The Shepherd (The Game 6)

“No buts! You were doin’ so well.”

He chuckled and eyed me tiredly. “I’m not feeling it—that’s it. I miss kink, I miss the parties, I miss going out for a beer or two, but the idea of actually heading out and meeting people makes me wanna slip into a coma.”

That wasn’t weird. He was constantly exhausted.

But maybe I had an idea. “Carol picks up the kids on Sunday night, right?”

He nodded.

“And you work till eight on Monday,” I continued, and he nodded again and bit into his burger. “I have my next session with Corey on Monday at seven, but I bet I can reschedule to nine. I’ll pick you up after work, and we’ll head out to Mclean. Just spot us—take a tour of the place, whatever. I’ll square things with Corey’s Top.”

I couldn’t foresee Marcus having any issues with Sloan just watching, and it would do my buddy good to be around a Little again. If anyone could draw out that desire in Sloan, it was Corey.

He’d done a fantastic job today. His threshold for pain was a lot higher than I’d anticipated, and we’d basically agreed that I would paddle his cute ass until he safeworded, just so I’d get a clearer picture of his limits. Now he was all cried out and had a scarlet ass.

I could see Sloan was considering it, and it was further than I’d gotten in the past.

Hell, I hoped he could make it for my sake too. I preferred more affectionate aftercare, and Corey…evidently didn’t. He’d let me hold him for approximately a minute before he’d insisted on checking out his bruising flesh. Then he’d wanted to get dressed and go home. But if Sloan were there, perhaps he could function as a translator, a barrier, someone to reassure me a little afterward.

“I’ll think about it,” Sloan said hesitantly. “I gotta be at work at six the next day.”

I had a solution for that too. “We’ll spend the night in my cabin, and then I can take you straight to work from there on Tuesday.”

“Huh. I forgot you have your own place out there.” He poured ketchup on his fries, followed by more salt. As if the seasoning wasn’t enough. “Aren’t you gonna be in Mclean all weekend?”

Yeah, Katie was gonna make bank watching the pups. Not that she’d be there the whole time, but I didn’t want my dogs to be alone for more than five hours—six hours, max.

“Pretty much. The brats wanna throw a Halloween party since we canceled the Halloween event at the end of the month.” I threw some fries into my mouth and grinned at the memory.

We hosted a themed event every month as part of our Game competition that’d started this past July. One event, one Game, once a month, where Tops and bottoms could compete against each other—or as teams, depending on the activity we planned. And since the majority of us founding members were Sadists in one form or another, it went without saying that many of our Games caused a bit of suffering for our beloved brats.

Last month, the brat community had come together to pull a prank on us. They’d performed a dance routine and some songs, taking us all by surprise, and they’d made their point. That they could still catch us off guard, that they could still shock us and “light our shit up” as they’d said. They’d thrown out T-shirts where they called Tops every colorful word in the book. Dumbinant, kitten, maid, slave, et cetera.

Naturally, we Sadists were gonna get our revenge by blowing the whole thing way out of proportion. We’d canceled our plans for a Halloween-themed event, and now we were doing a brat boot camp instead.

I’d enjoy those Games a lot more if I had a partner. Instead, I just signed up as an organizer and monitor.

Womp-womp.

Sloan had made up his mind by the time we walked out of the restaurant.

He agreed. He’d be there on Monday.

“Fuck yeah. And they say being a nag doesn’t work.” I grinned and unlocked my truck. Then I noticed Sloan wasn’t making a move to get in, and it made me a little confused. “Aren’t I taking you home?”

He glanced up the sidewalk and patted his stomach. “I think I’m gonna walk off that milkshake.”

Oh. I knew what that meant. He had about a half hour’s walk from here to his place, and somewhere in the middle was the cemetery where his mother was buried. We’d lost her a couple years ago to breast cancer.

“I can drive you to the cemetery if you want,” I offered.

He smiled and shook his head. “You know me a little too well sometimes.”

Eh, it was our thing to know each other too well. And now I knew he was planning on going to a cemetery after dark. I’d rather swim with sharks.