Crozier shakes his head. He’s here to atone, just as Hickey had done. He’d been a terrible captain, a brute, too in the bottle to do anything but lead from his cabin.

He keeps his hands on the scars and kisses him, drawing him closer to press his hips flush against him. His hands caress along the curve of his hip and down his thighs, over those scars with deliberate tenderness.

He loves all of him, especially the part he’d marred.