Walk the Line

Part 2


If Mike expected Harvey to continue right where they left off earlier – and honestly, he can't clearly say what the hell he expects from this night now that it's been thrown off track like that – he's disappointed. Though disappointed is definitely the wrong word. Harvey doesn't continue where they left off, he does not drive Mike right back to the edge he's been lingering on earlier, ready to tumble into the brilliant relief of orgasm.

No. Because Harvey Specter never does what others expect him to do. Mike should be used to it by now, but really he isn't. Just as Mike has convinced himself that Harvey's attempt to show him the merits of gay sex is going to involve all kinds of tricks from the other man's seemingly endless repertoire, maybe a feat of contortion or two, it…well, it doesn't.

Instead, Harvey kisses him.

Just that. He kisses Mike.

It's unexpected, but after a few moments of disbelief Mike gladly lets himself fall into it. Harvey's lips are soft and warm, and they're moving gently against Mike's as his tongue maps the inside of Mike's mouth. The kiss is slow, and definitely not as heated as their earlier kisses have been, and it really surprises Mike that Harvey is kissing him like that. It's almost aimless in how it doesn't feel like merely the means to an end, but a kiss for the sake of kissing. Mike is not complaining, though. Harvey is a great kisser, and Mike enjoys this, enjoys the unhurried and unrushed feeling of it.

Harvey is still kneeling above him, his weight supported on one forearm while his other hand is cupping Mike's cheek, radiating heat into his skin through the touch. It takes Mike a few seconds to catch up with the program and realize that he's an active participant in this, as well. The moment he does, his hands slide up the warm skin on Harvey's back to tangle in his hair. It's a good way to keep Harvey in place, to stop him from getting stupid ideas and breaking the kiss anytime soon, but most of all Mike loves the feeling of running his fingers through the short strands. He loves to muss it up and make a mess out of Harvey's otherwise perfectly styled hair. Nobody else is going to see Harvey like this, but still Mike revels in the thought that he can mess up the otherwise always so impeccable exterior. He revels in the fact that Harvey lets him.

Maybe he loves doing it because he knows nobody else is going to see Harvey like this. Only Mike.

After what feels like far too little time at all, Harvey breaks the kiss despite all of Mike's best efforts to stop him from doing so. It's a feat of strength, but Mike manages to open his eyes. Harvey's face is just inches away from his, close enough that his breath is brushing over Mike's face in short, hot bursts. His eyes dark in the dim yellow light from the lamp on the bedside table, dark brown and almost liquid, his pupils wide as he looks down at Mike. There's something in the gaze that Mike can't place immediately, but it's gone before he can figure it out, the moment broken when Harvey's eyes slide closed and he leans back in, lips hot against Mike's skin as he presses a line of kisses against his lips, the corner of his mouth, and along the stubbly line of his jaw.

Mike presses back into the pillow, back arching with a groan as Harvey's mouth unerringly finds a spot on his neck, right beneath his ear, that makes pleasant tingles run down his spine as he teases it with his lips and teeth. Then Harvey's lips close over that spot and he sucks on it, and damn but that's going to leave a bruise and Mike doesn't care one bit. He'll wear the hickey proudly as long as Harvey doesn't stop this anytime soon, or at all preferably…

So of course Harvey stops, but Mike's groan of protest turns into a moan of pleasure as the other man licks a stripe down his throat, layering teasing licks and bites to the knob of his clavicle right beside the hollow of his throat. He doesn't stop there either, and instead continues to kiss along the sharp line of Mike's collarbone.

It's different.

It's different than all their previous encounters. There have been kisses and caresses before, of course, touches that fueled Mike's arousal to the point where he thought he couldn't take it anymore, but still this is different. Before, there was always a determination to what they were doing, a rush to get to underneath each other's clothes and in each other's pants. It's different now because it's almost aimless, small kisses and caresses that seemingly serve no other purpose but to make shivers run down Mike's spine.

Harvey's hand is still radiating heat against Mike's cheek, but it slides down the side of his face and comes to rest on his chest as he finally settles atop of Mike, straddling one of his thighs. Mike can feel Harvey's erection press against his leg and his own cock is hardening again, as well. He can feel the pleasant pulses of arousal thrum in his groin, but Harvey is making no move to touch him yet.

Mike still has one hand buried in Harvey's hair, fingers threaded firmly in the short strands, and his other hand is roaming across all the skin he can reach, tracing the line of Harvey's shoulder blades and running up and down along the line of his spine.


Harvey raises his head and Mike's breath catches in his throat at the sight of him, eyes dark with arousal and his lips red and kiss-swollen. A slight smile is tugging at one corner of his lips, and Mike forgets if he meant it as a statement or a question, or something else entirely.

"What do you want, Mike?" His fingers are idly roaming across Mike's chest, brushing against his nipple in a way that can only be described as deliberate. "Do you want more of this? Or do you want me to stop?"

Hell no.

Mike has no idea how he does it, but somehow he jackknifes into a half-sitting position, his fingers clutching at Harvey's shoulders to hold himself upright as he presses his mouth back to Harvey's. Harvey seems startled for all of a second then he gets on with the program, his tongue meeting Mike's halfway and hungrily tangling with it until they have to break apart in order to breathe, panting open-mouthed against each other's lips.

"Don't stop," Mike breathes, giving in to the temptation to suck on Harvey's lower lip, giving in easily as the motion is manipulated into another hungry kiss while Harvey lowers them back onto the mattress.

"Don't you dare stop."

Harvey's answer is a throaty chuckle, followed immediately by the sensation of hot, wet suction around his left nipple, and Mike throws his head back with a loud moan. This is…Mike doesn't have any words to describe it. It's different than his previous encounters with Harvey, and it's light years away from what happened between Trevor and him all those years ago. Mike isn't entirely sure he's equipped to deal with this. What Harvey is doing to him, the way he meticulously ratchets up Mike's arousal with every touch of his hands and mouth, defies description, but there's this worry lingering on the edge of his awareness, the thought that sooner or later this is going to come to a point where Mike is going to have to put an end to it, and where is that going to leave them?

Is there a them to speak of?

What the hell has he let himself in for?

It's like there is a tension in him that none of Harvey's touches can dissolve entirely, even as his hands and mouth move farther down his body, branding a line of pleasure into Mike's skin wherever he touches him. Thinking is overrated, especially in a situation like this, and Mike tries to force himself to stop. He's going to enjoy this while it lasts, and the way Harvey is touching and caressing him doesn't exactly make it hard to let himself fall into the pleasure of it.

Harvey is progressing farther and farther down his body, and Mike bites his bottom lip until he feels the pain sting sharply in anticipation of feeling the warm wet heat of Harvey's mouth around his cock. It doesn't happen, though, and a frustrated sound escapes his throat as Harvey ignores Mike's achingly hard cock and instead kisses his way down the juncture of Mike's torso and thigh. Harvey chuckles at Mike's impatience and then looks up at him along the length of Mike's body.

"What do you want, Mike?"

His voice is rough, and his face is hovering just a few inches away from Mike's straining cock. The feeling of Harvey's breath against it is almost more than Mike can bear.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

"I…" Mike's voice breaks slightly, and for once his brain lets him down as he tries to come up with an appropriate answer. Or any kind of answer, really. He comes up completely empty.

"Mike," Harvey repeats, running both palms up and down Mike's thighs. The sight of Mike's hard cock should be answer enough as to what he wants, but distantly he's aware that Harvey wants him to say it out loud. It's not quite asking for permission, especially considering that this particular boundary is one Harvey has crossed before, but it's a sign that what they talked about earlier is still very present in Harvey's mind. It would be touching, if Mike's brain wasn't focused solely on the desire to feel Harvey's mouth on his cock.

"Your…I want your mouth." He finally forces out. "I want you to suck me, Harvey."

A sly smile spreads over Harvey's face at the words and he leans down to lick at the head of Mike's cock teasingly.

"See? Wasn't that hard now, was it?"

Mike wants to reply, doesn't want to let Harvey get away with the condescending statement even if the humor in Harvey's voice is obvious, but before he can get a word out Harvey's mouth wraps around his cock in earnest, and Mike loses his ability for coherent speech.

Harvey's mouth…it's…Harvey is good at this. Really good. It's no surprise, because in all the time Mike has known Harvey he has never known the other man to do anything halfway, so he's content to let himself reap the benefits of that particular skill set of Harvey's. It's easy to just close his eyes and fall into it, the feeling of wet heat and suction all around his cock one moment, followed by the teasing almost-scrape of teeth, and that tongue doing the most wonderful things to the sensitive underside of the head of his cock. It's heady and it quickly takes him back to the brink of orgasm he has been tethering on earlier, not yet quite ready to tumble into the brilliant relief Harvey's mouth is promising him, but approaching the edge in large steps.

Mike knows that he's moaning unashamedly, that the sounds he's making would probably make a good soundtrack for a porn movie, but he's too far gone to give a damn about it. It simply feels too good, and if Harvey keeps that up for a little longer then he doesn't really need to worry about whether or not he's willing to cross the line, because then he's going to come before it even becomes an issue.

Almost as if he could read Mike's thoughts, Harvey's tongue slides along the underside of Mike's cock one last time, and then the heat of his mouth is gone, leaving Mike feeling strangely bereft. His moan of pleasure turns into a sound of protest almost immediately, but Harvey is determinedly working his way up his body again, leaving teasing licks and bites along the way. It feels good, there's no denying that, but right now the part of Mike that really, really wants to come as soon as possible would much rather want Harvey's mouth wrapped around his cock again, thank you very much.

The idea doesn't seem to feature into Harvey's current plans, though, and he nuzzles into the hollow of Mike's neck, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin there. Mike's hands tangle in Harvey's hair once more, pulling the other man in for a heated kiss. He can taste himself in Harvey's mouth, and it's different and unusual, but the mere memory of Harvey going down on him just moments ago is enough to make him moan into the kiss unashamedly.

It's only when Harvey breaks the kiss that Mike realizes the reason for Harvey's detour. The drawer of the bedside table is open, and there's lube and a foil-wrapped condom in Harvey's hand. Mike can't help it, the sight tears him out of his pleasant lust-filled haze and he can feel himself tensing up beyond his ability to control it. Mike trusts Harvey, he really does, but Harvey is still dead set on crossing the line, and Mike really isn't sure whether that's not going to become the deal breaker about this…their rel…whatever it is that's going on between them.


It takes Mike a moment to react to Harvey's voice. When he finally manages to tear his eyes away from Harvey's hand to look into his face, he finds that the other man looking directly at him. There's clear and unabashed lust in those dark eyes, but there's something else, too, something Mike can't quite define. Harvey holds his gaze for a few long seconds, as if he's testing the strength of Mike's resolve, then he leans in close once more so that his mouth is next to Mike's ear.

"Remember what I said about trust? You can tell me to stop any time, but until you do, I need you to trust me."

Mike wants to.

He knows that he can trust Harvey not to cross the line if Mike doesn't want him to, and he forcefully pushes all thought about what he may or may not want to do as this night progresses away. This is now, and right now Harvey is kissing and stroking his way down his body again, and it's getting increasingly difficult to worry about anything else in the light of that. By the time Harvey's lips close around the head of his cock again, Mike's brain refuses to report for any more serious duty than a mental repetition of yesgodyespleasemoredon'tstop.

Harvey's hands leave a trail of heat against his thighs, and Mike's not even aware that he's spreading them under the gentle pressure. What he is aware of is the wet heat of Harvey's mouth all around him, the pressure of a hand against his balls, rubbing and squeezing them just tight enough yet not too tight. It's taking all of his strength to keep his hips still, to not thrust up into Harvey's mouth, and Mike is so focused on keeping his self-control that at first he misses it completely when Harvey shifts between his legs.

He does not miss the sensation of a new touch, though, the feeling of a slippery finger sliding below his balls and farther along, until the digit is circling his hole, and Mike really doesn't know what to make of that. He knew this was coming, and the sensation isn't unpleasant, really, but this is toeing the line. It's crossing the line, really, because Mike remembers the feeling of fingers pushing into him, remembers Trevor working him open like that before he replaced his fingers with his cock…


For the second time in just a few moments Harvey's voice is tearing him out of his thoughts, and he swallows compulsively against his dry throat.


Again there is that serious look on Harvey's face, the one Mike can't quite place. It seems out of place somehow, an earnest expression bordering on concerned, and that is an untypical look to see on the older man.

"Do you want me to stop?"

It would be easy to just say yes and put an end to this, write it off as an attempt that in the end only proved his perception about anal sex. It should be easy, but still Mike finds himself hesitating.

There's something about the prospect of doing this with Harvey that he can't quite shake. It can't possibly be worse than his experience with Trevor, and maybe there's the off-chance that Harvey is right with what he's saying. Maybe he simply needs to give the experience another chance. Maybe…maybe he's simply thinking too much when he should just take a leap and dare to cross the line. It would be a lot easier if Harvey didn't ask for his verbal consent for every step along the way though, forcing him to make his decision over and over again…


"Don't stop."

The words leave his mouth without consulting his brain first, and he's a little unsure about it even as he says them. Harvey holds his gaze for a moment longer, as if he's searching for something in Mike's face that would belie his words. In all honesty, Mike isn't too sure what exactly is showing on his face. Whatever it is, it seems to satisfy Harvey. He runs a warm hand along Mike's thigh, radiating heat into his skin.

"Relax, Mike."

Harvey's voice is a low, teasing growl, and the sound of it goes directly into the pit of Mike's stomach, where his arousal is still coiling hot and tight despite the anticipation of what is about to happen. The words have not quite been an order, but still Mike finds himself following it, finds himself trying to relax as much as he can.

It works, once he makes the conscious effort not to resist the increasing pressure of Harvey's finger against his hole, and suddenly it happens from one moment to the next and Harvey's finger is sliding into him. It's…there's no pain, really, and no discomfort either. Mike can't quite put a name to the feeling other than that it's different from what he experienced before. Slowly but surely Harvey slides the finger fully into him, and while the sensation doesn't exactly add to his arousal, the way Harvey is sliding his free hand along the juncture of his torso and thigh, thumb brushing close to his cock without really touching, definitely is.

"Is that okay?"

It almost sounds like true concern in Harvey's voice, but Mike is too focused on trying to place the sensation of Harvey's finger inside of him to give any kind of coherent answer. The sound that escapes his throat must sound positive enough, though, because Harvey's finger continues to move in and out of him. The movements are getting surer now, the glide smooth and picking up pace.

Mike is willing to qualify the sensation as a good thing, although he'd be really hard-pressed to see why some people make such a fuss about it. It feels full, in a way he normally doesn't feel, but it's not exactly a new peak of pleasure. The way Harvey's other hand is roaming across his skin, stroking and teasing him, is a lot more exciting right now.

He keeps wondering for a little while longer, until he feels the touch of a second finger against the tight muscle. Harvey looks up and waits until Mike meets his eyes, and even though he doesn't say anything, the touch of his second finger is insistent enough for Mike to know what Harvey wants. He's still not entirely sure that it's what he wants, as well. He still remembers the discomfort when Trevor pushed two fingers into him, and that is an experience he doesn't exactly want an encore of.

"Look at me, Mike."

He wasn't even aware that he closed his eyes, but Harvey's voice is so insistent that he has no choice but to do as he says and meet the dark brown gaze. Harvey wordlessly increases the pressure of his second finger against Mike's hole, and for a moment, Mike is tempted to tell him to stop and end this right here. However, he knows that if he does, he's never going to give this another try even though the experience hasn't been unpleasant so far. Not exciting either, but definitely not unpleasant.

It feels like a hundred different thoughts racing through his mind in the span of maybe a second or two. It's too much even for him, and it's only when he realizes that Harvey is still looking at him that he comes to the realization that thinking is highly overrated, that while this isn't feeling overwhelming so far, it isn't feeling bad or painful. He already has one foot across the line, he might as well take the leap.

"Don't stop."

Harvey holds his gaze for a moment longer, and Mike is almost sure that there's a slight smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. It's gone as quickly as it appeared, and then that second finger presses into him at the same time as Harvey's lips close around the head of his cock again, and…

Harvey's mouth feels amazing, but the second finger doesn't slide in as easily as the first did, despite the lube. It's not painful, but the fingers are undeniably stretching him, and there's a definite burn as Harvey pushes them into him. Not unbearably so, but if this is supposed to convince him of the merits of anal sex, Mike still doesn't get it.

Harvey is taking his time, sliding his fingers in and out of him carefully, and while it doesn't feel intrusive and almost painful like it did with Trevor, it's like a slower, more gentle version of it. It's not bad, definitely not with Harvey's mouth on him like that, but even as the thought crosses his mind, the wonderful heat and suction around his cock is suddenly gone.

Mike's eyes fly open and he draws a breath to protest, but before he can bring out a single word, Harvey slides his fingers into him again, deeper than before and he crooks them, and Mike's vision explodes in a burst of white. It feels like an electric shock running through every single nerve ending in his entire body, a sharp stab of arousal that has his hips arching off the mattress, and he's pretty sure that the sound that escapes his lips is bordering on obscene.


It's incoherent, and it takes Mike a moment to realize that he's moving his hips back against Harvey's hand, actively trying to get his fingers to do that again. Harvey, the bastard, chuckles, but after a moment he obliges, pushing into Mike again and brushing his fingers against his prostate, and now Mike gets it. Now he understands why people are willing to go through the stretch and burn, because if it leads to such a jolt of pure, unabashed lust and arousal shooting through his entire body, pooling hot in his belly and pulsing into his straining and leaking erection, then yeah – Mike's fully on board with this.

"God," he all but croaks out. "Do that again."

Harvey does, and the spike of pleasure that follows is so bright and sharp that Mike thinks it's about to fry his brain. He's not sure, but he might have blurted out the demand for again and don't stop and oh my god in the middle of the resulting full-body shudder. It's the only explanation he has for the way Harvey chuckles again and teasingly runs a finger of his free hand along the length of Mike's straining erection.

"Don't tell me you didn't know about your prostate."

Of course he does. Intellectually, Mike knows very well that he has a prostate, and that it's supposed to be one of the perks of anal sex, but it's not like there were many situations where he could have taken it for a test drive before. As if to make up for his silent admission, Harvey shifts his fingers again, and as far as Mike is concerned they could do this for the entire night.

"It's a bit like the Yeti." His arousal must have fried parts of his brain, because the words slip out without prior thought, and there's definitely no brain-to-mouth filter at work right now. "People claim that it exists, and there's…god…there's fuzzy pictures on the internet, but there's no real proof until you…see it for yourself."

The fingers still inside of him, and as Mike looks up he finds that Harvey is looking at him incredulously, eyes wide and the corners of his mouth twitching as if he's trying not to laugh. He doesn't, though it looks like a close thing for a moment. Instead he shakes his head at Mike's words and rubs his fingers against Mike's prostate again.

"You are still way too coherent."

Mike doesn't think that rambling on about the similarities between the Yeti and the human prostate gland can be called coherent in the best of circumstances, but he doesn't even think about protesting as Harvey leans in closer, a smirk playing around the corners of his lips as if he's about to reveal a secret.

"I'd say it's about time I did something about that."

And he does.

Between the two fingers he has inside Mike and his seemingly unerring knowledge about the human prostate and what to do with it, Harvey manages to reduce Mike to a moaning, incoherent mess that's writhing on the sheets in a matter of minutes. Not that Mike minds. He's greedy, he knows that, but he wants more of this, right now, right here, and for as long as humanly possible. It feels like an electric current running through his entire body every time Harvey's fingers slide into him, and his hips seem to have developed a mind of their own because they're actually moving back against Harvey's fingers, trying to get them deeper, at just the right angle…

He's so engrossed in the feeling that the third finger takes him a little by surprise. Harvey slides it in slowly, and even though Mike thinks he couldn't possibly be more relaxed now that Harvey's fingers against his prostate have practically dissolved his bones, there's a definite feeling of being stretched. He can't deny that it burns, no matter how careful Harvey is trying to be. Maybe three fingers are simply too much, maybe they should have stopped at two and called it a night. Or maybe he's simply not cut out for this no matter all of Harvey's reassurances, and Mike was right with drawing the line after all…


Unerringly, Harvey's fingers find his prostate again, and hell yeah, the pleasure definitely starts to outweigh the discomfort. The burn is gradually lessening, and his cock is still hard against his stomach, steadily leaking precome whenever Harvey's fingers brush against his prostate. Mike is ready and willing to rename it a magic spot, to build an altar in its honor and worship it – and maybe Harvey right along with it, because it seems illegal that something should feel this good.


Mike bites his lip, but even through the lusty haze that's filling his head he can clearly hear Harvey chuckle.

"That's the general idea."

Harvey's voice sounds amused, but there's a strain to it, too, as if he's struggling to keep himself in control. His fingers are moving easily now, the burn almost gone as he slides them into Mike. He's shamefully neglecting Mike's cock though, and while those fingers in his ass start to feel good, amazing really whenever they brush against his prostate, it's enough to bring him closer and closer towards the edge, but not enough to push him over.

He cants his hips back almost desperately, trying to get those fingers in deeper, at just the right angle, anything to give him that final push over the edge.

Trust Harvey to be contrary and do the exact opposite of what Mike wants. He withdraws the fingers and completely ignores Mike's moan of protest. Mike would have never thought it possible, but the loss of those fingers leaves him feeling strangely empty and bereft. He's about to say something when there's a touch to his hip, nudging him to roll over. This part he knows, and at least this time he's not going to end up with his face pressed into a couch cushion while the rest of his body is hanging half off the couch to make up for the lack of space.

But Harvey's hand stops him before he can roll over entirely, fingers warm and firm against his hip as he holds him in place almost effortlessly.

"Not tonight," Harvey rasps out. "Much advantage to that angle that we can explore later, but I'm not going to take you facedown the first time."

There's a whole lot in that statement that Mike's brain could get busy trying to figure out – Harvey said later, like he's convinced that they're going to do this again, but is there going to be a later or another time if Mike chickens out and stops this now? It's just…he's not even sure he wants to stop this. He can't deny the pleasant shiver that ran down his spine the moment Harvey said he was going to take him, and…maybe he wants this a lot more than he ever thought possible.

He rolls onto his back once more as Harvey nudges his hip again, and he realizes that Harvey pushed a pillow under his hips. At least now he understands what all the rolling over was for, and something tightens in his chest in anticipation of what is going to happen now. He's still not sure about this, not entirely, but the sight of Harvey kneeling between his legs like that, chest rising and falling in time with his rapid breaths, his cock hard and straining in obvious arousal, is more than enough to gloss over the insecurities for now.

A small part of him still wants to tell Harvey to stop, but he firmly tells that little voice in the back of his head to shut the fuck up. Not now, when he already has two feet firmly on the other side of the line and it doesn't really compare to anything Trevor did that made Mike draw the line in the first place. Besides, the sight of Harvey tearing open the foil around the condom and rolling it down his cock is almost more than he can bear, and definitely not a view he'd want to miss. His fingers twitch, and if he wasn't as loose-limbed and relaxed as he's feeling right now, he'd be up in a sitting position already to take the job off Harvey's hands.

As it is, Mike's not entirely sure his body would follow his commands to move even if he wanted to, but he's perfectly content for now to watch Harvey roll the condom down his length and squeeze some more lube onto his fingers to spread over the latex. Harvey's breathing is fast and hitched, and when he looks up and meets Mike's eyes, the sheer lust on his face is almost too much, an expression Mike would have never thought to see directed at him.

Screw Trevor and screw the goddamn line, this is happening right now and Mike's done having second thoughts about anything. Just like he's done having Harvey at a distance, out of reach and out of touch. He doesn't know where take the energy or coordination from, but the moment those thoughts cross his mind Mike is scrambling into an upright position, hands reaching almost frantically for any part of Harvey he can touch. They finally settle on Harvey's left shoulder and the back of his neck, pulling the older man in for a bruising kiss.

Harvey is quick to adapt, meeting Mike's lips halfway and kissing him for all that he is worth, and Mike gets so lost in the feeling that at first he's not even aware that Harvey lowers them back down into a lying position, supporting his weight on one forearm as he slots their bodies together. It's only when Harvey breaks away from the kiss that Mike forces himself to open his eyes. Harvey is looking right back at him, eyes dark with desire but clearly holding himself back from taking the next step. His free hand, the one that isn't holding up his weight, is radiating heat into the skin of Mike's inner thigh, and almost without conscious thought Mike lets his legs fall open wider in silent agreement.

Harvey shifts above him until Mike can feel the press of his slicked up cock against his hole, and a moment later Harvey is pushing into him and…


It's one long, torturously slow stroke with which Harvey moves into him, and it's different than his fingers, fuller and more, and the breath catches in Mike's throat as Harvey bottoms out. There's no real pain, just a slight burn that accompanies the feeling of being filled entirely, in a way he wouldn't have thought possible. Mike feels like all he can do is cling to Harvey, blunt nails digging into the skin of the older man's back. It's different than Mike remembers, fuller, better, and Harvey isn't even moving yet. Instead, he's holding himself perfectly still above and inside Mike, and his weight on top of him doesn't feel restrictive like it did when Trevor was lying across his back, pushing him down into the couch…

"Breathe, Mike."

Harvey's voice is strained but determined, and distantly Mike registers that yes, he's been holding his breath ever since Harvey began pushing into him. He starts sucking air into his oxygen-deprived lungs even as his body starts shifting beneath Harvey's, searching for friction, another angle, movement, anything but this torturous wait for what's going to happen next. It seems like just the right idea to slide one of his legs up the back of Harvey's thigh until his calf brushes against the firm swell of his ass.

"Mike," Harvey breathes out, and this time it doesn't sound like a question, or another attempt to reassure himself that what he's doing is okay for Mike. Instead, it sounds almost reverent, as if Harvey of all people can't believe this is happening right now, and hearing this new tone in Harvey's otherwise always so self-assured voice surprises him.

He doesn't get much time to contemplate this any further, though, because after a few moments of further delay, Harvey finally pulls his hips back and starts to move. His thrusts are shallow at first, careful and contained movements that leave Mike reeling with the new sensations. It feels full, fuller than Harvey's fingers did, and the knowledge that this is Harvey inside of him, Harvey's cock moving almost too carefully in and out of him almost makes him hold his breath again from the intensity.

Almost unconsciously, Mike slides his hands up the broad expanse of Harvey's back, reveling in the feeling of hot and sweat-slick skin underneath his fingers, until his hands close around the top of Harvey's shoulders and he pulls the other man down for another kiss. It's difficult to kiss and breathe at the same time, especially now that Harvey's cock is moving more easily inside of him, and it feels as if he can't draw enough oxygen into his lungs no matter how hard he tries.

Harvey's strokes are getting longer and more forceful, and as he withdraws yet another bit and pushes in again, his cock brushes against Mike's prostate, and Mike can't help but break the kiss to throw his head back and moan. Harvey immediately takes the opening and dives in, his lips and tongue hot against Mike's throat and jaw as he kisses his way along his skin.

Mike is still running his hands over every inch of skin he can reach, but it doesn't feel like enough compared to what Harvey is making him feel, driving moans and small exclamations of pleasure from him every time his cock slides in an out and brushes over his prostate. It doesn't even begin to compare to what he experienced before, and he wants to make this as good for Harvey as it feels for him.

Harvey succeeded quite well in reducing him to a loose-limbed and completely relaxed state, but the next time he slides into him, Mike tightens his muscles, clenching tightly around his cock.


Harvey immediately stills above him, and that's a reaction Mike hasn't expected. Harvey quickly brings a hand down between them to clench tightly around the base of his cock, and the expression on his face is almost pained – eyes screwed tightly shut, teeth clamped down on his lower lip, his nostrils flaring as he tries to take deep breaths.

"Oh fuck," he breathes out again from between clenched teeth, and Mike can't help but start worrying at the reaction.


Harvey shakes his head slightly as he continues to take deep breaths. He's so tense his muscles are almost quivering underneath Mike's hands, and it takes a few long moments until he opens his eyes and looks down at Mike. His eyes are dark with arousal, though, and the expression on his face is one of pure, unabashed lust.

"Fuck, Mike." Harvey's otherwise impeccable eloquence seems to be reduced to a one-syllable staccato, and the tight control in his voice makes a pleasant shiver run down Mike's spine.

"You do that again and this…" another deep breath, "this is going to be over embarrassingly quick."

It hits Mike then that Harvey is tethering on the edge, that Mike has been focused so much on his own pleasure that he didn't even notice that Harvey was so close that Mike's almost involuntary tightening around him nearly sent him tumbling into his climax. It's…Mike doesn't even have the words to properly describe how that sudden realization makes him feel. He gets it now, though, what Harvey meant earlier when he said what a turn-on it is to take your partner over the edge. It's more than just a turn-on.

It's a thrill.

He can't wait to see Harvey fall apart, to make Harvey fall apart in any way he can. Thrill is exactly the right way to describe that feeling.

Mike can't help it, he has to pull Harvey down into another heated kiss, and Harvey meets him hungrily, kissing back with almost desperate fervor. Mike tangles one of his hands in the short hair on the back of Harvey's head, fully intending to keep that wicked mouth as close as humanly possible. He'll allow for breathing space, but that's as far as he's willing to let Harvey get away from him, and that only because the feeling of Harvey's breath on his face should be labeled as an aphrodisiac in its own right.

A few more incredibly breathless moments later, Harvey shifts on top of him and his hips start to move again. His cock is moving more easily now, sliding in and out of Mike with no resistance or discomfort, and it feels good. Not just those moments when Harvey's cock shifts against his prostate, but all of it. It's light-years away from what sex with Trevor felt like. This feels full and heady and arousing in ways Mike didn't imagine before, and he wants more, wants for this to last, never wants for Harvey to stop taking him like this.

Mike clings to Harvey's shoulders almost desperately, his left foot searching for purchase against the mattress while he tries to slide his right leg higher up against Harvey's hip, trying to get Harvey to move deeper, at an even better angle. He's approaching the edge in rapid steps, can feel his arousal coil tightly in his belly. He's no longer sure he's entirely in control of what he's doing – his hands are roaming almost mindlessly over every bit of exposed skin he can reach, Harvey's back, shoulders, face, chest, arms and then back again in a mindless and endless repeat of skin on skin.

He's too far gone, though, and when Harvey shifts atop of him to slide a hand between their bodies and wrap it around Mike's cock, the tight coil of arousal inside of him starts to unravel. He's distantly aware of his own gasps and moans, and just a slight bit more aware of the fact that Harvey isn't able to stay quiet, either. He's breathing harshly, and his lips are constantly forming soundless words that he presses into the skin of Mike's neck and against his lips in between the sharp, almost guttural moans he's making.

It's heady and great, and nothing like what Mike thought it could be, but he's too far gone to last, no matter how much he wants to. Harvey's hand around his cock is tight, moving in time with his thrusts. The movement of his hips is getting faster, more erratic, and then he pulls out almost entirely and thrusts back in forcefully while his thumb skirts around the head of Mike's cock, and it's too much.

Mike's hips arch up and his whole body tenses in that one split-second before the wave crests and Mike tumbles into the brilliant relief of orgasm. Harvey's name is on his lips, but for the life of him Mike can't say whether it ever makes it past his lips as some sort of legible sound. His fingers are digging into Harvey's shoulders, blunt fingernails leaving crescent-shaped indentations in the sweat-slick skin and his vision whitens out as he comes between their bodies.

It's a full-body shudder that runs through Mike and Harvey pushes him through it, fucking into him with sharp, erratic thrusts that should feel uncomfortable against his sensitive nerves, but which only makes him clench around Harvey as tightly as he can, trying to pull Harvey over the edge along with him. A few more thrusts and Harvey stiffens above him as his climax hits him and he comes with a loud moan, panting hotly against the side of Mike's neck as his hips keep on jerking in little thrusts.

For a few endless seconds they seem to hang suspended in this, connected as closely as possible, and it feels almost like a spell being broken when Harvey settles on top of him with an exhausted sigh. He's by no means a lightweight, but for the moment Mike doesn't want it any other way, wants to feel as much of Harvey's skin pressed against his own as he possible can.

Damn, but those endorphins are doing funny things to his brain chemistry and thought process.

After what feels like a small eternity – wonderful, endless moments of floating bliss – Harvey starts pressing a line of kisses up Mike's throat and along his jaw, and it seems like the most natural thing to just turn his head and capture those lips with his own. The kiss is slow and leisurely, just as sated and content as Mike is feeling, and he'd be satisfied to just stay like this for the rest of the night.

Eventually though, Harvey breaks the kiss and starts to shift atop of him. Mike can't suppress the small wince of discomfort as Harvey pulls out, and he can't deny that he's feeling a little sore as he shifts his hips off the pillow and moves into a more comfortable position while Harvey takes off the condom and vanishes into the adjourning bathroom to dispose of it.

Mike is not quite sure what's going to happen next, though. He's naked and messy in Harvey's bed, and right now he feels almost boneless and would really prefer not to get up – or move – anytime soon. He wants to curl up against Harvey and drift off to sleep, but it's not as if they have done this before. Mike has no clue what kind of protocol Harvey has in place for this situation, and that thought alone is enough to keep him from drifting off to sleep, no matter how much his body might want to.

He opens his eyes when Harvey steps up to the bed again. He has obviously cleaned himself up, though his hair is still an adorable mussed-up mess. Up close, there's a number of small love bites and bruises around his collarbones and against his throat that stand out clearly against his tanned skin. Mike doesn't even remember putting them there, but the thought that there's a visible reminder of what they just did sends a small flutter through his stomach.

Harvey is holding a washcloth, and it should be embarrassing to just lie back and let him wipe away the come on his stomach and the excess lube between his legs, but Mike's not too sure he'd be capable of any kind of coordinated movement right now. Considering what they just did, a little help during the clean-up process really shouldn't matter.

Besides, once Harvey is done he puts the washcloth away, tugs the duvet free and lies down on the bed beside him again. At first Mike is unsure what he's supposed to do now, how he's supposed to act, but fortunately Harvey takes that decision away from him by shifting closer, right into his personal space. At first Mike's not sure that this is really happening, but Harvey's arm around his waist definitely feels real, Harvey's warm body against his definitely is real, and if there were any lingering doubts remaining, they dispel as soon as Harvey pulls him into another slow and lazy kiss.

This Mike can do. Kissing Harvey is something he can do without worrying about what's going to happen next. All too soon though, Harvey breaks the kiss and shifts away, creating enough distance between them to properly look at each other. Mike blinks a few times against the sated fatigue that's pulling at him.

"So," Harvey finally says, and his voice still holds that slightly rough note that practically oozes sex and contentment. "To come back to our earlier conversation."

It takes Mike a moment to process what Harvey is saying, and once he realizes that the other man asks something of him that requires a higher level of coherency, he can't entirely hold back a groan.


It's slurred, and probably sounds a bit more like 'sehly?', but judged by the way Harvey's lips turn up into a sly smile, he understood just fine.

"Seriously. You know, the conversation where you adamantly stated that you don't like anal sex."

The damn grin doesn't waver, and Mike admits defeat and shifts closer so that he can bury his face against Harvey's neck. He takes a deep breath, the warm skin smelling like sweat and sex and something that's purely Harvey, and he could just close his eyes and fall into a content and sated slumber right here, if only Harvey would let him.

"You're way too coherent," he mumbles, and at the very same moment remembers how Harvey said something similar to him a little while ago, when he was rambling on about how his prostate was like the Yeti, and god, did he really say that? Really?

Harvey chuckles again and shifts them closer once more, giving in to the fact that this conversation isn't going to take place while holding eye-contact.

"I'm just saying. You seemed pretty adamant about your opinion and about that line of yours earlier, though I have to say the way you were moaning and groaning unashamedly contradicts that statement somewhat."

Mike doesn't need to see Harvey's face to detect the amusement in his words. There's something else in his voice though, and if Mike wasn't still floating in that sated, content haze, he'd probably pay a lot more attention to it. As it is, he fights his instinctive reaction to bury his face against Harvey's neck and hide the way his cheeks are flushing at those words. He's not going to be embarrassed about the fact that he liked what he and Harvey did. But he also knows exactly where Harvey is going with this, and he's not going to give him the satisfaction of an I told you so. At least not without making Harvey work for it a lot harder than this.

"You're gloating," he mumbles, hoping to take Harvey's mind off the point he's trying to make. "Do I need to remind you what you said about gloating?"

Harvey chuckles, a sound Mike can feel as a gentle vibration against his face where it's pressed against Harvey's neck.

"I think I told you that gloating is fine as long as you don't suck at it."

The smug undertone still lingers in Harvey's voice, and while Mike knows that there's no malice in it, he can't quite suppress the urge to get in the last word.

"Well, your gloating is ruining the afterglow. It's against the rules."

His answer is a moment of almost stunned silence. "There's rules about the afterglow?"

"There should be. There are now. No gloating during the afterglow."

Harvey chuckles. "I guess I'll have to keep that in mind then."

Mike is making this whole conversation up on the spot while a large part of his brain is still taking a lust-filled vacation. It's not like he expects a whole lot of coherency from himself right now. In fact, he's glad that he managed to avoid making a complete and utter fool of himself so far, so Harvey's words take him completely by surprise. It almost sounds as if Harvey is saying that there's a realistic chance that this will happen again in the foreseeable future, but that would mean it wasn't merely a one-night occurrence in order for Harvey to prove a point, and the possible implications of that are enough to send the few functioning parts of Mike's brain into overload.

He barely notices the sound of the blanket rustling as Harvey starts to move, but he does feel the gentle tap of Harvey's fingers against his temple.

"Hey, you're still in there?"

Mike blinks and pulls back a little, enough to create some distance between them but not far enough to make eye-contact easy.

"Yeah. I…sure I am."

He can't see it clearly, but he's fairly sure Harvey is raising an eyebrow at him.

"So you just lost the capacity for coherent speech?" Even up this close, Mike can see the corners of Harvey's mouth stretch into a smug smile as soon as he says that, and a feeling of dread starts to spread in his belly.

Mike groans. "Don't…"

"Damn, but I'm good."

Mike can't believe he's really hearing this.

"Gloating, Harvey. We just talked about this."

Harvey chuckles again, but he moves along silently and without protest as Mike curls in closer against him once more. He knows that it's not about the gloating at all, that somewhere deep down Harvey wants to make sure Mike is okay with what they just did, even though he's definitely not going to deny himself the I told you so should the opportunity arise.

That kind of conversation is way too complicated for what Mike's brain is capable of processing at this moment. Also, sleep sounds like a pretty damn good idea right about now.

"No, you didn't fuck me into incoherency. Sorry. I guess you'll have to try a little harder next time."

"Next time," Harvey repeats, and even though his voice is carefully neutral, Mike thinks he detects something like…almost surprise in there. No, not quite surprise, but something that's pretty damn similar.

"Next time," Mike affirms, and can't quite hold back the amused snort as he remembers the ridiculous comparison Harvey came up with earlier, before he fucked out a few important synapses in Mike's brain. "It's like eating a really great steak, you know? No matter how well-cooked it might have been, one steak isn't enough to condemn a lifetime of staunch vegetarianism. That might take another meal or two. Maybe three."

The words leave his mouth with almost no prior thought, and it's only during the second or two of stunned silence that follow them that Mike starts worrying that it was the exact wrong thing to say. But then Harvey's chest starts heaving underneath Mike's head, and when he raises his head to look at the older man – a real feat, because Harvey's chest is warm and comfortable, and that spot on his shoulder seems to have been made for Mike to bury his face against – he finds that Harvey is laughing. Not a mere smile or one of his trademark smirks, but full-blown laughter that has him pull his free arm across his belly as if he was literally in stitches. Mike marvels a little at the sight. He doesn't think he has seen Harvey laugh like that before, loud, uninhibited and infectious. It makes him look like a completely different person, younger and more carefree, and Mike vows to make him laugh like that more often.

"I really set myself up for that one, didn't I?" Harvey forces out once the laughter has subsided.

"Yeah, you did."

Harvey opens his eyes, and though Mike misses the sight of his laugh-lines as soon as they're gone, Harvey's eyes are open and warm and the expression in them more than makes up for the lack of those adorable laugh-lines. He can't help it, he has to lean in again. Harvey's hand settles against the back of his neck and pulls him in the rest of the way until their lips meet in another kiss.

It feels good and right, and Mike forces himself to push everything else away. Trevor and what they did is in the past; this thing between Harvey and him is happening right now. Maybe it's going to be like this every time, and maybe not, but the main thing is that Harvey doesn't seem opposed to there being another time, and a time after that, and for now that's what counts.

Mike simply needs to get his priorities sorted out.

Kissing Harvey is right on top of that list at the moment.

He hopes there's going to be sleep, a shower and some food in his foreseeable future, though not necessarily in that order.

Then maybe more kissing. Or sex. Maybe both. It's the weekend, after all.

As for the line…well, he crossed it once now. He's open to taking the leap again.

The End


Part 1 ~~~~~~~~ Back to Suits ~~~~~~~~         



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