elrhiarhodan

Title: Cool Down With The Rain
Author: elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Vincent Adler, Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, fantasy Vincent/Peter, fantasy Vincent/Neal
Spoilers: Forging Bonds
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Fantasy Dub-Con, Fantasy Non-Con, Masturbation
Word Count: ~1500
Summary: Vincent Adler knows he needs to eliminate Peter Burke if all his plans are to succeed. The plans in his head don’t work out quite as he wanted them to. Or maybe, subconsciously, they did. For the Kink Bingo Square – Sexual Extortion



A/N: No beta. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Title from the Annie Lennox song A Thousand Beautiful Things

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Vincent Adler sat on the terrace of his apartment in Buenos Aires, sipping a glass of wine and admiring the sunset. His exile was almost over – his plans – the ones he had been working on almost all of his life, were about to come to fruition. But things could go wrong very quickly if he wasn’t careful.

Adler reached for the file he had built on Peter Burke. It was a well-worn dossier – one he’d reviewed so many times, he had it memorized. Once he learned just who the delectable Mr. Halden really was - small time grifter with a rather amazing talent for forgery, it didn’t take much to find to uncover all of his associations - positive and otherwise. He had been concerned that the FBI agent tracking Nick/Neal on the bond forgeries could be trouble down the road.

And he had been right. Peter Burke was a problem, one that will finally, permanently be taken out of play. He probably should have eliminated him before he caught Neal and put him in jail. That was a mistake, one that was compounded like daily interest. And of course, hindsight was twenty-twenty.

He took another sip of wine and vowed not to think of any more trite metaphors.

Vincent found himself more than mildly intrigued by the puzzle the agent presented. He was more than just talented, more than smart. He was brilliant, certainly, but that didn’t explain why he was content to be a mid-level civil servant when he could have controlled the halls of power? He had something - some indefinable quality that separated him from the herd. Vincent wasn’t so stupid to think that the FBI was filled with mindless drones who couldn’t find their collective asses with their collective hands, but an agent like Burke was out of the ordinary.

He first thought about corrupting him - slowly bringing him over to his side, but everything he learned about the man said that he couldn’t be turned in the ordinary ways - he wasn’t venal, he wasn’t a hypocrite, he didn’t have any secret vices.

But he did have a weakness - one that wouldn’t necessarily make him a tool, but could destroy him if played right.

He loved.

Adler flipped through the file, to the picture of his surprisingly beautiful wife.

It worked once, it could work again - but he suspected that if he had the woman killed, Peter Burke wouldn’t become a weak-willed, malleable stooge like Garrett Fowler. No, he’d turn into a fucking archangel of vengeance, one that wouldn’t rest until the killer was brought to justice.

He turned the page and came face to face with the raison d’être for this whole thing. Neal Caffrey.

According to the latest intel, Burke had developed a surprising attachment to his own former prodigy. The man had brought him into his inner circle - Caffrey was working as an embedded CI for the FBI. How cozy - history was certainly repeating itself for Neal. Vincent licked his lips and wondered if Burke had discovered just how talented the boy was, especially when he was on his knees. He had the sweetest ass - hot and tight and just this side of unwilling. He still regretted that he didn’t take Neal with him. But taking Neal meant bringing Kate along, and she had begun to bore him.

Well, she wasn’t going to bore anyone anymore. Adler raised a glass to the memory of Kate Moreau, not the first woman he had murdered.

Sadly, Peter Burke was never going to be his asset, and if he couldn’t be his, then he needed to be destroyed. Which was certainly a pity. He hated the thought of never solving the puzzle that was Peter Burke, of never finding out what made him tick. Still, there were all sorts of ways to take him out of the game, all sorts of ways to destroy a man’s mind and soul. Maybe he didn’t have to kill him. He could just break him.

And breaking the unbreakable was just as delicious as corrupting the incorruptible.

He set the file aside and took another sip of wine. As the sky darkened and the city blossomed into a thousand bright lights, Vincent Adler contemplated how he would destroy Peter Burke – down to the very essence.

Sex was probably the easiest way, the most satisfying too. A man like Burke would have a strong sense of self, and he’d start by violating his body. He let his hand drift over his groin, enjoying the first stirrings of pleasure.

Burke was a big man, tall, muscular. He had pictures of him – ones that didn’t make it into the file – of him playing ball, running, working out. He wasn’t massive or overbuilt, and while Vincent preferred more delicate specimens – like Neal Caffrey, for instance – having a man like Peter Burke could be a real treat.

He dressed Burke in his mind – in a good suit – maybe not as good as the ones he put Neal in, but good enough to show off his assets, which he certainly had. He was big in all the ways that counted.

He knew he couldn’t physically overpower Burke – so it would be drugs. And he’d wake up naked, bound. Adler shifted, his pants getting a little tight at the thought. He thought about using rufies – he done that plenty of times. Then he reconsidered.

He wanted to break Peter – not just indulge in sexual pleasure. The man needed to be awake and aware of what was happening to him. And truth was, he wanted Burke to struggle again his ruination and then beg him for it.

Not drugs then, but extortion, which would be far sweeter than chemical stimulants. He’d tell Burke all about how Neal loved to play his little bitch, how he’d love to plunge into that sweet, tight ass. Maybe he’d show Burke the pictures he had of Neal, on his hands and knees. And then there were the videos of Neal, begging for it.

That would cast a whole new light on Neal’s involvement. It might even be enough to send the betraying little cock-slut back to jail and wreck Burke’s career in the process.

The fantasy progressed and Adler laid everything out for Burke – that unless he gave it up to him, let himself get fucked anyway he wanted, Neal would go back to prison. Back to cell he’d share with a sadistic rapist. Vincent indulged in a little mental sidebar, enjoying the fantasy of Caffrey getting his due. Getting gang banged in the prison shower lacked a certain creativity, but it was satisfying.

Vincent shook his head and brought his fantasies back to what he’d do to Burke. He’d put him through all of his favorite sexual tortures, whips and gags and all manner of bindings. He breached him first with his cock – and he was so deliciously hot and tight – and then with impossibly large dildos. He closed his eyes imagined Burke as he screamed and sobbed, as he bled. All to save his boy, his precious Neal Caffrey.

The best part started as he worked his captive over, arousing him, making him want more and more, making him beg for Adler’s cock, for his touch, for more pain, more degradation.

Then something happened to his fantasy. Burke broke free – he was out of his bindings and taking over.

Adler couldn’t seem to stop himself as he pulled his cock out and started stroking it to the thought of Peter Burke looming over him, those dark eyes flashing, that big strong body bloodied but not broken. His cock wept as he imagined Peter pushing him to his own knees, forcing him down, dominating him. He opened his mouth, fantasizing that Peter was shoving his hot, massive cock down his throat, making him take it all in one great thrust. He didn’t gag, but he couldn’t breathe as Peter’s huge dick shuttled in and out.

In his fantasy, the edges of his vision turned black and in reality, his cock was as hard as an iron bar.

Peter finally withdrew and threw him onto his stomach, pulling him up, his huge hands hard and bruising on his hips. It hurt – the spit-slicked cock pushing into his unwilling hole over and over again, tearing him, devouring him.

As Peter – no, Burke – erupted in him in his fantasy, semen exploded out of Vincent’s cock, streaking him from throat to navel.

The stars cleared from behind his eyes and the aftermath of lust turned to self-disgust. He was no one’s bitch to be used like that. But to be on the safe side, he was going to let his surrogates take care of Burke. It would be better that way.

FIN


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