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kathierif_ficTitle: Wag your Tail
Fandom: Suits
Pairing: Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: It’s not the first time Harvey dropped the puppy analogy on him.
A/N: kink_bingo fic, prompt “humiliation (in public)”. 1188 words. First, I thought I'd combine this with the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hc_bingo prompt, but then, I started doubting that this wasn't really hurt or comfort, so I split the two of them again. Yeah, that's my life *shrug*
It’s not the first time Harvey dropped the puppy analogy on him, and Mike knows that it won’t be the last time. He knows from Rachel that it’s a good thing; according to her and apparently Jessica Pearson, it means Harvey is really taking him on as a padawan or student or whatever, and is grooming him to be the next Harvey Specter. It’s a great honor to be picked by Harvey, who is the best closer in the whole city, and Mike should be thankful to be Harvey’s puppy, but right now, hiding out in one of the less frequented restrooms in the building, all Mike can feel is the sharp burn of embarrassment. He’s sure his face is beet-red, and if asked, he honestly couldn’t explain how he’s managing to keep an erection when all his blood is flowing into his face and apparently planning on staying there for a while.
What is even more mystifying is why he is so hard.
And to make things even more confusing, he doesn’t know if it’s because or despite of Harvey’s words that he’s trying to talk himself out of the hardest erection he had to have to deal with in a long time.
There is no way he can return to his cubicle now and proof briefs for Louis, not with the front of his dark pants tented so obscenely. Besides that, every associate on the floor has heard Harvey call him a good puppy and his promise of a treat before he’d closed the door to the conference room into Mike’s face.
It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before, but never in front of a client in a way that the client realized what was going on, and never in front of a client who owns a company producing pet accessories, someone who makes an outrageously good living out of selling diamond-studded dog collars or little silk dresses for rich and spoiled yappy dogs.
Mike runs a hand through his hair and leans his still burning face against the cool wall. The more he thinks about what happened, the more he remembers, the more his cock throbs in his pants. Mike can feel the slight wetness soaking through his underwear and probably his pants as well.
He can’t go back to work with a wet spot on the front of his pants, and if he can’t stop thinking about the whole situation, this erection will never go away. He’d be stuck in this restroom for the rest of the day, and he can only hope that nobody saw him disappear in here earlier, or Harvey will find out and will come and drag him out himself or something.
It’s pretty obvious to Mike right now that his problem won’t go away on its own, and he’s reluctant to reach into his pants and do something about it, as if opening his belt and zipper and touching himself will only make it more real that he got hard when his boss called him a good puppy.
In public.
Maybe he should visit Trevor in Montana, where he went back to, feeling betrayed about Mike and Jenny being friends, but then, Mike would have to explain what happened and even more people would know. Mike shudders at the thought and squeezes his eyes tightly shut.
He shifts from one foot to the other, and the material of his underwear drags in a delicious caress across the tip of his erection. He bites his lip to keep quiet, and presses his flat palm tightly against his dick.
Thinking about disgusting things usually helps, but not even the mental image of Louis in a towel calling him his pony is helping right now. Instead, Mike flashes back to Harvey, his little smirk when he said good puppy, the way he had said it, his timbre and the tilt of his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth slightly mocking.
His dick throbs, or at least it feels like it does, and before Mike knows what he’s doing, he’s caving and opening his pants to reach inside and to pull his dick out.
Good puppy.
The words echo around his head when he runs his hand roughly over his dick. Harvey’s smirk haunts him as he strokes himself at a furious pace. He knows that he will die of shame and embarrassment if someone catches him here, jerking off in a restroom like a pervert.
Like a pervert who likes to be called a puppy by his boss.
Mike bites his lip until he can taste the coppery tang of blood and his ears rush loudly. It’s louder than anything else, but not drowning out the mocking voice in his head.
Mike comes to the sound of white noise in his brain, echoes of Harvey praising him mockingly in front of everybody, the mental image of Harvey feeding him dog treats, bouncing off the inside of his skull. It’s so intense he feels like it’s deafening him.
He pants as he slowly returns to reality. Immediately, pure mortification fills him. It’s even worse than the embarrassment, he thinks as he cleans him up as much as he can and tucks his dick back into his pants.
~*+~~
When he finally dares to slink back to his cubicle and Louis’ briefs, nobody is paying special attention to him. He sits down and bows his head low, highlighter already in his fingers, when a flash of dark red peeking out from under a file catches his attention.
Curiously, he lifts the file to reveal a thin, elegant collar underneath. Attached to it is a post-it with a time scribbled on it in Harvey’s unmistakable handwriting.
Mike quickly rolls the collar up and lets it disappear in his bag while glancing suspiciously around. The leather is soft against his sweaty palms, like butter, threatening to distract him again.
Nobody is looking up to see him blush furiously, thankfully, and hopefully, nobody saw the collar on his desk. Harvey can be sneaky when he wants to be, he could have put the collar there without anybody being the wiser. Mike dares to take a breath of relief and tries to focus back on his work and not the interested twitch deep in his stomach.
It could be worse, he figures.
Louis could have left him a saddle or something.
The thought makes him shudder almost violently. He thinks of the post-it in his bag instead.
Harvey doesn’t know what Mike did in the restroom. As far as Harvey is concerned, Mike is strictly embarrassed by getting called a puppy, not aroused.
He’s sure Harvey won’t apologize for his analogy, but Mike knows he will show up at Harvey’s doorstep at the indicated time anyway, just because Harvey said so and Mike is curious as to what Harvey wants.
He can’t help it. Harvey can embarrass him and mortify him and give the impression not to care about him, and Mike will still wag his tail every time Harvey reached out to pat his head.
Apparently, he is a sucker for punishment.
Mike sighs.
Good puppy, indeed.
Fandom: Suits
Pairing: Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Rating: FRT-13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: It’s not the first time Harvey dropped the puppy analogy on him.
A/N: kink_bingo fic, prompt “humiliation (in public)”. 1188 words. First, I thought I'd combine this with the
hc_bingo prompt, but then, I started doubting that this wasn't really hurt or comfort, so I split the two of them again. Yeah, that's my life *shrug*It’s not the first time Harvey dropped the puppy analogy on him, and Mike knows that it won’t be the last time. He knows from Rachel that it’s a good thing; according to her and apparently Jessica Pearson, it means Harvey is really taking him on as a padawan or student or whatever, and is grooming him to be the next Harvey Specter. It’s a great honor to be picked by Harvey, who is the best closer in the whole city, and Mike should be thankful to be Harvey’s puppy, but right now, hiding out in one of the less frequented restrooms in the building, all Mike can feel is the sharp burn of embarrassment. He’s sure his face is beet-red, and if asked, he honestly couldn’t explain how he’s managing to keep an erection when all his blood is flowing into his face and apparently planning on staying there for a while.
What is even more mystifying is why he is so hard.
And to make things even more confusing, he doesn’t know if it’s because or despite of Harvey’s words that he’s trying to talk himself out of the hardest erection he had to have to deal with in a long time.
There is no way he can return to his cubicle now and proof briefs for Louis, not with the front of his dark pants tented so obscenely. Besides that, every associate on the floor has heard Harvey call him a good puppy and his promise of a treat before he’d closed the door to the conference room into Mike’s face.
It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before, but never in front of a client in a way that the client realized what was going on, and never in front of a client who owns a company producing pet accessories, someone who makes an outrageously good living out of selling diamond-studded dog collars or little silk dresses for rich and spoiled yappy dogs.
Mike runs a hand through his hair and leans his still burning face against the cool wall. The more he thinks about what happened, the more he remembers, the more his cock throbs in his pants. Mike can feel the slight wetness soaking through his underwear and probably his pants as well.
He can’t go back to work with a wet spot on the front of his pants, and if he can’t stop thinking about the whole situation, this erection will never go away. He’d be stuck in this restroom for the rest of the day, and he can only hope that nobody saw him disappear in here earlier, or Harvey will find out and will come and drag him out himself or something.
It’s pretty obvious to Mike right now that his problem won’t go away on its own, and he’s reluctant to reach into his pants and do something about it, as if opening his belt and zipper and touching himself will only make it more real that he got hard when his boss called him a good puppy.
In public.
Maybe he should visit Trevor in Montana, where he went back to, feeling betrayed about Mike and Jenny being friends, but then, Mike would have to explain what happened and even more people would know. Mike shudders at the thought and squeezes his eyes tightly shut.
He shifts from one foot to the other, and the material of his underwear drags in a delicious caress across the tip of his erection. He bites his lip to keep quiet, and presses his flat palm tightly against his dick.
Thinking about disgusting things usually helps, but not even the mental image of Louis in a towel calling him his pony is helping right now. Instead, Mike flashes back to Harvey, his little smirk when he said good puppy, the way he had said it, his timbre and the tilt of his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth slightly mocking.
His dick throbs, or at least it feels like it does, and before Mike knows what he’s doing, he’s caving and opening his pants to reach inside and to pull his dick out.
Good puppy.
The words echo around his head when he runs his hand roughly over his dick. Harvey’s smirk haunts him as he strokes himself at a furious pace. He knows that he will die of shame and embarrassment if someone catches him here, jerking off in a restroom like a pervert.
Like a pervert who likes to be called a puppy by his boss.
Mike bites his lip until he can taste the coppery tang of blood and his ears rush loudly. It’s louder than anything else, but not drowning out the mocking voice in his head.
Mike comes to the sound of white noise in his brain, echoes of Harvey praising him mockingly in front of everybody, the mental image of Harvey feeding him dog treats, bouncing off the inside of his skull. It’s so intense he feels like it’s deafening him.
He pants as he slowly returns to reality. Immediately, pure mortification fills him. It’s even worse than the embarrassment, he thinks as he cleans him up as much as he can and tucks his dick back into his pants.
~*+~~
When he finally dares to slink back to his cubicle and Louis’ briefs, nobody is paying special attention to him. He sits down and bows his head low, highlighter already in his fingers, when a flash of dark red peeking out from under a file catches his attention.
Curiously, he lifts the file to reveal a thin, elegant collar underneath. Attached to it is a post-it with a time scribbled on it in Harvey’s unmistakable handwriting.
Mike quickly rolls the collar up and lets it disappear in his bag while glancing suspiciously around. The leather is soft against his sweaty palms, like butter, threatening to distract him again.
Nobody is looking up to see him blush furiously, thankfully, and hopefully, nobody saw the collar on his desk. Harvey can be sneaky when he wants to be, he could have put the collar there without anybody being the wiser. Mike dares to take a breath of relief and tries to focus back on his work and not the interested twitch deep in his stomach.
It could be worse, he figures.
Louis could have left him a saddle or something.
The thought makes him shudder almost violently. He thinks of the post-it in his bag instead.
Harvey doesn’t know what Mike did in the restroom. As far as Harvey is concerned, Mike is strictly embarrassed by getting called a puppy, not aroused.
He’s sure Harvey won’t apologize for his analogy, but Mike knows he will show up at Harvey’s doorstep at the indicated time anyway, just because Harvey said so and Mike is curious as to what Harvey wants.
He can’t help it. Harvey can embarrass him and mortify him and give the impression not to care about him, and Mike will still wag his tail every time Harvey reached out to pat his head.
Apparently, he is a sucker for punishment.
Mike sighs.
Good puppy, indeed.