Page 192 of Untouchable

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Parker letshimself kiss and be kissed, and he finds it shockingly easy to let go of everything but the present moment—together with Harp at The Stewart.

He doesn’t think about the holiday, or how his mother is upset that he’s not coming home. He doesn’t think about his past, or Harp’s. He doesn’t think about all the missteps he’s made along the way, how somehow, despite it all, he’s managed to end up here. He’s simply present. Alive and happy and full of love, his heart rate quickening as Harp’s hands grip him tightly.

It occurs to Parker that, despite all they’ve been through, despite how much ground they’ve covered emotionally, this is the first time they’ve simply kissed on a bed. It’s almost funny, and he smiles into their kiss. Harp feels like a concrete, essential part of Parker’s life, even though he’s only been in it for a few months, and their first kiss was just a few weeks ago. He can’t imagine his life without Harp anymore, and the thought is exhilarating and intoxicating and would make him afraid if he weren’t so goddamn happy.

He parts his legs, letting Harp fall between his thighs, and relaxes even deeper into the soft mattress. He loves the feeling of Harp on top of him, almost—but never quite—crushing him, and he wraps his arms around Harp, sliding his hands up under Harp’s flannel to the hot expanse of skin of Harp’s low back.

* * *

Harp doesn't tryto fight it or slow down this time. Finally, he's got Parker on a bed and he doesn't have to be cramped or constrained by a couch or a chair. He lets some weight fall on Parker and deepens their kiss. He wants to be close to Parker, wants to make him come again—and he's less afraid of his own want this time.

It's odd that opening up has this effect, but the last layers are gone between them.

Parker knows, now, what Harp is afraid of and why he needs to go slow. Harp knows that he could stop them, could interrupt even the most intense moment and Parker would be able to forgive him—after some light pouting, obviously.

Harp supports his weight with one hand and with the other, he adeptly undoes the buttons of Parker's shirt—The Shirt, he remembers. Harp follows his hands with his lips, his tongue, kissing his way down Parker's chest until his throat is resting against the front of Parker's hard-on.

Parker wriggles and moans as Harp kisses the sensitive place just above the waistband of his boxer briefs. When Harp laughs, the sound must vibrate through his throat against Parker’s cock because he throbs hard and whines. Parker twists a hand in Harp’s hair, shivering with anticipation as his shirt falls open and the cooler air hits his chest.

Harp inches the waistband down Parker's hips, appreciating the contrast in texture between bare, smooth skin and hair and cotton and flannel. Parker is pulsing hard, and it's still difficult to believe that he could get this way for Harp, needy and wanting like something out of a dream.

“Wait—” Parker gasps as Harp begins to pull his underwear off. Harp’s head snaps up in panic but Parker cups his face, pulling him back up on top of Parker. “I don’t—not yet—I want—”

"Yeah," Harp says, pressing a kiss into Parker's thigh and then letting himself be guided up. "Of course, baby. You okay?"

* * *

“Yeah—I’m good,”he says. “Just—you—ah—”

His thoughts are getting all tripped up again, and he pulls Harp in and kisses him. He’s afraid to ask for what he wants, afraid he’ll be rejected, afraid he’ll make Harp uncomfortable by insisting on something again and again and again. What he really wants, more than Harp’s mouth on his cock or Harp’s fingers in his ass again, is Harp—unrestrained access to Harp’s body, to be able to see and feel and kiss and touch every inch of him.

And then, Harp puts a hand under the small of Parker's back and scoops him up, rolling them so that their positions are reversed and Harp is on his back. Parker grins down at him, wondering how Harp read his mind.

Harp pulls him into a languid kiss. "Show me what you want," he says, when they part.

“Are—are you sure?” Parker asks, a little breathlessly. His heart is hammering in his chest with longing, with excitement, with anticipation. “What if—what if you don’t want to—”

"Then I'll tell you," Harp says. "Or tell me what you want... just... gimme something, baby."

There’s something in Harp’s voice that Parker hasn’t heard before, a kind of urgency, a kind of pleading, and Parker inhales sharply. Harp is handing him the reins for once, and Parker shivers happily as the realization sets in.

He sits back, letting his weight rest directly on Harp’s cock, heavy and hardening beneath him, and looks down at Harp, drinking in the sight of Harp below him, the way Harp’s pupils are blown wide, the way his hair is wild already from Parker’s hands, the strong lines of his neck, sloping down, hidden within the soft folds of his worn flannel.

Parker licks his lips and smiles crookedly down at Harp. He’s been pushing the pace every time they’ve been together, but now that he can do whatever he wants, he finds that he wants to go excruciatingly slow—he can’t stand the thought of missing out on a single moment, a single inch of Harp’s body.

Still seated firmly on Harp’s cock, Parker slowly begins to undo the buttons of Harp’s shirt, and when he reaches the last one, he pulls Harp’s shirt open, revealing his chest. Parker shrugs out of his own flannel, tossing it aside, and slowly snakes his body down against Harp’s, so their torsos are pressed together, drinking in the feeling of Harp’s skin against his own as he brushes his lips against Harp’s ear.

“Take your shirt off,” he whispers, practically purring. “Then take my underwear off.”

* * *

"Jesus," Harp breathes out, his cock pulsing like the words were electricity applied directly to his groin.

Harp struggles out of the shirt, tossing it to the floor and then hooks his hands into the elastic of Parker's underwear. It feels sacrilegious to take them off and discard them so fast, but he's not about to say no to Parker when he orders Harp around in that tone of voice.

Parker makes a ragged noise when Harp yanks his boxer briefs down his thighs. His cock bounces free, and he wriggles out of them. Harp tosses the underwear aside, and while they’re still sitting up, Parker takes a moment to grind against Harp’s lap.

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