Fandom: Person of Interest
Word Count: 1,061
Summary: Harold might not be a billionaire anymore, but that doesn't mean he isn't rich.
AN: Written for the fan_flashworks prompt: Fortune
An2: Also here at AO3
Thanks to Samaritan, Harold Finch was no longer a billionaire. He lived in a cheap apartment with walls that had been painted eggplant purple and dingy carpet that was stained.
He sat on his couch, a green monastery that had a spring sticking out of one cushion, his laptop sat on his lap and he was grading papers.
Classical music played from a second hand record player that sat in a nicked wooden case.
As he read yet another paper that could use a proofreader and a fact checker (he wasn't a betting man, but he would wager most of the information was taken from Wikipedia) he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He took his cover as Professor Whistler very seriously, but grading papers was mind numbing. Considering that the alternative was to be in the clutches of Samaritan, he could deal with it.
He stood up and was trying to decide what kind of tea he would like to make when there was a knock at the door.
Pulling out his phone, he looked at the camera feed from the above his door; even though he knew he was relativity safe Professor Whistler, it paid to be extra careful.
As he looked at the feed he smiled, John was standing outside his door.
He walked to the door and opened it. John smiled at him and he walked into Harold's apartment. He was wearing a letterman's jacket, faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt that was tight across his chest.
'Hi, Professor. I was hoping we could talk about my grade.'
Harold grinned. John was playing one of his favourite games and Harold was happy to oblige.
'Of course,' Harold walked over to John and stood close. He could smell John cool cologne. He pressed his hand against John's chest. 'I don't usually negotiate grades, but I think I'll make an exception for you.'
John smirked. 'Oh, yeah. I'd do anything for a higher grade.'
Harold took a step back. 'Take off your clothes.'
Harold would never do this with one of his real students, he would never take advantage of his position of power and none of his students were a alluring as John, but here within the safety of Whistler's apartment with John he could do anything.
John slowly took off his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head as Harold licked his lips. John's chest was tan and muscular, his nipples were dark.
Harold's cock twitched as John slid his pants and boxers down his tanned thighs. John's cock was half-hard and the tip was a deep red. His balls were covered with dark hair. Harold moved over to John and looked him up and down. Harold Finch didn't usually ogle John so openly, but Harold Whistler was someone else entirely.
'Like what you see, Professor?'
'Oh, yes. Now, bend over the arm of my couch.'
John walked over to the green fabric couch and bent over it. As Harold admired John's pale, round ass cheeks he unzipped his pants and pulled his hard cock out of his pants and gave it a few strokes.
He pulled a tube of lubricant out of a drawer by his couch and coated his cock.
'Do you need to prepare yourself?'
'Nah. Already taken care of.'
'Isn't that little presumptuous?' Harold smacked John's ass cheek until it was a delightful pink.
'Yeah, but you can't blame a guy for hoping,' John said between smacks.
'Indeed,' Harold said as he squeezed John ass cheek and John groaned.
He slid his cock against the crack of John's ass a few times and then pressed his cock to John's hole and pressed inside. John was indeed lubed and loose. John groaned.
He pushed in farther and farther until he was deep inside John.
He pulled out until only his cock head was inside and pushed back in. Again and again he almost completely pulled out and pushed back in. Each time, his thrusts were faster and harder.
John just moaned and groaned as he was fucked.
After several minutes of thrusting, Harold felt his orgasm building. He thrust harder and faster as he came.
He cried out John name as he came deep inside him.
He came so hard that he barely realised that John came as well.
After he had come, Harold pulled out of John and John stood up. He turned around and gave Harold a kiss. It was gentle and almost chaste.
'Sorry about coming on your couch,' John said as he rubbed the back of his neck.
'It's fine. I had it Scotch-Guarded just for this eventuality.'
John laughed. 'Nice to know I'm not the only one who prepared.'
'Indeed. Shall we go to bed?'
'Lead the way.'
They walked close as the walked down the hallway to Harold's bedroom. In the room were stacks and stacks of book and a large bed sat in the middle of the room. Harold could have bought a smaller bed, but John moved around a lot when he slept.
John lay on the bed as Harold removed his clothes. Even though his fortune was gone, he still dressed in suits; they just weren't as finely tailored as he liked. They were his armour made of silk and wool. Even before they started having sex, he didn't need his armor around John.
As he removed his clothes, he felt John watching him. John enjoyed watching him undress.
After Harold was naked he went to his bathroom and wet a washcloth. Walking back into the bedroom, he cleaned the come off John's stomach. John just made happy noises and ran his fingers through Harold's hair. Even though they had sex, Harold thought this was far more intimate. Once Harold was done, John pulled him against him.
John's body was warm and smelled of sweat. Harold used John chest as a pillow and he rubbed Harold's back and kissed Harold's shoulder.
'So, Professor, is my grade higher.'
Harold smiled as he buried his face in John's chest. He lifted his head and kissed John sweetly. 'Of course. You have a B now. There can always be room for improvement.'
John grinned. 'Yeah. I'm all for improvement.
Harold lowed his head and as he fell asleep, he thought he might not be a billionaire, but he was still a rich man.