In My Tent
Title: In My Tent
Author: bballgirl3022
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Harvey/Mike
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Frottage
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the recognizable characters in this piece of fiction. And I am most certainly not making a profit from this.
Summary: Harvey can’t sleep and invades Mike’s tent.
Word Count: 849
Notes: 5 Acts fill for sycophantastic Harvey/Mike forced proximity
Thanks to mmoonofblindnessfor the beta work. All other mistakes are my own.
In My Tent
“Harvey? What the hell are you doing in my tent?” Mike doesn’t mind sharing his crappy Wal-Mart tent, but he assumes Harvey has a pop-up hotel suite.
“Louis snores,” is his boss’s response as Harvey zips up the flap he just entered through. “You got another sleeping bag in here?”
“I. What? No,” Mike stammers. He’s in the woods on a camping trip with the firm. Mike brought his own tent, because he had one from when his parents used to take him camping as a kid. It’s pretty small, but he fits quite comfortably in it by himself.
“Shove over then,” Harvey commands and Mike obeys without much conscious thought as Harvey yanks the zipper on Mike’s sleeping bag down. He slides fluidly inside and Mike is a little in awe of how graceful Harvey is all the time.
Mike frowns a little at Harvey’s attire. He figured Harvey couldn’t wear suits all the time, and got an eye witness account that one time he showed up drunk at Harvey’s door. His memories of that night are foggy at best which is unfortunate because Harvey quite possibly looked extremely wonderful all casually dressed.
Harvey’s hair probably smells really good. His boss most likely uses some expensive shampoo that smells both clean and masculine and not at all like Mike’s crappy corner drug store brand. He could probably smell it now if he wanted to, what with Harvey invading his sleeping space and all.
“Why are you here,” Mike questions because Harvey may be an expert at getting the truth from clients, but he’s severely lacking in explaining his reasoning behind his actions.
“I told you,” Harvey says, his voice laced with exasperation and an eye roll that is clearly implied. “Louis snores. Quite loudly actually. Now shut it so I can get some sleep.”
“So you said. But why my tent?”
Harvey doesn’t dignify that question with a response. He only maneuvers to make himself more comfortable. His boss doesn’t make any more noise and Mike can only assume Harvey has fallen asleep and Mike follows him into dreamland shortly after.
Mike can’t understand why it’s so hot. He feels feverish, but he could have sworn it wasn’t supposed to be more than fifty degrees out. And when did his sleeping bag get so small. Mike picked it out because it perfectly fit his tall, lanky frame. Maybe it shrunk in the wash. Maybe he should just open his eyes and make the heat go away.
“Don’t move,” says a husky voice in his ear. “Shit. Mike.” The not so subtle shift of hips against Mike’s ass bring back the previous night. Harvey invading his tent and then getting in Mike’s sleeping bag. And now apparently rutting shamelessly against Mike.
“I should stop,” comes Harvey’s sleep rough and wrecked voice. Mike presses back into the tiny thrusts of Harvey’s hips. Oh. That’s clearly a very interested cock back there creating sweet friction against Mike’s rear end.
“No,” Mike commands. His own length is taking an interest in the proceedings. Harvey’s hands frame his hips holding Mike in place as he continues.
Mike whimpers loudly. Harvey nips his neck before shushing his associate. “I got you.”
Harvey’s hand finds its way under Mike’s sleep shirt. Mike’s stomach flutters in response to the touch. His boss’s hands are surprisingly soft and lack the calluses of Mike’s own. The heated grip around his own aching member appreciates the touch of a hand that isn’t his own.
Another moan escapes his and the responding chuckle reverberates through his back and settles low in his belly.
Harvey is a tease as it turns out. He takes his time learning Mike’s cock in a way similar to how Mike memorizes obscure laws. A harsh tug follows barely there touches to the sensitive spot under the head. A thumb runs along the vein pulsing before a second slips down to tease between his thighs.
Somewhere between Harvey’s rolling hips and his wandering hand Mike’s mind short-circuits. Everything becomes hazy as the waves of pleasure start cresting closer and closer together. There’s no respite as they crash over and around him until Mike lets go and let’s himself drown in the pleasure. Harvey will save him. Mike knows he will.
Just as soon as Harvey drags himself to the surface, he groans somewhat pitifully. Mike would find it undignified if he cared about anything other than catching his breath and swallowing Harvey’s soul through his mouth.
This form of resuscitation isn’t really helping pull breath into his lungs, but it feels wonderful to taste the sweet temptation that Harvey Spector has proven to be since the day they meet.
It’s good to know Harvey has fallen too. Maybe they can both drag each other out into the light through many repeat performances.
“Please tell me you have spare pants,” Harvey mumbles around Mike’s insistent mouth.
“Why Harvey. Trying to get into my pants again so soon?” Harvey grumbles something incoherent. And Mike is reassured that their working relationship won’t be harmed by this turn of events.
Author: bballgirl3022
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Harvey/Mike
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Frottage
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the recognizable characters in this piece of fiction. And I am most certainly not making a profit from this.
Summary: Harvey can’t sleep and invades Mike’s tent.
Word Count: 849
Notes: 5 Acts fill for sycophantastic Harvey/Mike forced proximity
Thanks to mmoonofblindnessfor the beta work. All other mistakes are my own.
In My Tent
“Harvey? What the hell are you doing in my tent?” Mike doesn’t mind sharing his crappy Wal-Mart tent, but he assumes Harvey has a pop-up hotel suite.
“Louis snores,” is his boss’s response as Harvey zips up the flap he just entered through. “You got another sleeping bag in here?”
“I. What? No,” Mike stammers. He’s in the woods on a camping trip with the firm. Mike brought his own tent, because he had one from when his parents used to take him camping as a kid. It’s pretty small, but he fits quite comfortably in it by himself.
“Shove over then,” Harvey commands and Mike obeys without much conscious thought as Harvey yanks the zipper on Mike’s sleeping bag down. He slides fluidly inside and Mike is a little in awe of how graceful Harvey is all the time.
Mike frowns a little at Harvey’s attire. He figured Harvey couldn’t wear suits all the time, and got an eye witness account that one time he showed up drunk at Harvey’s door. His memories of that night are foggy at best which is unfortunate because Harvey quite possibly looked extremely wonderful all casually dressed.
Harvey’s hair probably smells really good. His boss most likely uses some expensive shampoo that smells both clean and masculine and not at all like Mike’s crappy corner drug store brand. He could probably smell it now if he wanted to, what with Harvey invading his sleeping space and all.
“Why are you here,” Mike questions because Harvey may be an expert at getting the truth from clients, but he’s severely lacking in explaining his reasoning behind his actions.
“I told you,” Harvey says, his voice laced with exasperation and an eye roll that is clearly implied. “Louis snores. Quite loudly actually. Now shut it so I can get some sleep.”
“So you said. But why my tent?”
Harvey doesn’t dignify that question with a response. He only maneuvers to make himself more comfortable. His boss doesn’t make any more noise and Mike can only assume Harvey has fallen asleep and Mike follows him into dreamland shortly after.
Mike can’t understand why it’s so hot. He feels feverish, but he could have sworn it wasn’t supposed to be more than fifty degrees out. And when did his sleeping bag get so small. Mike picked it out because it perfectly fit his tall, lanky frame. Maybe it shrunk in the wash. Maybe he should just open his eyes and make the heat go away.
“Don’t move,” says a husky voice in his ear. “Shit. Mike.” The not so subtle shift of hips against Mike’s ass bring back the previous night. Harvey invading his tent and then getting in Mike’s sleeping bag. And now apparently rutting shamelessly against Mike.
“I should stop,” comes Harvey’s sleep rough and wrecked voice. Mike presses back into the tiny thrusts of Harvey’s hips. Oh. That’s clearly a very interested cock back there creating sweet friction against Mike’s rear end.
“No,” Mike commands. His own length is taking an interest in the proceedings. Harvey’s hands frame his hips holding Mike in place as he continues.
Mike whimpers loudly. Harvey nips his neck before shushing his associate. “I got you.”
Harvey’s hand finds its way under Mike’s sleep shirt. Mike’s stomach flutters in response to the touch. His boss’s hands are surprisingly soft and lack the calluses of Mike’s own. The heated grip around his own aching member appreciates the touch of a hand that isn’t his own.
Another moan escapes his and the responding chuckle reverberates through his back and settles low in his belly.
Harvey is a tease as it turns out. He takes his time learning Mike’s cock in a way similar to how Mike memorizes obscure laws. A harsh tug follows barely there touches to the sensitive spot under the head. A thumb runs along the vein pulsing before a second slips down to tease between his thighs.
Somewhere between Harvey’s rolling hips and his wandering hand Mike’s mind short-circuits. Everything becomes hazy as the waves of pleasure start cresting closer and closer together. There’s no respite as they crash over and around him until Mike lets go and let’s himself drown in the pleasure. Harvey will save him. Mike knows he will.
Just as soon as Harvey drags himself to the surface, he groans somewhat pitifully. Mike would find it undignified if he cared about anything other than catching his breath and swallowing Harvey’s soul through his mouth.
This form of resuscitation isn’t really helping pull breath into his lungs, but it feels wonderful to taste the sweet temptation that Harvey Spector has proven to be since the day they meet.
It’s good to know Harvey has fallen too. Maybe they can both drag each other out into the light through many repeat performances.
“Please tell me you have spare pants,” Harvey mumbles around Mike’s insistent mouth.
“Why Harvey. Trying to get into my pants again so soon?” Harvey grumbles something incoherent. And Mike is reassured that their working relationship won’t be harmed by this turn of events.