Page 105 of Untouchable

Harp can barely concentrate on Parker's mouth, too distracted by the hand and its potential to ruin him.

Harp makes an outraged sound, breaking their kiss. He never used to be this sensitive, and yet here he is, practically bucking Parker off of the couch the first time his fingers graze a nipple.

He catches Parker's mouth in a kiss again, trying to cover for the way he faltered, but he knows Parker has noticed.

Parker pulls back, frowning down at Harp as he slides his hand back up to Harp’s shoulder.

“Sorry—” he says, his voice ragged. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

"It's good," Harp insists quickly. "I'm just really sensitive. Do you not remember... ?"

Jesus, why is he bringing that up? Despite the fact that Harp's hard cock is currently pressed conspicuously into Parker's belly, it's still mortifying for Harp to think about that day he was absolutely unable to control himself on Parker's table.

“Remember what?” Parker asks.

"That day you worked on my chest," Harp says, looking down and absentmindedly rubbing the muscle where Parker's hand had been a moment ago. "And I... y'know, I got hard and then you ended the session?"

Parker laughs.

“Oh my god,” he says. “I’d forgotten all about that. I didn’t realize—you know that happens a lot, right? Well, I mean not a lot but it happens, and—”

“I figured. And you handled it well. Your reaction was the only thing that kept me from hanging myself the minute you were out the door."

Parker cocks his head, surprised and concerned.

"That's a joke," Harp clarifies quickly. "Well, sort of."

Parker's hand is already making its way back to the place where his shirt is open, like the thing has a mind of its own.

A thought occurs to Harp, and as much as he just wants to lean into the sensation of Parker's fingertips playing across his chest, he now has a question that he's too curious about to ignore.

"That day were you really already thinking of me like... this?" Harp asks gently. He's curious—not accusatory—and the thought that Parker may have actually wanted him that day sends an illicit thrill through him.

Parker lets out a throaty laugh as his fingers seek out Harp’s nipple once more.

“Can I plead the fifth?” he asks, but continues when Harp starts to say something. “I was trying not to. I mean, I’m in such a different headspace when I’m working, you know. But, yeah, like... pretty much from the second session, once I stopped being so goddamn intimidated by you... I, um. Yeah. Mindy made fun of me so much, but I tried to pretend... that I didn’t feel... you know.”

It makes Harp's whole brain light up, the idea that Parker had wanted him—even if it was in some compartmentalized part of himself that Parker didn't dare access during their sessions.

It changes the entire memory, reframes it in a way that makes it... almost silly.

Christ, Harp had stressed about that appointment, about alienating Parker or scaring him away. He'd still assumed Parker was straight at that point, figured the kid was creeped out to be working on some recluse with a hard-on who might murder him at any moment.

Still, he's furtively returned to the memory since then, imagining it was someone else's hands instead of Parker's—a lover who actually wanted him, wanted to turn him on. Couldn't see what was right in front of my face, Harp realizes, even though it's near-impossible to believe.

In his reverie, Harp missed the fact that Parker now has Harp's flannel unbuttoned to the belly.

“Here—”Parker mumbles, and he less-than-gracefully guides Harp to lay on the couch—it’s more of a shove, really. Soon Parker is laying on top of Harp, his body draped out over him, and Parker wastes no time in kissing down Harp’s neck.

Harp isn't sure if Parker still wants to play by the rules or if he's ready to blow right past them.

Harp isn't sure, if Parker has chosen to just do whatever he wants to Harp right now, that he has the willpower to stop him.

But being on his back certainly makes him feel like their actions have taken a new trajectory, and Harp finds himself abruptly on a knife's edge of arousal. Everything together, Parker's weight on him, the friction of their bodies, the confident way that Parker moves him around, coalesces and Harp is throbbing, having a hard time keeping his lungs full of breath.

I've been celibate for a fucking decade,Harp thinks desperately. Do I even remember how to do any of this?

His anxiety is interrupted by the sensation of Parker's tongue on the sensitive skin of his neck.

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