White Collar Fic - What We Like and How We Like It - SPQR II (Paladin 'Verse)

[elrhiarhodan]

Title: What We Like and How We Like It (SPQR II)
Author: elrhiarhodan
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: White Collar, no spoilers
Characters/Pairings: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, (Peter/Elizabeth/Neal)
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Discipline, Butt Plugs, Floggers, Crops, Massive Erections, Kissing, Oral Sex, Pain!Play (discussion of), Switch!Play. Venn Diagrams too.
Word Count: ~2500
Summary: Neal, first person POV. Among other things, Peter and Neal tell Elizabeth about their deep cover operation. El’s upset, naturally and she takes it out on Neal.

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We’ve never discussed certain aspects of our relationship - things just sort of fell into place. Peter is top, full stop. That’s not to say that it’s always his dick deep in my ass, but when it’s mine in his - it’s a fully negotiated act. I don’t just spontaneously flip him over and mount him like a dog. Which is not that I don’t want to (and I really do want to), but I think he’d have a nervous breakdown afterward. I’ve often wondered if he’d be able to look me in the eye at work if I give him the fucking he deserved. And frankly - I enjoy our working relationship far too much to (pardon the pun) screw that up.

So, when Peter gets in one of those moods - you know the kind I’m talking about, when he’s frustrated, aggravated or just plain horny, it’s my ass on the line. Or under his hands, or stuffed with something that’s not quite as big as his extraordinarily well-endowed dick, but usually considerably harder and far less flexible.

Thankfully, Peter has a hard time (and yes, this pun’s intended) with doling out truly harsh treatment – the kind that draws blood and leaves lasting marks and has no purpose other than to inflict pain. He’s good with the crop and the flogger and even the cat, using just the right touch of strength and power to leave my ass and back aching pleasurably for days. I like that type of pain, it keeps me real and grounded. Elizabeth does her best work with the crop, and she’s getting good with the flogger too – but she tends to overcompensate for lack of upper body strength. We’re working on it and Elizabeth will get there soon enough - and by working on it, I mean that sometimes she practices on Peter’s ass too. Regardless of her burgeoning skills with instruments of discipline, neither Peter nor I will let her near the cat.

I like watching the dynamic between Peter and Elizabeth. Peter may be Mr. Top of the Roof of the World, the summit of Everest itself, a hard case, a badass - truth, justice and the American Way - but with Elizabeth, he could be as sweet a nelly-bottom as any I’ve seen. Elizabeth and I talked about this once or twice - she claims it’s her feminine mystique. I think it’s simply fear. Elizabeth Burke is truly one of the most frightening women I’ve ever met. And I absolutely adore her for it.

Some of the other things we’ve talked about is what we like, what we don’t like and where our boundaries are. Except for administering discipline with the crop or the flogger, Elizabeth doesn’t like pain at all - she doesn’t understand it and certainly doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. Orgasm denial is another type of play she says she’ll never comprehend. Why hold back when you can come five or ten times in a night? I didn’t believe her at first - I’ve been with some pretty amazing women (yes to Kate, yes to Alex, and yes to many others since before I was old enough to shave), but I’ve never been with a woman who could come more than three times without calling for a time out. Elizabeth’s like a fucking Energizer Bunny - she keeps coming and coming and coming and coming...

One night, we did a Venn diagram of our sexual preferences, and with aforementioned exceptions, there was little that didn’t overlap. We both liked big cocks (preferably Peter’s) and we both liked getting fucked hard in the ass. Oral sex is at near top of our respective lists, giving and receiving. We both love fellatio, and watching Elizabeth take Peter’s cock almost all the way down to his cods is downright inspiring. (Did I mention, she’s the perfect woman - she swallows). Cunnilingus is also in the top five on both of our personal hit parades. Elizabeth made me swear never to tell Peter about a certain college roommate. He’s enough of a hound dog that he’d probably like a demonstration or two. I suggested we think about a foursome one day. She didn’t hit me.

We love having our nipples worked hard - though I probably like it harder that she does - but that’s more a case of anatomy than personal preference. Surprisingly enough - we both liked waxplay. I figured, since Elizabeth said she didn’t like pain - waxplay would be out. But everyone has a different level of tolerance, and hot candle wax is just this side of the pleasure line for her. For me too. We both like surprise use of toys, though I’m more willing to try various pervertibles, Elizabeth’s a bit more protective of her everyday household objects (although I think she’s been getting ideas about a certain hobnail glass bud vase that was once her grandmother’s).

While I like pain play as part of a sexual act (in the right circumstances, biting is as much of a turn on as having a mouth on my dick), I don’t like pain for pain’s sake – burns, lubeless fisting, hard clamps and the like. In that, Peter and I are of one mind. Humiliation play is also not on the menu. That’s torture, not sex play. Been there, done that, don’t need another t-shirt.

Of all sexual thrills Elizabeth and I have in common, the most surprising is (to me, at least) kissing Peter. Okay - that’s not as simple as it sounds. I love kissing Peter but Elizabeth loves watching me kiss Peter. Or getting kissed by Peter. She says, masturbation aside, watching us kiss is the surest way for her to achieve a quick and hard orgasm. Yeah, of course her hand is in her panties, but she says (and I’ve seen it) that nothing makes her hotter, quicker than seeing the two of us just kissing.

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The night we tell Elizabeth that we are both going undercover - deep cover, she’s horrified, angry and frightened. A lot of my excitement in the operation evaporates at her distress. I don’t blame her for being angry - it was my loss of control with Ruiz that sent Peter scrambling for an alternative solution, and Rubicov. Do you know what she does when I tell her it was my fault and I apologize? She hits me! Hard - right across the face (good thing it was her ringless hand) - enough to make my head spin. Peter - that bastard - he just stands there and smirks. Elizabeth is not pissed that I screwed up the meeting with Ruiz, she is furious that I blame myself. I open my mouth to explain where my head was at the time, and close it very quickly. I had made Peter promise not to tell Elizabeth about what happened to me in prison - and all of a sudden, I am about to spill everything. Some undercover operative I’m going to make - one hard slap and I almost spill the beans.

She looks at me with that narrowed, ice blue stare of hers, like she knows exactly what I wasn’t going to say.

I think I hear her say something about punishment or maybe it was reward, or maybe it was both - my ears are still ringing, so it was pretty hard to tell. Next thing I know, she’s got my tie (the red and black Italian affair that Peter hates so much) in her fist and she’s pulling me up the stairs to the bedroom. She makes me strip - hell, makes me? It’s not like I don’t want to get out my clothes in a room with a hot woman and a nice big bed in it. I let her manhandle (womanhandle?) me - getting me bent over the easy chair that seen a lot of good times lately - and she kicks my legs apart. I wonder where the hell she learned that maneuver - from her badass FBI husband, maybe? We’ve never played toppy-Elizabeth without Peter before, and frankly - it’s really hitting some buttons for me.

I can hear her rummage through a drawer - probably the toy drawer - hopefully the toy drawer. She gets what she wants and dangles it in front of my face. It’s the crop - the good one. Not the cheap, tacky, mostly vinyl thing ordered from an online catalog, but a real riding crop from a dressage outfit in the Hamptons. (I probably should mention, Elizabeth’s business gives her access to some of the most interesting venues). She brushes it against my cheek and taps it against my mouth. I lick it - it’s a sweet and silly ritual, and I’m content to play along. The leather tastes a bit soapy - I think the last time we used it, it ended up inside Elizabeth’s pussy - not so much a dick substitute, but a dick supplement. The leather cleaner clearly isn’t meant to be digested.

The first blow is the one that hurts the most, it’s also the one that sends the blood rushing from my brain to my dick, which is right now pressed against the rough fabric of that chair. Elizabeth hits me four more times, in quick succession, right on the gluteus maximus. She’s pretty fucking accurate, and she doesn’t cross a single stripe - I wonder if she’s been practicing.

She stops at just those five - even though I could go for a full dozen. I keep my position and I can hear her rummaging again. This time, I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming (besides me, eventually). She’s going through the toy drawer again, and then the night table. I hear an “ah hah!” and then feel her fingers on my ass, tracing the strips from the riding crop. Next thing I feel is her hair brushing against my hot skin, then her lips and tongue against the marks. I shudder in pleasure.

She works her mouth against my ass, nipping the skin between the crop stripes, and I think I hear her say, “I want to hear you scream,” and she bites down hard.

I think I scream. I know I come.

I stay draped over the chair, my come a sticky mess against the fabric and my skin, and the next thing I hear is the snap of the top of a bottle of lube. Peter and I have noticed how much of a Pavlovian reaction we both have to that sound - so much so that I’m tempted to make it an alert for incoming text messages on Peter’s cell phone. My body and mind react accordingly, I widen my legs just a bit more and relax my muscles. Elizabeth whispers “good boy” like I’m a well trained dog (and in a way, I am) and she applies the cool slick with her fingers, easing them into me (and don’t think I don’t realize she’s using the same hand that smacked me earlier). Her hands are small, delicate and strong, she doesn’t quite reach my prostate, but that’s not what she’s aiming for anyway. I whine a bit as she takes them out, and then I feel the blunt end of a plug nuzzling at my asshole.

Elizabeth, dirty girl that she is, asks me if she should shove it hard. I try to answer her do whatever you want but I don’t think the words came out of my mouth in a coherent form. She gives the plug a twist and as she plunges it in, her other hand pushes hard on the bite mark. I think I scream again.

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With the plug up my ass, my butt sore and aching, Elizabeth makes me get my pants back on and go downstairs. Peter’s on the couch, reviewing the Yernakov files, taking notes and he’s wearing those goddamn fucking bifocals. I swear, I didn’t think I could get any harder. Elizabeth pushes me towards the couch (and it’s not like I actually need to be coerced to go there) and tells Peter to put the work away. He looks up at us, glasses perched on the end of his nose. I bite my lip to keep from moaning.

She gives me a hard shove and I land in Peter’s arms like some ridiculous heroine out of a romance novel. Elizabeth’s not done being bossy - not that I mind. She actually orders us kiss.

What choice do we have but to obey?

We start making out. Like a pair of teenagers – only Elizabeth, deliciously kinky Elizabeth, is watching us. She may have out start fully garbed, but it doesn’t take long before she’s got her shirt and pants off, one hand shoved down her panties and the other one toying with her nipples. Peter and I are kissing as if it’s an Olympic competition. There are style points, like when he captures my lower lip and nibbles on it until it’s red and swollen, or when I suck on the beautiful curve of his mouth, flicking my tongue against the sweet corners. He steals my breath away, and then clamps down hard on my ass, pushing that huge plug deeper into my hole, making the crop marks burn and the bite bruise ache. Peter smiles, that evil, loving smirk and then he kisses me again and again until I am helpless and writhing against him. His cock is a bar of steel, I can feel the heat of it burning against me, through the layers of our clothing. As we’re kissing, he’s opening his own pants and pushes my hand onto his dick. It’s huge – bigger than the plug up my ass, and I stroke it, the precum giving me just enough slick that I can get a good rhythm without dragging the skin.

Tonight, Peter isn’t letting me give my full attention to the hand job, he keeps kissing me, eating at my mouth, my jaw, the spot below my earlobes, all the while Elizabeth’s eating us up with her eyes. Finally, he pulls my hand away and shifts us around on the couch - it’s awkward - I’m half reclining and Peter’s on top of me, his weight pressing hard into me. He’s got my wrists in one hand and working at my fly with the other. He doesn’t stop kissing me as he drags my cock out and we’re frotting against each other like schoolboys.

Elizabeth’s already got the easy one out of me, and I really don’t mind that Peter comes all over my belly. He gets all relaxed and his kisses are in slow motion. I look over at Elizabeth, and she just nods and tosses me the bottle of lube.

It’s my turn now.

FIN