TtM - Prompt #230 - Sericulture - More Work - White Collar
Another week, another Taming the Muse (tamingthemuse) prompt. WEEK FOURTEEN - WORDCOUNT 707
Title: More Work (sequel to Work First)
Fandom: White Collar
Prompt: #230 - Sericulture
Warnings: BDSM, mentions of off screen sex
Rating: R
Pairing: Peter/Neil/Elizabeth
Summary: His missing music had turned into missing money.
Disclaimer: blahblahblah not mine blahblahblah ya'll know the drill blahblahblah nobody reads this anyways blahblahblah
Twelve hours later, Peter Burke was a lot less cheerful. His missing music had turned into missing money. Fifteen million dollars to be precise, and Peter hated missing money. Missing money meant that the Bureau would be watching them closely again, and that meant that Neal would be going home again tonight. Unless, of course, they found the money.
Which was probably why Neal was pacing his office like a pissed off cat. He’d been talking non-stop, just letting a verbal diarrhea of theories pour out. It had the whole office spooked since Neal never babbled at work, but Peter recognized the symptoms.
When he’d first been assigned to catch Neal, there’d been something in the files that struck him as off, but for years he’d never been able to figure out what it was. Then, the first week they’d actually worked together and he’d had time to observe Neal in person, it had smacked him upside the head. He’d been so incredulous that he’d gone straight to Elizabeth. His wife, as anyone would have admitted without hesitation, had all the people skills. To his surprise, Elizabeth had not only backed up his insane hunch, but had insisted he use his unique skill set to help Neal find balance.
For six long weeks, he’d refused, and Elizabeth had given him dozens of disappointed looks. Finally, though, Neal had shown up for breakfast one morning unannounced and full of hyperactive energy. After an hour of Neal bouncing off the walls, Peter’s beautiful, intelligent, and occasionally terrifying wife had cheerfully informed him that if he didn’t take Neal upstairs and tie him down till he settled, she was going to tell Diana that he was the one who spread around that picture of her in the lampshade from the Christmas party.
For several seconds, what she’d said really didn’t sink in, and Neal had opened his mouth to laugh, but it hit his brain just as he’d inhaled and he’d choked, coughing twice and then going completely still. Peter can remember exactly the look that had risen into Neal’s eyes at that point. Shock, yes. Fear, definitely. Disgust, anger, self loathing, sure buckets full. Then need. Need so strong that even the innate distrust couldn’t drown it out.
For long seconds, Neal had stared at him, waiting for the punch line like a kid who expects his ice cream sundae to be snatched up at any second. Peter had closed his eyes for a split second, trying to gather his control.
“Look, if this is some sort of weird couple’s argument thing, I can go…”
“Stay.” Peter’d heard the command reverberate before he realized it had come from him. Apparently while he was busy trying to figure out how to politely say no to his wife, his brain had been overthrown.
He’d taken Neal upstairs and done exactly as Elizabeth suggested. He’d found that Neal babbled when he was naked, right up until the first knot. Then he just sort of melted into a languid puddle, all his attitude, all his rebellion, if not gone, then put away for the moment.
There hadn’t been any sex that time. Or the next time. Or even the time after that. It had taken Elizabeth again interfering to get them all in bed together, and it still was something they’d done so few times he could count them on one hand.
“… and in China, they’ve practiced sericulture for millennia. It takes thousands of silkworms to come up with enough silk just to make something like a robe. Did you get Elizabeth a Valentine’s gift because there’s some great lingerie at this shop on Madison…”
“Neal,” He smirked slightly as the other man froze at the command tone in his voice, then paused, “Wait, what were you saying about gifts?”
Neal twitched, confused about the sudden topic change, “Just that you should probably be planning Elizabeth’s Valentine’s Day gift…”
Peter was already reaching for the file, “You said Manterra didn’t have a girlfriend, but what about the ex-wife? Diana!” He was out the door and halfway down the stairs before he thought to turn back, “Come on, Caffery, the sooner we catch this guy, the sooner I can get home to lasagna.”
Title: More Work (sequel to Work First)
Fandom: White Collar
Prompt: #230 - Sericulture
Warnings: BDSM, mentions of off screen sex
Rating: R
Pairing: Peter/Neil/Elizabeth
Summary: His missing music had turned into missing money.
Disclaimer: blahblahblah not mine blahblahblah ya'll know the drill blahblahblah nobody reads this anyways blahblahblah
Twelve hours later, Peter Burke was a lot less cheerful. His missing music had turned into missing money. Fifteen million dollars to be precise, and Peter hated missing money. Missing money meant that the Bureau would be watching them closely again, and that meant that Neal would be going home again tonight. Unless, of course, they found the money.
Which was probably why Neal was pacing his office like a pissed off cat. He’d been talking non-stop, just letting a verbal diarrhea of theories pour out. It had the whole office spooked since Neal never babbled at work, but Peter recognized the symptoms.
When he’d first been assigned to catch Neal, there’d been something in the files that struck him as off, but for years he’d never been able to figure out what it was. Then, the first week they’d actually worked together and he’d had time to observe Neal in person, it had smacked him upside the head. He’d been so incredulous that he’d gone straight to Elizabeth. His wife, as anyone would have admitted without hesitation, had all the people skills. To his surprise, Elizabeth had not only backed up his insane hunch, but had insisted he use his unique skill set to help Neal find balance.
For six long weeks, he’d refused, and Elizabeth had given him dozens of disappointed looks. Finally, though, Neal had shown up for breakfast one morning unannounced and full of hyperactive energy. After an hour of Neal bouncing off the walls, Peter’s beautiful, intelligent, and occasionally terrifying wife had cheerfully informed him that if he didn’t take Neal upstairs and tie him down till he settled, she was going to tell Diana that he was the one who spread around that picture of her in the lampshade from the Christmas party.
For several seconds, what she’d said really didn’t sink in, and Neal had opened his mouth to laugh, but it hit his brain just as he’d inhaled and he’d choked, coughing twice and then going completely still. Peter can remember exactly the look that had risen into Neal’s eyes at that point. Shock, yes. Fear, definitely. Disgust, anger, self loathing, sure buckets full. Then need. Need so strong that even the innate distrust couldn’t drown it out.
For long seconds, Neal had stared at him, waiting for the punch line like a kid who expects his ice cream sundae to be snatched up at any second. Peter had closed his eyes for a split second, trying to gather his control.
“Look, if this is some sort of weird couple’s argument thing, I can go…”
“Stay.” Peter’d heard the command reverberate before he realized it had come from him. Apparently while he was busy trying to figure out how to politely say no to his wife, his brain had been overthrown.
He’d taken Neal upstairs and done exactly as Elizabeth suggested. He’d found that Neal babbled when he was naked, right up until the first knot. Then he just sort of melted into a languid puddle, all his attitude, all his rebellion, if not gone, then put away for the moment.
There hadn’t been any sex that time. Or the next time. Or even the time after that. It had taken Elizabeth again interfering to get them all in bed together, and it still was something they’d done so few times he could count them on one hand.
“… and in China, they’ve practiced sericulture for millennia. It takes thousands of silkworms to come up with enough silk just to make something like a robe. Did you get Elizabeth a Valentine’s gift because there’s some great lingerie at this shop on Madison…”
“Neal,” He smirked slightly as the other man froze at the command tone in his voice, then paused, “Wait, what were you saying about gifts?”
Neal twitched, confused about the sudden topic change, “Just that you should probably be planning Elizabeth’s Valentine’s Day gift…”
Peter was already reaching for the file, “You said Manterra didn’t have a girlfriend, but what about the ex-wife? Diana!” He was out the door and halfway down the stairs before he thought to turn back, “Come on, Caffery, the sooner we catch this guy, the sooner I can get home to lasagna.”