Page 9 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“Beg pardon?”

He crossed one booted foot over the other.

“I’m not convinced you don’t have another blade hidden on your person.”

“I can assure you, Captain, that I—”

“Strip. Now.” He gave me an offhand smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll find that nudity on a vessel of this sort is a common thing. There isn’t a lot of privacy.”

I had figured that out already. However, stripping below decks for a quick wash was rather different than being told to take off your clothes in a man’s private quarters. Then again, I only hesitated because I was having trouble controlling my physical response to Captain Martin’s presence, and I didn’t want to give anything away. But in this situation, obedience was required.

“Right,” I said, taking a deep breath. “You asked for it.”

I grabbed the hem of my shirt and tugged the cloth over my head, shaking out my dirty hair as I revealed my upper half.

He tried, but couldn’t hide his astonishment. A burn scar like mine was a startling sight.

Perhaps the horrible disfigurement would distract him from other revelations. The ruined skin was a part of me and of what I’d been through. The fact I’d survived and not died of horrible infection was a bloody miracle.

The captain leaned forward and squinted as I untied the rope belt holding my trousers up, then shoved them down and off. I stood there naked in front of him, my cock behaving itself for the moment.

He didn’t say anything, which was worse than if he had remarked on the obvious blemish. He stood and approached, then hovered his fingers over the rough skin on my hip.

“You can touch it,” I said, my voice barely there. My gaze flashed up to meet his. “It doesn’t hurt. Not anymore.”

Although I was slight and of average height, Captain Martin didn’t tower over me. I had to look up a bit; that was all. He gazed at me and I felt my cock swell and twitch. I closed my eyes, knowing that the truth of my feelings would be revealed before the end of this interview.

His fingertips traced the outline of my scar. The damaged skin was sensitive in places, but the phantom pain had mostly vanished. I tried to stay still as my body responded to his proximity, my nostrils picking up the scent of his clean sweat, and my prick stiffening even more.

Would he be offended by the thought that I was swollen for him? I had the sense that Captain Martin was a man who lived his life the way he pleased, and that he held no affection for, or interest in, women. But I could have been mistaken.

“Burn?”

“Yes, Captain,” I said, breath hitching as he continued to trace the edge, where it rose past my right nipple and swooped under my arm.

“Turn,” he said.

I obeyed, and he continued to where the scar descended down over my right buttock. I gasped. I’d not been touched that way in a long time.

“How did this happen?”

Perhaps he hadn’t yet noticed my indecency.

“Fire,” I said.

“When?”

“Ten years ago. I was twelve.”

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-two.”

“You don’t look that age.”

I leveled a steady gaze at him. “Don’t I?”

“Are you lying to me, Mr White?”

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