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Reese got to his feet languidly, unhurriedly. The one number that had come up had been easily handled with a phone call to their friendly detectives. Reese hadn't even needed to leave the loft. Instead he'd stayed around, going over his weapons cache and playing with Bear. Harold watched him surreptitiously as he did so. The dog brought out a playful side in Reese, one that was seen all too rarely. As was the smile he wore as he wrestled with the Malinois. Harold basked in the genuine happiness it exuded even as he found himself harboring a slight jealousy towards Bear. He wanted to make Reese smile like that.
His thoughts were interrupted by Reese, who was casually leaning into his personal space. One of his large hands were resting on Harold's shoulder. Harold forced himself to not lean into the touch. That wasn't how they worked. He let Reese keep with his casual touching, not acknowledging them. It was an important part of how he distanced himself. How he kept them professional even though they occasionally shared intimacy of the physical kind. There were times when he might have let that line blur a bit too much, he had to admit. But in the heat of the moment it was easy to get carried away, to slip up. He tried to keep himself in check; it was getting increasingly difficult.
”Doing anything interesting, Harold?” Reese's breath was hot against his ear. Harold was all too aware that Reese knew exactly what he was doing, trying to get a rise out of him. He gave a minute shrug.
”I'm just running a few diagnostics on an upgrade. Nothing particularly exciting, I'm afraid.” His asset's voice was soft in his ear.
”Then you won't mind if I take off early? I thought I'd take Bear, bring him for a run. He might need the exercise.”
”Of course. Will you keep him for the night?” Reese gave a nod.
”If it's okay with you.” Harold gave a nod of his own, eyes back on the screen. Reese gave a sharp bark of ”hier” and with that they were gone. Harold followed them on his screen as they left, toggling between camera views. The diagnostics handled themselves; he had nothing else to occupy his time. He watched Reese, the easy confidence he moved with. The man was both poetry and violence in motion. Harold was sincerely glad to have him on his side; John Reese made a formidable enemy. Maybe that was part of why he'd connected so easily to Reese. The man's single-mindedness, ruthless practicality and untiring determination made him reminiscent of a machine. Harold was good with machines.
He was a lot worse when it came to humans. Somehow he'd begun to learn to interact with people through Reese. Because the man wasn't a machine. Those mechanical traits were balanced by compassion, diligence, honor and humor. And pain. Reese had tried so hard to hide it, but Harold had spotted it instantly. It called out to him; the mark of a kindred spirit. In many ways they were so alike. It fascinated him, drew him in. He knew so much about Reese, yet there was so much still to learn. He was still struggling to crack the code.
He knew more now than a couple of months ago. He knew what Reese looked like looming over him naked, he knew how he looked kneeling in front of Harold. He knew how he looked straddled over him, leisurely riding him to completion. It had started with an adrenaline-rushed kiss and moved on from there. Harold hadn't intended to initiate it, hadn't ever intended to give in to that particular desire. But Reese had let him kiss him, accepting it with the same ease he handled so much. Harold had suspected Reese let himself be used as just another part of the job. But then there had been times when he'd begged Harold, pleaded with him to be taken, and Harold had given him what he needed. He'd come to think of it as scratching their mutual itches. He was careful to keep it on a purely physical level, and even then there were boundaries he tried to keep. After that initial kiss they hadn't repeated it; Harold didn't allow it. Strangely enough a kiss was somehow more intimate, more emotional, than the actual sexual act. He didn't trust himself with emotions around Reese. The other man was his employee, his asset and his friend, but if he was completely honest with himself he wanted more than that. Occasionally he harbored dreams that Reese wanted the same, that his flirting and banter might be the prelude to something more, something deeper. But the asset never followed through, and Harold stayed within the limits Reese had set. Disregarding those limits would cost him too dearly. He'd rather have Reese as a friend and occasional bed mate than not at all. He was used to taking what scraps he could get.
He watched as Reese got home, went in and back out. Bear was straining at his leash, panting eagerly as they set off. He kept an absent eye on them as he started the second string on diagnostics, wondering not for the first time how he'd ended up here. Love had always been a mystery to him. He'd never imagined finding a woman he'd want to share everything with. He'd gotten close to that with Grace. He loved her, and giving her up had cut him deeply. He'd isolated himself; he didn't even bother looking for another woman in his life. It was just another complication, a distraction. He'd thrown himself into finding his asset, followed by throwing himself into work with Reese. He'd been surprised to find himself attracted to Reese, he'd never even considered being with another man before. But he took it in stride, or with a limp anyway, and tried to sublimate that attraction. Maybe that hadn't worked out all too well, he reflected with a wry smile. Instead here he was, trying to pretend he didn't love John Reese. The man he could share everything with, or close to everything. But he'd never force that on Reese. That was his little secret. In the meantime there were those scraps.
The sun was setting outside as he watched Reese return to the loft with Bear. They stepped inside and tussled once more. Harold gave a smile and looked around the library. Suddenly it was too empty. He was feeling lonely. He glanced longingly at the screen again. They hadn't laid down any ground rules for scratching those itches. Maybe he could convince Reese, so he wouldn't have to be alone, just for an hour or two.
He got into his car, making a mental list of why this was a spectacularly bad idea. He had to stop at number fifty-three, when he realized he was nowhere close to running out of steam. But he just couldn't bear to go back to his own home. His hands were trembling as he walked down the corridor to Reese's loft. He took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. It wouldn't do to give himself away and make Reese back down. He gave a sharp rap on the door.
Reese opened dressed in yoga pants, barefoot and with his hair in disorder. He lifted an inquiring eyebrow.
”Has something come up, Finch?” He stepped aside to let Harold inside. Harold looked around, completely at a loss of what to say. He hadn't really considered the logistics involved in this little venture. Maybe he should have had some kind of excuse. He was about to make up a lie when he met Reese's eyes and found that he couldn't. He'd promised he wouldn't lie to Reese. His shoulders slumped and he shot the other man a quick look before petting Bear.
”I... I just wanted some company. Am I intruding? I'm sorry, I didn't even consider that you might have plans.” He twisted to look at Reese and was met by a brilliant smile. Reese's face was completely open and there was a genuine joy there, directed at Harold.
”Can I get you anything? Make yourself at home, Harold. How about some wine? I have a rather excellent vintage here. At least that's what I was told when I received it as a housewarming present.” His smile turned slightly teasing, but no less real. It stole Harold's breath and short-circuited his brain. He could only sit there and stare at Reese. ”What? What did I do?”
Harold shook himself. ”Nothing, Mr. Reese.” As soon as the words had passed his lips Reese's smile dimmed. He turned around and pulled the wine out. Harold's brow crinkled as he frowned in confusion. ”The question is rather: what did I do? Is it upsetting you that I'm here?” Reese grabbed two glasses and sat down on the couch.”
”I'm glad you're here, Finch. I just- I'm a little confused. I assumed you wanted to...”
”To what?”
”To keep your distance, the way we usually do. I figured that's how you wanted it. We keep our distance even when we're... intimate.” The last was said disparagingly. Then Reese gave a small shrug. ”It's not a complaint, just an observation.”
”I didn't think we were intimate right now.” Reese gave a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
”No, but for a moment I sort of thought we might be, in a different way. I'm sorry for the mistake.” He poured the wine, all traces of a smile gone. Even Harold could feel the tension building between them, and not in a good way. He had to do something to defuse the situation, even if he wasn't sure how to interpret Reese's earlier statement. He swept a hand over his face and said the truth:
”I got lonely. It was too quiet in the library and I didn't want to go home to silence. I didn't mean to impose on you, or ruin your downtime, John. I'm sorry.” Just like that the smile was back, making crow's feet appear at the corners of John's eyes. It's brilliance had Harold awe-struck, that he was the recipient and the reason for that smile. Then the smile gentled and John leaned into Harold.
”I'm about to do something really stupid; I've wanted to do this ever since that first time. If you don't want me to kiss you, Harold, you'd better say so now.” Harold inhaled sharply and with that John pressed his lips against his. It was nothing like that first kiss, which had been desperate and a little crazy. This was slow, thorough, exploring and soft. He clenched his fists, not sure what to do with his hands. But his body took over without his bidding. One hand slipped to John's shoulder while the other stayed at the nape of his neck. He gave a low groan as John's tongue teased at the seam of his lips, demanding entrance. The kiss deepened, grew in intensity but stayed unhurried. John kissed him like his life depended on it and Harold responded all too easily to his demanding mouth. Finally John pulled back to breathe. Harold made a small sound as he took in his appearance. Eyes heavy-lidded, face flushed, hair in disarray and half dressed, John was without doubt the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen.
”Let me make love to you.” The soft whisper slid like liquid silk down his damaged spine, drawing a shudder from him. He looked at John, who leaned back expectantly. “Let me show you how it could be, how we could be. Trust me, Harold.” He could only close his eyes and nod, throat swelled shut and choking from emotion. He wouldn't have to be lonely. He swallowed hard, but his voice was still choked when he asked:
“Is this what you want, John? I can't go back to scratching itches, taking scraps. If you don't want it all, including emotions, then we'd better stop here and now.” John's eyes fell close and his smile faltered slightly as he gave a sigh of relief.
“Finally! I had given up on this, on us. I thought...” His voice trailed off. “I figured you didn't want more than a physical aspect of a relationship.”
Harold gave a minute smile. “You know I'm not good with people, Mr. Reese.” He used the surname teasingly and John's smile returned. He really had to work hard at keeping John smiling. He was stunning when he did so. “But it's dawned on me that we've been in a proper relationship for a long time. I've just been too afraid to see it, to admit it.” He reached out and gave John's cheek a gentle caress, cupping his face. “I do believe you mentioned something about making love?” With that he leaned in and captured John's mouth again. This time he didn't hold back, he allowed himself to pour all the pent-up longing into the kiss. John groaned and clung to him. Harold let his hands roam over John's bare chest, tracing muscles and scars alike. He'd touched them before, but had forced himself to do so more clinically. Now he tipped himself forward, pressing a kiss over John's heart. Suddenly he wasn't afraid anymore. “You do know that I love you?” He phrased it as a question.
“I do now. Thank you.” The words were soft, heartfelt. “I love you too.” John's strong hands were on him, pressing him back on the couch. Harold let himself be manhandled. John knew what he could and couldn't do to him. But never before had he been this gentle, this caring. Harold had to blink hard to push back tears. He'd never believed he'd have this; that he'd be in love and be loved back. To have someone know who he truly was and still love him. Deft fingers were unbuttoning his shirt, baring his chest. There was none of their usual rush, John clearly intended to take his time. He looked up at Harold, blue eyes glittering with mischief. “It's about time I get to show you my skills.”
“I've had no reason to complain about your performance so far,” Harold argued. John gave a light laugh.
“I've figured that. But now I get to take my time and do this properly.” His smiled turned a touch predatory; Harold swallowed hard. “I fully intend to make you scream my name, Harold.” With that he removed Harold's shirt completely and set to work on his pants. Harold's eyes shuttered half-closed. John's fingers traced patterns on his bare skin, drawing nonsensical designs. They left a fluttering in his gut. A warm mouth followed in the wake of those clever fingers, interspersed with nips of blunt teeth. Harold moaned and reached out to tangle his fingers in John's hair. His lover made a small sound and pressed up gently into that touch. His lover. It was almost mind-boggling. John peppered his chest with kisses trailing down to his groin. Not one inch of his skin was untouched. Harold let his head sink back in the pillow under his head, feeling arousal building in a slow wave. When John's fingers reached the waistband of his pants he shifted his hips, giving a slight thrust. John laughed.
“Getting antsy, Harold? I'm getting there, don't worry.” Harold reveled in the lightness of his tone. He'd seen John happy, but now there was pure joy on his face. His mouth shaped an answering smile.
“You can't fault me for getting impatient. We're usually close to the finish line by this time.”
“I know. But we're in no hurry tonight. I for one fully intend to explore you.” He kissed Harold's hip bone. “We deserve this.”
“Indeed we do,” Harold agreed as he carded through John's hair. He found he didn't want to stop touching John, not now when he was finally certain he was allowed to. John gave something close to a purr, before he opened Harold's pants and removed them. Harold let a sigh escape as John traced him through the thin cloth of his boxers, gripping him lightly. The sigh turned into a choked sound as John pulled off the underwear to slide his hot mouth down Harold's shaft. He'd done so before, but then it had been rushed, frantic. Now he took Harold in completely, burying his nose in the wiry hairs at the base. His lips shaped in a smile around Harold's cock as his eyes fluttered close. Harold couldn't tear his eyes away from him. It was without doubt the most erotic thing he'd ever seen, and voyeurism was kind of his career. He'd seen a lot, but nothing could compare to that little smirk around his erection. Then John swallowed around him and Harold changed his mind. That was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen, not to mention felt. His back tried to arch, not that he could go through with the motion very much, and his fingers tightened in John's hair as he increased the suction and speed. He made a contented sound and Harold could see that he was palming himself through his pants. Oh dear lord, John was going to give him a heart attack long before he'd reached his climax. He shifted minutely, thrusting gently into John's mouth. John made a noise of encouragement and let his teeth scrape lightly along his length. His hand reached up to cup Harold's sac, rolling him gently in his hand.
“John?” Harold's voice was a broken whisper. John pulled back to look at him. With his lips swollen and face flushed he was truly beautiful.
“Yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper as well.
“If you continue doing that I will be out for the count.” John got to his feet smoothly, Harold following his every move as he slipped out of his pants. He was hard, already leaking and glistening. He wrapped strong fingers around himself and gave a slow slide.
“You like to watch, Harold. Would you like to see me prepare myself?”
“Good god, yes, I would like that very much.” John's trademark smirk reappeared on his face as he sauntered over to his nightstand. Harold watched the play of muscles in his back and buttocks. He may not be that young anymore, but he was a powerfully built man. Harold couldn't wait to lick his way down those muscles. After a bit of rummaging John found his prize. The flush had spread over his chest and his eyes were sparkling. He went back to Harold and straddled him. Harold let his hands rest on John's thighs, gently rubbing them.
“This is your favorite position, unless I'm mistaken?” Harold huffed a laugh. It was indeed, as he got to watch John. And this time he wouldn't have to hold himself back, he could touch to his heart's content. He trailed fingers over John's pecs and abs, stopping just above his groin.
“You are like a sculpture, a work of art. I could spend days just looking at you.” His voice was soft, intimate. John gave a small laugh; it held a tinge of embarrassment.
“I much prefer when you touch me.”
“Like this?” Harold took his length and gave a slow stroke. John's head fell back as he reached behind himself to stretch himself open. Harold watched as his fingers entered. John reared up a bit to give Harold a better view. It was stunningly sensual. Harold kept up his even stroke and John picked up his rhythm, alternating thrusting into Harold's hand with pushing back on his own fingers. He added a little roll to his hips and a sound tore from him. He panted slightly as he spoke:
“This is so amazing! It feels so good...” His voice trailed into another moan. Harold let his other hand slip back to John's chest, teasing the flushed expanse of skin as he sped up his strokes slightly. “Oh, don't... I won't last if you do that.” Harold gave him a smirk.
“Then I propose that you shift your position, so I can fuck you properly.” He never used profanities, he didn't see the point. But the effect if had on John was amazing. His eyes clenched shut and he groaned as he reached back to position Harold. As he sank down, drawing Harold in, he drew a deep shuddering breath.
“I think I like it when you talk dirty, Harold. Do you want to test my theory?” Harold gave a small thrust of his hips, pressing into John. John twitched and rolled his hips again before lifting himself. He found an easy rhythm, using his strong legs to ride Harold. He shifted again and Harold knew he'd found the sweet spot. He made sure to cant his hips to keep the angle he had, and John moaned. As he reached out to caress John's chest and run fingers over his strong arms he started talking.
“I've always liked this position best. I love to watch you fuck yourself on me, I love how your abdominal muscles twitch and contract when my cock rubs that spot deep inside of you.” They did just that as John moaned again, a bit louder now. “I love to see your face when you ride my cock, how your eyes narrow in pleasure, how you look all sharp and tense. Being fucked is a good look on you, John.” He gave a sharper thrust as John was on the down stroke, meeting him halfway. John licked his lips and swallowed convulsively. His head dropped forward, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. His entire body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, making him glisten. “I wish I could sit up now, so I could lick your chest as you fuck yourself on me.” His voice was unsteady; he could feel orgasm building in him. “I'm so close now, John. All I need is a few more thrusts and you clenching down on my cock.” John smiled even as his head lolled back again; with a groan he sped up. Harold matched him the best he could, still keeping the angle. John rose nearly all the way before shoving himself down roughly on Harold. His internal muscles clenched around Harold; who could no longer wait.
“Oh god John, I'm going to come. So amazing, so... John!” The howl tore from his throat as his entire body seized up in orgasm. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, his entire being awash in blinding pleasure. John gave a smug laugh.
“I told you I could have you screaming my name-” Harold reached out and took a firm grip of his cock again. He pumped him roughly as he stroked his now softening erection deep into John's ass. John's eyes screwed shut, his jaw clenching. His entire body strained forward, tensing up as he came hard. Low grunts tore from him as he reared his head back, spine arching as the last of his release splattered over his own stomach and Harold's hand. Never before had Harold seen him so unrestrained. It was a sight to behold. Feeling suddenly wanton he raised his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean. John gave a shudder and looked at him from under lowered eyelids. “Are you trying to kill me?” Harold gave a sharp smile and shifted, drawing a moan from them both.
“Wouldn't that be a way to go?”
“Death by orgasm. Quite an unusual death certificate.” Harold gave a gentle laugh, reaching up to pull John down for a kiss. The other man followed eagerly, gently tangling their tongues. “I think we might be in need of a shower.” He clambered off Harold, staggering slightly. Harold got to his feet stiffly to support him.
“Are you all right?” John's laugh was sinfully deep.
“Never been better. Give me some time and I'll prove it to you.” Harold laughed as he let himself be tugged along to the bathroom. He felt remarkably carefree.
“To quote someone I love dearly: It took me some time to identify, but I'm actually happy.” John bent down to kiss him again.
“So am I, Harold. So am I.”