#ld cc

All Drake wanted was a good fuck. Try as he might not to watch over the horizon for the red dragon he’d come to recognize instantly, he couldn't help it. It had been too long for many things. Too long since they’d received a shipment of weapons to fight the venin.  Too long since he’d received a letter from Dain.  Too long since their skin had touched and he— Fuck. If Drake let his thoughts go there, he wouldn’t be able to fend off his growing erection in any other way but a good wank. And though it wasn’t unheard of for guards to do, it truly wasn’t good manners. Besides, he wanted to be fresh for the things he planned to do with Dain that night.  They’d been promised a shipment of weapons, signed by none other than Duke Riorson. Drake’s eyes had rolled so hard when he read the title of his cousin’s ex-betrothed that they’d gotten stuck for a moment. But he was happy to see Tyrrendor back outside of the king’s control, even if that put it in Xaden’s questionable hands. Though, Drake only questioned the man’s taste in women. His dedication to the land was irrefutable.  Shaking all thoughts of Riorson from his head, Drake looked back out over the battlements. The sunset was particularly gorgeous, a wash of red and orange painting the dusky brown dust that dried to powder, whenever the rain stopped long enough to let it, in vibrant hues. And though he ached to turn over his shoulder and look toward where he knew Basgiath lay, where the dragon would fly from with their wares and his partner, his job was to watch the other direction for any sign of wyvern. 

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