Work Text:
Mr. Specter
Tonight. 11 o’clock.
Mike
I thought I was coming over tomorrow?
Mr. Specter
Plans changed. Be there.
Mike
I’m busy tonight
Mr. Specter
No, you’re not.
Mike stares at the messages, raw panic clawing from deep in his chest, all the way up to his throat.
“What is it?” Trevor mumbles from the floor, wispy marijuana smoke curling from between his teeth. His fingernails scrape over the cloudy glass bong sitting on his chest. “You’re making that…that face.”
Mike swallows and stuffs his phone in his pocket, not before glancing at the time. 10:43 pm. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Now he’s high as a kite, and Harvey is going to kill him.
“Miiiiike,” Trevor sings.
“I…I’ve gotta go,” Mike stammers, standing up fast. His vision swims. His heart slams like a drum in his chest. His skin itches.
“What? Why?” Trevor fumbles himself into a sitting position, blinking blearily up at Mike’s swaying form. “We were supposed to finish watching this.”
Mike glances absentmindedly at the TV screen, where an episode of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles plays on mute. “We weren’t even watching, man. But hey - I’ll see you later.”
“Seriously, where are you going?”
Mike shrugs on his jacket, grabs his helmet and bike from where it’s tilted against the wall. “Sorry, Trev. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Is it a booty call?”
Mike doesn’t answer. He pushes through the door of his apartment, leaving Trevor behind, his body thrumming with dread.
Harvey’s going to flay him alive. Fuck.
-
Mike is five minutes late when Harvey opens the door.
Dark eyes take him in. Harvey frowns, the fingers of one hand working to undo his own tie.
Mike averts his eyes. “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t exactly-”
“Shut up and get your ass in here,” Harvey interrupts smoothly.
Mike leaves his bike and helmet outside the door and steps past the threshold, keeping his eyes low, hands fidgeting.
The door closes behind him, sealing him in with a resounding slam and lock. Mike’s absolutely buzzing. His gaze flicks over the floor to ceiling windows like they’ll give him a way out. The city lights blur into a hazy mixture of yellow, blue, dirty white.
“Mike.”
“Yeah,” Mike replies weakly.
“Turn around.”
He hesitates.
Harvey sighs. “Now.”
Mike turns, fingernails digging into his palms. His eyes start to water. “I-”
“Quiet.” Harvey steps closer, loosened tie hanging from one hand. His bare feet are whispers against the pristine floor. “Eyes up.”
Mike bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes iron. He lifts his gaze until he meets Harvey’s sharp, brilliant, brown eyes, and forces himself not to look away.
Harvey blinks once. Twice. Then his frown deepens. “One simple rule, Mike. Is it really that hard for you?”
Mike looks away.
“I didn’t say you could do that,” Harvey snaps.
Mike raises his eyes again. He’s trembling now, barely perceptible, but he can feel it. Fear. Shame. Anticipation. All simmering deep under the surface. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” Harvey says. He reaches out and grabs Mike by the upper arm, yanking him in.
Mike flinches but doesn’t pull away.
“You’re high. I explicitly told you that’s against the rules.”
Mike clenches his jaw. “Yeah, but-”
“Do you really wanna keep talking?” Harvey murmurs, fingers digging bruises into Mike’s arm.
Mike shuts his mouth. Swallows. Then he shakes his head no.
Harvey’s grip relaxes, then he withdraws his hand altogether. He nods slowly. “That’s what I thought.” He drags a tired hand down his face, turns around for a few seconds, then turns back.
Mike can feel his eyes boring burning holes into him. He drops his gaze again, and this time, Harvey doesn’t chastise him. His jaw strains with how tightly he’s clenching it.
“I’m now under the unfortunate assumption that you’ve been getting high between our sessions - ever since I stopped giving you drug tests,” Harvey says slowly, sharp and relentless. “Is that right?”
Mike opens his mouth-
“No speaking. I don’t want to hear your voice right now - and if I do, I’ll make you regret it,” Harvey warns. “Nod or shake your head.”
Mike’s mouth clamps shut. His face burns.
“It’s a simple yes or no question,” Harvey says, voice rising. “Have you been intentionally disobeying me - smoking pot when you think you can get away with it? And don’t even think about lying to me.”
Mike swallows thickly. He nods, once.
Harvey lets out a breath. “Okay. Honesty. I can work with that.”
Mike raises his head, making eye contact. “You-”
“Did I say you could speak?” Harvey’s voice cuts, dark and dangerous.
Mike steels himself, frustration bubbling up. “This isn’t fair, Harvey,” he pleads. “I do everything else-”
Harvey steps forward, slowly. There’s a glint in his eyes now. His eyebrows are raised, almost in surprise.
Mike’s voice falters, then dies in his throat.
“What did you call me?” Harvey asks quietly.
Mike’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, sir - it was an accident.”
“Was it, now? Because, to me, Mike…you’ve been screwing up all night. Almost like you’re asking for punishment.”
Ugly, raw panic comes alive in Mike’s chest. His breath quickens. “No - no, Mr. Specter, I promise, that’s not been my intention-”
“When you signed the contract,” Harvey smoothly interrupts, “you read over the details, did you not?”
Mike clamps his mouth shut and nods.
“I pay for your granny’s nursing home and medical bills. In return, you come when I call, you stop smoking pot, you stop drinking, and you subject yourself to whatever punishment I deem fit. Otherwise, I withdraw my funds, and you’re on your own.” His voice is soft now. Condescending. Superior.
“I didn’t think-”
“That’s right, you didn’t think,” Harvey interjects. “And now, you’ll pay for it.”
Frustrated tears spring to Mike’s eyes. He turns away, scrubbing at them with the back of his wrist. It’s all true. Over two months ago now, he stumbled into an interview with Harvey, carrying a briefcase full of pot.
The sexual tension between Mike and Mr. Specter was palpable, even sitting on opposite sides of a desk. Mike thought he was the only one captivated by the other whilst stammering through his interest in working at Pearson Hardman.
Harvey revealed nothing, giving smooth, challenging answers, and occasional flickers of accidental amazement. He asked Mike why he needed the money. Mike told him about his grandmother.
Harvey laughed it off at first, disbelieving. But a few days later, Mike got a call from an unknown number while he was out making deliveries. It was Harvey, and he had a deal for him. A deal that simultaneously saved and screwed Mike. A deal he can’t walk away from while his grandmother is alive.
And now, he’s at Harvey Specter’s beck and call.
“Well - fuck you,” Mike spits out, in a haze of marijuana and panic and anger. Silence settles in the aftermath, and his heart thunders harder, clawing up his throat. Instead of balking, he digs his heels in. “You - you should’ve given me a heads up, asshole. I have a life too!”
“Is that what you call it?” Harvey chuckles, stepping forward. He tilts his head, an amused grin spreading over his handsome face.
Mike takes a step back, eyes wide.
“Your life is working a dead end job for scraps, smoking pot with your loser friend, and whoring yourself out for money. I’d beg to differ, Mike.”
Mike sees red. He steps forward, body stiff with anger. He shoves hard at Harvey’s solid chest. “You’re the one fucking paying for my ass like I’m a hooker - you’re the loser, you creep.”
Harvey stares at him. “You think you’re not a hooker? You agreed to the deal, Mike. So don’t victimize yourself, and don’t you fucking blame me for what you’ve done to your life.”
Mike swings.
Harvey just chuckles and tries to duck - knuckles scrape over his cheekbone - then he grabs Mike’s arm, twists it behind him, and shoves him facefirst against one of the floor to ceiling windows.
Mike grunts, face smearing glass. “Fuck - get the fuck off me!”
“That’s not how this works,” Harvey murmurs, pressing his front against Mike’s back. He twists Mike’s arm up higher.
Mike gasps. He presses his free hand against the glass, trying to push off. His shoes squeak against the floor. “Ugh-”
“Stop fighting,” Harvey says calmly. “Stop.”
Mike’s breath hitches in his throat, each exhale a shuddering rasp of air. His arm aches and burns in Harvey’s tight grip. The heat of Mr. Specter bleeds into his back, warming him from the outside in. His skin burns with embarrassment and suffocating want.
Finally, he sags in Harvey’s grasp, the fight draining out of him.
“Good boy,” Harvey says stiffly. He releases Mike’s arm and steps back.
Mike watches his distorted reflection in the glass.
“I was hoping for a relaxing night. Get my rocks off, go to sleep.” Harvey shakes his head, eyes trained on Mike’s back, his own body a hard line of disappointment. “But you’ve proven that you need discipline.”
Mike hangs his head, defeated.
Harvey snaps his fingers at him. “Put your shoes in the entryway. Then strip and meet me in the lounge.”
Mike hesitates.
“Is that how you want to play this? Do it now, Mike.”
Mike stiffly obeys, ears roaring. His arm twinges as he shrugs out of his jacket and pulls off his shoes, socks, pants, boxers. Once he’s naked in the entryway, he glares down at his bare skin. More tears cloud his vision. He roughly scrubs them away, and walks slowly toward the lounge.
Harvey’s waiting for him on the wrap around sofa, leaning back with a crystal glass of dark liquor, shirtless, eyes glittering in anticipation.
Mike knows he loves this. Watching Mike debase himself and drown in shame. Feeling powerful, superior, owning every sound Mike makes, every motion of his body, every breath.
And Mike hates himself for getting hot over it.
He stops in front of Harvey, skin flushed, wary of the windows surrounding the lounge. This is exactly where Harvey wants him. Anyone from the surrounding high rises could see him if they were paying attention. People could be watching them right now.
But Mike can’t say no.
Seconds of silence pass. The ice in Harvey’s glass clinks as he takes a swallow. Mike’s heartbeat pulses in his fingertips. His skin thrums.
He lowers his eyes to meet Harvey’s burning gaze, then he starts to kneel-
“Before you do that,” Harvey interrupts, the picture of relaxation. “Tell me what you did wrong.”
Mike swallows, his eyes falling shut. He can hardly stand it.
“Eyes on me,” Harvey instructs.
Mike obeys, lower lip starting to tremble. He digs his teeth in, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay. He’s screwed. “I…I smoked pot.”
Harvey takes another sip, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. The scrape on his cheekbone is red and angry. “Mhmm.”
“I’m sorry.” Mike shakes his head, blinking as his eyes start to water. “Okay? I’m-”
“Enough with the theatrics,” Harvey interrupts, his tone bored. “What else?”
Mike wracks his brain, still hazy from smoking. “I…swore at you, and insulted you…I was late…”
“Keep going.”
“And I spoke when you told me not to.”
Harvey lifts his glass with a smirk. “Quite the rap sheet, kid. You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”
Mike swallows, vision swimming as his eyes fill. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, tell me what you are. Loud and clear. No, don’t look away, Mike. Eyes on me.”
Mike tries to control his trembling. He really does. “I’m a - I’m a dirty bitch,” he chokes out.
“And what do you deserve?”
“To be punished.”
Harvey puts his drink down, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Is that right? Get on your knees then, dirty bitch, and I’ll give you what you want.”
Mike drops down between Harvey’s spread knees, just the way he likes it. His hands land tentatively on the tops of Harvey’s thighs, smoothing over the material of his sweatpants. He doesn’t realize a tear falls until Harvey brushes it away tenderly.
“You did this to yourself, puppy,” Harvey murmurs. “I gave you simple rules, and you broke them. Do you understand?”
Mike blinks, and another tear falls. He feels blown apart and miserable like this. But his dick is still twitching pathetically between his legs. He nods slowly.
“Good boy. Now stay there and behave while I finish this drink, and then we’ll begin.”
Mike drops his eyes to the visible part of the sofa between Harvey’s legs.
Harvey sighs. “How many times do I have to say it, Mike?”
Mike’s eyes dart back up.
Harvey nods approvingly. “That’s it. Don’t look away again.” He takes another sip, seeming to think for a second. Then he says it. “Slut.”
Mike swallows a whimper, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. His fingers curl over Harvey’s thighs, and he starts to draw his arms away.
Harvey shakes his head. “Nope.”
Mike stills. His hands curl into fists, nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms.
Harvey’s gaze wanders over Mike’s flushed, naked body. Every place he looks burns, leaving a trail of fire. When he leans forward to get an eyeful of the situation between Mike’s legs, Mike has to force himself to keep his eyes on Harvey’s face. He knows his dick is fully hard now. He can feel it pulsing, desire burning painfully through his blood.
He wasn’t like this before he met Mr. Specter. Within the course of two months, this is what Mike has become. What Harvey has turned him into. A masochist.
Harvey would tell him that it’s what he’s always been. That he’s in denial. But Mike isn’t so sure. He feels like he’s being shaped and molded by every encounter with this man.
Harvey leans back with a satisfied grunt. “Jesus, puppy. You really are desperate for it.”
“Please,” Mike groans, eyes squeezing shut in his humiliation. It’s too much. It’s always too much.
When he opens his eyes again, Harvey isn’t even looking at him, eyes on the dregs of his drink. But his foot grazes Mike’s rock hard cock, almost casual.
Mike’s entire body jerks, and he swallows a yelp.
The bottom of Harvey’s foot is callused and cool to the touch, contrasting with the hot, tight skin of Mike’s straining cock. Harvey presses harder, pinning it against Mike’s flat stomach.
Mike leans away, nails digging into Harvey’s thighs-
“No. Sit still, puppy,” Harvey barks.
Mike whimpers when Harvey’s toes drag over the head of his leaking cock. His breath comes out in strained panting, thighs trembling with the effort it takes to stay still.
Harvey presses hard enough to hurt, and Mike tears his eyes away from Harvey’s face to look down at what’s being done to him. He pulls his hands away-
-but Harvey catches him by the wrists, sitting up fully, empty crystal glass abandoned.
“Stop, stop, please,” Mike moans, face screwing up from the potent mixture of pain and pleasure. “I can’t-”
Harvey squeezes Mike’s wrists until he gasps. “When I say sit, you stay,” he says firmly, eyes searching Mike’s flushed, wet face. “Look at you. We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already whimpering like a bitch in heat.”
The effects of the marijuana are backfiring now. The overwhelming, suffocating layer of relaxation at his apartment has switched into an overwhelming, suffocating layer of heart wrenching panic, fading in and out, snapping him in and out of his body. It’s a nightmare.
“Please, I can’t do this!” Mike cries. “Just let me go, I’ll come back tomorro-”
“Shut up,” Harvey snaps, slapping him hard across the face.
Mike’s head whips to the side. He blinks, wide-eyed, chest heaving.
“Negotiations were never part of our contract, and I’m getting tired of your lip. You brought this on your damn self.” He lets go of Mike’s wrist and grabs him by the nape of his neck. “Now get up. Get up.”