Lunatic - Necessary Evils #6 - Ch. 3 (Patreon)

Chapter 3

Archer

“Mulvaney?”

Archer jerked his head upwards, realizing his focus had wandered. “Yeah?”

The man studied him through narrowed lids. “I thought the drinking thing was a lie.”

Archer rolled his eyes at the tree of a man standing before him. He was in his mid-forties and dressed like a college professor, with his button-down and rolled up sleeves. He had dark hair and a thick beard, both already shot through with silver. Waylon Boone. Code name: The Sin-Eater.

Waylon Boone had a name that sounded like he should be sitting on hay bales strumming a guitar, but a physique like a man who ripped tree trunks apart with his bare hands. Neither of which were Boone at all.

Waylon Boone had spent most of his life masquerading as a principal at a school for the children of diplomats. In reality, he’d been a deep cover operative and assassin for the CIA, meaning he was as smart as he was pretty. He was also the new Dr. X for the Watch, where he would be in charge of roughly a hundred psychopathic twenty-somethings.

“I’m not hungover, I’m jet-lagged. I flew in this morning after taking out a target that couldn’t wait. And this coffee tastes like it looks. So, forgive me if I’m a little rough around the edges.”

It was a lie. Well, not really a lie, more a half-truth. He had taken out a high-value target last minute so that August could attend the girls’ parent-teacher conference. Even if Archer couldn’t fathom what the hell any teacher would have to say about two one-year-olds that was groundbreaking enough to warrant an emergency conference. But they were August’s children so they could have done anything from murder the class goldfish to solving a Rubik’s cube. It was hard to say.

But that wasn’t why he was distracted.

Just beyond the large glass makeshift conference room was a gym the size of an airplane hanger, and right smack in the middle was Mac, wearing thin black pants that hung low on his hips and literally nothing else, not even shoes. He had been training for at least an hour. An hour throughout which Archer had pretended to look at his phone while waiting for Boone to end his conference call. An hour throughout which he’d sported an uncomfortable erection at the sight of sleek muscle and a sea of freckles.

Archer had watched Mac move through a series of complicated kicks, flips, and jumps, and had watched him wield a bo staff with lethal ramifications to a rubber doll. Now, the man was wielding a fucking broadsword. An actual fucking broadsword. Like, what the fuck? Was this all for Archer’s benefit? Was he showing off?

“Don’t we need Shepherd for this?” Archer asked, voice raw.

He coughed, then reached for his coffee, trying to regain some sense of composure. He dragged his gaze away from Mac and the loose pants that did nothing to contain the monster dick he was hiding within them.

“He and I already went over the first pass of recruits and staffing last night, but—” Boone said.

Archer flinched. “Last night? How long ago did he arrive?”

Boone looked startled. “Mac? He arrived before me. As far as I know, he’s been here since that meeting in Vegas.”

Archer’s stomach soured. “How cozy,” he said drolly.

Boone gazed at him, confused. Were Boone and Mac…? Archer mentally shook himself. No. Was Boone even gay? Did that matter? Archer wasn’t exactly gay either. He had no preference either way. What did it matter? Why the fuck would he care who Mac fucked and who he didn’t?

Once more, his gaze strayed. Mac had stopped what he was doing to guzzle water. Archer watched his throat convulse with each swallow, liquid pouring from his lips to coat his chin then his chest, like something out of a fucking porn movie. He shifted, uncomfortable.

Get a grip.

It took far too long for Archer to realize Mac was watching him, too, watching Archer stare at his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow like a fucking creeper. Mac smirked, arching a brow. Archer scoffed, forcing himself to look away. Asshole.

When he forced his attention back to Boone, the man was giving him a quizzical look. “You sure you’re alright? We can do this later if you wanna catch a few hours of sleep first?”

Archer rapped his knuckles against the table, sitting up straighter. “I’m fine. Let’s get started.”

Boone gave a single nod, then turned and slapped a photo up on the white board. Their tech wasn’t up and running yet as the place was still being built all around them, hence them hunkering down in what would eventually be an observation area for the gymnasium.

Archer gazed at the face of the child before him. Well, not a child but close enough. Old enough to have graduated college. He was an odd-looking creature—rather androgenous looking. He dressed like he worked in a chocolate factory but had hair like Depp in Alice in Wonderland. He was standing in a black blazer with no shirt and a thick black X tattooed over his heart.

“Payton Skinner, code name: The Mad Hatter. Adopted son of Roland Skinner, the oil tycoon. Was raised in Texas until the age of seven before being sent to Westchester Academy in Colorado where he was schooled using Molly’s curriculum and your father’s disciplinary tactics.”

That would make Payton part of the first graduating class from Westchester. Archer remembered there had been much debate about allowing the students to branch out on their own for the four years of college. Some thought it could lead to some kind of murderous Rumspringa, but Thomas assured them that it was a necessary step in assessing whether they had instilled the restraint needed to proceed to the next level of training.

Boone tapped the photo. “He’s intelligent, audacious, and charming when he wants to be.” Boone sounded almost fond. Interesting. “He has ten confirmed kills under his belt and seems to thrive in chaos. He managed to get a Master’s degree in video game design in only four years and, with the help of a lucrative Kickstarter campaign, is currently in the process of designing his own game.”

It was important these operatives had not only the means to hide their secret identities but also a separate life far removed from the shady government work they’d been tasked with doing.

Still, something was off. “Okay, so what’s the bad news?”

Boone sighed, leaning a hip on the table. “He tends to play with his food before he eats it. He has a propensity for torture and violence, tends to leave a calling card behind in the form of fingerpainting Xs in blood all over his crime scenes. Always gloved, but still. He’s also increasingly manipulative. According to his file, he had no problems coercing his teachers into just about anything, despite Molly’s and Thomas’s extensive staff training. He could be a loose cannon.”

Archer cocked his head. “So, why is he your first pick?”

Boone stared at the photo for almost a bit too long. “Because I think I can break him.”

There was an undercurrent to his words, but Archer couldn’t quite place what it meant. It was a very deliberate choice of words. “Is that so? Why?”

Boone shook his head. “Because I was him.”

“A psychopath?” Archer asked.

“No, a hothead. A violent hothead. I thought everything could be solved with violence before a judge gave me the option of jail or the military.”

Archer didn’t doubt that the military had made Boone the man he was today. He also didn’t doubt the man when he said he could break him. There really wasn’t any harm in bringing the boy on board. The program had no problems disposing of their broken toys.

He was about to say as much when a low voice said, “Yeah, but he’s not a hothead. He doesn’t kill because he’s angry. He kills because he likes it.”

They both turned to look at Mac, who was now standing in the doorway with a towel draped around his neck, his hair and body still slick with sweat, his nipples hard enough to cut glass.

Archer could smell him from across the room and it was doing nothing to quell the hard-on pressing painfully against his zipper. “As much as it pains me to say it, Mac’s right. There’s a difference between a kid acting out and a predator with a lust for torture. But it’s not a deal breaker for me.”

Boone looked back and forth between the two of them. “You know the rules. I need you both to agree before I can move him forward.”

Mac sighed, leaning against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest. “He’s risky. He’s leaving a signature behind at crime scenes. That’s a huge red flag.”

“This whole pile of candidates are red flags,” Archer argued. “If we don’t try to rein him in, who will? What happens if we unleash this killer onto the world with zero guidance?”

Mac gave him an overly patient look. “And what happens if he gets caught? Do you really think he has the discipline to keep his mouth shut? He’s been raised as a spoiled rich kid his entire life. He clearly doesn’t like the word no.”

“Neither do you,” Archer fired back, then snapped his mouth shut at Boone’s shocked expression.

A slow smile crept across Mac’s face. “Actually, I’m a huge fan of the word no. I just like to consider it a jumping off point for negotiations.” To Boone, he said, “Do you really think you can handle him?”

Boone’s gaze flicked to the boy’s photo, then back to Mac. “I’ve spent the last fifteen years of my life as a deep cover operative for the CIA. You think I haven’t dealt with my fair share of psychopaths? One twenty-two-year-old kid with a God complex isn’t going to be the first one to best me.”

Mac looked at Archer for so long it felt as if his gaze was burning a hole in his flesh before finally saying. “Yeah, alright. Student number one. Payton Skinner.”

Boone rolled his eyes. “Alright, perfect. Let’s move on to potential student number 2.”

###

By the time Archer stormed out of the conference room, he was ready to commit a few felonies of his own. Mac had fought him on every goddamn candidate, obviously just for sport, playing devil’s advocate, while Boone watched the two of them with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

Archer knew all about irritation. Since Mac had waltzed into his life, Archer felt like he had a hornet’s nest living in the pit of his stomach, and every time Mac came into view, it was like somebody kicked it. He stormed down the hallway, the echo of his boots on the marble floor following him as he went. If he caught up to Mac, he was going to kick his ass.

It would only be worse this afternoon when they started going over the staffing options. Options he’d already approved prior to Archer’s arrival but sure as shit would argue over just to infuriate him. Archer needed to go find a place where he could punch a hole in a wall or jerk off. Maybe both.

When he rounded the corner to another seemingly empty hall, a hand darted out of the office on the left and dragged him inside and slammed the door shut hard enough to rattle the frosted glass panel that hid them from the few people roaming the halls.

Mac slammed him up against the wall, putting a hand around his throat and slanting his mouth over Archer’s, his tongue already sliding inside. Archer refused to engage, no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how warm Mac’s skin was or how soft his lips were or how fucking good his tongue felt massaging his.

After a moment, Mac pulled back to press kisses along his jawline. “What’s wrong, Katniss? You look like you just swallowed a hand grenade.”

“Fuck you,” Archer muttered.

Mac chuckled, the vibration sliding over Archer’s nerve endings like silk.

“I remember you being wittier,” Mac teased, sounding not even a little irritated. Of course, he wasn’t. He got off on pissing Archer off. This was his version of foreplay.

His arms snaked around Archer, bending his knees to grind their hips together, the friction and pressure causing a pleasure-pain that made Archer bite his bottom lip to stifle a moan.

“Mm, so fucking hard for me already. I bet you were rock hard that whole meeting. Were you thinking about me? Thinking about my cock driving into you?Do you miss me inside you? ‘Cause fuck, I’ve missed being inside you.”

Archer ground his teeth until his jaw ached, refusing to give Mac the satisfaction of the truth.

He caught his leg around Mac’s, flipping them so Mac was the one against the wall. “I haven’t thought about you at all.”

Mac’s grin was infuriating. “For a psychopath, you’re a terrible liar.”

Archer shrugged, schooling his expression into one of casual disinterest. “Or you’re just delusional. You’re not fucking special.”

“Aw, now, you’re just hurting my feelings, Katniss,” Mac said around a laugh. “But you can make it up to me. How about you get on your knees and suck me off? I’ve been dreaming about that mouth for weeks now.”

Archer glowered at him. “You really think it’s that easy?”

“I think you’re that easy,” Mac countered. “If I’m nothing special, why does it matter? Just a little casual sex between frenemies.” Did that man just utter the word frenemies? What a fucking douchebag. Archer’s stomach dipped as Mac caught his gaze. “Unless I am special? Is that the problem? Do you need a little romance? Am I not giving you enough attention?”

Archer snarled, crashing their mouths together until he tasted blood. “You’re such an asshole,” he muttered into his mouth.

“It haunts me so,” Mac countered, his hand tangling in Archer’s hair, pressing on the top of his head as if reminding him what he wanted.

Well, fuck what he wanted. Archer had been smelling Mac’s scent for the last ninety minutes and he wasn’t quite ready to go to his knees for him. He dipped his tongue into the hollow of Mac’s throat, groaning at the tang of his skin before dipping his head to tease at his nipple. When Mac moaned, Archer bit at it, tugging and sucking before moving onto the other side.

“Fuck, yeah,” Mac rasped, his thumbs hooking in the waistband of his flimsy fucking pants, dragging them down until his cock sprang free. “Look at what you do to me. I’ve been half-hard for hours just knowing you would be here this morning.”

Archer’s chest tightened, those hornets taking flight within him until he burned inside. He didn’t even remember going to his knees, but there he was, burying his face in the nest of curls and inhaling deeply, taking Mac in hand, stroking a few times just to feel the heavy weight of his length on his palm.

Fuck, the smell of him was intoxicating, like a fucking drug, like he could come just off the scent of him alone. Archer nuzzled at his balls, licking over them, sucking them into his mouth one at a time, his cock hard enough to cause permanent damage.

Mac gripped his hair harder, rubbing his cock against Archer’s face, before rasping, “Don’t be such a fucking tease.” Mac took himself in hand, rubbing his precum along the seam of Archer’s mouth. “Be a good boy and open up for me.”

Archer huffed out a furious breath through his nose. That shouldn’t make his cock leak. It shouldn’t. He was such a condescending asshole. When Archer didn’t do as Mac asked, he caught his chin between thumb and forefinger, prying his jaw open so he could force his cock between his lips, driving into the back of his throat in one hard thrust. “So fucking stubborn.” Mac groaned. “Come on, suck me. Give me what I need. I’m so fucking ready.”

Archer’s mouth closed around him, sucking noisily as Mac fucked into his throat. Archer tore at the button and zipper of his own jeans, plunging his hand into his underwear and taking himself in hand, stroking in time with Mac’s brutal thrusts.

Fuck. He was already so close. Mac had been edging him since well before the meeting started, and now, he was so close to getting his much-needed release. As he worked himself, pleasure sparked along his nerve endings until goosebumps erupted along his skin and he could feel his orgasm building.

“Christ, Katniss,” Mac huffed, voice like gravel. “Your fucking mouth is so goddamn perfect. Almost as perfect as your ass. If you had any idea how many times I’ve jerked it thinking about this? About you? About watching my cum drip from your tongue?”

That was it. That was all it took. He moaned around Mac’s cock as he spilled over his hand, his whole body convulsing, his brain falling offline for a brief moment.

Then, Mac was pulling free, yanking Archer’s head back. “Open your mouth for me.” It wasn’t a request. Archer’s mouth fell open, his gaze locked onto Mac as he stroked himself, staring down at Archer with an intensity that would have made him blow his load if he hadn’t already.

“I’m gonna come,” he said through gritted teeth. Archer couldn’t stop himself from sticking out his tongue. He closed his eyes just as Mac came, his release streaking over his lips and chin, his cheeks, hell even his forehead, before Mac drove his cock back into his mouth. “Suck me clean.”

God help him, he did. He sucked and licked and savored until Mac finally pushed him away with a pained grunt. Archer stayed where he was, dragging air back into his lungs. He blinked his eyes open just in time to hear the click of Mac’s phone as he took a picture of Archer’s face.

“What the fuck?” Archer growled.

Mac grinned, handing Archer the towel he’d had around his shoulders earlier, hauling him up and licking the cum off his cheek. “Don’t be mad, Katniss. It’s just for me. I might not be special to you, but you’re special to me. I’m an old-fashioned guy. Besides, I need something to tide me over until I’m fucking you later.”

It was on the tip of Archer’s tongue to tell Mac he would not be fucking him again later, but he was honestly tired of being wrong. If Mac wanted him later, Archer would let him. He’d be pissed about it, but he’d let him.

“Why are you fighting me on every goddamn recruit?” Archer asked.

Mac plunged his tongue into Archer’s mouth before saying, “Because I love pissing you off. You get all flushed and furious. Nobody else gets that side of you. Just me.”

Archer stopped short. It was true. He spent most of his life as a casual observer. Very little in this world roused enough interest to make him mad. He found his brothers’ antics hilarious, his father’s rules optimistic, his in-laws mildly amusing, and his nieces to be fascinating but rather dull conversationalists.

But, for all intents and purposes, Archer rarely cared about anything enough to make him angry. It was hard for him to feel anything at all, really. Always had been. For as long as he could remember, only the most reckless and dangerous things had excited him. Including Mac, it seemed.

He didn’t look dangerous, but he was. Not just physically dangerous. Anyone who looked at Mac would know he could handle himself, but he seemed so affable, so willing to be the good guy, that nobody realized just how cunning he could be. Nobody but Archer, it seemed.

So, he guessed that made them even in that respect.

“Come have lunch with me, Katniss,” Mac said, taking the towel and cleaning Archer’s face like he was a child.

“No.” At Mac’s arched brow, Archer sighed. “I have to get a few hours of sleep before our afternoon session, and I need to talk to Thomas.”

Mac sighed. “Fine. I’ll see you this afternoon, I guess.”

“Could you try not to be such a fucking asshole?” Archer asked.

“Only if you agree to not make me work so hard tonight…” Mac countered.

Archer huffed out a breath through his nose. “Fine.”

“Good,” Mac said, heading for the door. Hand on the knob, he turned and gave Archer another grin. “Oh, and wear something slutty.”

He was gone before Archer could give him the finger he deserved. Christ. How were they going to work together like this?

He couldn’t worry about that now. He really did have to give Thomas a call and let him know how the morning went.

He’d leave out the blowjob.