A/N: So this is my very first collaboration. Sam (swancharmings) and I had the best time writing it. (As she said herself, 'We birthed this, three days in labor but with an epidural because there was no pain.') Please let us know what you think :)

a swiftly tilting cactus

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Harvey grabs her arm as she passes by and the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Technically, we don't work together until tomorrow…"

Her eyes widen and her heart rate picks up when she realizes where he's going with this.

"Harvey, this is a terrible idea," she warns, but he doesn't miss the way her pupils dilate.

"Why?" he dares her.

The situation takes her back several months and she can't help but mirror the words he'd uttered before he told her he loved her, before he left her; which ultimately led to her leaving him.

"You know why," she replies, giving him a look. This is not them, they don't cross lines no matter how blurry they are.

"Maybe that's exactly why we should," he counters.

Donna feels dizzy just from the suggestion alone, like she can't catch her breath, but she also can't bring herself to leave now, not with the way Harvey is looking back at her.

They communicate silently, intimately, until any remaining resistance fades away into nothing and they give in to what they have both wanted to happen for far too long.

Are you saying you're coming back to me?

Yes. I am.

Harvey surges forward and claims her lips in one fluid motion. Her mouth opens up on instinct, the intensity of the kiss making her head swim and her knees buckle. The soft, sweet boldness of Harvey's tongue demanding entrance sends every tangible thing around her into a milky haze; the only thing that exists are his lips.

They're greedy, starved, bruising lips and biting skin. Their mouths stay connected as she pushes him down to lie on the couch, her hips gyrating on top of him; he's been hard since her eyes raked over his form when he walked in, her delicate frame poised on his couch, but this is a whole other level.

Donna yanks away to pull up her skirt and push down his pants and he's happy to oblige, because for once he's not thinking and he's glad. He would slow her down but he finds he doesn't want to, and they don't need to, because they've done all the before for far too many years, and this, this is the now.

Wet kisses, hurried shifting and their hands between their bodies aligning the head of his cock with her center, and he presses the tip inside, enough for them to groan in mutual pleasure. Donna settles down on him, encasing him fully and she's so hot and wet and he is convinced this is the best feeling in the world.

Her breasts bounce as she moves, waves of red cascading down her shoulders, firelight dancing off her stomach and her hands are everywhere, tickling his chest, cupping his jaw, threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. Harvey holds her hips like they're his lifeline. Her breath comes in shallow pants, and his body thrums with each thrust, each rise and fall and glimpse of his soaked, glistening shaft disappearing inside her.

She fucks him hard, only that's not what this is. It's a culmination, a promise, a welcome back. It's a realization, a "love me how," a "thank you for twelve years," and an open invitation to forever.

It's all of this and the way she's grinding down on him, wet lips coating his pubic bone as she seeks her own release that causes him to come hard inside her, full and heavy and buzzing. Through the haze his thumb grazes down to help her along but it turns out he doesn't need to as she convulses right along with him.

Neither move as silence suddenly engulfs them. Her weight on his chest feels like home as he plays random notes on her spine, circles her shoulder blade, nuzzles his nose in her hair.

"I meant it," he says then, low and resolute, because he doesn't know what else to say but this seems right.

He feels, rather than hears, her sweet exhale on his neck. "I know."

They breathe together, heart to heart, and they're quiet but it's not stilted or tense; it's serene and natural and it's as if nothing has changed at all, from discussing their uncertain future ten feet apart to softening inside her after mutual release.

"I should go," she whispers then, and his stomach lurches at the familiarity of the words, the distance those nine letters put between them. And for all the reasons she should go, Harvey wants her to stay.

Donna stands up and reaches for her discarded blouse but he is quick to catch her wrist and pull her flush against him.

"Stay," he murmurs on impulse, and because he doesn't want to find out what happens if she doesn't.

She licks her lips. "Harvey," she sighs, but he cuts her off.

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"That you're coming back to me?"

She softens. "Of course I did."

"Will this change that?" He needs to know, swallows against the lump that forms in his throat.

There's a beat before she answers, her eyes holding her promise and something else, something that grips his soul and terrifies him but that also tells him everything he needs to know.

She leans up to kiss him again and wraps her legs around his waist, sealing her answer with her mouth and her hips.

Harvey has every intention of bringing her to the bedroom, he does. But her nails dig into his scalp and she lets out a throaty little moan and suddenly he's placing her on the kitchen island, bumping over the cactus in the process.

"Knew you couldn't keep it alive," she breathes as she takes him in her hand.

His retort dies in his throat as she strokes him and he leans into her touch, craving more already. Everything about her is intoxicating and stimulating tonight and it only further enhances his desire for her instead of satisfying it. With just a few strokes he is right on the brink again and he pushes her hand away.

Harvey is halfway inside her when he presses his brow against the sweat-damp skin of her neck. Donna turns her head to find him gazing up at her. He is biting back a soft, lazy smile that is still largely due to the mind-blowing orgasm Donna just gave him, but beneath the veneer of lust there's something immeasurably tender in Harvey's stare. It momentarily makes Donna forget about the dull throbbing between her legs – instead it sort of takes her breath away.

He finally slips all the way inside when she nudges him closer with the heels of her feet. She is still slick and warm and the intrusion makes her groan. The feeling of him filling every inch of her again causes every synapse to spark and link together, and she's never felt so whole.

There is less frenzy this time but just as much heat and want and need. Harvey traces the freckles on her shoulder with his tongue, and there is very little light to see but he maps them like he has done this a hundred times.

Donna bucks her hips wildly, searching for release and Harvey remembers what she likes. As if he could ever forget. He lifts two fingers to his mouth, wets them generously before trailing them down her breasts and over her abdomen to press against her clit. She cries out and he continues the small, tight circles and deep thrusts until he feels her walls clench around him again and again. She squeezes him in deeper as her orgasm washes over her. It's blinding – hot white pleasure shooting into her fingertips and toes – as Harvey's thrusts become erratic, biting down on her neck as he empties inside her.

It's messy and sticky as he pulls out and they feel the loss of contact immediately, though her legs still trap him against her and his arms are still looped around her neck and tangled in her hair.

They haven't been anything for months now and to suddenly become everything is a shift that neither quite knows how to navigate; and yet, it is also as simple as Donna reaching for the potted plant, setting it upright and teasing him about the neglect it's suffered, and his argument that it's a succulent, Donna, it's just happy if you're there — and there is a double meaning in his statement, one they both catch and the conversation dies as her hands come up to cup his face, stroking his jaw gently.

Her heart is still pounding in her chest, her breath getting caught in her throat, and she suddenly finds herself wishing that this is something she will always get to experience. The realization hits her hard, though it's not necessarily unexpected. These past few months have been about protecting herself, her heart, and they just did a one-eighty within an hour. Her body is still clinging to his while the haze in her mind slowly starts to lift.

Her fingers stop playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck as she tenses.

She seems to be miles away, but Harvey doesn't want her to overthink this, so he grabs her waist, slips her off the counter and puts her securely on the ground, never once letting go of her.

"Will this change that?" she asks him quietly, echoing his earlier question, and she was so sure that it wouldn't but now, after the fact, she needs to hear it from him, too.

Harvey holds her tighter. "No," he tells her, and it's the most certain he's been about anything in his life, and maybe it scares him shitless but if there is one thing these past few months have taught him, it's that he really can't be him without her.

Donna expels a breath she wasn't even aware she'd been holding. "Okay," she nods and looks up at him.

He smiles. "Okay."

Her fingers dance on his back and he's suddenly bone-tired, but he shifts and feels the mess between his legs and tugs on Donna's hand to lead her into the ensuite.

They step under the spray, embracing as the water flows around them, washing away doubts and fears and maybes and the looming prospect of tomorrows.

It's a minute, or maybe several, before they move, Donna turning in his arms to reach for the soap but Harvey has other plans.

He cups her breasts from behind, sliding against her backside deliciously. Donna moans when his fingers tweak her nipples and she relaxes under his ministrations.

He grabs his shower gel and squirts a generous amount into his palm. Her skin is soft under his hands, her body pliant, as he begins his exploration. It's been years since he has felt her warmth and her heartbeat under his hands and yet he remembers it like it was yesterday.

He takes his time appreciating every curve of her body, lathering her in expensive men's wash that is going to make her smell like him and the thought alone drives him crazy. His hands are everywhere; massaging her breasts, cleaning her shoulders and her back, trailing over her stomach; and he presses her body tightly against his front as his tongue traces the shell of her ear as he whispers filthy nothings there.

They still fit together like this.

Being intimate with Donna feels comfortable, like an extension of their connection. It's something they've carried with them for more than a decade, something that belongs to the many blurred lines between them.

So he lathers her, focusing between her legs more so than anywhere else and she weakly warns him he'd better let her actually rinse off, but Harvey's fingers keep strumming and pressing and when he curls them inside her she's lost in him completely.

She's had his cock in her twice tonight, and somehow this holds more intimacy than both those times. His body envelopes her, lips on her ear and her neck as he finger-fucks her and she rides out the high, comes apart at the sound of her name vibrating against her skin.

Her knees almost give in from the onslaught of pleasure that is rippling through her body for the third time tonight. He peppers kisses over her chin, along her jaw, as he continues to work his fingers inside her until she comes down from her high. His other arm steadies her, and he's not entirely sure who's holding onto whom, but he lets them have this moment. The prospect of tomorrow and having to let her go is suddenly looming over them like a dark cloud again.

But then Donna leans back, fits her head against his shoulder, and he knows she's not going anywhere. This is where they're meant to be.

They step out of the shower eventually to dry themselves after having actually rinsed off. "You look like a raccoon," he teases her when she turns around wrapped in a fluffy towel. She shoots him a look and he says, "I could get used to this."

Donna bites her lip. Her hand reaches up to caress Harvey's wet hair and trails down his cheek absently as if she's actually considering his words. She doesn't reply but Harvey swears that there is something stuck in her throat.

Then she stands on her toes to press a kiss to his lips that's as easy as breathing, soft and sweet, and it feels like she is sealing a promise with it; an open invitation to forever.