12. Union

Finch was gasping, his mind nearly comatose from the heady excitement of being stimulated by Reese’s dexterous hands, that he almost didn’t notice when Reese paused to grab something from the bedside table. It was one of the tubes of lotion which Reese’s alter ego had purchased earlier in the day, and now he squirted a generous dollop into his palm and warmed it before slathering it onto Finch’s hardened manhood. The slightly cool, slimy sensation pulled Finch’s awareness back into reality for a moment, and he gazed into Reese’s face – hovering so near while he concentrated on Finch’s nether regions – with a dreamlike feeling.

“Hah,” he laughed briefly, trying to dispel his nervousness. “I… I can’t believe… I’m doing this…”

Reese smiled, his eyes twinkling as they met Finch’s. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Oh, god! No. Don’t… Don’t tease me like that, John…”

He was rewarded by another sweet kiss and a long pull on his straining organ.

“All right, then. Are you comfortable on your side, like this?”

“Yes, this is… my better side.”

After another quick peck, Reese stood up to remove his pajamas entirely, then turned his bare back towards Finch, sliding backwards to get closer to him in the bed. Finch tentatively placed his hands on Reese’s skin, not sure what was expected of him. It was not until Reese reached behind himself to grab Finch’s manhood again, guiding it closer to his rear entrance, that he finally understood.

“Wha—What? Y—You mean…” Finch stuttered, surprised.

“What? Don’t you want to?” Reese teased, even as he rubbed the sensitive tip of Finch’s male member against his orifice. “You really should give it a try. You might even like it…”

“I… Ah… I didn’t mean…” Finch struggled, feeling the blood rush from his upper head to his lower, making coherent thought virtually impossible. “That is, I’m sure I will…”

Not needing any more encouragement than that, Reese impaled himself on Finch’s pulsing hardness. As its thickest point slipped past the narrow gate, a half-strangled cry slipped past Finch’s lips. Although knowing it was a cry of pleasure, Reese deliberately pulled Finch’s manhood back out, only to push it in again.

“Oh! Ah… Oh, god…” Finch rasped, clutching at Reese’s shoulders.

“Do you like it?” Reese drawled, repeating the motion to stimulate his own growing need.

“Oh… John… yes!” Finch assured him.

Reese tantalized him by rubbing the now-leaking organ between his rear cheeks, pinching it with his clenched muscles before pushing it back inside of his body. Slowly, he moved his bottom closer to his partner, making their union more secure.

“Oh… John!” Finch breathed, now actively pressing himself deeper into the welcoming warmth. He wanted that heat – needed that heat, to surround him, envelop him, all the way to the root of his existence. Somewhere in his hazy mind he wondered if he might be hurting Reese, but he could not spare the energy nor the concentration required to adequately answer that question. However, as he forged further within the other man, he did notice that there was more resistance.

“John… is it…?” he began, unsure how to even voice his concerns.

“It’s all right – keep going,” Reese urged, maintaining the pressure. “You can go a little farther. And don’t worry, you’re not going to hurt me. Just… do what feels right.”

Finch swallowed and pushed harder, though gently, and felt himself plunge deeper into the tight tunnel.

“Oh, John! Oh… Mmm…” he moaned. His progress was stopped when his balls came up against Reese’s rear.

“I knew it!” Reese declared, carefully rocking his body against Finch’s, enjoying the thickness of the older man’s cock. “We’re a perfect fit!”

Finch groaned as the movement awakened a great, instinctive need to thrust. He pressed himself as far as he could into Reese, letting up slowly and very reluctantly, only to shove it back in again.

“John… Oh, John…” he panted.

“Do it, Finch – just fuck me! Fuck my fucking brains out…”

It was as though a switch had been turned on inside of Finch. He began bucking, rutting against Reese’s body in powerful strokes that grew ever faster and more frantic. Reese pushed back to meet him, making their connection almost painfully hard, but even that sensation only served to arouse Finch more. His arms were now securely wrapped around Reese’s chest, holding him in place as his male member plundered the treasure trove of his interior cavern, sliding easily and effortlessly as their heat continued to build.

“Reese… John… oh… oh… ah… ahAHAHHAHHH!

“Finch… oh, god… Finch… ah… ahh… AHH… NGAHHH… AUUGGHHH!

With indescribable satisfaction, Reese felt Finch’s manhood tremble and release its lava-hot molten juices within him, smearing the sticky fluid all along the walls of his tunnel as he continued to thrust inside of his body. Reese had been fondling his own needy member as well, allowing Finch’s movements to be transferred directly into his own hips, and came with a powerful climax all over his hands and the sheets.

Like an engine winding down, Finch continued to shove his piston into Reese’s cylinder, gradually losing steam until he came to a halt. He simply could not move another muscle, he was so thoroughly spent. But it was a contented, replete euphoria that permeated his exhaustion. His arms were still around Reese’s torso, for which he was glad – he did not want to let go of the other man, ever.

Reese lay still, basking in the eagerness with which Finch had taken pleasure in his body. He covered Finch’s relaxed hands with his own, happy in the knowledge that they had shared something so intimate, so special. It would change their relationship forever, he realized, but he hoped that the bonds which they had already forged would withstand any strain placed upon them. He wanted to continue working with Finch, of course, but he needed to have this connection, this trust – this love, even – with Finch, if he was to be effective in his job for any length of time. Reese knew quite well where his limits were and was determined to never wander so close to the brink again. Even in the aftermath of their passionate love-making, Reese lay awake for a long while, contemplating his life through a woolly haze.

“I love you.”

Finch had almost drifted off to sleep when Reese’s quiet voice floated out in the darkness. He opened his eyes to stare at Reese’s neck, then at his bare shoulder that was dimly lit by the lamp on the bedside table. He was not really thinking, just existing, as he drew in a breath and echoed, “I love you, too.”

He felt Reese stiffen, as though startled, and found that his hands were immobilized by Reese’s; however, he could still press them tighter against Reese’s chest, so he did.

“I love you, John,” he repeated in his ear, the sound a mere whisper but with thunderous moment. In fact, it was the harbinger of rain in a country that had long suffered drought.

Reese struggled to regain his usual control – it went against every fiber of his being, not to mention training, to show weakness – but the tears had been dammed up for too long and now they over-spilled his defenses in a rushing torrent. Finch grew more awake as he sensed the convulsions racking the taller man’s body, and offered him his tacit support by holding him more tightly, his chest warming his back.

Reese finally ceased resisting and let the tears flow, soaking the pillow, and was comforted by the touch of Finch’s hands rubbing up and down his skin. When his emotions had run their course, he sniffed hard and made a hollow, self-deprecating laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, reaching for a tissue.

“Don’t be,” Finch told him softly, moving his freed hand to caress Reese’s shoulder. “I know… exactly what you’re feeling.”

A smile broke through on Reese’s face, contorting his features somewhat as it vied for dominance over the loneliness that had eaten away at him for so long.

“John… look at me,” Finch requested.

Reese mopped his face and blew his nose before complying, and turned to find a kindness in Finch’s face that he had never seen before. And yet that was not entirely accurate, either – with a start he realized that Finch had always hidden his kindness behind a mask of… detachment? professionalism? even an attempt at emotionlessness? – but now that mask had been removed. Finch lay before him on the bed, open, vulnerable, and (in a strange way) more human. And then he was reaching out to embrace him, to pull him closer, to welcome him into his heart.

“I do love you, John,” Finch assured him, feeling more confident of his own emotions. “In fact, I believe you knew that already… I’m just sorry that I didn’t recognize it, or rather… that I wasn’t ready to admit it, much sooner.”

Reese slipped his arms around Finch and buried his face against his neck. A laugh that was more than half a sob escaped from him as he felt Finch’s arms wrap around him, too, naturally and without reservation. They even pulled the blankets up to cover his exposed back, before falling into place – as if they had done so a thousand times before – around his waist.

“Goodnight, John,” Finch murmured, then pressed his lips against the other man’s forehead, pausing there to save that tactile sensation in the memory drives of his brain.

“Goodnight, Harold,” Reese replied, drew in a deep breath, and fell immediately into a peaceful, restful sleep.


There was some mutual embarrassment the next morning, when they were awakened by the alarm clock (which, thankfully, Finch had remembered to set) to discover that they had both experienced wet dreams.

“Too much stimulation,” Finch stated blandly by way of an excuse, and Reese laughed so hard that he had tears in his eyes. They ordered breakfast, showered separately for expedience’ sake, and were dressed and ready to face the day with ample time to spare before their agreed rendezvous with Russwood.

“I’m sorry to leave you with all this,” Reese commented, packing their pajamas, swimming trunks, and lotions into one shopping bag.

“Don’t mention it. Ah… John?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t I pay you enough to afford your own toothbrush?”

“You do, Harold – most certainly.”

“Then why are you taking the hotel’s?”

He pointed to the toothbrush case in Reese’s hand, which he had been about to tuck into his pajamas.

“Because this case is the perfect size for… opening things.”

“‘Opening things’?” Finch echoed, not catching on.

“Yes. And it’s very well-made – very smooth – so it won’t cause any… irritation.”

Still not comprehending, Finch blinked in confusion as he stared at Reese.

“Oh, good grief, Harold!” Reese finally burst out. “What did you think I was doing in the bathroom last night?”

“Uh…”

It took a full minute before the context of the statement and the shape of the object converged to create a unified picture in Finch’s head.

OH! Oh, oh, oh… Er… I see…” Finch stumbled, flushing a bright red. Reese laughed to see him so discomfited, and planted a kiss on his flaming forehead before going into the bathroom to grab another toothbrush case.

“This one we’ll save for you,” he smirked, dropping it into the bag.

“Ah… of course,” Finch responded before excusing himself to press a cold washcloth to his face.


They arrived in the lobby ten minutes early (after Finch had finally returned to a normal color) and found the Russwoods and Havers already checking out. The Havers were taking Mrs. Russwood back to their house, so the retired Senator was reassuring his wife and giving her directions on what to do until things were sorted out. Finch turned to Reese and handed him the battery out of his cell phone.

“Take this as a spare,” he said, remembering that they hadn’t charged their cells overnight. “You can call me at the library number if you find anything. I won’t be listening in much today, since I don’t want to waste your battery, and I also don’t want our client to become suspicious of our… capabilities.”

“Understood,” Reese said with businesslike efficiency.

“And… I know that you’re always careful, as much as you can be, so I won’t tell you to be careful, John, but… please, take care of yourself.”

Reese glanced down at his shoes to hide the grin that threatened to usurp his calm, professional demeanor.

“I will,” he finally managed, then leaned in to place a quick kiss on Finch’s cheek. Finch was too startled to avoid it, even if he had wanted to.

“Uh… Good morning,” came the slightly gruff voice of Russwood from behind Reese.

“Good morning, Senator,” Reese replied with perfect aplomb.

“Good morning, Mr. Russwood,” Finch added, pulling himself together. “I’ll be sending my car for John later today, so you needn’t worry about his transportation. Depending on what he finds, you may want to have your own vehicle handy.”

“All right, then,” the older man nodded. “Shall we?”

“Of course,” Reese said, and followed him into the awaiting limousine.

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6 Comments

  1. Chase Evlyn-Smith

     /  2012/08/20

    I th0ught since n0 0ne else reveiwed yet, I will… Let me just say I was S0 happy t0 have f0und this st0ry again! And I l0ve yur style 0f writing! I’m a big fan 0f y0ur Gay!Reeses I’m in l0ve with him! XD I l00k f0rward t reading m0re 0f y0ur w0rks, espeacially the Harry P0tter 0nes! XD

    Reply
    • Aww, thanks! 😀
      Please don’t expect much from my Harry Potter fanfics, though… most of them have been left abandoned for lack of impetus… :p

      Reply
  2. “I do love you, John” was really, really cute ^^
    This story is going great!

    Reply
  3. Marcelle

     /  2014/11/28

    “Yes, this is… my better side.”

    Such a good line!

    Reply

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