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Title: The Quick Blue Fox Jumps Over the Greedy Dog
Author: hurinhouse
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters: Peter/Neal
Summary: The biggest human temptation is to settle for too little. ~ Thomas Merton
Notes: Extremely super late for [livejournal.com profile] kanarek13.





Famished. He feels like a ravenous dog demolishing a pity meal in the alley behind a four-star, thrown a bone cut from the most tender high-end filet, barely keeping him from starving. The universe works that way sometimes, whether or not the hound deserves the temporary reprieve. He's seizing what little he can grab before the opportunity is lost.

"I always thought our first time would be in your bed."

Peter stops, tongue hovering over Neal's neck, fingers still rough, gripping the hair at the back of his head. Neal's breath flutters against his cheek and Peter can feel the muscles trembling with want as he allows Peter to devour him.

"You've thought about our first time?"

"More like subliminal flashes. We're walking along 7th for ten minutes, then a burst of my tongue on your chest. A half hour of a catatonic budget meeting, then a split second of your wet finger tapping my hole." Neal slowly breathes out the last two words.

"Oh my God." Peter has to pivot his hips from Neal's body, shove them against the cold metal cabinet next to them to stop from spilling. Neal's clothed cock chases his hip.

"You know," Neal shrugs, continuing mercilessly in his ear, "like commercials. You don't realize they're coming and then Bop - you can't think about anything but the thick sweet milkshake you want to get your slippery mouth on but can't reach through the tv."

Peter can't even process that last statement because... God. "You just... you shut the hell up about your hole."

Neal pulls back, skittish, detaching Peter's fingers from his hair. His eyes shift into barricades and he can't back up fast enough in this small supply closet on the 17th floor. He wonders what that just cost Neal, to have laid himself bare for Peter and been brought to heel by Peter's poorly chosen words.

But Neal plays the assumed rejection off as smooth as ever, saving face and collecting the hat he'd dropped when he'd baited Peter in here, moving toward the door. "Ah, I must have been misreading- "

"Oh hell no, you weren't." Peter pulls him back flush, cocks nesting against each other through the fabric of their slacks. "But I don't have any condoms. Or more importantly, lube."

"Oh, if that's all... " Neal's beautiful cheeky smile returns, cautious. "I know in which drawer Diana keeps her hand lotion."

Somehow, the quick barbaric hand job he'd been dreaming of for months isn't as urgent to Peter now that he knows he can have more. He's greedy. Instead of the one-time snack he'd thought he could make do with, he wants the entire buffet on a white tablecloth, with lifetime reservations to the feast. He's going to sample that fine spread as slowly, as thoroughly, as often as Neal will let him.

Neal's plump lips are wet and silken and oh so eager. The locks threaded through Peter's fingers feel softer now. "We don't need lube 'cause we're not going any further now. This is just a precursor."

"To?"

"Tonight. In my bed."

"Peter, you dog."


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