Silk Stockings

Author’s Note: This idea came to me several months ago, but I decided it was a little too out there, even for me, so I took the plot-bunny out back and whacked it with a shovel. Then, during a conversation with some fellow Rinch addicts, the subject of cross-dressing came up and I mentioned this idea. They encouraged me to write it and I was able to successfully revive the plot-bunny. What follows is their fault, LOL.

~*~

Reese was ecstatic. After more than a year of tailing Finch, he’d finally managed to follow the man home. At least, he thought it was Finch’s home. One of them. Maybe. It didn’t matter. He waited on the street outside the old apartment building, standing in the shadows and watching Finch as he puttered around the apartment, making dinner, washing his dishes, checking his email. If Reese had not known he was staring at one of the richest, smartest men on the planet, he’d have thought he was watching just another middle-aged, middle-class bachelor unwinding after work, and he was sure that was how Finch wanted it. The man couldn’t even relax and be himself when he was home by himself.

It was almost ten when Finch closed his laptop and rose from the table, loosening his tie as he limped into the adjacent bedroom. Reese found himself straining, holding his breath with what was probably more than just professional curiosity. His fingers twitched, itching to help as Finch unbuttoned his shirt and untucked it from his trousers. Reese’s heart beat faster as Finch pulled at his belt, unbuckling it and sliding it smoothly from the belt loops. No, this was not professional behavior at all.

Reese didn’t care. As long as Finch never found out, what did it matter? He had no illusions, no fantasies that this one-sided attraction would ever be anything more. He was content to stalk him from the shadows, which he would admit probably wasn’t very healthy, but it was what it was.

Shrugging out of his shirt, Finch tossed it onto the bed and walked to the far side of the room, out of Reese’s line of sight. Reese resisted the urge to try and re-establish visual contact – nothing drew attention like movement – and waited for Finch to reappear. And waited.

And waited.

Reese could be very patient when the situation called for it, but after three minutes, he was starting to feel anxious. Was Finch just standing in the corner? Why? Did he know he was being watched? If he did, there was no point in Reese lurking in the alleyway anymore. He waited another minute, then tucked his hands into his coat pockets and sauntered across the street.

The apartment was a bit lax on security – no cameras, no doorman – and Reese slipped in unchallenged, making his way up to the third floor without running into anyone. He paused outside Finch’s door, glancing up and down the hall before pulling out his lock-pick set and making short work of the deadbolt. The security chain was in place, but a pair of heavy-duty wire-cutters took care of that. Finch could take the damages out of his pay.

Slipping into the apartment, he shut and locked the door behind him, standing for a moment in silence, just listening. Very faintly, as though through the walls from one of the neighboring units, he could hear music, something slow and classical. Moving stealthily, he made his way toward the bedroom, peering in through the doorway to find…nothing. Finch’s shirt lay on the bed, but he was nowhere to be seen. Reese peeked into the bathroom, but it was empty, too. Finch was gone.

Annoyed and thoroughly baffled, Reese stalked around the bedroom, looking in the closet and under the bed. He found suits and slippers and an old, battered leather suitcase, but no answers. He began pulling out the drawers in the bureau and rifling through Finch’s socks and underwear, but found no hidden truths there, either. A pair of thin, men’s dress socks escaped the drawer and fell to the floor, and as Reese bent over to pick them up, he noticed the scuff marks on the hardwood. The bureau had been moved, slid aside, and not just a few times, judging by the depth of the marks.

He glanced up, gaze moving over the wall, and a small, smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he found the seam in the wallpaper disguising a hidden door. A worn spot on the wall marked the latch and he pressed it, feeling the faint click of the catch being released. He pushed the door open, revealing the neighboring apartment.

Stepping through, he quietly closed the secret door. The music was louder, coming from the bathroom, and he could hear the sound of water running in the tub. Judging by the faint scent of perfume in the air, the make-up on the vanity, and the lingerie spread out on the bed, Finch had himself a lady friend, a fact that left him both surprised and disappointed. After losing Grace, Reese would have thought Finch wouldn’t take the chance of endangering anyone else.

Grace. Perhaps this was their secret love nest. Reese smirked at the idea, but no, not unless Grace had put on a few pounds since Reese had met her. The lingerie on the bed would be too big for her. Reese ran his fingers down one of the stockings, surprised to find it was real silk, not nylons. A classy lady. But where was she?

He made his way out into the living room of the apartment, but it looked unoccupied, surfaces dusty, the refrigerator empty. No one lived here. He went back into the bedroom and paused outside the closed bathroom door, listening.

“Ouch! Son-of-a-bitch!” It was clearly Finch’s voice and Reese waited, straining to hear a response, but there was only silence. Carefully, he twisted the doorknob, easing the door open and peering inside. What he saw nearly stopped his heart in his chest.

Finch sat in a large, antique claw-footed bathtub, up to his chin in steaming water and frothy bubbles, half a dozen candles flickering in the small room, filling the air with the scent of lavender and sandalwood. His hair was slicked back, his glasses resting on the edge of the tub, and he had one leg propped up on the rim, his shin white with shaving foam. He had a safety razor in his hand and a bright red trickle of blood running down his calf, staining the foam pink.

Reese glanced back at the lingerie on the bed, suddenly unable to catch his breath. There was no woman, just…Finch. He pictured Finch in the fancy nightgown, the burgundy silk and black lace, and felt light-headed as the blood rushed to his hardening cock. Finch in stockings. Finch in make-up. Struggling to control his breathing, he peered into the bathroom again, his mouth going dry as he found Finch staring back at him.

He had two choices – run like hell or face the music, and as hard as he was, he doubted he could walk, let alone run. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped into the room, watching as the color drained from Finch’s face. Reese had never seen a man look so mortified, a painful mix of horror and embarrassment.

“M- Mr. Reese,” he stammered, but that was all. He looked so…vulnerable. And terrified. Afraid that Reese would harm him? Tell someone? Quit? That last one seemed most likely. He should have known by then that Reese would never hurt him, and who would Reese tell? Carter? Fusco? Who would believe him? But quitting, leaving, abandoning their work, forcing him to shoulder the lives of the Numbers all by himself – that was what Finch really feared.

“Take it easy, Harold,” Reese said, his voice low and soft. He stepped farther into the room, shrugging out of his coat as he glanced at Finch’s leg again. “Looks like you cut yourself.”

“You- I- Please leave!” he managed finally, pulling his leg back into the bath. As Reese stepped closer, slipping out of his blazer, Finch seemed to shrink down, as though trying to hide among the mounds of bubbles. Reese rolled back his sleeves, exposing his tanned, muscular forearms, and reached down, taking the razor out of Finch’s hand. Perching on the edge of the tub, Reese sat with his back to Finch.

“Let me see your leg,” he said, letting one hand hang in the hot water. When Finch didn’t move, Reese glanced over his shoulder. “Do you want me to go hunting for it?” he asked, his voice heavy with insinuation. A moment later, he felt Finch’s hairy shin against his fingertips. Following it down to his ankle, Reese raised his leg out of the water again. The shaving foam had washed away, so he picked up the can, gave it a hearty shake, and filled his cupped hand with a mound of lavender scented foam.

Finch made a soft sound as Reese began to spread the foam along his leg, from knee to ankle, reaching underneath to slide his hand over Finch’s calf. It almost sounded like a whimper, but Reese couldn’t see how he’d be hurting the man. This wasn’t even his injured leg.

He dipped his hands in the water to wash off the excess foam, then took the razor and slowly dragged it up from the ankle. The blades clogged with hair after only a short swipe and he paused to swish it back and forth.

“Been a while since you’ve done this?” he asked. “Or is this the first time?” Finch didn’t answer, which Reese supposed was his prerogative. Without another word, he went back to shaving, glad that he was ambidextrous when it came time to shave the back of Finch’s calf. One hand gently cupping the back of his ankle, Reese leaned over the tub, his neck craned to the side as he watched what he was doing with tremendous care. The last thing he wanted was to give Finch another painful nick.

When he was finished, he set the razor down and lowered Finch’s leg back into the water, still holding on to his ankle with one hand as he ran the other over Finch’s smooth skin to wash away the foam and loose hairs. Finch made that same noise again, a helpless, breathy sort of sound that made Reese’s already hard cock twitch within the confines of his slacks.

“All right, now the other one,” Reese said, letting go and reaching out under the water.

“Mr. Reese, please…” Finch whispered.

“Shhh,” Reese soothed. “Just relax, Harold. I know what I’m doing.” He reached down into the water, almost up to his rolled-up sleeves, and felt around, letting his hand wander a bit closer to Finch’s thighs than his ankles. Finch squirmed, his face reddening again, making Reese very curious about what he was hiding under all those bubbles.

He found Finch’s leg and stroked down to his ankle before trying to raise it up. Finch stiffened, slipping further down into the water to take some of the strain off his hip.

“Does that hurt?” Reese asked, glancing back at him.

“A little,” Finch said and he hesitated before adding, “but not as much as if I had to do it myself.”

“Is that why it’s been so long?” Reese asked, spreading the shaving foam up and down his leg. Again, Finch didn’t answer. Reese didn’t press. Picking up the razor, he got to work, moving quickly and efficiently to minimize the amount of time Finch had to be in pain. When he was done, he ran his hand up and down Finch’s leg, appreciating his handiwork before letting go and standing up.

“Is there anywhere else that needs shaving?” he asked, letting his gaze move up and down the length of the tub, as if he could see Finch through the bubbles.

“No, Mr. Reese, that will be quite enough.”

“All right, then,” Reese said, taking a towel off the counter and drying his hands and arms. “I’ll leave you to finish your bath.” He walked out, pulling the door closed behind him. Stepping into the middle of the room, he groaned softly and adjusted his erection. How inconvenient. He knew he ought to jerk off and get the hell out of there before Finch got out of the tub, and pray that Finch would let them forget the whole thing, but he just couldn’t leave. He’d been trying to learn Finch’s secrets for so long, begging and stealing every bit of information, every inane little fact – his favorite restaurant, his choice of beverage, what kinds of donuts he liked – and now he had something with some meat on it, and like a dog with a big, juicy bone, he just couldn’t let it go.

Sinking down on the edge of the bed, he ran his fingertips over the burgundy silk nightgown and matching panties – silky little shorts with black lace around the legs – smoothing the subtle folds in the material as he imagined it clinging to Finch’s body, whispering over his skin. No, at this point he couldn’t have left if someone had put a gun to his head.

He glanced up as the bathroom door opened and Finch peeked out, his glasses fogged up by the steam, his damp hair sticking out in all directions, wrapped up in a plush burgundy robe. It looked like Reese could stop trying to guess his favorite color.

“What are you still doing here, Mr. Reese?” he asked, his tone wary. He lingered in the doorway, one hand clutching at the front of his robe.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” Reese asked, ignoring his question. Finch hesitated, glancing around the room, and Reese watched as a sort of hopeless calm settled over him – the realization that there was no way out of the situation. He couldn’t fight, he couldn’t run, he couldn’t call the police, and they’d known each other long enough for him to know that he couldn’t bribe or threaten Reese into doing anything. He was trapped.

Reese felt a strange mix of conflicting emotions as he watched Finch resign himself, as though to some terrible fate. He was disappointed that Finch could think him capable of hurting or humiliating him, and he was determined to prove what sort of person he really was. He was sad that Finch didn’t trust him, and at the same time, very turned on. Having Finch – private, independent Finch – at his complete mercy made him so hard he hurt. He stood up to relieve some of the pressure and Finch flinched.

“Well, Harold?” he said, keeping his voice soft.

Finch swallowed hard and limped over to the bed, Reese’s gaze dropping to his newly-shaven legs, his skin smooth and pale. Finch picked up the silk undershorts and sat down on the bed, grimacing in pain as he leaned down and shoved his feet through the leg holes. He pulled them partway up, then stood and turned his back to Reese to finish putting them on. Reese got a glimpse of a full, round ass before the robe fell back into place.

Reese could see Finch shaking as he untied the belt of his robe and let it slide off his shoulders, revealing a pale surgical scar on the back of his neck. He tossed it over the back of the chair sitting in front of the vanity, then picked up the nightgown and slipped it on over his head. Reese’s cock strained against the front of his pants, threatening to rip through the zipper as the fine, dark silk slid down Finch’s back, the hem of the nightgown riding mid-thigh. Finch sat back down and picked up one of the stockings, his trembling hands fumbling with the sheer garment as he struggled to gather it up in his hands.

Feeling bad for putting him in such a state, Reese stepped toward him. Finch’s gaze darted up, eyes wide, pupils dilated. He looked terrified. Moving slowly, Reese knelt down in front of him and took the stocking out of his nerveless fingers, neither of them speaking as he gathered up the silk and slipped the toe over Finch’s foot. Letting the gathers slip from his fingers, he moved his hands upward along Finch’s leg, caressing his calf, his thumbs stroking over the curve of his knee, knuckles brushing the inside of his thigh. Finch tugged the hem of the nightgown down as he shifted his feet, spreading his legs to allow Reese to smooth the top of the stocking.

Glancing up, Reese found Finch’s face flushed, lips parted as he panted softly, but Reese couldn’t tell if he was aroused, or frightened and embarrassed. He sat with his hands in his lap, fingers worrying the lace hem of his nightgown. Reese picked up the second stocking and began gathering it up in his hands. As he smoothed the silk over Finch’s injured leg, his fingers touched a hard, gnarled ridge of scar tissue on the outside of Finch’s thigh and Finch jumped as if Reese had stuck him with a pin. Reese tilted his head, trying to see the extent of the damage, but Finch grabbed the hem of his nightgown again and pulled it down over the scar, averting his gaze when Reese looked back up at him.

“Do you have garters?” Reese asked, running his fingertips over the top band of the stocking.

“On the bed,” Finch whispered, still not looking at him. Reese regarded him for a moment, weighing Finch’s obvious discomfort against his own needs and desires, and then turned to the bed, finding the black lace garters under the edge of Finch’s nightgown. Once more, he eased his hands up each of Finch’s legs, the silk now warm to his touch, and settled the elastic garters in place to keep the stockings from sliding down.

Reese rose to his feet and stepped back, eyes like a wolf devouring the sight before him, but Finch wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Is that all?” he asked.

Finch opened his mouth, then closed it again, apparently reconsidering his answer. Finally, he gave his head a small shake and stood up, the silk whispering as he limped over to the vanity and sat down in the chair. Reese perched on the foot of the bed, watching Finch’s hands shake as he began to apply powder to his face. It smoothed his complexion, hiding the faint shadow on his upper lip, and gave his skin a warm shimmer. Next, he dusted on a pale rouge, giving his cheekbones a little more definition. He pulled off his glasses, setting them aside and turning to a smaller, magnifying mirror as he picked up an eyeliner pencil. Reese’s mouth went dry as Finch carefully outlined each eye, the black making his blue eyes seem to glow. He brushed on a pale cocoa eye shadow before adding just a trace of blue-gray.

Reese sat quietly, noting how Finch’s hands had steadied, as though the ritual had calmed him. Finch put his glasses back on, then picked up a tube of lipstick. He read the name on the bottom of the tube, then put it down and chose another. With deliberate care, he dabbed at his lower lip, staining it a faint, subtle rose. He set the tube down and pressed his lips together before picking up a tissue to smooth an uneven edge. Finished, he sat back, his hands folded in his lap, and regarded Reese in the mirror.

“Are you happy now, Mr. Reese?” he asked, a stiffness in his tone.

“What do you do next?” Reese asked.

Finch looked away. “What do you think I do?”

“Show me.”

Finch shoved the chair back and stood up, his shoulders squared and fists clenched, and Reese looked up at him, curious to see how far his indignation would carry him. He knew Finch couldn’t hurt him, but even a few bruises or a bloody lip would be worth it. Finch didn’t seem to have it in him, however. He folded in on himself, shoulders slumping as he limped over to the side of the bed and sat down, taking a deep breath before arranging his pillows and lying down. The gown rode up, exposing the black lace garters, and Reese’s fingers twitched as he fought the urge to reach out, to run his fingertips over the lace one more time.

Finch closed his eyes, taking shuddering breaths as he began to touch himself, his hands gliding over his chest, dragging his manicured nails down his stomach, his fingers tweaking and twisting a nipple through the thin fabric. Reese watched, mouth dry, as Finch shifted slightly and the nightgown crept higher, exposing the lace around the legs of his silk shorts. His hands slid down his body, fingers splayed as he caressed his cock, his stiffening shaft defined through the taut silk. Reese licked dry lips.

“Do you want to be alone?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

Finch’s eyes snapped open. “Now is a hell of a time to ask!”

Reese shook his head. “No, I meant…If you had the choice, would you choose to do this by yourself or would want to share this with someone?”

“Masturbation is by definition a solitary endeavor,” Finch said, his sarcasm dry and cutting. Reese supposed he couldn’t blame him.

“Harold-”

“Mr. Reese, I have never shared this with anyone. Does that tell you anything?”

Reese shivered with delight, though he didn’t let it show. To share Finch’s deepest secret, to be the only one… “It doesn’t answer my question,” Reese said, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed. Like a prowling panther, he crawled up Finch’s body, planting his hands on either side of his shoulders, his knees on either side of his thighs, and he watched the color drain from Finch’s face, his lower lip trembling as he took a shaking breath.

“John…please…” Finch whispered, drawing his hands up defensively.

“Shhh,” Reese soothed. “It’s all right.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to Finch’s. He could feel him trembling, feel the smooth, creamy lipstick on his skin, feel Finch’s hands press against his chest. He moaned softly, his lips parting, trying to coax Finch into kissing him back, but the older man refused, lying stiff and silent beneath him. Reese didn’t let that deter him, though. In fact, he took it as a challenge. He kissed Finch more vigorously, mouth working, lips plucking at Finch’s, smearing his lipstick.

He drew back to catch his breath, looking down at the kiss-swollen lips. “Sorry about that,” he said, bracing himself on one arm as he cupped Finch’s face and wiped the lipstick away with his thumb. “I messed it up.”

“That’s what you’re apologizing for?” Finch asked, giving him an ineffective shove.

“If you want me to stop, just say so,” Reese said, capturing Finch’s mouth before he could speak. He eased his tongue between Finch’s startled lips, exploring the other man’s mouth as his hand gently combed back through Finch’s hair. It was even softer than he’d imagined.

He broke the kiss, leaving Finch gasping. “Tell me, Harold,” he whispered, lips brushing Finch’s cheek. “Tell me you would rather be alone, all dressed up so beautifully with no one to look at you, touching yourself in this empty room. Tell me that’s what you want.”

“That’s all I’ve ever had,” Finch said, his voice hoarse.

“But is it what you want?”

Finch swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “No…” he breathed, “but I can’t- I don’t- What do you want from me?”

“Who says I want anything?”

“Then this is just a game to you.”

“No, Harold, this is very serious,” Reese said, pressing another soft kiss to Finch’s lips. Finch pushed at him again and Reese raised his head. “Do you know why I can’t stop watching you, following you, trying to learn your secrets? It’s not because I don’t trust you. I trust you with my life. It’s because I want to be a part of your life. I want to guard your secrets and share your fantasies. I want you to trust me. I want you to love me.” He leaned down again, and this time, Finch didn’t resist his kiss. He didn’t respond, but he least he’d stopped fighting. After a moment, Reese drew back enough to whisper, “That’s what I want, Harold. What do you want?”

“I want you to get off of me,” Finch said through tight lips.

Reese sighed and climbed off the bed, unable to hide his disappointment as he turned to go.

“I didn’t say I wanted you to leave,” Finch said, his voice quiet, hesitant. He sat up and absently adjusted his stockings as Reese stepped back over to the bed and took a seat beside him. “My parents died when I was six,” Finch said after a moment. “I had no other family, so I went into the foster system, into a home with four other children. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it taught me self-reliance. Our foster father was strict, but he worked hard and we learned to stay out of his way. Then, one day when I was nine, he caught me wearing my elder foster sister’s underwear.”

He took a shuddering breath and Reese had to fight not to reach over and put his arm around him. “He called me horrible names and threw me down the basement steps, breaking my left arm in two places, cracking four ribs, and leaving me with a concussion. I woke up in the hospital. He told the doctor that I tripped down the stairs and I was afraid he’d tell them about the underwear, so I went along with it. Once I was released from the hospital, I was placed back in that family. He didn’t continue to abuse me, or even say anything – I think he was honestly sorry for hurting me – but he would look at me like there was something wrong with me. I couldn’t take it for long. As soon as my arm had healed, I ran away.

“I spent four months on the streets before the police picked me up and took me to children’s services, but I’d learned a thing or two during that time. I knew they’d send me back to that family if they knew who I was, so at the age of ten, I gave myself a new name, a new identity, a new history. I became someone else and I was suddenly free. I was placed with a new family and that time, I knew better than to- to dress up. It wasn’t until college that I felt safe enough to indulge, and even then, it was an infrequent occurrence. When I became rich, this was one of the first buildings I bought. Even now, I only rent the other units to the visually impaired, just in case.

“I used to come here a couple nights a week to relax and unwind – less when I was working on the Machine. And then I was injured and I started the List, and it seemed…wrong to do something so hedonistic when there were people out there who needed help. This is the first time I’ve been back in more than two years.”

“Oh, Harold,” Reese whispered, reaching over to put his hand on top of Finch’s, only to have the other man pull away.

“I’m not telling you this because I want your pity or your sympathy. I wanted you to understand why I can’t be what you want.” He started to get up, but Reese reached out again, grabbing his hand this time and refusing to let go.

“You are what I want,” Reese said. “I’m not asking you to change, just…give me a chance.” He leaned over, holding his breath as he waited for Finch to pull away, but Finch didn’t move. Hesitantly, he brushed his lips over Finch’s, feeling the smaller man tremble and draw a sharp breath.

Then Finch kissed him.

It wasn’t deep or long – little more than a softening of his lips and a slight nod of his head before he drew back, his face flushing as he looked away.

“John, I- I’ve never done this before with a- with a- a man.”

Reese groaned low in his throat and pressed his lips to the side of Finch’s neck, making him shiver. “I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, the thought of being Finch’s first, his only, almost enough to end the night early. He drew back, his cock aching as he rose to his feet and began to unbutton his shirt. Finch watched him, eyes wide and skin flushed as Reese let the shirt fall to the floor. He stripped off his socks, then unbuttoned his pants, giving his hips a wiggle to help gravity along. Finch swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to Reese’s well-defined erection as the hard shaft pressed against the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs, the leaking head leaving a dark spot on the material.

Reese took a step forward and Finch tensed. He looked trapped again. In a fluid movement that left his aging knees aching, Reese sank down, kneeling at Finch’s feet. His hands cupped Finch’s calf, strong fingers kneading the muscle as he eased Finch’s legs apart, placing his foot between Reese’s thighs, his toes nestled behind Reese’s balls. Reese ran his hands down Finch’s leg to his ankle, stroking the warm silk as he leaned down and kissed Finch’s thigh, his scrotum rubbing against the top of Finch’s foot. As he slid his hands back up Finch’s leg, he let his lips wander higher, too, mouthing the inside of Finch’s thigh through the stocking.

“Oh…oh…” Finch breathed, and Reese moaned against his leg as Finch’s foot squirmed against his crotch, making him shudder and struggle to keep from rubbing against him. His breathing ragged, Reese shifted closer, pressing his lips to the bulge beneath Finch’s nightgown, letting them part against the heat and hardness beneath. Making soft, helpless noises, Finch leaned back and Reese eased a hand under the edge of the gown, pushing it up out of his way.

Finch’s cock was straining against the burgundy silk, a dark, wet spot at the tip. Reese nuzzled along the length, making Finch shiver and moan, then dragged his tongue over the wet spot, savoring the dark, heady taste of Finch. He gave another slow lick, and then wrapped his lips around the wet silk, rolling it with his tongue.

“Oh! Oh, Reese- John, please- Not in my underwear!”

Reese raised his head, licking his lips and giving Finch a sultry look from under lowered lashes. “Okay, but remember, it was your idea, not mine.” He rose up on his knees, pressing his lips to Finch’s chest, searching beneath the nightgown for the taut nub of a nipple. Finch groaned, clutching at his shoulders as he licked and nibbled. Shifting to a crouch, he wrapped his arms around Finch, one hand sliding up his back to cradle his neck. Finch stiffened in his arms, his grip tightening as Reese carefully eased him down on the bed. Drawing back, Reese slid his hands down Finch’s body, stopping at his hips and working his hands up under the gown. Finch made a breathless noise as Reese hooked his fingers into the waistband of the silk shorts and began to slide them off.

Freed, Finch’s stiff cock jutted up, trembling with each shaking breath Finch took, the tip beaded with pre-come. Careful not to get hung up on the lace garters, Reese removed the shorts and raised them to his face, taking a deep breath of Finch’s musky scent. He tossed them down and bowed his head, kissing the tip of Finch’s cock and making him gasp.

“Tell me if this hurts,” Reese said, picking up Finch’s good leg and resting his ankle on Reese’s shoulder, his knee bent. “How’s that?”

“Immodest,” Finch said, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his gown, “but not painful. What…what are you going to do to me?”

“You’ll see,” Reese said deviously. “Now, how does this feel?” He slowly raised Finch’s other leg, only going so high as to hook his knee over Reese’s arm.

“O- okay,” Finch said. “What-” His words dissolved into a long moan as Reese took his cock into his mouth, sliding up and down the length a few times before pulling off. He licked the crown and down the shaft, mouthing Finch’s balls and tonguing the soft skin behind them. Finch lay panting, his good leg shifting restlessly on Reese’s shoulder as Reese cupped one ass cheek in his hand. Finch tensed, his muscles clenching as Reese spread him open, exposing his dark entrance. Fresh from his bath, he smelled like lavender and soap, and Reese leaned in without hesitation, dragging his tongue across the tight ring of muscle.

“O-oh!” Finch gasped, his voice going up an octave as Reese ran his tongue in slow circles around the opening. He licked and prodded, teasing, testing, driving Finch to the brink. He panted and moaned, a quivering, writhing puddle of bliss, his hands gripping his nightgown as his cock leaked pre-come onto his soft belly. Reese knew he was close, and he pressed his face more firmly between Finch’s cheeks, easing his tongue inside, the muscle twitching as he stretched it open. Thrusting in and out of Finch’s trembling body, he fucked him with his tongue, one hand rising up to stroke his hard cock.

With a breathless shout, Finch spilled himself across his stomach, his hips rocking, muscles tensing as he emptied himself with one satisfying shudder after another. When he was finished, Reese drew back, setting Finch’s feet on the floor again before standing. Staring down at Finch, breathless and sweaty, his stomach striped with thick strings of come, Reese hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer-brief and slowly pushed them down. Finch was oblivious at first, lying there with a dazed expression on his face, but as Reese stepped out of his underwear, Finch suddenly seemed to remember that he was there. He tried to sit up, but froze at the sight of Reese, his eyes wide as he stared at Reese’s aching cock.

“That’s…quite im- impressive, Mr. Reese,” he said. He nervously licked his lips. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Where do you keep the lubricant?”

Finch swallowed hard. “I- I don’t have any lubricant.”

“Really?” Reese gave him a sideways look. “Because I’m very good at finding things.”

“No, really. I told you, I’ve never done this before.”

“Not even by yourself? You don’t have any toys hidden around here, dildos and vibrators and butt plugs? Haven’t you even fingered yourself?”

“No, Mr. Reese,” Finch said, his face scarlet.

Reese grinned. “Well, at least now I know what to get you for Christmas.” Finch gave him a horrified look and he laughed. “Relax, Harold, I’m only joking.” There was no way he’d wait until Christmas. “Do you have any lotion?”

“On the vanity. Why?”

Reese stepped over to the vanity, taking a moment to look at himself in the mirror before hunting through the bottles and jars for the lotion. “Next time you’re alone in the library, Google masturbation techniques. You’ll find that lotion is frequently recommended.”

“So you’re going to masturbate?” Finch asked, looking relieved until something occurred to him. “Or do you want me to- to touch you?”

“That’s sweet of you to offer, Harold, but I have something else in mind.” He grabbed a handful of tissues out of the box on the vanity and handed them to Finch. “You might want to clean yourself up.”

Finch looked down at himself, his face flushing again, and he hastily wiped the semen off his skin. Reese climbed onto the bed, moving behind him, and Finch watched him in the mirror like a bird watching a cat. A fitting metaphor, he thought with a smirk. His amusement did little to put Finch at ease. He shifted and acted like he was preparing to get up. Reese put a hand on his shoulder, feeling the rigid muscles beneath, and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I think you’ll enjoy this, but if I’m wrong, you can ask me to stop. I will.” His reassurance seemed to help a little. Finch allowed himself to be coaxed back down onto the bed, lying on his good side with both pillows supporting his neck, facing the vanity and the large mirror that was a part of it. Reese watched his own reflection as he stroked himself. So that’s why they called it a vanity.

Stretching out behind Finch, Reese opened the bottle of lotion and squeezed a dollop out onto his fingers, the delicate scent of jasmine rising into the air. He reached down, sliding his hand between Finch’s thighs, careful not to get the lotion on Finch’s stockings or garters as he rubbed it over Finch’s skin, twisting his fingers to stroke Finch’s scrotum and perineum before pulling his hand out. He wiped the excess lotion on his cock, then eased closer, pressing his cockhead into the heat between Finch’s thighs.

“What is- Is that- Oh…” Finch breathed as Reese rocked his hips forward, sliding along the juncture of his legs, rubbing against the back side of his balls, the top edge of the garters brushing his shaft as he withdrew. Reese moaned as he began a slow, easy rhythm, wrapping his arm over Finch’s side to give himself a bit more leverage. He looked over Finch’s shoulder, watching their reflection in the mirror, Finch’s hands clutching at the blankets, his skin flushed, lips parted.

Reese leaned down, pressing his lips to Finch’s neck. “So, is this all right, or do you want me to stop?”

“It’s- It’s all right,” Finch whispered. Reese smiled against his skin, his hand sliding down Finch’s stomach to pull at his cock, making him shudder and moan. “Don’t get your hopes up – I haven’t come twice in one night in years.”

“Mmmm, I love a challenge,” Reese purred, nuzzling the back of Finch’s neck.

“Do you?” Finch panted. “I mean, do you…love me? Or am I just easy?”

Reese stopped, stilling himself with his cock pressed tightly between Finch’s thighs. “Harold,” he said gently, “you have been anything but easy. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for months, ever since that woman took you and I realized how much I you meant to me.”

“But do you love me?”

Reese hesitated. “Yes, I- I think I might.” He felt Finch draw a deep breath and sigh. “Is there some reason that I shouldn’t?”

“No, I just…I don’t want to hurt you, John, but I don’t know if I can love you in return. I’m feeling very confused right now. I know that I like you and I appreciate all that you do. I worry about you when you’re in danger and I miss you when there are no Numbers and we haven’t talked in a few days. But love? I- I don’t know.”

Reese pressed a soft kiss behind Finch’s ear and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, his hands smoothing the silk gown as he held him. “That’s more than I ever imagined you felt for me. I was more than happy for this to be a one-sided thing, and if you never wanted to be with me like this again, I was ready for that, and if all you wanted was to use me sexually, I was okay with that, too. And I am sorry for forcing you into this, but I just couldn’t control myself any more. You make me crazy, Harold.”

“So, whatever I want, that will be enough for you?”

“I don’t know about enough,” Reese said, nuzzling Finch’s neck again, “but I will try to respect your wishes. Of course, I can’t promise not to buy you something pretty and follow you home late one lonely night to have my way with you.” He began to rock his hips again, thrusting between those hot, slippery thighs and making Finch shiver.

“Well, I- I suppose I could live with that,” Finch said, breathless as Reese began to stroke his cock. He was getting hard again despite his earlier doubts. “Just don’t expect me to be aggressive or come on to you; I’ve never been good at that sort of human interaction.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it easy on you,” Reese said, his words strained as the pleasure inside him built, tightening like a wire about to snap. “If you want me, send me a text and tell me if you want to meet at my place or yours. No human interaction required.” His movements grew quick and erratic, his breathing heavy on the back of Finch’s neck, his grip on Finch’s cock tightening, his strokes meaning business. Finch panted and groaned, his hips rocking with the rhythm of Reese’s hand.

“Oh…oh, fuck, Harold- I’m close.” Just a little more…a little more…

Finch drew a sudden breath, his thighs pressing together as he stiffened, a strangled cry escaping him as he came, his fluids slicking Reese’s hand. Wrapping his arm more securely around Finch’s waist, Reese let go and pounded into him, clenched thighs gripping him so tightly that he saw stars as he exploded between them. Gasping, he slowed his frenetic pace, pushing deep and holding himself there with every shuddering aftershock of pleasure. When he finally grew still, he lay panting, holding Finch in his arms, then he slowly raised his head, looking into the mirror. Finch lay quietly with his eyes closed, his clenched hands gradually relaxing, his breathing slowing, the small lines on his face melting away, leaving him looking younger, at peace. If Reese did nothing else right in his life, he was proud to have given Finch this moment.

It couldn’t last, though, and eventually Finch opened his eyes, a small frown creasing his brow. He glanced at Reese in the mirror but quickly looked away. “I realize many things were said in the heat of the moment,” he said, pulling away and sitting up, his nightgown gathered up in one hand to keep it from getting into the semen on his belly and thighs. “I won’t hold you to any of them.”

Reese resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s good,” he said instead, “because I’d much rather hold you to me.” He wrapped his arm around Finch and drew the smaller man back against his chest, his lips playing over the faded scar on the back of his neck as he murmured, “I meant every word of what I said, Harold. I love you and it is enough for me if you’re just willing to see where this takes us.”

Finch swallowed hard before removing Reese’s arm from around his waist. “I think, Mr. Reese,” he said as he stood up, making a face at the wet smears they’d left on the comforter, “that the only place this is going to take us right now, is to the bathroom.” He shoved down his garters and stocking to keep the come from running down onto them as he limped toward the adjacent room. In the doorway, he paused and glanced back. “I believe the tub is big enough for two.” With a grin, Reese leaped up and hurried after him.