23. Conjoined

Finch emerged from their kiss feeling light-headed but happy, and allowed Reese to re-position their bodies so that he was sitting between the taller man’s legs, leaning back against his chest while Reese cleaned off both of them with a washcloth. Of course that was simply an excuse for Reese to find out where he liked being touched, but Finch had to admit that it felt good everywhere, even around his neck injury, since his body had learned to trust Reese. When Reese kissed behind his ear, he couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine.

“You like that?” Reese smiled, hugging him closer.

“Yes,” Finch replied, his face slightly warm but not uncomfortably so. His blush grew deeper as Reese nibbled on his ear, pulling his earlobe completely into his mouth to suck on it, but he willed himself to relax and simply enjoy the other man’s attentions.

“Mmm… Your skin is so soft, Harold,” Reese murmured before nuzzling his hair. “So smooth… so… perfect!

“I’m glad you think so, John… although I’m afraid it’s not just my skin that’s soft,” Finch said rather ruefully, looking down at his paunchy midsection.

“What, this?” Reese teased, running his hands over Finch’s belly. “This is just a… shock absorber, for when we go at it like bunnies,” he laughed. “Besides, I have just as much of a spare tire! I let myself go when I left the Agency, I’m afraid, and all that liquor went straight to my waist… I still haven’t been able to get back my girlish figure… I’m not twenty anymore, Harold. I hope you can overlook a little flab.”

“Good grief, John – if you’re flabby, I’m the Pillsbury Doughboy!” Finch sighed.

“Will you giggle if I poke your middle?”

Finch began to giggle even before Reese made good on his threat, earning him more kisses as well as a tender massage around his bellybutton.

“At least I can offer you therapy in the form of these,” Reese declared, wrapping his legs around Finch. “I haven’t measured how long they are, but I think I can give Julia Roberts a run for her money!”

“I’m sure you can,” Finch gasped, trying to catch his breath. He deliberately rubbed the hair on Reese’s legs with his fingers, adding, “Although I’m not sure Julia’s were so furry…”

“That’s extra therapy, Harold,” Reese told him in a serious tone, making him chuckle again. “And you’re not the one to talk! You’re hairier than I am. And you know what that means…”

“What?”

“More hair means more testosterone. More testosterone means a higher sex drive. You’re going to wear my ass out, aren’t you?”

“Hardly, Mr. Reese,” Finch said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not twenty anymore, either.”

“How old are you?”

“Ah… Does it matter?”

“Not really – I’m just curious.”

“Fifty-five.”

No! You’re joking, right?”

“No… Why? Do I look older?”

Hardly, Harold! I thought you were just a couple of years older than me!”

“Well, that’s very flattering… If you’d like to continue thinking so, you’re welcome to.”

“Are you seriously fifty-five?”

“Yes. And I know that you’ve just turned forty-one. Which means that… well… I’m more than a few years older than you, Mr. Reese.”

“Well, you don’t look a day older than forty-five, Mr. Finch,” Reese insisted, kissing his shoulder. “But I’ll keep that in mind and be sure to… handle you with care…”

He reached down to fondle Finch’s privates as he said this, making the smaller man twitch a little nervously with embarrassment.

“I don’t think… there’s much vim and vigor left in there, John,” he managed. “I’ve far exceeded my daily quota already…”

“We’ll just see about that… shall we?” Reese whispered seductively in his ear.

“I think we’ll have better luck… going the other way,” Finch countered, finding Reese’s foot and rubbing the tender strip along the top. He thought he felt an answering prod in his rear quarters from Reese’s privates.

“Oh, Harold,” he groaned. “If you’re going to do that, we’d better finish washing up and get out of here. I’d hate to fuck you on the marble – that would be hard on your knees.”

Finch gulped at the mental image painted by those words, his mouth going dry despite the very humid environment. He followed Reese out of the tub, letting it drain while they both shampooed their hair and rinsed off under the shower.

“Of course, we’ll just have to wash off again tomorrow,” Reese grinned.

“Ah… yes. I suspect we will,” Finch mumbled, feeling somewhat shy under the other man’s frank scrutiny. It still seemed strange to him that Reese was attracted to him physically.

They left the bathroom clad only in towels, but when Finch went to his garment bag to pull out some clean underwear, he was accosted by Reese, who was shaking with laughter as he sidled up to him.

“Harold, Harold, Harold – what are you doing?” he demanded, pressing his still-damp chest against Finch’s back while sliding his hands around him.

“Ah… getting something to wear?” Finch said querulously.

“Harold, I’ll keep you warm, I promise,” Reese said before dragging him towards the bed. “For that matter, we don’t need these pajamas tonight, I don’t think… and what on earth were you going to do with the swim trunks? Go downstairs for a few laps in the pool?”

“Uh… no,” Finch replied rather uncomfortably. “I was actually thinking… we would wear them in the Jacuzzi…”

Reese restrained himself from laughing outright, since it was obvious that Finch realized the absurdity of the notion now. He simply grabbed his own pajamas and folded them with a few deft movements, then tossed them and the trunks onto a chair. Finch followed suit, mentally kicking himself for being unable to adapt to their new status – modesty was hardly necessary when they had already had sex; in fact, clothing could become an unwanted obstacle. But Finch had not been in such an intimate relationship before, and was feeling the disparity of their experience levels keenly.

“Come here, Harold,” Reese’s calm voice soothed as he patted the edge of the bed. He had peeled back the covers and was sitting further in, leaving room for his partner. “Let me rub your shoulders for a while.”

“They feel fine, John,” Finch answered, although he obediently sat in front of him. Reese’s long fingers found their places on his muscles which, while more relaxed than they had been in years, had grown slightly tense during the day. His skillful hands massaged them into releasing their coiled energy again, leaving Finch to moan in gratitude. After one final, loving stroke, Reese kissed the top of Finch’s head.

“How do you usually sleep, Harold? What’s the most comfortable position for you?”

“Well… I usually lie on my side, with two pillows under my head…”

Reese stacked the two pillows, placing them in the center, then moved over and smiled at Finch invitingly. Finch took off his glasses and lay down, the large bath towel still wrapped around his waist. He pulled both pillows into the contour of his neck, but somehow they weren’t quite right.

“What’s the matter?”

“Ah… They seem to be a bit… flatter, than the ones I have,” he confessed. “But it’s not a big deal, John…”

“I don’t want you waking up with a sore neck,” Reese stated and (to Finch’s surprise) removed the bath towel from around his own waist, exposing himself only inches away from Finch’s nose. “Let’s see if this works,” he said, folding the towel and slipping it in between the two pillows. “There… How’s that? Too high?”

“No, it’s just right. Thank you,” Finch told him, settling down and trying to avoid staring at Reese’s privates.

“Harold,” Reese drawled with a sly smirk, “you can touch it if you want to, you know. I know you’ll be gentle with me.”

“I… I wouldn’t know how,” Finch said, panicked.

“Just touch it like you’d touch your own,” Reese coaxed, lying down to face him with his head propped up on one arm. “Go ahead. It won’t bite.”

Hesitantly, Finch reached out to stroke it with a shaking hand. The hot organ grew noticeably firmer under his fingers.

“Touch me, Harold…” Reese pleaded, using his own free hand to stroke Finch’s cheek. “I want you to touch me… hold me… own me… I want to be all yours, Harold – every last bit!”

Emboldened, Finch wrapped both of his hands around it and pulled up on the loose skin with his palms. A glance told him that Reese had closed his eyes and bit his lip to savor the sensation. Remembering how the younger man had instructed him to touch himself over the phone, Finch rubbed a thumb over the slit at the tip, eliciting a gasp.

“Oh, Harold!

“How do you like it, John?” Finch asked, still uncertain. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Just touch it… pull on it,” he panted. “Don’t worry, you won’t break it! I’ll tell you if you get too rough, although I doubt that’s possible. Play with it like it’s a fucking toy. I want to feel your fingers groping every square inch of it…”

Armed with these directions, Finch proceeded to fondle the entire organ from its base, rubbing the twin stones together in one hand while pulling up on the shaft with the other. His fingers (so adroit on a keyboard) probed the secret spot behind the appendage, which Reese had claimed as his own on Finch, and made the bigger man mewl with pleasure.

“Ahh! Ahhhnn… Mmm… Harold! Oh… Nnngghhh…”

Finch found it satisfying to see his partner – who was usually in control of every situation – writhing helplessly before him, craving the stimulation but, having relinquished his right to fulfill his urges, leaving Finch in charge of achieving his release. Sensing his need, Finch quickened the movements of his hands and tightened his hold on Reese’s manhood, driving him deeper into the throes of ecstasy. By the time he felt the warm, sticky fluid leaking from the slit under his thumb, Reese was grasping the corners of the pillows with both hands, his face buried in their ends to muffle his cries.

“John… Are you all right?” Finch asked, keeping up his frenzied tugging on the other man’s organ.

“Ye—Yes… Harold… Oh!”

Reese had turned to face Finch in order to answer, but his half-opened eyes were dark with lust and hunger.

“Do you want to take over now?” Finch suggested, not yet confident in his own abilities to satisfy another man.

“No… I…” Reese swallowed hard, his eyes boring into Finch’s face. “I wanna fuck you! Harold… I wanna pound into your tight, sweet ass until you’re screaming in pain! I wanna plow into you so deep that my cock comes out of your mouth! Harold… my crazy, maddening, adorable Harold!”

Without realizing it, Finch stopped working on Reese’s male member. It was pressing against his hands, anyway, but the lack of stimulation made Reese draw in a shuddering breath after a few seconds.

“Harold! Please, Harold… I need you,” he begged.

“If you want to… p—put it in me, John,” Finch said, recognizing his desperation, “you’re welcome to do so. I’d rather it not be painful, of course, but… I do have a high threshold of pain…”

Reese grabbed one of Finch’s hands and kissed it in gratitude before stumbling out of bed and going to the other side, barely remembering to fetch the bottle of lubricant on his way. Sliding back into bed behind Finch, he hurriedly uncapped the bottle and poured some on his hand, slathering it on his straining manhood and rubbing the remainder into Finch’s crack, which he had exposed by tugging the towel off. He knew that Finch didn’t need any preparation, having been penetrated only an hour before, but he took a deep breath to keep from rushing his partner.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

“I know, John,” Finch told him. “Come inside of me… I want to feel you inside…”

Without further ado, Reese joined their bodies together and began thrusting in deep, powerful strokes. Finch was startled, although pleasantly surprised, to find his own manhood growing again in response to Reese’s rubbing against his prostate; however, he was more concerned with meeting the other man’s needs at the moment.

“John… What can I do, John? Can I do anything else?” he asked.

“Oh, Harold… Just… let me fuck you,” Reese moaned. The tempo of his movements had increased rapidly, although now he was keeping their bodies tightly connected, only moving between deep and deeper inside of Finch. The older man’s somewhat flabby buttocks were providing the perfect resistance for the frenetic slapping of Reese’s hips and thighs, as his core member plundered the tight, hot space of Finch’s interior.

“Oh! Ah! Mmm! Harold! Oh, Harold…” Reese panted.

“John… just do it! Just… fuck me. Fuck me with everything you’ve got!” Finch cried, meaning every word.

“Ah! Ahh! Ahhngh! Nnngghhh! AHH! AHHH! AAHHHH! AAAHHHHH!

With immense satisfaction, Finch felt himself being filled with the proof of Reese’s passion. When Reese fell asleep with their bodies still conjoined, he was content to drift into sleep as well, inexpressibly glad just to have his partner’s arms wrapped around him.

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