elrhiarhodan | Ficlet - The Whole and the Sum of the Parts of Peter Burke

Title: The Whole and the Sum of the Parts of Peter Burke
Author:

elrhiarhodan
Rating: Mildly NC-17
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/PairingsNeal/Peter
Spoilers: None
Summary: A Week at Work with Peter, through Neal’s Eyes
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~900
Disclaimer: I own nothing - but if I did…

Un-beta’d…all mistakes are mine.

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One of Neal’s favorite pastimes is daydreaming about the sexiest parts of Peter.

On Mondays, it is usually his hands. Neal starts with Peter’s palms, which are hard but smooth. In combination with long fingers, those palms are perfect for stroking his cock. Neal likes the feel of Peter’s smooth, dry hand dragging up and down the sensitive skin of his dick, and sometimes even better when Peter stroked him through is briefs. Peter keeps his hands well maintained – no ragged cuticles or jagged nails to scratch at sensitive skin when applying lube or stretching him or reaching for his prostate. Peter has a slight callous on the inside of his middle finger of his right hand, a relic of the years spent writing reports instead of typing them (or having someone else type them). He can make Neal come easily, just by rubbing that callous up and down his cock.

Tuesdays, Neal usually decides that Peter’s wrists and forearms are the sexiest. Elizabeth had a picture of Peter straddling a chair with his arms crossed over the back, sleeves rolled up. When he’s supposed to be reviewing mortgage fraud files and boring cold cases, Neal recreates that photo in a sketch in his head, leaving Peter’s body and face in outline, just mentally drawing Peter’s wrists and forearms in obsessive detail. Sometimes, and not only on Tuesdays, Peter takes off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves. If they are in the conference room with other agents, Neal sits there with his legs tightly crossed. Given how often Peter rolls up his sleeves, even on chilly days, Neal's pretty sure that Peter knows that he's trying to contain his erection.

Peter’s shoulders star in Neal’s Wednesday X-rated matinees. Neal doesn’t like guns, period. Full stop. But Neal likes how Peter’s well-worn leather rig clings so lovingly to those broad shoulders. Neal doesn’t daydream about being tied up with those leather straps, or Peter, shirtless, wearing just the holster. There is just something about seeing Peter in the holster, his button-down shirt and ugly tie that is just so damn sexy. Maybe the artist in Neal just appreciates the way the brown leather straps perfectly frame Peter’s pectoral muscles, separating them from the deltoids. Before Peter, Neal was never a biter during sex. But when he’s riding Peter’s ass, Neal likes to bite down on the apple of Peter’s shoulder as he’s coming.

Thursdays are for dreaming about Peter’s torso. Despite the deviled ham and Sugar-Os, Peter is in remarkably good shape for a man on the inside line to 50. While morning runs and pick-up basketball account for a general level of physical fitness, Peter puts in some serious time at the gym at the Federal Plaza office, workload permitting. Neal also goes to the gym, but not on the same days or at the same times Peter goes. At least, not after the first time seeing Peter do crunches. It’s too difficult (not to mention dangerous) to use any of the equipment when you’re sporting an erection hard enough to crack rocks. Although Neal cheerfully admits to impulse control problems, he can maintain a certain level of discipline when he knows he’ll be getting to the prize soon enough. He can tongue-fuck Peter’s navel until the man is mindless. It’s small payback for the times that Peter seduces/not seduces him in the office.

Fridays are the best days of the workweek, and on Fridays, Neal worships Peter’s face. Mornings start with his strong neck, solid jaw, and expressive but firm lips. Neal can watch Peter sip his coffee for hours – Peter’s lips pursing when taking a drink, his throat gently convulsing in a swallow, his tongue licking the coffee residue from the rim of the cup and from his lips. To Neal, it looks like Peter’s giving the coffee cup a slow, exquisite blow job. By mid-day, Neal focuses on Peter’s nose, eyes and forehead. Not as overtly sexy as his lips and tongue, but Neal often (and more than just on Friday afternoons) believes these are the sexiest parts of Peter. Sharp wit and fierce intelligence, appreciation and attraction shine out of those eyes. On Fridays, Neal will sit across from Peter, in his office, in the conference room, and watch Peter’s face, imagining them fucking without moving.

Neal’s daily admiration routine gets seriously disrupted one Monday morning. He sits in Peter’s office, admiring Peter’s hands (just as if it were any Monday) when those hands reach into a jacket pocket, pull out a pair of narrow framed bifocals and place them on Peter’s nose. Peter’s wrist gives a little twist on the sidepiece, to better adjust the fit. All of a sudden, everything shifts a few degrees from center, and to Neal, it is as if all of the air had been sucked out of the office. He can’t breathe or make a coherent sound, just a small, helpless whimper. Peter looks at Neal over the rim of his glasses, only to see Neal bite down on his wrist, hard. Without a word, Neal exits Peter’s office, walking awkwardly down the stairs, through the bullpen and into the men’s room.

Far from oblivious to Neal’s daydreaming gaze, Peter leans back in his chair and allows himself a small smile of satisfaction at seeing Neal finally crack.

Payback’s a bitch.