Respite (Part 2 of 3); Fandom: White Collar
Title: Respite (2 of 3)
Author: Esmeralda (laesmeralda)
Fandom: White Collar
Dramatis Personae: Neal Caffrey/Peter Burke (with Elizabeth cheering from the sidelines)
Warnings: Follow up to Tribulations
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work of impure fiction.
Feedback: Responses, including constructive criticism, are welcome.
Original Date: Written April 2012
*******
Respite: Part 1
****
Staying over here if you’re okay. ?
They had agreed that no details should pass through the phones by voice or text. It was challenging.
I’m fine, just… look after him. Love you.
Love you too, El.
I know, silly.
She set the phone on the nightstand and went to check the house one last time out of habit. It had been an hour since she’d walked through the front door herself. She couldn’t help but wonder what had taken place in the extra forty minutes beyond driving time, and felt a little shiver run along her skin.
Elizabeth didn’t think she was much of a voyeur usually, but Peter-Neal vignettes had been playing in her head with increasing frequency over the past year. Lately, she was completely preoccupied with wondering which flights of her imagination were becoming reality. And perhaps pushing them to become so. Which could be dangerous.
While she waited for the dog to return from his last bathroom break of the night, she searched her feelings. Again. There was no ick of any kind. No insecurity, no worry, no left-outness. She did feel a bit of frustration at Peter’s…shyness about all of it. Satch hurtled back in the door and she locked up. He settled into his bed near the fireplace-no way to explain to him that he shouldn’t wait for Peter-and she headed up to hers.
In the snug dark, alone, it was too easy to slip back to the conversation with Neal, dancing, being charmed. She had felt daring as the extended wave of nerves about the Stevenson’s party had begun to pass. Neal always made her feel cherished, exempt from his competitions, somehow under his protection-even from himself.
A little flirt came a bit too easily, had seemed harmless. But oh, no, his fingers had, on purpose, slid along the small of her back and soaked her panties. He had abruptly reminded her that wild animals do not make safe pets.
She heaved an embarrassed sigh and pulled the comforter up higher. Granted, she had let it go that far. She had banked considerable arousal from listening to Peter and Neal banter on the way to the event, and editorializing in her head. Fancy dress, a little wine, being swept along the dance floor by a smooth, smart man, eyes following them-Peter’s eyes following them-all of it had contributed. Whether Neal knew his precise effect upon her or not, he had meant to teach her a lesson. She didn’t think he’d meant to shame her; that was probably her own baggage. But she was an attentive student and wouldn’t soon make the mistake again.
Still, it was a marvel that a single sweep of fingertips on ordinary skin could have such a profound effect. She felt herself respond just recalling it. Then a different thought occurred. Those same hands were on Peter just now. El made a soft sound of realization as something else fell into place. How could Peter explain being undone by such a little caress? He might not even recognize it, a touch that had happened in passing, something that haunted him from day to day, got under his skin. Maybe it had been something purposeful Neal had done born of longing, or just as easily, something unconscious. “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” she said out loud.
Maybe this is why Peter had trouble talking about it. He was normally quite open about sex. He had shared his ordinary sexual quirks over the years without shame and had accepted hers without awkwardness. He could talk dirty upon her occasional demand. And he didn’t hide that sometimes he liked to keep to himself with some porn. But regarding Neal, words seemed to fail him.
What he did share was the general mechanics of what passed between him and Neal, and he would never win awards for the best Penthouse letter let alone the Best American Erotica. But neither could he hide how he felt about it, and that was the intoxicating part. She mulled over that one time he had tried to open up…
****
There had been wonder and shyness and desire in his voice when he said, “I’m pushing fifty, I just blew a guy for the first time, and it rocked my world.” He glanced up at her nervously as he sat at the corner of the coffee table. “Are you okay with hearing that? And that I kissed him. A lot. I mean, this isn’t hypothetical any longer.”
Elizabeth reached out and took his hand. “This is good for you. It doesn’t hurt me. In fact, I’m a little worried that I like the idea so much. Makes me kinda kinky, I guess.”
“And I don’t want you to think that my mind’s on Neal when you and I are together.”
She laughed. “As long as you know you’re with me, I don’t care much what flits through your head. Well, I guess I prefer Neal to Halle Berry,” she confessed.
He smiled at her, relief and a little surprise showing. “The strangest thing about it is that I’m not suddenly looking around at men thinking, ‘Look at that guy, I’d love to nail him.’ It’s all about Neal. Or maybe that’s just denial talking, but I don’t think so.”
Elizabeth so wanted to press him for details. “You know that I’m curious. And I hope you know that you can tell me anything. But you have to want to tell me. When you’re ready.”
“I need to digest it a little more, first,” he admitted.
“There’s no hurry,” she replied. It was a stretch for her, but she could tell he needed the grace.
It seemed to have an immediate positive effect. “I can say this. When I was… touching him, he was outside his head and in his body, so not running a game or trying to be special… I wish you could have seen him, he was absolutely beautiful, like he was lit from the inside. That’s the real him,” Peter said, earnestly.
Even as the wantonness of the image blazed through her body, she thought, ‘You love him,’ and she almost said it out loud. But it was something he’d have to realize, and it wasn’t anything new. She’d watched him fall for Neal’s mind years ago. Fortunately, whether because Peter had room for deep love of more than one kind, or because the male/female dynamics really did make a difference, it didn’t seem to compromise Peter and her. At least, she thought, not so far. “I’ve never known you to be wrong about who’s redeemable and who isn’t. It had to be there for you to spot it; even when you were taking him out of play, you hoped he’d find a better path. I said there was no hurry for me, but don’t leave Neal hanging. It’s a delicate time for him.”
And they had left it at that for the time being.
****
Now that she understood better, she wondered when that touch had connected Peter’s body, as well as his mind, to Neal. She was suddenly certain it was the thing that baffled Peter and left him unable to describe what he felt. Maybe if he could tell her about the moment of realization, he could tell her anything. She resolved to tell him about dancing with Neal. Perhaps it would trigger a memory of his own.
Her analytical self was satisfied in having data, an interpretation that fit, and a plan, so it finally rolled over and went to sleep.
The rest of her should have been exhausted with all the planning, the stress, and the excitement of the day. Instead, she felt charged. She took a deep, slow breath, a tried and true relaxation technique, and was suddenly reminded instead, in a waft of intermingled scents, that Neal and Peter were together. Right now.
Elizabeth never wore perfume for meet and greets. He favorite body lotion smelled mildly like good baking, but she followed the socially polite rule not to apply it anywhere above the bra. Most times, she came home covered with the mixed and overdone perfumes and colognes of less polite huggers and couldn’t wait to shower them off.
Tonight, when she had undressed, fighting the dress zipper a little without Peter there to help, she noticed an intriguing combination of light smells and it took her a few moments to sort it out. Layers of Peter, then Neal, then Peter, then Neal, comingled, with a little of her underneath, an innocent coincidence of hugging her and dancing with her-the two of them hadn’t actually embraced each other. But she felt redolent of the men’s attraction to each other and couldn’t bear to erase it. So she had washed off her makeup but hadn’t showered.
It still smelled fascinating. She had cured Peter of common scented aftershave many years ago. What she bought for him abroad mixed well with his own smell and was always identifiable from among the over-heated men’s trend-fragrances. Neal’s Escentric Molecule 01 (she had broken down and asked) didn’t belong to the latter category either, at least not on him in the tiny amounts he wore. You had to be close to catch it, no doubt according to his plan.
If she was completely honest with herself, wearing that combination on her skin, carrying it, catalyzing it, was a heady power. It was as though she held the space for them, spun the magic to make their connection possible. Perhaps it was that feeling that had made it easy for her to turn to Peter and tell him goodnight, without prior planning.
She glanced at the clock. Twenty whole minutes had passed since Peter had texted. She doubted seriously that he was staying over just to sleep-despite his snuggling tendencies. That thought made her smile. Neal could use some snuggling.
… I kissed him. A lot, floated through her consciousness in Peter’s aroused voice and brought with it a deep stab of pleasure. She could easily envision them kissing. Both of them dominant personalities, both of them tender as well, with a great deal of longing to express. She didn’t have to imagine how Peter moved or sounded, how he would touch, and she knew just enough of Neal to extrapolate.
At first touch, her fingers slid easily, so easily, it was almost over then. She managed to stop. But her mind went on, contemplating that Neal’s witty, expressive mouth would know exactly what to do with her husband’s cock, fingers flexing on Peter’s thighs, his own eyes sliding closed, overwhelmed, totally in the moment, but then they would open again, to watch the bliss burst over Peter. She let herself go then.
*******
Peter leaned against the shower wall, breath heaving. Neal crouched at his feet, water sluicing over his gleaming skin, and Peter reached to tug him up and draw him close. Neal’s arms slid around him in turn. It wasn’t the holding of comfort or need, but an anchoring of self to self, a steadying. But they were both restless. “I’d really like to hear you,” Peter murmured, his hands moving downward.
“The shower was your idea,” Neal replied with a smile, gently blocking him. “I’m holding out for something else.”
Peter shifted and slid his belly against Neal, eliciting a gasp. “What might that be?”
Neal’s nose traced a line from Peter’s shoulder, up his neck, behind his ear. “Wait and see,” he whispered. He shut off the water, grabbed a towel and handed it to Peter. Much to his surprise, Peter used it to start drying Neal off, pausing to bare-palm his cock.
“Stop,” Neal hissed, stepping back. “That was close. Told you I’m saving up.”
“Sorry,” Peter said, “It’s just so… hard to ignore.” He bent to dry Neal’s legs. The anklet flashed wetly. He touched it. “This. It seems so wrong.”
Neal draped a fresh towel over Peter’s shoulders. “I chose it. And I chose it again. Not your problem.”
They paused in the kitchen for a snack, and Neal took the opportunity to negotiate. “I want to discuss doing something for Elizabeth. To thank her.”
“I’m guessing it doesn’t involve sending flowers,” Peter replied, wryly, popping a few almonds into his mouth.
Neal paused, took a swig of water. “Your darling, she who is my friend and ally, is trying hard to give you space, determined not to grill you for details. I’m gathering that you aren’t exactly opening up to her.”
Peter avoided his eyes. “I’m trying.”
“Do you understand that this isn’t just Elizabeth giving you or me a gift-although I appreciate that aspect.” He leaned forward confidentially, for effect. “She likes it. I think you’re missing a bonus here.”
That got Peter’s attention. “She may have alluded to it.”
“She knows how you make her feel, so she most likely understands what’s going on for me. It’s your side of the equation she’s trying to grasp. How I make you feel.”
“It’s just… I’m not very good at describing… this. I’ve worked for the FBI too long, I guess, everything is factual. No adjectives. Trying to use them sounds… smutty. Romance novelist I am not.”
Neal laughed. “I can see that.”
“I just haven’t been able to put into words how it feels.”
“Maybe you don’t have to.”
Peter regarded him warily. “Explain.”
“Earlier, we were talking about my reaction to Elizabeth tonight. But there’s another part to it, which is her response to me. We play off each other, dynamically, the three of us. I’ve kissed her, you know.”
“You have?”
Neal read the reaction carefully. Surprise, more wariness, desire, curiosity. He wanted to play with it, but it seemed dangerous. “I had to tell her all about throwing myself at you. She not only accepted it, she gave me her blessing. So… it was spontaneous. Nothing French about it, by the way.” He saw Peter’s wariness ease, the curiosity grow, so he decided to push. A little. “When we were dancing tonight, things got a little flirty after she could see you watching us. She wasn’t aware of just how much that turned her on and then she turned it right around on me.” This was definitely expanding the desire bit of Peter’s expression. “You’ve got a firecracker there.”
“I’m aware,” Peter replied, deadpan.
“I just couldn’t resist calling her out. I had no choice.”
“What did you-” Protectiveness rose in the mix of expressions.
Neal put up a hand. “Nothing bad. I touched her bare back. But I did it with intent. And she got it, just like that.”
“Oh.” Peter looked relieved, and then bemusement took over. For a few moments, he seemed somewhere else, and then he was back. “How do you know?”
“Gentleman.” Neal held up some scout fingers.
“Bullshit.” Peter leaned forward. “Come clean, Caffrey.”
“Experience, that’s all. Pupils, heartbeat, breathing.” He studied Peter’s body language. “Like you’re not mad at me right now, you’re horny again.”
Peter huffed. “Not rocket science with men.”
“The table’s between us. And a firmly wrapped towel.”
“I’m not satisfied.” Peter caught the double-entendre. He shook his head. “With the explanation. Spill.”
Neal shrugged. “It’ll come as no surprise that I like to watch faces, part of my ongoing fascination with human expressions. I do it during sex too. There’s often a moment, when your fingers find just the right place, or maybe its your words that do it, but you’re right there to feel the flood happen, that preamble that says that the gates are open. A woman’s face responds too. That’s what you learn to look for in that microsecond before she gets embarrassed or covers it with something else.”
Peter took a long moment to absorb that, his mouth slightly open. “I can’t believe you were seducing my wife. Right in front of me.” Amusement overrode the incredulity.
“The experiment accomplished several things. I needed to remind her that I’m bi. Easily forgotten since in her head she keeps seeing me with you. She didn’t mean to do it, she’s no coquette. But it’s going to make boundaries difficult for me if I end up on the receiving end of that too often. And I thought I could give her a window. Into you.”
“So what you’re saying is that you wanted her to feel what I feel. With you.”
Neal nodded. “A glimpse. If possible. She needs to know that she’s connecting with you, even when you’re with me. And it communicated to her my own… need.”
There emerged the rueful smile of realization. “Getting my wife hot and bothered made her send me home with you.”
Smiling like the Mona Lisa, Neal circled the table and flicked off Peter’s towel. “And we’re going to thank her properly. If I can possibly convince you.”
“That is a truly terrifying preamble.”
“Come on, you wuss,” Neal teased, “I promise, it’ll be fun.”
*******
Respite: Part 3
*******
Author: Esmeralda (laesmeralda)
Fandom: White Collar
Dramatis Personae: Neal Caffrey/Peter Burke (with Elizabeth cheering from the sidelines)
Warnings: Follow up to Tribulations
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: This is a work of impure fiction.
Feedback: Responses, including constructive criticism, are welcome.
Original Date: Written April 2012
*******
Respite: Part 1
****
Staying over here if you’re okay. ?
They had agreed that no details should pass through the phones by voice or text. It was challenging.
I’m fine, just… look after him. Love you.
Love you too, El.
I know, silly.
She set the phone on the nightstand and went to check the house one last time out of habit. It had been an hour since she’d walked through the front door herself. She couldn’t help but wonder what had taken place in the extra forty minutes beyond driving time, and felt a little shiver run along her skin.
Elizabeth didn’t think she was much of a voyeur usually, but Peter-Neal vignettes had been playing in her head with increasing frequency over the past year. Lately, she was completely preoccupied with wondering which flights of her imagination were becoming reality. And perhaps pushing them to become so. Which could be dangerous.
While she waited for the dog to return from his last bathroom break of the night, she searched her feelings. Again. There was no ick of any kind. No insecurity, no worry, no left-outness. She did feel a bit of frustration at Peter’s…shyness about all of it. Satch hurtled back in the door and she locked up. He settled into his bed near the fireplace-no way to explain to him that he shouldn’t wait for Peter-and she headed up to hers.
In the snug dark, alone, it was too easy to slip back to the conversation with Neal, dancing, being charmed. She had felt daring as the extended wave of nerves about the Stevenson’s party had begun to pass. Neal always made her feel cherished, exempt from his competitions, somehow under his protection-even from himself.
A little flirt came a bit too easily, had seemed harmless. But oh, no, his fingers had, on purpose, slid along the small of her back and soaked her panties. He had abruptly reminded her that wild animals do not make safe pets.
She heaved an embarrassed sigh and pulled the comforter up higher. Granted, she had let it go that far. She had banked considerable arousal from listening to Peter and Neal banter on the way to the event, and editorializing in her head. Fancy dress, a little wine, being swept along the dance floor by a smooth, smart man, eyes following them-Peter’s eyes following them-all of it had contributed. Whether Neal knew his precise effect upon her or not, he had meant to teach her a lesson. She didn’t think he’d meant to shame her; that was probably her own baggage. But she was an attentive student and wouldn’t soon make the mistake again.
Still, it was a marvel that a single sweep of fingertips on ordinary skin could have such a profound effect. She felt herself respond just recalling it. Then a different thought occurred. Those same hands were on Peter just now. El made a soft sound of realization as something else fell into place. How could Peter explain being undone by such a little caress? He might not even recognize it, a touch that had happened in passing, something that haunted him from day to day, got under his skin. Maybe it had been something purposeful Neal had done born of longing, or just as easily, something unconscious. “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” she said out loud.
Maybe this is why Peter had trouble talking about it. He was normally quite open about sex. He had shared his ordinary sexual quirks over the years without shame and had accepted hers without awkwardness. He could talk dirty upon her occasional demand. And he didn’t hide that sometimes he liked to keep to himself with some porn. But regarding Neal, words seemed to fail him.
What he did share was the general mechanics of what passed between him and Neal, and he would never win awards for the best Penthouse letter let alone the Best American Erotica. But neither could he hide how he felt about it, and that was the intoxicating part. She mulled over that one time he had tried to open up…
****
There had been wonder and shyness and desire in his voice when he said, “I’m pushing fifty, I just blew a guy for the first time, and it rocked my world.” He glanced up at her nervously as he sat at the corner of the coffee table. “Are you okay with hearing that? And that I kissed him. A lot. I mean, this isn’t hypothetical any longer.”
Elizabeth reached out and took his hand. “This is good for you. It doesn’t hurt me. In fact, I’m a little worried that I like the idea so much. Makes me kinda kinky, I guess.”
“And I don’t want you to think that my mind’s on Neal when you and I are together.”
She laughed. “As long as you know you’re with me, I don’t care much what flits through your head. Well, I guess I prefer Neal to Halle Berry,” she confessed.
He smiled at her, relief and a little surprise showing. “The strangest thing about it is that I’m not suddenly looking around at men thinking, ‘Look at that guy, I’d love to nail him.’ It’s all about Neal. Or maybe that’s just denial talking, but I don’t think so.”
Elizabeth so wanted to press him for details. “You know that I’m curious. And I hope you know that you can tell me anything. But you have to want to tell me. When you’re ready.”
“I need to digest it a little more, first,” he admitted.
“There’s no hurry,” she replied. It was a stretch for her, but she could tell he needed the grace.
It seemed to have an immediate positive effect. “I can say this. When I was… touching him, he was outside his head and in his body, so not running a game or trying to be special… I wish you could have seen him, he was absolutely beautiful, like he was lit from the inside. That’s the real him,” Peter said, earnestly.
Even as the wantonness of the image blazed through her body, she thought, ‘You love him,’ and she almost said it out loud. But it was something he’d have to realize, and it wasn’t anything new. She’d watched him fall for Neal’s mind years ago. Fortunately, whether because Peter had room for deep love of more than one kind, or because the male/female dynamics really did make a difference, it didn’t seem to compromise Peter and her. At least, she thought, not so far. “I’ve never known you to be wrong about who’s redeemable and who isn’t. It had to be there for you to spot it; even when you were taking him out of play, you hoped he’d find a better path. I said there was no hurry for me, but don’t leave Neal hanging. It’s a delicate time for him.”
And they had left it at that for the time being.
****
Now that she understood better, she wondered when that touch had connected Peter’s body, as well as his mind, to Neal. She was suddenly certain it was the thing that baffled Peter and left him unable to describe what he felt. Maybe if he could tell her about the moment of realization, he could tell her anything. She resolved to tell him about dancing with Neal. Perhaps it would trigger a memory of his own.
Her analytical self was satisfied in having data, an interpretation that fit, and a plan, so it finally rolled over and went to sleep.
The rest of her should have been exhausted with all the planning, the stress, and the excitement of the day. Instead, she felt charged. She took a deep, slow breath, a tried and true relaxation technique, and was suddenly reminded instead, in a waft of intermingled scents, that Neal and Peter were together. Right now.
Elizabeth never wore perfume for meet and greets. He favorite body lotion smelled mildly like good baking, but she followed the socially polite rule not to apply it anywhere above the bra. Most times, she came home covered with the mixed and overdone perfumes and colognes of less polite huggers and couldn’t wait to shower them off.
Tonight, when she had undressed, fighting the dress zipper a little without Peter there to help, she noticed an intriguing combination of light smells and it took her a few moments to sort it out. Layers of Peter, then Neal, then Peter, then Neal, comingled, with a little of her underneath, an innocent coincidence of hugging her and dancing with her-the two of them hadn’t actually embraced each other. But she felt redolent of the men’s attraction to each other and couldn’t bear to erase it. So she had washed off her makeup but hadn’t showered.
It still smelled fascinating. She had cured Peter of common scented aftershave many years ago. What she bought for him abroad mixed well with his own smell and was always identifiable from among the over-heated men’s trend-fragrances. Neal’s Escentric Molecule 01 (she had broken down and asked) didn’t belong to the latter category either, at least not on him in the tiny amounts he wore. You had to be close to catch it, no doubt according to his plan.
If she was completely honest with herself, wearing that combination on her skin, carrying it, catalyzing it, was a heady power. It was as though she held the space for them, spun the magic to make their connection possible. Perhaps it was that feeling that had made it easy for her to turn to Peter and tell him goodnight, without prior planning.
She glanced at the clock. Twenty whole minutes had passed since Peter had texted. She doubted seriously that he was staying over just to sleep-despite his snuggling tendencies. That thought made her smile. Neal could use some snuggling.
… I kissed him. A lot, floated through her consciousness in Peter’s aroused voice and brought with it a deep stab of pleasure. She could easily envision them kissing. Both of them dominant personalities, both of them tender as well, with a great deal of longing to express. She didn’t have to imagine how Peter moved or sounded, how he would touch, and she knew just enough of Neal to extrapolate.
At first touch, her fingers slid easily, so easily, it was almost over then. She managed to stop. But her mind went on, contemplating that Neal’s witty, expressive mouth would know exactly what to do with her husband’s cock, fingers flexing on Peter’s thighs, his own eyes sliding closed, overwhelmed, totally in the moment, but then they would open again, to watch the bliss burst over Peter. She let herself go then.
*******
Peter leaned against the shower wall, breath heaving. Neal crouched at his feet, water sluicing over his gleaming skin, and Peter reached to tug him up and draw him close. Neal’s arms slid around him in turn. It wasn’t the holding of comfort or need, but an anchoring of self to self, a steadying. But they were both restless. “I’d really like to hear you,” Peter murmured, his hands moving downward.
“The shower was your idea,” Neal replied with a smile, gently blocking him. “I’m holding out for something else.”
Peter shifted and slid his belly against Neal, eliciting a gasp. “What might that be?”
Neal’s nose traced a line from Peter’s shoulder, up his neck, behind his ear. “Wait and see,” he whispered. He shut off the water, grabbed a towel and handed it to Peter. Much to his surprise, Peter used it to start drying Neal off, pausing to bare-palm his cock.
“Stop,” Neal hissed, stepping back. “That was close. Told you I’m saving up.”
“Sorry,” Peter said, “It’s just so… hard to ignore.” He bent to dry Neal’s legs. The anklet flashed wetly. He touched it. “This. It seems so wrong.”
Neal draped a fresh towel over Peter’s shoulders. “I chose it. And I chose it again. Not your problem.”
They paused in the kitchen for a snack, and Neal took the opportunity to negotiate. “I want to discuss doing something for Elizabeth. To thank her.”
“I’m guessing it doesn’t involve sending flowers,” Peter replied, wryly, popping a few almonds into his mouth.
Neal paused, took a swig of water. “Your darling, she who is my friend and ally, is trying hard to give you space, determined not to grill you for details. I’m gathering that you aren’t exactly opening up to her.”
Peter avoided his eyes. “I’m trying.”
“Do you understand that this isn’t just Elizabeth giving you or me a gift-although I appreciate that aspect.” He leaned forward confidentially, for effect. “She likes it. I think you’re missing a bonus here.”
That got Peter’s attention. “She may have alluded to it.”
“She knows how you make her feel, so she most likely understands what’s going on for me. It’s your side of the equation she’s trying to grasp. How I make you feel.”
“It’s just… I’m not very good at describing… this. I’ve worked for the FBI too long, I guess, everything is factual. No adjectives. Trying to use them sounds… smutty. Romance novelist I am not.”
Neal laughed. “I can see that.”
“I just haven’t been able to put into words how it feels.”
“Maybe you don’t have to.”
Peter regarded him warily. “Explain.”
“Earlier, we were talking about my reaction to Elizabeth tonight. But there’s another part to it, which is her response to me. We play off each other, dynamically, the three of us. I’ve kissed her, you know.”
“You have?”
Neal read the reaction carefully. Surprise, more wariness, desire, curiosity. He wanted to play with it, but it seemed dangerous. “I had to tell her all about throwing myself at you. She not only accepted it, she gave me her blessing. So… it was spontaneous. Nothing French about it, by the way.” He saw Peter’s wariness ease, the curiosity grow, so he decided to push. A little. “When we were dancing tonight, things got a little flirty after she could see you watching us. She wasn’t aware of just how much that turned her on and then she turned it right around on me.” This was definitely expanding the desire bit of Peter’s expression. “You’ve got a firecracker there.”
“I’m aware,” Peter replied, deadpan.
“I just couldn’t resist calling her out. I had no choice.”
“What did you-” Protectiveness rose in the mix of expressions.
Neal put up a hand. “Nothing bad. I touched her bare back. But I did it with intent. And she got it, just like that.”
“Oh.” Peter looked relieved, and then bemusement took over. For a few moments, he seemed somewhere else, and then he was back. “How do you know?”
“Gentleman.” Neal held up some scout fingers.
“Bullshit.” Peter leaned forward. “Come clean, Caffrey.”
“Experience, that’s all. Pupils, heartbeat, breathing.” He studied Peter’s body language. “Like you’re not mad at me right now, you’re horny again.”
Peter huffed. “Not rocket science with men.”
“The table’s between us. And a firmly wrapped towel.”
“I’m not satisfied.” Peter caught the double-entendre. He shook his head. “With the explanation. Spill.”
Neal shrugged. “It’ll come as no surprise that I like to watch faces, part of my ongoing fascination with human expressions. I do it during sex too. There’s often a moment, when your fingers find just the right place, or maybe its your words that do it, but you’re right there to feel the flood happen, that preamble that says that the gates are open. A woman’s face responds too. That’s what you learn to look for in that microsecond before she gets embarrassed or covers it with something else.”
Peter took a long moment to absorb that, his mouth slightly open. “I can’t believe you were seducing my wife. Right in front of me.” Amusement overrode the incredulity.
“The experiment accomplished several things. I needed to remind her that I’m bi. Easily forgotten since in her head she keeps seeing me with you. She didn’t mean to do it, she’s no coquette. But it’s going to make boundaries difficult for me if I end up on the receiving end of that too often. And I thought I could give her a window. Into you.”
“So what you’re saying is that you wanted her to feel what I feel. With you.”
Neal nodded. “A glimpse. If possible. She needs to know that she’s connecting with you, even when you’re with me. And it communicated to her my own… need.”
There emerged the rueful smile of realization. “Getting my wife hot and bothered made her send me home with you.”
Smiling like the Mona Lisa, Neal circled the table and flicked off Peter’s towel. “And we’re going to thank her properly. If I can possibly convince you.”
“That is a truly terrifying preamble.”
“Come on, you wuss,” Neal teased, “I promise, it’ll be fun.”
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Respite: Part 3
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