Page 84 of Untouchable

But now he sees what they mean. Harp is his client. But Harp is his friend, too. And there’s no point in denying, at this point, that he has a crush on Harp the size of the moon above them.

The proper thing, according to his textbooks, would be to sit up and scoot a respectful distance apart. The proper thing, actually, would have been to never let it get this far in the first place.

But Parker can’t bring himself to move—Harp’s warmth is too nice, Harp is too nice.

He is, after all, the first person who’s ever treated Parker like he really meant anything.

* * *

Somethingterrible in Harp makes him double down instead of backing off—because if Harp just keeps confidently touching Parker, letting him in his personal space, then naturally he'll project that this is normal for him and not weird or erotic at all... Right?

Harp adjusts his legs and Parker starts to sit up. Harp presses a hand in the middle of his chest to still him. "No, you're fine. I imagine you can see the stars from that position better, anyway. You warm enough?"

“I mean, I was,” Parker says, looking up at Harp through the fringe of his eyelashes. “Until you stole my hat.”

* * *

Parker knowshe should rein it in—there’s no way Harp can interpret what Parker is doing as anything but flirting, but he can’t seem to help himself. And he’s pleased that Harp doesn’t seem to necessarily want Parker to not be in his lap—more pleased than Parker even wants to admit to himself.

And the truth is, Parker is plenty warm, because heat is radiating from where Harp’s hand is on Parker’s chest and flowing all through his body. Parker puts his gloved hand on top of Harp’s to keep it there, trying to play it cool and knowing he’s probably failing miserably.

He never was much good at lying, after all.

Parker’s thankful that Harp has piled so many layers of clothing onto him—he hopes this will make it harder to see that his breath is tight and short. Last night on the couch, Parker had been altered enough that Harp’s touch had only felt luxurious, but now that he’s sober, he’s overthinking things, wondering if Harp knows, wondering if Harp knows he knows Harp knows, wondering if he’s being obvious, wondering if Harp is just humoring him, putting up with Parker’s silly little crush because it’s harmless, because it’s entertaining, because there’s nothing else to do.

Parker wants to entwine his fingers with Harp’s. He wants Harp to run his large, calloused hands through Parker’s hair. He wants Harp to lean down and kiss him.

Parker looks up at the sky. The moon is so bright it’s obscuring the fainter stars, but the night sky is still dazzling, unlike anything he’s ever seen. The moment feels precious, crystalline, a little snowflake’s worth of time, balanced on a fingertip, a breath away from melting.

* * *

To his credit,Parker is obviously very comfortable with casual affection. He doesn't seem to think twice about it when Harp touches him in any way, even if Parker doesn't initiate a lot of contact himself.

It's a relief, after a lifetime of being spurned or treated like he was too handsy or too abrupt. Or it would be a relief if it didn't make Harp's heart hammer in his chest like it's trying to free itself from his body. It's only worse when Parker lays a hand over his own and smiles up at Harp.

Is Blowjob Mountain because he thinks I'm coming onto him? Now that he thinks of it, it's clearly the most obvious and gentle interpretation of it. Maybe he'd mentioned it to Mindy, the way that Harp was obviously falling for him in some intense way, and then Mindy had run with the joke.

It makes sense.Parker is just waiting for Harp to make a move, probably, so that he can quietly and uneventfully tell Harp no. He's probably hoping I do it soon so that he can just get along with his life, Harp guesses.

This is what it's supposed to be like to fall for somebody, Harp thinks abruptly. He's never had an organic relationship with another man—always hookups, always something scheduled and decided on beforehand. Even with Cherry, they had discussed what they wanted from each other from the start as kids.

It's just a shame that it's with Parker—with someone who's so clearly wrong for him, just a caring friend who is more open than Harp is used to. In another world where they were right for each other, interested in each other, Harp would ask if he could kiss the man in his lap and then they would, joining for the first time in the moonlight, on a night both of them would never forget.

It's clear that Harp will never forget tonight. But when Parker gets a little older, gets on with his life, Harp thinks he's unlikely to spend any time reminiscing about it. Which is fine. Harp is meant to be a little stop on Parker's life journey, not a long-term safe harbor.

But Harp knows when he looks back, his memory will be just like this night: crystal clear, perfect, in sharp relief and surprisingly warm.

Harp focuses himself to stay in the moment, to appreciate the weight of Parker’s head in his lap and the warmth of his gloved hand over Harp’s.

* * *

Parker has never beengood at controlling his impulses, and right now it’s taking every bit of effort in his body not to sit up, straddle Harp, and kiss him until they’re both breathless.

It’s what he wants, of course—what the best case scenario of this night would be—but he knows it would ruin things. And he’d rather have this moment, soft and quiet and not quite enough, than to try for more and shatter it.

He closes his eyes, tightening his hand imperceptibly around Harp’s. His heart aches so sweetly, and he can’t believe a moment, a feeling, so wonderful can be this painful. He can’t remember ever wanting someone so badly, and he feels like he won’t survive this—Harp’s hand on his chest, Harp’s legs warm beneath his head, the crystalline clouds of their breath meeting and mixing like lovers.

Please, oh god, please—Parker thinks, pleading, praying for some kind of climax, some kind of resolution to the strange intensity of such a still moment—and, at the same time, hoping it never ends.

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