Mike never thought he would spend so much time shopping for clothes, never mind this much money. Harvey had practically twisted his arm, dragging him to this place. They were at one of those hugely intimidating men's fashion places that did not even like for scruffy young people like Mike to linger too long on the sidewalk out front.
Of course, the minute Harvey stepped inside with Mike at his elbow, four people rushed right to them with overly warm greetings and bright vows to get Mr. Specter whatever he wanted.
They each looked askance at Mike and his ill-fitting, off the rack suits and then back at Harvey, as if trying to ascertain the connection. A hopeless nephew, perhaps? No, actually, just some poor waif that blew in on the wind that Harvey has taken under his wing. For now.
When Harvey motioned to him and said, "Fix it," they descended upon him like wolves. Measuring tape criss crossed him everywhere. His cheap tie disappeared, then his jacket was almost forcibly removed. They even took his shoes .
He was being mugged, and Harvey was standing over there smiling at him.
The suits, the ties, the underwear, the socks, the belts, the cuff links… none of it had price tags. It freaked Mike out, but Harvey just kept adding to the pile.
"And this," he said to the personal shopper. "And four of these, and get me this in a darker red," And then, "I said, dark --you know what, nevermind. Try blue."
Mike endured having a series of shirts held up to him for Harvey's inspection. He eventually had to get out of even his pants and step into some unfinished clothing that hung strangely, but a tailor knelt down and immediately started adding pins.
"You could have at least taken him to Cristian to fix his hair before bringing him in here, darling," one of the men said to Harvey.
"It'll be our next stop," Harvey said in his smooth, darkly assured voice.
With the pins in place, Mike was made to strip back down to his underwear. He had put his cheaper pants on a chair, but they were gone now. He was in his oldest pair of boxers, his socks, and a thread bear undershirt, standing in bright florescent lighting, with at least seven fully dressed people knocking around.
Harvey closed in and more or less shoved him toward a changing screen. "Back there. Get into these."
And so Mike stepped out of his boxers--bare assed in a store for the very first time in his life--and into some tight fitting black underwear made of he did not know what, but which was soft as butter and breathable. He folded his old, slightly overused and thus warped-out-of-shape cotton boxers as neatly as he could and wondered what would happen to them. The trash, probably.
Next, Mike got into the new and far superior undershirt (honestly, he could not tell a single difference) and then the socks. If they could be called socks. These were more like what Mike considered panty hose. Black, silky and so thin they were almost see through, they went clear up over his calf to his knees.
He stepped back out from the screen and saw himself in the mirror. He was a man in nothing but an undershirt, man panties and way high socks, but now he somehow fit into this place. He looked no more out of sorts than Harvey. Even being half as dressed.
Harvey beamed at him, all crinkles and dimples. " Now we're getting somewhere!"
Mike stepped again into some more clothes and endured the stranger kneeling at his feet, uncomfortably close to his junk, applying pin after pin. Mike wondered if he should introduce himself. Felt weird not knowing the name of a guy wielding sharp objects near his beans.
While the tailor worked on his pants, Harvey put him in a series of shirts. Dark blue, every shade of gray, crisp white, and the occasional black. Patterns were limited to subtle plaid or pinstripes and in one notable occasion, a field of small gray fleur de lis on white.
"There are other colors in the world, Harvey," Mike scoffed as he tried on yet another pair of navy pants waiting to be altered.
"You mean neon blue or salmon pink or orange suits with some kind of paisley monstrosity shirt underneath?" Harvey snorted derisively, "I don't know what in the hell your generation thinks they're doing wearing clown suits like that."
"They're hip ."
Harvey laughed. It was a bright, happy laugh. He tilted his head almost fondly, "Mike. If you're going to work with me, your style is going to be based on timelessness. You are to never ever dress yourself based on flash-in-the-pan fads, or, for the love of god, affordability."
"Right," Mike said. He was given a jacket to try on. "Pinstripes! We're finally getting into some variety , I see!"
"Quit being a smart ass." Harvey said but Mike did not miss how Harvey next selected a purple shirt and held it up. It went promptly into the discard pile. Next came a forest green. It was apparently acceptable.
The tailor seemed finally finished. By Mike's calculation, the man would be making Mike five bespoke suits. He did not even want to know what that would to cost him.
"Now what?" Mike asked. He was by now comfortable being in his teeny tiny little underwear and big silky socks here in front of all these people.
"Now we find something for you to wear out."
They headed to a different section of the store. There were already finished suits on mannequins and racks and various ties and men's shoes on display. "We'll find something decent in your size and then go to dinner."
"I wanna try on that one," Mike pointed . Harvey looked and sighed. It was lighter gray with darker criss cross lines making a bold kind of checker pattern. "Or is a checkered suit too hip ?"
Harvey gave Mike a look, like he fought a smile and planned a punishment all at once. He snapped his fingers, never taking his eyes off Mike as he spoke to the attendant. "He'll try this one. With the plain white shirt and..." he snatched a surprisingly bright orange tie that was patterned with triangles and tiny little blue squares. "There. Colorful enough for you?"
Mike took the tie with a cheeky grin and pretended the flash in Harvey's eye was a friendly kind of playful and not a sexy kind of playful. Because holy crap, Harvey Specter might actually be too much man for Mike to handle right now.
He got into the clothes and could tell right away that Harvey was more impressed than he thought he would be. Hell, Mike was more impressed than he expected, too.
He had picked the gray checkered suit as nothing but a dig at Harvey's tendency toward playing it safe in the plain understated shades of blue section. But it actually looked good . The plain white shirt was a perfect offset to the gray checkers and provided a field for the outrageous tie to shine as the centerpiece of the entire outfit.
Mike stared at himself in the mirror. He looked important , yet still young and stylish enough to not be boring about it.
Harvey came up behind him, looking over his shoulder. He smiled. A smile as dark and powerful as his voice when he went for the win in any and every argument. There was an intensity to it, though, that was new. New like that sexy playfulness shining in his eyes before.
"Not bad, right?" Mike asked.
Harvey signaled the attendant. "Get him a gray vest."
"No vest," Mike said. He snorted at Harvey. "Seriously, man, what's with you and vests? You know we're in the new millennium, right?"
" Timelessness ," Harvey enunciated. Then to the attendant, "The Italian shoes, please."
"The pointier the toes the better!" Mike said.
" Ignore that ," Harvey ordered. "And a belt. Silver clasp."
"No belt," Mike said. "Lemme see what you have in suspenders."
Harvey barked with laughter. "Suspenders? And I'm in the wrong century?"
"I think I've proven I know what I'm doing." Mike said. He removed his jacket and between two options, took the silvery blue suspenders rather than the darker gray. The color went nicely with the suit as well as the tiny points of blue in the tie.
The attendant helped him put them on and then he modeled this way and that. He could tell by Harvey's face that he had won the argument.
"Congratulations," Harvey said, "You're straddling the line between sophisticated generation X and trying too hard hipster millennial."
"I think," Mike said in a mock whisper to the attendant, "That means I'm being bold yet timeless. He likes it."
The attendant giggled. "Mr. Specter has great taste."
"Buut," Mike prodded her gently, "He's afraid of colors that can't be found on the American flag."
The woman giggled, and Harvey looked like a storm cloud that was about to laugh and was mad about it, "Excuse me for not wanting to be a peacock !"
He plopped a pair of shoes at Mike's feet. "Get in these and let's go. We'll be late for dinner."
Mike stepped into the shoes. His very thin silk socks against the hard interior soles felt strange. He wriggled his toes, thinking that walking one block in these shoes was going to hurt. But not as much as the bill he was about to have to pay.
"Put it all on my account," Harvey told the woman behind the register.
Mike balked. "You can't--how much money did you just spend on me?"
Harvey clapped him on the shoulder. "Pay me back by not disappointing me. That means winning the cases I give you, not making my life difficult at every turn, and, when Louis gives you shit, telling him to shove it ."
Eight steps down the street, and Mike had already turned three heads. Two young women and a super hot guy. He liked this. A lot. And, like almost every single other aspect of his life right now, he owed it to Harvey.
"Whatever you say, Harvey."
Ok, so Harvey just dropped twenty five grand on Mike like it was pocket change. Thankfully, he could afford to do so, but the financial prowess that got him in his social bracket did not include going around spending that kind of money on a whim.
It was just that Mike had so much raw potential, and he looked so good when he dressed like a grown up, and it was so fun teaching him but also somehow being taught by him.... Harvey got way too carried away in there.
Spoiling Mike like this had to be a one time thing.
Unfortunately, this one-time spoiling did not stop at a new wardrobe. It turned out that Mike never had veal, and did not know what a decent wine was, and then he had the biggest, cutest eyes for the lava cake, and then he wanted seconds of said cake, and Harvey just could not help himself.
What was it about Mike Ross that Harvey just could not resist?
His brilliance? His odd, wobbling confidence? His smile?
That suit. Having been made by the very best tailor in town, it was far from a clown suit. But Harvey would have looked right over it if not for Mike. Because, beyond shirts, Harvey did tend to avoid anything other than pinstripes. There was nothing wrong with a gray on gray checkered suit at all. It was classy, yet dynamic .
Harvey almost wanted to shout, look what I found! I found the guy who is going to outshine us all!
In the car after dinner, Mike was a little tipsy and smiley and happy. Harvey reached over and straightened Mike's vivid orange tie, which had twisted itself around more than once, saying as he did so, "Either keep the jacket buttoned or get a vest to tuck it in, and this won't happen."
"Or I could get a tie tack thingie," Mike said and also reached for the tie. Their fingers brushed.
Harvey's heart jumped. Dating in the workplace was frowned on. But so was practicing law without a license. And if Harvey was willing to hire Mike on his eidetic memory alone, just for the high octane thrill of it, then fucking Mike would be on par. Right?
Mike's sexual experiences were limited to people his own age. Three people, to be specific. Passionate puppy-love his senior year of high school, then, an-almost-nothing-fling with Trevor. (That short lived adventure, of course, had been in Trevor's experimental days. It had not gotten past blow jobs and sloppy frottage.) Trevor had been followed by a whirlwind romance with a young man in his economics class, which turned out to be a crash course in First Real Love Agony when Mike got kicked out of college.
Since then, Mike's life had been weighted more toward survival for himself and his nana, than pleasure. So when Harvey kissed him, Mike was ready , but in that way of someone who never actually jumped out of the plane before. Harvey's kiss was phenomenal. Firm yet with finesse. Consuming yet beckoning. For someone like Mike, who was still racking up hours in his make-out game, Harvey Specter came in like a kissing god.
The car pulled to a stop, and Harvey calmly and confidently took Mike up to his apartment. Mike tried not to fidget in the elevator, tried not to avoid Harvey's lustful gaze, but looking right at him was like looking at the wolf about to have his dinner.
Mike whistled low as he saw the condo. No wonder Harvey had not batted an eye at buying all those clothes for Mike. He probably just spent the interest his bank account earned monthly. Mike turned in a circle on the spot, mouth agape, as Harvey moved around the apartment.
Windows. Windows everywhere he looked. It was possible this apartment had no exterior walls, only windows. There was one solid wall dividing what looked like a kitchen from the living room. And stairs to the second floor.
"Are you, like, super villain rich?"
Harvey snorted. "No. I have a couple of million. Which is modest in the waters we swim in. Come here."
Mike went to him, feeling jumpy inside but all kinds of horny, too. He wanted another kiss. With lust dark eyes, Harvey took his face in his hands. Kissed him. Mike surged into it, hungry for the feeling of being devoured.
Even though Mike had experience with two other men under his belt, everything Harvey did felt brand new and exciting. He did it with such a steady hand. With such patience and expertise.
He pressed Mike to the cool glass of the window, kissed him senseless. He opened Mike's clothes, touched his skin, groped his ass and nipples and grinded the hard ridges of their cocks together through their clothes.
Harvey made a hickey on Mike's neck, and Mike fed on more and more kisses until his mouth felt stale.
It was not until Mike was on his knees in the wide open living room with all the windows, as he was swallowing the biggest cock he had ever met, (and swallowing it, and swallowing it, and licking and sucking it, and swallowing it) that it occurred to him, the stamina Harvey must have.
Despite having rustled Mike's clothes every which way, Harvey had only pulled his dick out of his pants and had not removed a single bit of clothing. Not a button out of place. His dick and balls jutted obscenely from his trousers. He was rock hard. Yet he was patient with it. Mike shivered as he took the slow and steady face fuck of a man who, apparently, put the head of his dick in someone's throat as a warm up.
The waters we swim in , Harvey had called it. A little late, Mike began to understand that those waters were well and truly over his head, and not in a diving-side-of-the-pool way, but in an ocean way. The shark-infested-waters-above-the-place-where-the-kraken-lived way. And it was sink or swim time. Mike would not sink. He would not disappoint Harvey. Not now. Not ever.
So what if his last boyfriend and he had approached sex in a young and awkward, slap-dash race to the finish line? Mike could do this. This… lingering, feasting on it, thing. Except Harvey's dick was thick, velvety, hot, and delicious, and Mike was already about to unload in his expensive new underwear just from the feel of it in his mouth.
Harvey pulled him to his feet, kissing him with a growl. "You're incredible," he said. "No gag reflex? Really?"
Mike shrugged humbly. "I guess my brain's not my only asset."
Harvey snickered, grabbing his ass hard enough to part his cheeks and press on his hole through his new trousers, hauling Mike against his exposed dick and grinding. "Bet you have all kinds of hidden assets."
Harvey was on the edge. Mike Ross was gorgeous and eager, and he seriously had no gag reflex. (With the memory he had on him, wasn't that like lightning striking twice? ) He manhandled Mike to the couch and down, shoving those freaking suspenders off his shoulders, yanking down his pants, mouthing at Mike's hard dick through the new underwear. And, as he had been doing all night, Mike moaned like a whore. The muscles in his belly fluttered under Harvey's hand. His dick twitched and leaked.
Harvey chuckled. "Are you close?"
Mike tried to deny it, but Harvey saw right through him. He pulled the underwear down and paused to yank off his shoes so that the bottoms could be out of the way completely. His cock was curved up against his lower abdomen. (Harvey made a mental note that some manscapping was on the docket after his haircut. Though his unkempt blond pubes did have a certain cuteness to them.)
Harvey paused to admire Mike, sprawled on his back on the couch. He was in his new shirts, his ostentatious tie, his over the calf socks and absolutely nothing else. Mike's legs were free to part invitingly. His pale thighs were an amazing shape, as were his calves. From biking everywhere, no doubt. His ass was like a dream.
Mike felt a little exposed laying there bare ass on a couch. Harvey, kneeling over him, was still entirely dressed. When Harvey caught his ankles, Mike expected the socks to be pulled away and tossed aside like the rest of his clothes. But what happened instead was that Harvey's broad, warm hands moved up and down his silk covered shins and then, gripping his ankles, he put Mike's socked feet together heel to heel and then shoved his cock into the silky crease of his arches.
Harvey Specter started fucking Mike's feet. And it was hot . Hotter than it had a right to be. Mike could not believe how hot it was. He could feel how hard Harvey was, he could see the precome sliding out. Harvey thrust in and out in his usual controlled way, just as he had fucked Mike's mouth. Mike stroked himself and pressed his feet closer together, squeezing that huge dick, watching the pleasure on Harvey's face.
Harvey smiled at him. He seemed to enjoy the silky feel of the fabric, because he slid his hands up and down Mike's shins, his calves, and over his toes. He stopped, pulled one of Mike's feet up, bit Mike's sock covered toes, kissed his arch. Mike's nervous system lit up with the almost ticklish pleasure of it. Then--as Mike gently nudged his other toes into Harvey's exposed balls--Harvey grunted and pressed Mike's feet back together into place and returned to thrusting into them.
Mike jerked himself, watching Harvey work. His feet were pressed together in a way that bent his knees and opened his groin, exposing his fluttering asshole. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and then reached behind his balls to his hole, which was when Harvey stopped, rolled him over, and began licking him open.
Mike trembled every time he felt the smooth front of Harvey's teeth slide against his fundament while that talented tongue did wicked things. He choked out, "yeah, harder."
Harvey licked harder. Mike whimpered, rocking backwards and hissing when he felt the brush of teeth again. His heart pounded at the notion of a bite in such a tender and intimate area. He had never had one, never thought about having one, but he wanted it now. So badly he whined. "Bite me. Make it hurt. Leave a mark."
Harvey made a noise of surprise and pulled back. His hot breath washed over the wet and raw pucker he had been teasing. "Are you sure?"
The first spike of uncertainty stabbed through Mike's heart, and he gasped. Shit, was that a weird thing to ask for? He looked over his shoulder at Harvey's still burning eyes, the tilted smile of intrigue. Mike exhaled shakily. "I'm into it," he whispered.
Harvey's eyes sparkled, and his smile writhed a little as he crawled slowly back over Mike. His body heat and the brush of his clothes made Mike moan before the low timber of his voice made him tremble again. "That's hot. But," Harvey went onto his knees and his hands surveyed Mike's body. His voice was pensive yet critical. "I don't see any marks on you. When was the last time someone took good care of you, hm?"
Mike's voice cracked over two syllables, "never."
He gulped. "I'm not that experienced, I guess."
"Mike." Harvey settled over him. His eyes caught the light but were still a rich, dark brown. "Are you a virgin?"
"No," he said, mortified. "I've done stuff. I've been with people . As in more than one guy, and more than once with all three of them!"
Harvey chuckled, more to himself. "All three, huh?" He breathed heavily, "Been a while, though?"
Mike mumbled vague excuses, and Harvey started kissing down his spine. "Sounds like it was all vanilla, too."
So embarrassed he had to hide his face in the couch cushions, Mike confirmed the conclusion. Harvey's hands tightened their grip, and his breath got hotter, and his teeth dragged sensually over the small of Mike's back. Mike moaned.
Harvey had seen Mike's face when he played with his feet--it was no surprise after that to learn Mike really had no idea what he wanted. But to start out with a request to be bitten hard on the ass was...well, it was as bold as that damn checkered suit and crazy tie. Harvey explored Mike's body with kisses until he found a good, sensitive, meaty place. The upper left ass cheek, right above a stupidly cute little freckle.
He nipped experimentally. Mike giggled. He nipped a little harder. Mike hummed. Harvey opened wide and positioned his teeth as if he could tear a chunk off the bone, but paused like that. Mike's breathing went erratic, and he clutched the couch cushions in anticipation. Harvey slowly sank his teeth in as far as he dared.
A high pitched, involuntary sound muffled in the cushions, made him ease off. He looked at the teeth impressions. He had a uniform bite thanks to years of orthodontic torture, but the marks were already fading. He blew air across it and asked, "okay?"
"Oh god," Mike moaned into the cushions, voice ragged. He shook. "Oh Harvey. Do that again. Please."
Mike flopped onto his back but cupped the bite mark lovely, his lip between his teeth. He instantly fondled Harvey's dick with his feet, sending his already quickened pulse skyrocketing. Harvey laughed and caught one of his skinny ankles, ran his face along the socked calf muscle toward exposed skin, teasing another bite. "You really liked that, huh?"
He lightly raked his teeth through leg hair, a first for him. Mike swelled with a pleasurable sigh. Harvey grinned. "The pain?"
Mike shook his head, attention on teasing Harvey's balls with his toes. "Meh. It's more about. I don't know. How primal it is?"
Primal? Harvey loved that word. He growled. Oh, he could show Mike primal . He bit Mike on the calf, just as slow as last time. Holding eye contact, he stopped when Mike's jaw suddenly dropped on an involuntary gasp of pain.
Harvey eased off. The sight of the mark next to the nylon caused an incredible stir that he was not at all prepared for. He needed lube. Lots of lube. Right now. "Don't move." He jumped up and removed his outer layers on the way to a bathroom drawer where he kept the supplies. When he came back to the sofa wearing briefs and socks, opening the condom packet with his teeth, Mike propped on an elbow and grinned lasciviously.
"Is it the feet or the fabric? I can't tell."
The question came from left field, and Harvey huffed as he casually avoided eye contact. "Both, if you must know."
"It's not a full blown fetish," he said, rather defensively. Currently, he was perfectly capable of getting off without the texture of nylon. It was, however, a little trickier to tell about feet. Feet tended to factor in no matter what: everyone had feet and most positions put them in the mix--he could not believe he was even talking about it. "It's just a thing I like. One of many."
"Yeah," Mike stood on his knees and held the back of the couch, looking at the glass walls as Harvey applied the lube. "You like to be watched, too, don't ya?"
"People can't actually see in here without binoculars."
"C'mon." Mike swallowed a noise when Harvey added a finger. He smirked. "At least one person has some binoculars on us right now. This is New York."
Harvey grinned as he worked. "I know."
"You do like it!"
"I never denied it."
Mike laughed and dropped onto his back. They kissed and grappled playfully with nips and an intuitive effort on Mike's part to run the arches of his feet over as much of Harvey's legs as his flexibility permitted. But Harvey did not forget that Mike was not from the fast life and probably considered sex with the lights on a wild ride. He had to catch his breath to ask, "Are you okay? Because we can go upstairs. It's like this but there are blinds that I can draw."
"M okay," Mike slurred between sloppy kisses. His entire body was thrumming beneath Harvey. "Animals don't hide in the wild."
"No, they do not." Harvey proclaimed. He liked having all of New York visible during sex. This was the jungle, and he was the king of it.
He tossed Mike back onto his stomach and nipped him on the shoulder and then scraped him here and there across the back. It was pretty incredible how responsive Mike was to the feel of teeth on his skin. It could not be about pain at all if he even enjoyed light grazing. Now harder than ever, Harvey was ready. He teased the tip of his cock in, stretching him little by little.
Mike whimpered and gasped and whined as he took every inch. "Whoa, whoa , you're big! Unnngh ."
Mike was deliciously tight. Harvey gathered every last ounce of patience he had left and gave him time to adjust. It helped knowing that Mike was practically a virgin. He passed the time working a hickey on his shoulder blade. When he felt Mike bump himself sweetly on the cock, Harvey chuckled and levered back up into position. "Oh, you're mine now."
Mike had been right about the stamina thing. Harvey was a machine. He had never been used so rigorously, so thoroughly . He drooled. He cried. His throat got raw from shouting. He left his body and came back just in time to come with a force that tucked his balls in for a second. It was closer to a panic attack than an orgasm. Holy fuck.
"Mike. C'mere," Harvey rasped. The next thing he knew, he was manhandled across Harvey's lap, into a hug. Harvey cradled the back of his head and scrubbed his arm. "Hm? For heaven's sake, look at you. Did you lie to me? Was that your first time?"
The horror of such a question made it impossible to catch his breath but Mike tried to speak all the same. It came out a garbled mess that did nothing to defend his case. But that was because his modest dalliances had just been blown out of the water. Mike had no case. Not really. Not when he had had no idea real life sex could be like that .
Harvey scrubbed his leg too, hand lingering as it dragged over his silk-covered shin. Goosebumps lifted all over Mike's body, and he curled instinctively into Harvey's stronger chest. "First time like that," he mumbled.
" Safe ."
Harvey's sudden hard expulsion of breath made Mike hear what that sounded like and he quickly clarified, "Not like that. I mean. Safe to be myself. It was..." He swallowed loudly. "Liberating."
He grunted softly, lips brushed the shell of his ear. "Oh…"
Mike choked on more words.
Harvey shushed softly. His voice seemed extra deep and gruff. "Just breathe deep for me, Mike. That's it. Do you want some water?"
Mike shook his head and burrowed deeper into the hug. His mouth was dry, but he did not want to let go just yet. He could not. Harvey just held him for a second, and then gusted air and a distracted, "What am I gonna do with you?"
"Sorry. I'm being weird."
"No," Harvey said a little too quickly. He smacked his lips. "You're being...cute."
"Cute?" That was somehow worse.
"Oh my god."
"I'm into it," Harvey whispered. "I don't know what it is, but it's fresh, it's fun. You're great. This is. Really great."
Mike detected something in Harvey's halted voice that made his heart skip a beat. He bit his lip and dragged a stuttered breath to the bottom of his lungs. He hummed. "Water?"
"Now? Okay, I'll get it."
They separated and Mike checked the couch for stains. There were a few spots. "Do you just buy a new couch after this or what?"
Harvey laughed from the kitchen. "I've got a cleaning team who work miracles, and that's a fact."
Mike stood up, discovering he had something pretty close to sea legs, but the sensation passed quickly. He found his shirt and got into it before being suddenly overcome with the urge to do a risky business slide over to Harvey. He did it, gliding a lot further than he anticipated over the marble floor.
Harvey saw him coming, leaned back on the sink, and laughed. Mike nearly collided with him. Harvey protected the glass of water and then sipped it before handing it over. Mike discovered a powerful thirst and nearly drained the whole thing. He caught his breath and laughed. "How'm I supposed to ride my bike tomorrow after what you did?"
"Take a car like a grown up."
"Send me a car then."
"Stay here tonight, and we can share one."
"Fine," Harvey said, eyes glittering as he took another sip. He sat the glass aside. Mike pulled him in by the shirt for a little kiss.
This was not spoiling, it was practical. Mike would be too tired and sore tomorrow to peddle that bike safely across the city. Harvey did not give it another thought beyond that. He certainly did not dwell on the fact that he could not remember the last time he invited anyone to stay over.
Mike--still totally bottomless in nothing but his new shirt and socks-- went ahead of him up the stairs. Harvey lifted the hem of the shirt to examine the bite mark on his butt. It was barely a splotch now. Mike squirmed and hid his bottom with a bashful glance back.
Harvey measured his breathing. He had either struck gold, or he was being hustled here, big time.
In the bedroom, Mike visited the bathroom before he came out wearing nothing and climbed beneath the covers with a little kitten yawn. Harvey went next and put his retainer in before coming back out in his usual sleep wear. Open mouthed kisses were done for tonight. And the less talking the better with this stupid thing in.
Fortunately, Mike was already half asleep, sighing every other breath and humming happily. Harvey could only guess at the cheap monstrosity that Mike called a bed at his place, but this was clearly the most comfortable mattress Mike had ever landed on. The last cohesive thought to cross Harvey's mind before he dropped off was the cautionary tale of letting new pets sleep in the bed.