![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
waldos_writingsTitle: Wander for Distraction
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2449
Summary: Neal has to fly for the first time since the explosion. He says he's okay with it, but Peter knows better. Peter also knows what to do to *make* it okay.
Written for: Porn Battle X, prompts: comfort, out of town, fingers, waiting, quickie
Notes: Takes place after season one, but has no direct spoilers for season 2.
“We wander for distraction, but we travel for fulfillment.”
- Hilaire Belloc
Peter suspected it would be at least four days in Miami helping them with their faux-couture fashion case. It had taken almost two hours for him to convince Hughes that bringing Neal was a good idea. He’d finally had to promise to use the arrangement that had gotten Neal to Chicago with him last year – that they’d be all but joined at the hip, right down to sharing a hotel room - and that Peter would call in the minute Neal seemed to be missing.
Peter was glad to be able to get Neal the closest thing as he could to a vacation. It had been almost five months since Kate’s death and while Neal appeared more and more normal on the outside, there had been enough time for Peter to learn the little tells that indicated Neal was having a rough day or even a panic attack or flashback. They seemed to be happening less and less, but they were still happening.
The trick would be getting Neal to Miami. He’d done and said all the right things when Peter had come out and told him to go pack a bag for a few days at work and a few afternoons at the beach. But then he’d started scratching that spot just under his right ear where a piece of burning jet had left a small white scar.
So now they were sitting in the very busy concourse of JFK airport, waiting for their flight.
“Explain why we needed to be three hours early for a domestic flight?” Neal groused. “Can’t you just badge your way through security lines twenty minutes before take-off?”
“Sure. I can badge me through the lines. What did you plan on doing? Besides, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure we weren’t going to have to talk our way into getting you off a no-fly list or something.”
Neal glared at him. “None of my aliases have ever been on a no-fly list.” He scratched under his ear.
Peter sighed and pulled Neal’s hand away. “Stop doing that or it’s going to end up bleeding all over again.”
Neal didn’t complain when Peter didn’t let go of his hand. “I’m here. I’m here and getting on the plane, and I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh,” Peter said in a way that let Neal know he was doing anything other than agreeing with him.
As soon as Peter’s hand was moved, Neal went back to scratch at the scar, but before he could actually make contact, Peter grabbed his hand again. “Alright, grab your bag and come here.”
Peter stood and grabbed his own carry-on and herded Neal through the crowd towards the nearest set of bathrooms.
Neal let himself be maneuvered through the throngs of people. “Peter, what are you doing?”
“Giving you something else to think about,” Peter answered as he changed Neal’s direction (using the back of his shirt collar) away from the men’s room and towards the door between the two standard bathrooms.
“The family restroom?” Neal asked as Peter pushed him through the doorway and shut and locked the door behind them. As Peter had hoped, the single, large room was a standard bathroom with an armchair in one corner, presumably for nursing mothers.
Peter shoved Neal against the door, keeping him in place with his hips as he took both of their bags and tossed them into a corner, taking off Neal’s hat and tossing it on top of his bag. When Neal opened his mouth to say something, Peter leaned in and kissed him thoroughly.
Neal raised an eyebrow and smiled a little at Peter when he pulled back. “Um… okay.”
“Were you thinking I’d fuck you when we got to Miami?” Peter asked, pressing against Neal, who wasn’t even trying to get away any more.
“Well…I – uh…” Neal stammered.
Their relationship was complicated, given the oh-so-many reasons they shouldn’t even have the kind of relationship that they did. Peter controlled Neal’s freedom; the potential for abuse was obvious. Peter was FBI, which was still very much an old (straight) boy’s club. Peter was married. Neal was still traumatized over the loss of the woman he’d been willing to give everything for and who had died because of her entanglement with him.
But Peter had learned that with Neal Caffrey nothing would be simple and being complicated just meant that he had to think more creatively. Oddly, what most people would see as the biggest obstacle was the easiest to overcome. Elizabeth was completely okay with Peter seeing other men. It was an arrangement they’d had since before they were married: Peter could see men on the side since there was no way Elizabeth could fill that need in him. In that same way, Elizabeth could have girlfriends when the opportunity arose. But they both understood that what they could get at home, they damn well better get at home.
As for the FBI and the fact that Neal was contractually bound to cooperate with Peter, well, Peter had learned a lot about Neal in the four years he’d chased him, including that Neal would rather be in prison than be used by anyone. He was also sure that Neal was the epitome of discreet. And in the course of their relationship he’d learned that Neal liked the idea of Peter being in charge, despite certain rules about where they were together that he insisted upon.
A public bathroom in an airport wasn’t on Neal’s list. The bed Peter shared with Elizabeth, under June’s roof… these were places Neal didn’t feel comfortable having sex because of some sense of propriety. This shouldn’t cause him a problem.
They were both dressed casually, knowing they wouldn’t be hooking up with the Miami office until the next morning. Both were in jeans (Neal’s were designer, Peter noticed – even his jeans were insanely expensive), Peter wore a t-shirt with an old college sweatshirt. Neal was in a crisp white oxford and his hat. And damn if that wasn’t one of the four the hottest thing Peter had seen in the past decade.
“Undo your belt and pants,” Peter instructed, taking a step back, leaving just enough room for Neal to comply, not enough that the backs of Neal’s hands wouldn’t brush against his own crotch as Neal complied.
Neal’s eyebrows shot up. “Here?”
Peter palmed Neal’s crotch, glad to find that neither stress nor surprise was affecting Neal’s comprehension of the situation, as he felt Neal’s cock start to swell under the pressure. “Here. And now.”
Peter noticed Neal’s eyes dart over to be sure the door was locked before complying.
“This is a side of you I’ve never seen before,” Neal observed as he undid his belt and button and slowly slid the zipper down.
“Disappointed?” Peter asked as he slid his hand into Neal’s pants and began massaging his balls through the navy blue cotton of his briefs.
Neal’s breath caught as Peter tugged and a strangled, “What do you think?” escaped from his lips.
Peter pulled his hands back and brought them up to rest on Neal’s shoulders for a second before sliding over his biceps and down to his wrists. Peter put Neal’s hands over his head, against the door. “Stay like that,” he whispered in Neal’s ear. Neal nodded.
Peter backed away, watching to see if Neal would move. He didn’t, but he looked thoroughly confused as to why Peter had him half undressed and against the wall and was moving away.
Peter grabbed Neal’s bag and began digging through it.
“What do you think I put in there?” Neal asked.
“You telling me you didn’t pack lube?”
“Uh… well, yeah, I did. Peter, you’re going to do this here?”
“If I said ‘yes’ would that be a problem?” Peter found the bottle in Neal’s toiletries, and waved it at Neal.
“I – um… no?”
Peter stood back up and came back to Neal, the lube shoved in his own front pocket. He began wiggling Neal’s pants and briefs down, Neal cooperating by leaning away from the wall as needed. “That an answer or a question?”
“No. It wouldn’t be a problem,” Neal clarified, but he still looked surprised and somewhat confused at the current turn of events.
Peter just laughed and led Neal to turn and face the blue tiled wall next the door, feet apart. “Walk your hands down,” he instructed waiting until Neal was leaning against the wall on his hands, his ass presented to Peter.
Peter pulled the lube out and laughed as Neal jumped a little when he heard the lid pop open and the wet ‘sploosh’ that followed. He put his dry hand on Neal’s back, holding the tails of his shirt out of the way as he traced the crack of Neal’s ass with two lubed fingers. “I’m not going to fuck you here. I’m going to fuck you when we get to Miami. So I guess you’re going to have to get on that plane.”
Neal let his head fall against the wall as he realized what Peter’s motivation was. He was about to complain when he felt those two fingers that had been trailing up and down his ass, slide into him in one slow, controlled thrust. “Oh god, Peter…”
“As soon as we get to the hotel, but not before,” he said as he slid his hand back and then forward again. “Sound good?”
“Well… yes and no.” Neal panted as he tried to look over his shoulder at Peter. “Yes, because… of course I want you to do that.” Peter’s hand shook a little as he laughed. It was a running joke between them. Neal hated to use the word ‘fuck’. Not because he over-romanticized what they had between them, but because it was just so base, so vulgar. And nothing Neal Caffrey did or said would ever be considered crass.
Peter added a third finger as he pressed in again. “And what’s the ‘no’ about?”
Neal twisted so that he could see Peter as he explained, “You really want me to sit through a four-hour plane ride with my cock this hard?”
“Hm…” Peter said, leaning around Neal to see that his cock was now completely hard and swaying in the breeze. “Well…” he started as if he was just now considering the implications. “I guess that would be a bit cruel.”
Neal just gave him an imploring look.
After a few more seconds of consideration, Peter removed his fingers and grabbed a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and wiped his hands off. “Sit in the chair,” he said as he wiped the last traces of lube off.
Neal hobbled over to the padded chair, not readjusting his clothes.
Peter stood over him for a second, just taking in the sight of Neal, hair disheveled, breathing rapidly, with his cock jutting out against his stomach. Then he dropped to his knees and without warning started sucking on the head of Neal’s cock. From the corner of his eye he could see Neal gripping the edge of the chair and he could feel the tension in his hips as he tried not thrust up into the unexpected heat and moisture.
“Oh Peter, good god, give a guy some warning?” Neal’s head fell back against the top of the chair back with a quiet thud.
Peter didn’t stop what he was doing to answer. He just wrapped one hand around the root of Neal’s cock and began pumping as he sucked a little harder. His other hand slid around to rest on Neal’s hip, his fingers brushing over the swell where his back arched into his very shapely ass.
Neal pulled together enough brain cells to drop one hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing tight, holding on.
Peter clearly wasn’t going for style or finesse at that point, but Neal didn’t much care. The idea of walking around for the next couple hours while they waited for the flight and then the flight itself lubed and waiting for Peter had him hard enough that it wasn’t going to take long. “Peter!” he gasped in warning as Peter’s tongue circled the head of his cock before he swallowed Neal down again. That was it. He squeezed Peter’s shoulder tight, hoping Peter would understand, as his back arched. Peter moved with him, neither getting gagged nor letting go as Neal came in his mouth.
They both sat breathing heavily for a few seconds. When Neal was finally able to open his eyes he gave Peter such a dopey look that Peter laughed out loud. “You look like… nevermind… I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Peter stood up and dusted off the knees of his jeans. He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pressed it into Neal’s hand. “Get yourself cleaned up, for all we know there’s a line outside this bathroom by now.”
Neal doubted it. He was pretty sure that other than that thirty-seconds or so there, he would have heard someone tugging on the door, trying to see if it was locked, but the point was taken.
Peter had retrieved his own bag and was looking for something in it, turning his back, giving Neal a minute to put himself together.
“What are you looking for?” Neal asked as he shoved his shirttails back into his jeans and zipped himself back up.
Peter held up his toothbrush.
“Ah,” Neal said, blushing just a little. He crowded Peter against the sink. “What about you?”
Peter leaned back into Neal, taking the lube out of his pocket and sliding it into Neal’s. “In Miami. Better make sure you stay ready.”
Neal’s eyes rolled back as he imagined himself having to lube himself again in the tiny airplane lavatory before they landed so he’d be sure to be ready when they checked into the hotel. He took a step back, trying to compose himself. He grabbed his hat off his bag and put it on, pulling it down to keep his eyes in shadow. “There’s a café a few gates down; I’m going to go get – do you want…?”
Peter laughed at Neal’s discombobulation, but had to admit he was significantly calmer than he had been when they’d come in. “You know how I take it,” he said, knowing damn well that Neal’s brain would take that in the most sexual way possible.
“Oh yeah. Yeah, I do,” Neal said as he grabbed the strap to his satchel and slipped out of the bathroom, letting Peter brush his teeth and letting them both get their game faces back on.
Rating: NC-17
Length: 2449
Summary: Neal has to fly for the first time since the explosion. He says he's okay with it, but Peter knows better. Peter also knows what to do to *make* it okay.
Written for: Porn Battle X, prompts: comfort, out of town, fingers, waiting, quickie
Notes: Takes place after season one, but has no direct spoilers for season 2.
“We wander for distraction, but we travel for fulfillment.”
- Hilaire Belloc
Peter suspected it would be at least four days in Miami helping them with their faux-couture fashion case. It had taken almost two hours for him to convince Hughes that bringing Neal was a good idea. He’d finally had to promise to use the arrangement that had gotten Neal to Chicago with him last year – that they’d be all but joined at the hip, right down to sharing a hotel room - and that Peter would call in the minute Neal seemed to be missing.
Peter was glad to be able to get Neal the closest thing as he could to a vacation. It had been almost five months since Kate’s death and while Neal appeared more and more normal on the outside, there had been enough time for Peter to learn the little tells that indicated Neal was having a rough day or even a panic attack or flashback. They seemed to be happening less and less, but they were still happening.
The trick would be getting Neal to Miami. He’d done and said all the right things when Peter had come out and told him to go pack a bag for a few days at work and a few afternoons at the beach. But then he’d started scratching that spot just under his right ear where a piece of burning jet had left a small white scar.
So now they were sitting in the very busy concourse of JFK airport, waiting for their flight.
“Explain why we needed to be three hours early for a domestic flight?” Neal groused. “Can’t you just badge your way through security lines twenty minutes before take-off?”
“Sure. I can badge me through the lines. What did you plan on doing? Besides, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure we weren’t going to have to talk our way into getting you off a no-fly list or something.”
Neal glared at him. “None of my aliases have ever been on a no-fly list.” He scratched under his ear.
Peter sighed and pulled Neal’s hand away. “Stop doing that or it’s going to end up bleeding all over again.”
Neal didn’t complain when Peter didn’t let go of his hand. “I’m here. I’m here and getting on the plane, and I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh,” Peter said in a way that let Neal know he was doing anything other than agreeing with him.
As soon as Peter’s hand was moved, Neal went back to scratch at the scar, but before he could actually make contact, Peter grabbed his hand again. “Alright, grab your bag and come here.”
Peter stood and grabbed his own carry-on and herded Neal through the crowd towards the nearest set of bathrooms.
Neal let himself be maneuvered through the throngs of people. “Peter, what are you doing?”
“Giving you something else to think about,” Peter answered as he changed Neal’s direction (using the back of his shirt collar) away from the men’s room and towards the door between the two standard bathrooms.
“The family restroom?” Neal asked as Peter pushed him through the doorway and shut and locked the door behind them. As Peter had hoped, the single, large room was a standard bathroom with an armchair in one corner, presumably for nursing mothers.
Peter shoved Neal against the door, keeping him in place with his hips as he took both of their bags and tossed them into a corner, taking off Neal’s hat and tossing it on top of his bag. When Neal opened his mouth to say something, Peter leaned in and kissed him thoroughly.
Neal raised an eyebrow and smiled a little at Peter when he pulled back. “Um… okay.”
“Were you thinking I’d fuck you when we got to Miami?” Peter asked, pressing against Neal, who wasn’t even trying to get away any more.
“Well…I – uh…” Neal stammered.
Their relationship was complicated, given the oh-so-many reasons they shouldn’t even have the kind of relationship that they did. Peter controlled Neal’s freedom; the potential for abuse was obvious. Peter was FBI, which was still very much an old (straight) boy’s club. Peter was married. Neal was still traumatized over the loss of the woman he’d been willing to give everything for and who had died because of her entanglement with him.
But Peter had learned that with Neal Caffrey nothing would be simple and being complicated just meant that he had to think more creatively. Oddly, what most people would see as the biggest obstacle was the easiest to overcome. Elizabeth was completely okay with Peter seeing other men. It was an arrangement they’d had since before they were married: Peter could see men on the side since there was no way Elizabeth could fill that need in him. In that same way, Elizabeth could have girlfriends when the opportunity arose. But they both understood that what they could get at home, they damn well better get at home.
As for the FBI and the fact that Neal was contractually bound to cooperate with Peter, well, Peter had learned a lot about Neal in the four years he’d chased him, including that Neal would rather be in prison than be used by anyone. He was also sure that Neal was the epitome of discreet. And in the course of their relationship he’d learned that Neal liked the idea of Peter being in charge, despite certain rules about where they were together that he insisted upon.
A public bathroom in an airport wasn’t on Neal’s list. The bed Peter shared with Elizabeth, under June’s roof… these were places Neal didn’t feel comfortable having sex because of some sense of propriety. This shouldn’t cause him a problem.
They were both dressed casually, knowing they wouldn’t be hooking up with the Miami office until the next morning. Both were in jeans (Neal’s were designer, Peter noticed – even his jeans were insanely expensive), Peter wore a t-shirt with an old college sweatshirt. Neal was in a crisp white oxford and his hat. And damn if that wasn’t one of the four the hottest thing Peter had seen in the past decade.
“Undo your belt and pants,” Peter instructed, taking a step back, leaving just enough room for Neal to comply, not enough that the backs of Neal’s hands wouldn’t brush against his own crotch as Neal complied.
Neal’s eyebrows shot up. “Here?”
Peter palmed Neal’s crotch, glad to find that neither stress nor surprise was affecting Neal’s comprehension of the situation, as he felt Neal’s cock start to swell under the pressure. “Here. And now.”
Peter noticed Neal’s eyes dart over to be sure the door was locked before complying.
“This is a side of you I’ve never seen before,” Neal observed as he undid his belt and button and slowly slid the zipper down.
“Disappointed?” Peter asked as he slid his hand into Neal’s pants and began massaging his balls through the navy blue cotton of his briefs.
Neal’s breath caught as Peter tugged and a strangled, “What do you think?” escaped from his lips.
Peter pulled his hands back and brought them up to rest on Neal’s shoulders for a second before sliding over his biceps and down to his wrists. Peter put Neal’s hands over his head, against the door. “Stay like that,” he whispered in Neal’s ear. Neal nodded.
Peter backed away, watching to see if Neal would move. He didn’t, but he looked thoroughly confused as to why Peter had him half undressed and against the wall and was moving away.
Peter grabbed Neal’s bag and began digging through it.
“What do you think I put in there?” Neal asked.
“You telling me you didn’t pack lube?”
“Uh… well, yeah, I did. Peter, you’re going to do this here?”
“If I said ‘yes’ would that be a problem?” Peter found the bottle in Neal’s toiletries, and waved it at Neal.
“I – um… no?”
Peter stood back up and came back to Neal, the lube shoved in his own front pocket. He began wiggling Neal’s pants and briefs down, Neal cooperating by leaning away from the wall as needed. “That an answer or a question?”
“No. It wouldn’t be a problem,” Neal clarified, but he still looked surprised and somewhat confused at the current turn of events.
Peter just laughed and led Neal to turn and face the blue tiled wall next the door, feet apart. “Walk your hands down,” he instructed waiting until Neal was leaning against the wall on his hands, his ass presented to Peter.
Peter pulled the lube out and laughed as Neal jumped a little when he heard the lid pop open and the wet ‘sploosh’ that followed. He put his dry hand on Neal’s back, holding the tails of his shirt out of the way as he traced the crack of Neal’s ass with two lubed fingers. “I’m not going to fuck you here. I’m going to fuck you when we get to Miami. So I guess you’re going to have to get on that plane.”
Neal let his head fall against the wall as he realized what Peter’s motivation was. He was about to complain when he felt those two fingers that had been trailing up and down his ass, slide into him in one slow, controlled thrust. “Oh god, Peter…”
“As soon as we get to the hotel, but not before,” he said as he slid his hand back and then forward again. “Sound good?”
“Well… yes and no.” Neal panted as he tried to look over his shoulder at Peter. “Yes, because… of course I want you to do that.” Peter’s hand shook a little as he laughed. It was a running joke between them. Neal hated to use the word ‘fuck’. Not because he over-romanticized what they had between them, but because it was just so base, so vulgar. And nothing Neal Caffrey did or said would ever be considered crass.
Peter added a third finger as he pressed in again. “And what’s the ‘no’ about?”
Neal twisted so that he could see Peter as he explained, “You really want me to sit through a four-hour plane ride with my cock this hard?”
“Hm…” Peter said, leaning around Neal to see that his cock was now completely hard and swaying in the breeze. “Well…” he started as if he was just now considering the implications. “I guess that would be a bit cruel.”
Neal just gave him an imploring look.
After a few more seconds of consideration, Peter removed his fingers and grabbed a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and wiped his hands off. “Sit in the chair,” he said as he wiped the last traces of lube off.
Neal hobbled over to the padded chair, not readjusting his clothes.
Peter stood over him for a second, just taking in the sight of Neal, hair disheveled, breathing rapidly, with his cock jutting out against his stomach. Then he dropped to his knees and without warning started sucking on the head of Neal’s cock. From the corner of his eye he could see Neal gripping the edge of the chair and he could feel the tension in his hips as he tried not thrust up into the unexpected heat and moisture.
“Oh Peter, good god, give a guy some warning?” Neal’s head fell back against the top of the chair back with a quiet thud.
Peter didn’t stop what he was doing to answer. He just wrapped one hand around the root of Neal’s cock and began pumping as he sucked a little harder. His other hand slid around to rest on Neal’s hip, his fingers brushing over the swell where his back arched into his very shapely ass.
Neal pulled together enough brain cells to drop one hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing tight, holding on.
Peter clearly wasn’t going for style or finesse at that point, but Neal didn’t much care. The idea of walking around for the next couple hours while they waited for the flight and then the flight itself lubed and waiting for Peter had him hard enough that it wasn’t going to take long. “Peter!” he gasped in warning as Peter’s tongue circled the head of his cock before he swallowed Neal down again. That was it. He squeezed Peter’s shoulder tight, hoping Peter would understand, as his back arched. Peter moved with him, neither getting gagged nor letting go as Neal came in his mouth.
They both sat breathing heavily for a few seconds. When Neal was finally able to open his eyes he gave Peter such a dopey look that Peter laughed out loud. “You look like… nevermind… I’m sure you can figure it out.”
Peter stood up and dusted off the knees of his jeans. He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pressed it into Neal’s hand. “Get yourself cleaned up, for all we know there’s a line outside this bathroom by now.”
Neal doubted it. He was pretty sure that other than that thirty-seconds or so there, he would have heard someone tugging on the door, trying to see if it was locked, but the point was taken.
Peter had retrieved his own bag and was looking for something in it, turning his back, giving Neal a minute to put himself together.
“What are you looking for?” Neal asked as he shoved his shirttails back into his jeans and zipped himself back up.
Peter held up his toothbrush.
“Ah,” Neal said, blushing just a little. He crowded Peter against the sink. “What about you?”
Peter leaned back into Neal, taking the lube out of his pocket and sliding it into Neal’s. “In Miami. Better make sure you stay ready.”
Neal’s eyes rolled back as he imagined himself having to lube himself again in the tiny airplane lavatory before they landed so he’d be sure to be ready when they checked into the hotel. He took a step back, trying to compose himself. He grabbed his hat off his bag and put it on, pulling it down to keep his eyes in shadow. “There’s a café a few gates down; I’m going to go get – do you want…?”
Peter laughed at Neal’s discombobulation, but had to admit he was significantly calmer than he had been when they’d come in. “You know how I take it,” he said, knowing damn well that Neal’s brain would take that in the most sexual way possible.
“Oh yeah. Yeah, I do,” Neal said as he grabbed the strap to his satchel and slipped out of the bathroom, letting Peter brush his teeth and letting them both get their game faces back on.