The Flesh Cartel #6: Brotherhood

to it. Or he can hold onto the idea of you, the mirage of you, and resist and struggle and fight until it kills him by torturous inches. There is no third choice. I know you wish there were, but wishing is a fool’s game, and you’re no fool.”
Mathias had no reply to that. Just the sounds of his mouth and tongue, his breath rasping through his nose. Stalling. Nikolai didn’t mind, though, because the sensation of being tongue-fucked by his tightly reined feral slave was positively beyond compare.
At last, Mathias pulled back, every line of his body crying his defeat. His face was stamped with tragedy, loss—a man in mourning. He spoke softly. “What do I have to do, then?”
What do I have to do to save my brother in the only way I have left?
Nikolai smiled, victory pulsating through every artery and vein. In these tiny moments, however brief, he was a god.
He pushed Mathias’s face back between his thighs—his fighter took the hint perfectly well and began to lick and suck him again—and said, “I’ve arranged a meeting for you both with a ‘client.’ He’s actually a colleague of mine with a very specific fetish I sometimes indulge. You’ll both be prepared to meet him. In private, without me, in a room with no windows or cameras or guards. When you do, he’ll take an interest in your brother, as any man would. He won’t be gentle. In fact, he’ll be cruel even by my standards. Barbaric. Sadistic. Between you and me, he’s an absolute monster, but you will let him have his way with your broth—”
“What?” This time Mathias did more than just rear back; he sat up, practically loomed right over Nikolai. “You think I’m just gonna si—”
Nikolai smacked the rest of that sentence right from Mathias’s mouth, then shoved the man’s head back to his ass. Mathias knew better than to interrupt again, though Nikolai had to shake him by his too-short hair before he remembered to start servicing his master again.
“You will sit there, yes, while your brother endures my colleague’s brutality. And the whole time, your brother’s eyes will be on you, watching you, unable to wrap his mind around why you won’t make his pain stop. He’ll beg you to save him, and it will be within your power to save him, but you won’t.”
“What the fuck makes you think I’d go along with that?” Mathias growled against Nikolai’s balls.
“Because, Mathias, however painful his time in that room is, it will be over quickly. Just long enough for him to lose his idolatry of his hero brother. And I promise you, he’ll crack quickly. Just a few minutes of pain. But if you disobey me? If you interfere with my plan in any way? I’ll need resort to so much more than just a few minutes of pain, more than these necessary deceptions.” He paused, letting that word soak in. Pain. And oh, yes, Mathias had caught on, but that didn’t mean Nikolai couldn’t still elaborate and make the threat clear. “I’ll have no choice but to use the serum, Mathias. For as long as it takes. Twelve straight hours didn’t break you. How long will your brother last, do you think?”
Mathias’s tongue stilled; Nikolai felt the hardness of bared teeth pressed against his perineum, the too-fast flutter of eyelashes against one thigh. But the man remained stubbornly silent.
“So tell me which is better, Mathias: a few minutes of pain, easily ended, or several days, drawn out even longer by his continued need to impress you? And don’t think I won’t tell him tales of how well you withstood the serum’s assault. I may exaggerate somewhat. You won’t be there to contradict me, after all.”
Mathias raised his head again, bright blue eyes narrowing, cunning replacing fear. “You wouldn’t. You love him—well, you feel your sick fucking version of love for him. You wouldn’t hurt him that way. I’m trash. He’s your prize fucking pet.”
“I’ll do what I must to achieve the results I require. And the end result will be the same no matter what. Dead, or my obedient slave. What I must resort to in order to reach that point . . . that’s up to you. Now, as much as I’m enjoying this conversation, we’ve reached the point where it either ends in ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir,’ and I’d like to come now. Sit on my cock while you think over your answer.”
Mathias stood, wiping the spit from his lips and chin. Yanked down his tight shorts. Spat into his hand to lubricate himself at least somewhat. There was no fear in