Oversight (The Community Book 2)

by Santino Hassell

  Six’s tongue swept over his lower lip and he, once again, did one of those quick scans of the room. Searching for a camera or a witness or a sign from God. Whatever reassurance he was seeking must have been found because he flashed one of those brief tight smiles.

  “I want this.”

  “Good.” Holden cradled his head in his arms again and dipped his back lower so his ass was at just the right position. “Fuck me.”

  Usually when Holden bottomed, he used his empathy to dive into the man inside of him so he could experience both sensations—being breached and being enveloped by a tight ass. There were times when he got so lost in the decadent rain of impressions that sex became dreamlike, unreal. Later, he’d have a hard time working out what he’d felt and what the man inside of him had felt, and it wouldn’t matter because he’d gotten off.

  This time was different.

  When Six parted his cheeks and pushed inside, Holden felt the burn of his ass stretching, the mild discomfort of that large dick impaling him, and then the thrill of being completely full. His mouth dropped open, gaping against the satiny sheet below him, but he only released a guttural sound. There was a rawness to this that he’d never experienced before, and it twisted him up inside until he was desperately trying to drag his dripping cock against the mattress.

  “Fuck, that’s so good,” Six whispered. “Feels too good. My God.”

  “Move,” Holden managed. “Give me more.”

  Six thrusted experimentally, a delicious in-out that had Holden’s eyes rolling back. Impatient demands tried to burst from his mouth, but he swallowed them and rocked backward, silently encouraging Six to give him the hard fuck he’d promised. He was rewarded with a moan so loud, he didn’t think it could have come from the wall of muscle at his back. Milking Six’s cock with his ass proved otherwise. Six moaned again, louder this time, and again ran his palm over Holden’s back before returning to his plump ass cheeks.

  “You look so good like this.”

  “I know.”

  Six brought his palm down in a firm crack over Holden’s ass. He only got to enjoy the sting for a single heartbeat before Six rocked his hips for another deep thrust. It lit Holden up from the inside out, washing over him like a glorious shower of pleasure, and intensifying each time he was filled. Holden gave up on pithy comments and coherent thinking, and rode back on Six. He reveled in pleasure that sent starbursts exploding behind his eyelids with every pounding entrance into his ass, and started laughing in delirious ecstasy when Six grabbed his shoulders.

  His grip was hard, violent, demanding, and utterly perfect when he used the leverage to yank Holden back onto his dick. There would be bruises later, but right now Holden reveled in the crudest fuck he’d ever had, one that was also turning out to be the most consuming. There was no higher power at work, no metaphysics or magic, just the senses that linked Holden to this world. And to Six. The iron length of a man sliding in and out of his hole, the ball sac slapping against his ass, the burn of his hamstring as he spread his thighs wider for more leverage to slam backward, fingers bruising his skin, and the dampness of the sheet against his face from his sweat and saliva.

  “Can I come on you?”

  “Jesus, yes.”

  Six ripped himself from Holden’s body and within seconds of him removing the condom, hot jets of semen splattered onto Holden’s ass and thighs. He didn’t know what was more erotic. The feeling of that sticky fluid all over him or Six’s wild cries as he released. And then, as promised, there was a hoarsely uttered, “Holden.”

  An urgent desire to see Six’s face took hold of Holden. He flipped onto his back and jerked himself off while gazing up into those heavy-lidded eyes. Six was still stroking himself slowly, working every drop out of his piece. He looked like a work of art with his long hair damp and messy and the moonlight illuminating his heaving chest.

  It didn’t take long for Holden to come, but when he did, the world seemed to blur around him as awareness briefly went away. When it returned, Holden was gasping and moaning, and he was completely covered in semen.

  “My God. You’re incredible, Six. I can’t believe those people kept you isolated for so long.”

  It was a thoughtless statement, but suddenly the quiet that had covered them since the cab ride was gone. The hum of vibrations from the world around them closed in on Holden. Most of them were dim except for a single glow of warmth and pleasure and happiness that was emitting right . . . from Six.

  Holden’s postorgasm daze vanished. He pushed his elbows against the bed to halfway sit up, but before he could even finish the motion, the shroud returned and all was quiet again. He thought at first that he’d imagined the connection. One look at Six proved otherwise. He’d sat back on his haunches, still panting, and was gazing at Holden with open astonishment.

  “Holy shit,” Holden whispered. “I felt you. I fucking felt you.”

  “I felt you too,” Six said hoarsely.

  “What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know, but I have to tell you something.”

  Holden did sit up this time. “Tell me.”

  Six bowed his head, took one last long, deep breath, and then glanced up again. “I’m not Community.”

  Holden’s brows snapped together. “Then what are you?”

  “I’m Ex-Comm.”

  The heat of their bodies drained away, and goose bumps spread over Holden’s skin. He blinked up at Six without speaking, waiting for this to be the joke of an awkward man who wasn’t too good at making funnies, but the punch line never came. Instead, a flash of horror crossed Six’s face as though he instantly regretted his confession.

  “I need to shower.”

  Six held up a hand but didn’t do anything with it. “Holden—”

  “Can you move?”

  Six’s hand dropped to his side, and his default expression returned. Dead eyes. Blank face. Tight mouth.

  He shifted over and sat on the edge of the bed so stiffly it seemed he was the one who’d just been fucked within an inch of his life. Holden scooted off the bed and stood, turning away. Not wanting to see those loosely curled hands. The confession. Or the way the right words had blasted through Six’s mental shield and exposed the flood of affection that had been pouring out of him. It could have just been the endorphin rush of his first bang and Holden’s schmoopy words, but maybe it was also possible that he’d actually felt something more than an orgasm.

  Holden shivered and swiftly walked from his bedroom to the narrow bathroom just down the hall. The heat wasn’t turned on, which could have explained his chills, but it was more likely the realization that he was surrounded by a conspiracy. Or in the middle of one? Actively participating in it? He had a lot of questions, but one thing was clear: he’d just had sex with someone who was basically a double fucking agent. Holden hadn’t felt any ulterior motives in that postorgasmic glow, but there had to be a reason Six had stayed at the Farm for all those years, and why he’d taken the job to spy on Holden, when it had nothing to do with devotion or obligation to the Comm.

  Once in the shower, Holden tilted his head against the tiled wall and closed his eyes. The water was too hot and the steam was billowing too much for such a tiny space, but he needed Six’s touch to be scorched from his flesh along with the memory of that brief connection. Even with the other revelation hanging in the air like a storm cloud, one thing was clear—it was definitely possible to get inside of Six’s head.

  “Holden.”

  “Shit!” Holden jerked away from the wall and clapped his hand over his heart. “Don’t you fucking knock?”

  Six stood on the other side of the shower door, mostly distorted by the steam and the bumpy texture of the glass.

  “Can we talk?”

  “About Ex-Comm? I’ll pass. I already know more than I want to know about that organization.”

  “Someone told you about it?”

  Holden began jerkily scrubbing himself. “Yes. I’m assuming, like the Commu
nity, that’s a no-no for Ex-Comm. First rule of Fight Club and such.”

  “Wrong.”

  Apparently they were back to monosyllable and pulling teeth.

  “How am I wrong?” he asked impatiently. “Care to elaborate or do you want to drag this out while you scramble to escape the mess you just created by telling me that?”

  “There’s no mess,” Six said. “Unless you tell your father.”

  “Does my father even know what Ex-Comm is?”

  “Yes.” A measured silence followed, as though Six was waiting for a reaction. When Holden just stared at him through the glass without comment, he said, “Your father goes out of his way to extinguish it every chance he gets. That’s not an exaggeration, it’s the truth. He is fixated on hunting down every member and taking them out, which doesn’t work because Ex-Comm is made up of different groups in different places, not one completely unified organization.” Six paused, weighing his words, and maybe wondering whether he was saying too much. “Now we can do this two ways—you come out on your own and listen to what I have to say, or I drag you out and make you listen.”

  Holden twisted the faucet. It turned off with a loud squeal. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No. I mean—” Six opened the shower door and squinted at him. At some point, he’d put on his boxers and T-shirt. “Are you being serious? I fucking hate your sarcastic shit all the time.”

  “That wasn’t sarcasm.”

  “Okay. Then no. I’m not threatening to hurt you. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “Why not?” Holden demanded. “I’m the son of Richard Payne. A privileged bastard who has benefited from the exploitation of every Community member who signed the lifetime contract complete with membership fees and blind loyalty. That’s the foundation of Ex-Comm’s manifesto, isn’t it? That the Comm only exists to take advantage of people. Not help them.”

  “Something like that, but you’re oversimplifying it to be a dick.”

  Even in the middle of a wrenching conversation, there was something undeniably attractive about Six’s brutal honestly and steady gaze. Holden stepped out of the shower, naked and unashamed, and took note of the way that same gaze swept over his body. Once, then again. Oh yes—that attraction had been very real.

  “I’ll listen to what you have to say,” Holden said. “But keep in mind that it doesn’t mean I’ll trade one problematic group for another. I’m not here to take down the Community. All I want is to help my friends.”

  “And what if you have to take it down in order to help them?”

  “You’re going to need to explain that hypothetical.”

  “It’s not a hypothetical. It is a fact.”

  Holden’s gut twisted. “How?”

  “Come back into the bedroom and I’ll tell you everything.”

  It took over twenty minutes for Holden to sit still enough for Six to start talking. He made coffee, watched a few minutes of NY1, checked his messages, and then finally sat across from Six at the kitchen table. He noticed that Six had yet to touch the gourmet brew.

  “Not up to your standards?”

  “I don’t drink coffee.”

  “Then why in the hell did you let me pour you a cup?”

  “To be polite. It’s considered rude for a guest to turn down the offerings of their host.”

  This was not the time to laugh, but Holden wanted to. Then he felt bad for being amused by Six’s social awkwardness. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t been properly socialized and that he was literally unable to pick up on the motes of energy that most people used to read another’s mood.

  Holden grabbed Six’s cup and slid it across the table to line up with his own. “I’ll drink it.”

  “That’s a lot of coffee.”

  “It’s five o’clock in the morning, and you’re about to make a keen effort to get me to betray my father.” Holden raised the cup to his lips. “Being alert has its benefits.”

  Six leaned back in his chair with his thighs spread and hands locked together behind his head. With his hair down, body still flushed from sex, and the lack of clothing, he was devastatingly sexy. It was unfortunate this morning coffee wouldn’t result in rejuvenation leading to more sex.

  “I don’t want you to betray your father.”

  “No?”

  “Unless you want to save your friends.”

  Holden set his coffee cup down with a thunk. “I strongly advise you starting from the top if you expect me to take this conversation seriously. Right now it sounds like the plot of a Marvel movie. Or a dystopian novel. And regardless of my feelings on the way the Community is operating at the moment, I have a filial obligation to not plot against my father. It would take a lot for me to even consider hearing out anything along those lines.” When Six cocked his head in apparent confusion, Holden frowned. “Six, do you have parents?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t.” Six dropped his hands from behind his head to cross his arms over his chest. His shoulders hunched forward just slightly. “Is this the part where you demand to know my sad back story? Try to understand how I lost my way and joined Ex-Comm instead of embracing the nurturing psychic community your daddy founded?”

  “Now who’s oversimplifying to be a dick?”

  Six shrugged. “That’s what you’re doing, right? I may not feel your vibes, but you’re not the first to expect me to have a story just because I’m not the type of person they’re used to.”

  “But you do have a story,” Holden said knowingly. “And I only know part of it. That you were picked up by Community Watch as a teenager, but you tried to rob the place and wound up having your life decided for you by a Community tribunal instead of the police.”

  “The police wouldn’t have done the job the board wanted,” Six said. “I’d have gotten a month of juvie. Maybe. Your people abducted me. I didn’t agree to go to the Farm, but they took me there anyway. And they kept me for years.”

  Holden’s hands curled into fists. “You didn’t agree to it?”

  “No. And even if I had, I was fourteen with no parents and no one to rep me who actually gave a fuck about the choices I was making.” Six’s lip curled. That, and the glint of his eyes, was the only indication that he felt anything while retelling this story. “And they were a board of powerful psychics in charge of an organization who were telling me to go. I didn’t think I could say no. I didn’t know what they would do to me if I tried. So I went along with it, and I stayed because I had nowhere else to go. And I was scared. It was easy for them to get away with holding me there because they knew no one would be looking for me.”

  “Where . . . Can I ask about your parents?”

  “You can ask, but I don’t got any answers for you.” Six laughed humorlessly. “Someone told me they were crackheads who dumped me at a church, but there’s no real way to know. I grew up a ward of the state, and that got old real fast once my mental shield set in. I was strange and everyone knew it. And it was awful. The worst fucking thing for a kid in a situation like that is to be different. The ability to blend in is protection. It’s safer to be no one.”

  Holden looked down at his coffee cup. The still black pool reminded him of Six’s eyes.

  The board meeting where Six’s fate had been decided had been years and years ago, but Holden would never forget the impression it had left on his younger self. The Community acting as judge and jury, and them never once looking in the direction of the slim young boy with the darting black eyes who sat alone in a corner. If it had scared Holden, he had no idea how Six must have felt at the time.

  Something scrabbled at the back of Holden’s neck. Invisible feelings trying to grab him by the scruff and pull him away from this conversation and the inevitable crush of sympathy that would lead to Holden staying still, dropping the wise-guy routine, and hearing Six out. But he ignored it and took another swig from his cooling coffee.

  Maybe this was dangerous territory, and maybe he should
have shut this down and walked away, but everything was ringing true. What they’d done had been abduction. They’d made sure that Sixtus Rossi had vanished from the Earth by keeping him holed up on the Farm for over a decade.

  “Why did they want you out of the way?”

  “Because I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see.”

  The tingle of knotting nerves that had started in the bed exploded into a full-on creep crawl through his body. Goose bumps spread over him.

  “In the CW?”

  Six nodded slowly. “I ran away from my group home at twelve. Left with a friend. Meadow.” Six looked down at the table as he combed a hand through his hair. “Meadow was a telepath. To this day, she’s the most talented telepath I’ve ever met. And believe me, I’ve met a lot. We sensed something in each other right off the bat, which is why we were so close. Partners in crime on the run from the system that was likely going to crush us if we stayed in it long enough.” He gathered his hair together and tied it in a loose knot. “We never got dragged back to the group home, but we met someone who told us about a safe place for psy kids.”

  “Who did you meet? Where?”

  “There you go with those questions again. That’s what always made you so dangerous to the board. And to your father.” Six’s eyes flashed up at Holden. “We were at a youth center in SoHo. There were Community plants there. Counselors who vetted psy kids and directed them toward the CW.”

  Holden frowned. There was something uncomfortable about that. Something . . . predatory.

  “Yeah, you get it.” Six nodded, and the last remnants of his hesitation vanished. “So we went to the CW, and they mostly ignored me and zeroed in on Meadow. They said she was amazing. Incredible. Had so much potential that they wanted her to go to a special camp for special people just like her so she could learn how to really explore her talent. I wasn’t invited.” He flashed a tight smile. “They took her to the Farm, and I didn’t hear a thing about her for months. And nobody would give me answers. So, I decided to look into it myself.”