Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter, Mozzie, Jones, Diana, Cameos by Hughes and June
Word Count: This Part - 8017
Beta Credit: elrhiarhodan, firesign10
Summary: Archeologist Peter Burke has recently uncovered an amazing - and history changing - fresco on the walls of an ancient ruin on the Aegean island of Santorini. Neal, a prince from a long-hidden kingdom, spies Peter during a forbidden visit to the island. As their feelings grow, danger lurks, threatening both men's lives.
“His name is Peter Burke, he’s an archeologist and he’s working on the Akrotiri dig.”
Mozzie tossed a file to Neal. Opening it, he saw a picture of the man on the beach, along with pages of information. He skimmed it, raising an eyebrow. Burke had gone to Harvard. Neal knew from Mozzie’s occasional spying on the humans that this was one of the best and most competitive human schools. Interesting - he’d received his Masters and Doctorate in Classical and Mediterranean Archeology. Neal smiled. The two-legged was smart.
Neal liked smart.
“Single, lives in New York City, teaches at Columbia….” Neal flipped through the file. “Moz, where did you get this information?”
“Eh, a friend of a friend knows a pigeon who hangs out in the Classics department at the University in Athens. It was easy.” Mozzie poured a glass of wine and sat down at the table. “The question is, what are you going to do with the information?”
“Not sure.” Neal tossed the file onto the table. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, just that he wanted to see the human – Peter – again.
Mozzie sighed and reached into his shirt pocket. “Here. If I know you – and I do – you’re gonna want to go back to the surface again.” He placed a small pouch on the table between them.
“Something that will help you.” Mozzie gestured to it. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Neal untied the strings and shook out the items that were in the bag. Nestled in his palm were two perfect black pearl earrings. He held them up to the light.
The deep black hue undulated in the lamp glow and as he turned them, it looked like images playing in shadows. “There’s a pattern…”
“They’re etched.” Mozzie picked up the file folder and opened it. “Old magic.”
“Why do I need them?” Neal looked closer at the symbols, tracing a finger over the outlines.
“To keep you on land longer. You only have so much time before you revert back to fins.”
“So why didn’t I need these before? When I made my birthright journey?” Gently, Neal placed them on the bag.
“The King used a spell that triggered your transformation – it's something that can only be triggered by him once without any repercussions. If he has to change you a second time, there's a chance that you'll never get your fins back. These little beauties work differently – you can use them for a limited amount of time – three days at the most. But if you're not back in the water when the clock runs out, you're going to be in big trouble.”
“So do I need to make a deal for these?” Neal chuckled to cover his nervousness. Power like this has a price.
“No. Unlike some of our distant cousins, you won’t have to give up your voice for legs,” Mozzie scoffed.
Neal was relieved that there would be no payback. “So where did you get them?”
“I grabbed them from the Vault.” Mozzie was flippant.
“Wait, you stole these from my father?” Neal looked incredulously at his friend.
“I didn’t ‘steal’ them.” Mozzie made air quotes. “I merely borrowed them for the duration of your obsession.”
“And what’s your plan to get us out of trouble when he finds you took them?” Neal placed them back on the bag. His father’s anger was not worth the risk of using the earrings.
“And you know this how?”
“Because I changed the catalogue entry to ‘lost’ on the off-chance that someone may come looking for them. Which they won’t.”
“Moz, why are you so willing to help me with this?” Neal studied his friend.
Mozzie gave him a crooked smile, “Let’s just say that everyone should have a chance at happiness and leave it at that.”
The tone of his voice let Neal know that he wasn’t going to say any more. “Okay then.” Neal gestured to the earrings. “So tell me how they work.”
“There’s a phrase that activates them.” Mozzie opened one of Neal’s sketchbooks scribbled the words, turning them to Neal when he was finished. “You can say it as long as you’re not wearing the earring and nothing will happen, but you’re going to need to memorize them for later.”
Neal read the words. Ένα γίνεται δύο, στέκεται ψηλά, μόνο για έναν χρόνο. “One becomes two, standing tall, only for a time.” He looked at Mozzie. “Simple.”
“True. Once you’re on land, your fin will become legs. You’ll have a set time before you have to come back to the ocean. Pay attention to that. Ever hear the human story of Cinderella?” Mozzie walked over to the couch and picked up a leather satchel he’d brought with him. Placing it on the table he rooted around in it, pulling out a glass bottle, a needle a small clamp and some cloth. “You’ll know when you’re getting close when your legs start hurting.”
“Okay.” Neal watched as Mozzie took the earrings and placed them on a white cloth. “Um…what are you doing?”
“Getting the earrings ready to use.” Mozzie uncorked the bottle and Neal got a whiff of antiseptic. “I’ll need to pierce your ear.”
“I thought I could just carry them.” Neal rubbed his earlobe. “Do we have to?”
“Yes, we have to. They need to be next to your skin.” Mozzie wiped the needle, the clamp and the earring posts with the antiseptic. “Don’t be such a baby.”
“I’m not being a baby. I’m just not a fan of pain.” He frowned at Mozzie’s expression. “You know what I mean.”
“Trust me, this won’t hurt as bad as you think it will. Come here.” Mozzie gestured with a bit of cloth.
Neal swam closer to his friend and closed his eyes. There was no way he was going to watch a sharp object come close to his face. He felt the cool pressure of the cloth on his ear, then a tight pinch.
“The clamp will numb your earlobe.” Neal could hear Mozzie shuffling. “You’ll feel pressure, but that’s about it.”
“You better be right,” Neal muttered.
“Hey, I’m doing this for you.” The hurt in Mozzie’s voice was evident and Neal felt bad that he’d upset his friend.
“I know, Moz. I’m sorry.” Neal tilted his ear so that Mozzie had a better angle.
“Do you want me to tell you when I’m going to pierce?” Mozzie’s hand was on his chin, holding his face steady.
“No, just do - ,” Neal felt a ‘pop’, a weird sliding feeling and Mozzie fumbling by his ear.
“Okay. Done. Here’s a mirror.”
Neal opened his eyes and took the mirror from Mozzie. Tilting his head he looked at the earring. The dark color made a nice contrast against his skin. He moved his head slightly and he could swear that the etchings shifted like they were alive.
“I like it. You did a good job, Moz. It didn’t hurt at all. Thank you. And again, I’m sorry.”
“You’re welcome.” Neal could tell that Mozzie was mollified by the apology. “Don’t play with it or you’ll get it infected. You’ll need to keep it in for the duration of your need to go topside.”
“Okay.” Neal glanced at the earring again. “Wait. What about at the palace? Won’t my father notice?”
“Luckily the King is leaving for a royal tour tomorrow if you remember. I got you out of it by telling him you were under the weather so you may need to play sick if your mother stops by.”
“Good.” Neal rose and glided to the doors to his balcony. Looking up, he felt Mozzie swim up beside him. “Thank you.”
“Neal…” Mozzie trailed off.
“What, Moz?” Neal knew what Mozzie was going to ask.
“Are you sure about this?” Mozzie put his hand on Neal’s shoulder. “I mean, he’s just a human. Why are you so set on this?”
“I don’t know, Moz. He’s just…” He looked into the concerned face of his friend, at a loss as to why he needed to go to the surface and watch Peter Burke. “I don’t know. But yeah, Moz, I’m sure.” He smiled at Mozzie. “It’ll be okay.”
“If you say so.” They were silent, watching a school of parrot fish swim by. “Just, please be careful. ”
“I know and I’ll be careful.” Neal smiled, the image of Peter Burke in the setting sun foremost in his thoughts. He couldn’t wait to study him and – though he would never tell Mozzie – maybe actually meet the man who was haunting his thoughts.
Two days later Neal was headed for the surface. Mozzie had arranged for some human clothing to be left in a crevasse near Peter’s hotel. When Neal asked him how he’d managed it, Mozzie just smiled enigmatically.
Neal broke the surface of the water just before the sun rose over the horizon. Several strong strokes towards the beach put him at a knee-high depth, the perfect spot to transform. Neal looked around, confirming that there were no spectators nearby. Mozzie was insistent on that point. Taking a deep breath, he chanted the phrase that Mozzie had given him.
“Éna gínetai dýo, stéketai psi̱lá, móno gia énan chróno. One becomes two, standing tall, only for a time.”
He waited a moment but nothing happened. Looking down, he saw his scales reflecting in the dawning of the sun.
Neal was still a Mer. “What the -?” Maybe he didn’t say it correctly. Neal repeated the phrase a second time, then a third. Still nothing.
Cursing Mozzie for a spineless whelk, Neal flipped over, intent on heading back home and giving his friend a piece of his mind.
Then pain, hot, piercing, searing through his fin - bones cracking, muscles ripping in two as his body attempted to reform itself into something it was never designed to be. This wasn’t like the time when he'd turned seventeen and his father took him to the surface so he could understand just what the two-leggeds were like. This was torture. Sinking to the sandy floor, Neal’s mouth opened in a silent scream of anguish. The seawater rushed in, choking him, filling his lungs, cutting off his breathing.
He was drowning.
Panicked, he thrashed, arms flailing, trying to find the surface again. Coughing, Neal’s head broke free, and he frantically sucked in air as he was hit with another wave of agony. Insides twisting, cartilage elongating, organs shifting – it felt like the torment would never end. Somehow Neal made it to the water’s edge. He curled up into himself, whimpers of hurt escaping his lips.
He had no idea how long he lay there, waiting for the transformation to complete itself. Now he knew why Mozzie was so adamant that no one see him. He couldn’t imagine what it must have looked like. Neal made a mental note to wait until he was in shallower water to transform the next time – or make Mozzie come with him for safety’s sake.
Neal rolled over, his body aching, and struggled to sit up. He looked down. Splayed out in front of him were legs. His legs. He took a moment to examine them. It had been a long time since he’d transformed and he’d forgotten how elegant they were. He wriggled his feet in the sand and chuckled at the feeling of the grains between his toes.
Using a nearby rock, he stood, wobbly at first. One foot in front of the other, slowly, walking to the spot Mozzie’s contact had marked with an ‘X’. There he found a bag with clothes, a jug of water, a key and a note. Unfolding it, he read:
Neal quickly rinsed off the sand and salt. Pulling the clothes from the bag, he tried to determine exactly what went where. Thankfully Mozzie’s friend had put helpful notes on each piece so dressing was easy. He put the empty water jug in the bag and headed up to the hotel.
Unlocking the door to the room, he flipped on the light. The space was simple, a bed with a green comforter, a dresser, a small box that he discovered was a refrigerator, a closet, and a bathroom. Neal put the bag in the closet and found the packet that Mozzie said would be there. Sitting on the bed, he opened it and pulled out the contents.
Mozzie’s friend had outdone themselves. Neal was holding a wallet with the local currency and an ID that listed him as “Neal Caffrey.” A file folder similar to the one that Mozzie had shown him earlier held information about Peter Burke’s movements. According to Mozzie’s contact, Burke usually headed to the dig around nine in the morning.
Neal looked at the clock on the end table. Six-thirty. He had some time. Lying back, Neal closed his eyes and settled in to wait.
The dark-haired man was following him again.
Peter had stopped off at the local farmer’s market near the village to pick up some fresh produce and saw him in the crowd. Quickly paying for his purchase, he headed to his motorcycle. He stowed the fruit in the saddlebags, strapped on his helmet, and straddled the old motorcycle he’d bought when he first arrived on Santorini.
It was funny about the bike, an old Triumph just past its quarter-century mark. When he'd been a wet-behind-the-ears grad student on his first dig here in the Aegean, his professor told him to go out and buy the oldest, cheapest motorcycle he could get, so he wouldn't have to rely on the spotty public transportation. This bike would have been brand new back then. It was hard to believe that was twenty-five years ago. It felt like yesterday.
Glancing in the side mirror, he focused on the man loitering at the fruit vendor’s stall. He was slender, with a swimmer’s build, his thick brown hair curling at the nape of his neck. Not that Peter noticed. Not at all. Solid shoulders were encased in a sky blue linen shirt, offset by cream linen pants that were fitted perfectly to his legs.
He’d shown up earlier in the week at the dig site on one of the tours. Peter had spotted him immediately, because he didn’t look like the typical tourist. No camera, not dressed in typical vacationer’s attire - he stood out from the crowd. He seemed more interested in the excavation than listening to the tour guide. Even Jones had made a comment about how engrossed the man was with the ruins.
That evening they’d seen him at the local watering hole. Tucked away in a back booth, he’d been in the shadows, but Peter was certain it was him. The way his head tilted, the set of his shoulders, his gaze – it was exactly the way he’d looked at the dig site. Like he was studying something.
Like he was studying Peter.
It was unnerving.
Peter had gotten up from the bar to go speak to him but was interrupted by several of the locals wanting to know how the excavation was going. By the time he was done talking with them, the man had disappeared.
Then he reappeared the next day back at the ruins. Watching them, watching him. Always in Peter’s line of vision, but never close enough for contact. Slipping just out of reach every time Peter made an effort to take a break and find out just why he was following him.
“Fuck this,” Peter muttered under his breath and climbed off his bike. He was going to find out who this man was and why he was stalking Peter. Scanning the crowd, he looked for his shadow, but the man had melted away into the mass of people. Again.
Peter sighed. Maybe next time. Seating himself on his bike, he started it and drove off to his hotel, totally missing the figure standing in the dim light of the nearby alcove.
Neal stepped out of the shadows as Peter sped by, the - iron horse he rode kicking up a cloud of dust. Walking quickly to the edge of the market, he could see Peter’s trail heading down the road towards the hotel.
He smiled to himself. Studying Peter Burke was definitely proving to be exciting. Simply watching the man as he moved around the excavation site made Neal’s mouth water. His long legs, broad shoulders, the fluidness of his movements reminded Neal of an Orca skimming the whitecaps in the North Sea.
The first time they locked eyes sent chills down Neal’s spine. Chocolate brown with flecks of gold, Peter had looked puzzled at first, then graced him with a smile and a tip of his head. Neal spent the following days observing Peter working and relaxing.
It was actually fun trying to stay just to the left of Peter’s radar. Neal knew he was baiting the other man, but he just couldn’t help it. Peter’s furrowed brow, his off-kilter behavior, his attempts to confront Neal and his frustration when Neal evaded his efforts were just too enjoyable.
Neal knew, however, that it was going to have to end. He’d need to return home soon. Sighing, he hailed a passing cab and gave the driver the name of the hotel. Maybe a nap and a nice glass of red wine would improve his disposition. He arrived at the hotel, paid the driver, and headed to his room.
Stripping down to his underwear, Neal stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. He could hear the ocean’s song, voices from of some of the guests out on the patio, and the distant strains of the music from the café nearby.
His thoughts turned to Peter and he imagined himself laughing and talking with the human. Peter was smiling at him, they were sharing a cheese and fruit plate, the moon was shining…
Then Peter kissed him. Soft lips, slightly chapped, firm against his mouth. Neal moaned, his cock filling. Snaking his hand under his briefs, he palmed his hardening dick. Losing himself in the fantasy that it was Peter touching him, he jacked himself slowly.
“Peter…” Neal whispered, increasing his speed, imagining Peter over him, watching Neal as he bucked his hips up into Peter’s grip. “Oh gods…”
The tightness of his hand, the friction, the thoughts of Peter Burke whispering debauched things in his ear had Neal quickly spilling over his fingers with a gasp. He rode out his orgasm with a choked cry. Sated, he pulled the covers over himself and drifted off.
It was dusk when Neal woke. Stretching, he grimaced, realizing that his briefs were now stuck to his skin. He definitely needed a shower. Padding to the bathroom, he quickly washed and dressed before heading out to the café on the patio. He chose a table overlooking the beach and the ocean, where he ordered a cheese plate along with a glass of Portokalada, enjoying the light citrus beverage.
The guests were spread out around the area, enjoying the sunset and the cool breezes. Music drifted from the kitchen of the café, sounding tinny in the night air.
Neal winced, his legs twinging. The pains were starting. It was going to be time to go home shortly. He sighed, playing with the stem of his glass. He would miss this. The breeze against his skin, the sounds of the birds, the smell of the flowers. And of course, Peter Burke. Mozzie hadn’t said when or if he could come back once he returned to the sea, but maybe he just needed to recuperate for a few days. Seeing Peter again would be worth the pain of his transformation.
A shadow blocked the setting sun. Neal looked up into the face of the man he was obsessed with.
“You’ve been following me.”
“You’ve been following me.”
Peter looked down at the dark haired man seated on the patio of his hotel. Rays from the setting sun bathed his face, tipping the angles of his cheeks in gold and pink. The breeze lifted his hair, ruffling it in such a way that Peter wanted to brush it back, just to know how it would feel against his fingers.
The man looked up at Peter. “Yes.” The word was simple, without a hint of self-consciousness or any awareness of how Peter might mistake him for a stalker.
He could see the man pause, considering his words. “Because you fascinate me.”
Fascinated him? “What the hell does that mean? ‘I fascinate you.’”
The man smiled and Peter was trapped in the brilliance of that grin. “Exactly what it sounds like. You fascinate me, so I’ve been watching you.” His voice was smooth, a trace of an accent that teased at the corner of Peter’s brain.
“You know that’s freaky, right?” Peter couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.
“I’m sorry, is that not something people do?” The man tilted his head questioningly, but Peter could swear he saw a glimpse of mischief flash in his gaze.
“No. Not unless you want to get arrested.” Peter snorted. “Or punched.”
“Ahh. Then I guess I just need to be more discreet.” The man chuckled. “Or more overt.”
“More overt?” Peter huffed in disbelief. “Is that possible?”
“Of course. If I invite you to dinner, then I can watch you without having to worry about you calling the police. Or hitting me.” He gestured to the opposite chair. “Will you join me?”
Peter’s head was whirling. He knew he should say no, but part of him was drawn to the man sitting in front of him. He was a puzzle and Peter was a sucker for puzzles.
Stalling for time he said, “You could at least tell me your name if you intend to keep stalking me.”
It seemed to Peter like the man – Neal – was testing out the last name to see how it sounded. Just another piece of the puzzle that made Peter want to know more about him.
“I’m…” he began to introduce himself.
“Peter Burke. I know.” Neal smiled.
Peter grimaced. “Of course you do.”
Neal shrugged, looking like an unrepentant schoolboy. “Like I said…”
“Yeah…I fascinate you. I get it. Frankly, I’m scared to find out what else you know about me,” he replied dryly.
“I’ll be happy to tell you, but would you please sit down?” Neal motioned to the other chair again. “I swear I’m harmless.”
Peter was sure there were many words he could use to describe Neal Caffrey, but harmless was not going to be one of them. He considered Neal’s offer and went with his gut. It rarely steered him wrong. Plus, if he was truthful, Neal intrigued him as well. “Okay. I’ll bite.” He sat down and regarded Neal with a smirk.
“So - what are we having?”
Neal couldn’t believe his luck. Peter Burke had agreed to have dinner with him. He studied the man in the seat opposite him.
Peter looked better up close. The light green shirt he was wearing reminded Neal of the color of sea kelp in shallow waters. It accentuated Peter’s tanned skin and brought out the gold flecks in his eyes. Neal didn’t know what material Peter’s pants were made of, but he appreciated the way they molded to Peter’s thighs every time he shifted.
And of course there were his hands.
Broad, strong, capable - Neal wanted Peter to touch him with those hands. Run them along Neal’s skin, the rough calluses caressing his nipples, his fingers gripping Neal’s hips as he - .
“So,” Peter’s voice pulled Neal from his thoughts. “What brought you to Santorini? Other than your need to stalk unsuspecting folk?”
Neal felt himself blush. He needed to come up with something. “I’m actually on a bit of a vacation,” he replied, sticking as close to the truth as he could. “Taking a bit of a break from the family business.”
“Oh? What’s that?” Peter poured them some wine and handed Neal his glass. Their fingers brushed and Neal shivered at the contact.
“My father - he's got something of a trading empire. He wants me to step into his ... shoes.” It wasn’t a lie, technically. “He’s travelling on business right now, so I thought I’d take some time off.”
“Is that what you want to do? Follow in your father’s footsteps?”
Neal hadn’t really thought about it before. He’d always assumed that he’d take over when his father retired. “It’s always been the plan, but it’s really what I want to do. What about you? Have you always wanted to be an archeologist?” He laughed at Peter’s expression. “What? I saw you at the dig. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”
“True.” Peter chuckled in reply. “Yeah. I’ve always been fascinated -,” he tipped his glass to Neal, “- with the ancient world. How people lived, who they fought, who they loved. All of it. We can learn so much about ourselves by studying our past…” Peter looked at Neal and flushed. “Sorry. I get carried away sometimes.”
“No, no. It’s fine.” Neal reassured him. “I agree. Plus it’s wonderful to hear you talk so passionately about it.” He bit into the tomato-keftedes that the wait staff had brought for their appetizer. “Makes me curious as to your other passions.”
He heard Peter's quick indrawn breath and secretly smiled to himself. Pretending his comment was innocent, he grinned at Peter and offered him the last appetizer.
The rest of their meal was filled with light, easy conversation. Peter asked questions and Neal smoothly sidestepped the truth and turned the discussion back to Peter and the excavation.
“So tell me, what sort of historical finds have you unearthed so far?” Neal finished up his moussaka. “Anything you can share with us mere mortals?”
“Not really. We’re still in the discovery phase of the project.” Peter gestured to the last piece of baklava and Neal shook his head. He watched Peter finish the dessert, a look of bliss on his face.
“Not even a teaser?” Neal added a coaxing tone to his voice.
“Nope. No spoilers.” Peter grinned at him.
Neal sighed melodramatically then laughed. “Fine.” He signaled the wait staff for the check. “Peter, put your money away,” he said when Peter pulled out his wallet.
“I can’t let you pay,” Peter protested.
“I invited you to dinner so yes you can.” Neal handed the server some cash and turned back to Peter. “Tell you what, come take a walk with me and we’ll call it even. Please?”
He could see Peter consider it. “Okay, yeah. I’d like that.”
Neal stood and extended his hand. Peter took it, a surprised look on his face as Neal pulled him up from the chair. When he tried to let go, Neal twined his fingers around Peter’s and tugged. Walking backwards, he smiled as he led Peter towards the beach.
They strolled down to the water, hands linked. The warmth of Peter’s palm, his callused fingers rubbing against Neal’s skin felt exquisite. They stood at the edge of the water, watching as the waves rolled up onto the shore, their little whitecaps breaking up the darkness of the water.
“I love the ocean at night.” Peter spoke low. “There’s just something about it. Can’t really put it into words, it’s just…” He trailed off.
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” And he did. More than Peter could imagine.
Neal tilted his head up and watched Peter as he gazed out over the incoming tide. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was obvious that he was listening to the rhythm of the waves crashing on the beach.
He reminded Neal of the humans that he’d visited during his one and only visit to the surface. Proud, strong, dominant.
It was no wonder Neal kissed him.
Peter’s lips were firm, slightly chapped, just like Neal had imagined. He tasted like honey and wine and it was a heady flavor. Neal wanted more. He licked Peter’s lips lightly, trying to coax him to open up, but Peter pulled back, causing Neal to chase him slightly.
“Neal...” Peter stepped away and ran a hand over his lips.
“Sorry, sorry. That was too forward. I’m sorry.” Neal mentally kicked himself. He’d moved too quickly, their easy comfort with each other making him forget that Peter had just met him.
“No, no,” Peter started. “Well, yes, but no. I was just startled, that’s all.”
“No. I was wrong. We’ve just met and I shouldn’t have kissed you. I mean, I don’t even know if you like men that way…” Peter’s fingers on Neal’s lips stopped him in mid-sentence.
“Neal. It’s okay.” Peter’s hand curved across Neal’s jaw. “And for the record, yes. I like men that way.”
“Good.” He paused, soaking in the warmth of Peter’s hand on his face. “Good.”
“So, what say we try this again.” Peter’s voice was warm and it sent shivers down Neal’s spine. “Maybe just a bit slower this time, okay?”
“Okay,” was all Neal could say before Peter leaned down and softly pressed their lips together.
It was heaven, and more. Neal let himself be drawn in to Peter’s embrace, following his lead as Peter took charge, coaxing Neal’s lips open this time.
Peter’s tongue danced across Neal’s mouth, licking deep like he needed to consume Neal. Little nips with his teeth, hands cupping Neal’s face and stroking right behind Neal’s ear – they all combined to make Neal weak in the knees.
“You taste so good…” Neal felt more than heard Peter’s words whispered into his mouth. “Been wanting to kiss you all night.”
Neal moaned, gripping Peter’s arms and pulling him closer. He needed to feel Peter’s body against his.
He got his wish as Peter slid his hands down Neal’s sides and spun them around, pushing him against the nearby retaining wall. Peter nudged his thigh between Neal’s legs and rubbed it against Neal’s cock sending tremors of arousal throughout his body.
Neal mewled at the sensation and rocked his hips against Peter, feeling the other man’s erection echoing his. Peter grabbed Neal’s ass and ground down, thrusting harder as he mouthed down Neal’s jaw.
“Gods, Peter, yes…” Neal was delirious with hunger. He needed for Peter to fuck him – now. He reached for the front of Peter’s shirt, his fingers fumbling with the buttons. “Please...I need…”
“What Neal? What do you need?” Peter’s voice was hoarse. “Tell me.”
“Need you to fuck me.”
Peter groaned and kissed him again, his mouth plundering Neal’s, his lips full of promise.
The sound of footsteps crunching on the harsh sand broke them apart. Several couples passed them on their way to the shore. One of the men gave Neal a thumbs up, causing him to blush and bury his face in Peter’s neck.
“I think this is probably not the best place for what we were about to do.” Peter’s voice was warm and husky in Neal’s ear. “We should move this to a more private setting.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” Neal took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart.
“Without sounding too much like a cliché, your place or mine?” Peter nuzzled his neck and sucked a small bruise behind Neal’s ear.
“Yours is closer,” Neal gasped at the sensation.
“Mine it is then.” Peter chuckled, dark and sensual. “You ready?”
“Yeah.” Neal was more than ready.
“Then let’s go.”
Somehow they stumbled to Peter’s hotel room, breathing heavily, hands roaming over each other’s bodies. Peter unlocked the door, shoving it open with a crash as he herded Neal into the room. Kicking the door shut, he pinned Neal against it, hip to hip, diving into a kiss that devoured Neal’s mouth.
Neal gave back as good as he got, curving his hands around Peter’s jaw and sucking on his tongue like a promise. Peter moaned, wanting the feel of Neal’s mouth on his cock rightthefucknow!
Later Peter would swear that Neal was psychic because just as that thought formed in his mind, Neal flipped him against the wall and slid to his knees, hands gripping Peter’s hips as he mouthed Peter’s dick through his slacks.
“Oh God…yes…” Peter’s eyes slammed shut and his head hit the wall as the sound of his zipper being pulled down sent jolts of arousal straight to his dick. He whimpered at the sensation of his pants being unbuckled and eased down. A moment of cool air was there and gone as he felt Neal hand circle him, his fingers caressing the head of Peter’s cock before stroking along his shaft to cup Peter’s balls.
“Beautiful…” Opening his eyes, Peter looked down at Neal’s reverent tone. Neal looked mesmerized as he stared at Peter’s cock and licked his lips. That unconscious gesture sent a jolt of lust throughout Peter’s body causing his dick to jump in Neal’s grip. Neal looked up at Peter, his lust blown eyes asking permission.
Peter groaned. “Oh God, yes…suck me.” It was direct and dirty and Peter didn’t care. His hips bucked forward, his cock brushing against Neal’s lips.
He watched as Neal’s mouth opened to take him in. The warmth and pressure and oh, God, Neal’s tongue almost made him come right then.
Dimly he felt his head bang against the wall again as Neal swallowed him inch by inch. Peter knew he wasn’t small but Neal was taking him practically to the hilt. He’d never been with anyone who could deep throat him without a struggle, but Neal made it seem easy.
Peter’s hands wound themselves in Neal’s hair, not so much guiding him as keeping Peter from shoving himself down Neal’s throat. He could hear Neal making sounds of pleasure, sending vibrations down his cock to his balls.
“Fuck, Neal…feels so fucking good.” Neal hummed, sliding his hands around to Peter’s asscheeks. Pulling them apart, Peter felt Neal slide a fingertip over his hole, pressing down right before Neal buried his face in the curls at the base of Peter’s cock and swallowed.
Peter had no clue what he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth as he pushed deeper down Neal’s throat. Neal pushed back and sucked. Peter felt his balls draw up and he knew he wasn’t going to last.
“God, Neal…gonna come…”
“No.” Peter’s eyes flew open as Neal pulled off and squeezed the base of his cock, effectively short circuiting his orgasm. “Not yet. Want you inside me when you come.” His voice, deep, hoarse and dominant had Peter willing to agree to anything.
“Oh God.” He watched as Neal leaned back, his lips red and swollen, eyes full of desire and promise and groaned as Neal palmed himself through his slacks. “Okay…okay…” Peter pulled away and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. “Clothes…off….”
“Let me…” Neal stood and pushed Peter’s hands away, swiftly unbuttoning and removing Peter’s shirt. His pants, already at halfmast, came next and Peter found himself naked.
“Gorgeous…” Neal breathed, taking his hand and leading him towards the bed. “Been dying to touch you.”
Peter shuddered as Neal circled him, trailing his fingers over Peter’s shoulders, his waist, his chest, his cock. “Like a Greek God.” Neal’s mouth followed, sucking bruises into Peter’s neck, coaxing his nipples into hard peaks, nipping at his lips. “Lie down on the bed for me.”
Peter obeyed – he had no choice. Neal was weaving a spell and Peter was helpless. He watched as Neal undressed, marveling at his perfect physique. Flawless skin, his muscles tight under his skin. The perfect cut of hip. And a slight trail of hair leading towards the most beautiful cock Peter had ever seen.
Long and thick, it jutted proudly away from Neal’s body. Full firm balls below swaying slightly as Neal approached the bed. Peter wanted to taste them.
The bed dipped as Neal climbed on. Peter reached out to pull him close but Neal chuckled and shifted to his side. “Words Peter,” he said in a teasing voice. “Use your words.”
“Wanna taste you.” They came out guttural and desperate.
“Taste what, Peter?” Neal rose up on his knees and took his cock in his hand. “My cock?” He stroked it, once, twice, squeezing a bit of pre-come from the slit. Peter’s mouth watered as he watched the drop hang for a moment before gravity let it loose to splash on Peter’s skin. “You want me to climb up there, rest my hands on the headboard and feed it to you?”
“Yes! God yes!” Peter had never wanted anything more in his entire life. “Please…”
“Since you asked so nicely.” Neal gripped the headboard as he swung a leg over, positioning himself perfectly over Peter’s head. Gripping the base of his dick, he deliberately rested the head on Peter’s lips.
Peter’s mouth opened automatically and Neal’s cock slipped past his teeth as Neal fed it slowly in until it rested at the edge of Peter’s throat.
Peter intended to take his time worshiping Neal’s cock. But the moment that he had the weight of Neal on his tongue he was lost. Neal’s taste, his scent, the undulation of his hips, it all had Peter rocking up to swallow as much of Neal as he could.
“Oh gods, Peter, you feel so good.” Neal thrust deeper and harder and Peter took him, gloried in the pressure at the back of his throat. His eyes were watering, but he could see the ripples of Neal’s muscles as he held himself above Peter, hear the wrecked sound of Neal’s voice as he begged to let him fuck Peter’s mouth.
Peter wrapped his arms around Neal’s thighs and pulled him down, sucking and licking, until Neal was writhing above him.
“Oh gods, Peter, gonna…” was all the warning Peter got before Neal spilled down his throat, hot and salty. Peter took it all until Neal was done emptying himself.
Letting go, Peter eased him to the side. Neal looked up at him with a satisfied smile. “Gods, that was…”
“More than.” Neal moved up to kiss Peter. “Thank you.”
“Oh, we’re not done yet.” Peter grinned at Neal and gestured to his still prominent erection. “I think you told me I couldn’t come unless I was inside you.” He leaned back and opened the side drawer where he kept a small bottle of lube and his condoms, raising an eyebrow at Neal’s chuckle. “What’s so funny?”
“You seem to be well prepared.” Neal nodded his head in direction of the bottle. “Were you expecting company?”
“Never hurts to be prepared.” Peter tossed the items on the bed next to Neal and flipped a leg over his hips, caging the other man with his arms. “Now I think it’s time for you to lie back,” he whispered, kissing and nipping at Neal’s jaw.
He grinned to himself at Neal’s hiss. Peter may have been at Neal’s mercy earlier, but now he was the one in control. Slowly he kissed Neal, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue. He could feel Neal’s hands on his back, his short nails scraping into his skin.
The pain made his cock jump and he knew if he didn’t get Neal prepped soon it would all be over.
“Don’t move. Can you do that?” At Neal’s frantic nod, Peter made his way down Neal’s body, stopping to bite and suck on Neal’s nipples, turning them blood red and hard. He paused at Neal’s stomach, thrusting his tongue quickly in and out of Neal’s belly button in a promise of what was to come.
Neal whined at the motion and Peter felt his hardening cock thrusting against his chest. “You promised me you wouldn’t move.”
“Sorry…sorry.” Neal’s voice was hoarse, from desire or from taking Peter down his throat, Peter wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. Peter loved the desperation in Neal’s tone. He chuckled against Neal’s belly and nipped him when he moved again.
Trailing down to Neal’s dick, Peter took it in his mouth, loving the feel of it growing against his tongue. He pulled off, licked a long strip up the shaft, then wrapped his lips around it again.
Neal was babbling, repeating ‘Oh Gods’ and ‘Feels good’ over and over. Peter reached for the bottle of lube and tucked it in the vee of Neal’s legs. Pulling off of Neal’s cock, he ignored his whine as he slid down the bed a bit.
“Spread your thighs.” Peter popped the lid and squeezed a bit of the slick onto his fingers. Rubbing to warm it a bit, he lifted Neal’s balls, taking one than the other in his mouth.
“Fuck!” Neal arched his back and Peter could hear his nails scrabbling against the cotton sheets. “Peter!”
“Hmmm?” Peter replied as he circled around Neal’s pucker, gently pressing in and out with the tip of his finger.
“More…need…more.” Neal was whining. “Please…”
Peter obliged, sinking his finger in to the first knuckle, then pulling out and pushing in again. He added the second, stretching Neal, scissoring him, before adding a third.
Peter let Neal’s balls slip out of his mouth and maneuvered onto his knees so he could watch Neal as he fucked him with his fingers. Neal was splayed out, eyes closed, moisture leaking down his face as he shoved back against Peter’s hand.
“That feel good?” Peter asked as he hit Neal’s prostate and heard him moan. “My fingers fucking you?”
“Yes, gods, yes!” Neal whimpered as Peter twisted his fingers and pushed them in deeper.
“Not as good as my cock will, though.” Peter picked up the condom from the bed and ripped open the packet with his teeth. He rolled it on with one hand, the other still pumping in and out of Neal. Grabbing the bottle of lube, he dripped it on his cock and smeared it on. “Ready for me?”
“Yeah…want you to fuck me….” Neal’s eyes were open now and he watched Peter with utter want. “Now, Peter…please…”
Peter pulled his fingers out and added the slick to his already lubed cock. Lining up with Neal’s hole, he slowly pushed in until he was completely seated. “Like that?”
“Gods, yes. Feels so good.” Neal rolled his hips slightly and clamped down, squeezing Peter’s dick. “So fucking big inside me…”
Peter gasped at the sensation. Neal had been tight when he’d entered, but the extra pressure was incredible. “Gotta move, Neal.”
“Yeah, c’mon. Fuck me, Peter.” Neal hitched up his legs and wrapped them around Peter, his feet resting on Peter’s ass. “Need you to fuck me.”
Peter began thrusting, slow at first, enjoying the feeling of Neal stretched around his cock. But Neal’s low voice, pleading with him to move faster, harder – begging for Peter to pound him into the mattress – ended any thoughts of drawing things out.
“You want that? You want me to fuck you hard?” Not waiting for an answer, Peter flipped Neal’s legs over his shoulders and began to thrust in and out, harder and faster, just like Neal was begging for.
“Yeah….oh gods, yeah….” Neal’s fingers were digging into his thigh and Peter was certain they’d see bruises come morning. Locking eyes, Peter circled his hips, watching Neal’s expressions as he hit his prostate. Neal licked his lips and shoved back against Peter. “More…”
More? He’d give Neal more. Falling on top of him, Peter locked his arms on either side of Neal’s head and increased his thrusts, jackhammering into him and nailing his prostate with every push.
Neal screamed, his cock spewing semen over their stomachs and chests, his muscles clamping down on Peter like a vise.
That was enough.
Peter shouted as he came, filling the condom. It felt like his orgasm lasted forever. Soon, he could breathe. He unlocked his arms rolled to the side, making sure he didn’t crush Neal.
They both lay there for a moment in silence until Neal broke it with a soft, hoarse, “Fuck…”
“Yeah.” It was all Peter could reply, his brain still not quite online. He knew he needed to throw away the condom and get a cloth to wipe them down, but his body didn’t want to cooperate.
A moment later, he felt the bed shift as Neal got up. Peter turned his head and watched as Neal padded to the bathroom and ran water over a washcloth. After cleaning himself up, Neal returned with another wet towel.
Peter raised his hand to take it, but Neal said, “No, let me,” and proceeded to remove the condom and tie it off. He wiped Peter down with what Peter could only describe as reverence, before returning to the bathroom to dispose of everything.
Peter didn’t know what to say. None of his former lovers had ever taken the time to take care of him after sex. It was always Peter who did that.
Peter’s thoughts were interrupted by Neal coming back into the room. “So…,” he began, wondering if this was the start of the awkward part where Neal made his excuses and left.
“So…,” Neal echoed him.
Peter decided to bite the bullet. “So…I guess I need to ask…are you staying or leaving?”
Neal tilted his head as though he was considering the answer. “Do you want me to stay?”
More than anything, he thought, but there was no way Peter was going to come off sounding like a teenage girl, so he went with the safe answer. “I want you to do what makes you comfortable.”
Neal cocked an eyebrow as if to say really? and sat there, obviously waiting for Peter to give him the right answer.
“Okay, fine. Yes I want you to stay,” Peter huffed.
“Good, because I was really going to be disappointed if you’d wanted me to go.” He looked at Peter with a serious expression. “This wasn’t a one night stand for me, Peter. Just so you know.”
Those words warmed Peter. Somehow this had turned into something more for him too.
“So you’ll stay then?” He knew it was stupid but he just had to ask.
“Yes.” Neal stretched out on the bed and motioned for Peter to lie down. When he did, Neal curled up against him and rested his head on Peter’s shoulder. “But I have to leave early. Morning commitment that I can’t get out of.” He rested his hand over Peter’s heart. “But we can meet later in the day. For dinner maybe?”
“Okay, don’t forget to leave me your cell number.” Peter reached for the cotton top sheet and pulled it over them. He shifted to get more comfortable and wrapped an arm around Neal.
Neal chuckled. “I don’t have a cell phone.”
Peter was floored. Everyone had a cell phone. “You don’t have a cell phone?”
“Nope.” Peter felt Neal shrug. “I’m on vacation. Figured I didn’t need one.”
“So how do people get in touch with you?” He cricked his head down to look at Neal. “What about work calls?”
“They leave a message at the hotel. And if it’s important they send a runner.” Neal shifted up and placed a kiss on Peter’s lips. “Enough questions, okay? I have to get up early in the morning and I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms.”
Peter shut up after that. What else could he say after Neal’s statement? He listened to Neal’s breathing even out, the rhythm so much like the crashing of waves on the beach. His thoughts drifted to he and Neal and a possible future.
Peter fell asleep with a smile on his face.