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The next morning, Mike wakes up with his hand in his pants and someone pounding on his door. He jerks, almost falling off the couch, as he looks around in panic. He needs to answer the door. And also zip up his pants. And preferably not in that order. Shuffling across his tiny apartment, Mike straightens his clothes. Which are the same he wore yesterday. He glares over his shoulder at the bottle of tequila on his coffee table, as if it's the alcohol's fault that he woke up with his dick in his hand.
He pauses, staring down at his palms and then back at his door. Thinking quickly, he rushes over to the kitchen sink and begins scrubbing his hands with soap and hot water. The pounding continues, shaking the door in its frame and Mike grimaces. “Just a minute!” He calls, hastily drying off on a towel. It takes four giant strides to cross his so-very-small apartment and when he is going to move out already?
Taking a deep breath, Mike opens the door and immediately considers slamming it shut. Harvey is standing in the hallway, looking so out of fucking place in his tailored suit and slicked back hair. “Morning sunshine,” he grins with a face-splitting grin.
'You look like a shark,' Mike almost tells him before shaking his head. “Um.”
“Are you going to let me in, Michael?” Harvey teases with his hands in his pockets. Mike swallows thickly and steps out of the way – a nonverbal invitation into his abode. “How are you feeling?” Harvey asks without glancing at him, opting instead to look all over his stupid shitty fucking apartment.
“I... called you last night, didn't I?” Mike asks slowly and Harvey fixes him with another shark tooth grin. 'Oh my God, don't eat me.' He thinks frantically with wide eyes. “And I said some pretty... inappropriate things, didn't I?”
“Oh, I wouldn't call them inappropriate.” Harvey muses, turning on his heel to face Mike. He reaches up to pat him on the cheek. “I'd call them... sexy.” Mike feels the color drain out of his face as his eyes double in size. “Go take a shower. We'll chat after.” And, just like that, Harvey has claimed Mike's apartment as his office and dismissed him.
Before showering, Mike throws up no less than five times. He hopes Harvey can't hear, but knows that he can. Goddamn thin walls. It used to be hilarious, when Trevor would come over and they'd listen to the couple next door enthusiastically fucking. She used to make cat noises. It was exceptionally fantuckingfastic. Now, when he's vomiting up his shame – which is, oddly enough, tequila flavored – he can't help but bemoan the cheap craftsmanship of his building. And then throw up some more.
He tries to make the shower as short as possible. Quick shampoo. Quick scrub down. God, his soap smells amazing. And nauseating. At the same time. For a brief moment, Mike considers shaving but decides against it. He doesn't quite trust his coordination with sharp instruments. Once clean, he stands under the shower head, just letting the spray beat steadily against his neck and shoulders. Maybe, if he's completely and utterly sanitary, Harvey won't murder the fuck out of his face.
Dejected, Mike turns the water off and grabs a towel. What did he even say last night? Mostly, he remembers Harvey's voice – nothing that he said, but the tone of his voice. Dark. Wanting. Almost angry. Mike groans and leans his head against the mirror. He stays like that for a minute until the taste in his mouth sickens him enough to inspire oral hygiene. As he brushes his teeth, Mike once considers shaving. Maybe, if he accidentally-on-purpose cuts open his carotid and bleeds all over the floor, Harvey won't murder the fuck out of his face. Mostly because the fuck will already be murdered out of him. And his face. Shaking his head, Mike spits a mouthful of foam into the sink. The scruff stays.
Mike cracks the bathroom door open, one hand holding tight to the towel around his waist. Harvey, who is leaning against the kitchen counter with a mug of coffee in his hand, is in Mike's direct line of sight. He glances up at the exact wrong moment and smiles. “Don't let me stop you,” he laughs as Mike tries to hide behind the door. “I can chat now, or after you've dressed.” Mike takes a deep, angry breath before trudging to his bedroom, resolutely not looking at Harvey with his stupid shark grin and his stupid hair and his stupid everything.
Finally – FINALLY – Mike is dressed in a pair of worn jeans with fraying hems and a simple black t-shirt with a stretched-out collar. He doesn't have shoes on and he feels more naked in bare feet than he did in his towel. Harvey raises an eyebrow at the casual dress as Mike shuffles into the kitchen.
“What?” Mike grouses, reaching (unfortunately) around Harvey to retrieve a mug of his own. “It's Saturday.”
“You are aware that we are having lunch with a client today.” Harvey informs him, taking a pointed sip of coffee, as if to say 'I made this coffee and therefore you should suck my dick' and then Mike remembers mentioning a desire to suck Harvey's dick.
“I'll change before leaving,” he says through clenched teeth. “Harvey, what do you want?”
“Hm,” Harvey laughs into his coffee and Mike considers hiding under his bed at the mocking tone. “I seem to recall asking you the very same thing last night. And you,” he raises his eyebrows pointedly. “You had some very interesting answers for me.”
Mike turns away, clenching his hands around his empty mug. “Harvey, don't,” he whines, face flushing. There's a soft clinking sound, as Harvey sets down his coffee. Surprisingly careful fingers untangle Mike's hands from around his cup, which quickly joins Harvey's on the counter. “Come on,” he whispers, still refusing to look anywhere but at the wall. “Please don't do this.”
A shuddering breath ripples through him as Harvey gently curls one finger under Mike's chin. “Look at me?” He asks softly, ducking his head to meet Mike's averted gaze. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Mike raises his eyes to grant Harvey's request. “There you are,” Harvey smiles – a real smile without a trace of suborder Selachimorpha – and shifts from just one finger under Mike's chin to an entire hand cupping the side of his face. Mike leans into the caress, as Harvey continues murmuring in that same, quiet voice. “You were so talkative last night,” he muses out loud, “you had so many fascinating ideas.”
“Please,” Mike whines, turning to bury his face in Harvey's shoulder. With a smile, Harvey shifts his grip to cradle the back of Mike's head, scratching through his short hair. He loops his other arm loosely around Mike's waist.
“I really liked the one about tying you up with my neckties,” he comments, glancing down to gauge Mike's reaction. He isn't disappointed to see his face flush with color as he clenches his eyes shut in embarrassment. “It got me thinking. Maybe you could tie me up with your neckties,” Harvey ponders, amused to feel Mike stiffen in shock. “Would you like that?” He asks, leaning back to give Mike space to reply. “You could tie me up and take your time with me. Ride me for hours and hours, going as slow as you please.”
Harvey had meant to maintain composure, but the thought of Mike on top of him, gloriously tight, all milky skin flushed with blissed out desire, head tossed back as he rolls his hips with every thrust. He closes his eyes for just a moment, and takes a deep breath. He opens them to find Mike staring at him, pupils blown black and his face pink. “I...”
“Speak up, babe.” Harvey teases him.
“I would like that,” Mike says finally, shaking his head to clear the hazy fog clouding his brain. “Um. A lot. Maybe. Probably. But, I said a lot of things last night. About the- the neckties And. Uh, I may have mentioned wanting to suck your dick?” He says it like a question, and Harvey grins.
“You also mentioned wanting me to suck your dick,” he points out and Mike groans in humiliation. “Which I'm definitely open to, by the way.”
“Of course you are,” Mike snarks, once again hiding his face in Harvey's shoulder. Harvey laughs, not unkindly, and resumes running his fingers through Mike's hair. “It's just,” Mike continues to mumble, “when I woke up, I could barely remember what I said last night. And now you're here. And you want me.” His voice cracks in desperation, and Harvey's face softens. “Which is really, really great. Because I want you. Fuck, I've wanted you for a long time.”
“How long?” Harvey asks casually.
“Since the interview?” He's hesitant. “I remember thinking, even if I don't get this job, maybe I can at least get a quick fuck out of it.” That laugh that follows is bitter and it makes Harvey still in his calming caresses. “But, fuck. Now. Things have changed. Now I want you for real. For longer than just the hours that we spend rolling around in one of our beds.”
“Just our beds?” Harvey asks in an attempt to distract Mike. “Because I have some excellent ideas involving my desk.”
“Your office has glass walls,” Mike reminds him with furrowed eyebrows.
“I know,” Harvey says with a devilish smile, immensely enjoying the sudden flare of red across the bridge of Mike's nose. “But, in all seriousness, you know me. I don't do monogamy well.” He tightens his hold on Mike to keep him from bolting. “I said I don't do it well, not that I'm unwilling to try.”
“So, you're willing to try?” Mike says carefully in a wounded voice. “That's it?” He pushes against Harvey's chest to escape, and Harvey lets him. “After. After humiliating myself on the phone last night, I'm supposed to be content with knowing that you're going to try to be faithful to me?” Mike stalks out of the kitchen and starts pacing. “Harvey, you know I'm pretty fucked up. Last night was evidence enough of that. I need – ”
“Someone to take care of you.” And Harvey is right behind him when did Harvey get there he's so goddamn quiet. Mike opens his mouth to complain, protest, babble unintelligibly some more, but when he does, Harvey is sort of in the way. Harvey brushes his lips over Mike's, gently, carefully, barely there, and he whispers, “I want to take care of you,” into Mike's mouth and yeah. That's something Mike can handle.
“That's something I can handle,” Mike murmurs, breathing in the same air as Harvey, and he feels a little light headed. Harvey smiles, a slight upward quirk on the left side of his lips and he dips his head to press his mouth against Mike's. It's wet and Mike tastes like mint and Harvey tastes like coffee and after a few seconds they both taste like each other.
Harvey drags both of his hands up Mike's body to cradle his head. His fingers card through his short, damp hair as he licks his way into his mouth. Mike cuddles close, as close as he can, fisting one hand in the fabric of Harvey's suit jacket and curling the other around his shoulder. They separate for air and Mike breathes heavily around his smile. He relaxes his hold to wrap both arms loosely around Harvey's waist.
“You okay?” Harvey asks, licking his swollen lips, and Mike nods wordlessly. “Excellent,” he purrs, sliding his hands down to grip Mike's shoulders. He walks them backwards, until Mike bumps gently into the wall. “Still okay?” Mike nods again and bites down on his lower lip, looking up at Harvey through his eyelashes. “Still excellent then,” Harvey murmurs and winds his fingers through the belt loops of Mike's faded jeans. He yanks Mike's hips up against his and slants their mouths together.
Whining into the kiss, Mike winds his arms around Harvey's neck. He can't help but tangle his fingers in his thick hair, easily mussing up the slicked back glamor. Mike whimpers as Harvey slides a thigh between his legs and cups his hands around his ass. “Oh fuck,” Harvey groans into his mouth, “make that sound again.” Mike does, keening and whimpering, as he grinds against Harvey. “Yeah, just like that,” Harvey pants, pulling back enough to breathe. “Not moving too fast, am I?”
“No,” Mike murmurs, standing up on the tips of his bare toes to press a kiss to Harvey's cheek. “This is basically perfect.” He lets his head fall back and blinks to clear away some of the haze from his eyes. “Are you okay with this?” Mike asks awkwardly, reaching up hesitantly to brush back a piece of hair from Harvey's forehead.
“Yes,” Harvey smiles, and lowers his head to nuzzle at the column of Mike's throat. “I'm very much okay with this.” He inhales deep the clean, fresh scent of Mike's skin, wishing fervently that he could wrap himself up in the smell. “You're delicious,” he observes, licking a quick stripe of his neck to behind his ear. Mike chokes, clutching at Harvey's shoulders to steady himself.
“Don't say shit like that,” he stammers, breathing heavily through his mouth. “It's...” He trails off into a moan as Harvey finds a particularly inspiring spot under his jaw and threads his fingers through Harvey's hair.
“If you say inappropriate,” Harvey growls and lets the threat hang in silence, opting instead to lave a path of open mouthed kisses down Mike's neck. He hums appreciatively at the broken sighs and purrs he's drawing out and deliberately scrapes his teeth on Mike's collarbone. That, now, causes a particularly fascinating reaction. Mike sucks in a choked breath and jerks his hips up against Harvey's, desperately trying to drag him closer.
With a hiss, Harvey pulls back. He swoops in to drop one last kiss on Mike's slightly parted lips, before smiling shakily. “If we don't stop,” he pauses, a little thrown by how hoarse he sounds. “If we don't stop,” he tries again, “then I don't think we'll make it to the lunch meeting. Or out of your apartment at all today.” Tilting his head to the left, he takes in Mike – with his shirt collar stretched to one side, revealing a mess of bite marks around his clavicle; with his hooded, glassy eyes; with his flushed, open mouth and plump, lower lip. “Fuck, but you are a temptation,” Harvey chuckles, leaning forward to rest his head on Mike's shoulder.
Mike reaches up with a shaking hand to clasp at the back of Harvey's neck. “That's okay,” he rasps, and Harvey can feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest. “You're pretty tempting too.” Harvey laughs and wraps his arms around Mike's waist, making it a proper hug.
“Well, I think we proved at least one thing today,” he comments idly. Mike makes a questioning humming sound in the back of his throat. “Your dreams are right – we certainly are sexy together.”