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Neal hadn't actually expected the response he received from Peter. It had just been an idle comment over dinner. He certainly enjoyed the time he spent with Peter and Elizabeth, including the evenings (and afternoons, and mornings…) in bed. It was just that he didn't really see the point in masturbating to pass the time between their encounters, and he certainly didn't see any reason seek out any other partners. So, when their lives got busy, and it was a couple of weeks between visits, Neal just didn't have any orgasms, which seemed to be what Peter was stuck on.
He had looked up from his plate to see Peter staring at him, pupils dilated with arousal, his fork dangling forgotten from his hand.
Elizabeth caught Neal's eye, which didn't help Neal's attempts to keep a straight face. "I think you broke him."
That had been just under 2 weeks ago.
Now sweat was streaming down Neal's face, he could feel his legs trembling on the edge of collapse. His back was slick under his fingers but that didn't stop him from scrabbling desperately at the rope that held his hand twisted up between his shoulder blades, as if getting a better grip there would help him stay up longer. Peter had fastened a spreader bar to his ankles, forcing them out to a stance half again as wide as his shoulders, then rigged up a system somehow so that if Neal stood up too far, the clamp on his right nipped tightened, and if he sank down too far, his left nipple got yanked. The middle ground was somewhere with his thighs close to parallel with the ground. He couldn't tell exactly how the system worked because he'd been blindfolded early on in this process. Just to make it impossible.
"How long?" He could hear Peter walking around him. How long had it been since Neal had last come. It was a question Peter had asked at least daily since that conversation 2 weeks back.
"13 days, 18 hours" Neal tried to concentrate, how long had it been since he'd last got it right? "56 minutes."
"Wrong" There was a smack of the crop, once then twice on his inner thighs and Neal jerked away then whimpered at the pain of the clamps. The crop trailed over his body as Peter circled him again, then paused with the tip lifting Neal's chin. "Maybe I should just leave you here like this until you can figure it out?"
Neal's breath shuddered at the heat in Peter's voice.
"Elizabeth is waiting upstairs for me. We could come back down when we're done and see how you did."
Neal's leg spasmed just as Peter stepped away. He cried out in pain as his body dipped too far down, then he forced himself back into position. Just one more minute, that's all, one more minute. He could always do one more minute. But he'd been telling himself that for several minutes now and it was getting harder and harder to convince himself it was possible. He let his head down and took quick hard breaths through his nose, an attempt to get himself back under control. It couldn't be long now.
Peter was talking, but Neal was barely listening, as dangerous as that could be. His internal clock, so useful on heists, was skewed by pain and fatigue. But he so wanted to get it right, to make Peter proud. Neal heard the distant chime of the living room clock, announcing the hour.
"50 minutes!" He gasped, "13 days, 18 hours, 50 minutes!" It was an estimate, but it was the same estimate he'd been working from for the past 13 days. Neither he nor Peter hadn't been paying that much attention to the clock the last time he'd had a free weekend with Peter and Elizabeth, the last time he had come.
"Good boy, good boy." Peter's hand cupped his cheek, tipped his head up to press a kiss to his forehead. For a brief, hot moment Neal forgot about the pain and basked in the warmth of Peter's approval. Then he treacherous muscles jerked again, he turned his face into Peter's shaking hand and sobbed at the pain. Just when he was sure he couldn't convince himself to take even another 5 seconds, there was the soft beep of the timer, and his challenge was over. Peter's strong arms came around his shoulders to help support his weight while he released the clamps, then guided Neal down to the soft cushions on the floor while Neal sobbed in relief. He collapsed in a heap, to tired to do anything but sag in Peter's arms while Peter carefully untied and unlocked the restraints while murmuring soothing praise. "Good job, you did good. You're so good for me Neal."
Neal did rouse himself enough to turn his head away when Peter reached for the blindfold. "Not yet," he whispered. He wasn't ready yet for the light of the real world yet, he wanted to keep the warm feeling of satisfaction and achievement as close as possible for as long as he could.
Peter didn't press, just caressed Neal's face, then held a bottle of apple juice to his lips. "You were perfect."
Eventually they would get up, and Neal would let Peter chivvy him up the stairs and into the bath that Elizabeth would have started when the timer went off. Neal would sit and soak in warm candlelit darkness, and Peter would go to Elizabeth. And when enough time had passed and Neal was pruned and ready to move again, he would make his way into their bedroom and snuggle in against their bodies for sleepy sated kisses.
And tomorrow, or the next day Neal'd get another text from Peter, asking 'How long?' and maybe he'd get to watch this time as Peter read Neal's response (14 days…). Neal didn't entirely understand the desire that simple act aroused in Peter, but that was okay, they didn't entirely understand him either. But it cost him nothing, to do this thing that gave them both so much pleasure (a week into this arrangement Elizabeth had sent Neal a thank you card and bouquet of flowers), and they were both so generous in ensuring he was satisfied in return. Just another one of his something for nothing schemes. Neal grinned, and snugged in closer to Peter. It probably was a good idea to keep that thought to himself. For now.