Finch: A Forbidden Desires Spin-Off Story

by Piper Scott

  Finch had never considered himself extremely attractive—his hair was too dark, his face too severe, and his limbs too long. But seeing himself in the mirror with his hair cut just right and in underwear that hugged his hips, he saw a glimmer of the man he could have been had his life turned out differently. Surprised by what he saw, he brushed his fingers over the waistline of the briefs and smiled at his reflection.

  “I’d like to see, Finch,” Hugh called out. “Can you please turn around for me? Ah. Very nice. And Ashley’s quite correct. The size is perfect. They are a bit lower than you’re used to, but that’s no hardship.”

  “Do you think so, sir?” Finch asked. His heart had started to pound in ways he both liked and didn’t like all at once. It was a thrill to be standing in front of Hugh next to naked and hear the dragon say that he was handsome. The compliment raced through him like adrenaline, and he found himself craving more. “If you like them, I’ll wear them. For you, I always strive to be at my best.”

  “I love them,” Hugh said, meeting Finch’s eyes, and Finch’s heart sang. “I’ll take them. A dozen of them. Six in black, and six in assorted colors. And while we’re at it, I’ll take an equal amount of those boxers, divided the same way.”

  Buford returned, summoned by the magic of fashion, in time to receive the order. He hurried out of the room to fill it while Ashley busied himself with something. Finch was too busy smiling at Hugh to see what it was.

  “What are you doing, Ashley?” Hugh asked, even though his eyes were for Finch and Finch alone.

  “Covering the mirrors,” Ashley replied. “You requested we keep Mr. Finch’s suit a surprise, so we’ll need to keep them covered during the fitting.”

  “Ah,” Hugh said, sounding like he hadn’t heard at all. He smiled sweetly at Finch. “Right.”

  For the next hour, Finch stood and had a suit they wouldn’t let him see be tailored to him. Pins were stuck in so many places that he started to feel like a pincushion. At last, the suit was taken off him and whisked away.

  “Would you like a new outfit for him to wear out?” Ashley asked.

  Hugh looked eager. “Do you have anything ready?”

  “Naturally, Mr. Drake. Mr. Finch, do you have any color preference?”

  “I like purple,” Finch said.

  Color rose in Hugh’s cheeks, the sight of which made the tips of Finch’s ears burn.

  Ashley smiled at them both. “Something purple, it is.”

  More clothes were brought in and given to Finch, who, with Ashley’s assistance, donned them. The fit really was exceptional, and the comfort was otherworldly. The sticking point would be how they looked, as the mirrors were still covered, and Finch hadn’t been able to see.

  “Oh, Mr. Finch,” Ashley said with a low whistle. “Purple is your color.”

  “Is it?”

  “Well, in my opinion, you could get away with wearing just about anything and still look stunning, but this is really something else. Keep your back to the mirrors, now. I want to do a grand reveal. Just wait until you see yourself.”

  While Finch kept his back to the mirrors, there came the sound of fabric moving through air. Ashley had uncovered the mirrors, and all Finch had to do was turn around and look. His gaze was stuck on Hugh, however. The dragon was looking at him through partially lidded eyes, adoration spelled plainly across his face.

  “You look amazing, Finch.” Hugh’s voice was soft and reverent. “Turn around and see for yourself.”

  Finch turned to look in the large mirrors behind him. He’d been dressed in charcoal trousers and a dove-gray shirt. Over the shirt, he wore a rather plain jumper in a color that was somewhere between pearl and lavender. He could tell, by feel, that it was cashmere. It was entirely too much, but Finch liked what he saw. He wasn’t the proper secretary in one of his many proper and identical suits, nor was he the man relaxing on his day off in ancient jeans and an even older t-shirt. He looked handsome. Almost pretty. And when Hugh came to stand beside him, he looked like the sort of omega who might belong to a dragon. Finch bit his lip hard at the thought.

  “I can’t afford this, sir,” Finch said. “I’ll just wear my other clothes.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “I can’t accept it. It’s far too much.”

  Hugh shook his head. “It’s nowhere near enough for a treasure like you. Wear the clothes, Finch. I like to see you in them.”

  The declaration should have been criminal for the way it stole Finch’s heart, and Hugh the kingpin when he slipped his hand into Finch’s and squeezed. Finch shuffled a little closer and squeezed back. The sight of their reflections side by side was the truest happiness he had ever known. It was fortunate the ball was tonight. Finch’s guard was starting to slip. But with just hours until Hugh was swept away in a sea of Disgraces all vying for his attention, he could afford a little weakness. It was the last chance he’d have to enjoy Hugh’s affection, and if only for today, he would enjoy it.

  Once their suits and other effects were paid for, George drove them to one of the most expensive hotels in downtown Aurora. It was close to the lake and the upper floors all commanded an amazing view. They ate lunch in one of the restaurants in the lobby, then afterward, instead of leaving, Hugh led Finch toward the bank of elevators.

  “Sir?”

  “Come along, Finch. I have another surprise for you.” Once in the elevator, he pushed the number for one of the uppermost floors.

  “Where are we going, sir?” Finch asked, his heart pounding a staccato beat.

  Hugh put his hand on the small of Finch’s back and smiled down at him. Finch was so dazzled that he barely heard the words Hugh said.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Could you repeat that?”

  “I said,” Hugh went on in a slightly louder voice, “that I’m treating you to a facial.”

  Even though Hugh had repeated it in a clear, loud voice, Finch knew he couldn’t have heard that right. “A facial, sir?”

  The doors to the elevator opened. Hugh led the way and Finch trotted behind him, wondering what the hell had gotten into Hugh. Surely he couldn’t mean what Finch thought he meant, could he? Nevertheless, a vision of Finch kneeling, naked, while Hugh stood over him and shot his cum onto Finch’s face persisted.

  Everard had been right to warn him not to let Hugh get him alone—after everything Hugh had done for him today, Finch wasn’t sure he could resist.

  “Here we are!” Hugh sang cheerfully, and Finch felt both a wave of relief and a brief stab of disappointment. They were at a spa. The facial made ever so much more sense.

  Mr. Drake and his “companion” were whisked inside, given robes, and sent to a changing room. Hugh immediately began to disrobe. Finch just gaped at him, unable to move a muscle. He hadn’t expected to see Hugh’s body again so soon, or indeed, ever. But the show was over far too soon. Hugh put on his robe, turned around, and saw Finch hadn’t yet changed. “Are you quite all right, Finch?” he asked.

  Finch shut his mouth with a snap, Hugh’s perfect ass and large cock prominent in his recent memory. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

  “Then let’s get going. I can help you undress, if you like. Did any of the clothing Ashley put you in have difficult closures? The trousers, I did notice, are quite tight.”

  “No… ah… yes… that is to say, I can do it, sir. Just give me a moment.” As quickly as he could, Finch undressed in front of Hugh and put on the provided robe. “I’m all set,” Finch smiled faintly, “for my facial.”

  “And massage!” Hugh announced happily. “I booked us a couples’ session.”

  Finch felt all the blood drain from his face. “So everyone out there thinks I’m your…”

  “My Finch, yes. I told them you’re my treasure. They’ve promised to take extra special care of both of us.”

  “Oh, good lord,” Finch moaned.

  “I know, right? This is so very exciting.” Hugh opened the changing room door to let the spa attendants know they were ready
for their first treatment.

  Finch spent the next few hours with Hugh being pampered within an inch of their lives. In addition to facials, each man was given a manicure, pedicure, a massage, and a detoxifying mud bath. Although what role mud played in detoxifying a body Finch didn’t know.

  “Would you like body hair removal as well?” one of the young women tending to them asked Finch. “We have several methods available.”

  Finch blanched and hoped Hugh hadn’t heard her, but of course he had. He braced himself for whatever new torture Hugh planned to put him through.

  “No, I think not,” Hugh said. He reached over and lightly touched the hair visible on the V of skin exposed by Finch’s robe. “I rather think it’s fetching.”

  Finch didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified by Hugh’s words.

  “Very good, sir. In that case, your last treatment is a thermal soak, then you may use our bathing facilities. Is there anything else I can get you?”

  Hugh shook his head. “No, my dear. Everything has been quite splendid.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, then led man and dragon to the thermal suite.

  Finch was extremely grateful that he was given his own bathing room when they were finished. He’d half-expected Hugh to want to share a shower with him. He couldn’t even imagine how humiliating that would be, because there was absolutely no way he could be wet and naked around Hugh without sporting an erection. It simply wasn’t possible.

  After showering thoroughly, Finch went to the changing room to dress in his new outfit, but instead of a pile of neatly folded clothes, there was a large box. Curious, Finch opened it. Inside was his suit. Everything he might need was included, from the underwear outward, and numbly, Finch began to put it all on. The suit’s wool was the finest and softest he’d ever worn, and the color was singular. Not charcoal and not violet, but something between the two. The shirt was a pristine white and the jacket had satin lapels in the same shade as the wool. It was the most beautiful suit he’d ever seen. There were even shoes in his size, socks, garters, and a white bowtie included. The only thing not found in the box was cufflinks. There were studs for the shirt, but nothing else. He’d have to run to his room shortly after they returned home to retrieve the amethyst pair from his room.

  Finch was tying his tie when there came a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said.

  Come in Hugh did, looking resplendent in a suit the very same color as Finch’s. The cut was subtly different, as Hugh was much taller and bulkier than Finch, but it was clear they matched. Upon seeing it, Finch’s stomach dropped like he was on one of those dangerous and frightening carnival rides that popped up in parking lots every summer.

  He and Hugh matched.

  Hugh had gone out of his way to make sure of it.

  Not only had Hugh cared enough about him to book Finch appointments alongside his own, but he’d put forth the effort to ensure Finch would have something to wear to the ball. Something that showed the world how much Hugh cared for him. It was as horribly romantic as it was devastating. If only things could be different.

  “You look handsome, Finch,” Hugh said.

  “As do you, sir.”

  Hugh grinned. “I know. I brought you something.”

  The knife in Finch’s gut twisted a little more. “No, sir. I can’t possibly accept another gift.”

  “Not a gift. I just made sure these got brought along. Hold out your hand.”

  Finch did so, and Hugh dropped something into them. Two things, to be precise. They were his amethyst cufflinks. Hugh had remembered them. Finch’s heart clenched. “Thank you, sir.” He deftly attached them to his cuffs.

  “Are you ready?” Hugh asked. “George has brought the car around and is waiting for us.”

  No, Finch thought. I am most definitely not.

  Out loud he said, “Of course, sir,” then held the door to the room open and prepared for the pain he’d feel later that evening, when he’d give Hugh away to the Disgrace who would put an end to dreams he never should have had in the first place.

  21

  Hugh

  By the time they made it home from the spa, Hugh’s lair had been transformed into a fairy-tale castle. No detail had been overlooked. The front hall had been buffed and polished to a shine. Clusters of candles housed in glass cylinders lined the stairs, surrounded by lush greenery that tumbled down the steps like water rushing over rocks, its leaves interspersed with gorgeous camellia blooms. A chandelier had been installed, and it cast a dim but dreamy light over the room. Other, less noticeable surfaces had been decorated as well—high-up window ledges overflowed with foliage. Hugh spotted clear jewels nestled in them—fat diamonds that shone like dew. Upon closer investigation, he found them other places, too. They were wrapped around the balusters of each staircase, held in place by invisible thread like magic itself had willed them into existence. Some glittered loose by the candles. The effect was immediate and striking. It really was quite something.

  “Finch,” Hugh breathed as they stepped through the door. “I am in awe. How did you arrange all this?”

  “I had help from a professional,” Finch replied, ever humble, but Hugh knew the truth—Finch had fretted and fussed over every little detail until it had been made perfect. It was his nature. Without him, none of this would have happened. “Is everything to your liking, sir? There’s not much time left, but I should have enough to make an adjustment or two should something not be to your taste.”

  “Are you joking? This is better than I could have dreamed.” Hugh grabbed Finch’s hand and squeezed it. “Will you show me what else has been done?”

  Finch smiled, putting every diamond in the room to shame. “It would be an honor.”

  They walked hand in hand from the front hall through the inner corridors of the house. The way forward was decorated with the same camellia and candle arrangements, although now they poured over long console tables rather than stairs and decorated sconces instead of windows. The more Hugh saw, the harder his heart pounded, and the surer his grip on Finch’s hand became. All of this work and all of this beauty had come from the man beside him. Loyal, faithful Finch had gone out of his way to make sure Hugh’s dream came true.

  “Are you ready to see the ballroom, sir?” Finch asked when they arrived at the end of the hall. He lifted a hand and set it on one of the ornamental double doors, where the low light caught in his amethyst cufflinks. Like Finch, they were often overlooked, but precious beyond compare. “If all has gone according to plan, it should be breathtaking.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Hugh said, but was unable to bring himself to look even when Finch opened the door. How could he when the heart and soul of his hoard was standing at his side?

  “We spared no expense,” Finch relayed with a sweep of his hand before quickly adding, “although I did haggle a fair bit. The opulence you see before you was fought for tooth and nail. I know no dragon is wont to part from his hoard, so I did my best to guard it in your stead.”

  “You did, didn’t you?” Hugh’s fingers slotted between Finch’s. Finch, startled either by the gesture or the dreaminess of his voice, whipped around to look Hugh in the eyes. Hugh’s heart constricted. How could Finch be so beautiful?

  “Sir?” It was little more than a timid and hopeful whisper, but Hugh heard it all the same. He was attuned to Finch in the same way that the ocean was attuned to the moon—pulled in by his gravity and bound to his every move. It was impossible to tell for sure, but by the way Finch’s lips had parted and his eyelids had drooped, Hugh could swear that Finch felt a pull to him, too.

  Hugh came closer. It was impossible not to. With the air thick between them and his heart racing like it was, now was the perfect time. Finch would be his, and Hugh would be Finch’s, and he could rest easy knowing that his secretary would forever be his most cherished possession. “I want to ask you something.”

  Finch’s dark lashes fanned over his cheeks, and he tilted his chin upward
the slightest degree. “Yes?”

  Hugh’s pulse rushed in his ears. The slumbering dragon inside him stirred.

  Mine, it proclaimed upon spotting Finch. MINE.

  “I wanted to know,” Hugh said, more excited and terrified than he’d ever been, “if you’d—”

  “Sir!” boomed a crotchety old voice from down the hall. It belonged to Francis. “The guests have begun to arrive.”

  The moment shattered. Finch slipped his hand out of Hugh’s and busied himself with smoothing the front of his jacket, then took a nervous step into the ballroom. “I should go check in on the catering staff,” he offered by way of explanation. “I mustn’t keep them waiting.”

  “Find me,” Hugh urged. “Find me at the ball, Finch. Tell me you will.”

  “Of course, sir.” Finch bowed his head and fled, leaving Hugh alone with his regrets.

  No guests were waiting in the front hall when Hugh arrived, but someone else was—Hugh’s brother Bertram. Hugh came to a stop upon spotting him, instantly nauseous. How had his family found out about the ball? He’d been so careful to cover his tracks and knew Finch had done the same, but here was Bertram nevertheless, twisting a diamond plucked from the staircase this way and that between his fingers like he hadn’t seen a thousand others like it in his lifetime. Perhaps, if Hugh turned tail and booked it for the ballroom, Bertram would get bored and leave. Hugh spun around and was about to make a mad dash back down the hall when there came the bright clink of a gemstone falling onto wood. Bertram cleared his throat. “Hello, brother.”