FIC: Trapped (White Collar, FRAO)
Title: Trapped
Author: hawk_soaring
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Peter/ Neal/ El
Written for: For sinfulslasher WC: Peter gets tired of Neal's sneaky little fingers and decides to punish him accordingly...by making him wear this: http://www.stockroom.com/Sex-and-Metal-Hand-Trap--P4623.aspx What happens next is up to you. Can be strictly D/s handler/con without sex, can be established P/N or P/E/N. Love the idea of Neal helpless for a weekend and dependent on Peter's (and/or El's) help for pretty much anything, be it eating or showering or...other stuff... *waggles eyebrows*
A/N: Beta’d by the wonderful annieb1955.
~!~
Neal smirked as he adjusted his fedora, making sure it was at just the right jaunty angle. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers and whistled a happy little tune as he headed down the street. Yeah, his tailor would kill him for ruining the line of his suit, but he couldn’t keep his hands out of his pockets today.
It had been pretty easy - but wasn’t it always? And the best part? No one had noticed when he’d palmed the ancient coins. One for each pocket. He grinned and nodded at a lovely young lady in bright red heels as he rounded the street corner, heading for home.
Not that he’d been spending much time there lately. Since he’d become involved with Peter and El (and even thinking that made him grin) he’d been staying at the house a lot of the time. Turned out, Peter was even more masterful at home than he was in the office - and Neal did like to be mastered to a degree. Between Peter and El, he was getting spoiled.
So why had he felt the urge to steal the coins from the crime scene if he was so damn happy?
Neal couldn’t answer his own question and he frowned as his fingers nimbly danced over the coins in his pockets. But then he was bursting through the front door and all thoughts of why fled before his thoughts of where to hide them. After all, he couldn’t just leave the coins laying about his apartment what with Peter dropping by whenever he felt like it and with June popping in for a cup of tea - or Mozzie dropping round with his latest scheme. Especially not with Moz around. He would fence the coins quicker than Neal could dream up a plausible answer as to where he’d gotten them - and then they’d be lost to him forever and stealing them would have been quite pointless.
“Neal! I -”
Neal waved in June’s direction and kept going. “Gotta do something, June,” he called over his shoulder, sorry to have been rude, but feeling as if time was running out for him to get the coins secreted away. His fingers were shaking as he slipped the key into the lock on his door and then he was inside, closing the door quietly behind himself and turning the lock as he let out a shaky sigh and rested his head against the smooth wood. He’d made it.
A whisper of sound made him tense and he raised his hands to push away from the door only to have a heavy weight push against his back, holding him in place. Sure, he could have fought, but the growled “don’t even think about it” stilled him quicker than even a gun pointed at his face would have.
He knew the man behind him wasn’t armed but fighting back was out of the question if he didn’t want to lose everything he’d gained over the past few months. Instead he took a breath and did what he did best. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, Agent Burke?” He gave his ass a little wiggle to emphasize his point.
Peter, for his part, pulled back, leaving Neal feeling more than a little foolish as he turned around and leaned back against the door. Out of habit, he slipped his hands into his pockets. The coins felt like betrayal against his fingers now and he pulled his hands out quickly, stifling the urge to wipe them on his trousers - but only just.
Peter stood in front of Neal - almost close enough to touch, if he dared. His arms were crossed over his chest and he had that patent Burke scowl on his face. Usually, as in when it was directed toward someone else; Neal thought the scowl was sexy. But now, when it was directed his way and coupled with Peter’s obvious disappointment in him, Neal only felt a little ill. He licked his lips and then nibbled the lower one, waiting Peter out.
After anther minute of watching Peter watch him, Neal took a breath and tried on a smile. “So, what brings you here, Peter?” he asked, tilting his head to one side as if contemplating the situation. “A little slap and tickle behind El’s back?” He tsked softly as he shook his head. “Do you realize how upset she would be that she missed it?”
Peter took a breath and let it out slowly, the only indication as to just how angry he really was. For anyone who didn’t know the man they would think he was patiently waiting for Neal to break down and confess - but Neal knew better, as did Peter. Neal didn’t do the whole confession thing. This was pure anger, the white hot kind that could blind you if it was unleashed at full force. This anger was also coupled with the disappointment that Neal had sensed before - and he knew he’d overstepped the boundaries set forth in their fledgling relationship. Hell, he’d overstepped so far that there was a chance Peter would give up on him and not only let the FBI arrest him, but write the warrant himself.
Neal swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and wondered if it was fear of getting caught (which he thought was probably a given about now) or fear of losing Peter and El. And then he realized it was the latter and it almost brought him to his knees, literally. His hands clutched at the door behind him as he felt his knees weaken and his gut churn.
And then Peter was there, right in his personal space, pulling him into his arms and holding onto him as Neal thought he’d shatter apart. His fingers scrabbled at the cloth of Peter’s jacket and he felt like he’d just been pulled from a raging river, barely able to catch his breath as he recovered from the near drowning.
“Why’d you do it?” Peter asked after he’d sat Neal at the table and gotten him a glass of water from the kitchen.
“Do what?” Neal tossed back automatically.
“Neal,” Peter drawled warningly and Neal ducked his head, staring down into his glass, unable to meet Peter’s gaze across the table. “Look at me.”
Neal reluctantly raised his gaze. He never could resist that tone of voice; naked or clothed, it seemed. His hands he kept wrapped around his glass, more to give them something to keep them still than because he wanted another drink. That and he knew he’d be reaching for his pockets as soon as he let loose and he liked the weight of the coins laying against his thighs - even if he knew he wouldn’t be keeping them now. He opened his mouth but found he had nothing to say and shut it again. Now he found he needed a drink and he didn’t think water would cut it.
“Why did you do it?” Peter repeated as he leaned his elbows on the table and stared into Neal’s eyes.
And Neal found that he couldn’t really answer that question because he didn’t know why he’d taken the coins. Because that’s what he did didn’t seem like a good enough answer when he ran it through his head and he figured it would sound even worse if it were to ever see the light of day. He opened his mouth to repeat his previous answer and Peter raised an eyebrow, effectively silencing him. Neal sighed softly as he stared down into his glass of water. What could he possibly say to fix this mess? He’d done it. He’d stolen the coins from the crime scene because it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
“Neal?”
Neal looked up and nearly flinched at the raw hurt in Peter’s eyes and Neal knew that his light-fingered ways would be the ruin of him one day. He bit the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know,” he said softly, his voice breaking on the last word. “I don’t know, Peter.”
Peter stood and held out his hand. Neal looked at it quizzically and then looked up at Peter. “The coins,” Peter said seriously.
Neal nodded and pushed away from the table. He put his hands into his pockets and pulled the coins out; fisting them in his hands once last time before dropping them onto Peter’s outstretched hand. He couldn’t look at them again and let Peter take them so he turned away and walked over to one of the large windows, stuffing his hands back into his now empty pockets and leaning one shoulder against the wall as he stared out into the deepening gloom of the impending dusk. Neal heard Peter move toward the door and knew he was leaving - and leaving Neal to fend for himself. He just wondered how much time he had before the FBI showed up to arrest him again.
“Make sure you’re home by seven sharp,” Peter said as he pulled the door open. “El doesn’t like it when dinner gets cold.”
Neal spun around, his mouth open in surprise. But the door was already closed.
*!*
Neal fretted over his appearance. He had pulled off some pretty wild heists and cons in his time and yet a simple command to dinner had him flummoxed and off his game. Deciding that discretion was indeed the better part of valor, Neal decided to be as perfect for his adoptive family as he possibly could be - and that included taking Peter’s overly dominating personality into account.
Fretting that two and a half hours wasn’t nearly enough time to get everything done, Neal headed for the bathroom, stripping off his expensive suit as he went. He cursed the lack of time as he wasted two precious minutes hanging the suit up in his closet. At this rate, not only would he be late to the Burke’s house, but he’d give himself an ulcer as well.
The shower was hot and Neal used the steam to his advantage, washing and scrubbing the day’s grime away and then shaving - everywhere. Peter liked smooth skin and Neal had gotten used to it. It itched like a bastard when the hair started growing in though so it was much easier just to keep it shaved bare all the time. And Neal always hoped for an invitation to spend a night, or a few nights - or a weekend. He had also hoped to take things further and make their loose arrangement more permanent but he had the feeling that he’d ruined his chances today even if Peter had invited him to dinner. Maybe he just wanted El present when he sent him away for good.
Neal didn’t have time to worry about Peter’s reasons for summoning him to dinner so he pushed the thought away and concentrated on his grooming. Showered, shaved, clipped, and lotioned, Neal headed for his closet to pick out something to wear. As he rifled through his closet he realized that a suit just wouldn’t do. He needed something that would show Peter that he wasn’t hiding behind a façade - that he really was interested in mending fences and furthering their relationship. He needed to be vulnerable, not protected. He wanted to look sexy, but not slutty. And he wanted to show Peter and El that he wanted to be with them. Open and approachable: how the hell did one dress for that?
After trying on and discarding outfit after outfit, Neal settled on a nicely broken in pair of slightly faded but not threadbare blue jeans and a charcoal turtleneck. He topped the outfit with a black leather bomber jacket and headed out. If he managed to catch a cab on his first try and if the traffic lights were in their favor he might just make it to Peter and El’s house with a couple of minutes to spare.
*!*
El opened the door almost before he rang it and Neal knew she had been watching for him. He smiled nervously as he stepped into the house. El hugged him quickly and then held her hand out for his jacket - all without saying a word. Neal thought it mighty strange until he noticed the slim black band that encircled El’s throat. Peter must have collared her when he got home, which left Neal feeling even worse than before, if that was possible. As if sensing his discomfort, El patted Neal’s hand and then led him to where Peter sat watching them.
Neal shuffled his feet a little before settling into a loose stance in front of the coffee table. He watched Peter look at him until Peter’s piercing stare became too much to bear and he had to look away. He heard El snort softly and she patted his arm as she moved away toward the kitchen. He watched her walk away for a moment, only then realizing that the diaphanous gown she wore covered bare skin. Her bare feet peeked out from under the hem as well and Neal took a breath.
That was what he wanted. No, not the dress: the ownership. It was as plain as day for anyone who cared to look and it made him ache for something he now knew he would never have. Peter cleared his throat softly and Neal realized that his thoughts had wandered to what was now forbidden fruit and he turned back to face the music.
Peter’s gaze raked him from head to toe and Neal had all he could do to not squirm under the scrutiny. Instead, he simply raised his chin a fraction of an inch and stared at a spot just to the left of Peter’s head.
“That won’t work, you know.”
Peter’s soft words startled him, although to be honest, he hadn’t really expected to fool the man. He also didn’t rise to the bait.
“Look at me, Neal.”
Neal was nothing if not stubborn - and he couldn’t quite summon up the nerve to watch Peter as he ripped him from their lives.
“Look at me or go home.”
Home: he wanted to be home. But he wanted to be home here and he could feel the emotions rise up inside of him as he realized that wasn’t what he was going to have. Taking a breath, he moved his gaze just enough to look into Peter’s eyes, frowning for a moment as he searched for the censure he was sure he would find there - and didn’t.
“Good boy,” Peter said, and Neal felt a little frisson of lust roll up his spine at those words and he fought back a shiver that would give him away. But some little clue must have shown on his face or in his stance because Peter smiled then and Neal had to lock his knees to keep from falling to the floor at Peter’s feet and begging to be given just one more chance.
“You know I’m disappointed in you, don’t you?” Peter asked and Neal blinked in surprise.
“Yes, sir,” Neal answered when he could find his voice again; using the honorific in hopes he hadn’t quelled all chances of continuing his relationship with Peter and El.
Peter’s lips quirked slightly and Neal hoped he was simply holding back a smile at his answer. “And do you understand that there must be some form of punishment if things are to continue between the three of us?”
Neal nodded and answered in the affirmative again. This time he shifted his stance a little so he wouldn’t fidget and give away just how nervous he really was. As soon as he moved however, Peter lifted an eyebrow and Neal knew his charade was for naught. Peter already knew just how much this was affecting him - and yet he was still playing with him. Neal took a breath to steady his temper and continued to watch Peter.
“Strip.”
Neal gaped. “What?” he managed.
Peter repeated the order, his firm tone of voice making Neal realize he wasn’t kidding.
Neal stared at Peter for a moment before looking over his shoulder, searching out where El was.
“She can’t help with this,” Peter said evenly. “This is your decision to make.” Peter reached out and took a long drink from the bottle of beer sitting in front of him. “And we don’t have all night.”
Neal didn’t have to think about it any longer. If this was what it took to get back in Peter’s good graces, then having to eat dinner in his birthday suit wasn’t going to stop him. He pulled his sweater over his head quickly and, as he looked around for a place to lay it, Peter pointed to the chair to Neal’s left. As he reached out to drop the sweater on the chair, Peter said, “Neatly.” One word and Neal folded the sweater neatly before setting it on the chair. He bent over and unzipped his ankle-high boots before toeing them off and placing them neatly under the chair. Watching Peter out of the corner of his eye, Neal unbuttoned and unzipped and then pushed his jeans down over his hips. He swallowed his nerves as he folded his pants and placed them on the chair before using the chair cushion for support as he pulled off first one sock and then the other, stuffing them down into his boots.
He was dressed in just his boxer briefs as he turned to Peter again. Peter simply folded his arms over his chest and nodded once. Yeah, he had meant all of it. Neal mentally shrugged as he pushed his underwear down over his hips and off. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been naked in the Burke’s house. But it was the first time he’d been naked and everyone else had been clothed - and looked to stay that way, at least for a while. Neal placed his underwear on the pile of his clothing and then turned around with an aborted flourish as he saw Peter’s face and decided not to risk any clownish behavior.
Peter picked up a throw pillow and dropped it on the floor beside the sofa. Neal watched it fall and then looked at Peter who merely cocked his head. Getting the picture quickly, Neal dropped to his knees at Peter’s side. It was then relatively easy to fall into the proper posture; back straight, knees slightly apart, arms behind his back, and his chin lowered submissively.
“Well, that’s pretty,” Peter drawled, “but I want you to look at me. We have some things to discuss.”
Neal looked up at Peter just as he nodded. He was looking past Neal so Neal turned to see what was capturing his attention. El had picked up his clothing and was walking toward the stairs. Neal opened his mouth to question where his things were being taken when Peter grasped his chin and turned his head so he was looking at Peter once again.
“You don’t need to pay attention to anyone but me tonight,” Peter growled.
“Yes, sir,” Neal breathed. If Peter wanted to play the dominant, who was he to complain? Although, if he was honest with himself, Peter didn’t seem to be playing at dominance - not tonight.
“And now for the matter of your punishment,” Peter said as he looked into Neal’s eyes. “What will you give me?” he murmured, probably more to himself than to Neal.
But Neal couldn’t help but answer, caught up in Peter’s spell as he was. “Everything.”
Peter smiled at that and Neal found himself blushing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, but Peter seemed quite fond of making him do so. Peter suggested a spanking to start, patting his lap and telling Neal to assume the position. It wasn’t Neal’s kink, but then this wasn’t for play, it was for keeps, so he crawled over Peter’s lap and got into position. Peter held Neal’s wrists at the small of his back and then, with no warning, began to rain down sharp slaps onto Neal’s unprotected backside. Each slap felt harder than the last and Neal gasped as the pain built into a crescendo of feeling. Peter was good at this and there wasn’t an inch of flesh on his bottom and the tops of his thighs that wasn’t attended to by Peter’s strong hand. It wasn’t a spanking designed for play, but one of punishment and Neal felt every stroke to his core as Peter conveyed his displeasure.
Neal wasn’t quite sure when Peter stopped spanking him. He only noticed it had stopped when Peter helped him kneel on the cushion again. Neal hissed as his bottom hit his heels and straightened up onto his knees to alleviate the ache. Peter’s hand must have been killing him if his ass was anything to go by.
“Do you have anything to say?”
“Sorry, sir,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“And what will you do the next time you’re presented with such temptation?”
Neal looked up at Peter, dumbfounded. What answer was Peter looking for? Stealing was what he did - who he was!
Peter smirked. “That didn’t teach you your lesson, did it?” he commented. “I really didn’t think it would,” he continued, “which is why I bought a little something on my way home this afternoon.”
Neal watched as Peter pulled a slender box out from under the edge of the sofa and laid it on the coffee table. It looked to be covered in black velvet and Neal wondered what could possibly be in the box that would “teach him a lesson”. And then Peter opened the box and Neal caught a glimpse of polished steel. He stretched forward just a little in order to see into the box better but his new vantage point didn’t help matters as he really didn’t know what it was he was looking at.
Whatever it was, the workmanship was beautiful. There was what looked like two heavy metal cuffs and attached to them was a tree of iron with a ring on each end - four in total. What it was and how it worked was beyond him - but he was pretty sure Peter was going to show him. He was also pretty sure if Peter deemed it a punishment, he wasn’t going to like it, no matter how pretty it was.
While Neal was staring at the pretty pieces of brushed steel, El had come back into the room. It was only when Peter told him to put his hands on the table that Neal noticed her presence. As he hesitated, El knelt at his side and gently took his hands in hers and placed them on the coffee table, pressing them gently and holding her hands on top of his. Neal looked at her and she smiled.
El was beautiful when she smiled and Neal allowed himself to be distracted while Peter manipulated one of his hands and El held onto the other. It was only when he felt a slight pressure between the first and second knuckle of his index finger that he looked back to what Peter was doing. As he watched, Peter finished tightening the wingnut screws on the remaining rings. It was only when the last one was tightened that Neal realized what it was that he was looking at. It was a hand and wrist restraint - and a pretty devious one at that.
The steel cuff was fastened around his wrist and then the steel “tree” ran under his palm. Each ring on the tree branch held a finger completely immobile. He tugged on the hand that El was holding, wanting to get the contraption off his hand - but El held on tightly. She couldn’t possibly think she could really hold him, but he also didn’t want to hurt her.
Peter took the choice away from him when he told him to settle. “This isn’t coming off, Neal.”
Neal blinked at Peter in surprise, a little too shocked by what Peter had said and by the implications to put up a struggle when Peter started putting the matching restraint on his other hand. It wasn’t until Peter tightened the wrist cuff that Neal thought to pull his hand away.
Peter held on, tightening his grip on Neal’s wrist. “Neal,” he said warningly. “I don’t think you want to do that.”
Neal stared at him. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to wear the hand restraints either.
“You agreed that what you did was wrong.”
Neal nodded slowly.
“And you know that you need to be punished.”
Neal thought about it. He knew Peter thought he needed to be punished but he wasn’t too sure he wanted to be punished.
Peter smiled. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to be punished,” Peter said as if he could read Neal’s thoughts. “I said you needed it.”
Neal bit his lip as he stopped fighting Peter. He couldn’t help the tremors that ran through his muscles though as he watched his hands being put into restraints designed to take away his dexterity. His hands were his livelihood. He was a tactile guy and the prospect of not being able to use his hands, even for just a little while, terrified him.
“Finished,” Peter said as he sat back on the sofa.
Neal looked down at his hands, which were splayed on the table in front of him. He lifted his hands and turned them over and back again, looking at the restraints - and looking for a way out of them. They looked pretty escape-proof and a tendril of fear ran up his spine, making him shiver. “Peter,” he breathed, “please. You don’t have to do this.”
El put her hand on his arm and Peter cupped his face in a warm palm. “They stay,” Peter said. “You wronged us all by your actions this morning, Neal. This will serve to remind you that your actions have consequences.”
Neal stared at his bound hands in horror. “H -,” he licked his lips and tried again. “How long?”
Peter stared at him for a few long seconds and then blew out a breath. “As long as it takes,” he said.
El patted Neal’s shoulder and then turned to face Peter, placed her fingers lightly on her lips, and then bowed her head.
“What is it, honey?” Peter asked, his voice taking on that loving tone that Neal associated with Peter and El’s relationship.
El looked up, smiling at Peter. “Dinner’s ready,” she said quietly.
Peter nodded and got to his feet. “Come on, Neal,” he said over his shoulder as he began walking toward the dining room.
Neal got to his feet slowly. His wrists didn’t bend at all so his hands were of no use to him and it took him a few seconds to get his feet under him. If it was dinner time Peter would have to remove the wrist restraints - and once they were off, Neal figured he could come up with some kind of distraction to keep them off. He pasted a smile on his face and followed Peter into the dining room.
El tossed a throw pillow on the floor between her chair and Peter’s and Neal knew he was basically screwed even before Peter told him to kneel. Not wanting to mess everything up and get kicked out, Neal knelt, biting back a frustrated sigh.
Dinner wasn’t the ordeal he had imagined and Neal found he quite liked to be hand-fed. If Peter wasn’t feeding him a forkful of pasta, El was giving him sips of wine or a bite of garlic bread. The conversation wasn’t exactly scintillating, but then Peter liked the quiet after a stressful day and Neal figured today must have fit that bill nicely what with the stunt he had pulled.
Neal turned his head at the next proffered bite of food and Peter set his fork on his plate. “You okay, Neal?” Peter asked.
Neal nodded and then shrugged. He wasn’t fine exactly but he knew his current predicament was directly the result of his lack of impulse control. Humiliated? Absolutely, but it was ultimately a humiliation of his own making. How could he have put all of this in jeopardy just for the thrill of snatching two ancient coins? It wasn’t like he could ever have fenced them. They were priceless - and would be too hot to ever get rid of.
“Can I ask a question?” Neal asked after a minute.
Peter looked at him, seeming to size him up, and then nodded.
“What did you do with them?”
Peter’s eyes narrowed and he snorted. “Coffee in the living room, El,” Peter said as he got to his feet and walked away from Neal, leaving him kneeling alone beside the table.
Neal was sure he was in serious trouble now. It was stupid to have asked about the coins. He bowed his head, staring down at his hands. His wrists were immobilized, he could barely bend the first knuckle on any of his fingers, and his thumbs were greatly hampered by the lack of mobility in his other digits. Without the use of his hands he felt powerless, vulnerable. It wasn’t anything he was used to and he hated it.
El walked past him a few minutes later, carrying a tray. Neal could smell the coffee on it and he sighed softly. He hadn’t been invited back into the living room and, considering his stupidity in asking after the stolen coins, he expected Peter to either leave him in the dining room all evening or just cut him loose. Neal shifted on the cushion. His knees hurt, but his ass hurt more and there was no way he was sitting back on his heels when Peter had done such a thorough job on his punishment.
A soft hand on his shoulder startled him and he looked up to see El smiling down at him. She beckoned and he got to his feet, following her into the living room. He knelt on the cushion beside the sofa again and was surprised to see a mug of cooling coffee - with a bendy straw in it. Grinning, Neal took a sip of the coffee and found it to be the perfect temperature for sipping.
“Thank you,” he said softly, unsure to whom he should direct the comment. Had it been Peter or El who had thought to get coffee for him?
Peter coughed softly and when Neal looked up, Peter was winking - at El. So it was her idea. Neal sobered quickly. Peter was probably still pissed at him then. He bit his lip and glanced at Peter out of the corner of his eye. Peter seemed to be enjoying his coffee - and Neal wondered if he should just drink his since Peter hadn’t taken it away from him. A soft hand on his shoulder surprised him and he looked at El who merely smiled and nodded before picking up her own cup of coffee. Oh, why the hell not? He couldn’t get in any more trouble than he was already in.
Having decided to enjoy his coffee, Neal began to relax a little. His hands ached a little from the unnatural stretch but it wasn’t as if it was painful - just something that was in the back of his mind. What was the most difficult was the realization that his hands were pretty much useless. Every time he reached - or thought about reaching - for something, the weight of the metal hand restraints reminded him of his inability to do much of anything for himself.
His bladder made itself known a little while later and, as Peter and El had settled in to watch some television curled up on the sofa together, Neal simply tried not to fidget and call attention to his problem. A few minutes later Neal felt strong fingers begin to card through his hair and he sighed softly, relaxing his posture slightly and within minutes he was leaning against Peter’s legs. But relaxing had an unexpected side effect in that he really needed to use the bathroom - now.
Neal shifted again, biting his lip to keep back a whimper of distress and then sighed softly as he tried not to think about his body’s needs.
“Are you going to ask me to use the bathroom - or are you simply trying to will your bodily functions to go on hiatus until you figure out how to hold your dick with your hands bound?” Peter drawled from just behind Neal.
Startled, Neal jumped, wincing when Peter’s fingers tightened in his hair and tipped his head back until he was staring up into Peter’s eyes.
“Well?”
Neal mentally sighed. “Yes, sir,” he said quickly. “I need to use the bathroom - please.”
El sat up, moving aside so Peter could get to his feet. Neal stood, momentarily unsteady on his feet. Once he attained his balance, he held his hands up to Peter - sure he would take the restraints off now. But Peter merely snorted in amusement and motioned him to get moving.
Neal’s eyes opened wide. “But -”
Peter grinned. “But what, Neal?” he said, pressing into Neal’s personal space. “You don’t think that a little thing like having to use the toilet is going to get you out of your punishment, do you?”
Neal stared at Peter as he tried to process what the man had just said - and what he meant. He could feel the heat build in his face as he turn and preceded Peter up the stairs toward the master bathroom. After all, the downstairs bath was simply too small for two.
He tried again as they reached the door to the bathroom. “I really can do this on my own,” he said with a forced smile. “Just -” Neal lifted his hands again and Peter crossed his arms across his chest as he stared at Neal.
“Is that what you want?” Peter asked; his voice quiet and devoid of any clues Neal could use to decipher his hidden meaning.
“Well, my hands are starting to ache a little and I have to pee so -”
“You want this all to be over, Neal? Because I can make it happen - and, on Monday I can sign you over to another handler for the remainder of your time with the FBI.”
Neal had been looking at his hands again as he held them, palm up, toward Peter. As Peter’s words sank in, however, he looked up at Peter and blinked in surprise. “Sign my - what?” he stammered. This wasn’t what he’d meant at all but, apparently Peter thought he was rejecting him and El and all that went along with it. He opened his mouth to protest and realized just what Peter had offered here - and how he had truly broken Peter’s trust by stealing the coins. Peter had put everything on the line for him: his career, his family. And Neal had tossed it all back in his face when he’d pocketed the priceless coins. Tonight had been another gamble: Peter and El had given him a second chance at staying with them - at belonging - and he had just about tossed that back in their laps as well. How stupid could he possibly be?
Peter was reaching into his pocket, presumably to get the little allen wrench needed to open the cuffs and Neal put his hands behind his back, hiding them from Peter. “Please, don’t,” he said softly. “Pe - Sir, I don’t want to be let out of the cuffs.”
Peter’s hand stilled and he stared at Neal for a long moment before nodding once. “I presume you still need to use the bathroom?”
Neal blushed again and nodded. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled as he tried not to fidget.
“Then let’s get moving,” Peter said, his tone all business now that Neal’s surrender was complete.
Neal stood in front of the toilet, his humiliation complete. “Sir, I -” He took a breath. “I don’t know how to do this.”
He felt Peter at his back and closed his eyes as tears formed. He would not cry, damn it. Not over something this insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He would not. And then Peter’s trousers brushed up against the backs of his naked thighs and Neal’s breath caught in his throat at the sheer eroticism of it. He’d always had a thing for power shifts: him naked and his lover clothed - or vice versa. But this was somehow more intense. Maybe it was because he felt so helpless with his hands in the restraints but it was really messing with his head. Peter’s breath on his neck as he reached around him made him shudder.
“Please,” he breathed as Peter’s hand closed around his dick, aiming it toward the toilet. He was hard and there was no way he was pissing through a dick hard enough to pound nails with.
“Got a problem?” Peter asked and Neal could hear the smirk in his voice.
Neal moaned. “Please.” There were no other words. Nothing else but the aching need that was building as he felt Peter’s hand begin to move, jacking him slowly toward distraction as the pressure built in his balls and pain twinged in his abdomen from his over-full bladder.
Peter tweaked a nipple, rolling it between his fingers, as he tugged on his dick. Neal was held in place, his whole body a network of sensation that zinged between his nipples and his balls. At some point he’d let his head fall back onto Peter’s shoulder and now Peter was murmuring directly into his ear, the low voice sending another zing of pleasure through him.
“C’mon, Neal,” Peter growled. “Come for me.”
And to Neal’s shock, that was all it took to send him spiraling over the edge. Peter’s hand slipped upward to wrap around Neal’s throat even as his other milked Neal’s orgasm from his sensitive dick and Neal moaned at the overt sign of ownership. Peter chuckled softly as he used his hand to turn Neal’s head - and then he kissed him. One hand was still wrapped around Neal’s sensitive cock and the other around his throat and Neal thought it was the most loved he’d ever felt in his life.
“You back with me?” Peter asked against his lips and Neal nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Peter placed a light peck against his lips again and Neal could feel the smile. “Then piss for me so we can go back downstairs. El is going to wonder what we got up to without her.”
Neal snorted softly and tried to relax enough to piss. Peter gave him a moment and then moved his hand from around Neal’s throat and pressed on his abdomen - just enough to get Neal’s flow started. Neal sighed as his bladder emptied. It felt heavenly but his stubbornness from before left his abdomen feeling a little achy. He knew it would pass and it served him right for not trusting Peter to take care of him properly. But that was past - and Neal couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of the weekend would go. After all, it didn’t look like Peter was willing to let him off easy with the punishment - but if that meant that Peter and El would take care of him, he was okay with it.
A light slap to his ass caught his attention and he hissed even as he tried to rub the sting away. The metal restraints felt weird against the skin of his ass and he felt his cock try to twitch. He rolled his eyes, not really surprised by his body’s response to the restraints. Truth be told, it made him feel cherished and he really liked that - especially since it didn’t happen often.
Peter stopped him in the hall and Neal looked up quickly. “How are the hands?” Peter asked as he lifted Neal’s hands and ran his fingers over Neal’s own. “And don’t bullshit me. I want an honest answer.”
Neal bit his lip. He knew that, if he told Peter he was in pain, the restraints would be gone. He also knew that Peter would know if he lied to him. He shrugged a little and licked his lips. “My hands ache a little from the stretch but they’re okay. The circulation is fine.”
Peter smiled, obviously happy that Neal had told him the truth. He nodded. “Good. Let’s get downstairs then, shall we?” Peter took hold of Neal’s arm and Neal raised an eyebrow. Peter smiled. “It’s my responsibility to take care of you and you can’t hold onto or grab the banister if you start to fall. So I’m going to hold on and you’re not going to say anything wise about it. Got it?”
Neal grinned. “Got it.” They started down the stairs. “Does this mean I get to sleep in your bed tonight?” he asked about halfway down. “’Cause I won’t be able to pull my own covers up if I get cold.”
Peter’s steps faltered for only a second. “We’ll have to talk to El about that but I don’t see why not.”
If Neal were a puppy he would have been wagging his tail. El would never say no to him sleeping in their bed. It had always been Neal who had insisted on the spare room because he didn’t want to overstep his bounds. But now - he felt like a part of something bigger than just the three of them. They cared for him - enough to punish him for being an ass earlier. They were family.
Author: hawk_soaring
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Peter/ Neal/ El
Written for: For sinfulslasher WC: Peter gets tired of Neal's sneaky little fingers and decides to punish him accordingly...by making him wear this: http://www.stockroom.com/Sex-and-Metal-Hand-Trap--P4623.aspx What happens next is up to you. Can be strictly D/s handler/con without sex, can be established P/N or P/E/N. Love the idea of Neal helpless for a weekend and dependent on Peter's (and/or El's) help for pretty much anything, be it eating or showering or...other stuff... *waggles eyebrows*
A/N: Beta’d by the wonderful annieb1955.
~!~
Neal smirked as he adjusted his fedora, making sure it was at just the right jaunty angle. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers and whistled a happy little tune as he headed down the street. Yeah, his tailor would kill him for ruining the line of his suit, but he couldn’t keep his hands out of his pockets today.
It had been pretty easy - but wasn’t it always? And the best part? No one had noticed when he’d palmed the ancient coins. One for each pocket. He grinned and nodded at a lovely young lady in bright red heels as he rounded the street corner, heading for home.
Not that he’d been spending much time there lately. Since he’d become involved with Peter and El (and even thinking that made him grin) he’d been staying at the house a lot of the time. Turned out, Peter was even more masterful at home than he was in the office - and Neal did like to be mastered to a degree. Between Peter and El, he was getting spoiled.
So why had he felt the urge to steal the coins from the crime scene if he was so damn happy?
Neal couldn’t answer his own question and he frowned as his fingers nimbly danced over the coins in his pockets. But then he was bursting through the front door and all thoughts of why fled before his thoughts of where to hide them. After all, he couldn’t just leave the coins laying about his apartment what with Peter dropping by whenever he felt like it and with June popping in for a cup of tea - or Mozzie dropping round with his latest scheme. Especially not with Moz around. He would fence the coins quicker than Neal could dream up a plausible answer as to where he’d gotten them - and then they’d be lost to him forever and stealing them would have been quite pointless.
“Neal! I -”
Neal waved in June’s direction and kept going. “Gotta do something, June,” he called over his shoulder, sorry to have been rude, but feeling as if time was running out for him to get the coins secreted away. His fingers were shaking as he slipped the key into the lock on his door and then he was inside, closing the door quietly behind himself and turning the lock as he let out a shaky sigh and rested his head against the smooth wood. He’d made it.
A whisper of sound made him tense and he raised his hands to push away from the door only to have a heavy weight push against his back, holding him in place. Sure, he could have fought, but the growled “don’t even think about it” stilled him quicker than even a gun pointed at his face would have.
He knew the man behind him wasn’t armed but fighting back was out of the question if he didn’t want to lose everything he’d gained over the past few months. Instead he took a breath and did what he did best. “Is that a pickle in your pocket or are you just happy to see me, Agent Burke?” He gave his ass a little wiggle to emphasize his point.
Peter, for his part, pulled back, leaving Neal feeling more than a little foolish as he turned around and leaned back against the door. Out of habit, he slipped his hands into his pockets. The coins felt like betrayal against his fingers now and he pulled his hands out quickly, stifling the urge to wipe them on his trousers - but only just.
Peter stood in front of Neal - almost close enough to touch, if he dared. His arms were crossed over his chest and he had that patent Burke scowl on his face. Usually, as in when it was directed toward someone else; Neal thought the scowl was sexy. But now, when it was directed his way and coupled with Peter’s obvious disappointment in him, Neal only felt a little ill. He licked his lips and then nibbled the lower one, waiting Peter out.
After anther minute of watching Peter watch him, Neal took a breath and tried on a smile. “So, what brings you here, Peter?” he asked, tilting his head to one side as if contemplating the situation. “A little slap and tickle behind El’s back?” He tsked softly as he shook his head. “Do you realize how upset she would be that she missed it?”
Peter took a breath and let it out slowly, the only indication as to just how angry he really was. For anyone who didn’t know the man they would think he was patiently waiting for Neal to break down and confess - but Neal knew better, as did Peter. Neal didn’t do the whole confession thing. This was pure anger, the white hot kind that could blind you if it was unleashed at full force. This anger was also coupled with the disappointment that Neal had sensed before - and he knew he’d overstepped the boundaries set forth in their fledgling relationship. Hell, he’d overstepped so far that there was a chance Peter would give up on him and not only let the FBI arrest him, but write the warrant himself.
Neal swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and wondered if it was fear of getting caught (which he thought was probably a given about now) or fear of losing Peter and El. And then he realized it was the latter and it almost brought him to his knees, literally. His hands clutched at the door behind him as he felt his knees weaken and his gut churn.
And then Peter was there, right in his personal space, pulling him into his arms and holding onto him as Neal thought he’d shatter apart. His fingers scrabbled at the cloth of Peter’s jacket and he felt like he’d just been pulled from a raging river, barely able to catch his breath as he recovered from the near drowning.
“Why’d you do it?” Peter asked after he’d sat Neal at the table and gotten him a glass of water from the kitchen.
“Do what?” Neal tossed back automatically.
“Neal,” Peter drawled warningly and Neal ducked his head, staring down into his glass, unable to meet Peter’s gaze across the table. “Look at me.”
Neal reluctantly raised his gaze. He never could resist that tone of voice; naked or clothed, it seemed. His hands he kept wrapped around his glass, more to give them something to keep them still than because he wanted another drink. That and he knew he’d be reaching for his pockets as soon as he let loose and he liked the weight of the coins laying against his thighs - even if he knew he wouldn’t be keeping them now. He opened his mouth but found he had nothing to say and shut it again. Now he found he needed a drink and he didn’t think water would cut it.
“Why did you do it?” Peter repeated as he leaned his elbows on the table and stared into Neal’s eyes.
And Neal found that he couldn’t really answer that question because he didn’t know why he’d taken the coins. Because that’s what he did didn’t seem like a good enough answer when he ran it through his head and he figured it would sound even worse if it were to ever see the light of day. He opened his mouth to repeat his previous answer and Peter raised an eyebrow, effectively silencing him. Neal sighed softly as he stared down into his glass of water. What could he possibly say to fix this mess? He’d done it. He’d stolen the coins from the crime scene because it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
“Neal?”
Neal looked up and nearly flinched at the raw hurt in Peter’s eyes and Neal knew that his light-fingered ways would be the ruin of him one day. He bit the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know,” he said softly, his voice breaking on the last word. “I don’t know, Peter.”
Peter stood and held out his hand. Neal looked at it quizzically and then looked up at Peter. “The coins,” Peter said seriously.
Neal nodded and pushed away from the table. He put his hands into his pockets and pulled the coins out; fisting them in his hands once last time before dropping them onto Peter’s outstretched hand. He couldn’t look at them again and let Peter take them so he turned away and walked over to one of the large windows, stuffing his hands back into his now empty pockets and leaning one shoulder against the wall as he stared out into the deepening gloom of the impending dusk. Neal heard Peter move toward the door and knew he was leaving - and leaving Neal to fend for himself. He just wondered how much time he had before the FBI showed up to arrest him again.
“Make sure you’re home by seven sharp,” Peter said as he pulled the door open. “El doesn’t like it when dinner gets cold.”
Neal spun around, his mouth open in surprise. But the door was already closed.
*!*
Neal fretted over his appearance. He had pulled off some pretty wild heists and cons in his time and yet a simple command to dinner had him flummoxed and off his game. Deciding that discretion was indeed the better part of valor, Neal decided to be as perfect for his adoptive family as he possibly could be - and that included taking Peter’s overly dominating personality into account.
Fretting that two and a half hours wasn’t nearly enough time to get everything done, Neal headed for the bathroom, stripping off his expensive suit as he went. He cursed the lack of time as he wasted two precious minutes hanging the suit up in his closet. At this rate, not only would he be late to the Burke’s house, but he’d give himself an ulcer as well.
The shower was hot and Neal used the steam to his advantage, washing and scrubbing the day’s grime away and then shaving - everywhere. Peter liked smooth skin and Neal had gotten used to it. It itched like a bastard when the hair started growing in though so it was much easier just to keep it shaved bare all the time. And Neal always hoped for an invitation to spend a night, or a few nights - or a weekend. He had also hoped to take things further and make their loose arrangement more permanent but he had the feeling that he’d ruined his chances today even if Peter had invited him to dinner. Maybe he just wanted El present when he sent him away for good.
Neal didn’t have time to worry about Peter’s reasons for summoning him to dinner so he pushed the thought away and concentrated on his grooming. Showered, shaved, clipped, and lotioned, Neal headed for his closet to pick out something to wear. As he rifled through his closet he realized that a suit just wouldn’t do. He needed something that would show Peter that he wasn’t hiding behind a façade - that he really was interested in mending fences and furthering their relationship. He needed to be vulnerable, not protected. He wanted to look sexy, but not slutty. And he wanted to show Peter and El that he wanted to be with them. Open and approachable: how the hell did one dress for that?
After trying on and discarding outfit after outfit, Neal settled on a nicely broken in pair of slightly faded but not threadbare blue jeans and a charcoal turtleneck. He topped the outfit with a black leather bomber jacket and headed out. If he managed to catch a cab on his first try and if the traffic lights were in their favor he might just make it to Peter and El’s house with a couple of minutes to spare.
*!*
El opened the door almost before he rang it and Neal knew she had been watching for him. He smiled nervously as he stepped into the house. El hugged him quickly and then held her hand out for his jacket - all without saying a word. Neal thought it mighty strange until he noticed the slim black band that encircled El’s throat. Peter must have collared her when he got home, which left Neal feeling even worse than before, if that was possible. As if sensing his discomfort, El patted Neal’s hand and then led him to where Peter sat watching them.
Neal shuffled his feet a little before settling into a loose stance in front of the coffee table. He watched Peter look at him until Peter’s piercing stare became too much to bear and he had to look away. He heard El snort softly and she patted his arm as she moved away toward the kitchen. He watched her walk away for a moment, only then realizing that the diaphanous gown she wore covered bare skin. Her bare feet peeked out from under the hem as well and Neal took a breath.
That was what he wanted. No, not the dress: the ownership. It was as plain as day for anyone who cared to look and it made him ache for something he now knew he would never have. Peter cleared his throat softly and Neal realized that his thoughts had wandered to what was now forbidden fruit and he turned back to face the music.
Peter’s gaze raked him from head to toe and Neal had all he could do to not squirm under the scrutiny. Instead, he simply raised his chin a fraction of an inch and stared at a spot just to the left of Peter’s head.
“That won’t work, you know.”
Peter’s soft words startled him, although to be honest, he hadn’t really expected to fool the man. He also didn’t rise to the bait.
“Look at me, Neal.”
Neal was nothing if not stubborn - and he couldn’t quite summon up the nerve to watch Peter as he ripped him from their lives.
“Look at me or go home.”
Home: he wanted to be home. But he wanted to be home here and he could feel the emotions rise up inside of him as he realized that wasn’t what he was going to have. Taking a breath, he moved his gaze just enough to look into Peter’s eyes, frowning for a moment as he searched for the censure he was sure he would find there - and didn’t.
“Good boy,” Peter said, and Neal felt a little frisson of lust roll up his spine at those words and he fought back a shiver that would give him away. But some little clue must have shown on his face or in his stance because Peter smiled then and Neal had to lock his knees to keep from falling to the floor at Peter’s feet and begging to be given just one more chance.
“You know I’m disappointed in you, don’t you?” Peter asked and Neal blinked in surprise.
“Yes, sir,” Neal answered when he could find his voice again; using the honorific in hopes he hadn’t quelled all chances of continuing his relationship with Peter and El.
Peter’s lips quirked slightly and Neal hoped he was simply holding back a smile at his answer. “And do you understand that there must be some form of punishment if things are to continue between the three of us?”
Neal nodded and answered in the affirmative again. This time he shifted his stance a little so he wouldn’t fidget and give away just how nervous he really was. As soon as he moved however, Peter lifted an eyebrow and Neal knew his charade was for naught. Peter already knew just how much this was affecting him - and yet he was still playing with him. Neal took a breath to steady his temper and continued to watch Peter.
“Strip.”
Neal gaped. “What?” he managed.
Peter repeated the order, his firm tone of voice making Neal realize he wasn’t kidding.
Neal stared at Peter for a moment before looking over his shoulder, searching out where El was.
“She can’t help with this,” Peter said evenly. “This is your decision to make.” Peter reached out and took a long drink from the bottle of beer sitting in front of him. “And we don’t have all night.”
Neal didn’t have to think about it any longer. If this was what it took to get back in Peter’s good graces, then having to eat dinner in his birthday suit wasn’t going to stop him. He pulled his sweater over his head quickly and, as he looked around for a place to lay it, Peter pointed to the chair to Neal’s left. As he reached out to drop the sweater on the chair, Peter said, “Neatly.” One word and Neal folded the sweater neatly before setting it on the chair. He bent over and unzipped his ankle-high boots before toeing them off and placing them neatly under the chair. Watching Peter out of the corner of his eye, Neal unbuttoned and unzipped and then pushed his jeans down over his hips. He swallowed his nerves as he folded his pants and placed them on the chair before using the chair cushion for support as he pulled off first one sock and then the other, stuffing them down into his boots.
He was dressed in just his boxer briefs as he turned to Peter again. Peter simply folded his arms over his chest and nodded once. Yeah, he had meant all of it. Neal mentally shrugged as he pushed his underwear down over his hips and off. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been naked in the Burke’s house. But it was the first time he’d been naked and everyone else had been clothed - and looked to stay that way, at least for a while. Neal placed his underwear on the pile of his clothing and then turned around with an aborted flourish as he saw Peter’s face and decided not to risk any clownish behavior.
Peter picked up a throw pillow and dropped it on the floor beside the sofa. Neal watched it fall and then looked at Peter who merely cocked his head. Getting the picture quickly, Neal dropped to his knees at Peter’s side. It was then relatively easy to fall into the proper posture; back straight, knees slightly apart, arms behind his back, and his chin lowered submissively.
“Well, that’s pretty,” Peter drawled, “but I want you to look at me. We have some things to discuss.”
Neal looked up at Peter just as he nodded. He was looking past Neal so Neal turned to see what was capturing his attention. El had picked up his clothing and was walking toward the stairs. Neal opened his mouth to question where his things were being taken when Peter grasped his chin and turned his head so he was looking at Peter once again.
“You don’t need to pay attention to anyone but me tonight,” Peter growled.
“Yes, sir,” Neal breathed. If Peter wanted to play the dominant, who was he to complain? Although, if he was honest with himself, Peter didn’t seem to be playing at dominance - not tonight.
“And now for the matter of your punishment,” Peter said as he looked into Neal’s eyes. “What will you give me?” he murmured, probably more to himself than to Neal.
But Neal couldn’t help but answer, caught up in Peter’s spell as he was. “Everything.”
Peter smiled at that and Neal found himself blushing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed, but Peter seemed quite fond of making him do so. Peter suggested a spanking to start, patting his lap and telling Neal to assume the position. It wasn’t Neal’s kink, but then this wasn’t for play, it was for keeps, so he crawled over Peter’s lap and got into position. Peter held Neal’s wrists at the small of his back and then, with no warning, began to rain down sharp slaps onto Neal’s unprotected backside. Each slap felt harder than the last and Neal gasped as the pain built into a crescendo of feeling. Peter was good at this and there wasn’t an inch of flesh on his bottom and the tops of his thighs that wasn’t attended to by Peter’s strong hand. It wasn’t a spanking designed for play, but one of punishment and Neal felt every stroke to his core as Peter conveyed his displeasure.
Neal wasn’t quite sure when Peter stopped spanking him. He only noticed it had stopped when Peter helped him kneel on the cushion again. Neal hissed as his bottom hit his heels and straightened up onto his knees to alleviate the ache. Peter’s hand must have been killing him if his ass was anything to go by.
“Do you have anything to say?”
“Sorry, sir,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“And what will you do the next time you’re presented with such temptation?”
Neal looked up at Peter, dumbfounded. What answer was Peter looking for? Stealing was what he did - who he was!
Peter smirked. “That didn’t teach you your lesson, did it?” he commented. “I really didn’t think it would,” he continued, “which is why I bought a little something on my way home this afternoon.”
Neal watched as Peter pulled a slender box out from under the edge of the sofa and laid it on the coffee table. It looked to be covered in black velvet and Neal wondered what could possibly be in the box that would “teach him a lesson”. And then Peter opened the box and Neal caught a glimpse of polished steel. He stretched forward just a little in order to see into the box better but his new vantage point didn’t help matters as he really didn’t know what it was he was looking at.
Whatever it was, the workmanship was beautiful. There was what looked like two heavy metal cuffs and attached to them was a tree of iron with a ring on each end - four in total. What it was and how it worked was beyond him - but he was pretty sure Peter was going to show him. He was also pretty sure if Peter deemed it a punishment, he wasn’t going to like it, no matter how pretty it was.
While Neal was staring at the pretty pieces of brushed steel, El had come back into the room. It was only when Peter told him to put his hands on the table that Neal noticed her presence. As he hesitated, El knelt at his side and gently took his hands in hers and placed them on the coffee table, pressing them gently and holding her hands on top of his. Neal looked at her and she smiled.
El was beautiful when she smiled and Neal allowed himself to be distracted while Peter manipulated one of his hands and El held onto the other. It was only when he felt a slight pressure between the first and second knuckle of his index finger that he looked back to what Peter was doing. As he watched, Peter finished tightening the wingnut screws on the remaining rings. It was only when the last one was tightened that Neal realized what it was that he was looking at. It was a hand and wrist restraint - and a pretty devious one at that.
The steel cuff was fastened around his wrist and then the steel “tree” ran under his palm. Each ring on the tree branch held a finger completely immobile. He tugged on the hand that El was holding, wanting to get the contraption off his hand - but El held on tightly. She couldn’t possibly think she could really hold him, but he also didn’t want to hurt her.
Peter took the choice away from him when he told him to settle. “This isn’t coming off, Neal.”
Neal blinked at Peter in surprise, a little too shocked by what Peter had said and by the implications to put up a struggle when Peter started putting the matching restraint on his other hand. It wasn’t until Peter tightened the wrist cuff that Neal thought to pull his hand away.
Peter held on, tightening his grip on Neal’s wrist. “Neal,” he said warningly. “I don’t think you want to do that.”
Neal stared at him. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to wear the hand restraints either.
“You agreed that what you did was wrong.”
Neal nodded slowly.
“And you know that you need to be punished.”
Neal thought about it. He knew Peter thought he needed to be punished but he wasn’t too sure he wanted to be punished.
Peter smiled. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to be punished,” Peter said as if he could read Neal’s thoughts. “I said you needed it.”
Neal bit his lip as he stopped fighting Peter. He couldn’t help the tremors that ran through his muscles though as he watched his hands being put into restraints designed to take away his dexterity. His hands were his livelihood. He was a tactile guy and the prospect of not being able to use his hands, even for just a little while, terrified him.
“Finished,” Peter said as he sat back on the sofa.
Neal looked down at his hands, which were splayed on the table in front of him. He lifted his hands and turned them over and back again, looking at the restraints - and looking for a way out of them. They looked pretty escape-proof and a tendril of fear ran up his spine, making him shiver. “Peter,” he breathed, “please. You don’t have to do this.”
El put her hand on his arm and Peter cupped his face in a warm palm. “They stay,” Peter said. “You wronged us all by your actions this morning, Neal. This will serve to remind you that your actions have consequences.”
Neal stared at his bound hands in horror. “H -,” he licked his lips and tried again. “How long?”
Peter stared at him for a few long seconds and then blew out a breath. “As long as it takes,” he said.
El patted Neal’s shoulder and then turned to face Peter, placed her fingers lightly on her lips, and then bowed her head.
“What is it, honey?” Peter asked, his voice taking on that loving tone that Neal associated with Peter and El’s relationship.
El looked up, smiling at Peter. “Dinner’s ready,” she said quietly.
Peter nodded and got to his feet. “Come on, Neal,” he said over his shoulder as he began walking toward the dining room.
Neal got to his feet slowly. His wrists didn’t bend at all so his hands were of no use to him and it took him a few seconds to get his feet under him. If it was dinner time Peter would have to remove the wrist restraints - and once they were off, Neal figured he could come up with some kind of distraction to keep them off. He pasted a smile on his face and followed Peter into the dining room.
El tossed a throw pillow on the floor between her chair and Peter’s and Neal knew he was basically screwed even before Peter told him to kneel. Not wanting to mess everything up and get kicked out, Neal knelt, biting back a frustrated sigh.
Dinner wasn’t the ordeal he had imagined and Neal found he quite liked to be hand-fed. If Peter wasn’t feeding him a forkful of pasta, El was giving him sips of wine or a bite of garlic bread. The conversation wasn’t exactly scintillating, but then Peter liked the quiet after a stressful day and Neal figured today must have fit that bill nicely what with the stunt he had pulled.
Neal turned his head at the next proffered bite of food and Peter set his fork on his plate. “You okay, Neal?” Peter asked.
Neal nodded and then shrugged. He wasn’t fine exactly but he knew his current predicament was directly the result of his lack of impulse control. Humiliated? Absolutely, but it was ultimately a humiliation of his own making. How could he have put all of this in jeopardy just for the thrill of snatching two ancient coins? It wasn’t like he could ever have fenced them. They were priceless - and would be too hot to ever get rid of.
“Can I ask a question?” Neal asked after a minute.
Peter looked at him, seeming to size him up, and then nodded.
“What did you do with them?”
Peter’s eyes narrowed and he snorted. “Coffee in the living room, El,” Peter said as he got to his feet and walked away from Neal, leaving him kneeling alone beside the table.
Neal was sure he was in serious trouble now. It was stupid to have asked about the coins. He bowed his head, staring down at his hands. His wrists were immobilized, he could barely bend the first knuckle on any of his fingers, and his thumbs were greatly hampered by the lack of mobility in his other digits. Without the use of his hands he felt powerless, vulnerable. It wasn’t anything he was used to and he hated it.
El walked past him a few minutes later, carrying a tray. Neal could smell the coffee on it and he sighed softly. He hadn’t been invited back into the living room and, considering his stupidity in asking after the stolen coins, he expected Peter to either leave him in the dining room all evening or just cut him loose. Neal shifted on the cushion. His knees hurt, but his ass hurt more and there was no way he was sitting back on his heels when Peter had done such a thorough job on his punishment.
A soft hand on his shoulder startled him and he looked up to see El smiling down at him. She beckoned and he got to his feet, following her into the living room. He knelt on the cushion beside the sofa again and was surprised to see a mug of cooling coffee - with a bendy straw in it. Grinning, Neal took a sip of the coffee and found it to be the perfect temperature for sipping.
“Thank you,” he said softly, unsure to whom he should direct the comment. Had it been Peter or El who had thought to get coffee for him?
Peter coughed softly and when Neal looked up, Peter was winking - at El. So it was her idea. Neal sobered quickly. Peter was probably still pissed at him then. He bit his lip and glanced at Peter out of the corner of his eye. Peter seemed to be enjoying his coffee - and Neal wondered if he should just drink his since Peter hadn’t taken it away from him. A soft hand on his shoulder surprised him and he looked at El who merely smiled and nodded before picking up her own cup of coffee. Oh, why the hell not? He couldn’t get in any more trouble than he was already in.
Having decided to enjoy his coffee, Neal began to relax a little. His hands ached a little from the unnatural stretch but it wasn’t as if it was painful - just something that was in the back of his mind. What was the most difficult was the realization that his hands were pretty much useless. Every time he reached - or thought about reaching - for something, the weight of the metal hand restraints reminded him of his inability to do much of anything for himself.
His bladder made itself known a little while later and, as Peter and El had settled in to watch some television curled up on the sofa together, Neal simply tried not to fidget and call attention to his problem. A few minutes later Neal felt strong fingers begin to card through his hair and he sighed softly, relaxing his posture slightly and within minutes he was leaning against Peter’s legs. But relaxing had an unexpected side effect in that he really needed to use the bathroom - now.
Neal shifted again, biting his lip to keep back a whimper of distress and then sighed softly as he tried not to think about his body’s needs.
“Are you going to ask me to use the bathroom - or are you simply trying to will your bodily functions to go on hiatus until you figure out how to hold your dick with your hands bound?” Peter drawled from just behind Neal.
Startled, Neal jumped, wincing when Peter’s fingers tightened in his hair and tipped his head back until he was staring up into Peter’s eyes.
“Well?”
Neal mentally sighed. “Yes, sir,” he said quickly. “I need to use the bathroom - please.”
El sat up, moving aside so Peter could get to his feet. Neal stood, momentarily unsteady on his feet. Once he attained his balance, he held his hands up to Peter - sure he would take the restraints off now. But Peter merely snorted in amusement and motioned him to get moving.
Neal’s eyes opened wide. “But -”
Peter grinned. “But what, Neal?” he said, pressing into Neal’s personal space. “You don’t think that a little thing like having to use the toilet is going to get you out of your punishment, do you?”
Neal stared at Peter as he tried to process what the man had just said - and what he meant. He could feel the heat build in his face as he turn and preceded Peter up the stairs toward the master bathroom. After all, the downstairs bath was simply too small for two.
He tried again as they reached the door to the bathroom. “I really can do this on my own,” he said with a forced smile. “Just -” Neal lifted his hands again and Peter crossed his arms across his chest as he stared at Neal.
“Is that what you want?” Peter asked; his voice quiet and devoid of any clues Neal could use to decipher his hidden meaning.
“Well, my hands are starting to ache a little and I have to pee so -”
“You want this all to be over, Neal? Because I can make it happen - and, on Monday I can sign you over to another handler for the remainder of your time with the FBI.”
Neal had been looking at his hands again as he held them, palm up, toward Peter. As Peter’s words sank in, however, he looked up at Peter and blinked in surprise. “Sign my - what?” he stammered. This wasn’t what he’d meant at all but, apparently Peter thought he was rejecting him and El and all that went along with it. He opened his mouth to protest and realized just what Peter had offered here - and how he had truly broken Peter’s trust by stealing the coins. Peter had put everything on the line for him: his career, his family. And Neal had tossed it all back in his face when he’d pocketed the priceless coins. Tonight had been another gamble: Peter and El had given him a second chance at staying with them - at belonging - and he had just about tossed that back in their laps as well. How stupid could he possibly be?
Peter was reaching into his pocket, presumably to get the little allen wrench needed to open the cuffs and Neal put his hands behind his back, hiding them from Peter. “Please, don’t,” he said softly. “Pe - Sir, I don’t want to be let out of the cuffs.”
Peter’s hand stilled and he stared at Neal for a long moment before nodding once. “I presume you still need to use the bathroom?”
Neal blushed again and nodded. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled as he tried not to fidget.
“Then let’s get moving,” Peter said, his tone all business now that Neal’s surrender was complete.
Neal stood in front of the toilet, his humiliation complete. “Sir, I -” He took a breath. “I don’t know how to do this.”
He felt Peter at his back and closed his eyes as tears formed. He would not cry, damn it. Not over something this insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He would not. And then Peter’s trousers brushed up against the backs of his naked thighs and Neal’s breath caught in his throat at the sheer eroticism of it. He’d always had a thing for power shifts: him naked and his lover clothed - or vice versa. But this was somehow more intense. Maybe it was because he felt so helpless with his hands in the restraints but it was really messing with his head. Peter’s breath on his neck as he reached around him made him shudder.
“Please,” he breathed as Peter’s hand closed around his dick, aiming it toward the toilet. He was hard and there was no way he was pissing through a dick hard enough to pound nails with.
“Got a problem?” Peter asked and Neal could hear the smirk in his voice.
Neal moaned. “Please.” There were no other words. Nothing else but the aching need that was building as he felt Peter’s hand begin to move, jacking him slowly toward distraction as the pressure built in his balls and pain twinged in his abdomen from his over-full bladder.
Peter tweaked a nipple, rolling it between his fingers, as he tugged on his dick. Neal was held in place, his whole body a network of sensation that zinged between his nipples and his balls. At some point he’d let his head fall back onto Peter’s shoulder and now Peter was murmuring directly into his ear, the low voice sending another zing of pleasure through him.
“C’mon, Neal,” Peter growled. “Come for me.”
And to Neal’s shock, that was all it took to send him spiraling over the edge. Peter’s hand slipped upward to wrap around Neal’s throat even as his other milked Neal’s orgasm from his sensitive dick and Neal moaned at the overt sign of ownership. Peter chuckled softly as he used his hand to turn Neal’s head - and then he kissed him. One hand was still wrapped around Neal’s sensitive cock and the other around his throat and Neal thought it was the most loved he’d ever felt in his life.
“You back with me?” Peter asked against his lips and Neal nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Peter placed a light peck against his lips again and Neal could feel the smile. “Then piss for me so we can go back downstairs. El is going to wonder what we got up to without her.”
Neal snorted softly and tried to relax enough to piss. Peter gave him a moment and then moved his hand from around Neal’s throat and pressed on his abdomen - just enough to get Neal’s flow started. Neal sighed as his bladder emptied. It felt heavenly but his stubbornness from before left his abdomen feeling a little achy. He knew it would pass and it served him right for not trusting Peter to take care of him properly. But that was past - and Neal couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of the weekend would go. After all, it didn’t look like Peter was willing to let him off easy with the punishment - but if that meant that Peter and El would take care of him, he was okay with it.
A light slap to his ass caught his attention and he hissed even as he tried to rub the sting away. The metal restraints felt weird against the skin of his ass and he felt his cock try to twitch. He rolled his eyes, not really surprised by his body’s response to the restraints. Truth be told, it made him feel cherished and he really liked that - especially since it didn’t happen often.
Peter stopped him in the hall and Neal looked up quickly. “How are the hands?” Peter asked as he lifted Neal’s hands and ran his fingers over Neal’s own. “And don’t bullshit me. I want an honest answer.”
Neal bit his lip. He knew that, if he told Peter he was in pain, the restraints would be gone. He also knew that Peter would know if he lied to him. He shrugged a little and licked his lips. “My hands ache a little from the stretch but they’re okay. The circulation is fine.”
Peter smiled, obviously happy that Neal had told him the truth. He nodded. “Good. Let’s get downstairs then, shall we?” Peter took hold of Neal’s arm and Neal raised an eyebrow. Peter smiled. “It’s my responsibility to take care of you and you can’t hold onto or grab the banister if you start to fall. So I’m going to hold on and you’re not going to say anything wise about it. Got it?”
Neal grinned. “Got it.” They started down the stairs. “Does this mean I get to sleep in your bed tonight?” he asked about halfway down. “’Cause I won’t be able to pull my own covers up if I get cold.”
Peter’s steps faltered for only a second. “We’ll have to talk to El about that but I don’t see why not.”
If Neal were a puppy he would have been wagging his tail. El would never say no to him sleeping in their bed. It had always been Neal who had insisted on the spare room because he didn’t want to overstep his bounds. But now - he felt like a part of something bigger than just the three of them. They cared for him - enough to punish him for being an ass earlier. They were family.