Page 193 of Untouchable

Harp throbs—is aching now—and while he wants to hold Parker by the waist, he almost doesn’t trust himself not to grip too hard. No one has done this to him before—not like this—and Harp treasures every millisecond of it.

* * *

Parker is being absolutely porny again,and he knows it—he’s resolved that he’s going to do exactly what he wants, and he’ll trust that Harp will tell him if he needs something different from Parker.

And right now, all Parker wants to do is take and be taken.

Parker places his hand at the center of Harp’s chest and gently pushes him back down on the bed. Parker remains upright, and through the thin fabric of Harp’s boxers, Parker can feel how hard and hot his cock is. Harp’s hands are on Parker’s hips, and he takes one of Harp’s hands in his own, guiding it to his leaking cock. Harp, at first, tries to grab him and stroke him, but instead, Parker brushes Harp’s fingertips through the precum at the tip and brings Harp’s hand to his mouth. He locks eyes with Harp, and Harp lets out a helpless little noise.

“See what you do to me?” Parker says, his voice hoarse and uneven. He closes his eyes and darts his tongue out, licking Harp’s fingertips, rolling his hips and savoring it as though his own precum is the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Harp chokes out another noise, and Parker opens his eyes again, smiling down at him.

He takes mercy on Harp—well, kind of—and shifts down to lay his naked body on top of Harp’s. Though Harp’s not completely naked yet, Parker feels, for once, patient. His plan, of course, is to make Harp just as strung out and needy as Harp seems to make him, so there’s no room in Harp’s mind left for self-doubt.

He ghosts his lips along Harp’s neck, alternating his lips, his tongue, his teeth—dry, chaste kisses and sharp, stinging bites and filthy sucking designed to leave a mark, to stake his claim. He slowly works his way down, and as he does, he keeps writhing his whole body against Harp’s, feeling the coarse hair of Harp’s chest brush his skin, feeling his cock rub up against the hard length of Harp’s, feeling their legs intertwine as Harp works not to buck up against Parker.

Harp’s hands are fisting in the comforter, and Parker laughs.

“You can touch me,” he says, and then adds, in his most bratty voice, “but I’m still in charge.”

* * *

Harp remembershis hands and his throat, moaning and releasing the fabric in his grasp to paw at Parker's skin instead.

This side of Parker is brand new and almost overwhelming—so in control and reaching into all of the most vulnerable parts of Harp, as if Harp had made a shopping list for him to study beforehand.

He shudders and need builds in him. He is viscerally here, he realizes, checking in and verifying that yes, he is present and ready for more.

He isn’t doing what he feared, what stopped him every time—going far from his body like it belongs to someone else, like he’s not making the choice. Every movement of his hands, every beat of his heart, every modicum of want belongs to Harp.

And every bit of him trusts Parker—wants him, wouldn’t miss a second of it dissociating or telling himself that what he’s doing is sinful or wrong. There are no voices from the past here with them now, no specters of Harp’s fuckups.

He is here. They are here.

* * *

Parker smilesagainst Harp’s collarbone as Harp’s hands fly to his waist and his hips, roving over him like he can’t get enough of Parker. In response, Parker writhes again on top of Harp, partly to rile Harp even more, but mostly because it feels so good to have Harp touch him like this, possessive and greedy and urgent.

"Can I—Can I kiss you?" Harp asks, his voice ragged.

In answer, Parker practically dives at Harp’s mouth, kissing him fiercely, and Harp groans into the kiss immediately, as though he’s been lost in a desert and Parker’s mouth is his first taste of water. Parker’s hands are all over Harp, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his sides, as if they have a mind of their own, as if Parker is creating a mental map of Harp to carry with him always—and, he realizes, he is.

His hands find Harp’s nipples once more, and he loves the predictable way Harp instantly responds, letting out a rough growl, and Parker breaks the kiss, moving his mouth downward and taking Harp’s other nipple in his mouth as he strokes Harp’s pecs. Unlike last time, he doesn’t try to be coy.

He’d meant to go slowly, to be patient, but he should have known that would never last. He moans as Harp’s nipple hardens as his tongue flicks over it, and he grinds his cock against Harp’s thigh, desperate for friction. Harp brings his leg up to facilitate Parker's movements, and he groans into the air, threading his hands through Parker's hair and encouraging him to grind against Harp's leg.

Parker lets out a little moan as Harp shifts, and for a moment, he loses his focus entirely, his hips rutting against Harp’s leg of their own accord. He’s slick with precum, and he wonders if Harp can feel the wetness against his leg as Parker moves.

Harp’s hand is twisted gently in his hair, and Parker reaches up, placing his own hand on top of Harp’s, encouraging him to grip a little tighter. Harp pulls Parker’s hair—lightly, so gently there’s no way it could hurt, but the sensation sends bright sparks tingling down Parker’s back, and he lets out a low, dirty moan. His hand flies to Harp’s thigh, seeking out Harp’s cock, which is still trapped between them—

And then Parker stops, jerking away so he’s sitting back on his heels, still straddling Harp’s thighs. Harp looks up at him, his eyes wide, a question on his face.

“I’m fine—” he pants. “I—I needed to stop for a second.”

Harp still looks confused, but Parker’s brain has gone absolutely syrupy, and he’s having trouble finding the words to describe how all-consuming his need for Harp is, how he wants to draw out Harp’s pleasure as long as he can, but if he’s not careful he’ll get too much momentum and end up grinding himself to orgasm against Harp’s leg before he can do half of the things he’s got planned.

* * *

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