Page 106 of Untouchable

This is still just kissing, he decides. They're still playing by the rules, even if Parker seems to be on the lookout for loopholes.

* * *

Parker isdesperate to explore Harp’s body in a way he’s never allowed himself to before.

“This okay?” Parker mumbles into Harp’s neck as he worries and sucks on the skin there. He’s terrified Harp will push him away, will tell him to slow down, but he also knows himself, knows that he’s pushy, knows that once he’s hard, he’s like a heat-seeking missile, all his energy focused in with laser sharp precision to guide him to an orgasm.

And he doesn’t want Harp to feel used. Doesn’t want Harp to feel like Parker’s agreeing to boundaries and then walking all over them.

"It's—Jesus, Parker. It's perfect," he says, and Parker smiles at his slightly strangled tone of voice.

And with that, Parker gives himself permission to let go, focusing on his senses instead of his thoughts, noticing the heat of Harp’s body, the way Harp’s breath hitches, the way his own clothing suddenly feels claustrophobic, practically begging to be ripped off.

Parker undoes the last few buttons and pulls Harp’s shirt aside, exposing his torso, and braces his hands against Harp’s chest. He ducks his head and brings his mouth to Harp’s nipple, brushing his lips over it and letting out a puff of hot air as he begins to knead Harp’s chest with his hands, stroking him and letting his hands explore Harp’s muscles.

* * *

Harp shudders underneath Parker.The situation is completely novel but all at once familiar. After all, Harp realizes, this isn't the first time he's been on his back as Parker lavishes attention on him—it's just the first time it's been like this.

It gives the situation a strange quality, and Harp realizes how many things Parker has come to mean to him in such a short time. Parker is his ally, healer, helper, friend, and now... Whatever this is, Harp thinks. This is the first time that Parker has been all things to him at once, working his hands expertly over Harp's muscles.

Something about the realization allows Harp to relax, to overcome the feeling of splitting at the seams, of wanting someone so badly that he was out of control. He melts under Parker the same way that he does when he gets comfortable during their appointments.

Harp stops holding back, and as Parker grazes his nipple a second time, he lets himself moan at the sensation.

Harp bucks and arches through the gentle attention that Parker pays to his chest. It's astonishing that licking such a small part of Harp's body could send him into full-body waves of pleasure, but, well, here we are, Harp thinks.

He knows he's tipping his hand here, showing Parker exactly what kind of effect he has on Harp, exactly how turned on he is, even though Harp has insisted that they don't go beyond kissing tonight. He finds he doesn't care.

Harp just wants more, Parker's mouth on more of his body, more of Parker's weight pressing down on him, more of Parker in general, in any way that Harp is allowed to have him.

* * *

The noise Harpmakes goes straight to Parker’s cock, and it’s all the encouragement he needs. He takes Harp’s nipple into his mouth, alternating sucking on it and swirling his tongue across the tip, and he remembers how he’d felt when Harp was kissing along his hand—as though Harp was exploring Parker’s body for Harp’s sake, not his.

And this is similar, Parker realizes, because he’s not just doing what he thinks will make Harp feel good. It’s for himself, too. Parker is desperate to cover every square inch of Harp’s large, solid frame with kisses, to run his mouth over every place he can find.

Parker moves to lavish attention on his other nipple and he reaches a hand to the back of Parker's neck. Parker lets out a little noise as Harp’s touch sends shivers tingling down his back. He interprets it as encouragement, and he sucks harder as he runs his hand down Harp’s chest. He shifts to the side, his leg sliding between Harp’s as he grinds his cock against Harp’s thigh, and begins to trail his hand lower, running over Harp’s stomach and to his hips, ghosting across the hard ridge of his erection.

* * *

The touch isa question and Harp hates himself for how difficult it is to find the answer.

He's moaning, bucking, letting himself get completely strung out—and it feels good to let go. He's needed this for longer than he's willing to admit, and everything he's been avoiding seems to tumble out of him as Parker drags his fingertips over Harp's hips, back towards his groin for a second pass.

The question will be asked again—and if Harp doesn't answer it one way or another, Parker is going to do it for them.

He's been this desperate before, had this much to lose before, and he'd given in—again and again.

Harp wants better with Parker. He wants to do it right this time, if they're going to do it at all.

"We can't," Harp whispers, fracturing his own heart in fifteen different places.

* * *

Parker can’t help it—helets out a frustrated little whimper as he slides his hand back up to the warm expanse of Harp’s stomach. He collapses down onto Harp, letting him take Parker’s full weight, and rests his cheek against Harp’s chest. His heart is hammering madly, and he feels almost out of his mind with need.

“Sorry,” he says softly. “Maybe we should, um, stop again for a little bit.”

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