She kisses him with a loud thud echoing throughout the apartment as she drops her purse to the floor. Her hands slip to his sides, fingers curling into his suit jacket as she tugs him forward. He jumps into action at the movement, stepping forward hard as his body bumps hers backward. He uses his hands to catch himself from crushing her against the wall, his body simply pinning her there as he crashes his lips against hers. She moans softly into his mouth, the gentle vibrations wrapping around his tongue.
Her mouth parts beneath his. He kisses her harder, wider, tongue sliding out to graze over the edges of her mouth. He feels her hands pull up his sides and press against his sternum. That's when he realizes her fingers are working at his jacket buttons, moving so slowly down his torso as he pushes even more off of the wall to give her better access to the buttons. Her tongue touches his forcefully and, damn he'd forgotten how good at multitasking she is; she pushes his jacket down his arms, her fingertips digging into every muscle on their trail.
He shivers beneath her touch, slamming his body into hers again as he drops a hand to her face and cups her jaw. Her hands skate over his ribcage, finding a loose place in his shirt and pulling it out from his pants. A gush of air hits his skin and he's suddenly very angry at himself for wearing so many layers of clothes.
She pushes at his shoulders. He pulls back, his mouth missing hers already, and steps backwards as she moves forward. The back of his knees hit the couch as she gestures for him to sit. He nods slowly as he does as he's told. She quickly straddles his lap, her thumbs digging into his jaw as she angles his mouth towards hers.
She kisses him hard, tongue sliding over his bottom lip. He doesn't feel like he could get her clothes off fast enough, especially when she is taking her damn time just taking his shirt off. He leans forward and reaches behind him, grabbing both shirts in his grasp as he tugs it upward. She pulls away from his mouth long enough to help rid him of his shirts, tossing them somewhere on the floor at his feet.
Her mouth descends upon his again, hands beginning to roam over his bare chest and stomach as his palms push up her spine in search of the zipper on her dress. He finds it and pulls the zipper down until it stops just above her waist. He easily slides his fingers over her skin, her flesh warm to his touch and her bones prominent beneath his fingertips.
She pulls her mouth away from his to inhale a sharp breath, her chin tilting upward with the movement. He looks up at her elongated neck, eyes tracing every curve of her throat, and he can't help kissing her there. His lips drag over the smooth flesh of her neck, teeth lightly nipping at her collarbone as his fingers find the neck of her dress and he tugs downward. Her breasts are nearly spilling over the rim of her black, lace bra as he plants kisses across her skin.
His tongue sweeps over the excessive amount of breast peeking out of her bra before he nips at the soft skin there. She yelps at the surprise, a gently giggle echoing in his ear as she presses her hand against his forehead. She kisses him lightly while she stands, the dress immediately falling to the floor and pooling at her feet. He stares at her in awe, the glow of the moon highlighting her pale skin.
She extends her hand to him, fingers wiggling in the space between them. He takes her hand and stands to his feet just so he can be closer to her. She turns as he closes the space between them, her back towards him now. He catches her by the waist with his free hand, his lips finding her shoulder. He breathes in the scent of her shampoo, her soft hair pressing against his face.
He pulls her back towards him, prying his hand from hers as he secures her in his embrace. He slips his hand along her ribs, tapping out an old song he listened to on repeat in his youth, continuing to push his hand further down her stomach. His fingertips slide over the waistband of her panties, his mouth and teeth licking and biting at her neck. He hears her inhale a deep breath, her hand snaking into his hair.
He smiles against her skin as he pushes his fingers passed the waistband, fingertips sliding over her pelvic bone. She moans softly, her fingers tugging more at his hair, and he feels a tight constriction in his pants. He dips his middle finger into her entrance and presses it into her bundle of nerves. This prompts her to take in a sharp breath. The noise drives him mad, as he turns her to face him, both of his hands leaving her. He kisses her instantly, wrapping his hands around to the back of her thighs and lifting her from the ground.
He carries her towards her bedroom, his memory retracing the path. Her calves wrap around his waist as he hears her tall heels fall to the floor, her tongue sweeping over his slightly parted lips. Her fingers dance along his collarbones, his hands sliding up her back when he crosses the threshold to her bedroom. His knees hit the mattress and he lightly sets her on the bed. His fingers search for the clasp of her bra, the ridges of the clothing prominent as she distracts him with her tongue.
Her hands find the button of his pants and she pops them open. Her hands tug at his pants and he pulls her bra off to throw it somewhere in a corner of the room. He tries not to openly gape at her as his hands trace her cleavage and dip between her breasts. She works his pants over his hips and his pants fall to the floor. He kisses her then, his thumbs sliding over her pert nipples as he pushes his palms to her hips. He pushes her back a little, thumbs hooking around her panties and pulling them down her thighs.
He kicks off his shoes and his pants, her hand wrapping around his neck while the other pushes at his boxers. With just one movement, they are evenly clothed and she's tugging him forward. Her fingers press into the muscle of his back and he kisses her. His hands push up her thighs, parting her legs only slightly. He hesitates there, sighing into her mouth as he presses his forehead against hers.
"Do you have…protection?" He mutters.
"Yeah," she replies breathily, pointing to her nightstand.
"Don't move," he replies.
One hand rests on her knee as he reaches to the drawer and digs through it in the dark. At that moment, her fingers wrap around his erection and starts pumping. He inhales a breath in surprise and slips his hand further up her leg. He finally finds what he's looking for and attempts to force the drawer closed. He turns his attention back to her, kissing her as she pries the condom from his hand.
Her hands leave his flesh to open the packaging, and she slides the condom onto him. He hums softly as her hands smooth slowly all the way up to his shaft before she grabs him by the hips to pull him towards her. He settles between her thighs, the tip of his dick teasing over her opening, and she bucks her hips. He smirks against her mouth, fingernails digging into his skin to show him that she's frustrated.
Her lips slide over to his cheek and she releases a hearty breath. His smirk is gone now and replaced with him tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He pushes into her then, the sound of her breathing echoing down his spine and baiting him. She gasps and claws at his back. He settles there, waiting for a few moments to readjust to him. Her hands slide down his back and smooth over his ass, silently pleading with him to make small waves. He sighs as he lightly presses his lips against her jaw, hands smoothing down her thighs.
He rocks against her, his hand slipping into the space between them, and he presses his thumb against her clit. He digs his hips into hers, her soft skin waning on his lips as he pulls back to breath her in. He gazes at her as she thrusts upwards, meeting him fervently. He buries his other hand into her hair, leaning into her neck as she whispers into his ear –
Don't stop
Harvey
Please
And the sound of her muttering his name makes him come undone. He groans. Her hands press into his back, fingers slipping between his ribs as she arches her back. He drops a kiss to her collarbone, his mouth lingering there as she squeezes her eyes shut. He keeps a rhythm against her moving slowly inside of her until her nails dig into his skin. His tongue darts against her skin as he quickens his pace. Her knees widen more, allowing him to enter her deeper as she moans sexily in his ear.
"Jesus," he mutters shakily.
His hand abandons its place between them in search of her hand. He finds himself pulling back to look at her, to study her beautiful, red hair spread across the mattress behind her head, and to entwine their fingers as she rolls her hips against him. He thrusts deeper, her muscles contracting around him as she comes with a gentle cry. The noise hits him in his chest, a wave of emotions bursting within him. He squeezes her hand tighter as he reaches orgasm shortly after her.
He can't form thoughts that translate into anything coherent. He isn't even sure that he's been breathing for the last few minutes. She sighs, her knee sliding along his leg as her other hand draws lazy shapes on his shoulder. His breath entwines with hers, his hand loosening its grasp on hers.
He slowly disentangles himself from her, reluctantly leaving her there alone on the bed looking so beautiful. He goes into the bathroom for a few moments before returning to find her sitting up, pulling the sheet over her. He involuntarily pouts, reaching to the floor for his boxers. She sees him and offers him a smile, slipping out from beneath the sheet.
"Where are you going?" He asks, eyebrows furrowing.
"Bathroom," she replies with a shrug.
He reaches for her, hand slipping around her waist as he pulls her into him for a kiss. He watches her go into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked behind her, and he sits on the side of her bed. He waits for her, tapping his fingers against his knees, before he throws himself back onto the mattress. She re-enters the room. He peels his eyes open and looks at her. She's wearing a bathrobe and has the bathroom light on. She closes the space between them, sliding a knee on either side of his legs. He sits upright to meet her, his arms sliding around her waist. Her hands cup his face, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone.
He could do this forever.
There is something about having her so close to him that intoxicates him. He can't stop touching her, like his brain doesn't believe this is really happening and if he does stop he will forget. He never wants to forget this. Something Louis said weeks ago still rings true for him – tell the people that you love how you really feel. Maybe that's where he always went wrong, not telling her how he really feels.
Part of him had been reluctant to say anything for fear that she would deny him. The other part of him had wanted to respect her rule even if she waived it time and time again for other men. He knew those wouldn't last, that they were just all temporary, flings that would be gone at any given moment. He wanted to last regardless of whether he was able to give her what she wanted or not so he wasn't willing to take that chance.
He would love her from a distance and be content about it. Until that night, he had never known that she wanted more from him. Until she had cornered him with questions about how and what everything means to him, he had never known. He didn't know how to translate his feelings for her into love. But lying there, now, with her head on his arm and her fingers drawing circles on his chest, he doesn't know how his feelings for her could ever translate into anything else. He had kissed her for hours, for what felt like hours, but it still didn't feel like enough to make up for lost time.
He doesn't know how to make up for lost time. That's when he says, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" She asks, palm flattening against his skin as she lifts her chin to look at him.
He turns beneath her touch to face her. His hand settles on her thigh as she slips her leg over his while she shifts just a bit closer to him. Her nails scratch along his skin just over his side, soothing shapes being etched into his flesh. He can feel the warmth radiating off of her and he thinks of all those nights in his apartment that he slept alone in pants and a long sleeved shirt. She's so warm, he wouldn't have needed that. She's so warm he never would have wanted to get out of bed.
He knows that he owes her an explanation of some kind, that he can't just give her an open ended apology without defining exactly what it is in regards to. His hand slips down her leg to rest in the bend of her knee. After all of the years of not touching her, he feels like if he doesn't touch her then this won't be real.
He swallows. He says, "For not loving you enough."
"Harvey," she starts, but she pauses and lets her thought hang in the air.
"Donna," he says, filling in the air for her, "I could have made some kind of declaration or fought for you or something. Even if you turned me down at least you would have known how I felt. At least I would have known how I felt. When I asked you to come to the firm with me, it's because I couldn't imagine my life without you. That's what I should have said."
"We were young and stupid," she replies, dismissively, "We're different people now."
"But we're still good at the sex," he says.
"Yeah we are," she says with a grin. Her fingers stop moving as the pads of her fingers press into his ribcage in an attempt to pull him closer. He smiles at her, his hand pushing up her thigh and stopping where the robe begins. "Are you hungry?"
"I could eat," he replies with a light shrug.
She slips out from beneath his touch, his hands feeling bare without her skin beneath his fingertips. His gaze follows her as she pushes herself off of the mattress and moves towards the bedroom door. He sighs softly at how short her robe is, the back of her thighs bare for him to see. He feels his breath constrict in his throat as he begrudgingly moves to the end of the bed to follow her. He follows her trail, a shiver skating through him at the cold, night air.
He picks his undershirt up off of the floor and pulls it on over his head. By the time he rounds the corner to her kitchen she's bent over and digging through her refrigerator, half of the contents of the appliance sitting on the counter. Crossing his arms in front of his chest and resting his shoulder on the doorframe, his gaze trails over her long legs and back up the expanse of her, studying her frame. He swallows thickly.
"Let me help you with that," he finally mutters, crossing into the kitchen to close the space between them. He reaches for some things in her hands as she smiles graciously. She pushes the items into his large hands, a small nod existing in the air between them. "What are we making?"
"Scones," she replies with a quick shrug.
"Scones," he repeats with disbelief, "I don't trust your cooking after that dinner party."
"It was one time," she counters, her voice raising an octave. He recoils instinctively. She kicks the refrigerator door closed and shuffles the items from his hands to the kitchen counter. She turns to him suddenly, eyes with that particular glint in them that makes his insides feel warm. She smirks, her fingers reaching to toy with his shirt. She smirks; "besides, we can make a mess of my kitchen."
"Like Mr. and Mrs. Smith?" He asks, perking up.
"That would be the total destruction of my kitchen," she replies.
"Remodeling," he corrects.