kathierif_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kathierif_fic) wrote2011-09-27 09:50 pm
kathierif_fic) wrote2011-09-27 09:50 pm
Fic: Pretty Con(wo)man (White Collar, Peter/Neal/El, FRM)
Title: Pretty Con(wo)man
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Peter/Neal, Peter/Neal/Elizabeth
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary. Neal is unbelievable, even undercover.
A/N: For kink_bingo, prompt Crossdressing. 1469 words.
Neal Caffrey, Peter thinks, emotions swirling through him at a pace he can’t even begin to comprehend, is unbelievable.
Simply unbelievable.
Peter has no clue how Neal managed to set this up so quickly, although he has the strong suspicion that Mozzie played a big part in it. The guy knows where to get Russian surplus surveillance stuff. Getting a pantyhose is probably something he can do in his sleep.
Neal gives him a flirty smile and bats his lashes. They are ridiculously long where they fan out against his skin, and Peter forces his eyes away from Neal’s face and down, where a leg is pressed teasingly against his thigh.
Seconds later, he finds himself wishing he hadn’t.
Neal’s legs are bare and hairless, soft and smooth-looking, and he is wearing heels. There is a simple, elegant trap around his ankle and over the back of his foot, holding his open shoe in place, and Peter’s mouth runs dry at the sight.
There is nail polish on Neal’s toes and the long fingernails he’s now running teasingly along Peter’s arm. It’s a familiar shade, but Peter needs a few seconds to realize that El has the exact same shade of polish at home.
Neal’s ankles are slender, elegant and bare, so, Peter thinks, whatever scheme he came up with, Jones knows about it. It makes him feel better about the whole thing, even if he doesn’t know quite why.
“Neal, what are you doing?” he murmurs under his breath. Neal’s bright red lips stretch into a wide, familiar smile – this is Neal Caffrey at his most charming.
Usually, when that smile is directed at him, Peter rolls his eyes.
Right now, it makes something twist in his stomach, hot and liquid and almost overwhelming him. He doesn’t want to examine it too closely, this thing he feels for this version of Neal.
“Trust me, Peter,” Neal murmurs, his lips almost brushing Peter’s ear. It’s enough to make Peter shiver slightly and goose bumps starting to form on his forearms.
This is confusing. His body doesn’t know how to react, and Peter finds himself blushing fiercely when sharp teeth close around the lobe of his ear and tug slightly.
“Neal…” he says warningly. His eyes fall on the necklace Neal has put on when Neal leans close, and Peter’s heart flutters in his chest. “El is going to kill you.”
“My sister gave this to me,” Neal answers. He knows exactly where Peter’s looking, at the necklace that belongs to El. To everybody else, it must seem as if Peter is checking out Neal’s cleavage. It’s making him feel even more flustered than he already is.
He guesses the wig Neal put on does remind him a little bit of El.
“Your sister?” he repeats skeptically.
Neal flashes him another grin. “She said I might need it, hon,” he points out and brushes a long strand of dark hair out of his face. He even found the time to thin out his eyebrows, Peter thinks faintly as his eyes follow Neal’s hand to his forehead.
He rolls his eyes now.
“She knows about you doing this?” he asks. “All of it?” His eyes flicker over Neal’s body again, the high heels, the shaved legs, the dress, the breasts, the make-up, the wig.
“Oh, sure.” Neal looks at him, eyes wide and unblinking. He doesn’t look as innocent as he probably hopes he does, or Peter just knows him too well.
“Really.” His words drip with skepticism.
“Well.” Neal leans closer again, his breath hot against Peter’s cheek. “She knows I’m going to try and seduce you, but she doesn’t know it’s to save your ass from being spotted by a guy who steals paintings, deals with child pornography, smuggles Asian hookers and right now has a gun on you. Kiss me.”
Peter knows that their mark, the one he’s here to make contact with if an opportunity arises, isn’t the only one to watch them as he reaches up, puts his hand on the side of Neal’s face and brushes his lips against Neal’s. He wants to grab his hair, but he doesn’t know how much he can tug on the wig before giving their game away, and so he stops himself.
Neal’s lips are surprisingly soft against his, he can tell even if they share barely more than the chaste suggestion of a kiss. Under his fingertips and under long dark hair, he can feel the hint of a sharp edge in Neal’s ear – so Neal really is here on official business. As if there ever was any doubt about that.
Peter smiles slightly and puts his hand on Neal’s bare knee, his thumb brushing against the edge of Neal’s dress.
“You want to go somewhere more private?” Neal suggests, his voice husky and his face flushed slightly. Peter doesn’t know how much of it is arousal, how much the excitement of the game and how much it’s the heat in the room getting to him.
Neal Caffrey is unbelievable, Peter thinks again as he swallows and nods. He is an incredible actor and conman, and if Peter is honest, he has to admit that he wants to drag Neal to the restrooms, push that dress up and fuck him against the wall.
He won’t do it, of course. He’s on the job, so is Neal, and Jones and Diana are probably right outside, listening in to every word Neal and he are saying.
“Let’s go, Cinderella,” he says, and Neal gives him another flirty smile, grabs his purse – El’s purse, Peter thinks, Neal isn’t just wearing El’s jewelry and nail polish, but brought one of El’s purses, too – and leads Peter out of the club, his grip on Peter’s fingers reassuringly tight.
The cool night air helps clearing his mind, and he gives Neal a quick glance, enough to catch the small shiver and the goose bumps.
“It’s a summer dress,” Neal explains with a slight eyeroll when he catches him staring. “It was the only thing that fit.”
Before he can add anything else, they’re at the van, Jones is fiddling with the malfunctioning piece of surveillance equipment Peter had on him and Diana is giving him an update while eyeing Neal amusedly.
Finally, Peter nods. “Let me take Cinderella here home,” he says, “before it’s midnight. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Jones snickers and tosses Peter the anklet. “Don’t forget the glass slipper,” he says. “Night, Boss.”
Neal is quiet when he slips into Peter’s car, and Peter doesn’t try to start a conversation either. Occasionally, he glances over, and after a few moments, he puts his hand on Neal’s knee and squeezes gently.
Neal doesn’t object.
He also hasn’t wiped off the lipstick.
Peter’s lips are on Neal’s the second the door closes behind them. Neal tastes of lipstick and mint, and he moans breathlessly. Peter’s hands move restlessly over his body, fake breasts and fake hips and real ass, squeezing possessively. He only slows down when a familiar weight leans against his back and El’s arms slide around his waist.
“Oh, honey, I see you’ve met my sister Nellie,” she says with a grin, and seeing them next to each other, Peter realizes how much they really could be siblings, how much Neal’s masquerade resembles El. For a split second, he wonders if it that’s intentional, then he pushes the thought away.
Of course it is. This is Neal they are talking about, after all.
He definitely has a type, he realizes as El leans around him and kisses Neal, a type he falls for, and this, watching Neal and El kiss, feels like hitting the jackpot.
“I want to fuck you in that dress,” he murmurs into Neal’s ear. “I want to turn you inside out and make you scream.”
Neal whimpers. The sound does interesting things to Peter’s knees and to his cock, too.
“And then,” Peter continues as fingers press against the bulge in his pants and start to massage, his breath hitching, “I want to peel you out of it and watch El fuck you.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” El asks breathlessly and starts to tug them both toward the stairs.
Neal groans brokenly, as if the thought along is enough to wreck him. He is flushes, his make-up smeared, and the wig is sitting slightly askew on his head. El has pity on him and pulls him close as soon as they are in the bedroom. She removes the wig carefully and soothes him with a kiss, and in that moment, Peter suddenly realizes, again, how lucky he really is.
There are no words, and he doesn’t even try to find one. Instead, he wraps his arms around Neal and El and pulls both of them close.
~end.
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Peter/Neal, Peter/Neal/Elizabeth
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary. Neal is unbelievable, even undercover.
A/N: For kink_bingo, prompt Crossdressing. 1469 words.
Neal Caffrey, Peter thinks, emotions swirling through him at a pace he can’t even begin to comprehend, is unbelievable.
Simply unbelievable.
Peter has no clue how Neal managed to set this up so quickly, although he has the strong suspicion that Mozzie played a big part in it. The guy knows where to get Russian surplus surveillance stuff. Getting a pantyhose is probably something he can do in his sleep.
Neal gives him a flirty smile and bats his lashes. They are ridiculously long where they fan out against his skin, and Peter forces his eyes away from Neal’s face and down, where a leg is pressed teasingly against his thigh.
Seconds later, he finds himself wishing he hadn’t.
Neal’s legs are bare and hairless, soft and smooth-looking, and he is wearing heels. There is a simple, elegant trap around his ankle and over the back of his foot, holding his open shoe in place, and Peter’s mouth runs dry at the sight.
There is nail polish on Neal’s toes and the long fingernails he’s now running teasingly along Peter’s arm. It’s a familiar shade, but Peter needs a few seconds to realize that El has the exact same shade of polish at home.
Neal’s ankles are slender, elegant and bare, so, Peter thinks, whatever scheme he came up with, Jones knows about it. It makes him feel better about the whole thing, even if he doesn’t know quite why.
“Neal, what are you doing?” he murmurs under his breath. Neal’s bright red lips stretch into a wide, familiar smile – this is Neal Caffrey at his most charming.
Usually, when that smile is directed at him, Peter rolls his eyes.
Right now, it makes something twist in his stomach, hot and liquid and almost overwhelming him. He doesn’t want to examine it too closely, this thing he feels for this version of Neal.
“Trust me, Peter,” Neal murmurs, his lips almost brushing Peter’s ear. It’s enough to make Peter shiver slightly and goose bumps starting to form on his forearms.
This is confusing. His body doesn’t know how to react, and Peter finds himself blushing fiercely when sharp teeth close around the lobe of his ear and tug slightly.
“Neal…” he says warningly. His eyes fall on the necklace Neal has put on when Neal leans close, and Peter’s heart flutters in his chest. “El is going to kill you.”
“My sister gave this to me,” Neal answers. He knows exactly where Peter’s looking, at the necklace that belongs to El. To everybody else, it must seem as if Peter is checking out Neal’s cleavage. It’s making him feel even more flustered than he already is.
He guesses the wig Neal put on does remind him a little bit of El.
“Your sister?” he repeats skeptically.
Neal flashes him another grin. “She said I might need it, hon,” he points out and brushes a long strand of dark hair out of his face. He even found the time to thin out his eyebrows, Peter thinks faintly as his eyes follow Neal’s hand to his forehead.
He rolls his eyes now.
“She knows about you doing this?” he asks. “All of it?” His eyes flicker over Neal’s body again, the high heels, the shaved legs, the dress, the breasts, the make-up, the wig.
“Oh, sure.” Neal looks at him, eyes wide and unblinking. He doesn’t look as innocent as he probably hopes he does, or Peter just knows him too well.
“Really.” His words drip with skepticism.
“Well.” Neal leans closer again, his breath hot against Peter’s cheek. “She knows I’m going to try and seduce you, but she doesn’t know it’s to save your ass from being spotted by a guy who steals paintings, deals with child pornography, smuggles Asian hookers and right now has a gun on you. Kiss me.”
Peter knows that their mark, the one he’s here to make contact with if an opportunity arises, isn’t the only one to watch them as he reaches up, puts his hand on the side of Neal’s face and brushes his lips against Neal’s. He wants to grab his hair, but he doesn’t know how much he can tug on the wig before giving their game away, and so he stops himself.
Neal’s lips are surprisingly soft against his, he can tell even if they share barely more than the chaste suggestion of a kiss. Under his fingertips and under long dark hair, he can feel the hint of a sharp edge in Neal’s ear – so Neal really is here on official business. As if there ever was any doubt about that.
Peter smiles slightly and puts his hand on Neal’s bare knee, his thumb brushing against the edge of Neal’s dress.
“You want to go somewhere more private?” Neal suggests, his voice husky and his face flushed slightly. Peter doesn’t know how much of it is arousal, how much the excitement of the game and how much it’s the heat in the room getting to him.
Neal Caffrey is unbelievable, Peter thinks again as he swallows and nods. He is an incredible actor and conman, and if Peter is honest, he has to admit that he wants to drag Neal to the restrooms, push that dress up and fuck him against the wall.
He won’t do it, of course. He’s on the job, so is Neal, and Jones and Diana are probably right outside, listening in to every word Neal and he are saying.
“Let’s go, Cinderella,” he says, and Neal gives him another flirty smile, grabs his purse – El’s purse, Peter thinks, Neal isn’t just wearing El’s jewelry and nail polish, but brought one of El’s purses, too – and leads Peter out of the club, his grip on Peter’s fingers reassuringly tight.
The cool night air helps clearing his mind, and he gives Neal a quick glance, enough to catch the small shiver and the goose bumps.
“It’s a summer dress,” Neal explains with a slight eyeroll when he catches him staring. “It was the only thing that fit.”
Before he can add anything else, they’re at the van, Jones is fiddling with the malfunctioning piece of surveillance equipment Peter had on him and Diana is giving him an update while eyeing Neal amusedly.
Finally, Peter nods. “Let me take Cinderella here home,” he says, “before it’s midnight. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Jones snickers and tosses Peter the anklet. “Don’t forget the glass slipper,” he says. “Night, Boss.”
Neal is quiet when he slips into Peter’s car, and Peter doesn’t try to start a conversation either. Occasionally, he glances over, and after a few moments, he puts his hand on Neal’s knee and squeezes gently.
Neal doesn’t object.
He also hasn’t wiped off the lipstick.
Peter’s lips are on Neal’s the second the door closes behind them. Neal tastes of lipstick and mint, and he moans breathlessly. Peter’s hands move restlessly over his body, fake breasts and fake hips and real ass, squeezing possessively. He only slows down when a familiar weight leans against his back and El’s arms slide around his waist.
“Oh, honey, I see you’ve met my sister Nellie,” she says with a grin, and seeing them next to each other, Peter realizes how much they really could be siblings, how much Neal’s masquerade resembles El. For a split second, he wonders if it that’s intentional, then he pushes the thought away.
Of course it is. This is Neal they are talking about, after all.
He definitely has a type, he realizes as El leans around him and kisses Neal, a type he falls for, and this, watching Neal and El kiss, feels like hitting the jackpot.
“I want to fuck you in that dress,” he murmurs into Neal’s ear. “I want to turn you inside out and make you scream.”
Neal whimpers. The sound does interesting things to Peter’s knees and to his cock, too.
“And then,” Peter continues as fingers press against the bulge in his pants and start to massage, his breath hitching, “I want to peel you out of it and watch El fuck you.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” El asks breathlessly and starts to tug them both toward the stairs.
Neal groans brokenly, as if the thought along is enough to wreck him. He is flushes, his make-up smeared, and the wig is sitting slightly askew on his head. El has pity on him and pulls him close as soon as they are in the bedroom. She removes the wig carefully and soothes him with a kiss, and in that moment, Peter suddenly realizes, again, how lucky he really is.
There are no words, and he doesn’t even try to find one. Instead, he wraps his arms around Neal and El and pulls both of them close.
~end.