Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter, hints of P/E/N
Word Count: 2945
Summary: There’s nothing like a good tux…
A/N – Written for Caffrey-Burke Day 2014. Inspired by Eric Clapton’s song, “Wonderful Tonight”.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got caught up, bought up, strangled, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
The bluesy sounds of Eric Clapton wafted through the bathroom, giving Peter Burke a soundtrack to his preparations for the evening’s event. They were headed to the annual commendation dinner where he was presenting Jones with a special recognition. He turned on the shower, setting the temperature to almost boiling and stepped under the spray. Peter sighed in pleasure, thanking the renovation gods that they’d decided to upgrade the plumbing last year. The multiple shower-heads sent water pulsing against his sore muscles, soothing the aches from the day’s stress.
The song switched to “After Midnight” and Peter found himself humming along as he reached for his shampoo. Turning it over, he squeezed the bottle, only to find out it was empty when it made that obnoxious farting sound. Grimacing, he put it down and picked up Neal’s bottle. It was some sort of specialty concoction that Neal ordered online and guarded jealously. But it was either that or Elizabeth’s orange vanilla spice. At least Neal’s smelled more manly.
Quickly washing his hair, Peter rinsed, the suds cascading down his chest. He turned on his waterproof shaver, using the humidity in the shower to get a close shave. He chuckled to himself, thinking of the joy in Neal’s eyes when he presented Peter with the gadget, making a comment about ‘no more beard burn in sensitive places.’
Neal. His life had revolved around the man for more than fifteen years now. First the chase, then the anklet, then the declaration of love when Peter had been shot during the Pederson mortgage fraud case that turned out to be a front for money laundering. He still remembered Neal’s frantic pleas, telling him he couldn’t die before Neal told him he loved him. Then the six weeks of rehab and recuperation before either one could act on those words.
Peter’s cock stiffened as he replayed that night. Elizabeth requesting with a smile that they try not to destroy the furniture before kissing the both of them and heading out to an overnight at Dana’s. Neal’s usual bravado absent, leaving him open and uncertain. Peter gently cupping his face, their first kiss like coming home. Then finally, Neal under him, spread out, wanting, as Peter pushed slowly inside.
Peter shook his head, smiling. He needed to get himself under control or else they would never make it out the door this evening. Turning the cold water up, he calmed himself and finished his ablutions. He stepped out of the shower, turning it off before wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing one to towel his hair.
A billow of steam followed him as he headed to the bedroom to dress. Laid out on the bed was a bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo that Neal insisted on purchasing for him. Peter wasn’t really into the couture – he was perfectly happy with his classic Brooks Brother’s suits – but he had to admit, the Tom Ford felt right on his body. And the look on Neal’s face when he saw Peter in it was completely worth it.
Neal had been in the middle of charming the staff when Peter stepped out of the fitting space. He had stopped mid-sentence and Peter saw his eyes widen. Neal had licked his lips, approached Peter and circled him like a jaguar with its prey.
“You like?” Peter had asked him with a grin, knowing full well what the answer would be.
Neal had leaned in, his mouth close to Peter’s ear and murmured, “You know I do. So much that we need to get out of here before I bend you over that couch and fuck you. Because…” and Neal kissed his ear. “…I do want to be able to come back here.”
Peter dimly remembered throwing his wallet at Neal to pay for the tux while he quickly changed. The drive home was spent with Neal’s hand caressing his inner thigh, whispering how he wanted to fill Peter with his cock, while Peter tried very hard not to crash the car. They got home and tumbled through the front door to find Elizabeth and Yvonne at the dining room table, computers and files spread out in front of them.
Twenty minutes and one very understanding administrative assistant later, Neal had him pinned up against the wall in their bedroom, fingers stretching his hole, while Elizabeth was directing from the chair in the corner. It was hot and sweaty and delicious - Neal fucking him from behind, Peter making Elizabeth moan as he thrust his tongue and fingers into her pussy.
Smiling, Peter fished out a pair of black ManSilk boxer briefs that he knew Neal liked and tossed them on the bed. The commendation dinner may be long and boring, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease Neal. His lover had a thing for this brand of underwear and Neal could barely keep his hands off Peter if he knew he was wearing them. All it would take would be one whisper in Neal’s ear about his undergarments and Neal would be twisting in his seat, cock hard for the entire evening.
Come on, baby don't you want to go
To the same old place, sweet home Chicago.
The strains of ‘Sweet Home Chicago’ had Peter’s hips twitching as he grabbed an undershirt and socks and tossed them on the bed. “Now two and two is four, six and two is eight, come on baby, don't you make me late,” Peter sang as he shimmied over to the closet to get his Ferregamos.
“Hidee hey, baby, don't you want to go? Back to the same old place, sweet home Chicago.” Neal’s voice stopped him short. Whirling around, he saw Neal leaning against the doorjab, arms crossed, smiling. Neal was already dressed in his own custom Tom Ford, complete with vest. He looked fantastic.
“How long have you been standing there?” Peter blushed, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.
“Since you got out of the bathroom.” Neal uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off the edge of the doorframe. “I must say, the view has been excellent.” He trailed his hand across the top of Peter’s towel, dipping his fingers underneath the terrycloth to touch Peter’s skin. “I never knew you were such an exhibitionist.” Wrapping his hand around the towel, he slowly pulled it off, leaving Peter naked in front of him.
“Neal!” Peter grabbed for the towel but Neal held it out of his reach.
“Nope, wanna watch.” Neal sat down in the chair and crossed his legs.
“You want to watch me stand here naked?” Peter laughed and posed for him.
“No, I want to watch you dress.”
Neal sat back in his chair and observed the man in front of him. Peter was gloriously naked, legs parted, fists on his hips, his cock nestled in trimmed dark hair, smirk on his face. Neal didn’t always get to see him like this. Despite them being lovers for almost ten years, Peter still kept a good degree of modesty and usually didn’t parade around naked.
So Neal was going to take advantage of the situation. “Turn.” He spun his finger in a circle.
“Wait, you’re serious?” Peter gaped at him in disbelief.
“You bet.” Neal smiled. “We have some time and I’m going to enjoy this.” He gestured with his hand again. “Slowly.”
Peter did as Neal asked. Neal’s mouth watered as he admired the taut biceps, the cut of Peter’s hip, the curve of his ass as it came into view. Peter always swore that Neal had the perfect ass, but in Neal’s opinion it was Peter’s ass that was perfect. Round, firm, but most of all – Neal’s.
The day that Peter let Neal top for the first time….
Neal felt his cock twitch at the memory. Peter, naked and nervous but trusting Neal. Neal opening him up, slowly, listening to Peter beg as he stretched him. The heat of Peter’s muscles pulling him in, his eyes wide and his mouth in an ‘Oh’ as Neal thrust in and out. The joy of knowing that Peter had never given this to anyone else.
“Neal, if I’m going to do this, you need to pay attention.” Peter’s voice held amused exasperation.
“Sorry, sorry. Was just thinking about your ass.” Neal felt himself blush.
“No reason to imagine when it’s right in front of you.” Peter wiggled, making his asscheeks shake, then burst into laughter. “Okay, I can’t do this.” Peter stalked over to the chair and Neal found himself caged in by his arms as Peter kissed him. “I have to get dressed or we will never make it to the dinner.”
“Let me help, then.” Neal held out a hand. “Give me your underwear.” He waited until Peter handed him the briefs. Bending over, he placed the underwear down so Peter could step into them. The hand Peter braced on his shoulder for balance felt warm and solid. Slowly Neal pulled up the briefs, gliding them over Peter’s ass and hips. He settled them on Peter’s body, lightly nipping his stomach as he straightened out the waistband.
“Gorgeous…” he breathed, adjusting Peter’s cock to fit perfectly into the pouch. Neal pressed a kiss to the cloth covered head before nuzzling Peter’s dick. Peter moaned quietly and gently thrust his hips. “God, Peter - I may not make it through dinner knowing that you have these on.”
He looked up at Peter, eyes shining with love for this man. Peter returned his gaze, his brown eyes darkening with want as he caressed Neal’s face. Neal leaned in to the touch, needing to feel Peter’s hand on his skin.
“Socks next.” Neal kept his voice low, not wanting to break the spell they had created.
Peter stepped over to the bed and picked up the pair of black silk socks. He handed them to Neal with a raised eyebrow.
“Give me your foot.” He bunched up the sock and guided it over Peter’s toes, intentionally widening his legs so Peter’s foot brushed against his erection as he pulled the sock over Peter’s calf. Peter reciprocated with a low chuckle, massaging his balls with his toes, sending arousal through Neal’s body. “Yeah…feels good…”
Peter pulled away, causing Neal to whimper at the loss of contact. “Dinner, Neal. Remember?”
“Yeah.” He knew he sounded disappointed. “Other foot.” Neal waited for Peter to raise his leg and pulled on the sock, this time leaning in and running his tongue in the crook of Peter’s knee in retaliation.
Peter hissed. “Not nice, Neal.”
“Never said I was nice, Peter.” Neal stood up and walked to the bed. Taking the pants off of the hanger, he knelt in front of Peter and positioned the trouser legs for Peter to step into.
Peter carefully placed his feet in the pants and Neal slowly pulled them up, running his thumbs along Peter’s thighs as he stood. The corded muscles in Peter’s legs tightened as Neal’s fingers moved closer to Peter’s cock. Neal loved the strength in those legs. Strength that had held him up against the wall of his art studio as Peter pounded into him. Strength that had carried Neal out of the collapsed warehouse when a bomb detonated too early. Strength that had supported him when Mozzie was in critical condition after a con that went sideways.
Neal settled the pants on Peter’s waist, leaving them open as he picked up Peter’s undershirt. “Bend down.” He eased the shirt over Peter’s head, snaking it down over Peter’s chest. Grinning, he tweaked Peter’s nipple, laughing as Peter slapped his hand away.
“C’mon, you know I love them.” Neal caressed the other, watching it harden to a nub before pulling down the undershirt.
“And I love that you love them.” Peter leaned in and kissed Neal. “And if we had more time….”
“I know, I know. Give me your shirt.” Neal helped Peter slip into the arms of the Thomas Pink. Walking over to the dresser he picked up Peter’s black shirt studs. Slowly he took each one and pressed them through the buttonholes. “Have I ever told you how fantastic you look in a tux?” he murmured as his fingers slid in between the fabric. “When we took down O’Leary, I could barely keep my hands off you.”
Peter laughed softly. “That would have been extremely awkward.”
“I know.” Neal nudged Peter’s chin up so he could button the top button. Caressing his jaw, he wrapped his hand around the back of Peter’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “When we argued and you put your hands on me – God Peter – all I wanted to do was get down on my knees and beg for your cock. I didn’t care who was in the room.”
Neal kissed the corner of Peter’s mouth, coaxing their tongues together. He ran his hands down Peter’s sides, tucking in his shirttails as he stroked his ass, his hips, lining up the shirt just so. He heard Peter moan as he buttoned his pants, slowly drawing the zipper up and over Peter’s erection. He cupped Peter’s balls for just a moment before stepping away.
Peter was flushed, eyes never leaving his. Neal took one wrist and guided him over to the dresser. Picking up one of the antique FBI badge cuffinks he’d bought Peter for Christmas, he threaded it through the holes in the cuff. Folding the toggle, he tugged on the sleeve before bringing Peter’s wrist up to his mouth for a kiss. He repeated his ritual with the other cuff.
“Suspenders or belt?” Neal asked. He hoped Peter would say suspenders. They were as close as he could get to Peter’s shoulder holster and he had such a kink for that bit of hardware.
“Suspenders.” Peter leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Only because the shoulder holster ruins the cut. Plus, if you’re lucky, I’ll tie you up with them when we get back home.”
Neal whimpered, eyes closed as he tried to get himself under control. Peter knew exactly what buttons to push to send his cock thrumming. It was one of the things he loved about the man.
He felt Peter place the suspenders in his hands. Opening his eyes, he watched Peter turn around so he could fasten the back buttons first. Dipping his fingers into the waistband for leverage, Neal hooked the buttons and flipped the silk fabric over Peter’s shoulders. The front buttons were as easily fastened as the back. Neal ran his hand over them, imagining Peter using them to restrain him and shivered. He had no idea if he was going to make it through the evening without at least one trip to the men’s room for some relief. “Peter…”
“I need to put on my shoes, Neal.” Peter’s smile was just this side of wicked. Instead of sitting down, he slipped on the Ferrgamos and propped one foot up on the bed with his back facing Neal. Bending slightly to tie the laces, the wool fabric stretched tightly over his ass.
“Fuck, Peter…” Neal couldn’t help himself. Moving in behind Peter he nestled his cock in the cleft of Peter’s ass, rocking gently back and forth so as to not make Peter lose his balance. “Do we really have to go?” he whined.
“Yes.” Peter shifted from one leg to the other, rubbing Neal’s erection in a delicious way. “Jones would be very disappointed if we didn’t show.”
“Jones owes me big time,” Neal muttered.
“I’ll make sure to let him know.” Picking up a black ribbon of fabric, he turned to Neal. “Will you do me the honor of tying my tie?” Peter’s voice had that low pitch that sent utter want down Neal’s spine.
“My pleasure,” Neal said hoarsely as he positioned them in front of the Queen Anne mirror.
They stood in front of the glass, Peter still and pliant, moving his head as Neal flipped up the collar and skillfully tied a classic bow tie. Neal reached for the tux jacket and helped Peter put it on, smoothing out the shoulders.
He paused and looked at Peter in the mirror. “I love you,” he said softly. “You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen.” Peter blushed, then started chuckling. ‘What’s funny?”
“Do you hear the song that’s playing?” Peter nodded to the iPod that was still in the bathroom. Neal listened, breaking out into a huge grin when he heard the melody.
Softly he sang, tweaking the words jut a little bit. “We go to a party and everyone turns to see…this beautiful man that's walking around with me. And then he asks me, ‘Do you feel all right?’ And I say, ‘Yes, I feel wonderful tonight.’" He leaned into Peter and continued, “I feel wonderful because I see the love light in your eyes. And the wonder of it all. Is that you just don't realize how much I love you.”
Turning Peter around to face him, he began swaying to the music as he claimed Peter’s lips. The last notes of the song faded away as they gently broke apart.
Peter cupped his jaw and gave Neal another kiss. “C’mon. Time to go. Elizabeth is waiting.” Neal felt Peter take his hand and lead him out of the bedroom, turning off the light as they headed downstairs.