A/N: This should come with a (minor) trigger warning for mentioning sexual assault.
On warm summer nights, after shooting, Harvey likes to retire to his condo overlooking the city, eat dinner, and then drink wine, naked in the jacuzzi outside, watching the sun bleed into the horizon.
Tonight the routine is no different, but the company is.
Two glasses into his Pinot Noir, he feels his blood starting to heat, matching the warm, bubbling water around him. His cock that softly swayed with the water begins to grow.
He leans back to set his wine down and then brings his hand to his chest, slowly trailing it down his muscled pecs. He continues his descent to his abs and hastily moves towards his goal, curling his fingers around his erection.
"Get over here," he commands.
The blonde's name, with the glasses that seem two sizes too big for her nose, is Jules. She considers him her boyfriend. He… Well, not so much. He doesn't really do the girlfriend thing and prefers to keep it casual.
His mom accused him once of being afraid of getting too close in a relationship. Said he has problems with intimacy, but he thought that was stupid considering what he does for a living – and then he was informed that sex is not intimacy. Really?
His brother told him he was emotionally unavailable, whatever that means. Called him shiftless and unable to put down roots or plan a real future. Said he needs to do a little more growing up and allow himself to be openly vulnerable. Ridiculous.
What they don't know is that he does keep it consistent, even if it's just for the sake of his job. Maintaining a single relationship is less hassle than juggling multiple partners, and minimizes risks like exposure to new infections, which can be especially important in his line of work.
And yes, maybe he never thought about putting a goddamn ring on Jules' finger, doesn't even love her, but he's never been less than honest about not wanting anything long term with his partners.
Admittedly, Jules would probably make a great wife. She's smart, well-spoken, and good-looking.
In fact, she looks incredibly sexy as she unties the knot on the top of her head and gives her hair a good shake like a slo-mo seventies supermodel, then swims over to him, a seductive smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Her features are very regular, but the attraction of her face is found in her eyes, which are a dark velvety brown, in striking contrast with the ashy blonde curve of her eyebrows and the dainty, delicate gold of her hair.
He's not usually into blondes – brunettes, redheads. Man, he has a thing for redheads. All that temper…
Though, when it comes to cardinal acts, he loves women with experience, and this woman standing before him is about ten years older than him.
"How'd you feel about having your sweet pussy fucked?" he growls, arousal making his voice harsh.
"Thought you'd never ask," she purrs, smirking.
Harvey grins and brings his lips to hers, loving the eagerness with which the woman responds to his touch.
As they kiss languidly, their mouths tasting each other, he snakes his hand deeper in the water and between her legs, spreading them wide open.
Running his fingers through her slick folds, he uses two fingers to tease her while his other hand grabs himself and guides his cock to her entrance.
Oh, the shit his agent gave him after she learned that he'd had sex in a jacuzzi. Something about imbalances in water chemistry and bacterial growth. How those things could irritate the genitals and cause infections.
He didn't really listen to the specifics, but he hired an expert to ensure the jacuzzi was safe for sex at all times. Had him set up a cleaning and maintenance schedule.
Jessica laughed at him then, but he thinks that's only because she'd never had sex in a hot tub, at least not the kind that she would miss if she didn't have it anymore.
He breaks through Jules' walls easily, the feeling of water enhancing the sensations of their joining, and begins to thrust lazily into her, pushing all the way in before almost pulling out.
They are both quiet, only their moans and panting breaths reverberating through the air as the water tranquilly sloshes around them.
But as Harvey picks up the pace, Jules bucks wildly and soon she comes with a sharp cry, her breath catching in her throat, her hands grasping his ass as she desperately needs something to latch on to.
There's nothing romantic about it, he thinks. And a part of him becomes painfully aware of how little it bothers him. He doesn't need it to mean anything as long as it feels different from having sex at work – and it does.
When the camera rolls and he sees the raw emotion his scene partner brings to the moment, he feels the sweet triumph of a man who knows how to elicit a genuine response from a woman. It's a glorious feeling of power.
Here, at home, with someone he cares about, it's not about the ego-boost of a climax, manufactured performances, or fleeting validation. It's simply about making sure they both have a great time. A shared experience that leaves them both fulfilled.
He remembers the first time someone saw potential in him, handing him a business card with a knowing smile.
Back then, he knew he had to be more than just good-looking and a great lover in bed. He had to become really skilled as an actor if he wanted to succeed at his job.
Years later, that dedication has paid off, and he's reached a level of mastery in his craft that few others achieve. There's a boisterous confidence in his abilities now, the knowledge that he brings something unique to the industry.
It all started in college after his dad died, when grief shadowed him. To numb the pain, he poured himself into a crazy idea: making amateur videos to raise money for his dream vintage car and boxing lessons – after all, sex was the thing he felt most comfortable with.
He never expected anyone to watch, but within weeks, the unexpected income made him believe he could make an actual business out of it, so he started recording himself having sex with his 'girlfriends.' With their consent.
It worked a treat… Until the dean found out and suspended him for violating the code of conduct and reflecting poorly on the college.
His mother was furious with him, but he didn't care. Because, apparently, his amateur porn had turned him into somewhat of a viral internet sensation. So much so that one day a studio executive who wanted to hire him for a production approached him.
Another project followed, skyrocketing his career. He recognized a new physical prowess in himself and how marketing his body would earn him more money than he'd ever be able to spend in a month. And, well, he loved sex, so that was a great benefit, too.
Leaving college without a degree felt like a reckless bet, all chips pushed to the center of the table. But taking a chance had always been in his blood, a thrill as familiar as the worn leather of his boxing gloves.
Seeing where he is today, with the world his stage, success etching a mark on his journey, the gamble clearly has paid off. There's no doubt in his mind that it was the right call, and he's glad that even his mom understands that now. He'd even say she's his biggest supporter.
He's living a careless, profligate life, and far beyond his means – certainly better than he would have if he had finished college. Money, he's learned, can buy a lot, a damn good life even. Happiness might be the one thing that remains stubbornly out of reach.
Except, maybe it's not. He loves what he does. His family's a constant source of grounding, and the few he calls friends are irreplaceable. Maybe happiness is the quiet hum of contentment that thrums beneath the surface of his life. Maybe that's all he needs.
Love.
His mother's still convinced that's what he needs the most, to find someone who'll love him the way fairytales promise. But whenever he thinks of having that, he remembers his parent's fractured relationship. The shipwreck it became, leaving jagged scars on his childhood.
Love, in his mind, can be a fragile thing, easily shattered. He wouldn't risk that kind of heartbreak, not on himself, not on anyone else. Yeah, that truly might be the one thing he doesn't gamble on in life: losing his heart.
"Hey, Jules," Harvey murmurs as he nuzzles his cheek against hers. "You wanna go for a little ride?"
A breathless laugh escapes her lips. "Again?"
"In my car," he clarifies, smirking.
She draws back and looks at him with a frown. "And where would we go?"
"No destination, just—"
"Yes," she says with a smile.
He knows how much this softer side of him, a side that's gentle and caring, resonates with women, disarming them. There's no denying the quiet pleasure he takes in witnessing their reactions.
But it's not an act. It's a paradox – a tender heart coexisting with a cynical mind. It's a part of him that naturally surfaces with the people he cares about.
And as much as he likes to deny that part even exists sometimes, this persistent tenderness is one of the few things reminding him that his parents didn't destroy everything good inside him.
It's like a stubborn flicker of love refusing to be extinguished. He may have lost faith in happily-ever-afters, but he kept the light in his soul.
When they arrive at Jules' apartment complex, Harvey doesn't hesitate to accept her invitation when she asks him if he wants to come inside.
He cums inside her twice – that night, and the next morning. And before he hurries out the door, he cums once more, filling her mouth with his hot, sticky fluid.
She swallows everything he gives her, then licks every bit of him up with her tongue. The face she makes when she raises her head and stares up at him makes him wish he didn't have to leave.
•••
"I heard you wanted to see me?"
Jessica rolls her eyes at him when she sees his smug expression. "That was three hours ago."
"If you knew what I was doing three hours ago, I don't think you would've wanted me to see you," Harvey teases as he plops into the chair opposite her.
"I knew what you were doing three hours ago."
His grin widens, and then he says, "Maybe you should try having some morning meetings yourself."
"Don't you worry about my mornings," she deadpans.
She wants to roll her eyes harder at his comment. Wants to tell him to quit those adolescent antics. But anything she'll say will only incite him more, make him bathe in that smugness like a pig in slurry.
"What you should worry about," she continues, "is those allegations."
"Jessica…" He tilts his head back and his body starts to puff up real big. He slowly opens his mouth and lets out a long, low hiss. "You know I never laid a hand on that woman. I didn't kiss her."
"Yes, Harvey, I know that."
"Then why does it matter what some stranger has to say about me?"
"Because it might hurt your career."
"Listen…" he leans forward, glaring at her. "This isn't the first time someone's claiming I acted inappropriately to gain some publicity. And as my agent, you of all people should know this's done nothing to my career."
"Not yet," she mumbles.
"Okay, fine," Harvey groans. "Pretending for a moment you're right. What do you think we should do?"
"Sue her."
"Really?" He raises an eyebrow.
Jessica nods. "Let Mike handle it. He's done it before. He's a brilliant lawyer."
"He's the best."
"That's why he'll be able to prove those allegations are false."
Harvey stays silent for a minute, looking down at his feet. Jessica knows him long enough to feel the shift in his mood before he even opens his mouth to speak.
"This isn't fair," he murmurs. "I know I'm mostly to blame for my image, but why do I have to be the scapegoat for people's weird obsessions?"
He looks up at her, his expression hardening.
"You know what she did?" He raises his voice, speaking more firmly now. "She broke into my mother's home and slept in my old room. Scared my mom to death."
The anger – the rage – rips Harvey's throat, and he wants to punch something. To keep from acting on the impulse, he curls his hand into a fist and grinds it into his side, pressing his knuckles hard against his thigh.
"She harassed Marcus and the kids. Ambushed Ray. Tried to catch me in the shower at the gym. And then she has the audacity to tell the world I forced myself on her?" he scoffs.
"If I would've wanted to hurt her, Jessica, I would've done it the second she threatened my family," he growls. "I lost my shit when I saw her that night. I intimidated her. Yelled at her. But I didn't even touch her."
Harvey pauses, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opens them again and sighs. Wordlessly, he gets up and walks over to the small bar to pour himself a drink. He empties it in one gulp, then slams the glass on the table.
"Hell, I don't even do this shit for work," he says, almost shouting. "I won't let anyone paint me as a man who abuses women, not even if it's fiction."
Jessica sighs. "Harvey, I've known you for over ten years. I know the real you. And this is exactly why I think we can't ignore this. You're the victim. You deserve to tell your side of the story."
Harvey turns around to face her. His shoulders slump under the invisible weight and the tension of the moment tightens every muscle in his body. "I never should've told anyone my real name," he mutters under his breath.
"They would've found out anyway," Jessica says softly, her voice caring and compassionate.
"But I made it easier for them to hurt the ones I love, didn't I?"
"Yeah, well, maybe if you had acted less like the God of this industry, people would've lost interest quickly," she says teasingly, trying to raise the mood.
He takes the bait, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin. "You know that's not my style."
She smirks. "I do."
"So…" He steps closer. "We hand this over to Mike?"
"We should."
Sitting back down, Harvey nods. "Alright. But I don't wanna hear anything else about this case until it goes to trial. And if she asks for money to settle, I'll take the offer, but she has to give a statement to the press saying she lied. Otherwise, they will think I paid her to stay quiet."
"So you're paying her to tell the truth?"
"Yeah," he hums. "If that's what it takes. I just wanna focus on my work."
"About that…"
His eyebrow flares up. "You got something?"
"The studio is finally moving forward with that miniseries. They're auditioning for the female lead."
"I want Birdie Fox," Harvey speaks determinedly, firing the words like bullets.
"Donna Paulsen?"
He nods, smirking. "You know I have a thing for redheads, Jessica, and I heard she's amazing."
"You mean in bed or her acting?"
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"Hardly," she scoffs.
"Come on," he urges, "I've been wanting to work with that woman for ages. You can't deny me this opportunity."
"Apparently, they sent her multiple versions of the script and never heard back."
"So she's playing hard to get, huh? Mm, I like that."
"Harvey," Jessica scolds him like a child when she sees the smug look on his face returning. "I need you to take this seriously. This could become a real hit."
He chuckles. "I am taking this seriously," he insists. "That's why I want the best one for the job."
Although they've been working for the same studio for a while now, he's only met her once in the lounge area. It was a moment he'll never forget.
First, because she looked so freaking hot that day, he wanted to rip the dress away and feast himself on the body that he was pretty sure was virtually naked beneath the clinging black material.
Second, because of what she said to him, speaking in that low, sexy voice that made him want to close his eyes and just absorb it into his skin and bones, and other particular more sensitive parts.
His mouth watered, and he found himself wondering if her skin would taste as sweet as it smelled. Too bad he wasn't going to find out, at least not anytime soon.
Harvey grabbed an apple off the table and sank his teeth into it. It calved like an iceberg on his tongue, and over its crunching, he spoke. "So, is it true?"
"Is what true?" Donna replied.
"That you're always faking it."
She snort-laughed and raised one eyebrow, deeply incredulous. "You can't possibly think I get actual pleasure out of being fucked while there's at least two cameras shoved into my face with a handful of people watching."
Chuckling, he said, "Well, if you put it like that…" He juggled the apple between his palms, staring into her eyes. "I bet I could make you forget all about those cameras," he made a dramatic pause, "… the lighting," letting every word sink in, "… the people…"
"You're giving yourself too much credit," Donna said nonchalantly. "I don't think anyone could make me forget it's a shoot."
"Sounds like a challenge," he replied with a smug grin.
"One you are never gonna get to take," she countered, snatching the apple out of his hand. She took an enormous bite as she backed off, her gaze still transfixed on him.
For a moment, Harvey was too stunned to speak, not having expected that move. But then a wide smirk spread across his face and he said, "Look at us already exchanging bodily fluids. How d'you like my taste?"
"I don't know..." She pretended to think hard about her answer, then gave him a mocking smile. "It tastes foul… like someone has his head too far up their own ass."
With a final flick of her hair, she turned and walked away, leaving him to the echo of his own laughter.
"If you knew how pretty my ass looks, you'd understand," Harvey called after her.
"Doubt it," she chirped, letting the silence hang for a beat before raising one arm in a casual wave goodbye with the back of her hand.
"What's so funny?" Jessica asks, noticing the huge grin plastered all over Harvey's face.
"Nothing. Just a memory," he says with a chuckle. "So, will you tell the producers to ask her again?"
"You really want her, hm?"
"It's not a want. It's a need," he quips.
"You and your damn needs, Harvey Specter."
"My needs pay you good money."
She laughs at that. "I will let them know that you specifically asked for Birdie Fox."
"And if she has any demands, they better agree to them if they wanna keep me on board, 'cause I won't be doing this with anyone else. Just don't tell Paulsen I said that."
"You know the studio is dying to have their two biggest stars in a project together. They won't risk offending either of you."
"Then we got ourselves a deal," he says, grinning.