Beckett led the way out of the elevator on the ground floor without another word, his black robe swishing softly against the scuffed tile of the lobby. Kota followed, jaw tight, the earlier jealousy over the massive 11th-floor unit still simmering in his chest. The apartment building's entrance doors hissed open as they stepped back into the mild Sunday morning air. The U-Haul sat exactly where they'd left it, orange-and-white paint faded under the overcast sky, engine still idling with a low, guttural rumble that vibrated through the sidewalk. A few neighbors peeked from windows or balconies, but no one approached. In this part of Houston, strange deliveries on a weekend barely registered.
Beckett stopped beside the truck's rear doors and gestured with one pale hand, fingers long and elegant. "The onyx monolith awaits. Its vibrational field must be stabilized within the elevated domicile before solar noon disrupts the alignment."
Kota sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. The sound came out louder than he intended, full of exhaustion and resentment. He'd already hauled the couch upstairs alone for all practical purposes. Now this. He walked to the back of the U-Haul, grabbed the edge of the heavy wrapped object, and started dragging. The onyx monolith was enormous—eight feet tall even when tilted, wrapped in thick foam padding and secured with industrial straps. Its weight hit him immediately, a dense, unyielding mass that made the muscles in his arms and back scream in protest. The base scraped loudly against the truck bed as he pulled it toward the edge.
"Help me with the other end," Kota grunted, straining. "It's too heavy for one person."
Beckett remained perfectly still, hands clasped in front of him, face blank behind the sunglasses. "Negative. I must decline. Tearing a muscle would compromise the fellowship's operational capacity. My skeletal structure is optimized for ritual precision, not manual exertion. A strained deltoid or latissimus dorsi could require weeks of recovery, during which chakra attunements would suffer. The monolith's mass distribution—approximately 450 pounds of polished onyx with a specific gravity of 2.9—necessitates careful handling to avoid micro-fractures in the crystalline lattice. Such damage would nullify its grounding properties. I calculate a 73% risk of injury to my frame if I assist in the initial extraction phase. Therefore, your superior musculature, developed through athletic conditioning and recent physical labor, makes you the designated bearer for this segment."
Kota stared at him, breathing hard already. Beckett's monotone lecture continued without pause, as if he were reading from an invisible manual.
"Furthermore, the robe's fabric, while aesthetically aligned with ceremonial tradition, offers minimal tensile support for heavy lifting. The sleeves could snag on the straps, leading to imbalance. My core temperature regulation is delicate; excessive strain might induce perspiration incompatible with the sterile energetic field I maintain. Past observations indicate that physical labor beyond light crystal rearrangement results in a 14% drop in my aura coherence. You, however, exhibit robust recovery metrics. Your recent activities with Theodore—evidenced by the residual pheromones and minor dermal abrasions—demonstrate elevated testosterone and lactic acid tolerance. Thus, the logical allocation of effort falls to you."
Kota bit back a curse and bit the bullet. He gripped the padded base tighter, planted his feet, and dragged the monolith fully out of the U-Haul. The wrapped crystal thudded onto the sidewalk with a heavy, resonant sound that seemed to echo up the building. His arms burned, veins standing out against his dark skin. Sweat immediately prickled along his hairline and down his spine, soaking into the hoodie. He adjusted his grip, leaning his full weight into it, and began hauling the massive thing toward the building entrance. Each step was a grind—the onyx's bulk catching on every crack in the concrete, forcing him to lift and pivot repeatedly. His thighs flexed hard, calves tightening as he fought for traction.
Beckett walked alongside, hands still clasped, robe fluttering slightly in the breeze. He offered no physical help, only words.
"The angle of approach to the entrance is optimal at 27 degrees from the curb. Maintain steady pressure on the lower third to prevent tipping. Your form is adequate—posture upright, core engaged. This demonstrates commendable discipline despite your earlier sperm expenditure."
Kota ignored him, teeth gritted, dragging the monolith through the lobby doors. The ancient elevator waited, doors propped open with a battered wooden wedge someone had left there. He maneuvered the crystal inside at a sharp diagonal angle, tilting it carefully. The top scraped the ceiling with a grating sound, but it fit—just barely. The padded length wedged diagonally from corner to corner, leaving barely enough room for both of them to squeeze in beside it. Kota pressed his back against one wall, the onyx's bulk pinning him in place. Beckett slipped in last, the doors closing with a tired groan.
The elevator lurched upward. Kota's arms trembled from the sustained effort, but he kept the monolith steady, sweat now dripping freely down his temples and into his eyes. His hoodie clung to his chest, damp and uncomfortable.
Beckett's monotone praise began immediately.
"Excellent execution. The monolith has sustained no observable damage. Your strength metrics exceed initial projections by 18%. This level of helpfulness warrants recognition. Positive reinforcement protocols indicate that a reward is necessary to encourage continued participation in the fellowship's logistical requirements."
He paused only long enough to adjust his sunglasses, face still utterly blank.
"A sexual reward aligns with your demonstrated preferences and the tether's energetic needs. However, full seminal deposition must be avoided to prevent further waste. I propose a manual stimulation session—handjob—initiated immediately. I will apply calibrated pressure and rhythm to maximize pleasure without triggering ejaculation. My technique includes edging cycles of 90 seconds followed by 30-second pauses. I will cease stimulation at the first detectable pre-orgasmic contractions, preserving your potency for the inaugural ritual on Saturday. This provides immediate gratification while upholding the abstinence directive. Efficiency: 94%. Consent required, but the tether suggests mutual benefit."
Kota's head snapped toward him. "No. Absolutely not. I said no cumming, and I'm not doing anything right now in this fucking elevator."
Beckett did not react to the rejection. His voice remained flat, clinical.
"Understood. Alternative positive reinforcements will be deployed."
The elevator continued its slow ascent—floor 4, 5, 6. Beckett launched into a stream of monotone affirmations.
"Your assistance elevates the fellowship's vibrational baseline. The monolith's placement in the northern quadrant of Unit 11D will amplify grounding energies by an estimated 41%. Your physical contribution is noted and appreciated. Such reliability strengthens the metaphysical bond initiated by the bite mark. Future tasks will be lighter should this pattern continue. You are performing at an elite level for a non-initiate. This merits acknowledgment: your endurance is superior. Your musculature is aesthetically and functionally optimal. The sweat currently visible on your skin indicates healthy exertion, which is pleasing to observe."
None of it landed. Kota kept his eyes fixed on the glowing floor numbers—7, 8, 9—jaw clenched, arms aching as he held the heavy crystal in place. Beckett's words washed over him like background noise, each "praise" delivered with the emotional range of a GPS voice.
"Continued cooperation may result in expanded privileges within the domicile. Access to the chaise during non-ritual hours. Selection of incense scent for sessions. Potential reduction of mandatory weekend hours from eight to seven-point-five if performance metrics remain high. Your refusal of the handjob is logged but does not diminish the value of your current labor. The angle at which you are maintaining the monolith demonstrates spatial awareness and strength. Impressive core stability."
Floor 10. Floor 11.
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
Kota immediately grabbed the monolith again, muscles screaming as he dragged it out into the 11th-floor hallway. The padded base scraped loudly across the concrete, leaving faint marks. Sweat poured down his face now, soaking the collar of his hoodie. His back burned, legs heavy. Beckett followed, still talking in that same unchanging tone, layering more ineffective positive reinforcement.
"Outstanding progress toward the unit. The monolith's safe transit reflects well on your character. This act of service will be remembered during the next lunar cycle. Your determination is a model for future acolytes. The visible strain in your shoulders highlights dedication. I am registering approval in the fellowship log."
Kota didn't respond. He just kept dragging, breath coming in harsh bursts, the massive onyx monolith inching forward down the hall toward Unit 11D.