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The Bet

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The look on Harvey’s face is priceless. To the casual observer he might look unamused-bordering-on-irritated. But beneath that humorless surface Mike detects a few more emotions. There’s shock. Deep-seated, horrified shock, because Harvey Specter doesn’t lose bets. Harvey Specter is a master of reading people, Harvey Specter never gets it wrong. He’s the King of Gambling, he’s not a player he’s a winner. And then there’s the ‘oh fuck, what have I done’ look that no amount of poker-facing can disguise from Mike. Because only Mike knows about this bet and only Mike knows what the stakes are, and only Mike can let Harvey off the hook. Which he has no intention of doing.

Mike can’t stop laughing.

He wanders over and stands in front of Harvey, hands in pocket, laughing non-stop, which isn’t going down too well but Mike doesn’t give a shit.

“So,” he says. “When will you be—” He widens his eyes at Harvey. “—paying up?”

Harvey stares daggers at him, and Mike starts laughing again.

“You know, Harvey, if you back out of this you’ll forever be known as a welcher. Not to anyone else — I have no interest in ruining your reputation — but to me. Right here.” He taps his chest twice with his fist. “In my heart.”

“What makes you think I’m going to back out?”

Mike’s eyebrows shoot up, his laughter turns a little confused. “Oh right. So you’re going to—” He drops his voice to a whisper. “Suck my cock.” Harvey’s expression remains static. “That’s what you’re going to do. You’re actually going to go through with it.”

Harvey shrugs. “If you come to collect, I’ll pay what I owe.”

“You don’t think I’ll collect? Are you kidding? Just name the time and place.”

Harvey turns, and with a dismissive wave he makes his way back to his desk. “Not at work, of course. You’ll have to come over to my place.” He sits down in his chair.

This is starting to get weird. Mike isn’t sure whether or not to take Harvey seriously and it’s making him feel unsettled. “When?” He wishes his voice hadn’t just cracked. It was better when he was the amused one in control and Harvey was flustered and out of his depth. Dammit, how does this asshole always manage to get the better of every situation?

“You won the bet, Mike,” Harvey says, a hint of contempt in his tone. “You get to name the time.”

“But not the place,” Mike says in a pathetic attempt to stall.

“You wanna pick the place too? Go ahead, as long as it’s nowhere near work.”

What the hell is going on? Are they actually negotiating the logistics of the blow-job Harvey is going to perform on Mike? Is this real life? Mike internally slaps himself across the face when he realizes what Harvey’s doing. This isn’t about oral sex at all — it’s a game of chicken. Because there is no way in hell Harvey is actually going to go through with it; he’s just pretending he’s prepared to go through with it in order to freak Mike out. Well two can play at that game.

“Nah, your place is cool. I’ll come by tonight — when will you be home?”

Harvey’s pause fills Mike with glee. He’ll figure out what Mike’s doing soon enough, and then they’ll probably continue to play with each other right up until the very last minute.

“Eleven thirty,” Harvey says. Which Mike suspects is total bullshit. He picked that time in an attempt to put Mike off, because it’s Tuesday and they have an early meeting tomorrow and Mike was planning on being in bed by ten tonight because he hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in over a week and telling him to come over at eleven thirty is just plain sneaky and mean.

Mike yawns. “See you then,” he says, because he’s not prepared to cave. He turns to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going? You need to go through those contracts—” Harvey points at the thick stack of documents on his coffee table. “—before you go home.” He’s giving Mike his patented ‘why are you such a pain in my butt?’ look, as if the two of them hadn’t just been talking about their forthcoming late-night sex-wager shenanigans, and Mike remembers that they actually have a lot to do between now and tomorrow.

“Oh yeah,” he says, walking over to the couch, taking a seat and reaching for the folder at the top of the pile. “I guess I’ll be here a while.”

“Yuh,” Harvey says, like no shit, Sherlock.


Harvey had been so sure of himself, he’d been his typical obnoxious self, he’d talked down to Mike as if there was no way in hell Mike could have read the situation correctly. As if, compared to Harvey, Mike’s people reading skills are a total friggin’ joke.

“Just you watch, Nicholson will cave. We’re not going to court,” he declared. And normally Mike would have believed him, but he’d just finished talking with Andrea Nicholson on the phone and there was no way in hell she was giving in on this one. She had a lot to lose, sure, but she was also more stubborn than Harvey seemed to realize.

“Bet you she doesn’t,” Mike had replied.

“Oh you want to bet?” Harvey started chuckling. “Fine. When I win, you are going to—” He stared off into the distance, visibly plotting. “—take care of all the pro bono cases Jessica throws my way for the next year.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “And what do I get if I’m right?”

“If you’re right,” Harvey said, scoffing, as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the entire world. “I’ll blow you.”

“What?!” Mike spluttered. “You’ll what now?”

But Harvey didn’t take it back, he just nodded at Mike with a self-assured smile, because he knew with one hundred percent certainty that he couldn’t lose. “You heard me.”

“Wow. You are really sure you’re right about this.”

“I know I’m right.”

It occurred to Mike that one blowjob versus a year’s worth of unwanted work weren’t the most evenly matched stakes, although he couldn’t decide which of them had the better deal. Either way, Mike had to go through with it. He could handle losing — he already takes on most of Harvey’s pro bono cases as it is; he likes pro bono work. His life wouldn’t even change much if he lost. But if he won. Oh man, Harvey would...well, he’d never go through with it of course, but then Mike would have this to hang over his head for the rest of their lives.

“Deal,” Mike said, offering his hand. Harvey frowned at Mike’s hand in surprise — he’d not expected Mike to take the bet, because he’s that fucking cocky. He’d honestly thought Mike would fold, admit that Harvey is never wrong, and they’d go about their day.

Harvey shook Mike’s hand. “Your funeral,” he said.


Mike calls Harvey’s bluff and turns up at his condo at 10.30. He couldn’t stand the wait any longer, he’s tired and he just wants to get this over with, and he’s certain Harvey’s already home. He’ll go in, act like he’s expecting a blowjob, and Harvey will have no choice but to welch. It’s perfect. Although, just in case, Mike did have a shower before coming over. Not because anything is going to happen, but...just in case.

The door opens and Harvey stands there, looking annoyed. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you’d be home, you big liar.” He walks past Harvey into the apartment and heads down the hall.

Harvey follows him. “You came to collect,” he says, a note of disbelief in his voice.

“I sure did!” Mike replies with a grin. “Where do you want me?” He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over one of the stools at the kitchen counter. He turns expectant eyes on Harvey, who just stares at him shaking his head. Mike points his thumb over his shoulder. “Couch?”

It takes Harvey a while to respond, but then he goes to the fridge, opens it and plucks out a couple beers. He hands one to Mike. “Here, relax. What’s your hurry?”

Mike blows out a puff of air. “Well it’s late and I’m tired, but I guess there’s no harm in kicking things off with a drink.” He twists off the cap and takes a sip. The way Harvey is looking at him — all serious and moody — is starting to make him feel nervous; his bravado is fading fast.

They sip their beers in silence, watching each other, and Mike realizes he’s waiting to be kicked out. He knows it could take a while because Harvey still thinks he can get the better of Mike here, he still believes Mike will be the one to call it off, to say he doesn’t have to pay up after all, maybe even to come up with a less inappropriate reward.

“Go sit on the couch,” Harvey says.

Mike gulps, and then says, sarcastically, “Oh, okay,” because even though Harvey doesn’t look like he’s joking, this is by far the most absurd situation Mike’s ever found himself in. And that’s saying something.

Still, he puts his beer down on the counter and walks over to the couch. Sits down. Harvey follows him and picks up a cushion from the adjacent armchair, stands in front of Mike and stares down at him. “Spread your legs,” he says.

Mike’s mouth falls open. “Seriously?” What the hell is going on?

But he does as he’s told and then Harvey drops the cushion on the floor between his legs and kneels on it. Harvey is kneeling. Between Mike’s legs.


The rest of his question is cut short by Harvey reaching over and popping the button on Mike’s jeans, unzipping his fly. “Oh my God,” Mike whispers. This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening.

Fingers dip into the waistband of Mike’s boxer shorts and Harvey tugs them down as far as they’ll go, to just below the root of Mike’s cock, and then Harvey reaches inside and pulls it out, Mike gaping down, riveted by the sight of Harvey holding onto him. Squeezing and stroking him, getting him hard.

“Shit, Harvey,” Mike whispers. “You’re really doing this.”

Harvey looks up at him, his eyes dark and his voice soft. “You want me to stop?”

What a question. Mike feels like he should want Harvey to stop, because Harvey is his boss, his mentor and his friend. But Harvey’s hand feels really good and if this is real, if Harvey really does intend to pay what he owes, then Mike’s cock is soon going to be in Harvey’s mouth, and Jesus that’s...that’s an enticing prospect that Mike is not remotely capable of turning down. Eyes wide and unblinking, he shakes his head.

Gets a little smile in return — Harvey’s first smile since Mike arrived at his apartment.

Mike’s getting harder by the second, and impatient for things to escalate. He starts moving his hips in time with Harvey’s slow moving hand; clutches the hem of his t-shirt in one fist and drags it up his body, baring his stomach. Harvey’s hand stills and he rubs Mike’s frenular delta in a slow circle with the pad of his thumb. “Feels good,” Mike murmurs.

That’s when Harvey lets go of his cock and Mike worries that he’s changed his mind about doing this. He’s about to ask him what’s going on but then Harvey hooks his fingers into the sides of Mike’s jeans and underwear, says, “Lift your hips,” and when Mike obliges he tugs them down his thighs. Mike sits back down on his bare ass and watches, speechless, as Harvey shifts back so he can take off Mike’s shoes and socks. Strip off Mike’s jeans and underwear, leaving Mike naked save the rucked up t-shirt he’s still wearing. Harvey settles back between Mike’s legs, takes hold of his cock again, and resumes stroking.

Oh shit oh shit, he’s gonna—

Harvey bends his head and flattens his tongue against the head of Mike’s cock, gives it a few firm licks that make Mike gasp, and then goes down, taking Mike deep into the wet heat of his mouth. Mike throws his head back and pushes his hips forward with a long, helpless moan. “Fuck. Oh fuck.”

Watching the entire length of his cock disappear into Harvey’s mouth, Harvey’s cheeks hollowing as he pulls back...God it’s one of the hottest things Mike’s ever seen. He hadn’t let himself imagine this, not once, not even in the shower earlier when he was washing his penis, because the idea of it was too absurd. Harvey’s not into him like that, and he’s not the kind of man who’d have sex with someone he wasn’t attracted to, no matter the circumstances. Neither is Mike. So the bet ultimately didn’t matter, because loser or not, Harvey wouldn’t suck someone’s cock unless he wanted to. Mike didn’t let himself imagine this because he knew Harvey didn’t want it.

But apparently Mike was wrong. Very wrong. Because Harvey’s working Mike’s cock with his hand and mouth with what can only be described as enthusiastic pleasure. Those little moans he makes around Mike’s cock that vibrate right through him; the way his free hand massages Mike’s upper thigh, skates up over his groin and settles on his belly, fingers splayed and digging into the flesh there. This is a man perfectly happy with exactly where he is right now; this is a man enjoying himself. Mike’s so aroused by what’s happening he bends his knees and spreads his legs as wide as he can, leveraging himself on the couch by digging his heels into the edge of it.

Harvey seems to take Mike’s shift in position as the invitation it was intended as, releasing Mike’s cock and sucking Mike’s balls into his mouth instead, before pushing them out of the way with his hand and lapping at the sensitive skin behind his scrotum. Mike’s non-stop moaning echoes around the room and there’s no going back now; this is more than just winning a bet, more than a blowjob; this is sex. Really fucking good sex. Mike reaches down and hooks his hands under his thighs so he can hold himself open for Harvey. And when Harvey’s fingers slide down his crack, fingertips rubbing at his opening, Mike starts babbling encouragement. “Yeah yeah fuck yeah. Do it.” He hisses, gasps, groans. Pushes forward in a desperate bid to get Harvey to penetrate him.

He’s being licked instead. Rimmed. Harvey’s kissing and tonguing his asshole like he’s starving for it, and there it is, there’s a finger, right there, pushing inside him, all the way inside him. And this falls way outside the remit of a blowjob, this is way above and beyond the call of duty. Harvey is under no obligation to fuck him with his fingers and tongue, but he’s doing just that and the intense pleasure of it is driving Mike crazy with lust and gratitude. He’s vaguely aware of the noises he’s making and how loud he’s being and that he’s practically sobbing from the pleasure of it all.

Before returning his mouth to Mike’s cock, Harvey presses wet, messy kisses to the insides of Mike’s thighs, and when he begins to suck on Mike’s dick again he leaves his fingers in Mike’s ass, sliding them in and out, stroking the bottom half of his cock with his other hand, sucking hard on the top half of it with his hungry mouth.

When Mike comes, a rush of hormonal bliss pulsing through him, spurting from his cock right into Harvey’s mouth, he watches, in a rapturous daze, Harvey’s throat moving as he gulps down Mike’s load.

Holy fucking shit that was...


It’s a weird feeling, Harvey slowly withdrawing his fingers from Mike’s body. What must he look like to Harvey right now? Half naked and glistening with sweat, spread out on Harvey’s couch, fighting to catch his breath, completely dazed from the magnificent orgasm he just had that was entirely Harvey’s doing.

“You should lose bets to me more often,” Mike pants.

Harvey grins. “You liked that?”

“Uh, yeah. I liked that. A lot. Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Now get out. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harvey stands up and walks off towards the kitchen. Mike looks over and sees him pick up his beer from the counter and take a hefty swig. Probably in an attempt to eradicate the taste of jizz from his mouth, which Mike thinks is fair enough. Mike gets dressed again and joins Harvey in the kitchen, wetting his mouth with a few more sips of beer and then putting on his jacket.

As he begins to walk away he motions towards the exit. “I’ll just see myself out.”

“G’night,” Harvey says.

“Night,” Mike replies, his smile so wide his cheeks ache.

He spends the taxi ride home concocting various plans involving wagers that Harvey can lose. Although Mike’d be happy to lose a few too, so long as he’s amenable to the stakes. He’d happily lose a bet if it means doing for Harvey what Harvey just did for him. Or, say for instance, if it means that Harvey gets to do whatever the fuck he wants to Mike’s body.

This is the kind of gambling Mike can appreciate, because there are no real losers. And if there’s one thing Harvey’s taught him:

It’s good to be a winner.



Works inspired by this one: [Podfic] The Bet by Jinxy