"New tie. What do you think?" Mike perched on the edge of Harvey's desk, a habit Harvey deplored, and took his tie between two fingers, flicking it up and down like an impudent tongue.

Harvey smacked Mike's wrist with the back of his hand and pushed aside his reaction to both the smack and Mike's easy acceptance of it. So he liked the fact that when it came to him, Mike had no personal space; it meant less than his cock seemed to think it did. He'd lecture it sternly later on.

"Hold still." Mike froze obligingly and Harvey squinted at the strip of fabric. Oh God, no. Just no. "It's silk, that's something, but it's cheap silk. The stripes are too narrow. They're making my eyes hurt. The colors are atrocious. That green with that blue? Please. Would you like me to continue or have I made it abundantly obvious that I think it's grounds for dismissal?"

Mike pouted. "It's just like the one you wore last Tuesday."

So Mike had applied his freak memory to cataloging Harvey's clothing? Interesting. "If I thought you were deluded enough to believe that, I'd have Security remove you immediately."

Mike grinned, unafraid and unabashed, qualities that Harvey appreciated. "Nah, you'd throw me out of the window yourself. It's quicker."

"Don't give me ideas."

This close, he could smell Mike's brand of body wash mixed in with his natural odor. See Mike's thigh muscles flex as he swung his leg back and forth. It was distracting. Harvey could tell himself that the desk perching showed a lack of respect -- and it did -- but it was disturbing for other reasons.

He'd found himself placing his hand on the warm patch Mike's ass had left once, contemplating that ass blushing bright and hot under the weight of his hand. He'd gotten less work done in the hour that followed than he had the day he'd been dealing with a bout of food poisoning.

"So where were you all day?" Mike gestured at the clock, the time close enough to midnight that even Harvey was contemplating leaving for the night. Outside his room, the office was dark and empty. He was surprised that Mike was still around. "Why bother coming back this late?"

Partly to see what Mike had accomplished -- or destroyed -- after a day left unsupervised, though he didn't plan to share that. Finding Mike still at his desk had prevented Harvey from investigating at the source -- Mike's in-tray -- but Donna had left him a report.

Mike had gotten a 'B' for clearing astonishing amounts of files, but a 'D' for eating lunch with Louis and not bringing Donna back a slice of lemon and lime cheesecake. She'd been mercifully, if surprisingly, silent on the tie.

"I like to check in on the place. For all I know, without my guiding hand, you might've burned it to the ground. Or sold it."

Mike pointed at his unsmiling face. "I'm laughing inside." He ruined the snub by breaking into a sunny grin.

"Were you laughing during your lunch date too?"

The guilty flinch Mike gave, barely perceptible though it was, had Harvey's hand curling into a fist on his knee, out of sight luckily.

"It wasn't a -- he made me go with him. I said 'no' until it got embarrassing to come up with any more excuses, then he made it an order and stuck me with the bill." Mike brooded silently for a few moments before bursting out with, "Sandwiches and beer! That's all we had and it came to eighty freaking bucks. That's just wrong. Can I sue? Louis or the restaurant, I don't care which."

Harvey had no problem identifying the restaurant. The Sandy Witch would be out of business in a month, but right now it was hot, fooling people into paying ridiculous amounts for admittedly tasty homemade bread and imaginative fillings and beer from the micro-brewery next door. It was a dilemma; they were only hot because they charged so much, but the high prices would shoot them in the foot when the foodies moved on, as they always did.

"No, and next time just tell Louis that you're lunching with me."

"We never do lunch. Sometimes you buy a hot dog and I'm standing right there. That's not us doing lunch."

"It's a busy time for me. Lunch is when I do some of my best work."

"I thought that was nighttime when you wine and dine and flirt and fuck -- oops." Mike mimed zipping his lips. "Louis said not to mention that."

Harvey narrowed his eyes. Charming. "And yet you did."

"It just slipped out."

"Hmm. For your information, when it comes to clients, I keep my pants zipped."

Not entirely accurate, but Mike didn't need details. Harvey, on the other hand, wanted many details, all of them centered around the conversation Louis and Mike had shared.

Not that he planned to just ask. Where was the fun in that?

"Get off my desk."

"Huh? Why? I like it here." Mike edged an inch or two further onto Harvey's desk, far enough that his ass crumpled a sheet of paper sticking out of a file. It was unimportant on one level, insupportable on another.

Harvey's hand swung and connected without conscious thought being involved at any point, his palm curving around the right side of Mike's ass with a satisfyingly loud slap.

"Hey!" Mike jumped but settled down on the desk again, his cheeks pink -- three out of four of them, Harvey guessed -- and his eyes sparkling. "Oh, it's on. You're gonna have to make me move now."

Harvey arched his eyebrows. "A simple order isn't enough?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Nope."

"A threat? I have so many I could use that I'm spoiled for choice."

"You slapped my ass, Harvey. Honor demands a duel but I left my sword at home. Hard to ride a bike with one."

"Don't remind me about that bike." The state of Mike when he arrived at work, windswept, sweaty, his pants crumpled… Harvey wanted to groom him to an acceptable level of elegance every morning and it killed him that he couldn't. He gestured in the vague direction of Mike's ass. "You don't seem too concerned about that?"
Mike wriggled without once reaching down to rub away the sting, more of a settling into place than a wordless protest. "I'm guessing it's not normal workplace behavior, but we don't really have a normal workplace relationship."

"In some ways, no." Harvey eyed him. "You're challenging my authority every time you sit on my desk. Is it deliberate?"

Mike widened his eyes. "Me? Challenging you? When does that ever happen?"

"I see." Harvey picked up a pen and turned it between his fingers, watching the light spark off the silver surface, tiny flashes sending a coded message. "Accepted."

"What does that mean?"

Mike sounded a little worried for the first time, a thread of uncertainty running through all that cocky assurance. Good.

"It means that tomorrow, you'll arrive bright and early with a yellow duster, the nice old-fashioned kind, and a tin of furniture wax. Lemon oil's over-rated. You'll polish my desk until I'm satisfied with the shine and I'll occupy the time by writing out a list of the possible nicknames your peers will dream up for you when they see you toiling away."

"You can't do that."

"Can."

"I won't --" Mike sighed and lost the indignant squeak. "This is where you offer me an alternative that's just a fraction less embarrassing, but not by much, isn't it?"

"You don't like being humiliated in public?"

"In public? No."

"Interesting distinction."

"Yeah. And by the way, if you ever slap my ass when someone else is around, don't expect me to say, 'Thank you, sir, may I please have another?' because it's not going to happen."

"I wouldn't. It's beneath my dignity. You don't have any to speak of, so the question doesn't arise."

"Are you trying to get me so mad I stand up and walk out?"

"Or possibly I'm being very kind and giving you a way to stand up without losing too much face before I deal with your insubordination and mildly amusing rebellion in a way you won't like." Harvey let his gaze drop to the shape Mike's cock made pressed up urgently against dark fabric. "Or maybe you will. Hmm."

Mike took a quick breath, a sharp inhalation similar to the one he'd made when Harvey had slapped him. "Do it. You think I've crossed a line? You're going to have to cross it too if you want to drag me back over."

"Anything goes?" Harvey tempted him, wondering if Mike would be foolish enough in the grip of arousal -- and Mike was so very aroused right then -- to agree.

"What? No!" Mike licked his lips. "I mean -- what are we talking about here? What are you planning to do to me?"

"A good lawyer never reveals his plans to the other side, Mike, you know that. You've put us in a position where we're antagonists, not allies. As your mentor, I reject that. It's not how I want it to be between us."

Was that disappointment in Mike's eyes? Harvey thought that it was. Sweet.

"And as your mentor, I have a duty to teach you, mold you, reward your successes and discipline you as needed." He waited a beat -- timing was everything and added, "As it's needed now."

"'And after the spanking…the oral sex'? Mike said, clearly striving for ironic and failing miserably.

"Ooh, a Python fan. You've been hiding your redeeming qualities. No. That would be completely inappropriate at work." Not that every office in the building didn't have a steamy story to tell…but Mike was too junior to hear them just yet.

"No spanking, no sex… You're limiting your options."

"I'm disciplining you," Harvey reminded him. "You're not supposed to enjoy it, though I suppose inside every rookie is a masochist. You just let yours out to play a little more obviously than most."

They both stared at the bulge in Mike's pants for a while. Yes, it was definitely bigger than before.

"And limits? Please." Harvey stood and walked over to the door, locking it and lowering the blinds to give them some privacy. He flicked off the overhead light, leaving the room lit by the muted glow of his desk light.

"Setting the scene?"

"Interesting choice of words." Harvey walked back to his desk and sat down, his brain filled with plans, scenarios, possibilities. This situation had blown up out of nowhere, but it didn't mean he wasn't prepared for it. A good lawyer was prepared for anything, always. "You'll do as you're told, exactly, precisely. I won't touch you at any point. What I have planned for you involves partial nudity, a certain amount of physical discomfort, but no actual pain, and an inordinate amount of humiliation for you, something I'll enjoy immensely, because your habit of using my desk -- my desk -- as a place to sit is just plain rude. Questions? Or feel free to pick the wax and polish option after all."

Mike stared at him, speechless, gulping. Sweet little guppy. "Do it. I guess I asked for it."

"You've been begging for it," Harvey corrected him. "Not with any coherence or clarity, but I suppose I'm partly to blame for not seeing your errant behavior for the cry for help that it actually was." He grinned. "Just kidding. You're naturally a brat and I don't give a rat's ass because I can cope with a dozen rookies like you without breaking a sweat."

Mike's chin jerked up, defiance temporarily overcoming whatever impulse or buried desire had gotten him to this point. "Prove it."

"Take off your tie. Take off that horrible strip of silk around your neck and put it down on the desk."

Harvey kept his voice bored, calm, and the order precise.

Slowly, never looking away from Harvey's eyes, Mike did as he was told. His shirt was still buttoned up all the way, allowing Harvey no glimpse of the fragile cup of bone and skin he'd wanted to run his tongue over for weeks now, tasting the heat and feeling the pulse beat against his mouth.

"Now get out your dick." The deliberate crudity made Harvey's cock thicken and fill, but he ignored it. Mike couldn't see it and if he did, Harvey didn't care. He had plenty to show off in that department.

"My -- you want me to --"

"If I have to repeat myself, I'll get bored. If you bore me, I'll end this."

Mike reached down and fumbled with his belt.

"Just the zipper, I think."

There was something deliciously erotic about the picture Mike presented a moment later, fully dressed, but with a pink, stiff cock poking out of his fly. Mike was adequately hung, though not as big as Harvey in any dimension. Of course not.

"Pick up your tie. Knot one end of it around the base of your dick. Tight enough that the knot won't slip, not tight enough that your dick turns purple. It really wouldn't go with the green and blue."

Mike made a sound, a soft, bewildered protest as if he couldn't quite accept what his ears were telling him. Harvey ignored it. Mike's hands weren't confused at all, already busy flipping the tie this way and that.

"Twist it so that the free end is underneath…yes, like that. Good boy."

The praise drew another gurgled protest from Mike, but his cock hardened even more, a glaze of fluid streaking the rounded head.

Harvey leaned forward, very carefully not touching any part of Mike, and took hold of the loose end of the tie. It wasn't quite long enough for what he had planned. He could add his own tie to lengthen it, but that would be a terrible waste. Unlike Mike's, his tie was a sartorial success that deserved better than to be creased beyond hope of revival.

Well, he was always ready to adapt and improvise. He'd do it with the drawer out. In fact, it would work even better.

He pulled out the top drawer of the desk with a smooth tug and fastened the free end of the tie to the handle. The material stretched taut and Mike yelped. "Hey!"

"You said that before," Harvey reminded him. "Repetition's boring."

"Ow?"

"No. It's not hurting you." Harvey glanced at Mike's cock. Because Mike was stubbornly holding his position on the desk, his cock was being forced down, but not enough to be painful. He plucked at the stretched fabric and grinned when Mike's hand, resting on the desk, scrabbled at the wood.

"Now tell me what you and Louis discussed at lunch."

Mike's mouth sagged open. "That's what this is all about? Not the desk-sitting, not the challenge, not you and me flirting? It's all about Louis?"

Harvey took a long wooden ruler out of the open drawer, heavy and definitely multi-purpose. Mike swallowed visibly. "Umm, when you said you weren't going to touch me, that didn't just mean with your hands, did it? I mean…"

"Always clarify every detail," Harvey lectured him with genuine rebuke coloring his voice. "No, I'm not going to use the ruler on you, but I could easily claim that its use was permissible under our verbal contract. What I really need it for is this."

He reached out and used the end of the ruler to push the drawer in a bare inch or so. Tight became tighter, the angle between Mike's dick and his stomach increasing perceptibly.

"If it's too much, you can always move," Harvey offered.

Mike scrunched up his face and curled the fingers of his right hand around the edge of the desk, anchoring himself. "Like it here," he gritted out. "We, ah, God. We talked about how much money he'd made for the firm --"

"Boring." Harvey jabbed the ruler at the drawer, moving it in such a small amount that really, Mike's whimper was completely gratuitous, though he enjoyed hearing it too much to point that out.

"He went on and on about the way I chewed --"

"That's…" Harvey reconsidered his initial judgment and eased the drawer back out a fraction. "Presumptuous of him. Go on."

"He's really fucking jealous of you."

"Old news."

"No! Don't -- God, don't push it in, okay? He likes you. He wants to be you. He's a dickhead, but it's flattering in a way."

"You're still not telling me what I want to hear."

"There isn't anything to tell. We ate, he talked about you more than I do, I saw the bill, I screamed, we left."

Harvey pursed his lips. "Really? That was it?"

"Really," Mike assured him. "Harvey, I never lie to you -- ow!"

"You deserved that," Harvey said without a shred of mercy or sympathy and tapped the ruler against his thigh. The drawer wasn't even half-closed, for God's sake. "I'm inclined to believe you if it wasn't for the fact that he would've attempted to poach you and find out what approach I'm taking with Feldermann and Sons and you didn't mention either of those topics of conversation."

"I turned him down flat, like always, and I told him you were worried you couldn't come up with something fresh and you were going to ask for more time."

Harvey sighed. "He wouldn't buy it for as long as it took him to burp, but it showed a small amount of rudimentary cunning, I suppose."

He stood. "It's been a long day and I'm tired. You can stay here if you like, though the cleaning staff will be around in twenty minutes, or you can let me end it."

Mike looked up at him. "You're in charge, sir." If there was any sarcasm in the words, Harvey couldn't spot it but he could see that Mike enjoyed saying the words if only for the reaction Harvey couldn't quite hide, one of warm approval.

"But you still won't move if I tell you to?"

"That's a matter of principle." Mike's face was flushed, his lip swollen where his teeth had worried at it. His cock was rigid, dark, messy. Harvey wanted to go to his knees -- for convenience's sake only -- and taste it, suck lightly at the crown, bite gently down the shaft until he reached silk. He could imagine the sounds Mike would make when he did it, the way the taste of musk and pre-come would fill his mouth, sharp, dense, lingering.

"You want me to force you to get off my desk."

Not a question and Mike didn't answer as if he knew that as well as Harvey.

Harvey put his hand on the drawer. He could slam it shut, wrench Mike forward. It would hurt, though, and he'd promised Mike that pain wouldn't be part of this. Not this first time.

So he slipped the knot and wrapped the loose end around his hand, holding Mike on a leash, and tugged, gently, insistently. "Walkies, puppy."

Mike slid off the desk, his breathing harsh, his lips parted. He looked well-fucked, disheveled, and Harvey hadn't laid a finger on him.

Harvey walked to the door, not looking back to see if Mike was following him, not needing to, because there was no tension on the makeshift leash. Mike was with him, in step, following his lead with perfect obedience. For a few yards at least, it was exhilarating. Too much of it might get dull, but Harvey doubted that would ever be an issue with Mike.

They reached the door and Harvey turned. "Hold out your hand." He dropped the loose end of the tie into Mike's palm. "Undo the other knot and make yourself presentable before I unlock the door."

"I can't -- I need to come. Please, Harvey --" There was more indignation than pleading in Mike's voice.

"I said I wouldn't touch you," Harvey reminded him, knowing that he'd jerk off that night to images of what would've happened if he had. "What you do to yourself in the men's room is entirely your business, but you don't leave my office unzipped and without a tie."

Slowly, with a resentful respect, Mike gingerly picked at the knot and freed the tie. His cock, released, bobbed up and down, a drop of pre-come unspooling from the tip, translucent, eloquent.

Mike bought himself some time for his erection to dwindle by knotting his tie with a lot more care than it deserved, then took a deep breath and eased his cock back into his pants. Harvey smiled at the muttered cursing that went along with the upward tug on the zipper and then unlocked his office door, opened it, and propelled Mike though it with a push.

Back to normal. He could touch Mike again now.

***

The next morning, after the erotic dreams had become nightmares of lawsuits filed against him by a vengeful Mike, Harvey dragged himself into work a shocking fifteen minutes late with a tiny cut on his chin from shaving. He was a mess.

Mike was at the water cooler, chatting to Rachel. He spotted Harvey, ducked his head and hurried over to his desk, shooting him a rueful smile at being caught out gossiping. Harvey smiled back, relaxing a little.

When he walked into his office, his desk shone like glass, the air redolent of lemons.

Mike appeared in the doorway and Harvey very deliberately walked to his chair and sat down without speaking to him.

"I polished it anyway. Got in early."

Harvey nodded. Mike really needed to learn not to offer information before it was even asked of him.

Mike came over and stood in front of the desk, his hands behind him. "And see, I'm not sitting on it."

"I see -- smell -- that you used lemon oil when I told you not to."

 Mike gave him an impish grin. "Where would the fun be if I'd done it just the way you wanted?"

Harvey studied him in silence until Mike began to look uncomfortable, giving the impression of squirming without actually moving much. "Come to my place tonight at nine and I'll try to make you see just where the fun lies in doing exactly what I say, Mike."

"I'd like that, but tonight's not gonna work for me. See, I'm doing something --"

Harvey rolled his eyes. Mike pretending to have a social life was adorable. "Yes. You're coming to my place at nine."

Mike stuck out his lip in something perilously close to a pout, as if he wasn't getting just what he'd wanted handed to him on a plate, garnished with a sprig of rosemary (parsley was passé until it wasn't again).

"Maybe."

"Any later than nine -- by my watch, not yours, and you must tell me sometime what cereal box you found it in -- and you won't be admitted. Your choice."

Mike gave him a level look. "Is it?"

"Walking up and knocking -- always your choice," Harvey told him. "Once the door closes, probably not so much."

"I'll be there at nine-fifteen," Mike said and touched his fingers to the tie he wore. "I need to go shopping first. For another new tie."

Harvey ran his hand over his desk. It really was beautifully shiny. "Nine-fifteen it is."




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