fic: in vino fuckitas (mike/harvey. [suits]. adult.)
Here, have this thing that refused to get out of my head until I took two hours to write it down. I told you I was obsessed with Suits.
Title: in vino fuckitas
Author: _mournthewicked
Pairing: Mike/Harvey [Suits]
Rating: Adult.
Word Count: ~ 3,400
Summary: It wasn't like Harvey exactly planned on them ending up in bed together, but Mike showing up at his place with his stupidly smart, impossibly pink mouth sort of blew that idea right out of the water.
Notes: First Suits fic, yay! This takes place during 106 - Tricks of the Trade. Thanks to mclachlan for coercing cheerleading and kamikaze_redux for the beta! ♥
Harvey Specter prides himself on only ever dealing in facts, never emotions. Emotions aren’t valuable currency. They’re messy and unpredictable, but facts? They’re reliable; rock-hard solid fact never changes.
Here are the current facts as Harvey sees them:
1) It’s 11 PM.
2) He’s about three glasses of wine deep.
3) Mike Ross is at his door.
4) Mike Ross is very drunk.
5) Mike Ross’ mouth is impossibly pink.
“Don’t ever call me dude,” Harvey says, because he can’t let Mike just go around saying whatever the hell he wants with that stupid pink mouth, even if it does dredge up memories of sexually curious frat boys and dirty mouths made even pinker.
Harvey blinks and refocuses on Mike’s eyes, which are stupidly blue. Jesus, what is it with this kid?
Mike’s rambling about something, jealous of Harvey’s opulence, blah blah, and then suddenly he finds himself saying, “Remind me to have Donna get you a spare key,” and he’s not even sure if he’s kidding. That’s when he knows he needs to end this.
Mike hands over his ill-gotten gains with a drunken flourish, and Harvey goes to shut the door in his face. Only Mike doesn’t let him. He slips inside his goddamn apartment with a grace that someone at his level of intoxication should not be able to muster up. Harvey finds himself blinking at his closed door and wondering what the hell just happened.
“Your hair,” Mike says, pink mouth slack and blue eyes north of Harvey’s forehead. “It looks soft. Can I touch it?”
“What? No, you cannot - “
“I’m so touching it.” And then Mike’s all up in his space, breathing hot against Harvey’s cheek as he reaches up with a stupid grin and slides his slender fingers right into his hair, thumb skimming the mole above his brow. “Oh man, I was right. This is so soft. You’re like an incredibly affluent kitten.”
“I will not hesitate to kick your ass, Mike.”
“Meeeeow.” Harvey rolls his eyes and grabs Mike by the elbow, but he jerks his arm away. “No, stop, I’m not done.”
“Stop touching me or you’re fired.”
“As if you would ever,” Mike replies, smirking in that cocky Mike Ross way of his while he combs his fingers through Harvey’s hair and goddamnit, it feels kind of nice. “Meow.”
“Stop that.” But then Harvey closes his eyes and kind of leans into it, because he’s not exactly sober himself, and he can practically hear Mike’s smug grin.
“Aww, see? You like it.”
“Do not,” Harvey mumbles, but then Mike’s thumb makes a wide arch across his forehead and he curls Harvey’s hair around his fingers and tugs - just a little, just enough to make his belly tighten. “Mike,” he warns. He isn’t exactly sure what he’s warning him against, but all it does is make him move closer.
“You like me,” Mike whispers, and then those stupid, impossibly pink lips are pressing against the corner of his mouth, all soft but sure, clinging damply as he lets out a soft hum.
Harvey knows that he should stop this. Mike’s drunk, and Harvey is a gentleman. He never takes advantage of a lady, or in this case, a stupidly not-stupid frat boy of an associate, when they’ve had too much to drink. But that’s not even the main reason. Mike makes him feel things that Harvey knows he shouldn’t, and that just can’t stand. Emotions are bad.
“Mike,” he says against his mouth, and he sort of wants to pull back just to look and see how pink it is. Mike just shakes his head, curling his hands around the back of Harvey’s neck and holding him still.
And then Mike kisses him, and yeah, his lips are as soft as they look. Harvey just stands there, doesn’t touch him or kiss him back, and then Mike lets out a long, drawn out meooow right into his mouth. Oh, that is it.
He grabs Mike by the hips and spins him around, pushing him up against the door and holding him there as he kisses him. Mike hums happily, arms looping around Harvey’s shoulders as he tips his head up and opens his mouth. Harvey licks his way inside, tastes alcohol on Mike’s tongue, and groans deep in his throat when Mike’s hips rock up underneath him.
“Shit.” Harvey pulls back and Mike whimpers, fingers curling in the soft fabric of Harvey’s shirt. “There’s an incredibly long list of reasons why this is a bad idea, and the fact that you’re drunk is at the tippy top.”
“I’m not drunk!” Mike scoffs like the very idea is absurd, like his eyes aren’t glassy and his cheeks aren’t flushed. And his lips, son of a bitch, have gone from pink and puffy to red and swollen and Harvey just wants to suck on them until they’re dark and bruised. “I’m not even close to drunk.”
“You’re a shit liar.”
“Name an amendment,” Mike says, fingers stroking the back of Harvey’s neck like this is something they do every day. “C’mon, pick one.”
“Eighteen.” Harvey realizes that he’s grinning after it’s too late to stop it, and Mike smirks up at him, fingers brushing the short hair at the base of his skull.
“After one year from the ratification of this article the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors within, the importation thereof into, or the exportation thereof from the United States and all territory subject to the jurisdiction thereof for beverage purposes is hereby prohibited,” Mike rambles off, eyes half-lidded like he’s bored with it all. “Shit law.”
Harvey just hums and curls his fingers a little tighter around the bony spurs of Mike’s hips, but otherwise doesn’t move. Here’s a new fact: Mike reciting constitutional amendments with a thick, lazy tongue is one hell of a turn-on.
Mike leans in, mouth brushing the swell of Harvey’s lower lip as he continues. “Ratified January 16th, 1919 and repealed on December 5th, 1933 with the ratification of the 21st Amendment, which states, the eighteenth article - ”
Harvey shuts him up with a kiss, taking advantage of Mike’s gasp by pushing his tongue between his lips to lick the back of his teeth. Mike moans softly as Harvey tugs his cheap, ill-fitting shirt out of his pants so he can get his hands on the soft skin underneath, fingers slipping across his flat belly to grab at the curve of his hip.
“You’re too smart for your own goddamn good, you know that?” Mike just smiles, lips stretched wide, all red and shiny. Harvey bites down on Mike’s lower lip and tugs gently, never looking away from his wide blue eyes. “Never know when to shut your mouth.”
“Looks like you like my mouth, Harvey,” Mike says, just to prove Harvey’s point. And there’s that smirk again, the one Harvey wants to wipe right off his face.
“Come on.” Harvey spins them around and grabs Mike ass, half-carrying and half-dragging him over to the sofa. Mike just clings to him and stumbles along, damp lips pressing to Harvey’s jaw and clever tongue swirling just below his ear.
Harvey scoops him up just to toss him down onto the sofa, smirking when Mike gasps and bounces a little on the firm cushions. His legs are splayed open and he props himself up on his elbows, head tipped back to expose the slender curve of his neck.
“Clothes off,” Harvey commands. “Now.”
Mike scrambles to unbutton his pants, all eagerness and no finesse, and Harvey rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. He grabs the end of Mike’s tie and wraps the cheap fabric around his fist as he climbs onto the sofa, knee pressing in between Mike’s thighs. His pants get thrown to the floor in a careless sort of way that would make Harvey cringe if they weren’t so goddamn cheap in the first place.
Mike’s fingers start picking at the loosened knot of his tie and Harvey slaps them away, tugging on the tie and raising a brow in warning. Mike swallows hard and unbuttons his shirt instead, wriggling out of it and his jacket, pushing them to the floor without Harvey letting go of his tie. That leaves him spread out at Harvey’s mercy, tie fisted in his hand like a leash.
“When I told you to take off your clothes, I meant all of them.” Harvey tugs on the tie again and looks pointedly at Mike’s underwear before flicking his gaze back up to Mike’s face. He actually blushes, color spilling down from his hairline, his neck and chest flushing with it.
“I’ve got to make you work for it at least a little,” Mike says breathlessly, and Harvey doesn’t miss the way Mike’s cock jumps in his shorts when he pulls on the tie again. How interesting.
“What do you want, Mike?” Harvey’s tongue feels too big for his mouth and his dick is pressing uncomfortably against the fly of his jeans, so hard, all for this skinny kid with the pretty mouth. Mike licks his lips and Harvey zeroes in on it like a hawk, watching the tip of his candy-pink tongue get that damned mouth all wet.
“I want to suck your dick,” Mike says with pretty strong conviction for someone who’s blushing as brightly as he is. Harvey only blinks, doesn’t let Mike know how much he affects him. “Come on, Harvey. I’ve seen the way you look at my mouth. You’re doing it right now.”
Harvey clears his throat and looks up at Mike’s eyes, dark saved for the ring of icy blue around his pupils. Harvey doesn’t deny it. He just pulls on Mike’s tie hard enough to give him the hint to sit up, and Mike takes it upon himself to grab Harvey by the hips and push him down onto the sofa.
“This is a good look for you,” Mike says as he straddles Harvey’s lap and tugs at the hem of his shirt. “But I bet naked’s a really good look for you, so, off.”
Harvey doesn’t make a move and Mike rolls his eyes, mumbling something about Harvey being a toppy bastard as he pulls his shirts up over his head. There’s an unfortunate moment where he has to let go of Mike’s tie, but then he’s shirtless and Mike’s in his lap. He takes the tie and tugs it again, and there’s a moment where Mike just looks at him, fingers brushing his hair back as he leans in for a kiss.
Mike hums and then kisses his way across Harvey’s jaw and down his neck, trailing wet kisses across his chest and down the center of his stomach. Harvey’s eyes trace the curve of his spine, brows knitting together when what should be a nice view of his ass is obscured by thin grey cotton.
Harvey slaps the fleshy part of Mike’s ass with his free hand and then snaps, tugging on the tie again. “I told you to take these off,” he growls, and Mike pants against his stomach. He reaches back instantly to push them down over his hips and Harvey squeezes the skin left pink by his smack. Mike wriggles out of his underwear without giving up his position on all fours, mouth still moving slickly against Harvey’s stomach, and he raises a curious brow. “Good boy,” he purrs, and Mike shivers.
Now this he can work with.
“C’mon.” Harvey slides his hand up Mike’s flank and curls it under his jaw, thumbing at his swollen bottom lip. “Show me what this smart mouth can do, huh? Bet it’ll look real pretty wrapped around my dick.”
Harvey wraps Mike’s tie around his fist a few more times, sliding the knot around to the back of his neck as Mike’s fingers fumble over his button fly. He makes a soft noise of surprise when he finds that Harvey isn’t wearing any underwear and pulls his cock out almost reverently, wrapping his fingers around the base as he leans in to flatten his tongue against the sticky-shiny head.
Harvey sighs at the contact and Mike looks up at him, blue eyes big and wide, and Harvey nods once. He pulls the tie down towards his lap and Mike just… opens up, letting Harvey sink easily into the warm, wet clutch of his mouth. Harvey bites his lip, settling back against the arm of the couch a bit and pressing the hand with the tie wrapped around it to the side of Mike’s face.
Mike is good at this. Not to say that Mike isn’t good at everything he does, except for maybe not caring and listening to Harvey, but both of those things got him where he is now, so he isn’t complaining. Mike braces himself with one hand on Harvey’s denim-clad thigh, the wings of his shoulders dipping and rolling as he ducks his head to take him even deeper. Mike’s other hand is fisted around the rigid spine of Harvey’s cock, twisting as he pulls it up to meet the tight ring of his lips in a wonderfully maddening pace.
Harvey starts to rock his hips up and Mike moans encouragingly, fingers digging into Harvey’s thigh. And then he does this - this thing with his tongue, a little swoop around the head that makes Harvey moan embarrassingly loud. Mike hums and still manages to sound smug, even with his bare ass in the air and his mouth stuffed full of cock.
“Get on with it,” Harvey growls, yanking on the tie hard enough to make Mike hiss a little. His eyes open to watch Harvey’s face and he looks almost awed, like blowing his boss is something he’s always dreamed of, and it makes Harvey feel powerful. It makes him feel something else too, way down low in his belly, and he puts his hand on Mike’s cheek, thumbing at the stretched-raw corner of his mouth. “I’m real close. You gonna swallow for me?”
Mike curls his tongue underneath the head of his cock and nods, looking up with such an eager expression as he starts to jack his fist even faster. Harvey hisses, breathy little moans escaping his lips as his hips jerk up. He grabs the sides of Mike’s face in both hands, pulling the tie taut as he comes with a sharp cry. Mike moans and slows his strokes, swallowing every drop and pressing soft, suckling kisses to the sensitive head.
“You’re just an expert in everything, aren’t you?” Harvey’s breathless and Mike grins proudly, mouth and chin all slick with come and spit. Harvey curls his fingers under Mike’s chin and draws him up for a kiss. It’s wet and filthy, Mike opening his mouth wide against Harvey’s so he can lick the taste of himself off of Mike’s tongue. Harvey pulls Mike into his lap and they kiss until Harvey’s lips feel raw and clumsy and Mike’s whimpering, rutting desperately against Harvey’s stomach.
Harvey takes pity on him and surges forward, pushing Mike back down onto the sofa and lying on top of him. He kicks his jeans off and pushes Mike’s thighs apart, moaning throatily when Mike’s hard cock brushes the swell of his balls.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” Harvey says, smirking when Mike’s face falls. “Not tonight, anyway.”
“You owe me something,” Mike says, wrapping his legs tantalizingly around Harvey’s narrow waist. “That was one hell of a blowjob.”
“You certainly proved yourself.” Harvey smirks and slides two of his own fingers in his mouth, getting them wet with spit. Mike’s eyes widen and he spreads his legs even further, pulling his hips back to make room. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
“Please, dude,” Mike whines, straining up to press a wet kiss to Harvey’s jaw. “I’m dying here.”
Harvey pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a pop and reaches between Mike’s legs, brushing his cock with the inside of his wrist.
“What did I say,” Harvey starts, circling Mike’s tight, puckered hole with the tip of his middle finger, “about calling me dude?”
“Please,” Mike breathes, and then he smirks in a way that makes Harvey fear for his life. “Sir. Mr. Specter.”
“You little shit,” Harvey growls and sinks his finger into Mike all the way to the knuckle, twisting it sharply once it’s buried. Mike practically keens, back arching up as he clutches at Harvey’s shoulders. “You like that?”
“Y-yes, dickhead, of course.” Harvey chuckles and rolls his hips, letting Mike’s cock slip through the groove of his hip. Mike gets the picture quick enough, sliding his hands down to Harvey’s hips and pulling them down. Harvey has two fingers in his ass, moving slickly in and out, and Mike’s rolling his hips like he’s dying for it.
“Christ, look at you.” Mike’s face is pink, mouth bitten-red, eyes dark as ink as he stares wantonly up at Harvey. He finds Mike’s prostate and rubs at it with the tips of his fingers, and Mike’s answering cry is almost enough for him to get it up again, spent cock twitching interestedly against Mike’s stomach. “Gonna come for me, Ross? Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“You fucking - let’s see how goddamn cocky you are when you’re balls deep inside me,” Mike grits out, and Harvey just grins and presses his fingers in deeper. “Ah! Shit, shit, Harvey. I’m gonna - “
Mike wraps an arm around Harvey’s neck and pulls him down, crushing their mouths together in a needy kiss before he tosses his head back and shouts. His whole body freezes for a split-second and then he’s coming in thick, messy spurts against Harvey’s hip.
“Good boy,” Harvey says again, and Mike whimpers as he collapses against the cushions. He’s trembling, thighs lax and quivering on either side of Harvey’s hips, and he covers Mike’s body like a blanket. “Careful, rookie. If you get come on my sofa I’m making you buy me a new one.”
“Affluent kitten,” Mike mumbles, pink lips tugged up into a lazy smirk. His eyes slip shut and he lets out a long, slow breath, palm pressed flat between Harvey’s shoulder blades. Harvey just looks down at him, losing track of how many seconds he wastes just staring quietly until Mike’s eyes flutter open again. “Please don’t tell me that this is the part where you kick me out, because I don’t think my ego or my ass could take it right now.”
“I’m not done with you quite yet,” Harvey says fondly, and Mike smiles sleepily. “Come on, let’s see if we can make it to the bed.”
Harvey sits up and pulls Mike’s tie over his head, smiling a little at the barely visible ring left around his neck. He uses it to mop up the come because it’s a cheap piece of shit anyway, and Mike only lets out a disbelieving scoff before rolling off of the sofa to stand on shaky legs.
“Hey, you own Casablanca, right?” Mike asks, looking at Harvey critically as he stretches his arms over his head. Harvey get’s distracted by the long line of his pale, lean body for a moment, and then looks back up at his face.
“Of course I do,” Harvey tells him. “What kind of a question is that?”
“Just making sure.” Mike smirks and takes a step backwards in the direction of Harvey’s bedroom. “Can’t fuck a dude who doesn’t own Casablanca.”
“Call me dude one more time, and I swear -“
“What, you’ll punish me?” Mike’s brows quirk up like a challenge and Harvey just stares at him. Mike smiles and traipses over to the bedroom, grabbing the door frame and swinging around it before looking over his shoulder. “Come on then, dude.”
Harvey’s lips curl up into a smirk and he surges forward, ducking into the bedroom after his smart-mouthed associate.
Harvey Specter deals in facts, and now he has another to add to the ever-growing list. He’ll know what Mike Ross’ ass feels like around his dick by morning.
And if he’s good, he might even get pancakes afterward.
[end]
Title: in vino fuckitas
Author: _mournthewicked
Pairing: Mike/Harvey [Suits]
Rating: Adult.
Word Count: ~ 3,400
Summary: It wasn't like Harvey exactly planned on them ending up in bed together, but Mike showing up at his place with his stupidly smart, impossibly pink mouth sort of blew that idea right out of the water.
Notes: First Suits fic, yay! This takes place during 106 - Tricks of the Trade. Thanks to mclachlan for coercing cheerleading and kamikaze_redux for the beta! ♥
Harvey Specter prides himself on only ever dealing in facts, never emotions. Emotions aren’t valuable currency. They’re messy and unpredictable, but facts? They’re reliable; rock-hard solid fact never changes.
Here are the current facts as Harvey sees them:
1) It’s 11 PM.
2) He’s about three glasses of wine deep.
3) Mike Ross is at his door.
4) Mike Ross is very drunk.
5) Mike Ross’ mouth is impossibly pink.
“Don’t ever call me dude,” Harvey says, because he can’t let Mike just go around saying whatever the hell he wants with that stupid pink mouth, even if it does dredge up memories of sexually curious frat boys and dirty mouths made even pinker.
Harvey blinks and refocuses on Mike’s eyes, which are stupidly blue. Jesus, what is it with this kid?
Mike’s rambling about something, jealous of Harvey’s opulence, blah blah, and then suddenly he finds himself saying, “Remind me to have Donna get you a spare key,” and he’s not even sure if he’s kidding. That’s when he knows he needs to end this.
Mike hands over his ill-gotten gains with a drunken flourish, and Harvey goes to shut the door in his face. Only Mike doesn’t let him. He slips inside his goddamn apartment with a grace that someone at his level of intoxication should not be able to muster up. Harvey finds himself blinking at his closed door and wondering what the hell just happened.
“Your hair,” Mike says, pink mouth slack and blue eyes north of Harvey’s forehead. “It looks soft. Can I touch it?”
“What? No, you cannot - “
“I’m so touching it.” And then Mike’s all up in his space, breathing hot against Harvey’s cheek as he reaches up with a stupid grin and slides his slender fingers right into his hair, thumb skimming the mole above his brow. “Oh man, I was right. This is so soft. You’re like an incredibly affluent kitten.”
“I will not hesitate to kick your ass, Mike.”
“Meeeeow.” Harvey rolls his eyes and grabs Mike by the elbow, but he jerks his arm away. “No, stop, I’m not done.”
“Stop touching me or you’re fired.”
“As if you would ever,” Mike replies, smirking in that cocky Mike Ross way of his while he combs his fingers through Harvey’s hair and goddamnit, it feels kind of nice. “Meow.”
“Stop that.” But then Harvey closes his eyes and kind of leans into it, because he’s not exactly sober himself, and he can practically hear Mike’s smug grin.
“Aww, see? You like it.”
“Do not,” Harvey mumbles, but then Mike’s thumb makes a wide arch across his forehead and he curls Harvey’s hair around his fingers and tugs - just a little, just enough to make his belly tighten. “Mike,” he warns. He isn’t exactly sure what he’s warning him against, but all it does is make him move closer.
“You like me,” Mike whispers, and then those stupid, impossibly pink lips are pressing against the corner of his mouth, all soft but sure, clinging damply as he lets out a soft hum.
Harvey knows that he should stop this. Mike’s drunk, and Harvey is a gentleman. He never takes advantage of a lady, or in this case, a stupidly not-stupid frat boy of an associate, when they’ve had too much to drink. But that’s not even the main reason. Mike makes him feel things that Harvey knows he shouldn’t, and that just can’t stand. Emotions are bad.
“Mike,” he says against his mouth, and he sort of wants to pull back just to look and see how pink it is. Mike just shakes his head, curling his hands around the back of Harvey’s neck and holding him still.
And then Mike kisses him, and yeah, his lips are as soft as they look. Harvey just stands there, doesn’t touch him or kiss him back, and then Mike lets out a long, drawn out meooow right into his mouth. Oh, that is it.
He grabs Mike by the hips and spins him around, pushing him up against the door and holding him there as he kisses him. Mike hums happily, arms looping around Harvey’s shoulders as he tips his head up and opens his mouth. Harvey licks his way inside, tastes alcohol on Mike’s tongue, and groans deep in his throat when Mike’s hips rock up underneath him.
“Shit.” Harvey pulls back and Mike whimpers, fingers curling in the soft fabric of Harvey’s shirt. “There’s an incredibly long list of reasons why this is a bad idea, and the fact that you’re drunk is at the tippy top.”
“I’m not drunk!” Mike scoffs like the very idea is absurd, like his eyes aren’t glassy and his cheeks aren’t flushed. And his lips, son of a bitch, have gone from pink and puffy to red and swollen and Harvey just wants to suck on them until they’re dark and bruised. “I’m not even close to drunk.”
“You’re a shit liar.”
“Name an amendment,” Mike says, fingers stroking the back of Harvey’s neck like this is something they do every day. “C’mon, pick one.”
“Eighteen.” Harvey realizes that he’s grinning after it’s too late to stop it, and Mike smirks up at him, fingers brushing the short hair at the base of his skull.
“After one year from the ratification of this article the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors within, the importation thereof into, or the exportation thereof from the United States and all territory subject to the jurisdiction thereof for beverage purposes is hereby prohibited,” Mike rambles off, eyes half-lidded like he’s bored with it all. “Shit law.”
Harvey just hums and curls his fingers a little tighter around the bony spurs of Mike’s hips, but otherwise doesn’t move. Here’s a new fact: Mike reciting constitutional amendments with a thick, lazy tongue is one hell of a turn-on.
Mike leans in, mouth brushing the swell of Harvey’s lower lip as he continues. “Ratified January 16th, 1919 and repealed on December 5th, 1933 with the ratification of the 21st Amendment, which states, the eighteenth article - ”
Harvey shuts him up with a kiss, taking advantage of Mike’s gasp by pushing his tongue between his lips to lick the back of his teeth. Mike moans softly as Harvey tugs his cheap, ill-fitting shirt out of his pants so he can get his hands on the soft skin underneath, fingers slipping across his flat belly to grab at the curve of his hip.
“You’re too smart for your own goddamn good, you know that?” Mike just smiles, lips stretched wide, all red and shiny. Harvey bites down on Mike’s lower lip and tugs gently, never looking away from his wide blue eyes. “Never know when to shut your mouth.”
“Looks like you like my mouth, Harvey,” Mike says, just to prove Harvey’s point. And there’s that smirk again, the one Harvey wants to wipe right off his face.
“Come on.” Harvey spins them around and grabs Mike ass, half-carrying and half-dragging him over to the sofa. Mike just clings to him and stumbles along, damp lips pressing to Harvey’s jaw and clever tongue swirling just below his ear.
Harvey scoops him up just to toss him down onto the sofa, smirking when Mike gasps and bounces a little on the firm cushions. His legs are splayed open and he props himself up on his elbows, head tipped back to expose the slender curve of his neck.
“Clothes off,” Harvey commands. “Now.”
Mike scrambles to unbutton his pants, all eagerness and no finesse, and Harvey rolls his eyes in fond exasperation. He grabs the end of Mike’s tie and wraps the cheap fabric around his fist as he climbs onto the sofa, knee pressing in between Mike’s thighs. His pants get thrown to the floor in a careless sort of way that would make Harvey cringe if they weren’t so goddamn cheap in the first place.
Mike’s fingers start picking at the loosened knot of his tie and Harvey slaps them away, tugging on the tie and raising a brow in warning. Mike swallows hard and unbuttons his shirt instead, wriggling out of it and his jacket, pushing them to the floor without Harvey letting go of his tie. That leaves him spread out at Harvey’s mercy, tie fisted in his hand like a leash.
“When I told you to take off your clothes, I meant all of them.” Harvey tugs on the tie again and looks pointedly at Mike’s underwear before flicking his gaze back up to Mike’s face. He actually blushes, color spilling down from his hairline, his neck and chest flushing with it.
“I’ve got to make you work for it at least a little,” Mike says breathlessly, and Harvey doesn’t miss the way Mike’s cock jumps in his shorts when he pulls on the tie again. How interesting.
“What do you want, Mike?” Harvey’s tongue feels too big for his mouth and his dick is pressing uncomfortably against the fly of his jeans, so hard, all for this skinny kid with the pretty mouth. Mike licks his lips and Harvey zeroes in on it like a hawk, watching the tip of his candy-pink tongue get that damned mouth all wet.
“I want to suck your dick,” Mike says with pretty strong conviction for someone who’s blushing as brightly as he is. Harvey only blinks, doesn’t let Mike know how much he affects him. “Come on, Harvey. I’ve seen the way you look at my mouth. You’re doing it right now.”
Harvey clears his throat and looks up at Mike’s eyes, dark saved for the ring of icy blue around his pupils. Harvey doesn’t deny it. He just pulls on Mike’s tie hard enough to give him the hint to sit up, and Mike takes it upon himself to grab Harvey by the hips and push him down onto the sofa.
“This is a good look for you,” Mike says as he straddles Harvey’s lap and tugs at the hem of his shirt. “But I bet naked’s a really good look for you, so, off.”
Harvey doesn’t make a move and Mike rolls his eyes, mumbling something about Harvey being a toppy bastard as he pulls his shirts up over his head. There’s an unfortunate moment where he has to let go of Mike’s tie, but then he’s shirtless and Mike’s in his lap. He takes the tie and tugs it again, and there’s a moment where Mike just looks at him, fingers brushing his hair back as he leans in for a kiss.
Mike hums and then kisses his way across Harvey’s jaw and down his neck, trailing wet kisses across his chest and down the center of his stomach. Harvey’s eyes trace the curve of his spine, brows knitting together when what should be a nice view of his ass is obscured by thin grey cotton.
Harvey slaps the fleshy part of Mike’s ass with his free hand and then snaps, tugging on the tie again. “I told you to take these off,” he growls, and Mike pants against his stomach. He reaches back instantly to push them down over his hips and Harvey squeezes the skin left pink by his smack. Mike wriggles out of his underwear without giving up his position on all fours, mouth still moving slickly against Harvey’s stomach, and he raises a curious brow. “Good boy,” he purrs, and Mike shivers.
Now this he can work with.
“C’mon.” Harvey slides his hand up Mike’s flank and curls it under his jaw, thumbing at his swollen bottom lip. “Show me what this smart mouth can do, huh? Bet it’ll look real pretty wrapped around my dick.”
Harvey wraps Mike’s tie around his fist a few more times, sliding the knot around to the back of his neck as Mike’s fingers fumble over his button fly. He makes a soft noise of surprise when he finds that Harvey isn’t wearing any underwear and pulls his cock out almost reverently, wrapping his fingers around the base as he leans in to flatten his tongue against the sticky-shiny head.
Harvey sighs at the contact and Mike looks up at him, blue eyes big and wide, and Harvey nods once. He pulls the tie down towards his lap and Mike just… opens up, letting Harvey sink easily into the warm, wet clutch of his mouth. Harvey bites his lip, settling back against the arm of the couch a bit and pressing the hand with the tie wrapped around it to the side of Mike’s face.
Mike is good at this. Not to say that Mike isn’t good at everything he does, except for maybe not caring and listening to Harvey, but both of those things got him where he is now, so he isn’t complaining. Mike braces himself with one hand on Harvey’s denim-clad thigh, the wings of his shoulders dipping and rolling as he ducks his head to take him even deeper. Mike’s other hand is fisted around the rigid spine of Harvey’s cock, twisting as he pulls it up to meet the tight ring of his lips in a wonderfully maddening pace.
Harvey starts to rock his hips up and Mike moans encouragingly, fingers digging into Harvey’s thigh. And then he does this - this thing with his tongue, a little swoop around the head that makes Harvey moan embarrassingly loud. Mike hums and still manages to sound smug, even with his bare ass in the air and his mouth stuffed full of cock.
“Get on with it,” Harvey growls, yanking on the tie hard enough to make Mike hiss a little. His eyes open to watch Harvey’s face and he looks almost awed, like blowing his boss is something he’s always dreamed of, and it makes Harvey feel powerful. It makes him feel something else too, way down low in his belly, and he puts his hand on Mike’s cheek, thumbing at the stretched-raw corner of his mouth. “I’m real close. You gonna swallow for me?”
Mike curls his tongue underneath the head of his cock and nods, looking up with such an eager expression as he starts to jack his fist even faster. Harvey hisses, breathy little moans escaping his lips as his hips jerk up. He grabs the sides of Mike’s face in both hands, pulling the tie taut as he comes with a sharp cry. Mike moans and slows his strokes, swallowing every drop and pressing soft, suckling kisses to the sensitive head.
“You’re just an expert in everything, aren’t you?” Harvey’s breathless and Mike grins proudly, mouth and chin all slick with come and spit. Harvey curls his fingers under Mike’s chin and draws him up for a kiss. It’s wet and filthy, Mike opening his mouth wide against Harvey’s so he can lick the taste of himself off of Mike’s tongue. Harvey pulls Mike into his lap and they kiss until Harvey’s lips feel raw and clumsy and Mike’s whimpering, rutting desperately against Harvey’s stomach.
Harvey takes pity on him and surges forward, pushing Mike back down onto the sofa and lying on top of him. He kicks his jeans off and pushes Mike’s thighs apart, moaning throatily when Mike’s hard cock brushes the swell of his balls.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” Harvey says, smirking when Mike’s face falls. “Not tonight, anyway.”
“You owe me something,” Mike says, wrapping his legs tantalizingly around Harvey’s narrow waist. “That was one hell of a blowjob.”
“You certainly proved yourself.” Harvey smirks and slides two of his own fingers in his mouth, getting them wet with spit. Mike’s eyes widen and he spreads his legs even further, pulling his hips back to make room. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
“Please, dude,” Mike whines, straining up to press a wet kiss to Harvey’s jaw. “I’m dying here.”
Harvey pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a pop and reaches between Mike’s legs, brushing his cock with the inside of his wrist.
“What did I say,” Harvey starts, circling Mike’s tight, puckered hole with the tip of his middle finger, “about calling me dude?”
“Please,” Mike breathes, and then he smirks in a way that makes Harvey fear for his life. “Sir. Mr. Specter.”
“You little shit,” Harvey growls and sinks his finger into Mike all the way to the knuckle, twisting it sharply once it’s buried. Mike practically keens, back arching up as he clutches at Harvey’s shoulders. “You like that?”
“Y-yes, dickhead, of course.” Harvey chuckles and rolls his hips, letting Mike’s cock slip through the groove of his hip. Mike gets the picture quick enough, sliding his hands down to Harvey’s hips and pulling them down. Harvey has two fingers in his ass, moving slickly in and out, and Mike’s rolling his hips like he’s dying for it.
“Christ, look at you.” Mike’s face is pink, mouth bitten-red, eyes dark as ink as he stares wantonly up at Harvey. He finds Mike’s prostate and rubs at it with the tips of his fingers, and Mike’s answering cry is almost enough for him to get it up again, spent cock twitching interestedly against Mike’s stomach. “Gonna come for me, Ross? Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“You fucking - let’s see how goddamn cocky you are when you’re balls deep inside me,” Mike grits out, and Harvey just grins and presses his fingers in deeper. “Ah! Shit, shit, Harvey. I’m gonna - “
Mike wraps an arm around Harvey’s neck and pulls him down, crushing their mouths together in a needy kiss before he tosses his head back and shouts. His whole body freezes for a split-second and then he’s coming in thick, messy spurts against Harvey’s hip.
“Good boy,” Harvey says again, and Mike whimpers as he collapses against the cushions. He’s trembling, thighs lax and quivering on either side of Harvey’s hips, and he covers Mike’s body like a blanket. “Careful, rookie. If you get come on my sofa I’m making you buy me a new one.”
“Affluent kitten,” Mike mumbles, pink lips tugged up into a lazy smirk. His eyes slip shut and he lets out a long, slow breath, palm pressed flat between Harvey’s shoulder blades. Harvey just looks down at him, losing track of how many seconds he wastes just staring quietly until Mike’s eyes flutter open again. “Please don’t tell me that this is the part where you kick me out, because I don’t think my ego or my ass could take it right now.”
“I’m not done with you quite yet,” Harvey says fondly, and Mike smiles sleepily. “Come on, let’s see if we can make it to the bed.”
Harvey sits up and pulls Mike’s tie over his head, smiling a little at the barely visible ring left around his neck. He uses it to mop up the come because it’s a cheap piece of shit anyway, and Mike only lets out a disbelieving scoff before rolling off of the sofa to stand on shaky legs.
“Hey, you own Casablanca, right?” Mike asks, looking at Harvey critically as he stretches his arms over his head. Harvey get’s distracted by the long line of his pale, lean body for a moment, and then looks back up at his face.
“Of course I do,” Harvey tells him. “What kind of a question is that?”
“Just making sure.” Mike smirks and takes a step backwards in the direction of Harvey’s bedroom. “Can’t fuck a dude who doesn’t own Casablanca.”
“Call me dude one more time, and I swear -“
“What, you’ll punish me?” Mike’s brows quirk up like a challenge and Harvey just stares at him. Mike smiles and traipses over to the bedroom, grabbing the door frame and swinging around it before looking over his shoulder. “Come on then, dude.”
Harvey’s lips curl up into a smirk and he surges forward, ducking into the bedroom after his smart-mouthed associate.
Harvey Specter deals in facts, and now he has another to add to the ever-growing list. He’ll know what Mike Ross’ ass feels like around his dick by morning.
And if he’s good, he might even get pancakes afterward.
[end]