Ficlet: Breaking Point
Title: Breaking Point
Author:
lefaym
Beta: Many thanks to lionessvalenti
Fandom: White Collar
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Peter/Neal (with hints of Peter/El/Neal)
Summary: Neal knows he shouldn't do it.
Relevant Episodes: This is a coda to 2x06, "In the Red".
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Jeff Eastin and the USA Network legally own White Collar.
Word Count: Approx. 930 words.
A/N: This was written for the
kink_bingo prompt: "Rubbing/Grinding".
Cross-posted to AO3
Breaking Point
Neal knows he shouldn't do it--he really shouldn't do it. It's the middle of the night, and they've talked about it, about why they need to be careful, about why they need to hold back, but now, with the sound of Kate's final words still ringing in his ears, Neal doesn't care about that.
He calls Peter just before he breaks the two mile radius. "I'm coming over," Neal says, because that's all he can manage. He ends the call before Peter has a chance to respond, and thirty seconds later he receives a text message: OK.
The cab ride seems to take forever, and when it's done, Peter greets him at the door, wearing a tee shirt and pajama pants.
"What did it say?" he asks.
Of course Peter knows that this is about the package, about the recording--Sara probably told him exactly what she intended to do with it. Maybe Peter asked her to do it. That would be like him.
"It said--Kate said--" Neal breaks off, struggling against the lump in his throat.
"You should come in," Peter says, stepping aside.
As the door swings shut behind him, Neal tries to find the words, but he can't, and Peter steps up in front of him.
"I'll get you a beer."
Neal shakes his head. He hasn't come here to talk, or to drink. "No beer," he manages.
"Wine?"
"Peter, I--" Neal doesn't say anything else. Instead, both his hands suddenly grip Peter's shoulders, and he is pushing Peter back against the door, kissing him as hard as he can.
Neal knows that Peter wasn't expecting it. If he'd been expecting it, he would have been guarding against this, but as it is, for a moment, Peter falls into it, kissing back, his stubble scratching Neal's lips. It's only when Neal's tongue darts forward that Peter pushes him away.
"We can't," he says, his voice strained. "Neal, you know we--"
Neal moves in again, but this time, Peter's ready, and his hand comes up to Neal's cheek, cradling it even as he stops Neal short.
"Peter, please..."
"We've been through this," Peter says. "You, me, El... when the anklet's gone, then we can make it happen."
"That's too long to wait."
"Then find someone else in the meantime."
Neal can tell that it hurts Peter to speak those words, and he can see the hint of jealousy in Peter's eyes, at the thought of Neal going elsewhere.
"I heard Kate's last words tonight," Neal whispers, "and I can't--I'm not--I don't want to spend tonight sobbing on your couch. But I need something, Peter, I can't just--" He stops there, because he thinks that if he continues, he really will break down.
There's a tiny hint of fear in Peter's eyes then, and Neal feels bad for using it--for using Peter's weakness in the face of tears, when he knows that telling Neal to cowboy up won't help, not where Kate is concerned. But Neal wasn't lying to Peter, he really does need this, so he takes advantage of the crack in Peter's armor, and kisses him again.
This time, Peter doesn't push him away. This time, he pulls Neal closer.
Peter's lips are warm, and Neal wants to lose himself in that heat. He wants to pull it around himself, as though it's a blanket. And he wishes that El were here too, because that would make it perfect, both of them surrounding him, but he can't have that, not yet, so he just kisses Peter harder.
Neal can feel Peter's erection pressing into his thigh, but he also knows that Peter won't do anything about it, not unless Neal acts first. Neal's skill in picking both locks and pockets serves him well here; he manages to slip a hand between the two of them easily, and he makes deft work of Peter's fly. After that, it isn't long before both their dicks are exposed, hard and hot against each other. The moan that escapes Peter's mouth when they thrust against each other is pure poetry.
Neal uses his hand to keep them aligned, but it's the friction between them that does the work, skin against skin, rubbing, grinding, pushing them both closer and closer to the edge.
Peter comes first, groaning, and Neal relishes in the expression on Peter's face, the way his eyes screw shut and his lips part just so. And then, Peter's own hand joins Neal's, closing around Neal's dick, until at last, Neal's orgasm overtakes him, and for a moment everything that's wrong with the world falls away.
Only for a moment though--all too soon, everything comes crashing back. Kate, the anklet, the fact that Peter could lose his job and Neal could go back to prison if anyone besides El ever found out about this. But then Peter's arms are around him, holding him close, and at least that's something.
"Come on," says Peter finally, with a sigh of something that might be resignation. "Let's get you off to bed."
Neal knows that Peter probably means the guest bed, and he knows that he can't ask for more, because Peter's already risked enough this night. Really, Peter shouldn't be letting him stay at all.
"Thank you," Neal says, knowing that those words will never be adequate.
Peter presses his lips to Neal's forehead, almost like it's some kind of blessing, and for the first time that night, Neal smiles. What they have, it's messy, it's complicated, and it really shouldn't be happening at all.
For now though, it's enough.
Author:
lefaym
Beta: Many thanks to lionessvalenti
Fandom: White Collar
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Peter/Neal (with hints of Peter/El/Neal)
Summary: Neal knows he shouldn't do it.
Relevant Episodes: This is a coda to 2x06, "In the Red".
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Jeff Eastin and the USA Network legally own White Collar.
Word Count: Approx. 930 words.
A/N: This was written for the
kink_bingo prompt: "Rubbing/Grinding".
Cross-posted to AO3
Breaking Point
Neal knows he shouldn't do it--he really shouldn't do it. It's the middle of the night, and they've talked about it, about why they need to be careful, about why they need to hold back, but now, with the sound of Kate's final words still ringing in his ears, Neal doesn't care about that.
He calls Peter just before he breaks the two mile radius. "I'm coming over," Neal says, because that's all he can manage. He ends the call before Peter has a chance to respond, and thirty seconds later he receives a text message: OK.
The cab ride seems to take forever, and when it's done, Peter greets him at the door, wearing a tee shirt and pajama pants.
"What did it say?" he asks.
Of course Peter knows that this is about the package, about the recording--Sara probably told him exactly what she intended to do with it. Maybe Peter asked her to do it. That would be like him.
"It said--Kate said--" Neal breaks off, struggling against the lump in his throat.
"You should come in," Peter says, stepping aside.
As the door swings shut behind him, Neal tries to find the words, but he can't, and Peter steps up in front of him.
"I'll get you a beer."
Neal shakes his head. He hasn't come here to talk, or to drink. "No beer," he manages.
"Wine?"
"Peter, I--" Neal doesn't say anything else. Instead, both his hands suddenly grip Peter's shoulders, and he is pushing Peter back against the door, kissing him as hard as he can.
Neal knows that Peter wasn't expecting it. If he'd been expecting it, he would have been guarding against this, but as it is, for a moment, Peter falls into it, kissing back, his stubble scratching Neal's lips. It's only when Neal's tongue darts forward that Peter pushes him away.
"We can't," he says, his voice strained. "Neal, you know we--"
Neal moves in again, but this time, Peter's ready, and his hand comes up to Neal's cheek, cradling it even as he stops Neal short.
"Peter, please..."
"We've been through this," Peter says. "You, me, El... when the anklet's gone, then we can make it happen."
"That's too long to wait."
"Then find someone else in the meantime."
Neal can tell that it hurts Peter to speak those words, and he can see the hint of jealousy in Peter's eyes, at the thought of Neal going elsewhere.
"I heard Kate's last words tonight," Neal whispers, "and I can't--I'm not--I don't want to spend tonight sobbing on your couch. But I need something, Peter, I can't just--" He stops there, because he thinks that if he continues, he really will break down.
There's a tiny hint of fear in Peter's eyes then, and Neal feels bad for using it--for using Peter's weakness in the face of tears, when he knows that telling Neal to cowboy up won't help, not where Kate is concerned. But Neal wasn't lying to Peter, he really does need this, so he takes advantage of the crack in Peter's armor, and kisses him again.
This time, Peter doesn't push him away. This time, he pulls Neal closer.
Peter's lips are warm, and Neal wants to lose himself in that heat. He wants to pull it around himself, as though it's a blanket. And he wishes that El were here too, because that would make it perfect, both of them surrounding him, but he can't have that, not yet, so he just kisses Peter harder.
Neal can feel Peter's erection pressing into his thigh, but he also knows that Peter won't do anything about it, not unless Neal acts first. Neal's skill in picking both locks and pockets serves him well here; he manages to slip a hand between the two of them easily, and he makes deft work of Peter's fly. After that, it isn't long before both their dicks are exposed, hard and hot against each other. The moan that escapes Peter's mouth when they thrust against each other is pure poetry.
Neal uses his hand to keep them aligned, but it's the friction between them that does the work, skin against skin, rubbing, grinding, pushing them both closer and closer to the edge.
Peter comes first, groaning, and Neal relishes in the expression on Peter's face, the way his eyes screw shut and his lips part just so. And then, Peter's own hand joins Neal's, closing around Neal's dick, until at last, Neal's orgasm overtakes him, and for a moment everything that's wrong with the world falls away.
Only for a moment though--all too soon, everything comes crashing back. Kate, the anklet, the fact that Peter could lose his job and Neal could go back to prison if anyone besides El ever found out about this. But then Peter's arms are around him, holding him close, and at least that's something.
"Come on," says Peter finally, with a sigh of something that might be resignation. "Let's get you off to bed."
Neal knows that Peter probably means the guest bed, and he knows that he can't ask for more, because Peter's already risked enough this night. Really, Peter shouldn't be letting him stay at all.
"Thank you," Neal says, knowing that those words will never be adequate.
Peter presses his lips to Neal's forehead, almost like it's some kind of blessing, and for the first time that night, Neal smiles. What they have, it's messy, it's complicated, and it really shouldn't be happening at all.
For now though, it's enough.