The Flesh Cartel - Episode #7: Homecoming

of Nikolai’s bath and bed. And Nikolai didn’t fancy being alone tonight, not after what they’d shared. He wanted to go to sleep with his perfect new boy, and wake up beside him tomorrow morning for another round. Bliss. Nikolai had earned it. They both had.
    Douglas especially when Nikolai happened to look over one shoulder and saw that Douglas was not only following, but doing so on his hands and knees, crawling up the stairs with such adoring and complete submission it made Nikolai’s heart squeeze. Nikolai hadn’t commanded that, hadn’t asked for it, had barely even trained the boy to it; Douglas had given it to him like a gift.
    He was having some difficulty keeping up, though. No wonder—they’d had themselves quite the long day, full of excitement and challenge, and his boy’s exhaustion was stamped in every line of his body. Not to mention his unsated desire. Nikolai debated scolding him for his slowness—any other master would, or worse, and Douglas needed to learn that—then debated simply telling him to rise, but in the end he merely slowed his own pace, let the boy show his devotion as best as his weary body allowed.
    You’re too soft, Nikolai.
    He half grimaced, half smiled at the familiar voice of his mentor in his head. Yes, perhaps he was. But he always got the job done, and done exceptionally well. Perhaps a touch of softness was an asset in this line of work. Or perhaps he was just rationalizing away his faults. Ah well.
    Nikolai’s bedroom door was already open, the curtains drawn, the bed neatly made, one window cracked an inch or so to the crisp autumn air—precisely how he liked it. The whole room smelled of falling leaves, and vaguely of Roger, who hadn’t spent the night here in days but who came in to clean and straighten each morning. It was a comforting scent, one Nikolai had come to associate with home . Soon Douglas would feel the same.
    Nikolai strode to the bed—four posters, of course, and an open canopy for all the binding points a man could ever desire—and the boy crawled along behind him, breathing hard, flushed and a little sweaty. Beautiful . And clearly exhausted, but that wouldn’t matter to his future master, so Nikolai couldn’t let it matter to him.
    “Up you go, Douglas.” Nikolai patted the edge of the bed, and Douglas climbed up, grimacing. Clearly relieved to be off the hardwood floor. “Up on your knees, back straight, facing the headboard.”
    Dougie arranged himself as ordered, more or less, arms hanging limp and exhausted at his sides. Nikolai put a hand over his spine and used his other hand to force the boy’s shoulders back. “Be proud in your service, Douglas. Sit tall.”
    Again, Douglas obeyed, staying in place when Nikolai took his hands away. But he looked strained, too focused. Nikolai had pushed him hard today. And would push him harder still. A necessary lesson. One they’d have to work at again and again until the boy regained his stamina.
    “Stay, just like that,” he said, then turned to fish a bottle of lube from his dresser, watching as Douglas tried to observe him from the corner of his eye without moving his head. “Eyes forward,” Nikolai ordered, because cute as it was, it simply wasn’t appropriate behavior. Douglas’s gaze snapped back to the headboard like an overstretched rubber band. Fine tremors ran through his shoulders and thighs. Frightened? Or merely straining to keep his balance on the soft mattress? Or perhaps he was simply cold; the room was on the cool side, and sweat was drying on his skin. “That’s good, Douglas,” Nikolai said as he stepped in close again. “No need to be afraid. I only wish to make you feel good.” A well-earned kindness. The boy sighed out his relief.
    “Thank you, sir,” he murmured, eyes drifting momentarily closed, then opening again, pupils wide in the fading afternoon light.
    “Don’t thank me yet.” Nikolai reached down and slowly twisted the plug free of the boy’s ass, heat flaring up in his sated cock at the sight of his cum drizzling down Douglas’s inner thighs. Such a primal, animalistic thing, to feel so satisfied at the sight, some leftover urge to breed and mark. He swept his fingers through the smear of cum and lifted them to Douglas’s lips. “Open,” he said, and Douglas did, eyes still distant as he licked and sucked away the stickiness from Nikolai’s fingers. No complaint, but no joy yet, either. “I love seeing you full of my cum,” he