Fic: The Devil You Know (3/25)
Title: The Devil You Know
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 4,000 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
Neal quickly realized that Peter did know about him and Elizabeth. In fact, the whole thing seemed to add fresh energy to their love life.
The next morning, Peter's alarm went off at six as usual, but he didn't get up. Neal listened for several minutes for the sound of the master bedroom door opening, or Peter's footsteps on the stairs.
Finally, Neal got up and crept downstairs. As he passed the master bedroom, he heard soft moans from inside. Shaking his head in disbelief, he quietly went down to the first floor.
Since he was up, he might as well make some breakfast. He was getting sick of cereal. He found some fresh eggs in the refrigerator and, hoping they wouldn't mind him using them up, prepared to make scrambled eggs.
Eventually, he heard the shower running. Peter rushed downstairs at seven-fifteen, still buttoning his sleeves as he came into the kitchen. His eyes brightened when he saw the eggs.
"Breakfast! Good job, Neal. This saves me time. I'm running late."
Neal raised his eyebrows. "I heard."
Peter glanced at him, but didn't seem to care what Neal had heard.
Peter ate standing at the kitchen counter. Neal crossed his arms and watched as Peter shoveled his food in his mouth and gulped down a glass of orange juice.
Elizabeth came down a few minutes later. Her hair, still damp from the shower, was pinned back.
Peter was just finishing his food. After he put the dishes in the sink, Elizabeth came over, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him.
"I wish you could call in sick," she said.
Peter seemed to seriously consider it for a moment. Then his eyebrows knit together and he got a regretful look in his eye. "I know. But I can't. It's this case, and-"
Elizabeth put a finger on his lips, hushing him. "I know. You're just going to have to make it up to me when you get home."
Neal retreated as they started kissing. It was one thing to have to listen to them. Seeing it was a whole other matter. He decided to get out of there before they decided to go for round three on the kitchen island.
Over the next few days, sex with Elizabeth became a regular thing. It was a mostly welcome diversion.
They never had intercourse. That, apparently, was something she preferred to do with Peter. But invariably, she would take time in the afternoon or early evening to take Neal upstairs and have him finger her or eat her out. He quickly learned what she liked, and how to bring her to orgasm.
Since she was pleased with him, she usually let him get off afterward, if there was time. She seemed to like watching him jerk off, and sometimes she would do the job herself, putting him at the mercy of her deft hand.
Peter didn't openly acknowledge what was going on, but he seemed aware of it. At dinner, he and Elizabeth would share glances and smiles, and Neal would catch Peter looking at him with an approving look.
Finally, one evening, Peter said something. Neal was sitting on the living room floor, and Peter was on the sofa watching TV. Elizabeth had run upstairs, leaving them alone.
"I'm glad to hear you're been good for El," Peter said.
"Thanks, I guess," Neal said, unsure of what else to say to that.
"We're both pleased. Keep it up."
Gradually, as the awkwardness started to wear off, Neal was a little flattered. Getting attention, and being desirable, never failed to please him. Even Peter's voyeuristic enjoyment of the proceedings didn't bother him much. Peter could appreciate Neal's sexual abilities from afar all he wanted, as long as he kept his distance.
And if they were pleased, that meant more privileges. They were already letting him take Satchmo out for walks by himself. The more freedom of movement he had, the better.
* * *
On Saturday, he was reading the newspaper in the kitchen when the front door opened. He frowned. Elizabeth had already left for the gallery opening, and wouldn't be back until late. Peter wasn't due home for another couple hours. Neal savored times like these when he had the house to himself, so the unexpected intrusion was unwelcome.
He went out into the living room and saw it was Peter who had come home. Peter looked exhausted as he took off his coat.
"You're home early," Neal said, barely containing his disappointment.
Peter gave him a tired smile. "We just closed that counterfeiting case. I've been up since five AM, but the sting worked."
"I guess giving up your Saturday was worth it, then."
Peter looked at his watch. "Could be worse-it's only three o'clock. Not even dinner time yet."
"I would've thought they'd need you to stick around. Tie up loose ends, type reports...."
"I've already done everything I can until Monday. They can do without me for a bit. Hey, I think I'm going to get in the shower."
"Towels are in the dryer," Neal said. "Should be done in a minute, though."
"That's fine. Just bring one up to me."
"No problem."
Neal went into the laundry room to get the towels. He set most of them aside to be put away later, and took one upstairs.
The bathroom door was closed, and the shower was already running. He knocked, and Peter said, "Come on in."
Neal cracked open the door and peeked inside. Peter was already in the shower, with the curtain closed. Neal stepped in and laid the towel on the counter by the sink.
"Anything else?" he asked.
The curtain opened and Peter looked out. Neal carefully avoided looking any lower than his chest.
"No, that's great. I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes."
Neal turned and left.
Peter came downstairs fifteen minutes later, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. He asked for a beer and settled down in front of the TV.
When Neal brought him the beer, Peter said, "Stick around. Sit down. I've been so busy on this case I feel like we haven't seen each other much." He opened the beer and held it out to Neal. "Here, would you like a sip?"
"No, thanks," he said, making a face.
He'd never cared for beer. It figured that was the only alcohol Peter offered him.
Peter shrugged and took a drink. He picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. Neal sat on the floor.
"Man, I'm beat," Peter said.
"I guess that's the glamorous life of an FBI agent."
"No, but see, this is what it feels like to do good, rewarding work."
"I know what hard work feels like."
"No, your idea of hard work is not getting caught. I don't think you have any idea what truly rewarding work is like."
"I'm sure putting criminals into lives of slavery is very rewarding."
Peter narrowed his eyes at him. "It's good to see you in a collar, yeah." He took a drink of beer but kept his eye on Neal. "You're in a bit of a mood today. What is it? Are you upset Elizabeth didn't take you to the opening with her?"
"I'm not in a mood," Neal said. If anyone was in a mood, it was Peter.
But Peter was right: Neal had been hoping he'd get to go to the opening.
He may have liked Elizabeth's attention, but he had no delusions about it. They had fun, but when it came down to it, Elizabeth was one of his owners. They both wanted something from the other; she wanted his service, and he wanted her to make his life bearable. Though he enjoyed the sex, it was hardly fair for it to be its own reward. He deserved something for his efforts.
Peter directed his attention back to the TV. Finally, he settled on a dull documentary about Vikings. He sat back and put his stocking feet up on the coffee table.
During a commercial, he said, "A foot rub would feel good right now."
Neal raised his eyebrows. "I bet it would."
Peter frowned. "Let me rephrase that: a foot rub from my personal slave would feel good."
Neal got up with a huff. He knelt by Peter's legs and started to rub his left foot.
Peter sighed contentedly. "That's great, Neal. You have nice hands, you know that?"
Neal knew it. He'd honed his hands through sketching, painting, and forging. Not doing dishes and giving foot rubs.
"By the way," Peter said, hesitantly. "I thought I'd give you a heads up. In a couple weeks, we're going to have a man over to appraise you."
Neal raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't interested in selling me."
"We're not. It's for insurance purposes."
"Sounds like fun," Neal muttered.
"It'll just take an hour, tops. But listen, I'm telling you so you can be prepared. The appraiser will assess your behavior, not just your body. So you'll need to be very good."
Neal couldn't suppress a small smile. "You want me to con him."
"No, I didn't say anything about conning anyone. I said to be on your best behavior."
"So, basically, you want me to con him."
"Neal!"
"It's okay. You can ask me to. I don't mind, really."
Peter sighed. "Yeah, I bet you don't."
What did Peter expect? Neal managed to get away with his "best behavior," but he knew it wouldn't pass muster in any official inspection. If Peter wanted a textbook slave, he should have bought someone else.
Peter was only half paying attention to the TV, so Neal said, "So, this case you closed today. Counterfeit currency, right?"
Peter perked up. "That’s right. We've been chasing these guys for a couple months. We finally got a lead on the paper last week."
Neal relaxed slightly as Peter told him about the case. He listened intently to how the FBI figured out the identities of the counterfeiters and set up a sting. This, Neal could relate to, even if he'd only experienced investigations from the opposite side. It was actually interesting to hear a different perspective on it.
He massaged Peter's feet until Peter finished telling the story. Then, Peter set his beer bottle on the coffee table and pulled his legs back, putting his feet on the floor.
"That was good," he said. "Thank you, Neal. It's good to have some one-on-one time like this."
He reached down and touched Neal's cheek. Neal blinked, startled, but didn't react right away. Peter brushed his thumb against Neal's lips and Neal jerked back, sitting on his heels just out of Peter's reach.
He expected Peter to admonish him, and didn't care. But Peter didn't say anything. He simply sat back and unzipped his pants.
Neal's eyes widened when he realized what was happening. He immediately started thinking of ways he could talk himself out of this.
Noticing Neal's expression, Peter said, "Don't look so surprised. I've told you what to expect from day one."
Neal couldn't dispute that. But could anyone blame him for hoping Peter had changed his mind? Or thinking that there'd be a little more warning, more build-up?
Peter lifted his hips and pulled his pants and underwear down a few inches. He pulled out his cock and balls and motioned for Neal to come closer.
"Move the coffee table back so you can kneel between my legs."
As Neal obeyed, he said, "I thought you were tired."
"Not too tired to enjoy a nice blowjob."
Neal could feel the heat in his face. He wasn't one to blush visibly, and he hoped that was true now.
"I'm supposed to be doing laundry," Neal said. "There are more loads to do."
"There's plenty of time. Stop stalling."
Reluctantly, Neal sank to his knees between Peter's spread thighs. He looked at the cock in front of his face with repulsed fascination.
"Is this supposed to be payback?" Neal asked. "'Cause if it is, I'm surprised at your notion of justice."
Peter's brow furrowed. "No. No, this has never been about revenge. You know that."
"Do I? 'Cause I could see you getting off to the thought of putting me in this position. Bet you thought about it the whole time you were chasing me."
That got a reaction from Peter. His breath hitched and he inched his legs further apart.
"Not the whole time. But-" he brushed Neal's hair out of his face "-this isn't revenge, Neal. I don't want to punish you-being enslaved is your punishment, and you'd be a slave whether I bought you or not." He lowered his hand and started playing with the collar around Neal's neck. "But yeah, I've thought about having you like this. Using that pretty mouth of yours."
Neal frowned. He'd suspected that this was about revenge, deep down. But he didn't think Peter was twisted enough to pull off this brand of retribution. His touch as he fingered Neal's collar was too tender and intimate. The lust in his eyes was too genuine. There was no indication that he thought he was making Neal do anything horrible.
Instead, maybe it was about dominance. Catch an infamous criminal and then own him, completely. They'd spent three years playing cat and mouse, and now Peter was set to enjoy his prey.
In a way, it made it easier to think of it like that. If this was supposed to be Peter's idea of a punishment, that implied Neal had lost. But he was used to being in a power struggle with Peter Burke, and Neal knew all too well that sometimes things could take a turn for the worse. He'd left the luxury of the Palazzo Sasso when he heard the feds were onto him. He lost out on who knows how much money when the FBI learned how to identify his forged bonds.
He'd managed then, and he could claw his way out of this ordeal and regain what he'd lost. Rationally, he knew this was true even if he had to suck Peter's dick and tolerate his display of dominance.
In reality, it wasn't that simple. He went back to looking at Peter's groin with trepidation.
Perhaps noticing Neal's anxiety, Peter said, "Would it be easier if we treated this impersonally? Because as long as you're a slave, we're going to treat you like one. And this is the bare minimum a slave needs to be willing to do for his master."
Peter's voice had lost the hint of lust and was all business. Hooking a finger under Neal's collar, he pulled Neal's head down before releasing him. Neal didn't dare move back.
"I'm sorry if you don't like this as well as being with El," Peter said. "But it's just one of those things you have to get used to. This is your first time?"
Neal nodded.
"I don't expect you to be an expert at it. I'm sure you've gotten a few blowjobs in your time. Just do what you like. And no teeth, or we'll have a problem. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Neal said, but he didn't move.
"You can use your hands if you want."
Neal swallowed. "Yeah." He still didn't move.
Peter started to grow impatient. With an annoyed sigh, he said, "If I don't get to use your mouth, maybe I can find another hole that'll work...."
That was enough to spur Neal into action. Resting his left hand on Peter's thigh, he gently picked up Peter's cock with his right. It was strange, holding another man's penis, but not overly unpleasant. He briefly hoped that Peter might be satisfied with a hand job. Maybe Neal could get him to come like this.
But after a couple minutes of gentle stroking, Peter began to get impatient again.
"Enough of that. It's time you started using your mouth," he said.
Neal looked up and glared at him. "I'm trying, okay?"
"Trying what, exactly? I don't see you trying to give a blowjob."
"The TV's distracting me. Couldn't we go upstairs?"
At least Elizabeth had the poise to take him to bed with her. She made some effort to make their time together sexy. Even if Neal were attracted to Peter, he didn't think there'd be anything sexy about blowing him while a narrator droned on about Vikings in the background.
With a sigh, Peter lifted the remote and lowered the volume on the TV. "Is that better?"
"Much," Neal said, dryly.
There was no avoiding it. Neal held Peter's cock to his lips and tentatively touched the head with his tongue. Then, deciding it was best not to put off the inevitable, he took the cock into his mouth.
He must have done it too fast, or too deep, because he immediately pulled back and started coughing. Peter leaned forward and patted his back.
"Careful. Take it slow. Don't choke yourself."
When Neal was ready, he tried again. This time, he ran his tongue up and down Peter's shaft before he covered his teeth with his lips and tried a few shallow thrusts.
Peter ran his fingers through Neal's hair. "That's good. See? You made such a fuss about this, but it's no big deal. Lick my balls, too. I like that."
Neal did. It could have been worse, he supposed. Peter was fresh from the shower, and while he kept his hand on Neal's head, he didn't hold him down or control his movements.
Neal considered doing a purposely bad job. But he wanted to be done more than he wanted to spite Peter, and he had no idea how long Peter would draw this out.
It was a strange feeling to have Peter's cock and balls against his tongue. To distract himself, he thought about the Chagall forgery he did a couple years back, which was still hanging in a museum somewhere, undiscovered. He thought about the original painting, which was safely tucked away in one of his hiding places.
As it turned out, Neal might not have been able to drag out the blowjob if he'd wanted to. Peter came a couple minutes later when Neal had his cock between his lips. Neal felt Peter's fingers tighten in his hair, and then a few spurts of warm come filled his mouth.
He grimaced at the salty taste, and his first instinct was to try to spit it out. But Peter looked down at him and said, "Make sure you swallow. You're gonna need to get used to it."
After Neal swallowed, Peter made him lick the head of his cock clean before he stuffed it back in his underwear.
As he zipped up his pants, he said, "That was...acceptable."
"Wow, I'm flattered," Neal said. His voice cracked. His throat was still raw from coughing, and from the invasion of Peter's cock.
"Well, I'm not going to sugarcoat it. You did all right, but not great. You need a lot of practice. Frankly, I expected a little better from the great Neal Caffrey, even if it was your first time."
Neal's face fell at the words "a lot of practice."
Peter gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Hey, cowboy up. There's nothing to sulk about. Maybe I should have let you take some of your Valium first. I think there are a couple doses left."
Neal glared at him. "I'm not taking drugs to make things easier on you."
"Fine, then forget that. Tell you what: I was thinking we could order a pizza tonight, since El won't be back until late. That sound good to you?"
"Do whatever you want."
If Peter was trying to give him a treat with the pizza, it didn't work. Though, Neal was secretly pleased not to have to do as many dishes that evening. Peter invited him to watch TV with him some more, but Neal said he was tired. After he was done doing laundry, he went upstairs and closed himself in his room for the night.
Later, after midnight, he heard footsteps outside his door. Recognizing the sound of high heels, he knew it was Elizabeth. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, sketching. He'd been working on a crude portrait of Kate, the best he could do with the dull pencil he had. When he heard Elizabeth, he covered the portrait with another sheet of paper, which contained only a study of his left hand.
Elizabeth cracked open the door.
"Mind if I come in?"
"No, come on in."
She stepped inside. She was still wearing the black cocktail dress she'd left in, and she was carrying a small paper bag.
"How was the opening?" he asked.
"It was good. Maybe next time, I can bring you with me. I brought you home a couple appetizers, if you're interested."
She set the bag on the nightstand. Neal peeked inside and saw some small packets of aluminum foil.
"Thanks."
She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Peter said you've been holed up in here all night. He doesn't think you're too happy right now."
"Did he tell you why?"
Elizabeth nodded.
"So, he sent you up here to check on me?"
"Would you believe me if I said he's a little concerned?"
Concerned. That was rich. Neal scoffed.
"Sometimes it's hard for us to understand what a big adjustment this is for you. But we do want the best for you." Seeing his skeptical look she added, "The best you can have, under the circumstances."
She kissed his forehead. "You'll see: it's not going to be that bad. I told Peter to be patient with you."
When she left, he ate the still-warm appetizers.
Though Peter's earlier comments about his skill had annoyed him, he thought about purposely underachieving. If he gave bad blowjobs, Peter was bound to give up on him eventually.
* * *
As it turned out, Peter had little trouble finding time in his schedule to "practice" with Neal. He liked a blowjob now and then when he came home from work.
At first, it was uncomfortable. It made Neal's jaw sore, and it was hard not to gag. But Peter was infuriatingly patient.
Neal focused on giving the most tedious, least-inspired blowjobs he could manage. In a way, it would have been simpler to give in. When Neal found himself on his knees two or three times a week, it was tempting to get it over with quickly.
But his pride wouldn't let him. He tried to tell himself that a little extra discomfort was worth it in the long run, if it made a point.
Peter showed no sign of giving up, however. He merely seemed unsure about how to handle Neal's resistance to training.
He quickly figured out that appealing to Neal's non-existent sense of duty wasn't working. Neal didn't care if having sex with Peter was something he was supposed to do. He didn't care if it was something Peter was legally entitled to. When had Neal cared about following the rules for their own sake?
Then Peter tried coaxing and manipulation.
"I know you can do better," Peter said one evening, clicking his tongue as he zipped up his pants. "I would've thought Neal Caffrey would take more pride in his work than this."
"I guess you've found something I'm not good at," Neal said. He shifted on the carpeted floor of the master bedroom. He could hear Elizabeth downstairs, preparing dinner.
Peter murmured and petted Neal's hair. "It's a shame you have to be so stubborn. I think you and I could have fun together if you cooperated."
But after a couple weeks of no improvement, Peter's patience started to wane.
Once, to Neal's surprise, his efforts (or lack thereof) earned him a sharp tug on his hair.
"Focus," Peter said.
Neal's scalp stung and he fought the urge to rub it. With a stunt like this, Peter was lucky Neal hadn't bitten down in surprise. Actually, he wished he'd thought to do that. It was too late to pass it off as a reflex now.
Instead, he let Peter's cock slip out of his mouth and, even though it hadn't hurt that much, said, "Ow."
Peter's frown wavered. "Your mind was wandering," he said defensively. "You weren't even trying." He sighed. "Neal, I've tried to be patient with you. I knew this was going to take work, but I thought you'd be past the mechanics by now."
Neal, of course, was having little trouble focusing. He simply wasn't focused on what Peter wanted.
He knew that displeasing Peter was a risk, and that it would make his life harder before there was any hope of making it better. Neal had never been that good at cons that forced him to make sacrifices. He liked his comfort and happiness too much.
But he didn't see much chance of "comfort" in being Peter's sex slave.
He'd take his chances.
Chapter 4
This entry was originally posted at http://citrinesunset.dreamwidth.org/111698.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 4,000 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
Neal quickly realized that Peter did know about him and Elizabeth. In fact, the whole thing seemed to add fresh energy to their love life.
The next morning, Peter's alarm went off at six as usual, but he didn't get up. Neal listened for several minutes for the sound of the master bedroom door opening, or Peter's footsteps on the stairs.
Finally, Neal got up and crept downstairs. As he passed the master bedroom, he heard soft moans from inside. Shaking his head in disbelief, he quietly went down to the first floor.
Since he was up, he might as well make some breakfast. He was getting sick of cereal. He found some fresh eggs in the refrigerator and, hoping they wouldn't mind him using them up, prepared to make scrambled eggs.
Eventually, he heard the shower running. Peter rushed downstairs at seven-fifteen, still buttoning his sleeves as he came into the kitchen. His eyes brightened when he saw the eggs.
"Breakfast! Good job, Neal. This saves me time. I'm running late."
Neal raised his eyebrows. "I heard."
Peter glanced at him, but didn't seem to care what Neal had heard.
Peter ate standing at the kitchen counter. Neal crossed his arms and watched as Peter shoveled his food in his mouth and gulped down a glass of orange juice.
Elizabeth came down a few minutes later. Her hair, still damp from the shower, was pinned back.
Peter was just finishing his food. After he put the dishes in the sink, Elizabeth came over, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him.
"I wish you could call in sick," she said.
Peter seemed to seriously consider it for a moment. Then his eyebrows knit together and he got a regretful look in his eye. "I know. But I can't. It's this case, and-"
Elizabeth put a finger on his lips, hushing him. "I know. You're just going to have to make it up to me when you get home."
Neal retreated as they started kissing. It was one thing to have to listen to them. Seeing it was a whole other matter. He decided to get out of there before they decided to go for round three on the kitchen island.
Over the next few days, sex with Elizabeth became a regular thing. It was a mostly welcome diversion.
They never had intercourse. That, apparently, was something she preferred to do with Peter. But invariably, she would take time in the afternoon or early evening to take Neal upstairs and have him finger her or eat her out. He quickly learned what she liked, and how to bring her to orgasm.
Since she was pleased with him, she usually let him get off afterward, if there was time. She seemed to like watching him jerk off, and sometimes she would do the job herself, putting him at the mercy of her deft hand.
Peter didn't openly acknowledge what was going on, but he seemed aware of it. At dinner, he and Elizabeth would share glances and smiles, and Neal would catch Peter looking at him with an approving look.
Finally, one evening, Peter said something. Neal was sitting on the living room floor, and Peter was on the sofa watching TV. Elizabeth had run upstairs, leaving them alone.
"I'm glad to hear you're been good for El," Peter said.
"Thanks, I guess," Neal said, unsure of what else to say to that.
"We're both pleased. Keep it up."
Gradually, as the awkwardness started to wear off, Neal was a little flattered. Getting attention, and being desirable, never failed to please him. Even Peter's voyeuristic enjoyment of the proceedings didn't bother him much. Peter could appreciate Neal's sexual abilities from afar all he wanted, as long as he kept his distance.
And if they were pleased, that meant more privileges. They were already letting him take Satchmo out for walks by himself. The more freedom of movement he had, the better.
* * *
On Saturday, he was reading the newspaper in the kitchen when the front door opened. He frowned. Elizabeth had already left for the gallery opening, and wouldn't be back until late. Peter wasn't due home for another couple hours. Neal savored times like these when he had the house to himself, so the unexpected intrusion was unwelcome.
He went out into the living room and saw it was Peter who had come home. Peter looked exhausted as he took off his coat.
"You're home early," Neal said, barely containing his disappointment.
Peter gave him a tired smile. "We just closed that counterfeiting case. I've been up since five AM, but the sting worked."
"I guess giving up your Saturday was worth it, then."
Peter looked at his watch. "Could be worse-it's only three o'clock. Not even dinner time yet."
"I would've thought they'd need you to stick around. Tie up loose ends, type reports...."
"I've already done everything I can until Monday. They can do without me for a bit. Hey, I think I'm going to get in the shower."
"Towels are in the dryer," Neal said. "Should be done in a minute, though."
"That's fine. Just bring one up to me."
"No problem."
Neal went into the laundry room to get the towels. He set most of them aside to be put away later, and took one upstairs.
The bathroom door was closed, and the shower was already running. He knocked, and Peter said, "Come on in."
Neal cracked open the door and peeked inside. Peter was already in the shower, with the curtain closed. Neal stepped in and laid the towel on the counter by the sink.
"Anything else?" he asked.
The curtain opened and Peter looked out. Neal carefully avoided looking any lower than his chest.
"No, that's great. I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes."
Neal turned and left.
Peter came downstairs fifteen minutes later, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. He asked for a beer and settled down in front of the TV.
When Neal brought him the beer, Peter said, "Stick around. Sit down. I've been so busy on this case I feel like we haven't seen each other much." He opened the beer and held it out to Neal. "Here, would you like a sip?"
"No, thanks," he said, making a face.
He'd never cared for beer. It figured that was the only alcohol Peter offered him.
Peter shrugged and took a drink. He picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. Neal sat on the floor.
"Man, I'm beat," Peter said.
"I guess that's the glamorous life of an FBI agent."
"No, but see, this is what it feels like to do good, rewarding work."
"I know what hard work feels like."
"No, your idea of hard work is not getting caught. I don't think you have any idea what truly rewarding work is like."
"I'm sure putting criminals into lives of slavery is very rewarding."
Peter narrowed his eyes at him. "It's good to see you in a collar, yeah." He took a drink of beer but kept his eye on Neal. "You're in a bit of a mood today. What is it? Are you upset Elizabeth didn't take you to the opening with her?"
"I'm not in a mood," Neal said. If anyone was in a mood, it was Peter.
But Peter was right: Neal had been hoping he'd get to go to the opening.
He may have liked Elizabeth's attention, but he had no delusions about it. They had fun, but when it came down to it, Elizabeth was one of his owners. They both wanted something from the other; she wanted his service, and he wanted her to make his life bearable. Though he enjoyed the sex, it was hardly fair for it to be its own reward. He deserved something for his efforts.
Peter directed his attention back to the TV. Finally, he settled on a dull documentary about Vikings. He sat back and put his stocking feet up on the coffee table.
During a commercial, he said, "A foot rub would feel good right now."
Neal raised his eyebrows. "I bet it would."
Peter frowned. "Let me rephrase that: a foot rub from my personal slave would feel good."
Neal got up with a huff. He knelt by Peter's legs and started to rub his left foot.
Peter sighed contentedly. "That's great, Neal. You have nice hands, you know that?"
Neal knew it. He'd honed his hands through sketching, painting, and forging. Not doing dishes and giving foot rubs.
"By the way," Peter said, hesitantly. "I thought I'd give you a heads up. In a couple weeks, we're going to have a man over to appraise you."
Neal raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't interested in selling me."
"We're not. It's for insurance purposes."
"Sounds like fun," Neal muttered.
"It'll just take an hour, tops. But listen, I'm telling you so you can be prepared. The appraiser will assess your behavior, not just your body. So you'll need to be very good."
Neal couldn't suppress a small smile. "You want me to con him."
"No, I didn't say anything about conning anyone. I said to be on your best behavior."
"So, basically, you want me to con him."
"Neal!"
"It's okay. You can ask me to. I don't mind, really."
Peter sighed. "Yeah, I bet you don't."
What did Peter expect? Neal managed to get away with his "best behavior," but he knew it wouldn't pass muster in any official inspection. If Peter wanted a textbook slave, he should have bought someone else.
Peter was only half paying attention to the TV, so Neal said, "So, this case you closed today. Counterfeit currency, right?"
Peter perked up. "That’s right. We've been chasing these guys for a couple months. We finally got a lead on the paper last week."
Neal relaxed slightly as Peter told him about the case. He listened intently to how the FBI figured out the identities of the counterfeiters and set up a sting. This, Neal could relate to, even if he'd only experienced investigations from the opposite side. It was actually interesting to hear a different perspective on it.
He massaged Peter's feet until Peter finished telling the story. Then, Peter set his beer bottle on the coffee table and pulled his legs back, putting his feet on the floor.
"That was good," he said. "Thank you, Neal. It's good to have some one-on-one time like this."
He reached down and touched Neal's cheek. Neal blinked, startled, but didn't react right away. Peter brushed his thumb against Neal's lips and Neal jerked back, sitting on his heels just out of Peter's reach.
He expected Peter to admonish him, and didn't care. But Peter didn't say anything. He simply sat back and unzipped his pants.
Neal's eyes widened when he realized what was happening. He immediately started thinking of ways he could talk himself out of this.
Noticing Neal's expression, Peter said, "Don't look so surprised. I've told you what to expect from day one."
Neal couldn't dispute that. But could anyone blame him for hoping Peter had changed his mind? Or thinking that there'd be a little more warning, more build-up?
Peter lifted his hips and pulled his pants and underwear down a few inches. He pulled out his cock and balls and motioned for Neal to come closer.
"Move the coffee table back so you can kneel between my legs."
As Neal obeyed, he said, "I thought you were tired."
"Not too tired to enjoy a nice blowjob."
Neal could feel the heat in his face. He wasn't one to blush visibly, and he hoped that was true now.
"I'm supposed to be doing laundry," Neal said. "There are more loads to do."
"There's plenty of time. Stop stalling."
Reluctantly, Neal sank to his knees between Peter's spread thighs. He looked at the cock in front of his face with repulsed fascination.
"Is this supposed to be payback?" Neal asked. "'Cause if it is, I'm surprised at your notion of justice."
Peter's brow furrowed. "No. No, this has never been about revenge. You know that."
"Do I? 'Cause I could see you getting off to the thought of putting me in this position. Bet you thought about it the whole time you were chasing me."
That got a reaction from Peter. His breath hitched and he inched his legs further apart.
"Not the whole time. But-" he brushed Neal's hair out of his face "-this isn't revenge, Neal. I don't want to punish you-being enslaved is your punishment, and you'd be a slave whether I bought you or not." He lowered his hand and started playing with the collar around Neal's neck. "But yeah, I've thought about having you like this. Using that pretty mouth of yours."
Neal frowned. He'd suspected that this was about revenge, deep down. But he didn't think Peter was twisted enough to pull off this brand of retribution. His touch as he fingered Neal's collar was too tender and intimate. The lust in his eyes was too genuine. There was no indication that he thought he was making Neal do anything horrible.
Instead, maybe it was about dominance. Catch an infamous criminal and then own him, completely. They'd spent three years playing cat and mouse, and now Peter was set to enjoy his prey.
In a way, it made it easier to think of it like that. If this was supposed to be Peter's idea of a punishment, that implied Neal had lost. But he was used to being in a power struggle with Peter Burke, and Neal knew all too well that sometimes things could take a turn for the worse. He'd left the luxury of the Palazzo Sasso when he heard the feds were onto him. He lost out on who knows how much money when the FBI learned how to identify his forged bonds.
He'd managed then, and he could claw his way out of this ordeal and regain what he'd lost. Rationally, he knew this was true even if he had to suck Peter's dick and tolerate his display of dominance.
In reality, it wasn't that simple. He went back to looking at Peter's groin with trepidation.
Perhaps noticing Neal's anxiety, Peter said, "Would it be easier if we treated this impersonally? Because as long as you're a slave, we're going to treat you like one. And this is the bare minimum a slave needs to be willing to do for his master."
Peter's voice had lost the hint of lust and was all business. Hooking a finger under Neal's collar, he pulled Neal's head down before releasing him. Neal didn't dare move back.
"I'm sorry if you don't like this as well as being with El," Peter said. "But it's just one of those things you have to get used to. This is your first time?"
Neal nodded.
"I don't expect you to be an expert at it. I'm sure you've gotten a few blowjobs in your time. Just do what you like. And no teeth, or we'll have a problem. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Neal said, but he didn't move.
"You can use your hands if you want."
Neal swallowed. "Yeah." He still didn't move.
Peter started to grow impatient. With an annoyed sigh, he said, "If I don't get to use your mouth, maybe I can find another hole that'll work...."
That was enough to spur Neal into action. Resting his left hand on Peter's thigh, he gently picked up Peter's cock with his right. It was strange, holding another man's penis, but not overly unpleasant. He briefly hoped that Peter might be satisfied with a hand job. Maybe Neal could get him to come like this.
But after a couple minutes of gentle stroking, Peter began to get impatient again.
"Enough of that. It's time you started using your mouth," he said.
Neal looked up and glared at him. "I'm trying, okay?"
"Trying what, exactly? I don't see you trying to give a blowjob."
"The TV's distracting me. Couldn't we go upstairs?"
At least Elizabeth had the poise to take him to bed with her. She made some effort to make their time together sexy. Even if Neal were attracted to Peter, he didn't think there'd be anything sexy about blowing him while a narrator droned on about Vikings in the background.
With a sigh, Peter lifted the remote and lowered the volume on the TV. "Is that better?"
"Much," Neal said, dryly.
There was no avoiding it. Neal held Peter's cock to his lips and tentatively touched the head with his tongue. Then, deciding it was best not to put off the inevitable, he took the cock into his mouth.
He must have done it too fast, or too deep, because he immediately pulled back and started coughing. Peter leaned forward and patted his back.
"Careful. Take it slow. Don't choke yourself."
When Neal was ready, he tried again. This time, he ran his tongue up and down Peter's shaft before he covered his teeth with his lips and tried a few shallow thrusts.
Peter ran his fingers through Neal's hair. "That's good. See? You made such a fuss about this, but it's no big deal. Lick my balls, too. I like that."
Neal did. It could have been worse, he supposed. Peter was fresh from the shower, and while he kept his hand on Neal's head, he didn't hold him down or control his movements.
Neal considered doing a purposely bad job. But he wanted to be done more than he wanted to spite Peter, and he had no idea how long Peter would draw this out.
It was a strange feeling to have Peter's cock and balls against his tongue. To distract himself, he thought about the Chagall forgery he did a couple years back, which was still hanging in a museum somewhere, undiscovered. He thought about the original painting, which was safely tucked away in one of his hiding places.
As it turned out, Neal might not have been able to drag out the blowjob if he'd wanted to. Peter came a couple minutes later when Neal had his cock between his lips. Neal felt Peter's fingers tighten in his hair, and then a few spurts of warm come filled his mouth.
He grimaced at the salty taste, and his first instinct was to try to spit it out. But Peter looked down at him and said, "Make sure you swallow. You're gonna need to get used to it."
After Neal swallowed, Peter made him lick the head of his cock clean before he stuffed it back in his underwear.
As he zipped up his pants, he said, "That was...acceptable."
"Wow, I'm flattered," Neal said. His voice cracked. His throat was still raw from coughing, and from the invasion of Peter's cock.
"Well, I'm not going to sugarcoat it. You did all right, but not great. You need a lot of practice. Frankly, I expected a little better from the great Neal Caffrey, even if it was your first time."
Neal's face fell at the words "a lot of practice."
Peter gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Hey, cowboy up. There's nothing to sulk about. Maybe I should have let you take some of your Valium first. I think there are a couple doses left."
Neal glared at him. "I'm not taking drugs to make things easier on you."
"Fine, then forget that. Tell you what: I was thinking we could order a pizza tonight, since El won't be back until late. That sound good to you?"
"Do whatever you want."
If Peter was trying to give him a treat with the pizza, it didn't work. Though, Neal was secretly pleased not to have to do as many dishes that evening. Peter invited him to watch TV with him some more, but Neal said he was tired. After he was done doing laundry, he went upstairs and closed himself in his room for the night.
Later, after midnight, he heard footsteps outside his door. Recognizing the sound of high heels, he knew it was Elizabeth. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, sketching. He'd been working on a crude portrait of Kate, the best he could do with the dull pencil he had. When he heard Elizabeth, he covered the portrait with another sheet of paper, which contained only a study of his left hand.
Elizabeth cracked open the door.
"Mind if I come in?"
"No, come on in."
She stepped inside. She was still wearing the black cocktail dress she'd left in, and she was carrying a small paper bag.
"How was the opening?" he asked.
"It was good. Maybe next time, I can bring you with me. I brought you home a couple appetizers, if you're interested."
She set the bag on the nightstand. Neal peeked inside and saw some small packets of aluminum foil.
"Thanks."
She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Peter said you've been holed up in here all night. He doesn't think you're too happy right now."
"Did he tell you why?"
Elizabeth nodded.
"So, he sent you up here to check on me?"
"Would you believe me if I said he's a little concerned?"
Concerned. That was rich. Neal scoffed.
"Sometimes it's hard for us to understand what a big adjustment this is for you. But we do want the best for you." Seeing his skeptical look she added, "The best you can have, under the circumstances."
She kissed his forehead. "You'll see: it's not going to be that bad. I told Peter to be patient with you."
When she left, he ate the still-warm appetizers.
Though Peter's earlier comments about his skill had annoyed him, he thought about purposely underachieving. If he gave bad blowjobs, Peter was bound to give up on him eventually.
* * *
As it turned out, Peter had little trouble finding time in his schedule to "practice" with Neal. He liked a blowjob now and then when he came home from work.
At first, it was uncomfortable. It made Neal's jaw sore, and it was hard not to gag. But Peter was infuriatingly patient.
Neal focused on giving the most tedious, least-inspired blowjobs he could manage. In a way, it would have been simpler to give in. When Neal found himself on his knees two or three times a week, it was tempting to get it over with quickly.
But his pride wouldn't let him. He tried to tell himself that a little extra discomfort was worth it in the long run, if it made a point.
Peter showed no sign of giving up, however. He merely seemed unsure about how to handle Neal's resistance to training.
He quickly figured out that appealing to Neal's non-existent sense of duty wasn't working. Neal didn't care if having sex with Peter was something he was supposed to do. He didn't care if it was something Peter was legally entitled to. When had Neal cared about following the rules for their own sake?
Then Peter tried coaxing and manipulation.
"I know you can do better," Peter said one evening, clicking his tongue as he zipped up his pants. "I would've thought Neal Caffrey would take more pride in his work than this."
"I guess you've found something I'm not good at," Neal said. He shifted on the carpeted floor of the master bedroom. He could hear Elizabeth downstairs, preparing dinner.
Peter murmured and petted Neal's hair. "It's a shame you have to be so stubborn. I think you and I could have fun together if you cooperated."
But after a couple weeks of no improvement, Peter's patience started to wane.
Once, to Neal's surprise, his efforts (or lack thereof) earned him a sharp tug on his hair.
"Focus," Peter said.
Neal's scalp stung and he fought the urge to rub it. With a stunt like this, Peter was lucky Neal hadn't bitten down in surprise. Actually, he wished he'd thought to do that. It was too late to pass it off as a reflex now.
Instead, he let Peter's cock slip out of his mouth and, even though it hadn't hurt that much, said, "Ow."
Peter's frown wavered. "Your mind was wandering," he said defensively. "You weren't even trying." He sighed. "Neal, I've tried to be patient with you. I knew this was going to take work, but I thought you'd be past the mechanics by now."
Neal, of course, was having little trouble focusing. He simply wasn't focused on what Peter wanted.
He knew that displeasing Peter was a risk, and that it would make his life harder before there was any hope of making it better. Neal had never been that good at cons that forced him to make sacrifices. He liked his comfort and happiness too much.
But he didn't see much chance of "comfort" in being Peter's sex slave.
He'd take his chances.
Chapter 4
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