Page 111 of Untouchable

“What if I said it wasn’t for you?” Parker says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, slowly rubbing Harp’s cock. “What if I said it was because I thought it was hot to get you off for purely selfish reasons?”

* * *

If gettingParker off hadn't been so satisfying, Harp would have a hard time saying no right now. But he still has the taste of Parker on his tongue and he can't think of a moment since his car accident that he's felt so peaceful.

He sighs and moans and presses into Parker's palm one last time before untangling himself and rolling to his side, forcing Parker over with his bulk so that they're side by side and facing each other.

Parker's suggestive smile is gone. He almost looks like he's going to cry. Harp pulls him close, stroking his hair, kissing his neck.

"If, in a few days or a week or however long, it's still your purely selfish fantasy to get me off, then I promise not to deny you," he says gently. "But then. Not now."

“Did I—do something?” Parker asks—and Harp realizes at once that if Parker’s most recent ex was a self-centered jerk, Harp’s behavior is probably setting up all sorts of alarm bells. Harp squeezes him, his large hand cupped around the back of Parker’s head, pulling Parker into the crook of his neck.

“No, not at all,” Harp practically coos to him. “You’re perfect. Everything about you is perfect. Will you trust me when I say this is what I want?”

“This?” Parker asks, his voice muffled against Harp’s chest.

“Yes,” Harp says. “Just this.”

Parker lets out a long breath and nods.

“Okay,” he says.

* * *

He relaxesinto Harp’s arms, allowing himself to be held, and after a moment, that first promise of panic begins to fade. He hooks his leg over Harp’s hip, clinging to him once more, and listens to Harp’s heartbeat thudding in his chest.

It’s scary, he realizes, to let something like this go unreciprocated. With Harp, though, he realizes this is not a debt to be paid, a scale to be balanced again in the future. It’s simply something they’ve shared together, and, quite possibly, Harp has gotten just as much out of the experience as Parker has.

A novel thought, and something that Parker isn’t quite ready to accept.

But he’s willing to try.

Sleep is tugging at the edge of his consciousness, and all at once he’s too tired to worry about it.

I can trust him, he thinks, his thoughts syrupy, as he fights back a yawn.

“Thank you, Harp,” he murmurs. He’s not even sure if it’s loud enough for Harp to hear. “For being so… good to me.”

* * *

Parker fallsasleep with Harp stroking concentric circles on his back.

Harp isn't ready to sleep because this... This is unexpected.

There is a steadiness in holding Parker, like it's something Harp has waited his entire life to do, like he was born to do this, to wrap himself around this person and care about him.

Yes, Parker has a big, wide world of life that doesn't include Harp. But Parker is here with Harp tonight, not anyone else.

He is allowed a different access when Parker sleeps, and Harp finds himself watching him in the dim light of the dying fire. If only he'd been able to see Parker sleeping before they'd met, Harp would've had a completely different impression of him.

Still and unguarded, Parker is not a professional or a worker or someone so concerned with making people happy and proud of him. His brow is unfurrowed, his mouth neutral with the ghost of a real smile—not the plastic thing he puts on for patients. Parker looks fragile, almost, as he slips into sleep, and the desire to protect him, to take care of him surges dangerously in his chest like an out-of-control tide after a hurricane.

Harp lets himself doze for a few minutes, but when he wakes, his neck hurts from the awkward position on the couch.

He puts a hand on Parker's waist. "We should go to bed."

Parker hums and doesn't open his eyes. "Hm. Yep."

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