Warning ahead of time: My brain is warped and I keep getting roped into these unique M-rated situations. Be warned, this is a little unconventional. Dedicated to Ali(donnapspecter) and AlexSuitsandMore on Twitter, who coaxed? me into this.
Harvey isn't who she'd expected to be spinning her around the dance floor at Mike and Rachel's wedding. And if someone had suggested two months ago he'd be pressing her close, whispering dirty things in her ear, splaying a hand south on her spine, and ever so randomly pressing his thigh in the slit of her dress to press where her thighs met, she'd have cackled them and threw them out of her office. She's enjoying the change though, especially with their growing list of private rituals he's suggesting for when he gets her out of her dress.
Everything about watching two of the most important people in your lives finally tie the matrimony knot is as surreal as she could expect. Rachel is ethereal with the grace of a princess and Mike floats so high on happiness he might as well be inside his own daydream. The romance is as contagious as a virus, taking everyone of them further into the spell of celebrating while saying goodbye to their friends, whether they wore a Harvey-sized dose of pessimism or not.
The dream-like distraction isn't enough to calm her whirlwind of stress. When you're the maid-of-honor, your job is to be an every woman sort of friend, from checking so every detail on the bride is perfect, to being a go between for battling family and friends. She's in charge of fielding wedding staff questions, handling anyone from cousins to parents, and socializing all while creating the perfect speech and still being her gorgeous self, along with coordinating with the planner(because who is anyone kidding, the true master of the plan is her).
All of the responsibilities are Donna's greatest forte. And yet, the pressure of being this version of herself all while celebrating with the news of Mike and Rachel's departure hanging like an angry, invisible cloud in the ballroom has her nerves completely shattered. She hasn't been able to tame the building loss in her chest, threatening to spill out all over the pristine marble floors.
She's about to go berserk levels of angry on the catering crew when Harvey wraps fingers around her arm and drags her away.
"Come with me," he coaxes as he pulls her through the reception of guests.
"Harvey, I've got about ten-thousand shoes to fill."
He drags her past the bar, grabbing a glass of champagne as he does, through the open door of a utility room.
"We don't have time for this. The caterer is about to-"
He cuts her off, handing her the glass he's already taken a drink from. She holds back her tirade of everything ready to spill from her lips and drains the glass.
He takes it from her, setting it on a table just inside the doorway. "All those shoes can stay empty for awhile. This is important."
She drops her shoulders, waiting while he sits on an empty chair near the back wall in front of folded tables. He curls his finger for her to follow. His lips purse together, mischief and want peeling out of his expression, his eyes dragging from the peek of bare legs to her face.
She narrows her eyes, her pulse accelerating. "Oh no. I'm not letting you muss up what took hours and lots of money to perfect."
"Then we'll just have to get creative."
She points to the open doorway. "Anyone can walk right in here."
"Like I said; creative. Sit," he demands while motioning to his thighs, his expression matching his voice.
She stares at his lap. "Are you serious?"
He rolls his eyes. "Sit, Donna."
A throb hits low, jolting her into tempted submission. God he makes her pathetic. She starts to perch on his thigh, but he stops her, turning her to face him before his hands slip between her dress slit and part her thighs, then scoop behind the fabric to jerk her forward over his bent knee. His fingers brush her bare skin high on the backs of her upper legs in a tease, then pull away, settling at her waist and yanking her down until her panties met thigh. Her eyelids flutter, heat pooling between her legs.
Her arms encircle his neck to help steady the wobbly feeling the position causes. He shifts his leg and it changes the pressure, and a light pant escapes her lips. "H-harvey. What're you doing?"
His grip pulls down on each side of her waist, shifting his leg around until her slit hits muscle, her clit grinding. A small grunt escapes.
His eyes lock on hers. "This isn't about me, it's about you."
He continues slight changes to his leg, and in spite of herself she's helping.
Heat reaches her cheeks as her movements betray her propriety. "I know we've gotten pretty comfortable lately, but I'm not sure I'm this comfortable."
He kisses her then, easy tongue and leisure quickly taking her mouth, slipping from her lips, to chin, and then finally neck. His leg bounces as he devours her, hitting against her harder until her insides clench.
"Do you want to stop?" he asks, in more of a dare than a question.
Her breaths have become thready, and despite feeling the blush in her cheeks, the need to keep moving already answers for her. She shakes her head, words buried low on the list behind pleasure.
"Well then you're about to get more comfortable." He sucks at the spot that gives her goosebumps under her ear, coaxing her hips to move in circles all while he uses his thigh to enhance the pendulum against her center. His lips brush her ear. "And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."
She shivers at the admission, her eyes hooding. Any ability to protest at his arrogant satisfaction of talking her into this a fraying thread. "I'm not sure you've earned my display." She speeds her movements, building pleasure growing low in her belly.
Involuntary sounds keep escaping from her throat, and she fights the urge to slow and have a look out the door. "You better be watching for anyone com..." She rethinks the word. "Walking in."
"Trust me, I'm watching," he manages with strain.
He presses her down harder, the release feeling so close but just out of reach. Her movements grow erratic, fatigue quickly making her panic she'll be left on edge. "I'm so close...but I can't..."
He pauses his assistance, removing a hand from her waist, throwing her rhythm off. Then he slips fingers between her and his leg, shifting the lace of her panties to the side just enough to brush her clit. She whimpers at the contact.
"Grind," he grits out, with power like he's the commander to her army of undoing.
All posturing is gone at this point, his abrasive order taking her fast. The friction with his added fingers builds the last blocks, gripping her hard and strong with a shuddered breath. Tingling spasms stretch to her toes, heating her face and tensing her center in pleasured pulsation as she rides out her last waves.
She tries to even herself, breaths and shaky limbs still spread over his panted leg.
He removes his fingers, sucking them between his lips. "That, was one of the hottest things I've seen you do." He helps her adjust her dress and legs until she's planted side-saddle on his thigh.
She arches a brow, staring at his bulging lap. "Apparently." She drags nails over his protruding evidence, teasing until he sucks in a breath.
His face buries in her hair, nose tickling her ear before he pulls her lobe between his teeth. He sucks it gently while she continues playing him with variable pressure, finally taking her mouth in a devouring kiss when she grips him more firmly.
"Someone said they came in here," Mike's voice breaks their moment from outside the door.
Donna straightens, removing her hand from its current work.
"Here you both are. Everything all right? Donna, you look flushed." Mike narrows his eyes.
She stiffens, her brain still in a cloud from her orgasm.
"She was getting a headache so I brought her in here to relax for a bit. I helped her decompress; she'll be okay."
Donna tenses at the humor in his voice, cursing herself for having to fall for such a cocky asshole.
"Are you sure? Maybe I should get someone? You're sweating," Mike directs at Donna.
Harvey shifts under her and she swears he's about to laugh. He's getting retribution for putting her in this...position. "Could you maybe find me some water?" she manages to choke out.
Mike darts his eyes between them, a discernment behind them. "Sure thing."
Harvey's laugh is instant when Mike disappears, a wide grin taking over his face.
She smacks her hand into his chest, standing. "You're going to pay for this."
His smile pulls back in, growing more focused when he meets her eyes. "I'm looking forward to it."
Her eyes dart up while she shakes her head. "You know you're the one that has to walk around with a wet thigh."
He shrugs. "It's dim lighting, these are dark pants", he motions, "and that was worth it."
She cocks her head, amazed at the audacity of him.
"Are you more relaxed?" he challenges.
Her lips pull in as she fails at anything else but the truth. "Yes. What made you think of such a thing?"
His smile fades and he looks far off. "I don't know. It just came to me."
Her face falls, her body drifting back. "Bullshit. What was this about, Harvey?"
His head falls to the side, clearly annoyed he's been caught. "Mike bet I couldn't make it to the end of the night without...Sneaking you off."
"This was to win a bet? By getting me off passively?"
"I wasn't all that passive."
"Harvey!"
He stands, stepping toward her, face pouty and soft. "No, this was about relieving stress for my girlfriend, without ruining her outfit. If I get to stick it to Mike's stupid bet it's a bonus."
"You're NOT telling him about this."
"You don't think he doesn't already suspect by the way he ran out of here?" He points toward the reception.
"Then you will lose this damn bet and tell him we banged instead."
His brows dart up. "That's your preference?"
She thinks on it. "Yes."
"Then I should've just banged you."
Her mouth falls open. "And you said you enjoyed my display."
"I did. But this is my last bet with Mike before they leave. You can't make me lose. Then it ends with him having the upper hand." He sounds like a whiny puppy and it makes him seem so pathetic.
"This is his wedding, and you've beaten the poor guy plenty of times. Give the kid what he's always wanted and tell him we couldn't hold out the whole wedding. He's been shipping us since he was a rookie. It will be like a wedding present."
Harvey's shoulders fall. "Fine. How long until I actually get to have you out of that dress?"
"Two hours, give or take a few interruptions. But you're reciprocating for what you just watched."
"And how are you going to do that? Am I coming on your thigh?"
She scrunches her face. "I'd prefer between my thighs in that scenario." Her feet draw them closer, laying a palm flat against his tie. "Don't you worry though, Mister. I'll think of something." She exits the door then, taking the water Mike arrives with as Harvey follows closely in tow. She can practically hear him listing scenarios as he deducts whether she's planning pleasure or pain. In her mind she'll have both, while getting to watch for a change.
He pulls her back to the dance-floor before the night is over, holding her extra close. "You know I never did thank you."
Her brow pulls together. "For what?"
"Helping me get my mind off things as much as I was helping you."
"Mike and Rachel?"
"Yeah."
"We'll still see them, Harvey. And we'll help each other through it." He pulls her against him again, face bent down to rest on the side of her head, and suddenly the distraction feels a lot less like a planned show on his part and somehow landed in the category of sweet. She may watch him get off tonight, but she's definitely helping.
More ridiculous A/N's: I really, really can't explain this. I'm a bit mortified I just posted it on the internet. And I have no idea how the fandom will like it. Tell me? If you're inclined, so I don't fret this was a really bad decision.