Page 64 of Snow Storm

“Don’t read it aloud,” Harley begged, covering his face.

Claude used his free hand to tug Harley’s face free, and he smiled at him as he finished reading, “…and eat my ass until I’m begging, then fuck me while I watch us in the mirror.” Claude’s tongue dragged over his lower lip. “If I can’t perform like that?—”

“Keep reading,” Harley said, both miserable and turned on.

Claude’s gaze darted down to the words. He squinted like he was trying to decipher the terrible handwriting. “It doesn’t need to be your dick all the time. You can fuck me with a dildo or your fingers. I want to come with four of them in my ass.”

Claude slammed the book shut and threw it to the side before yanking Harley all the way against him. “And now? You would want that one now?”

“You’re not going to read the rest?” Harley asked.

Claude lifted a brow. “Is that what you want? You want me to lay you out on the bed and read them while you jerk yourself off to your own words?”

Harley’s body flushed so hotly, for a moment, he thought he was going to pass out. “I…it…no,” he whispered. “Just…um. Maybe what you said.”

Claude lifted two fingers to his lips and stuck them in his mouth. He pulled them out, sticky with spit, then reached around and eased them into Harley’s hole. It was a little too dry and too thick, but he fucking loved it.

God, he loved it.

His balls twitched hard, the heat of his impending orgasm like a blaze at the base of his spine. “Oh. I’m…I’m close,” he gasped.

“I thought you might be, mon ange.” Claude leaned to the side, and somewhere in his daze, Harley heard the click of a cap. There was cool slick suddenly, sliding with Claude’s fingers, and two turned into three. The stretch was so intense he lost his breath. “Easy, chéri. Easy.”

Harley forced air into his lungs and then out. He whined, rocking himself backward. Three was enough. He’d have to work up to four. He couldn’t get the words out, and for a moment, he was afraid, but Claude had been right: he was learning him. He was damn near fluent, and it had only been a few days.

Christ. He was so in love.

He looked down into Claude’s eyes and squeezed around his hand.

“Yes. Yes. Just like that. Take me, my love. Mon amour,” Claude babbled. He fucked his hole hard with his hand, the other going around his cock, and with three firm, tight, hard strokes, Harley let go. He’d been on edge for so long that the orgasm rocked him blind. Everything went white, then dark, and he felt outside of his body as he heard his own moans.

Claude slowed after a beat, holding him close, kissing his neck. His fingers had already slipped out, and Harley was gently rocking himself against the mess he’d left on Claude’s pants.

“With me?” Claude asked softly.

Harley managed a soft groan, which got lost in the sound of Claude’s laughter. There were more kisses after that—gentle, bringing him back down. His vision started to return, but his eyelids were heavy. He’d never come so hard in his life. Claude laid him on his side, and then he was gone from the bed, and before Harley could panic, he’d returned with a warm cloth.

He was wiped down, then tucked under the covers, and he was finally more cognizant when Claude’s body slid next to his. He was naked, the muscles in his legs hard and twitching, his cock soft and pressed against Harley’s hip.

Harley lifted his face, and Claude gave him the kiss he was wordlessly asking for.

“Thank you,” Harley murmured.

“For what?”

Loving me. Liking me. Keeping me.His tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth, so he just shrugged and kissed him again. Claude didn’t seem to mind, and he didn’t press for more. He just held Harley a little tighter, and soon enough, his breathing evened out, and they both slipped off to sleep.

Harley groaned at the first stroke of warm hands. Warm…oiled hands? He looked over his shoulder with bleary eyes as his heavy sleep began to fade, and he saw Claude on his knees. Then, he smelled the familiar orange-spiced scent.

“What are you doing?”

“Massaging you.”

“Well,” Harley said, then groaned softly as Claude’s ridiculously talented hands hit a hard knot between his shoulder blades. “That’s…uhg. That’s obvious, but why?”

“Because I can tell the knots in your back are giving you a headache, and I think our vigorous sex last night made it worse.”

Harley buried his face in the sheets beneath him and laughed. “I guess that’s fair, but it also seems a little unfair. Isn’t sex supposed to relax me?”

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