Kidnapped by the Pirate

Nathaniel said, “I thought they couldn’t take you if you were under eighteen.”

“That’s a fairly new amendment to the law. Then, there was no limit. And the Crown’s rules on paper don’t often matter a whit in the real world.”

“What did you do aboard the ship?”

“Powder monkey at first—carried gunpowder from the magazines to the artillery guns. I was still small, so I could get around well in tight spaces.”

“You? Small?”

Hawk found himself smiling. “Again, I didn’t emerge from the womb this way. But my father was tall, and it kicked in after a couple of years. I sprouted up and didn’t stop.”

“What were your duties outside of battle?”

His right arm cramped where it was folded, Nathaniel’s weight against it where he pressed all along Hawk’s side. Yet Hawk didn’t shift to alleviate it.

“Hauled the lines. Manned the bilge pumps. Whatever menial tasks they ordered since they realized I was a landman after all. But I was eager to learn the ways of sailors. It wasn’t the way I’d imagined, and the reality was stark compared to my boyhood fantasies of the sea’s freedom. But I was determined to make the best of it. Better myself. They soon discovered I had the keen eye to be a lookout. Called me the little sea hawk.”

Nathaniel laughed softly. “Ah. So that explains it. And you kept learning as the years passed?”

“One of the officers took an interest in me. A fatherly sort. Saw my potential, he told me. Eventually taught me to read as well.” He hadn’t allowed himself to think of Lieutenant Wiltshire in years. Now, Hawk closed his eyes to the memory of the man’s neck impaled with wood, the deck having exploded with a direct hit, his eyes bugged out.

Nathaniel’s feather touch returned to the faded scars across Hawk’s arse. “What was your crime to suffer this?”

“Theft of rations.”

John had actually been the one to squirrel away the extra food, determined that they should desert as soon as they could and that they’d need their strength. He’d protested when Hawk took the blame, but Hawk couldn’t bear the thought of that smooth, pale flesh being marred.

He went on. “I was still young, so I was lucky. I had to kiss the gunner’s daughter instead of being lashed to the grate on the main deck and having my back whipped. I was given the reduced cat—five tails instead of nine. But they gave me twenty strikes, to show the severity of my crime.”

Nathaniel gasped. Then he asked, “Kiss the gunner’s daughter?”

“Bent over a cannon so they could whip my arse. Arms straight out in front of me along the barrel, trousers down. The crew gathered around, especially the other boys, so they learned a lesson. The boatswain administered the punishment. It was humiliating, of course. I couldn’t sit for a week. Could barely sleep.” Poor John had tried everything to ease his pain, to little avail. “They didn’t intend for it to scar, but here we are.”

“I wonder…” Nathaniel caressed the ridges.

Hawk waited, gaze sweeping over the arc of Ursa Minor. Finally, he prompted, “What?”

When Nathaniel spoke, it was a whisper. “I wonder what’s wrong with me, that I enjoy such treatment.”

Jolted by surprise and sudden fury snaking through him, Hawk turned his head and shifted onto his left hip to face Nathaniel, reaching for him. “Was it your father? Did he often cane you?”

Nathaniel blinked. “No. No, I meant…the other day, bent over your desk.”

His mouth went dry. “Did I truly hurt you? I thought…” Self-loathing burned a path through him like cheap rum.

“No, no.” Nathaniel pressed his hand flat on Hawk’s chest. “As I said, I liked it. But it’s odd, isn’t it? Wrong? I know I’m unnatural, but in this I seem doubly so.”

Hawk cupped his face, thumb brushing against the hair that struggled to grow on Nathaniel’s cheek. “Would I not be wrong as well? Since I’m the one who restrained you and gained such pleasure from it?”

He curled his fingers in the hair scattered over Hawk’s tattoo. “I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t the same as the punishment I received. I took no pleasure from that. No pleasure was offered. What we did isn’t the same. My sense was that you wished it. Had yearned for it. To be fucked that way. Mastered, but also…liberated.”

Nathaniel nodded. “I did. I wanted it. I want it still.” He inched closer, eyes gleaming in the faint moonlight, palm stroking Hawk’s chest, their legs tangled. “I can’t explain it, but I’ve craved it. To give myself over like that. You don’t think it’s wrong?”

“Not if permission is granted. Not if the desire is present in both parties, and I assure you it was.”

Nathaniel seemed to ponder that. Then he asked, “When a man falls victim to impressment, how long is his service?”