Page 172 of Untouchable

Harp sighs and runs his hands down Parker's sides. No part of booking the hotel room had felt like enough to Harp, and yet here Parker is in his lap, saying that it's a crazy amount. He's acutely aware of the fact that he has no idea how to do this.

"If it's ever too much, I hope you'll tell me. There's nothing that would make me happier than spoiling you—but I don't want you to ever feel like you owe me anything in return."

“No—it’s not—bleh, nothing is coming out the way I mean it to,” Parker says, running his hand through his hair. “It’s like—it’s really really great and—” He takes Harp’s hand and guides it to his chest, pressing it against his sternum. “I wish I could make you feel what I’m feeling, you know? So you could see. And I don’t feel like you want me to owe you something, y’know? You’ve never made me feel that way.”

"Good," Harp says, kissing the tip of Parker's nose. "Then what do you want to do? The day is yours. We have a dinner reservation at seven, but other than that we could go for a walk or watch a movie or grab a drink downstairs or sit here and drink this champagne..."

* * *

Parker considers this.

“Well, if I’m being honest, part of me wants to drink champagne, but that’s because then I know I’m going to end up getting all handsy and stuff, so, just know if we do that, that’s what will happen. The bar looked super fancy, but what if… maybe we, like, went for a walk? And then got a drink there before dinner? And then came back for champagne? I promise I’ll pace myself with the drinking, too.”

"I asked what you want to do, not what the responsible thing to do is," Harp says. "Maybe we can compromise. Champagne, whatever comes after champagne, and a walk before dinner."

He pulls Parker back down for a kiss, and when they break, Parker smiles and leans more of his weight forward. Parker can already feel himself starting to harden at the promise in Harp’s words. It feels good, he thinks, to simply be honest about what he wants with Harp. Being honest with Harp has served him well so far.

“Well,” Parker says, wiggling his eyebrows. “If it’s what I want to do, then… it’s definitely this right here.” He leans in for another kiss, lightly rocking his hips against Harp. Harp immediately deepens the kiss, pulling Parker in closer.

Parker laughs softly against Harp’s mouth—hell, he realizes, he doesn’t even need champagne to want to do this with Harp. He knows—or, at least he assumes—that once the “honeymoon” period has passed, he won’t be out of his mind with desire for Harp at every second of the day, the way he is now.

And maybe, he realizes, as Harp licks into his mouth, as Parker opens for him, goes pliant in his lap, maybe that’s okay. It won’t always be like this—so what better reason to take advantage of the feeling now?

* * *

Harp had been planningon having to fight the current—this current between them—all afternoon. Why had it never occurred to him that he could just give in?

Now that he has, Harp loves the way the warm skin of his back feels smooth under his rough hands, loves the way that Parker always seems to end up in his lap when they're alone.

Harp strokes lower down Parker's back and into the hem of his jeans. Parker groans and leans his weight forward, arching to encourage Harp to keep going. Harp's fingertips meet a wide elastic band and Harp smiles into their kiss. It's the first time Parker's ever been wearing underwear when Harp has dared touch him so low.

He keeps going and has an odd moment like missing the last step in a staircase—because beneath the elastic band, there's simply nothing. Harp's fingertips brush bare skin and Parker arches even more against him.

"What are you wearing?" Harp growls into his neck as he grabs a handful of Parker's bare ass inside of his jeans.

Parker pulls back and looks down at Harp. He raises his eyebrow and cocks his head.

“Wanna see?” he says. Before Harp can answer, he moves out of Harp’s lap, and, standing before him, peeling off his shirt, tossing it aside, and stepping out of his pants in one fluid motion. He puts his hands on his hips and tilts his pelvis forward towards Harp, giving him his best supermodel pout.

Harp has never seen someone get undressed so quickly. Parker looks like a Greek god, and he’s wearing a jock strap—bright teal and gaudy and somehow ten times hotter than Harp thought was possible. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and massages them, pressing in until he sees stars.

A jock strap. A goddamned jock strap,Harp thinks. When did I start being intothis?

“They were a surprise for you,” Parker purrs. “You like?”

Harp opens his eyes just a sliver to peak at Parker—his boyfriend—looking beyond enticing, beyond sexy.

"Jesus Christ. You have to... you realize I'm 44 right? You do these things without warning, I could stroke out, you know that?"

Parker rolls his eyes and shifts his center of gravity and Harp realizes that the diamond-hard erection that he's been sporting since the moment he understood Parker was wearing a jock strap under his jeans is not, apparently, enough proof to Parker that Harp likes.

"It's good—you're—Jesus, Parker," Harp says, shaking his head and reaching for Parker to come back to his lap. "You're really a hazard."

* * *

Parker grins.Harp’s response only eggs him on—the look of naked desire in Harp’s eyes goes straight to Parker’s cock, and even though he’s had nothing to drink, he feels buoyant, like there’s no possible way he could fail at anything he ever tried do. He puts his hands on Harp’s shoulders for balance and straddles Harp’s lap once more, but this time, instead of simply sitting, he shifts forward, grinding his hard-on against Harp in what Parker hopes is a decent approximation of a lap dance.

Harp sits up and sucks against Parker's neck with abandon, grabbing Parker’s ass hard with both hands when he arches against him. Parker gasps and Harp lets off, steadying him with one hand and stroking him softly now with the other.

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