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"Kid! Hey!"

"Guh!" Cove jolted in the dark when he felt the broad palm paternally rubbing and patting his cheek, brushing up against his eye mask, which was still in place--he couldn't feel the car moving, had they stopped somewhere on the way? It felt like it had been only seconds since he'd let his eyes fall shut.

"Easy, easy...relax," his handler's deep voice said soothingly, now rubbing his shoulder. "We're back at your house."

It took Cove a second to reconnect the dots that had fallen out of place during his brief nap. He opened his mouth to ask if he was allowed to get out of the trunk, but he stopped himself, remembering the rule his handler had put in place for him. He closed his mouth again, the question dying in his throat.

His handler chuckled and patted his shoulder. "Good boy."

Cove smiled--he could never get tired of hearing those two words from his handler's mouth.

"Yeah, there he is." The warm, heavy hand lifted from his shoulder. "How about you get out for me."

Cove nodded and pushed himself semi-upright, keeping in a low crouch so he wouldn't hit the ceiling of the trunk. He crawled and shuffled until his hands rested on the car bumper, then slowly scooted himself around to back out of the trunk.

"There we go..." his handler mused encouragingly as Cove swung one foot out and shifted his weight backwards until his toes touched the ground.

On even footing now, the tiger shark pushed himself the rest of the way out of the trunk, although still blindfolded, he stumbled for a moment before he caught himself.

"Good job," his handler said. "Now turn...turn...stop."

Cove held still--he flinched when he heard the thump of the trunk door being closed, then again when he felt his handler take his hand and raise it so his open palm was level with his chest.

"You're a jumpy kid, huh?" his handler chuckled. "Don't you worry, we'll train that out of you soon enough. In the meantime..."

His handler pressed a key into Cove's palm--the tiger shark recognized it as his own house key.

"Welcome home."

His handler closed Cove's fingers over the key. Cove then heard his handler shuffle to the side before a strong hand rested on his back for a moment...then pushed him forward. "Go on in."

Cove nodded obediently and began to walk forward, this time more confidently--the pavement of his driveway was smooth and featureless, but he naturally remembered where to turn to merge onto the path for his front door. Still naked--and hoping that it was late enough for his duplex neighbor to still be asleep and not see him being dropped off by a strange man--the tiger shark strode along the curve of the walkway, then mounted the two steps up to his front porch. The concrete was cool beneath his feet as he stepped forward, then he felt the familiar, scratchy texture of his welcome mat. Cove sighed tiredly, grateful to almost be done with the night. He lifted his hand with the key in it and managed to slot it into the doorknob...then twisted...and pushed the unlocked door open.

The comforting warmth and scent of home washed over him; he could smell the remains of what he'd cooked for dinner earlier that evening (garlic-roasted chicken and potatoes) mixed with his bamboo and lemongrass essential oils. He dropped his key onto the table next to the door, hearing the reassuring clack of metal hitting the wood surface he knew was there, and then raised a hand, hooking his finger into the strap of his eye mask.

Cove jumped when a large hand came down on his shoulder, the long, thick fingers lightly digging into his collarbone.

"Ah-ah, kid. The mask stays on," his handler growled in his ear, his warm breath puffing along the side of his face.

Cove gasped sharply--he hadn't heard his handler walk up behind him. He had a feeling that the guy was large, which made it all the more surprising to realize how light on his feet he was. His handler pushed him forward a few steps...then Cove heard his door swing shut, with his handler in his home with him. His stomach twisted into a knot when he then heard the lock click into place, but the tiger shark kept himself together--maybe his handler was just going to talk? Or were they actually going to do something?

The answer came when Cove was turned around to face his handler.

"Alright, kid, strip me."

Cove's eyebrows rose behind his mask, and he froze for a moment, taken aback at how bluntly the command had been given.

"Well?"

The tiger shark shook himself into action. He reached forward, feeling for his handler...and his hands alighted on the man's stomach. This was his first time feeling anything other than his handler's hands, and Cove took a moment to rub across the area--judging from the vastness of his firm, barrel-like torso, Cove's suspicions had been right; the man was huge. And from the texture of the fabric covering his chest and stomach, it felt like he was wearing a thin jersey of some kind. His hands lightly danced downwards, seeking out the hem of the shirt. He tugged upward on it, shifting his hands around his handler's broad belly to lift the shirt evenly. His handler bent at the waist and raised his arms to help him, then wiggled out of the garment in a way that prevented Cove from feeling his head; all the tiger shark could touch was his rotund, solid stomach, his prominent, ample pectorals that were like squashed, contoured mountains peaked with hard nipples, and his incredibly toned arms that rippled with hard, burly cords of muscle.

Soon the shirt dropped to the floor, and Cove traced his fingers down along the fluffy furred, subtly shifting belly that expanded and contracted with his handler's breaths--he lingered for a moment on the man's navel, gently fingering his belly button, before his hands sank further down and cupped the overhang of his handler's musclegut, simply enjoying the man's burliness for a moment. From there, he went lower until he found the waistband that he was looking for, wedged under the firm stomach. The tiger shark could feel well-worn leather under his fingers, and the pants that rode low on his handler's hips felt taut, stretched tightly--the clasp practically exploded open when Cove released it, and he heard the satisfying rrrrp of the zipper as he pulled down on the metal tab. As if he were unwrapping an enormous candy bar, Cove peeled the groin of the pants away and was greeted with a strong, salty, musky smell in the air; he sighed contentedly at the scent as he carefully dug his hands into the pants along the sides of his handler's thighs, feeling out the fact that the man had clearly gone commando and avoiding the crotch for the time being, preferring to save it for later and simply tease his way around it for now.

His fingers raked through the thick fur on his handler's legs as he tugged the leather pants downward. He could feel the outlines of keys, a wallet, and a phone in the pockets, but he continued inching the pants along the tree trunk-like limbs and kneeling to the floor as he worked. Cove desperately wanted to reach up and cup what he imagined were his handler's pendulous, low-hanging balls that were just above his head, to shove his nose into the man's sheath and swirl his tongue around the cock that was waiting for him, but he kept his focus on simply doing as his handler instructed, stripping him. He pushed the pants down to his handler's ankles, and Cove nearly buckled under the weight of the large man when he rested a hand on the tiger shark's back to support himself, lifting one foot out of a pants leg, then the other.

"There we go, nothing to it," his handler said gruffly in approval. Cove heard him sigh, then felt his hand on his shoulder again, turning him around. "Let's get a little cleaned up, huh?"

Cove paused, then understood what his handler was implying. He nodded before he led the way through the living room and past the kitchen, down the hall, and into his bathroom.

"Decent place you got here, kid," his handler observed as he flicked the lightswitch. Cove held still while his handler then dragged open the shower curtain, twisted the handle in the combination shower-tub, and let the water start spraying from the shower head. The tiger shark waited for a moment--he could imagine his handler holding a hand under the water to test the temperature, or maybe he was looking for a spare towel, or looking over Cove's toiletries (including the extra toothbrush that had clear bite marks on the handle from when Cove had tried practicing his oral skills), or even examining the bathroom decor (the ombre sapphire to sky blue shower curtain and shell-shaped hand soap was enough to hint at a somewhat nautical theme, and Cove couldn't resist hanging that poster of a dog taking a bath in an open barrel above his toilet).

After a minute of waiting, his handler said, "Alright, hop in."

Cove did as he was told, stepping into the bathtub and letting the hot water hit his skin. He still wore his mask, which was immediately drenched, but it stayed in place over his eyes, and it soon felt like he was wearing a warm compress instead of just a blindfold. He groaned in pleasure from the sensation, then quickly shuffled toward the back of the shower when he felt his handler brush up against him as the larger man joined him in the tub and drew the curtain closed. The tiger shark heard his handler hum a low tune to himself for a moment...then he smiled in gratitude when he felt soapy hands start rubbing his shoulders, chest, and stomach.

"I'm glad you picked me," his handler took up as he kept lathering up Cove. "Nothing against the other handler who wanted you, but I think you'll do better with me as your handler." The large, soapy, wet hands rubbed the sides of Cove's neck, massaging him and making his head loll from side to side. "I think it's time for some actual conversation, kid," his handler continued. "You can talk."

Cove's eyebrows rose in surprise and he tilted his head questioningly.

His handler chuckled. "Yeah, for real. I'll start you off. Why'd you choose me?"

The tiger shark frowned slightly in thought while his handler manually raised his arm and began working up a layer of suds along his forearm, bicep and tricep, and into his armpit. "There--" Cove coughed, clearing his throat. It had been so long since he'd spoken, he was a little hoarse. "There was something kind of...warm about you. Like this big, powerful, comforting quality that I could feel." The tiger shark smirked. "Plus I like real big hands, and you have some great ones...Sir."

His handler released his arm and moved onto the other one, soaping it up as he snickered. "Yeah, I get that a lot." He lapsed into silence as he worked a handful of suds into Cove's other armpit, then took up, "You can keep talking, kid, I like your voice. It's okay to ask questions, say anything...what's on your mind?"

Cove felt heat rise in his cheeks at the compliment, but he nodded and cast about for a topic. In his exhausted mental state, the tiger shark couldn't stop himself from asking the first thing that bubbled up to the top of the pile of questions. "Did you come up with your codename, Midnight Tango?"

His handler chuckled as he worked his way down Cove's torso and defined 6-pack, scrubbing over the mounds of muscle as he did so. Cove subtly twisted from side to side to give the man better access to his obliques. "Not what I expected you to ask, but a good place to start. Nah, it was randomly assigned by the club. We have a codename generator we use. Midnight Tango, Canopy Romeo, Titan July, The Talisman--in case Domino's security is ever compromised, no real names are used for our system. We've got codenames for everyone, even the initiates. For now, yours is just Number 6, but we've already got an official one assigned to your file."

Cove's brow furrowed. "I have a codename already? Wait, I have a file?"

"Mm-hm. Domino has files on every member, even me," his handler replied evenly, now starting to scrub in circles on the insides of his thighs, avoiding his crotch.

"What's my codename, Sir?" the curious tiger shark asked.

His handler playfully tutted at him. "Ah-ah, that has to wait until the welcoming ceremony."

Cove felt his heart sink, remembering that he still had a week of grueling initiation challenges to complete. "If I make it that far," he said, his voice twinged with hopelessness.

"Hey, you'll make it. Trust me," his handler said reassuringly--the determination in his voice alone was enough to make Cove second guess his despair. "I'm going to work you hard to your breaking point, but you'll make it through."

The tiger shark blinked under his wet mask--he believed his handler. "Thank you, Sir," he mused as the man continued down Cove's legs. After another moment's pause, the tiger shark switched to another topic. "Can I ask...when I was choosing between you and the other handler, the guy said that you were the top two handlers who wanted me."

"That's not a question, kid," his handler stated as he tapped on Cove's foot.

Cove nodded as he planted one hand on the shower wall to support himself and obligingly lifted his foot for his handler to scrub his sole and get the suds between his toes. The treatment tickled a little, but Cove held himself together. "Yes, Sir. So...why did you want me?"

His handler chuckled. "I've got my reasons," he began cryptically. "But one I'll share with you is that I've been looking for a project. A cute young thing like you looking to push your boundaries...with that smile, too, you're pretty much irresistible. Plus you look sturdy enough, I think you can take some good punishment."

Cove gulped, feeling both pleased with the compliment and a little concerned about what kind of "good punishment" his handler had in mind.

"So, again, I'm glad you picked me."

Cove nodded while his handler held his foot under the shower spray, rinsing the soap off before letting it settle back on the floor of the tub. Cove shifted his weight to lift his other foot, and his handler began lathering it up and scrubbing. "How do you feel?"

"About tonight, you mean?"

"Mm-hmm."

Cove sighed, thinking. "Tired, mostly," he weakly snorted. "But also...excited...and nervous. Really nervous."

"That's fair," his handler noted while he rinsed the soap off of Cove's foot. He grunted and the tub creaked--Cove figured he was standing upright again, and his assumption was confirmed when he felt his handler guide him to turn around, so his back now faced the man in his shower. As his handler began lathering up his back and dorsal fin, he continued, "I've seen plenty of initiates in your position. They were all eager, wanting to know more, and terrified of not knowing what was going to happen or if they would make it through. I'm going to ask you this, though: Do you feel safe right now?"

Cove tilted his head again, pondering the meaning of the question.

"You've been through a long night, and now you've got me washing you in your own home--do you feel safe?" his handler elaborated.

Cove took a breath, then let it out slowly. "I think...safer than I felt earlier, yes, Sir. I was a little scared in the car, thinking you could've...well..."

His handler's scrubbing stopped, and the hand on his shoulder moved down to his chest, splaying the fingers wide over his sternum--not in a controlling way, but more caring, more protective. "I understand. As your handler, it's my job to make sure you don't come to any harm during initiation. Domino isn't like other BDSM clubs where the second you say the safeword, we stop. But we do have a code we follow, and part of that is keeping initiates safe. This is the kind of shit we all take seriously. There are risks, and it's going to be more dangerous once you're an official member, but that's what you signed on for, right?"

Cove nodded. "Yes, Sir."

The hand pressed affirmingly on his chest. "You're a good boy, and you're in good hands."

"Thank you, Sir."

His handler resumed scrubbing, moving down to his buttocks and tail. As he worked, another question came to Cove's mind. "How long have you been doing this, Sir?"

"Been a handler? Too many years to count," his handler replied as he used a broad hand to easily lift Cove's thick tail and rub more suds along its length and over the fin protruding from it.

"So I guess you've lost count of how many other initiates you've handled?" Cove surmised.

"Pretty far into the triple digits--maybe somewhere in the 400s," his handler answered as he rinsed off his tail.

Cove paused while his handler began soaping up his buttocks more intentionally now, kneading them like mounds of biscuit dough and turning the taut muscles into loose bundles as the tiger shark relaxed further under his handler's care. "The guy at the club said you were the toughest person there..."

His handler laughed while lightly digging his fingers into Cove's ass crack, rubbing soap up and down along the cleft between his cheeks--Cove felt his dick stir behind the chastity barrier blocking his slit. It pressed against the warm metal, but the device lodged inside of him wasn't going anywhere. "Oh, I might have a bit of a reputation, but you don't need to worry. At least not for now."

Cove frowned again while his handler spread his cheeks and lifted his tail out of the way to rinse the soap off of his ass. The sensation of having his butt manhandled like this was enough to make his cock press harder against the chastity device and lightly throb. "What...what does that mean, Sir?"

"It means not for now," his handler replied, his tone now a little more commanding, and Cove took that as a signal not to press further. "The tough work will come soon enough. But not tonight."

Hands alit on Cove's shoulders again, and he was spun back around to face his handler once more. This time, the large paws, covered in soaked fur, moved down directly to his crotch, lathering it up and gently playing with the lips of his slit--Cove felt his handler wiggle them back and forth before he tapped on and inspected the small metal exit tube of his chastity barrier. Cove could feel the vibration of his tapping throughout his groin, and his handler rubbed up and down along the length of his slit before he resumed scrubbing his groin. The circular motions on top of Cove's crotch were enough to arouse him even further, but like a snake hitting against a wall, his cock wasn't allowed to expand any further against the chastity device; Cove chewed his lip, both relishing and hating the fact that he was locked away. It was such a mental conflict--he loved that his dick, control of his own body, was now in the hands of someone else, but he was sorely missing the freedom to simply whip out his meat and shoot a load right now. He wanted...he thought that maybe...was something going to happen? Part of him felt like maybe this was the time to address it.

"Sir?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Are...are you going to fuck me?"

His handler laughed and gently patted his side. "Not tonight, kid. You're tired, I'm tired... plus I want to save that for later. We've got some work to do first, and a good fuck--a really good fuck--is something we can both look forward to."

A surge of bittersweet relief swept over Cove--on one hand, he was grateful that he wouldn't be roughly bent over and taken for a ride on his first night of initiation (he wasn't even sure how ready he would have been for that). But on the other hand, part of him genuinely wished his handler would have carried him to his bed, tenderly fingered and rimmed him, and then popped his cherry properly; his hole was so hungry for it.

Before Cove could say anything more, his handler skirted around him in the shower and helped him into position just under the shower head. Cove, distracted by the steaming water spraying over him, bowed his head while he felt his handler's giant paws stroke down along his body, washing off the last wayward suds. "You're going to be doing so much for me this week, so just let me take care of you for a bit," his handler rumbled.

"I can get into that," Cove muttered, basking in the heat of the shower.

After another minute of rinsing, Cove felt his handler reach past him and shut the water off. His handler straightened up again, and suddenly Cove heard a deep growl and a loud flapping--the tub creaked again, and water droplets flew everywhere, splashing over Cove, who put up his hands to protect himself from his handler's shaking. When the large man next to him had finished shaking himself off, Cove heard the shower curtain rasp open again, then the sound of his handler exiting the tub. Cove was about to step out, too, but before he could, a towel dropped on his head and he felt his handler start rubbing him down with it. The tiger shark gratefully accepted his handler drying him, raising his arms and spreading his legs for his handler to get into and rub away the water.

When he was completely dry, Cove exited the tub. His blindfold was still mildly damp, but he figured it would air dry as he continued to wear it. He heard the ruffling of his handler drying himself off with the towel, too, and when he was done, the large man finally said, "Alright, kid, it's time for bed. Lead the way."

That was music to Cove's ears--his heart skipped a beat as he imagined himself lying next to his handler, and he dutifully padded out of the bathroom with his handler in tow. They continued down the hall until they reached Cove's room, where the blind shark knew an enormous king-sized bed was waiting for them. He crawled on top of the mattress and snuggled under the sheets, making sure to leave plenty of room for his handler, who slid in next to him.

"Here, scoot in," his handler instructed as he shifted on the mattress--Cove could feel his handler was laying on his side, perfectly positioned to be the big spoon, and Cove wriggled his way over into the little spoon spot, pressing his back against his handler's large keg of a belly, slipping his feet between his handler's legs, and resting his head on his handler's extended arm while the large man wrapped his free arm over Cove's chest and squeezed him in even closer. The tiger shark's tail was squeezed to the side, allowing Cove to feel a warm package with his rump: plump balls, a sheath even girthier than a wine bottle, and the tip of his handler's cock poking out of the furred confines all rested sugly under Cove's ass, pressing against the taut mounds of his cheeks. Cove wiggled his hips into his handler's pelvis playfully as he nuzzled into the embrace.

"You enjoying something down there?" his handler grunted, although Cove could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yes, Sir!" Cove sighed contentedly, breathing in the lingering aroma of sandalwood and tobacco that still clung to his handler even after their shower together.

"Comfy?" his handler asked.

"Mm-hm, yes, Sir," Cove replied, nodding.

"Good boy." His handler curled a little further in on him, subtly grinding his groin up even more into Cove's butt while resting the bottom of his chin on top of the tiger shark's head; the bed sheets and pillows crinkled as the two bedmates squirmed, then stilled.

They lay together for a minute, settling into natural breathing rhythms, before Cove, still submerged in darkness, softly asked, "Sir?"

"Hmmm?" his handler drowsily hummed.

"Can I ask...what made you get into being a handler? Why...why did you join Domino?"

His handler breathed in, his stomach expanding against Cove's back, before he exhaled, his warm breath gusting past the tiger shark's ear. "I'm a natural dom--been in my blood and bones since I was even younger than you. I always enjoyed being in charge, it felt right...and I've always had tastes that were a bit more extreme. Some folks like to keep things at about a 7 or 8--I'd want to crank them up to an 11." As he spoke, his hand began to drift down from Cove's chest to his stomach, where he traced a large finger over Cove's abdomen. "When I was getting started, I had trouble finding the right community, the right place where what I enjoyed fit in with what others wanted." His voice was low and rich, full of honey in Cove's ear, while his fingertip drifted into Cove's belly button, slowly swirling around the rim and pressing down into his navel. "Then I stumbled across Domino, and being a handler allows me to introduce my interests to others, to broaden their horizons." Cove gently spread his legs while his handler's paw sank lower, down to his crotch, where he slowly began to stroke just above Cove's slit, right on top of the perimeter of the chastity device inside the tiger shark's genital pouch. "There's really nothing I love more than seeing the moment a boy realizes he's enjoying the rough treatment." The rough fingerpads continued steadily stroking, softly teasing Cove's slit, and the handler's voice became even lower as he continued, "The look on his face when pain turns into pleasure...when all self-respect is gone while his humiliation turns into pride...when the fear in his eyes turns into desire and I hear the need in his voice when he starts begging for more..."

Cove shivered, and his hole twitched--the teasing on his groin, the way his handler described exactly the scenario that he had dreamed of...he wanted it so badly. He wanted his handler...and he wanted more...more than just a handler...

"You think you can"--Cove paused, yawning tiredly--"do that for me, Sir?"

Cove felt his handler's chest rumble against his back as he snickered, and the large man patted right on top of his slit, bumping against the outward bulge of his chastity barrier. "I know I can, kid," he muttered. "You just have to let me."

Cove smiled contentedly to himself. Now that he was in bed and snugged up with his handler--his big, comfy, cozy, fluffy, confident handler, he could feel sleep trying to drag him away...but there was just one more thing he had to do before he conked out.

"Now that I think about it, you probably know everything about me," the tiger shark started. "I feel like on the application I had to give everything except my Personal Identification Number...what about you, Sir? Can you tell me about yourself?"

His handler chuckled again and re-wrapped his arm around Cove's chest. "I'll share six things with you, and then you've gotta get some sleep."

"Yes, Sir!" Cove snuggled up even closer into his handler's embrace, as if he was trying to push himself back into the big man's chest cavity; he just wanted to be wrapped up inside his handler so much. He pedaled his legs briefly to get comfy, and then held onto the arm hanging over his chest.

"So, six things about me...I'm a mechanic."

"Okay, that's...one," Cove said through another yawn. He closed his eyes, but kept listening.

"My favorite food...chicken tacos," his handler continued.

"Two."

"My favorite physical activity is pretty close to this--I love cuddling during aftercare, gives me a good opportunity to help bring a boy back down."

"...three," Cove said slowly.

"My favorite movie has to be General Davenport's March."

"That a...war movie?" Cove asked, his brain just barely firing.

"Not really. More of a comedy. As for number five...I grew up in Treeport."

"Treeport...over by Lake Declan, right?"

"That's right," his handler replied, hugging him into a tighter cuddle. "Used to spend a lot of time on the lake when I was a kid. Lot of skinny dipping, too, hehe."

"Okay...what's number six?" Cove was slipping away, he was so comfortable in his handler's embrace.

His handler sighed. "That there are two important rules about me. First, when I tell you to do something, you do it. Just trust me that I'm going to be acting in your best interests, and you don't want to question me."

"Mm...yes, Sir...what's the second rule?"

"You'll have to wait for that one, kid."

Cove couldn't even protest, he was so tired--the night had dragged on for so long...the motion of his handler's stomach against his back was so soothing...his handler's hug was so warm and cozy...every breath from his handler's nose and mouth was like a relaxing white noise machine...and the tiger shark simply drafted away.

---

Sunlight streamed in through the window--when Cove opened his eyes, he realized he'd forgotten to close the blinds in his bedroom.

Then he realized he wasn't wearing his eye mask anymore. He could see the graphic design prints and painting posters hanging on his white walls, he could see the pale blue of his sheets and the plants sitting by his window...but his heart sank when he saw that he was alone in his bed. He could still smell the faint odor of his handler, though--the smell of sandalwood and tobacco remained on his pillow, and the discomfort of his dick (which usually would be at full mast with a serious case of morning wood) pressing against unyielding metal told Cove that his chastity barrier was still locked inside his slit.

Last night hadn't been a dream, even though it now seemed like it had passed in such a haze for him.

Grunting as he rolled over to his bedside table, Cove checked his phone for the time--he had no clue when he'd finally gone to bed, but it was now half past 10 in the morning...and his eyes widened when he saw that he'd received a couple text messages from an unknown number. Puzzled, Cove unlocked his phone and went to his messages, then opened the latest texts.

"Oh!" he said to himself when he first saw the two pictures that the unknown contact had sent.

Both pictures looked like they'd been selfies, but they were cropped. The first photo showed a clear view of Cove, still wearing his blindfold, sprawled out on his back. A white-furred hand with enormous fingers was resting on his jaw, with the fingers easily pulling back his lower lip to expose his sharp teeth, and the tips of the digits were resting carelessly on the triangular blades. Cove winced--had he accidentally bitten his handler in his sleep? Or was his handler just messing around and having fun with him?

The second photo also focused on Cove, but this time he was on his side and cuddled up with a thick, white-furred arm, as if it were a body pillow he was hugging. Thanks to the way the picture was cropped, there were no other distinguishing features for his handler; all Cove could see was himself and the arm amid a swirl of his bedsheets.

The text message below the photo read, "Cute chompers. Glad you got cozy last night. Hope you slept well, kid. Come to 185 S. Ashton Blvd. at 2. Use the blue service door on the 34th St. alley entrance. Don't keep me waiting."

Cove saw that he had three and a half hours, plenty of time to pull himself together from last night. He quickly saved the contact's number as "Domino Handler" before he replied with "Yes Sir, I slept great thanks to you. Thanks for last night. See you then!"

Cove stared at the text to watch it get delivered. He was about to replace his phone on the nightstand, but it vibrated in his hand with a new, almost immediate, incoming message that consisted of just two words: "Good boy."

The tiger shark smiled gleefully, then rolled himself out of bed.