Stone Cold Sober
There’s a commotion by the door and the sound of several suitcases hitting the floor.
Domino, who had been asleep on Rowan’s belly while they’d both dozed on the couch, scrabbles like the scaredy cat he is, digging his claws in for good measure.
In the next instant, he’s got a lapful of an excited-smelling Nix Rhodes as he straddles Rowan’s lap.
“Ro, are you going to be okay here all alone?” Nix grabs his cheeks and looks into Rowan’s eyes as if he can detect if Rowan might lie to save Nix’s feelings.
He didn’t have to lie—at all.
Was he going to enjoy solitude for two fucking days while Leo, Jay, Luca, and Gideon schmoozed investors in New York?
And Grayson and Nix went on a two-day date to some secret location?
Yes, he was. Even if Finn wouldn’t be home until tomorrow after his overnight, and then only to shower and eat before leaving again to speak at a conference in Cleveland.
Was he going to order food, be the Wolf, and generally do what he wanted?
Yes, he fucking was, and he was going to revel in it.
But he’s not above a bit of emotional manipulation, as previously recognized and stated. “I’ll be fine.” He puts a fake hitch at the end of the reassurance, just to be sure Nix knows he’ll be missed, and maybe wheedle some kisses for his trouble.
There’s a scoff from the kitchen as Grayson loads a cooler bag with water and the snacks, and the sandwiches Rowan had made for Nix to eat on the trip. Rowan valiantly ignores that Grayson will be feeding their pregnant mate in his stead.
“Those are for Nix!” He shouts, although one is turkey, ham, and Swiss on sourdough, which just happens to be Grayson’s favorite. “Don’t eat any.”
“Ro. You could come if you wanted.”
“No, he can’t fucking come,” Grayson growls, but raises his eyebrows questioningly to let Rowan know that he could if he really wanted to.
“You can, it’ll be fun. I don’t want you to feel lonely. Or left out.” Nix sounds genuinely worried.
“He’s going to get into his own shit. He’s happy we’re leaving him here. Don’t let him fool you, Angel,” Grayson says dryly, before dropping the cooler bag on top of Nix’s bag. “He’s going to ketchup on his shows.”
“Low blow, asshole.”
Turns out Luca hadn’t had to say a word about Rowan’s condiment-lube debacle, because Luca’s pretty little asshole does not like tomatoes.
It was quickly irritated, unhappy, and on the toilet for several hours—miserable until Finn had finally been able to irrigate it and put him on an antibiotic and a course of steroids.
The hardest thing for their horny little beta was that Luca would be out of commission until at least Monday.
It’s all made worse by the fact that New York is a kink-lovers dream, and now Luca will be spending it in the hotel room instead of getting fucked in a variety of kinky ways.
Rowan feels bad enough to make it up to him—minus the ketchup lube this time—in whatever way Luca desires.
Rowan had feared for his life once Gideon had returned, but the older alpha had only laughed before telling him about his mishap with wasabi and an unfortunate oral interaction with Jay’s dick. Shit happens, and sometimes it sucks. This time, Rowan had no trouble restraining himself from easy puns.
But Grayson and Leo have had no such restraint. “Fuck off. Nix, I hope you have a good time.”
Nix smiles. “We will, but you call me if you need us. We’ll see you on Saturday morning.” He leans in to kiss Rowan with tongue and teeth, before whispering, “I’ll make sure he’s sorry he was mean. Don’t you worry, baby.”
Grayson reaches over Nix’s shoulder to pull on Rowan’s hair before slipping an arm around Nix’s waist and lifting him off and toward the door. “Bye, Ro.”
Rowan’s just pressed play again when Grayson peeks around the door to blow him a kiss and say, “Love you, dickwad.”
It starts a happy sizzle in his belly, so he gives his mate the finger. “Ditto.”
Grayson laughs, the alarm activates, and eventually, the sound of the hired car fades away.
There’s the sound of nails on the hardwood, and then Tsuki jumps on the couch, to rest her head on his belly.
“Alone at last.”
The hardest thing Rowan does in the next hour is order lunch and decide which of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy movies he’s going to rewatch (Two Towers, obviously).
He walks out to the gate himself to get his Umberto’s order and settles in to watch while scarfing down his three-cheese capeletti.
Gimli is being thrown by Aragorn at Helm’s Deep when he remembers he has a willy to clone (Yes, that’s the name of the DIY dildo-making kit. Clone-a-Willy).
His friend Wade had recommended it, and when Rowan discovered they had a magnum-sized version, he couldn’t resist “adding-to-cart.” He entertained himself for a few moments with the idea of Nix using the gift while he was away with Grayson, ultimately lamenting the time it took for the mold to set.
Alas, he’ll give it to him for Valentine’s Day, and if it went well, he’d make six more, because everyone deserved a life-sized vibrating replica of The Cock?.
Rowan pauses to admire the neatly arranged kits as he passes through the kitchen.
Luca had set out the cement mix, the frames, and the instructions in neat rows.
The thought of everyone gathered around, bickering and laughing while trying to follow the instructions, was almost enough to make him look forward to Saturday.
It’s impressive, and although he won’t say so out loud, he’s looking forward to it.
Luca had said he could even put the Wolf’s paw print on, too.
For now, though, he has a different task to tackle.
After a quick trip to his room for the Willy kit and to change—dropping his clothes in a heap on the bedroom floor—he takes it into the kitchen and pulls out the contents.
Silicone, the mold mix, instructions, and the vibrating insert slip and roll over the surface of the counter, but it’s the form that holds the mold mix that gives Rowan pause.
He checks the side of the box again, and sure enough, it’s labeled Magnum XXL, but there is no way Rowan’s Magnum XXL is fitting in there, especially with the mix.
“Fuck,” he mutters, looking at Tsuki, who is lying on the kitchen rug in front of the sink. “What am I going to do?” He doesn’t want to give up on what is sure to be the best gift Nix has ever received.
He imagines that if he could find something deeper and wider, he could fit.
He goes to his knees in front of the cupboard where Gideon hides his secret stash of Tupperware.
They are neatly organized by size, each with a corresponding lid in perfect order.
It’s nothing like other people complain about, where the containers and lids never match or migrate with socks from the dryer to a magical realm.
It’s a marvel that even the Tupperware wouldn’t dare go against his beloved Gideon’s will.
There isn’t a single container in the cupboard big enough, however, so he moves to the pantry, and finally, all the cupboard doors are open and their contents are spilling out.
Increasingly frustrated, he heads down into the basement and spends too long searching through the boxes until it occurs to him that there are a plethora of perfect cock-sized containers in the craft room.
The wall of vases seems to have multiplied since he’d been down here at Christmas, and it takes him less than ten seconds to spot the perfect vessel for Rowan’s Willy. He slips his semi-flaccid dick inside to test it out, and it is perfect.
He whoops with his success, but Tsuki is blocking his exit, and the closer he gets, the more he realizes she isn’t going to move. “Move your ass, girl.”
She responds by standing up and filling more of the door, so Rowan-wolf growls, and she still doesn’t move.
She’s never been cowed by the Wolf or Rowan, and recognizing a lost battle of wills, Rowan just jumps over her and races up the stairs.
“What’s your problem? I’m not gift-wrapping this, and I don’t need you in a snit. ”
Before he mixes the mold, he sets himself up for the three-hour period he has to be immobile, according to the packaging.
He sets up a towel under a mass of pillows on the floor, placing the empty vessel between two mounds of pillows.
He tests it by lying on his belly with his dick in the vase, maneuvering for optimal conditions and comfort.
He grabs some snacks and a few beers, his phone, and the remote.
Tsuki only sniffs and takes herself outside, as if she’s embarrassed for him.
“Don’t be like that,” he calls after her with a laugh.
After a last piss in the powder room, he washes his hands and thinks about what Grayson and Nix might be up to. The Wolf’s fixation with them is unsatisfied, even after the Diner ‘69er debacle and the resulting condiment disaster. He doesn’t even have to touch his dick to have it hard as a rock.
He pulls the mix toward him and follows the instructions to the letter. There’s more of the mixture than he’d expected, but it mixes up smoothly. There’s only a window of about ten minutes before it starts to harden, so Rowan takes the vessel and its contents to the pillows.
Tsuki is still wisely absent when Rowan slips his dick—unformed knot and all— into the slimy mixture in the glass vase.
It’s hella confusing to his brain, because it’s wet, and soft, if a bit grainy, but it’s cold.
Sort of like the head he’d gotten from Jay that time after an ice cream date in the back of the new SUV.
But it’s not so bad once he’s all the way in, and he can distract himself with The Return of the King as Aragorn receives Andúril, the Flame of the West, from Elrond.
“So fucking hot,” he mutters, swallowing the last of his first beer.