Prompt #22 by fatedontknowyou: "Donna has plans to go see the Nutcracker with (insert whatever date/relationship of choice), but is stood up last minute. Harvey feels sorry for her and offers to come with. He's not at all interested in the show, only her, and cracks jokes in her ear during the whole show. She's irritated af, angst follows. Spoiler: they end up in bed together, extra points for nut cracking jokes, Donna in a stunning dress and M-rating"
(disc. Inspired by keywords from prompt 22 and written into a five times fic, M-rated for part five)
⁎⁑ one ⁑⁎
Wiggling the pen between his fingers, he skims over the last paragraph of the brief in front of him for the umpteenth time that night - still searching for a way to turn this case around.
Just when his mind drifts off to Donna and how he could use her help by now, he hears a deep sigh, the familiar pattern of her heels hitting the floor and then a bump. A glittery purse coming into sight as it drops on his desk.
The pen drops from his hand and his head snaps up at the sudden intrusion. The look of surprise immediately making place for intrigue when he takes her in.
Her coat is hanging open from her shoulders, revealing a long green slip dress hugging her every curve.
Eyes trailing over her form, he takes her in. Closing his mouth and swallowing thickly as he meets her gaze at last - she looks more than annoyed.
"I thought you had a date?"
She huffs, flicks her wrist in the air. "Thought so too."
Her answer takes him by surprise and he stares at her wide eyed. He doesn't think she's ever been stood up before and he thinks any guy doing so is crazy, and yet the one thing he manages to vocalise is "the guy has some balls." A chuckle escapes him then as the missed opportunity for a pun hits him, he adds it anyway, "nuts I mean."
Donna draws her brows together and tilts her head. Not amused in the slightest.
"Or clearly none," he rephrases his answers, pushing his chair back and getting up, "when you're done with him."
"Sounds about right," she adds, moving through his small office to the cart under the painting. Deftly lifting a tumbler from the tray.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing," she answers, lifting the glass further but his hand finds her wrist. His gaze meeting hers as she turns to look up at him in surprise, her heart skipping a beat as he removes the glass and places it back - but not yet letting go of her.
"Let's go."
"What -"
"I'll go with you," he says, but it's the look in his eyes that finally convinces her he means it. She smiles softly, nodding once and then he lets go of her hand, moving along to get his coat.
They arrive at the theatre just in time, rushing out of the cab, into the lobby and up the stairs to the balcony.
One of the ushers tries to stop them, Harvey throws him a fifty dollar bill to take their coats on the spot as he motions for Donna to go ahead.
She links her arm with his, dragging him across onto the balcony - whispering apologies left and right as she guides them to their seats. Dropping down with a chuckle just before the curtains open.
He tries to catch his breath, ignoring the annoyed looks of the people sitting around them. Normally he wouldn't care and have commented about them, whispering in her ear - no doubt making her laugh.
Harvey knows nothing about the ballet, the performance in front of him is nothing but confusing and when he catches men dressed as mice dancing around he's certain this isn't for him, but one look at her and every remark or joke he's thought of so far fails to leave his tongue.
It's dark, he's barely gotten the chance to take her in fully, but he can see the look of awe on her face as she watches the stage during a part he later learns is "the dance of the sugar plum fairy".
It's the only thing he takes away from the night. That and how glad he's able to be the one to make her happy.
When he drops her off later that evening, she squeezes his hand and whispers a thank you.
He smiles and tells her not to mention it.
Neither of them speak about it again, but that year he finds a wrapped nutcracker on his desk for Christmas.
⁎⁑ two ⁑⁎
Donna feels his hand ghosting the small of her back, a chill running up over her spine as they manoeuvre through the crowd. She lets her gaze roam over the faces, all partners of the firm - glass of champagne in hand, partner on their arm.
She swallows, glances to her right and blindly accepts the flute he holds in front of her. She clings it to his, taking a small sip as they stall somewhere near the back of the room.
She knows it's a partner's event, organised by Alicia Hardman, to raise money for the breast cancer association. She also knows that being the newest addition he had no chance of getting out of it, she just isn't entirely sure why Harvey asked her to come.
"So," she starts, drawing in a breath to catch his attention. "Couldn't find a date for tonight huh."
He gives her a look and rolls his eyes then. "Didn't bother," he counters, bringing the flute to his lips and taking a big sip of the sparkling wine.
She frowns at that, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
"Look," Harvey mutters after a quick glance at the people around them before returning his attention to her, "I can't make someone sit through two hours of Russian hell, and still expect to get laid."
"You make me sit through it." The words leave her lips before she can think them over and his eyes flicker up to meet hers.
"One, you like it," he says slowly and a pause follows. He draws in a breath, licking his lower lips in the process before he steps even closer as he leans in. "And second, I thought that was off the table."
Her breath falters just a little and she's glad they're in a badly lit part of the room cause she's almost certain her cheeks flush just a little. She composes herself in a beat, tilting her chin up before she speaks. "You got that right."
He raises a brow, gives her a look. "Which one?"
"Both," she fires back.
Harvey snickers in return, his lips settling in his signature smirk mirroring her own grin. Their words say one thing, the looks they share another.
The moment is broken by flickering lights announcing the show is about to begin. He snaps out of it first, downing the remainder of his champagne and mumbling a "showtime" the second he finishes it.
She rolls her eyes, turns to stand in front of him. Her hand ghosting over his shoulder, picking at some lint until she moves it to the lapel of his suit jacket. Tucking it just so, she gives it two small taps and smiles at him encouragingly. "You've got this," she whispers.
"We've got this."
She bobs her head to the side. A simple unspoken gesture to inquire into the reasoning behind his answer.
"I wouldn't have made junior-partner without you."
Donna let's his words sink in, feeling her heart warm at the sincerity of it all and she knows she's helped him along the way but she also needs him to know she believes in him no matter what. Just like his father did. "You would have."
He smiles, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes and suddenly she realises the exact reason she's here. Not because he couldn't have found a date, not because she likes it, but because it's been a rough couple of months. With his father passing, the run in with his mother at the funeral - he simply needs her there to keep him company.
She knows he never really celebrated the holidays, not much, but he did always call his father. Or went to one of his performances if they were nearby.
"Maybe not this fast," she jokes after, the fastest way to lighten the mood.
He rolls his eyes and sighs, but his grin tells her he more than agrees. "Okay," he says then, bobbing his head to the side. "That's enough stroking of your ego. Let's go."
She smiles and shakes her head but walks ahead anyway, swaying her hips just so as he halts a step and lets her ascend the stairs first.
She pauses at the top, looking down over her shoulder at him and he simply smiles. His hand finds the small of her back as he asks her where their seats are.
"Next to Louis."
"No," his face falls.
She bites her tongue, pulls the two tickets out of the front pocket of his jacket and continues their path into the theatre.
He takes in the seating around them, catches Louis sitting on the second row of his right. His chest is already tightening at the thought of having to sit next to the man for the next two hours, when he feels her fingers tug on his hand.
Harvey's head snaps to the left and she guides him to the two remaining seats on the third row on the left.
"I thought -"
"You're co-counsel on one of Soloff' cases after the holidays," she answers, giving away that she traded their tickets with those of another partner. "It was that or a pro Bono Paul Porter was working on."
He presses his lips together in a thin line and simply nods. Eternally grateful that the woman sitting next to him gets him more than anyone else - something she proves once more that night by being the one to crack jokes in his ear.
About the ballet, the people around them, and any other piece of gossip she's gotten a hold of over the last week - she whispers in his ear for the better part of two hours.
Only during the dance of the sugar plum fairy her attention wavers to the stage and when Harvey turns to her, he finds the same mesmerised look on her face as years before, and he realises then, after everything she did that night to make him feel better it's this exact moment that does it.
Seeing her happy.
⁎⁑ three ⁑⁎
When she told him he's very generous on secretary's day, she meant it. Birthdays and Christmas too. Proof of it laying right in front of her - tickets to the Nutcracker.
Ticket. Singular, she corrects her thoughts because the other one is in his possession.
Not because he'd kept it for himself, no. Since she used his cards to buy herself this year's gift, she had been the one to give him the spare. As a tradition of some sort, third time's a charm after all.
Except there's absolutely nothing shiny about their current situation.
A lot has happened in the last couple of months. Too much even. Too much to sweep under the rug and pretend it never happened.
They did that once, but back then he hadn't said those words.
You know I love you, Donna.
She can still hear them, standing in the exact same spot, but his treatment of her lately couldn't be more opposite.
Conversations between them have been few and far between and when they did happen it was more her speaking to him than him replying to her.
She swallows thickly and closes her eyes, the thought alone makes her sick to her stomach - and she almost, almost, regrets leaving him to go work for Louis. But she couldn't stay, not anymore.
She just didn't expect to lose her best friend.
Or maybe deep down she had and that's why they stayed clear of this subject for the better part of a decade.
A decade, more even. That's how long she's known him. Loved him. Shared memories with him. She turns around then, taking two steps back to the table, eyeing the piece of paper that proves it.
They've been to it twice now, and when she handed him this ticket he barely even grumbled and she'd joked about him secretly loving it.
He told her not to push it, but deep down she knows that while he might not love the ballet; he does love spending time with her.
She reaches for her phone then, opening the find my friends app. A tactic she's used over the years to keep taps on his whereabouts and a habit hard broken.
David H. Koch Theatre
"Asshole," she mutters to no-one but herself, eyeing the time on her phone she has to roll her eyes at him being relatively early too.
She dashes off to her bedroom then, slipping into the dress that had been hanging on her wardrobe door for weeks now. She quickly adds some mascara and lipstick, slips on her five inch fuck-me heels and marches out of the door.
She makes it just in time, catching her breath as she rushes through the door. Handing her coat to one of the men at the wardrobe, she accepts a glass of champagne and makes her way up the stairs, all the while trying not to look for him.
Trying, cause she spots him the second she enters the building.
He's pacing back and forth in the foyer, glass in hand and he isn't even sure why he's here. It's not like he likes ballet, it's not like they're on good terms, anything but really, because he's still hurt - more than he likes to admit.
And yet, the stupid ticket (her) had been on his mind all day.
His body goes rigid even before he sees her, as if her mere presence makes the atmosphere in the entire building change and his atoms can do nothing but respond to her proximity.
He swallows thickly, turning around slowly and then, then, he sees her.
A vision in white. Her hair a bright contrast against her pale skin and even if the room had been more crowded, he'd have spotted her in a heartbeat.
His own skipping a beat as he notices her slowly turning her head in his direction and he can't help it, but his lips automatically curl up in a small smile he's only ever reserved for her.
It disappears as quickly as it came as she expertly averts her gaze, making him unsure if she even saw him in the first place but he knows better.
The way she walks away, the extra sway in her step only proves it.
Slowly, he takes a deep breath - willing his heart rate down but when that doesn't work he finishes the flute of champagne in one go. The glass nearly shatters when he places it down.
He wants to chase after her and leave at the same time, he gets to do neither when an usher moves towards him and asks him to go inside and take his seat.
Shaking his head, Harvey snaps out of his thoughts and only then he notices he's the only person left in the foyer.
Harvey nods then, a wordless apology to the usher as he moves through the door. Taking a quick glance at the ticket, he moves through the rows and to their empty seats.
He sits down, shuffling around in it uncomfortably and he fidgets with the booklet he got handed at the door - his heart is pounding heavily and he counts the seconds he's sitting here alone.
And then it happens once more, his entire being freezing up when she enters the room a minute later - excusing herself as she makes way to her seat.
The one next to him.
Or so he thought, but he notices Donna moving down another row - a smile plastered on her face. It's to the man getting up and letting her pass but it stings all the same.
When he notices his hand briefly moving over the redhead's arm his own balls into a fist. One he quickly presses flat against his trembling knee, willing it to stop just before she sits down two seats to the right before him.
She peers over her shoulder then, exactly at him but it's only for a second before she turns around again.
It leaves him so stunned he doesn't even register how the seat next to her is empty too. How technically he could be in the wrong seat too.
He half expects her to turn around once more and greet him but she doesn't and by the time he musters up enough courage (or anger, he isn't entirely sure) to lean forward and whisper her name the music starts and the curtains open.
It's beyond awkward, maybe even more so than it has been at the office and he hates it, but he knows better than to try to get her attention. For one, she's just a little bit too far away, but more importantly Donna is already pissed at him and talking during any kind of performance is something she loathes - thus a sure way to add fuel to the fire.
He can't help but look though - at her. First it's just from the corner of his eye, pretending to be focused at whatever the hell is going on on stage. Something he still hasn't figured out.
Halfway through the first act he shifts on his chair, leaning a little bit more to the left and thus away from her - but giving him a better view of the redhead in front of him. Every couple of minutes he tilts his head just so, catching a glimpse of her.
That's exactly how the evening continues, stolen glances in the dark. He's full on watching her by the time the dance of the sugar plum fairy comes on; and as much as he wants to be mad at her - she's the one that left after all - he can't help but be mesmerised by her.
Maybe even more so than the first time he watched her watch this particular part.
And something deep down tugs on his heartstrings, much like it did that one night that turned everything up and down. Broke them in a way he didn't know was possible and the consequences have been too severe to even entertain a thought of how to do things differently in the future.
He doesn't get to talk to her that night, but he dreams of her regardless.
A week later he tries to forget about what his heart tells him by sleeping with Louis' sister and their strangled relationship comes to an impasse with her accusing him of treating her like a stranger.
⁎⁑ four ⁑⁎
Donna answers her phone on the first ring, a grin spreading across her face as she hears him mumble her name.
"Evening, Mouse King."
He shakes his head at her answer, the amusement palpable in her voice even from so little words.
Harvey looks down at the eight year old Haley fallen asleep next to him on the couch. "I can't believe you did that," he answers.
She chuckles because they both know he can. It's his own fault really, for not buying something himself. But it is the first Christmas he's celebrating with his family since reconciling with his mother two months back. Pulling her leg up under her she shuffles over the couch. "Marcus said she likes ballet and Barbies, so I thought let's go a little nuts this holiday season."
"You know what's worse than looking at men in tights? Looking at animated men in tights," he fires back. "How did you even manage to find this on dvd?"
"I know a guy."
"Got it, you stole it from Louis."
She laughs loudly but playfully scolds him anyway by simply saying his name. She hears him sigh and a moment of comfortable silence follows. She simply listens to his breathing as he does to hers.
"How was it?" She asks at last.
Harvey turns to look at his niece again, now curled up against his side. He drops his right hand to her back, softly pulling the blanket over her shoulder.
"It was good," he answers. Smiling to himself as he thinks back to the activities of the day, watching the kids unwrap their presents. The lunch they had with his mom, and even now that Marcus had roped him into babysitting. "Th-"
"You don't have to thank me, Harvey," she interrupts him. "It's all you. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Donna," he whispers, peering down at his niece again. Just like he did during the only part of the movie that triggered a memory to the piece he's watched three times by now - the dance of the sugar plum fairy.
Except this time, instead of seeing Donna's mesmerized face, he sees it on the little girl beside him – his mind combining both images into one he's never dared to dream about but might actually be a possibility in the future now that's been working on himself.
⁎⁑ five ⁑⁎
He absentmindedly moves his thumb, immediately feeling her fingers curl around it and he looks down at the redhead next to him on the couch. She's wearing one of his old Harvard sweaters, her head resting against his leg, his own feet propped up on the coffee table as she traces his knuckles.
He yawns once, eyes the television – the news back to where it was months before, so he turns it off. Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, he glances at his wife once more. "We would have been in New York by now."
Donna's movements stall and he feels her nod.
They've been in Seattle for little over a year now and being stuck at home wasn't exactly on his plan for their first year as a married couple – they had talked about ample visits back to the east coast to see their families and friends. They've barely been able to hang out with Mike and Rachel in person. "Do you miss it?"
She takes a deep breath and lets his words sink in. "I miss seeing everyone," she answers first, all the zoom calls just aren't the same. "But New York –" she pauses once more. "Home is where you are."
He smiles softly and squeezes her hand.
"I might miss the fact we would have gone to the theatre tonight.."
He laughs then, loudly and he shakes his head. "I do not miss that."
She threads his fingers with hers, holding their linked hands pressed against her chest. "What is it with you and the ballet, mister?"
Donna hears him take a deep breath, and she tilts her head back a little to stare up him. "Come on, spill it."
"Mom," he then says, "she made me take a lesson."
Donna's eyes widen and she jumps up into a sitting position, a genuine laugh escaping her. "No way, no .." She breathes, shaking her head as the visual in her mind comes together.
He draws in a breath and furrows his brow, head simply tilting to the side.
She realises then he's deadly serious and her grin only grows. "You took ballet lessons," she summarises, "how come I didn't know about this."
"It was one lesson, for baseball purposes," he clarifies, but her confused expression only grows. And he signals her expression with a bob of his head. "And this is exactly why you never knew.."
"I can't wait to tell Louis and Rachel this."
"Don't."
She challenges him with a mere look.
"Donna.." he sighs pleadingly.
She presses her lips together and pretends to think it over. "Show me and I won't tell them."
"What.."
She taps his thigh, urging him to get up. "You heard me, show me or I'm telling Rachel.."
He shoots her a look, not yet fully believing her bargaining methods. He catches her leaning to the side then, reaching for her phone and he moves up from the couch. Stealing her phone from her hand. "This will stay between us, and only us.."
"Does Marcus know.."
"I was six, so no," he answers and upon seeing her eyes widen he realises he's made a mistake by disclosing this information – handing her even more leverage.
"Wear tights and he'll never know."
"What.."
"I want to see you wear tights when you show me," she repeats, getting giddy at the idea alone.
"You think I own tights."
She bites her lip, looks down at the yoga pants she has on and her hands already move to take them off. He catches her intentions in a beat. "I'm not wearing your yoga pants either."
She sulks for a second when a memory hits. "Remember that one winter a few years back when the heating at the firm was a mess and you had me buy you thermal underwear."
He thinks for a moment, wants to object but she's faster with her "second drawer on the right.." and he knows he has lost now. She motions for him to move, making a phone signal with her hand as a reminder of the deal she got him to agree to.
He sighs then, loudly, no doubt to show he isn't one-hundred percent in agreement with this but he also knows that once his wife has an idea in mind, it's very hard to get her to let it go. So he moves to their bedroom.
Harvey returns two minutes later, dragging his feet in slow steps back to the couch. He has his hands crossed in front of his groin - keeping them there as he stands still in front of her.
She eyes him, biting her lip and willing herself not to laugh cause she knows this is over the second she does. She looks at his hands then, peering back up at his face a second later, an eyebrow raised and he simply groans.
"Why am I doing this again."
"Because we're stuck inside, your wife's bored and you're nuts about me."
Even in this particular situation, Harvey can't help but smile softly, feeling his chest warm at her referring to herself as his wife. "The latter..," he grumbles, even though an answer wasn't necessary.
She smiles, mouthing an "I love you too," in return and then signals for him to move his hands once more with a simple look.
He takes a deep breath, eyes closing for a second and he almost moves when he notices her leaning towards her phone on the table again. "Donna.."
She looks at him, simply presses her screen and then lifts her hands, giving him an innocent smile when the familiar tune of the "dance of the sugar plum fairy" starts playing over the home cinema set.
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, pretending one more time to be annoyed by this but it's the look of pure excitement on her face that makes him stand a little taller, moving his hands away.
Donna's mouth drops instantly as she takes him in. She's seen her husband in suit pants, jeans, sweaters, his regular boxers and – her favourite – naked, but she's never seen this and she's pretty certain something must have happened to the thermal underwear cause it's tight. Like outlines absolutely everything tight, and she swallows thickly as her focus remains on his dick.
He looks down at her, catches the way she licks her lip and hasn't looked him in the eye since he stepped out. He moves his feet just so, pressing his heels together, making his hips jut forward just a little and her eyes darken.
It's the fourth time he gets to watch her as this particular song plays in the background and every single time she had the exact same look of mesmerisation on her face, but this time, this time it's directed at him and it instantly becomes his favourite.
"So anything particular you want to see?"
"Yeah," she breathes, her gaze not moving an inch, "drop those."
The answer doesn't surprise him one bit, but his smug grin appears all the same because he knows his wife well enough to realise his plan is working. He takes another step closer, letting his hands rest on his hips as her right hand moves over his thigh.
He draws in a breath, bites down on his bottom lip as her fingers draw a pattern over his thigh. His self-control is being tested, but the only way to get out of this deal is to make her the one to break it. "So no rendition of the nutcracker then?"
"A different one," she breathes, bringing her left index finger to trace the elastic band at the top of the garment. Her next words come before he gets to ask for a clarification. "Just want your nuts in my mouth."
He wants to laugh, the pun bad enough to kill the mood and with anyone else it would have but it's the love of his life sitting with her face right in front of his crotch, her fingers stroking his beginning erection over the cotton and all he can do is muster a "Fuck Donna."
She looks up then, her gaze meeting his and a shiver runs down his spine when her face tells him how much she really wants this. He nods slowly, giving in and it doesn't matter anymore as to who gave up on their deal cause the next thing he knows her hand is on his member, cupping him through the fabric before her fingers slip lower, teasing his balls as a promise for what's to come later – he groans at the sensation.
With every tantalising stroke, the already tight pants become more strained and it doesn't take more than the use of her name as a simple plead for her to move on. Bringing both of her hands to the elastic band at the top, Donna curls her fingers inside and then drags the fabric down his hips. His erection springing loose, jutting against his stomach the second the fabric moves over the tip.
She pauses for a moment, just to watch him and think about all the things she's yet to do. She continues pulling down the fabric, working on one leg at the time, helping him step out it. Tossing the thermal pants aside, she leans back to sit on her legs, admiring her half naked husband in front of her.
"I want to see all of you," she says, telling him to lose his shirt with a flick of her wrist. He does as she commands and he only has to bob his head in her direction for her to do the same.
He watches her lift his old sweater over her head, revealing her bare chest under it and he's known for a year now that she likes to go bra-less when wearing his comfy clothes, it still always startles him seeing this long time fantasy become reality.
Her chest is flush and her nipples look rock-hard and as much as he loves her stealing his clothes, being unable to see the effect he has on her through them is truly a shame.
He asks her to get up too, but she reclines; staying seated on her knees right in front of him and she only adds to his agony of being out of his reach by bringing her hands up to cup her swollen breasts, tweaking a nipple between her fingers tips and she moans softly at her own touch.
Harvey groans at the sight in front of him and it's enough to make his wife move forward on her knees, bringing her fingers to his dick again. Curling them around the base, she strokes him a few times, letting her fingernail trace the pulsing vein on the side before she runs her thumb over the head, spreading some of the pre-cum over him.
When she wets her lips and opens them, he thinks she will finally let him sink into her hot mouth, but she moves her head to the side. Pressing open mouth kisses up his length until she reaches his left testicle. Her tongue stroking the delicate flesh and he sighs - now even more excited that she clearly wasn't joking when she told him what she wanted.
She keeps stroking his erection as she pecks his ball, and her free hand travels up from the back of his knee up to his butt. Giving it a teasing squeeze, she actually winks when he looks down.
She takes his right ball into her hand then too, feeling the weight of them in her palm and she moves the base of her thumb back and forth against them.
"God, woman.."
"Donna's enough," she whispers against his skin. Pressing kisses along his length as she moves to the other side, taking one of his balls in her mouth at last.
He moans loudly and when she has the audacity to hum around him, he feels his dick twitch in her grasp. Stroking the undersides, she moves her thumb over the head, spreading some of the pre-cum over the tip.
He brings his hand to the back of her head, fingers threading to her hair as he tilts her head just so he can look into her eyes - and the sight is one to behold. Her mouth wrapped around one of his balls, his cock rock hard and her eyes full of love and he moans her name once more.
She recognises the slight tremble in his voice as he does so and knows he's close. Releasing him with a soft plop of her lips, she draws her fingers over his member and directs her mouth to it at last. Her tongue darts out to tease the tip, dragging it over his slit and tasting him before she closes her lips over the sensitive head.
She circles her tongue around him, teasing him as she keeps her eyes locked with his. Replacing that with some soft kisses before she takes him in fully.
His eyes close at the sensation and his head drops back, a heavy moan escaping him as he feels the pressure build up in the pit of his stomach.
She bobs her head, once, twice, taking his erection further on every single move. Keeping a slow, almost torturous pace as she works him.
He takes a deep breath and looks down again, his thumb moving over her cheek in a gentle caress.
She nods then, softly, agreeing to his non-verbal request and she moves both of her hands to his hips, steadying herself as his fingers curl further into her hair and he moves his hips forward. Thrusting into her mouth, he keeps his gaze locked with hers as his erection slides in and out of her lips. Fucking her mouth until his rhythm becomes erratic and he feels he's about to come.
Slowing down, he moves back until solely the tip of his cock is resting on her lips. He untangles his hand from her hair, placing a loose strand behind her ear. He caresses her cheek once more, silently handing over control and letting her decide how to finish it.
She takes him back in her hand, letting him slide out of her mouth fully and presses another kiss to the tip. Then adjusts her position a little, lifting up onto her knees and slowly sucking him back into her mouth.
"Fuck," he groans, eyes closing again at the pressure building up. But they've done this enough to know exactly what it looks like, so even with his eyes closed all he sees are her plump pink lips around his cock, the slight blush on her cheeks and the crinkle near the corner of her eyes cause he just knows she's smiling at the knowledge she can bring him so much pleasure.
She knows he's close, his breathing and groans giving it more than away and the sweat starting to form at the back of his legs as she draws her fingertips up from his calves to his butt tell her it's a matter of seconds.
"Come for me, Harvey," she says, briefly letting him slide out of her mouth before taking him in fully, her left hand slipping between his legs to stroke his balls and that's when she feels his butt clench, his hips jut forward and his dick twitches in her mouth as he spills inside of her with a deep groan mixed in with her name rolling off of his tongue.
She wraps her hand around the base, pumping once as her mouth makes sure he's completely spent and only then does she let him go.
He drops back on the couch, panting heavily as his chest rises with each breath. It takes him a couple of seconds to open his eyes, and when he does he catches her swallowing his sweet load- and licking her lips to get every last drop.
He gives her a lazy smile and she winks, pressing her hands on his knees to push herself up. She moves to sit on his lap, a leg on either side of his and his hands automatically find her waist, moving up to cup her breasts as he draws her closer.
She knows he needs a moment but she rolls her hips against his all the same when his thumbs flick her taut nipples, but instead of letting him return the favour she simply wraps her arms around his neck and brings her lips to his.
The kiss is short, far too short for his liking and even though he sighs when she pulls back, all they do is smile at one another.
"Best rendition of the nutcracker to date."
'Yeah?' she whispers and he nods.
"Yeah, this should have been our Christmas tradition all along..'
She chuckles, gets what he means but she can't help but tease her husband. "You do realise we only went every couple of years."
The words come with another roll of her hips, and he gets the hint but he doesn't have to tell her he'd happily watch the nutcracker with her whenever she pleases if this is the pay off. They both know it anyway, so he simply kisses her.