elrhiarhodan

Title: This Behaviour Will Not Be Tolerated
Author:

elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Age Play, Disciplining of An Adult
Word Count: ~ 1300
Summary: Curing A Temper Tantrum, for

kink_bingo Fill: AgePlay

Written for

hoosierbitch as a fill for her prompt, Peter - Bad Day At The Office.

_________________

It was Thursday, and since Monday morning, what ever could go wrong, did - spectacularly. Reports went missing, documents misfiled, his normally crack team of agents couldn't find their collective asses with their collective hands. Not one, not two, but three convictions were overturned on appeal because the FBI's computer forensics lab got sloppy - and these were all cases that had tens of thousands of man-hours invested in them.

It was no wonder that by Thursday afternoon, everyone was walking on eggshells around Peter. He didn't yell - that wasn't his style. He just made you feel like you were an idiot, whether or not you deserved it. No one seemed to escape his ire. Even Hughes, his own boss, had beaten a strategic retreat after watching Peter quietly and thoroughly chew out the newest probie. It was a good thing that the guy had been a Marine, and when he came down from Peter's office he told Diana, Jones and Neal that he had drill sergeants in Basic who were nicer.

"You've got to talk to Peter." Jones told Neal.

Neal looked at him quizzically. "Why me? You've worked with him longer. And why not Diana?"

Jones and Diana exchanged glances, which Neal couldn't help but pick up. "You're well, friends with him."

"And you're not?" Neal was getting a little annoyed. He could see where this was heading...

Diana tried to smooth things over. "Clinton's his subordinate, and so am I - we just can't go tell Peter to cut it out." Diana held her breath - hoping Neal would buy the explanation. Unfortunately, she didn't hear Peter come up behind her.

"Tell me to cut what out, Agent Barrigan?"

"Ummm, nothing sir..." Her voice trailed off. She and Clinton took the coward's way out and scurried off - leaving Neal to handle Peter and his uncertain temper.

Peter stared at Neal, eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

Neal cocked his head back and looked at the other man, much like a squirrel contemplating a particularly difficult nut it wanted to crack.

"Let's not do this here." Neal murmured to him.

"Do what?" Peter all but growled. Neal ignored him, picked up his hat and left the office. Peter followed. He thought that maybe Neal would be heading up to their "private" bathroom, and then he remembered that the floor was being made ready for occupancy - and there was no more privacy to be had there. Another thing that went wrong this week.

He followed Neal down to the street and a few blocks to the east. Peter felt like he was a dog on a leash, walking quickly to keep up with his master. He stopped short at the thought. Neal just kept walking, not talking, not looking back. Peter ran a bit to keep up and wondered what the fuck was going on.

Neal stopped and went into an old, narrow building that turned out to be a boutique hotel. He tossed a credit card on the desk and picked up a room key. He brushed by Peter and walked to the elevator, and Peter followed, almost helplessly. He continued to follow when Neal got off and went into a room.

He turned his back on Neal to shut and lock the door, which was a bad mistake. Neal slammed him against the wood, one hand on the back of his neck, the other twisting his arm.

"You don't ever behave like that again." He pushed Peter's face hard against the door. "It stops NOW."

Peter struggled against Neal's hold, but couldn't seem to get any leverage. Neal shifted his grip, spun him around and tossed him face down on the bed.

Peter tried to turn over but Neal got his knee on Peter's ass and pinned him to the mattress. "Do you think your behavior is worthy of a senior FBI agent? Or maybe a five year old who hasn't gotten his way? Which is it?" Neal ground his knee into Peter's ass until he responded.

"A five year old..."

"And what do five year olds get when they misbehave?"

Peter whispered, "A spanking."

“But you’re not five years old, are you?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, sir.”

Neal eased up on the pressure against Peter’s body and Peter lay there, passive. Neal took off his jacket and pulled down his pants and boxers, tucking his shirt up and out of the way. His ass glowed white and smooth, like polished marble in the half-light of the hotel room, and Neal trailed his fingers around the taut muscles and tight curves.

“No, you’re definitely NOT five years old. Which makes your behavior inexcusable.”

Peter shivered at the sound of Neal’s belt sliding out from his pants. “Neal…” He tried half-heartedly to get up. Neal shoved him back down on the bed.

“I’m a little sick and tired of watching you take your temper out on everyone in the office. What are you going to do next, go home and yell at Elizabeth? Beat Satchmo?”

Peter twisted his head around, a shocked look on his face. “I’d never…”

“No, maybe not – but you’re heading there. And frankly – I’m not in the mood to be your whipping boy this weekend.”

Peter started to actively struggle – that was definitely the direction his thoughts had been going for the better part of a week. The only thing that seemed to keep his temper on a leash, and a light one at that, was the thought of Neal, gagged and bound, ass available for his dark pleasures.

Neal let his knee dig painfully into Peter’s ass until he stopped struggling. “Do you want to be cuffed?”

Peter trembled. “Yes…sir.”

His hands bound, all fight left him. He heard the first blow from Neal’s belt before he felt it. And then that was all he could feel. He bit into the pillow under his head to keep from yelling, and then from moaning. Neal laid six lashes on his right cheek and another six on his left, in quick succession. His ass burned, an unfamiliar ache and there was wetness on his face - tears. This was all so unfamiliar, so strange. But it felt like it was the only thing that would make everything right.

Neal leaned over him, gently tracing the path of those tears, his erection pressing into the soreness in his buttocks. Neal brushed a kiss against his temple and nuzzled his neck, just above his shirt collar. “You were so good. Are you feeling better?”

Peter nodded. He did. It was as if something hard and ugly released its hold on him when he relinquished control to Neal.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

Peter nodded again, unwilling to trust his voice. He smiled a bit to himself when he heard the snap/pop of the cap of a bottle of lube. Neal had taken carrying one like a cardiac patient’s bottle of nitroglycerin. The cool slick felt good against the burn and ache of the belt marks, and Neal’s fingers working him, stretching felt even better.

He gasped as Neal, without any further prepping, pushed his cock into him, hard, and then pistoned in and out of him, no finesse, just raw sex. He kept hitting his prostate and Peter just lost control, erupting into the hotel bedding. Neal followed with a hard grunt. When he withdrew, Peter felt Neal’s come leak out of him and run down his thighs.

He lay there, unmoving as he heard Neal zip himself up and put his belt back on. He didn’t move when Neal unlocked the handcuffs and soothed the skin on his wrists and eased his arms out of their cramped position. He didn't move when Neal brushed his fingers through his hair and press a soft kiss on his lips.

He didn’t move until Neal left the room.

FIN