Theories, Policies and Loopholes
Title: Theories, Policies and Loopholes
Fandom: Suits
Ship: Harvey/Mike
Rating: R/NC17
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own.
Summary: Despite how long they have known each other (over a year), despite how well they know each other (better than anyone), Mike can't remember the last time he and Harvey were genuinely alone. And because Harvey is the most important person in his life, his best friend really, Mike wants to know that what they have is real, that they can still be them when no one is watching. And he has this theory, barely constructed and ethereal at best, that maybe if they did spend some time alone together, that they would discover the true bounds of their relationship...
Authors Notes: I started writing this before ep 2x10 aired, so as awesome as the whole 'Harvey and Mike get high together' sequence was, for the purposes of this fic just pretend the events of that episode never happened. Having said that, this doesn't take place directly after 2x09 either - it's set a few months down the track from current canon.
Thanks to veritas_st for the once-over. Dedicated to my dear smartalli, because she is an amazing friend and has gone way above and beyond for me lately and she deserves all the fic.
Theories, Policies and Loopholes
It occurs to Mike for the first time that despite how much time he and Harvey spend together, they are never really alone.
They are at work, in Harvey's glass panelled office (with Donna listening to every word) or his open-air cubicle or walking down crowded hallways while whispering secrets that should really not be said within a mile radius of anyone at Pearson Hardman. They are meeting with clients and other lawyers, a never-ending series of conference rooms and offices that all end up looking the same. They are standing in front of a judge in a courtroom, being driven around the city by a chauffeur, dining with a client in a crowded restaurant, walking side by side in the chaotic city streets…
The point is, despite how long they have known each other (over a year), despite how well they know each other (better than anyone), Mike can't remember the last time they were genuinely alone. He racks his brain trying to come up with some example; surely there must have been some time they were alone together. There was the interview of course, those twenty minutes they spent challenging and testing each other, each trying to deem if the other was worthy. There have been a few instances where they were working so late that they were the last ones at the office. There have been the very occasional times where one went to the other's apartment, but that was really only for a few minutes to either fight or mock. But beyond that, there is nothing.
How is it possible that this man has become the most important person in his life, and yet he rarely spends more than ten minutes alone in his company? It doesn't seem right. You can't build a relationship so genuine and significant entirely in front of other people.
Now that the thought has taken residence in his mind he needs to do something about it. He doesn't know why, not entirely, but there is something in him that needs to know that this relationship can sustain in these new circumstances. That they can still be them when no one is watching.
He pounds on Harvey's condo door, ignores the older man's look of surprise when he opens the door, and just barges in without a word. He can practically hear Harvey's eye roll, but Harvey doesn't say anything, just follows him inside.
"Is anyone here?" Mike asks without preamble.
He can tell Harvey is surprised by the question (although whether from the actual question or his boldness Mike can't tell) but he isn't the best lawyer in town for nothing, and he schools his features before replying, "No."
"Are you expecting anyone?"
Harvey shakes his head slowly.
"Any plans for the evening?"
"Just working on the Rains case..."
Mike nods, exhales with relief. He looks around the room absently. He can feel some of the adrenalin starting to wear off now that he is here. Harvey remains silent, just watches him with an expression halfway between amused and curious. When Mike finally meets his gaze Harvey just quirks an eyebrow at him.
"Care to share what's going on?"
Now that he's here it feels ridiculous to say, to even think. But he can't back out now. "You and I are going to spend the next few hours here, alone together."
"And why are we going to do that?" Harvey asks, but he hasn't laughed or mocked so Mike is taking it for a win.
But Mike can't tell him. He can't say that Harvey is the most important person in his life, his best friend really, and he wants to know that what they have is real. He can't tell him that the idea that what they have only exists for the world to see is heartbreaking. He can't say that he has this theory, barely constructed and ethereal at best, that maybe if they did spend some time alone together, that they would discover the true bounds of their friendship.
"Please, Harvey," Mike says, his voice low. "Can we just do this, no questions asked?"
There must be something in his voice (Mike vainly hopes it's not desperation) that quells Harvey's enquiries. The older man nods, and Mike breathes free.
"Can I at least ask what it is we'll be doing?" Harvey asks as he goes into the kitchen to grab them both a drink.
In all honesty Mike hadn't gotten that far yet. The adrenalin pumped him up enough to get him here. He didn't really have a plan beyond that. He probably should have.
Mike shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe order a pizza, cheesy crust optional. Watch a DVD..."
"What is this, a date?" Harvey smirks.
"What? No! No, of course not. It's just ... hanging out. This is what friends do, isn't it?"
Mike really hopes the 'friend' comment will go unremarked upon. Because, really, he doesn't know how to label the relationship he and Harvey have. Are they friends? Colleagues? Boss and subordinate? All of the above, depending on the day and situation and Harvey's mood? Possibly more, again depending on the day and situation and Harvey's mood? And he feels like the friend comment is akin to waving a red flag in front of a bull. But he won't take it back now. He wants Harvey's friendship, wants Harvey to admit that he is Mike's friend too. And he is terrified that Harvey is going to brush him off, put him in his place, wherever that is (but definitely not on this side of the friends line).
Harvey stalks back into the lounge, hands Mike a beer. "As your friend, I need to tell you that there is no way in hell we are ordering a pizza with cheese in the crust."
Mike grins, relieved beyond words. He holds up his beer bottle for Harvey to tap with his, which he does. "Fair enough."
Mike takes a swig of his drink as Harvey retreats to the kitchen and pulls out a stack of menus from a drawer hidden beneath the counter. He sorts through them until he finds the menu for the nearest pizza joint.
"The usual?" Harvey asks as he dials the number on his cell.
Mike nods, turns around on the pretence of looking at Harvey's apartment to hide the fact that he is grinning like an idiot. It's such a small (and seemingly insignificant) thing, but Harvey knows his favorite pizza (the same way Mike knows his). Harvey knows Mike's junk food of choice to get through a long afternoon. Mike knows that something is wrong when Harvey plays his Charles Bradley & Menahan Street Band record. Harvey knows that Mike cares about everyone indiscriminately but trusts only a select few he deems worthy (even though he would say that most of the time they aren't). Mike knows that Harvey values honesty above all other qualities. They really do know each other.
"Alright, come on," Harvey says after he hangs up. Mike follows where Harvey leads. He has never made it past the lounge room on his previous visits, and he has no idea where Harvey is leading him.
Mike follows Harvey into a room down the hallway. His eyes go wide. He looks to Harvey, incredulous, and Harvey being the smug bastard that he is just smirks.
"Oh. My. God. Did I die? Is this heaven?"
Harvey chuckles as Mike slowly turns to take in every angle of Harvey's home theater room. Well, okay, it was really just a large room Harvey converted into a theater room, with its dark walls and thick curtains and massive flat screen and an entire fucking wall of DVDs, but still. Harvey has a fucking theater room.
Mike walks across the room to peruse Harvey's collection. It isn't as highbrow as he expected, although given the movie quotes they exchange on a daily basis he supposes that shouldn't have been a surprise. They aren't in any order he can discern, other than the occasional grouping where franchises were lined up, or little clusters of Hitchcock or Burton or Nicholas Cage or Simon Pegg. His fingertips trail along the cases as he explores.
"Rocky Horror Picture Show, Harvey? Really?"
"If you don't like Tim Curry I'm not sure we can be friends," Harvey tells him, settling himself on the couch.
"Ice Age 3?"
"I have to have something appropriate to show my niece and nephew when they're here. If you're thinking of choosing it I should warn you it's pretty lame."
Mike nods absently, lets the comment about watching a kids film go. He knew Harvey had a brother, but until this moment he had no idea he had a niece and nephew. The detail slipped so easily from Harvey, a casual comment that he tries not to overestimate. But he can't deny the way it settles him, hearing the admission about his family, so nonchalant, like it was perfectly natural to talk about their families, their everyday lives away from Pearson Hardman.
"Holy shit, you have every Star Trek that ever existed," Mike exclaims as he hits the Star Trek corner of the wall. Every movie, every TV series, Harvey has them all. "I mean, even the bad movies and terrible spinoffs."
"There are no bad movies or terrible spinoffs, thank you very much," Harvey says.
"I beg to differ. Deep Space Nine was fucking terrible."
Harvey raises an eyebrow, curious at Mike's sudden Star Trek knowledge. Mike just coughs awkwardly and returns his attention to the DVDs.
"You have the original Buffy movie," Mike says in disbelief.
"Are you actually going to choose something for us to watch or do I get to spend the evening listening to you mock my amazing DVD collection?"
Mike laughs, gives in. He starts looking in earnest now. "Batman?"
"Which one?"
"Whichever you like."
"Batman Begins it is."
Mike pops the DVD into the player as Harvey fiddles with the remotes and gets everything turned on and on the appropriate setting. Mike toes off his shoes and crashes down onto the sofa next to him. The couch is deep and soft; it takes up pretty much the entire length of the wall, and it could probably fit a half dozen people with ease, and yet Mike still sits down right next to Harvey. He settles in easily and soon enough the movie is playing.
It feels fucking weird. Mike never feels weird around Harvey, and is more than used to sitting in the same room with him while neither speaks, for hours on end. But this is different. Everything feels different. It's like the secret behind Mike's intentions for the evening and Harvey's confusion as to why Mike suddenly needed this so badly is poisoning the air between them. Mike tries not to fidget, refuses to look at Harvey, just keeps his eyes on the screen and hopes things improve.
About twenty minutes later the pizza arrives. Harvey brings it back into the theater room and they start eating. Mike makes a smartass comment about the pizza being awesome and how the only way it could be improved is if there was cheese in the crust. And Harvey comes back with a sarcastic reply and suddenly a semblance of normalcy returns.
They talk as they eat, giving their occasional attention to the movie in the small lulls of conversation, but it usually only lasts a minute or two before they start talking again.
"You know," Mike says conversationally, as on the screen at the other side of the room Bruce Wayne drunkenly rants at all his guests, "you never told me why you wanted to be a lawyer."
"I didn't," Harvey says. At Mike quirked eyebrow he elaborates with, "At least, not in the way you are implying. I didn't grow up wanting to be a lawyer."
"Then how-?"
"How did I end up being the best damn closer in the city?"
Mike laughs, but nods his head to ask him to continue.
"My childhood was ... I hesitate to use the word difficult, especially to you with everything you went through, but it wasn't easy. My parents, they had a lot going on in their own lives and marriage, and my brother and I kinda got forgotten about a lot. My childhood basically consisted of two things: my brother and baseball. And when baseball was no longer an option I went off the rails. Just a bit," Harvey hastily adds, before Mike can get in a comment about that, "and nowhere near where you went. But I was a screw-up. Jessica found me, gave me a job. She was amazing, so smart and powerful and in control. That's what I aspired to be."
Mike can't help but think of the parallels, how Jessica saved Harvey the same way Harvey saved him. "That was an amazing thing for her to do," Mike says, while actually thinking that was an amazing thing you did for me and I still can't believe it.
Harvey shrugs, like it's no big deal. "I guess so."
Mike looks away from Harvey, glances at the napkin his hands have been shredding in his lap. "Jessica is always going to detest me, isn't she?"
"What are you talking about?"
"No matter what happens, I'll always be the kid who put her firm in jeopardy. Who caused you to put her in danger. She'll never forgive me for that. And she'll certainly never trust me."
"Maybe, maybe not," Harvey shrugs. "But if I had to do the same thing again, I wouldn't do it any differently."
Mike can't help but look up at Harvey, smiling shyly. He knows Harvey trusts him, maybe even respects him, but the words are so rare. To hear any kind of verbal confirmation that Harvey doesn't regret hiring Mike, despite the multitude of complications it has brought to his life and the changes it has made to his other relationships, it's a powerful thing. Overwhelming, in fact. He wants to make Harvey proud, wants to make him happy, wants him to never regret the decision that brought them together. Because Mike knows, no matter what the future holds, even in the worst case scenario where he was found out and torn from this life (and therefore Harvey), he could never regret it either.
"You know, you never told me why you wanted to be a lawyer," Harvey says after a few moments, matching Mike's exact tone.
Mike chuckles. Of course Harvey wouldn't let that go. He takes a swig from his beer before returning to face Harvey.
"You know that my parents died in a car crash." At Harvey's nod, he continues with, "Well, what I didn't tell you was that the guy who did it, who was responsible, was drunk off alcohol given to him by a restaurant even after they knew he had too much. A few years later, when I realized we had a case against them, it was like a lightning bolt, and I knew then and there what I wanted to do."
"And did you? Sue the guy responsible?"
Mike shakes his head. "I wanted to, but Grammy, she wasn't up to it. I couldn't put her through that."
"I'm sorry, Mike," Harvey says, resting his hand gently on Mike's wrist.
They both remain silent for a few moments. "Wow," Mike exclaims at last, sitting that much straighter and shaking his head as though physically trying to remove his thoughts. "I can really bring a party down, can't I?" he laughs.
Harvey laughs with him, and Mike wants this back, this ease they have, so pulling a topic from thin air he asks, "So, tell me about your niece and nephew."
And Harvey does. He tells him their names (Hugo and Jayne), their ages (four and three), their little quirks (Hugo knows the names of a dozen dinosaurs but still refuses to use the proper word for things like 'water' and 'bedroom', every time Harvey visits their apartment Jayne will greet him with "Uncle Harvey, you came back, welcome to my home").
They keep talking. The credits of the movie are scrolling and they barely notice. And whenever Mike asks a question Harvey answers it. He is completely honest and open in a way he has never been before. He laughs, easily, the sound making Mike's heart skip. It's contagious, and soon all matter of things are extremely hilarious. Harvey's eyes crinkle. He tells stories, long and crazy anecdotes, gestures wildly and grins easily. He touches Mike, a hand to his arm for attention, a hand to his knee for emphasis.
The hours fly by. (At one point Harvey gets up to get them another drink and Mike takes the opportunity to put on a concert DVD because the never-ending loop of the Batman Begins menu screen was driving him crazy. Upon re-entering the room Harvey acknowledges the Simon & Garfunkel DVD with a, "Nice choice," before he continues with his story.) And the whole time, Mike can't help but think that it all just feels so fucking easy. It's like, being here together, alone within these four walls, that final barrier between them has come down. Mike doesn't even know what that barrier was, why it was there and how it's gone now, but it feels so great he doesn't dare question it.
Mike genuinely can't remember the last time he had this much fun. He doesn't know that he has ever had this much fun. He feels completely at home and in the moment, for once doesn't feel his mind thinking about five things at once. At this instant, all he can think about, all he can focus on, is Harvey.
He really likes work Harvey, but home Harvey, well, let's just say he feels a lot more for him. He loves how animated he is. He loves that they sit close enough for Mike to feel the warmth from his skin. He loves the way Harvey playfully shoves him when he doesn't believe whatever Mike has just told him. He loves the way their knees knock together when they shift on the couch to face each other better. He loves how they are both so desperate to talk that they will try and raise their voices to drown the other out, and that Harvey is the one that usually gives in first, with a smile and laugh as Mike pumps the air in victory.
Harvey is in the middle of a story from his Harvard days when it happens. He just looks so bright and animated and so fucking happy that Mike can't help but lean over and kiss him. It's brief, still, and then Mike suddenly realizes what he has done, how the moment and all the feelings expanding in his chest engulfed him and he did this really stupid thing.
He pulls back. Harvey doesn't say anything. He just looks at Mike, dazed and confused.
"Oh shit. Harvey, I'm so sorry. I did-"
But Mike is cut off by Harvey surging forward and kissing him. Mike makes a small noise of surprise before melting into the kiss. It's slow, exploratory. Harvey licks at his lips and Mike opens them, welcomes the deepening. Mike wants to feel closer, but they are on a weird angle, sitting side by side on the couch but turned to face each other, and their legs are in the way.
Mike breaks their kiss. Harvey looks almost heartbroken by it, which makes Mike grin. He gets up on his knees and throws a leg over Harvey. The older man straightens up, leans into the back of the sofa as Mike straddles his lap. Mike keeps himself raised on his knees, forcing Harvey to look up at him. A million thoughts run through Mike's brain as Harvey smiles lazily up at him. All the things he wants to do flash in his mind. At the top of the list is something he can do right here and now. He slides his fingers into Harvey's hair, runs them through a few times. Harvey closes his eyes at the touch, relaxed.
Mike takes advantage of being able to catch Harvey unaware and presses his mouth to his neck. Harvey's fingers fly to his hips, dig in as Mike slowly presses kisses to his stubbled skin. His tongue occasionally dips to taste his skin. It's slow. Mike wants to take his time, to not rush this. He wants this moment to last forever.
Harvey hums in approval when Mike slowly makes his way down Harvey's neck. He settles into Harvey's lap. His nimble fingers quickly unbutton the top few buttons on Harvey's shirt so he can get to his clavicle. He mouths at Harvey's skin for a few moments before making his way back up to his mouth. He kisses him, just once, the simple pressing of lips.
Mike reverently cups Harvey's face with his hands before his fingertips begin exploring. They trace his eyebrows, skirt over his moles, glide down his cheeks and over his lips. Harvey lets him explore, lies still and keeps his eyes closed, looking nothing short of completely relaxed.
Mike loves Harvey's face. He knows it so well now, has seen it for hours upon hours practically every day for the last year. He has seen the full spectrum of emotions expressed in these features. The how the fuck did that brain of yours come up with that solution? face. The I can't believe you are saying this to me but I respect that you have the balls to say it anyway face. The bitch, please face. He has seen Harvey confused and proud and pissed and surprised and pleased and amused and a million other emotions. But he has never seen Harvey turned on before, and he can't wait a moment longer.
When Mike's fingertips are done mapping his features, every contour committed to memory, his hands trail down his shirt where they resume their task from before. Undoing all the buttons is the work of a moment and when he looks back up he sees Harvey has his eyes open and fixed on him.
His lips quirk into a tentative smile. He leans forward, and Harvey assumes he is going in for a kiss so tilts his head up slightly, but Mike just bumps the tip of his nose against Harvey's. The older man laughs, free and easy.
Mike smiles, but looks away. He focuses on his hands, which rest on Harvey's stomach. He can feel Harvey's hands on his hips and Harvey's gaze on his face.
"Harvey..."
But he doesn't know what to say next. There are so many things he could tell him. Like how much he wants this, that a part of him has always wanted this from the moment they met. He could construct a confession that would trigger one in return from Harvey. He could ask exactly what it was Harvey wanted from him. He could say that he wants him harder and deeper than he has ever wanted anything in his life.
But no words appear. Maybe part of him is afraid that speaking those truths will break them out of this moment, will steal whatever courage got them to this point, bring reality crashing into the room, hard and fast. Or maybe he just doesn't know how to express himself, could never find enough words to adequately convey exactly what Harvey means to him.
In the end Harvey saves him, like he always does. He takes Mike's chin between his thumb and index finger, makes Mike meet his gaze. He just smiles at Mike, small but genuine and Mike wonders how many of his thoughts are obviously showing on his face. Harvey leans forward and kisses him. His hands are flat on his back, pushing them closer together. The kiss is insistent; Harvey pushing his tongue into Mike's mouth like it belongs there. For the first time, a sense of urgency overtakes them. Mike grounds down into Harvey's lap, desperate for more.
Harvey hands trail from Mike's back to his hips. His hands tangle with Mike's t-shirt and he sweeps his hands up Mike's sides, Mike raising his arms so Harvey can easily divest him of his tee. And then, in a move more swift and smooth than Mike has ever seen, Harvey wraps his arms around him and suddenly Mike has been flipped, now lying on his back with Harvey hovering above him. Mike laughs, kisses Harvey again.
But Harvey seems to have a plan of his own now. He presses his mouth to the hollow of Mike's chest, trails a series of open mouthed kisses down his stomach. It's slow, torturous. His hands splay wide over Mike's ribs. When he moves back up he detours to take a nipple into his mouth, the surprise causing Mike to arch up under him, a groan torn from his throat.
Mike is waiting for Harvey when he kisses him again. He pushes Harvey's shirt from his frame, Harvey helping as best he can without actually extracting himself from Mike. He drops the material onto the floor and wraps his legs around Harvey, wanting to get closer.
Harvey breaks their kiss, leaving them both breathless. He presses his forehead to Mike's. Mike can't stop touching, running his hands up and down his back.
"So, I guess it did kind of turn into a date in the end, huh?" Harvey says softly, and they both laugh.
"It would appear so. Unfortunately for you I have a firm no sex on the first date policy," Mike tells him.
Harvey tips his head back so he can look at Mike properly. Mike tries to keep a straight face under Harvey's scrutiny. The older man clearly isn't sure if Mike is joking, in which case that is so not funny, or if he is serious, in which case he is fucking frustrated.
A devilish smile lights his features. He slides off Mike (the couch is so deep that Mike can lie on his back and Harvey can fit into the space between the back cushions and Mike's body without danger of pushing Mike off), props his head up on the flat of his hand, doesn't touch Mike, just stares him down.
Mike feels the loss of contact like a physical blow. It's like he's an addict denied his favorite vice, and he knows Harvey is doing this on purpose. He is waiting for Mike to make the first move, to break first. It's a battle of wills Mike doesn't care about winning. All he cares about is feeling Harvey's skin against his own.
Mike groans in a resigned kind of way as he leans up and kisses Harvey, the older man laughing against his lips, victorious. The kiss is gentle, almost reverent. Their lips slide together easily, a slow dance so simple and easy Mike feels like they've been doing this all their lives. When Harvey pulls back he fixes Mike under his gaze.
"Are you sure that policy doesn't contain a loophole for guys you have known for over a year, who trust you wholeheartedly and want you more than they would like to admit?"
Mike is completely taken aback by the words. He doesn't react at first, doesn't know how, but then he smiles, his fingertips lightly caressing Harvey's stubbled cheek. And when his thumb brushes Harvey's lower lip Harvey takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the pad of his thumb.
"Actually, now that you mention it…" Mike grins.
Harvey grins in return. He manoeuvres himself back so he's atop Mike, knees digging into the couch on either side of Mike's thighs. He kisses Mike, presses a few quick kisses to his neck and chest before sitting back up and attacking Mike's belt and jeans. Mike doesn't waste time in luxuriating in the feeling of being undressed by Harvey. He's too desperate for that. There will be other times, hopefully lots and lots of other times, where he can savor the moment, can bask in the sight of Harvey stripping him bare. But for now, all he cares about is Harvey finishing his task so he can sit up and repeat the same on him.
Harvey remains kneeling and Mike sits, completely naked, reaching out to Harvey's jeans. He looks up at Harvey and the older man keeps their gazes locked as Mike undoes the button, pulls down the fly.
Mike will swear, under oath and attached to a polygraph, that this wasn't his intention. He didn't come here tonight for the sole purpose of ending the evening in Harvey's bed (or couch, as the case may be). But he also couldn't deny that when he considered the possible outcomes of him barging into Harvey's home that this option made it onto the list. But now that it is actually happening, now that they are going down this road, Mike wonders at the inevitability of it all.
Was this always meant to happen? Was this the point of everything - Trevor being a terrible friend and Jessica choosing Harvey and all those hundreds of decisions both big and small that led them here. He had always felt an instinctive pull towards Harvey, from the first moment they met, like there was a force bigger than the both of them involved, ensuring that they were both where they needed to be, with each other. But what if there wasn't? What if everything he and Harvey had, what if it wasn't destined? What if, somewhere along the way, he had turned left when he should have turned right, leading him down a path away from this?
Could he have known a life that didn't have Harvey in it?
The idea was terrifying. Now that he was here he couldn't imagine ever not wanting this. There was a part of him, buried deep inside somewhere, that needed Harvey. It sparked the moment they met, burned bigger and brighter as the months passed. It lit him up, moved him forward. And the idea that he could've missed out on that, being the man he was today, having Harvey in his life in any way shape or form, it knocked the wind from him.
The feel of Harvey's thumb brushing the arch of his cheek brings him back to the moment. He focuses, finds Harvey looking at him with worry.
"Are you okay?" he asks, brow knitted in concern.
"Yeah. Sorry. Zoned for a minute there."
Harvey just looks at him, the are you serious? screaming from his features, and Mike realizes how that must've sounded. That they were in the middle of having sex (well, about to be in the middle of having sex) and Mike got bored or distracted and let his mind wander.
"Oh, God, no, not like that," Mike stammers. "Shit. I just mean..."
"Yes," Harvey prompts when Mike doesn't continue.
Mike swallows. Could he really tell Harvey the truth? His hands are still on Harvey's jeans and he wants him so fucking much. "I was just thinking about ... well ... you."
Harvey grins, large and bold, the kind that makes his whole face light up. He briefly leans back on his heels and he kisses Mike quickly. "I'm right here, Mike. In case you want to do more than just think about me."
Mike laughs, playfully punching his arm. "Smartass," he says, completely without heat, because Harvey could have pressed for more or looked at him like he was an idiot or one of a thousand other things, but he didn't. He made a joke, teased Mike like he always does, so he could rid the room of tension, bring it back so it feels like it always does between them.
Harvey shrugs, pushing back up onto his knees. "You love me for it."
In lieu of an answer (he wasn't going to take the obvious bait) Mike finishes his task, pulling Harvey's jeans and underwear down in one single movement. Harvey playfully pushes Mike back down onto the couch, performing some kind of acrobatic action that removes all his clothes onto the floor and returns him to kneeling above Mike in one fluid motion.
Mike lies in wait, curious to see what Harvey does next. Harvey seems to consider him for about two seconds flat before he grins, crouching down between Mike's legs and slipping his cock into his mouth.
An electric shock of surprise flies through Mike's body at the first touch of Harvey's mouth. Harvey doesn't hesitate. He sucks in earnest, his cheeks hollowing with the action. One hand gently holds the base of Mike's cock while the other explores, skating over Mike's thighs, caressing his balls, slipping down his crack. It takes every ounce of energy Mike possesses to not thrust into Harvey's mouth. His body tenses with the control it takes. He forces his eyes from the ceiling, lifts his head so he can watch Harvey. The older man licks his shaft, engulfs him in his mouth, tongue swirling around him. Mike can't take the sight before him, the way Harvey moves around his cock, deep and wet.
"Harvey," Mike says, voice rough and thick with want.
Harvey looks up, seems to understand from Mike's plaintive expression, so he releases Mike's painfully hard cock, presses a series of kisses and licks to Mike's hip, stomach, chest and neck as he moves up the younger man's body. Mike is desperately awaiting Harvey's mouth on his and he doesn't disappoint, sweeping in for a deep kiss.
Harvey settles his body on Mike's. Mike can feel every inch of their skin where their naked bodies meet, pressed flush together, like they can't get close enough.
They just lie there and make out, for a long time, like that is the goal and not merely part of the journey. Mike kisses Harvey with more passion than he ever remembers exhibiting for anyone else. And the best part is that Harvey returns the embrace with wild abandon, kissing Mike like he is afraid that the moment they stop he will awake to find all this a dream. Mike can't believe how unhurried he feels. As much as he wants to fuck Harvey, and he does (preferably a lot and in every position imaginable), right now, if this was all that happened, it would be enough.
"I want you so much," Mike confesses between kisses, the words coming out in a rushed whisper before he claims Harvey's mouth once more.
Harvey chuckles, murmurs "You have me," against Mike's lips.
Mike reaches between their two bodies, Harvey lifting up enough to give him access. He wraps a hand around their cocks, gets his first touch of Harvey in his hand. Harvey moans into his mouth as Mike explores. It feels incredible, the contradiction of hard and smooth, the way Harvey bucks ever so slightly into his grasp. But Mike is desperate now, wants more, needs everything.
He withdraws his hand. And as if that was some silent signal, Harvey breaks their kiss and takes Mike's hand, the same one that was just exploring his own body, lacing their fingers together and pushing them into the soft sofa. Harvey braces his weight on his other forearm as he carefully aligns their bodies. He looks at Mike then, and when Mike tips his head just that tiniest bit Harvey thrusts, slow and shallow but with purpose, and Mike can't breathe.
The movements are slow at first, careful and steady. Mike's free hand makes its way to Harvey's ass, kneading the flesh he finds there. Every roll of Harvey's hip, every inch of movement as their cocks rub together, feels fucking incredible.
They look at each other the whole time. Their bodies begin moving in earnest, the pace quickening, skin becoming warm and slick with sweat, and they don't break, don't move, just stare right into each other's eyes. It's one of the most profound and important moments in Mike's life, looking up at Harvey, feeling their bodies move together like they were made for this.
He had wanted to see Harvey's face when he was turned on, and he sees it now, better than he ever imagined. Harvey looks so free, completely here in this moment with Mike, all his attention focused on Mike like he is the only thing that matters. They keep staring at each other, unblinking and unabashed.
Harvey's thrusts are rhythmic, hypnotic, but every so often he will change it up, press in that little bit harder, change the angle ever so slightly. Mike's breath hitches in his chest. A moan escapes his throat.
"Oh," Mike breaths. "Fuck."
Harvey grins down at him, repeating the same motion, pulling his name from Mike's lips. Mike's fingers, still entwined with Harvey's, grip tighter. Mike arches up, lifts his head slightly off the sofa and Harvey leans down and licks at his lips before favoring him with a quick kiss.
Mike's hand runs up and down Harvey's back a few times before he brings it back, skirting it between their bodies so he can lightly touch his fingertips to Harvey's cheek. Harvey's eyelids briefly flutter closed at the touch. Mike's hand settles on his neck, the pad of his thumb pressing into his pulse point, fingers wrapped around the back of his neck.
"Harvey," Mike says, the only word his brain can conjure at the moment. Harvey thrusts deep, speeds up, and Mike sees stars. "Oh God, right there."
Mike is so hard, nearly ready to come. He realizes that Harvey has remained silent this whole time, hasn't spoken one word. He has looked at Mike the whole time, maybe shifting his gaze from Mike's eyes to his lips, but for all that he still hasn't actually said anything. It wasn't at all what Mike anticipated. When they are at work Harvey doesn't hesitate to tell him exactly what it is he wants, exactly what he thinks of Mike's performance, admonishing just as often as slipping small fragments of praise into the conversation. And this is nothing like that.
"Harvey," Mike whispers. "Say something."
But Harvey shakes his head, just leans down and kisses him, deep. When he leans back up he shifts angle again before rolling his hips, and Mike thinks that maybe he doesn't speak because he doesn't trust himself not to spill words and confessions, that he doesn't want to say all the words that are threatening to escape (at least not yet, not out loud) so he remains silent. Everything Harvey wants to tell him he expresses with his actions, the way he kisses him, the way he moves them together.
Mike nods, doesn't look away, can't bear to break eye contact for a second. He arches up beneath Harvey, unable to control the sharp intake of breath. He can feel the arousal spread through his body. He is on the edge, so desperate. He can practically feel Harvey vibrating with want. He wants them to come together, wants everything they are and could be to matter in this moment. His lungs beg for air. He hooks a leg over Harvey's thigh, presses them that much closer together, and Harvey groans. He can feel Harvey's heartbeat beneath his thumb.
Harvey's thrusts are short and sharp and Mike comes, Harvey's name like a prayer on his lips, a cry of exultation to the wide world that he is Harvey's and Harvey is his. Mike is still reeling from the power of his orgasm when Harvey stills, finally says Mike's name as he comes, rough and real and it's everything Mike ever wanted.
Harvey collapses on top of Mike, boneless, exhausted. Their chests rise and fall in unison as each tries to regain their breath. Harvey's face is buried in the crook of Mike's neck, mouth nibbling at the skin there.
After a few moments Harvey goes to move, but Mike stops him with a, "No, don't go, not yet."
Mike wraps his arms and legs around Harvey, almost childlike in the innocence of the embrace, the need as pure as falling snow to be as close to Harvey as possible, to make this moment go on forever. Harvey acquiesces and Mike revels in it, the warm and solid feel above him, the way their bodies entangle just as their lives have always done.
The room is silent but for their shaky breaths. Mike feels the weight of this moment, as real as the weight of Harvey above him. They are exhausted, wrung out, but Mike smiles, presses his mouth to Harvey's shoulder and kisses him lightly. Harvey lifts his head enough to kiss Mike's lips, the embrace sweet in its simplicity.
"You know, as comfortable as my couch is, the bed is ten times better," Harvey tells him.
Mike smiles. "What is it you always tell me about gloating?"
Harvey chuckles. "I am awesome at gloating, thank you very much."
Mike thinks that's not all you are awesome at, but doesn't say it. No need to contribute to Harvey's already raving ego. He kisses Harvey's sweaty brow and says, "Can we just stay here for a bit longer?"
Harvey nods, and they settle themselves down. Harvey shifts as much of his weight off of Mike as he can without escaping his embrace. Mike fingertips idle along Harvey's skin. They lie there, tangled up together, warm and sated and maybe even falling in love.
Fandom: Suits
Ship: Harvey/Mike
Rating: R/NC17
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own.
Summary: Despite how long they have known each other (over a year), despite how well they know each other (better than anyone), Mike can't remember the last time he and Harvey were genuinely alone. And because Harvey is the most important person in his life, his best friend really, Mike wants to know that what they have is real, that they can still be them when no one is watching. And he has this theory, barely constructed and ethereal at best, that maybe if they did spend some time alone together, that they would discover the true bounds of their relationship...
Authors Notes: I started writing this before ep 2x10 aired, so as awesome as the whole 'Harvey and Mike get high together' sequence was, for the purposes of this fic just pretend the events of that episode never happened. Having said that, this doesn't take place directly after 2x09 either - it's set a few months down the track from current canon.
Thanks to veritas_st for the once-over. Dedicated to my dear smartalli, because she is an amazing friend and has gone way above and beyond for me lately and she deserves all the fic.
Theories, Policies and Loopholes
It occurs to Mike for the first time that despite how much time he and Harvey spend together, they are never really alone.
They are at work, in Harvey's glass panelled office (with Donna listening to every word) or his open-air cubicle or walking down crowded hallways while whispering secrets that should really not be said within a mile radius of anyone at Pearson Hardman. They are meeting with clients and other lawyers, a never-ending series of conference rooms and offices that all end up looking the same. They are standing in front of a judge in a courtroom, being driven around the city by a chauffeur, dining with a client in a crowded restaurant, walking side by side in the chaotic city streets…
The point is, despite how long they have known each other (over a year), despite how well they know each other (better than anyone), Mike can't remember the last time they were genuinely alone. He racks his brain trying to come up with some example; surely there must have been some time they were alone together. There was the interview of course, those twenty minutes they spent challenging and testing each other, each trying to deem if the other was worthy. There have been a few instances where they were working so late that they were the last ones at the office. There have been the very occasional times where one went to the other's apartment, but that was really only for a few minutes to either fight or mock. But beyond that, there is nothing.
How is it possible that this man has become the most important person in his life, and yet he rarely spends more than ten minutes alone in his company? It doesn't seem right. You can't build a relationship so genuine and significant entirely in front of other people.
Now that the thought has taken residence in his mind he needs to do something about it. He doesn't know why, not entirely, but there is something in him that needs to know that this relationship can sustain in these new circumstances. That they can still be them when no one is watching.
He pounds on Harvey's condo door, ignores the older man's look of surprise when he opens the door, and just barges in without a word. He can practically hear Harvey's eye roll, but Harvey doesn't say anything, just follows him inside.
"Is anyone here?" Mike asks without preamble.
He can tell Harvey is surprised by the question (although whether from the actual question or his boldness Mike can't tell) but he isn't the best lawyer in town for nothing, and he schools his features before replying, "No."
"Are you expecting anyone?"
Harvey shakes his head slowly.
"Any plans for the evening?"
"Just working on the Rains case..."
Mike nods, exhales with relief. He looks around the room absently. He can feel some of the adrenalin starting to wear off now that he is here. Harvey remains silent, just watches him with an expression halfway between amused and curious. When Mike finally meets his gaze Harvey just quirks an eyebrow at him.
"Care to share what's going on?"
Now that he's here it feels ridiculous to say, to even think. But he can't back out now. "You and I are going to spend the next few hours here, alone together."
"And why are we going to do that?" Harvey asks, but he hasn't laughed or mocked so Mike is taking it for a win.
But Mike can't tell him. He can't say that Harvey is the most important person in his life, his best friend really, and he wants to know that what they have is real. He can't tell him that the idea that what they have only exists for the world to see is heartbreaking. He can't say that he has this theory, barely constructed and ethereal at best, that maybe if they did spend some time alone together, that they would discover the true bounds of their friendship.
"Please, Harvey," Mike says, his voice low. "Can we just do this, no questions asked?"
There must be something in his voice (Mike vainly hopes it's not desperation) that quells Harvey's enquiries. The older man nods, and Mike breathes free.
"Can I at least ask what it is we'll be doing?" Harvey asks as he goes into the kitchen to grab them both a drink.
In all honesty Mike hadn't gotten that far yet. The adrenalin pumped him up enough to get him here. He didn't really have a plan beyond that. He probably should have.
Mike shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe order a pizza, cheesy crust optional. Watch a DVD..."
"What is this, a date?" Harvey smirks.
"What? No! No, of course not. It's just ... hanging out. This is what friends do, isn't it?"
Mike really hopes the 'friend' comment will go unremarked upon. Because, really, he doesn't know how to label the relationship he and Harvey have. Are they friends? Colleagues? Boss and subordinate? All of the above, depending on the day and situation and Harvey's mood? Possibly more, again depending on the day and situation and Harvey's mood? And he feels like the friend comment is akin to waving a red flag in front of a bull. But he won't take it back now. He wants Harvey's friendship, wants Harvey to admit that he is Mike's friend too. And he is terrified that Harvey is going to brush him off, put him in his place, wherever that is (but definitely not on this side of the friends line).
Harvey stalks back into the lounge, hands Mike a beer. "As your friend, I need to tell you that there is no way in hell we are ordering a pizza with cheese in the crust."
Mike grins, relieved beyond words. He holds up his beer bottle for Harvey to tap with his, which he does. "Fair enough."
Mike takes a swig of his drink as Harvey retreats to the kitchen and pulls out a stack of menus from a drawer hidden beneath the counter. He sorts through them until he finds the menu for the nearest pizza joint.
"The usual?" Harvey asks as he dials the number on his cell.
Mike nods, turns around on the pretence of looking at Harvey's apartment to hide the fact that he is grinning like an idiot. It's such a small (and seemingly insignificant) thing, but Harvey knows his favorite pizza (the same way Mike knows his). Harvey knows Mike's junk food of choice to get through a long afternoon. Mike knows that something is wrong when Harvey plays his Charles Bradley & Menahan Street Band record. Harvey knows that Mike cares about everyone indiscriminately but trusts only a select few he deems worthy (even though he would say that most of the time they aren't). Mike knows that Harvey values honesty above all other qualities. They really do know each other.
"Alright, come on," Harvey says after he hangs up. Mike follows where Harvey leads. He has never made it past the lounge room on his previous visits, and he has no idea where Harvey is leading him.
Mike follows Harvey into a room down the hallway. His eyes go wide. He looks to Harvey, incredulous, and Harvey being the smug bastard that he is just smirks.
"Oh. My. God. Did I die? Is this heaven?"
Harvey chuckles as Mike slowly turns to take in every angle of Harvey's home theater room. Well, okay, it was really just a large room Harvey converted into a theater room, with its dark walls and thick curtains and massive flat screen and an entire fucking wall of DVDs, but still. Harvey has a fucking theater room.
Mike walks across the room to peruse Harvey's collection. It isn't as highbrow as he expected, although given the movie quotes they exchange on a daily basis he supposes that shouldn't have been a surprise. They aren't in any order he can discern, other than the occasional grouping where franchises were lined up, or little clusters of Hitchcock or Burton or Nicholas Cage or Simon Pegg. His fingertips trail along the cases as he explores.
"Rocky Horror Picture Show, Harvey? Really?"
"If you don't like Tim Curry I'm not sure we can be friends," Harvey tells him, settling himself on the couch.
"Ice Age 3?"
"I have to have something appropriate to show my niece and nephew when they're here. If you're thinking of choosing it I should warn you it's pretty lame."
Mike nods absently, lets the comment about watching a kids film go. He knew Harvey had a brother, but until this moment he had no idea he had a niece and nephew. The detail slipped so easily from Harvey, a casual comment that he tries not to overestimate. But he can't deny the way it settles him, hearing the admission about his family, so nonchalant, like it was perfectly natural to talk about their families, their everyday lives away from Pearson Hardman.
"Holy shit, you have every Star Trek that ever existed," Mike exclaims as he hits the Star Trek corner of the wall. Every movie, every TV series, Harvey has them all. "I mean, even the bad movies and terrible spinoffs."
"There are no bad movies or terrible spinoffs, thank you very much," Harvey says.
"I beg to differ. Deep Space Nine was fucking terrible."
Harvey raises an eyebrow, curious at Mike's sudden Star Trek knowledge. Mike just coughs awkwardly and returns his attention to the DVDs.
"You have the original Buffy movie," Mike says in disbelief.
"Are you actually going to choose something for us to watch or do I get to spend the evening listening to you mock my amazing DVD collection?"
Mike laughs, gives in. He starts looking in earnest now. "Batman?"
"Which one?"
"Whichever you like."
"Batman Begins it is."
Mike pops the DVD into the player as Harvey fiddles with the remotes and gets everything turned on and on the appropriate setting. Mike toes off his shoes and crashes down onto the sofa next to him. The couch is deep and soft; it takes up pretty much the entire length of the wall, and it could probably fit a half dozen people with ease, and yet Mike still sits down right next to Harvey. He settles in easily and soon enough the movie is playing.
It feels fucking weird. Mike never feels weird around Harvey, and is more than used to sitting in the same room with him while neither speaks, for hours on end. But this is different. Everything feels different. It's like the secret behind Mike's intentions for the evening and Harvey's confusion as to why Mike suddenly needed this so badly is poisoning the air between them. Mike tries not to fidget, refuses to look at Harvey, just keeps his eyes on the screen and hopes things improve.
About twenty minutes later the pizza arrives. Harvey brings it back into the theater room and they start eating. Mike makes a smartass comment about the pizza being awesome and how the only way it could be improved is if there was cheese in the crust. And Harvey comes back with a sarcastic reply and suddenly a semblance of normalcy returns.
They talk as they eat, giving their occasional attention to the movie in the small lulls of conversation, but it usually only lasts a minute or two before they start talking again.
"You know," Mike says conversationally, as on the screen at the other side of the room Bruce Wayne drunkenly rants at all his guests, "you never told me why you wanted to be a lawyer."
"I didn't," Harvey says. At Mike quirked eyebrow he elaborates with, "At least, not in the way you are implying. I didn't grow up wanting to be a lawyer."
"Then how-?"
"How did I end up being the best damn closer in the city?"
Mike laughs, but nods his head to ask him to continue.
"My childhood was ... I hesitate to use the word difficult, especially to you with everything you went through, but it wasn't easy. My parents, they had a lot going on in their own lives and marriage, and my brother and I kinda got forgotten about a lot. My childhood basically consisted of two things: my brother and baseball. And when baseball was no longer an option I went off the rails. Just a bit," Harvey hastily adds, before Mike can get in a comment about that, "and nowhere near where you went. But I was a screw-up. Jessica found me, gave me a job. She was amazing, so smart and powerful and in control. That's what I aspired to be."
Mike can't help but think of the parallels, how Jessica saved Harvey the same way Harvey saved him. "That was an amazing thing for her to do," Mike says, while actually thinking that was an amazing thing you did for me and I still can't believe it.
Harvey shrugs, like it's no big deal. "I guess so."
Mike looks away from Harvey, glances at the napkin his hands have been shredding in his lap. "Jessica is always going to detest me, isn't she?"
"What are you talking about?"
"No matter what happens, I'll always be the kid who put her firm in jeopardy. Who caused you to put her in danger. She'll never forgive me for that. And she'll certainly never trust me."
"Maybe, maybe not," Harvey shrugs. "But if I had to do the same thing again, I wouldn't do it any differently."
Mike can't help but look up at Harvey, smiling shyly. He knows Harvey trusts him, maybe even respects him, but the words are so rare. To hear any kind of verbal confirmation that Harvey doesn't regret hiring Mike, despite the multitude of complications it has brought to his life and the changes it has made to his other relationships, it's a powerful thing. Overwhelming, in fact. He wants to make Harvey proud, wants to make him happy, wants him to never regret the decision that brought them together. Because Mike knows, no matter what the future holds, even in the worst case scenario where he was found out and torn from this life (and therefore Harvey), he could never regret it either.
"You know, you never told me why you wanted to be a lawyer," Harvey says after a few moments, matching Mike's exact tone.
Mike chuckles. Of course Harvey wouldn't let that go. He takes a swig from his beer before returning to face Harvey.
"You know that my parents died in a car crash." At Harvey's nod, he continues with, "Well, what I didn't tell you was that the guy who did it, who was responsible, was drunk off alcohol given to him by a restaurant even after they knew he had too much. A few years later, when I realized we had a case against them, it was like a lightning bolt, and I knew then and there what I wanted to do."
"And did you? Sue the guy responsible?"
Mike shakes his head. "I wanted to, but Grammy, she wasn't up to it. I couldn't put her through that."
"I'm sorry, Mike," Harvey says, resting his hand gently on Mike's wrist.
They both remain silent for a few moments. "Wow," Mike exclaims at last, sitting that much straighter and shaking his head as though physically trying to remove his thoughts. "I can really bring a party down, can't I?" he laughs.
Harvey laughs with him, and Mike wants this back, this ease they have, so pulling a topic from thin air he asks, "So, tell me about your niece and nephew."
And Harvey does. He tells him their names (Hugo and Jayne), their ages (four and three), their little quirks (Hugo knows the names of a dozen dinosaurs but still refuses to use the proper word for things like 'water' and 'bedroom', every time Harvey visits their apartment Jayne will greet him with "Uncle Harvey, you came back, welcome to my home").
They keep talking. The credits of the movie are scrolling and they barely notice. And whenever Mike asks a question Harvey answers it. He is completely honest and open in a way he has never been before. He laughs, easily, the sound making Mike's heart skip. It's contagious, and soon all matter of things are extremely hilarious. Harvey's eyes crinkle. He tells stories, long and crazy anecdotes, gestures wildly and grins easily. He touches Mike, a hand to his arm for attention, a hand to his knee for emphasis.
The hours fly by. (At one point Harvey gets up to get them another drink and Mike takes the opportunity to put on a concert DVD because the never-ending loop of the Batman Begins menu screen was driving him crazy. Upon re-entering the room Harvey acknowledges the Simon & Garfunkel DVD with a, "Nice choice," before he continues with his story.) And the whole time, Mike can't help but think that it all just feels so fucking easy. It's like, being here together, alone within these four walls, that final barrier between them has come down. Mike doesn't even know what that barrier was, why it was there and how it's gone now, but it feels so great he doesn't dare question it.
Mike genuinely can't remember the last time he had this much fun. He doesn't know that he has ever had this much fun. He feels completely at home and in the moment, for once doesn't feel his mind thinking about five things at once. At this instant, all he can think about, all he can focus on, is Harvey.
He really likes work Harvey, but home Harvey, well, let's just say he feels a lot more for him. He loves how animated he is. He loves that they sit close enough for Mike to feel the warmth from his skin. He loves the way Harvey playfully shoves him when he doesn't believe whatever Mike has just told him. He loves the way their knees knock together when they shift on the couch to face each other better. He loves how they are both so desperate to talk that they will try and raise their voices to drown the other out, and that Harvey is the one that usually gives in first, with a smile and laugh as Mike pumps the air in victory.
Harvey is in the middle of a story from his Harvard days when it happens. He just looks so bright and animated and so fucking happy that Mike can't help but lean over and kiss him. It's brief, still, and then Mike suddenly realizes what he has done, how the moment and all the feelings expanding in his chest engulfed him and he did this really stupid thing.
He pulls back. Harvey doesn't say anything. He just looks at Mike, dazed and confused.
"Oh shit. Harvey, I'm so sorry. I did-"
But Mike is cut off by Harvey surging forward and kissing him. Mike makes a small noise of surprise before melting into the kiss. It's slow, exploratory. Harvey licks at his lips and Mike opens them, welcomes the deepening. Mike wants to feel closer, but they are on a weird angle, sitting side by side on the couch but turned to face each other, and their legs are in the way.
Mike breaks their kiss. Harvey looks almost heartbroken by it, which makes Mike grin. He gets up on his knees and throws a leg over Harvey. The older man straightens up, leans into the back of the sofa as Mike straddles his lap. Mike keeps himself raised on his knees, forcing Harvey to look up at him. A million thoughts run through Mike's brain as Harvey smiles lazily up at him. All the things he wants to do flash in his mind. At the top of the list is something he can do right here and now. He slides his fingers into Harvey's hair, runs them through a few times. Harvey closes his eyes at the touch, relaxed.
Mike takes advantage of being able to catch Harvey unaware and presses his mouth to his neck. Harvey's fingers fly to his hips, dig in as Mike slowly presses kisses to his stubbled skin. His tongue occasionally dips to taste his skin. It's slow. Mike wants to take his time, to not rush this. He wants this moment to last forever.
Harvey hums in approval when Mike slowly makes his way down Harvey's neck. He settles into Harvey's lap. His nimble fingers quickly unbutton the top few buttons on Harvey's shirt so he can get to his clavicle. He mouths at Harvey's skin for a few moments before making his way back up to his mouth. He kisses him, just once, the simple pressing of lips.
Mike reverently cups Harvey's face with his hands before his fingertips begin exploring. They trace his eyebrows, skirt over his moles, glide down his cheeks and over his lips. Harvey lets him explore, lies still and keeps his eyes closed, looking nothing short of completely relaxed.
Mike loves Harvey's face. He knows it so well now, has seen it for hours upon hours practically every day for the last year. He has seen the full spectrum of emotions expressed in these features. The how the fuck did that brain of yours come up with that solution? face. The I can't believe you are saying this to me but I respect that you have the balls to say it anyway face. The bitch, please face. He has seen Harvey confused and proud and pissed and surprised and pleased and amused and a million other emotions. But he has never seen Harvey turned on before, and he can't wait a moment longer.
When Mike's fingertips are done mapping his features, every contour committed to memory, his hands trail down his shirt where they resume their task from before. Undoing all the buttons is the work of a moment and when he looks back up he sees Harvey has his eyes open and fixed on him.
His lips quirk into a tentative smile. He leans forward, and Harvey assumes he is going in for a kiss so tilts his head up slightly, but Mike just bumps the tip of his nose against Harvey's. The older man laughs, free and easy.
Mike smiles, but looks away. He focuses on his hands, which rest on Harvey's stomach. He can feel Harvey's hands on his hips and Harvey's gaze on his face.
"Harvey..."
But he doesn't know what to say next. There are so many things he could tell him. Like how much he wants this, that a part of him has always wanted this from the moment they met. He could construct a confession that would trigger one in return from Harvey. He could ask exactly what it was Harvey wanted from him. He could say that he wants him harder and deeper than he has ever wanted anything in his life.
But no words appear. Maybe part of him is afraid that speaking those truths will break them out of this moment, will steal whatever courage got them to this point, bring reality crashing into the room, hard and fast. Or maybe he just doesn't know how to express himself, could never find enough words to adequately convey exactly what Harvey means to him.
In the end Harvey saves him, like he always does. He takes Mike's chin between his thumb and index finger, makes Mike meet his gaze. He just smiles at Mike, small but genuine and Mike wonders how many of his thoughts are obviously showing on his face. Harvey leans forward and kisses him. His hands are flat on his back, pushing them closer together. The kiss is insistent; Harvey pushing his tongue into Mike's mouth like it belongs there. For the first time, a sense of urgency overtakes them. Mike grounds down into Harvey's lap, desperate for more.
Harvey hands trail from Mike's back to his hips. His hands tangle with Mike's t-shirt and he sweeps his hands up Mike's sides, Mike raising his arms so Harvey can easily divest him of his tee. And then, in a move more swift and smooth than Mike has ever seen, Harvey wraps his arms around him and suddenly Mike has been flipped, now lying on his back with Harvey hovering above him. Mike laughs, kisses Harvey again.
But Harvey seems to have a plan of his own now. He presses his mouth to the hollow of Mike's chest, trails a series of open mouthed kisses down his stomach. It's slow, torturous. His hands splay wide over Mike's ribs. When he moves back up he detours to take a nipple into his mouth, the surprise causing Mike to arch up under him, a groan torn from his throat.
Mike is waiting for Harvey when he kisses him again. He pushes Harvey's shirt from his frame, Harvey helping as best he can without actually extracting himself from Mike. He drops the material onto the floor and wraps his legs around Harvey, wanting to get closer.
Harvey breaks their kiss, leaving them both breathless. He presses his forehead to Mike's. Mike can't stop touching, running his hands up and down his back.
"So, I guess it did kind of turn into a date in the end, huh?" Harvey says softly, and they both laugh.
"It would appear so. Unfortunately for you I have a firm no sex on the first date policy," Mike tells him.
Harvey tips his head back so he can look at Mike properly. Mike tries to keep a straight face under Harvey's scrutiny. The older man clearly isn't sure if Mike is joking, in which case that is so not funny, or if he is serious, in which case he is fucking frustrated.
A devilish smile lights his features. He slides off Mike (the couch is so deep that Mike can lie on his back and Harvey can fit into the space between the back cushions and Mike's body without danger of pushing Mike off), props his head up on the flat of his hand, doesn't touch Mike, just stares him down.
Mike feels the loss of contact like a physical blow. It's like he's an addict denied his favorite vice, and he knows Harvey is doing this on purpose. He is waiting for Mike to make the first move, to break first. It's a battle of wills Mike doesn't care about winning. All he cares about is feeling Harvey's skin against his own.
Mike groans in a resigned kind of way as he leans up and kisses Harvey, the older man laughing against his lips, victorious. The kiss is gentle, almost reverent. Their lips slide together easily, a slow dance so simple and easy Mike feels like they've been doing this all their lives. When Harvey pulls back he fixes Mike under his gaze.
"Are you sure that policy doesn't contain a loophole for guys you have known for over a year, who trust you wholeheartedly and want you more than they would like to admit?"
Mike is completely taken aback by the words. He doesn't react at first, doesn't know how, but then he smiles, his fingertips lightly caressing Harvey's stubbled cheek. And when his thumb brushes Harvey's lower lip Harvey takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the pad of his thumb.
"Actually, now that you mention it…" Mike grins.
Harvey grins in return. He manoeuvres himself back so he's atop Mike, knees digging into the couch on either side of Mike's thighs. He kisses Mike, presses a few quick kisses to his neck and chest before sitting back up and attacking Mike's belt and jeans. Mike doesn't waste time in luxuriating in the feeling of being undressed by Harvey. He's too desperate for that. There will be other times, hopefully lots and lots of other times, where he can savor the moment, can bask in the sight of Harvey stripping him bare. But for now, all he cares about is Harvey finishing his task so he can sit up and repeat the same on him.
Harvey remains kneeling and Mike sits, completely naked, reaching out to Harvey's jeans. He looks up at Harvey and the older man keeps their gazes locked as Mike undoes the button, pulls down the fly.
Mike will swear, under oath and attached to a polygraph, that this wasn't his intention. He didn't come here tonight for the sole purpose of ending the evening in Harvey's bed (or couch, as the case may be). But he also couldn't deny that when he considered the possible outcomes of him barging into Harvey's home that this option made it onto the list. But now that it is actually happening, now that they are going down this road, Mike wonders at the inevitability of it all.
Was this always meant to happen? Was this the point of everything - Trevor being a terrible friend and Jessica choosing Harvey and all those hundreds of decisions both big and small that led them here. He had always felt an instinctive pull towards Harvey, from the first moment they met, like there was a force bigger than the both of them involved, ensuring that they were both where they needed to be, with each other. But what if there wasn't? What if everything he and Harvey had, what if it wasn't destined? What if, somewhere along the way, he had turned left when he should have turned right, leading him down a path away from this?
Could he have known a life that didn't have Harvey in it?
The idea was terrifying. Now that he was here he couldn't imagine ever not wanting this. There was a part of him, buried deep inside somewhere, that needed Harvey. It sparked the moment they met, burned bigger and brighter as the months passed. It lit him up, moved him forward. And the idea that he could've missed out on that, being the man he was today, having Harvey in his life in any way shape or form, it knocked the wind from him.
The feel of Harvey's thumb brushing the arch of his cheek brings him back to the moment. He focuses, finds Harvey looking at him with worry.
"Are you okay?" he asks, brow knitted in concern.
"Yeah. Sorry. Zoned for a minute there."
Harvey just looks at him, the are you serious? screaming from his features, and Mike realizes how that must've sounded. That they were in the middle of having sex (well, about to be in the middle of having sex) and Mike got bored or distracted and let his mind wander.
"Oh, God, no, not like that," Mike stammers. "Shit. I just mean..."
"Yes," Harvey prompts when Mike doesn't continue.
Mike swallows. Could he really tell Harvey the truth? His hands are still on Harvey's jeans and he wants him so fucking much. "I was just thinking about ... well ... you."
Harvey grins, large and bold, the kind that makes his whole face light up. He briefly leans back on his heels and he kisses Mike quickly. "I'm right here, Mike. In case you want to do more than just think about me."
Mike laughs, playfully punching his arm. "Smartass," he says, completely without heat, because Harvey could have pressed for more or looked at him like he was an idiot or one of a thousand other things, but he didn't. He made a joke, teased Mike like he always does, so he could rid the room of tension, bring it back so it feels like it always does between them.
Harvey shrugs, pushing back up onto his knees. "You love me for it."
In lieu of an answer (he wasn't going to take the obvious bait) Mike finishes his task, pulling Harvey's jeans and underwear down in one single movement. Harvey playfully pushes Mike back down onto the couch, performing some kind of acrobatic action that removes all his clothes onto the floor and returns him to kneeling above Mike in one fluid motion.
Mike lies in wait, curious to see what Harvey does next. Harvey seems to consider him for about two seconds flat before he grins, crouching down between Mike's legs and slipping his cock into his mouth.
An electric shock of surprise flies through Mike's body at the first touch of Harvey's mouth. Harvey doesn't hesitate. He sucks in earnest, his cheeks hollowing with the action. One hand gently holds the base of Mike's cock while the other explores, skating over Mike's thighs, caressing his balls, slipping down his crack. It takes every ounce of energy Mike possesses to not thrust into Harvey's mouth. His body tenses with the control it takes. He forces his eyes from the ceiling, lifts his head so he can watch Harvey. The older man licks his shaft, engulfs him in his mouth, tongue swirling around him. Mike can't take the sight before him, the way Harvey moves around his cock, deep and wet.
"Harvey," Mike says, voice rough and thick with want.
Harvey looks up, seems to understand from Mike's plaintive expression, so he releases Mike's painfully hard cock, presses a series of kisses and licks to Mike's hip, stomach, chest and neck as he moves up the younger man's body. Mike is desperately awaiting Harvey's mouth on his and he doesn't disappoint, sweeping in for a deep kiss.
Harvey settles his body on Mike's. Mike can feel every inch of their skin where their naked bodies meet, pressed flush together, like they can't get close enough.
They just lie there and make out, for a long time, like that is the goal and not merely part of the journey. Mike kisses Harvey with more passion than he ever remembers exhibiting for anyone else. And the best part is that Harvey returns the embrace with wild abandon, kissing Mike like he is afraid that the moment they stop he will awake to find all this a dream. Mike can't believe how unhurried he feels. As much as he wants to fuck Harvey, and he does (preferably a lot and in every position imaginable), right now, if this was all that happened, it would be enough.
"I want you so much," Mike confesses between kisses, the words coming out in a rushed whisper before he claims Harvey's mouth once more.
Harvey chuckles, murmurs "You have me," against Mike's lips.
Mike reaches between their two bodies, Harvey lifting up enough to give him access. He wraps a hand around their cocks, gets his first touch of Harvey in his hand. Harvey moans into his mouth as Mike explores. It feels incredible, the contradiction of hard and smooth, the way Harvey bucks ever so slightly into his grasp. But Mike is desperate now, wants more, needs everything.
He withdraws his hand. And as if that was some silent signal, Harvey breaks their kiss and takes Mike's hand, the same one that was just exploring his own body, lacing their fingers together and pushing them into the soft sofa. Harvey braces his weight on his other forearm as he carefully aligns their bodies. He looks at Mike then, and when Mike tips his head just that tiniest bit Harvey thrusts, slow and shallow but with purpose, and Mike can't breathe.
The movements are slow at first, careful and steady. Mike's free hand makes its way to Harvey's ass, kneading the flesh he finds there. Every roll of Harvey's hip, every inch of movement as their cocks rub together, feels fucking incredible.
They look at each other the whole time. Their bodies begin moving in earnest, the pace quickening, skin becoming warm and slick with sweat, and they don't break, don't move, just stare right into each other's eyes. It's one of the most profound and important moments in Mike's life, looking up at Harvey, feeling their bodies move together like they were made for this.
He had wanted to see Harvey's face when he was turned on, and he sees it now, better than he ever imagined. Harvey looks so free, completely here in this moment with Mike, all his attention focused on Mike like he is the only thing that matters. They keep staring at each other, unblinking and unabashed.
Harvey's thrusts are rhythmic, hypnotic, but every so often he will change it up, press in that little bit harder, change the angle ever so slightly. Mike's breath hitches in his chest. A moan escapes his throat.
"Oh," Mike breaths. "Fuck."
Harvey grins down at him, repeating the same motion, pulling his name from Mike's lips. Mike's fingers, still entwined with Harvey's, grip tighter. Mike arches up, lifts his head slightly off the sofa and Harvey leans down and licks at his lips before favoring him with a quick kiss.
Mike's hand runs up and down Harvey's back a few times before he brings it back, skirting it between their bodies so he can lightly touch his fingertips to Harvey's cheek. Harvey's eyelids briefly flutter closed at the touch. Mike's hand settles on his neck, the pad of his thumb pressing into his pulse point, fingers wrapped around the back of his neck.
"Harvey," Mike says, the only word his brain can conjure at the moment. Harvey thrusts deep, speeds up, and Mike sees stars. "Oh God, right there."
Mike is so hard, nearly ready to come. He realizes that Harvey has remained silent this whole time, hasn't spoken one word. He has looked at Mike the whole time, maybe shifting his gaze from Mike's eyes to his lips, but for all that he still hasn't actually said anything. It wasn't at all what Mike anticipated. When they are at work Harvey doesn't hesitate to tell him exactly what it is he wants, exactly what he thinks of Mike's performance, admonishing just as often as slipping small fragments of praise into the conversation. And this is nothing like that.
"Harvey," Mike whispers. "Say something."
But Harvey shakes his head, just leans down and kisses him, deep. When he leans back up he shifts angle again before rolling his hips, and Mike thinks that maybe he doesn't speak because he doesn't trust himself not to spill words and confessions, that he doesn't want to say all the words that are threatening to escape (at least not yet, not out loud) so he remains silent. Everything Harvey wants to tell him he expresses with his actions, the way he kisses him, the way he moves them together.
Mike nods, doesn't look away, can't bear to break eye contact for a second. He arches up beneath Harvey, unable to control the sharp intake of breath. He can feel the arousal spread through his body. He is on the edge, so desperate. He can practically feel Harvey vibrating with want. He wants them to come together, wants everything they are and could be to matter in this moment. His lungs beg for air. He hooks a leg over Harvey's thigh, presses them that much closer together, and Harvey groans. He can feel Harvey's heartbeat beneath his thumb.
Harvey's thrusts are short and sharp and Mike comes, Harvey's name like a prayer on his lips, a cry of exultation to the wide world that he is Harvey's and Harvey is his. Mike is still reeling from the power of his orgasm when Harvey stills, finally says Mike's name as he comes, rough and real and it's everything Mike ever wanted.
Harvey collapses on top of Mike, boneless, exhausted. Their chests rise and fall in unison as each tries to regain their breath. Harvey's face is buried in the crook of Mike's neck, mouth nibbling at the skin there.
After a few moments Harvey goes to move, but Mike stops him with a, "No, don't go, not yet."
Mike wraps his arms and legs around Harvey, almost childlike in the innocence of the embrace, the need as pure as falling snow to be as close to Harvey as possible, to make this moment go on forever. Harvey acquiesces and Mike revels in it, the warm and solid feel above him, the way their bodies entangle just as their lives have always done.
The room is silent but for their shaky breaths. Mike feels the weight of this moment, as real as the weight of Harvey above him. They are exhausted, wrung out, but Mike smiles, presses his mouth to Harvey's shoulder and kisses him lightly. Harvey lifts his head enough to kiss Mike's lips, the embrace sweet in its simplicity.
"You know, as comfortable as my couch is, the bed is ten times better," Harvey tells him.
Mike smiles. "What is it you always tell me about gloating?"
Harvey chuckles. "I am awesome at gloating, thank you very much."
Mike thinks that's not all you are awesome at, but doesn't say it. No need to contribute to Harvey's already raving ego. He kisses Harvey's sweaty brow and says, "Can we just stay here for a bit longer?"
Harvey nods, and they settle themselves down. Harvey shifts as much of his weight off of Mike as he can without escaping his embrace. Mike fingertips idle along Harvey's skin. They lie there, tangled up together, warm and sated and maybe even falling in love.