Finch: A Forbidden Desires Spin-Off Story

by Piper Scott

  Emma’s eyes went very wide.

  Meanwhile, the elevator beeped angrily, bapping Hugh’s foot several times in quick succession. Hugh scowled at it. “It seems this blasted elevator’s developed an attitude problem, so I’ll be brief—would you track down our event planner and let her know I’ll be late to arrive to the party? I’m afraid Finch has fallen ill, and I won’t be able to enjoy the evening until I’ve personally seen to his recovery.”

  Several of the kitchen staff gasped. Hugh had to sympathize. Finch had always been a paragon of health and responsibility, and to hear that he was out of commission on the most stressful night of the year had to be shocking.

  Emma’s cheeks turned pink. “O-Of course, sir.”

  “Wonderful!” Hugh smiled, hoping to set them all at ease. “I appreciate it. Now, to bring Finch to bed.”

  Finch moaned.

  One of the younger members of the staff—a willowy young man with innocent eyes and a round face—went bright red and looked away.

  How bizarre.

  “Thank you all for your hard work tonight,” Hugh said as he removed his foot from between the doors. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

  Not a single soul acknowledged his comment as the elevator door closed. They watched in silence, some very pale, some exceedingly flushed, but all wide-eyed. It was concerning, to say the least. The stress must have been getting to them, too. Hugh would have to see to it the entire staff received extra vacation time, lest they all start to collapse on him. But that would come later. Finch was his immediate priority, and he would not allow himself to be distracted.

  “What a strange evening,” he said to himself as Finch’s scent filled the enclosed elevator. Wanting more, Hugh nuzzled the top of his head. “Finch, I’m not sure what it is you’re wearing, but this scent… it’s simply irresistible. You must wear it more often.”

  “No,” Finch croaked.

  “Well, I suppose you’re right. If you were to wear it all the time, it would lose its allure.” Hugh breathed it in deep, hoping to commit it to memory. “Ah… how divine.”

  The elevator opened onto the correct floor, admitting Hugh into the servants’ wing, where Finch’s quarters were located. It was an easy walk to Finch’s door, but Hugh found himself reluctant to leave the cabin. It was small, and while it wasn’t sophisticated, its walls were made of an alluring metal finish that scratched a dragony itch inside of him. What’s more, the space was enclosed, and in it, every breath he took was thick with Finch’s scent. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to lay Finch down here, coil around him protectively, nose into the crook of his neck, and breathe, and breathe, and breathe…

  Hugh only snapped to when the elevator door began to slide shut. He intercepted it with his foot and exited into the hallway, but while his head had come to its senses, his heart wouldn’t stop racing. Where the devil had the floor idea come from? Finch needed a bed, not an elevator. A cold, hard metal surface would never do.

  Although, come to think of it, Finch did seem to be running a temperature. He was unusually hot to the touch.

  “Perhaps the stress is getting to me as well.” Hugh chuckled. “What a strange night this has been so far, and it’s barely even started. Now, let’s get you settled before my daydreams get any more bizarre.”

  24

  Hugh

  Hugh carried Finch to his room, where he laid him in bed on top of his sheets and loosened the knot of Finch’s tie. Once it was out of the way, Hugh undid the buttons of his shirt and removed his clothing from the waist up, letting Finch’s feverish body breathe. He hung the clothing on the back of a nearby chair, then returned to the bedside. Finch seemed to be coming to.

  “Mmph,” Finch groaned from behind closed lips.

  “Hush, Finch. There’s no need to speak. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you. You can count on me.” Hugh undid Finch’s belt and removed his pants and shoes, marveling all the while at his svelte figure. Sure, he’d noticed it at the fitting, but it hadn’t struck him then in the way it struck him now. To Hugh’s great embarrassment, his eyes weren’t the only part of him to notice the change—his cock twitched, too, roused by the beauty before him. Determined not to let his libido interfere with what was right, Hugh put the remainder of Finch’s clothing aside and came to hold his hand. “While I’m no Everard,” he said, “I do have limited healing abilities. With some luck, what I can offer will be enough to help you overcome the effects of… whatever it is that’s left you in such a state.”

  Finch only moaned, so Hugh went forward with channeling his magic into him.

  “It may feel strange,” Hugh explained in a soft voice as his magic diffused through Finch’s veins. “Unfortunately, I’m rather clumsy at all of this. I don’t tend to get close enough to others to ever have the opportunity to practice, and it means I’m, well, rusty. I hope you’ll forgive any unpleasantness. I hear magic can sometimes feel a little cold.”

  While it was true, the more he channeled, the hotter Finch seemed to get.

  “It, um…” Hugh trailed off. The scent of Finch’s cologne was getting stronger, and it was hard to focus on anything else. If Hugh hadn’t known better, he would have thought Finch was going into heat, but that was impossible. Not only had he not fully absorbed the stimulant, but Hugh had been with several omegas while trying for a clutch, and none of their heats had ever smelled like this. This was… artificial. Chemical, almost, although not in the pungent, irritating way he typically associated with the word. There was simply no way…

  Hugh zoned out.

  What had he been talking about again?

  When the thought didn’t return to him, he cupped Finch’s cheek with his free hand and traced his thumb over its soft skin. The heat felt nice against his palm. Natural. As if Finch had been designed for a dragon’s touch.

  Mine, Hugh’s dragon insisted.

  Mine, Hugh agreed.

  “You know, Finch,” Hugh said as his dragon paced restlessly in his mind. “There was a question I was going to ask you tonight. A very important question. One I hope might help alleviate some of your stress. I’ve said it before, but you truly are a treasure, and I… I never want to let you go.”

  Finch’s expression sharpened. “Sir?”

  “It’s not very traditional, but… since you’re not a Disgrace, I wasn’t sure what else to do, or how else to keep you. I… I want to know if you’ll be part of my hoard.”

  Finch’s eyelids fluttered, and it took all of Hugh’s resolve not to kiss him then and there. Damn that smell! It was making him want what he couldn’t have. If only he could slide into bed beside Finch and claim him like his dragon wanted. Like he wanted. But it was a ridiculous notion, and entirely inappropriate, since his future mate was waiting for him just a floor below.

  “If you will,” Hugh continued, heart hammering in anticipation and arousal, “I’ll take care of you always. Anything you want, no matter how much it costs, will be yours. You’ll be my living treasure, and I the dragon who guards it jealously. Just…” Hugh trailed off again, smitten with the softness of Finch’s skin and how beautiful he looked tonight. How cruel it was that such a gorgeous creature should exist and not be a suitable mate. “Just consider it. The offer will always stand. Even after I find my mate, I can’t bear the thought of life without you.”

  The magic Hugh poured into Finch finally seemed to take effect. Finch blinked several times in rapid succession, then lifted a shaking hand to lay it over Hugh’s. “Sir…”

  “I don’t care if it will be a struggle,” Hugh told him. He looked down into Finch’s dark eyes and felt a tug, like Finch really had been made for him. “Life is nothing but a series of obstacles, after all. Conquering them for you—with you—will make it all worth it.” Hugh gradually eased the flow of his magic until it had ceased and smiled kindly at his secretary. “So, what do you think, Finch? Will you let me keep you forever? Will you accept the role of the most precious treasure in my hoard?”

&nb
sp; Finch’s eyes brimmed with emotion, but rather than agree, he shook his head wildly. “Sir, I… I can’t give you an answer yet. Not now. It’s imperative that you leave immediately. My heat—”

  “Bertram said it would be fine!” Hugh patted Finch’s thigh, trying very hard not to think about how touching such an intimate part of Finch made him feel. “The stimulant wasn’t entirely absorbed.”

  “No, sir. It won’t be fine. My heat was due next week, and I can already feel it starting to take hold. You need to leave before it gets any worse. I don’t want either of us to do something we’ll regret.”

  Come to think of it, the artificial smell had faded away, leaving something much more natural—something Hugh did recognize as heat. He swallowed nervously and looked Finch over again, from his sweet, serious dark eyes to the hint of pubic hair above the waistline of Finch’s new underwear to the stiffening cock just below. Would he feel regret were he to work Finch through his heat? Their union would be fruitless. Finch wasn’t a Disgrace, so he wouldn’t bear Hugh a clutch. If Hugh’s previous attempts with Pedigree omegas were any indication, he wouldn’t conceive at all.

  Hugh traced from Finch’s thigh to his hip. The spark of excitement he felt as his fingertips ran over the fabric of Finch’s underwear was all the confirmation he needed.

  “Would you like me to help you, Finch?” Hugh asked in hushed tones. “I told you I would be there for you no matter what, to care for you and keep you safe. I don’t see why this should be any exception.”

  Finch’s face went bright red. “Sir, you must already be under the influence of my scent. Please, leave. Everyone is waiting for you downstairs. You’ve wanted for so long to find your mate, and she’s finally within your reach. Besides, if you don’t act soon, your sanctioned period to produce a clutch will end, and—”

  “And it’s of no matter.” Hugh leaned down to kiss Finch’s forehead. The scent of him grew stronger and more delicious by the second, and while Hugh became progressively more aroused, he was determined to stay the course. He would be strong for Finch. “What kind of a dragon would I be if I didn’t give my all to protect and cherish that which I already hold dear? You are more important than a ball, Finch. More important than any Disgrace. More important than a clutch. None of that means half as much to me as you do. If you want me, I’ll give myself to you wholly and without a single regret. For as long as you shall live, I will never take a mate. You are the only one for me.”

  Tears glistened in Finch’s eyes. “You’re certain?”

  “Very.”

  “Then I will be your treasure, sir.” Finch squeezed his hand gently, and Hugh’s heart soared. “I’ll be yours in body and spirit for as long as my short life will last, and I’ll do everything in my power to make you as happy as you make me.”

  Hugh had never felt such a rush. Knowing Finch was his, even if they would never be mates, brought him even greater joy than when he’d finally fished that coin out from the stream behind Drake Manor. He couldn’t help himself—he had to ask. “May I kiss you, Finch?”

  But he needn’t have said a word, because Finch had already tangled his fingers in Hugh’s hair and upon hearing the question, kissed Hugh like no secretary ever should.

  25

  Finch

  Hugh tasted every bit as sweet as Finch knew he would. At the same time, he was wilder than Finch had expected. Perhaps it was his dragon, or perhaps it was a part of Hugh he’d heretofore only seen in small flashes. Finch tended to think that Hugh was like he acted—a pure innocent. Logic screamed that couldn’t be the case. He was over nine hundred years old and had taken the heats of countless omegas. Finch, on the other hand, only had his training. Despite being in his late thirties, he was coming to Hugh’s bed—or rather his own bed—as untouched as any Pedigree omega fresh from a cloister. He’d suffered through dozens of heats, but this was the very first he wouldn’t spend alone, barricaded in his room and nearly out of his mind despite his heat dampeners.

  Hugh would be his first alpha, and this his first real chance at conception.

  Not that he would conceive, because he was a Disgrace, and not a dragon, but the thought tantalized him all the same. What if he was the one who was wrong? What if Hugh actually did put a clutch in him? The thought made Finch’s toes curl. “Sir—”

  Hugh kissed him hard, cutting Finch off before he could say anything more. “Hugh,” he whispered against Finch’s lips. “My name is Hugh, Finch. Now that you’re mine, you can use it whenever you want.”

  Finch blinked at Hugh, his heart pounding so hard, he thought it might break. This wasn’t the Hugh he knew. Well, not exactly. This Hugh wasn’t dithering or being absentminded. He was confident and firm.

  Hugh’s erection pushed against Finch’s thigh.

  Extremely firm, as it turned out.

  “Hugh,” Finch repeated, but it felt strange. He stole another few quick kisses from the man, then quietly admitted, “I’ll try to use it, but old habits are hard to break.”

  “All I can ask is for you to do your best,” Hugh replied. He kissed Finch firmly then, his mouth far more sweet and skillful than Finch would have ever expected. It was the kind of kiss a man could get lost in, but before that could happen, Finch needed to be transparent with his employer in a way he’d never been before.

  “I need you to know,” he said, “that this is my first heat without dampeners, and also my first with an alpha.”

  Finch expected Hugh to blush and stammer. He did neither. Instead, a light flashed in his plum-colored eyes. Hugh’s expression softened after that, and he looked down at Finch with tremendous affection and tenderness. “Is that so?”

  Finch nodded, unable to speak and mesmerized by the adoration in Hugh’s eyes.

  “I’m glad you told me. This changes everything. I promise, I’ll be gentle.” Hugh kissed him more softly now, like Finch really was a treasure to be protected at all costs. While he did, he ran his fingers over Finch’s clothed erection. Finch held back a moan as his cock twitched in need. He wanted to be held and stroked and filled over and over until his dragon’s massive strength wore out. Instinctively, he pushed into Hugh’s hand and let Hugh feel how hard he was. Hugh squeezed gently, and Finch shamelessly ground against his palm. His slick had started to flow, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he was drenched with it.

  “I need you,” Finch whispered as he pleasured himself with his employer’s hand. “I need you so much. Please.”

  Hugh kissed away each pleading word, taking them into himself, then said the words Finch would never forget, “Anything for you, Finch, my love, my treasure, my everything. I’m nothing if not yours, and will be for all of time.”

  Somehow—Finch was fuzzy on the details—he and Hugh lost their clothes and lay skin to delicious skin. They kissed over and over and over and Finch felt like he might be drowning. Or melting. Melting was a definite possibility. He was wet. So wet. And so hot as well. Even naked, he felt like he was being roasted alive.

  “Need,” he gasped between kisses. “Please. Please.”

  Hugh licked up the side of Finch’s neck then bit the skin behind his ear. “Anything, Finch. Anything at all. Tell me and it’s yours.”

  “Need…” Finch tried to think, but it was so hard. Hard like him and hard like Hugh. But there was something missing besides Hugh’s knot, and it felt like if he didn’t get it, he would die. If only his heat-addled brain would clue him in to what it was.

  “Yes?” Hugh’s hips rocked up against him, driving his cock along Finch’s lower abdomen. Sparks of pleasure went off behind Finch’s eyes, causing him to gasp and arch his back. Wild lust surged through him, overthrowing what little decorum he had left and bringing him to work his hips in tandem with Hugh’s. How could he help it? He’d wanted Hugh forever, and now he was getting his wish.

  It was all so hot. So impossibly hot.

  Finch didn’t know how much more he could take. “I need cold,” he blurted, but not ice, or a
chilly bath, or air conditioning. Only one thing would do. “Metal.”

  Hugh’s nostrils flared. “Gold?”

  That sounded like utter bliss. Finch imagined the way the coins in Hugh’s hoard would press against his body and how their cool, flat faces would be a reprieve from the feverish heat radiating from his skin. “God, yes. Please.”

  “Come, then.” Hugh stood, then picked Finch up in a bridal carry as if he weighed no more than one of Finch’s rats. Once Finch was secure in his arms, Hugh carried him to the door of his room and managed to open it without dropping him. Finch suspected magic had been involved.

  “I’m naked, sir,” Finch murmured as he nuzzled against Hugh’s neck. With the way he was burning up, modesty was the least of his worries, but he thought it prudent to mention. The staff would no doubt be scarred to see him in the nude, never mind the visiting Disgraces.

  Hugh bent his head down so they were nose to nose. “It’s of no consequence. I won’t let them see you. You are mine, Finch. My treasure to keep forever. I’m a selfish, greedy dragon, you know, and I’d rather cut my own arm off than have to share. You’re safe with me. I’ll keep you out of sight. And then, when we’re alone and you’re bathed in gold, I’ll make sure you remember it always.”

  That said, he whisked Finch away, and like when he’d curled around Finch and tucked him under his wing, Finch had never felt more safe. The difference now was that he’d also never felt more loved.

  There was another break in time when Finch’s heat took control, then Finch came to and found himself half-buried in old gold coins and decorated with jewelry and gemstones. He was in Hugh’s hoard, he realized, and had been laid atop one of his mountains of treasure. It was all so cool on his skin. So mercifully, blissfully cool. Finch twisted his hips in an attempt to dig himself deeper into it, but all he managed to do was send coins clattering down the mountain and dislodge a large pearl that had been resting in the dip of his navel. The pearl clicked as it hit the gold surrounding him, but before it could bounce its way down the heap, it was seized by familiar fingers—Hugh’s.