So, it's been a while. Break Point just gave me entirely too much emotional content to play with, and a prompt over at LJ drew this out. I thought about altering this to be less smutty for a post over here, but after consideration I decided not to half ass anything. It is what it is. If you don't like, don't read.

Warnings for: strong language and graphic sexual content. I own rights to neither Suits nor Coldplay songs, but I find both inspirational. And here's your reminder to Read & Review!

And oh, I never meant to cause you trouble

And oh, I never meant to do you wrong

And oh, well if I ever caused you trouble

Oh no, I never meant to do you harm

Coldplay, "Trouble"

She didn't even need to hear the knock at the door to know who it would be. It could only be one person, really. Harvey. As all encompassing of a fixture as he had been in her life the past twelve years, she was now uncertain she could even open the door. Face him. Oh, that look of disappointment – betrayal as he called it – she would never be able to forget it. Or the shame and hurt it evoked.

It was only the muffled sound of her name that made her realize she had been staring at the door for a full two minutes. She briefly considered not answering, pointlessly denying what she knew to be the truth: he knew she was there. He knew her well enough to know she would not have gone to the bar or a friend's. Hell, she had few people truly worthy of the title except him these days due to the hours they chose to keep. And for a moment she damned him for knowing her, changing her, sequestering her, allowing her to fall, and then having the nerve to show up on her doorstep.

That is, until she heard her name drift into the room again. And his voice sounded so brutally defeated and needy that it was nearly unrecognizable. Before she realized it she was standing at the door and cursing herself for still caring. With a resolving fuck it (after all, this day had already taken her dignity down a few notches), she slowly opened the door, still dreading what she would find.

The first thing she noticed was the red tinge to his eyes, raw enough to make her own sting. Similarly, his whole demeanor made her wince, the toll of the day was obvious in his appearance and it did nothing but amplify the guilt her heavy heart was already sporting. Perhaps worse she thought, if he looked this wretched, then how God-awful must she appear?

"You look like your grandmother just died," he answered her unvoiced question. She picked up his aim immediately, recognizing it as the lowest he ever saw her and remembering the compliment he had given that it was also her at her most resilient. Realizing she needed some resiliency to come back from this, she would have appreciated the sentiment were it not for his next action.

Watching him brush past her into her apartment without thought, she was instantly taken back to her earlier thoughts of his invading her life. She understood the control Harvey wanted over situations and most of the time she even respected it, but not tonight. Tonight she wanted the power, because Lord knows today she watched her life spin out of control and it terrified her. Because she had never stopped to take into account just how much of her life she was putting into his power to get him to the top.

So when he turned around to face her, undoubtedly about to speak, she made the choice to slap him. She would have torn him to pieces and thrown him to the winds of the New York streets at that moment. She had allowed him to steal virtually her whole life and standing there in that moment it felt she had very little to show for it. She wanted to yell at him, to scream from the frustration, but she never even had the chance.

When her hand recoiled from the slap, he grabbed her wrist, locked eyes with her, and deliberately turned her palm to kiss its center. Her breathing stopped and a different heat blazed through her veins. His light brown eyes revealed it all; hurt, regret, fear, anger, and longing. She could have laughed mirthlessly because as always they were right on the same page.

"Is that supposed to be permission?" She meant for the question to come out scathingly mocking, but she feared it came out a little too breathlessly to achieve the effect.

"You know as well as I do that you never needed my permission for shit," he then added regretfully, "even when I was your boss."

"Harvey, you know I did not mean for any of this to happen," she took a deep breath to steel herself from the emotional wreck that had been hovering threateningly half the day. "I am so sorry for all of this."

"I know," he stated simply for her sake. In contrast, his next statement was more for his own benefit when he added, "But that doesn't mean we can't make the most of this situation we find ourselves in."

Even if she hadn't been able to see it in his eye she would have realized he was asking her for permission. He wasn't her boss anymore, he was just Harvey. Her best friend in the world, Harvey. The man she was willing to sacrifice it all for out of respect and loyalty. The weight of the moment was seemingly surreal when she considered the day's events and the history that had brought them to it. How many years had they inadvertently waited for this chance?

Without another thought she had stepped towards him and her mouth was on his. It had been years since she had felt his lips move against hers, since they had agreed this relationship between them would progress no further, and she had nearly forgotten how it felt to be the exclusive subject of all his intensity. Every nerve ending in her body was alight for him, in a way she had never experienced with a man before or since.

Why had they not been doing this all along? Why did it ever seem rational to pass this up? Her hands were in his hair, taking every advantage of this opportunity to make even a part of him disarrayed. She felt his hands at her waist, pulling her closer, and working their way under her T shirt. Somewhere abstractly she agreed with his decision that skin needed to meet skin and stat.

She pushed him further away briefly to work at undoing the buttons on his shirt, as he shrugged off his jacket. The whole time he watched her, almost predatorily and certainly possessively. The second the shirt was gone he was back on her, lifting her own shirt over her head, delighted to find her braless, and greedily running his hands over the newly exposed skin. Her lips found their way back home to his, as he walked her backward towards the room he knew to be her bedroom.

Once she was on the bed, sat upward on her knees, hands lingering over his chest and arms as though she couldn't quite bear to break contact with him, he took a moment to truly appreciate what was happening and the beauty before him. Her hands reached for his belt and he moved his own to meet them. "Are you certain about this? Because we go any further than this there won't be any return."

She heard the genuine concern in his voice, saw it in his eyes, and she knew. He needed this to be her choice; he needed to know she was in this. No more denial. It frightened her briefly, because damn if this couldn't make things even more complicated come morning. But she was so, so tired after this day, after this life of pretending she could just wish these damned feelings away. All of these years and not a thing had changed. Part of her wanted to hit him again as though it was his fault.

Instead, she undid his belt, feeling the same nervous finality as when a rollercoaster's seatbelt clicks into place. Never breaking eye contact with him, she said, "I'm done with this struggle Harvey, consequences be damned."

His hands were on her hips then, as he stepped out of his trousers. He pushed her back into the bed, pulling her cotton shorts down her long legs, and nearly let out a moan when he found how soaked her panties were. He felt her eyes on him as he swiftly removed them as well, kissing his way back up her legs, stopping right up at the corner of her thigh.

He took one look up at her hooded eyes and he was on her. Her hand found his hair immediately, leading him exactly where she needed him. His tongue caressed her nether lips, his thumb finding its way to her clit, applying pressure and flicks that were delightfully arousing. Her hips began moving on their own to find more friction, and he could tell she wouldn't last very long. He heard his name on her lips as she plunged over the edge and the sound shot straight to his dick.

Her eyes opened and she looked down at him breathing heavily. He turned his head to place a kiss on her thigh before crawling up to meet her. She looked up at him, meeting the intensity of his eyes, and he saw so many thoughts and emotions play across her face that he could swear in that instant he was reading her mind. He kissed her deeply and moaned when he felt her palming his straining erection through his boxers.

"Damn it, Donna." He said with a heavy breath. He smiled, exhaling deeply. "I'd ask if you have any idea how long I've waited for this, but you would be the one person who truly does."

"Please, Harvey."

She need not ask twice. His boxers were off in an instant and her hand quickly found the soft skin of his cock, making a few quick passes along its length, and running her thumb over its tip, before moving her hands up along the tight skin of his stomach and chest. He grabbed her hips and slid her towards him, positioning himself at her entrance. He leaned forward, kissing her temple as he plunged into her still slick opening with one swift thrust.

It was a near triumphant feat that he didn't lose his shit right then and there. She was so tight around him and it seemed like her walls were already milking him. He wanted to take the time to do this right, to near worship her the way she deserved, but he wasn't certain even he possessed that amount of self-control at the moment. Cerebrally, he knew he still feared that this was it, the one opportunity he would ever get to have her in this sense. But he couldn't feel that to be the truth, this was just too damned good to only get to experience it once. This was more than just a hook-up to ease the tension so that he wouldn't be left playing with himself. This was the real deal.

His body picked up the pace entirely too soon, racing to meet her. He could tell Donna was near tears, as this really was too much and all the same not enough, so long had they waited for this culminating moment. He couldn't do anything but kiss her, they were both breathing too heavily to speak, brains flying too fast and too thoughtlessly anyhow to have tried. All they could do was move.

She cried out sharply when it came to its end, pulling him with her to waves of orgasm. There were tears in her eyes when he finally met them, and he placed gentle kisses all over her face with hopes of erasing them or the pain behind them. He felt it too, the regret that it took them this long, relief that the decision had finally been made and that satisfaction was finally gained, fear that something would tear them apart, anguish at any thought of ever losing this, joy to have felt all of this at least once.

An hour later, they still lay there. A word hadn't been spoken, but they both knew the other to be awake. She had hesitated several times to even bother breaking the silence.


"Yes, Donna?"

"Thank you." She didn't elaborate, so he assumed he should be able to easily guess what for. His gut was leaning towards it being thanks for waiting.

"I can't pretend to know how this all will change things, but I know that this," he took hold of her hand, "was worth it."

She wanted to talk about things. How she had never seen that document, even without a memory like Mike's she should have recognized it. How she was sorry that their ever sharing a day in the office together again was in jeopardy. How she was sorry for all that meant for their careers and personal lives, which were so largely overlapping. How she was worried about how he would handle things. How part of her hoped, ever so slightly, that between the two of them they would find some brilliant solution to resolve the many problems that had arose these past few weeks. And how part of her hoped that they wouldn't so that maybe, just maybe, it would give them a better shot at working out a relationship.

She wanted to discuss all of it with him, brainstorm, map out a plan of attack like they always did in confronting their problems. But as pertinent of a conversation as that would be for them, it still didn't seem significant enough to breach what had happened tonight. No, they would have plenty of time for that tomorrow, and the next day. But who knew if they would ever have a night like this again at their disposal? And there was no way in hell she was going to waste it.