Chapter Two
Making Headway
My fingers clutched the arms of the chair as I blinked up at Dinesh’s bare chest and the razor he held in his hand.
“For fuck’s sake, be careful,” I muttered.
“Rooster, I’ve been shaving myself for more years than you have. And I have much better equipment,” he said with an arched eyebrow.
Dinesh had bent a large pillow from the bed over the top edge of the chair so I could lean my head back comfortably, facing the ceiling.
He’d taken one look at the rusted razor I’d nicked from an unfortunate crewmate and tossed it overboard, allowing me to use his finer and newer implement to keep my chin bare.
But this time he insisted that he do the honour, which I had to admit was more frightening than being tied up in ropes and subjected to his amorous attentions.
Because one wrong move could be disastrous.
“If you stay still, you’ll be fine.”
“If you say so,” I said, eyes wide. Perhaps I hadn’t thought this through. “Hold on. You’re not only talking about your razor, are you?”
He grinned. “Still, a good, clean, sharp blade, in the right hands, will give you a face as soft as a baby’s bottom.”
My eyes went wide. “I’m not sure you should want my face to be, in any way, like a baby’s bottom. I don’t think I do.”
“Merely an expression. In point of fact, I have no idea how soft a baby’s bottom actually is.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would, at that.”
He put the razor down on a soft towel he’d laid out on the dresser.
“What are you doing?”
“I have some lovely soap from Paris.”
I blinked. And then I grinned. And then I started to laugh.
“You and your fancy soap. If I had known, back in that tavern in Port Royal, that living on a pirate ship would offer me this much comfort…well, I’d not have believed it.”
He had the grace to blush.
“Well, I do like my little luxuries, you see.”
“Oh, I know you do. I recall you shoving one of them up my arse,” I said, with a leer.
“Ah, yes. That was wonderful. Got you clean inside and out, it did.”
“Aye. And then you had your filthy way with me. And continue to do so on every possible occasion.”
“I confess it. You haven’t given me any complaints.”
“Oh, no, I’m quite pleased with the situation.”
“Yes, I thought so. Now stop talking, because I need to do this properly.”
“I’ve heard that before…”
“Rooster…”
“Yes, Captain. I’ll be good.”
There was a knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting an interruption.
“Come!” Dinesh said.
Martinéz came in with a pitcher and a soft cloth. Steam swirled from the earthenware vessel as he winked at me.
“Thank you, Martinéz. Place it on the dresser, will you?”
“Of course, Captain. There you are.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, touched that the captain would go to such lengths for me. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He took good care of my needs and my comfort.
Martinéz left and closed the door. Dinesh poured the steaming water into the wash basin and wetted the cloth. Then he wrung the water out and brought the washcloth over.
“Close your eyes, and simply enjoy.”
He arranged the steaming towel across my chin, then folded the ends over my eyes, so my entire face, but for my nostrils, became suffused with warmth.
“Good?” Dinesh asked.
“Aye,” I sighed.
“The heat will soften the hairs and open the pores of your skin to make the going easier and the result smoother.”
I drifted on a plane of relaxation whilst Dinesh repeated this process three times, since the towel only stayed warm for a short while.
I listened to the burr of the razor being stropped, back and forth, back and forth. Then to the swish of the shaving brush against the fine Castille soap. The heat from the warm towel helped me to drift in and out of awareness. My mind wandered as the captain prepared for the task at hand.
“All right,” the captain murmured as he removed the final towel from my face. “I’m going to use some fragranced oil on your skin, to make everything soft.”
“Mmm,” I hummed, enjoying the pampering, even though I was a tad nervous about letting him hold a sharp razor to my neck.
At least the sea was calm this morning. If the weather had been rough, I might have tried to put him off.
I was reminded of the first time he’d given my hair a trim after he’d treated me to a proper bath to remove the filth of several months.
Captain Martin had a range of skills, to be sure, and he’d attended to my hair regularly since then as I liked to keep my locks on the shorter side, but feathered around my ears and neck.
The captain rarely needed a trim as he kept his long and tied back with a ribbon during the day.
The scent of jasmine and orange filled my nostrils as the captain poured oil from a small vial into his palms and proceeded to smooth the mixture into the skin of my face.
“That smells good,” I said. “Fancy having all of these fine things on board.”
“I’m quite a collector.”
“Aye, I’m aware.”
Dinesh had already introduced me to a number of unique implements that he’d discovered on one of the ships they’d ransacked.
“Well. You never know what you might find on any of these merchant vessels. They are generally delivering items of quality for the upper classes. Which makes their appropriation for my personal…benefit…all the more enjoyable.”
“And advantages me as well,” I murmured, gazing up at him as he used his sensitive and skilled fingers in ways I wasn’t used to, but that had some of the same effects. “That feels quite good. You’re bringing me to a half-stand, you know.”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s not surprising, seeing how responsive you are to touching in general.”
He had a point.
“You had better settle down, however, as you don’t want to make any sudden movements for the next little while.”
“Of course, Captain. I shall endeavour to control my ardour.”
“Good lad. Now I must request that you stop talking so that I can do my job properly.”
I shut my mouth and closed my eyes, submitting to his care. The situation wasn’t all that dissimilar to our usual dynamic, when he would subdue me in ropes and have his wicked way with me. Perhaps that was contributing to my response.
He used the soft brush to rub the soapy froth into my short beard, ensuring that the hairs were covered well.
Then he grasped the tip of my nose between his fingers, pulling upward to keep the skin taut, and applied the razor to my sparse moustache.
He used a gentle touch to position my head as needed, and took his time shaving my cheeks and chin with short, careful strokes.
He was taking great care, and I was able to relax and not be concerned that he might make a wrong move with the sharp blade.
After a long space of time, during which I had to fight to stay awake as the captain’s attentions were so soothing and the scent of the oil and soap so pleasant, he made a contented noise and used a towel to wipe my face clean.
“One more go-over and that should do it.”
“More? My God, man, how long is this going to take?” As pleasant as the experience was, the procedure was taking longer than I’d anticipated.
He smiled at me sedately, holding the earthenware bowl and lathering up the shaving brush again.
“If you want something done properly, you don’t rush the process.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fuck, if that isn’t your entire philosophy. About everything.”
“You do know me well.”
I did, in fact. There was nothing he liked better than taking his time with me when we were intimate, making me wait and wait and wait for my release, whilst he took his own pleasure, often multiple times over. However, since for some reason I enjoyed being debased and used, we were a good match.
He lathered my face again and finished the shave. Afterwards, he cleaned me up and applied a soothing balm that smelled of camphor oil.
“There you are, my love. You look much better, and I won’t have to worry about the tickling when you see fit to swallow my…what do you call it—”
As if he didn’t know.
“—truncheon.” He flashed a smug grin as he removed the towel from below my neck. “Up you get.”
I sat up and touched my fingertips to my razored chin and cheeks as the captain handed me a looking glass. I took the carved handle and examined his work, turning from side to side to see the result.
“Oh, hell, I look right swank. Feels so soft. Thank you,” I said, passing the mirror back to him. “Shall I give up doing the job myself?”
“Perhaps not, but please do use my razor and accessories.”
“Well, I’ll have to, won’t I? Since you threw mine over the rail.”
“I’ll not have you using less-than-pristine implements on that pretty face. You are mine now, Simon Bartholomew White, and shall convey yourself appropriately.”
“Aye, aye, Captain. With pleasure.”
He leaned in and kissed me with a lazy, possessive air that thrilled me to my bones.
***
It took about nine weeks for the Arrow to get us near the coast of the Americas.
We’d been blessed with decent winds, very few storms, and generally fine weather.
My nightmares kept up their occasional torment, and I was hoping that soon I’d have absolved myself of any remaining guilt for the incident at Cayonne, and would be free of them.
“Hillier said we should be in sight of land in a day or two, although with the skies as they are at the moment, we won’t have a chance at spotting the shoreline.”
Dinesh was out of bed and already putting on his clothes. I sat up, leaning back on one hand, blinking in the daylight.
“Ain’t we gonna lounge a bit?” I asked, trying to look alluring in my sleep-dishevelled state. “Now that I’m able to maintain such a well-shaved face?”
I ran the tip of my finger along my smooth chin, where I’d put his fancy razor and lotion to good use on a regular basis.
He grinned as he fastened his trousers and pulled on his boots. Then he walked over and sat on the bed beside me, touching my cheek with loving affection.