They moved slowly at first, Danny needing a few steps to find his balance. But with Easton guiding him, adjusting his longer steps for Danny, they soon fell into rhythm. Easton kept him tucked under one arm as they turned toward the tunnel entrance.
“Where are we going?” Danny staggered a bit and leaned more into Easton.
“My apartment,” Easton said. “I want to watch over you while you sleep. Is that all right with you?”
All right?
Danny’s heart squeezed. To wake up with someone there. To not be alone again.
“More than all right, Daddy.”
His heart swelled and his feet wanted to do a happy dance.
More dignified than that, he didn’t dance or skip, but he pressed closer into Easton’s side and let himself be led.
As they walked, he slipped one hand into his pocket and found the smooth, familiar shape of the lapis lazuli. His thumb brushed over it, and for the first time in days, he didn’t feel the urge to take it out. Just knowing it was there was enough. Like a backup anchor he no longer needed to clutch quite so tightly.
Chapter Nine
It had been a few days since he’d taken Danny over his lap and spanked the grief out of him.
The boy had slept afterward like the dead. Curled in on himself, warm and boneless, one hand tucked beneath his cheek and the other curled into Easton’s shirt like a child afraid to lose his tether. By morning, he’d blinked up at Easton with glassy eyes and a dopey smile, then slipped into his unicorn onesie and padded barefoot across the floor demanding Lucky Charms, humming off-key to some cartoon jingle while rubbing sleep from his eyes with a closed fist.
It had been fucking adorable.
The kind of adorable that made something shift in his chest.
Danny had returned to his Little self effortlessly, without shame or pretense. He’d clambered into Easton’s lap, knees pressing into the cushion like he belonged there, and looked up with that sleepy smile that made grown men hand over their whole damn hearts.
“Story time,” he’d said, snuggling in with all the confidence of someone utterly safe.
Easton had wrapped an arm around him. The gesture had been natural and instinctive. “Which book?”
Danny had shrugged against his chest. “Doesn’t matter. I want your voice in my head.” And he’d shoved his thumb in his mouth.
A small laugh had caught in Easton’s throat, but it didn’t quite make it out. He’d reached for a book on the side table and flipped it open one-handed and read about dinosaurs and rhymes.
His cadence had been soft, and his breath measured. Danny on his thighs should’ve felt natural and it almost did.
But his mind ruled his heart and told him to tread carefully.
He was here, going through the motions of being the Daddy, giving care, and holding the boy. But the warmth didn’t quite sink into his skin. He felt it press at him, not through him. Like he was wrapped in glass and steel, not flesh and blood. His fingers stroked over the onesie’s soft fabric, and the part of him that knew what it meant to provide comfort followed the motions flawlessly.
But the part that used to feel wonder at the privilege and made his heart beat a joyful rhythm stayed silent.
Danny exhaled, all contentment and trust. Easton’s arms tightened around him, but his chest didn’t open the way it used to.
Why?
Why didn’t it feel like enough?
He glanced down at the top of Danny’s head, at the tufts of unruly hair and the curve of his cheek as it squished against Easton’s pec.
Lately, he couldn’t sink into it the way he used to. Like something in him was still braced.
Danny wiggled and let out a tiny hum of approval, curling tighter against him. Easton shifted just enough to support his weight better, lips brushing Danny’s temple before he continued the story.
He’d watched Danny shed guilt. Watched him take back joy and softness and comfort in a world that had ripped those things from him.
