The Flesh Cartel - Episode #7: Homecoming

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,