MMoM Day 9 - Ulysses in St. Louis
May. 9th, 2010 11:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: Ulysses in St. Louis
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17, OT3
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 2700
Summary: Peter Doesn’t Need a Little Blue Pill
___________________
It is so fucking unfair. He’s stuck in St. Louis, giving grand jury testimony on a major stock fraud case for the better part of a week and he is suffering.
Badly.
Madly.
At least he’s no longer sequestered, and the U.S. Attorney has let him have his cell phone back. First thing he did was call El, but she wasn’t home. Fuck, hopefully she’ll call him back soon. He tried Neal next, and he wasn’t answering other. Double fuck.
At an age when most men are accepting the decline of their sex lives or resorting to little blue pills, he’s finding himself hornier than he was at fourteen, when he’d get hard looking at the girls (and sometimes even the boys) in the Sears catalog. When it was just him and El and he was away, it was easy to remember his father’s advice, and keep his hands off his dick - saving it for their reunions. But now, with Neal and El, together, separately inside his head and in his bed, he finds himself in a constant state of arousal.
Oh god, does he work hard to keep that fact from Neal. If his lover knew that he is perpetually inflamed, he would have him over the proverbial barrel day and night. He never imagines that he’d become so sexual. There were times that simply watching the man as he walks from one side of a room to the other tests the limits of his control. At some point every damn day, he find himself sitting at his desk, his cock hard enough to crack granite, fantasizing about stripping Neal to his skin, shoving him against the glass wall and sodomizing him in full view of the entire office. Or throwing him down on the conference room table, hauling Neal’s legs over his shoulder and fucking him face to face. Just last week, in a meeting with Hughes, he found himself with an uncontrolled hard-on when Neal started fiddling with a paperclip. Then there are the “domestic” fantasies which are, in a way, much worse. He thinks about all the casual touches between lovers, the public displays of affection that he can't indulge in, and all the times he has to stop himself from kissing Neal the way he'd kiss El when she comes in with lunch, or stops by just to say hello.
And El -- wonderful, wonderful and more wonderful El. There had certainly been points during their marriage that things could have gone south, given all the time he had spent on the road, and his devotion to his job sometimes blinded him to her needs, and she was the ever-faithful Penelope. But now, she has him enthralled – she’s become Circe to his Odysseus. As much time as he spends thinking about fucking Neal, he daydreams about sex with El. Under his desk, while he fucks her mouth (no need for handcuffs), against the office door (which is conveniently solid wood…solid wood…yeah…solid wood). Sometimes Neal watches, sometimes he’s watching Neal and El, and sometimes he’s got his whole damn team watching and rating them like they are a pair of Olympic figure skaters.
Frankly, it’s a miracle that he gets any work done, anymore.
But that doesn’t solve his problem of the moment. It’s after ten o’clock, he’s hard, alone in this hotel room, eight hundred miles from the two people he desperately wants and needs. The thought of wanking, jerking off, masturbating is distasteful – not the act itself, but doing it when he’s by himself. So, he takes yet another cold shower, wraps one of the scratchy hotel towels around his waist, lays down on the bed and contemplates a long, lonely, sexless evening. At least El will be calling soon.
And his cell phone rings, the rap song playing out of the little speaker annoying and silly and he wouldn’t change it for the world.
“Hi hon!” El’s voice is full of love and enthusiasm. It’s the first time for days that he’s been able to talk to her without someone hovering and listening.
“Hey sweetheart, how are you.”
“Oh, just fine. How are you holding up?” Her voice sounds tinny and distant – more than usual for a cell phone call. He checks the signal strength – four bars, so it may be a problem on El’s end.
He thinks that it wouldn’t be too hard to persuade El into a session of phone sex, of mutual long-distance pleasuring. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that, but it certainly had been a while since they needed to. “I’m doing, well, okay. Missing you. ”
“Just me?”
There’s still that odd echo, and he checks the phone again and realizes that El’s calling from her mobile. Which means she’s out – which means no phone sex with her. Damn it.
“Honey, you still there? Did you fall asleep?” There is something going on here – El sounds like she’s on the speaker, but her car doesn’t have built in Bluetooth.
“Yeah, I’m still here. Where are you?” He can hear something on the other end, it’s not a bad connection, it’s room noise.
El’s voice falters a bit. “I’m at Neal’s.” There’s quiet, and finally “Hi, Peter.”
He doesn’t quite know what to feel, that El’s with Neal, at Neal’s, without him. It doesn’t feel wrong, but it feels, well … funny. He replies, simply “Hi.”
There’s clearly some restraint in his voice, because he can hear the speaker switch off, and Neal’s voice is suddenly clearer and more intimate. “Do you have a problem with El being here?” Trust Caffrey to pick up on his mood.
He sits up, the towel unwinding from his waist. The air in the hotel room is a little warm and very stale, but the air conditioning is unpleasantly noisy. “Honestly, I don’t know.” There’s silence from the other end. “I’m being a hypocrite, aren’t I?”
He waits, holding his breath. Of course he's a hypocrite, but El's been his and only his for more than a decade, and while he has never had an issue with El and Neal having sex, it’s always been as part of a threesome.
“No, Peter -- I don't think you're a hypocrite, but El might. After all, we fuck without her all the time.”
He now feels like a prize idiot. "How is it that I manage to screw everything up, even long distance?"
"You're not screwing it up, you’re just over-thinking things again."
He doesn't have a comeback to the truth.
Neal’s voice dropped to a whisper. “If Elizabeth had been all mine, I don’t know that’s I’d ever have the grace to share her.” Neal seemed to be searching for the right words. "Peter, you and Elizabeth --you bring me such joy. Separate, together. I wouldn't want to do anything to damage that."
He swallows against the lump in his throat, but laughs when Neal continued, "Am I sounding too much like your glass of port?"
"No, no. I just, ah, fuck. I can’t seem to get the words out of my head."
“Lack of sex will do that to you.” He hears the laughter in Neal’s voice.
“I’m lonely, and yes - jealous. It’s been four days of cold showers, hard sheets, testifying, waiting and waiting and cross-examination and Midwestern morality. You - you’ve got El and cappuccino in the clouds.” He sighs again. “And now I am behaving like a spoiled brat.”
El must have grabbed the phone out of Neal’s hands, because it is her voice that he hears next.
“Peter Burke, what are you saying to Neal. He’s got the strangest expression on his face.”
“I, I - was just trying to, damn it, El. I don’t want you to have sex with Neal when I’m not there.” Finally - someone’s pointed out the elephant in the room.
“Oh. In that case, I guess I’ll go home like a good little wife, and forget about the session of phone sex I’ve been planning FOR THREE DAYS. Neal was going to show me the toys you play with, demonstrate some of them and let me use them on him. We thought you’d get a kick out of listening.”
He groans, and if he felt like an idiot before, now he feels like a complete moron. And there’s complete silence on the other end of the line.
“El? You there?”
Neal came back on. “Peter, you’ve really got to work on your timing, buddy. I think you’ve blown your shot here. Your wife’s extremely pissed.”
“Don’t hang up and don’t let her leave. I don’t care if you screw each other from Riverside to Park Slope and back again. Just leave the phone on.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Elizabeth’s not happy with you.” Neal must have put down the phone, and he can hear him talking with his wife.
"Yes, Peter’s an ass -- but he’s a horny, oversexed ass -- he’s deprived and a bit depraved." He isn’t too sure he likes what Neal’s saying about him, but it is the truth.
He can’t quite make out El’s voice. “...I don’t know how you put … him. … sex … effort … Doesn’t even have to … sink, or wash the … garbage … stinks … Satchmo on a leash…”
“Elizabeth - he’s suffering. Let’s cut the man a break. He’s gotten used to having sex, two, three times a day. And he’s been cut off, going cold turkey all week - of course he’s behaving like a jerk. You know he’s not fully enlightened -- despite us there’s still a caveman inside him.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or start yelling at Neal. What does he mean, not fully enlightened - a caveman?
There’s some more silence, then El’s voice. “You still there?” Thank god “How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough that you and Neal think I’m Fred Flintstone.” He hears her laughter. It’s not kind.
“Neal and I are going to have sex. Whether you like it or not. The question is, do you want to listen?”
“Yes” There was no question about that. Now. “Are you going to tell me what Neal’s doing to you, or are you going to make me suffer and have to imagine it?”
“I should make you suffer - you deserve it.”
Neal interrupted her. “Peter - how much to you want to suffer?”
Why are you giving him a choice? El, in the background, still sounded angry.
“I am suffering now...my dick is about to fall off from lack of use.” He looks down at himself. He’s been alternately semi-hard and completely soft throughout this very strange conversation, but now he’s on his way to 4600 on the Brinell Hardness Scale. Then two words that rarely comes out of his mouth when it comes to sex. “Please, Neal.”
The speaker must have been turned on at some point, because he can hear El’s laugh at his desperation, again, and some rustling bed covers, maybe?, and finally, finally … …
“Peter, are you listening? I’m taking off your wife’s clothes.” Neal described in detail El’s disrobing, until she was dressed only in black lingerie. “She’s wearing La Perla, Peter -- we bought it together, today. It’s lace and satin and it has the prettiest garters, with blue ribbons to match our eyes.”
He pants. They wouldn’t do that to him again...not long distance. He turns the speaker of his own phone, and sets it on the pillow next to his head, while he reaches for the hotel-supplied hand lotion.
“Tell me what you’re doing, Peter.” This is what Neal means by making him suffer. He hates this kind of dirty talk. “I’m touching my dick… ”
“We know that, Peter…” El sounded aroused, but still annoyed. “Give us some detail.”
“I’ve got my right hand on my dick and I’m stroking up and down, slowly. I’m rubbing my thumb against the head.” He forces himself to keep his movements slow and light, he’s so pent up, he could finish before El and Neal really get started.
“What are you doing with your left hand?” He isn’t doing anything but holding onto the sheets. “
Tell me what you want me to do.” He shocks himself.
“Touch your nipples, pinch them and tell us how it feels. I’m playing with Elizabeth’s now. She likes the feel of the lace against them as I squeeze.”
He complies with Neal’s command and whines. “It doesn’t feel as good as when you play with them. I like playing with yours, with both of yours, better than with my own.” They both laugh at him.
“Tough…” That was his wife. “Keep at it, but don’t you dare come until I do.”
He obeys, how could he not?
Neal continues describing what he’s doing to El. “I’ve got your wife on her knees - she’s still wearing stockings and those thousand dollar Louboutins … they’ll tear holes in my sheets if I’m not careful.”
He stops working his dick for a moment. Those shoes were a thousand dollars, what the hell?. Then he remembers seeing them grinding against Neal’s cock. Worth every penny.
Neal’s voice is getting breathy, he’s having trouble getting the words out. “Elizabeth has my dick in her mouth, and she humming.”
There’s no words from either of them for the next few seconds, but he hears Neal’s moans. He sounds like he’s getting ready to come, and then -- “Enough, I want to fuck you.”
“Peter --” It’s El’s voice now. “Neal’s going to fuck me now, he’s putting his cock in me.” He hears her squeal a bit -- like she does when he fucks her doggie-style. He works his cock to the rhythm of their bodies that he hears through the phone and then to her ever louder cries. Neal, as usual, is silent, but he can hear him panting.
He takes his left hand away from his nipples and starts working his cock with both hands until everything that had been building inside of him since he left home erupts from him. As he strokes out the last spurts of semen, he hears El’s final shouts as she climaxes and that loud grunt that Neal makes as he comes.
He wants to thank them both, but he’s too drained to move. He reaches down and snags the towel he’d been wearing, and miracle of miracles, gets it on the first grab, without flinging too much cum all over the place. As he wipes his hands, he hears both El and Neal wish him a good night. El, despite everything, still sounds a bit peeved. Neal sounds like Neal.
The call disconnects before he can summon the energy to reply, but he finally does say, “Good night, I love you both.”
fin
Author:
elrhiarhodan Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17, OT3
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 2700
Summary: Peter Doesn’t Need a Little Blue Pill
It is so fucking unfair. He’s stuck in St. Louis, giving grand jury testimony on a major stock fraud case for the better part of a week and he is suffering.
Badly.
Madly.
At least he’s no longer sequestered, and the U.S. Attorney has let him have his cell phone back. First thing he did was call El, but she wasn’t home. Fuck, hopefully she’ll call him back soon. He tried Neal next, and he wasn’t answering other. Double fuck.
At an age when most men are accepting the decline of their sex lives or resorting to little blue pills, he’s finding himself hornier than he was at fourteen, when he’d get hard looking at the girls (and sometimes even the boys) in the Sears catalog. When it was just him and El and he was away, it was easy to remember his father’s advice, and keep his hands off his dick - saving it for their reunions. But now, with Neal and El, together, separately inside his head and in his bed, he finds himself in a constant state of arousal.
Oh god, does he work hard to keep that fact from Neal. If his lover knew that he is perpetually inflamed, he would have him over the proverbial barrel day and night. He never imagines that he’d become so sexual. There were times that simply watching the man as he walks from one side of a room to the other tests the limits of his control. At some point every damn day, he find himself sitting at his desk, his cock hard enough to crack granite, fantasizing about stripping Neal to his skin, shoving him against the glass wall and sodomizing him in full view of the entire office. Or throwing him down on the conference room table, hauling Neal’s legs over his shoulder and fucking him face to face. Just last week, in a meeting with Hughes, he found himself with an uncontrolled hard-on when Neal started fiddling with a paperclip. Then there are the “domestic” fantasies which are, in a way, much worse. He thinks about all the casual touches between lovers, the public displays of affection that he can't indulge in, and all the times he has to stop himself from kissing Neal the way he'd kiss El when she comes in with lunch, or stops by just to say hello.
And El -- wonderful, wonderful and more wonderful El. There had certainly been points during their marriage that things could have gone south, given all the time he had spent on the road, and his devotion to his job sometimes blinded him to her needs, and she was the ever-faithful Penelope. But now, she has him enthralled – she’s become Circe to his Odysseus. As much time as he spends thinking about fucking Neal, he daydreams about sex with El. Under his desk, while he fucks her mouth (no need for handcuffs), against the office door (which is conveniently solid wood…solid wood…yeah…solid wood). Sometimes Neal watches, sometimes he’s watching Neal and El, and sometimes he’s got his whole damn team watching and rating them like they are a pair of Olympic figure skaters.
Frankly, it’s a miracle that he gets any work done, anymore.
But that doesn’t solve his problem of the moment. It’s after ten o’clock, he’s hard, alone in this hotel room, eight hundred miles from the two people he desperately wants and needs. The thought of wanking, jerking off, masturbating is distasteful – not the act itself, but doing it when he’s by himself. So, he takes yet another cold shower, wraps one of the scratchy hotel towels around his waist, lays down on the bed and contemplates a long, lonely, sexless evening. At least El will be calling soon.
And his cell phone rings, the rap song playing out of the little speaker annoying and silly and he wouldn’t change it for the world.
“Hi hon!” El’s voice is full of love and enthusiasm. It’s the first time for days that he’s been able to talk to her without someone hovering and listening.
“Hey sweetheart, how are you.”
“Oh, just fine. How are you holding up?” Her voice sounds tinny and distant – more than usual for a cell phone call. He checks the signal strength – four bars, so it may be a problem on El’s end.
He thinks that it wouldn’t be too hard to persuade El into a session of phone sex, of mutual long-distance pleasuring. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d done that, but it certainly had been a while since they needed to. “I’m doing, well, okay. Missing you. ”
“Just me?”
There’s still that odd echo, and he checks the phone again and realizes that El’s calling from her mobile. Which means she’s out – which means no phone sex with her. Damn it.
“Honey, you still there? Did you fall asleep?” There is something going on here – El sounds like she’s on the speaker, but her car doesn’t have built in Bluetooth.
“Yeah, I’m still here. Where are you?” He can hear something on the other end, it’s not a bad connection, it’s room noise.
El’s voice falters a bit. “I’m at Neal’s.” There’s quiet, and finally “Hi, Peter.”
He doesn’t quite know what to feel, that El’s with Neal, at Neal’s, without him. It doesn’t feel wrong, but it feels, well … funny. He replies, simply “Hi.”
There’s clearly some restraint in his voice, because he can hear the speaker switch off, and Neal’s voice is suddenly clearer and more intimate. “Do you have a problem with El being here?” Trust Caffrey to pick up on his mood.
He sits up, the towel unwinding from his waist. The air in the hotel room is a little warm and very stale, but the air conditioning is unpleasantly noisy. “Honestly, I don’t know.” There’s silence from the other end. “I’m being a hypocrite, aren’t I?”
He waits, holding his breath. Of course he's a hypocrite, but El's been his and only his for more than a decade, and while he has never had an issue with El and Neal having sex, it’s always been as part of a threesome.
“No, Peter -- I don't think you're a hypocrite, but El might. After all, we fuck without her all the time.”
He now feels like a prize idiot. "How is it that I manage to screw everything up, even long distance?"
"You're not screwing it up, you’re just over-thinking things again."
He doesn't have a comeback to the truth.
Neal’s voice dropped to a whisper. “If Elizabeth had been all mine, I don’t know that’s I’d ever have the grace to share her.” Neal seemed to be searching for the right words. "Peter, you and Elizabeth --you bring me such joy. Separate, together. I wouldn't want to do anything to damage that."
He swallows against the lump in his throat, but laughs when Neal continued, "Am I sounding too much like your glass of port?"
"No, no. I just, ah, fuck. I can’t seem to get the words out of my head."
“Lack of sex will do that to you.” He hears the laughter in Neal’s voice.
“I’m lonely, and yes - jealous. It’s been four days of cold showers, hard sheets, testifying, waiting and waiting and cross-examination and Midwestern morality. You - you’ve got El and cappuccino in the clouds.” He sighs again. “And now I am behaving like a spoiled brat.”
El must have grabbed the phone out of Neal’s hands, because it is her voice that he hears next.
“Peter Burke, what are you saying to Neal. He’s got the strangest expression on his face.”
“I, I - was just trying to, damn it, El. I don’t want you to have sex with Neal when I’m not there.” Finally - someone’s pointed out the elephant in the room.
“Oh. In that case, I guess I’ll go home like a good little wife, and forget about the session of phone sex I’ve been planning FOR THREE DAYS. Neal was going to show me the toys you play with, demonstrate some of them and let me use them on him. We thought you’d get a kick out of listening.”
He groans, and if he felt like an idiot before, now he feels like a complete moron. And there’s complete silence on the other end of the line.
“El? You there?”
Neal came back on. “Peter, you’ve really got to work on your timing, buddy. I think you’ve blown your shot here. Your wife’s extremely pissed.”
“Don’t hang up and don’t let her leave. I don’t care if you screw each other from Riverside to Park Slope and back again. Just leave the phone on.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Elizabeth’s not happy with you.” Neal must have put down the phone, and he can hear him talking with his wife.
"Yes, Peter’s an ass -- but he’s a horny, oversexed ass -- he’s deprived and a bit depraved." He isn’t too sure he likes what Neal’s saying about him, but it is the truth.
He can’t quite make out El’s voice. “...I don’t know how you put … him. … sex … effort … Doesn’t even have to … sink, or wash the … garbage … stinks … Satchmo on a leash…”
“Elizabeth - he’s suffering. Let’s cut the man a break. He’s gotten used to having sex, two, three times a day. And he’s been cut off, going cold turkey all week - of course he’s behaving like a jerk. You know he’s not fully enlightened -- despite us there’s still a caveman inside him.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or start yelling at Neal. What does he mean, not fully enlightened - a caveman?
There’s some more silence, then El’s voice. “You still there?” Thank god “How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough that you and Neal think I’m Fred Flintstone.” He hears her laughter. It’s not kind.
“Neal and I are going to have sex. Whether you like it or not. The question is, do you want to listen?”
“Yes” There was no question about that. Now. “Are you going to tell me what Neal’s doing to you, or are you going to make me suffer and have to imagine it?”
“I should make you suffer - you deserve it.”
Neal interrupted her. “Peter - how much to you want to suffer?”
Why are you giving him a choice? El, in the background, still sounded angry.
“I am suffering now...my dick is about to fall off from lack of use.” He looks down at himself. He’s been alternately semi-hard and completely soft throughout this very strange conversation, but now he’s on his way to 4600 on the Brinell Hardness Scale. Then two words that rarely comes out of his mouth when it comes to sex. “Please, Neal.”
The speaker must have been turned on at some point, because he can hear El’s laugh at his desperation, again, and some rustling bed covers, maybe?, and finally, finally … …
“Peter, are you listening? I’m taking off your wife’s clothes.” Neal described in detail El’s disrobing, until she was dressed only in black lingerie. “She’s wearing La Perla, Peter -- we bought it together, today. It’s lace and satin and it has the prettiest garters, with blue ribbons to match our eyes.”
He pants. They wouldn’t do that to him again...not long distance. He turns the speaker of his own phone, and sets it on the pillow next to his head, while he reaches for the hotel-supplied hand lotion.
“Tell me what you’re doing, Peter.” This is what Neal means by making him suffer. He hates this kind of dirty talk. “I’m touching my dick… ”
“We know that, Peter…” El sounded aroused, but still annoyed. “Give us some detail.”
“I’ve got my right hand on my dick and I’m stroking up and down, slowly. I’m rubbing my thumb against the head.” He forces himself to keep his movements slow and light, he’s so pent up, he could finish before El and Neal really get started.
“What are you doing with your left hand?” He isn’t doing anything but holding onto the sheets. “
Tell me what you want me to do.” He shocks himself.
“Touch your nipples, pinch them and tell us how it feels. I’m playing with Elizabeth’s now. She likes the feel of the lace against them as I squeeze.”
He complies with Neal’s command and whines. “It doesn’t feel as good as when you play with them. I like playing with yours, with both of yours, better than with my own.” They both laugh at him.
“Tough…” That was his wife. “Keep at it, but don’t you dare come until I do.”
He obeys, how could he not?
Neal continues describing what he’s doing to El. “I’ve got your wife on her knees - she’s still wearing stockings and those thousand dollar Louboutins … they’ll tear holes in my sheets if I’m not careful.”
He stops working his dick for a moment. Those shoes were a thousand dollars, what the hell?. Then he remembers seeing them grinding against Neal’s cock. Worth every penny.
Neal’s voice is getting breathy, he’s having trouble getting the words out. “Elizabeth has my dick in her mouth, and she humming.”
There’s no words from either of them for the next few seconds, but he hears Neal’s moans. He sounds like he’s getting ready to come, and then -- “Enough, I want to fuck you.”
“Peter --” It’s El’s voice now. “Neal’s going to fuck me now, he’s putting his cock in me.” He hears her squeal a bit -- like she does when he fucks her doggie-style. He works his cock to the rhythm of their bodies that he hears through the phone and then to her ever louder cries. Neal, as usual, is silent, but he can hear him panting.
He takes his left hand away from his nipples and starts working his cock with both hands until everything that had been building inside of him since he left home erupts from him. As he strokes out the last spurts of semen, he hears El’s final shouts as she climaxes and that loud grunt that Neal makes as he comes.
He wants to thank them both, but he’s too drained to move. He reaches down and snags the towel he’d been wearing, and miracle of miracles, gets it on the first grab, without flinging too much cum all over the place. As he wipes his hands, he hears both El and Neal wish him a good night. El, despite everything, still sounds a bit peeved. Neal sounds like Neal.
The call disconnects before he can summon the energy to reply, but he finally does say, “Good night, I love you both.”
