Dedicated to Timeless Dreamer and her wonderful POI vids!
WARNING: Smut ahead!
Reese set the cup of tea down on the unoccupied desk and looked around for Finch while sipping his coffee. There were signs the other man had already been working for a while in the library, but no signs indicating his current whereabouts. Rather than go snooping and be chastised for it like a schoolboy, Reese called out.
“I’m over here, Mr. Reese,” came his voice from a normally unused room. Reese sauntered over to find his employer sorting and shelving periodicals.
“Ms. Shaw wanted to borrow him for her morning run. I figured he could use the exercise. Someone keeps feeding him human food…”
Reese grinned, knowing he was not the only one guilty of that offense. “I could take him running if you’d like, Harold. It’s no imposition, you know — as you so often remind me, he’s my dog.”
Finch waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. “There’s no need, Mr. Reese. I rather prefer that Ms. Shaw handle it so that she… expends some of her restless energy.”
The way he’d chosen his words with care spoke volumes.
“What if I have some restless energy to expend?” Reese teased, shifting closer behind Finch in the narrow aisle between bookshelves so he could better smell the well-groomed man’s cologne.
“I trust you to find more constructive ways to expend it than Ms. Shaw has tended to.” Finch pursed his lips and placed another handful of medical journals into vertical holders. “Unfortunately, she has very little familiarity with the word subtlety and its practical applications.”
“Hmm,” Reese murmured, somewhat lost in contemplations of a different color. “I suppose I could think of better ways to expend my energy than blowing up a stolen cement mixer…”
“The cleanup alone cost the city a small fortune,” Finch continued without looking around, so he missed Reese’s hungry expression. “And while it was certainly an effective way to stop the crime in progress, perhaps we could impress upon Ms. Shaw the benefits of making it cost-effective as well.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Reese agreed, thinking he would like to impress something else upon the other man. The clean, crisp scent of Finch’s expensive cologne tended to do that to him; even the dusty environment of the library seemed only to add a note of spice to his already delectable fragrance.
Finch finally turned to grab another handful of periodicals from the cart he had rolled over, and in doing so he noticed that the taller man was staring at his shirt collar.
“Is something the matter?” he asked, instinctively reaching up to smooth out any imperfections in his dress.
“What? No! Nothing’s the matter,” Reese replied, startled for a change. The sight of Finch wearing just his shirt and vest without the matching jacket always hypnotized him, as though the lack of that one outer garment left Finch more exposed than most people when they were wearing nothing. “I was just… contemplating other ways I could expend my energy.”
The charming, wry smile Reese offered did not quite hide the wolfish glitter in his eyes.
“Really, John?” Finch said with an ever so slightly put-upon sigh. “Is it time to call Miss Morgan and ask for another favor?”
“What favor? She’s the one always cleaning me out,” Reese scoffed.
“I beg your pardon?”
Upon seeing Finch’s confused frown, Reese elaborated.
“Why would you consider it a favor to invite her over for poker? She always leaves with more money than she came with.”
Finch stared at him for a full five seconds before repeating, “Poker?”
It was Reese’s turn to frown now. “Yes, poker. You didn’t think we were playing Go Fish, did you?”
Finch leaned heavily back against the bookshelf. “You mean you… Oh, God! You mean you haven’t…?”
“What?” Reese scowled at the verbal cloak-and-dagger game. “I thought you knew where every penny you give me goes! I didn’t buy that Taser for her — she won it from me. I just thought it would be nicer to get her one that actually fits in her purse. Mine would be too obvious to strap on under a dress.”
Finch’s mouth was hanging open wider by the moment. “Do you mean to tell me,” he began, then swallowed and started over, “Are you telling me that you two have never… you know… made love?”
The horrified look on Reese’s face made his answer very clear. “What do you take me for, Harold? You never, ever sleep with an asset! Not one you want to keep using, anyway. If you know you’re pulling out of the op soon and it’s the only way to get information, that’s one thing, but—”
“For heaven’s sake, John!” Finch interrupted. “She’s not just an ‘asset’ — she’s a lovely and intelligent woman who also happens to be available and rather fond of you! I even gave you the key to the penthouse that evening, and you’re telling me you spent the whole night playing poker?”
Reese looked about as flabbergasted as Finch had ever seen him. Then he visibly grew angry.
“You mean you were trying to set us up? Like I was some… hormonal teenager who needed help getting it on with a girl?”
“I was merely trying to be helpful, Mr. Reese,” Finch backpedaled in as reasonable and conciliatory a tone as he could muster. “I had thought… that is, I had assumed, that you two were already involved in a… more or less romantic manner. It only seemed tactful to give you access to a room, then make myself scarce.”
Reese’s lips tensed in what looked suspiciously like a pout. “I never asked you to, Harold.”
“I realize that. And I don’t think for a moment that you need any help in that department, John. I was only trying to be… unobtrusively helpful.”
Reese’s pout deepened into a scowl. “Well, that was unnecessary and ineffective. You might have saved me the trouble and just asked me what I wanted — all that money could have done a lot more good at the homeless shelter, feeding hungry people. And quite frankly, I’m offended that you expected me to settle for chopped liver after getting a taste for filet mignon.”
“I beg your pardon?” Finch asked, completely confused again.
“Sure, Zoe’s good for a few laughs over drinks and all, but… my tastes have begun to run… a little more on the expensive side, Harold,” Reese explained patiently, his voice soft and sinuous as he leaned closer to the other man. “I’m looking for something a little more… exclusive. Rare, pristine, and… almost… unattainable.”
He had placed both hands on the shelf behind Finch, effectively trapping him in place, while bending down towards his upturned face. When Reese closed his eyes and slowly inhaled, it became obvious that he was scenting Finch’s fragrance. The realization made the older man blush both above and below the collar.
“M-Mr. Reese, you don’t exp-p-pect me to believe—” he stuttered, but Reese did not allow him to finish; instead he claimed those expressive lips with his own, moaning a little in happiness at fulfilling one of his long-deferred hopes. Finch was too shocked to move, even if there had been any space for him to do so.
“Mmm… Harold,” Reese breathed, hot and sultry, when he drew back for air at last. The sound of his own name spoken with such desire traveled down Finch’s spine as an uncontrollable shiver, pooling in his sensitive cock.
“J-John, I had… n-no idea,” he mumbled, mesmerized by the intensity of the taller man’s gaze.
“And here I thought you were the genius,” Reese complained, though without rancor. He leaned in again to let his lips travel in whispers across Finch’s face: his forehead, brows, nose, and cheeks. Finch clutched Reese’s shirt in both hands but did not attempt to push him away, a fact that pleased Reese inordinately. He slipped his arms behind Finch’s back where the bookshelf allowed enough space and refocused his attention on his employer’s slightly lopsided yet infinitely luscious lips. When they opened without any prodding, Reese dove into that mouth with his heart on his tongue.
Finch must have already had a cup of tea, he realized, since he tasted the sweetness of sugar and faint bitterness and grassy aroma of green tea lingering there. There was also the hint of something suspiciously like doughnuts. Reese could not help smiling as he wrangled with Finch’s hesitant but curious tongue, feeling a corresponding hardness growing in the other man’s trousers where his own was rubbing against it. His need was driving him to be shamelessly wanton — he was already leaking within the confines of his clothing, but he couldn’t stop himself from frotting along the bulging length trapped in Finch’s perfectly tailored trousers. He knew if he didn’t do something soon to alleviate the situation, they might both regret it.
“Harold,” he gasped, using all of his willpower to pull away. “Let me… please!”
Finch’s eyes were wide and unfocused, dazed with lust. “What? John, whatever you want…”
That was all Reese needed to hear. He knelt on the floor, scrabbled at the leather belt on Finch’s waist, hastily unfastened the front of his trousers, and pulled his cock out into the open where it waved proudly and fully erect. Reese licked the dampness smeared on its head with his eager tongue, causing Finch to moan and whimper with pleasure.
“Mmm… Harold,” Reese groaned before sucking the head entirely into his mouth. He worked his way down the hefty shaft until his nose was buried deep in the soft, curly hair at the base. One final gulp and he felt the head hit the back of his throat.
As Reese’s lips had progressed along his cock, Finch had gripped the bookshelf behind him for support since his knees were threatening to turn into jelly. He could not remember a time when his manhood had been so greedily devoured; he also could not remember the last time he had been so aroused, but not because the memory did not exist — he simply had no wish to recall anything. All he wanted was to live in this present moment, because it was wonderful and amazing and more exciting than anything else that had happened to him in a very long while. When he felt Reese swallowing and humming around his cock in appreciation, Finch began thrusting into that welcoming warmth without even realizing that he was doing so.
Reese was prepared for the instinctive pelvic thrusts, for they were precisely what he had wanted to initiate in his friend, colleague, and now lover. He steadied the other man’s hips with both hands and continued to vibrate his vocal chords in a low rumble, all the while running his tongue along the pulsing vein on the underside of that delicious cock. He felt Finch’s balls tighten with his lower lip; when his orgasm hit, he was ready for it. In fact his mouth had watered at the very thought of making Finch come like this, so it was with ease that he swallowed his own spit and encouraged the flow of Finch’s ejaculate down into his gullet. After several long convulsions, Finch sagged against the bookshelf, barely able to stay standing.
Sucking him clean, Reese removed his mouth from Finch’s cock with a smacking sound that echoed obscenely between the stacks. He then helped Finch down to the floor where, despite the bare wooden boards, the older man lay down with a grateful sigh. However, Reese’s own cock was still as erect as ever; he had secreted some fluid in the excitement of blowing his beloved Finch, but the stain on his underwear was nothing compared to the load he was still carrying. From his vantage point on his knees, Reese looked lovingly down at the man now panting on the floor and unfastened his own trousers to expose his long, straining cock.
“Don’t go anywhere, Harold,” he teased, knowing the order was unnecessary. “I’ll be right back.”
Finch nodded as he caught a glimpse of Reese’s rampant weapon, but he hardly cared what happened next. He closed his eyes and floated on the incredible waves of pleasure he had just ridden.
Reese hurried back to the office area where he knew Finch kept a large bottle of hand lotion in one of the drawers. He had to keep one hand on his cock, not to soothe it but to keep it from bursting; his tight grip around the base of his balls was torturous by most standards. However, it had the desired effect — by the time he had grabbed the lotion and returned, he was no longer in imminent danger of ejaculating.
“Here, Harold — I got just what we need!”
The triumphant declaration only vaguely registered in Finch’s mind, and even when Reese undressed the bottom half of his person, Finch did not comprehend what was about to happen. Only when Reese’s slick finger entered his anus and began probing around in gentle circles did he come back down to reality. He was not turned off by what Reese was doing, though; after the mind-blowing experience he had just had at Reese’s skillful hands (and mouth), he was willing to try anything else Reese wanted to dish out. The insistent stretching continued until two slender fingers were sliding within him with ease, and then Reese’s face came into view, concerned but tinged with desperation.
“Are you comfortable like this?” he asked. “Is this your better side?”
“Yes, I’m fine, John,” Finch assured him, then reached out to cup his cheek. “I’m perfectly all right.”
“Good.” Reese gave him a lopsided grin before lying down behind him on the floor. A moment later the hot, solid presence of his cock made itself known at Finch’s rear entrance; with a slight burn the head was pressed past the ring until it seemed to be swallowed by the welcoming orifice. The rest of the slender shaft — slicked thoroughly with lotion — followed easily.
“Oh… Harold!” Reese moaned, eyes squeezed shut as he savored the sensation of being inside Finch at last. He shifted and thrust in, aiming at the other man’s prostate and hitting it with admirable accuracy. Finch cried out as he saw stars exploding in his vision.
“Oh! Oh, oh… Oh!” he gasped while Reese continued to hit the spot.
“D’you like it?” Reese asked, a half-smile forming on his lips since he knew the answer.
“Oh my God, yes!” Finch replied. “Oh!”
With one arm curled protectively under Finch’s waist, Reese reached over with his other hand to fondle Finch’s cock, which had become an interested third party again. He used his long fingers to run up and down the silky skin in time with his thrusts, stimulating the sensitive area just under the head every time his own cock hit Finch’s gland. The lotion clinging to his fingers was enough lubrication until the second batch of pre-come started leaking freely, coating both hand and cock. It was with considerable restraint that Reese delayed his release, waiting for his lover to climax again, as he continued to stroke him in an ever-increasing tempo of love. When Finch shuddered a second time, Reese was ready with his own orgasm, finally shooting his weapon until every last round was spent, filling Finch with his sticky ammunition.
They lay panting on the hard floor, still connected and thoroughly exhausted, for what seemed a long time. Then Shaw’s voice came down to them from somewhere above.
“You know, the next time you guys wanna play ‘Naughty Little Librarian,’ you should let me know beforehand — we could make some serious dough selling the video on the internet.”
As Finch spluttered, unable to form a coherent reply in his outrage, Reese calmly pulled him closer to his chest and informed her, “I don’t share my men.”
Bear whined at being left out of the fun.