White Collar Fic - Beauty Is In the Eyes
Sep. 1st, 2010 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elrhiarhodanTitle: Beauty Is In the Eyes
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/PairingsNeal Caffrey/Peter Burke (Slash)
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Frotting, Glasses!Kink, Office Teasing, Humping, Imagining Sex in a Men's Room
Word Count: ~900
Summary: Neal finally gets his revenge. For the glasses. Written as a sort of sequel to A Secret Fetish and There is No Accounting For Desire
Update: September 9, 2013 - Rededicated to my dearestrabidchild, who is suffering from a case of giant papillary conjunctivitis.
______________________
Peter isn’t fooled for a moment by his partner’s apparent nonchalance when he playing head games with him in the office. Rolling up his shirtsleeves and toying with that big, fat pen are easy ways to unsettle Neal, and when he needs to bring out the big guns, when he wants to send Neal skittering sideways into the wall or the men’s room – he deliberately pulls out and puts on his cheaters. They’ve even talked about how and why Neal finds Peter and his glasses so arousing, but they can’t seem to solve the mystery. And frankly, Peter doesn't really want too - having such an easy way to put Neal off his game is not something he wants to give up so easily.
Neal, for all his vaunted con-artist skills, his chameleon-like abilities to adopt and discard personas at will, is as transparent as glass when it comes to his wants and needs – at least to Peter. That is why it’s such a joy to torment him in the office.
There are times; however, when Peter sits at his desk, sleeves up, glasses on, pen tapping at his lips, and wonders how it is that Neal cannot see how turned on Peter is by the hat. It’s been that way since the beginning. He loves Neal in the hat, especially when he’s wearing the black suit that makes his legs look a mile long, or the turtleneck and the black leather jacket. Oh – he disguises his lust with aggravation and even a little contempt. But there are days when he sees Neal, hat perched on his head and it’s all he can do but grab the man, shove him into the nearest men’s room and fuck him senseless. How Neal doesn’t see that is a miracle.
After two years, Peter figures that he’s finally gotten full control of himself over the hat, and he’s preparing for another round of driving Neal crazy with the naked forearms, the pen and the bifocals. It’s a slow day with nothing exciting on the docket – and after fourteen years with the Bureau, he’s entitled to a little fun sometimes. He’s called a team meeting – offering a challenge for the junior staff – to clear out a bunch of cold mortgage and securities fraud cases, and he’s prepared. The sleeves are up, the pen is out and the glasses are perched on the tip of his nose, and the smirk is one muscle twitch away from his lips.
And Neal walks in. No hat, but exquisitely tailored as usual – the Baltic blue suit, ice blue tie, blue striped shirt – and a pair of glasses. He’s seen Neal in glasses before – he’ll occasionally wear fashionable frames when they’ve gone undercover, and a handful of times at home. But never these … these monstrosities. Big and black and designed by and for Nerd Central.
“Neal?”
The man looks up at him, blinking a little. “What?”
Peter taps his own glasses, the question unspoken.
Neal squints a little. “Oh – these?” He touches the black plastic frames. “I seem to have picked up a case of conjunctivitis. Can’t wear contacts for a month, at least.”
Peter growls. He actually growls and a few of the agents sitting near him pull back. Despite the suit, despite the well-coiffed hair, Neal looks like he’s barely seventeen in those glasses. While Peter’s never been attracted by youth, the thought of having a young and impressionable Neal Caffrey under his control is almost too much to bear.
He keeps the meeting short and to the point, offering up a pound of very expensive Italian Roast coffee to the agent who clears the most cases by the end of the month. He lets Neal leave with the rest of the staff – this isn’t a challenge that’s going to excite him particularly. Not only does he have access to his own, unending supply of fine coffee; mortgage fraud bores Neal to tears. So Peter waits for about ten minutes (until his erection mostly subsides), goes downstairs and tells Neal to come with him.
There are few places in the Manhattan FBI field office that offer any sort of privacy, but Neal found one a few months ago – a long-forgotten (and very dusty) reading room in the long-term archives. Peter says nothing as he steers Neal into the elevator and then out on the 2nd level sub-basement. Peter practically pushes Neal into the small, windowless room, slams the door shut and shoves Neal against the concrete wall.
“You think you’ve got me, don’t you?”
“Peter?” Neal’s genuinely puzzled.
“You think you’ve found my breaking point – one pair of glasses deserves another? Is that it?” Peter grinds himself against Neal, hot and hard and aching.
Neal smirks and pushes back at Peter, his own erection pleasurably rubbing against the other man’s. “Well, I didn’t realize it before – but now… Now I know.”
Peter growls again and kisses Neal hard, the action of his tongue mimicking the thrusting of his clothed cock against Neal’s. They grapple with each other, rubbing and humping like a pair of schoolboys who’ve just discovered their own dicks.
Just as Peter’s about to come, Neal thrusts him away, panting. “It’s going to be a long month for you, old man.”
Peter prays for a little self control and watches as Neal strips down to nothing but his tracker and those glasses. Yes, it was going to be a long, hard and very pleasurable month.
And Neal couldn’t be happier.
Author:
elrhiarhodanRating: NC-17
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/PairingsNeal Caffrey/Peter Burke (Slash)
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Frotting, Glasses!Kink, Office Teasing, Humping, Imagining Sex in a Men's Room
Word Count: ~900
Summary: Neal finally gets his revenge. For the glasses. Written as a sort of sequel to A Secret Fetish and There is No Accounting For Desire
Update: September 9, 2013 - Rededicated to my dearest
rabidchild, who is suffering from a case of giant papillary conjunctivitis.______________________
Peter isn’t fooled for a moment by his partner’s apparent nonchalance when he playing head games with him in the office. Rolling up his shirtsleeves and toying with that big, fat pen are easy ways to unsettle Neal, and when he needs to bring out the big guns, when he wants to send Neal skittering sideways into the wall or the men’s room – he deliberately pulls out and puts on his cheaters. They’ve even talked about how and why Neal finds Peter and his glasses so arousing, but they can’t seem to solve the mystery. And frankly, Peter doesn't really want too - having such an easy way to put Neal off his game is not something he wants to give up so easily.
Neal, for all his vaunted con-artist skills, his chameleon-like abilities to adopt and discard personas at will, is as transparent as glass when it comes to his wants and needs – at least to Peter. That is why it’s such a joy to torment him in the office.
There are times; however, when Peter sits at his desk, sleeves up, glasses on, pen tapping at his lips, and wonders how it is that Neal cannot see how turned on Peter is by the hat. It’s been that way since the beginning. He loves Neal in the hat, especially when he’s wearing the black suit that makes his legs look a mile long, or the turtleneck and the black leather jacket. Oh – he disguises his lust with aggravation and even a little contempt. But there are days when he sees Neal, hat perched on his head and it’s all he can do but grab the man, shove him into the nearest men’s room and fuck him senseless. How Neal doesn’t see that is a miracle.
After two years, Peter figures that he’s finally gotten full control of himself over the hat, and he’s preparing for another round of driving Neal crazy with the naked forearms, the pen and the bifocals. It’s a slow day with nothing exciting on the docket – and after fourteen years with the Bureau, he’s entitled to a little fun sometimes. He’s called a team meeting – offering a challenge for the junior staff – to clear out a bunch of cold mortgage and securities fraud cases, and he’s prepared. The sleeves are up, the pen is out and the glasses are perched on the tip of his nose, and the smirk is one muscle twitch away from his lips.
And Neal walks in. No hat, but exquisitely tailored as usual – the Baltic blue suit, ice blue tie, blue striped shirt – and a pair of glasses. He’s seen Neal in glasses before – he’ll occasionally wear fashionable frames when they’ve gone undercover, and a handful of times at home. But never these … these monstrosities. Big and black and designed by and for Nerd Central.
“Neal?”
The man looks up at him, blinking a little. “What?”
Peter taps his own glasses, the question unspoken.
Neal squints a little. “Oh – these?” He touches the black plastic frames. “I seem to have picked up a case of conjunctivitis. Can’t wear contacts for a month, at least.”
Peter growls. He actually growls and a few of the agents sitting near him pull back. Despite the suit, despite the well-coiffed hair, Neal looks like he’s barely seventeen in those glasses. While Peter’s never been attracted by youth, the thought of having a young and impressionable Neal Caffrey under his control is almost too much to bear.
He keeps the meeting short and to the point, offering up a pound of very expensive Italian Roast coffee to the agent who clears the most cases by the end of the month. He lets Neal leave with the rest of the staff – this isn’t a challenge that’s going to excite him particularly. Not only does he have access to his own, unending supply of fine coffee; mortgage fraud bores Neal to tears. So Peter waits for about ten minutes (until his erection mostly subsides), goes downstairs and tells Neal to come with him.
There are few places in the Manhattan FBI field office that offer any sort of privacy, but Neal found one a few months ago – a long-forgotten (and very dusty) reading room in the long-term archives. Peter says nothing as he steers Neal into the elevator and then out on the 2nd level sub-basement. Peter practically pushes Neal into the small, windowless room, slams the door shut and shoves Neal against the concrete wall.
“You think you’ve got me, don’t you?”
“Peter?” Neal’s genuinely puzzled.
“You think you’ve found my breaking point – one pair of glasses deserves another? Is that it?” Peter grinds himself against Neal, hot and hard and aching.
Neal smirks and pushes back at Peter, his own erection pleasurably rubbing against the other man’s. “Well, I didn’t realize it before – but now… Now I know.”
Peter growls again and kisses Neal hard, the action of his tongue mimicking the thrusting of his clothed cock against Neal’s. They grapple with each other, rubbing and humping like a pair of schoolboys who’ve just discovered their own dicks.
Just as Peter’s about to come, Neal thrusts him away, panting. “It’s going to be a long month for you, old man.”
Peter prays for a little self control and watches as Neal strips down to nothing but his tracker and those glasses. Yes, it was going to be a long, hard and very pleasurable month.
And Neal couldn’t be happier.
FIN
