Work Header

An Excellent Thing

Work Text:

Mike comes into the bedroom, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, intending to get dressed in the suit and shirt he'd laid out the night before, when movement catches his eye and he turns.

Harvey is in front of the free-standing mirror, buttoning up his vest, and even though Mike has seen Harvey in a vest and no jacket hundreds of times, something about the way the sunlight hits his body makes Mike stop and stare.

Harvey looks up at him in the mirror. "What?"

"I never noticed before," Mike says, the towel dropping as he walks toward Harvey and puts his hand on his waist. Mike had thought himself very well acquainted with Harvey's body, with the way his ribcage narrows from the broad shoulders, the way his gorgeous behind pushes back out again. After all his suits are cut to accentuate the S-curve of his profile. But Mike hadn't noticed how Harvey looked from the front, how the vest gives him an hourglass curve, almost like a woman. Mike stands at Harvey's side and traces that curve up and down, armpit to upper thigh.

"You honestly never noticed the child-bearing hips?" Harvey asks, trying to be flip, but his cheeks are flushed, and Mike isn't sure if it's from embarrassment (Harvey? surely not) or arousal.

"Who called them that?"

"My brother."

Mike nods—embarrassment then, and an old one at that. He moves behind Harvey and wraps his hands around Harvey's waist. "I'd be proud to have you carry my child," he replies.

"Ma says Pa could span her waist with his hands when they were married," Harvey says.

"Charles Ingalls must have had unusually large hands," Mike replies, leaning his chin on Harvey's shoulder.

"Well, Caroline had some help."

A vision of Harvey getting the same help flashes before his eyes, and he leans in closer. "Would you like that?" he asks. "Leather instead of wool. Laces instead of buttons. Not too tight; just a little tighter than this." Mike pushes his hands together slightly and feels Harvey pull in his abs in response.

Harvey's face is redder now, but Mike is pretty sure there's no shame there anymore. "Apparently I would," he says.

"Keep breathing," Mike says, because he can feel Harvey gasping a bit, his breath stuttering under Mike's hands.

"I am," Harvey says. "And we need to get to the office."

Mike glances down, then steps away just long enough to grab the towel.

"Aren't you getting dressed?"

"We have a few minutes," Mike says, smirking, and kneels down in front of Harvey. He won't need more than that; he's easy, and the discovery of an unknown kink of Harvey's has sent a jolt of want through him.

As for Harvey, well, watching Mike in the mirror, kneeling down in front of him, naked where Harvey is fully clothed, pulling out his mostly-hard cock?

"No mess," Harvey says.

"I won't spill a drop," Mike promises, and Harvey gets harder still.

Yeah, Mike will only need a few minutes.

Mike gets Natasha's name from Donna, but he doesn't think about how Donna herself got that name until the first time he visits Natasha's workshop and realizes that her business partner, who makes suits for athletes rather than leather gear, not only knows Rene because they apprenticed with the same tailor but also knows Harvey because they share some clients. But that makes everything easier, because Rene is happy to give Harvey's measurements to Natasha, and knows how to be discreet.

On the day he gets word that it's finished, he sort of can't believe he managed to keep it from Harvey. But he just smiles at him mysteriously and tells him that he has a present, and then brings him up to Natasha's workshop up on 35th street, in the Garment District.

"You bought me a suit?" he asks as they walk through the show room.

"Of course not," Mike replies, leading him into the back.

And there it is. He looks at Harvey, to see his reaction, and isn't sure for a moment that "stunned speechless" is a good thing or a bad thing. Then Harvey starts walking forward, to the male dress form where the corset sits. His mouth is slightly open and he runs a finger slowly along the leather, the laces, reaches inside to feel the silk lining. There's a plain brown wool kilt to go with it, making it all look as suit like as possible except for the ways it isn't.

"This is for me?" Harvey asks at last.

"Of course," Natasha says, stepping forward. "We just need to do a final fitting. But Rene's measurements are so exact we probably won't need to make changes."

Harvey looks at Mike, who nods, and then he starts taking off his clothes, shoes and all, until he's down to his boxer briefs. The kilt goes on first, simple buckles that Harvey does up himself. Then Natasha and Mike slip the partially laced corset over Harvey's head and then she shows Mike how to lace it, where to allow give and where he can pull tighter. They stand back, so Harvey can look at himself in the mirror, and the first thing he does is slip off his briefs.

"I assume you want the full effect," Harvey says. Mike doesn't miss the way that Harvey's movements are restricted by the corset, even when doing something as simple as taking off his underwear, and realizes he's breathing a little faster.

So is Harvey, and not just because of the restriction. His skin is flushing again, and Mike can see so much more of it. The corset comes up just below his nipples, so his neck, arms, and the broad line of his shoulders are all exposed. The dark brown leather looks just as good against Harvey's slightly olive skin as Mike suspected it would, and Harvey keeps resting his hands on his cinched-in waist, pushing in at the boning of the corset. The brown wool kilt hangs to his knees, and it really does evoke the lines of his suits, the way the vest nips in at his waist and his hips and ass curve out. The kilt lays as smoothly on his backside as any of his trousers, and below Mike can see his shapely calves. Harvey is looking at himself in the mirror and his gaze is just a little unfocused, which matches how Mike feels.

"What do you think?" Natasha asks.

"I think it's perfect," Mike says.

Natasha goes over to Harvey, feeling how it fits, asking him questions, and he nods and answers them quickly, voice quiet,

"So, should we talk footwear?" Natasha asks.

"No," Mike says, firmly.

Natasha cocks her head. "But what if you want to go out to--"

Mike turns to her. "No one will see him like this except the people in this room," Mike replies. He turns back to Harvey and something flashes behind his eyes, something that makes Mike think he agrees.

"All right, then, let me show you how to work the kilt," Natasha says, and her voice snaps Mike out of his reverie.

"Work it?" Harvey asks, and he laughs a little nervously. "You mean, there are tricks other than putting it on?"

Mike and Natasha stand behind Harvey. "Take it from the middle seam, and roll it up," she says, and watches as Mike does so, revealing Harvey's thighs and backside. "Then take that tab, and button it on top." A strip of fabric, buttoned around the rolled-up kilt, holds it in place.

"Well now I feel … available," Harvey says, and his cheeks flush slightly.

Natasha smirks. "You can do the same in front but you might want to wait," she says, and Mike nods, given how obvious Harvey's erection is under the kilt. "Many people find the dressing room comfortable," she says, indicating a small space behind them with fabric walls that Mike hasn't even noticed. "I'll be out front."

Mike makes eye contact with Harvey in the mirror, staring at him until he hears Natasha leave the room. Then he walks around Harvey and rolls up the front of the kilt, buttoning it in place, and Harvey is so hard for him. Mike takes his time letting his eyes wander up from the bottom of the corset to Harvey's flushed chest and slightly tense shoulders, and then to his eyes. Of course they've played power games before--their whole relationship is a power game, maybe--but Mike realizes that now he's gotten to the place where he can change the arrangement, at least sometimes.

"When you wear this corset," Mike says, "you belong to me."

Harvey looks Mike square and even in the eye, and nods. "Yes," he says.

"Say it," Mike says.

"I belong to you, Mike," Harvey says.

"I'm going to take you into that room," Mike says, "and I'm going to fuck you."

"Please," Harvey says.

"Good," Mike says, nodding. "Come on." He leads the way into the curtained dressing room, and it's then that he sees a set of cubbyholes in the wall containing condoms, lube, and some other supplies he's pretty sure they won't need. He hands a condom to Harvey.

"Don't want to make a mess," he says. "Lean against the mirror. Don't want you trying to bend over."

"No," Harvey says, and once he has the condom on he puts his forearms against the glass, pushing his hips back, but his eyes are on Mike.

Mike grabs one of the little packets of lube and gets to work opening Harvey up. He puts a hand on Harvey's bare shoulder. "You need to relax," he says. "Don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Harvey says, blithely, but his shoulders do fall just a bit, and his stance widens.

"Good," Mike says, and then no more. He can't; he's a little overwhelmed here, just barely keeping it together, and he wants Harvey to feel like /he/ can fall apart. He wasn't sure until now why he'd ordered the corset, paid for it, what it was doing to him to see Harvey in it, but Harvey feels so vulnerable and delicate now that Mike wants to take care of him, to give him what he needs, to let him give up his considerable control for a little while. And the way Harvey is going pliant under his hands, he wants that, too. Not that they won't have to have some conversations about it, but Mike has a sense they're headed in the same direction.

He's looking forward to this particular negotiation, actually.

Mike opens his trousers with his clean hand, and it's weird that he's been so focused on Harvey in that corset, on the way he's breathing, the way he looks, that he hasn't even thought about how hard his own cock is. He rolls a condom on and lubes it up quickly, not wanting to take his eyes from Harvey—from Harvey's eyes, brown and intense in the mirror, and from the quick rise and fall of his chest. There's a towel nearby and he wipes his hands on it before placing his hands on Harvey's narrowed waist and pushing in firm and steady. The body contact makes Mike feel more solid, more together. He can do this.

Harvey offers no resistance, just braces himself against the mirror. "Still can't get your hands around it," he says, smiling at Mike's reflection.

"Not the goal," Mike says, pulling back to give Harvey the long, hard thrusts he likes. "You wouldn't be able to show it off anyway."

"True," Harvey replies. "So you like it?"

"Like you in it. You like it?"

"Like how you look at me in it."

Mike drops a kiss between Harvey's shoulder blades, needing to look away for a moment because it's a little too much. "Get used to it," he says.

"I'll try," Harvey says, and his shoulders slump just a little.

"It's all right," Mike says, softly. "I've got you."

And he does; his hands are firm around Harvey's waist. He feels Harvey testing that a little, loosening his arms from their brace against the wall, but Mike has him, is pulling him easily on and off his cock. So Harvey lets his top half go liquid, moving with Mike.

"Okay," Harvey says, closing his eyes. "Okay."

Neither of them last long after that, which is fine, it's good. Harvey shouldn't be laced up too long this first time anyway, Mike thinks. He cleans them up, puts the condoms in the trash and the towel in a hamper. Harvey is slumped against the mirror, watching Mike as he moves around, as he zips himself up.

"We should take that off now," Mike says. "It has a nice case."

Harvey stands up straight and his hands go to his waist again. "We should," he says, but sounds sorry to do it.

They take a cab home, holding hands in the back, maybe needing just a little bit of separation now to come back to themselves.

In the elevator, Harvey says, "We're going to have to talk about this. And I mean talk it all out."

Mike turns and smiles at him. "Good," he says, and when the doors open he leads the way into Harvey's apartment, the corset case in his hands.