Flesh Cartel, #8: Loyalties

was sleeping, but then Roger murmured, half-slurred, “Look, Sir,” and pointed vaguely toward the picture-in-picture.
    Nikolai had been watching Mathias—he’d practically licked his tray clean and then dragged his ridiculously stubborn ass onto the treadmill, even if it was only going at a slow but grueling walk—so he’d failed to notice Douglas finally picking out a plug. He couldn’t quite tell which one it was from the tiny picture, so he hit the key to flip the images around just in time to see something curvy and blue disappearing into the boy’s ass. There were only two blue plugs in Douglas’s room, and one of them was far too large to have slotted in so neatly without preparation. Which meant the boy had chosen the mid-sized one. The one just half an inch shorter and a sliver thinner than Nikolai’s own cock. The one that would leave him well prepared for Nikolai, but not so loose as to be disappointing.
    Nikolai felt a grin spread clear cross his face.
    What a good, bright boy you are.
    Even poor sleepy Roger seemed to perk up a bit, watching him.
    Nikolai slid his hand back up beneath the hem of Roger’s shirt and stroked warm circles on his bare stomach. “Would you like to have him?” he offered. The mere thought of watching Roger and Douglas together made his cock firm against Roger’s ass.
    Roger expertly non-answered with, “If it would make you happy, Sir.” And then, when Nikolai’s hand stilled—a clear warning he wanted truth, not pandering, “He’s very, very pretty, Sir. And clever. A thoughtful boy. He has a good heart.” Nikolai started stroking again, and Roger added with a shrug, “But, he’s not . . .”
    You. He’s not you , Sir.
    Nikolai’s heart (and other crucial parts of his anatomy, truth be told) swelled so hard at that he couldn’t help himself—he cupped Roger’s chin, turned his head to the side, and kissed him.
    Roger opened so fast beneath him it was as if the man had simply melted , all lips and tongue and breathy little moans of want and need and please, yes, Sir , and this time when he squirmed back ass to crotch, there was no question at all of his intent.
    Time to put a stop to this. He didn’t want to hurt Roger.
    “Be still,” he said, and pulled away, and Roger whined but fell obedient, didn’t chase after his lips or wiggle his hips again. But oh gods, those puppy eyes . Had he been anyone else, Nikolai would’ve slapped the attempt at manipulation right off his face. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Roger, his sweet, beautiful, selfless, loving Roger, and the man wanted , and he was damn well entitled to want after all he’d been through for Nikolai this week.
    “Be still,” he said again, and then he toggled the microphone on his computer and called down to the speaker in the kitchen, “Jeremy, when the new boy gets there, send him to my room.”
    He just hoped he and Roger wouldn’t have to wait long.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Jeremy said without turning when Dougie arrived, flushed and buzzing with excitement, at the door to the kitchen. “You’re to go straight up to the master’s suite. Lucky little shit.”
    Dougie blinked, not sure whether to apologize or what. Had Jeremy meant to say that last bit aloud? Was it okay for him to talk that way? Would Nikolai approve?
    “Don’t think you’re getting out of chores though, little favorite. I’ll be saving my dishes for you. Better hope you don’t have sensitive skin; the last boy I had on dish duty got chapped hands and the master spanked his ass twice as raw for it.” Jeremy may not have been facing Dougie, but Dougie could sense his cruel grin. He wouldn’t be surprised if he found out the guy had been spitting in his food while Nikolai wasn’t looking.
    Not that Dougie hadn’t eaten worse at times. Maybe a little spit wasn’t so bad.
    “Don’t just stand there,” Jeremy said, and the knife in his hand was big enough to send Dougie stumbling back a step. Vegetables. Just chopping vegetables. “Or should I tell the master you decided to keep him waiting?”
    Dougie turned tail and ran.
    Well, half ran. Kind of waddled, more like. The plug up his ass might not’ve been quite as big as Nikolai’s cock, but it sure as heck didn’t make walking easy. He went as fast as he dared. Stumbled once halfway up the stairs. Paused on the landing for a moment trying to remember which one of the many closed doors led to Nikolai’s bedroom.
    Left.