Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

It wasn’t warm out, so I wanted to get this done as fast as I could. I poured the fresh water over his hair, I rubbed him behind the ears, I stroked his neck, and I let the water glide down his shoulders. Same with the second bottle.

“Stand straight again,” I instructed patiently.

He trembled and hummed and cried as I carefully washed his skin. His back was going to hurt for a while. The countless little scratches from everything he’d been through tonight would heal over the next day or two. Maybe a handful would take a little longer.

“Master?”

“Yeah?” I poured half a bottle of water over his cock and balls.

“Guh—so cold.” He was shaking more now. “My sneakers are ruined.”

“I noticed,” I chuckled. “Bend over again.”

He bent over, and I repeated the procedure with his sexy little ass. Between the cheeks, around his opening, maybe I checked a bit inside him too, and then down his thighs.

“Maybe you can come with me to buy new ones next week?” The way he asked, with tears in his voice, with innocence and sweetness lacing his tone, I was thoroughly screwed. I wasn’t gonna be able to tell him no. Or even suggest he go shopping with Ivy or someone else.

“It’s possible we can work something out.” I emptied the last bottle along his legs and feet before I tossed one of the towels on the ground for him to stand on.

After grabbing another towel, a bottle of aloe, and the pair of sweats I’d packed for him, I went down on one knee to dry him off—carefully. He’d sustained plenty of pretty marks along his thighs too.

I applied a generous amount of Tate-approved aftercare lotion.

He thought that was a good opportunity to tell me that he really wanted me to come with him to the mall next week.

“So we can hold hands a lot and maybe have a snack? Also, you need new socks and boxer briefs, so I should pick those up too. Also, it’s your aunt’s birthday soon. We need to buy her a gift. Also, I have a coupon for a scented candle I want to try. It’s sandalwood and cotton. Doesn’t that sound nice? Also, they have the good cheese store at the mall—remember? With the Spanish thing you liked?”

That was a lot of alsos.

I helped him step into the sweats before I stood up and cupped his face in my hands. “I love you so damn much, baby. We’ll go to the mall. We’ll do all that.” I kissed him softly and brushed away his tears. “You’re a good boy to your Master.”

He smiled goofily, tearfully, and so beautifully. “I love you more than anything in the whole universe.”

We’d see if he still loved me after I’d rubbed lotion into his back.

Maybe he wouldn’t register extra pain now. I wasn’t certain. He sure as hell was riding some kind of euphoria.

“Master?”

“Yes, love.” I padded his upper body dry, then went for the lotion again.

“Will you marry me?”

I smiled and kissed his cheek. “Absolutely.”

“Yessss—ouch!”

Yeah, my bad. This was going to sting.

I could barely remember the last time I’d been so tired.

Tate and I got home around four in the goddamn morning, and my phone was still blowing up with texts from group chats and whatnot. Brats in the middle of aftercare and soaring on pain relief were docile creatures, and suddenly it took no effort at all for them to thank the Sadists for a “perfect and horrible evening.” My buddies, on the other hand, were moving on to cleanup.

Greer and his squad were going back tomorrow. Me and a few others would get the last after work on Monday. And on Tuesday, we were gonna send in our scores for the brats.

“Bed,” Tate groaned, impersonating a zombie. “Must. Sleep.”

I bet he was glad now that we’d showered at the house. I just hadn’t felt great about sitting my muddy ass in my truck.

“Lemme change the sheets first,” I said drowsily. “As much as I don’t mind you turning the bedroom into our new porn studio where Franklin’s welcome, I don’t wanna sleep in his former wet spot.”

“Yeah—gross. But I’ll do it, Master. You’ve spoiled me too much tonight already.”

“Nonsense.” Utter fucking nonsense. It was called aftercare, nothing else, and we’d have more of it tomorrow.

He insisted, though. So while he changed the sheets and everything else on the bed, I took a leak, inhaled some water, and raided the fridge for leftovers that I ate with the fridge door open.

Tate’s lemon and zucchini pasta with chicken was fucking fantastic as always.

“Do you want something to eat, baby?” I called.

“Just your cock!”

I grinned around a mouthful of food. I loved my life.

“Master?”

“Master.”

“Maaaster.”

There was no way we’d slept long enough. I didn’t have to open my eyes more than a fraction to see that the room was still dark, and if the sun wasn’t up, neither was I. Not today.