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Most people don’t realize it, but Harvey Specter is fucking begging to be put down. That mantle of self control must weigh tons…heavy is the head, and all that. Other people are fooled by the power suits and the perfect hair and the snarky demeanor, but not Mike. Mike notices.Mike sees through the bullshit bravado and into the man beneath. A man crying out for attention, for something real, but most of all, for the opportunity to relinquish the load. Mike knows this, and he’s willing to give it to him. One night when they’re alone at Pearson Hardman, Mike sees the opening. And Harvey…Harvey tumbles right into it, rushing into the space like he’s begging for it on purpose, even though he’d swear an oath to the contrary. Harvey doesn’t know. But it’s okay that Harvey doesn’t know. Because Mike does, and Mike can do this for him. In this one arena, Mike can play the lead. With aplomb, actually, and quite a bit of pleasure besides.So when Harvey starts pacing the floor, shoes eating up the ground in front of him, practically vibrating with need masked as aggression and stress, Mike takes the opening. “Hey,” he says. “Harvey,” he says. And it’s a tone he’s never used with Harvey before. Strong, assured…like he knows something Harvey doesn’t know. And he does.Mike can tell Harvey doesn’t like it. Not on an intellectual level anyway. But emotionally…emotionally, Harvey is responding, is coming alive under Mike’s expert verbal touch. He’s stopped pacing, and Mike walks over to him, holds himself tall and assured. He drops the emotional shields he’s used to keeping up, lets the power of his presence bleed through the gap. And he sees the exact moment when Harvey picks up on the shift, because a full body shiver shakes through him.“I…” Harvey trails off, clearly angry and confused, but underneath that, desperately, desperately wanting. Mike knows Harvey can’t let himself have this. But that’s okay. Because Mike can give it to him anyway, can offer this up. “I must be getting sick,” Harvey says, and rubs a hand over the back of his neck, trying to deflect. Mike doesn’t let him.He steps right in front of Harvey, toe to toe, and knocks Harvey’s hand away. ‘Why don’t you let me,” he says, and cups the back of Harvey’s neck, firm and sure. And Harvey…Harvey melts. Mike can feel it happen, the tension draining out of Harvey.“It’s heavy, isn’t it?” Mike says, keeping his tone conversational, light.“What- what is?” Harvey asks, and he sounds like he’s had a scotch or two, except he hasn’t.“The weight of pretending,” Mike says, light and easy, like it’s nothing. He feels Harvey tense, feels him start to gather back up his walls, pretend to fight it.“You could,” Mike says, before Harvey even has the chance to say anything at all. “But why bother?” He steps up closer, fists his free hand in Harvey’s hair, and pulls Harvey’s head back. Harvey moans.“You want this?” Mike asks. “I know you don’t want to admit it. But I have to ask, once.” He says it quiet, honest, kind.Harvey looks pained. He’s hard in his slacks now, neck bared and sweat running down his face. His pupils are blown wide, the set of his shoulders so different from how he usually carries himself. Harvey looks like a man taken apart.“Yes.” Harvey says it once, clipped, like it costs him everything, but then he moves his gaze, lets Mike see his eyes. The desperate desire to be loved, cherished, owned reflected there. The desperate need to be with someone who will finally, finally let him let go. Harvey has waited his entire life for someone who doesn’t need him to be Harvey Specter, who will let him just be, instead.“I’ve got you,” Mike says, and Harvey drops to his knees like he’s lost the use of his legs. Mike only just manages to let go of his hair in time. And then Harvey is shoving his entire face at Mike’s crotch, naked desperation written all over his face.“Jesus,” Mike says, startled but not displeased with this turn of events. He presses the tip of his shoe against Harvey’s right knee.“Please,” Harvey chokes out, and oh shit, Harvey is crying. He’s shaking and crying and Mike has barely done anything at all. He may have miscalculated how much pent up need was built up inside Harvey.It’s okay, Mike can do this. He can be what Harvey needs. He can.He reaches out, grabs Harvey by the peaked lapels, and hauls him up. Harvey immediately collapses into him, needy and desperate, his hips making vague figure eights in the general vicinity of Mike’s right thigh.“Okay, okay, I got you, Harvey,” Mike says, “I got you. Harvey.”He moves with Harvey, dumps them both on the couch with Harvey sprawled beneath him. “Oh God, Mike,” he’s saying. “I need this so bad, please. What have you done to me? Please.” He sounds incredulous, close to incoherent, and is shaking rather badly. The front of his slacks is soaked through.Okay, okay, think Mike. What does Harvey need? How to give Harvey what he needs… His fingers scratch against the material of Harvey’s suit and he realizes.“You want this,” Mike says again. It’s not phrased as a question, but it gives Harvey an out if he needs it. Harvey just sobs and gasps for air, his fingers convulsing where they’re digging into Mike’s suit jacket.“On the floor,” Mike says. “No, over there.” He points to a spot in the middle of Harvey’s office, and Harvey scrambles to comply. Mike stands over him where he’s kneeling and shaking. “Rub off on me,” he commands, in the tone he never uses in front of Harvey normally, and Harvey, God, Harvey does.He does for about two minutes, and then he starts really crying in earnest.“I can’t, Mike,” he sobs. “Please, I can’t…” his voice breaks. “This suit costs…”Mike drops to his knees behind Harvey, gets one arm around his middle and starts rocking the flat of his hand against Harvey’s fly.“Mike, Jesus, I can’t…” Harvey chokes off a sob, hips working frantically, “please, God no, Mike, I can’t stop, no, I’m gonna –“Harvey seems to burst then, all the particles that make Harvey Specter, The Best Damn Closer in New York blown away into nothing but a smattering of space junk as Harvey fucking collapses forward, the force of his orgasm so intense that Mike is basically holding him up.And Mike? Mike is already done. The sight of Harvey Specter, tear stained cheeks, reddened neck, and a load of come soaking into his favorite five thousand dollar pinstripe suit? Yeah, Mike is definitely dealing with his own mess right now. He ignores it in favor of crushing Harvey to him, cradling the man in his arms.“Thank you,” Mike makes sure to say, because he is under no illusions. This is Harvey Specter, laid bare, and no one before Mike has ever been allowed to look this deep.Harvey smiles, eyes teary and swimming with a peaceful sort of honesty when he says, “Thank you, Mike.”Mike smiles, hugs Harvey again, and leans around to touch his lips to Harvey’s. He’ll never know what Harvey The Lawyer tastes like. But Harvey The Man tastes sweet, and authentic, and amazing. Fuck, he’s lucky. So is Harvey. Thank God they found each other. They stay like that for a long time, couched together on Harvey’s floor, the city lights shining bright like star pricks in the darkness behind them.