White Collar Fic: I’ll take it, as much as you have
Title: I’ll take it, as much as you have
Prompt: Take it
Story for: coffeethyme4me for the wcpairings challenge
Author: afiawri
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut
Warnings: Explicit Sex, D/s
Characters: Neal/Peter(/Elizabeth)
Summary: It seems whenever Neal makes a promise, he also makes a mistake.
Thanks: HUGE thanks to photoash. HUGE, HUGE, HUGE. She was my cheerleader, my idea-bouncer, my beta, my melt-down-resolver on this. When I say this story wouldn't have gotten finished without her, I mean exactly that.
Neal on his knees and chest, ass in the air and cheek smashed into the pillow, that was for Peter. Neal slicked up, his hands holding himself spread open, his cock teased to hardness, bound, and then let be. Neal practically vibrating with eagerness, waiting on Peter’s command. All that was for Peter.
His cock hanging in empty air underneath him with an occasional brush against his own skin, that was for Elizabeth. Elizabeth, who had to work today and wasn’t there to play with it, stroke it, torment it, see how little Neal could take or how much or how hard. Neal was choked in a heavy cock ring and aching, with no stimulation, no touch, nothing but the weight and constriction of the ring; Neal was tortured out of a now useless habit.
Peter had taken his sweet time stretching Neal’s hole, teasing it open so slowly it was like he was afraid of breaking it. Or trying to break Neal, trying to get him to shiver harder, sob louder, beg just a little despite a strictly enforced gag order.
Neal squeezed his eyes shut tighter, tighter until they stung at the corners, but he couldn’t shut out the persistent and maddeningly unpredictable thrumming in his cock. It twitched and leaked and fuck, when Elizabeth teased him, she always gave him a break when it was too much, or at least patted his shoulder and assured him, with a laugh in her voice, that she wouldn’t hurt him… too badly.
It wasn’t until Peter’s fingers slid along the cock ring, touching no skin, just pressing on the leather enough for Neal to feel the impression of his finger, enough to push Neal’s cock around - it wasn’t until then that Neal realized Peter hadn’t forgotten. He’d let Neal unthinkingly arrange himself like this because he wanted to have his fun. Neal’s hips jerked into the faintest brushes of stimulation, pathetically praying Peter would slip up, just a little, just brush his cock, his balls, his thigh with a nail, with a pinky. Anything, anything at all.
“Pull yourself open wider.” Neal obediently inched his fingers in towards more sensitive flesh and dug them in deep, showing off his hole and eagerness.
Peter tapped a rhythmic finger on the base of the butt plug. One of the bumps constantly pushed and rubbed, pushed and rubbed, against Neal's spot. It was like being taken hard and fast, but without Peter pressed up behind him, without the slap of balls on his ass. Without. Anything. Fucking him. Just the steady beat of fingertip on plug. Cruel relief, and Peter was capitalizing on it, driving Neal to the edge of sanity.
Peter crouched down on the side of the bed - his finger kept going, ceaseless, tireless - and looked into Neal's face. Neal clamped his lips closed around his whimpers and dragged in a deep breath, steadying himself with Peter's warm brown eyes until his painfully hard cock was a fact, not a frustration.
“You good?”
Neal settled and nodded, ready for anything. Almost floating. Vaguely, Neal pieced together that Peter had tipped him into subspace on purpose. He cocked an eyebrow at him in acknowledgment, and settled in. Peter wanted this to go smoothly. Neal could do smooth.
“Shhh,” Peter whispered, a reflex, but Neal was quiet and all the tension had gone from his body. His hole gave up the plug easily, opened around it so fast it mocked the half hour they'd taken working it in, the month working up to ever bigger, brighter, more ludicrous ass toys.
Cool air hit the thin coating of lube on his hole, on his rim, and chilled him from the inside out. Neal shivered with the chill, with the exhaustion, with the heat and stinging pain in his cock.
Peter gave his lube-soaked hole an approving pat. The impact reverberated through his hole,straight up his spine, wringing a whimper from Neal and a laugh a warm chuckle from Peter. Neal turned his head just that little bit more so he could see that smile through his hair.
Peter already had coated the green monster dildo in so much lube it was dripping on the floor. In the shop, it had been more novelty than real toy, but it was fuck-safe, and Peter’s eyes had glinted with want, so here it was, all fourteen inches of it trembling with Peter's anticipation. And it wasn't the length that had made Neal laugh when Peter suggested buying it: it was the impressive, fuck-defying girth. Peter pressed it against Neal's rim, traced it, pushed against it. He wasn't asking Neal's hole to take it, just putting pressure on him, finding all Neal’s sore spots.
The tip slipped in tiny swivels, pressing against his insides as it forced his hole to yield to it. It ached, it burned, but it stretched, millimeter by millimeter. Endlessly. Every time Neal was sure Peter was done, wouldn't go any farther, couldn’t go any farther, Peter twisted again and more kept coming. The widest part was still to come, still coming, fuck it got even wider.
It slid in. His hole clamped down on the shaft, closed around the cock head. Neal split in two right down the middle, held together just by Peter’s hand on his shaking ass cheek.
Neal centered himself on that; found his breath again, half listened-to Peter’s taunts about the things his greedy hole would gobble up, indiscriminate in its gluttony.
Precome streamed from his cock in unsteady beats. “So full,” he murmured, but it was lost in the pillow case.
Fingertips prodded Neal's rim. “You are going to ache tomorrow.” It wasn't an observation; it was a promise. Peter wiggled a finger inside.
Neal swallowed a shout. His hole didn’t remember how to repeat the stretch from moments before, had to be forced open all over again with every twist down to Peter’s first knuckle. Neal forced his thighs taunt, but they just shook worse, and he didn’t dare slide down the bed - didn’t dare breathe until Peter pushed his finger in far enough to tug at Neal’s rim, push air between his finger and his new toy.
The word built in his throat, begging to get out, but he could keep going, the pain couldn’t last, couldn’t get worse, he was okay, he was- “Yellow” - he needed a break.
Behind him, Peter froze, probably shocked. Neal had no strength to look.
After so long being good and quiet, Neal shouted as Peter ripped the finger from him in agonizing slowness, and then collapsed, with nearly a foot of ridiculous plastic jutting up from his ass. His cock, attuned to tiny twitches and drafts, brushed painfully against the rough sheets.
Peter crouched to Neal’s eye level and waited. Neal struggled to get his breath back. Peter wouldn’t continue until Neal explained, that was the rule. Peter’s rule.
“Too much.”
Peter stroked Neal’s hair from his eyes and waited on more. Neal struggled back to words, more than the six (Green, Yellow, Red, Peter, Elizabeth, FuckYesDon’tStop) that he always held onto.
“I can’t take that much. Yet. I… red. Red. Sorry. Sorry.” Neal leaned heavier into a pillow that obligingly rose up around his face. The fabric made it harder to wheeze, but he’d rather suffocate than pull up. He’d safeworded.
He’d safeworded and Peter wasn’t beating him, he wasn’t tied up. Elizabeth and Peter weren’t tag teaming him. Just a dildo and a finger - a dildo Peter had dreamed of shoving into him for weeks and weeks - and Neal had told him to pack it in, told Peter this he couldn’t do.
He should’ve left it at yellow. He was always crying yellow, every other time they fucked. But never, never red.
Peter shook his head. “No apologies, Neal. You can’t go past what’s physically possible. All I ask is that you try, and you did. Let’s get you some painkillers and then we’ll get that out.”
“Looks pretty ridiculous, doesn’t it?” Neal whispered.
The kiss was sweet, Peter’s words light, “You always look ridiculous. And beautiful. Particularly now.”
Two months later
Neal has a pillow under his hips and all through lubing him up and stretching and twisting warm up dildos in him, his cock rubs happily against it. Elizabeth still isn’t there - this is just theirs, their silly dildo and Neal’s sloppy, gaping hole that has to be ready this time.
They take it inch by excruciating inch with an hour and half a bottle of lube. Then Peter leans over Neal, presses his pecs to Neal’s sweaty back and asks, “How many inches are you going to take? How much of my giant dick can your tiny hole swallow?”
“As many as you have.”
Also posted at: http://afiawri.dreamwidth.org/29105.html
Prompt: Take it
Story for: coffeethyme4me for the wcpairings challenge
Author: afiawri
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut
Warnings: Explicit Sex, D/s
Characters: Neal/Peter(/Elizabeth)
Summary: It seems whenever Neal makes a promise, he also makes a mistake.
Thanks: HUGE thanks to photoash. HUGE, HUGE, HUGE. She was my cheerleader, my idea-bouncer, my beta, my melt-down-resolver on this. When I say this story wouldn't have gotten finished without her, I mean exactly that.
Neal on his knees and chest, ass in the air and cheek smashed into the pillow, that was for Peter. Neal slicked up, his hands holding himself spread open, his cock teased to hardness, bound, and then let be. Neal practically vibrating with eagerness, waiting on Peter’s command. All that was for Peter.
His cock hanging in empty air underneath him with an occasional brush against his own skin, that was for Elizabeth. Elizabeth, who had to work today and wasn’t there to play with it, stroke it, torment it, see how little Neal could take or how much or how hard. Neal was choked in a heavy cock ring and aching, with no stimulation, no touch, nothing but the weight and constriction of the ring; Neal was tortured out of a now useless habit.
Peter had taken his sweet time stretching Neal’s hole, teasing it open so slowly it was like he was afraid of breaking it. Or trying to break Neal, trying to get him to shiver harder, sob louder, beg just a little despite a strictly enforced gag order.
Neal squeezed his eyes shut tighter, tighter until they stung at the corners, but he couldn’t shut out the persistent and maddeningly unpredictable thrumming in his cock. It twitched and leaked and fuck, when Elizabeth teased him, she always gave him a break when it was too much, or at least patted his shoulder and assured him, with a laugh in her voice, that she wouldn’t hurt him… too badly.
It wasn’t until Peter’s fingers slid along the cock ring, touching no skin, just pressing on the leather enough for Neal to feel the impression of his finger, enough to push Neal’s cock around - it wasn’t until then that Neal realized Peter hadn’t forgotten. He’d let Neal unthinkingly arrange himself like this because he wanted to have his fun. Neal’s hips jerked into the faintest brushes of stimulation, pathetically praying Peter would slip up, just a little, just brush his cock, his balls, his thigh with a nail, with a pinky. Anything, anything at all.
“Pull yourself open wider.” Neal obediently inched his fingers in towards more sensitive flesh and dug them in deep, showing off his hole and eagerness.
Peter tapped a rhythmic finger on the base of the butt plug. One of the bumps constantly pushed and rubbed, pushed and rubbed, against Neal's spot. It was like being taken hard and fast, but without Peter pressed up behind him, without the slap of balls on his ass. Without. Anything. Fucking him. Just the steady beat of fingertip on plug. Cruel relief, and Peter was capitalizing on it, driving Neal to the edge of sanity.
Peter crouched down on the side of the bed - his finger kept going, ceaseless, tireless - and looked into Neal's face. Neal clamped his lips closed around his whimpers and dragged in a deep breath, steadying himself with Peter's warm brown eyes until his painfully hard cock was a fact, not a frustration.
“You good?”
Neal settled and nodded, ready for anything. Almost floating. Vaguely, Neal pieced together that Peter had tipped him into subspace on purpose. He cocked an eyebrow at him in acknowledgment, and settled in. Peter wanted this to go smoothly. Neal could do smooth.
“Shhh,” Peter whispered, a reflex, but Neal was quiet and all the tension had gone from his body. His hole gave up the plug easily, opened around it so fast it mocked the half hour they'd taken working it in, the month working up to ever bigger, brighter, more ludicrous ass toys.
Cool air hit the thin coating of lube on his hole, on his rim, and chilled him from the inside out. Neal shivered with the chill, with the exhaustion, with the heat and stinging pain in his cock.
Peter gave his lube-soaked hole an approving pat. The impact reverberated through his hole,straight up his spine, wringing a whimper from Neal and a laugh a warm chuckle from Peter. Neal turned his head just that little bit more so he could see that smile through his hair.
Peter already had coated the green monster dildo in so much lube it was dripping on the floor. In the shop, it had been more novelty than real toy, but it was fuck-safe, and Peter’s eyes had glinted with want, so here it was, all fourteen inches of it trembling with Peter's anticipation. And it wasn't the length that had made Neal laugh when Peter suggested buying it: it was the impressive, fuck-defying girth. Peter pressed it against Neal's rim, traced it, pushed against it. He wasn't asking Neal's hole to take it, just putting pressure on him, finding all Neal’s sore spots.
The tip slipped in tiny swivels, pressing against his insides as it forced his hole to yield to it. It ached, it burned, but it stretched, millimeter by millimeter. Endlessly. Every time Neal was sure Peter was done, wouldn't go any farther, couldn’t go any farther, Peter twisted again and more kept coming. The widest part was still to come, still coming, fuck it got even wider.
It slid in. His hole clamped down on the shaft, closed around the cock head. Neal split in two right down the middle, held together just by Peter’s hand on his shaking ass cheek.
Neal centered himself on that; found his breath again, half listened-to Peter’s taunts about the things his greedy hole would gobble up, indiscriminate in its gluttony.
Precome streamed from his cock in unsteady beats. “So full,” he murmured, but it was lost in the pillow case.
Fingertips prodded Neal's rim. “You are going to ache tomorrow.” It wasn't an observation; it was a promise. Peter wiggled a finger inside.
Neal swallowed a shout. His hole didn’t remember how to repeat the stretch from moments before, had to be forced open all over again with every twist down to Peter’s first knuckle. Neal forced his thighs taunt, but they just shook worse, and he didn’t dare slide down the bed - didn’t dare breathe until Peter pushed his finger in far enough to tug at Neal’s rim, push air between his finger and his new toy.
The word built in his throat, begging to get out, but he could keep going, the pain couldn’t last, couldn’t get worse, he was okay, he was- “Yellow” - he needed a break.
Behind him, Peter froze, probably shocked. Neal had no strength to look.
After so long being good and quiet, Neal shouted as Peter ripped the finger from him in agonizing slowness, and then collapsed, with nearly a foot of ridiculous plastic jutting up from his ass. His cock, attuned to tiny twitches and drafts, brushed painfully against the rough sheets.
Peter crouched to Neal’s eye level and waited. Neal struggled to get his breath back. Peter wouldn’t continue until Neal explained, that was the rule. Peter’s rule.
“Too much.”
Peter stroked Neal’s hair from his eyes and waited on more. Neal struggled back to words, more than the six (Green, Yellow, Red, Peter, Elizabeth, FuckYesDon’tStop) that he always held onto.
“I can’t take that much. Yet. I… red. Red. Sorry. Sorry.” Neal leaned heavier into a pillow that obligingly rose up around his face. The fabric made it harder to wheeze, but he’d rather suffocate than pull up. He’d safeworded.
He’d safeworded and Peter wasn’t beating him, he wasn’t tied up. Elizabeth and Peter weren’t tag teaming him. Just a dildo and a finger - a dildo Peter had dreamed of shoving into him for weeks and weeks - and Neal had told him to pack it in, told Peter this he couldn’t do.
He should’ve left it at yellow. He was always crying yellow, every other time they fucked. But never, never red.
Peter shook his head. “No apologies, Neal. You can’t go past what’s physically possible. All I ask is that you try, and you did. Let’s get you some painkillers and then we’ll get that out.”
“Looks pretty ridiculous, doesn’t it?” Neal whispered.
The kiss was sweet, Peter’s words light, “You always look ridiculous. And beautiful. Particularly now.”
Two months later
Neal has a pillow under his hips and all through lubing him up and stretching and twisting warm up dildos in him, his cock rubs happily against it. Elizabeth still isn’t there - this is just theirs, their silly dildo and Neal’s sloppy, gaping hole that has to be ready this time.
They take it inch by excruciating inch with an hour and half a bottle of lube. Then Peter leans over Neal, presses his pecs to Neal’s sweaty back and asks, “How many inches are you going to take? How much of my giant dick can your tiny hole swallow?”
“As many as you have.”
Also posted at: http://afiawri.dreamwidth.org/29105.html