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There is a dark cloud surrounding Mike, he is aware. He has been in a mood ever since he was expelled from college, and his scholarship to Harvard was revoked, as well as his name blacklisted from the prestigious school.
All for the stupid fucking answers of math test sold to the wrong person.
Trevor is apologetic enough about the whole thing not to bemoan him about the bad attitude, but it’s clear he is getting tired of his bullshit. It’s just, he doesn’t have where to stand to say anything. It was his idea after all.
Since there is nothing for Mike to do – and he can’t bring himself to care – he spends his days staring dazedly at the walls while he gets stoned out of his mind and tries not to think about his future down the drain.
He still doesn’t even know how he will tell his grammy the crushing news.
For a change, Trevor doesn’t even try to lift his mood up before leaving for his classes, only sending him a look full of pity and he is out the door.
Mike doesn’t care. There is no one that feels as much pity towards himself, than himself.
Maybe Jenny, Trevor’s new girlfriend.
Who had almost become his girlfriend, if it hadn’t been for Trevor, who purposefully got in between them when Mike clearly had better chemistry with her. But with the bro code and all that, Mike had stepped aside.
He is no longer bitter about that fact... except, now that he also lost his education, he just can’t help but feel everything goes sideways for him.
Like it doesn’t matter how much he tries, how much better he knows he is than everyone else, he is never going to get far at all.
Does that make him sound arrogant or conceited?
It’s a depressing thought, but one that has been circling his mind lately.
Well, one of the many depressing thoughts that have been circulating his mind on the daily.
He heaves a sigh, eyes unseeingly staring at the ceiling while he hugs a couch cushion to his chest. The only thing in his mind right now is to either get high or take a nap, and none sound that appealing. There is an itch under his skin that he can’t scratch, and it makes him feel powerless.
He won’t change a thing wallowing in his misery, but he doesn’t know where to even start to pick up the pieces of his life and put them back together.
A key scratching on the lock when it’s twisted inside suddenly startles him from his musings and he turns his gaze to stare. It can’t be Trevor, he just left no less than 20 minutes ago to take his afternoon classes, and he will be back for dinner. When the door opens, he is partly surprised to find Jenny, who doesn’t look at all surprised at the sight of Mike wallowing on Trevor’s couch.
That clearly means Trevor sent her to cheer him up or at least keep him entertained until he is back.
She smiles at him apologetically and with some pity. Nothing new.
The least he can do is return the smile and act decent enough with her because it is not her fault that Mike’s life took the turn it did.
“Hey Mike, how are you feeling today?” she asks, walking inside a little bit tentatively and staring at him as if he is a spooked animal.
He almost wants to roll his eyes at her but refrains doing that mean gesture. She is too sweet to not be hurt by something like that. Wanting to fake some normalcy, he straightens on the couch and shrugs.
“Been better.” He pats the seat next to him and smiles a little, urging her to get comfortable.
“I know,” she sighs, as if all of this it’s her fault, then drops next to him and hugs one of his arms, her head laying gently on his shoulder. “Is there anything that I can do to cheer you up?” she asks after some time.
He thinks for a moment and afterwards shakes his head. “Nah, I just need to get my head back in the game.” The smirk on his face and the quote, makes Jenny giggle.
“You could always try a fresh start to get things moving.”
“How so?”
She shrugs and thinks for a moment. “Like, do something completely new. Reinvent something about you. Something like that always help with confidence.”
“Err, I don’t see how?”
She rolls her eyes at him and turns slightly on the couch to stare intently, letting go of his arm. “It’s common for people to want to change maybe their haircut or hair colour or style when they feel like they need to start over.” She explains, eyebrows rising meaningfully.
He stares, thinking. “Are you saying that I should dye my hair or what?” he asks, skeptical.
“Well, you could try.”
“How is that going to help?” It makes no sense to him; what exactly would that accomplish?
“It won’t do much, but it will give you a new perspective about yourself. Something to focus on. Something you can control and project with confidence.”
“Have you done that?”
“Duh. I used to rock red-dye hair back in high school.” She admits, cheeks pinking slightly.
Make gapes at her in surprise. “Really?”
She nods. “What do you say? Want to try that? I can help give you a full makeover. That way, you stop thinking about the past and instead, you focus in the new you and whatever new plans you have.”
Mike ponders on her words for a moment, deciding if that is something that could help him or just a waste of time. He is aware that it would have impact perhaps psychologically; it would be like breaking a pattern of his old self and have the meaningful representation of starting anew but at the same time, it’s not like it’s going to help fix his problems if he suddenly has brown or red hair.
Still, there is nothing for him to do at the moment, and the idea sounds kind of appealing, so he nods and Jenny beams at him, immediately pulling him up from the couch and towards the door.
++++
She takes him to a ShopRite and after perusing all the different hair dyes available, he decides on a simple black one. Jenny is kind of impressed by his bold choice, but he just shrugs and says that it could be considered the opposite of his blond hair. After that, she convinces him to get black eyeliner and even black nail polish. He isn’t too kin on the idea, but she swears that if he doesn’t like the result, he can always remove it afterwards.
He acquiesces after that.
Jenny seems giddy with anticipation once they get back to Trevor’s place and they immediately get to work. They put some music in the background, Mike removes his shirt and takes a seat in a chair at the kitchen counter while Jenny handles the rest expertly, gossiping all the while about her friends or classes, and overall, keeping Mike distracted, her hands moving all over his head dying his hair. They purposely didn’t choose the bathroom to do this so Mike could be surprised once done, and so, half an hour later, she has finished. She doesn’t dye his eyebrows, saying they look good lighter than his hair, and Mike trusts her.
Next is the nail polish while they wait for the hair dye to get the recommended time on his hair, and honestly, it’s not something he totally likes on him, but Jenny seems too happy painting his nails with such care that he just lets her. At least, she gets to be happy helping on his impromptu makeover.
Trevor gets back just when Mike is exiting the shower and is completely stunned at the change of his hair colour, staring agape and with slightly furrowed eyebrows at him like he doesn’t recognize him. Jenny, however, is delighted and immediately compliments him, telling him he looks edgy and like a completely new Mike.
The reflection he sees on the mirror is as surreal as new, and although it will take a while to get used to, he kinda likes it.
“Man, really?” asks Trevor, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom with a deadpan expression. Mike stares at him through the mirror and shrugs.
“It looks nice.”
Trevor’s grimace makes Mike roll his eyes and he decides to just leave.
“Dick.” He mumbles while shoving the guy out of his way and exiting the bathroom, quick to gather his clothes and the stuff he got at the supermarket, Jenny staring worriedly between him and Trevor.
He only smiles at her and kisses her goodbye on the cheek, then leaves, ignoring how Trevor calls his name right before the door closes behind him.
Honestly? Something good and new for a change. The old Mike would have try to lighten the mood with Trevor, joke to mellow him and overall, putting Trevor’s opinions and feelings above him.
Well, no more. Doesn’t matter how much of a best friend Trevor says he is, he either starts acting like one, or Mike will no longer bother with him.
As soon as he gets back to his place, he starts making a list of things to do.
Well, things the new Mike should do.
He starts easy enough.
Get another job, besides the one he currently has as bike messenger, get back on his feet, try to finish college either by taking online classes or applying somewhere else and tell his grammy the news. Own the fact he fucked up, and he will try his darndest to fix it.
That week, he looks and asks around for any kind of job, and he ends up with one that has flexible enough hours and adapts quite well with his current job. He starts as a bartender at a dingy local bar near his home that is always packed to the brim with people wanting to get wasted almost daily. The tips are good even if the cleaning afterwards is a drag.
Next, he visits his grammy who is not only completely taken by surprise, but also, incredibly delighted with his new change of hair colour and addition of black nail-polish and eyeliner. Her compliments definitively make Mike feel good, and a little more confident with himself, and surprisingly, even though she is saddened by the fact he got expelled and lost his scholarship, only asks Mike to try and do his best. If he needs to cut Trevor off, he should do it now more than ever, she suggests.
Mike nods silently, – unsure of getting rid of one of his oldest and dearest friends – so he doesn’t verbally answer, and he knows that his grammy knows he won’t listen to her on that. Still, she changes the topic and talks about the latest gossip from the other residents, mood light enough that Mike can smile and laugh with her for the rest of his visit.
It takes him some time to get used to the fact his day is busy most of the time, either by delivering things or by serving drinks, but he manages. The expenses however, kind of pile up and barely let him scrap by, even with surviving on street-cart food or instant ramen. He gets thinner everyday, cutting on meals and trying to save enough for school, even if he doesn’t think he will even have the time to attend it with his crazy schedule.
Jenny swings by occasionally, noticing how ragged he looks, and eventually starts showing up with dinner or breakfast whenever she is able to catch Mike taking a breath to rest a little before heading out the door and starting all over again.
That’s the only reason he manages to eat at least once a day.
Trevor is a no-show during that whole time, and Jenny promises he is only trying to give Mike space to get his life in order. Mike is skeptical about that but doesn’t comment either way, changing the topic and making Jenny promise to hung out at the bar he works at.
Sometimes he catches Jenny staring at him a little bit more than she used to, and every time she only blushes and says his eyes really pop with the eyeliner, deflecting the awkward comment while adding something like she ‘wishes she could rock that look the way he does’. Mike wonders if maybe there is more on her mind but never dares to ask. Even if Trevor and him are not on speaking terms, he is still his friend and he will respect that.
That’s why, he gets the genius idea to look for someone to get his mind off Jenny and her pretty smile and kind attitude.
Not precisely a girlfriend, since he isn’t at a time in his life he thinks he could manage something serious. But maybe a one-night stand that makes him forget of the fact he is maybe a bit in love with his best friend’s girlfriend.
As lame as that is.
One random Tuesday, the guy that is his manager – Sam –gets close to him and pulls him aside right before he starts his shift at the bar, looking around with suspicion before staring at him.
“Hey Mike, remember how you are supposed to be free this Friday?” he starts with, and Mike internally groans. Goodbye Friday night of smoking weed and chilling after weeks of non-stop working.
He nods, dejected already.
“Would you like to make double what you do here in a week?” Now that, catches his attention and he stares wide eyed at Sam.
“How? Why?” suspicion creeps in his voice and he squints now, trying to read the guy. He gets a smirk in response.
“Chill man, it’s a gig. There is going to be some kind of high-end event at a friend’s venue way over in Manhattan and he wants some people that he can trust to be professional.” He looks Mike over from head to toe, assessing, then nods satisfied. “You have learned quite quickly the ropes around here and I know you can do with the extra money.”
Mike feels completely delighted at the offer and incredibly moved at the fact that Sam remembered what Mike told him about his current monetary struggles. There is of course no reason for the guy to blindly believe Mike, but he does and has been nothing but supportive to him.
“Sure, yeah. Anything I can do to help, I’m in.”
Sam nods and pats him on the arm with a smile. “Great, I will text you the details. They will give you a uniform when you get there, so please be sure to arrive on time to get it and catch all the instructions they will give you.”
Mike nods eagerly and once dismissed, starts his shift with a spring on his step.
Maybe it means he won’t be able to rest and recharge like he needs to, but it means he will make an amount of money that could help loosen the rope around his neck enough to breathe.
On the day in question, he finishes his deliveries early and hurries to get to the bar just when he is scheduled. He doesn’t bother omitting the eyeliner, but he does remove the nail polish as best as he can, although most of it is already chipped away. At the minimum, he is expecting some kind of scolding for boldly showing up with black eyeliner around his eyes, but once there, he only gets a nod of acknowledgement, a question regarding his name, and then they hand him his uniform, the typical bartender white shirt, with black slacks and a matching vest. Lucky him, he didn’t get any kind of shoes, so he puts on his trusty faded black converse.
The uniform fits snug around his body, but if you squint, you can tell it’s still loose around him due to his thin frame.
The other bartenders and waiters are all a combination of people either some years younger than him, or older, and all have this air of expertise that Mike isn’t sure he can put on. Everything seems so serious and overall, way more elegant than he is used to so he copies the rest and puts on a mask.
Surprisingly, he manages quite well with the given instructions. He is situated at the far end of the bar with three other guys and two girls. The bar itself is long and doesn’t seem to finish, all made of dark rich wood that looks polished and smooth, the wall behind it lined with tons of different expensive drinks that Mike stares at with awe.
It’s easy for him to learn where everything is, and all the extra recipes of drinks he doesn’t know from his previous short experience as bartender.
Some two hours later, the owner groups everyone and gives a short speech about expecting professionalism and servitude, reminds them about the security available in case someone gets difficult and promises that they will split the tips in case there are any. Since this is technically an event, tips are not expected, but it’s common for some people to still want to tip if they feel generous.
Mike doesn’t even care, he is going to make an amazing amount of money just to work for like six hours, and he doesn’t even have to stay to clean, there is a special crew for that.
Manhattan venues are on a completely different level, he thinks to himself.
Right when the clock indicates it’s seven o’clock, the people start arriving and Mike is surprised at the sight of gorgeous women wearing long gowns and using expensive accessories and jewels while most men wear either tuxedos or super expensive looking suits.
Just who organized the event?
At first, he thinks that the people, being all rich and elegant, will most likely pace themselves with their drinks, but he ends up being wrong. It doesn’t matter that there are waiters walking around distributing wine or champagne, people flock to the bar in hoards and get all kind of elaborate drinks.
Mike flirts here and there, getting some generous tips on the jar of his section just by sending sexy smirks and batting his baby blue eyes. He even gets several compliments on the eyeliner surrounding them, which he wasn’t expecting but still accepts humbly with grace.
By the time the half-way mark ticks by, Mike is starting to feel some stiffness on his legs and lower back, and so he eagerly waits for his moment to take his promised 30-minute break.
As soon as his cover arrives, he slips inconspicuously away and walks towards the side room where he finds a packaged lunch with his name on it. Honestly, best job ever. He practically scarfs down the sandwich and finishes his bottle of water in record time, completely famished after skipping lunch and only having a pretzel as breakfast. He uses the rest of his break time to quickly visit the bathroom and pee, enjoying the pear scented soap and automated hand drier.
He also grabs one of the complementary mints in a bowl on the sink.
Just when he is exiting the bathroom, someone is coming in and he crashes awkwardly against a man wearing a tux and a frown on his face. Because of Mike or something prior to their encounter, Mike isn’t sure, but he still apologizes profusely and moves away to let the man enter without him blocking the way. The man, so incredibly handsome that Mike’s breath gets momentarily stuck on his throat once he makes eye-contact with him, stares only for a minute longer than necessary and only nods at him in acknowledgment before disappearing in the vast bathroom.
Mike stands dumbly for some time and then snaps out of his daze and walks out, cheeks flushed at the unexpected rush of...he isn’t sure what. What exactly was that? He felt overwhelmed, hot and breathless for a whole minute while staring at those incredibly captivating brown eyes. Something that didn’t happen to him since...Jenny.
Is it possible that he is interested in men?
The idea seems so crazy he almost grimaces in real life instead of keeping his thoughts to himself. At the last moment, he schools his face and gets back to work, the epitome of professionalism while thinking about that guy that made his legs feel like jelly for a hot second.
Another hour goes by and he is still hung up on that memory, his eyes searching around every now and then to try and catch a glimpse of the mysterious man. For what reason? He doesn’t know, maybe to confirm if the man really makes his stomach coil and churn inside him.
He is just finishing a Shirley temple when he notices from the corner of his eye a new person to serve, so he hurries to slide the glass towards the woman with a very prominent and eye-catching cleavage, sending a teasing wink in her direction before turning his attention to the new-comer and freezing when he meets eyes again with the man he crashed against in the bathroom earlier.
The man is looking at him assessingly and after seeing something he likes in Mike, he smiles in such a sexy and cocky way, that if Mike had been wearing any panties, those would have dropped to the floor in a heartbeat. As dumb and impossible as it sounds.
Silence stretches awkwardly and then Mike remembers himself. He clears his throat and tries to smile professionally, “What can I get you sir?” he asks, getting closer and leaning slightly over the bar, naturally drawn to the other man.
“Macallan 18, on the rocks.” His voice is smooth and low, as well as commanding and sexy, and Mike swallows hard before nodding, immediately moving to obey the request, feeling the gaze of the man on him like a physical touch.
His hands slightly shake when pouring the scotch and he tries to calm down to not fuck up. He is so close to completing his shift; he doesn’t need to ruin it just because a hot guy is looking hungrily at him.
Wait, what?
Mike looks up and yes, the guy is looking at him with eyes dark and hungry, a sideways smirk spread across his lips.
Without thinking, he bites his lip, his fingers carefully sliding the glass towards the man and handing him a napkin as an afterthought, eyes never breaking away from the other guy’s intense stare.
When he feels his face start to heat up however, he deems it necessary to look away, eyes now staring at the people mingling around the venue, talking, laughing or conspiring secretly here and there. Curiosity gets the best of him, even more so after he caughts a glance at some of the attendees and notices they are renowned Judges or CEO’s from gross-earning corporations.
“So, what’s the event for?” he asks casually, aware that the other guy is looking at him while sipping his drink. Mike busies himself drying none-existent water-stains from the wooden bar.
The man turns his head back around, staring at the people drinking their weight in alcohol and sighs with what seems to be boredom, his hand swirling the ice of his drink absentmindedly. “It’s Pearson Hardman’s annual gala for the New York Legal Aid Society.”
Mike nods to himself, eyebrows rising on his forehead while his hands wring the semi-wet cloth he holds, sight staring unseeingly now at the venue in general. “Right. That explains the room full of thousand-dollar-an-hour corporate lawyers eating fifty-dollar canapés. And all to supposedly raise money for people who can't afford a public defender.”
The man turns his head towards him, eyebrow raised. “It’s a charity event, kid. We give them a tax write-off, they give us good PR.”
“It’s not just PR,” Mike says, looking at him straight on, his voice dropping into a quick, rhythmic tempo while getting a bit worked up. “You have six judges from the Southern District sitting in the VIP lounge,” he nods towards a crystal only room full of men laughing about something that is most likely not even funny, “Three Fortune 100 CFOs at the head table,” his head turns to stare at one of the biggest round tables he has ever seen, full not only by them, but their wives, and every vulture trying to get them into their pocket, “And apparently every employee of a firm that was named Band 1 for Corporate Litigation in Chambers, as well as having Am Law put their profits per partner in the top five in New York last year.” Mike turns back to look the other man in the eye. “You’re not raising money for legal aid,” Mike adds dryly. “You’re creating a neutral zone where you can soft-pitch corporate litigation to clients in front of the very judges who are going to preside over their docket next quarter. It’s brilliant. Under section 501(c)(3) of the tax code, the firm writes off the venue, and you buy implicit judicial goodwill over free scotch.”
The man stays silent for a second, then an amused smirk appears on his face that slowly and casually shifts into something sharper, full of curiosity now.
“You picked all of that up while handing out gin and tonics?” he asks softly.
Mike shrugs, hands finally putting down the cleaning cloth he had in his hands; leans into the bar nonchalantly. “It’s not hard to identify the people that make the news as often as they do. And I read the tax code when I was bored.” He fears he has come off as rude, because the other man just keeps staring him down. So, he puts on a smile and nods at him. “Anything else I can get you?” he asks, stepping back into his role of bartender.
The quiet seconds it takes the other man to respond are enough for Mike to notice how he is being looked at with the triangle method, making Mike’s throat get dry and his cheeks heat in an unprompted blush.
“Your name?”
“Mike.”
“Mike,” he drawls, tone of voice seductive. “When do you get off?” he asks casually, and Mike can only stare, slightly agape, mind quickly thinking a thousand things at once. What just happened? He was being a condescending prick a second ago, and that seems to have catch the other’s guy attention?
Focusing back on the question directed at him he wonders if he should answer. If he answers, is he going to get some kind of proposition? If he does, is he willing to accept?
He stares at the man a little wide eyed, taking in the amazing way the tux hugs his body, and how he is one of the most gorgeous men he has ever seen.
Maybe old Mike would have never consider the option, but now? He is almost wondering what ‘Old Mike’ would NOT do and headfirst to do the opposite.
Actually, scratch that. That’s exactly what he will do.
“Uhm, past 1AM, give or take.” He says after what seemed like a very long time. The man nods at him once, lips moving to the edge of the glass to sip at his scotch, gaze fixed on Mike. He can see the way his throat bobs up and down when he swallows, and Mike gets the sudden urge to let his tongue lick along that tan neck. He bites his lip hard to try and focus himself but that only makes the man’s gaze darken considerably.
“Would you like a ride home then?” the words sound innocent enough, if they were coming from a friend. But from a stranger he just met, it’s a whole different proposition. In a daze, Mike nods.
“Yeah, I would like that.” He whispers, hands holding tight against the bar.
The man nods and stands from the highchair he had occupied. “See you then.” He says, and winks at him, turning away afterwards like he didn’t make Mike’s brain melt out of his ears and his face burst into flames.
He can hardly believe he accepted a proposition so casually. And from a man!
But this is what he wanted. Or needed. Or both.
And he promised to himself that he would look around for the chance to get Jenny out of his head. And by God, that man was exactly what Mike needed to get his mind completely blank just by looking at him with naked lust.
The rest of his shift there is a buzz thrumming inside him, making him move a little bit more jerkily than before and nervously talk with the patrons asking for drinks. He is feeling a combination of both excitement and fear.
Excitement, because it is something new for him. And with someone that looks way out of Mike’s league. And fear, well, because it’s something completely new to him; until some hours ago, he was convinced he was straight. Now...now he wants to get down and dirty with that guy he just met. And who never gave Mike his name, now that he thinks about it.
Right before the night wraps up, a girl with dark brown hair and a pretty smirk gets close to Mike and asks for a dirty martini. The way she looks at him reminds him of Jenny, so it’s easy to put on the charm and flirt, making her act shy and giggle occasionally. The way her eyes get hooded tell everything to Mike, and before he can even entertain the idea of asking for her number, he catches sight of the man he met earlier. He is nowhere near Mike or the bar, but still Mike sees him from afar, talking with a gorgeous tall woman in a long dark blue gown and a man with a rat-like face that is only grimacing at his soon-to-be one-night stand.
For a second, the man turns and looks at Mike, rising an eyebrow and smirking at him, making Mike’s stomach do a backflip and his throat to get dry. The woman still in-front of him seems to notice he is far-away so she just ends up thanking him for the drink and effortlessly walking away. Mike can’t feel too bad about that, when the thought of what will happen next is at the forefront of his mind.
“Hey man,” someone taps his shoulder and he turns, jumping slightly in surprise. “You can go back and change. We will start cleaning the bar and then split the tips and all that.”
Mike sighs and nods, sending a last look to the man that is already entertained in another conversation before walking to the back after the other guys that helped around the bar.
He waits around with the others, making small conversation while some start to change back to their regular clothes. After some time, he gets the chance to change as well so he quickly divests himself of the uniform given to him, and slides into his short-sleeve black t-shirt and the grey jeans Jenny gave him. Low cut that no longer fit her but since Mike is just on the err side of thin, he rocks them. They kinda suck due to the lack of front pockets, but the stretchy fabric is super comfy, and they look good on him.
Jenny said his ass looks amazing on them and he believes her.
Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, he checks on his wristwatch and groans quietly at the time. It’s 18 minutes past 1AM and he really hopes that the man that he is supposed to go home with waits for him.
After some time still waiting, the shift manager arrives and after verifying all the uniforms have been returned, he starts giving away the corresponding checks to each person there. Mike almost gasps in surprise at the amount written on his check but refrains, quickly slipping it into his wallet. Once everyone has their check, then comes the tips. Surprisingly, they gathered quite a good amount, and Mike ends up getting around 300 dollars in tips only, enough to stock up his fridge and save some.
Almost at 2AM, he is finally free to go, so he hurries to exit by the back and walks around the place, frantically searching for the guy in a tux. There are not that many people left, but the few that remain, are not him. From afar, he can see the brunette girl that reminded him of Jenny. Seems like she is waiting for a cab while talking on the phone, and for a moment, Mike considers getting close to her and maybe taking her home, just to put in motion his plan ‘Forget about Jenny’, but before he gets the courage to do so, a car stops next to him, and the window from the backseat slides down. When he looks, he is delighted to find the man in a tux smirking at him and motioning with his eyes to get in.
Mike doesn’t have to be told twice, he is already slipping into the smooth buttery leather of the back seat, sighing with excitement and staring at the man with wide interested eyes, hands nervously moving up and own his thighs to dry the sweat on them.
The man stares at him for a second too-long, a soft smile now on his lips, eyes a little hooded. Due to the alcohol or something else, Mike can’t be sure, but it’s a very tempting sight. It makes his cheeks heat up at the attention. “Where to?” he asks, reminding Mike that he had offered a ride to his place, however, there is too much of his real old self there, and he doesn’t feel like sharing his sacred space with a stranger.
“How about, we head back to your place?” he suggests in a whisper, his breath slightly shaky with nerves but faking a confident smirk, his hand moving to softly caress the other’s man thigh, trying hard not to seem inexperienced.
Seducing a man seems very different to seducing a girl. Or maybe that’s only his inexperience talking.
The older man rises an eyebrow at him in wonderment, then grins and nods, like he likes Mike’s boldness.
“Ray,” calls the man, “Let’s go home”. His voice sounds almost like a purr and just then Mike notices there is a driver. He suddenly feels very self-conscious, but before he can have the embarrassment consume him, the sliding partition comes up blocking the sight of the driver, and Mike can breathe a little more easily.
Out of sight, out of mind.
It then occurs to him that he doesn’t even know the man’s name and feels silly for just realizing that. Let’s his hand slide up the thigh he is resting on and looks more intently at the other man. “So, what should I call you?”
The smirk he gets in response is so sexy and breathtaking Mike almost pinches himself to not moan out-load. Jesus, why is this guy undoing him with every little gesture? Mike has better auto control than that for fucks sake.
“Harvey.” He drawls, amusement dancing in his eyes, clearly noticing how Mike wrestles with himself for a sense of normalcy and nonchalance.
Mike nods, enthralled, then mouths the name silently to himself, a smile stretching his lips with satisfaction. He casually leans back, taking some deep breaths to calm himself, grateful that there is some distance and his mind can clear a little. His hand slips to his own lap, suddenly too self-aware of himself sitting on that car next to a man that looks like his whole outfit is worth more than every possession Mike owns. Suddenly, his well-worn converse, second-hand jeans and washed-out t-shirt make him feel like he amounts to very little and wonders what exactly made Harvey look at him with interest.
He peeks at the other man, busy scrolling on his phone and starts regretting everything, eyes turn to focus on the passing buildings outside the window. Maybe he should have just gone home. He isn’t alien to one-night stands, but always with girls that seem to be on his level, not rich guys that clearly know what they want. Mike is a broke person trying to mend himself with work and a new plan for his life while this guy has most likely everything he ever wanted and more.
But… his gaze slips back to stare at Harvey; his handsome face, his gelled hair and his big hands easily maneuvering his phone. Everything about him calls to Mike and draws him in.
There is no way to know what exactly, maybe the fact he seems so sure of himself, like everything life throws at him, he can handle graciously. And it’s that security and confidence that makes Mike want to be near him, be led by him.
So, as soon as the town car stops at what seems to be the guy’s place, Mike has already made up his mind. It’s only going to be one night, what’s the worst that can happen? Have his whole life be shattered and rebuilt by an event that seems canonical in making Mike re-think his entire existence? Yeah sure.
“Let’s go.”
He obediently follows after Harvey, blushing slightly when a hand is neatly placed on his lower back and he is guided towards an elevator at the back of the building, the doorman only nodding politely at them, as if used to the sight of poor-dirt guys being dragged by successful elegant men living on 20 or so high end-class buildings.
The thought makes him feel slightly uncomfortable, but who is he to judge?
He stares by the corner of his eye at Harvey once they slip into the elevator, attentively looking when he presses the penthouse button on the panel and turns towards him, a dangerous smirk on his face. Mike is about to start awkward conversation, not sure of what to even talk about with the guy, when Harvey grabs him softly by the waist and kisses him deeply, stealing every breath out of his mouth and making him dizzy with the way his tongue easily slips into his mouth making him moan. There is an aftertaste of scotch and something else that Mike can’t pinpoint but it’s equally addictive as is arousing.
Harvey’s lips are soft and not as full as the women’s lips Mike has kissed in the past, but they mold to his own like they were made to, and move expertly and slowly, nipping his lower lip teasingly and guiding him in a sensual dance that make Mike’s head feel underwater.
His hand clutches the lapel of Harvey’s suit for dear life, and he has to break the kiss and lean back to take a generous breath of air. Right then, the elevator doors ding and open with a swish, so Harvey grabs him by the wrist and pulls him out and down a long corridor until reaching a wood door that is open hurriedly.
Mike almost pleads with Harvey to take it slow, but when his dark brown eyes look at him while he sheds his suit jacket, Mike completely forgets about any fear or uncertainty. He had already made up his mind, right?
Clearly Harvey is the more experienced between the two, so the smart thing to do is let him lead. So, he does that. Let’s himself be pulled by Harvey into another heated kiss, his hands sliding up to tangle along Harvey’s gelled hair, messing it up as much as he can, sucking on Harvey’s lower lip and biting it with a sigh when they break the kiss.
“Come on, let’s take this somewhere comfortable.” Harvey guides him deeper into his home, and Mike can barely pay attention at the décor of the living room or the elegance of the kitchen and…are those floor-to-ceiling windows? Before he knows it, they are in a bedroom as aesthetically pleasant as the exterior, with a big king-size bed done with light grey sheets and a fluffy-looking dark comforter on which Harvey throws Mike with ease.
Mike almost protests at the rough treatment, but he is too distracted with the softness under him to say anything. Then, his mouth snaps shut once he catches sight of Harvey undressing in front of him, cocky smirk in place once Mike’s whole attention is on him. He swallows hard and quickly gets in motion to remove his own garments, starting with the shoes and socks then moving to slip off his shirt.
Right then, Harvey climbs the bed and straddles him wearing only his black boxer briefs that tent obscenely with his hard-on. Mike can only stare in what he hopes is interest, and not complete apprehension. “Let me help you.” Harvey murmurs, hands sliding up Mike’s legs and down the front of his jeans, expertly moving along the zipper and then stopping and making Mike cock an eyebrow in question. “Are you wearing women’s jeans?” asks Harvey, eyes intently looking at Mike’s pants.
Mike chuckles a little in embarrassment. “Yeah,” he admits with a shrug and a timid smile. Harvey keeps staring, then suddenly turns Mike on his stomach making him gasp in surprise; he moves him so he is on his hands and knees, Harvey’s hands caressing his ass and the back of his thighs with reverence. “They look good on you,” he whispers, pressing heavily against Mike’s back, his covered cock rubbing against Mike’s butt and his naked chest flushed against Mike’s back, his breath hot and intimate next to his ear.
A body shudder goes down Mike’s spine and he gulps, fingers tightening on the sheets under him, then rocks back, letting his ass rub against Harvey’s hard-on and groaning at the feel of it.
“I think it would be best if we just get rid of them.” Suggests Mike in a breathy voice, eyes momentarily closing when he feels Harvey’s hands clamp down hard around his hips. Then, his jeans and underwear are being pulled down his legs roughly and the next time Harvey presses against him, he is lacking his underwear too, so Mike can feel the hot, heavy weight of his erection pressed against the crack of his ass making him gasp in surprise.
Harvey starts a slow rocking motion, letting his slippery cock slide teasingly all over Mike’s ass and for a moment he panics. Is he going to just shove it in? Isn’t there supposed to be some prep? He hums questioningly and swallows hard, body tensing while he decides what to do.
In the end, Harvey takes the rein again, and before Mike can ask or say anything, the older man has moved away to get something out of a drawer. When Mike peaks a look, he finds a bottle of lube laying next to him on the bed and he sighs in relief.
“Spread your legs for me,” commands Harvey from somewhere behind him, and Mike obliges a little nervously, then jumps in shock when something wet and warm licks his asshole, thumbs spreading it wide to let the appendage slip inside. A keen moan escapes his mouth in shock, and he shudders again, completely taken aback by having Harvey rimming him out of nowhere. His face slacks in pleasure though, the sensation of that expert tongue stretching him and licking him somewhere he never even dare to play with undoes him in a way he never expected.
His body heavily leans forward, arms folding to let him rest on his forearms, ass pushing back against Harvey’s face. A deep groan reverberates against his behind and he bites his lip hard. There is a bubbling laugh trying to rise from his chest, probably due to the nerves accumulating inside him, but he holds it in, instead moaning brokenly and stuttering Harvey’s name with uncertainty and a hint of a plead wrapped in it.
A finger teases the rim of his hole while the tongue still fucks into him, and Mike braces himself right before that finger slips inside making him groan, body tightening at the alien feel sliding deep inside him. Harvey’s hands caressing his sides and back help to make him lose the tension, and the finger starts thrusting in and out softly, rubbing against his walls and making him squirm, his own body betraying him and moving in sync with Harvey’s movements.
The finger slips out after some time, and Mike outright whines at the loss, because Harvey has also stop eating his ass, moving to grab the lube so he can slick his fingers.
“Harvey,” whines Mike in a whisper, his lips wrapping reverently around the name in a plead as if he had said it a thousand times before, perhaps in another life.
That is enough for Harvey to hurry, and slip two wet, slick fingers back into Mike’s tight hole to the last knuckle, and start a slow scissoring motion, spreading them as wide as he can, letting Mike rock back and forth against his hand tentatively, clearly lost in sensation.
“You are tight.” Comments Harvey conversationally and Mike bites his tongue to not sarcastically snap saying it’s his first time, of course he is tight. Harvey doesn’t need to know. He ends up blushing only and huffing quietly to himself.
When the third finger slips finally inside, Mike thinks he will tear down there. The stretch and burn is like nothing he expected. Harvey seems to sense his discomfort, so he relents, fingers moving slowly now, spreading carefully and methodically.
Mike slides a hand down his body, wraps it around his flagging dick and rubs it, trying to have his mind focus on something else. It works, even more so because Harvey finds his prostate again and rubs at it deliciously, making Mike’s body want to melt.
At last, the fingers disappear, and Harvey pulls Mike by the shoulder until he is kneeling, back resting against Harvey’s naked chest, his mouth busy sucking bruises on his neck and leaving wet trails of saliva towards his ear, lips sucking gently on the earlobe. “Are you ready?” he asks, voice husky and making Mike shiver in anticipation. He turns slightly to stare at Harvey and nods, lips half-open in wonder when he feels the nudge of Harvey’s cock against his stretched hole, then, it slips in, slow and deep. Harvey never breaks eye contact with him, and that makes Mike blush all over, his body completely taking on a red hue from his chest to his neck, to his whole face. Mike turns away then, overwhelm, and outright moans in delight at the fullness, clenching his ass unconsciously.
It feels big, or at least bigger than what he imagined when he saw Harvey in his underwear moments ago.
It also burns even more than three fingers, but it feels amazing too for some reason. Maybe he is just made to take dick up the ass. Harvey’s cock seems Godsend right now, slipping in and out of him in careful, slow thrusts.
“Fuck, Harvey.” He curses, shaking slightly, head tilting back until he has it resting over Harvey’s shoulder, eyes closed tight in ecstasy. When Harvey’s hands move over his body, Mike is done for. One hand teases his left nipple, pulling at it carefully and rolling it with a thumb intermittently; the other wraps around his bouncing dick, quickly moving up and down along the redden length in tandem with Harvey’s quick thrusts. Mike can only hold on to Harvey’s thigh with one hand, nails digging against the soft flesh, trying to pull him deeper inside, his other hand playing with his other neglected nipple, moans and whines escaping his bitten lips in a crescendo that any other time would have make him feel embarrassed but here, wrapped by Harvey’s strong arms and sure movements, he feels at ease.
He can feel Harvey’s heartbeat reverberating against his back, beating a wild rhythm that his own starts to follow in tandem.
“Harder, God, fuck me harder.” He begs, voice breaking around a groan.
Harvey easily complies, the man multitasking with an ease that impresses Mike. His hips move erratically, quickly getting his cock in and out of Mike’s hole, his mouth busy licking and biting along the expanse of Mike’s neck, hands playing with Mike’s cock and nipple like he knows every nook and cranny he needs to fiddle with to completely undo him with his hands, his lips, his perfect cock.
“Let me see you.” whispers Harvey next to his ear, breath hot and like an enchanting song. Mike nods. He wants to see him too.
Harvey decreases the velocity of his thrusts until he fully stops, then pulls out and turns Mike on his back, letting him lay there, all weak and at his mercy. Smirks down at him, as if aware of what he is doing to him.
He then pauses, takes a second look, and a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.
"Well, looks like the drapes don't match the carpet." He says, eyebrows raised. Mike looks down, notices the light brown color of his pubes and laughs softly; shrugs with a face that says ‘So?’.
Harvey shakes his head with amusement, grabs Mike’s legs and parts them wide, easily slipping his cock back inside into the tight heat that is Mike’s clamping hole, a gasp leaving Mike’s lips in surprise and relief.
A particularly good thrust hits dead on against Mike’s prostate and he wails softly, tears gathering at the edge of his eyes while pleasure shakes his whole body. Harvey lowers himself until he is holding his weight above Mike with his forearms next to his head, completely enraptured with the sight Mike makes, all undone under him.
“You are gorgeous.” He says, voice worshipful. Mike opens his eyes to stare at Harvey with wonderment and something else that makes his heart beat crazily against his ribcage. He bites his lip, arms coming to wrap around Harvey’s back, nails digging painfully and leaving half-moon imprints there, then red welts when Mike slides them down, completely gone with the rocking movement of Harvey’s hips increasing, his cock pounding hard and fast into Mike as if created for just that.
It’s a little awkward, and intimate, when Harvey starts to slow down, and Mike grows self-conscious on how they are moving together with the tempo that Harvey has taken; even more so, when Harvey lowers his head and his lips wrap teasingly around a swollen nipple, licking and biting it, his hot breath a contrast against the cooling saliva on it. The same rough treatment is given to the other one, and Mike now has a hand pushing Harvey’s head harder against his chest, liking the attention bestow there. Love bites and licks are left in a trail while Harvey moves upwards, some more kisses peppering around Mike’s clavicle and neck until he directs those sinful lips to his and has Harvey kiss him deep and dirty.
His toes curl deliciously at a particularly well aimed thrust, and Mike whines against Harvey’s mouth, making him smirk and direct all and every shove of his cock towards that spot while increasing the pace once more. Mike doesn’t even have time to wrap a hand around his dick when he is already spurting white all over their chests, ass clenching hard, and back arching prettily under Harvey, whole body seizing in world-shattering bliss, eyes crossing and mouth breaking the kiss to widen in a silent groan.
Harvey follows him practically the next second, completely taken by the sight under him and the amazing tightness around his cock, face scrunching up with tension when his orgasm crashes against him hard and sudden, hips erratically still thrusting into the enveloping heat surrounding him until it’s unbearable and he gets to enjoy the afterglow enough for him to let his body sag deliciously against Mike.
He takes a few breaths and then slips out but not away, moving to hold his weight on his arms. He wants to continue watching Mike’s slack face of pure elation, cheeks red with an endearing heavy flush and the black eyeliner all smudge on his face. The careful make-up is now a black mess smeared on his heated cheeks and has gathered on the corner of his eyes.
A careful hand caress Mike’s cheek softly, making him blink open his eyes slowly and have Harvey’s breath stutter at the sight of the most beautiful blue eyes he has ever seen.
“You know, for a guy trying to look like a badass punk, you make a remarkably pretty mess." He teases in a soft voice, and Mike blinks at him, then smiles sheepishly, lets Harvey lean down for a slow, chaste kiss that makes him curl his toes.
When the kiss breaks, Harvey raises enough to stare at Mike, making him feel very shy all of a sudden,
“Well, that was fun.” He says, trying to break the sudden silence.
Harvey smirks at him, nods. “Yeah, that hit the spot.” Mike raises his eyebrows at him, not sure if that was actually a coincidence or if Harvey actually quoted him back.
Before he can ask, Harvey moves, ready to get clean. “Let’s shower.” He suggests, sure that the younger man would like to remove the sweat, fluids and smudged make-up.
A groan comes out of Mike, but he nods agreeable and does his best to stand on his jelly legs, trying not to wince at the stiffness of his lower back, or the way his asshole clenches around nothing.
He is kinda glad he retouched his roots last week otherwise it would be embarrassing to have black dye bleeding during the shower or worse, having stained the light sheets of the bed.
Sharing a shower with another man – and one with whom he just had sex with – is a little too intimate for Mike, but after everything that already went down between them, well, what is a little bit more kissing, groping and teasing? Harvey certainly knows how to make a shower be fun and sensual, his hands moving bold and branding against every naked, wet part of Mike’s body, spreading the sudsy soap everywhere while distracting Mike with quick kisses, and new bruises on his neck, his clavicle, his shoulders, and outright anywhere he can get his lips on. Mike holds on to him by dear life, gasping breathlessly and eyes fluttering in pleasure with every bit of attention peppered on him, completely forgetting the purpose of being in the shower.
That he ends up face-planted against the wall and Harvey deep inside him again is only natural, after all that foreplay behind Harvey’s cleaning act.
Afterwards, Harvey does get more serious on them washing each other, making sure to get Mike squeaky clean everywhere, his fingers carefully dipping into Mike’s hole to scoop out the mess he left behind after his two consecutive orgasms without a condom; and Mike should feel stupid and worried for not thinking about it, but he is just floating pleasantly with the aftereffect of his own recent orgasm, not caring about possible ETS or anything of the sort, not when Harvey keeps kissing him almost lovingly as if they didn’t meet a couple hours ago.
When they exit the shower, Mike is just about to start collecting his clothes to leave, knowing well how one-night stands tend to end, when Harvey unexpectedly pulls him towards the bed with him and wraps the both of them with his soft sheets; Mike kiss him goodnight, burrows his face against the crook of his neck and goes to sleep with a happy smile stretching his lips, clean, well-fucked and ready to sleep like the dead.
++++
The next morning is slightly disconcerting for Mike. He wakes with his phone alarm, which is actually his emergency alarm in case he doesn’t hear the one from his bedside alarm clock and so, panic grips at him for a moment, making him sit quickly upright on bed, bleary eyes looking around in confusion while trying to remember where he is and what day it is, as well as why the hell his lower back hurts. The sight of a naked man next to him, and the fact he isn’t in his own bed doesn’t help, but after maybe one or two minutes into a near panic attack, his brain wakes enough to fill his memory with last night events, which still don’t paint a good picture for him, but at least, he now remembers everything.
With a sigh, he quiets his phone, currently indicating that it’s 3 minutes past seven o’clock, still early enough that he can dress, get a cab to Brooklyn, change into his comfy clothes for deliveries and get to his bike messenger job on time. Maybe grab some breakfast pretzel on the way.
A furtive glance towards Harvey makes him lay down on the bed again, eyes drinking on the sight of the other man completely relaxed. He looks younger like this, asleep and with mused bed-hair. He feels tired enough to go back to sleep, cuddle up to Harvey and let his warmth seep into him. The idea makes Mike smile slightly, then frown because, why the hell is he looking at Harvey as if they are a couple and this is an everyday experience for him?
One night stand, he reminds himself, and slips from the bed, already missing the soft sheets – that are probably like a thousand thread-count – and goes hunting for his clothes, grimacing slightly at the dull pain on his lower back and limping here and there while he gathers his socks and all that, dressing as quietly as possible.
For a moment, he wishes he could maybe kiss Harvey goodbye, or even have a little chat, but that would be too awkward. He isn’t feeling like last night’s Mike, his clean face and usual masquerade gone, leaving him strangely vulnerable.
Decides to grab a legal pad from the desk outside to write a short note saying he had a great time, wishing Harvey well and overall, just saying farewell. Thinks about writing down his number but decides against it.
One night stand, he tells himself again, this time under his breath.
Rips the yellow paper, folds it and leaves it on the side of the bed he slept on, then leaves as silently as possible, making sure to lock the door behind him while trying to put the whole experience past him. It won’t do that he daydreams about it while on the job or he could get run over by a car.
The cab to his place is expensive, but he’s got enough money for that, so that’s something. And, when he thinks all is well and truly over, he finds Jenny sitting on the steps of his apartment, a paper bag resting between her feet. Sudden dread and anxiety spike inside him, even more so when she looks up and stares questioningly at him. Mike isn’t exactly a morning person, so him being outside of his home before his work-shift is… just not something he does.
“Hey Jenny, what are you doing here so early?” he nervously sides step her and opens the door, leading her up towards his home with a tense atmosphere surrounding him.
“Well, just wanted to see you. Have some breakfast and catch up. Ask about that gig you texted me about earlier this week.” Her smile is innocent and cute, nothing like the cocky smile Harvey had for him throughout the whole night, full of amusement and dangerous promises.
“Oh that. Yeah, it was good really. The pay and the work itself.” He busies himself searching for his biking shorts, sneakers and a clean shirt while Jenny takes out the coffee she bought and the small sandwiches from the small café near her place.
“Good.” She says, now giving out some weird vibes. Mike is just about to change right there in front of her, having done it plenty of times, but remembers he is most likely covered in hickeys and bruises and decides against it, quickly moving to the bathroom to change clothes and groaning at the sight of him. The hickeys go way over the collar of his shirt so of course Jenny already knows. She is probably trying to think about how to ask about that, and Mike wishes to avoid that conversation, but he feels too hungry to skip on the free breakfast available for him.
He braces himself and gets out, trying to act normal but well aware that he is slightly limping around and walking too carefully not to be obvious.
“Did it end too late or…?” the question hangs between them, and Jenny is just genuinely asking, not out of a need to gossip so Mike smiles slightly, taking the sandwich she gives him and biting it to delay his answer.
He ends up shaking his head after some time. “Maybe around 2AM or so.”
Her slow nod tells Mike she must be thinking about everything that could have happened between that time and now and Mike just waits for the shoe to drop.
Jenny paces awkwardly between the kitchen and the couch, then takes a seat next to Mike, her hands cradling her coffee.
“Anything interesting happened?” she settles on, and by the grimace on her face Mike can tell she feels bad for that weird question, just as awkward as Mike feels. He sighs, shrugs, then looks at her with what he hopes is nonchalance.
“I kind of met someone there.” He confesses, suddenly not that hungry anymore but forcing himself to bite into the sandwich to stall some more.
“Oh really. How was she like?”
Mike’s breath stutters out of him, and he almost chokes on the bite of food that he has to force himself to swallow with a gulp of too hot coffee.
Once he has composed himself, he clears his throat, eyes looking elsewhere. “He was a lawyer, from the firm that held the event I worked at.” He mumbles, squirming slightly on the spot and regretting it when pain shoots up his spine.
The silence stretches far too long, enough that Mike turns to look at Jenny. She has a blank face and mouth slightly agape but once she notices Mike looking, she shakes her head and smiles.
“Oh, I didn’t know…”
“Me neither.” He admits as much to himself as to her.
She nods. “Are you okay?” she asks tentatively, maybe feeling his hesitancy with the topic and mistaking it for something else.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Thinking back about the prior night, well, more like the early morning of the current day, he can truly accept it was the most amazing one-night stand, and he isn’t sure if it was due to Harvey himself, or just because it was something so different to what he is used to.
Jenny decides to drop the topic after that, instead talking about the visit she’s going to do that day to her mom, and how Trevor has been taking her to some expensive places and his mood has improved so Mike should wait for him to call, but Mike is rolling his eyes and not feigning to pretend any interest in that, at least not now.
After their short breakfast and awkward conversation, Jenny leaves, a sort of finality in her goodbye that makes it feel like some door is closing for Mike but he isn’t too keen in reading too much into it, and hey, he has kind of already move on from his awkward crush on her, mind too busy replaying his night with Harvey to think about the what-if’s of having a relationship with his best friend’s girlfriend (ex-best friend?).
Getting to work is some sort of punishment that Mike was not expecting but at least keeps him sharp and attentive enough to curse everyone driving like a maniac through New York streets. If he ends up cursing Harvey every now and then, well, it’s only natural. The man is the cause number one for Mike’s current pain.
Still, the following days are a combination of him wanting to forget about him and relieving the memory over and over in the privacy of his bed, hands wrapped around his dick, and tentative fingers slipping into his hole, wishing it was Harvey doing it instead. He comes with the man’s name on his lips, flashes of his dark brown eyes, cocky smirk and perfect body.
He ends up having some very interesting self-loving sessions, all while moaning and begging for Harvey to finish the job, and of course, not getting that for which he cries messily, face buried on his pillow, ass in the air while trying to re-create that night and failing miserably.
Jenny changes her tune with him as well, acting more like a friend than a possible something. She ends up getting some info about Harvey from him, squealing in delight at the way he blushes when he recounts some of the most innocent things that happened with the other man while his mind is busy replaying the hardcore stuff that he vehemently keeps to himself. It makes their relationship shift for good, and of course with that, comes Trevor, who is no less of a prick but at least doesn’t say anything anymore about Mike and his dyed hair or lined eyes.
All is well.
++++
He is just about to clock out of his bike delivery job, ready to go home, relax and drink a beer, maybe get some pizza and study some of the stuff he needs for his online classes that he was finally able to enroll into, when one of the other guys approaches him in a hurry.
“Dude, Mike, can I ask you a favor?”
“Hey Matt, sure, what is it?” he turns and stares, hands playing with his helmet while he leans against the wall next to the punch clock he was about to use.
“I was supposed to deliver some documents to a law firm, but my brother got arrested and I need to haul his ass out, can you do it instead?” he pleads, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he is ready bolt.
Mike nods in understanding. “Sure, let me handle it.”
“Thanks man, you are a lifesaver. Go to Mark’s office, he will give you the details, thanks bye!”, then he is gone and Mike chuckles at him, hoping he doesn’t have any issues getting his brother out.
His watch tells him it’s a little past seven o’clock at night, and he wonders how much it will take for him to complete this extra delivery, sighing and hoping he has enough time to get home and fully recharge. It’s one of the few days he doesn’t have a shift at the bar, so he wants to do the most out of his free night and have a good rest.
Mark easily directs Mike to the envelopes he needs to deliver and gives him the address for the dropout as well as the instructions, so Mike hurries, safekeeping the files inside his messenger bike and securing his helmet.
Traffic at this time is a bit of bitch, but when is it not in New York?
He’s got his own tricks and shortcuts that make the ride faster but still, he has to cross Brooklyn’s bridge and get well into Manhattan, somewhere he has nearly been able to avoid since…that event.
Finally getting to the building he needs, he stares in awe at the height of it and he slips the paper he was given and reads the instructions. The name on it makes him groan.
Pearson Hardman, 48th floor. Paralegals. Ms. Zane.
He puts the lock on his bike and makes his way into the building, telling the security guard about the delivery, and once they get confirmation through the phone from Ms. Zane herself, Mike is allowed to go up.
It’s not difficult to find the office, but he is incredibly surprised when he sees the girl he met at the event, and by the way she looks at him, she seems just as surprised, although she schools her features enough to put on a blank mask.
Mike tries to make small talk, and she shuts down his attempts just as immediately. Seems like someone’s got a pole in her ass when not drunk with martinis. He stops trying to make her smile, immediately getting the sense it’s not appreciated while she is at work. After she verifies everything is in order, she signs the slip for him and he is on his way, feeling more drained than 15 minutes ago.
Waiting for the elevator is tedious and only makes him feel more self-conscious with himself, wearing jean shorts and well-used sneakers. He fidgets with his bike gloves and then wraps his hands around the strap of his messenger bag.
He is a second too close to bolt and take the stairs, but finally the elevator lights up on his floor and the door opens, so he slides inside as fast as possible, almost crashing against the guy already inside who ends up being none other than Harvey. They stare at each other for a second too long, the both of them quiet in their surprise.
“Hey,” he sighs awkwardly, then moves to the opposite corner, looking at the panel and seeing the lighted-up ‘G’ and wishing he had taken the stairs.
“Mike,” Harvey’s voice sounds too pleased for Mike’s taste. “Long time no see.” He says, now smiling at him. Mike gulps down his nerves and nods, trying to come up with something to say but coming up empty. “What are you doing here? Looking for a lawyer?”
Mike snorts, shakes his head. “Uhm, just delivering some documents.” He tries hard to maintain eye-contact, but he can’t. Harvey’s stare is too intense. He focuses on his lips instead, biting his own lower lip and trying to reign the need to get close and kiss the other man with everything that he’s got.
“So, bartender slash courier delivery.” Says Harvey, nodding to himself. Mike shrugs.
“Something like that.”
Mike is suddenly so glad the hickeys have faded enough to be barely noticeable, although the constellation of bruises Harvey left on his skin was oddly endearing.
“Are you done?” Mike stares, question mark clear on his face. “With your deliveries?”
“Err, yes?”
“Good. Come with me.”
Now that makes Mike’s eyebrows climb to his hairline. It’s such a bold request, he wonders if he heard correctly. And when is the elevator reaching the ground floor?
“What?” he asks, unsure.
Then the door of the elevator opens, and Harvey exits, a quick pace towards the exit that Mike hurries to follow after. Once out, Harvey stops and turns, stares at Mike long and hard, eyes once more doing that triangle method that make Mike squirm and blush.
“Come with me back to my place.” He says, voice low and dark, full of promises and unsaid words that Mike can easily translate. Come spend the night with me. Let’s have a repeat of the other night.
Mike’s whole-body tingles with want. He burns from the inside out and has to bite his tongue to refrain from bursting and canting a song of yesyesyesyesyes.
He nods, then shakes his head. “I came here on my bike so ―”
“We can take it in the trunk.” His head tilts to the side, motioning to the town car waiting on the curve. The same as the other night. The driver is standing right there as well, leaning against the driver’s door reading a newspaper. Scratch that, he is definitively just pretending to read it.
Harvey’s teasing smile, and the apprehension in his eyes make Mike nod for him. “Okay.” He answers softly.
The brilliant smile he gets in response is worth it, even knowing this will only make him continue to delude himself into creating what-if scenarios that won’t do him any good in the long run.
++++
The ride to Harvey’s place is less awkward than the previous night, and this time there are no doubts or questions in Mike’s head that make him doubt himself. Harvey’s hand is placed on his naked knee, uncovered by the shorts he wears and are riding upwards.
The touch feels hot and possessive. It makes Mike burn from the inside out, even more so because the man’s attention is with his driver, while they discuss music genres, even when the hand on Mike keeps caressing him absentmindedly.
When they are finally at Harvey’s place, the driver helps get the bike out of the trunk and Mike secures it in a pole near the building, declining Harvey’s offer to have it store in the underground parking lot.
This time, when Harvey pulls him close in the elevator for a kiss, Mike eagerly complies, hands holding on to the lapels of the other’s suit and tongue playfully sliding over Harvey’s lips before thrusting inside, the tension between them building more and more and soon having them rubbing against each other, Harvey’s hand possessively grabbing onto his ass and squeezing every now and then, pulling Mike as close to him as possible.
As soon as the elevator stops on Harvey’s floor, they step out while trying not to break the kiss, and blindly make their way to the penthouse, Mike trusting Harvey to get them there without too many bumps.
The door slides shut behind them but neither pay attention, too busy sucking face and groping the other to care.
Maybe he should question why he feels so at ease with someone he met for just one day – night –, easily falling in step and getting naked without a second thought as soon as they are in the confines of Harvey’s home, but he doesn’t have enough space of mind to actually question that at the time, and the sight of Harvey buck naked in the middle of his entrance hall is just… too amazing and distracting.
Light comes from the few lamps that are on in the living room, enough to shade some warm light over them in contrast to the dark outside the clear windows. Harvey’s skin looks positively beautiful.
He stares. Like, he really stares, and marbles at the sight of the other man, still busy throwing his clothes on the armchair and exposing his rippling muscles, taut abs, and damn…his cock. He really does have a pretty one, Mike won’t lie.
He wasn’t able to appreciate it much last time, too busy letting Harvey do with him what he wanted, but now that he has the chance – and the mind – he does. When Harvey walks back towards him and smirks, aware of where exactly Mike’s attention is, Mike lets his intrusive thoughts win and he stretches a hand tentatively to reverently touch the hard member jutting up from between Harvey’s thighs, feeling his own twitch in interest.
He looks back at Harvey coy from under hooded eyes, while his hand wraps carefully around the hot prick, and lets his palm slide slowly up and down, biting his lip at the way it hardens further while in his grasp. Harvey isn’t looking that cocky anymore, smirk wiped out and eyes intense, mouth pressed in a tight line, letting Mike do as he seems fit.
Time seems to be suspended for some time, while Mike familiarizes himself with Harvey’s dick. To think he had it inside him some weeks ago, and just now, he has the chance to touch and look at it freely. Wild.
“You’re holding me like it’s your first time touching another man in your life." Harvey says after some time, breaking Mike’s concentration and making him blush. His hold tightens slightly, enjoying the intake of breath Harvey has to take at the rough treatment but still feeling called out at the words because…he’s not wrong.
“So what if it is?” he snaps, face red and now feeling self-conscious.
Silence meets him, and he dares a peak at Harvey, who is staring at him like he is trying to figure him out. “I would say it doesn’t surprise.” He says with a small smile, his hand coming to wrap around Mike’s and guiding his movements more surely over his cock, but just as slow. His palm is hot and grounds Mike a little bit; give him confidence. “Though, I am curious about it.” He adds, voice lower and slightly deeper.
Mike looks at him attentively, drinking in every small gesture that shows on Harvey’s face while they continue to pump Harvey’s cock in a teasing rhythm. Mike’s own cock twitches and spurts pre-come just at the sight of the other man looking at him with such open hunger.
“You can ask, but I reserve the right not to answer.”
Harvey smiles, and for a moment, Mike does think he will continue the conversation and ask about the obvious, but instead, he leans forward and captures Mike’s lips in a kiss, soft and almost reverent. It blanks Mike’s mind for a second, his hand freezing when a tongue slips past his lips and licks his teeth; pushes against his own tongue and steals his breath away.
He moans quietly into the kiss, and Harvey smiles against his lips, then he moves his hands and wraps them around Mike, pulling at him and turning him to press him against the floor-to-ceiling window, fingers digging hard on the soft flesh of his hips and teasingly sliding around to grab at his ass. Mike continues to move his hand up and down, quicker now, letting his thumb slide teasingly over the tip and spreading the bursts of pre-come that had gathered there making the movements easier and more slippery. In the end, it’s not that different to masturbating, he concludes.
Harvey’s breathing hitches, and becomes quite erratic now, his hips moving in tandem with Mike’s movements, seeking more. It gives Mike a sense of power and control that he quite enjoys.
Suddenly, Harvey breaks the kiss and slides two fingers over Mike’s lips, then into his mouth, pulling open his jaw with the pads of his fingers pulling on his tongue and down, then thrusting deeper and letting Mike’s tongue swirl in between them, getting them all wet. They lock eyes all the time, and it feels intimate but…natural. There is no awkwardness for some reason, and Mike even moans around the fingers in his mouth, his hand’s movements faltering momentarily and then just stopping entirely. Harvey doesn’t seem to mind, more interested in removing his wet fingers from Mike’s mouth and sliding them down and around Mike, towards his hole. Unwilling to wait, he plunges those two fingers inside, surprising Mike with the sudden penetration and making him go tense all over.
“Fuck, warn a guy.” He gasps, pain laced into his words.
Harvey kisses him at that moment and grabs onto one of Mike’s legs to let it wrap around his waist, opening him more and giving him something to hold onto. The wet kiss and careful caress of Harvey’s hand on his thigh, and then on his dick, help Mike lose focus on the burn and stretch of Harvey’s fingers pumping in and out of him in quick succession, making him moan and sob brokenly in Harvey’s ear, his own arms coming to hug Harvey around the neck to hold on for dear life. Despite the lack of lube, the slide is easy, though it burns. Of course, that is due to Mike not being particularly used to being fingered, feeling too embarrassed to do it by himself even during the times he had masturbated to the memory of Harvey fucking him.
Now, having those fingers inside him, twisting and spreading inside him, harder, faster and rougher than before, it’s like a whole new thing. A good one at that, it seems. His body jerks and clenches in pleasure, his dick stays hard and dribbling despite the roughness, and a wail escapes his mouth when a third finger slips inside, filling him up and stretching him even more.
Just when he is feeling his pleasure spiking, nearing to the edge, Harvey pulls his fingers out, leaving him clenching around nothing, pulsing around emptiness and making him grunt dissatisfied. His eyes open dazedly to stare annoyed at Harvey, who is smiling wryly at him, hand busy spreading his own pre-come all over his length until it’s shining wet.
Maybe it should be smart to suggest they move to the bedroom, get some proper lube and a condom, but Mike is quite curious about what is going to happen next. Is Harvey intending to fuck him against the window? The idea sends a thrilling shudder down his spine, and he obediently gives a small jump when Harvey grabs his other leg so Mike can wrap it as well around his waist, arms tensing around Harvey’s neck and biting his lip nervously. He really hopes they don’t end up falling.
Any thought gets wiped out of his mind as soon as he looks down and stares at Harvey’s long, curved and angry red cock, all slippery with come and being held like a weapon by Harvey, who flexes his arm holding Mike to slide him slightly upwards against the window, and then guides his cock in between Mike’s cheeks, letting the blunt head run the edge of his hole, the wet tip teasing and tickling.
“What are you waiting for?” mutters Mike, face hot and sweaty, hole clenching around nothing and his own dick weeping and hurting in wait of release.
Harvey sends him an amused look, “So impatient.” He whispers, holding Mike’s eye when he finally let’s his cock push in, breaching Mike’s hole a little abruptly, and then stopping just as sudden, noticing Mike’s harsh intake of breath and how he tenses all over.
“Fuck,” curses Mike, his fingers digging hard against Harvey’s shoulders, and his legs spasming. A full body shudder runs through him, well aware of how thick and big Harvey feels. He’s not even fully in yet, and Mike is already feeling his head swim, breath coming out in ragged pants. Harvey’s hips move giving short, slow thrusts, each one squeezing in just a little bit more. Inch by inch, he pushes in gradually, carefully, all while staring at Mike’s face for any signs of discomfort or pain, which Mike makes a great job of concealing, mind you. For one dizzying moment, it feels never ending, until Harvey finally bottoms out, his balls resting hotly against him.
Mike feels him reach even deeper than last time, and his head swims trying to focus on anything other than the huge girth splitting him open. When his sight focuses, he notices Harvey is looking at him attentively, eyebrows slightly furrowed in what could be concern, so Mike smiles at him, probably already looking fucked out.
“Feels good,” he mumbles, words slurring. That makes Harvey snort and raise an eyebrow in disbelief, so Mike of course just grins wider and heaves a deep sigh, feeling a little bit high.
They both take a moment to breathe, to take it all in. Mike is momentarily impressed at the fact Harvey doesn’t seem to have even broken a sweat, at least not yet. The guy does have his teeth clench tight, but out of the two, Mike is the one that seems more affected. He relaxes slightly, letting the tension in his body melt against Harvey’s warm one, focusing on the hard grip of Harvey’s hands under his thighs, his slick, smooth chest pressing hard against Mike’s; Mike’s dick trapped between them and still throbbing.
He swallows hard when Harvey pulls out slowly and then pushes back in with a quick thrust, starting to fuck into Mike in a slow cadence that feels delicious and satisfying. He moans, then sighs, acutely aware of the cock inside him twitching and filling him up almost to unbearable measures. Somehow, it’s completely different from last time, and not just because of the position – although that kinda is like the cherry on top – but everything that comes with it. Having Harvey’s eyes on him, his breath on his face, the urgency behind the erratic movements of Harvey’s hips driving his cock hard and fast into him. Being held against a window, for fuck’s sake.
Yeah, that is for sure the cherry on top. It’s just…something else. No one had ever held Mike like this.
Perhaps Trevor once or twice picked him up and threw him around while they were playfully rough housing in their teen years, but other than that, it had always been Mike the one picking up his girlfriends; although, not to fuck them against a wall or a window like Harvey is doing with him without a care in the world.
So surely, and intimately as well.
And it just gets better from there, with Harvey amping his pace, their breaths now mingling and eyes fully locked into the other, as if hypnotized.
Mike leans first, lips eager to meet Harvey’s once more, and moans into the kiss when a particularly well-aimed thrust rams into his prostate, releasing tiny thousand shards of pleasure all over his body. “Nhng, Harvey,” he groans, mouth a little slack, his focus broken now that his sensitive spot is being abused with intent.
Harvey grunts gravelly, smile stretched in a sinful smile with hooded eyes and fingers still digging hard under Mike’s thighs. “You sound close.” He teases. And Mike nods, eyes closing momentarily while he bites his lip, his hole clenching tight and his nails raking up Harvey’s back. “So so so so close, don’t stop.” Comes out of his mouth, almost begging. Ready to do so, actually. But Harvey doesn’t need him to, he is close himself; breath erratic and pulse going crazy on the vein at his neck.
The thrum of his fast-beating heart reverberates against Mike’s chest, and for a moment, their heartbeats seem to sync, or so Mike thinks. Maybe he is just too far gone to think about anything other than Harvey and the way he feels him inside and all around him. The world seems to narrow down to this moment between them, their movements almost a harmonizing dance that goes in crescendo, with Harvey fucking him hard and fast, the slapping of skin on skin deafening and obscene. Mike tries to hold on, and reach for his dick, undecided on what to do, brain feeling as if it’s melting out of his ears.
When Harvey tilts his head and starts sucking on his neck, he keens a high moan, one hand grabbing onto Harvey’s hair hard, the other busy wrapping around his neglected cock to pump it a few times.
What seems like a growl escapes Harvey when he starts clenching maddeningly around his dick, his pleasure spilling over him, tipping him over the edge and hurling him in a full-on blackout of pure body-shuddering ecstasy, toes curling, legs tensing, back arching and air coming in barely sound gasps while his ears ring and his eyes are shut tight. He barely notices the wet mess that lands on his chest and chin, too far gone to care really.
“Don’t stop,” he whines in a tiny voice, overstimulated but wanting to drown in the pain after pleasure that makes it all seem so real.
Harvey keeps going, thrusting into him like a possessed animal, grunting and heaving loudly against Mike’s ear until finally, his body jerks and seizes, then hot cum floods inside Mike, and he feels it slosh with every thrust that Harvey continues to pound into him.
Mike opens his eyes just in time to see Harvey’s face going from tight in pleasure, to completely slack with the afterglow, and he can’t resist leaving one tiny kiss on his lips. The full weight of Harvey’s body is keeping him pressed against the window, and with the way the man is slightly shaking, Mike fears they will definitively topple to the floor now, but no, Harvey slips out and then slowly lowers him to the floor, one leg at a time, still keeping Mike in a hug in case Mike’s legs fail him…which they do.
How embarrassing.
There is a tingling going up and down his legs, with the flow of blood that was previously restricted while Harvey held him suddenly following its course again, and so Mike leans his weight against the crystal window, waiting to gain some life into his muscles so he can stand with a little dignity, though the wet mess trickling down his thighs doesn’t help his case. He doesn’t mind that Harvey leans heavily against him, lips pressing hotly against his temple and hands caressing his sides, down his hips and up his waist.
“Can you walk?” Harvey’s voice sounds gravelly and low, too tempting for Mike after what just happened but what can he do? He sighs, and nods, immediately walking with Harvey when the older man pulls him by the waist towards the bedroom, discarded clothes forgotten and giving Mike a little bit of anxiety.
He shouldn’t entertain anything more than what just transpired, otherwise, he could end up just deluding himself into something that most likely, won’t ever be.
However, since being fucked is exhausting, he can barely deny the invitation from Harvey to lay on his glorious bed, all soft and comfy. In comparison to his lumpy mattress, this is like a cloud in heaven. So, he happily accepts the wet cloth from Harvey once he gets back from the bathroom and they clean enough to not soil the sheets too much, then lay down and try to catch their breaths and relax their stiff muscles, each on one side of the bed, together but not mingling.
Which isn’t something Mike enjoys, being naked and all that. Also, he is the kind of person that enjoys cuddling after sex, so he rolls himself surreptitiously until he is laying next to Harvey, his head coming to rest lightly on his shoulder. Harvey doesn’t seem to mind, hugging him to close the distance and starting a relaxing caress against his back.
The silence in the bedroom is heavy and quiet, broken only by the hum of electricity that comes from the hallway, and the steady rhythm of their breathing.
Harvey’s naked chest rises and falls with every slow intake of breath, while Mike traces an aimless pattern onto it. His black hair is a messy nest against the white pillowcases, and the leftover eyeliner gives Mike’s soft features a bruised, dramatic edge that Harvey can’t stop looking at.
"So," Harvey starts, his voice low and still pretty much gravelly, now laced with lazy amusement. "Are you going to tell me what the deal with you is?"
Mike doesn’t look up, but a tiny, familiar smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Don’t know what you mean.”
He gets an eyeroll that he doesn’t see but can imagine. "I mean, are you a closeted gay with catholic guilt?" He asks with a smirk, clearly joking. Mike snorts, stares for a second and shakes his head, cheeks heating up.
"Was it bad or what? Why do you care?" He suddenly doesn’t feel like cuddling, so he turns to his other side, giving Harvey his back, and sinking into the pillow while biting his lip; his mind starts to wander to not so nice thoughts.
Harvey leans over him, his lips starting a soothing trail of kisses along his neck all the way down to his shoulder, making Mike sigh slightly, his eyes fluttering shut with the softness behind the touches.
"Definitively not bad," Whispers Harvey next to his ear, his arm hugging Mike closer to his chest. "You were charmingly enthusiastic. That made it even better." He confesses.
And Mike smiles, embarrassed but still preening at the compliment.
"Just felt like giving it a go for once." Admits Mike, turning around in Harvey's embrace so they are chest to chest. His foot playfully slides up and down Harvey's calf, his hands once more placed against Harvey's chest, drawing nonsensical shapes only he can see in his mind's eye. He clears his throat, suddenly guilty, and looks at Harvey from under his eye lashes. "I also kinda wanted to forget about this weird crush I had on my friend's girlfriend". He chews on his lip while looking at Harvey's eyebrows raise, taken aback. Fortunately, there is nothing but surprise and faint amusement in his eyes.
"What a way to do it."
Mike shrugs coy, smiling.
"Did it work?" asks Harvey then, his fingers moving up and down Mike's arm in a warm touch that makes goosebumps rise all over him.
If he thinks about it, yeah, it did work. His mind had been circling around Harvey and the memories of their last encounter, barely giving him time to think about Jenny's smile or kind eyes. So, he nods, nervously swallowing down the saliva pooling in his mouth with the nerves suddenly trashing his stomach at his own sincerity.
Harvey smiles. "Glad to be of assistance then."
The easy-going nature with which Harvey accepts the whole thing, like he doesn’t mind at all that he was just an outlet for Mike’s frustrations, is oddly endearing.
“What about you? Do you usually pick up guys from the events your workplace organizes?” he asks, half in a joke, half interested in the answer.
Harvey stares at him, lopsided smile stretching slightly. “Not particularly from those events. I do have a reputation to maintain after all.”
Mike nods. “Right, big-shot lawyer and all that.” He drawls, a little bitterly, given his circumstances.
“And you? Is there more you do besides be a bartender slash bike messenger?”
The question kind of wilts Mike’s good mood, but he is feeling chatty for a chance and doesn’t feel like Harvey will particularly judge him. “Not at the time, but I do want to finish college.” He admits, wistfully thinking about his future, eyes seeming faraway now.
Harvey stares at him for a quiet second, then asks, “What made you drop out?”
Suddenly, it gets slightly harder to answer. He doesn’t feel the same shame he had when he confessed to his grammy what had happened, but there is still a certain amount of disgrace around the whole thing that makes Mike’s throat constrict when he remembers everything that went wrong.
He has to swallow a couple of times, pushing down the sudden ball of anxiety constricting his throat before clearing it; he sighs a little bit in resignation after a few pressing seconds.
“I was expelled, actually.” His voice sounds small and raspy, the knot in his throat trying to form once again. There is nothing but quiet attention from Harvey, as if holding on to any kind of reaction until getting all the facts. “Used to sell the answers from some tests and ended up selling some to the wrong person.” The words don’t feel exactly like releasing a weight off him, but at least he feels more at peace with the whole situation.
“That must have sucked.” Says Harvey after some time, eyebrows drawn downwards in a frown.
Mike nods with a dry chuckle. “The understatement of the century.”
“But I don’t doubt you will get back on your feet in no time.” Assures Harvey, oddly sure.
Mike snorts, burrows further into Harvey’s chest.
"I'm serious. You seem like a smart guy. Not anyone could memorize the tax code just for funsies." Mumbles Harvey, noticing the reluctance in Mike to share more, but curious, nonetheless. Mike sighs, shrugs.
“I am working on getting back on track, but it will take time. And money.”
"Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty." quotes Harvey to him, his hand moving to raise Mike’s head from his hiding spot so he can look at him in the eye, thumb brushing slowly over his jaw.
Mike stares a little in awe. No one before had ever quoted something to him. It was always the other way around.
“I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life.” Says Mike with a smile, feeling lighter now that there is a spark of mischief in Harvey’s eyes, like he too is delighted in getting a quote back in response to his own.
There is a conspiring silence that falls between them and lulls the conversation into something more private.
Harvey’s hand moves upwards from his jaw to his hair, caressing the messy strands and staring intently for a moment.
“What about this?” he asks, curious.
Mike shrugs. “Needed a change.”
"Right. A change,'" Harvey echoes. He reaches down, his thumb casually catching a stray line of black smudge high on Mike's cheekbone, smoothing it out. "People usually just get a haircut when they want a change."
Mike lets out a huff of a laugh, glaring up at Harvey through heavy eyelids. "I just needed a do-over."
Harvey’s hand pauses for half a second before resting against the pillow near Mike’s head. "A do-over from what?"
"From making stupid choices," Mike says quietly, smile faltering slightly. The playful edge slips away for a fraction of a second, revealing the raw truth underneath. "I was... stuck. Letting bad habits drag me down into a pit I had no business being in."
He rolls onto his back, stares up at the ceiling, his fingers idly twiddling together.
"So I reinvented myself," Mike continues, his voice regaining that familiar, confident edge. "Every time I had an impulse—every time my brain said 'hey, let's do the classic Mike thing'—I did the exact opposite. Old Mike sits on the couch feeling sorry for himself and smoking weed until passing out? New Mike buys a seven-dollar box of permanent dye, wears eyeliner, and gets two jobs to get back on his feet."
Harvey quirks an eyebrow, leaning in just a fraction. "And where did going home with a stranger in a tailored tux fall on the 'opposite' scale?"
Mike snorts, turning his head to look Harvey dead in the eye, a spark of his arrogant snark flashing through the amusement. "Old Mike is straight, terrified of taking risks, and would’ve chosen the safe bet of going home with a girl or pinned after his friend. New Mike decided you were hot, and there was nothing to lose."
A slow, genuine smile spreads across Harvey’s face, something real and surprisingly warm.
"Well," Harvey murmurs, tilting his head. "For a guy that tried gay sex on a whim, your execution was surprisingly impressive."
Mike blushes but grins wider. “Thanks. I always strive to impress.”
Harvey outright laughs at him, body shaking and having it reverberate to Mike by the closeness of their bodies.
“Consider me thoroughly impressed then.”
Something tells Mike Harvey doesn’t usually shower people with compliments, but there is a bubble of comfort and comradery that engulfs them in a warm cocoon, as if they are long-time friends or soulmates from another life, immediately clicking and falling in sync.
After they have let the mirth die down, and only the content satisfaction of a well spent night lays over them, Harvey stirs from bed. “Come on, we should get a shower and something for dinner.”
Mike sighs but follows him, staring a little impressed when Harvey gives him a new packet of wipes that remove make-up, and he tries to hide the obvious blush burning on his cheeks at the gesture. He doesn’t remember seeing those the last time he was here, and he has an eidetic memory, okay?
If Harvey cares that he just gave himself away, he doesn’t show it, instead fiddling with the shower knobs to get the water ready. As soon as Mike has removed all the smudged eyeliner, he hops in after Harvey, immediately getting pulled into a now soaking wet chest, and the same dance they had the other night starts all over.
Limbs tangle wetly, mouths find each other blindly, and their bodies join in an intimate embrace that only the fogged-up crystal shower wall gets to spectate.
Afterwards, Harvey indulges Mike’s whim for crusted pizza, and they cuddle on the couch with a Back to the future re-run that is both nostalgic and amusing.
Mike doesn’t want it to end, so he concedes when Harvey pulls him towards his bed once more, this time, while dressed in underwear and holding each other innocently, ready for sleep.
Could Mike strive for this kind of life someday? Or does he need to hold on tight right now, so life doesn’t get in the way?
His tired eyes stared at Harvey’s calm face for as long as he can, trying to map every expression on Harvey’s perfect features, but eventually, sleep pulls him under, and he dreams of pizza, trials and town cars, a life that could have been on another timeline perhaps.
++++
Saying goodbye the next morning is not as awkward as it is a little heartbreaking. At least for Mike, who has decided this will be the last he will see of Harvey, otherwise, he could lose focus of his own reality. He isn’t on the same level as the other man, barely scrapping by with what he makes and trying to finish college to attempt to make his dream come true.
There is no room for a prince-charming that makes his life easier just by existing.
Harvey gives him his card; tells Mike to call so they can see each other again, either to talk or hook up, the young man can decide, he says.
And Mike nods, eyes looking guiltily away from those warm brown eyes that stare at him with a wonderment that only his parents and grammy ever directed at him. There may be a quiet realization in Harvey’s eyes that this will be the last he sees of Mike, but Mike can’t be sure.
After a last smile, and a quiet way down the elevator, Mike grabs his bike and walks away slowly, the chilly morning air clearing him and getting him away from the last vestiges of what could be but isn’t really meant to be.
He needs his normalcy back.
His reality.
And doing the walk of shame while getting to Brooklyn with his bike next to him is enough to ground him back to the world, feet firmly planted and decisiveness inflating his chest with purpose.
++++
The next couple of years are not easy, at all. Mike wanted to give up several times.
Only the presence of his grammy and the fact that her health had been declining with time kept him going. Also, she was kind of his biggest cheerleader, never pressuring him too much, but always enough to get his head out of his ass.
But he did it. He finished college and even went to Brooklyn Law. Nothing impressive, and much more time consuming than he wanted, but still, he did it by himself. While working 2 jobs, mind you. Also, he sprinkled some tutoring here and there just for the extra cash.
He isn’t a lowlife nor a fucked up. He reformed himself and accomplished what he thought was impossible.
Maybe he isn’t as young as the other Law graduates, that also come from much more prestige backgrounds and high-end schools, but no one gave him the easy route. It was all him putting in the hours, the work and the effort.
Just like Harvey said, almost 4 or so years ago.
He hopes the man is doing well, and feels remorseful for just disappearing on him, but nothing good could have come from whatever they had. At least, that’s what Mike told himself every day while pining after the older man, replaying their counted moments together and refraining from going after him.
It was hard, and only the fact that he was drowning in schoolwork and his two jobs was he able to keep at bay.
Also, it had been a while since he last dyed his hair, letting his natural dirty blond grow and shine, as well as avoiding replacing the spent eyeliner that he so religiously used for a long time. Back to the old common Mike.
He was once more on square one, ready to start what he had been supposed to have started some years ago but was glad he could at least grasp with his own hands later than never.
A dream come true, really.
Both Trevor and Jenny had remained in his life – together of course – and although Trevor had continued his path down a messy, complicated road, selling weed and pretending to be a corporate worker, well, Mike had decided to keep him as a friend. At the beginning, they had only remained close because of Jenny, and then, because of the melancholy that came with remembering their good old days skipping class and doing typical teen shenanigans.
Things weren’t the same between them though, there was a distance that told Mike, Trevor didn’t fully want him in his business, and Mike was fine like that. After all, he had been pretty damn adamant in keeping himself out of anything problematic that old Mike would have jumped at feet first. Even more so if it involved Trevor. He had learned his lesson, thank you very much.
So, overall, everything is fine.
Mike has an interview early that day at a well-known medium-sized law firm; the only one so far that had contact him after getting his resume, so it feels like a win. The first of many, he hopes.
He is ready to ace the interview; even plans to impress them with his eidetic memory and finally start on what he had planned for the longest time.
Nerves wreck through him while he gets ready that morning, fingers fumbling with the simple knot of his dark blue skinny tie. For once, Jenny isn’t there to cheer him up and give him a pep talk, so he makes do with sending himself meaningful stares through the mirror and playing ‘We are the champions’ on a loop inside his head, all the way from his apartment, to the bike chained outside, to the none-descriptive building where the interview will be held.
He could definitively use his earphones, but he is already over-stimulated, and adding extra noise won’t exactly help.
Lucky him, the office itself is quiet, surprisingly. The receptionist that welcomes him takes his name, directs him to a small waiting area where two other guys are already seated, and then leaves him with a friendly smile telling him to wait there for his turn.
The other guys there seem to know each other since they are already mid-conversation when Mike takes a seat in a chair near them, and he can’t help but eavesdrop.
“Yeah man, right after this one.”
“For real? So cool, I barely got any interviews myself.”
The other guy shrugs, preening, and Mike roll his eyes to himself. “Well, I was amongst the best 20 students of my generation in Harvard, of course I was going to get a recommendation.”
“But Pearson Hardman? Can’t believe how lucky you are.”
“I don’t know If I’m even going. Is at the Chilton man, that’s too far from here, and I’ve got better offers anyway.”
“Come on, one can’t have too many offers.” Just when the other pompous ass is about to retort – probably to say something so he can continue playing hard to get for a firm that wouldn’t look at him twice in a good day – a smart-looking woman steps out of a mahogany door with a clipboard in hand, a girl is next to her and after a last handshake, the girl leaves.
“Rick Sorkin?” she calls, and the pompous jerk stands up with a confident smile.
They both disappear behind the mahogany door, and Mike gets comfortable on the cushion chair, ignoring the other guy sitting there with him.
The previous conversation from the other guys replays in his head and he wonders… would it be so bad if he crashed that interview? He knows for a fact he is better than any other recent law graduate, even if he isn’t from Harvard itself.
Maybe they won’t even care.
He ponders the pros and cons of doing something like that while the interview goes on between the woman and the other guy; eventually, it’s done, and the guy still sitting next to Mike, replaces the one inside, his mind still turning the idea around. A girl arrives not soon after, sits next to him and after a nod of acknowledgement, they each remain quiet.
He sits waiting, thinking.
When it is finally his turn to get in, his nerves have already cleared enough for him to ease fluidly in the interview, making very well-placed jokes to get a chuckle out of the interviewer and impressing her quite well with his vast knowledge.
The woman, Mrs. Lanser, is a senior partner at the firm and conducting the interviews to get a new batch of young associates. From what she says, they have good growing opportunities and whatnot, even going as far as saying that someone like Mike, could be in a junior associate position in maybe less than five to six years.
It all sounds good, but Mike’s mind is already set on Pearson Hardman. Perhaps just because of that fateful meeting he had with Harvey all those years ago, he doesn’t know, but after saying goodbye to Mrs. Lanser and shaking her hand, his feet move on their own to hurry towards the Chilton, scurrying between the traffic on his bike to make it on time.
He isn’t even sure the time the interviews are going to be held, but he hopes he is able to get there.
His wristwatch says it’s 5 minutes until 10 once he arrives at the hotel, breathing a little erratically and quickly locking his bike in the nearest post.
As best as he can, he smooths down his hair, while simultaneously making his way into the hotel, nervous gaze taking everything in. There is a big sign on his left indicating room 2005 to be the one where the Harvard Law interviews for Pearson Hardman will be held, so he fastens his pace slightly and quickly detours to the nearest bathroom.
His hands are sweating, and he feels slightly hot, so he throws his tie over his shoulder and walks towards the faucet to splash cold water on his face a few times. He feels confident enough with his knowledge and capacity to dazzle, that he doesn’t think there will be much trouble during the interview, but he needs to make it past the person that greenlights the candidates and find a spot to sneak in since he doesn’t have an appointment.
Sending himself one last reassuring look through the mirror, he braces for the worst and exits the bathroom, quickly catching the closing doors of the elevator and riding inside with a lady in a sunny dress.
His fingers thrum mindlessly against his thighs, and he is reciting the Barbri legal handbook to himself in his mind just to calm down and focus. His mind blanks however when he opens the door of the room and as if on cue, all the Harvard drones already waiting inside look at him.
Slowly, he steps in, eyes looking around for an empty chair to sit on.
“Rick Sorkin?” asks a red-headed woman in front of him, sitting at a desk on the small set-up reception room in front of what is the waiting room of apparently, a huge hotel suite.
Mike stares at her, nervous, then clears his throat. His hands nervously pressing down his suit while he looks assessingly at the other guys sitting in a row of chairs against the wall. The guy from the other interview is actually not present. Just what he needs.
He stands straighter and closes the distance between him and the woman, trying to smile with confidence.
“Hello.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Sorkin. You are 5 minutes late.” The woman says. Mike can’t help but distractedly think she is gorgeous and intimidating at the same time.
“I’m actually not Rick Sorkin, but I bet I’m a better candidate than him.”
“Is that so?” there seems to be amusement in her eyes, and a little bit of perhaps incredulity. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
Mike swallows and pushes through the nerves that have come back. “I’m Mike Ross.” His hands fumble slightly with his messenger bag while he gets a resume from the folder shoved deep inside and hands it to her.
Her eyes quickly scan it and even if he tries to read her, he isn’t able to. Her face is a closed book.
Slowly, her gaze rises from the resume to him and pins him in place. “Why should I let you in, in Mr. Sorkin’s place?”
In a low voice, he confides, “Because I’m here, and I assure you, he won’t be. I also know corporate law better than anyone in that lobby.” He jams his thumb over his shoulder to point at the Harvard clones lining the wall and then leans on the desk conspiratorially. “I know your firm has a Harvard-only policy, but I also know they value results. Send me in. I assure you, this will wrap up in less than 20 minutes, and you will be on your merry way. In case the person inside decides to pass on me, I will have only wasted a few minutes of their time, no big deal. After, you can keep letting in and out these borings drones.”
The woman looks with interest now and smiles widely at him, leans back and sends a wink through the open door at her left. When Mike looks, he doesn’t see anyone, so he only purses his lips a little anxiously and waits until she turns back to him.
“Mr. Specter will be with you shortly.” She beams, clear amusement shining in her eyes. Specter?
He is ushered pointedly into the side room, immediately taken aback at the person waiting for him. Someone he wasn’t planning to ever meet again.
He closes the door in a daze, and stares stupidly at the other man for a moment. “Harvey?” he asks tentatively, voice a little choked up.
“Mike?”
Suddenly all the memories resurface in his mind, and he can’t help but blush, clearing his throat to hide his embarrassment and looking away for a second. After he takes a deep breath, he looks back up and smiles, as professionally as possible given the past shared between them.
This is supposed to be his clean slate; he can’t let whatever happened in the past between them ruin it for him.
“Mr. Specter, nice to meet you. I’m Mike Ross.” His hand rises, going for a handshake, and Harvey only stares, eyes still a little wide as if he has seen a ghost. Mike looks at him with what he hopes is imploring mercy, quietly asking him to indulge Mike and act the part.
Harvey seems to snap out of his daze and clears his throat, mask back in place.
“Mike Ross. Don’t remember seeing your name on the list.” He says, eyebrows high on his forehead and lips purse in wonderment. Still, he grabs Mike’s hand in a strong handshake and then drops it, motioning for Mike to sit on the vacant chair in front of the desk, while he rounds it and takes his place on the other side, his eyes immediately searching for Mike’s blue ones.
“Change of plans that will definitively benefit you.” His words come out confidently, or as confidently as he can muster while looking in the eye at the man that fucked him stupid twice, some three or so years ago.
Mike still uses those memories as wanking material for fucks sake.
“Is that so?” now Harvey looks amused but interested. It gives Mike hope. “I know for a fact, you are not from Harvard. And you know just as well, Pearson Hardman only gets Harvard associates. Why should I bend the rules for you?
At that, Mike swallows, then smirks. “I’m better than any other graduate from Harvard. Or any other prestigious law school, for that matter.”
Harvey nods at him, as if he believes him, but doesn’t say anything.
“Do you have your resume, or should I imagine all you have accomplish these past years?” he asks, smiling.
Mike hurries to take one out of his bag and hands it over, sitting straighter on the chair and staring intently at Harvey while he reads his resume, eyes quickly scanning it. Just like the woman outside, his face is a blank slate, and Mike can’t tell if he is satisfied or not with what he finds.
Of course, Mike doesn’t have the greatest resume, giving the gap in his education, and the fact he is from Brooklyn Law, but at least he can take pride in the fact he finished his education in fewer years than expected, and graduated with honors.
After some time, Harvey lays the resume back on the desk and stares at Mike for some time, assessingly, then sighs. “How did you even know about the interview?”
Mike shrugs, smirks. “I know what's going on. I hear things.”
Harvey stares, then bites his lip trying to hide the growing smile on his face. After some seconds trying to compose himself, he says, “What do you hear? You don't hear nothing. Don't listen to what you hear.”
The fact that Harvey answered his quote makes Mike’s smile become brighter, and he sags slightly on the chair, the tenseness melting out of him and deep satisfaction fills him.
“You are the first that has ever bothered to quote back to me.” He says, a little bashful, a lot smitten, no lie there. He hopes he isn’t doing heart eyes at the time.
Surprisingly, Harvey looks just as pleased. “Kid, I can easily outquote you.”
Mike raises his eyebrows, surprised at the confidence behind those words. “Doubt that. I have an eidetic memory.” He confesses with a cocky smile.
Now Harvey is the one staring at him with raised eyebrows in obvious incredulity.
“You do?” he asks, realization tinting his words, and not doubt like everyone before that has ever learned about Mike’s eidetic memory; his eyes trail back to the resume on top of the desk, understanding shining in them. “Explains the fast-track route you took to finish that law degree.”
Mike feels like preening at the amazement he finds in Harvey’s gaze. “I consume knowledge like no one you've ever met. I assure you, I’m the best bet for you as an associate.”
His words seem to latch on to Harvey, who stares consideringly at him, fingers stapled together on top of the desk.
“Even if you have the Barbri legal handbook memorized,” he says, a finger tapping on the cover of said book laying on the desk, “it does not mean you can actually go toe to toe with other lawyers and apply the knowledge in your head, on real cases.”
“You may be right, however, I can learn that. I already have the ability to read and memorized everything I need; read precedents to find loopholes, do research to expand my knowledge on how things are worked in court and so on.”
Harvey nods almost absentmindedly at his words, as if he already thought of that possibility and it makes Mike feel closer to convincing him.
“You give me this, and I will work as hard as it takes to school those Harvard douches
and become the best lawyer you have ever seen.”
“I'm inclined to give you a shot,” he starts, “but we need to address the elephant in the room.” His pointed stare tells Mike exactly what he is referring to, and he blushes, coughs awkwardly and nods.
“Right.”, he swallows, throat suddenly dry. He tries not to fidget but ends up shifting slightly on the leather chair anyways while unbuttoning his suit jacket just to give his hands something to do.
"If I hire you, you’re my associate. That means I give an order, you execute it. No hesitation, no second-guessing, and absolutely no personal history spilling into the bullpen. Also, no word about your second-hand degree."
"Understood," Mike says, his voice steadying. "I’m not looking to complicate your life. Or mine."
Harvey holds his gaze for a long beat, searching Mike’s face. A slow, faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Good. Because if someone finds out my new prodigy is a Brooklyn Law grad I picked up at a gala three years ago, we’re both fired."
Mike lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, the knot of anxiety in his chest loosening. "So... no favoritism?"
"Favoritism?" Harvey raises an eyebrow. "Kid, I’m going to work you harder than any Harvard idiot in the firm. You’re going to be swimming in discovery, pulling all-nighters, and doing my research until your photographic memory short-circuits. You want to prove you're the best? You're going to work for it."
Mike’s smirk blooms into a full, confident grin. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Harvey stares at him for one more beat, an unreadable look passing behind his dark eyes. He reaches to grab his laptop. “I'm emailing the firm I just found our next associate.”
Mike can’t help but beam at him.
“You're gonna start next week. Here's what you need to take into account. We drug test. So if you are back to smoking pot, drop it.” He sends him a meaningful look, and stares some more, making Mike raise an eyebrow at him in question. “There are no strict guidelines against hair dye, so you have free-will on that matter. Although, I like you better blond.” His voice drops slightly and his smile turns flirtier, eyes hooding with clear interest.
Mike can’t help but smile in return. “Don’t worry, I no longer smoke pot or dye my hair.”
Harvey nods, satisfied.
“As a disclaimer, what happens off the clock stays off the clock.” He adds, his hand closing the lid of the laptop with finality and sending Mike another loaded look.
In no time, Mike catches the hidden meaning on those words, and he nods with a small knowing sideways smile. “Got it. Strict professional boundaries during work.” He agrees, then smiles wider. “After that, all is allowed?”
Harvey smirks at him. “As long as we keep it professional where it matters.” He shrugs, standing up casually from his seat and walking to the door. He opens it with a flourish and peaks his head to stare at the woman sitting at the desk. “Donna, I’ve got my associate, send everyone home.”
Mike catches a surprised look from the redhead before Harvey closes the door again and turns towards him, now smiling dangerously at him.
“Let’s start with some dinner tonight. Maybe some dessert afterwards.”
For a moment, Mike stares at him, surprised at the bold invitation, but nods as soon as his brain catches up with Harvey’s words. “Yeah, sounds good.”
++++
That night, they acquaint themselves in the dark with a desperate intensity, picking up right where they'd left off as though the past three years had never gone by; their hands and mouths trace heated flesh while old memories return. They touch each other with an effortlessly familiar want that could only be the spark for the beginning of something definitively long-lasting.