Page 173 of Untouchable

Parker adores the possessive, heated way that Harp is touching him, and he keeps writhing and grinding in Harp’s lap—it’s as much for his own benefit as for Harp’s. He feels like his body is moving of its own accord, pulsing with some secret music he can’t quite hear, and it’s intoxicating to be wanted like this, to feel fluid and daring and sexy, to be the object of someone’s desire. He loves, too, the way Harp is so needy, so unrestrained, in the way his hands rake over Parker’s ass.

* * *

Harp hadn't meantto increase the intensity like this, but it's like they've tapped into something he's not used to controlling, and he'd be fine with Parker coming just like this, grinding against his lap like it’s a competitive sport.

He's also suddenly and intensely focused on Parker's ass—the weight of him, the plumpness of his ass in contrast to the leanness of the rest of his body, and the way his skin bulges slightly above and below the elastic. There's something so erotic about it—having a thin layer between them still, but having unfettered access to Parker's perfect ass. Harp wants to stroke every inch of him, pushing his hand down Parker's spine and then glancing over the cleft of his cheeks.

Every bit of it is intoxicating, and for a moment Harp loses sight of pleasing Parker, doesn't want to move to do anything else. Without thinking, he slips a finger between Parker's cheeks and groans.

Parker cries out in surprise—and pleasure—when Harp’s hand grazes across his hole. It’s only an instant, but immediately he thrusts his ass back towards Harp’s hand, as if demanding more.

Harp slides down a bit in the chair and pulls Parker closer, positioning him just so on his lap and tilting Parker's hips down so that he can get better access to his ass. He gently traces the same path, watching Parker's face as his jaw drops open. He looks down at Harp like Harp has suggested something surprising and obscene.

And, Harp realizes, coming from him maybe it feels that way, at their current pace.

But goddamn, now that Harp understands that this is what Parker has been wearing under his clothes since Harp found him on the curb, he knows he won't be able to think of anything else until one of them comes.

"Is this okay?" Harp asks gently, dragging his hand slower this time.

* * *

“God—yes—”Parker gasps as Harp strokes over his hole again. He arches his back even more—almost involuntarily—and he realizes he wants this so bad he practically aches. He hadn’t even known this was on the table—and maybe it hadn’t been until today—but now all he can think about is the very real possibility of Harp’s fingers sliding inside him, of moving in Harp’s lap and fucking himself back against Harp’s hand, of being filled and claimed by Harp.

“Here—” he says breathlessly. He pulls back, twisting around and grabbing his jeans from where they lay discarded on the floor and fishing something out of the back pocket. He presses it into Harp’s hand. “Please don’t stop—”

"Baby, that's not what I mean," Harp says, gently, letting the packet drop between them without looking at it. "Just this..."

Parker bites his bottom lip gently and laughs. "It's not a condom." He grabs the packet again and hands it to Harp patiently. "Look at it."

Harp looks down at the packet in his hand and and starts to laugh when he sees what he’s holding—a little sachet of lube.

"You thought I was gonna take you cold-weather camping, but you wore a jockstrap and had lube in your jeans—what, just in case?" he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Parker says with a straight face. “I was a boy scout, you know. Be prepared and all that?”

Harp rolls his eyes and laughs.

“What are you waiting for?” Parker says. He takes the packet from Harp’s hand and pretends to consider it. “Or, I mean, if you’re not up for it you could always just… watch.” He cocks his eyebrow flirtatiously, but he doesn’t really want Harp to take him up on the offer. There’s something that definitely perks up inside of him at the prospect of performing for Harp, but he also feels a little bit like he’ll die if he doesn’t end up with at least some part of Harp inside him over the course of this trip.

* * *

Harp snapsthe package out of Parker's hand and catches it between his teeth, opening it at the corner to show Parker he's serious.

"Maybe later," he murmurs, before returning his mouth to Parker's neck.

The thought of that is much too much and Harp won't let himself dwell on it. He's starting to understand more about Parker the more they do this—starting to realize that it's okay to appreciate him, to be possessive of him, to give into his impulses. This is what Parker has been waiting for, has been encouraging, and for once Harp doesn't worry about slowing down.

He doles out the smallest dab of lube onto one finger tip, sets the packet down, and slips his finger back between Parker's cheeks. He just wants to feel Parker at first, to understand this new gift he's been given. He has to savor it.

* * *

Parker letsout a soft noise as he feels Harp’s hand on him once more, and he sinks forward, nuzzling his face against Harp’s neck. He bites at the skin there as Harp strokes over his hole again with a pressure that’s both wonderful and infuriating. Parker needs something to bring his focus to, something to keep him from getting so worked up he starts rubbing his ass back against Harp’s hand like he’s in heat, and so he brings his attention to the place where Harp’s neck meets his shoulder, sucking lightly at the skin there.

Harp groans, encouraging Parker to keep worrying the sensitive skin at his neck as he traces Parker's hole. Parker's breath hitches and his hips buck.

"Please," Parker finally breathes out, and Harp reaches for the packet again, slicking his finger and finally taking mercy on Parker, pressing in as gently as he can while kissing Parker's chest sweetly.

“Oh, fuck,” Parker moans softly as Harp’s finger slides inside him. It’s been over a year, he realizes, since he’s been fucked or even fingered—he loves it, but it’s not something he does alone, when getting off tends to be much more perfunctory. Just one of Harp’s fingers is a stretch, and he bites down hard as if that will take away the sting. Harp makes a noise—Parker can’t tell if it’s pain or pleasure—and Parker releases quickly, rolling his head to the side and letting out a slow breath, willing his body to relax.

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