Chapter Three
Shear
They aren’t strong enough. No matter what I did, the mental blocks weren’t nearly enough. I knew that, but I couldn’t seem to make them any stronger.
To be fair, they would have easily protected any of us against a regular enemy. This sort of mental barrier would have made it so even a talented S-Rank mentalist couldn’t gain a foothold.
The problem was that we were facing something beyond that, beyond me, beyond anything we’d handled before.
It left me standing outside of the group, near what appeared to be a shed.
Part of the real world appeared inside dungeons, though never so much. It seemed The Pitt had replicated far more than usual. I had to think that was another side effect of the strange dungeon, of what Yun had done to the heart. Perhaps it couldn’t divide the space as neatly as usual.
I also had no idea exactly where we were.
The Pitt would appear in Southern California, or possibly into Arizona or Nevada, but since we’d ended up inside it, we didn’t know where it had opened.
I had to guess it was a less populated area, since I hadn’t run across too many buildings and had seen no civilians.
At least, no living ones.
Still, I couldn’t shake the sense I wasn’t doing enough.
Yun sat with the others, eating something Carter had located. We could easily go as long as needed without food, but she was different. From her time in here before, she’d explained that she’d never gotten sick from the corruption in anything, so we saw no reason to have her refrain.
“You don’t look so good.”
I turned to find Ingram leaning against the edge of the shed, his arms folded across his chest, his eyebrow cocked up. Normally I hated being snuck up on, but I could tolerate more from Ingram than I could from others.
“The mental blocks won’t be enough,” I explained.
“They’re as good as you can do, aren’t they? Then they’re enough.”
I shook my head. “They’ll slow him down, but they won’t stop him.”
“This isn’t just on you. You know that, right?”
I said nothing.
Ingram cursed, the word low and angry. “Fucking hell, Shear, why do you think this is all your job? We’re all in this together. You don’t have to beat him on your own just because you’re a mentalist, too.”
“You don’t understand. A mentalist fights on a plane you can’t do anything about. They fight in a way all your skills can’t defend against.”
“Pretty sure a blade to the throat takes out a corrupted, mentalist or not.” Ingram took out one as though to prove the point.
He didn’t have his blades, of course. Instead, he had a couple pocketknives he’d pilfered during his search with Carter.
He rolled one over his knuckles, suggesting he’d already gotten used to the weight and balance of it.
He might understand that knife, but he clearly did not understand my point.
“A mentalist can ensure you never get to use that blade. I’m the only one who can do anything about that.
I have to do something about it.” I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing the strands that had fallen forward away from my face.
“Fuck this.” Ingram caught my shoulder and shoved, the action quick enough I couldn’t even consider a reaction. When I blinked again, he’d pinned me against the shed, the metal hard and cold against my back, his gaze staring down the short distance between our heights.
“Are you trying to prove to me that you can handle a mentalist? That you’re strong enough and fast enough to take one out?”
“Fuck, you really think I’m about to play that game with you? I know damn well what you could do to me if you wanted.”
“Then what is this?”
“This is me helping you. You’re going to run yourself fucking ragged if you don’t knock this shit off. If you don’t take a load off, you’re going to break before we ever even deal with that fucker.”
“I can handle myself,” I snapped, knowing my lack of composure sure didn’t make it seem that way.
“Sure,” he said, his voice dropping an octave before he dropped down—to his knees.
I might have been the mentalist, but even I could admire his skills in being able to scramble my brain.
Something about the way he looked there, staring up at me, the way his tattoos stood out in the dim light, the purple from the sky reflecting off the plugs in his ears, it made him look almost… ethereal?
Damn it, I almost could have said the bastard looked pretty.
Clearly, I’d lost my mind.
“So this is all it takes to get you to shut up,” he said in a whisper, as though it was more to himself than me, as he undid the button of my jeans.
They were loose on me, which meant the moment he got that open, the fabric all but slid down my legs.
I had no underwear, and already my cock was hard.
He chuckled, the reaction enough to make my cheeks burn.
“You complain but look at you, already leaking. Fuck, Shear, maybe you should have asked me to do this sooner.”
“Like I would have.”
“Why not? You’ve done it for me enough times.”
“That’s different.”
“How?” He dragged his tongue up the bottom of my cock in a single slow, rough motion like that were the punctuation for our little back and forth conversation.
“It’s different because you need that. I did it because you needed it. It was like…a physical.”
“A physical? And to think everyone calls me the kinky one. Maybe you’re hoping you get to play with Kenyon that way next, huh?” He slid his hand up the outside of my leg, then cupped my ass in a strong squeeze.
“You’re twisting things.” My voice cut off when he pressed a line of kisses up one side of my shaft, then down the other, avoiding the head the entire time.
I’d known that Ingram took male lovers as well as female, but this went to prove the point pretty damn well. He sure knew his way around a dick.
He pulled back enough to stare up at me, and never had he looked so much a pervert as then, with my cock a breath from his mouth.
“Enough jokes. If you don’t let some steam off, you’re not going to make it to the portal, to facing Corsa, none of it.
So unless you’re actually telling me you want me to stop, shut the fuck up and stop arguing with me. ”
I looked down at him, a rejection on the tip of my tongue. Did I want to cross this line? So far we’d done this sort of thing under the guise of him needing it. I got to keep that distance, both of us saying it was nothing more than two people helping each other out.
And even if he was still saying that, still using it as an excuse, we both knew this changed things. Him reciprocating made it different, made it real.
Any desire to push him off fell beneath the weight of just how much I wanted this.
Which, damn, surprised even me. I never would have considered myself that sexual, yet something about the heat of his breath dancing over the head of my cock did things to me that I couldn’t explain.
He smirked, a look downright devilish in his eyes. “Good choice. Maybe cover your mouth if you don’t want to get caught. If you don’t care, though, neither do I, and feel free to moan just as loud as you want.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that would never happen, that I had far too much pride to let myself make such pathetic noises, when he took the head of my cock past his lips.
The wet heat of his mouth had my knees nearly buckling and a horribly needy moan left my mouth. I wished I could have called it a groan, something masculine and in charge, but it sure as hell wasn’t.
I slapped my hand over my mouth, glancing down to find him somehow smirking even with his mouth full. I didn’t love his cocky attitude, but there was no good reason to pick it apart at the moment.
Instead, I watched closely as he blew me, the waves of lust that rolled off him making it all the better. They drugged me, nearly as potent as the touch itself, and before I knew it I was rocking my hips forward.
He took me as deep as I wanted, but even then, I craved…something. I set my hand on the back of his head, not forcing him to take me deeper, just for some sense of control, something to hold onto in the face of the overwhelming pleasure.
He pulled off just long enough to slip his fingers into his mouth—noisy and lewd—but I didn’t get to ask him what he was doing before he had his snarky lips right back around my cock.
Besides, I didn’t need to ask because the stroke of his finger—drenched in his spit—against my asshole gave me a pretty good idea. He cocked up an eyebrow, a question there.
I could again shove him away, tell him no, but I didn’t bother to do either. I was closer to Ingram than anyone else, trusted the bastard more than anyone else.
Part of me expected him to shove his finger into me. The bastard was always impatient, always wanting to take things too far. It shocked the hell out of me when he only stroked, as though trying to relax me.
Good luck with that. There was nothing relaxing about this situation.
The muscles of my lower stomach tightened and I couldn’t stop that rocking of my hips. Each time I withdrew, it pressed his finger harder against those unyielding muscles, threatening to breach me.
I met his gaze, the closeness of that causing even more of his feelings and thoughts to rush into me.
“So fucking hot. He tastes salty, and I want to swallow it all down. Fuck, he’s tight. I want to hike his leg up and sink into him, fucking him until he doesn’t act so damn emotionless. Fuck, I want to drown in his cum.”
The thoughts had no filter, bouncing around his head and now mine.
He winked, telling me he knew I heard them and didn’t give a fuck.
He then seemed determined to get what he wanted, because he pressed harder with his finger until it breached my hole.
It didn’t sink in deep, only about halfway, but it forced my hips forward to evade the sudden and unfamiliar feeling.
I shoved my cock in and down his throat, the tightness squeezing around me in unbearable waves, but even then he didn’t withdraw his finger.
Instead, he fucked me hard with it, never going that deep, but it still stimulated me in ways I couldn’t resist.
I came almost immediately, a thin sound leaving my lips that even my hand couldn’t muffle.
My knees gave out, and I slid down the shed wall until I landed in the soil. The action pushed Ingram’s finger deeper into me, but at least he’d let go of my cock.
I panted hard, my mind blissfully blank for a rare moment.
When he pulled his finger free, I arched my back, my body far too sensitive for that. “Easy,” he said, careful to move slowly, and the sudden emptiness made me miss…whatever that had been.
I blinked slowly, the world coming to around me, to see Ingram smirking at me. It lacked the hard edge from before, as though we’d somehow broken through something we’d been so careful to keep in place for years.
What did it mean?
My mind touched his, just a nervous brush, terrified of what I’d hear. Regret? Did he hate that he’d gone this far? Did he wish he could take it back? I knew better than most just now quickly want could turn to disgust in post-nut clarity.
I braced myself for whatever I sensed.
“Fuck, he’s cute.”
I frowned, because that was about the last thing I expected.
“You know, you shouldn’t fuck out here alone.” Carter’s voice broke through the moment, making us turn to find not just Carter, but Kenyon beside him.
And, yep, there was Yun peeking out from around Carter.
I didn’t know what they’d seen, but clearly they’d seen something.
“Don’t be jealous,” Ingram said, twisting to face them but keeping me hidden. It gave me the chance to right my jeans. “Not my fault I’m a better lay than you.”
“Rude.” Carter crossed his arms but didn’t seem bothered. “Next time do it where we can all see it, though! Come on, that’s just the normal bro code.”
Ingram peered over his shoulder, and once he found me dressed again, he turned his attention back on Carter. “You gotta pay for a show like that. I don’t work for free, you asshole.”
“Come on,” Carter said, following Ingram. “I’ll keep my socks on! Then it won’t even be gay!”
Kenyon shook his head and followed the others while Yun stared at me. At first I wasn’t sure what she’d think—at least until I sensed the waves of lust pouring off her.
Maybe we all fit better than any of us realized.