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they say it's a choice (but perhaps it's inevitable)

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“This is not a good idea,” Harvey grinds out, even as he slams Mike back against the wall.

He has Mike by the wrists and, between his grip and his body, it’s near impossible for Mike to escape, not that he’s actually trying. Mike is, in actuality, arching his body up into Harvey’s to bring them closer together. The proximity is doing nothing for what little self control Harvey still possesses but he’s finding it harder and harder to remember why it is that he cares.

“It’s a great idea,” Mike says, when Harvey pauses to rest his forehead against Mike’s. With Harvey this close, Mike can feel his heartbeat racing.

“No, it isn’t,” Harvey says softly, closing his eyes and trying to summon up the will to let go of Mike and move away. “I can’t do this.”

“Harvey—”

Harvey kisses him again to shut him up, because the sound of Mike’s voice saying his name sends a wave of desire through his entire body, and loses himself in wanting and being able to have.

He’s been so good for so long. He’s done what he’s supposed to. He’s dressed the part, he’s acted the part. He’s slept with beautiful women, driven fast cars, won all his cases and never been seen with a hair out of place. Except for now. Now his hair is in disarray and his tie is askew, and his very male associate is squirming against him in a way that makes him want to flee and never let him go all at once.

I can’t have this, he thinks. I’m not allowed.

It isn’t Pearson Hardman acceptable, for one thing. It’s just him, indulging in one of those whims he thought he’d successfully eradicated at Jessica’s behest. (Except that Mike isn’t a whim. Mike is something he’s wanted from the moment he walked into his office and spilt a briefcase full of weed across his office floor.)

When he breaks the kiss for the second time, Mike is flushed in a way that makes Harvey imagine him lying naked in bed and the imagery almost undoes him. Mike is still, watching him with clear blue eyes, waiting to see what happens next.

“I can’t, Mike,” he says, and for the first time in a long time he wants to explain himself and his reasoning to someone for something other than selfish reasons. He doesn’t want Mike to hate him. He doesn’t want this to destroy them.

“Why not,” Mike asks, soft and wounded and— fuck, Harvey feels like the lowest kind of person. “Because of Jessica? Because of the firm?”

It is but probably not in the way Mike thinks.

“Because of who I am and who I’m going to be,” Harvey says, because it’s the best he can explain it without going into the whole thing. “Senior Partners at Pearson Hardman… they look the part and they act the part. This doesn’t fit the image.”

Mike is offended, Harvey can tell from the way his whole body freezes with tension.

“You won’t do this because it doesn’t fit your image,” Mike says incredulously. “Seriously?” his voice rises, “Because of your image?!”

Mike doesn’t understand it but Harvey didn’t expect him to. Mike, who doesn’t care how much his suits cost or what kind of transport he uses. Mike, who still can’t stop himself from caring too deeply about every client he gets involved with. Mike fell into this job, he hasn’t been working towards this his entire life. Harvey has, and he just can’t let that go.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he says softly, and that’s the wrong thing as well, because Mike is suddenly trying to free himself from Harvey’s grip.

Harvey lets him go because he doesn’t really have any other choice, even though he feels as if the world is crashing in around him as Mike snatches up his coat from Harvey’s couch. If Mike leaves Harvey isn’t sure they’ll ever repair the situation, but he doesn’t think he has the strength to ask him to stay.

“Of course you don’t,” Mike says, and now there’s bitterness clouding his tone of voice. “How could I possibly understand. Puppies don’t, I suppose.”

Harvey’s rooted to the spot, caught between wanting to grab Mike again and never let him go, and letting him walk away, which would probably be best for them both.

“It’s not— it’s not because I don’t want to,” Harvey says, his voice cracking, and Mike stops pulling on his coat to walk back over to him.

“I’m not asking you to walk into the office holding my hand, Harvey,” Mike says, with so much sadness in his voice that it makes Harvey’s heart ache. “I would never ask anything like that from you. But I like you and I think that’s pretty fucking obvious, so the least you could’ve done, since your image comes first, was not fuck with my head tonight.” He pauses and takes a breath. “Why kiss me if you can’t do this? What was this, Harvey?”

Harvey doesn’t know how to answer. “It was me losing control and forgetting myself,” he says then, taking a shaky breath and straightening his posture, working hard to begin rebuilding the wall he has to keep between them. “I’m sorry,” he says, words he so rarely speaks, and Mike looks at him, studies him, for a long moment.

“Harvey…” Mike sighs. “You’re one of the smartest people I know but you’re also an idiot.” He’s back in Harvey’s personal space, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, blue eyes intense. “I keep the fact that I’m not really a lawyer a secret from lawyers every single day. Do you really think we couldn’t keep this a secret between us?”

Harvey takes a breath to answer and then Mike kisses him before he can speak, nudging him backwards until they’re tumbling onto the couch. Mike’s weight against him is both comforting and arousing, and Harvey’s losing the battle against his common sense with every passing minute. He wants this. He needs this. Needs Mike, who is only person in recent memory who’s inspired the kind of feelings that he’s having now.

“One or both of us are going to get hurt,” Harvey warns, between kisses, his fingers snaking underneath the edges of Mike’s shirt. “There’s no way this can possibly end well.”

“Pessimist,” Mike says, light and teasing, and Harvey feels a smile tugging at his lips against his will.

“Stay,” Harvey says, and he isn’t sure if he means now, the night, in his life forever or a combination of all three.

“Yes,” Mike says, kissing him again, and Harvey mentally crosses a line. He can’t go back now.

“If we’re doing this we should be comfortable,” he says, as authoritatively as he can given that he’s lying under Mike and can’t move without dumping him on to the floor.

“Mm,” Mike agrees. “Bed.”

The thought of the combination of Mike and his bed makes him want to call in sick and stay there.

“Bed,” Harvey confirms, as Mike shifts his weight and then moves.

They stumble along together, the walls providing balance as they pull at each other’s clothing. Now that Harvey’s decided to do this, the need to get Mike out of his clothes is overwhelming; he needs to touch and feel and mark, so that Mike remembers. So that he’s imprinted on Mike the same way that Mike’s imprinted on him.

They make it to the bedroom, shirts gone and pants unzipped, and it doesn’t take long before they’re both naked and tumbling onto the bed together, hands roaming and mouths bruised by kisses. Harvey’s never seen a sight more appealing than this one — Mike naked against his soft, expensive sheets, lips pink and swollen, blue eyes wide and loving and trusting.

He mouths across Mike’s pulse point, sucking a bruise into his flesh. He can easily cover it with his shirt and tie for work, but if another woman tries to get her talons into Mike, it’ll serve as a reminder that he already belongs to someone else. Harvey might not be able to claim Mike publicly, but he still wants Mike to remember: Harvey Specter doesn’t share.

Mike’s fingers card through his hair as he tilts his head to give Harvey better access.

“Marking your territory?” Mike huffs, half-amused, squirming as Harvey bites down on his shoulder and then soothes the sting with his tongue. “I’m gonna end up black and blue, Harvey.”

Harvey groans at the thought and then again, louder, as Mike’s hand wraps around his erection.

“You’re mine now, Mike,” Harvey growls into his ear, panting as Mike’s grip tightens.

Mike kisses him and it’s hard and messy, all teeth and tongue.

“Harvey,” he whispers, “You’re implying that I wasn’t already yours to begin with.”

Harvey lets the words settle somewhere deep inside him as he shifts out of Mike’s reach, ignoring the protest that falls from his lips. He trails kisses down the slender body under his hands until he reaches Mike’s cock, hard and flushed and leaking at the tip, and licks him from root to tip, his tongue swirling over his slit, tasting him, assessing his next move.

He wraps his hand around the base and takes the head into his mouth, tasting the weight of Mike on his tongue. It’s been a while since he did this but his body remembers how and he’s dizzy from the heat and the taste and the smell of Mike, so earthy and male and endlessly familiar. He takes more of him in, his fingers falling away as he relaxes his throat and swallows Mike down, humming lightly in amusement at the whimpers and begging words that fall from Mike’s lips when he does.

“Harv— Harvey,” Mike gasps, tightening his fingers in Harvey’s hair, whining and desperate, his whole body flushed pink and radiating heat. He’s close and Harvey’s running out of patience to tease, sucking hard as he presses just the tip of his finger inside him. Mike comes with an incoherent shout and Harvey swallows it all, milks him through, and then finally, reluctantly, lets Mike’s cock slip from his lips. Mike has his eyes closed and there’s a smile playing on his lips that makes Harvey want to kiss him again and again.

He’s reaching for himself when Mike stills his hand. Harvey looks at him, lying wrecked against the sheets, and can’t help the soft groan he lets out, seeking friction against Mike’s leg. He’s still desperately, painfully, hard and he can’t really wait much longer.

“I want you to fuck me,” Mike says, and Harvey almost comes right then, his breath catching in his throat.

“Mike—“

“Harvey.”

And there’s all the reasons why they don’t have to do this right now but all of them are overridden by the surge of lust that sings through Harvey’s body at the idea. There’s lube in the bedside table and he takes a deep breath before he moves away from Mike to retrieve it. He unscrews the tube with shaking fingers, slicks his fingers as he settles back between Mike’s legs. Mike’s still lying on his back, watching Harvey intently, his eyes dark with lust.

It takes just about all Harvey’s self control to focus on sliding one finger inside him, slowly burying himself up to the knuckle. Mike tenses briefly and then relaxes, his body easily accepting the intrusion, even when Harvey adds another finger and begins to stretch him out. The idea that his body is used to this, that he’s done this recently with someone else, makes Harvey burn with jealousy, and he crooks his fingers until the tips brush against Mike’s prostate, making him babble and curse.

Harvey murmurs reassurances as he adds a third finger, rhythmically working him open. Mike’s hips are rocking in time with his movements, seeking moremoremore with every thrust of his fingers, and he clutches desperately at Harvey’s shoulders. Harvey likes him like this, spread out at his mercy, reduced to a needy mess by Harvey’s touch.

“Harvey, for fuck’s sake get on with it!” Mike growls, writhing beneath him, knotting his fingers into the bed sheets and bucking desperately against him.

Harvey slicks himself up and rests his hand on Mike’s hip to steady them both, pressing the head of his cock inside him, pausing to take a shaky breath. Mike’s hot and tight and Harvey’s dizzy with how very much he wants and needs this. Mike’s snarling at him to move, goddamn it, Harvey, MOVE, and Harvey does, finally, finding a rhythm that works, angling his thrusts to find the spot that makes Mike emit a high-pitched whine of something that might be Harvey’s name or might just be yesyesyesmorepleasenow, Harvey’s not quite sure.

His thrusts are becoming erratic and he’s so very fucking close but Mike’s hard again, and he wants them to come together, and then Mike’s wrapping a hand around himself and stroking in time with Harvey’s movements, and Mike’s voice is a growl as he whispers, “C’mon, Harvey, let go, c’mon, come for me,” and his ass clenches impossibly tight, and. Harvey’s world whites out as he shouts Mike’s name and comes so hard he thinks he might actually see stars. He’s vaguely aware of Mike following him over the edge, splashing them both with fluid, but he’s too busy collapsing on top of Mike and trying to catch his breath to really pay that much attention.

They lie together for a few minutes, sweat cooling against their skin, trading lazy, half-hearted kisses, before Mike detangles himself with a yawn and makes to move off the bed, leaning in to kiss Harvey as he does. Harvey lifts a hand to grab his wrist and Mike kisses him again, playful smile in place.

“I’m just going to clean up,” he says, by way of explanation. “I’ll come back in a minute.”

Really Harvey would rather go with him but moving is just not an option right now, so he watches the play of muscles across Mike’s back and ass instead as he walks away. Harvey hears the water running and then Mike returns a few minutes later with a damp washcloth, stroking it lightly across Harvey’s skin as he cleans away what remains of their combined mess. Harvey can’t remember the last time someone did this for him; these kind of encounters usually end in a quick shower and a parting of ways.

But then Mike returns the washcloth to the bathroom when he’s done and comes back to curl up next to Harvey, pulling the covers up over them both. Harvey brushes a kiss against his cheek. He feels lazy and languid, his body relaxing into the warmth of Mike by his side.

“Can we agree that you won’t freak out about this in the morning?” Mike asks with a yawn, rubbing his cheek against Harvey’s shoulder before settling down. “Because it’s gonna suck if you do.”

“I don’t ‘freak out’, as you put it,” Harvey grumbles, closing his eyes. “Go to sleep, Mike.”

Mike smiles. Harvey can feel it against his skin. “Good night, Harvey,” he says.

-

Harvey wakes first in the morning, pinned in place by the arm Mike has thrown across his stomach. Mike is still asleep, half burrowed into Harvey and half into a pillow, his face untroubled by the worries running rampant through Harvey’s head.

Watching Mike sleep, waking up with Mike beside him, is something of a balm to his soul. He can’t bring himself to regret the night although he knows that he probably should. He can’t keep Mike in his life forever — something will eventually drive him away, because Harvey can’t have everything he wants, conflicting desires don’t compute — but while he can hold on to him he fully intends to.

Mike stirs beside him with a contented murmur, his eyes fluttering as he makes his way to consciousness. Harvey wants to kiss him.

“Morning,” he says instead. “Sleep well?”

Mike is awake enough now to realise how they’re lying, but he merely smiles and snuggles closer.

“Very well,” Mike yawns into Harvey’s shoulder. “This bed is amazing.”

“It should be,” Harvey says mildly. “It was very expensive.”

“And the bed had you in it,” Mike says, “That’s kind of a bonus.”

Harvey wants, so desperately, to be allowed a lifetime of moments like these without losing his chance at everything he’s worked for.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says quietly.

“I’m glad you’re glad,” Mike shoots back, lifting his head to kiss Harvey briefly. “What time is it?”

“Little past five thirty.” Harvey is an early riser.

Mike pulls a face and then yawns again. Neither of them has had much sleep.

“I really have to get moving,” he says reluctantly. “I gotta get to work.”

“Come in with me,” Harvey suggests, because then he gets to keep Mike beside him a little longer.

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen when they walk out of his front door and out into the real world. He’s scared that last night was too good, too perfect. Perfect things don’t last. His relationships don’t last. (Though he’ll admit that’s mostly because he doesn’t have them.)

“I’m supposed to be there when you get there remember?” Mike says, his smile letting Harvey know that he’s only teasing. “Working hard to make your life easier.”

“You do make my life easier,” Harvey says.

It isn’t a lie. Since he hired Mike, his life has been so much better. He likes working with someone he can trust to do their job, even if that person happens to be untrained for it. He likes working with Mike.

“But today, come in with me,” Harvey continues. “We’ll say we had work to do on the way, that isn’t unusual.”

It isn’t really unusual for them to arrive at the office later in the morning because they’ve been doing something for a case, but today there is no work, just Harvey’s desire to drag this out as long as he can.

“If you’re okay with that, I’m okay with that,” Mike says amicably, before his smile turns mischievous and one of his hands begins to wander. Harvey’s breath catches in his throat. “How much time do we have?”

“All the time in the world,” Harvey says, wishing it could be true, moaning as Mike wraps his fingers around his cock. “Just— fuck.”

Mike laughs and says, “You read my mind.”