The Flesh Cartel - Episode #7: Homecoming

Dougie.
    Nikolai wiggled his hips, just a little, seating himself more deeply inside Dougie, and Dougie let loose a gasp. Held his breath as Nikolai slid one hand down to his crotch and squeezed his caged cock. “Tell me, little pet—should I leave this in place awhile?”
    Dougie’s first instinct was to beg no , but Nikolai looked serious, not teasing or angry or mean, so the question probably wasn’t a test or a punishment. No . . . no, this was just like the cuffs and chains before their walk; what Nikolai was really asking was, Do you need help to behave? Because he’d come before his master once already, and it’d been terrible , and this time it wasn’t just consequences Dougie was worried about; he wanted to do right by Nikolai for its own sake. And yes, God, Dougie did need Nikolai’s help to accomplish that right now, worked up as he was. Maybe would always need Nikolai somehow, and was that really so wrong when Nikolai was always going to be there?
    “Please, sir,” he said, nodding his head and trying very, very hard not to squirm in Nikolai’s lap, on Nikolai’s cock, trying so hard not to chase both their pleasure. “Thank you, sir,” he added, because, God, he really was desperate, and he’d probably explode in seconds if not for Nikolai’s generous consideration.
    Nikolai nodded once and kissed him, forceful but fast, then placed both hands back on his waist and rocked up into him. Dougie had thought he’d been fully seated, taken every inch, but God, there was always more with Nikolai, wasn’t there? More pain, more pleasure, more joy, more grief, more religious fucking ecstasy.
    The minor discomfort of being breached by that impressive cock was gone by the third thrust beneath an onslaught of fullnesspleasureyesexactlywhatIneedyes , and Dougie pressed the soles of his feet against the rungs of the chair for leverage and rode Nikolai in time with the man’s urging hands at his waist. Rocking his whole body, his back and chest and ass all following the curve of Nikolai’s cock.
    Nikolai bared his teeth in a feral grin and growled his approval, stilled his own hips but urged Dougie harder with his hands. “That’s it, Douglas,” he panted. “Ride me. Fuck yourself on your master’s cock.”
    Yes , Dougie thought, or maybe he whimpered it or even shouted it, because Nikolai seemed to reply, lapping at Dougie’s throat with his tongue, wetting the sweaty skin even more and then cooling Dougie’s fever with his panting breaths. Bracing, like autumn air. Clear. Cold. Death, and then comes rebirth, and I’ll be his spring.
    “So good,” Nikolai panted against Dougie’s throat. “You’re such a good boy for me, Douglas, always such a good boy, such a happy accident, so perfect . . .”
    God, it was fucking pillow talk. Not a lecture, not a teaching moment, just sweet loving words, like they were lovers, like Dougie was Nikolai’s precious thing, and if Dougie was a pet or a toy or a doll, he was a beloved one.
    Maybe I really am.
    And strange how in that moment he wanted so badly to whisper back, to say all the things he was feeling—and holy hell, he really was feeling them: acceptance and warmth and affection and pride in his service. All he wanted in that moment was for this to last forever, to always feel this good, to always make Nikolai this happy, to always be this useful and wanted and loved, and he could see it now, he could love Nikolai back , he could , and he gripped Nikolai’s neck tighter and begged, “May I kiss you, sir?” because if he didn’t, right now , he felt quite certain he’d wither away and die.
    Nikolai didn’t say yes, just let his dark hungry eyes bore into Dougie’s, reached up and grabbed him by the chin and yanked him forward, crushing their mouths together like they were a couple in an old noir romance, a rough seduction in black and white and in the end everyone knew their place. Dougie lost his balance, hips stilling as he fell forward against Nikolai’s chest, and Nikolai didn’t seem to care, but Dougie knew better, knew it was selfish of him to just sit there and let Nikolai tend to Dougie’s needs over his own. It was so hard to think, to focus on things like planting his feet and coordinating his muscles when Nikolai was kissing him this way.
    But he forced himself to pull his shit together, drew on everything Nikolai had taught him to make it good, to be perfect, to service his master above all else, and was rewarded by