tj_teejay: (Neal - Sweet Dreams)
[personal profile] tj_teejay
Title: The Possibility Of Happy Endings
Author: TeeJay
[livejournal.com profile] whitecollar100 Prompt: #54 Sweat
Genre: Het
Characters/Pairings: Neal/EFC or Neal/OFC (see A/N)
Word Count: 300
Rating: Borderline R for sexual content
Warning: See rating, but this isn't all that explicit
Summary: She responded, and his brain completely blanked. He felt a trickle of sweat run down his spine—he'd forgotten to switch on the A/C in the morning...
Author's Note: EFC stands for "established female character", OMC for "original female character". Before you read this, you should paint a picture in your head as to which woman you would like to see Neal get it on with, and then put that female in this story, which is why I have intentionally left the female character anonymous. This partly stems from the fact that a number of fans would rather see Neal with someone other than Sara, so I thought it'd be a good compromise to leave this open for everyone to "bring their own".
Also, I don't usually write Het—or explicit stories, but this prompt basically screamed for something a little hotter. This isn't too explicit, though. It's probably safe to read if graphic fanfic sex isn't your thing but you don't mind some making out. :-x
And, uhm, if you're looking for something that has a real plot... look elsewhere in my Fanfic Master List. :-P
Disclaimer: White Collar, its characters and its settings belong to Jeff Eastin and USA Network. And, guys? Your characters are not only welcome, they're wonderful. I'm just borrowing, I promise.
 
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It had been a long time since he'd felt anything like this. Probably since Kate, but he didn't really want to think about her. Not that he could think about her. This desire—familiar, yet new—was all-consuming, leaving nothing but lust in his brain.

His hands found her hips just above the waistband of her jeans, then moved up along the skin underneath her camisole, drawing her closer. Her breath brushed his cheek. His lips found hers—softly at first, then hungrier, more forceful.

She responded, and his brain completely blanked. He felt a trickle of sweat run down his spine—he'd forgotten to switch on the A/C in the morning, and the sun shining through the skylights had warmed the rooftop apartment during the day.

"Neal," she breathed when he briefly drew back to come up for air, and it sounded like it could mean anything.

His hands fumbled with her top, because it needed to come off. She was already tugging at his polo shirt, pulling it over his head. His eyes barely caught on the dark red bra she was wearing, the color of a perfect glass of Pétrus, and he drew in a breath of air as her hands expertly ran over his back, digging hungrily into his shoulders. He almost protested when she moved away and took his hand.

Together they tumbled onto the bed, and even though he didn't realize it then, Neal would later find how much he'd missed this. Not just the physical intimacy, it was the feeling of being desired, being loved. He also realized he didn't want it to go away. Even though Moz, the eternal cynic, had once told him happy endings weren't for people like them, he liked the idea of Moz possibly being wrong for once.
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