Person of Interest Ficlet: Service
***
Title: Service
Author: Mistress Kat / kat_lair
Fandom: Person of Interest
Pairing: Finch/Reese
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 515
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.
Summary: John wants to stuff his mouth until he chokes, wants to drool and gag, to cry from it. Sometimes Harold lets him. Not this time.
Author notes: Was watching POI a few nights ago whilst chatting to pushkin666 on IM. Then I apparently blew her brains out with this. Tidied up from the IM convo, this is nothing but a PWP.
Harold doesn’t fuck John's mouth as often as John would like. Instead he lets - lets, not demands, but instead allows, gives permission, sometimes invites even - John do all the work. After all, it’s a privilege and John knows it.
Harold sits there, in his finely tailored layers, all still and proper and in command, and watches John fall to his knees, watches the way his hands tremble, the way his breath stutters on the exhale, listens to him not ask if what he’s doing is okay because he knows Harold will tell him if he does something not wanted.
John loves it like this too; showing off just how skilfully he can undo belt and buttons, rubs his open mouth again the soft wool of Harold's trousers, not hiding at all how much he wants it. He nuzzles Harold's cock through his silk boxers, enough to get him fully hard but not so much that he'll start leaking because he knows Harold doesn’t like the mess.
Eventually, Harold lifts his hips slightly, with difficulty; his one concession for helping John out. He sighs when John takes him into his mouth, lets the pleasure relax him.
John is careful, uses all his talents to make it good; slow but not too slow, not as sloppy as he'd like either. John wants to stuff his mouth until he chokes, wants to drool and gag, to cry from it. Sometimes Harold lets him. Not this time.
When he's close to coming Harold reaches out with two fingers, not to warn John, no, because by now John can tell when Harold is about to come, but to simply touch him, to trace the short hairs at his temples, the sharp dip of his hollowed cheek, the stretch of mouth around Harold's cock. He makes a noise then, John does, a half-choked whine that makes Harold push his fingers into John's mouth, shoving them in there, hard and blunt alongside his cock.
John is louder than he thinks he is. If he's honest with himself - and Harold always is, he's got precious little else left - he has intimated he wants John quiet because he likes how hard John tries to suppress the sounds he makes, how badly he fails without realising.
John is achingly hard, just from this, from the weight of Harold's cock on his tongue, from being of service, of use, but he won't reach for himself. Harold doesn't like John to mess his own suits either. When Harold finally comes he makes a soft sound, a low hum that cuts straight through John's spine, makes him shudder and swallow around the bittersweet salt flooding his mouth.
He holds Harold until he grows soft again, then cleans him with small cautious licks, catching everything before tucking him back and carefully doing up his trousers. Harold's hand stays pressed against his face the whole time, fingers ghosting his skin, petting his hair. His 'thank you, John' is quiet, sincere, pleased, and John rests his face against Harold's knee, basking in the approval, secure in his place at Harold’s feet.
***
Title: Service
Author: Mistress Kat / kat_lair
Fandom: Person of Interest
Pairing: Finch/Reese
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 515
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.
Summary: John wants to stuff his mouth until he chokes, wants to drool and gag, to cry from it. Sometimes Harold lets him. Not this time.
Author notes: Was watching POI a few nights ago whilst chatting to pushkin666 on IM. Then I apparently blew her brains out with this. Tidied up from the IM convo, this is nothing but a PWP.
Harold doesn’t fuck John's mouth as often as John would like. Instead he lets - lets, not demands, but instead allows, gives permission, sometimes invites even - John do all the work. After all, it’s a privilege and John knows it.
Harold sits there, in his finely tailored layers, all still and proper and in command, and watches John fall to his knees, watches the way his hands tremble, the way his breath stutters on the exhale, listens to him not ask if what he’s doing is okay because he knows Harold will tell him if he does something not wanted.
John loves it like this too; showing off just how skilfully he can undo belt and buttons, rubs his open mouth again the soft wool of Harold's trousers, not hiding at all how much he wants it. He nuzzles Harold's cock through his silk boxers, enough to get him fully hard but not so much that he'll start leaking because he knows Harold doesn’t like the mess.
Eventually, Harold lifts his hips slightly, with difficulty; his one concession for helping John out. He sighs when John takes him into his mouth, lets the pleasure relax him.
John is careful, uses all his talents to make it good; slow but not too slow, not as sloppy as he'd like either. John wants to stuff his mouth until he chokes, wants to drool and gag, to cry from it. Sometimes Harold lets him. Not this time.
When he's close to coming Harold reaches out with two fingers, not to warn John, no, because by now John can tell when Harold is about to come, but to simply touch him, to trace the short hairs at his temples, the sharp dip of his hollowed cheek, the stretch of mouth around Harold's cock. He makes a noise then, John does, a half-choked whine that makes Harold push his fingers into John's mouth, shoving them in there, hard and blunt alongside his cock.
John is louder than he thinks he is. If he's honest with himself - and Harold always is, he's got precious little else left - he has intimated he wants John quiet because he likes how hard John tries to suppress the sounds he makes, how badly he fails without realising.
John is achingly hard, just from this, from the weight of Harold's cock on his tongue, from being of service, of use, but he won't reach for himself. Harold doesn't like John to mess his own suits either. When Harold finally comes he makes a soft sound, a low hum that cuts straight through John's spine, makes him shudder and swallow around the bittersweet salt flooding his mouth.
He holds Harold until he grows soft again, then cleans him with small cautious licks, catching everything before tucking him back and carefully doing up his trousers. Harold's hand stays pressed against his face the whole time, fingers ghosting his skin, petting his hair. His 'thank you, John' is quiet, sincere, pleased, and John rests his face against Harold's knee, basking in the approval, secure in his place at Harold’s feet.
***