Of Mice and Men
Title: Of Mice and Men
Author: hurinhouse
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Neal/Sara, Mozzie
Warning: mostly PWP, light BDSM
Summary: Mozzie takes pride in being Neal's prevailing savior, but he's not above passing the baton when the situation warrants.
A/N: Spoilers for episode 2.15 (Power Play)
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
Word Count: 1,701
"It's not going to work."
Her gasp is half mini-scream. She whips around like a banshee, eyes wide, hair wild. It takes less than a second for her to recover once she sees him - "Oh, it's you. How long have you been here?"
Mozzie ignores the interrogation and throws air quotes up, perfectly mimicking Sara's soft, coy remorse from the previous month, "I'm sorry." Then he replicates Neal's lower register with the husky, "Don’t be sorry" before more clothes had magically become untucked.
"You were watching us? In the archives?"
"You get your thrills where you can," he shrugs as he pulls a chair out and plops down at the table. He thinks the shower's been running for three minutes, tops. Neal loves to pamper himself when he's not on the run. Moz has plenty of time.
"God, you're like a… a rat. Sneaky and opportunistic."
He smiles and nods. "I'd prefer mouse, actually. It's a pretty useful skill, being invisible."
Sara rolls her eyes and turns toward the bathroom. He'd better move this along…
"So where do you think this little play date is going?"
Her glare is evil and super-villainish. He waits for horns to peek out but she heaves out a big sigh and sinks into the chair opposite. Neal's shirt covers her derriere but the sun shining through the glass doors throws revealing slivers of light over other areas, which Mozzie loyally ignores.
She sends a glance to the bathroom. "Mozzie, this is really none of your business."
"Let me lay it out for you, Angelina. You seem fairly strong, pretty firm on what you want and the fact that you're not going to take any of Neal's shit."
"True."
"Kate was pretty high maintenance on an everyday basis, but especially in bed- "
"Excuse me?"
"-she let Neal to do all the work. Like a... kitten princess, if you will." Ha! Her face is heating up. Good.
"How on earth would you know this?"
"Alex was plenty forceful but she's just plain selfish."
“Neal tells you all his bedroom secrets?”
He shakes his head (he’d thought more of her). “Eyes. Ears.”
“Again… rat. Why are you telling me this?”
"Let's just say he's been in this... persona... long enough that he could... benefit from someone like you."
"Aha! So Neal Caffrey is an alias!"
Seriously? Trust Wonder Woman to focus on the trivial. "That's just what you'd like to believe."
"Wait, what do you mean,' like me'?"
"Think about it. Neal has to hold it together 24/7. For the Suit, for everyone in that office, for old friends he runs into trying to kill him, even in his own home.”
“For you.”
“Hardly. For June, maybe.”
“Because she's a pillar of the community.”
“He doesn't know it, but he needs one outlet where he doesn’t have to be in control."
He waits for it… 1,2,3.
"Oh."
Heh. Look at that bewilderment. Never thought he'd see that on her face. But then she blinks and washes it all away. Has she been taking lessons from Neal?
She runs a seductive finger up and down her forearm, "So Mozzie, could you help me with- "
"Oh god!" He can't clamp his palms around his ears fast enough. "Not listening! Not helping!"
And there's the horn, peeking through that fiery hair atop her head.
* * * * *
"Why are you doing this?"
"Go ahead, Neal. The more you talk, the longer you wait."
He raises his brow in indignation. "You could at least let me get more comfortable."
"So you can reach the pin sewn into your sleeve and pick those cuffs?" She wants to kiss that frown away but she can't guarantee he won't find something on her to help him escape. It was a pleasure to trick him into letting her restrain him. Doesn't matter how clever they are, when the little one swells, there's no room in the big one for coherent thought.
She slips each button from its hole slowly, methodically, mirroring the smug smile he gives her. She leaves his arms covered, in the sleeves; she likes the way it looks. But the T-shirt beneath ruins it.
His eyes are comical when he sees the shears in her hand. "Uh, Sara?"
"I'll buy you a new one."
She's never seen him as still as when those blades slice through the soft white cotton, cold metal edge sliding up his skin.
"That was $55." The indignation in his voice is adorable.
"I'll bet you have enough behind that fireplace to buy everyone in the FBI a new undershirt, Caffrey."
* * * * *
It's annoying how arrogant he's able to keep himself after being tied to his own chair, stripped nude and blindfolded. A blindfold that doesn't hide those cocky eyebrows.
"You going to get to the point of this any time soon?"
"Hot date, Caffrey?"
"Getting a little cold over here."
"Oh, I can take care of that."
* * * * *
She regrets pulling the ice out so soon. It's not that she didn't enjoy watching him squirm. The gasp was incredible, ribcage filling up sharply, his ass trying to scoot backward in the chair, the shock on his face when she began just below his cock. She wishes she could watch his eyes. Exquisite.
But she shouldn't pull all the toys out so soon; she needs to leave something for the next time and he's nowhere near ready to break. She puts the candles away.
She’s brought him to hardness twice and then left him waiting. His slick smile is fading just a bit. It's just a tiny chink in his armor but she soaks it up, tucks it in her pocket, plenty of space for more.
* * * * *
He's always in control during sex. Oh she's more than an active participant - she gives as good as she gets and then some. But she hadn't realized just how much Neal steers their nocturnal activities, how much she tolerates it.
She'd let Mozzie's advice sit for a few weeks, watching, studying. He was right. It's not that Neal doesn't enjoy being in the driver's seat; he prefers it. But when she sees him after a long day of being 'on' for everyone, including her, the strain he hides so well is practically broadcast. He'd be mortified to know he had a tell.
He keeps in check when she traces her tongue up his chest, plasters his lopsided grin onto his unflappable mask. Nothing affects the suave, composed Neal Caffrey. He's in complete control of his faculties at all times. If he has an orgasm, fine. If not, it's no matter to him. He's not bound by mere mortal qualities, and he's certainly not governed by anyone else's.
But she can see the set of his smiling jaw, how it tics beneath his clenched teeth when she flutters her tongue just under the head. She can feel the tremor in his thighs. As it turns out, the board room isn't the only place Sara Ellis can rule. And Neal Caffrey needs to be ruled.
* * * * *
He's panting in her ear, his chest heaving each time she sinks down onto him. But it wouldn't be domination if she didn't make him wait. They'd never done this before, her straddling him. She's glad she chose the wide chair with the cushion.
She reaches back behind herself, runs her nails along his balls while she plunges back down. He growls, long and deep. They're engorged back there, taut, his tie ensuring her authority. At least she'd chosen his least favorite; she's not sure why it was in his closet. She leans back further, cinches the silk tighter, and he jerks, the pitch of his groan rising.
He's gone from shrugged indifference to eye-rolling annoyance to huffed frustration - which is when he stopped the sarcastic quips and realized she means business. He hasn't spoken since he'd graduated to downright anger so his breathy utterance of soft outrage is a good sign.
"Pure evil, Repo."
* * * * *
It's been the best she's had in a long time. But now it's Neal's turn. She pulls the blindfold from his eyes, gives him a moment to adjust before she kisses him. He returns it, slow and wet, laced with more than just want.
She climbs off, kneels between his legs, palms rasping the short hair leading to his pelvis. The little hitches in his breath set her tingling again. A single drop of sweat slides down his temple, under his jaw. The pulse there slowly beats it the rest of the way till it pools at his neck. She's never seen Neal Caffrey sweat. It soaks into her skin when she touches it and she glides that finger down his chest, inch by inch, mesmerized by the twitch of each muscle she brushes, driving his skin to a shiver.
A huff catches in his throat and she looks up. He watches, a desperation in his eyes. She needs to let him come. "Ready?"
His eyes slam shut when she engulfs him, head thrown back. She loosens the tie slowly while she sucks, tosses the silk aside and swipes more lube from the jar beneath the chair. Her hand assists, up and down his shaft, his hips stuttering skyward, ass clenching each time.
"Sara." His voice is strained and scratchy. It's a request, not a demand; just what she's been waiting for. She smiles.
She slides one wet finger through his crack, runs it across his entrance and he seizes, a raw gasp gripping him. A second later he shoots. She doesn't mind swallowing sometimes but she wants to watch now, see him come undone; the long stripes spurting toward his chest, his eyes squeezed shut, hips thrusting helplessly into thin air. He's a quaking mess. She did this and it's beautiful.
* * * * *
His breathing evened out a few minutes ago. She pulls the sheet up, rests her hand on his chest. She's never seen him so boneless. It'd be a notch in her belt of pride if she wasn't so drunk on the high of helping him let go. She knows it won't last but it's good while it does. His voice is husky when it penetrates the silence, slurred as though he's drunk, "How did you know?"
Sara shrugs, cuddles into Neal's side a little tighter. "A little mouse told me."
Author: hurinhouse
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Neal/Sara, Mozzie
Warning: mostly PWP, light BDSM
Summary: Mozzie takes pride in being Neal's prevailing savior, but he's not above passing the baton when the situation warrants.
A/N: Spoilers for episode 2.15 (Power Play)
Disclaimer: Entirely fiction
Word Count: 1,701
"It's not going to work."
Her gasp is half mini-scream. She whips around like a banshee, eyes wide, hair wild. It takes less than a second for her to recover once she sees him - "Oh, it's you. How long have you been here?"
Mozzie ignores the interrogation and throws air quotes up, perfectly mimicking Sara's soft, coy remorse from the previous month, "I'm sorry." Then he replicates Neal's lower register with the husky, "Don’t be sorry" before more clothes had magically become untucked.
"You were watching us? In the archives?"
"You get your thrills where you can," he shrugs as he pulls a chair out and plops down at the table. He thinks the shower's been running for three minutes, tops. Neal loves to pamper himself when he's not on the run. Moz has plenty of time.
"God, you're like a… a rat. Sneaky and opportunistic."
He smiles and nods. "I'd prefer mouse, actually. It's a pretty useful skill, being invisible."
Sara rolls her eyes and turns toward the bathroom. He'd better move this along…
"So where do you think this little play date is going?"
Her glare is evil and super-villainish. He waits for horns to peek out but she heaves out a big sigh and sinks into the chair opposite. Neal's shirt covers her derriere but the sun shining through the glass doors throws revealing slivers of light over other areas, which Mozzie loyally ignores.
She sends a glance to the bathroom. "Mozzie, this is really none of your business."
"Let me lay it out for you, Angelina. You seem fairly strong, pretty firm on what you want and the fact that you're not going to take any of Neal's shit."
"True."
"Kate was pretty high maintenance on an everyday basis, but especially in bed- "
"Excuse me?"
"-she let Neal to do all the work. Like a... kitten princess, if you will." Ha! Her face is heating up. Good.
"How on earth would you know this?"
"Alex was plenty forceful but she's just plain selfish."
“Neal tells you all his bedroom secrets?”
He shakes his head (he’d thought more of her). “Eyes. Ears.”
“Again… rat. Why are you telling me this?”
"Let's just say he's been in this... persona... long enough that he could... benefit from someone like you."
"Aha! So Neal Caffrey is an alias!"
Seriously? Trust Wonder Woman to focus on the trivial. "That's just what you'd like to believe."
"Wait, what do you mean,' like me'?"
"Think about it. Neal has to hold it together 24/7. For the Suit, for everyone in that office, for old friends he runs into trying to kill him, even in his own home.”
“For you.”
“Hardly. For June, maybe.”
“Because she's a pillar of the community.”
“He doesn't know it, but he needs one outlet where he doesn’t have to be in control."
He waits for it… 1,2,3.
"Oh."
Heh. Look at that bewilderment. Never thought he'd see that on her face. But then she blinks and washes it all away. Has she been taking lessons from Neal?
She runs a seductive finger up and down her forearm, "So Mozzie, could you help me with- "
"Oh god!" He can't clamp his palms around his ears fast enough. "Not listening! Not helping!"
And there's the horn, peeking through that fiery hair atop her head.
* * * * *
"Why are you doing this?"
"Go ahead, Neal. The more you talk, the longer you wait."
He raises his brow in indignation. "You could at least let me get more comfortable."
"So you can reach the pin sewn into your sleeve and pick those cuffs?" She wants to kiss that frown away but she can't guarantee he won't find something on her to help him escape. It was a pleasure to trick him into letting her restrain him. Doesn't matter how clever they are, when the little one swells, there's no room in the big one for coherent thought.
She slips each button from its hole slowly, methodically, mirroring the smug smile he gives her. She leaves his arms covered, in the sleeves; she likes the way it looks. But the T-shirt beneath ruins it.
His eyes are comical when he sees the shears in her hand. "Uh, Sara?"
"I'll buy you a new one."
She's never seen him as still as when those blades slice through the soft white cotton, cold metal edge sliding up his skin.
"That was $55." The indignation in his voice is adorable.
"I'll bet you have enough behind that fireplace to buy everyone in the FBI a new undershirt, Caffrey."
* * * * *
It's annoying how arrogant he's able to keep himself after being tied to his own chair, stripped nude and blindfolded. A blindfold that doesn't hide those cocky eyebrows.
"You going to get to the point of this any time soon?"
"Hot date, Caffrey?"
"Getting a little cold over here."
"Oh, I can take care of that."
* * * * *
She regrets pulling the ice out so soon. It's not that she didn't enjoy watching him squirm. The gasp was incredible, ribcage filling up sharply, his ass trying to scoot backward in the chair, the shock on his face when she began just below his cock. She wishes she could watch his eyes. Exquisite.
But she shouldn't pull all the toys out so soon; she needs to leave something for the next time and he's nowhere near ready to break. She puts the candles away.
She’s brought him to hardness twice and then left him waiting. His slick smile is fading just a bit. It's just a tiny chink in his armor but she soaks it up, tucks it in her pocket, plenty of space for more.
* * * * *
He's always in control during sex. Oh she's more than an active participant - she gives as good as she gets and then some. But she hadn't realized just how much Neal steers their nocturnal activities, how much she tolerates it.
She'd let Mozzie's advice sit for a few weeks, watching, studying. He was right. It's not that Neal doesn't enjoy being in the driver's seat; he prefers it. But when she sees him after a long day of being 'on' for everyone, including her, the strain he hides so well is practically broadcast. He'd be mortified to know he had a tell.
He keeps in check when she traces her tongue up his chest, plasters his lopsided grin onto his unflappable mask. Nothing affects the suave, composed Neal Caffrey. He's in complete control of his faculties at all times. If he has an orgasm, fine. If not, it's no matter to him. He's not bound by mere mortal qualities, and he's certainly not governed by anyone else's.
But she can see the set of his smiling jaw, how it tics beneath his clenched teeth when she flutters her tongue just under the head. She can feel the tremor in his thighs. As it turns out, the board room isn't the only place Sara Ellis can rule. And Neal Caffrey needs to be ruled.
* * * * *
He's panting in her ear, his chest heaving each time she sinks down onto him. But it wouldn't be domination if she didn't make him wait. They'd never done this before, her straddling him. She's glad she chose the wide chair with the cushion.
She reaches back behind herself, runs her nails along his balls while she plunges back down. He growls, long and deep. They're engorged back there, taut, his tie ensuring her authority. At least she'd chosen his least favorite; she's not sure why it was in his closet. She leans back further, cinches the silk tighter, and he jerks, the pitch of his groan rising.
He's gone from shrugged indifference to eye-rolling annoyance to huffed frustration - which is when he stopped the sarcastic quips and realized she means business. He hasn't spoken since he'd graduated to downright anger so his breathy utterance of soft outrage is a good sign.
"Pure evil, Repo."
* * * * *
It's been the best she's had in a long time. But now it's Neal's turn. She pulls the blindfold from his eyes, gives him a moment to adjust before she kisses him. He returns it, slow and wet, laced with more than just want.
She climbs off, kneels between his legs, palms rasping the short hair leading to his pelvis. The little hitches in his breath set her tingling again. A single drop of sweat slides down his temple, under his jaw. The pulse there slowly beats it the rest of the way till it pools at his neck. She's never seen Neal Caffrey sweat. It soaks into her skin when she touches it and she glides that finger down his chest, inch by inch, mesmerized by the twitch of each muscle she brushes, driving his skin to a shiver.
A huff catches in his throat and she looks up. He watches, a desperation in his eyes. She needs to let him come. "Ready?"
His eyes slam shut when she engulfs him, head thrown back. She loosens the tie slowly while she sucks, tosses the silk aside and swipes more lube from the jar beneath the chair. Her hand assists, up and down his shaft, his hips stuttering skyward, ass clenching each time.
"Sara." His voice is strained and scratchy. It's a request, not a demand; just what she's been waiting for. She smiles.
She slides one wet finger through his crack, runs it across his entrance and he seizes, a raw gasp gripping him. A second later he shoots. She doesn't mind swallowing sometimes but she wants to watch now, see him come undone; the long stripes spurting toward his chest, his eyes squeezed shut, hips thrusting helplessly into thin air. He's a quaking mess. She did this and it's beautiful.
* * * * *
His breathing evened out a few minutes ago. She pulls the sheet up, rests her hand on his chest. She's never seen him so boneless. It'd be a notch in her belt of pride if she wasn't so drunk on the high of helping him let go. She knows it won't last but it's good while it does. His voice is husky when it penetrates the silence, slurred as though he's drunk, "How did you know?"
Sara shrugs, cuddles into Neal's side a little tighter. "A little mouse told me."