Letting Hearts Heal (17 page)

“Hmm.” With a frown on his face, Wyatt considered for a moment. “How do you know what to put in the food?”

“You can read in cooking books or magazines, there are shows on TV about how to make food, and if you want to be a professional chef, you can either learn from a chef or go to school for it.”

“Food school?”

“Cooking school.” Dean turned his head away as he saw Mason’s lips twitch.

“Did you go to that school, Daddy?”

“Not quite, buddy.”

“Did you?” Wyatt asked Mason.

“Nope. I learned from a chef in a restaurant.”

“Like Lydia?”

“Lydia doesn’t cook the food at the diner,” Dean replied. “She owns it, and sometimes she serves the food.”

“Can I learn when I get bigger?”

“You’re already learning,” Mason assured him. “You’ve helped me a few times. That’s the best way to learn.”

“I’m gonna help again soon.” Wyatt slid down from his seat. “Can I go play until dinner?”

“Sure.”

“That kid could not be any more adorable or he’d explode.” Mason said, moving over to stand behind Dean.

Dean tried to concentrate on cooking, but Mason molded himself against his back and encircled his waist with his arms. Wet kisses and hot breath in his ear made Dean forget what he’d been doing.

“Mase….”

“Yes?”

Mason brushed over the bulge that magically formed in Dean’s jeans every time he came near.

“I’m trying to cook. Food, you know? Oh, fuck.”

Mason chuckled, and Mason nibbled on Dean’s earlobe. “Now I’m confused. What’s it gonna be? Food or fuck?”

“Food now, rain check on the fucking.”

“Tease.” Mason kissed the back of Dean’s neck one last time and sat down. “I suppose Wyatt does need to be fed… and I should know better than to distract someone who’s cooking. That’s how accidents happen.”

“Next time we’ll turn off the stove and have a food fight. No chance of accidents then.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

“You do that.” Dean whistled as he stirred the béarnaise. If Mason knew, he would wrinkle his nose because he hadn’t made it from scratch, but Dean was too happy to care. He’d rather eat a store-bought sauce than choke on something inedible that he’d tried to make from scratch.

“Hey, Mase? We should move your stuff into the master bedroom later.”

“We should?” Mason sounded amused, and Dean glanced over his shoulder to see him grinning.

“Yes, we should. There’s no reason to pretend you’re going to sleep in the fucking guest bedroom again. Might as well have your clothes handy.”

“Ah, yes. Having your clothes handy is, indeed, important.”

“Shut up. If I was a romantic sort of guy, I’d say that my heart was yours. Instead I’ll say that my bed is yours.”

“I’ll write your poetic words into my diary immediately. Maybe press a twig of thyme in there too. Or did you go with oregano with the potatoes?”

Snorting with laughter, Dean turned to look at Mason, whose smile was lighting up the entire world. “You can get the label from the béarnaise sauce container too. Maybe start a scrapbook.”

“And wham. You just broke my heart. Béarnaise container? Dean, Dean, Dean… what’s next? Frozen pizza?”

“I lived on frozen pizza for years, and I’m still very much alive.”

“I’d say.” Mason winked. “Okay. I don’t care if the whole meal came from a can, just get it done so we can get on with it. I’m looking forward to the moving part of the evening.”

“Me too.” Dean grinned and reached for a stack of plates. “Wyatt! Dinner is ready.”

Wyatt entertained them during dinner with tales Sweet Pea had allegedly told him. They were all about the horses in the stables. Dean marveled at how quickly Wyatt had suddenly come out of his shell. He was a funny little dude, sometimes deeper and smarter than Dean had thought four-year-olds could be.

They played a board game after dinner. Wyatt won, and Dean couldn’t be certain if he and Mason had let him win or if they’d just been distracted by their giddy happiness. No matter the reason, Wyatt celebrated as if he’d won the Super Bowl, and Dean made a mental note to make sure he didn’t let his relationship with Mason interfere with his parenting. Millions and millions of people handled having a child, a relationship, and a business at the same time. Dean was determined that he could too.

“Will you read me a story, Mason?”

Thoroughly replaced for the night, Dean watched as Mason did funny voices through two stories. Dean thought Mason portrayed the squeaky wolf really well, and apparently Wyatt agreed, as he sat through the entire thing with wide eyes and slightly open mouth, completely enthralled.

“Good night, kiddo.” Mason bent to kiss the top of Wyatt’s head, and then left Dean alone to say his good night.

“Those were some great stories, huh?” Dean bent down to give Wyatt a kiss. “Good night, son. Sweet dreams.”

“Night, Daddy. Night, Mason.”

Dean tucked the covers around Wyatt, turned off the light, and left the room, leaving the door ajar. Mason was waiting outside, a small smile on his lips. Without saying anything, he wrapped Dean up in a hug.

They stood molded together in the dim hallway for what seemed like an eternity, but Dean didn’t mind. Mason was within hugging distance, and hugging him was perfectly okay. It was maybe a testament to their past that not everything was about getting naked and getting off. Being alone made him long for intimacy. A simple touch was sometimes enough.
Sometimes
.

“I
S
THAT
it?” Dean asked.

Mason nodded, not looking up. He knew he didn’t have a lot of stuff, and Dean did too. He had started with only a backpack, and hadn’t bought much since.

“Canceling the moving van.”

Narrowing his eyes playfully, Mason pushed Dean out of the hallway. “Move it, mister.”

Dean had cleared out half his dresser and half his closet. When Mason saw it, he laughed. “Unless you want me back in the closet, you can have that space. My stuff will fit into a couple of drawers in the dresser.”

“You can put your backpack in the closet.”

Mason shook his head behind Dean’s back. And then he smiled. It really was amazing to have someone in his life who cared. He promised himself never to take it for granted.

After all the hard work of putting Mason’s stack of clothes away, they collapsed on the bed. Not because they were tired, but because they decided that after moving time came naked time.

They giggled and slowly undressed each other. The urgency and intensity between them grew. Naked and damp with sweat and anticipation, Dean settled between Mason’s legs. Their erections rubbed together, and Mason nearly became unglued when Dean reached down to cup his balls.

“Sexy,” Dean whispered against the skin on Mason’s neck. He licked from Mason’s shoulder up to his ear. “And delicious.”

“Please….” Mason’s breath hitched as Dean’s fingers shifted from his balls to his puckered hole. “Please tell me that you have condoms and lube.”

“What do you take me for?” Dean tugged gently at Mason’s nipple before looking up. “After all, I was a Boy Scout for all of three weeks when I was seven. I’m so prepared it’s not even funny.”

“Then what the ever-loving fuck are you waiting for?”

Dean leaned in for a scorching kiss, then rose off Mason and reached for the drawer in the nightstand. He came back with lube and condoms in his hand.

“This is why I love you,” Mason told him. He was becoming unhinged just watching Dean. He might have converted the ranch into something not so traditional, but his body still looked like he worked long days doing manual labor. Dean Walker was perfection wrapped up in hard muscles.

Dean covered his fingers in lube and didn’t take long to get to where Mason wanted him. Mason arched off the bed and groaned deep in his throat when Dean entered him with slick fingers and peppered kisses and damn hickeys on Mason’s pelvis bone.

Mason pulled Dean’s hand away and spread his legs further. “I want your cock.”

Rising to his knees, Dean made quick work of sheathing himself in a condom. He lowered himself onto Mason and lined himself up against Mason’s hole. Their gazes locked for a moment, and Mason wanted to burst with happiness. How he’d survived nine years without Dean was a mystery and a miracle.

Dean slowly pushed inside, watching Mason. All Mason felt was stretching and the feeling of being complete. No pain or discomfort registered.

Dean’s pace was unhurried at first, and Mason let his hands explore. Lips fused. Sweat mingled. Skin slapped against skin. Mason’s heart was beating out of his chest—right into Dean’s.

They filled the room with the sound of their labored breath and the musky scent of sex. They both wrapped their hands around Mason’s erection and moved in pace with Dean’s thrusts.

Mason experienced his orgasm as a blinding rush. It seemed like forever before he could sense and feel Dean’s weight pinning him to the mattress.

“Not bad, Walker.” Mason finally figured out how to make his voice work again, and he went for the understatement of the year.

Dean shook with silent laughter on top of him. “Yeah. Not bad.”

Mason ran his hand through Dean’s damp hair. “Good thing you’ve got time to work on it. Practice makes perfect, you know?”

“Is that so?” Dean licked Mason’s neck, making Mason squirm. They could both feel the evidence of Mason’s orgasm between them.

“Shower,” they said at the same time and then laughed. Mason felt so light that he might fly away once Dean moved off him. Mason felt happy from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He wanted to laugh just because he could.

“I’m not carrying you.” Dean stood waiting at the foot of the bed while Mason was busy with his silly smiles.

“Good. I’m not carrying you either.” Mason took his time getting out of bed, using the time to ogle Dean’s spectacular body. He wished Dean could walk around naked all the time.

In the shower, having all kinds of fun with the soap, Mason decided that he liked his new living arrangement—sex with the only man he’d ever loved, a bathroom attached to the bedroom. And if he was lucky, there’d be snuggling later. He loved snuggling. They had rarely had the opportunity to snuggle in the past. They had only been able to swing a quick blowjob behind the stables and fucking in Dean’s room when Mr. Walker went to town. More intimacy had been nearly impossible. But no more. Now there was only Wyatt to consider.

“Dean? What are we going to tell Wyatt? How does ‘you kiss the people you love’ cover us sleeping in the same bed?”

For a second, Dean looked like a deer caught in headlights, but he quickly recovered. “Umm… we won’t make a big deal of it. It’s natural. If he asks, we’ll deal with it.”

“You’re the boss.” Mason hoped it would work out.

“Damn right I am. So get on your knees.”

Smirking, Mason did as asked. “Yes sir, boss man.”

Chapter 14

“O
W
!” D
EAN
winced as his hip collided with the edge of the banister at the top of the stairs.

“Shhh!”

Mason’s breath tickled the side of Dean’s neck, and he giggled.
Giggled.
The world was going insane. Just like he was. “Fuck, Mase… oh, right there… fucking hell.” Dean arched his back and moaned.

“You have to be quiet or we’ll wake up Wyatt.” Mason chuckled against Dean’s skin.

“Bedroom. Now. Door closed, locked, bolted, whatever,” Dean managed to get out through clenched teeth.

Dean found it difficult to be quiet when he was turned on beyond reason, but he was pretty sure—hoped, at least—that they hadn’t woken Wyatt when they shuffled past his bedroom door.

Dean explored Mason’s body with his eyes and hands and found that it was excitingly familiar. The boy had become a man, but each freckle and scar was as he remembered it.

Rolling around in the sheets, getting more and more aroused, Dean let Mason take him. There was a memory in every touch and every moan. The unhurried pace made Dean crazy, until he reached the point where he became one with everything—Mason, the sweat on their bodies, the rush of air escaping from his lungs, the entire world. Mason thrust hard and came inside Dean. They clung to each other afterward and Dean would happily have stayed there until the end of time, sweaty and sticky, feeling Mason’s puffy breath in his ear.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” Mason asked, apparently in no hurry to move.

“I think I get the picture.” Dean ran his hand down Mason’s sweaty spine and felt him arch.

“You’re supposed to say that you love me too.”

Dean chuckled. “Sorry. I love you too.”

“It’s no fun when I have to tell you.”

Dean flipped Mason and hovered over him. “Then how about I show you?”

“Hmmm….” Pretending to think, Mason finally nodded. “Oh, all right, then. If you must.”

By the time Dean had
convinced
Mason, Wyatt was up from his nap and knocking on the master bedroom door. Dean never showered faster in his life.

Playtime over, Dean wavered between attacking his ever growing mountain of paperwork and some much-needed housecleaning. Cleaning won, which was a testament to how much he really hated paperwork.