kelly_girl | Fic: Adore (Neal/Peter)

Current Mood: devious
Current Music: My love is your love- Whitney Houston

Title: Adore
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17 all the way
Pairing: Neal/Peter
Spoilers:None
Timeline: Future fic
Disclaimer: Not mine because then it'd be on Showtime
A/N: This is all

shea's fault. She posted pics about Neal and her cute obsession with his ass and a great big bunny hopped in my lap and wouldn't leave. Especially after that close up peek of Neal's Calvin Kleins.

Summary: Peter adores Neal's ass. Dirty sexin follows

Peter’s taking a break. The bed underneath him is very comfortable as he watches Neal unpack. They’re all going to share this space, but Peter doesn’t much care where all the stuff goes. El is at work with an emergency so it’s up to them to do work on their new place, but Peter’s been working hard and thinks he deserves a treat.

Currently, that treat is watching his lover bend and stoop, arch and stretch, to put books away or hang small paintings on the wall. Neal’s shirtless and his gray jogging pants cling to his body, showing peeks and flashes of black underwear.

Peter bites his bottom lip and studies the ass in those pants. It’s a beautiful ass, firm and round, perfect. Peter tries not to laugh. It sounds like he’s talking about some type of melon but damn, he swallows hard as Neal bends from the waist, his hands down by his ankles and his ass does this, this, shimmy and Peter’s hard just like that. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, and where did they put the damn lube?

He looks around trying to remember, but crap, he’d had a big case and when he gotten in two nights ago, most of the bedroom had already been put into big brown boxes. A throat clearing cough draws his attention and he looks at Neal. Neal who is still bent down, ass swaying slightly, legs spread and watching Peter from between his own legs, his upside down face plastered with a smirk that is pure cocktease.

“Need something?”

Peter gets off the bed and in a millisecond has his hands on that full, warm ass, both hands grabbing and he wants, he wants so bad, he’s tempted to just grind his dick in between those cheeks and keep grinding until he comes. Neal will let him, Neal lets him do anything. Sometimes he worries about that but not right now. Right now he just wants Neal’s ass.

Neal huffs out a laugh as he’s dragged over to the bed, the mattress bouncing as he lands on his stomach. Peter crawls up between his legs, a hand on Neal’s lower back to hold him place even though it’s not needed. There are things that tie Neal here better than any tracker or handcuffs. Peter can’t help but pant like some dirty old man when he pulls Neal’s pants and briefs down. He tucks them beneath pale gold cheeks and just hums with contentment. He lets his fingers touch the soft, warm skin and he savors the glide of his hands over every inch.

Peter’s hard and aching but he’s hypnotized by the sight in front of him. Neal is breathing heavily too and trying to grind oh so subtly into the comforter beneath him. Actually, knowing Neal, he’s not being subtle, he’s just drawing the pleasure out. He knows Peter is watching his every movement, knows that Peter is getting off on this and that gets himoff. Neal loves being watched, being admired like some rock star. His body is like another instrument he uses to fool people. They’re so busy looking at him they don’t see the quick slip of his fingers as he takes their wallet or the quick flicker of the intelligence that lurks right beneath the true blue of his eyes. They see the smile, the hair, the eyes, and they never see the real Neal.

Well, Peter sees him. He bends down and lays cool lips on Neal’s ass and starts to press kisses all over willing flesh. The little shallow dents right above Neal’s backside get tiny licks while Peter’s hands massage and knead the handful right below. When Peter spreads the globes of Neal’s ass, Neal stops moving. He’s not panting anymore. He’s whimpering and saying something over and over.

Peter listens and realizes it’s his name, barely audible and desperately said like there is nothing Neal has ever wanted or will ever want more than he wants Peter. Peter just keeps touching and finally licks a wet sloppy stripe up and over Neal’s hole. He figures he’s got it just right when Neal shouts and tries to spread his legs even more.

The pants and briefs plus Peter’s body settling down as if to a meal, prevent him from moving. Peter licks again, tongue exploring and gliding over wrinkled and hairless skin. God, Neal’s asshole shouldn’t look this good, like Neal is waiting for a camera to come by and film him for some gay porn. Peter, the rough cop, blackmailing the poor, pretty art student.

Peter uses his thumbs to pull apart Neal’s ass even more, his tongue fighting to get inside first, while Neal clutches at sheets and pleads, promising anything if Peter will fuck him right now; ohgodpleasepleasePeterIpromiserightnowpleasepleaseIneedyouplease. The feelings coursing through Peter right now range from awe that this beautiful genius of a man has consented to share his life and body with Peter and his wife.

On the far side, but still present like a shadow, is Peter feeling the power that comes from bringing Neal to this and wonders how far he can take it. Would Neal beg for each finger until Peter makes him take his whole fist? Would Neal fuck others(besides El) and be fucked while Peter watches and coaxes him to take just one more cock? Peter’s sure he doesn’t want that but the temptation to push and push remains.

He keeps licking and lapping at Neal’s hole, one finger sliding inside like a knife through butter. When he gets two inside, Neal shudders, his body clenching tight as he tries not to come. Peter wants to stop and tell him he can come but if he does, Peter will just keep going, keep licking and touching until Neal’s hard again because Peter can’t stop, he wants it all, every shiver, every spit and sweat soaked inch of skin.

Something in him breaks and he gets up on his knees, hands pulling Neal’s pants and briefs off. Neal squirms and spreads his legs so fast Peter’s tempted to ask where he should leave the tip. Now Peter has more room and lays down between Neal‘s thighs, fingers slipping right back inside. The third one makes Neal groan.

Peter finger fucks him slowly, his lips and teeth sucking bruises into various places on Neal’s ass. He bites down hard a few times but Neal doesn’t ask him to stop. Peter realizes his possessiveness plus Neal’s apparent willingness to submit is pushing each of them beyond what they usually do together. Peter stops biting and licking. He intends to tell Neal to come but what comes out of his mouth is something different.

“That’s it baby, ride my fingers. Damn, I love how tight you are, how good you feel. I could do this all night, make you fuck yourself on my fingers over and over until you broke and cried. Do you want that? You want me to make you take it?”

Peter’s not big on dirty talk. He can and will do it, but he always feels weird. He’s more action than talking but Neal’s sobbing and frantically pushing back, a little twist in his hips at each backward thrust. Peter curls his fingers and kisses Neal’s tailbone, his lips and fingers feeling each tremble as Neal comes and comes, white trails of spunk getting everywhere.

Peter murmurs reassurance as Neal gasps and pants, his stomach heaving with each spurt. Finally he’s done and he settles back down on damp sheets, to wrung out to even care.

Peter doesn’t think, just pulls his own pants down and strokes his dick over a prone Neal. It doesn’t take him long and he comes, letting it spatter across Neal’s ass like a signature on a painting. Blue eyes meets his and Peter keeps on until Neal’s ass has stream after sticky glob of Peter on it. He almost gets hard again when Neal scoops up a dab and sucks it into his mouth.

Peter decides to lie down. He tries not contemplate too closely what just happened. That way he can convince himself it was just sex, really, really hot, mind blowing sex, but just sex, not something that should have maybe involved safe words and more toys.

Neal nudges him and gives him a kiss, their tongues meeting and greeting before Neal pulls away to lay his head on Peter’s chest, content and fulfilled almost to the point of purring. Sleep pulls at Peter and he follows it until there is nothing but cool air and Neal right beside him where he belongs.

End