Page 222 of Untouchable

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Harp whisksParker to his bedroom at the top of the stairs, dropping a laughing Parker onto the bed. Harp is about to join him when Parker turns, kneeling and meeting him at the edge of the bed.

"You're wearing too many clothes again," Parker grumbles, hanging on the front of Harp's shirt. "You're bad about that."

"Then help me out with it," Harp says, smiling.

Parker obliges, unbuttoning Harp's shirt from the bottom up and pausing to press a kiss in the center of his chest.

When he slides Harp’s shirt off, it falls to the floor in a puddle, and Parker pulls back for a moment, his hands braced against Harp’s chest, admiring him.

“God,” Parker whispers, leaning in to kiss up Harp’s neck. “You’re so fucking hot—” He lets his hands begin to roam, stroking over every part of Harp’s bare skin he can reach.

“Y’know,” Parker says breathlessly, “I even jerked off in the shower this afternoon so I could go a little slower now—” He pauses to suck a mark into the place where Harp’s neck meets his shoulders, and he’s rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Harp. “Made myself come thinking about finally taking your cock—”

“Parker,” Harp groans, his voice raw, as Parker’s hands and mouth stroke over his chest and shoulders. He can hardly take it. He realizes that he’s groaning like he's getting the best head of his life and not being kissed on the neck—but Harp already knows there's no way he's going to be able to pretend to be cool. At all. His nerves are all shorting out.

“I’ve always liked sex,” Parker whispers into Harp’s neck. “But it’s never been like this with someone before—wanting them this badly.” He lets his hands trail lower, finding Harp’s belt to unbuckle it.

The way Parker says it makes it seem like sex is so easy and uncomplicated—fun and positive and natural. Maybe, Harp realizes, it can be that way with Parker. There's no reason why it has to be any more complicated than this: the two of them caring about each other, respecting each other, sharing moments with nothing between them.

It feels so good to be undressed by Parker, so different than he's felt before, like he's something special to be unwrapped and savored—not some furtive screw in a by-the-hour hotel room.

"I've never wanted someone so badly," Harp admits into the soft skin of Parker's neck.

* * *

Parker slowly pullsHarp’s jeans off, revealing his cock, hard and heavy, straining against the fabric. Parker sits back on his heels, admiring Harp’s body—how he’s thick all over, neither fat nor lean but just solid, just Harp, broad and softly furred as if he’d been designed in a lab just to cater to Parker’s needs. There’s a patch of damp on the front of his underwear, and Parker traces it gently with a finger, looking up to watch Harp’s face as Harp inhales shakily.

Harp steps out of his pants, kicking them aside, and when he’s still again, Parker shuts his eyes and presses his face to Harp’s crotch, inhaling deeply and running his hands over Harp’s sides. Harp strokes his hand through Parker's hair.

“I’ll have to go slow tonight,” Parker says, looking back up at Harp as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of Harp’s underwear, dragging them down as slowly as he can. “It’s, well… been a while, and, I don’t know if you noticed this but you kind of have a massive cock.”

He pulls Harp’s underwear all the way down, freeing the aforementioned cock and ghosting his lips up its length.

Harp sighs out, "Flatterer," through a smile and pulls Parker gently back up and into a kiss.

"I intend to," Harp says when they break. "Go slow, I mean."

He kicks out of his underwear and moves to the bed, hipping Parker so that he falls to his back, laughing. Harp kisses his neck and then flips him easily so that Parker is on his belly. Parker starts to get to his knees, but Harp stops him, making a soothing sound and putting a hand on his hip.

"Let me," Harp says, grabbing pillows from the head of the bed and maneuvering them under Parker's hips gently. Parker doesn't understand what he wants at first, and he frowns back over his shoulder at Harp, waiting for direction.

"Just relax," Harp urges, nudging him to lay down.

Parker props himself up on his elbows to turn around, still confused and Harp smiles crookedly.

“All the way down,” he says. Parker lowers himself all the way down onto the bed, the sheet cool and crisp against his cheek, as Harp strokes down his back, over his ass, and on down to his thigh. He realizes he’s tensing his body, and at first he can’t remember why.

Harp is slowly kissing a line down his shoulder blade when it hits him. Laying like this, face down, his ass in the air, not being able to see his partner, reminds him of how sex had been with Cole in the dying days of their relationship—hurried and almost anonymous, always on Cole’s terms, with never enough prep and certainly never enough love and tenderness.

“Harp—“ Parker says, twisting and propping himself up to look over his shoulder at Harp, his voice hoarse.

“Let me take care of you, baby,” Harp says gently. “I promise we’ll go as slow as you need.” He leans forward to kiss Parker sweetly, and Parker realizes Harp has mistaken the cause of his tension. It’s the reassurance he needs, though.

This is Harp, who loves him. And who he loves. He knows this now, even if they haven’t said the words.

He lays back down and this time, he allows himself to go completely pliant, letting Harp shift his legs apart.

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