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Gesturing at the bowl of red sauce under his balls, I awkwardly asked, “What, uh… what’s…”

I trailed off, not sure what, exactly, I wanted to ask. Legs shaking wildly, he carefully straightened and took an unsteady step back. With one hand cradling the pumpkin, he reached up with the other and rubbed his flushed face miserably.

“It just won’t fucking come off.” He was definitely close to tears. Lifting his head, he gazed at me plaintively with those big green eyes. “Ewen. Help me.”

I definitely had questions—multiple questions—but my chest tightened at the sight of his distress. I strode into the kitchen and stepped over the mystery bowl, raising my hands to hover uncertainly as I stopped in front of him.

“It’s okay, kitten.” After a pause, I settled my hands on his bare shoulders to give them a soothing rub. The pumpkin jutted out between us, a big orange blob in my periphery.

I bit my lip hard. I absolutely could not laugh. Rafe would never forgive me.

“It’s not okay.” He grabbed a fistful of my shirt, and I could feel how much he was trembling. His eyes were glazed and a little unfocused as he stared up at me. “It won’t come off, Dan.”

“I know, baby, you told me,” I said gently, skimming my hands down his arms as I snuck a quick glance at the pumpkin. It looked like it had eye holes. Like a jack-o’-lantern. “I’m guessing it’s not, uh, actually designed for…”

“No, it is,” Rafe mumbled miserably, releasing my shirt to scrub both hands down his face as he exhaled shakily. “It’s a… There’s a cock sleeve. In the mouth.”

My brows shot up. I looked down at the pumpkin again.

Well. Alright then.

“So is it… caught on something?”

“No, it’s… Fuck.” Rafe covered his eyes with a hand. “There’s some… fucking sex magic or something. It was, um, s-sucking, and then it started getting tighter and tighter until I couldn’t move it.” He whimpered and grabbed my shirt again. “What if my dick falls off?”

“Your dick’s not going to fall off, kitten,” I said calmly. Even though I had no idea.

Glancing around, I spotted a crumpled box on the counter. That plain black carrier bag was now discarded on the floor.

“Is that what it came in?” I nodded at it. “Does the box say anything about how to stop it?”

“No, it just says a load of useless stuff about the headless horseman being hungry for dick,” Rafe choked out, sounding no less panicked.

My brows shot up again.

Headless Horseman? As in… like a dullahan?

A sly grin started to stretch my mouth. I quickly wiped it off my face when Rafe looked up at me desperately.

“Okay, baby, let’s sit you down and I’ll take a look.” I wrapped my arm loosely around his back to lead him into the living room, trying not to think too hard about the feel of warm, smooth skin under my palm. Or the fact that he was completely naked and pressed up against me.

Glancing back, I eyed that bowl of red sauce. “So, uh… what’s in the bowl?”

“Hot sauce,” Rafe told me miserably, his breath catching as the pumpkin bobbed with every step we took.

The blood drained from my face. I found myself cupping a hand protectively over my own junk. “What the fuck, Rafe?”

“I was desperate,” he choked out. “I thought if I dipped my balls in it, the pain would make my dick shrivel up and I’d be able to get it out.”

“You didn’t actually do it, right?” I asked, voice thick with dread.

He shook his head, legs shaking and unsteady as I helped him into the armchair in the living room. “I couldn’t.”

“Well, thank fuck for small miracles,” I muttered as I strode to the windows and shut the curtains. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if I’d burst in here and found him writhing around on the floor in agony with his balls coated in hot sauce.

When I returned to Rafe, he was splayed in the armchair with his thighs spread wide, hands cradling the pumpkin. Sweat beaded his brow, and he was trying to regulate his panicked breathing, sucking in air and exhaling shakily through his nose.

I pursed my lips hard to hold back a smile. He kind of looked like he was in labour.