"i can’t date anyone from work, right?" harvey murmurs, voice raspy and soft.
mike’s shirt is rucked up above his belly button. he won’t tell harvey, won’t let the older man hold that embarrassing moment against him too. the cold air of their condo has goosebumps pebbling his skin, his flesh stretched too tight over his hip bones, his nipples, his collarbones. he’s languid and loose in the aftermath of being fucked, pliant and stretched. everything in his body has gone warm with how much love he feels: harvey has always been so, so good to him, and now that mike has permanently moved in with harvey, everything is so much realer. their relationship has become a tangible thing, spread across every surface.
tipping his head back to make eye contact with harvey, mike stretches his lower half and shrugs.
harvey’s eyes slip past his face: trace the sinews pulling in his calves and in his groin, the pattern of redness across the inside of his thighs. mike’s gaped up hole, when he finally turns over onto his stomach and props his face on his hands. it’s a reminder, kind of: look at what you’ve got, look at how confident you’ve made me, look at what i am with you. it’s an ode to the sherbet colored twilight shining through harvey’s huge windows: look at how i wear the sky, see how well my pale body looks marked up and swollen against your kitchen floor.
heavy lidded, a hand outstretched to touch at his bent arms. harvey asks, “are you trying to distract me?”
mike bites his lower lip. harvey should be able to see, when he ruts his hips forward, how his cock and balls drag on the floor, how he leaves behind trails of wetness.
"you don’t have to convince me, y’know," harvey’s expression softens into an expression that leaves mike breathless.
something expands in mike’s chest, threatening to choke him. he cants his hips up, lifting his bum into the air. they need to go to bed soon. both of them are working on a huge case together, and their deposition is tomorrow. still, mike’s cock is leaking against the floor, harvey’s eyes following his every move, a golden ring glinting around his ring finger like a reminder that whatever previous speed bumps they had, there are no more. they don’t matter anymore.
harvey just had him like this, but he’s crawling forward again. they kiss soft and gentle, harvey’s teeth catching against his lower lip in a way that makes him purr.
"i’m going to make you so happy, rookie," harvey murmurs.
mike feels as comfortable as he’s ever felt, spread out on the kitchen floor, a ratty harvard shirt pulling taut across the ridges of his spine and the jut of his shoulder blades, bruises the color of donna’s burgundy lipstick against his neck.
as much as he tries not to, mike’s voice shakes when he says, “i can’t wait to marry you.”
it’s a beginning of another sort when harvey pushes back into his body, their hips rubbing together as they pant into the silent condo.