Chapter Text
Title: Lesser of Two Evils 3
Author: Ursula
Rating: rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Peter/Elizabeth/Neal
Spoilers: None
Notes: Written for a request on Collar Kink ".Neal had a protector in prison (it was either that or be passed around like a sex toy, lesser of two evils). The guy either escapes or does his time. He comes after Neal, only it's 'romantic', or as far as Peter and the team can tell, stalking. Something happens (author's choice) and Peter and Elizabeth end up with a traumatized Neal to take care of. Gentle threesome sex ensues with Elizabeth initiating. "
Warnings: Reference to non con and dub con.
Word Count:
Summary: Peter tried to make sure that Neal was safe in prison, but he had work to do and things didn't go as Peter planned. Neal had few choices and took what he thought was the lesser of two evils.
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.
OooOooO
When Peter looked back in the mirror, Neal was asleep. El was nearly so, her hand ceaselessly stroking Neal's hair. Moz craned his head back at El and Neal together.
"Nice," Moz judged. "They look good together."
"Mine," Peter said and startled to find he had said it aloud.
Moz just nodded in agreement.
"Is he going to be all right?" Peter asked Moz. He understood that Moz was the one who would know. Moz was Neal's keeper as Neal was his. They cared for each other, bickered, and could not imagine life without each other. Those years in prison must have been horrible for Moz, who has enough on his record to prevent him from visiting.
"I don't know," Moz said. "He's been through too much lately."
"I meant well," Peter said unhappily. "It infuriated me that every time Neal started to be happy and settle down that Kate waltzed into his life and destroyed him."
"Yeah, been there, done that," Moz dismissed. "I'd tell you but I don't want to humiliate myself. Rescuing Neal from himself is a full time job."
"I think El and I are putting in our application," Peter said. "I think Kate is out of luck."
OooOooO
Peter and El's guest room was familiar. The walls were painted blue, swirls of blue and white without pattern but restful to Neal's weary eyes. Neal sat on the bed and he knew he was exhausted. He had not been able to sleep well at Marley's so the bed which El had turned back for him looked inviting. Peter had left with Moz to bring Neal an assortment of his clothing and toiletries, but for now, Neal was wearing one of Peter's shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. Neal supposed he could have gone home, but home while delightful did not contain El. He sat on the bed, unable to quiet himself, unable to lie down.
El returned with some herbal tea she said would relax Neal. He had refused a trip to the emergency room. There was nothing physically wrong with him other than exhaustion and stress. He knew that.
Neal wanted to cry. Yes, he knew that was not the cowboy way. Yes, he knew there was no reason for it now. It was over. Marley was dead and would never torment him again. He was here with El. Peter would be return soon and Moz was going to sleep on the Burke's couch, which was so very funny for some reason.
In the morning, Neal was sure that Elaine would be here, poking and prodding, making it hurt, but making it heal at the same time.
Eventually, Neal knew he would go back to work and he hoped people would not look at him as if he was an exhibit at the zoo.
Neal was a thief, it was true, but he had never kidnapped anyone. Marley made him a stolen object and Neal did not like it all. Marley had taken his freedom, his dignity, his sense of himself. What was left was this awkward creature wearing Neal's old skin gracelessly. He was not himself. He was lost to the center of who he was.
Things had finally become comfortable at the FBI after Fowler's arrest of him. On Neal's side was that everyone hated OPR. They sympathized with Neal and enjoyed watching OPR slink away. Neal really wished he could have seen that, but Jones had given him a good play by play.
Suddenly Neal regretted thinking about his arrest. Neal's mind segued back to the shock of being arrested. One of the worst moments was when Peter said 'no' to Fowler.
Neal remembered smirking at Fowler, so assured that Peter was coming to the rescue, trusting in Peter with childlike certainty. When he remembered what it felt like when Peter reached for him, cuffs in hand, it hurt more than it should. The taste of the betrayal had been so bitter.
Nothing bad had happened to Neal when he was inside. He had not been allowed out of his cell and he was in a different row from Marley. He had not even seen his tormentor.
The idea of prison however frightened Neal more than was rational. He never wanted to see the inside of a cage again.
The very thought made Neal get up, need to move. The room seemed to close in around him. As Neal rose, El sat down, put her hand on his arm, and drew him back.
"You're cold," El said. "Get under the covers."
She mesmerized him. El pulled back the sheets and covers and Neal slid into the bed, now a willing captive. El sat on the bed against the pillows and Neal understood that he was to use her as a pillow.
"Peter might..." Neal said nervously.
"Peter wants to hold you, but you know it's hard for him," El said. "How is it that a man can so expertly profile a thief finds human relationships so difficult? I will never get it, but I have to love him anyway. Come here, Neal."
Leaning into El, Neal felt his panic subside. El was like no one he knew. She seemed so soft. Her body was soft in all the right places. You could rest on her. You could stroke her curves and feel her laugh through the voluptuous delights of her body. Underneath, El was strong; her flesh was like her soul, tender, sweet, deep. Her body was like her soul, made of adamant.
From the day, Neal had met her, he had trusted El as he wanted to trust Peter. He had always known that Peter had his angles. Peter had a good heart, but he was a cop, an agent, whatever you wanted to call it. It was the same. He liked Neal as a person, but he fundamentally despised Neal's criminal mind. The playing field was never level between them.
It hadn't mattered at first. Peter was the means to an end. Or so Neal wanted to believe. Neal wanted to believe that he would have made the move on that roof top for anyone, but he wondered. Would he have been content with a warning if it had been anyone but Peter Burke?
"You know how sorry Peter is," El said. Her hand moved from Neal's hair to his face. Her finger traced the angles of Neal's face. She laughed and said, "Peter wants to buy you a better razor. It's dress up, isn't it, this stubble?"
"It gives me an edge," Neal said.
"Your smile is your edge," El said. "Drink your tea," she added, putting it in his hand.
Obediently, Neal sipped, but he wasn't sure he wanted to sleep. Marley was dead, but something of him lived on. Marley had not raped him, not physically, or at least, he had not fucked him, but Neal felt the violation in his mind.
"I love you. Peter loves you," El said.
Neal tensed at the word. Love. Marley saying again and again that he loved Neal. There was poison in the word now.
"Neal?" El said. Her hand stopped. "Do you need some distance?"
"No," Neal said. Louder, "No!"
The tea slopped. Either there was an earthquake or his hand was shaking. Neal hoped it was an earthquake.
"I'm sorry," Neal said as El dabbed at the spill with a handful of tissues.
"It doesn't matter," El soothed.
"It does matter," Neal fretted. "It does matter." He didn't know what he meant. Or he did. He didn't want to think.
The tea cup was set aside. El held Neal closer. She said, "You can sleep. I have you. I have you now."
Sometimes being possessed was okay. El could own him.
OooOooO
When Peter arrived home, he found El asleep with Neal in the guest room. Neal lay across her, his face between her breasts, his arm across her, El's arms around him protectively. Peter stood there with all the things that Moz was sure that Neal needed burdening his arms, all the emotions he felt at seeing this burdening his heart.
Part of him was jealous. Of his wife, of El who made life worth living and whom he was always afraid to lose, because he did not deserve her, no, he didn't. Of Neal's relationship with El because El had never betrayed Neal and Neal had never betrayed El. Because they could love each other without the pain and Peter did love Neal.
Peter loved Neal wickedly. He feared he loved him as obsessively as Marley had loved him. He wanted him. He wanted to suck on Neal's throat, to bite at him, mark him. He wanted to muss the order of Neal's hair that was his vanity, one of his many conceits. He wanted to have two handfuls of the thickness to guide Neal's head down. He wanted to feel that lying, smiling, delightful mouth against his cock. He wanted the perfidious tongue teasing his hardness. He wanted to come down Neal's throat.
And Peter wanted more.
His hands wanted to try to span that incredibly narrow waist. It fascinated him, that a man could have so slender a waist. He could not take his eyes off Neal in a vest, Neal without a vest, wearing his skin and glancing at Peter as he covered the temptations of his body with a shirt.
Peter wanted to kiss Neal's mouth until both of them were breathless. Until Neal was bruised, helpless, holding onto him as if he would fall without Peter's arms around him.
Peter wanted to lift Neal's legs around his shoulders and fuck him. He wants to see Neal's face as he rode him hard. He wants those blue eyes to be wide and eager. He wanted to see Neal utter cries of pleasure. He wanted to feel Neal come, his body offering its release to Peter as Peter came hot within him.
Peter wanted Marley alive because Peter was afraid that he would never have Neal the way he wanted now. He wanted Marley alive because he had not been the one to shoot Marley and that had been his right as Neal was his. Marley should have suffered longer.
Peter mourned the good that would have been when he loved Neal and Neal loved him back.
OooOooO
Peter was in the armchair that El had set by the window. He was too big for the chair which was small in size and upholstered with gold fleur de lis. It was a silly baroque chair, but El loved it anyway.
Asleep, Peter beat the stereotype because he did not look younger. He looked the age he was. When he was awake, Peter was seldom still and if he was still, his mind was racing. He was ageless like that, eager to solve the puzzle before him, race to the next.
El hated being a law enforcement wife. She cringed every time she read about a cop shot. She dreaded the day that might come when her husband did not come home. When she was two years into the marriage, Peter was wounded in the line of duty. She left him when he was well enough to make it less guilt edged. She begged him to take her back almost immediately. El found that having Peter and fearing losing him was better than not having him at all.
It could have been bitter to know that her husband loved another man. El could have resigned herself to Peter suffering in silence. Neal yearning for the good man he desired.
El could have given permission for Peter to reach out and grab what he wanted.
She really could have.
Except she was a greedy woman. From the first time, El saw Neal; she wanted him. She wanted him in her bed. She wanted him in a very strange way because she desired his beauty, wanted to have him with a blind amoral passion that overwhelmed her senses. She also wanted to hold him, love him, make his world less painful.
El adored Neal's smiles, the sly ones that meant mischief, the glowing ones with which he greeted any hint of happiness, the soft ones when he was touched. She even liked the glittering shark like grin that he used to con the world.
Sometimes though, it was unsmiling Neal that she loved the most. The Neal who turned to her instinctively to help him with Peter. The Neal who came to her despite his doubt of her husband. The Neal who needed her as much as Peter needed her.
Peter woke with a shudder and a cry. He saw El looking his way and gave her a rueful smile.
"I didn't want to disturb you. Neal was sleeping," Peter said.
"We should have just all slept in our bed," El said.
"Yes," Peter said. "No," Peter said. "After what happened to Neal, I am sure that he does not want to be anyplace near me in bed."
A groggy voice interjected. "Peter, you are not Marley. You can take me to your bed anytime."
Neal untangled himself from El, glanced at Peter and must have seen permission and gave her a kiss.
"Tea goes right through me," Neal admitted. "I have to use the bathroom." He yawned and stretched, Peter's tee shirt rode up exposing his slender body. "It's good to be home."
El and Peter exchanged glances. They smiled. There was a broken heart to mend. Trust to build. But it was not impossible if Neal felt it was home.
OooOooO
After breakfast, Jones showed up with a new tracker. Neal automatically lifted his foot to be banded, but Jones grabbed him first, hugged him swiftly, thumped him on his back, and offered him a warm "Glad you're back, man. I owe you a dinner."
The band no longer chafed. Neal was used to it. He took a quick breath as he remembered Kate cutting it.
"You okay? Too tight?" Jones asked.
Neal rested a hand on Jones' shoulder for a moment. He said, "No, I was just thinking about...it's fine. I almost feel naked without it."
"Hurry back to work," Jones said. "Lauren and I miss you, no matter what she says."
"She okay? That was her first, wasn't it?" Neal said, referring to Lauren shooting Marley. Peter had filled him in this morning on the events he had heard, but not seen.
"Yeah, she's a tough one," Jones said. "She's doing better with it than I did. She has to go see OPR."
"Not Fowler?" Neal asked. Fowler was the asshole who had tried to frame Neal for stealing the pink diamond.
"No, Fowler is barred from our office. Hughes has that much pull," Jones said. He tapped the anklet and said, "Try to keep this one on for a few days."
Jones was giving Peter a ride to work. Peter said, "Take it easy today. Get some rest. El will be home with you until ten and then your friend, Elaine, is going to spend the afternoon with you."
"I could tell you that I don't need a babysitter," Neal said. He shrugged and said, "I'd be lying."
Peter's face looked uncertain, not sure if Neal was teasing or telling the truth. He settled for a pat on Neal's shoulder. "Take it easy."
Neal had to admit it. Sometimes it was difficult to read Peter. He wanted Peter to tell him right now. He wanted Peter to say it and mean it, that he loved Neal.
OooOooO
El and Peter had gone to work. Moz was skulking or sulking off somewhere; it was difficult to tell which. Neal had the couch to himself, a plate of cookies and had made Elaine tea. Neal sprawled. He wore his own clothing now, an old tee shirt and worn jeans, nothing on his feet.
"I'm still thinking it through," Neal said.
"Feelings are not thought," Elaine said.
"Words," Neal dismissed with an airy wave of his hand. "I'm back. Marley is dead. It's over."
"How do you feel about Peter Burke?"
"He and Moz saved me. I love the man," Neal said.
One half of the hair piled on Elaine's head gave up holding onto her hopeless attempt at a bun. It cascaded down. Her hair was still lovely with the gray. She should do something with it.
Satchmo's dog hair was all over her black sweater. Satchmo was in love with Elaine Durkins. He had not left her side all morning. Satchmo was a fickle beast.
"There's more though, isn't there?" Elaine said.
"I thought I had moved past it," Neal said. "I thought when I left prison, it was the end of it. Yes, it was horrible. I was raped. They raped me." He swallowed his loathing down. "I hate saying it. I hate that it happened. Peter was going to be the one who gave it back to me. He was the only man I wanted to touch me since that happened. I did want it back. I loved being...uh, I liked being with another guy."
"It's all right that you liked being fucked," Elaine shot in.
Neal covered his face, but ended up watching Elaine try to stuff her hair back in the bun until he couldn't stand it. He got up and with a few deft touches organized the hair into a neat pair of braids and into a coronet. "I can teach you to do that."
"I'm all thumbs," Elaine said. She smiled at Neal. "You are adorable."
"I'm just a con man," Neal said.
"You keep saying that," Elaine said. "I'm sure that some people believe you, but no one who bothers to get to know you does. You are inherently lovable."
Neal said, "I bet you say that to all your clients."
"Only when it's true," Elaine said, sneaking another cookie off Neal's plate.
Satchmo finally seemed to notice Neal and walked over to dump a chew toy in his lap. "We should take this guy for a walk," Neal said. "Let me check in with Peter."
It was annoying having to call Peter just to see if he could take the dog for a walk, but Neal had forgotten to ask how his anklet was set now. Neal reached Peter and said, "Satchmo wants some attention. Can Elaine and I take him for a walk?"
"You're up to that?" Peter asked.
"I'm not an invalid," Neal said.
"Just keep within a mile," Peter said. "The marshals are getting a little irate at the way I reset your boundaries all the time."
It made Neal laugh and that felt good. He said, "I want Chinese for dinner tonight if you're picking up."
"I will," Peter said. "I will be home on time too."
"Now that's a miracle," Neal said. "I'll believe it when I see it."
"I almost took the day off," Peter said.
"All right," Neal said, "I miss you already."
Surprisingly, Peter didn't deflect what Neal offered as genuine affection. He said, "Yeah, same here. Don't over tire yourself."
They had a nice walk. A mile was long enough. Neal was unpleasantly aware that he had spent three weeks in the confines of two rooms and much of it chained to bed. Satchmo didn't seem to notice his collar and leash or mind that it was a short walk. He sniffed, peed, sniffed, peed, and then he squatted.
Elaine produced a bag and scooped up the product. She laughed at Neal's expression. "You love dogs. This is part the job."
"I didn't think about that," Neal said. "You mean El does this all the time?"
"I imagine," Elaine said as they turned around to go home.
"Kind of takes the romance away," Neal said to the hind end of Satchmo.
After the walk, Neal talked to Elaine a little more. She used a method of therapy called Trauma Focused Cognitive therapy, meant specifically to help survivors of rape, captivity, or serious injuries cope with the symptoms. As Neal understood it, he needed to work with her for hours during the next few weeks, but afterwards, he would have the skills to cope with what happened to him.
"Just not thinking about it has always worked with me before," Neal said.
"It really worked well," Elaine said. "You have made choices for your life that were the result of past abuse, Neal."
"No, I didn't," Neal shot back. "Just because I'm a free thinker doesn't mean..."
He sounded like Moz. He shut up. Thought about it. He said, "Okay, let's do it. What I get out of this is I ...won't have problems with Peter, right?"
"If that's one of your goals," Elaine said, "although I don't do sex therapy. You know that."
"Oh, too bad," Neal teased.
Neal sent Elaine home laughing. He wasn't sure about the therapy. He thought it was more a case of getting back on the horse that threw you. Not that Peter was hung quite that large, but he would do.
OooOooO
Home early, bearing ample amounts of Chinese food, Peter found El and Neal in the guest room which was now apparently an art studio. El was posing, not nude, wearing a costume dress of white silk which was almost more enticing than nakedness.
So far, Neal had only finished most of her face, but he had caught all the beauty that was El. Peter knew better than to touch Neal unannounced. He said, "It's lovely."
"She's lovely," Neal said.
"Can I put my arms around you?" Peter asked.
"That sounds good," Neal said.
Peter took Neal at his word, gathering him up, bringing him close. He nuzzled Neal's neck.
"A kiss might work here," Neal suggested.
"You're bossy," Peter said, glancing at El. "Why do I fall in love with bossy, domineering people?"
"Lucky, I guess," El said, laughing, her eyes hot on them.
"Careful, I have paint on me," Neal said, "You'll ruin your suit. Oh, it's the gray one. Ruin away."
Peter gave into temptation. His hands went around Neal's waist. No, his hands could not span the waist, but he liked trying. His body thrummed as if his blood was surging to a heavy beat. He kissed Neal's neck. Neal arched back, one hand going to reach behind him, to draw him nearer. Neal turned around, smelling of oil paint and El. It was a heady combination.
Looking into Neal's eyes, Peter saw a flicker of fear and hesitated.
"Kiss it away, Peter," Neal said, reading Peter as well as Peter read him.
It was just a kiss, not a big deal. It was just a kiss and it was the taste of Neal exploding some hidden part of Peter that made him want to carry him off to bed right then, no asking, no waiting, no worries. It was the brush of lips as soft and yielding as Peter imagined. It was those lips opening to him. Neal's tongue slipping against his own. Peter's grip changing as Neal leaned into him, held on tighter. Peter's hands, one gripping Neal's ass as if it was a genius that knew what he wanted. The other hand had the back of Neal's head, holding him into the kiss. It was a two fold moan, vibrating between them, a sensate sound of lust, an om of desire.
Elizabeth was leaning forward when Peter looked at her. She wasn't jealous. Her gaze was hungry. Peter turned Neal around to her as she came forward prowling toward them, that white dress could not make that expression innocent, no, it could not.
El took the lips that Peter had kissed red. Neal leaned back against Peter, trusting Peter to hold him steady.
The Chinese food was going to get cold.
"I should really take care of my brushes," Neal said as both El and Peter tugged him toward their bedroom.
"I'll buy you new ones," Peter said.
"They're expensive," Neal said.
"I don't care," Peter replied. "Ask me for anything."
"Just don't let me say no," Neal said.
Oh. Dead stop.
Neal quickly explained, "I just mean that I want you, Peter. It just might take a little patience."
"Neal, you don't have to," Peter said.
"I want you," Neal said. Peter had let go of him but Neal took his hand, drew it back around his own waist, and said, "I think I wanted you from the moment I met you."
El smiled at them both and said, "Shut off those worrying brains. Seize the day."
"Why don't we just seize you instead?" Neal said, feinting for her. "Right here in the hall if you don't hurry."
"Not unless you want Satchmo to make it a foursome,"
"El!" Peter said, "Not a happy thought."
There was a tangle of hands near the bed. El won the undressing contest as her white dress had been worn with no slip, no bra, no underwear. She was beautiful naked, her body rich and full, her breasts just the right size to fill Peter's hands. She pulled the covers aside, opened a drawer to show she had lube and condoms ready.
Neal's amused smirk at the supplies made Peter grin. "She's good, isn't she?"
Neal's clothing enhanced him, but his skin was even better. He was so finely made. Peter had never seen anyone formed quite like him. He was lean, his stomach was a series of definitions leading to the bush of black curls, glossy and thick. His chest was nearly hairless, his nipples peeked nubs that Peter had to immediately taste. His cock was rosy, hard, perfect in shape and size.
Peter's voice came thick, almost unrecognizable. "What do you want?"
"You," Neal said. "El," he added. "Both of you."
Eyes intent, Neal said, "But I need to see you, Peter. Just let me see you."
"El," Peter said. "El."
El kissed Neal again, her hands explored Neal's body until he was taking deep rapid breaths and his cock filled harder with his need for her. El took Peter's hand so they moved together over Neal. Neal caught Peter's hand, kissed it and then guided it downward insistently.
Peter rose from the bed to move between Neal's legs. He warmed the lube in his hand before hesitantly stroking it inside Neal. It was not his first time. He liked this. He knew this, but he had never been so tender before. He had never wanted something so much yet worried so much about it.
El's long hair swept along Neal's skin. It veiled her from Peter's gaze when her kisses traveled all the way to Neal's groin. Peter watched his wife's head as it moved over their lover. He hadn't been sure what he would feel about seeing her with another man, even Neal. It was beautiful. It was perfect because what they were going to have was perfect.
"Wait," Neal begged.
Startled both El and Peter stopped, froze. "I want to come with Peter inside me and uh I am not going to make it unless you stop a minute, El. Come here. Come where I can reach you."
Now El was kissing Neal, messily, wetly, kissing him as if he was something she needed and had hungered for. He was stroking her clit, his fingers playing inside her, echoing what Peter was doing to him.
Neal opened his legs wider then slid them over Peter's shoulders, inviting him. Peter felt as if this was a ceremony. He slowly pushed past the initial resistance, waited until Neal signaled with a tiny buck that he wanted more. Peter was so afraid he would hurt Neal. It would have killed him if he thought that Neal was afraid.
Neal uttered a dirty litany of encouragement. He was down right lyrical in how he encouraged Peter to move just a little harder. Peter needed to see Neal's face and El shuddered just then, climaxing with a full body quiver, moving away from Neal for the moment.
Now, Peter could see Neal and could see that his lips were pulled back. He looked fierce in his pursuit of pleasure. A long ahh expelled as Peter could not help moving faster. Almost there, almost...that edge where it was nearly too much, not quite enough, and ... and...there, coming, wishing that that there was nothing between them. His Neal... his.
His Neal to love, to protect and cherish. To keep as lover, partner, friend all in one.
His.
El's mind reading ability was singular as she kissed Neal again. "Ours, Peter, ours."
"Yours," Neal agreed.
Neal looked fuck drunk, slack with satisfaction. Peter was not much of an artist, but he would gladly claim this masterpiece.
Neal's smile was not quite Mona Lisa, but it was a combination of astonishment and bliss.
"It was good?" Peter asked.
"It was perfect," Neal said.
"Rest up," Peter said. "You have some return favors."
"Really?" Neal questioned.
"Really," Peter said. "As soon as you can."
"Could be very soon," Neal said.
OooOooO
The Chinese food was eaten with two pairs of chop sticks since the resteraunt forgot the third pair. They ate it straight from the boxes, and they took turns feeding each other. The bed was a wreck anyway. There was no post coitum triste. They kept looking at each other and smiling.
Peter could only imagine the ways three people could combine. Everything would be new. He reached across to taste Chinese with Neal flavoring. A rare treat.
"Is this going to work?" Neal asked.
"It has too," Peter said. "This is long term, Neal. I mean, if you want it to be."
"I want," Neal said, ducking his head, eyes shining.
"I want everything," Neal said. "I want to trust you again, Peter, the way I have always trusted Elizabeth. I want you to love me as much as I think I have always loved the both of you."
"Any mistakes I made," Peter said. "I made them out of love. I wanted you so much and I thought El and I were better for you."
"You are," Neal said. "It didn't have to be that way, though. Maybe I wasn't ready, but I could still hear I love you and have it mean something to me."
"I love you," Peter said.
"And I adore you both, but I would adore you more if we get all this food and all of this 'us' out of the bedding," El said.
She was after all, very practical.
Neal grinned at Peter and said, "She's going to nag us, isn't she?"
"Terribly," Peter said. "She is going to domesticate you and you are going to like it."
"I think I might grow to like that," Neal said. "And I might take you both on a walk on the wild side, from time to time."
"I already know that works for me," Peter said. "As for El, watch out. She has her moments."
Neal's eyes danced.
"So this is the happy ending?" Neal asked.
"Guess so," Peter said. "Moz and I slew the dragon with some help from Lauren. The prince and the princess are home in the castle with the beast."
"We're writing porn fairy tales, these days?" Neal asked.
"The best kind" El assured. "The very best. Now get that pretty ass in gear and help me change the sheets."
"Just going to muss them again," Peter observed, just before El hit him with her pillow.
OooOooO
Neal woke once in the night. He couldn't move between Peter and El on either side of him. He felt a momentary fear as he heard a sound, but then realized it was only Satchmo prowling. His slight stirring made Peter tighten his embrace around Neal. Funny, Peter owning him had mostly been okay. This was what Neal wanted, what he needed.
Kate was out there some place, no doubt she would find herself trouble. Neal waited for the familiar pain she always brought to him, but there was only a distant ache. Neal was nearly sad to realize that time would fade even that memory.
This was his life, his lovers. He had his Moz. His other friends, June, Elaine, Jones, Lauren.
The high of a heist, the thrill of the big con, these were things he had used to fill that yearning within. They had been fun. Neal wasn't going to pretend they weren't, but he would trade them all. He had traded them all.
In this quiet moment, Neal could almost forgive Marley. Marley had shown them that life was too short to hesitate. There were risks, but it was only three years and a handful of weeks.
The anklet would be gone and Neal knew that when he was free, that Peter and El would bring him shining into the light. That they would show the world their pride in him.
Neal would never have to choose the lesser of two evils again. He had all that was good.
That was what he would hold in his heart.
The end