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[personal profile] coffeethyme4me
Title: Stuck
Author: [personal profile] coffeethyme4me
Pairing: Peter/Neal
Rating: NC-17
Words: 800
Summary: [personal profile] elrhiarhodan wanted this: Neal and Peter, having humped each other to orgasm, fall asleep without cleaning themselves up. They wake up, glued together by their jism.
Warnings/Enticements: a teensy bit of age difference kink, just-inside-the-door kink, frotting on the floor, I'd say come!play but it's not so much play....
A/N: Sorry about the lame title.





They were barely inside the door.

Their clothes were in a pile.

Neal still had one sock on.

Peter had held him down on the floor by his wrists. Their hips had been frenzied, almost as much as their breath.

Neal had lifted his head, unable to lift anything else but his legs – up and open, submissive – and he had watched their cocks moving together for just those few seconds, and then he’d banged his head back down, Peter’s fists tightening around him like judgment.

They had squeaked across the floor.

Neal had screamed when he came. He had woken the city that never sleeps.

Peter had growled through a hard bite to Neal’s neck, hips like pistons, his whole body a rigid muscular dream – something that Neal would have licked, licked for hours, the salt coming off on his tongue perfectly, if he had not been pinned down, if he had not been exhausted by the best orgasm he’d had all year.

Peter collapsed on him, heavy, fantastic. Neal’s sweaty legs clung to Peter’s, his hands cupping ass reverently.

They’d slept.

The light shifted over their bodies and the sunset blasted against Neal’s closed lids. He groaned.

“Get off,” he groused. He needed a shower. They both stank horribly: come and old sweat. Neal swatted at Peter’s ass to wake him. Peter drooled on his shoulder and lifted his head, smacking his lips.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“Timesit?” Peter rubbed his eyes, a gigantic little boy.

“Time to get off me, you lug, I have to pee.”

Peter licked his neck, making Mmmm noises of early arousal.

“Do you want me to pee on you, Peter?”

Peter dropped his head back down. “All right, gimme sec.” Then he lifted up. And he stopped. “Oh crap.”

“Ouch!” Neal said at the same time. “Your cock!”

“Is stuck in your pubes, yeah.”

“Ow!”

“Okay. Just…”

“No! Ow! Peter!”

“Quit whining.” Peter shimmied his hips a little.

“That fucking hurts, goddamnit.”

“We need a warm washcloth.”

“Yeah. That’s brilliant, Peter. Let’s just inch our way across the floor to the bathroom in absolute syncopation. Or better yet, I’ll yell for June!” Neal banged his head down on the floor again.

Peter looked down at him, a glint in his eye. “You know what we need.”

“What.”

Peter waggled his brows. “Lubrication.”

“That’s in the bedroom. We’re by the front door. Half the time we do this we’re by the front door. I never thought I’d need lube by the front door.” Neal knew he was beginning to sound petulant.

“Not that kind of lubrication,” Peter corrected him. “Talk dirty to me.”

“Mud. Shit. Bank fraud.”

“Very funny.” Peter had reached between them and was stroking himself awkwardly. “Wait, why am I dong myself? You’re the one who practically pours pre-come.” Peter began handling Neal’s cock, rubbing his thumb under the pouty crown. It came alive in his hand, and Neal couldn’t help a happy little whine. “That’s my boy,” Peter crooned as Neal’s dick got hard in his hand. “That’s my boy. Come on.”

Neal thrashed his head from side to side. “You’re…a prick,” he declared breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, tugging on Neal’s cock until it started to drip. He aimed it as close as he could to the place they were glued together.

“What if this doesn’t work, Peter?” Neal had to ask, even as he got closer. “What if this just makes it worse? Oh yeah like that! Holy shit, Peter, I love your calluses.”

“It’ll work,” Peter said, pulling harder and watching Neal’s cock drool. “Trust me.” Then he cast that wicked smile at Neal, and Neal gave himself up to it, and he let Peter bring him off, aiming the new ropes of semen at the spot where Peter’s big cock was tangled in Neal’s dark bush of hair.

“Oh Peter! Oh God!” Neal cried out.

“Yes!” Peter added, pulling his now-wet (and hard) cock free. “Who’s the man?” Peter crowed.

“You’re the man. You’re always the man,” Neal panted. “Help me up.”

Peter stood slowly, unbending his body with a few creaks and pops.

“Come on, old man,” Neal wheedled.

Peter stood over him and aimed his cock at Neal on the floor, starting to stroke. “Who you callin’ old, kid?”

“I gotta pee first,” Neal said.

“Oh all right.” Peter offered him a hand. “I’ll meet you in the shower.”

Neal beamed at him. “Yes, sir.”

Peter slapped him hard on the ass. “Warm up that mouth of yours.”

Neal blushed and walked away, feeling the sting of Peter’s hand on his asscheek, the bite on his neck, the place where some of his pubes had been pulled out by their predicament – and he was as happy as he could be.



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