The Flesh Cartel - Episode #4: Consequences

time he met Nikolai’s eyes. “With me .”
    So certain, the poor dear. But Nikolai knew better. “Only on the weekends. He saw you, what,
    eight hours a week? Ten? You were a burden on him. A burden on everyone. Pattie died of a heart
    attack at just fifty-five years old, after raising you for six years. And Mike remarried and moved to
    Florida and never even asked if you wanted to come with him, did he? He had a new family. One he
    wanted. One he loved. One he chose .”
    “He loved me,” Dougie ground out, every word its own hate-filled sentence. “He still loves me.
    They didn’t have to keep me, you know. They chose to keep me.”
    Nikolai raised an eyebrow, leaned back in his chair. “They were paid to keep you.” Before
    Douglas’s protest could be voiced, Nikolai added, “Tell me, how often does he see you?”
    Douglas grimaced. “We . . . keep in touch. I called him. I called him last week! Well, a week
    before . . . before all this.”
    “And how long did you talk? Does he ever call you ?”
    “He’s busy. Long distance is kind of expensive.”
    No reason to reply to that. They both knew it was ridiculous. This fight was won; time to tackle
    the brother again. “And Mat? Don’t you think he resents you? A promising career flushed down the toilet, and for what? You’re twenty-three years old and you’ve never had a job, you’re still piddling
    around in school avoiding the real world. You’ve made nothing of yourself, done nothing with all the
    sacrifices he’s made for you. The only reason he’s stuck around all this time is because he knows he’s
    one injury away from the end of his career, and what would he do then? One day, he’ll need you.
    He’ll need you to take care of him because he gave up the best years of his life for you.”
    “You think I don’t know that already? I’m happy to support him. Even if he never got injured . . .
    I’d have asked him to retire so I could take care of him. That’s why I was getting my Ph.D. To make enough money to take care of him.”
    Already talking as if that life was over and gone, and he didn’t even notice.
    “All right, then. Let’s accept your theoretical reality in which your brother is happy being
    financially dependent on you. Do you think he’s happy with you now? After what you did to him at the
    auction? After what you did to me this morning? Your brother fights me every single moment. You, on the other hand, choose to spare yourself pain at the expense of your dignity.”
    He smiled at the memory. Douglas swallowing down his revulsion, sucking Nikolai’s cock,
    pretending so earnestly to enjoy it. All to avoid pain.
    “But . . . but he doesn’t know what I’ve done here. Does he?” Such sweet insecurity. Nikolai
    relished it.
    “No, he doesn’t. I know you don’t realize it yet, but I’m not a cruel man. I wouldn’t humiliate you
    that way. But that doesn’t change the fact that you know that if he were privy to our private moments together, he might . . .”
    “Hate me,” Douglas finished. He picked up his spoon, nudged at his applesauce without eating it.
    “But that’s all right if he does, sir. I hate myself, too.”
    “You shouldn’t. And eventually, given time and my attentions, you won’t . I don’t hate you either, Douglas. I’ll never hate you, and I’ll never judge you. If you let me, I’ll love you as your father did, as Mat did. I simply ask you to consider, when the time comes that Mat does know what you’ve done, when he decides he can’t forgive you for having raped him, tortured him, but you’ve forgiven
    yourself , how will you reconcile that forgiveness with his hatred then?”
    More playing with his applesauce. This time he took a bite; he’d clearly lost his appetite, but it
    gave him time to think. He clunked the spoon down. Shook his head. “It’s not going to happen. It isn’t.
    I’m always going to hate this. Myself. You.”
    Nikolai risked a touch, curling his fingers around Douglas’s. The boy didn’t pull away, as if he
    simply couldn’t be bothered. Or didn’t think himself worth the bother. “I don’t think so, Douglas. My vast experience, in fact, assures me otherwise. Here, let me show you.”
    He sent Roger a simple text message—“Come”—and his prized pet appeared at the doorway
    less than a minute later.
    “Sir?” Roger asked, striding into the room and dropping to his knees at Nikolai’s feet. Nikolai
    held a hand out, cupped Roger’s