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elrhiarhodanTitle: An Object of Desire
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elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Written For: MMOM 2013
Prompt: Ass
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, June Ellington (Peter/Neal)
Spoilers: NONE
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Mild recreational drug use
Word Count: ~1800
Summary: Peter's fascination with Neal's ass doesn't go unnoticed
A/N: Written for my dearest friendcoffeethyme4me, for a prompt on my recent prompt me meme. This wasn't supposed to be a MMOM story, but you know … strokefic happens.
__________________
June had to admit, it was a work of art, one of the very finest she’d ever seen. And at the seventy-something years she admitted to, she’d seen her share of asses. On second thought, Neal Caffrey’s ass wasn’t one of the finest, it was the finest – without peer. He certainly did justice to Byron’s wardrobe (and he had a fine, fine ass, too), and to the more casual clothes than made their way into his closet.
She liked watching Neal and his ass. If that made her a dirty old woman, she couldn’t care less. At least she wasn’t the only one who liked to covertly observe Neal’s callipygian beauty. It amused her to no end that the so stern, so upright and morally pure Peter Burke was as fascinated by those buttocks as she was.
Her husband was a musician, a businessman, a gambler and a con artist. He ran afoul of the law even when he did nothing wrong. It was all about the times and the color of his skin and those days left a mark on June. She had an instinctive distrust for badges and the people who carried them, although she treated everyone with exquisite politeness that only the most perceptive could see through. And as much as Agent Burke's fascination amused her, it worried her too. He had such power over Neal, a single word and he'd be back in prison for four more years. Another word, some "evidence" in the right hands, and Neal could be back in prison for life.
She wondered what Neal would think, what he’d say, how he’d react if he knew. Would he run? Would he freak out? Would he take it in stride and maybe use it to his advantage?
So she watched - Neal's ass and Peter watching Neal's ass. She watched and waited for Peter to do something that would stain his badge, that would reveal him to be no more moral, no less corrupt than the officers and agents who had shaken down her husband and brought misery into their lives.
But he did nothing other than make sure Neal stayed safe and as out of trouble as he possibly could. As far as she could tell, he never made an unwelcome advance towards Neal, he treated him with patience and respect - as much an equal as a friend.
Of course, she couldn’t see past the closed door of Neal’s apartment.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Peter didn’t know what to do about this … this thing. It was weird and wrong and inappropriate and illegal and if anyone found out just what was going on inside his head, he’d be stripped of his badge and quite possibly his freedom.
He was, for lack of a better word, enthralled by Neal. Captivated. Bewitched.
It manifested with his obsession over Neal Caffrey’s perfect ass. He had a hard time keeping his eyes off it. He tried to be subtle about it, keeping his eyes above Neal’s waist whenever someone else was around. But if Neal’s back was too him, especially when Neal wasn’t wearing a jacket, or better yet, just a vest over his tailored shirt - the taut fabric accentuating the beauty below, Peter couldn’t keep from staring at those perfect buttocks.
He’d get desperate sometimes, visibly aroused, and no amount of complex mental mathematics was able to distract him. Those days, he was grateful for the oversized trousers that disguised his erection until he could make it to the men’s room and beat one off. Or two.
In those moments, he hated Neal Caffrey.
He knew it wasn’t fair to blame the man. He wasn’t responsible for Peter’s physiological reactions to his perfect, luscious ass.
Stop it. Stop it now
Neal, thankfully, seemed to be oblivious to his own charms, although he did have this strut…
Peter sighed and looked out over the bullpen. Neal was there, of course. Talking and smiling and bending over. He closed his eyes, but the image of Neal’s ass in those tight, tight pants was burned into his brain. His dick leaped at the thought of plowing between them, his palms itched as he imagined holding those cheeks still, thumbs sweeping in, separating the halves, finding the treasure between …
Stop it. Stop it now
He spun his chair around and gazed out into the hot nothingness of Manhattan in July. How the hell is he going to endure almost another four years of this?
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Neal always enjoyed spending time with June. She was an excellent companion, entertaining him with stories about Byron and the gags they used to run. It was June, more than Mozzie, more than Peter, more than anyone or anything, that got him through the horrible time after Kate’s death.
She’d let him talk about her, even if it was just disconnected rambles. She didn’t judge and she didn’t preach and she didn’t try to mother him. She listened when he spoke, let him keep silent as he needed to, and gave him the space to grieve.
No matter what happened in the rest of his life, he’d never forget the generosity of her soul, and he’d repay her any way he could. And she never asked for anything more than an evening with him every once and a while.
Sometimes she’d put one of Byron’s old records on the turntable and they’d slow dance. Sometimes he’d escort her to a society function and he’d charm everyone into believing that June had taken him as a lover. But most nights, they’d sit in the living room, on the couch, sharing a whiskey and he’d listen to her reminisce. Not about the cons and the grifts and the games, but about her life with Byron. Raising daughters in this house, the everyday cares of being a mother and a wife during some turbulent times. The quiet moments – much like these – the evenings when it was just the two of them, never alone, always in love.
Tonight, Neal came home to find June sitting outside, on the terrace. Dinner had been brought up and was under gleaming silver covers. June was in a different sort of mood, very lighthearted and if Neal didn’t know better, inclined to mischief. "Join me?"
He sat down across from her, admiring the view that never failed to thrill him It was early summer and the sun was still high in the sky, but it was late enough that the oppressive heat had dissipated a bit.
June giggled.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing." She poured Champagne for both of them and giggled again.
Neal was charmed by her laughter, but puzzled. "June?"
She shrugged and smiled and sipped her bubbly.
The breeze picked up, gently stirring the air and Neal got a whiff of something. Something delightful and completely unexpected. He grinned. "June Hayden Ellington, just where did you get that."
"Cindy stopped by. I have another, what to share?" June plucked the joint from behind the ornate brooch on her jacket and handed Neal a solid gold lighter engraved with Byron's initials. "Would you do the honors?"
The each took a hit and Neal pinched out the burning end. "Good stuff - haven't had anything this fine since Amsterdam, 2003."
"Mmm, I think Cindy's dating a Dutchman."
For some reason, Neal found that hysterical.
June looked at him, her smile as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa's. "Hungry?"
"Yeah, of course."
She lifted the covers off the serving dish, revealing, of all things, a platter of fried chicken. "I know I shouldn't, my cardiologist will kill me, but …"
"Sometimes you have to live a little." Neal completed the thought and reached for a golden, crispy thigh. He bit into it, the flavors exploding into his mouth. "Mmmm."
June nibbled daintily on a leg. "Yes, this is good." She swallowed and wiped her mouth. "I figured you for a breast man, to be honest."
Neal licked his lips. "I like all parts, all kinds."
June's sudden, cat-like stare was a bit unsettling. "All kinds?"
They clearly weren't talking about chicken anymore "Yeah - I love sex. I love love."
"You loved Kate."
"Yes - she'll always be a part of me."
"Then you've accepted that she's gone?"
Neal shrugged again. "This isn't a conversation I expected to have while I half stoned, but yes. I watched her die. The man who killed her is dead."
"And what about the man who killed her murderer? What about him?"
"Peter?"
"Yes, Peter."
There was no point in lying. "That's complicated."
"No shit, Neal." June picked up the joint and lit up, taking a long, deep hit. "You want?"
He reached for it instead of answering. The hot smoke chased away the lingering blues from this conversation. "Peter's an ass man, you know. He can't take his eyes off it."
June laughed. "How long did it take you to notice?"
"I was pretty clueless at first. You've met Elizabeth…"
June nodded. "You going to do anything about it?"
Neal took another hit. "If he gave me the slightest encouragement…"
"But he won't."
"Nope. He'd rather stumble into the mens' room and beat off than fuck me. But I'm a patient man, June." Neal lifted his foot, the one with the tracker on it. "I'm not going to be wearing this thing forever."
FIN
coffeethyme4me's prompt was June notices Peter's fascination with Neal's ass and calls him on it.
Author:
elrhiarhodanFandom: White Collar
Written For: MMOM 2013
Prompt: Ass
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, June Ellington (Peter/Neal)
Spoilers: NONE
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Mild recreational drug use
Word Count: ~1800
Summary: Peter's fascination with Neal's ass doesn't go unnoticed
A/N: Written for my dearest friend
coffeethyme4me, for a prompt on my recent prompt me meme. This wasn't supposed to be a MMOM story, but you know … strokefic happens.June had to admit, it was a work of art, one of the very finest she’d ever seen. And at the seventy-something years she admitted to, she’d seen her share of asses. On second thought, Neal Caffrey’s ass wasn’t one of the finest, it was the finest – without peer. He certainly did justice to Byron’s wardrobe (and he had a fine, fine ass, too), and to the more casual clothes than made their way into his closet.
She liked watching Neal and his ass. If that made her a dirty old woman, she couldn’t care less. At least she wasn’t the only one who liked to covertly observe Neal’s callipygian beauty. It amused her to no end that the so stern, so upright and morally pure Peter Burke was as fascinated by those buttocks as she was.
Her husband was a musician, a businessman, a gambler and a con artist. He ran afoul of the law even when he did nothing wrong. It was all about the times and the color of his skin and those days left a mark on June. She had an instinctive distrust for badges and the people who carried them, although she treated everyone with exquisite politeness that only the most perceptive could see through. And as much as Agent Burke's fascination amused her, it worried her too. He had such power over Neal, a single word and he'd be back in prison for four more years. Another word, some "evidence" in the right hands, and Neal could be back in prison for life.
She wondered what Neal would think, what he’d say, how he’d react if he knew. Would he run? Would he freak out? Would he take it in stride and maybe use it to his advantage?
So she watched - Neal's ass and Peter watching Neal's ass. She watched and waited for Peter to do something that would stain his badge, that would reveal him to be no more moral, no less corrupt than the officers and agents who had shaken down her husband and brought misery into their lives.
But he did nothing other than make sure Neal stayed safe and as out of trouble as he possibly could. As far as she could tell, he never made an unwelcome advance towards Neal, he treated him with patience and respect - as much an equal as a friend.
Of course, she couldn’t see past the closed door of Neal’s apartment.
Peter didn’t know what to do about this … this thing. It was weird and wrong and inappropriate and illegal and if anyone found out just what was going on inside his head, he’d be stripped of his badge and quite possibly his freedom.
He was, for lack of a better word, enthralled by Neal. Captivated. Bewitched.
It manifested with his obsession over Neal Caffrey’s perfect ass. He had a hard time keeping his eyes off it. He tried to be subtle about it, keeping his eyes above Neal’s waist whenever someone else was around. But if Neal’s back was too him, especially when Neal wasn’t wearing a jacket, or better yet, just a vest over his tailored shirt - the taut fabric accentuating the beauty below, Peter couldn’t keep from staring at those perfect buttocks.
He’d get desperate sometimes, visibly aroused, and no amount of complex mental mathematics was able to distract him. Those days, he was grateful for the oversized trousers that disguised his erection until he could make it to the men’s room and beat one off. Or two.
In those moments, he hated Neal Caffrey.
He knew it wasn’t fair to blame the man. He wasn’t responsible for Peter’s physiological reactions to his perfect, luscious ass.
Stop it. Stop it now
Neal, thankfully, seemed to be oblivious to his own charms, although he did have this strut…
Peter sighed and looked out over the bullpen. Neal was there, of course. Talking and smiling and bending over. He closed his eyes, but the image of Neal’s ass in those tight, tight pants was burned into his brain. His dick leaped at the thought of plowing between them, his palms itched as he imagined holding those cheeks still, thumbs sweeping in, separating the halves, finding the treasure between …
Stop it. Stop it now
He spun his chair around and gazed out into the hot nothingness of Manhattan in July. How the hell is he going to endure almost another four years of this?
Neal always enjoyed spending time with June. She was an excellent companion, entertaining him with stories about Byron and the gags they used to run. It was June, more than Mozzie, more than Peter, more than anyone or anything, that got him through the horrible time after Kate’s death.
She’d let him talk about her, even if it was just disconnected rambles. She didn’t judge and she didn’t preach and she didn’t try to mother him. She listened when he spoke, let him keep silent as he needed to, and gave him the space to grieve.
No matter what happened in the rest of his life, he’d never forget the generosity of her soul, and he’d repay her any way he could. And she never asked for anything more than an evening with him every once and a while.
Sometimes she’d put one of Byron’s old records on the turntable and they’d slow dance. Sometimes he’d escort her to a society function and he’d charm everyone into believing that June had taken him as a lover. But most nights, they’d sit in the living room, on the couch, sharing a whiskey and he’d listen to her reminisce. Not about the cons and the grifts and the games, but about her life with Byron. Raising daughters in this house, the everyday cares of being a mother and a wife during some turbulent times. The quiet moments – much like these – the evenings when it was just the two of them, never alone, always in love.
Tonight, Neal came home to find June sitting outside, on the terrace. Dinner had been brought up and was under gleaming silver covers. June was in a different sort of mood, very lighthearted and if Neal didn’t know better, inclined to mischief. "Join me?"
He sat down across from her, admiring the view that never failed to thrill him It was early summer and the sun was still high in the sky, but it was late enough that the oppressive heat had dissipated a bit.
June giggled.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing." She poured Champagne for both of them and giggled again.
Neal was charmed by her laughter, but puzzled. "June?"
She shrugged and smiled and sipped her bubbly.
The breeze picked up, gently stirring the air and Neal got a whiff of something. Something delightful and completely unexpected. He grinned. "June Hayden Ellington, just where did you get that."
"Cindy stopped by. I have another, what to share?" June plucked the joint from behind the ornate brooch on her jacket and handed Neal a solid gold lighter engraved with Byron's initials. "Would you do the honors?"
The each took a hit and Neal pinched out the burning end. "Good stuff - haven't had anything this fine since Amsterdam, 2003."
"Mmm, I think Cindy's dating a Dutchman."
For some reason, Neal found that hysterical.
June looked at him, her smile as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa's. "Hungry?"
"Yeah, of course."
She lifted the covers off the serving dish, revealing, of all things, a platter of fried chicken. "I know I shouldn't, my cardiologist will kill me, but …"
"Sometimes you have to live a little." Neal completed the thought and reached for a golden, crispy thigh. He bit into it, the flavors exploding into his mouth. "Mmmm."
June nibbled daintily on a leg. "Yes, this is good." She swallowed and wiped her mouth. "I figured you for a breast man, to be honest."
Neal licked his lips. "I like all parts, all kinds."
June's sudden, cat-like stare was a bit unsettling. "All kinds?"
They clearly weren't talking about chicken anymore "Yeah - I love sex. I love love."
"You loved Kate."
"Yes - she'll always be a part of me."
"Then you've accepted that she's gone?"
Neal shrugged again. "This isn't a conversation I expected to have while I half stoned, but yes. I watched her die. The man who killed her is dead."
"And what about the man who killed her murderer? What about him?"
"Peter?"
"Yes, Peter."
There was no point in lying. "That's complicated."
"No shit, Neal." June picked up the joint and lit up, taking a long, deep hit. "You want?"
He reached for it instead of answering. The hot smoke chased away the lingering blues from this conversation. "Peter's an ass man, you know. He can't take his eyes off it."
June laughed. "How long did it take you to notice?"
"I was pretty clueless at first. You've met Elizabeth…"
June nodded. "You going to do anything about it?"
Neal took another hit. "If he gave me the slightest encouragement…"
"But he won't."
"Nope. He'd rather stumble into the mens' room and beat off than fuck me. But I'm a patient man, June." Neal lifted his foot, the one with the tracker on it. "I'm not going to be wearing this thing forever."
coffeethyme4me's prompt was June notices Peter's fascination with Neal's ass and calls him on it.
