The Flesh Cartel #9: Trials and Errors

himself at Nikolai’s feet and beg, plead, kiss and cling and suck his cock and let Nikolai beat him until he bled, until he couldn’t stand, couldn’t think, couldn’t screw up so badly anymore, until he’d never, ever question or doubt Nikolai again. But he just . . . couldn’t somehow. Found himself—half to his utter horror—tightening his grip on Mat instead, pressing his cheek to Mat’s chest and listening to the sound of his hammering heart. His brother’s heart. His brother’s blood pumping through his brother’s veins. The same blood. There was nothing that could overcome that, not even Nikolai’s most complex psychological machinations. Not even his own disgust at how pathetic it was to be clinging to someone who’d discarded him, especially when Nikolai, sweet good loving Nikolai, was right here .
    But look what he’s making you do. If he really loved you, would he ask this of you?
    Yes , he thought. Yes. It’s a test. A coming of age. Hard love, but love all the same. Important. Necessary.
    And yet still his body betrayed him, his mouth opening, his tongue forming words his mind railed to keep inside. “I’m so sorry but I can’t, sir. I won’t. I won’t do this to Mat. Anyone else, anyone , but not Mat.”
    “Fine.”
    Oh thank God. Thank you, master. Thank you.
    “The two of you can stay here, then, until you decide for certain where your allegiances lie, Douglas. I’ll give you the night to make up your mind and will return in the morning to hear—and to see you prove—your answer. Just know that if you choose wrongly, both of you will suffer the consequences, and the consequences will be dire .”
    Yes, punish me, punish me, I’ve been bad, I don’t want to be bad, I want to be a good boy, your good boy.
    “Yes, master,” Dougie sniffled, ear still pressed to Mat’s chest, awash in his heartbeat. Mat had gone still, perhaps seeing the futility in trying to dislodge Dougie. “I’m sorry, master, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry . . .”
    “We’ll see how sorry you are, Douglas.”
    And with that he took his leave, closing the door behind him, softly as ever but the click of the latch in the strike plate sounded so horribly final somehow this time. Dougie couldn’t let it be. He wouldn’t let it be. He just needed some time, that was all.
    Time, time . . . He glanced at the clock. Not even six yet. That meant he had nearly fourteen hours to get his head on straight, fourteen hours to figure out a way to silence that fucking voice and do what his master ordered. He pulled himself away from Mat—easier, now, that Nikolai wasn’t standing over him with his demands; he didn’t feel so cornered anymore, so needful to hang on—and put some distance between them. Mat made a noise at that— Thank God , probably, though Dougie’s “before” voice told him it was No, come back . Well, even if that were true, it was probably just because Mat felt so alone that he’d settle for Dougie’s company despite his hatred. Or maybe because he was jealous that Dougie belonged to Nikolai now, even though Mat didn’t like him, didn’t want him, thought him a burden. Dog in the manger and all that. Well, fuck him. He didn’t get to just throw Dougie away and then expect Dougie to come back to him at the slightest hint of bitter affection. Dougie was stronger than that now. He didn’t need Mat anymore.
    He backed up to his bed and very deliberately didn’t let himself look at Mat’s face. Too hard to get his thoughts in order while watching those silent tears fall. Mat made another noise. And another, more desperate than the last, as Dougie continued to ignore him. “Just shut up ,” Dougie snapped. “I need to think . Please. Just . . . stop.”
    Mat stopped.
    “What do I do,” Dougie moaned, putting his face in his hands. “I hate this. I hate this. I hate you .” His “before” voice shouted in his head, made him add awful, awful lies: “I hate Nikolai. I hate myself.”
    Mat moaned, mournful. Or maybe encouraging. Dougie couldn’t tell, wasn’t willing to look at him to find out. “I said shut up,” he said instead.
    He almost wished Mat wouldn’t, because every reason he could think of for why Mat would do as he asked just complicated the situation even more.
    Screw this. Dougie couldn’t be in the same room with the man, not right now. Couldn’t stand to be reminded of his old life or his catastrophic failure in his new one. He stood, paced to the door, had