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Donna likes it best, of course, when she's the center of attention. The boys know it, and they abuse it shamelessly, but she can't really complain when Harvey's nibbling at her neck behind her, big warm hands on her hips while Mike kisses her, cradling her face like a romantic, stopping sometimes to mumble to Harvey about how beautiful she is.
She knew better, before this, before Mike, to let Harvey past her defenses. And Mike alone would never be enough, he's sweet but he has no burn to him. He buffers Harvey, makes the intensity bearable, and she knows she takes the burn Mike doesn't want, leaves the sweetness in Harvey (hidden, buried, but all too present and yearning to get out) to Mike.
Harvey, of course, is just greedy, but that works for them too, and together they keep him interested the way few people ever could alone. He comes apart so nicely when he's inside her and Mike's fucking into him, fucking her through him. Those nights, Harvey's vaunted words fail him and when they sleep, he sleeps deepest.
Donna has toyed with the idea of getting a little of her own back, showing the boys the strap-on she bought for an ex who really liked toppy women, but she has genuine concerns Mike might try to burst into a rendition of Too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor.
She'd like to fuck Harvey while Mike watches. Harvey would focus a little too tightly for her to enjoy him watching. Maybe when the boys are more settled. Donna has all the time in the world to wait for them.
In the meantime, there's something to be said for the way Harvey slides her dress off her shoulders, the way they can almost hold her up without her help.
Mike's all lithe shirtlessness in the dim light of Harvey's bedroom and he's always about now now now. She can tell -- could tell the first time -- that this blows his lovely mind. The idea that the three of them could be equals, that Harvey doesn't dominate completely here like Trevor used to (even if it wasn't sexual then) and that Donna is not the passive ignorant girlfriend...
Well. It's a whole new world for Mike.
He's bent to her breast, gentle with his teeth and tongue while Harvey tips her head back to kiss her -- the angle's not great but if she stretches a little and Harvey takes her weight they can manage. Harvey's arm is around her waist now, fingers dipping under the band of her underwear. He's still fully dressed, the press of his cock through his impeccable pants warm and solid against her ass. His other hand is working Mike's belt open with admirable patience. She thinks Mike might be trying to give Harvey a hand-job, which is adorable.
How these things happen, how one gets from three friends to a threesome, is always a little bit of a mystery to Donna, even if it's not her first time and she knows it's not Harvey's. There's a moment, a sort of hesitant clarity, and then everyone tumbles off the edge together -- that's the only way it ever works when you want it to last. She could have imagined walking in on some passionate illicit kiss in Harvey's office and being invited to join; she could have imagined taking Mike out, showing him a good time and the two of them agreeing Harvey shouldn't be lonely. Harvey has been bone-deep lonely for a long time. But that's not how it happened at all.
It was...it was one of Harvey's ridiculous old records in the background, and a late Tuesday night where she'd stayed because Harvey promised to buy them both dinner if they figured out a workable strategy on a case before midnight -- and anyway Donna had nothing better to do, plus, overtime. Mike on Harvey's couch, sleeves rolled up and tie off, working, Harvey leaning against his desk and reading, Donna with her heels kicked off and feet propped on the desk, leaning back in his chair, going over briefs because you didn't work as a legal secretary for ten years without picking up a few things.
And she'd found something strange.
"I think this is it," she'd said, and showed it to Mike, who let out a whoop and opened one of his own files and presented them both to Harvey. Harvey's lips had curled up in a grin whose smugness was only offset by its sensuality. Suddenly he'd grabbed Donna and danced her backwards, swinging her around to the record music, swaying her through the soul beat until Mike had cut in and dipped her and brought her back up --
And there was Mike, breathless, laughing, inches away; Harvey, behind her, a hand on a hip to steady her. Just a single moment, but it seems like they've been replaying that ever since. The moment when Harvey pressed his face into her hair and said, "You are the most -- amazing -- woman -- " and she'd bent just a little to kiss Mike, her hand on Harvey's over her hip.
"Come home," Harvey had said, then looked up over her shoulder at Mike. "Both of you. Come home."
She might have chickened out -- Mike surely would have -- if Harvey hadn't pulled her half onto his lap in the cab, his hand on Mike's thigh, and proceeded to give the cab driver a show the whole way back to his place.
There was no going back, and she knew that, but it seemed like with Mike to steady them, there might be a going-forward that wouldn't end in darkness.
Mike wants to fuck her tonight, she can tell, but Harvey's going to make him work for it -- when she spreads out on Harvey's bed, Harvey's amazingly great bed, Mike goes to crawl over her and Harvey catches him around the waist, pulls him back mischievously and asks where he thinks he's going.
"What, you want to arm-wrestle?" Mike asks, squirming.
"Say please," Harvey murmurs, and Donna watches them, Mike naked and pinned against Harvey's hips, Harvey still with all his stupid clothes on.
"Please," Mike whines.
"Say please, Donna," Harvey adds.
"P -- please, Donna!"
Mike begs so nicely.
"Baby," Donna says, and Mike flushes. "Baby, let him go."
Mike laughs then, elbows Harvey in the ribs and wriggles away, hitching her thighs around his waist as he kisses her. Harvey settles down on the bed, slouched, his hips about level with her shoulders, hand stroking her hair. She could make out with Mike for hours -- he's a good kisser, and he's better with his hands than most men his age who haven't yet learned a woman doesn't want to be kneaded -- but Mike is also not naturally inclined to foreplay. Harvey flicks a condom at his forehead and Mike blows air through his lips, rolling his eyes.
"Spectating tonight?" Donna asks, looking up at Harvey, and his teeth gleam in the darkness.
"No," he says, and then, "Mike."
Mike, sitting back and ripping open the condom, pauses and looks up. Harvey undoes his fly one-handed, shoves his pants down just enough to get his dick out, slicks his fingers over the head.
Donna nudges into his other hand approvingly. Mike enjoys a challenge, even when he pretends he doesn't.
It takes a little adjustment -- she shifts closer to Harvey, slides one hand down his leg and inches back a little -- but once Mike is inside her, hips canting smooth and slow and barely controlled, it's not hard for him to bend forward. His nose brushes Harvey's vest as he sucks at his cock, slicking up the head.
Harvey, of course, now has one hand on Donna's head, thumb rubbing her temple, and one on Mike's, urging him deeper as he fucks her, skin slapping on skin, her hips rising to meet each of his thrusts. Mike's trying to put his hands everywhere at once and still maintain balance, and when he finally finds his equilibrium it's with one hand between them, thumb bumping against her clit, the other braced on Harvey's thigh.
Donna digs her fingernails into his ass. Mike whimpers and Harvey moans. It's cute how the two of them like to pretend they're ever in charge.
Her orgasm is a long slow roll under Mike's fingers, building incrementally with each thrust of his cock, Harvey's moans loud and remarkably uninhibited, given he hasn't even taken off his tie. Mike pushes her through it, mouth working around Harvey until Harvey thuds hard against the headboard and bucks up, coming silently. Mike leans back, swallows and wipes his mouth, stilling for a moment.
And then of course they tumble him over, Harvey wrestles him onto his back and Donna straddles him, riding him while Harvey pins him, and Mike's whining and begging please, please while Harvey kisses him quiet and Donna comes again, tightens around Mike until he cries out into Harvey's mouth and goes lax, sinking into the bed.
Donna rolls down into the blankets, laughing.
Harvey, still sitting up, looks fondly at the two of them and bats Mike's hand away, taking the condom when he stands and tossing it in the trash somewhere. They can both hear him undress, the click of cufflinks on his dresser, the rasp of his tie, rustle of soft cotton. When he comes back he's in especially fancy pajamas, and she vaguely hopes he wiped his hands before pouring out the two glasses of water he brings with him. She gets one; the boys share the other, Harvey resting it on Mike's chest like a coaster when he's finished until Mike whines that it's cold and makes him move it to the nightstand.
Mike, normally the most tactile of the three, sleeps a little apart by preference, curled on his side facing them. Maybe he's aware he kicks in his sleep sometimes, though usually by morning he's migrated close enough to shove his head against her shoulder or Harvey's neck. She and Harvey tangle up together until it's hard to know where they end or begin, and she'll wake up tomorrow to a faceful of Harvey's bed-head, no doubt. There's a reason he keeps it so slick during the day.
She and Harvey are good at compartmentalizing sex away from work, and Mike -- well, with two against one, Mike knows to behave. So she doesn't worry about that, and really she doesn't worry about people finding out except that it would hurt Harvey. She's too good to be fired for sleeping with the boss and nobody would believe Mike could land them both (everyone always underestimates Mike, but she's seen him naked) but Harvey...it would damage his reputation, and it would damage him. So she doesn't worry. Much.
The thing is, it lasts, and it works, both of which are surprising. Nobody seems to notice or care for a long time, either. At least until a party for the firm, the kind of party where really this whole thing should have started, with alcohol and heated looks and Mike's hand on her ass when he can be sure nobody will see. She's enjoying herself, wedged into a booth with Harvey expansive and relaxed on one side, Mike leaning forward on the other to make some point around her to Harvey -- and then she sees Louis at the bar, watching them.
His eyes narrow, and she can see the oh bitch, no you didn't expression form on his face.
Well, she needs a refill anyway.
She nudges Mike over and he flails a little, stumbling off the seat to let her out. She leans on the bar, asks for another Manhattan, and turns to Louis.
"Neither of them enough for you, huh?" he asks, no preamble, no politesse, just thinly-veiled nastiness with a hint of what the shit? thrown in.
"I prefer to think I'm too much woman for just one man," she replies.
"Maybe you haven't met the right man," he answers.
"You're sweet," she says, patting his cheek. "But I met two of them."
He's about to reply when her fingers tighten just a little, thumb pressing into his cheekbone, index finger curled against his ear and the nail pricking sharply into the tender flesh beneath.
"If you make nasty jokes or tell dirty stories, Louis, or if the word slut passes your lips, they will never find the body," she adds. "Am I clear?"
"Crystal," he grunts. She releases him and he sags a little against the bar. Her drink arrives.
"Seriously, though," he says, before she leaves. "Both of them? Really?"
It's not curious, it's not gossippy even. It's more...incredulous.
"You want me to tell you why?" she asks. He nods. She leans in close. "Too bad I won't, then, isn't it?"
And she puts some swing in her hips as she walks back to her boys, who are looking at her (rightly so) like she's a goddess.
Maybe she'll take them back to her place tonight, make them put on a show for her. Maybe, like they sometimes do, they'll curl up together and sleep. The first time they did that, just slept, Harvey seemed uncertain what to do with himself until Mike, restless little furnace that he is, plastered himself against them both and snored into Harvey's back. Now they do, sometimes, and Harvey seems to like it, sleeps deep and late as long as they're in the bed with him. Donna likes it too, and Mike just plain likes sleep.
Time enough in the morning for sleepy sex, for showers and Harvey's magnificent bedhead and the two of them bickering over who makes her breakfast.
Some things you can't go back from. Some things you wouldn't want to.