Page 197 of Untouchable

In answer, Parker takes Harp’s cock as deep as he can, forcing himself to gag once more. The spasm racks his body, and while it’s not a particularly pleasant feeling, there’s something deeply satisfying about the way Harp groans, about feeling his throat close around the head of Harp’s cock.

Still, though, it’d hardly be romantic if he accidentally made himself throw up, so he does ease off—only slightly though, as he begins to pick up speed.

* * *

Harp decides to trust Parker—maybea bit against his better judgment, but he doesn't really want to argue when Parker has Harp's cock down his throat.

He gives into it, letting Parker drag the pleasure out of him with every stroke, feeling an orgasm pooling molten in him but not chasing it immediately, the way he would if he was alone. He's done so much to ignore his own needs, to pretend like he never needs release when they're together, that it's almost difficult now to let himself just feel what he feels without worrying, without adding another layer on top, trying to make sure Parker is happy and having fun every millisecond that they're together.

* * *

Parker’snot even sure how he knows, but he can tell that Harp’s still holding back somehow, that there’s something he’s not letting go of. And though Harp hasn’t stopped him yet—except to give him the option to slow down—self-doubt seeps in, like cold groundwater. Harp has gone quieter, gotten stiller, and Parker can’t tell if he’s enjoying or enduring it. What if this isn’t what Harp wants? What if he wants something slower, or gentler, or what if Parker is simply just doing a bad job?

He pulls off once more, steadying Harp’s spit-slicked cock with his hand.

“Are—are you okay? Is this okay?” he asks, embarrassed at how needy he sounds.

"God yes," Harp breathes out. "It's fucking perfect, baby. It's the best thing I've ever—Jesus, you're perfect, Parker."

Parker hums around him, feeling more confident now.

"Everything, it's just what I wanted, oh my God..."

When Harp starts talking, it lights up something in the base of Parker’s skull, ignites a kind of desperation he’s never felt before, a need so strong it’s almost an ache.

“Ahh, keep going, please, Parker,” Harp moans. “Your mouth is so fucking sweet.”

Parker whimpers as Harp’s words send another bolt of desire through his body, and he begins to hump the bed in earnest now, grinding his cock against the sheets.

He’s using every trick he knows, now, employing his hands and fingers and mouth and tongue and throat to wring every bit of pleasure from Harp that he can.

“God when you do that it’s... fuck Parker... I can’t... please...” Harp gasps above him. He’s babbling now, barely coherent, and the wrecked quality of his voice makes Parker’s brain short out. His hips are moving on their own now, short, needy thrusts against the bed, his body craving an outlet for how fucking perfect it is to make Harp feel so good.

Harp’s fingers tangle in his hair again, pulling even tighter, and Parker moans desperately, wanting more as he continues to swallow down around Harp—

“God—you’re fucking perfect, Parker—that feels so good—wanna—make you feel like this—” Harp says. “I can’t wait to fill your tight little ass—”

Harp says something else, but Parker doesn’t even hear him, because he’s coming, short and hard and sudden, a wave of pleasure that crashes over him so intensely he thinks he might black out for a moment.

He’s stunned, but he doesn’t miss a beat as he keeps sucking Harp’s cock with abandon—it happened so quickly he’s not even sure Harp noticed, but once Harp had started talking like that, there was nothing Parker could do to stop it. He almost laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, that the promise of Harp fucking him and a little friction against a mattress is enough to make him come.

* * *

The dirty talkbecomes a feedback loop, ramping Harp's arousal up and making the things he says more intense. It makes it that much more real, that much more impossible to deny that he is here with Parker, that Parker is enjoying himself, and that Harp is allowed, in turn, to enjoy himself.

Even if Parker were fumbling and bad, Harp would be close now, but Harp is almost beyond pleasure as Parker seems to play him like an instrument with every stroke, every thrumming moan. Harp is lost to the sensation of it, to his own babbling, to the slick velvet of Parker's throat and the soft hair under Harp's fingers.

* * *

Parker beginsto come down from his own surprising orgasm, and he hears Harp once more, listening as he moans around Harp’s cock while Harp tells him the ways he wants to fuck him, to finger him, to blow him, all the ways he wants to make Parker feel good. Each word burns into his mind like a white-hot brand, and he knows he’ll be jerking off to them for a very long time.

He changes his pace slightly, moving a little slower now that he’s no longer frantic with need, making his strokes a little more intentional. Harp seems lost above him, which is exactly where Parker wants him to be, and he’d be more than happy to stay here, his mouth around Harp’s cock, all through the night and into the morning.

* * *

Parker slowsand stops using every trick in his arsenal to make Harp come—and something about this begins to tug the final thread for Harp.

Parker seems almost casual now as he strokes and licks, like he's in no hurry, like this is nothing profound and exactly where he belongs and abruptly Harp is scrabbling for something to hold onto, big hands curling into the sheets.

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