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the_water_clockAuthor: Clio
Title: To Match Her Eyes
Pairing: Peter/Elizabeth/Neal
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Neal has been in this particular position before, and after his deal with Peter expected to be there again. But he hadn't expected Elizabeth to be the one putting him there.
Length: 1200 words
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Jeff Eastin and owned by one of the large media companies in a complicated arrangement to which I am not a signatory. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Written in response to a prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
collarkink; my first kink meme response as well as my first White Collar fic.
Let's not get into how this started. It's a long story, and a good one, but it's not this one.
Now, Neal was hardly a stranger to the particular position he currently found himself in, and after he'd become Peter's boy he'd figured he'd be, well, Peter's boy eventually. And then he met Elizabeth, and realized that all of his ideas about who Peter was off the job had been entirely incorrect.
Because it was Elizabeth who had him bent over his table. At least, at the moment.
"You want some help with that?" Peter was asking. He sat in a chair in front of Neal in a soft cashmere robe—Byron had been a robe guy, there were like 18 of the things in the closet—but the robe was open in the front and Peter's legs were spread open, all but forcing Neal to stare at his cock. Not that Neal particularly minded; he just liked to maintain the illusion of personal choice.
"You want to help," she replied, and Neal could hear the smile in her voice. She was standing behind him, one hand draped casually over his lower back.
Peter chuckled, the muscles in his stomach contracting. "You got me." He set down his beer on the table—not on the placemat, thanks, so Neal had to reach over and move it—and stood up to join his wife behind Neal. Peter's hands caressed his behind, then spread him further open. In response Neal widened his stance and arched up into Peter's touch.
"I think he knows what you're going to do," Elizabeth said.
"He's a bright boy," Peter replied. "He probably figured it out in the shower."
Neal thought back to the shower the three of them had taken after the first round. He'd thought at the time that the whole "thorough cleaning" bit, while far from unpleasant, was for Elizabeth's benefit as she'd be fucking him next and girls could be a little more squeamish. But he suddenly realized that Peter was up to something very different. Neal could hear Peter getting down on his knees, wished he could see him do it because Peter had this amazingly elegant way, nothing submissive about it, deliberate and spare like all his movements. But turning your head when you were bent over a table was awkward, so he decided to just close his eyes and do this all from touch and sound.
Neal heard Peter pick something up from the table, then the unmistakeable sound of lube squirting out of its tube. One finger became two, the usual scissoring, deeper into him. Neal grabbed the edge of the table, trying to relax more, and then Peter found what he was looking for. "Ung," Neal said, though it was more of a moan.
"Ah," Peter said, "that's it."
Neal felt Elizabeth's fingers then, smaller and slimmer, sliding across his sweet spot and he tightened his grip on the table. She pulled her fingers out, and after a moment Neal felt warm wetness against his hole. He concentrated on not jumping, and trying not to push back into Peter's tongue.
"Eager," Elizabeth said, so he must have failed on that last one. "It's okay, Neal," she said, rubbing his lower back. "He likes it."
Neal widened his stance again. Peter was pushing his tongue into Neal, wriggling it around, and Neal remembered watching Peter go down on Elizabeth earlier that afternoon. Neal had been sitting behind her, playing with her tits from behind, the perfect way to not only watch what Peter was doing but also feel its effect on her as she shuddered in his arms. He'd whispered little dirty thoughts in her ear, mostly about how beautiful she looked, how sexy, and apparently she'd decided to return the favor.
"Look at you," she said. "I bet those legs couldn't hold you up right now, could they?" She was still stroking his skin, slowly. "Do you want us to make you come now, this way?" she asked. "Sometimes it's easier."
Neal nodded his agreement, but not for that reason. It was the care, the tenderness—it made him twitch and ache. He needed to come, needed the explosion, needed Elizabeth to fuck him selfishly and ruthlessly. Peter was grazing his puckered skin with his teeth, and now he wrapped slick fingers around Neal's cock. It wouldn't take much—didn't take much—and Neal was jolted by it, crying out as he came.
Peter gave him a last kiss, then rose to his feet. "He's all yours, honey."
Neal heard them kiss and was surprised again by Elizabeth. Maybe she'd do it herself at some point, had done it to Peter. Maybe Neal should do it to her.
"Thanks, honey," she replied. Her hand was still at the small of his back but now it was holding him still as she lined up and slowly entered him. He felt the sweet burning and stretching as his ass accommodated her—well, not really her, but sort of—and she began to move.
Peter was back in the chair now, beer in hand as though he were watching the Giants and not his wife fucking his con man partner with a large blue dildo. ("To match her eyes," Peter had explained the first time Elizabeth showed it to Neal. "The realistic ones look too weird." Neal couldn't really argue with that.) "C'mon, Elle, put your back into it," he said. "If I can take it so can he."
Neal pushed back into her, encouraging her, and she responded in kind, shaking the table with the force of her thrusts. Finally, finally he was getting what he'd wanted all along, or at least since they'd arrived at his apartment, toys in hand. He could certainly think of worse ways to spend a winter Saturday. Peter watched, smiling a little like he was enjoying the show. Which, really, why wouldn't he?
Elizabeth's strap-on had a tickler at the other end, so the thrusting was working for her too, rubbing her cock against her clit. Neal felt her rhythm faltering, then her grip on his waist tightening as she moaned deeply and then collapsed on top of him.
"Wow," Neal said.
"Will that work for you, Neal?" Peter asked.
"Yeah," Neal replied. "Yeah, that'll work."
Elizabeth rolled her head so she was pillowed on his shoulder, and he turned to look at her, feeling that bone-deep contentment that often followed a good fuck. "We're gonna have to take care of Peter now," he whispered.
"True," she said. "What do you suggest?"
"Hmm," he said, pretending to think. "He's used his tongue on both of us today," he said. "Why don't we return the favor? It's big enough to share."
Elizabeth smiled, slow and sexy. "Sounds like a plan," she said.
"Hey," Peter said. "What are you two whispering about?"
They giggled. "You'll find out soon enough," Elizabeth replied, then leaned in to give Neal a kiss.
Title: To Match Her Eyes
Pairing: Peter/Elizabeth/Neal
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Neal has been in this particular position before, and after his deal with Peter expected to be there again. But he hadn't expected Elizabeth to be the one putting him there.
Length: 1200 words
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Jeff Eastin and owned by one of the large media companies in a complicated arrangement to which I am not a signatory. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Written in response to a prompt at
collarkink; my first kink meme response as well as my first White Collar fic.Let's not get into how this started. It's a long story, and a good one, but it's not this one.
Now, Neal was hardly a stranger to the particular position he currently found himself in, and after he'd become Peter's boy he'd figured he'd be, well, Peter's boy eventually. And then he met Elizabeth, and realized that all of his ideas about who Peter was off the job had been entirely incorrect.
Because it was Elizabeth who had him bent over his table. At least, at the moment.
"You want some help with that?" Peter was asking. He sat in a chair in front of Neal in a soft cashmere robe—Byron had been a robe guy, there were like 18 of the things in the closet—but the robe was open in the front and Peter's legs were spread open, all but forcing Neal to stare at his cock. Not that Neal particularly minded; he just liked to maintain the illusion of personal choice.
"You want to help," she replied, and Neal could hear the smile in her voice. She was standing behind him, one hand draped casually over his lower back.
Peter chuckled, the muscles in his stomach contracting. "You got me." He set down his beer on the table—not on the placemat, thanks, so Neal had to reach over and move it—and stood up to join his wife behind Neal. Peter's hands caressed his behind, then spread him further open. In response Neal widened his stance and arched up into Peter's touch.
"I think he knows what you're going to do," Elizabeth said.
"He's a bright boy," Peter replied. "He probably figured it out in the shower."
Neal thought back to the shower the three of them had taken after the first round. He'd thought at the time that the whole "thorough cleaning" bit, while far from unpleasant, was for Elizabeth's benefit as she'd be fucking him next and girls could be a little more squeamish. But he suddenly realized that Peter was up to something very different. Neal could hear Peter getting down on his knees, wished he could see him do it because Peter had this amazingly elegant way, nothing submissive about it, deliberate and spare like all his movements. But turning your head when you were bent over a table was awkward, so he decided to just close his eyes and do this all from touch and sound.
Neal heard Peter pick something up from the table, then the unmistakeable sound of lube squirting out of its tube. One finger became two, the usual scissoring, deeper into him. Neal grabbed the edge of the table, trying to relax more, and then Peter found what he was looking for. "Ung," Neal said, though it was more of a moan.
"Ah," Peter said, "that's it."
Neal felt Elizabeth's fingers then, smaller and slimmer, sliding across his sweet spot and he tightened his grip on the table. She pulled her fingers out, and after a moment Neal felt warm wetness against his hole. He concentrated on not jumping, and trying not to push back into Peter's tongue.
"Eager," Elizabeth said, so he must have failed on that last one. "It's okay, Neal," she said, rubbing his lower back. "He likes it."
Neal widened his stance again. Peter was pushing his tongue into Neal, wriggling it around, and Neal remembered watching Peter go down on Elizabeth earlier that afternoon. Neal had been sitting behind her, playing with her tits from behind, the perfect way to not only watch what Peter was doing but also feel its effect on her as she shuddered in his arms. He'd whispered little dirty thoughts in her ear, mostly about how beautiful she looked, how sexy, and apparently she'd decided to return the favor.
"Look at you," she said. "I bet those legs couldn't hold you up right now, could they?" She was still stroking his skin, slowly. "Do you want us to make you come now, this way?" she asked. "Sometimes it's easier."
Neal nodded his agreement, but not for that reason. It was the care, the tenderness—it made him twitch and ache. He needed to come, needed the explosion, needed Elizabeth to fuck him selfishly and ruthlessly. Peter was grazing his puckered skin with his teeth, and now he wrapped slick fingers around Neal's cock. It wouldn't take much—didn't take much—and Neal was jolted by it, crying out as he came.
Peter gave him a last kiss, then rose to his feet. "He's all yours, honey."
Neal heard them kiss and was surprised again by Elizabeth. Maybe she'd do it herself at some point, had done it to Peter. Maybe Neal should do it to her.
"Thanks, honey," she replied. Her hand was still at the small of his back but now it was holding him still as she lined up and slowly entered him. He felt the sweet burning and stretching as his ass accommodated her—well, not really her, but sort of—and she began to move.
Peter was back in the chair now, beer in hand as though he were watching the Giants and not his wife fucking his con man partner with a large blue dildo. ("To match her eyes," Peter had explained the first time Elizabeth showed it to Neal. "The realistic ones look too weird." Neal couldn't really argue with that.) "C'mon, Elle, put your back into it," he said. "If I can take it so can he."
Neal pushed back into her, encouraging her, and she responded in kind, shaking the table with the force of her thrusts. Finally, finally he was getting what he'd wanted all along, or at least since they'd arrived at his apartment, toys in hand. He could certainly think of worse ways to spend a winter Saturday. Peter watched, smiling a little like he was enjoying the show. Which, really, why wouldn't he?
Elizabeth's strap-on had a tickler at the other end, so the thrusting was working for her too, rubbing her cock against her clit. Neal felt her rhythm faltering, then her grip on his waist tightening as she moaned deeply and then collapsed on top of him.
"Wow," Neal said.
"Will that work for you, Neal?" Peter asked.
"Yeah," Neal replied. "Yeah, that'll work."
Elizabeth rolled her head so she was pillowed on his shoulder, and he turned to look at her, feeling that bone-deep contentment that often followed a good fuck. "We're gonna have to take care of Peter now," he whispered.
"True," she said. "What do you suggest?"
"Hmm," he said, pretending to think. "He's used his tongue on both of us today," he said. "Why don't we return the favor? It's big enough to share."
Elizabeth smiled, slow and sexy. "Sounds like a plan," she said.
"Hey," Peter said. "What are you two whispering about?"
They giggled. "You'll find out soon enough," Elizabeth replied, then leaned in to give Neal a kiss.
