Author's notes:

Just a little something small. Rated M-ish just for the last few lines. xxx

Cuddling

By Atheniandream

Over the course of the last three months,

Harvey Specter has...let's say...softened.

Only with her. Only ever with her. And occasionally Mike, of course.

But he has, for all intents and purposes, broken down his final remaining wall.

Now, he is sharing his bed, permanently - or at least as often as he can encourage - with one specific Redhead in mind.

And it's been...wonderful.

To wake up to her, his hands able to seek her out without his eyes needing to peel; to feel the beguiling retention of youthful smoothness in her skin as his nostrils awaken to her rather perfumy scent, awave with pineapple and vanilla and other favourite things of his. He is able to wander into his mornings, now, with a smile tugging boyishly at his lips and a very prominent directive following soon after.

Nowadays, he's gone from serial overachieving Bachelor of the city to an eager middle aged and accomplished man with an itch that only Donna Paulsen can scratch adequately.

And again, it's wonderful. He's like a rookie born once over and indulging, finally, in the finer things.

However,

Not all is as plain sailing as it could be.

Because, for the last week,

He has started to...suffer, as a result of his unwavering attention to this other, better half of him.

He stifles the groan that seems to want to force itself out, at odds, for the sixth day this week. He notices the light pushing boldly at his eyes as his hand moulds itself around the pointed hip, only a few inches from his.

He concentrates. He's not about to go down without a fight...

At first, he had thought of skipping to the more interesting part of their now established morning routine, until she'd put the kibosh on it, practically growling at him to give her one more second of precious unconsciousness.

He'd figured out pretty quickly, that she was a veritable teenager when it came to 'early mornings' as it were. It brought a grin to his face and a devilish streak to his intentions for more than a few, until she'd threatened one fateful dawn rise to withhold all morning sex unless he relinquished his attacks. That had quashed his unravelling of her in a sharp New York minute.

The groan awakens him once more, his face tightening slightly at the sharpest of pains before he has time to alleviate it.

He's learnt another thing. She is in tune with him on nearly every level. Except Sports.

And he daren't wake the beautiful beast...

He very carefully, and slowly, straightens his left leg, careful not to brace himself on her as he feels the tightness begin to wane, a freedom of movement coming back in his otherwise dead leg.

He hopes to god he's cut off the next sensation at the pass, as he breathes out, concentrating on the distracting auburn mane of hair that assaults his pillow at every opportunity.

But it's not enough. He's too late. His body tenses every muscle just to stop the white hot and yet seemingly freezing cold static to run from his toes all the way up to his hip. He raises his big toe off of the mattress, cursing the fabric sheet, even with it's lightness as it weighs down on the specific area with intent.

He notices her breathe out in a puff, no doubt still in the throws of sleep and dreaming far away from his bittersweet anguish. And all at once he longs to be where she is. For starters he wouldn't have a body there. Or swelling sensations that drain on him like this.

He curses quietly to himself as another wave hits, like static that seems to rise a shiver up his chest. He grits his teeth with an annoyance. No doubt any semblance of morning arousal has been dashed, once again as a result of his compromising position.

He's paralised for what seems like an eternity, only able to feel discomfort on the apex of dread with this blinding white light of day chastising him all the more. He concentrates on breathing out and looks at red. For most people, red is a sign of limits and alarm and a rising end.

Red has always been lucky to him. Calming, and centering and a focus point.

His left hand itches to move. But he's learnt before, that if he wakes her, one of three things would happen. Two of them, savoury, and one of them, although preferable, definitely not on the table right now.

It's starting to subside, albeit slowly, the pin-pricks of insanity lessening into a controlled hum throughout his body. He wonders, if he lowers his leg, and just succumbs to it, would it be a better end? The last time he did, he rose to stand and ended up on the floor to awakening pointing and laughing at him in the worst form. Laughing that ran into his work day and caused a muddy mood to transpire.

She'd learnt a few things that day…

His hopes start to rise, as the pressure lessens, giving all of the signs that his anguish would soon be over, as the sensation bleaches out, and he finally, rather unceremoniously lowers his leg back onto the bed.

He feels her stir against him, sighing at the way her rounded buttocks slide against his thigh with purpose. He tightens his hold of her hip, inhaling into her hair with silent triumph at his small victory.

"Pins and Needles?" She mumbles the question into her shoulder.

"All the God'damn way down," He huffs, finally relaxing at her familiar tone. "As much as I enjoy it, I think we're gonna to have to change the format, here." He says, inferring to their routine position.

"I thought for a second there you were really going to lose it." She remarks, stirring against him with a yawn.

He blinks, tensing once more but for a different reason this time. "Wait a minute. You were awake this entire time?" He asks, disbelief in his voice as he pokes the accusation into her ribcage.

She chuckles to herself, all the colours of the day in her voice. He hates the way he loves the sound of it.

She turns over slowly, giving herself the room to examine him. If he wasn't so pissed, he'd be completely distracted by the fact that she was here, in his bed. In his home. Beautiful and unbridled and seemingly his.

"I was giving you...time...to work it out." She flirts with the words, her fingers finding his jaw until the vibrant memory swells. "You know...after the Last Time-" She remarks, the words frothing immediately with flames of humour.

"Ah!" He barks lamely, interrupting her. "You promised you'd never bring that up again." He warns, resolving himself over such an exposing moment. "You promised." He repeats for good measure.

She looks at him pitifully, her hand sliding across the part of his chest where his heart rests. "I can still see the way you...flailed off the bed." She sputters. "Like a little turtle," She manages through an eruption of hysteria. "Your face…" She mouthes the words, almost completely lost in the reliving of it as her arms recount the jagged movements of his ordeal.

He looks at her, dead panned. Like staring down the barrel of a gun.

He is not amused.

She puts her hand to her mouth, eventually averting her eyes just to stop the way of laughter.

He rises then, shoving the blanket grumpily to her side, as she writhes. "I am not cuddling you ever again," He warns, his sulking tone offset by the way this cherubim shaped buttocks aid in his slightly limped swagger out of the bedroom.

Her grin bends, catching her breath back in gradual stages. "Don't say things you don't mean!" She calls playfully to his retreating form, as she scrambles to find her robe.

The most enjoyable part of her morning - save for the sex - is watching him parade about his glass apartment in his birthday suit.

She slides into the kitchen, silk covered and draping herself against the door jamb with purpose.

They both know he'll soften by the time they get to work.

He's learning.

They both are.

Baby Steps.

"Two blowjobs," He calls roughly at her, making his forfeited demands as he wanders around to the kitchen side.

"Would you like your payment in full or in two very direct deposits?" She offers candidly, arching a sharpened eyebrow.

That catches him.

She watches his moulded, seemingly half naked stance on the other side of the counter top bend just a fraction enough to tell her he's fine.

She watches then, as a twisted smile appears, a chuckle finally falling out of him like an eager coin dispenser.

"I love you." She tells him, her face growing wistful as she plants the fact in his mind, a need to go to him making itself apparent in the way she lingers in the doorway like a girl with no place to go.

"Come an get your damn coffee," He commands, "I'd bring it to you, but...my legs still a little...dead." He adds, his face sulking until she can kiss it away.

Ten Days to GO! GAAAAAHAAHAHAHAHAAHHHHH (Nervous Much!) Atheniandream xxx