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cjmarloweThis is for eudaimon. Because of reasons.
Chain of Command
Suits. Jessica/Harvey, Harvey/Mike. 3,400 words. NC-17. [ on AO3 ]
Kink bingo square: penance/punishment. Also contains: pegging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gags, knifeplay/blades, authority figures, semi-public spaces
There's safe, and then there's safe, and while Mike might be one of those now, he's definitely not the other. Jessica knows, she knows about his and Harvey's little white lie, and that means even if he still has a job right now nothing's safe anymore, not his personal life or his work life or his future, and the only thing he can count on is Harvey.
When Harvey Specter is your rock, you know you're in trouble.
So Mike's burning the midnight oil again, proving his worth on a filing box full of busy work that Louis dumped on his desk instead of anything that would impress Harvey or feel like accomplishment in any meaningful way. It's tedious and demoralizing and he's pretty sure Louis would be pleased with himself if Mike ever told him that so he bites his tongue and just gets it done.
But enough is enough, and the wee hours of the morning are no time to be seeing around the office by the glow of his laptop screen. He slams it shut and navigates by memory—not even particularly challenging for him as long as no one left anything in the aisles—up to Harvey's office to drop a file on Donna's desk before leaving.
There's no glowing screen in Harvey's office to see by, but Mike still detects motion out of the corner of his eye and freezes right where he is.
There's no reason for it. He has every right to be where he is. But since Harvey's clearly not working in the dark, the first thing his brain jumps to is 'burglary' followed by 'espionage' and 'hired hit man' and he's not sure he's even supposed to breathe until he's confident of his safety and security.
His eyes take a little while to adjust to the near darkness. At first he only sees the motion of a body, then two. No faces, no identities, and given their relative positions, no chance they're robbing the place.
If he doesn't move, they won't see him. He's not an idiot, he knows he's not invisible, but despite the glass walls they're really only visible from a very specific angle and that angle happens to be right where he's standing. As long as no one turns on the lights, and as long as he doesn't move, nobody's going to see him. They've got other things on their minds.
He blinks a few times and features become more distinct.
That one's Harvey, Mike recognizes him by his ear, then his profile, then the line of his bare back that Mike's not nearly as familiar with as the rest of him no matter how well tailored his suits are. Harvey on his hands and knees on his office floor.
And that one's Jessica, hair loose, standing tall over him with one bare foot on his back. Sliding that foot towards his shoulders until he drops to his elbows and presses his forehead against the floor.
Mike should not be watching this. He can't look away.
For a long time she just stands and Harvey just takes it, barely moves, then she's stepping to the side and leaning over to run her hand over his ass and up his back and Mike never thought he'd be seeing so much of Harvey Specter's ass. Of Harvey Specter's anything.
They're talking but he only knows because he sees lips moving; if you could hear through the office walls so easily, there'd be no such thing as confidentiality.
He might be too late. Jessica is turning around and walking away and only when she's momentarily out of sight does Mike think 'wait, too late for what?' because it isn't as if he came here on purpose knowing what he'd find when he did. By any reasonable standards he's not too late, he's too early. He shouldn't have been here to see any of this.
Then the lawyer part of his brain says that two people engaging in workplace sex with that many glass walls have no reasonable expectation of privacy.
Because he can't hear them, because he can't know, Mike starts filling in the blanks himself. Jessica can't fire Harvey, not the way Mike's job is in jeopardy if he so much as breathes wrong, but there are other ways to keep him in line. To remind him who's in charge. To remind him who he always has to answer to.
Harvey doesn't move even after Jessica disappears, and Mike thinks that might be a part of this whole thing. That maybe he can't move. That maybe they have this because the rest of the time, Harvey pushes every boundary he sees and a few that he has to go looking for.
Harvey did a bad, bad thing. There's a price for that.
He turns his head and for a terrifying moment Mike thinks he's caught, then he turns it the other way and Mike realizes Harvey's just working out the kinks. The kinks from what, Mike can only imagine. He can see the macro but not the micro, can see Harvey's features and position and even expression, if he squints, but he can't tell what his skin feels like right now or how dilated his pupils might be.
Then Harvey turns his head in earnest, not towards the office wall but back over his shoulder.
There's the indistinct sound of a raised voice and his head snaps back down again, his back arches and his knees spread, and Mike can only half imagine why until Jessica comes into view again. A part of him expected heels and a leather whip, based on his teenage consumption of porn, but no. She's still barefoot and empty-handed, but she's got a dark, glistening cock strapped to her and it doesn't take a leap of imagination to know where this is going. She's going to fuck him. She's going to fuck Harvey, and Mike gets inexplicably hard for something he never even dreamed he'd be into.
Or Harvey would be into. Harvey is the guy who walks around like he has a foot-long cock in his pants and knows exactly what to do with it. He's the one who does the doing. He's the closer.
Not here, not now, not tonight. Jessica is calling the shots. But Mike's still pretty sure there's still a line she won't cross and that line is the point at which Harvey would say no. Harvey did not say no.
Situations are harder to read than books, but Mike thinks he's getting this one. A show of power, but not just a show of power. A punishment, but not just a punishment. A demonstration of trust. A consensual atonement. Correction with affection.
Which doesn't mean that Mike doesn't get an extra little thrill when Jessica slaps Harvey's ass hard enough that Mike can see it redden, or when Harvey wraps his hands around the leg of the desk so firmly he looks like he's handcuffed. He has never seen Harvey look so vulnerable, or so well used.
Mike couldn't leave now if he wanted to, and in the privacy of his head he can admit that he doesn't. Invading their privacy or not, he would wonder forever if he didn't see this through.
Harvey Specter is not unhappy to be fucked. He is contrite, not ashamed. Jessica doesn't do anything to prepare him which Mike is sure means only that he got here too late to see it, not that she gave him nothing at all. She pushes right into him, no hesitation and no resistance. Her lips move and Harvey's head falls even further as he pushes himself back onto her.
Jessica physically turns Harvey's head to the side, gripping him by the hair at the back of his head, and even though neither he nor Jessica look directly at him Mike knows, he knows, she does it because she knows he's there.
He very nearly comes in his pants, which is almost as much of a surprise as being turned on by all of this in the first place.
But he doesn't touch himself. He doesn't move at all. And Jessica resumes, driving into Harvey so hard she shifts his entire body with each thrust, one hand working between her own legs even as Harvey heaves breaths that make his back rise and fall.
She slumps and stutters and it's a fresh jolt when Mike recognizes the signals that she's coming, still buried deep inside Harvey, and Harvey's pushing and squirming and waiting for her to finish him. She waits longer than necessary, Mike can see that from the position of her body and the look on her face, even if Harvey has no way of knowing.
When she finally moves again it's hard and furious, fingers sinking into Harvey's hips so firmly Mike can see the indentations in his flesh.
When Harvey comes, his whole body shuddering and cock pulsing, untouched, where Mike can just barely see it, Mike has to bite the inside of his cheek and press his fingernails hard into his palm to keep from following.
Things are slow after that, almost tender. Jessica caresses his back for a long time before pulling out, and disappears from view for just long enough to clean herself up. When she comes back, still naked but with no extra appendages, Harvey hasn't moved at all except to let go of the desk leg to flex and rotate his wrists.
Harvey stays where he is, even after Jessica is finished with him. Even after she dresses.
Jessica is all of three feet away from Mike when she leaves Harvey's office, shoes in hand and looking to neither side as she goes.
Mike knows Jessica knows he's there, but if they don't acknowledge it then they never have to admit to anything later on when they look one another in the eye. It's none of Mike's business what she does with her personal time, and it's none of hers what he does with his, and if those personal times happen to occasionally overlap like a kinky Venn diagram then that has nothing to do with their working lives.
Except in Mike's head this has everything to do with their working lives.
It's another few moments before Mike moves, because even if he knows Jessica knows he's there, he's not as sure of Harvey. Harvey's still on the floor, head pressed against his forearms and looking shaken and wrecked in all the best ways.
Jessica didn't just abandon him there—she left him exactly where and how he wanted to be.
Mike waits another few moments, long enough to be sure Harvey knows he's there, long enough for Harvey to move or get up or tell him to get the hell out of his office if that's what he wants. When Harvey stays exactly where he is, Mike walks over to his body and crouches down and holds a hand so close to the skin of Harvey's lower back that he can feel waves of damp heat coming off of it. Harvey makes a noise, soft and low, and Mike touches him, traces a finger down, over the slight curve of his ass, to his upper thigh.
Harvey's knees are still parted and Mike can see, in the faintest of ways in the dim light, how stretched he is. How slick he still is. He doesn't think about it, isn't thinking about much at all except how Harvey is there and he is wanting so much.
He slides two fingers inside of him, easy as that, and Harvey makes that noise again, half moan and half gasp. They go all the way in with the barest resistance. Then he turns his wrist and feels his fingers twisting inside Harvey's body, lubricant coating them as they go, and it blows his mind. He can hardly breathe.
He thinks Harvey's too well fucked to do more than make encouraging sounds as Mike fingers him and remembers what he's just seen and what Harvey's just done. That's why he's caught off balance when Harvey moves, pushes up to his hands and knees again then twists and rolls and somehow ends up with Mike on his back on Harvey's office floor and Harvey hovering over him with a peculiar glint in his eyes.
"That's not how this goes," says Harvey, straddling his body and unknotting Mike's tie with one hand. Mike can see his thighs trembling, can feel the slickness still on his own fingers, but Harvey doesn't even change expression as he strips him down to the waist.
They don't talk about this. They don't negotiate this. As soon as Mike walked into the room and Harvey didn't leave, this was already happening and no one had to spell anything out.
"I want you on your back," he says, and Mike doesn't move when Harvey steps away for just long enough to strip his pants off, with efficiency and care; he doesn't care about his suits more than people, not really, but sometimes it's a close call.
Mike thinks of Harvey on his hands and knees and says, "That's not how you—"
"I didn't want me on my back, I want you on your back," he says. "We're not the same." For the first time, Mike feels like there's no value judgment in that statement, either in his favor or in Harvey's.
He opens his mouth to speak, maybe to agree, he's not sure, but before he can Harvey presses something inside. Not a tie, he'd never risk that. It's sheer and cool and a moment later Mike realizes it must be Jessica's pantyhose, left behind by accident, or maybe on purpose, just for this.
"We don't need to talk," says Harvey, then gropes the edge of his desk and puts a letter opener between his own teeth, holding it there gently but firmly. It's not sharp enough to damage, just sharp enough to hurt if he lets it go. Just precarious enough that Harvey can't talk without doing just that. He smiles around it and it might just be the hottest thing Mike has ever seen. He forgets to breathe again.
There's a condom in Harvey's hand a moment later, and Mike thinks 'too soon, I'm not ready yet' but another, louder, part of him both trusts Harvey and thinks he might deserve it anyway, so he closes his eyes and bites down on the wad of hose and tenses up. But then the condom's rolling down his cock, so hard for so long now that just Harvey's touch makes it jump. Then Harvey is sinking down onto him and clamping hold of him with his knees.
Mike doesn't open his eyes, they fly open. Harvey is looking at him, and once their eyes meet he doesn't let Mike look away. There is no mistaking who is in charge here, just as there had been no mistaking who had been in charge when Mike had been watching, and it has nothing to do with who is penetrating whom.
But still, in the part of his mind that's still running its own narrative, Mike wonders if he has just replaced Jessica as a prop in this scenario, if Harvey is doing it this way again because he thinks he deserves it. Mike wonders if there's a kind of ecstasy in Harvey's submission, a fulfilment from getting what he deserves, even when what he thinks he deserves this time isn't a fast car and a beautiful woman.
Well, okay, he got the beautiful woman.
Mike moves to put his hands on Harvey's body but Harvey grabs his wrists and presses them to the floor and in the process leans forward in a way that makes Mike push inside even further. He can't speak but he makes noises, harsh and from deep in his throat, and he doesn't think Harvey would have expected anything less. If he wanted someone silent in his life, he wouldn't have hired Mike Ross.
Harvey's so close and breathing so hard that Mike can see the cool metal in his mouth fogging up and shrinking back over and over again.
For a moment he thinks it's going to slip, it's slick with condensation and Harvey's going to open his mouth and gasp any moment, and he watches and holds his own breath and waits for it. But Mike is the one to open his mouth and gasp around the fabric and Harvey is the one to stay in control.
His gratification is entirely in Harvey's metaphorical hands, since his literal ones are still pinning Mike to the floor. When he was watching, Mike had been entirely at the mercy of someone else's rhythm, and the same is true now that he's the one naked on Harvey Specter's office carpet. The rise and fall of Harvey's body, his bends and angles, the rolls of his hips, are all outside of Mike's control.
He might be on the cusp of coming but a part of him wonders if the person being punished all night hasn't been him all along.
Harvey's teeth clench hard and he lets go of Mike's wrists to lean right back and Mike's reaching for him before he even thinks about it, leaning up to cradle his body with his knees and arms and pressing his fingers into soft skin at Harvey's waist, exactly where Jessica's fingers have been before.
Harvey's leaning so far back he wraps his hands around Mike's ankles and Mike uses his newfound leverage to drive up into him and Harvey's coming so fast it had to have been building in him from before he even let go of Mike's wrists.
Now that he can, Mike pushes into the floor with his heels and into Harvey as hard and as far as he can and that's all he has time for before he's coming too. He's held this off for so long already, so long and so hard-fought, that he nearly blacks out when he finally lets it go.
The next thing he remembers, he's flat on his back on the floor and Harvey is gently tugging the stocking out of his mouth. There's a sting in his side, but only once he manages to focus his eyes again, and once Harvey swings a leg over and is off him completely, does he realize it's from where the letter opener finally tumbled from Harvey's mouth. Harvey stretches up and then down and rubs his thighs and wrists to rid them of the burning, of the ache.
He doesn't look displeased at all.
Mike is slow to dress, pausing to touch himself, cup his balls and his soft cock, press his hand against his abdomen, against his throat, like he might not actually be real. Despite the aches in his joints and the bruises he knows he'll be finding in the morning, the whole night's been faintly surreal.
"This doesn't mean I don't expect you here at seven-thirty tomorrow morning."
That part is definitely not surreal.
"Technically, that's today," says Mike. "And obviously this doesn't mean I don't expect you to be sitting there waiting for me."
Harvey pauses and looks up at him with something that's almost a smile, just for a moment. "I might be standing," he says, and zips up.
It's not going to be exactly the same. Mike's not an idiot, and sex changes things in ways you don't expect it to. It would change things even if it was nothing but a closet quickie and this was...not that. But it's not all going to be different either. He respects Harvey as much as he did yesterday. Maybe even a little bit more. Maybe that's a part of what this was; he doesn't know and he's not going to obsess about it now.
Which is good because Harvey doesn't justify anything, not what they just did and not what he does with Jessica—does, because this obviously was neither the first nor last time. Mike trusts Harvey to have his back and Harvey trusts Mike to be smart and this just reinforces the status quo, it doesn't challenge it.
Still, as Mike dresses and picks up his things and heads out of the building, five minutes behind Harvey, he can't help thinking he's a little safer than he thought he was after all.
This entry was originally posted at http://cj.dreamwidth.org/11643.html.
eudaimon. Because of reasons.Chain of Command
Suits. Jessica/Harvey, Harvey/Mike. 3,400 words. NC-17. [ on AO3 ]
Kink bingo square: penance/punishment. Also contains: pegging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gags, knifeplay/blades, authority figures, semi-public spaces
There's safe, and then there's safe, and while Mike might be one of those now, he's definitely not the other. Jessica knows, she knows about his and Harvey's little white lie, and that means even if he still has a job right now nothing's safe anymore, not his personal life or his work life or his future, and the only thing he can count on is Harvey.
When Harvey Specter is your rock, you know you're in trouble.
So Mike's burning the midnight oil again, proving his worth on a filing box full of busy work that Louis dumped on his desk instead of anything that would impress Harvey or feel like accomplishment in any meaningful way. It's tedious and demoralizing and he's pretty sure Louis would be pleased with himself if Mike ever told him that so he bites his tongue and just gets it done.
But enough is enough, and the wee hours of the morning are no time to be seeing around the office by the glow of his laptop screen. He slams it shut and navigates by memory—not even particularly challenging for him as long as no one left anything in the aisles—up to Harvey's office to drop a file on Donna's desk before leaving.
There's no glowing screen in Harvey's office to see by, but Mike still detects motion out of the corner of his eye and freezes right where he is.
There's no reason for it. He has every right to be where he is. But since Harvey's clearly not working in the dark, the first thing his brain jumps to is 'burglary' followed by 'espionage' and 'hired hit man' and he's not sure he's even supposed to breathe until he's confident of his safety and security.
His eyes take a little while to adjust to the near darkness. At first he only sees the motion of a body, then two. No faces, no identities, and given their relative positions, no chance they're robbing the place.
If he doesn't move, they won't see him. He's not an idiot, he knows he's not invisible, but despite the glass walls they're really only visible from a very specific angle and that angle happens to be right where he's standing. As long as no one turns on the lights, and as long as he doesn't move, nobody's going to see him. They've got other things on their minds.
He blinks a few times and features become more distinct.
That one's Harvey, Mike recognizes him by his ear, then his profile, then the line of his bare back that Mike's not nearly as familiar with as the rest of him no matter how well tailored his suits are. Harvey on his hands and knees on his office floor.
And that one's Jessica, hair loose, standing tall over him with one bare foot on his back. Sliding that foot towards his shoulders until he drops to his elbows and presses his forehead against the floor.
Mike should not be watching this. He can't look away.
For a long time she just stands and Harvey just takes it, barely moves, then she's stepping to the side and leaning over to run her hand over his ass and up his back and Mike never thought he'd be seeing so much of Harvey Specter's ass. Of Harvey Specter's anything.
They're talking but he only knows because he sees lips moving; if you could hear through the office walls so easily, there'd be no such thing as confidentiality.
He might be too late. Jessica is turning around and walking away and only when she's momentarily out of sight does Mike think 'wait, too late for what?' because it isn't as if he came here on purpose knowing what he'd find when he did. By any reasonable standards he's not too late, he's too early. He shouldn't have been here to see any of this.
Then the lawyer part of his brain says that two people engaging in workplace sex with that many glass walls have no reasonable expectation of privacy.
Because he can't hear them, because he can't know, Mike starts filling in the blanks himself. Jessica can't fire Harvey, not the way Mike's job is in jeopardy if he so much as breathes wrong, but there are other ways to keep him in line. To remind him who's in charge. To remind him who he always has to answer to.
Harvey doesn't move even after Jessica disappears, and Mike thinks that might be a part of this whole thing. That maybe he can't move. That maybe they have this because the rest of the time, Harvey pushes every boundary he sees and a few that he has to go looking for.
Harvey did a bad, bad thing. There's a price for that.
He turns his head and for a terrifying moment Mike thinks he's caught, then he turns it the other way and Mike realizes Harvey's just working out the kinks. The kinks from what, Mike can only imagine. He can see the macro but not the micro, can see Harvey's features and position and even expression, if he squints, but he can't tell what his skin feels like right now or how dilated his pupils might be.
Then Harvey turns his head in earnest, not towards the office wall but back over his shoulder.
There's the indistinct sound of a raised voice and his head snaps back down again, his back arches and his knees spread, and Mike can only half imagine why until Jessica comes into view again. A part of him expected heels and a leather whip, based on his teenage consumption of porn, but no. She's still barefoot and empty-handed, but she's got a dark, glistening cock strapped to her and it doesn't take a leap of imagination to know where this is going. She's going to fuck him. She's going to fuck Harvey, and Mike gets inexplicably hard for something he never even dreamed he'd be into.
Or Harvey would be into. Harvey is the guy who walks around like he has a foot-long cock in his pants and knows exactly what to do with it. He's the one who does the doing. He's the closer.
Not here, not now, not tonight. Jessica is calling the shots. But Mike's still pretty sure there's still a line she won't cross and that line is the point at which Harvey would say no. Harvey did not say no.
Situations are harder to read than books, but Mike thinks he's getting this one. A show of power, but not just a show of power. A punishment, but not just a punishment. A demonstration of trust. A consensual atonement. Correction with affection.
Which doesn't mean that Mike doesn't get an extra little thrill when Jessica slaps Harvey's ass hard enough that Mike can see it redden, or when Harvey wraps his hands around the leg of the desk so firmly he looks like he's handcuffed. He has never seen Harvey look so vulnerable, or so well used.
Mike couldn't leave now if he wanted to, and in the privacy of his head he can admit that he doesn't. Invading their privacy or not, he would wonder forever if he didn't see this through.
Harvey Specter is not unhappy to be fucked. He is contrite, not ashamed. Jessica doesn't do anything to prepare him which Mike is sure means only that he got here too late to see it, not that she gave him nothing at all. She pushes right into him, no hesitation and no resistance. Her lips move and Harvey's head falls even further as he pushes himself back onto her.
Jessica physically turns Harvey's head to the side, gripping him by the hair at the back of his head, and even though neither he nor Jessica look directly at him Mike knows, he knows, she does it because she knows he's there.
He very nearly comes in his pants, which is almost as much of a surprise as being turned on by all of this in the first place.
But he doesn't touch himself. He doesn't move at all. And Jessica resumes, driving into Harvey so hard she shifts his entire body with each thrust, one hand working between her own legs even as Harvey heaves breaths that make his back rise and fall.
She slumps and stutters and it's a fresh jolt when Mike recognizes the signals that she's coming, still buried deep inside Harvey, and Harvey's pushing and squirming and waiting for her to finish him. She waits longer than necessary, Mike can see that from the position of her body and the look on her face, even if Harvey has no way of knowing.
When she finally moves again it's hard and furious, fingers sinking into Harvey's hips so firmly Mike can see the indentations in his flesh.
When Harvey comes, his whole body shuddering and cock pulsing, untouched, where Mike can just barely see it, Mike has to bite the inside of his cheek and press his fingernails hard into his palm to keep from following.
Things are slow after that, almost tender. Jessica caresses his back for a long time before pulling out, and disappears from view for just long enough to clean herself up. When she comes back, still naked but with no extra appendages, Harvey hasn't moved at all except to let go of the desk leg to flex and rotate his wrists.
Harvey stays where he is, even after Jessica is finished with him. Even after she dresses.
Jessica is all of three feet away from Mike when she leaves Harvey's office, shoes in hand and looking to neither side as she goes.
Mike knows Jessica knows he's there, but if they don't acknowledge it then they never have to admit to anything later on when they look one another in the eye. It's none of Mike's business what she does with her personal time, and it's none of hers what he does with his, and if those personal times happen to occasionally overlap like a kinky Venn diagram then that has nothing to do with their working lives.
Except in Mike's head this has everything to do with their working lives.
It's another few moments before Mike moves, because even if he knows Jessica knows he's there, he's not as sure of Harvey. Harvey's still on the floor, head pressed against his forearms and looking shaken and wrecked in all the best ways.
Jessica didn't just abandon him there—she left him exactly where and how he wanted to be.
Mike waits another few moments, long enough to be sure Harvey knows he's there, long enough for Harvey to move or get up or tell him to get the hell out of his office if that's what he wants. When Harvey stays exactly where he is, Mike walks over to his body and crouches down and holds a hand so close to the skin of Harvey's lower back that he can feel waves of damp heat coming off of it. Harvey makes a noise, soft and low, and Mike touches him, traces a finger down, over the slight curve of his ass, to his upper thigh.
Harvey's knees are still parted and Mike can see, in the faintest of ways in the dim light, how stretched he is. How slick he still is. He doesn't think about it, isn't thinking about much at all except how Harvey is there and he is wanting so much.
He slides two fingers inside of him, easy as that, and Harvey makes that noise again, half moan and half gasp. They go all the way in with the barest resistance. Then he turns his wrist and feels his fingers twisting inside Harvey's body, lubricant coating them as they go, and it blows his mind. He can hardly breathe.
He thinks Harvey's too well fucked to do more than make encouraging sounds as Mike fingers him and remembers what he's just seen and what Harvey's just done. That's why he's caught off balance when Harvey moves, pushes up to his hands and knees again then twists and rolls and somehow ends up with Mike on his back on Harvey's office floor and Harvey hovering over him with a peculiar glint in his eyes.
"That's not how this goes," says Harvey, straddling his body and unknotting Mike's tie with one hand. Mike can see his thighs trembling, can feel the slickness still on his own fingers, but Harvey doesn't even change expression as he strips him down to the waist.
They don't talk about this. They don't negotiate this. As soon as Mike walked into the room and Harvey didn't leave, this was already happening and no one had to spell anything out.
"I want you on your back," he says, and Mike doesn't move when Harvey steps away for just long enough to strip his pants off, with efficiency and care; he doesn't care about his suits more than people, not really, but sometimes it's a close call.
Mike thinks of Harvey on his hands and knees and says, "That's not how you—"
"I didn't want me on my back, I want you on your back," he says. "We're not the same." For the first time, Mike feels like there's no value judgment in that statement, either in his favor or in Harvey's.
He opens his mouth to speak, maybe to agree, he's not sure, but before he can Harvey presses something inside. Not a tie, he'd never risk that. It's sheer and cool and a moment later Mike realizes it must be Jessica's pantyhose, left behind by accident, or maybe on purpose, just for this.
"We don't need to talk," says Harvey, then gropes the edge of his desk and puts a letter opener between his own teeth, holding it there gently but firmly. It's not sharp enough to damage, just sharp enough to hurt if he lets it go. Just precarious enough that Harvey can't talk without doing just that. He smiles around it and it might just be the hottest thing Mike has ever seen. He forgets to breathe again.
There's a condom in Harvey's hand a moment later, and Mike thinks 'too soon, I'm not ready yet' but another, louder, part of him both trusts Harvey and thinks he might deserve it anyway, so he closes his eyes and bites down on the wad of hose and tenses up. But then the condom's rolling down his cock, so hard for so long now that just Harvey's touch makes it jump. Then Harvey is sinking down onto him and clamping hold of him with his knees.
Mike doesn't open his eyes, they fly open. Harvey is looking at him, and once their eyes meet he doesn't let Mike look away. There is no mistaking who is in charge here, just as there had been no mistaking who had been in charge when Mike had been watching, and it has nothing to do with who is penetrating whom.
But still, in the part of his mind that's still running its own narrative, Mike wonders if he has just replaced Jessica as a prop in this scenario, if Harvey is doing it this way again because he thinks he deserves it. Mike wonders if there's a kind of ecstasy in Harvey's submission, a fulfilment from getting what he deserves, even when what he thinks he deserves this time isn't a fast car and a beautiful woman.
Well, okay, he got the beautiful woman.
Mike moves to put his hands on Harvey's body but Harvey grabs his wrists and presses them to the floor and in the process leans forward in a way that makes Mike push inside even further. He can't speak but he makes noises, harsh and from deep in his throat, and he doesn't think Harvey would have expected anything less. If he wanted someone silent in his life, he wouldn't have hired Mike Ross.
Harvey's so close and breathing so hard that Mike can see the cool metal in his mouth fogging up and shrinking back over and over again.
For a moment he thinks it's going to slip, it's slick with condensation and Harvey's going to open his mouth and gasp any moment, and he watches and holds his own breath and waits for it. But Mike is the one to open his mouth and gasp around the fabric and Harvey is the one to stay in control.
His gratification is entirely in Harvey's metaphorical hands, since his literal ones are still pinning Mike to the floor. When he was watching, Mike had been entirely at the mercy of someone else's rhythm, and the same is true now that he's the one naked on Harvey Specter's office carpet. The rise and fall of Harvey's body, his bends and angles, the rolls of his hips, are all outside of Mike's control.
He might be on the cusp of coming but a part of him wonders if the person being punished all night hasn't been him all along.
Harvey's teeth clench hard and he lets go of Mike's wrists to lean right back and Mike's reaching for him before he even thinks about it, leaning up to cradle his body with his knees and arms and pressing his fingers into soft skin at Harvey's waist, exactly where Jessica's fingers have been before.
Harvey's leaning so far back he wraps his hands around Mike's ankles and Mike uses his newfound leverage to drive up into him and Harvey's coming so fast it had to have been building in him from before he even let go of Mike's wrists.
Now that he can, Mike pushes into the floor with his heels and into Harvey as hard and as far as he can and that's all he has time for before he's coming too. He's held this off for so long already, so long and so hard-fought, that he nearly blacks out when he finally lets it go.
The next thing he remembers, he's flat on his back on the floor and Harvey is gently tugging the stocking out of his mouth. There's a sting in his side, but only once he manages to focus his eyes again, and once Harvey swings a leg over and is off him completely, does he realize it's from where the letter opener finally tumbled from Harvey's mouth. Harvey stretches up and then down and rubs his thighs and wrists to rid them of the burning, of the ache.
He doesn't look displeased at all.
Mike is slow to dress, pausing to touch himself, cup his balls and his soft cock, press his hand against his abdomen, against his throat, like he might not actually be real. Despite the aches in his joints and the bruises he knows he'll be finding in the morning, the whole night's been faintly surreal.
"This doesn't mean I don't expect you here at seven-thirty tomorrow morning."
That part is definitely not surreal.
"Technically, that's today," says Mike. "And obviously this doesn't mean I don't expect you to be sitting there waiting for me."
Harvey pauses and looks up at him with something that's almost a smile, just for a moment. "I might be standing," he says, and zips up.
It's not going to be exactly the same. Mike's not an idiot, and sex changes things in ways you don't expect it to. It would change things even if it was nothing but a closet quickie and this was...not that. But it's not all going to be different either. He respects Harvey as much as he did yesterday. Maybe even a little bit more. Maybe that's a part of what this was; he doesn't know and he's not going to obsess about it now.
Which is good because Harvey doesn't justify anything, not what they just did and not what he does with Jessica—does, because this obviously was neither the first nor last time. Mike trusts Harvey to have his back and Harvey trusts Mike to be smart and this just reinforces the status quo, it doesn't challenge it.
Still, as Mike dresses and picks up his things and heads out of the building, five minutes behind Harvey, he can't help thinking he's a little safer than he thought he was after all.
This entry was originally posted at http://cj.dreamwidth.org/11643.html.
