Chapter Text
Maru doesn’t look too much the worse for wear the next morning when you make your way to the clinic, but she’s thankful all the same for the coffee and slightly greasy breakfast sandwich you set on the front desk.
“You are a god amongst mortals,” she says with a sigh, gulping down half the coffee in one go and setting to work immediately on the sandwich.
“Considering I’m at least eighty percent to blame for your hangover, you can pass on the praise,” you say, laughing. "Did your feet survive Shane's dancing?"
"Heh. Barely. I've got a wicked bruise on my right foot. Maybe next time I'll try to show him how to soft shoe instead."
"Have you considered a less hazardous endeavor? A nice fusion of white water rafting and open heart surgery, maybe?"
Maru snorts, covering her mouth to try and keep her breakfast in place.
"How’s the Doc?”
“Surprisingly good,” Maru says around a mouthful of egg and bacon and buttered toast. “I guess he doesn’t really get hangovers. Must be nice. You can go on back if you like, there’s no appointments on the books today, it’s just paperwork.” She spreads her hands at the stack of file folders in front of her. “Look upon my workload, ye mighty, and despair.”
“Too much despair," you say, shaking your head distastefully. "Kindly put some back. Clearly you just need to invent a gizmo to do the paperwork for you.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “Yoba, don’t tempt me.”
The hallway to Harvey's office is short. You don’t even get a chance to knock on the door before you hear him call out, “Come in.” A similar stack of file folders sits atop his desk, and he peers at you over the top of it. He is, you note with more than a little delight, already blushing.
“Expecting me?”
He makes a face: equal parts grumpy, flustered, and deeply pleased. “I heard you coming,” he says.
You raise your eyebrows a little, chewing on the inside of your cheeks to try and stop from smiling. A valiant but rather futile effort. One day the man will manage to not trip into a double entendre, but apparently today is not that day.
Harvey stammers, flushing a brilliant red, and rakes a nervous hand through his hair. “I didn't... I didn't mean.... You’re terrible,” he says finally.
“Yes, but I bring gifts,” you say, setting the coffee and sandwich next to him with a ridiculous little flourish. “So hopefully it all balances out.”
He regards you a moment, fiddling with his fountain pen. “I wasn’t sure you... after last night... I…” He sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s been quite awhile. I didn’t know what to expect. I didn't think I'd see you today.”
You look him over, trying to puzzle out the look on his face. Anxiety is not exactly a new look for Harvey, but you’ve never seen it so bound up in something so clearly personal before.
“You don’t regret it, do you?” you ask.
He looks up at you, eyes sharp and brow knotted. “Do you?”
Ah.
“No. Not even a little.” You smile, leaning your hip against the desk. “The only thing I regret is that it didn’t happen sooner.”
“I... oh.” He’s silent for a long beat, blinking up at you. And then he laughs, a bright and bashful smile breaking across his face. “M-me too.”
“Well. Should make up for lost time, then.”
His eyes go wide and startled as you stoop down, taking his face in your hands, and kiss him. And he melts. Completely. The hands he puts on your shoulders are heavy but gentle, drawing you down almost by accident, and you drop smoothly down on one knee. It’s almost jarring how gentle he is for his size - well over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, he’s built more like a linebacker than anything else, but everything about him is soft.
Well. Almost everything.
He breaks away, trying to catch his breath between muttered apologies and scooting the rolling chair awkwardly away. “It’s been a really long time,” he says. “I may be a little over-eager. You-”
The rest is lost to a sharp gasp as you run a single finger down the growing length in his trousers.
“No need to apologize,” you mumble, stroking him lightly. "I'm not exactly complaining."
Harvey, for his part, is barely breathing. “Y-you...I...oh...w-we shouldn’t…”
“Why not?”
He gives a delightful hiss as you squeeze him, growing harder by the second.
“Maru is right down the hall,” he whispers sharply.
You smile, stroking a little more insistently. “You want me to stop?”
His breath catches, hips tilting up toward your hand. “No. Please don't.”
“You’d better keep quiet then.”
A small sound escapes him, low and choked.
Then: “Wait.”
It almost pains you to do it. But you still your hand. And you wait.
“Is…” he frowns, anxiety creasing the inner corners of his eyes. “Is this... all you want? I mean if it is, that, that’s fine," he adds in a quiet rush. "I'm more than happy to... I mean... with you... but I want... I need to know what you want. From me. With me.”
For a moment you're not sure how to answer. In all honesty, you hadn't really thought that far ahead yet. You've thought about him, of what you've wanted to do to him, what you wanted him to do to you. But beyond that... Your own expression softens, and your fingers trace the side of his face. ”No,” you tell him. “I want this. But I think I want more than just this. Is that alright?”
There is another long pause, and then that smile returns, bright and lovely. And this time he’s the one that kisses you.
So maybe it is alright after all.
The buckle of his belt jingles only a little as you work it open, a whisper of a zipper, and then the sweetness of a gasp as you wrap your fingers around his cock. He's just about as long as your hand from wrist to fingertip, and you lose yourself for a bit, preoccupied with the feel of him, hard and hot and velvet soft. And then he thrusts up eagerly into your hand, all impulse and no control, and you have to wonder just how long it has been for him. You remember the taste of him, all too brief from the night before, and at once you make your decision of just what you want to do.
After all, you’re already on your knees.
You watch his face as you shift down lower. The look of surprise is nearly comical, save for the edge of excitement in his eyes and the way he bites his lip when you take him into your mouth. He captures one of your hands, winding his fingers with yours and pressing your palm to his lips and holding it there. He sighs and your skin pricks up in goosebumps at the feel of his breath. He moans, so soft you can barely hear it, but you feel the vibration of it against your palm.
A quiet blowjob is perhaps not the easiest endeavor, but you're the determined sort. And it's worth it. Pleasure looks good on him. He's slumped down, back pressed hard into the chair, hips tipped forward, eyes tracking you hungrily as you move. He shudders - hard - the first taste of salt on your tongue, whispering half-obscene encouragements. Telling you how good you feel. How good you look. How badly he's wanted this - you - for so long now. How it's so much better than he thought it would be.
Good. So good. Deeper. Harder. Oh. There. Oh right there, there, please....
And then his eyes go wide at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.
"Shit."
There isn’t even a presentable closet in the room, and so you settle for what is possibly the most comically cliche hiding place, backing yourself into the knee hole under his desk as he scoots in close, trying desperately to arrange himself back into some semblance of decency.
A knock.
“Doctor Harvey?”
“Yes? What is it?”
You hear the door crack, hinges squeaking. “Marnie called, she wanted to know if she could shift her appointment back to next Thursday?”
“Uh…” There’s a sound of mild panic and paper ruffling. “I’ve uhm...I've got an appointment over in Grampleton that day, but as long as she can come in before 2pm, that should be fine.” To Harvey’s credit, his voice is surprisingly steady. Especially given the view from your perspective, crammed in between his knees, his still-hard cock wavering barely an inch in front of your face, a single droplet of precome dripping slowly down the underside.
“Alright, I’ll set that up. Hey, I thought the farmer was back here?”
Harvey goes alarmingly still. “Oh, she’s upstairs. Still a little hungover, I told her she could use the couch. Probably best to let her rest a bit.”
“Oh, right,” Maru says, pitching her voice a little lower.
You run your tongue out, the temptation a little too much, lapping up the little droplet before it has the chance to stain his trousers. He jerks, nearly kneeing you in the face. “Sorry,” he mutters, coughing harshly. “Legs are a little restless today. If there’s nothing else, I really do need to get back to this paperwork.”
“Oh, yeah, no, that was all. I’ll get the new schedule posted.”
“Thank you, Maru.”
“Actually, I might run over to the Saloon first, get another round of coffee in. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all.”
“If Gus has any of those apple danishes left, I might grab a few those, too. Those were good. Okay, I’ll be back in like...ten minutes?”
The door creaks, closes, Maru’s footsteps growing distant, and then the sound of the front door opening and closing. Harvey lets out a sharp sigh.
“You are-”
You don’t let him finish. Your fingers grip his thighs as you pull him back into your mouth. He yelps, a sharp, startled cry that falls utterly apart as you moan greedily around him. This position is frankly awful, your head nearly knocking against the center drawer, your legs pinned under you. And yet the tension in his thighs and the muffled sharpness of his breathing is too good for you to want to stop just yet.
“Oh. Fuck,” Harvey whimpers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He tries to thrust up toward you, but the position affords him no leverage, and all he can do is roll back and forth a few inches, grinding the head of his cock against the flat of your tongue.
He pulls back on the cusp of his orgasm, rolling away and leaving your mouth with a soft, sudden pop. “You’re going to give me a heart attack,” he pants as you crawl out from under the desk, grinning up at him. His hand wraps instinctively around his cock, pumping slowly.
“Not at all,” you say, watching his hand with rapt interest. “But I have every intention of finishing you.”
He groans low and quiet, jaw flexing, and presses his cock down toward you with his thumb.
“Hurry,” he says, and there’s a pleading edge to his voice that nearly makes your mouth water.
He guides your head down and this time you set to work like you mean it. You feel him catch more than once on your teeth, but it doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. He’s moaning incessantly, long beats of held breath between explosive exhalations and ragged gasps. He cries out, bucking so hard as he comes that you have to hang onto him to keep him from shoving himself away on the rolling chair by accident.
"Don't stop," he moans, shaking through his spasm.
You don't. Not until he stops shaking, until he slumps into the chair in a boneless heap, do you stop. You just barely swallow him down before he’s pulling you up and into a breathless kiss.
“Upstairs,” he says, panting. “Give me half an hour, maybe less. I’ll close up early. I promise I'll take care of you.”
You smile, nodding, and help him with his clothes until he again looks professional instead of debauched. “Half an hour,” you repeat, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be late, or I just might have to start without you.”
"Can't have that, can we?" he says with a lopsided grin, watching as you disappear around the corner.