Snow Storm

Chapter 20

Harley

Harley wasn’t sure what to expect when Claude agreed to take the whole day off. Part of him assumed Claude would be irritated he’d wanted some alone time, but he wasn’t. He’d gone to his office and waited patiently, and the moment Harley needed him, he was there.

He had no idea what Claude wanted from him, and part of him wondered if he was expected to stay in bed and be teased into oblivion—something he would have been cool with at any other time. But he wasn’t feeling up for it. He was afraid to say that. Afraid it would make Claude second-guess what they had, but none of that happened. As he had been this whole time, Claude was able to read him perfectly.

He took Harley back to the cabin and started a fire. Harley worked on his manuscript notes, and Claude read through his emails. They existed together in quiet comfort with their legs tangled together, Claude occasionally brushing massaging fingers over Harley’s calves. It was domestic.

It was perfect.

After lunch, Claude made Harley bundle up, and they went out to check on the cows. The air was frigid, and the sun was too bright, but he had on dark shades and a thick scarf, and after a while, it wasn’t so bad.

“I think I could live like this,” Harley said, following Claude’s chair down the rubber pathway toward the barn.

Claude looked over his shoulder, his brows lifted behind his mirrored aviators. “Yeah?”

“Well, not year-round,” Harley said with a sniff. “But I think I could handle the winter.”

Claude laughed as he turned back and gave his wheels a hard push. “Don’t worry. The weather here is lovely more than it isn’t. But that’s also when my workload gets harder.”

Harley caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder. “Is that your way of telling me not to expect you to have a lot of time for me during the busy season?”

Claude bit his lip. “It’s not that simple, but…perhaps. Yes.” He fell quiet as they reached the barn, and he stood up, using the chair to support himself as he opened the lock and swung the door inward. Settling back in his chair, he pushed forward, and Harley followed him into the warmth of the shelter.

The cows were out, but the smell was pungent and overwhelming. After a few breaths, he sneezed four times in succession.

“I might be allergic,” he sniffed.

Claude pulled his glasses off and rolled toward him. “We won’t stay long. I just need to check their stalls.” Tugging on Harley’s hand, he pulled him down for a kiss. “I will make time for you, by the way. No matter how busy I am. I just worry you’ll feel neglected.”

Harley sighed and pressed their foreheads together before his back protested at his position, and he straightened up. “You worry now, but wait until I’m eyeballs-deep in trying to meet a deadline and forget to eat, let alone remember there’s another person in the house that might need some attention.”

Claude looked at him for a long moment, but it was interrupted by another series of sneezes, and he burst into laughter. “Oh, mon chou. Go outside and breathe fresh air. I’ll be done in a moment. We can have a bath after this.”

A bath sounded amazing. Harley couldn’t remember the last time he was this pampered—the last time he’d let himself just…be. He felt a pulse of guilt for not working, but he ignored it. He needed this. He knew he needed this, damn it.

After his dad died, he’d thrown himself into work. After his ex left, he forced himself to just get over it.

And then he snapped.

He didn’t want to be the messy man for Claude. He wanted to be the person Claude deserved. And maybe taking care of himself was the start.

Within half an hour, they were back at Claude’s and soaking in his tub. It was big enough for three grown men, something Claude said he’d indulged in when he was having the place renovated. It had a sealed door on the side that he could open and roll in if his legs wouldn’t let him stand and a bench on the side that he could use to slide in if his legs were more mobile that day.

The tub had jets along the sides and seats that molded to their bodies.

Claude had the water hot with a ton of bubbles that frothed up when he got the jets going, and Harley found himself wanting to doze, though his fear of drowning prevented it. But it was hard not to give himself over to the quiet, relaxing pleasure when Claude took his feet into his lap and began to massage them.

“You really don’t have to keep spoiling me like this.”

Claude lifted a brow at him. “When was the last time someone did?”

“Uh…you, when you were my massage therapist when I first got here,” Harley pointed out.

Claude flushed. “I still feel terrible about lying to you.”

“Yeah, well. It got us here.” Harley flexed his toes and shifted down until his chin was touching the water. He felt warm all over and halfway in love. “And if you want the real answer, I’ve never been with anyone who’s taken care of me like this. I need you to know I don’t expect this all the time though. I know this is something special.”

Claude hummed. “It doesn’t have to be. I did this for my ex-wife a lot. I stopped when she asked me to.”

Harley choked. “She asked you to stop giving her luxury baths and foot rubs?”

“We spoke different languages when it came to love and affection. But before the spark died, I did this a lot. I enjoyed it. I liked taking care of her. And I plan to do the same for you…until you ask me to stop.”

Harley snorted, almost sucking bubbles into his sinuses, and he coughed. “What if I never ask?”

Claude smiled at him. “Then you should have some very relaxed feet and calves.”

It was the perfect answer.

“Now,” Claude said after a long silence, “what can we do for dinner?”

“As long as I don’t need to cook, I’m open for anything,” Harley told him.

Claude sighed. “I’m going to need to hire you a personal chef when you move here, won’t I? So you don’t waste away before we start living together?”

When , not if .

When they lived together after Harley rented his little house and settled himself into his new life.

Not if they still wanted it after time passed and they got to know each other better.

Harley pulled his legs off Claude’s lap and turned onto his stomach. He pressed his hands to the bottom of the tub and slid up Claude’s front. Water sloshed around them as he kissed him hard, deep, grateful, needy.

“What’s that for?” Claude asked, a little breathless.

Harley nuzzled their noses together. “Just because.” It was more than that, but his feelings transcended words, so it was the only answer he could give. And the way Claude’s fingers dug into his hips and kept him close told Harley that he understood exactly what he meant.

“I want you.” The words escaped Harley’s lips before he was even aware he was going to say them. They were full from dinner—reheated cassoulet that Claude put together, which was somehow even more delicious than when he first made it.

He was feeling easy and a little sleepy and very, very horny.

Claude looked at him, his eyes going dark. “Oh, yes?”

“Yes. I…” Harley bit his lip. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted.

“Tell me,” Claude murmured.

Harley felt hot all over, like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and on a whim, he leaned toward the coffee table and picked up his notebook, scribbling until his wrist hurt. He took a breath, then passed it over and closed his eyes so he didn’t have to watch Claude read.

A moment passed, then another. Then another. Harley was starting to wonder if maybe he was being too ridiculous.

“You want me to fuck you, mon ame?”

Harley forced himself to look up.

Claude was staring at him with dilated pupils, and his lips parted on a rough breath. “You want me to take my pill so I can spread you open on my cock and fuck you until you can’t see straight?”

That was exactly what he’d written, and it was strange to hear his words aloud like that. He licked his lips, then whispered, “Yes.”

Claude groaned and reached out, pulling Harley on top of him. “Yes. Yes. My answer will always be yes.”

“Except when it’s not, right?” Harley asked, his voice trembling from the way Claude was now nipping at the tendon in his neck.

“Except when it’s not,” Claude parroted. He sucked a mark on the curve of Harley’s shoulder, then pulled back with a loud pop. “Will you bring it to me? The pills are in the bathroom in a small black bag under the sink. The top on that one is red.”

Harley’s whole body felt like it was on a knife’s edge between pleasure and disappointment. He wanted Claude so bad. He was so turned on. His cock strained at his sweats as he stumbled to the bathroom and dropped to his knees, where he began to paw around for the black bag.

He found it hidden behind two bottles of unopened mouthwash, and he pulled the zipper to find the bottle with the red top right away.

“I like seeing you on your knees for me.”

Harley jumped and turned, finding Claude standing in the doorway, using the frame to keep himself upright. His cock got harder, dribbling at the tip. He could feel it wetting the inside of his boxers.

“I’d like to see this again when I’m nice and hard for you. Open the bottle, chéri.”

Harley’s fingers struggled to obey, but eventually, he popped the cap and tipped one into his hand. It was very small, oval-shaped, and a sort of muted yellow color. Such a small thing could do something so…big.

“Come here,” Claude ordered.

Harley put the bottle back in the bag, then rose and walked over. He held out the pill, but instead of taking it, Claude opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. Harley’s breath caught in his throat as he placed it down, but before he could pull his hand back, Claude sucked his finger and thumb in his mouth and swallowed as he took the pill dry.

Harley groaned as Claude’s tongue traced the shape of his fingers before finally letting him go. “Fuck.”

Claude grinned. “That’s the plan, but these take a little while to work, so I think I’ll play with you until I’m ready. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Harley murmured.

Claude took him by the hips and kissed him. His tongue was slightly bitter, but the taste didn’t last as he deepened the kiss. His hands released the door to pull Harley’s sweats down to his ankles, and then he tugged at the hem of his sweater until Harley’s arms lifted, and he pulled it away.

Just like that, he was naked, standing at attention with his thick, flushed cock desperate to be touched. But Claude wasn’t giving in that easily. They’d done this enough times now that Harley knew it would be a long night of being teased into oblivion.

And God, he would die happy if he was struck down in that moment.

“Come,” Claude told him.

He wished that had been a command to orgasm, but he knew better. He kicked his sweats off his feet, then followed Claude into the bedroom and let him guide him to the bed. It was still unmade from the night before, and the sheets were cold against his bare, heated skin.

He hissed at the contact, but the sound turned into a moan as Claude lowered himself down and ground against him. His sweats were soft but felt harsh against his naked cock. It was touch, but not the kind he wanted.

“Je veux te manger,” Claude told him, enunciating carefully.

Harley swallowed heavily. He couldn’t understand him, but he somehow knew. “Tell me what that means, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want to taste you,” Claude murmured.

Harley’s face heated. “Like…” He turned his neck, offering his skin there.

Claude laughed and shook his head. “No, chéri. Not there. I think you know where.”

“Show me,” Harley whispered.

One of Claude’s hands drifted down his sternum, past his cock, behind his balls. He urged Harley’s leg to bend, and then carefully, he pressed two fingers against his hole. “Will you let me?”

“Please, oh God, please,” Harley begged.

Claude’s smile was a little dark, and he began to kiss his way down Harley’s body. It was on will alone that he didn’t come when Claude gave the tip of his dick a wet, messy, thorough kiss.

“Fuck, d-don’t do that if you want me to last.”

“I’ll consider it,” Claude told him, then took his balls into his mouth and rolled them gently with his tongue. Harley’s thighs began to shake, and he hooked his hands around his knees, pulling them up to his chest.

He was exposed. Completely. He could feel Claude’s breath over where he wanted his mouth most, and his stomach was tight with anticipation.

“Claude,” he whined.

“I think you need to be more polite than that, chéri.”

“Uhg. Fuck.” Harley licked his lips. “Please. Please…” Kiss me there, touch me there, put your tongue inside me and make me see God . But those words wouldn’t come.

Claude didn’t seem to mind. Please was enough. He gave Harley’s sac one final, long lick, and then he lowered his head, spread his cheeks wide, and immediately pushed his tongue inside him. The noise Harley made wasn’t quite human. He didn’t even realize he was capable of sounding like that. The noise rattled in his throat, tearing from his chest, and his whole body spasmed.

“Yes,” Claude murmured. He whispered a long string of French, then pressed his face harder against Harley’s ass and pushed his tongue deeper.

It was a pleasure Harley had never known. It wasn’t hard enough or rough enough to make him come. Not without his cock being touched, but it didn’t matter. He would have happily and willingly floated on the edge of this ecstasy for the rest of his life if he was able.

Claude’s tongue thrust in and out, leaving him slightly open, sloppy, wet, and soft. Harley’s back arched, and he found himself fucking his hips against Claude’s face. Shit. He hadn’t meant to take it that far.

When he stopped, he felt a gentle, careful slap against his ass. “I didn’t say to stop. Do it, my love. Fuck my face.”

Harley’s vision whited out at those words, and his body obeyed without his conscious effort. His hips moved, his nails digging into the skin behind his knees almost hard enough to break skin. His chest was tight, and he realized belatedly that he was holding his breath.

He let it out, gasping in as soon as he could, and he felt Claude’s tongue slowly slip out. He gave a noise of protest, of anguish because he didn’t want to be empty, but two fingers quickly filled him. He wasn’t slick enough from spit alone, but the feeling kept him grounded.

Claude kissed along the curve of his ass, then along the inside of his thighs until his breathing began to slow. “There you go. Come back to me, chéri. Come back.”

“I’m here.” The words were thick in his mouth, but they were clear enough. Claude kissed his leg one more time, then moved all the way up his body without removing his fingers.

“I want to fuck you. I want to lose myself in you,” Claude told him as he finally pulled out. Harley hated the feeling of being empty, but it was better with Claude’s body pressing him into the bed.

Harley’s hand moved out, searching until he found where Claude was hard and throbbing against the bed. “Let me recover for a minute, then I can get on top.”

“No. No, my love. Like this.” Claude rolled Harley onto his side, then took one of his legs and hooked it backward over his hip. He was open again, cock hanging in the air, asshole twitching and pressed against Claude’s dick. “Let me fuck you like this.”

“Yes,” Harley groaned. In that position, it wouldn’t be a hard fuck, but it would be a deep one. It was the perfect angle to hit his prostate, and he knew Claude would be relentless. He would nudge his cock against it over and over until Harley lost his mind.

Exactly the way he’d asked to be taken apart.

“Hold yourself open for me,” Claude ordered as he rolled away. Harley reached behind him to spread his cheeks as he listened to his lover rummage in his nightstand. He was on edge, desperate, needy, feeling strangely alone.

But before the feeling could overwhelm him, Claude’s body was back. It was warm and pressing. Two fingers brushed along his hole again, this time slick with lube. He let out a relieved groan as he was filled again. Not enough—but he would be soon.

“More,” he begged.

Claude added a third finger, stretching him wide—almost to the point of painful. And when it was nearly too much, he let go. Harley’s body collapsed against the bed, but he was only given a second of reprieve. Claude gripped his dick and positioned it against Harley’s hole, and then thrust forward.

It was a slow slide, filling him up inch by inch until he was bottomed out. Harley released his hands, pressing one into the bed, lifting the other to the pillows above him, and Claude’s fingers found his own.

“I love you like this,” Claude murmured against his ear. He began careful, stiff thrusts against him. “Love watching your body respond to me. Love the way you fall apart in my arms. Love that I’m the only one who can give you this.”

“Yes.” Harley panted in time with his own thrusts backward. “Yes. Please. I need…I need…”

“What, my love?”

His love. He’d been saying that for a while now. His love . Did it mean what Harley was desperate for it to mean?

“Hold me when you make me come. I need you to hold me.”

Claude’s arms immediately closed around him, one hand trailing down his sternum. He took his time, nudging Harley’s prostate with every roll of his hips. His cock was so hard, throbbing and stretching him, and Harley was pretty sure he was close to losing his mind entirely.

He was on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain, and he could feel his climax hovering. Just a few strokes would do it. A whispered word, a kiss on his neck, and those gorgeous hands bringing him over the edge.

Claude closed fingers around his cock and held tight. “Like this?”

“More,” Harley begged.

Claude stroked him once—root to tip as he thrust forward.

“More,” Harley begged again.

Claude obeyed. But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t keeping any rhythm. It was a tease—a promise of more to come, but he was drawing it out. Harley’s vision was foggy now, his hips trying to take what he wanted, but Claude wouldn’t let him.

“You come on my command,” his lover whispered against his ear. “Not before, not after. Do you understand?”

Harley’s body lit up with heat. Fuck. “Yes. Yes. But…please…I’m ready.”

“Not yet. Let me have you a little while longer. Let me feel you. Watching you fall apart on my cock is all I have ever needed.” He switched to French again, the words lost to him but the tone speaking the same language as he had been before. This meant as much to him as it did to Harley. This was important.

They were important.

Harley was falling in love, and he was pretty sure Claude was falling right beside him.

“Mon ame.”

“Yes.”

“Je veux que tu jouisses,” Claude said very carefully. Then he gripped Harley tight, stroked him hard and fast as he repeated in English, “I want you to come. Now. Right now.”

And Harley did. His head fell back, his hips stuttering forward into the circle of Claude’s fingers. He spilled and spilled, his body tensing with every pulse, and he heard the words tumble from his lips before he could stop himself.

“I love you. I love you, oh fuck. I love you.”

He meant every syllable, even if it was too soon and ruined everything. Claude went impossibly still behind him, and then as Harley lost his grip on reality, warm lips pressed to the back of his neck, and strong arms held him as he completely let go.