Spoilers/Timeline: None/Set in the future

A/N: This is the first time I've written a full length M fic for these two so... yeah, enjoy? :) Thanks to nicolemack for assistance in the planning stage.

Disclaimer: Suits doesn't belong to me. Title from Keith Urban's Long Hot Summer

"How many towels did you put under here?"

"I needed something to catch the water until you got back." She sighs heavily, attempts to keep the irritation out of her voice, but she knows he can tell. He always can. "Just how long does it take to draw up a codicil?"

"Mike wrote the original."

It's all she needs to hear. She rolls her eyes, watching as he disappears under the bathroom sink.

"And you couldn't find a bowl or something to—"

The rest of his words are lost in the muffle of wet towels he tosses towards her as he begins trying to figure out where the leak is coming from. There's no way he's going to even attempt to fix this, but at least he can stop every towel they own from being ruined before the plumber can get there.

He turns onto his side, curses as piles of beauty products topple like dominoes, and starts making room for the basin he'd unearthed in the copy room at work. From this new position he can see the bottom of her bare legs swinging against the side of the tub where she'd perched as soon as he'd announced his plan to keep them from needing a tugboat in their own home.

Water sprays across his neck, drips down his back, but he barely notices it as her ankles cross, her foot bouncing to some unknown rhythm.

"...awfully long to put a bucket under a pipe. Do I need to draft a memo with instructions on where it should go?"

"Well, maybe if I didn't have to move a bazillion bottles of shower gel..."

"Please..." She laughs and he can just imagine how her head is tipped to the side, the teasing smile spreading across her face as she decides just which rebuttal to send back at him. "At least half of those are your hair products."

"Nice clothes, great hair, it's part of the job."

"Yes, blame the job, as always."

It's an old exchange by now, one they could probably recite in their sleep, but he still finds it oddly comforting. That not only does she know him this well, she accepts it.

Accepts him.

Not that there haven't been times when she's wanted to kill him and vice versa, but they never aim to change either. Challenge? Yes. Change, not a chance.

"Almost done? I'm starting to get concerned that you're going to catch pneumonia under there."

He doesn't reply, instead just slides out from under the sink, his shirt sticking to him, face wet, goosebumps raised on his forearms. He's barely to his feet when she pounces, pushing him against the vanity, the doors banging shut as he groans against her.

Peeling his shirt off, she lifts an eyebrow, smiles as the coolness from his skin seeps into her. It makes her dizzy. Hot. And she sighs, her eyes slamming shut as his hands skim down her body, pushing off her tiny sleep shorts and panties as they do.

"God, so..." His forehead presses to hers, fingers flexing on her hip as he inhales sharply. "Gorgeous."

She lets the word wash over her a minute, feels the thudding of heart and then—

"What the hell?"

She gasps as his tongue sweeps over her shoulder, his body presses to hers and she suddenly—so damn suddenly she's not entirely sure how the fuck it happened—finds herself with her back to the vanity, the counter cutting into her lower back.

"You didn't think..." He steps away, the corner of his mouth lifting as he kicks out of his pants. "I was going to let you have all the fun."

"Well, I was hoping." Grinning, she lifts herself onto the counter, tilts her head towards him. "After all, who saved the Gambino case? I think whoever it was deserves a rich reward..."

"Mmm, of course, they do." He rushes forward, mouth crashing down on hers as he pulls her roughly to him. Her tongue strokes over his and he groans, the silkiness of her pajamas pressed against his chest, her leg hitched over his hip, causing his head to spin.

Heart to pound.

(For a split second he thinks this might be over before it really starts.)

"I mean... Oh..." She moans, fingers threading through his wet hair, head tipping back as his lips brush across her jaw and he slides home.

"What were you saying?" He presses a kiss to that spot on her neck, flexes his hand against the counter. "Something about rewards?"

"Mmm." Nodding, she smiles up at him, challenge and love and desire swirling in her eyes. "I mean, it... oh shit, Harvey... move..."

He waits a second, two, and then he does, one hand still pressed to the counter, the other slipping under her shirt and stroking across her back as he rocks into her.

"You always... deserve..." He groans, heat gathering low in his back as she presses her heel against his ass, drawing him even closer. "Think I do, too... Can't have us floating away..."

Laughing, she lets her head tip back, hair fanning over her shoulders. "No, never want that... Shit, I'm..."

"Yeah, you are." Hitching her leg a little higher on his side, he thrusts into her harder, his mouth attacking every spot he knows drives her crazy: the pulse point below her jaw, the spot on her collarbone, the corner of her mouth. Her nails dig into the back of his neck, her breathing becoming shallow as warmth blooms on her cheeks.

"Yes, right... oh... yesyesyesyesssss..." She comes, her arm flying out and knocking several bottles to the floor as the heat rushes over her.

He leaves and returns once, twice, more and then follows after her, chanting her name low in her ear as he comes.

"Well..." She brushes a strand of hair from his forehead and tries to steady her breathing. "I think we both won."

"How could we not?" Stepping back, he sighs as she pushes the fallen bottles into the pile of the ones from under the cabinet and starts towards their room. "We're just that good."

"No argument here."

"You know though..." He grins, leaning down to check the sink before following after her. "If you wanted to get soaked, all you had to do was ask..."