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Time moves differently in these moments. It makes the strangeness of them easier to take. If the rules of time itself have gone mad, then Izzy can hardly be blamed for going along with it.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, prone in the captains’ bed. (Theirs, not his. He’s kept his own cabin, hung onto it despite the crew’s bitching that grows louder each time he spends a night in here. With all he’s done for Edward, he’s earned a door that he can shut behind him when he needs it.) He doesn’t know, and he’s been relieved of his obligation to care. With the curtains all drawn and a blindfold wrapped around his eyes, he can’t even use the change in the light from outside to track the hours, and with his hands firmly bound at the small of his back, he can take no action either way. It’s a cravat he’s been bound with, not proper rope, but still, the knots are good. Of course they are. Edward tied them.
Ed’s on top of him, has been for a while, fucking him deep and almost cruelly slow. His languid thrusts fall just short of adopting any rhythm. Izzy, with his weeping cock trapped between his belly and the sheets, is lost in the sensations with nothing to grab onto. Ed sends spikes of pleasure ripping through Izzy with every roll of his hips, but doesn’t let him chase his climax, bears down on him with his weight if he tries to rub himself off against the bed and refuses to move again until Izzy stills.
When Ed has him like this, helpless to do anything but take what he’s given, Izzy’s senses become attuned to his captain at the expense of all else. There is no cabin, no ship, nor any ocean cradling her. There’s only Edward, the ends of his hair brushing Izzy’s shoulders, his teeth scraping the back of Izzy’s neck, the dark sounds of pleasure that start low in his chest and that Izzy can feel in the pit of his stomach. Like this, Izzy has no identity, merely exists for his captain’s pleasure. If he’s kept here for days it will be because Edward wishes it so, and that’s so good, it’s so right.
“Oh, Iz,” Edward sighs. He pulls almost all the way out and then slowly eases himself back in, the torturous pace making Izzy exquisitely aware of every inch he’s taking. “Fuck, look at you. Taking me so well. Bein’ so sweet for me.”
Endurance comes naturally to Izzy; sweetness does not. He’s been trying so hard to abandon his old habits, to ask Ed for what he wants instead of goading him into giving it, to trust Ed when he surrenders control. Mostly it’s led to several awkward moments, a few full-blown arguments and a whole lot of uncomfortable mornings-after. The fact that it can also lead to nights like this makes it all worth it.
Izzy feels a warm hand on his face, not nearly as calloused as Ed’s or his own but well on its way. The fingers slide from his cheek up to his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead.
“Izzy? Are you alright?”
Despite being blindfolded, Izzy lifts his head toward the voice. “Yes, captain,” he says as clearly as he can through the fuck-drunk haze he’s in. This is one of the rules. If Izzy answers this question any other way- by snapping, or turning away, or even just gritting out “I’m fine” instead of “Yes, captain”- then things will come to a pause while Stede gets the truth out of him. And he will get the truth out of him; Stede Bonnet is relentless, in a way that Izzy’s life has not at all prepared him to resist.
“Good,” Stede purrs, stroking Izzy’s hair. “That’s very good. We’re so pleased with you.”
The praise makes a knot tighten in Izzy’s chest. He buries his face against the pillow beneath him and breathes through it. They won’t put a stop to things if he breaks down. He had to beg them not to, the first few times, but they relented in the end. Still, Izzy fights it, because that’s what he is, a fighter, by name and by nature. He can make himself surrender to Ed and even Stede, but he can’t yet bring himself to surrender to his own emotions. Not willingly.
Ed leans to down to plant a sucking kiss behind his ear, making his skin prickle despite the heat of the room. They’re both sweating, the skin of Ed’s chest and Izzy’s back slick as they rub together. It shouldn’t take this much effort to just lie still and be fucked, but nevertheless Izzy’s breathing hard, panting, really. From the exertion of being on the edge for so long, and from the frustration that comes of clenching his teeth and not screaming for Ed to just do it, already, fuck him like he means it. Izzy promised not to. Ed and Stede have both stuck to the rules they agreed to; the least Izzy can do is the same.
He nearly fails, though, when Ed pulls all the way out of him and then sits up, his presence at Izzy’s back vanishing. Izzy manages to bite down on his tongue at the last second and replaces the string of curses he has in mind with a groan. Technically not a transgression, although Ed seems to be able to hear the intent behind it anyway, because he snickers and gives Izzy a soft swat across the ass.
“Don’t worry, mate, I’m not done with you. Just havin’ a breather.”
Izzy says nothing, trying to catch his breath and ignore how empty he feels. He’s still painfully hard, worked up enough that a few seconds of a good, firm touch are all he needs, which of course is why Ed isn’t touching him. He likes Izzy desperate. Fucking bastard.
Izzy hears tender sentiments being exchanged between Stede and Ed, hears the soft sound of kissing and then some rougher, more urgent sounds. Stede isn’t on the bed with him, so he must be seated at the writing desk next to it, and judging by the way the sounds progress, Stede’s moans and Ed’s considerably more muffled ones, it’s not hard to figure that Ed is kneeling between his thighs. So much for a breather, but that’s Ed for you. Never able to relax for very long.
It’s strange, the fact that Izzy knows what Stede sounds like when he’s having his dick sucked, despite the fact that his own intimate contact with the man hasn’t gone farther than that one kiss, the first time they did this. Stede’s refused to let things go farther until Izzy asks for it, and only if he asks for it beforehand, when they’re having their little talks about what will happen. Not now, not when he’s bound and hard and willing to do anything they ask of him.
Madmen, the both of them. Izzy can only guess their madnesses called to one another and that’s how they ended up here. He doesn’t believe in God, but if he did, it wouldn’t be in one that allowed this sort of thing to happen.
At first Izzy assumed Stede must not be interested in him, but he’s had to admit he knows that isn’t true. He’s seen the way Stede looks at him, not just when he’s with Ed but alone, sometimes, as well. Particularly when he thinks Izzy doesn’t know he’s being watched. Izzy’s a pirate, after all, and Stede’s admiration for pirates is well established. And there’s been a few times now when Izzy has almost managed it, to force his mouth to form the words asking Stede to use him the way Ed does, but he’s always balked at the last minute.
In his heart, Izzy knows he would enjoy it. And he knows that in these moments, when the air is heavy and damp with lust, Bonnet would enjoy it too. That certainty vanishes in the cold light of day, though, and Izzy just can’t force himself to say anything to him that runs the risk of being rejected.
Because yes, alright, empirically Stede’s constructed in a way that Izzy doesn’t mind looking at. If Izzy didn’t know the man and had never, ever heard him speak, he might even go so far as to describe him as attractive. And in another life, one where a young Izzy never learned from the business end of a horsewhip what happens to common boys who stare too long at their pretty rich masters, he might have entertained certain thoughts about a man like Stede. But that’s all they ever would have been, just thoughts, because gentlemen don’t go for boys like him.
Fortunately for him, men like Edward do. Or at least, men like the kind Edward used to be. Each time Ed is gentle with him, Izzy can’t help but wonder if it will be the last time. Because Ed has decided that he deserves nicer things, and that’s not what Izzy is. He’ll realize that soon. So will Stede.
He shakes his head, trying to push that dark thought away, but once it’s there it grows. It doesn’t help that Ed’s no longer touching him, and the bonds and the blindfold have gone from feeling comforting to restrictive. He’s aware of how helpless he is, how there’s nothing to stop either or both of them from getting up and just leaving him here. He knows that’s ridiculous, he can still hear them, for fuck’s sake, but the anxiety refuses to abate and he finds himself twisting his hands against the bonds for the first time since Ed tied him up.
There’ll be no relief for him if he slips the bonds. What will happen is another one of Bonnet’s bloody conversations. It would be tolerable if he shouted at Izzy, but of course he never does. What he’ll do instead is force Izzy to watch him pour tea and mince around while the ship drifts to God knows where, and he won’t allow Izzy to leave until he gives in and explains why, instead of using his words, he decided the better option was “fussing for attention”, as Stede so mortifyingly puts it.
There’s a lot of things Izzy can handle, but being talked to like he’s a child isn’t one of them. It’s a battle of wills he simply cannot win.
“Ed,” he says, quietly and roughly enough that it could be mistaken for a clearing of his throat, if they would prefer to ignore him. He really doesn’t want to ruin things for them. He just can’t stand to feel so lost.
Of course, they don’t ignore him. They never do.
“Hey, Iz.” Ed’s hand falls on the back of Izzy’s neck and he immediately feels better. His instinct is to go quiet and still again, but Ed then asks, “What do you need?” And Izzy knows better than to ignore a direct question.
You have to ask us for things, Izzy. We can’t give you what you need, if you don’t ask for it.
“The blindfold,” Izzy forces out. “It’s too much. I need it off, I can’t…”
Ed’s fingers are already moving, pulling the knot apart, pulling the soft fabric away. Izzy blinks in the cabin’s dim light, takes in the two of them, Stede half-dressed and Ed gloriously naked, both of them looking at him with grave concern.
“There you are,” Stede says softly, reaching out to brush his knuckles over Izzy’s cheek. “Do you need us to untie you? We can stop if you want to, dear.”
Izzy shakes his head. “I’m good now,” he says, and means it. He’s promised them he won’t lie, and he’s fine now that he can see them both and know that he hasn’t been abandoned.
Stede keeps a watchful eye on Izzy as he and Ed get back to what they were doing, and gradually Izzy feels safe enough to let his eyes fall shut.
The familiar sounds of Ed and Stede together continue, soothing Izzy now as much as they might have burned him before. These sounds mean that Edward is happy, that he’s safe. He’s got Izzy to watch his back and Bonnet to protect his heart. It’s a bizarre arrangement but it’s one that works. Stede has the adventure and romance he always craved, Ed has the gentle touches he wants and the submission he needs, and Izzy…
Izzy has his place in the world, at Ed’s side. For a little bit longer. For one more night. Until the darkness in Ed is gone for good, and with it his need for what Izzy has to offer.
He’s half-dozed off when he feels Ed’s weight settle over him again, feels the head of Ed’s prick rubbing over his stretched and sore rim. He opens his eyes and is met with Ed’s shadow on the wall in front of him, a darkness that seems to engulf the entire bed.
“What d’you think, Stede?” Ed says in a predatory rumble that sends shivers down Izzy’s spine. “Think he’s earned himself a proper fucking?”
“I’d say he has,” Stede ventures. He sounds out of breath. “He’s been so patient for us, after all.”
Ed’s still teasing Izzy with his cock, not quite pressing in, and it’s taking all of Izzy’s willpower not to scream with frustration.
“Hm. He did interrupt us, though.”
There’s a beat of silence, and when Stede speaks again, his voice’s playful lilt is gone. “Only to tell us he was uncomfortable, love. We don’t punish each other for having limits, remember?”
“Right,” Ed whispers, the self-admonishment in his tone clear even as it keeps its earlier heat. “That’s right, we don’t. Alright, Iz, let’s get you what you asked for.”
He grips Izzy’s hips with his strong hands and thrusts all the way in. Izzy barely has time to bite back a howl before he’s having his breath completely fucked out of him. Edward’s motions have none of their previous languor. These are the strong, irresistible movements of a man taking what he knows to be his.
“There,” Ed growls. “This is what you want, isn’t it? To be used like a cheap whore?”
“Yes, yes captain.” Izzy’s determined to choke the words out, even if it’s almost impossible that Ed will hear them. Without his arms to support his upper body, his face is being driven steadily into the mattress with Ed’s thrusts. He’s truly helpless, nothing but an object of Ed’s fulfillment, and yes, that’s what he wants. It isn’t everything he wants, but he senses the other thing he asked for isn’t far behind. He’s felt it building since Stede told him he was being good.
Ed jerks Izzy’s hips a little higher, coils his arm around Izzy’s waist and gives his throbbing dick a hard squeeze.
“Fuck yeah, you love it. You wanna come, sweetheart?”
If it was Stede in Izzy’s place, the term of endearment would sound tender. Directed at Izzy, it’s sharp as a blade between the ribs, and judging by the sound Izzy hears himself make, it might as well be.
“Yes,” he whimpers. “Yes, please.”
“Beg for it.”
Izzy hesitates, and Ed’s hand comes down on his ass in a stinging slap.
“You fuckin’ heard me, Izzy.”
The back of Izzy’s throat feels raw. He’s so close.
“Please, Edward,” he manages. “Please, let me come, I need it, please.”
“Think you deserve it, do you? Tell me why.” Ed sounds a little ragged himself. Makes sense, he’s been at this as long as Izzy has. He puts so much work into keeping Izzy content, work that maybe Izzy doesn’t deserve, but he’s been ordered to answer Ed’s question and he’ll do his best or die trying.
“I’ve been good…I’ve done everything you asked me to, and I haven’t talked back, I’ve been sweet for you, captain, please…” Izzy’s a few short moments from dissolving into incoherency. He wonders if that will count as failing to obey Ed’s order and heaves a dry sob. Close, so bloody close, he just needs a little more…
“Fuck fuck fuck, that’s it, that’s fucking it-“ Ed snaps his hips hard, the force of his climax driving Izzy deeper into the bed and muffling his cries. He takes his time about it, grinding against Izzy as he spends himself, thrusting his softening cock into the wet mess he’s made of his first mate until he slips out of him.
He lets go of Izzy’s hips and Izzy collapses, still shivering with need. Suddenly he’s being grabbed and flipped onto his back. He lands face-up and gasping, hands pinned beneath him, cock bobbing up against his stomach until Ed wraps one spit-slick hand around it.
“Come on then, if you want it so bad.” Now that Izzy can finally look Ed fully in the face, he can see the darkness in his eyes, a darkness that these days seems reserved for Izzy alone. It’s heady stuff, and Izzy can only take so much of it before his mind cowers and makes him shut his eyes against it.
But Ed’s having none of it.
“Look at me, Israel,” he barks, and before Izzy can obey he slaps him across the cheek for good measure. The shock and the sting sends Izzy’s eyes flying open, his jaw dropping open in a soundless cry.
Ed’s hand that isn’t stroking Izzy’s cock reaches up to twist viciously into his hair. “You’ll fucking look at me while I give this to you, and you’ll thank me for it. Understand?”
Izzy’s eyes are starting to blur. “Yes, captain,” he moans. “Thank you, thank you, god, yes, thank you.”
He comes in messy spurts all over his chest and Ed’s hand, his eyes rolling back in his head as he tries and fails to obey Ed’s command. And it’s that, the knowledge that there are things he cannot do for his captain no matter how hard he tries, that finally breaks the barrier inside his brain and gives him what he needs.
His eyes burn, and at last the tears start to flow.
——
For Stede, Izzy’s tears are the sign that the hard part is over.
It’s dangerous, this game that the three of them have been playing. Every time Izzy comes to their cabin there’s always a chance things can end in anger, with Izzy storming off and Edward looking after him with his eyes huge and hurt. The good news is that becomes less likely each time. Even the harder conversations have their useful moments, a boundary drawn here, a flash of insight there, that Stede can work into the structure they’ve tried to build. Izzy doesn’t like to talk about his feelings, but he does like rules, thank God.
The rules require Izzy to ask for what he wants. He wanted Ed and Stede to make him cry, and knowing that, Stede can watch him crumple back against the mattress with tears streaming from his eyes with the satisfaction of a job well-done, instead of terror that he’s helped further damage this already deeply damaged man.
Stede won’t pretend to know why Izzy needs this, but he’s come to accept, with Ed and Izzy’s help, that he doesn’t need to know why. Not yet.
Mysterious as it is, it’s still a beautiful thing to see the walls come down and the ferocity of these two pirates melt away. Ed’s hovering over Izzy, his hair hanging down and forming a curtain around their faces. He’s whispering, quiet reassurances of, “There you go, Izzy boy, that’s it. Let go, I’ve got you, we’ve got you.” He lets Izzy continue to hide his face against his shoulder as he guides the smaller man to roll onto his side. The knotted fabric around Izzy’s wrists is taut and damp with sweat, the skin around it turning red, and Stede hurries forward to untie the knots as gently as he can.
(Always untied, never cut. They’ve learned that standing over Izzy with a sharp object is a bad move, in these moments. The backslide in communication they experienced after that mistake was made nearly put an end to the whole experiment.)
As soon as he’s freed, Izzy rolls onto his back. His chest heaves as he stares up at the ceiling, eyes still streaming. He clenches his teeth, and Stede knows he’s fighting the urge to apologize or perhaps to attack, lash out with words and take the focus off of him. He’s trying so hard, and he’s improved so much, that Stede feels an almost paternal sense of pride and tenderness toward him. Stede has glimpsed things of late that have helped him understand why Ed loves Izzy, but this is the first time he’s felt that he might be growing to love the puzzle that is Blackbeard’s right hand man as well.
Ed, as usual, remains just as tactile after the physical act of love as during. He’s clearly trying to respect Izzy’s need to breathe and to cool off, but he can’t resist keeping a hand on him at least. It rests on Izzy’s chest and rubs slow circles over his heart, rising and falling with the man’s labored breaths. Ed’s eyes are hooded and lovely as ever in the candlelight as he gazes down.
“That was so good, Iz. You did so well for me. For us.”
Soft nonsense, is what Izzy will call it later, but right now he just closes his eyes and lets the words break over him like a wave. His chest hitches and he coughs. Ed looks up, and Stede is already moving, fetching water from the pitcher he knows to keep ready. Ed helps Izzy into a sitting position while Stede fills two cups, then wets a cloth and wrings it out.
“May I?” he asks, after Izzy has drained his cup in two swallows and rode out the subsequent shivering.
Izzy looks between the offered cloth and the sticky mess on his chest. “I can clean myself up,” he says.
“I know,” Stede answers gently. “But may I?”
He pushes no farther, just waits while Izzy thinks it over. At last he nods and passes his empty cup to Ed.
Stede doesn’t start with the obvious mess but rather with Izzy’s face, dabbing at his cheeks and brow and smoothing back the sweaty strands of hair that are hanging in his eyes. Said eyes flutter closed, a tiny gesture of surrender that nonetheless feels momentous, given how careful Stede needs to be with how he touches Izzy. His head tilts back, and Stede swears he hears something akin to a purr vibrate through the man’s throat as the cloth works its way down.
“Ed’s right, you know,” he offers, scrubbing at Izzy’s chest with the same circular motions Ed was using earlier. “You did beautifully. Both of you.”
Izzy cracks an eyes open, and Stede guesses he’s about to say something sarcastic about being so glad to have met his approval. But Izzy just whispers, “Thank you,” and melts farther back against the sheets. He stays quiet as Stede continues to clean him up, and his relaxed state spreads to Ed as well, who’s been watching the whole interaction play out with interest, albeit a sleepy sort. Soon the two men are once again laid out next to each other, Ed sprawled half next to Izzy, half on top of him, with his face firmly burrowed into the spot between his first mate’s neck and shoulder.
Stede rises and takes a moment to just look at these two exquisite creatures. It nearly breaks his heart, how innocent they look like this. He knows it’s an illusion, that neither of these men are innocent, but that only makes him more determined to protect them, and to protect this fragile trust they’ve built. They’ve been hurt so many times, by their pasts, by the world, by each other. They’ve earned these soft moments, and Izzy seems to slowly be accepting that.
His dark eyes open when Stede leans over to draw a sheet over him and Ed. He blinks and seems to make some effort to stir to movement, but with Ed’s arm slung across his chest and his leg across his knees, he doesn’t get very far.
“Where you going?”
“Up,” Stede says. “To read to the crew.” He picks up the slightly distressed copy Grimm’s Fairy Tales that he found at the last port and winks.
Izzy’s drowsy contentment drains away in a breath. “It’s that fucking late? God, I’d better check our course before we end up in the fucking South Pole…”
He’s struggling, trying to untangle himself from the sheets and Ed. Stede puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it,” he insists. “Olu’s got the helm. You’ve been ordered to enjoy your night off, remember?”
“Yeah, I’ll enjoy the shit out of the ship crashing and sending us all to a watery grave. Just let me-“
“Israel.” Stede makes sure Izzy is looking him in the eye, and lets his gaze sharpen. “Ed needs you here. Do you understand?”
At that, Izzy stills his fidgeting. He looks over at Ed, who is still by all appearances asleep, but there’s something notably aggressive about the way he clings to Izzy and snores into his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Izzy says, then nods. “Yes. Captain.”
“Good lad.” Steve leans over and kisses Ed’s temple, then plants one on Izzy’s cheek before the other man can stop him. “Rest well, sweet boys.”
He hears Izzy scoff and mutter something as he leaves the room, and smiles at how comforting he finds the sound of it.
——
Sometimes, the solution to a problem is so obvious that your brain just skips right over it. That’s Ed’s excuse for why it took so long for him to realize that the way to get around Izzy’s insistence that he didn’t need coddling was just to tell him, “Yeah, well I do.”
Izzy prides himself on being able to see to Edward’s needs. If he has to tell himself that these stretches of lying quietly together are for Edward’s benefit, then so be it. And Ed does need this, isn’t sure how he survived without it before.
Ed’s hand is resting on Izzy’s chest, palm over his heartbeat. Get his skin and blood and ribs out of the way, and his heart would be cupped in Edward’s hand, beating its stubborn tattoo against Ed’s fingers. A mental image that seems both monstrous and tender, which Ed supposes is only apt.
He’ll freak himself out if he lets his thoughts drift in that direction, though.
“Iz? You asleep?”
“Not anymore,” Izzy says, without opening his eyes. A pause, then: “Bonnet’s on deck, reading to the crew. You can go up, if you want. I’m fine here.”
“Nah.” Ed lets his arm grow as heavy as he can make it to discourage Izzy from moving. “Not ready to let go of you yet. And we don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to.”
“Uh-huh. What’s on your mind, boss?” Izzy obviously doesn’t believe Ed’s offer for a second, but he doesn’t sound particularly irritated about it, so Ed feels alright to continue.
“I’m sorry about before,” Ed whispers. “Teasing you about asking for the blindfold off. Shouldn’t’ve done that.”
Izzy shrugs. “Not your fault that Bonnet’s insisted on so many bloody rules. We’re bound to break some of them once in a while.”
“It’s better with the rules, though,” Ed says. “I mean, for me it is. This. This is better, yeah?”
“It is.” Izzy sighs. He’s still looking up at the ceiling, but he’s covered Ed’s hand with his own. “We could’ve stopped before, you know, if you hated it that much. In the old days, I mean.”
Ed lifts his head, startled. “I never said I hated it.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Ed, I know how unhappy you were.” Izzy fingers pluck recklessly at Ed’s knuckles, catching around one of his rings and twisting at the metal. “I thought it was my job to fix that. And yeah, it’s better now that I can admit I never could. But I wish you wouldn’t make me keep saying it.”
“I didn’t- that’s not-“ Ed sputters. “Fucking hell, Izzy, is that what you think?”
Izzy rolls onto his side, and Ed sees that his eyes are hard and angry, without a trace of the tears that were there before. “The hell am I supposed to think? I wasn’t what you wanted. You still have some use for me? Fine. You keep me around because, I dunno, you’re still guilty about cutting my toe off? Alright. I agree that this…thing we’re doing works. Bonnet keeps you and me from killing each other, and I keep the two of you from letting the whole ship go to hell. So we’re good. This works. But I can’t take it if you keep…rubbing my nose in how bad it was before.”
As usual following a long speech from Izzy, Ed’s mind is suddenly reeling from a tidal wave of information he was completely unaware of mere seconds ago. It’s hard not to give in to rage when that happens. Ed despises feeling stupid, even more so when it comes to things that he thought he had figured out. And in the old days, Izzy would have caught the brunt of that rage, absorbed it one bruise at a time until it was safely drained away, unable to cause damage to anything important.
No. Fuck that. Ed doesn’t do that anymore. He grinds his teeth and tries to think of something useful to say, something that isn’t likely to start another argument.
Empty reassurances don’t do much for Izzy, never have. Maybe changing tactics would be better.
“D’you remember our first trip around the Horn?” Ed asks, soft and secretive.
It would be hard to forget a thing like that. Everyone aboard that ill-fated vessel almost died. Edward wasn’t captain yet, just the navigator serving under an up-jumped, drunken idiot who thought that a single summer drifting around the Caribbean meant he was ready to tackle one of the most notoriously dangerous sailing routes in the world. They’d sailed too far south and ended up caught in storm after storm, bitter cold the likes of which much of the crew had never felt before, sleet slicking the deck until every step threatened to send them tumbling into the frigid seas below.
“I remember,” Izzy says. “You told me you thought you’d learned enough to captain a ship of your own. If you had the right man to back you up.”
The way he says it, you’d never know that the conversation took place when they were in each other’s arms, huddled for warmth against the frigid darkness of the hold. Two shivering boys trying to survive another miserable night of a miserable existence.
It’s weird, but some nights, when Ed can’t sleep, he imagines himself back in that freezing hell. Maybe because it’s made every bed since then feel all the softer.
“That was the first time I thought about kissing you,” Ed confesses. “Right there in that stinking hold, when we were both shivering so hard we couldn’t even talk. Just popped into my head right then.”
Izzy laughs. “Of course it did. You were already a fucking lunatic by then.”
“Oh, fuck you. That’s not what I meant. I’m trying to say I wanted, y’know, this. With you. It’s not cause of Stede, and it’s not cause our old thing didn’t work. I mean, it didn’t, but that’s not why. This isn’t a bloody, what’d’you call it, consolation prize? I want you here because I want you here. That’s all.”
Ed waits, wondering if he’s pushed too far. There’s only so much feelings talk Izzy can tolerate before he clams up, pulls back, disappears into his own head for a while. It’s been that way since they started this new thing. Two steps forward, one step back.
Izzy throws Ed’s arm off of him and Ed resigns himself to falling asleep alone, but then Izzy rolls on top of him, knocking the breath out of his body with a soft whoof.
“Fuck, Iz, I’m sorry, you don’t have to get all violent about i-“
His words are cut off with a bruising kiss. Izzy’s all over him, practically clawing at Ed’s chest and shoulders. Ed grabs his hips in an attempt to still him, to calm him down, and gets a vicious bite on his lower lip for his trouble.
“Do you-“ Izzy growls between kisses. “Have any fucking- idea- how many times- I pulled myself off thinking about that night?”
Ed throws his head back in a breathless laugh. “I thought for years you never did that at all, you were so bloody secretive.”
“Shut up.” Izzy’s teeth are on Ed’s neck, scraping against his jawline. “Just- please shut up, Ed, just this once. I want…”
Ed grips Izzy’s chin in his hand and pulls him back none too gently, but he smiles as he does it. “What do you want? Tell me, and I’ll shut up.”
With nowhere to hide, Izzy’s eyes flicker back and forth from Ed’s lips to his eyes. “Do what you wanted to do then. Show…show me how it could have been. Please.” He lets out a ragged breath, then bares his teeth in a challenging snarl. “Or is that against the rules?”
Ed answers with a grin just as sharklike as the one he’s looking at. “Might be. Good thing we’re fuckin’ pirates, yeah?”
Izzy falls on him again, and Ed lets the onslaught of lips and teeth crash over him. Their naked skin rubbing together is hot, almost feverish, and Ed remembers how tightly he curled around Izzy’s body in the freezing dark. He plunges his fingers into Izzy’s hair, teasing and tugging at the roots. Izzy had kept it cropped back then, ever since the day one of their mates had given his sleek black horsetail a tug and called him Isabella. Ed would never have dared to pull Izzy’s hair back then, but he does now, savoring the soft groan that his lips can feel beneath the skin of Izzy’s throat.
“Mine,” Ed whispers, unable to keep his promise to shut up when the words want out so bad. “My Izzy.”
He says it like he would have said it then, like it’s a promise. Like the words are an incantation that will keep Izzy safe and whole and strong in Ed’s arms, like the light in his eyes will never fade, like the silence between them will never hurt.
Ed gets so lost in it that he doesn’t even realize he’s gotten hard again until he feels Izzy wrap a slick hand around him. He opens his eyes to see Izzy straddling him, shifting his hips up. There’s no way he isn’t sore after the fucking he took earlier, but he doesn’t even flinch as he sinks down onto Ed’s cock. Ed arches his back as he’s suddenly enveloped in tight, overwhelming heat.
“You- fucking- showoff,” he pants.
Izzy laughs, and it’s a soft, carefree laugh of the kind Edward hasn’t heard in years. Then his eyes falls shut as he begins to ride Ed slowly, hands braced on Ed’s tattooed chest. He looks wrecked, raw and ecstatic like this, and Ed wonders if anyone has seen Izzy look this way before. It’s not a jealous thought. He wants there to have been someone. He wishes, almost desperately, that there was someone in Izzy’s past who could give him the pleasure he needed so badly.
Izzy’s shoulders buckle and his head bows low over Ed’s chest, but Ed doesn’t let him collapse. He pushes himself up until he’s sitting with Izzy in his lap, their foreheads pressed together.
“’S’alright,” Ed says. “I got you. I won’t let you go.”
Their lips collide and Ed tastes blood. Izzy’s always fucked like he’s starving for it, but this is another level. He’s kissing Ed like he’s trying to suck all the guilt and pain out of the depths of his heart, and Ed doesn’t blame him, because he wishes he could do the same thing.
“Mine,” he growls, as if he really means it, as if he can really protect Izzy from what lies in his future. Past. Whatever. Ed doesn’t remember. He’s seventeen, he’s forty-two, he’s ninety-seven, whenever he is he can’t save Israel Hands. But he can hold him for a little while, and make sure he knows that Ed-
“Love you.” The words slip out of Ed’s mouth, treacherous little things. “Love you, Izzy.”
And for the second time that night, Izzy comes with tears streaming down his face.
——
A suspiciously polite amount of time later, the door creaks open, signaling Stede’s return.
This time, Izzy is truly fast asleep, curled up in Ed’s arms as if he’s freezing, although their recent activities must have made the air in the cabin pretty damn sultry.
“Well, someone certainly looks tuckered out,” Stede teases. He takes the chair next to the bed and reaches out toward Ed. Their fingers lace together and squeeze before separating again.
“Yeah,” Ed agrees, his voice sleepy and sated. “Think we had what you’d call a breakthrough. Not sure he’ll want to talk about it, though.”
“When he’s ready,” Stede says. “There’s no hurry. And you, my love?”
Ed snuggles deeper into the mattress. “I’m good. I mean, fucking exhausted, but y’know. Good.”
Steve laughs and leans over to give Ed a kiss. “Would you like to hear the story you missed?” He holds up the book of fairy tales, turning it this way and that temptingly.
“Reckon I would, yeah.” Ed settles his head on the pillow, his nose brushing against Izzy’s hair. “Long as it has a happy ending.”
“This one does,” Stede says. “Promise.”
He leafs back through the pages to the beginning of the story. As he reads, he glances up over the pages from time to time. Ed’s eyes are big and soft in the candlelight, watching Stede with something that looks like yearning. Izzy doesn’t move or make a sound, not even when Stede gets a little too excited during the villain’s monologue. There is one point, though, near the end, that Stede swears he catches him smiling.