coffeethyme4me: (Peter Gagged with Crime Tape)
[personal profile] coffeethyme4me
Title: Yet to Define (what you do to me)
Author: [personal profile] coffeethyme4me
Pairing: Peter/Neal
Rating: NC-17
Words: 900
Written for [community profile] mmom day 19 and [personal profile] elrhiarhodan's prompt "sweetness".
Summary: Rimming. Love.

Peter didn’t really relish the idea of sugar-free anything. He’d always believed that a little natural sugar was better than a lot of chemicals. And he stood by that. Except for one thing, and that was edible lube.

He hadn’t been too keen on the idea at first. His lovers’ bodies tasted fine to him – he felt vaguely insulted that he might need some further incentive to put his mouth on either one of them. It was El that had to point out for him that, if he lubed Neal’s ass with something tasty, he could rim him even *after* he’d fucked him, too. And her for that matter. Assuming he’d worn a condom. That was all the argument it took.

They’d tried several flavors, but caramel was by far Peter’s favorite, and thereby Neal’s. He had fucked Neal twice, and his hole was nice and relaxed. Peter had him rolled up in a ball, knees in his armpits. He was whining and sweating, and he still tasted sweet. Peter ran his tongue around the exhausted rim, and Neal quivered. Peter thrust inside. He sucked at it. He kissed Neal, like he’d kiss his mouth, and Neal writhed against his face, hugging his knees.

“You like how that feels?” Peter asked, letting his lips brush against it.

Neal just nodded frantically, his eyes squeezed closed.

“There’s no place on you I can’t touch,” Peter murmured to him, licking slowly over the hole, like he was cleaning him. Sweet, dark heaven.

“Peter…” Neal cried. His hard cock strained up off his belly.

“You don’t know if you want to get fucked or not. If you want me to fill you all the way up for a third time – or if you like your empty hole – if you like to feel the pain of wanting it again.” Peter was ready just talking to him like this. Just tasting the candy and the sweat together, the honey and the musk.

“Want you…to fuck me…fill me…please…Peter…”

“No, you don’t,” Peter said with a smirk. Neal cried and rocked against his face in protest. Peter tensed his tongue – gave him something to fuck himself on for a few minutes. Then he took Neal’s thighs in his hands and held him still. “You like how it feels to beg for more,” he said. “You like your aching, open ass – feeling where I’ve been – needing it back and not getting it.”

Peter wanted to stick his cock in that hole so bad he very nearly gave in. But he enjoyed the emptiness, too. The way Neal’s hole sucked at his tongue, trying to get more. The way the oily lube melted in his mouth and left only Neal – the almost-sweet of him, the bare flesh, the abject aching, the soft, soft inside of him, the unbelievable intimacy.

And Peter liked knowing Neal’s secrets. He liked giving Neal what he wanted, which was to be denied – to be made to fit Peter’s whims, to be given release only when he’d achieved utter loss.

Neal always wanted to be caught. No matter how hard he ran, the goal was not to get away, but to be wanted. For someone to give chase.

Peter knew what they both needed. They needed for Neal to fall apart with the least amount of provocation. He whispered it: “Touch your cock, sweetheart.” The last was unexpected and surprised even Peter who blushed at hearing himself say it. It was a word you used with a woman, wasn’t it? And yet he’d never even dared it with El. It was a special word – one made for the most delicate, the most fragile – not for strong men, cunning men, like Neal Caffrey. But Peter had used it, and it felt right. This was the Neal he had at his mercy. This was something precious he had yet to define.

Neal started to wrap his hand around his cock.

“No,” Peter said. “Tap it.”

Neal groaned. But he did as asked, took the first two fingers of his non-dominant hand, and tapped himself repeatedly just under the crown. It made a light slapping noise, and Peter almost came watching the cock bounce helplessly against those trembling fingers.

Peter feathered his tongue over Neal’s hole, barely touching it – quick, decisive little licks over an empty mouth that begged for more.

Neal held his breath, and five seconds later it happened. Neal gushed, the ropes of his come painting his stomach and chest as he tapped and Peter flicked, and Neal’s hole spasmed, grasping, unable to find purchase, ecstatic.

Before he was even finished, Peter was inside him, no condom, no finesse. He went fast, just needing to come, but Neal’s hands came up and held his face tenderly. Peter panted, fucking. He came inside Neal while Neal’s legs came around his hips, a gentle urging.

Neal’s cock was going soft, and his hands and legs holding Peter were tired, giving. Peter spilled deep inside of him, looking into Neal’s eyes. When he was done, he lay down, his head on Neal’s chest. Neal held him, petting his hair, his back. “I love you,” Neal said. It was the first time.

Peter listened to Neal’s emphatic heart, wrapping his arms around his svelte body, all angles. “What you do to me…” Peter whispered, his voice cracking.

Neal’s hands through his hair were gentle and strong.

They didn’t sleep.


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May 2012

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