The Flesh Cartel (6 page)

Nikolai let him, too, for a while. They meandered up and down an endless warren of deer paths and hiking trails in comfortable silence, the leather cuffs and the cock cage and the plug and Nikolai’s hand a constant, grounding presence on Dougie’s flesh and in his head. He let his mind wander, confident in the anchors Nikolai had provided. Finally let his eyes wander as well, taking in the world around him without fearing his own traitorous reactions. The dappled green claustrophobia of rhododendron tunnels, the wide-open vistas on the ridgelines, the soothing trickle of underground streams erupting into waterfalls across the trails and down into the verdant gulches. There was no need to speak. No need to think. Just walk. The steepness of the uphills made his breath quicken, his heart pound, but in a good way, like his morning runs with Mat, his muscles warm and straining, endorphins flowing free. And sure, it wasn’t Mat beside him now, would never be Mat beside him again, but he thought perhaps he could live with that now, could learn to survive the loss if he had Nikolai, strong and steady, at his side.

That thought carried him through the rest of their walk.

As they came through the front door again, Nikolai uncuffed Dougie’s wrists and gave each of his not-really-sore-at-all shoulders a tender kiss. “You did very well, Douglas. Thank you for the gift of your presence.”

That surprised Dougie. “I think I should be thanking you, sir. That was great. You didn’t have to do it, but you did.”

“And now I have another gift for you.” Nikolai put the cuffs back into the drawer by the door, and placed his hand at Dougie’s lower back.

Maybe Dougie should have been afraid at the mention of a gift, especially after the panties, but all he felt was trust. Because the panties had only been bad for a moment, and the clothes and the walk and the conversation had been so very good for a long while. “Thank you, sir,” he said, breathing it out like pillow talk.

“Come with me; it’s in the kitchen.”

Dougie let Nikolai lead him there with a guiding hand at the small of his back. Now that he’d had a moment to acclimate, he loved the feel of the sweater rubbing against his skin beneath that hand. So warm and soft. Strange how the feeling was such a treat after being naked for so long. Maybe that was all part of Nikolai’s plan—teaching him to appreciate the finer things in life, even the little things in life, by stripping so much of it away for so long. Unspoiling him. Taking him back to basics.

Something about that rather appealed to him, in its way.

And made what happened next so incredibly special.

Nikolai’s kitchen was spacious, modern, gleaming, all granite counters and stainless steel appliances and a handsome middle-aged man he’d never seen before, happily chopping vegetables at a center island. But what
really
drew Dougie’s eye was the kitchen table, the one Nikolai was steering him right to. The one practically
heaped
with contraband.

A case of Red Bull. Snickers bars. Fresh waffle fries. Sour cream and onion potato chips. Even a paper sack from Burger King, and the smell of the hash browns hit him the moment he laid eyes on it, made his mouth water so hard he practically drooled.

“Please, sit,” Nikolai said. “You must be hungry after your hike.”

Dougie sat in the chair Nikolai pulled out for him. Or collapsed, more like. His knees had gone all weird and wobbly. He kind of felt like he needed to cry. Over
hash browns.
How ridiculous was that?

“I . . .” He reached out, snagged the Burger King bag with one finger and tipped it sideways. Perfect greasy little hash browns spilled out onto the table. “I don’t . . .” He tore his gaze from the forbidden treats and met Nikolai’s eyes. His own were stubbornly watering, no matter how ridiculous it was. He wanted to thank Nikolai,
needed
to thank Nikolai, but all he could manage was, “You
remembered
.”

Nikolai beamed, leaned in for a quick kiss, and then popped a hash brown into Dougie’s mouth. “Don’t make yourself sick,” he said as Dougie practically swallowed the salty-fatty blob of carbs without chewing, but he was still grinning so wide. “Eat. Enjoy.”

Dougie did.

He demolished the hash browns, then moved onto a Red Bull, which he guzzled so fast he knew he’d get the shakes. A Snickers bar next, and then one or two waffle fries, not the entire plate. They were
perfection
—crispy outside, creamy inside, salty and rich—but even though Nikolai had only warned him not to make himself sick, Dougie felt like it was his responsibility now to be even more reserved than that. To watch his weight. Be attractive and desirable for Nikolai. And even if he didn’t gain a single ounce, he also needed to not fall into a carb coma and end up too sluggish to properly demonstrate his gratitude.

And speaking of desire . . . Nikolai was watching him carefully, his chin resting in his hand as if he was pleased as punch to just be spectating.

Dougie nudged the plate of waffle fries toward him. “Um, do you want some, sir?”

Nikolai, chin still in his hand, grin still plastered all over his face, nudged the plate back. “I quite like to see you happy, Douglas. These are for you. You’re too thin. Eat.”

Dougie had a single surreal moment of thinking,
Fattening me up for the slaughter
, and somehow, truly, believing it. But then it passed, and he picked up another fry and crunched into it with blissful satisfaction, making sure Nikolai saw every single twitch of expression on his face. He threw in a moan for good measure. Didn’t even have to fake it. Inside the cock cage, his dick was swelling, trying its damnedest to get in on all the fun his mouth was having.

He squirmed a little on his chair, driving the plug against his prostate, and tore into the bag of potato chips.

When he’d eaten his fill and then some, he fell into his old ritual of sucking the salty sour cream powder off his fingers, and that was when he realized . . . he wanted Nikolai. Wanted to thank him for the wonderful day. Wanted to share in the pleasure he was currently hoarding to himself in his full belly. Just
wanted
him. And maybe that’d been Nikolai’s plan all along, and maybe all this kindness was just as devious and manipulative as all the cruelty that had come before it, but . . .

But the truth was, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Maybe wasn’t strong enough to bring himself to care. Certainly didn’t
want
to bring himself to care, not with how good he felt right now, how sated and cared for and, yes, even loved. He locked his suspicions in the same dark, distant closet as the nagging voice from his old life, and looked at Nikolai with new eyes. New eyes that drank Nikolai in, held him rapt until they were each the other’s prisoner. Shoved his salty-sweet thumb into his mouth.
Sucked
.

Nikolai’s palms hit the edge of the table, rattling the cans of Red Bull. “Dismissed, Jeremy,” he said through gritted teeth, and Dougie heard the sound of a gas burner being shut off and then a clatter of dishes. Jeremy, the cook, must have left after that, but Dougie didn’t see him go. He only had eyes for Nikolai.

Dougie slipped out of his chair at the same time Nikolai pushed back from the table. Another first: the first time Dougie had ever gone to Nikolai of his own desire. He’d been obedient before, even maybe willing, lost, or just plain desperate, but he’d never
gone
to Nikolai like this, walked—no, slinked, the movement was sensuous and sexy—right up to him and pressed their bodies together, practically climbing into Nikolai’s lap as he did. “May I, sir?” he asked, remembering his manners, even though there was no question that Nikolai wanted this as badly as Dougie somehow did. Still, explicit permission—
never touch your master without explicit permission
. The last thing in all the world he wanted to do right now was break Nikolai’s rules. Upset Nikolai. Let Nikolai down.

“Yes,” Nikolai breathed, and his hands found Dougie’s waist, fingers slipping under his sweater. Dougie lifted his arms so Nikolai could pull it away. It felt good. As fine as the sweater was, being bare felt better. Free. Simple.

Nikolai ran a hand down Dougie’s newly exposed chest, so smooth from the wax, down to cup the soft roundness of his overfull belly. Dougie didn’t have abs like Mat did, and he’d always been a little ashamed of that, but Nikolai caressed him, abs or no. “Beautiful,” Nikolai said. “So soft.”

His hands went to Dougie’s fly next, slipping the button, tugging the zipper. Dougie bit his lip and blushed, feeling absurdly like a virgin. Nikolai had never undressed him before. Nobody had. That was something men did to women, undressed them slowly, revealing the secrets of their bodies. Dougie wasn’t all that sexually experienced, but the times he’d fucked, he’d undressed furtively, like it was simultaneously shameful and a race to the finish.

Now, Nikolai slowly unwrapped him like a fine chocolate, like something sweet and beautiful to be savored, sliding his jeans down his thighs to pool around his ankles. There was a bit of a struggle after that, getting out of his shoes and socks, but the whole time Nikolai kept touching him, tracing whorling patterns over his skin, fingers brushing the edge of his panties. There was no doubt in Dougie’s mind how attractive Nikolai found him right now. Nothing about this was awkward or uncomfortable—not even the pink lace underwear. It was just . . . it was good. It was so good. Nikolai had made it good. Dougie could never thank him enough for that.

But he could certainly try.

“Would you like me to suck you, sir?” Dougie blushed, but he didn’t feel ashamed.

Nikolai unzipped his fly and reached into his briefs, big cock springing free. “No. Not this time. Come here and straddle my legs.”

Dougie tugged at the waistband of his panties in silent question.

“Keep them on. Come.”

Dougie went, sliding into Nikolai’s lap. Nikolai’s hard cock pressed insistently against the base of the plug still inside him. Nikolai took Dougie’s hips in hand, thumbs stroking the fabric of the panties, and then swept one hand down to cup Dougie’s caged cock and tight, aching balls.

“Sir, please,” Dougie murmured, arching his back, emphasizing the curves of his body that Nikolai so loved. He knew he had no right to ask for anything—not for his own pleasure, not even for the right to pleasure Nikolai—especially after how generous Nikolai had already been, how giving and open and loving. And maybe that was the problem; here he was trying so very, very hard to remember his place, to grow accustomed to it, be comfortable in it, and Nikolai was
spoiling
him. Making it so easy to forget what he was now. Who was serving whom.

And even though Nikolai didn’t seem to mind, Dougie murmured, “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean— I mean, I’d never presume to—”

Nikolai cut him off with a squeeze to his balls, not punishing or cruel, but just this side of sweet. He was breathing nearly as hard as Dougie was. “If you forgot your place just now, Douglas, I do believe that’s my fault.”

Dougie nodded rapidly, touched, mute.

The hand on Dougie’s balls slipped between his spread thighs, hooking into the crotch of the panties and giving a hard yank. The flimsy fabric tore. Fingers stroked his taint, teasing at the ring of the cock cage as if to say,
Yes, you
did
forget your place, allow me to remind you now by leaving this here and driving you wild.
But they didn’t stay—one stroke, two, and then they skirted back, wrapped around the base of the plug and pulled. Dougie’s hole clenched, not ready to give it up, even as the dragging sensation half undid him, might’ve made him come right then and there if his cock weren’t caged. He whimpered, fisted his hands lest they clamp themselves onto Nikolai’s shoulders where they so desperately wanted to go, and begged, “Please sir, may I touch you?” Still begging, yes, still asking for things. But not for himself this time. Or, at least, not
only
for himself.

“Arms around my neck,” Nikolai said, and that was perfect, that was
exactly
what Dougie had been hoping for, and he felt so deliriously aligned with Nikolai, so cosmically in tune, that he didn’t even stop to marvel at Nikolai knowing exactly what he wanted and wanting the exact same thing in return. He just threw his arms around Nikolai’s shoulders and laced his fingers behind Nikolai’s neck and let his palms rub up against the soft, thick hair at Nikolai’s nape and thought,
prayed
,
Fuck me, please.

And maybe they really were communicating on some other level, because that was exactly what Nikolai did. Took hold of Dougie’s hips, raised him up and then pulled him back down, impaling him on his cock in one clean thrust. No need to prepare—he was still lubed from the plug, which had loosened him just enough to be tight for Nikolai, only a minor burn for himself but it was . . .
pleasant
, almost, a sweet kind of pain. He wasn’t sure he was ready to contemplate that part though, even here, now, happily straddling his master.

Dougie held his breath and waited for the thrusting to begin, but Nikolai held perfectly still, and Dougie didn’t dare take the liberty on his own. Didn’t even dare ask what Nikolai was doing; it wasn’t any of his business what his master was thinking or how he decided to use Dougie.

Nikolai wiggled his hips, just a little, seating himself more deeply inside Dougie, and Dougie let loose a gasp. Held his breath as Nikolai slid one hand down to his crotch and squeezed his caged cock. “Tell me, little pet—should I leave this in place awhile?”

Dougie’s first instinct was to beg
no
, but Nikolai looked serious, not teasing or angry or mean, so the question probably wasn’t a test or a punishment. No . . . no, this was just like the cuffs and chains before their walk; what Nikolai was
really
asking was,
Do you need help to behave?
Because he’d come before his master once already, and it’d been
terrible
, and this time it wasn’t just consequences Dougie was worried about; he wanted to do right by Nikolai for its own sake. And yes, God, Dougie
did
need Nikolai’s help to accomplish that right now, worked up as he was. Maybe would always need Nikolai somehow, and was that really so wrong when Nikolai was always going to be there?