WC Fic: Love in an Elevator
Title: Love in an Elevator
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter(/El, but she’s not in this one)
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: PWP! Also: public sex!
Word Count: 1,100
Summary: See: title.
A/N: For dmk0064 and the prompt “elevator sex.” Also: I SHOULD BE WORKING ON MY BB, DAMMIT!
----
Were they really having this argument again?
“I am spontaneous, I can be spontaneous!” Peter insisted, leading Neal out of the trendy hotel restaurant with the stunning views of New Jersey glittering across the Hudson. They had been in to question the bartender about a case of art theft, and had come up empty. It was a bit early and Neal had suggested drinks to get the weekend started - they were off-duty, technically - but Peter had demurred, citing an early squash game the next morning.
“Really? What was the last spontaneous thing you did?”
“When I took you and El to Daniel for our anniversary.”
“You made that reservation six months out.”
“I ordered the duck,” Peter pointed out defensively.
Neal hit the down button for the elevator and turned to face Peter, patted him gently on the cheek. “But you wanted the burger.”
“Who charges eighty bucks for a burger?”
“When it’s made with white truffles and foie gras? Anyone who wants to.”
“Spontaneity has its time and its place!” Peter said, as sullen as a child.
Neal glanced around them, saw they were alone, and planted a light kiss on his bottom lip. “You are so adorable when you’re backed into a corner.”
The elevator arrived and they stepped in, and Neal pressed “LL3” for the parking garage.
“I’ll back you into a corner,” Peter said as the doors closed, his voice still a little child-like, but playful.
Neal raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. “Oh yeah?” Peter was crowding him into the corner at the back wall.
“Uh-huh. Whatcha gonna do about it?”
“What are you going to do about it?” Neal asked, pitching his voice low; he could almost feel his pupils dilating at the sudden heat in Peter’s eyes. His dick soon followed suit.
Peter lowered himself to his knees, reached up and made short work of undoing Neal's belt, opening the catch and the zipper on his trousers in under a second. Someone had been practicing. “You sure about this?” Neal asked, his eyes on the glass wall at the front of the elevator behind Peter; though they were now on the 60th floor, they could have an audience at any moment.
Peter had rested his forehead on Neal's hip, the hot breath from his open mouth adding to the moisture of the pre-come on his boxer briefs. “You gonna talk now? We don’t have a lot of time.”
“I’ll shut up,” Neal said as Peter’s fingers pulled at the waistband of his underwear, freeing his straining cock.
Peter worked fast but efficiently, drawing the flat of his tongue up the underside, curling it into a point just as he reached the frenulum, causing Neal to gasp. He used his tongue to draw the head into his mouth, then applied a sudden, hard suction, while at the same time using his right hand to grasp the shaft, squeezing the base hard between thumb and forefinger.
Surprised, Neal threw his head back; his fedora got squashed against the wall of the elevator and dropped to rest against his shoulders briefly before falling to the floor. “You fucking bastard,” Neal gasped as Peter chuckled, the vibrations from his throat translating into delicious sensations where his mouth was on Neal. Peter eased off on the pressure on both ends and began bobbing his head up and down as the elevator chimed out the floors they were passing.
40…39…38.
“You’d better hope no one needs to get to the lobby,” Neal murmured.
Peter’s brown eyes rose to meet his, and Neal could see the mischief there. Peter stood, pressed his entire body against Neal's his erection hard against Neal's hip. “I’m not the one who’s exposing himself,” he pointed out, his left hand taking up Neal's cock as he began to suck a bruise into the exposed flesh above the knot of Neal's tie.
The thought of some society matron finding them like this - Neal with his pants around his knees, shirt tails flapping around his thighs, Peter’s hands hot and commanding and everywhere - was about the hottest thing Neal could think of.
25…24…23.
Neal could feel the telltale tightening in his groin as he got close. “God, Peter,” he whined, twisting his head down so that his face was buried in his lover’s neck. Peter quickened his pace, the calluses on his hand providing a familiar roughness against the over-sensitized skin of Neal's dick.
12…11.
Neal stumbled forward as he felt his climax approach, pulling his hips back, his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Too much,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
“Uh-uh,” Peter corrected, his hand following him. He snaked his right arm around Neal's back, supporting him as his left finished him. Neal came in a hot rush over Peter’s palm and inner wrist and right up his jacket sleeve, with a barely-suppressed whimper against Peter’s neck, Peter holding him up and shushing him the entire time. He opened his eyes in time to realize the elevator was descending from the second floor through the mezzanine and into the main lobby, and saw the astonished expression on the face of a young bellman, who distracted the bored-looking businessman he was escorting, but kept an eye on Peter and Neal as they descended, a smirk beginning to play across his lips as they sank out of sight into the parking garage.
The elevator bell dinged for the third parking level as Peter eased Neal's shoulders back to stand against the wall of the elevator, and he slowly tucked him back into his shorts, pulled his pants up around his shirttails and fastened them for him. With a pat on the belt buckle as he completed dressing Neal, Peter casually removed Neal's pocket square from his jacket to clean the mess that Neal had made of his sleeve, then pressed a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Don’t forget your hat,” he said with a wicked grin as he left the elevator.
Slightly dazed and with a sappy smile on his face, Neal did as bidden, then followed Peter to the Taurus, where he waited with the passenger door open for him. “What are we doing for an encore, Mr. Spontaneous?” he asked, getting into the car.
Peter slammed the door shut and leaned in through the open window. “I think the better question is what are you doing for an encore?” he said with a grin, and walked around the car to get in.
Neal's answering smile was wicked, his eyes narrowing as he considered.
What, indeed?
----
Thank you for your time.
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter(/El, but she’s not in this one)
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: PWP! Also: public sex!
Word Count: 1,100
Summary: See: title.
A/N: For dmk0064 and the prompt “elevator sex.” Also: I SHOULD BE WORKING ON MY BB, DAMMIT!
----
Were they really having this argument again?
“I am spontaneous, I can be spontaneous!” Peter insisted, leading Neal out of the trendy hotel restaurant with the stunning views of New Jersey glittering across the Hudson. They had been in to question the bartender about a case of art theft, and had come up empty. It was a bit early and Neal had suggested drinks to get the weekend started - they were off-duty, technically - but Peter had demurred, citing an early squash game the next morning.
“Really? What was the last spontaneous thing you did?”
“When I took you and El to Daniel for our anniversary.”
“You made that reservation six months out.”
“I ordered the duck,” Peter pointed out defensively.
Neal hit the down button for the elevator and turned to face Peter, patted him gently on the cheek. “But you wanted the burger.”
“Who charges eighty bucks for a burger?”
“When it’s made with white truffles and foie gras? Anyone who wants to.”
“Spontaneity has its time and its place!” Peter said, as sullen as a child.
Neal glanced around them, saw they were alone, and planted a light kiss on his bottom lip. “You are so adorable when you’re backed into a corner.”
The elevator arrived and they stepped in, and Neal pressed “LL3” for the parking garage.
“I’ll back you into a corner,” Peter said as the doors closed, his voice still a little child-like, but playful.
Neal raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. “Oh yeah?” Peter was crowding him into the corner at the back wall.
“Uh-huh. Whatcha gonna do about it?”
“What are you going to do about it?” Neal asked, pitching his voice low; he could almost feel his pupils dilating at the sudden heat in Peter’s eyes. His dick soon followed suit.
Peter lowered himself to his knees, reached up and made short work of undoing Neal's belt, opening the catch and the zipper on his trousers in under a second. Someone had been practicing. “You sure about this?” Neal asked, his eyes on the glass wall at the front of the elevator behind Peter; though they were now on the 60th floor, they could have an audience at any moment.
Peter had rested his forehead on Neal's hip, the hot breath from his open mouth adding to the moisture of the pre-come on his boxer briefs. “You gonna talk now? We don’t have a lot of time.”
“I’ll shut up,” Neal said as Peter’s fingers pulled at the waistband of his underwear, freeing his straining cock.
Peter worked fast but efficiently, drawing the flat of his tongue up the underside, curling it into a point just as he reached the frenulum, causing Neal to gasp. He used his tongue to draw the head into his mouth, then applied a sudden, hard suction, while at the same time using his right hand to grasp the shaft, squeezing the base hard between thumb and forefinger.
Surprised, Neal threw his head back; his fedora got squashed against the wall of the elevator and dropped to rest against his shoulders briefly before falling to the floor. “You fucking bastard,” Neal gasped as Peter chuckled, the vibrations from his throat translating into delicious sensations where his mouth was on Neal. Peter eased off on the pressure on both ends and began bobbing his head up and down as the elevator chimed out the floors they were passing.
40…39…38.
“You’d better hope no one needs to get to the lobby,” Neal murmured.
Peter’s brown eyes rose to meet his, and Neal could see the mischief there. Peter stood, pressed his entire body against Neal's his erection hard against Neal's hip. “I’m not the one who’s exposing himself,” he pointed out, his left hand taking up Neal's cock as he began to suck a bruise into the exposed flesh above the knot of Neal's tie.
The thought of some society matron finding them like this - Neal with his pants around his knees, shirt tails flapping around his thighs, Peter’s hands hot and commanding and everywhere - was about the hottest thing Neal could think of.
25…24…23.
Neal could feel the telltale tightening in his groin as he got close. “God, Peter,” he whined, twisting his head down so that his face was buried in his lover’s neck. Peter quickened his pace, the calluses on his hand providing a familiar roughness against the over-sensitized skin of Neal's dick.
12…11.
Neal stumbled forward as he felt his climax approach, pulling his hips back, his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Too much,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
“Uh-uh,” Peter corrected, his hand following him. He snaked his right arm around Neal's back, supporting him as his left finished him. Neal came in a hot rush over Peter’s palm and inner wrist and right up his jacket sleeve, with a barely-suppressed whimper against Peter’s neck, Peter holding him up and shushing him the entire time. He opened his eyes in time to realize the elevator was descending from the second floor through the mezzanine and into the main lobby, and saw the astonished expression on the face of a young bellman, who distracted the bored-looking businessman he was escorting, but kept an eye on Peter and Neal as they descended, a smirk beginning to play across his lips as they sank out of sight into the parking garage.
The elevator bell dinged for the third parking level as Peter eased Neal's shoulders back to stand against the wall of the elevator, and he slowly tucked him back into his shorts, pulled his pants up around his shirttails and fastened them for him. With a pat on the belt buckle as he completed dressing Neal, Peter casually removed Neal's pocket square from his jacket to clean the mess that Neal had made of his sleeve, then pressed a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Don’t forget your hat,” he said with a wicked grin as he left the elevator.
Slightly dazed and with a sappy smile on his face, Neal did as bidden, then followed Peter to the Taurus, where he waited with the passenger door open for him. “What are we doing for an encore, Mr. Spontaneous?” he asked, getting into the car.
Peter slammed the door shut and leaned in through the open window. “I think the better question is what are you doing for an encore?” he said with a grin, and walked around the car to get in.
Neal's answering smile was wicked, his eyes narrowing as he considered.
What, indeed?
----
Thank you for your time.