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Harold was having the week from hell. He had never been more frustrated in his life and while he had done some terrible things in his life he’s not sure he has done anything to deserve this level of torment. Each number this week seemed to be designed to test his restraint to not just touch John, or as the week went on not to shove him against a shelf in the library and have his way with John in a fit of desire. John had just finish the number and wasn’t do back for a while, so Harold set his head on his desk and contemplated his life choices.
It all started with the number of Travis Walters. Mr. Walters was a con man and a rather poor one at, he had tried to rip off a rather powerful person and now had a bounty on his head. What should have told Harold how his week was going to go was that Mr. Reese had to fight off Mr. Walters would be assassins in the sewers thanks to the number darting down into them out of fear. John returned to the library covered in sewage and as soon as he got to the main room started stripping. He had gotten out of his jacket, suit jacket, and shirt and was going for his belt before Harold gathered up the brain power to remove his eyes from the display and back to the computer screens which didn’t help as he got a nice reflection of John’s ass as he pulled down his pants and boxers in one go.
Things did not get better over the week, the next number resulted in Mr. Reese having to go undercover in a small-time biker gang that dressed very stereotypically, Leather vests, pants, and boots. When john first walked into the library in the white t-shirt with leather vest and pants, and biker boots, Harold was glad he had been sitting down at his computers to conceal the rather instantaneous erection he got.
The next number was a model and having to listen to a photographer try and convince Reese that he should join the shoot by listing his attractive qualities was no picnic either. Or the number that to thank John for saving her life gave John a detailed description of what she would like to do with him sexually. John of course refused her but that wasn’t the point.
This last number was by far the worst and the result left Harold furiously aroused. Their latest number was a stripper at a strip club that catered to gay men. Their number didn’t have much of a digital footprint or much of a social life outside of work, so the only way to get close to him was to have John get a job at the club. Harold new this was going to be a difficult case on his restraint and on not telling John about his inconvenient feelings for the man.
It was even harder than he imagined, and the case dragged on. At first Harold only tried to listen to the audio feed and not watch the cameras whenever John was performing. This particular club catered to a wealthier clientele and that first night Harold had to listen as John was propositioned by 3 different men for sex and one looking for a live in “boy toy”. After that Harold couldn’t not watch and watching John was a terrible idea but he couldn’t stop and ending up having to have a spare pocket square on hand for those times. But what was worse was listening to John get propositioned repeatedly.
Harold still had his forehead on his desk when he heard John’s footsteps on the stairs.
“Harold are you alright,” John asked concerned, just seeing Harold slumped over on his desk.
“No, Mr. Reese I’m not,” Harold said deciding to do something rash, fueled by the images of John’s last performance.
John looked shocked and Harold let lust drive him to quickly cross over to John, grab his shirt at the open collar and pull him down for a kiss.
“John if you don’t want this tell me now, because I don’t think I will be able to stop until I bring you off.” Harold said as he broke the kiss, hands sliding down to the first closed button on john’s shirt.
John looked like he had swallowed his tongue but nodded and pulled Harold in close again, so they could kiss again. Harold leaned into the kiss and got to work on getting John out of his shirt. They slowly made their way to the back of the crash room completely distracted by the kissing. Harold thought that stripping John himself was much preferable to watching it happen on his monitors.