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.”
