesn't stop. Her mouth is just as relentless, teasing the skin just above his pubes, licking and sucking her way up to his navel. He screams when she starts to fuck her tongue in and out of the tiny cup, her teeth catching on the fold of skin, gently tugging like some lioness toying with her prey.

“Please…” He twists against the sheets, hips arching up, seeing more.

“Shh… We’ve got you.”

He doesn't want to be soothed, he wants more. He needs more.

And he gets more as his lovers escalate their attentions. Her mouth abandons his belly for harder territory. She doesn't swallow him, just keeps him on the edge with those tender bites, the loving, tormenting licks. At least until she surrenders her place to her partner in crime.

They change places and she's leaning over him, her long dark hair falling like a curtain around them. “Kiss me,” she commands.

He obeys, not just because kissing is such a pleasure, but because he could never disobey her. It had been that way from the first. She asks and he obeys, in this and in all things. Obedience isn't really his nature, but in this instance, he has no will to deny her. She calls the shots in their relationship, especially on nights like this, when they come together at her command. Over the years, their roles have been defined by her needs and wants and desires. She isn't selfish, far from it - she's a strong woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to go after it.

He's fine with that, especially when she's kissing him like she needs the air from his lungs to keep breathing. Her taste makes him dizzy with want, even after all this time.

Or it could have been the mouth on his dick. No teasing licks from him, he goes deep and hums his pleasure, the vibrations setting his own nerves jangling. There is something to be said for the familiar, the man working his cock knows what he likes, he knows just how to drive him up to his limits, keep him hanging just a moment less than too long, and ratchet him past that point over and over again.

A strong finger, careful and sly, breaches his ass. The sensation is almost too much. The mouth on his dick is taking no prisoners, but the finger working him open is treating him like he’s never done this before. And her mouth was still at his, tormenting him to the point of madness.

He needs to touch his lovers. At least his hands aren’t bound (although that could be a particular delight), and he runs his hand down her body, reveling in velvet softness. She straddles him and he leans up, trying to give her pleasure in return.

“No, no - we’re here for you tonight.”

“But…” He protests, and again he is silenced. Not that he minds, her method is simple, effective and direct. She bends forward, capturing his face between her breasts. No, he doesn't mind that at all, Her skin is hot and slick and salty-sweet and he could feast on it forever. He rubs his cheeks against her tits, letting his beard scratch against her delicate skin, he bites her nipple and she screams her pleasure. Most nights, he's too much of a gentleman to mark her like that, but in these encounters, he doesn't care about the damage he inflicts. He's just a man seeking an anonymous fuck from two strangers.

At least until the morning. They might fuck and be fucked though the night, they might get up from the bed reeking of sweat and sex, put on their clothes and leave. They might even take their own separate ways home, but once there, they are once again Peter and Elizabeth and Neal. They’ll bathe each other, tending to the slight marks and wounds their loving has inflicted and they will find grace in the more familiar rhythms of the life they have built together.

FIN