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elrhiarhodanTitle: Men at Work (and at play)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Construction Boots. And buttcrack.
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~ 1200
Summary: There is something to be said for hard, physical labor.
Written for Promptfest IV – from a prompt fromcoffeethyme4me, Neal/Peter – Sweaty Kisses. Part of my Vinegar Hill series. Fills Kiss Bingo Square "Body: Belly".
___________________
For so many reasons, it was better that Neal left the Bureau when his parole was finished, becoming a freelance security consultant (who occasionally worked with the FBI). It made Peter’s life a lot easier, and he willingly exchanged the professional satisfaction he got from working side by side with Neal to being able to keep him close by and under him on a regular basis. Life was also a lot easier now that Neal was living in Brooklyn. Mozzie, with his apparently vast real estate holdings, got Neal a sweet deal on a loft in Vinegar Hill, just a few subway stops from Peter and Elizabeth’s house. Neal had been living there with a distinct lack of amenities for a few weeks when Peter showed up with a borrowed pickup truck filled with plywood, two by fours, drywall and enough tools to outfit a small construction company and carrying a pair of tool belts. In truth, they were from a small construction company - his father’s.
Neal just looked at Peter, in his jeans, work boots and work gloves and said, “Let’s do this.”
Over a month into the renovations, Peter was pleased at how nicely Neal's new abode was shaping up, and he was even more pleased at how nicely Neal was shaping up. All the hard, physical work was putting a little more muscle mass on his lover's lean and wiry frame. They worked nights and weekends, knocking down old divider walls, framing in sections of the huge, open space to define the sleeping areas and an office space, stopping every so often to fuck like rabbits on most of the horizontal surfaces and quite a few of the vertical ones too.
Today was a very productive day; they had finished up framing and dry walling the bedroom area. It would ready for painting tomorrow, a job that Peter was more than willing to leave to Neal, who was planning on something more elaborate than a simple eggshell finish. He was hot and dirty, and his t-shirt streaked with sweat stains. Neal wasn’t in any better condition, his work pants riding low on his skinny hips, the heavy tool belt dragging them down. Peter made a bet with himself that those pants would come completely off with a single yank, but for the moment he focused on the few inches of butt crack and the stripe of pale glowing skin that were on display.
Neal finished spackling the final strip of dry wall tape and stood back to admire his handiwork. Peter wrapped his arms around him and snuffled at his sweaty neck.
“Looks good.”
Peter glanced up and made a murmur of approval before he stuck his nose back into Neal’s neck and licked at the saltiness that accumulated there. “You taste good.” He ran a calloused hand across Neal’s torso, his thumb coming to rest just over the cotton covered nipple. He teased it with the rough edge of his cuticle.
“You keep that up and we won’t get to putting up the framing in the kitchen today.”
Peter grinned and lightly ground his burgeoning erection into Neal’s ass. “I’ve got some framing of my own to put up.”
Neal turned around and mock-glared at Peter. “I had no idea you were such a hound dog.”
“Yeah - well, I spent the better part of four years wearing a cup in the office. I’m inclined to take you as I find you these days.”
Neal’s eyes widened in delight. “Really?”
“Yeah - really. It was rather embarrassing.” Peter found that spot again, the one that tasted like salt and honey and smelled better than almost anything. He licked at it and enjoyed the sensation of Neal slowly writhing against him.
He nibbled at the sweaty skin and was rewarded with another shiver.
But Neal, ever the little narcissist wouldn’t let Peter’s confession rest. “What turned you on about me?”
“Oh, everything.” Peter didn’t really want to tell Neal that he got hard as an iron bar the first time he saw Neal in the Devore and that hat, walking down the stairs as if Peter was his prom date.
“Everything?” Neal wriggled. “Be specific.”
“Why - so you can torture me?”
“That, and so I know what to do to keep you happy.”
Peter looked down at Neal, his face sweat-streaked, plaster dust tangled in his eyebrows, a smear of spackle on his chin, and just the slightest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “All you have to do is be you - and I’ll be happy.” He kissed Neal, a gentle salute at odds with the intensity of the desire riding him. He felt the other man’s smile through that kiss.
“And not forge or lie or cheat or steal.”
“That too.”
Peter tilted up Neal’s dirty chin, and rubbed a thumb over it, letting the plaster compound flake away. He rubbed at it until it was clean and all he could feel was Neal’s scruff growing in. He leaned in and captured his lover’s mouth again – this time letting his passion go. He captured his lover’s moan, his breath, his being.
“Fuck, Peter.” Neal moaned between kisses. “I’m filthy. Let me shower first.”
“Hmmmm, no. I like you like this. All hot and dirty and sweaty.” Peter licked at Neal’s cheek, and then moved onto his ears, lapping at the intricate whorls, nibbling at the sensitive lobe. “You’re my filthy little slut, aren’t you?” He loved to shock Neal with explicit language.
This time though, Neal didn’t react. Instead, he twisted around and tried to return the favor, but Peter wasn’t letting him.
“No, not today. Today, you’re mine. You’ve worked hard enough. Let me take care of you.” Peter’s hands found the buckle on Neal’s tool belt and he deftly undid it, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. And he was right, one sharp tug and Neal was depants’ed. He toyed a bit with his lover, teasing his cock, letting his calloused hands scrape and snag at the sensitive skin.
“You want my mouth on you, baby?”
“Yessss”
Peter backed Neal up against the new wall and striped him bare - well at least bare of pants and t-shirt. There was just something about the sight of his usually so-elegant lover, naked except for the heavy construction boots, leaning back against the wall with complete abandon, which drove him a little crazy.
“God, Neal. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Peter fell to his knees, kissing a path across his tight belly and around his navel, biting then tongue-fucking the tight little indentation, sipping the perspiration that had accumulated that from the day’s hard work. Peter reveled in the taste and the smell of a man’s honest day’s labor. That is was Neal, his Neal, made this all the sweeter.
FIN
Author:
elrhiarhodan Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Construction Boots. And buttcrack.
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~ 1200
Summary: There is something to be said for hard, physical labor.
Written for Promptfest IV – from a prompt from
coffeethyme4me, Neal/Peter – Sweaty Kisses. Part of my Vinegar Hill series. Fills Kiss Bingo Square "Body: Belly".For so many reasons, it was better that Neal left the Bureau when his parole was finished, becoming a freelance security consultant (who occasionally worked with the FBI). It made Peter’s life a lot easier, and he willingly exchanged the professional satisfaction he got from working side by side with Neal to being able to keep him close by and under him on a regular basis. Life was also a lot easier now that Neal was living in Brooklyn. Mozzie, with his apparently vast real estate holdings, got Neal a sweet deal on a loft in Vinegar Hill, just a few subway stops from Peter and Elizabeth’s house. Neal had been living there with a distinct lack of amenities for a few weeks when Peter showed up with a borrowed pickup truck filled with plywood, two by fours, drywall and enough tools to outfit a small construction company and carrying a pair of tool belts. In truth, they were from a small construction company - his father’s.
Neal just looked at Peter, in his jeans, work boots and work gloves and said, “Let’s do this.”
Over a month into the renovations, Peter was pleased at how nicely Neal's new abode was shaping up, and he was even more pleased at how nicely Neal was shaping up. All the hard, physical work was putting a little more muscle mass on his lover's lean and wiry frame. They worked nights and weekends, knocking down old divider walls, framing in sections of the huge, open space to define the sleeping areas and an office space, stopping every so often to fuck like rabbits on most of the horizontal surfaces and quite a few of the vertical ones too.
Today was a very productive day; they had finished up framing and dry walling the bedroom area. It would ready for painting tomorrow, a job that Peter was more than willing to leave to Neal, who was planning on something more elaborate than a simple eggshell finish. He was hot and dirty, and his t-shirt streaked with sweat stains. Neal wasn’t in any better condition, his work pants riding low on his skinny hips, the heavy tool belt dragging them down. Peter made a bet with himself that those pants would come completely off with a single yank, but for the moment he focused on the few inches of butt crack and the stripe of pale glowing skin that were on display.
Neal finished spackling the final strip of dry wall tape and stood back to admire his handiwork. Peter wrapped his arms around him and snuffled at his sweaty neck.
“Looks good.”
Peter glanced up and made a murmur of approval before he stuck his nose back into Neal’s neck and licked at the saltiness that accumulated there. “You taste good.” He ran a calloused hand across Neal’s torso, his thumb coming to rest just over the cotton covered nipple. He teased it with the rough edge of his cuticle.
“You keep that up and we won’t get to putting up the framing in the kitchen today.”
Peter grinned and lightly ground his burgeoning erection into Neal’s ass. “I’ve got some framing of my own to put up.”
Neal turned around and mock-glared at Peter. “I had no idea you were such a hound dog.”
“Yeah - well, I spent the better part of four years wearing a cup in the office. I’m inclined to take you as I find you these days.”
Neal’s eyes widened in delight. “Really?”
“Yeah - really. It was rather embarrassing.” Peter found that spot again, the one that tasted like salt and honey and smelled better than almost anything. He licked at it and enjoyed the sensation of Neal slowly writhing against him.
He nibbled at the sweaty skin and was rewarded with another shiver.
But Neal, ever the little narcissist wouldn’t let Peter’s confession rest. “What turned you on about me?”
“Oh, everything.” Peter didn’t really want to tell Neal that he got hard as an iron bar the first time he saw Neal in the Devore and that hat, walking down the stairs as if Peter was his prom date.
“Everything?” Neal wriggled. “Be specific.”
“Why - so you can torture me?”
“That, and so I know what to do to keep you happy.”
Peter looked down at Neal, his face sweat-streaked, plaster dust tangled in his eyebrows, a smear of spackle on his chin, and just the slightest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “All you have to do is be you - and I’ll be happy.” He kissed Neal, a gentle salute at odds with the intensity of the desire riding him. He felt the other man’s smile through that kiss.
“And not forge or lie or cheat or steal.”
“That too.”
Peter tilted up Neal’s dirty chin, and rubbed a thumb over it, letting the plaster compound flake away. He rubbed at it until it was clean and all he could feel was Neal’s scruff growing in. He leaned in and captured his lover’s mouth again – this time letting his passion go. He captured his lover’s moan, his breath, his being.
“Fuck, Peter.” Neal moaned between kisses. “I’m filthy. Let me shower first.”
“Hmmmm, no. I like you like this. All hot and dirty and sweaty.” Peter licked at Neal’s cheek, and then moved onto his ears, lapping at the intricate whorls, nibbling at the sensitive lobe. “You’re my filthy little slut, aren’t you?” He loved to shock Neal with explicit language.
This time though, Neal didn’t react. Instead, he twisted around and tried to return the favor, but Peter wasn’t letting him.
“No, not today. Today, you’re mine. You’ve worked hard enough. Let me take care of you.” Peter’s hands found the buckle on Neal’s tool belt and he deftly undid it, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. And he was right, one sharp tug and Neal was depants’ed. He toyed a bit with his lover, teasing his cock, letting his calloused hands scrape and snag at the sensitive skin.
“You want my mouth on you, baby?”
“Yessss”
Peter backed Neal up against the new wall and striped him bare - well at least bare of pants and t-shirt. There was just something about the sight of his usually so-elegant lover, naked except for the heavy construction boots, leaning back against the wall with complete abandon, which drove him a little crazy.
“God, Neal. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Peter fell to his knees, kissing a path across his tight belly and around his navel, biting then tongue-fucking the tight little indentation, sipping the perspiration that had accumulated that from the day’s hard work. Peter reveled in the taste and the smell of a man’s honest day’s labor. That is was Neal, his Neal, made this all the sweeter.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-11-15 08:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 01:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 01:27 pm (UTC)Last month's promptfest really helped getting my juices flowing again.
And I do like that prompt...maybe I need to write it.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 09:24 pm (UTC)