Disorder Ch. 06

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Ch. 06

Testing the Goods

"Oh, Donnie, Donnie, Donnie... Would you look at what I've done?"

And, truly, it was impressive what a few short years could accomplish -- all thanks to the plans that Donnie had, of course, filched neatly from Jaunt's system when he'd been busying himself with leeching what information he needed to get the authorities involved. Involving the law or, at least, setting someone up to fall into their path was risky enough but they'd had more than enough time to ensure that their tracks were good and covered (not that he made any sort of habit out of leaving a trail) while enjoying themselves a little behind Jaunt's desk too. Donnie swallowed minutely, Adam's apple bobbing, eyes fixed on the pile of drugs, ready to go through sorting and testing and then, undoubtedly, out to their distribution chain, the men on the ground who would do the dirty work that they, surely, were far, far above. It was easier, after all, to stay out of the line of fire.

Crystal meth. Simple and, yet, intrinsically beautiful. The underground room just outside the bounds of the city in a warehouse building that all records and people passing by only knew as for storage (and would find it storing perfectly asinine items too) and the perfect place to hide what they would have to send out onto the straights. Jaunt's plans had, truly, been extensive even if he didn't have the right head on his shoulders to actually head off out and distribute it, too hasty and angry and altogether rushed in an operation that should have remained more covert than it had. No, the fallen tech giant had gone into shame and disrepute, on the run where there were only rumours of where he was with the law hot on his tail. Either way, John and Donnie wouldn't be having any further trouble for him again -- not with just how effectively they had, step by step, dismantled his operation and lifted the plans he'd thought would take him into a new age of greed and wealth.

John smirked, one eyebrow cocked. It was funny how the tables turned. So funny, in fact, that he just about felt like another drink to celebrate, despite Jaunt's downfall being quite some time ago now. There never needed to be any big reason for a celebration though when his whole life was a celebration.

Clearing his throat quietly but deliberately (all that he needed to do), Donnie shook his head and rapped a pen against his clipboard. Maybe some would have found it funny that the pen in question was nothing more than a cheap biro but something fancier would have felt out of place amongst piles and piles of illegal drugs. Better to stick to the hard and fast, the tried and tested, when it came right down to it. And a dirty, cheap biro was just the ticket for a seedy sort of job that made his skin tingle and crawl in a peculiar mixture of disgust and anticipation.

"All that you've done?" Donnie snorted and shook his head, although he eyed John speculatively out of the corner of his eye, watching but not actively looking. "I think you're forgetting a key component of the operation."

And his brother smirked all the more widely, tapping a finger against the side of his nose. As alike as they were different, John's more confident and powerful stature, despite his slim build, came with black hair that he had dictated be trimmed back to his shoulders with the coming of the warmer months. It was hardly something that bothered him all that much (maintaining any style, really, was a waste of time and he'd rather have someone else to take care of all of that crap for him) but Donnie had had to make just a few little quips about how he didn't have as much hair to yank and pull during...well... They did not make a secret between themselves of the things they got up to behind closed doors and sometimes even out in public but not all that many would have paired Donnie's slighter and more delicate build, lithe like a weasel, with John, thinking them brothers from the get-go. It helped a little that Donnie had brown hair, taking after their mother rather than their father, like Charles and John both did, but they were different enough in their styles and attitudes to, at least, not pass for brothers when out in public.

The undercurrent of sexual tension was always there, however, and it truly was a miracle in itself that they had managed to keep things quiet and under wraps for so long. Being in the background of the operation, even when it had ratcheted up several steep notches all at once, had helped at least some, but neither of them were really ones to put themselves in the limelight, even when they wanted the praise and wealth to flow their way. Sure, John was more susceptible to dramatics and a show than Donnie was but even he was too lazy to really mess up all that badly: at least one mistake of Jaunt's that John with the arrogant tilt to his head was sure to avoid like the plague.

So, he could learn. Yet his eyes still roamed with a hungry lust behind them, greed coming in many forms. It was not, after all, merely for the chasing down of a high that could come or go intermittently as it pleased or even the money ramping up in many of his well-protected offshore bank accounts (arranged by Donnie, of course, who knew the ins and outs of that better than him) but the lust for another human being and, truth be told, few had taken his fancy in the time since Jaunt's downfall. It was a good thing that Donnie was there to satisfy them, a strange power play existing between them where John was, of course, always the one on top. That was where he thought he should be and, although Donnie may have pushed his luck when John was under the influence of even their own product from time to time, it had all come back around to him being the one on the floor, getting pounded in the ass or the mouth: either was good.

John, however, was not privy to Donnie's train of thought, imagining still that he was the centre of attention. Why, after all, should anyone not pay him the attention that he was due? It went without saying to such an extent that the thought simply did not even cross his mind and he stood in the very centre of the room surveying what he had created, the dull, grey walls and stacked boxes not truly paying homage to the empire of the resurrected.

"How's it feel to be second hand to the king then, Donnie?" John laughed, turning in a circle with his arms flung wide, the windowless room containing a solid portion of his so-called kingdom. "All this... On top where we should be. Of course, I'm the head, but I'll still keep you along, if only to hold my clipboard."

It was a taunt at best but Donnie had heard it all before and, well, there had to be a line between what was cruel and what was purely brotherly jest. Not even blinking, he gave John a carefully calculated look that conveyed just the right amount of polite confusion that was required, sealing his humour away behind the mask. If John really did believe that, maybe he'd have to take off for a while to see just how well (or not, most likely) he did on his own, but he didn't think that he'd like to see what he'd worked so many hours on crumble in the hands of an oaf.

Not that he would call John an oaf though. That may result in...certain things happening that may very well make it all worth the pain and the soreness that would come with the sinful pleasure.

When he did not get the response he wanted, John frowned and shook his head slowly, eyes half-lidded.

"Small Donnie... Has the cat got your tongue? Or perhaps the burglar ran away with it in the night?"

"Are you high or something?" Donnie shot back, lips pressed together. "Coming out with things like that, I'll start thinking you've gotten into the product. And we won't make money if it's not sold."

He stated it plainly, just as a fact. It needed to be nothing more than that, in all honesty, and got the point across to John who smoothed his hair back into place with the flat of his hand, his usual little smile on his face as if he knew that he could not be bested. Maybe the day would come where he was pushed off his own, self-made pedestal but it had not yet arrived, which was something that only time would tell the truth of.

Yet there was clearly something to be on with as Donnie glanced down at the clipboard, holding only sheets of lined paper. He doubted that John had placed them there himself and had probably instead taken them from an underling. Maybe he'd be looking for his clipboard later. It didn't matter.

"So, what exactly have you dragged me down here to do today?" He said with a small roll of his eyes, only enough that a discerning eye would notice the distaste ringing through his tone and stance alike. "With all going in and out... Well, I have to put it in layman's terms for you, John, just so you will actually understand, but I was up all night working on this."

Not that he minded, of course, being up all night. Anyone who really did know Donnie knew what a night owl he was, doing some of his best work in the wee hours of the morning, even though many could have disagreed with the term 'work' when it came down to criminal activity. It was still a means of acquiring money at the end of the day or even the end of the night, something that funnelled income from the bank accounts of other people, both big and small, to fund their illicit operation.

Well, it wasn't as if the cash was going to come out of their pockets, now, was it?

"Sure thing, Small Donnie, always the busy little bee... But I thought that maybe you could take a break from your hard-done life and sleeping through the day to do a little product testing."

It was Donnie's turn to raise his eyebrows, rocking back on his heels and exhaling sharply.

"The new batch? You know what happened on the last testing."

Of course, with all drugs there was the possibility for side-effects -- other than the intended high, that was. And the memory was all too fresh in Donnie's mind of how one man who they had had to make quietly disappear, wiping all record of him from digital or tangible existence, after he, essentially, 'went crazy'. Maybe he would have come around okay from it in the end but a drug that held an effect on the system for more than a few hours, well, that was hardly something that one wanted to trifle with if they wanted anything at all good to come of their venture. Meth addicts were into some serious shit and one only had to walk down the streets on the shadier side of town to tell just what effect their self-made empire was having on the world around them -- not that they would have wanted to end up themselves with such sallow and broken skin, teeth yellowing and eyes dead and vacant, lusting after only the next high.

And just how Mack had screamed and beat at his own body, clawing at skin that was already bloodied as John, too calmly, called for security... That was something that no man with any sense in him was going to forget in a hurry. Although, John was more reckless than most so, in Donnie's mind, it was entirely possible that the whole sorry incident had been forgotten entirely too.

Yet Donnie could not and that called him to hesitate, wary at the best of times and waiting to see just what an outcome would bring before he jumped in himself. No one could say, after all, that it had not served him well over the years.

"Yes, Donnie, but this is different."

Of course, John brushed it aside with a smile that could have been charming if Donnie did not already know intimately just what fangs lay behind it.

"Fine... I assume what you need is on hand?"

John grinned.

"Yes... But that's because you're going to be the one testing this time, not me. Don't want to actually go and get ourselves addicted now, do we?"

Donnie baulked, visibly pulling away from his brother and shaking his head. He hadn't missed either how the 'you' changed to a 'we' as John played his usual game, intent only on cajoling his brother into something that he'd really rather not undertake. Who cared, really, what the side-effects were when they were sending the money makers and tried and tested strains out onto the streets anyway? Where the care and compassion for other human beings should have been in both his heart and his mind there was only another section of his brain roped off to calculate and speculate, working on new plans and schemes in the background at all times. He cared not for what happened to those that became addicted and consumed, which was just why he kept his own use, if for entertainment purposes and that exhilarating buzz, out of the realm of what one could consider addiction.

The clawing ache in the back of his mind, however, that hankered for his next hit... Well, that was something that he chose to ignore. Just as long as he could.

"No... No, just no."

He did not elaborate, stating it flatly with the clipboard levelled at his brother as if the frame of it would further serve to exacerbate his point. John stared at him and, for the briefest of moments, Donnie did think that he was struck dumb by his refusal.

"You know I can make you, right?"

And there it was: the command sway of dominance and aggression rising up like a serpent rearing its head, looming from where it had only just been lurking in the darkness. And maybe the serpent had known just when to appear in the curve of his lips, the swagger and the bravado that came from a sense of always, irrefutably, believing that he was in the place that he had always been meant to be in, towering over everyone else. That was why points of power were set so high, skyscrapers reaching for the sky in ever-greater heights to show the wealth behind them, all that the mastermind behind them had to offer.

John too knew just how to work it, advancing step by slow step as if he was walking towards Donnie entirely by coincidence, his head even turned at an angle to look at the stock, the oversized bags stuffed full, although they would all need to be measured out by others in their operation, as he would never stoop so low as to do the grunt work. That was why Donnie had needed to leech so much money (even his card reader had not been able to do that task for the capital they required) from discreet and open accounts right from the start as there was no way that John was going to do any leg work in the slightest that he felt or thought was beneath his position.

But John... Oh, John. Donnie swallowed and yet tried to keep it discreet, shuffling onto his heels even as his torso tipped back and away from his brother, John standing over him. He would not yield, would not move, but the give and take was, most certainly, running in one direction and one alone as John took hold of his elbow, the electric touch of heat searing through his skin and shirt, which had been rolled back to the elbows, enough to make Donnie jerk and gasp, however minutely.

"Do you want me to make you, Donnie?" He breathed, tone already low and sensual for the man that he was. "There are so many ways that I could break you if I wanted to. Do you want me to demonstrate them for you? I think you'd be surprised."

But Donnie would not be surprised as John was not one to come up with new and interesting ideas when it came to something they really should not have been doing together, striving to keep his mind as calm and as fluid as possible. It could not be helped, however, that his aching cock simply wanted to rise to the occasion as it always did, everything pulsing and swelling like clockwork, as much as he willed it not to. With his heart in his mouth, he grunted thickly and turned the other cheek, biting his tongue even as he desperately tried to think about something else other than how damn close John was.

He knew just what effect he had on him, however, and merely smirked as he rolled away as if that had been his intention all the wild, his long-legged stride more of a glide than anything else as if he moved without expending any effort at all. Exhaling in a rush, Donnie cursed inwardly and tugged at the sides of his shirt, underarms damp and clammy in the worst of ways.

Damn it...

"Look, it's just not a good idea," he said, trying to appeal to what better nature John may or may not have had (it was up for debate). "Things have happened... We're in too high a position now to be fucking around with this shit. We've got too much in the air, too many cards on the table. Do you hear what I'm saying?"

Yet not even Donnie was entirely sure of what he was saying, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, their rush to spill from his lips quickening their demise, the crumbling of his resistance. Had there ever really been any resistance to begin with? It was debatable as he swayed, fumbling and grasping for words that slipped through his fingers like water, the fine grains of powder that could be boiled or smoked or packed in good and tight and deep...

No... He gulped and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, fading quicker and quicker with every passing moment. He couldn't think like that. They hadn't done it in a while and yet...and yet he wanted to, still, like a drug in his system that he couldn't get free. Or maybe it was the addiction of it too, driving his breath too short, panting gasps that he did his very best to conceal, half-turning away with the surliest look that he could manage to put on his admittedly delicate face. Even Donnie knew that he was not very convincing, however, and shuffled his feet, suddenly too hot under the collar for any modicum of comfort.

"And you seriously think I'm going to be able to take notes with this," he indicated the clipboard with a nod of his head, "when I'm all drugged up? It'll be worse than your fucking chicken scratch."

John's lips turned down and he shrugged, turning away as if to make a point of not facing his brother. What the essence of the point was, however, still remained to be seen and Donnie swallowed his words, biding his time, as he always did, until all became clear. It was just another difference that lay between the two brothers, one cautious and calm while the other, well...charged in like a bull at all times, blowing and snorting and kicking for the ultimate destruction of all around him.

He just liked watching someone's kingdom fall.

"If you're not going to take it yourself, it'll have to be me then," John said matter-of-factly as if there could be no other option in the scenario laid out before them, needing to test and have a test subject too. "Someone has to test it and, well, we both know who really has the balls here, don't we?"

It was a dig but not one that stung as John stood before him, that devastating grin on his face with a hint of delirium behind it -- or was it insanity? Someone had to be some level of insane, after all, to go for serious criminal activity and maybe it was that insanity that had sent his laziness packing, at least in part. For he was no longer the man he had once been, chest rising and falling sharply as he honed in on his prey, an arm sliding around his brother's waist as he drew him in close, chests pressed together with no longer even a sliver of distance between them. Donnie sucked in a breath, eyes wide and breath bated, caught up in the spell of the moment.

"I... You can't..."

Yet what kind of protest was that? Wispy and weak and frail, it came out without any substance behind it and, as he always did, John knew with a smirk in that instant alone that he had won.

"Come on, Donnie," he breathed, lips very close to his brother's ear, breath caressing even as his hand slipped lower, down to his hip and across in front of his body. "A little time, just you and me... You want this."