So, fair warning, this content ventures into M-category. I'm going to put a SUITS where I think you can break and come back if that bothers you, just in case you really want to finish this. But some content is lightly spread. Thank you SO much for the reviews. You have no idea how much they mean to me. I cherish every one!
Her back presses against the door's thin barrier, the only tangible thing standing between her and Harvey. She realizes once again how flimsy all of the intangible dividers between them remain. None of them solid enough to truly separate them, but all of them obstructing forward momentum. She pushes off of the surface, flips on the light, and slips her straps from her shoulders, letting her dress fall to the floor.
Next she removes her black lace thong, hanging the dress and lingerie on a hook, then starts unpinning her hair while watching in the mirror. The fact that Harvey could see her like this with the turn of the door handle, or an open of the shutters behind the tub taunts her. Makes her want to take control.
She could march out right now, and do what she'd done that day in his office. Brazenly. Recklessly. A siren to his disorientating equivocation. He'd reject her or fuck her and they could get the damn thing out of the way, and deal with wherever the remains scattered.
The assurance he'd made her state that morning stops her. It's never going to happen again. Wisdom informs her she can't repeat the similar action twice.
She pins her hair loosely on her head, needing a shower before she'll sleep. The crook in her neck still feels cool from the moisture of his kiss, and her body still feels the reactive heat. Tension over the day rinses away, but doesn't stop images of his open mouth exploring refreshed skin. The water does nothing to ease her trepidation over her feelings of things unknown.
When she's done, she stares at his folded clothes on the counter. Her body will inhabit the same spots his does in the material; an image that twinges sensual places. She forces the thought to flit away. They're not the leads in a racy romance movie, even if a couple of those looks he'd thrown her would've given her the green light with any other man.
She dresses, frees her hair again, and steps out, thankful for the dim lights because of the translucent barrier men's white undershirts provide. When he sees her, his eyes do a quick scan of her anyway, then lock on her face.
All the words always left unsaid hang above them like an overfull net, waiting for one to tumble out.
One of his does first. He takes a step, face set, and hand lifting to punctuate his point. "Look, I didn't invite you here because I was upset with you, and I sure as shit can't handle something else getting in between us again so soon." His jaw slackens, lips parting as if the words to come take more of an effort. "Look, I don't know how to do this."
This. For once, she wishes they could stop speaking in vague pronouns and adjectives. "It's okay, Harvey. It's been rough lately." She doesn't help the grammar conundrum. She's not one to first concede.
He nods briefly, still not looking completely settled.
She turns to the minibar, the bottle of Pinot Noir calling to her. "After you get ready," she picks up the wine, "you wanna share a glass?"
"I'm sure we could both use it."
While he disappears in the restroom, she pours for them both and sets the half full glasses on a small table, taking a seat and adjusting the boxers and T-shirt for coverage, feeling out of her element.
When he emerges, he's wearing an almost identical set to hers. She bites a lip, holding in the newfound amusement.
"What?" he deadpans.
She motions to him, not bothering to explain the bubbling humor inside.
His lips purse together, and he gives her that boyish head-slant of his. "My PJ's didn't get washed from the trip," he explains. He falls into the chair next to her. "No peeking," he demands as he adjusts his groin area.
She locks her eyes on his brow, not daring lower. "That goes double for you, Mister."
An air of annoyance flashes on his face. "You know I'm a gentleman with you."
The words are supposed to reassure, but something in them stings. "I know." She sits straighter, fighting the urge to frown.
He wears one instead. "I see you, Donna. I just respect the boundaries you set."
"I know."
The corner of his mouth curls, his gaze dropping to her barely covered legs. "If you want me to notice, I can."
She squeezes her thighs together, which she instantly regrets because of the friction it causes. She sips her wine instead, speaking into the glass to mask her flush. "I'm not hurting for attention."
"Of that I'm well aware." There's an accusation in his voice, of which she ignores. "And for the record, I know you look at me."
"If you need your ego stroked, I'm sure I can get Natalie in bankruptcy to make heart eyes."
"I don't want Natalie in bankruptcy."
There's an implication hanging in those words. Her eyes widen, probably from shock over the speed of the freight train racing circles in her chest. She recovers, because that doesn't mean he wants her. "We both know you kept me around to complement your good looks. We're both attractive. Since you seem to be craving fuel for your arrogance."
He rolls his eyes, silence resettling. His attention focuses on his fingers spinning the bottom of his glass.
She tries to keep her knees steady, awareness of how close they're sitting, and how if her legs widen a hair her bare knee will brush against his.
"I should've never gone to Stu." His words come out in a rush, as if they'd been locked up for so long they needed to barrel out.
Her lips part, trying to even the breaths she needs to remind herself to stay conscious.
"I guess I just..." He shakes his head, seeming unsatisfied with his direction. "A part of me hoped you'd quickly turn him down. And that would've decided for me."
"How would that have fixed it?" she asks, confused.
His fingers still on his glass. "I could've said I tried," he meets her eyes, "and she would've made the decision for me."
"Passive life decisions?" she offers.
It's pathetic, which is probably why he doesn't respond.
"I have to say, I had no idea you were interested in her." She swallows down the admission with a sip of wine.
He sighs. "Neither did I."
She draws back, brow tightening in confusion.
His fingers tap an erratic beat on the table. "You remember when you told me you wanted more?"
"When I asked to be named partner?"
He shakes his head. "Before that. That night. When you asked me about The Donna patent issue."
She pulls in a breath, and bites her lip. "I remember."
His expression settles, waiting for her to register his meaning.
"Because I said I wanted more?"
He gives her a nod.
"You were afraid I might quit," she clarifies.
"No, that I might lose you. Whatever more meant."
The words stick somewhere inside her, held up only by wet glue ready to slip off and only leave behind a mess. "Why did that equal going to Paula?" she asks, even though she's afraid of the answer.
"Because I guess I panicked, and she was who I was used to panicking with."
"Most people make an appointment," she teases, the implication edged but somehow light.
"Hindsight." He shrugs with a frown, downing the rest of his wine.
"This is why you should come to me with these things. I could've warned you that would end badly."
Words are lingering again. Perhaps because the ones they'd spoken kept getting too close.
The fact that she kept being the reason setting off his bad decisions flipped over in her mind, until the explanations are so overdone she can't make them usable anymore. She's left with knowing she's partially responsible, but not sure why. "I don't want you to keep worrying about losing me, Harvey. Our relationship may change, but we'll always figure out how to find our way back to each other."
The words spill out before she can reshape them. There's a realness to them. A prickly truth. Stuck between them all thorny-edged, making vines with all of their rooted meanings.
"I should...we should get to bed." She picks up the glasses and bottle with a slight tremor in her hands.
He stands with her, taking the wine from her, and setting it down on the counter. They're facing each other, and she can't seem to move her brain fast enough to process. He's taking the glasses from her hand she'd forgotten she was still holding, managing that detail too as he sets them down with a cling. They're too close for her to think, yet not close enough for a building urge inside her.
There's a softness to him now, and it makes her ache. Like he's peeling back layers she's been trying to cover up, opening up uncomfortable old wounds.
"Are you going to be okay without Rachel?" he asks gently.
She shakes her head. "Not really. Are you? With Mike?"
"No," he states with a finality. "I'm probably going to get into a lot more shit than I want to admit would've been better with him here."
She wants to reach for him, but forces her hands in place like she's spent years doing.
"Maybe we can find new ways to help each other through it." His hand reaches for hers, squeezing.
He's at the bed and climbing in before she realizes he's let go, and she's still frozen in place.
She takes the empty spot closest to the window, facing away from him because of the want growing so quickly it may consume her whole.
This isn't about sex alone. In the process of peeling layers away from their issues, she's needing to erase them all with him. Somehow tonight they'd bridged something, but at the same time created a chasm all at once. The vastness feels like a growing tidal wave and she's never owned a board to figure out how to ride it out.
Despite the turmoil, her body is on the drifting edge of consciousness, drained for too many steps beyond the edge. She fades in and out in restless slumber, dreams taking over her troubled thoughts.
Harvey kisses her in front of the elevator bay. But the instant their lips touch, the firm's name fades off the wall and he disappears. She goes to find him, or even Louis, but everything has vanished from the firm. Empty offices and bare walls. Even the views out the windows are just a blinding glow. No New York skyline, no towering over the world's greatest city. She frantically searches, turning every corner and investigating all available space.
Finally she sees Rachel. In the distance. She's wearing her wedding dress. Somehow Donna can feel her. It's like they've become the same person while maintaining two sides of themselves. Rachel is shining love, reaching all corners in the firm. The feeling is so brilliant they begin to cry.
Then the Rachel side begins pulling away. Flying backwards like a bad seventies Sci-Fi special effect but even with the cheesy CGI, it doesn't break the desperation to make the action stop. Suddenly, Rachel's out through the window of Harvey's old office. Body shrinking the further it flies into the clouds. Donna's only able to watch in horror from Harvey's old domain, far off into the distance. There, but growing dimmer until she's nothing but a speck.
Mike is suddenly in front of her, his eyes narrowed and hard. "You did this." But the voice that comes out, isn't his. It's Harvey's.
She wakes with her body shaking in sobs, her emotions so strong it takes her a minute to re-orientate. Tears have formed, but now began to spill, her body unsettled in confusion. The sense of loss mixed with a smorgasbord of fears leaving her jolted. She tries to even her breaths, keeping sobs inside so she doesn't wake him.
He jostles. She stills further. He's moving next to her, then suddenly is grabbing her hand. Nothing is said, but his linked fingers and brushing thumb help settle the way her heart is pounding.
He pulls her hand, coaxing her to turn. They're on their sides, half a foot apart, concern on his face and wetness surrounding her eyes, a panic still setting a rhythm in her chest. The corners of his lips pull down, a certainty set in his eyes. It's a silent version of one of those demands he gives. Let me take care of this.
Suddenly he pulls her in close. Her head tucks under his chin, her nose and mouth against the bare skin of his throat that smells like woody aftershave and him. His upper leg hooks hers to pull them even closer. She loses herself in it. More than she had when he was behind her earlier. His arms feel so comforting, so right, it's like he's taken every single trouble she'd been carrying and plucked them from her shoulders one by one, and tossed them aside until he was carrying only her. They're home, and all alone except for each other.
For the first time she can remember in years, she let's everything go with him. All empties out. Fear. Reservation. Pain. She can almost sense an exchange from him too. Sharing and combining; accepting and giving in.
They stay that way until the race inside has subsided, and when she finally pulls back, the thin light of the room exposes the most regretful and raw expression she's ever seen from him. Her heart lurches, leaving an empty wound where it's home was left behind. Fingers brush hair from her face, while his thumb from his other hand wipes tears. His focus on her is so intense heat rises to her face.
This is too intimate for them. No barriers, at least not the unbreakable ones.
"What are we doing?" she asks.
His mouth moves and he swallows, gaze tracing her face. "We're comforting each other."
"We don't..." she starts to look away but his thumb catches her chin.
"Why were you so upset?"
"It was nothing. Just a bad dream."
"About Mike and Rachel?"
Pillow talk? But his leg is hooked behind hers, with fingers tangled in her hair, so who's keeping track of screwed up boundaries anyway? "Yes. And the firm."
He acknowledges with a soft nod, eyes still not leaving her face.
I'm trying. That's what he'd said to her a few minutes ago. And it hurts to admit she feels its truth because losing what it means to her could rip her apart. But she knows him. How hard this is for him. She forces herself to try too. "And the kiss." She pauses, bracing herself for his response.
His bottom lip parts in the slightest way, and then he waits. No stopping her from elaborating. No protests. No halting further conversation with a Donna.
"It was all over the place and bizarre. Then your voice told me I had caused it. That I was responsible."
A crease forms at his brow and he sighs, body tensing while it shifts. He stares at her, the way he does before he's deciding his next move.
"Donna, I need to ask you something. And I need you to be honest when you answer."
She swallows, feeling like she's about to fall headfirst into icy waters.
"Did you really not feel anything?"
Despite the vagueness, she knows what he's asking. His question carries so much defeat, so much heavy turmoil she almost can't weather how raw this feels. She breaks their gaze.
"Please, Donna. Tell me. Don't hide."
She complies, not looking away because somehow her feelings for this man makes her want to give this to him. But not the rest. "I don't feel like I can answer that after the way you reacted." Because she'd promised him they'd never be here again. Because holding it in for so long has made it stick extra tight.
His lips press together, a fidgeting irritation about him. "Fine. I did."
"Physically," she amends.
"No. I mean yes. But I couldn't..." His cheek pulls in, like he's fighting an admission. Then a hardness sets. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since you did it." There's an air of annoyance in his admission that's so him it almost makes her giggle.
Something inside soars, long wedged in so tightly it almost carries her away when it breaks free.
"So. Can I try it again and help you figure it out?" he demands.
She thinks she finds it in herself to nod, but her focus is too distracted by his tongue darting over his lips before they press into hers. The kiss is less desperate than hers had been, but quickly turns more sensual. Tongue coaxing her lips to part, mouths tasting of shared wine and hints of champagne. An exchange passes between them, a determination to drag their hidden wants and tangle them together. He sucks in a breath before going deeper, searching her mouth. His palm slips down her arm to splay at her lower back, trying to pull them more flush. She hooks her leg over his, and he groans, his want pressing into her thigh.
She needs him. More intensely than she's ever needed him before. Not his law expertise. Not his distant companionship. His physicality. His strength rolled over pain, his intensity that seems to focus sharpest on her.
A whimper escapes when his mouth is hot against her neck, causing a building spin of her own to hit her belly. She reaches under his T-shirt, the new freedom making her greedy with desire to feel his naked skin.
He pulls his head back. "Feeling anything?" he teases, his own voice breathless and rough.
"Annoyed that you stopped." She tries to reposition her leg over his, attempting to get him closer.
He hooks a hand behind her thigh and pulls them upright, coaxing her legs around his body. He pulls her arms to willingly hook around his neck and she shifts herself until he hits against where she needs him most.
"Fuck, Donna." Hungry eyes go to her lips were his mouth returns. He rests hands on her hips, coaxing her closer. "I want you."
She raises a brow. "I can tell." She grinds against him, aware of how the looseness of the bottoms on her and the opening on him could make this happen quickly.
He groans before sucking her lower lip, dragging teeth and soothing with his tongue. Fingers tangle in her hair to tilt her head. He loses himself in her mouth, causing tingles and weakness over stolen control in response to her cheeky reply.
He pulls back suddenly, chest heaving as he trails his gaze chest to face. His fingers hook under the T-shirt he'd given her, peeling it up over her head as her chest spills out. His eyes hood, trailing back to her face. A hand slips down her hair. "You're beautiful tonight."
"Just tonight?" she chances, helping him pull off his shirt.
"No. You have no idea what you do to me."
Freed hands find the bare skin of her back, caressing her spine then pulling her against him, nipples pressing into the warm strength of his chest. She alternates fingernail and fingertip paths over the shifting muscles of his back. Lips find her neck, nipping and smoothing warm tongue over her collarbone.
Her fingers tug into his hair, his mouth venturing lower and pulling in a nipple. She wants this, all of this. But as tonight had taught her, time is an always shifting chase, and she doesn't want to wait for what they've finally caught. "Harvey?"
He raises up to read her, the exchange passing between the emotional press of her lips.
It's time. She needs him. They need each other.
SUITS
His face suddenly changes. "Shit. I didn't come prepared for this. Are you...?"
"I'm covered." Thank god for auto-refill birth control. "If everything is...?"
He confirms with a nod, an endearing nervousness about him she hasn't seen for a long time. It reminds her of how long they've been side-by-side. Of how much trust resides between them.
Their mouths fuse again, this time hot and purposeful. He's pulling her closer with each slip of his tongue against hers, mimicking what they've both held back from for so long. Lust grips her, brewing low in her belly and spreading into her legs.
He supports her back while he eases her off his lap, leaning her against the mattress. Fingers hook under the waist of her bottoms, which she assists in removal by lifting her hips. He takes her in, sweeping his eyes over bare and open skin. Desire eclipses in his eyes, the darkness in them setting off long held in emotions.
Eyes zero in between her legs, his fingertips teasing her slit before dipping between them. She can feel she's already embarrassingly slick. Her hips keen when a thumb brushes her clit. He's focused on her facial response, ocular moth to her climbing internal flame. A finger slips inside, his eyes hooding. "God you're ready."
"More than."
His head hovers between her legs. "May I?" he asks with a smirk.
"Later, Harvey. We've waited too long already." As much as she wants the expertise of his lips and tongue, she needs him close. With her in every form, them against the rest in the most undeniable way.
He swallows and nods, slipping off the bed to remove his own boxers.
There's something glorious seeing all of him. They'd been together through many kinds of triumph and tension. None were this terrifying, none were risking as much as they were about to. She pulls in a shaky breath, trying to settle the building nerves.
He climbs over her, her legs falling apart to accept him. They kiss, softer this time. Reassuring. When they separate, she sees the emotion has built in his eyes too.
She helps him adjust positioning. And then they join. Despite her readiness, she almost rethinks cutting back their foreplay when he pierces inside. He groans against her, a quick intake of breath pulling in. The sharp ache from the intrusion is welcomed but shocking.
"Okay?" he asks.
"It's been a while," she admits. "Just start slow."
He kisses her neck while inching deeper. Her moans fill them room, his own getting swallowed against her neck in each advance. She coaxes his speed as she adjusts, fingers gripping his back, and legs wrapping around him in encouragement.
Her body had begun responding faster and stronger sometime after the age of 40, but she feels the building pressure climbing alongside his speed in record time. He's devouring her neck now, taking breaks to alternate nipples, and sporadic visits to her lips. She swears she could come from the ministrations against her neck alone. The things he could do with his mouth had not been forgotten, but hard to mentally experience to the fullest.
He reaches a hand down to assist in her climb. He's good at this, better than most at setting a pace with his multitasking. Her orgasm soon hits hard and quick, an overwhelming grip down low, making the world and any awareness fade behind blurry stars. He speed has slowed a touch as she subsides, watching her with a pleased curve of his mouth. A shyness takes over, not used to him being the one to witness her uncontrolled display.
"Your turn," she says with a breathlessness, her legs still shaking. His eyes shut at the permission, his thrusts becoming deeper in her now aching core. She focuses on him now, nails dragging into his hair and down his back, head raising up to suck at his shoulders and neck. She lifts hips to meet each thrust.
His movements grow erratic. Sweat is appearing in beads all over his upper body. Then, he loses himself in her. Groaning, grunting, eyes tightly shut.
She's seen him at his most vulnerable. Controlled but lost, and barely holding the mask in place. This is all of him letting go. Brow fully drawn in, flushed face, and throbbing temples. He's completely undone with them having used each other in the ultimate comfort.
She feels euphoric. Consummated. Like something long awaited had finally arrived. They'd taken each other's pain, the reverberation in the connection as instinctual as push and pull. Funny how they'd always thought the latter was easier.
His body is hot and heavy against hers as he rests, spent and still inside her. Soon he falls to the side and starts to get up.
She grabs his hand, brow knitted together.
He flashes a reassuring smile. "Just getting something to clean up." He returns quickly with a wet washcloth, taking pleased interest as he uses care with it between her legs.
SUITS
He settles next to her, immediately pulling her to spoon against his side. She rests her head against his chest, lips and hands taking advantage of the newfound freedom to explore. Tongue slides against stubble on his chin, taking turns nipping and biting against the coarse skin. Her hands map various destinations. Sinews and valleys, soft and warmth against strength. The need pulls to reintroduce herself to every part of him, knowing how empty she'd feel living without it again.
A kiss presses to the top of her head. "You know what I just realized?"
"What?"
"Mike and Rachel are going to be insufferable when they find out about this."
Her eyes widen. "Oh god. You're right. Rachel's going to be giddy. Practically gleeful. I'm going to have to answer some intimate questions."
"Exactly how intimate?"
She grins at the way his body tightens. "Trust me. You don't want to know."
"Do I...measure up?" he asks, and she swears she hears a hint of amusement buried behind the question, making her almost wonder if he knows more than she realizes.
She thinks beyond his satisfying size, focusing more on the expertise of his mouth and tongue. "I'm...going to need some more samples to get an accurate assessment."
"How nice for you," he says with a petulant annoyance. "I'm just going to get fucking roasted."
"If you can't take it I can tell Rachel you need him to go easy on you."
"Seriously?" He pulls out from under her, a danger brewing behind his eyes as he props himself on an elbow. "You're wanting me to prove how useful I can be so you can brag to your BFF? All while Mike, his new wife, and my new girlfriend all mock me. Why am I the one getting all the shit?"
Her eyes go wide. "Calm down. You know I can't resist poking fun at you."
His expression shifts, a grin growing wide as he waggles his brow, biting his lip and darting his eyes low. "I'm the one who now does the poking." He slips a hand down, causing a gasp when he finds her center. He continues his play, a laziness in it, their conversation almost slipping from her mind.
"Harvey?" she manages between staggered breaths.
"What?" he slows his fingers, watching her face.
"Girlfriend?"
He tilts his head. "After as long as we waited? As you know, I don't let go of you well." He curves his fingers for a final time, her dismantling in gentler waves than the first go round. The fingers of his free hand smooth her hair, then trace her cheeks while she settles. He pulls his other hand away, fingers slipping between his lips while watching her.
She smiles shyly, feeling girlish and heady with romance in an embarrassing way she can't fully temper. A thought crosses her mind. "Maybe that's one good thing about them leaving. We won't see their reactions. And cell phones are easy to turn off."
He stares at her, cogs turning. "Why don't we keep it just for us for a while?"
"Really?"
"We need to figure out our own feelings before we deal with everyone else's over it."
She nods, his use of the word feelings in regards to her still sounding so strange. This feels like a dream-like bubble, one she's not ready to share yet. The newness is theirs, and she's still settling in to let go of doubts. Not to mention figuring out this new and improved communication. "So. No regrets?" she chances.
His mouth opens and closes, mischief behind his lips. "Besides wishing I could've watched the dress fall off of you earlier?"
"I could put it back on."
A finger catches her chin, as he leans in to press a kiss to her lips. "Not a chance. I'm not letting you get dressed for as long as I can manage."
"We're really doing this," she states, realizing how shocking the reality still feels.
"Donna. We should've done this a long time ago."
She presses her head back deeper into the pillow, still a whirlwind of nerves and unanswered questions.
He leans over her, hovering just above her face with a seriousness. "So, just so we're clear. Because I don't want you backtracking. You're feeling something, right?"
"No, Harvey. I'm feeling everything."
More A/N's(annoying notes?): Thank you to Elle for the peptalk. I think I worked a full weeks work of hours for this fic. It was emotional and hard but I'm hoping the time put in was worth it! I love these two, along with the other Suits leads, and wanted nothing more than to do this justice and make it a love letter to fellow fans(who I also love). If you can review, as always, it means the world to me. Thank you so much for reading. ~K