Work Text:
Title: Issues of Consent
Author: Ursula
Rating: FRAO
Genre and/or Pairing: Neal Caffrey and Moz
Notes: Written for the Collar Kink Meme
Spoilers: None
Warnings: There are issues of consent, but not a non con.
Summary: Someone drugs Neal with something that has him needing sex now. Peter dumps Neal on Moz and runs for the hill. Moz would never but Neal is begging and Moz is drunk.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including Jeff Eastin and USA television. 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.
Issues of Consent
Moz woke from a sound sleep to the sound of Neal's laughter, not an unfamiliar way to wake at all. Peter Burke's gruff voices said, "I'm glad you're here, Haversham. Listen, someone doped Neal with roofies. I got the guy and Neal doesn't want to go to the hospital and..."
"Get your hand out of my fly, Neal!" Burke said.
"I need, I need, I need," Neal chanted, his long body all over Burke who was red faced, trying to be gentle, but not able to handle the octopus that Neal had turned into.
"For god's sake, do not let him outside," Burke said.
"I need a fuck," Neal said. "Please, Peter, you could ask El. She would have mercy. Come on, come on."
"For the love of!" Burke disengaged, shoved Neal at Moz and asked, "Can you take care of him?"
Moz nodded, grabbing Neal by the wrists. "How about a bath? You want to take a bath, Neal?"
"Cold shower would be my advice," Burke said, gratefully taking the coward's way out in rapid retreat.
The door slammed and Moz was left with his dreamboat, who was now gazing at him with a demented look in his bright blue eyes. The last time Neal had that expression in his eyes there was a Matisse stolen, a barely legal girl romanced, a creep made a buffoon to the point of wanting to kill the three of them.
Burke was wrong. It wasn't roofies. It was something more diabolical because Neal was not merely cooperative. He was a nympho.
By the time, Moz got the bath run; he had several shots of courage. He was drunk in plain language. Not so drunk that he didn't jolt when he had a naked Neal in his arms, the taste of forbidden fruit in his mouth.
"Moz, dear Moz, kind Moz, please fuck me, because I can’t stand this, because I need it. Moz, my Moz, faithful friend."
Moz had never been able to refuse Neal anything. Knowing it was wrong, knowing that there were better choices, Moz undressed and hurried to Neal's white clad bed, that always struck Moz as the fluffy reaches of a virginal citadel.
There was no way to resist, no time for second thoughts. Neal was a whirlwind, an angel of lust. His kisses, his caresses, the way his flesh parted for Moz, Moz could believe it was all for him except that Neal still breathed 'Peter' when he came.
The first time was so rushed that it seemed but a dream. The second time was the stuff of nightmares and dreams all mingled into one haze of lust and longing. This time, Neal said as he came, "My Moz, you always give me what I need."
Which was what put Moz over the edge. He came with the words that said Neal knew who he was fucking, that it was okay. That he was somewhere in Neal's lexicon of love.
Satiated, Neal finally at rest, Moz walked from the bed, scrubbed the forbidden scent of the man he loved from his body.
The gin bottle was empty when Moz woke, head aching, mouth dry, and body wrung, weary, wasted.
The shower stopped running and suddenly Neal was standing there in his favorite sweatpants that barely clung to his hips. A glass of tomato juice was shoved at Moz who barely covered his mouth and got to the toilet in time. He clung to the very clean porcelain edge even after he flushed and he stopped heaving.
Neal was standing over him.
"Moz," Neal said.
"I raped you," Moz said. "I fucking raped you and how can you stand to look at me."
"Moz, I asked you for it," Neal said.
"You were drugged," Moz said.
"I was in need and you gave me what I needed," Neal said. "I still need you. I need you to be Moz, my friend, my companion, who has never deserted me. Come on. Rinse your mouth, my friend. Brush your teeth."
Burke called when Moz came out. Neal said, "I really am not up to it, Peter. I'm just all wrung out and Moz was up all night with me. Just give me a day?"
"Thank you, Peter, yes, you're safe and it's all out of my system. What? Really?"
After Neal hung up, he said, "I was right. El chewed him out for leaving me hanging. What a woman!"
"Bet you wish that Peter had called his wife last night."
"Not really," Neal said. He handed Moz a glass of water and some B vitamins. "Because if you stop guilting over last night, you would see what I see."
"What? That I'm the biggest jerk on the planet?"
"No, that you will always try to come through for me. No matter what. Even if it distresses you. You will."
"Neal, come on, man," Moz argued. "Like you didn't know I wanted that."
"But you were afraid to ask," Neal replied. "So now you know the world doesn’t end and we're still friends. It’s just another thing I owe you in a long list."
Moz shook his head. "Neal."
"Moz. Put it on a shelf. I need you just the way you are," Neal said and, cruel kindness, he sealed it with a kiss.
Because it was Neal. Because the rest of the world paled to Neal. Moz could do it. Put aside his guilt and the edge of anger that it should have at least contained enough passion to change things between them, but it didn't.
Moz put himself back into the skin of the nerdy sidekick.
Scraps from a feast were a beggar's delight.
The End