The Strong, Silent Type
Title: The Strong, Silent Type
Author: kaylynnkie
Disclaimer: Not mine
Pairing: Jones/Neal
Summary: Neal and Jones celebrate Valentine's Day
Word Count:
Warnings/Rating:NC-17
Notes: Written for nevcolleil 's prompt over at comment_fic ; “♥ White Collar, Neal/Jones, handsome devil”
This image and that one for ref bc porn needs ref ;)
“But, Peter, it's Valentine's Day! Go home, go see El.” Neal moved to turn down the volume on the radio, but Peter slapped his hand away.
“That's the game. Don't even think about it.”
“Better yet, just drop me off here. I'll walk home.”
The other man gave Neal “the look.” He almost hit a taxi.
“The road! Peter, the road!”
“We have work to do. You agreed to the deal yesterday. Half day today for a late morning tomorrow. Remember?”
Neal folded his arms and pouted out the window, while Peter whistled cheerfully for the rest of the drive.
At the office, Diana and Jones were engrossed with something on Youtube. Peter went straight up to his office to look through his morning briefs, but Neal went over to Diana and Jones.
Apparently, some CEO had just been implicated in having a long term affair with a gang leader from Boston. Both were very powerful and very male.
“He's cute,” Neal said.
Diana frowned, “Which one?”
“The black one.”
She shook her head. “The Cuban is way more attractive. Jones?”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I don't take sides in these kinds of situations.”
Diana and Neal glared at him, then returned to their debate about skin tone, eye color and musculature. Jones retreated to his desk. They all had work to do, and he was damned if Peter was going to keep him after five on Valentine's day.
“Did Christie give you those?” Neal asked, pointing to the gold earrings Diana was sporting.
“Nah. This,” she held up a golden tennis bracelet adorned with several tear shaped diamonds dangling from the chain.
“Nice. Peter got me coffee,” he offered with a smile.
“Yeah, and what did he get Elizabeth?”
“Roses and an external hard drive.”
She jerked her chin towards Jones. “He got a secret admirer.”
“Yeah?”
“And a silver tie pin.”
“Practical and fashionable.”
She lowered her voice, “And some condoms and a bottle of lube he stashed in his desk when he thought no one would see.”
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Someone's in for some fun tonight.”
*
Peter was watching from his office and finally saw it. Plain as day. Jones was looking at Neal with sheer adoration as he sat perched on Diana's desk, studying an incredible forgery of Monet from an underground art show in Madrid. The affection was clear and when Neal sat down next to Jones' desk, it looked like it took everything in Jones not to leap up and pull out the other man's chair. He chuckled to himself and returned to his desk, then e-mailed El.
Today was not an out in the field kind of day. It was boring research, and Neal was tossing his hat up into the air, while Peter briefed the team about the surge of forgeries that were coming in from France and how originals were going missing from the storage rooms in the Louvre.
“Interpol is upping security around the gallery and in the lower levels. We're looking for originals and forgeries. Rumor is that we have a team.”
“You'd need a team. Half of the staff at the Louvre is responsible for security there. They're trained in prevention, tech and recovery. Just casing the place would take months, and if you see someone all the time, then their information is in the registry. Staff recognizes them. You need a lot of people to case, so they don't get caught. They also have to know their security tech. Lots of people with that kind of knowledge would be hard to find, which means all together, they should be easy to find. Why aren't they easy to find Peter?”
The whole room looked at him, as they often did, with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.
“What? I've never robbed the Louvre. That would be sacrilegious.”
*
“You need a ride home?” Peter was walking towards the door with his briefcase in hand.
Neal shook his head. “Someone else is taking me home.”
The other man smiled, then lowered his voice. “ I've included a few travel routes in your radius. Especially since his apartment is just outside it.”
Though, he didn't often see it, it gave him great pleasure to see Neal flush a pretty pink. “I didn't think you knew about that.”
“Neal, I know everything about you.”
“Apparently.”
“Happy Valentine's Day.”
He smiled - genuine this time, “Happy Valentine's Day, Peter.”
Jones was the last one out of the office. So much for a half day. Neal was waiting by the door with the car keys in hand and a kiss for the agent. Jones swept him off his feet and laid him across the nearest desk to kiss him properly.
“Clinton Jones, why I do declare,” he teased breathlessly. “You sure do know how to make a girl's heart go a flutter.”
“You're no girl, lover.”
“Not a girl,” he agreed, returning the kiss and smoothing his hand over Jones' broad shoulders.
Jones' apartment was simple but elegant. He had what he needed and nothing more. The bed was the most opulent with thick blankets and half a dozen pillows that cushioned Neal's naked body when he fell into them. He watched as Jones pulled off his jacket and shirt and whistled softly. Unable to stop himself, he went up on his knees to drag his fingers over the defined pecs and chest muscles.
“You're such a tease,” Jones rumbled above him.
Neal peaked out at him from beneath the brim of his hat. “You don't give me any reason not to be.”
He cradled Neal's face in his palm and kissed him with his tongue and teeth. “I always make good on what I promise.”
“That you do. Did you like the lube I picked out?”
“Sluts' Slather? Classy.” He walked over to the bedside table and took out a half empty bottle warming lube that they both liked and a condom. “I like this one better.”
“You make assumptions,” he said, pulling Jones close enough so that they could kiss. Jones was still standing and Neal was still on his knees on top of the blankets, but it sent a thrill through Neal to be stood over like that. Not that he's admit it of course.
“Take care of yourself, and let me get undressed.” He playfully pushed Neal onto his back and his fingers started working at his fly.
Neal snatched up the lube but didn't touch himself. He liked it better when Clinton did it. The bed sunk down when Jones crawled up onto the mattress and held out his fingers for Neal to pour the lube on. The slick liquid felt incredible on the inside of his thighs, and then just at the rim of his entrance. He arched back and spread his legs. Clinton's fingers were steady and sure inside, spreading him with practiced ease. There was no urgency in their lovemaking tonight. Neal sighed as Clinton dotted his torso with chaste kisses and sucked a hickey onto his waist line.
When Clinton finally penetrated him, it was a blessed relief. He loved the paleness of his hand against the darkness of the other man's shoulder when he moved to brace himself. The artist in him loved the contrast and how musky and salty Clinton's skin was. He tasted like the cinnamon body wash he used, but he smelled like Neal's cologne. Clinton Jones was a feast for his senses, a work of art he could devour. And calorie free.
A long time later after a shower that lasted too long and a dinner that had been resigned to the fridge because they became distracted, the two were curled up under the blankets.
“Neal, some of us have work tomorrow,” Clinton groused when he sucked on the one of his nipples.
Neal looked up innocently. “Not until noon.”
He almost laughed, then dragged Neal up against him. “Fine, but I'm not helping you.” He stroked his cock and gestured for Neal to climb up. “You want it, you come take it.”
“Oh, Clinton, I always take whatever I want.” Then, he reached for his hat and put it on ready for the challenge.
Author: kaylynnkie
Disclaimer: Not mine
Pairing: Jones/Neal
Summary: Neal and Jones celebrate Valentine's Day
Word Count:
Warnings/Rating:NC-17
Notes: Written for nevcolleil 's prompt over at comment_fic ; “♥ White Collar, Neal/Jones, handsome devil”
This image and that one for ref bc porn needs ref ;)
“But, Peter, it's Valentine's Day! Go home, go see El.” Neal moved to turn down the volume on the radio, but Peter slapped his hand away.
“That's the game. Don't even think about it.”
“Better yet, just drop me off here. I'll walk home.”
The other man gave Neal “the look.” He almost hit a taxi.
“The road! Peter, the road!”
“We have work to do. You agreed to the deal yesterday. Half day today for a late morning tomorrow. Remember?”
Neal folded his arms and pouted out the window, while Peter whistled cheerfully for the rest of the drive.
At the office, Diana and Jones were engrossed with something on Youtube. Peter went straight up to his office to look through his morning briefs, but Neal went over to Diana and Jones.
Apparently, some CEO had just been implicated in having a long term affair with a gang leader from Boston. Both were very powerful and very male.
“He's cute,” Neal said.
Diana frowned, “Which one?”
“The black one.”
She shook her head. “The Cuban is way more attractive. Jones?”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I don't take sides in these kinds of situations.”
Diana and Neal glared at him, then returned to their debate about skin tone, eye color and musculature. Jones retreated to his desk. They all had work to do, and he was damned if Peter was going to keep him after five on Valentine's day.
“Did Christie give you those?” Neal asked, pointing to the gold earrings Diana was sporting.
“Nah. This,” she held up a golden tennis bracelet adorned with several tear shaped diamonds dangling from the chain.
“Nice. Peter got me coffee,” he offered with a smile.
“Yeah, and what did he get Elizabeth?”
“Roses and an external hard drive.”
She jerked her chin towards Jones. “He got a secret admirer.”
“Yeah?”
“And a silver tie pin.”
“Practical and fashionable.”
She lowered her voice, “And some condoms and a bottle of lube he stashed in his desk when he thought no one would see.”
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Someone's in for some fun tonight.”
*
Peter was watching from his office and finally saw it. Plain as day. Jones was looking at Neal with sheer adoration as he sat perched on Diana's desk, studying an incredible forgery of Monet from an underground art show in Madrid. The affection was clear and when Neal sat down next to Jones' desk, it looked like it took everything in Jones not to leap up and pull out the other man's chair. He chuckled to himself and returned to his desk, then e-mailed El.
Today was not an out in the field kind of day. It was boring research, and Neal was tossing his hat up into the air, while Peter briefed the team about the surge of forgeries that were coming in from France and how originals were going missing from the storage rooms in the Louvre.
“Interpol is upping security around the gallery and in the lower levels. We're looking for originals and forgeries. Rumor is that we have a team.”
“You'd need a team. Half of the staff at the Louvre is responsible for security there. They're trained in prevention, tech and recovery. Just casing the place would take months, and if you see someone all the time, then their information is in the registry. Staff recognizes them. You need a lot of people to case, so they don't get caught. They also have to know their security tech. Lots of people with that kind of knowledge would be hard to find, which means all together, they should be easy to find. Why aren't they easy to find Peter?”
The whole room looked at him, as they often did, with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.
“What? I've never robbed the Louvre. That would be sacrilegious.”
*
“You need a ride home?” Peter was walking towards the door with his briefcase in hand.
Neal shook his head. “Someone else is taking me home.”
The other man smiled, then lowered his voice. “ I've included a few travel routes in your radius. Especially since his apartment is just outside it.”
Though, he didn't often see it, it gave him great pleasure to see Neal flush a pretty pink. “I didn't think you knew about that.”
“Neal, I know everything about you.”
“Apparently.”
“Happy Valentine's Day.”
He smiled - genuine this time, “Happy Valentine's Day, Peter.”
Jones was the last one out of the office. So much for a half day. Neal was waiting by the door with the car keys in hand and a kiss for the agent. Jones swept him off his feet and laid him across the nearest desk to kiss him properly.
“Clinton Jones, why I do declare,” he teased breathlessly. “You sure do know how to make a girl's heart go a flutter.”
“You're no girl, lover.”
“Not a girl,” he agreed, returning the kiss and smoothing his hand over Jones' broad shoulders.
Jones' apartment was simple but elegant. He had what he needed and nothing more. The bed was the most opulent with thick blankets and half a dozen pillows that cushioned Neal's naked body when he fell into them. He watched as Jones pulled off his jacket and shirt and whistled softly. Unable to stop himself, he went up on his knees to drag his fingers over the defined pecs and chest muscles.
“You're such a tease,” Jones rumbled above him.
Neal peaked out at him from beneath the brim of his hat. “You don't give me any reason not to be.”
He cradled Neal's face in his palm and kissed him with his tongue and teeth. “I always make good on what I promise.”
“That you do. Did you like the lube I picked out?”
“Sluts' Slather? Classy.” He walked over to the bedside table and took out a half empty bottle warming lube that they both liked and a condom. “I like this one better.”
“You make assumptions,” he said, pulling Jones close enough so that they could kiss. Jones was still standing and Neal was still on his knees on top of the blankets, but it sent a thrill through Neal to be stood over like that. Not that he's admit it of course.
“Take care of yourself, and let me get undressed.” He playfully pushed Neal onto his back and his fingers started working at his fly.
Neal snatched up the lube but didn't touch himself. He liked it better when Clinton did it. The bed sunk down when Jones crawled up onto the mattress and held out his fingers for Neal to pour the lube on. The slick liquid felt incredible on the inside of his thighs, and then just at the rim of his entrance. He arched back and spread his legs. Clinton's fingers were steady and sure inside, spreading him with practiced ease. There was no urgency in their lovemaking tonight. Neal sighed as Clinton dotted his torso with chaste kisses and sucked a hickey onto his waist line.
When Clinton finally penetrated him, it was a blessed relief. He loved the paleness of his hand against the darkness of the other man's shoulder when he moved to brace himself. The artist in him loved the contrast and how musky and salty Clinton's skin was. He tasted like the cinnamon body wash he used, but he smelled like Neal's cologne. Clinton Jones was a feast for his senses, a work of art he could devour. And calorie free.
A long time later after a shower that lasted too long and a dinner that had been resigned to the fridge because they became distracted, the two were curled up under the blankets.
“Neal, some of us have work tomorrow,” Clinton groused when he sucked on the one of his nipples.
Neal looked up innocently. “Not until noon.”
He almost laughed, then dragged Neal up against him. “Fine, but I'm not helping you.” He stroked his cock and gestured for Neal to climb up. “You want it, you come take it.”
“Oh, Clinton, I always take whatever I want.” Then, he reached for his hat and put it on ready for the challenge.