Both, Neither: White Collar, Neal/Peter, NC-17
Both, Neither
Pairing: Neal/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Bondage, self-bondage, orgasm control, D/s, blowjobs…
Disclaimer: So not mine…
A/N’s: This fic was not supposed to be written, I was supposed to be going to sleep for work tomorrow, not writing this. Whatever the hell this is.
Hope someone enjoys it.
He’s on his knees, middle of the bed, loose sweats hung low on his hips and shirtless.
You recognise one of Byron’s ties wrapped around his head and tied in a knot just above his ear.
His arms are behind him, and you can see the glint of metal rings around his wrists.
“Ahem.” You cough, closing the door and locking it.
Neal must have frozen at the click of the latch, his arms muscles tightened and head turned, unseeing, towards the door.
“Peter?” His voice sounds… Strained, odd. Maybe embarrassed but you’re not sure.
“Yeah. What’cha doing?” You lean against the vintage poster next to the door, crossing your arms, even though you know he can’t see you.
Neal drops his eyes to the bed. “Two seconds.” He twists his fingers at what must be an impossible angle, seriously, and you hear a slight click, before his hands fall apart, and he pulls the tie from his head. “It’s not what it looks like.”
There’s a redness on the skin where the tie was tied, too tightly it seems and the slight pattern in the weave is imprinted in Neal’s temples.
“It looks like what it is, I think. If that,” you gesture and refold your arms, “is anything to go by.”
Neal looks down at the slight tenting in the sweats. Eyes going slightly wider. “Natural reaction?” He mumbles, falling forward onto his hands and twisting on the bed to let his legs hang over the edge.
“To being on your knees, or being in cuffs?” You smirk, watching the tented fabric twitch slightly and noticing the slightly darker spot near the peak.
“Why are you here anyway?” Neal asks, running a hand through his hair, mussed from the tie. He’s still got the locked cuff around his wrist and it glints in the late evening sunlight coming through the window.
“You left your homework in the office. I thought I would bring it round. El’s out of town so I thought maybe a beer, work through the night, but I see you have plans.” You drop the manilla folder onto the coffee table and Neal twitches slightly at the sound it makes.
“I was practicing slipping the cuffs.” He says, finally standing from the bed and turning to rummage in the bedsheets. He grabs something from the bed and uses it to unlock the remaining cuff, dropping them onto the bedside table with a clatter. “New issue cuffs are harder than the older ones. Thought I should get some practice incase.”
He turns and grabs a discarded t-shirt from the back of a chair, pulling it over his head and smoothing his hair down again, cocky grin nearly back in place, and the tenting less noticeable now he’s standing and the sweats have draped themselves lower.
He stretches his shoulders and the shirt rides up a few inches to expose flat tanned skin, the faint hint of hair leading into the waistband and the muscles don’t help your composure, you can’t take your eyes off it.
“And…” Your breath catches when he meets your eyes, the blue blazing slightly. “And the blindfold?”
“Incase I have to do it in the dark, better if I can slip them without needing to look. They’re tricky but it’s not impossible. Are you ok? You look flushed.” He walks past you, seemingly trying to completely ignore the fact you walked in on him engaged in what really looked like some kind of kinky sex game.
He’s leaning against the sink, glass of water in hand when you turn to look at him. “Is that really it? You were practicing escaping. Should I be worried, tighten the leash as it were?”
“Practicing not planning, Peter.” He takes a long swallow of water. “Are you sure you’re ok?”
“You were hard. If I hadn’t come up would you have jerked off once you got out of them?” You step away from the wall, standing straight and letting your jacket slip from your shoulders. You drape it over the back of a dining chair as you sit down at the wooden table.
Neal chokes slightly on another sip of water. A flush rising in his cheeks. When he catches his breath and meets your eyes though he’s smiling. “Maybe, why?”
“Well, don’t let me interrupt you, Caffrey. Beds over there, I’m sure I can find something to amuse myself.” Your phone goes off in your coat pocket and you grab it, reading a message from El, you smile, blacking the screen you turn back to Neal, he’s stood stock still, eyes wide, his lips parted slightly as if he’s going to say something. His tongue slips out to moisten them, and he steps in a little closer.
“You’re joking right?” He looks at you. You stay silent, and make sure he sees when your eyes trail down his body and back to the still there erection. “You aren’t joking?”
He takes another step forward, which puts him just within reach, and your hand twitches on the table top. You fight the urge to reach out for about 5 seconds, heavy breathing the only sound in the room.
You let a finger trace the hard shape under the grey fabric, hand moving up to slide under the shirt and press to Neal’s stomach and you can feel the muscles flutter slightly under your palm.
Neal’s head drops back slightly and you run your hand back down to wrap in the waistband of his sweats and use it to pull him forward till he’s standing next to you. “Not joking, Neal.”
“Was that my name, or an order?” He lets out a shaky breath as your fingertips trace the slender hips.
“Both, neither. Mostly your name though. Maybe later. Right now, however, I wanna see you finish what you started earlier.” Your hand pulls out from under the shirt and bunches in the front of it, pulling Neal down so you can press a kiss to his parted lips. You push him back slightly, meeting his eyes. “On the bed.”
He doesn’t move for several seconds, and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even breathe, eyes going wider. The blue more vibrant than you’ve seen it, and you don’t know if it’s merely a trick of the light.
You push slightly at his hip as you stand, lowering your voice slightly. “On the bed, Neal.”
He moves across the room warily, walking backwards eyes on you until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits down hard. “With the cuffs?”
“No, we can save those for later.” He shivers, cock visibly twitching under the heavy fabric, the wet spot growing steadily larger. “Just, do what you’d normally do.”
He moves back, leaning against the pillows and you move towards the bed dragging the dining room chair behind you, and placing it at the corner, sitting down and crossing your legs stretched out in front of you, you slip your suit jacket off and loosen your tie.
Neal’s hands tremble slightly as he slides the sweats down, kicking them off and down towards the end off the bed, he pulls the shirt off in one fluid movement, and you lick your lips, noticing the way his eyes follow the movement of your tongue. His fingers twitch on his stomach, but don’t move any lower. He looks young, and he’s biting his bottom lip while he watches you, but his hand finally moves.
Sliding down his stomach and wrapping around the flush darkened skin of his cock. It’s like him, long and slender, and he slides his palm over the head to gather the pre-cum there to smooth his path back down. His head drops back, a small moan slipping free.
“How close are you?” You ask, shifting slightly as your cock swells in your trousers, the fabric pressing it into an uncomfortable position. “Talk to me, Neal.”
“Close, very close. I was close when you walked in, any closer and I probably would have come when I heard the door open. Or got the cuffs off.” He gives himself a twist on the upstroke and you file the information away for later use.
You should feel guilty about Elizabeth, you love her, you do, but she knows about Neal. How he infuriates and fascinates you in equal measure. You smirk when you think she’ll be more pissed she missed this than that you did it.
Neal’s groan drags you back to the room, and he’s dripping now, sweat on his brow and his other hand digging into the sheets. Hips thrusting into his palm as it twists and moves.
“Stop, Neal.” He doesn’t, hand moving one more stroke. “I said stop.” His hand stills and he whines, still holding himself, body trembling on the edge.
“Peter, what? Please.” His head snaps up and his eyes meet yours, a slim blue ring around blown pupils.
“Gimme the handcuffs, Neal.” You hold out a hand sitting up in the chair and uncrossing you legs, spreading them wide enough for a person to fit between. “And the tie.”
“Peter, please, so close.”
“Handcuffs and tie, Neal. Now.” He whines again, letting go of his cock, which is purpling slightly at the head, shiny and wet with pre-cum smears.
He reaches a shaking hand to the bedside table and grabs the cuffs, before grabbing the tie and thrusting them into your hands.
“On your knees, there.” You point at the space between your legs. Giving him a look that stops his argument before it even starts.
He slides from the bed and onto his knees, folding into the position as if he were made for it, the tracker clacks slightly on the wooden floor and he moves his foot slightly to get himself comfortable, hands still trembling slightly and shivers passing over his skin.
You lean forward locking a cuff around one wrist and pulling it behind his back, it’s an awkward angle but you manage to get the other one locked in, Neal’s shoulder muscles tensing as you stroke a hand up between his bound hands. Letting your fingers trail in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re far too pretty, you know this right?” Neal looks up, a small smile slipping over his face, eyes still blown.
You take the tie between your fingers and run the expensive silk through your hands before passing it around his head and tying it in a bow behind his head. “Far too pretty.” You mutter, almost to yourself.
You’re not sure if this is going to work, if Neal’s going to slip the cuffs and punch you when you try it. But it’ll be oh so worth it.
You slip a hand down the side of his face wrapping it under his jaw and stroking softly with your thumb over his cheek, he relaxes into the touch.
Looking down you can see drips making their way over the head and down the shaft of Neal’s cock and you smile.
He starts when you let go, stiffening slightly when he registers the sound of your zip being undone, but then he slumps, leaning forward slightly and seeking out your hand with his head, nuzzling slightly against you. You ruffle a hand through his hair, slipping a finger under the tie briefly to scratch slightly behind his ear.
His nuzzling continues while you free yourself, twitching in the slight chill of the air against the damp skin. And his lips seek out the head and wrap around it. Tongue lapping against the tip briefly, flicking and fluttering. He shuffles forward slightly, sitting up straighter and letting his mouth open wider to slide down farther. Tongue playing up and down the vein as his head bobs, hair falling down and brushing against your hands where it rests on your leg. You let your hands tangle in his hair, messing it up and pulling slightly, but you don’t push just hold.
Neal pushes himself however, down till the head of your cock slides into the tighter heat of his throat and it contracts briefly before he pulls back. Your hips snap forward burying yourself in his throat and he groans, shoulders dropping again as he lets you do it again.
Three, four, five thrusts and you’re coming. Fast and dirty, slumping in the seat and tightening your hands in his hair as your mouth opens on a gasp.
He pulls back when you lets him up, coughing slightly and tongue lapping at the come on his lips.
“Fuck.” You mutter, smoothing his hair back down. Petting him softly as you come down from the ceiling.
When you regain enough muscle strength to sit up again you look down, Neal’s stomach and the bottom of your trouser legs is smattered in come. You look at his face, as the traces of your come still there, at the slight tear tracks that have leaked out under the tie and you pull him towards you, kissing him hard.
Your hand pulls the tie off and you press kisses to his closed eyes, hands wiping away the tear tracks. “Pretty.” You mutter as you press a kiss to his forehead.
You stand, helping him up, but not making a move to undo the cuffs, you guide him and sit him on the edge of the bed, sitting next to him.
When he looks up at you finally, you see a smile on his face, loose, unguarded and different to his usual smirk or charm. He just looks happy.
“You know you never did answer my question. Is it the kneeling, or the handcuffs?”
Neal closes his eyes briefly, opening them and meeting yours. “Both, neither.”
Pairing: Neal/Peter
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Bondage, self-bondage, orgasm control, D/s, blowjobs…
Disclaimer: So not mine…
A/N’s: This fic was not supposed to be written, I was supposed to be going to sleep for work tomorrow, not writing this. Whatever the hell this is.
Hope someone enjoys it.
He’s on his knees, middle of the bed, loose sweats hung low on his hips and shirtless.
You recognise one of Byron’s ties wrapped around his head and tied in a knot just above his ear.
His arms are behind him, and you can see the glint of metal rings around his wrists.
“Ahem.” You cough, closing the door and locking it.
Neal must have frozen at the click of the latch, his arms muscles tightened and head turned, unseeing, towards the door.
“Peter?” His voice sounds… Strained, odd. Maybe embarrassed but you’re not sure.
“Yeah. What’cha doing?” You lean against the vintage poster next to the door, crossing your arms, even though you know he can’t see you.
Neal drops his eyes to the bed. “Two seconds.” He twists his fingers at what must be an impossible angle, seriously, and you hear a slight click, before his hands fall apart, and he pulls the tie from his head. “It’s not what it looks like.”
There’s a redness on the skin where the tie was tied, too tightly it seems and the slight pattern in the weave is imprinted in Neal’s temples.
“It looks like what it is, I think. If that,” you gesture and refold your arms, “is anything to go by.”
Neal looks down at the slight tenting in the sweats. Eyes going slightly wider. “Natural reaction?” He mumbles, falling forward onto his hands and twisting on the bed to let his legs hang over the edge.
“To being on your knees, or being in cuffs?” You smirk, watching the tented fabric twitch slightly and noticing the slightly darker spot near the peak.
“Why are you here anyway?” Neal asks, running a hand through his hair, mussed from the tie. He’s still got the locked cuff around his wrist and it glints in the late evening sunlight coming through the window.
“You left your homework in the office. I thought I would bring it round. El’s out of town so I thought maybe a beer, work through the night, but I see you have plans.” You drop the manilla folder onto the coffee table and Neal twitches slightly at the sound it makes.
“I was practicing slipping the cuffs.” He says, finally standing from the bed and turning to rummage in the bedsheets. He grabs something from the bed and uses it to unlock the remaining cuff, dropping them onto the bedside table with a clatter. “New issue cuffs are harder than the older ones. Thought I should get some practice incase.”
He turns and grabs a discarded t-shirt from the back of a chair, pulling it over his head and smoothing his hair down again, cocky grin nearly back in place, and the tenting less noticeable now he’s standing and the sweats have draped themselves lower.
He stretches his shoulders and the shirt rides up a few inches to expose flat tanned skin, the faint hint of hair leading into the waistband and the muscles don’t help your composure, you can’t take your eyes off it.
“And…” Your breath catches when he meets your eyes, the blue blazing slightly. “And the blindfold?”
“Incase I have to do it in the dark, better if I can slip them without needing to look. They’re tricky but it’s not impossible. Are you ok? You look flushed.” He walks past you, seemingly trying to completely ignore the fact you walked in on him engaged in what really looked like some kind of kinky sex game.
He’s leaning against the sink, glass of water in hand when you turn to look at him. “Is that really it? You were practicing escaping. Should I be worried, tighten the leash as it were?”
“Practicing not planning, Peter.” He takes a long swallow of water. “Are you sure you’re ok?”
“You were hard. If I hadn’t come up would you have jerked off once you got out of them?” You step away from the wall, standing straight and letting your jacket slip from your shoulders. You drape it over the back of a dining chair as you sit down at the wooden table.
Neal chokes slightly on another sip of water. A flush rising in his cheeks. When he catches his breath and meets your eyes though he’s smiling. “Maybe, why?”
“Well, don’t let me interrupt you, Caffrey. Beds over there, I’m sure I can find something to amuse myself.” Your phone goes off in your coat pocket and you grab it, reading a message from El, you smile, blacking the screen you turn back to Neal, he’s stood stock still, eyes wide, his lips parted slightly as if he’s going to say something. His tongue slips out to moisten them, and he steps in a little closer.
“You’re joking right?” He looks at you. You stay silent, and make sure he sees when your eyes trail down his body and back to the still there erection. “You aren’t joking?”
He takes another step forward, which puts him just within reach, and your hand twitches on the table top. You fight the urge to reach out for about 5 seconds, heavy breathing the only sound in the room.
You let a finger trace the hard shape under the grey fabric, hand moving up to slide under the shirt and press to Neal’s stomach and you can feel the muscles flutter slightly under your palm.
Neal’s head drops back slightly and you run your hand back down to wrap in the waistband of his sweats and use it to pull him forward till he’s standing next to you. “Not joking, Neal.”
“Was that my name, or an order?” He lets out a shaky breath as your fingertips trace the slender hips.
“Both, neither. Mostly your name though. Maybe later. Right now, however, I wanna see you finish what you started earlier.” Your hand pulls out from under the shirt and bunches in the front of it, pulling Neal down so you can press a kiss to his parted lips. You push him back slightly, meeting his eyes. “On the bed.”
He doesn’t move for several seconds, and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even breathe, eyes going wider. The blue more vibrant than you’ve seen it, and you don’t know if it’s merely a trick of the light.
You push slightly at his hip as you stand, lowering your voice slightly. “On the bed, Neal.”
He moves across the room warily, walking backwards eyes on you until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits down hard. “With the cuffs?”
“No, we can save those for later.” He shivers, cock visibly twitching under the heavy fabric, the wet spot growing steadily larger. “Just, do what you’d normally do.”
He moves back, leaning against the pillows and you move towards the bed dragging the dining room chair behind you, and placing it at the corner, sitting down and crossing your legs stretched out in front of you, you slip your suit jacket off and loosen your tie.
Neal’s hands tremble slightly as he slides the sweats down, kicking them off and down towards the end off the bed, he pulls the shirt off in one fluid movement, and you lick your lips, noticing the way his eyes follow the movement of your tongue. His fingers twitch on his stomach, but don’t move any lower. He looks young, and he’s biting his bottom lip while he watches you, but his hand finally moves.
Sliding down his stomach and wrapping around the flush darkened skin of his cock. It’s like him, long and slender, and he slides his palm over the head to gather the pre-cum there to smooth his path back down. His head drops back, a small moan slipping free.
“How close are you?” You ask, shifting slightly as your cock swells in your trousers, the fabric pressing it into an uncomfortable position. “Talk to me, Neal.”
“Close, very close. I was close when you walked in, any closer and I probably would have come when I heard the door open. Or got the cuffs off.” He gives himself a twist on the upstroke and you file the information away for later use.
You should feel guilty about Elizabeth, you love her, you do, but she knows about Neal. How he infuriates and fascinates you in equal measure. You smirk when you think she’ll be more pissed she missed this than that you did it.
Neal’s groan drags you back to the room, and he’s dripping now, sweat on his brow and his other hand digging into the sheets. Hips thrusting into his palm as it twists and moves.
“Stop, Neal.” He doesn’t, hand moving one more stroke. “I said stop.” His hand stills and he whines, still holding himself, body trembling on the edge.
“Peter, what? Please.” His head snaps up and his eyes meet yours, a slim blue ring around blown pupils.
“Gimme the handcuffs, Neal.” You hold out a hand sitting up in the chair and uncrossing you legs, spreading them wide enough for a person to fit between. “And the tie.”
“Peter, please, so close.”
“Handcuffs and tie, Neal. Now.” He whines again, letting go of his cock, which is purpling slightly at the head, shiny and wet with pre-cum smears.
He reaches a shaking hand to the bedside table and grabs the cuffs, before grabbing the tie and thrusting them into your hands.
“On your knees, there.” You point at the space between your legs. Giving him a look that stops his argument before it even starts.
He slides from the bed and onto his knees, folding into the position as if he were made for it, the tracker clacks slightly on the wooden floor and he moves his foot slightly to get himself comfortable, hands still trembling slightly and shivers passing over his skin.
You lean forward locking a cuff around one wrist and pulling it behind his back, it’s an awkward angle but you manage to get the other one locked in, Neal’s shoulder muscles tensing as you stroke a hand up between his bound hands. Letting your fingers trail in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re far too pretty, you know this right?” Neal looks up, a small smile slipping over his face, eyes still blown.
You take the tie between your fingers and run the expensive silk through your hands before passing it around his head and tying it in a bow behind his head. “Far too pretty.” You mutter, almost to yourself.
You’re not sure if this is going to work, if Neal’s going to slip the cuffs and punch you when you try it. But it’ll be oh so worth it.
You slip a hand down the side of his face wrapping it under his jaw and stroking softly with your thumb over his cheek, he relaxes into the touch.
Looking down you can see drips making their way over the head and down the shaft of Neal’s cock and you smile.
He starts when you let go, stiffening slightly when he registers the sound of your zip being undone, but then he slumps, leaning forward slightly and seeking out your hand with his head, nuzzling slightly against you. You ruffle a hand through his hair, slipping a finger under the tie briefly to scratch slightly behind his ear.
His nuzzling continues while you free yourself, twitching in the slight chill of the air against the damp skin. And his lips seek out the head and wrap around it. Tongue lapping against the tip briefly, flicking and fluttering. He shuffles forward slightly, sitting up straighter and letting his mouth open wider to slide down farther. Tongue playing up and down the vein as his head bobs, hair falling down and brushing against your hands where it rests on your leg. You let your hands tangle in his hair, messing it up and pulling slightly, but you don’t push just hold.
Neal pushes himself however, down till the head of your cock slides into the tighter heat of his throat and it contracts briefly before he pulls back. Your hips snap forward burying yourself in his throat and he groans, shoulders dropping again as he lets you do it again.
Three, four, five thrusts and you’re coming. Fast and dirty, slumping in the seat and tightening your hands in his hair as your mouth opens on a gasp.
He pulls back when you lets him up, coughing slightly and tongue lapping at the come on his lips.
“Fuck.” You mutter, smoothing his hair back down. Petting him softly as you come down from the ceiling.
When you regain enough muscle strength to sit up again you look down, Neal’s stomach and the bottom of your trouser legs is smattered in come. You look at his face, as the traces of your come still there, at the slight tear tracks that have leaked out under the tie and you pull him towards you, kissing him hard.
Your hand pulls the tie off and you press kisses to his closed eyes, hands wiping away the tear tracks. “Pretty.” You mutter as you press a kiss to his forehead.
You stand, helping him up, but not making a move to undo the cuffs, you guide him and sit him on the edge of the bed, sitting next to him.
When he looks up at you finally, you see a smile on his face, loose, unguarded and different to his usual smirk or charm. He just looks happy.
“You know you never did answer my question. Is it the kneeling, or the handcuffs?”
Neal closes his eyes briefly, opening them and meeting yours. “Both, neither.”