Author:
Rating: NC-17 (OT3 Sex)
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Elizabeth Burke, Neal Caffrey,
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~800
Summary: Eight Clauses That Define Their Relationship – S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y – Yeah!
Author’s Notes: Because I can’t help but link my fics together, just about each one of the segments references something I’ve written in one or more of my previously written stories. I note this just so you don’t think I’m repeating myself accidentally. This part takes place the day after Take a Seat, Mr. Caffrey - Part IV: Demonstration.
Previous Parts:
I – We The People
II – In Order To Form A More Perfect Union
III - Establish Justice
When Peter was a boy, rainy Saturdays sucked.
Now, though – rainy Saturdays are meant for lazing in bed, particularly after a Friday night like the one he just enjoyed. He and Neal were at the office late, and not necessarily working. It still amuses him how much Neal gets turned on by his bifocals, and he’s a little appalled at his own reaction to putting the handcuffs on his lover and seeing him get out of them time and time again. The near-miss with Hughes saying goodnight, and Neal in that deliciously submissive position under his desk lead to some hard play at the office and then at home
El got back from her event late, but not so late that she missed seeing him using a crop on Neal’s buttocks. They had fun, the three of them, taking turns with it. But that’s not how he really likes to define their relationship – it’s so much more than sex games and toys and playing out kinky fantasies (and there’s quite a bit of that, most of it at El’s instigation).
No, what defines what they have are the moments like this – the rainy Saturday mornings – these domestic moments. Waking up with morning wood, a warm, beautiful wife on one side, a warm, beautiful … husband … on the other. This is what’s best in life.
Peter stretches and reaches for his spouses, but both the husband and the wife are missing. He opens his eyes, disappointed. The light’s on in the bathroom and he hears the back door slide shut.
Ahhh, this is really what’s best. Someone else to let the dog out on a rainy Saturday morning.
The wife emerges from the bathroom, hair brushed and wearing nothing but an old tee shirt of his, which should not have been at all sexy, but it was – maybe because it was so easy to remove. She straddles him and he kisses her, enjoying the mint taste of toothpaste. He probably should get up and brush his own teeth.
“Ugh…morning breath, dear.”
Peter rolls out from under El and head for the bathroom. The husband’s beaten him to the sink and they jockey a bit for position. Neal gets in front after squeezing his butt, which is still sore from last night’s play with the crop. That's fine for him, since he likes leaning into Neal’s back. And his ass.
They brush, spit and rinse, and Neal gives him privacy to piss and wash up.
When Peter gets back to the bedroom, he’s got a choice (and everyone should be faced with such a choice at least once in his life) – who gets to be in the middle? El solves his dilemma by climbing over a naked Neal, who is stretched out over half the bed.
Peter strips. “So, it’s going to be an Elizabeth sandwich this morning?” She just smiles at him.
He gets back into bed, spooning against her, cupping her breasts in his hands, his erection sliding slowly between her buttocks.
Neal lies facing her, and Peter watches as they kiss – a dreamy pas de deux of lips and tongues. Neal’s fingers gently cup her cheek, her hands fluttering through his hair, coming to rest on his shoulders like two white doves. She gasps when Peter scuffs her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, then pinches and rolls those two hard points, and Neal takes advantage, swallowing her breath, deepening his kiss.
Peter is, as always, enthralled by the two of them. El and Neal kissing is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, there is a perfection to them that makes something within him burst with joy, each and every time. He doesn’t wonder about it, or worry about it. Neal breaks off their kiss and reaches up for him, eyes shining, and he kisses him, then El and suddenly the bed becomes a sea of moving arms and legs and thighs and he’s surrounded by soft skin and muscle and bone and breasts. In a rush of breath, El’s crouching over him, sliding down his cock, lightly keening her satisfaction. She sits up and Neal’s now behind her, parting her labia, stroking her clit in time with her strokes.
The weight of the two of them keeps his hips pinned to the bed, so Peter lets El ride both him and Neal, who must have his own cock tucked in between her buttocks. He claws at the sheets as his orgasm rises, but he holds it until El reaches her own climax. Her body clenches around him and he erupts within her. Through the pounding of his heart, he hears Neal’s shout of completion.
The rain pounds against the bedroom window and they fall into a sweaty tangle of limbs, sinking easily back into dreamless sleep.
GO TO PART V: Provide For The Common Defense
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