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He stood in front of the mirror and admired his handiwork.
The suit he had chosen was, in his mind, perfect. The wool cloth cut a striking figure that settled finely around his short frame. The colour was of the most mesmerizing blue, like the depths of the clearest crystal ocean. It complimented him, enhancing the piercing azure of his eyes, framed by the dark-rimmed glasses he favoured.
The waistcoat hugged his body, caressing his curves, yet flattering his figure. Onyx buttons glinted and shimmered in the light, marching a path down the vest, halting just past the waistband of the immaculately tailored trousers. The crisp white shirt was a blinding background behind the deep hue of blue, ringed and protected by the spiral patterned neck tie. The swirling cobalt disappeared into the folds of his waistcoat, leaving only a hint of its design behind.
Harold turned to his left, and back to the right, attempting to view every angle of his outfit, but hindered by his stiff neck. Stepping closer, he ran his hands through his dark chestnut hair, teasing and twisting the short strands between his fingers. Satisfied, he reached for his suit jacket and slid it awkwardly over his shoulders. The snow-white pocket square poked delicately from the breast, mimicking the austere dress shirt beneath. Smoothing the fine fabric, Finch adjusted the lapels and sleeves, tugging on his shirt cuffs to reveal diamond studded cufflinks. They were fashioned into open books, a present from John, and Harold kept them for special occasions. He hoped John would notice he was wearing them tonight.
It was a special night for the couple. Their mutual friend, Megan Tillman, was receiving an award for her services to a medical charity she supported, and she had invited Reese and Finch as her guests. It promised to be a glittering affair, and while Harold had attended his fair share of fancy events, John was more reserved, and Harold wondered how his partner was feeling.
The ex-CIA agent had opted for dressing in his loft, claiming he wanted to surprise Harold, and observe all the expectations of a proper date. They didn’t often get to participate in such traditional relationship matters, and Harold felt the nervous excitement course through his veins like a cocktail of caffeine stimulants. Reaching for a cloth, he once again caressed the toes of his brown Gucci brogues, polishing them to a mirror-like shine.
A gentle knock at the door interrupted his ministrations and, straightening carefully, Harold regarded his reflection one last time, before leaving his bedroom and heading to answer the knock that came again. Finch swung open the door, and felt his breath catch as he absorbed the beauty of the tall man stood before him. A shy smile broke out on John’s face, followed by a delicate dusting of pink across his cheeks as he endured Harold’s awed appreciation.
Finch beckoned his lover into the apartment, and after shutting the door, wordlessly bid John stand for inspection. His handsome partner was no stranger to suits, opting to wear a simple black number with white shirts and no tie for his daily activities. But somehow, John had been transformed. The silver-grey wool magnified his broad shoulders, the jacket deliciously grazing his muscular form. The flawless suit trousers enhanced his long legs, ending in a pair of simple black Oxford dress shoes. The ice blue shirt and pearly cream tie finished the ensemble, with John’s salt and pepper hair styled carefully, his face neatly shaven and smooth.
Unable to find words to honour John’s appearance, Harold opted instead for stepping forward and placing his hands on John’s lapels, briefly rubbing the soft fabric against his fingertips, and gifting a chaste kiss upon his lover’s cheek. The scent of John’s cologne pervaded Harold’s senses, and he breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar fragrance.
“You look wonderful, John. Very handsome” he breathed, unable to keep the lust from his voice.
John chuckled, his deep laugh vibrating through his chest and making Finch shiver in pleasure.
“You don’t look half bad yourself, Harold. I’ll have to keep my eyes open for potential threats tonight, I think I’m going to be beating them off with a stick!”
Harold scoffed, quirking an eyebrow at his grinning partner, before stepping away to find his keys.
“If we do not want to be late, we should think about departing, Mr Reese”
John’s grin widened at the formal use of his name, and proffered his arm for Harold, who took it with a small lop-sided smile.
The short journey to the hotel was smooth and comfortable. Sitting together in the back of Harold’s Bentley, the couple travelled in companionable silence, soft classical notes from the radio the only sound. John was restless, one hand gripped around the door handle, the other tapping a nervous melody on his knee. Harold stole glances at his partner, overwhelming love filling his heart at the unusual sight of John uneasy. He reached across to John’s fidgeting fingers, and squeezed them gently, trying to reassure the jittery operative. The tapping ceased, but John’s grip on the handle didn’t subside.
When they arrived at the grand hotel, the valet took the car, and Harold reached for John’s hand, leading him inside amongst other opulently dressed guests. They were ushered into the fancy ballroom, decorated tastefully with lavish finery. Glancing at his stoic companion, Harold scanned the room, searching for Megan, who caught his eye and smiled brightly at him while excusing herself from the group of people surrounding her. John retrieved two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Harold, who smiled in thanks.
Megan approached them, her elegant black dress sweeping behind her as she made her way steadily through the throng of extravagant people and ornamental tables.
“Harold, John, it’s lovely to see you. I’m so glad you could make it” she said, kissing each man on the cheek as she welcomed them.
“Thank you for inviting us Megan, we are delighted to be here to celebrate your achievement” Harold replied as John gave Megan a friendly squeeze.
They chatted amicably until dinner was announced and they were ushered to their seats. This time, John lead Harold to their table, pulling out his chair and making sure Harold was comfortable before taking his own seat. The feeling of pride and adoration for John, trickled down his spine, spreading its warmth along his limbs. Harold smiled at his lover, their hands finding each other underneath the table once again.
Drinks flowed and course after course of delicious food was served. Harold conversed with the other guests at their table, while John listened politely, only speaking if a question or comment was directed at him. Various speakers came onto the small stage to talk about the charity’s work, and a presentation was made to Megan, who gave a heart-warming and sincere speech in thanks.
After dinner was finished, people began mingling amongst the tables once more, while brandy and other digestifs were brought out on shiny silver platters. John excused himself to the toilet, while Harold sipped his cognac, trying politely to end a conversation with a rather over-exuberant drunk entrepreneur. Eventually, using the excuse of needing to stretch his legs, Harold escaped and strolled slowly around the ballroom, feeling pleasantly mellow, the champagne and brandy having a warm soothing effect on him.
Towards the back of the grandiose room was a display, offering information about the charity that the occasion was celebrating. Harold perused the exhibit while sipping his brandy, when a hand came to rest lightly on his hip, a warm arm circling his body, and a voice at his ear, low and sultry.
“You look so hot in that suit, if it wasn’t so crowded in here I’d let you fuck me so hard, right here, right now!”
Harold inhaled sharply and choked on his brandy, spluttering as John patted him lightly on the back. Regaining his composure, he turned to his partner, admonishment ready on his tongue.
“I’m not sure this is the time or the place for that kind of talk, Mr Reese”
“I’m sorry Harold, I just couldn’t help myself. You look so sexy” he slurred slightly, not looking in the least bit apologetic for his behaviour.
Harold quirked his eyebrow at him.
“Maybe it’s time to be getting you home” he mused thoughtfully, amusement playing around his lips.
“I thought you would never ask!”