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Izzy hates Stede Bonnet. It’s something he’s known since the day he met the man. He fucking despises him, loathes him— any word that falls under the category, that’s how he feels about Stede fucking Bonnet.
“Come on, Izzy,” Stede says, tone as light as the hold he has on Izzy’s cock, “tell me a secret, any secret.”
Izzy grits his teeth, grips the sheets above his head even tighter. He wants to move, he wants to lift his hand to Stede’s hair and yank it until the man gives him what he wants, or simply take himself in hand and give himself what he wants, but this doesn't work like that. Stede forwent the rope today just to make sure Izzy remembers that this doesn’t work like that.
He isn’t physically tied down to the bed, his wrists aren’t roped together and his legs aren’t being held open. He’s bound down by nothing more than Stede’s words, Stede’s be a good boy, and stay still, and Izzy listened.
He’s hardly even twitched out of place in the last half hour, he’s been nothing but the picture of discipline, and yet Stede still won’t let him fucking come.
“Izzy,” Stede sighs, “this could be over a lot quicker if you’d tell me what I want to know.”
“I have no secrets,” Izzy spits.
“Aw,” Stede tuts, “you don’t expect me to believe that, do you? I mean, look at how long were you able to keep your love for Ed hidden.”
Son of a fucking—
“Bitch.”
Stede beams, leaning over him, leaning in too close to whisper, “what else are you hiding, Israel?”
Izzy shivers, head tilting back just so, and Stede notices, because of course he does.
He knows the effect that has on Izzy. It only encourages him, has the fucker lowering his head until his lips meet Izzy’s Adam’s apple. Stede kisses the spot, and then trails kisses up the expanse of Izzy’s neck, to Izzy’s chin, and below his lips, and then he stops. He stops, and he lifts his head slightly and hovers there.
Their lips are so close that Izzy wouldn’t have to do much to connect them. Stede’s testing Izzy as much as he’s teasing him, the smirk on his face says as much. Well, fuck him, Izzy refuses to budge.
“Israel,” Stede sing-songs, breath ghosting over Izzy’s lips, tempting him. Stede drags a hand down his chest and stomach until it makes contact with Izzy’s cock again. “You want to come, don’t you? Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else, and I’ll let you.”
Stede’s hand works his cock slowly, lazily stroking up and down the length, pinching the tip between his fingers every few strokes just to hear Izzy hiss.
It’s much like his thrusts when he fucks— steady and unhurried, but sharp and nearly punishing. It drives Izzy insane. The way Stede’s hand is speeding up around his cock drives him insane, too.
Izzy hates this. He hates how much he needs it, hates himself for wanting it.
“Whatever you won’t tell me can’t be any more humiliating than all the other things I know about you.”
Izzy glares, eyes narrowing into slits. “Fuck you, Bonnet.”
Stede moves away, sitting back on his haunches with a small hm. His hand rests lazily against the base of Izzy’s cock, now, putting pressure on his testicles, but not actually doing anything at all.
“There’s an idea,” says Stede, “perhaps I should sit on your cock, ride you until you give me the answers I want. I do think that would be more effective than this.”
Izzy doesn’t whimper, but it’s a near thing. Just the thought of Stede sinking down on him makes him dizzy.
He’d be so good. He’d lay here all night, into the morning, and let Stede take as much pleasure as he wanted, and he’d be so patient even if it killed him because Stede would be having a good time, and that’s what would matter most, and he just needs—
Izzy whimpers.
Stede grins. “Maybe later.”
Izzy wants to kick him, and just as he’s beginning to weigh the possible outcomes, Stede wraps a hand around him again, but this time, with purpose.
Izzy’s back bows off the bed as Stede starts up a steady rhythm, twisting his hand and tightening it every time he goes up and moves down.
“Do you secretly enjoy tea? Is that it?” Stede questions. “Are you tired of forcing yourself to down black coffee every morning just to keep up this whole facade of yours?”
Izzy does prefer tea to coffee, and he always has, but he’d never in his life admit that aloud. Especially not to Stede fucking Bonnet.
“Are you the one who’s been stealing all the sweets while everyone else is asleep?” He and Buttons, actually, it’s become part of their nightly routine. “Roach is becoming increasingly irritated by the disappearing pastries, by the way.”
Izzy schools his expression into something that doesn’t give away the fact that he’s mildly pleased by that.
Stede hums.
“No, it has to be something bigger than that.” Stede looks out into the room, bottom lip puckered as he taps an index finger to his chin. When he looks back at Izzy, there’s a gleam in his eyes that the pirate doesn’t quite like. “Do you secretly enjoy wearing dresses?”
Izzy doesn’t know what face he gives, but whatever it is must be enough to confirm that that is not the secret. It makes Stede laugh, which makes Izzy feel like his heart is ready to leap from his chest.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, dear. I happen to think you’d look lovely in a dress,” he says, “maybe something in blue, I think that might look best on you. It would be silk since I know how much you love the feeling of these sheets.”
Stede starts rubbing at the spot beneath Izzy’s balls, and above his hole as he says this, and Izzy’s hips lift off the bed slightly, pushing into the touch.
“Maybe it would have a matching corset, hm? One shade darker than the dress itself,” Stede tells him, “God, you’d look absolutely delectable. We’d get you all dressed up, Ed and I. We’d touch you from head to toe, pulling the dress up over your body, stockings up your legs, tightening the corset around your waist. We’d make you all pretty just so we could take you apart.” Izzy doesn’t mean to moan, but he does, and it has his cheeks heating up in mortification. Stede grins. “Yeah, you like the thought of that, don’t you? You like the thought of us flipping your pretty dress up and over your arse, taking turns eating you out before we take turns fucking you?”
He feels something cool drizzle over his penis and quickly realizes that Stede’s added more oil. How the blonde managed to do so without looking away is something Izzy won’t even bother to question.
“Oh, God,” he gasps. Stede is trying to kill him, and Izzy wouldn’t put it past him to succeed in doing so with just his words.
Stede’s hand moves back to his cock, stroking fast, much, much faster than before— the rhythm is closer to Ed’s preferred way of fucking, now, which also drives Izzy insane. The sound of his hand sliding along Izzy’s shaft is nearly deafening, the squelching of it so fucking filthy that it riles him on.
“You’re so gorgeous,” Stede says, “it’s taking everything in me to not ravish you right this moment.”
“Do it,” Izzy challenges, “fucking do it, Bonnet. Have me any way you want.” I’m yours. “Fuck me,” he repeats brazenly, thrusting shallowly into Stede’s grip, and Stede allows it.
“Oh, I plan to,” he promises, “in due time.” And then, Stede stops, pulling his hand off of Izzy’s cock to lock his hand around the pirate’s balls, effectively staving off the climax that had begun to creep up on him.
Izzy releases a very long, highly enraged groan of despair.
“Fucking sadist,” he hisses.
Stede quirks a brow. “I thought you liked that about me.”
God, Izzy can’t stress how much he hates this man.
“I suppose that means crossdressing is off the list,” Stede teases, “but perhaps not for long.”
Izzy’s cock twitches.
“Hm, what could it be? A family secret? A kink we haven’t been made aware of yet? Though I’m highly doubtful about that one.” Izzy rolls his eyes. “A betrayal the crew isn’t aware of? An embarrassing tale from your youth? A drunken mistake?” Stede lists, “don’t tell me you’re one of those people who’s fucked someone they wish they hadn’t. I know that’s a popular one, so tell me, Israel, any past bed partners you’re ashamed of?”
Quite a few.
“Is it someone I know? Have you slept with someone in the crew other than myself and Ed?”
Lucius and Black Pete, a few months ago, and maybe he was drunk, but it wasn’t a mistake, and he isn’t ashamed of it. Still, the three of them promised to take it to their graves due to Lucius’ fear of possibly being thrown overboard again.
“Or, at least someone associated with the crew?” He questions. “Maybe Spanish Jackie? Maybe Jack?” Stede says it mockingly, but that doesn’t subdue Izzy’s panic.
This gives the blonde pause.
No.
“Israel…”
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
“You didn’t…”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Oh my god, you did.”
Izzy has never wanted to die more than he does at this very moment.
“My, oh, my,” Stede whispers curiously, “does Ed know?”
“Of course, Ed doesn't fucking know,” Izzy growls, “and it better stay like that, or I will be cutting off your cock and serving it to the crew for supper.”
Stede rolls his eyes, unimpressed, “you love my cock too much for that.”
Izzy is ready to curse him to hell and back, but Stede wraps a hand around his cock again, and any complaints Izzy had die before they can escape.
His toes curl into the sheets, teeth grinding against one another as he feels that pressure begin to build again. He can’t take it any longer, the teasing and the taunting. He needs to come. He’s getting desperate.
“Please,” Izzy pants, and he hates it. He hates the way the man can always reduce him to begging, but if that’s what it takes. “Please, please, please,” Izzy says again, “please let me come.”
Stede smirks. “While I’m pleased that you’re finally learning manners, no.” And he lets go, again.
Izzy wants to scream, and he would if it would do anything, but it wouldn’t. Stede Bonnet is nothing if not determined.
“As appalling as it is that the two men in my life have canoodled with the likes of Calico Jack, I don’t think that’s your big secret.”
“You’re fucking insufferable,” he says.
“And you’re a slut,” Stede counters right before taking hold of his cock again.
He watches as a wad of spit slips from Stede’s lips and slides down his shaft tauntingly. Izzy’s stomach clenches as Stede begins to move his hand, twisting at the tip just so, just the way Izzy likes it.
He’s so close. He’s so fucking close. Izzy sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes widening as he gazes up at Stede who’s looking right back at him. Stede says nothing, he simply watches. It must be clear to him that Izzy’s close, it must be, and yet he’s not stopping.
Izzy lets himself believe, only for a moment, that Stede may let him come this time.
It’s foolish, of course, because Stede just said he won’t be letting Izzy off that easily but he’s never been this turned on in his life, and it’s making him stupid, and now he’s gasping Stede, Stede, Stede and— the contact is gone.
“No!” He shouts, and he’s crying, droplets pouring from his eyes like they’ve been waiting all night for release.
Stede runs the back of his palm along Izzy’s cheek, and Izzy can’t decide if he wants to yank away from it or lean into it. He does neither. Instead, he looks at Stede, and Stede looks at him, and the man seems almost remorseful. He may be, Izzy thinks, but that won’t change a thing.
That realization forces an ugly sob from deep within his chest, and Stede’s frown deepens, and God, he’s so fucking pathetic. He’s a pirate, for crying out loud, he’s suffered fates far worse than this, and yet here he lays, crying like a fucking widow because his lover won’t let him come. Pathetic.
He has no right to cry, he realizes. It’s not like he deserves to come. He’s lying here in tears over Stede not giving him what he wants when he’s done nothing to earn it. He’s acting like he’s entitled to Stede’s time when he isn’t. Pathetic.
Izzy’s been nothing but a complete pain in the arse since he met the man. And sure, that’s changed a bit recently given the nature of their newfound relationship but he’s still an arse. Sometimes on purpose, because he’s pathetic.
Being an arse is what got him into the very position he’s in right now— he was mouthing off, and disobeying direct orders, playing the “you’re not my captain,” card again for no reason other than sheer jealousy at the fact that Ed and Stede were so enraptured in one another earlier. He decided to be an arse, on purpose, because he’s fucking pathetic.
Izzy had known he was in the wrong, he hadn’t been in their presence since the three of them woke up this morning because he’d been too busy readying the crew to raid a ship not too far ahead. Still, reason did nothing to tame the simmering rage within him when he walked in on Stede hand-feeding Ed a piece of cake.
Izzy can’t pinpoint exactly what did it for him— maybe it was being reminded of how well they fit together without him, maybe it was the fact that the scene took him back to a time when he wasn’t welcomed in on these sacred moments, but whatever it is made him feel as nauseous as the sea. They had both turned to him with warm smiles, and instead of taking it for what it was, instead of accepting the blatant message of Izzy, we’re happy to see you, he lashed out. Absolutely fucking pathetic.
He was being spiteful simply because he wanted them to feel the way he felt at that moment. It worked, unsurprisingly, because if there’s one thing Izzy Hands has always been good at, it’s pissing people the fuck off.
Ed’s eyes had grown cold, and Stede’s lips thinned, clearly displeased. Good, he had thought to himself. He expected Ed to bend him over the table and spank him into submission, but Stede placed a hand over Ed’s with a hushed I’ll handle this.
Stede kept his promise, as any gentleman would. This is him handling it, and it’s effective. God, is it effective.
Izzy wishes he hadn’t been such an arse earlier. He’d say sorry, but it’s pointless. He’s as deserving of Stede’s forgiveness as he is of the man’s time.
Stede could leave him here, frustrated and yearning. Stede should leave him here, it’s what he deserves for being so fucking bitter and so fucking needy and so fucking pathetic.
Another sob is coerced from his lips, and Stede’s eyes soften, and Izzy doesn’t fucking deserve that. He doesn’t deserve to be looked at with such openness and care. He doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve any of it.
“Izzy?” Stede says softly, “what are you talking about? What do you not deserve?”
And, oh— he’s said it out loud, huh.
“You,” he croaks out without meaning to. That happens a lot in Stede’s presence, Izzy always finds himself revealing more than he’s willing to. He hates it, but it… feels good.
The thoughts make him sick, and they frighten him, and they sadden him, and he holds onto them for so long that he feels like he’s drowning in them, and whenever he finds that relief, whenever Stede gives him that relief… It feels good.
Stede’s looking at him in that way again, in that way that makes Izzy feel like his layers are being stripped from him one by one. He’s been naked this entire time, but this is the first time this evening that he’s actually felt it. Pirates aren’t meant to be like this— bare, vulnerable.
Izzy Hands is a pirate, it’s all he’s ever known and it’s all he’s ever been good at, and that means he shouldn’t let himself be so fucking vulnerable, yet… he can’t help but be anything other than when he’s with Stede.
“I don’t deserve either of you,” he says, and another layer is peeled, this one heavier than the rest. “I’ve never been good enough for Ed.”
Stede frowns, parting his lips as though he means to object. Izzy doesn’t give him the chance.
“I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, but I always did the wrong thing and I continue to do the wrong fucking thing. And you, you’re just… how could you want me after everything? I can understand Ed. We have history. No matter how badly I’ve screwed up everything good in his life, he feels some sick sense of loyalty to me and it makes me sick because I don’t fucking deserve it, but you— we don’t have that. I’ve been nothing but nasty to you since we first met, and I—”
“That’s not true,” Stede says, his voice barely there, and it shatters Izzy’s heart.
“Isn’t it?” He counters as tears continue to warm his cheeks. “I’ve made you miserable, Stede. I’ve made you both miserable.”
“You’ve changed.” There’s a force behind the word like Stede thinks if he says it with enough determination Izzy will simply… believe it. He knows better than that, they both do.
“No, I haven’t!” Izzy shouts, “I haven’t fucking changed. I’m still the same prick you met back in those woods, today has been enough proof of that. Even now, after… I finally have these fucking things that I’ve wanted all my life without even knowing I wanted them—”
And that’s only partially true. Izzy’s always known he wanted to experience the tenderness and affection he’s come to know, but he never let himself dwell on things he knew he’d never be allowed to have, not until, “you and Ed. The both of you have given me—” everything I’ve ever wanted and more, “all of this, and I—,” never want to let go because I’ve been starving all my life, and now I’m insatiable, “I’m tossing it all away—”
“Iz—” He registers Stede’s hand cupping the side of his neck in an attempt to ground him. Stede doesn’t seem to notice that this is him grounded. Izzy, slightly frantic and completely unfiltered— this is what it’s like for him.
“I keep pushing,” he goes on. “No matter what the situation is, I push, and I push,” because it’s all I’ve ever known how to do, “and I know eventually Ed will snap, and your patience will run out, and you two will leave.” You should’ve left already. You should’ve never let me in, to begin with.
“You’d be better off without me,” Izzy whispers, and Stede’s hold on him tightens, and it says that’s not true, that could never be true, but it is. “And I feel like all of us, the three of us and the crew, we all know it and we just… ignore that.”
It’s something he’s reminded himself of every day, just so he never goes too far when he… gets the way he does. They want me, he tells himself, but they don’t need me. I need them, but they’ll be fine without me.
“And we all walk around this ship like it isn’t glaringly obvious when it is.”
“Darling, that’s not true, you have to know that’s not true.”
Izzy whimpers as he turns his head away from Stede’s touch, mourning the contact the moment that it’s gone, but refusing to lean back into it.
I don’t deserve it, he reminds himself.
“I’m so scared,” he says, over and over again, “I’m so scared.” He’s choking on the words tumbling from his lips. He can’t stop crying, he won’t stop shaking, he can’t get a fucking grip.
“I’m so scared of losing you guys that I’m driving you away so it won’t hurt as much when you eventually leave.”
And that’s the worst part of it all, isn’t it? Sabotaging the best thing that’s ever happened to him while refusing to face the fact that that is exactly what he’s doing, and that some of it may be intentional.
“Love,” Stede calls as he takes one of his hands, and Izzy flinches.
No. This tenderness, I haven’t earned it.
“No,” he whimpers.
“Izzy.”
I haven’t earned it, but now I can’t live without it.
“I can’t,” he cries without even understanding what he’s saying.
“You can,” Stede tells him as if he does understand what Izzy’s saying.
“I’m scared all the time,” he repeats, voice practically lost, “I’m so fucking scared, Stede, and I’m scared of all the wrong things, and I—”
“Izzy, I’m here.” And he knows that, his senses are completely and utterly overwhelmed by Stede’s presence but he shouldn’t get to have this but it’s all he wants, and he can never go back, and if he loses this he may lose his mind and— and… He’s ruined.
They’ve ruined him, and he’ll return the favor, eventually.
“I’ll ruin it,” he tells Stede, “I’ll ruin us, I know I will. I’ll—”
“Israel.” Izzy blinks up at him as Stede wraps a hand around him again, strokes once, twice, and then, “come.”
Gravity ceases to exist as Izzy’s eyes fall shut, and there’s no darkness there. Izzy’s tried to find a moment of quiet all his life, and every time, he’s failed. Now, it comes to him as if it belongs, as if this is how it should always be.
His mind simply… empties. Awareness is at a distance, the only thing connecting him to any sense of reality is the hand he feels on his chest. It’s odd. He can’t feel anything else, he can’t feel his limbs or any other part of his body. He can’t feel anything but that single point of contact.
And when he does feel again, it’s… tingly, from head to toe, like when his foot falls asleep, except… pleasant.
This feels like a revelation, like he’s found a religion greater than any known to man, and he’s on his way to meet his maker. He lets it surround him. He accepts it and accepts when it begins to fade, when his body lowers back to the bed, and he can feel the silk against his skin, and he can smell the scent of his lovers mixed in with his own.
He accepts it wholly, not afraid to lose this the way he’s afraid to lose the other good things in his life. Something tells him he’ll find this again, or perhaps it’ll find him.
He hears humming as fingers gently card through his hair, and Izzy’s eyes flutter open, vision fuzzy at the corners. He’s panting, and he’s sweaty, and it’s like slight electrical shocks are coursing through him, but he feels… phenomenal.
“There you are, my love,” Izzy hears.
Stede, his mind supplies as he takes in the ringed fingers dancing along his skin. Stede’s practically wrapped around him now and he leans into the touch easily. It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done.
“You’re wonderful,” Stede whispers, lips still pressed to his temple.
It isn’t true, of course. Izzy’s done far too much harm to be as wonderful as Stede claims, but for now, he doesn’t argue. For now, he lets himself sink further into Stede’s embrace, and lets the man’s words wash over him.
“Wonderful,” Stede says softly.
Izzy loves Stede Bonnet. He loves Stede differently than he loves Ed, but he loves the man with everything in him, the same as he does with Ed.
He may not deserve to feel this way, and he may never deserve to have those feelings reciprocated, but they’ll exist all the same. Neither of the men in his life will let them fade.
Izzy is in love with Stede Bonnet. It isn’t something he knew from the start, but he knows it now.