Origin (Scales 'n' Spells 1)

Cameron pulled back, his eyes searching Alric’s face. “If you’re not in the mood for sex, I’ll stop.”

Alric’s mouth opened and closed, no words emerging.

Expression hardening, Cameron sat further up. “But if you’re afraid to have sex with me because of your scars, then that’s a different matter. Which is it, Alric?”

Shit. Alric looked away from him, trying to regain his composure. Cameron read him far too well.

“Okay, no. This stops now.”

What did that mean? Alarmed, Alric’s head jerked back around. Cameron left his lap abruptly and he scrambled for him, trying to catch Cameron and draw him back in. “Wait—”

“Nope. I thought after I put the potion on your scars, you’d be okay with me. But you’re clearly not, so let’s put this into perspective.” Cameron faced him, arms akimbo, a dark frown on his face. “I’m not perfect either, Alric. I have scars too.”

Alric stared back at him, thrown for a mental loop. “You do?”

“Hell yeah, man. It’s not like I was wrapped in silk my entire life. I’ve got quite a few. Let me show you. Most are small, I grant you, but this one” —Cameron pulled at the sleeve of his shirt to expose an elbow—“I had three warts there that I had removed, and they got infected so they didn’t heal clean.” He toed off his shoes and then yanked off socks, leaving them carelessly aside. “And then there’s this scar here, right next to my big toe. Mom accidentally dropped her sewing scissors when I was about three, nearly took my toe off. She still feels guilty about it.”

Alric looked at the scar on Cameron’s bare foot, barely able to see the thin white line, it was so old. Where was he going with this?

Cameron stripped his shirt off and Alric’s question died unspoken at seeing all of that lovely skin exposed. His libido was desperately trying to turn off his brain. Why were they talking about scars again? He just wanted to get his hands on the man. Cameron didn’t have the perfect of a gym rat, but he was perfect to Alric’s eyes. Not too slim, the muscles smooth without being ultra-defined. His hands twitched with the need to caress every inch of that olive-toned skin.

“—three dots here where they took out my appendix,” Cameron was saying, pointing to them before turning and exposing his back to Alric. “And see that round, puckered looking scar? My neighbor as a kid was practicing with his bow and arrow, and he shot over the fence by mistake and hit me. It went in like a quarter of an inch, not bad, but it left the scar behind. I screamed bloody murder when it happened. I understand he’s still banned for life from picking up a bow. Oh, and here—”

The words flowed over Alric, none of them sinking in past the surface. He watched like a man spellbound as Cameron casually took off his pants and kicked them to the side, revealing a pair of bright red boxer briefs beautifully molded to his body. It actually took Alric a moment to drag his eyes to where Cameron pointed to an oddly shaped scar just above his knee. He couldn’t focus on it, his gaze wandering up over every inch of him. All he could see was this man, this beautiful, enchanting man who had stripped in front of Alric, leaving him in boxers. He saw golden skin right there, within reach to touch and caress.

Alric felt like whimpering.

“Are you listening? Alric, hello?”

Alric’s eyes came back up to Cameron’s through sheer willpower. His mouth was dry, his breath coming a bit quick in his lungs. “What?”

Cameron watched him as if he knew very well what sort of perverted thoughts were going through Alric’s mind and seemed amused by it. “What do you think?”

“I’m afraid I lost the thread,” Alric admitted hoarsely. If Cameron didn’t put clothes back on, immediately, he was going to be flat on his back with a dragon on top of him.

“See!” Cameron exclaimed as if he’d just validated some point Cameron had been trying to make. “You don’t care about my scars at all! You still want me. I feel the same about you, okay?”

Those words penetrated the fog of lust. Alric blinked, clearing his vision, and looked Cameron over from head to foot once more. This time, he did focus on the imperfections but…well, what did they matter? Cameron was right, they had no bearing whatsoever on how Alric felt for him. All of that was skin deep and had nothing to do with the amazing man standing in front of him. The man he wanted rather desperately.

If Cameron felt the same way about it that he did, then indeed, what was there to be afraid of? Alric had always compared himself to what he had been, what he had lost. But Cameron didn’t know the Alric of five hundred years ago. He knew only the man he saw today. He saw him precisely as he was.