Page 155 of Untouchable

He wants to ask Harp why he won’t let Parker touch him or get him off, but he doubts this is a good time to bring it up, and besides, once he feels the knot in Harp’s neck from this angle, his brain clicks into massage therapy mood.

“Jesus,” he says under his breath as he palpates the knot.

“Bad?” Harp says, and Parker snorts.

“Uh, yeah, it feels like there’s a bag of gravel and a golf ball in here,” Parker says as he begins to warm up the area. “If I give you stretching exercises, would you do them?”

“Of course,” Harp says.

“Would you really?” Parker says, raising an eyebrow. He’s found that his clients, despite being well-intentioned, rarely if ever actually follow the self-care advice he gives them.

"If you remind me to, I will," Harp says. "Or wait—no—you have to send me a picture as a bribery, like with the water. Forget I said I'd do it for free. I absolutely will not."

“Oh, you liked that one?” Parker says with a crooked grin as he begins to work through the worst knot. “That can be arranged. What kind of pictures do you want? Like, maybe a picture of… my shoe? Or… my toothbrush? Or maybe Mindy flipping off the camera? I have a lot of those.”

"Not the Mindy one—I want a picture, not a panic attack," Harp says. "And I mean a selfie, you prick."

“A selfie of my—oh my,” Parker says, scandalized, as he moves fluidly to warm up the muscles on the front of Harp’s neck, which are just as tight and corded as the rest of them.

"You're insufferable. You know what I mean," Harp grumbles. "Though I'm not going to block you for... whatever else you want to send."

“Well,” Parker purrs, leaning low so his lips graze Harp’s ear. “I can think of… plenty of pictures… and videos… I’d like to send you.”

Just then, he grabs hold of the knot and performs a neat, brutal sternocleidomastoid release, and Harp nearly jumps off the bed, letting out a loud, undignified yelp.

“What the fuck was that—” Harp says, frowning at Parker, who smiles down at him beatifically.

“Just an SCM release,” he says, batting his eyelashes.

“Is this some kind of—payback for something?” Harp asks, outraged, as he rubs the muscle.

Parker looks at him sternly.

“It’s therapy,” he says. “It’s not supposed to be fun. Now hang on while I do the other side.”

“The other—” Harp starts to protest, but he allows Parker to perform the release on this side. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“I’m the best, actually,” Parker says, leaning over to plant a kiss on Harp’s forehead. “Move your neck now. Much better, right?”

Harp rolls his head, and Parker can see the relief on his face.

"You goddamned genius..."

“Told you,” Parker says as he lifts Harp’s head up to stretch it. “Do you trust me now?”

“Absolutely not,” Harp says, and Parker laughs.

“Okay, that’s fair,” he says. “And probably a good idea.”

He finishes stretching out Harp’s neck, and once the knots have lessened and the muscles feel looser, more pliant, Parker and Harp shift so Parker is curled up against Harp once more. This time, though, he keeps his hand on the outside of Harp’s shirt and his leg to himself. He has no idea what time it is—the days are so short now that four in the afternoon is as dark as midnight.

“You could stay,” Parker says softly. “If you wanted to. I mean, I know you have to get back to the dogs and stuff, but… yeah. The… the offer is on the table.”

He hopes Harp interprets his words correctly—an offer, and nothing more. Parker knows it’s unlikely that Harp will be able to spend the night, but he likes the thought of waking up to the soft, diffuse light of morning in Harp’s arms, likes the thought of providing for Harp the way Harp had provided for him in the snowstorm.

"Okay," Harp says easily. "Do you want me to go get your clothes out of the living room?"

“Wait,” Parker says, sitting up almost violently. He twists to look down at Harp. “You’re being serious?”

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