![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: On The Consequences Of Ill-Considered Competitiveness
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Rating: NC-17 – Slash (Peter/Neal)
Fandom: White Collar (Peter, Neal, very briefly June, and even briefer, El)
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Plugs, Fingering, Darkness, Cock Rings, Dry Humping, The MTA + Crack
Word Count: ~ 5500
Summary: It’s PWP – so see W/E/T above
I had originally suggested Neal and Peter on the subway as a prompt for the wicked awesomehoosierbitch, she got booked with more porn than one person should be obligated to write, and suggested that I might try to write it. Completely un-beta'd, but many thanks to my awesome flist, who gave me a swift and precise education on the use of metal cock rings.
______________________
Neal came back from his lunch break to find Peter out of the office and a sealed box on his chair. The label had been carefully removed and there was no postage on it. As he picked it up, his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. It was from Peter, from his private cell.
Meet me in ten minutes, you know where. Take the box with you.
Neal fought to keep a grin from his face. Peter had recently introduced him to the discreet pleasures of the tenth floor bathroom. He could just imagine what was inside the box.
Five hundred and some odd seconds later, Neal wandered out of the office, package in hand. The box that is, the package between his legs would be, hopefully, in Peter's hands in a few more minutes.
Neal walked the few flights to the tenth floor. This time of day was tricky. If he took the elevator, someone would undoubtedly ask why he was getting out on an unoccupied floor. Peter used the duct tape on the latch trick to ensure that Neal would be able to get into the space from the stairwell. When he emerged, everything was dark, except for a thin line of light from the men's room.
Most people, when they walk into a room expecting to find someone, will call out that person's name. Neal knew that could be very stupid - so he opened the door gingerly and flicked off the lights.
"Good boy, Neal. You're learning some discretion." Peter's voice was eerie and distorted in the darkness of the tiled space. "You brought the box?"
"A little light would help, Peter." Neal didn't care for the utter blackness of the windowless room. It reminded him of a time best forgotten.
"The ambiance of fluorescent lighting leaves much to be desired." Peter's voice, low and slightly menacing, was right at his ear and Neal could suddenly feel the heat coming off his lover's body. That heat made him feel safe, made the darkness less fearsome.
Peter sensed Neal's discomfort. A few setting changes on his cell phone and the backlight was set to stay on. With the phone onto the edge of the sink, the bluish light dispelled just enough of the darkness that Neal could see Peter's face in the mirror, albeit in deep shadow. The lust and the love, however, were clearly visible.
Peter leaned into Neal, pressing his cock into his lover's ass. A year ago, the thought of fucking in the office would never have occurred to him. But his desire for Neal, for that sweet ass, seeing those liquid blue eyes go wide with need and love and even a tiny touch of fear, overrode his sense of self-preservation. Just leaving the box on Neal's chair was a risky move.
He bent forward and caught Neal's earlobe with his teeth, forcing himself to nibble gently, even though he wanted to mark him for all of the world to see. He felt Neal shudder at the sensation, and he forced his head around and took his mouth in a punishing kiss. Neal melted against him, becoming a pliant creature, moaning his aching desire into Peter's mouth.
He released Neal's lips and went to work on his belt and fly, efficiently stripping him below the waist. Peter stroked Neal's cock, lightly, teasingly, his finger ghosting up and down the hot, hard length, his thumb catching a small, precious spurt of pre-cum.
"Open the box."
Neal fumbled with the carton, and then found an edge where Peter had cleverly folded the tape back over itself. By the cell phone's light, Neal was able to make out a bottle of lube, a good sized plug and a condom.
"We're going to take the subway home tonight. I'm going to ride your ass from Franklin Street up to 79th and Broadway. There's a pole with your name on it and you're going to dance for me.
Neal moaned at the image, wildly picturing himself doing a slide and grind against the subway car’s pole – but in his head, the car’s empty except for him and Peter. Then he goes a little cold at the thought of all those other people watching him.
“Neal, what’s wrong?” Just as Peter understood his unease with the absolute darkness, he seemed to pick up on Neal’s distress at performing publicly. “Tell me if this is something that you don’t want.”
“I don’t want anyone to watch us – no one but Elizabeth.” Neal knew this was an irrational reaction; of course he wasn’t going to be on public display.
Neal felt Peter’s lips curve into a grin against his ear. “If we do this right, no one will know. No one would ever know. Is that okay with you?” Peter nipped his ear again.
Neal nodded, but Peter wasn’t satisfied with that response. “Tell me yes. Tell me no.”
“Yes, Peter. I’m okay.” Neal was breathless, a little fear was good.
“Then lean over and spread your legs.”
Neal obeyed and felt Peter tuck his shirt up and out of the way. His cock hardened even further in a near-Pavlovian response to the sound of the cap from the bottle of lube popping opened. Peter’s fingers were cool with the slick against his hot, tight skin, and he reached around to open himself up.
“Did I tell you to let go of the sink?”
Neal replied softly, “No,” and returned his hands to their original position.
When it was just the two of them, their play was often brutal and intense, but never more than Neal could take. However, Peter could also bring him to the point of breaking with just some unexpected tenderness. He shivered as Peter began to finger him with a rare gentleness. His big, blunt fingers rubbed and teased the lube around the tight rim of his asshole, circling around and around until Neal whimpered and pushed back, begging with just his body. Peter gave into that begging and pushed two fingers inside of him and slowly worked them back and forth, and then he added a third and a fourth, carefully, painstakingly stretching him. Neal gave a thready, breathless moan.
“Are you ready for this?”
“Yes.” All of a sudden the near darkness became total as Peter’s cell phone turned itself off. Neal was beyond the point of fear, he knew where he was, who he was with.
Peter fumbled a bit for the box, and handed Neal the condom. “Hold onto this.” He heard the Peter slick up the gelly and a few seconds later he jumped a bit as the cool silicone touched his heated skin. Neal spread his legs and pressed out, willing his body to accept the thick plug. He sucked in his breath as the first part breached him, and then the rest of it. It was the perfect length, pressing up against his prostate.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the condom was for. The way that thing was going to sit within him, he might come just from walking down the stairs.
Peter wrapped his arms around Neal’s waist and pressed into him, his clothed cock pressing against Neal’s slicked up ass.
“Careful – you may get stained.”
Peter chuckled in his ear. “When did you get so practical?” He pushed harder against him, uncaring of the marks that the slick might leave on his pants.
Neal shuddered as his cock was pressed against the cold porcelain sink. He twisted around, and leaned back, enjoying the feel of the plug in his ass. In a few quick motions, he rolled the condom over his cock. The tightness of the latex actually felt good, it gave him a measure of control. He pulled up his pants and tucked in his shirt – fixing the fine points of his tailoring would have to wait until Peter left and he could turn on a light.
As he adjusted his hard dick the best he could and buckled his belt, Peter’s hand came down hard on his shoulder, and Neal dropped to his knees. He tried to nuzzle at Peter’s cock but Peter held his head still.
“I want you to prepare me. Just thinking about you with that thing up your ass for the rest of the day, with your rock hard cock is going to make me come.”
Neal sucked in his breath – Peter had never admitted to ever having less than perfect control. He fought against his own arousal – the thought of his lover coming without wanting to, was mind-blowing.
“Let me suck you off. Let me drink you down.” Neal begged.
“No – not now. I want you to put this on me.” Peter brushed something against his cheek. It was his titanium cock ring.
Neal’s head spun. He’d worn that ring for Peter a few times, including one very memorable morning when Peter put it on him before they went to work and it kept him hard and hurting for hours. It was also the first time that they’d left the office for sex, and the first time that Peter put his mouth on his cock.
Peter tapped the ring against his cheek, bringing him back to the here and now.
Thankfully, Peter wasn’t fully tumescent. In the total darkness, he couldn’t see the surprise Peter had waiting for him. When Neal went to feed his balls through the ring, his fingers found just firm, slightly wrinkled and hairless flesh. No sweaty curls and tendrils of pubic hair. He caught his breath and explored a little further. Peter was completely bare - from his navel to his thighs, and no evidence of stubble.
“You got waxed?” Neal could barely get the question out.
“Yeah - it hurt like hell. You like?”
“Holy shit. How can you ask?” Neal wanted to dive opened mouthed down onto Peter’s cock and swallow him whole. He wanted to suck on his balls, tease his belly, and bury his face between Peter’s ass cheeks. But he was a good boy, and gently, carefully worked Peter’s balls -- hairless; they were like two fat, ripe plums -- through the cock ring. By the time he was finished, Neal was tense and sweating, his thighs and ass straining to retain the plug, he whole body yearning to consume Peter.
“Can I suck you now?”
“No.” Peter was firm and unyielding. “A little denial will be good for both of us.” Peter carefully tucked himself back into his clothes and helped Neal up off the floor.
Neal laughed a bit.
"What's so funny?" Even with that question, he could tell that Peter knew why he was laughing.
"You're bound, I'm stuffed. How the hell are we going to make it through the day without exploding?"
Peter chuckled too. "It's going to be a very interesting afternoon, if I have to say so myself."
He brushed his lips against Neal's, flicked on the bathroom light and as Neal blinked against the sudden brightness, Peter grabbed his phone and left.
Neal let his eyes adjust. The fluorescent lights flatten the shadows and banished all mystery from the space. Without the darkness, the bathroom became just that, a bathroom – not a secret rendezvous for fugitive lovers. He straightened his tie and retucked his shirt, carefully adjusting his cuffs. He brushed his hands down the front of his pants, feeling the bulge of his semi-erect cock. The pleated front of the black wool hid it well, but as Neal squeezed his ass cheeks against the silicone plug, the bulge grew just a little bigger. Oh yes, the rest of this afternoon's going to be a lot of fun.
The walk back to his office was not easy. This was the first time he ever wore a cock ring. The unyielding metal bit into his flesh and he wondered at the crazy impulse that led him to this decision. When he played with Neal’s beringed cock, he was fascinated at how he could take the pain and stay so aroused. He had found himself thinking about it all to frequently, and one evening last week, El caught that look in his eyes and pleasurably tormented a confession out of him – about how loved to keep Neal on tenterhooks, how much enjoyment he got from making him hold on, for hours or even days. El had tried to understand it. She wasn’t a fan of orgasm denial for any reason and being able to come three or four times to his own single shot made that type of play kind of ridiculous between just the two of them.
The conversation turned serious. More than just the orgasm denial, El wanted to understand where this need to control came from, since it had never emerged during their ten-plus years of marriage. Peter had been thinking about for quite a while actually, and the answer wasn’t easy to articulate. The best explanation he was could give her was that Neal was so hard to control in their day-to-day activities (and in fact he secretly relied on that aspect of Neal’s personality to get the job done), that sex was probably the only time Peter could truly be in control of Neal.
El had looked at him like she wanted to call “bullshit.” Peter didn’t retract but tried to explain that no matter how hard their play got, how deep he’d send Neal into subspace, he never would do anything that Neal didn’t want or they hadn’t discussed beforehand. He loved Neal not because he blindly submitted, but because Neal was willing to give, for a moment in time, control over to him. El was still sceptical. Finally he said “I don’t think of Neal as anything less than my equal. I know he's not a toy or a thing.” El was satisfied, but she suggested that Peter might enjoy understanding what Neal felt when he wore that ring. Peter was crazy enough to agree. After all, if Neal could take it, why couldn’t he?
The waxing though – that wasn’t simple crazy. That was just fucking insane. He couldn’t even blame his wife for this idea – it was all his own. But in his defense, El only half-heartedly tried to talk him out of it, and she did make the appointment at the aesthetician. And supplied the post-operative Benadryl and ice. It did feel good though, once all the swelling and redness went away. It felt even better when El went down on him. She couldn’t deep throat him like Neal, it was just physically impossible for her, but her control and finesse could render him cross-eyed.
By the time he sat down behind his desk, he was still unsure if he was enjoying the sensation of the ring around his privates or he was in actual pain. After an hour of struggling against the feel of the ring, Peter needed to do something. Being a Supervisory Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he consulted his resident Subject Matter Expert for additional information.
Text from PJB (Private) to NC (Private) – 2:41 p.m.
Is this thing supposed to hurt?
Reply from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 2:43 p.m.
Yeah, but in a good way
Reply from PJB (Private) to NC (Private) – 2:47 p.m.
I don’t know if it’s good or not
Reply from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 2:50 p.m.
Is it pinching or do you just feel bound?
Peter stood up, turned to face the window, and tried to adjust himself.
Text from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 2:56 p.m.
Feel better?
Reply from PJB (Private) to NC (Private) – 2:59 p.m.
No
Reply from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 3:01 p.m.
Still hard?
Reply from PJB (Private) to NC (Private) – 3:05 p.m.
Yeah
Reply from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 3:08 p.m.
Then you’re ok
Peter carelessly shoved the cell phone back into his pocket when Hughes walked into his office to remind him about the budget meeting for the all the departments in the NYC field office. Senior staff attendence was mandatory. He stifled a yelp as the phone hit the base of his cock, banging into the ring.
“You all right, Peter?”
He rocked back and forth on his chair, sucked air through his nose and tried to keep his eyes from crossing. “Yeah. Leg cramp. Will be there in a few minutes.”
Thankfully Hughes left and Peter stood up very carefully and stretched. Looking on the bright side of things, a two hour budget meeting was probably the most unarousing block of time this whole week, and even if the ring kept him from going flaccid, he certainly wouldn’t get any more aroused by looking at graphs and charts and doing staffing and budget projections. On the other hand, the large conference center on the 12th floor was an auditorium and the space would undoubtedly be dark and inviting – and his mind would certainly wander away from boring staffing and budget projections.
Peter left the office without pausing at Neal’s desk, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see Neal duck his head and smile.
Neal worked his way through the remainder of the day, the plug in his ass a pleasant distraction. Unlike the first time Peter made him wear a plug at the office, this one was substantial enough for him contain without undue effort and best of all (at least for his peace of mind) it didn’t have a vibe feature (or if it did, Peter wasn’t activating it). What was more arousing than the plug, though, was sense memory of Peter’s perfectly smooth skin under his fingertips. Neal didn’t think he’d ever fear total darkness again. All he’d need to do was remember the silken smoothness of the bare flesh at the base of Peter’s cock, the firmness of his hairless balls. Neal’s mouth actually started to water at the memory of the expanse of naked skin he touched, but couldn’t see. Neal was thrilled that Peter had actually done something that Neal never had. He kept himself closely trimmed, and had shaved just once (and never again because of the stubble), but Neal had never gotten waxed. Maybe it was time.
And almost more arousing was the thought of Peter wearing his ring. Peter was clearly disconcerted by it – metal cock rings weren’t for everyone – leather straps and silicone were easier to wear even if they could be more constricting. But Peter and his highly competitive streak wouldn’t take the easy road – not if Neal had already forged the path. It was all Neal could do to keep from cracking up at Peter’s text messages.
The two and a half hours that Peter was in his meeting didn’t exactly fly by. Neal frequently worked his asscheeks against the plug, but not so frequently to cause his hard-on to become unmanageable. The case he was working on was interesting, and he spent quite a while going over some of the finer points with Jones and Diana and a few of Peter’s other staff members. It was well after five when Peter stumbled, literally, back into the office. He didn’t look too good. He was flushed and sweating and holding his jacket against the front of his pants.
Neal jumped out of his chair to give Peter a hand. Fortunately, the rest of the office had emptied out on the dot of five (it was Friday, after all) and Hughes was nowhere to be seen.
“Are you okay?” Neal thought Peter might be having a heart attack, he looked so bad.
“Get this thing off of me.” Peter gritted his teeth. Neal tugged Peter’s jacket away. The bulge in his pants was obscenely huge.
“Don’t move” Neal advised, quite unnecessarily. He bolted up the stairs and grabbed a clean towel from Peter’s gym bag, filled a cup with ice and water and got the bottle of lube from their earlier play.
Since Peter and Neal were the only ones left in the office, they used the mens room on that floor. Neal didn’t think Peter could make it to the one on 10, but he did lock the door behind him. Neal steered Peter into the handicapped stall and carefully took off Peter’s pants and briefs. He was almost afraid of what he would find, but aside from a truly inspiring erection, there was no sign of tissue distress.
Peter closed his eyes, afraid to look. Until he heard Neal’s laugh.
“What’s so fucking funny, Caffrey?”
“You. You’re damned gorgeous. Big and red and wet and bare and delicious.” Neal touched the ring with one gentle finger. There was some movement there, and he ran it down the top of Peter’s cock and teased the the fat, bulbous head. “Peter...”
“Caffrey...” The man growled at Neal.
“Don’t worry, Peter. Your peter’s going to be just fine. We won’t have to get it cut off.”
“Oh my god. You mean ...”
“The ring, you idiot. Not your cock.” Neal was enjoying himself. So rare to see Peter in anything less than perfect control. The scare tactics were working, and Peter’s arousal diminished just a bit. The slight give in the ring against Peter’s cock was just enough to let some of the blood flow back into circulation.
Neal had Peter sit down and he spread the towel over his thighs and under his cock.
“What are you doing?”
“As much as I’d like to blow you, I think some ice water will be more effective in reducing the, ahhh, swelling.”
Peter hissed at the shock as Neal poured the cold liquid over him, and it was definitely working. He dumped some of the ice onto Peter’s flesh and used the towel as a sling, gently working it against the hot skin. The treatment was effective and Peter’s cock shrunk to the point that the ring was loose enough that he could fit the tip of his finger into it. He took the ice filled towel away and lubed Peter up. Neal very carefully eased the testicles out of the ring, which then fell right off. He wiped it and stuck it in his pocket.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve never worn a metal ring? They’re for the pros.”
More than relieved that he escaped permanent injury, Peter growled. “You’ve worn that damned ring plenty of times. You picked it out, for crissakes!”
“Peter, I’ve got a little more experience with these things.” Neal said gently.
“Well, it’s all El’s fault.” Peter grumbled
“What?”
“She’s the one who suggested I try it.”
Neal didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “As much as I love and adore your wife, she’s not exactly the person I’d consult about bondage toys.” Neal examined Peter’s flesh, which seemed to have returned to its normal resting state. He placed a reverent kiss at the base of Peter’s cock, where it met the pubis. It twitched and started to flush with arousal.
“You’re just fine.” Neal stood up and handed Peter his clothing. “I guess you’ll want to take it easy tonight.” He didn’t try to hard to keep the resigned disappointment from his voice.
“Hell no. Get out of here and wait for me downstairs.”
After Neal left, but before he got dressed, Peter wanted to make sure that Neal’s diagnosis was accurate. He stroked his fist gently up and down his cock and to his everlasting relief and undoubted delight, his cock responded as cocks are supposed to. He dressed, washed up and dumped the damp gym towel in the trash. A wise move, since he met Hughes just as the other man was getting off the elevator. They walked back into the office together and Peter thanked Hughes for including a line item that would give Neal a wage commensurate with his skills and the value he contributed to the department. Peter collected his briefcase and jacket and as he waited for the elevator, he couldn’t help but smile. Neal certainly earned his raise today.
They met at the steps of Federal Plaza and walked south in companionable silence. The early May evening held the promise of the warmer days to come. Peter smiled when Neal’s usually graceful stride took a hitch several times during the ten minute walk to the subway. The plug was doing its job. The Franklin Street Station was busy with the tail end of the Friday rush hour, and Peter hoped the car would be crowded enough to give then the opportunity to play and it was.
Peter escorted (okay, pushed) Neal onto a car in the middle of the train, one which would be most crowded at that time of day. He manouvered (or better to say, manhandled) him so that Neal was pressed solidly against one of the poles, just like he wanted. He deposited his briefcase between Neal’s feet and the base of the pole - marking just a little territory and took up his position, chest against Neal’s back, an arm reaching about Neal’s head to keep himself steady. To not appear so obvious that he was about to molest the man in front of him.
As more people jammed into the car, Peter was pushed up against Neal, from shoulders to knees and Neal didn't react, he just leaned into the pole. A gorgeous woman with a lithe dancer’s body was standing in front of him. She must have liked what she was seeing because she started to chat Neal up.
The train finally pulled out of the station and the car rocked, pushing Peter harder against Neal, and Neal harder against the pole. Neal seemed completely oblivious, as he struck up a conversation with his new admirer. The clacking of the wheels made it hard to hear what Neal and the woman were saying to each other, even though Peter was less than a foot away. The train was an express to Penn Station, and for the next eighteen minutes, Peter dry humped Neal, his cock pushing the plug deeper into Neal’s ass.
Neal didn’t react one bit, casually chatting away with the woman in front of him. Peter looked up at the security mirror and even with the distortion of the curved glass, he could tell the she going to put the moves on his boy at any moment. The train came to a halt at Penn and just as the doors started to open, the bitch pulled out a card and handed it to Neal. Despite the unintelligible loudspeaker and the rest of humanity moving around them, he could now hear Neal’s voice clearly.
“Thank you...” Neal glanced down at the card to get the woman’s name and then must have flashed her that incredible Caffrey grin, because her face lit up like Times Square. “...Suzannah, but I don’t think so. The guy behind me, the one who’s practically got his dick up my ass – he’s my partner.”
Rather than being offended, the woman looked intrigued and smiled at Peter too. “Maybe a threesome? I’m a ballet dancer, and really quite flexible.”
Peter grinned. You gotta love New York. “Thank you too, but no. My wife would probably mind.”
Suzannah laughed. “Pity – a foursome would be even more fun. If you ever change your mind, call me.” She winked at them, squeezed her way through the herd of people trying to board the subway car and disappeared into the station. Neal pocketed her card.
If anything, the train was more crowded when it pulled out of Penn when it became a local, stopping next at Times Square. Peter ground himself against Neal and they both hissed. Peter was still sensitive from the ring and he was pushing on the plug so that it kept hitting Neal’s prostate. More bodies got on and Peter was doing his best to make Neal get off.
Peter kept dry humping Neal until the Columbus Circle stop, when the subway car emptied out, and only a few people got on. In the nearly empty car, Peter couldn’t keep standing so close to Neal, it would become obvious what he was doing. He stepped back and Neal swung around to face him. Still straddling Peter’s briefcase, Neal executed a very subtle slide and grind against the pole. He wore a filthy, salacious grin and kept his eyes cast downward, right at Peter’s aching cock.
Four more stops and they had to get out. Peter crowded Neal as the climbed up to street level. The intersection of 79th and Broadway was busy, shoppers and residents and dozens of people with dogs on leashes and babies in carriages all jostled along. Peter was dying to pull Neal into an alley and fuck him, but it was not that kind of neighborhood. He set a brisk pace and Neal struggled to keep up, the thing in his hole making it difficult to walk quickly. A few times, Peter had to catch Neal before he fell face first onto the pavement.
They finally made it to June’s place and while Neal was fumbling for his keys, Peter pushed him hard up against the door and kissed him. He cradled Neal’s face between his palms, gentleness in contrast with the ferocity in which he consumed Neal’s mouth, biting and sucking and marking him. Neal gave as good as he got and the two men were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't realize that Neal had pressed against the bell. When June’s housekeeper opened the door, Neal fell backwards and Peter landed on top of him. The housekeeper, who knew all about Neal and Peter’s relationship said nothing, but fought to keep a straight face. Peter helped Neal up and they started up the stairs.
At the first landing, Neal ripped Peter’s jacket and tie off and struggled out of his own jacket.
On the second landing, Peter returned the favor and ripped Neal’s shirt off but somehow managed to leave the tie in place.
Halfway up the stairs, Neal pulled his undershirt off, his tie still hanging around his neck. Peter was naked from the waist up, too.
They kissed and struggled with each other and made it up the last few steps. Neal pushed Peter against the apartment, lifted his leg and tried to climb onto Peter’s cock. Peter reached behind him and opened the door. This time, Peter landed on his ass with Neal on top. They didn’t bother getting up. They laid on the floor, kissing and sucking and biting, grinding into each other as if their lives depended on it.
Neal was the one who broke it off and got up. He stood over Peter, panting as he finished stripping. His cock, still wrapped in the latex, was fully erect and flush against his tight belly. Neal ran his fingers over it and rolled off the condom. He tossed it in the wastebasket.
Peter was still laying on the floor, resting back on his elbows and watching Neal with a lacivious look in his eyes.
Neal held out a hand to him. “Come on, get up.” Peter took Neal’s hand, got up and grabbed him. They grappled and struggled from one side of the apartment to the other and Peter, using his height and weight to his advantage, finally got Neal bent over the dining table. He pressed Neal down, one hand between his shoulder blades, the other on his ass.
“You little shit – you were too busy flirting with the girl to give me what I wanted.” He punctuated that with a slap on Neal’s ass. “Who told you you could flirt?” Peter spanked him again, and without waiting for an answer, a third time and a fourth.
“Peter, please.” Neal’s voice was thready, breathless, but tinged with laughter.
Peter practically shouted, “You think this is funny? I spend two weeks planning this, go through seven levels of hell getting waxed, nearly get my cock strangled and you fucking flirt with a ballet dancer?”
“Peter...” Neal was laughing. Peter could feel his shoulders shake with it.
“What?”
“Look up, look out the doors.”
He did and every drop of blood left his dick and migrated north to his face.
June was outside, on the terrace, cradling her pug in her arms - her face completely expressionless. El was standing next to her, wearing a huge grin and her hand was shoved down her pants. June came back into the apartment, her pace measured and her whole bearing regal. As she passed by the two men, all she said was “Have a good evening.”
El followed her inside but didn’t leave. She just pulled out a chair, sat down and asked, “What’s this about a ballet dancer?”
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodanRating: NC-17 – Slash (Peter/Neal)
Fandom: White Collar (Peter, Neal, very briefly June, and even briefer, El)
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Plugs, Fingering, Darkness, Cock Rings, Dry Humping, The MTA + Crack
Word Count: ~ 5500
Summary: It’s PWP – so see W/E/T above
I had originally suggested Neal and Peter on the subway as a prompt for the wicked awesome
hoosierbitch, she got booked with more porn than one person should be obligated to write, and suggested that I might try to write it. Completely un-beta'd, but many thanks to my awesome flist, who gave me a swift and precise education on the use of metal cock rings.Neal came back from his lunch break to find Peter out of the office and a sealed box on his chair. The label had been carefully removed and there was no postage on it. As he picked it up, his phone buzzed with an incoming text message. It was from Peter, from his private cell.
Meet me in ten minutes, you know where. Take the box with you.
Neal fought to keep a grin from his face. Peter had recently introduced him to the discreet pleasures of the tenth floor bathroom. He could just imagine what was inside the box.
Five hundred and some odd seconds later, Neal wandered out of the office, package in hand. The box that is, the package between his legs would be, hopefully, in Peter's hands in a few more minutes.
Neal walked the few flights to the tenth floor. This time of day was tricky. If he took the elevator, someone would undoubtedly ask why he was getting out on an unoccupied floor. Peter used the duct tape on the latch trick to ensure that Neal would be able to get into the space from the stairwell. When he emerged, everything was dark, except for a thin line of light from the men's room.
Most people, when they walk into a room expecting to find someone, will call out that person's name. Neal knew that could be very stupid - so he opened the door gingerly and flicked off the lights.
"Good boy, Neal. You're learning some discretion." Peter's voice was eerie and distorted in the darkness of the tiled space. "You brought the box?"
"A little light would help, Peter." Neal didn't care for the utter blackness of the windowless room. It reminded him of a time best forgotten.
"The ambiance of fluorescent lighting leaves much to be desired." Peter's voice, low and slightly menacing, was right at his ear and Neal could suddenly feel the heat coming off his lover's body. That heat made him feel safe, made the darkness less fearsome.
Peter sensed Neal's discomfort. A few setting changes on his cell phone and the backlight was set to stay on. With the phone onto the edge of the sink, the bluish light dispelled just enough of the darkness that Neal could see Peter's face in the mirror, albeit in deep shadow. The lust and the love, however, were clearly visible.
Peter leaned into Neal, pressing his cock into his lover's ass. A year ago, the thought of fucking in the office would never have occurred to him. But his desire for Neal, for that sweet ass, seeing those liquid blue eyes go wide with need and love and even a tiny touch of fear, overrode his sense of self-preservation. Just leaving the box on Neal's chair was a risky move.
He bent forward and caught Neal's earlobe with his teeth, forcing himself to nibble gently, even though he wanted to mark him for all of the world to see. He felt Neal shudder at the sensation, and he forced his head around and took his mouth in a punishing kiss. Neal melted against him, becoming a pliant creature, moaning his aching desire into Peter's mouth.
He released Neal's lips and went to work on his belt and fly, efficiently stripping him below the waist. Peter stroked Neal's cock, lightly, teasingly, his finger ghosting up and down the hot, hard length, his thumb catching a small, precious spurt of pre-cum.
"Open the box."
Neal fumbled with the carton, and then found an edge where Peter had cleverly folded the tape back over itself. By the cell phone's light, Neal was able to make out a bottle of lube, a good sized plug and a condom.
"We're going to take the subway home tonight. I'm going to ride your ass from Franklin Street up to 79th and Broadway. There's a pole with your name on it and you're going to dance for me.
Neal moaned at the image, wildly picturing himself doing a slide and grind against the subway car’s pole – but in his head, the car’s empty except for him and Peter. Then he goes a little cold at the thought of all those other people watching him.
“Neal, what’s wrong?” Just as Peter understood his unease with the absolute darkness, he seemed to pick up on Neal’s distress at performing publicly. “Tell me if this is something that you don’t want.”
“I don’t want anyone to watch us – no one but Elizabeth.” Neal knew this was an irrational reaction; of course he wasn’t going to be on public display.
Neal felt Peter’s lips curve into a grin against his ear. “If we do this right, no one will know. No one would ever know. Is that okay with you?” Peter nipped his ear again.
Neal nodded, but Peter wasn’t satisfied with that response. “Tell me yes. Tell me no.”
“Yes, Peter. I’m okay.” Neal was breathless, a little fear was good.
“Then lean over and spread your legs.”
Neal obeyed and felt Peter tuck his shirt up and out of the way. His cock hardened even further in a near-Pavlovian response to the sound of the cap from the bottle of lube popping opened. Peter’s fingers were cool with the slick against his hot, tight skin, and he reached around to open himself up.
“Did I tell you to let go of the sink?”
Neal replied softly, “No,” and returned his hands to their original position.
When it was just the two of them, their play was often brutal and intense, but never more than Neal could take. However, Peter could also bring him to the point of breaking with just some unexpected tenderness. He shivered as Peter began to finger him with a rare gentleness. His big, blunt fingers rubbed and teased the lube around the tight rim of his asshole, circling around and around until Neal whimpered and pushed back, begging with just his body. Peter gave into that begging and pushed two fingers inside of him and slowly worked them back and forth, and then he added a third and a fourth, carefully, painstakingly stretching him. Neal gave a thready, breathless moan.
“Are you ready for this?”
“Yes.” All of a sudden the near darkness became total as Peter’s cell phone turned itself off. Neal was beyond the point of fear, he knew where he was, who he was with.
Peter fumbled a bit for the box, and handed Neal the condom. “Hold onto this.” He heard the Peter slick up the gelly and a few seconds later he jumped a bit as the cool silicone touched his heated skin. Neal spread his legs and pressed out, willing his body to accept the thick plug. He sucked in his breath as the first part breached him, and then the rest of it. It was the perfect length, pressing up against his prostate.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the condom was for. The way that thing was going to sit within him, he might come just from walking down the stairs.
Peter wrapped his arms around Neal’s waist and pressed into him, his clothed cock pressing against Neal’s slicked up ass.
“Careful – you may get stained.”
Peter chuckled in his ear. “When did you get so practical?” He pushed harder against him, uncaring of the marks that the slick might leave on his pants.
Neal shuddered as his cock was pressed against the cold porcelain sink. He twisted around, and leaned back, enjoying the feel of the plug in his ass. In a few quick motions, he rolled the condom over his cock. The tightness of the latex actually felt good, it gave him a measure of control. He pulled up his pants and tucked in his shirt – fixing the fine points of his tailoring would have to wait until Peter left and he could turn on a light.
As he adjusted his hard dick the best he could and buckled his belt, Peter’s hand came down hard on his shoulder, and Neal dropped to his knees. He tried to nuzzle at Peter’s cock but Peter held his head still.
“I want you to prepare me. Just thinking about you with that thing up your ass for the rest of the day, with your rock hard cock is going to make me come.”
Neal sucked in his breath – Peter had never admitted to ever having less than perfect control. He fought against his own arousal – the thought of his lover coming without wanting to, was mind-blowing.
“Let me suck you off. Let me drink you down.” Neal begged.
“No – not now. I want you to put this on me.” Peter brushed something against his cheek. It was his titanium cock ring.
Neal’s head spun. He’d worn that ring for Peter a few times, including one very memorable morning when Peter put it on him before they went to work and it kept him hard and hurting for hours. It was also the first time that they’d left the office for sex, and the first time that Peter put his mouth on his cock.
Peter tapped the ring against his cheek, bringing him back to the here and now.
Thankfully, Peter wasn’t fully tumescent. In the total darkness, he couldn’t see the surprise Peter had waiting for him. When Neal went to feed his balls through the ring, his fingers found just firm, slightly wrinkled and hairless flesh. No sweaty curls and tendrils of pubic hair. He caught his breath and explored a little further. Peter was completely bare - from his navel to his thighs, and no evidence of stubble.
“You got waxed?” Neal could barely get the question out.
“Yeah - it hurt like hell. You like?”
“Holy shit. How can you ask?” Neal wanted to dive opened mouthed down onto Peter’s cock and swallow him whole. He wanted to suck on his balls, tease his belly, and bury his face between Peter’s ass cheeks. But he was a good boy, and gently, carefully worked Peter’s balls -- hairless; they were like two fat, ripe plums -- through the cock ring. By the time he was finished, Neal was tense and sweating, his thighs and ass straining to retain the plug, he whole body yearning to consume Peter.
“Can I suck you now?”
“No.” Peter was firm and unyielding. “A little denial will be good for both of us.” Peter carefully tucked himself back into his clothes and helped Neal up off the floor.
Neal laughed a bit.
"What's so funny?" Even with that question, he could tell that Peter knew why he was laughing.
"You're bound, I'm stuffed. How the hell are we going to make it through the day without exploding?"
Peter chuckled too. "It's going to be a very interesting afternoon, if I have to say so myself."
He brushed his lips against Neal's, flicked on the bathroom light and as Neal blinked against the sudden brightness, Peter grabbed his phone and left.
Neal let his eyes adjust. The fluorescent lights flatten the shadows and banished all mystery from the space. Without the darkness, the bathroom became just that, a bathroom – not a secret rendezvous for fugitive lovers. He straightened his tie and retucked his shirt, carefully adjusting his cuffs. He brushed his hands down the front of his pants, feeling the bulge of his semi-erect cock. The pleated front of the black wool hid it well, but as Neal squeezed his ass cheeks against the silicone plug, the bulge grew just a little bigger. Oh yes, the rest of this afternoon's going to be a lot of fun.
The walk back to his office was not easy. This was the first time he ever wore a cock ring. The unyielding metal bit into his flesh and he wondered at the crazy impulse that led him to this decision. When he played with Neal’s beringed cock, he was fascinated at how he could take the pain and stay so aroused. He had found himself thinking about it all to frequently, and one evening last week, El caught that look in his eyes and pleasurably tormented a confession out of him – about how loved to keep Neal on tenterhooks, how much enjoyment he got from making him hold on, for hours or even days. El had tried to understand it. She wasn’t a fan of orgasm denial for any reason and being able to come three or four times to his own single shot made that type of play kind of ridiculous between just the two of them.
The conversation turned serious. More than just the orgasm denial, El wanted to understand where this need to control came from, since it had never emerged during their ten-plus years of marriage. Peter had been thinking about for quite a while actually, and the answer wasn’t easy to articulate. The best explanation he was could give her was that Neal was so hard to control in their day-to-day activities (and in fact he secretly relied on that aspect of Neal’s personality to get the job done), that sex was probably the only time Peter could truly be in control of Neal.
El had looked at him like she wanted to call “bullshit.” Peter didn’t retract but tried to explain that no matter how hard their play got, how deep he’d send Neal into subspace, he never would do anything that Neal didn’t want or they hadn’t discussed beforehand. He loved Neal not because he blindly submitted, but because Neal was willing to give, for a moment in time, control over to him. El was still sceptical. Finally he said “I don’t think of Neal as anything less than my equal. I know he's not a toy or a thing.” El was satisfied, but she suggested that Peter might enjoy understanding what Neal felt when he wore that ring. Peter was crazy enough to agree. After all, if Neal could take it, why couldn’t he?
The waxing though – that wasn’t simple crazy. That was just fucking insane. He couldn’t even blame his wife for this idea – it was all his own. But in his defense, El only half-heartedly tried to talk him out of it, and she did make the appointment at the aesthetician. And supplied the post-operative Benadryl and ice. It did feel good though, once all the swelling and redness went away. It felt even better when El went down on him. She couldn’t deep throat him like Neal, it was just physically impossible for her, but her control and finesse could render him cross-eyed.
By the time he sat down behind his desk, he was still unsure if he was enjoying the sensation of the ring around his privates or he was in actual pain. After an hour of struggling against the feel of the ring, Peter needed to do something. Being a Supervisory Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he consulted his resident Subject Matter Expert for additional information.
Text from PJB (Private) to NC (Private) – 2:41 p.m.
Is this thing supposed to hurt?
Reply from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 2:43 p.m.
Yeah, but in a good way
Reply from PJB (Private) to NC (Private) – 2:47 p.m.
I don’t know if it’s good or not
Reply from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 2:50 p.m.
Is it pinching or do you just feel bound?
Peter stood up, turned to face the window, and tried to adjust himself.
Text from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 2:56 p.m.
Feel better?
Reply from PJB (Private) to NC (Private) – 2:59 p.m.
No
Reply from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 3:01 p.m.
Still hard?
Reply from PJB (Private) to NC (Private) – 3:05 p.m.
Yeah
Reply from NC (Private) to PJB (Private) – 3:08 p.m.
Then you’re ok
Peter carelessly shoved the cell phone back into his pocket when Hughes walked into his office to remind him about the budget meeting for the all the departments in the NYC field office. Senior staff attendence was mandatory. He stifled a yelp as the phone hit the base of his cock, banging into the ring.
“You all right, Peter?”
He rocked back and forth on his chair, sucked air through his nose and tried to keep his eyes from crossing. “Yeah. Leg cramp. Will be there in a few minutes.”
Thankfully Hughes left and Peter stood up very carefully and stretched. Looking on the bright side of things, a two hour budget meeting was probably the most unarousing block of time this whole week, and even if the ring kept him from going flaccid, he certainly wouldn’t get any more aroused by looking at graphs and charts and doing staffing and budget projections. On the other hand, the large conference center on the 12th floor was an auditorium and the space would undoubtedly be dark and inviting – and his mind would certainly wander away from boring staffing and budget projections.
Peter left the office without pausing at Neal’s desk, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see Neal duck his head and smile.
Neal worked his way through the remainder of the day, the plug in his ass a pleasant distraction. Unlike the first time Peter made him wear a plug at the office, this one was substantial enough for him contain without undue effort and best of all (at least for his peace of mind) it didn’t have a vibe feature (or if it did, Peter wasn’t activating it). What was more arousing than the plug, though, was sense memory of Peter’s perfectly smooth skin under his fingertips. Neal didn’t think he’d ever fear total darkness again. All he’d need to do was remember the silken smoothness of the bare flesh at the base of Peter’s cock, the firmness of his hairless balls. Neal’s mouth actually started to water at the memory of the expanse of naked skin he touched, but couldn’t see. Neal was thrilled that Peter had actually done something that Neal never had. He kept himself closely trimmed, and had shaved just once (and never again because of the stubble), but Neal had never gotten waxed. Maybe it was time.
And almost more arousing was the thought of Peter wearing his ring. Peter was clearly disconcerted by it – metal cock rings weren’t for everyone – leather straps and silicone were easier to wear even if they could be more constricting. But Peter and his highly competitive streak wouldn’t take the easy road – not if Neal had already forged the path. It was all Neal could do to keep from cracking up at Peter’s text messages.
The two and a half hours that Peter was in his meeting didn’t exactly fly by. Neal frequently worked his asscheeks against the plug, but not so frequently to cause his hard-on to become unmanageable. The case he was working on was interesting, and he spent quite a while going over some of the finer points with Jones and Diana and a few of Peter’s other staff members. It was well after five when Peter stumbled, literally, back into the office. He didn’t look too good. He was flushed and sweating and holding his jacket against the front of his pants.
Neal jumped out of his chair to give Peter a hand. Fortunately, the rest of the office had emptied out on the dot of five (it was Friday, after all) and Hughes was nowhere to be seen.
“Are you okay?” Neal thought Peter might be having a heart attack, he looked so bad.
“Get this thing off of me.” Peter gritted his teeth. Neal tugged Peter’s jacket away. The bulge in his pants was obscenely huge.
“Don’t move” Neal advised, quite unnecessarily. He bolted up the stairs and grabbed a clean towel from Peter’s gym bag, filled a cup with ice and water and got the bottle of lube from their earlier play.
Since Peter and Neal were the only ones left in the office, they used the mens room on that floor. Neal didn’t think Peter could make it to the one on 10, but he did lock the door behind him. Neal steered Peter into the handicapped stall and carefully took off Peter’s pants and briefs. He was almost afraid of what he would find, but aside from a truly inspiring erection, there was no sign of tissue distress.
Peter closed his eyes, afraid to look. Until he heard Neal’s laugh.
“What’s so fucking funny, Caffrey?”
“You. You’re damned gorgeous. Big and red and wet and bare and delicious.” Neal touched the ring with one gentle finger. There was some movement there, and he ran it down the top of Peter’s cock and teased the the fat, bulbous head. “Peter...”
“Caffrey...” The man growled at Neal.
“Don’t worry, Peter. Your peter’s going to be just fine. We won’t have to get it cut off.”
“Oh my god. You mean ...”
“The ring, you idiot. Not your cock.” Neal was enjoying himself. So rare to see Peter in anything less than perfect control. The scare tactics were working, and Peter’s arousal diminished just a bit. The slight give in the ring against Peter’s cock was just enough to let some of the blood flow back into circulation.
Neal had Peter sit down and he spread the towel over his thighs and under his cock.
“What are you doing?”
“As much as I’d like to blow you, I think some ice water will be more effective in reducing the, ahhh, swelling.”
Peter hissed at the shock as Neal poured the cold liquid over him, and it was definitely working. He dumped some of the ice onto Peter’s flesh and used the towel as a sling, gently working it against the hot skin. The treatment was effective and Peter’s cock shrunk to the point that the ring was loose enough that he could fit the tip of his finger into it. He took the ice filled towel away and lubed Peter up. Neal very carefully eased the testicles out of the ring, which then fell right off. He wiped it and stuck it in his pocket.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve never worn a metal ring? They’re for the pros.”
More than relieved that he escaped permanent injury, Peter growled. “You’ve worn that damned ring plenty of times. You picked it out, for crissakes!”
“Peter, I’ve got a little more experience with these things.” Neal said gently.
“Well, it’s all El’s fault.” Peter grumbled
“What?”
“She’s the one who suggested I try it.”
Neal didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “As much as I love and adore your wife, she’s not exactly the person I’d consult about bondage toys.” Neal examined Peter’s flesh, which seemed to have returned to its normal resting state. He placed a reverent kiss at the base of Peter’s cock, where it met the pubis. It twitched and started to flush with arousal.
“You’re just fine.” Neal stood up and handed Peter his clothing. “I guess you’ll want to take it easy tonight.” He didn’t try to hard to keep the resigned disappointment from his voice.
“Hell no. Get out of here and wait for me downstairs.”
After Neal left, but before he got dressed, Peter wanted to make sure that Neal’s diagnosis was accurate. He stroked his fist gently up and down his cock and to his everlasting relief and undoubted delight, his cock responded as cocks are supposed to. He dressed, washed up and dumped the damp gym towel in the trash. A wise move, since he met Hughes just as the other man was getting off the elevator. They walked back into the office together and Peter thanked Hughes for including a line item that would give Neal a wage commensurate with his skills and the value he contributed to the department. Peter collected his briefcase and jacket and as he waited for the elevator, he couldn’t help but smile. Neal certainly earned his raise today.
They met at the steps of Federal Plaza and walked south in companionable silence. The early May evening held the promise of the warmer days to come. Peter smiled when Neal’s usually graceful stride took a hitch several times during the ten minute walk to the subway. The plug was doing its job. The Franklin Street Station was busy with the tail end of the Friday rush hour, and Peter hoped the car would be crowded enough to give then the opportunity to play and it was.
Peter escorted (okay, pushed) Neal onto a car in the middle of the train, one which would be most crowded at that time of day. He manouvered (or better to say, manhandled) him so that Neal was pressed solidly against one of the poles, just like he wanted. He deposited his briefcase between Neal’s feet and the base of the pole - marking just a little territory and took up his position, chest against Neal’s back, an arm reaching about Neal’s head to keep himself steady. To not appear so obvious that he was about to molest the man in front of him.
As more people jammed into the car, Peter was pushed up against Neal, from shoulders to knees and Neal didn't react, he just leaned into the pole. A gorgeous woman with a lithe dancer’s body was standing in front of him. She must have liked what she was seeing because she started to chat Neal up.
The train finally pulled out of the station and the car rocked, pushing Peter harder against Neal, and Neal harder against the pole. Neal seemed completely oblivious, as he struck up a conversation with his new admirer. The clacking of the wheels made it hard to hear what Neal and the woman were saying to each other, even though Peter was less than a foot away. The train was an express to Penn Station, and for the next eighteen minutes, Peter dry humped Neal, his cock pushing the plug deeper into Neal’s ass.
Neal didn’t react one bit, casually chatting away with the woman in front of him. Peter looked up at the security mirror and even with the distortion of the curved glass, he could tell the she going to put the moves on his boy at any moment. The train came to a halt at Penn and just as the doors started to open, the bitch pulled out a card and handed it to Neal. Despite the unintelligible loudspeaker and the rest of humanity moving around them, he could now hear Neal’s voice clearly.
“Thank you...” Neal glanced down at the card to get the woman’s name and then must have flashed her that incredible Caffrey grin, because her face lit up like Times Square. “...Suzannah, but I don’t think so. The guy behind me, the one who’s practically got his dick up my ass – he’s my partner.”
Rather than being offended, the woman looked intrigued and smiled at Peter too. “Maybe a threesome? I’m a ballet dancer, and really quite flexible.”
Peter grinned. You gotta love New York. “Thank you too, but no. My wife would probably mind.”
Suzannah laughed. “Pity – a foursome would be even more fun. If you ever change your mind, call me.” She winked at them, squeezed her way through the herd of people trying to board the subway car and disappeared into the station. Neal pocketed her card.
If anything, the train was more crowded when it pulled out of Penn when it became a local, stopping next at Times Square. Peter ground himself against Neal and they both hissed. Peter was still sensitive from the ring and he was pushing on the plug so that it kept hitting Neal’s prostate. More bodies got on and Peter was doing his best to make Neal get off.
Peter kept dry humping Neal until the Columbus Circle stop, when the subway car emptied out, and only a few people got on. In the nearly empty car, Peter couldn’t keep standing so close to Neal, it would become obvious what he was doing. He stepped back and Neal swung around to face him. Still straddling Peter’s briefcase, Neal executed a very subtle slide and grind against the pole. He wore a filthy, salacious grin and kept his eyes cast downward, right at Peter’s aching cock.
Four more stops and they had to get out. Peter crowded Neal as the climbed up to street level. The intersection of 79th and Broadway was busy, shoppers and residents and dozens of people with dogs on leashes and babies in carriages all jostled along. Peter was dying to pull Neal into an alley and fuck him, but it was not that kind of neighborhood. He set a brisk pace and Neal struggled to keep up, the thing in his hole making it difficult to walk quickly. A few times, Peter had to catch Neal before he fell face first onto the pavement.
They finally made it to June’s place and while Neal was fumbling for his keys, Peter pushed him hard up against the door and kissed him. He cradled Neal’s face between his palms, gentleness in contrast with the ferocity in which he consumed Neal’s mouth, biting and sucking and marking him. Neal gave as good as he got and the two men were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't realize that Neal had pressed against the bell. When June’s housekeeper opened the door, Neal fell backwards and Peter landed on top of him. The housekeeper, who knew all about Neal and Peter’s relationship said nothing, but fought to keep a straight face. Peter helped Neal up and they started up the stairs.
At the first landing, Neal ripped Peter’s jacket and tie off and struggled out of his own jacket.
On the second landing, Peter returned the favor and ripped Neal’s shirt off but somehow managed to leave the tie in place.
Halfway up the stairs, Neal pulled his undershirt off, his tie still hanging around his neck. Peter was naked from the waist up, too.
They kissed and struggled with each other and made it up the last few steps. Neal pushed Peter against the apartment, lifted his leg and tried to climb onto Peter’s cock. Peter reached behind him and opened the door. This time, Peter landed on his ass with Neal on top. They didn’t bother getting up. They laid on the floor, kissing and sucking and biting, grinding into each other as if their lives depended on it.
Neal was the one who broke it off and got up. He stood over Peter, panting as he finished stripping. His cock, still wrapped in the latex, was fully erect and flush against his tight belly. Neal ran his fingers over it and rolled off the condom. He tossed it in the wastebasket.
Peter was still laying on the floor, resting back on his elbows and watching Neal with a lacivious look in his eyes.
Neal held out a hand to him. “Come on, get up.” Peter took Neal’s hand, got up and grabbed him. They grappled and struggled from one side of the apartment to the other and Peter, using his height and weight to his advantage, finally got Neal bent over the dining table. He pressed Neal down, one hand between his shoulder blades, the other on his ass.
“You little shit – you were too busy flirting with the girl to give me what I wanted.” He punctuated that with a slap on Neal’s ass. “Who told you you could flirt?” Peter spanked him again, and without waiting for an answer, a third time and a fourth.
“Peter, please.” Neal’s voice was thready, breathless, but tinged with laughter.
Peter practically shouted, “You think this is funny? I spend two weeks planning this, go through seven levels of hell getting waxed, nearly get my cock strangled and you fucking flirt with a ballet dancer?”
“Peter...” Neal was laughing. Peter could feel his shoulders shake with it.
“What?”
“Look up, look out the doors.”
He did and every drop of blood left his dick and migrated north to his face.
June was outside, on the terrace, cradling her pug in her arms - her face completely expressionless. El was standing next to her, wearing a huge grin and her hand was shoved down her pants. June came back into the apartment, her pace measured and her whole bearing regal. As she passed by the two men, all she said was “Have a good evening.”
El followed her inside but didn’t leave. She just pulled out a chair, sat down and asked, “What’s this about a ballet dancer?”
