Fandom: White Collar
Word Count: 9,483 this part
Beta Credit: elrhiarhodan
Warnings: Violence, knife use, non-canon death of canon characters (pre story)
Summary: Peter Burke is a high-end jeweler. When he meets Neal Caffrey, a talented young jewelry designer, it seems like a match made in heaven. But when Neal discovers that Peter is an ancient dragon, it sets in motion a firestorm that neither one may survive.
“Frankly, I’m very disappointed, Mr. Burke.” The thin bleached blonde matron pursed her lips. “I was informed by my friends that this was the place to go for high-end one of a kind items. All I see here are the usual pieces I’ve seen in every other store.”
Diana watched as her boss dealt with the woman in front of him. She was the wife of Henry Templeton, one of the most influential real estate developers in New York. She was a rich bitch who thought that her word was gold and that she should get special treatment from every jeweler in town. Diana didn’t need to see Peter’s face to know that he was trying to keep his temper in check. It was written in the tension of his back and shoulders.
This woman had never stepped foot in the store before and if Diana had her way the woman would never come back after today.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Templeton.” Peter modulated his tone but Diana could still hear the utter contempt he had for her. “Maybe if you could be more specific in terms of what you are looking for?”
“Something unique of course.” This was said in a voice dripping with arrogance. Her demeanor was so annoying that Diana would pay good money to see Peter flame her. There was a rumbling, like distant thunder, and Diana realized Peter was cursing in Draconic. She caught the tail end of his comment and quickly turned her head to snort. It wouldn’t do to let the customers see the lick of fire that shot out of her nose.
The front door chime brought a subtle change in the atmosphere of the showroom that stole Diana’s attention. She glanced over then did a double take when what had to be the most exquisite man she had ever seen stopped to talk to the security guard-cum-concierge at the door.
Dark hair, perfect cheekbones, perfect smile. Perfect everything, she thought. He was dressed in black slacks and a black silk V-neck sweater. As the salesperson pointed at Peter, Diana glanced at her watch – 8:55 – and realized that Neal Caffrey had just walked into the store. Immediately she understood Peter’s behavior from last night.
The man looked and smelled delicious. Some sort of citrusy, woodsy smell overlaying a subtle something that made her think Peter had already unconsciously marked him in some way.
She grinned and moved closer to her boss. This was going to be good and she wanted a front row seat.
Mrs. Templeton was still going on and on about how she couldn’t find anything remotely suitable for her daughter’s wedding, when Caffrey approached Peter. He paused, listening, and in a voice silky as sin, spoke over Peter’s shoulder. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing your comments, ma’am.”
Peter’s head flew up as he turned to see Neal. The smile on Neal’s face was innocent, but the look in his eye indicated he’d been standing there long enough to hear their conversation. And that he agreed with Peter. Diana liked him already.
“And who are you?” Mrs. Templeton looked him up and down and sniffed.
Peter jumped in immediately. “This is Neal, my in-house designer.” Diana’s eyes widened at Peter’s blatant lie and she held in her mirth. This was just getting better and better. “He was bringing me some new pieces that you might be interested in.”
“Absolutely.” As Neal turned to place his case on the nearby counter, he gave Peter a wink. “A woman such as yourself definitely has an eye for the unusual.” He smiled, and like magic, Mrs. Templeton was captivated.
Diana watched in utter amazement as Neal charmed the older woman, turning her into a giggling debutante. He flirted shamelessly, listened intently, and within twenty minutes had her convinced that she needed to buy fifty thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry – at retail cost - to wear at her daughter’s wedding. She left, clutching her packages and a dozen of Peter’s business cards, proclaiming that she would never shop anywhere else and that neither would any of her friends.
“Thank God that’s over.” Peter blew out a breath and motioned for Neal and Diana to follow him. “I could use a drink.”
“It’s nine thirty in the morning, boss.” Diana knew where he was headed but teased him anyway. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early for that?”
“It’s never too early for Italian Roast,” Peter commented as they entered the staff break room. “Want a cup, Neal?”
“I’ll never turn down Italian Roast.” Neal leaned against the counter as Peter fired up the Keurig and brought two mugs down from the cupboard. “Diana?”
She shook her head, heading to the counter to make herself some tea.
“Let’s get the official introductions out of the way. Diana Berrigan, meet Neal Caffrey, the designer I told you about. Diana’s my manager.” Diana watched as Peter leaned in to the other man and whispered, sotto voce. “She keeps me on the straight and narrow. I’m totally terrified of her.”
“Boss!” Diana mock glared at him.
“Nice to meet you.” Smiling, Neal held out his hand. Diana shook it, impressed with his strong grip.
“Peter’s raved about you. Your work’s remarkable.”
“Thank you.” Neal accepted the cup of coffee and followed Peter to the table.
“Actually, I need to thank you for saving my ass out there just now.” Peter sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him. He took a sip of his coffee and closed his eyes in pleasure. Neal’s gaze raked down Peter’s form, a fact Diana did not fail to notice. It looked like the attraction went both ways. She smiled behind her mug.
“I couldn’t let her leave and spread lies about your store.” Neal rested his elbows on the table. “Now you have a new customer and the potential for more business.”
“That’s why you need to come and work for me. My guess is that she’ll only let you take care of her from now on.” Peter put his cup down and leaned in, his gaze intense. Diana recognized the tone and body language that Peter used when he was negotiating a deal. It’s what usually got him what he wanted. And he wanted Neal.
“Peter, I’m not sure -,” Neal began, but Peter cut him off.
“I told her you work here, Neal, and I never lie to a customer. What will it take for you to agree to work for me?”
Several emotions flitted across Neal’s face as he took in Peter’s words. Diana could see indecision, excitement, fear, hope. Subtly, she got Peter’s attention and shook her head. He was pushing too hard and if he continued, Neal would bolt, she was sure of it.
Peter took the hint and relaxed, picking up his cup for another drink. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s talk about the dragons. Tell me you brought them.”
“I did.” Neal reached into his jacket pocket and took out several velvet bags.
Diana held her breath. These were what had sent Peter into a tailspin last night. As Neal revealed them one by one, she felt her own inner dragon stir. They were exactly as Peter had described and she wanted them so badly. Turning to Peter, she saw his hand twitch, aching to touch them.
She watched him look at Neal, silently asking permission to hold one. Neal nodded and placed the Welch Dragon in Peter’s palm. “Beautiful…” Peter breathed reverently. “So beautiful.” His fingers stroked the piece and Diana heard a quick indrawn gasp.
Neal was staring at Peter’s fingers, eyes wide and mouth parted. He shifted and Diana could scent the want rolling off of him in waves. Peter’s head reared up and she could see his nostrils flare and felt the temperature in the room start to increase. She needed to diffuse the situation or Peter would present right in the middle of the break room.
“They are gorgeous. May I?” She pitched her voice, subvocalizing Stop. Peter, blinked, shook himself slightly and took a deep breath.
Diana engaged Neal in discussion while Peter collected himself. Once she knew he was back in control, she stood up, saying, “Maybe we should show Neal his potential workspace?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Peter rose and put his cup into the sink. “Maybe I can entice you to say yes now.”
Diana hung back as the two men walked ahead of her, discussing what Peter was looking for in a designer. Peter was under control, but just barely, and Diana saw the subtle touches, the glances, the discreet posturing, as he attempted to sway Neal’s decision. What was amusing to her was the fact that Neal mirrored Peter’s gestures, head tilted to ask a question, body placed in harmony with the other man. He unconsciously leaned into Peter’s hand as it skimmed over Neal’s back when he let the younger man go first into the space that would be his studio.
They were beautiful together, she thought. Peter in his tailored Armani suit, Neal in black, their emotions charged with enough electricity that she could power Grand Central Station if she could harness it. God forbid they should ever have sex, she chuckled to herself. They’d level half a city block.
The three of them ended up in the vault in the basement, jewels spread out across the display table. Everything from opals and rubies to emeralds and diamonds were jumbled up in a pile that reminded Diana of a storybook depiction of some mythical dragon’s hoard. Peter and Neal were like two little boys at Christmas, sharing what Santa had brought them.
Peter was picking out several stones and offering them to Neal to look at. If Neal liked one, he put it aside in an ever-growing mound of color. She inhaled sharply when she realized what Peter was doing. Whether he’d realized it or not, he was creating a cache for Neal. The last time she’d seen that happen was when her brother was courting his mate.
In all her time with Peter, she’d never seen him this interested in someone. For a while she’d thought it would happen with David, but -. She shook the memory off. David was the past. And it looked like Neal might be Peter’s future.
“Peter.” Her voice broke into their reverie. “I need to go upstairs and check on things…” Two sets of eyes looked up at her, their colors different, their expressions identical. “Don’t stay down here too long.” She winked at them and left the room.
Sometime later she was finishing up some paperwork when they entered her office. She leaned back in her chair and regarded the two men. Peter had a smile on his face, which told her that Neal had accepted the other man’s offer.
“So, how much is this going to set us back?” Diana made sure to pitch her tone so that Neal knew she was teasing.
“Not too terribly much.” Peter perched on the edge of her desk. “Neal’s agreed to let us display his dragons as an exhibit here in the store. In return, he’s signing on as a consultant. That way he can still create items that are not exclusively for The Dragon’s Hoard.”
Diana glanced at Neal with a wry look. “But we have first refusal, right?”
“Of course.” Neal’s eyes glittered with humor.
“I’ll need for you to order the supplies and tools we discussed earlier so they can be shipped as soon as possible.” As Peter began listing the items, Diana waved him off.
“Already done, boss. I put a rush on them and they’ll be here Tuesday.” She smiled widely at Neal’s laugh.
“How’d you know I would take the position?” Neal asked her.
“Instinct.” And pheromones, she thought to herself.
“This is why she’s in charge,” Peter said with a chuckle. “I’m just window dressing.”
“You definitely do your job well.” Neal’s gaze traveled up and down Peter’s body and he blushed. Looking at his watch, he said, “I need to go. Elizabeth is manning the booth at Lincoln Center all by herself and you know how the Friday crowds are.”
“I do.” Peter nodded. “So I’ll see you tonight at seven for dinner and we can go over the final details?”
“Absolutely.” Neal held out his hand for Peter to shake. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Great. I’ll let Rico know to send you up when you get here.” The two men shook hands, and Diana scented the marking that Peter placed on Neal. “This is going to be a great partnership, I can feel it.”
“Me too. Diana, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Neal shook her hand.
“Let me walk you out.” Peter placed his hand low on Neal’s back. His fingers splayed out in a very possessive gesture that echoed the behavior he’d exhibited all morning. If any of their kin were around Lincoln Center today, they’d know to stay far away from Neal Caffrey.
Diana watched them head to the door, exchange a few words, then Neal was gone. Peter walked back to her with a definite strut in his step.
“Your alpha dragon is showing,” she murmured, falling into step with him as they climbed the stairs to his office.
Peter had the grace to blush. “Yeah, I know. Thank you,” he said and she knew he meant about her warning.
“No problem.” She chuckled. “Oh and Peter…dinner? You sure that’s wise?” She quirked an eyebrow.
“It’s just dinner, Di. Nothing is going to happen.” Peter looked at her, his face open, like he really believed his words.
“Really, Peter?” She stopped at his desk. “You really think you can sit through dinner with that man – who you marked on his way out the door, by the way – and nothing will happen?”
Peter was silent. Diana sighed and took pity on him. Putting her hand on his arm, she squeezed it gently. “Boss, I understand why you’re attracted to him. Just be careful, okay?”
“I’m not sure I can, Di.” Peter’s voice was quiet. “He’s….” He motioned helplessly to her. “I don’t know.”
And that was the problem. Neal Caffrey was an unknown variable and that never played out well in Diana’s experience. She decided she would err on the side of caution and watch Peter’s back. In the meantime…
“So, what do you plan to wear tonight?” she asked her boss.
Peter laughed as he picked up a file. “Honestly? I have no idea…”
The wind ruffled Neal’s hair as he climbed out of the cab. It was peaceful - the few sounds were of the traffic in the distance. His feet sunk slightly into the grass as he walked amongst the gravestones. He stopped in front of a simple marker – no embellishments, just granite with Julia Caffrey Bennett etched in the stone and 1959-1988 underneath it.
He knelt down and placed a bouquet of mixed flowers at the base of the grave. “Hi, mom.”
Neal took a deep breath and began to speak. “I got a job today, mom. I’m now the designer for The Dragon’s Hoard.” He chuckled. “You’d love it. Their jewelry is magnificent.”
A bird flew by, trilling for its mate.
“They want me for my dragons. Peter Burke, the owner, saw a sketch and wanted to hire me on the spot.” Neal smiled. “I took a page from your book, though, and didn’t say yes right away.”
Neal remembered when he was about eight and Billy, the neighbor boy, wanted to trade him for his bike. His mom said to wait until he saw what Billy was offering before he let him take it. Which was a good thing because Billy’s bike was stolen from the bully two streets away and Neal would have gotten into a lot of trouble.
“I went to the store today and they showed me where I would be working. Peter and his assistant Diana gave me the tour.”
Neal ran a hand through his hair and laughed in disbelief. “Mom, you would be amazed. They’re going to set me up with brand new equipment and I get to make stuff that I don’t necessarily have to sell through the store. Peter said…” He trailed off as he thought of the man who hired him.
“Peter said that whatever I needed they would get for me. They have the best stones, mom. Peter showed me their vault downstairs. It’s like a dragon’s treasure. And Peter? He’s like the dragon that watches over all of it.”
Neal fell silent, thinking about how to describe Peter to his mother. “He’s handsome, mom. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, great smile.” He ran his hand over his mother’s stone. “He reminds me of the stories you used to tell me, mom. About the dragons? If I had to create a dragon it would be Peter.”
Neal laughed at himself. “Yeah, if you were here you’d say I had a crush on him. And you’re probably right. He’s definitely different. But I’ll be careful, I promise.”
Neal pressed a kiss on his fingers and placed it on the top of the gravestone. “I miss you, mom, so much,” he whispered, a tear running down his face. “I’ve gotta go, the cab’s waiting. I’ll be back soon.”
He turned quickly and headed to the vehicle, not seeing the man watching him from a distance.
He was just about to get into the cab when he heard a voice.
“Neal? Neal Bennett?”
Bennett? No one had called him that since before his mother died. Instinctively, he looked up to see a man standing in front of him, backlit by the sunshine. Squinting to get a better look, Neal didn’t recognize him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person.” Whether he did or not, something told Neal to be cautious. He was, after all, practically alone in a cemetery.
“That’s right, you’re Neal Caffrey now. Julia changed your name after James died.”
Neal tensed. Very few people knew that his mom had changed their last name after his father had been killed. “How do you know that?”
“Your dad and I were partners on the force together. I was with him when he was murdered. I’m Sam.” The man moved out of the sun and Neal could see his face. Wide and pleasant, his deep blue eyes were highlighted by a lock of grey hair that had fallen on his forehead. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
The man – Sam – gave him a small smile. “I stopped by to visit James.” He gestured to the grave next to Neal’s mother’s. As simple as hers, it just had James Bennett and the dates. “This is the first time I’d seen someone at their graves, and when I realized who you were I wanted to talk to you.”
“Why?” Neal had never heard of this man before. His father had died when he was three and his mother never really spoke about him or any part of her life before then. When Neal had asked, she shut down and he learned not to bring it up.
“Because I wanted to see you again. And because I promised your father that I would look after you.”
“See me again?” Neal’s felt like his brain was shutting down and all he could do was repeat what Sam was saying.
Sam chuckled. “The last time I actually saw you, you were about three I think, and you were playing with your dad’s police hat.”
Neal dimly recalled that, but he wasn’t sure if it was a real memory or if it was from the picture he’d found in his mom’s things after she died.
“Your dad and I were really close. Partners usually are. He had me promise that I would watch over you and your mom if anything ever happened to him.”
Neal watched Sam as he spoke, looking for any sort of deception. If that were the case, why had he never seen this person before? Those thoughts translated to words. “Why should I believe you? As far as I know, I’ve never seen you before today. If my father wanted you to look after us, where have you been?”
Sighing, Sam ran a hand through his hair. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a photo and handed it to Neal.
It was one of those early 1970s photographs that had faded with age, but Neal could see the people in it clearly. It was his father with his arm around Neal’s mother. Seated next to them was a very much younger Sam, beer bottle in hand and wide grin on his face. They all looked so happy. “How much do you remember about when your dad died?”
Neal combed through his memories of that time. There were bits and pieces of arguments, images of packing up their house and moving to a different place but nothing concrete. “Not much,” he admitted.
“It was a rough time. Your mom was a mess and blamed the Department for your dad’s death. She wanted nothing to do with the police or me.” He shrugged. “I respected her decision, but I kept tabs on you both. Just in case.” Sam laughed. “I was even able to sneak you some small presents. Remember that baseball glove you got when you were eight?”
Neal did. It was the highlight of his birthday that year. It had showed up on his doorstep – no return address, just Neal’s name. His mom almost wouldn’t let him keep it, but he begged until she’d relented. “That was you?”
“Yeah. I figured every boy needed a baseball glove.” Sheepishly, Sam grinned. “So…would you be interested in maybe going to get a beer? I’d really like to tell you about your dad.”
Neal considered the man in front of him. Here was a link to the father he’d never really known, a man his mother never spoke about. He smiled back at Sam.
“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
The sun sent rays of light through the glass doors of the balcony as Peter finished setting the dining room table. He’d debated on using his antique dishes but decided they would look like he was trying too hard.
Stepping back, he surveyed the table, satisfied with the look. Tuscan-style stoneware in a mix of amber and buttery yellow graced the creamy white linen tablecloth. Solid plain silverware offset the crystal glasses, giving the space a warm, welcoming look. He lit the low pillar candles on the mantle to add just a bit more atmosphere and went to check on the food in the kitchen.
The scents that greeted him as he entered the kitchen made his mouth water. Since the dinner was a spur of the moment decision, he’d called his favorite caterers and ordered the Chateaubriand with béarnaise sauce, chateau potatoes and roasted asparagus. All he had to do was keep it warm in the oven and serve.
He’d left work early when Diana threatened to eviscerate him with her spoon if he didn’t stop pacing. He chuckled dryly, remembering her comment. You are driving me nuts, Peter. For God’s sake, go upstairs and bake something!
She’d always teased him about his stress baking, but never turned down the results. This evening’s self-soothing item turned out to be a rustic raspberry and apricot tart. He checked to see if he still had some of the home-made vanilla bean ice cream from the mom and pop store around the corner – it would go well with the tart.
Pleased that all the dinner elements were ready, he took a quick shower and dressed for the evening. Black light wool pants, an off-white linen shirt and leather slip ons completed the outfit. Casual, yet classic. Peter patted on a bit of Terre d'Hermès, ran a comb through his hair and headed out of the bathroom. He convinced himself that he didn’t really check to see if the bed was suitably made because he had no plans to end up there this evening. None at all.
He checked his watch – six forty-five. Neal should be here any moment. A quick glance at his wine rack had him pulling out a 1983 St. Estèphe to serve with the meal. Cognac would come later if they felt like having some with dessert.
The building intercom buzzed. Bottle in hand, Peter toggled the switch. “This is Burke.”
“Good evening, Mr. Burke. Your guest is here.” Rico’s voice sounded tinny through the speaker. Peter made a mental note to upgrade the system.
“Thanks, Rico. Send him up.” Peter unlocked the front door and pulled it open slightly. That way Neal could come in without having to wait. Setting the wine on the table, he hurried into the kitchen to grab the wine opener. Returning to the main room, he set the opener on the table.
“Hello?” Neal’s voice was hesitant. Peter glanced over and saw him silhouetted in the doorway.
“C’mon in. Just finishing up.” Peter’s pulse raced at the fact that Neal was in his apartment. It was like every nerve ending was on overdrive as soon as he heard Neal’s voice. Taking a deep breath, he turned to greet the other man.
Peter’s mouth dried up and his cock stirred as Neal smiled and walked towards him, the rays from the windows streaking his brown hair with hints of gold. Neal was dressed casually – his silk shirt a deep emerald green, black jeans clinging to his thighs and hips. Peter wanted to skip dinner, peel those jeans off and lick him all over.
Neal held up a bottle of wine. “I didn’t know what we were having for dinner so I brought a Malbec. I hope that’s okay.” He smiled.
“What?” Peter realized suddenly that he was staring. “Oh, yeah. That’s perfect. We’re having Chateaubriand.” He took the wine and prayed that his hands were not shaking too obviously as he set it on the table next to the other bottle. “Um, sit.” He gestured to the couch. “I just need to check on the meal.” He hurried toward the kitchen.
“Do you need any help?” Neal was right behind him, smelling of woods and rain and sin. Peter needed to adjust himself if he was going to make it through the meal, but having Neal right there was not giving him the opportunity.
“Why don’t you open the wine.” Please, God stay in the main room and open the wine, he thought.
“Any preference?” Neal moved over to the table, giving Peter some breathing room. He gulped in some air, trying to cleanse Neal from his nostrils in hopes that his erection would die down even the least little bit.
“No. We’ll probably wind up drinking both bottles.” The first thing Peter did when he entered the kitchen was run his hands under the cold water from the sink. Then he thought about anything and everything he could to get his cock to stop standing at attention. It seemed to work – he could walk somewhat normally now.
He busied himself with slicing and placing the tenderloin on the platter, surrounding it with the potatoes and asparagus. Neal had poured the wine already and Peter placed the platter in the middle of the table.
“Peter, this looks delicious,” Neal commented once they had seated themselves.
“I can’t take credit for it,” Peter said with a wry grin. “I called the catering company we use for events and ordered it because I knew I wouldn’t have time to cook a full meal today.” He motioned for Neal to hold out his plate so Peter could serve him. “But the dessert is all mine. Raspberry and apricot tart with vanilla bean ice cream.”
“Stress bake, actually,” he confessed with a blush. “Helps relax me.”
“Why were you stressed?” Neal’s eyes were questioning.
Peter hesitated, considering his words. The truth was that Neal affected him in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge and he was walking on the razor’s edge of control. Telling Neal that would be the absolute wrong thing to do. “Just nervous that you might reconsider our agreement.”
“I think it’s safe to say that I’m not going to back out.” Neal grinned. “Your offer is way too tempting to pass up.”
“Good. Good.” Peter smiled to himself. He filled his plate with meat and vegetables. Lifting his glass, he said, “To a satisfying and successful partnership.”
“Salut,” Neal replied, clinking glasses. “I can’t wait to try this food.” He took a bite of the tenderloin and moaned in appreciation. “This is fabulous.”
“Glad you like it.” Peter was thrilled that Neal was enjoying the meal and he was almost successful in banishing the little voice inside that was contemplating how to get Neal to make that sound again. Without the food.
The evening passed swiftly, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine. They argued over baseball and art and politics. Peter was captivated by Neal – his hands, his smile, his intelligence. Neal gave as good as he got, launching into a spirited discussion on why Montgomery Clift was one of the foremost actors of his time.
Before Peter knew it, it was nearing ten o’clock. They’d made a dent in the tart which Neal swore was like eating a slice of heaven, and Peter was clearing the dinner dishes to the kitchen. He’d stacked them for later, not wanting to waste time with housekeeping.
Returning to the main room, he saw Neal standing at the balcony doors, looking out at the heat lightning that was signaling a possible summer storm.
“It’s beautiful out tonight.” The younger man turned his head, his face half in shadow. “The lightning? When I was little, my mother used to tell me that it was dragons riding on the clouds.”
Mesmerized by Neal’s voice, Peter leaned in to scent him, cock stirring against his pants. He stepped closer, wanting to touch Neal, fighting himself not to. There was another flash of lightning and a distant roll of thunder. The lights in Peter’s apartment flickered and dimmed.
“What else did she say about dragons?” Peter’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
“That if I were lucky, I’d ride one of my own.”
With a growl, Peter lunged forward, spinning Neal around and shoving him up against the glass. He slammed his lips against Neal’s, demanding entrance. Neal moaned as Peter plundered his mouth, tongue frantic to taste every inch. The wine, the dessert, Neal - the flavors thrilled his senses “God, you taste so good…” he muttered.
“Peter…” Neal’s voice brought him back to reality. With a start, Peter realized what he was doing. Immediately he released Neal, backing away. “Oh, God! I’m sorry.” Shit! He’d fucked everything up.
“No, Peter.” Neal’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. He looked at the other man, hair disheveled from where Peter had run his hands through it. His eyes were dark, his breathing ragged. His arousal was rolling off him in waves, calling to Peter’s dragon.
Neal wanted him. He hadn’t screwed up.
Peter crowded Neal back against the glass, but this time the other man took control, yanking Peter’s head down, with a breathy, “Oh, God, yes,” before slanting their mouths together.
Peter caged Neal in between his arms, reveling in the press of the other man’s body against his. They slotted together perfectly, thighs aligned, cocks teasing each other to hardness. Neal’s erection was a solid, large weight against Peter’s leg. He wanted to strip Neal down and see it, ready and aching for him. Peter groaned at the image.
“Fuck, Neal,” Peter muttered against Neal’s lips. “Want you. Wanted you since I saw you yesterday.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Neal’s hands started unbuttoning Peter’s shirt. “Wanted you, too.”
Peter helped him, pulling his shirt out of his pants. He started with Neal’s buttons but got frustrated. “I’ll buy you another shirt,” as he tore it open, buttons flying in all directions. He bunched it up and tossed it in the corner. “Oh FUCK!” Peter’s mouth dried up as he gazed at Neal’s chest.
Neal was pierced. With dragons.
The nipple rings glinted in the light. White gold, they were dragons in a mating flight, their bodies intertwined, tails piercing Neal’s skin. The larger one had chocolate diamonds for eyes, while the smaller one’s eyes were a clear aquamarine. Peter’s breath caught as they moved against Neal’s body, appearing alive. He reached out a hand to touch, but paused.
“Can I..?” Neal nodded, eyes dark. Peter ran his thumb across them, causing Neal’s nipple to harden into tight peaks.
Neal’s breath hitched. He grabbed Peter’s fingers, using them to pinch his nipple. “Harder, God, please.” Peter watched Neal’s body shudder as he tugged on the rings, squeezing Neal’s nipple until he whimpered, hips rubbing against Peter’s body.
Peter bent his head and took Neal’s nipple into his mouth, tugging with his teeth, sucking and biting, flipping the ring with his tongue until the nub was blood red. He did the same with the other, matching them up perfectly.
Neal’s response was almost his undoing. Whimpering and moaning, he caressed Peter’s head, begging him to suck harder, to bite down, telling him how good it felt. Peter’s cock was rock hard, tenting his pants.
He willed his erection to calm a bit as he let go of Neal’s nipples and kissed up his chest to his neck. Neal writhed against Peter, grinding their dicks together. “God, Peter, so good.”
Grabbing his ass, Peter hauled Neal up and wrapped his legs around his waist. Half a dozen steps and Neal was on the edge of the dining room table. “Too many clothes,” Peter growled, making quick work of Neal’s belt and popping open the button fly of his jeans. “I need you naked.”
Neal’s head fell back as he thrust his hips into Peter’s hands. “Yeah, want your hands on me.” Peter heard shoes hit the floor and grinned. He wrestled Neal’s jeans off and tossed them aside. Pressing him down so Neal was resting on his elbows, he allowed himself to really look for the first time that evening.
Neal was exquisite. A sheen of sweat made his skin glisten, nipple rings reflecting the light. Silk underwear cradled his hard cock, the tip peaking out slightly, outlining it for Peter’s gaze. Peter licked his lips – he wanted that cock in his mouth, wanted to make Neal fall apart.
Looking up at Neal’s face, he saw him smirk. “Like what you see?” Neal asked, before stretching out further on the table and widening his thighs.
Oh my God - the little shit was posing! Accepting the challenge, Peter lunged in, trapping Neal partially under his body. “You wanna play like that?” Peter thrust against him, circling his hips as he licked a stripe up Neal’s neck. “Be careful what you wish for, Neal.”
Moving back, he held Neal down on the table with one hand, pulling Neal’s underwear off with the other. Neal’s cock bounced back against his stomach, flushed, wet and throbbing. Without stopping, Peter wrapped his lips around Neal’s erection, sucking the head into his mouth, playing with Neal’s balls.
“FUCK!” Neal shouted, trying to arch up. Peter held him down, not allowing any movement as he scraped Neal’s shaft with his teeth. Tonguing his slit, Peter let the moisture from his mouth coat his fingers before skating them down behind Neal’s balls and circling his hole.
Teasing a fingertip in, just so, he played with Neal’s ass, thrilled to feel him shudder, unable to rock his hips, helpless as Peter took his time, ratcheting up Neal’s arousal.
Neal was sobbing, begging him to let him come, cursing him for a bastard, legs splayed, hands desperately seeking for something to clutch on to.
With one last swirl of his tongue around the head of Neal’s cock, Peter pulled off. Seeing Neal completely wrecked, he chuckled low and dirty. “The only way you’re going to come tonight is when I fuck you through the mattress.”
In a swift move, he grabbed Neal, flipping him over his shoulder as he stalked into his bedroom. Tossing him onto the bed, Peter gave Neal his own smirk as he quickly undressed.
“Holy Fuck, Peter!” Neal was looking at his cock, mouth open. He knew he was larger than most, but the awe in Neal’s eyes made him preen just a bit.
Crawling onto the bed, he began kissing up Neal’s chest, stopping to enjoy Neal’s whimpers as he played with those gorgeous nipple rings again. “Love these, love the sounds you make when I pull on them…”
“Oh god, Peter…like that…” Neal’s back arched, lining their dicks up. Circling his hips again, Peter created the right friction that shot electrical pulses throughout his body. He knew Neal was feeling the same when he wrapped his legs around Peter and pulled him in tighter. He nibbled on Neal’s earlobe and whispered in a guttural voice, “I want to be inside you…wanna open you up with my fingers…get you ready to take my cock…can I do that Neal?“
Neal moaned. “Yes, God yes!”
“Don’t move.” Peter sat up and rummaged in the nightstand for a condom and lube. Looking at Neal, flushed and needy, his for the taking, he couldn’t help himself. “God you’re beautiful.” He reached down and caressed Neal’s cheek, his lips, before running his hand down Neal’s body.
Flipping the cap, Peter poured slick onto his fingers and reached down to Neal’s hole. “Spread your legs more, I want to see this.” Slowly he guided one finger inside, then two, scissoring them slightly.
Neal hissed, but quickly said, “Don’t stop, feels good.” Peter crooked his fingers, gliding across Neal’s prostate, listening to him gasp in pleasure.
In and out, Neal’s whimpers of pleasure and “...there...right there…” and Peter’s “so beautiful for me like this…” the only sounds in the room.
Peter slid a third finger in next to the first two, stretching the muscles, getting Neal ready to take him. His cock was straining, hard and weeping. He wanted to be inside Neal now.
“Peter…” Neal’s voice was hoarse. “Now, need you now.” The condom was unwrapped and in his hand. Peter canted his hips, groaning quietly as Neal rolled it down onto his erection.
He met Neal’s eyes. “Ready?” he asked.
“Past.” Neal wrapped his hands around his thighs and opened himself up more, offering himself to Peter.
Peter lined himself up and pushed slowly in, stopping when Neal tensed, then moving again until he was seated completely inside. Neal was hot and tight, muscles fluttering around his cock. The sensation was incredible. He bent over Neal and kissed him, rocking his hips, stretching Neal around his girth.
“So full…” Neal moaned. “Feels so good.”
They moved in tandem, Peter pulling out to the edge, then thrusting back in as Neal met him, his legs wrapped around him, coaxing Peter in deeper with every stroke. Peter keeping Neal just this side of coming.
He could stay like this forever. Neal underneath him, begging softly, brokenly to fuck him harder.
“Please, Peter…wanna come…” Neal’s eyes were dark, pleading as he bucked his hips.
“Remember when I promised you’d the only way you’d come is by me fucking you through the mattress?” Neal nodded frantically. Peter smiled and shifted, hooking Neal’s legs over his shoulders. He sped up his strokes, hitting Neal’s prostate with every thrust. “C’mon, Neal…wanna hear you scream.”
“Oh god…Peter...fuck.” Peter felt Neal’s orgasm, his muscles clenching around Peter’s cock as he came. Peter pounded into him like a jackhammer, reveling in Neal’s moans, his come filling the condom as he blacked out for a split second.
Slowing down, he milked the last vestiges of his orgasm out of his spent cock, hands on either side of Neal’s head. Completely lethargic, he collapsed onto Neal and buried his face in his neck. “Fuck, that was fantastic.”
“Yeah…” Neal sounded completely sated.
They lay there for a moment before Peter carefully pulled out and disposed of the condom. Kissing Neal, he headed to the bathroom for a damp washcloth. When he returned, he found Neal asleep, sprawled out on his back, his belly sticky with semen. It was the most gorgeous sight Peter had ever seen.
Chuckling, he wiped Neal down and managed to pull the covers out from under him. Crawling in behind him, Peter tucked him under his chin. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep to soft sounds of Neal’s breathing and the scent of the two of them on his skin.
The first thing Neal was aware of when he woke up was the difference in the bed. This one was bigger and softer than his. The next thing was the delicious ache of being well fucked. He stretched, feeling the burn of his muscles, his ass, the twinge deep inside. Peter was definitely -.
Fuck. Neal sat up, his gut churning. He’d slept with Peter Burke. His boss. Before he’d even started his new job. He was so screwed. He realized Peter was not in the room and he was alone.
Neal shifted to the side of the bed and put his head in his hands. He could have, should have said no. But Peter was just so overwhelming he made Neal dizzy.
Neal had almost come in his pants when he had entered the apartment and seen Peter dressed in his black pants and white linen shirt. He’d wanted to nibble down his jaw and worship the mole at the base of Peter’s throat. Neal’s dick stirred again just thinking about it.
Then Peter had to go and throw a curveball by acting almost shy and uncertain. A far cry from his attitude this morning at the store. Peter’s sheepish grin when they discussed the dessert had Neal wanting to reassure him that everything was going to be fine.
Dinner was fascinating. Neal could have listened to Peter read the phone book, he was that turned on by the man’s voice. And Peter was smart. Neal liked smart. Smart was sexy. And Peter had sexy down to a science.
Neal ran a hand through his hair, thinking about how they’d gone from cordial discussion over the Chateaubriand to the hottest sex Neal had ever had. He still couldn’t figure out how things had turned so quickly. One moment he was standing at the balcony doors, the next he was splayed out over the dining room table with his cock in Peter’s mouth.
He had to leave, had to get out and clear his head, to figure out what to say to Peter to not get fired. Because he didn’t think Peter was the type to sleep with his employees. Neal looked for his clothes, his stomach sinking when he remembered that they were strewn across the main room of Peter’s apartment.
Looking around the room, he saw the shirt Peter had worn at dinner. It would have to do. Slipping it on, he walked slowly out of the bedroom.
The main room was in shadows, the only light coming from the fire in the living room area. Drawn towards the light, Neal approached the couch to see Peter, glass in hand, staring at the flames.
He was naked.
The flickering light highlighted his skin, making it look like velvet fire until the shadows hid it away. Each muscle was defined, sinuous. Neal watched him sip from the glass, then rest it on his leg. He looked powerful, dangerous, limbs stretched out, cock half hard against his thigh. Neal wanted to climb in between Peter’s thighs and taste him. He closed his eyes on that fantasy, trying to will his own cock to behave.
He must have made some noise, some movement, because Peter raised his head, nose twitching as if he were testing the air. He put the glass down on the end table and spoke.
“Peter.” Neal didn’t know what else to say. He walked slowly over to where the other man was seated and looked down at him. Peter had a half smile on his face, which Neal took to be a good sign. Maybe he could salvage this after all.
“Damn, you look good in my shirt.”
Wait, what? That was the last thing Neal expected Peter to say. “What?”
“I said…” Peter leaned forward and slid his hand around Neal’s leg, bringing him into the vee of his body. “…that you look damn good in my shirt.” He ran the flat of his fingers lightly over Neal’s hips, up over his stomach to his nipples. Neal whimpered when he tugged on his rings. His nipples were still sore from Peter’s earlier attention. “But my guess is that you’d look damn good in anything of mine.” Peter stroked his hands across Neal’s asscheeks, urging him closer. He began kissing Neal’s hip and swirling his tongue into Neal’s belly button.
“Peter,” Neal began, but the other man made a shushing noise against Neal’s skin.
“Please don’t. This has nothing to do with your job.” Neal felt Peter nip his stomach with his teeth, then lave the sting away. “We’ll deal with that in the morning.”
“But you’re my boss. I don’t want…”
“Neal.” Peter leaned back and regarded him with an expression of fond exasperation. “I knew what I was doing this evening. Your job is not contingent on you sleeping with me. I wanted you – it was that simple.” He skated his hand across Neal’s balls, sending electrical pulses to Neal’s rapidly hardening cock. “Now, stop interrupting me while I try to seduce you again.”
Neal moaned, feeling the hot, wet suction of Peter’s mouth as he swirled his tongue in the slit of Neal’s dick before slowly closing his lips around the head. “Oh God, Peter!” Closing his eyes, he bucked his hips forward, trying to get more of himself into Peter’s mouth. Peter obliged, sliding his lips down Neal’s shaft, tonguing the vein on the bottom. His hands spread Neal’s asscheeks, letting his finger tease Neal’s hole.
Neal braced himself, hand on Peter’s shoulder as Peter scraped his teeth lightly up and down Neal’s cock. “Yeah…fuck…” He let out a breathy whimper as Peter played with his hole, promising but intentionally not delivering.
“Fuck, don’t play with me, Peter!” Neal gasped, pressing back onto Peter’s hand. Humming in amusement, Peter pushed against Neal’s rim. His finger slid in easily, Neal still open from earlier. “Right there!” Sparks exploded behind his eyelids when Peter grazed his prostate. “Again!”
Adding a second one, Peter fucked him with his fingers while he sucked Neal’s cock. Just like before, he tortured Neal with pressure and pace, bringing him to the edge, then backing off. Finally, Neal couldn’t take any more. “God, Peter, stop.”
Peter pulled off and looked at Neal, concern in his eyes. “You okay?” He slipped his fingers out of Neal.
“Yeah. I just want…” Neal paused, trying to regain his sanity.
“What do you want, Neal?”
“I want to taste you.”
Peter’s eyes darkened. “I’m all yours.” Leaning back, he presented himself to Neal, a smile that was pure debauchery on his face. Running his fingers up his thigh, Peter framed his cock with his hand and nodded slightly, inviting Neal to do what he wanted. Neal licked his lips and slowly dropped to his knees, his eyes never leaving Peter’s.
He spread Peter’s thighs more, feeling the wiry hairs of the other man’s legs tickle his thumbs. Peter’s fingers caught on the side of Neal’s neck and pulled him gently towards him. Hoarsely he spoke. “God, Neal, so beautiful kneeling in front of me like that. Want to feel your mouth on me.”
Neal rubbed his face against Peter’s thigh, feeling the muscles bunch at his touch. He nosed along Peter’s cock, nostrils flaring, drinking in the scent that was pure Peter. Slipping his tongue out, he tasted the dark place between Peter’s thigh and balls, taking immense satisfaction in Peter’s hiss.
Leaning back, he looked up at Peter. Eyes lidded, he was staring at Neal with a lust-blown gaze. Glancing down, he saw Peter’s cock straining towards him, ruddy and thick, precome beginning to pearl along the slit.
He wanted this man’s cock in his mouth – wanted to taste it, wanted to feel it press against the back of his throat. But Peter was large – long and gloriously thick - and Neal knew it would be difficult to take all of him. “Hold it for me.” Offer yourself to me.
Peter wrapped his hand around the base of his erection, presenting it to Neal like a gift. Neal encircled Peter’s hand with both of his, squeezing, feeling the throb of blood as Peter filled even further. Dipping his head, he tongued Peter’s slit, the salty taste exploding over his taste buds. He slid his mouth down Peter’s cock and heard the man groan as he buried his nose into their joined hands.
Sliding up and down, he set a slow pace, worshiping Peter’s cock as he inched down further and further. Peter’s other hand fluttered around his temple, running through his hair, urging him to take him deeper into his throat.
Neal had no idea how much time had passed as he lost himself in the taste and feeling of Peter’s cock in his mouth. He felt the head of Peter’s dick finally hit the back of his throat. Humming, he swallowed the tip, massaging it with his throat muscles.
“Oh, fuck, Neal!” Peter’s body was vibrating and Neal knew he was trying not to shove up into Neal’s throat and hurt him. He hummed again, chuckling softly as he heard Peter curse. “You need to stop that or I’m going to come.”
Neal met Peter’s eyes, asking the question without words. “No, I want be fucking you when I come.”
Gently Neal pulled off, Peter’s dick bobbing, glistening with his saliva. His voice raspy, he asked, “How do you want me?”
“Your choice.” Legs splayed, Peter lightly stroked his cock, keeping it hard, on display for Neal, he was sure.
“Here, like this. I want to ride you.” Neal reveled in the hitch of Peter’s breath and the stutter of his stroke.
“God damn it, Neal, you’re going to kill me.” Peter looked down at him, and Neal swore his eyes started glowing.
Neal chuckled. Raising up, he pulled Peter’s head down for a deep kiss. Licking into his mouth, he murmured, “We wouldn’t want that to happen.”
“Mmhmm…” Peter grabbed the fabric of the shirt Neal was wearing and pulled him closer. “But if I have to go….”
“Yeah.” Neal lost himself in their kiss, Peter’s hands caressing him through the linen. “God, Peter, need you inside me.” Pulling back, he brought three fingers up to Peter’s mouth. Peter sucked them in, soaking them thoroughly with saliva, before letting them go with a ‘plop.’
Neal leaned back on his haunches. “Watch.”
He reached around himself and slowly pushed one finger, then two, inside. The stretch felt so good, especially knowing he was opening himself up for Peter’s cock.
“So fucking hot…” Peter groaned, licking his lips like he wanted to devour Neal. “Can you feel it? Stretching yourself for me?”
“Yeah.” Three fingers now, the burn delicious. Neal closed his eyes, head tilted back as he heard Peter whisper how good it was going to be, his cock fucking Neal’s ass, filling him up. He whimpered as he grazed his prostate, his dick bouncing as he thrust his fingers deeper inside himself.
Opening his eyes to half slits, he saw Peter working himself, licking his hand and sliding it up and down his dick. His gaze locked on Neal’s cock, he growled in frustration. “Neal, if you don’t come up here right now, it’s going to be all over.”
The authority in Peter’s voice sent thrills down Neal’s spine. Pulling his fingers out, he climbed up onto the couch and straddled Peter.
Peter’s cock nestled in his asscheeks, rubbing lightly over his hole as he claimed Peter’ mouth again. Neal whimpered as Peter thumbed his nipples. Gasping for air against Peter’s lips, he moaned, “Need you to fuck me now, Peter.” Neal broke their kiss. “Condom?”
“Fuck. In the bedroom.” Peter’s comment was not what Neal wanted to hear. He was so on the edge, the head of Peter’s dick nudging his ass, promising exquisite pleasure. Neal whined in frustration.
“Neal, do you trust me?”
“What?” Peter was asking him a question.
“I’m clean, do you trust me?” Peter cupped his face, his eyes dark with lust but also concern. “We can stop -.”
“No. I trust you.” As the words left his mouth, Neal knew they were true. He did trust Peter. “I’m clean too.”
“So it’s okay?”
“Fuck, Peter. More than okay.” Neal rocked back and forth, feeling Peter’s cock catch the rim of his hole. “Need you, now. God please.”
“Okay.” Peter licked his fingers, coating them with moisture before snaking around and teasing Neal’s hole. Neal felt him steady his dick, lining it up with Neal’s pucker.
Neal raised up and positioned himself over Peter’s cock. Slowly he sank down, the head of Peter’s dick meeting resistance then popping through.
Ohmygodohmygod! Neal had never gone bareback with any of his lovers before. The heat, the throbbing, the closeness as Peter slid inside him, filling him up was like nothing he’d ever experienced.
“Oh, god.” Helpless at the sensations coursing through him, he fell against Peter’s chest as the man bottomed out, his balls nestling against Neal’s ass. Peter felt huge, pushing against Neal’ walls, stretching him even more than when they’d fucked earlier.
Peter chuckled. “You okay?”
“Yeah, give me a minute.” Breathing deeply, he sat up, managing to seat Peter even deeper inside him. “Fuck, you feel fantastic.”
“You do, too.” Peter thrust up hitting Neal’s prostate. “So damn tight.”
Neal raised up then slid down, over and over, waves of pleasure coursing through him. Peter moved in symphony with him, pushing deep, hitting his prostate with every thrust. His hands roamed Neal’s body, playing with his piercings, pinching his nipples, caressing his ass, blunt fingers touching where they were joined.
Peter’s lips pressed kisses to his face, his teeth nipped his shoulders and neck, sucking bruises into his skin that would darken by morning. He whispered how beautiful Neal was, how perfect he felt in his lap, how tight Neal was around his cock, how he couldn’t wait to see him come.
It was all over as soon as Peter wrapped his hand around Neal’s cock, jacking it in time to his thrusts. Neal’s orgasm spiraled up from his toes, his balls tight and aching. With a shout, Neal shot hot ropes of semen over Peter’s hand, their stomachs, his cock. Dimly, he heard Peter’s answering keen as he felt him stiffen, spilling hot and wet deep inside, marking Neal in a way he’d never been before.
Neal collapsed against Peter, the last remnants of his orgasm making his body feel boneless. His eyes closed, he felt Peter’s heart beat against his chest, slowing as Peter came down from his release. Neal didn’t move, needing to keep Peter’s softening cock inside him for as long as possible.
Neal had no words for what just happened. He’d never felt anything like that before – physically or otherwise. Peter had taken him to a place he never even imagined. The closest he could come to was when he was younger and wished he could catch a dragon and soar the skies on its back. Sleepily, he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Peter’s voice was amused.
“Just wondering what it would be like to ride a dragon.” Neal’s eyes closed as he fell into slumber.
He never heard Peter’s laugh or feel him kiss his temple as he murmured, "You just did."