Chapter Fifteen (What's It All About, Alfie?...) SEMI-ADULT THEMES..NO MINORS PLEASE.

Harold Finch moved ever so carefully forward, uncertain in his own mind as yet, if he should even proceed with this incredulous..farce.

And yet, the alternative was unthinkable, apparently, since he could not simply, let the subject rest. He had not been able to walk away.

He watched Cordelia Fellows warily, although his expression was quite neutral, carefully masked from any scrutiny from the gravely quiet woman who stood before him. He imagined, she was feeling many of the emotions he was.

He didn't envy her that.

The emerald eyes blinked up at him solemnly. She seemed to be waiting for something of monumental importance to occur.

Indeed, Cordelia was overly anxious, her mood verging on apprehensive. She waited on pins and needles for his decision. One she knew she must live with regardless of the outcome.

She had always guarded her heart most diligently but there was just something about this man standing so very close now, that..shattered her carefully constructed protective walls. His scent surrounded her mind, filling her with delectable visions of..soft candle light and nights on sandy beaches.

She could not have pin-pointed a particular time when the emotional attachment had begun. Cordelia was 'aware' of Harold Finch from the first moment of meeting face to face. She could not think of that time without being mortified.

That he so closely mimicked the traits of her own creation, Garrison Starling, had to be a total coincidence, surely.

Besides, Cordelia Fellows had always been able to step outside her own creative process, viewing any story she wrote with total objectivity.

The last idea she envisioned had been approached differently, it was true, so perhaps that had something to do with what was happening to her now.

"You are shivering." Finch had noted long since, the fact irritating him. "Please." He motioned for her to cross to the bed. She seemed not to understand his drift for a long moment, looking forlornly at the structure but then she..moved off, at length, sitting on the side of the bed, pulling the shawl closer about her small frame.

Harold motioned yet again, for her to turn about, lifting the covers, tucking her feet into the bundled fluff after a fashion.

Cordelia allowed the 'stall tactics' but a burning question stood between them. She grasped the blankets to her abdomen, her hands knotted tightly, her stare an abject one. "…Do you like me at all, Mr. Finch?" and even though it had been stated ever so simplistically, that was the exact crux of the matter for her.

The emerald eyes flicked his face urgently, awaiting his verdict.

Harold sat on the side of the bed, taking his time in answering such a direct inquiry. He looked at her almost blankly. "…Yes, actually." He nodded as if the realization shocked him. "I do. In a bizarre, bohemian sort of way." That much was true, he supposed. Then he rephrased, for it had sounded too flippant and he had not meant to be so, for she had approached him in all sincerity, he thought.

"..Perhaps it is wrong of me to admit such a failing." He conceded as much, feeling his inadequacies…deeply. He checked on her again, but he could not get a good 'read'. He continued. "..You are vital young woman who should not be wasting her time and energies on someone like me.." he silenced her objections with a lifted hand. "But..I am very pleased that you seem wish do so. If that is ..wrong, then," he shrugged minutely. "there you have it."

Cordelia was..stunned, unsure of what he had just said..or what it meant in the larger scheme of things. She simply did not trust the man as yet, not with her inner most emotions. Was he playing one of his insidiously nefarious mind games with her? She had watched him do it with others.

Harold straightened his frame, his hands placed on his knees. Sitting facing her was kinking his back. He welcomed the reprieve, lifting his head a tad, staring off into space. He missed his glasses which he had left on the computer station stand.

The room was dark, lit only by the shaft of moonlight streaking across the carpet directly in front of him. He studied the patterns of fleur de les prints on the thick rug for a long moment. "..Grace.."

Cordelia moved imperceptivity, at his side in a fraction of a second. She placed her fingers to his lips which startled the man. Finch searched her out instantly, leaning away from the contact, not that it had offended him, not in the least.

He could still feel the imprint of the warm appendages, in fact. He stared at the pretty face, which was no hardship, certainly, his infamous mind, blank.

"Grace isn't here, Mr. Finch." Cordelia spoke quietly. "I am and I'm glad. If that is wrong..then, there you have it."

Finch processed all she had said but more so, the implications of such a softly stated response.

"Don't you think it's odd." He wondered over the dilemma. "Referring to me in such a fashion..when we are.." he motioned with his head minutely. "As we are?"

Cordelia scowled darkly. "..No."

"Don't you like my given name?" He pondered her reaction, intrigued by it.

The woman seemed hard pressed to answer such a question but in the end.. "It..doesn't suit you."

Finch continued to stare at her, his chaotic mind ticking away. "How perceptive of you. I thought it most apropos, you see..at the time."

Cordelia was confused. "I'm not sure I understand what you.."

"..It isn't my true name." Harold Finch..mulled over the fact thoughtfully for a long beat.

The woman seemed accept such a statement without reserve.

"..Aren't you going to inquire as to what it might be?" he leaned back slightly, searching her out, his expression a bemused one.

She shook the long tresses, the silk flowing gently about her temples and cheek lines. "You're..Mr. Finch. Which is..as it should be."

She sit back on her hunches, taking the blanket between her fingers, pleating and re-pleating the cotton sheet as she spoke. "Why did you..do what you did?" she had to know, lifting her eyes but quickly lowering them from the intense stare that robbed her of any real conviction she had possessed to that time. "..I mean." She quirked her head slightly, swallowing hard. "..Before."

Finch did not pretend to misunderstand. "Do you wish the truth or simple platitudes. I am rather good at both, actually." And, he was. But, he hoped she would choose the former, for he didn't want to go that route with this woman. "..I have found, in past dealings with the female persuasion, that it is advisable to..placate. That no one really wishes the truth concerning such things."

Cordelia appeared calmly collected however, the large eyes refusing to look at him just yet though.

"Delia..you are a beautiful woman. Any male in his right mind would not be adverse to the attention you lavished upon me." He told his side of the tale. "It has been a very long time since anyone of your caliber has even noticed me, let alone..." he thought it best not to put things into actual words in this case.

She frowned over at him but quickly enough, went back to her pastime of pleating the bed sheet. Was he lying to her? Who would not notice a man like Mr. Finch. She shifted wary eyes but then..dropped them back to her hand's activities.

"Of course, It was most pleasant an interval. But also.." he would have to admit the other side of the coin if he were to make his point. "it was also rather daunting for a man of my age."

Cordelia's scowl increased but she remained silent.

"Your..attentiveness raised questions to which I had no answers." Finch moved cautiously, not wishing to offend or alienate but he could be no less than totally honest with her. "It is not often I find myself in such a quandary. I found myself..responding to a situation that by rights, I should have denied vehemently. The reality of it all has proven..much more than I anticipated. At least." He touched her hand which was still very busy with her pastime, stilling the movements. "On my part."

"I..don't understand what you're saying." She wailed her misery. She simply was not intelligent enough, she supposed.

"You do, you are simply being obstinate." Finch suspected. "I am saying.." he rephrased tactfully, most cautiously. " What should have been irrevocably 'wrong'..suddenly had never felt so..'right'." He searched her out again, if only to read her countenance.

Cordelia lifted her head, her gaze an unsettling one.

"I do not profess to understand it. I merely relate..what I am experiencing." Finch finished wearily. "You challenged me..unconsciously, granted..and in my attempt to prove my..worthiness, if you will." No, that wasn't the correct phrase he sought. "Or it simply could be 'ego'...? Whatever label you wish to put to my actions.." he dismissed irritably with a curt wave of his hand. "Reprehensible, certainly." He would acknowledge. "Has led me ..us, to this point in time. I am rather damned if I do and damned if I don't."

Cordelia blinked, processing.

"For however long you wish to play out this..improbably situation." Finch brought her hand to his mouth, gently, lightly..caressing the cool fingertips with his lips, hesitating of long duration over the smooth flesh. "Be it known, please..that I no longer hold any real objections. None which I cannot..overcome, at least. If that is what you truly wish, I mean."

The girl..drew in a shaky breath. "I..I d-don't.." she halted abruptly. "What..are you s-saying?" She gripped his fingers tightly, unaware of the pressure she exuded on the thick appendages.

"Stop being obtuse." He commanded. "This is difficult enough without having to.." He snapped.

"YES!" Cordelia whispered hoarsely, choking out the reply. She threw herself forward, her arms flung about his neckline in a death grip, her eyes closed tightly, biting her bottom lip tersely. "Y-YES! Mr…Finch!" she hurriedly concurred, her tone one of absolute desperation. "NO..you d-don't have to. NEVER! NO! Of COURSE..YESSS!"

Finch..settled his nervous system, his hands holding her form almost sedately at first. He allowed the moment to further itself, his body relaxing it's rigid stance after a few seconds under her influence. Slowly, his hands spread about her shoulders, then, eased effortlessly around the small waist.

Cordelia felt his acceptance, melting into his warmth, her arms tightening even moreso, were that possible. ".. ..Yes." she whispered her gratitude to a benevolent God, holding onto her Universe for dear life.

Finch savored the feel of the young body in his arms, enjoying her scent..the softness of her hair as it laced the tops of his hands. He pondered his present mood, finding it..surprisingly..inoffensive.

"It has been a very long time since I..did this sort of thing." He strived for a lightness he did not feel. "Perhaps you should offer up some form of instructions on how we must proceed from this point on."

She blushed completely, burying her face into his neckline, her soft breath caressing his skin. "I only wanted..you not to go..before." she stated haltingly. "I awaken and..you were..not here."

"I thought it best..not to be." He turned his head, moving her slightly back that he could see her face but she refused the effort, snuggling to his neckline yet again.

"Why?" she was devastated by his words. "Why would you think such a thing, Mr. Finch? When you are here, I..I'm..not afraid. The memories aren't there."

"..I took advantage of you, Delia." He sighed heavily. "You are aware of that as much as I. Perhaps Mr. Reese should offer over self-defense instructions to you and Ms. Davidiv.."

"I wanted you to.." she stuttered slightly. "I..wanted to be close to you."

"There is 'close'..as now." He indicated, his hand massaging her lower spine absently. "Which is acceptable. And then..there is what I did, which is..not."

"I..liked what you did." She closed her eyes, remembering how he had made her feel, whispering huskily.

"Well, of course you did." Finch shook his head woefully. "I planned for just such an eventuality. And then..I deliberately executed my hypothesis. Any male worth his salt could ..interest a young female fresh out of the.." how to put it delicately. "garden, as it were."

"I am not..that!" she pouted, disliking that he thought she might be… 'that.'

"Really." He didn't seem all that impressed with her credentials. "Hummm."

"I have had..lovers!" she pulled away, protesting her rights, her hands still on his shoulders.

"..I see." he nodded amiably. "My mistake."

"You don't believe me!" She removed her hands from his shoulders.

"Why would I disbelieve you?" he asked politely.

"Do NOT use that tone with me!" she demanded. "I know that..tone!"

"To which 'tone' do you refer?" he asked patiently.

"I will have you know, that I have men in my apartment..continuously!" she fought back instinctively. "I..I am a ..a highly sought after woman! I..my books are read by world renowned..men! Who…who ..like me very much!"

"Such as John Reese." Finch helped out.

"No..not ..him! But others!" Cordelia snapped. "Lots and lots of..others! I don't even HAVE a garden, for YOUR information, Mr. Harold Finch and I certainly do not need YOU to…eh…plant anything for me! I have soooo many other men who do that sort of ..thing..! LOTS!"

"I am rather sorry to hear it." Finch nodded slowly. "I had so been looking forward to sowing a few..seeds in your patch."

Cordelia..balked at such a statement. "…What?"

"That was a metaphor. I thought we were indulging." Harold lifted a scolding stare. "Are we done being stupid?"

Cordelia..pouted. "You..hurt my feelings." She tried to explain.

"By insinuating that you were a virtuous young woman?"

She…continued to sulk. "You made it sound..not good."

"Well, it IS good." The man stated emphatically. "And it pleases me that you are..virtuous."

Cordelia lifted doubtful eyes, moving..closer. "But..am I?" she fretted. "I..I..let you..before, you know?"

Finch's gaze dropped of it's own accord to the slightly gaping front of his neglected shirt. "Yes." He ..remembered well. "..You did."

"Doesn't that make me..unvirtuous?" her face cringed up a little, endearingly so. "Is there such a word?"

"Not in your Universe, Delia." Finch smiled over at the perplexed young lady. "but..with careful instruction and patient guidance..perhaps we can alter that anomaly."

Cordelia was still overly concerned about her grammatical miscalculation. "..Invirtuous?..nonvirtu.."

"Would you enjoy removing my vest, do you think?" he had often visualized such a moment, after all.

She shifted absent eyes. "Nonvirtuous." She nodded. "That's it, isn't it, Mr. Finc.. … …w-what?" the green eyes examined his physique, blinking a flush away.

Finch shook his head to clear it, unfastening the three buttons of his tweed over coat, shrugging out of the warm material. He lay the item carefully aside on the stool by the bed.

"I wish I had my lap top..it has spell check." She drew her gaze from the neatly stacked vest.

"How wonderful for you." Finch slid the knot from his tie, taking it from his neck, hanging it on the end of the bed post. "Rules of engagement must be established."

Cordelia was lost. She stared at the tie on the end of her bed. "What are you..doing?" Harold Finch was never less than perfectly attired! "Why..did you.." she motioned aimlessly to..the vest and tie.

"Close the shirt, Cordelia." He slipped his shoes off. The Italian leather ones he had paid a ridiculous amount for.

She gasped, having looked down, blushing fully, grasping the two sides of the material hastily, mortified. 'OHHH!"

The emerald eyes flashed an abject apology his way.

"Mr. Finch!" she breathed her awe. "I…I didn't mean for you to.." her eyes flew to the tie and the vest. "I..I only wanted you to lay with m…not LAY WITH ME..as in…LAY..ohhhhhh GOD!" she realized the situation..finally! "AS IN…HOLD ME..only..hold me as..in…with..clothes on.. As in..with your vest and tie..still ON! I'm not..saying.. …that man doesn't come when you.."

She was humiliated and..desolate. "OH, GOD..you must think I am..well..not that I didn't want..you know. I do..I..I mean, I WOULD..under the right circumstances which..would be when YOU say..they are right, of course. But.."

"This is really just so sad." Finch decided with a finality the girl did not like at all.

"I do WANT to…" she amended hastily, holding out her hands in the Universal sign of 'peace'.. "Of COURSE I want..that! But, you're not..ready for..it's just not …eh…" her eyes kept flashing to the vest and tie. "The time is .."

"Believe me, Cordelia." Harold Finch was above all else..a patient man. But at this exact moment? "I AM…ready.." he prompted almost angrily. "And willing AND able. As I shall dutifully ..demonstrate, if you will just kindly..shut the hell up and..get in the freaking bed!" he stressed the last two words, his frustration most apparent suddenly, waving his hand irritably toward the offending structure, much as he had done once before when John Reese refused to even try out Finch's gift offering of 'the cushion'.

Cordelia…yes…gasped. "You said…freaking!"

"You would make a Saint say..freaking!" Harold was decidedly positive. "Do you..or do you NOT…wish to proceed in this endeavor?"

The question threw the woman but moreso..it stunned her into complacency.

"WELL?" Harold Finch actually…had raised his voice.

".. .. Yes." She answered respectfully, swallowing hard.

Finch…calmed. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes. "God, I am getting a headache." He suddenly realized.

"NO!" Cordelia was devastated. "Don't! Not NOW, Mr. Finch!"

The absurdity of the outburst and the meaning behind it, brought a reluctant grin to Finch's face. He lifted a subdued stare, having shaken his head minutely. He held out his hand. "May I have my shirt back."

Cordelia held tight to the garment for a brief second, her face comically aghast but then..she 'got it'…ever so quickly removing the cotton garment, tossing it aside. Then going hastily to fold it with shaking hands, and lay it properly on the stool next to his vest. She turned anxious eyes his way, holding her breath.

Finch's eyes swept her nudity, what could be seen, for her long hair hid the full crests of her small but perfect mounds for the most part, having dropped his hand to his side.

He stepped slowly, his hand lifting the light strands covering her right breast. He lifted the fluff, bringing the fragrant tresses to his nostrils, the back of his hand gently swiping one pert, raised nub, making Cordelia's nipple stiffen for attention.

She closed her eyes, stifling a quivering moan.

Harold's eyes devoured the beauty of her body, his free hand curving to her hip, sliding over the satin of the blue lace panties. He hooked his thumb into the band, his index finger sensually massaging the golden fluff of her sparse pubic hair.

Cordelia melded her body to his, her arms reaching about his neckline, her mouth lifted invitingly for his kiss. Which..he refused offer just yet.

She opened the lovely orbs, confusion written on the soft, gentle face. But, soon enough, she had other things with which to ponder upon.

"This is rather.." he moved his finger gently, ever so lightly, back and forth over the springy coarseness he had discovered beneath the lace fabric. "different." He could feel the slick smoothness of carefully shaved flesh on either side of the heated flesh.

Cordelia sighed, breathing out shakily, again, searching awkwardly for his lips..her hand covering his, her slender fingers intertwining with his thicker ones, holding him to his more than pleasurable pastime. She stiffened, her face allowing her discord. "Why are you refusing to..kiss me?"

"Because." He explained patiently, Finch nuzzled her cheek line in open affection. "You wish me to kiss you, Cordelia. Oft times, it is much more pleasant to deny one's desires than it is to simply give in to the…"

Cordelia's mouth pressed to his, her lips flowering into full passion within seconds, her arms securely laced about his neck. He could feel the imprint of the small orbs of her breasts crushed to his shirt front, her body warm, filtering through the material of the fabric.

Harold returned the warm pressure, tightening his arms about her waist, allowing the very tip of Cordelia's tongue to slip past his lips, to mingle lovingly with his for one brief moment of delightful 'play'. She pulled back, flushing slightly for her own boldness.

"I..could be mistaken in my assumption on that issue, of course." Finch wasn't above revising his beliefs in this instance. He lowered his head yet again, taking his time..his mouth fitting to the woman's expertly, the kiss gentle and coaxing a response from Cordelia that left the man strained and ..receptive.

He broke the contact, his gaze a restless one.

Harold glanced down, his palm flattening over the taunt flatness of her stomach. He moved his free hand behind her back, sliding it over the firm slope of her curvaceous buttock, his fingers traveling the womanly line of her body, from her hip to the slight dip between the back of her leg and her bottom.

Cordelia squirmed, pressing closer to the man, her lips constantly seeking out the moist heat of Harold Finch's mouth.

Her arms refused allow him leave her influence which was just fine with the man.

Their gazes met often and held steady, Harold's more so than Cordelia's but..she offered tentative, wistful smiles from time to time, encouraging his exploration of her form, her own hands guiding and helpful if he lingered too overly long in any given spot.

She was wanting more intimacy, which Finch fully understood, but he was determined to move this along stage by stage. Just as he was fully intending to enjoy each and every second afforded him.

The girl traced a loving finger down his tapered side-burns, touching his lips irreverently before lifting her mouth to caress the rather thin, nondescript mouth with a brooding intensity which robbed Finch of his normal, controlled response.

Her tongue mingled with his, causing his insides to flutter to vivid life, and a low moan of acquiescence to escape his throat. Without thought or any real direction, his hand found it's way to the small orb of her breast, skimming over the satin of her flesh, his fingers curving to.. kneading, squeezing..hefting the perfectly shaped mound to his heart's content. His thumb rubbing erotically over the sensitive little bud begging for his attention. He was fast becoming acquainted with it's shape and size, his actions bringing soft mews of delight and growing excitement from Cordelia.

She insisted he transfer his touch to the opposite breast. He could live with the bold move, he found.

Her squirming was becoming more pronounced. It was most distracting to Harold's thought processes. He thought once of putting a little distance between them but he knew, he simply did not have that type of will power any longer.

He wanted to be close to her. He enjoyed the freedom of being allowed access to her body, of touching her any place he pleased, just because he could.

Her warm fingers trailed along the rim of his ears, causing ripples of delight to run his forearms. She snuggled up against him at every advantage point, seemingly craving the feel of his ever hardening arousal, her thigh rubbing sensually along it's length from time to time, which caused him to lengthen..thicken even more so.

Cordelia ran slow, methodical kisses along his jaw line, her tongue playing flittingly in the indentation of the cleft of his chin.

"Stop it." He moved away, scowling for such vulgarity but she didn't seem to mind his surliness.

"Make love to me." Cordelia pleaded breathlessly, tugging on his shoulders, moving slightly in his embrace, her scowl matching his suddenly.

"I am making love to you." He was momentarily confused. Wasn't he doing it correctly?

"Noooo." She tugged more insistently and he caught her meaning. "Here." She had motioned behind her to the small bed.

Finch glanced at the structure. "..Soon."

"NOW!" she..squirmed up against him provocatively.

His eyes dropped to where their bodies made contact and stayed for a moment. But then..the man lifted a stubbornly set gaze. "…Soon."

Cordelia groaned her misery, her head falling back, the beautiful hair touching his forearm, the one he held firmly about the small of her waist. "I don't want…to wait."

She seemed pretty adamant on the subject.

"Then..don't." he was totally willing to compromise on that one.

Cordelia opened her eyes, baffled by his words, clearly.

"I enjoy…" he thought perhaps he might. "..Watching." The man was stunned by his own boldness but the more he thought about it..

She didn't blush like he assumed she might. "I want to do it..with you."

He leaned slightly, his tone brisk. "Then..have a little patience."

The woman's heart felt distraughtly frayed groan made him smile..just a wee bit, though.

This was proving much more amusing than first he had envisioned.