Page 116 of Werewolves and Witches AU

I slow my chewing while I think. Neeps.

The pantry isn’t that big. It’s also amazingly well organised… and yet. Neeps.

Neeps from the basket. There are some baskets on the floor, more still in the cubbies that form the lowest tier of shelves, and smaller baskets that contain herbs and things set at counter height. Potatoes are easy, they’re right there by my foot. But neeps…?

Swallowing my cookie, I hinge at the waist and bend to collect four of the bigger looking potatoes from the giant basket of them. Rowan’s hands slide under the hem of my T-shirt to take a firm grip of my hips, and his wolf rumbles a desirous purr.

I let out an ungainly squeak, followed rapidly by, “I can’t find the neeps.”

He presses himself closer, until his half-hard length slots between my butt cheeks, then grinds his pelvis against mine. “They’re right there. Two should do it, don’t ye think?”

“Ungh… Yeah.” I widen my feet and push back a little. “Two should be fine.”

“Take them, then.” He folds himself along my back, and his hot breath fans over my new mating mark.

“Taking them, then.” I blink to refocus. Wait. What?

Growling at the ease with which this horndog can turn my brain—and my libido—to mush, I straighten. “What’s a neep?”

Rowan moves with me but keeps his hands on my hips. Then he helpfully supplies, “Those are neeps.”

“You’re not bamboozling me with that mighty fine weapon of yours, sir. Not until you give clear and precise instructions.” I juggle the potatoes into a one-armed hold, then use my other to indicate the eleventy billion food items set out before me. “Which ones are the neeps?”

“First, we’re going to circle back to ye calling me ‘sir.’ Second, how do ye not know what a neep is?” He points at a basket of rutabaga with one hand, and the other settles into place right on my ass.

“Those are… neeps?”

“Aye. What did ye think I meant?”

“I don’t know. Not rutabaga, that’s for sure.”

“Ruta— what? Milo, I’m making us neeps and tatties.” Finally relinquishing his hold, he impatiently selects a couple of neeps and backs out of the pantry.

Following, I dump my potatoes on the counter next to him. “All this time…” I muse out loud. “Wait, so, that day when I showed up here, the password to the Nest was root vegetables?”

He smirks at me, indulgently kisses the top of my head, then hands me a neep and a peeler. “Aye, and I’ll bet yer next question is why?”

Nodding, I mimic his hold and technique as I peel my first ever neep. It’s deceptively difficult, and takes quite a bit of hand strength. I watch closely as Rowan uses his thumb to control the rotation of the neep for the peeler, determined to be helpful.

Unfortunately, those tendons in his forearm are distracting. As is the width of his wrist. As is his superb manual dexterity when he rolls his thumb joint just so… Is that how he worked me open earlier? I know for sure he got three fingers inside me because I felt that delicious burn, but did he tuck his thumb like that? Did I take more than three? He did say something about his fist at one point, but surely I didn’t…?

Could I? I suck my lip between my bottom teeth and worry it. That had been the motion Tuesday had used—his fist proudly in the air. And when Rowan pinned me in place like he did, when he fucked my brains out… I’ve never felt so floaty like that before. Is that what happened then? When his knot… Did it get that big?

Will I feel floaty every time?

Will he knot me every time?

If he doesn’t, would he use his fist?

Rowan takes the unpeeled neep and the peeler from me. “Go open the window, Pup.”

His voice is strained, and I stare at him for a moment as I struggle to switch tasks from peeling vegetables to thinking about… that, to opening a window. Nodding, I step away to do as instructed.

“I’m going to answer yer questions in turn, because a lot happened in a short space just then. ‘Neeps and tatties’ is the safe word we use because it’s what I always cook for my unit after a successful mission. I like to think it brings us luck to use it that way.”

He adds the now peeled rutabaga to the other and selects a potato to work on.

“But to answer yer other questions, no, Milo. Prepping ye is nothing like peeling a neep, although I do both with love.”