Page 63 of Snow Storm

Harley shivered.

Claude watched him another moment, enjoying putting Harley on display. He was lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree with his bright eyes and pink cheeks.

And fucking hell, Claude was pretty sure he liked it.

“Don’t move,” Claude said. Instead of pulling Harley close and taking his dick in his mouth, he rummaged through the nightstand and pulled out the journal and a pen. Harley had been taking notes in it. Claude hadn’t peeked, but he’d been curious.

“W-what’s that for?” Harley stammered.

“I won’t ever make you do something you’re not comfortable with. I’ll push your limits if you ask me to, but never beyond.”

Harley nodded. “Okay.”

“I still want something from you that I know you can give me. Your words.”

Harley sucked in a breath. “My words?”

“Yes. You might not be able to say them, but I know you can write them. So I’m going to suck your dick, and you’re not going to come. Instead, you’re going to write down all the things you want me to do to you.”

“Tonight?”

Claude grinned and reached out, tugging Harley close by the loose belt loops hanging down by his thighs. “Tonight. Tomorrow.” He kissed his stomach, making his cock jump. “Next week. Next month.” He kissed right next to his dick while not touching it, and Harley sobbed a protest. “Next year.” He looked up at him and held his gaze for as long as Harley could stand it. “For the rest of our lives.”

Harley’s hands shook as he took the journal and pen from Claude. “Promise you won’t judge my skills on this.”

Claude laughed and brushed a single touch over his cock, making Harley jump. “No. I’ll save that for the gift you give me.” He leaned forward, then urged Harley to lift his hands. “Get writing, mon amour. And remember my one rule.”

“Don’t come?”

Claude grinned at him. “Don’t come.”

Chapter 18

Harley

Everythingon the page was chicken scratch. No, it was worse, and yet, he still managed to do what his lover had demanded. No,demandedwasn’t the right word. It didn’t really feel like an order. It felt like something else—something that didn’t have a proper word for it yet.

Focusing had been damn near impossible with Claude taking Harley all the way down to the back of his throat, then pulling back to suckle at the tip. He kissed his slit and played with his balls, and his fingers trailed up between his ass cheeks to toy with his hole.

It was a damn miracle that Harley’s knees managed to keep him upright or that he could form sentences. But he had. Somehow, he’d made some sort of sense on the page. Writing was second nature to him, of course. He had no idea why there was a disconnect between his fingers and his tongue, and for a moment, he’d worried that was going to break them. It was going to deprive Claude of something he wanted.

Except instead of calling it quits and saying it was fine, Claude found a workaround. And he’d worked it into their play, so erotic that Harley was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be ableto look at another journal again without getting at least half-hard.

“I’m f-finished,” he got out. He didn’t write more than a page, but he was hoping it was enough for now. His imagination had taken over, and being able to picture Claude in every single one of his requests had almost sent him over the edge.

His balls were aching, and his cock was throbbing. He wanted to come so badly he could cry.

Then Claude pulled off his dick, and Harley couldn’t stop his noise of protest. But he wasn’t left alone for long. Claude yanked his pants down to his ankles before helping him step out of them, and then he tugged Harley until his knees were pressed to the bed on each side of Claude’s hips.

His calloused, tender hands held him tight, urging him close. Harley rocked his hard dick down against Claude’s soft one, and Claude moaned, stretching up to nip at the underside of his jaw.

“Was it too much?” he murmured.

Harley shook his head. “No. It was everything.” And he meant that. He felt Claude’s grin against his neck, and then the journal was plucked from his hands, and Claude leaned back.

Oh God, was he going to…

“Pin me to the bathroom counter…”

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