Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
The walk to the apartment was quiet. Not the peaceful kind, but more like the heavy, dragging silence of a boy wrapped in shame.
Danny shuffled beside him, shoulders tight, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. His head stayed low, curls hiding most of his face. Easton kept his steps slow to match but didn’t speak.
Danny didn’t cling or resist, just kept pace with his head bowed. His sneakers scuffed the gravel as they crossed the yard and walked past the paddock.
Easton watched him from the corner of his eye, each dragging step tightening the knot in his chest. He hated this quiet because it was not the restful kind The silence wasn’t peaceful.
It wrapped around Danny like a cocoon of frayed thread, hiding whatever bruised thoughts churned beneath.
He wanted to reach in and untangle it, to know what thoughts were circling in that downturned head.
But Danny didn’t offer, and Easton didn’t push.
He wished he had Wilbert’s gift for coaxing truth out with nothing but a thoughtful hum or a steady gaze.
Easton had steadier hands than most surgeons he knew, but when it came to this—when it came to Danny—he always felt just a breath too clumsy.
By the time they reached the path curving toward his Daddy-in-Residence apartment, Easton stopped. The breeze caught Danny’s hair, but he didn’t lift his head.
“Hey,” Easton prompted.
But Danny didn’t look up.
Easton reached out and tilted Danny’s head with his fingers under the boy’s chin until their eyes met. Wide wounded bluish-gray stared up at him, brimming with something brittle.
“You made a mistake,” Easton said. “You’ve accepted the consequences. Stop punishing yourself.”
Danny’s mouth worked. “I just...” He swallowed. “I’m scared you’ll think I’m too much. Like it’s easier to walk away than deal with someone like me.”
A sharp ache caught Easton off guard.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He cupped Danny’s face in both hands, brushed his thumbs along rounded cheeks. “No. That’s not how I see you at all.”
Danny’s breath caught.
“I didn’t know I could laugh like I have the last few days. Or look forward to breakfast. Or want to buy glitter markers in four different shades of purple because someone gets that excited about coloring.” His voice dipped. “You bring joy. My life’s better with you in it.”
“Really?” The question was whispered, so soft Easton barely heard it.
“Really.” He leaned in and kissed Danny’s forehead. “You’re very important to me.”
Danny blinked, tears threatening but not falling. He reached for Easton’s hand.
They walked the rest of the way together, fingers twined.
At the apartment, Easton held the door open. Danny slipped inside, quiet as a shadow. No bratty bounce. No silly voices. Just that tight-held quiet Easton recognized far too well.
“Come,” Easton said, leading him into the bedroom. “Let’s take care of you.”
Danny hovered near the bed as Easton crossed to the dresser. He opened the top drawer and pulled out the small, dark-blue jar they’d gotten from the Ranch dispensary. It was calendula salve, lightly scented, and safe for Littles.
He sat on the edge of the mattress and tapped his thigh. “Lower your pants and undies. Then over my lap.”
Danny fidgeted. “Are you going to spank me?”
Easton met his gaze. “Do you think I should?”
A pause. Danny bit his lower lip. “No... I already got punished.”
“Exactly.” Easton patted his leg again. “Come on, baby.”
Danny unbuttoned his jeans, pushed them and his briefs down in one go, then draped himself over Easton’s thighs. His skin was still faintly pink, marked with shallow scrapes and irritation where the hay had scratched him earlier.
Easton scooped some of the salve onto his fingers and started to smooth it gently over Danny’s sore bottom.
The room was quiet except for their breathing and the faint rustle of clothing.
The balm glistened as it sank into the skin, and Danny exhaled slowly, tension bleeding out of him with each pass of Easton’s hand.
“You’re safe,” Easton murmured. “You’re loved. And you’re not too much.”
Danny let out a shaky breath and let himself melt.
Danny followed Easton’s quiet command, his heart thudding with something more complicated than nerves.
His cheeks burned, but not just from embarrassment.
The balm was for soothing, and Easton’s touch wasn’t sexual, but Danny’s cock twitched anyway, pressing up against the firm support of Easton’s thigh.
He squeezed his eyes shut, mortified. Not now. Not when he was finally feeling safe again.
But his body wasn’t listening. Every brush of Easton’s fingers as he applied the salve with gentle circles made things worse. Or better. Or… both?
The coolness of the calendula was a relief on his sore skin, but Easton’s hand was warm and almost reverent. Danny’s breath hitched when a fingertip skimmed closer to the crease of his cheeks. There was nothing inappropriate about the caress, but it was just close enough to make his hips twitch.
“Easy, boy.” Easton’s hand stilled. “You’re all right.”
“I know,” Danny whispered into the crook of his elbow. “It’s just… everything feels big right now.”
Easton rubbed a soothing circle. “Big good or big bad?”
Danny didn’t answer right away. He shifted slightly, trying to adjust his leaking hardness without being obvious, which was laughable at this point.
“Both,” he finally admitted. “I feel safe. And stupid. And seen. And… ha—hard.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Sorry.”
Easton didn’t laugh or scold. He just kept rubbing in gentle, slow motions. “You don’t have to apologize for how your body reacts. Especially not with me.”
Danny squeezed his eyes shut. “But I don’t want to ruin this. It’s not about that. I mean… it kind of is, but not only.”
“I know,” Easton said softly. “You’re allowed to want. You’re allowed to feel.”
Danny blinked fast. His cock pulsed against the fabric of Easton’s slacks. But the shame wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. Not with Easton’s hand still moving in slow, careful strokes, not with his voice steady and low.
“Thank you,” Danny whispered. “For not making it weird.”
“It’s only weird if we pretend it’s not happening.” There was a smile in Easton’s voice now. “And I’d rather you be honest with me. Even if that’s difficult.”
Danny exhaled shakily, sinking a little deeper into the moment. His skin still stung, his pride still smarted but under it all, warmth bloomed like a hearth fire.
Easton’s hand lingered and the warmth from his palm seeped through Danny’s skin, settling deeper than the salve ever could. He felt the way Easton’s thighs shifted beneath him.
Hard, manly thighs.
Everything inside him buzzed.
“Are you feeling more like Danny or Darian right now?” Easton’s voice curved around something like curiosity or maybe need.
Danny tilted his head just enough to glance back, breath catching as his gaze met Easton’s. “A little of both,” he murmured. “Being bare-assed over your lap makes me feel very Little… but also kinda like a grown-up with… different wants.”
Easton hummed, fingertips brushing gently down the cleft of Danny’s ass, not teasing, not accidental. “And which side is stronger?”
Instead of answering, Danny rocked his hips forward just slightly. The friction of his aching cock against Easton’s thigh made him moan. His eyes fluttered shut, then opened again.
A low laugh rumbled in Easton’s chest, and the vibration reached Danny through every point they touched. “Yeah, boy. I want you to say it.”
“Darian.” The name came out hoarse, his voice nearly breaking on the second syllable. Another roll of his hips, hungry and deliberate. “I want to be yours, Sir.”
That was all it took.
Easton’s hands were warm and steady as they slid beneath him.
One curled under his chest, the other bracing his hips.
Darian let himself be guided, the slow shift from face-down to upright making his head spin a little.
He blinked, trying to catch up, but before he could find his balance, Easton was moving him again, sliding him sideways and easing him forward until he was straddling strong thighs and sitting chest-to-chest.
The new position stole his breath. Everything felt too close, too intense. Easton’s heat, his steady hands, the press of muscle beneath him all too much and too little at the same time. The shock of the shift hadn’t even settled before Easton’s mouth claimed his, hot and sure.
There was no hesitation.
No request.
The kiss tipped the rest of the world away.
Darian’s fingers curled instinctively against Easton’s shoulders, clinging as his pulse pounded in his ears.
The rush of blood and emotion left him floating—lightheaded and heavy all at once.
He melted into the kiss, craving more of that grounding touch, more of the warmth that chased away the last scraps of hesitation still clinging to the edges of his thoughts.
Their lips collided like sparks striking tinder.
The kiss was urgent, consuming, and absolutely inevitable.
His breath caught in his throat, his body instinctively arching into the heat of Easton’s chest. His arms wrapped around his Daddy’s shoulders, pulling him closer, greedy for contact, desperate for anchoring.
Easton’s tongue traced his bottom lip, and Darian parted his mouth on a moan, granting access with a vulnerability that felt terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Easton tasted like mint and something darker, like coffee or the deeper taste of command that made Darian dizzy.
He clung tighter, fingers fisting Easton’s shirt at the collar. The rough cotton against his palms tethered him to this moment, and to this man. It felt like coming home after circling the globe barefoot, every step raw and uncertain. Easton’s arms around him were the opposite.
Easton shifted beneath him, broad palms moving to his lower back, and Darian gasped as their hips aligned. His cock throbbed as it pressed against the line of Easton’s erection. That hot line of contact sent a jolt through him, and he ground down, instinctive and aching.
He needed this. God, he needed this.
The kiss deepened and grew messier. Their teeth bumped once.
Darian whimpered into Easton’s mouth, overwhelmed by the sensation of firm lips, smooth skin, the subtle scrape of stubble, the smell of cedar and cotton.
Every brush of Easton’s tongue against his was a stroke against something frayed and forgotten inside him.
Something that unfurled now, soft and trembling, like the petals of a flower turned toward light after too many seasons of frost.
Easton’s hands slid under his shirt, rough palms splaying wide against bare skin. Darian’s spine arched at the contact. His nipples pebbled, and his thighs clenched around Easton’s thighs. He felt like a live wire, and his every nerve buzzed.
A low groan vibrated in Easton’s throat. It sounded like approval and tasted like a promise. Darian’s heart stuttered.
He pulled back just far enough to meet Easton’s eyes.
They were dark with lust, yes, but also something more. Something that wrapped around Darian’s ribcage and squeezed.
Easton didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.
He cupped Darian’s cheek, his thumb brushing over flushed skin, then cradled the back of his head and pulled him back into the kiss. This time it was slower but no less hungry.
Darian felt claimed in every stroke of their mouths, in every shared breath. Their chests pressed tight, heartbeats colliding. His body felt like it had melted into Easton’s, and still it wasn’t close enough.
His skin felt too tight, too hot. He wanted to be touched everywhere, wanted to be filled, wanted to lose himself in this feeling of being known.
Easton’s hands gripped Danny’s ass, fingers digging into the flesh just shy of bruising, anchoring him as Danny rocked forward again, slow and deliberate.
The friction made him tremble and ache.
Easton broke the kiss just long enough to press his mouth to Darian’s neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin before biting down, not hard enough to hurt but deep enough to make him gasp.
Easton’s hands gripped his hips, thumbs brushing bare skin as Danny pressed closer, chasing more friction, and more heat.
“Fuck,” Easton breathed into his mouth, breaking the kiss only to kiss again, slower now, like savoring the moment was suddenly more important than devouring it.
Danny couldn’t stop touching—his hands roamed, down Easton’s chest, across his shoulders, threading through his hair. Every stroke fed the flames licking up his spine. He wanted more, all of it, but also—
He pulled back just an inch, breath ragged. “You really meant it? That I make your life better?”
Easton’s fingers tightened on his waist. “You think I’d lie to the boy who sticker-bombed the Ranch? You know Master Derek commented that we had left a mark on this place, but I don’t think this is what he had in mind, naughty boy.”
A choked laugh slipped from Darian. He ducked his head, brushing his nose against Easton’s jaw, then nudged just under it to place a soft kiss there. “Still worried I’m too much.”
“You are,” Easton whispered, catching his chin and lifting it until their eyes locked again. “But not in the way you think. You’re too much joy. Too much fire. Too much heart. And I want every bit of it.”
Danny’s thighs trembled where they pressed against Easton’s. His whole body felt alive and aching and fragile in the best way.
“I want you to take me apart,” he whispered. “But I want you to see me too. All of me.”
“I do.” Easton kissed him again, this time with a slow burn that promised more. “And I will.”