Trust and Protection: Recovery

Chapter 5

Recovery: Day 14

'Come on in, Neal!' Frank Daley called out. 'I've got sparkling water today. You want some?'

'That would be good, thanks.' Neal said thinking back to the last time he had been in this room; after his panic attack when he was shaking and feeling sick.

'That's the spirit! So how have you been managing since the last time we met? Any more panic attacks?' Frank asked him cheerfully pouring them both a drink.

Neal cringed inwardly. He felt so weak and helpless for not being able to stop his body from reacting to the flashbacks that would just appear out of nowhere and with no warning, making him hyperventilate until he passed out. It was pathetic, he thought angrily, Neal Caffrey was not a man who panicked, except that now, apparently he was.

'No.'

'Well, that's good to hear.'

'Yeah…' Neal agreed not looking him in the eye.

'So after you left on Monday, I had a visit from your Peter Burke…'

'My Peter?' Neal asked suddenly on high alert.

'He is your handler, is he not?'

'Well…Yes, but…'

'So it's safe to say that you spend the majority of your time in work with Peter.'

'There are several agents in the White Collar division with whom I spend a lot of time on cases…'

'But you report to Peter…'

'Yes, but…'

'So if you had a problem, you would go to Peter about it.'

'It depends on the problem…'

'A work related problem.'

'Again, it would depend on the problem.'

'Would you say that you and Peter have a close relationship?'

'Define close…'

'If you were worried about something, say, something had gone wrong on a case… Would you be able to approach Peter and talk to him about it? Would he listen to you? Would he be receptive to your needs?'

'My needs?'

'Just because you are an informant and not an FBI agent, doesn't mean that you don't have needs; the need to be included and respected, the need to feel that your contribution to the team or operation is important, that your opinion is valued, that what you are doing makes a difference and to feel that you, Neal Caffrey, has inherent worth as a person.'

Neal thought back to all the times Peter had bounded into dangerous situations just to save him, the look of anger at his blatant disregard for the rules mixed with relief that he was alright, the way Peter couldn't seem to stop touching him, checking to make sure he was unharmed and the way Peter was always telling him that he had a life here, with people who cared about him, that he'd performed well on a case, that he made a difference…

'Yeah, Peter's a good guy. He looks out for me.'

'And the others in your workplace…? They don't?'

'Well, initially they weren't too happy about having a convicted criminal in the same room as them.'

'And now?'

'I'm good at my job. The case closure rate has increased since Peter brought me on the team.'

'But there are still some of them that think you shouldn't be there…'

Neal shrugged.

'I work for Peter. No one is going to question his authority and he's not going to get rid of me any time soon; I'm too useful.'

'Is that the only reason he keeps you around; because you're useful?'

'I'm an ex-con; he's a Fed. It's not like we've got much in common…And I'm a bit of a thorn in his side; he has to do a lot of extra paper-work to keep me on. He's always whinging about it…'

'Do you think he regrets taking you on as his consultant?'

'Sometimes.'

'Why's that?'

'Peter's a 'rule' guy…'

'And you don't play by the rules?'

'Sure I do! But just not Peter's…' Neal said grinning.

'And Peter gets angry at you when you don't play by his rules?'

'Angry, frustrated, upset…He sees things very much in black and white.'

'Whereas you're more of a gray guy…'

'Infinite shades of…' Neal smirked.

'But despite you making Peter's life difficult…'

'I wouldn't say 'difficult', more 'interesting'…'

'Okay, despite you making Peter's life 'interesting' he still cares for you a great deal.'

'He told you that?' Neal asked surprised.

'Not in so many words, no. In fact, he warned me off you.'

'Ah! That sounds more like the Peter I know…'

'He told me not to trust you because you were a con-artist and manipulated people for a living.'

'He threatens to put me back in prison on a regular basis; water off a duck's back!'

'But then he said that despite that you were a good guy that bad things had happened to and that he hoped I could help you.'

'That's… That's really nice of him.' Neal said, feeling choked at Peter's kindness.

'Oh… And he also told me that he would kick your butt if you skipped any of our appointments…'

'I wouldn't dream of it.'

'It sounds like he's become quite a good friend to you…'

'Yeah…'

Neal didn't have the heart to even try and lie about that one.

'I'd also venture that while I'm sure you can charm the pants off of pretty much anyone you meet due to the nature of your profession, you find it difficult to trust the majority of people and you don't actually have that many friends at all and the fact that Peter; a law-abiding, up-standing, black and white kind of a guy, who is the total opposite of you and all that you stand for, is one of those few friends must be throwing you for a loop! The one person in your life you can trust…'

'Present company excluded of course!''

'Of course!'

'Like I told you, I'm useful…' Neal said uncomfortably.

'It's more than that, Neal; Peter Burke really cares for you. Oh, he won't admit it and he tries not to show it, but it's there. And I think it surprises him too. So, how did you two first meet?'

'A couple of banks had been robbed. Peter was the agent assigned to the case. I happened to be walking by afterwards…'

'You hang around after you rob banks?'

'I didn't say I robbed the bank, I said that a couple of banks had been robbed…'

'My apologies, continue, please.'

'I noticed an obvious FBI agent… Ill-fitting suit, atrocious, mismatched tie, complete with an air of moral superiority…' Neal explained at Frank's raised eyebrow. 'hanging around, questioning passers-by. I happened to be passing by so I stopped him and asked him what had happened. He told me the bank had been robbed but that my money was safe and that he would catch the person responsible. I thanked him and walked away.'

'And he let you?'

'Well he didn't know who I was at the time.'

'I bet he was furious when he found out that he had had you within his grasp…'

'Maybe at first, but afterwards I think he was intrigued. I know I was.'

'How so?'

'Well Peter was smart; he'd turn up almost as soon as a job was finished and he knew what evidence to look for and where to find it and also where to find me. Not that he could ever pin anything on me…'

'Did he get angry that you were playing him?'

'No, if anything he seemed to look forward to seeing me. Of course he told me to stop, to give up my criminal ways and always finished with the warning that he would eventually catch me and it was just a matter of time until I finally slipped up…'

'But you ignored his advice and kept on meeting him…'

'Yeah, but as I said, Peter was smart and there were a couple of times when he nearly had me.'

'The Rialto Bridge in Venice?'

'You know about that?'

'I've read the reports…'

'Mmm… That was pretty cool…' Neal said smiling to himself as he thought back to the expression on Peter's face as he vaulted over the side of the bridge and landed on a passing water taxi. 'He had been so certain he was going to catch me that time and then there was this look of disbelief as I jumped…

'So why did you keep taking the risk? Why stick around on the off-chance that you might get caught?'

'Because I'd never met anyone like Peter before. He was more than just clever, he had intuition and a feel for the case; he did his homework and learnt everything he could about me, personally, professionally, all the jobs I let him know about and a couple that I didn't and every time I met him, his eyes would light up as though he enjoyed not only the chase but also chasing me. It was very flattering and I'd never had anyone think that I was something clever and special before. And when I made my escape I would look back and wave and he would just stand there and smile like he was proud of me and that he knew that it was all a game.'

'So what went wrong?'

'Kate.'

'I'm sorry?'

'He knew I would do anything for Kate so he arranged for her to contact me and when I showed up he was waiting. She slipped away or maybe he let her go as he had the bigger prize, but that's how he caught me. I finally got to shake his hand.'

'He must have been ecstatic to have collared you after all those years.'

'He was smiling like the cat that got proverbial cream, but there was also something else, it almost seemed like he was sad…'

'Well he probably was. There you were, a young man of what, oh, 25? Giving the FBI the run-around, making his life interesting and exciting and finally it was over. You had been a worthy opponent and he was going to have to go back to his desk, catching criminals with no finesse, no personality, no charisma and presenting no challenge to him. There was also the possibility that he was sad for you personally, Neal. He knew that he had enough evidence to put you away and he probably thought what a waste of a talented young life that would be, sitting behind bars, doing no good for anyone.'

'Being in prison wasn't all bad; I learnt some new skills, made some new friends…'

'Yes… 'Frank said raising an eyebrow disapprovingly, his expression making it clear he didn't believe a word. 'And then you escaped… From a maximum security prison and with only three months left to go on your sentence…'

'Kate was in trouble. I had to help her…'

'And Peter caught you again.'

'In Kate's apartment.'

'And he arrested you again, put you back in prison, but a week later you were out.'

'I made him a deal; work for the FBI catching white collar criminals, in exchange for freedom of sorts – my two mile leash.' Neal explained lifting his pants leg to show Frank his tracking anklet.

'And was Peter happy to see you again?'

'He was happy when I found 'The Dutchman' for him.'

'No other reason?'

'He was happy when he dropped me off at that flea-ridden motel, when he thought I'd got what I deserved, but then I met June and moved into her house on Riverside Drive. Peter wasn't happy then because he felt I was living above my station; that I had gotten something that I hadn't worked for, something that he, despite all his hard work could never ever have.'

'But you got over your initial differences and now you work well together?'

'It's just a matter of knowing how to handle Peter; make him think that you're obeying all his rules and that he is the one in charge. He wants results but doesn't really want to know how they were obtained, after all what he doesn't know can't hurt him. He also has plausible deniability should the need ever arise, which it might have done… On several occasions…Allegedly…'

'So you break the law to help him?'

'Who said anything about breaking the law?'

'But you know he wouldn't approve of some of the things you've done?'

'That's why I don't tell him before I do them. Look! Peter's a good guy and I want to help get what he wants which is catching bad guys…'

'Like you?'

'I mean really bad guys; guys who use guns or violence to hurt people. And Peter's hampered by FBI rules which dictate how and when he can get the evidence he needs for a conviction. I'm not an FBI agent, therefore those rules don't apply to me.'

'So how does it work between you? You meet him at the office and give him your opinion on the case he's working on?'

'Sometimes, but normally he picks me up on the way to work and then we go into the briefing room together and he asks me how, theoretically of course, I might have pulled off a job or he asks for my suggestions on how to proceed or we brainstorm in his office…'

'The whole White Collar division?'

'No, that occurs in the team briefing. It's usually just Peter and me in his office.'

'Are you assigned to anyone else?'

'That happened once. It didn't work out very well for me. I was kidnapped and beaten up. Peter had to take over the case and come rescue me. Now I only work for him. It suits me. I know how he thinks, how he's going to act, what he's going to say. He's familiar and it's relaxing in an odd sort of way.' Neal said smiling fondly. 'Besides, he normally springs for lunch and coffee; dinner too occasionally unless he takes me home with him… Sometimes when we have to work late, then Elizabeth cooks.'

'Elizabeth?'

'Peter's wife.'

'He takes you home to eat with his wife? He likes to keep an eye on you then…'

'He used to make one of the junior agents follow me, but I would give them the slip so now I just hang with Peter. It makes him feel secure to think that I can't get up to any trouble when he's watching me all day or all night.'

'But you've got a tracking device on you…He knows where you are at all times of the day or night. He needn't take you home with him to socialize with his wife or treat you to lunch and dinner. He must enjoy your company.'

'Everyone enjoys my company. I'm very good at what I do!'

'You mean conning people? Is that all Peter is to you? Another one of your marks?'

'No! I like Peter. I like going home with him and spending time with him and Elizabeth. I like eating dinner with them, helping to clear up, making the coffee, watching a movie, hearing the sounds of them getting up the next morning; the coffee percolator, Elizabeth's hairdryer, Peter's electric shaver, the dog whining to be let out, the way they just let me into their home, include me in their life…'

'He lets you stay overnight too? Are you lonely, Neal?'

'Of course not!' He answered a little too quickly. 'I've got the whole of New York, well, two miles in all directions! What man in his right mind could be lonely in The Big Apple?'

'So what is Peter to you then? Boss? Friend? Substitute father? Big brother? All of the above or something else entirely…'

'I don't know what you're getting at…'

'Do you trust him?'

'Trust him to do what?'

'To help you, to look out for you, to protect you should the need arise. I imagine in your line of work, trust doesn't come easy. We've already established that Peter cares for you and by your own admission you want to help Peter just because it will make him happy…'

'It'll also keep me out of prison…'

'True, but there are rules pertaining to the management of CI's. He can't just throw you back in jail because you annoyed him one morning.'

'Peter says I annoy him every morning.'

'I've no doubt! But you know what I mean. Unless you violate the conditions of your parole, you're a free man… Okay, relatively free…' Frank corrected after Neal pointedly showed him the tracker again, 'for the next four years. So, I repeat my question: Do you trust Peter Burke?'

'I'd trust him with my life…' Neal said quietly.

'Good! So let's return to that Friday night at Wade's hotel.'

'Okay…' Neal said warily.

'Peter was in charge of the operation…'

'No, Ruiz was.'

'Ruiz from Organized Crime? How do you get on with him?'

'I don't.' Neal said darkly.

'Not a fan of your charm?'

'He refers to me as 'Burke's pet con'.

'Hmm, that sounds more like he's got something against Peter than you.'

'Well, he'd already roughed me up earlier in the evening just getting the wire put on, so I think he's got something against me too. It could have been a lot worse if Peter hadn't shown up when he did.'

'How so?'

'Ruiz had me up against wall with my arm pinned behind me. I thought he was going to dislocate my shoulder!'

'In his report Ruiz said you tried to escape…'

'He threatened to rip my clothes off…'

'You mentioned before that you didn't like hospitals because you had to take off your clothes. Do you have a problem with being naked?'

'Not at all. I like getting naked as much as the next man…It's just that Ruiz isn't exactly my idea of the sort of partner I'd choose.'

'But is he the right sex?'

'I have a girl-friend.' Neal said pleasantly and conveniently not answering Frank's obvious question.

'So you do; the infamous Kate. Has there been anyone since?'

'No. Kate's the one'

'But it's been what; nearly twelve months since you last saw her? And before that you were in prison for at least three years. Are you telling me you haven't been intimate with anyone for over four years?'

'Contrary to popular belief, jewellery, especially of the anklet variety isn't what most women are looking for on a man these days…'

'Oh come now, don't be coy Neal! We both know that a man with your looks, your charm, your skill-set; the anklet wouldn't even be an issue. You could pick yourself a partner from any bar you walked into…'

'Maybe I don't want the sort of partner you'd find in a bar…'

'You don't like bars? Or is it casual relationships you have the problem with…'

'I don't have a problem with either. But I told you, I already have a girl-friend.'

'What does Peter think about Kate?'

'Why should it matter what Peter thinks?'

'He's your partner; you trust him…'

'Just because I trust him doesn't mean I tell him every intimate detail of my private life.'

'According to you, you don't have a private life!'

'Touché!' Neal said sarcastically, raising his glass of water in a mock salute.

'I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. But what happens if Kate never comes back. How long are you going to remain celibate and alone?'

'She'll be back; she cares about me.' Neal said firmly.

'If you say so… Now let's go back to the other person who cares about you… What do you think Peter was looking for when he burst in through the door of Wade's hotel room?'

'I don't know. You'll have to ask him.'

'Unfortunately we can't since he's not here. However, I can ask you... So let me rephrase my question: What might Peter have been looking for?'

'Evidence! He was looking for the evidence we needed to put Wade away…'

'What would he have seen?'

'Bonds, bank accounts, tickets, destinations…'

'Neal, that's a paper trail. He'd get the FBI evidence team to search for that. What was the first thing he would have seen when he burst into the room?'

'Logan! He would have heard the gun shot and wanted to see if Logan was dead!'

'Possibly, but I don't think that would have been his first priority… Logan didn't work for him, wasn't one of his team… Come on Neal, think! You had a wire on so Peter could hear that things weren't going to plan when Wade took you up into his suite. He let you play the scene out for a while in the hope that you could get the goods on Wade but then it turned ugly. Peter heard a shot. He didn't know it was Logan who had taken the bullet. What was he looking for when he burst into the room?'

'Me! He was looking for me…'

'Yes! He was looking for you. Why?'

'He wanted to make sure I was okay.'

'That's right! You're his partner. He's responsible for you. He cares about you. So what would he have seen when he came into the room?'

'Wade and me by the desk.'

'And what was Wade doing?'

'He was holding me; restraining me.'

'How was he holding you?'

'By the arm. He was hurting my arm…'

'Where else?'

'I… I can't…I don't feel comfortable…'

'You said there were some bruises. Where were they?'

'My face…'

'Wade was restraining you. Where were his hands, Neal?'

'My hips! His hands were digging into my hips…'

'What did Peter do when he came into the room?'

'He gave me a blanket.'

'Why? Were you cold?'

'No… Maybe… Wade had made me take off my shirt to check that I wasn't wearing a wire.'

'What did Peter do before he gave you the blanket?'

'I don't know. I couldn't see him.'

'But you could hear him. What did he say?'

'He was shouting.'

'What was he shouting?'

'I… I can't remember. I didn't want him to… to see…'

'Didn't want him to see what?'

'Me. I didn't want him to see me. I didn't want him to have to see…He shouldn't have had to have seen…'

'What shouldn't he have seen, Neal?' Frank asked gently.

'He covered me with a blanket.'

'That's right…You said Wade made you take off your shirt. What else did he make you take off?'

'I tried to get away…'

'Did he take your pants down?'

'Peter shouldn't have had to see that!' Neal replied angrily.

'What didn't you want him to see?'

'I didn't want him to see me helpless. But Wade was holding me, hurting me…'

'How was he hurting you?'

'He was behind me, holding my hips…'

'What else? What would Peter have seen?'

'The bruises... I was naked…'

'What else?'

'Peter… Peter gave me a blanket…'

'What else would Peter have seen, Neal?'

'Wade was hurting me!'

'What else?'

'Wade was touching me… '

'What else?'

'Wade was… '

'Go on, Neal, you're nearly there…'

'There were some other injuries…' Neal whispered.

'That's right, Neal, there were some other injuries…'

And suddenly he wasn't in Frank's office anymore; he was back at Wade's hotel being forced face down, his body bent over the desk, a weight leaning on his spine. There was a gun pressed to the back of his head, his pants and underwear had been pushed down to his knees, he tried to move but Wade had his balls in a vice like grip and then something big and blunt was pressing up against his butt… Oh God! He couldn't move; there was a weight sitting on his chest; he couldn't breathe… And then there was a man's voice calling his name and he responded with all his might…

'Peter! Help me!'

But the voice was all wrong. It wasn't Peter and Peter was supposed to be here to protect him; he'd promised…'

There were some other injuries…

Peter, please help me…

He tried to get up but his limbs felt like they were made of lead. He tried to speak but his tongue felt too big for his mouth. His lips were tingling, his fingers were numb and then his vision started tunnelling; everything fading away, his whole world narrowing to a tiny circle of light…

And then the man's voice was there again; not Peter, yet comforting never the less.

'I'm sorry…' He whispered, wiping a shaky hand across his face.

'Don't apologize Neal, there's nothing to be sorry about. In fact, you should be congratulating yourself; you've made remarkable progress today!'

'I had another panic attack…' Neal reminded him.

'Meh! A trivial physiological response to a psychological stimulus.'

'Trivial? I passed out! Again!'

'So you did! Remind me one day to show you some strategies I think will help to stop you doing that.'

'Same time, same place next Monday?' Neal said miserably.

'No can do, Neal, this slot's reserved for people who need to be assessed after a trauma in the line of duty.'

'But, isn't that why I'm here?'

'It was, but I'm going to write a report to your superiors today recommending that come Monday you can to return to duty. You don't have to see me any more if you don't want to.'

'But, I passed out!'

'Yes! And you really need to stop doing that!'

'So I'm cured?'

'Not by a long shot! But I'm satisfied now that you understand what happened to you. And admitting it to yourself is the first step on the long road to recovery. I'm also recommending that you start some therapy to help you deal with all the feelings and emotions that are bound to surface in you if they haven't already after such a violent and traumatic event.'

'And if I don't want therapy?' Neal said lightly, testing the waters.

'Then no one's forcing you to come, Neal and no, it's not a condition or requirement that you attend before you can return to work. The offer's there if you want it and I sincerely hope you avail yourself of it but I won't be losing any sleep if you decide not to come!'

'Okay, thanks Frank! Can I… Can I let you know?' Neal said softly.

'But of course! Just give my secretary a call and schedule an appointment. Sparkling water?'

Neal rolled his eyes but picked up his glass with good humour.

Despite being eminently able at finding things to do to amuse himself, he had surprisingly missed going into the office every day. Moz would be horrified if he ever got wind of that and would accuse him of going over to the dark side and being under the thumb of the G-man. Neal smiled, because Moz would also have hysterics if he ever learned about what Peter did with his thumb and other parts of his anatomy in some of Neal's more recent dreams!

He took a sip of his water then smiled again. He couldn't wait to tell Peter that he had been cleared for duty and would be back in the office again on Monday.

Recovery: Day 99

It had been a long hectic day at the office and his mind when not actively engaged on official FBI business had strayed, as always of late it seemed, onto his ex-con consultant partner; how Neal was coping at work and at home and how together they were going to manage his PTSD so that eventually he could both have and enjoy sex again. He wanted to get Neal talking tonight, not about the rape itself, unless of course Neal wanted to talk about that which he strongly suspected he didn't, but more about sex in general, his likes and dislikes, but that was still dependent on whether Neal felt able to even broach the subject after what had happened to him let alone have an in depth discussion…

He followed Neal up the stairs to his roof-top apartment at June's house, his mind running through all the things that El had talked to him about on Monday. He hadn't planned on anything physical happening between them today which is why he wasn't expecting to be pulled roughly into Neal's room by his tie and then pushed unceremoniously backwards causing his body to stagger, his arms to flail until he smacked into the wall behind him. He barely registered the door being kicked shut before both sides of his jaw were grabbed and then Neal's mouth was on his…

He had wanted to take it slow and sit Neal down and tell him 'the rules' about how he thought this relationship should progress but now he wasn't sure that he could even remember his own name let alone what the rules were because Neal's hot, wet, eager little tongue was in his mouth and the rest of Neal was writhing over and around the front of his body and Jesus Christ! Was that Neal's erection he could feel rubbing up against his own?

'Wait…' He said finally managing to dislodge his mouth from Neal's.

'I've been waiting for this all week, Peter…' Neal said in that sexy, husky, half-whisper, his pupils dilated and his cheeks flushed with desire as he gazed hungrily up at him.

And before he could even think how beautiful Neal looked just standing there in the half-light of the dusky New York evening, Neal's lips were back on his and that sinful, silver-edged tongue was thrusting in and out in his mouth sending his libido into overdrive and causing him once again to forget everything else except the beautiful, exotic creature in front of him.

He stood there not moving; hands by his sides for several more minutes letting Neal take what he wanted, letting Neal ravish him (God! Neal was a good kisser – small wonder that nobody was able resist him what with those looks and that mouth…) before his common sense re-exerted itself once more.

'Hey…' He said breathlessly, putting his hands over the top of Neal's and pulling them away from his face. 'We need to stop and talk about what we're doing…'

'No, we don't. You put me in charge remember? And I like kissing you; you taste so good… So that's what I want; that and taking you into the bedroom and getting rid of some of these awful clothes. So come on…' Neal said impatiently, grabbing Peter's hand and pulling him away from the wall.

And before Peter knew what was happening, he had been turned around and Neal's lips were back on his and he was being half-walked, half-pushed but thoroughly kissed, backwards until his legs hit the bed behind him and a little shove to his chest from Neal made him collapse down on it; his arms going out to break his fall, while Neal's nimble fingers were already at his neck, loosening and removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing both shirt and jacket off his shoulders in one go.

Peter helpfully pulled the sleeves the rest of the way off his arms, then toed off his shoes and moved up the bed to rest back against the headboard giving him a beautiful view of Neal who was now removing his own clothes. Jacket, vest and tie were quickly shed and placed carefully on the chair beside the full-length mirror followed by shoes and socks before he turned back to Peter.

'And your shirt, Neal…' Peter told him softly.

There was a split-second hesitation before the shirt was also removed and folded neatly with the other articles of clothing. Neal once more turned to face Peter, standing there; a bare-chested, pale-skinned Adonis; with perfect pecs, beautifully muscled shoulders and arms and those tight and toned abs with just a hint of dark hair running down from his belly button leading the eye to focus beneath the waistband of his suit pants where a distinct bulge could be seen.

Peter so desperately wanted to touch his own erection but dared not do anything to spoil the mood so instead he moved his hands from where they were laced behind his head and clenched them into fists at his sides and remained still watching Neal, whose exquisite looks just about took his breath away.

'God! You're so beautiful…'

Neal's smile lit up the room. He climbed onto the bed and straddled Peter's thighs, lowering his weight gently onto Peter's groin. He gave an experimental little half-thrust with his hips causing Peter to gasp at the sensation of his dick touching Neal's before Neal leant forward and kissed him again.

And then Neal's body was all over him; smooth, hairless chest pressing down on his, hands gripping his face and fingers running through his hair, feet stroking up and down his calves, stubble on that chiselled jaw rubbing across his five o'clock shadow, hot, wet tongue sliding in and out of his mouth and hot, hard, dick thrusting up against his own erection causing a wondrous and breath-taking friction; Peter was in heaven; the smell, the taste, the feel of him… God! This was what he had been waiting for…

And then suddenly it was all too much; He felt his balls drawing up, felt that tingle associated with the final spurt of pre-come heralding the imminent onset of ejaculation... He wrenched his mouth away from Neal's and pushed at his shoulders.

'Neal…You gotta stop…else I'm gonna… Fuck! Too late! I'm gonna come, Jesus! I'm gonna come…'

Neal's eyes widened momentarily before he pushed himself up on outstretched arms, his pelvis still aligned with Peter's and redoubled his efforts at thrusting. The increased force and speed of Neal's thrusts on Peter's already highly aroused and stimulated cock immediately sent him hurtling over the edge, orgasm overwhelming his brain, semen spurting from his spasming prick, gasping and cursing as he shot his load into his shorts.

'Jesus! Jesus! Fuck! Neal… Oh God! Neal…'

Neal showed no signs of stopping his frantic rocking even when Peter had collapsed back on the bed coming down as he was from his orgasm-induced endorphin high. And while the continued friction had been nice while he had been climaxing, milking every last little drop of semen and sensation from his dick, it was now making him a bit sore. But something wasn't right with the way Neal was breathing. He wasn't hyperventilating like he did when he normally got upset, in fact, it was almost the opposite; deep and slow and almost trance-like in its regularity which contrasted completely with the frenzied movements the lower half of his body was still performing.

'Hey, slow down, I'm a little sensitive here…' Peter said wincing as he shifted his pelvis upward and out of the line of fire.

'Sorry, but …I'm nearly there…' Neal replied in a strained voice, quickly moving off Peter and sitting backwards on his heels on the bed and immediately continuing to stimulate himself using the palm of his hand by rubbing furiously over the front of his pants.

Neal continued his trance-like breathing strangely at odds with the hectic stroking of his groin. His jaw was clenched causing the muscles in his neck to stick out like cords, his chest was damp with sweat and his hair had flopped forward into his flushed face. And as beautiful as he looked in the throes of passion, something was very wrong about this whole scenario and Peter was becoming increasingly worried about Neal's current state of mind.

'Neal…' He said softly.

He reached forward and placed his hand on Neal's thigh. Neal jumped and Peter felt the large muscles of his quadriceps twitch beneath his hand.

'Calm down, Buddy.' Peter told him, keeping his tone of voice low and unthreatening.

He started to stroke Neal's leg, gently running his hand up and down his thigh.

'I can't… I, I just need…need to finish…'

Neal's eyes were wide and his mouth was trembling. He looked frustrated and desperate and then he raised himself up onto his knees, unbuckled and unzipped his pants, slipped his hand down into his underwear and began stimulating himself directly. His breathing was uncoordinated now; short and shallow panting followed by irregular deep gasps as he furiously fisted his cock with one hand, the other coming up to rub over his nipples as if that would give him the extra little bit of erotic sensation he needed to reach his climax.

And then Neal let out a strangled cry full of frustration and despair and it reminded Peter somehow of a wounded animal, captured, caged and tortured, with no hope of ever escaping. Once again Peter mentally cursed the men that had done this to Neal, made him have to live through this almost unbearable emotional pain day after day, made him fear any sort of intimacy, made him doubt himself and wonder if he would ever recover and be able to live a normal life again.

Neal sank back on his heels, his head bowed in defeat, his whole body trembling. His pants were still open, yet there was no evidence now of his earlier erection. It seemed then that Neal was able to get aroused and if his stories were to be believed could achieve orgasm when on his own, yet when with a partner, something in his mind prevented him from being able to climax and upset him to the extent that eventually he wasn't able to maintain an erection at all. How embarrassing for him, how frustrating, how worrying that must be for any man but especially one of Neal's young age.

'It's okay to be angry…' Peter told him quietly.

Neal gave a hollow mocking laugh.

'Congratulations! For once you surprised me, Peter; I was betting that the first words out of your mouth were going be something along the lines of 'it will get better'. He said sarcastically, getting off the bed and zipping up his pants with shaking hands.

'I debated using that one...' Peter replied equally sarcastically, 'But while I ultimately believe it to be true,' His voice softened, 'I'm not sure that you do at the moment…'

'Don't…' Neal warned him darkly while putting his shirt back on.

'Don't what?'

'Don't try and psycho-analyse me. For one thing, you're notoriously bad at it and secondly, you've got no idea what you're talking about. You don't know what happened to me.'

'I wouldn't dare try and analyse you.' Peter said dryly. 'For one thing, I'm exceptionally bad at it and secondly, you're right, I don't know what happened to you, because you haven't told me, but you've given me enough hints to let me make a pretty good guess. And the great Neal Caffrey doesn't make mistakes like that or let things slip or give out hints unless it's part of a bigger plan so I can only assume that on some level you must want me to know, Neal.'

'No! That's not true. I don't want you to know. I don't want anyone to know…'

'And that's your prerogative. Look, is all I'm saying is that if something happened to you in prison, if someone hurt you or did something to you against your will, something that you had no control over, then you have every right to be angry about that. And you don't have to hide it from me while we're up here, together.'

'Okay.'

And Peter couldn't tell if that was an 'okay' to thank him or an 'okay' to get him to shut up so that Neal didn't have to listen to him talking about things that might just trigger another flashback.

Peter watched Neal shudder, then take a deep breath in and run his hand through his hair, getting himself back in control. A few seconds later he turned around with the poorest excuse for a smile pasted on his face that Peter had ever seen. He wouldn't be able to con anyone, let alone Peter who was more or less fluent in the non-verbal facial expressions and body language 'spoken' by Neal Caffrey, that he was alright looking like that.

'Peter, I'm sorry about just now. But I really thought that everything was going to work out tonight. I just can't understand why it's all so difficult, why nothing works for me except when I'm on my own…'

'And I can't understand how you could seriously think it would be otherwise! Neal…I don't know what happened to you in prison…'

'Nothing…'

Peter put his hand out to forestall Neal's denial.

'And this isn't my way of asking you to tell me, but if it was anything remotely similar to what happened with Wade; by which I mean that you were forced, then anything that you associate with sex is going to be difficult for you. And I don't think that is going to change if you just continue trying to make yourself have sex with me, trying to climax and then feeling you've failed if you can't. This isn't a difficulty that you can just overcome by will power alone at least not if you want to enjoy sex again and not if you want to recover and get better. Besides, good sex doesn't always have to include an orgasm.'

'That's easy for you to say,' Neal muttered. 'You got off!'

'Yes… And I haven't come in my pants since I was a teenager; that's how excited you make me! But since you brought it up… Perhaps now is as good a time as any to start instigating 'the rules'.'

Neal suddenly looked very wary.

'I don't like the sound of that. You know I'm generally not a rule sort of a guy, Peter…'

'I know, yet surprisingly you respond so beautifully to authority! So… Rule number one is that if you don't get off, then I don't get off either.'

'That's a stupid rule! There's no point in both of us being unhappy and frustrated. Just because I can't come, doesn't mean that you shouldn't be able to, besides, I liked it when you came today. I think about making you come all the time, you know, when I'm alone…' Neal said suggestively, his voice suddenly low and husky.

Peter cleared his throat trying to get rid of the extremely arousing mental image of Neal, flying solo, on his bed, masturbating.

'And Rule number two is that you don't try and make me come as quick as you can in the hope that I'll forget about touching you in my blissed-out post-orgasmic state so that it will all be over as quick as possible, without any flashbacks but without any progress either. Because much as I like you dragging me into the room by my tie, kissing me senseless or going down on me until both my head and my dick explode…

'Is that your fantasy about me, Peter? Me on my knees, sucking you off? Nice! Do you think about that when you see me at the office?'

'As I said…' Peter reiterated going slightly red in the face at Neal's graphic description of what was indeed his dirty little fantasy, 'As much as I would enjoy… that particular activity among others, this thing between us, this relationship we have up here when we're together in your apartment is firstly about you and getting you better so that one day you can just blow me as soon as I get in the door and then I can return the favour…So what do you think?'

'Mmm… Blow-jobs!' Neal said dreamily, his eyes glazing over.

'Jesus! You're like a magpie distracted by shiny things! I meant the rules…'

'There seems to be too many rules and not enough orgasms... for either of us!' Neal said pouting.

'My game, my rules.'

'What happened to 'you're in charge in the bedroom, Neal?''

'Oh you'll still be in charge of what we do, it's just that I'll be in charge of what we don't do.'

'But what if the two are mutually exclusive?'

'As I said, my game, my rules.'

'At the risk of coming across as self-absorbed, Peter, I thought this was supposed to be about me! I don't see how I'm meant to learn to enjoy having sex again if I'm not allowed to do any of the things I enjoy; like, for example, giving you a blow-job.'

'You can give me a blow-job at any time Neal, but then I'm going to want to do the same to you. I'm going to want to pull your pants down and take your cock into my mouth and to do that I'm going to need to touch you; touch your hips and thighs, your cock and balls and maybe even run my hands over your ass…'

Peter noticed that Neal had stopped with the provocative and confrontational banter, in fact had stopped moving altogether and was standing stiffly, staring at him wide-eyed. He also noticed that his breathing pattern had changed. He was doing that long, slow, trance-like thing again. That must be one of his coping strategies to help him ward off an impending panic attack. Jesus! The kid couldn't even think about being touched without getting a flashback.

'And I'm not sure you're quite ready for that yet, hmm?'

Neal swallowed noticeably then gave a minute shake of his head.

'Okay, then. So as of tomorrow, we're going to start doing things my way.'

'But, you said I would be in control…' Neal said, his voice high-pitched and panic-stricken.

'I think that you'll have to agree that you have been. And how do you feel that worked out for you?'

'I've already apologized for tonight, Peter…'

'But this isn't just about tonight, is it Neal? Look! We've tried it your way twice now…'

'Yes, but…'

'And neither time did it end well for you.'

'I know, but…'

'So why don't we try it my way for once? I promise I won't do anything that you're not comfortable with.'

Neal looked at him suspiciously, obviously unconvinced.

'Good!' Peter said cheerfully, slapping the front of his thighs as he stood up. 'Now that we've settled that and have agreed upon 'the rules', I think I'll have that beer you offered me.'

Neal shot him another dubious look, this one even more sceptical than the last, but wisely chose to remain silent as he padded out to the kitchen to get Peter his drink.