Page 98 of Untouchable

"All I know how to do for entertainment is eat, smoke cigarettes, and get drunk—none of which I suppose you want to do right now. And you saw how my taste in movies skews... So, what should we do?"

Parker thinks for a moment.

“Do you know how to play pinochle?”

"I don't know shit about card games," Harp admits.

"Not even War?"

Harp shrugs. "I think I remember how to play Go Fish."

Parker laughs hard at this. "You know how to do so much random shit but you don't know how to play any fun card games?"

"Go Fish is fun. I'll make it fun. Just watch me," Harp says, feigning indignance. "And if all else fails, I'll roll us a joint and you'll forget how boring Go Fish is."

“Fine,” Parker says. “We can play Go Fish. Do you have cards or do I need to wait for you to whittle some?”

Harp laughs hard again, loving the way that Parker constantly catches him off guard.

"I think there are some in the junk drawer," Harp says, pointing out the right drawer. "You wanna hunt those down and I'll get a fire going again in the living room?"

* * *

PlayingGo Fish with Harp is remarkably fun, though Parker suspects that being with Harp could make even descaling a coffee pot or picking up dog shit a fun task. What he loves most, after all, is simply being with Harp, hearing him laugh, watching him examine his hand of cards, drinking in the luxury of spending time with him.

It’s difficult, of course, to keep his concentration completely on the game, now that Parker knows what Harp’s mouth tastes like, knows what his hands feel like on Parker’s waist, knows the heat of Harp’s cock pressing against him through layers of clothing.

Parker is waiting for Harp, though—he’s decided he’ll let Harp take the lead, set the pace.

It’s not easy, though, and his pent up sexual energy, seeking an outlet, is making him a little fidgety. He’s been wiping the floor with Harp—the man really doesn’t know shit about card games, and he figures he should probably relent before he bruises Harp’s ego by winning a seventh game in a row. He hopes, too, if he gently… suggests… that he’s done playing cards, Harp might get the hint.

He lays his cards down.

“Okay,” he says. “Since you’re a stubborn sonofabitch, which I guess I should have predicted, I’m going to say we’re done playing cards. There’s only so many times I can win at Go Fish before, you know, I start worrying about your honor.”

He grins at Harp.

* * *

Anxiety has been curlinginto a tight coil at the base of Harp's belly as he's watched Parker enjoy himself. With every joke, Parker laughs a little easier and Harp clenches up tighter.

They're resting on blankets on the floor, in front of the fire—a cliche Harp suggested and Parker was only too happy to agree to—and light flickers over Parker's cheesy, charming smile.

The more he looks at Parker, the more Harp feels... Tense. Uncertain. Unworthy, he realizes. Parker is so handsome, so easy to talk to, everything that Harp is not. If it's up to him, Harp realizes now that he's not going to be able to make the first move.

And that's... fine. Disappointing, but fine.

"I thought you were enjoying beating me to a pulp," Harp says, sighing and spreading his cards face up on the floor. "What now?"

* * *

“You tell me,”Parker say, batting his eyelashes.He hopes it makes him look coy and sexy, not like he’s having a mild stroke.

"We could, uh. Listen to records," Harp suggests. "Play with the dogs. Watch another really niche movie that will have zero appeal."

It’s not exactly the response Parker is hoping for.

And now, when he looks more closely at Harp, he sees that something is amiss—Harp’s body language is all wrong. He’s lost that playful glint in his eyes, the relaxed swagger he’d had in the kitchen just an hour ago. He’s curling in on himself. Parker’s losing him.

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