Note: 2/27/19 is a national holiday. Who's calling congress? (Technically it's 2/28 now, but they're still up cuddling (and the other thing), so it still counts.)
Cheers to a year of canon ❤️
And as always, big thank you to my biggest cheerleader and support system, Heather. Also thank you to Jaime, Alyssa and Marie, who also read this before it went into the world.
Harvey can't stop touching her.
He's still buried deep inside her, holding on to the last remnants of their orgasm. She's tight and hot and wet, so wet, their shared ecstasy dripping between them. But he can't bring himself to leave the snug apex of her thighs. Not yet.
Her skin is fire, golden heat and silky smooth; every part of her he touches leaves him gloriously burned. He wants to live in this feeling forever.
Her fingers curl on the nape of his neck. "Say it again," she breathes, sultry and soft at the same time.
He grinds his hips against hers, needing to be closer. (He doesn't think he'll ever be close enough.) She responds in kind, rubbing just so, the friction delicious, and if this were twelve years ago he'd be half-hard by now.
But it's not, it's right now, and right now there is bliss and a post-coital glow that envelopes them, and it feels exactly as it should.
He regards her with heavy eyes and a lightened soul.
"I looked around...and you weren't there."
Somehow, it says everything.
"I'm here now," comes the quiet response.
Here. Together. Every inch of skin in contact with hers, but it's more than that and they both know it. A connection they've perfected through the years — intense and profound, staying the course through the many shockwaves that rattled them — but it's this last tiny milestone that completes the circuit and makes them whole.
Donna looks up at him curiously as she plays with his hair. "What?"
She's so beautiful.
"I just wish I had come to my senses sooner."
And he still can't stop touching her. Not when he finally can. She's his fix, and he needs all of her now, then, always. He tucks her hair behind the shell of her ear (she tastes sweet back there, like honey and cinnamon and something uniquely Donna) and runs his index finger down her cheekbone (she shivers when he kisses her there, right below her lashes). He revels in the fullness of her breasts pressed against him (her soft sighs as he cups them, goosebumps rising while his tongue traces the swell). Her hands continue their journey down his back, the tickle of her fingertips leaving him breathless (they circle the head of his cock before guiding him inside her, linger where they're joined as he moves in and out and in again).
"It's okay," Donna whispers with shining eyes, bringing him back to the present. "I was worth the wait."
He gets lost in her smile, and he thinks of a dream he had, a long time ago, where she said the same thing.
But nothing can beat reality; the comforting weight of her arms winding around his shoulders, bare foot stroking his calf before she wraps her legs around him, pulling him closer still.
"Donna," he says seriously then, framing her face in his hands. The words aren't in his mouth, but they're in his head, in his heart. They're all-consuming and powerful. And the last time he said them, he'd screwed up, and even though this isn't like the last time, he wants to get it right.
Luckily, she's Donna, and she knows him better than he knows himself.
"I know," she affirms, caressing his cheek.
Their slow breaths mingle, very essence intertwining, and there is no doubt in Harvey's mind that this is where they belong.
"We have to get some sleep," she continues, tracing his brow.
He adjusts and moves off of her, though only enough so he won't crush her with his full weight — he still covers half her body with his own. His nose bumps against her neck, and he breathes in the heady scent of sweat and sex. "Everything's changed," he murmurs, subconsciously searching until his hand finds hers. He traces patterns on her palm until their fingertips dance together.
"I know."
She is magnetic, tethering him to this new normal while her touches lull him to sleep.