White Collar Fic: Control Me, Console Me (‘cause That’s Just How It Should Be Done)
Title: Control Me, Console Me (‘cause That’s Just How It Should Be Done)
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: BDSM aftercare
Word Count: 400
Summary: Peter takes care of his beautiful boy.
A/N: Answering my own prompt over at “Comfest 2012” commentfic challenge going on now at whitecollarhc.
This also fills the restraints box on my Angst Bingo card. Title is a lyric from the song “Narc” by Interpol.
----
Neal is so beautiful like this.
Usually, it’s the last thing he wants to hear from me or anyone, but when he’s like this, he lets me, he accepts my praise. I murmur it to him softly as I move his limbs into more comfortable positions, more natural positions. “So beautiful.”
The marks the ropes made are still present against his bare skin, and I am transfixed by the patterns. I run my fingers over them - ghosting touches, barely touches at all. My fingers are cool over hot skin. He breathes in deeply, and then out, and the trembling in his limbs gradually eases, and he relaxes.
I go into the bathroom then, and return with warm, wet washcloths and clean him up; the time to admire the thick ropes of cum on his belly and chest has passed. I grab a pillow and ease it under his head, sit beside him, and rest my hand on his hip. “So beautiful,” I repeat and he closes his eyes, pleased.
His eyelashes are clumped together, from tears, from sweat, and I cannot resist - I lean forward and kiss them clean. When I pull back, he opens them, the bright blue color striking to me as it always is, but at times like these, almost alien in their depth and clarity. I move my hand and cup the back of his head, draw him closer, hold him against me, and press kisses against his sweaty temple.
I feel a fumbling movement against me and realize it’s his fingertips, reaching for my tie. He takes it between his fingers, then releases it, pets it. “Will you stay tonight?” he asks as his fingers curl back up into a loose fist against his chest, his voice scratchy from weariness.
I am suffused with warmth and tenderness - he usually prefers to be alone. “Are you sure?”
He nods. I sit up and discard my jacket, toe off my shoes and get onto the bed beside him. He lets me arrange him beside me, leg heavy across both of mine, head pillowed on my chest, my arms around him, and he sighs, content now. Quiescent now. I have never loved him more.
“So beautiful,” I whisper as he finally sleeps.
----
Thank you for your time.
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: BDSM aftercare
Word Count: 400
Summary: Peter takes care of his beautiful boy.
A/N: Answering my own prompt over at “Comfest 2012” commentfic challenge going on now at whitecollarhc.
This also fills the restraints box on my Angst Bingo card. Title is a lyric from the song “Narc” by Interpol.
----
Neal is so beautiful like this.
Usually, it’s the last thing he wants to hear from me or anyone, but when he’s like this, he lets me, he accepts my praise. I murmur it to him softly as I move his limbs into more comfortable positions, more natural positions. “So beautiful.”
The marks the ropes made are still present against his bare skin, and I am transfixed by the patterns. I run my fingers over them - ghosting touches, barely touches at all. My fingers are cool over hot skin. He breathes in deeply, and then out, and the trembling in his limbs gradually eases, and he relaxes.
I go into the bathroom then, and return with warm, wet washcloths and clean him up; the time to admire the thick ropes of cum on his belly and chest has passed. I grab a pillow and ease it under his head, sit beside him, and rest my hand on his hip. “So beautiful,” I repeat and he closes his eyes, pleased.
His eyelashes are clumped together, from tears, from sweat, and I cannot resist - I lean forward and kiss them clean. When I pull back, he opens them, the bright blue color striking to me as it always is, but at times like these, almost alien in their depth and clarity. I move my hand and cup the back of his head, draw him closer, hold him against me, and press kisses against his sweaty temple.
I feel a fumbling movement against me and realize it’s his fingertips, reaching for my tie. He takes it between his fingers, then releases it, pets it. “Will you stay tonight?” he asks as his fingers curl back up into a loose fist against his chest, his voice scratchy from weariness.
I am suffused with warmth and tenderness - he usually prefers to be alone. “Are you sure?”
He nods. I sit up and discard my jacket, toe off my shoes and get onto the bed beside him. He lets me arrange him beside me, leg heavy across both of mine, head pillowed on my chest, my arms around him, and he sighs, content now. Quiescent now. I have never loved him more.
“So beautiful,” I whisper as he finally sleeps.
----
Thank you for your time.