Snow Storm

Chapter 17

Harley

If Harley had been asked what he wanted that Christmas, he would have said to stay under the covers with Claude’s naked body pressed against him. He wanted to laze the entire day and night under the tender, impossibly erotic care of that man.

But it was also a holiday, and the staff at the resort were Claude’s family, so without complaint, he showered and dressed in warm clothes, then followed Claude to the dining room. Harley knew there were a couple of other guests at the resort, but they weren’t in the lounge when the two of them made their way in to sit beside the massive tree.

“Am I the only one with a paid room in here?”

“We set them up in a private dining suite,” Claude murmured, dragging Harley down to the sofa and pulling his legs onto his lap. “A couple of the servers trade off, and the rest of us sit down here for the evening. And if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t count the same way they do. You’re mine.”

Harley shivered. “I can live with that.”

“Good. Because it’s kind of a ghost town around here come the holidays,” Claude told him, leaning back a little.

“Some years we don’t have anyone,” came a voice from behind, and Harley turned his head to see a man he vaguely recognized. He was tall, broad, with rough hands and a thick dark beard with grey streaks. “Then we get to get very drunk and sing Christmas carols as loud as we can.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “They do. I don’t sing.”

Harley smiled at him. “Don’t worry, neither do I. It’s one of my non-talents.”

Dropping to his knees, Charlie draped his arms over the back of the sofa and looked between the two of them. “So. This is a real thing?”

“This is a real thing,” Claude said. He picked up Harley’s hand and kissed his knuckles. It sent shivers down his spine. “Do not make him feel uncomfortable.”

“I just wanted to meet the man who thawed the Ice King’s heart,” Charlie said.

Claude scoffed, but Harley could see a tinge of actual pain in his face. It was fleeting, but it was there. “I wasn’t frozen. I just hadn’t found anyone worth my time until now.”

“And he got a real disaster out of it,” Harley said, trying to take the attention off me. “I’m still too afraid to see how viral my breakdown is.”

“Oh, honey.” That was Lyric’s voice. She appeared carrying a tray full of mugs and set it down on the low table near the fire. “It’s so viral.”

“Wonderful,” he said dryly.

“I think you have more superfans than before though,” she added, snatching up two cups and walking them over. Harley took one, and Claude took the other. “People seriously fucking hate that Eric guy.”

“Ethan,” Harley corrected absently.

Lyric scoffed and rolled her eyes as she dropped to the floor beside the squashy ottoman and curled her knees toward her chest. “Who even cares what his name is. He’s the internet’s number one villain right now.”

“Even though I’m the one who punched him?”

Aminah laughed as she settled beside her wife. “I think you did what a lot of people wished they could when someone’s being that cruel to them.”

“Trust me, I have a lot of punching fantasies. They mostly involve my high school bullies,” Lyric said with a shrug. She leaned back against Aminah’s shoulder. “But yeah. I’ve been following the story, and pretty much everyone online except the trolls have talked about what a cinnamon roll you are.”

“Sounds tasty,” Claude murmured and stroked a touch up his arm.

“Uh, keep it to the bedroom,” Lyric ordered. “Even though that’s cute as fuck. Oh my God, we should take a pic of you two and post it!”

“Baby, no—” Aminah tried to protest on their behalf.

“If you like,” Claude said.

Harley froze. Did he know what he was signing up for by agreeing to that?

“Hear me out,” Lyric said, pulling away from Aminah and rising to her knees. She leaned toward Harley and Claude. “Your ex was a huge d-bag, right?”

Harley hunched into himself. “I suppose, yes.”

“ T’es sérieux? You suppose ? My darling, he is a monster,” Claude cut in, sounding almost angry.

Lyric grinned. “He’s being a dick on social media, especially since he knows you’re taking some time for yourself.”

“I haven’t looked,” Harley admitted.

Aminah leaned toward them. “Good. Don’t. He’s not worth the energy.”

Claude ran a hand up Harley’s spine. “I agree with her, mon ame.”

Harley nodded, though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist forever. For now though, it was easy to pretend.

“And don’t hate me for saying this, but your agent sucks, and it doesn’t seem like you have a social media manager, which means your socials have just been sitting silently since everything went down. People are rooting for you, babe. Like, big-time. If they see you not only happy but with someone who looks at you the way Claude does? They’re going to die. But, like, in a good way.”

Harley didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t really thought about it. Wes hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t even checked in with Harley to see how he was doing. It had been a bubble of quiet silence now peppered with Claude’s warm hands and impossibly lush kisses.

So why rock the boat?

“You have to go back to the real world eventually, and with how many are rooting for you, it might be nice to show all those fucks that you haven’t been ruined,” Lyric finished.

She had a point. Maybe a bad one, maybe a good one. He had no idea. Social media had never been his forte. It was one of those things he used only every now and again for this reason exactly: he had no idea what was going to fuck his whole world up.

But he didn’t think Lyric was trying to steer him wrong.

“What do I even say?”

“Just tell everyone you’re having a lovely holiday with someone special, and you hope they’re all having one as perfect as yours,” she said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll take the photo. I have a great eye.”

“She really does,” Aminah admitted.

Harley tipped his head back and looked at Claude. “People might figure out who you are.”

“Let them. It’s not like you’re Tammy Switt or whatever her name is,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

Harley glanced at Lyric, and they both burst into laughter. “Fair enough. I don’t have a private jet, and no one has ever stalked me.” And it would feel good to know that Darren had seen him happy and know that his life had somehow gotten even better. He took a slow breath, then let it out. “I’m in.”

“Amazing,” Lyric said. “Okay. Let me fix you. Hang on.”

After a full five minutes of being arranged and rearranged, Lyric was finally happy. Claude was spooned up behind Harley, their backs propped against the arm of the sofa with the fire and part of the Christmas tree in the backdrop.

“I want you to look at each other,” Lyric said.

Harley and Claude both obeyed, and Harley was instantly lost in the man’s dark eyes. God, he was so beautiful. It was far too soon for this feeling in his chest, but it didn’t matter. It was real. There was no denying it.

He was falling in love.

“Nope!” Lyric’s voice tore through his quiet peace, and he looked over. “No. You two are way too intense when you look at each other like that. It feels like porn music is about to start. Claude, I want you to hold him tight and kiss his neck, but look up at the camera.”

Claude scoffed. “How is that less like a porn?”

Lyric waved him off. “Who’s the professional here? Just do as I say. Look at the camera so people will see you’re the hottest man with grey hair on the planet, but they won’t get a full view of your face.”

“Fine,” Claude huffed. His lips descended, and Harley fought to keep his eyes from closing. Claude kissed him slowly, softly, and it was almost too much.

“Oh God, this is perfect,” Lyric said.

Harley heard the camera shutter on his phone go off several times. When it stopped, Claude didn’t. He kissed and kissed until Harley started to develop a little problem he didn’t want anyone else to see.

“Mercy,” he whispered.

Claude laughed as he pulled back. “Did you say merci?”

Harley rolled his eyes. “I said mercy . I’m about to traumatize everyone in this room.”

Claude’s eyes glinted with mirth. “Sorry. I can’t help it. I love kissing you.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Aminah complained. “You two better grow out of this stage, or I’m quitting and moving to another mountain.”

Lyric snorted as she typed and typed on Harley’s phone, and after a short forever, she handed it over. “There. I wrote up a little caption. You can delete it if you don’t like it, but you’re welcome to take credit if you want.”

Harley’s fingers shook just a little as he took his phone back and scrolled to read it.

Just dropping in to wish everyone a Happy Holidays. Sorry I’ve been absent, but I wanted to take a moment to share how grateful I am for the people in my life who are truly kind and make me feel as worthy as I deserve to feel. I hope you have someone special in your life to celebrate with like I do. It’s not very often someone gets to meet the love of their life, but it seems like I have. So, from my heart to yours, all the best this season. -Harley

“I don’t go by Harley,” he said very quietly.

“Oh God, right. Imagine if I’d posted that,” Lyric said with a giggle. “How do you sign off on your stuff.”

“RJ.” He corrected it, then stared at the words again. It wasn’t something he’d have ever typed on his own, but the words rang true. The people in his life—the people here who had welcomed him without judgment after knowing only what the internet had said about him—they were kind. The people here who had taken the time to know him as he was and not who they assumed he would be. They were kind.

And he was happy.

“Is any of that too much?” Claude murmured in his ear.

Harley knew what he was asking about. The love of his life. He looked up into his eyes, then shook his head. He felt Claude’s breath catch in his chest, and then he let the phone drop to his lap as he was kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

He was entirely breathless by the time Claude pulled away, and it took everything in him not to turn his body and pounce. Instead, he picked the phone back up and hit the little icon to post it.

“Does your phone get notifications?” Lyric asked.

Harley snorted. “Not a chance. I’ve turned them all off.”

“Can I watch the internet lose their minds?” she asked eagerly.

“Babe,” Aminah warned.

“What? I just want to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

“And maybe Harley doesn’t want you meddling in his accounts,” Aminah said softly while Lyric huffed.

Harley waved off her concern. “Truthfully, it’s fine. I’m happy to let someone else do it for me. If you’re looking for a second job, I’d love a new social media manager.”

Lyric’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward, clasping her hands under her chin. “Do not toy with my emotions.”

“Oh, I’m not.” Harley meant every word. “We can talk about it after Christmas, yeah?”

“Let’s consider tonight a freebie. So you can assess my work,” she said, clutching his phone close. “Just tell me any hard and fast rules.”

Harley rolled his eyes. “If my ex calls, answer it and tell him to go to hell. And when I go back with Claude…consider me off-limits for the rest of the night.”

Claude held him a little more tightly—a little more desperately. “Same for me. I know you two can handle any crisis that might come up.”

Aminah leaned forward and met their gaze. “If it means you’re finally letting yourself be happy, we’re on it. For as long as you need.”

It took all of Harley’s self-restraint to sit through another cup of cocoa, then dinner, then cookies, then gift exchanges. He’d expected to get nothing since the only thing he’d managed to come up with for a gift was the book for Claude, but Aminah and Lyric gave him a fuzzy brown sweater that was a few sizes too big and a pair of slippers to match.

He felt like shit for not having anything for them, but Lyric went on and on about the job offer, and Aminah told him her gift to him was making her wife happy.

It felt like some kind of success, and he was already picturing next year and how different it was going to be. Better in a way, because—if this all worked out—he’d know them. He’d be invited and welcome and expected.

He didn’t think about how next year, if he didn’t get to keep any of this, he’d feel crushed. The idea of that loneliness was almost too much to bear, so his brain shut it off, and he let it hide in the shadows of his mind.

He and Claude were happily dismissed and made their way back to the house, Claude’s steps slow and careful as he leaned heavily on his cane. By the time they got in, Harley was nearly frozen to the bone, and he let Claude lead him directly to the bedroom, where he sat on the edge of the bed, then began to methodically strip Harley down until he was naked.

The feeling would have been awful, but the heater was pumping warm air through the vent. His nipples were still peaked though, and his cock was fat and stiff with need the way it had been most of the night. He watched Claude watch him. He saw naked hunger on his face.

His strong, careful fingers lifted, tracing his full pecs, following the riverbed stretchmarks over his sides and down toward his knees. His touch was reverent and almost worshipping, and Harley had never felt so adored in his life.

“The way I feel right now terrifies me.” Claude took a moment, then looked up at him. “A single word from you would rip my heart out and leave me for dead.”

“I know what you mean,” Harley told him.

Claude nodded. “That’s the only thing keeping me together right now.” He licked his lips, then took Harley by the waist and pulled him forward. “I want you on your knees.”

He fell like it was the only thing he could do—like his body was entirely under Claude’s command.

“Unbutton my shirt.”

Harley’s fingers struggled with the small buttons, but it didn’t take him long before Claude sat there with his exposed chest.

“Touch me.” It was an order, not a request, but it still came out like he was begging.

Harley sucked in a sharp breath, then reached out and pressed his hands over Claude’s pecs. They fit perfectly in the curve of his palms—and his hands were warm and so fucking soft. He groaned as pleasure sparked across his skin, arching forward, pressing into him hard—harder.

Harley’s touch went from hesitant and gentle to something stronger. Something with purpose. He clawed his fingers and raked them down, scraping over Claude’s nipples, making him want to come right there.

“Enough,” he said.

Harley’s hands dropped to the tops of his thighs.

“You’re so good. You know that, right?”

Harley’s lower lip trembled. “I?—”

“If you’re going to argue, don’t bother. I don’t want to hear it,” Claude told him, simply but firmly. “It would be a waste of your breath and a waste of the time it took for my ears to hear it.”

“Why me?”

Claude blinked in surprise at the question. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Harley lifted higher onto his knees and let his arms rest over Claude’s thighs. “I know I’m not bad-looking. I’ve never had trouble catching someone’s interest. I’ve had trouble keeping it. And after all these years of never finding anyone worthy of your time—you’ve chosen me, and I don’t understand why.”

Claude’s heart sank, and he shook his head. He pulled Harley close, bracketing him with his knees and breathing in the scent of him. It was snow and woodsmoke and spices—and it was home. “It’s because it’s you. I’m not going to pretend to understand it. I just know that when I look at you, I realize you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted. And I know I shouldn’t be saying all this on the cusp of your relationship falling apart and it being so soon after your father’s death?—”

“No,” Harley said, interrupting. He shook his head and then dropped his forehead against Claude’s sternum. “I’m a logical person. Too logical. Darren hated that about me. I was never any good at accepting things as they were. I always need to know why. And how. I think I drove him away.”

“I think you were never meant to be his. That he would never be enough for you,” Claude told him, urging him to look up. “I don’t mind that you want to know answers or that you have questions. I adore that about you. I just wish that right now I had a better reason for you than this one.”

Harley bit his lip, then said, “I should hate your answer, but I can’t.”

“Why?”

Harley smiled. “Because it’s the same as mine. I don’t pretend to get it, and part of me hates that I can’t work it out more than just ‘it is.’ But when I look at you, it doesn’t matter. I’m here. I want to be here. And I think you want me too.”

Claude laughed, unable to help himself. “Yes, chéri. There are no words for how much I want you.”

“Show me?” Harley asked.

Claude felt a tremor run through him at the promise of what that meant. He leaned back and pressed his arms to the mattress behind him. “Take off your pants, then hold your dick for me. I’m going to suck it, and you aren’t going to come until you’re so desperate, you’re begging me.”

Harley’s eyes closed as he backed away, then stood. His whole body seemed on edge—exactly the way Claude wanted him. Claude’s whole body felt on edge as he watched Harley get his dick out like it was taking more effort to do that than compose an entire novel.

But he managed it. He held his erection with tight, trembling fingers, poised in front of Claude like it was some kind of offering. Claude stared at him for a long moment, then slowly licked his lips. He was hungry for this man, but he wasn’t ready to touch him just yet.

Harley made an obvious effort to stop the groan that erupted from his throat, but he failed.

The sound reverberated around them, and Claude’s lips turned up at the corners. “Good.”

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.”