Skeletons in the Closet

By carnifax (originally posted to tumblr)
Suits
Harvey/Mike
Rated T
Romance | General
In an apartment as big as Harvey's, it was only a matter of time before Mike opened the wrong door.

Harvey has a room of requirement... Just let it happen.

Mike had just meant to grab his phone from the closet where he thought Harvey had hung his jacket, but in an apartment this big, Mike wasn't surprised when he opened the wrong door.

What was surprising, though, was what he saw when he flicked on the lightswitch.

And entire room opened up before him, rich and elegant like the rest of Harvey's place, but immediately different. There was a four-poster bed at the corner of it, except the mahogany posts and headboard seemed to be outfitted with holes and hooks and fastenings. There was a mask on the nightstand—more than one, and some kind of ropes—and, in the center of the room, something hanging from the ceiling with what were recognizably restraints. A bureau sat on the other side of the room, its drawers neatly closed, but the riding crop and small bottles on top of it shot a thrill through Mike that he wasn't sure he wanted to understand. At the very end of the room was a semicircle of tall mirrors—in which Mike caught Harvey's reflection, appearing over Mike's shoulder.

Harvey pulled him out of the doorway, flicking off the light and slamming the door in a practiced maneuver. Then he stood with his back to the door, his hand still on the doorknob, his eyes on his Mike and his expression remarkably even.

Mike could feel his heart thrumming hard under his ribcage and knew what he'd just seen would stick in his mind for years, just like everything else—except this was Harvey, not numbers, and jesus fucking christ—

"We don't go into that room," Harvey said, slow and enunciated, as if talking to a small child. His eyes searched Mike's face, and Mike could see the cracks in his façade. There was tension there, evident in the tiny twitches at the corner Harvey's lips, but there was something else burning at the back of his eyes; something like embarrassment, something like arousal.

"We don't go into that room," Harvey said, slower.

Mike knew what he was saying, exactly what he meant by that. This never happened, this will never happen again, this will not leave this apartment tonight, or else.

Honestly, though, Mike couldn't say he was surprised that Harvey had all that—that stuff. And Mike couldn't say he hadn't imagined it, or hoped for it, either. There was just something about the way Harvey barked commands, the way Mike himself had become so comfortable with following his boss' lead, the way Harvey could simply tilt his head or raise one eyebrow and Mike knew exactly what to—

"Mike," Harvey said, his voice low with a warning, sending terrible, wonderful heat through Mike's veins.

"We don't go into that room," Mike echoed. He pinned his lower lip between his teeth, not unaware of the way Harvey's eyes traced the movement, and then he conjured up the wickedest grin he could manage. "But—I mean, we could."

Harvey was enough of a professional to keep up his steely expression, but he couldn't hide the sharp intake of breath, or the way his eyes perceptibly darkened.

"Anyway," Mike said, instantly falling back into nonchalance as he turned toward another door in the hallway. "Where did you put my jacket? Is it this door?"

Harvey didn't answer. When Mike glanced over at him, he was still staring at Mike, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight and his breath coming just slightly too fast to be normal.

Mike turned back to the other, actual closet, and smiled.

This was going to be fun.