Page 228 of Untouchable

"Yes,"Harp says, punctuating a deep thrust with the syllable. His breathing is rough and his whole body feels raw and he realizes that his orgasm has snuck up on him. "You're mine," he says, his muscles burning as he keeps up the pace, as he fucks into Parker and tries to balance a hundred things at once, the wash of sensations and white-hot pleasure and the continued pumping around Parker's cock, the slick friction of Parker's perfect ass.

"All mine, baby." He stoops again to suck a conspicuous mark under Parker's jaw, not caring what superficial damage he does, only caring about the way Parker's cock jumps in his hand when he does it, how the quality of his whining changes.

* * *

The words are too much,and all at one Parker is coming, his ass clenching tightly around Harp’s cock, his back arching up off the bed, his hands scrabbling desperately at the sheets above his head as if he’s clinging to the side of a cliff. He’s used to his orgasms totally obliterating any thought, but when he reaches the highest peak of his pleasure, his mind is suddenly lucid and calm, as though he’s standing in the eye of a storm.

Harp is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, he thinks. It feels less like a thought and more like a fact, ordained by something greater than himself, as true as the laws of physics. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together.

And then Parker comes crashing down the other side, panting and moaning and practically yelling himself hoarse as Harp milks him through what is undeniably the best orgasm of his life.

* * *

Harp usesthe crest of Parker's orgasm as an excuse to slow down. He's still not ready, even after all this, for the night to be over.

He realizes that the thought of it ending, of Parker ever going home, ignites something anxious in his chest—and there's no room for that in him right now. All he wants to feel is this fondness, this affection, this responsibility and care that is somehow, against all odds, not a burden—better than being alone and unmoored.

He slows completely and pulls out, sliding down the bed to lick up Parker's cum as the muscles in his abdomen tremble.

* * *

Parker lays on the bed,absolutely boneless, smiling with his eyes closed at the faintly ticklish sensation of Harp’s tongue tracing over his stomach, and it takes him a moment to piece together exactly what Harp is doing. It takes all his effort to open his eyes and prop himself up on his elbow, but he also desperately wants to watch this.

“Fuck,” Parker says dazedly. “That’s… really fucking hot.”

Something about it feels illicit and animal, and he likes the fact that Harp doesn’t even seem to notice if Parker is watching it or not. Harp isn’t putting on a show for Parker’s benefit—this is simply what he wants to do, as if he’s claiming ownership over something. Parker sighs and lets his head fall back, arching his torso up to meet Harp.

"I want you to turn over," Harp says, watching Parker watch him from between Parker's thighs.

Parker lets out a sound that's halfway between a moan and a squeak as he flips and gets to his knees.

"Not like that," Harp says gently. He wraps one arm around Parker's chest, pressing him down onto the mattress. He doesn't stop until Parker is pinned lightly, some of Harp's weight pressing him down and some balanced on Harp's free hand. He gently knocks Parker's knees together.

"Is this okay?"

“Y-yeah,” Parker says, nodding. He’s laying flat on his stomach, Harp on top of him, and he’s grateful that Harp doesn’t want him the way Parker had initially anticipated. He can envision a time when Harp fucks him from behind, on his hands and knees, but the position still has lingering associations of bad sex and worse relationships that Parker wants nowhere near this moment.

This, though, is entirely different. He feels completely covered by Harp, protected, as if Harp is shielding him from something.

* * *

Harp lineshimself up and sinks in again, sighing, pulling Parker to his chest even as he fucks him into the mattress.

This is what he needed: uninterrupted expanses of skin, a way to fill Parker deep without bunching him up, to take everything he needs from Parker's body in this final moment of unfurling orgasm, the last pulses of pleasure between them before he's forced to let go of this honey-slow and sweet segment of time that he dreads being nostalgic for, that he dreads being beyond his grasp in the present.

Harp wraps himself around Parker, hipping helplessly, babbling against the shell of Parker's ear.

"Baby, God, please—I'm gonna come, I'm—please, talk to me, baby," Harp begs, desperate for a renewed connection with Parker as his orgasm begins to roll over him.

* * *

It feelslike an electric charge pulsing through him as Harp’s words sink in, and Parker reaches behind himself inelegantly, clinging to Harp’s sides because he needs to touch him. He needs no encouragement, letting all the things he’s been thinking tumble out of his mouth.

“God, Harp, I want you to come in me—love the thought of you filling me up—having your cum inside me—” he gasps as Harp’s thrusts grow more and more urgent. “Wanna feel it slide out of me—want you to—mark me—oh, fuck—make me yours—oh, god, Harp—”

* * *

The words seemto carry a visceral weight and Harp pulses hard into Parker, squeezing him around the chest as he fucks down into Parker mindlessly, his heart suspended somewhere in between the two of them, no longer just Harp's, vulnerable and strange and uncomfortably open as Harp comes but so warm, so fulfilled, so ready for whatever happens next.

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