Page 68 of Temptation at Randy's

“Why all the complaining, then?” Claude rolled their eyes playfully.

“You can be mean and still make me want something.” I huffed.

I thought it was obvious, but maybe not.

Claude just laughed again, but they grabbed my hand, and we kept walking toward their place. I’d told them we should’ve just gone there in the first place, but Claude had wanted to drop by Randy’s. They hadn’t seen Avery and Myles in a while and had grudgingly admitted to missing them. I found it sweet, even if the reason they gave the outside world was just that they needed to feed their cheese fries addiction.

I so wanted to get the recipe for those from one of the cooks, but I’d soon come to realize that Randy’s was Claude’s space more than it was mine. They knew everyone, and they recharged there. It was their hub. Their new platform, in a way, now that YouTube wasn’t an option they could or even wanted to grow.

“I cannot believe I just FaceTimed with a famous YouTuber while at a local diner,” I said.

I was just teasing. Ben was nice—a bit more tame than he was in front of the camera from what I remembered, but not by much. He had a lot of dirt on Claude, which had quickly turned into the most interesting part about him.

“You two can’t conspire against me,” they protested.

They’d said the same thing while we were talking.

I giggled. “Or what?”

The playfulness was a relatively new development I was only starting to grow more comfortable with. It was our thing—Claude’s and mine. That made it better.

“Oh, I’ll think of something.”

I shivered. The playfulness was not gone, but it was shoved to the background in favor of… lust. Claude would think of something, something that would most likely have me writhing beneath them while I didn’t know which way was up.

It was my favorite thing, but that wasn’t enough for me to admit as much out loud.

Claude questioned it at times, but I really couldn’t have picked a better partner to explore D/s with, or whatever we were doing. All the protocol and formalisms felt wrong whenever we tried to incorporate something. The way power shifted between us like a current keeping us together was real, though. I couldn’t ignore it if I wanted—and I didn’t want to.

“Besides, I’ll remind you it was your idea not to grab an Uber.”

“Well, you don’t live that far from Randy’s,” I grumbled, “and you’re the one who said I should help you set up a budget for yourself.”

I’d been way too excited about it when Claude texted me the other week. Probably way more excited than they’d thought I’d be.

I liked budgets—not as much as I liked baking, or submitting, apparently, but they were the… third best thing. Well, fourth. Claude had soon claimed a spot among the top three best things going on for me.

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude pouted. “Whatever.”

I laughed.

These past few months were giving me lots of these moments. I liked them way too much; it was difficult to put into words. I liked the security I found in Claude, and I liked how easy it was for me to breathe around them.

It was still scary—but it was ours, even when Claude grumbled about how they’d never gone to Randy’s with the intention of flirting with anyone.

To be fair, they hadn’t quite flirted, but… I hadn’t always had the highest standards, and I was easily taken by people.

I was aware of it. In this case, though, it had worked in my favor.

“Give me your hands.”

I squirmed. Instead of just telling me where and how they wanted me, Claude had taken care of all of it. They’d gotten rid of my clothes, and they’d positioned me, spread eagled, on the bed.

The fact that they were now including me had me hitching my breath. “You’re not going to just grab them?”

“I can’t do everything, gorgeous,” Claude drawled. I couldn’t see their face from this angle, but I could picture their smirk. “What kind of precedent would that set?”

“You tell me.” I shrugged.

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