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Harvey gives amazing blowjobs. Mike shouldn’t be surprised about this. Harvey is amazing at everything, but somehow when Mike pictured this (and he did, a lot) it was him on his knees, Harvey’s head tipped back. The fantasy never went further than that because that’s when Mike usually comes and has to clean up and starts feel vaguely ashamed about jerking off thinking about his boss. Only vaguely, though. Harvey is hot.
Mike’s not sure he could have imagined this. There was nothing submissive about Harvey sucking him off. He wasn’t on his knees; they had actually made it to bed at that point. A blowjob from Harvey meant Harvey taking possession of Mike’s dick like he did every other part of his life.
Mike was on his knees first, of course. His suit pants might be ruined from their contact with the floor of Harvey’s gorgeous apartment. Or maybe not. He probably gets a cleaning lady in once a day. Mike’s pretty sure he didn’t give the world’s best blowjob, too ready to come himself from the fact that he was here. Doing this.
Harvey hasn’t spoken yet. Mike’s been enjoying the afterglow, but in a moment he’s going to start to get nervous, and then he’s going to say something and Harvey will tell him to get out. There are times when Mike doesn’t mind—okay, loves—being the puppy who nips at Harvey’s heels, but this has to change things. If Harvey tells him to get out, it’s going to hurt.
The silence stretches out. He should say something. He should wait for Harvey to say something. Harvey always knows exactly what to say. If Harvey did this tonight, Mike can’t be the first associate he’s taken home. He must have a plan.
Harvey stretches. Mike tries to watch without seeming to. He’s pretty sure he’s not successful. He’s never seen Harvey mussed before, and he is now, wearing only a shirt, unbuttoned, one sleeve rolled up, the other gaping at his wrist. His pompadour has wobbled somewhat of course, a few ends escaping. He’s naked below this waist. His stomach is taut and olive-toned as the rest of his skin. Mike starts to get hard again.
Harvey resettles his arms and looks at Mike’s dick. “How old are you?” he asks.
Mike swallows and presses his lips together. They’re bruised from where Harvey kissed them earlier. Harvey kissed him. That’s almost as unbelievable as the blowjob. “You know how old I am,” says Mike. “I’m twenty-four.”
Harvey looks back at his face. A bit regretfully, Mike will tell himself later. He sighs. “I don’t make a habit of this.”
“Of what?” Mike asks.
“Of sleeping with associates.”
“I haven’t fallen asleep yet.”
“Don’t play dumb,” says Harvey. “It’s against firm policy, one of the few I try to obey. So let’s act like the adults one of us is and pretend this didn’t happen, okay?”
Yeah, that’s exactly what Mike didn’t want to hear. He must look as pained as he feels because Harvey adds, “If this makes you uncomfortable, I could transfer you to another partner.”
“How would that work? You—”
“Yeah, that’s the problem isn’t it,” says Harvey. “I have more power over you even than a normal associate.” He says it like he’s not the “I” in the sentence, like he’s discussing someone else’s case. Something hard and painful gathers in Mike’s throat.
“It’s not a problem. Everyone knows Louis is having sex with—”
“Did you just compare me to Louis?”
Mike opens his mouth to apologize. Harvey holds up a warning hand then raises it to rub his forehead. “Pretend this didn’t happen. Go home. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Do you want me to—?”
“I’ll see you on Monday,” says Harvey firmly.
**
Harvey does seem totally capable of pretending nothing happened. And Mike is too, mostly. Harvey still puts him in a state of delicious, agonizing arousal, but that’s nothing new. The banter is the same. Mike attempts not to follow Harvey around like a love-sick puppy, and fails just as miserably as he did before.
Harvey clearly isn’t pining. He got whatever it was out of his system. Mike tries to be grateful for the pictures he still has in his head. He’s not going to forget what Harvey looked like when he glanced up from between Mike’s legs. He’s not going to forget the tingle in his lips the moment after Harvey stopped kissing him.
They weren’t drunk the first time. They are the second time. The firm wins a big case and Jessica rents out some fancy restaurant in midtown for the party. He sticks to Harvey’s side like glue during the party, because Harvey has him pinned there, a proud arm over his shoulder whenever Mike thinks about talking to someone else. They both did well on this case.
When the party is winding down and Harvey’s breath smells like twenty-year-old scotch and Mike accidentally-on-purpose brushes up against him, Harvey asks, “Is this happening again?” He has the overly precise diction of a drunk man. He sounds as biddable as he’s ever likely to be.
“Yes,” says Mike firmly.
They take a cab back to Harvey’s place. Mike watches the blocks pass out the window. New York has been so hot this summer, that even at night it looks like a desert, baked clean.
Mike presses himself up against Harvey and kisses him in the elevator. Twice and Harvey won’t be able to pretend this didn’t happen. Mike isn’t sure what happens after that—it’s not like he wants Harvey to be his boyfriend or something—but twice means a third time might happen, and after that it’s a habit.
“I’m too drunk to come,” says Harvey. “But you’re young. I bet you’re not.”
He’s not, not back on Harvey’s bed with Harvey’s mouth and hands on him. It takes a while though, a maddening teetering on the edge before he falls off it, like he’s falling into deep pool and never quite reaching bottom.
Harvey flops next to him when he’s finished. Mike rolls over and props himself up on his elbows. Harvey’s sheets are amazing, smooth and cool as silk. “Your sheets are amazing,” he says. “You ready yet? Or still too drunk.”
Harvey drops his head into the pillows. “Too drunk. Fuck. I’m betraying my principles and I don’t even get to come.”
Mike waits a few seconds. “How about now?”
Harvey glares at him for a moment and then jumps on top of him, pressing the air out of Mike’s lungs. It stops being anything like playful the moment Harvey arrives and his dick is pressing through his boxers against the insides of Mike’s thighs.
Harvey runs his hand down Mike’s back. His hand reaches the top of Mike’s ass. He dips one finger into the top of the cleft. Mike wriggles away.
“Turn over,” says Harvey.
Mike does. If Harvey’s tough to take in a suit, he’s ten times harder to deal with mostly naked and on top of Mike, a disappointed expression on his face.
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
“I’m not. I’ve—”
“Oh, I’m sure there have been plenty of girls. That’s not what I’m talking about. You’re a virgin, it’s so sweet.” He doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s sweet.
Mike perks up anyway. “Really?”
“No.” He purses his lips. “I want to fuck you at some point, and fucking virgins is annoying.”
It’s like Harvey is talking directly to his dick the way it leaps up and presses against Harvey’s thigh so hard and sudden, Mike thinks he might pass out.
Harvey smirks. “I’m glad you like that suggestion.”
He leans over Mike and opens the drawer next to his bedside table. He pulls out a little . . . something Mike’s mind refuses to process. It’s green, silicone, about the size of a thumb. A thumb with a swollen knuckle and a flared base.
He hands it to Mike. “Take this home. Play with it. When you want a bigger one, let me know.”
Mike almost drops it. His mouth has gone very dry. He tries to swallow. It’s not really working. “Play with it?”
Harvey rolls his eyes. “Lube this up, put it in your ass and jerk off. When you want a bigger one—” here he smirks “—and you will, believe me, ask me.”
“Do you want me to go home and . . . now?”
Harvey gets an unreadable expression his face. “You can stay if you want. I’m going for a ten mile run in the Park tomorrow morning. Unless you want to run with me, you’ll leave then.”
Mike drunk-sleeps, intense and not very restful. True to his word, Harvey kicks him out at 6am.
Mike takes the subway home. He stupidly put it—the thing—in his pocket rather than his briefcase and he clutches it all the way home to make sure it won’t fall out onto the subway floor.
A Saturday stretches out before him, free and empty. He has to pick up dry cleaning, go for a run himself maybe, although not ten miles, sheesh. Maybe shop for beer so he has something to do between coming home and collapsing after working until 10pm every night. And he has that thing in his pocket and Harvey wants him to play with it.
It’s only 7am. On an ordinary Saturday, he’d still be in bed now, still asleep. He peels off his rumpled suit and throws it on the floor. Take that, Harvey, I don’t do everything you ask.
He is going to do this, though. He already has lube because a past girlfriend preferred fucking with it, and then he realized how much better it was for jerking off than lotion.
He lies down in his bed and looks at the thing. It’s small but it’s not nothing. He’s never put anything in there before, never even wanted to. But Harvey wants to fuck him, and Mike really really really wants him to. He even sort of thought of it before, but more abstractly, not imagining the mechanics of it, just the idea of it, more that he would have Harvey’s full attention, Harvey inside him, all around him . . .
Okay, Mike’s really hard now. He puts some lube on the thing, spreads his legs and pushes it in. It not unpleasant, just odd. It makes him aware of that part of his body in a way he’s never been before, as though a bright hot light is shining there. When he starts to touch himself he can feel it there as well, a tugging counterpoint to the more familiar sensations in his dick. Is that what Harvey would feel like? Or maybe just Harvey’s finger?
Mike pictures it, a frown of concentration on Harvey’s face as he gets Mike ready, and Mike would flush with embarrassment and pleasure to have Harvey doing that to him. And then he’s coming harder than he ever has before, throbbing in his dick and his ass and he’d be ashamed except it feels so goddamn good that he’s going to do it again just as soon as he recovers.
**
He goes into Harvey’s office first thing. He’s washed it—the toy—the, let’s call it what it is, the buttplug. And he’s researched what else is available. That’s what the internet is for. He couldn’t bring himself to go buy one, but Harvey has a collection. Harvey will help him out.
“Um, I did . . . you know. And—” he’s blushing deep crimson “—you were right. I need—I want a, um—”
Harvey fixes him with a look. “Really? You had to come and tell me this first thing?”
There’s something under his annoyance, though, something Mike’s never seen before, or never known to look for. Harvey might think he’s ridiculous, but Harvey also wants him. “Tomorrow, okay. I didn’t think—look. Just. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
Harvey rolls his eyes. “Go do your job.”
**
The email from Harvey just says look in your desk drawer. Mike isn’t going to look until tonight, after most of the associates have gone home. After Louis, God help him, after Louis has left and can’t magically appear over Mike’s shoulder.
Five minutes pass. He has to look. He eases the drawer open slowly. It’s in a paper bag. Of course it is. Harvey isn’t going to be carrying around a bare buttplug in the office, although if anyone could get away with it, he could.
He reaches his hand in to get at least a feel for it. It’s the same texture, but bigger. He can’t tell how much bigger with his hand stuck in the drawer in the bag, but definitely bigger. Tonight he’s going to—
“What’s in the drawer, Michael?” asks Louis. Fuck, he moves stealthily for such a big guy.
Mike slides his hand out quickly, slams the drawer shut and locks it. “Uh, nothing. Nothing!”
Louis leans over conspiratorially. “You know, Michael, you shouldn’t bring sex toys into the office,” he says silkily.
“I . . . it’s not . . .”
Louis smiles. Mike’s knees go weak. “A joke! Good one, Louis.” Louis taps his fingers on Mike’s cube wall, turns a precise ninety degrees and walks away. Mike’s heart pounds for a good five minutes before settling down again.
**
It’s bigger. Longer. Maybe an inch and a half in diameter, twice as big around as the last one and more than twice as long. Harvey could have eased him in a bit more than this. Mike has no doubt he has every possible variation. This is some kind of test. This is—maybe Harvey is as eager as Mike for this, or more so. Mike grins. He can do this.
It’s the same soft silicone as the other one. Harvey would be harder than this. Mike lubes it up and starts pressing it in. It’s an odd angle. He can’t quite get the force he wants on it, and it’s so much bigger. He rubs his flagging hard-on as he tries to press it in more. The flared shape wants to slide out again.
He bites his lip and rubs the tight skin around it with more lube. There it goes—oh God—it hits something like he’s never experienced before, like a punch in the stomach if something like that could be pleasurable. He shifts again and there it is again. His hand on his dick is like vanilla frosting but that, that feeling inside him is rich cake, it’s fucking amazing, and when he comes into his fist it’s like it rolls out of him from the soles of his feet up to his head.
He lies there shaking with it for a few minutes until his body stops pulsing around the thing. Maybe he’ll leave it there and go again. Fuck, that was good. Almost as good as Harvey would be.
Mike looks at the clock. He left work an hour and a half ago. It’s nearly midnight. Harvey gives the illusion of never sleeping, but he’ll probably be asleep now, up early to exercise. Now that Harvey’s a senior partner he likes to appear to swan in and out of the office on a whim, but Mike knows he works like a fiend.
He won’t thank Mike for waking him up. His apartment is seventy blocks away.
Mike puts on his t-shirt and jeans and gets in a cab. He starts thinking better of it on the way there and almost asks the cabby to turn around. Almost.
Harvey’s building has a doorman, who recognizes him well enough to let him up without buzzing Harvey. Mike doesn’t know if that’s going to be a good thing or a bad thing.
When he knocks on the door Harvey answers in his pajamas, or what passes for them, a threadbare gray Henley and gray boxer briefs, all touchably soft.
“I—” says Mike.
Harvey squints at him. “What are you doing here?”
It comes out all in a rush: “I-did-it-so-now-you’re-going-to-fuck-me-right?”
Harvey grabs him by the shoulder. “Get in here. Don’t let my neighbors hear you say stuff like that.”
“Come on, Harvey.” He tries to give Harvey puppy-dog eyes. It doesn’t look like they’re working.
“I’ve reconsidered. Your annoyingness has nothing to do with your virginity.”
Mike doesn’t like the sound of that “reconsidered”. “I’m not a virgin anymore,” he says.
Harvey’s face goes dark as a thunder cloud. “You’re not—I didn’t mean—God, Mike, I didn’t want you to do anything stupid—”
“Hey. Hey,” says Mike. “I just meant the toy. That thing was big.” He’s dancing inside, though. He can make Harvey as flustered as Harvey makes him feel.
“Was?” Harvey asks.
Mike shifts a little. He can still feel the ghost of it, pressing into him. Harvey’s eyes follow his motion. “You are . . .” says Harvey, but he doesn’t finish. Instead he kisses Mike. He doesn’t kiss like he did last time, all dominance and possession. If a kiss can be relieved, that’s what this one is, until Mike pulls him closer, and then Harvey’s mouth is taking him again, opening him up.
They break for a moment, leaving Mike gasping. “Fuck me,” he says. “Please, please fuck me.”
“You’re gonna kill me,” Harvey murmurs. He hooks his hand into the front of Mike’s jeans and tugs him back into the bedroom. He pulls Mike down on top of him in the bed. It’s dim in here, lit only by the lights of other apartment buildings. Harvey is warm and solid underneath him, and for once Mike isn’t scared to touch Harvey wherever he wants, arms, chest, his thighs rubbing against Harvey’s waist.
Harvey rolls him over and tugs Mike’s jeans and boxers off his hips. He’ll never be able to look at Harvey’s frown of concentration the same way again.
Harvey puts his hand around Mike’s cock, bringing him from hard to hard-and-ready-now-now-now. “Fuck me,” says Mike again.
“I thought I gave the orders,” Harvey murmurs.
“Please,” says Mike. He’ll beg if he has to. He fucked every particle of shame out of himself tonight on Harvey’s ridiculous blue buttplug. “I’m all ready.”
Harvey reaches behind his balls and touches his entrance. “You are ready. Did you just . . .?”
Mike bites his lip and nods. Harvey touching him there is worlds different from Harvey’s toys, from touching himself.
“Next time I want to do this, get you all loose and ready,” says Harvey, voice gone low.
Mike leans up on his elbows. “I thought virgins were annoying.”
Harvey licks his lips. “I don’t want you to . . .” He trails off.
“Are you jealous of your own toys? Cause that’s pretty stupid. But also flattering.
“Shut up,” says Harvey. Mike grins. He is jealous.
Harvey slicks him up, his fingers blunt and rougher than the cool edges of his toys. Mike is achingly sensitive already.
He opens easily to Harvey’s fingers, and then Harvey’s sliding on a condom and pulling Mike’s legs over his shoulders and pressing in, over already stretched flesh. He’s not much bigger than that last toy, but he’s—it’s Harvey, it’s all of him, not just his cock.
Although for a few minutes that’s all Mike can think about. It’s like he’s filled up all the way to his scalp. He can’t think of anything else except Harvey inside of him.
He’s not moving yet, so Mike hitches his hips to pull him closer. Harvey makes a sound, nothing Mike’s ever heard from him before. Mike opens his eyes and looks up at him. Harvey’s pupils look huge in the dimness. His hair is soft on the inside of Mike’s thighs. Mike’s cock pokes his stomach. He doesn’t know how he’s going to stand this, and still be who he was; nothing will be the same now, they can never pretend this didn’t happen.
“Say ‘please’ again,” says Harvey, but not like a command, more like he’s begging himself.
“Please,” says Mike, as Harvey pushes into him. His thrust picks Mike’s hips up; he pulls back and Mike touches down to earth again. “Please,” says Mike again. “Yes.”
He’s tender and tired and shaking with the sensations. Harvey gives him too much and too little with each movement. Mike half sits up and pulls Harvey’s face down to kiss him, broken kisses, pulled apart on every thrust.
He’s not going fast, Mike realizes, he’s being gentle, holding himself back. Mike curves a hand over Harvey’s back. He’s shaking from the tension. “You won’t hurt me,” says Mike. “I want this. I want this.”
“Are you sure?” Harvey asks.
Mike nods. Then Harvey’s really fucking him, hard and bruising on the down stroke. Mike’s going to feel this tomorrow with every step, it’s already too much, pain too mixed with pleasure, but he can’t make himself want it to stop. When Harvey comes Mike forgets everything else in watching him, in feeling the pulse of Harvey’s cock in his ass, the sublime and ridiculous expression on his face.
He’s so beautiful. He seems to put himself back together as Mike watches. “You’re . . . I don’t know.” He strokes Mike’s dick until he comes. If the last time was like a punch this is more like free-fall, like falling apart, feeling helpless and small in Harvey’s hands.
Mike doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Harvey doesn’t pull out until he’s starting to soften. He throws the condom away and pulls Mike to him, spooning around him. He doesn’t say anything. Outside city lights wink off as the night grows lighter. Mike closes his eyes.
Harvey’s skin is warm and damp against Mike’s back. He touches Mike’s shoulder, his chest, saying things with his fingers that he can’t with his voice, at least not yet. Mike thinks maybe he can understand this language, if he concentrates enough. Or maybe he doesn’t need to. Maybe knowing Harvey is saying something to him is enough.