Harvey's only allowed to make three people cry a week. Apparently. While Jessica had tolerated two, she informs him that four would be grounds for termination.
"You know that thing you do that makes you act a little human? Do it. Now. So I don't have to fire you."
Harvey doesn't bother to reject the premise...this is well-worn ground. Only for Jessica will he fall back on placation. "Absolutely. You're right. First thing this evening."
She levels him a look. "No. Right now. I cleared your schedule for the rest of the day, and reserved one of the firm's loaner cars. Don't step foot back in this office until I can see a valet slip."
He manages to keep his jaw off the floor through years of practice being inscrutable. "You want proof? Should I bring my own notary? After all, I might just park and never use the facilities."
"Excellent point," Jessica said smoothly. She does not back down in any way. She is actually serious.
"This is outrageous," he declares, because he's already lost but it needs to be said.
"Completely out of bounds," she agrees easily. "Get out."
Harvey turns on his heel and exits her office. He's tempted to hunt down a client of Louis's and set a record with crier number four. But he knows that he won't.
It isn't just height that she has to her advantage. Her balls are bigger, too.
It has been a while since he's been to the club, but he and Jessica differ – she labors under the illusion that it's a need, when to him, it's just a hobby. A very enjoyable hobby. One that fits him like a glove and yes, relieves a little stress when done with regularity. But nothing more than that.
He rejects the word lifestyle. On so many levels.
But if there's one thing that annoys Harvey more than that extra half-inch in heels, it's Jessica's tendency to be right; although it's not a need, something does slide into place in his head when he hits the club's foyer.
She was right to think she just needed the ticket. He couldn't come here and not stay, and somehow the woman knows it.
He came straight from the office, for reasons he won't examine, so he's still wearing his good suit – a brand new Caraceni. It's not a first for him but a rarity; Harvey tries to limit body fluids to last season’s menswear, but there’s a special kind of rush to whipping a man while he’s dressed to impress.
And this suit does impress – it gets him a wolf whistle as he approaches the front desk. Ari gives a slow appraisal that Harvey takes as his due, grinning as her eyes linger. "You look like you came straight from court. Should I worry that a lawsuit is imminent?"
Harvey tips her an eyebrow. "Have you done anything to deserve one, lately?"
"I'll hold my peace, thankyouverymuch. You know I can't afford a retainer like yours."
Harvey's smile doesn't slip at all. He keeps it light when he says, "How are things?" because he's been broke before, and understands that particular shame. Back then, it was all he expected; Areena’s fallen from the literal penthouse, which he thinks is so much worse.
On the other hand, she's only broke for a given value of it; she has a roof over her head and food in her stomach. He got her that much in court.
But barely. It was a fucking bloodbath.
Her mask is almost flawless, but he can see through the cracks. "Got everything I need."
"Do you?" It's still light, the right side of flirtation, but it hits so close he sees the mental flinch. Well, this might solve both their problems, for today. "You got some time for me, when you're done at the desk?"
They haven't played together since before the divorce. He knows she's skittish, but she took the job here so she could keep membership. At least part of her's still open to kink.
The tears that well up make him squirm inside, but she nods and he relaxes. "I'm done at six."
"Room or floor?"
"Room," she says quickly, and he should've thought about that...whatever exhibitionism she may have had before, it's probably gone. At least for now.
"Ok, set it up. On my card," he adds, and sees the moment she remembers that a room will be extra. He can see the war in her between wanting to take it back and not wanting to do a floor show. "Hey. Room's better for me. Ok?"
She doesn't believe him, but she takes the out, nodding like she's ashamed of herself and fiddling with the computer. Today won't be about taking her apart, so much as putting her together.
He can work with that. Jessica thinks that this place keeps him human by giving an outlet, a place to vent his wrath. She's only half right.
He wanders the floor while he waits for Areena. It's not busy, of course, before five on a Tuesday, but there's more action here than he'd expect. From looking around, the afternoon crowd seems split between idle rich and those hiding their membership from their spouses under the cover of long "business lunches."
It makes him glad he's never visited at this time before, and doubly glad he found Ari – he's hard pressed to find a reason he'd ever waste time with these losers.
He does linger at one scene. He's familiar with the Dom...if you'd like to call him such. Harvey's unimpressed with David, half-convinced he'd be happier on the other side of things. He's not what you'd call a natural. At first, Harvey had chalked it up to a lack of experience, but there's been no improvement...a regular for years, he still tends to overdo it.
David overcompensates. In this, as in everything.
Harvey has to cringe at the humiliating drivel that's coming from his mouth. Funny enough, that isn't Harvey's cup of tea, but he's seen those who do it well. Dave just does it...badly. Nails-on-a-chalkboard badly, and Harvey'd have to walk away if it weren't for the sub.
The sub is new. Theoretically possible he's been afternoons-only, or become a regular in Harvey's absence but. He's new. Brand new, doesn't know what he wants, or else he wouldn't be with Dave.
Because this isn't good for him.
He has no doubt the kid agreed to what's happening. The club is scrupulous and specific with scene contracts. Nor is it possible Dave pressured him. Body language says they're strangers. Plus the kid is so green, and, Harvey doesn't doubt it, new, that it's almost certain this was facilitated. The club thought they’d match, which means the kid got his own preferences wrong.
Dave doesn't see it. Dave has the instincts of a dead fish, but he's not a bad guy, in all. If the sub were blatantly unhappy, he wouldn't wait for the safeword.
But it's not that. It's just...not what the kid needs. He isn't turned on by the shaming (though...it's so badly done, who would be?). And Dave's skin-on-skin contact is nil. Completely oblivious to the way the boy's straining for it, if not physically then in spirit.
The thing is, he doesn't look unhappy, or like he even knows it's wrong. To someone less perceptive (Dave), he looks exactly right. He soaks in the degradation, genuinely welcoming the pain, like it fits him.
Not what he needs, but...what he'll get. Maybe, deserves.
Harvey shakes himself off of that mental track. There's really nothing wrong – nothing that warrants him interrupting someone's scene. Not his sub, not his problem.
Areena's his concern today.
She's plenty concerning in and of herself, and when he loads her in a cab (handing the driver plenty of cash when she's not looking), by all rights, he should be exhausted. Flattened. Instead, he feels lighter than he has in weeks.
And tomorrow, he's going to have to watch Jessica know it.
But Harvey's not one to spite his own face, and there was no good reason he stopped coming regularly...just busy, is all. And Areena's divorce left a bad taste in his mouth. Richard's lawyers trotted out things that happened on the club floor like it wasn't at least half his idea. Straight He said/She said – except the photos of Areena playing with other men, her husband never in the frame.
With a conservative judge, the tactic worked.
But it wasn't the club's fault. In fact, Richard had been banned.
It had been unlike him to let something he was good at be soured by one experience.
It's time he gets back to doing things on his own terms. Speaking of which....
His mission's made easier because Eric's at the desk. He and Eric are too similar in personality to be what you'd call friends, but they have a long acquaintance and mutual respect. "Harvey. Been a while."
"Long enough to get new faces."
"Yeah, a few." Eric grins. "Since you're not one for idle questions, I'm guessing there's one you've got in mind."
"What's the story on the kid I saw with Dave? Probably set up for four, four-thirty."
Eric turns to the computer and scrolls through the day's activity. "Oh, yeah. Mike." He frowns down at the screen.
Harvey gets that feeling, familiar from the courtroom, where he knows he's got something in the absence of any proof. "Something wrong?"
"Yeah...well, no. But. David. Just not what I expected. I helped with the kid's application...he just seemed...." Eric makes a few clicks of the mouse, and shakes his head again. "Gina set this up, so I must've got him wrong. We only talked for a few minutes." But he still looks unconvinced.
"Or," Harvey finally says, "you got him right, and he got himself wrong."
Eric blinks and his face clears. "Could be. I wouldn't be surprised, really. He was very...."
Eric flashes a grin. "Yeah. God, yeah. He claimed 'some experience,' but...." He pulls a face that says how much that's worth.
"That's what I thought. Who referred him?"
Harvey's eyebrows wing up. "Scholarship kid, huh?"
"I didn't tell you that."
"Course not." That fits. Not a trust fund brat or self-made whiz kid; too braced for disappointment. Discounted membership helps bring fresh blood and prevent a bottleneck for meeting everyone's needs, but it's a tricky thing, easy to tip towards exploitation. The staff is careful, approaching paranoid, with new members of that type.
"You want me to set up facilitation?"
"Yeah. Listen. Don't let him get with Dave again. Not til I get my hands on him."
Eric's eyebrows shoot up. "Harvey."
"I know." He gets a jolt of agitation, though the censure's understandable. So he shifts gears a little. "I'm not asking you to book something direct or break the rules. Facilitate us, by all means. But it's not in his best interest to end up in Amateur Hour. Worst case, I help you figure out where he fits."
Eric scrubs a hand over his shaggy hair. New Yorkers shouldn't dress like surfer burnouts, but wealth doesn't buy taste. "Yeah, alright. I'll make it happen."
Harvey nods, like he expected nothing less, and turns to go.
"Hey, Specter." Eric's watching him closely. "You've never given two shits about things like this. There something you know that I don’t?"
Harvey smirks. "So many things."
But it troubles him all the way home. What's special about this kid? Nothing, as far as Harvey knows. Except there's that nagging instinct. And it's never served him wrong.
K, I told myself I wasn't going to post exactly a week later, because eventually all of you are going to start salivating like good little pavlovian dogs, but then *I* started salivating, because my brain has been a sucky place lately and I'm craving a fix of your love and attention <3 speaking of which, I'll be answering comments on chapter 1 tonight.
Sorry about the yoyo effect when I tried to post chapter 2 – I was struggling with formatting to make the emails look distinct from the regular text (fuck you, AO3 *fistshake*) and the archive is a tease when chapters are in preview. I'm still not happy with it, btw (the text is too small and the line height doesn't adjust with it, so it looks...gappy), so if you have any suggestions that are AO3 compatible, please share
It's been years since Harvey scened with anyone for whom facilitation was mandatory – he doesn't play with new members all that often. Before his hiatus from the club, he'd had a well-cultivated circle of regular partners.
He's not against dealing with newbies – everyone has to start somewhere – but on the climb to senior partner, his free time had become limited enough that if he were going to make the time for a real scene and proper aftercare, it would be with someone he knew he enjoyed. Or in the least, someone experienced enough to know what they wanted.
Buying in hasn't exactly opened up his schedule, which would beg the question of why now? if Harvey didn't already know the answer.
He's been bored.
There's never a shortage of situations at work, from the slightly delicate to the can't-be-done end of the spectrum, but Harvey's been at it so long that even winning the no-win, as satisfying as that is, doesn't require his full focus the way it used to.
He needs a new challenge. Maybe that won't be this Mike kid, but he's got to start somewhere.
Of course, 'starting' is kind of the problem. After years of playing with a few well-known partners, Harvey forgot how painfully slow the official mediation process can feel. First, the facilitator checks in with both parties to go over the broad strokes and gauge interest. If that's a go, they both have to fill out or update their kink lists, which are then reviewed by the facilitator, and discussed at length in the case of someone as fresh as Mike. Then the facilitator highlights common ground and any particular circumstances all parties need to be aware of and passes these notes and the original long forms to the other party. Any scene suggestions are thrown on the table and finally, a face-to-face meeting is set up to hammer out the details.
The indirectness and bureaucracy of it all sets Harvey's teeth on edge, but the truth is, it's a policy that makes their club the safest and most positive play-space Harvey's ever found.
As onerous as it usually is, it's made more painful by Mike's apparent inability to find a time to even meet for a mediated negotiation. Gina's their facilitator – they try to match the orientation of the staff member with the newbie, and she's not only the most experienced sub on staff, she's the club's owner. Harvey knows the policy was born of her own bad experiences; she handles most of the facilitation for new subs herself.
She's also an old friend of Harvey's, and the only person that can make the process tolerable for him.
Since he initiated the whole thing and Gina knows him so well, he's mercifully left out of the first few steps. They have his limits on file but she does make him review the form because 'that was three years ago – for fuck's sake, quit whining and take a minute to make sure nothing's changed.'
The next time she actually involves him is when she gives him Mike's list. It's not a tool he chooses to employ unless he's made to, but it's something he enjoys, actually. Gina's lists are so comprehensive it's dazzling, and Harvey almost forgot that with a new partner, it can feel like glutting yourself on Christmas morning, when there are so many new and surprising things under the tree that you're spoiled for choice on what you want to play with first.
Mike's interests seem to be open and varied, so Harvey doesn't just get the core kink form but all the ancillary forms breaking broad activities down into specifics. The kid's decisive; he's assigned some kind of opinion to the overwhelming majority of items. Considering he's only had one scene, that means there's either been a lot of research or discussion with Gina or both – it's probably all academic to him at this point and his opinions are going to shift as he learns more. But it's a good sign that Mike is this engaged, this early on – this comfortable, this curious.
Plus, it gives Harvey a lot to work with, even at the shallow end of the pool. Within days, he's constructed half a dozen possible scenes that would work as a first, so it's disappointing when their face-to-face negotiation is postponed.
It's annoying when their second is canceled as well.
The third time Gina calls him to reschedule, Harvey just asks her: “Is this cold feet?”
“I don't think so. This happened last time, too, but he did eventually scene with Dave.”
“An unfortunate event that may have put him off the whole thing altogether,” Harvey says. “But assuming it hasn't, what's the problem?”
There's a shrug in her voice. “From the sound of it, his boss is a hardass and he's the lowest man on the totem pole. He's as frustrated about it as you.”
Harvey remembers it well. “In other words, we could be doing this indefinitely. I'm not sure I want a new sub this badly.” He pauses. “Wait a minute, the scene with Dave was the middle of the afternoon on a week day.”
“Apparently he told his boss he had a doctor's appointment that couldn't be moved.”
“I didn't realize you could call 'out kinky.' Shoulda had Dave break out a speculum, to keep it on the up-and-up.” She laughs, and Harvey dryly concludes, “I could always catch him in a few years, when he's been promoted.”
“Mm. I don't want to see you give up on this one yet, Harvey. I think you'd like him. He has good instincts, even if he hasn't worked out exactly what he wants yet – and he's a mouthy little shit, the rest of the time. Truth is, if you hadn't talked to Eric, I probably would have approached you about him, seen if you were interested. He made me think of you.”
Well, now Harvey's really interested; Gina has excellent judgment.
They both fall quiet, and a plan starts to coalesce in Harvey's mind.
“I have an idea. It's not the way you normally do these things, but we could still finish your song and dance later, when he can make the time. Worst case, we'll discover we don't want to bother.”
Gina agrees with his proposal and says she'll take it to Mike; for once, things run smoothly and Harvey has an answer by the next morning – Mike agreed to the broad terms, and Gina just wants him to sketch out the 'scene' so specifics can be nailed down.
“See, that doesn't work for me,” Harvey starts, and on the other end of the line, Gina groans and starts muttering slurs on his parentage (accurate, really), and beseeching all higher powers for patience. “Now, now, no need to get nasty. I've just decided this is going to be a lot more effective if he doesn't know what to expect.”
“Harvey - ”
“Look, do you trust me?”
“For reasons I can't currently fathom.”
“I have his paperwork, I'll steer clear of crossing limits. We're just going to be talking – don't make me spell out every goddamn little thing.”
“You still need to negotiate terms, Harvey – make that one of them, and see what he says. You're going to negotiate time frame, safewords, and expectations and you're going to do it in writing, or you're going to learn that I know what to do with the business end of a paddle.”
Harvey grins, delighted. “I don't think you've given me that ultimatum since 2007.”
It turns into a laugh when her end of the line abruptly disconnects.
The email address Gina provided is one of the first-name-only addresses that come with membership; Harvey never uses his, but she requires them to be used for initial contact.
He gives himself a day to think on the terms he'd like to present, although he's got a fair idea of how he'd like things to play out. Domming by phone is something he's only done a few times, and always in the context of an established relationship; dominating a stranger this way, and someone new to the scene, at that, is a whole new ballgame. It could easily fall flat, and the very real possibility makes the exercise fresh and exciting.
The kid's still a wild card, as is their chemistry, but Harvey's cautiously optimistic based on what Gina has told him.
The trick is how much he should lay down to placate Gina and give Mike a fair frame of reference for what Harvey expects from him, and how much of his plan to keep in his pocket. His previous phone sessions have largely retread ground already familiar from actual scenes; that obviously won't work here, and he thinks the success is going to be more tied to unpredictability than anything else.
By Monday evening, he has an outline that should serve everyone's purposes.
Sent: Monday, August 8, 2011 10:18 PM
Subject: terms & expectations
I'm looking forward to getting to know you by phone until your schedule allows us to meet. Based on my understanding of your schedule, I'd like to begin on the afternoon of Sunday, August 14th, until early afternoon of Sunday, August 21st. I'd like you to clear that first afternoon of any distractions, if at all possible, so we can discuss your soft limits, fantasies, interests and personal history. If all goes well, we'll have a scene of some sort before we hang up that evening.
The following week, I expect you to check in with me twice a day by phone: once on your lunch break – ideally with some degree of privacy, but if that can't be arranged, a short business-like call will suffice – and once after you're home, anytime between 8pm and 1am.
For the duration of the week, I promise to:
* respect the hard limits outlined in the long-form negotiation checklist Gina provided,
* respect the soft limits marked on the same checklist, and any clarifications you provide during our initial conversation or any time thereafter,
* respect the safe word(s) you provide in your response to this email,
* honestly and seriously address any and all questions/concerns you have at any point during the week, and
* reward and punish you fairly, where the detailed expectations and consequences of your behavior will be outlined clearly ahead of time.
Within the confines of the above, I expect you to:
* abide by the agreed-upon check-in schedule to the best of your ability,
* arrange for uninterrupted time with me on Sunday the 14th
* arrange your schedule that week for three (3) additional uninterrupted periods of time for a scene or extended conversation (duration not more than four hours but no less than one),
* follow any direction I provide you by phone accurately, thoroughly and promptly,
* carry out any orders I give for later execution to the best of your ability, and inform me of any infraction or failure to complete a task upon our next check-in,
* use your safe word(s) if given an order you're not willing or able to follow,
* raise any concerns or questions you have for me during the week, and
* be completely honest in your communication, forgoing lies, deceitful phrasing and tactical omission.
I look forward to hearing any suggested changes or additions to these terms.
Harvey knows Gina is typically working at this time of night on a Monday, so he's unsurprised to get a response from her moments later.
Sent: Monday, August 8, 2011 10:22 PM
Subject: re: terms & expectations
Only a lawyer lays out this many words to say absolutely nothing. I'll leave it up to him if he agrees to this pile of bullshit for the phone calls, but don't think I'll let you get away with it when it comes to setting up his scene.
Harvey grins to himself and hits reply.
Sent: Monday, August 8, 2011 10:23 PM
Subject: re: terms & expectations
Let me guess – I try, I get thirty whacks with a hair brush?
Sent: Monday, August 8, 2011 10:25 PM
Subject: re: terms & expectations
Right instrument, right part of your anatomy, wrong application. Think: handle. And if you're nice, lube.
God, he loves this woman. He dashes off a quick response before calling it a night.
Sent: Monday, August 8, 2011 10:26 PM
Subject: re: terms & expectations
Love it when you sweet-talk me. Good night, Gina.
He left the club account open on his personal computer, so he sees that Mike has responded the next morning when he's checking the weather forecast. He scans it and then sets it aside until breakfast is made and his first cup of coffee has started to kick in.
Which is when he realizes it's five in the morning, and checks the timestamp on Mike's email – 2:36. It makes him wonder if the bounds he set for their evening phone call are going to be feasible or if this was just an especially late night for the kid.
Sent: Tuesday, August 9, 2011 02:36 AM
Subject: re: terms & expectations
I can agree easily enough to the schedule – I'll almost definitely need to work on Sunday the 14th, but I should be able to free up my afternoon and evening with this much notice. I'm afraid I might end up exercising your “best of my ability” provision, because my boss's Napoleon complex makes Bonaparte look 'French.'
Harvey smirks and has a flashback to Daniel Hardman and the bullpen. Couldn't pay him enough to repeat those years. Hell, they didn't pay him enough to do it the first time, looking back on it.
He turns back to the rest of Mike's email, coffee in hand.
While I have no contention with the spirit of your other terms, I have a few additions and restrictions:
* I agree to be honest in all things except in regards to details of my career, work, professional life, and schooling. I also prefer to keep my last name and address private at this time. Not only will I refuse to share information of that nature, I reserve the right to terminate our contract immediately if you ask or pursue the subject(s).
* I refuse to follow any orders that I deem likely to damage my professional reputation or interfere in any way with my job, and the determination of whether an order qualifies for this exception will lie with me.
* I reserve the right to postpone a report on failure to follow an order by one check-in, if I'm unable to arrange for enough privacy to comfortably discuss it.
* Failure to follow through on the promise for clarification and future discussion on any given topic will be grounds for terminating the contract immediately. My agreement is provisional upon the understanding that these terms are a starting place.
Safe words - I like the simplicity of the traffic light system, and red, yellow or green would be simple enough to slip into conversation even if I'm at the office. As a backup plan for work hours, “Mr. Fenton” as a stop word.
Harvey reads the list over several times to make sure there's nothing he's missing, nothing he really objects to, and then sends a quick email agreeing to the additional terms.
He sits back and finishes his coffee, considering Mike.
He doesn't need to ask about the kid's profession, because he tipped his hand already – it's obvious he's a lawyer, or maybe a paralegal. Either way, he understands contractual language well enough to recognize the loopholes in Harvey's original email and adequately close them.
Harvey finds it interesting that the only provisions Mike seemed to be interested in adding revolve around protecting his career. He clearly picked up on Harvey's half-assed vaguery just like Gina did, but there weren't any limits in the traditional sense he chose to assert or emphasize ahead of time in writing, with Gina as witness. Just the job stuff.
The inclusion of those points in particular isn't surprising – especially if he's a lawyer, starting out in one of the big firms. All of them are still some degree of a conservative WASPy boys' club – even Harvey's, any impression he or Jessica might leave to the contrary.
It's the focus on that topic to the exclusion of all others that interests him.
He'll figure it out eventually. He won't even have to break the contract to do it, if this is how easily Mike telegraphs his intentions. He hopes for the kid's sake there's someone at work training that out of him, or he'll never get anywhere.
I feel like I should warn you that this chapter is a complete and utter cocktease – no porn, and it ends in a porn!hanger. If you’re prone to wanting to rip my guts out for that, you might wanna wait for chapter 4 to go up. Although, tbqh, there’s a cocktease element to that chapter too. Heh.
Harvey checks in with Mike by email that Saturday, just to confirm that he's still free the next day; if the kid's actually a junior associate as Harvey suspects, then he really doesn't have any veto power over whatever crap 'Napoleon' might choose to foist on him at the last moment.
Mike emails back late that night to say they're on, and Harvey responds with his phone number and the instruction to take a few hours once he gets back to his apartment: relax, take a shower, take care of anything that needs to be done around the house before Monday. Clear his head. Then call.
For Harvey's own part, he enjoys a lazy breakfast out on the deck, then puts in a couple hours of work and goes out for groceries – he gets a weekly delivery, but nothing appeals to him for dinner, and sometimes he likes to go himself, trade quips with Kim, the store owner, who mans the register himself on Sundays.
By the time he's stowed things at home, he has a few more hours to kill, and it's an unseasonably cool day for August in the city. He throws on sweats and sneakers and hits one of the shorter trails in the park.
He's feeling loose and clear by the time he starts throwing together the stew he's making for dinner, and his timing is impeccable – he has the chance to pick out a record before Mike calls, but not enough to settle on a book.
Or he assumes the call is Mike – it’s almost five o’clock and they did say afternoon. He puts on the hands-free and answers with a neutral, “Hello?” in case the unfamiliar number belongs to someone else.
“Is this Harvey? It's Mike.”
Harvey settles in on the deck, looking out over the city. “Hi, Mike. Did you do as I asked?”
“Wha - ”
“The fact that you don't know what I'm talking about already concerns me,” Harvey says lightly. Tone is such a delicate balance with a new sub, and this set of circumstances in particular make it crucial. Taking clear control, without coming down too hard. “When did you get home from work, Mike?”
“Oh. Uh, like. One.”
The lawyer in Harvey cringes internally at the verbal stumble. “And then?”
There's an audible breath, and when Mike speaks again, he's a little more collected. “Grabbed a shower. Did a load of laundry, cleaned up my place – I haven't spent a whole afternoon here in weeks, so it was a mess. Then I called you.”
“Good. It sounds like we're off to a good start, then. One question – what are you having for dinner?”
Harvey's expecting the way Mike flounders, planned for it, and would have been perversely disappointed if Mike hadn't failed this test. “I'm...I hadn't thought about it. My fridge is empty.”
“I told you that before you called me this afternoon, you should take care of anything that would require your attention – that I wanted you free from distraction. You didn't think making decisions about what to eat would distract you? Or you weren't planning on eating?”
“I didn't think – ”
“You have twenty minutes to decide what to do, and I hope for your sake the store is close, because every minute beyond that twenty is a day this week you don't get to come.”
Harvey hangs up, committing the exact time to memory, and closes his eyes, thinking about the way Mike is probably scrambling for shoes and keys at the moment. Maybe he's considering take-out as a solution, but hopefully he's smart enough to quickly realize it's not an option – no place can deliver within the allotted time frame and he won't be allowed to put Harvey on hold for a later delivery.
If he's more than seven minutes late, Harvey supposes he'll have to let the following minutes go, given the length of the contract. He doesn't anticipate a problem, though. He's found orgasm denial to be a singular motivation among men.
He smiles when the phone rings nineteen minutes later. He lets his amusement bleed through when he picks up. “Good work. What are we having for dinner?”
“Peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And a banana. It was the best I could do.”
“Could be worse, I suppose. You have to run? You sound out of breath.”
“What do you think? The lady at the corner store thought I was out of my mind.”
Mouthy little shit, Gina said. “Mike, every time we're on the phone this week, you should conduct yourself as if we're in a scene. Rule one – no sarcasm, and you will be respectful. I ask you a question, you answer.”
“Yeah, ok. Sorry,” Mike says, breath finally slowing. “Yes, I had to run. The nearest place is three blocks down and across a busy street. I thought about taking my bike but there's really nowhere out front to lock it up and she gets pissed if you bring it inside the store, so running was just faster.”
Mike, Harvey's discovering, likes to share extraneous detail. Better than the alternative, and Harvey can always have him throttle it back if it gets annoying. “Okay. Are you hungry right now?”
“Good. Put the food away, get yourself a glass of water and get comfortable.”
Harvey himself is kicked back with a beer. Ruby Velle’s filtering from the condo at a subdued volume, but the connection's good enough that he can hear things clinking and water running as Mike does as he was told.
He can hear what he assumes is Mike swallowing as well, but it sounds like a thirsty dog attacking an open bowl. Harvey has to imagine he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand when he's done – there's a delay before the sound of Mike getting a refill.
“So, would you have really – ”
Harvey's amused. “Yes.”
“Even though we hadn't discussed it, and I didn't know I was supposed to get dinner first?”
“First of all, you did know. What did my emails say?”
There's the distinct sound of Mike huffing out a breath, but Harvey lets it go, because it could be at himself. “The first one said 'I'd like you to clear that first afternoon of any distractions, if at all possible,' and in the last one, you told me, 'I want you to tie up anything that will need your attention before Monday, so we can have minimal interruption.'”
Harvey blinks. He'd have to check, but it sounds like Mike's quoting him verbatim. “Which means....” Harvey knows they both know, but Mike needs to say he was wrong.
“You did tell me, and I just didn't get it.”
“Good boy.” It's higher praise than he'd normally give for something so fundamental, but Mike sounds a little pained about the whole thing. Maybe a little prideful or not used to being called out on things. “Secondly, we hadn't discussed it, but if you'd safeworded out, I would have come up with some other punishment. However, since orgasm control was in your paperwork as an active interest, I felt pretty safe with the choice.”
Harvey waits Mike out through a few breaths to see where he'll go next. Harvey's tentative plan is to let Mike steer now that he's established control. Let him get the pressing questions out of his system. “How come..... I've only had one...scene or partner at the club, but that time, Gina made us spell every little thing out and decide ahead of time. She didn't do that this time.”
“She would – will – when we meet up in person. And I imagine if I were someone she trusted less, she probably would have made us get specific for these phone sessions; I may not pose a physical risk to you over the phone, but psychological harm's still possible. However, Gina does trust me. I've been doing this a long time, she's known me from almost the beginning, and she knows you'd be safe with me for a set of phone conversations.”
“But not in person?”
“You'd be safe with me anywhere, but...Gina's very aware that, malicious intent aside, miscommunication can result in a lot of pain for a new sub. She doesn't grant exceptions to the policy. We should probably keep it quiet that she allowed this, actually.”
Mike's quiet for a moment, a palpable silence like he's thinking about what the explanation means for Gina's history. Harvey half-expects him to ask about it – it's one question Harvey won't answer, because that's her business, but Mike can ask.
In the end, Mike zigs instead of zags. “How long? Have you been doing this, I mean?”
“Almost twenty years.”
“Holy shit,” Mike blurts. Privately, Harvey agrees. He's come a long way in both his life and his career in that time, but when he thinks of the time doing this specifically – he feels it both acutely and not at all.
Harvey decides to rescue Mike from commenting on his age by prompting, “What about you? How long have you been thinking about this? And have you ever experimented?”
“Not...really,” Mike says. “It's kind of complicated. Consciously, I've thought about it more and more for the last couple of years.”
Mike huffs out a laugh. “I don't know, all my life? There's.... I had this best friend growing up. Actually, we were still tight up until a few months ago. He was always in charge when we were younger – back then, everyone pushed me around so it felt like a given. I stopped being a pushover eventually but Trevor still.... It was nothing like this, it was just us, but I think in a way, I was getting this from him.”
“And when that stopped, you joined the club.”
“Not exactly. It was probably a factor. The big thing was money though – I'd looked into it before but I couldn't come close to affording that place until recently.”
Huh. Not a scholarship kid, then. Eric hadn't just been playing coy.
The conversation's starting to drift in a direction that's less useful, and Harvey considers whether Mike's steering time is up. The whole point was to get him comfortable, and he is.
So it's Harvey's turn. “You and Trevor, how did that work usually?”
“Like I said, it wasn't...formal. But he just...he liked to tell me what to do, and I let him. It's not like I let him make all of my decisions for me, but most of the small ones. At the time it was like, he decides where we go or what we grab for dinner, no big deal.”
“Did you do things for him?”
“...When he asked. Which he did.”
“What did he ask?”
“I don't know...run his errands, get him a beer. Cover for him with his girlfriend.”
There's something else here. “Was it ever sexual? Or did you want it to be?”
There's a longer delay on Mike's end, and when he finally speaks, it isn't an answer. “This is starting to feel like therapy.”
Sore spot. “A relationship you gravitated toward on your own will tell me a lot about what you want, and what's going to hurt you.”
“Yeah, I know. I mean, I've thought about it...what it meant. Why it happened. Just...it feels weird explaining it to someone else.”
Push. “Mike, answer the question.”
There's a beat and a half. “I used to blow him when we got high.”
“Just weed, mostly. The first time it happened was my own poor judgment, but after that...he'd find ways to ask. Or just put me on my knees.”
It shouldn't stir Harvey's interest, given that it was unnegotiated and unhealthy, but Harvey loves impromptu, unstructured scenes; now he's wondering if Mike would too. “Did you like it?”
“Yes,” Mike says. There's a little shame there, though Harvey's not sure of the exact cause.
“Did he ever touch you back?”
Mike snorts. “No, that would be gay.” Ah. Harvey briefly considers Mike's tone, but it's directed at an old wound, not at him. “I think he figured it didn't count if it was just me doing him.”
“Did you like that, or did you resent it? Not his motivations – the imbalance.”
Mike draws breath to speak, pauses, then a second later: “Shit. I kinda liked it.” He sounds blindsided, and a little disturbed, and before Harvey can say anything, he keeps going. “God, I did. How fucked up is that?”
“Mike. Enjoying the power imbalance, the control he was exerting over you...there's nothing wrong with that.”
Mike doesn't say anything. Harvey marks it as something to think about and come back to, though he'll need to be careful.
He shouldn't let Mike dwell on it; he's kind of glad it came up early in the conversation. He switches tracks entirely. “I thought your soft limits were interesting.”
Half a beat as Mike catches up. “What about them?”
“Well. 'Following orders' is something people typically mark a clear preference for. Arguably it's the fundamental requirement for being a sub – I find it interesting that you singled it out as a soft limit.” Especially since he’d had so few of those.
“It might be fundamental, but it's vague. It could mean anything; I'd basically be agreeing to any order.”
Harvey smiles to himself. Definitely a lawyer. Virtually no one else reads it that way – he's argued this with Gina, actually, but she thinks it serves its purpose. “Makes sense. So what would your limits be on that? I already know you place a hard limit on anything that could interfere with your job.”
“It's not as simple as.... I could name restrictions like those, or common sense like no felonies, nothing that would seriously hurt me, nothing that would hurt anyone else. I could wrack my brain for things that are particular problems for me, or go the opposite way and restrict to certain topics, and I still wouldn't be okay with signing off completely. Because someone somewhere could come up with an order within those bounds that I wouldn't be able to follow. It's just too open.”
Harvey pauses, mostly because he gets where Mike's coming from. And yet, “It's not legally binding in any way. And even if it were, safe words are still provisioned. You're still allowed to change your mind.”
“I know. Maybe it doesn't make sense, but it's easier to treat things that way that have inherent boundaries. This one feels…. It's like agreeing to surrender my personal judgment to someone else.”
What's really interesting is that Mike's indicated interest in a number of things that involve power exchange on a larger, less cleanly defined scale. It makes Harvey suspect that Mike wants that larger loss of control – in some form, to some degree – but has a (very rational) fear of relinquishing that much.
Harvey doesn't want to push the issue yet, and risk Mike thinking his intention is to steer him in a certain direction.
Especially when a greedy little part of him would actually like to.
He uses Mike's other checklist responses to guide Mike back through some things he seems to feel more certain of, to get some solid ground under the kid's feet and because Harvey wants to know more about how he came to those decisions.
Harvey doesn't ask about everything, because that would easily take all night and a lot of it's irrelevant, for the moment. But he covers a lot, and he's surprised at how quickly the time goes; in pleasure, unlike business, Harvey prefers to dive right in. That's a luxury he can afford with his regular partners, but Mike needs this - and Gina likes to bitch, but she knew he'd follow through.
Fact is, Mike's a lot more interesting than he has a right to be, as bumbling and...young as he seems. He sounds more like a college kid than any kind of professional, but he’s smart - the path his thoughts take surprises Harvey more than once.
At seven, they each take a few moments to fetch dinner, and Harvey turns the conversation back to the only other soft limit that needs discussing at this point.
“So. Humiliation. 'Soft limit' must be a new designation, because I saw you in a scene that actually revolved around it.”
Mike finishes chewing before he speaks. “Yeah, I didn't really...I didn't like it as much as I expected. Or much at all, really.”
“That's because Dave's incompetent,” Harvey pronounces.
“Wow. Tell me what you really think.”
“I always will. Listen, overt humiliation has never, probably will never be a kink of mine, but it's obviously something you were interested in, and I don't want to have you give it up just because Dave's a tool.”
Mike's grin comes through in his voice. “He really is, isn't he?”
“He is, and it's a permanent condition. So, tell me why you thought you'd like it in the first place.”
There's a delay as Mike takes a bite and then chews. Stalling for time. “It's something that I thought would easily translate,” he eventually says.
“Translate from...your informal relationship with your friend?”
“Yeah. A lot of what I knew didn't seem applicable to the club, so I figured....”
“But you didn't like it.”
“No, it just ended up making me...it was fine at the time, but afterwards I felt unhappy and pissed off.”
“Why? Beyond Dave's capacity for grating on the nerves.”
Mike huffs. “Wow, you really have it out for this guy.”
“I really don't. I just have no patience for people who continue to do things they're so patently bad at.”
“Because you're so good at everything?”
“If I'm not, I pay someone else to be good at it for me. Simple as that.”
“Never stops blowing my mind, how you guys think,” Mike murmurs, and it's hardly meant for Harvey at all, but he understands. He relishes the ability to think this way.
“Mike, stay on topic, please.”
“Right. Um. It seemed really unjustified. He was just saying terrible things, and it didn't matter whether they were true or even whether he thought it was true. It was just...gratuitous.”
“Whereas your friend....”
“It wasn't always justified, I mean, a lot of the time it wasn't, but it was always for a reason. In response to something. And he was joking, but he wasn't.” Mike hesitates. “And no matter what he said or did, I always knew he thought I was.... At least, I thought he did, at the time.”
In other words, Trevor’s the same kind of asshole – in this way – as Harvey. That’s convenient. Harvey suspects he could fill that particular need without trying. To be honest, they’d already begun - sending the kid tearing through his neighborhood would qualify as mild humiliation, and Mike hadn't balked. Much.
“Okay. One last thing we need to discuss. What's your comfort level with bringing this into your workday?” Mike draws a breath, but Harvey runs right over him. “I agreed to your rule; I wouldn't ask you to do anything that could draw attention to what you're doing in an office. You work in an office, right?”
Harvey waits a beat. He hasn't required honorifics yet because he wants Mike to choose what and when, without being told. Although, if they get to the end of the conversation, Harvey will lay down rules for him. It's obviously not second nature, and he might need some subtle pressure.
He continues when Mike says nothing. “Okay. I won't choose anything that someone can pick up on while you're at work. But I'd like to set tasks for you to perform throughout the day, since you spend so much of your time there. Would you be able to do that without getting distracted from your work and hurting your job performance?”
“Yes,” Mike says readily.
Interesting. “You don't know what the tasks are yet.”
“It doesn't matter, they won't hurt my job performance.”
Harvey thinks about this for a minute, trying to decide what exactly makes Mike so certain. Does he feel like a monkey could do his job? Does he think he's just that good? Does he underestimate Harvey's ability to completely fuck with his head from a distance?
“Okay, if you say so. If, at any time, I ask you to do something at work you think is going to hurt your job performance, or make you uncomfortable to the point of suspicious behavior, you're to tell me immediately. Do you understand?”
They're actually backsliding in formality. Lovely.
“Okay Mike, I think I know what I'm going to do to you this week, and I need you to acquire some items for me. You can acquire these items anytime you choose, or anytime you're able, but we won't be using them before Wednesday. If you don't have an item when I decide to use it, you won't be allowed to come for twenty-four hours. Do you understand?”
Harvey waits, letting the silence spool out. Nudging the kid. It feels like the time to shift the tone.
Mike clears his throat audibly. “Yes, sir.”
Good boy. “Item one – are you going to write this down?”
“Your funeral. Item one – a hairbrush, something with a back flat enough that it can be used to strike yourself without injury. Wide or as narrow as you want it. The bristles should be something you don't mind having dragged over your skin when it's sensitive – it's up to you if that means they're sharp and wiry or soft horsehair.
“Item two – panties. They can be women's underwear, or lingerie intended for men, but make sure they're something that can't be seen under your work clothes.” Harvey waits for an objection, but none is forthcoming. Interesting. “If you find yourself gravitating towards something that fails to meet that requirement, tell me and I can adjust my plans. Your choice as to style and material.
“Item three – ” Harvey stops, backtracks a little, mentally. “Tell me about any sex toys you already own.”
“That's not an item,” the little smartass notes. Harvey waits him out, because he doesn't like repeating himself or being corrected. It seems like the best discouragement for this one is to ignore him altogether. “I have a seven-inch glass dildo and a couple of plugs, various sizes. Including one that fits a vibrating egg.”
Harvey could work with all of those, but he wants Mike to have something he bought with Harvey in mind. “Have you ever owned a dildo with a suction cup?”
“You will now. As big as you're comfortable with, more towards the rigid end of the spectrum, and make sure it's well-made enough that it'll stay put.”
Mike makes a soft noise that Harvey thinks indicates a question, or arousal at the idea, or both, but he stops short of speaking.
Harvey gives him a moment, just in case, before saying. “I think that's everything for now. Rules are next. Are you sure you don't want to write any of this down? I won't say it again.”
“I don't need to. Sir. I have a very good memory.”
“You'll be punished for anything you forget.”
“I figured,” Mike drawls. Harvey's silent, until Mike eventually adds “sir.” As if that's going to change that he just broke one of the few rules Harvey's already set down.
Harvey decides to help him a little. “Rule number one...or, I suppose, rule two, if we count what I told you earlier. Which was?”
“No sarcasm,” Mike says readily. Harvey waits another moment, so Mike can realize his mistake. If he catches it and apologizes, Harvey will let it go. If not, he's gonna pay for it later.
“Good. So that's rule one. Rule two. Until next Sunday noon, you only get to come when I allow it. You can ask, but that doesn’t mean I'll say yes. I want you to acknowledge each one of these rules with a 'yes, sir,' Mike.”
If Mike's memory is as good as it seems to be, Harvey wants to use it – raise the stakes, keep him challenged. “Rule number three. Each day at work, you're going to keep a tally of the number of times someone calls you 'Mike.' You're going to tell me what that count is every night. You're also going to keep count of each time you get turned on by something I've told you to do. On a day of my choosing, these numbers will be used to calculate the number of whacks you're giving yourself with that hairbrush.”
Harvey hears Mike swallow thickly, and smiles into the phone. “Yes, sir.”
“Rule number four. This week, you're going to make a decision about something I'll have you do this weekend.” This is probably the touchiest one to state as a rule, and he's half-expecting Mike to safeword out. He has a hunch, a strong hunch, Mike will enjoy this, but he's not sure Mike is ready yet. Gina would probably kick Harvey's ass for risking it. “Sometime this weekend, I'm going to order you to give a blowjob.” Mike's breath sticks and Harvey waits, but Mike says nothing. “You remember your safewords, Mike?”
It's intended as an out, and Mike seems to breathe a little easier. “Yes, sir. I do.”
“Good boy. Use them if you need to, or I'll be very unhappy with you.”
“You're going to give a man of your choosing a blowjob when I tell you. You're going to tell him why you're doing it – because I said so – and you're going to give him the phone so I can talk to him while you do. You're not going to be allowed to come until you're on the phone with me at your apartment.
“Those are my rules for that exercise. You can choose where. You can choose the man – whether it's someone you know or a complete stranger – but when you choose those things, you should keep in mind what exactly you'll be required to do. The only restriction I'll place on this choice is no Trevor.”
“I couldn't, even if I wanted to. Which I wouldn't. We're not....”
“Good,” Harvey says curtly. In his opinion, it's good on so many levels. “This is important: you're going to tell me if at any point this week, you become upset at the idea, or if you don't think you can comfortably and safely find someone to play that role. Do you understand?”
It dangles out there, with just a note of uncertainty. “Mike?”
“It makes me nervous.”
“Nervous is okay – distressed is not.”
“I can talk to you about it later?”
“Yes, because these rules are in addition to every order I've given you already, and what did I say in my email?”
“'Raise any concerns or questions you have for me during the week.'”
He's almost certain the kid is quoting back verbatim. “Do you have any for me right now?”
There are a few quiet breaths over the line as Mike considers this. “Not right now.”
“Nothing on my list you want to talk about?” Harvey prods. “Nothing you need to add on things I should stay away from?”
“You just laid out the major things we need to discuss for this week, right? Nothing you have planned that's out of left field?”
“Correct.” Nothing planned anyway, and Harvey won't stray beyond what they've discussed. Not this first week. A certain amount of trust is necessary before Harvey starts smudging the line here – trust that’s going to be harder to build without meeting in person.
“If that's the case, then there's nothing I need to talk to you about right now.”
“Good.” Harvey considers the progress they've made, and his options for proceeding. Sex isn't a requisite for him when it comes to play, but it is a strong preference, and by now it's a foregone conclusion that their interactions will have a sexual component. Mike's paperwork indicated some interest, and while Harvey never asked yes or no, Mike's given him the green light every time it's been put on the table.
Harvey gathers the dishes from dinner and takes them to the kitchen. “Mike, I'd like for you to walk me through your biggest jerk-off fantasy – one you've come back to over and over, because it gets you off hard. You can touch yourself while you do so, but you're not allowed to come without my permission.”
There's nothing but the sound of slightly elevated breathing as Harvey makes his way over to the sofa and stretches out.
“I don't think I'm comfortable doing that.”
Surprised, Harvey hesitates.
“Okay. The whole concept in general, or some part of it in particular?”
After a moment, Mike says, “The fantasy I have that meets your criteria...I don't want to share it with you. Yet.”
“I think it would give you...the wrong impression. Of what I want.”
Harvey knows it would give him exactly the right impression, but he thinks it would be a mistake to point that out right now; at this point, Mike has no reason to trust Harvey’s instincts.
There's one set of circumstances where pressing til it hurts is the worst course of action. This is it: with a submissively-inclined, strong-willed person, before there's trust. Push under those circumstances, and the person will cut and run.
“That's fine; I understand.” There's an exhale of relief over the line. “But I want you to know that I won't take it literally. Not unless you want it to be. In the meantime....” Harvey thinks. “Why don't you tell me about something real from your past that you think about. Something you enjoy revisiting.”
“I can do that. Can I have a few minutes to think about it?”
“Yes,” Harvey says. “Take your time; clean up from dinner, decide what you want to share, and then make yourself comfortable. I'll wait.”
posting a little early. whoo porn!
references to past underage in this chapter (and although consensual by Mike's own account, of the 'legally defined as statutory rape' variety)
thanks (as ever) to mskatej, for keeping my characterization on track
They stay on the line as Mike moves around his apartment – Harvey doesn't want to remove the pressure entirely, or break the connection by letting Mike hang up, but he doesn't rush him. Not even when it takes a solid eight minutes before he speaks again.
“I want to tell you about something that I've actually never told anyone else. I've never thought anyone else would understand it, but I think you might.”
Harvey feels flush with victory at the quiet admission – they may have taken one step back, but they made up the ground with a bigger step forward. “I'd like that.”
“I've always known that most people would hear it and think...it was a bad thing. And looking back, I can understand how people would say that, but it never felt bad to me. It still doesn't – it still feels like a good experience. And I don't want to think of it in a different way.”
Harvey's a little wary of the preface, but he hears what Mike's saying, and he's not inclined to change Mike’s mind, whatever it is. Not overtly; not at this stage. “Okay. I'm listening.”
“From the age of twelve on, I was raised by my grandmother,” Mike says. Harvey's stomach clenches, but he holds his tongue. “She lived in a rent-controlled apartment near...near a small private college in Brooklyn, and she worked administration at the university. She was supposed to retire around the time she took custody, but obviously that wasn't possible and in fact, she had to increase her hours because of me. Anyway...when I was younger, I would hang around the campus when I wasn't in school, and I liked it, but by the time I was in high school, I didn't really want to anymore. And I was old enough to stay home.”
Harvey makes a listening noise when Mike pauses; definitely not the traditional beginning to jerk-off material, but he's starting to guess the reason for all the backstory. He's just a little relieved they've fast-forwarded to Mike's high school years.
“When I was fifteen, this guy moved in down the hall from us. It was a family building, but because we were so close to the university, it wasn't that weird for there to be professors or older students living there, and that's...he was in his first year of grad school. And for whatever reason, he was okay with this awkward, geeky kid hanging around at his apartment.
“It wasn't like he was...I invited myself over. Gram used to warn me about wearing out my welcome, but I was always too smart and I liked that he would talk to me about what he was studying; I guess he was pretty impressed that I could keep up. At first, he was definitely humoring me, but we got to be actual friends. I think Gram was a little worried at first, but she invited him over for dinner a few times, making sure she could trust him with me, and once she decided she could, it was better than hanging out with Trevor. So she liked it.”
Harvey breaks in softly. “Did she know you had a crush on him?”
Mike laughs, ruefully. “Yeah. I mean, she teased me about it straight-out, at first. That's her, she's...she wanted me to know that she knew. She's so amazing. I think she actually knew before I really did – I remember being really mortified and denying it, the first time.
“Anyway, he was the first person that made me sure I was bi. I think he was aware that I liked him from really early on, and he was flattered and amused by it.” Mike pauses for a minute. “He was a good guy.”
Harvey figures there's a certain amount of deviancy required for a 23-year-old to take up with a high school underclassman, but if Mike says it wasn’t a problem, then it wasn’t. “So how did things change?”
“They didn't at first – I think he consciously kept a distance, but after we started to become actual friends, I realized he was gay, and I uh.” Mike starts to laugh a little. “I was kind of relentless with the questions. And he probably told himself it was me looking for a role model or whatever, but then.... I mean, I was pretty much in love with him, and I knew he liked me. And he was gay. So I figured, why not? Obviously I wasn't as concerned with the legality as he would've been, and I was probably a little....”
“Pushy?” Harvey suggests, smiling.
“Hopeful,” Mike corrects. “....And yeah, okay, pushy. But at the same time, I didn't really believe anything would happen. When he started flirting back, I almost thought I was imagining it. It was exciting. But then it didn't go any further, he wasn't going to initiate anything, and I had no clue how to go about it myself. So I just - ” Mike laughs again, like he's truly amused by his younger self's audacity. “One day I just asked if he'd let me blow him. If he'd teach me how to blow him.”
Mike's presentation of the story has Harvey grinning. “What did he say?”
“I think he was right on the verge of kicking me out of the apartment, but then I slid off the couch and got on my knees, between his legs. And he said okay.”
Harvey slides his hand down his stomach, feeling deliciously, illicitly turned on. “I can see how you would've been difficult to turn down,” he says, and he can feel when his own shift from amusement to lust hits Mike and carries over. “Especially if he was naturally dominant. And he was, wasn't he? That was part of the draw.”
There's a pause, followed by a long breath. “Yeah. I'd never really thought about it. But, yeah.”
Harvey slides his hand down his pants, cupping his hand over his cock through his boxers. “Where are you – sofa? Bed?”
“Take off your clothes and lay down.”
There's a slight shudder to Mike's next exhale. “Okay. I need to put the phone down for a second. Hang on.” There's a thump, the muffled rustle of fabric, and Harvey pictures Mike – to the best of his recollection – stretched out, exposed and obedient. Not on a bed, but in a living room. Somewhere he's entertained friends, and maybe family. “Okay. I'm - ”
“Take your cock in your hand. Are you hard?”
“Me too,” Harvey says. He's still stroking himself through his underwear, in no hurry. “So keep going. How did you start?”
“He unzipped and took himself out. I was so surprised he'd said yes, I just stared like an idiot while he stroked himself hard. I was so nervous that first time. So turned on that it was happening.”
“How did you start?” Harvey repeats, because while the context is good, that isn't what he asked. “Did he give you instructions? Did you start on your own? Did you lick him first? Suck him? Stroke him?”
“I was nervous,” Mike repeats, “so I just stared at him, at first. He didn't say anything, but he got harder.”
“With jailbait on his knees, staring at his cock? I'll bet he did.” This has never been a fantasy of Harvey's, but he's warming to it. “But that wasn't my question.”
“He didn't say anything, but eventually he took my hand and wrapped it around the base, in place of his own. And then he put his hand on my head – not pushing or anything, just touching me.” Past Mike's quick breath, Harvey can tell he's already stroking himself at a steady pace. Harvey wonders if he's seeing the whole thing a little differently now, recognizing the subtle dominance he's describing. “He didn't say anything, but he was watching me, and I knew I was supposed to lean in and lick him. So I did.”
“His frenulum.” Harvey slips his hand under the waistband of his boxers and plays with the head of his dick, fingers stroking where the tip meets the shaft.
“No, he was - where it should've been, I guess. I slid my tongue along the crown and then all around the head. I loved the look on his face, the way he was watching me. I stuck with that for a while, but when he started rocking his hips up and scratching my scalp, I took him into my mouth.”
“It sounds like you've always been a good boy,” Harvey says. Mike makes a soft gasp, like the words hit him hard and by surprise. “You're a natural. Did he tell you how good you were?”
Mike's hand is working faster – he can hear the soft slap of skin. “Not...he didn't say it. But the way he looked at me.”
“Mm.” Harvey unzips his fly and pushes his pants and boxers down far enough to expose his cock – he has no desire to be naked and sweaty on leather, but he needs the room to stroke himself. “Did you like it? Having a cock in your mouth?”
Mike's breath is getting harsh. “Yeah. I hadn't...I'd thought about it for a while, giving head, but I always thought about it more in terms of...of being on my knees, of someone making me...of doing something I wasn't supposed to. I hadn't really expected to just...enjoy doing it. Having my mouth full. Making someone...I probably wasn't very good, but I got so turned on I had to jerk myself off.”
“Did he like that? I sure as hell would've.”
Mike laughs, a breathy, desperate thing. “I don't even know. I wasn't paying attention. Once I got to that point, I was just...sucking as best as I could while I cranked one out. I liked sucking him but I wasn't really trying - ”
“You were being greedy,” Harvey tells him. “And selfish. I bet it was gorgeous. I bet he forgave you because it was unbelievably gorgeous, and maybe I would've too, but only the one time. I punish greedy bottoms who put their wants above mine.”
There's a breathy, barely-vocalized moan at that, and Harvey can tell Mike is making progress towards an orgasm. Harvey's incredibly aroused, but he's torturing himself with a light hand.
“Say you understand that, Mike.”
“Yes. Yes, I understand.”
“So. You came first?”
“Yes. All over – God.” Harvey can practically hear Mike shudder, he's strung so tight at the memory. “All over my jeans and my shirt. I had to walk back to my apartment covered in jizz.”
Harvey bites back the moan that rises up at that image. “Just yours? Or his, too.”
“Mine. He came in my mouth.”
“Did you swallow?”
It's a crap shoot because he doesn't know Mike's rhythm, his tells, but he's getting less and less articulate, and Harvey thinks he's getting close. He listens to Mike panting for a few minutes longer, letting it feed his own arousal, then squeezing himself and saying, “Mike, stop. Take your hand off your dick.”
There's an angry little choke and a series of tight, labored breaths. “What - ”
“Put your arms behind you. Tuck them between the small of your back and the couch.”
“I can't – the phone.”
“Find a way to make it stay put.”
When Mike speaks again he sounds a little farther away, but it's passable. “Okay.”
“You don't get to be selfish with me,” Harvey reminds him. “How close were you to coming?”
“Close,” Mike admits. “I wasn't going to, though.”
“If you had, it would've been the last time you came all week.” There's silence. “Okay. Keep going.”
“Leave your hands where they are. You're not getting off til you get permission. I, however, am getting off as soon as you get me off. Keep talking.”
“The story was kind of - ”
“Earlier, you said 'that first time.' You went back?”
“Yeah. Almost every day for months. I mean, I was sixteen, so of course I wanted it as much as I could get it. And I was obsessed with sucking cock. Once I'd tried it, it was all I could think about. I couldn't concentrate for shit in school.”
Harvey huffs out a laugh. He's still playing with himself idly, but obviously Mike needs some time to get back in step.
“Anyway, I wanted to do it to the exclusion of everything else. Including...we did other stuff, but there was nothing else that made me feel so....”
“High. I mean, not literally – but it was intoxicating. The complete focus I got from him when his dick was in my mouth...it was. I mean, he always paid attention, and it felt amazing when he'd return the favor, but it's. It wasn't the same. It was always more intense when I blew him. Like I was earning it. I think it actually worried him a little, how...intent I was on it all the time. I settled down about it after a while, but it was. You know when you discover something amazing, and for a while, it's all you want to do. It was like that.”
Now Harvey’s thinking about keeping Mike on his knees for hours, having his dick sucked til it’s almost sore from the attention. “I would’ve let you live with my cock in your mouth, if that’s what you needed,” Harvey tells him, and listens to Mike’s frustrated moan. He imagines Mike squirming in position on the couch, dick aching with nothing but air to rut against; he strokes his own in sympathy. “But always getting what you want isn’t what you need, is it? So his instincts were good. Tell me about the first time he got you off.”
“The next day, I went over – by that point, it was normal for me to spend every afternoon with him that he was home. I was really nervous. Horny as hell, but self-conscious about it, because I was…. As badly as I wanted to fool around with him, I wanted him to think I could be grown up about it. So I’m sitting there with him, asking about his research topic with a half-pitched tent in my jeans.” Mike laughs. “He was turned towards me on the couch, watching me, and my face was getting red, and he was totally fucking with me – saying things that were suggestive enough to crank me up a little more but also acting like nothing was going to happen. Like nothing had ever happened.
“And eventually, he starts laughing – he had this laugh that felt like a reward, it always turned me on – and he goes, ‘I’m sorry, you make it so easy,’ and I told him to fuck off but I was so relieved. He got up on his knees on the couch and hauled me around so I was facing him, and he palmed me through my jeans. I’m trying like hell not to come, so my eyes are closed and I don’t realize he’s about to kiss me until he does. It was the first time.”
Harvey doesn’t interrupt, but moans softly at that particular detail; so filthy, giving your first blowjob and forgetting to kiss. He lets his hand start moving more purposefully on his cock.
“When he pulled away, I tried to sit up – I wanted to keep kissing – but he pushed me back against the arm of the couch and held me there…he pulled my t-shirt up and started kissing my chest, my stomach. He didn’t have to hold me down long because I was pretty on board with that.
“My dick was already throbbing when he opened my jeans. God, it was – he only pulled everything down like…mid-thigh, so my legs were a little bound up, and as soon as he took me in his hand, I came so close. And then he licks me. And I’m trying so fucking hard not to embarrass myself, but Jesus.”
“Did you?” Harvey asks. His voice feels rough. He could probably make himself come any time with a little bit of effort, but he draws it out, still stroking at an agonizingly slow pace. “Did you embarrass yourself, come all over his face?”
Mike swears, and this time Harvey can hear him shifting around, horny and restless. “No, he – I’ve always been good with numbers, so he made me start doing math out loud. Which worked, but made Pre-Calc really fucking awkward for the rest of the year.”
Harvey snorts out a laugh, surprised. “I bet.”
“I hung on a lot longer than I thought I could, to be honest; every time I started losing it, he’d pull back, distract me, drag it out.”
“How long before he let you come?”
“He didn’t, really…I think he wanted to keep stringing me along but then he started rubbing my asshole, and it hit me out of nowhere – I couldn’t stop it.”
Harvey gets a flash of beating Mike’s ass red for coming without permission, and rolls his hips with tight control. “Was he angry?”
Mike barks out a laugh, and Harvey can hear the strain of not being able to touch himself. “No. No, he liked it a lot. He sucked me until I begged him to stop, then pulled me flat on my back and kissed me while he worked himself off. He used my hand, and came all over my stomach. But he did…looking back, he kind of trained it out of me.”
Harvey’s breath punches out as he finally lets his hand move a little faster, playing with the head.
“I don’t know if he was thinking of it in those terms, but he played with my ass all the time, until I lasted longer. I was almost always off like a rocket every time he did anything new, but then he’d work me, day after day, until I lasted as long as we could get away with.”
“Did he fuck you?”
“Yes.” Mike’s voice is breathy; Harvey can hear a faint creaking over the line, like Mike can’t help but move his hips against nothing. “Yeah, he was my first for that, too.”
“We were in his bed, and it was just kind of another afternoon like a lot of the ones before. Except he hadn’t let me suck his dick at all. He’d hardly even touched my dick, he’d gone straight into rimming me – for fucking ever – playing with my hole, fingering me open. He pushed me farther than he usually did, and I was pretty much…incoherent.
“And then he stopped, and started rubbing the head of his cock over my hole. Which wasn’t new, he’d done it so many times before, and he liked to rub off against my ass, along my crack. That always made me crazy but it’s also a huge fucking tease, because it’s more the idea than any actual pleasure, so I figured I wasn’t going to get off until after him. But then he says, ‘Mike, I really wanna fuck you.’”
Harvey works his dick at a steady pace, slick with pre-come. “And you said?”
“Hell yes. I’d asked him to fuck me before this, but he always ignored it.”
“Did he give it to you right then, or make you wait?”
“Pretty much immediately – I think he was impatient too by that point.”
Harvey tightens his grip and tilts his face up, eyes rolling back. “I bet he’d been dying to fuck your greedy ass for weeks.”
Mike takes a sharp, shaky breath, and makes a pained sound. Harvey moans at the knowledge of how desperate Mike must be.
“Did you like it?”
“Yes. God yes. I liked it so much, he had to cover my mouth. Gram was home and I was getting loud enough to be heard through the walls.”
Harvey’s torn between the equally appealing scenarios of fucking Mike until he screams, just letting him cry out til he’s hoarse, or tying him up, gagging him and making him take it til his eyes are streaming tears. Mike’s still talking but it’s background noise and fodder for his own imagination as he starts to shoot right for orgasm; Mike panting in his ear with a pleading quality to his voice while Harvey jacks hard and fast, a kaleidoscope of filthy scenes playing on his eyelids.
He comes with a long groan, and visceral pleasure at the sound he draws out of Mike.
He lets himself come down a little in silence, enjoying the way Mike’s gone quiet. There’s just a quick, strained cadence to his breath that gives away how desperate he must be, but he restrains himself. Harvey wishes he could reward that.
“Do you need to come?” he asks eventually, feeling languid.
Mike lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Yes. Yes, sir – please….”
Harvey glides one hand under his shirt, unsticking it from sweaty skin. “How badly?”
“So….” Mike’s breath hitches and Harvey hears the sofa springs again. “So badly. Please. Please, sir. I’ll do anything.”
Harvey has to appreciate how much more fluidly things roll off Mike’s tongue when he’s this desperate. It reinforces the knowledge that Mike’s a natural at this; he’ll get better at sounding the part all the time, once he’s comfortable. Until then, Harvey should probably cut a little slack on verbal slips, and just keep reinforcing the right language.
“I don’t think I have to give you anything to get that in return. Do I? You’re going to do anything I tell you to, regardless.”
Mike’s voice is tight. “Yes.”
“Good boy; I know you will. Don’t bargain with me again.”
He listens to Mike swallow. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.” Harvey closes his eyes and takes a moment to savor what he’s feeling – that zing of power at what he’s going to say, mixed with regret that he has to – has to wait another day to hear Mike get off. “Unfortunately, you broke another rule earlier that you didn’t apologize for. And as a result, you don't get to come tonight.”
He hears the sofa squeak as Mike shoots upright, fumbling for the phone. “What? I thought. I already paid for the dinner thing, didn’t I?”
“That's not what I’m talking about. What's rule one?”
“No sarcasm.” There's a pause as Mike thinks, but not a very long one before he says, “Fuck. I didn’t…. Yeah, okay.”
“You're still learning, so I would have let you off if you'd caught yourself and apologized. You get three strikes before an apology’s not enough.”
“Shit. I can’t believe I - ” Harvey bites the inside of his cheek as he hears Mike fall dramatically back onto the couch. “How long....”
“Just tonight. I'll tell you when you can come.”
“Okay. I am sorry.”
“You're gonna be good at this, Mike. I can tell.” Mike doesn’t say anything, but he didn’t seem too put out or dejected once he managed to connect the dots, so Harvey thinks he’s ok. “Keep an eye out for an email from me in the morning. You did very well, otherwise, so I’ll let you come before work.”
There’s a little relief in Mike’s voice when he says, “Okay. Thank you.”
“Good night, Mike.”
Harvey hangs up and looks at the clock, a little surprised at how well the time flew. He lays there for a little while and thinks their conversation over, deciding they made a decent start. He feels a little impatient now for the chance to actually get Mike under him, but that won’t do much good. He should focus instead of making the phone sessions count, so that when they finally meet up Mike will trust him, and go down faster.
His skin starts to itch as the come dries on his stomach, and he doesn’t want to fall asleep on the sofa; time for a shower.
before I start throwing the term “24/7” into the story, I felt the need to put down an explanation of how I'd be using it in this story. but then I decided it was kind of unnecessary, so in the interest of being brief but also soothing my neurotic need for shared meaning…I put it in a livejournal post. if you're interested.
Harvey gets a little charge out of drafting an email the next morning – the next best thing to hearing Mike come is controlling when and how. There’s something about going through the routine motions of his morning – having his coffee, making his breakfast, reading the paper – all the while knowing that he’s dictating Mike’s behavior. That he’s dictating Mike’s personal pleasure.
It gives new meaning to mundane things. It elevates his mood to a degree that has him wondering why he’s denied himself 24/7 play over the last few years. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been missing it.
He lets his mind gravitate around it on his morning run: imagining Mike’s relief when he opens the email, his reaction to the instructions, how quickly he’ll get off. The blue streak he’s likely to swear if Harvey’s orders keep him from coming until later. The jog keeps the mental exercise from becoming something more physical; rather than arousal, he ends up with a power high just from knowing.
Sent: Monday, August 15, 2011 5:23 AM
You may come now, but only if you can do so within 10 minutes of reading this message. If you're unable to work within that window, you'll need to ask for permission – including when and where you plan to jerk off.
Once you've come, I expect an email thanking me for the pleasure.
The number I provided for yesterday was my home number – you should call my personal cell this afternoon at 12:30. You'll find it below
He absolutely crushes his first meeting of the morning – George Salinger always gets smug when he manages to corner Harvey into an early negotiation, and occasionally it pays off; Harvey is…marginally less effective before the hour of 10am. This time, though, Harvey shoves that trick back up George’s ass, along with his home court advantage.
As a reward for a job well done, Harvey takes a few minutes on the drive back to the firm to set up his club mail account on his personal phone – it’s password protected, silenced, and never off his person during business hours, so Harvey’s confident it’s a low-risk way to communicate with Mike.
There is a new email from Mike, thanking him simply, so obviously he caught Harvey’s email in time for a little pre-work relief. Harvey’s glad – as fun as making him wait would’ve been, the infraction was minor, so it’s best that the punishment be relatively painless.
Harvey tucks his phone away and turns his attention to other things.
The rest of Monday ends up being more or less a wash, with Mike – the kid does get away from the office at lunch, but they don’t talk long. Just long enough for Mike to let him know, apologetically, that he might not make it home that night. Harvey’s a bit disappointed, but not at all surprised, when the following evening and lunch check-ins are short and perfunctory as well.
Harvey’s still in the town car when Mike calls on Tuesday evening. It’s just gone seven, and Harvey frowns. He’s on the way to a meeting with his PI.
“I know I’m early,” Mike butts in before he can even speak. “I can call back at eight if you want, but I was afraid I’d pass out before then.”
Ah. “That’s fine.” Harvey’d rather Mike bend rules in the spirit of obedience than break them, and he knows Mike hasn’t slept in over 36 hours. He’ll have to be vague, out of deference to Ray, but Mike’s proven himself to be good at that game from both ends. “I’m on my way to a meeting. Did you get that first head-count I asked for?”
“Twelve. And the other was just one. I was tired.”
Mike sounds amusingly apologetic over the fact that he only got horny once during his work day. Harvey smiles as he logs the numbers into as a note on his phone – Monday’s counts are sitting on a legal pad at home. “I think I can forgive you for that.”
“You’re too kind,” Mike says, and Harvey grins. Mike is making him adjust his standards on the amount of lip that’s acceptable, and he doesn’t even mind; Mike has a knack for riding the right side of respect.
“How are you coming on those briefs I asked for?”
Mike snickers a little at his choice of code language. Considering the way his week has gone, Harvey’s willing to cut him slack on the shopping, but he’ll be pleased if Mike’s managed to follow orders. He doesn’t want to change their schedule.
“I’m still working on the dildo, but I was able to get everything else.”
“That’s fine,” Harvey says. “Give me a summary.”
“Everything, or just the – ”
“The briefs, Mike.”
“Blue satin, with some black lace at the waistline. I checked, they’ll be okay under a suit.”
“Good.” Harvey says. They’re pulling up in front of the bar where he’s supposed to meet Vanessa; Harvey mutes the mike on his phone while he tells Ray to come back for him in thirty minutes – then he’s out the door and the anonymity of the sidewalk means he can drop the cryptic language. “I’d like you to wear them all day tomorrow. But bring a change of underwear in case they get to be too distracting.”
“Actually, I wanted to ask – do you mind if I wait and change into them once I get there?”
Harvey frowns; he doesn’t object on principle, but taking your pants off in a public restroom seems inconvenient. “Why would you do that?”
“I bike into work.”
It takes him a beat to make sense of Mike’s statement. “You bike. Into work. In a suit?”
“Yeah – I mean, not all the way. But it’s faster to bike a couple miles before hopping on the subway.”
What corporate lawyer in his right mind allows his associate to ride a bicycle into work? Harvey rubs his forehead before choosing not to dwell on it. “That’s fine. I’ve gotta go. Call me at 1:30 tomorrow, I’ve got a lunch meeting.”
Mike’s still talking; he’s always talking, often about nothing in particular, so Harvey doesn’t feel bad about hanging up the phone in the middle of his sentence.
Still, on the off chance something important was coming out of his mouth, Harvey checks his email once he’s back in the car. Sure enough, along with the club’s newsletter and various announcements and requests, there’s a message from Mike.
Sent: Tuesday, August 16, 2011 7:18 PM
Subject: as I was saying when you hung up….
Do I have permission to jerk off tomorrow morning? You haven’t let me come since Monday.
Harvey shakes his head a little; the kid can’t seem to help himself. As soon as they make progress, he pushes his toe across the line. Harvey’s not sure if he’s just this difficult, or if the distance of doing this by phone is making him backslide.
Sent: Tuesday, August 16, 2011 8:01 PM
Subject: re: as I was saying when you hung up….
Sure. You can jerk off. But thanks to your snippy little subject line, you’re not allowed to come.
And I wasn’t keeping you from coming. You just never asked.
Mike apparently hasn’t managed to fall asleep, because the response is almost immediate.
Sent: Tuesday, August 16, 2011 8:03 PM
Subject: re: as I was saying when you hung up….
Does that mean you would’ve let me come if I had?
He shouldn’t be charmed by the one-track mind or lack of apology.
Sent: Tuesday, August 16, 2011 8:04 PM
Subject: re: as I was saying when you hung up….
I don’t know. Maybe.
The phone rings thirty seconds later. “But I’ll get to come tomorrow. Right?”
“Let’s consider that a performance-based reward.”
“Is that double-speak for ‘stop being a brat’?”
“Got it in one.”
“Yeah, okay. I’m just trying to avoid a, um. Situation tomorrow, considering it’s been a few days. I mean, panties have never really turned me on but it would suck for the first time to be while I’m at work.”
Harvey’s fairly certain Mike’s trying to wiggle into an exception, but unless he explicitly invokes his own rule, Harvey’s not giving him any freebies. “Picture Napoleon naked,” he advises, and is amused to see Ray’s eyebrows twitch up.
“Oh. Oh god, you don’t understand how wrong that is.”
“Then it should do the trick just fine.”
“Yeah, ok. Good night, Harvey.”
“Hey, Mike?” he says before Mike can hang up.
“Tomorrow after my lunch meeting, I’m not to be disturbed. Got it?”
“Yeah. I think I can clear my time.”
A working lunch gives Harvey the leeway to take a private half-hour for his check-in with Mike. Donna’s openly curious about that the ‘do not disturb’ order, so the first thing he does is unplug his intercom – lest she be tempted.
The phone rings right on time, and Harvey turns his back on the glass wall and kicks his feet up on the display shelf, looking out over the city. “You alone?”
Mike huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, taking lunch wasn’t necessary – I got banished to the file room. I think Jimmy Hoffa’s buried down here.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. My boss is just paranoid – he said I looked smug and self-satisfied. When I wouldn’t tell him what I was hiding, he sent me down here so he wouldn’t have to look at me.”
Harvey grins. “Were you picturing him naked?”
“Swear to God, I was trying my best not to.”
“Sounds like you should’ve tried harder.”
“It’s ok, I could use a break from the douchebags I work with.”
“I know the type.”
Harvey lets the line fall quiet, just to see where Mike takes this. A couple beats later, he says, “So. Do you like this?”
“Do I like what?” Harvey asks, even though he knows.
“This – ” Mike lowers his voice a little. “Men in women’s underwear.”
“Oh, that,” he says to amuse himself. “No, not particularly.”
“I mean that it’s not a fetish. It doesn’t excite me sexually, not for its own sake.”
“What do you like about it?”
“Depends on the man. Some men get off on it. Some get embarrassed, some like having the secret, some hate doing it, which makes it a fantastic punishment. Either way, the reaction is never boring and there’s something to be gained by making them.”
“Which one am I?”
“You tell me; I know you don’t hate it. And I know it’s not the first time you’ve done it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You didn’t balk. You didn’t bat an eye – you didn’t have any questions when I told you to buy them, and you managed to get your hands on them under circumstances where you barely had time to sleep. Which means you already owned these, or you knew exactly what you wanted and where to get it.”
Mike’s quiet for a second. “These are new, but they’re not my first pair. It’s not really sexual for me, either, it’s just. I’ve cross-dressed a couple of times, as a joke.”
Harvey allows his skepticism to come through when he repeats, “As a joke.” Then, “As an order from Trevor?”
Mike exhales heavily through his nose. “Yeah.”
“More than once?”
“Yeah.” Mike clearly knows where he’s going with this, and gets a little defensive. “And yeah, I liked it, but it was just. Fun.”
“Around other people?”
“Yeah, sometimes at parties.”
“Full cross-dress or lingerie?”
“Both. Although the second more…when we were alone.”
“Meaning you had sex while you were wearing them?”
“I sucked him off, yeah.”
“And you enjoyed it. Both at parties and in private.”
“Yeah.” It’s almost a sigh, and Harvey can’t discern its meaning. “But it wasn’t really the clothes themselves. More like the attention.”
“You liked being seen as the boy who’d do something like that.”
“Yeah. Not everyone meant that the same way, but it didn’t matter. I liked it.”
“How many times?” Mike has to know. Even if his memory were poor, it seems significant enough to have kept count.
“Nine,” Mike says. “Trevor said it was getting weird. He stopped asking.”
“Mm.” Trevor was a kinky, self-loathing, heteronormative tool. “Are you hard?”
Mike huffs. “I am now.”
“What are you wearing?”
“…Other than the panties? A suit.”
Harvey rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mike. What does it look like?”
“Do you have some kind of menswear fetish?”
“Everyone should have a fetish for quality menswear. Now answer the question.”
“It’s um. A nice one. It seemed like I should wear one of my better suits today. Because…you know.”
Privately, Harvey approves of the instinct. “How much did you pay for it?”
“This is getting weird.”
“Nothing. I mean, I didn’t – I stole a bunch from Trevor the last time I saw him. He owed me. And he was always bragging about how expensive they were, so. I don’t know – a lot.”
Christ, did the kid have any other friends?
“What’s the label?”
“Should I take it off and check?”
Harvey gives up. “You’ve officially killed the mood for me, you cretin.”
Mike snickers. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize unless you are, and you’re not,” Harvey admonishes, smiling.
“Yeah, I’m not, really. I don’t get why it’s a big deal – who cares what I’m wearing?”
“Suit makes the man. People respond to how we’re dressed.”
“Oh yeah? So what are you wearing?”
Harvey looks down at himself, smoothing his tie back into place.
“Black three piece Tom Ford, peak lapel, one-inch pinstripe; spread collar shirt – I think it’s Brioni, but it might be Zegna; Brioni silk tie, dark red with a fine diamond print. Thomas Pink cufflinks. And my shoes are Prada.”
There’s an extended silence on the other end of the line. “Yeah, that really tells me nothing. Except that you’re a label snob.”
“You’re begging to be educated. In more ways than one."
There’s a wet sound, like Mike’s licking his lip. “So. When are we gonna use the hairbrush?”
“Are you asking me to paddle your ass, Mike?”
Harvey has to smile when he hears the distinct thunk of Mike’s head hitting the table. “Oh my god, I’m not going to get anything done today.”
“You should try; the sooner you get home, the sooner you’ll get to wrap those panties around your cock and ruin them.”
Mike lets out a desperate, half-crazed laugh. “Not helping.”
Harvey’s eyes stray towards the clock. He’s still got time. “Would it help if I let you touch yourself a little right now?”
“No. But I’ll take it anyway.”
Harvey’s mouth curls. “That’s what I like to hear.” Mike swears under his breath. “Are you going to do it right there, or find a bathroom?”
“I can…hang on a second.” There’s the indistinct sound of movement, then Mike’s back. “Okay. I locked the door.”
“Unzip your fly. Leave the button done.”
Mike’s breathing is audible. “Okay.”
“Now slide your hand in and rub yourself through the panties.” There’s a shaky exhale, barely sub-vocal. “How hard is your cock?”
“Slide your hand along the length – just your thumb and index finger.” Mike bites back a protest at not being able to have more, and Harvey carefully adjusts himself in his slacks. “Keep stroking yourself that way, back and forth.”
He closes his eyes and listens to Mike’s heavy breathing over the line.
Harvey really hadn’t intended to do this in the office; hadn’t thought Mike would agree to it, for one thing. For another, his walls are glass. But he likes it. Staring down Lex in broad daylight through the window – if Harvey’s suspicions are right about Mike, he’s in one of those buildings, touching himself on Harvey’s orders.
“Completely hard yet?”
“Tell me about your cock.”
“Can I – ?”
“No. Just those two fingers.”
“Fuck. Um. I’m cut. Five and a half inches. Thick.”
“How does it sit in the panties, now that you’re hard?”
“I have it tucked to the left.”
“Is the head still inside, or has it popped through the waistband?”
“Undo the button, and let the head poke out. Go ahead and unbutton the bottom of your shirt, to keep it clean.” The sound becomes muffled as Mike pinches the phone against his shoulder to free his hands. They really need to get him a hands-free. “Don’t touch yourself yet. Tell me when you’re ready.”
“Using the tip of one finger, trace a spiral out from your slit – a tight spiral, so that by the time you get to the lip of the helmet, you’ve touched every bit of it. Stroke your shaft through the satin, with as much of your hand as you like.”
Harvey listens to the choked, ragged cadence of Mike’s breathing and pictures it, pictures how flushed he must be, the sex-stupid look on his face. “Is there anyone at work you’d like to fuck?”
The sound Mike makes is almost a laugh. “Um. Yeah.”
“What would they do if they walked in right now, and saw you like this?”
This time, Mike definitely laughs. “At this stage? She’d probably slap me.”
“When you reach the outer edge of the head, reverse the motion and trace your way back in.”
“Harvey – ” It’s a plea, but Harvey doesn’t care.
“You getting close?”
“You’re going to finish doing as I asked. You will not come. Don’t take shortcuts either. Touch every centimeter. You hear me?”
Mike’s voice is thin. “Yes, sir.”
Harvey presses the heel of his hand to his cock.
“Tonight, when you get home, you’re going to strip down and call me, wrap your panties around your cock and jack yourself, and you can come as fast as you want. As a reward for being so good for me right now, you won’t have to wait. You can just let go whenever.”
Harvey knows very well how hard he’s making it to hold on now, and he hears Mike gasp out in agonized relief as he finishes the inward spiral and – Harvey’s betting – tears his hands away from his dick as fast as possible.
Harvey just listens as Mike brings himself back from the edge, til he’s together enough to joke, “Oh god, you’ve ruined this room for me. I’m gonna get a hard-on every time they send me down here now.”
“Well, that was my goal, yes.” Harvey grins at the shaky laugh. “Get back to work – call me tonight.”
“As if I’ll forget.”
“Mike.” Strike two.
“I’m sorry. I will, sir.”
Harvey hangs up and takes a minute to cool himself down – not only are his walls glass, so is his desktop, which Harvey’s ruing today. But there are advantages to wearing boxer-briefs; he’s not comfortable, but he’s also not obvious.
When Mike calls him that night, Harvey’s already playing with himself, tired of waiting. He’s imagining Mike’s frustration at being held over – maybe a direct result of their afternoon conversation.
Mike sounds out of breath when the phone finally rings. “I bet that was a fun bike ride,” Harvey says.
“I had to take a cab, actually – it wouldn’t have been safe.”
“Very conscientious of you.”
Something in his breath must give him away (though he’s not exactly trying to hide what he’s doing); there’s a brief silence before Mike says, “Oh my god, are you already jacking off?”
“Aren’t you?” Harvey asks. “I said you could, as soon as you were home.”
The muffled sounds of the cell phone being pressed against Mike’s shoulder as he unzips remind him – “Get some kind of headset for that phone by tomorrow.”
“Yes, yeah, okay,” Mike says, mind clearly on other things. Oh well – he’ll pay attention or face the consequences; Harvey won’t be ignored for a hand on Mike’s dick.
And it is on his dick now; Mike pants in his ear, swearing softly.
Suspicious of how quickly Mike got it there, Harvey says, “Did you just shove your pants down? Are you still dressed?”
“Huh? Um. Yeah.”
“Stop touching yourself.”
Mike doesn’t make any secret of his unhappiness at the order, but he does. “Harvey, what – ”
“You were using your hand?”
There’s a brief pause. “Of course, my hand – what else – ”
“What did I say about how you could come? What did I tell you this afternoon?”
Mike huffs. “‘Tonight, when you get home, you’re going to strip down and call me, wrap your panties around your – ’ Oh shit.”
It takes all Harvey’s restraint to keep his laugh from being audible. Oh shit, indeed. The last thing Harvey wants right now is to tell Mike he can’t come, and he’s struggling to find an excuse or at least an appropriate punishment to use in its place.
“Harvey, don’t…I’ll…. I’m not bargaining, I’m not, but. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Obviously. I can…. Shit.” If Mike were any less new, he’d just be digging himself deeper, but as it is, he’s honestly fighting the instinct to manipulate a better outcome for himself, so.
“Mike, stop talking. The only thing I want to hear is ‘yes, sir,’ unless it’s an answer to a direct question.” Blessed silence. “Pull your pants up onto your hips.”
There’s a puff of air against the receiver that means Mike believes Harvey’s going to deny him, but he says nothing.
“Now go take your suit off. Hang it up.”
Good boy. While he listens to Mike getting undressed, he asks him, “What were your counts today?”
“I spent most of my time in the file room, so. I was called by name five times, and four of them were you.”
Harvey’s mouth curls into a smile. “And how many times were you horny because of something I told you to do?”
“Oh god…does the conversation at lunch count as once, or….”
“Call it once.” Harvey already knows the numbers are totaling at the upper limit he’ll allow – soon he’ll have to do some creative math to keep the paddling reasonable.
“In that case…eight?”
Harvey hums skeptically at that, but asks, “What’s the total for the week, altogether?”
“And how many times did you get turned on today?” he asks again.
Mike sighs. “Twelve.”
“Which brings us to forty-four. I’ll be lenient and only add one for smudging that number the first time. You’re going to spank yourself forty-five times tomorrow, Mike. And we’ll chalk your mistake up as strike three – which means you should get your shit together. You’re out of free passes to forget yourself. Thank me.”
“Thank you, Harvey.”
There’s a tangible question over the line, made more obvious by Mike’s relief when he says, “Pick up the panties and get into bed.”
“You know what to do. You can talk while you jerk off.”
There’s a small groan as Mike gets his the satin around his cock. “Thank you. Ohh, fuck, Harvey.” He loses himself for a few breaths, and Harvey starts to stroke himself again. “Fuck, this feels good.”
Mike isn’t going to last long, if this is the best he can manage. He seems to lose all claims to being articulate as he gets ready to come. More’s the pity. “What feels good?” Harvey prompts.
“Stroking myself with the – ” There’s another desperate noise that makes Harvey tighten his grip. “They’re getting wet…slippery.”
“I should make you wear them again tomorrow. Make you go to work filthy.”
The sound Mike makes at that – indirect humiliation really does get him off. He gives up even the pretense of trying to talk after that, and Harvey lets him. This was supposed to be a reward for Mike performing well this afternoon…and the noisy breathing down the line, punctuated by grunts and needy groans, is more than enough for Harvey to work with.
When Mike’s breath goes ragged-quick, like he’s teetering just on the edge, Harvey jacks himself faster and demands, “Thank me.”
Mike likes that, responding with an “oh” that sounds punched right out of his chest. “Thank you…thank you – ” Mike starts to come, and Harvey feels close – “Oh fuck…fuck….thankyou…Harvey, thank you….”
The way he clings to the words like a mantra – Mike isn’t simply doing as he’s asked. It’s so genuine; on some deep subconscious level, Mike’s actually this grateful. It’s heady.
Harvey imagines what he can do with that inclination – what he can make Mike do (crawlbegtakeit), and works himself off hard and fast. He comes to the image of an ass striped red with welts and Mike weeping with gratitude.
He comes so hard, his whole body aches afterwards.
“Oh my god,” Mike says after his breath slows down. “Finally.”
Harvey cracks a smile, and summons the energy to roll his eyes. Mike must be…what, late twenties? At the least. “Forty-eight hours wasn’t going to kill you, Romeo.”
“Sixty-four, actually.” When Harvey laughs, he insists, “I wasn’t counting, I just know.”
“Whatever you say. Someday, I’m going to keep your cock on lockdown for weeks while you service me every night – you’ll be wishing for three days of denial.”
Mike swallows. “Someday?”
“Mm,” Harvey affirms, aware of the presumption. And that Mike liked it.
fyi, I'm a couple chapters behind on feedback - I've been feeling pretty yuck about life, but I will catch up with it (the fb, not life, heh) eventually. I always love hearing your thoughts and squee and am sincerely thrilled that you're enjoying this <3 so yeah, I haven't forgotten, I'm just delayed
Harvey had planned Mike’s paddling for that Thursday: he needed the week to establish rapport and trust, but very much wanted Mike to have to sit through a workday with a sore ass.
He’d been prepared to shift it to Friday night if necessary, but he’s pleased when Mike is able to make the time.
Mike knows what’s coming when he calls on Thursday evening, because Harvey told him that afternoon. The phone rings at 8:30, and from the sound of Mike’s breath, he called nearly as soon as he got through the door.
As much as Harvey loves the eagerness, they’re not going to rush this. Mike says he already had dinner, so that’s one thing out of the way.
“You’re going to hang up; go shower, brush your teeth, do anything else you’d need before bed. Don’t bother putting clothes back on. Put the hand mirror and a full glass of water near the sofa, as well as a blanket, a pillow, anything you need to rest comfortably there for a while. Then put on the Bluetooth you bought and call me back.”
Harvey’s never made a sub spank themselves before, and there’s something about that idea that has him keyed up. It’s gratifying to know that Mike has looked forward to it just as much – Harvey knows he’s been waiting for it all week, more than anything else. It was the only thing he’d asked after.
It’s only ten minutes before Mike calls him back, but they have plenty of details to discuss before they start. That will bring him to heel.
“Is there a table sturdy enough for you to bend over while you do this?”
“Ah…. Well, I mean, as long as I’m just resting against it, I guess.”
That doesn’t sound promising. Harvey doesn’t want him thinking about whether the furniture’s about to collapse while they do this. “Can you stand behind the couch and bend over it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’ll work.”
“Okay, good. You don’t have to do it, yet. Tell me about the brush you picked out.”
“Soft bristles. Plastic backing. It’s black. I’m not sure what you want to know.”
“What shape is the striking surface?”
“Give me the rough dimensions – just the flat part.”
“Five by three.”
“When you press the flat of your hand against the bristles, do they bend?”
There’s a pause. “Yeah.”
“Lay the bristles against the inside of your forearm, with the handle parallel to your arm, and drag it back and forth. Does it hurt or sting at all?”
No corners or edges to worry about, decent-sized surface area, and even when Mike’s skin was sensitive from being stricken, the brush would sooth more than it would hurt. More importantly, there was zero chance the bristles will break open capillaries brought close to the surface.
Harvey’s fairly confident they don’t need to worry about accidental injury.
“Good. Go bend yourself over the back of the couch. What’s it made of?”
Mike sounds amused. “Pleather.”
Harvey pulls a face. “I suggest you drape something over it, if you don’t want it to meld to your skin. Where does the back of the couch hit you, when you stand up against it?”
“Just below the waist.”
“How far below?”
“An inch or two?”
“Try folding yourself over it, so that your torso is a little inverted. Is it comfortable?”
“It’s not uncomfortable.”
“How far apart do you have to place your feet to keep your knees relatively straight?”
There’s a pause as Mike experiments. “Shoulder-width. Maybe an inch or two further.”
Hm. Harvey changes his mind. “How tall is that table?”
“A little more than waist-height.”
“How shaky is it?”
“It’s fine – I wouldn’t count on it to take my whole weight, but it’s stable.”
“Let’s use that instead.”
He waits while Mike gets situated – pulling the table out further from the wall, from the sound of it, maybe clearing a few things away. “Tell me when you’re laying over it.”
“Are you right-handed or left-handed?”
“I want you to take a few test swings. You’re not going to hit yourself as hard as you can. But you are going to hit yourself hard enough to feel a sting on impact, and a burn for a few seconds afterwards. You have three strikes to figure out how much force you need for that.”
There are two audible breaths before Mike hits himself for the first time. Harvey can tell from the sound of plastic striking flesh that the first try isn’t hard enough, and he’s not surprised by the overcorrection of the second – a hard crack that has Mike sucking in a breath.
The third hit is somewhere in-between that has Mike saying, “Okay. I’ve got it.”
“I want you to maintain that amount of force the entire time. Say ‘yes, sir,’ Mike.”
Harvey hears Mike swallow, like his mouth is a little bit dry. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re going to strike yourself on each of my counts – right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, and spread the blows around. We’re going to pause every 10-count. Don’t fall into a rhythm. You’re going to hit yourself when I tell you to hit yourself. Understood?”
Mike’s already breathing heavily. “Yes, sir.”
“Before we start, do you have any questions?”
“Okay. I’m going to start now,” Harvey tells him. “One. Don’t hit yourself too hard, Mike. Two. A little harder than that. Three. Perfect – now try to hit the other cheek with the same force, I know it’s harder. Four. Good. That’s very good.”
As Harvey takes them through the first ten strikes, he tries to space them far enough apart for the sting and burn to fade before the next. They’ll pick up the pace later, but for now it’s important for Mike to commit the blows to muscle memory, for him to concentrate on not striking the same place twice just yet, and find the best way to keep all of the amount of force uniform, even at the more awkward angles.
He uses the time between strikes to coach Mike on exactly what he should be doing, and praise him when he gets something right.
“Ten. Put your hands on the table. How does that feel?”
“Burns a little. I like it, though.”
“Anywhere the burn is more intense?”
“Yeah, I put all my test blows in one spot.”
“You’re going to avoid that area on the next set of ten.”
In the past, Mike has let the formalities slip after this much time has lapsed, so Harvey’s pleased. “Good boy,” Harvey says, and listens to the shuddery breath Mike gives him in response. “Are you hard?”
A breathy laugh. “Yes, sir.”
“Reach down and stroke yourself. What exactly is making you hard?”
“All of it,” Mike says. Then goes quiet for long enough that Harvey thinks he’ll have to prompt him. He doesn’t. “The way it feels. The fact that I’m doing it to myself. Because a virtual stranger told me to. That I’m doing it, even when you can’t make me. That my neighbors might hear when they walk down the hall, because there’s a crack under the door. All of it.”
Mike’s not the only one who’s touching himself now. “Good. Mike, I’m going to give you a choice tonight. Not a trade-off – whatever you decide won’t change the rest of my plans. Either answer is fine with me.” Mike’s still stroking himself, because Harvey never told him to stop; he can hear it in the way Mike is breathing. If the kid feels this way, just from a set of ten, it’ll be interesting to see how he feels as they continue. A cursory measure of how much pain he enjoys. “You can come tonight, after the paddling. Or, you can bring yourself to the edge and then wait to come until Saturday.”
“What’s happening Saturday?”
“The blowjob.” Mike’s breath catches. “Pick now. What should we do?”
Harvey wasn’t lying – both options are acceptable – but he knows what he’d prefer, and his cock throbs when Mike says, “I’ll wait.”
Good boy is on the very tip of Harvey’s tongue, but he doesn’t want to give the impression that it was a test. He doesn’t test subs that way. He does say, “Thank me for giving you the choice.”
Given Mike’s feelings on free will, it’s a risk – Harvey’s sure Mike will be more apprehensive when Harvey instates this as a rule. But for now, Mike’s id is apparently in control enough that he doesn’t consider the implications. “Thank you, sir.”
“Good boy,” Harvey says, because now he has the excuse. “Pick up the hairbrush and keep your free hand on the table.”
They go through the second set of ten at a similar pace, but now that Mike has the hang of it, Harvey draws his attention to how it feels. The way the sting of the brush is chased by the sizzle of Mike’s blood coming to the surface, until that dulls and they start all over again.
Mike is eager to stroke his cock by the time they reach twenty, but Harvey likes that he doesn’t ask. He just waits until he’s told that he can. Harvey doesn’t specify how, but he can tell from Mike’s breath – the not-quite moan on every exhale – that Mike takes a firm, brisk grip immediately. Harvey listens and strokes himself in time, but not for long.
“Hands on the table, Mike.”
“You’re doing so well.” Well enough that Harvey is now sure he wants to get his hands on him; this week has been pleasing, but they turned some corner tonight, for Mike. “We’re going to speed things up for the next ten. You’re going to keep the same degree of force, and remember to spread it around.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
He calls the numbers out in a steady time, not enough silence in between to hear more than the answering whack. Mike is breathing hard through his nose by the time he puts the brush down.
“Breathe through your mouth,” Harvey instructs, because he’s probably not getting enough oxygen and they can’t have him passing out. “That’s it,” he says when he hears the slower, deeper breaths. “How are you, Mike? Anxious? Aroused?”
“How does your ass feel?”
“It burns. Really burns.”
Harvey pauses. “Mike, do you remember your safewords?” he asks, because although they have one round left that will ratchet the pain up further, that’s not what he’s worried about. Not with the way Mike has handled himself. It’s the topic he’s about to broach that’s a little more questionable.
“Good. You can use them for anything. Remember that. Now take your cock in your hand and stroke yourself.” There’s a low, choked-off sound of relief as Mike obeys the order. Harvey lets him get past the worst of his distraction before he continues. “Have you come to a decision on the choice I gave you for Saturday?”
“Yes, sir. I know where I can pick someone up.”
“So you want a stranger.”
A single choppy word, like Mike’s forgotten himself – like (Harvey hopes) the idea does as much for him as it does for Harvey.
“Your ass is going to bruise from this, you know.” Harvey rubs the head of his cock, and thumbs over his slit just hard enough to cause a bolt of pain. “It’s still going to be a little tender when you’re on your knees for him. And you’ll feel it, and it’ll be just another way you’re serving me instead of him.”
“Oh shit,” Mike chokes out, and begs with Harvey’s name.
“Take your hand away and pick up the brush.” Mike’s panting. “Calm your breathing, Mike, we’re going to take the sting away a bit. Stroke the soft side of the brush over your ass. Everywhere it hurts. Take your time. One single pass with the bristles.”
Harvey closes his eyes as he listens to Mike obey him; he strokes his cock. The bristles will only take away the sting while they’re actually in contact with his skin. As soon as the brush has moved on, the pain comes alive again, and Mike’s breath speeds up again as he figures that out.
“As soon as you’re done, turn the brush around and smack yourself, and then we’re going to finish it up – fifteen more all at once. Mike, towards the end, you’ll want to ease off, but you won’t. You’re going to hit yourself exactly the same way this last set as you have the ones before. Understood?”
As soon as he hears the first strike, Harvey counts off the rest, rapid-fire. Mike starts making pained sounds on number thirty-nine, a little cry with every strike until Harvey says they’re done.
“Put the brush down,” Harvey says quietly. The full weight of doing this over the phone is hitting him now; he’s ill-at-ease that he can’t see Mike, even though Mike’s probably fine. “Does your arm hurt?”
“Yes. Not as much as my ass, but it’s tired.”
“How is your ass?”
“It’s on fire.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, sir. Yes.”
“Okay. You’re almost done. I want you to massage your striking arm for me. Start at the shoulder, gently dig in to the muscles, try to loosen them up a little, then work your way down. Biceps and triceps, then the flexors and extensors in your forearm – the meaty part where all the actual muscle is. Be more gentle as you move towards your wrist – it’s all tendons, and the nerves and blood vessels are more exposed. Then massage your dominant hand. You were probably gripping the brush a little harder than you ought to. Take your time, and tell me when you’re done. Are you still hard?”
“How’s your ass?”
Harvey runs his tongue over his bottom lip, imagining how cherry-red it must be. He thrusts up into his hand while he waits for Mike to finish.
It takes a few minutes before Mike says, “I’m done with my arm.”
“Okay, good. Pick up the brush and run the soft bristles over your skin again. As light as you want. Go over the whole area twice. Can you do that?”
Harvey realizes this is his window of opportunity to get off. He was going to make Mike jerk himself, but at this point, that’s cruel. It’s not a hardship to make himself come without it. Mike makes these…sounds as he strokes his skin with the brush, and it’s more than enough inspiration.
Harvey imagines he must be squirming – his skin must be good and raw, at this point, oversensitive to the lightest touch. His ass must be hot to the touch, with a couple light welts. If Harvey remembers correctly, his skin is relatively fair.
Harvey imagines running his hands over Mike’s sore ass, the way Mike would yelp if he bit – even lightly – into a cheek, and the way his whole body would jerk if he indulged with one slap of his hand. He thinks about getting Mike on his knees to thank Harvey properly, and how satisfying it would be to fuck him the next day, when he’s marked up with bruises that Harvey beat into his flesh, and that’s it, that’s enough to push him over the edge.
“Did you just come?” Mike asks – moans a little when Harvey says yes.
He pulls himself together a little. “I take the talking to mean you finished doing as I asked?”
“Yes. God, my dick is hard. Is it…I’m guessing it’s too late to change my mind.”
“’Fraid so,” Harvey says. “If you run your hands over your ass with firm pressure, it will override the prickle that the bristles left.”
While Mike complies, Harvey goes to the bathroom to clean himself up. He thinks about aftercare.
“I want you to get on your knees,” he says after a few minutes. “Crawl to your couch.”
It’s as much about safety as it is submission, because Mike’s alone. Harvey planned this scene with that in mind – planned it to be intense enough to work Mike over, but not so hard that he’d be at risk for more subdrop than they can cope with by phone.
In the planning stages, he’d been 100% certain he was hitting that balance; he still thinks he did – Mike sounds fine – but he feels blind, without being able to see and assess for himself. It’s mildly discomfiting, but he pushes it down. Mike doesn’t need his doubt. He just needs to pay close attention.
He gets Mike settled on his side, and makes sure he drinks the water they left out. Then he asks, “How are you doing?”
“Sore,” Mike says, “and horny.”
Harvey grins. “Do you want to do something about that?”
“Well. Yeah, but I can’t actually finish it, so I’d rather not torture myself.”
“Fair enough. What did you think of your first paddling?”
“Safe to say I’d like to do it again.”
“Just, maybe not by myself the second time,” he says, and Harvey feels a red flag go up til Mike follows with, “If my ass is gonna be sore, I’d rather my arm not be killing me.”
Harvey relaxes. “Valid point. How bad is it?”
“I’m exaggerating – it aches, but I’m okay.”
“Massage it out again. Take your time.”
Harvey stays on the line, quiet, while Mike does so. Mike could probably use the peace, and it’ll do a better job of encouraging him to say what’s on his mind than any question.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Mike says, “Can I ask something about your kink list now?”
Harvey’s pretty sure it’s rhetorical – Mike knows he can ask any time. “Sure.”
“Yours had a lot going on on the ‘Outside Parties’ form. You really like that stuff.”
“I do.” It’s one of the reasons he proposed this weekend’s exercise – to test if they might be compatible there. It wouldn’t have ruled out furthering the arrangement with Mike if they hadn’t been, but it’s a preference. The subsection Mike’s referring to covers everything from scening in front of others to lending subs out, and it’s the one part of Harvey’s list that he’s bothered to assign an opinion to everything. Mike’s own copy of the page had indicated cautious interest.
“That depends on which kind of scene we’re talking about, but to cover the bases – I like showing off my things. I like watching. I like being watched. I like owning a sub to the degree where I have the right to give them away, to whomever I choose. I like taking them back again. I like having new experiences. I like my sub to have them, too. Adding another person can change the character of a scene entirely."
“You’re not choosing for me tomorrow.”
“It takes time to trust someone that much with your body. A lot of people never get there, and most people don’t want to. And that’s fine.”
Mike’s quiet for a few minutes. “I think I could. I think I want to.”
He refrains from giving praise for that, though he wants to. He wants to show that it pleases him to hear that, but he doesn’t say it. Mike is both too new and too naturally submissive, and more than anything else, this is an area that requires enthusiastic consent. Without it, you have an impending disaster.
“Okay. Something to discuss more later. How do you feel about the scene this weekend?”
“Excited. Nervous. It doesn’t actually seem real yet.” Harvey hums an acknowledgement, and Mike falls silent for a second before saying, “Shit. Can we change the subject? My dick hurts.”
Harvey smiles; chalk one up towards enthusiastic. “This might not help, but the swelling will have settled and we need to check for damage – grab the hand mirror.”
Harvey has him check for abrasions, welts, areas that are likely to bruise deeper. It’s a precaution, but he’s not surprised when Mike reports everything’s okay.
He has Mike cover up, and they talk until he’s sleepy. About nothing, really. Movies, the city, people at the club Mike will eventually meet. Mike’s funny, and his taste in movies doesn’t suck. His taste in music, on the other hand, is dubious at best.
Harvey’s explaining to him why vinyl is the only way to listen when he realizes Mike is really, truly nodding off.
“Mike,” he says quietly. It takes a few tries before he gets a muddled sound of acknowledgement. “Time to move to the bed. Take the phone and the water with you; be careful.”
“I know how to walk,” Mike grumbles, and Harvey counts it as instant reinforcement when he sits up and hisses in pain.
“I recommend you not take your bike tomorrow.”
Harvey listens as Mike moves to the bedroom, shuts off lights, and gets comfortable.
“Time for us to hang up. Text me in the morning, let me know how you're feeling. And you might want to bring a little Tylenol with you to work, in case you have a hard time concentrating.” Mike makes an affirmative noise, which is Harvey’s cue – the kid’s gone non-verbal, and they don’t want to run his battery down. “Mike, you did well tonight. I was very pleased.” There’s another sound, a little happier in pitch, and Harvey shakes his head, mouth curving. “Hang up the phone now, Mike.”
He waits for the click before he hangs up his own.
thanks as always to mskatej, who is a wonderful beta and critic and friend.
also, please note that the url embedded in this chapter for illustrative purposes is decidedly NSFW. (spoiler alert: it's a dildo)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
On Friday, Mike spends his entire lunch and evening phone calls bitching about how sore his ass is. Harvey lets him – partly because he enjoys hearing about the discomfort, and partly because Mike seems to need to complain, even about things he enjoys. No harm in letting him blow off a little steam, as long as he’s willing to accept Harvey’s derision for it.
Which he is. Naturally. It pushes that humiliation button of his in the right way.
When they hang up on Friday night, Mike’s still at work – putting time in to free up more of his weekend. Harvey tells him they’ll delay their lunch check-in on Saturday for three, so that they can iron out the details of their next scene.
He spends Saturday on his own work, going over contracts his associate drew up. Whatshisface is adequate at this part of the job, but not a visionary – he tends to leave loopholes that could be exploited by a more clever mind.
When Mike calls in the afternoon, Harvey lays out the scene in more detail – what Mike’s allowed to do, what he isn’t, what he’ll need to explain to his pick-up in order to get informed consent.
They discuss what Mike’s comfortable with, what he’s not, and Harvey tells him that he’s suspending their safewords until Mike’s back at his apartment that evening – if Mike feels ill-at-ease, even for a minute, he should just leave. Immediately, and they’ll sort things out once he feels safe again.
He finds out what Mike’s wearing that night (‘dark red slim-fitting sort-of-cargo-pants but nicer’ and a plain gray tee), what the club’s like (young, loud – the kind of place Harvey avoids), and how far it is from Mike’s apartment (not far at all, but Mike’s not allowed to bring the guy home).
The last thing they talk about’s the second half of the scene. Mike’s not allowed to touch himself until he gets home, except to adjust for comfort. He can unzip if he needs to, since his pants will be snug. Self-pleasure will have to wait until they’re alone again – when Harvey has him fuck himself on the dildo he bought.
Harvey has him describe the toy, and they decide together what the most effective placement would be – since the suction only works on smooth, untextured surfaces, the bathroom is obvious, but Mike has a shower stall with tile too small to allow the dildo to stick.
In the end, they decide on two possibilities. If it’s mounted on the sliding glass door of the shower, Mike can fuck himself on it from a standing position, and the stall’s narrow enough that he’ll have good leverage to brace himself. If it’s mounted on the lid of the toilet seat, Mike can ride it by squatting carefully, using the shower stall and bathroom counter for stability. Not the most comfortable position, but Mike seems okay with it.
They also talk about Mike’s plug collection, and pick one he’ll wear when he’s out. It’s contoured for prostate stimulation, but small enough that Mike will be able to move normally.
Before they hang up, Harvey runs through the salient points again, and gives Mike the order with which he should get ready to go out: eat dinner, scrub his bathroom, then shower, lube and plug. He should mount the dildo on the shower door, making sure it will stay put, before he gets dressed and leaves the house.
They won’t speak again until he’s made his choice, which had better be before midnight. He can have a single drink, but no more.
“Shit,” Mike says towards the end. “I’m honestly not sure I’ll be able to fit my dick in these pants. I’m already so hard.”
Harvey smirks. “In that case, I’ll add that the no-touching rule is in effect, as of now.”
He catches Mike’s groan just before he ends the call.
At 11:30, Harvey gets a call from Mike’s cell phone from a gentleman that identifies himself as Chuy.
More specifically, identifies himself by saying, “So, hey man, this is Chuy – your slave told me to call you.”
Harvey stops, pulls the phone away from his ear and glares at it. Really, Mike? Maybe they should have a conversation about standards.
He brings the phone back to his ear and schools his tone. “Did he explain what I’ve asked him to do?”
“He said he was gonna blow me while you listened in and stuff. ’S cool with me.”
“Did he also tell you I’d want to give you some instruction, on things like how to touch him?”
“Yeah, yeah, like. I’m down with it. Head’s head, you know?”
Harvey rolls his eyes. The exercise is somewhat wasted on this guy, but for whatever reason, Mike chose him – they’ll go with it.
A horn blares, and suddenly, Harvey realizes there’s a lot of street noise. They could be near an open window, but….
“Where are the two of you right now?”
“In the alley behind the club.”
Harvey takes a breath and counts to three. “Do me a favor and give the phone to my ‘slave,’ would you?”
There’s a muffled, “Dude wants to talk to you,” and then Mike is saying hello.
“Were you planning on doing this in an alley?”
There’s a pause. “You said I could pick where.”
“I also said you should keep safety in mind.”
“It is safe. Ish.”
“In the future, please avoid appending ‘ish’ to any of my orders. And you should also consider ‘safety’ to include ‘safety from prosecution.’”
“I thought you’d like it,” Mike says quietly, and with enough genuine contrition that Harvey eases off a little.
“I’m not angry with you,” Harvey lies, because it’s not entirely fair to be, and he suspects the decision ties in with a few of Mike’s kinks. “But it’s needlessly risky.”
“Where do you want us to go?”
In the background, Harvey hears Chuy say, “I’m crashing on my buddy’s couch, it’s just a few blocks from here.”
Crashing on a buddy’s couch. Of course he is.
“Did you hear that?” Mike says.
“Yes. Fine with me if it’s fine with you.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when we get there. Harvey?” he says before he can hang up. “I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Call me.”
In the ten minutes he spends waiting for Mike to get somewhere with a door, Harvey revises his plan somewhat. He has less than no interest in hearing his orders transmuted into dudespeak, and he cringes to imagine what ‘Chuy’ would spout when pressed to describe what Mike’s doing to him.
Besides, this guy doesn’t deserve to dominate Mike, even by proxy. Putting himself in Mike’s ear instead makes this a very different scene, but it’s the best option Harvey has.
When Mike rings back, Harvey takes a second to make sure that he has the hands-free with him, then steels himself to talk to Chuy again.
“You’re not allowed to push, pull, thrust or…speak,” Harvey starts before Chuy can get a word in. The last is an impulsive addition, but brilliant, if you ask him. “You are allowed to make noise – just no words longer than a syllable. You’re allowed to touch him, but not direct his activities. You can lay your hands on his head, on his neck, shoulders, arms. You can touch his face. Don’t touch his throat. Do you understand?”
Dead silence. Harvey rubs his forehead.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to talk.”
Harvey sighs. “You can talk to me, right now. Not to Mike, once we get started. Did you understand the rules?”
“Yeah, man. I can’t, you know, shove him down or fuck his face or anything, but I can touch him. I’m allowed to cuss or whatever, but otherwise keep my mouth shut.”
Good enough. “Where are the two of you right now.”
“My buddy’s apartment.”
Harvey waits a beat, but that’s it. “A bedroom?”
“No way, man. Total bro-code violation – you don’t get head on another dude’s mattress. Not without his okay.”
Well. Harvey kind of can’t help himself. “But christening his sofa is just fine?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, this is kind of my bed right now, right?”
“…Right. So is your friend out of town, or is he likely to come in and find the happy event in progress?”
“Uh. He’s still down at the bar. Depends on whether he finds a ‘happy event’ of his own, I guess.” Chuy starts to laugh at his own joke, and Harvey’s done now.
“Okay, put Mike back on the phone.” As soon as Harvey is handed over, he says, “Has anybody ever told you that you have terrible taste in men?”
He can tell Mike is smiling when he speaks. “What exactly does that say about you?”
“It says that I was chosen for you by someone with judgment far superior to your own. Really, Mike? This guy?”
“He has a nice dick. I checked before we left the club.”
Harvey has to pause for a moment to consider how that conversation would have gone, but they can discuss it another time. “All right, well, since that’s the only thing he has going for him, let’s confirm your evaluation in better light. And make sure there aren’t any syphilitic sores on his crotch.”
Harvey is suspicious that there’s an eyeroll on Mike’s part; it’s partially his fault for setting the wrong tone when he knows Mike has trouble with that, but he amuses himself by saying, “Don’t roll your eyes at me. We don’t know where he’s been,” and smirking at the soft sound of surprise Mike makes in return.
“Let me sync up the earpiece, hang on.”
After the tone sounds, Mike is back.
Before Harvey starts shifting this in the direction it needs to go, he asks, “Were you aware that his friends might come home?”
“I caught that from his end of your conversation.”
“How do you feel about that?”
He can almost hear the shrug. “It’s fine.”
There’s something else in the tenor of Mike’s voice that has Harvey asking, “Maybe part of the thrill?”
“Maybe,” Mike admits, and Harvey hears him unzip Chuy’s fly. “So I thought we were doing this the other way around. With you talking to him.”
“That was before you picked someone with a complete and utter lack of gravitas. So instead of you being the toy that he and I play with together – ” Harvey has to pause and collect himself at the way that image causes Mike to draw in a breath, at how much Mike likes it. “Since we can’t have that, we’re going to make use of his single redeeming quality. He’s a dick you can suck for me.”
From the breathy quality of Mike’s “okay,” Harvey thinks this arrangement is just as agreeable.
“Does he pass inspection, then?”
Without being told, Mike takes a breath and settles himself into a more appropriate frame of mind. Harvey can hear the difference when Mike says, “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy,” Harvey’s saying, before the correct address even registers. It’s been so long since his partners have had a learning curve; he forgot the bone-deep satisfaction when behaviors stick. When a new sub corrects their own bad habits without being reminded. “Tell me about it. You can stroke him hard while you do.”
“He’s already hard. Seven inches, cut. Really pretty. It’s one of those dicks that doesn’t get red, just a deeper shade of brown.”
“You’re dying to get your mouth on him, aren’t you?” he says, enjoying the soft but heartfelt ‘yeah.’ Harvey can hear muttering in the background – maybe Chuy getting impatient – and has to adjust himself as his dick thickens. He has no plans to touch himself until Mike is home, riding the dildo. “Okay, wrap him up.”
Mike makes a disappointed noise, but they’ve been over this so he doesn’t voice his objection. No one wants gonorrhea of the throat, and Chuy doesn’t strike him as a careful guy.
In fact, Harvey can hear him start to protest as Mike rips the condom wrapper. “You wrap him up or you walk out – make that clear right now.”
Mike repeats it for Chuy’s benefit, and the debate is abruptly finished. Funny, that.
Harvey’s asked, “Can I…?” and as soon as he’s given his blessing, there’s a muffled sigh, like Mike is just that happy to get that dick in his mouth.
Jesus. The things Harvey can do with that kind of enthusiasm.
“I wish I could see you like this.” Not what Harvey meant to say, but true nonetheless. Mike moans a little, and there’s a sound in the background that must be Chuy. “Are you hard?”
There’s a soft pop as Mike pulls free, and Harvey lets his hips rock, just riding the gentle wave of lust. “Yes,” Mike answers, a little breathless. Harvey’s fairly certain he licks the dick in his hand before he continues, “I’ve been half-hard all night.”
“Tell me why. You can keep blowing him.”
There’s a pinched sound from Mike’s throat, then the distinct sound of swallowing cock, the wet choked thrusts that draw out a cry of pleasure. Then he’s back, breathing heavily. “I used to think about this, with…. If there were a bunch of guys over, I’d think about. Being on my knees and going around the room.” Mike breaks off into a messy tongue job, and Harvey hears fuck…yeah. Jesus in the background. “Trevor never wanted anyone to know about us, though, so it never….”
Harvey’s glad. Probably explains his appalling choice, though. “We can make that happen. If you want it to.”
There’s a hint of a question there, answered when Mike makes a desperate sound and the furious sucking resumes. Harvey cups his dick over how excited Mike is, but the kid probably can’t keep this pace up for long.
“Slow down, Mike. Just a little.” He listens; Mike’s a noisy cocksucker. Whether that’s normal for him or he’s making an extra effort, it’s hot as fuck – hearing the gulps and sucking sounds and pleased hums, and translating the sounds into actions in his mind. The mystery makes the experience sharper, and as Mike follows his order and takes his time, there are more cues to be interpreted. Harvey probably could come from this if he jerked himself. “There you go. That’s good. Keep working him like that.”
It doesn’t just sound good, it feels amazing, judging by the racket being made in the background. The rise and fall of Chuy’s voice, and the swearing that accompanies it, has Harvey indulging himself a little. He refrains from actually stroking, just allowing himself a little contact, giving himself something to press against as his hips rock.
“As I was saying. It’s easy enough to set up. At the club, or someone’s home.”
Harvey’s itching to set it up himself – this and so many other things – but he’s careful about his language. He’s decided for himself that he’d like to be the one that trains Mike, but Mike has to choose that as well.
Enticements, though, are perfectly above board. “I know exactly who I’d get, too, if it were up to me. Is four a good number?”
The sound Mike produces around the dick in his mouth is a clear affirmative.
“Mm, you say that now, but I wonder if you could handle it. You’re thinking about the number. Think about this: four grown men. Not frat boys. Men that know good head when they get it, and won’t settle for a sloppy job when you’re tired. I wouldn’t let you off the hook partway through, even if you begged me to let you rest – you want four, you’ve got to finish them.”
He hears Mike speeding his pace, and doesn’t chastise him. It’s about time they started wrapping up Act One of the night.
“By the time we finished passing you around – ” Harvey has to breathe when he catches the needy noise that Mike makes, Jesus Christ – “ – you’d be worn out and sore. Your knees, your jaw, your tongue. Your lips. Maybe bruised. Definitely filthy. And then we’d get to vote – does Mike deserve to come? If you’d done a good job, we’d let you jerk yourself off, on the floor in the middle of the room. If you’d been a disappointment, I’d lock you in a cage for a few days. Teach you to be careful what you ask for.”
Harvey’s wound himself up so tight, he has to move around the room, impatient as Mike finishes Chuy off. Mike hardly comes up for air by the end, but as soon as the job is done, he pants out, “Is that…. We could do that? Just that way?”
“Yes,” Harvey says, and maybe he should point out that Gina can arrange it regardless of his involvement, but he doesn’t. “Yeah, Mike. Exactly like that.” Mike groans. “How’s the plug?”
“Making me crazy.”
“I want you to slide your hand down the back of your pants and play with it.” He hear when Mike obeys, in the way his breath sticks. “Fuck yourself with it.”
Mike hisses, then starts these punched-out breathy sounds that force Harvey to say, “Stop.”
Harvey collects himself. This isn’t something he intends to share this time, though he’s not even sure Chuy’s conscious any more. It seems like he stopped existing to Mike after he came.
Still. They’re doing this right.
“Go straight home, take your clothes off, and don’t call me until you’re ready to sit on that dildo the moment I say hello.”
He hangs up, before he keeps Mike from making it out the door.
When the phone rings twenty minutes later, Harvey’s greeted by the long, grateful groan of a power bottom getting filled. Harvey took the break to get himself to bed, and he’s been jerking off ever since, but that’s a sound that goes straight to his balls.
“How’s the dildo?” he asks, just to get Mike to talk about it.
“Good,” Mike breathes. “Really good.”
“Fuck yourself on it. Make noise. Don’t touch your dick. Don’t come.”
Mike starts out hard and fast, from the sound of things, but Harvey doesn’t stop him. He closes his eyes and strokes himself in time with the needy/satisfied noise of Mike backing his ass aggressively onto the dildo. He hisses at the way his name flies out of Mike’s mouth. Familiar. Like Mike isn’t simply begging, but begging Harvey in particular.
“Greedy,” Harvey accuses. “How close are you?”
Mike sounds breathless and pained. “Very. Very close.”
“Stop working yourself on it. Sit down all the way, lean against the glass wall and circle your hips.” Harvey knows the angle will make the dick strain against the front wall of Mike’s ass, the roll of his hips causing a rhythmic press where Mike needs it. The sound Mike makes. Jesus.
This isn’t going to bring him back from the edge at all, but the final build will be slower than it would have been.
“Oh God…. Harvey – ”
“Keep going. Wrap your hand around your cock and stroke it slowly.”
After a few tight breaths, Mike says, “Can I come?”
“No. Keep going. You will not go faster, you won’t grip harder. Understood?”
“Fuck,” Mike spits, and before Harvey can say anything, follows up with a desperate, “Yes, sir.”
Of course, those rules don’t apply to Harvey, who starts stroking faster, imagining the slutty roll of Mike’s hips as he fucks himself alone in the shower. The expression that must go with all those pained sounds. Harvey’s recollection of what Mike looks like is getting vague – a lean frame, short blond hair, pale eyes. But Harvey bets he’s gorgeous right now. There’s a universal kind of beauty to desperation, and Mike seems unabashed in his.
“You’re going to keep moving exactly like that until you come. No cheating, even when it’s so close you taste it, do you hear me?”
“God. Okay. Yes. It’s…I’m….”
Almost there, clearly, and Harvey can guess how strong the impulse is to change something, do something just a little more, better, different, to push himself over the edge. Mike’s breath is shuddering with the restraint of letting it come on its own.
Harvey listens as Mike gets more and more ragged, begging Harvey, eventually, though that doesn’t change his mind. It does fray his very last thread of control, though, and he lets himself come, conscious of the ‘fuckfuckfuck’ chant beating in his ear as Mike starts losing himself.
He can tell, up through the last few seconds where Mike’s huffing huge draughts of air, that Mike’s following his rules, and when Mike finally comes, Harvey feels a corresponding wave of pleasure and satisfaction.
“Oh my God,” Mike says a moment later. “I don’t think I can haul myself off it. My knees are all…Jesus.”
Harvey smiles. He thinks he’s going to need a repeat performance that he can watch. “Be careful,” he says. “I’m proud of you. You did so well.”
Mike doesn’t say anything, but Harvey doesn’t need him to. It seems like he’s moving around now, getting ready for bed, and Harvey just goes along, to make sure he gets there alright. He’d probably benefit from a shower, but he seems to be stumbling towards imminent collapse instead.
“How do you feel?” Harvey asks once he falls into bed.
Mike’s voice is slurry. “Really good.”
“Call me in the morning, when you wake up.”
There’s a muffled sound that might be a yes, and Mike hangs up.
ETA belatedly: fyi, I may not be able to update next week - I'm still working on some edits for chapter 8 and my sister/BiL will be in town over the weekend and beyond. if I don't update next week, the next update should be May 7th. thanks for understanding!
I appreciate everyone being very patient during the short hiatus. posting a few days ahead, cuz it's ready now and yay
And I swear to god, this is the last chapter before they meet in person, haha. Just putting that out there so you can stop agonizing over how much longer I’m going to string you along.
Mike doesn’t call on Sunday until morning has almost become afternoon, but from the groggy slur of his voice, he’s still half-asleep. Harvey figures it counts in the spirit of his order, but gives Mike a hard time anyway.
“It’s the Sabbath, Harvey. I’m doing God’s work, here.”
Harvey shakes his head, mouth tucked in at the corner. “There’s sleeping in, and then there’s falling into a coma. I slept in.”
“Slept in until when?” Mike asks suspiciously.
“Oh, God, you’re one of those. I bet you went running.”
“Close – I went to the gym.”
“Right, of course. Why run outside when you can overpay for a juice bar and gleaming space-age equipment.”
Harvey smirks. A vending machine would be space-age for Pete’s. Nothing gleams but the guy’s head, and the whole place smells like sweaty feet and three-days-unwashed ass. It’s perfect. “You got me pegged, Mike.”
“So what did you want to talk about, anyway?” Mike says around a yawn.
“I want to hear what you thought about this week, since our time’s up – what you liked, what you didn’t.” He doesn’t want to put pressure on Mike, but there’s no need to be coy about his own thoughts. “I’m interested in working with you more, but if you want to move on to someone else, I can share thoughts with Gina on other doms you might fit with.”
There’s a beat. “Will you do it, too?”
“Will I do what?”
“Will you tell me what you thought, what you liked and didn’t?”
“Sure,” Harvey says easily. “Want me to go first?”
Because Mike already knows this, and because it sets a precedent of blunt honesty: “I didn’t like Chuy.”
There’s a smile in Mike’s voice when he says, “Yeah, I kind of figured.”
“I know you did. But more than that, I know you were aware that I wouldn’t when you picked him up. And that’s a bigger problem than him.”
“You said I could pick.”
“I did. And it wasn’t a trick. But you picked him knowing it would displease me, which is a problem for me. That’s not a quality I want in a sub; I want someone who wants to please me with his choices, the same way I’m trying to please him with mine. And you’re a natural at that.” Before Mike can get defensive, Harvey switches gears on him. “You’re very good at picking up on cues and you want to please, when you’re not fighting yourself. I enjoyed that very much.”
“I wasn’t fighting - ”
Harvey cuts him off, firm but calm. “Yes, you were. And that’s fine. This is all very new, and the fighting it’s part of that. But so is getting better, so I’m telling you: disregarding what your partner will enjoy is not an option. From either side.”
“I didn’t pick him because you wouldn’t like him,” Mike says quietly. He’s a little too subdued for Harvey’s liking but this part is hard. One thing Harvey’s learned this week is that Mike’s knee-jerk response to criticism is to bite back; but if he realizes he’s wrong, he’ll take a dizzying one-eighty to contrition. Harvey’s not fond of that kind of overreaction in general, but it also shows a willingness to apologize he can work with. With more time, they’ll smooth out the edges.
“I know. But that still doesn’t make it okay.”
Mike’s quiet for a few minutes, and Harvey holds his tongue. Waiting. “It would’ve been better with someone else. At least he had a nice dick.”
Harvey rolls his eyes a little. “Something to be said for that, I suppose. So, your turn. Tell me something you liked, and didn’t.”
After a moment of thought, Mike says, “You don't have to remind me about my safeword or the rules so much.” It’s a complaint that’s more softball than Harvey’s, but he expected that, and anyway, he’s too busy enjoying the thrill of victory at the implicit expectation of future play. “I never forget anything. I get why you’re doing it, and I appreciate it, but I promise I'll remember to use them if I need to.”
“Okay,” Harvey says. And because he's curious – has been all week – “You never forget anything?”
“Not really. I mean, I forget to pick up my phone or whatever when I leave the room, but I'll always know exactly where I left it. I have an eidetic memory – perfect photographic, near-perfect auditory.”
Harvey considers this. “Give me the first paragraph of any New York Times article from Friday.”
“‘Bank of America is set to eliminate at least 3,500 jobs in the coming months, as the beleaguered financial giant seeks to cut costs and restructure amid deepening shareholder dissatisfaction.’”
“Second sentence of Moby Dick.” Anyone who’s literate knows ‘Call me Ishmael.’
“‘Some years ago – never mind how long precisely – having little or no money in my purse and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.’ Although, I prefer the third sentence, ‘It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation.’”
“Favorite obscure line from Casablanca.”
Mike takes a second to choose, affecting a decent impression of Annina. “Oh, monsieur, you are a man. If someone loved you very much, so that your happiness was the only thing that she wanted in the world, but she did a bad thing to make certain of it, could you forgive her?”
“New York Penal Code, Article 221, Section 5.”
Harvey is careful to propose it in the same tone of voice as everything else, and Mike reels it off just as naturally, just as confidently, adding a flourish of mockery for the official spelling.
“A person is guilty of unlawful possession of marihuana when he knowingly and unlawfully possesses marihuana. Unlawful possession of marihuana is a violation punishable only by a – ”
Harvey can pinpoint the moment Mike realizes how telling it is that he can quote state law, because he slams to a halt. Harvey lets it lie there for a second, lets it sink in that he knows. Then he gives Mike an out if he needs one. “I figured any stoner as smart as you would know that one.”
Mike is audibly relieved. “Yeah, it came in handy a time or two.”
“I bet. Anyway – neat parlor trick. You're like a parrot.”
“It's not just that. I actually learn it. I process information like no one you've ever known.” It's just shy of a boast, but a little more than a statement of fact. Like it's a facet of himself he's come to take for granted, but he's also eager to impress Harvey, and knows that this will.
“I believe you,” Harvey says. To an extent. Part of him's dying to test it out further, but there's plenty of time for that, if Mike wants to keep playing. They should stay focused on their debrief. “Back to safewords, and your ability to remember them: I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m going to keep reminding you as I see fit, at least for the first few months. There are going to be situations where I’ll want to be sure you realize you have a choice – whether it’s because you’re in subspace, or because the thing I’m asking is…non-traditional enough that I think you might overlook that your safewords apply. Perfect recall has nothing to do with that.”
“That makes sense.”
“What was something that you liked?”
Harvey isn’t surprised when Mike’s knee-jerk answer is that he enjoyed nearly everything; with as long as Mike’s wanted this, any decent Dom would be like water in the desert, and Harvey knows that he’s far better than decent.
“If I told you that you had to pick your favorite thing, specifically, what would it be?”
Harvey’s expecting something like the paddling, but instead, Mike says, “I don’t know if this is specific enough, but…the way you talk to me.”
“I – ” It’s probably the first time all week Harvey’s seen Mike at an actual loss for words. He struggles with himself for a few moments, and Harvey lets him. He’s not sure whether Mike is honestly unable to pinpoint it, or just reluctant to say what he’s thinking out loud, but as the moment drags on and yields nothing, Harvey decides to help him for now.
“The tone of voice?” he prompts.
“No. Well, yes, I mean. Yes, but it’s.” He takes a frustrated breath, and then plows ahead, though he sounds just a little bit embarrassed. “I like that you’re dismissive, which is funny, because you’d think I get enough of that already at work…but you’re not actually dismissing me, so I guess that might be the difference. It’s not just tone though, it’s content. But….”
“When one of us is getting off, you’re nicer.”
“And you don’t like that.”
“No, I do. It’s….” Mike pauses for a moment to think. “The rest of the time, I can’t always tell which attitude to expect, and that’s…I think I’d like that to carry over.”
“Okay. That’s good – that’s helpful. What else do you like?”
“Sometimes it’s like you’re wiretapping my brain,” Mike says in a rush, and Harvey smiles.
“Give me an example.”
“When we talk about fantasies. Like last night. When you were talking about me blowing four guys.”
“Well, at risk of demystifying myself, that isn’t mind-reading. Our fantasies are just compatible.”
“Yeah,” Mike says, like he knows and it’s hard to believe it. There’s enough excitement and longing there that Harvey feels vertigo, on the edge of a long, dangerous fall.
He yanks himself back, though. It’s natural for Mike to charge ahead, to chase this new thrill. Harvey knows better, and he needs to take this at the right pace. Mike won’t thank him later if they both rush into the deep end.
“…so I was thinking we’d tell Gina we’ll continue,” Mike is saying. “Same ground rules, but longer – two weeks? A month?”
Harvey takes a breath. “No.”
“I – ” Mike seems to come up short. “Okay, but I thought you said you wanted – ”
“I want to keep working with you, but not by phone. At least, not just by phone, and not any further until we do something in person. Which means setting it up through Gina – she’ll insist on that.”
“Right. Okay, I’ll set up the meeting?”
“Sure. Next Sunday at the earliest, this week is tight for me.” Plus, it will do Mike some good to have time to mull things over.
Mike sounds disappointed, but it’s only a week. Until the mediation, which probably means two until they actually scene. Still, two weeks is nothing. Two weeks isn’t long at all.
On Monday, Harvey gets a text from Mike saying that Gina will be out of town the coming weekend. What about the Friday after that, at eight?
Harvey agrees, though he’s somewhat annoyed; the chances are slim Mike can make time for that and the scene that same weekend, which pushes their playtime a week further out. The time constraints of a weekday aren’t acceptable for their first time.
He has no reason to expect to hear from Mike while they wait, but Mike reaches out to Harvey every day that week. Mostly by text. His messages tend to be inane, but amuse Harvey regardless. Most of them revolve around food, leading Harvey to conclude all Mike does is work and eat.
The first one comes later that Monday, and it says:
Napoleon says I can’t have street meat.
Harvey sees it in the town car on the way back from a (very lucrative) meeting, and he’s high enough from the success that it makes him smile even as his eyebrows gather.
I really hope we’re talking about hot dog vendors.
Well. Yes. Though, the other thing too.
He has a hot dog that afternoon, because he can. He doesn’t tell Mike.
He thinks that first time’s a fluke, that Mike decided to text him because they’d been corresponding about Gina. But that’s just the first of many texts sent for no reason. Harvey’s torn between exasperation and pleasure, and is becoming convinced the illustrious Trevor was Mike’s only friend. The messages don’t refer to kink at all; they’re more like random throwaway thoughts Mike wants to share with someone:
Tuesday, just past midnight, he gets: Red Bull intake approaching critical mass. Send help. Possibly, defibrillator.
At 1:30 on Wednesday: Boss took me to lunch. By which I mean, his. I watched him eat. Bought me expensive bottled water and nothing else. WHY.
And, frighteningly, at seven in the morning on Thursday: Have you ever had pizza with cheese in the crust? Blew my mind.
Harvey always shoots some sort of reply back, though they run along the lines of What are you, twelve? and For god’s sake, eat a vegetable.
The text messages aren’t the only time he thinks about Mike that week. He also thinks about him when he’s jerking off, but doesn’t find that the least bit surprising.
What does throw him off is that his thoughts drift to Mike when he’s elsewhere. Anytime his mind isn’t occupied, he finds himself constructing scenes and thinking of things he wants to try. He hasn’t been focused on kink this way since he was new himself.
It’s an itch underneath his skin that has him picking up when Mike calls Friday evening. Their mediation is still another week away, and he meant what he said about phone play – he knows before he picks up that Mike is probably calling to change Harvey’s mind.
He shouldn’t answer. But he does.
Mike’s still at work, and says he called for a distraction. Harvey humors him, and they spend the first few minutes on things neither of them cares about right now.
Harvey can anticipate Mike’s decision to stop playing coy, to the second. “So.”
“No,” he says immediately.
“But – ”
“I said no, Mike.”
Mike huffs a breath out through his nose, and Harvey smirks. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not what you need. It’s better than nothing, so you want it, but it doesn’t really get you there, and that’s why you’re a mouthy little shit.”
He can hear Mike’s smile. “I thought I was a mouthy little shit by nature.”
“You are. And I like it. But not when you’re submitting. Besides,” Harvey adds, “I already know what I’m going to do with you next, and it doesn’t work by phone.”
“You know…you’ll need to share that before our meeting anyway, so. Why not now?”
Because it’s more fun to jerk Mike around, that’s why. “You wanna suck my dick, Mike?”
“Okay. I’m going to let you. If you earn it.”
“How do I – ”
“By doing what I tell you, until I’m satisfied.”
“What are you going to – ”
“You’ll find out.”
Harvey can hear Mike lick his lip. “You’ll have to tell me details, for our meeting with Gina.”
“But you’re not going to give them to me now?”
Harvey smiles. “No, I don’t think so.”
Mike makes a frustrated sound but doesn’t argue or bargain; Harvey’s not sure if he’s remembering he’s not allowed to, or just figures it won’t do any good. “I wish we didn’t have to wait.”
Harvey bites down hard on the urge to grin. “Mm.”
“We don’t even need – I mean, we can handle this ourselves.”
“We can,” Harvey agrees, keeping his tone as light as possible. “But those are the rules.”
Like he’s ever given a shit about that.
Mike’s quiet for a moment. “What would happen if we…didn’t wait?”
He pretends to think about it – as if he hasn’t thought about it all week. “Well, Gina would be pretty pissed. More at me than you.”
“But it’s my idea.”
“Oh, but I know better,” Harvey says, and gives up fighting the impulse to grin.
“How much trouble are we talking about, here?” Mike asks, practically spoiling for some wiggle room.
“Well. If you told her it was your idea…. I’ll be in the doghouse, but she won’t revoke my membership.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
Harvey laughs. “I don’t know, what did you have in mind?”
“C’mon, I’m serious.”
“I know you are,” Harvey assures him, amused. “If I had the proper incentive, I could clear my evening. You?”
“Yeah. But now you’ve gotta tell me the plan.”
Harvey laughs and teases, “Do I?” But before Mike can argue, he continues, “How about this: let’s negotiate over dinner tomorrow. I’ll cook something light, and if you want, we’ll go from there.”
Mike’s quiet for a minute – long enough that Harvey wonders if he’s uncomfortable with that. Before Harvey can offer specifics, he comes back with, “How do I know you’re not a terrible cook?”
“I guess you’ll have to take your chances. Any food allergies?”
“I’m terribly allergic to vegan food, or anything that might also be served on a private jet.”
Harvey smiles. “Noted. How’s five?”
“For what, our grandmothers?”
“For an early dinner, followed by an evening of enjoyable depravity.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, that works.”
“I’ll send you my address. Take a taxi – I’m telling the doorman to turn away anyone who smells like bike sweat.”
another porn!hanger – you’ve been warned. otoh, 5k of porn next week, and more porn the week after...now with Actual Touching!TM woohoo!
after a couple weeks of being stymied, I'm on a roll with this again. if only I didn't have to work for a living, I'd probably be 20,000 words richer.
Harvey led Mike to believe he had a specific plan, but that was a bit of misdirection – Harvey has dozens of plans, a handful of which fall within the rough description he’d given Mike. He doesn’t settle on a plan until Saturday afternoon.
It’s not a matter of which scene Harvey would like best, although he’s fairly certain Mike would enjoy whatever that is. It’s about long-term strategy.
Harvey’s had subs that pushed back before, and he’s had subs that were eager to please. He’s had subs that fell somewhere in the middle, and those that swung from one to the other.
He’s never had a sub that held both qualities, simultaneously, all the time. It’s still possible that’s the result of starting this by phone, but Harvey doesn’t think so. He thinks it’s just Mike.
He’s also smart. Smart and pushy are a challenging combination, and if Mike were anyone else, Harvey would think he needed a hard hand.
But there’s also a craving for approval in Mike so pronounced that Harvey thinks ‘unforgiving taskmaster’ would be a huge mistake.
All told, Mike requires a tricky balance – ‘good Dom’ / ‘bad Dom’ in a constant state of flux. He needs to be put down hard for some things, and given a long amount of leeway in others. He needs someone to keep the carrot dangling out of reach, and he needs frequent rewards. Luckily, Mike is quick to pick up on implied or nonverbal praise just fine, and a little goes a long way when it does come to words. That’ll make striking the right balance that much easier.
Rather than being a hardass, Harvey thinks the trick with Mike is to give generously with one hand while holding back with the other. Keep him wanting and guessing – it’s something Mike explicitly asked for, as well, which is telling. The request was probably intended to apply on a smaller scale, but Harvey thinks it’ll serve him well as the fundamental principle of their relationship.
But as much as Mike enjoys Harvey being capricious, he’d eventually get worn down if Harvey was fickle across the board – no one will keep striving for obedience indefinitely if the certainty of reward is completely unpredictable and independent of effort. Harvey’d bet his career that the key to Mike’s submission is to force him to claw and fight for every inch Harvey gives – but that’s untenable if applied to everything. Harvey will need to split their scenes between things that will come easy and give Mike a feeling of frequent reward, and things he’ll need to work for, and work for hard
Once that’s worked out, it’s fairly simple to decide what will be feast and what will be famine. Mike is starving to explore kink. A certain amount of pacing is prudent, obviously, but Harvey thinks he’d do well to be indulgent on fulfilling those fantasies.
Harvey thinks explicit praise isn’t something he can safely withhold from Mike, either. He’ll need to run a middle road, there – doling out recognition when Mike’s earned it and letting him feel the sting of disapproval when it’s needed.
Which really only leaves one thing to withhold for now – just one remaining thing Mike will grovel for. Though really, it feels as much an imposition on Harvey as on Mike.
The things he’s willing to sacrifice.
Laying the stage for the scene – even one as simple as this – requires a dozen or more decisions that Mike will never realize were by conscious design. Which is, by itself, a deliberate choice – the best way to establish control is making it seem effortless.
The little manipulations hardly require any effort at all – skewing the setting of a meeting in his favor is something he does every single day at work. So they’re simple: making sure the meal is halfway done when Mike gets there will ensure Mike has to wait for Harvey to finish, but not give him enough time to settle. Eating on the deck will feel casual enough to put Mike at ease, while showcasing Harvey’s real estate. And they won’t start negotiating the scene until the sun sets, making things more intimate.
When they go inside, they’ll scene in the living room – the use of a public space, the huge wall of windows, the bright track lights, and the lack of ambient music will make Mike feel exposed. Mike’s placement on the glass-topped coffee table will be cold, sterile and on display, while, by contrast, Harvey will be comfortably settled in an armchair with a scotch, like it’s any other evening.
Harvey wants to be overdressed compared to Mike at every point of the evening, but he also wants it to look like he didn’t put effort into being so – that’s a decision that takes slightly longer than the others. He usually prefers a suit – something too outdated for work – but that’s ridiculous when Mike knows he hasn’t worked that day, so he settles on soft gray slacks, a black button-up, and a broken-in pair of Gucci’s that, at this point, are practically house shoes. Mike will undoubtedly be wearing jeans and casual footwear – hopefully not a t-shirt. The difference should be plenty.
The logistics of the scene require actual consideration. Harvey’s dying to use restraints on Mike – he thinks Mike will respond so well to them – but no matter how he slices it, they won’t work for this scene. Next time. And there’s probably something to be said for making Mike exercise his own willpower in their place. There are a laundry list of other choices Harvey makes beforehand – the specific rules he’ll lay down, when and how Mike will lose his clothes, who will lube Mike up, when Harvey will get his scotch and who will serve it, when and how each of them should come. What he wants to play by ear, what he needs to stand firm on.
Physically and emotionally, Mike won’t need much aftercare, but Harvey would rather he stay – for a few hours, if not the night – so Harvey puts some thought into that. There’s a chance he’ll take it personally when Harvey denies him what he wants most – or he might just whine. It’s hard to say.
The first words he says to Mike in person are, “You’re late,” and Harvey’s as displeased by the necessity of that as the tardiness itself. When the doorman called up about Mike at 5:06, Harvey had Mike sent to the public elevator bank; he didn’t deserve to experience the private one.
So Mike is at his front door, looking a tiny bit startled as Harvey blocks the way. He turns his wrist to look at the time. “Just a few minutes.”
“You’re supposed to be here when I tell you to be here.”
Mike stares at him, obviously of the opinion Harvey’s being unreasonable. He doesn’t say so, though, and Harvey can tell it’s a close thing. As a reward for that show of self-control, he moves out of the doorway and gestures Mike inside.
Mike hovers in the front hall, appearing on the verge of introducing himself but clearly aware how ridiculous that is, given what they’ve shared so far. Harvey takes pity on his inability to navigate the admittedly unique circumstances, and says, “Shoes and socks.”
It’s not a rule of the house; he just wants to start with an order and highlight the power differential here; Mike clocks that Harvey’s wearing shoes before propping himself against the wall to unlace his sneakers. Harvey gauged Mike’s clothing choice correctly – he’s pleased with the navy button-down. It flatters him.
Once Mike’s barefoot – vulnerable toes flexing against the hardwood – Harvey guides him towards the great room with a light hand on his back.
It doesn’t take long for Mike’s self-consciousness to pass. “Something smells amazing.”
“Stir-fry.” The recipe’s light but unpretentious, and Mike approves, if his happy groan’s anything to go by.
He gives Mike’s spine a parting caress before returning to the stove. He prods at a few of the vegetables – still a little too crunchy. Another three or four minutes should do it.
“How’s your alcohol tolerance?” While he’d given Mike permission to have a drink last Saturday while he made his pickup, Harvey has no clue if he’d taken the offer – he’d sounded perfectly sober.
“Pretty good,” Mike answers faintly.
Harvey smiles, perfectly aware of why Mike sounds distracted. Harvey glances over his shoulder as he stirs and, sure enough, Mike is staring at the seating area, already set up for their scene. The glass coffee table’s been drawn closer to the armchair Harvey favors, and the table’s clear except for Harvey’s own suction-cup dildo, already fixed in place – jutting obscenely towards the ceiling. It’s flesh-colored, molded for realism – though perhaps the realism of a well-endowed porn star. It’s ten inches long and a very generous handful in terms of girth.
The track lights on the high ceiling are practically spotlighting it, and the tactic worked a charm – Mike’s frozen, almost slack-jawed, hands curled into fists. If Harvey needed any indication that Mike’s a size queen, the virtual drool confirms it.
Smiling to himself, Harvey turns off the burner and plates the meal, adding a fork to each before bothering to snap Mike out of it.
“Mike,” Harvey prompts, and the kid startles, cheeks flushing when he sees Harvey’s holding out two dishes. Harvey doesn’t bother to hide his amusement as Mike takes the food off his hands. “We’ll eat on the deck – why don’t you take these out? I just need to get the beer.”
There’s one more surreptitious look at the coffee table as he goes in the direction Harvey pointed him; Harvey grabs two bottles out of the fridge – local microbrew that should pair well with the chicken stir-fry.
By the time Harvey gets outside, Mike’s abandoned their food on the table and wandered over to the far side of the deck to take in the view. Harvey sets the bottles down and moves Mike’s dish one place over – Mike positioned them across from each other. This way they’ll both face the skyline.
Instead of calling Mike to the table, he joins him. “It’s something, huh?”
Harvey will never get tired of it; the patio and the elevator are what sold him on the place. Mike simply nods his agreement, looking suitably awed.
“Do I even want to know what a view like this costs?”
“Probably not.” Harvey studies Mike’s face, and the longing that’s there. “If you’ve landed at a good firm, you can afford it sooner than you think. This place was my gift to myself when I made Senior Associate. It was a stretch though.”
Harvey expects the way Mike’s head whips around, and the startled look on his face. He watches Mike calculate whether Harvey can be convinced he’s wrong, then discard the idea. “I told you not to – ”
“I’m not asking any questions. But I’ve known you were a lawyer for weeks, and pretending otherwise is starting to get tedious.”
Mike looks poised to rabbit, for some reason, but after a moment of thought, he nods and turns his attention back on the city. “I’ll never have something like this, though.”
Harvey doesn’t comment; when he’d learned that Mike paid for the club himself, it occurred to Harvey he might be in corporate law. Apparently not. Mike’s too sure of his own intelligence to believe he won’t be above average in his field. The club’s fees are high enough to discourage anyone who’s not committed, but they’re not exorbitant. There are a number of practice areas that would allow Mike to afford membership, if he were willing to sacrifice elsewhere. Mike certainly wants this enough.
Harvey touches Mike’s elbow. “Let’s sit – food will get cold.”
They fall into easy conversation over dinner. Harvey steers them clear of kink and makes an effort to even their footing, so Mike can get comfortable.
Not that Mike is uncomfortable. Once he gets over Harvey knowing his occupation, he’s effortless company: quick and confident and well-grounded. He has intelligence that goes beyond book smarts – he’s sharp and it shows, just in casual conversation.
There’s a focus to him that’s tangible. Mike is good-looking in a way that is rather unremarkable, except for his eyes. They’d be nice enough with a lesser mind behind them – clear blue and pretty – but on Mike, they’re riveting. Even as Harvey reads him, he can tell that Mike’s taking in every detail. Judging if Harvey measures up to the man Mike’s gotten to know. Harvey’s not worried about Mike’s conclusions, but it gives him an enormous charge every time Mike tests him.
Harvey has a passing moment of envy that Mike’s not under him professionally, but that would make fucking him problematic, and topping him downright dangerous.
They linger over dinner far longer than Harvey expected. The food is long gone and the light’s getting dim by the time they shift back to the reason Mike’s there.
“So,” Mike finally says during a lull. He tips his head inside, where the dildo awaits. “I guess I know what you’re going to ask me to do.”
Harvey’s mouth curves at the flush creeping into Mike’s face. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to see when you fucked yourself for me last week.”
“You have no idea how badly I wanted a real dick. Wouldn’t you rather…?”
“No,” Harvey says without hesitation. Mike looks crestfallen.
He leaves that on the table for a minute, and can tell just how badly Mike wants to argue, or at least push for a reason. Instead, he says, “Besides, you want me to suck you.”
There’s just enough knowing there to make Harvey smile. Mike seems to take it as affirmation, when in reality, it’s because Harvey knows what he doesn’t: there almost no chance his dick is actually going in Mike’s mouth tonight. “Maybe. If you deserve it.”
Mike looks assured this is Harvey being coy, and Harvey doesn’t dissuade him.
“We’re going to keep this pretty simple – you’re going to give me a show on the coffee table. You’re not allowed to touch your cock, balls or taint without my permission – which you probably won’t get. You’re not allowed to ask for permission. You’re not allowed to speak once we start, unless it’s to safeword, but you don’t have to be silent. I want the audio and the visual this time. When I decide I’m ready, you’ll get the chance to convince me you’re worthy of my cock.”
Mike’s shown increasing interest as Harvey outlines the scene, but that particular sentence hits him harder than the rest – he draws in a shocky breath and his pupils dilate.
“It’s not going in your mouth until I say you can have it. You’re not allowed to use words to convince me. You’re not allowed to use your hands, either. You can use your lips and your tongue and even that pretty face of yours to worship it until I decide you’ve earned more. Anything there you object to?”
Mike shakes his head, apparently non-verbal.
Mike swallows like his mouth’s gone dry and looks away in thought. “Will I get to come tonight?”
Harvey lets himself smile a little. “You’ll get to come before you leave, as long as you keep something in mind.”
Harvey leans forward, propping his arms on the table and looking directly into Mike’s eyes. Mike is so intensely focused, it actually sends a thrill down Harvey’s spine. “This is about me, not you. Everything you do to yourself is for my pleasure, not yours. Don’t forget that for a second.”
There’s a beat where Mike doesn’t even breathe, just holds Harvey’s eyes like he’s been compelled. Unblinking. It’s patently untrue, but Mike’s buy-in is perfect. Just the type of reaction Harvey hoped for. He’s gorgeous.
Mike breaks the moment deliberately, taking a breath and looking away. “Yeah. That uh.” He licks his lip. “I can do that.”
Harvey smirks and stands, picking up his half of the dirty dishes. “Then let’s get started.”
unending thanks to Kate, who encourages and cheerleads and concrits just the way I need it, moreso for this chapter than most. you can thank her for the fact that I'm posting today.
which is a nice segue. hokay - I only have half of the next chapter written. I finally found someone to fuck around with my brain chemistry (yay, sorely needed), but as a result, my brain chemistry is fucked. currently, this means being cranky and unhappy with everything I produce, and you can imagine why that's a crappy frame of mind to be in when I have so narrow a margin.
so I'm going to put this fic on a posting hiatus for a month, to take the pressure off and give me a chance to write ahead - I really, really want to post chapter 11 before I pause it though, because it immediately follows this chapter and it makes more sense to leave things there. I'm going to try to finish that chapter this week, but it just might be a little late on account of Bad Brain.
anyway - *smooch* their first real scene! I hope you guys enjoy
Harvey takes a moment to get the dinner dishes soaking in the sink before guiding Mike to the seating area with a loose grip at the nape of Mike’s neck. Mike’s a little tight, muscles bunched with nerves or excitement, and when Harvey’s thumb sweeps the line of his throat, his breath sticks.
Harvey lets go with a squeeze and presses a kiss in its place, loving the shiver it sends down Mike’s spine. He moves around to face Mike and studies him for a few minutes. Long enough that Mike starts to get restless. It’s utterly silent in the room, the bright light strips away the intimacy of dinner, and they’re standing close. Close enough to kiss, and Harvey knows that Mike’s considering it. Maybe expecting it.
Instead, he reaches for the buttons on Mike’s shirt, managing to slip one free before Mike tries to help. Harvey slaps his fingers away with a “no.”
Mike makes a gesture of surrender but his color goes up, his pupils dilate. His hands fall to his sides and hang there awkwardly, self-consciously, as Harvey pushes the second button free. Harvey keeps his eye contact steady and takes his time with each button, watching Mike grow more and more agitated, though he’s trying to suppress it. He’s studying Harvey’s face but his eyes are restless, jumping from feature to feature, left eye to right and back, mouth, eyes, eyebrow, moles, eyes, mouth, eyes, mouth. Harvey can feel Mike deciding to take matters into his own hands.
Sure enough, after Harvey finishes the last button and pushes the shirt off, Mike gives in to the urge; he telegraphs his intention so clearly, Harvey’s ready as soon as Mike lists forward.
Before Mike can connect with Harvey’s mouth, he gets flicked on the nose.
“Ow.” Mike covers it with his hand and glares; Harvey rolls his eyes, and folds the shirt. “Why did you do that?”
“Apparently ‘no’ wasn’t effective as a deterrent.”
Mike looks a little disgruntled as Harvey sets the dress shirt aside. “You don’t want to kiss?”
“When I want to, I will. Right now, what I want is to get rid of this truly awful clothing.” To be fair, stylistically nothing wrong with his choice. A button-down and jeans would be fine for the occasion, but they’re cheap. “No more talking.”
Mike raises his arms so Harvey can get the undershirt over his head. Once that’s folded, Harvey steps even further into Mike’s space and reaches for the belt and Mike’s fly. He undoes them without looking, close enough to share breath. Mike’s eyes keep flicking down to Harvey’s mouth, impatient, but he learned his lesson. He’s still, head tilted back a little. He still gives the impression of pent-up intention, but he’s being good.
By the time Harvey pushes the jeans off Mike’s hips, he’s smiling at how antsy Mike is. He snaps the waistband of Mike’s boxers, just for the way Mike jumps. Then he pushes those down too.
“Step out,” he says, still just inches from Mike’s face, and Mike steps back, sucking in a little breath when Harvey bends for the clothes. It brings his cheek thisclose to Mike’s cock, which is already half-hard.
He can feel Mike staring at him as he folds the jeans and underwear, and keeps a straight face. His own participation finished for the moment, Harvey strolls to the armchair and settles in.
Clearly distracted by thoughts of murder, Mike misses the lube Harvey tosses him. It sails by and Mike has to fetch it. “You should open yourself up.”
Mike stands a few feet away, lube in hand, staring at Harvey.
“You’re doing an awfully poor impression of someone who wants to come.”
Mike’s face clears abruptly and Harvey smirks. “Where should I…?”
Harvey pretends to consider, then shoves the table back a few feet, pointing directly in front of him. If he’s going to deny himself the opportunity to do this himself, he’s going to have a ringside seat.
When Mike doesn’t immediately move into position, Harvey crooks his finger and Mike flushes.
Harvey promised himself only clinical, impersonal touches, but once Mike’s bent over in front of him, hand braced on the coffee table, that proves…difficult. He buys himself some time by kicking Mike’s feet further apart and watching Mike try to regain his stability.
Then he hooks his hands around Mike’s quads and hauls him back a step. It puts him right up against the armchair, straddling Harvey’s knees, and with his legs sprawled further than shoulder-width, hamstrings quivering; it’s too appealing a display to ignore. He runs his hand up the outside of Mike’s thigh, and Mike jumps a little, a startled – then strangled – sound in his throat.
Harvey puts his other hand on Mike to stroke in mirror image, careful to keep the touch nonsexual…like calming a skittish horse. The metaphor’s not far off – Mike jerks and wheels around when Harvey says, “What are you waiting for?”
Mike breathes like he wants to speak, but doesn’t, and instead of repeating himself, Harvey grips his ass cheeks, spreading Mike with his thumbs.
His asshole is pink and clenches a little in response to the exposure. Harvey’d love to eat Mike out, just…rim him until Mike begged to be fucked, but that’s not on the menu today. Mike slicks his fingers up, and reaches back to smear lube around his hole.
The coffee table is a bit too far now to stabilize him properly, so half his attention’s on his balance. It doesn’t take long before he’s pushing a finger inside, but in the interim, he makes a mess, matting down the fine hair in the area. Mike’s not a hairy guy, and Harvey bets he’s never considered waxing, but Harvey’s considering it for him – how gorgeous he’d look smooth. How horrified he’d be at the suggestion, how embarrassed to show up at the appointment – and how he’d do it anyway, if Harvey made him.
Something to think about, for later.
Eventually, Mike gives up on the table and braces one hand on the floor instead. Apparently, flexibility won’t be an issue. Keeping his balance is taking away from the task at hand, however, so Harvey shifts his hold to Mike’s hips. “I’ll keep you up, but you have to hold yourself open.” Mike hesitates, and Harvey slaps his hip lightly. “Take your hand off the ground; now pull yourself open. There you go.”
There’s an instinctive distrust in the way Mike is holding himself – stiff, tensed to catch himself if he starts to fall, but Harvey holds him steady and keeps his voice even and patient. “Mike, I’m not going to let you fall. Keep going.”
Mike’s fingers start working again, and slowly, fractionally, he relaxes. His body sways a little as he gives his weight over to Harvey, but Harvey keeps him stable and he feels the moment Mike start to trust it.
“Good boy. Get another finger in there; I’m not going to wait forever.”
Mike’s face is getting pink – it’s partly gravity, but Harvey thinks he flushes a little darker at the words. He withdraws, pushes two fingers inside, and starts to work himself at a more satisfying pace, twisting them a little and fucking himself.
Unable to resist, Harvey leans in and bites his ass cheek. Mike pulls his fingers free and breathes, “I’m ready.”
He tries to stand, but Harvey keeps a firm grip and holds him in place. “No talking.” Mike freezes immediately. Harvey’s not surprised at the slip – Mike may remember every word that he says, but he’s terrible at actually keeping things in mind. Harvey anticipated mistakes – anticipated Mike giving him legitimate excuse to deny him later, built it into the evening because it was nearly inevitable. “Are you actually open enough to take it? I’m going to be angry if you hurt yourself because you choose not to be patient.”
There’s a hesitation as Mike seems torn between answering or keeping his silence; after a moment, he acquiesces, bending back into position and playing with his hole. It’s the right choice, and Harvey strokes his thumb over Mike’s hipbone. Mike responds to the small movement with a sensitive, whole-body jerk.
“Relax,” Harvey murmurs. Mike makes a noticeable effort to do just that. Then he starts working a third finger in his ass. “Get some more lube.”
Mike slows down and does a more thorough job after that, and whatever Harvey said about not waiting, he lets Mike take his time. He clearly wants to get things right, and that’s pleasing. By the time Mike pulls his fingers free again, his hole is stretched enough to gape around nothing.
Harvey spares a second to think about fingering it, fucking it, before he shakes it off.
He gives Mike’s hip a nudge. “You can straighten up now.” Harvey gets to his own feet, prepared for the way Mike sways at coming upright. He keeps Mike steady through the rush. “You okay now?”
Mike nods. Harvey gives his shoulder a squeeze and then crosses Mike’s wrists in the small of his back, holds them there with one hand as he steps around. He’s still mourning, just a little, for the neck-to-wrist restraints he’d originally intended to use.
Mike’s forearms flex and Harvey tightens his grip. With Harvey’s arm wrapped around Mike’s back, Harvey’s clothes are ghosting against Mike’s skin. Harvey hooks his index finger under Mike’s jaw and forces it up, tilting Mike’s head back just because he can – they’re of a height, and Mike has to strain his gaze downward to maintain eye contact from this angle. It must be uncomfortable, but he likes it. Likes being fucked with, even bullied just a little. Color still high from the inversion, eyes dark, face slack, he’s positively fuckable. He swallows thickly under Harvey’s attention, Adam’s apple slowly bobbing.
“Ready to do this?” Harvey says quietly. Mike’s chin jerks in an attempt to answer, and Harvey forces him to crane back even more. “Ready to show me how you love to ride a cock? You can answer this time.”
“Yes, sir,” Mike says. His voice is strained from the angle of his throat. His neck is probably starting to hurt; Harvey eases off and lets him come upright.
“Alright,” Harvey tells him, “Climb on. Put the tip in your hole. Just the tip. Then freeze.”
An expression flicks over Mike’s face, almost too quick to catch – some combination of arousal, shame and utterly misplaced mulishness. But when Harvey lets him go, he moves toward the coffee table.
Harvey turns away, ignoring Mike entirely as he heads for the wet bar. He takes his time selecting scotch and pouring a few fingers; by the time he turns around, Mike’s on his knees, perched awkwardly on the tip of the dildo.
Harvey takes a sip and strolls back over. Mike’s been like this just long enough that his thighs are beginning to tremble – which wouldn’t have taken long, even for a regular cyclist. It’s an extremely awkward position to hold. Rather than relieve Mike of his discomfort, Harvey takes a slow lap around the table, surveying him from all angles. Mike holds himself as still as he possibly can, and when Harvey is standing in front of him once again, he sees that Mike is making an effort to be patient. His eyes are closed and his face is relaxed. He’s taking measured, even breaths.
Harvey bends forward, holds Mike’s chin, and gives him that kiss he wanted, for being such a good boy. Mike’s eyes fly open. It’s perversely chaste, and Harvey’s pleased when Mike takes the order to freeze quite literally – not even moving enough kiss back. He gives him another, slightly longer, in reward, then retreats to his chair.
He drags it forward so that his shins almost touch the glass top when he’s settled in, and takes a moment to appreciate the way Mike’s licking the taste of him off his lips.
When Harvey’s finally good and ready, he says, “Now you can sit down.”
Immediately Mike lets his weight sink, releasing a heavy breath as he fills himself up. When he’s taken all but the last inch or so, his hips flex on instinct and his head falls back a little, eyes fluttering prettily. The little moans falling from his mouth as he shifts around on the cock are nearly subvocal.
Fuck. Harvey makes room for his cock in his slacks. “Eyes on me,” he says after a moment, and Mike snaps to attention. “Keep your eyes on my face until I say otherwise.”
Mike licks his lip and nods, but as he braces his hand between his knees and starts fucking himself with shallow strokes, he struggles with the order almost immediately. His eyelids go half-mast and want to fall closed; he’s looking in the direction of Harvey’s face but not seeing it. It’s so goddamn hot, Harvey has trouble caring if he even succumbs to it, but Mike catches himself and once again proves how good he wants to be, digging his teeth into his bottom lip and forcing himself to focus.
Harvey lets the depth of his approval show on his face.
After that, it becomes a little more of a show, though clearly one Mike finds as enjoyable to put on as Harvey finds it to watch. Mike likes to change it up – plant it deep and circle his hips, rise up halfway and rock back to front, then lean forward, spine rolling like water to torque the dildo in and out. He gets his feet underneath him sometimes and braces back, nailing his prostate and making these wanting, begging sounds that drive Harvey out of his mind. He likes to fuck himself upright, hard and deep until the tabletop trembles on its frame, but the unyielding surface makes the rebound unsustainable; he simply returns to it again and again, mixing it with showier moves, clearly favoring the cored-open feeling when he can get it.
Harvey strokes the line of his cock through his slacks, wetting the fabric from the inside. He’s not wearing underwear. Harvey’s gonna fuck him stupid one of these days; the knowledge makes him throb. Mike’s eyes flick down to his tented pants, hummingbird-quick, once or twice, with an instinctive greed Harvey finds charming. He always catches himself, trying so hard to keep his eyes on Harvey’s face.
Harvey, naturally, isn’t obeying the same rule; it’s only partly about denying Mike the right to look at Harvey’s body. It’s also about making Mike watch while Harvey appreciates Mike. He knows what he looks like right now. His erection’s probably obvious even when Mike keeps his eyes where they should be; he’s burning up and sex stupid, because his sub’s apparently a porn star. Harvey tries to keep some semblance of neutrality on his face, but Mike knows just what he’s doing.
“You like showing off?” Harvey says. It’s so rhetorical that Mike doesn’t even nod, just flashes a bright grin and gives his body a rolling stretch. It’s both bratty and completely within the rules; Harvey loves it.
Mike’s flushed red and coated in sweat by the time Harvey unzips his fly. As soon as he pulls his cock out, Mike’s eyes are glued there, good intentions be damned. It’s both amusing and so sexy it’s painful, how badly Mike wants to look at him – Harvey can’t tell if he’s genuinely forgotten the rule, or remembers and just doesn’t care. Harvey strokes himself and Mike’s tongue swipes out over his lip.
“Eyes,” Harvey says eventually, and Mike’s snap back to his before dropping again with a lingering look. Mike’s fallen still and Harvey’s tempted to move on with things, but Mike’s not leading the show. “And when did I say you could stop moving?”
Mike stares at him for two beats, more defiant than he’s been since they started, then braces a hand behind him and leans back, fucking himself at a few angles before he finds his favorite – a short, shallow stroke that hits his prostate. He’s not even pretending to follow the rule for eye contact now, and Harvey doesn’t bother to correct him. He’ll reap the consequences soon enough.
For now, he lets Mike watch as Harvey syncs up their movements, stroking the head of his cock in time with Mike, smearing pre-come around at the noise Mike is making – they become dangerously close to words as he rides the dildo faster. Mike’s cock has been half-hard all this time from the stretch, but between the stimulation and how excited he is, it’s stiffening again. Harvey can tell how badly he wants to touch himself, but in this, he sticks to the rules.
That’s worth something, he supposes – and Jesus, he wants Mike on his knees already.
Harvey stands, fully dressed with his cock in his hand. “Come kneel right here.” The words are barely out of his mouth before Mike’s scrambling to follow them, falling to his knees with a force that has to hurt even through the area rug.
Harvey uses a finger in the middle of Mike’s forehead to hold him back from making contact with his cock. “Tell me what the rules are, first.”
Mike looks up. “It’s not going in my mouth until you say I can have it. I’m not allowed to use words to convince you, or my hands. I can use my lips and tongue, even my face. I can’t suck it til you say.”
The intensity on Mike’s face is fucking physically painful, considering Harvey knows he’s already lost the chance at that. ‘This hurts me more than you’ is taking on new meaning. “Right. Clasp your hands together behind your back.”
Once Mike’s done it, Harvey drags his hand through Mike’s hair and draws him forward. Mike’s on his best behavior again – naturally – and stares up at Harvey, face so close to Harvey’s cock that he can feel every breath. It’s both pleasing and infuriating. “Go on.”
Immediately, Mike’s eyes fall away as he buries his face against the shaft and breathes – practically huffing it, lips parted. He noses his way towards where it exits the fly and Harvey lets go of his hold at the base, resting his hand on Mike’s shoulder. When Mike pushes his way inside the fly and catches the muskiest scent, he moans.
Harvey closes his eyes and scratches his fingers against Mike’s scalp, reminding himself that he asked for this.
Because Mike seems to want access, Harvey slides his slacks further down his hips and brings his balls out of confinement, staring down as Mike carries on his show with so much unabashed appreciation, it’s tempting to just give up now and let Mike suck his cock.
When Mike’s eyes flash up to his, they look smug and Harvey can’t even fault him for that – he smiles in spite of himself. “You little shit.”
That gets him another grin, and Harvey takes as firm a grip on Mike’s hair as he can manage, yanking his head back. “You’re supposed to be begging, not teasing. Apologize.”
“Sorry,” Mike says, and he clearly knows he’s playing with fire by not sounding sorry at all.
On impulse, Harvey tightens his hold on Mike’s hair and smacks him on the cheek. With his dick.
Mike’s whole body jerks, expression shocked and pupils blown. “Did you just…?”
Harvey smacks him again – it probably stings Harvey’s dick more than Mike’s face, and it’s certainly no kind of deterrent, but it abruptly flips Mike back into submission. He looks almost drugged, and when Harvey says, “Did I give you permission to speak?” he just shakes his head dumbly. “Apologize like you mean it this time.”
“I’m sorry, Harvey.”
“For teasing when I shouldn’t.”
“For teasing when you shouldn’t….”
“For teasing when I shouldn’t, sir.”
“Good boy,” Harvey says quietly. “Now get back to work.”
Mike gives Harvey’s cock a strange look, then seeks Harvey’s face out – he looks on the verge of saying something before remembering that he shouldn’t. He looks down again, expression wary and turned on and conflicted, and Harvey realizes what’s happening – he wants to know if he’ll get smacked again. From the look of things, he’s not sure if he wants to avoid it or encourage it.
“Be good,” Harvey says, which is a promise one way or the other, and Mike leans in and rubs his cheek against Harvey’s cock and kisses the tip.
Mike is so good from that moment on, doing everything he should and absolutely nothing that he shouldn’t. It just confirms for Harvey that Mike can do this when motivated. He hates being right when it costs him a blowjob.
“Mike, do you deserve to suck my cock tonight?”
Mike hesitates like he knows what the real answer is before he says, “Yes.”
“Tell me why you think that. And I didn’t tell you your job was finished – do both.”
Mike nuzzles his cock for a while before he says, “I tried to follow all the rules. I did my best.”
“Did you?” Harvey asks, and Mike licks his way up Harvey’s shaft, looking vaguely guilty. “You’re done. Sit up.” With some effort, Harvey tucks his cock away. “Tell me all the rules you broke tonight. Leave a single instance out and you won’t get to come after all.”
Mike wants to argue, but wisely chooses not to, sitting back on his heels. “You told me 'no' when I tried to move, but then I did just a couple minutes later. I said 'I'm ready' after you told me not to talk, and I...didn't keep my eyes on your face after you said to – ”
“How many times, exactly, did you fail to keep your eyes on my face?” Harvey cuts in, because they're not just brushing past that as one offense.
“Five if we count 'stopped even trying' towards the end as one. If we count each minute of that as separate, it's more like fifteen. Keep going.”
“When I teased you, I wasn't doing what you'd asked me to do. I was sarcastic when I apologized. I spoke without permission again after that, and I….” Mike hesitates. Harvey waits him out. “I lied. When I said I deserved it, and that I’d tried my best.”
Harvey nods and sits down on the couch. That matches his count of the actual rules that had been broken. There had been more that they’d be adding explicit rules to cover, like Mike doing what he’s told the first time and not being late. “So, that’s eleven total if we go with the conservative number. How many of those were deliberate choices to disobey me?”
“Which means….” It’s not at all about making sure Mike knows it – the look on his face is telling enough. It’s making him say it that’s important.
“I don’t deserve to suck your cock tonight.”
“No, you don’t.”
Harvey settles back, snaps his fingers and points between his feet, watching silently as Mike shuffles quickly over. Harvey hooks his arm over the sofa back and considers him. Mike is antsy but makes the effort to be still, eyes fixed on Harvey’s face.
Somehow, despite that, Harvey has the distinct impression Mike’s focused on Harvey’s dick. More precisely, the fact that he put it away.
“How do you want to come?” Harvey asks after a long stretch, and Mike’s eyes go wide. It’s the last thing he’d probably expected. “You earned it.”
“But I – ”
“Mike,” Harvey warns, and Mike’s mouth shuts so hard it clacks. “Asking a question isn’t permission to say anything you like. That’s a rule. Acknowledge it.”
“I said you’d get to come tonight. The only time I threatened to revoke it, you met the conditions. You earned it. Now how would you like to come?”
Mike stays silent, jaw clenched.
“Another rule: when I give you an order, you obey it promptly. And to be clear, my questions are just orders to give me information. So. I’m not repeating the question because you know what it is. Answer now.”
“You don’t, what?”
“I don’t want to come, sir.”
“That’s not up to you.” Harvey’s not amused – although this conversation’s absurd – and he lets Mike feel that. “Who’s in charge here? You’d better answer correctly, and you’d better sound like you mean it.”
Mike deflates a little under Harvey’s tone. Still looks stubborn, though. “You are.”
“Damn right I am. Now tell me how you’re going to come, then I’ll listen to why you don’t want to.” Harvey has his suspicions.
Mike’s quiet for a minute, but not so long that Harvey thinks he’s refusing to answer. “I’ll just use my hand. But I don’t have to. I’d rather make things up to you.”
Harvey pretends to be obtuse. “Make them up to me how?”
“By giving you what you want.”
“What I want is for you to come,” Harvey lies. “And stop bargaining.”
Mike’s on the verge of saying, ‘I’m not bargaining,’ but stops just in time. He clenches his jaw before he starts again. “I’m sorry. I was bargaining.”
“You were. And the fact that you were just confirms for me what excellent punishment I’ve chosen. Now this conversation’s finished.” Partly because arguing himself out of an orgasm and Mike into one is a ridiculous position to be in. With any other sub, he’d accept the sacrifice and peace offering. Any other sub would be offering it from the right place. Mike’s just trying to manipulate him – not maliciously, not even all that consciously. Just fighting for control. “Get yourself off for me. You can talk, you can touch me, just not sexually. Look where you want. I’ll follow your lead.”
Mike’s cock is soft from the protracted argument, but Mike takes it in hand before inching a little closer. What he wants is to lay his head on Harvey’s knee, apparently, and his eyes drift closed for a second when Harvey strokes his hair. It’s such an abrupt shift in mood – actually tangible, the way Mike buckles for Harvey. Harvey suspects the choice has much to do with reassurance before Mike ever opens his mouth.
“Are you mad at me?” He’s looking up at Harvey like he’ll take what he gets. Harvey brushes his knuckles over Mike’s cheek. He could get dizzy off this kid’s contradictions.
“Not mad. Frustrated. Disappointed.”
“I know. You’re a good boy.”
“I’m not,” Mike says, barely even sad. Like it’s an ugly fact.
Truthfully, Harvey’s working off his gut at this point. They’ve only known each other two weeks, for a given value of ‘know.’ But his gut is pretty good. “You are if I say you are.”
Mike closes his eyes and Harvey strokes his brow and it’s oddly peaceful.
“Are you hard yet?” he asks a few minutes later. Mike’s too close in for Harvey to see for himself.
Mike nods, and turns his head so he can bite Harvey just above the knee.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I was worried,” Harvey says dryly. When Mike goes to bite him again, he thumps his nose. “You’re stressing the fabric. Open,” Harvey orders, because he clearly needs something to put in his mouth. As soon as Harvey supplies two fingers, Mike’s eyes slide shut and his cheeks hollow.
Harvey watches, captivated, as Mike fellates his fingers – fascinated, specifically, with how completely engaged and in his own head Mike is. His breathing has picked up a little, and the sound of his hand on his cock is quick and audible.
“I’ve never been particularly fond of saying ‘cocksucker,’” he admits, sounding as turned on as he feels, “but you are one, aren’t you?”
Mike nods vigorously, sucking harder and massaging the underside of Harvey’s fingers with his tongue.
“Is that what you’re thinking about?”
The answer’s obvious enough, but it’s worth the asking for the way Mike moans his sound of agreement.
“Need a visual?” Harvey’s already reaching to free himself again with his other hand when Mike makes a pleading sound around his fingers. Mike’s eyes drift open, blurry-focused on Harvey’s cock. It’s mostly hard and Mike takes Harvey’s fingers in as far as he can while Harvey fondles it, sucking on them hungrily.
Mike may be drooling all over his left hand, but his right’s painfully dry, so he pulls his fingers free of Mike’s mouth and presents his palm. “Lick.”
Mike throws himself into it, bathing Harvey’s palm and all his fingers and the little crease where they meet his thumb, using the drool he built up to coat Harvey’s hand. And the whole time, getting closer to orgasm, panting into Harvey’s hand, stroking himself faster and thrusting his hips.
Harvey takes his hand back and wraps it around his cock. He gives Mike three fingers from his left hand and lets him watch. Mike works himself to a fever pitch and Harvey can tell how close he’s getting – racing to catch up himself.
“You wanna suck it?” Harvey asks, and Mike looks startled for a second, hopeful. “Tell me,” Harvey clarifies.
“I really do. So bad. You’d love it.”
Mike gasps, eyes going distant. “You’d make my jaw hurt, but I bet I could suck you for a…really long time. Your cock’s the perfect size.”
Jesus. “Be good and I’ll let you.”
“I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good….” Harvey watches Mike shake apart, face drawn and gasping, until he’s limp in Harvey’s lap. A sweaty mess. A sweet mess, nudging his way into Harvey’s free hand and watching with a sleepy smile as Harvey jacks off.
He doesn’t need much more than that, and the promise of what Mike will do once off the leash, to get himself close.
“You want my come?”
Mike doesn’t even nod, just opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and yeah okay, most of it doesn’t actually land there because it’s not precision shooting but seeing how much Mike wants it is beautiful on its own.
Harvey gives himself a few minutes to breathe, and then says, “C’mere,” welcoming Mike up onto his lap and drawing him into their first real kiss. Mike lets Harvey lead – more frame of mind than habit, Harvey thinks. He’s good at the lazy give-and-take of the moment.
Harvey pulls back sooner than he’d like, and Mike makes a sound of complaint. “More later.” He strokes a hand through Mike’s hair – it’s stiff with sweat, and in one unfortunate spot, Harvey’s come. “I want you to stay and spend time with me but go get cleaned up and comfortable first, okay?” Mike nods. “Use the master bathroom, through there, and when you’re done, get something to wear out of the bottom dresser drawer.”
Mike nods again, but looks pretty muzzy. “Can you stand?”
Harvey gets an eyeroll for his concern and Mike pushes to his feet, making a ‘ta-da’ gesture. Harvey swivels him towards the bedroom by the hips and smacks his ass, and Mike laughs, padding out of the room.
Harvey looks at the clock, which barely reads ten – it’s like time with Mike goes in dog years. For all Mike’s rebellion, Harvey’s satisfied with the way things went. Mike was never going to be easy, but Harvey thinks he got his point across.
basically I will always and forever be pretending that Harvey’s couch is more comfortable than anything he seems to own in reality. The strap used in this chapter is something like the “middle brother” here. As always, please tell me if my research is off
ETA (1/29/2015): in preparation for posting new chapters soonish, I'm revising Chapter 11 - I got a few points of concrit that some of the aftercare in this chapter wasn't really necessary, and after considering it, decided I agreed. However, a few people commented that they specifically liked the stuff I was cutting out, so I've preserved the chapter as it originally stood over at my lj - for those of you who prefer the original version, you can read it here
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Harvey takes the time Mike’s in the shower – and there’s plenty, the kid’s apparently a hot water hog – to clean up and gather some things for aftercare. There isn’t a lot to be done, just wash the dildo and clean the coffee table (sweaty knee and handprints not something he’s going to subject housekeeping to, thank you); put a topical numbing cream at hand for Mike’s knees, gather up some throw pillows and blankets, a couple bottles of water, the entertainment center remote.
He changes into house pants and a t-shirt. His clothes are comfortable enough, but he sweated through them a little (and jizzed on the pants), and it’s better to put himself back on even footing with Mike anyway.
When Mike emerges from Harvey’s bedroom, scrubbed clean and bundled in old NYU sweats, Harvey tucks him into the corner of the sofa with the pillows and pulls his legs across his lap. He dragged the coffee table close enough that he can prop his own bare feet up.
He hands over the remote. “Pick a movie.”
Between his digital collection and pay-per-view, they have access to just about every movie imaginable; Mike picks Die Hard. Harvey smiles to himself and snakes his hand up the leg of the sweatpants Mike’s wearing.
“How are your knees?” Harvey rubs the one at hand. Mike was on them for a long time – on the glass and on hardwood; even the area rug’s not thick enough to provide much comfort.
“Not too bad.” He’ll probably feel differently tomorrow.
Harvey pushes the fabric out of the way and massages cream into Mike’s skin, working the joint a little and continuing up Mike’s leg – his thighs did a lot of work tonight and that is not the fun kind of pain. Mike watches Harvey instead of Bruce Willis – wiggles himself down the sofa, nearly horizontal as Harvey drags his pants leg back down and starts on the other knee.
He has to get up to wash his hands after that because they reek like peppermint, and when he returns, Mike has helped himself to the entire length of the couch. Harvey responds to his smug face by climbing over him and forcing him to the front of the cushions so he can make himself comfortable.
“Drink,” he says before they get too settled in. After they’ve both drained about half a bottle of water, Harvey pulls a blanket over them and rearranges Mike until they’re spooned facing the tv. “You good?”
“Mmhmm. Do you always cuddle on the first date?”
Harvey smiles, and flicks Mike ear, laughing when Mike swears and gives him a dirty look.
They both watch the movie for a while, but it isn’t long before the curve of Mike’s neck becomes pretty tempting, and only a few minutes of indulging himself before Mike turns towards him and they start to kiss. Harvey keeps it reigned in to a light makeout session; Mike’s practically purring, he’s so pleased with the affection. The rest of the film is nothing more than background noise, though Mike does pull away at the appropriate time to murmur “Yippee-ki-yay,” like he can’t help himself.
“What are your plans tomorrow?” Harvey asks after the movie’s gone dead. Mike’s eyes are heavy.
“Didn’t make any. I could always work, but I thought if you….”
Harvey truly hadn’t planned on letting this spill into a second day – his intention, at most, had been to make breakfast in the morning before sending Mike on his way. But now that he’s got him here, he’s greedy…and he’d rather send Mike away feeling successful. If they scene again tomorrow, Mike will be more obedient, he knows it. Wait a week and they’ll nearly start from scratch.
Harvey massages the base of Mike’s skull. “What do you want to do?”
“Make tonight up to you.”
Harvey presses a soft kiss to his mouth. “There’s nothing to make up. You did very well.”
“Not well enough.” There’s a bit of a sulk there that Harvey won’t indulge.
“Do you want me to start going easy on you? Giving you more slack?”
“No,” Harvey agrees. “You don’t. But you’ve already been punished for tonight. Be better for me because you want to be, not to make up for something you’ve already paid for.”
“I want to be good for you tomorrow.”
Harvey kisses his forehead. “Then you will be. Time for bed.”
Mike’s confused for a moment when Harvey walks him to the guest room, which he’d made up just in case. He’s clearly not happy about ‘bed’ being separate, but he doesn’t argue, which earns him a kiss, and the promise it’s not further punishment.
It’s more about Harvey. No way he wakes up early on a Sunday morning with a tempting body in his bed and doesn’t blow a winning tactic all to hell by indulging himself.
Harvey wakes up before Mike in the morning – unsurprising – goes for a jog and comes home to find the apartment still dead quiet. He grabs a shower, throws a record on the player at low volume and starts to make breakfast.
Like Lazarus rising from the dead, it’s the coffee that finally brings Mike stumbling out of the guest room, making sleepy delighted noises at the omelette Harvey’s plating up and sliding in front of his face. They eat at the island because Mike’s not awake enough to go further, though about halfway through breakfast, he seems to come alive.
“This is really good.”
He gets side-eyed for his confidence, and they lapse back into silence.
Harvey clears the dishes to the sink when they’re done and pours them both a second cup of coffee, leaning against the counter opposite Mike.
“I want to give you a second chance with no restrictions – you’ll be able to do whatever you want, for as long as you want. But you still have to earn it first.”
“I’ll do it.”
The blanket agreement goes to Harvey’s cock, but he gives Mike a look. “Don’t agree before you know what you’re agreeing to.”
Mike doesn’t say anything; he just looks at him, on point, until Harvey continues. “I want you to take a strapping for me. I’ll show you the strap – the one I have in mind will do well for your first time, but I want to beat your ass red. And if you take it like a good boy, then I’ll let you suck my cock with free reign.”
Mike looks as excited by the proposition of the beating as he is by the blowjob, which is why Harvey chose it. He also thinks they need to play harder ball to get Mike in the right frame of mind – at least until he’s trained enough to get himself there by self-control.
That was Harvey’s error last night; he tried to start at the shallow end. That would’ve been prudent for most new subs – taking their autonomy away by increments, scene by scene, pushing them further each time, but not Mike. Mike thinks too much, fights too hard, and responds so very beautifully to being smacked back down. Mike needs to be thrown in deep and made to drown a little until he stops feeling the instinct to hold himself up.
Harvey spent his run revising Mike’s training plan, but it comes with an additional complication. They can’t really proceed the way he’d like until there’s a commitment. And Harvey’s already stomped on Gina’s boundaries hard enough. It’s better in the long run – not just for their friendship, but for Mike – if Gina helps Mike figure out what he wants from an exclusive contract.
It leaves today in a murky middle ground, but he feels good about the compromise he’s wrought.
Mike certainly welcomes today’s plan. “Okay. Yes. Yes, please.”
Harvey nods. “Go brush your teeth and strip down. I’ll meet you back here.”
Mike abandons his cup of coffee completely as he does what he’s told, but Harvey takes a few minutes to finish before fetching the strap. Mike’s standing in the kitchen, half-hard and nervous, when Harvey returns and shows it to him, striking his own palm a few times to show Mike what to expect.
It’s far from Harvey’s heaviest instrument, but also far from his lightest. It is one of his favorites – a heavy enough play instrument for a sub who enjoys pain, a light enough punishment for a sub that does not. The harness leather’s broken in and flexible, but the single thickness of the strap is no joke.
Mike’s practically drooling. Harvey hands it over and lets him explore it for a few minutes; he gives himself a test slap on his thigh before Harvey knows he means to, and the angle and force is bad – he winces and looks up at Harvey.
“This one takes a careful hand – here.” Mike hands it back over and Harvey gives him a proper test blow on the other leg; Mike relaxes. “Okay?”
“Yeah.” Harvey holds eye contact. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. This is play, not punishment, so no counting, no set number of strokes, I’m just going to go until I think you’re done. Unless you safeword. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes, sir.” Mike’s breathing is elevated, his pupils are big, and it’s probably a 50/50 split between nerves and excitement. Harvey crooks a finger to reel him closer and gives him a kiss, resting his hand at the base of Mike’s neck.
“You’re allowed to make noise, but you’re not allowed to speak. That won’t always be a rule, but it will be for now. You know why?”
“I get myself in trouble.”
“You get yourself in trouble,” Harvey confirms. “Other than that, all I need you to do is stay relaxed and take it. Can you do that?”
Mike’s cheeks are flushed, and Harvey doesn’t hold it against him when he simply nods instead of answering. He’s so turned on that it’s turning Harvey on, and they haven’t even started yet.
Unlike Mike’s, Harvey’s sofa is the optimum height for bending someone over, so they use it. He takes his time positioning Mike, bending him ninety degrees until his head and shoulders rest there – he doesn’t care what Mike does with his arms, but he’s not allowed to hide his face in them completely. His legs are planted just inside of shoulder-width, and Harvey stands to the side and draws one finger up Mike’s spine. It’s too tense. “Relax this.”
He waits until Mike loosens up, back forming a more natural S-curve, before he warns, “I’ll start with my hand,” and gives a swift sharp smack. By the second strike, Mike’s tightened up again, and Harvey reminds him without words, stroking his spine. Mike makes an effort to loosen up, relaxing far more when Harvey says, “Good boy,” full of approval.
He continues to struggle with being relaxed through the hand spanking, but it’s instinct, and a trust he hasn’t practiced yet; Harvey doesn’t scold him. Outside of the first time, Mike makes the effort without reminder, and Harvey doesn’t have to say anything until he pauses to switch to the strap.
Immediately, Mike’s back is knotted. “Relax,” Harvey says again, putting a hand on Mike’s head and soothing his scalp. After a moment, he decides anticipation’s half the problem, and lands a light blow – much lighter than Mike’s expecting, but not light enough to draw attention to the fact that he’s pulled it. Mike jolts with it, but not with the second, and by the third and the fourth, he’s relaxing, finally. “That’s good, Mike. Just like that.”
Now that Mike’s calmer, Harvey moves down his body a little, laying his hand in the small of Mike’s back as he begins to really work. Mike’s skin was flushed from the manual spanking already but it responds so goddamn beautifully to the strap, stripe after stripe as Harvey builds up to maybe 80% of what this instrument can do.
He levels off there – it’s a sweet spot for Mike. The choppy exhales that came with every blow have given way to moaning. His cock’s drooling precome on Harvey’s floor and he’s got a handful of upholstery in each fist; his spine’s finally lax except for the occasional, desperate flex of his hips, and as the beating continues, he gets so turned on he actually sinks his teeth into the cushion.
“You’re being such a good boy; I want you to get off like this.” The sound Mike makes is gratitude and pleading, and he doesn’t even think about reaching for his cock until Harvey says he can.
He sobs out a breath as soon as he gets his hand around it and jacks himself off furiously while Harvey hits him – by this point, there’s no part of Mike’s ass that hasn’t been well worked over, and each strike makes Mike cry out in pain; it’s no time at all before he’s jizzing on Harvey’s floor.
Harvey stops as soon as Mike’s spent, leaning himself against the couch back and pulling Mike upright into his arms. Mike burrows into his neck as Harvey takes his weight; he’s panting and probably light-headed from what looked like an intense orgasm.
“You were perfect. You took that so well,” Harvey murmurs, rubbing Mike’s back as Mike starts to come down. For all intents and purposes, everything from here’s aftercare, but it’s a very blurry line.
Harvey gives Mike all the time he needs to get his feet back underneath him, but Mike doesn’t move away. The way he shifts against Harvey seems innocent enough, like comfort-seeking, until you account for the brush of his lips against Harvey’s throat, and the way his hand finds Harvey’s cock through his sweats.
Harvey cups the base of Mike’s neck and squeezes. “Where should we go – bed? That might be easiest on your knees.”
Mike shakes his head, still tucked against Harvey’s shoulder. “My knees are okay. I can be on them.”
“Whatever you want.” Harvey forces Mike’s chin up so he can look at him. “Is that what you want?”
Mike still looks muzzy and high, but he nods, sure of himself.
“What else do you want?”
Mike licks his bottom lip, eyes flicking away from Harvey’s face before returning. He’s softer, right now. Even a little shy. “I want you to ignore me. Watch tv or read while I suck you. And then eventually…fuck my face.”
A lot more likely to keep Mike in subspace than the straightforward blowjob Harvey anticipated, but Mike looks vulnerable and hopeful and like everything Harvey wants, so Harvey says, “I’d love that,” and gives him a soft kiss.
Harvey sends Mike to kneel by the sofa as he brews himself a new cup of coffee – half-caf, and mostly as a prop to assist with the illusion of detachment that Mike wants – and doesn't spare Mike a glance while he settles himself on the sofa. He does, however, throw a pillow at his feet before Mike finishes shuffling over.
Someday, the kid’s going to realize his knees won’t be young forever. There are mornings Harvey wishes someone had warned him of that.
Harvey’s careful not to look as Mike settles between his legs, focused instead on flipping channels on the tv. He has a small kernel of concern that Mike’s request to be ignored will backfire in the wake of his first beating, though, so he spares Mike a glance when Mike doesn’t reach for him right away.
Mike’s face is clear – if anything, eager; his lips part a little when Harvey loosens the drawstring of his sweatpants and hooks the waist under his balls, exposing his mostly-soft cock. Mike darts a look up and catches his eyes, and Harvey holds the look for three deliberate seconds before turning his attention to the tv.
Or, appearing to. Harvey’s doing his best impression of being absorbed in the Sunday-morning programming – some kind of political round-table – but his focus is wholly on Mike.
Mike, whose throat and tongue are working while he stares at Harvey’s cock, hands kneading Harvey’s thighs…he looks sex-dazed and horny, and just that look is enough to get Harvey’s cock to fill. Then finally, Mike raises himself up and leans forward.
There’s no teasing – they had enough of that the night before, and this time Mike sucks Harvey in immediately, drawing him inside, further and further, until the tip’s against the back of Mike’s throat. His mouth’s thick with saliva, and Harvey realizes that’s what he was doing in the delay: Mike was making his mouth water so he’d be wet for Harvey’s cock.
Harvey breathes. He doesn’t moan or move or clutch in response the wet sound of Mike’s throat working against him, but he does let himself look. Mike won’t notice: head angled down, eyes closed, all his focus on nursing Harvey’s erection to fullness, and it’s working. Mike’s hands are resting softly on his hipbones, and the rhythmic suction he’s creating only breaks once Harvey’s hard enough that Mike can push farther forward, choking around the head of his dick and drooling copiously down the shaft. Then he draws back and milks with his mouth…pushes forward and chokes, drools, drools, drools. Three bobs in slow motion, until Harvey’s stiff and so slick.
Mike pulls off like coming up for air after a deep dive, and Harvey’s quick to turn his eyes to the tv before Mike can see. Then Mike’s eyes are on him, watching intently, so Harvey reaches out for his coffee, takes a sip, and turns the volume up. He doesn’t react as Mike wraps his hand around Harvey’s cock and pumps it, gliding fast and smooth on the absurd amount of spit he left behind.
When Harvey doesn’t so much as acknowledge Mike’s attention, Mike moans softly and buries his face in Harvey’s groin, so pleased he melts into hedonism, nuzzling the base of Harvey’s cock while he strokes it. It shores up Harvey’s resolve – his personal preference would be to watch Mike’s every move and talk him through it, but his mind settles into place at Mike’s desperate gratitude, and he feels the role Mike wants him to play saturate his bones.
It requires no effort, after that, to pretend indifference while Mike worships him – it’s still a façade, but it’s easy to put on. After Mike has gotten his fill of breathing Harvey’s scent and mouthing at his balls, he pushes himself up and runs his tongue over Harvey’s cock, bathing his shaft with the flat of his tongue and then running it all over the head, swiping the soft underside of the muscle over the crown. Harvey stares at the screen and drinks his coffee; it feels right to let his free hand rest on Mike’s shoulder in an absent kind of encouragement, and the soft, pleased sound Mike releases confirms the instinct.
It’s the way you’d acknowledge a pet whose need for attention is less important than what you’re doing, and that – that connection – does so much to clarify what Mike needs. Harvey slides his hand up to rest on Mike’s crown and gives his scalp an idle massage; Mike makes a helpless sound and sucks Harvey’s cock between his lips.
Mike enjoys this so much, it’s obscene; Harvey knew, Mike had told him, but actually receiving it’s an experience. His approach to this is much the same as it was to riding the dildo: restless, curious, natural. Constantly trying out new things. Harvey indicates what he likes best with casual affection, stroking his fingertips behind one of Mike’s ears, massaging his nape, all the while denying eye contact.
The tongue bath gives way to more sucking, eventually, so varied in depth and pace that Harvey never knows what’s coming next, and can’t make progress towards actual orgasm.
It’s the best goddamn kind of tease, and Harvey wishes he could watch. He can feel Mike’s eyes on him, almost constantly, more absorbed in Harvey’s reactions than the actual execution – he’s well-practiced. It’s intoxicating; next time they do this, Harvey’s going to be staring right back.
Mike alternates between taking him in his throat and rubbing the head against the silky inner lining of his cheek, between bobbing deep and fast and pulling back to dig his tongue into the slit, and after an eternity of being played, Harvey gives up all pretense of watching the tv. He keeps his eyes fixed in place but doesn’t bother trying to focus, all his attention turned inward, and downward.
Mike can see it. Harvey knows that Mike can see it because the kid moans around a mouthful of cock, a deeper, more heartfelt sound than all the eager noises he’d let slip before. And he finally, finally sets a rhythm Harvey can latch onto, a pace that makes it hard to keep his hips on the couch, and there’s no point in trying.
“Gonna fuck it now. I’m gonna fuck that sweet mouth.” Mike groans, and Harvey can feel it straight to his balls. This won’t take long. “I want you to pinch my thigh right now. Harder. Okay, there – that’s your safe signal, if you need me to stop, or even just ease up. Understand?”
Mike makes a sound in the affirmative and Harvey swears, hips jagging forward without conscious thought. Mike’s response is to knead Harvey’s thighs and choke himself further, until Harvey takes ahold of his scruff and pulls him away a little.
The first few thrusts are slow, testing the amount of space he’s given himself to work and exactly how far he’ll push before he hits the back of Mike’s throat.
“Look up at me,” he says, even though Mike is already looking. “Keep your eyes here.”
And shit, Harvey feels his cock pulse just from seeing Mike’s pupils this blown.
Sitting isn’t the best way to do this, but Harvey’s going to come before long, so it’ll be fine. He gives Mike’s neck a squeeze – stay – as he starts to pump his hips faster. It’s the third thrust when Harvey overshoots and hits flesh hard enough to really bruise; Mike gag-coughs but he’s okay. Harvey grits his teeth and focuses on keeping a workable depth.
There’s a moment, after Harvey hits his stride, when Mike just goes loose… muscles turning to taffy as he gives in completely. “Oh fuck, look at you,” Harvey gasps, “oh fuck,” his balls draw up, “oh fuck, take my come,” and he buries himself so deep he feels Mike’s high needy sound on the tip of his dick and he just…fucking loses it.
Mike’s nostrils flare for oxygen as he works Harvey’s come down his throat, and the suction is – God, he’s a fucking champ, but eventually he coughs just a bit, and Harvey lets him up.
His dick’s still stiff and flushed and his hips are juttering with aftershocks; Mike licks him, root to tip, and Harvey laughs, shuddery. His head falls back.
“Fuck.” His whole body jolts when Mike suckles the head. “Okay…okay, stop now. That was. Shit. Get up here.”
Mike smiling as he climbs in Harvey’s lap. “So that was good then?”
Little fucker’s even licking his lips, so smug, and Harvey can’t help but grin back. He lands a light smack on Mike’s cheek before pulling him close. He tastes like come but his jaw must be one big ache, so Harvey reigns it back to nibbling, close-mouthed kisses.
Harvey’s not entirely surprised, given what he knows, to feel Mike’s cock prodding his stomach. He loves sucking cock, and he was down there quite a while. When Harvey wraps his hand around it, it’s the first time he’s touched him, and Mike abruptly breaks the kiss, wiggling forward on Harvey’s thighs.
“Ohhh,” he moans when Harvey finds the stroke that makes his toes curl into Harvey’s thighs. “Oh God, I’ve never been so grateful for a handjob in my whole life.”
Harvey smiles. “Not even your first?”
Mike’s fists ball the cotton of Harvey’s tee at the seams. “Before my first, I didn’t know what I was missing.”
Mike looks so good, cheeks flushed, lips abused. The poor kid has cotton mouth at this point, so Harvey’s the one to spit down onto the head of Mike’s cock, smooth it down and ease the way.
Harvey catches Mike’s groan in his mouth, teasing kisses utterly at odds with the rough way he’s handling Mike’s cock.
“What if I told you you could only have my hand…for the next month?”
The sound Mike makes is pathetic, but his dick twitches. Harvey laughs, feeling breathless.
“Would you rather have my hand, or someone else’s mouth?”
Mike’s breath stutters at the twist of Harvey’s hand, and he sounds put out when he says, “It’s better than a lot of mouths.”
“What about cock?” Harvey puts his mouth against Mike’s ear. “What if I told you you couldn’t get fucked, couldn’t even play with your own hole, that you had to make do with me jerking you off? Indefinitely?”
Mike thrusts into Harvey’s fist. “I’d beg.”
“But would you give it up?”
Harvey feels how very close Mike’s getting – the way that drives him closer. “Yes. Jesus.”
“It’s a privilege to come in my hand. Say it.”
“Unh. It’s a – ” Mike stops, short of breath, and Harvey lets go of his dick; it brings a full-body gasp of disappointment. “It’s a privilege to – ” He works Mike’s cock with intent, and Mike’s whole body strains. “ – come in your hand. Oh God.”
It’s a matter of moments before he does, desperate fingers twisting Harvey’s shirt beyond all saving. It wrings him dry and leaves him gasping.
They stay right where they are, with little movement, until Mike’s stomach growls. That's when they finally stir. Harvey makes Mike turn around and present his ass, first, for an inspection – it's settled into a pretty pink glow, no welts. Mike's probably in for a day of sitting very tenderly, but he doesn't seem bothered by the prospect.
They make a very belated lunch, and Mike’s so hungry he finishes Harvey’s deli meat. He looks alive though, and slowly untangles himself from Harvey – by the time they’re both done, he’s reestablished independence, albeit unconsciously.
“I should probably get going,” he says eventually. Not guilty or self-conscious, just ready.
“Sure. But before you do….” Harvey waits until he has Mike’s full attention. “When we meet with Gina, I want to discuss an open-ended contract.”
Mike looks incredibly pleased by that and trying to stifle it. Harvey’s mouth tips and without a real decision, he reaches out to touch Mike. They both turn on the sofa to face one another.
“Here’s what I’m thinking, and tell me if any of it doesn’t sound good to you.” Harvey pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “A lot of the time, the motivation behind two people establishing a long-term contract is primarily exclusivity. It’s good to make sure everyone’s clear on what’s happening, but that transition from regular scene partners to more…that’s the primary reason, in my experience. That’s a factor here – I don’t want you with anyone else unless we agree on it – but it’s early for that. My main reasoning here is that I want more…flexibility than individual negotiations provide.
“Tell me if I’m reading you wrong – ” he’s not, he knows he’s not, but it’s bad manners to presume at this point, and it’s pushy, “– but I think you have fantasies of a Dom having more extensive control.”
Mike’s ears go pink at the tips when he nods, and Harvey concentrates considerable energy into maintaining a mask of sincerity. That blush does something to him, but it’s not the time.
He satisfies himself with letting it show, just a little, when he tells Mike, “Me, too.” Then it’s back to business. “So I’m thinking that you and I should discuss specific limits extensively – in the immediate kind of sense, things we’re ready for right now – and make a list of things I’m allowed to spring on you without discussion. Obviously safewords still apply, and we can discuss more or renegotiate any time you like, but it would give us some room to be spontaneous.”
Mike’s eyes are bright and excited, and he’s nodded through half of Harvey’s speech. It’s no surprise when he says, “Yeah, that sounds really good.”
Harvey’s mouth keeps pulling into a smile. “Good. Before Friday, you should make a list of things you really want to try. I’ll email you mine ahead of time and you can take your time and decide what you’re comfortable with.”
Mike lifts an eyebrow. “Afraid I’m going to run screaming?”
Harvey looks away for a moment, trying to quell some of his amusement. “No, I’ll save those for the third date.”
Mike grins and ducks his head.
“In the meantime,” Harvey says, and waits til Mike’s looking up again, “I know I just said it’s not about exclusivity, but I’d prefer that we both abstain until the contract’s in place.”
“Between now and Friday? How much free time do you think I have?”
Harvey holds up his hands in surrender. “I know what I got up to in the file room.” Mike opens his mouth, clearly bent on specifics, but Harvey waves him off. “Okay, we’re done. Get out.”
“Is that how you end all your negotiations?”
“Just the ones where I have the clear advantage.”
“So, all of them.”
It’s the basest kind of flattery, but Harvey preens a little and then herds Mike out the door.
ETA (7/8/2013): argh, sorry, unexpected delays - I'll update as soon as I can. more info here:
Holy shit, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. I've been poking at and rewriting this chapter for literally a year and a half, but it goes to show the power of scrapping your established work and coming from a completely different angle, because once I did that, it took me about three weeks of patchy privacy to get back on track.
anyway, in recompense for the long wait, have 8.5k of mostly porn. pretty awesome porn too, if I do say so myself.
A few other things:
1. I'm posting, for the moment, pretty much unbeta'd. Kate has generously offered to give me broad notes while she's away on her extended vacation, but she's pretty much out of pocket and I'm too impatient to wait. That's just to say this is probably not as tight as it could be and I reserve the right to polish things up later. although I kind of always reserve that right - I'm fiddly. I should also say that if you see something obnoxiously wrong that would have been caught in beta, poke me in comments, I don't mind.
2. I got a few points of concrit sometime back that some of the aftercare in Chapter 11 wasn't strictly necessary, and after considering it, decided I agreed. I revised the chapter as it's posted here last week, but since a few people specifically commented that they liked the stuff I was cutting, I've preserved the chapter as it originally stood over at my lj
3. Since it's been a long time since I posted and it's starting to become relevant to this chapter, I wanted to revisit my note on the definition and distinctions between 24/7 play and TPE
4. Uh, also, the link to the restraints within the chapter is decidedly NSFW (but yummy, if you’re all by your lonesome).
5. I can't promise weekly posting right now, but I do have a bead on Chapter 13 and will do my best to keep the ball rolling this time. Thanks for all your patience, understanding and encouragement.
Harvey starts drafting his end of their wish list on Sunday after Mike leaves. Handing Gina a nice tidy list of specifics will go a long way towards preventing her from having his balls over the rules they've already broken, much less the free-form way he wants to proceed.
Harvey knows what he wants, and has spent a considerable amount of time already thinking about what he'd like to try with Mike, so even the extensive, Gina-friendly minutiae doesn't take him very long. The last two days haven't changed his ideas so much as refined them. He has a greater sense, now, of what Mike needs. What he responds to.
Sent: Tuesday, August 29, 2011 12:03 AM
Subject: starting list
As far as I'm concerned, all the previous rules and boundaries would stand, unless you want changes. My preference would be at least one scene a week, but we'll be flexible with your schedule. I'd also prefer to continue some of the 24/7 elements from our phone play - particularly, giving you standing orders for times when we're not together. However, I'm perfectly willing to limit the scope to in-person play if you'd prefer it.
Things I want carte blanche to initiate:
* Impact - you respond so well, I'd like us to experiment with this a lot. I'm thinking: straps, belts, light canes, paddles (attached, a breakdown of specific implements). I'll save bare hand for warm-ups - that really isn't enough for you.
* Gags and restraints - short duration. Attaching a breakdown of specific options.
* Rough handling, including face fucking, manhandling, wrestling / pinning, bruising (under areas covered by business attire), biting (without breaking skin), face slapping (open hand, no marks)
* Light humiliation - disregard and mockery (contextual, as you said you preferred), sexual objectification (in the context of a scene). Please consider whether there are any topical limitations you'd like to put in place, or whether there are any terms you'd prefer I avoid.
* Control over sexual activity - I control what and when, without explanation or justification. You may not complain, beg, request or suggest activities I haven't initiated. You may not engage in sexual activity with others without my initiating it. You may masturbate without permission, but you may not orgasm without asking permission. I reserve the right to deny orgasm for a period up to three days; longer periods with prior discussion. Please consider if you have any limits on sex acts between the two of us.
* Control over appearance, including professional wardrobe and grooming. Attaching a list of specific aspects where I may choose to exercise control.
* Control over diet - I have no interest in dictating everything you eat, but I may choose to order for you when we're together, or dictate what you eat - on occasion - when we're not.
* Public play, limited to club grounds or to a private residence where only club members are present. Play may include any of the activities outlined above. Control over allowing other club members to touch you (excluding genital or anal contact without prior discussion)
On the table, subject to further negotiation / discussion:
* Inclusion of other parties in a more involved capacity - attaching a list of specific possibilities
* Roleplay - I'm open to nearly anything you'd like to consider.
These are just my preferences - I'm open to any additional suggestions you have.
Mike's apparently home at a decent hour, because a response arrives almost immediately:
Sent: Tuesday, August 29, 2011 12:04 AM
Subject: re: starting list
just in time for me to jack off - thanks for that.
Enthusiastic response of his dick notwithstanding, Harvey expects Mike to have some reservations about a few things, so he's unsurprised by the text he gets from Mike the following evening.
I'm 110% on board with most of this but the clothes and food stuff is weirding me out
Harvey has to clear out the text of his initial reply, which is far pushier - and snarkier - than he should probably allow himself to be.
It's all negotiable - take it off the table if you want
I'm not saying that. I just don't know how to feel about it.
and you have all week to decide
Why did you put them in there?
Harvey hesitates a moment, trying to decide on the best answer.
Because I like it. Because you eat like a child. Because even a PD in this town needs to cultivate an image and you have no idea what you're doing.
Not a sex thing then
Oh, sometimes it will be
And then, because he's curious:
Would it be better or worse if it were?
There's a long pause before Harvey's phone buzzes again.
Honestly, I'm not sure
Harvey's considering the conversation over when Mike adds:
And I'm not a PD
He smiles as he replies: Good - those people are pathetic.
totally called that - you're all heart
He doesn't hear from Mike again until Thursday, an email addressing all Harvey's requests and adding a few of his own.
Basically, he's accepted all Harvey's major suggestions, with just a few qualifications and eliminations in the detailed sheets they're filling out for Gina - none of which are things Harvey was very attached to anyway.
Mike's additions, on the other hand, please him mightily. Mike wants to try sounding, eventually, is curious about cock cages - including, with further discussion, the possibility of wearing them under his clothes - and Harvey's favorite: "I want you to own me. I want to feel like you own me."
That, he can do.
They meet Gina at seven that Friday, at a restaurant whose booths allow for a good bit of privacy.
Gina's already seen a current draft of their contract - emailed to her earlier that day - but they go over it point by point together, Gina probing and clarifying limits in ways that Mike may not have considered. It's an invaluable exercise for a new sub, made less tedious for Harvey by Mike's involuntary reactions to each topic - the way he pinks up here, the expansion of his pupils there. The occasional squirming.
Harvey wants to eat him alive. He limits himself to raking his nails through the short hair dusting the nape of Mike's neck. Mike flushes and loses his thought halfway through a sentence.
Gina catches Harvey's eye, looking less than impressed with him. "Harvey, do try to keep your hands off the boy for twenty more minutes. After that, he's all yours."
Harvey grins and makes a show of putting his hands in plain sight.
"Good boy. Now I have a few caveats of my own for this little scheme you two thought up." Gina's eyes linger on Harvey pointedly, and he gestures for her to go on. "Mike, I think it's early for you to put this much control in Harvey's hands - are you sure you want to skip individual scene negotiations?"
Harvey can feel Mike stifle the impulse to look his way before answering Gina - Harvey's fingers itch to stroke his neck in appreciation. "I'm sure - I'm a little nervous but I'm sure it's what I want. And I mean, some of the stuff we did say we'd talk about beforehand. I think that's enough."
Gina nods as though she expected Mike to say as much. "Okay. I think that's fine if that's what you want. But - " her eyes pin Harvey, serious. "Before you begin a scene, you need to lay out exactly what you're planning to do to him. No omissions. You need to give him time to prepare himself, and speak up before you begin if something makes him nervous. And I want you to debrief, after."
It's something he probably would have done anyway - Mike is green, and Harvey's not reckless - but he just nods, sincere as a choir boy. "Of course."
"Alright, I think that's about it. I'll send you both the updated paperwork." She closes her tablet and sets it aside. "Mike, I'd like to talk to Harvey for a moment, if you don't mind."
Harvey stands to let Mike out of the booth, ignoring his worried look and nudging him towards the front of the restaurant. "Go hail us a cab and don't worry about letting the meter run. I'll be out when we're finished."
Harvey watches until Mike's out of earshot, then settles himself back at the table. "I know it seems fast, but I think it's what he needs."
Gina waves him off. "It is fast, it might be what he needs, but it's definitely what he wants. I'll be checking in regularly, and you know I'll have your ass if you don't manage things appropriately. So let's talk about you."
Harvey smiles politely and takes a sip of coffee to cover the fact that he's thrown. "Me?"
"I haven't seen the great Harvey Specter this smitten with a particular sub in...well. Frankly, ever."
"I'm not - " He refuses to repeat that ridiculous word, which is untrue, but she looks far too amused for his comfort when he breaks off. "We're a good fit, that's all."
She shakes her head at him and tsks. "Risked my wrath for a pretty face."
He grins. "Let's face it, I've risked your wrath for a lot less. It's why you love me."
Her face is no bullshit. "I love you for your pro bono legal services. I tolerate you for your shitty personality. And I'm entertained by your stunning capacity for denial. Dinner's on me, don't keep your boy waiting." She waits until he's halfway out the restaurant to call: "And Harvey - I expect to be invited to the wedding."
He scratches his nose with his middle finger on the way out.
"You have anywhere to be tomorrow morning?" is Harvey's first question when he gets in the taxi idling at the curb.
"I made sure I didn't."
"Good boy." Mike looks so excited and horny about their impending play session that Harvey can't keep his hands off him. He slides his palm up the inside seam of Mike's jeans and kneads as he leans forward to give his address to the cab driver.
Then he shuts the window in the Plexiglas barrier and turns his attention to Mike, chewing his lip. Harvey licks his own, and with a side-eye to the taxi driver, slides his hand over Mike's cock and rubs him through his jeans.
He keeps his voice low - the cab driver probably doesn't give a fuck, but the barrier's hardly soundproof. “If I made you earn the privilege of being fucked, like I said last week, how long do you think it would take?”
Mike closes his eyes and breathes through his mouth for a second. When he opens them again, they're all pupil. “I don’t know; I’m not sure it matters. I have the feeling you’ve already decided.”
He's not wrong. Harvey gives his cock a squeeze. “I'd say four to six weeks. Of begging and crawling and working hard to obey me. That’s how long it would take you to learn. To deserve what you want.” Mike’s breathing through his mouth, face flushed, but otherwise still. Harvey's pleased that he doesn't try to protest, and frankly, he has no desire to wait that long himself, so he says: “But if you want me to take what I need, then I’m fucking you today.”
There’s a beat where Mike stares at him, clearly trying to work out what he needs to say to get what he wants. Harvey lets him. “Whatever you want. Sir."
Harvey smiles - it feels sharp at the edges with anticipation. "Good answer, Mike. You don't mean that yet, but you will."
Harvey pays for the taxi and leads Mike through the lobby with a hand yoking the back of his neck. They have a bicycle in tow - Mike came to dinner straight from the office, wearing a hideous suit and sweating from the rush to meet them on time - and the tires are filthy, leaving marks all over the building entrance and the private elevator.
"Don't even think about wheeling that thing into my home. It'll be fine right here." He ushers Mike out of the elevator, then on impulse, pushes him without much force up against the wall, holding him there with a light palm on his chest.
"Signing your body into the care of a near-stranger's pretty stupid - you know that?"
"Not my worst idea," Mike says, chin notched up a little and something lurking under his light tone. Harvey brushes aside his curiosity at that in favor of dropping his eyes to Mike's attire.
"Like that suit?"
Mike frowns at himself. "There's really nothing wrong with my suit."
"You keep telling yourself that." When Mike takes a breath to argue back, Harvey slides the restraining hand to Mike's throat and squeezes, just a bit. The way Mike takes that cue... "When Gina's right, she's right, so here's how this will go. Before we scene, I'll describe what I'm planning to do. If you like what you hear, I want a 'thank you, sir.' If you have any reservations whatsoever, you will share them. Politely, but no formalities or safewords are necessary until we begin. I want to hear if you have any concerns, but I don't want to hear complaints or suggestions. There's a time for that, and it's not here. Does that sound fair?"
"Good. I'm going to fuck you tonight. I'm going to be rough and selfish, because this is for me, not for you." Harvey feels a thrill down his spine when Mike's mouth drops open, and he dips his thumb inside, lets Mike suckle. "Gonna pin you down on your back first and fuck your skull. You'll take whatever I give you - I'll bind your hands just to be sure. Then when I'm finally tired of your mouth - when your jaw is sore and you'd promise me anything if I'd just let you breathe, I'm going to flip you over and ream your ass so hard you'll forget where you are. Then maybe when I’m done…I haven’t decided, but I might just let you come.”
Mike’s face is slack with want and his cock is already distorting the front of his slacks. Harvey slides his thumb out of the boy's mouth. "Thank you, sir."
Harvey leans in and presses a kiss to Mike’s mouth, careful, restrained and brief. “Go take your clothes off and kneel by the bed. I’ll be there shortly.”
He backs off enough to let Mike away from the wall but doesn’t watch him leave; instead he takes a breath and adjusts himself. He gives Mike a few minutes to do as he was ordered before following into the bedroom.
Mike’s already naked and kneeling, cheap sweaty suit strewn hastily all over the floor at the foot of Harvey’s bed. He should make Mike clean it up but he doesn’t have the patience, so he toes it into a more compact pile. He can only hope it’ll be a loss by morning.
He opens the storage trunk where he keeps most of his toys and holds up the restraints he has in mind, moving to crouch in front of Mike. “This is what I’m going to use on you tonight – this part buckles around your throat. The strap hangs down your back to keep your wrists behind you.” Mike’s mouth falls open a little, eyes following the movement of Harvey’s hands; he shifts restlessly. Harvey hardly needs to ask, but he does. “Color?”
The word is hardly out of his mouth before Mike says, "Green," eyes snagging on Harvey’s. The intensity there, how much he wants it, steals Harvey’s breath for a second.
Harvey pushes to his feet. “Stand up and turn around.”
There’s no grace in the way Mike scrambles to his feet, and it’s a strange aphrodisiac. Harvey makes himself take his time, buckling the neckpiece and checking the fit, doing the same for each wrist and adjusting the length of the back strap.
When he’s done, his hands slide over Mike’s shoulders. They’re pretty, bisected by black leather, as is the lightly-haired skin of the nape of Mike’s neck; Harvey knew he’d look good this way. "Comfortable?”
Mike doesn’t answer right away, taking a minute to shift around and accustom himself. It’s something lots of new subs have to be taught – to stop and evaluate before giving an answer; Gina was right about his instincts. “It's good.”
“It looks good on you,” Harvey says, and brushes his lips over Mike’s neck – it sets off a hyper-sensitive shudder. Harvey moves closer and does it again, pressed against Mike’s back, all that cooling sweat rubbing off on his good suit. He doesn’t give a shit. He sets his teeth around the cartilage of Mike’s ear, and Mike’s hands flex into fists against his stomach.
Harvey closes his hand over Mike’s cock and balls like a statement of possession, grinding the heel into his erection. He controls Mike’s head with his other hand, gripping his jaw to keep him still.
Mike’s breath is harsh and fast like he can’t get enough air; his dick is pulsing hot against Harvey’s palm. "Tell me who you belong to, as of today."
It's not normally language he'd use at this stage, but Mike wanted the fantasy, and even the question makes his dick twitches in Harvey’s hand as he says, "You."
"Mm, that's right," Harvey says against his earlobe. He closes his lips around it and sucks, scraping the soft flesh between his teeth. Mike moans, giving his weight to Harvey and thrusting against his hand. Harvey squeezes down on his balls to discourage it, just tight enough to make Mike gasp. "And what does it mean, that you belong to me?"
Part reconnaissance, part helping Mike settle into his place, he lets Mike fumble for an answer of his own. "It means you decide what...happens to me." Interesting word choice. "It means I have to obey you and be what you want." Be, not do. The pulse in Mike's throat is racing against Harvey's palm. "It means you can do whatever you want to me."
Mike gasps out as Harvey sinks his teeth into the meat of Mike’s shoulder, more turned on by Mike's all-encompassing definition than he probably should be; Mike's whole body spasms, hips jerking in a muted way, trying so hard to follow Harvey’s nonverbal command to stay still. What a good boy. Harvey thrusts against his bare ass.
"I can do anything I want to you, is that right?" Mike stiffens and hesitates, and Harvey leaves off fondling him in favor of a hand on his belly. He pitches his voice in a distinctly softer tone as he says, "Trust me, Mike."
Mike's shoulders loosen up, but the space of a breath passes before he says, "I trust you. Anything you'd like."
Harvey kisses his throat in reward. "What I'd like right now is a decision. If we leave these restraints on tonight, your arms are going to be pinned between you and the mattress while I fuck your face.” Hard to say if the hitch in Mike’s breath is from the words being spoken in his ear, or from the hand reclaiming Mike’s sac, idly handling him. “I need you to think hard about that, and decide if that’s okay – if not, I can take them off.”
Mike’s not turned off by the idea, at least, cock as hard as ever against Harvey’s hand. But Harvey likes that he gives consideration before he answers.
“If my hands aren't free and you're using my mouth, how would I safeword?”
Harvey smiles, a little proud of what a quick study Mike is. “Smart boy. You'll hit your heel against the mattress – color?”
There's a pause - not so long that Harvey worries Mike has misgivings, but long enough that he must be truly considering his limits. “Green.”
He eases Mike’s weight back on his own feet and uses his grip on Mike’s shoulders to turn him, turn them, back Mike up a few steps – one hard shove and Mike tumbles backwards onto the mattress. He hits it with a bounce and Harvey sinks a grip around his hamstrings, sliding Mike all the way onto the bed.
He nips Mike’s inner thigh, licks his way north and nuzzles into the base of Mike’s cock, holding Mike’s hips when he strains upward.
“You’re allowed to speak this time, but watch your manners,” Harvey says, and immediately a ‘fuck, please,’ bursts out of Mike. Harvey ignores him – he has no intention of blowing Mike tonight, but he likes Mike’s cock, the heavy, excited smell of him. The hair traps it close, makes it thick, and he’ll miss the full potency once he gets Mike waxed.
There are other upsides to be had, though. Like sucking Mike’s balls without hair on his tongue.
When he decides he’s had enough, Harvey pulls away and he disappears into the closet, hands already reversing the knot of his tie. He tunes out Mike’s indignant squawking; Mike wants a little neglecting, no matter how much he complains, so Harvey takes the time he needs to undress and tend his suit. He uses it to think about Mike’s answer – the way he imagines Harvey's ownership should be – and survey the angles for this scene.
When he emerges, Mike strains up to watch him cross the room, stomach flexing to pull his shoulders off the mattress; Harvey shoves him flat and kneels over his waist.
“I didn’t hear you complaining out here, did I?”
Mike opens his mouth to speak and stalls out. Harvey has to smile, but makes it a little mean. Lots of teeth.
“No good answer for that one, is there – either lie and get punished or tell the truth and piss me off. You think you’re allowed to complain after saying you’d give me anything?”
Mike swallows thickly, and shakes his head.
He grabs Mike’s jaw and gives him a little shake, capped with a light smack. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
“I’m not allowed to complain.”
“Good boy.” When Harvey sits back on his heels, Mike’s cock gets trapped against his taint, and he shifts his hips, enjoying the way Mike’s eyes flutter shut. The position of Mike’s arms give Mike’s back an arch and his feet are planted on the mattress – Mike already has natural leverage, and Harvey’s unsurprised when he starts to thrust.
Harvey takes a moment to entertain the idea of Mike fucking him sometime – he can’t remember the last man that tempted him – then grabs Mike’s nipple (and a safe amount of flesh) and twists. Mike yelps, hips jerking hard before he freezes.
“Since you clearly can’t take a hint, I’ll say it: no moving. Your pleasure doesn’t matter tonight, and if I want you to do something for me, I’ll tell you so.”
There are red splotches forming high on Mike’s cheeks. “Yes, sir.”
Harvey wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it harder, staring down. Mike can’t seem to decide where Harvey wants him looking, so his eyes dart back and forth from his face to his cock – Harvey doesn’t bother relieving Mike’s mind with an answer. Watching him flounder around is gorgeous; Mike wants to be good, but doesn’t know Harvey yet, and that’s somehow….
Harvey’s torn between wanting to eat him alive and dress him down for putting so much faith in a man he mostly knows from the telephone.
He knee-walks up Mike’s body until he’s close enough, until he’s right there, thighs bracketing Mike’s face. His cock has won Mike’s full attention and when Harvey lets it fall heavily against Mike’s face, Mike shudders violently, expression stupid with lust. Harvey’s throbbing. Mike opens his mouth and turns his head just enough to get that dick on his tongue and Harvey’s hindbrain wants to shove forward.
Instead he takes himself out of Mike’s reach and makes his voice a threat. “What did I just say?”
“Sir. I’m not supposed to move. But – ”
Harvey covers his mouth, smothering whatever insubordinate thing might have come out of Mike’s mouth. It’s instinct more than intention but so is reading Mike, the way his eyes roll closed and his whole body writhes; he hit a kink. He clamps down just a little harder and Mike’s nostrils flare to pull in oxygen.
Harvey gives Mike – and himself – a moment to enjoy it before he speaks. “When I say you’re not to move, you’re not to move. Open your eyes.” When Mike does, Harvey moves his hand. “Let me clarify what you’re doing here. You haven't earned this, so you’re not a person right now. You don’t get to initiate. You don’t get to have ideas. You don’t get to want things. You're here for me - you’re a toy. You’re a hole for me to fuck. No, don’t close your eyes – look at me.”
Harvey’s pulse skips. Mike’s face is mottled red with strong emotion, and when he opens his eyes, Harvey sees just why he closed them. He looks cracked open. Raw. There’s a look Harvey’s always found addictive – this worshipful kind of devotion when he gets it right. When he pushes all their hottest buttons. Mike’s got it now. It’s washing over his face and it makes Harvey’s pulse surge.
He’s definitely found a narrative that works for Mike, and lucky for them both, it serves his own mood nicely tonight.
He looms in closer, so he's all that Mike can see. “You’re something to be used. And maybe, while I use you, it causes you to make noise, or to move. Maybe when I use you, you suck or you clench or you come. But you don’t want things. You don’t do things. You take my cock and you serve your purpose. Understood?”
Mike nods, dumbstruck. Harvey drags his thumb down the divot of Mike’s chin; he needs to hear Mike say it…this thing that took Mike apart with one blow.
“Show me you understand – tell me your purpose.”
“I’m a hole to fuck.”
“You’re a hole for me to fuck,” Harvey says, because Mike missed a crucial part. “Now open up.”
Mike’s jaw drops obediently, tongue arching to present a place to land, and a pleased hum rises up from Harvey’s chest. He rubs the tip of his dick over Mike’s tongue, and Mike struggles not to lick. “Such a pretty toy, too.”
Mike’s eyes flutter and roll back but ultimately return to his, and Harvey rewards the effort by angling his dick into Mike’s mouth.
“You can suck.”
Mike’s lips close around him and his cheeks hollow, but his tongue remains where it is, placidly cradling the underside while Harvey slowly slides further in and withdraws.
He’s experienced firsthand how much control Mike has over his gag reflex, but the angle’s wrong for pushing deep; Harvey has other plans, but this, right now, is about easing Mike down, watching him take Harvey's dick from a position of no leverage. Watching his face to make sure he’s not overwhelmed by this before they up the ante.
After a few minutes of slow and careful movement, Harvey braces one hand on the bed and thrusts a little faster; Mike moans around him.
“That’s right…Jesus, look at you. I bet you can take it even harder.” Harvey hisses through his teeth and has to look away at the throaty groan that Mike makes. “I’m gonna turn around, open you up, and fuck my way down your throat….”
Mike gasps sharply, then chokes just a little on the fluids pooling in his mouth – Harvey pulls away and turns Mike to the side a bit, lets him cough and breathe and recover. The struggle makes his dick twitch, and even after Mike gets his breath back, his ruddy cheeks and glassy eyes are perversely becoming.
He climbs back on top of Mike, looming face-to-face. “Ask me to use your throat.”
Mike has to swallow again and clear it before he speaks. He has that post-coughing haze in his voice when he says, “I want you to fuck my throat.”
“Hmm,” Harvey says, like it’s not his idea. He traces one finger down Mike’s jaw. Mike’s still swallowing frequently to soothe himself, but his breath is evening out. “I’m not sure you can handle it.”
“I can.” Harvey allows a small smile, edged with condescension. He watches Mike struggle against the urge to say something else.
He holds his tongue, though, and Harvey leans in, lips brushing Mike’s ear. He caresses Mike’s throat with a light hand. “Even when I fuck you so hard that my balls slap your face and you can’t catch your breath and you think it won’t end?”
Mike’s body jerks and violently shudders, so wholly involuntary that Harvey shushes him when he tries to apologize; he kisses him, rough and toothy.
“What’s your signal?” Harvey prompts when he finally breaks away.
“Kicking my heel against the bed.”
“Any kind of kicking and I’ll stop. Keep your feet flat on the bed if everything is good.”
Mike looks so excited by the prospect of what Harvey’s about to do that Harvey wants to lean back in and bite at his mouth, suck bruises on his throat, just…steal his breath and maul him and make him moan. But he makes himself get up and move behind Mike’s head.
It’s no coincidence that Harvey’s mattress is cock-height; Harvey hooks his hands under Mike’s arms and drags him closer, to the edge and then a little more so Mike’s head is tipped back.
His throat is bared in a pretty, vulnerable line – Harvey ignores Mike’s gaping mouth for a moment, just to stroke it, to trace both thumbs over the soft structure of his voicebox. He could kill Mike right now; if he were a different sort of person, he could. Mike’s laid himself wide open for it, bound up and exposed, and it would be so easy to remove whatever leverage he has left and just…. Mike wouldn’t have a single way to stop him. It’s a heady thought – the kind of power trip that grounds Harvey, perversely calms him and reminds him of this immense responsibility.
He lays a hand on Mike’s breastbone, thumb directly over the quick beat of his heart, and doesn’t bother guiding his dick as he steps closer. It bumps against Mike’s nose and slides along his cheek, and Harvey feels Mike’s gasp under his palm but Mike’s learned his lesson – he holds perfectly still as Harvey paints precome all over his face. Harvey’s so stiff that it hurts, but he doesn’t rush it, doesn’t aim. He thrusts against Mike’s face maybe half a dozen times before finally, almost accidentally, pushing inside.
Mike’s throat convulses with anticipation, his breath is labored and all his muscles are taut but he stays frozen, jaw open wide, as Harvey’s dick drags over hard palate. He’s struggling so hard to obey.
“Good toy. Now close.”
Mike’s lips seal around the shaft of Harvey’s cock, and Harvey breathes, rocking into the suction. He broadens the motion gradually to a shallow unhurried thrust, and that’s where Mike errs – the harsh drag of teeth draws a sharp hiss.
He retaliates immediately with a twist of Mike’s left nipple – it’s still tender from the first punishment. It’s not hard – a commensurate amount of pain to what he inflicted on Harvey – but Mike curls and cries out. He does like to complain.
“Let your teeth come near me again and you’ll regret it.”
With a breathless hum, Mike’s jaw eases wider and his lips roll in; Harvey picks up where he left off, fucking Mike’s mouth with increasing strength and depth. Mike’s humming eagerly and as Harvey’s thrusts get deeper, Mike starts swallowing when Harvey nears his throat….
Harvey slides right in, soft slick muscle convulsing around the head and making him gasp.
He pulls back out and lets Mike swallow again before pushing further down his throat. Out, and back again, Christ, that’s incredible. Then Mike hums, and Harvey loses his grasp – it’s a kick to the goddamn hindbrain that has him grunting, hips pulsing forward. He’s as deep as he can get but he tries to push deeper, head thrown back, burying himself longer than he should.
Mike stays calm. Mike, fuck, accepts it, accepts the loss of breath, squirming gently with his feet planted hard when it doesn’t stop –
Harvey makes himself pull back with a gasp. He pulls back entirely and gives Mike a few cleansing breaths; he strokes his cock, trying to soothe away the ghost of the vibration but nothing works until he can rub his dickhead all over Mike’s tongue.
Harvey moans in appreciation. Mike’s dick is hard against his belly; Harvey reaches out to stroke it, feather-light, with a single finger and then abandons him as soon as he arches up for more.
He fucks Mike’s throat in earnest after that, and Mike takes it gorgeously, keeping his head when Harvey fucks him faster, fucks him harder. Harvey can’t let go, not in Mike’s throat – he doesn’t even come close to that. He moans and swears, thrusts as hard as he thinks Mike can handle, but it’s all an illusion. It’s too easy to hurt Mike, too imperative to keep tight control, and it wears him down almost as steadily as it’s meant to wear on Mike.
There’s pleasure in it, naturally – the feel of Mike around him and the trust Mike’s showing right now. The wet, grotesque sound of amazing head. Mike starts out relaxed in a careful, studied way and Harvey watches it grow harder and harder to remain so. His chest is heaving with the effort of keeping his breath, whole body tensing and relaxing in waves as he focuses, but his cock…his cock is so engorged it looks painful. Deep red. It’s so goddamn hot how much he loves this, and Harvey says so.
Gradually, Mike’s squirming takes a tenser bent and his legs tighten up like he’s forcing them to stay flat on the mattress and that’s when Harvey slows and pulls free. As soon as he’s clear, Mike is gasping, swallowing, panting. Harvey helps him shift fully onto the mattress so he can rest his head. He cracks open the bottle of water he put by the bed, and tips some into Mike’s mouth.
Harvey settles on the bed next to Mike’s shoulder and lets him catch his breath. He looks exhausted. Fucked out. Harvey wraps his hand around his own dick, messy with spit, and Mike’s head rolls towards him, watching him jack himself with heavy-lidded eyes. He catches himself when he starts to speak, licking his lip instead and looking up at Harvey.
“I didn’t want to finish in your mouth, because I can’t fuck it as hard as I’d like.” Just as he’d anticipated, Mike’s eyes almost cross at that. Hand still on his cock, Harvey reaches out with his free hand and cups Mike’s skull, thumb stroking his temple. “Besides, it’s past time I tried your other hole. Roll over and show me.”
Harvey stays where he is, stroking Mike’s face, as Mike rolls onto his stomach and spreads his legs; it’s not until Mike’s settled that Harvey strokes down his spine and runs his middle finger – dry – over Mike’s hole. He plays at the resistance and Mike pushes back, greedy. His eyes are closed in pleasure, lashes resting against his cheek.
“Whose asshole is this?” Harvey asks quietly, and Mike shudders all over, rutting his cock against Harvey’s duvet before he opens his eyes.
“Really?” Mike nods, pelvis tilting into Harvey’s touch. “I can use it however I’d like?”
Mike’s cheeks are getting ruddy. “Yes.”
“It’ll take whatever I give it?”
“Even if I can’t be bothered to stretch you?”
Mike licks his bottom lip. “Yes.”
Harvey makes a considering noise. He gets up, and it must look like he’s walking away; Mike makes a truncated sound of protest and turns his face into the bedding. He shifts restlessly on his stomach, and by the time Harvey’s made it to the other side of the bed, he’s practically humping the soft material.
The bedside drawer rolls open with a distinctive sound as Harvey fetches lube and a condom, and Mike turns his face to the side again, straining to see over his shoulder. Harvey rolls a condom on quickly, watching the hedonistic movement of Mike’s hips become more showy. He spreads just enough lube on his cock as Mike pulls one knee up, arching back with every thrust, all but presenting himself for Harvey’s use.
One punishing smack to Mike’s ass makes him jerk and cry out, but stops the movement altogether, and it leaves a distinct, gratifying handprint behind on his skin.
Harvey pulls on Mike’s ankles to arrange his legs – spread but straight – and climbs up to straddle Mike’s hips, pinning his thighs under the sharp line of his shins. As soon as the head of Harvey’s cock presses up against Mike’s asshole, Mike is arching back again, lesson forgotten.
“You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you?” Mike jolts like Harvey hit him again and lets out a shocked, breathy moan; Harvey lays a hand on Mike’s lower back and presses down to dampen the desperate press of Mike’s hips. It doesn’t stop him from trying – he arches repeatedly back as Harvey uses the tip of his dick to smear lube around his hole. “The truth is, you’d make a terrible toy. You’re way too greedy.”
Case in point: when Harvey bears forward, prying through the outer ring of Mike’s ass, he has to force Mike back to the mattress to keep him from taking more. Has to hold him there as he eases out and presses back in again, just the tip, just that little bit. And as he does it again, he has to shift his hand down to Mike’s ass to keep him still.
Mike’s whole body bucks as Harvey presses in again, but Harvey ignores him. The stretch of Mike’s asshole has his attention – the way the tapered head of his own dick wedges it open a little further each time he bears forward, the way it opens up for him because he makes it, the way it’s little by little, each time, a little more, until finally the whole head pops through, inside, Mike clamping down around him.
When he pops the head back out again, Mike almost unseats him; he’s been getting louder the longer Harvey plays him, and apparently they’ve reached a tipping point. Harvey has to use both hands to hold Mike down, and even then, it’s a close thing. His cock throbs, slipping against Mike’s hole.
“You want me to fuck you?”
“Tell me what an awful toy you are.” Harvey thrusts against the crack of Mike’s ass, too horny to stay still.
“You’re a greedy slut.” Harvey has to put all of his weight in to keep Mike flat against the bed. “Tell me.”
“I’m greedy – ” Mike swallows like his mouth is dry. “I’m a greedy slut.”
“You need to be put in your place.” Mike turns into the bedding and groans, and Harvey takes the chance to line himself up with Mike’s hole. “Say it.”
“Yes. I need to be…put me in my place.”
Harvey slams home with so much force that Mike grunts, immediately offering his ass up for more and moaning with relief when Harvey gives it to him, no tease, flesh slapping flesh. All the pent-up force he couldn’t use on Mike’s throat and Mike takes it – breathy, delirious noises giving away just how much he loves it like this.
“Fuck, that feels good,” Harvey breathes, and it’s not gratuitous, not when the appreciation makes Mike’s spine twist and arch with pleasure. “Tell me why you love this.”
“This – ” Mike stutters out, and Harvey’s half-convinced he’s just parroting back the question. Even if an answer had been coming, it’s abruptly cut off by a throaty moan as Harvey changes angles – dicks Mike a little deeper, as deep as he can get in this position. There’s naked sincerity in Mike’s voice when he says, “I love your dick.”
Blood pulses to Harvey’s groin, but he laughs. “Yeah? What else.”
He’s all but given up the narrative at this point – Mike hardly needs it, too in the headspace…feeding more on the energy than the words. It strikes Harvey as a good chance for some recon – to learn what Mike thinks about, what his fantasies are.
“You could do anything,” Mike pants out, and Harvey watches that possibility shudder down his spine. “You could…. I couldn’t – ”
It’s so parallel to Harvey’s earlier thoughts that he can’t resist. “Did I ever tell you how well this apartment is soundproofed?”
Mike’s reaction to that is delicious: a sharp little bark of helpless lust, and he presses into the bedspread, taking a mouthful of fabric in his teeth. Harvey lays himself out along Mike’s back – cages him in with his body, and grinds against his ass.
“Associates wash out every day, Mike, you know that – sometimes they even leave without notice. Would anyone miss you at work? How long would it take?”
“Oh fuck,” Mike moans, and his whole body knots up. It’s not fear; it’s the tension of a man about to blow his load.
“I’m not talking about killing you, of course – what a waste that would be. There’s a lot to be said for hot, eager ass on tap.” Mike’s face is a rictus of ecstatic pain; he’s so desperate to come. Harvey’s fairly certain he can get him there just like this. He tilts his pelvis a few times til Mike sobs out. “And you would be eager. If I kept you here against your will. You’d practically choke yourself on my dick when I got home, wouldn’t you?”
Mike nods against the bed, gasping.
Harvey steels himself to fuck Mike harder, using his body weight and the give of the mattress to make up for poor leverage and drill himself inside. He can feel the desperate flex of Mike’s forearms against his stomach, clenching and unclenching like he wants to hold on for dear life.
“I’d be happy to let you – knowing you’re here would distract me all day. My own little certified genius – who gives a shit how smart you are when you can take a cock like this.” Mike goes wild at this, crying out sharply and coming off the bed til Harvey forces him down. They’re so close, Harvey can taste it; Mike is panting, gasping air into his lungs and releasing each breath with a sharp sound. His body’s coiled tight, writhing for friction on his cock, and Harvey’s so fucking high, he starts to laugh. “You like that? I think I do, too. The only thing better than having a human fuckdoll would be knowing you could be so much more if I would let you.”
It’s quickly getting painful to watch Mike try to claw his way towards orgasm on will alone, especially when everything Harvey says seems to drive him out of his mind, so Harvey pushes himself off Mike’s back, digs in and fucks Mike fast and hard, driving him to the home stretch.
“That’s it – rub that dirty little dick all over my sheets, that’s a good boy.” Harvey takes a few knuckles full of the short hair on top of Mike’s head and uses it to mash Mike’s face into the mattress – there’s a flush crawling down Mike’s back and they’re both soaked in sweat, the duvet’s a loss no matter what. If Mike can’t come soon like this, Harvey’ll switch it up, but he thinks they’re almost there.
He tightens his grip, putting more stress on Mike’s scalp. He puts all the sharp impatience he can muster into his voice. “If you don’t come before I do, you little shit, I swear to God, I’ll beat you so hard you won’t be able to leave this place for a week.”
An explosive “aahhh!” and Mike tightens up, spine curling as he comes (and comes, and comes), and Harvey fucks him through it til he’s limp and practically begging Harvey to stop.
Harvey grins, elated, and licks a stripe along Mike’s neck, soaking in the plea. “Do I hear a safeword?”
Mike gives an exhausted little headshake, and all at once, Harvey wants to see his face, flushed and fucked out and hurting while Harvey gets off. He pulls out and smiles at Mike’s sigh of relief, rolls him over like a sack of potatoes, and hitches his legs up, hefting his hips right off the mattress.
“Oh no,” Mike moans, but his head is rolling loosely against the mattress and the dismay makes Harvey laugh. He guides himself to Mike’s hole and thrusts in hard, anticipating Mike’s reaction – at the first stab to his prostate, Mike’s eyes fly open, and for the first time in a while, he forgets that his hands are bound. He tries to jerk them from behind his back, squirming when Harvey thrusts in again.
“Oh fuck.” Mike sounds breathless, with a pained noise when Harvey nails him – a choked little sob. “Stop. Harvey – fuck! Ow. Oh, God – stop. Stop! Please stop.”
“Do I hear a safeword?”
Harvey’s unbearably turned on.
It takes another thrust – another pained groan – before Mike answers. “No. No. No safeword.”
Excitement flares its way up his spine. Lucky for Mike, it won’t take him long to come like this.
“Feel free to beg,” Harvey tells him before he starts fucking in earnest – and Mike does, swearing and pleading and wiggling. There are tears in his voice, then in his eyes, then on his face, and Harvey feels an orgasm coiling when Mike gives up altogether…just goes limp and silent except for these nonverbal pleas he can’t help. In reward, Harvey shifts the angle to fuck him deeper but avoid direct stimulation, drinking in the relief and gratitude on Mike’s face as his own pleasure builds. “I want you to thank me,” he gets out. “Thank me for everything I did that you liked.”
Mike’s tongue works like his throat is dry – he’ll need water as soon as they’re done. He’ll need to stay awake for it – his eyes are barely focused. “Thank you for asking me here. Thank you for using me, making me a toy.” Shitshitshit. Harvey’s eyes want to roll closed but he keeps them glued to Mike’s face by force of will. The pleasure’s creeping up his spine, slowly making his vision dark. “Thank you for pinning my hands. Thank you for fucking my skull. Thank you for fucking me – thank you for being rough, thank you for making me come , thank you for using my body to get yourself off – ”
That’s it, that’s fucking it, he comes like a freight train, pounding it out on Mike in a series of punishing, grateful thrusts, and if Mike’s still going, Harvey doesn’t know it – deaf, dumb and blind.
When his head clears, he’s buzzing all over, feels fucking great, and he bends Mike briefly in half so he can kiss his wide-open face. Mike smiles, delighted, and Harvey gives his mouth a peck as well before he pulls away. He smiles down at the soft look on Mike’s face. “Be right back.”
He disposes of the condom in the bathroom, grinning at his own reflection – Jesus, great sex makes him feel like he can take on the whole world.
Mike’s nearly asleep already when Harvey comes back out of the bathroom. He’s grubby in a way no washcloth can fix – they both are – and they’ll both sleep better after a rinse, but first thing's first.
“C’mon – sit up, and let’s get your arms free.”
Mike grumbles but lets himself be maneuvered upright, sighing happily as Harvey frees him from his bonds and rubs them out. The restraints just get tossed on the floor - he'll clean them later, after Mike's asleep. He'll have energy, still.
After the initial pins and needles are gone, he helps Mike finish the water that's at hand. When Mike reaches for the bottle to hold it himself, he winces a bit.
“How do your arms feel?”
“Still a little stiff.”
When the bottle is empty, he presses Mike back onto the bed and climbs on top of him, gently stretching Mike’s arms over his head. Mike groans in relief, relaxing his spine in a way the bondage prevented before.
Harvey studies Mike's face, and lets himself smile. “That was perfect. You were so good for me.”
“Yeah?” The shy pleasure on Mike’s face makes Harvey’s chest swell, and he allows himself a moment to be glad he met Mike this way – that he can say these things.
“Yeah.” He turns Mike’s face to the side and licks up a little of his sweat. “You were a very good boy. You didn’t fight me at all.”
Mike makes a noise in his throat, which Harvey’s kissing; rough scenes make him a sap, but that’s fine because it’s aftercare. It’s not just allowed, it’s required.
He prompts: “What’s that?”
“I wasn’t a toy, like you wanted.”
“Mm. Well. Truth is, I don’t want a toy.” Harvey kisses the point of Mike’s jaw; Mike is basking in the attention, mouth tipping up at the corners. “I’d rather have a boy who needs my cock and loves whatever I do to his body any day.”
When Harvey rolls away, Mike makes a disappointed sound, and Harvey smiles; Mike seems more than pleased when he comes back with more water and chocolate for the two of them. He prefers this to juice – it has better results, in his experience, and the chocolate makes it feel more like a treat. Mike apparently has a sweet tooth, which helps, though he balks just a little when it’s dark chocolate, not milk.
“We have to do something about your diet,” Harvey affirms, and graciously ignores the way Mike rolls his eyes.
Mike seems a little more alert after that, and they need to get the sweat off, so they shower together – which, conveniently, allows Harvey the excuse to touch Mike however he wants. And he wants – Mike soaks up this kind of attention as readily as everything else. He's humming with pleasure as Harvey rubs him clean. It’s addictive.
The sheets haven’t really been soiled, just the duvet, so Harvey takes it off and borrows the one from the guest room. He's not tired, not by a long shot, but Mike's still a little goofy and definitely in need of the sleep. Harvey bundles him up in some clothing, climbs into bed after Mike and holds him, mind busily reviewing the scene - then leaping to three different cases, seeing new angles, making new connections - as Mike falls asleep.
thanks to Kate, as always, for encouragement and beta!
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.