in which sex without actual consent happens (Peter/Neal)- the usual state of affairs in this story. Gosh, I really need to stop. I'm not quite comfortable writing sex scenes-no, really!-so if you like the story-not what's happening-please leave a nice review. :)

Because ... Neal's situation is very sad.

This is back when Neal/Sara was a still a possibility.

Fresh from victory in their latest case, breathless from the breezy New York air, Neal is grinning at him as they stand in next to the car. Peter looks at him, at the boyishly triumphant smile of a kid who's just won the top science fair prize.

Suddenly, Peter can see Neal and El kissing, as clearly as though they were committing the act directly in front of him: El's mouth would be soft and full, caressing, as it was when she and Peter kissed, Neal's lips would be parted, at first in surprise, then his hand would come up and thread through El's dark hair—

"Peter?" Neal questioned, and Peter started, only then realizing that he'd been simply staring at Neal for the past few minutes without visible expression.

"Yeah?" Peter replied, quickly.

"I was asking how you wanted to celebrate."

Peter gazed at him, at Neal's somewhat puzzled smile, and he wanted. The jolt of recognition in his gut is so strong he has to clench his hands into fists so that he wouldn't act on the urge.

Because it wasn't illegal, to have sex with a slave. Purple-crimson collars meant that the slave was maintained primarily for sex, and white, that the slave was on government contract. Technically, a slave with Neal's extraordinary skill set would be employed entirely for work-related purposes, but sexual relations between he and his owner—Peter—wasn't out of the question. Legally.

El had been brave enough to tell him openly, hadn't kept the matter a secret. He should clear out the air with her first.

"Let's go home," Peter said, and coughed to hide the hoarseness in his voice.

Still a little off-balanced from Peter's odd responses, Neal nevertheless nodded and got into the car.

The ride was quiet. Neal glanced at him every now and again, but did not interrupt the silence except for drumming on the dashboard in an effort to let out the adrenaline. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter caught Neal's elegant, clever hands tapping on the hard surface, and wondered what they would feel like on him.

When they arrived, once freed of the car's confines, Neal literally danced to the door, calling out, "El! I called it, the lawyer was the one siphoning off his clients; I am, as they say, the ambassador of awesome—"

"She's inside, she can't hear you," Peter informed him, amused despite his mood. Actually, she wasn't, as it turned out. Just then, Peter received a text from his wife that she'd be late getting home from work, and that they were stuck eating last night's leftovers.

"Oh," Neal said, frowning when he heard the news. "I can put something together, because, really, warmed leftovers from yesterday—"

"Spoiled." Peter rolled his eyes. "Cowboy up."

"You'll appreciate me more when—ummmph—" Neal's next words were stifled as Peter crowded into his personal space and leaned down to make up the two inches difference in height, resolved yet unsure of how to proceed. When Neal uncertainly made to step back against the wall, Peter thought, Dammit, and pressed his lips against Neal's fast-talking mouth.

The younger man immediately tensed, and his hands came up to create some space between him and Peter. His eyes darted to the side, toward the kitchen. "Peter … Peter … dinner, weren't we talking about dinner … I'll stop complaining, I will. I'll just warm—"

"Dinner later," Peter told him. "Bedroom. Now."

Neal took a deep breath. "Peter, please. Can we talk about this first?"

"Neal." Peter was taking off his coat and hanging it on the nail. He came back and started shrugging Neal out of his suit. "We have talked about this. Months ago."

"You and El talked about it," Neal said, jaw clenching.

Peter sighed. "Neal, it's been eight years since you've been with Kate. Are you planning on staying celibate for the rest of your life?"

Peter's attention was taken by the movement of Neal's throat as he swallowed hard. "I don't know."

"You're a healthy, highly attractive young man. Women throw themselves at you. And, if you happen to particularly like someone, El and I wouldn't be completely averse to letting him or her borrow you occasionally."

"I don't want to be borrowed!" Neal almost shouted.

Peter blinked, and then said harshly, "I think we're being more than generous." He softened his tone. "What about Sara? You two seem to be getting along nicely. You'd still be working under me, of course, but—"

Neal raised his head. "Sara?" he said quietly.

"She certainly appears interested," Peter said, one hand gripping Neal's arm, the other pulling on the stair rail. Still stunned, Neal followed. "And we'll have to make sure that you're clean before you come back to us," Peter reminded.

The mere act of undressing Neal … was an intensely rewarding experience. In his college years, Peter had messed around a bit with other guys, more to experiment than anything else. His interest remained firmly with girls. Neal … Neal was different. Neal was beautiful, compared to anyone.

And he was still skittish, shivering when Peter rubbed comforting circles on his back as he peeled off Neal's outer coat and loosened his tie.

"I don't know why you're so nervous, Neal, you hit on everything that moves," Peter pointed out.

"Not for-not seriously. Bad habit. But," Neal's customary polished manners seemed to desert him, and he stammered, "I'm not, uh, gay. That is, not exclusively. Gay."

"It's called bisexuality," Peter said dryly. He reached down a questing hand and cupped Neal through his dress pants, tried to recall how this went, but instinct took over and he went about doing what he himself liked. Neal jumped

"Oh. Oh. Peter, can we, no, let me—" he reached for Peter, but Peter gently knocked his hand away. "You first." He took a step closer, so that they were flush except for the room Peter needed to navigate.

Neal's breathing began to come faster as he grew hard, his fingers flailing until they came to tighten on Peter's arms.

"See? You're doing good," Peter murmured. He tried kissing again, and this time Neal's quiet gasps allowed him access. Curling his other hand at the back of Neal's neck, Peter didn't have to think as he ravished the younger man's mouth.

Neal licked his lips after Peter broke off the kiss to breathe and swayed, knees giving out as Peter squeezed with the hand between his legs.

"It's been a long time for you," Peter mused, guiding them to the bed. "How is this?"

Looking increasingly dazed, eyes closed, Neal nodded. "Good. It's good," he mumbled, rubbing his face into the pillow beneath him and moaning.