Page 135 of Untouchable

You really get verbose when you're lying to yourself, asshole.

He sighs and sends it.

* * *

Harp’s messagesends a frisson through Parker so strong it almost hurts. He reads the text, then reads it again. Parker wants to wrap himself up in the words, wants to roll around and luxuriate in the idea of him driving Harp wild. And even though the thought makes heat pool in his groin, the message is also strangely… sweet. Romantic, he realizes.

And though Parker has plenty of experience with relationships and sex, he realizes then that he has very little experience with romance.

And that is exhilarating and intoxicating and a little terrifying, all at once.

He knows he promised Harp he’d take it slow, but he’s still Parker and he’s still drunk.

>>PARKER: ok, i wont tell you how i wish i was in your bed blowing you right now

>>PARKER: ttyl sleep well!!

He tosses his phone aside, laughing to himself as he rolls over and turns the light off.

* * *

"Jesus."

Harp locks his phone.

He unlocks his phone.

He reads the text message again.

He locks his phone.

"Jesus."

He unlocks his phone.

He scrolls back to the pictures of Parker without his shirt on.

He locks his phone.

It's useless to ignore it now because Harp is wide awake and although he's not sober, he's certainly not going to fall asleep with his heart pounding and the thought of Parker in his bed.

Harp fights it for half a minute before he's tossing the phone petulantly across the bed, throwing the covers off of himself, and slipping his boxers down his hips. He's throbbing hard and there's no harm in just getting this over with, moving on so he can sleep and deal with whatever the next day brings.

Harp spits neatly into his hand and coats himself, thinking without warning of the way that Parker had been slick with precum by the time Harp had touched him. He'd barely allowed himself to revisit the night in his mind, but now it comes back to him in sharp relief, Parker arching up, his groans, the way he'd thrusted into Harp's hand like he couldn't help himself.

Harp is starting to trust it, now: this idea that Parker could really be attracted to him, for whatever bizarre reason. Not that he'll ever be able to own it, of course, but at least he trusts that Parker wants him, responds to him, can't wait to be with him in whatever way Harp will let them.

“I wish I was in your bed blowing you right now…”

"God," Harp moans into the dark.

It's almost too much to think of, what it could be like if he would relent and let Parker have his way. It seems impossible to think that Parker's eager mouth could feel better on Harp's cock than it had on the skin of his neck, but he tries to imagine it now with a pang of guilt.

His mouth would feel hot and sweet on Harp’s cock. Parker would be greedy, maybe even a little sloppy in his impatience. Harp can imagine stroking his fingers through Parker’s hair as he bobs down, can picture the somehow simultaneously innocent and devilish look that Parker would give him when he sees that Harp is watching.

As Harp twists around his length, hipping up slightly, imagining Parker there in his bed, he guiltily invokes the memory of Parker’s gulping noises from the video. This last bit of sensory stimulation is enough to send him over the edge, coming hard. Release and relief unfurls into every part of Harp until he is heavy, exhausted, and more than a little guilty about his choice of masturbation fodder.

At least maybe I’ll sleep now,Harp thinks, swabbing himself off with his boxers, tossing them to the floor, and nestling naked under the covers.

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