Page 299 of Untouchable

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There are no words left,and no words needed. In answer, Parker flings himself into Harp’s lap, wrapping his arms around Harp’s neck, laughing and crying and kissing him all at once—and it feels so wonderful, so right, to be back in Harp’s arms that Parker knows he’s made the right choice.

Because this is what love is. It’s not knowing every step along the path, it’s trust that they’ll take each one as it comes. It’s not the promise to keep things as they are now, but a commitment to grow together, to learn and struggle and adapt and move forward, hand in hand. Even when it’s hard and messy. Especially when it’s hard and messy.

Harp knows Parker to his core, and he knows Harp. There are still details left to learn—Harp’s least favorite vegetable, if he ever broke a bone as a kid, if he’s afraid of dying. But there is time enough to learn these things, and Parker looks forward to it. But above all, he knows Harp’s soul, knows how gentle and thoughtful and fiercely protective he is, knows that, with Harp, he is safe, he is loved, he is admired.

He can be whole without Harp, he knows, but he wouldn’t want to be. Harp is his sun, illuminating all his colors, chasing away his shadows, and coaxing fragile tendrils of hope up from the soil of his heart. He knows he can never put any of this into words, and won’t even bother trying, but he hopes that somehow, in some way, Harp will hear it in the beat of his heart, see it etched in the freckles on his cheeks, feel it in the way Parker touches him.

* * *

Harp wantsto kiss Parker in every way that someone can: a happy kiss, a weeping kiss, a kiss of relief—and they break only to breathe and laugh and wipe the tears off their faces. Having Parker in his lap feels to Harp like having a piece of himself back. The weight of him, the reality of Parker in his arms is just as too-good-to-be-true as it has been all along, and Harp knows he will never get used to it, will never stop being in love—falling in love with Parker.

Relief seems to gain momentum until it changes into something else, transfiguring as they kiss until all there is left between them is warmth and want. Harp needs to be closer, needs to hold Parker against his body.

"I need you so bad," Harp says quietly into Parker's ear with a voice that's gruffer than he meant it to be. He still feels shaky, like if he speaks too loud he'll break some spell and none of this will be true—but he will never hesitate with Parker again, won't hold himself back because he's afraid. "I need to take you upstairs, and I need to take off all your clothes. Can I do that, baby?"

“Yes—” Parker gasps. He scrambles off Harp’s lap and nearly yanks him up out of the chair. “But only if I can take off all yours.”

Harp laughs, lacing his fingers through Parker’s. He feels like he never wants to let Parker go again, like it's impossible that just a minute ago he was so uncertain and now he has no doubts. Parker leads them up the stairs and it feels like the longest the trip has ever taken Harp. He only lets Parker get through the doorway before Harp is on him, pinning him against the wall into a hungry, confident kiss that does nothing to sate the increasing desperation Harp feels as his blood pumps faster.

"God, I love you. I'm sorry it took so long to say it," Harp says—but even as the words are out of his mouth, he realizes it has only been days since Parker said what they both knew was true. Time has moved so fast in some ways and so slow in others. "I love you," he says again, and it feels good on his mouth, the way it should've felt before, the way it's supposed to feel, he knows now.

“It’s okay,” Parker gasps. “I’d rather—you wait until you were sure—to say it.” He hooks his leg up around Harp’s thigh and pulls Harp’s face to his for another crushing kiss. “And I love you too—so fucking much.”

Harp leans into Parker, encouraged by his movements, letting more weight fall onto Parker as Harp lifts his chin and stoops. He kisses under Parker's jaw and down his neck, behind his ear, while his hands roam Parker's sides, his thigh.

"It still doesn't seem like it could be real," Harp admits in between kisses. "I know it is. I know it is. But I never thought I'd have someone like you in my life."

“I didn’t know people like you even existed,” Parker says, laughing softly as Harp gently nips at the skin of his neck. Harp cradles his thigh with one hand and slides the other down to Parker’s ass. Parker lets out a little yelp—surprise and delight all at once—as Harp picks him up, keeping him pinned against the wall. He locks his legs around Harp’s waist and his weight feels like next to nothing.

“Let’s get naked and never get dressed again,” Parker says.

"Let's burn the clothes," Harp says, nodding emphatically.

He walks Parker over to the bed easily and laughs as Parker splays out, putting his arms over his head and waiting for Harp to undress him. Harp wastes no time, pulling off the scrub top and the shirt beneath, stooping to kiss down Parker's chest.

* * *

Parker’salready hard and desperate, as though it’s been years instead of days since they were last together. He tries to remind himself that they have all the time in the world, that it’s okay to be patient, but he can tell already he’s fighting a losing battle. He closes his eyes and reaches up, grabbing onto the smooth wood of the headboard, losing himself in the feeling of Harp’s lips on him, the pleasant friction of his soft beard.

“God,” Parker sighs. “I think I’d die if I never have this again.”

* * *

"Then you never have to go without,"Harp promises. The more of Parker he kisses, the more he wants to kiss, tracing the shapes of Parker with his mouth, wanting to remember every ridge and dip. He lavishes attention on the soft skin just above Parker's navel before moving to his nipples.

Parker keeps his hands on the headboard and arches against Harp, groaning as Harp teases him, sucks hard. Parker flexes and the headboard creaks and no matter how tight Harp grips Parker or how much of him Harp kisses, it's not enough. He loves every inch of him, every patch of hair, the fresh and somehow warm scent of his skin that is so uniquely, distinctly Parker. Harp finds himself burying his face into the muscular crook of Parker's armpit, unashamed now of how much he wants to kiss him here, indulging himself.

Parker laughs.

“That tickles,” he says breathlessly.

“Do you want me to stop?” Harp says, his voice rumbling against Parker’s skin and making him squirm.

“No—,” Parker says. “I’m surprised you want to hang out there but I’m definitely—oh—not complaining.”

"God, it's just you—every part of you," Harp groans. "Fuck."

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