Stone Cold Sober #2
And strangely, it was. Not Legolas, but the willy mix.
It was getting unbearably hot, and not the sexy kind.
Now, Rowan knows hot—when he is lucky enough to fuck Grayson, it’s next level, because 100 degrees Fahrenheit makes for an amazing fuck.
But this feels a lot warmer—burning even—on the sensitive skin of his dick.
It’s so hot that he considers pulling out—and isn’t that something he never thought he’d say?
It’s only been thirty minutes. He doesn’t want to give up easily and promises himself he’ll give it another thirty; if it gets worse, he’ll think of another gift for Nix and write a scathing hot review.
He breathes through it, using some of the same techniques he employs with Gideon when the Wolf gets rowdy. Closing his eyes, he counts backward from a thousand, changing languages every hundred. It’s surprisingly easy to let the discomfort fade away.
He’s not sure how long has passed when he wakes up, but the movie’s music is playing on a loop.
It’s been at least three hours, then. He’s oddly excited to get to the silicone portion of the event (is it weird to wonder about what it feels like to be fucked by your own cock?).
The mix is no longer burning, but it does feel heavier than he’d expected.
Pushing the pillows under his lower extremities out of the way, he tries to go to his knees but the pulling fucking hurts. It’s heavy. Heavier than is wise, and even if this makes the most impressive willy ever, Rowan is still writing a review to end all reviews. “Fuck, ow.”
He lifts the vessel, supports it with his hands, and tries to stand up, but it pulls even further on his tender skin. He’s afraid to look down, but when he does, he can see his entire member and his knot are encompassed in a rock-hard grey stone.
What the fuck?
His heart pounds in his chest, head feels a bit woozy. He lies back down in his original position.
Tsuki is gazing at him steadily as if she’d been waiting for him to wake up.
At least he’s not alone. She huffs, rolling her eyes before he hears her nails click on the floor in the kitchen.
She’s back in a moment with the empty package of mold mix in her teeth, and she drops it on the floor in front of him.
“Paint. Create. Rock Your Garden!” it says on the bag right above the words: Quick Setting Concrete Garden Stone Mix.
“Oh, no.” It’s all he can say. He had been in such a hurry that he must have grabbed Luca’s garden kit mix rather than the willy-mix. No wonder it had been grainy. No wonder there had been so much. Hadn’t Lily said it got hella-hot? “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”
He thinks about shifting, wondering if the magic of the shift would break their cock free, but the Wolf sends him an image of their even larger shifted cock stuck inside the cement mold, and Hell, no.
Tsuki nudges his phone toward him as if she recognizes he is in way over his head. “Oh no. Everyone’s busy, girl. Besides, what would I say? I’m already not living down the Heinz-57-fuck-up. No.”
He can solve this problem himself. Surely, it can’t be hard enough that he can’t chisel it off his dick. Even if the mere thought of it makes that feeling in his belly swoop with nausea.
Rowan is not what anyone would consider handy, and coupled with the image of a chisel and hammer wielded by his inexperienced hands, at this awkward angle—well, Rowan lets that idea go as quickly as it had come.
Maybe if he breaks the glass of the vase, he can use his sheer animal strength to rip—nope, nope, nope. He can’t think about the pulling pain the yanking would entail. He’s not even hard anymore, and still, the cement is holding firm. Maybe he’d deflated a bit after he’d fallen asleep.
Which sends an immediate reminder that he cannot get hard while encased in cement.
He looks at the phone again while Tsuki just stares at him. Probably marveling at his stupidity, yet again. It’s fucking humbling to be judged by your dog.
“Fine. But who?”
Finn is on call overnight. He couldn’t leave the hospital without calling in someone else, so Finn is a last resort because the fewer people who know about this, the better.
Grayson and Nix are off-grid, and while Nix had said he could call the cabin’s phone, Rowan wants to respect their time away.
He’ll have his baby-moon with Nix, too, and does not want to give Grayson excuses to tag along.
Besides, that number is on the white board in the kitchen, and unless Tsuki has learned to read and write, that’s of no help.
So that leaves the New York contingent. Luca would help him—he’s a creative thinker and has no hard feelings of revenge about the intestinal infection—but Rowan worries that whatever the beta would come up with would get him into hotter water.
And besides, Luca couldn’t hide anything from Mom and Dad worth a damn.
Rowan does not need disappointed and concerned looks over a video call. Or ever, really.
Shit. Leo it is, then.
Rowan dials Leo, and it doesn’t go more than two rings before Leo answers.
Only the front of his suit is visible, so he waits.
“Excuse me for a moment?” It’s only a minute or two before Leo’s handsome face fills his view.
“Ro, hey—you’re naked? Fuck. Did you call me for phone sex? We’re out for dinner with—”
“Tempting though that is,” Rowan whispers because it is tempting, and again, Rowan reminds his dick they are encased in cement because Leo looks devastatingly handsome in his navy blue suit and stark white shirt, “I am in a bit of a rough spot.”
“Are you okay?” Leo frowns. “You’re naked at home.” He must be able to tell Rowan is in the living room, not in the wine cellar or locked outside. No, he hasn’t had either of those things happen—this week.
How is he going to explain this to Leo, or anyone? Tsuki huffs again and lies down beside him with her cold nose pressed reassuringly against his ankle. It gives him a burst of courage. “I’m stuck.”
“Not in the wine cellar again? The code is—”
“Not the wine cellar, and not fucking outside. My dick is stuck in a vase filled with cement, and I can’t get it out.” There. Nice and simple and straight (ha!) to the point.
Leo’s mouth opens and closes before he gives his head a shake. “Rowan. I thought you just said your beautiful, awe-inspiring dick,” he whispers the last part, “is stuck in a vase filled with cement.”
“Yes, and I can’t get it out. What should I do?’
“Your dick is stuck in a vase filled with cement, and you can’t get it out,” Leo repeats for the second time, and it’s not any easier to hear.
“What’s wrong with you? That’s what I said. Are you glitching?” Rowan asks. He’s surprised his normally quick-minded mate hasn’t already solved the problem for him. “Are you drunk?”
“Am I drunk? Me?” Leo snorts. “Show me.” He raises his eyebrows and looks a bit skeptical. When Rowan hesitates, Leo adds, “You’re not serious. Is this a trick to show me your dick again? You know I always want to see—”
“Leo!” Rowan shouts, raising his voice to get Leo back on track. Maybe this was the wrong choice. Luca’s crazy ideas had to be better than this. “Look!”
It’s hard to get the camera angle right without the heavy weight of the cement pulling on his now-very-sorry dick, but he must manage because Leo yells, “Holy shit! You’re not joking.”
“No, I am not fucking joking. Now what are you going to do to get me out!” Because if Leo didn’t have any ideas, then Rowan would be in the worst kind of trouble.
“Holy shit. What did you do? How is this even possible—” His voice cuts off, and much to Rowan’s horror, Jay’s beautiful face appears over Leo’s shoulder. Oh no.
“Ro? Are you okay?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“No, he’s not fucking okay. He’s Medusa-ed his dick.”
“What does that mean?” Jay asks, but his genius brain is already ten steps ahead. “What did you do?”
“It’s not that big of a deal.” It is. It is a big fucking deal. Dammit.
“He’s cast his dick in cement. I assume it’s by accident?” Leo asks.
“Yes, it was by fucking accident. Can we walk down memory lane after I get it out? It’s starting to hurt.” He hates it, but the last words come out in a plaintive whine.
Jay’s face crumples at the tone. “Oh, baby. It’ll be okay.
” He’s not mocking Rowan, even though he’d have every right, because this is stupidity of epic proportions.
Worse than any fuck up he’s had, maybe ever—and that is saying something.
The show of genuine sympathy is enough to make Rowan’s eyes tear up.
“How long have you been stuck? Do you have the packaging? Did you call Leo first?”
Rowan lets his stomach settle and takes a deep breath. Jay will fix this. Rowan should have called him first. “About five hours, I think? And it’s right here. You guys are my first call.”
Jay looks up past the phone, making eye contact with someone, and then Gideon’s voice comes through the phone. “What’s with the sad face? Is Ro alright?”
When no one speaks up, Gideon growls loud enough that Ro can hear him, and suddenly the phone’s screen reflects Gideon’s concern. “Rowan Foster, are you alright?” He doesn’t point his frustration at Rowan right away, and his voice is sweet and concerned.
“I’m stuck. I did something stupid and now my dick is stuck in 15 inches and seven pounds of cement.” No, it doesn’t get easier to say, and those tears he’d felt when Jay had been sweet overflow when Gideon smiles soothingly.
“Okay. Does it hurt outside of the heaviness?”
“You’re not mad?”
“No, baby, we’re not mad,” Jay says over his mate’s shoulder. Rowan can hear the indistinct murmur of Leo’s voice in the background. Probably filling Luca in. “We’re worried about you. We wish we were home with you.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if you were here.”
“You always find a way,” Gideon murmurs. “But we’ll get you some help ASAP.”
“Help? Is there a YouTube video or something?”