Disclaimer: I don't own "V for Vendetta" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Finch and Dominic has been a favorite pairing of mine since the movie came out. It is around that time of year to start writing more for the pairing! – Set post movie. – Part I of the "Tethered and Tight" series.

Warnings: sentinel and guide, sentinel!au, sexual tension, romantic tension, angst, drama, romance, post traumatic stress disorder, hurt and comfort, canon typical homophobia, first time, sexual content.

Tether me (and hold on tight)

Chapter One

Being a Sentinel wasn't illegal.

That being said, they weren't exactly embraced either.

Sentinels were considered hard to control. More loyal to their Guide than the Government. Even the ones in high standing in the party, like himself. They often saw their careers stalled. Passed over for advancement in favor of those who were neither Sentinel nor Guide. People who could be managed. Trusted. It was just a fact of life. And more to the point, he'd never been one for climbing the ladder. He just wanted to do his job. To protect people. To keep the small section of territory he'd claimed - his department, his city - safe.

So, when another promotion was snatched from under him like just another rug, well- he was used to it. Just the same as he was resigned to the near constant stream of unbonded Guides that were tossed his way like sacrificial lambs the longer he remained alone. They were all party approved, of course. All in the hopes they could tie him to someone who could control him, for the good of the party.

It was a foolish plan, of course. Which they'd know if anyone in the higher echelons were Sentinels or Guides. Because it didn't work that way. Bonded pairs were fated. Perfect for each other down to the cellular level. Once met, there was no one more important. No one more essential. He'd seen out of control Sentinels slaughter Fingermen for daring to touch their Guide. Loyal party members who suddenly betrayed the party without warning when they found their Guide and said Guide happened to be a political radical. It was why there weren't many bonded pairs left. They tended to go missing. As far as being stuffed under a black hood could be considered missing.

At least, that's what he'd heard.

Given he'd never met his.

At this point, he was sure he was considered quite defective, in fact.

So, when he was introduced to his newest partner, a young, polished looking spit of a man who was absolutely his Guide, he bit down on the inside of his cheek until it bled and said nothing. Protecting them both by not reaching for him. By not having him. By not even scenting him right there and then as the newly-minted Chief Inspector roostered about.

It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. But it was nothing compared to the slow, throttled realization that washed over his Guide's face. Recognizing him for what he was right in the middle of the god damned bull pen.

He led the way to his office - their office - aware of the cameras and watchful eyes. Certain he hadn't caused any suspicion he couldn't recover from as every inch of him ached. The self-control was fleeting. Because even now he couldn't find a way out of the churning need to know him. To touch, taste, scent and just-

"And Finch? Do try not to run this one off... least until next quarter."

He barely heard the gag cracked his way from the Chief Inspector. Barely heard the thin raft of laughter that followed. His palms were wet with sweat. Already so far into the pre-bonding haze that he could have sunk his teeth in the prick's neck for the assumption.

"Sir?"

Distantly, he was aware this was the dangerous part. Party politics aside, this was the time where the Sentinel needed to imprint on their Guide. It was instinctual. Unavoidable. And because of that, it was also the part in the movies where a Sentinel might have their Guide in full view of the public. Hiking up the smart, pencil skirt of some gorgeous bird just to feel her. Imprinting touch, taste and smell by dragging their nose down their Guide's throat. Teasing the claim that would be made later. Or perhaps right there, with everyone watching.

The feeling of the metal knob against his skin was revulsion in real time. Suddenly able to feel every minuscule divot in the metal. Hearing shorting out on him like a dying wire as the catch - click - creak of the door made his throat work through a gag.

"It's an honor to work with you, sir. Everyone says you're the best."

His Guide's heartbeat picked up as they made it through the door. But that just made it worse. Because the excitement, confusion and fear was enough to have the Sentinel in him prickling. Sensing danger. Wanting to protect. Soothe. Have.

"I'll get the door, Inspector. There we are."

He'd seen one of those movies once. His school friends had dragged him out for a midnight double-feature. It had been long before the party. Long before the Ministry of Objectionable Materials. Long before curfew. And just over three years before he presented as a Sentinel. It had been the second movie, not the one his friends wanted to see, that'd captured him. His interest hadn't made sense until later, but he never forgot the scene where the Sentinel came across their Guide in the middle of a heist. Instead of a slim frame and soft breasts, the Guide had been another bloke. He'd never seen anything like it. It put shivers through him. Excitement that was so close to pleasure they were one and the same. The moment it happened was overly dramatized and cheesy, but damn if he wasn't far from doing the same. Mad enough to think slamming the man into the wall and grinding his cock into his thigh was a good idea.

His Guide was still talking as he staggered through the door. Somehow having the control he lacked not to make a scene as fever-heat flared down his skin like a rash. Only realizing he was shaking when his hand came up to push back his hair.

Christ. He'd had no idea.

Not a single fucking clue.

Because every part of him was focused on the man behind him.

Which was another problem.

Because his Guide was a bloke.

All that combined, he'd never been in more danger.

Because while he didn't care, he never had, the party did.

A Sentinel and Guide pair in his profession was bad enough.

But if the Sentinel and Guide were the same sex?

They'd be bagged before they could bond.

It was only when the door closed that he swallowed the wash of blood in his mouth. A mistake, he realized almost immediately. Because with his Guide so near, so new, he could taste everything. His usual controls were completely and hissing to static. Suddenly understanding what they meant, about how a Guide changed everything. Because he'd never felt anything like this. The world might as well have cracked in half and put itself on offer. His Guide wasn't even focusing on him and every one of his senses was razor sharp. Ready. The only problem was, there was a steep learning curve and he couldn't-

He wavered against the door. Instinctively focusing on the iron tang of his blood. On the flavor of the coffee that had been there previously. The way it coated the backside of his teeth. His holster scraped against the door handle, making him flinch. Loud. Loud. It was too loud. His Guide exhaled distress, saturating him in scent. He fixated on it greedily, forgetting why he couldn't. Letting go of a low, calming sound that got stuck in his ears. Vibrating until he could feel it in his bones, and-

"Sir?"

He'd almost zoned out completely when the man grabbed his hand, squeezing gently. Using the jacket slung over his arm to hide it. Slowly bringing him back as they stood there in the middle of the office, staring at each other. Everything they felt, everything they couldn't say, alive on their faces. Eons passed. Seconds. Forced to adapt when his Guide slowly eased his hand free and hung his coat on the coat rack.

The message was silent, but clear.

Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

He blinked, unsure of how much time had passed when his attention snapped back to the present. Realizing that his Guide was chattering on about nothing in particular and likely had been for some time. To anyone listening it would sound like they were getting acquainted. In reality, it served another important purpose. Grounding him with his voice as he eased into his chair and opened a random file on his computer. Biting down on a desperate whine by the skin of his teeth when his Guide sat down at the desk across from him. So far away it hurt.

"Stone," he finally gritted. Forcing his voice to stay level as he clipped out what he'd planned before all this. Right pissed about being saddled with a fetus right out of the academy. "I don't have much need of a partner. But if you're planning on making yourself useful, I suggest you start on the cold case files. It's where you'll stay until I'm sure you aren't going to shoot your own bollocks off in the field. Understand?

Dominic's eyes promised him everything.

And that was what he clung to as the hours passed in a sluggish daze.

It was enough.

It would have to be.

They didn't have another choice.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! – There will be more to come!