AN: Because of LJ's comment character limit, the chapters on suitsmeme are shorter. For every 5 or so there, I post one in the other places. LJ's "skuzzbopper" and I have parted ways merely due to living entirely different lives, so I'm back to writing this on my own. I've reworked this chapter, as well as polished up the first two, and will get the final two up A.S.A.P. Enjoy.

-Kaile

That was the moment in which Mike's universe started to turn.

Why did he tell Harvey he "helped"? Why would Harvey need his help? Why did Harvey look nervous? Does he think I'll tell the office he likes guys? Did he want Brian to throw me off so I'd keep quiet? But, why did Harvey look so mad? ...

The faux associate's mind was riddled and cluttered with enigmas that seemed not to end.

"Mike! Are you listening?," asserted Justin, finally breaking past Mike's thoughts. Mike, nevertheless, stared dubiously back.

Justin sighed, and scratched the back of his head. "I said that I'm sorry. ... I knew it was him, and just wanted to know what game he was playing. I should've ... would any one know the proper reaction in that situation?," he spoke softly, barely able to move.

Looking away, "No, you're right. I get it," Mike attested. He hung his head and let out a laugh.

Due to the sheer awkwardness swarming around them, trapped in such a small space, Justin laughed, too. "What?," he implored, ducking his head forward.

"Nothing. Never mind. ... Har- ..." The last word was muttered on top of not being completed, but Justin could see clearly the name that was written all over his current lover's face. He knew that, at least subconsciously, Mike understood what it was like to have all of one's life questions come down to one answer, one name. He just hadn't thought Mike was in that deep yet.

Maybe it was to stave off his own guilt, but Justin endured, "Really?".

"I'm a relatively cute guy with an eidetic memory, but you—you—you're ... And, with him? ... I—I know that I'll never match up to Mr. Incredible, Mr. Sexy And Audacious. I don't have the experience, slick style, or the ability to smile as if every body in the fucking universe should know to be grateful I'm alive, and my ties will never be wide enough!, so I understand how you could be so easily distracted by him, and forget all about me and my fucking skinny ties! Freakin' Fredo," Mike finally finished raving, wrenching at the tie that he still had on from earlier in the day, and sat back down on the same chair he had been in moments before in attempts to calm himself.

Justin bent – still standing – in to contoured shape that his boyfriend's body was making, and fixed him with a look. "I can get you a new tie. Nice and thick," the blonde mused, both patronizingly and flirtatiously.

Mike guilelessly bore in to the back of the chair in exacerbation. If only he could tell that his boyfriend knew that it wasn't Mike's ties, him, or his seemingly ever-present ex that was the sole herald of his frustration. Harvey.

The tortellini meal was consumed in a near comfortable silence, thanks to both parties muting any, and all, questions in their respective heads, and enjoying the here-and-now.

This condition lasted until they were in Justin's bedroom after making out on the couch for a while. By now, Justin has shed Mike of his crumpled skinny-tie and was working on the buttons of his shirt, his lips pressed against his throat, but not kissing. His mind was elsewhere, with someone who wasn't this young, cute lawyer.

... And by now, even Mike knew where his thoughts really were. But, at this point, neither of them cared. They'd take what they could get "in the moment".

Mike allows his shirt to hit the floor, his hands pulling at Justin's fly, absent-mindedly tugging it down and pushing a hand inside. For a second, as it always did, his consciousness flickered and flashed to Harvey - his lips curled in that smirk of his, his fingers twirling his pen like a magic wand as he commanded a targeted client to sign - but the thought was gone in seconds, his synapses refusing to dwell on the unattainable, and he pulled Justin out of his pants, wrapping his fingers around his girth.

Justin had wanted to move on, really, but had already learned the hard way years ago that there was no moving on from Brian Kinney - not for him - so, as his mouth formed a dull 'o' against the neck of the man whom was in the process of getting naked with him in his bedroom, he began adjudicating with the voices in head; as Mike started jerking him off, Justin's brain scurried to painlessly make it the last time. But, just how was he going to get out of this mess – painlessly, or otherwise? Mike would never cheat on him the way Ethan had so past experience didn't provide applicable suggestions.

Mike breathed out a soft sound emulating some thing halfway between frustrated and hopeless. The worst part was, here was the ex, right where Justin needed him to be – finally in New York and just waiting for him to drop Mike and come home to him. It was like he knew that no matter how hard he tried, Justin would never be able to walk away. Of course Brian knew that. He already reminded the callow lawman of –. Mike knew that type of guy – that type of "over"-confident asshole. And, he knew that once you were lost to him, there was no going back.

The blonde pushed Mike onto the bed and forcefully shucked his pants off. It was an uncharacteristic move, but he needed – and wanted – to be some one else. The Justin Taylor he knew himself to be would never make the life of a sweet guy like Mike any more twisted and complicated than it had to be, yet here he was, so he couldn't be himself. He made Mike rub harder by grinding towards the bed with Mike crushed in between.

Mike didn't know what had gotten into his usually temperate boyfriend, but he liked it. With a groan, he rocked his hips upward, arching toward the sweet friction Justin was using to subdue him, gladly allowing him to take control. Again, Harvey's smirk bled through his mind's eye, that velveteen "Good Boy" he'd graced Mike with months prior echoed hauntingly in head like it was just hours ago that he'd first heard it. He shoved all of it back, not wanting to allow the invisible narcissists in the room any more solidity between him and the man he's – right now – flesh-against-flesh with. With his luck, though, chances were, Harvey was psychic and tomorrow he'd find a note on his desk asking why he was thinking of him while he was "bumping uglies" with his boyfriend and, inexplicably, Brian would be there, comfortably leaning and chomping on a Granny Smith, eyes volleying from to the note to Mike and back in a possessive, if albeit amused, glare.

Justin swiftly reaches towards Mike's hole to jab a finger inside, desperate to -... does he even have a plan at the moment? No, but being in any way stagnant would overload his brain with doubts. He thrusts it a few good times before adding a second.

Mike can't even believe this is Justin – that sweet guy he met just over four months ago. ... It's like a switch was flipped, and now he's some one else – some one aggressive, who takes what they want, when they want it – some one like -No, he tells himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Stop it. He can't think of Harvey right now! He just can't, but still he's there, ghosting through his mind, making him bite his lip and cling to the sheets as the phantom image of him collides with the feeling of Justin's fingers to drive him completely out of his mind.

Now crazed with memories of Brian undoing him just like this swimming through, not only his brain, but that and his entire nervous system, Justin flips Mike's legs over his shoulders to better ease in a third finger, and kisses him in a way that's all firm lips and teeth.

That kiss takes Mike's brain offline and within seconds he's screwing himself around those fingers, whining like a dog, begging for more of that hot roughness. For a second, their teeth clack together, hard enough to hurt, but he takes it in stride, contorting his limbs a little higher, taking those fingers like a pro as his mind is stuck on the image of Harvey's snaring little smile, his I'm-going-to-damn-well-win-and-before-you-can-even-recognize-what's-occurring smirk. ... Fuck. He's all he can think about, damn him.

Brian's fake pout, his self-conflicted wince, and his honest and loving smile shoot to the front of Justin's mind as a trisected set of well-documented mental images. How did they get here? How had he fucking left him? Mad at himself (mad at the world), he strips Mike's insides of his fingers and replaces them with his heavy, pounding cock with no time for Mike to miss the digits or the dick he'd been tugging at.

Eyes blowing wide at the rigid intrusion, Mike's mouth falls open in a rough gasp. "HARV—!" he cries out – bucking hard against that cock – but then the world goes still. Because he just - ... –Did he really just ...? Oh Fuck. He sucks in a long, tense breath, clenching a little around the misidentified extrinsic eight inches inside of him, wishing he could go back in time and tape his mouth shut. Or, some thing. Oh Fuck, SOME THING.

Justin quietly laughs as he drags a hand down his face. He actually catches himself wondering how that had not happened before. As much as it can, his body relaxes. He's suddenly – and finally – assured that severing his relationship with Mike will be easier than he feared. He knew that Mike was the type that, once he could admit to what he truly wanted, he'd go after it by what ever means until it was his. Like that, the weight is gone, and he decides to just enjoy one last fuck with the young and exuberant solicitor. He begins ramming in to him with free fervor.

Shocked, Mike throws his hands above his head, holding on to the headboard as he's fucked mercilessly in to the mattress. That's definitely not the response he was expecting, but Jesus!, is it phenomenal. He cries out loud and wild - pumping up on that pulsing cock like he needs it to live - flashes of Harvey and Justin and the most beautiful features of them both blending together in his mind.