Lord Finch ~ Chapter 3

Lord Finch was still quite flustered when, about an hour later, Sir Donnelley knocked on his sitting room door to report that the female assassin had been captured and was being brought to the castle.

“Would you like to interrogate her, your Lordship?” he inquired stiffly through the door.

Lord Finch was about to decline, but he remembered what Sir Donnelley’s concept of “interrogation” looked like.

“Perhaps I ought to,” he sighed, putting aside the book he had been reading and getting up out of his favorite chair. It was just as well, for he had not been able to concentrate on the words at all – his mind kept wandering to the amazing way John Reese had touched him, to how the handsome man had looked up at him from under his long eyelashes, how his perfectly formed mouth had wrapped around his manhood, his tongue licking and teasing him… In fact, Lord Finch had not been reading so much as reliving his wonderful experience from that morning.

“Of course it was only because he wanted to get out of the dungeons… maybe get a decent job,” he told himself sternly, but regardless of the other man’s motives, what had happened had actually happened, and that was enough to affix a vapid grin on Lord Finch’s face. If he had been a decade younger, just remembering it would have been enough to make his manhood harden again.

Shaking such thoughts from his head (as much as was possible), Lord Finch went out into the hallway to face Sir Donnelley, whose masklike expression betrayed none of his earlier horror at having walked in on his master sharing such an intimate moment with a prisoner. A male prisoner to boot. The captain knew full well that he could not let any of his subordinates know how stridently his body had responded to the sight of two men engaged in such an activity – he would never be able to command their respect again. But he could dream. Oh, he could dream!

However, he revealed nothing of those dreams as he led Lord Finch down to the courtyard. Their progress was rather slow, for the older man had already made more than his usual number of trips up and down the stairs, so that by the time they reached the ground level the new prisoner had already been taken down to the dungeons. As they caught up with the group of soldiers that had brought her in – still shrieking her displeasure – Lord Finch noticed that she was bound to a chair and being carried that way, chair and all.

What had happened was this: once Carter had picked her out in the gypsy camp, she had lured to her to sit down for a complimentary facial, then tied her wrists to the armrests while her eyes were closed and covered with cucumber slices. Cara was of course furious at having been captured, and since she tried to bite anyone and anything that came near her face, she had been brought to the castle as is. Carter had commandeered a wagon to carry her after tying her ankles to the legs of the chair, too, so she couldn’t kick.

Now she was threatening to sue them all with the help of the ACLU, her words peppered with more expletives than a drunken sailor. She suddenly shut up, though, as she was being carried past John Reese’s cell door, for the man had been calling her name through the tiny grated window and she had finally heard it.

“Cara, calm down,” John told her. “It’s going to be all right.”

“John?!? I thought you were dead,” she gaped. The soldiers carrying her (and her chair) thoughtfully stopped so she could talk to the other prisoner.

“That was the idea – we needed Snow to think I was dead,” John explained. “And I told them about you—”

“You TOLD them about me? You flipping TOLD them, you son of a beagle?!?” she interrupted in a howl of rage.

“Cara… Cara! I did it to keep you safe,” John said, not raising his voice to match hers but rather repeating himself in a low, insistent tone until she listened.

“Safe? You call this SAFE?!?” she fumed.

“Yeah, compared to being dead,” he replied. “I overheard Evans talking to Root – you know, that pretty bean counter Snow hired last month? – and he was telling her that once you were done with this job, Snow wanted you ‘terminated’… You know as well as I do what that means! And that the sooner she took care of it, the sooner they could go forward with plans for their… ‘nuptials’.”

This bit of information was met with deadly silence for a moment.

“That… That two-timing, back-stabbing ORANGUTAN!” Cara burst out. “That son of a bichon frisé!! I’ll kill him. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands until his eyeballs pop out of that balding head and string him up by his own wimpy entrails! I’ll make him eat worms and furry caterpillars! Him and his pretty little bean counter…!”

She continued to list all manner of unpleasant things which she wished to do to them, but at a nervous nod from Lord Finch the soldiers carried her into an empty cell and closed the door, muffling her rants somewhat. From the other door, John Reese was peering out at Lord Finch with a faint, satisfied smile on his lips.

“See? I told you that you wouldn’t have to pay her once she knew,” he reminded. “All you have to do now is let her out to go after Snow – and his new girl – and you won’t have to worry about him anymore. Trust me, Cara is just as capable of killing people as I am.”

“Er… yes, of course,” Lord Finch mumbled, blushing and avoiding eye contact with the other man.

“We cannot allow assassins to run loose through the countryside,” Sir Donnelley put in with a look of severe disapprobation. “The proper protocol is to appeal to the King, informing him of the assassination plot on Lord Finch and the subsequent plan to raise troops for a rebellion. Then His Majesty will decide on the right punishment for Count Snow and any of his cohorts.”

“How long will that take?” John asked, rather pointedly.

“It depends on how quickly we can gather the evidence against Snow, and then it will probably take a year or two to file the paperwork,” Sir Donnelley assessed. “Then Snow will want to appeal, no doubt, so another two years at least to process that—”

“My way is much quicker,” John interrupted. “And why do you have to gather evidence? I already told you what he was trying to do and how he was planning to do it.”

“The word of an assassin won’t hold up in a court of law,” Sir Donnelley said without attempting to hide his disdain.

John regarded him shrewdly. “You’re just sore because I didn’t offer my services to you, too – aren’t you?”

“Oh, my – look at the time!” Lord Finch hurriedly said, pulling out his watch from his waistcoat pocket. “We need to be getting upstairs…”

Sir Donnelley was only too happy to comply, so they left two soldiers to guard the two cells and listen to Cara’s continued rants and threats.

 


 

The rest of the day was spent in not only composing and writing the letter to King Ingram, informing him of what they had learned (almost verbatim what John Reese had told them), but also selecting a small contingent of soldiers to deliver the letter as well as making sure they had enough saddlebags filled with provisions for the journey. By the time Lord Finch had finished his dinner and settled back down into his favorite chair to read a bit before turning in, he was thoroughly exhausted. It might have had something to do with his… very special encounter that morning with the handsome prisoner, he thought to himself with a sigh as he opened his book to the very same page as he had been trying to read earlier in the day. He had about as much success in actually reading it this time as well, so he decided to go to bed early. Surely, being almost assassinated was cause enough for feeling tired.

He awoke with a start to find that someone was in his room. In fact, that someone was in his bed. While he himself was in it. And that someone was on top of him, planting tender kisses all over his face. That someone was none other than John Reese.

“W—Wh—What…” Lord Finch stammered, hardly knowing what he wanted to say.

“Shhh… You don’t want Donnelley to come bursting in again, do you?” John asked, his sexy voice seeming to curl like smoke into Lord Finch’s ear and wrap itself around his heart. “It’s all right, I sent Cara on her way to deal with Snow so you don’t have to worry about him. And since I saved Cara from getting killed by him, she owes me one, so I don’t have to worry about her killing me, either. So now we can both… just… relax…”

“B—But… how on earth did you get out from the dungeons?” Lord Finch finally asked, even though John was distracting him by more kisses down his neck.

“Easy. I had a paperclip hidden in the heel of my boot. Along with a few other… handy tools,” he explained, untying the front of Lord Finch’s silk nightshirt so that he could move his lips down the older man’s chest. “I had to knock out the guards, but they’ll be okay – maybe just a bit of a headache in the morning.”

“Ah… I… see…” Lord Finch gasped, feeling heat surge through his body as John used his hands, lips, and tongue to touch him. The former prisoner’s jaw was still unshaven, scratching against Lord Finch’s skin, but even that only served to arouse him more. He could not believe that the handsome man was here, in his bed, wanting him again.

“W—Wait!” he demanded suddenly, trying to push John off. “You could get Cara out of my castle, but you… you didn’t leave with her?”

“Of course not. Where would I go? Snow was my last employer and I couldn’t make ends meet at my old job, remember?” John said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I would like to stay here if you don’t mind. If you can’t find some work for me, I can try to make myself useful in… other… ways…” he offered, resuming his kisses down Lord Finch’s stomach.

“Oh… Oh, my… Well, I… I suppose… we can find you… some sort of… position,” the master of the manor murmured.

After placing one last kiss on Lord Finch’s bulging manhood through his silken underwear, John asked, “How about this position?” with a grin, moving over to crouch on the bed beside him. As he pushed back the bedcovers, Lord Finch saw that John had already stripped out of his clothing and was naked except for the bandages wrapped around his torso. The tall man bent his knees, drawing his legs up underneath his body, and pressed his shoulders down onto the mattress so that his bare ass was pointing up into the air. “I borrowed some cooking oil from the scullery,” John admitted, “although I’m hoping they won’t be wanting it back. I couldn’t help myself… After tasting your hot, manly cock, I just had to have it inside of me… pushing into the deepest part of me… making me yours forever…”

Lord Finch’s manhood had already begun to swell in anticipation, but having John Reese actually begging him to enter that beautiful body made it strain against the delicate fabric of his underwear, threatening to rip through it completely. He could hardly shove the garment down past his cock since his hands were trembling as well. Then before he could hoist himself up into a sitting position, he caught sight of John’s hand – two fingers, to be exact – sliding in and out of his crack.

“Just putting… more oil… inside,” John panted, his eyes half-closed as he stroked his inner pleasure spot. “There’s some more… oil… in this pouch… for you…”

Lord Finch stared at him without moving or speaking for a minute, his jaw hanging slack for so long that he nearly drooled. The dreamy, happy smile on the younger man’s face was enchanting. Lord Finch might have been to content to watch him that way all night, but John had other ideas.

“Mmm… Lord Finch… I want to feel you… in here… filling me up…” he moaned, gazing up at him with wanton desire.

Swallowing hard, Lord Finch grabbed the leather pouch he had been offered, fumbling with its small opening. He slathered a liberal amount onto his now weeping manhood, watching in fascination as John pulled his own fingers out of his hole – which was now stretched open like a cave, ready to be explored. The tight globes of his ass were presented to him in a most delightful way and his hips were at exactly the right height for Lord Finch to enter him. And so, without further ado, enter him he did.

The heat and tightness that pressed against him in a ring nearly drove him to the brink and beyond, but Lord Finch caught himself with a monumental effort, wanting to fulfill his new lover’s wish of being “filled up.” Before long he came to a part of the passage that had not yet been widened and so had to proceed more slowly; however, the sweet moans and whispered words of encouragement from John kept him pushing further, deeper, into the hotness of his welcoming body. After a few more minutes of excruciating patience, his cock was in as far as it could go: his balls were pressed tightly against John’s crease.

“Ohhh… so… good…” John whimpered, echoing Lord Finch’s expression of delight from that morning. “Please… more… I want more…”

Lord Finch hardly needed any encouragement. He began pulling back and pushing in repeatedly, using long, hard strokes to forcefully bump into the physical limits of their union. Every time he drew back, John’s entrance would pull against his skin, loath to let him out; and every time he thrust back in, John’s body would quiver with delight. He marked the spot where, when the tip of his cock rubbed the inside of John’s passage, John squirmed the most and made the most satisfied groans, and he began to aim for that spot deliberately. It was near the entrance of the tunnel, so he had to pull out almost all the way and risk coming out altogether – in fact he did become disconnected once or twice, only to hurriedly fit himself back in – but it was worth the trouble to hear John’s husky voice rising in helpless ecstasy.

“Oh… Lord Finch… oh… Harold…” he breathed, one hand tucked under his body to pull on his own straining manhood. “I… I’m so close… so… close…”

“John… oh, John… so beautiful…” Lord Finch murmured as his movements grew quicker and more desperate. He was supporting his weight by grabbing John’s hips with both hands, carefully avoiding his bandages, and as his need became more urgent, he bucked into the younger man’s oil-slicked body with increasing abandon. His balls slapped against John’s skin in a frantic drum-beat of lust, but neither of them could hear it above their own fevered breathing.

“Oh! Oh! OH!! OH!! OHHH!!!!!” John cried, trembling violently as he shot out his seed in several long ejaculations on the bedding. His entire body clenched around Lord Finch’s cock, causing it to release its treasure hoard of hot liquid as well.

“J—J—JOHHHHHN!!!” Lord Finch responded, feeling the twitching at the base of his manhood turn into an electric tingling as he shot his male issue into the younger man’s body, pleasure coursing through him as he was relieved of his burden. They pressed themselves together for a few last times, emptying themselves completely, before collapsing – exhausted but exhilarated – on the bed.

“That… was… amazing…” John panted, slowly stretching out his legs.

“I… ah… I’m sorry,” Lord Finch said as he struggled to get up off of him, pulling his spent manhood out and trying to avoid touching his bandaged back. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“It’s all right – I can’t feel any pain now,” John told him, turning a smile toward where he had collapsed on the bed. “Although I must say, your bed is much more comfortable than the wooden slab you gave me downstairs…”

“Ah… yes… I wouldn’t doubt it,” Lord Finch agreed, still out of breath.

“Can I stay here for the rest of the night?”

“Oh… of course…”

“What about the rest of my life?”

“Um… You really want to?”

“Yes.”

Lord Finch considered this for a moment.

“All right. You’re more than welcome to. But I just have to warn you, if you’re hoping to get your hands on the rumored treasure…”

“I’m not. Besides, I know there is no treasure – I would have found it by now if there were.”

A small smirk crept into Lord Finch’s face.

“Actually, there is… but not the sort of treasure that most thieves hope to find…”

“Oh?” John asked, propping up his head on one hand. “Do tell.”

“Books, my good fellow. I’ve invested all of my wealth in books. Do you have any idea how much work it is to copy one of those by hand? It can take a lifetime or more. Some of my books are… simply priceless.”

John ran a slender finger down Lord Finch’s chest as a coy smile played on his lips.

“Then your treasure is safe from me… and from any thieves who may try to break into this castle. Not that they could, as I well know…”

The handsome former assassin leaned in to kiss Lord Finch again, this time directly on the lips. Lord Finch felt no fear as he was wrapped in John’s arms, and they both fell asleep immediately thereafter.


Epilogue

Cara was successful in carrying out all of her plans for Count Snow and his new mistress. She was later rumored to have been hired by an Earl with plans for an insurrection, but those rumors are largely unconfirmed.

There were always more thieves who attempted to enter the fortress, only to be caught in the traps with less fortunate endings than John Reese. Their fresh carcasses were fed to Fusco, who seemed to prefer beef.

John Reese attended one of these feedings and took an interest in the rather overweight dragon. Using sides of beef as incentive (as well as, it must be admitted, a whip at times) he trained the dragon to fly with a saddle and reins made of steel chains. On market-fair days, he would offer dragon rides for a few pennies, much to the delight of the children and young dare-devils of the village. Fusco became more svelte as well, and lived a longer, healthier, and happier life because of it.

Sir Donnelley was not thrilled with John Reese’s arrangement with Lord Finch at first, but grew to accept it in time. After Szymanski was injured in a hunting accident, he was so attentive in visiting the soldier on his sick-bed that the two became intimately involved, much to the amusement of the other soldiers. However, they could hardly taunt them for their relationship since Lord Finch also had a male consort, so eventually Sir Donnelley and Szymanski became more comfortable in openly acknowledging their fondness for each other.

Lord Finch was a much happier man since John Reese came to warm his bed, and he could often be heard reading from his precious books to his lover, who turned out to be quite intelligent in his own right. They enjoyed taking long walks on the ramparts or in the rose garden, discussing what they had just read or devising better traps and fortifications. And of course, they lived happily ever after.

The End


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14 Comments

  1. Plink42

     /  2012/07/29

    Never give John a paper clip. No good ever comes of it. 😉

    Cara got Snow, Fusco got thin, John and Finch are together and Donnelly’s getting some. Everybody’s happy! *applause*

    Such a strange little AU, but I liked it a lot. Hope to see more like this.

    Reply
    • Thanks so much! I didn’t know how it would fly, but it was short enough that I wanted to at least give it a chance. Plus I’m hoping it’ll put me back in the groove for writing POI. 😉

      Reply
  2. ‘“You TOLD them about me? You flipping TOLD them, you son of a beagle?!?”’ lmfao. XD ‘“You’re just sore because I didn’t offer my services to you, too – aren’t you?” “Oh, my – look at the time!”’ lol, I just love that. Smooth, Finch. XD ‘John asked, his sexy voice seeming to curl like smoke into Lord Finch’s ear and wrap itself around his heart.’ Ooh, I love that. And how he just shows up on top of him. XD
    I’m sad to see it’s over. I very much enjoyed this fic. So cute, so good. I’m glad with the Epilogue. ^.^ Thanks for another good one! 😀

    Reply
  3. Aww, it’s over. T_T But it was awesome. The ending was perfect, especially Fusco, lol.I giggled at the fact that Donnelly and Szymanski hooked up. You should write some Donnski fic, 😀

    Reply
    • Aww, thanks! I just wanted to pair off Donney with someone, and Szymanski was handy. You think? Hm… O.o

      Reply
  4. Mamahub

     /  2012/07/30

    Hot, hot, hot!!! Fantastic images of Finch taking Reese bareback!! *drool*

    I loved the happily-ever-after epilogue for everyone! And I also REALLY appreciated this monologue from Cara about her plans for Mark F-ing Snow and Root:

    “That… That two-timing, back-stabbing ORANGUTAN!” Cara burst out. “That son of a bichon frisé!! I’ll kill him. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands until his eyeballs pop out of that balding head and string him up by his own wimpy entrails! I’ll make him eat worms and furry caterpillars! Him and his pretty little bean counter…!”

    Badass!Cara is on the hunt!

    Reply
    • Everyone seems to assume that Finch will be the “bottom” but I’ve always found Reese to have a seductive femme fatale sort of charm… plus he’s gotta have a cute, tight ass… ;D

      I’m so glad you liked it! Yeah, I had fun with Cara’s diatribe, too. 😉

      Reply
  5. deliacerrano

     /  2012/07/30

    Wonderful, wonderful fairy tale. Absolutely charming! Do some more please. Loved the
    whole thing. Especially appreciated the epilogue. Liked getting all the loose ends tied up in a neat & happy way – getting to get another quick look at Finch & Reese in their contentment.

    Reply
    • Thanks! Sometimes a silly little fairy tale can be the most satisfying (not to mention the easiest to write, LOL). 😉

      Reply
  6. Kate

     /  2015/11/26

    Thank you for a wonderful Thanksgiving tradition!

    Reply
  7. Now THAT was a lovely fairy tale to re-read on Thanksgiving !!

    Reply

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