Work Text:
Title: Five Times Neal Caffrey Ended Up In Peter and Elizabeth's Bed
Author: Ursula
Rating: rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Peter/Elizabeth/Neal
Spoilers: None
Notes: Written for a request on Collar Kink " I want "Five times Neal ended up in the Burke's bed" with only one (maybe two) actually being sex. Preferably the final being OT3, while some of the others having El helping him, Peter helping him, or even the dog. It could be any reason like migraines, house arrest, injured, etc."
Warnings: Het AND slash sex
Word Count:
Summary: I think the title says all.
1. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Five Times Neal Caffrey Ended Up In Peter and Elizabeth's Bed
OooOooO
The first time Neal ended up in Peter and El's bed, he wasn't actually in it so much as he was under it or between it or whatever.
It was Sunday. Normal people mowed the lawn on Sunday or so Neal was told. They had Sunday brunch and read fat newspapers with comics. Some went to church.
Peter Burke worked.
Peter Burke was a workaholic.
Peter was more than a workaholic. He was a pusher of work. He forced work on innocent indentured servants of the FBI like Neal.
The only payoff was that Elizabeth Burke was an excellent cook. She baked cookies too and Neal had a little boy passion for cookies that was exceptionally embarrassing, especially since Peter knew about it. Peter did not deserve her. If Neal had a wife like that, he would spend Sunday in bed with her and only let her up to cook dinner and bake cookies. He certainly would not bring his files home on the theory that he was somehow being a good husband because he was in the house, not in the office.
Peter scrabbled through the files and grouched, "Where's that account summary?"
"It's..." Neal tried to remember. He envisioned being at the office and gathering papers. He said, "Jones had it. You had Jones working on it."
"Oh," Peter said, grabbing his cell phone and hitting Jones' auto dial.
"There's no answer," Peter complained.
"Jones went out of town, skiing," Neal said.
"He did?" Peter asked.
"Yes, people do that sort of thing, go skiing, go see relatives, meet up with lovers," Neal explained as if to a singularly obtuse child. Not that Peter was obtuse except about work.
"You stay here," Peter said. "You can't go skiing or go out of town. You have to stay here."
"Don't gloat, Peter," Neal said, "It's not a good look on you."
"Tell Elizabeth I'll be right back," Peter said.
"Okay," Neal said, picking up the personal profiles on the suspects. Satchmo snuffled up to him as Peter left, nosing under the files for cookie crumbs.
The dog was the other perk besides Elizabeth, Elizabeth's cookies and dinner making, and Elizabeth, which he knew he repeated, but she was worth listing at least twice. Neal loved dogs and he always wanted one, but his lifestyle did not permit it, what with the fleeing and all.
El came down the stairs, saying, "Peter Jason Burke, you get right up here and..."
"He escaped," El said, looking around. "Neal, how difficult would it be to have Peter fitted with one of those tracking bracelets? I need one."
"He could have mine," Neal offered.
"Sweetie," El said. "I told Peter that we had to turn the mattress today. I told him we should get one of the newer versions that never need to be turned, but does the man listen ever?"
"Hey, El, you got him out of the old rush mattress and bear skin. You're good," Neal said cheerfully.
"So could you come up to our bedroom and help me turn it?"
"You have no idea how long I have been waiting for you to invite me into your bedroom," Neal teased, getting up. El slapped his ass for saying that as they went up the stairs. That wasn't bad either. "I thought Peter would be the spanky one. Interesting."
"Neal, you are in a really fascinating mood," El said. "Too bad I am in the mood to clean house."
Satchmo plodded up the stairs with them. El said, "So we just have to flip it so I can remake it. I want it turned around too so it wears evenly."
"I know," Neal said, although he could not recall sleeping in the same bed long enough to have to turn the mattress.
His arm was just a tad weak from the sprain. The bad guy had grabbed Neal as a hostage. Neal had done this unbelievably good flip thing and saved the day. He sprained his arm, but it was worth it for the way Peter hugged him and told everyone at the office exactly what Neal had done with this proud look on his face.
So the mattress turning was going okay until Satchmo barked and appeared to think it was the best game ever. He jumped on the mattress. El dropped it. Somehow Neal was trapped underneath with Satchmo bounding on top, refusing to get down and trying to sniff Neal through the mattress.
Peter arrived to rescue Neal shortly and was so amused that he forgot to work for the rest of the day. He kept accusing Neal of looking to see if Peter and El kept money between the mattress and the box springs.
Worse of all, Peter told Moz who kept looking at Neal and laughing for the next week.
OooOooO
The second time Neal ended up in Peter and Elizabeth's bed; they were definitely not in it. Definitely because they were at El's sister who was getting married. El had insisted that Peter take the three days off to go and then the kennel that was supposed to take Satchmo was over booked and they could not find another. Of course, Neal had volunteered. He had suggested the solution anyway before the kennel called. Or before Neal had bribed the kennel help to make the call. Which ever sounded better.
Poor Satchmo, the dog was innocent. Why send him to jail? Neal wasn't buying that the kennel was upscale. The prison in which Neal was incarcerated was hand selected by Peter as safe. It might have been safe, but it was still perfectly awful.
Now ensconced in Peter and Elizabeth's bed, Neal grinned as Satchmo put one paw up on the bed. Satchmo was not supposed to be up on the bed, but Neal was supposed to be in the guest room so it was all good or it was all bad. Neal sometimes had a little difficulty telling the difference between the two. Neal thought that life needed Cliffs Notes for the hard parts like not stealing, not conning, and not scheming about how to get into this bed when it was occupied properly by Peter and Elizabeth. Oh, yeah, and telling right from wrong.
Neal was a bright guy, but it often struck him that what was supposed to be good like turning the original painting over to the museum curator, who definitely knew to whom it really belonged, was not very obviously the correct choice at all. Whereas allowing the granddaughter, who looked like the painter's illegitimate daughter, to have what was her obvious inheritance was wrong. Peter understood these things very well, but when he tried to explain to Neal, something was lost in the translation.
Peter's explanations sounded pretty much like this to Neal:
"Blah blah blah FBI blah blah send you back to prison blah blah blah if you behave yourself, I'll take you home to my wife and we'll both fuck you silly."
Well, maybe Neal misheard the last. He was not a native speaker of right and wrong you have to understand.
Anyway, Satchmo put both paws on the bed and, in for an inch, in for a mile. Neal patted the bed and the big yellow lab joined him, putting his heavy head on Neal's chest and breathing hot doggy breath in his face. Neal didn't mind at all. He slept the best sleep he had in ages and, here, in this bed, he did not dream of Kate at all.
OooOooO
Having found neither Neal nor Satchmo in the guest room, Peter and El tip toed into their own bedroom where both culprits were found. There was Neal with his curls sweat- spiked, his mouth open with pink lips parted as if for a kiss. There was Satchmo wagging his tail, thump, thump on the bed, but not willing to get up as he snuggled sweetly with the thief of hearts.
Peter, of course, was inclined to haul Neal out of bed and dump him outside in the cold, but Elizabeth won and let him sleep until Satchmo woke him, bounding up on the bed after his trip outside and licking Neal's face until Neal sputtered and woke laughing.
Neal refused to even consider an apology, but did change the sheets.
OooOooO
The third time that Neal ended up in Peter and El's bed, they were in it, but he was in no shape to appreciate it. He had the mumps. Yes, the mumps. How was he to know that he never had them? His immunizations were lost in some dusty old file in the New York foster care system. If you call that a system...
Like most of Neal's problems, it started with the best of intentions. His favorite clerk in accounting, Koko Shelton, had another of those problems with day care. This one was that her adorable little daughter, Tika, had a fever and was not feeling well enough to go to day care. This time Neal had a brilliant new idea on how to elude Peter's wrath while he babysat.
He asked.
They were doing nothing but working on old cases; the city was suffering from a heat wave. Every sensible con artist, paper hanger, and art thief was plying their trade in some place cooler or at least, where there was better air conditioning than New York in a brown out.
Peter was amused by the idea of Neal, the baby sitter, and gave him permission for him to go to Koko's apartment to baby sit Tika. He was even interested enough to drop by and check on them, finding Neal unashamedly watching the Muppets, eating popsicles, and not minding too much that Tika was trying to braid his hair with sticky hands.
Two days later when Neal was just realizing that his headache was not responding to Tylenol and that ice water was not helping how hot he felt, Koko called and asked, "Neal, have you had the mumps?"
Searching his memory which was cloudy about his early childhood due to the number of homes in which he lived, Neal finally said, "I must have had them, but I don't really remember. Why?"
"Tika has the mumps and you have been exposed," Koko replied.
Neal did not want to tell Peter after looking up his symptoms on med net and confirming that his aching bones, his fever, his nausea, and his decidedly puffy cheeks were the mumps. June was out of town, Moz was ...Moz was doing whatever Mozs do when Neals don't need them. Neal was on his own and he was too miserable to suffer in silence or by himself.
Peter called El. El dragged Neal, whining and sulking, to the doctor who said that there was nothing much that he could do.
As it turned out, Tika had been vaccinated, but every once in a while, the vaccine failed.
Neal was fortunate, El said, that he was not one of the thirty percent of men who were unlucky enough to suffer inflammation of his testicles. He could agree with that, but he felt very sorry for himself none the less.
Neal started his residence at the Burkes in the guest room, but had fever nightmares that the neighbor actually heard due to Neal's unfortunate screams. He did not have nightmares when he slept between Peter and Elizabeth. If he was rather smug about his migration, that really was excusable as he was in a delicate condition.
The worst thing about having the mumps was getting well and having to go home.
OooOooO
The fourth time that Neal ended up in Peter and Elizabeth's bed was nearly the last. The team was under a threat from a rather violent offender who met the qualification for a white collar criminal in that he was accused of stock fraud. However, this guy had some serious mental health issues and had threatened to kill everyone who had anything to do with his arrest.
Not wanting to endanger June and still hoping to spend a night with Peter and Elizabeth when he did not have hideously swollen cheeks, Neal had readily volunteered to steer danger away from June by staying with them. Peter liked it because it meant that much more protection for El and also because he worried about Neal since Neal had played a major role in capturing Stoddard, the perp, in question.
It was what Neal formerly would have considered a stodgy evening. There was a family meal, Peter, of course, dragooning some after-hours work out of Neal, and then a glass of wine, quiet conversation, and El gently carding her fingers through Peter's hair, which filled Neal with longing and envy although he was entirely unsure whether he wanted to be Peter or El in the situation.
El had whispered something to Peter, who shook his head, but then sighed, tried to shrug in a prone position and said, "Let's go up to bed, El, Neal,"
Neal was not steered to the guest room and no one suggested that he wear anything but his best birthday suit which really was even more adorable than a Devore. Everything was going well what with the kissing, the licking, the hiccups...that was Peter who was extremely embarrassed, but Neal knew this great cure for them, which consisted of kissing Peter's breath away.
Satchmo started to bark loudly just when things were really getting good. Before anyone could get their head out of bed to go shut him up, the guy with the gun burst into the room, waving it around, asking Peter which one of his pretty blue eyed lovers he wanted to lose.
Peter tried to talk the guy down, telling him that so far he was just looking at five to ten years and that he could do okay, rebuild his life afterwards, which Neal could have told Peter was not going to go so well. When you are looking at a long prison sentence, that's all you can see. The future is way out of range of your sight.
Guy's wife left him and went to a battered women's freedom train with the five kids the moment the guy was arrested. He was not going to have her or the kids to punch, kick, humiliate or break the bones thereof when he got out.
Hey, could Neal help it if he knew this hell of a tough lady who thought he was sweet? And if she happened to be a conductor on the battered woman network, what of it?
All he did was leave a card, a pamphlet, and point out to the lady the way the oldest girl shook when her father was in the room.
That was all.
OooOooO
When Stoddard was swiveling the gun around, Neal got out of bed, wishing he was not naked now. "Hey," Neal said, "I'm the one you want if you have to shoot someone, which I really would not advise. I'm the one that told your wife to leave you. I helped her, bought her a ticket to Canada."
There was no way that Neal wanted the guy to have a clue where his family went, which was not Canada.
"Neal!" Peter's voice warned.
El just let out a little frightened gasp that made Neal more determined to protect her, whatever it took.
"Why?" Stoddard asked.
"You know why; you really do," said Neal.
Yeah, Stoddard knew but that didn't mean he accepted any responsibility. "You broke up my family. You took them."
Neal's eyes flickered to Satchmo who was standing in the hallway behind Stoddard. That dog loved everyone. Satchmo, as Peter said, would give a burglar a tour of the house and offer to fetch for him. Satchmo however was having a moment. Neal stepped further yet from the bed and El, who must be protected at all costs. He could see Peter getting ready to jump Stoddard and he didn't want it to happen. Peter too must be protected. Which left Neal who would like to be protected but something had to give and he would be that something.
Three things. Satchmo coming to a conclusion that he did not like every human being he met. Neal taking a step toward Stoddard and Peter making a low run at the guy to tackle him. Satchmo leaping from behind with an awesome snarl and a growl coming from the dawn of time rumbling from his chest.
A fourth thing. The gun shot and there was no Book of Hours to protect Neal. The bullet tore into him and Neal was pirouetting like a ballet dancer. He took a step, so dizzy, there was blood on fire burning in his chest. Neal knew he meant to go away from the bed, but somehow had gone back towards it. He reached out a hand to catch himself and he tumbled down on the bed, face down. His blood was pumping out and Neal smiled slightly, thinking that El would have a reason to buy that mattress that never needed to be turned because now she would never get Neal out of her bed. He stained it deep.
A fifth thing, waking up really, really sore and miserable. His mouth felt wooly and his stomach was as nauseous as he had been with the mumps. His eyelashes were matted together as if he had been crying and, if he had not been weeping, he certainly felt like doing it now because it hurt. His shoulder felt as if he had been volunteered to be a tackling dummy for a pro football team. Someone should shut up whoever was making that incessant low moan. Oh hell, it was Neal himself.
Someone kissed his hand. Neal pried open his eyes and surprise. It was El pacing the room and Peter sitting next to him, his lips pressed to Neal's hand. Neal drew a breath that he swore somehow stabbed ice picks through his chest. "How long?"
"A week," Peter whispered. "You've been awake a couple times before, but you weren't talking."
"How bad?" Neal asked.
"You're going to be fine," Peter assured.
A clump of something stuck in Neal's throat, which felt raw and scraped. Oh, he must have had a breathing tube for a while. Wow, and not in a good way.
"I must have been," Neal started, but his head was all wooly and he felt the urge for a long nap in the middle of his question. He was a hedonist and he....
OooOooO
The next time, Neal woke, it was El holding his hand but she was asleep. Her head was pillowed on her arm and her face was smooshed where it pressed down. Neal thought she looked like a sleeping princess anyway. He tried to say her name but a croak came out.
"Hey," Peter said, looking down at them. Did you know 'hey' can sound like a love sonnet, like a world of warmth? It did the way Peter said it.
"Hey," Neal repeated because if it worked for Peter...
"Need a drink of water," Neal informed Peter.
"Okay," Peter said, holding up a glass with one of those strange hospital straws in it. "Just a little. Careful."
"It was really bad," Neal said now that his mouth and throat were lubricated. "Wasn't it?"
"Nicked some pretty important blood vessels," Peter said. "Guess what?"
"What?" Neal said.
"You're getting a full pardon," Peter said.
"What?" Neal repeated again, because that did not make sense to him.
"Wounded in the line of duty and you damn near died," Peter explained. "Hughes put the paperwork in and you're getting the full meal deal. Clean slate, no more tracking device. You can run off after Kate as soon as you are well enough."
"Or move in with you and Elizabeth?"
Peter's smile started in his eyes, rose like dawn at the corner of his lips, and was a sun burst over his face. "Or move in with El and I."
"Good deal," Neal said. "What about my job? Can I keep my job? You need someone to watch over you."
"That can be arranged," Peter said.
El woke up, embarrassed, trying to straighten that mass of hair and mussing it more, which Neal thought was so enticing that he urged his body to heal on the spot. "You're awake."
"You too," Neal remarked because he was so debonair and witty.
"Neal says we need to go for the king sized bed in our room," Peter said.
"I told you so," El said before kissing Neal on his lips that were dry from hospital air.
OooOooO
The fourth time Neal ended up in Peter and Elizabeth's bed; he was so weak that he could barely walk from bed to bathroom even with Peter's help. He was woozy from pain medication and light headed. Sex was so far from his mind ....no, he could still think about sex. How could you share a bed with Peter and El and not think about it? He just was not capable of doing anything about it for the first week home from the hospital.
After the end of five days home, Neal woke up feeling much better and decided to take advantage of his situation. He reached for Peter who was nearest and stroked a tender line down his strong back. Peter woke, turned around, propping himself up on an arm and asked, "Are you sure?"
"Uh huh," Neal said, hopefully.
"Gentle now," Peter told someone, maybe himself. He drew the covers down and ever so tenderly kissed the skin near the pucker of scar that Neal hoped would fade, but not entirely go away. It was Neal's badge of courage after all.
El cradled him, taking his mouth in a kiss that was gentle and forceful, which was interesting as that was how Neal imagined Peter would kiss him. It struck him that possibly the two of them were mind melding over his body. (Too much original Star Trek watched thanks to Moz.)
Peter gave each of his nipples some attention and they stood tightly up for more. El played with them as she murmured things in Neal's ear which shocked him and delighted him. Who knew El would be a fabulous dirty talker except El did most things fabulously with the exception of picking pockets, a skill Neal tried very hard to teach her. His mind was treacherously wandering these last few days. From sex to pickpockets in no time flat.
Peter helped him concentrate by laving his cock from base to tip, around, back, and then oh oh oh all the way around him. Of course, Peter was brilliant at sucking cock. Was he not brilliant at everything?
Peter reached up and El bent down, sucking Peter's finger like it was Neal's cock. Neal confused, greedy, and delighted wondered if he could get them to take turns on him. No, El distracted him with a kiss that took his breath away. Peter's finger petted its way inside him and Neal was moaning in such a good way that Satchmo started howling in sympathy outside the door.
Then Peter was stepping up the pace and El was taking Neal's pleasure into her own mouth, all his cries uttered into her, and he was hers as Peter was hers. The way it should be. The way it was. His poor body so weary that was all he could take, one jet of himself swallowed in Peter's mouth, nothing left in his weakness to reciprocate except with his soft statement, "I love you. I love you both."
"I know. We know," uttered in one voice.
And that was the fourth time that was a promise of all the times to come.
OooOooO
The fifth time Neal ended up in Peter and Elizabeth's bed, he belonged there.
So maybe it was not the fifth time, but you could hardly count the long weeks of getting his health to slowly return. And the sex was great but Peter and El treated him like a Faberge egg instead of putting him in the middle of a Neal sandwich as he had dreamed about.
When they took the anklet off, someone felt the need to point it out to Hughes that Neal was living with Peter and El. Hughes had called Neal into the office to spend three days with a psychiatrist because the bureau chief thought Neal had Stockholm syndrome. The diagnosis was that Neal had an incurable case of true love instead. Hughes had rolled his eyes, chewed Peter out, scolded Neal and then blamed it on El, whom he had described as a subversive force of chaos in Peter's life. Neal resented that; it was his job description!
Peter was sent out of town for a major case while Neal was still learning to breathe again without wincing. Peter solved said case and got an award which essentially was a free pass to do anything he pleased. Neal and El in his bed was what he pleased.
Hughes commissioned Neal as a very special agent, but there was the academy training thing. Hughes had to override every standard procedure for Neal to attend and Neal was sentenced to twenty two weeks of life in a fraternity that didn't appreciate sharing their elite status with a pardoned felon.
Neal spent the next five months tired and wired from the Quantico training He had aced the classes, of course. The ones involving physical conflict and fire arms Neal didn't like but put his head into Peter's mind set and passed acceptably.
After graduation, Neal was supposed to wait for a plane, but found out that one of the agents had a sugar mama who was flying him home to New York. Neal hitched a ride as the guy was one of his few friends at the academy.
Neal picked the lock because he forgot his keys. Satchmo was at the door, happily thumping his tail. Peter stood there looking at his watch and critically said, "You're slowing down. That took you forty five seconds."
As soon as the door shut, two pairs of greedy hands were undressing him. Neal dropped his bag and tried to pet Satchmo while his clothing was removed at alarming speed. Peter said, "Satchmo, wait your turn. He's ours."
"Ours," El said, gazing satisfied at Neal, naked, pretty much stupid with lust, his cock obviously surrendering to her as it was reaching for the sky.
"You," Neal declared, looking from lover to lover, "You both are not nearly naked enough."
Racing up the stairs, El's bra ended up on the top of the bookcase. Peter's briefs ended up on Satchmo's back and would probably end up eaten, causing a trip to the vet. The rest of their clothing was in a heap, looking as if something dissolved at the foot of the stairs.
Oh, that new bed was sturdy and the mattress was going to have some great things to remember with its memory foam. The choreography was by love and Neal was in the middle, surrounded and loved. It made perfect sense for El to delicately play inside him, fitting him for Peter, telling him how beautiful he was and how much Peter was going to love fucking him. It made sense for Peter to guide him into El and then to take Neal, as roughly as Neal wanted it, as totally as only Peter could. Senses exploding, the sweetness of El surrounding him, the strength of Peter inside him as if all of his lover would stay there, leaving no emptiness, no doubt, no more grief.
Neal felt El hold him tight and arch. He responded with control he did not know he had. He rose slightly despite the down stroke from Peter and changed his angle, pulling slightly out before surging back with just the right amount of force. El let out a sound that might have been pain but was not. "Neal, Peter, Neal, Peter," she cried to them both as if Neal's cock connected she and Peter as it filled her. Peter changed angle too and now he was hitting Neal just right. It was almost too much and Neal was uttering hoarse, pitiful cries for less, for more, for everything that Peter might want from him. Faster, harder, on the edge, over, Neal coming. El coming. Peter holding Neal so tightly. "Give me, give me, I want...Neal, I want you."
Neal's words failed. He felt Peter come inside him, the hot come anointing him as his had El. No barriers. Nothing ever between them. Three. One.
The fifth time Neal ended up in Peter and Elizabeth's bed was forever.
The end