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They Know How to Take Care of You in Brooklyn

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The day after Christie left for her two-month stint in Boston, Diana stayed late catching up on paperwork. Sure, there were probies for that, and Neal, and Jones in a pinch, but the silence of the apartment unnerved her, so the plan was to spend as little time in it as possible.

This worked for two nights.

On Wednesday, a certain C.I. plunked a chair in front of her desk, straddled the back of it, tapped her blotter and said, "All right, what gives?"

She didn't look up, and inwardly cursed the advanced observational skills of a highly successful confidence man. "Hello to you too, Neal," she said.

"Don't stall."

Diana glanced around. "Not here," she said. "Not now."

Neal nodded. As he rose from his chair, he called out to Jones.

"Yeah?"

"We're taking Diana out for drinks tonight."

Jones cocked his head and peered at Neal. Diana couldn't blame him; she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times the three of them had been out together socially. Diana looked up and met his eyes, and he nodded.

"Sounds good," he said.


She'd had two glasses of wine. She wasn't hungover. She wasn't a lightweight.

Neal, being Neal, had taken full advantage of his company to drag them down to some trendy place in TriBeCa that was just outside his tracker range, but he also got them a quiet private table in the VIP section. Telling the guys that Christie had said she needed a "break", that she had started thinking about forever but wasn't sure about being an FBI wife, broke through the dam she'd carefully constructed. And when Neal gently asked if that break was a seeing-other-people break and she nodded, that's when the tears came.

She cried on Jones's shoulder in the bar, on Neal's shoulder in the cab, and when she got home she cried on the pillow that still smelled like Christie. Who knew that shedding three days of tears in a single crying jag would lead to bloodshot eyes, dehydration, and a headache that rivalled any boarding school nights she'd misspent in the company of Smirnoff's finest? Diana had never cried like this over a woman before. Then again, she'd never been with one she was so afraid to lose.

The last thing Neal had said to her when he deposited her at her door was, "Tell Peter."

He didn't have to say, "He'll be hurt if you don't." She knew that.

As soon as she got in she went straight up to Peter's office with a cup of coffee for each of them, and shut his door behind her. After she related her tale of woe he nodded and leaned forward.

"You know we're here for you," he said. "Me, Elizabeth, Neal—"

"And Jones. I know, boss. Neal and Jones took me out last night."

"And Jones, of course, and Jones," Peter said. "So we'll finally get you out to Brooklyn? Wiling to cross a bridge and or tunnel?" he asked, smiling.

"I've been out there!" Diana protested.

"Not in a while," Peter said. "And try not to worry too much about Christie if you can help it. I've seen the way she looks at you, but if she can't handle the job that's no good."

"No."

"All right. Well, I'll tell El, and then she'll probably call you and make plans."

Diana smiled and cocked her head. "You don't make the plans, boss?"

Peter looked up out of the corner of his eye. "I do as I'm told," he said. "And so do you, so get back to work."

"Yes, sir," Diana replied, laughing as she stood up.

"Oh and uh, could you get Neal in here for me?" Peter asked.

"Sure thing," she said.

After his behind-closed-glass-door confab with Peter, which included a conference call of some sort, Neal stopped by Diana's desk.

"You all right tonight?" he asked. "We could—"

"Yes," she said. "Dinner with an old friend." And that was true—a fellow diplomat brat who'd stayed in the family business and worked at the UN, and was squarely pro-Christie. She needed shoring up from someone who wouldn't tear Christie down. Which was not unlike her FBI friends—even Neal had been around long enough to understand the toll the Bureau could take on even the most solid of relationships.

Except Peter and Elizabeth, of course.


On Friday morning Elizabeth swept into the office and took Diana to lunch—a wine tasting, she said, and when Diana balked she added, "It's Friday, you've had a long week, and Peter already knows. Anyway no one gets drunk at these things."

Diana felt managed (three parts unsettling, two parts comforting) but decided to just go with it.

And after sips of four sauvignon blancs, five reislings, a few roses, and a couple of vinho verdes, she had the distinct impression that Elizabeth was flirting with her. There was a good deal of hair-flipping and leaning in close to murmur in Diana's ear. She accepted a Sunday brunch invitation, and while the peck on the cheek was perfectly friendly, the hand lingering on her arm, not so much. But maybe it was the wine.

Elizabeth put her in a cab, and back at the office Peter, who was on his cell phone, took one look at her and said, "Neal, take this woman out for coffee."

"On it," he said, steering her right back to the elevators—she hadn't even sat down. She wasn't that drunk and Peter had approved the lunch, so Diana pouted a little, feeling unfairly scolded.

It was odd, a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf in New York, and Neal's affinity for it implied some time spent in California. Diana wondered about that; he seemed so Europe-oriented. He got them lattes (on the Bureau, she was sure) and asked about her lunch, and before she knew it—damn him and his con man ways, seriously—she admitted her wondering about Elizabeth.

"Oh, she was flirting with you," Neal said.

Diana's surprise must have shown because he started shaking his head.

"I told them they should tell you first, but no, Elizabeth had to 'gauge interest'," he said, his fingers marking the scare quotes. "Which you showed, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"What?" Diana asked, feeling a step behind and cursing the wine, again.

"You flirted back, didn't you?"

"I always flirt back with married women," Diana said. "It's fun, it's flattering, and it's very safe."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Even the boss's wife?"

"Peter trusts me, so Elizabeth can trust me. But she's never flirted with me before. Not like that, anyway."

"Yeah, so," Neal said, "the thing they didn't tell you is that they're not exactly monogamous."

Diana didn't even try to hide her surprise this time. "And you know this because …"

Neal smiled, just a little, as if he couldn't help himself. "And I know this because."

"How long?" she asked.

"A little while after Kate died."

Diana nodded. She wasn't particularly surprised by that part of the revelation, really; when she'd come out to Peter, about five minutes after they met, he'd told her he was bisexual. Neal had told her that night in the hotel room. Elizabeth's sexuality had never come up, but it made a kind of sense to her. It was against regulations to have a sexual relationship with your C.I., but they'd all been pushing it on the emotional side of things for so long that Diana wasn't sure what difference this actually made—and it certainly wasn't keeping Peter from cracking down on Neal when he needed to.

"So Sunday brunch is a hook up?" she asked.

"If you want it to be. Elizabeth would have given you this whole speech then, but I figured you'd want to know now."

"How'd you figure that?'

"You're a Fed. You like having all the information before you walk into something."

"And you don't?"

"I don't expect to."

"And where would you and Peter come into it?"

"Wherever you want," he said. "Your comfort zone, your rules. You want us out of the picture, we're out. You want us to watch or even participate, we'd be happy to do that, too." He grinned.

She leaned in a little closer. "And what if I wanted to watch you?"

He smiled even wider, preening a bit. "I'm sure that can be arranged," he replied. "But know that Elizabeth will tell Peter everything that goes on. That's part of their deal."

"And how does that work for you?"

"Pretty well, actually," he replied.


Diana visited a friend in the Jersey suburbs Saturday night, but brunch was never far from her mind. She couldn't think of a reason not to go—at least, not one that could compete with her curiosity. She knew, deep in her bones, that Peter would never let anything interfere with the job, and certainly whatever he had going with Neal didn't keep him from always having an eye on him.

She stopped on her way to Brooklyn to buy flowers, avoiding the pale roses Christie favored for some bright Gerbera daisies that seemed more Elizabeth's style. After all, you brought flowers to a date, didn't you? She could feel the butterflies in her stomach as she rang the bell, and thought how amused Peter would be, to see his cool, calm junior agent nervous over his own wife.

Then Elizabeth answered the door, all warm hospitality, and Diana wondered what she'd been worried about.

"These are lovely," she said, taking the flowers. "Have a seat while I get a vase for them."

Diana perched on the couch and watched Elizabeth move in and out of the kitchen. Elizabeth wore a deep blue wrap dress that hugged every curve as she stretched to place the vase in the center of the table. Diana wondered what either of them were waiting for. She stood.

"Can we hold on the food for a bit?" she asked.

"Sure," Elizabeth said, coming back into the living room. "I made a strata, nothing that can't wait."

"Good," Diana said, waking around the coffee table so that she was quite close to Elizabeth. "Because I hate fucking on a full stomach."

Elizabeth's smile curled up at the edges, changing from friendly to sultry, and Diana suddenly felt weak-kneed. She placed her hands on Elizabeth's shoulders. "Then I'm glad you said something," Elizabeth said, and leaned in for a kiss.

Diana could sense the way Elizabeth was going to open up to her by the way her lips parted, inviting Diana's tongue insides. She wrapped her arms around Elizabeth's waist and pulled her closer, wanting to feel those lush curves pressed up against her, so different than Christie's lean angles.

"Couch," Elizabeth mumbled, and Diana pulled back. "If only to take my shoes off," she continued, smiling.

"Just shoes?" Diana asked, reaching down to until the sash on Elizabeth's wrap dress. As it fell open Elizabeth pushed it from her shoulders and draped it over a nearby chair, slipping out of her shoes as she did so. Underneath she wore a lacy black bra … and nothing else. Diana raised her eyebrows.

Elizabeth shrugged. "They were going to come off anyway," she said.

She made quick work of Diana's clothing before pulling them both onto the couch, and while Diana had been ready to take care of Elizabeth, not knowing when was the last time she'd had a woman in her bed, Elizabeth gave as good as she got. Diana could tell by the way she moved, by the sexy little smile on her face for most of the proceedings, that Elizabeth was an up-for-anything sort of lady, and that Peter was a goddamned lucky so-and-so.

Or, not really. He deserved it.

Afterward, they lay on the couch panting, Elizabeth wrapped around her, when Diana glanced up at the staircase and saw Neal peeking down at them. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a thumbs-up sign, and she had to roll her eyes but she returned it, and he grinned.

He came down the stairs then, Peter following close behind. They were wearing robes and had two more in their arms for Diana and Elizabeth, which they put down on the coffee table in front of them. Peter sat in one of the chairs, crossing his legs so he wouldn't flash Diana, and Neal settled down on the floor next to him. It wasn't until then that she realized that they'd been upstairs waiting out Diana and Elizabeth, probably having sex themselves, and really, what was her life?

"So Diana, I know Neal brought this up, but I want to reassure you," Peter said, using the same tone as he did at work, "that any involvement from Neal or myself is entirely up to you. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. You're calling the shots."

She smiled up at him, because seeing that he was exactly the same talking about his open marriage and her fucking his wife in his house as he was at work, as he was all the time, made her feel warm inside. "I think I'd just like you to watch, for now, if that's okay. And watch you in return."

Neal nodded. "Yeah, that's absolutely okay."

"Neal," Peter said, turning his head ever so slightly.

"Sorry," Neal replied, but his smile didn't fade.

Peter shook his head. "Whatever you want is fine, Diana."

Elizabeth stirred, and pushed herself up to her knees. "Well, what I want is to get the strata out of the warming oven and eat some lunch."

"That sounds good, too," Peter said.

So they put robes on and moved to the dining table, where Neal poured a very nice rosé and Peter put out a big bowl of crisp greens. They ate and talked and laughed and it was easy, not awkward at all, and she knew that was all down to Elizabeth, and the way her easy grace could hold Neal's charm and Peter's earnestness and Diana's directness all in balance, as if they'd always been doing this.

Later, Diana was coming out of the shower, having dressed, when she caught Peter's voice saying, low:

"Proud of you, honey."

And Diana wondered if the entire thing hadn't been Peter's idea from the start.


After that Diana was in Brooklyn fairly regularly, work permitting—at least four days a week and often more. It was a little overwhelming, the way Peter and Elizabeth just took her in, the way Neal made a space for her. They weren't always fucking—they watched movies sometimes—but they did have a lot of sex. Elizabeth usually started it; she was a woman who knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was Diana getting her off while Peter and Neal put on a show, though there were variations in the actual business of how that happened. Peter and Elizabeth weren't that different in bed than they were out of it, than they were all the time. But Neal was even more flirtatious, almost coquettish, like a prized courtesan who served at the pleasure of his king and queen. It was a little bit of an act, to be sure, but Peter and Elizabeth allowed it just as they allowed Diana to do whatever she needed.

Besides, Neal just really liked being fucked. Most of the time that was the show, Neal getting fucked by Peter, and there was no topping from the bottom there. Neal took it however Peter wanted to give it to him and moaned, sometimes begged, for more, especially when Peter went slowly and got Neal really strung out before wrapping a hand around Neal's cock and making him come. Peter's self-control wasn't surprising, but the way he used it to take care of everyone else was eye-opening.

Even when Neal fucked Peter he followed Peter's lead, or maybe it was Elizabeth's lead as she had quite a dirty mouth on her when she wanted to. One day Neal had Peter bent over the side of the bed and was drilling him, making the bed shake with the strength of his thrusts. The striped wool blanket, usually the first thing to go as it was pretty but scratchy, was still spread across the foot of the bed such that Peter's skin dragged along it, each thrust pushing his cock against the bedding.

Diana was sitting in the large easy chair, and Elizabeth was reclining in Diana's arms, half sitting on her lap and half on the ottoman. She was rubbing Diana's legs, pushing her bottom up against her, and was looking into her husband's eyes while talking, well, a blue streak:

"You love that, don't you, honey?" she said. "You need to be spread open by a big cock like that."

"So … full," Peter mumbled.

"Fuck him hard, Neal," she said. "You know that's how he likes it. Get your hand on his back and push him down into that bed."

Neal did as he was told and Peter whimpered.

"Is that blanket scratching up your nipples, honey?" Elizabeth asked. "And your cock, and your balls behind it?"

"Fuck," Neal said.

"Push him harder," Elizabeth ordered. "He loves it. It's going to make you come, isn't it, honey? Getting fucked into that scratchy blanket."

"Gonna come," Peter said, and then he did, his shouts muffled by the blanket. Neal didn't last much longer, collapsing against him. Neal slipped out and rolled over onto the soft sheets, taking Peter with him, and Diana could just see as Peter moved that his skin was red from the friction. But he was smiling as he kissed Neal.

"Don't worry, honey," he said. "I'll wash the blanket."

Not that Peter didn't have a mouth on him, too. Another time he sat at the foot of the bed, blanket removed, so Neal could suck his cock while Elizabeth fucked Neal with a strap-on as blue as her eyes. Peter and Elizabeth worked almost as one, Elizabeth thrusting into Neal as Peter pulled Neal's mouth on and off his cock. Neal's hands grasped Peter's waist, hanging on as they got him at both ends. Neal was in heaven, of course, with all that concentrated attention, and Diana was just happy to watch. She leaned up against the pillows at the head of the bed and spread her legs, boldly getting herself off as she watched. Peter was facing her, not hiding his appreciation, and that turned her on even more.

"Beautiful," Peter said, smiling a little. "There's a rabbit in the bedside table if you want it."

Diana shook her head. "My fingers are enough," she replied, thrusting her fingers inside to rub against her g-spot while her thumb pressed just right against her clit.

Elizabeth glanced at her, over her shoulder. "Nice view," she said.

"I have one, too," Diana replied.

After, when Neal lay limply in Peter's lap and Elizabeth had sat back on her haunches to take off the harness, she said, "You should bring yours, Diana. I'd love you to fuck me with it, if you want to. I assume you have one."

"I do," Diana said, "but I think I'll get a new one, for you." She didn't have to say out loud that she didn't want to fuck Elizabeth with the same dildo she used on Christie, but Elizabeth smiled in a way that showed she understood. As she always did; they didn't talk about Christie but only because Diana didn't want to. What could she say? "I hope she comes back to me, and when she does I'll stop fucking you?" Diana couldn't honestly think that far ahead, anyway.

Neal stirred. "Can I come with you? Please?"

Diana cocked her head. "You want to come to Toys in Babeland with me and pick out a dildo?"

"It'll be fun," he said, with that pleading look that even Diana found it difficult to say no to, especially when the proposed activity was entirely legal.

So they went to the store, the two of them, with Neal evaluating the options like they were works of art, and Diana ended up with a royal purple dildo that Neal said looked good against her skin.

"Also regal," he said. "You're very regal."

They went out to coffee after, the first time since the whole thing with Peter and Elizabeth had started, and Diana asked, "So what makes you such an expert on sex toys? Other than that Elizabeth is pegging you, I mean."

He shrugged. "She wasn't the first," he said. "Besides, it's a physical object that has an aesthetic. Why shouldn't I have opinions of how it should look? And it's not like you didn't have opinions of your own."

"I'm the one who has to use it," Diana replied.

"And I'm thinking you have a lot of experience there, too," he said.

She inclined her head but said nothing.

"Hey can I," he said, and leaned forward, "can I ask you an intimate question?"

"Given that you've seen me having an orgasm with another woman's face between my legs," she said, "it's hard to say no."

"Well, it's fine if you don't want to answer, and I hate to use the word virginity because that's inaccurate but have you ever, you know, P-in-V?" he asked.

Diana had to laugh, both at the delicate way Neal put the question—he was trying—and the earnest, almost Peter-like expression on his face. "Yes, Neal," she said. "And then I figured out that just because I had a huge crush on some man, didn't mean I wanted to have sex with him."

Neal cocked his head. "Like Peter?"

"Well, he wasn't the first crush, obviously," she said, "but yes, like Peter."

Neal just nodded, knowingly, and drank his coffee.

So when a few days later, after she'd fucked Elizabeth for the first time with her new purple strap on, Neal asked to suck it, she shouldn't have been surprised. And at this point she wasn't even surprised when Peter started telling him how to do it.

"Lick it clean first," he said. "Get all of Elizabeth off that you can. She tastes so sweet, doesn't she?"

Neal hummed in agreement.

"Then wrap your hand around the base, just like you do with me," Peter said. "That way you can push it back into her, and if you get the right angle—spread your legs a little for me, Diana?"

Diana did so without even thinking about it.

"Now move it around a bit."

Neal did so, sucking the head of the dildo the entire time, looking up at her from under his long dark lashes, and when he finally got the usually not-quite-right tickling end of the strap-on dead center on her clit, she gasped.

"There you go," Peter said. "Keep it there. Diana will tell you how hard to push."

"Harder than that," she said, starting to get into this.

He pulled off. "Can I put my hand around you?" he asked.

She smiled and nodded, and was struck again by how the boys were always so respectful of her space, so good about asking if, when, and how they could touch her. Not that Elizabeth didn't, but it was different with her.

Neal spread his hand against the small of her back, fanning it out against her ass, and began sucking again. Now that he had some leverage he could push harder against her clit, and when she pushed forward he moaned and closed his eyes.

"He does love having his mouth fucked," Peter said. "Don't you, Neal?"

And sure, she could do that. She put her hands on his shoulders and thrust, and he pushed back just right with his hand but let her slide in and out of his mouth and it was so hot, watching him take it, listening to Peter and Elizabeth telling him to take it, telling Diana and Neal how sexy they were. She glanced up and saw that Elizabeth had crawled behind Peter, straddling him and reaching around to jack him off and the look on their faces was so intense, their words so hot, and Neal so very fuckable, that force of her orgasm took her by surprise.

She sat back on her haunches, panting. Elizabeth moved away from Peter and toward Neal and started to stroke his cock. Peter turned to Diana.

"You were so good with Elizabeth," he said. "And Neal, too."

She could tell that he wanted to touch her but was holding back. But now, with both of them spent, she felt okay about crawling toward him.

"Can I sit in your lap?" she asked.

Peter smiled, surprised. "Of course," he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She lay her head on his chest and could feel his soft cock under her as she watched Elizabeth getting Neal off. Not that it took very long.

Peter pressed a kiss into her hair. "So beautiful," he said.


And so the weeks went, faster than Diana might have anticipated thanks to Peter, Elizabeth, and Neal. But she still counted the days, still crossed them off on her calendar, still had to keep herself from breaking her promise and contacting Christie every day. They had cases, they had stake outs, and she found that she was even more loyal to Peter, particularly seeing how he balanced his sexual and work relationships with Neal. Their situation certainly leant more gravity to their search for Peter when he was kidnapped—as well as more hilarity to watching Neal impersonate Peter around Elizabeth, knowing how much they were holding back.

Then, ten days before Christie was scheduled to leave Boston, Diana got an email from her, the title of which read, "I want to come home to you." Diana read the rest of the email but the words all blurred together, and it didn't really matter, because Christie was coming home.

"Someone looks happy."

She looked up and saw Neal standing in front of her desk, and was shocked back to the present. She flashed her blackberry. "Got an email from Christie," she said.

Jones, listening in from his desk, raised his eyebrows. "Guess it was good news?" he asked.

She nodded. "She's coming back, she thought about it, and she's in, if I'm still in."

"And you're definitely still in, aren't you?" Jones asked.

"I am."

"You don't sound completely sure about that," Neal said.

"I—it's just sort of overwhelming," she replied, because she was happy, this was what she'd wanted. "All the forever stuff, I mean."

"Yeah, that's Diana," Jones said. "So busy preparing for the worst that she forgets to hope for the best."

Diana smiled back because that was it. Of course that was it.

"Well, you should tell Peter," Neal said. "He gets all warm and fuzzy when people fall in love and settle down."

There was a slight edge to Neal's voice, and Diana raised an eyebrow. "Sara?" she asked.

Neal nodded. "Peter's definitely Team Sara," he said. "Though I'm starting to wonder if he's right."

"Don't you hate that?" she asked, grinning. "Because he always is."

"It's the worst!" Neal said, but he was smiling, too.


So she went to Brooklyn for one last weekend, and it turned out to be near the end for Neal, too, because he'd decided to make a go with Sara. Yet, Peter and Elizabeth didn't seem sad at all.

"It's just sex," Elizabeth said. "We are capable of having good sex on our own. And we'll all still be friends. I don't see us as losing much of anything at all."

"I'd make a joke about finding you another boy toy," Neal said, "but you'd take it seriously and lecture me about it."

"I would," Peter said firmly, as he poured a glass of wine for Diana. "You're not a boy toy, Neal, not to us, and you never have been."

"I didn't even tell the joke and I got the lecture anyway," Neal said, but he didn't seem to mind.

"So," Elizabeth said. "Any requests?"

Diana turned to Peter. "I want you to tell me how to fuck your wife. Step by step, every detail."

"Jesus," Neal said.

Peter raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. "You'll follow my instructions?"

"Don't I always?" she said, smiling.

"El?" he asked.

"I can't wait," she replied. "No one knows how to fuck me better than you do."

"Well," Peter said, "neither can I."

"But what am I doing?" Neal asked.

"Watching," Diana said. "You can leave your hat on."

Upstairs, Peter said, "Let her take your clothes off at whatever pace she likes, but don't let her touch her own—you do that."

Diana nodded, because she had An Idea. "Actually, don't undress me yet," she told Elizabeth. Diana pulled Elizabeth's dress off over her head and saw that she wasn't wearing any panties as usual and god, this woman.

"You should be kissing her," Peter said, and Diana was happy to obey, sliding her tongue into Elizabeth's mouth as she unfastened the black, lacy demi-bra, leaving Elizabeth clad only in heels.

"Okay," Diana said. "You can undress me now."

Elizabeth smiled because she was a bit of an exhibitionist, liked being the only one naked. She pulled off Diana's top; Diana wasn't wearing a bra, not today. Then she unfastened Diana's jeans, bending her knees as she pulled jeans and panties down and revealed the strap-on Diana had put on during her pre-sex bathroom stop.

"Well!" Elizabeth said, grinning up at Diana.

"Leave that alone," Peter said, and Elizabeth made a face at him but stood up, dildo untouched. Diana stepped out of her trousers.

"Bed," Peter said, and they complied, kissing all the while, Diana kneeling between Elizabeth's spread legs. "You want to kiss your way down her body but keep your hands on her legs."

Good plan—though all of Peter's plans were so, so great. Elizabeth helped, bending her legs to make it easier for Diana to caress them. Her mouth, meanwhile, made its way down Elizabeth's neck to her collar bone and shoulders and then her breasts.

"Spend some time on those," he said. "They're worth it."

It was odd using only her mouth and not her fingers on Diana's breasts, but she didn't want to take her hands off Elizabeth's round thighs for anything. It just meant she paid more attention to how the skin felt against her tongue: the roughness of the nipple, then the smooth firm flesh surrounding it. She sucked in gentle mouthfuls, making her way around one and then the other, being sure to push her nose into the crease under Elizabeth's breasts and take in the particularly female musk that collected there.

Elizabeth's hands were in her hair, not directing her so much as going along for the ride as Diana kissed her soft stomach. Hips next, and Diana pulled her hands up, sliding under Elizabeth's buttocks, ready to push her legs further apart.

"She's better to fuck if you make her come first," he said. "You've worked her up so you can go right in—she likes tongue flicks on her clit and a finger or two on her g-spot, rubbing nice and gentle."

Those instructions were easy to follow. Peter was right that Elizabeth was already warmed up, though Diana didn't think she'd ever touched Elizabeth when her pussy wasn't wet, her skin not flushed. Diana spread Elizabeth's pussy open with one hand and dove in with fast tongue and slow fingers, just like Peter said. It wasn't long before one of Elizabeth's hands was in her hair, pushing her down as Elizabeth's hips came up.

"Hey now," Peter said, and Elizabeth's hips settled. "You don't want to smother the girl."

"But it's so good," Elizabeth whimpered. Her hand went from pushing down to pulling Diana's hair just a little, something Diana had told her she liked. "So close."

Diana could feel that in the way Elizabeth quivered. Then Elizabeth moaned, her muscles clenching around Diana's fingers.

"Keep going until she tells you to stop," Peter said. "She's good for two or three. Better for everyone."

Diana knew something about that, about giving head until her mouth was pulled away. She knew how to vary her touch, to make her tongue pointed and then soft, go fast then slow then both, to use the smell and increasing wetness to spur herself on. It was the easiest thing to bury herself in Elizabeth's soft curves and ride out the waves of her orgasms.

When Elizabeth finally pushed Diana's head back, she was panting and limp. "Fuck me," she said.

Diana knelt back, her strap-on standing up between her legs, and looked at Peter.

He'd taken off his clothes while Diana had been busy—or, more likely, Neal had taken them off for him. He was sitting back in the easy chair in the corner, hard as hell. An equally naked Neal cuddled up against him, watching.

"Now that you've put in the work," Peter said, smiling, "you can reap the reward and fuck her in whatever way will get her off. The more selfish you are, the more she'll like it. Isn't that right, honey?"

Elizabeth was undulating on the bed, her legs spread wide. "Fuck me hard," she said, eyes heavy-lidded, a finger on either side of her pussy.

Diana wasn't strong enough to turn her down and there was no reason to. She slid into Elizabeth with one steady, even thrust and adjusted the harness so it would rub against her clit as she fucked her. Elizabeth was wet, open and very, very willing, and Diana grabbed those shapely thighs, pushing them back and open.

"Harder than that, Diana," Peter said. "Make her breasts shake. Put your back into it."

Diana adjusted the angle again, pushing them both up the bed slightly so she could reach the headboard. The push and pull made it easier to really give it to her, using the muscles in her thighs and arms.

"That's it," Peter said, and as always his approval gave Diana a jolt of energy. She let go of the headboard, laying on top of Elizabeth, and shamelessly ground against the harness, pushing through her orgasms.

With some effort she lifted herself off of Elizabeth and sat back on her haunches, then leaned back on her elbows, exhausted. "Did I do good, boss?" she asked.

"You bet," Peter said, smiling.

Elizabeth sat up and crawled toward Diana. "I want," she said, and then sucked the strap-on into her mouth.

"Jesus," Neal said, watching wide-eyed as Elizabeth bobbed her head, licking and sucking every bit of her own juices from the dildo. Once she'd cleaned the base she wrapped her hand around it, using it to push the harness into Diana.

"Fuck, you're going to make me come again," Diana said.

Elizabeth let the dildo slide out of her mouth and grinned, wickedly. "Good," she said, and went back to her task, and got one last orgasm out of Diana.

"Okay, I'm done, really," Diana said.

Elizabeth laughed, low in her throat, and kissed Diana.

"That's what she does," Peter said. "That's her goal."

Diana rolled off the bed, taking off the strap-on and setting it aside to be cleaned. Her legs were like jelly, and she slumped down onto the trunk at the foot of the bed.

"All right, Neal," Peter said, pushing him up on his feet. "You've been patient. Your turn."

He grinned and stood up immediately. "Elizabeth?" he asked, though he seemed to already know what she'd want.

Elizabeth got on all fours and shook her behind. "Come get it," she said, and Neal wasted no time, reaching into the nightstand for the lube and getting onto the bed behind her.

"Come here," Peter said to Diana, and she obeyed, sitting on the arm of the chair much as Neal had, and leaning against Peter. His cock was still so hard and yet he didn't seem inclined to do anything about it. Diana stared at it thoughtfully, and then made a decision.

"I can take care of that for you," she said.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "I was, uh, I was saving it for Neal—"

"Oh, like we're not going another round," Neal said, smirking.

"I suppose that's true," Peter said. "You're sure?" he asked her.

"Very sure," she replied, because she wanted to do this, do this for him, get him off directly instead of indirectly.

She wrapped one hand around his cock and even though she hadn't had a cock in her hand in decades now it was like riding a bike, though it helped that Peter was more than ready for it, and that Neal and Elizabeth were putting on quite a show. Neal's brow was furrowed in concentration as he fucked her, hard like she liked it, like she was asking for, and her tits were swinging with the force of his thrusts.

When Peter came it was sudden and all over Diana's hand, but there were always towels so that was fine. And his mouth was gaping open so sweetly that she had to kiss him.

"Huh," he said, and smiled.

Neal and Elizabeth had finished, and of course Elizabeth had come again. They sat on the bed looking at Diana and Peter.

"So do I get to tell Neal how to fuck you?" Elizabeth asked.

Peter paused for a second, and Neal and Diana smiled at each other, knowing how loathe he always was to give up the reins even to Elizabeth, but knowing that he would.

"Of course, honey," he said at last. "Seems only fair."


two years later

"So," Diana said.

"So," Neal said.

"I'm sorry. I overreacted. You've never—you've never betrayed my personal trust."

Neal smiled, because that was a good way to put it. "It's okay," he said. "I get it. And I really am sorry about Christie."

Diana shrugged. "It was easy," she said. "Maybe I don't want easy anymore."

Neal nodded.

"I guess Sara—"

"I lied to her," he said. "Never mind being a fugitive."

Diana nodded.

"So," Neal said. "Brooklyn?"

"Been thinking about it," Diana said. "You?"

"Been thinking about it," he replied. "Probably should bring them a bottle of wine."

"A nice dessert."

"Maybe some condoms and lube."

Diana snickered. "We could go to Babeland and make up a gift basket of sex toys."

"You still have that purple strap-on we bought?" Neal asked, smiling.

"Yep," she replied. "Maybe that should have been a sign."

"Maybe so," he said.

She sighed. "Are you sure they'll take us back?" she asked.

"Please," he said. "They're Peter and Elizabeth. They've already taken us back."