Flesh Cartel, #8: Loyalties

it, warmth blossoming in his heart along with his stomach as he took a first, careful sip. Not too hot to drink. He took a longer sip. Stared at Roger over the rim of the mug. So beautiful, still, even after all these years. So perfect in very nearly every way. Nikolai felt near to bursting with pride. Affection. And yes, love.
    Regret, too, for what was about to come.
    He allowed himself one last sip of his drink, then set the mug down on the table by the door. “I’m afraid it’s time,” he said.
    Roger’s smile fell a little, but he wasn’t afraid, and he didn’t pull his gaze from Nikolai’s. “I agree, Sir.” He swallowed hard, once. Held Nikolai’s eyes.
    Nikolai thought of taking Roger up to his bedroom for this, but he didn’t want to do it there. Didn’t want to pollute that sacred space with the memory of what was to come. On the other hand, he wanted Roger to be as comfortable as possible. His den, then, where Roger had happily spent so many hours curled on the couch beside him or at his feet beneath his desk, head resting on his thigh.
    He led Roger there with a caressing hand at the small of his back. Roger began to undress the moment Nikolai had closed the door behind them. Folded his clothes so neatly, took so much care. The same care he showed with everything—and everyone—in his life. A natural nurturer. Nikolai was blessed to have found him.
    When Roger was totally naked, Nikolai sucked in a deep breath and unbuckled his belt. Pulled it from its loops. Wrapped the ends around his fist. He took two steps toward Roger but then stopped. Just took him in in all his beauty, his openness, his honesty, his devotion. Stunning. Breathtaking.
    “It’s going to work, Sir,” Roger assured him. How could he be so calm in the face of what was coming? “It will . I’ve spent enough time with Mathias these last two weeks to know. I’m sure of it, Sir.”
    Nikolai took another deep breath, forced himself to close the final distance between himself and Roger. “I know,” he said. He believed it, too. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t. He huffed a dull laugh, flashed a dull smile. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
    Roger smiled back, not dull at all. “No, Sir,” he agreed.
    Nikolai took one more step, until he was close enough to see the pulse fluttering hummingbird-quick at Roger’s throat, belying his outward calm. Close enough to feel the heat of him. He cupped Roger’s face with the hand not holding the belt, leaned in slowly, and kissed him. Gentle, no tongue, just . . . affection, gratitude, love, strength. Roger sighed into his parted lips, and Nikolai murmured, “I’m sorry,” against the man’s mouth.
    Roger pulled back just enough to meet Nikolai’s eyes, and said, “I’m not.” For you, Sir. Anything for you.
    Nikolai nodded once in acknowledgment, stepped back, and swung the first strike.

There were no windows down here, but Nikolai had kept Dougie to a pretty regular schedule for some time now, and his body had adjusted to the new rhythm. Plus, Nikolai had brought him an alarm clock last week— Always be ready for your master in the morning —and he’d taken to setting it for 6:30, getting showered and shaved and tidied before Nikolai’s arrival with breakfast an hour later.
    But it was 8:15 now, and he’d been kneeling at the foot of his neatly made bed for forty-five minutes, and all he had to show for it was stiff shoulders and a sore back and knees and a tingling in his feet that told him they’d both fallen asleep. No Nikolai. No breakfast.
    I hope he’s okay.
    Dougie shifted minutely, trying to restore circulation to his toes without breaking position. Realized with a jolt of warmth—no, more than that: hope, triumph—that his unbidden thought for Nikolai’s welfare had been genuine. Was still genuine. And Dougie genuinely missed him. Not just because he was hungry and sore and accustomed to a certain routine, but because he missed just talking with Nikolai, talking to him and spending time with him. Not necessarily the sex, but everything else, and with that Dougie could almost believe that missing the sex would follow too. In time.
    Forty-five minutes he’d been kneeling here, weeks he’d been in Nikolai’s care. From the moment Nikolai had pulled him from the dark living death of his tomb and given him water, to the day he’d punched his own client to protect him, to the morning of Dougie’s first nature hike when Nikolai