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Dream a Little Dream of Me – Ch. 4

Finch set his phone down on the table and leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. This was absurd. Grown men did not sulk, did not act like petulant children, did not harbor feelings of resentment toward their employee because he turned out to not be the literal man of their dreams. It was ridiculous. And he had a feeling it was wearing on Reese’s patience.

He’d tried to forget the dream, tried to put it out of his mind, but every time he thought of Reese – and it seemed like everything reminded him of the man – he could feel those warm lips against his forehead again, hear the whispered I love you, and it opened the raw wound in his chest all over again. It hurt so badly, because it had felt so real, and because he wanted it so much.

But that didn’t matter. Only the Numbers mattered. Finch straightened up and pushed his chair back, struggling to his feet, his hip stiff from sitting too long. He limped over to his List, staring at the long column of numbers, so many people, so many lives, so much pain. Together, he and Reese had kept the List from growing, had slowed the natural decay of civilization. He could not trivialize all that they had accomplished, could not jeopardize all that they could do, not for something so selfish and inconsequential.

Turning away, he made his way down one of the back halls to the lounge. He filled his kettle and put it on the hotplate, then decided to clean out the mini-fridge while he waited for the water to heat. The shelves were filled with cartons of fried rice and chow mien, slices of pizza and boxes of chicken wings, most with just a bite or two left in the bottom. Pulling over the garbage can, Finch knelt in front of the fridge, ignoring the pain in his body as he reached to the back of the shelves.

It was Reese who insisted on saving the leftovers, a habit Finch assumed he picked up during his time on the street. When food was tight, nothing was thrown away. And Reese probably would have eaten everything he saved, but Finch didn’t trust re-heated take-out. He insisted on having it fresh, and so the fridge slowly filled up.

He had just finished chucking the last container when the kettle began to whistle. With a groan, he levered himself up off the floor, using the fridge for support, his knees aching. He was too old to be kneeling on linoleum. He turned off the hotplate, measured his leaves into the tea strainer, and poured the water through. The aromatic steam filled the air, just the heavy, damp smell helping to ease the tension from his shoulders. This was all he needed, just a little time to relax. The next time he spoke to Reese, everything would be back to normal.

He took a slow, appreciative sip of the hot tea, the steam fogging up his glasses. He waited for the lenses to clear, then turned to head back out to his computers. He stopped short, almost slopping the scalding liquid all down his hand.

“Mr. Reese, I thought I told you to knock,” he snapped at the operative, standing no more than an arm’s length away.

“Sorry, Harold, didn’t mean to startle you,” Reese said, but his voice was flat and without sincerity. It made Finch distinctly uneasy.

“What are you doing here?” Finch asked. “I said I’d call you.”

“We need to talk.”

Finch’s mouth went dry, his skin cold as a thin thread of fear wound through his gut. Reese didn’t frighten him often – when he’d slammed him against the wall in the hotel, when he’d been waiting in Finch’s cubicle, when he’d taken Andrew Benton, when he’d made Finch get out the car on his birthday – but when he did, it was a cold, hopeless sort of terror, like realizing you’re in a room with a monster you can’t outrun.

Finch turned away to hide his shaking hands as he set his mug of tea down on the counter. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Reese said, his shoes making a soft sound as he took a step closer. Finch tensed, his heart pounding in his throat.

“Mr. Reese, I- I- I would like you to leave now.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Harold,” Reese said, that low, intimidating voice edging even closer. Finch could almost feel Reese standing behind him, the monster breathing down his neck. Finch had always wondered if it was panic or hope that made people run even when there was no chance of escape. Now he knew. It was panic. He pushed himself away from the counter, scrambling for the door, a brittle yelp escaping him as Reese grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back, shoving him up against the counter.

Finch tried to push him away, only to find his wrists seized in a vice-like grip, his arms shoved back down to his sides.

“What did I do?” Reese demanded, scowling, angry.

“You didn’t do anything,” Finch said, gasping for breath. “Let go of me.”

“If I didn’t do anything, why are you acting like this? Why are you mad at me?”

“It’s personal.”


“I had a dream about you,” Finch confessed, feeling the color rise into his face as he averted his gaze. “You kissed me and- and you said you loved me.”

Reese drew back, releasing Finch’s wrists, his menacing aura vanishing. The monster disappeared. “And that made you angry?”

“The fact that it was just a dream made me angry,” Finch said, his voice low. “Now, if you don’t mind, I-” He tensed as Reese stepped toward him again, reaching up and gently removing Finch’s glasses. “What are you-”

“Goodnight, Harold,” Reese whispered, making the short hairs on the back of Finch’s neck stand on end. Reese leaned close and pressed a soft kiss to Finch’s forehead, one hand sliding back through Finch’s hair. “I love you.”

Finch gaped at him, for a moment unable to think. How did he know? It was just a dream. How did he-

“It wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“No,” Reese said, drawing back as Finch shoved past. This time, Reese didn’t stop him. Finch made it as far as the doorway before he got a hold of himself, mastering his fight or flight response enough to stop, his hands braced on either of the door frame and his head bowed as he struggled to control his breathing.

“Did you really mean it?” he asked finally, not looking back at Reese.

“Yes,” Reese said, his voice quiet and low. Finch felt like he’d had the breath knocked out of him. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of it all. “Are you really afraid of me?” Reese asked, his words like a fist inside Finch’s chest, squeezing his heart.

“Sometimes…” he whispered.

“I’d never hurt you, Harold.”

“I know,” Finch said, turning to look at him, his vision blurry. Reese stood at the counter, looking down at Finch’s glasses in his hands. “I know that now.”

“Do you?” Reese asked, his brows drawn together when he turned around. “Do you trust me?”

Finch hesitated.

“I didn’t think so,” Reese said.

“You didn’t let me answer,” Finch said. “I once told you that trust wasn’t something that I came by easily. I have my reasons. I’ve been betrayed, I’ve been used, I’ve been hurt – I don’t trust people. But I trust you. It’s not easy for me and sometimes I forget, but I would trust you with my life.”

“What about your heart?” Reese asked softly. “Would you trust me with that?”

“Yes,” Finch answered.

“Would you trust me with your body?”

Finch hesitated again, taking slow, deliberate hobbling steps across the room to stand before Reese. “I don’t know why you would want it, but yes, I would.” This close, Reese was almost in focus, and Finch could make out the softening of his expression. Not pity, but understanding.

Reese handed his glasses back and Finch settled them in place, wondering what they were supposed to do with this newfound understanding of each other, but as with many situations, Reese seemed to already have a plan. Reese raised one large, strong hand, his callused fingers smelling of gunpowder as he cupped Finch’s face. Tongue darting out to moisten dry lips, Finch took a shaking breath as Reese bowed his head. Everything about Reese was reflected in his kiss – it was confident, determined, skilled, powerful, and a little frightening, but Finch found himself opening his mouth to the operative, a jolt shuddering through him as their tongues touched.

When Reese finally drew back, they were both flushed and out of breath, Finch’s lips tingling and his heart pounding. Reese’s hand slid down to tug at Finch’s tie, pulling at the knot until the tie slid free. He set it on the counter, then turned his attention to Finch’s jacket, sliding it back off his shoulders and down his arms before tossing it across the room, onto the battered leather sofa against the far wall. The waistcoat quickly joined it and Finch swallowed hard as Reese attacked the buttons on his shirt, pulling the tails and undershirt free before giving Finch’s belt a tug.

Finch took an unsteady step backward. “Aren’t you feeling a little overdressed, Mr. Reese?” He was still wearing his coat.

Reese arched an eyebrow. “Eager to get me out of my clothes, Mr. Finch?” he replied, shrugging out of the coat almost in slow-motion, each movement fluid and graceful, like watching a dancer undress. Reese shed his sport jacket as well and unbuttoned two more buttons on his shirt before closing the distance between them. Reese leaned close, but stopped just shy of kissing him.

“How far will you let me take this, Harold?” he asked, his lips brushing against Finch’s.

“As far as you want to go,” Finch answered, feeling light-headed. “I trust you.”

“Do you?”

Finch started to say yes, but the word stuck in his throat as Reese took him by the arm and turned him around to face away. “Wha-” He tensed, drawing a sharp breath as Reese pulled his arms behind his back and wrapped something around his wrists. Finch glanced over at the counter, where his tie no longer lay.

“Is that too tight?” Reese asked and Finch made the mistake of pulling against the restraints, a swift and sudden rush of panic racing through him when he couldn’t get free. He pulled harder, jerking, struggling, his breath coming in short gasps, a frightened sound escaping him as strong hands grabbed his shoulders, warm breath falling on the side of his face as Reese leaned close to him.

“Easy, Harold,” he murmured. “Just relax; I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I…I know, I just…” He didn’t like being helpless. He knew Reese wouldn’t hurt him, but there were so many other unknowns. What if he tripped? What if there was a fire? What if someone broke into the library? What if his phone rang? What if he had an itch? He was completely helpless, unable to do so much as scratch his nose.

Reese turned him around, something feral and desperate and frightened in those dark blue eyes. What was he afraid of? Reese stepped into him, hands sliding beneath Finch’s shirt, untucking his undershirt and working beneath the thin material. Finch gasped as Reese gripped and kneaded his flesh, hands creeping upward, fingers finding and teasing his nipples into hard, aching nubs. Finch was panting, small, whispered moans escaping him as Reese explored his body, his cock quickly growing hard within the confines of his trousers.

“John…” he whispered, pleading. Reese kissed him, tongue invading his mouth and rendering him mute. He struggled against his restraints, fingers flexing, hands aching to touch Reese, to pull at his clothes, to comb through his hair. He groaned into Reese’s mouth as the operative’s large hands slid down his body, cupping his ass and pulling him closer, Reese’s hips rocking, grinding their clothed erections together. If this turned out to be another damn dream…

Reese broke the kiss suddenly, hands slipping down to grab the backs of Finch’s upper thighs, and Finch made a surprised, indignant noise as Reese lifted him off his feet and set him on the counter.

“Mr. Reese, this is hardly-” He fell silent as Reese began unbuckling his belt, his mouth going dry as Reese popped the button and slowly lowered the zipper, long, skillful fingers easing into his pants. Reese teased him through the silk of his boxers, making him gasp and shudder, before drawing him out. Finch felt his face heat up as Reese gazed down at his cock, unable to act on the urge to cover himself. Fingertips grazed his shaft, thumb stroking the frenulum, the sensitive spot on the underside of the crown, a drop of glistening pre-come beading up at the tip, and Finch let out his breath in a long, helpless moan.

Reese glanced up at him, a hunger in those intense eyes, holding his gaze as he oh so deliberately dragged his thumb through the drop of moisture and smeared it around the head. Finch shuddered, leaning back against the wall, his heart pounding in his throat as Reese bowed his head, taking Finch into his mouth.

“Oh…Oh, John…” Finch breathed, unable to produce a more coherent sentence as he was overwhelmed by sensation. It was so hot and wet and tight, and when Reese suckled the head, his tongue languidly stroking the slit, Finch found himself pressing back against the wall and trying to lift his hips, to find more of that wonderful wet heat. Strong hands grabbed his waist, holding him down, holding him still, and Reese drew back, punishing Finch with soft breaths against his damp skin and slow, open-mouthed kisses on the crown.

“Please…John, please,” Finch whispered.

“Don’t beg, Finch; tell me what you want.”

“What do you think I want?”

“Tell me. I want to hear you say it, describe it. Talk dirty to me Finch.” His tongue darted out to lap at the slit, making Finch groan and squirm.

“Yes, like that…Do that…”

Reese chuckled. “For someone who reads so much, your vocabulary seems to be lacking.”

“Get me down off this counter and we’ll see how loquacious you are while I’m sucking your cock.”

“Now that’s more like it,” Reese said, sliding down Finch’s shaft and swirling his tongue around the head before drawing back and looking up at him. “Is that a promise?”

“You bet it is,” Finch replied. “Now suck on me, John. Wrap your lips around my shaft and suck my cock until I come in your mouth. Swallowing is optional, of course.”

“Oh, Harold,” Reese moaned, diving for Finch’s crotch. He made wet, wanton noises as he bobbed his head in Finch’s lap, taking him almost to the base, licking and sucking with a fervor that left Finch light-headed, a heaviness gathering low in his gut, his muscles tightening, his breath growing short.

“Oh, God, John, I’m-” He cried out as he spilled himself in Reese’s mouth, hands clenching into fists behind his back as Reese continued to suck, swallowing every drop until Finch was left spent and panting. Leaning back against the wall, Finch watched Reese straighten up, absently wiping the corners of his mouth with one hand before glancing up to meet Finch’s gaze. There was something hesitant and frightened in those blue eyes, a nervousness Finch had never seen in Reese.

“Finch?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, John,” Finch answered. “Now get me down off of this counter, or I won’t be able to keep my promise.”

Reese was all confidence again as he smiled, tucking Finch back into his pants before wrapping his arms around him and quickly untying the tie from around Finch’s wrists. Freed, Finch grabbed Reese’s shoulders to steady himself as Reese slid him to the front edge of the counter, Reese’s large hands cupping his ass again and easing him down onto unsteady legs. Finch took advantage of the opportunity, leaning heavily on Reese and forcing the younger man to steady him, giving Finch the chance to lean close and bury his nose beneath the edge of Reese’s open collar, breathing deep of his scent like he would examine a fine wine – the hint of aftershave, the sweat, the musk – something he’d been wanting to do for months.

Drawing back, he looked up at the taller man. “Trust is usually a two-way street,” he said. “Do you trust me, Mr. Reese?”

“Of course,” Reese said immediately.

“Really?” Finch asked, reaching back and picking his tie up off the counter. Reese smirked and arched an eyebrow before turning away from Finch and crossing his wrists behind his back.

Finch snorted. “As if there’s any knot I could tie that you couldn’t untie in ten seconds or less. I have a better idea.” He reached up, Reese tensing slightly as Finch placed the strip of cloth over his eyes and secured it behind his head. “Now take off your shirt,” Finch said, his voice quiet as he surreptitiously toed off his shoes. In stocking feet, he stepped slowly, making no sound as he moved around in front of Reese, watching the man finish unbuttoning his shirt and shrug out of it.

“Now your shoes,” Finch said, Reese’s head snapping toward the sound of his voice. Finch took a couple more steps, then reached out, his fingertips touching Reese’s chest. Reese flinched back, his hand moving faster than a cobra’s strike to grab Finch by the wrist. “John?” Finch inquired. He saw Reese take a deep breath, then let him go.

“This is an interesting game you’re playing, Finch,” he said, a slight edge to his voice. “I’m not quite sure that I like it.”

“Well…I was quite sure that I didn’t want to be tied up and set on the counter, but that turned out all right, didn’t it?” Finch said, trailing his fingers down Reese’s chest, the muscles twitching beneath his skin, Reese’s breath growing ragged as Finch drew a line just above Reese’s belt with his fingertip. Pulling his hand back, Finch stepped aside.

“Take three steps forward,” Finch said, “then turn forty-five degrees to the right and take two more steps.” He limped along beside Reese as he followed the instructions, stopping before the battered leather sofa. Finch picked up his jacket and waistcoat that Reese had tossed over, shaking out the wrinkles before setting them in a nearby chair.

“What now, Finch?” Reese asked.

“Drop your pants.”

“Just like that?” Reese asked, a hint of nervous laughter in his voice. “Whatever happened to foreplay?”

“This is foreplay, Mr. Reese,” Finch replied, moving silently to stand behind him. As Reese began unbuckling his belt, Finch leaned close and blew softly along the ridge of Reese’s spine, raising goosebumps across his shoulders and up the back of his neck. Taking another step, Finch closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the back of Reese’s neck, letting only his lips touch the operative. He heard Reese draw a sharp breath and felt him shudder.

“I suppose it is,” Reese murmured, his voice rough and husky. His trousers slid down his legs to pool around his ankles and Finch drew back as he stepped out of them. For a moment, Finch just admired the view – Reese’s lean, tanned body, hidden by nothing but socks and boxer-briefs, a flush darkening his skin, his arousal evident. Finch licked his lips before tearing his eyes away.

“Very good. Now, right in front of you is the sofa. Lie down.”

Reese seemed to hesitate, then took a small step forward, his hands extended as he bent down, feeling for the couch. His hands touched the worn leather and he lowered his long body onto it, the creak and groan of the leather masking any sounds Finch might have made as he hastily stripped off his own shirt and pants. As Reese settled himself, his head on one arm of the sofa, his feet resting on the other, and his hands folded on his chest, Finch hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and shoved them down, peeling his socks off and leaving him stark naked.

“Are you still there?”

“Of course,” Finch replied, moving to stand beside the couch, one hand absently stroking his cock as he stared down at Reese, who was oblivious.

“Good. I thought for a minute…maybe this was revenge for something and you’d left me here like this.”

Finch chuckled. “Relax, John. I’m not going anywhere.” He considered the prone man for a moment, then moistened his lips. “I want you to put your hands behind your back and keep them there. Don’t move unless I tell you to. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Reese answered, the leather squeaking again as he shifted.

“Good.” Finch leaned over him, bracing one hand on the back of the couch as he reached down and pinched a nipple, making Reese gasp and arch into the touch, a long, low groan escaping him as Finch rolled the nub between forefinger and thumb. He did the same to the other one, teasing it to a hard point, before sliding his hand back and forth over Reese’s stomach, caressing every inch of hot, smooth skin, tracing every scar, every mark on his way down to the waistband of Reese’s boxer-briefs. Reese was hard and straining against the thin material, his length and girth well-defined beneath the cloth.

With a devious smirk, Finch ran a fingertip along the bulge, down to the base and then back to the tip, Reese panting as his hips twitched. Straightening up, Finch used both hands to pull Reese’s briefs down, freeing his stiff cock. Finch slid the underwear down Reese’s legs, taking off his socks as he finished removing them. Reese was breathing hard now, his face flushed red.

“So, Harold – You like what you see?” The difference between a flirting Reese and a nervous one was subtle, but Finch noticed. There was a tremor in his voice, a tightness that Finch found surprisingly comforting. He was only human after all.

“Very much indeed,” Finch replied. “Now, show me the rest. Spread your legs. Put this foot on the floor.” He tapped Reese’s ankle, stepping out of the way as Reese obeyed. Slowly, Finch climbed onto the sofa, kneeling between Reese’s spread legs and adjusting his body until he found a comfortable position for his damaged hip.

“I didn’t bring any lube,” Reese said suddenly, nothing subtle about his unease now.

“Don’t worry,” Finch said, placing his hands on the insides of Reese’s thighs and gently stroking the soft skin. “I’m not twenty anymore. I doubt I’ll be ready for such activity for quite some time.” Suddenly, something occurred to him. “Have you ever done that before?”

“Not that specifically,” Reese said, shifting slightly on the couch. “I’ve been with a few men over the years, but I was always the one on top.”

“And is that how you want to keep things, with you always on top?”

Reese gave his head a small shake. “I want to feel you inside of me, Harold. Just not without proper lubrication.”

Finch laughed. “All right, but don’t think you’re going to get away with being on the bottom all the time, either. If you had brought lube, you’d have to fight me for it.” And then without warning, Finch leaned down and took the head of Reese’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, Harold!” Reese gasped, his legs shifting restlessly as Finch licked and sucked. Finch’s hands weren’t idle either, one stroking the shaft while the other fondled Reese’s balls and teased the perineum, that small, smooth bit of skin between his balls and anus. Reese groaned and panted, making desperate, helpless noises. It was music to Finch’s ears.

After a moment, Finch sat up, giving his lips and tongue a rest as he slowly pumped Reese’s cock, keeping him on the edge of bliss. “I don’t hear you reciting Shakespeare,” he teased.

“To be, or not to be,” Reese panted. “To come, or not to come.”

“I know the answer to that,” Finch said with a chuckle. He leaned back down and kissed the tip of Reese’s cock, then turned his attention upward, leaving a trail of kisses on Reese’s stomach as he slowly crawled up his body. Beneath him, Reese squirmed and moaned, arching as Finch licked and sucked at his nipples before moving up to nip at his neck and jaw. As Finch approached Reese’s mouth, the hardened operative whimpered.

“Please, Harold…kiss me…” he whispered.

Finch captured his lips, sliding his tongue into Reese’s mouth, the kiss deep and passionate. More than sex, this was what Finch wanted, dreamed of. He lowered his body onto Reese’s, groaning into Reese’s mouth at the wonderful, tactile sensation of skin against skin, damp with sweat, the feel of another heart beating so near his own, Reese’s hard cock rubbing against him, his own responding with surprising vigor. He rocked his hips, grinding against Reese and making him buck.

“Oh, Harold…” Reese moaned between kisses, the dark, sultry sex in his voice making Finch shudder. There was just one more thing he wanted, one more thing that would make the moment perfect, but it might be too much to ask. There was a reason he’d blindfolded Reese, a reason he’d made him put his hands behind his back, a reason in the form of a long, ugly scar on his hip, and another on the back of his neck. Like this, Reese could imagine him that way he wished he could be, but if Reese touched the hard, knotted ridges, if he saw the damage…

“John…” Finch whispered, lips moving against Reese’s as he spoke. “You can hold me, if you’d like to.” He tensed as Reese rocked to one side, then the other, freeing his trapped arms, his hands ghosting over Finch’s back, fingers tracing the line of his backbone and making Finch shiver. Those big, warm hands settled lightly in the middle of Finch’s back, slowly roving over his body. Finch drew a sharp breath, his kiss faltering as one of Reese’s hands brushed the back of his neck.

Reese froze immediately. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“No,” Finch said. “You won’t hurt me, I just…”

“This doesn’t bother me,” Reese murmured, dragging one long finger down the rough ridge of flesh, his lips plucking at Finch’s. “I love you, all of you, just the way you are.” Strong arms wrapped around Finch, holding him close, his body shaking as he took a shuddering breath around the lump in his throat. After losing Nathan, after losing Grace, after the accident, he’d resigned himself to the fact that he would never be loved again. It wasn’t safe to get involved with anyone, it wasn’t fair to drag anyone else into the line of fire, but Reese had willingly strode beside him into the danger zone, and now…

“I love you, too, John,” Finch whispered, pushing the blindfold back off Reese’s eyes, his hand wandering up into Reese’s hair, his fingers sliding through the thick, silky strands. Reese stared up at him, an intensity in those dark blue eyes that bordered on frightening. Reese kissed him, hands continuing their slow exploration as their hips rocked, pre-come slicking their skin, the heat and friction making Finch’s head spin. Reese grabbed his uninjured hip, his large hand gripping and kneading the flesh as he rutted against him, his breathing growing strained and ragged.

“Are you going to come soon?” Finch asked, murmuring against Reese’s lips.

“I’m waiting for you,” Reese replied. “Are you ready? Will you come with me?”

A small smirk tugged at the corners of Finch’s mouth. “Talk dirty to me, Mr. Reese.”

“I want you to come, Harold, I want to feel your cock throb against my mine as you cover my stomach with your thick cream; I want to fill this room with the smell of sex; I want to leave stains on the couch and this moment indelibly etched into your memory. And then later, once we have a chance to do a little shopping, I want to fill you with my hard cock, I want to hear you moan my name as I come inside you, and then I want to ride you until you come in me, until neither of us can walk. I want you to fuck me until I can’t see straight.. Now come, Harold. Come for me. Let me come-”

“John!” Finch cried, his hips jerking as he spilled himself between them. Reese’s grip on him tightened, the younger man thrusting, grunting, a strangled cry escaping him as he came, their mingled fluids thick and slippery on their skin. Finch was still shaking inside as he collapsed on top of Reese, pleasure thundering through his veins, a roaring in his ears that reminded him of the ocean.

For several long minutes, neither of them moved or spoke. Finch felt better than he had since before the accident, all the little aches faded away to nothing, his pain masked by a fog of feel-good chemicals in his brain, but eventually the afterglow began to fade and he found himself shivering, the air cold on his naked back. He had just made up his mind to get up when Reese’s hands began rubbing up and down his back, the warmth and friction chasing the chill from his skin.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Reese said softly. “Just to be able to hold you is more than I ever dreamed of.”

“Please don’t use that word.”

“What word?”

Dreamed. If this turns out to be nothing but a dream…”

Reese chuckled. “It’s not. But if it was, I’d never want to wake up.”

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  1. Anonymous permalink

    All I can say is, thank you. This was the perfect end to this story.

  2. I like the unabridged version much better! πŸ˜‰

  3. Mamahub permalink

    Oh my goodness! What a fabulous ending! I think I need to go change my underwear! πŸ˜‰

  4. deliacerrano permalink

    This is a much better version! Wish this site had an alert system. Great story. It’s not showing as completed so I can hope for more.

    • Thanks! You can sign up for updates, which is kind of like an alert system. I didn’t want to move the story to completed because I was afraid people would have a hard time finding it, but I am contemplating adding another chapter from Reese’s POV. If I can find time, I might do it.

      • That sounds like a great idea (hint, hint). I hear you about having too many ‘irons in the fire’ in regards to fanfiction writing….you have my empathy!

  5. kmmerc permalink

    Amazing! I loved the misunderstandings, the hesitation and the heat! Wonderful story!

  6. Cindy K. permalink

    Oh my…(fanning self)…that was one hot little chapter.. Reese seeking control, yet secretly hesitant, it felt like his character. Must say, I loved how you worked in the bondage elements with the initial grasp all the way to the use of the neck tie. Perfect, it fit. Especially, Finch’s self conciousness and use of the tie as a blindfold. Thank you for a great read.

    • Thank you! I wasn’t sure if the bondage fit and I almost deleted all of it, but I didn’t have time to write it a different way, so I had to leave it. Now I’m glad I did. Thanks! ^_^

  7. Danni permalink

    Read both versions. This one wins πŸ™‚ The part missing from FFN (okay, the erotic segment) dealt with Reese and Finch overcoming their trust issues on different levels. You even started the groundwork for a new relationship – “Don’t beg, Finch. Tell me what you want.” All fit. One very nice piece of writing!!!!

    • Thanks! I try to make my erotic scenes part of the plot or character development, and not just gratuitous, and I appreciate hearing that I succeeded. ^_^

  8. rainiejanie permalink

    Awww. Just… awwww.

  9. Ahhh… so much better than the edited version! (I must admit, I checked that one first, out of habit.)

    So many favorite lines! “Talk dirty” was great! Reese quoting Shakespeare was awesome!! XD The bondage bit caught me by surprise, but it all made sense. So glad to see the boys getting what they deserve!!

    As always, THANK YOU for a wonderful, romantic, smutty, very satisfying story!! ^_^

    • Thanks! Usually, this version and what I post on FFN are the same; I think this is the first story that I’ve edited. (I thought about making it a more smooth transition, something less noticeable than just cutting out the scene, but I wanted people to notice, lol, to encourage them to come here. ^_^

      I wasn’t quite sure about the bondage bit myself, but by the time I decided I wanted to delete it, it was too late to write a different version and I had to leave it, lol.

      Thanks so much for reading and commenting! ^_^

      • It’s too bad about FF but I’m happy to have found WP — gotta groove to unlimited pages/posts! ^_^
        I liked how you worked out the bondage, though — both guys have a hard time relinquishing control, so it was an act of good faith for both of them.
        Looking forward to more of your work!! πŸ˜‰

  10. Plink42 permalink

    I read this one first, so now I won’t even bother with FF. Such a satisfying wrap-up (so to speak ;)). I love happy endings! *sniff*

  11. Two emotionally damaged, “dead” men on a suicide mission against the world – no one to rely on but each other – why shouldn’t these two make each other happy while they can? I love these two together. I’m looking forward to that moment when one of them brings the lube to the library.

    And of course, if Mr. Reese is sore the next day, he can always USE THE CUSHION! (Don’t worry – I’ll get tired of that reference eventually.)

    • …although I think the proper response to, β€œHave you ever done that before?” might be, “Does Stanton’s strap-on count?”

    • If I can find the time, I might add another chapter to this story from Reese’s POV, and if I do, they will make a trip to a drug store. πŸ˜‰ (And if I do, there will mention of THE CUSHION.) Thanks for the comment! ^_^

  12. managerie76 permalink

    Heck Yeah!

    Perfect ending.
    Bondage was light enough to work as a first time.
    It served a purpose here.
    Not just a kink.

    Although that works too.

  13. Anonymous permalink

    Thanks so much for another super story! I don’t normally read slash, but you do it so well…I just can’t help myself! LOL Great job. And thanks for mentioning this site in your notes on so that I can keep up with the ‘grown-up’ stuff.

    Keep up the great work and keep cool!

  14. Mary permalink

    Loved this story. You did a terrific job

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