Fic: The Devil You Know (18/25)
Feb. 14th, 2014 01:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
citrinesunsetTitle: The Devil You Know
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 3300 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
A few days after New Year's, Elizabeth went up to Vermont for a wedding expo. She left on Thursday evening and wouldn't be back until Sunday night.
Neal helped her carry her bags out to the car. He stood to the side while Elizabeth kissed Peter and said goodbye.
Next, she hugged Neal and said, "Remember to listen to Peter. But make sure he eats well."
"I think I can survive without having Neal in charge of my diet," Peter said dryly.
Obeying Peter and making sure he ate well were contradictory orders. But Neal gave Elizabeth a reassuring smile and promised to do his best.
Once she'd driven away, Peter led the way back inside.
"While El's gone," Peter said, "why don't you sleep in the master bedroom with me?"
So much for getting some peace and quiet.
Despite his ambivalence about being alone with Peter, he hoped that Elizabeth's absence would lighten his workload a little. Elizabeth was great company, but she was more particular about the housekeeping than Peter was.
But it looked like Peter planned to keep Neal busy with a different kind of "work."
Peter didn't even wait a couple hours before dragging Neal upstairs.
While they walked up to the master bedroom, Neal said, "Shouldn't this wait? I have to make dinner."
"Nah, don't worry about dinner. I'll order a pizza." He looked over his shoulder at Neal and smiled. "I want to try out those cuffs El got me."
Reluctantly, Neal followed Peter into the master bedroom and stood by the bed. He watched as Peter got the cuffs out of the nightstand.
At least the cuffs were padded. He'd be comfortable while Peter had his way with him.
"Go on," Peter said. "Get undressed. You can leave you underwear on, for now."
How generous. Neal had no doubt they'd be coming off soon enough.
Neal stripped slowly and knelt on the bed. Peter stripped down to his own underwear and climbed onto the bed beside him.
Peter looked at the cuffs. With a small, wistful smile, he said, "You know, I wish I'd been the one to put the cuffs on when I arrested you."
Nodding at the cuffs, Neal said, "So, is this is a do-over?"
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Grinning, he said, "Hands behind your back."
Neal obeyed with a sigh, and Peter fastened the cuffs around his wrists.
"Neal Caffrey," Peter said, "you're under arrest for fraud, grand larceny, forgery, and racketeering. You have the right to remain silent—"
"Hey," Neal said, looking over his shoulder, "a jury of my peers found me innocent of most of those charges."
Peter shushed him. Apparently, he didn't have a right to remain silent as much as an obligation.
Peter stroked Neal's wrists. "This would be even better with my cuffs," he said.
He said it longingly, and Neal could just hear the dilemma in his voice. Did he dare break protocol by using department-issue cuffs for a sex game? Peter always wanted to play by the book, even when he wasn't being watched.
"I dunno," Peter said, "I guess these are easier on your wrists. They won't chafe as much."
"Nice of you take my wrists into consideration."
Adopting a firmer tone, Peter said, "All right, Caffrey. Time for your strip search."
"Since when do arresting agents perform strip searches? Were there budget cuts?"
Peter stroked Neal's hip. He slid his fingers into the waist of Neal's boxer briefs. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. I'm not letting you out of my sight for one minute."
Neal thought Peter was getting his role play scenarios mixed up. Was this an arrest scenario or a strip search?
"Turn around," Peter said. "Face me."
Neal shuffled around on his knees. When he was face-to-face with Peter, Peter slipped two fingers into his mouth.
"Suck," Peter said.
Neal closed his lips around Peter's fingers. Peter thrust them in and out of his mouth, fucking it.
"Gotta make sure you're not hiding anything in that sly mouth of yours," Peter said with a smile.
After a minute, Neal started to tire of Peter's fingers invading his mouth. Neal bit down, just hard enough for Peter to yelp and remove his hand.
"What the hell was that?" His eyes were wide and not at all happy.
"You wanted to play strip search," Neal said with a shrug. "I'm just getting into character. What do you think would happen if you shoved your fingers in a convict's mouth?"
Peter's expression didn't soften, but his mouth twisted into a mischievous smile. "Oh, so you want to be an uncooperative convict, huh? I'll just have to make sure you can't cause any more problems while I search you. Turn around."
Neal didn't like the sound of that, but he obeyed. Peter unbuckled one of the cuffs, leaving Neal's left hand free.
"Now, lie down," Peter said. "On your back."
Neal obeyed, but slowly. He wasn't sure he liked where this was heading. Peter lifted his arms above his head. He looped the empty cuff around one of the wooden posts in the headboard, and re-cuffed Neal's hand. Now Neal was secured to the bed.
"We can't have you interfering, can we?" Peter said. "When you don't cooperate, it makes me think you've got something to hide. I think I'm going to have to search your genitals and your rectum very thoroughly."
Peter grabbed the waist of Neal's underwear and pulled them down. Peter made a brief show of searching the folds of the fabric before tossing the underwear on the floor.
He lifted Neal's cock and balls and spent a good, long minute "searching" them. He tugged at Neal's cock so he could look at it from all angles, and even gently palpated his balls with his fingers.
Neal had been strip searched for real, and while it was one of the more degrading parts of being arrested, he could tell Peter that it wasn't like this. Strip searches did not involve groping and kneading.
Instead of focusing on Peter's search, he focused on the cuffs. These cuffs didn't even lock—they were "secured" with buckles that Neal could easily undo. It was like Peter wanted him to escape from them.
He got one of his hands free, and was in the process of freeing the other one when Peter looked up and noticed.
Peter's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips.
"Neal. What are you doing?"
"I'm escaping from custody."
Peter's nostrils flared. He grabbed Neal's free wrist and put it back in the cuff. "Oh no, you're not." He secured the buckle and pointed a finger at Neal's face. "Stay."
Then he returned to the task at hand.
By the time Peter decided that Neal's privates had been examined sufficiently, Neal's cock was agonizingly hard. It had been less of a search than a tease, and Neal's cock looked like it was begging for more.
Peter got the lube out of the nightstand. While he squirted some on his fingers, he said, "Your ass may look tight, but I bet you've hidden all sorts of stuff up there."
Neal rolled his eyes. "Right. I've got a lock pick set in my ass."
Peter pushed Neal's knees apart with his clean hand and pushed one of his lube-covered fingers into Neal's hole. The lube was too cool, and Neal jerked.
"I know that's cold," Peter said. "Maybe if you didn't escape from the cuffs, I could have warmed it up a little."
Peter quickly added another finger. The "search" took a few minutes, and Peter was especially dedicated to massaging Neal's prostate to ensure it wasn't contraband. Neal didn't think the two things could possibly be confused, but he'd long since stopped expecting any realism from this game.
Still, when Peter started to lube up his cock, Neal peered down his chest and said, "Isn't there a rule against fucking prisoners?"
Hell, even at the processing center, the guards hadn't been allowed to fuck the slaves. That hadn't stopped a couple of them from copping a feel occasionally, but with so many slaves to deal with, there wasn't much time to use searches and exams as an excuse.
Peter ignored him. He grabbed Neal's calves and pulled his legs up and back.
"You're flexible...." Peter said.
Neal squirmed. He'd never been fucked on his back before. It was strange to be able to see Peter's face, see the lust in his eyes. This position made him think of the first time Peter saw him as a slave, back at the processing center. Neal was glad he wasn't prone to blushing, or he was sure he'd be red right now.
Peter shuffled forward on his knees and moved in between Neal's legs. Still holding Neal's legs lewdly apart, he aimed his cock into Neal's ass.
To Neal's amazement, the penetration was even deeper than when he was fucked on his stomach. His legs ached from being pushed back and spread.
As Peter got going, he slowly lowered Neal's legs a few inches. His legs came to a rest on either side of Peter's waist, and Neal crossed his feet just above Peter's ass.
"Oh, yeah," Peter muttered. "This is great. I love seeing your face and your dick while I fuck you."
Neal's dick was waving back and forth obscenely. Every thrust against his prostate made him feel like he was closer and closer to coming.
Neal peered down the length of his chest and stomach, transfixed by the scene that played out in front of him: his own dick slapping against his stomach from the force of Peter's thrusts, and Peter, sweating and panting, driving his cock in and out like a piston.
Neal knew his ass would be sore for at least the next day. Peter had yet to hurt him, but he always felt a little raw after Peter was through.
The chain connecting the cuffs rattled with each thrust.
And then it was over. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and let out a small, strangled cry as he came. Neal realized he'd never seen Peter's face while he came before. Not properly. Peter looked like he was in heaven. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and some damp locks of hair fell onto his forehead.
He let go of Neal's legs as he pulled out. Neal winced as he tried to bring his legs together—they'd grown stiff and tired. His cock was still hard. The red, blood-engorged head was pointing up toward his face.
Peter sat back on his heels. He looked down at Neal's cock, giving it a strange look. He kept his eyes fixed on it for so long that Neal felt even more on display. He instinctively pulled at the cuffs, wanting to cover his groin from view.
Then, without warning, Peter bent down and touched his tongue to Neal's dick.
It was so unexpected that Neal jumped and tried to move out of reach. Peter looked up at him, eyes wide.
"Whoa, what's the matter?"
"What are you doing?"
"Never sucked a guy's dick before. I wanted to see what it was like. Relax—I'm not gonna to bite."
"But—" Neal didn't know how to finish the sentence.
Neal had never heard of an owner sucking their slave's cock before, though he was sure some people enjoyed it. Slaves were taught that giving oral sex to their masters was an act of subservience, and Neal had known free men who saw it that way. He'd always assumed that Peter was similar in that regard, at least when it came to him. He certainly seemed to like dominating him. It hadn't occurred to him that Peter might take any interest in his cock.
"Did Elizabeth put you up to this?" Neal asked. "Because if she did, it's really not necessary."
Peter frowned. "Why would you think Elizabeth put me up to it?"
Neal bit his lip. He realized this might not be the best moment to point out that Elizabeth was more concerned with his pleasure than Peter was.
When Neal didn't respond, Peter rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't pretend I haven't tried to give you a good time before. It's just, watching you suck my dick has made me curious. Maybe if you'd been a little more cooperative, a little warmer, I would've done this for you sooner."
Neal had never asked him to, but before he could say that, Peter ducked back down and tentatively licked at the shaft of Neal's cock. Slowly, he eased the head into his mouth.
Neal struggled to keep his hips still. Part of him wanted to wiggle away and escape. Peter may have thought he was doing Neal a favor, but Neal was just fine with him ignoring his dick. He liked feeling like he had control over at least one part of his body.
But another part of him was desperate to thrust his cock into Peter's mouth. The soft wetness of Peter's tongue was too much. Neal tried to hold back, but he was reaching the brink. Before he could say anything, his cock twitched in Peter's mouth and he came.
Peter was clearly not expecting it. His eyes widened, and he looked like he'd just been sprayed in the face with a fire hose. Grimacing, he pulled back.
Neal's softening cock flopped out of his mouth. The head glistened with spit and come.
Neal was mortified. He was sure Peter would be mad at him, even if he'd never asked for the stupid blowjob.
Still making a face like he'd drank sour milk, Peter grabbed several tissues from the box on the nightstand and spit out the mouthful of come.
Neal's embarrassment was quickly overcome by vindication.
"See?" he said, lifting his head from the pillow. "You don't like it, either."
"Don't start."
"If you're going to spit it out, I should be allowed to spit, too."
Peter narrowed his eyes and swatted Neal's thigh. It was a light, almost playful slap, and Neal could tell he wasn't actually that annoyed.
"All right, enough from you, or I'll leave you in those cuffs for a while longer."
It wasn't much of a threat, considering Neal could manage the buckles just fine without Peter's help. But he didn't say anything more.
Peter released Neal from the cuffs. After Neal sat up, Peter took his wrists in his hands and checked for marks. There were some indentations in his skin where the edges of the cuffs had dug in, but nothing that wouldn't fade within minutes.
"The cuffs seem comfortable," Peter said. "Doesn't look like you'll have any bruises."
"They're better than handcuffs. I'll give them that."
Easier to get out of, too.
"See?" Peter said, rubbing Neal's wrists. "It's not so bad, having sex with me."
"I never said it was bad. I know there are worse things than being a pleasure slave."
"I know. You just like to pretend you're in control of everything. Hard to do when you've never been with a man before. I know when you're with El, you probably pretend you guys are lovers. That's fine. I get it. I just don't understand why it can't be the same with me."
Peter seemed to think it was easy for him to pretend. But Neal was far too driven by his heart when it came to sex.
But things were no longer as clear as they'd been. He was straight, yes, but he couldn't deny that Peter was gentle and capable of making the sex pleasurable. And he knew that his life would be easier—better, even—if he could try to make the most of it.
It was his pride that prevented him from giving in.
"If it makes you feel better," Peter said, "I've never done most of this stuff before, either. We're learning the ropes together."
"Do you find me attractive?" Neal asked.
Being attracted to a person was different than being attracted to the idea of fucking a slave. A lot of owners saw their slaves as mere toys.
Peter hesitated. Evidently, the answer wasn't obvious to him. Or he didn't want to admit to it.
"Yeah, I guess I do."
"Even if I was your equal?"
Peter sighed. "I don't know, Neal. If you'd never done the things you did to get enslaved, if I hadn't chased you...how am I supposed to know how things would be?"
Neal grinned. "You like that I'm a criminal, don't you? It excites you."
"Neal...."
"You like someone who gives you a challenge."
"All right, all right. Enough." But Peter's tone was gentle, and he was smiling. "I like a challenge as long as I win."
Neal pointed to his collar. "I think you can already say you've won."
"Hmm." Peter sounded doubtful. "Maybe."
* * *
After they washed up and got dressed, Peter ordered a pizza.
Elizabeth had left a list of chores for Neal on the refrigerator, and while Peter wasn't looking, Neal took it down and folded it up in his pocket. Peter didn't need to know what he was supposed to be doing.
Sleeping with Peter that night was more comfortable than Neal had expected. With Elizabeth away, he was able to take advantage of the extra room. And their mattress was newer than his. Neal stretched out. He could smell Elizabeth's shampoo on the pillow.
In the middle of the night, he woke up to Peter mumbling in his sleep. Neal lifted his head off the pillow and listened for a minute.
"Shoot the coffee machine," Peter murmured. "Diana. Shoot it...."
"Peter," Neal said softly, "it's all right. You're dreaming."
"Jones drank the coffee. He's a zombie...."
Neal nudged Peter with his foot. "It's okay. The coffee's gone."
Peter jerked awake. "Wha--?"
"You were dreaming," Neal said. "Talking in your sleep."
Peter smacked his lips. "I don't talk in my sleep."
"Then how do I know you were dreaming about coffee and zombies?"
Peter didn't have a response for that. Looking a little sheepish, he cleared his throat and said, "Sorry I woke you."
"I wasn't really sleeping, anyway."
Peter slid his arm under Neal's neck and wrapped it around his shoulders. He rubbed Neal's back with a light touch.
Neal wondered if he held Elizabeth like this. Maybe Peter got lonely when she wasn't around. Whenever Peter made Neal sleep in the master bedroom, Neal assumed Peter was thinking with his dick. But Peter didn't take advantage of many opportunities to grope him while they lay in bed together. It'd never occurred to Neal before that Peter might just like having him close.
Neal had to concede that sleeping with Peter was more intimate than having sex with him. Peter couldn't put on the stern master persona while he was mumbling about evil coffee machines. Neal wondered what he revealed about himself to Peter during nights like this. He'd never been able to come up with a reason for why he dreaded being made to sleep next to Peter, but now he knew: intimacy.
In some ways, this whole arrangement was easier without intimacy. More dignified, at least. But in other ways, it was easier with some intimacy. It took some of the fight out of their relationship, and Neal was getting tired of fighting. He had four years of this to look forward to—a small sentence, all things considered, but long enough to wear him out if he spent the whole time fighting Peter.
He pressed up against Peter's warm body, and lay his head back down on the pillow, trapping Peter's arm beneath it.
Chapter 19
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 3300 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
A few days after New Year's, Elizabeth went up to Vermont for a wedding expo. She left on Thursday evening and wouldn't be back until Sunday night.
Neal helped her carry her bags out to the car. He stood to the side while Elizabeth kissed Peter and said goodbye.
Next, she hugged Neal and said, "Remember to listen to Peter. But make sure he eats well."
"I think I can survive without having Neal in charge of my diet," Peter said dryly.
Obeying Peter and making sure he ate well were contradictory orders. But Neal gave Elizabeth a reassuring smile and promised to do his best.
Once she'd driven away, Peter led the way back inside.
"While El's gone," Peter said, "why don't you sleep in the master bedroom with me?"
So much for getting some peace and quiet.
Despite his ambivalence about being alone with Peter, he hoped that Elizabeth's absence would lighten his workload a little. Elizabeth was great company, but she was more particular about the housekeeping than Peter was.
But it looked like Peter planned to keep Neal busy with a different kind of "work."
Peter didn't even wait a couple hours before dragging Neal upstairs.
While they walked up to the master bedroom, Neal said, "Shouldn't this wait? I have to make dinner."
"Nah, don't worry about dinner. I'll order a pizza." He looked over his shoulder at Neal and smiled. "I want to try out those cuffs El got me."
Reluctantly, Neal followed Peter into the master bedroom and stood by the bed. He watched as Peter got the cuffs out of the nightstand.
At least the cuffs were padded. He'd be comfortable while Peter had his way with him.
"Go on," Peter said. "Get undressed. You can leave you underwear on, for now."
How generous. Neal had no doubt they'd be coming off soon enough.
Neal stripped slowly and knelt on the bed. Peter stripped down to his own underwear and climbed onto the bed beside him.
Peter looked at the cuffs. With a small, wistful smile, he said, "You know, I wish I'd been the one to put the cuffs on when I arrested you."
Nodding at the cuffs, Neal said, "So, is this is a do-over?"
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Grinning, he said, "Hands behind your back."
Neal obeyed with a sigh, and Peter fastened the cuffs around his wrists.
"Neal Caffrey," Peter said, "you're under arrest for fraud, grand larceny, forgery, and racketeering. You have the right to remain silent—"
"Hey," Neal said, looking over his shoulder, "a jury of my peers found me innocent of most of those charges."
Peter shushed him. Apparently, he didn't have a right to remain silent as much as an obligation.
Peter stroked Neal's wrists. "This would be even better with my cuffs," he said.
He said it longingly, and Neal could just hear the dilemma in his voice. Did he dare break protocol by using department-issue cuffs for a sex game? Peter always wanted to play by the book, even when he wasn't being watched.
"I dunno," Peter said, "I guess these are easier on your wrists. They won't chafe as much."
"Nice of you take my wrists into consideration."
Adopting a firmer tone, Peter said, "All right, Caffrey. Time for your strip search."
"Since when do arresting agents perform strip searches? Were there budget cuts?"
Peter stroked Neal's hip. He slid his fingers into the waist of Neal's boxer briefs. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. I'm not letting you out of my sight for one minute."
Neal thought Peter was getting his role play scenarios mixed up. Was this an arrest scenario or a strip search?
"Turn around," Peter said. "Face me."
Neal shuffled around on his knees. When he was face-to-face with Peter, Peter slipped two fingers into his mouth.
"Suck," Peter said.
Neal closed his lips around Peter's fingers. Peter thrust them in and out of his mouth, fucking it.
"Gotta make sure you're not hiding anything in that sly mouth of yours," Peter said with a smile.
After a minute, Neal started to tire of Peter's fingers invading his mouth. Neal bit down, just hard enough for Peter to yelp and remove his hand.
"What the hell was that?" His eyes were wide and not at all happy.
"You wanted to play strip search," Neal said with a shrug. "I'm just getting into character. What do you think would happen if you shoved your fingers in a convict's mouth?"
Peter's expression didn't soften, but his mouth twisted into a mischievous smile. "Oh, so you want to be an uncooperative convict, huh? I'll just have to make sure you can't cause any more problems while I search you. Turn around."
Neal didn't like the sound of that, but he obeyed. Peter unbuckled one of the cuffs, leaving Neal's left hand free.
"Now, lie down," Peter said. "On your back."
Neal obeyed, but slowly. He wasn't sure he liked where this was heading. Peter lifted his arms above his head. He looped the empty cuff around one of the wooden posts in the headboard, and re-cuffed Neal's hand. Now Neal was secured to the bed.
"We can't have you interfering, can we?" Peter said. "When you don't cooperate, it makes me think you've got something to hide. I think I'm going to have to search your genitals and your rectum very thoroughly."
Peter grabbed the waist of Neal's underwear and pulled them down. Peter made a brief show of searching the folds of the fabric before tossing the underwear on the floor.
He lifted Neal's cock and balls and spent a good, long minute "searching" them. He tugged at Neal's cock so he could look at it from all angles, and even gently palpated his balls with his fingers.
Neal had been strip searched for real, and while it was one of the more degrading parts of being arrested, he could tell Peter that it wasn't like this. Strip searches did not involve groping and kneading.
Instead of focusing on Peter's search, he focused on the cuffs. These cuffs didn't even lock—they were "secured" with buckles that Neal could easily undo. It was like Peter wanted him to escape from them.
He got one of his hands free, and was in the process of freeing the other one when Peter looked up and noticed.
Peter's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips.
"Neal. What are you doing?"
"I'm escaping from custody."
Peter's nostrils flared. He grabbed Neal's free wrist and put it back in the cuff. "Oh no, you're not." He secured the buckle and pointed a finger at Neal's face. "Stay."
Then he returned to the task at hand.
By the time Peter decided that Neal's privates had been examined sufficiently, Neal's cock was agonizingly hard. It had been less of a search than a tease, and Neal's cock looked like it was begging for more.
Peter got the lube out of the nightstand. While he squirted some on his fingers, he said, "Your ass may look tight, but I bet you've hidden all sorts of stuff up there."
Neal rolled his eyes. "Right. I've got a lock pick set in my ass."
Peter pushed Neal's knees apart with his clean hand and pushed one of his lube-covered fingers into Neal's hole. The lube was too cool, and Neal jerked.
"I know that's cold," Peter said. "Maybe if you didn't escape from the cuffs, I could have warmed it up a little."
Peter quickly added another finger. The "search" took a few minutes, and Peter was especially dedicated to massaging Neal's prostate to ensure it wasn't contraband. Neal didn't think the two things could possibly be confused, but he'd long since stopped expecting any realism from this game.
Still, when Peter started to lube up his cock, Neal peered down his chest and said, "Isn't there a rule against fucking prisoners?"
Hell, even at the processing center, the guards hadn't been allowed to fuck the slaves. That hadn't stopped a couple of them from copping a feel occasionally, but with so many slaves to deal with, there wasn't much time to use searches and exams as an excuse.
Peter ignored him. He grabbed Neal's calves and pulled his legs up and back.
"You're flexible...." Peter said.
Neal squirmed. He'd never been fucked on his back before. It was strange to be able to see Peter's face, see the lust in his eyes. This position made him think of the first time Peter saw him as a slave, back at the processing center. Neal was glad he wasn't prone to blushing, or he was sure he'd be red right now.
Peter shuffled forward on his knees and moved in between Neal's legs. Still holding Neal's legs lewdly apart, he aimed his cock into Neal's ass.
To Neal's amazement, the penetration was even deeper than when he was fucked on his stomach. His legs ached from being pushed back and spread.
As Peter got going, he slowly lowered Neal's legs a few inches. His legs came to a rest on either side of Peter's waist, and Neal crossed his feet just above Peter's ass.
"Oh, yeah," Peter muttered. "This is great. I love seeing your face and your dick while I fuck you."
Neal's dick was waving back and forth obscenely. Every thrust against his prostate made him feel like he was closer and closer to coming.
Neal peered down the length of his chest and stomach, transfixed by the scene that played out in front of him: his own dick slapping against his stomach from the force of Peter's thrusts, and Peter, sweating and panting, driving his cock in and out like a piston.
Neal knew his ass would be sore for at least the next day. Peter had yet to hurt him, but he always felt a little raw after Peter was through.
The chain connecting the cuffs rattled with each thrust.
And then it was over. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and let out a small, strangled cry as he came. Neal realized he'd never seen Peter's face while he came before. Not properly. Peter looked like he was in heaven. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and some damp locks of hair fell onto his forehead.
He let go of Neal's legs as he pulled out. Neal winced as he tried to bring his legs together—they'd grown stiff and tired. His cock was still hard. The red, blood-engorged head was pointing up toward his face.
Peter sat back on his heels. He looked down at Neal's cock, giving it a strange look. He kept his eyes fixed on it for so long that Neal felt even more on display. He instinctively pulled at the cuffs, wanting to cover his groin from view.
Then, without warning, Peter bent down and touched his tongue to Neal's dick.
It was so unexpected that Neal jumped and tried to move out of reach. Peter looked up at him, eyes wide.
"Whoa, what's the matter?"
"What are you doing?"
"Never sucked a guy's dick before. I wanted to see what it was like. Relax—I'm not gonna to bite."
"But—" Neal didn't know how to finish the sentence.
Neal had never heard of an owner sucking their slave's cock before, though he was sure some people enjoyed it. Slaves were taught that giving oral sex to their masters was an act of subservience, and Neal had known free men who saw it that way. He'd always assumed that Peter was similar in that regard, at least when it came to him. He certainly seemed to like dominating him. It hadn't occurred to him that Peter might take any interest in his cock.
"Did Elizabeth put you up to this?" Neal asked. "Because if she did, it's really not necessary."
Peter frowned. "Why would you think Elizabeth put me up to it?"
Neal bit his lip. He realized this might not be the best moment to point out that Elizabeth was more concerned with his pleasure than Peter was.
When Neal didn't respond, Peter rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't pretend I haven't tried to give you a good time before. It's just, watching you suck my dick has made me curious. Maybe if you'd been a little more cooperative, a little warmer, I would've done this for you sooner."
Neal had never asked him to, but before he could say that, Peter ducked back down and tentatively licked at the shaft of Neal's cock. Slowly, he eased the head into his mouth.
Neal struggled to keep his hips still. Part of him wanted to wiggle away and escape. Peter may have thought he was doing Neal a favor, but Neal was just fine with him ignoring his dick. He liked feeling like he had control over at least one part of his body.
But another part of him was desperate to thrust his cock into Peter's mouth. The soft wetness of Peter's tongue was too much. Neal tried to hold back, but he was reaching the brink. Before he could say anything, his cock twitched in Peter's mouth and he came.
Peter was clearly not expecting it. His eyes widened, and he looked like he'd just been sprayed in the face with a fire hose. Grimacing, he pulled back.
Neal's softening cock flopped out of his mouth. The head glistened with spit and come.
Neal was mortified. He was sure Peter would be mad at him, even if he'd never asked for the stupid blowjob.
Still making a face like he'd drank sour milk, Peter grabbed several tissues from the box on the nightstand and spit out the mouthful of come.
Neal's embarrassment was quickly overcome by vindication.
"See?" he said, lifting his head from the pillow. "You don't like it, either."
"Don't start."
"If you're going to spit it out, I should be allowed to spit, too."
Peter narrowed his eyes and swatted Neal's thigh. It was a light, almost playful slap, and Neal could tell he wasn't actually that annoyed.
"All right, enough from you, or I'll leave you in those cuffs for a while longer."
It wasn't much of a threat, considering Neal could manage the buckles just fine without Peter's help. But he didn't say anything more.
Peter released Neal from the cuffs. After Neal sat up, Peter took his wrists in his hands and checked for marks. There were some indentations in his skin where the edges of the cuffs had dug in, but nothing that wouldn't fade within minutes.
"The cuffs seem comfortable," Peter said. "Doesn't look like you'll have any bruises."
"They're better than handcuffs. I'll give them that."
Easier to get out of, too.
"See?" Peter said, rubbing Neal's wrists. "It's not so bad, having sex with me."
"I never said it was bad. I know there are worse things than being a pleasure slave."
"I know. You just like to pretend you're in control of everything. Hard to do when you've never been with a man before. I know when you're with El, you probably pretend you guys are lovers. That's fine. I get it. I just don't understand why it can't be the same with me."
Peter seemed to think it was easy for him to pretend. But Neal was far too driven by his heart when it came to sex.
But things were no longer as clear as they'd been. He was straight, yes, but he couldn't deny that Peter was gentle and capable of making the sex pleasurable. And he knew that his life would be easier—better, even—if he could try to make the most of it.
It was his pride that prevented him from giving in.
"If it makes you feel better," Peter said, "I've never done most of this stuff before, either. We're learning the ropes together."
"Do you find me attractive?" Neal asked.
Being attracted to a person was different than being attracted to the idea of fucking a slave. A lot of owners saw their slaves as mere toys.
Peter hesitated. Evidently, the answer wasn't obvious to him. Or he didn't want to admit to it.
"Yeah, I guess I do."
"Even if I was your equal?"
Peter sighed. "I don't know, Neal. If you'd never done the things you did to get enslaved, if I hadn't chased you...how am I supposed to know how things would be?"
Neal grinned. "You like that I'm a criminal, don't you? It excites you."
"Neal...."
"You like someone who gives you a challenge."
"All right, all right. Enough." But Peter's tone was gentle, and he was smiling. "I like a challenge as long as I win."
Neal pointed to his collar. "I think you can already say you've won."
"Hmm." Peter sounded doubtful. "Maybe."
After they washed up and got dressed, Peter ordered a pizza.
Elizabeth had left a list of chores for Neal on the refrigerator, and while Peter wasn't looking, Neal took it down and folded it up in his pocket. Peter didn't need to know what he was supposed to be doing.
Sleeping with Peter that night was more comfortable than Neal had expected. With Elizabeth away, he was able to take advantage of the extra room. And their mattress was newer than his. Neal stretched out. He could smell Elizabeth's shampoo on the pillow.
In the middle of the night, he woke up to Peter mumbling in his sleep. Neal lifted his head off the pillow and listened for a minute.
"Shoot the coffee machine," Peter murmured. "Diana. Shoot it...."
"Peter," Neal said softly, "it's all right. You're dreaming."
"Jones drank the coffee. He's a zombie...."
Neal nudged Peter with his foot. "It's okay. The coffee's gone."
Peter jerked awake. "Wha--?"
"You were dreaming," Neal said. "Talking in your sleep."
Peter smacked his lips. "I don't talk in my sleep."
"Then how do I know you were dreaming about coffee and zombies?"
Peter didn't have a response for that. Looking a little sheepish, he cleared his throat and said, "Sorry I woke you."
"I wasn't really sleeping, anyway."
Peter slid his arm under Neal's neck and wrapped it around his shoulders. He rubbed Neal's back with a light touch.
Neal wondered if he held Elizabeth like this. Maybe Peter got lonely when she wasn't around. Whenever Peter made Neal sleep in the master bedroom, Neal assumed Peter was thinking with his dick. But Peter didn't take advantage of many opportunities to grope him while they lay in bed together. It'd never occurred to Neal before that Peter might just like having him close.
Neal had to concede that sleeping with Peter was more intimate than having sex with him. Peter couldn't put on the stern master persona while he was mumbling about evil coffee machines. Neal wondered what he revealed about himself to Peter during nights like this. He'd never been able to come up with a reason for why he dreaded being made to sleep next to Peter, but now he knew: intimacy.
In some ways, this whole arrangement was easier without intimacy. More dignified, at least. But in other ways, it was easier with some intimacy. It took some of the fight out of their relationship, and Neal was getting tired of fighting. He had four years of this to look forward to—a small sentence, all things considered, but long enough to wear him out if he spent the whole time fighting Peter.
He pressed up against Peter's warm body, and lay his head back down on the pillow, trapping Peter's arm beneath it.
Chapter 19
