Harvey knows how valuable Donna is. And yeah, all those years he was well aware of all of her skills, in every capacity. But if you're following a rule you're warned is important to keep her around, you learn to compartmentalize.
The woman is a sensual being. Skilled everywhere in that neverending body of hers. But for thirteen years he'd refocused all his attention on her brain and professionally beneficial talents, until they became his normal thoughts. Not that the right dress or the right body position couldn't become a sharp reminder, but for the most part, their arrangement had worked.
They'd established a dam, built on a rule mixed with both of their fears. In a rare moment, he could open a curtain and stare through the proverbial barrier for brief moments, but it was solid all the same.
Until the dam was burst, by long strides crossing the threshold to her. Now his only barrier is flimsy propriety and the real world between them, and after having a taste of every inch of her, and feeling her taste every part of him with their mutually endless talents, he's insatiable for her alone.
All those years of holding back, and nothing is held between them anymore. Not an inch of clothing or space, especially in the shadows of their homes.
That morning they're skin on skin, her hand on his rapidly hardening dick when the one thing that seems to come between them most these days interferes by way of emergency tone on his phone.
Louis.
He'd insisted all of the firm install an app that pushed through urgent texts with an alarm tone, and Harvey had told him to fuck off. But Donna, being the peacemaker she was, had stolen his phone after distracting him with her mouth one night and he hadn't dared jinx her taking away that extra something she was doing to him with her tongue.
So that's how he's drawn into work that morning. Early, left unsatisfied with a fading hard on and an impossible workload.
Disabling the app was the first order of business that morning.
Clients had been extra demanding. Since Robert had taken the fall for something he'd fucked up with in regards to Donna, the partners are all looking to him to offset the pressure.
Normally, a day like today his arousal would long be swallowed up by stress and monotony. But today, Donna decided to wear that dress.
The one that dipped too low, fit too snugly, and slit too high. The one that's black and he just knows her lingerie matches. The one she'd last wore when the a/c was out and sweat trickled down her cleavage and got it damp enough his imagination ran wild. The one she'd worn when they'd been working side-by-side for the day— a month or so before they collided naked —and he couldn't stop getting whiffs of her perfume and shampoo mixed with the heat. All he'd wanted to do that day is rip it off of her and all his groin wants to do today is bury itself inside.
He contemplates his relief. Louis is demanding they have a near all-nighter to brainstorm ways to help Grumberg-Sloane out of some contract negotiations he's not really paying attention to. Donna isn't in her office when he finds excuses to pass by. She's busy chatting with associates when he catches her in conference room B. Grumberg is in his office both times she passes by his office, her flashing him a suggestive smile when he's well beyond needing suggested anything because it's playing in his head like a porn GIF on repeat.
He's about to demand a Partner-COO private meeting in a locked broom closet when he learns she's out to dinner with the management for their temp agency.
He contemplates the bathroom. A stall even though it's multi-sex. Except... he's not exactly silent. The stall doors are thin. He sees the headline:
Specter-Litt-Wheeler-Williams Named Partner Harvey Specter Caught and Arrested Masturbating At Firm and Charged with Sexual Harassment
His dick remains twitching. He survived Mike Goddamn Ross. He's not going down for not holding out for a few hours and nervous Nia from accounting getting the shock of her life when she came in for another piss.
Boston. Think of Boston. Baseball. Bats. Boxing. Basketballs. Balls. Butts. Boobs. Blowjobs.
Fuck!
Thoughts of her tinted sensuous lips losing all product around his cock until they're virgin color gets him back to square one.
This is ridiculous. Donna is everything to him but he should be able to handle a full day without her tending. Except, he can't. Or he doesn't want to. She's back on his desk only this time she's on his mental desk, ready for him and naked at the close of his eyes, a promise of fulfillment every time he gets them alone. And fulfilled they both are. He never wants to be without her again.
He's really had enough. He's calling Louis and feigning a cold, the flu, or maybe heart palpitations. Anything to relieve this goddamn ache between his legs that makes him feel sixteen again.
Maybe he is feverish. He's flushed and his suit feels like it smothering him.
Maybe he has Scarlet fever.
Red-headed, pale-skin-with-thousands-of-spots-on-the-flush-of-aroused-skin fever.
He could chance knocking out quick relief here. He doesn't want to go home because then she'd show up there, worry, and figure out the lie within thirty seconds and want to know why. And she'd never let him hear the goddamn end of it.
His eyes are closing, head falling back as he's weighing the consequences when he hears the click of heels.
She fills the room the moment she steps in. Beauty, grace, perfume, sex. He's overwhelmed by her. Needing her. Maybe no less so than that first night. It's ridiculous to miss her when he works on the same floor and spends all his nights in the same bed, flushed bodies together and pressed. But he does.
She smiles, now standing in front of him. He's crossed his legs, hoping that by some impossible chance she doesn't see his current state. While still wishing she randomly comes up with the idea of servicing him herself and takes care of the problem.
No such luck. She's looking him over, scanning his face with a bend of her head and a wrinkle in her brow and he knows she's not letting this go. A pulse throbs his temple.
"You don't look well. You're stressed," she says with a slight scold. She saunters forward, bending towards him and giving him an ample view down her dress. She smooths a thumb along the outline of his hair. "Did you let Morris Grumberg get you worked up?"
She plants a quick kiss on his lips. They dare that way sometimes now. People know but they don't advertise. She's the pinnacle of professionalism and he does his best to resist arguing the decision. Much.
He's not thinking about clients. Her tits are mesmerizing and he's dying to let multiple parts of himself get lost in them.
She's pausing, scanning his face. She frowns, her eyes darting down. He catches her lip's part for a split second as she registers the situation in his lap. "You're hard."
"I'm aware."
"Why?"
"You know why." He motions around her, indicating the dress and what's in it.
"Just now?" she asks, her eyes wide.
He shakes his head.
"All day?"
"The sound of Louis's voice defeated it a few times."
"I had no idea you were into nasal and cranky," she teases.
"Donna," he warns, his irritation growing rapidly.
She stifles a laugh. "Let's go home." She grabs his fingers and pulls.
"I can't. Louis wants me to do a half-nighter and he'll be back in fifteen minutes."
"Then what are you doing with that?" An index finger points toward his lap.
He bends his head, pleading for her to fix this like she fixes so many things.
"Harvey, this is the office. We agreed–"
"I never agreed to that." He pouts, feeling petulant.
She looks away, briefly, and he almost wonders if she's considering.
"If I do this, what about my needs? You're sending me home alone and unfulfilled?"
"I bought you that thing," he tries.
"Harvey 2.0 is very effective."
He feels a pinch of jealousy. "Don't call it—"
"Are you sure that's the hill you want to die on right now?" she arches a brow.
His lips smash together. "You like my mouth more."
"Right now he's offering to care for my needs."
"I could arrange it here too. And again when I get home." He plays his lips into a smirk.
She's biting the inside of her cheek.
He tilts his head, eyes darting beside them. "There is a desk to bend over."
"I'm not getting caught being fucked over your desk by Louis."
Hunger kicks in, and he grips her by the hips and jerks her forward, his knee fitting in the slit and parting between her thighs. Her lips have fallen open, chest rising. Her top teeth find her bottom lip.
She bends down, hands resting on the back of his club chair on each side of his head. Her lips tease his, breath hot and just below the speed of a pant. She's just out of reach unless he aggresses again. He lets her toy with him, like he knows they both appreciate.
"Are those pants uncomfortable?" she asks.
"Check," he demands.
Her head inches forward, their lips a hair away from touching when her palm connects with him. He closes his eyes and low groans and when they open, her eyes are darting nervously out the glass. He captures her lips, silencing her worry long enough for tongues to coax a whimper out of her throat.
They pull apart, and she's still stroking him over his pants. He thinks he could almost come like this if she added just a bit more pressure around the tip.
Her eyes are hooded as she stares at him. "I know you could have handled this."
His hand finds the part in her dress slit, knuckles brushing a path up, starting from inner mid thigh. "Me getting caught handling this alone makes me a creep who gets charged with sexual harassment. With you, it's someone walking in at an awkward moment."
"You've way over thought this."
"I'm not a lawyer for nothing." His knuckles hit lace and he applies pressure against the right spot. She sucks in breath and his other hand presses her hand harder into him.
All humor leaves both of their faces, a silent dare passing between them because they know they're a hyper second away from no return.
She breaks them first, gripping both of his wrists and he thinks she might have decided to stop them, before she's pulling him up and pushing him until the backs of his shins hit his sofa. She coaxes him to remove his coat, then a palm to the chest forces him to sit.
His legs are wide, relaxed and daring her to do what she wanted with him. She hikes her dress a bit and perches side-saddle on his thigh, arm finding his shoulder to steady herself. She leans in to kiss him again, mouth pulling in his top lip with a sweep of her tongue before they're open and wanting. His fingers bury in her hair and he has half a mind to part her legs around his waist and carry her to the desk anyway.
But then she's pulling back, his mouth almost unable to let go as it seeks her, and she's expertly undoing his clasp and zipper. He loops an arm around her waist to steady her since she's struggling with one hand to set him free over the waistband of his boxer briefs.
His cock hits his belly, balls slightly constricted by the band resting just beneath. Her fingers encircle him, giving a few strokes and then her thumb brushes over the tip, spreading moisture. She relishes in him, squeezing, gripping different areas as she works on him. His breath is already measured and he's holding back the primal needs taking over for a quicker release. He wants more of her but he's not complaining having her in control.
She shimmies her hips, never losing her grip and for a moment he's confused when she's off his leg. Her dress is hitched up further and she's suddenly kneeling between his legs. She does a quick look behind toward the glass and he meets her eyes and shakes his head, signaling he'll keep her safe. He's not letting her feel anything but pleased by the end of this.
She leans forward, licking him from base to tip in several long strokes. Her mouth encircles his head and he groans.
"Fuck." Her name encircles his brain, drawing out his desire and want of her like siren to his life. She's everywhere. Around every corner and thought and she tangles him up in every curve and depth of the warmth and feeling of home she surrounds him with.
She takes him deeper on each stoke down, saliva pooling down the sides and collecting lower. He threads fingers in her hair, gently coaxing her like she likes, but tensing to do his best to keep still. The feeling of her mouth's suction along with the sounds she's making on him nearly gets him there in record time.
His approach and their limited minutes makes him signal her up. He pledged her release too and he's not letting her leave without his now nightly witnessing of her letting go.
He helps her on his thigh again, nudging her inner knee. "Part your legs."
She glances once more outside but he's keeping watch. His fingers waste no time to meet her center this time, pulling aside lace and fingers parting lips. She pulls his coat to cover their laps and takes hold of him with her closer hand again, stroking him with speed while she wiggles until he can get a pair of fingers inside.
She grips his forearm and cries out from the intrusion, burying her face in his neck while she adjusts. He twists them inside, gaining depth while his thumb flicks a sloppy rhythm on her clit. He's hoping it's enough to get her there because his focus is admittedly growing foggier with the sloppy noises escaping between both their legs. Her mouth's cries work a perfect melody with the feeling of her hands around his cock, and the power of his fingers working her to the edge.
He sucks a free spot on her neck, eyes glued to the glass while she begins to writhe on his lap. He's tensing, pressure growing inside and out, and his ability to hold back grows unsteady before it has fallen away. His groin pulls together tightly, then all lets go before he can reign it in again. All pulses out in a flow, several spurts over her hand and under his suit coat. The intensity dissipates while the sensation has spread through his limbs.
The release momentarily stuns him but he pushes through the fog and continues his work on her, feeling her warmth and wetness grow as she's soaked his fingers. Her thighs are growing shaky and she's clenching around him, working to chase her demise. His mouth finds her neck again, tongue and lips dragging down to taste the sweat droplets forming between her cleavage. His thumb flicks with more precision, pace steady while leaning forward to get a better position with more leverage to reach the perfect motion inside. Fingers are curled, far from gentle while both her weakest places are played the way he's learned to perfect.
His name is repeated and breathless out of her lips the way she often does. Begging him for mercy while never wanting him to stop. Right about when his arm is fatigued she muffles her cry out into his shoulder, body undulating against him as she pulses around his fingers. He waits for all to subside before he pulls them out slowly, letting her adjust to her fall and the absence it creates. She's breathing heavy, more so even then him and pride swells inside him at the sight of her.
When she returns to him and meets his eyes, his pulls her in, lips on lips. Something about the nakedness of coaxing them to part, skin to skin, expressing in the ways they'd been holding back for so many years sometimes feels the most intimate of all. So much left unsaid now said between their lips, sometimes with words but often with just the reassuring feel of them joining in the most loving ways. He smiles when they pull apart and hers is soft but still present while he smooths her hair with his unsoiled hand and helps her straighten her dress.
He pulls away his coat and seeing how it's ruined for the night he uses it to help wipe her hand. He orders his pants with her help and just when they're almost settled, Louis is striding into his office.
A panic forms between them because too much is still present on both of them but he evens his face, hoping Donna is doing the same.
Louis shifts his eyes between the two of them, a crease in his brow. "Did I interrupt something?"
"No Louis, Donna and I were just catching up before she goes home for the night and we chat business."
Donna stands and adjusts her dress some more and he hopes Louis doesn't notice the very present flush all over her skin he'd been the cause of. The secrets her fair skin reveals is one of his favorite things he now has no idea how he'd lived without. Normally undoing Donna was a positive, but if Louis picked up on it she'd be far from amused.
"I sent you an emergency text, Harvey. The meeting was cancelled Alex worked it out. You could've gone home an hour ago."
He feels blood rush to his face.
"Harvey?" Donna raises her brow.
"It must have been disabled." He plasters a confident smile despite noticing Donna's shoulders tense.
"Be sure to have Benjamin look at it. And are you both coming down with something? You look ill."
"I think we are Louis. Maybe we should take a day tomorrow."
She shoots him a look, but he feels justified after the past twelve hours. He's having a day of naked with her and he's not feeling bad about it. She's doing an almost imperceptible shake of her head and he's hoping it means he'll get playfully scolded later.
"Fine. Just make sure you have the app running."
"We will," she answers.
Louis does a firm look between them, a confused press of his lips and walks out.
"Not," he says, finishing her sentence when Louis is out of earshot.
"Harvey." She sighs.
"We just did that."
"And we wouldn't have needed to if you had followed the rules."
"Are you saying you wish we hadn't? You seemed to like it."
"Louis almost walked in on us. What would you have done if he walked in three minutes sooner?"
"Then he would have needed the day."
She rolls her eyes. "You're incorrigible."
"I'm happy."
"You should be after that."
"And you?"
"I'm waiting for you to take me home for that promised round two. And then I'll be happy."
He can't hold back a grin, pulling them both away to clean up and take her home, planning on giving her the real Harvey 2.0.
A/N's: I know I should be updating my other WIP's but 8B happened and then some heavy life stuff(ugh, I feel like a broken record). I'm still planning to update/finish but I needed some light and fun and this just sort of happened. Hope you enjoyed!
As usual, thanks to my B-B-Eautiful friends and support I get from the fandom. You're all the best I could ask for.