Surrender
Title: Surrender
Author: Afiawri
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter
Warnings: Bondage, Dominance/Submission
Word Count: 1,328
Thanks: To elrhiarhodan for a wonderful comment she made that brightened my day. I'll try to stay away from poisonous things and biting things and whatever other natural wonders my home town lacks.
The problem with Neal was it was nearly impossible to tie him up so he couldn’t escape. Peter figured out the trick to tying up Neal so he didn’t want to escape months ago, but this- this was the first time he’s managed it so Neal couldn’t.
He’d made Neal get down on his knees. Tied him up. Blindfolded him. Left him untouched.
More than forty-five minutes later, Neal was still bound.
Neal’s deliberately pitiful whimpers faded after the first few minutes when he realized Peter wasn’t answering- that he might not even be in the room anymore. He tried asking, “Peter?” once, checking. Peter’s never not responded to Neal when Neal can’t see him. Neal waited an extra beat in the silence.
That was when the smirk bloomed on Neal’s face. It looked so out of place on the same body with Neal’s cock, red and bound painfully bound with coarse ropes Neal had begged him not to use: “They’re cutting into me Peter, please, there’s a leather cock ring, it’ll work just the same.”
Peter had fettered his ankles together so he could watch Neal’s cock bounce and leak and turn darker as Neal struggled, looped the chain from each ankle fetter to each heavy metal ring around Neal’s wrists. All of it, the chains, the rings, the nipple clamps, was intentionally heavy. The same chain from his ankles wrapped around his chest. The nipple clamps there tightened with every tug.
Until Neal started twisting his wrists, turning his body, the clamps had been loose and light- pleasurable. Peter smirked when Neal’s body jerked with the first faint snick of the clamps. Neal smirked too and, if he knew Peter was there, would’ve told him he was impressed by how Peter had rigged this.
Peter tugged on his own cock, just once, just enough to tide him over until he could have Neal.
Neal moved carefully after that. His movements became as calculated as he could make them with his wrists suspended on chains and weighed down. Neal arched. Neal bent. Neal moved his body in ways Peter hadn’t thought were possible.
Neal, panting and looking defeated, rested. Peter thought he was done, thought that was all Neal had, that Neal wasn’t as stubborn and determined without an audience.
And then Neal did it all again, faster, more desperately, the tiny click of the clamps tightening once, twice more, loud under Neal’s harsh breaths. Neal jerked and writhed and twisted violently, nearly falling over, spreading his legs as he rose up off his heels as far as he could for more leverage, his naked body shinny with sweat, his cock even wetter with precome.
Neal struggled until he was gasping for breath, until his cheeks were nearly as red as his cock.
And then he stopped. He relaxed as much as he could. Peter waited, sure that Neal wasn’t done. Neal sat there, his right nipple pinched tighter than his left and both nowhere near as red as his cock. Peter pinched his own nipple, enjoying the light and easy touch.
Eventually, Neal’s breath evened out.
Peter waited, watching the clock. Minutes passed.
Nothing.
Neal shifted, settling his naked butt more comfortably against his heels. And settled.
Peter wasn’t ready to believe it, so he let it go on long past Neal resting his head on his chest.
He let it go on until Neal slipped. The clamps clicked several times in the space of a second, too fast to count, and Neal let out an anguish cry. The rings on his wrists had gotten too heavy. And now Neal’s right nipple was crushed in the clamp, squeezed so tight in its teeth it had to be excruciating. His left was still lightly clamped, almost gently caressed in comparison.
Neal whined softly and bent until he could almost- almost- rest his wrists on his back. And then held himself like that, strained more than necessary, but at least not about to slip again.
“You really can’t get out, can you?”
Neal didn’t start at Peter’s voice, just turned his blindfolded face towards him. Peter wondered if Neal really had known he was there all along.
“Ah. Not going to lie to me. But not going to confess either. Neal Caffrey never confesses.”
Peter pushed himself up from his chair and strode to Neal. Just because he could, he flicked Neal’s nearly purple shaft and smiled affectionately when Neal gritted his teeth. And then he did it again to watch it bounce. And then again because he was feeling petty.
Then Peter got down to business. His finger slid easily between Neal’s sweat soaked skin and the chain between his nipples. The cruel tug was effortless, Neal’s sharp cry beautiful. The looser one tightened. Good.
“You sure you can’t get out? Because I’m willing to let you try again.”
Neal said nothing. His tired smile wavered only for the barest second when Peter scraped his nails across Neal’s nipples. It stayed fixed while Peter tapped the more tortured of the two.
“Really, Neal? You can’t admit defeat? Even to me?”
Peter’s tug was more a sharp yank. The sound that left Neal’s mouth was inhuman; a yowl. Peter kept his finger hooked around the chain to drag it around Neal’s nipple, twisting one, stretching the other. Neal stared at him, resolute. Peter grabbed Neal’s cock and squeezed his hand over the ropes on the base, even let his nails drop to scrape over his balls. He earned himself nothing but an involuntary wince of pain.
“Fine.”
Peter grabbed the key and unlocked the ankle restraints and the wrist restraints, which he kept in his hands, keeping the weight off Neal’s nipples so Neal could rub his wrists and ankles and-
“Nah-ah.”
Neal paused with his hands half way to his nipples. “What?”
“Those stay on. Lean down, face pressed to the floor.” Peter moved the chains with Neal and dropped them on the floor beside him.
Neal laid down obediently, ass in the air, cheek pressed to the carpet. Peter admired the red impression from one of his heels, Neal’s nipples still clamped on a chain sprawling out on either side of his body, cock still bound, and the cautious tone of his question, “Peter?”
“You can’t ever admit when you’re wrong, can you?” The light smack on Neal’s ass was almost an insult to how much pain Peter had already put him through. Peter stepped on the chain as close to Neal’s nipples as he could, forcing Neal to bend down to relieve the pressure until the tip of his cock brushed the rough carpet. That had to sting. Good.
Neal sighed with relief when Peter slid two slick fingers in him. “What if I put a vibrator in here and left you like this?”
“I could escape this, easy.”
“Missing the point, Neal.” Peter shushed Neal’s every attempt to speak while he fucked Neal with his fingers, enough to get Neal rocking into each thrust. Peter even granted him a few pumps of his cock before pulling away to grab the vibrator.
“Wait.”
Peter paused with the vibrator’s tip pressed against Neal’s rim. He played it around Neal’s opening while Neal worked his way up to saying it.
“I… won’t admit defeat. But you win this round.”
Peter feels pride flare in his chest. That was more than he expected to get from Neal in such a short time. He knows it’s still an important distinction to Neal and they have some way to go. But Neal is slowly becoming Peter’s.
“Not good enough.” Peter shoved the vibrator home, cranked it up to full power, and stopped denying himself touch.
Neal never looked more beautiful and conquered then he did getting tortured by Peter’s vibrator, cock bound in Peter’s rope, chains spilling out to either side of his body. And then Peter coated Neal in his come. And then returned to his chair to watch.
Author: Afiawri
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Peter
Warnings: Bondage, Dominance/Submission
Word Count: 1,328
Thanks: To elrhiarhodan for a wonderful comment she made that brightened my day. I'll try to stay away from poisonous things and biting things and whatever other natural wonders my home town lacks.
The problem with Neal was it was nearly impossible to tie him up so he couldn’t escape. Peter figured out the trick to tying up Neal so he didn’t want to escape months ago, but this- this was the first time he’s managed it so Neal couldn’t.
He’d made Neal get down on his knees. Tied him up. Blindfolded him. Left him untouched.
More than forty-five minutes later, Neal was still bound.
Neal’s deliberately pitiful whimpers faded after the first few minutes when he realized Peter wasn’t answering- that he might not even be in the room anymore. He tried asking, “Peter?” once, checking. Peter’s never not responded to Neal when Neal can’t see him. Neal waited an extra beat in the silence.
That was when the smirk bloomed on Neal’s face. It looked so out of place on the same body with Neal’s cock, red and bound painfully bound with coarse ropes Neal had begged him not to use: “They’re cutting into me Peter, please, there’s a leather cock ring, it’ll work just the same.”
Peter had fettered his ankles together so he could watch Neal’s cock bounce and leak and turn darker as Neal struggled, looped the chain from each ankle fetter to each heavy metal ring around Neal’s wrists. All of it, the chains, the rings, the nipple clamps, was intentionally heavy. The same chain from his ankles wrapped around his chest. The nipple clamps there tightened with every tug.
Until Neal started twisting his wrists, turning his body, the clamps had been loose and light- pleasurable. Peter smirked when Neal’s body jerked with the first faint snick of the clamps. Neal smirked too and, if he knew Peter was there, would’ve told him he was impressed by how Peter had rigged this.
Peter tugged on his own cock, just once, just enough to tide him over until he could have Neal.
Neal moved carefully after that. His movements became as calculated as he could make them with his wrists suspended on chains and weighed down. Neal arched. Neal bent. Neal moved his body in ways Peter hadn’t thought were possible.
Neal, panting and looking defeated, rested. Peter thought he was done, thought that was all Neal had, that Neal wasn’t as stubborn and determined without an audience.
And then Neal did it all again, faster, more desperately, the tiny click of the clamps tightening once, twice more, loud under Neal’s harsh breaths. Neal jerked and writhed and twisted violently, nearly falling over, spreading his legs as he rose up off his heels as far as he could for more leverage, his naked body shinny with sweat, his cock even wetter with precome.
Neal struggled until he was gasping for breath, until his cheeks were nearly as red as his cock.
And then he stopped. He relaxed as much as he could. Peter waited, sure that Neal wasn’t done. Neal sat there, his right nipple pinched tighter than his left and both nowhere near as red as his cock. Peter pinched his own nipple, enjoying the light and easy touch.
Eventually, Neal’s breath evened out.
Peter waited, watching the clock. Minutes passed.
Nothing.
Neal shifted, settling his naked butt more comfortably against his heels. And settled.
Peter wasn’t ready to believe it, so he let it go on long past Neal resting his head on his chest.
He let it go on until Neal slipped. The clamps clicked several times in the space of a second, too fast to count, and Neal let out an anguish cry. The rings on his wrists had gotten too heavy. And now Neal’s right nipple was crushed in the clamp, squeezed so tight in its teeth it had to be excruciating. His left was still lightly clamped, almost gently caressed in comparison.
Neal whined softly and bent until he could almost- almost- rest his wrists on his back. And then held himself like that, strained more than necessary, but at least not about to slip again.
“You really can’t get out, can you?”
Neal didn’t start at Peter’s voice, just turned his blindfolded face towards him. Peter wondered if Neal really had known he was there all along.
“Ah. Not going to lie to me. But not going to confess either. Neal Caffrey never confesses.”
Peter pushed himself up from his chair and strode to Neal. Just because he could, he flicked Neal’s nearly purple shaft and smiled affectionately when Neal gritted his teeth. And then he did it again to watch it bounce. And then again because he was feeling petty.
Then Peter got down to business. His finger slid easily between Neal’s sweat soaked skin and the chain between his nipples. The cruel tug was effortless, Neal’s sharp cry beautiful. The looser one tightened. Good.
“You sure you can’t get out? Because I’m willing to let you try again.”
Neal said nothing. His tired smile wavered only for the barest second when Peter scraped his nails across Neal’s nipples. It stayed fixed while Peter tapped the more tortured of the two.
“Really, Neal? You can’t admit defeat? Even to me?”
Peter’s tug was more a sharp yank. The sound that left Neal’s mouth was inhuman; a yowl. Peter kept his finger hooked around the chain to drag it around Neal’s nipple, twisting one, stretching the other. Neal stared at him, resolute. Peter grabbed Neal’s cock and squeezed his hand over the ropes on the base, even let his nails drop to scrape over his balls. He earned himself nothing but an involuntary wince of pain.
“Fine.”
Peter grabbed the key and unlocked the ankle restraints and the wrist restraints, which he kept in his hands, keeping the weight off Neal’s nipples so Neal could rub his wrists and ankles and-
“Nah-ah.”
Neal paused with his hands half way to his nipples. “What?”
“Those stay on. Lean down, face pressed to the floor.” Peter moved the chains with Neal and dropped them on the floor beside him.
Neal laid down obediently, ass in the air, cheek pressed to the carpet. Peter admired the red impression from one of his heels, Neal’s nipples still clamped on a chain sprawling out on either side of his body, cock still bound, and the cautious tone of his question, “Peter?”
“You can’t ever admit when you’re wrong, can you?” The light smack on Neal’s ass was almost an insult to how much pain Peter had already put him through. Peter stepped on the chain as close to Neal’s nipples as he could, forcing Neal to bend down to relieve the pressure until the tip of his cock brushed the rough carpet. That had to sting. Good.
Neal sighed with relief when Peter slid two slick fingers in him. “What if I put a vibrator in here and left you like this?”
“I could escape this, easy.”
“Missing the point, Neal.” Peter shushed Neal’s every attempt to speak while he fucked Neal with his fingers, enough to get Neal rocking into each thrust. Peter even granted him a few pumps of his cock before pulling away to grab the vibrator.
“Wait.”
Peter paused with the vibrator’s tip pressed against Neal’s rim. He played it around Neal’s opening while Neal worked his way up to saying it.
“I… won’t admit defeat. But you win this round.”
Peter feels pride flare in his chest. That was more than he expected to get from Neal in such a short time. He knows it’s still an important distinction to Neal and they have some way to go. But Neal is slowly becoming Peter’s.
“Not good enough.” Peter shoved the vibrator home, cranked it up to full power, and stopped denying himself touch.
Neal never looked more beautiful and conquered then he did getting tortured by Peter’s vibrator, cock bound in Peter’s rope, chains spilling out to either side of his body. And then Peter coated Neal in his come. And then returned to his chair to watch.