Harvey came to consciousness slowly. It wasn’t long before he realized every part of him hurt. He attempted to open his eyes, to find out what kind of mess he had gotten himself into this time, but the blinding light and even more blinding pain had him shutting them again quickly.
In the millisecond his eyes were open, Harvey determined he was at least home in his own bed. The fact that he was naked and his muscles felt used…, well that was something he would think about later. Much later. Like after he sleeps off the whopper of a hangover he was having.
“I won,” came a pained voice.
The words, though muffled, caught Harvey off guard. Crap, there was someone else here. It took him a moment to realize that it was Mike’s voice he heard. Just what the fuck happened last night?
“Must you be so loud?” Harvey gritted out while he tried to convince his stomach against emptying its contents.
“I am not being loud. I can be loud. In fact, I am sure you heard me be loud last night. Or was it this morning??” Mike pondered.
“Stop. Talking,” Harvey spat out.
“It’s not as if you are any condition to do anything about it,” Mike countered.
“Don’t think I still can’t kick your ass.
“Right now, I bet you can barely move. I think I’ll take my chances,” Mike sassed from somewhere in the room.
Harvey lifted his head, intent on getting up in an …and immediately regretted it. The room tilted sideways and once again, his head landed back on the pillow.
“Just how much did I drink last night?” he asked, avoiding the real question trying to burrow its way through his brain.
“Not as much as me. Hence I won.”
The night came flooding back to Harvey. They were sitting in Harvey’s office trying to work out their most likely appeal. Their star witness fell apart spectacularly on the stand and Harvey knew the case wouldn’t go his way. When he heard the news that they had somehow still managed to win, he thought for sure that Jessica was prank calling him. Feeling like he had really just stolen the win, Harvey invited everyone out for drinks. Being that he won against all odds, he invited Louis as well. No reason not to gloat he determined at the time. One drink turned to more than one or two or three, which turned into Mike shooting off his mouth to anyone who would listen that he could outdrink anyone. And Harvey, well Harvey loved proving people wrong. Mike was what, 180 soaking wet? Harvey should’ve been able to finish him before he even reached his stride. But like every other time he underestimated the mad genius, Mike managed to surprise him.
Two hours later, Harvey’s tongue felt thick and his words were slow, but Mike didn’t seem to be affected. He just kept on talking and drinking. By the time the bar closed, everyone else had been poured into a cab leaving Mike and Harvey alone still verbally sparring.
“You ready to give up, old man?”
“Who you calling old?” Harvey countered.
“Surely you don’t think you could drink more?” Mike asked, surprise lacing his words.
“Is this your way of punking out and giving up? Because if it is, I will gladly accept your surrender,” Harvey gloated smugly.
“Who said anything about surrendering? How about we take this someplace else? Like your condo. That way you can fall into bed when I am done taking you down.”
And just like that, everything changed. In the blink of an eye, what started off as a simple who could outdo who, morphed into something more complicated, more dangerous. Harvey licked his lips instinctively and paused. They were standing close; too close. Harvey could see Mike’s dilated pupils, feel the heat of Mike’s stare as he waited for an answer. He briefly wondered if he should call it a tie and walk away, but the alcohol sloshing through his brain made him bold, made him careless. Why else would he play truth or dare with the one man who reminded him every day of what he desired most, but couldn’t (more like shouldn’t) have? Mike was truly his greatest temptation.
“We will see who is falling over. Follow me,” Harvey uttered.
The next thing Harvey remembered was the taste of his favorite whiskey on Mike’s lips. How Mike had looked at him, his eyes hooded and laced with desire. Harvey never once believed Mike would look at him that way. What happened after that was a blur of sensation. Mike’s hands on his skin as he ‘helped’ Harvey get undressed; the sweet friction they created when they slid their cocks together and the way Mike had writhed beneath him as Harvey thrust into his tight heat over and over. The last thing Harvey’s brain managed to hold onto was the sound of his own name being shouted from Mike’s lips before falling into his own oblivion.
“Fuck…,” Harvey groaned. He stretched out his arm in search of Mike but found the other side of the bed empty.
“Down here,” came Mike’s strained answer.
Harvey maneuvered to the edge of the bed slowly; very slowly and peered over.
Mike was lying on the floor, his face shoved into the carpet. He also happened to be completely naked.
“What the hell are you doing down there?” Harvey managed to croak out, his eyes glued to Mike’s pert ass staring up at him like an invitation.
Mike moved like a statue coming to life, slow and awkwardly. Within minutes, or hours, Harvey was looking into Mike’s bloodshot eyes.
“I don’t think getting shitfaced, fucking your boss, then falling out of bed constitutes winning.”
A look of hurt crossed Mike’s features.
“I think repeating it sober a few more times might though.”
