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Caught in the Act – Finch

Silent as a cat, Reese slipped inside the old library and climbed the stairs, making his way down the long, book-lined halls to their inner base of operations. They had wrapped up the most recent case that afternoon, rescuing a young mother who had been kidnapped and held for ransom, and though he knew he should have been trying to get some sleep, he was still too keyed up to rest. He’d gone back to his hotel, taken a shower, and started to watch some TV, but the restlessness in his limbs drove him back out into the dark city streets, and his feet carried him unerringly to the secret lair.

It wouldn’t have surprised him to find Finch gone already, though it would have been a disappointment. It was juvenile and immature, but he took great pleasure in surprising the private and reserved man. Finch knew so much, he strived so hard to keep control of any situation, and it was amusing to see him flustered, to hear him at a loss for words, to catch him off-guard.

This time, Finch wasn’t the only one caught off-guard. Reese raised his eyebrows, the back of his neck burning as he stepped into the room and found a most unexpected scene. Finch sat at his table, his gaze so intent upon his monitors that he hadn’t even noticed Reese arrive. He was leaned back in his chair, his trousers unzipped, his breathing loud and ragged as he stroked himself.

Reese felt a sympathetic stirring in his own pants as he watched Finch’s skilled fingers play over the shaft and he smirked to himself as he moved farther into the room. “What are you watching, Finch?” he asked, his voice low.

Finch jumped like he’d been shot. “Mr. Reese! I must insist you learn how to knock!”

Reese ignored him as he tucked himself awkwardly back in his pants. “You strike me as a Naughty Nurses or Lusty Librarians kind of guy.” He walked toward Finch’s chair, catching a glimpse of black and white surveillance camera footage before Finch could grab the mouse and open a minimized document on top of the image of someone’s bathroom, the angle focused on the shower.

Reese chuckled. “My dear, dear Mr. Finch,” he murmured, placing his hands on the back of Finch’s chair, “I wonder what other dirty little secrets you’re hiding.”

“My personal life is none of your business,” Finch said, his voice tight, almost panicked. Reese frowned. He would have expected angry and embarrassed, but this was closer to desperate and frightened. Why? Reese pictured the image he’d glimpsed, the nondescript bathroom somehow familiar. Was Finch watching someone Reese knew? Finch started to get up. “Mr. Reese, I want you to leave–”

Reese grabbed him and shoved him back down into his chair. “Who are you watching, Finch?” he asked, reaching for the mouse. Finch knocked his hand away, but Reese quickly put a stop to that, drawing his gun and pressing the barrel against the side of Finch’s neck as he leaned over him. Finch made a wordless noise of protest as Reese minimized the document and started the footage playing again.

After a moment, the door of the shower stall opened and Reese stared in utter bewilderment at the figure that emerged. No wonder the bathroom had looked familiar; it was the one in his hotel room. Finch was spying on him. The Reese on the screen dried himself and started to get dressed, then the footage looped around and began again with Reese taking his clothes off.

Reese looked down at Finch, sitting rigidly in his chair, his face flushed, his breathing ragged, his erection still evident in his trousers. “I must say, Mr. Finch,” Reese said, making Finch flinch, “this is somewhat unexpected.”

“Mr. Reese, I- I–”

“Shhh, don’t speak,” Reese said, shifting his pistol to rest against Finch’s chest. “Put your hands on the table.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” Reese said. “Put your hands on the table, palms flat against the wood.” Finch hesitated, then obeyed, his hands trembling as he laid them flat on the table. On the monitor, Reese stripped off his briefs and stepped into the shower. The glass door obstructed the view somewhat, but not enough to protect Reese’s privacy. “Do you like this part, Finch; watching me wash my balls?” he asked, whispering against the side of Finch’s neck and making him shudder.

With his left hand holding the pistol, Reese reached down and slipped his right inside Finch’s trousers.

Finch drew a gasping breath, his whole body stiffening, and grabbed at Reese’s arm. “John, what the hell–”

“Hands on the table, Finch,” Reese repeated, his voice soft and steady, masking the racing of his heart, the thundering of his blood in his ears. When Finch didn’t move, Reese lifted the gun and trailed the barrel down the side of Finch’s face, a kiss of cold metal. Finch swallowed hard and placed his hands back on the table. “Good, now keep them there.”

Reese moved slowly, palming Finch’s balls before wrapping his fingers around Finch’s cock and drawing it back out of his trousers. A strangled whimper escaped Finch as Reese began to stroke him, his touch light and teasing. Thick, clear precome beaded up along the slit and Reese swiped his thumb through it, rubbing it around the head and making Finch squirm, his hands curling into fists against the table surface.

Reese stopped. “Hold still, hands flat,” he ordered.

Finch groaned as he pressed his palms against the wood. “Reese, I’m sorry,” he gasped, his whole body shaking.

“You think this is vengeance, Finch?” Reese asked, the corner of his mouth quirking in a crooked smile. “And here I thought you were some kind of genius.” He began to move his hand again, firm strokes that meant business, and Finch tensed, biting his lower lip as he fought to remain still. Reese brought him to the edge, then backed off, slow, feather-light strokes making Finch whimper. “No more cameras, Finch,” Reese said seriously. “I like my privacy, too. Understood?”

“Yes…yes…” Finch gasped. “Please…”

Reese began to pump him in earnest again and turned his head, nuzzling the soft skin behind Finch’s ear as he murmured, “The next time you want to watch me shower, just ask.” Finch jerked his hips, his breathless cry echoing in the quiet room as he came, and Reese took advantage of his distracted state to nip and suck at his neck, leaving his mark on the pale skin.

Drawing back, Reese smirked down at a gasping and trembling Finch, splatters of semen soaking into his shirt and trousers. Reese regarded the pearly drops that had landed on his hand, then wiped them on Finch’s shirt before patting him on the shoulder. “Go change your clothes, Finch,” he said as he tucked his weapon away and headed down the hall. “I’ll bring your camera back in the morning.”

“Mr. Reese!” Finch’s voice rang out and Reese glanced back as Finch lurched to his feet. “Don’t you ever point that gun at me again,” he said.

Reese nodded once. “All right,” he said, letting a slow smile play across his lips, “even though you know I’d never use it on you.” Finch didn’t even try to argue; he’d promised never to lie. Reese turned away again, only to have Finch call out to him for a second time.

“Reese?” He hesitated, absently adjusting his glasses as he looked down at the floor. “You’ll find a second camera hidden in the entertainment center.”

“I see,” Reese said. “Well, maybe I’ll leave that one there until morning. I’ve got a hell of a hard-on I’ll have to deal with when I get back to the hotel. I hope you have enough room on your hard-drive, Finch.”

4 Comments
  1. T'LIRA permalink

    A very good story and also very yummy.

  2. deliacerrano permalink

    Such a pair! They wouldn’t work with anyone else but they fit each other perfectly. So sexy yet so caring.

  3. deliacerrano permalink

    Your stories are always a good re-read!! They are even better the second & third time .

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