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Hard Water

His hip aching, Finch made his way up the library stairs and through the corridors, Reese limping along beside him, both of them covered in soot and mud, and in Reese’s case, more than a little blood. Most of it wasn’t his, small comfort that it was. Their most recent number had turned out to be an arsonist working up to graduating from vacant buildings to occupied apartments, but Reese had made sure he’d never play with matches again.

“Is it all right if I leave?” Reese asked when they reached their center of operations. “I need a shower.”

“Of course,” Finch replied, wondering why he’d troubled himself to come all the way into the building. He could have dropped Finch off on the corner. “There is a shower here, you know.” He gestured toward one of the lesser-used halls. Reese stared down it for a moment, then glanced back at Finch.

“What about you?”

“I can wait. It’s no trouble,” he added when Reese still lingered in the entryway.

“No, you go ahead,” Reese said. “I need to call Carter and explain why there’s a charbroiled college student with his knees shot out on his way to the hospital.”

“You really should consider varying your M.O. so it isn’t quite as east to link these…incidents to you,” Finch said, not wanting to call them crimes even though, technically, most of them were. Reese just shrugged. Finch hesitated a moment, then turned and headed down the hall. “I’ll be quick,” he said.

“No hurry,” Reese called after him. “You know how Carter is with her questions.”

Finch allowed himself a small chuckle. The woman certainly had no shortage of those. He admired a strong sense of curiosity, but sometimes it was like she wanted everything handed to her on a silver platter. Where was her enjoyment of solving the puzzle herself? Then again, the puzzles she dealt with on a regular basis were homicides, and he didn’t imagine there was much enjoyment to be had.

Stepping into the bathroom, he turned on the light and shut the door, peeling off his suit jacket and letting it fall to the floor. Crumbles of dried mud and fine, black soot sprinkled the white tiles wherever he stepped, and his reflection stared back at him from behind the mirror as if it didn’t recognize him, his face covered in black smudges and his hair looking like he’d just gotten out of bed. He stripped down to his underclothes before laying his glasses on the counter, the room going out of focus. He turned on the water in the shower stall, then slipped out of his T-shirt and boxer shorts.

The hot water felt heavenly beating against his skin, the dirt and grime swirling away down the drain, the tightness in his neck and shoulders easing. He closed his eyes and for a moment, just stood and let the heat soak into his weary body, but he didn’t have time to linger. Reese was waiting, and he had earned this a lot more than Finch had.

Finch was just rinsing the shampoo from his hair when a sound caught his attention. It sounded like the door opening and closing again. But that couldn’t be. The only one in the library was– “Mr. Reese?” Finch asked, his voice echoing inside the enclosed space.

“Yeah, Finch, it’s just me.”

Finch breathed a small sigh of relief, but he was still very confused. “I’m sorry, was I taking too long?”

“No, I– I need to talk to you about something.” The catch in his voice set Finch on high alert, and he looked warily out through the frosted glass, watching the dark shape that moved in the room beyond.

“Well, it would appear that you have a captive audience, Mr. Reese,” Finch said, trying to keep his tone dry and not let on that he was thoroughly unnerved. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was thinking about today — in that warehouse, when we got separated by the smoke, and the fire was all around us…and I couldn’t find you — and I realized that I didn’t know what I would do if I ever lost you. You are…everything to me and I can’t spend one more day pretending that what we have is just a business relationship.”

“Reese, I…” Finch trailed off, feeling like his world was spinning. His heart was racing, pounding in his throat. He tried to think, to find something to say, but before he could, the door to the stall slid open and a very naked John Reese stepped inside. Finch’s vision was blurry, but not that bad, and his eyes just about popped out of his head before he turned away. “You could have just told me to hurry up,” he said, trying to slide the doors the other way so he could slip out the other side. Reese reached out and pushed the sliding door closed again, trapping Finch in there with him.

Finch froze, his racing heart making it hard to breathe. “Reese, what are you doing?”

“Easy, Harold,” Reese said softly, his voice low. “I’m not going to hurt you. Tell me that you don’t want this and I’ll leave and we’ll never speak of it again.”

“Reese, I–”

“Look at me and say it.”

Finch hesitated. “That’s not fair,” he said, turning slowly, his gaze falling upon a lean, strong body, tanned skin slick with shower spray, marked by dark bruises and pale scars. He swallowed hard. “I…We shouldn’t do this.”

“Tell me that you don’t want me.”

“I…” Finch closed his eyes in defeat. “I can’t.” Because he had promised not to lie, and although he had a laundry list of reasons why this was a bad idea, the truth was, he wanted Reese, sometimes so bad it hurt. He gasped as he was unceremoniously shoved up against the shower wall, a shudder running through him as Reese’s naked body pressed against his own. “John–”

Reese silenced him with a kiss, capturing his lips with both skill and desperation, the operative’s hands sliding over his slick skin, clutching at him. Finch groaned as he felt Reese’s cock growing hard, his own body responding in kind as Reese began to rock his hips, rutting against him. As long as it had been — for both of them, unless Finch was mistaken — he didn’t expect either of them to last long, and with no guarantee that this moment of ill-advised weakness would ever repeat, there was something he wanted, something he needed.

He grabbed Reese’s shoulders and pushed. Reese stepped back, looking startled. “Harold?”

“Just hold on,” Finch said, sliding the door open and stepping out, water dripping off of him all over the tile floor. Grabbing his glasses, he slipped them on and pulled open the medicine cabinet, rifling through the contents before jerking open the drawers under the counter. It had to be there somewhere. He wouldn’t have thrown it away.

“What are you looking for?”

“Found it,” Finch said, his hand closing around the small, unopened bottle. Tossing his glasses onto the counter, he stepped back into the shower and handed it to Reese.

“Lubricant?” Reese asked, arching an eyebrow. “Why do you–”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Finch countered, turning his back to Reese and bracing his forearms against the wall. He heard the crackle of the safety plastic being peeled off and he took a steadying breath, trying to force his body to relax. It had been a long time, since before Nathan had been–

Finch gasped as the cool, slick lubricating gel was rubbed across his opening, his muscles clenching reflexively. Reese stepped closer to him, stroking a fingertip over his entrance, Reese’s other arm wrapping around Finch’s waist, his large hand sliding up Finch’s belly and chest. Finch groaned as he rolled a nipple between his finger and thumb, while at the same time easing a finger inside of Finch.

“Oh, hell, you’re ambidextrous,” Finch panted, drawing a chuckle from Reese. Finch closed his eyes, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady and even. That one finger felt longer and thicker than some of the men he’d been with, but that was probably because it was inside of him and they were just faded memories. And it had been a hell of a long time.

“You’re a little tight, Harold,” Reese all but purred against the back of Finch’s ear. “Try to relax.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Finch groaned. “Just hurry up or this will all be a moot point.” He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning aloud as Reese worked a second finger into him, and then a third. His muscles burned, stretched beyond their usual tolerance, but it wouldn’t last, and the reward…

He cried out, hands clenching into fists against the tiled wall as Reese sank his cock into him, filling him with a delicious heat and fullness, a wholeness that he had missed so much.

Reese faltered and stopped. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Finch said, giving his head a small shake, his voice strained. There was pain, but it was insignificant, trivial and fleeting when compared to the dull, ceaseless ache he was used to in his hip and neck. “Please…don’t stop.”

The hot water rained down over them, relaxing Finch’s shoulders as Reese licked and bit at the wet skin, his arms wrapping around the slippery body as he rocked his hips, driving deeper. Finch gasped and panted, his whole body shaking as Reese tightened his grip, holding him still as he pressed close and held himself there, as close as two souls could be.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Reese whispered against Finch’s neck.

“So have I.”

Finch drew a slow breath as Reese withdrew, leaving him empty and wanting, then groaned as Reese slid back inside, fucking him deep and slow, each thrust to the hilt, making Finch shudder and squirm, shifting his feet as he tried to push back to meet him.

“Harder, John, please,” Finch begged.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Reese said, his voice strained from holding himself in check.

“You won’t.”

“I might.” His hands slid down to Finch’s hips, gripping so hard Finch knew he’d be bruised later, but he didn’t care. He lived with pain every day of his life, pointless, useless pain. This was different.

“Damn it, John, fuck me, or I swear I’ll fire you,” Finch said, clenching around Reese as he slowly withdrew again. Reese made a feral noise, his face pressed into the crook of Finch’s neck, and Finch cried out as Reese slammed into him, the slap of wet skin on skin loud in the enclosed space. “Yes, yes…” Finch panted, an electric tingle racing down his spine as he felt teeth against his shoulder, fingernails digging into his flesh. He liked it rough, and he liked it more that he wasn’t treated like a cripple, like he was made of glass. Reese hammered into him, and what pain there was only sharpened the pleasure, made each thrust across his prostate like a flicker of lightning in his groin. He was so hard, the water from the shower pattering against his sensitive skin and running down his balls. “So close…so close…”

Reese shifted a hand to Finch’s cock, callused fingers wrapping around his shaft, and Finch couldn’t stop himself from bucking into his grip. “Don’t,” he gasped. “Don’t touch it. Make me come…just your cock.”

Reese pulled his hand away, teeth scraping across Finch’s skin. “Don’t know if I can,” he growled. “I can’t– I’m gonna lose it, Finch.”

“Yes, do it; come in me,” Finch said, his hip giving a sharp twinge as he shoved his ass back against Reese. He’d be lucky if he could stand after this, but oh, it would be worth it. Reese made a strangled sound, muffled by a mouthful of Finch’s shoulder as he bit down, and Finch felt him jerk, his frenetic rhythm faltering, his thrusts growing short and urgent. “Yes…yes…”

“Harold!” Reese gasped, his voice carrying a harmony of desperation and gratitude, fear and joy and abandon, and Finch closed his eyes, his body stiffening as he came, the pleasure rolling through him like a wave and leaving him dazed and breathless, his legs shaking. He shuddered as Reese pulled out, leaving him empty and alone. He stood, leaning against the wall, a tremor running all through his body, waiting to hear the shower door slide open. This was when Reese would leave. If this was just about sex, he’d leave. If this was just a game, he’d leave. If this was guilt or loneliness or pity or curiosity, he’d leave. Finch waited, bracing himself, building up his walls again, trying to hide the cracks, hide the fact that he’d let Reese inside, metaphorically as well as physically.

A hand touched his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Quite all right, Mr. Reese,” Finch replied. The hand withdrew.

“I hurt you, didn’t I?”

Finch gave his head a small shake. “No, you didn’t.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

Slowly, Finch straightened up, letting his arms fall back to his sides. He stepped back, trying to turn, and his hip gave out, a stabbing pain making his leg buckle, but strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him from falling. He looked up, squinting as he tried to bring Reese’s face into focus. “Thank you,” he said, “but I really am fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Then why is it back to Mr. Reese again? What happened to John?”

“Habit, I suppose,” Finch said, averting his gaze. “And…and maybe I was preparing myself for you to leave, now that you had gotten what you wanted.”

“You think that’s all I wanted?” Reese asked, stepping into him and pressing him back against the wall, wet, naked skin slippery against him. Finch clutched at him, trying to keep the weight off his bad leg. Reese kissed him, slow and deep, his hands sliding over Finch’s skin, his touch tender. He drew back, looking down into Finch’s eyes. “What I want…is you.” Finch groaned as those soft slips claimed his again, tongue sweeping through his mouth, hands stroking and kneading his back and hips.

The water began to grow cold and Reese reached over, shutting it off. The silence broken only by the dripping showerhead and their heavy breathing, Finch looked up at Reese. “What now?”

“You’ve got a bed around here somewhere, don’t you?” Reese asked with a crooked grin as he slid the shower door open and reached out for two towels.

“Yes, but…I’m not sure I can walk to it, let alone do anything once I get there.”

“Relax, Harold,” Reese said, draping one towel around his own shoulders before using the other to give Finch a quick rubdown. “I’ll do all the heavy lifting, regardless of whether you want to sleep or be fucked into a quivering, helpless puddle, because as long as I have what I want, I’ll do whatever it takes to give you what you want.”

When Finch was reasonably dry, Reese toweled himself off, then tossed both towels into the hamper before stepping back over to Finch, a devious smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. Before Finch could do much more than squawk in surprise, Reese had swept him off his feet, cradling him against Reese’s broad chest bridal-style. Finch started to protest, but Reese silenced him with a kiss.

With a sigh, Finch relaxed into Reese’s arms. “Bedroom’s the second door on the left.”

13 Comments
  1. SeveRemus permalink

    LOVE it!

  2. T'LIRA permalink

    I LOVE YOUR WRITING, YOU ARE TERRIFIC, PLEASE KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. P. S. PERSON OF INTEREST IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE SHOWS TOO!

  3. Mamahub permalink

    I’m so glad you have found a safe place to re-post all your wonderful stories!

    • Me, too! I hated the idea of not being able to share my work with all of you wonderful readers. Thanks for checking it out! ^_^

  4. Penemuel permalink

    Love this so much 😀

  5. deliacerrano permalink

    Another terrific story! You keep coming up with the BEST stories with the BEST sexy loving scenes! They are such a unique couple.

  6. Chase Evlyn-Smith permalink

    I have t0 admit… I freaking L0VE y0ur st0ries!!! Damaged is where y0u g0t me h00ked!! I’ve been dying t0 finish reading it!! And n0w I can!! I’m s0 happy I might cry!! ^0^

  7. masa permalink

    Love the story! This is really HOT!
    I’d like to translate this “Hard Water” into Chinese to share your great work with Chinese irrelevants. I’ll credit you fully and post it at http://www.mtslash.com (a slash site for movies&TV, registration-required).
    Is that OK with you? It’ will be my pleasure if I can get your permission.^_^
    Thank you very much!

  8. re-reading a favorite

  9. lunarg permalink

    I like this version of Harold very much!

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