Fic: The Devil You Know (5/25)
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: 6700 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.
The following Saturday, Neal started to come downstairs in the morning only to freeze on the stairs when he heard strained voices coming from the kitchen.
"I'm not jealous," Peter was saying. "I mean it. I think it's great you've had such a good time with Neal."
"I know that. I never said you were," Elizabeth said.
"I'm just getting tired of Neal's enthusiasm being so selective, that's all."
"Well, honey, what are we supposed to do about it? We can't make him want something."
"I don't know. Maybe you could back me up, here."
"Of course I will. But I don't want to make him feel threatened. When you're harsh with him, it just makes it harder."
"Then what do you suggest?"
There was a pause, and then Elizabeth said, "Well, for one thing, maybe you could try rewarding him more."
"I don't want him to think that sulking will get him what he wants. He needs to understand that it's not about what he wants."
"Honey, come on. Slave or not, you can't expect someone to give you something if they're not getting anything in return. And besides, effort deserves a reward. He is trying."
"Maybe with you, he is," Peter said sourly. "Besides, I tried rewarding him with those clothes, and he acted like I insulted him."
"I don't know if I blame him. Some of those t-shirts should be thrown away. Maybe you could try giving him something he likes. Or you could reciprocate more when you're together. You know, so he doesn't just feel like he's doing a job."
"You mean, touch him?"
"Sure, or kiss him. See if he likes that."
Neal listened with rapt attention. Knowing what Peter was thinking, and what he planned to do, gave him a great advantage.
While Peter and Elizabeth continued to talk, Satchmo came over to the foot of the stairs and looked up at Neal, curious. Neal tried to silently shoo him away, but he didn't budge. Worried that the attention would give him away, Neal decided it was time to make his presence known. He walked the rest of the way down the stairs and said hello to Satchmo as he walked through the living room.
Peter and Elizabeth grew quiet immediately.
Elizabeth might have believed that intimacy would make Neal's time with Peter more enjoyable. But Neal wasn't prepared for that. Perhaps it was better if sex was no different than doing the dishes or scrubbing the floor.
Neal understood Elizabeth's mistake. With her, intimacy made things better. When she kissed and held him, it made him feel like he was her lover. But he couldn't imagine feeling like Peter's lover.
The next time Peter called him into the master bedroom, Neal started to sink to his knees automatically. But this time, Peter caught his elbow and hoisted him back up.
"What's the hurry?" Peter patted the bed. "C'mon. Sit with me."
Slowly, Neal sat on the bed next to Peter. He kept some space between their bodies, but Peter clapped a hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze.
"You know, I like unwinding with a blowjob when I get home."
"I've noticed," Neal said.
"But sometimes it's nice to do a little more. I feel like I haven't gotten that acquainted with you yet."
Neal raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. He knew exactly what Peter was trying to do, and he wasn't going to give him any help.
Peter's mouth twitched. He hesitated for a moment, and leaned over and kissed Neal.
The kiss was hard and dry. He tried to slip his tongue between Neal's lips. Neal refused to part them, and, after a moment's effort, Peter gave up and sat back.
"I heard back from the appraiser this morning," Peter said. "Turns out you're worth a good amount. He appraised you at eight thousand."
Actually, that didn't sound so great at all. Neal had heard of slaves selling for higher than that. He was sure that each of Vincent Adler's slaves had cost at least ten thousand. But Peter was smiling proudly.
"I guess I should be honored," Neal said, dryly.
"It's not bad for a slave with a four-year sentence. And I thought you being considered a flight risk would bring the value down more. El and I only paid five thousand for you." He sounded self-congratulatory, like he was proud of himself for getting a good deal.
"So, you could make a profit off of me if you wanted."
"I told you, Neal. We're not selling you."
Neal shrugged. "I'm just saying. It's gotta cost a lot of money, taking care of a slave. Even if you do make me wear your hand-me-downs."
"I'm not worried about that," Peter said, running his hand up and down Neal's thigh. "The only return I want for my investment is hard work and the pleasure of your company. Speaking of which, let's get you out of that shirt."
Neal peeled off his t-shirt and tossed it aside. It was chilly in the room, but he was used to going about in a t-shirt most days. His long-sleeved shirts were nicer and he preferred to save them for outings and other opportunities that didn't arise often.
Peter smiled and inched closer. "There, that's nice. Let's get you comfortable."
He pushed Neal back onto the bed. Neal lay down, the comforter cool under his back.
"What are you doing?" Neal asked.
Peter ran a hand up Neal's stomach. "What does it feel like I'm doing?"
Neal squirmed. "Your hands are cold."
Peter ignored him and unbuttoned Neal's jeans. He tugged them, along with his underwear, down to his thighs.
Neal hadn't expected Peter to be bold enough to actually touch his dick. Clearly, he'd underestimated him.
When Peter started to stroke him, Neal said, "I thought you wanted a blowjob."
"I told you-there's no rush."
"But I have other things to do." Technically, it was true. But Elizabeth wouldn't want his help with dinner for at least another hour yet. "You don't need to do this."
"I want to do it. Relax-I thought we could have a fun time."
Neal twisted his hips and pulled away from Peter's hand. "Not sure I share your idea of 'fun.'"
Peter frowned and nudged Neal back into position. "According to El, you like getting handjobs."
Neal had known Elizabeth probably told Peter about what they did together, but the confirmation stung. He tried to hide his annoyance at the fact that she was sharing his likes and dislikes.
"She has softer hands." For good measure, he jerked and said, "Ouch...."
Peter's hands weren't that rough, and Peter looked suspicious as he let go of Neal's cock.
Peter leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer. He pulled out a bottle of lube and held it up for Neal to see. "Would this make it feel better?"
Before Neal could figure out a way to convince Peter that it wouldn't be better, Peter's cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. Cursing under his breath, Peter set down the lube and picked up the phone.
"What's going on, Jones?" he said, answering the call. "No, you definitely need form 80-B. There should be some on my desk." He glanced at Neal. "No, don't worry about it. You're not interrupting anything. But listen, it's already after five. If you need to worry about the form in the morning, that's fine. What? No. Who told you need 80-C?"
Seeing an opportunity, Neal slowly pulled his pants up and got off the bed. As he inched toward the door, he met Peter's eyes and whispered, "I'll just give you a minute...."
Peter rolled his eyes and waved Neal off. Covering the phone, he said, "Fine, just go."
Neal made his retreat. Elizabeth had wanted him to clean out the refrigerator, and now seemed like the perfect time to do it.
* * *
"What do you have to say about this?"
Neal looked at the shirt Peter had just thrown on the dining room table.
"It appears to be one of your shirts."
Peter pursed his lips and straightened out the shirt. He pointed at a burn mark on the back.
"And that would appear to be a burn," Neal said.
"Yes, it would seem a slave was careless with the iron yesterday."
Neal shrugged. "I guess I got distracted."
Peter put his hands on his hips. "Sure. Distracted."
"Well, I'm not sure what more you can expect from an eight thousand dollar slave. Or was it five thousand?"
"Seriously? That's what this is about? You're pissed off because of how much money you're worth?"
"Who said I'm pissed off? Did it occur to you that I might have made a mistake, or did you just jump to the worst conclusion?"
But of course he was pissed off. Part of it was the appraisal. He'd imagined he'd be more valuable, but eight thousand was just a little above average. If he had to be a slave, he could at least be a high-value one.
But he was also getting tired of this ordeal. Now that he was used to the Burkes' home and had settled into a routine, he had less tolerance for the reality of being a slave. He couldn't accept that this was going to be his fate for the next few years.
And it was clear that his plan to discourage Peter from having sex with him wasn't working. The only thing Neal had managed was to keep a tiny scrap of his pride.
If burning Peter's shirts could give him some satisfaction, he'd happily burn them all.
"This was no accident," Peter said. "Just like it wasn't an accident when you put too much salt in the mashed potatoes the other night. Or when you 'forgot' to tell me the insurance company called when I was in the shower. Or when you let Satchmo eat my sandwich. If it were just one or two things like this, I'd give you the benefit of the doubt. But your behavior has taken a turn for the worse all week. And now-" he pointed at the shirt "-you've ruined a perfectly good shirt!"
"So, does that mean you'll be giving it to me now?"
He knew from the look on Peter's face that he'd gone too far. He shouldn't have pushed it. He should have put on the obedient slave act, should have tried to make Peter doubt his own judgment.
Before he could do damage control, Peter dropped the shirt and walked over to him. Without hesitating, he gave Neal's ass two hard slaps.
Neal jumped and stepped away. He turned so that his ass was out of Peter's reach. He started to reach back to rub where Peter had hit him, but he resisted the urge, instead letting the sting slowly burn off on its own.
"Whoa, what are you doing? You can get in trouble for hitting me!"
"No. I'm not allowed to injure you. If I want to spank you for giving me an attitude, I'm within my rights. So if you don't want more of that, I suggest you change your tone."
Neal realized he was right. In any case, this wasn't a battle he wanted to fight right now. Sobering, he forced an innocent smile and said, "I'm sorry for damaging your shirt. Won't happen again."
Peter nodded. "That's what I like to hear."
It wasn't the last of it, though. That evening, Peter took away two of Neal's shirts, the nice ones that Neal liked.
Neal tried not to show his disappointment. He could handle being spanked better than losing his things.
But after dinner that night, as Neal sulked on the living room floor, Peter reached down from the sofa and rubbed his shoulder, saying, "Tell you what-if you behave over the weekend, you can get your shirts back on Monday."
At least that was something.
He wasn't sure what he'd intended to accomplish by making Peter displeased with him. But it was clear now that there would be consequences.
* * *
Neal had been with the Burkes for over a month, and they'd grown more accustomed to allowing him out of the house.
Neal wasn't simply allowed to go out when he wished, of course. Even if the Burkes had trusted him more, slaves weren't supposed to go far from home unless they were accompanied or had a license permitting them to be out.
But walking Satchmo became a regular part of his routine. He took whatever chance he had to get out of the house, whether it was walking Satchmo through the neighborhood or accompanying Elizabeth to the grocery store.
When he could, he liked to take Satchmo to a park a few blocks away. Peter would let him go by himself with a warning to be back within an hour.
When Neal pointed out he had no way of keeping track of time, Peter gave him an old watch with a cracked leather band and scratched face.
Neal thought it was silly to have to watch the time when he went out. It wasn't like Peter didn't know where he was.
Last year, the state introduced applications that allowed owners to track their slaves' GPS signals. Peter had made it clear that he kept that data in front of him whenever Neal went out. He'd even warned Neal that he checked it periodically when he was at work, just to make sure Neal was still at home.
But even if he was being tracked, getting out to the park was a cherished opportunity to get away for a while.
One breezy, early-autumn afternoon, he was sitting on a bench. He’d let Satchmo off the leash and was throwing a frisbee for him when he saw someone approach out of the corner of his eye and sit on the bench beside his.
"I saw two birds by the fountain."
His heart jolted at the sound of Mozzie's voice. He couldn't suppress a smile as he turned to look at his friend.
"Moz! How’d you find me here?"
Neal couldn’t believe it. He’d given up hope of seeing Moz weeks ago.
"Neal! I was trying to be discreet." Mozzie sighed. "I’ve been doing reconnaissance for a couple weeks. Now, is it safe?"
"Yeah, it’s safe. I’m by myself."
Neal tried to process the fact that Mozzie had been watching him. Peter accompanied Neal on walks occasionally, and Neal wasn’t sure he liked the thought of Mozzie seeing him with Peter. Especially if Peter was using the leash.
But he pushed the discomfort aside. Finally, he had a chance to talk to someone.
He tried not to face Mozzie directly. Most people around the park didn’t know Neal well enough to report anything back to the Burkes, but a slave speaking to a free person could be seen as inappropriate or suspicious.
"I can't believe you were bought by a fed," Mozzie said. "It's cruel and unusual punishment."
"Tell me about it."
"Are you all right?"
"Hanging in there."
Mozzie unzipped a small cooler bag by his side and pulled out a Tupperware container and a plastic fork. He handed it to Neal.
"Here-thought you might be able to use some decent food."
Neal smiled when he opened the container.
"You brought me coq au vin?"
"The best in the city."
Satchmo whined at Neal's feet, unhappy at being ignored. Neal tossed the frisbee one last time and then devoted his attention wholly to the heavenly food in his lap. Good food was meant to be savored, but there was no time for that. He picked up the fork and dug in.
"My God," Mozzie said, "are they starving you?"
"No," Neal said, swallowing down a bite. Mozzie handed him a bottle of mineral water and he took a gulp. "I just don’t have a lot of time. I’m supposed to be back at the house in a half hour. This food though-It’s great, Moz, really. Elizabeth-that’s Peter’s wife-"
"Yes, I’m familiar with your overlords."
"She has good taste, so most of the food isn’t bad. But Peter doesn't like any food that he can't pronounce."
Mozzie scoffed. "And I take it his culinary vocabulary is narrower than yours."
Neal murmured in assent.
While Neal ate, he asked, "Have you talked to Kate? How is she?"
Mozzie hesitated.
Neal set down his fork. "Moz, what is it? I’m not liking the silence."
"Well, let’s just say that your situation has been a cautionary tale. People are lying low."
"Meaning?"
"For example, Alex has decided to limit her activities to countries that don't have slavery. I hear she purchased a house in Sweden."
"I asked about Kate. Are you going to tell me she's living in Sweden, too?"
"Not that I’m aware of. But she’s making herself scarce. I've only talked to her a couple times since you were sentenced. I'm just saying you shouldn't be too surprised that she hasn't tracked you down. You couldn't know how she'd react to this happening."
"I don't want her to stick her neck out for me. She knows that. It doesn't mean she doesn't care."
"I never said she didn't."
Neal knew what Mozzie was implying, though. He thought he'd proven he was more loyal than Kate by coming here. Or maybe he believed Kate was truly gone, and wanted to break it to Neal gently. Neal didn't buy that for a second, but his watch was ticking and he didn't have time to defend Kate.
"Does she know where I am? Who bought me?"
"It's public record, Neal. Yeah, of course she knows."
Neal sat back. As glad as he was that Mozzie found him, he'd half-hoped he was untraceable. Slavery was a reality. Every conman and criminal knew it could happen to them. But being a con owned by a fed was a special form of shame.
"Oh," Mozzie said with a smile, "I do have some good news. I went to a seized property auction a couple weeks ago and was able to buy back three of your suits."
"Really? That's great. Thanks, Moz."
"Don't mention it."
Finished with his food, Neal put the fork inside the container and handed it to Mozzie. Satchmo was back at Neal's side, but had lain down at his feet.
"Listen," Mozzie said, "I don't want to pry, but are you okay? These owners of yours, they don't...hurt you, do they?"
"No," Neal said slowly. "No, nothing like that. I guess they've been as good to me as I can expect."
Mozzie shifted on his bench. "Right. Look, I hate to be blunt, but I do know the sort of duties personal slaves are expected to perform. You don’t have to pretend it’s not horrible."
Neal’s face grew hot. Gathering his wits, he said, "Wait, you think I sleep with them? No, Moz, it’s nothing like that. I just do the dishes, vacuum, walk the dog. Purely domestic stuff. To be honest, it's boring. I feel like I'm losing brain cells. I cook, but like I said, Peter’s not exactly a gourmet."
Mozzie looked surprised, and maybe skeptical. "Oh. Well that's...that’s good to hear. I mean, boring is tolerable, right? You can handle that for four years."
Neal forced a small smile. "That's assuming I’m going to stick around for four years."
"You have another plan?"
"Do you really think they can keep me here?"
Mozzie squirmed. "It's not a question of whether or not they can keep you. It's a question of whether it's worth the risk of being caught."
"Are you seriously saying I shouldn't run? Didn't think you'd be the type to bow to the establishment, Moz."
"Bite your tongue. Far be it from me to encourage any bowing. But I do believe in self-preservation, and you know some very bad things could happen to you if you're not careful. I'm just saying...if all the Suit is doing is keeping you bored, maybe four years is doable."
Mozzie was right-escape was risky. But he couldn't let his friend believe he'd acquiesced to his fate.
"I can't believe you. I thought you'd be supportive."
"I am! But what are you going to do? Do you even have a plan?"
"All I need is a passport and some money. If you can get those for me, I can handle everything else."
"Yeah? And what about that jewelry around your neck? Slave collars are almost impossible to get off without a real key. I'm not even sure if I could crack one."
"Luckily for me, I belong to an FBI agent. I can get a key."
Mozzie was silent, and Neal took it as a sign of agreement. Pushing further, he said, "I'll need money and ID in order to get out of here. Getting my collar off won't help if I'm stuck in Brooklyn."
"All right, fine. Give me a few days."
Neal wasn't as confident as he made himself sound. The truth was, while he'd daydreamed about escaping, he had no concrete plan. He wasn't actually sure how he would get a key to his collar.
He just couldn't bear to let Mozzie think he wasn't willing to try. Mozzie could talk all he wanted about being careful, but the Neal Caffrey he'd known wouldn't be made into a slave. Neal had to keep his old image alive.
Neal didn't think Mozzie really understood how things were now. And he couldn't let Mozzie know that sex was involved. He knew he'd never be able to explain how things were with Elizabeth, and he couldn't bear to admit he had sex with Peter.
Neal might not have had a lot of control over his situation, but at least he could control how his friends saw it.
He didn't see Mozzie again that week. But a few days after their meeting, he found a crumpled paper bag half-concealed in the park, sitting under the bench Mozzie had sat on.
On a hunch that it wasn't just garbage, Neal investigated and found his Nick Halden passport and a couple thousand in cash inside.
It couldn’t have been there long. He wondered if Mozzie was watching from a distance, but he didn't see him.
He snuck the bag back home with him. It was small enough that he managed to hold it under his jacket without any detection.
He stashed it in his bedroom closet, but he knew he’d need a better hiding place. His entire room was too risky--sometimes Peter came in and took a look around, and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t conduct a full search someday.
No, he would need to find some place that Peter wouldn't think to look. The next afternoon, Elizabeth was away at meetings for most of the day, so Neal took advantage of the time to look for a suitable place.
It couldn’t be somewhere where the Burkes were too likely to stumble upon it. Finally, opening the hall closet on the third floor, he noticed a large plastic tub marked "Christmas."
It was perfect. Christmas was months away yet. When it got closer to December, he could find another hiding place. He stashed the paper bag under a couple strands of Christmas tree lights. When he replaced the lid on the tub, he carefully brushed away the dust on the handles to obscure his fingerprints.
* * *
"I think I'll wait in the car."
They were running errands in Manhattan and Peter had just informed him that there was a final stop to make before heading home.
"Oh, no. I'm not leaving you in my car unattended," Peter said.
Neal propped his elbow on the car door and rested his head on his hand. "What am I going to do, steal it?"
"I'd rather not take the chance." Looking sideways at Neal, he said, "Don't sulk. You think I enjoy having to keep my eyes on you?"
The car in front of them slowed down, and Peter stomped on the breaks.
"Would you watch the road?"
"Don't tell me how to drive. You know, I was at this nice apartment yesterday, talking to a fraud victim. You wouldn’t believe how well her slave behaved. She didn't have to tell him to do anything. She even sent him out alone to run an errand."
"Not my fault if you choose to keep me on a tight leash. But seriously, making me come with you is cruel. Can I wait outside the car?"
"We're only going to be a minute. Sara doesn't even know you're with me. You're the last thing she's interested in today." Peter sighed. "Look, Neal, I don’t want to embarrass you, but there's no guarantee that you'll never run into anyone you know. Besides, everyone knows you're a slave now."
"So," Neal muttered, "I can't see my friends, but I have to see people who don't like me."
Peter looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "What 'friends' am I keeping you from seeing? Kate?"
Neal just shrugged.
Logically, Neal doubted Peter was dragging him along to see Sara Ellis just to torment him. Peter didn't seem like one for public humiliation. He'd told Neal he just had to meet with Sara about some stolen jewels they were both investigating.
The problem was, Peter's idea of public humiliation was different from Neal's.
But Neal decided it was best not to complain any more. He didn't want to discourage Peter from taking him on errands in the future.
After Peter parked the car, they walked two blocks to a café. Sara was sitting at a table out front, sipping a cup of coffee.
She smiled when she saw Neal. To Peter, she said, "I see you brought the new slave."
"We had some errands to run. I thought it'd be quicker to bring him along."
Peter sat across from Sara at the round table, and Neal took the seat between them. They both gave him a sharp look, and he realized it was because slaves weren't supposed to sit with free people without invitation. It probably would have been more appropriate for him to remain standing, or maybe to kneel on the hard tiled patio.
But since when had Neal cared about behaving like a good slave?
Turning to Sara, Peter said, "You said you had some ideas about a possible suspect?"
"Right," she said, reaching into her briefcase for a file. "Sterling-Bosch suspects it could have been an inside job. And I've stumbled upon some things that might be of interest." As she flipped through her notes, she glanced up at Neal and said, "So, how's slavery?"
"Surprisingly good, actually," Neal said brightly. "You can't beat free room and board. Thanks for asking."
"If it fits you so well, you can tell me where you stashed that Raphael. I'm sure you could get a few more years."
"I think I'm happy having him for the four," Peter said dryly.
Sara looked at Neal. "Better be careful, Caffrey. Sounds like you're already wearing out his patience."
"Oh, I think Agent Burke and I get along just fine."
"All right," Peter said softly, gently swatting Neal on the shoulder. "That's enough from you."
He wanted to argue that Sara had started it. Instead, he sat back and listened to them discuss the jewels. He could have helped them, probably. Who knew more about jewel heists than him? But he wasn't feeling charitable and, well, Peter had told him to be quiet.
Neal took in his surroundings. He wished Peter had left him with the car-maybe then he could have gone off on his own for a few minutes. He moved his fingers along the outside of one of his pockets. He had twenty-five dollars with him, taken from the stash that Moz had given him. It was a risk bringing it-if Peter caught him with it, he'd think Neal picked someone's pocket. But Neal had brought it in case he might get to do some unsupervised shopping.
As Peter promised, the stop at the café was brief. As were getting up from the table, Sara said to Peter, "I hope you're keeping a close eye on him. I've recovered four runaway slaves this year."
"Oh, Neal knows better than to run."
Sara smiled. "I hope you're right."
* * *
That night, while Neal was drying dishes, Elizabeth came over to him and rubbed his back.
"Neal, how would you like to come to bed with me tonight?"
"Doesn't sound bad...." Neal said, cautiously. The only time he and Elizabeth made love at night was when Peter was working late. Tonight, Peter was in the living room, watching a game on TV.
"How would you feel if Peter joined us?"
Neal turned away. "Now I'm less interested."
"Oh, sweetie, he just wants to be included. And I'd really like to see the two of you together." She ran a finger down his arm. "I think it'd be really sexy."
Neal wasn't fooled. He knew she was trying to help Peter.
But in her soft tone and pleading eyes, Neal also saw some genuineness. He didn't have the heart to disappoint her, and he certainly wasn't stupid enough to. Elizabeth was more charitable toward him than Peter, and he didn't want to jeopardize it by making her think he was difficult.
After finishing with the dishes, Neal joined Peter in the living room. While Peter finished watching the game, Neal sat on the floor with a pencil and a pad of paper and drew.
During a commercial, Peter looked down and said, "What are you drawing? It looks Medieval. Is that a Michelangelo sketch?"
"Good eye."
"Hm. Not sure I should be allowing you to make forgeries in my living room...."
Neal rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure I could fool the art world with lined paper and a number two pencil."
"All right you two," Elizabeth said, coming in from the kitchen, "no arguing." She joined Peter on the sofa and reached down to ruffle Neal's hair. "I like the drawing."
"If you guys got me an easel and some paint, I could do paintings for you. For the house."
"We'll see," Peter said dryly.
When the game ended fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth kissed Peter on the cheek and said, "Why don't we go upstairs? Neal is going to join us tonight."
Peter glanced down at Neal. "Oh, yeah?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Mm-hm."
Peter looked at him inquisitively. Neal was sure Peter was smart enough to question this turn of luck in his favor.
But the doubt was fleeting.
Neal followed them upstairs. He'd never been in the master bedroom with both of them. He wasn't sure what they were hoping for. But as a slave, there was nothing wrong with standing back and waiting for orders.
Peter and Elizabeth embraced for a minute, holding each other as though they were oblivious to Neal's presence. Neal had no particular desire to watch them make love. As Peter began to unbutton his shirt, Elizabeth excused herself. She grabbed an item of clothing from the bed and stepped out into the hall.
Peter sat on the bed with his shirt hanging open.
"C'mon," he said to Neal. "Get undressed and join us. El will be back in a minute."
Neal mechanically took off his clothes. He left his boxers on, but as he came over to the bed Peter stopped him and tugged them down to his knees. Neal obediently stepped out of them and joined Peter on the bed.
He'd never had a problem with nudity, so there shouldn't have been anything special about being naked now. But when he'd performed his sexual duties in the past, he'd always been at least partially clothed.
He lay on the bed while Peter took off his shoes and finished getting undressed.
Elizabeth still wasn't back. Peter sat with his back against the pillows and started stroking his cock.
"While we wait for El, you can start getting me hard."
Neal inched closer and Peter put a hand on his shoulder, making him lean over. Neal thought about stalling, because he was sure Peter would lose a lot of interest in him once Elizabeth returned. But he decided he would rather suck Peter's cock than stare at it in this cramped position.
He was sucking dutifully when he heard Elizabeth come back in the room. He strained his eyes to try to get a look at her without removing Peter's cock from his mouth.
"I see you decided to start without me," Elizabeth said.
The bed dipped as she climbed in. She was wearing an oversized pajama shirt. It was unbuttoned, and she slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall to the bed. She reached down and ran a hand through Neal's hair.
Neal's sucking lagged as he tried to look at her. Thankfully, Peter was too distracted to notice. She leaned over Neal to kiss Peter, and Neal could feel her breasts against the back of his head.
Peter moaned and pushed Neal aside.
"All right," he said. "I think that's enough."
Peter's cock looked painfully hard. As he held Elizabeth, he was careful to avoid contact with it, obviously wishing to draw this out.
But Neal didn't want to focus on Peter's cock any more than he had to. Certainly not with Elizabeth in front of him.
Peter murmured something in her ear and she smiled. She lay down on the bed, spread her legs, and motioned for Neal to come over.
Neal's breath quickened. He quickly moved into position between her legs. She stroked his hair with a light touch while he kissed the insides of her thighs.
"Guess he's eager to go down on a beautiful woman," Peter said. It didn't sound like a complaint. He sounded too proud and aroused to care about the inequality in Neal's attention.
"He knows what he's doing," Elizabeth said fondly.
As he ran his tongue over her clit, he felt Peter's hand working its way between his legs, touching his balls and his hardening cock. Neal reflexively tried to jerk away, but Elizabeth rubbed his shoulders as if to say that he should let Peter do it.
Neal couldn't help but get hard when he was with Elizabeth. He could do without Peter fondling him. But he couldn't pull away from Peter without pulling away from Elizabeth. Peter kept rubbing his cock, and Neal put up with the attention until Elizabeth finally pushed him away.
Neal moved to the other side of the bed. Her cheeks pink with lust, Elizabeth pulled Peter close to her and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Neal didn't know what he was supposed to do now. Did they want him to stay there and watch while they fucked? Was he supposed to go now that he'd helped with the foreplay? He didn't dare touch his own hard cock-he didn't want them to think he was getting off from watching them.
In the end, he leaned against the pillows and tried to make it look like he was keeping his eyes on the bed. In truth, he couldn't help but watch and listen to the panting and moaning on the other side of the bed.
When they'd finished, Elizabeth sidled up to Neal, who was still aching and hard. With a kiss to his cheek, she started stroking his cock.
Neal thought about telling her it was unnecessary. He didn't know if he could come with Peter leering at him a couple feet away. But he couldn't help himself. Just as Elizabeth brought him to the brink, she let go and another, larger hand took over. Before he could react or move away, he came on Peter's hand. He was overcome with pleasure and embarrassment.
He shuddered, feeling exhausted and vulnerable. He realized that Peter and Elizabeth could do anything they wanted with him, and that they were the only people he had right now who would make him feel good.
Peter and Elizabeth left him there while they went to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Neal stretched out on a cool patch of the sheets while he waited. As soon as they were finished, he grabbed his boxers and headed for the bathroom.
He took his time cleaning up. It was a relief to clean the stickiness from his stomach. Now that the post-orgasmic glow was fading, he was embarrassed that he'd let Peter get him off. It was too personal, and up until now Neal had prided himself on not giving Peter anything of himself.
As he pulled his boxers on, he remembered that the rest of his clothes were still in the master bedroom. As he'd been in the bathroom for several minutes, he wasn't sure if it was too late to go back and retrieve them.
The bedroom door was still open, and Neal decided to take his chances. Peeking inside he said, "I just wanted to grab my clothes."
They were dressed in their pajamas and in bed. Peter was reading a book.
"That's fine," Elizabeth said. "But we meant to ask if you'd like to sleep with us tonight."
Neal raised his eyebrows. "You mean, in your bed?"
Peter glanced up from his book. "I'm not having you sleep on the floor. Last thing I need is to trip over you in the middle of the night. C'mon, we thought you deserved a treat."
Neal wasn't sure if sleeping in their bed counted as a treat. He was going to turn the offer down, but Elizabeth got up and grabbed a spare pillow that she'd set on the chair in the corner. She put it on the bed between her and Peter's pillows and patted the bed.
Well, if it was just for tonight....It wasn't Neal's ideal sleeping arrangement, but he could humor them.
Neal climbed into bed. Elizabeth got in after him, securing him in between her and Peter. Neal burrowed under the covers and tried to figure out the most comfortable position. He curled his arm under his head to take pressure off his neck.
"You okay?" Elizabeth asked. "Is it your collar?"
"It's nothing. It just gets uncomfortable if I lie on it wrong."
Peter set down his book. "You know, they sell felt that you can stick between your neck and the metal to make it softer. We can get some for you if it'll help. It's not a big deal."
"Yeah? I thought you told me not to complain."
Elizabeth made a questioning sound and Peter said, "No, I never said that. I warned you because I didn't want you begging for a new collar on a whim, or looking for an excuse to have it taken off. Of course you're going to have some complaints-those collars are designed to be more durable than comfortable."
"It's all right. I'm used to it."
He'd been wearing a collar for two months, counting his time in training. That first collar had been even worse. At least the one Peter got him had softer edges and was lighter. But Neal didn't know if he'd ever get used to the damn thing entirely.
Peter returned to his book, and Elizabeth switched off the lamp on her nightstand. Normally, Neal would read before going to sleep, or he would just lie in bed and think. He couldn't do either tonight. He could never let himself relax enough around them to lose himself in thought.
Surprisingly, it wasn't unpleasant. Maybe it was a treat to sleep in the Burkes' bed tonight after all, though not for the reasons they may have intended. It was nice to curl up under the covers and not think about Kate, or how tired he was getting of slavery.
He dozed off quickly, but slept fitfully. He'd never slept well in a strange bed. He woke up a couple hours later to find the room dark and both Peter and Elizabeth asleep. He woke up a couple more times until morning came and Peter's alarm went off.
To Neal's shame, he discovered that he'd migrated closer to Peter, and was pressed against him. Peter didn't seem to mind at all. He turned off his alarm and hooked an arm around Neal's waist. On the other side of the bed, Elizabeth stirred.
"This is nice," Peter said softly. "I'm glad we had you sleep here. You do toss in your sleep, though."
"I could've warned you if you asked."
Peter held him for another minute before getting up.
Chapter 6
This entry was originally posted at http://citrinesunset.dreamwidth.org/112226.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: 6700 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.
The following Saturday, Neal started to come downstairs in the morning only to freeze on the stairs when he heard strained voices coming from the kitchen.
"I'm not jealous," Peter was saying. "I mean it. I think it's great you've had such a good time with Neal."
"I know that. I never said you were," Elizabeth said.
"I'm just getting tired of Neal's enthusiasm being so selective, that's all."
"Well, honey, what are we supposed to do about it? We can't make him want something."
"I don't know. Maybe you could back me up, here."
"Of course I will. But I don't want to make him feel threatened. When you're harsh with him, it just makes it harder."
"Then what do you suggest?"
There was a pause, and then Elizabeth said, "Well, for one thing, maybe you could try rewarding him more."
"I don't want him to think that sulking will get him what he wants. He needs to understand that it's not about what he wants."
"Honey, come on. Slave or not, you can't expect someone to give you something if they're not getting anything in return. And besides, effort deserves a reward. He is trying."
"Maybe with you, he is," Peter said sourly. "Besides, I tried rewarding him with those clothes, and he acted like I insulted him."
"I don't know if I blame him. Some of those t-shirts should be thrown away. Maybe you could try giving him something he likes. Or you could reciprocate more when you're together. You know, so he doesn't just feel like he's doing a job."
"You mean, touch him?"
"Sure, or kiss him. See if he likes that."
Neal listened with rapt attention. Knowing what Peter was thinking, and what he planned to do, gave him a great advantage.
While Peter and Elizabeth continued to talk, Satchmo came over to the foot of the stairs and looked up at Neal, curious. Neal tried to silently shoo him away, but he didn't budge. Worried that the attention would give him away, Neal decided it was time to make his presence known. He walked the rest of the way down the stairs and said hello to Satchmo as he walked through the living room.
Peter and Elizabeth grew quiet immediately.
Elizabeth might have believed that intimacy would make Neal's time with Peter more enjoyable. But Neal wasn't prepared for that. Perhaps it was better if sex was no different than doing the dishes or scrubbing the floor.
Neal understood Elizabeth's mistake. With her, intimacy made things better. When she kissed and held him, it made him feel like he was her lover. But he couldn't imagine feeling like Peter's lover.
The next time Peter called him into the master bedroom, Neal started to sink to his knees automatically. But this time, Peter caught his elbow and hoisted him back up.
"What's the hurry?" Peter patted the bed. "C'mon. Sit with me."
Slowly, Neal sat on the bed next to Peter. He kept some space between their bodies, but Peter clapped a hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze.
"You know, I like unwinding with a blowjob when I get home."
"I've noticed," Neal said.
"But sometimes it's nice to do a little more. I feel like I haven't gotten that acquainted with you yet."
Neal raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. He knew exactly what Peter was trying to do, and he wasn't going to give him any help.
Peter's mouth twitched. He hesitated for a moment, and leaned over and kissed Neal.
The kiss was hard and dry. He tried to slip his tongue between Neal's lips. Neal refused to part them, and, after a moment's effort, Peter gave up and sat back.
"I heard back from the appraiser this morning," Peter said. "Turns out you're worth a good amount. He appraised you at eight thousand."
Actually, that didn't sound so great at all. Neal had heard of slaves selling for higher than that. He was sure that each of Vincent Adler's slaves had cost at least ten thousand. But Peter was smiling proudly.
"I guess I should be honored," Neal said, dryly.
"It's not bad for a slave with a four-year sentence. And I thought you being considered a flight risk would bring the value down more. El and I only paid five thousand for you." He sounded self-congratulatory, like he was proud of himself for getting a good deal.
"So, you could make a profit off of me if you wanted."
"I told you, Neal. We're not selling you."
Neal shrugged. "I'm just saying. It's gotta cost a lot of money, taking care of a slave. Even if you do make me wear your hand-me-downs."
"I'm not worried about that," Peter said, running his hand up and down Neal's thigh. "The only return I want for my investment is hard work and the pleasure of your company. Speaking of which, let's get you out of that shirt."
Neal peeled off his t-shirt and tossed it aside. It was chilly in the room, but he was used to going about in a t-shirt most days. His long-sleeved shirts were nicer and he preferred to save them for outings and other opportunities that didn't arise often.
Peter smiled and inched closer. "There, that's nice. Let's get you comfortable."
He pushed Neal back onto the bed. Neal lay down, the comforter cool under his back.
"What are you doing?" Neal asked.
Peter ran a hand up Neal's stomach. "What does it feel like I'm doing?"
Neal squirmed. "Your hands are cold."
Peter ignored him and unbuttoned Neal's jeans. He tugged them, along with his underwear, down to his thighs.
Neal hadn't expected Peter to be bold enough to actually touch his dick. Clearly, he'd underestimated him.
When Peter started to stroke him, Neal said, "I thought you wanted a blowjob."
"I told you-there's no rush."
"But I have other things to do." Technically, it was true. But Elizabeth wouldn't want his help with dinner for at least another hour yet. "You don't need to do this."
"I want to do it. Relax-I thought we could have a fun time."
Neal twisted his hips and pulled away from Peter's hand. "Not sure I share your idea of 'fun.'"
Peter frowned and nudged Neal back into position. "According to El, you like getting handjobs."
Neal had known Elizabeth probably told Peter about what they did together, but the confirmation stung. He tried to hide his annoyance at the fact that she was sharing his likes and dislikes.
"She has softer hands." For good measure, he jerked and said, "Ouch...."
Peter's hands weren't that rough, and Peter looked suspicious as he let go of Neal's cock.
Peter leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer. He pulled out a bottle of lube and held it up for Neal to see. "Would this make it feel better?"
Before Neal could figure out a way to convince Peter that it wouldn't be better, Peter's cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. Cursing under his breath, Peter set down the lube and picked up the phone.
"What's going on, Jones?" he said, answering the call. "No, you definitely need form 80-B. There should be some on my desk." He glanced at Neal. "No, don't worry about it. You're not interrupting anything. But listen, it's already after five. If you need to worry about the form in the morning, that's fine. What? No. Who told you need 80-C?"
Seeing an opportunity, Neal slowly pulled his pants up and got off the bed. As he inched toward the door, he met Peter's eyes and whispered, "I'll just give you a minute...."
Peter rolled his eyes and waved Neal off. Covering the phone, he said, "Fine, just go."
Neal made his retreat. Elizabeth had wanted him to clean out the refrigerator, and now seemed like the perfect time to do it.
* * *
"What do you have to say about this?"
Neal looked at the shirt Peter had just thrown on the dining room table.
"It appears to be one of your shirts."
Peter pursed his lips and straightened out the shirt. He pointed at a burn mark on the back.
"And that would appear to be a burn," Neal said.
"Yes, it would seem a slave was careless with the iron yesterday."
Neal shrugged. "I guess I got distracted."
Peter put his hands on his hips. "Sure. Distracted."
"Well, I'm not sure what more you can expect from an eight thousand dollar slave. Or was it five thousand?"
"Seriously? That's what this is about? You're pissed off because of how much money you're worth?"
"Who said I'm pissed off? Did it occur to you that I might have made a mistake, or did you just jump to the worst conclusion?"
But of course he was pissed off. Part of it was the appraisal. He'd imagined he'd be more valuable, but eight thousand was just a little above average. If he had to be a slave, he could at least be a high-value one.
But he was also getting tired of this ordeal. Now that he was used to the Burkes' home and had settled into a routine, he had less tolerance for the reality of being a slave. He couldn't accept that this was going to be his fate for the next few years.
And it was clear that his plan to discourage Peter from having sex with him wasn't working. The only thing Neal had managed was to keep a tiny scrap of his pride.
If burning Peter's shirts could give him some satisfaction, he'd happily burn them all.
"This was no accident," Peter said. "Just like it wasn't an accident when you put too much salt in the mashed potatoes the other night. Or when you 'forgot' to tell me the insurance company called when I was in the shower. Or when you let Satchmo eat my sandwich. If it were just one or two things like this, I'd give you the benefit of the doubt. But your behavior has taken a turn for the worse all week. And now-" he pointed at the shirt "-you've ruined a perfectly good shirt!"
"So, does that mean you'll be giving it to me now?"
He knew from the look on Peter's face that he'd gone too far. He shouldn't have pushed it. He should have put on the obedient slave act, should have tried to make Peter doubt his own judgment.
Before he could do damage control, Peter dropped the shirt and walked over to him. Without hesitating, he gave Neal's ass two hard slaps.
Neal jumped and stepped away. He turned so that his ass was out of Peter's reach. He started to reach back to rub where Peter had hit him, but he resisted the urge, instead letting the sting slowly burn off on its own.
"Whoa, what are you doing? You can get in trouble for hitting me!"
"No. I'm not allowed to injure you. If I want to spank you for giving me an attitude, I'm within my rights. So if you don't want more of that, I suggest you change your tone."
Neal realized he was right. In any case, this wasn't a battle he wanted to fight right now. Sobering, he forced an innocent smile and said, "I'm sorry for damaging your shirt. Won't happen again."
Peter nodded. "That's what I like to hear."
It wasn't the last of it, though. That evening, Peter took away two of Neal's shirts, the nice ones that Neal liked.
Neal tried not to show his disappointment. He could handle being spanked better than losing his things.
But after dinner that night, as Neal sulked on the living room floor, Peter reached down from the sofa and rubbed his shoulder, saying, "Tell you what-if you behave over the weekend, you can get your shirts back on Monday."
At least that was something.
He wasn't sure what he'd intended to accomplish by making Peter displeased with him. But it was clear now that there would be consequences.
* * *
Neal had been with the Burkes for over a month, and they'd grown more accustomed to allowing him out of the house.
Neal wasn't simply allowed to go out when he wished, of course. Even if the Burkes had trusted him more, slaves weren't supposed to go far from home unless they were accompanied or had a license permitting them to be out.
But walking Satchmo became a regular part of his routine. He took whatever chance he had to get out of the house, whether it was walking Satchmo through the neighborhood or accompanying Elizabeth to the grocery store.
When he could, he liked to take Satchmo to a park a few blocks away. Peter would let him go by himself with a warning to be back within an hour.
When Neal pointed out he had no way of keeping track of time, Peter gave him an old watch with a cracked leather band and scratched face.
Neal thought it was silly to have to watch the time when he went out. It wasn't like Peter didn't know where he was.
Last year, the state introduced applications that allowed owners to track their slaves' GPS signals. Peter had made it clear that he kept that data in front of him whenever Neal went out. He'd even warned Neal that he checked it periodically when he was at work, just to make sure Neal was still at home.
But even if he was being tracked, getting out to the park was a cherished opportunity to get away for a while.
One breezy, early-autumn afternoon, he was sitting on a bench. He’d let Satchmo off the leash and was throwing a frisbee for him when he saw someone approach out of the corner of his eye and sit on the bench beside his.
"I saw two birds by the fountain."
His heart jolted at the sound of Mozzie's voice. He couldn't suppress a smile as he turned to look at his friend.
"Moz! How’d you find me here?"
Neal couldn’t believe it. He’d given up hope of seeing Moz weeks ago.
"Neal! I was trying to be discreet." Mozzie sighed. "I’ve been doing reconnaissance for a couple weeks. Now, is it safe?"
"Yeah, it’s safe. I’m by myself."
Neal tried to process the fact that Mozzie had been watching him. Peter accompanied Neal on walks occasionally, and Neal wasn’t sure he liked the thought of Mozzie seeing him with Peter. Especially if Peter was using the leash.
But he pushed the discomfort aside. Finally, he had a chance to talk to someone.
He tried not to face Mozzie directly. Most people around the park didn’t know Neal well enough to report anything back to the Burkes, but a slave speaking to a free person could be seen as inappropriate or suspicious.
"I can't believe you were bought by a fed," Mozzie said. "It's cruel and unusual punishment."
"Tell me about it."
"Are you all right?"
"Hanging in there."
Mozzie unzipped a small cooler bag by his side and pulled out a Tupperware container and a plastic fork. He handed it to Neal.
"Here-thought you might be able to use some decent food."
Neal smiled when he opened the container.
"You brought me coq au vin?"
"The best in the city."
Satchmo whined at Neal's feet, unhappy at being ignored. Neal tossed the frisbee one last time and then devoted his attention wholly to the heavenly food in his lap. Good food was meant to be savored, but there was no time for that. He picked up the fork and dug in.
"My God," Mozzie said, "are they starving you?"
"No," Neal said, swallowing down a bite. Mozzie handed him a bottle of mineral water and he took a gulp. "I just don’t have a lot of time. I’m supposed to be back at the house in a half hour. This food though-It’s great, Moz, really. Elizabeth-that’s Peter’s wife-"
"Yes, I’m familiar with your overlords."
"She has good taste, so most of the food isn’t bad. But Peter doesn't like any food that he can't pronounce."
Mozzie scoffed. "And I take it his culinary vocabulary is narrower than yours."
Neal murmured in assent.
While Neal ate, he asked, "Have you talked to Kate? How is she?"
Mozzie hesitated.
Neal set down his fork. "Moz, what is it? I’m not liking the silence."
"Well, let’s just say that your situation has been a cautionary tale. People are lying low."
"Meaning?"
"For example, Alex has decided to limit her activities to countries that don't have slavery. I hear she purchased a house in Sweden."
"I asked about Kate. Are you going to tell me she's living in Sweden, too?"
"Not that I’m aware of. But she’s making herself scarce. I've only talked to her a couple times since you were sentenced. I'm just saying you shouldn't be too surprised that she hasn't tracked you down. You couldn't know how she'd react to this happening."
"I don't want her to stick her neck out for me. She knows that. It doesn't mean she doesn't care."
"I never said she didn't."
Neal knew what Mozzie was implying, though. He thought he'd proven he was more loyal than Kate by coming here. Or maybe he believed Kate was truly gone, and wanted to break it to Neal gently. Neal didn't buy that for a second, but his watch was ticking and he didn't have time to defend Kate.
"Does she know where I am? Who bought me?"
"It's public record, Neal. Yeah, of course she knows."
Neal sat back. As glad as he was that Mozzie found him, he'd half-hoped he was untraceable. Slavery was a reality. Every conman and criminal knew it could happen to them. But being a con owned by a fed was a special form of shame.
"Oh," Mozzie said with a smile, "I do have some good news. I went to a seized property auction a couple weeks ago and was able to buy back three of your suits."
"Really? That's great. Thanks, Moz."
"Don't mention it."
Finished with his food, Neal put the fork inside the container and handed it to Mozzie. Satchmo was back at Neal's side, but had lain down at his feet.
"Listen," Mozzie said, "I don't want to pry, but are you okay? These owners of yours, they don't...hurt you, do they?"
"No," Neal said slowly. "No, nothing like that. I guess they've been as good to me as I can expect."
Mozzie shifted on his bench. "Right. Look, I hate to be blunt, but I do know the sort of duties personal slaves are expected to perform. You don’t have to pretend it’s not horrible."
Neal’s face grew hot. Gathering his wits, he said, "Wait, you think I sleep with them? No, Moz, it’s nothing like that. I just do the dishes, vacuum, walk the dog. Purely domestic stuff. To be honest, it's boring. I feel like I'm losing brain cells. I cook, but like I said, Peter’s not exactly a gourmet."
Mozzie looked surprised, and maybe skeptical. "Oh. Well that's...that’s good to hear. I mean, boring is tolerable, right? You can handle that for four years."
Neal forced a small smile. "That's assuming I’m going to stick around for four years."
"You have another plan?"
"Do you really think they can keep me here?"
Mozzie squirmed. "It's not a question of whether or not they can keep you. It's a question of whether it's worth the risk of being caught."
"Are you seriously saying I shouldn't run? Didn't think you'd be the type to bow to the establishment, Moz."
"Bite your tongue. Far be it from me to encourage any bowing. But I do believe in self-preservation, and you know some very bad things could happen to you if you're not careful. I'm just saying...if all the Suit is doing is keeping you bored, maybe four years is doable."
Mozzie was right-escape was risky. But he couldn't let his friend believe he'd acquiesced to his fate.
"I can't believe you. I thought you'd be supportive."
"I am! But what are you going to do? Do you even have a plan?"
"All I need is a passport and some money. If you can get those for me, I can handle everything else."
"Yeah? And what about that jewelry around your neck? Slave collars are almost impossible to get off without a real key. I'm not even sure if I could crack one."
"Luckily for me, I belong to an FBI agent. I can get a key."
Mozzie was silent, and Neal took it as a sign of agreement. Pushing further, he said, "I'll need money and ID in order to get out of here. Getting my collar off won't help if I'm stuck in Brooklyn."
"All right, fine. Give me a few days."
Neal wasn't as confident as he made himself sound. The truth was, while he'd daydreamed about escaping, he had no concrete plan. He wasn't actually sure how he would get a key to his collar.
He just couldn't bear to let Mozzie think he wasn't willing to try. Mozzie could talk all he wanted about being careful, but the Neal Caffrey he'd known wouldn't be made into a slave. Neal had to keep his old image alive.
Neal didn't think Mozzie really understood how things were now. And he couldn't let Mozzie know that sex was involved. He knew he'd never be able to explain how things were with Elizabeth, and he couldn't bear to admit he had sex with Peter.
Neal might not have had a lot of control over his situation, but at least he could control how his friends saw it.
He didn't see Mozzie again that week. But a few days after their meeting, he found a crumpled paper bag half-concealed in the park, sitting under the bench Mozzie had sat on.
On a hunch that it wasn't just garbage, Neal investigated and found his Nick Halden passport and a couple thousand in cash inside.
It couldn’t have been there long. He wondered if Mozzie was watching from a distance, but he didn't see him.
He snuck the bag back home with him. It was small enough that he managed to hold it under his jacket without any detection.
He stashed it in his bedroom closet, but he knew he’d need a better hiding place. His entire room was too risky--sometimes Peter came in and took a look around, and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t conduct a full search someday.
No, he would need to find some place that Peter wouldn't think to look. The next afternoon, Elizabeth was away at meetings for most of the day, so Neal took advantage of the time to look for a suitable place.
It couldn’t be somewhere where the Burkes were too likely to stumble upon it. Finally, opening the hall closet on the third floor, he noticed a large plastic tub marked "Christmas."
It was perfect. Christmas was months away yet. When it got closer to December, he could find another hiding place. He stashed the paper bag under a couple strands of Christmas tree lights. When he replaced the lid on the tub, he carefully brushed away the dust on the handles to obscure his fingerprints.
* * *
"I think I'll wait in the car."
They were running errands in Manhattan and Peter had just informed him that there was a final stop to make before heading home.
"Oh, no. I'm not leaving you in my car unattended," Peter said.
Neal propped his elbow on the car door and rested his head on his hand. "What am I going to do, steal it?"
"I'd rather not take the chance." Looking sideways at Neal, he said, "Don't sulk. You think I enjoy having to keep my eyes on you?"
The car in front of them slowed down, and Peter stomped on the breaks.
"Would you watch the road?"
"Don't tell me how to drive. You know, I was at this nice apartment yesterday, talking to a fraud victim. You wouldn’t believe how well her slave behaved. She didn't have to tell him to do anything. She even sent him out alone to run an errand."
"Not my fault if you choose to keep me on a tight leash. But seriously, making me come with you is cruel. Can I wait outside the car?"
"We're only going to be a minute. Sara doesn't even know you're with me. You're the last thing she's interested in today." Peter sighed. "Look, Neal, I don’t want to embarrass you, but there's no guarantee that you'll never run into anyone you know. Besides, everyone knows you're a slave now."
"So," Neal muttered, "I can't see my friends, but I have to see people who don't like me."
Peter looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "What 'friends' am I keeping you from seeing? Kate?"
Neal just shrugged.
Logically, Neal doubted Peter was dragging him along to see Sara Ellis just to torment him. Peter didn't seem like one for public humiliation. He'd told Neal he just had to meet with Sara about some stolen jewels they were both investigating.
The problem was, Peter's idea of public humiliation was different from Neal's.
But Neal decided it was best not to complain any more. He didn't want to discourage Peter from taking him on errands in the future.
After Peter parked the car, they walked two blocks to a café. Sara was sitting at a table out front, sipping a cup of coffee.
She smiled when she saw Neal. To Peter, she said, "I see you brought the new slave."
"We had some errands to run. I thought it'd be quicker to bring him along."
Peter sat across from Sara at the round table, and Neal took the seat between them. They both gave him a sharp look, and he realized it was because slaves weren't supposed to sit with free people without invitation. It probably would have been more appropriate for him to remain standing, or maybe to kneel on the hard tiled patio.
But since when had Neal cared about behaving like a good slave?
Turning to Sara, Peter said, "You said you had some ideas about a possible suspect?"
"Right," she said, reaching into her briefcase for a file. "Sterling-Bosch suspects it could have been an inside job. And I've stumbled upon some things that might be of interest." As she flipped through her notes, she glanced up at Neal and said, "So, how's slavery?"
"Surprisingly good, actually," Neal said brightly. "You can't beat free room and board. Thanks for asking."
"If it fits you so well, you can tell me where you stashed that Raphael. I'm sure you could get a few more years."
"I think I'm happy having him for the four," Peter said dryly.
Sara looked at Neal. "Better be careful, Caffrey. Sounds like you're already wearing out his patience."
"Oh, I think Agent Burke and I get along just fine."
"All right," Peter said softly, gently swatting Neal on the shoulder. "That's enough from you."
He wanted to argue that Sara had started it. Instead, he sat back and listened to them discuss the jewels. He could have helped them, probably. Who knew more about jewel heists than him? But he wasn't feeling charitable and, well, Peter had told him to be quiet.
Neal took in his surroundings. He wished Peter had left him with the car-maybe then he could have gone off on his own for a few minutes. He moved his fingers along the outside of one of his pockets. He had twenty-five dollars with him, taken from the stash that Moz had given him. It was a risk bringing it-if Peter caught him with it, he'd think Neal picked someone's pocket. But Neal had brought it in case he might get to do some unsupervised shopping.
As Peter promised, the stop at the café was brief. As were getting up from the table, Sara said to Peter, "I hope you're keeping a close eye on him. I've recovered four runaway slaves this year."
"Oh, Neal knows better than to run."
Sara smiled. "I hope you're right."
* * *
That night, while Neal was drying dishes, Elizabeth came over to him and rubbed his back.
"Neal, how would you like to come to bed with me tonight?"
"Doesn't sound bad...." Neal said, cautiously. The only time he and Elizabeth made love at night was when Peter was working late. Tonight, Peter was in the living room, watching a game on TV.
"How would you feel if Peter joined us?"
Neal turned away. "Now I'm less interested."
"Oh, sweetie, he just wants to be included. And I'd really like to see the two of you together." She ran a finger down his arm. "I think it'd be really sexy."
Neal wasn't fooled. He knew she was trying to help Peter.
But in her soft tone and pleading eyes, Neal also saw some genuineness. He didn't have the heart to disappoint her, and he certainly wasn't stupid enough to. Elizabeth was more charitable toward him than Peter, and he didn't want to jeopardize it by making her think he was difficult.
After finishing with the dishes, Neal joined Peter in the living room. While Peter finished watching the game, Neal sat on the floor with a pencil and a pad of paper and drew.
During a commercial, Peter looked down and said, "What are you drawing? It looks Medieval. Is that a Michelangelo sketch?"
"Good eye."
"Hm. Not sure I should be allowing you to make forgeries in my living room...."
Neal rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure I could fool the art world with lined paper and a number two pencil."
"All right you two," Elizabeth said, coming in from the kitchen, "no arguing." She joined Peter on the sofa and reached down to ruffle Neal's hair. "I like the drawing."
"If you guys got me an easel and some paint, I could do paintings for you. For the house."
"We'll see," Peter said dryly.
When the game ended fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth kissed Peter on the cheek and said, "Why don't we go upstairs? Neal is going to join us tonight."
Peter glanced down at Neal. "Oh, yeah?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Mm-hm."
Peter looked at him inquisitively. Neal was sure Peter was smart enough to question this turn of luck in his favor.
But the doubt was fleeting.
Neal followed them upstairs. He'd never been in the master bedroom with both of them. He wasn't sure what they were hoping for. But as a slave, there was nothing wrong with standing back and waiting for orders.
Peter and Elizabeth embraced for a minute, holding each other as though they were oblivious to Neal's presence. Neal had no particular desire to watch them make love. As Peter began to unbutton his shirt, Elizabeth excused herself. She grabbed an item of clothing from the bed and stepped out into the hall.
Peter sat on the bed with his shirt hanging open.
"C'mon," he said to Neal. "Get undressed and join us. El will be back in a minute."
Neal mechanically took off his clothes. He left his boxers on, but as he came over to the bed Peter stopped him and tugged them down to his knees. Neal obediently stepped out of them and joined Peter on the bed.
He'd never had a problem with nudity, so there shouldn't have been anything special about being naked now. But when he'd performed his sexual duties in the past, he'd always been at least partially clothed.
He lay on the bed while Peter took off his shoes and finished getting undressed.
Elizabeth still wasn't back. Peter sat with his back against the pillows and started stroking his cock.
"While we wait for El, you can start getting me hard."
Neal inched closer and Peter put a hand on his shoulder, making him lean over. Neal thought about stalling, because he was sure Peter would lose a lot of interest in him once Elizabeth returned. But he decided he would rather suck Peter's cock than stare at it in this cramped position.
He was sucking dutifully when he heard Elizabeth come back in the room. He strained his eyes to try to get a look at her without removing Peter's cock from his mouth.
"I see you decided to start without me," Elizabeth said.
The bed dipped as she climbed in. She was wearing an oversized pajama shirt. It was unbuttoned, and she slipped it off her shoulders and let it fall to the bed. She reached down and ran a hand through Neal's hair.
Neal's sucking lagged as he tried to look at her. Thankfully, Peter was too distracted to notice. She leaned over Neal to kiss Peter, and Neal could feel her breasts against the back of his head.
Peter moaned and pushed Neal aside.
"All right," he said. "I think that's enough."
Peter's cock looked painfully hard. As he held Elizabeth, he was careful to avoid contact with it, obviously wishing to draw this out.
But Neal didn't want to focus on Peter's cock any more than he had to. Certainly not with Elizabeth in front of him.
Peter murmured something in her ear and she smiled. She lay down on the bed, spread her legs, and motioned for Neal to come over.
Neal's breath quickened. He quickly moved into position between her legs. She stroked his hair with a light touch while he kissed the insides of her thighs.
"Guess he's eager to go down on a beautiful woman," Peter said. It didn't sound like a complaint. He sounded too proud and aroused to care about the inequality in Neal's attention.
"He knows what he's doing," Elizabeth said fondly.
As he ran his tongue over her clit, he felt Peter's hand working its way between his legs, touching his balls and his hardening cock. Neal reflexively tried to jerk away, but Elizabeth rubbed his shoulders as if to say that he should let Peter do it.
Neal couldn't help but get hard when he was with Elizabeth. He could do without Peter fondling him. But he couldn't pull away from Peter without pulling away from Elizabeth. Peter kept rubbing his cock, and Neal put up with the attention until Elizabeth finally pushed him away.
Neal moved to the other side of the bed. Her cheeks pink with lust, Elizabeth pulled Peter close to her and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Neal didn't know what he was supposed to do now. Did they want him to stay there and watch while they fucked? Was he supposed to go now that he'd helped with the foreplay? He didn't dare touch his own hard cock-he didn't want them to think he was getting off from watching them.
In the end, he leaned against the pillows and tried to make it look like he was keeping his eyes on the bed. In truth, he couldn't help but watch and listen to the panting and moaning on the other side of the bed.
When they'd finished, Elizabeth sidled up to Neal, who was still aching and hard. With a kiss to his cheek, she started stroking his cock.
Neal thought about telling her it was unnecessary. He didn't know if he could come with Peter leering at him a couple feet away. But he couldn't help himself. Just as Elizabeth brought him to the brink, she let go and another, larger hand took over. Before he could react or move away, he came on Peter's hand. He was overcome with pleasure and embarrassment.
He shuddered, feeling exhausted and vulnerable. He realized that Peter and Elizabeth could do anything they wanted with him, and that they were the only people he had right now who would make him feel good.
Peter and Elizabeth left him there while they went to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Neal stretched out on a cool patch of the sheets while he waited. As soon as they were finished, he grabbed his boxers and headed for the bathroom.
He took his time cleaning up. It was a relief to clean the stickiness from his stomach. Now that the post-orgasmic glow was fading, he was embarrassed that he'd let Peter get him off. It was too personal, and up until now Neal had prided himself on not giving Peter anything of himself.
As he pulled his boxers on, he remembered that the rest of his clothes were still in the master bedroom. As he'd been in the bathroom for several minutes, he wasn't sure if it was too late to go back and retrieve them.
The bedroom door was still open, and Neal decided to take his chances. Peeking inside he said, "I just wanted to grab my clothes."
They were dressed in their pajamas and in bed. Peter was reading a book.
"That's fine," Elizabeth said. "But we meant to ask if you'd like to sleep with us tonight."
Neal raised his eyebrows. "You mean, in your bed?"
Peter glanced up from his book. "I'm not having you sleep on the floor. Last thing I need is to trip over you in the middle of the night. C'mon, we thought you deserved a treat."
Neal wasn't sure if sleeping in their bed counted as a treat. He was going to turn the offer down, but Elizabeth got up and grabbed a spare pillow that she'd set on the chair in the corner. She put it on the bed between her and Peter's pillows and patted the bed.
Well, if it was just for tonight....It wasn't Neal's ideal sleeping arrangement, but he could humor them.
Neal climbed into bed. Elizabeth got in after him, securing him in between her and Peter. Neal burrowed under the covers and tried to figure out the most comfortable position. He curled his arm under his head to take pressure off his neck.
"You okay?" Elizabeth asked. "Is it your collar?"
"It's nothing. It just gets uncomfortable if I lie on it wrong."
Peter set down his book. "You know, they sell felt that you can stick between your neck and the metal to make it softer. We can get some for you if it'll help. It's not a big deal."
"Yeah? I thought you told me not to complain."
Elizabeth made a questioning sound and Peter said, "No, I never said that. I warned you because I didn't want you begging for a new collar on a whim, or looking for an excuse to have it taken off. Of course you're going to have some complaints-those collars are designed to be more durable than comfortable."
"It's all right. I'm used to it."
He'd been wearing a collar for two months, counting his time in training. That first collar had been even worse. At least the one Peter got him had softer edges and was lighter. But Neal didn't know if he'd ever get used to the damn thing entirely.
Peter returned to his book, and Elizabeth switched off the lamp on her nightstand. Normally, Neal would read before going to sleep, or he would just lie in bed and think. He couldn't do either tonight. He could never let himself relax enough around them to lose himself in thought.
Surprisingly, it wasn't unpleasant. Maybe it was a treat to sleep in the Burkes' bed tonight after all, though not for the reasons they may have intended. It was nice to curl up under the covers and not think about Kate, or how tired he was getting of slavery.
He dozed off quickly, but slept fitfully. He'd never slept well in a strange bed. He woke up a couple hours later to find the room dark and both Peter and Elizabeth asleep. He woke up a couple more times until morning came and Peter's alarm went off.
To Neal's shame, he discovered that he'd migrated closer to Peter, and was pressed against him. Peter didn't seem to mind at all. He turned off his alarm and hooked an arm around Neal's waist. On the other side of the bed, Elizabeth stirred.
"This is nice," Peter said softly. "I'm glad we had you sleep here. You do toss in your sleep, though."
"I could've warned you if you asked."
Peter held him for another minute before getting up.
Chapter 6
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