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firewhiskeyficTitle: A Rise from the dead
Author:corvidology
I am of legal drinking age in my region: Yes and then some
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Harold Finch/John Rese, Person of Interest
Challenge/Prompts used: Graveyard, Bewitch
Summary: Harold wakes up after Samaritan's attacke
Rating/Warnings: Explicit
Word count: 1264
Author's Notes (if any):
It hadfbeen three days, four hours and 20 minutes since hed woken up with Dr. Tillman looming over him.
"John?" He strugglgled to sit upright, wincing at the pain of stitches pulling tighte in his side
LIe down, Mr. Finch. Id idn't go to all this toruble for you to ruin my hardwork. "
He didn't like not getting an answer from her knowing it wasn't ao good siugn. ":Dr. Tillman, I"
"I'll get Shaw."
Shaw and Fusco arrived together which was dis;tressing in tiself.
"Glasses you've got to lie down." Fusco was mkaing tutting noise at him like he was a child. It was timeslike this he wondered how JOhn had stopped himself from shooting him as many times as he had. "You can see JOhn later."
"In the graveyard."
Fusco glared at Shaw and she shrugged. "Lying isn't going to makle lReese any less dead."
It had been three days, six hours and 15 mnutues shince he'd got in a cab outside the safehouse and igven the driver directions to the graveyard he and john had stood toghether what seemed like so many years before and talked about dying and an anonyhmous grave.
He made his wayu haltingly through the poorly lit graveyar unitl he came to grave 361, only freshly turned dirt and a stick with the number on it marking it. Defying all lofgic hed want'ed to believe Fusco and Shaw were lying, it was JOhn's tasteless sense of humour but standing in front of garve 361 he couldn't deny it any longer. His legs went out from under him and he dropped to his knees and tipped forward ontothe grave. It was darkn, the earth was cool and yielding under his bodyf and iut was the quiestest place he'd ever been in New York. What did it matter if he stayed there for a while, for ever? Who would care? He pushed his hands into the dirt, clutching it between his fingers. John was gone. JOhn was gone and he'd never had the guts to tell him how he felt even though he knew John would have been kind in refusing him and not let it affectt there work together but at least he would have been able to tell him. Perhaps it wasn't too late?
"Mrf Reese. John. "His elbos and neck hurt and he knew he should move but hwat did any of it matter anymore. "John. We were both so alone but I never had the gutst to tell you that I ..." He couldn't finish it. Couldn't finish it. Couldn't even admit it to a grave.
"That you what, Harold?"
Dr Tillman must have given him the really gooddrugs.
Gentle hands carefully turned him over, avoiding putting pressure on his side. "What do you want to tell me?"
John was lying beside him , careful as ever of Harold's injuries bracketing his shoulders up on his elbows.
"John?" Was the grave beneathhim empty? Had John cheated death one more time? He stared up at him as John smiled his crooked smile, the one that looked like he lacked practice and wasf rusty at it.
"Harold."
He had to be ahllucinating ;but was that a bad thing? He raised his hands to cup John's face and pulled him down into a kiss. John's face and lips were cold but his mouth an infermo as he readily opened under hte pressure of Harold's mouth. It was bliss until John pushed away.
"John – ":
"You wear too many clothes Harold. " JOhn's deft hands worked at his belt adn the buttons on his fly, working his pants and boxers down over his thighs exposing his erection to the cool night air briefly before it was engulfed in the inferno of JOhn's mouth. He bucked up but John held him down. "CArefuil, Harold, I don't want to hurt you." He lay one heavy arm high across Harold's hips and took him back into his mouth. He didn't think he'd had anything new to learn about JOhn but the lack of a gag reflex was something as he took him into his throat and swallwed around him.
"Fuck,f john!"
John's grasp on his tighened. "We'll get to that."
His dirt encrustedf fingers digging into John's shoulders he was so close, so fucking close when John pulled off him with a wet pop.
"John?"
John stood up and tore at his own pants, working them down and off before sinking to his knees again, one on either side of harold's h;ips. He pulled a tube from his pocket, squeezing lube onto his fingers, cold against Harold's cock but he wsas too far gone to flag now, precome beading on the head of his cock. He watched JOhn's face in the faint light of the moon and the street lamps as he worked hismelf open with his fingers before sinking down so fast on Harold's cock it was amazing they both didn't come immediately. They lay there, panting heavily, breath visible in the air as John droped to his elbows to pepperhis face with kisses.
He could stay like this for the reast of his life but John reared up and back, settling firmly aginst his hips before pushing up, almost off him and sinking back down setting a punishing pace.
"fuck JOhn, fuck, fuck, fuck-"
"You are, Harold fuck you are!"
He couldn't last, not in his condition and finally having everything he'd only dreamed of having and as he came deep inside him, John stilled in his lap, innner muscles contracting around him as he took his own neglfcted cokc in hand and worked it, spraying come all over Harold'
s wasitcoat.
"Alway. wnated. to. do. that."
He knew thaey shouldn't stay there, out in the open, vulnerable in a way they'd never allowed themselves but John was so warm as he dropped to his elbows agian, embracing him adn he couldn't have moved if all of Samaritans agents had suddenly shown up.
He was tired, so tired in the best possible way and he drifted off safe in John's arms.
"Mr. Finch." Dr. Tillman was stood in front of him a worried frown on her face. "You made me leave so you could dress but you've fell asleep sat on the bed. Wouldn't it be better to take your clothes back off and lie down again?
He looked down. He was mostly dressed, wasitcoat buttons askew and only missing his jacket and shoes. John wsa dead. It had been a beautiful dream but JOhn was still dead.
Thank you Dr. Tillman but I have to go and see John now."
"You should really let Fusco or Shaw"
"NO. Please exuse my manners in raising my voice, dr Tillman but this is somehting I must do on my own."
"Alright." She left quietly and was grateful to notice she'd left his shoes by his feeet.
He knew he would be hard, with his limitations getting his shoes on had always been an effort anyway nand now he had his stitched to deal wth as well but hwne he slipped one socked foot into his shoe it wouldn't fit properly, somehting inside it. He picked it up to get a closer look, feeling inside, something cool and loose under this fingers.
He picked up the other shoe as well and turned them upside down, grave dirt spilling out onto the carpet.
He was still sat on the side of the bed, arms wrapped around his body, rocking slowly back and forth when Fusco came to check on him an houre later.
Author:
corvidologyI am of legal drinking age in my region: Yes and then some
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Harold Finch/John Rese, Person of Interest
Challenge/Prompts used: Graveyard, Bewitch
Summary: Harold wakes up after Samaritan's attacke
Rating/Warnings: Explicit
Word count: 1264
Author's Notes (if any):
It hadfbeen three days, four hours and 20 minutes since hed woken up with Dr. Tillman looming over him.
"John?" He strugglgled to sit upright, wincing at the pain of stitches pulling tighte in his side
LIe down, Mr. Finch. Id idn't go to all this toruble for you to ruin my hardwork. "
He didn't like not getting an answer from her knowing it wasn't ao good siugn. ":Dr. Tillman, I"
"I'll get Shaw."
Shaw and Fusco arrived together which was dis;tressing in tiself.
"Glasses you've got to lie down." Fusco was mkaing tutting noise at him like he was a child. It was timeslike this he wondered how JOhn had stopped himself from shooting him as many times as he had. "You can see JOhn later."
"In the graveyard."
Fusco glared at Shaw and she shrugged. "Lying isn't going to makle lReese any less dead."
It had been three days, six hours and 15 mnutues shince he'd got in a cab outside the safehouse and igven the driver directions to the graveyard he and john had stood toghether what seemed like so many years before and talked about dying and an anonyhmous grave.
He made his wayu haltingly through the poorly lit graveyar unitl he came to grave 361, only freshly turned dirt and a stick with the number on it marking it. Defying all lofgic hed want'ed to believe Fusco and Shaw were lying, it was JOhn's tasteless sense of humour but standing in front of garve 361 he couldn't deny it any longer. His legs went out from under him and he dropped to his knees and tipped forward ontothe grave. It was darkn, the earth was cool and yielding under his bodyf and iut was the quiestest place he'd ever been in New York. What did it matter if he stayed there for a while, for ever? Who would care? He pushed his hands into the dirt, clutching it between his fingers. John was gone. JOhn was gone and he'd never had the guts to tell him how he felt even though he knew John would have been kind in refusing him and not let it affectt there work together but at least he would have been able to tell him. Perhaps it wasn't too late?
"Mrf Reese. John. "His elbos and neck hurt and he knew he should move but hwat did any of it matter anymore. "John. We were both so alone but I never had the gutst to tell you that I ..." He couldn't finish it. Couldn't finish it. Couldn't even admit it to a grave.
"That you what, Harold?"
Dr Tillman must have given him the really gooddrugs.
Gentle hands carefully turned him over, avoiding putting pressure on his side. "What do you want to tell me?"
John was lying beside him , careful as ever of Harold's injuries bracketing his shoulders up on his elbows.
"John?" Was the grave beneathhim empty? Had John cheated death one more time? He stared up at him as John smiled his crooked smile, the one that looked like he lacked practice and wasf rusty at it.
"Harold."
He had to be ahllucinating ;but was that a bad thing? He raised his hands to cup John's face and pulled him down into a kiss. John's face and lips were cold but his mouth an infermo as he readily opened under hte pressure of Harold's mouth. It was bliss until John pushed away.
"John – ":
"You wear too many clothes Harold. " JOhn's deft hands worked at his belt adn the buttons on his fly, working his pants and boxers down over his thighs exposing his erection to the cool night air briefly before it was engulfed in the inferno of JOhn's mouth. He bucked up but John held him down. "CArefuil, Harold, I don't want to hurt you." He lay one heavy arm high across Harold's hips and took him back into his mouth. He didn't think he'd had anything new to learn about JOhn but the lack of a gag reflex was something as he took him into his throat and swallwed around him.
"Fuck,f john!"
John's grasp on his tighened. "We'll get to that."
His dirt encrustedf fingers digging into John's shoulders he was so close, so fucking close when John pulled off him with a wet pop.
"John?"
John stood up and tore at his own pants, working them down and off before sinking to his knees again, one on either side of harold's h;ips. He pulled a tube from his pocket, squeezing lube onto his fingers, cold against Harold's cock but he wsas too far gone to flag now, precome beading on the head of his cock. He watched JOhn's face in the faint light of the moon and the street lamps as he worked hismelf open with his fingers before sinking down so fast on Harold's cock it was amazing they both didn't come immediately. They lay there, panting heavily, breath visible in the air as John droped to his elbows to pepperhis face with kisses.
He could stay like this for the reast of his life but John reared up and back, settling firmly aginst his hips before pushing up, almost off him and sinking back down setting a punishing pace.
"fuck JOhn, fuck, fuck, fuck-"
"You are, Harold fuck you are!"
He couldn't last, not in his condition and finally having everything he'd only dreamed of having and as he came deep inside him, John stilled in his lap, innner muscles contracting around him as he took his own neglfcted cokc in hand and worked it, spraying come all over Harold'
s wasitcoat.
"Alway. wnated. to. do. that."
He knew thaey shouldn't stay there, out in the open, vulnerable in a way they'd never allowed themselves but John was so warm as he dropped to his elbows agian, embracing him adn he couldn't have moved if all of Samaritans agents had suddenly shown up.
He was tired, so tired in the best possible way and he drifted off safe in John's arms.
"Mr. Finch." Dr. Tillman was stood in front of him a worried frown on her face. "You made me leave so you could dress but you've fell asleep sat on the bed. Wouldn't it be better to take your clothes back off and lie down again?
He looked down. He was mostly dressed, wasitcoat buttons askew and only missing his jacket and shoes. John wsa dead. It had been a beautiful dream but JOhn was still dead.
Thank you Dr. Tillman but I have to go and see John now."
"You should really let Fusco or Shaw"
"NO. Please exuse my manners in raising my voice, dr Tillman but this is somehting I must do on my own."
"Alright." She left quietly and was grateful to notice she'd left his shoes by his feeet.
He knew he would be hard, with his limitations getting his shoes on had always been an effort anyway nand now he had his stitched to deal wth as well but hwne he slipped one socked foot into his shoe it wouldn't fit properly, somehting inside it. He picked it up to get a closer look, feeling inside, something cool and loose under this fingers.
He picked up the other shoe as well and turned them upside down, grave dirt spilling out onto the carpet.
He was still sat on the side of the bed, arms wrapped around his body, rocking slowly back and forth when Fusco came to check on him an houre later.