WARNING: Crackfic! Smut ahead!
After Reese finished taking care of their latest Number and reported that he was heading back to the library, Finch muted his phone connection and resumed what he had been doing before Reese’s situation had heated up: exercising Bear. Although actually, it was just as much for Finch’s own health benefit. On rainy days he had opted to play fetch with Bear inside the library rather than take the dog outdoors where he would inevitably get muddy and bring the scent of wet dog back to the office. Finch was fastidious about washing Bear (whether Reese helped or not), but he still worried that someday he would open up an expensive first edition only to find that it smelled like wet Bear. So he had decided that the floors of the library could handle the wear and tear of Bear’s feet on cold, rainy days.
Bear never tired of racing after the tennis balls and other toys Finch threw for him, always eagerly bringing them back for more tosses. Finch had changed into an old t-shirt and sweatpants so that he could run into different corridors of bookshelves to hide from Bear while he was distracted by the ball. The dog could smell him, so there was no way he could hide at all, but it gave Finch a much-needed cardio workout. The old clothes also allowed him to get down and dirty with the dog, hugging and petting Bear in ways he would never feel comfortable doing in his Armani suits.
Today it turned out to be a good thing that he was in his old clothes, since he fumbled the tennis ball that Bear had just brought back to him and it rolled under his desk. Thinking it had been a kind of throw, Bear went after it immediately, pawing at the ball but only succeeding in wedging it more tightly under the desk. The dog whined and looked up with pleading eyes at Finch.
“Oh, what happened, Bear? Did it get stuck? Oh, dear… It’s way back in there…”
Casting about for some tool, Finch noticed his long letter opener – a blunt blade of sterling silver – on the desk. He picked it up and rolled the chair out of the way before lowering himself gingerly to the floor.
“Bear, move over – let me have a look… Ah! There it is, right there…”
Finch grunted as he reached in with the letter opener, trying to use it to pry the ball out from its trap, but he could not get enough leverage to push or pull the stubborn ball out.
“Well… C’mon… Oh, good grief,” Finch muttered as he continued his efforts, panting from the exertion.
“Lose something, Harold?” came Reese’s maddeningly cool voice from somewhere above.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Finch responded, realizing that in his current position – on his hands and knees under the desk – his partner must have a glorious view of his posterior. “Bear chased his ball under here and now it’s stuck.” He pronounced the last word with more negative emotion than the situation warranted, perhaps, but he was somewhat infuriated with the fact that Bear was now fawning over Reese, his lost ball completely forgotten.
“Want me to give it a try?” Reese asked, not even bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.
“Certainly, if you think you can do better,” Finch said gruffly as he backed out of the narrow space. It did not help his mood when Reese placed a hand on his sore hip, even though it did help to steady his movement.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Reese drawled, shooting Finch a sidelong smirk before taking his place under the desk. Now Finch was treated to a full view of Reese’s ass – a sight difficult if not impossible to ignore. And Finch was fairly sure that Reese had intended to give him exactly this sort of profligate display. He wondered for a brief moment if Reese’s ass hadn’t grown bigger from what he remembered of it from when he had fitted the former agent for his first bespoke suit.
“Hmm… it’s really wedged in, isn’t it?” Reese remarked after several tugs that made his entire body move – and his raised ass jerk from side to side. “How’d you do that, Bear? Man oh man…”
Still on his knees, Finch watched with increasing interest and self-loathing as Reese continued his attempts to remove the ball, seeming to wiggle his ass deliberately under his partner’s nose. When he did an actual grind, moving his ass in a complete circular motion without any sign of the desk shaking from a wedged-ball-removal attempt, Finch knew for certain that Reese was only taunting him.
“That’s quite enough, Mr. Reese,” Finch declared stiffly – although his voice was not the only thing that had gone stiff on him. “If you’re not going to make a bona fide effort, you might as well come out from under there.”
“Whaaat?” Reese asked, infusing the word with all the innocence and tone of an aggrieved-wrongfully-accused-victim he could muster. He pulled back out from under the desk just enough to turn around and look at Finch. “What are you imply—”
Reese’s response was interrupted by the loud sound of a seam tearing open. For a moment their eyes were locked together in mutual, silent horror. Then Reese turned back toward the desk and reached behind him with one hand. Finch saw before Reese confirmed by feel that the seam down the middle of Reese’s suit trousers had ripped, exposing a crescent view of his navy underwear.
“I was implying, Mr. Reese,” Finch finally broke the silence, as dryly as he could, “that you were ‘shaking your booty,’ as they say in the vernacular, solely for my benefit. It would appear that your ‘booty,’ of which you seem inordinately proud, has just become your downfall.”
“Is it bad, Finch?” Reese asked, unfeigned trepidation in his tone.
“I believe they might be salvageable, but if my assessment is correct and your ‘booty’ has grown rather larger in size, you will need another pair of trousers with more… leeway.”
Reese’s faint voice echoed from under the desk. “Yoga. Pilates. And the occasional Zumba class. I thought I was getting more appreciative looks from the ladies… especially around my ass. Guess I was right – all that exercise has made my butt bigger.”
Finch, with his high-speed processing brain, placed himself in Reese’s shoes for a brief moment: the humiliation of his current situation and the pain of his no doubt wounded pride served to trigger an emotional response of compassion. He ran a critical eye over the two globes in question.
“Well, at least your Gluteus Maximus muscles seem to be in better tone,” he stated blandly.
Reese began inching out, backwards, from under the desk. “I’ve been doing a lot of stretches with them,” he admitted. Bear panted with excitement as he saw the tennis ball in Reese’s hand, successfully dislodged on his third try. “I wanted to make sure,” Reese continued with a deliberate turn of his hips toward Finch, “that I was in top condition if I ever got the chance – that is, if the opportunity ever presented itself – to give you a good view of my ass. I wanted to be as attractive as possible,” he explained with another lewdly suggestive grind, “in case you ever showed any interest in… well… my ‘booty.’”
Finch nearly dropped the letter opener still in his hand; he certainly dropped his jaw in shock.
“You mean you… you did all that… just to make your… your butt look good… for my benefit?”
“Well, yeah.” Reese turned a sheepish smile to Finch over his shoulder and wiggled his ass again. “So, what do you say? Does it pass inspection?”
Finch felt his mouth go dry and his rebellious cock grow hard as he looked down at Reese’s ass. Reese flipped up the bottom of his suit jacket, presenting an unobstructed view of his posterior. The rounded lobes of his anatomy were indeed shapely, filling out the fabric of his trousers in such a way that there was very little left for Finch’s imagination to have to fill in.
“Ah… uh… um…” He had to swallow once before he could verbalize his answer. “It’s quite… ah… satisfactory, Mr. Reese. I’m sure it would, um, pass any sort of inspection.”
“I wasn’t asking for an objective critique, Harold – I want to know if you find it… attractive.”
“Uh… Well, uh… I’m sure… it’s a very nice specimen,” Finch fumbled. He was understandably distracted by the wiggling movements Reese was making with his rear end, waving it in the air right in front of Finch’s face.
“Here, Bear,” Reese called and lobbed the ball over his back and Finch’s shoulder. Bear scrabbled after it in exuberant joy. Finch licked his lips, half wishing he could scamper like the dog and run away from the awkward yet irresistibly enticing moral dilemma set before him. Reese pushed the chair back into place under the desk, making some room on the rug, then lowered his chest to the floor and gradually allowed his ass to follow suit. When he next spoke, his tone was gentle. “Harold, if you want it… I’m ready. I’ve always been ready… for you.”
Finch looked at Reese’s ass, presented to him with the trouser seam ripped open. He looked at the letter opener in his hand. He looked at the bulge in the front of his own sweatpants, which were threatening to rip open as well if he did not do something to relieve the pressure. His decision was made. The letter opener worked very effectively for ripping Reese’s trousers even further, and it easily tore through the fabric of his boxer-briefs as well. In a matter of minutes, Reese’s ass was laid bare under the hungry, almost predatory gaze of Finch’s lust-crazed eyes.
“Very nice, John… very nice indeed,” he murmured as he grabbed it with both hands and kneaded it to test the texture. “Oh… yes. Very nice and firm.”
Reese gasped and balled his hands into fists as Finch’s thumbs found their way into his crack. After pushing apart both halves of his ass, the thumbs rubbed up and down along the crevice, paying special attention to the puckered rosebud now exposed to view. Reese cried out when something hot and damp touched the skin there, and he realized with astonishment that Finch – mild-mannered, fastidious Finch – was not shy about sticking his tongue where the sun ordinarily did not shine. Despite his years of training to keep his heart-rate steady even under duress, Reese could not stop it from beating hard and fast, seemingly in his throat, as Finch gave his crack a thorough licking.
Bear was startled by the unexpected caterwaul that escaped Reese’s lips when Finch’s dexterous tongue penetrated his anus. As that ring of muscle squeezed and contracted in response to the sudden invasion, Reese panted with not only surprise but also rapidly growing need. Finch was finally touching him, fondling him, playing with him – and in the most debasing manner possible. It would have been enough to make his cock burst out the other side of his trousers if that garment hadn’t already been shredded beyond all recognition in the back.
“I suppose we’ll need lube,” Finch muttered and leaned over to the desk, opened a drawer, and retrieved a tube of hand lotion. In his haste he did not think to warm it before slathering it onto Reese’s crack, causing the younger man to flinch from the cold, but as Finch’s nimble fingers began to work the lotion around and into his opening, Reese’s body relaxed from the warmth of his hands and the anticipation of pleasure. Finch did not disappoint: he stroked Reese’s prostate gland as soon as his finger had penetrated deep enough, eliciting keens of approval from the normally quiet man.
“Oh, yeah! Yeah… Mmm… Please, Harold… I need more!” he urged, his voice a hundred times sexier from desperate desire.
“What do you want, John? Do you want another finger?” Finch teased, for a change on the offensive in their verbal repartee.
“Yes! Oh, yes, please, Harold…” Reese begged. He made a strangled sort of sound when the second digit entered his body, but after several deep breaths he began to push back against them, making them hit his prostate again and again.
“You like that? Do you like getting fucked by my fingers?” Finch taunted although the answer was obvious. He slapped the exposed skin of Reese’s ass with his free hand for good measure.
“Yes… so good… Oh, Harold!”
The last word was drawn out due to Finch twisting his two fingers around, stretching the sphincter, while simultaneously sliding them in and out.
“Oh, oh, oh… Harold, please… I want more… I need more!”
“What? You want another finger, is that it?”
“N-No, I want… your cock, Harold! I want it inside me,” Reese managed to moan. “Please, Harold!”
“Well, I suppose, since you asked so nicely,” Finch drawled, but he wasted no time in shoving his sweatpants down, along with his underwear, to reveal his engorged and weeping cock. After another generous application of lotion to Reese’s twitching hole, he slathered his erect member as well and positioned it at his partner’s opening.
“W-Wait, let me… get up,” Reese said, lifting his ass slightly off the floor by repositioning his knees. It gave Finch a better angle of attack, one that was less strenuous on his injured hip.
“Ah! Very nice, John, and thoughtful – thank you,” Finch told him while rubbing his crack with the slippery head of his cock. “Are you ready?”
“Oh, yeah!” Reese answered with enthusiasm.
Finch dragged out the moment of penetration as long as possible, making Reese writhe with deferred gratification. By the time he finally rubbed the prostate gland with the tip of his cock, Reese was whining shamelessly and loudly. Those noises soon turned into cries of ecstasy, however, when Finch began to thrust into him, taking care to hit the magic spot every time. He had grabbed Reese’s hips with both hands, pulling him up and back toward him with every thrust, plunging deeper every time. The hot, clenching body around his most sensitive organ was pure heaven, and from the happy yelps emanating from the former agent, Reese was enjoying it just as much as Finch.
Once the entire length of his organ was seated securely inside of Reese, Finch leaned over his back, supporting his own weight with his hands firmly planted on either side of his partner. Finch had never been more glad that he had pushed through all those grueling hours of physical therapy to regain his range of motion – he was especially grateful that his therapist had insisted on making him do push-ups as a way to build his core strength. Now his muscular arms enabled him to plow into Reese’s body with confidence and abandon, his hairy balls slapping against the other man’s muscular ass.
Suddenly, those muscles contracted as though in a spasm and Reese’s voice creaked like a rusty door hinge as his body tensed and grew rigid. Finch could barely hang on to his sanity while Reese came, every toned muscle thrumming with the rush of ejaculation, milking Finch’s manhood as well. But Finch held off his own climax with a supreme effort of will, waiting until the waves of pleasure assaulting Reese had receded. Then and only then, he renewed his thrusts into the depths of his lover’s body – and when Reese went limp and could not hold up his ass anymore, Finch simply followed it down to where it came to rest on the floor and pounded mercilessly into it. Reese could only whimper while Finch claimed his body, plundered it, owned it. When Finch finally allowed himself to come, it was because he could hold out no longer; it was a much-anticipated relief, satisfying to both of the participants.
Reese tried to stabilize his breathing, concentrating on the sensation of Finch’s hot come sliding around inside his body, feeling Finch’s cock moving in time to their labored breathing. Reese smiled – it had been every bit as good as he had hoped for. All those hours spent in the gym, getting ogled by housewives past their prime, had been worth it. If his ass was now bigger and required that Finch re-measure him for better-fitting trousers, even better.
Finch glanced up to find Bear waiting patiently, the tennis ball between his paws, for his two dads to finish their mating.
“Here, Bear – give me that ball,” Finch told him, holding out a hand. “Let’s see where else you can manage to lose this thing…”