Unobstructed Views

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Unobstructed Views
by templemarker

Notes: This is an ep tag to 107, though I believe it can be read without having seen it. I have not been moved to write an ep tag since, um, Buffy. Harvey/Mike, NC-17. My grateful thanks to [personal profile] samjohnsson for superb beta.


There was a bar down the street from the firm that Harvey occasionally frequented, when it had been a week deserving of some dedicated drinking. It wasn’t quite flashy enough to draw the notice of the attention-seeking associates or the partners. It wasn’t exclusive, but it was subdued, with dark paneling and leather seats and a top shelf Harvey was personally acquainted with.

He sat at the far end of the bar, mindlessly watching Sportscenter and sipping his Macallan twelve-year neat. His tie was neatly curled on the bar, a splash of blue next to the fine dark grain of the wood and the bright white of his bar napkin. The square was the same white of Scotty’s dress, when she broke it off with him, and would be the colour of her dress when she got married.

Wallowing in disappointment didn’t suit him, and he couldn’t put a finger on why he was so affected anyway. They had never been exclusive, and had only ever seen her the handful of times her business, or his, took them across the pond. There had never been love, had barely been affection, and Scotty was more liable to make fun of him than be kind to him. Harvey did her the same courtesy.

But something was lodged in the back of his throat about this, the abruptness of it all. They had never been exclusive, but Harvey never enjoyed being the object of pointed infidelity, either.

He contemplated this in the warm amber of his glass when the chair next to him was pulled out and a familiar frame dropped into it. Mike ducked out of his bag and set it next to him, and Harvey suppressed a sigh. Every time that stupid bag marred the line of Mike’s suit, no matter how poorly constructed it was, it ruined the line and made Harvey’s eyes hurt looking at him.

“Can I sit here?” Mike asked quietly.

“Seems like that’s a foregone conclusion, Mike,” Harvey said roughly. Maybe he’d had one or two before the glass in his hand; he usually had better control over the timbre of his voice.

Mike hesitated, but squared his shoulders and called over the bartender. “Um, what do you have on draught?” he asked, stealing a glance at Harvey, who was suppressing a sigh. After the bartender reeled off her list, Mike gave her one of his patented women-and-small-children-charming smiles and ordered Maker’s on the rocks instead.

Harvey shot a glance to him, to find Mike looking straight at him, clear-eyed. “Yes, I listened to your twenty-minute rant on appropriate drinking choices,” Mike said, the ghost of a smile hovering around his mouth. “I may not be able to repeat it verbatim, but I do recall the third of it you devoted to whiskey and scotch.”

“Of course that’s what you chose to listen to,” Harvey observed, raising his glass to his lips again. A brief flare of something danced across Mike’s face before he composed himself, and Harvey might’ve given him credit for the spine he was showing if he hadn’t been thoroughly committed to his own small woes.

He felt a hand curl around his wrist, and looked at it for a long moment before meeting Mike’s eyes once more. “I listen to everything you say, Harvey,” Mike said carefully, some urgency behind his words. The bar was quiet, most of the patrons collected in twos and threes near the front windows, far fewer near the back late on a Thursday night. Nina Simone was crooning softly from the speaker behind the bar. Harvey didn’t have to work hard to hear Mike, but that didn’t change his surprise at the words.

“Mike,” he started, moving his arm away, but Mike’s fingers tightened and Harvey let it drop.

“I wasn’t talking big, after the mock trial. I do–I need to figure out what kind of person I’m going to be, and maybe that’s more important than figuring out what kind of lawyer I’m going to be, I don’t know.” Mike took a deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize why I even have the chance to be someone different, someone other than the guy holding it together with tape and a piece of gum. I don’t know how to be the person I need to be for this job, because I’ve never–I didn’t get to go to college to figure shit out, Harvey, I just knew that I had to make rent for my grandma before I made rent for myself. I never held down a job, I never got the piece of paper that lets you through the door no matter how smart you are. And there’s a learning curve here that I’m still figuring out exists, because for the first time in my life I don’t have to put my stuff behind everyone else’s.”

Mike’s thumb rested on the back of Harvey’s hand, and it made a quick, nervous sweep over the skin. “You know who you are,” Mike said, and Harvey almost ducked closer to make out the quiet words. “I never had that luxury. I’m still working it out. But I have a good example.”

One more sweep, a light squeeze, and Mike dropped Harvey’s hand to pick up the glass the bartender had placed in front of him long minutes ago.

Harvey couldn’t look away from the soft line of his profile.

“Tonight, I lost someone who’s been in my life longer than just about everyone else I know,” Harvey found himself saying. “There’s not many people who knew me before.”

Mike looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Was that your ‘Hotel Vintage, Room 842, 2PM to 8PM?” he asked, something of his cheek returning.

Harvey raised an eyebrow as he raised his glass.

Mike tapped his temple with a finger. “I read your calendar, boss. Words are words.”

Harvey couldn’t help himself; he chuckled a little, shaking his head. This kid. He leaned back in his chair, hooking an arm around the back. He didn’t miss Mike’s eyes darting down to the part of Harvey’s shirt where two buttons were freed, and Harvey smirked. This was familiar ground.

“I suppose I could have been slightly more attentive during your first mock trial,” he allowed.

“Rather than holing up with your opposing counsel and not answering your phone for two days?” Mike asked. He clearly didn’t realize that his own eyebrow was raised in imitation of Harvey’s own expression, and Harvey let his smirk widen.

“Did you miss me, rookie?” he asked, and he could hear the rough thread of arousal in his own voice. Fuck, he’d had too much to drink and too much time to think.

Mike shifted in his chair, and when he turned to look at Harvey his eyes had darkened and his grip on his glass had tightened. “How do you want me to answer that, Harvey?” he answered.

Harvey knocked back the rest of his Macallan and rose, pulling out his wallet and throwing down a couple of twenties. “Not at all,” he said abruptly, clapping a hand on Mike’s shoulder as he made to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mike.”

He threaded his hands into his pockets and walked, straight and steady, out to the curb on Columbus and thrust a hand out for a cab. One ducked out of traffic to meet him, and when he opened the door he blinked with surprise when Mike hopped in before he could.

Mike looked at him from inside, his stupid bag creasing the lapel of his jacket, and said firmly, “Get in the cab, Harvey.”

“This is a bad idea, Mike,” Harvey said, shaking his head. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is a bad idea.”

“Buddy, are you getting in or out?” cut in the driver, his voice an annoyed burr.

Mike grabbed Harvey’s hand where it rested by his side and tugged. “C’mon,” he said. “I do know one thing. I want to be here. Don’t you?”

God fucking dammit. Harvey got in the cab.

They made it to Harvey’s condo in a careful silence, the radio the only sound in the cab. Mike paid before Harvey could get out his wallet, and Harvey eyed him as they made their way past the doorman and up the elevator. Harvey’s hands didn’t shake as he keyed in the code to open the door. He went straight to the kitchen and got two glasses, filling them with ice and water. Mike took his in silence, and they drank facing the glittering sweep of the city before them.

Just as Harvey was about to change his mind, push Mike towards the couch and stagger to his bed, Mike took the glass from his hand, shrugged out of his jacket, and stepped close into Harvey’s personal space. “I told you,” he said, laughter somewhere in his voice, “I have a good example.” He drew his hand up, fingers ducking into the skin at the hollow of Harvey’s throat and up to curve around the back of Harvey’s neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was shockingly chaste, just the warm press of Mike’s lips to his own, and Harvey’s heart tripped and stuttered wildly. Mike ducked his head to the side, his tongue coming out to swipe against Harvey’s mouth, and Harvey sucked in a harsh breath before latching on to Mike and pulling him flush. Mike let out some incredible sound, and Harvey deepened the kiss, fingers clutching the awful synthetic fabric of Mike’s shirt as if he could draw him even closer.

They kissed like that, wanton and desperate with each other, next to Harvey’s kitchen island with a thousand different reasons not to do this between them and every chance to stop. But Harvey couldn’t remember the last time his heart had been broken, couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this with someone he’d brought into his house, and Scotty closing the door on him earlier tonight had wrenched something free in him that he hadn’t anticipated.

He wanted. He wanted, badly, and Mike was offering it as though it was always Harvey’s to take. And Harvey never said he was a good man.

When they parted, their breath was harsh between them. A high flush had crept along Mike’s fair skin, and his eyes had that same dark look they’d had at the bar. “What you do to me,” he said, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip, “god, fuck, it’s like you light everything on fire, how do you live this way–”

“I don’t,” Harvey said shortly, thumb working the buttons of Mike’s shirt and and tugging at Mike’s belt simultaneously. Mike got the picture and started in on Harvey’s suit; to his credit, he hung it over the chair after carefully folding it, which made Harvey want to kiss him senseless again.

So he did. What was one error more? He got Mike down to his shorts and socks, trying not be exasperated that the socks didn’t match even as he lets his hands roam the planes of Mike’s chest. Mike had a look on his face that was akin to reverence, and Harvey wanted to shake him out of it. He was no man’s god.

He steered them back towards his bed, pulled the duvet back and pushed Mike down. He looked aglow on the cream-coloured sheets, panting and flushed with his cock pushing upwards. Harvey knelt between his legs, gratified by the moan that drew from Mike, and pulled Mike’s shorts down, tossing the socks over his shoulder. He ran his hands up Mike’s long, lean legs, brushing the fine hair of his thighs on the way and liking how that made Mike squirm.

“I’m going to suck you off,” Harvey said lowly, watching Mike’s mouth drop open.

“God, yes please,” Mike said fervently, spreading his legs without being told.

Sucking cock wasn’t something Harvey did that often–for all that he liked to have a flashy woman on his arm, he didn’t sleep around all that much for simple lack of time or interest. But when he did, he wasn’t especially discriminating as to gender. Pretty, willing, and eager were the primary criteria, and it wasn’t too hard to find.

This, though–Mike. Mike felt long in his mouth, and he wrapped his hand around the base of Mike’s cock to keep him steady as he jacked him while he sealed his lips around the head. He pressed his tongue up against the underside and put an arm across Mike’s hips to hold him down. Taking more into his mouth, he let the head rub against his upper palate. He could feel Mike’s toes curl where they were braced against his knees.

He could feel Mike tense, the pulse-beat beneath his fingers increasing, and pulled off with an obscene, wet sound, gripping the base of Mike’s cock with the ring of his thumb and fingers. Mike looked wrecked, splayed out on Harvey’s bed with his hands clenched in the sheets, breathing like he had run a marathon. Harvey licked his lips, the taste and scent of Mike on his tongue, and he squeezed a little bit to watch Mike buck with nowhere to go.

“Harvey,” Mike said desperately, “I’m going to, I need to,”

“Mike,” he said, a hint of reprove in his voice, “did you think I wouldn’t have things to teach you here, too?”

Something hot and wild shot up through Mike at his words, and he struggled to push himself up from the bed. Harvey still held his cock tightly, and Mike carefully sat up. He brought his hands to frame Harvey’s face, and his thumb dragged across Harvey’s mouth like an echo from the bar earlier that night. Mike looked at him intently, like he was reading something in the lines of Harvey’s face, and after a moment of that he ducked his head down to press his lips against Harvey’s.

It was the same kiss again, chaste and heartfelt. Harvey hadn’t been kissed like that since he’d been too young to know better, and his hand dropped from around Mike’s cock to curve around his waist. Something settled between them then. Something settled in Harvey, and he pushed up, moving to straddle Mike, who’d fallen backwards at the motion.

He just looked, and Mike let him, until Harvey took Mike’s cock in hand against and started jerking him off. It was slick from Harvey’s mouth, and Harvey made his fist tight as he drew it up and down. Mike liked that, from the way he struggled against Harvey pinning him down, and it took one, two strokes before Mike drew into a taut curve and came over Harvey’s hand.

Harvey watched Mike pant and work through it, and took his hand to himself, using Mike’s come to slick his way. He was rigid, from being untouched and sucking Mike’s cock and the sight of bringing him off. It took barely anything to get him there, and he let it crest over him and fall onto the soft skin of Mike’s stomach. His thighs were locked around Mike, and Mike was watching him beneath hooded eyes. Harvey shakily drew his hand from himself, and placed it onto Mike, palming their commingled come and pressing it into Mike’s skin.

Mike let him. His breath picked back up again at the sight of it, and finally Harvey let himself tip forward to carefully splay himself over Mike. They stared at each other for a long moment, until Mike tilted his head up for a kiss and Harvey had little choice but to give it to him.

When they parted, Harvey levered himself to Mike’s side, landing on his back and closing his eyes, resisting the urge to scrub at his face. This was not where he’d intended to end up tonight.

But when Mike tucked himself into the curve of Harvey’s side, his arm falling across Harvey’s chest, Harvey didn’t hesitate to bring his arm around Mike’s shoulders.

This was still a bad idea, but Harvey had never made a habit of living with regret.

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