Page 230 of Untouchable

Parker sobers instantly.

The truth is, he hadn’t thought anything of Harp not saying I love you back to him—Harp was a little busy coming in Parker’s ass, after all. In the moment, he had been so sure of how he felt, so sure of how Harp felt, that it hadn’t seemed necessary. Parker could tell by the desperate way Harp had clutched at Parker, the raw edge in his voice when Harp called him baby, the hungry, urgent way Harp looked at him when they were tangled together.

Parker pulls himself up so he’s sitting back on his heels, his hands resting on his thighs. He looks somewhere in the vicinity of Harp’s chest, not quite able to meet his eyes.

“Look, Harp,” he says, as evenly as he can. “I didn’t mean to—say it to you that way. I mean, I do mean it. That I—y’know.”

Suddenly it’s much harder to eke the words out, and he blunders on.

“But… I mean, I know you’re not exactly… comfortable with this kind of thing. Like, hell, it took us forever just to both admit we wanted to be friends with each other.”

He draws in a deep breath, willing his confidence not to drain away, like dirty dishwater down a sink.

“So if you can’t say it, or don’t want to, or whatever, it’s… I mean, I can work with that. But I’d never be mad at you. You’re… you’re it for me, y’know? I don’t mind waiting.”

Even as he says it, an ugly little worry is starting to burrow into the base of his skull. How many times will Parker let this happen to himself? Fall madly in love with someone and bend over backwards, jump through all sorts of hoops, making whatever modifications to his happiness necessary to keep the other person close.

Because what if Harp doesn’t love Parker? What if he casts him aside in a few months, or a few years, just the way everyone else has? Just the way his mother had warned him about?

But then Parker glances up and sees the golden glow of the Christmas lights against the snow, and his confidence resolves itself. This isn’t Cole. This is Harp. Stoic and a little ornery, but, underneath the gruff exterior, the kindest, gentlest person Parker has ever known.

He looks down at Harp and smiles gently, if a little sadly, trying to assure Harp that Parker is telling him the truth.

* * *

"You’re it for me, y’know? I don’t mind waiting.”

Maybe Parker has no idea, but those words mean infinitely more to Harp than I love you ever could have, make him feel more understood, more content. The urgency and panic are gone immediately. This is something that doesn't have to be resolved tonight. This does not have to end with Harp getting screamed at, or anyone nursing their wounds.

"Thank you," Harp breathes out.

"You’re it for me. I don’t mind waiting.”The words echo and surround him and they're perfect. They're the words he's always been waiting to hear without knowing it. And now he doesknow.

Harp reaches up to lace his fingers with Parker's and then pulls Parker back down, pulls him so that they can be forehead to forehead again.

"You're perfect, you know," Harp says. It's as if his afterglow can begin now, as if it had been a toss-up as to whether or not his orgasm was going to cosmically take— and now that it has taken, Harp can allow himself to bask in it, to be adored by Parker, to be easy and natural again.

* * *

Parker can see Harp let go of something, as if some specter of doubt or fear or distrust has dissolved. He becomes lighter, more open, that softness appearing in his eyes once more.

Parker brings his finger to Harp’s lips, tracing the smile there.

“I’m not perfect,” he says. “But I’m tryin’ real hard.”

Relief washes over him, like the cool lap of the tide on a hot summer day, and he lays himself on top of Harp, letting Harp take his weight. Something Parker had said when he was vomiting up his feelings had seemed to resonate with Harp, and once more, he feels a certain rightness settle into place, as though, high above, some planet has shifted into alignment, locking the moment into place.

He lays his head down on Harp’s chest.

“That was… incredible,” Parker says, smiling faintly. “I’m glad you… didn’t let me seduce you all those times. I’m glad our first time was like this.”

Harp puffs a laugh. "You were worth waiting for, too." He strokes a hand down Parker's side. "I've never done anything quite like... that."

Parker’s not quite sure what Harp’s referring to, but somehow he understands all the same. He catches himself starting to drift off, and so he pushes himself up to his knees, groaning loudly with the effort. Harp looks at him curiously.

“I’m gonna get us cleaned up,” Parker says. Harp starts to move but Parker places his hand in the center of Harp’s chest, gently pushing him back down.

“Let me take care of you for once,” Parker says, winking. He winces as he gets up, his body already protesting from the rigorous fucking. He smiles with satisfaction, knowing he’ll be sore tomorrow and knowing he’ll love the reminder. He staggers into the bathroom and turns on the tap in the spacious bathtub.

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