Page 221 of Untouchable

Parker closes his eyes once more, moving with Harp now, and the slow but relentless way Harp swallows down around him drives him wild. His thighs are trembling with the effort of keeping the pace, and something about not letting himself thrust into Harp’s mouth with abandon seems to heighten the sensation all the more.

He realizes, too, that he has begun to talk, half words and half gasps and moans, telling Harp how good it feels, how perfect and talented and warm and wet his mouth is, anything to articulate to him the way Parker feels like he’s coming entirely undone.

Parker makes a dismayed noise when Harp pulls off.

"I thought you said—"

"I want you to stand up and turn around," Harp says brusquely. "Is that okay?"

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Parker asks breathlessly as he slides off the counter and turns, pressing his ass back towards Harp like an offering. His mind feels hot and syrupy, and even just talking coherently requires a huge amount of effort.

"Not yet," Harp says, pressing his chest against Parker's back until Parker is bent over the counter. He puts his hands on Parker's hips and ruts slowly against him, sighing.

"I wanna eat you out," Harp says against the back of his ear. "Can I?"

“Oh, god, yes—” Parker manages to get out. “Please—” He shoves his hips back even further, angling himself to give Harp better access to every part of him. He practically sprawls himself across the counter, hardly noticing the cold of the smooth granite beneath him, and his body trembles with anticipation. It’s been a very long time since he’s been eaten out—and even then, unsurprisingly, every time Cole had been begrudging and reluctant.

He’s always loved it though, and when he imagines the kind of picture they would make—Harp kneeling behind him, his face buried in Parker’s ass, Parker arching wantonly as his cries fill the house—his legs go a little weak.

* * *

Harp kissesdown Parker's spine, hands tracing his sides until he's finally at the cleft of Parker's ass.

He's been looking forward to this for far too long to rush it, and Parker is all endless spans of taut, soft skin. He wants to kiss every inch of Parker, to worship him from every angle, and this is perfect. Parker offers him unfettered access, gasping and moving under his hands.

Harp steadies him and kneels easily on the soft kitchen mat, kissing the skin just above Parker's hole then just underneath, spreading him slightly and then making a sound that comes out more shocked than he intended.

“Jesus, I should’ve known you’d be waxed, and yet, here I am—”

“Don’t tease me,” Parker whines through a smile.

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect,” Harp says. He pulls the jock strap down to kiss Parker’s balls, pressing kisses into his thighs until Parker is squirming, gasping.

Finally, he presses the first kiss against Parker's hole. It's almost chaste for a moment and Parker hums—but it's immediately not enough, and Harp paints a stripe across his ass with the fat length of his tongue.

Parker lets out a harsh, almost outraged noise. “Harp—please—I need—”

Harp drags his tongue over Parker's hole again, memorizing every sound out of Parker's throat, every twitch of his muscles.

Harp starts by tonguing gently in the same pattern, tracing the length of Parker's ass from the base of his balls to the cleft, using the thick middle of his tongue, moving slowly. He responds to Parker's begging, though, by picking up the pace and drawing faster, firmer strokes over him.

“Harp—god—oh my god—fuck, how are you so good at—oh my god—” Parker babbles, his hips beginning to move in rhythm with Harp’s tongue. “Fuck—oh, Harp—thank you—god—oh—”

He goes temporarily speechless as Harp’s tongue presses inside him, letting out a long, grateful sigh, like he’s just been rescued from a desert isle.

Parker grinds back against his face and Harp shudders. He presses into Parker, spreading and steadying him and trying to maintain the loose grip he has on sanity. He's so turned on, Harp feels like he must be leaking precum in his jeans—but he couldn't care less.

He's waited for this—earned it—and he takes his time, alternating firm thrusts with long, languid licks.

Parker is smooth and slick and hot and everything Harp has been dreaming of. Harp’s cock feels heavy and uncomfortable, pressing against the fly of his jeans as he kneels, but the denial of contact means every sensation is heightened.

"Jesus, Parker," he says in between kisses. "You're so sweet, baby."

* * *

Parker’s makingall sorts of pornographic noises, and he hardly even cares. What matters is Harp’s tongue in his ass, Harp’s mouth hot against him, and, now, Harp’s hand sliding up the inside of his thigh to his cock, stroking him through the fabric. Parker makes a noise that could be agony or ecstasy, caught between rocking back against Harp’s mouth and thrusting forward into his hand.

"Fuck, Harp, if you keep that up I'm going to—"

But apparently that's exactly what Harp intends to do, and he manages to fumble Parker's cock out of his jock strap—and he's coming already, thrusting helplessly into Harp's hand, clenching and pulsing as Harp keeps licking against him through his orgasm. Parker goes boneless against the kitchen counter and Harp steadies him easily as he makes little outraged, high noises, still coming. Harp still doesn't relent, kissing Parker, stroking him until he's whining and overstimulated.

Harp straightens out, tracing Parker's hips with his hands. "I thought I could take you upstairs to bed," Harp says gently. "Unless you want a break."

It takes Parker a moment to recover enough to use his words.

“That was… one hell of an orgasm,” he says with a shaky laugh, propping himself up on his elbow. Harp seems to realize that Parker has gone entirely jelly-limbed, because he pulls Parker up against him, wrapping his arms around him tight and taking all of Parker’s weight. Parker hums appreciatively, letting himself be held.

“I think, though,” he says, his voice still a little syrupy, “the time it takes us to get from here to the bedroom is enough of a break, especially if it means less time until your cock is buried in my a—oh—” Parker laughs as Harp scoops him up as though Parker weighs nothing, holding him like Parker is a blushing bride.

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