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If Harley had ever wanted to know what making out with an ice cream cone feels like – one that reciprocates – she may have found the closest approximation.
"You're the best thing to happen to me since summer arrived, Frosty," Harley murmurs and licks back into her mouth. On second thought, her tongue might be more of an ice pop. "Even though this feels a bit like fingering a frozen corpse."
"Speaking from experience, being a doctor and all?" Frosty retorts and cants her hips, riding Harley's fingers, trying to take them deeper. It's a weird sensation. Inside, she's warmer and wet like a soaked sponge, yet Harley's fingertips are still growing numb.
"I am now."
Harley gasps as Frosty twists her nipples, almost freezing them stiff. Her trembling slowly progresses into full-on shaking, muscles caught between the desire to contract and to let go, to melt. Her skin is pebbled, every pore closed against the cold from her touch, yet underneath, as if blanketed by a firm layer of snow, Harley's boiling.
Against all better judgment, she guides Frosty's frigid digits to her core.
"Fuck a duck," she hisses when they touch her burning cunt, "this is like humping an icicle."
"Don't you ever shut up?"
"Not unless you make me."
Not one to pass up a challenge, Frosty smirks and dips her fingers between Harley's slick folds. Greedily. Harley sucks her back into her mouth. An instant later she tenses, the inside of her nose gone tight.
"Zzzt, brainfreeze."