Yes, it had suited D'mar well these last months to keep his trips to the healers' kept to the wee hours of the morning, before the main of the Weyr roused. He and Strigonth had been flying well, and while he did not hide what lingering tension his injuries had left him with through his joints and muscles (for that would be too reckless, and he refused to endanger his wing and chances for advancement that way), he did not make it the business of most folks to be aware of them. Not to mention that laying still all through the cool of night did tend to leave him stiff, and though Tristram was something of...well, something to be dealt with and suffered through, inevitably he left his sessions feeling worlds better, and could walk off to breakfast or a morning meeting feeling energized and ready to tackle anything set before him. It got the task of it out of the way, and he could move on after, clear his head, and focus on what mattered.
Of course, that meant that he was already half-bare when the thundering roar of the gold went up, the crashing wave of lust washing over him unexpectedly, turning the hands upon his tender muscles far hotter in comparison to usual. In a blink he was furious at himself for forgetting how positively luminous that gold had looked over the last weeks, and then a beat later lying as still as he could, trying to cope with his heart racing out of control, pulse thundering through his ears.
Mr Cheri
