Chapter 5
AN: This one is rated M so putting my AN up here. Everyone feel free to blame Southsidesister (darvey_love) for encouraging me to write smut, as well as thanking her for being an amazing beta! Aanya, maybe don't show the last part to anyone sitting next to you on the flight haha. Thank you to everyone having as much fun with this story as I am. And I'm loving so many Darvey posts appearing on my Twitter TL lately! xxxx #nostalgia
With one arm nestled protectively in a sling, Harvey finished setting up the rickety pull-out couch in the apartment he and Donna would call home for the next few nights.
After his dislocated shoulder had been reset, the pair of them were discharged from the hospital and sent straight to a briefing, where they'd listened to all the problematic arrests and bureaucratic hurdles they would need to overcome before returning to their lives.
In his opiate haze, he was more compliant than normal, the painkillers helping him yield to all of Cahill's terms.
Donna hadn't been as easily convinced.
In a twist of role reversal, she'd put up a fight over multiple grievances, like his shoulder not getting proper treatment and the unsafe area of town they'd be relegated to. But the hill she'd chosen to die on was refusing to let their friends and family worry about her welfare.
Personally, he'd been satisfied when Cahill assured them he'd call Mike, trusting the prosecutor. If the man hadn't placed a tail on him almost immediately after leaving the SEC, his biggest concern wouldn't have been whether Louis burned down the firm in his absence. So, he could live with being stuck in a cramped space with no internet, a useless tablet, and a few paperbacks for entertainment.
But Donna was far more empathetic towards their friends than he was. On the drive over, her restlessness had made it clear to him she was worried. It had been clear to him on the drive over that she was worried. She'd fidgeted relentlessly with her rings, responded with murmurs when he'd tried to offer reassurance, and her mood had soured further upon seeing their slum accommodation. His failed attempt to make light of the twin hob passing as a kitchen had caused her to bite his head off, then she'd proceeded to lock herself in the flat's only bathroom.
She was currently in there showering, and he grabbed his book, making himself semi-comfortable on the creaky mattress a few feet away from the closed door. He doubted he'd be able to focus on reading, but he didn't want to violate what little privacy they had by calling out through the thin wall to check on her.
With one hand, he awkwardly pinched open the spine of his novel, leaning his head back with a sigh. Her agitated behavior was dredging up his own feelings of unease. She'd claimed the doctor had ruled out any signs of a concussion, but the bruise that had bloomed down the side of her face, coupled with her short temper, painted a contrasting opinion.
Fortunately, it only took him the struggle of turning two pages before the water stopped, and he found himself waiting impatiently to see if she emerged feeling any better.
When the door finally opened, she stepped out wearing green flannel pajamas, her hair tossed in a damp bun, giving him a clearer view of the vivid discoloration running along her jaw. She didn't appear any more relaxed as she clutched her toiletries bag with a fierce grip.
"The shower's all yours."
The tension from earlier was palpable, and his chest twinged with disappointment as she headed into the bedroom. For whatever reason, she hadn't been happy when he'd offered her the marginally bigger room, either. He hadn't been able to put a foot right since they had arrived.
He expected the door to close, surprised when the peeling yellow paint stayed ajar and in the line of his sight. Wondering if the opening was an invitation, he set down his book, deciding he didn't really care. Donna rarely ever sulked, and he swung his legs over the side of the cot, determined to get to the bottom of what was going through her mind.
Padding across the worn brown carpet, his fingers curled in a loose fist as he reached the door, knocking as he peered inside the rundown lodgings. There was a broken set of drawers, a scuffed bedside table with a dusty lamp, and he found Donna leaning all her weight against a plastic desk in the corner. Her arms were stiff as her hands gripped the cheap laminate surface, his brow furrowing in response to her rigid posture. "Hey... Are you okay?"
With her back still turned, she shook her head.
Hesitant to initiate a repeat of earlier, he stayed where he was and kept his mouth shut so his foot wouldn't fly into it. Except, she didn't follow up her movement with any further clarification.
And, well, shit.
Guessing what he'd done wrong would undoubtedly lead to another argument, he prompted her with his least favorite conversation starter. "Is it alright if we talk?"
"About what? How you were right?" She shot a glare at the windowless wall, taking her frustration out on the filthy beige decor. "How because of me you're stuck with two-ply sheets and cockroaches in the bathtub. If it's all the same with you, I'd rather not have that discussion right now."
He sincerely hoped she was exaggerating the roach infestation, but on the off chance she wasn't, he took her accusing tone offensively. "You think I care about any of that stuff?"
She shrugged, and the reaction stung as his gaze darted around the poor excuse for a room. Obviously, he would prefer to be locked down in a five-star accommodation, but they were here because the apartment was secure and nowhere anyone would think to look for them. After the danger she'd been in today, sheets were the last goddamn thing on his mind. "Donna, I'd sleep in a box on the side of the road if that kept you safe. You know that."
Or at least, he thought she did. He hated the way her ragged breathing derailed his confidence. And if what happened to them caused her to lose faith in him, he wasn't sure he could handle the conversation, but he couldn't stand not knowing. "The only thing bothering me is why you're so mad at me."
Donna heard his presence creep up behind her, and she held her palm out, warning him to stop. "I'm not mad at you, Harvey. I just—"
Her arm shook with anxiety, and god, he was right. She was pissed off — the last expression she wanted to project. She knew he would run blindly into a burning blaze to protect her. He'd shown the exact disregard for his own wellbeing by tearing the same ligament that ended his baseball career to spare her a few more seconds from Vance's rage. Yet, instead of acknowledging he was set to face months of rehab, he'd been walking around with the patience of a saint, cracking jokes like they were vacationing in a cozy B&B.
This wasn't how they operated. They didn't hover after a precarious situation. Harvey never stuck around for the fallout, and she needed a goddamn second. "We don't do this." Her unguarded words lashed to the surface. "So, stop. Stop asking if I'm okay, stop making jokes and offering me the bigger room. Stop trying to comfort me and making me feel like…"
"Like what?" He stepped forward, fueled by the relief he hadn't let her down, at least not today. He'd made plenty of mistakes in the past, which justified her outburst. Times he'd fled when he should have fought for them, choking when he should have spoken up. "Donna, look at me."
She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, trapped between her irritation and guilt. No matter how desperately she craved space, there wasn't anywhere to hide. The apartment couldn't accommodate her aching frustration, and Harvey didn't deserve to have the magnified force thrown in his face. He almost certainly didn't want to be here, either. He just had the advantage of being superiorly equipped to ignore his inner dialogue. "Nothing. Making me feel nothing," she whispered, clearing her throat.
Letting go of the desk, she slipped her arms around her waist, slowly turning to meet his raised eyebrow. Except she saw no reason to answer his puzzled look. He needed a truce, not an explanation. So she called for one with a quiet apology. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have snapped at you."
"It's okay." He spoke just as softly, relieved by the cease-fire. Though he found it difficult to plug his ruptured disappointment. She'd almost given him an opening to talk about how he was feeling, but he wasn't stupid enough to steer from calm water into treacherous seas.
Perching on the side of the mattress opposite her, he tucked his hand over his knee, nodding around the room. "Would it help if I gave you the shitty couch?"
She scoffed a humorless laugh. He should take the bed because of his shoulder, and she'd be happier if he did, but he'd sleep on the floor before he gave in. Anyone else, and the matter of chivalry wouldn't be an issue. If Louis had been here in her place, Harvey probably would have made the man sleep in the tub, and she shook her head, sighing.
"What?" he asked.
His gaze was once again focused and curious, and she ducked her chin down, deterring his interest with a light smirk. "Just thinking about how this would be Louis' dream date with you."
The suggestion of being stuck in a tin can with Louis made him shudder. "Now whose jokes aren't funny." He smiled a little, which prompted her lips to mirror his, causing her to wince. She said not to keep asking how she was, so he didn't. Instead, he pushed up from the bed, silently seeking an answer as he closed in, tucking his fingers under her chin and turning her jaw to inspect the bruising.
Her instinct was to pull away, but she was too exhausted to fight his compulsion to smother her. Especially since she hadn't stopped to consider his bleeding heart was probably an outlet for his own guilt. "It's not as bad as it looks."
"Yeah?" He studied the purple hues and inflamed edges around her cheek bones. "Why don't I believe that?" If he hadn't passed out in the hanger, he wouldn't have let Vance leave unscathed, but he was careful not to direct his simmering rage toward Donna. "Any dizziness? Headaches?"
She shook her head. The skin was tender, but the bruise holding his attention was the result of her pale complexion, not anything more sinister. Harvey's stubborn focus should be aimed at how badly he was going to hurt if he over extended his injury too soon. "You have a torn rotator cuff. Worry about that."
"At least my face doesn't look like Grimace." He gently pinched her chin down, wincing at her glare.
"Say that again. I dare you."
He dropped his hand to her shoulder, taking in her full silhouette. It was the first time in a long while he could see all the freckles dusting her nose. He didn't think for a single second she resembled anything close to whatever the hell Grimace was supposed to be. She was perfect. From the tiny crease in her brow, right down to the wispy hair drying in unruly ringlets around her flushing face. She was silently calling him out for staring, but he didn't care, smiling as he took the opportunity to toy with one of the silky strands.
She waited for him to grow bored, smirk, do any number of things — except slide his hand further through the back of her hair as he leaned down, bumping his nose against hers.
He curled his fingers against the nape of neck, letting the moment wash over him. All he'd wanted since they'd almost kissed was to hold her like this again. Be as close to her as possible, but without the fear for her safety holding him back.
His warm breath tickled her lips, seeking an invitation, but she denied him with a hoarse whisper. "Harvey, don't."
"Why?" he asked. He'd let this moment slip by on too many occasions. This time, he was going to be vocal and present. "Donna—"
She shook her head, careful of his sling as she lightly pushed on his chest. He relented, but only by a few inches, his hand sliding to her waist with a firm squeeze. Her eyes flashed up. "Because when you change your mind, there isn't anywhere you can run." The truth came out a little harsh, but they had just reached a point where they could coexist amicably together. When he inevitably got cold feet, she would be the one nursing a broken heart in the room next door.
He blew out a fast sigh, loosening his grip. Since they had stepped through the door to the cramped apartment, she had been pushing him away, and he didn't blame her reaction. Over the years, he had found ways to justify his shortsightedness hurting her. Even when he had been able to access his feelings, he'd still let her believe he didn't see her that way. He'd only wanted to protect her, but he was finished making excuses.
"When you told me to talk to Cahill, to put you at risk, it hit me that you're the most important person in my life." He skated his thumb over the flannel of her pyjamas, his touch gentle and affectionate, and his gaze unwavering. "I wasn't running away, Donna. But I couldn't be honest, because when I kiss you, that takes us to a place where I'm never letting you go."
Her lips quivered as she stared at him, a flurry of thoughts racing through her mind. It couldn't be possible that she had completely misread him on the rooftop. He had to be in shock or under the influence of his pain medication. Except, as she stood there — the one struggling with rapid panic — his expression remained calm and focused, with a hint of a smile teasing her. He was serious. About how he felt and what he wanted moving forward. "When you kiss me?" she asked shakily.
He nodded, captivated by the flicker of realization that gradually brightened her eyes. There was a new understanding in her brown orbs, and her mouth fell open then promptly closed, a rarity he'd witnessed when she didn't know what to say. Unable to help himself, he smirked. "Or I can take care of those roaches in the bathroom? Up to you."
A different rush of disbelief washed over her. She couldn't believe he was joking, and she scolded his immaturity. "What is wrong with you?"
He laughed, reining in the sound as he grew serious again. "Nothing. Because I finally know where I'm supposed to be."
Beaming a grin, he leaned down with a slow but determined purpose, his hand moving to cradle her head as he captured her mouth, her soft, subtle moan drowning his senses as she stretched up on her toes. He inhaled her need, deepening the kiss as he tugged her, his thighs colliding with the edge of the bed. The knock jostled his arm, forcing out a small grunt as he tried to navigate the quickly ebbing pain. Which Donna noticed.
Her face scrunched back, but he bypassed the worry in her gaze, beaming at the enticement of her pink, swollen lips. "I can be careful."
"But you won't be." She arched an eyebrow as his hand found its way beneath her sweater, traversing her skin with lazy strokes.
"You're forgetting… I know how flexible you are."
Goosebumps prickled down her spine as he smirked mischievously, and she fought the urge to remind him. "Harvey—"
"I'm kidding." He tucked his palm below her bra strap, just holding her. There was no point in trying to deny how much he wanted her. The bulge hardening in his pants spoke for itself. And he wasn't ashamed of his need. But they weren't fighting a clock like the last time they'd been this intimate. "I'll be here tomorrow, the next day… Forty years from now. If you want to wait, I will."
Tears clung to her upper lashes as she ran her nails over the wool of his sweater to the nylon strap of his sling. She felt responsible for his injury and didn't want to set his recovery back, but the warmth spreading from his palm, his dark irises growing brighter, made her seek out his gentle comfort, her fingers brushing his jaw as she reached up on her toes to kiss him tenderly.
"Stay still." She murmured the request, gently removing his sling off and tossing it on the bed. Not wanting to leave him without support, her hands quickly found their way under his t-shirt and sweater, carefully guiding everything off, leaving his torso bare except for the brace that was strapped around his shoulder. She lifted her gaze, blushing under his warm smile as she picked up his sling again. "How's the pain? Really."
He grimaced as she fitted the support, burying a smirk in her hair. "Nothing you can't kiss better."
"Oh my God." Her laugh rattled against his chest, but his lips moved further down, teasing her neck, and she stopped mocking him for being corny. If his discomfort grew serious, she would stop. Right now, her need to bring them together physically closer had her reaching to pull off her flannel shirt and singlet.
Harvey breathed in sharply as she bared her naked breasts, his hand rushing up to caress the perfect sight. If he had both arms available, he would have thrown her onto the bed there and then, but he restrained himself, sinking down on the edge of the mattress and opening his knees.
She moved instinctively between his thighs, groaning as he fondled her nipple with one palm and used his tongue to tease the other. Even though he was restricted by movement, his passionate devotion to her, and the wetness pooling in her panties, proved his skillful ministrations weren't suffering from his handicap. But somewhere in her blissful haze, she was mindful that she had to take control. If she let Harvey have his way, he'd land himself in the ER again.
Guiding his head back, she took his face in her hands. "Get comfortable."
She sucked on his lower lip, and he growled in protest when she pulled away. But his frustration disappeared in a haze as he watched her slide her bottoms off, leaving her clad in a pair of black lace panties. His eyes hungrily devoured every inch of her, mesmerized as she freed her hair, the tousled curls bouncing down over her freckled shoulders. He rose to count them with his tongue while lavishing her milky skin as he sunk his hand between her thighs, but she robbed him of the goal with a feverish kiss.
"On the bed," she ordered.
He shook his head. "I want to taste you."
The husky whisper made her knees wobble, and she sighed as his hand traveled between them, gasping as he slid into her panties, teasing her slick folds. Her nails scraped the back of his neck as she held on, rocking her hips and whimpering when he withdrew too quickly, smearing her juices over her taut nipples so he could lick them clean.
He purred his appreciation for the delicacy against the column of her throat, and she gripped his hand, discouraging any more fast moves. He'd get to have his fun… In a position that didn't put a strain on his back. "Lie down."
Her tone yielded more force, and his dick throbbed in response. He wasn't finished with her, but her gaze narrowed with teasing determination.
"If you don't, you'll be having a cold shower with the roaches."
"At least they wouldn't—"
"Wouldn't what?" She challenged him, sliding her palms into his slacks and cupping his ass.
He swallowed and grinned. "Nothing."
She dragged his bottoms down, and he groaned as her head bobbed near his straining groin, which she seemed to deliberately ignore as she tapped the side of his ankle. She smirked up at him, and he stepped out of the clothes, begrudgingly following her order and propping up two pillows.
He lay down on his back, and she licked her lips as she crawled on top of him, straddling his hips and rubbing her ass against his erection.
Gripping her buttocks, he kneaded the soft flesh as she kissed him, alternating a slap with soothing strokes as she nibbled and sucked on his lower lip, making his crotch lift with restless, desperate thrusts. "Donna."
She chuckled at his tight, gravely plea, lifting herself up and strutting her chest out as she reached behind, feeling her way down his hardened shaft. The ridges pulsed under her touch, and she mewled at his girth as she spread his dripping pre-cum from tip to base.
She sped up, and he growled, pinching her waist as his eyes slammed shut. "Fuck." He grunted, torn between calling for her to stop and letting her keep going.
His thighs shifted beneath her, and she withdrew her hand, placing her palms on either side of his tight expression and ragged breathing. She kissed him softly, giving him a moment, before his fingers sprung to life, clawing at her underwear. He fumbled his way into the drenched lace and she buried her face in his neck, squirming as he teased her opening with the occasional circle around her clit. Heat ebbed from her core, cooled by waves of wet need, and she jerked up, helping him rip down the fabric so she could feel more than just his shallow thrusts inside her.
Stretching her knees, she sank onto him, leaning her weight back on his thighs so she wouldn't hurt him.
His thumb returned to her clit, brushing light strokes as she began to move, and he arched his head deeper into the pillows, fighting the urge to grab her and drive up with reckless abandon. He couldn't do both, but he increased his pressure with her faster pace, sweat beading across his chest as she rode him hard, driving him insane. He restrained himself until her walls started to flex and squeeze, and he grabbed her waist with bruising force as he jerked his hips up.
She met his thrusts with a breathy whimper as she unraveled around him, both of them tumbling over the edge with panting gasps. Trembling, her arms felt weak as she rolled over onto his good side, their joint smiles meeting as he buried his hand in her hair.
Her head fell to his chest, content to lie in the quiet until they found their words. There was no rush. No drama happening inside the walls surrounding them.
They had all the time in the world to talk.
