Work Text:
They kissed. Nine days ago. They haven’t said a word about it since.
There was a sharp, electric fizz of attraction when they first met that neither realized was entirely mutual. They each noted and shelved it, albeit for different reasons, prepared to never need or get to act on it. But the more time they spend around one another, the thicker the air between them grows because now it’s no longer just that anonymous initial jolt of ‘I like what I see’ - it’s become more, and something else entirely. For Harvey, it’s about power, as all things inevitably are. He likes that Mike is both terrified of him and yet also prepared to take chances to impress him - will risk his wrath to get his approval, and that says a lot about Mike and how far he’s willing to go to please Harvey. The truth is, Mike would do almost anything to see Harvey look at him like he’s done something right. He’d do a lot of things just to get Harvey to look at him at all. And so by the push and pull of their working relationship, vaguely registered want becomes hard crushed need until eventually something has to give.
Drinks with a client and Harvey had Mike tag along because he hadn’t messed anything up beyond repair that week, had shown initiative and even on occasion made Harvey’s day easier. They had one drink each, to be social like the client wants, but switched to tonic then to be level headed like the client needs. It was a relatively open and shut case for a firm that’s had Harvey on retainer for several years now and drinks should have wrapped up after an hour or so, and yet. The CFO they’d met with seemed taken with Mike in ways that he’d never been for Harvey and Harvey would have been nothing but relieved about that were it not for the fact that the CFO in question didn’t seem to realize or respect the clear and evident fact that Mike is his protege, unfortunately nothing more and certainly nothing less.
After a further two hours of watching the guy get more and more brazen with both his attention and his hands, Harvey had been ready to hit something. He never loses his temper, but that’s because he’s a smart and astute capable attorney who knows where to tread and when to wait it out. Mike had been slow to catch on to what was going on, but he’d grown visibly restless and uncomfortable over the course of the night, and when he’d finally needed to subtly shift away from the CFO’s hand on his thigh and back into Harvey’s space instead, Harvey did the first reckless thing he’d done in a long, long time and cut short a meeting when he couldn’t be confident there wouldn’t be repercussions for his doing so. Pointedly ignoring the way the sleazy CFO had quirked his eyebrow at how Harvey herded Mike out of the booth with a hand on his waist to keep him behind him and as far from the guy as was socially polite, Harvey made their excuses and tried not to think about the weight of this reaction and how it was manifesting. The way their creep of a client had nodded slightly, a seeming admittance of defeat, felt too much like victory draped sleek across Harvey’s shoulders.
He hadn’t been able to say a word as they left and waited for their driver to pull around, his jaw set and his hands clenched as fists but hidden in his pockets lest he have to try and explain this to Mike. Mike for the most part seemed relieved to be free of the situation, breathing a huge sigh like he’d been holding his breath all night.
They’d climbed into the town car in relative silence and Harvey did his very best to keep up with the theme of the night and ignore any reaction he might otherwise have had to Mike sitting so much closer than usual, recklessly almost letting their hands brush together across the leather seat.
And then Mike had tested his resolve simply by speaking.
“Thank you,” he’d said.
But it was so sincere, so full of genuine gratitude that Harvey’s grip slipped, just a little.
“What? He wasn’t your type?” Harvey had been sure to keep his gaze trained out onto the street and his voice level, even though he was breaking one of his own cardinal rules and inferred an admission that he could and should have had Mike work for.
Mike had simply said ‘No’, but frowned as he did, the crease between his eyebrows betraying what Harvey took to be indignation at his suggestion that Mike might be gay.
And then.
“He was cute, but I’m already kind of interested in someone else, I guess.”
Mike wasn’t joking, and Harvey was surprised for the first time in years.
“Oh really? Man or woman?”
“A guy.”
“How long have you been attracted to ‘guys’,”Harvey had rolled his eyes like it might distract Mike from how his knees shifted, a sudden discomfort setting his bones at odds, breaking another rule then by pressing the subject.
“College experimentation kind of stuck, I guess.”
“And who might you currently be interested in? And when, for that matter, do you have time to date?”
Mike had shifted, brought his elbows up to rest on his knees and dropped his head to rub a hand at the back of his neck.
“I don’t. I’m at the office eighteen hours a day, Harvey.”
“Oh god, please don’t tell me you have a crush on Louis, I haven’t had enough to drink." A bite of bored disdain, and yet Harvey’s jaw was set again, the inside of his cheek caught between his teeth almost to draw blood.
Mike had visibly closed in on himself, turned his hunched body away from Harvey without moving further away across the seat.
“Work place relationships are against company policy. Particularly between a partner and an associate.”
“So you do have a crush on Louis?”
“Don’t be gross, Harvey.”
Mike was blushing then, and Harvey had done what Harvey does best.
He turned to face Mike, and wrapped a hand around his wrist to pull Mike’s hand from his face. Mike couldn’t meet his eye, tried to twist away from Harvey’s grasp, but Harvey had held on, pushed Mike’s wrist to the back of the seat between them and kept it there until Mike looked at him, finally, and when he did …
It was written clearly on Mike’s face - in the embarrassment high across his cheekbones and the trembling set of his mouth. It was Harvey that Mike was interested in, and he was bracing himself for at best - an uncomfortable discussion, at worst - being fired.
That same victory from earlier in the night had turned liquid then, and slid to pool in Harvey’s stomach like warm gold. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead yet to forbid himself from doing this, never considering that Mike might be interested in his advances, and yet even had he had time to swear otherwise - he knew he’d still do the same thing in this moment any time he found himself in it.
Still squeezing Mike’s wrist in his other hand, he’d cupped Mike’s jaw in his palm, slid his thumb along the bone and underneath to tilt Mike’s head up to face him. He saw it dawn in Mike’s eyes, watched fear crest over into tentative heat and Harvey’s teeth had set again, surveying Mike like prey already won. He took his time, let Mike feel the weight of his gaze as it fell across his face until he’d watched in amusement as Mike swallowed. Harvey had smiled then, licked his lower lip just slow enough for Mike’s eyes to obviously follow the flash of his tongue, and he’d almost wanted the moment to go on forever, loved the thrill of the not-yet, nearly, now.
But then it was now, and Mike was leaning in and Harvey was pulling him forward and pressing their lips together. Twice, three times Harvey had pushed hard but chaste kisses to Mike’s mouth, testing them both with simple brushes of lips and then Mike was breathing out through his nose too loud, breaking the tension and shattering Harvey’s resolve. His hand had sought Mike’s hip just as Mike rose up from the seat, moving to half-straddle Harvey back against the leather and open his mouth under Harvey’s. Mike’s wrist was still clenched tight in Harvey’s hand when their tongues met and Mike went almost boneless against him as Harvey pulled him down into his lap. Harvey’s other hand went to Mike’s throat, his fingers felt the groan when Harvey set his teeth and flicked his tongue across Mike’s slick bottom lip. And Mike had buried his hand to mess the hair at the back of Harvey’s neck, licked in behind Harvey’s teeth to curl his tongue against Harvey’s and driven his hips down to let his weight fall across Harvey’s thighs. Mike was a warm pliant mass of over-eager tension in Harvey’s lap and Harvey wanted to take him in his hands and set him right, was moving to do just that when the car pulled to a stop.
They were at Mike’s apartment.
Mike had sprang away from him, back to the far side of the car where he’d coughed and smoothed his shirt and run a hand through his hair. Harvey hadn’t moved an inch, had been nothing but blatant about how he was watching Mike, looking at him then like something he’d won. But Mike had refused to meet his gaze once more, said “Uh .. see you in the morning” stiffly and gotten out of the car without looking back.
Harvey had been lost. Mike had broken open like he’d been relieved to do so, like he’d been waiting for Harvey all along - he’d more or less said as much himself. And yet he’d snapped shut again, just then, and stayed wound and tense ever since.
But Harvey hadn’t gotten to where he was in the world by being oblivious, and he sees all the things Mike’s trying to keep hidden. The way he reaches for anything to occupy his hands when Harvey pauses at his cubicle, and can’t help how his eyes drop to Harvey’s mouth when he can’t avoid their conversation. Mike hovers closer than before, almost underfoot in his avoidance of what happened. He nervously caps and uncaps the highlighters he always has to hand, shuffles paper like the crisp clip of the sheets will filter the thick air between them. Harvey watches Mike knock over cups and trip over his own feet, fumble books and stutter through sentences.
It’s kind of adorable. But it’s gone on long enough. Harvey’s just about ready to make Mike sing.
______________________________________________________________________
Harvey has kept Mike on his toes since the moment they met, but the static between them has been slowly changing ever since. At first it was the strict rigid pressure of no second chances for either of them, although Harvey never had and never will acknowledge his half of the ultimatum and everything he’s put on the line for Mike. Then they’d fallen into an easier undercurrent of give and take, always a one way system that suited both of them just fine. And since that night in the town car it’s pulled tight like strings to snap. Mike is a constant wired heat at Harvey’s side. If possible, he’s wound even tighter than before, a nervous thrumming presence that doesn’t pause except to fall apart - fall still - completely.
On Wednesday, that moment of abject fluster built up to spill over in overwhelmed falter comes late in the afternoon of a day when Mike has been Harvey’s constant and unabashed shadow. Rachel addresses them both whenever one appears in the door to her office these days, although thankfully no-one else has picked up on their sudden co-dependence. Harvey would be irritated and unmerciful in chastising the behavior were it not for the fact that he’s enjoying himself far, far too much to put an end to it or give Mike the satisfaction of any clear reaction at all. So he keeps it going, maintains plausible deniability at all times and drives Mike slowly insane.
They’re in Harvey’s office - where Mike is by his side at the desk to guide Harvey through some legislation he thinks might prove useful for a current case. Harvey is seated while Mike stands - pressed close into the thin arm of the chair separating them so Harvey can see where the leather digs in against Mike’s thigh. That’s got to be painful, but Mike goes on - leaning across Harvey to point out something on the page that Harvey’s sure is really very interesting indeed, but it just can’t hold his focus right now. He wonders if Mike even realizes that he’s stretching across Harvey so that they’re pressed together from shoulder to elbow.
Harvey leans forward in his seat, so slightly that Mike doesn’t notice, doesn’t pause in what he’s saying, but when he pauses and turns to check that Harvey’s keeping up with him - he finds himself with not an inch of space between his and Harvey’s faces, Harvey’s gaze locked firmly on his and not paying attention to what he’s been saying whatsoever, it seems.
Mike gasps. He tries to recover, coughs to hide the sound, but Harvey caught it, Harvey catches everything. He wants to catch Mike’s mouth with his - wants to lean forward that little bit more and lick the look of surprise right off Mike’s lips. But he stays completely still, just looks, and the way Mike goes to pieces is almost as rewarding.
A shuddery breath and Mike is taking a step back, tripping over nothing at all in his haste. He gathers the pages from the safety of the far side of Harvey’s desk with shaking hands and no eye contact whatsoever. In fact, he doesn’t look at Harvey at all, even as he stammers excuses and turns to leave.
But wait for it, wait for it. And he turns, as Harvey knew he would, risks a glance like he can’t help himself. And Harvey takes the opportunity to sit back in his chair, drag his eyes up the length of Mike’s body and let his gaze settle on Mike’s face with no hint of what he’s thinking about right now concealed in the slightest.
Mike sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and seems to hold his breath, fingers white knuckled on the door handle.
Harvey very slowly, very deliberately drags his thumb across his mouth, lets his tongue flick out across the pad, and Mike flees. Closing the door on his own hand as he goes.
_____________________________________________________________________________
By Thursday, Harvey’s starting to lose patience with his protege. Mike’s beginning to make mistakes in their cases, tiny little human errors that anyone else would be constantly guilty of and Harvey could overlook in any other instance, but Mike is better than this - he’s beyond error, and Harvey is more than a little irritated that he’s letting this thing between them become a well evidenced distraction.
So when he finds himself alone in an elevator with Mike, who drops his cell phone and jerks to send his coffee splattering across both their shoes when their hands brush between them, Harvey loses it a little bit.
He punches the emergency stop button and leans back against the doors with his hands in his pockets. He sighs.
“Out with it, Mike.”
“Out with … what?” Mike is addressing Harvey’s lapels.
“This skittish puppy act - is there a reason for it?”
The colour drains from Mike’s face as Harvey watches, but instead of stepping back or shying away Mike actually seems to be leaning further toward Harvey, even as he ducks his head and scrubs a shaking hand through his hair.
“I .. I don’t know what you mean?” and Harvey has to roll his eyes at how Mike presents it as a question, like he can’t even believe himself that he’s pretending he doesn’t know what Harvey means.
Still leaning back against the cool metal doors of the elevator, Harvey shoots a hand out to wrap around Mike’s bicep and pull him in, tug him right up close. Mike goes with it, doesn’t fight it for a second but steadies himself with a hand on the door beside Harvey’s head. It’s a pleasing position to be in, Harvey finds.
“So let me ask you this then -” and they’re close enough now that no-one can mistake the intent of the exchange.
“Would you know what I mean if I said I wanted to kiss you again? Or is your eidetic memory impressively selective too?”
Mike watches Harvey’s mouth as he speaks, but looks up for eye contact when Harvey doesn’t move in.
“I … you do?” Mike looks so young, then - confusion leaving his features wide open for Harvey to read.
“Would you like me to submit my request in writing?” Harvey is actually stalling now, trying to find a second to make this make sense, because unless he’s mistaken (and that would be a first) Mike is honestly perplexed by this change in status and the reason for that seems to be grounded in the idea that Mike doesn’t believe or understand Harvey’s interest in him. Which …. is understandable, it really is. Harvey is a notorious womanizer, and here he is asking his clearly male associate for permission to kiss him. Again. What Mike and so many others seem to overlook is the fact that everything about Harvey comes down to one clear and simple truth - he gets what he wants. Whatever and whenever that is.
“You don’t have to ask, Harvey” and that’s a very telling answer, Harvey thinks. Mike looks a little wrecked by it, by this, frayed around the edges but unwavering in his answer and their eye contact right now. It’s like he’s reached breaking point, is resigned to the fact that this is something that he doesn’t understand, can’t quite trust yet, but something that he wants enough to make him shake.
Harvey will later claim he has no knowledge of the incident or any inclination as to what his motivation might have been at the time, but he pulls Mike to him then, rests their foreheads together and just … holds him close, for a second. It’s a reassurance maybe. But just a little bit of a tease too.
“Good to know” he murmurs against Mike’s mouth, and gently pushes him away, reaching behind himself to push the stop button again.
Once the doors open on the ground floor they’re both blinking into the sunlight and startled back into loud, harsh reality. Mike seems a little more together, now, but still wound tight. And now that Harvey knows the root of the problem, he has a much firmer grasp of the reins.
_______________________________________________
The next day Harvey sets about showing Mike that he really, truly is interested in him. It’s a level of effort that he would never normally find it necessary to visit, but in this case it seems like Mike is going to work himself up into an early heart attack before they ever get around to getting it together, so in the interest of preventing that Harvey is willing to make this sacrifice. He can on occasion make an effort. When his sexual gratification is at stake.
Of course, Harvey doesn’t intend to begin things in ways and by means that they won’t realistically continue. So his quiet reassurances take an instantly subtle but thoroughly maddening tone from the get go.
Now that he knows for sure that Mike really is interested, he doesn’t have to hide the fact that every time they’re in a room together Harvey is thinking about the weight of Mike’s body balanced across his lap, how his hands clenched and unclenched in the fabric of Harvey’s shirt like he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to touch or not, the way Mike’s mouth had opened under his like sweet, pliant relief.
In fact, Harvey lets his intentions go beyond mere thoughts.
They’re working late on Friday night, which is basically written in into Mike’s contract but is more than a rarity for Harvey. But by midnight he isn’t thinking about how he’s usually en route to his apartment with this week’s entertainment, a one time distraction to be forgotten the next morning, because he’s forgone this practice lately when the form arched and begging across his sheets always takes the form that’s currently sitting beside him and had been doing so for weeks before he knew it was something he was going to get to experience as reality. Unfortunately for him (but very fortunately indeed for Harvey) this doesn’t seem to be a concession that Mike has picked up on.
“I think I can take it from here if you want to bail, I know you don’t spend Friday nights in your office like - ever”.
Sometimes it takes Harvey a painful second to process Mike’s teenage girl lingo and actually get beyond it to the point where he remembers that he’s interested in this kid. But tonight Mike helps by consistently keeping up with Harvey as they dig through case law for relevant precedence, and in one particularly impressive showing - actually picking up on an interpretation that Harvey himself had overlooked. Kid or no, Mike can be brilliant and Harvey is so gone on every version of it that he finds, whether it’s here in the office or on the backseat of his town car.
“And how do you assume I generally spend my Friday nights, Mike?” Harvey relaxes into the couch, spreading his arms across the arm to his right and up over the back of the couch behind Mike, sitting snug into his left side even though there’s an expanse of space across the seat.
“You make no secret of your habits, Harvey. On Fridays you ‘work off’ the stress of the week gone by, so you can spend the rest of the weekend preparing for the week ahead. The way you stick to routines and habits is kind of weird, actually. I read a study once that said such reluctance to break with tradition is indicative of a sexually dominant personality type."
“Oh really? Is that so? You think I spend my spare time sexually dominating strangers? Is that an accurate summation?”
“Not in a whips ‘n’ chains kind of way, because you’re Harvey Spector and can do that kind of damage with just a look, but otherwise - yes. More or less.”
Harvey is both flattered and mildly impressed.
“Last Friday night we were wining and dining a client, unless your much lauded memory suddenly fails you. And the week before I distinctly remember calling you at 1am to check your progress on the Weston case. What conclusion can you infer from this, genius?”
Mike shifts in place, neither closer to nor further from Harvey but still clearly uncomfortable.
“I … assumed you’d switched your schedule around? Does this mean …. you didn’t? You ….. haven’t?”
“Haven’t switched my schedule? No. Haven’t slept with anyone else? …... No. Don’t misunderstand the gesture - I’m not suddenly an advocate of monogamy. But I’m single minded about the things I want, when they necessitate or require the level of attention.”
This answer has a visible effect on Mike, who snuggles closer into Harvey’s space, their thighs pressed together and Mike’s shoulder edging in under Harvey’s arm like he’s subconsciously orchestrating an accidental hug. Harvey notes ‘subconsciously’ because Mike still isn’t looking at him and is tense along his side, nervous energy only minutely released in the relieved slump of Mike’s shoulders and the sigh he can’t keep in. Mike is getting better at accepting that Harvey seems to honestly be interested in him in this capacity and all others, but he’s still uncertain - it’s like he’s just trying on the idea of mutual attraction but doesn’t yet trust that he might get to keep it. The prospect that he might get exactly what he wants for once feels a little like a trap. Harvey Spector, his powerful, capable, terrifying and gorgeous boss wanting Mike is .. something he’s spent a lot of time thinking about - absolutely. But fantasy doesn’t often become reality for him and he’s still waiting for Harvey to tell him this whole thing has been once huge, cripplingly embarrassing joke.
Luckily, Harvey has no qualms about reassuring Mike that he’s serious when doing so will doubtlessly prove so enjoyable for him too.
“Is this what you want, Mike?”
Harvey cups a hand around the back of Mike’s neck and tilts his head to face him. He watches Mike’s adam’s apple work in his throat as he swallows.
“Yes. You know it is.”
A blush blossoms across Mike’s cheekbones but his gaze is steady. His want is so blatant, so wholly clear, he isn’t doing a thing to hide how into this he is and Harvey wants to push him down onto the couch and show him exactly what it is that Harvey wants. But that’s not what this about. Not this time.
Harvey extracts himself from Mike and rises to his feet, stands before Mike as he slides his suit jacket down his arms and folds it over the arm of the couch. Mike scoots forward, doesn’t get up but reaches out when Harvey starts to undo his cufflinks. Harvey cups a hand behind Mike’s skull and the kid nuzzles into the touch, presses a kiss to his palm while Harvey rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. He pauses then, leans forward resting his weight with hands on Mike’s thighs. Mike strains up to meet him and Harvey indulges him, finally finally pushes his mouth to Mike’s for only the second time in two weeks. Mike groans and opens his mouth under Harvey’s, tries to pull him down to deepen the kiss but Harvey stays standing and licks across Mike’s lower lip, coaxes Mike’s tongue to tangle with his own. The kiss is slow but so fraught, every flick of tongue heavy with intent. Mike’s teeth catch in Harvey’s lip and the sharp sting of need is perfect, sweet. Harvey could do this for hours, not touching Mike anywhere besides his clever, desperate mouth.
But he has a plan.
He pulls away, can barely stand it when Mike blindly tries to follow.
“Hey, hey look at me.” His words are quiet, soft between them.
Mike opens his eyes and they’re so blue this close, blown wide. He looks at Harvey like he’s all he ever needs to see.
“Mike, I want you to do something for me, can you do that?”
Mike nods, quick and eager, his hands still curled in Harvey’s shirt, fingers fluttering restless against his throat.
“Good boy. I want you … Mike I want you to tell me what you want.”
Harvey parts Mike’s thighs and kneels between his feet, hands still at Mike’s knees.
“I want you to tell me exactly what you want and I’m going to do whatever it is, Mike. Anything. Because you want me to, and because I want to.”
“Harvey, no .. I .. I can’t -”
“You can Mike, and you will” Harvey long ago mastered the art of being as insistent as people want him to be. If Mike wants to disagree, he can, he’s free to walk away whenever he wants. But Harvey’s almost certain (and thus completely correct in thinking) that what Mike needs now is his insistence that Mike take what he needs.
Harvey, still kneeling between Mike’s legs, lets his elbows rest on Mike’s thighs and slides his hands back and under, spreads his fingers and palms Mike’s ass. But he’s holding back, trying a pliancy that he hopes will drive Mike to take.
“We don’t have to do anything, you can just tell me. Or you can tell me to leave. No pressure, Mike. Just whatever you want.”
And because Harvey feels he’s already afforded this situation far more patience than should ever be necessary, he begins to move back and rise to his feet, knowing that ..
“No, don’t. Harvey - don’t leave. Just … stay, stay here.” and Mike’s words are pleading, but hard, and he has Harvey’s tie wrapped around his fist, pulls it tight to drag Harvey back down to him.
“I want you to take this off.” Mike says, tugging on the tie now.
Harvey settles back on his knees and gently pries Mike’s fingers from his tie, slips his own inside the windsor knot at his throat and works it loose, pulls it free of his collar and folds it over his jacket. He starts to unbutton his shirt, but Mike stops him by speaking.
“No, I want to,” he says and he’s sitting forward, knocking Harvey’s hands away and parting the shirt himself. His hands are trembling and they haven’t broken eye contact, can’t look away from one another. But Mike’s gaze drops once the shirt is unbuttoned to the centre of Harvey’s chest. He’s sliding his hands inside, mouth hanging open as his fingers skate across Harvey’s collarbones like he can’t believe that what’s under his hands - under Harvey’s shirt - is real, that he gets to touch.
But then his hands are sliding up, thumbs dragging along the tendons in Harvey’s throat, pressing into his pulse point.
“I want to kiss you.”
If you’d asked Harvey a week ago, hell - an hour ago, he’d have described this as a tiresome exercise. A measure simply necessary to get Mike where he wanted, to let him know that he was wanted. But here on his knees in his own office, at the mercy of this kid’s hands, Harvey is losing his grip on control. He wants, and he’s starting to realize that that isn’t just about taking.
He strains forward, fists his hands in the back of Mike’s shirt and kisses him breathless, neither of them really controlling the kiss, lost in clutching each other closer, harder. Harvey twists his tongue just right, gets a little careless with his teeth and Mike moans into his mouth, Harvey tastes the sound, feels it vibrate through the chest caged in his hands. He has to pull away to breathe, to nose along Mike’s jaw, stubble warming his cheek.
“What, Mike, what. You’ve got to decide. Tell me.”
Mike’s hands are twisting back into his hair again, tilting Harvey’s head back so he can suck at Harvey’s lower lip.
“Your mouth, Harvey. This mouth. I .. I want you to suck my cock.”
And Harvey wants to, has wanted to for some time now, but hearing Mike saying it - asking for it is like fire in his veins, desire pooling hot and liquid in his fingers, at the base of his spine.
“Yes” he manages, trying to control his speech like his hands aren’t already scrabbling to unbuckle Mike’s belt, not bothering to take it off, unzipping Mike’s fly.
“Up, lift your hips for me” so he can pull Mike to sit right at the edge of the couch, drag his pants down his thighs and bury his face in Mike’s crotch. He’s wearing cheap cotton boxer briefs, grey fabric stained black with pre-come and Harvey’s mouth is watering already.
Mike still has his hands in Harvey’s hair, cradling his head in his lap and they’re both perfectly still for a second, comfortable in the heat of this.
“I think about this all the time, you know” Mike says, shattering the silence. He’s settled now, words steady and clear, but his voice is breathless and rough in ways that are wrecking Harvey.
“Tell me exactly what you want, Mike, remember?” Harvey is speaking to his stomach, pushing Mike’s shirt up and dragging his mouth along Mike’s hipbones, tugging on the waistband of his boxers with his teeth.
“Pull my boxers down.”
Harvey does, leaves them halfway down Mike’s thighs with his slacks because there’s something so indecent about them doing this with nothing but their jackets off.
Mike’s cock is thick, curved hard and wet around the head and Harvey’s stomach clenches with want and he’s desperate for this, desperate for Mike.
“Give me your right hand,” and Harvey does, watches with a clenched jaw while Mike licks his palm and leaves his fingers dripping. Mike guides the hand to wrap around the base of his cock, his own hand overlapping to keep the grip snug and tight and he jacks himself with both of their hands, spreads the spit he licked across Harvey’s hand.
“Now use your mouth, Harvey. Lick the head first,” and Harvey does, leans in and finally curls his tongue, cheats a little and sucks on the head without being told, licking into the slit and drawing out the pre-come wet against his lips.
“Fuck .. yeah, like that,” Mike breathes, shifting to curl his hands at the base of Harvey’s throat, thumbs dragging up under his chin to tilt his head up, so Mike can see how Harvey looks like this.
“You’re so hot, on your knees for me,” and Harvey knows what he looks like, knows what he must look like right now, but it still makes his hands shake, curve tighter around Mike’s dick and the curve of his hipbone.
“Do you want me to -” he starts, but Mike’s hips shifting, straining upward off the couch make it clear. He still wants to hear Mike say it.
“Yeah, yes. Do it, Harvey, please,” and that one word sets thing a little steadier, helps Harvey remember how he wants this.
He looks at Mike for just a second longer, licks his lips before he breaks eye contact and lowers his head, sinks his mouth down over Mike’s cock as he drags his hand up the shaft to meet his lips. He stops thinking and all he knows is the slick weight of Mike against his tongue.
Mike’s hands knot in his hair, just not quite to the point of pain and Harvey doesn’t care a bit, speeds up to suck in time with when Mike’s fingers clench and his hips strain against the hold of Harvey’s palm keeping him pushed down into the couch.
“I want to fuck your mouth, can I?” Mike asks, sentence breaking on a gasp and Harvey can’t stop himself, he groans around his mouthful when he looks up to see Mike - shoulders heaving with every breath, mouth falling open and flushed on bitten off whimpers, eyes blown wide and his eyebrows furrowed like he’s in the best kind of pain.
“Please,” he says again and Harvey doesn’t answer, can’t make himself pull off long enough to. He grips Mike’s hips, fingers hard enough to bruise and opens his mouth around Mike’s cock, pulls his hips up as he sinks lower. Mike’s hands are gentle now, cradling Harvey’s jaw, but he feels how Mike’s entire body strains tense when the head of his cock pushes against the back of Harvey’s throat and Harvey carefully, slowly, flattens his tongue against Mike’s shaft and swallows.
“Can I .. I .. fuck - oh god yes. I want to come in your mouth,” Mike bites out, hands cradling Harvey’s head, holding him down and still so Mike’s hips can push up, push his cock into Harvey’s mouth and Harvey pulls back, squeezes Mike’s side in what he hopes is an adequate answer before sucking softly around the head and then sinking all the way back down as far as he can and working his throat, twisting the flat of his tongue against the underside of Mike’s cock as he swallows around it, once - twice, and Mike is coming, hips snapping up and keeping his cock deep as he comes in Harvey’s mouth.
Slowly, carefully Harvey lowers Mike’s hips to the couch, gently pulling off and starting to sit back but Mike leans forward, catches his breath by kissing Harvey till they’re both gasping again.
“Thank you,” he says, voice soft with gratitude again but there’s an underlying edge of confidence that is exactly what Harvey has been waiting to hear.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Harvey laughs, dark and breathless, voice wrecked. He shoves Mike’s pants and boxers back up his thighs and moves to stand, covers easily for how his knees are a little weak - lust, not old age.
“Get your stuff together, you’re staying at the apartment tonight. It’s business as usual now - which means my rules, my way. Are you ready to hear what I want?”
And if the way Mike presses up against him as they leave, crowds him against the wall of the elevator to grope him and can’t stop looking at his mouth the entire ride home is anything to go by - Mike’s mouth almost as flushed as Harvey’s from how he can’t stop biting at his lower lip every time he looks at him - then Mike is testing ahead of the curve, giving Harvey what he wants before he even asks for it.
They stop by Mike’s place first so he can get a few things and Mike pauses before he gets out of the car, is not at all coy about the fact that his hand is working its way up Harvey’s thigh as he speaks.
“I just need to grab a toothbrush, something to sleep in, I’ll be right back,” he grins as he starts to climb out, but Harvey’s hand on his wrist pulls him back, yanks him almost into Harvey’s lap.
“Ah-ah, no you don’t. You’ll fetch whatever you’ll need for the rest of the weekend. And forget about the pyjamas, you know you won’t need them so stop being so obvious, it’s embarrassing.”
Mike laughs, bright and happy and leans in to kiss Harvey. Harvey indulges him for a second, licks into his mouth with a dirty little twist to his tongue and then pulls away, nipping Mike’s lip as he does.
“Run along now, we’ve got a schedule to keep,” Harvey can’t keep the smile out of his voice and Mike kisses him again before he steps out. He pauses at the kerb, looks back at Harvey with a smirk.
“Anything you say, boss,” and his smile is indecent.
Harvey can’t wait to see how well Mike over-achieves in his bed.
_____________________________________________________________