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elrhiarhodanTitle: Down in the Willow Garden
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Neal/Elizabeth, Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Satchmo
Fandom: White Collar
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Caning, Crack, Mild Horror
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Set after Point Blank, Neal and the Burkes have a little problem with what Satchmo found in their back yard. They deal with it.
A/N: Story inspired by a tweet from Jeff Eastin (see end of story for screen cap). Also prompted bymonkeyonthelam’s prompt “Patio” for Promptfest VI (which is still going strong). And a very gratuitous fill for my Kink Bingo square, Caning.
The title is from a traditional Appalachian bluegrass murder song and should not be confused the W.B. Yeats poem, Down by the Salley Gardens.
______________________
“Hey hon - can you come downstairs?” El went to the third floor where her husband was playing with Neal. She stood in the doorway and admired how beautiful Neal was, arms stretched high, head bowed, legs spread. There was a lovely pattern of stripes on his ass and thighs, and the end of a cherry red dildo was peeking out from his slicked up little hole. The black anklet was a nice accessory.
Peter was using one of Neal’s favorites - a custom made malacca cane with a silver handle. He really didn’t think that there was much difference between getting beaten with an expensive English made instrument or a mass-produced toy manufactured in China, but Neal was picky and Peter was always willing to indulge his boy in things like this. Peter liked using the cane on Neal - the stripes didn’t fade so quickly - not like when he used a riding crop. The heavy cane made bruises - lovely black and blue marks that El liked to toy with when they all tumbled into bed. Marks that lasted for days and made it difficult for Neal to sit.
But right now, Peter was a little annoyed at being interrupted. “What’s the matter, El?”
She sighed, equally annoyed. “It’s Satchmo - he’s been digging in the yard.”
“Again?” Peter dropped the cane on the table. Playtime would have to wait.
“Yeah. He got into it, and found something to chew on. I had a hard time getting it away from him. I thought he was going to get mean about it.”
Peter sighed and went over to Neal, carefully taking him down and unlocking the cuffs from his hands, rubbing them to restore the circulation. “Do you want to stay here and wait for me, or do you want to come down and help?”
Neal kept his eyes closed, he didn’t answer.
“Neal?”
Neal finally turned his head and looked up. “If I help, will you let me eat standing tonight?”
Peter grinned. “I should punish you for that - trying to bargain for extra privileges. But I’m in a good mood today.” He slapped Neal’s ass, hard on the bruises, before pulling out the plug. “Come on, get dressed and help me, and we’ll see about letting you stand at the table.”
“Peter - you’re way too soft on him.” El chuckled. “He’s going to get ideas, you know.”
“True, true.” Peter spanked Neal’s ass again, taking obvious enjoyment in his discomfort.
Neal got up and fetched his clothes. “What did Satchmo dig up?”
“A femur this time.”
“I can’t understand how he got to it.”
“He dug, hon.”
“But we buried it deep.”
“Not deep enough, apparently.”
Neal pulled on his pants, wincing at the soreness in his ass. The pain was nice when he was in subspace, but now he was feeling every stroke that Peter laid on him. But tonight, after everything else was taken care of, Peter would take care of him. That was their deal, and regardless of anything, Peter always took care of him.
The three of them headed downstairs. Satchmo was laying on the rug in front of the kitchen counter. A big, dirty bone rested on a pile of newspapers, bits of meat still clinging to it. The lab was gazing at it with the attention of a raptor on its prey. The smell was revolting.
Peter put on a pair of rubber gloves, wrapped up the bone in the newspaper and took it with him. Neal followed him out into the garden. There was a deep hole in the corner. Dirt was piled up on either side and sunlight glinted off the shiny bits of torn plastic.
“Satch must have been working at that for a while.” Peter placed the bone on the patio table and stood there with his hands on his hips. “What do you think?”
Neal shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what to tell you. Last time, we buried him at least four feet deep. He was wrapped in six layers of plastic. I can’t understand how Satch got at him.”
Peter looked into the hole. “Doesn’t look like four feet anymore. Maybe the frost heave from last winter moved him closer to the surface.”
“Maybe. So we’ve got to bury him deeper this time. He’s stinks.” Neal wrinkled his nose and stepped back.
“Here you go, hon.” El joined them with a shovel in each hand and a roll of black plastic tarpaulin. A spool of duct tape was an oversized silver bangle on her wrist. She handed Peter and Neal a shovel and spread the tarp on the lawn.
“Start digging, boys.”
The work was neither easy nor fun and by the time they cleared the dirt from around the body bag, all three of them were gagging from the smell.
“Hold on.” They retreated to the patio and El ran into the house. She came back with a little blue jar. “I remember this from Silence of the Lambs.”
El went back inside. The two men smeared the strong smelling ointment under their noses to mask the stench of the rotting corpse that they pulled out of the ground.
They rewrapped the body, taped it up, and were about to drop it into the deeper hole that they dug when El rejoined them.
“I think you forgot something.” She was holding the newspaper wrapped bone.
“Fuckpuddles.” Neal bit his lip after and looked from Peter to Elizabeth. They didn’t like him cursing and Neal had learned the painful way to control his blue streak. This time, neither of them took offense at Neal’s expletive.
“Motherfuckingsonofabitch.” Peter grunted.
They had no choice. Neal carefully peeled away the duct tape and they unwrapped the corpse. Elizabeth dropped the bone onto the decomposing body and went back to the patio to watch as they rolled Garrett Fowler’s remains back up in the black plastic and taped him up again.
It was dark by the time they finished burying the body again.
Fin
Author:
elrhiarhodanRating: NC-17
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Neal/Elizabeth, Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Satchmo
Fandom: White Collar
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Caning, Crack, Mild Horror
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: Set after Point Blank, Neal and the Burkes have a little problem with what Satchmo found in their back yard. They deal with it.
A/N: Story inspired by a tweet from Jeff Eastin (see end of story for screen cap). Also prompted by
monkeyonthelam’s prompt “Patio” for Promptfest VI (which is still going strong). And a very gratuitous fill for my Kink Bingo square, Caning. The title is from a traditional Appalachian bluegrass murder song and should not be confused the W.B. Yeats poem, Down by the Salley Gardens.
“Hey hon - can you come downstairs?” El went to the third floor where her husband was playing with Neal. She stood in the doorway and admired how beautiful Neal was, arms stretched high, head bowed, legs spread. There was a lovely pattern of stripes on his ass and thighs, and the end of a cherry red dildo was peeking out from his slicked up little hole. The black anklet was a nice accessory.
Peter was using one of Neal’s favorites - a custom made malacca cane with a silver handle. He really didn’t think that there was much difference between getting beaten with an expensive English made instrument or a mass-produced toy manufactured in China, but Neal was picky and Peter was always willing to indulge his boy in things like this. Peter liked using the cane on Neal - the stripes didn’t fade so quickly - not like when he used a riding crop. The heavy cane made bruises - lovely black and blue marks that El liked to toy with when they all tumbled into bed. Marks that lasted for days and made it difficult for Neal to sit.
But right now, Peter was a little annoyed at being interrupted. “What’s the matter, El?”
She sighed, equally annoyed. “It’s Satchmo - he’s been digging in the yard.”
“Again?” Peter dropped the cane on the table. Playtime would have to wait.
“Yeah. He got into it, and found something to chew on. I had a hard time getting it away from him. I thought he was going to get mean about it.”
Peter sighed and went over to Neal, carefully taking him down and unlocking the cuffs from his hands, rubbing them to restore the circulation. “Do you want to stay here and wait for me, or do you want to come down and help?”
Neal kept his eyes closed, he didn’t answer.
“Neal?”
Neal finally turned his head and looked up. “If I help, will you let me eat standing tonight?”
Peter grinned. “I should punish you for that - trying to bargain for extra privileges. But I’m in a good mood today.” He slapped Neal’s ass, hard on the bruises, before pulling out the plug. “Come on, get dressed and help me, and we’ll see about letting you stand at the table.”
“Peter - you’re way too soft on him.” El chuckled. “He’s going to get ideas, you know.”
“True, true.” Peter spanked Neal’s ass again, taking obvious enjoyment in his discomfort.
Neal got up and fetched his clothes. “What did Satchmo dig up?”
“A femur this time.”
“I can’t understand how he got to it.”
“He dug, hon.”
“But we buried it deep.”
“Not deep enough, apparently.”
Neal pulled on his pants, wincing at the soreness in his ass. The pain was nice when he was in subspace, but now he was feeling every stroke that Peter laid on him. But tonight, after everything else was taken care of, Peter would take care of him. That was their deal, and regardless of anything, Peter always took care of him.
The three of them headed downstairs. Satchmo was laying on the rug in front of the kitchen counter. A big, dirty bone rested on a pile of newspapers, bits of meat still clinging to it. The lab was gazing at it with the attention of a raptor on its prey. The smell was revolting.
Peter put on a pair of rubber gloves, wrapped up the bone in the newspaper and took it with him. Neal followed him out into the garden. There was a deep hole in the corner. Dirt was piled up on either side and sunlight glinted off the shiny bits of torn plastic.
“Satch must have been working at that for a while.” Peter placed the bone on the patio table and stood there with his hands on his hips. “What do you think?”
Neal shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what to tell you. Last time, we buried him at least four feet deep. He was wrapped in six layers of plastic. I can’t understand how Satch got at him.”
Peter looked into the hole. “Doesn’t look like four feet anymore. Maybe the frost heave from last winter moved him closer to the surface.”
“Maybe. So we’ve got to bury him deeper this time. He’s stinks.” Neal wrinkled his nose and stepped back.
“Here you go, hon.” El joined them with a shovel in each hand and a roll of black plastic tarpaulin. A spool of duct tape was an oversized silver bangle on her wrist. She handed Peter and Neal a shovel and spread the tarp on the lawn.
“Start digging, boys.”
The work was neither easy nor fun and by the time they cleared the dirt from around the body bag, all three of them were gagging from the smell.
“Hold on.” They retreated to the patio and El ran into the house. She came back with a little blue jar. “I remember this from Silence of the Lambs.”
El went back inside. The two men smeared the strong smelling ointment under their noses to mask the stench of the rotting corpse that they pulled out of the ground.
They rewrapped the body, taped it up, and were about to drop it into the deeper hole that they dug when El rejoined them.
“I think you forgot something.” She was holding the newspaper wrapped bone.
“Fuckpuddles.” Neal bit his lip after and looked from Peter to Elizabeth. They didn’t like him cursing and Neal had learned the painful way to control his blue streak. This time, neither of them took offense at Neal’s expletive.
“Motherfuckingsonofabitch.” Peter grunted.
They had no choice. Neal carefully peeled away the duct tape and they unwrapped the corpse. Elizabeth dropped the bone onto the decomposing body and went back to the patio to watch as they rolled Garrett Fowler’s remains back up in the black plastic and taped him up again.
It was dark by the time they finished burying the body again.
