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“Not anymore, not since they cut back on most of it,” Oscar said, a strange look in his dark eyes.

Troy nodded, feeling along Oscar’s thighs. “Since you’ve been off the meds, have you experienced any unexpected pain?”

“No.”

“Stiffness?”

“No.”

Troy looked up, frowning at the hesitation. “If you have, I need to know.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “No.”

Troy sighed, stepping back, more than prepared to lecture Oscar. The man had always been so damned stubborn about taking care of himself. Troy had found himself on the edge of exasperation and despair every time he tried to figure out if something was wrong, even if it was something as simple as a headache.

Then he looked down, and his lecture died in his throat.

“Ah,” was all he could manage.

The front of Oscar’s black boxer briefs had a very noticeable bulge. Apparently, Troy hadn’t been the only one struggling to stay in control while examining Oscar. Troy had to suck in a breath as memory and reality collided, and he found himself staring at the thick outline.

Troy staredat the beast of a man with a cock to match and snorted. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Oscar’s laugh was deep and throaty. “Well, I was kind of hoping you’d put it in your mouth.”

“You have such a way with words, Reyes.”

“I aim to please, Boaz.”

Troy reached out, caressing Oscar. “I guess that’s why man invented lube.”

Oscar leaned forward, cupping Troy’s face in a sweet and possessive grip. “I’ll be gentle.”

Troy smiled, never having doubted it for a second.

Oscar cleared his throat,jerking Troy from his thoughts. “So, no pain, no discomfort, no...stiffness.”

Troy raised his head quickly, adopting a neutral expression as though his cheeks weren’t flaming. “So, no signs of withdrawal, and you’re not suffering, good.”

Keeping his eyes at chest level and higher, Troy returned to what he was doing. Neither spoke as Troy listened to Oscar’s lungs and checked his blood pressure and the lymph nodes in his neck. He checked Oscar’s throat and pupils, carefully kept his eyes where he needed to work, and tested his reflexes.

“Seems like you’re doing just fine, other than what we’d expect from someone half a year after almost getting blown up. You’re lucky this didn’t happen a few more years from now,” Troy noted.

“Why’s that?” Oscar asked.

“Once you hit thirty, you don’t bounce back as easily. As it is, you managed it at the tail end of the best years for it,” Troy noted as he picked up his tablet and began tapping.

“That’s...not comforting,” Oscar said.

Troy looked up, smiling sadly. “Do you want me to be comforting?”

Oscar blinked before his frown returned. “Can I put my clothes back on?”

“Yeah.”

Troy nodded, not surprised in the slightest. For all the progress he once made to get through Oscar’s prickly barriers, he’d never got close enough. Oscar forever held himself separate from others, and Troy hadn’t learned that until it was too late. There was no comfort to offer Oscar, no hand-holding, and no grief to share. There was only Oscar, impossible to connect with, determined to growl and stomp.

“Are we done here?” Oscar asked as he pulled on the last of his uniform.