“I want to do something. A job. On the ship.”
Hal raised his eyebrows and set down his cup of breakfast tea. “A job?”
“I don’t want to be useless baggage, Hal.” Hal had returned to his duties on the ship after their day of pleasure and Kyle didn’t feel right about lounging in the cabin with nothing to do while the rest of the crew worked. Plus he was bored. The seas had been rough the past few days, so painting was out of the question and reading the books he’d found stashed in a trunk while the ship rocked made his stomach churn. “I want to pull my weight.”
“I don’t know, Kyle,” Hal said. “You’ve never worked on a ship before.”
Kyle frowned. “Do you think I can’t? Because I’m a soft and spoiled nobleman?”
Hal shook his head and reached across the table to touch Kyle’s hand. “No, I don’t think you’re soft,” he said, looking into Kyle’s eyes. “It’s just that if you’re inexperienced with a ship, it can be dangerous and …” Hal sighed and sat back in his chair. “All right. If you’re going to pout at me like that, then I’ll ask Kilowog what you can help with.”
After breakfast, they approached the large man up on deck. Kilowog eyed Kyle skeptically. “What do you know how to do, boy?”
“I can …” Kyle thought. What was he good at? What had he done back home? He’d spent most of his time going to parties and drinking himself stupid, like any other young nobleman. He looked around the deck, at the men mending ropes and stitching canvas and … “There,” he said, pointing at the men tarring the ropes that ran from ship to masts. “I can paint.”
Hal looked skeptical. Kilowog laughed outright. “You know that’s a messy job?” the big man asked. “You’ll be getting your hands dirty.”
Kyle looked at Hal, then back up to Kilowog. Maybe it was the perfect job for him, to prove to them he was capable. “I can do it.”
“All right,” Kilowog said. He clasped Kyle’s shoulder in his huge hand and guided him over to the crew working with the tar. Now that he was standing over the buckets, the pungent smell made his eyes water, and Kyle regretted volunteering for the job. “Isamot, show Mister Rayner how to tar down the ropes.”
“Certainly, Mister Kilowog,” a wiry man said with a wide grin.
Kyle looked up at the men scampering between the lines above him, slathering tar onto the rope. His stomach lurched and he swallowed hard. “Do I have to go up there?”
Kilowog chuckled and clapped him on the back. “Not yet. We’ll get you started down here first.”
Kyle wrinkled his nose, still looking up at the men above him. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get up that high without tossing his lunch.
Isamot Kol turned out to be a pleasant man. “Just like this,” he said in a thick Slavic accent, showing Kyle how to move the brush over the thick hemp fastened at deck level. “You must cover it completely or we must do it all over again.”
Kyle did as he was instructed, slathering the thick tar into the hemp, blinking to fight the dizziness from the smell.
“After this, we must plug the leaks below with oakum — tar and hemp,” Isamot said cheerily.
“Looking forward to it,” Kyle mumbled. He looked over his shoulder, but Hal and Kilowog had already moved away, heads bent together in discussion. Well, at least they didn’t feel the need to watch over what he was doing. That was a good sign.
“You are not used to this kind of work, yes?” Isamot asked.
“No,” Kyle said sharply, expecting to have to defend his presence. “But I’m quite capable of the job.”
“Ah, no. You misunderstand. I do not question your ability. Just … making conversation?” Isamot lowered his eyes and shrugged. “I do not meet any noblemen where I come from.”
“Sorry,” Kyle said. “It’s just …” He lowered he head close to Isamot’s. “The captain’s not sure I can handle this,” he whispered.
Isamot’s brows furrowed. “So why do you have to work? We thought you and Captain …” The man’s cheeks went ruddy. “You know …” He made an unmistakable gesture with his hands.
Kyle felt his own cheeks go warm. “Yes. We are. But I wanted to pull my weight. Be a part of the crew.”
Isamot smiled broadly. “That is good. This is good crew. Many here came from bad places, servants and slaves. But here, everybody is equal. Everybody work together. Everybody friends. Watch.” He turned his face up to the man working above them. It was the scarred man who had taken Kyle from Scott’s ship with Guy. “You work too slow, Vath!” Isamot yelled, waving his brush towards the man. “And you need more tar or ropes will rot!”
“Shut up, Kol,” the man growled back.
Isamot turned back to Kyle. “See? Back home, he would have jumped down here and cut my throat in an instant! Our peoples have been fighting for … centuries! But here, we are best of friends!”
Kyle heard the snort from Vath. But the man didn’t outright object to Isamot’s statement.
“Well, Kilowog was right about getting my hands dirty.”
Kyle tossed the cloth on the table and held up his hands. The whorls on his fingers were stained from the tar, as were his fingernails. The olive oil that Isamot had recommended had gotten most of it off, but he figured it didn’t matter anyway—they’d just get covered in tar again tomorrow. He smiled and turned to look at Hal. “My father would have a fit if he saw my hands looking like this.”
Hal took Kyle’s hands in his own. “Then you can be proud of them,” he said and kissed the tips of Kyle’s fingers. Kyle touched Hal’s cheek, moved closer to kiss him, but a knock on the door interrupted them.
“The others are here for dinner,” Hal murmured into Kyle’s ear. “We can continue this later.” He stole a quick kiss and went to the door.
The officers came in, followed by the sailors carrying dinner, a stew of vegetables. Kyle tried not to be put out by the intrusion—it was he who had come along and interrupted the routine of the ship afer all.
After dinner, John laid a map on the table and pointed to a group of islands. “We’ll be in the Turks & Caicos in a week, maybe ten days,” he said.
Hal nodded. “Then we’ll stop for a day or two. Gather some provisions. And have a bit of shore leave.”
The officers all smiled broadly at the news. “I’ll inform the crew,” Salaak said, rising from his seat. The other officers followed him out, sailors came in to clear away the dishes, and then Hal and Kyle were finally alone again.
“Come here,” Hal said. He sat in a chair and pulled Kyle down to straddle his lap. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” He deftly opened Kyle’s shirt and reached inside to run his hands over Kyle’s chest, his thumbs pausing to tease Kyle’s nipples until they hardened. Kyle sighed and gripped Hal’s shoulders as he watched his lover explore his body, Hal’s eyes intent on what he was doing.
Hal slid his hands down to Kyle’s waist and pulled him close so he could lay kisses over Kyle’s chest, his lips brushing through the sprinkling of dark hair. Then his hands gripped Kyle’s arse, squeezing his buttocks. “I want you,” Hal whispered against his skin. Kyle stood up and Hal followed, but rather than heading for the bed, Hal grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around him. “Right here,” he growled. His fingers went to the buttons of Kyle’s trousers. “I want you here on the table.” Kyle’s heart leapt at the command, at the raw desire in Hal’s voice. Todd had never spoken to him like this…
Hal pushed Kyle forward so he was leaning over the table, his hands splayed apart to hold himself up. He pulled Kyle’s breeches down so they fell around his ankles, then grabbed the bottle of olive oil from the dresser. “There’s more uses for this than cleaning the tar from your hands,” Hal said.
Kyle shivered when he felt the cool oil dribble into the cleft of his arse, followed by Hal’s fingers. Hal leaned over, pressing himself against Kyle to kiss the center of his back. When Hal pushed inside him in one smooth stroke, Kyle arched his back and moaned.
Hal chuckled. “See, the oil makes it nice and easy.” Kyle sighed in agreement. Hal filled him, but there wasn’t any pain, only the feeling of Hal sliding into him. Hal reached around to grasp his cock and Kyle gasped and dug his fingernails into the varnished wood. Everything became a blur of heat and need as Hal pleasured him from both sides and all Kyle could do was try to remain standing.
Kyle came quickly, spurting semen onto the table between his hands, and Hal came right after. They collapsed onto the table, Hal’s face pressed into his back and his breath hot through Kyle’s sweaty shirt. “That was … really good,” Kyle gasped out. He smiled over his shoulder at Hal.
Hal straightened and gave Kyle a smack on the rump. “No argument from me.”
They washed up, then Kyle went to his trunk to get a new shirt.
“Who is this?” Hal asked over his shoulder. He bent down to pick up the small frame that was nestled in the bottom of the trunk.
Kyle stood and looked at the drawing, at the woman smiling out at him. “My mother.” He pulled on his clean shirt. “I drew her a few months before she died.”
“You were close to her?” Hal asked. He carefully set the picture back into the trunk.
“She always loved me, no matter what. She supported me when I wanted to study art. She knew about Todd and me. She caught us holding hands in the garden and she only admonished us to be more careful.” Memories of Maura Rayner’s cheerful eyes, her Irish lilt, her musical laugh came flooding back. He angrily wiped at his eyes. “My father killed her, Hal. The doctors think he brought some disease home from one of his London whores. Nothing could save her. She died in pain, and that bastard’s still alive.” He looked at Hal, no longer caring that tears were streaming down his cheeks. “And then he had the nerve to judge me about who I chose to fuck.”
“I’m sorry.” Hal enveloped him in an embrace.
Kyle nodded into his shoulder. “I guess we both escaped him,” he said softly. “I just managed not to die in the process.” He stepped back and shook his head. “Sorry to burden you with my family troubles.”
“You won’t ever burden me with your troubles,” Hal said. He kissed Kyle’s brow.
Kyle reached out to play with the buttons of Hal’s shirt. “Well, you know about my family now. What’s yours like?”
Hal sighed. “My own story isn’t much better. My father died when I was a boy, lost at sea. My mum and I … well, she didn’t want me to go to sea like him. But I went anyway. We never reconciled. She died just after I was made lieutenant. My brothers resented me for causing her so much grief. And then …” He held his hands out, gesturing at the ship. “Then I became a pirate. I haven’t spoken to them in years. Alan told me they’ve both married and have families…”
He trailed off and Kyle could see the hurt in his eyes from being cut off from his brothers. Kyle stepped close and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m sorry.”
Hal shook his head. “They are better off without me.” Then he stepped back and kissed Kyle. “And I’m glad you had such a loving mother to encourage you.” He ran his fingers through Kyle’s hair, pulling out the tie that held the pigtail so it fell loose at his shoulders. “When we are on shore leave, you’ll have solid ground so you can paint all day if you like.” He bent to kiss Kyle’s neck, running his tongue over the soft skin. “Though, I may pull you away from your paints once or twice,” he whispered in Kyle’s ear. “For purely selfish reasons.”
Kyle turned his face so he could gently kiss the line of Hal’s jaw. “And what reasons would those be, Captain?” he asked softly.
Hal grinned and took Kyle’s hand. “Come to bed and I’ll show you.”