Payback's A Bitch
Title: Payback’s A Bitch
Author: theatregirl7299
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Neal
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 682
Spoilers: None
Beta Credit: firesign10
Warnings: None
Summary: Never underestimate Neal’s passion for retribution…
A/N: Written for my entry in runthecon. My prompt was “ lunch break”. This story is the continuation of “The Game” verse, which starts with 5:55 and continues with Playing for the Win. While this story can stand alone for the most part, it will be infinitely more entertaining if you read the other two.
Peter had no idea how he’d wound up in this position. One moment he and Neal were checking out the renovations for the White Collar Division’s expansion to the 22nd floor while on their lunch break, the next he was handcuffed to the safety bars in the handicapped bathroom stall with his cock down Neal’s throat.
“Oh God!” Peter groaned as Neal hollowed out his cheeks and shoved his nose into Peter’s groin. “Fuck!”
Neal hummed as he swallowed, and Peter could feel Neal’s throat muscles working the head of his cock. Peter had never been deep-throated like this before, not even by MaryBeth Anderson, who all the seniors on his high school baseball team swore could suck like a Hoover.
Neal pulled off, keeping just the head of Peter’s dick in his mouth and ran running his tongue around the base. He lightly licked the bundle of nerves right under the cap, then grazed it with his lower teeth, sending electrical pulses jolting down Peter’s spine.
Peter gazed at Neal, wishing to God he could thread his hands through Neal’s hair and thrust deeper into his mouth. But he was trapped and at Neal’s mercy. All he could do was hang on for the ride.
Peter knew this was retribution for the way he’d been teasing Neal; working him up until he was a vibrating mess. Each step had brought Peter unholy satisfaction as he’d watched Neal squirm, his constant erections causing him to lose focus in meetings; miss parts of conversations; disappear for long moments, which Peter knew had to be Neal hurriedly jerking off for relief.
He knew it was evil, but he just couldn’t get over how much he enjoyed ruffling Neal’s suave exterior. How much it thrilled him to dirty Neal up.
Of course, Peter knew he’d not be able to get away with it forever - that Neal would come up with something to raise the stakes. But he didn’t think it would be something like this.
The minute the cuffs clicked around his wrists, Peter knew he was fucked. And to make things worse, they were his cuffs.
Oh, he’d protested, but his words had been silenced by the sound of his zipper, followed by the ecstatic sensation of Neal’s fist on his cock.
The wet warmth of Neal’s mouth was exactly like Peter had dreamed about; his tongue licking up the thick vein of Peter’s cock, his lips squeezing as he inched Peter’s dick deeper and deeper into his throat. Peter closed his eyes and thumped his head back against the wall.
Neal worked Peter over, teasing him relentlessly; slowing down and speeding up, keeping the rhythm and the pressure and the suction just so. Neal’s hands cupped his balls, rolling and pinching and squeezing, mixing the pain and the pleasure in equal parts until Peter had no clue where he was.
Peter was strung out, his only coherent thoughts were more and harder and want. His arousal spun up, wrapping him in layers of need and desire. Neal was doing things to him that he’d fantasized about after Elizabeth had gone to sleep. Things he’d wanted, but never had the courage to ask for.
Lightning coursed through Peter’s body and he knew he was close. “Oh God, Neal…gonna come!”
Suddenly the pressure on his cock disappeared and Peter couldn't help whining as his eyes flew open.
Neal stood in front of him with a cocky grin, his mouth swollen and pink from Peter’s dick.
“What the-?” Peter croaked. “Why’d you stop?”
Neal didn’t say anything - he just stepped away until he was right at the edge of the stall. Squatting down, he placed something on the floor.
Peter’s handcuff key.
Standing up, he grinned wider. “You may have won the battle, Peter, but you haven’t even come close to winning the war.”
The stall door swung shut behind him.
“God damn it, Neal. Get back here and uncuff me!” Peter squirmed, trying to reach the key with his foot.
“Payback’s a bitch, Peter!” was the last thing he heard before the bathroom door closed.
Fin
Author: theatregirl7299
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: Peter/Neal
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 682
Spoilers: None
Beta Credit: firesign10
Warnings: None
Summary: Never underestimate Neal’s passion for retribution…
A/N: Written for my entry in runthecon. My prompt was “ lunch break”. This story is the continuation of “The Game” verse, which starts with 5:55 and continues with Playing for the Win. While this story can stand alone for the most part, it will be infinitely more entertaining if you read the other two.
Peter had no idea how he’d wound up in this position. One moment he and Neal were checking out the renovations for the White Collar Division’s expansion to the 22nd floor while on their lunch break, the next he was handcuffed to the safety bars in the handicapped bathroom stall with his cock down Neal’s throat.
“Oh God!” Peter groaned as Neal hollowed out his cheeks and shoved his nose into Peter’s groin. “Fuck!”
Neal hummed as he swallowed, and Peter could feel Neal’s throat muscles working the head of his cock. Peter had never been deep-throated like this before, not even by MaryBeth Anderson, who all the seniors on his high school baseball team swore could suck like a Hoover.
Neal pulled off, keeping just the head of Peter’s dick in his mouth and ran running his tongue around the base. He lightly licked the bundle of nerves right under the cap, then grazed it with his lower teeth, sending electrical pulses jolting down Peter’s spine.
Peter gazed at Neal, wishing to God he could thread his hands through Neal’s hair and thrust deeper into his mouth. But he was trapped and at Neal’s mercy. All he could do was hang on for the ride.
Peter knew this was retribution for the way he’d been teasing Neal; working him up until he was a vibrating mess. Each step had brought Peter unholy satisfaction as he’d watched Neal squirm, his constant erections causing him to lose focus in meetings; miss parts of conversations; disappear for long moments, which Peter knew had to be Neal hurriedly jerking off for relief.
He knew it was evil, but he just couldn’t get over how much he enjoyed ruffling Neal’s suave exterior. How much it thrilled him to dirty Neal up.
Of course, Peter knew he’d not be able to get away with it forever - that Neal would come up with something to raise the stakes. But he didn’t think it would be something like this.
The minute the cuffs clicked around his wrists, Peter knew he was fucked. And to make things worse, they were his cuffs.
Oh, he’d protested, but his words had been silenced by the sound of his zipper, followed by the ecstatic sensation of Neal’s fist on his cock.
The wet warmth of Neal’s mouth was exactly like Peter had dreamed about; his tongue licking up the thick vein of Peter’s cock, his lips squeezing as he inched Peter’s dick deeper and deeper into his throat. Peter closed his eyes and thumped his head back against the wall.
Neal worked Peter over, teasing him relentlessly; slowing down and speeding up, keeping the rhythm and the pressure and the suction just so. Neal’s hands cupped his balls, rolling and pinching and squeezing, mixing the pain and the pleasure in equal parts until Peter had no clue where he was.
Peter was strung out, his only coherent thoughts were more and harder and want. His arousal spun up, wrapping him in layers of need and desire. Neal was doing things to him that he’d fantasized about after Elizabeth had gone to sleep. Things he’d wanted, but never had the courage to ask for.
Lightning coursed through Peter’s body and he knew he was close. “Oh God, Neal…gonna come!”
Suddenly the pressure on his cock disappeared and Peter couldn't help whining as his eyes flew open.
Neal stood in front of him with a cocky grin, his mouth swollen and pink from Peter’s dick.
“What the-?” Peter croaked. “Why’d you stop?”
Neal didn’t say anything - he just stepped away until he was right at the edge of the stall. Squatting down, he placed something on the floor.
Peter’s handcuff key.
Standing up, he grinned wider. “You may have won the battle, Peter, but you haven’t even come close to winning the war.”
The stall door swung shut behind him.
“God damn it, Neal. Get back here and uncuff me!” Peter squirmed, trying to reach the key with his foot.
“Payback’s a bitch, Peter!” was the last thing he heard before the bathroom door closed.
Fin