elrhiarhodan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elrhiarhodan) wrote2011-01-17 05:29 pm
elrhiarhodan) wrote2011-01-17 05:29 pm
White Collar Fic - Rubbing Elbows With the Moon (please teach me) - Part II
Title: Rubbing Elbows With the Moon (please teach me) - Part II
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Discussion of sex (non-graphic) between minor (17 year old) and adult, past (non-graphic) reference to sex between a minor (16 year old) and adult. Brief intimate contact between minor and adult
Word Count: ~ 12,000
Summary: High School A/U where Peter is teaching calculus in a private school in Connecticut. Neal is his star pupil.
Once again, Peter had a Calculus class scheduled for the last period of the day, and his students were bright and as attentive as they could be on the last day before winter break. The bell rang and scattered with best wishes for the holidays.
Peter sighed. This was going to be a rough break – maybe he should have gone away, taken a cruise. Did something. His ex, Elizabeth, said he looked like crap. Or that he had his heart broken.
Peter supposed both were true. He occasionally got emails from Neal - mostly filled with comments about his academics, sometimes about a cultural event he enjoyed, but never about his social life. He responded in kind - the contents of his replies were carefully blank, neutral to the point of blandness.
He shoved his computer into his briefcase, gathered up some papers and looked up when someone called his name softly.
It was Neal, standing at the door. He looked taller, maybe. Broader, definitely. His hair was long and shaggy, the five o’clock shadow thick and growing into a respectable beard. But he was still heartbreakingly beautiful.
Neal entered the classroom, carefully closing the door behind him.
“Hello, Peter.”
Peter looked everywhere but at Neal.
“Aren’t you going to say ‘hello’ back?”
Peter muttered a greating.
Neal just stood there, hands in his pockets, biting his lip.
“I did like you asked.”
“What?” Peter looked up.
“I came back. Like we agreed. I came back.”
Peter shook his head. “Neal - you didn’t have to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you that when you meet someone else, you shouldn’t look back. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I haven’t met anyone. Why would you think I did?” If Peter didn’t know better, he’d think that Neal was hurt.
“Alex? Alex Hunter? Remember him? The two of you looked pretty good together last spring.”
Neal laughed. “You’re jealous! Alex is a cool guy - but he wasn’t - he isn’t my boyfriend.”
Peter shook his head and sighed. “Neal, please. You don’t have to do this. I’m sure you have better things to do than …”
“Than what?” Neal interruped him. “Than come collect on the promise you made me?”
“No - than come and see what an old fool I am.”
“You’re not old.”
“I’m twenty years older than you, Neal.”
“Which means you’re not even forty yet. Not that forty is old, or anything.”
“It’s plenty old.”
“I don’t care. And don’t tell me it should matter.”
“It does, Neal. It has to.”
“No, Peter. It doesn’t.”
“This is what we’ve descended to? Squabbling like nine-year olds?”
“Well, it’s better than listening to you moan about being too old for me.”
Peter swallowed. “Neal - I am. You know that.”
Neal stepped in close. “No, you’re not. You are still the best man I know.”
Peter looked away. He wanted to step away, rebuild his armor. Neal smelled so good, though. Like a cold day, a warm fireplace, like the woods and musk and soap. Like a man should smell. Like every weakness Peter had.
“You promised me, Peter. You promised that when I finished my first semester, if I still wanted to be with you, we could be together. Were you lying to me?” There was a small accusation and a wealth of hurt in Neal’s voice.
“No, Neal. I wasn’t. But I don’t …” Peter paused.
“You don’t, what?”
Peter closed his eyes and damned himself. “I don’t want to be hurt. Okay? I don’t want you to look at me tomorrow, or next week or next month or whenever and say to yourself, ‘what I am doing?’ I don’t want to feel like a girl - waiting for you to call. I don’t want to come home one night and find all trace of you gone like you never existed. I don’t want to pick up the pieces of myself and try to fit them back together. Only to find that most of what I am is gone.”
“So, you’re saying let’s forget about everything because I’m fickle and shallow and I’ll leave you because I’ve found something better?”
Peter didn’t answer.
“Has that happened before?”
This time, the silence was telling.
“I can’t imagine anyone walking out on you. And I don’t know what I can say that will make you trust me.
Neal stepped in close, temptation on two legs. Peter backed up, retreated, tried to find an escape, but there was none.
“I want you to make good on your promise. I want to be with you, now, tomorrow - maybe forever. And I know you want me too - and I know it’s more than just desire. I saw it in your face, every day. I saw it after graduation. You set the rules, I just played by them. You can’t be angry with me for doing what you told me to do.”
Neal was so close, Peter could feel the heat radiating off his body. No, I can’t.
Peter wrapped the shreds of his dignity around himself and decided that, for once in his life, he was going to do what he wanted, damn caution, damn the future, damn whatever would be. He couldn’t stand here, wallowing in hurt that Neal had moved on, and then when he does show up, reject him in some misguided attempt to protect himself.
He looked into Neal’s blue, blue eyes and smiled. The young man’s answering smile sent an arrow of lust right through him, and this time he wasn’t going to hold back,
Peter spun Neal around and pushed him against the wall. “You want me, Neal? You want to be mine? You want me to fuck you? You want that?” Peter breathed down Neal’s neck, whispering his desires into his ear. “Do you?”
He felt Neal’s shiver, he saw Neal’s nod.
“Not good enough. Tell me, tell me you want me.”
“Yes, Peter. I want you. I want you. I want you.” Neal panted into Peter’s ear as he licked a dirty stripe along his ear, from the white collar of his shirt to his ear.
“Did you let anyone fuck you?” Peter wondered at himself. It had been a long time since he’d let himself go like this. “Did anyone touch you?”
Neal threw his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes. He shook his head.
“Not good enough, Neal. I’ve already told you, you need to say it. I’m not going to repeat myself a third time.”
“No, no one’s touched me, no one’s fucked me.”
“Good - because if you’re going to be mine, you don’t get to play around.”
“I don’t want to. I just want you.”
Peter pinned him to the wall with his hips - just as he had that night. “When you touch yourself, what do you think of?”
“You, only you. Your mouth, your body. I touch myself and pretend it’s your hands on me.” Neal looked at him - a lascivious gleam in this eyes. “My roommate is kind of scared by how much time I spend jerking off. It’s a good thing his name isn’t ‘Peter’.”
Peter laughed, and humped his groin against Neal’s. “You’re going to have to show me how you handle yourself.”
“You like to watch?” Neal thrust back, and stuck his hand down the back of Peter’s pants, wedging his fingers against the top of his crack.
“You little shit - you come here, into my classroom...”
“But you like it, don’t you?” Neal was provocation in a leather jacket and black turtleneck.
Peter didn’t answer, or at least his answer wasn’t verbal. He kissed Neal - hot, hard, uncaring of who might walk in, who might see them. Neal melted against him, moaning in his need. He pulled back. “You taste as good as my dreams.”
Neal reached for his belt, but Peter pushed his hands away. “You don’t get to touch me until I say so.” He wanted to shove Neal onto his knees, he wanted to plunder that mouth, ravage it.
In the small part of his brain that remained sane and detached, Peter wondered at his own behavior. Going so full bore dominate on Neal - who by his own admission, still had limited experience. But Neal mewled again and the small sound sent him over the edge. He may have actually pushed Neal down to the floor and shoved his cock in his mouth, but a wave of sound penetrated through the closed door.
They didn’t break apart, but Peter put a few inches between them. “We’re not doing this here.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve made reservations for us at the Old Lyme Inn - through Christmas day.”
“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
Neal pressed a small, sweet kiss against the corner of Peter’s mouth. “No, but I wanted it to be right.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He swept up his coat and case and slung an arm around Neal.
The halls were still full of students, but no one paid attention to them. Walking out with his arm on Neal’s shoulder, he felt a rising tide of joy, of freedom. Students wished him happy holidays, a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year.
He should be worried at the image he made, he should be worried that his students, his fellow teachers, would see him openly affectionate with another man.
He didn’t care. He was happy and in love and for the first time in his life, he just didn’t care.
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodan Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Discussion of sex (non-graphic) between minor (17 year old) and adult, past (non-graphic) reference to sex between a minor (16 year old) and adult. Brief intimate contact between minor and adult
Word Count: ~ 12,000
Summary: High School A/U where Peter is teaching calculus in a private school in Connecticut. Neal is his star pupil.
Once again, Peter had a Calculus class scheduled for the last period of the day, and his students were bright and as attentive as they could be on the last day before winter break. The bell rang and scattered with best wishes for the holidays.
Peter sighed. This was going to be a rough break – maybe he should have gone away, taken a cruise. Did something. His ex, Elizabeth, said he looked like crap. Or that he had his heart broken.
Peter supposed both were true. He occasionally got emails from Neal - mostly filled with comments about his academics, sometimes about a cultural event he enjoyed, but never about his social life. He responded in kind - the contents of his replies were carefully blank, neutral to the point of blandness.
He shoved his computer into his briefcase, gathered up some papers and looked up when someone called his name softly.
It was Neal, standing at the door. He looked taller, maybe. Broader, definitely. His hair was long and shaggy, the five o’clock shadow thick and growing into a respectable beard. But he was still heartbreakingly beautiful.
Neal entered the classroom, carefully closing the door behind him.
“Hello, Peter.”
Peter looked everywhere but at Neal.
“Aren’t you going to say ‘hello’ back?”
Peter muttered a greating.
Neal just stood there, hands in his pockets, biting his lip.
“I did like you asked.”
“What?” Peter looked up.
“I came back. Like we agreed. I came back.”
Peter shook his head. “Neal - you didn’t have to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you that when you meet someone else, you shouldn’t look back. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I haven’t met anyone. Why would you think I did?” If Peter didn’t know better, he’d think that Neal was hurt.
“Alex? Alex Hunter? Remember him? The two of you looked pretty good together last spring.”
Neal laughed. “You’re jealous! Alex is a cool guy - but he wasn’t - he isn’t my boyfriend.”
Peter shook his head and sighed. “Neal, please. You don’t have to do this. I’m sure you have better things to do than …”
“Than what?” Neal interruped him. “Than come collect on the promise you made me?”
“No - than come and see what an old fool I am.”
“You’re not old.”
“I’m twenty years older than you, Neal.”
“Which means you’re not even forty yet. Not that forty is old, or anything.”
“It’s plenty old.”
“I don’t care. And don’t tell me it should matter.”
“It does, Neal. It has to.”
“No, Peter. It doesn’t.”
“This is what we’ve descended to? Squabbling like nine-year olds?”
“Well, it’s better than listening to you moan about being too old for me.”
Peter swallowed. “Neal - I am. You know that.”
Neal stepped in close. “No, you’re not. You are still the best man I know.”
Peter looked away. He wanted to step away, rebuild his armor. Neal smelled so good, though. Like a cold day, a warm fireplace, like the woods and musk and soap. Like a man should smell. Like every weakness Peter had.
“You promised me, Peter. You promised that when I finished my first semester, if I still wanted to be with you, we could be together. Were you lying to me?” There was a small accusation and a wealth of hurt in Neal’s voice.
“No, Neal. I wasn’t. But I don’t …” Peter paused.
“You don’t, what?”
Peter closed his eyes and damned himself. “I don’t want to be hurt. Okay? I don’t want you to look at me tomorrow, or next week or next month or whenever and say to yourself, ‘what I am doing?’ I don’t want to feel like a girl - waiting for you to call. I don’t want to come home one night and find all trace of you gone like you never existed. I don’t want to pick up the pieces of myself and try to fit them back together. Only to find that most of what I am is gone.”
“So, you’re saying let’s forget about everything because I’m fickle and shallow and I’ll leave you because I’ve found something better?”
Peter didn’t answer.
“Has that happened before?”
This time, the silence was telling.
“I can’t imagine anyone walking out on you. And I don’t know what I can say that will make you trust me.
Neal stepped in close, temptation on two legs. Peter backed up, retreated, tried to find an escape, but there was none.
“I want you to make good on your promise. I want to be with you, now, tomorrow - maybe forever. And I know you want me too - and I know it’s more than just desire. I saw it in your face, every day. I saw it after graduation. You set the rules, I just played by them. You can’t be angry with me for doing what you told me to do.”
Neal was so close, Peter could feel the heat radiating off his body. No, I can’t.
Peter wrapped the shreds of his dignity around himself and decided that, for once in his life, he was going to do what he wanted, damn caution, damn the future, damn whatever would be. He couldn’t stand here, wallowing in hurt that Neal had moved on, and then when he does show up, reject him in some misguided attempt to protect himself.
He looked into Neal’s blue, blue eyes and smiled. The young man’s answering smile sent an arrow of lust right through him, and this time he wasn’t going to hold back,
Peter spun Neal around and pushed him against the wall. “You want me, Neal? You want to be mine? You want me to fuck you? You want that?” Peter breathed down Neal’s neck, whispering his desires into his ear. “Do you?”
He felt Neal’s shiver, he saw Neal’s nod.
“Not good enough. Tell me, tell me you want me.”
“Yes, Peter. I want you. I want you. I want you.” Neal panted into Peter’s ear as he licked a dirty stripe along his ear, from the white collar of his shirt to his ear.
“Did you let anyone fuck you?” Peter wondered at himself. It had been a long time since he’d let himself go like this. “Did anyone touch you?”
Neal threw his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes. He shook his head.
“Not good enough, Neal. I’ve already told you, you need to say it. I’m not going to repeat myself a third time.”
“No, no one’s touched me, no one’s fucked me.”
“Good - because if you’re going to be mine, you don’t get to play around.”
“I don’t want to. I just want you.”
Peter pinned him to the wall with his hips - just as he had that night. “When you touch yourself, what do you think of?”
“You, only you. Your mouth, your body. I touch myself and pretend it’s your hands on me.” Neal looked at him - a lascivious gleam in this eyes. “My roommate is kind of scared by how much time I spend jerking off. It’s a good thing his name isn’t ‘Peter’.”
Peter laughed, and humped his groin against Neal’s. “You’re going to have to show me how you handle yourself.”
“You like to watch?” Neal thrust back, and stuck his hand down the back of Peter’s pants, wedging his fingers against the top of his crack.
“You little shit - you come here, into my classroom...”
“But you like it, don’t you?” Neal was provocation in a leather jacket and black turtleneck.
Peter didn’t answer, or at least his answer wasn’t verbal. He kissed Neal - hot, hard, uncaring of who might walk in, who might see them. Neal melted against him, moaning in his need. He pulled back. “You taste as good as my dreams.”
Neal reached for his belt, but Peter pushed his hands away. “You don’t get to touch me until I say so.” He wanted to shove Neal onto his knees, he wanted to plunder that mouth, ravage it.
In the small part of his brain that remained sane and detached, Peter wondered at his own behavior. Going so full bore dominate on Neal - who by his own admission, still had limited experience. But Neal mewled again and the small sound sent him over the edge. He may have actually pushed Neal down to the floor and shoved his cock in his mouth, but a wave of sound penetrated through the closed door.
They didn’t break apart, but Peter put a few inches between them. “We’re not doing this here.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve made reservations for us at the Old Lyme Inn - through Christmas day.”
“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
Neal pressed a small, sweet kiss against the corner of Peter’s mouth. “No, but I wanted it to be right.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He swept up his coat and case and slung an arm around Neal.
The halls were still full of students, but no one paid attention to them. Walking out with his arm on Neal’s shoulder, he felt a rising tide of joy, of freedom. Students wished him happy holidays, a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year.
He should be worried at the image he made, he should be worried that his students, his fellow teachers, would see him openly affectionate with another man.
He didn’t care. He was happy and in love and for the first time in his life, he just didn’t care.