Page 109 of Untouchable

He reaches between their bodies, stroking the inside of one of Parker's thighs but not reaching any higher. Parker sucks a hissing breath and looks up at Harp with a question in his eyes.

"Let me get you off," Harp says, the request low and rough and pleading. He feels almost ashamed as the words are out of his mouth, feeling crude and all wrong juxtaposed with Parker's sweetness.

“But—you said—we should—”

Parker’s words come out garbled, half-formed and molten. It’s clear that he’s desperate for this, but even as turned on as he is, there must be a distant, removed part of his brain that’s still respecting the lines Harp has set down. Harp adores him for that.

"I want to if you'll let me," Harp says, rushed. "And that'll be the end for tonight. I promise."

“Y-yeah—yes—oh, god, please—yes—fuck—”

Harp needs no more prompting, raking his hand higher from its place on Parker's thigh until it rests over the shape of his cock.

When Harp traces it, he reaches a spot that's warmer and barely damp and he realizes with a thrill that rolls through him from head to toe that Parker's body is leaking, straining. He was going to tease Parker, to try and draw this out and enjoy it, but he realizes that it would be unnecessarily cruel.

Harp sits back a little, kneeling between Parker's thighs, and he inches the sweatpants down to expose the lowest parts of Parker's belly. His stomach and hips are taut and warm and it takes everything in Harp's power not to steal a kiss—but if he gets his face anywhere near Parker's groin, he's not sure he'll be able to resist kissing Parker all over.

Parker groans and hips up, apparently not pleased with Harp's progress, and suddenly the sweatpants are as far down as they'll go on his thighs, his cock bouncing free.

It's pale and flushed at the tip, as if some master artist had taken great pains to make sure that every inch of Parker would be just as beautiful as the next.

* * *

Parker gaspsas the relatively cold air meets the skin of his cock—it’s not even an unpleasant sensation, but it’s a sharp reminder of the fact that he is here, Harp is here, and they are really doing this.

His eyes half-closed, Parker watches Harp watch him. He’s so fucking desperate to be touched, but there’s also something wonderful about seeing Harp above him, so fierce and yet so careful, brow furrowed in concentration as though Harp is studying some precious work of art. Parker knows that—trusts that—Harp will take care of him, will give him everything he needs and more, and so Parker tips his head back and shuts his eyes, willing himself to give up control, to let Harp guide them.

* * *

Feelinga sense that’s a little like wonder, Harp drags the pad of his thumb, smearing precum over Parker’s skin. Parker throbs in his hand, arching against him and leaking more. Without thinking, Harp gathers a bead of it on the pad of his thumb and then sucks it away, savoring the taste of Parker.

When Parker groans, Harp looks up and realizes that Parker is watching him. Instead of being disgusted or horrified, though, Parker looks pleased. Harp shoulders himself up to kiss Parker gently. As he captures Parker’s mouth again, Harp moves adeptly to take him by the base, stroking him slowly with a hot, spit-slicked hand.

Parker issues a broken moan, sounding almost outraged from the first full stroke. He hips off the couch, thrusting into Harp’s grip—and Harp allows Parker to fuck into his hand for a few beats, as hard and as fast as he wants.

The sight is almost too much to bear, and even though he’s not being touched, Harp feels pressure and insistence continue to build in his cock. He does his best to shut down his own need, but it’s impossible not to think about what the future might bring if this all isn’t a dream, what Parker would look and sound like right now if Harp hadn’t slowed their progress.

“God, you’re perfect,” Harp says in a voice like gravel.

* * *

“Harp—”Parker says, sounding completely wrecked.

He feels wrecked, too, from Harp’s hand on him, from seeing Harp’s eyes flutter shut as he tasted him, from spending the last however many hours or days or weeks buffeted about by the highest highs and lowest lows of unrequited want.

Not unrequited,he thinks. Because here they are.

He can’t hold himself back any longer. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes, and lets his body move with abandon, his hips snapping up in sharp thrusts to meet the friction of Harp’s hand. He can feel himself on the brink of orgasm, and his eyes fly open once more, finding Harp’s steadying gaze.

“Please—oh, fuck—I’m close—” Parker says, and he sounds as distraught as he feels, like he might never be able to find his way back down from the heights of this night.

* * *

“Then relaxand let me get you off,” Harp says in as close to a purr as his deep voice will allow. Parker stops trying to make words and lets out a shuddering sigh.

Harp lets himself be swept by the flow of the moment, by their bodies moving together towards a quiet, safe, pleasurable end for Parker. Something thrums in his chest that's adjacent to love, maybe. Just as foreign, but not love exactly.

Trust,he realizes. He trusts Parker and he knows Parker trusts him.

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