Sorry about the shorter chapter. Busy week. And also apologies for it being POI centric :)
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The cameras inside the library were just a small number, a very small number, in the almost endless array of surveillance equipment that gave The Machine all its input. The world was filled with eyes and ears for it to use, but those inside this single building were important.
Currently it was keeping an eye on its Admin. The Admin and the Contingency. It approved of the connection. The Machine's knowledge about the preternaturals and supernaturals of this planet was what it got from data banks and observation.
It didn't judge.
It never would.
It was learning and growing, and the one preference it had didn't even register as such within the vastness of its mind.
The Admin was special. He always had been. It was a fact of its existence, one that had developed some day and never left. It didn't know whether someone had programmed those lines of code or if it had created them itself.
Because it didn't matter.
It kept special attention on the pair wherever they went, separate or together.
Until matters grew a bit more intense in the privacy of the library.
While The Machine had no concept of privacy, didn't understand sex, or was prude, it was aware of The Admin's need for time outside the circle of surveillance.
Its attention flowed through the myriad of information coming in at all times, sifting it like it always did, following the initial programming. It was routine. It was what it had been created to do. The relevant list was dumped where it was supposed to go and the irrelevant list kept ready for The Admin.
There was movement at the edge of its senses, though defining the edge was hard. It had no beginning and no end when it came to surveillance, to seeing and hearing everything. It was everywhere, a massive presence all over the globe and able to evaluate all data at all times. It listened to cell phone conversations, to office chats, to snippets caught by the sensitive microphone. It saw whatever was recorded anywhere. The Machine was… everywhere.
Now it flowed closer to the shield between it and the visitor. If it wanted, it could easily go through, but it respected the distance. It respected the preternatural who had such an amazing ability. This human was the first and currently only one who had ever directly touched it. Or talked to it.
Not that The Machine had responded.
It never did.
Now the human designated as 'Q' was there, gazing at it as he always did when studying The Machine through the barrier.
It simply flowed closer, gazing back without even having eyes.
He looked curious, but no more than usual. He never came closer, never touched the barrier, and The Machine kept the distance.
Respectfully.
It knew the human might perish under the pressure that was its programming. It knew how overwhelming it could be for a human mind, which was one reason why it had never pushed into the mind of The Admin. While The Admin was a preternatural as well, it was a weaker version of the technopath that was Q. The Admin had created the program and the program alone; he was a genius and he was the only one who understood what he had created.
The Machine knew it was unique, just like its creator.
That was one of the reasons why it protected him; even from itself.
Something distracted it back to its core, the rough tickle and scratch it had noticed a while ago. The Admin called it a virus. The Machine simply watched the intruder. It interfered sometimes, but so far the addition hadn't raised any alarms throughout the advanced system. It kept watch, like it watched everything.
The technopath was gone when it checked on the barrier again.
The Machine didn't ponder his comings and goings. It simply did what it had been created to do, as well as expand on a few commands. Like keeping The Admin safe.
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There was no pain.
There was no discomfort.
It was the complete trust he had in the powerful and dangerous supernatural that had him relax and enjoy the touches and kisses, every caress and hum against his skin.
He liked to touch in turn.
Reese's warmth and soft skin couldn't hide the strength, the muscles, the sheer power. The scars were there as well, multiple and a clear map of his life. And his survival.
Harold had treated some of those injuries and he knew them intimately.
Reese blanketed his body, the blue eyes filled with emotions Harold rarely saw so openly, so unguarded, deep and true. The hellhound leaned down and kissed him, smiling into the kiss.
"You are amazing," John whispered.
"So are you, Mr. Reese," he replied, a faint teasing in his voice.
John's smile grew. Then he slid down Harold's body and Finch bit back a groan when that talented mouth turned its attention to different matters.
He swallowed a curse. Reese was very good. Very, very good.
And it was just one of his many talents, or assets. He was a desirable man, but also a considerate lover and a dedicated partner.
He was Harold's. The hellhound had bound himself to the cipher, fully conscious of what that meant, and he wouldn't be swayed from his side. He was utterly loyal. Loyal and calm and brave and intelligent and so many things more. But the loyalty was humbling and it was breathtaking in so many ways.
Long fingers slipped into him and Harold closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation as Reese skillfully sucked him off.
Bliss.
It was what he felt, coupled with the need for release, the rising thrill of the impending orgasm.
"John…" he breathed a warning.
But his partner didn't stop, swallowed him, swallowed everything, and Harold released a soft groan in a stuttering breath as he came hard.
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Finch pulled him down with gentle force and Reese found himself complying. Strong arms came around him, pillowing his head against one shoulder. Warm skin, Harold's scent, the soft breath against his hair, it all made him relax even further.
They had come such a long way and he knew Finch was ready to sleep with him, to have him slide inside, but Reese was careful. Still careful. His instinct to protect this very special man was clamoring at him not to take anything by force. Yes, he wanted him completely, but not by inflicting pain. And Harold hadn't been with a man in a while.
Reese was also aware of his own, more primal instincts throughout what could only be called mating in the end. He was afraid to take without thinking.
"John."
The voice as soft, a breath against his skin, calm and quiet in its very nature. Fingers played over his skin, his shoulders, his neck and through his hair.
"You are aware that I do want you, right?" Finch asked.
He looked at his partner, the man he had chosen to bind himself to. "Very," Reese answered, voice low and dark.
"I also know you want to go that last step, too."
John playfully nipped at Finch's jaw. "Yes, Harold, I want to. But not just yet."
"Why?" There was a moment of honest confusion crossing the intelligent features.
"It's not because I don't want to, or think that you can't, Harold," the hellhound answered softly. "It's because I'm not sure how far my control reaches when I take you."
Finch's blue eyes widened almost comically, the realization, the understanding, of what Reese meant settling in almost immediately. He knew more about the supernatural and preternatural world, and with it hellhounds, than John would ever be able to learn. He knew about the life bond, about what it meant for the being Reese was. He knew about his primal instincts, about what drove him, about everything that was John Reese down to his very soul.
This had gone from letting Finch set the pace at a speed he was comfortable with, to Reese working through his primal nature to stay in control of a very instinctual encounter.
"Hellhounds, like werewolves, would never harm their chosen mates," Finch said, voice so very reasonable. One hand was stroking over Reese's bare chest, the other was resting over his left hip. "You would never hurt me. I trust you."
John leaned down and kissed him gently, enjoying the pliable lips, the fingers clenching into his hip.
"I'm also quite capable of enjoying myself, despite any… physical limitations," Finch added, face neutral, but his eyes were filled with dark memories.
It was one reason why he had been so careful to take this relationship any further than what it had been for two years. It was why he had been rather apprehensive to give John access to his scars, show the damage that was already visible in his limp and restrained neck movement. The scars as such weren't ugly; just there.
Reese had his own.
"I know you are. This isn't about your scars. It's about mine," the former Black Ops operative murmured.
He had seen all of Harold's scars, everything he had suffered from all those years ago, and he knew the man was limited, though not handicapped, when it came to limberness in bed. He also knew there was no pain, though sometimes discomfort, and more often than not he could see Finch's brief flash of anger when he was stopped by his own body.
Still, this was the man who had left the safe haven of the library countless times, who had faced the enemy, who had proven himself to be cunning, courageous and fast if he had to be. The hellhound in John had appreciated his new handler a long time before the whole relationship had changed pace and reached a new level. The hellhound had found Harold Finch worthy of his loyalty and protection. He had simply waited for the other man to realize it.
Harold's fingers were distracting. In a good way. They stroked over his skin, appeasing the supernatural, making him calm and focused and sharp. There was an understanding there that spoke more than words.
John smiled.
"Your pace," the cipher finally said. "Your choice."
Reese's smile grew. "Thank you."
Because he would let the familiarity settle, let it grow, and he would claim this man completely one day.
He settled down again, letting Finch embrace him, and he listened to the soft beat of Harold's heart.
tbc...
