Harvey glances idly down the hallway, wondering what the commotion is. Louis is haranguing Harold, his face dark with an anger Harvey knows is mostly assumed, all puffed-up arrogance and disdain for his hapless underling.
Harold -- who really should be used to this treatment by now -- is babbling excuses as he stares at Louis with anxious eyes, his hands making nervous, futile gestures.
There's a certain intimacy to them: the way they're standing, the control Louis is exercising, Harold's blatant need to appease. Harvey feels, for a moment, like a voyeur, but Louis always did have an exhibitionist streak, so he shelves the guilt.
He's mildly aroused. Not enough to provide a display of his own, but enough to make his face warm, his cock thicken slightly. Strange.
"Harvey!" Mike hurries forward, his gaze never leaving Harvey's face, which means he's done something wrong.
It turns out that he has. He's screwed up hours of work with one word out of place in a call he'd had no authority to make.
Harvey opens his mouth to rake Mike fore and aft, then turns to look at Louis and Harold...then
back at Mike, who's covering worry that he's disappointed Harvey with a transparent -- to Harvey, at least -- layer of bravado and a spate of words, at least half of which are quotations from movies.
Back at Louis and Harold.
It's like looking in a mirror.
A funhouse mirror, but still.
Oh. Now he gets it.
He pitches his voice just so, says Mike's name, and leans in closer. He's curious.
Mike goes still. Quiet. Waiting to be admonished, reprimanded. Disciplined.
Harvey's curiosity becomes enlightenment about the same time Mike's breath hitches, his tongue flicking over his lower lip and leaving it glossy as a cherry.
"Fix it like a good boy, hmm?"
Harvey smiles, pats Mike's arm, ignores the startled disappointment he's put on Mike's face, and walks back into his office, his arousal a heavy, rich taste in his mouth, something to be savored.
Like training Mike.
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