Work Text:
1. The Race
The morning air in Central Park is fresh and crisp, smelling heavily of petrichor and wet asphalt from the torrential downpour that surprised New York City the night before. White and blue banners for the M.K. Foundation fly agitated in the wind, marking the starting grid of the annual charity 5K run their organization runs. Pearson Hardman’s most distinguished employees are present, several of them distributed around the starting point of the race. Jessica’s clear intent: have the firm not only be represented by the employees present but also win over the foundation’s billionaire board.
Jessica stands near the starting line, looking effortlessly elegant in a pristine dark purple designer tracksuit, sipping an espresso with no intention of actually running. Donna stands beside her, checking a clipboard and looking radiant in perfectly coordinated athletic wear, her characteristic ginger hair in a flowy ponytail. Her eyes track the dispersed employees of the firm behind her dark sunglasses.
Further down the path, Louis Litt is frantically leading a group of terrified first and second-year associates through an aggressive, deeply uncomfortable-looking hamstring stretch. Harold looks like he is on the verge of tears, his knees knocking together, his forehead already wet with sweat, while Kyle Durant is already at the front of the lot, smugly bouncing on his heels to show off his expensive running shoes. Rachel stands near the hydration station that was set up by one of the many sponsors that offer electrolytes and bottled water, her movements careful and demure while warming up effortlessly on her own.
And then there is Harvey, leaning casually against a wooden barricade near the starting line wearing sleek, dark running gear that makes him look less like a charity participant and more like a professional waiting for the whistle. He hasn't stretched once, his usual exercise in the gym early in the morning was enough for him to warm up. He is just waiting.
"Two minutes before we start!" the announcer’s voice booms over the PA system.
"Where is he?" Harvey mutters, his voice low and tight, though his eyes never leave the path leading from the park entrance.
Donna doesn't even look up from her clipboard. "He’s coming, Harvey. This is mandatory.” she says.
Harvey sends her a look that it’s too quick for her to properly assess.
Right on cue, a lanky figure comes sprinting through the crowds. Mike is a chaotic mess. His hair is still damp and sticking every which way, his old blue running shorts are slightly wrinkled and a little too short on him. He is frantically trying to pin his race bib to his shirt while running between the other attendees.
"I'm here! I'm here!" Mike yells, eyes momentarily trailing down towards his chest while cutting across the grass to reach the Pearson Hardman cluster.
But Mike, being Mike, while not looking down, steps on a mud-slicked patch of grass right at the edge of the road and with a dramatic yell, his legs slid out from under him. His legs go up in the air for a fraction of a second before he is landing with a heavy, wet thud right on his behind.
"Oh, for God's sake, Harold!" Louis barks automatically, before realizing who it is, a little taken aback. "Mike! Get up!"
Rachel immediately gasps, rushing over with a worried look. "Mike! Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?"
"Only my pride," Mike groans, rubbing his lower back as he lets Rachel grab his right arm. Louis, eager to keep the firm looking professional in front of the M.K. Foundation board, marches over and grabs Mike's left arm, hoisting him up with unexpected force.
"Look at you, you’re a disgrace to the firm's athletic aesthetic," Louis complains in a hiss, slapping some loose mud off Mike's shoulder while frantically looking around for any onlookers. "Come on, check your joints. Move your legs."
As Mike shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clear distaste on his features at having Louis touching him so freely, his running shorts ride up even more over his pale thighs.
Louis gives him a once over to look for bruises and his eyes catch something that makes him gasp. Dark, distinct, and apparently perfectly symmetric purple bruises are stamped into the pale skin of Mike’s thighs, four small round marks on the outside of each leg, and a deep bigger oval print on the inner part.
"Good god, Mike, look at your legs!" Louis exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at the evidence. "You've got many hematomas on your legs! What happened to you?”
Mike freezes, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes look down first, at the bruises on his legs, then up, widen in panic. "Uh. The... the subway stairs. I fell." He mumbles, trying to move away from Louis’s scrutiny.
Rachel glances down at the marks, her eyes widening in sudden, sharp realization. Her gaze snaps up at Mike's blushing face, wonderment blooming in her eyes. When Mike turns sheepish towards her, she quickly clears her throat, looking intensely at her sneakers, teeth clamping down on her lip to avoid letting out a giggle.
Some distance away, Jessica takes a slow, deliberate sip of her espresso, her eyebrows arching with amusement at Louis’s antics, not quite catching the fuzz but entertained, nonetheless. Donna doesn't even look up from her clipboard, but a smirk spreads across her lips.
"It looks very bad!" Louis continues, obliviously, pressing a hand to his own hip in sympathy. "You shouldn't run on those, Mike."
"Louis," a voice cuts through the air.
It sounds clipped and annoyed.
Harvey walks over slowly, his stride deliberate. He stops just two feet away, ignoring Louis entirely, even though he just addressed him moments before. His jaw is set, and his sight lands directly on Mike. His eyes rake deliberately down to the bruises on Mike's thighs, a silent, obvious reminder of exactly how Mike had been pinned to the mattress the night before, breathless and begging, while Harvey held him down, spread open.
++++
The air in Harvey's apartment was thick with the tension radiating from both Harvey and Mike. It had built up over the course of the workday. Heated glances were sent here and there, intentional touches leaving scorching trails on the skin of their hands when they exchanged documents or shared a pen. It had all built up enough to snap the moment they crossed the threshold of Harvey’s apartment— a bruising kiss and a gasp of relief escaping almost instantly from them both, while their hands traveled along the other’s body like they had done several times before. This dance was one they were familiar with, and yet, they were not tired of repeating it again and again.
The kiss was wet and bruising, all teeth and desperate breath, but never parting. With blind luck, they made it past the door to Harvey’s bedroom until they could finally lay on the king-sized bed, the sheets unmade just as they had left them that same morning. Harvey moved with a predator's grace, his body a hard line of intent as he guided Mike down onto the mattress. His mouth moved from Mike’s lips toward his neck and downward, his hands divesting Mike off his clothes as fast as he could.
Mike’s trembling fingers did the same with Harvey’s waistcoat, nervously missing the buttons a few times while he panted to the rhythm of Harvey’s tongue on his skin. His legs hugged Harvey’s waist hard when a particularly harsh bite was left on his right nipple, the soft wetness of Harvey’s tongue quickly soothing the sting. He couldn’t help but groan in distress, having a hard time getting rid of Harvey’s shirt when the man was sliding down his body to mark it all over.
“Easy there. Don’t rush,” Harvey whispered, stopping for a moment to stare up at Mike with a smirk, his fingers lightly caressing Mike’s sides.
Mike groaned. “Come on, please,” he begged, already over the limit. He had been hard the whole day and just wanted some release.
Harvey looked amused but complied; the hard erection he was sporting told Mike that Harvey was feeling exactly the same way, even if he pretended better. In a rush, Mike sat up and stole a deep kiss from Harvey, smiling for a moment when Harvey’s hands enclosed his face with tender care. After a while they parted, gasping into each other’s mouths as they tried to catch their breath, their eyes finding each other’s and making Mike’s face heat up. He still couldn’t get used to the intensity in Harvey’s eyes when he looked at him. It made him want to melt.
“What are you waiting for?” Mike asked, trying to get them back on track and dispel his embarrassment.
Harvey only smiled in response, then started undressing himself. Mike followed quickly after, removing his tie and the shirt that Harvey had unbuttoned for him, then shimmying out of his pants and underwear. Of course, Harvey had to stand from the bed to hang his suit and fold his shirt—the absolute psycho. Mike rolled his eyes at the older man but continued his undressing, removing his socks and throwing them haphazardly over the bed. He turned and dug out the bottle of lube from under the pillow, where they had left it that morning.
Just when Harvey returned to bed and climbed into it completely naked, his hard cock bouncing slightly against his lower stomach, Mike looked at him with a wicked smile. He spread his legs, laying down and immediately shoved two wet fingers into his hole to start stretching himself, a keen moan escaping him at the familiar feeling. Harvey sent him a dark look and crawled towards him, his eyes staring hungrily at the motions of Mike’s hand between his legs. Without hesitation, Harvey used the lube on his own fingers and joined Mike in the fun of stretching him, getting an extra two in there.
Mike’s head snapped back at the fullness, his legs spreading wider and his hips moving downward to get the fingers deeper.
“You take four fingers so well, look at you. Can’t wait to be inside,” Harvey said, his voice hoarse with arousal.
Mike nodded, groaning when Harvey’s fingers pushed even deeper. “Harvey, I need you,” Mike grunted, his eyes opening and looking at Harvey with so much naked want and lust that the man couldn’t deny him. “Please fuck me now.”
Simultaneously, as if attuned to each other, both of them removed their fingers. Harvey quickly took his place between Mike’s legs, grabbing them harshly from under his thighs, raising them high into the air, and spreading them wide at the same time he slid his leaking dick into Mike’s wet, loose hole. It was still tight enough to almost make Harvey come right then and there; a full-body shudder went down his spine, and groans and curses spilled from his lips. His body stood taut, waiting for the furrow between Mike’s eyebrows to dissipate and his jaw to slack in pleasure.
Harvey was so in sync that as soon as Mike clenched slightly and whined, almost too quietly to be heard, Harvey snapped his hips even deeper. His fingers dug harshly into the supple flesh of Mike’s pale thighs as he started a hard, fast rhythm with his hips that only made Mike moan and babble incoherently with every thrust. There was no hesitation, only a raw and consuming need that Harvey had to satiate. The way Mike thrashed his head around and clenched his hands tight against the sheets told Harvey that he was just as consumed by pleasure.
With a low growl, Harvey increased the speed, his grip tightening the closer he felt to coming. The heavenly sight of Mike undone under him—his face, neck, and chest all flushed a deep red, with tear-streaked eyes and cherry-bitten lips—was something Harvey couldn't possibly look away from.
Mike was moaning brokenly now, almost sobbing. Harvey’s name fell from his lips like a mantra, his chest heaving up and down with erratic breaths. Harvey’s punishing rhythm only increased, the thrusts deepening. His focus was absolute, his gaze locked on Mike’s face, watching every flicker of pleasure and pain. He drove into him hard, a relentless force that left no room for thought, only feeling. The slick, wet sound of their bodies meeting was thunderous in the otherwise quiet bedroom, punctuating Mike’s ragged moans and whimpers.
For Mike, it was completely overwhelming. The sight of Harvey above him, the strength in those hands holding him open, and the complete, utter possession in every thrust unmade him, taking him apart piece by piece. He felt the strain in his own muscles, the burn of the stretch, and the dizzying pleasure that built with every deep, punishing thrust. He was being so utterly claimed, a fact that made a shiver of pure bliss shake Mike, pushing him almost to the edge of his climax.
He was just thinking about how much he wanted to wrap a hand around his own dick to hurry it up, needing to come immediately, when Harvey’s intense thrusts increased even more in velocity and strength. The force almost knocked the air out of Mike’s lungs as his prostate was thoroughly abused with every hit, making his toes curl. Before he could even comprehend it, his dick was spurting messily onto his chest. His sight whitened at the edges and his body tensed all over as the peak of his pleasure barreled him toward orgasm with a definitive intensity.
His hole clenched tightly without his control, and soon after, he felt a warm rush filling his insides to the brim as Harvey’s come painted his walls. A low groan and a few curse words escaped Harvey, barely registering to Mike. Mike's ears rang loudly, and he could only process pure sensation: the way Harvey leaned forward, his body shaking, until his forehead was pressed against Mike’s, still holding him open and practically bending him in half.
Mike didn’t mind. He was used to it, and his body had just come down from the high, enough to be completely lax and pliable. Their breaths mingled, warm and intimate, each one basking in their own afterglow until they could finally gather themselves and open their eyes.
"Fuck, Mike," Harvey rasped between breaths, his eyes intense and his face flushed.
“I think you just did”, Mike blinked lazily up at him, a smile stretching his lips.
Harvey could only snort at the dumb joke.
With the utmost care, Harvey lowered Mike's legs back onto the bed, his hands hurrying to caress and massage Mike’s hips and lower back while his lips left fluttering kisses all over Mike’s face. Mike let himself be kissed and worshipped, appreciating the warmth of Harvey's hands on his hot skin.
“Mmm, Harvey,” Mike mumbled, moving just enough so he could wrap himself like a koala around the other man. His own mouth left a trail of soft kisses along Harvey’s temple and down toward his jaw, his fingers tingling but grasping like a lifeline around the broad shoulders he could never get enough of.
“Love you,” he said lastly, his eyes heavy and his body tired with exhaustion.
Harvey stared down at Mike, who was always so quick to fall asleep, and smiled at the beautiful sight he made. His hands moved carefully over Mike’s side, touching him as lightly as a feather over his hip and down toward his thigh. His eyes followed the trail in admiration until he caught sight of the blooming bruises on those creamy legs. A smirk spread across his lips, and Harvey hummed, deeply pleased.
++++
When Harvey looks back up, his smirk is microscopic, but full of himself.
"He's fine, Louis," Harvey says, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes boring into Mike’s flustered, wide ones. "Mike knows how to handle a little... rough terrain. Don't you, Mike?"
Mike swallows hard, his face turning a spectacular shade of crimson that has absolutely nothing to do with his fall in the mud. "Yeah. Yes. I’m ready to run."
"Good," Harvey murmurs, his gaze lingering just a second too long on Mike’s bitten lips before he turns back toward the starting line. "Then get in position. And try to stay on your feet this time."
With Harvey’s words, everyone decides to get in position as well, both Jessica and Donna staring from the sidelines while their people mingle amongst all the other participants that just want to do the race and are not related to the firm nor other similar corporations. As soon as the whistle is blown, quite loudly, everyone gets on track and the race begins.
Some instantly start running, others just trot moderately fast, not trying to finish first, just complete the 5K. The lawyers, associates and paralegals present from Pearson Hardman all give their best, as per Jessica’s request to make the firm look good. Some do it better than others. Harvey, used as he is to his morning runs, doesn’t have any issues in keeping a good fast pace. Mike, although not exactly a running person, does his best to keep up with him. His body has stamina thanks to the bike he uses almost daily, but the heaviness and impact on his joints may come later to bite him in the ass.
Louis is used to a fast-paced walk but makes the associates keep a good enough velocity with him at the head. Rachel goes with him, used already to his antics and acting as buffer when Louis gets a little too exalted in his motivational yells. Everyone keeps relatively together, except for Harvey and Mike, that barely 20 or so minutes later are already crossing the finish line. They are received by the event people with a medal, a bottle of water, a bottle of electrolyte and a bag with a banana and an orange. Harvey has barely broken a sweat after that run, and Mike, although not exactly winded, is starting to realize the growing stiffness in his legs and the pain in his knees and lower back.
Harvey’s hand comes to rest against Mike’s lower neck, softly massaging while he guides them back towards Jessica and waits for further instructions from her.
Mike is a little self-conscious but luckily Harvey drops his hand just when they reach both Jessica and Donna, immediately getting in lawyer mode and discussing the best approach to getting close to the board of the M.K. Foundation. Mike finds a nearby bench and takes a careful seat, drinking his water slowly while munching on his banana.
It’s not long after the rest of the employees reach them, all in various degrees of tiredness and fatigue. Louis is complaining loudly about his finishing time, yelling at the associates and telling them it’s their fault he had such poor timing. Rachel smiles next to him, clearly amused and trying not to laugh at him.
After sitting down on the stiff bench for a while, Mike starts grimacing uncomfortable, the more time passes, the more he can’t find a good position to be on.
Harvey immediately notices, and with amusement, asks him “Legs bothering you?"
Mike narrows his eyes. "I’m only human." He murmurs.
Jessica glances at him, an eyebrow quirking in question. "You finished with a respectable time." She highlights, sounding a little bit proud if Mike were to guess.
"Yeah," Mike says with a sigh. "And now every step hurts." He slides his hands up and down his thighs, pulling down on his shorts whenever they ride up enough to show the bruises everyone scrutinized earlier.
Harvey hums. "Maybe because you haven't run in years."
Mike looks at him with purse lips. Harvey looks right back at him, eyes glinting, visible smirk barely stretching his lips. Neither blink.
"Pretty sure that's not the only reason." He says, snappish, eyebrows rising accusing.
Harvey's mouth twitches. "Oh, really?"
Mike kicks him lightly, lips trembling with the effort not to smile.
Unfortunately, that only makes his thighs protest harder.
He sighs resigned. He didn’t even stretch, deciding to sleep until the very last minute after Harvey made him come with an amazing blowjob that morning and then left him in a dazed heap while he moved like a functioning human being and got ready for the race, hence why Mike had gotten there barely on time and with the shittiest pair of shorts he could find at his place after rushing in the morning traffic.
He should definitively get more clothes to Harvey’s place. It was getting annoying to move between the two places every time.
He is suddenly shaken from his thoughts by the heavy way Louis lets himself down on the bench, right next to him, oblivious to the heated gazes being shared between Mike and Harvey.
Louis is far too consumed by his own physical grievances. "You think your legs hurt, Mike?" Louis scoffs, dramatically pressing a hand to his lower back. "Try pacing a herd of snail-like associates. My lumbar is practically screaming, and my calves are locked up tighter than a Swiss bank account."
"I'm sure it's awful, Louis," Mike murmurs, trying to shift his weight on the hard wood without wincing, a little away from the other man.
"It is!" Louis insists, leaning in with narrow, critical eyes. "But frankly, your form out there was atrocious. I saw your stride when you passed me at the two-kilometer mark. You were completely unbalanced, leaning forward and practically trembling. Your lower core has zero stability."
"You are so right, Louis. Mike almost limped his way to the finish line." Donna chimes in. She doesn't look up from her phone, but the corner of her mouth tucks into a highly amused smirk.
"Exactly!" Louis claps his hands, pointing at Donna. "How can you ride your bike with no issues but you can’t even run straight in a correct form."
Mike chokes slightly on his water, coughing into his fist as his face flushes a spectacular shade of pink.
Harvey turns towards the conversation, already finished strategizing with Jessica, so he steps smoothly into Mike's space, reaching down to take the half-eaten banana from Mike’s hand with an air of casual authority. "He just needs to learn how to pace himself," Harvey says, his deep voice smooth, though his dark eyes lock onto Mike with a heavy, teasing intensity. "He likes to push too hard, too fast, right from the beginning. Then he gets pinned down by the consequences."
"I don't push too hard," Mike grumbles under his breath, glaring up at Harvey through his eyelashes, watching him finish his half-eaten banana. His lips twitch. "Some people just don't know how to give a proper warning before they start driving the pace."
"Please," Harvey scoffs softly, tossing the banana peel into a nearby trash can. "I gave you plenty of advance notice."
Jessica simply looks between the two of them, taking a slow, elegant sip of her water, coffee already finished with. Her expression is perfectly unreadable, save for the slight, amused arch of her left eyebrow. "Well, whatever the reason for your... exertion, Mike, your exceptional timing and team effort with Harvey surely left a lasting impression with the M.K. Foundation," she says smoothly. "Just make sure you're fully recovered by Monday morning. I need my team flexible."
"Don't worry, Jessica," Harvey murmurs, his hand briefly brushing against Mike’s shoulder—a touch that is light, deliberate, and entirely possessive. "Mike is the most flexible person I know. I'll also make sure he gets plenty of rest. I'll even drive him home, so he doesn't have to use his legs."
"Now that is teamwork," Louis says proudly.
Donna stares with clear amusement towards Harvey.
++++
2. The Hotel room
The same sudden rain from the marathon weekend had given way to a thick fog by Thursday evening, grounding flights and turning traffic into a hazard. The client meeting with the manufacturing conglomerate had dragged on until nearly midnight, leaving the Pearson Hardman team exhausted and stranded.
"Unbelievable," Louis mutters, slamming his briefcase onto the polished marble counter of the luxury hotel lobby. "A four-billion-dollar acquisition, and they don't even have the decency to conclude negotiations before the witching hour. My circadian rhythm is entirely compromised."
"Calm down, Louis. We got the signatures," Harvey says placating, not looking up from his phone as his fingers fly across the screen. He looks entirely unaffected by the hour, his suit still immaculately pressed.
Katrina Bennett stands a step back, her expression cool and professional despite the late hour. "The front desk confirmed they only have three keys left, Louis. Given the storm, we’re lucky to get those."
The concierge appears from a side room and offers a polite, strained smile. "I apologize for the inconvenience, everyone. Due to the weather, we have exactly two standard deluxe rooms available, and our final Executive King Suite."
The four of them looked simultaneously at the offered keys, understanding immediately that however picks the Suite, will have to share.
Katrina immediately steps forward, taking one of the standard deluxe keys. "As senior associate who actually caught the compliance error in section four, I’m taking the first deluxe for myself."
"And I am a senior partner," Louis declares, snatching the second standard deluxe key with a look of supreme triumph. "Which means I am entitled to sleep without the existential dread of sharing oxygen with a subordinate." He pauses, looking at the remaining golden keycard on the counter, then glares at Harvey and Mike. "Which leaves the suite for you two. Try not to get at each other’s throats."
"No need to worry," Harvey replies, finally pocketing his phone and plucking the suite key from the counter. "Go count your plush towels and get some sleep."
As they head towards the elevators, Harvey subtly slows his pace, letting Katrina and Louis board the elevator ahead of them. He catches Mike’s eye, a low, knowing smirk touching his lips as Mike tries—and fails—to suppress an exhausted but intensely eager smile.
Twenty minutes later – both already settled in the Suite – Harvey is pacing the length of the massive, mahogany-accented living room, the open curtains barely able to show the darken night, the thick fog making it seem like there is nothing outside but rain and a dense curtain covering everything.
Harvey has already discarded his suit jacket and unbuttoned his collar; the phone is pressed to his ear while he removes his cufflinks and undoes his tie.
"Yes, Jessica. The board signed off on the liability waivers," Harvey says into the receiver, his voice dropping into its smooth, late-night register. "No, we aren't driving back with this shitty visibility. We're holed up at a Hotel."
On the massive king-sized bed, Mike is already half-undressed, pulling his socks off and tossing them onto the nearby armchair where his tie, shirt and suit jacket are draped over already. He hears Harvey pace in the next room, then watches him get into the bedroom, his eyes dark with an unvoiced invitation, shirt unbutton and open slacks.
"Louis?" Harvey chuckles quietly, glancing at Mike as Mike unzips his own slacks. "Louis has his panties on a twist due to the late hour and the savagery the client showed during the negotiations. With him in the adjacent room, I will be lucky if I don’t hear him put on his hypnotic relaxation audio that calls him a warrior of modern times. I'll see you in the office by ten, Jessica."
The moment Harvey disconnects the call and tosses the phone onto the nightstand, Mike is off the bed, wearing only his underwear now clearly tented with arousal. He closes the distance between them, his hands immediately finding the front of Harvey’s shirt, his breath hot against Harvey's mouth.
"The adjacent room?" Mike whispers against his lips, a wicked, teasing grin spreading across his face. "Should we be quiet then?"
Harvey’s hands grip Mike’s hips, fingers digging in with possessive, heavy pressure that promises an entire night of pure debauchery. "When have I ever cared about Louis?" Harvey murmurs, slamming his mouth down onto Mike's, effectively erasing any chance of a quiet night.
Mike’s hands slip under Harvey’s shirt and slide it off his shoulders, shivering slightly when Harvey’s hands move down his naked back, fingers teasing the skin under his underwear until he is grabbing the globes of his ass and squeezing tight, making Mike gasp and break the kiss, hands now moving to quickly push Harvey’s slacks down. While Harvey is busy stepping out of them, he pushes Mike towards the bed with a heated glare.
“Get on your hands and knees.” He rasps in a demanding tone, making Mike obey him immediately, his boxer briefs sliding easily down his legs before he climbs into the bed and gets in position, head dropping forward in anticipation. It’s not long before Harvey is pressing behind him, not wasting any time to shove his face between Mike’s ass cheeks and immediately thrusting his tongue inside the tight hole.
“Ah, fuck” groans Mike, taken by surprise but quickly spreading his legs wider and pushing his ass back against the pressure of Harvey’s tongue, enjoying the slickness and the way the soft muscle licks upwards along his taint then breaches him with slow shallow thrusts making his whole-body shudder.
Harvey is good at everything, so of course he is exceptionally good at eating ass, if anyone asks Mike.
After a moment, a finger joins the tongue, wiggling inside and brushing his prostate delicately, enough to make Mike give a keen moan and melt face first into the pillow below him. Blunt teeth scrape along one of his ass cheeks, then bite softly the flesh while a second finger joins the first.
Just when Mike is starting to move backwards to deepen the thrusts of Harvey’s fingers, Harvey retrieves them, making Mike whimper slightly.
“Always so desperate.” Mocks Harvey, lips kissing along his spine, all the way upwards until he can bite and kiss his nape and shoulders. Mike rises slightly on his elbows, turns momentarily to catch Harvey’s eyes and stares, pupils blown wide, the blue of his eyes almost lost because of it.
“You know you are too good at rimming.” He says in a hoarse whisper, body trembling slightly, trying to swallow some saliva although his throat is dry. Harvey stares, smirk widening. “Don’t let that get to your head.” Adds Mike in a rush. Harvey ignores him, biting the lobe of his ear while his thumb presses softly inside Mike’s hole, testing the looseness. Mike curses lowly, ass clenching in reflex, fingers digging hard into the sheets.
Harvey pulls his thumb back with a wet pop, his chuckle vibrating directly against Mike’s ear. He then slathers the stretched hole with something cold and slippery that Mike imagines is lube, although he isn’t sure where it came from, and a shudder goes down his back with the constant teasing of Harvey’s fingers inside and around his sensitive rim, the muscle contracting every time in anticipation. Harvey deems Mike stretched and ready enough after some time, so he grips his hips, the wet fingers digging into the flesh with a heavy, unyielding pressure that anchors Mike even more against the mattress and lets his breath caress Mike’s ear before straightening all the way.
"If you keep clenching like that, we're going to be here all night," Harvey murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that sends a shiver straight down Mike's spine. He presses his heavy, leaking length right against Mike's soaking entrance, letting him feel the exact size of what is about to breach him. "Open up for me, Mike. You know you can take it, and God knows you’ve been begging for it all day."
Mike lets out a breathless, fractured gasp, his head dropping forward as his hips shift instinctively, seeking that fullness. "Harvey, just... shut up and fuck me."
Harvey’s smirk disappears, replaced by an intense focus. " Let's see how long you can last."
With a slow, deliberate surge of his hips, Harvey drives completely inside, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, ruthless motion. Mike’s eyes fly open, his mouth parting in a silent scream of pure pleasure as his walls tightly grip Harvey, locking them together. Harvey stands taut above him for a fraction of a second, letting out a low, ragged growl as he waits for Mike to adjust, before one of his hands slide down to push down on Mike’s spine to keep him bend in place, and he begins a hard, punishing rhythm that completely shatters the quiet of the room.
Although the room looks exceptional, and it has everything you would imagine a suite would have, the bed isn’t exactly the sturdiest there is, so of course it is no surprise that as soon as Harvey picks up a rhythm, the headboard starts banging continuously against the wall. If they had more decorum, they would have move the bed some inches away from the wall, or placed some towels behind the hardwood headboard, but with Louis as their neighbor and the opportunity to annoy the man at their fingertips, they haven’t bothered at all.
And so, Harvey doesn’t contain himself at all, snapping his hips fast and hard in short but deep thrusts, grinding down against the spot he has memorized by now, occasionally missing it on purpose just to mess with Mike. The force behind his movements is such that Mike has to push against the headboard else he ends up face planted against it.
“Fuck, Harvey” whines Mike in a trembling voice, back arching and muscles clenching deliciously around Harvey’s cock.
“What? Close already?” asks Harvey, a little out of breath himself.
“So close.” Gasps Mike.
“Hmm, we just got started.”
Mike wheezes, what is supposed to be a laugh and a groan but doesn’t sound like either. His tongue comes out to lick his chapped lips, eyes fluttering open and close while he tries to focus his brain on what Harvey just said.
It’s a hard feat, even more so when he is chasing his orgasm with everything he has, hole clamping down hard every time Harvey fucks him deep.
Harvey’s jaw clenches hard the more Mike’s hole constricts around him, but he isn’t ready to be done just yet, so he slows down and takes a deep breath, his hands sliding softly along Mike’s ass to spread the cheeks slightly, enjoying the view of his member disappearing into the tight grip of Mike’s sphincter.
“Pervert.” Mumbles Mike, when he turns slightly and catches him staring, not at all disturbed by the change of pace, already used to Harvey’s annoying shenanigans.
"You say 'pervert,' I say 'appreciative,'" Harvey murmurs, a dark, wicked smirk flashing across his face. He gives a sharp push of his hips, deliberately hitting Mike's prostate just to watch him twitch. "Don't complain now that you have my full attention."
“Never.” Gasps Mike, eyes closing at the shudder of pleasure that wracks his body.
Harvey smirks, content with the response, and increases his tempo appreciatively, the noise of the banging headboard and the slapping of skin increasing with it.
“Let me show you, how appreciative I am of you then.” Whispers Harvey.
And if they spend the whole night and good part of the early morning showing each other just that, who can complain?
++++
The next morning, the hotel breakfast buffet is quiet, save for the soft clinking of silver against fine china, and the low murmur of working businessmen. Katrina is already seated, sipping a black coffee and reviewing the signed contracts on her tablet.
Harvey and Mike arrive together, swiftly making the line to grab their breakfast and joining Katrina on the table. Harvey looks entirely refreshed, a faint, satisfied shadow in his eyes as he pulls out a chair. Mike, however, moves with a very distinct, slow caution, his posture slightly stiff as he carefully slides into his seat, immediately reaching for his mug of coffee.
A moment later, Louis stomps into the dining area. He looks completely disheveled, his eyes bloodshot and his tie slightly askew. He drops into the chair next to Katrina with a heavy, theatrical sigh.
"Good morning, Louis," Katrina says without looking up. "You look terrible."
"Terrible? Katrina, I am in zombie mode," Louis hisses, slamming his hand on the table. "I have never experienced such an egregious lack of respect in my entire professional life."
"What happened, Louis? Sheets not up to your specific thread-count requirements?" Harvey asks, his voice dripping with smooth, completely innocent amusement as he bits a piece of toast.
"No, Harvey, it wasn't the sheets," Louis snaps, leaning forward aggressively. "It was the occupants of the room next to mine. I swear to you, from midnight until practically four in the morning, it sounded like an absolute construction zone."
Mike freezes mid-sip, his mug hovering just an inch from his lips. He carefully sets it down, his face flushing a rapid, deep pink as he looks intensely at his plate of scrambled eggs.
"A construction zone?" Katrina repeats, finally looking up, mildly intrigued.
"Yes! I don't know what kind of degenerate savages they let into the deluxe suites these days," Louis groans, rubbing his temples. "It was rhythmic. Constant. Just hours of this heavy, violent slamming. I honestly think someone was repeatedly snapping heavy wooden dresser drawers open and close. Over and over again! During most of the night! Who does that?!"
Harvey doesn't blink. He takes a slow, deliberate sip of his own coffee, his dark eyes shifting smoothly over to Mike. The smirk on Harvey's face is barely visible, but his eyes are completely heated and full of mirth, tracking the way Mike is currently biting his lower lip to keep from making a sound.
"I don’t think you heard that right, Louis," Harvey offers dismissively, his voice dropping into a teasing timber. "Who could possibly be banging furniture in the middle of the night?"
"That’s what I want to know! It was an assault on my eardrums!" Louis throws his hands up.
Mike lets out a sharp, choked cough, abruptly grabbing his napkin and covering his mouth as his shoulders shake, a smile almost breaking free at the absurdity of Louis’s rant.
"You okay there, Mike?" Harvey asks, the picture of professional concern, though his hand briefly brushes against Mike's knee under the table—a firm, heavy squeeze that makes Mike stiffen instantly.
"Fine," Mike squeaks out behind the napkin, his eyes wide and watering as he stares at Harvey. "Just... food went down the wrong pipe."
“Well, take it easy, Mike," Louis chastises as he sends him a dirty look. "I’m the one that can barely eat after yesterday’s awful night-sleep. I’m sure in your shared suite, you had the best of accommodations. Count your blessings."
"Oh, I am, Louis," Mike murmurs, his eyes darting to Harvey's smug, devastating grin. "I definitively am."
++++
3. The spider bites
An urgent case has Mike seated at his desk a good part of the morning, buried deep in briefs and bylaws he has to proof for Harvey as soon as possible, but of course, when he thinks he will have some calm to just focus on Harvey’s tasks, Louis appears out of thin air ready to cause chaos for him.
"Mike!"
Louis’s voice pierces the buzzing noise of the bullpen like a siren. With a sigh, he removes his earphones. Before Mike can even address the man politely, Louis has already marched right into his cubicle space, dropping a thick manila folder directly over the document Mike is reading. His eyes follow the blue folder with distaste.
"I need you to drop everything and scrutinize this pro-bono filing for the Western Tenant Union," Louis demands, immediately stepping closer to him, practically breathing down his neck. He positions himself directly behind Mike’s chair, leaning over his shoulder to point at the paperwork. "The compliance deadline is in four hours, and if we miss it—"
Louis freezes mid-sentence. His eyes lock onto the back of Mike’s neck, just over the collar of his shirt.
"Good god, Mike," Louis says, his voice dropping into a tone of genuine, horrified fascination. He leans closer, his breath practically tickling Mike's ear. He snaps his head away in recoil at the hot breath fanning intimately over him. "What on earth is that on your neck? Is that a spider bite? Or a mutant mosquito?"
Mike stiffens instantly, his hand flying up to cover his neck, but it is too late. "Uh. It's nothing, Louis. Probably a bug bite. From the park."
"Nothing? It's deeply crimson and entirely swollen!" Louis chastises, leaning even closer and removing Mike’s hand to inspect it with keen interest. "It looks incredibly inflamed. If that was a brown recluse, necrosis could set in within hours. You need to get that checked out by a medical professional immediately. I am serious, Mike. The venomous fauna in Manhattan is not a laughing matter."
The bruise is right below the back of Mike’s neckline, too high to be covered by the neck of his shirt.
Just down the hallway, Rachel is exiting the break room, holding a fresh mug of coffee. Overhearing Louis’s frantic medical diagnosis, her expression shifts to one of genuine concern.
"What's wrong?" Rachel asks, stepping towards them, a worried frown pulling her eyebrows downwards. Louis very aggressively tilts Mike’s head and points to the half reddish half purplish mark on the back of his neck. "Look at this and tell me he should not go to get it check out."
Mike winces, trying to pull away, but Rachel stares with scrutiny. The moment her eyes find the distinct, deep red-purplish mark—flawlessly shaped by the burst blood vessels—her breath hitches. Her gaze lingers on the bruising, the undeniable shape of a hickey staring right back at her. Her eyes dart to Mike’s face, which is rapidly turning the exact same shade of crimson as the mark.
Rachel slowly leans back, nodding slightly to herself. She doesn’t say a word, but her eyebrows furrow even deeper, her lips flattening into a silent, deeply suspicious line.
"See? Look at her face, she's terrified for you!" Louis exclaims, entirely misinterpreting her silence.
"I'm fine!" Mike insists, his voice cracking slightly. Desperate for any excuse to escape the scrutiny, he grabs a stack of the proofed documents he was working on earlier, making sure to push away Louis’s folder. "I actually... I have to take these to Harvey right now. For the acquisition. Excuse me."
Mike scrambles out of his chair, clutching the folders tightly against his chest. He begins walking backward out of the cubicle, waving a dismissive hand at Louis. "Seriously, Louis, don't worry about it. It’s just an annoying bug. I’m completely fine, it doesn't even hurt—" Mike collides directly into a solid, unyielding chest coming around the corner of the other end of the halfway. The impact knocks him off a little off balance, but a pair of strong hands instantly clamp onto Mike’s upper arms, steadying him with a strong grip. Mike blinks, looking behind him and realizing he is staring directly at Harvey’s amused face.
Because of the closeness between them, Harvey’s mouth is positioned at the exact same level as the glaring, purple bruise on Mike’s neck. For a split second, Harvey’s dark eyes slide downward, staring directly at his own handiwork. A heavy, intensely satisfied shadow passes over Harvey's eyes, his jaw clenching slightly as he resists the urge to smirk right in front of the entire bullpen.
Rachel watches the collision from a few steps away, her eyes tracking the precise alignment of Harvey’s lips to the mark on Mike's neck. Her eyes narrow, a sudden question popping into her mind that she dismisses as ridiculous.
"Watch where you're going, Mike," Harvey murmurs smoothly, his deep voice carrying that familiar, commanding weight as he lets go of Mike’s shoulders and straightens his suit jacket.
"Harvey, thank god you're here," Louis says, stepping out of the cubicle and shaking his head. "You need to tell your associate to take better care of himself. He’s walking around the office with a highly toxic insect bite on him."
Harvey arches an eyebrow, his gaze shifting lazily to Louis, then back to Mike’s burning face. "Is that so?"
"Yes! It is completely swollen," Louis insists, crossing his arms. "I’m telling you, Harvey, he needs to take it seriously. I had a cousin who ignored a spider bite on his foot, and he ended up losing a toe. A literal toe, Harvey! Gone! Gangrene waits for no man."
Harvey takes a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes glinting with a silent amusement as he looks at Mike.
"Don't worry, Louis," Harvey says smoothly, his voice dropping into a dark, teasing timber that makes Mike’s stomach do a complete flip. "I'll make sure he keeps a very close eye on it. If it gets any more swollen, I'll personally ensure it gets the proper treatment."
Louis nods entirely satisfied. "Good. Because the firm cannot afford to lose an associate to arachnid negligence."
As Louis walks away, muttering to himself about antibiotics, Rachel stands by the cubicle, holding her coffee mug and staring at Harvey and Mike with an expression of pure, unadulterated suspicion.
Harvey completely ignores her, turning his back to walk toward his office. "My office, Mike. Bring the files." he commands, a small smirk finally breaking across his face.
"Right behind you," Mike squeaks out, shuffling after him as fast as his legs can carry him, a last panicked glance thrown over his shoulder towards Rachel.
++++
Later that day, after putting out many fires on the case that Mike worked almost all morning, he is finally taking a relaxing breath at his cubicle, drinking some red bull to keep him going some extra hours — since he still has quite some briefs to go over— completely disheveled and ready to call it a night at the office. Work can continue at his place. Or Harvey’s.
If Harvey were to see him though, he would probably berate him for his appearance, but Mike doesn’t care. He ran around like a headless chicken between the library, the file room and the partners floor to search for precedents, print bylaws and get signatures from both Jessica and Harvey while updating the later on his findings.
Excuse him if he had ended with two or three buttons undone, his tie completely missing and his hair a messy chaos that points in all directions.
“You should quit drinking that.”
Mike turns while drinking the last drop from his red bull can, covering his mouth when he burps slightly to himself, sheepish.
“Can’t, is the only thing that helps me keep going.” His empty can join the other three on the edge of his desk and he swivels on his chair to address Rachel, who has just entered his cubicle and is leaning against his desk.
“Though day?” she asks, sympathy scrawl all over her face.
Mike nods and sighs heavily, rising his arms to stretch a little and make his bones pop pleasantly.
“You have no idea.” He says, eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling.
Rachel snorts and kicks him with her heel, making him smile and look at her. He notices she already has her handbag over her shoulder and her coat in one arm. “Leaving already?”
She nods, smiling. “Definitively. I have a date.” She wiggles her eyebrows and Mike laughs.
“Lucky you.”
“You are staying some more?”
“Hell nah. I’m done here. I will take some files home and continue there though.”
Rachel nods and pats his shoulder. “Don’t over do it.” She says with a smile on her face that suddenly freezes when she notices the faint bruises peppering Mike’s upper chest. Several of them littered the smooth white skin, some already faded, others completely new. She is sure that if Mike were to unbutton his shirt, more bruises would be covering the whole expanse of his torso.
All quite similar to the one she had seen that morning on his neck.
“What is it?” asks Mike, a little confused at the weird face she suddenly started doing.
She bites her lip, trying not to react, but there is clear amusement on her face. Also, she can’t quite contain the comment she had wanted to make earlier but had refrain due to Louis’s presence.
“Seems like you got a bigger problem than mosquitoes and spiders.” She says, standing fluidly from the desk and walking away with a big grin, turning slightly only to catch the way Mike’s face almost burst in flames with the sudden rush of blood flushing his fair skin. She laughs out loud at him and waves goodbye, letting him splutter to himself while buttoning his shirt.
++++
4. The clothes
After Mike had mentioned to Harvey some days ago that it was too tiresome to come and go in the night or morning from his place to Harvey’s to get ready for work, the older man suggested that he either brough spare suits or used his own. It had seemed simple enough, and honestly, quite a big deal, but Mike kept that to himself.
Not wanting to abuse Harvey’s trust in him and using his stuff outright, he decided to just move some of his clothes to the guest room in Harvey’s condo and always tried to have on the forefront of his mind how many he had available and how many were at the dry cleaners.
A couple of days later, just when he is about to leave Harvey’s condo and get to work — the older man having left earlier for a partner meeting — he trips on the way to the kitchens sink and spills his left-over coffee on his clothes, making him groan in annoyance.
No problem, he thinks. He is still quite early so he can change and get to work just in time to check in with Harvey on the merger they are handling. Color him surprised when he notices there are no more suits in the closet of his room and he then remembers that yeah, they are supposed to get their clean suits at 3PM that day so the dirty one he is currently wearing was the last he had available. With a sigh, he decides to make use of Harvey’s suggestion and choose one of the most inconspicuous suits Harvey has – meaning: no 3-piece –. He grabs a deep blue one that looks amazing and he had always looked at from afar with awe. He changes his usual white shirt for a light blue one to match it, and since he is already cracking Harvey’s wardrobe, chooses a tie as well, selecting a dark blue one with silver stripes.
A last look in the mirror confirms he looks amazing, even if the suit jacket drapes a little big on his shoulders, and the slacks fall loosely over his legs. Nobody will notice, surely.
With the intention to give the proper respect to the clothes, he takes a cab to work, not wanting to wrinkle the suit by cycling there, lest Harvey berate him like that one time he had liberally used the spare suit the older man kept at the office.
He gets an ego boost when a few faces turn in his direction once he gets to Pearson Hardman, because of course everyone notices the change from 100-dollar suits to one that is worth a couple of thousands of dollars.
Checking his watch, he hurries to his cubicle to quickly check his emails before grabbing the files he needs to review with Harvey and slipping away from his desk to make his way to Harvey’s office.
Donna looks up when he gets close enough to perch on the wall of her cubicle and sends him a smile, blinking several times once she notices his outfit.
“Look at you puppy, you cleaned up good.” She praises, and he preens at the compliment shrugging nonchalantly.
“This old thing?” he dismisses playfully. Donna raises an amused eyebrow at him and places her chin on her stapled fingers, focusing entirely on Mike now.
“That’s a Tom Ford Sharkskin O’Connor in navy blue.” She says, head tilting menacingly. Mike swallows, unaware that clothes talk is such an important topic for Donna. “It’s worth more than 5-grand by the way. Since it’s obviously tailored to size.” She stares hard at him. “Not yours, obviously.” She adds.
Now Mike feels like sweating bullets.
“Right. And here I am, thinking I've made a choice that exempts me from the fashion industry.” He gulps and tries to look cute so Donna doesn’t chew him up.
She smirks, getting his reference. “Any reason why you are wearing Harvey’s suit?” she does a once over of him, humming to herself. “And tie.” She adds. Of course she recognizes that as well.
“Erm, well. I kinda spilled coffee on mine so…”
Realization colors her face and she nods. “Right. The puppy is always making a mess.” He rolls his eyes now, offended by that comment but doesn’t say anything. “Harvey is still in his partner meeting, but he told me to let you know there is an assortment of documents you need to get from the file room before he gets here.” She hands him a post it note with the name of the files.
Now that makes Mike perk up and so he thanks Donna and turns around, quickly making his way to the file room to get what he needs.
It takes him a while, some boxes and files spread around the room, Katrina standing amongst the mess while she sorts a box of documents. She doesn’t acknowledge his arrival so he just clears his throat and side-steps everything, making a beeline for the place where his files are most likely located.
Just when he is gathering everything he needs, he hears a hum of approval and turns to catch Katrina looking in his direction with attentive eyes.
"Well," Katrina says, her voice dripping with icy amusement. "Look who finally discovered a tailor. I must say, Mike, I’m thoroughly impressed."
Mike blinks at her, taken aback by the compliment. Insult? "You... you are?"
"Of course," she nods, stepping closer. "I was beginning to think you bought your wardrobe in bulk from a discount warehouse. It’s about time you realized that if you want to sit at the adults' table, you have to stop dressing like a public defender."
"Right. The public defender look," Mike stammers, his eyes darting to the door.
"It’s good that you’re finally trying to get on Harvey’s level," Katrina continues, offering a tight, patronizing nod as she adjusts her folders neatly inside a box. "Though, choosing his exact color palette is a bit... desperate. Don't worry, I won't tell him you're downright copying him. But do try to carry yourself with a bit more dignity if you're going to wear something that costs more than your monthly rent."
With one last pitying look, she turns her attention back to her work.
Mike lets out a breath of disbelief. She thinks I'm copying him, he realizes, a hysterical laugh almost bubbling up in his chest. She thinks I bought this to impress him.
Clutching all the documents he gathered, Mike finally leaves the file room and makes his way again towards Harvey’s office.
As he passes the first row of cubicles, an associate named Jimmy looks up from his monitor, whistling loudly. "Whoa, look at Ross! Did you finally get a credit card with a limit higher than three digits? Nice threads, man."
"Uh, thanks, " Mike mutters, quickening his pace.
"Can you be more obvious Mike?” another associate chimes in, laughing. "Harvey might actually fire you on the spot if he catches you trying to match him."
Mike’s eyes climb up his hairline because.... Why do people think Harvey would even care? Well, at least none has actually figured out he is actually wearing Harvey’s clothes.
A win is a win.
He keeps his eyes glued to the glass doors of the executive wing, but as he nears the cubicles outside Harvey's office, Rachel steps out of a conference room. She stops, her eyes widening as she takes him in.
Oh, no, Mike thinks, his stomach suddenly dropping as if in a roller coaster. Rachel knows fashion. Rachel has been to my apartment. She’s going to notice.
"Mike," Rachel says, walking over to him, a soft, incredibly impressed smile on her face. She reaches out and lightly taps the lapel of the jacket. Mike holds his breath, praying his heart isn’t beating loud enough for her to hear. "Wow. You look amazing."
"Yeah?" Mike chokes out.
"Yes! I mean, it’s a little surreal because you look like a mini-Harvey clone, but honestly, it is such an improvement over your usual skinny ties." She leans in, lowering her voice playfully. "Is this your way of trying to butter him up? Because letting him think he’s completely infected your personal style is a pretty genius power move."
"Yeah, you know me. Total... power move," Mike says, offering a weak, trembling smile.
"Go get him, tiger," Rachel teases, patting his arm before walking away.
Mike stands outside Harvey’s glass door for a solid three seconds, for once Donna isn’t at her desk, so he can take a few breaths and run a hand over his face in incredulity.
They didn't notice. They all just thought he was a pathetic, sycophantic try-hard who was obsessed with his boss.
He pushes the door open and steps into the office, slamming it shut behind him.
Harvey is finally sitting at his desk, casually typing on his laptop. Without looking up, a slow, devastating smirk spreads across Harvey's face.
"Nice suit, kid," Harvey murmurs, his voice low and thoroughly amused. "Looks familiar."
"Shut up," Mike groans, dropping all the files he carries on the coffee table and burying his face in his hands. "All the associates are idiots, Katrina is a snob, and I am going to kill someone before lunch."
Now Harvey looks up, entertained by Mike’s words, an eyebrow cocking in silent question.
“They all think I’m so obsessed with you, and I’m trying to look like you.” Mike explains, a sigh deflating him while he sprawls on a chair in front of Harvey’s desk.
Harvey stares at him with a smirk, “Well, there was that one time you did started to style your hair like me.”
Mike rolls his eyes at him.
“Whatever dude, it’s not like you are the only one who looks good in a suit.” He mumbles in annoyance, his fingers playing with some papers sprawled on Harvey’s desk.
“Don’t call me dude.” says Harvey automatically, going back to typing on his laptop. Mike smiles to himself, amused that no matter how much time passes, Harvey will continue to tell him that. “You know when you look your best?” asks Harvey after some time, shutting his laptop with a soft click, finally looking up from his work. He leans back in his leather chair, his dark eyes sweeping over Mike with a slow, deliberate appreciation that makes the expensive navy fabric suddenly feel ten degrees hotter.
“Enlighten me.”
“When you are not wearing any clothes.” Answers Harvey in a low voice, eyes hooded with intense focus, as if he is just picturing it.
Mike can’t help the smile that breaks on his face, cheeks tinting up a light pink at the comment. "You're a menace. We're in your office."
"And you're wearing my clothes," Harvey reminds him, leaning forward. "Which means tonight, I get the pleasure of taking them off you." He whispers.
Now Mike’s face really does heat up an obvious red, eyes widening at the bold assurance.
“Really? I thought you would appreciate more the fact I’m wearing something nice for a change.” He deflects, clearing his throat and looking away from Harvey, hands suddenly sweating and eyes darting towards the crystal walls. Donna still isn’t back and no one seems to pay attention to them.
“First of, nice doesn’t cut it.” Harvey comments, standing up and walking towards his record collection. Mike stands as well, hands nervously pressing down on the suit jacket. With deliberate steps, he migrates towards the couch, his gaze not leaving Harvey at all, collar feeling a little stiff around his neck. “Second, although I do enjoy it when you dress like a proper lawyer, I like it more when there is nothing on you.”
The confession, although lighthearted, sounds heated, even more so when it’s accompanied by the soft jazz of the record Harvey chose and his sight focuses on Mike with predatory intent. Mike swallows and turns away, pretending to look at the paperwork neatly placed on the coffee table.
“Well then, lets finish this quickly so we can go home and you can get me off this suit.” He says in a normal tone, but knowing perfectly well the effect those words will have on Harvey.
++++
5. The emergency contact
The rain drums a steady, relentless beat against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Harvey’s penthouse. By the time Mike finally slots the key Harvey gave him some months ago, and opens the door, it is just past eight o'clock. He feels like he has been put through a meat grinder, chewed up, and spit back out.
The apartment is warm, smelling faintly of the expensive espresso Harvey brewed this morning and the comforting, familiar scent of Harvey himself. In the living room, the dim, amber lamp lighting casts a soft glow over Harvey, who sits on his leather couch, a glass of Macallan in one hand and a legal brief in the other. He looks pristine, effortlessly relaxed without his suit jacket, and entirely at home.
At the sound of Mike’s arrival, Harvey looks up, a soft, welcoming smile instantly replacing his focused expression. "Rough day?"
Mike doesn't say a word. He kicks off his damp dress shoes, letting them clatter against the hardwood with a heavy sigh. As he walks towards the couch, he carelessly shrugs out of his suit jacket, letting it drape on the armchair before his fingers tear frantically at the knot of his tie, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the floor.
He doesn't stop walking until he reaches the edge of the couch and without a word, Mike crawls straight into Harvey’s lap. He doesn’t care about being graceful or seeming clingy. He just needs to be close to Harvey.
Body moving on autopilot, he straddles Harvey’s thighs, burying his face directly into the crook of Harvey's neck and inhaling deeply his intoxicating smell. His arms wrap tight around Harvey’s shoulders, holding onto him like a lifeline, eyes closing in content.
Harvey lets out a low, amused chuckle, moving carefully to set his scotch down on the side table and the brief he was reading is thrown effortlessly on the coffee table, his arms now free coming up to wrap securely around Mike’s waist to pull the younger man flush against his chest.
"I missed you," Mike mumbles against Harvey’s warm skin, his voice muffled and thick with exhaustion. "And if you love me—if you have even an ounce of human compassion for me—please promise me you will never make me work with Louis again."
Harvey’s chest rumbles with laughter, taken aback at the dramatic words. One of his hands begins tracing soothing, slow circles up and down Mike’s rigid spine, while his other hand slides up to gently cup the back of Mike’s head, his fingers tangling in the soft curls at his hairline.
"What did he do this time?" Harvey asks, his tone laced with fond amusement.
"He made me audit twelve years of municipal tax records because he claimed there were inconsistencies brough to his attention by one of his clients," Mike whines, tilting his head up just enough to look at Harvey with wide, betrayed eyes. "He didn't even tell me what to look for, just that I should read it and then go over all the data with him. I spent like nine hours in the presence of Louis today."
"Terrible," Harvey murmurs, though the absolute smirk on his face betrays how funny he finds it. He leans forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Mike's temple. "A complete waste of your talents. I'll see if I can file a restraining order on your behalf tomorrow."
"Please do," Mike sighs, finally letting his eyes close as he melts completely into Harvey's hold, moving his mouth to chase after Harvey’s lips and sighing into the kiss once Harvey parts his mouth for him. The tension is finally beginning to leave his shoulders, the quiet warmth of the penthouse wrapping around him like a blanket. Harvey’s hands are tightly holding him by the ribs now, thumbs sliding teasingly over his nipples, the shirt Mike is wearing getting on the way for the friction to be truly enjoyed.
Mike is just starting to get into the mood for more, hips moving of their own accord against Harvey’s, his covered dick brushing deliciously against the covered cock that is getting just as hard inside Harvey’s pants.
BZZZZ.
The harsh, violent vibration of Mike’s phone inside his front pocket shatters the silence and makes him jump, dirty kiss breaking by the suddenness of it. Mike doesn't dare move. He freezes, his eyes widening in pure denial. "Tell me that wasn't my phone."
BZZZZ.
With a miserable groan, Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out the device. The caller ID displays a new text message from Louis.
Louis: Mike! There is a crossed research you need to complete to fully back up the findings we highlighted today. Get back to the office immediately!
"I want to die," Mike whispers, staring at the screen in horror, then shucks the phone towards the end of the couch. He lets his forehead drop back onto Harvey's shoulder with a dramatic thud. "I want the ground to swallow me whole. I'm going to jump off your balcony."
"The balcony is closed due to the bad weather," Harvey chuckles softly, though his touch turns infinitely more tender. He slides his hands up to frame Mike's face, gently forcing him to look up.
Harvey’s eyes are incredibly soft, filled with a quiet, understanding warmth that he only ever shows behind closed doors. He leans in, covering Mike’s lips with a deep, slow, reassuring kiss. It tastes like expensive scotch and unconditional safety. It is the kind of kiss that promises Mike that no matter how chaotic the office is, this— the two of them— is his sanctuary.
When Harvey pulls back, he gives Mike's chin a playful, gentle tug. "Go on. Get back there, fix whatever he wants you to fix, and come right back home."
Mike pouts, his lower lip literally trembling. "You're kicking me out? You're supposed to protect me."
"I am protecting you," Harvey smirks, his eyes dancing with secret delight. "By making sure you don't give Louis a reason to corner you for another whole day tomorrow."
What Harvey doesn't mention—and what he fully intends to keep to himself—is that he knows exactly why Mike is on this case. Jessica explicitly told Harvey earlier that morning that she needed Mike’s eidetic memory to cross-reference Louis's tax anomalies, but she knew Mike would fight it if it came from Harvey. So, she assigned it through Louis to keep Harvey's hands clean.
"Fine," Mike drags out the word, "But I’m not leaving until we have a quickie. I’m not sure I will be able to return home, from what Louis said in his message.”
Harvey raises an eyebrow at him, a little incredulous at the petition but definitively interested.
"Define 'quickie' for me.” Harvey snorts, hands sliding down towards Mike’s pants to unbuckle the belt. Mike is unbuttoning his own shirt and sliding it off his shoulders.
“Just, lower your pants, I’m gonna ride you.” Breathes Mike, already excited and stumbling to stand up so he can remove his slacks and underwear in one swift move. Harvey lets out a low, dark growl that sends a spike of arousal down Mike’s spine.
Harvey doesn’t need to be told twice. In one fluid, practiced motion, he unfastens his slacks and shoves them with his boxers down past his hips. At the sight of Harvey’s cock springing free, Mike doesn't waste a single second, his heart hammering against his ribs in a wild mix of adrenaline and desperate, needy arousal, he mounts Harvey, a hand reaching out to stroke Harvey’s cock in his hand once, twice, until the tip shines with a drop of pre-come. He uses that to slick the hard member and prays that he is loose enough from their morning fuck that he won’t regret what he does next. With urgency and care, he handles the dick in his hand firmly, lining himself up, and then sinks down onto it in a swift motion, a breathless gasp escaping his barely parted lips. Yeah no, he isn’t loose enough for this, but he really needed it and a little pain never hurt him before.
He immediately starts bouncing on Harvey’s cock, grunts of pleasure and pain escaping him every time.
"Jesus, Mike," Harvey groans, his hands instantly locking onto Mike’s hips to steady the frantic, uncoordinated pace the younger man starts.
The heat is overwhelming, the tightness mind-blowing.
Mike’s whole body goes lax in pleasure when a pretty well aimed thrust towards his prostate makes his toes curl deliciously, and he buries his face against Harvey’s shoulder, biting down on the expensive fabric of Harvey's vest to muffle a loud, high moan as he rolls his hips carefully. Harvey meets him stroke for stroke, his fingers digging bruising marks into Mike's skin, lifting him up and driving into him with a ruthless intensity that leaves them both completely breathless within minutes. It is messy, frantic, and entirely consuming but everything Mike needed at the moment. When Mike is close, his body tightening hard around Harvey's cock, Harvey kisses him savagely, their teeth clanking painfully but neither caring one bit. Mike has his arms so wound tight around Harvey’s neck he almost cuts his airflow, and then he comes, the shallow hard thrusts against his prostate enough to undo him, his dick messily spurting against Harvey’s pristine clothes. Harvey follows him with a low, ragged shudder, and spills inside Mike with a long drawl out groan. Mike whimpers slightly at the feel of Harvey’s come filling him up.
They breathe hard and heavy against each other for a few moments before the reality of the still buzzing phone next to them on the couch crashes into the afterglow.
"I have to go," Mike pants, wincing slightly when he pulls up, Harvey’s soft member slipping out with a wet pop, and then he is almost falling off Harvey's lap on weakened legs as he scrambles to find his underwear, grabbing some tissues to clean himself as best as he can and passing some to Harvey so he can do the same, although he will definitively need to send his clothes to the dry cleaners.
His legs are trembling so hard he nearly trips over his own pants, still a little out of breath.
Harvey is already pulling his clothes back into order, his usual unbothered composure returning with terrifying speed, though his eyes are still dark and heavy. "Take the town car. Don't even think about a cab in this weather." He orders, giving Mike a sweet kiss as goodbye by the door of the condo.
Twenty minutes later – thanks to Ray –, Mike is pushing through the glass doors of Pearson Hardman, looking reasonably put together but feeling entirely hollowed out. The bullpen is mostly dark, save for the flickering fluorescent lights near the back library.
When he walks over, he expects to find Louis pacing like a caged animal. Instead, he finds Rachel walking out of his office with clear relief coloring her features.
"Mike!" Rachel takes him by the arm and takes him towards her office. "Thank god. Louis dragged me into this an hour ago because he said he was in need of all possible help to sort this out."
"You don’t say," Mike grunts, following her without question and dropping his messenger bag onto the floor next to him. His body is already aching from the penthouse workout, and his brain feels like mush, but he forces a grateful smile. "Let's do this."
They unite forces, diving headfirst into the endless sea of numbers, but as the clock ticks past 2:00 AM, the sheer exhaustion catches up to them. Mike’s eyes are malfunctioning; the numbers are beginning to swim on the page, and Rachel is leaning heavily on her palm, her eyelids fluttering shut every few seconds.
He regrets not foreseeing the tiredness that was going to consume him and getting some red bull. The coffee from the break room barely helps at this point.
"We need the physical archives for the 2004 audit," Mike murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. "Come on, let’s go to the file room. The lights aren't as bright there."
They stumble into the dim, cool depths of the file room like two ghosts. The silence of the room is heavy, and the exhaustion makes everything feel slightly surreal. Mike wanders down the narrow aisle, tracking the labels on the high shelves with a glazed look.
"I think it's up here," Mike mumbles, reaching blindly up towards a high shelf for a heavy cardboard box.
His fingers catch the edge, but his reflexes are entirely shot from the late hour and the lack of sleep. He pulls, but he doesn’t notice the other smaller box on top of it. It slides forward violently and Mike, with his now subdue brain activity and slow reflexes, panics, trying to sidestep the falling avalanche of paper, but his heel catches on the metal lip of a footstool left in the aisle.
"Mike, watch out—!" Rachel cries out.
It happens in a split second. Mike loses his footing completely. He goes down hard, head colliding sharply with the shelf a few feet behind him, a resounding hollow thud breaking the quiet in the file room.
The world momentarily goes pitch black for Mike, and then bright stars shine behind his eyelids.
"Mike? Mike!" Rachel drops her folders, rushing forward and kneeling beside him in pure terror. He is completely dazed, his eyes barely open, a thin line of dark crimson already beginning to bead at the back of his head.
Panicking, her hands shaking violently, Rachel pulls out her phone and speed-dials, the only person she knows is still in the building. "Louis! Louis, please come to the file room right now! It's Mike, he's bleeding!"
Within ninety seconds, Louis bursts through the door, his face pale and eyes wide with frantic anxiety. Seeing Mike on the floor sends his nervous system into absolute overdrive.
"Oh my god, oh my god, what happened?" Louis stammers, his hands fluttering uselessly in the air.
"Louis, help me lift him!" Rachel pleads, her voice cracking with adrenaline and panic. "We need to get him to a hospital right now!"
Mike is babbling incoherently over Rachel’s worried words, still trying to get his bearings. “I’m fine.” He grunts, eyes clenching tight as his head pounds painfully.
Neither Louis nor Rachel address his barely stutter words, instead deciding to pull him up and drag him out, rushing straight into the torrential rain towards the nearest emergency room without a single word to anyone else.
++++
Rachel and Louis have been waiting maybe for an hour or so after they got a nurse to check on Mike; one of her first questions was regarding the emergency contact and they can’t quite hear exactly what Mike mumbles to her, making her nod and quickly requesting another nurse to make the call.
Rachel is still incredibly worried, so she finds herself currently pacing a tight circle on the linoleum, her fingers anxiously twisting the strap of her purse, while Louis sits rigidly in a plastic chair, bouncing his knee so hard his dress shoe clicks rhythmically against the floor. Every time the automatic doors hum open, they both snap their heads up, each new stranger making them think that’s the person that Mike requested to be there as his emergency contact.
The ER doors suddenly slide open with a heavy hiss and Harvey walks in wearing jeans, a dark henley and running shoes. His hair a complete mess, damp strands sticking to his forehead from the storm outside.
Both Rachel and Louis stare in awe at the sudden arrival of the older man, who doesn’t even stop at reception. His jaw is set in a hard line, and his posture is devoid of its usual casual arrogance. He scans the room with a quick, sharp intensity that bypasses the nurse’s desk entirely.
As soon as he spots Mike laying down in a gurney, a little bit out of it, he walks straight towards him.
That alone is a little odd. Harvey Specter is usually immaculate, every thread of his suit acting as an armor of untouchable coolness. Tonight he looks so normal and so not like the dominating senior partner that Harvey Specter usually represents, that it gives Rachel some whiplash. The concern etched into his face, doesn’t help his case.
"How is he?"
The question comes out before he even reaches them, his voice raw and lacking its signature velvet finish. His eyes are locked onto Mike’s pale face, completely ignoring Louis and Rachel as he closes the distance.
Rachel blinks, her hands dropping to her side as she takes in his disheveled appearance. "He's okay. Stable."
Harvey is already beside the bed, stepping right into Mike's personal space without an ounce of hesitation. He crouches slightly, bringing himself down to eye level with the mattress. His large hand instinctively hovers over the safety rail, his knuckles white.
"Mike." His voice softens, dropping an octave into a low, private tone.
Mike turns his head slowly, his eyelids heavy and purple-bruised with exhaustion, but a tiny, faint smirk hitches the corner of his mouth. "...Hey."
"You with me?" Harvey's eyes map every inch of Mike's face, tracking his pupils, his gaze lingering heavily on the rectangle bandage pressed against the back of Mike’s head.
Mike nods slowly. "Took you long enough," he murmurs, his voice a raspy whisper. He reaches out a trembling hand, his fingers blindly searching the scratchy hospital blanket until they find the hem of Harvey's damp sleeve. He tugs it once, weakly.
Harvey lets out a ragged breath that sounds suspiciously like relief, his shoulders visibly dropping two inches. He doesn't pull away from the touch; instead, his fingers twitch as if he wants to wrap his entire hand around Mike's, restraining himself only because Rachel and Louis are staring. "I got here as fast as possible."
Rachel stares, her eyes darting between Harvey’s messy hair and Mike’s hand still anchored to Harvey’s sleeve.
The nurse comes over, flipping open a plastic chart. Her eyes dancing between the three people now surrounding the bed. "Are you Mr. Specter? The emergency contact?" she asks, once she focuses on the newcomer.
Harvey snaps his head up, his corporate mask slipping back into place, though his eyes remain fiercely protective. "Yes."
"Good." She begins explaining the concussion protocol, gesturing with her pen.
Harvey doesn't interrupt once. His sharp attentive gaze shifts between the nurse and the monitor, his head nodding in tight, controlled movements. He just listens, his mind clearly cataloging every syllable.
Rachel notices something shifts in the room's dynamic. Harvey isn't asking what happened. He isn't demanding to know who was at fault or glaring at Louis for demanding Mike’s presence so late at night, which is exactly what a furious boss would do. He's asking what happens next.
"What medication has he been given?" Harvey asks, his tone clipped and professional.
"None for now, but we will prescribe something for the headache he’s got."
"CT?"
"Clear."
"Observation timelapse?"
"Every two to three hours."
He nods, easily handling the situation with practiced familiarity, as if managing Mike's physical well-being is a routine part of his life.
The nurse sighs, capping her pen and offering a sympathetic look to the exhausted young man on the bed. "Someone should keep an eye on him tonight. No alcohol or strenuous activity. Keep track of the pain meds and make sure he is responsive in every check-up."
Harvey nods, one hand finally closing over Mike’s forearm, a firm, grounding pressure that sends a visible wave of relaxation through Mike's tense frame. "I'll take care of that." He says without hesitation.
Just a flat statement of fact.
Rachel looks down at Mike, expecting him to protest, to whine about Harvey being a controlling control-freak, or to insist that he can take a cab back to his own apartment, but Mike doesn't even look surprised. His eyes are already half-closed, his head sinking deeper into the stiff hospital pillow as he lets out a soft, compliant sigh. He just nods, his fingers curling tighter into Harvey’s sleeve.
++++
The discharge process goes by in a blur of signed paperwork and clipped instructions, and Harvey handles it with his usual efficiency. Within twenty minutes, the nurse hands him over a plastic bottle of prescription pain management pills, which Harvey slides directly into his pocket without a word.
He doesn’t ask Mike if he can walk when they are about to head out, Harvey just steps right up to the side of the bed, slides an arm firmly around Mike’s waist, and hoists him up. Mike leans heavily into Harvey’s side, his head dropping right onto Harvey’s shoulder, completely unbothered by how close they are. Harvey grips him tightly by the hip, steering him towards the exit with careful ease.
Rachel and Louis fall behind, watching the pair recede down the bleached-white corridor of the emergency room.
Rachel stops near the sliding glass doors, her brow furrowing as she watches Harvey gently guide Mike into the back of a waiting town car, his large hand cupping the back of Mike's head, so he doesn't bump it against the door frame. The sheer level of unprompted physical care makes her chest feel full of warmth.
"Louis," Rachel says softly, her eyes still glued to the taillights of the car as it pulls away into the rain. "Don't you think that was... a little much?"
Louis is busy adjusting his damp tie, letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh.
"I mean Harvey," Rachel clarifies, turning to face him, her fingers nervously gripping the strap of her bag. "The way he arrived so fast, and he didn't question what happened, he just... took care of everything. Of Mike. Without a single argument from him. It felt weirdly intimate, didn't it?"
Louis lets out a loud, dismissive scoff, waving his hand in the air as if she’s just suggested something entirely absurd.
"Oh, please, Rachel. You are overanalyzing," Louis sniffs, crossing his arms and shaking his head with an air of absolute certainty. "Mike has no family, you know that; he lost his grandmother not long ago, so he is utterly alone. Harvey knows that if he lets his golden associate succumb to a head injury, his precious billable hours go right down the toilet. He has no choice but to look after the boy like a stray puppy he accidentally adopted."
Rachel blinks, looking back out at the empty driveway where the car had been just moments ago.
"An orphan..." she whispers quietly.
"Exactly," Louis says, checking his watch and grimacing. "Harvey is a control freak. If Mike dies on a bathroom floor because no one wakes him up every two hours, Harvey loses his favorite legal typewriter."
Rachel looks down at her shoes, letting out a slow, tentative breath. It still feels incredibly strange—the raw panic in Harvey's eyes didn't look like a man worried about his billable hours—but as she processes Louis's words, she forces herself to let it go. It makes sense, after all. Harvey is fiercely protective of his territory, and Mike is his most valuable asset.
"Yeah," Rachel murmurs, offering Louis a faint, exhausted nod. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
Then they each make their own way home, work forgotten for now.
++++
+1. No boundaries
Harvey, being the amazing boyfriend he is, takes care of Mike just like the nurse requested, setting alarms to wake Mike every 2 or so hours, checking on the level of his head pain, his alertness and overall making sure he is hydrated the whole time.
The next day, Mike is graciously given a sick day for him to recover from his concussion, and since Harvey can’t really take himself a day off just because – even if he too woke up every two hours –, he goes to work; he does leave the condo around 10AM, after preparing some light breakfast and tea for Mike, setting the pills on the bedside table and preparing several bottles of water so Mike doesn’t leave the bed if it’s not necessary.
It could become overwhelming fast, but honestly, Mike loves the attention and care the older man showers on him, so it doesn’t bother him at all when Harvey calls him every two hours to check in on him, reminding him to drink water and take his pain meds in case he needs them. They talk quietly for some minutes, Harvey updating him on the cases they were supposed to review and sharing Donna’s ‘get well’ wishes, as well as Rachel’s and Louis’s concerns for his well-being.
If they spend some time murmuring loving words to each other before hanging up, well no one will know.
In the afternoon, Harvey sends him something to eat, a mixed salad, and a turkey and provolone panini that Mike had mentioned a while back was ‘dope’. Mike can’t help to fall in love a little bit more with the older man at the gesture and he just wishes that the day goes by quicker so Harvey can be back next to him. Mike misses him terribly, and the dull pain on his head is nothing on the boredom that eats at him.
The short naps he takes are usually interrupted with Harvey’s calls, which is nice and heart-warming, but do nothing to quench the hollowness inside his chest.
Until this moment, Mike hadn’t realized how much time Harvey and him spent together, but they are sort of attached at the hip, now that he thinks about it. Even more so because he is almost half-way living with the older man.
As soon as the clock strikes 30 minutes past 6 o’clock, the front door opens, and Mike moves from his position on the couch, having moved during lunch time, and eagerly makes his way to greet Harvey.
“Hey,” he says, hands clap together while he waits for Harvey to remove his coat and leave down his briefcase. Harvey smiles brightly at him and as quickly as he can, engulfs Mike in a big careful hug, kissing his temple lovingly.
“How are you?” asks Harvey, moving slightly away to stare intently at Mike, eyes carefully cataloguing every reaction or twitch on his face.
Mike rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and pulls Harvey with him towards the couch, fingers tangling with the other’s man fingers and basking in their warmth.
“I’m good, promise.” They sit close together on the leather couch, Harvey moving an arm behind Mike’s shoulders and looking at him intently. “I swear, even from afar, you are a great caretaker.” Adds Mike, more bashfully and with heated cheeks.
Harvey rolls his eyes, clearly embarrassed at having Mike call him out on his caring but shrugs.
“Do you need your meds?” he asks instead, changing the subject.
Mike shakes his head, and lets his head rest carefully against Harvey’s shoulder, legs bent and tucked close to his chest. “The headache is receding so I’m taking them every four or so hours.” He mumbles, eyes fixed on the muted movie currently playing on the TV.
Harvey hugs him a little tighter and Mike smiles. “What do you want for dinner? I can make you something.”
“Hmm, not sure. I’m not that hungry actually.”
Mike can suddenly feel Harvey’s worried gaze looking intently at him and he sighs, eyes rolling in amusement.
“Whatever you want is fine, I will eat it.” He adds, hoping that will calm Harvey enough. And it does, momentarily at least.
The other man leaves a soft kiss on his forehead and then stands and moves to the kitchen to start on dinner. Mike turns slightly on the couch to stare at him and the easy way in which he moves around. He loves it when Harvey cooks, he is really good at it, although neither of them feels like doing it most of the time.
It really touches his heart that Harvey is doing it for him at the moment and he smiles to himself, attention going back to the TV and unmuting it.
Surprisingly, Harvey wipes out an amazing dinner of grilled salmon and roasted veggies with a side salad and homemade vinaigrette. It’s all delicious and perfect to open Mike’s appetite.
Harvey shares the last updates from the office with Mike, and he laughs at the stories and the flat way Harvey re-tells the conversations to him, knowing he is omitting most of Louis’s real annoying antics and overall, the drama that usually happens at work. The older man doesn’t care for that.
Mike shares his own boring day to Harvey and pouts at him, making the other man laugh and pull him over his lap after dinner, peppering his face with kisses and promises that he won’t let Mike spend another day like that for the rest of his life. It makes his heart beat hard and fast at the out-right proposal but doesn’t say anything, just smiles and kisses Harvey deeply with gratefulness and love.
They retire early for the night, getting on their PJ’s and doing their nightly routine as usual, laying together in bed and sharing a goodnight kiss that soon escalates.
Mike really wants to feel Harvey close to him, over or under him, and inside as soon as possible, but the other man retracts slowly, holding on to Mike’s eager hands and moving hips, a playful smile on his kissed-swollen lips that only make Mike throb with need.
“The nurse said to avoid any strenuous activity,” Harvey reminds him with a soft tone, clearly not happy by being the voice of reason but holding his ground.
“It won’t be. Strenuous, that is. I will let you do everything.” Mike says quickly, eyes pleading.
“Mike.” Harvey’s voice sounds definitive, but there is an uncertainty that Mike will exploit. He turns around, making Harvey stare at the back of his head and back and then turns slightly to hold eye-contact over his shoulder, one hand moving to pull the edge of his pajama pants until he can pull those below his butt.
“Fuck me like this.” He whispers, noticing the way Harvey’s nose flares when his eyes stare intently at his naked ass, one hand moving to caress it softly, looking up to send Mike a reproaching look but still, it doesn’t take long for Harvey to move one of his hands towards Mike’s lips, nudging open his mouth with two fingers and letting Mike lick and suck on them until they are wet and dripping with saliva.
Harvey takes his fingers out of Mike’s mouth and moves them slowly down, until he can softly trace the puckered hole he is so used to claiming and knows it’s pretty much used to anything Harvey does to it. His fingers move unflinching until they breach the soft opening and he shoves them in slowly, eyes attentively taking in Mike’s fluttering eyelids until they close, a soft gasp leaving his red lips when Harvey nudges his prostate head on.
“Relax, I’ve got you,” whispers Harvey softly against the shell of Mike’s ear, and Mike nods, turning back and leaning more heavily on his side, body lax and completely at Harvey’s mercy. The older man kisses Mike neck softly, fingers busy opening the eager hole, stretching it and fucking it slowly until he can shove a third in.
When Mike starts moving his hips back, he retrieves his fingers and holds his waist with a heavy hand.
“Shh, baby, let me take care of you.”
Mike whines, but stops moving, complying with what Harvey is asking him. A second later, Harvey is eagerly pulling out his cock from his own pants and fully pasting himself against Mike, chest to back, a hand grabbing his cock by the base and guiding the tip in between Mike’s cheeks until he feels the wet open entrance and he pushes in, slowly, until he can slide his whole girth inside, instantly groaning out loud at the warm feeling that surrounds his member in such a tight embrace.
Their bodies are as flushed together as they can, so Harvey is able to fit fully inside with no problem, and he swivels his hips in circular motions, searching for Mike’s prostate. When Mike clenches tighter around him, he knows he has found it, and starts fucking inside Mike with careful thrusts, aim directed at that small bundle of nerves that wrecks Mike so beautifully, the slap of their hips an amazing addition to their moans and groans.
Mike is moaning and grunting beautifully, one hand coming to grab hard onto Harvey’s hand holding his waist and their fingers interlock. He then turns his head slightly; eyes filled with unshed tears and cheeks blazing hot.
He looks gorgeous like this, pliantly letting Harvey fuck him deep and slow, face now wet with the tears that run down his cheeks, red bitten lips opening slightly in continues sobs of pleasure. “Harvey, please.” He begs, straining his neck to get closer to Harvey.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Harvey asks, a little worried at the tearful gaze looking back at him. It’s not usual for Mike to cry during sex, so he isn’t sure if he might be hurting him. When he slows down, Mike chokes back a louder sob and shakes his head.
“No, don’t stop,” he gasps wetly. “I need you. I missed you.” He gasps, blue eyes shining with his tears and desperation.
Harvey smiles, and amps up his thrusts, moving faster but still being as careful as possible, his eyes tracing the pasted bandage on the back of Mike’s neck with worried eyes.
“How are you feeling baby?” Harvey asks him softly, lips tracing the length of Mike’s neck with barely felt kisses, making Mike whine low on his throat.
“So good, you feel so good inside.”
Harvey groans at the open admission, hips moving even faster, a hand moving to carefully grab onto Mike’s dick, softly pumping it and letting a thumb rub hard against the slit, while his hips continue to mindlessly snap forward into Mike’s welcoming warm walls.
Fucking Mike like this is incredibly hot and certainly new, but he wishes he could see his teary face and enjoy his body fully, promising to himself to do it as soon as Mike is 100% good.
“Mike,” Murmurs Harvey, moving closer to kiss him softly on the cheek, and then continues kissing every part of his face he can reach while behind him. “Sweetheart.” Mike whines at the pet-name, hand moving down to wrap around Harvey’s and help in jerking his raging hard-on, trying to get his so awaited release.
“I love you.” whines Mike, tilting his head to the side, burying it against the pillow, while Harvey keeps kissing and biting his neck, leaving red and purple marks all over.
Harvey’s breath hitches slightly, still not used to Mike openly admitting his love for him. He moves towards his ear, capturing the lobe between his lips and whispering sweetly against it. “I love you too baby. Come for me.”
Mike clenches hard around Harvey in surprise, all his muscles tensing by the intensity of his orgasm at the soften words whisper into his ear, and with a jerk, his cock spurts messily into both their hands, hole spasming continuedly with the aftershocks, getting Harvey to the edge as well and making him release his come inside Mike’s twitching hole, filling him completely until he has been fully milked.
They stay unmoving, bodies now drained of energy, not even to each get their own distance from the other. Heavey releases Mike’s soften cock from his tight grip and tries to slide out slowly. Mike groans, an arm moving back to halt Harvey’s movements, clawing at his hip.
“Don’t. Stay like this, just hold me.” He requests in a sleepy voice, and even if Harvey is a little reluctant, wanting to make a thorough check up on the younger man to make sure he is all right and he didn’t hurt him, he complies, moving back in place and instead holding Mike by the waist, hugging him against him.
He can’t help the sleepiness that fills him, and before he succumbs to it, he grabs the sheet by their legs and raises it, covering their bodies as best as he can.
Only when they are both covered properly does he let himself close his eyes fully and pass out, Mike securely against his chest in a warm embrace.
++++
The next morning, Mike feels himself covered in dry come and groans, regretting not letting Harvey clean them both as the other man usually does, but the feel of Harvey’s cock half hard and pressed deep against his sore inner walls, already stirring awake, makes him forget about that and he sighs in content, clenching his hole slightly and making Harvey moan behind him, his arm hugging Mike’s waist harder.
Mike chuckles to himself and lets Harvey sleepily give a lazy roll of his hips that have Mike’s breath hitching, heat pooling in his stomach. He makes a choked noise as the cock in him fills completely, stretching him wider, making him arch into the pressure.
He can’t help but rock back eagerly, hands clenching tight around the sheets around him when Harvey starts thrusting harder and faster into him, one of his hands coming around to pull at Mike’s cock in tandem with his hard thrusts, making Mike grunt and whine when the dry come in his pubes catch painfully in every pump of Harvey’s hand.
It just takes a couple of forceful thrusts for Mike to messily come, a choked cry stuck in his throat with the intensity of it. Moments later, Harvey releases inside himself, his come overflowing and dripping around his softening dick, soling his underwear and pajama pants.
“You are insatiable.” Mumbles Harvey against his ear, a clear smile on his lips that make Mike blush at the playful accusation. He winces when Harvey pulls out, and turns slowly on his back, not caring about the mess spilling from his hole or the one on his stomach and thighs.
He shrugs and sighs in content, sending a smirk towards Harvey who is peeling his clothes with clear distaste.
“Didn’t heard you complain one time.” He says and lets Harvey pull him up carefully. The older man snorts at him but doesn’t answer, and they make their way towards the bathroom to take a shower together and get ready for the day.
Harvey is as careful and loving as he has been the past two days, holding on to Mike with a careful hug and barely letting him do anything. He even chooses what Mike will wear and makes their breakfast while Mike chugs down some water and his pain meds.
Usually, they arrive separately, but Harvey is reticent to let Mike bike there or take a taxi, so the both of them climb the town car, greeted by Ray, and make their way to Pearson Hardman; Harvey every once in a while sends Mike worried glances and Mike just smiles at him with reassurance.
Harvey’s sure hand on his lower back guides Mike to the other man’s office, and although he wants to let him know he can very easily work from his own desk in the bullpen, allows the other man to hover all over him, knowing that it will calm him down to know Mike is well, and supervised personally by him.
Harvey takes him everywhere with a hand on his back, even if Mike is used to acting independently depending on the case they work on, each handling different processes of the case or the client. Today, however, Harvey doesn’t allow him to leave his sight, so Mike acquiesces and goes everywhere Harvey goes, even if he isn’t particularly needed sometimes.
It seems that by lunch time, everyone is starting to notice the way they don’t leave each other’s side, and by the time they have come back from eating at a dinner that Harvey used to visit with his dad, almost everyone is looking at them with suspicion, even more so when Harvey gets so close to Mike while they are in the break room, murmuring to him that he forgot his pain meds in the kitchen and he should take them, a heavy hand caressing the back of Mike’s neck with careful touches.
Mike blushes and nods, gulping down his pills with some juice and then following after Harvey to his office, ignoring the way some associates stare wide eyed at them.
The last straw seems to be when the day is almost over, and Louis barges into Harvey’s office requesting Mike to complete the case they were checking two days ago and Harvey just deadpans a dry ‘No.’
Louis doesn’t let it go, and continues to insist, Mike staring quietly and a little agape from Harvey’s couch at the escalating conversation, until Harvey stands fuming from behind his desk and stands in front of Louis ready to pounce on him.
Donna graciously steps into the office and stops whatever is about to happen with a severe glare sent towards Harvey.
“Jessica wants the three of you in her office. Pronto.”
Harvey huffs at the request, and Louis scrambles to go, mumbling to himself all the while about anger-management being painfully needed at the workplace.
Mike stands with a sigh under the watchful eye of Harvey, who waits for him with the door open and a small smile.
“If it comes to it, let me handle anything.” He tells him when Mike exits his office and he nods, unsure of what exactly could be happening, that Harvey is almost arming himself to a fight with Jessica.
Again, Harvey guides him with a hand on his lower back, and they arrive at Jessica’s office under her watchful gaze, Louis already sitting on one chair, Rachel standing next to Jessica’s desk with some folders in her arms.
Jessica addresses both Harvey’s and Mike’s arrival with a raised eyebrow but doesn’t comment on anything until they are both sitting on the couch, suspiciously close if Mike has a say in it, but neither moves to put some space in between them.
“Mike, how are you feeling?” asks Jessica, breaking the tense silence in her office. Mike swallows and smiles slightly.
“I’m good, thanks.” He answers truthfully, because if he is being honest, he does. He feels good. The pain in his head is almost nonexistent and when it’s there, he has his pain meds to help. Only Harvey seems to think he is made of paper and in need of constant care.
Jessica nods at him, some relief in her features. “I’m glad, otherwise, I would not have heard the end of it from Harvey.” Said man rolls his eyes but doesn’t answer the obvious jab at his over-protectiveness. Most likely some kind of discussion happened the prior day that Harvey didn’t bother to share with Mike.
“Jessica, as I told you, now that Mike is all well and healed, he should continue checking the tax case with me. We are almost done with all the revisions and —”
“And I told you no, Louis. You had him for a whole day and then, you returned him to me concussed. You are lucky I haven’t filed a complaint against you.” Interrupts Harvey, leaning forward on the couch and placing his elbows over his knees, a thunderous expression twisting his once calm face.
Mike twitches next to him, having not been aware of how on edge Harvey felt towards Louis over the whole thing.
“Harvey, that was hardly my fault. If your golden boy had been more careful —” that makes Harvey stand quickly and take a menacing step towards Louis, who recoils on his chair almost ready to throw himself over it and run to the other side of the office.
“Listen to me you little —”
“Harvey!” calls Mike in a panic. When Harvey stops and turns to look at him with a cocked eyebrow, Mike sends him a meaningful look. “Behave.” He adds, eyes imploring. Harvey stares a little more at him, then sighs and obeys, taking a seat again on the couch next to Mike and relaxing once Mike slides a hand softly over his thigh.
Both Jessica and Rachel are staring with interest at the weird interaction; realization fills Jessica’s eyes after some time, head cocking in disbelief to one side while Harvey is still locking eyes with Mike, a silent conversation being shared between them. Louis also seems taken aback at their weird staring and casual touching.
“Louis,” Jessica says, breaking the silence. “Please finish reviewing your case with Rachel’s and Harold’s help.” Louis is about to retort, no doubt, but Jessica raises a hand shutting him up immediately. “I need both Harvey and Mike to start on the contracts for the M.K. Foundation. They have agreed for us to represent them, so we need to prepare before the scheduled meeting with Mr. Easterman next Monday.”
Both Harvey and Mike look at Jessica in surprise, but still, they both nod in acknowledgement and stand to leave and prepare for that, all while Louis fumes under his breath and Rachel whispers to him about something in the files she has in her hands.
“By the way, Harvey,” calls Jessica before they can leave, Mike halfway through the door and Harvey right behind, they both stopping to turn towards her. “Please meet with H.R. and fill them on this new development.” She commands, a severe look being sent towards Harvey, who breathes in and then nods, turning back and pushing Mike softly with a hand on his lower back.
Mike sends him a nervous look.
“What was that?” he asks in a low voice.
Harvey smiles gently at him. “She knows.” He confesses with a sigh. Mike winces but is grateful she didn’t chew them out at the realization, and laughing to himself since this development is not new at all, if anything, is old news already, but there is no need for Jessica to know that.
“Everyone's staring.” He notices, when they walk around the office towards the elevators, most likely making their way towards H.R. like Jessica requested.
“Not that guy over – yeah, he just looked.” Says Harvey amused and pointing to a gaped associate by the water cooler. Apparently not caring at all about the unwanted attention, if the hand that he slides over Mike’s waist when they slip into the elevator is any indication. He turns to stare intently at Mike and smiles. “I’m breaking all the rules now anyway.” He says and places a soft kiss on Mike’s lips just when the elevator doors start closing.
If that causes an uproar among all over the people that witnessed the show of affection, well, what can they do about that?
++++
“They are dating?” asks Louis after some time, after his mind has translated Jessica’s words to Harvey regarding H.R., and everything seems to click into place.
“Oh yes, they definitively are.” Says Jessica with a chuckle and some disbelief still in her eyes. She will need to have a very stern conversation with Harvey about what is appropriate in the workplace.
Rachel stares at her, wondering if the older woman knows when this started. It all seemed plain obvious just today, what with Harvey acting all protective and caring over Mike, but if Rachel thinks hard, there were several instances that made her think something else was going on, and now, it all makes sense.
“Huh,” says Louis, more shocked than anything else. “Then maybe the fact they shared the suite wasn’t the punishment I thought it was.” He thinks aloud, so sure that Harvey would be annoyed at having to share a room with his associate.
Jessica snorts. “Oh, Louis. I’m now certain it wasn't a punishment for them, but it certainly was for you if I think about it. Tell me, did you ever find the responsible for that 'systematically slamming dresser drawer' you spent forty-five minutes complaining to me about the next morning?”
Louis freezes, his jaw dropping as his eyes go wide. “You... you don't mean...”
“The room right next to yours, Louis,” Jessica says, raising her eyebrows with a deeply amused smirk. “I had a call with Harvey that night and he mentioned you were right next to them. I think you owe the hotel staff an apology.”
“The noisy neighbors were them?” he asks in a screech, mind suddenly putting two and two together and making him realize that what he thought were drawers being open and closed, where actually Harvey and Mike going at it like animals. “Those scoundrels.” He hisses, standing up in a hurry and walking out of the office, most likely ready to go and start another fight.
Jessica sends Rachel a meaningful look and Rachel nods once before quickly exiting the office and hurrying after a fuming Louis.
It had certainly been some time since Harvey and Mike started their thing, if the clues sprinkled here and there were any indication, but now that everyone at the office was now aware, well, Jessica needed to protect her firm and have Harvey act appropriately.
She was certain Mike would come in handy to help make Harvey behave, of that, she was sure.
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