Jay I
“Get up, get up, get up!” Luca lifts the covers and wiggles himself up the bed.
Jay feels a lick on his morning wood, and then his head—complete with green elf hat—pops up between him and Grayson.
Grayson had crawled in with him shortly after midnight, the scent of paint and paper strong on his skin. He’d been putting the last touches on the gift he’d been working on for weeks.
Jay had felt bad about that. By comparison, his own had taken under an hour.
Even with the single addition he’d made earlier this week, he’d still been done several days before anyone else’s had appeared under the tree.
Rowan’s gift had only brought the total to six before Jay had finally made it to bed.
After the near-disaster in the kitchen, they’d only just gotten the worst of the mess cleaned when Gideon had rolled in smelling like Quest, though Jay was sure the restaurant had closed the day before.
Dressed in Jay’s leather jacket and biker boots, Gideon had looked like he’d been out committing felonies instead of making quiche.
It was worrying that both Leo and Nix had whimpered, while Luca had just climbed on his soulmate’s back, declaring he’d been a bad, bad boy.
Hotter than fire, sure—but Jay had caught thunder and lightning in his scent and something like sadness behind his eyes.
“Hey—hey—hey,” Luca giggles before sliding right on top of Jay, sitting up so that Jay’s morning wood slides right up between his cheeks. Jay can feel the rough edge of a plug, and the idea that someone has enjoyed his mate already sends a slither of desire coiling through his belly.
“What the fuck time is it?” Grayson groans, rolling out of the way of Luca’s excited bouncing and occasional flailing knee. He pinches Luca’s nipple in retaliation for the disruption and grins at the outraged squeak. Satisfied, he vanishes into the bathroom without another word.
Jay and Luca’s twin sighs follow him—and his work-of-art-ass—out.
“Hey, baby. What’s got you feeling good this morning?” Besides the obvious plug, no doubt pressed up against his prostate.
Luca’s tiny dick is hard against the front of his long red T-shirt, chosen for the festivities. It says You Can Cum Down My Chimney on the front. The image is of an actual chimney with a bare-assed pair of legs sticking out, upside down. The tiny ass looks remarkably familiar.
“I like your shirt, by the way.”
“Ooh, me too! I got it at the mall when I went to get a jar for my—”
“Luc.” Gideon appears at the doorway, arms crossed, the scent of cinnamon buns following him in from the kitchen.
Jay’s stomach rumbles at the thought of freshly baked treats, but if Gideon says there’s time, he’s going to fulfill Luca’s T-shirt’s invitation and open his first Christmas gift of the day.
But as if he can read Jay’s mind, he’s already shaking his head. “Nope. We have to get this show on the road. Rowan is going to gnaw his leg off if we don’t get these gifts done in the next ten minutes.”
Poor baby has been working day and night for the full two weeks at whatever he’s been making. Yes, Jay knows exactly how long his mates have been working on their Secret Santa projects, and the moment each one went under the tree. He’s sure he’s almost pieced together who got whom in the exchange.
He knows he shouldn’t care about guessing—it’s supposed to be a surprise, after all—but anyone who knows Jay knows better. Give him too much time and a puzzle to solve, and there’s no way he’ll leave it alone. It’s both a blessing and a curse.
“Go find Finnie, baby. You’re distracting.”
So that’s a no to fucking Luca then.
Sighing, he has even more regrets when Grayson exits the bathroom with a hard-on and zero shame. He wants to whine and complain about looking gift-elves in the mouth, but he does as he’s told and dresses quickly, tossing a similarly grumbling Grayson a pair of shorts and a tank top.
“Let’s go!” Luca shrieks with glee and races past Gideon, who manages a hard spank to his ass before following him out.
Luca’s “We’re coming!!” echoes after them.
“Don’t I wish that were true,” Grayson growls. “What’s got Gid all Scrooge-no-fuck?”
“Not sure,” Jay answers, even though it’s not quite true. Christmas is hard on almost everyone in the Rhodes Pack for different reasons. Most of it has to do with family shit and hard memories. With the happy exception of Leo, whose only challenge with the season seems to be restraint.
They’ve stopped at the top of the stairs, Grayson on the first step down. Turning to face Jay, he gathers his long hair at the nape of his neck, twisting it into a messy knot. “You’re on it, though? Like, there’s more bugging him than just the Christmas blues, right?”
He’s right. This year, it’s more than just missing his mother. Something is riding Gideon hard, and when the tinsel settles, Jay is going to spend more time figuring out what it is.
Now isn’t the time to get into it, so Jay kisses the top of his mate’s head and gives him a nudge to get going.
“I’m already on it. Now go before there’s no breakfast left.
” His heart twinges when his fellow enigma mate accepts Jay’s promise without challenge or question.
A gift Jay is grateful for, not just today but always.
They’re the last to arrive, and the coffee table is covered in plates of fresh cinnamon buns, coffee of all temperatures, juice, and a bowl of fresh fruit.
As usual, Jay is drawn to a spot beside Nix, who is eating fruit from Rowan’s fingers.
The baby-alpha, thankfully, is not pacing like a caged wolf.
Instead, he’s kneeling on the floor at the end of the sectional, fixated on their omega’s red lips closing around his fingers as he accepts blueberries, one by one.
Grayson cracks the sliding glass door and breathes deeply of the frosty air, only to growl at the sight of Rowan’s fixation. Without hesitation, he squeezes in on the far end of the sofa, putting himself directly in between Rowan and Nix.
It’s a deliberate poking of the bear…or Rowan’s wolf.
Jay cannot understand why Grayson is so intent on provoking Rowan’s instincts when it comes to Nix.
Grayson is the least jealous person—or had been, until Nix became pregnant.
But Jay thinks it’s not about Nix all the time.
Sometimes it’s just about Rowan: the reaction, the battle, the pitting himself against the biggest wolf in the room.
Where he’d never been interested in anything but the path to least resistance, this new Grayson was touchy, irritable, and battle-ready.
He’s also smart enough to aim at the only mate in their pack where the consequences are low and whatever reward he’s looking for is high.
Before Rowan can take Grayson to the floor and pull the tree down around their ears, ruining two weeks of handmade gifts, Nix saves the day with pleading big eyes and a mouth open for more fruit.
Audibly gritting his teeth, Rowan merely pops two more blueberries and a raspberry past Nix’s waiting lips.
“Merry Christmas, Jamie.” Nix finishes chewing and leans in for a kiss. A slick wet tongue, and the sweet taste of vanilla-berries did nothing to help Jay’s erection go down.
Jay goes in for another kiss, and then another. He only stops when Rowan forces a blueberry between them with an imperceptible growl.
“Ro, fuck-off—” The soft click of claws on wood draws his attention just before the cushion dips beside him. She huffs, drops it like it’s hot, and sticks her nose into Jay’s hip before closing her eyes.
It’s a Christmas miracle. He’s gotten used to her keeping him in her periphery when they share space.
Pack Alpha vibes and all that. So it’s a complete surprise that she’s within reach and relaxed enough to sleep.
He’ll take it for the gift it is, thinking maybe she might let him rub her ears in a bit.
Jay gives up on kissing his beloved, stealing a mug of eggnog topped with cinnamon off the table.
“Morning, baby boy. You look pretty this morning.” Nix was dressed in a pale yellow onesie similar to the one Luca had on last night, and every night this week.
When Jay checks the hood hanging down his mate’s back, he sees a tiny beak and a red comb on top of the hood, like a baby rooster.
“It’s a little cock,” Luca giggles from Finn’s lap. He’s alternating between slurping Finn’s coffee and letting Leo put strawberries in his mouth, a grimace at the combined flavors scrunching his face every time.
Nix’s cheeks heat, and he whines, “Luc!”
“It’s a perfect cock, is what it is,” Jay whispers. The words are so cringe, but if it makes Nix smile, he’ll do it for eternity. “Let’s do this gift thing. What’s the plan, Finn?”
“Doesn’t matter to me. Rowan, why don’t you get it over with? You’re ramping everyone up.”
It’s true. Rowan’s antsy growls and anxious scent are setting the pack into a low simmer.
It probably didn’t help that Grayson was still trying to piss Rowan off every chance he got—poking his shoulder, stealing fruit from Nix’s bowl that he knows is off-limits while Rowan is doing his feeding thing, bony bare toes tucked under the edge of Rowan’s pant leg so he can pull at his leg hair.
Jay grits his teeth; he’ll have to talk to him again. This can’t keep up indefinitely; two fighting enigmas will make the next thirty weeks unbearable.
Nix takes his bowl of fruit from Rowan, keeping it well out of reach of his pesky soulmate. “You can do it, Ro!”
“Fuck.” The baby alpha stands and cracks his neck. He finds a flat box under the tree, tosses it into Grayson’s lap, and then stands, arms crossed. “There. Merry Fucking Christmas.” It sounds more like I hope you choke, asshole, rather than a festive greeting.
Grayson’s eyes pop wide and fly straight to Rowan’s face. His shoulders droop, and maybe he’s a little ashamed. “Thanks, Ro.”
“Well, don’t keep us waiting! Open it,” Gideon grouses. “At this rate, I’ll never get that damn turkey in the oven.”
“Fine. Fine,” he whispers. He’s turning the box over, looking for where it opens. The wrapping is so bad that even Jay can see the end where the rough edges are held together with too much tape. “The paper is beautiful, Ro.”
“It really is. Where’d you get it?” Leo asks, picking up his second cinnamon bun, this time ignoring Luca’s open mouth and quiet chirping noises. He puts three-quarters of it in his mouth in one bite, and then the rest once he’s masticated it enough that there’s room.
“In your wrapping room.”
“Really? Huh. Maybe I ordered it and I don’t remember.”
That makes Jay’s brain hurt, because there has never been a truer statement when it comes to Leo Costas and online shopping.
While they’d been discussing the wrapping paper, Grayson had carefully removed the tape and the paper. Inside is a plain black box. When he lifts the lid, he freezes. He pulls out a very, very poorly knitted scarf. After placing the box on the floor, Grayson stands so he can get the full effect.
It’s a beautiful color. If Jay has to guess, it’s the exact color of Grayson’s cock. He keeps that tidbit to himself, but when he glances at Luca, Leo has his hand over Luca’s mouth, preventing him from saying the same thing and ruining the moment.
The scarf has to be eight feet long, at least eighteen inches wide at one end, and maybe ten at the other.
With at least twenty randomly dropped stitches and a single hole near the bottom, big enough for a fist to fit through, it’s not anywhere near perfect.
But none of that stops Grayson from wrapping it around and around and around his neck until he’s covered from his chest to his nose in rose-colored wool.
Wrapped like that, the holes aren’t as visible, and it looks beautiful with Grayson’s skin.
His blue eyes seem to glow with something electric, and when he speaks, his normally smooth tone is rough with something Jay could only describe as a surplus of emotion. “I love it.”
Rowan looks uncertain. He hates the scrutiny, and when you add in the fear of disappointing his mate, he’s pumping out more rum than spice. “You do? Even if I made it?”
Grayson approaches him slowly so he can take his face in his palms. He leans in to get a kiss, only to realize his mouth is still covered by the wool. “Could you give a guy a hand?” he whispers.
Rowan smiles his biggest smile and pulls the scarf away so he can claim his reward.
Nix sniffs beside him, and Jay pulls him in under his arm. “So romantic.”
Rowan pushes Grayson away shortly after, when he realizes they’re all watching with embarrassing heart-eyes. “Ugh. Fuck, that’s a relief.”