Fic: The Devil You Know (7/25)
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: 6800 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.
Peter's anger may have been temporary, but the consequences were longer-lasting.
Neal was no longer allowed to take walks unsupervised. To prevent him from sneaking out when he was home alone, Peter made it clear that he checked Neal's GPS frequently. When he got home from work, he made a display of getting on the computer and checking Neal's movements over the course of the day.
Neal was starting to feel like a gold bar locked up in Fort Knox. Except, he knew how to get gold out of Fort Knox. Getting himself out of a Brooklyn townhouse for a few minutes of fresh air and solitude shouldn't have been difficult.
To add insult to injury, Peter wouldn't leave him alone. One afternoon, Neal was looking out the front window when the phone rang. It was Peter.
"Hey," Neal said, "did you need something?"
"Nope, just seeing how it's going."
Seriously? Looking at his tracking data wasn't enough?
"I'm staying in the house like you said. Right now, I'm staring out the window and wasting away from boredom."
"Well, when you're done with that, you can clean Satchmo's food bowl."
"Yes, sir."
"That's what I like to hear."
Neal hung up with a sigh. He got up and attended to Satchmo's food and water bowls. Satchmo watched while Neal washed and refilled them.
"There you go," Neal said. "You'd probably rather have a walk about now, but we're in lockdown."
Satchmo whined and nibbled at the food.
It wasn't like Neal couldn't handle an afternoon at home. Usually, he cherished them, grateful for the peace and quiet. But he liked it to be on his terms, and being confined to the house was starting to do a number on him.
Wandering back into the living room, he stopped in front of the bookshelf. He was trying to decide which of El's art books to look at when something caught his eye.
It was one of Peter's slave training books. A disturbing number of post-it notes stuck out of the top. Peter had really been studying.
Neal pulled out the book and flopped down on the sofa. The book was called Owning and Training the New Slave. He opened it to the first chapter and started to read.
Many people are wary of purchasing and training newly-sentenced slaves. It's true that an inexperienced slave can require significant training, and the period of time between sentencing and auction offers little insight into the slave's skills and personality that could help you make an educated purchase. However, the effort you put into training your new slave can more than pay off in the long run. Buying a new slave means you can bond with it and train it to your desire, without competing with previous masters and their training.
Neal raised an eyebrow and flipped to a page that Peter had bookmarked. To his displeasure, he saw that it was in the middle of a chapter about sex.
Regular, gentle training will help your slave become accustomed to your desires. Be prepared to take things slow. Though your focus may or may not be on your slave's pleasure, it's good to make sex a mutually agreeable experience. Try not to make sex a source of conflict. If your slave is content, it will give you little trouble."
Was that was Peter thought was going to happen? That Neal would cooperate if the training was "gentle"? He gave Peter some credit for wanting his cooperation, but he wasn't fooled, either. Peter just wanted to make things easier for himself. At least Peter hadn't touched him since Thursday.
Neal turned to another bookmarked page. This one was in a chapter titled "Disciplining Your Slave."
Some disobedience is common. New slaves often make innocent mistakes, such as forgetting rules about speech or furniture restrictions. With proper reinforcement, your slave will eventually learn the rules. It's also normal for new slaves to intentionally act out. This can be a way of expressing frustration, or a desperate attempt to resist authority. It's important that you deal immediately with undesirable behavior, and this chapter will outline different ways to discipline your slave effectively. But don't be too quick to worry that your slave's actions are a sign of serious behavioral issues. By six to eight months, most slaves adjust to their new lives and masters. But it's important that you provide clear boundaries and fair and consistent discipline.
Neal closed the book with a frown. He didn't think about it often, but he knew Peter had never owned a slave before. Neal wished he'd paid more attention to slavery in the past. Maybe then he'd know more about the type of advice masters got. He could understand Peter's motivations and anticipate his moves.
Elizabeth was more confident with slaves. Neal was a bit ashamed to admit it, but he had a hard time disobeying her. He told himself it was because she was kind to him, but it was also that she knew how to wield authority without making it so obtrusive.
Peter was too used to throwing his weight around as an FBI agent. And unfortunately, he seemed to take the advice about "consistent discipline" to heart. Though from Neal's perspective, it was hardly "fair."
He tried to stay on Peter's good side after the paddling. But the truth was, they were both on edge. Peter may not have been mad, but his patience was thin. And Neal wouldn't forget the disappointment of the failed meeting with Kate anytime soon.
A couple days later, Neal made the mistake of snapping at Peter when he asked why the refrigerator hadn't been cleaned out yet.
"I'll do it now," Neal said.
"That's fine, but I want to know why you didn't do it yesterday when I told you to."
"Because I have more important things to worry about than your trash."
Peter put his hands on his hips. "Watch it. I don't like your tone."
Neal knew he was going too far. Peter didn't mind the occasional smart comment. He even seemed to find Neal's attitude endearing. But outright backtalk was a different matter.
But he couldn't help it.
"I'm sorry," he said sharply, "I guess you'd like me to be more subservient?"
"I'd like you to show me a little more respect."
"Like you showed me when you took away a letter that was meant for me?"
"We're not dealing with that letter right now, so you can just put that on hold. And I'm over what happened. I suggest you move on, too."
How could he when Kate's letter was hanging over his head, just out of reach?
Peter continued. "Your attitude has been getting worse since Thursday. I can't say I blame you, but it's gone on long enough. And now you're letting your chores fall by the wayside. I don't want to have to discipline you again, but I will."
Neal thought of the paddle. The memory was almost enough to make him back down. Almost.
"Fine. I'm your slave-do whatever you want."
Peter's eyes narrowed. "Okay. If that's how you want it."
With that, he turned and left the room. Neal swallowed and wondered if he should follow. He was sure that Peter was going to get the paddle, and he cursed himself for pushing things so far. He was better than this. He was a good conman. He knew how to handle people.
He opened the refrigerator and slowly started to throw out old take-out boxes and expired bottles of salad dressing. If Peter came back to find him busy, it might help.
Peter returned a few minutes later. He didn't have the paddle, but what he was carrying didn't look much better.
"Peter? I-is that a gag?"
"Yep. Open up."
It was a black ball gag with a leather strap. Neal was too shocked at first to move, but when Peter brought the ball up to his mouth, he stepped back and bumped into the counter.
"This is ridiculous."
"It's appropriate. Now open up."
Neal tried to speak, but Peter stuck the ball in his mouth. He buckled the strap around Neal's head and walked over to the timer on the refrigerator. He set it for fifteen minutes.
If Neal could speak, he'd say that a gag was demeaning and unnecessary. But maybe that was the point, to embarrass him. It felt strange, too. He fought to keep the saliva from building up in his mouth.
After a few minutes, Peter's cellphone vibrated. Answering it, he got up and walked out of the room.
Once Peter was out of sight, Neal reached behind his head and unbuckled the strap. He extracted the ball from his mouth and flexed his jaw.
He had a few minutes of respite before he heard Peter's footsteps returning. He hurried to replace the gag, but he must have misgauged how far away Peter was. He was still fiddling with the buckle when Peter came back into the room and froze.
Realizing he was caught, Neal took out the gag and lowered his hands. "I just took it out for a second," he said. "My jaw was getting sore."
"Oh, so you're saying you prefer a sore ass?"
Neal swallowed. "I didn't say that...."
"I can't turn my back for five minutes...." Peter grumbled.
Neal cocked his head. "C'mon, Peter. You didn't even cuff me. If you're going to gag someone, you have to restrain their hands."
"I'll remember that."
Peter walked over and yanked the gag from Neal's hands. Neal stood still while Peter put it back on him. Peter re-set the timer for fifteen minutes, starting again from the beginning.
While he waited it out, Neal sat at the dining room table with Peter. He crossed his arms and kept his eyes downcast.
When the timer finally went off, Peter got up and stopped it without a word. He unbuckled the gag and then walked around to face Neal. He hooked his finger through the buckle and dangled the gag.
"What was the lesson here?" Peter asked.
Neal avoided Peter's eyes. He didn't intend to answer, but it was clear Peter was waiting for him to respond. "Watch what I say."
"Right." Peter reached out with his free hand and patted Neal's shoulder. "It's not that I don't get it. I know things have been stressful for you lately. But that doesn't mean you can be disrespectful and shirk your duties. My being too soft on you is what caused the problem in the first place." He paused and added, "But if you want to actually talk, you know, about Kate or whatever, we can. You know that, right?"
"Yeah," Neal said softly. But he wouldn't. He had to keep some parts of his life to himself. His thoughts and his past were all he had that were his own.
* * *
Deep down, Neal knew he had a tough time being rational when Kate was involved. If he hadn't been desperate to win her back, he wouldn't have been arrested in the first place. And if he hadn't been so bitterly disappointed over the failed meeting and confiscated letter, he might have been able to think more strategically.
Eventually, he started to regain some of his optimism. He had to look at things practically: He wanted his privileges back, and he wanted Kate's letter. In order to get both of those things, he needed to suck up to Peter and Elizabeth.
He decided to start with food. It was hard not to win people over with good cooking. It wasn't difficult to convince Elizabeth to let him splurge on ingredients, and one afternoon, Neal spent all day chopping vegetables and grinding fresh herbs. When Elizabeth came home, he insisted that she relax and let him finish the preparation on his own.
Dinner was a risky venture, because Neal never knew when Peter would have to work late. And re-heated salmon wouldn't be nearly as impressive. But Peter came home just as Neal was finishing.
Elizabeth kissed Peter on the cheek and said, "Honey, Neal's making salmon for us tonight. He's been cooking since before I got home."
Peter looked over Elizabeth's shoulder at Neal, who was at the stove with his sleeves rolled up. "Oh yeah? Smell's good. Any special occasion I don't know about?"
"No occasion, I was just in the mood to cook and figured you guys would like a nice dinner."
Peter raised his eyebrows and looked a little suspicious. Neal did like to cook, but he didn't always make this much effort.
He thought his rolled-up sleeves and the hair falling into his face helped create the appearance of hard work.
Peter walked over to the stove and sniffed at the vegetables that were cooking on the stove.
"Is that squash?" he asked, skeptically.
Neal gently swatted him away. "You'll like it. Trust me."
"Hm."
Neal was certain Peter would like it. But at least good cooking was something he could enjoy, regardless.
It was still good to see Peter and Elizabeth enjoy their meals. Especially Peter. Neal wasn't sure if Peter was the sort to give an A for effort, so if Neal wanted to impress him, he had to pull it off.
"You know," Peter said with a smile, "you've raised the bar for yourself, here."
Neal shrugged. "You knew I could cook. If you give me the ingredients, I can make meals like this more often."
Neal didn't speak much over dinner. Peter dominated the conversation, telling Elizabeth about a case at work. Neal listened without showing too much interest.
But later, when Neal was clearing the table, Peter said, "Hey, it's a nice evening and I was going to take Satchmo out. You wanna join us? Dishes can wait."
Neal looked up. "Yeah, sure."
He could feel his heart beat faster, but he kept a casual smile on his face. He'd been under virtual house arrest since he snuck out.
Even going out with Peter was an improvement.
His happiness soured when he stepped into the living room to find Peter pulling his leash off the hook on the wall.
He wanted to question the point of it. Peter couldn't actually think he'd try to run. And if Neal wanted to run, he didn't think he'd have a hard time catching Peter off-guard and wrenching the leash from his grasp. No, it was just one of Peter's stupid attempts to prove who was in charge.
But Neal bit his tongue and let Peter clip it to his collar. He reminded himself of the necessity to take small steps like this.
At least it was dark out.
When he got outside, he was glad he conceded. It was a crisp, clear night, and Neal breathed deeply to fill his lungs with fresh air. He hadn't been out much after dark, and the neighborhood looked different. He automatically studied his surroundings, a part of his brain telling him that it was important. Logically, he knew he had no plans to run. But his instinct was to be prepared.
"That was a nice dinner tonight," Peter said.
"Like I said, I enjoy cooking."
Satchmo slowed to sniff at a lamppost, and Peter and Neal paused to let him satisfy his curiosity.
"I'm glad," Peter said. "It's good for you to have some productive, meaningful pursuits."
Neal couldn't help but smirk. "Is that something you read in one of your slave books?"
Peter returned the smile. "Yeah, maybe." He shook his head. "I don't know what some of that stuff even means. I understand criminals. But this slave business is a whole other ball game."
Neal scoffed. "Oh, you're telling me?"
"Yeah, I know it's an adjustment. That's why I have to be the bad guy sometimes and enforce the rules. Like it or not, you're going to have to learn to be a good slave."
Neal bowed his head and nodded. "No, I understand that now. I do."
Looking at Peter out of the corner of his eye, he saw another brief flash of skepticism like he'd seen earlier that evening. He wondered if he'd pushed it too far tonight. Peter wasn't stupid.
But Peter clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze.
"C'mon," he said. "It's getting cold. Let's head back."
* * *
For the next couple weeks, Neal did his best to be a good slave.
He spent whole afternoons cleaning up without being told to. He organized the junk drawer in the kitchen. (It was always interesting to go through the things that people discarded or forgot. And Peter and El would never notice that he took some paperclips, string, and extra pencils for his own use.)
He didn't complain about being led around on the leash. He rubbed Peter's feet and shoulders when he came home exhausted.
But after two weeks of cleaning and obeying with a smile on his face, Neal didn't have anything to show for it except a loss of dignity. He still didn't have Kate's letter.
He tried not to be hasty. He knew the value of a long con. But suddenly he wasn't convinced that this con would pay off. He also knew the risks of trying to pull a con on someone who could see through him. For all he knew, Peter was aware of what he was doing and had chosen to reap the benefits of it indefinitely.
And then there was another tactic that Neal would barely consider.
Peter still hadn't touched him. He hadn't demanded any form of sexual service in weeks. At first, Neal had attributed it to Peter being unhappy with him, but now he wasn't sure. Maybe the novelty had simply worn off. Maybe Peter had realized he had finite stamina, and preferred to exhaust it with his wife.
Peter's attraction to him was something Neal didn't want to mess with. But maybe a few small reminders would help stir Peter's sympathy and give Neal a card to play with.
One evening, he came downstairs while Peter and Elizabeth were watching TV. Peter did a double take, narrowed his eyes, and said, "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
"I'm going to get in the shower," Neal said casually.
As he walked into the kitchen, he let his pajama bottoms hang low on his hips. He got a drink of water to justify coming downstairs, and then walked back through the living room. He took his time, giving Peter the chance to get a look. He didn't look at Peter, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter watching him.
While he was running the water for his shower, he started to feel disgusted with himself. He shivered, suddenly aware of how cool the house was getting now that it was nearly November.
He never would have considered himself desperate, but now he wondered if that was all this was: desperation.
Except, "this" was just another part of the con. Was pandering to Peter's sexual interest any worse than fooling Peter into thinking he could be a good slave?
Stepping into the shower, he rested his forehead against the cool tile for a minute while the water ran down his back.
Then he put the matter out of his mind.
* * *
The following Saturday, Elizabeth was doing a wedding and Neal and Peter had the house to themselves.
Ever since breakfast, Neal had caught Peter looking at him when he thought Neal wouldn't see. It made the hairs rise on the back of Neal's neck.
For the past couple hours, Peter had been looking over a file from work. He had everything spread out on the coffee table. Neal had decided he didn't feel like spending the afternoon alone, so he was sitting by Peter's legs, idly sketching on a pad of yellow lined paper.
Then he felt Peter's hand in his hair. He tensed.
"Your hair's getting long," Peter said.
Neal scoffed quietly. He was just noticing this now?
"That's what happens when I can't get it cut for a few months."
Peter murmured and tugged on a lock of his hair. "We'll have to do something about it. I have some clippers. Maybe we could take a little off...."
Neal whipped his head around. "You're not seriously suggesting you cut my hair."
Peter shrugged innocently. "Just trim it a little."
"No, Peter, you can't. That's cruel and unusual, and you know it."
Peter rolled his eyes. "You're just being dramatic."
"Yeah, well, some things should be left to professionals. Think about it-how would you feel if your barber bought a gun and decided to investigate art thefts in his spare time?"
"All right, all right," Peter said. He grumbled under his breath, and then sighed. "El likes your hair, anyway. She probably wouldn't want me messing with it."
"Good. She's smart."
Peter playfully cuffed him on the back of the head. Then he leaned forward and started straightening up the file he'd been looking through.
"Enough work for now. I was thinking you and I could have some fun today," Peter said.
Neal knew it. He'd known it since Peter first eyed him over breakfast. He'd had a sense of foreboding all day.
"Fun...." he said.
"Yes, fun. C'mon, let's take a shower."
"Together?"
"Together."
Neal pushed himself to his feet. "You never struck me as the type to want your slave to bathe you."
Then again, he didn't believe that bathing was what Peter actually had in mind.
Neal had never showered with Elizabeth. He'd massaged her shoulders once while she soaked in the bath, and that was all right. If Peter had wanted something like that, Neal could handle it.
But once they were in the shower, it took him less than a minute to decide it wasn't working out. There was no room to move-Peter had him pinned in, trapped under the showerhead. When Neal tried to step around, Peter took his movement as an invitation to put his hands on his hips and pull him close. He planted a kiss on Neal's lips.
Peter's groin was pressed against Neal's. Neal tried to pull away, but Peter still had him locked in a kiss and his grip on Neal's hips was surprisingly strong.
Peter had never been this physical with him before, and Neal was unprepared for it. Even when he'd suggested the shower, Neal somehow hadn't realized that it would mean this much contact. The feeling was so foreign that for a minute, Neal didn't fight it. He let Peter push his tongue past his lips.
Then reality hit him. He realized Peter was going to pull him across a line he didn't want to cross. He broke off the kiss and turned his face away from the water. Water still trickled down to his nose and mouth, and he coughed.
"I feel like I'm downing, here," he said. "Could you...."
"Oh, right."
Peter let go of his hips and gave him space to move. The spell was broken, and Neal took a deep breath, relishing the small but comfortable distance between them.
Peter grabbed the bar of soap and started to wash himself. He soaped up a spare washcloth and handed it to Neal, and Neal realized they actually were going to bathe. But Peter wasn't content to let him handle it on his own. He soaped up his hands and ran them over Neal's chest and abs. Finally, he stroked Neal's cock and fondled his balls with a soapy palm.
Before Neal could object, Peter turned him around so that he was facing the wall of the shower. Peter's fingers found their way into the crack of his ass, and Neal made an undignified noise of protest. Peter ignored him. Using one of the washcloths, he rubbed Neal's hole. He wasn't rough, but the quick efficiency of his actions made Neal squirm.
"You're not very good at this sexy shower thing," he said.
"I didn't ask for a critique."
When they were finished, Neal rinsed off and got out as quickly as he could. They both wrapped towels around their waists, and Neal tried to escape upstairs for a clean pair of boxers. But Peter grabbed him by the arm and steered him into the master bedroom.
"Have a seat," Peter said, pointing to the bed.
Neal flopped down. He'd toweled off his hair, but it was still wet. Drops of water ran down the back of neck.
While Neal air-dried on the bed, Peter walked over to the dresser. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a lacquered wooden box. "You know, I didn't just buy a paddle and gag at the slave store. I got you some fun things, too." He set the box on the bed. "Go on, take a look."
There was nothing Peter could buy from a slave supply store that he would find "fun." Peter knew that, too, which meant he was really trying to sell Neal on whatever was in that box. It didn’t bode well.
Neal lifted the lid and peered at the contents. "They’re butt plugs."
"They’re training plugs."
"What’s the difference?"
"No difference. They're called training plugs when they're meant for training slaves who aren’t used to penetration." He carefully enunciated penetration, making each syllable like a drumbeat on Neal's nerves.
There were six black, silicone plugs. The smallest looked harmless enough. The largest made Neal's ass tighten just from looking at it. How much "training" did Peter intend to give him?
Even worse was the idea of what Peter was training him for. It wasn't hard to guess. First it was going to be the plugs, and then it'd be Peter's dick.
"The idea," Peter said, "is to get you used to it."
"How do you know I'm not used to it?"
Peter raised his eyebrows. "You've had anal sex?"
"Not exactly. But c'mon, Peter, I'm not inexperienced. I've tried stuff before."
He may have been overstating it. He'd let a woman try fingering him once, but that was a long time ago, before Kate, and he didn't remember much about it except that it was okay.
His fresher memories were of the processing center. There hadn't been any sexual training, but he remembered his intake exam all too well.
He wondered if he'd made a mistake in implying he had experience. But he didn't like Peter treating him like some sort of blushing virgin.
Peter's hand hovered over the box with the plugs. After a moment of thought, he selected one of smaller ones. It wasn't the smallest, however, and it didn't look small enough. The haze from the strangeness of the shower wore off, and Neal was starting to get nervous.
Before he could object, Peter reached over to Neal's lap and tried to undo his towel. Neal jerked away.
"Maybe we should start with a small plug."
Peter looked down at the plug in his hand. "This is small. If I used the smallest one, you wouldn't even feel it." Peter sighed, exasperated. "You just said you have experience with this."
"Yeah, with fingers. Not...objects."
Peter sighed again. "You know, you've been so good lately, I was hoping you'd given up on being difficult."
Yeah, well, Neal had hoped that Peter's "fun" would be limited to the shower today, but clearly he was mistaken.
Peter continued. "Now, I'm sorry if you're not into this sort of stuff. I really am. But you're not calling the shots here. And I think if you give it a chance, you'll really like it."
"I doubt that."
Peter looked at the plug again. "You think the plug is too big? Is that the problem? Are you nervous?"
Neal scoffed. "I'm not nervous. It's just...last time, it was uncomfortable."
"What last time? What were you doing?"
"At the processing center. When they were examining me."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "Did they do something to hurt you?"
Neal shook his head quickly. "No. Nothing like that. I'm just saying, it's not fun to get examined assembly-line style by an overworked doctor with a speculum."
"Ah, right. Well, this is different. I'll take my time, use plenty of lube, and if it's really uncomfortable, you can tell me. That sound good to you?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Peter rubbed his arm soothingly. Slowly, he brought his hands down to Neal's lap and undid his towel.
"It won't hurt," Peter said. "Now c'mon, lie on your stomach."
Neal slowly moved into position. Peter, impatient by now, scooped him up and deposited him on his stomach.
"You're strong...."
As if to prove the point, he lifted Neal's hips and slid the towel underneath his groin. Neal found it amusing that Peter was concerned about him coming on the bed.
He watched while Peter got a box of wipes and a bottle of lube out of the nightstand. He started with his fingers. He coated his middle and index fingers with lube and pried Neal's cheeks apart with his clean hand.
The lube was cold. Neal had to fight not to jump when he felt Peter's finger pressing against his hole.
If he thought the shower was undignified, getting fingered by Peter was much worse. He buried his face in the pillow when Peter's index finger slid inside him.
"Oh, yeah," Peter said with a breathy chuckle. "You're too tense, though. Loosen up. The plug won't hurt if you're relaxed."
Easier said than done. Neal was used to relaxing under pressure, but it was different with Peter, somehow. Peter always knew how to get to him.
Peter worked his finger in and out of Neal's hole, and then added the second one. It was a tighter fit, but it didn't hurt. Then Peter slowed his movements, and pressed down.
"Pretty sure that's your prostate. You feel that?"
Neal shifted on the bed. "Not much."
He did feel it, though. A little. It didn't hurt and it wasn't uncomfortable, but he wasn't sure if it felt good. He didn't want Peter to do anything that felt good.
He was satisfied when Peter gave a disappointed murmur.
"Why do you care if I feel it?" Neal asked. "Why are we doing this? If you want to screw me, no one's stopping you."
Peter kept fucking him with his fingers. "Because I figure you should get something out of it. And I like doing this. It's so much better than just fucking you." He squeezed Neal's ass with his free hand. "You're always trying to stay in control," he said, his voice low. "You need to learn who owns you, and embrace it. I want you to come with my cock up your ass."
The bluntness surprised him. Neal wondered how often he thought about that while jerking off. He wondered if Peter had thought about this before he arrested him, or if it only came later.
Peter pulled his fingers out. He used a wipe to clean the lube off of them, and then reached for the plug. He coated it with lube and positioned the silicone tip at the entrance to Neal's ass.
He pushed it in slowly. It stretched him more than Peter's fingers had, but it didn't hurt. Peter drew it and out. The plug had a soft rippled texture, and to Neal's shame, he found that the back and forth motion felt almost...good.
"See?" Peter said. "It's the perfect size. You didn't have anything to be nervous about."
He pushed the plug in further, until it was fully-seated and Neal's hole closed around the tapered base. Then Peter sat back.
"I think we'll leave that in for a bit. You can move if you want."
Neal didn't know if he should. The plug didn't hurt, but he felt full, and there was some odd but not unpleasant pressure. He moved slowly and experimentally, and froze when he felt the plug rub against his prostate.
Sitting up, he got his first good look at Peter since he'd made him lie on his stomach. Peter's dick was half hard and peeking out from the folds of the towel still around his waist.
Peter's breathing was accelerated, and he had an aroused flush to his cheeks. He fumbled with his towel and dropped it to the bed.
"Think I need that nice mouth of yours now," Peter said.
Neal braced himself for Peter to pull him over for a blowjob. But Peter didn't.
Instead, he said, "You know what rimming is?"
Neal blinked. "What?"
"You're a worldly guy. I'm sure you're familiar with rimming."
"I'm familiar with it. I was just hoping you're speaking in non sequiturs...."
Peter chuckled. "No, I mean I want your tongue on my ass while I jerk off. Why don't you kneel on the floor? Probably be easiest."
Neal just glared at him.
Neal considered himself open-minded when it came to sex. Under different circumstances, with someone else, he had no idea how he'd feel about trying this. But he knew he had no intention of putting his mouth anywhere near Peter's ass. There had to be some limits.
With a sigh, Peter took him by the arm and pulled him off the bed. He pushed Neal to his knees by the bedside, and then turned so that his back was facing Neal. He lifted one knee up on the bed and spread his legs. With one hand, he spread his buttocks. With the other, he started jerking his cock.
Neal looked at Peter's asshole with disgust. He couldn't shake the thought that this was some sort of punishment. Or perhaps Peter was trying to make a point about blowjobs not being so bad.
"You can't really expect me to do this."
"Clearly, I do. C'mon, Neal, it won't hurt you. And we just showered."
Neal didn't budge.
"Neal," Peter said after a moment, a warning edge creeping into his voice, "I'm getting impatient."
"Tough!" Neal snapped. "I'm not doing it. So what are you going to do? Paddle me?"
Peter stopped stroking his cock. "I don’t know. Maybe I should, if it'll help you learn your responsibilities."
"Fine. I don't care."
He wasn't scared of being paddled. He knew Peter wouldn't injure him, so it was just a matter of resilience. Eventually, Peter would have to give up.
Peter turned around. He stared down at Neal with his hands on his hips. It was hard to feel threatened by him when he was naked. Of course, Neal was naked, too.
Neal stared back at him, willing him to break first. Finally, Peter did.
Peter sighed and shook his head. He sat down on the bed.
"Look, I don't want to be the bad guy, here. But you have certain duties. And I was looking forward to having a good time with you." He reached over and stroked Neal's cheek. "I'm not going to paddle you. I don't-I don't want to force you. I know if you want to keep being stubborn, there's only so much I can do to make you cooperate."
Neal's lips twitched. Maybe he'd get out of this, after all.
"But," Peter said with a small, calculating smile, "if you don't cooperate, I'm not going to give you a reward."
Neal's gaze shot up to Peter's eyes.
Peter chuckled. "That's what you want, isn't it? I'm not stupid-I know you've been behaving these last few weeks because you want something."
Neal weighed his options. He could be strong, and keep refusing Peter. He'd send a message. On the other hand, he imagined all his hard work going to waste. He realized now that he'd been stupid to think that Peter would give him what he wanted without making some ridiculous demands in the process. Peter could hold this over his head indefinitely. He could refuse to give him anything he wanted until he agreed to do this. Peter couldn't lose.
"Kate's letter," Neal blurted out. "If you give me her letter, I'll do it."
Peter frowned. He looked uncomfortable, and Neal couldn't figure out why.
"No. I'm sorry, but that's not on the table."
"Why?"
"I'm not discussing it right now."
"Then forget it," Neal spat.
Peter ignored his anger. "Choose something else, and we might have a deal. I was thinking of an outing next weekend."
Neal looked away and pretended not to consider it.
"Maybe a visit to a museum," Peter said, tempting him.
"Do I get to choose the museum?"
It would be just like Peter to take him to some sports museum.
"Within reason. You seemed pretty interested in that Picasso exhibit. I saw you looking at the article about it in the paper."
Neal was interested, but he hadn't thought there was any chance of the Burkes letting him go. For someone who investigated art thefts, Peter had little appreciation for the arts. And he'd considered asking Elizabeth, but she'd been busy lately, and he didn't want to abuse her kindness.
Still, he didn't want to degrade himself. He almost wished Peter would paddle him, or try to force him. It'd make the decision easier somehow.
Then again, Neal had never been able to find dignity in deprivation. He wasn't Mozzie, who was willing to live in sparse safe houses and storage lockers in order to stick to some ideal.
If it meant he could get something of his old life back, did it matter what happened in the privacy of the bedroom?
"The Picasso exhibit ends after next weekend," Neal said. "What happens if you have to work and we can't go?"
"We'll go."
Neal shot him a skeptical look.
"Worse comes to worst, we'll do something else. But I promise you'll get your reward."
Neal nodded. "All right," he said quietly. "I'll do it."
Peter smiled and patted Neal on the shoulder. "Good. I knew we could come to an understanding."
He stood and resumed his previous position. Neal inched forward on his knees and decided not to draw things out any more. Leaning forward, he stuck out his tongue and tentatively touched it to Peter's hole. Peter took a sharp breath and jerked, and Neal sat back on his heels.
His heart was pounding. Leaning forward, he gave it another try. He wasn't sure what he was expecting it to be like. It wasn't all that different from any other type of oral sex. Except, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to do. He couldn't rely on previous experience to guess what Peter wanted.
He tried kissing and licking Peter's cheeks, and then licked around his hole. Peter's muscles twitched. Dipping his tongue down further, Neal discovered that Peter liked having his perineum licked.
"Oh, yeah," Peter said with a moan. "That's good. Keep doing that."
Peter was jerking his cock, and his movements grew faster. His hips rocked back and forth. Neal wanted him to finish quickly, wanted to finish this "job" and get the plug out of his ass, so he redoubled his efforts. He kissed and licked and blew warm breath against Peter's skin. He pressed his lips against Peter's ass.
Peter's muscles tightened, and he grunted. He was coming. Neal sat back on his heels and waited for him to compose himself.
Peter grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and wiped the head of his cock. His face was flushed. Looking down at Neal, he said, "Good job. I knew you could do it."
"If I don’t get my reward...."
"Don't worry. I keep my promises." He tossed the tissue in the wastebasket. Then he lifted a bare foot and gently nudged Neal's soft dick. "You don't want to get off?"
"I'm fine."
"Hm. All right. Let's get the plug out."
Neal readily stood up and leaned over the bed. Peter eased the plug out and, after telling Neal to wait there, took it to the bathroom to clean it.
When he came back, he put the plug back in the box with the others. Then he handed the box to Neal, along with the bottle of lube.
"Here. I want you to hang onto these."
"What for?"
"What do you think? So you can use them. I thought you might want to play around with them on your own."
Neal handed them back to Peter. "I don't want them."
"Well, you're taking them." He thrust them back into Neal's hands. "You don't have to use them if you don't want to. But you might want to get some practice in. And they'd better not go missing. These were expensive."
"Fine. I'll stick them in the closet or something."
Peter smiled. "That's my boy."
At least Neal had an excuse to leave. He went upstairs and put the plugs and lube at the very back of the shelf in the closet. With any luck, maybe Peter would forget about them.
Chapter 8
This entry was originally posted at http://citrinesunset.dreamwidth.org/113128.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: 6800 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.
Peter's anger may have been temporary, but the consequences were longer-lasting.
Neal was no longer allowed to take walks unsupervised. To prevent him from sneaking out when he was home alone, Peter made it clear that he checked Neal's GPS frequently. When he got home from work, he made a display of getting on the computer and checking Neal's movements over the course of the day.
Neal was starting to feel like a gold bar locked up in Fort Knox. Except, he knew how to get gold out of Fort Knox. Getting himself out of a Brooklyn townhouse for a few minutes of fresh air and solitude shouldn't have been difficult.
To add insult to injury, Peter wouldn't leave him alone. One afternoon, Neal was looking out the front window when the phone rang. It was Peter.
"Hey," Neal said, "did you need something?"
"Nope, just seeing how it's going."
Seriously? Looking at his tracking data wasn't enough?
"I'm staying in the house like you said. Right now, I'm staring out the window and wasting away from boredom."
"Well, when you're done with that, you can clean Satchmo's food bowl."
"Yes, sir."
"That's what I like to hear."
Neal hung up with a sigh. He got up and attended to Satchmo's food and water bowls. Satchmo watched while Neal washed and refilled them.
"There you go," Neal said. "You'd probably rather have a walk about now, but we're in lockdown."
Satchmo whined and nibbled at the food.
It wasn't like Neal couldn't handle an afternoon at home. Usually, he cherished them, grateful for the peace and quiet. But he liked it to be on his terms, and being confined to the house was starting to do a number on him.
Wandering back into the living room, he stopped in front of the bookshelf. He was trying to decide which of El's art books to look at when something caught his eye.
It was one of Peter's slave training books. A disturbing number of post-it notes stuck out of the top. Peter had really been studying.
Neal pulled out the book and flopped down on the sofa. The book was called Owning and Training the New Slave. He opened it to the first chapter and started to read.
Many people are wary of purchasing and training newly-sentenced slaves. It's true that an inexperienced slave can require significant training, and the period of time between sentencing and auction offers little insight into the slave's skills and personality that could help you make an educated purchase. However, the effort you put into training your new slave can more than pay off in the long run. Buying a new slave means you can bond with it and train it to your desire, without competing with previous masters and their training.
Neal raised an eyebrow and flipped to a page that Peter had bookmarked. To his displeasure, he saw that it was in the middle of a chapter about sex.
Regular, gentle training will help your slave become accustomed to your desires. Be prepared to take things slow. Though your focus may or may not be on your slave's pleasure, it's good to make sex a mutually agreeable experience. Try not to make sex a source of conflict. If your slave is content, it will give you little trouble."
Was that was Peter thought was going to happen? That Neal would cooperate if the training was "gentle"? He gave Peter some credit for wanting his cooperation, but he wasn't fooled, either. Peter just wanted to make things easier for himself. At least Peter hadn't touched him since Thursday.
Neal turned to another bookmarked page. This one was in a chapter titled "Disciplining Your Slave."
Some disobedience is common. New slaves often make innocent mistakes, such as forgetting rules about speech or furniture restrictions. With proper reinforcement, your slave will eventually learn the rules. It's also normal for new slaves to intentionally act out. This can be a way of expressing frustration, or a desperate attempt to resist authority. It's important that you deal immediately with undesirable behavior, and this chapter will outline different ways to discipline your slave effectively. But don't be too quick to worry that your slave's actions are a sign of serious behavioral issues. By six to eight months, most slaves adjust to their new lives and masters. But it's important that you provide clear boundaries and fair and consistent discipline.
Neal closed the book with a frown. He didn't think about it often, but he knew Peter had never owned a slave before. Neal wished he'd paid more attention to slavery in the past. Maybe then he'd know more about the type of advice masters got. He could understand Peter's motivations and anticipate his moves.
Elizabeth was more confident with slaves. Neal was a bit ashamed to admit it, but he had a hard time disobeying her. He told himself it was because she was kind to him, but it was also that she knew how to wield authority without making it so obtrusive.
Peter was too used to throwing his weight around as an FBI agent. And unfortunately, he seemed to take the advice about "consistent discipline" to heart. Though from Neal's perspective, it was hardly "fair."
He tried to stay on Peter's good side after the paddling. But the truth was, they were both on edge. Peter may not have been mad, but his patience was thin. And Neal wouldn't forget the disappointment of the failed meeting with Kate anytime soon.
A couple days later, Neal made the mistake of snapping at Peter when he asked why the refrigerator hadn't been cleaned out yet.
"I'll do it now," Neal said.
"That's fine, but I want to know why you didn't do it yesterday when I told you to."
"Because I have more important things to worry about than your trash."
Peter put his hands on his hips. "Watch it. I don't like your tone."
Neal knew he was going too far. Peter didn't mind the occasional smart comment. He even seemed to find Neal's attitude endearing. But outright backtalk was a different matter.
But he couldn't help it.
"I'm sorry," he said sharply, "I guess you'd like me to be more subservient?"
"I'd like you to show me a little more respect."
"Like you showed me when you took away a letter that was meant for me?"
"We're not dealing with that letter right now, so you can just put that on hold. And I'm over what happened. I suggest you move on, too."
How could he when Kate's letter was hanging over his head, just out of reach?
Peter continued. "Your attitude has been getting worse since Thursday. I can't say I blame you, but it's gone on long enough. And now you're letting your chores fall by the wayside. I don't want to have to discipline you again, but I will."
Neal thought of the paddle. The memory was almost enough to make him back down. Almost.
"Fine. I'm your slave-do whatever you want."
Peter's eyes narrowed. "Okay. If that's how you want it."
With that, he turned and left the room. Neal swallowed and wondered if he should follow. He was sure that Peter was going to get the paddle, and he cursed himself for pushing things so far. He was better than this. He was a good conman. He knew how to handle people.
He opened the refrigerator and slowly started to throw out old take-out boxes and expired bottles of salad dressing. If Peter came back to find him busy, it might help.
Peter returned a few minutes later. He didn't have the paddle, but what he was carrying didn't look much better.
"Peter? I-is that a gag?"
"Yep. Open up."
It was a black ball gag with a leather strap. Neal was too shocked at first to move, but when Peter brought the ball up to his mouth, he stepped back and bumped into the counter.
"This is ridiculous."
"It's appropriate. Now open up."
Neal tried to speak, but Peter stuck the ball in his mouth. He buckled the strap around Neal's head and walked over to the timer on the refrigerator. He set it for fifteen minutes.
If Neal could speak, he'd say that a gag was demeaning and unnecessary. But maybe that was the point, to embarrass him. It felt strange, too. He fought to keep the saliva from building up in his mouth.
After a few minutes, Peter's cellphone vibrated. Answering it, he got up and walked out of the room.
Once Peter was out of sight, Neal reached behind his head and unbuckled the strap. He extracted the ball from his mouth and flexed his jaw.
He had a few minutes of respite before he heard Peter's footsteps returning. He hurried to replace the gag, but he must have misgauged how far away Peter was. He was still fiddling with the buckle when Peter came back into the room and froze.
Realizing he was caught, Neal took out the gag and lowered his hands. "I just took it out for a second," he said. "My jaw was getting sore."
"Oh, so you're saying you prefer a sore ass?"
Neal swallowed. "I didn't say that...."
"I can't turn my back for five minutes...." Peter grumbled.
Neal cocked his head. "C'mon, Peter. You didn't even cuff me. If you're going to gag someone, you have to restrain their hands."
"I'll remember that."
Peter walked over and yanked the gag from Neal's hands. Neal stood still while Peter put it back on him. Peter re-set the timer for fifteen minutes, starting again from the beginning.
While he waited it out, Neal sat at the dining room table with Peter. He crossed his arms and kept his eyes downcast.
When the timer finally went off, Peter got up and stopped it without a word. He unbuckled the gag and then walked around to face Neal. He hooked his finger through the buckle and dangled the gag.
"What was the lesson here?" Peter asked.
Neal avoided Peter's eyes. He didn't intend to answer, but it was clear Peter was waiting for him to respond. "Watch what I say."
"Right." Peter reached out with his free hand and patted Neal's shoulder. "It's not that I don't get it. I know things have been stressful for you lately. But that doesn't mean you can be disrespectful and shirk your duties. My being too soft on you is what caused the problem in the first place." He paused and added, "But if you want to actually talk, you know, about Kate or whatever, we can. You know that, right?"
"Yeah," Neal said softly. But he wouldn't. He had to keep some parts of his life to himself. His thoughts and his past were all he had that were his own.
* * *
Deep down, Neal knew he had a tough time being rational when Kate was involved. If he hadn't been desperate to win her back, he wouldn't have been arrested in the first place. And if he hadn't been so bitterly disappointed over the failed meeting and confiscated letter, he might have been able to think more strategically.
Eventually, he started to regain some of his optimism. He had to look at things practically: He wanted his privileges back, and he wanted Kate's letter. In order to get both of those things, he needed to suck up to Peter and Elizabeth.
He decided to start with food. It was hard not to win people over with good cooking. It wasn't difficult to convince Elizabeth to let him splurge on ingredients, and one afternoon, Neal spent all day chopping vegetables and grinding fresh herbs. When Elizabeth came home, he insisted that she relax and let him finish the preparation on his own.
Dinner was a risky venture, because Neal never knew when Peter would have to work late. And re-heated salmon wouldn't be nearly as impressive. But Peter came home just as Neal was finishing.
Elizabeth kissed Peter on the cheek and said, "Honey, Neal's making salmon for us tonight. He's been cooking since before I got home."
Peter looked over Elizabeth's shoulder at Neal, who was at the stove with his sleeves rolled up. "Oh yeah? Smell's good. Any special occasion I don't know about?"
"No occasion, I was just in the mood to cook and figured you guys would like a nice dinner."
Peter raised his eyebrows and looked a little suspicious. Neal did like to cook, but he didn't always make this much effort.
He thought his rolled-up sleeves and the hair falling into his face helped create the appearance of hard work.
Peter walked over to the stove and sniffed at the vegetables that were cooking on the stove.
"Is that squash?" he asked, skeptically.
Neal gently swatted him away. "You'll like it. Trust me."
"Hm."
Neal was certain Peter would like it. But at least good cooking was something he could enjoy, regardless.
It was still good to see Peter and Elizabeth enjoy their meals. Especially Peter. Neal wasn't sure if Peter was the sort to give an A for effort, so if Neal wanted to impress him, he had to pull it off.
"You know," Peter said with a smile, "you've raised the bar for yourself, here."
Neal shrugged. "You knew I could cook. If you give me the ingredients, I can make meals like this more often."
Neal didn't speak much over dinner. Peter dominated the conversation, telling Elizabeth about a case at work. Neal listened without showing too much interest.
But later, when Neal was clearing the table, Peter said, "Hey, it's a nice evening and I was going to take Satchmo out. You wanna join us? Dishes can wait."
Neal looked up. "Yeah, sure."
He could feel his heart beat faster, but he kept a casual smile on his face. He'd been under virtual house arrest since he snuck out.
Even going out with Peter was an improvement.
His happiness soured when he stepped into the living room to find Peter pulling his leash off the hook on the wall.
He wanted to question the point of it. Peter couldn't actually think he'd try to run. And if Neal wanted to run, he didn't think he'd have a hard time catching Peter off-guard and wrenching the leash from his grasp. No, it was just one of Peter's stupid attempts to prove who was in charge.
But Neal bit his tongue and let Peter clip it to his collar. He reminded himself of the necessity to take small steps like this.
At least it was dark out.
When he got outside, he was glad he conceded. It was a crisp, clear night, and Neal breathed deeply to fill his lungs with fresh air. He hadn't been out much after dark, and the neighborhood looked different. He automatically studied his surroundings, a part of his brain telling him that it was important. Logically, he knew he had no plans to run. But his instinct was to be prepared.
"That was a nice dinner tonight," Peter said.
"Like I said, I enjoy cooking."
Satchmo slowed to sniff at a lamppost, and Peter and Neal paused to let him satisfy his curiosity.
"I'm glad," Peter said. "It's good for you to have some productive, meaningful pursuits."
Neal couldn't help but smirk. "Is that something you read in one of your slave books?"
Peter returned the smile. "Yeah, maybe." He shook his head. "I don't know what some of that stuff even means. I understand criminals. But this slave business is a whole other ball game."
Neal scoffed. "Oh, you're telling me?"
"Yeah, I know it's an adjustment. That's why I have to be the bad guy sometimes and enforce the rules. Like it or not, you're going to have to learn to be a good slave."
Neal bowed his head and nodded. "No, I understand that now. I do."
Looking at Peter out of the corner of his eye, he saw another brief flash of skepticism like he'd seen earlier that evening. He wondered if he'd pushed it too far tonight. Peter wasn't stupid.
But Peter clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze.
"C'mon," he said. "It's getting cold. Let's head back."
* * *
For the next couple weeks, Neal did his best to be a good slave.
He spent whole afternoons cleaning up without being told to. He organized the junk drawer in the kitchen. (It was always interesting to go through the things that people discarded or forgot. And Peter and El would never notice that he took some paperclips, string, and extra pencils for his own use.)
He didn't complain about being led around on the leash. He rubbed Peter's feet and shoulders when he came home exhausted.
But after two weeks of cleaning and obeying with a smile on his face, Neal didn't have anything to show for it except a loss of dignity. He still didn't have Kate's letter.
He tried not to be hasty. He knew the value of a long con. But suddenly he wasn't convinced that this con would pay off. He also knew the risks of trying to pull a con on someone who could see through him. For all he knew, Peter was aware of what he was doing and had chosen to reap the benefits of it indefinitely.
And then there was another tactic that Neal would barely consider.
Peter still hadn't touched him. He hadn't demanded any form of sexual service in weeks. At first, Neal had attributed it to Peter being unhappy with him, but now he wasn't sure. Maybe the novelty had simply worn off. Maybe Peter had realized he had finite stamina, and preferred to exhaust it with his wife.
Peter's attraction to him was something Neal didn't want to mess with. But maybe a few small reminders would help stir Peter's sympathy and give Neal a card to play with.
One evening, he came downstairs while Peter and Elizabeth were watching TV. Peter did a double take, narrowed his eyes, and said, "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
"I'm going to get in the shower," Neal said casually.
As he walked into the kitchen, he let his pajama bottoms hang low on his hips. He got a drink of water to justify coming downstairs, and then walked back through the living room. He took his time, giving Peter the chance to get a look. He didn't look at Peter, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Peter watching him.
While he was running the water for his shower, he started to feel disgusted with himself. He shivered, suddenly aware of how cool the house was getting now that it was nearly November.
He never would have considered himself desperate, but now he wondered if that was all this was: desperation.
Except, "this" was just another part of the con. Was pandering to Peter's sexual interest any worse than fooling Peter into thinking he could be a good slave?
Stepping into the shower, he rested his forehead against the cool tile for a minute while the water ran down his back.
Then he put the matter out of his mind.
* * *
The following Saturday, Elizabeth was doing a wedding and Neal and Peter had the house to themselves.
Ever since breakfast, Neal had caught Peter looking at him when he thought Neal wouldn't see. It made the hairs rise on the back of Neal's neck.
For the past couple hours, Peter had been looking over a file from work. He had everything spread out on the coffee table. Neal had decided he didn't feel like spending the afternoon alone, so he was sitting by Peter's legs, idly sketching on a pad of yellow lined paper.
Then he felt Peter's hand in his hair. He tensed.
"Your hair's getting long," Peter said.
Neal scoffed quietly. He was just noticing this now?
"That's what happens when I can't get it cut for a few months."
Peter murmured and tugged on a lock of his hair. "We'll have to do something about it. I have some clippers. Maybe we could take a little off...."
Neal whipped his head around. "You're not seriously suggesting you cut my hair."
Peter shrugged innocently. "Just trim it a little."
"No, Peter, you can't. That's cruel and unusual, and you know it."
Peter rolled his eyes. "You're just being dramatic."
"Yeah, well, some things should be left to professionals. Think about it-how would you feel if your barber bought a gun and decided to investigate art thefts in his spare time?"
"All right, all right," Peter said. He grumbled under his breath, and then sighed. "El likes your hair, anyway. She probably wouldn't want me messing with it."
"Good. She's smart."
Peter playfully cuffed him on the back of the head. Then he leaned forward and started straightening up the file he'd been looking through.
"Enough work for now. I was thinking you and I could have some fun today," Peter said.
Neal knew it. He'd known it since Peter first eyed him over breakfast. He'd had a sense of foreboding all day.
"Fun...." he said.
"Yes, fun. C'mon, let's take a shower."
"Together?"
"Together."
Neal pushed himself to his feet. "You never struck me as the type to want your slave to bathe you."
Then again, he didn't believe that bathing was what Peter actually had in mind.
Neal had never showered with Elizabeth. He'd massaged her shoulders once while she soaked in the bath, and that was all right. If Peter had wanted something like that, Neal could handle it.
But once they were in the shower, it took him less than a minute to decide it wasn't working out. There was no room to move-Peter had him pinned in, trapped under the showerhead. When Neal tried to step around, Peter took his movement as an invitation to put his hands on his hips and pull him close. He planted a kiss on Neal's lips.
Peter's groin was pressed against Neal's. Neal tried to pull away, but Peter still had him locked in a kiss and his grip on Neal's hips was surprisingly strong.
Peter had never been this physical with him before, and Neal was unprepared for it. Even when he'd suggested the shower, Neal somehow hadn't realized that it would mean this much contact. The feeling was so foreign that for a minute, Neal didn't fight it. He let Peter push his tongue past his lips.
Then reality hit him. He realized Peter was going to pull him across a line he didn't want to cross. He broke off the kiss and turned his face away from the water. Water still trickled down to his nose and mouth, and he coughed.
"I feel like I'm downing, here," he said. "Could you...."
"Oh, right."
Peter let go of his hips and gave him space to move. The spell was broken, and Neal took a deep breath, relishing the small but comfortable distance between them.
Peter grabbed the bar of soap and started to wash himself. He soaped up a spare washcloth and handed it to Neal, and Neal realized they actually were going to bathe. But Peter wasn't content to let him handle it on his own. He soaped up his hands and ran them over Neal's chest and abs. Finally, he stroked Neal's cock and fondled his balls with a soapy palm.
Before Neal could object, Peter turned him around so that he was facing the wall of the shower. Peter's fingers found their way into the crack of his ass, and Neal made an undignified noise of protest. Peter ignored him. Using one of the washcloths, he rubbed Neal's hole. He wasn't rough, but the quick efficiency of his actions made Neal squirm.
"You're not very good at this sexy shower thing," he said.
"I didn't ask for a critique."
When they were finished, Neal rinsed off and got out as quickly as he could. They both wrapped towels around their waists, and Neal tried to escape upstairs for a clean pair of boxers. But Peter grabbed him by the arm and steered him into the master bedroom.
"Have a seat," Peter said, pointing to the bed.
Neal flopped down. He'd toweled off his hair, but it was still wet. Drops of water ran down the back of neck.
While Neal air-dried on the bed, Peter walked over to the dresser. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a lacquered wooden box. "You know, I didn't just buy a paddle and gag at the slave store. I got you some fun things, too." He set the box on the bed. "Go on, take a look."
There was nothing Peter could buy from a slave supply store that he would find "fun." Peter knew that, too, which meant he was really trying to sell Neal on whatever was in that box. It didn’t bode well.
Neal lifted the lid and peered at the contents. "They’re butt plugs."
"They’re training plugs."
"What’s the difference?"
"No difference. They're called training plugs when they're meant for training slaves who aren’t used to penetration." He carefully enunciated penetration, making each syllable like a drumbeat on Neal's nerves.
There were six black, silicone plugs. The smallest looked harmless enough. The largest made Neal's ass tighten just from looking at it. How much "training" did Peter intend to give him?
Even worse was the idea of what Peter was training him for. It wasn't hard to guess. First it was going to be the plugs, and then it'd be Peter's dick.
"The idea," Peter said, "is to get you used to it."
"How do you know I'm not used to it?"
Peter raised his eyebrows. "You've had anal sex?"
"Not exactly. But c'mon, Peter, I'm not inexperienced. I've tried stuff before."
He may have been overstating it. He'd let a woman try fingering him once, but that was a long time ago, before Kate, and he didn't remember much about it except that it was okay.
His fresher memories were of the processing center. There hadn't been any sexual training, but he remembered his intake exam all too well.
He wondered if he'd made a mistake in implying he had experience. But he didn't like Peter treating him like some sort of blushing virgin.
Peter's hand hovered over the box with the plugs. After a moment of thought, he selected one of smaller ones. It wasn't the smallest, however, and it didn't look small enough. The haze from the strangeness of the shower wore off, and Neal was starting to get nervous.
Before he could object, Peter reached over to Neal's lap and tried to undo his towel. Neal jerked away.
"Maybe we should start with a small plug."
Peter looked down at the plug in his hand. "This is small. If I used the smallest one, you wouldn't even feel it." Peter sighed, exasperated. "You just said you have experience with this."
"Yeah, with fingers. Not...objects."
Peter sighed again. "You know, you've been so good lately, I was hoping you'd given up on being difficult."
Yeah, well, Neal had hoped that Peter's "fun" would be limited to the shower today, but clearly he was mistaken.
Peter continued. "Now, I'm sorry if you're not into this sort of stuff. I really am. But you're not calling the shots here. And I think if you give it a chance, you'll really like it."
"I doubt that."
Peter looked at the plug again. "You think the plug is too big? Is that the problem? Are you nervous?"
Neal scoffed. "I'm not nervous. It's just...last time, it was uncomfortable."
"What last time? What were you doing?"
"At the processing center. When they were examining me."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "Did they do something to hurt you?"
Neal shook his head quickly. "No. Nothing like that. I'm just saying, it's not fun to get examined assembly-line style by an overworked doctor with a speculum."
"Ah, right. Well, this is different. I'll take my time, use plenty of lube, and if it's really uncomfortable, you can tell me. That sound good to you?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Peter rubbed his arm soothingly. Slowly, he brought his hands down to Neal's lap and undid his towel.
"It won't hurt," Peter said. "Now c'mon, lie on your stomach."
Neal slowly moved into position. Peter, impatient by now, scooped him up and deposited him on his stomach.
"You're strong...."
As if to prove the point, he lifted Neal's hips and slid the towel underneath his groin. Neal found it amusing that Peter was concerned about him coming on the bed.
He watched while Peter got a box of wipes and a bottle of lube out of the nightstand. He started with his fingers. He coated his middle and index fingers with lube and pried Neal's cheeks apart with his clean hand.
The lube was cold. Neal had to fight not to jump when he felt Peter's finger pressing against his hole.
If he thought the shower was undignified, getting fingered by Peter was much worse. He buried his face in the pillow when Peter's index finger slid inside him.
"Oh, yeah," Peter said with a breathy chuckle. "You're too tense, though. Loosen up. The plug won't hurt if you're relaxed."
Easier said than done. Neal was used to relaxing under pressure, but it was different with Peter, somehow. Peter always knew how to get to him.
Peter worked his finger in and out of Neal's hole, and then added the second one. It was a tighter fit, but it didn't hurt. Then Peter slowed his movements, and pressed down.
"Pretty sure that's your prostate. You feel that?"
Neal shifted on the bed. "Not much."
He did feel it, though. A little. It didn't hurt and it wasn't uncomfortable, but he wasn't sure if it felt good. He didn't want Peter to do anything that felt good.
He was satisfied when Peter gave a disappointed murmur.
"Why do you care if I feel it?" Neal asked. "Why are we doing this? If you want to screw me, no one's stopping you."
Peter kept fucking him with his fingers. "Because I figure you should get something out of it. And I like doing this. It's so much better than just fucking you." He squeezed Neal's ass with his free hand. "You're always trying to stay in control," he said, his voice low. "You need to learn who owns you, and embrace it. I want you to come with my cock up your ass."
The bluntness surprised him. Neal wondered how often he thought about that while jerking off. He wondered if Peter had thought about this before he arrested him, or if it only came later.
Peter pulled his fingers out. He used a wipe to clean the lube off of them, and then reached for the plug. He coated it with lube and positioned the silicone tip at the entrance to Neal's ass.
He pushed it in slowly. It stretched him more than Peter's fingers had, but it didn't hurt. Peter drew it and out. The plug had a soft rippled texture, and to Neal's shame, he found that the back and forth motion felt almost...good.
"See?" Peter said. "It's the perfect size. You didn't have anything to be nervous about."
He pushed the plug in further, until it was fully-seated and Neal's hole closed around the tapered base. Then Peter sat back.
"I think we'll leave that in for a bit. You can move if you want."
Neal didn't know if he should. The plug didn't hurt, but he felt full, and there was some odd but not unpleasant pressure. He moved slowly and experimentally, and froze when he felt the plug rub against his prostate.
Sitting up, he got his first good look at Peter since he'd made him lie on his stomach. Peter's dick was half hard and peeking out from the folds of the towel still around his waist.
Peter's breathing was accelerated, and he had an aroused flush to his cheeks. He fumbled with his towel and dropped it to the bed.
"Think I need that nice mouth of yours now," Peter said.
Neal braced himself for Peter to pull him over for a blowjob. But Peter didn't.
Instead, he said, "You know what rimming is?"
Neal blinked. "What?"
"You're a worldly guy. I'm sure you're familiar with rimming."
"I'm familiar with it. I was just hoping you're speaking in non sequiturs...."
Peter chuckled. "No, I mean I want your tongue on my ass while I jerk off. Why don't you kneel on the floor? Probably be easiest."
Neal just glared at him.
Neal considered himself open-minded when it came to sex. Under different circumstances, with someone else, he had no idea how he'd feel about trying this. But he knew he had no intention of putting his mouth anywhere near Peter's ass. There had to be some limits.
With a sigh, Peter took him by the arm and pulled him off the bed. He pushed Neal to his knees by the bedside, and then turned so that his back was facing Neal. He lifted one knee up on the bed and spread his legs. With one hand, he spread his buttocks. With the other, he started jerking his cock.
Neal looked at Peter's asshole with disgust. He couldn't shake the thought that this was some sort of punishment. Or perhaps Peter was trying to make a point about blowjobs not being so bad.
"You can't really expect me to do this."
"Clearly, I do. C'mon, Neal, it won't hurt you. And we just showered."
Neal didn't budge.
"Neal," Peter said after a moment, a warning edge creeping into his voice, "I'm getting impatient."
"Tough!" Neal snapped. "I'm not doing it. So what are you going to do? Paddle me?"
Peter stopped stroking his cock. "I don’t know. Maybe I should, if it'll help you learn your responsibilities."
"Fine. I don't care."
He wasn't scared of being paddled. He knew Peter wouldn't injure him, so it was just a matter of resilience. Eventually, Peter would have to give up.
Peter turned around. He stared down at Neal with his hands on his hips. It was hard to feel threatened by him when he was naked. Of course, Neal was naked, too.
Neal stared back at him, willing him to break first. Finally, Peter did.
Peter sighed and shook his head. He sat down on the bed.
"Look, I don't want to be the bad guy, here. But you have certain duties. And I was looking forward to having a good time with you." He reached over and stroked Neal's cheek. "I'm not going to paddle you. I don't-I don't want to force you. I know if you want to keep being stubborn, there's only so much I can do to make you cooperate."
Neal's lips twitched. Maybe he'd get out of this, after all.
"But," Peter said with a small, calculating smile, "if you don't cooperate, I'm not going to give you a reward."
Neal's gaze shot up to Peter's eyes.
Peter chuckled. "That's what you want, isn't it? I'm not stupid-I know you've been behaving these last few weeks because you want something."
Neal weighed his options. He could be strong, and keep refusing Peter. He'd send a message. On the other hand, he imagined all his hard work going to waste. He realized now that he'd been stupid to think that Peter would give him what he wanted without making some ridiculous demands in the process. Peter could hold this over his head indefinitely. He could refuse to give him anything he wanted until he agreed to do this. Peter couldn't lose.
"Kate's letter," Neal blurted out. "If you give me her letter, I'll do it."
Peter frowned. He looked uncomfortable, and Neal couldn't figure out why.
"No. I'm sorry, but that's not on the table."
"Why?"
"I'm not discussing it right now."
"Then forget it," Neal spat.
Peter ignored his anger. "Choose something else, and we might have a deal. I was thinking of an outing next weekend."
Neal looked away and pretended not to consider it.
"Maybe a visit to a museum," Peter said, tempting him.
"Do I get to choose the museum?"
It would be just like Peter to take him to some sports museum.
"Within reason. You seemed pretty interested in that Picasso exhibit. I saw you looking at the article about it in the paper."
Neal was interested, but he hadn't thought there was any chance of the Burkes letting him go. For someone who investigated art thefts, Peter had little appreciation for the arts. And he'd considered asking Elizabeth, but she'd been busy lately, and he didn't want to abuse her kindness.
Still, he didn't want to degrade himself. He almost wished Peter would paddle him, or try to force him. It'd make the decision easier somehow.
Then again, Neal had never been able to find dignity in deprivation. He wasn't Mozzie, who was willing to live in sparse safe houses and storage lockers in order to stick to some ideal.
If it meant he could get something of his old life back, did it matter what happened in the privacy of the bedroom?
"The Picasso exhibit ends after next weekend," Neal said. "What happens if you have to work and we can't go?"
"We'll go."
Neal shot him a skeptical look.
"Worse comes to worst, we'll do something else. But I promise you'll get your reward."
Neal nodded. "All right," he said quietly. "I'll do it."
Peter smiled and patted Neal on the shoulder. "Good. I knew we could come to an understanding."
He stood and resumed his previous position. Neal inched forward on his knees and decided not to draw things out any more. Leaning forward, he stuck out his tongue and tentatively touched it to Peter's hole. Peter took a sharp breath and jerked, and Neal sat back on his heels.
His heart was pounding. Leaning forward, he gave it another try. He wasn't sure what he was expecting it to be like. It wasn't all that different from any other type of oral sex. Except, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to do. He couldn't rely on previous experience to guess what Peter wanted.
He tried kissing and licking Peter's cheeks, and then licked around his hole. Peter's muscles twitched. Dipping his tongue down further, Neal discovered that Peter liked having his perineum licked.
"Oh, yeah," Peter said with a moan. "That's good. Keep doing that."
Peter was jerking his cock, and his movements grew faster. His hips rocked back and forth. Neal wanted him to finish quickly, wanted to finish this "job" and get the plug out of his ass, so he redoubled his efforts. He kissed and licked and blew warm breath against Peter's skin. He pressed his lips against Peter's ass.
Peter's muscles tightened, and he grunted. He was coming. Neal sat back on his heels and waited for him to compose himself.
Peter grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and wiped the head of his cock. His face was flushed. Looking down at Neal, he said, "Good job. I knew you could do it."
"If I don’t get my reward...."
"Don't worry. I keep my promises." He tossed the tissue in the wastebasket. Then he lifted a bare foot and gently nudged Neal's soft dick. "You don't want to get off?"
"I'm fine."
"Hm. All right. Let's get the plug out."
Neal readily stood up and leaned over the bed. Peter eased the plug out and, after telling Neal to wait there, took it to the bathroom to clean it.
When he came back, he put the plug back in the box with the others. Then he handed the box to Neal, along with the bottle of lube.
"Here. I want you to hang onto these."
"What for?"
"What do you think? So you can use them. I thought you might want to play around with them on your own."
Neal handed them back to Peter. "I don't want them."
"Well, you're taking them." He thrust them back into Neal's hands. "You don't have to use them if you don't want to. But you might want to get some practice in. And they'd better not go missing. These were expensive."
"Fine. I'll stick them in the closet or something."
Peter smiled. "That's my boy."
At least Neal had an excuse to leave. He went upstairs and put the plugs and lube at the very back of the shelf in the closet. With any luck, maybe Peter would forget about them.
Chapter 8
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