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Ed was doing something trivial, pretending to measure out the rope for re-rigging the sails or something like that, when Stede had wordlessly bent him over until he could brace himself on the wall, yanked his pants down, grabbed him by the hips, and spread open his cunt. Ed let out the most beautiful little gasp at that. They were below deck, and no one was on the ship but them, and Stede wanted to undo his breeches and pull Ed right onto his cock. But he wanted to wait. Take his time.
They’d been planning this for a while and the real thing was better than anything Stede could’ve imagined. Their experiments, so far, had been confined to the captain’s quarters. Stede, book in one hand, the other between Ed’s legs, absently toying with him. Dragging Ed onto his lap, where he was hard and waiting, and not making any move to bring him off.
Ed, as it turns out, enjoyed when Stede did what he liked with him. Enjoyed Stede treating him like one of his beautiful things: his fine china, his satins and silks. Stede would happily take Ed over every first-edition book in his library, of course, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t fun for him to fuck Ed like that. Like a prized possession, existing only as a frivolous, expensive, precious thing to be admired, to be pleasing to others, to be pleasing to Stede. A status symbol.
But Ed wanted more. They both did, really. The bedroom was — well, it was a bedroom, and they never really could forget it. Ed wanted to go about business as usual, with the caveat that Stede could, at any time, take what he wanted from him.
So the next time Buttons had spotted land, they’d headed straight for it and told the crew to take the day off. Ed and Stede didn’t even bother disembarking. They’d woken up, Stede rousing Ed by tracing his cock along Ed’s cunt, and Ed had looked gorgeous like that, his hair fanning along the pillows as Stede hitched one of Ed’s legs up and fucked into him. After that, they got dressed and made sure everyone was on the beach enjoying themselves, and had a late breakfast by themselves in the dining room, Ed kneeling under the table at Stede’s feet while Stede drank his morning tea and occasionally handed down to him a bite of biscuit with jam, head resting on the inside of Stede’s thigh.
Stede wanted him on the deck, though, so that afternoon he’d had him there — wasn’t quite ready to go again, so he just had Ed hold his soft cock in his mouth while he leaned his notebook on a barrel and charted out the spoils of how their last raid would be divvied up. He’d usually have done this in his study, but as he’d said to no one in particular (Ed was there to hear it, of course, but Ed didn’t want to be talked to, he wanted to be talked about, so all of Stede’s remarks had to be asides, which admittedly felt pretty unnatural), it was a lovely day, too lovely to be holed up in his quarters.
It was later now, creeping steadily into evening, and the sun was starting to sink down below the wavering sea. It was darkening below deck, the red light filtering in through the portholes. Stede had been watching Ed up until this point, waiting until he seemed desperate enough. The insides of Ed’s thighs were slick when Stede ran his fingers between them, and when Stede thumbed him open and held him like that, some of Stede’s cum from that morning leaked out. Stede wanted to fuck it back into him.
“Awfully wet down here,” Stede said, to no one but himself. Ed generally liked it when he talked, and Stede liked to talk, which worked out very well; Ed being an object for Stede to use was no exception. Stede was careful with his words when they did this — thought of the plays he’d read, your Hamlets, your Doctor Faustuses, and their soliloquies. Ed was both audience and actor here. Or, to be more precise, audience and exquisitely crafted setpiece.
Stede gathered some of their combined spend with his fingers and moved up until he was prodding lightly at Ed’s asshole. Ed whined, a high, heady sound in the back of his throat.
“I wonder,” Stede mused, “if I could fit myself in just with what I’ve got on my fingers. If I would even need any oil. Could probably just slip right inside.”
“Can’t know unless you try,” Ed replied. “So why don’t you?” One arm was bracing him against the wall, the other under his shirt, pulling it up to his chest, revealing more of his back, the lean lines of his torso. Further up his body, towards his shoulders, still hidden, were the bites that Stede had left on him that morning. Stede would have Ed show him those again in time — surely they’d bloomed now into the most gorgeous bruises.
“Hm? I could’ve sworn I heard someone talking,” Stede said. “But there’s no one down here but me and my toy. And he never tells me what to do.”
Ed made a soft sound, a low “nngh” in the back of his throat at the word toy. An ornamental little trinket, a delight for the eyes, and Ed provided that in spades: his hair was spun silk for Stede to run his fingers through and grab and tug, the slickness of his cunt musky and intoxicating like fine perfume, and he belonged to Stede, and he was Stede’s to play with. It was thrilling. Stede’s cock twitched in his pants, and he finally reached down to palm at it, breathing hard.
“No,” Stede said, “my little toy would never give me lip, would he? He knows that he’s only meant to sit there and let me take what I want from him.”
This made Ed draw in a quiet, shaking breath. Stede decided it was too much work to work himself inside Ed that way without oil, so he noted that next time he could bring some in a small vial with him and went back to preparing Ed’s cunt. He worked Ed’s pants down further, and tapped Ed’s ankle with his foot to get him to remove his right boot and strip off the right leg of his leather pants. He used Ed’s new freedom of movement to nudge his thighs apart.
“Looks so perfect, completely exposed like this,” Stede said. “I could show him off and he’d be the talk of the town. Quite the conversation piece.”
Stede cupped Ed’s cunt from the back, and he finally dipped his middle and ring fingers inside. He took his other hand from his groin and brushed Ed’s hair to the side, exposing his neck, just the right size for Stede’s grip. Like Ed was made for Stede. Stede plunged his fingers deeper into Ed, adding a third, and Ed made a soft moan, sweet and breathy, like dovesong, like waves at the shore.
Between Ed’s legs Stede could feel that he was open and ready, as wet as he’d ever be. He took his fingers out and undid his pants and took himself out. But Stede still teased Ed, gathering enough of that wetness on the head of his cock to slip it in just slightly. Ed shuddered with the intrusion, and Stede laid a hand on the small of his back as he slid more of himself inside, rubbing his thumb in circles as if to soothe him.
“Something so lovely requires a delicate touch,” Stede said. “I don’t want to rush. I take good care of my things, after all. Can’t admire my toys if I break them.”
Stede’s hips finally met Ed’s ass, warm skin against warm skin, their bodies sticking to each other with the sweat, and he drew out as unbearingly slow as he entered. His hands moved to Ed’s hips, to hold him steady, so that Ed couldn’t grind back on him. So Stede could just keep him still and use him.
He found a rhythm after a few thrusts. Ed was loose and wet and when Stede pushed Ed further down and leaned back, giving himself a better view of his cock going in and out, he wasn’t sure if the substance gathering at the rim of Ed’s hole was his cum from that morning or the precum that he was currently leaking. He was just as much Ed’s as Ed was his, really, and the clench of Ed around him was fucking divine. The evening air was hot below deck, it had a weight to it, it had a salt to it, pressing, making Stede’s head buzz; he was fast approaching orgasm, his sweating hands on Ed’s hips, Ed’s cunt like a vise, Ed’s mouth making the most beautiful sounds as Stede drove into him.
“Boss? You in there? I was wondering —” came a reedy voice and Izzy Hands was rounding the corner just as Stede thrusted deep into Ed. Izzy’s eyes alighted on Ed, noticing him and stopping short. Ed and Stede looked over at the same moment.
“Oh,” Stede said, breaths labored. His throat and his chest hurt as if he’d been running. Like he was on fire.
“Oh,” Izzy said back.
And at that moment, Ed tightened around Stede, and Stede came inside him for the second time that day.
It couldn’t have been that bad, could it? Stede swore to Ed up and down that it was only for a second that Izzy had seen them, but from the way he was avoiding Ed it was as if he’d been standing there watching the entire fucking time. And it wasn’t as if Izzy had never caught Ed in flagrante. Sure, never anything that involved Ed being bent over and fucked, but Izzy had seen his fair share of Ed’s fumbles with Jack, the two of them giggling like teenagers with their hands down the backs of each other’s pants.
Stede was a lot more discreet. It was only natural, Ed supposed, for someone raised on that particular type of shame and that particular degree of luxury to only conduct those activities behind a closed pair of carved mahogany doors. Exchanging furtive handjobs in Jack’s bunk, this was not: Stede liked having Ed in his fancy bed, on his fancy couch, bent over his fancy desk, and Ed was happy to be had in all those places.
Stede liked to make it slow and agonizing, spreading Ed out before him and fingering him open until he was begging for it. He liked to take his time, and he preferred not to be interrupted or distracted, and while Ed tolerated the invasions of privacy that came with the territory of life on a ship, Stede needed those remnants from his old life. Ed was surprised when Stede was open to fucking him outside the bedroom, anywhere he wanted on the ship, because of exactly that.
They both liked the angle of it, had experimented with it. Hell, Ed had done it before Stede, often out of necessity. He’d been passed around before, treated like a thing instead of a person, a tool for getting someone else off, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t at least a little hot. But the way Stede approached it was so… different. He still used Ed to get him off, and that was the point of it, that that was Ed’s only purpose. But that was what made Ed special, made Ed valuable, and it meant that he didn’t have to think about the pressures of leading his crew, of being Blackbeard, at least for a while. Stede would tell him that he was nothing more than a hole to fuck with this strange reverence in his voice, and it was confusing and new and exciting. Ed had never felt that way before. He’d never been seen that way before.
And the day had started out great. Amazing, really. Ed’d had Stede in his cunt and his mouth all before dinner. He’d spent the whole day doing “work” — nothing that required real thought, stuff he knew he’d end up redoing later. He’d been on-edge waiting for Stede to approach him and remind him what he was meant for. And God, when he finally did that evening, it’d been incredible.
But Izzy just had to ask him a question, didn’t he? Right at that very moment. For some fucking reason.
Izzy was not a factor either of them could have predicted. It could’ve been anyone, of course, but it fucking had to be Izzy. Ed remembered his face vividly even now, a week after it’d happened: mouth slightly agape as he’d trailed off what he was saying, eyebrows raised, something unreadable (disgust? Anger?) in his eyes. He’d scurried out of there like a rat, all silent, all red in the face.
“Oh, Ed,” Stede said, and snapped Ed out of his thoughts. They were back in their cabin; they hadn’t fucked outside of the bed for a few days, and were now just starting to experiment with different locations around the captain’s quarters again. Stede was at his desk, studying navigational charts, and Ed knelt, naked, hands behind his back, underneath. Stede, still fully dressed, cupped Ed’s jaw and stroked Ed’s cheek with his thumb. Ed leaned into it. “You’re getting distracted.”
“No, I’m not,” Ed replied. But Stede was already pushing his chair back and getting up. He returned with his sleeping mask and fitted it over Ed’s eyes. They did this, sometimes, when Ed’s attention drifted — it’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy what they were doing, he’d just. Start thinking about something else, and it’d spiral, and he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. So they started finding ways to direct him back to the present moment, back to Stede. It turned out that cutting off one’s senses was a very good way to do that. Ed closed his eyes behind the mask and relaxed his shoulders.
“There you go. Can’t be a good toy if your pretty little head is full of things that don’t matter,” Stede said. His boot rested on the outside of Ed’s bare thigh, cool against the skin, and Ed waited for Stede to want him. To need him. He felt every shift of the heavy plug inside him, one made of blown glass that Stede had found in some back alley in Nassau and paid out the ass for. No pun intended. Stede’s fingers were inside him earlier to prepare him for it, stretching him and filling him, refusing all the while to touch his cunt. He was aching for Stede. He wasn’t sure if he had the patience for this.
Noises, then — soft ones, with no images for Ed to put to them, but he visualized them easily anyway. The sea. The scrawling of a pen. Stede’s breathing. His own.
“Hm,” Stede said. “So if we’re going eleven knots towards Becouya, and there’s that small island near the coast that we’ll have to navigate around… taking into account the wind resistance…”
He knew this. Stede. Ed taught him this. “Why would you take into account the wind resistance?” Ed asked. “With this weather there won’t be enough wind resistance to even matter.”
“If it takes an hour for us to reach Southeast Bay…” Stede said, as if Ed hadn’t said anything at all, “and the wind is roughly nine knots…” and ended his thought there. His fancy instruments were out, the divider set made of solid brass; Ed could hear them, Stede absently dancing the divider across the surface of the desk, the soft clunk of them as he set it down. Him calculating something, then the raw sound of pen scratching paper, Stede scribbling out whatever he wrote.
“Let me see,” Ed said. “Or if you’re running into a wall, might as well put the divider down and fuck me.”
“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong,” Stede said, and there was a hand at the crown of Ed’s head, combing through his hair. Stede guided Ed’s face towards him, so that Ed’s cheek rested on Stede’s thigh, and his skin was warm through the fabric of his pants. The fabric itself was canvas, rough fabric on the rough half-grown stubble on Ed’s face. Ed wished he could see what Stede’s cock looked like. If it was hard, if he wanted it as badly as Ed did right now. He felt himself clench around the plug.
A knock, then. The hand out of Ed’s hair, the scraping of Stede’s chair, Stede’s voice from up high, standing — “come in!” Stede said. Ed tensed up. Who was here? Could they see him?
His questions were answered just a moment later, when the door whined open and Stede said, “so nice of you to stop by, Israel.”
Izzy wasn’t fucking stupid, for the record. He knew it was strange for Bonnet to invite him to the captain’s quarters out of the blue, especially a week after he’d accidentally walked in on —
Well. He knew what he saw. He wasn’t about to rehash it.
Bonnet didn’t invite him places. Bonnet didn’t want him around, most of the time: since he and Ed had kissed and made up — quite literally, Izzy should add, in full view of the fucking crew, utterly obscene — he didn’t like being alone with Izzy. Maybe Izzy was a reminder of that part of Ed that he wanted to lock away, to protect Bonnet from. Or maybe he just wanted to avoid conflict, because there’d be blood if they were forced to be in the same room together for any extended period. Either way, Izzy figured he was up to something the moment Bonnet had asked him to report to the cabin, and gave a time for him to do so.
He got up out of his chair when Izzy walked in. He wasn’t going to say anything but he was pretty sure that Bonnet had a fucking erection. Clearly Ed was here, or had been here at some point very recently. Izzy couldn’t help but make a face thinking about the wheres and whens and hows of them together. Already had some idea of their proclivities. Didn’t need any more. Bonnet told him how nice it was of him to come, despite the fact that he was the one who asked Izzy here in the first place.
“Four o’clock on the dot — you’re right on time,” Bonnet said then. “And not a moment too soon. I have to say I’m really struggling with the dead reckoning on this route.”
“You brought me here to do some basic math?” Izzy asked. “Did that boarding school education go in one ear and out the other?”
Bonnet said, leading Izzy to the desk, “please let me know if I should get you some tea. We might be here for a while — this is really stumping me.”
Izzy reached the desk, and paused, because Ed was down there. Underneath the desk.
Ed — Izzy’s captain — was down there, kneeling, naked, and blindfolded.
Izzy’d seen Ed naked before. He knew what Ed was like. His condition. The medicine he took; the scars carved into his chest, a shade lighter, stark against the thick black lines of his tattoos; the lack between his legs. Izzy was proud of the fact that he wasn’t like, say, Jack, treating Ed like he was nothing more than a two-bit whore just because he had a cunt.
Which made it all the worse that Izzy’s cock was stirring. He tried to will it down. This was wrong. This was completely unbefitting of Blackbeard. Where was the man who brought officers of the Royal Navy to their knees?
“Ed,” Izzy whispered urgently. Ed said nothing back. His shoulders were tense, his head bowed even though he couldn’t see Izzy. “Come on. Get up. This isn’t you.”
“Israel, please,” Bonnet said. He was bringing another chair over, a simple wooden one, and took a seat in his own desk chair. “What are you doing? Let’s not waste time. We’re already on the way to Becouya.”
The man was insane. Izzy knew that already, had known that since the day he had the misfortune to first meet him. But God, didn’t this just confirm it.
“Do you prefer to stand?” Bonnet asked.
“I’m not playing this sick fucking game of yours,” Izzy said. “I’m not going to let you debase him.”
“…You think this is me debasing him?” Bonnet asked.
“I don’t know what else — this —” Izzy gesticulated wildly at what was in front of him — “could possibly be called.”
“Israel,” Bonnet said, and looked at him, a pitying look, as if Izzy somehow didn’t understand the man that he had spent years serving. The man in question was still fucking kneeling, still playing along. Izzy wasn’t sure if he was in on this. Ed’s tongue swiped out, quick, across his lips. “This isn’t disrespect. This isn’t debasement. You’d be the first to agree that there’s no one like Ed, is there?”
Bonnet’s hand was in Ed’s hair, compelling Ed to rest his head in Bonnet’s lap; Ed was turned away from Izzy, burying his face between Bonnet’s legs, where, need Izzy repeat it, he was hard and straining against his pants.
“Answer your captain,” Bonnet said, because he was Izzy’s captain now, too, wasn’t he, and fuck him for saying so.
“No,” Izzy said. “No one like him.”
“He’s perfect. He’s absolutely exquisite. It just wouldn’t make any sense for me to debase him,” Bonnet said. He scratched at the back of Ed’s head, at the backs of his ears, as if he were a beloved pet, and Ed relaxed as much as he seemed able to. “No, when I stumble into the possession of something beautiful, I treat it well. And the more beautiful it is, the more careful I am with it. And Ed is the most beautiful thing I have. Do you understand?”
“I —” Izzy started to say, and wanted to spit in Bonnet’s face, to throw him fucking overboard. He knew, though, that he had to adjust his approach: he could try and convince Ed to put his clothes back on and leave, which would just make him upset and cling onto Bonnet even more stubbornly, or he could be more strategic here. Ed made stupid decisions all the time, and it was up to Izzy to drag him back from those cliffs before he plunged off of them facefirst. He’d talk to him about it later. Let the shame really build up. Izzy could wait it out and remind him of it when he was in a better state to recognize this for what it was.
“I’ll help you with your problem,” Izzy said. “Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Excellent!” Bonnet said, as if this was a completely normal conversation. Izzy took his seat beside him and examined the charts and maps laid out on the desk. Bonnet told him all about the problem, something about wind speed, as he reviewed them, the page of calculations with random pen-scribbles all over it.
“A child could solve this,” Izzy said.
“So surely it isn’t too big of an ask for you to help me with it,” Bonnet said.
“You don’t know how?” Izzy asked.
“He does,” said Ed from below. “Tell him to just multiply the speed and the time. He’s gotten that already and is pretending he doesn’t —”
“Excuse me for one moment,” Bonnet said, cutting Ed off, and undid the buttons on his falls, taking out his dick. Cradling Ed’s face, he tapped the head of it against Ed’s mouth. Ed closed his lips around it, opening noticeably wide to take it in, and stayed still, letting Bonnet push deeper into him. Izzy could not fucking believe what he was seeing, especially when Bonnet kept talking as if this was a completely normal conversation to be having: “Now, where were we? I believe I was telling you about Petit Nevis — how do you propose we approach that?”
“Uh,” Izzy said, “I’m — I suppose you just. Go around it, don’t you? Aren’t you a captain? How are you not fucking dead yet? Do you actually know how to sail?”
“Going around it! How astute. I’ll make sure we do that,” Bonnet said, without a hint of irony, and pulled Ed’s head forward, deeper onto him. Ed made the nicest noise in response, a low moan around the cock in his mouth, and Izzy looked toward the window, pretending that there was something interesting just on the other side of the portholes.
This was making Izzy hard. Why was this making Izzy hard? This should not have been making Izzy hard. He had to shift his legs in his seat.
“Oh!” Bonnet said at that, turning to him. “Where are my manners? Would you like a turn on him?”
Izzy tried to ignore the surprised noise Ed made at that. He wasn’t sure Ed knew this was going to happen. He knew he should leave — that for his sake, for Ed’s sake, he should leave.
Shouldn’t he?
He supposed that Ed wouldn’t be sucking Bonnet off if he didn’t want to, is the thing. If Ed didn’t want to suck someone’s cock, he’d bite it off. But Izzy? Bonnet asking Izzy to share Ed, like he was a slice of cake that he was sampling — it wasn’t how things were meant to be. It wasn’t right.
“I’m his first mate, you fucking idiot,” Izzy said.
Bonnet blinked, as if Izzy just asked him a question in a foreign language. “What do you mean?”
“This isn’t how this works,” Izzy said. “I don’t give a shit what you do in private, but it’s a fucking affront to my duty as Ed’s first mate for you to expect me to — how’d you put it? — ‘have a turn on him.’”
Bonnet sighed. “I should’ve expected this. Suppose they don’t have etiquette classes on the high seas. You’ve got no manners at all,” he said. “Don’t you know it’s rude not to take what’s been offered to you? Especially, might I add, when it’s coming from your superior?”
Bonnet talking like this, about Ed, about his captain — bringing Ed literally to his knees — it offended Izzy like nothing else. There was a pecking order here, and Bonnet was just waltzing in as he always did and turning it upside down, and it made Izzy so hard he ached. He was never going to get an opportunity like this again. He unlaced his pants.
“There we go!” Bonnet said. “Finally acting like a proper first mate. I’ll teach you to appreciate the finer things yet.”
Ed took him eagerly into his mouth, and Izzy let out a shaking breath. Ed was all tight and wet around him, and he wasn’t moving, just letting Izzy’s cock rest on his tongue. Ed wanted this. Ed liked being treated this way, liked Bonnet making him into a frivolous little nothing, his kept thing to put on his mantle and show off, throwing away all of the work that he and Izzy had put in over the years. Izzy couldn’t tell if the full-body shudder that went through him was disgust or arousal.
“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Bonnet asked, and Izzy could only nod.
“Can you move?” Izzy asked Ed, and got no response. Just a contented humming that went right from his cock into every extremity, into his fingertips and down his spine, but wasn’t nearly enough.
Bonnet leaned into Izzy’s space, enough that Izzy got hit with a wave of some of the lavender-scented oil he used on his skin, had combed through Ed’s hair on occasion, and said, “he’s waiting for you. Go on. More than welcome.”
“Welcome to — fuck. To what?” Izzy asked. His head felt hazy. Like he was in a dream. He wouldn’t have been surprised to shut his eyes and wake up alone in his bed. But lo and behold, there was Ed still, kneeling before him, not touching him with anything but the heat of his mouth.
“His throat is like nothing else,” Bonnet said, fiddling now with one of his dividers. His thumb was on the top, and he was spinning it around on the surface of the desk by one of its points. “By all means, it’s yours to use.”
Izzy thrust his hips up a bit, and the back of Ed’s mouth was a soft wall against the head of his dick. And next to him was Bonnet’s fucking voice, nails on a chalkboard — “you know, you’ll get more leverage if you hold the sides of his head,” he said. “His hair provides a very good anchor point. And the feel of it — oh, Israel, it’s like spun silver.”
They were not going to be doing any more navigation. Izzy’s not sure Bonnet was even trying to do any navigation in the first place. Tentatively, he brought his hands to the sides of Ed’s head and drove his hips up again, forward, into his mouth, and when Bonnet was right he was fucking right because God this was unlike anything else he’d ever experienced. Ed’s mouth was so open and slack and ready for him — for him, for Izzy — and his hair was so soft, and Izzy pulled out and thrust back in and in and in. Ed choked and his throat spasmed beautifully around him. Izzy’s arms were against Ed’s cheeks, and he was crying; Izzy felt the wetness, light, on his wrists, and the way he looked, crying as he choked, tears trailing down his face from behind the blindfold, brow furrowed — all of it was getting to be too much.
“Oh, God,” Izzy groaned, and there was the presence of Bonnet’s warm hand on his arm, holding him back.
“Don’t want to put all your eggs in one basket,” Bonnet said. “You haven’t even tried his cunt.”
For some reason, Bonnet saying “cunt” sent another wave of heat flooding through Izzy. Something else on his ever-growing list of things to note and refuse to investigate any further. “Okay,” Izzy said, and took Ed off of his cock, resting his cheek on his thigh like he’d seen Bonnet do. The warmth was radiating out from Ed onto him. Ed’s lips and the length of Izzy’s cock were shiny with spit. “Yeah, I’ll — yeah. Let’s. Try that.”
“Wonderful! It really is so serendipitous, you stopping by when you did,” Bonnet said. “I prepared him in the back earlier today, so we can both take him at once.”
“You and me,” Izzy said. “At the same time. In — him.” It baffled him, the way Bonnet talked about Ed. Like he was talking about treating Izzy to afternoon tea.
“You’re going to want to, I assure you,” Bonnet told him. “He’s somehow even tighter when his ass is being filled, too. I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s always surprising me, our Ed.”
With that, he reached over and patted Ed on the head, and Ed beamed, tired. Bonnet slid the blindfold up and off, and for the first time Ed looked at Izzy, and Izzy could only look back at him for a moment before settling his gaze on the navigational charts again. Staring at Ed was like staring at the sun.
“Come on, then,” Bonnet said. “Help me get him up, will you?”
Izzy pulled his chair out and helped Ed to his feet while Bonnet opened the drawer of his desk and retreived a small vial of oil. Seeing Ed, upright, so close to him, in their mutual state of — whatever exactly was going on here: he was all the things Bonnet said he was. All that and more, all that couldn’t be put into words, more than what Izzy deserved and still couldn’t believe that he was getting right now. That Bonnet, infuriatingly, was allowing him to have.
Ed was still watching him with those big dark eyes, leaning back against the desk, and saying nothing. His breaths were steadying out again after Izzy had fucked his face. They were close enough that Izzy could smell the hair oil on him, too, lavender, with an herbal undercurrent, drawing him in.
Izzy reached out and skimmed his hand down Ed’s side, down his hipbone, and the muscles of Ed’s stomach jumped. Izzy wanted to grip him, tight, and pull him towards him; he wanted to —
“You can just put him down here,” Bonnet said suddenly, patting his lap, and so Izzy did. Ed drew in a sharp breath upon sitting.
“Can you hold his legs for a moment?” Bonnet asked. Izzy did so. “You’ll want to see this. The sight of it — it’s beatific, like a religious vision, I swear.”
And before Izzy could even ask what he was referring to, Bonnet tilted Ed back towards him, Ed tipping his head back onto Bonnet’s shoulder; Izzy bracing his hands on the backs of Ed’s knees and pushing Ed’s legs up and apart had spread open the brown folds of Ed’s cunt so that his flushed little cock jutted out, and below it, inside him, was — something.
“I’ll take these,” Bonnet said, looping his arms around Ed’s thighs and holding him that way. “You do the honors. Come on. Just give it a tug.”
Izzy reached forward and grasped the base of the thing, getting oil all over his glove. It’d touched far worse things, he supposed. Ed let out a high moan and twitched in Bonnet’s arms, and Bonnet buried his face in the juncture of Ed’s neck and shoulder, just pressing. It seemed to relax Ed.
“You can twist it around a bit,” Bonnet said, voice muffled.
Izzy turned his wrist slightly, and the sounds that it pulled out of Ed were like music, and the wetness of his cunt was mixing with the oil, easing the way. Izzy placed his other hand on Ed’s lower stomach, the flat plane of it shaking, and slowly drew the thing out, and he really had to admit that Bonnet was right when he told Izzy to wait for this, because the way Ed stretched around it, the way Ed was grinding his hips down to where Izzy’s hand was, the glass bauble bridging them, was about to make Izzy cum without even being touched.
“I told you,” Bonnet said. And it kept flaring out wider and wider, the circumference of it unbelievably thick, until it tapered to a point and fell out into Izzy’s grip. Izzy wasn’t sure how Ed was even able to take something like that. Although judging by the size of Bonnet’s cock, which the man in question had now pushed against Ed, slotted into the crease of his ass against his hole, it seemed he needed something of this size to prepare. “Take him again while I get myself ready?”
Izzy didn’t need to be told twice, and he took his position again holding Ed up by his knees while Bonnet slicked himself up with the oil. Izzy pushed Ed so that Bonnet could slide in, and he did so easily; Izzy kept holding Ed up so that Bonnet could push himself in all the way to the base of his cock. Ed whimpered and tried to squeeze his legs together. Izzy dutifully kept them apart, kept him on display.
“Good,” Bonnet said. Izzy couldn’t tell if he meant it for him or for Ed. When he spoke again, it was definitely to Izzy: “Your turn. God, Israel, he’s so tight, our Ed. So perfect.”
Izzy aligned the head of his cock with Ed’s open, waiting cunt and drove his hips forward. Ed was sopping wet enough that Izzy’s cock slipped in further without him even needing to push, heat giving way to more heat as he entered. If Ed’s mouth was enough to make him nearly cum harder than he ever had in his life, this was somehow a step above that. And all the while he could feel Bonnet inside Ed, a hard, hot presence that the head of his own cock nudged as he bottomed out.
Izzy pulled out and thrust back in, making Ed whine. “Do it again,” Bonnet told him, and soon Izzy picked up speed, driving himself deep into Ed while Bonnet shifted his hips down and pulled out and vice versa.
“Can I kiss him?” Izzy said, unsure who he was asking.
“You don’t need permission,” Bonnet said. Izzy went for it, and it wasn’t so much as a kiss so much as him searching for Ed’s mouth, not finding it at first, pressing his cheek against Ed’s stubble, then panting against him, open mouth against open mouth, lavender and herbs and the salt of sea and sweat between them. Ed moaned brokenly against Izzy, and Izzy kissed him properly, and he felt Ed’s cunt convulse around him with orgasm.
“Do you feel that, Israel?” Bonnet asked. “The way he clenches?”
“Uh-huh,” Izzy said.
“You should finish inside him,” Bonnet said, and Izzy knew he’d look back on this and hate himself for it, hate that he was letting Bonnet of all people boss him around while Ed just sat there and took it, but that in and of itself was enough to shock him into cumming. He pulsed inside Ed and pulled out, stumbling backwards into his seat.
Bonnet was still bouncing Ed on his cock, one arm holding him around the middle, the other cradling his chest at his scars, thumb pressed to Ed’s sternum. Izzy watched, sweat in his eyelashes, sweat gathering in the lines of his hand inside his glove, as Bonnet held Ed down and came with a grunt. Ed shivered through it. Bonnet looked back at Izzy, his face pink with exertion, and Izzy shivered, too.
And, just when Izzy thought it was over, and he’d be kicked out of the captain’s quarters or wake up in his own room, whichever happened first, Bonnet lifted Ed up and off of him and showed Izzy what they had done to him. A thin line of Izzy’s cum dribbled out of Ed’s cunt and down to his ass, where it mixed with Bonnet’s, where Izzy could no longer tell whose was whose. Ed keened softly, his eyelids fluttering closed.
“You’re a very good first mate,” Bonnet said. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
Izzy felt as if he were walking into a trap. He nodded.
“Oh, good!” said Bonnet. “You’re always in the right places at the right times, aren’t you? Maybe you’ll find yourself in here again sometime soon.”
Izzy, despite his greater judgement, wanted that very much.