“Put these on right now!” Cym shoved the jacket and pants at him, struggling with the weight as his still tender feet protested their current activity.
“I’m not naked. I’m wearing briefs underneath.” Bewildered, Fourteen dropped the towel and accepted the bundle. Cym’s eyes immediately decided they needed to confirm the existence of said briefs. Yep. There they were. Covering stuff. Stuff Cym wanted to see more of… What were they doing?
“From your reaction earlier, I assumed it would make you feel more comfortable—”
Cym shook himself out of hornyland and forcefully brought his attention back to the urgent matter at hand and shouted, “Just do it!”
A quick survey of the room had him hobbling over to the hot plate and turning off the heat. Being scalded while running wasn’t his idea of fun, so he abandoned the contents of the pot and grabbed all the packets that came with it. Then he grabbed his bag and stuffed the packets and a few other nonperishables inside. “I don’t know how much time we have, so this will have to tide you over until we find somewhere safe.” He shoved a brownie at Fourteen and stuffed the other one into his own mouth, nearly swallowing it whole in his haste.
Fourteen treated his in similar fashion, if more gracefully, and was mostly dressed before Cym was done. His jacket hung open, but it was on his body, and Cym hoped that would be enough. When Cym finished packing, he looked up to see Fourteen hefting a massive gun from the chest.
“What happened?” Fourteen asked as he slung his equipment bag over one shoulder and began the complicated process of fastening his armor. His eyes were colder than they’d been a moment earlier, thus furthering Cym’s suspicions.
Cym threw a pack of crackers at his chest, and Fourteen caught it without pausing in his task or looking up. “I’ll explain once we’re on the road, we have to go, now.” He ran toward the door leading to the stairs when Fourteen’s phone chimed.
Fourteen checked it and reported, “Multiple breaches. We have incoming.”
Cym stopped so quickly he slammed into the doorframe. “Where?”
Fourteen pulled him away from the door. “Every window, every door. They have us surrounded.”
“What do we do?”
Fourteen’s expression was neutral, but for a split-second, his eyes flashed with life. “We hope whatever is shielding us holds out long enough for us to break through their defenses.” Fourteen’s full mouth tipped up at the corners the smallest bit. Was he enjoying this?
Cym needed more to go on than hope. “How did you feel when you were naked?” There were faint shouts coming from downstairs.
“How did I… what? Do you really think this is the right time for this conversation?”
“Just shut up and answer the question.” Cym knew he was triggering Fourteen’s conditioning with the command and hated it, but they didn’t have time for his fluffy-bunny feelings. The sound of feet thundering in the stairs made him feel justified.
Fourteen gave him a look but complied immediately. “I felt like I needed a shower.”
Cym gave him a glare and impatiently motioned for him to continue.
“I felt normal.” Fourteen paused, looking thoughtful before he continued and said, “I felt completely normal until I got to the stairs. Then I felt cold again. Like now.”
“And when you came back in the room just now?”
“I felt good.”
“And then you put the armor on.”
Comprehension flashed on Fourteen’s face as the door slammed open, revealing a cowled man surrounded by green fire. In a fluid motion, Fourteen grabbed Cym by the the shirt and jerked him behind him while swinging his gun up to bear on the intruder. The air rippled around them as a spell broke over Fourteen’s shield, and he opened fire.
It took seconds to tear through the intruder’s shield, telling Cym the witch was more proficient at offensive magic. His aunt Stella was an exception in the magic community and had become skilled in more than one form of magic. She could shield as well as she could strike and was a terrifying opponent.
Cym smirked to himself. Not against Fourteen, though.
“Follow me.” Fourteen stepped over the lifeless body in front of them and made a waving motion to Cym with his free hand. Cym saw him pulling a smaller gun out of his bag as he went through the door.
Gingerly, Cym tiptoed around the dead man and tried not to think about what he was doing. He definitely didn’t think about the fact that his soldier had ended the man’s life without a thought, because if he did, he’d have to think about how it had made his dick perk up a little, and that wasn’t something he was prepared to deal with.
Once around the corpse, Cym had to run to catch up to Fourteen. He knew his best hope was to stay inside Fourteen’s shielding until they could get to safety, so when he caught up to him, he twined his fingers in the leather of his jacket and hung on.
It didn’t take long before their assailants began bombarding the stairs with spells instead of them directly. Someone must have taken notes from Stella’s methods.
A horrific shriek of metal pealed behind them, and Cym looked back to see that the landing above had been crushed against the wall as if a giant’s hand had punched it. Then with a loud crunch, the steps under them tilted and threw Cym fully against Fourteen.
Cym clutched desperately at Fourteen’s jacket as the man fought to gain a handhold on the wall next to them before the stairs disintegrated completely. Only one of Fourteen’s hands managed to gain purchase before the stairs dropped out from under them, but it was enough to halt their progress, leaving at least two dozen feet of air between them and the ground.
Something black and tar-like splattered inches from Cym’s face, and he let out a small cry. Cym tried to get closer to Fourteen and the protection of his shield, but the gun Fourteen had slung over one shoulder hit Cym in the face. He yelped and his grasp on Fourteen’s jacket loosened, causing him to slip several inches. His overly abused head throbbed in time with his racing heart.
Even with the sudden pain, it wouldn’t have been as difficult for him to hang on if they both hadn’t been doing their best to avoid skin-on-skin contact. The last thing they needed was that kind of distraction, but it seemed everywhere Cym looked was exposed skin—both of theirs.
Cym’s tank top hadn’t seemed skimpy when he first put it on, but now, when he least wanted exposed skin, it seemed like a glorified crop top. Compounded with that, Fourteen hadn’t had time to pull on a shirt or buckle his jacket all the way closed, and it had gotten rucked up during the fall, now displaying an impressive set of highly sculpted abs and his equally toned lower back.
Fourteen’s jacket slid through Cym’s fingers, dropping him even further. He fought to keep his face from rubbing against Fourteen’s exposed hip. If the situation had been different, Cym would have delighted in the view.
The gods were a bunch of fucking dicks.
Another spell went off, pain shot through Cym’s foot, and he bit back on yet another cry of pain. Scratch that, the gods were one great big heaving bag of dicks. He scrunched his legs up as high as he could, but he continued to slide down.
Cym was considering wrapping his arms around Fourteen’s waistband and hoping for the continued structural integrity of the man’s pants when a gloved hand grabbed his arm and pulled him up.
Fourteen held Cym away from his body at arms-length while holding on to a broken bit of rebar with his other hand, one foot jammed into a small dent in the wall. Cym saw that one of Fourteen’s pockets had a glove hanging out precariously and realized he must have found gloves in one of the nine hundred pockets he had on his jacket and managed to put one on while saving their butts.
How was this man real?
