I'm a little uncertain where I'm going with this, but I was so stressed out from reading pandemic news that writing was the only thing that could calm me down, and here we are. Quarantine Part II, with a sprinkle of smut from The Other Time.

(Every time I write smut now I feel like I identify more and more as Donna Paulsen Boob Enthusiast. Anyone with me?)

One and a half hours before quarantine

Harvey had only made it home five minute prior, giving him time to shrug off his coat, put down his paperwork, undo his tie and the first few buttons, and plop down on the sofa with his arms spread out along the length of it, and his head tilted back.

For a while he just let his head hang back as he stared into a spot on his ceiling. Now that he was able to rest, he could finally admit that he was exhausted. And as much as he hated his workload this past week, he was grateful for a break, and curious as to what this "work from home" experience would bring.

God, he really needed a shower.

Five minutes later

He really shouldn't be doing this.

But fuck, if it hasn't been a stressful week. The global pandemic had been riding his ass, and he's spent the last 150 hours on the edge of his seat, trying to put out fire after fire. He hasn't even thought about whether it's possible he's been exposed to the virus or not. He's just exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Which is why, when the thought of Donna pops into his head (like it occasionally does), he doesn't even have the energy to fight it. It might also be the fact that he doesn't know when he's going to see her next, so it's a little less shameful.

Harvey often wonders if Donna knows just how tempestuous she is. And it's not only the low-cut dresses or her heels that make her legs seem like they go on for forever- it's her head tilt and smirk when she knows she has him, her ability to know everything and choosing to use her superpower for good, and her determination to squash every corporate man who dares to get in her way.

He's always thought Donna was physically attractive, and if she were just another woman he met at a bar, there's no doubt he would've tried to wine and dine her for an amazing night in bed. It's because she's all that and so much more that he refuses to give into his want for her, because she is Donna Paulsen and she's always deserved way more.

As if on cue, the flashbacks of The Other Time start crowding into Harvey's brain, but the hot water running down the crevices of his body does nothing to soothe him. He puts two hands on the shower tiles and tries to slow his breathing in a lame effort to control himself, but all it does is give him a perfect view of his growing erection.

The Other Time (or at least, how Harvey remembers it)

When Donna's door opens and reveals the woman herself dressed in nothing but a white cardigan and a flimsy purple nightgown, his eyes try their best to not glaze over. It's nearly insane for him, how much he's wanted this for so long- they've worked together for a good number of years, and there are substantially more days where he's thought about them like that then when he hasn't.

And when she reveals the whipped cream she's been holding all this time during their banter, Harvey's very nearly at full mast. He doesn't think he'll ever get over the fact that she's always one step ahead of him, even when she's anticipating earth-shattering sex she knows he will deliver to her.

When he finally crosses over the threshold to kiss her, it derails very quickly from there. He swears her lips are a perfect match for his, and he can't help but suck on her voluptuous lips and internally groans when she's biting his in retaliation (he always thought she'd be an amazing kisser). When he pins her to her door and his hands are finally free to touch her, it's like they have a mind of their own- he likes that despite the heels, she is actually quite small and his hands easily cover her. They're roaming down the sides of her silk nightgown until they hit the bare skin of her thigh and she feels so heavenly he's momentarily rooted to the spot in disbelief. When he's finally sane enough to keep going and he starts pressing hot kisses down her neck, hot enough to induce her first moan, he's suddenly hyperaware of how she's everywhere. It makes him dizzy, how her hands are pulling at the strands of his hair, her soft breasts heaving against his chest, and how her leg's circled around him with her heel digging into the back of his thigh so that he can already sense the heat of her core, despite the layers of clothing.

None of this really surprises him, because their chemistry's always been off the charts. Now he's just mad they had to wait so fucking long to do this one thing that's obviously good for the both of them.

One of his hands finds her hip while the other snakes around to the curve of her ass so that he can hold her still as he grinds into her in one long stroke, laced with intention. When she responds by biting on her lip and gripping onto his shoulders for support as her knees give out, he really thinks he's going to lose his fucking mind trying to imagine how she's going to look when he sheaths himself in her for the first time.

"Harvey," she pants, and the sound of it makes his dick throb.

"Bedroom," he growls, and he helps her maintain her balance and he forces her to lead the way.

En route, he starts shedding his clothing and Donna does the same. He's out of his jacket and shirt in milliseconds, in such a rush he rips the bottom half of his shirt buttons open because he can't be bothered. Donna turns around to watch him, and it doesn't escape him when her eyes darken as his torso finally comes to view. She keeps staring silently as her shoulders shrug off her cardigan. And right when they're at her open bedroom door and she moves her hands to the straps of her nightgown to take it off, his hands shoot out and grab her wrist.

"Don't," he orders. "I want to do it."

Harvey is pleased when he notices the goosebumps that spread across her skin at his command. He thinks he'd better watch out before he finds himself a new favorite hobby- discovering what Donna does and doesn't like in the bedroom,.

"Fine then, let me take care of this," she retaliates, and before he can understand what she means, she's pulling him into the bedroom by the belt buckle of his pants and getting on her knees to undo it, and suddenly he forgets how to breathe.

If her room was nice, he doesn't remember, because all of his vision at the moment tunneled towards the king bed made perfectly waiting for them in the middle of the room. His thoughts are interrupted when he feels Donna's hand brush against his length, followed by the briskness of the room air when she tugs his pants down.

He makes quick work to step out of his socks and then he's just left in his boxers. They've tented already, that much he knows, and he's almost be embarrassed by the fact if Donna wasn't blatantly staring at his crotch and biting her lip again.

"Like what you see?" he jokes, in an effort to offset the rising tension.

"Certainly lives up to my imagination," she answers, completely serious.

"Donna," he moans, through a clenched jaw. "I swear you're going to fucking kill me."

He's not lying. He's wanted her for so long but knowing now she was just as desperate, having taken the time to think about his cock, well, he doesn't even know how to process that.

"Come here," he says instead, propping himself to sit on the bed and pulling her into his lap. "Wait, where's the-"

"Here," she responds, as she pulls out the can of whipped cream, seemingly out of nowhere.

"How did you-"

She straddles him fully then. "When will you learn? I'm Donna," she says, as she leans her chest against his and accompanies the mention of her name with a seductive roll of her hips.

"Christ," he breathes out. He has to take control back before he ends up in a puddle. His hands grab desperately at her ass before they come back to her hips to stop her movements. When she stops gyrating, he has to actively not think about how his tip is pressing right against her center. He focuses all of her energy instead on kissing her shoulder before moving to pull on a strap of his nightgown with his teeth. "Let's get this off,"

As she sits back, Harvey delicately drags the two straps of the nightgown off her shoulders before pulling the fabric down below to her stomach. And when her breasts are finally revealed, he's honest-to-god gobsmacked, and he wouldn't be surprised if his eyes looked like saucers.

"Like what you see?" she smirks back at him, with much more confidence than he had.

He doesn't even know where to begin. "At the risk of a sexual misconduct lawsuit- God yes, even better than I imagined," he groans, as one his hands moves to palm her breast. They're round, perky, and a perfect handful, and he thinks she probably belongs in an art museum instead of in his arms. When he flicks a nipple and he says it visibly stiffen, his dick twitches again as both hands move to get a feel. "Jesus, Donna, how you are this fucking perfect is beyond me."

"Harvey," she says as steadily as possible with his hands covering her body, "you know I don't appreciate limits being put on my beauty,"

He's too entranced to say anything.

"Besides," she continues, as she grabs the can of whipped cream and sprays two perfect circles around her nipples, "how do you like me now?"

Present time

Somewhere between trying to not think about Donna and now, Harvey's wound himself so tightly that he thinks he might combust if he doesn't actually do something about it. So, against his moral principle, he turns the water on cold and tugs on his length thinking about what happened after, how he sucked the whipped cream off of her until she was mewling uncontrollably.

He explodes immediately with a loud groan onto the confines of his shower, the cold water proving absolutely useless in calming him down. He's honestly surprised he lasted this long, because he never allows himself to let the whole experience unfold.

All he can do for a few minutes after is soak himself under the water and think about what he's done. Obviously he feels a little dirty, but he wonders if the fact that it's never just been about the sex with her makes it any better.

One Hour and Fifteen Minutes Before Quarantine

Donna strolls easily into Harvey's apartment, looking poised and chic in her casual clothes, with her arms easily handling the supplies she's prepared for him in one and her handbag in the other.

She had meant to come earlier, but with the current conditions of all things considered, she had had a surprisingly difficult time hailing down a cab. It was eerie seeing the streets of Manhattan so empty, but that isn't to say she didn't enjoy it all the same.

She is, however, perplexed to see an apartment with no Harvey in it. After calling out his name and receiving no response, she decides to put the groceries away and check his bedroom afterwards to see if he may have fallen asleep. It never hurt to have a good blackmail picture or two.

Harvey finishes his shower after he finally feels a bit more relaxed, all things considered, with the stress of his past week being replaced with the pruny sensations of his fingertips. He steps out and dries himself, taking one long look at his tired face in the steamed mirror before wrapping the towel around his waist and walking towards the kitchen.

"Oh Harvey, there you ar- oh my god," is what he hears right away.

He jumps and his eyes go straight to the source of sound as she drops a roll of paper towels in her hand.

"Donna?! What are you doing here?!"

"What are you doing here in a towel?! Didn't I tell you I was coming?!"

Fuck. He remembers suddenly and is immediately mortified. She had been kind enough to buy him extra supplies and even kinder to have offered to drop them off, and what she gets in return is her ex-boss sauntering around languidly with nothing but a towel. After a shower during which he jacked off, thinking solely of her.

He can't say it doesn't excite him instinctually, and the realization with how his body is going to inevitably respond forces his hands to shoot down and cover himself while he turns around.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, I was so fazed when I got home that I immediately jumped into the shower, I swear this was not on purpose Donna I swear-"

Donna's terrified expression quickly turns around when she bursts into laughter. "Jesus, Harvey, I know you've had a long week, but this might be a new low for you,"

"I'm just going to...go back and change now," he responds meekly, before rushing back into change.

When Donna's left alone, her laughter subsides, and she finds herself subconsciously biting her lip. The situation? Incredibly funny. She would never have imagined this unfolding, and she's glad it did because she can't wait to fast forward a year from now and reminisce about what just happened. What isn't so funny, however, is how damn attractive he looked, fresh out of the shower, with a towel hanging low over his hips. It's been years since she's seen his naked chest and toned abs, and she'll be damned before she's ever caught thinking about The Other Time, but holy shit did he offer a fucking magnificent view.

She only looked for a few seconds, but it's clearly apparent that his years of boxing have really agreed with him, and for a second she wonders how good it would feel to just let go of her inhibitions and let him have his wicked way with her. The shiver that subsequently runs through her body from the thought is neither an unwelcome or unfamiliar one.

She needs to get out of here before it's too late, which means there's no time to read into his knee-jerk response, or what part of him he was so adamant on covering first.