It seemed so harmless at the time. The chocolate bunnies on Peter's desk had been staring at him for days. They were taunting him, flicking their little ears. It would only be one set of ears. Just one. He wouldn't eat them. No, he would just touch them. He was a mature man, at least he thought he was, and he could resist. Neal tried to concentrate as the angel on his shoulder was telling him to behave. It was reminding him that he was good and he should be able to resist. Peter was a friend – and more- and friends didn't eat the ears off other friend's bunnies. He angerly bit into the carrots El had sent along as a snack. He thought the doctor was silly for telling Peter Neal needed to cut down on sugar. Neal felt chocolate, though sweet, wasn't sugar. Chocolate was a health food, all the doctors on TV said so.

His little devil was laughing. He reminded Neal that neither Peter or El had thought that he was fat last night. The actual words had been something along the lines of an 'insatiable stallion'. Those were hardly associated with being fat. Also, if Peter had left that big basket of chocolate bunnies on his desk, they must be for everyone. It wasn't as if Peter was hiding them or locking them up. They were in plain view. He grunted and took another bite of carrot. Oh who the heck was he kidding? He was the King of con-artisits but he couldn't convince himself that a carrot was anything other then a carrot. He couldn't convince himself that a celery stick was anything other then celery either.

He was hungry and the bunnies were torture.

"Neal. Jones and I have to go check out a lead. Go into my office and run some checks on the computer." Peter called from his office. Neal wanted to cry. He was already barely resisting temptation from a distance. Now, he was being called on to be some kind of a Hercules of self-denial. Neal knew he didn't believe in self-denial. The concept was totally foreign to him.

"Do I have to?" Neal winced as even he could tell he was whining in desperation. Peter hated it when he whined.

"Yes. Now quit playing around. Grab the Hernandez file and get up here so I can show you what I want you to do." He could tell by Peter's voice without looking that Peter was frowning at him.

"Coming. I'm coming." Neal grabbed the Hernandez file and prepared to march upstairs to his doom. He now understood how men preparing to meet a firing squad or the electric chair felt.

"What has gotten into you today? If I didn't know better, I would swear you're joining El in suffering PMS. Whatever it is, just cowboy up and get over it. I can't take living with two drama queens at the same time." Peter groused leading Neal into the office.

Neal really hated being told to 'cowboy up', almost as much as he hated being called a drama queen. He felt like coming to work sometime decked out like a full-on drag queen just to see Peter's reaction. He didn't know if he would ever have the guts to do it. Peter would either be turned on, in which it would be a great morning for Neal, or it would put him in a dark mood thinking Neal was disrespecting him, in which case it would be a lousy morning. The sight of the strap Peter kept hung on the other side of the door made his stomach knot.

"I'm not a cowboy."

"I know you're not a cowboy. It's an expression. Now, I brought up the database."

"I know how to run checks. I think you just wanted the view of my butt walking in your office."

"No, that's just a nice fringe benefit. I have ten minutes before I leave and"

"You want to make made, passionate monkey love in the office?" Neal asked hopefully. He knew it was totally dangerous but that was one of the things that made it so kinky.

"No. I want to make sure you're working before I go. The mad, passionate monkey love comes later – at home. Now, mind out of the gutter and work."

"Work my ass." Neal groused. He could feel Peter's eyes and they were nowhere near the monitor or the heyboard.

"Tonight." Peter joked, looking a little annoyed when Jones called out that it was time to leave.

Neal, oh Neal, we're only now. Look at all our shiny, glistening brown goodness.

He wouldn't listen to the bunnies. He was going to focus on the work at hand.

He told you to cowboy up. You hate that. He thinks you're being a drama queen, and drama queens like chocolate. They like lots and lots and lots of chocolate. We can make anything go away.

He began to whistle. He began to count to 100, in every language that he knew. He tried to imagine Mozzie sunbathing nude on the roof. Nothing was working. He kept hearing the siren song of the bunnies.

It's just a touch. You don't have to eat anything. He won't even know you touched us. It can be just a gentle, easy glide. We'll feel so smooth and silky. You love smooth and silky.

He switched into desperation mode. He thought of Satchmo's breath in the morning. He thought of Peter's deviled ham sandwiches. He thought of Elizabeth sending them out to the store yesterday at 2am. He thought of Hughes stripping and doing the Macarena on the table of the Conference Room with the shades all the way up. He thought of Cruz eating an onion and garlic sandwich while Jones serenaded everyone dressed like Zorro and playing the bagpipes. He tried to channel his inner Vulcan. Vulcans were immune to chocolate bunnies.

You poor simpleton. Spock is only HALF Vulcan and his human half loves us. He sits back and munches on our ears all day. Besides, you are doing this to help Peter. Peter needs you to think. Chocolate avoids hunger and the anti-oxidents will make your brain think better. See? See our pretty little ears and tails? See them waving at you? We know you want it. We can see you're drooling. It'll only be one.

Neal realized he was gone. The bunnies were making total sense. He also hadn't tasted a chocolate bunny in years. No one gave them bunnies in prison. Kate never gave him bunnies and Mozzie believed they were subversive agents. He couldn't resist a touch. It was a bunny basket of Peter Rabbit. It had representations in chocolate of Floppsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and Peter. He couldn't touch Peter. It wouldn't be right to touch Peter. Peter deserved the honors of devouring him. No, he would just touch the ears on one of the sisters. They were pretty meaningless to the story anyway.

He did an 'eenie, meenie, meine, mo' and by process of elimination, Flopsy was selected as the virgin sacrifice. Oh she looked so cure. Neal swore she was shamelessly batting her little white and blue eyes at him while beckoning with her ears. They were so long, slender, and silky. They didn't come to a hard point. No, they were docked into this cute little curve, so gentle and flowing. Neal couldn't control himself and snapped off the ears.

He savored each and every bite. It felt and tasted so good.

"NEAL!"

Neal was pulled out of his chocolate reverie by the sharp voice of Peter. He noted that Peter sounded really mad. This wasn't annoyed mad. This was whupping mad. This was steam coming out of his ears mad. Neal didn't really understand it. It was only a chocolate bunny.

Peter ripped the remains of Flopsy out of Neal's hand. He grabbed Neal's wrist with one hand and the strap with the other. He dragged Neal into the conference room, making sure the shades were all closed. He locked the door.

"Drop them."

:"What?"

"Drop them. You heard me. Don't play stupid with me."

"Ah, is this the monkey sex?"

"Shut up and drop them. I don't fuck common thieves." Peter growled.

"I'm not a thief!"

"That was MY property you had in your hand. It was property that belonged to me. I didn't give it to you. That makes it stolen property. I caught you in possession of stolen property. I could send your ass back to prison."

"You would send me to prison for a chocolate bunny, or more specifically for the ears off a chocolate bunny?"

Peter grabbed Neal and flung him into the conference table, deliberately hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He spun Neal around and bent him so that his butt was in the air and his chin was on the able. Peter viciously grabbed Neal's pants and jerked them down, oblivious to the sound of the fabric tearing. He pulled down the boxers, not carrying to listen to Neal's scared whimper. He was glad right now he was scaring Neal. He wanted to scare Neal. He wanted to place the fear of it all in Neal so that the next time Neal came near temptation, he would think twice about it and resist. Peter had deliberately purchased and left the bunnies on his desk as an exercise. This time it was only bunny ears that tempted Neal. Peter had to trust that if the next time it was a priceless painting, or shiny jewelry, or a sexy body in tight clothes, Neal could exercise the necessary self-control. He knew one day he could get Neal to resist it on his own, but for right now, he wanted to instill fear as a deterrent.

"The old maritime used to give fifty lashes for a crime. I want you to count each one until we get to fifty. If you miss one, then we start all over. Is that understood?"

Neal swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry. "Fify?"

"Quit playing like you are some kind of country hayseed. You know it was fifty." Peter landed a good swat on Neal's exposed bottom. "That's for being willfully disobedient."

"I am not being disobedient. You are being an unreasonable asshole."

Peter landed another good swat with the belt. "Every time you are like this, I'm going to hit you with this strap. They don't count towards your fifty total. Now, it's up to you to decide how many you want."

"You damn son-of-a-bitch."

Neal jumped as Peter brought the strap hard up between his legs. He did it a total of five times without saying a word. The pain was nearly unbearable.

"Fuck you!" Neal breathed out. He felt another five land precisely on top of the other five.

"Now, are you tiring of the game yet?"

"Just get this over with." Neal gritted through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry I ate the ears off your bunny."

"This isn't about the ears on a bunny and saying your sorry isn't going to work this time." Peter brought the strap down on Neal's buttocks hard.

"1. I'm sorry I touched your stuff."

Peter hit him with the same force. "I believe you, but Neal, it's not going to cut it this time."

"2. What more do I have to freaking do here?"

Peter again hit him with the belt. "You need to cowboy up and take your punishment like a man. You need to grow a pair."

"Don't you dare call me a boy! I've never been a boy. I've never heard you complain before about the" Neal yelled in agony as Peter brought up another five between his legs.

"We start again." Peter went back to working Neal's back.

"1." Neal seethed. Right now, the less time he had to spend in Peter's presence the better off he liked it. He was just going to keep his mouth shut and take it. He hated it when Peter got like this and crossed the line into sadism. By the time they had hit fifty, Neal could barely speak as tears flowed down. The pain was inhuman. It was going to take all the self control he could muster to move out of there.

He screamed as Peter hit him another five times between the legs. On the fifth stroke, Neal collapsed to his knees in a near boneless heap. He wasn't sure at the moment whether or not this really did beat prison.

"Get dressed. I don't want to see you again until Monday morning." Peter growled before leaving the conference room and Neal sobbing in the floor.