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Be Careful What You Wish For – Ch. 8

While I wait for Reese, I do a bit of digital housekeeping, finding and erasing the surveillance footage from the bank and bodega across the street from the Laundromat, as well as all the cameras inside the hotel. Turns out the hit man did me a favor, disabling the cameras in the elevator and on the seventh floor before he tried to kill us. I also hack into the Children and Family Services database and alter their records so they aren’t completely confused when Elizabeth Whitaker shows up to sign papers they know nothing about. I’m sure it’s going to lead to a hassle and an inquiry into the department, but since Arthur Bellenger can’t be traced back to me and a clerical error is no reason to take Theresa from her aunt, I don’t really care.

Sitting in front of my monitors, I find myself rubbing my arm just below the shoulder. It’s a surreal and confusing feeling. I remember getting shot, the impact, the pain, the blood, but that’s all I have – a memory.

“Does it still hurt?”

I start at the voice behind me and swivel my chair around to face Reese. “No, it’s fine,” I say, letting my hand fall to my lap. “How is Theresa?”

“She and her aunt were still hugging and crying on the porch when I left,” he says. “I think she’ll be fine. She also asked me to thank you again. You saved her life.”

We saved her life,” I correct him, “and you saved mine. And now there’s something I’d like to take care of.”

He shakes his head. “We can discuss payment later-”

“I wish that your injuries were healed,” I say.

He stares at me for a moment. “Are you sure that’s what you want? You don’t have to feel guilty or grateful or anything, just let me serve you and I will be happy.”

“I’m sure,” I say.

He reaches down and pulls off the bloody handkerchief, the cut on his hand vanished just like my bullet wound. “Thank you, Master. Here, let me clean this-” He makes a motion toward the handkerchief.

“No, that’s all right,” I say, stopping him. “I have dozens more, and I don’t want you to be susceptible to injury over unimportant things.” Reese glances around, then throws the dirty cloth into the trash. “And as long as we’re both here, I would like to discuss payment. More to the point, I’d like to negotiate.”

“All right,” he says, his tone wary. “I’m listening.”

I take a bracing breath, ready for an argument. “I’d like to take intercourse off the table.”

“You want to have sex on the table?” he says, arching an eyebrow. “It might be a bit uncomfortable, but I’m game.”

Mr. Reese,” I say, not amused in the slightest by his quick and cheeky smirk.

“There are several definitions of the word intercourse. Can you be more specific?”

I grit my teeth. “I don’t want your dick in my ass. Is that specific enough for you?”

“That’ll do. And I’ll agree to your conditions, but I want to reserve the right to renegotiate at a later time.”

I hesitate. He should not have agreed so easily. But I can’t see how he’ll be able to trick me, not if he intends to honor his agreement. I was very specific. “All right,” I say finally. “Do I need to settle up before you’ll grant any more wishes?”

“No, but a sizeable payment would be appreciated,” he says, walking toward me. I draw a sharp breath and rise to my feet. I can’t run, I can’t fight, I can’t stop him. I hate this. He stops just in front of me. “Why do I frighten you?” he asks softly, his hand rising up to touch my cheek, his fingertips warm. “I exist only to serve. All I want to do is please you. I could never hurt you.”

He frightens me because I don’t know if I can trust him, but that’s beside the point. I don’t want to be had like this, I don’t want to cheapen these experiences. It’s not like I’m saving myself for true love – I’m not naive – but that doesn’t mean I want to whore myself to the first genie that comes along. “I just wish you’d accept something else as payment,” I say with a sigh.

He kisses me, warm lips on mine, his hands touching my chest, slipping beneath my jacket. I don’t have the strength or the will to resist him. I’m only human, after all, and what he’s doing isn’t fair. His arms wrap around me, hands sliding up and down my back, and he draws me up against him. I can feel the hardness of him through his trousers, and damn it if I’m not starting to react the same way. My body feels electric, his every touch making my skin tingle.

When he pulls away, I’m out of breath. “Come with me,” he says, a flash of lightning deep in his eyes. “I have a surprise for you.” Equal parts curious, nervous, and aroused, I follow him down one of the disused corridors. He stops outside an empty room, his hand resting on the doorknob. He gives me a small, crooked smile and opens the door, the warm glow of candlelight spilling out into the shadowy hall. Soft music plays, a classical piece, quite lovely, but not something I recognize. I step inside, my attention drawn instantly by the very large bed in the center of the room. It makes it hard to take notice of anything else, but after a moment I see the candles burning in crystal sconces on the walls, on shelves and tables on either side of the bed. I don’t see where the music is coming from; the sound simply surrounds me without seeming to have a source.

I turn to Reese. “What is all this?”

“It’s for you,” he says, stepping close again, his hands finding my hips. “I thought…I thought if I could make you comfortable, you might enjoy being with me, you might actually want it.”

Genies really are simple creatures. “How can I want it when I don’t have a choice?”

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then stops. He leans down, pressing his lips to mine, such a tender kiss that it makes my chest ache. If I had the choice, I would choose him. “If you want it, do you need a choice? I want to serve you, so it doesn’t matter that I don’t have a choice. I would want it either way.”

“And that’s how humans and genies are different,” I tell him. “I do appreciate…this-” I gesture to the room. “But it can’t change how I feel.”

He looks conflicted as he begins unbuttoning my waistcoat. “I don’t want to displease you, Master Finch, but I want you so much. My body aches for you.” He takes my hand and guides it to his crotch, pressing my palm against his hard length. I feel my face grow hot as I pull my hand back. “Please; I can be the best you’ve ever had.”

“That’s not setting the bar very high,” I say dryly as I try to compose myself. “Fine. I will pay. Are you going to try to collect for everything right now? Because I’m not immortal, I’m an old man, and I can’t-”

“You’re not old,” he whispers, his lips brushing my cheek as he works my jacket off my shoulders and tosses it to the foot of the bed. The waistcoat quickly joins it, followed by the tie. “I won’t take any more than you want to give. If you want me to stop, just say so. I don’t want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable in any way.”

Too late for that. I just give a faint nod and toe off my shoes, swallowing hard as he goes down on his knees before me. I don’t think this is such a good idea. I remember how it felt to have my cock in his mouth, in his throat, and if he starts sucking on me while I’m standing up, I’ll end up falling down. But he doesn’t. He peels my socks off, his hands warm against my bare feet. As he stands back up, his hands find my belt, unbuckling it in one smooth, easy motion. The button and zipper are next, then he moves up to my shirt, letting gravity take care of the pants. I shiver as they slide down my legs.

As my shirt winds up on the bed, I’m suddenly standing before him in just my white undershirt and black boxers. Not counting showering after gym class and visits to the doctor, this is the most naked I’ve ever been in front of another man, and as he reaches for my shirt, his fingers working beneath the thin material, I can’t help but tense. I’m not ready for this.

He stops, hesitating for a moment before leaning in and kissing me, his hands wandering up my sides on top of the shirt. His tongue glides along the valley of my lips, seeking entrance, and with a low groan I open myself to him, his slow, tender explorations making me dizzy and I grab fistfuls of his jacket to steady myself.

Breaking the kiss, he draws back. “I’m suddenly feeling a bit overdressed,” he says and his eyes flicker again. I watch as his clothes seem to melt, a thin layer of smoke clinging to his skin before condensing into a pair of dark blue, tailored silk pajamas, and I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Do you want me to go slower?”

“No, this is fine,” I tell him, swallowing hard as he backs me toward the bed. I keep fluctuating between getting on with this, getting it over with, and getting the hell out of here, but going slower never crosses my mind. I feel the side of the mattress against the backs of my legs and I stiffen, unable to retreat any farther. I sink down onto the bed, scooting toward the middle, and he climbs on beside me, his hand on my shoulder gently laying me back.

“Try to relax,” he says and I take a deep breath, but it catches in my throat as he swings his leg over mine and places his hands on either side of my shoulders, looming over me on his hands and knees. What is he doing; what does he want? Does he want me to touch him? I lick dry lips and swallow hard, my hand shaking as I reach toward his crotch, my fingers brushing against the bulge in his pajamas. He groans and closes his eyes, a mix of need and surrender painted across his face. He looks very vulnerable, to be honest.

I gather my courage and press my palm against his hardness, slowly rubbing up and down the length of the shaft. He pants, his whole body trembling, and his eyes open, pupils dilated, his blue eyes dark as he looks down at me.

“Thank you, Master,” he whispers, and before I can correct him, his mouth covers mine, distracting me with soft, gentle kisses. I don’t even realize that he’s lowering his body on top of mine until I feel his weight, his warmth, his erection against me. I gasp into his mouth, my hands pressing against his chest as he shifts from his hands to his forearms, covering me completely, his legs resting along the outsides of mine. I’m trapped beneath him.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs, placing another light, chaste kiss on my lips. “I won’t hurt you.” He kisses my cheek, then my jaw. “Trust me, please. Just a little.” He nuzzles back to the curve of my jawbone, then kisses my neck just beneath my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine and making my heart race. I want this.

Without thinking, I try to turn my head, to grant him easier access to my neck, but the pins remind me in no uncertain terms that I can’t do that anymore. I close my eyes until the pain fades, my hands balled into fists against Reese’s chest, and when I can finally breathe normally again, I realize that Reese has stopped what he was doing and is waiting, just watching me.

“I’m fine,” I say, my tone gruff as I feel the heat in my face. I refuse to look at him. I don’t want pity. After a moment, he shifts his weight and for an instant, I think he’s getting up, that he decided he doesn’t want to deal with a cripple, but he just leans on his right arm and slides the left beneath my shoulders, his hand cradling the back of my neck. His thumb and middle finger begin to move in slow circles, massaging the muscles on either side of my scar and I tense, expecting it to hurt, but it doesn’t. “What are you doing?”

Not healing you,” he says, “although I don’t understand why you don’t want me to. You wouldn’t even have to wish, just say yes…” I don’t respond. He wouldn’t understand, but this is something I have to live with. After a minute, he sighs. “All right, I’ll stop asking, but if you ever change your mind…” His hand continues its gentle ministrations as his lips resume their slow exploration of my neck, soft kisses that make my pulse jump each time I feel his warm skin against mine. I just wish I could trust him.

His breath slides beneath the collar of my undershirt, his stubble scratching against my throat as he nuzzles beneath the fabric, pressing a kiss into the crook of my neck. I gasp at my body’s reaction, my skin aching for his touch. Suddenly, I want these clothes off. I slide my hands between us, pulling at the hem of my shirt, trying to work it up, and he raises his head.

“Allow me, Master,” he says and I hesitate, confused as he grabs the shoulder of the shirt and pulls. I feel a cool, whispery feeling slide over my skin, and my eyes widen as the shirt dissolves into smoke, only to rematerialize in one piece, dangling from his hand. He lets it fall to the floor and lowers his lips to my bare shoulder, kissing, licking, and sucking his way across my body, following the ridge of my clavicle to the hollow at the base of my throat.

I lie there, staring up at the ceiling bathed in candlelight, feeling…conflicted. On one hand, what he’s doing is amazing. No one has ever made me feel this way, but on the other hand, this is tantamount to prostitution. I should be ashamed, disgusted with myself. And on another hand, which is more hands than I have, he is an inhuman creature, a spirit, a genie. Am I even safe with him? I groan low in my throat, my eyes sliding closed as he starts along the other side of my collarbone, and I slide my hands up his neck and into his hair, burying my fingers in the thick strands. I think he likes it because he begins to suck harder, hard enough to make my skin tingle, and I realize with a start that he just gave me a hickey.

“Mr. Reese?” I say, my voice hoarse.

He raises his head. “John,” he says softly, and kisses the side of my throat. “Please, call me John.” He kisses the base of my jaw and I struggle to remain still, the urge to tilt my head back strong. He finds my lips again and I moan as his tongue slides in and out of my mouth, an act I should have found lewd and revolting, but I thrust my tongue against his, taking quick, fevered gasps between deep, wet kisses. My fingers comb through his hair, one hand sliding down the back of his neck, dipping beneath the collar of his pajamas, just wanting to touch him.

His hand roves over my naked chest, warm and sensual, and I groan into his mouth, but when his fingers slide to the side, down over my ribs and the scattered scars, I can’t help but tense, expecting him to pull away. Which he does. He raises his head, looking down at me, his hand still resting against my side.

“What is it?” he asks. “Does that hurt?”

“No,” I say, feeling foolish for not being able to better master my own insecurities. He regards me for a moment, shifting his weight as he glances down my side. Reflexively, I draw my arm against my side, trying to hide the scars.

“Oh,” he says softly, returning his gaze back to my face. “You’re worried that if I see your injuries, I won’t be attracted to you anymore.”

He’s right, and the truth hurts, but I try not to let on. “I don’t need you to lie to spare my feelings,” I say dryly. “I know attraction has nothing to do with this.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Are you telling me you’ve been attracted to every person who’s rubbed your lamp?”

He frowns. “No. Why- Oh…you think I do this with all my masters.”

I hesitate. “Don’t you?”

His expression softens. “No. If I wasn’t attracted to you, we’d be doing this in the dark and we’d be done already. I wouldn’t kiss you, I wouldn’t touch you, I’d just take payment and go back to my lamp. Trust me, I’ve done it quite often. But this…I might do this once or twice in a millennia, only when I find someone truly special.”

I know I shouldn’t believe him, but as he kisses me again, sweet and soft, I close my eyes and surrender…as much as I can, anyway. I will let myself believe him until I have reason not to. I groan as his hand slides down my side, over the small scars, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my boxers to stroke my hip, seeking out the large, gnarled ridge of scar tissue that runs down the outside of my thigh.

“This doesn’t matter to me,” he whispers between kisses, “and while I do find you pleasing to look at and to touch, it is your heart and your mind that attracts me the most. You are brilliant and kind and generous and brave, and I find it easy to love you.”

I falter again. He must mean that euphemistically, that he finds it easy to be intimate sexually. Because he can’t possibly…I mean, he doesn’t know anything about me. He can’t-

That cool, whispery feeing slides over my skin again and when I glance over, my boxer shorts are dangling from Reese’s hand. He drops them and I swallow hard, my heart racing as I realize that I’m now completely naked, lying beneath him, our bodies separated only by his silk pajamas. I look up at him and he kisses me again, beginning to move on top of me, the cool silk sliding over my bare skin and making me shiver deliciously. He rolls his hips from side to side, slow and sensual, his hard cock rubbing against mine through the thin material, and I groan into his mouth, my eyes sliding closed as I rake my fingers through his hair.

He slides his arms beneath me, holding me against his chest, and I no longer feel trapped, I feel safe, protected. I feel good. The weight of him, the warmth, the smell, the sounds – I had no idea being with someone could feel like this. My experiences with women were all awkward and fumbling, obligatory fucks to keep people from thinking I was queer, which, back in the seventies meant being hassled, ostracized, spit on, beat up, or worse. Now here I am, naked and sweaty beneath one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen, my body responding of its own volition, my hips rising to meet his languid movements, a slow rutting that makes me ache deep inside.

I slide my hands down the back of his neck, grabbing his pajama shirt in both fists, pulling at it, pulling at him, wanting him closer, wanting more. Suddenly, it feels like I’m grasping handfuls of sand, the tiny grains slipping through my fingers, leaving me empty-handed. I open my eyes, watching as his pajama shirt dissolves into smoke, slowly trickling away. I can feel the same whispery sensation against my legs and I freeze, my body trembling as the touch of cool silk is replaced by hot skin, Reese’s naked body covering mine.

He stops kissing me and raises his head, watching me with careful, worried eyes, like he’s afraid I’ll make him stop. As the last of the silk and smoke dissipates, I feel his hard cock press against mine, and for a long moment I just lay there, trying to make sense of the way my body is reacting, the shuddering deep inside me, the ache in my skin, the almost uncontrollable desire to rut against him. I’ve never felt like this before.

“Is this all right?” Reese asks.

“Yes, Mr.- Yes, John,” I say, sliding my arms around him. He smiles and presses his lips to mine, my hands grabbing at his shoulders as he begins to rock his hips again, driving all coherent thought from my mind. There is only his cock and mine, heat and friction, sweat and slick and breath and skin. I dig my heels into the bed, lifting my hips to grind against him and he moans into my mouth. He breaks the kiss, making soft, helpless noises in my ear as I slide my fingers up into his hair again.

I lose the ability to process the passage of time, the universe shrinking down to him and me caught in a single moment that stretches into forever. There is nothing else. I shudder and gasp, clutching at him as the orgasm rolls through me like a wave of light and sound, my body suddenly weightless, my pain gone. And then it’s too much, his body too heavy, the friction against my cock too intense, almost painful.

“Stop, please,” I whimper, but I know he won’t. He hasn’t come yet, his body tense, his movements urgent, desperate, and I’m trapped beneath him, trapped, helpless-

He stops. I can feel him shaking as he raises his head, his skin flushed and sweaty, his pupils blown as he looks down at me. He doesn’t look angry. “Are you all right?” he asks. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. It’s just…too much…” It’s a flimsy excuse and some part of me expects him to say as much, but he just smiles softly and leans close, kissing me again, deep, wet, and slow. Then he rolls off of me, stretching out on his back beside me, and I feel my face color as I stare at him, lean and tanned, his skin damp with sweat and his belly smeared with something thicker and slicker, his cock dark and stiff and proud. I glance down at myself, pale and pudgy around the middle, come smeared across my skin. “I should go wash,” I mutter, starting to get up.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. “I want to look at you,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow beside me and wrapping his hand around his cock. His gaze roves over my naked body as he strokes himself, his eyes dark and hungry. He’s looking at me like that. I want to do something for him.

“May I?” I ask, reaching my hand toward him. He stops, need and desire etched into his face.

“You don’t have to,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“I know,” I reply. “I want to.” His skin is hot and slick as I wrap my fingers around him and he moans, his face and neck flushing even before I begin to move my hand. He pants, his body trembling, his gaze never leaving my face as he cries out, his hips lifting off the bed as he comes, thick drops of semen landing on my forearm and stomach. I lay there for a moment, just staring at him, trying to commit this moment to my long-term memory, to make sure I never forget.

Then I remember the bodily fluids on my skin and I need to go shower. I climb out of bed and start picking up my clothes, acutely self-conscious of him watching me.

“Please,” he says quietly, his voice low. “Don’t leave yet.”

“I need to clean up,” I say, not looking at him.

“Let me.”

“No, don’t-” I say, but I shiver as a thin layer of cool, blue smoke slides over my bare skin. When it dissipates, the semen is gone. I turn to face him. “You have to stop doing that.”

“But I want to. I like being useful again.”

“But it’s frivolous,” I say. “It’s a waste of your magic and it puts you in danger. Walking down the hall to the bathroom and taking a shower isn’t that difficult or inconvenient.”

“I wanted you to stay.”

“I would have come back.”

“Would you have?” He gives me a knowingly look and I have to reconsider my words.

“Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have,” I admit, looking down at the garments in my hands, the urge to get dressed and get out of there growing stronger. “I’m not- I don’t have much experience with this sort of situation. I’m afraid I’m sadly lacking in people skills.”

“Good thing I’m not people, then,” Reese says with a chuckle. He pats the bed. “Come here. Please.”

I hesitate, then limp over and gingerly sit down on the edge of the mattress. His warm hands rise up to touch my back, my shoulders, coaxing me to lie back down beside him. I’m stiff, rigid, uncomfortable as he wraps his arms around me, fitting his naked body against mine like a matching puzzle piece. It feels really good in an unexpected way. I feel safe, protected, wrapped in his strong arms, and for once, just for a few minutes, I allow myself to relax.

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  1. Mamahub permalink

    Gorgeous and hot and sweet and sexy and sensual and delicious and…..sigh. Thank you so much for this beautiful chapter!

  2. Where do you get these wonderfully unique story ideas? Your writing is pro level and I can’t wait for the next chapter!! Hope it is a lonnng story.

    • I’m a fantasy writer by nature, so I’m always getting these weird ideas, lol. Thank you so much for the wonderful compliment! I think it will be a long story, assuming I can find time to work on it, lol. I know better than to juggle three or four stories at once, I really do, but I can’t seem to help myself! XD

  3. Karen Green permalink

    Love that Finch is loosening up just a bit. Great chapter!

    • Just a bit, lol. But with him it’s one step forward and two steps back. ^_^
      Thanks for the comment!

  4. SeenaC permalink

    I love this story soooo much. And, I don’t usually like AUs, but your premise really works for me on this one.
    This chapter was delicious! Can’t wait for more….

    • Thank you! That is a wonderful compliment indeed. ^_^
      I’m glad you enjoyed it!

      • SeenaC permalink

        Hate to be a pest, but, as a fan of all your works….any chance that “Empathy” will continue?
        I really love that one as well! πŸ™‚

      • I’m having a bit of writer’s block when it comes to “Empathy”, plus I’m just so busy with the other stories, but I do hope to continue that one, maybe when I finish “Damaged”.

  5. T'LIRA permalink


  6. managerie76 permalink


  7. Drayce permalink

    I never read WIPs… except when I do, apparently. πŸ˜€

    POI is unfortunately short on writers in general and good ones in particular and as I found myself at a loose end I thought I would break down and read one of your WIPs. I’m glad I did.

    I really like your idea here and the skilful way you’re handling it. I don’t usually care for fantasy AU much but you couch it in such believable terms that it really works.

    I look forward to more.

    Thank you.


  8. SecondAttempt permalink

    Uh, yea…your crack bunny, Sebastian?

    Tell him I’m officially in love with him. If he can inspire you to make a story such as this, he deserves all the love he can get.

    Please update as soon as life lets you, I would absolutely love to read what happens next!

    Thanks for posting this story on here.


  9. Wow. That was good. I know it’s not the end of the story, but it certainly was satisfying! I just love how tender and gentle Reese is with him, and how lovingly he looks at him… *happy sigh* ^_^

    Fave line: “doesn’t mean I want to whore myself to the first genie that comes along” Heeheehee!!

    Okay, I do have to point out that in 2 places in this chapter, you used “lay” when it should be “lie”. It’s so common a mistake that it’s probably a moot point already… but unless Harold is “laying” something, he is “lying” down.

    Also, this is just stylistic, but if you go through and highlight all of the “sliding” verbs, I think you’ll see that there were quite a few of them in this chapter. It’s hard to find a substitute when a particular word fits perfectly, but it’s something to think about. Eyes “sliding closed” was used twice, too.

    I am totally with you about starting multiple stories… but when you get stymied with one, sometimes it’s better to work on something else. I’m so glad I read this! Wonderful mental images… πŸ™‚

    Now, back to work… ughh… ;p

    • Thank you! ^_^

      I hate lay/lie! I can never figure out which to use. Thanks for the tip; hopefully I can remember it and stop using the wrong one!

      Yes, I’ve noticed that I’m using ‘sliding’ verbs a lot. Usually, I try to vary my word choice, but it took a long time to write this chapter, and when that happens, I tend to forget that I’ve already used a certain word/phrase before. When I start working on it again, I’ll go back and do some editing, but right now I’m just so busy! I’ve got Damaged, Empathy (on hiatus), Be Careful… (on hiatus), Silk Stockings sequels, my Big Bang Challenge fic (POI/Fringe crossover (sort of)), an untitled Finch/Ingram college fic, that Lord Finch fantasy AU fic, and half a dozen others that I’m sure I’m forgetting, lol. I wish my plotbunnies were a little less prolific and a bit more dedicated. ^_^

      • Anonymous permalink

        I know, I’ve got more WIP than I have back burners… :{
        But whatever you write, I know I’ll love it!! πŸ˜‰

  10. Chase Evlyn-Smith permalink

    I’m a fantasy writer by nature… S0 I’m glad t0 see y0u writing P0I like this… N0w I d0n’t feel s0 bad ab0ut making Finch 0r Reese int0 a vampire 0r a shapeshiter… Thanks f0r the inspirati0n!! I really h0pe y0u’ll c0ntinue this… I L-0-V-E it!! XD

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