POI Fanfic - Raven Part 2
POI Fanfic - Raven - Part 2
(explicit)
***
Reese looked up as another passenger jet passed over their heads, loud and low. They were very close to the airport, in the path of final approach. It reminded him of being on the airstrip in Kandahar.
He wished he’d brought a gun.
The hotel was probably nice enough. The alley behind it, where he waited beside Finch, was not so nice. “What the hell are we doing here?” he asked, when the jet noise abated.
“Meeting someone,” Finch answered easily. He was looking around, and his posture was in direct contrast to his casual tone.
“We couldn’t meet them in the lobby?” There was something in the air, something that didn’t feel right. It put Reese on edge. “Or better yet, in the lobby of the hotel you actually own?”
Finch glanced at him dismissively. “Oh, no. That would be quite problematic.”
Which meant that this ‘encounter’ was important, and Finch didn’t want it involved with anything he owned. Reese felt the ache of emptiness at the small of his back. He was lonely for a gun.
“Ahhhhhh,” Finch said.
Reese turned. It hadn’t sounded like Finch was saying, ‘Ahh, there she is’. It sounded like the noise he made when he finally got all of John’s clothes off. Intimate.
And then he saw the woman and the noise made perfect sense.
She was standing in the mouth of the alley. She was tallish, thin - willowy sprang to Reese’s mind. She wore a dark cloak that came clear to the ground, and her face was lost within the shadows of the deep hood. There was a silver clasp at the neck.
A cloak? Reese’s logical mind protested. A freaking cloak? If she had a dagger, too, he was going to be really pissed. Finch should have let him bring a gun. He should have insisted. She was dangerous …
She was dressed funny, his logic argued. That didn’t make her dangerous.
There was another part of his mind, though, where her appearance made perfect sense. Where he’d expected her to wear nothing else. Hell, where he hoped she was wearing nothing else.
What the hell?
With great effort, he looked toward Harold. “Who is she?”
Finch stared at the woman. He didn’t even try to look away, to meet Reese’s eyes. His mouth was open a little. He licked his lip. “Raven,” he pronounced, very softly, like a prayer.
Reese swiveled back. The woman raised one hand to her hood. She was going to let them see her face. John’s pulse raced with anticipation, with arousal. Her face …
His logical brain shouted, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?
The hood fell back.
The woman was very pale. Her hair was long, straight, shiny, black. Her eyes were black, too, and shiny. Her lips were red and full and bright.
SHE’S NOT FUCKING HUMAN, John’s sense insisted in alarm that edged on terror.
“I don’t fucking care,” he murmured aloud.
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Joy that was also pain gathered at the center of his chest. And at the base of his cock. She was so impossibly beautiful …
What had Harold said? Something about an impossibly beautiful woman. Those exact words. It hadn’t been an hour ago, why couldn’t he remember the words?
The woman smiled. Suddenly he couldn’t even remember his name. Not that it mattered. She was impossibly beautiful, and he had to have her.
He felt Harold’s hand on his back. He knew without looking - because he could not look away from her, now that he could see her face - that Finch couldn’t look away from her, either. “Go get her,” he said quietly.
“Huh?”
“If you catch her, we can have her.” The touch suddenly turned into a shove. “Go!”
Reese stumbled forward. By the second step he was running toward the woman. Her smile grew brighter. She turned away, a sweep of black cloak and purple-blue beneath, and fled.
She was unrealistically fast. Reese flat sprinted after her, but he couldn’t seem to gain any ground. There were twenty yards between them. She dodged through the few pedestrians on the sidewalk. No one tried to stop her. No one tried to stop him, either. It was like they were invisible. But how could she be invisible, when just seeing her made his hormones flood and his heart race? How could these other men possibly just let her pass?
He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He just had to catch her. Harold said if he caught her he could have her. And he had to have her. He would die if he couldn’t have her. He put on another burst of speed, closed the gap to fifteen yards. He would catch up with her and then he would
…
She turned right around the corner of the building, out of sight.
Reese kept running, but that small smothered logical part of his mind managed to speak. Then you would what? Throw her on the ground and fuck her in the middle of the street? What if she doesn’t want you? Do you just plan to force her?
His hormone argued back. She will want me. She must want me. She has to. Because if she doesn’t …
He rounded the corner, caught sight of her again, and his logic got stomped into oblivion once more. Run her down, catch her, take her.
Reese was getting tired. Slowing down. He still desperately wanted to catch her, but his leg didn’t have any sprint left in them. He wasn’t getting any closer. But he wasn’t falling back, either. Either she was tiring, too, or she’s slowed down to let him keep up. Either way, a plan started to form in his hunter brain. Slow some more, let her slow, get a little closer, throw down one last blast of speed. Run her down, catch her, take her.
She turned another corner. To the right again. She was headed back toward the hotel. That was good, logic brain offered. The hotel, even the alley behind it where he’d left Finch, was better than out in the middle of the street.
Where he’d left Finch.
It caught him in mid-stride. He’d left Finch alone and defenseless while he chased this woman.
But Finch wasn’t in any danger, was he? And Finch had told him to go. He’d said …
He turned the corner and saw her again, and again his logic ceased to exist. She ran. He chased.
He knew before she turned the last corner that she would turn there. She was headed right back to Finch. Well, maybe Finch could catch her. Hold her until Reese got there. And then … and then …
When she turned out of sight, his rational mind came back. She’s not fucking human, it said again, not shouting but as clear as ever. You can’t think when you look at her. That’s not like you, John. Think. Slow down and think. What are you dealing with here? What if Finch can’t think, either? What if she gets to him before you do? What if …
He turned the corner and the logic shut off like a switch.
But this time, instead of passion and desperate need, it was replaced by rage.
The woman was in Finch’s arms, and he was kissing her.
Reese dropped to a walk. A stalk. He would kill him, he thought simply. Kill Harold and claim the woman, here and now.
He paused in mid-stride. He loved Harold.
Kill himself, then, and let Harold have her.
Because clearly those were the only two options.
He stalked closer, still undecided. Why hadn’t he brought a gun? It would make things so much easier.
The need in him rose up as a growl in his throat.
Finch opened his eyes, pulled his lips away from the woman’s. For a bare instant there was madness in his blue eyes, an insanity that Reese knew was reflected in his own. A challenge. Come and take her, if you can. Then he blinked, shifted his arms, and turned the woman around. “John,” he said, his voice edged with ferocity, “this is Raven.”
John’s cock felt like it was made of glass, like just the right vibration in the air would cause it to explode.
He moved closer.
He thought Harold tried to push the woman toward him, but he couldn’t manage it. He kept his arm wrapped possessively around her waist, her back pressed against his chest. It didn’t matter. Reese moved in and without pause crushed his lips against hers. He felt her arms wrap around his shoulders and his whole body rejoiced in her embrace. Her lips parted, her tongue plundered his mouth with as much enthusiasm as his did hers. He put his arms around her, around Harold, and drew both of them tight against him.
Raven moaned in pleasure.
He knew she could feel his erection against her. He was certain that she could feel Harold’s as well. She didn’t object to either. Objection seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind.
If you catch her, we can have her. That’s what Harold had said. We can have her. For the first time, John could process that word. We. Together.
Harold’s face was just over her shoulder. John managed to lift his lips from hers and press them to his lover’s, very briefly, before he had to, had to kiss her again. “Harold,” he murmured into her mouth. “Raven.”
His hand slid over the cloak, across her breasts and up to the silver clasp. She made a soft keening sound and her body writhed against him, welcoming the touch, welcoming whatever he wanted.
Finch yanked the woman backward, out of his grasp. Reese roared with anger and went after her, but Harold blocked him with his body, turned her away. Not seeing her face let John grab a tiny thread of sanity. “Raven!” Finch barked. “Hood. Now.”
She kept her face averted, pulled her hood back up. Vanished into the shadow.
Reese managed to look away from her, but he sobbed at the loss. “Harold, please. Please!”
“Yes,” Finch assured him quickly. “Oh, yes. You can have her. As much as you want. We both can. I promise. But inside.”
Raven kept her head down, her back turned. She walked to the side entrance of the hotel and swiped her room key through the lock.
Harold took John’s arm and guided him after her. He was careful not to touch the woman, and though John wanted to grab her again frantically, he recognized the wisdom in distance. Finch nodded approvingly. “The last thing we need is to get arrested again.”
From beneath the hood, John thought he heard Raven giggle.
They followed her to the service elevator. Again the key card gave them access. Reese almost cried when she pressed the ‘23’ button. That was much too far away. He took Harold’s hand and squeezed it fiercely. “It’s okay,” Finch promised. “It’s okay.”
The woman turned and faced the back corner of the elevator. She was nothing but a slender black shape then. Reese could breathe, could half-way think. Enough to know that he was badly disoriented, out of control. That he still had a raging hard-on. He glanced over. Finch did, too. And from the look in his eyes, he was only slightly less unhinged. But he nodded reassuringly. “It’s okay,” he said again. “Two more minutes and then you can let go.”
Reese’s mouth was dry. He licked his lips. They tasted like Raven. Like desire and madness and magic.
“Who is she?” he managed to ask.
The elevator dinged and stopped. After a maddeningly long pause that was probably actually three seconds long, the door opened. Finch took Reese by the arm and pulled him out into the hallway. They waited off to the side. Raven slipped out, still facing the wall, and moved away from them. The men followed, grasping each other’s arms for support and restraint.
It was a very long walk to the hotel room. Reese’s cock ached.
Finally, finally, she stopped and opened a door. She walked through. The men followed. The door closed. Reese reached back and put on the privacy lock without ever taking his eyes off the woman.
Finch walked to her, pushed her hood back, and kissed her again.
Reese held onto the door knob with both hands. It kept him from leaping forward and strangling his beloved partner, but only just. He watched the way her back arched over Harold’s arm, the way her slender pale fingers came up to trace along his jaw line. Though John still wanted her frantically, something in him eased. He remembered how well Harold kissed, and he was glad she was enjoying that kiss.
Then he licked his lips and tasted her again, and he screamed through clenched teeth.
Somehow, Harold lifted his lips from hers again. “Of course, John,” he said with astonishing clarity. He slid behind the woman and moved her towards him.
Reese reached for her eagerly. Slid his hands under the cloak and around her waist. She was wearing what felt like satin. The skin beneath was warm. He drew her close and kissed her. Her lips parted for him easily and he tasted her again. John put one foot between hers, pushing her legs apart, pressing his crotch tight against hers. Her hands were busy at his shoulders. She pushed his overcoat away and then his suit coat. Her fingers moved to the front of his shirt and he was torn between giving her enough room to undress him and keeping her tight against him. The desire for skin contact finally won out and Reese loosened his grasp just a little, lifted his head.
Harold, bless him a thousand times, was still behind her. His nimble fingers came around the front of her neck. One hand stroked her slender throat. The other undid the silver clasp that held the cloak. He drew it back and the garment fell onto the floor behind her. Reese looked down. It was satin, the dress she wore, and a beautiful blend of blue and black and purple, depending on where the light fell. It was long, though he could not bear to stand back enough to see all of it. It wrapped at the waist, and above he could see the swell of her white breasts.
Still painfully confined in his pants, his long-erect cock began to weep with desire.
Raven pushed his shirt away. His wrists got caught in the cuffs and John tore at them impatiently. She already had his t-shirt up by then, and he gladly ducked out of it. He toed out of his shoes and kicked them aside.
Harold’s hands covered her breasts, caressed them through her dress. Raven sighed and turned her head to catch his lips. It was almost unbearable, but her hot pale hands descended on John’s chest, trailing across muscle and his own hardening nipples, and his anger died. He used the moment to undo his belt and his pants. She turned back to him, kissed him, and now he could taste Harold on her lips as well.
He groaned in ecstasy and desperation.
Raven’s hands slid down to his hips and pushed his pants away.
Harold’s hands unfastened whatever held the dress closed. He pulled the fabric to the sides and revealed her to John. She was naked beneath it. Her bare skin was magnificently white against the dark of her clothes, her breasts firm and perfect, the nipples nearly as red as her lips, already hard.
John cried out, all but overwhelmed. He felt dizzy, lost. He kicked at his pants around his ankles, got one leg free, not the other. It didn’t matter. He got his hands on her skin as Harold peeled the dress off entirely. “Please,” he begged. There were no other words. “Please, please.”
She smiled beneath his lips. Nodded. Backed away. John held her fiercely. She could not leave. He could not let her leave. It wasn’t until Harold moved behind him, pushed him, that he realized she was trying to lead him to the bed. He moved with her, then, willingly. Harold’s hands were on his back, peeling away his boxer briefs as they moved. I love this man, Reese thought through the haze of overwhelming arousal. Raven’s tongue played irresistibly over his. I don’t know what he’s done here or how, but I love him for this. For so many things.
Raven stopped at the edge of the bed. Reese scooped her up and lowered her down. He leaned over her eagerly, only vaguely aware that Finch was peeling his pants off his ankles for him. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that he had to have her, to cover her, to possess her. Now.
The last fading flickers of reason screamed two words at him: Foreplay and condom.
He moved between her legs. Raven reached for him, pulled him toward her. He caught one rouged nipple between his lips and she shrieked in pleasure, but she kept pulling him closer, insistent. Clearly, foreplay was off the table. Maybe chasing her around the block counted.
His raging erection was already against her skin, at her opening. It took every ounce of will he possessed not to enter her immediately. He held himself very still, crying out in frustration.
Harold was beside them, his hand warm on John’s back. “Go on,” he said. “Take her.”
Reese shook his head frantically. There were tears of want in his eyes now. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he would die if he didn’t enter her, fuck her, and yet, and yet … “C-c-c …”
“What is it?” Finch asked against is ear. “What do you need?”
“C-c-condom …” he managed to say through his clenched teeth.
Harold snorted. “Always the Boy Scout. There’s no need. Don’t worry about it.”
“B-b-but …”
“It’s alright, John. I swear.”
It went against everything John knew. But Finch had promised never to lie to him. And he wanted him to believe him. No, he just didn’t care. He wanted this woman. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was absolutely certain he was going die, literally die, if he couldn’t take her.
Raven smiled up at him. She raised her hand to his face, cupped his cheek, ran her thumb over his cheekbone. “What a beautiful thoughtful boy you are,” she said. Her voice was warm, throaty with her own desire. “Come to me.”
And then she moved against him and he was lost.
He thrust into her. She was tight, but slick, and he entered with just the right amount of friction. He went deep, all the way, without hesitation. Then he paused, deeply seated. The sick sharp edge of his desire retreated like a fever breaking, leaving only pleasure in its place. If only he could stay right here forever, right here …
Raven drew his face down and kissed him. He tried to keep his weight on his arms. She retreated just a little, thrust against him. No rest for the wicked, he thought, and grinned. Then he withdrew and thrust against her in response.
There was time for some long, slow strokes. Time to study her face while he fucked her almost casually. Her eyes really were black. They were also bright and smiling, pleased with everything he did. He basked in her approval. There was nothing in the world, he realized, more important than pleasing Raven, but there was no pressure implied there. He had a cock, and then a mouth, and then fingers, and he would use them all to exhaustion in her service. Her smile said that she knew that, and more, that she’d never had any doubt.
His thrusts grew faster, still steady, still deep.
Her face had the freshness of a girl, the calm wisdom of an old woman. He realized with surprise that he could not have said reliably whether she was fifteen or fifty. Even that close, he wasn’t sure.
He didn’t care.
Beside him, Finch groaned softly. Reese managed to glance toward him. His lover was stripping out of his own clothes. His cock was clearly erect, straining against his silk boxers. Reese remembered every inch of it, every crease, its weight, its width. Harold was ready. He was waiting his turn.
It had to be agony, Reese knew, to wait. Waiting to claim Raven would be agony. He turned his attention back to the woman and hurried his strokes.
Third in the John Reese lexicon of lovemaking, after foreplay and condoms, was ladies first - lovers first, since his romance with Finch. He did not, would not, let himself climax before he’d pleased his lover. But he was already slipping toward the edge with this woman. He moved faster still, torn between his desire to please her and to get out of Finch’s way. And his own desire. As badly as he’d wanted to enter her, now he wanted to come inside her. Wanted, wanted. He tried to hold back, and the attempt almost made him scream again.
“No, no,” Raven said. “Don’t hold back. Come with me.”
Her voice rose sharply at the end. Reese put one hand behind her shoulders and lifted her off the bed, holding her so he could thrust harder. She closed her eyes, rolled her head back. “Oh, yes,” she said, through her own clenched teeth. “Oh, there, yes!”
Reese gave up all thought of control and simply fucked her, as hard and as fast as he could. It felt right. It felt like what she wanted. It was damn sure what he wanted. His strokes went shorter, faster. Her fingers flexed on his skin, driving him harder, holding him closer. He let himself get lost in the wonder of that, that Raven wanted him, wanted him inside her, wanted his pleasure within her. Her body clenched around him as her orgasm began and then he was utterly lost. He managed two more long strokes, and then he was coming, hard, screaming again as he did.
He collapsed onto her, into Raven’s arms, and she held him, stroked him. Her body still trembled around him. John felt like he was floating, out of his own body, utterly unhinged in rapture.
And he wanted her again, even before his cock went soft.
“Damn it, John,” Finch said roughly. There was a hand on his shoulder, a hard shove. “Move!”
Reese let himself fall off to the side. He rolled once, pulling Raven with him, making room on the far side of her for Finch. They were on the white sheets, he noticed. He didn’t remember who’d pulled back the bedspread and blankets. or when. It didn’t matter. Harold climbed onto the bed, laid on his back, and grabbed frantically for the woman. John helped her to sit up. She threw one leg over Harold’s, straddled him, the lowered herself onto his stiff pulsing cock.
They’d never done anything like this before, he and Harold. Nothing even close. But it didn’t matter. John had never seen anything more erotic in his life than watching his lover’s cock vanish into this woman’s ready, welcoming pussy. He stretched out next to them and watched intently. He watched the relief on Harold’s face when he was finally seated deeply inside her. He watched the joy that played over Raven’s expression while she let him rest there. She seemed so very pleased to have him inside her. Her hands stroked over Harold’s shoulders, over his chest, combed through the sparse covering of brown and silver hair there. Grazed over his nipples, which John knew were exceptionally sensitive. But she didn’t move, not yet. She recognized the sublime relief in him just to have entered her, and she let him revel in it.
John still couldn’t decide how old she was.
Harold made a small noise and she moved, up and back, small strokes, slowly. He groaned. Raven leaned forward and kissed him deeply. Reese watched their lips, caught glimpses of their tongues. Her hips continued to move slowly. Harold’s hand fell to the bed and his fingers began to clench and release the sheet in rhythm to her movement.
“More,” Harold whispered, pleaded.
The woman sat up, on her heels, and began moving in longer strokes on his cock.
Reese looked at her whole body for the first time. Her skin was impossibly white, as if she never left the house without a parasol. Her breasts were high, firm, and her nipples had remained hard and red. Her arms were smooth, limber, strong. Her waist tapered nicely, flared into smooth hips. The curve of her ass was just a little lavish, in perfect balance with her breasts. Her black hair flowed across her back, moved like a river with the motion of her body. She had a tiny navel, and below, just a small patch off black above her crease.
Harold’s cock appeared and disappeared behind that patch. His body trembled with desire, and his hips rose with her as well as they could. Higher on his right side than his left. For a fleeting instant Reese wished he could help, that Finch could thrust as well as he could. He leaned forward, then rolled back. There was no need. Raven would take care of him.
She moved faster, rising up on strong thighs, lowering herself to take that cock deep into her. John could feel Harold’s pleasure, could feel Raven’s. He reached over and took his lover’s hand. Finch’s fingers closed over his. They tightened and loosened with ever stroke. Harold turned his head and looked at him for one moment. John grinned encouragement.
Harold closed his eyes, moaned, pleaded wordlessly. Raven shortened her strokes, took him faster, just as John had taken her. She leaned forward again, claimed Harold’s mouth without reserve.
Finch’s hand crushed Reese’s, and his hips thrust upward sharply, and John watched as he came and came.
Harold’s hips collapsed onto the bed. Raven stayed on top of him, with his cock still inside her. They were both panting. She kissed him again, lingering.
She turned her head and looked at Reese.
His cock had been half-erect from watching them. The minute their eyes met, he was fully hard again. It wasn’t just a physical desire. It was a deep and urgent need. He had to fuck her again. Now.
Who the hell was she?
What was she doing to them?
“Come to me,” Raven invited. “Take me.”
Reese scrambled up. He had a brief moment of confusion; he didn’t want to make Finch leave her, but he had to be inside her, too. She was kneeling over Finch, her ankles next to his hips, her ass in the air. The answer was immediately obvious.
He knew how to do this. Finch said condoms weren’t necessary, and that ship had sailed now. But without lube? Reese glanced down at his cock, which was as erect and hard as if he’d been celibate for a year. Her fluids still glistened on it, slick, but so did his, sticky.
John looked at them again. Finch was still now, resting, his cock likely flaccid inside her. They were both looking at him patiently. Figure this out, he thought frantically. They want you to join them, figure this out. To share a woman with Finch, to be inside her with his partner, was an unbearably exciting idea. He just needed …
He moved to kneel behind Raven on the bed, between Harold’s calves. He put his hand on her back and pushed her gently; she obligingly leaned and kissed Finch again. He didn’t object. Reese reached down and cupped his partner’s balls for a moment, feeling their familiar weight, their texture. Then he straightened two fingers and slid them up along Harold’s cock, inside the woman’s pussy. She was still tight and slick. Both of them groaned in pleasure. He felt Harold’s cock twitch and begin to fill. He withdrew and thrust his fingers again and again, stroking both of them. Finch’s cock hardened, limiting his movement. He withdrew, used Raven’s own juices to slick his way as he teased around her other opening. He slipped his fingertip inside her ass, and then his whole finger.
She shuddered immediately in climax. Harold cried out as she clenched around him. John sensed that it took a huge effort for his partner to remain still. He bent his finger slightly toward her front, running it along the thin barrier that separated him from Harold’s cock. Then he withdrew and replaced one finger with two.
Finch thrust gently, unable to stop himself. Raven began to move, up and back, rutting against both of them. “Please,” she murmured. “Please.”
It was hugely gratifying to hear her plead. Reese didn’t have the self-control to hold out for more. He withdrew his fingers completely and moved up behind her, his knees between Harold’s outstretched legs, and pressed the head of his cock - already leaking pre-cum - against her opening. He moved forward very slowly.
Raven unexpectedly thrust back against him. He was suddenly sheathed deep within her ass, his cock parallel to Harold’s, separated only by a thin warm barrier. It was very tight, very hot. He pulled back and thrust again. His balls brushed against Finch’s.
He thought again that he was going to die of pleasure. What the hell had Harold said about that? Something about dying in bed … something … he couldn’t remember.
It didn’t matter.
Harold tried to move. Reese knew that thrusting from the bottom hurt his lover, later if not now, that it aggravated his old injury. But more to the point, in this configuration it wasn’t helpful. John leaned forward, pressing his back against Raven’s to kiss Harold’s mouth. The taste of the two of them together was heady, overpowering. “Be still,” he said clearly. “Let me do this.”
Finch opened his eyes and met his gaze. This close, Reese knew, he could see him without his glasses. He smiled, and Finch smiled back. A beautiful smile. He had never loved him more.
He sat back on his knees and took Raven’s hips between his hands. He held her still while he worked her, withdrawing, thrusting, feeling Harold, feeling her. He moved as slowly as he could. The woman protested, tried to move against him. He held her tight, and continued at a casual pace. Harold complained then, too. Reese knew his motion was driving the woman up and back on Finch’s cock as well. The slow thrusts were driving both of them to the edge.
He thrust, enjoying their pleasure, his pleasure. His power. His control.
Raven shuddered again. Harold cried out, his hips moving helplessly at the bottom of the pile. Suddenly Reese could not maintain his control. His own orgasm was there, a few strokes away. He drove hard, fast, fucking her, fucking Finch. He drove them over the edge, and then he followed them over. The room filled with the sounds of their climaxes.
Raven’s body continued to squeeze and tremble after both men were done, her contractions squeezing them almost past pleasure and into pain. Finally she slumped over Finch’s chest. Reese leaned over her, careful to keep his weight on his knees. He kissed Finch, and then Raven turned her head and he kissed her, too.
Finally, carefully, he withdrew. His lower legs were already over the end of the bed; he staggered to his feet. The woman rolled off Finch and sprawled on her back in the center of the bed. Harold simply stared at the ceiling, his face blank and blissful.
(Continued) Part 3 - http://caseym.livejournal.com/2151.html
(explicit)
***
Reese looked up as another passenger jet passed over their heads, loud and low. They were very close to the airport, in the path of final approach. It reminded him of being on the airstrip in Kandahar.
He wished he’d brought a gun.
The hotel was probably nice enough. The alley behind it, where he waited beside Finch, was not so nice. “What the hell are we doing here?” he asked, when the jet noise abated.
“Meeting someone,” Finch answered easily. He was looking around, and his posture was in direct contrast to his casual tone.
“We couldn’t meet them in the lobby?” There was something in the air, something that didn’t feel right. It put Reese on edge. “Or better yet, in the lobby of the hotel you actually own?”
Finch glanced at him dismissively. “Oh, no. That would be quite problematic.”
Which meant that this ‘encounter’ was important, and Finch didn’t want it involved with anything he owned. Reese felt the ache of emptiness at the small of his back. He was lonely for a gun.
“Ahhhhhh,” Finch said.
Reese turned. It hadn’t sounded like Finch was saying, ‘Ahh, there she is’. It sounded like the noise he made when he finally got all of John’s clothes off. Intimate.
And then he saw the woman and the noise made perfect sense.
She was standing in the mouth of the alley. She was tallish, thin - willowy sprang to Reese’s mind. She wore a dark cloak that came clear to the ground, and her face was lost within the shadows of the deep hood. There was a silver clasp at the neck.
A cloak? Reese’s logical mind protested. A freaking cloak? If she had a dagger, too, he was going to be really pissed. Finch should have let him bring a gun. He should have insisted. She was dangerous …
She was dressed funny, his logic argued. That didn’t make her dangerous.
There was another part of his mind, though, where her appearance made perfect sense. Where he’d expected her to wear nothing else. Hell, where he hoped she was wearing nothing else.
What the hell?
With great effort, he looked toward Harold. “Who is she?”
Finch stared at the woman. He didn’t even try to look away, to meet Reese’s eyes. His mouth was open a little. He licked his lip. “Raven,” he pronounced, very softly, like a prayer.
Reese swiveled back. The woman raised one hand to her hood. She was going to let them see her face. John’s pulse raced with anticipation, with arousal. Her face …
His logical brain shouted, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?
The hood fell back.
The woman was very pale. Her hair was long, straight, shiny, black. Her eyes were black, too, and shiny. Her lips were red and full and bright.
SHE’S NOT FUCKING HUMAN, John’s sense insisted in alarm that edged on terror.
“I don’t fucking care,” he murmured aloud.
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Joy that was also pain gathered at the center of his chest. And at the base of his cock. She was so impossibly beautiful …
What had Harold said? Something about an impossibly beautiful woman. Those exact words. It hadn’t been an hour ago, why couldn’t he remember the words?
The woman smiled. Suddenly he couldn’t even remember his name. Not that it mattered. She was impossibly beautiful, and he had to have her.
He felt Harold’s hand on his back. He knew without looking - because he could not look away from her, now that he could see her face - that Finch couldn’t look away from her, either. “Go get her,” he said quietly.
“Huh?”
“If you catch her, we can have her.” The touch suddenly turned into a shove. “Go!”
Reese stumbled forward. By the second step he was running toward the woman. Her smile grew brighter. She turned away, a sweep of black cloak and purple-blue beneath, and fled.
She was unrealistically fast. Reese flat sprinted after her, but he couldn’t seem to gain any ground. There were twenty yards between them. She dodged through the few pedestrians on the sidewalk. No one tried to stop her. No one tried to stop him, either. It was like they were invisible. But how could she be invisible, when just seeing her made his hormones flood and his heart race? How could these other men possibly just let her pass?
He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He just had to catch her. Harold said if he caught her he could have her. And he had to have her. He would die if he couldn’t have her. He put on another burst of speed, closed the gap to fifteen yards. He would catch up with her and then he would
…
She turned right around the corner of the building, out of sight.
Reese kept running, but that small smothered logical part of his mind managed to speak. Then you would what? Throw her on the ground and fuck her in the middle of the street? What if she doesn’t want you? Do you just plan to force her?
His hormone argued back. She will want me. She must want me. She has to. Because if she doesn’t …
He rounded the corner, caught sight of her again, and his logic got stomped into oblivion once more. Run her down, catch her, take her.
Reese was getting tired. Slowing down. He still desperately wanted to catch her, but his leg didn’t have any sprint left in them. He wasn’t getting any closer. But he wasn’t falling back, either. Either she was tiring, too, or she’s slowed down to let him keep up. Either way, a plan started to form in his hunter brain. Slow some more, let her slow, get a little closer, throw down one last blast of speed. Run her down, catch her, take her.
She turned another corner. To the right again. She was headed back toward the hotel. That was good, logic brain offered. The hotel, even the alley behind it where he’d left Finch, was better than out in the middle of the street.
Where he’d left Finch.
It caught him in mid-stride. He’d left Finch alone and defenseless while he chased this woman.
But Finch wasn’t in any danger, was he? And Finch had told him to go. He’d said …
He turned the corner and saw her again, and again his logic ceased to exist. She ran. He chased.
He knew before she turned the last corner that she would turn there. She was headed right back to Finch. Well, maybe Finch could catch her. Hold her until Reese got there. And then … and then …
When she turned out of sight, his rational mind came back. She’s not fucking human, it said again, not shouting but as clear as ever. You can’t think when you look at her. That’s not like you, John. Think. Slow down and think. What are you dealing with here? What if Finch can’t think, either? What if she gets to him before you do? What if …
He turned the corner and the logic shut off like a switch.
But this time, instead of passion and desperate need, it was replaced by rage.
The woman was in Finch’s arms, and he was kissing her.
Reese dropped to a walk. A stalk. He would kill him, he thought simply. Kill Harold and claim the woman, here and now.
He paused in mid-stride. He loved Harold.
Kill himself, then, and let Harold have her.
Because clearly those were the only two options.
He stalked closer, still undecided. Why hadn’t he brought a gun? It would make things so much easier.
The need in him rose up as a growl in his throat.
Finch opened his eyes, pulled his lips away from the woman’s. For a bare instant there was madness in his blue eyes, an insanity that Reese knew was reflected in his own. A challenge. Come and take her, if you can. Then he blinked, shifted his arms, and turned the woman around. “John,” he said, his voice edged with ferocity, “this is Raven.”
John’s cock felt like it was made of glass, like just the right vibration in the air would cause it to explode.
He moved closer.
He thought Harold tried to push the woman toward him, but he couldn’t manage it. He kept his arm wrapped possessively around her waist, her back pressed against his chest. It didn’t matter. Reese moved in and without pause crushed his lips against hers. He felt her arms wrap around his shoulders and his whole body rejoiced in her embrace. Her lips parted, her tongue plundered his mouth with as much enthusiasm as his did hers. He put his arms around her, around Harold, and drew both of them tight against him.
Raven moaned in pleasure.
He knew she could feel his erection against her. He was certain that she could feel Harold’s as well. She didn’t object to either. Objection seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind.
If you catch her, we can have her. That’s what Harold had said. We can have her. For the first time, John could process that word. We. Together.
Harold’s face was just over her shoulder. John managed to lift his lips from hers and press them to his lover’s, very briefly, before he had to, had to kiss her again. “Harold,” he murmured into her mouth. “Raven.”
His hand slid over the cloak, across her breasts and up to the silver clasp. She made a soft keening sound and her body writhed against him, welcoming the touch, welcoming whatever he wanted.
Finch yanked the woman backward, out of his grasp. Reese roared with anger and went after her, but Harold blocked him with his body, turned her away. Not seeing her face let John grab a tiny thread of sanity. “Raven!” Finch barked. “Hood. Now.”
She kept her face averted, pulled her hood back up. Vanished into the shadow.
Reese managed to look away from her, but he sobbed at the loss. “Harold, please. Please!”
“Yes,” Finch assured him quickly. “Oh, yes. You can have her. As much as you want. We both can. I promise. But inside.”
Raven kept her head down, her back turned. She walked to the side entrance of the hotel and swiped her room key through the lock.
Harold took John’s arm and guided him after her. He was careful not to touch the woman, and though John wanted to grab her again frantically, he recognized the wisdom in distance. Finch nodded approvingly. “The last thing we need is to get arrested again.”
From beneath the hood, John thought he heard Raven giggle.
They followed her to the service elevator. Again the key card gave them access. Reese almost cried when she pressed the ‘23’ button. That was much too far away. He took Harold’s hand and squeezed it fiercely. “It’s okay,” Finch promised. “It’s okay.”
The woman turned and faced the back corner of the elevator. She was nothing but a slender black shape then. Reese could breathe, could half-way think. Enough to know that he was badly disoriented, out of control. That he still had a raging hard-on. He glanced over. Finch did, too. And from the look in his eyes, he was only slightly less unhinged. But he nodded reassuringly. “It’s okay,” he said again. “Two more minutes and then you can let go.”
Reese’s mouth was dry. He licked his lips. They tasted like Raven. Like desire and madness and magic.
“Who is she?” he managed to ask.
The elevator dinged and stopped. After a maddeningly long pause that was probably actually three seconds long, the door opened. Finch took Reese by the arm and pulled him out into the hallway. They waited off to the side. Raven slipped out, still facing the wall, and moved away from them. The men followed, grasping each other’s arms for support and restraint.
It was a very long walk to the hotel room. Reese’s cock ached.
Finally, finally, she stopped and opened a door. She walked through. The men followed. The door closed. Reese reached back and put on the privacy lock without ever taking his eyes off the woman.
Finch walked to her, pushed her hood back, and kissed her again.
Reese held onto the door knob with both hands. It kept him from leaping forward and strangling his beloved partner, but only just. He watched the way her back arched over Harold’s arm, the way her slender pale fingers came up to trace along his jaw line. Though John still wanted her frantically, something in him eased. He remembered how well Harold kissed, and he was glad she was enjoying that kiss.
Then he licked his lips and tasted her again, and he screamed through clenched teeth.
Somehow, Harold lifted his lips from hers again. “Of course, John,” he said with astonishing clarity. He slid behind the woman and moved her towards him.
Reese reached for her eagerly. Slid his hands under the cloak and around her waist. She was wearing what felt like satin. The skin beneath was warm. He drew her close and kissed her. Her lips parted for him easily and he tasted her again. John put one foot between hers, pushing her legs apart, pressing his crotch tight against hers. Her hands were busy at his shoulders. She pushed his overcoat away and then his suit coat. Her fingers moved to the front of his shirt and he was torn between giving her enough room to undress him and keeping her tight against him. The desire for skin contact finally won out and Reese loosened his grasp just a little, lifted his head.
Harold, bless him a thousand times, was still behind her. His nimble fingers came around the front of her neck. One hand stroked her slender throat. The other undid the silver clasp that held the cloak. He drew it back and the garment fell onto the floor behind her. Reese looked down. It was satin, the dress she wore, and a beautiful blend of blue and black and purple, depending on where the light fell. It was long, though he could not bear to stand back enough to see all of it. It wrapped at the waist, and above he could see the swell of her white breasts.
Still painfully confined in his pants, his long-erect cock began to weep with desire.
Raven pushed his shirt away. His wrists got caught in the cuffs and John tore at them impatiently. She already had his t-shirt up by then, and he gladly ducked out of it. He toed out of his shoes and kicked them aside.
Harold’s hands covered her breasts, caressed them through her dress. Raven sighed and turned her head to catch his lips. It was almost unbearable, but her hot pale hands descended on John’s chest, trailing across muscle and his own hardening nipples, and his anger died. He used the moment to undo his belt and his pants. She turned back to him, kissed him, and now he could taste Harold on her lips as well.
He groaned in ecstasy and desperation.
Raven’s hands slid down to his hips and pushed his pants away.
Harold’s hands unfastened whatever held the dress closed. He pulled the fabric to the sides and revealed her to John. She was naked beneath it. Her bare skin was magnificently white against the dark of her clothes, her breasts firm and perfect, the nipples nearly as red as her lips, already hard.
John cried out, all but overwhelmed. He felt dizzy, lost. He kicked at his pants around his ankles, got one leg free, not the other. It didn’t matter. He got his hands on her skin as Harold peeled the dress off entirely. “Please,” he begged. There were no other words. “Please, please.”
She smiled beneath his lips. Nodded. Backed away. John held her fiercely. She could not leave. He could not let her leave. It wasn’t until Harold moved behind him, pushed him, that he realized she was trying to lead him to the bed. He moved with her, then, willingly. Harold’s hands were on his back, peeling away his boxer briefs as they moved. I love this man, Reese thought through the haze of overwhelming arousal. Raven’s tongue played irresistibly over his. I don’t know what he’s done here or how, but I love him for this. For so many things.
Raven stopped at the edge of the bed. Reese scooped her up and lowered her down. He leaned over her eagerly, only vaguely aware that Finch was peeling his pants off his ankles for him. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that he had to have her, to cover her, to possess her. Now.
The last fading flickers of reason screamed two words at him: Foreplay and condom.
He moved between her legs. Raven reached for him, pulled him toward her. He caught one rouged nipple between his lips and she shrieked in pleasure, but she kept pulling him closer, insistent. Clearly, foreplay was off the table. Maybe chasing her around the block counted.
His raging erection was already against her skin, at her opening. It took every ounce of will he possessed not to enter her immediately. He held himself very still, crying out in frustration.
Harold was beside them, his hand warm on John’s back. “Go on,” he said. “Take her.”
Reese shook his head frantically. There were tears of want in his eyes now. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he would die if he didn’t enter her, fuck her, and yet, and yet … “C-c-c …”
“What is it?” Finch asked against is ear. “What do you need?”
“C-c-condom …” he managed to say through his clenched teeth.
Harold snorted. “Always the Boy Scout. There’s no need. Don’t worry about it.”
“B-b-but …”
“It’s alright, John. I swear.”
It went against everything John knew. But Finch had promised never to lie to him. And he wanted him to believe him. No, he just didn’t care. He wanted this woman. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was absolutely certain he was going die, literally die, if he couldn’t take her.
Raven smiled up at him. She raised her hand to his face, cupped his cheek, ran her thumb over his cheekbone. “What a beautiful thoughtful boy you are,” she said. Her voice was warm, throaty with her own desire. “Come to me.”
And then she moved against him and he was lost.
He thrust into her. She was tight, but slick, and he entered with just the right amount of friction. He went deep, all the way, without hesitation. Then he paused, deeply seated. The sick sharp edge of his desire retreated like a fever breaking, leaving only pleasure in its place. If only he could stay right here forever, right here …
Raven drew his face down and kissed him. He tried to keep his weight on his arms. She retreated just a little, thrust against him. No rest for the wicked, he thought, and grinned. Then he withdrew and thrust against her in response.
There was time for some long, slow strokes. Time to study her face while he fucked her almost casually. Her eyes really were black. They were also bright and smiling, pleased with everything he did. He basked in her approval. There was nothing in the world, he realized, more important than pleasing Raven, but there was no pressure implied there. He had a cock, and then a mouth, and then fingers, and he would use them all to exhaustion in her service. Her smile said that she knew that, and more, that she’d never had any doubt.
His thrusts grew faster, still steady, still deep.
Her face had the freshness of a girl, the calm wisdom of an old woman. He realized with surprise that he could not have said reliably whether she was fifteen or fifty. Even that close, he wasn’t sure.
He didn’t care.
Beside him, Finch groaned softly. Reese managed to glance toward him. His lover was stripping out of his own clothes. His cock was clearly erect, straining against his silk boxers. Reese remembered every inch of it, every crease, its weight, its width. Harold was ready. He was waiting his turn.
It had to be agony, Reese knew, to wait. Waiting to claim Raven would be agony. He turned his attention back to the woman and hurried his strokes.
Third in the John Reese lexicon of lovemaking, after foreplay and condoms, was ladies first - lovers first, since his romance with Finch. He did not, would not, let himself climax before he’d pleased his lover. But he was already slipping toward the edge with this woman. He moved faster still, torn between his desire to please her and to get out of Finch’s way. And his own desire. As badly as he’d wanted to enter her, now he wanted to come inside her. Wanted, wanted. He tried to hold back, and the attempt almost made him scream again.
“No, no,” Raven said. “Don’t hold back. Come with me.”
Her voice rose sharply at the end. Reese put one hand behind her shoulders and lifted her off the bed, holding her so he could thrust harder. She closed her eyes, rolled her head back. “Oh, yes,” she said, through her own clenched teeth. “Oh, there, yes!”
Reese gave up all thought of control and simply fucked her, as hard and as fast as he could. It felt right. It felt like what she wanted. It was damn sure what he wanted. His strokes went shorter, faster. Her fingers flexed on his skin, driving him harder, holding him closer. He let himself get lost in the wonder of that, that Raven wanted him, wanted him inside her, wanted his pleasure within her. Her body clenched around him as her orgasm began and then he was utterly lost. He managed two more long strokes, and then he was coming, hard, screaming again as he did.
He collapsed onto her, into Raven’s arms, and she held him, stroked him. Her body still trembled around him. John felt like he was floating, out of his own body, utterly unhinged in rapture.
And he wanted her again, even before his cock went soft.
“Damn it, John,” Finch said roughly. There was a hand on his shoulder, a hard shove. “Move!”
Reese let himself fall off to the side. He rolled once, pulling Raven with him, making room on the far side of her for Finch. They were on the white sheets, he noticed. He didn’t remember who’d pulled back the bedspread and blankets. or when. It didn’t matter. Harold climbed onto the bed, laid on his back, and grabbed frantically for the woman. John helped her to sit up. She threw one leg over Harold’s, straddled him, the lowered herself onto his stiff pulsing cock.
They’d never done anything like this before, he and Harold. Nothing even close. But it didn’t matter. John had never seen anything more erotic in his life than watching his lover’s cock vanish into this woman’s ready, welcoming pussy. He stretched out next to them and watched intently. He watched the relief on Harold’s face when he was finally seated deeply inside her. He watched the joy that played over Raven’s expression while she let him rest there. She seemed so very pleased to have him inside her. Her hands stroked over Harold’s shoulders, over his chest, combed through the sparse covering of brown and silver hair there. Grazed over his nipples, which John knew were exceptionally sensitive. But she didn’t move, not yet. She recognized the sublime relief in him just to have entered her, and she let him revel in it.
John still couldn’t decide how old she was.
Harold made a small noise and she moved, up and back, small strokes, slowly. He groaned. Raven leaned forward and kissed him deeply. Reese watched their lips, caught glimpses of their tongues. Her hips continued to move slowly. Harold’s hand fell to the bed and his fingers began to clench and release the sheet in rhythm to her movement.
“More,” Harold whispered, pleaded.
The woman sat up, on her heels, and began moving in longer strokes on his cock.
Reese looked at her whole body for the first time. Her skin was impossibly white, as if she never left the house without a parasol. Her breasts were high, firm, and her nipples had remained hard and red. Her arms were smooth, limber, strong. Her waist tapered nicely, flared into smooth hips. The curve of her ass was just a little lavish, in perfect balance with her breasts. Her black hair flowed across her back, moved like a river with the motion of her body. She had a tiny navel, and below, just a small patch off black above her crease.
Harold’s cock appeared and disappeared behind that patch. His body trembled with desire, and his hips rose with her as well as they could. Higher on his right side than his left. For a fleeting instant Reese wished he could help, that Finch could thrust as well as he could. He leaned forward, then rolled back. There was no need. Raven would take care of him.
She moved faster, rising up on strong thighs, lowering herself to take that cock deep into her. John could feel Harold’s pleasure, could feel Raven’s. He reached over and took his lover’s hand. Finch’s fingers closed over his. They tightened and loosened with ever stroke. Harold turned his head and looked at him for one moment. John grinned encouragement.
Harold closed his eyes, moaned, pleaded wordlessly. Raven shortened her strokes, took him faster, just as John had taken her. She leaned forward again, claimed Harold’s mouth without reserve.
Finch’s hand crushed Reese’s, and his hips thrust upward sharply, and John watched as he came and came.
Harold’s hips collapsed onto the bed. Raven stayed on top of him, with his cock still inside her. They were both panting. She kissed him again, lingering.
She turned her head and looked at Reese.
His cock had been half-erect from watching them. The minute their eyes met, he was fully hard again. It wasn’t just a physical desire. It was a deep and urgent need. He had to fuck her again. Now.
Who the hell was she?
What was she doing to them?
“Come to me,” Raven invited. “Take me.”
Reese scrambled up. He had a brief moment of confusion; he didn’t want to make Finch leave her, but he had to be inside her, too. She was kneeling over Finch, her ankles next to his hips, her ass in the air. The answer was immediately obvious.
He knew how to do this. Finch said condoms weren’t necessary, and that ship had sailed now. But without lube? Reese glanced down at his cock, which was as erect and hard as if he’d been celibate for a year. Her fluids still glistened on it, slick, but so did his, sticky.
John looked at them again. Finch was still now, resting, his cock likely flaccid inside her. They were both looking at him patiently. Figure this out, he thought frantically. They want you to join them, figure this out. To share a woman with Finch, to be inside her with his partner, was an unbearably exciting idea. He just needed …
He moved to kneel behind Raven on the bed, between Harold’s calves. He put his hand on her back and pushed her gently; she obligingly leaned and kissed Finch again. He didn’t object. Reese reached down and cupped his partner’s balls for a moment, feeling their familiar weight, their texture. Then he straightened two fingers and slid them up along Harold’s cock, inside the woman’s pussy. She was still tight and slick. Both of them groaned in pleasure. He felt Harold’s cock twitch and begin to fill. He withdrew and thrust his fingers again and again, stroking both of them. Finch’s cock hardened, limiting his movement. He withdrew, used Raven’s own juices to slick his way as he teased around her other opening. He slipped his fingertip inside her ass, and then his whole finger.
She shuddered immediately in climax. Harold cried out as she clenched around him. John sensed that it took a huge effort for his partner to remain still. He bent his finger slightly toward her front, running it along the thin barrier that separated him from Harold’s cock. Then he withdrew and replaced one finger with two.
Finch thrust gently, unable to stop himself. Raven began to move, up and back, rutting against both of them. “Please,” she murmured. “Please.”
It was hugely gratifying to hear her plead. Reese didn’t have the self-control to hold out for more. He withdrew his fingers completely and moved up behind her, his knees between Harold’s outstretched legs, and pressed the head of his cock - already leaking pre-cum - against her opening. He moved forward very slowly.
Raven unexpectedly thrust back against him. He was suddenly sheathed deep within her ass, his cock parallel to Harold’s, separated only by a thin warm barrier. It was very tight, very hot. He pulled back and thrust again. His balls brushed against Finch’s.
He thought again that he was going to die of pleasure. What the hell had Harold said about that? Something about dying in bed … something … he couldn’t remember.
It didn’t matter.
Harold tried to move. Reese knew that thrusting from the bottom hurt his lover, later if not now, that it aggravated his old injury. But more to the point, in this configuration it wasn’t helpful. John leaned forward, pressing his back against Raven’s to kiss Harold’s mouth. The taste of the two of them together was heady, overpowering. “Be still,” he said clearly. “Let me do this.”
Finch opened his eyes and met his gaze. This close, Reese knew, he could see him without his glasses. He smiled, and Finch smiled back. A beautiful smile. He had never loved him more.
He sat back on his knees and took Raven’s hips between his hands. He held her still while he worked her, withdrawing, thrusting, feeling Harold, feeling her. He moved as slowly as he could. The woman protested, tried to move against him. He held her tight, and continued at a casual pace. Harold complained then, too. Reese knew his motion was driving the woman up and back on Finch’s cock as well. The slow thrusts were driving both of them to the edge.
He thrust, enjoying their pleasure, his pleasure. His power. His control.
Raven shuddered again. Harold cried out, his hips moving helplessly at the bottom of the pile. Suddenly Reese could not maintain his control. His own orgasm was there, a few strokes away. He drove hard, fast, fucking her, fucking Finch. He drove them over the edge, and then he followed them over. The room filled with the sounds of their climaxes.
Raven’s body continued to squeeze and tremble after both men were done, her contractions squeezing them almost past pleasure and into pain. Finally she slumped over Finch’s chest. Reese leaned over her, careful to keep his weight on his knees. He kissed Finch, and then Raven turned her head and he kissed her, too.
Finally, carefully, he withdrew. His lower legs were already over the end of the bed; he staggered to his feet. The woman rolled off Finch and sprawled on her back in the center of the bed. Harold simply stared at the ceiling, his face blank and blissful.
(Continued) Part 3 - http://caseym.livejournal.com/2151.html