Photo Finish
Prompt 37: Harvey is at a very boring meeting with a client while Donna is at home waiting for him. So, he asks her to send some hot/sexy pictures (even nudes!) and Harvey starts having some "problems" when he starts to receive them... Up to the writer if he throws the phone to the floor with the emotions and the customer pick it up and see a picture of Donna and ask Harvey for her number without knowing she is his wife. Harvey gets jealous and cuts the meeting short
Harvey tugs his collar, barely listening as Mike prattles on about the firm and what their client could gain by signing with them. Oliver Pitt is an ass. A snot-nosed brat who can afford his own high-end services, and he doesn't understand why Mike or Rachel are giving him the time of day, but he also doesn't care. He's more preoccupied with the photo Donna sent to his phone, her afternoon shopping spree tightening his groin and leaving him frustrated with the pointless waste of a meeting when he'd rather be studying the image alone and in private.
Donna told him she was going out to look for the first half of his Christmas present during her lunch break, and he didn't think much of her smirk, up until five minutes ago when he received a picture of her standing in a change room, wearing a red lace negligee that nearly made him choke, his mind not sure how to handle to the sultry pose. He shoved the device under the table before anyone could see, taking a moment to collect himself. They're rarely apart, so suggestive texts are few and far between, but now he's had time to breathe and subtly shift the strain in his trousers, he quickly composes a text, telling her she looks sexy as hell and asking if he can see some other options.
It is his gift, after all.
"Look, I understand…"
Mike's voice draws his attention for a brief second, but he tunes the man out when his phone vibrates again, this time revealing his wife wearing a peach lace teddy that's innocently seductive, showing everything tastefully, and he swallows hard, upping the ante as his thumbs glide over the keyboard.
Something green?
He hits send, anticipation tingling under his skin as he catches Rachel's curious look. He could jump into the meeting at any time, but Mike has the situation under control, and when Donna sends a picture of her wearing nothing except a forest green g-string, he jerks, banging his knee hard under the table, and muttering a curse when Mike falters, glaring at him. He's frustrated too, for entirely different reasons, but he clears his throat, setting down the phone and forcing an apologetic smile at Oliver. "We're on call to all our clients, 24-7," he explains, hoping the excuse will cover his slip and back-up the firm's reputation. Even though he's itching to pick up his phone again, the tight throb between his legs is becoming problematic, but the device lights up on its own, another photo of Donna filling the screen and what the fucking hell? He thought he needed to swipe to open them, mortified when Oliver snickers beside him.
"Looks to me like she's not the client."
Harvey grabs the damn thing off the table, thanking every deity there is that the photo of Donna was slightly more demure than the last. She was covered, but barely, and it takes him a full second to register Oliver is still talking.
"If those are the kind of services you can offer me, then I'll gladly—"
"That's my wife," Harvey snaps, sickened by the sleazy gleam in the pimply and lanky man's gaze.
Rather than heed the warning, Oliver gleams his approval at the lawyer. "She is one hot piece of ass. Throw her into the mix and you've got yourself a deal..."
Harvey scrapes his chair back so fast it topples over, crashing to the ground as he lands his palms over the table, glaring daggers at the little shit-head who's still grinning. "If you ever, so much as think about her again, losing us as your representation won't be the only mistake you've made. This meeting is over."
"Can I at least get her phone number?"
The question enrages Harvey, and the only advantage of his anger is that his 'problem' is now non-existent as he slams the door on the way out, knowing Mike and Rachel are going to kill him, but he'll pay the damn retainer himself if he has to. They don't need a disrespectful, pubescent asshole on their books to attract attention. He's doing the firm a favour, and retreats to his office, shoving the phone into his drawer, not wanting to think about his wife being the subject of another man's fantasies.
When Mike eventually comes to find him, twenty or so minutes later, he's managed to cool down and flinches, fully expecting a lecture, and is surprised by Mike's calmness as he leans against the door, folding his arms with a smirk.
"You really need to learn how to use a phone."
"We're not signing him," he grumbles, ignoring the dig.
"Would be a little hard to do that now." Mike points out. "You basically accused him of being a pervert."
"He is." Harvey counters. Pitt is several other things as well, but he stops himself from listing them when Donna appears next to Mike, back from lunch, and in spite of his annoyance, he smirks when the younger man's face turns red.
"What's going on?" she asks, glancing between the two men.
"Teach the old man how to use a phone, would you?" Mike quickly covers his embarrassment, pushing off the door. "Save us all some grief."
She watches him leave, raising an eyebrow as she sets down the shopping bags clasped in her hands. "You didn't?"
"I didn't, the damn phone did," he defends, waving at his drawer, then registering the knowing amusement on her face. "Rachel told you." She nods, fighting a smile, and his brows furrow with confusion. "If you know… why aren't you mad?"
"Because I looked hot." She shrugs, widening her grin. "And a photo is the closest thing that little douche is ever going to get to a woman." He looks utterly perplexed as she saunters over to him. If they were at home, she'd land herself in his lap but she stops, her knee brushing his thigh as she leans against his desk. "You, on the other hand, get to enjoy what I bought."
His pulse skips as his eyes wash over her bags, dragging back to where her long legs are draped, and he bites the inside of his cheek, recognizing the husk in her voice. He knows when she's feeling happy, stressed, distracted… libidinous, and the thought of her wearing any one of the items she sent pictures of shoots a spark straight to his groin.
He clears his throat, gazing up in wonderment as his thumb brushes the hemline of her dress. "Can I see?"
"The thing is…" She edges closer so no one will overhear. "When Rachel texted, I was in such a rush to get back, I didn't exactly put everything back on."
He stares at her, the way she has her knees clenched shut making him swallow dryly as he pictures her without any underwear. "You're not wearing…" he trails off and she shakes her head, indicating the assumption is correct, and Jesus, she's going to kill him. "Copy-room, now," he growls out the demand, not about to spend the rest of the afternoon being tortured when he's painfully hard for the second time today.
"Meet me there in five," she answers, pushing off the desk, adding an extra sway to her hips. "Oh, and by the way..." Her fingers wind around the door. "This isn't your present, just a stocking filler."
She winks, and he swears he's already seeing stars, his mouth beaming around a grin as he watches her saunter down the hall, knowing he has the best present no amount of money can buy.
His wife is the perfect Christmas girl.