The next day is Saturday, which doesn't spell the weekend for either of them, just a slightly later start to the morning. Despite falling asleep after Mike – using his post-scene energy to get some work done – Harvey's up first, ready to take on the day. He picks up some groceries on his run, then rousts Mike out of his bed for a real, nutritious breakfast – scrambles up a couple eggs, throws together some fruit salad, adds a side of bacon. God knows, it's probably the only real food Mike's gonna eat for the rest of the day.
Breakfast is quiet, and Harvey watches Mike for drop while scanning the Times on his tablet. For all the simplicity of last night's scene, things got a little intense; Mike seems a little sluggish but no moreso than the last time he spent the night – kid's a zombie first thing in the morning. His second cup of coffee is when he starts to look alive. That's around the time he catches on that Harvey's watching and becomes uncharacteristically shy, avoiding Harvey's eyes.
"Thanks for cooking."
"You're welcome. How are you feeling?"
"Good." Mike finally meets his eyes, smiling softly. "A little sore, but good."
"I'm glad to hear it." There's obviously more, but Harvey waits him out, taking a sip of coffee and letting Mike get there in his own time.
"Hey, you said we'd debrief after a scene, right? When…how do we do that?"
"It doesn't have to be so formal. We can talk about it now if you have something to say."
Mike bites his lip and his eyes wander. "I really enjoyed what we did last night."
"I got that impression," Harvey says with humor, then loses his patience a little when Mike doesn't continue. "Mike, you don't have to cushion it if there's something you don't want to do again. You just have to tell me."
"That's not the problem," Mike says, but the admonition seems to snap him back to his usual frankness. He looks Harvey directly in the eye. "You know how I said sometimes you tap right into my brain? Last night was just a little…too close. It's not that I don't want a repeat, eventually, just…maybe some forewarning next time."
"Okay. Which part?"
Mike's eyes fall to his plate as he chases the last of his fruit, trying to stab a grape with his fork instead of just picking it up. "Some of the stuff you said towards the end, about no one noticing if I went missing…beating me so hard I wouldn't be able to leave for a week." Mike's eyes snap back up to Harvey's, pupils a little larger than the sun-filled room warrants. "That was…god. But I'm just…not yet, okay?"
Harvey nods, calm. "Add it to the list of things we have to negotiate beforehand. Are you ok?"
"Yeah, yeah. Just…a little unsettled, is all. It's not a big deal, really."
Harvey lets it lie. "Okay. What about everything else?"
"I loved the way you fucked me." Harvey lets his mouth curve, and watches intently as Mike licks his lips and sets his fork down. He doesn't say a word to stop Mike when he ducks under the kitchen table, just pushes back his chair and makes the room for Mike to crawl into the relaxed vee of his legs. "I love the way you used my ass after I'd come."
Harvey threads his fingers into Mike's bedhead and watches indulgently as Mike rubs his cheek high against Harvey's thigh. Mike doesn't touch Harvey's dick though – what a good boy – until he's guided there, mouth and nose pressed gently against his soft slacks. Mike nuzzles in and Harvey sighs.
"You were a good boy. Can you be that good for me all the time?"
Mike's teeth close softly around his shaft, giving him a jolt even through the fabric. "I'll try."
Harvey warms, and eases Mike back from his lap. "That's all I ask. Now go iron that awful suit and get to work. I need you free tomorrow morning until two."
Mike gives a mourning look to Harvey's cock, but apparently mindful of his promise, he doesn't push the issue. "I think I can manage that – what are we doing?"
"Exercising my control over your wardrobe and grooming." He draws a business card towards him across the table and hands it to Mike. "Meet me here at 9am. Shower first - carefully, everywhere - wear something that won't embarrass me, and take a cab. Don't be late."
Mike clearly wants to ask questions, but he looks at the card and hands it back. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Now go get ready."
Harvey wakes up Sunday to a particular sense of anticipation, the kind that usually precedes a day in court - a sense of certainty that he's about to dive into his element, and great things will come of it.
Getting Mike's look up to Harvey's standards may not be as glamorous as wooing judge and jury, but Harvey does love getting his way, big or small. And the opportunity to put his mark all over Mike - top to toe - is not small.
He goes for a run to burn off a bit of his buzz, showers, suits up and arrives at the men's salon ten minutes early. Mike arrives in a cab at 8:58, skating in just before the stroke of I-told-you-to-not-to-be-late. He bursts through the door like the hounds of hell are chasing him, so at least he's aware of the problem.
He's wearing...a suit, if you can call it that, somehow even uglier than the one he had on yesterday. Rene's going to curl his lip, but Harvey gives him points for trying. Though it's more likely he's just planning to go straight to work, after.
So very many things to work on. But Mike's promised to try; Harvey thinks it's going to involve a lot of explicit boundaries.
"From now on, whenever I tell you to be somewhere, I want you to subtract five minutes and consider that your actual deadline."
Mike's still breathing heavily. "Yeah - sorry, there was - "
"I don't care." He straightens Mike's tie - such as it is - and squares the knot, nearly sighing at the crumpled button collar. They're now officially wasting Joseph's time, which doesn't please him, but they need to get a few things straight before they begin. "The next few hours may not feel like a scene to you, but I'll be exercising my rights as your dom, so I want to make it clear that you need to behave accordingly. No arguments, no suggestions, and right now, no complaints. For today, your safeword is 'Harvey, may I speak with you for a moment?' Unless it comes to that, you're going to allow me and the professionals of my choice to do whatever we want. Why is that?"
Mike has settled down a little under Harvey's tone, and Harvey wants to pet him. "Because I belong to you."
"Good boy. Today, you're getting a haircut, a wax," Harvey flicks his eyes downward pointedly, "and as much of a wardrobe as I can squeeze in before two. Any questions?"
Mike opens his mouth, seems to think better of it, and closes, jaw flexing in indecision for a moment. It's the wax, Harvey would bet his bonus on it. He feels a small swell of satisfaction when Mike quells himself. He's making nice progress. "No. Thank you, sir."
Harvey allows him a small smile in reward before handing him two painkillers to throw back and the glass of water the receptionist offered him earlier. When he's done, Harvey settles his hand on Mike's neck and guides him to Joseph's chair.
"Harvey, it's good to see you!"
"Sorry we're late."
"Not a problem. This is the one you were telling me about?" Joseph's eyes skip from Mike's hair - a cut inspired by a weed whacker, near as Harvey can tell - and all the way down Mike's sad little suit.
"As you can see, his stylistic choices are not to be trusted, so he's handed all the decision-making over to me. You shouldn't listen to a word that comes out of his mouth."
Joseph bites back a smile and guides Mike into the chair. "Understood. So what are we doing with him?"
They both ignore Mike, which should press a few of his buttons. "I'd like to grow his hair out a bit, but only if you think we can find something that works on him. I don't want him looking like a Ken doll."
Joseph buries his fingers in Mike's hair, evaluating length and texture. "How long did you have in mind."
"Long enough to grab a handful."
It's forthcoming enough that Mike's face colors, and Joseph catches his eyes in the mirror, smirking. "I believe I can help you there."
Harvey settles into the next chair over - vacant on a Sunday morning - and argues with Joseph over baseball while he works. Today it's mostly a matter of tidying him up at his current length, so it doesn't take long before Joseph stops bickering with Harvey in favor of giving Mike styling instructions. The way he turns repeatedly to Harvey for any decisions is going to earn him a big tip; Mike is teetering between arousal and embarrassment.
"He'll be back in four weeks?"
"It's already on the books."
"Good. I believe Kate's already waiting for you in the back room." Joseph whips the cape off Mike and gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder - he's probably guessed their business with the aesthetician.
Getting a full wax downstairs is both unsettling and undignified - Harvey's first time was his only time, because that one time was enough. He sympathizes with how freaked out Mike is right now, but he's also enjoying the hell out of it.
Shortly after being left alone so Mike can strip his pants off and assume the position, Harvey grants him permission to vent a little - he figures it's fair to let a man complain about the hair being ripped off his balls, as long as he doesn't actually argue about it happening. It also adds perversely to Harvey's pleasure.
"I just don't understand the point, you know? Trimming, I get. Trimming is polite - you know I do, right? I keep myself very neat already."
Harvey ducks to hide his smile, and generously decides to interpret that as an offer of information, not a bid to change his mind. "Luckily for us, you don't need to understand it. You just need to throw your legs in the air and do as you're told."
That gets Mike to crack a grin, just as Harvey knew it would. "Bet you say that to all the boys."
"Only the ones I want to bend in half and order around."
A smile lingers around Mike's mouth. "There are a lot of us, are there?"
Harvey shrugs. "Not really. Right now, there's just the one."
Mike quiets, smile growing and it's not long before the door opens and Kate comes in, talking Mike through the process. Mike listens attentively - and politely - though he looks embarrassed. And horrified.
Harvey would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it.
When she begins to ask about particular preferences - are they leaving any hair above the groin or completely stripping him bare - Mike looks immediately to Harvey, and Kate follows suit. It's probably a more inadvertent submission than anything - a moment of panic, out of his element - but Harvey is pleased by it anyway.
Once that's done, the room grows quiet. Mike looks away from where Kate is prepping her tools, and like he heard Harvey's earlier schaudenfreude, he turns to him and says, "So it's an emasculation thing, right? That's what this is?"
Harvey catches Kate rolling her lips inward to suppress a laugh. He pretends to think about it. "I'd say twenty percent."
Mike is openly skeptical. "It's only twenty percent emasculation?"
"Yeah, that sounds about right. I'd frame it more in terms of removal of agency, but if your masculinity's that fragile, then sure. We can call it emasculation."
"My masculinity is not fragile." There's a panicked edge to Mike's voice as Kate starts to spread oil on his skin, turning wide eyes to Harvey as his dick starts to chub up. Harvey smirks a little, but carries on as though nothing is happening.
"I dunno, Mike, it sounds like it's about to be ripped away from you by a few ounces of wax, so it can't be all that sturdy."
Kate laughs as she starts applying wax to the base of his shaft, and Mike desperately tries to pretend he's not where he is. His breath has gone fast and shallow. "So what's the other eighty percent."
"Oh, you'll see."
"That's it? I'll see?" Mike yelps as the first strip of wax is ripped away, loud enough that there's an immediate chorus of laughter from elsewhere in the salon. Mike's dick twitches, his eyes dart to Kate, and Harvey works very hard not to laugh, himself.
"I guarantee, you'll figure out all the benefits yourself," he says, drawing Mike's attention back to him.
He keeps up the patter for the rest of the session, providing enough distraction to keep Mike calm, but not enough to negate the indignity of the exercise. Not that anything could, as he's asked to pull his legs to his chest, hold his dick out of the way, stretch the skin taut here, spread his legs differently there, hold his ass cheeks apart. Mike spends most of the sac and crack portion tomato-red, despite not being much of a blusher.
And yet Harvey guarantees some part of him enjoys the humiliation. The little looks he darts at Harvey throughout the experience aren't exactly miserable.
"Fuck." Mike can't stop squirming as they hop a cab to Rene's. He's discovering benefit #2 - though Mike may not consider it as such. Harvey does. "Christ. This is so weird. I can't stop thinking about my balls."
Mike's too preoccupied to clock the look the cabbie throws him in the rearview. Harvey doesn't even try to hide his smile.
That, Mike sees. "I'm serious! It's weird. They're so fucking naked. And my underwear is - it's there, like...rubbing."
He reaches down to adjust himself, and Harvey smacks his hand. "Don't irritate the skin."
"Oh, Jesus, I hate you." Mike presses his head back against the seat and balls up his fists, body screaming frustration. This is maybe the best idea Harvey's ever had in his life. "How am I going to get anything done today?"
"This is thirty percent, by the way." The cab slows to a stop in front of the store, Harvey swipes his credit card and gets out.
Mike scrabbles out behind him. "What's - Thirty percent of the point? Thirty percent of the point is for me to be too distracted to think of anything else? You're a dick."
Harvey turns and stills him with a firm grip. "As soon as we go inside, your leeway disappears. I think I've given you more than enough time to get this out of your system. Don't you?"
"Clearly, you've never gotten your balls waxed before," Mike grumbles.
"Whether I have or haven't is irrelevant. What is relevant here, Mike?"
Mike visibly settles under a probing look. "That it's what you want."
Harvey nods. "And why exactly are you obliged to do whatever I want?"
It's a quiet street, but few places in Manhattan are completely private. Mike darts a look at someone passing them by, and lowers his voice. "Because I'm yours."
"Which means this body...?"
"And now you have a constant reminder. It won't distract you this badly forever, but in the meantime, you'll put up with it. You know why?"
"My body is yours. And you want it this way."
Harvey gives his shoulder a squeeze. "Good boy. Now, what are the rules for today?"
"No arguments, no suggestions, no complaints. I let you and the professionals make the choices. My safeword is 'Harvey, may I speak with you for a moment?'"
"You ready to go inside?"
"Then here we go."
Rene is predictably horrified by Mike's current suit, and once he learns he'll have free reign to practice his art, he wastes no time whisking them back to a private fitting room and stripping Mike down to his shorts.
"No pinstripes for him," he mutters as he takes measure of Mike's waist. "We can't put him in the styles that you favor, if you were hoping for a mini-me. No three piece suits, no peak lapels, no stripes - he'll either disappear, or look like he's playing dress-up in daddy's suit. He needs narrow lapels, narrow ties. Light colors, for the most part - gray, or even khaki in the summer."
"I defer to your expertise," Harvey says - a magic phrase that holds the key to Rene's love for him. "I just want him to look his best."
Rene straightens from measuring Mike's inseam, and asks, "Budget?"
Before Mike can respond with no-doubt laughable numbers, Harvey says, "He's a first-year associate - nothing extravagant, we don't want him overdressed."
Rene grunts and ducks out the door, deep in the zone now and nonverbal.
"How much is this gonna set me back, anyway?"
"Don't worry about it."
Mike frowns. "I don't know if you know this, but some people have budgets."
"Are you arguing?"
That shuts Mike up for 1.5 seconds. "Harvey, you can't play that card about money."
"Want to watch me?"
"Wait, I never paid at the salon." And Harvey had been glad he'd been too dazed to notice - better here, where they have privacy, he supposes.
"I have an account. I'm not going to ask you to bear the expense of anything I require you to do as my sub."
"That's.... You can't just - with the wax, that's okay, maybe, but you can't just buy me clothes, I have a job - "
"Do I hear a safeword?"
"It's a pretty silly safeword to use when we're alone."
"Are you using it?"
Mike hesitates for a beat. "No."
"Then why are you arguing with me?"
Harvey watches Mike struggle for a moment. "We need to talk about this later."
"We can, if you'd like, but unless this is a limit of some sort, the conversation will only be to help you come to terms with my decision."
Mike stares at him blankly for a moment. "This isn't negotiable?"
"Not unless you decide that it's a limit, no. The only reason we're discussing it right now is that I realize I was remiss in mentioning the finances when we drew up our contract. If it's a limit, you should let me know right now, before we spend more of Rene's time - you can't afford him."
"I don't understand why you want this."
Harvey stands and closes the distance between them. "What did we just say outside?"
Mike looks frustrated. "That I'm yours."
Harvey strokes his hand down Mike's flank, soothing and pulling him a little closer. "And I like having things people envy. I like my things the way I like them. It's quite selfish: you can't afford to live up to my standards. And if you don't think that I'd enjoy sending you out in the world, knowing every stitch of clothing you wear is something I paid for, you're wrong. That's the kind of power trip I'd enjoy. Okay?"
"Oh." Mike's face has gone a little slack; Harvey smiles. "Yeah, okay."
"But if you want to show your appreciation after we're done here, I won't stop you."
Mike jumps a little as Rene comes through the door, and Harvey winks and settles back in the corner.
In the end, they decide on five suits for the moment. It's not nearly enough for the long run - Mike can't wear the same set of suits every week, no matter what he thinks - but they're short on time, and it's a start. In the meantime, they'll keep his look fresh with the dozen shirts and ties they're also buying.
"This is the acceptable width for your tie - not that travesty you had around your neck before, which I am confiscating for your own good." Harvey smirks as Rene gives Mike's cheek a light smack. "Don't roll your eyes at me, that tie is atrocious."
"You hit me."
"Don't be a child, it was barely a tap. And you deserve it for sulking like a teenager at good advice."
"Rene," Harvey interrupts before Mike can get himself into real trouble, "would it be possible to get the light gray tailored this afternoon? I'd rather send him to work in something decent tomorrow."
"Mm. Please burn these polyester nightmares. He can pick it up after six today - we'll be closed by seven. I can have another ready tomorrow, then he can pick up the rest on Tuesday." He whacks Mike on the hip. "Ok, strip. I have work to do."
When Mike gets back down to his undershirt and boxers - both at least a size too large - Rene shakes his head, giving Harvey a long-suffering look. "And please do something about this, would you? My suits will never hang properly over those."
Before Mike can open his mouth, Harvey jumps in. "I'll have a talk with him. In fact, would you mind if we kept the room for a little longer? We need to discuss some things in private before I send him off to work."
Rene's eyes shift from Harvey to Mike and back, looking knowing and amused. "Of course. Take your time - I'll make sure you're not disturbed."
Mike lets out a breath after the door closes behind Rene. "You enjoy that, don't you?"
"Well. All of it, really, but making it clear to all these people that I'm your...."
"Boy?" Harvey supplies. "You're being awfully mouthy right now, maybe I need to make it clearer to you."
Mike draws in a breath to speak, but then stalls out, eyes straying to the door. Rene's fitting rooms are built for privacy - four walls, a solid door, decent insulation - but Harvey can see him contemplating the lock.
"No one is going to interrupt us. Strip off your shirt and shorts."
Mike looks at Harvey and then the door. "Should I - ?"
"No. Do as you're told, I don't want to tell you twice."
There's still hesitation - not enough to call him on right now, but the kind of delay that will, eventually, earn punishment. At this point, it's enough that he doesn't argue further before taking off his clothes.
"Get on your knees."
Mike folds down onto the plush carpet with little grace, the movement still unpracticed. Whatever his reservations were before, his focus is now on Harvey, and doesn't waver. Good boy. "You can sit back on your heels. Back straight. Knees apart. Wider. Hands behind - good. Stay just like that. Look at you."
Harvey does take a few moments just to look at him. If anyone were to walk through the door, they'd see him too, just like this, bare and still for Harvey, exposed from every angle due to the tri-panel mirror. They'd see how much he likes it - cock stiffening up, pupils blown, cheeks a little flushed. Breathing heavy. The skin between his legs is red and raw from the wax and makes him look vulnerable. Harvey did that.
He fondles himself through his slacks, and Mike's eyes drop to watch him.
"I believe we discussed some sort of thank you for the money I spent on you today."
Mike's eyes return to Harvey's face, and Harvey can see just a moment where Mike is thinking too much, thinking that's unfair. He never wanted money to be spent in the first place. Harvey raises an eyebrow and smiles, letting Mike stew. Letting Mike work it through on his own. It doesn't matter whether he wanted the suits – Harvey wanted them for him. And now he owes Harvey his due.
Of course, for all Mike's good intentions, that's not enough yet. It's not until his eyes drop to the bulge in Harvey's suit pants that his frustration clears and his face settles with hunger. He didn't get his mouth on Harvey's cock yesterday morning, and now he has his chance.
"I can make it up to you, I swear."
"Mm." Harvey spreads his legs further apart and points. "Come here."
Mike crawls the distance, and Harvey traces his thumb over Mike's lip. "Now thank me, and ask to suck my cock."
Mike licks the tip of Harvey's thumb, looking through his lashes up at Harvey. "Thank you for the clothing, sir. It was very generous. May I suck your cock?"
Harvey smirks and undoes his fly. "You may."
He's been humming with low-grade arousal all day - a low simmer from exerting his will onto Mike's body. The idea of 'making' Mike give him head as quid pro quo has brought it to a slow boil, and he's already halfway hard when Mike takes him out of his pants.
"Give me your tongue." Harvey buries the fingers of one hand in Mike's hair, watching intently as Mike licks him root to tip. "Mm, I think I like that. Be a good boy and lick my cock until I tell you otherwise."
Mike's eyes list closed a little at the mix of praise and condescension, and Harvey has to toe Mike's hand away from his cock. Immediately, he has Mike's attention again.
"You don't get to come today. Or tomorrow. But thank me properly right now and you'll get something very nice on Tuesday."
There's a minor rebellion on Mike's face over the denial, but after a moment, he takes a deep breath and subsumes it. He nods and returns to licking Harvey's cock with enthusiasm, bathing it from all angles in long, silky strokes until Harvey sighs and sinks a little deeper in his chair. They're a pretty sight in the fitting room mirror - Mike pale and naked in between his legs, servicing Harvey in his power suit. Harvey lays his head back and closes his eyes, indulging himself for a moment with a few lazy pumps of his hips as Mike concentrates that clever tongue against his slit before sweeping it repeatedly around the head.
They don't have nearly long enough to enjoy this if Harvey means to keep his promise of releasing Mike by two. One of these days, Harvey's going to test how long Mike can last on his knees.
For now, they have to get down to business, though. Harvey lifts his head and takes a grip on himself. Mike looks so utterly absorbed in his task that it makes Harvey's dick throb. "Time to suck."
Mike's eyes flash up to Harvey's, a thin ring of blue around a black hole of lust, and he closes his lips around the head of Harvey's cock. Almost chokes himself, he goes down on Harvey so quickly.
"You little slut," Harvey hears himself say. It's strangely affectionate and derisive at the same time, and Mike's eyes flutter closed. Harvey palms his skull and revels in the headspace he's fallen so far into. "Maybe I should charge you for the privilege of sucking my cock. You sure like it enough, don't you?"
A shudder passes down Mike's spine, forcing a hungry little noise out, vibrating around Harvey's dick. He hisses, tugging Mike off by the hair. "I wanna hear you say it."
"I love your dick. I'll do anything if I get to suck it." Mike's flushed, eyes a little glazed, and he sounds utterly sincere. Harvey wants to consume him.
"Mm." He traces his fingers along the curve of Mike's cheek, and takes a deep breath. He reigns himself back under control. "Then you'll take the gifts I give without complaint."
Mike's eyes clear a bit; he wasn't expecting that. It takes him a beat but he says, "Yes, sir," like he means it.
"Good boy. Now as much as I'd like to drag this out, Rene is waiting and you have places to be. Finish me off." The words have hardly left his mouth and Mike's sucking him off with so much skill and enthusiasm that Harvey actually gasps. His fingers fist into Mike's hair, too rough, and Mike moans. "Fuck. Yeah, that's it. God, just like that."
Harvey lets his head fall back, lets his hips ride the pleasure of a truly superior – if rushed – blowjob. It may be the best he's ever had, and if the law career doesn't work out…. God, he wonders if Mike would get off on the illusion of Harvey renting out his mouth. He feels his sac tighten up at the thought.
"I'm going to come – and since I refuse to walk out of here with stains on my slacks, you're going to swallow every drop. Aren't you?"
Mike gives a quick nod, somehow redoubling his efforts until Harvey hisses out through his teeth and holds his head still for those last, instinctual thrusts.
For the record, Harvey's pants come away a bit wrinkled, but completely clean.
Harvey's whole body is humming with satisfaction as he zips up and beckons Mike to stand. The chair won't withstand the weight of them both, but Mike braces one knee between Harvey's legs, and they're close enough.
Harvey pulls him down into a soft kiss ending in a sharp nip. He wraps one fist around Mike's needy cock and Mike's breath catches. Harvey gives him the benefit of a reminder: "Don't come. You're not going to come today."
Mike blinks his eyes open and focuses on Harvey. "So." He licks his bottom lip. "How'd I do? On paying you back?"
It's an obvious bid at self-distraction, and Harvey pretends to think as Mike's face flushes and his fists curl in on themselves from their place on Harvey's shoulders. "It was a hell of a down payment, I'll give you that."
Mike hisses through his teeth. "How much was all that, anyway?"
It's important Mike know the cost of a decent wardrobe, even if he's not footing the bill. "All told, about seven grand."
Mike eyes round, momentarily distracted from his cock. "Seriously?"
Honestly, they haven't even gotten him shoes yet. "It's a start."
"Jesus." Harvey skims the edge of his fingernail against Mike's slit and all thoughts of money are gone. Mike's eyes close, breath labored. "I can't come til Tuesday?"
"No. Your skin needs a few days to heal before you enjoy the primary benefit of getting waxed for me. And I want you to enjoy it to the fullest."
"What kind of benefit are we talking about?" Mike's voice is pinched.
Harvey leans in close to his ear. "My mouth."
"Fuck. Harvey – I can't – yellow!"
Immediately, Harvey lets go of his cock, stroking Mike's side as he pants himself back off the edge. "Good boy. I want you to follow all the care instructions Kate gave you to the letter, but otherwise don't touch yourself at all. Are you with me?"
"Antibacterial stuff…no jacking off."
"No touching yourself beyond hygiene at all. You're going to pick up your first suit tonight between 6 and 6:30 for tomorrow, and tomorrow before 8 for Tuesday – they'll be open later on a weekday. On Tuesday, you're going to pick up the rest and be at my place no later than 7. What time does that actually mean?"
"Five til," Mike says. He looks calmer, but apprehensive.
"Is all that doable?"
Mike grimaces. "I'll try, but work might get in the way."
"Make time to get the suits. If there's a problem meeting me Tuesday, text when you know."
Harvey pats his hip. "Get dressed. Take a cab to the office – you should lay off the bike for a few days."
Mike snorts. "No kidding."
Harvey slaps him on the ass and sends him on his way.