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white_collar2011-01-03 09:07 pm
whiplash) wrote in white_collar2011-01-03 09:07 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: not for his sins, but by them (1/1)
Pairings: Neal/OMCs
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Prostitution and, within that context, BDSM, drugs and dub-con.
Spoilers: Point Blank
Summary: For prompt five on the White Collar fest.
not for his sins, but by them
written by Whiplash
The first time is several months after Katie but just a few weeks after Mozzie.
The man who propositions him is fairly attractive in an expensive suit and a hair cut which compliments his angular face. Neal returns the smile and, after a few moments of hesitation, trails after the stranger to the restaurant bathroom.
They don't trade names. In fact, they barely speak at all. The stranger unzips while Neal licks the palm of his hand and wraps it around the already hard cock. All it takes is a few strokes before hot, white cum spills over Neal's hand and down the cuff of his shirt.
The man wipes his spent cock with a paper towel before tucking himself back into his trousers. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but instead just reaches for his money clip. He peels off a few bills and leaves them by the sink.
The sound of the door closing snaps Neal out of his trance; his mind suddenly churning alongside with his belly as he washes cum off his hands and dabs at the stains on his cuff.
---
He finds his next john in a small, private club just within his radius. The john – someone Neal's age this time, with artistically ripped jeans and a faded brand name t-shirt – slips on a condom before leaning back against the wall and giving Neal an expectant look.
"C'mon," he says, lazily pumping his cock. "I haven't got all night, you know."
Neal closes the space between them and kneels; the cheap linoleum floor hard and cold through the thin fabric of his slacks. The john wraps his hand in Neal's hair and pulls him closer, close enough for the familiar smell of another man's crotch to hit him right in the face. Memories flash through his mind and for a moment he almost balks.
"C'mon," the john repeats and Neal pushes everything away but the task at hand. Wrapping his lips around the tip of the cock he tastes rubber and hopes that muscle memory will keep him from gagging.
---
Actual penetration has always struck him as unnecessarily messy and complicated. And back in the day he just hadn’t ever seen the need to risk it; not when hand jobs and blow jobs had always been enough to keep him in food and paints.
Things are different now though. This time around he’s not in it for the money.
"Try one of these," the john says, digging through his jacket pocket for a few moments before pulling up a plastic bag with half a dozen tiny white pills. He wears a polyester suit, cheap shoes and a gaudy ring. "It'll make it better. Promise."
Neal blinks down at the pills, hesitating for half a moment before accepting one. After all, why not? He's already breaking all the rules in the book; his own as well as Peter’s. Flashing the john a wide small he tosses the pill back and swallows it dry.
The john laughs and drags him in for a kiss; wet and sloppy, not unlike getting licked by Satchmo. Neal swallows hard, almost losing his nerve before forcing himself to step closer. The man smells of cologne and sweat and Neal breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down a stubbly chin and over the man’s ear.
"Let’s take this to the bed," Neal finally mouths into the john's damp neck. The room is swaying and seems to be running low on air. “Let me show you how much I want this.”
Later on, he’ll only remember bits and pieces. Burrowing his head into the pillows to muffle the sounds and clawing at the sheets to keep from pushing the john away. The steady slap, slap, slap of skin against skin. Cold sweat pouring down his spine and then the john’s teeth against the nape of his neck.
He does it again a few days later, but without the drugs this time.
Anything else feels like cheating.
---
He lets the john cuff him to the head board. The agreement between them is simple – with a stress on absolutely no marking the skin – but still fairly generous and there's unease crawling just under Neal’s skin.
Looking up he meets the john's eyes – gray-blue under bushy eyebrows and a heavy brow – and offers up his very best smile. It's the same one which had won over June, Elizabeth and countless others. The john doesn't smile back though; just stares down at him with an almost tangible focus.
The john keeps staring as his hands traces Neal's chest; over his ribs, his collarbone, his sternum... seeking out bones and sharp, hard outlines. As Neal realizes he obligingly inhales deeply and is finally rewarded with a returned smile.
"Open your mouth," the john says so Neal opens wide, allowing thick fingers to slide past his lips and explore his mouth. The john's fingers rub against his gums and teeth, pressing down on his tongue and then pushing up against the roof of his mouth.
Neal gags a little and tears gather at the corners of his eyes but the john either doesn't notice or just doesn't care. Neal would bet a substantial amount on the later.
"You're a pretty thing, aren't you?" the john says as he finally pulls saliva-slick fingers out of Neal's mouth. "Now let’s see if I can't make you sing me a pretty little song as well..."
That’s when unease gives way to something closer to fear.
---
"Get out," Peter orders and the john – a family man with a ring on his finger and pictures of children in his wallet – almost falls off the bed, gathering up clothes and shoes before he half-runs, half-stumbles out of the room. He hasn’t paid yet but under the circumstances Neal figures it wouldn’t be prudent to mention it.
"And you, get up," Peter continues and Neal finds himself obeying just as quickly as the john had. He can feel Peter's eyes on him and his face flushes hot as he stares down at his own naked feet.
This has all been inevitable from the start, of course. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s ready for it all to end though. Digging blunt fingernails into the palm of his hand he forces himself to look up and meet Peter's gaze.
Looking away would be cheating.
"I can explain," he lies.
"Please don’t," Peter says, running a hand over the back of his neck. "Just… get dressed, will you? On second thought, no, shower first. And leave the door open. I don’t need you taking off naked through the window."
Neal turns and heads for the bathroom. It's not until he's under the spray of the hotel shower that he realizes that his hands are trembling. He stays where he is until the shaking stops, the water washing over him without making him feel any cleaner.
When he steps out some minutes later he does it knowing that the easy part is behind him.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Prostitution and, within that context, BDSM, drugs and dub-con.
Spoilers: Point Blank
Summary: For prompt five on the White Collar fest.
not for his sins, but by them
written by Whiplash
The first time is several months after Katie but just a few weeks after Mozzie.
The man who propositions him is fairly attractive in an expensive suit and a hair cut which compliments his angular face. Neal returns the smile and, after a few moments of hesitation, trails after the stranger to the restaurant bathroom.
They don't trade names. In fact, they barely speak at all. The stranger unzips while Neal licks the palm of his hand and wraps it around the already hard cock. All it takes is a few strokes before hot, white cum spills over Neal's hand and down the cuff of his shirt.
The man wipes his spent cock with a paper towel before tucking himself back into his trousers. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but instead just reaches for his money clip. He peels off a few bills and leaves them by the sink.
The sound of the door closing snaps Neal out of his trance; his mind suddenly churning alongside with his belly as he washes cum off his hands and dabs at the stains on his cuff.
---
He finds his next john in a small, private club just within his radius. The john – someone Neal's age this time, with artistically ripped jeans and a faded brand name t-shirt – slips on a condom before leaning back against the wall and giving Neal an expectant look.
"C'mon," he says, lazily pumping his cock. "I haven't got all night, you know."
Neal closes the space between them and kneels; the cheap linoleum floor hard and cold through the thin fabric of his slacks. The john wraps his hand in Neal's hair and pulls him closer, close enough for the familiar smell of another man's crotch to hit him right in the face. Memories flash through his mind and for a moment he almost balks.
"C'mon," the john repeats and Neal pushes everything away but the task at hand. Wrapping his lips around the tip of the cock he tastes rubber and hopes that muscle memory will keep him from gagging.
---
Actual penetration has always struck him as unnecessarily messy and complicated. And back in the day he just hadn’t ever seen the need to risk it; not when hand jobs and blow jobs had always been enough to keep him in food and paints.
Things are different now though. This time around he’s not in it for the money.
"Try one of these," the john says, digging through his jacket pocket for a few moments before pulling up a plastic bag with half a dozen tiny white pills. He wears a polyester suit, cheap shoes and a gaudy ring. "It'll make it better. Promise."
Neal blinks down at the pills, hesitating for half a moment before accepting one. After all, why not? He's already breaking all the rules in the book; his own as well as Peter’s. Flashing the john a wide small he tosses the pill back and swallows it dry.
The john laughs and drags him in for a kiss; wet and sloppy, not unlike getting licked by Satchmo. Neal swallows hard, almost losing his nerve before forcing himself to step closer. The man smells of cologne and sweat and Neal breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down a stubbly chin and over the man’s ear.
"Let’s take this to the bed," Neal finally mouths into the john's damp neck. The room is swaying and seems to be running low on air. “Let me show you how much I want this.”
Later on, he’ll only remember bits and pieces. Burrowing his head into the pillows to muffle the sounds and clawing at the sheets to keep from pushing the john away. The steady slap, slap, slap of skin against skin. Cold sweat pouring down his spine and then the john’s teeth against the nape of his neck.
He does it again a few days later, but without the drugs this time.
Anything else feels like cheating.
---
He lets the john cuff him to the head board. The agreement between them is simple – with a stress on absolutely no marking the skin – but still fairly generous and there's unease crawling just under Neal’s skin.
Looking up he meets the john's eyes – gray-blue under bushy eyebrows and a heavy brow – and offers up his very best smile. It's the same one which had won over June, Elizabeth and countless others. The john doesn't smile back though; just stares down at him with an almost tangible focus.
The john keeps staring as his hands traces Neal's chest; over his ribs, his collarbone, his sternum... seeking out bones and sharp, hard outlines. As Neal realizes he obligingly inhales deeply and is finally rewarded with a returned smile.
"Open your mouth," the john says so Neal opens wide, allowing thick fingers to slide past his lips and explore his mouth. The john's fingers rub against his gums and teeth, pressing down on his tongue and then pushing up against the roof of his mouth.
Neal gags a little and tears gather at the corners of his eyes but the john either doesn't notice or just doesn't care. Neal would bet a substantial amount on the later.
"You're a pretty thing, aren't you?" the john says as he finally pulls saliva-slick fingers out of Neal's mouth. "Now let’s see if I can't make you sing me a pretty little song as well..."
That’s when unease gives way to something closer to fear.
---
"Get out," Peter orders and the john – a family man with a ring on his finger and pictures of children in his wallet – almost falls off the bed, gathering up clothes and shoes before he half-runs, half-stumbles out of the room. He hasn’t paid yet but under the circumstances Neal figures it wouldn’t be prudent to mention it.
"And you, get up," Peter continues and Neal finds himself obeying just as quickly as the john had. He can feel Peter's eyes on him and his face flushes hot as he stares down at his own naked feet.
This has all been inevitable from the start, of course. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s ready for it all to end though. Digging blunt fingernails into the palm of his hand he forces himself to look up and meet Peter's gaze.
Looking away would be cheating.
"I can explain," he lies.
"Please don’t," Peter says, running a hand over the back of his neck. "Just… get dressed, will you? On second thought, no, shower first. And leave the door open. I don’t need you taking off naked through the window."
Neal turns and heads for the bathroom. It's not until he's under the spray of the hotel shower that he realizes that his hands are trembling. He stays where he is until the shaking stops, the water washing over him without making him feel any cleaner.
When he steps out some minutes later he does it knowing that the easy part is behind him.