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asimaiyatTitle: "Not Gonna Let You Run"
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Mozzie/Neal
Rating: Hard R -- bondage, BDSM relationship, um... no actual sex. Sorry.
Summary: Mozzie and Neal play with limits. And rope.
AN: Forspeccygeekgrrl, who is awesome. Title and cut text from "Lovers' Day" by TV On The Radio, which is the best song in the world.
"Shibari," Mozzie explained, from somewhere behind Neal, "is an ancient art form, perfected over centuries of practice. I highly doubt --"
"I know what it is. I just don't think you can --" Neal let the last couple of words die in his throat as Mozz pulled tight the final knot in the woven sleeve of silk ropes that bound his forearms behind his back.
"Okay, hotshot, let's find out."
Neal gave a couple of experimental tugs to see what he was working with. A little give, but not much. He twisted his fingers against each other, reaching upward -- if the sleeves hadn't extended down to the bones of his wrists, he might have gotten somewhere, but no, not quite. He pressed his calves to the edge of the bed to hold himself steady as his torso wobbled back and forth, unmoored. Starting to feel his heart race, he shoved one shoulder back to see if he could temporarily dislocate it -- not with his elbows held firmly in place.
Neal forced himself to be still, then, but he couldn't stop his eyes from darting around the room. If he hadn't been naked, maybe he would have had something that could cut the rope. But he was naked. If he could just -- Mozzie closed the distance between them and placed his hand between Neal's shoulder blades, and Neal relaxed a tiny bit into the touch, wanting in some obscure way to make him proud.
"You are a sight for sore eyes," Mozz murmured, stroking his back. "You're doing great. Tell me how it feels."
Neal paused to breathe for a second, to fight down the impulse to flee and just let himself feel the rush of adrenaline past his ears, the surreal sensation of flying and being trapped at the same time. "It feels amazing." He had started to get hard when Mozzie had tied the first knot at his elbows, and by now there was an edge of desperation to his arousal. "So." He looked up at Mozzie, reading the desire and self-satisfaction on his face. "What do you want to do with me?"
Mozzie crowded in closer, now placing one hand on Neal's shoulder and draping the other around his throat, in a gesture that Neal knew was meant not to threaten him, but to demonstrate his attention to Neal's stress level, resting one thumb against the pulse point at the side of his neck. Neal's idea of trust was -- situational -- but he trusted Mozzie to recognize the line between erotic tension and genuine panic.
"I keep thinking," he said, as if to himself, "that one of these days I'll do your legs, too, from the knees down. You'd be more or less totally immobilized. I could blindfold and gag you, too, because let's be honest, you're not exactly helpless as long as you can use those eyes and those words on me. Might be nice. I could keep you that way for as long as I wanted --"
Neal took in a quick, shallow breath, not quite a gasp, and Mozz angled his head to look him in the eye. Whatever he saw must have gone beyond the expected swirl of lust and fear, the elements they were used to working with, because he petted Neal's hair in the kind of shockingly gentle gesture that Neal loved him for, the way he always knew when to lay off and cut Neal a little slack, metaphorically if not literally. "Hey," he said quietly, "I said 'one of these days.' Did I say today? I didn't think so."
Fandom: White Collar
Pairing: Mozzie/Neal
Rating: Hard R -- bondage, BDSM relationship, um... no actual sex. Sorry.
Summary: Mozzie and Neal play with limits. And rope.
AN: For
speccygeekgrrl, who is awesome. Title and cut text from "Lovers' Day" by TV On The Radio, which is the best song in the world."Shibari," Mozzie explained, from somewhere behind Neal, "is an ancient art form, perfected over centuries of practice. I highly doubt --"
"I know what it is. I just don't think you can --" Neal let the last couple of words die in his throat as Mozz pulled tight the final knot in the woven sleeve of silk ropes that bound his forearms behind his back.
"Okay, hotshot, let's find out."
Neal gave a couple of experimental tugs to see what he was working with. A little give, but not much. He twisted his fingers against each other, reaching upward -- if the sleeves hadn't extended down to the bones of his wrists, he might have gotten somewhere, but no, not quite. He pressed his calves to the edge of the bed to hold himself steady as his torso wobbled back and forth, unmoored. Starting to feel his heart race, he shoved one shoulder back to see if he could temporarily dislocate it -- not with his elbows held firmly in place.
Neal forced himself to be still, then, but he couldn't stop his eyes from darting around the room. If he hadn't been naked, maybe he would have had something that could cut the rope. But he was naked. If he could just -- Mozzie closed the distance between them and placed his hand between Neal's shoulder blades, and Neal relaxed a tiny bit into the touch, wanting in some obscure way to make him proud.
"You are a sight for sore eyes," Mozz murmured, stroking his back. "You're doing great. Tell me how it feels."
Neal paused to breathe for a second, to fight down the impulse to flee and just let himself feel the rush of adrenaline past his ears, the surreal sensation of flying and being trapped at the same time. "It feels amazing." He had started to get hard when Mozzie had tied the first knot at his elbows, and by now there was an edge of desperation to his arousal. "So." He looked up at Mozzie, reading the desire and self-satisfaction on his face. "What do you want to do with me?"
Mozzie crowded in closer, now placing one hand on Neal's shoulder and draping the other around his throat, in a gesture that Neal knew was meant not to threaten him, but to demonstrate his attention to Neal's stress level, resting one thumb against the pulse point at the side of his neck. Neal's idea of trust was -- situational -- but he trusted Mozzie to recognize the line between erotic tension and genuine panic.
"I keep thinking," he said, as if to himself, "that one of these days I'll do your legs, too, from the knees down. You'd be more or less totally immobilized. I could blindfold and gag you, too, because let's be honest, you're not exactly helpless as long as you can use those eyes and those words on me. Might be nice. I could keep you that way for as long as I wanted --"
Neal took in a quick, shallow breath, not quite a gasp, and Mozz angled his head to look him in the eye. Whatever he saw must have gone beyond the expected swirl of lust and fear, the elements they were used to working with, because he petted Neal's hair in the kind of shockingly gentle gesture that Neal loved him for, the way he always knew when to lay off and cut Neal a little slack, metaphorically if not literally. "Hey," he said quietly, "I said 'one of these days.' Did I say today? I didn't think so."