fic: give me my sin again - White Collar/Leverage, Neal Caffrey/Eliot Spencer, NC-17
Title: give me my sin again
Fandom(s): White Collar/Leverage
Pairing: Neal Caffrey/Eliot Spencer
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS: Highly inappropriate use of religious themes.
Summary: For this prompt at comment_fic: Neal has to dress as a priest for a con; Eliot is distracted.
“Eliot? What’s wrong?” Neal leans over and whispers various times. His brow furrows between his dewy blue eyes as he does; his pretty face frowns. When Neal swallows, his Adam’s apple moves above the white collar peaking out of the neckline of his black shirt…
The white collar.
Eliot tries not to look at Neal any more than necessary.
“I’m fine,” he hisses in response instead.
The not-looking is only slightly helpful. Eliot still hears Neal’s soft voice and gentle tone. Neal’s the only guy Eliot knows who can smile with his words, and his charms aren’t any less powerful when you can’t see him.
Worse, for cons like this one, Neal turns the charm on real subtle. And - somehow - subtle, on Neal, is twice as effective as obvious flattery.
Eliot holds his own well enough through their first few visits (despite the eyes, the collar, the subtlety - the ridiculously nice-fitting clothes; come on - why can’t priests wear baggy, shape-concealing robes or something? There’s no good reason for Neal’s ass to look so good in his clergy trousers.)
Then the little shit figures out what’s going on, and Eliot’s all but done for. He promised himself, at the beginning of the day, that he would keep his hands off of Neal until Neal was out of costume, but Neal stops looking concerned when he asks if Eliot’s alright; he starts looking playful. His eyes start to twinkle whenever their marks aren’t looking. He looks up at Eliot from having bent over in prayer, face a mask of pious innocence, and winks at Eliot with a devilish grin.
Even the things Neal says mess with Eliot.
Stuff like: “To submit to God is to give to Him every part of yourself. You have to give Him your body. Your mind. Your heart. You must allow Him to work in you, through you…”
And: “A good servant bows to God and asks to be used in a way pleasing to the Lord.”
Stuff that isn’t at all sexual unless it’s Neal Caffrey saying it, and they’re both going to burn burn burn in Hell for this. Eliot isn’t a devout man, but he’s God-fearing in his way, and he’s certain of that.
So before they make their last stop - when Neal reaches across the bench seat in the cab of Eliot’s truck and sets his hand high (high) up on the thigh of Eliot’s jeans - Eliot swerves and pulls into the nearest alley.
Neal’s already laughing. He’s probably been waiting for Eliot snap - no. Eliot’s sure Neal’s been waiting.
“Eliot? Is there something troubling you, child?” Neal says in his soft/gentle/priest voice and - God - the kid is sick.
Eliot growls. He’s never been so turned on in his life. Which can’t possibly be a good thing.
But he reaches for Neal and says, “Shut up,” and swallows Neal’s curving lips in a hungry kiss.
Neal’s laughter turns to groans as Eliot touches him through his clothes in a way no one was intended to be touched through clergy garments. By the time Eliot unzips and curls his fingers in Neal’s hair, pulling and urging Neal down, Neal’s hips are arching up off of the bench towards Eliot’s grasp, and as soon as Eliot cries out in release, Neal stretches his arms out across the back of the bench, head thrown back, lashes shut and lips parted while Eliot returns the favor.
When they’re both more or less “decent” Neal smirks and says, “I knew the Bible quotes would get you.”
“Yeah. No more of the pervy stuff. Stick to the clean verses from now on.”
“They’re all-”
“You know what I mean.”
Eliot pulls back into traffic. His face is bright red. He feels like everyone they pass had eyes in that alley and saw him fornicate with a “priest”.
Neal looks like the cat that happened upon a small flock of wounded canaries.
“Don’t you even feel a little bit bad about all the sacrilege?” Eliot has to ask, although he knows the answer.
“Not when it pays well and the Marks don’t know their Psalms from Palm Beach,” Neal says. “Besides… Repentance means wanting forgiveness for having sinned. And may one be forgiven a sin and still hold on to its benefits?”
Eliot snorts. “That’s not the Bible, that’s Shakespeare.”
Neal shrugs. “Just as good.”
Eliot can’t argue with the sentiment. “Well. Next time we do this, we’re getting you a cassock.”
Neal laughs. “Do I have to wear anything undernea-”
“Yes.”
[end.]
Fandom(s): White Collar/Leverage
Pairing: Neal Caffrey/Eliot Spencer
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS: Highly inappropriate use of religious themes.
Summary: For this prompt at comment_fic: Neal has to dress as a priest for a con; Eliot is distracted.
“Eliot? What’s wrong?” Neal leans over and whispers various times. His brow furrows between his dewy blue eyes as he does; his pretty face frowns. When Neal swallows, his Adam’s apple moves above the white collar peaking out of the neckline of his black shirt…
The white collar.
Eliot tries not to look at Neal any more than necessary.
“I’m fine,” he hisses in response instead.
The not-looking is only slightly helpful. Eliot still hears Neal’s soft voice and gentle tone. Neal’s the only guy Eliot knows who can smile with his words, and his charms aren’t any less powerful when you can’t see him.
Worse, for cons like this one, Neal turns the charm on real subtle. And - somehow - subtle, on Neal, is twice as effective as obvious flattery.
Eliot holds his own well enough through their first few visits (despite the eyes, the collar, the subtlety - the ridiculously nice-fitting clothes; come on - why can’t priests wear baggy, shape-concealing robes or something? There’s no good reason for Neal’s ass to look so good in his clergy trousers.)
Then the little shit figures out what’s going on, and Eliot’s all but done for. He promised himself, at the beginning of the day, that he would keep his hands off of Neal until Neal was out of costume, but Neal stops looking concerned when he asks if Eliot’s alright; he starts looking playful. His eyes start to twinkle whenever their marks aren’t looking. He looks up at Eliot from having bent over in prayer, face a mask of pious innocence, and winks at Eliot with a devilish grin.
Even the things Neal says mess with Eliot.
Stuff like: “To submit to God is to give to Him every part of yourself. You have to give Him your body. Your mind. Your heart. You must allow Him to work in you, through you…”
And: “A good servant bows to God and asks to be used in a way pleasing to the Lord.”
Stuff that isn’t at all sexual unless it’s Neal Caffrey saying it, and they’re both going to burn burn burn in Hell for this. Eliot isn’t a devout man, but he’s God-fearing in his way, and he’s certain of that.
So before they make their last stop - when Neal reaches across the bench seat in the cab of Eliot’s truck and sets his hand high (high) up on the thigh of Eliot’s jeans - Eliot swerves and pulls into the nearest alley.
Neal’s already laughing. He’s probably been waiting for Eliot snap - no. Eliot’s sure Neal’s been waiting.
“Eliot? Is there something troubling you, child?” Neal says in his soft/gentle/priest voice and - God - the kid is sick.
Eliot growls. He’s never been so turned on in his life. Which can’t possibly be a good thing.
But he reaches for Neal and says, “Shut up,” and swallows Neal’s curving lips in a hungry kiss.
Neal’s laughter turns to groans as Eliot touches him through his clothes in a way no one was intended to be touched through clergy garments. By the time Eliot unzips and curls his fingers in Neal’s hair, pulling and urging Neal down, Neal’s hips are arching up off of the bench towards Eliot’s grasp, and as soon as Eliot cries out in release, Neal stretches his arms out across the back of the bench, head thrown back, lashes shut and lips parted while Eliot returns the favor.
When they’re both more or less “decent” Neal smirks and says, “I knew the Bible quotes would get you.”
“Yeah. No more of the pervy stuff. Stick to the clean verses from now on.”
“They’re all-”
“You know what I mean.”
Eliot pulls back into traffic. His face is bright red. He feels like everyone they pass had eyes in that alley and saw him fornicate with a “priest”.
Neal looks like the cat that happened upon a small flock of wounded canaries.
“Don’t you even feel a little bit bad about all the sacrilege?” Eliot has to ask, although he knows the answer.
“Not when it pays well and the Marks don’t know their Psalms from Palm Beach,” Neal says. “Besides… Repentance means wanting forgiveness for having sinned. And may one be forgiven a sin and still hold on to its benefits?”
Eliot snorts. “That’s not the Bible, that’s Shakespeare.”
Neal shrugs. “Just as good.”
Eliot can’t argue with the sentiment. “Well. Next time we do this, we’re getting you a cassock.”
Neal laughs. “Do I have to wear anything undernea-”
“Yes.”
[end.]