Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stede was just tucking into a late supper of tea and two expertly-made custard cream biscuits when there was a knock on his cabin door.

“Come in,” he mumbled as loud as he could through a mouthful of crumbs. 

He took a sip of tea to wash down the last of the first biscuit, and replaced the teacup onto its saucer. The second biscuit eyed him, looking especially creamy and velvety, but Stede told himself to save it for later. In the meantime, he licked his lips, finding another crumb in the corner of his mouth. At least that would tide him over until he dealt with whoever was at the door.

The knock came again.

Stede cleared his throat. “I said, come in!”

Another moment passed with no one entering. 

Huffing in annoyance, Stede re-knotted his yellow dressing gown, crossed the room, and threw open the door.

“How may I—oh,” Stede said, cut off by the sight of a disheveled and anxious-looking Izzy Hands.

Izzy thrust a hand out, palm up, with two white pills resting in the centre. “I can’t take them,” he hissed.

“For goodness sake,” Stede said, “I keep telling you—they’re easier to swallow with food.”

“It’s not that.” Izzy glanced over his shoulder. He closed his fist and shoved his hands in his pockets, presumably plunging the pills into a lint-lined pocket.

“Oh heavens, just come inside would you?”

Stede led him to one of his antique wingback armchairs, taking the one opposite. He reluctantly held out the saucer that contained the remaining biscuit. He sighed in relief as Izzy waved it off.

Izzy shuffled in his seat, trying to get comfortable, and then rubbed his left thigh where it met his wooden leg.

“Are they not working?” Stede asked. 

Stede already knew the answer. After only a week, the painkillers had been highly efficacious. Izzy was visibly in less pain, was walking more confidently, and had started training again. He had even sworn off drink, which had pleased Stede to no end. It had greatly vexed Stede to see one of his crew drinking themselves into a stupor day after day.

“They’re working.” Izzy leaned in, lowering his voice. “They’re working too well.”

“Too well?”

“They… they help me sleep.”

Stede smiled a small smile. He’d hoped that would be the case. In the candlelight, he could see the bags under Izzy’s eyes were clearing. Only a few days earlier, they’d been so dark that Izzy had looked more skeletal than a jolly roger. 

The night terrors had stopped too. For the past two months, anyone who walked past Izzy’s cabin at night would hear Izzy wailing in a fitful sleep. Whether he called out for Ed or screamed as he tried to escape from Ed, Stede didn’t know. All Stede knew was that, while Edward Teach was long gone from the ship, he still had his claws in Izzy.

“Well then,” Stede said, “I’m glad to hear you’re sleeping.” He yawned, thinking he wasn’t too far off bed himself.

“You don’t understand… what if we’re attacked?”

Stede sipped his tea. “Then we fight.”

“Stede—they put me under too deep. I can’t wake up from them. And, if something happened…”

Stede put his teacup down, surprised to hear Izzy use his Christian name. “Hmm… that is a bit of a pickle, isn’t it? Let me noodle on it for a mo’.”

Izzy shrugged. After a moment, he began fidgeting in his seat. He leaned forward, fished out a cushion from behind his back, and tossed it onto the adjacent settee. He then settled back into the chair and frowned, seeming to regret his decision.

Stede stroked his chin, willing a solution to appear. 

As he thought, his mind began to wander and he found himself wishing he could grow a beard even half as thick as Izzy’s goatee. And Izzy’s hair didn’t end there. Despite Izzy’s odd devotion to wearing such a high collar, Stede knew he was covered in hair from at least collarbone to belly. Stede had stolen the odd glance at Izzy when he sparred—shirtless and glistening with sweat—and Stede could only imagine how much further down Izzy’s body hair went…

Sparring. That was it! He raised a finger, his mouth dropping open to shape a triumphant ‘Ah!’

“What you need,” he said, “is a spotter!”

Izzy frowned, dubious. “A spotter?”

“Yes. You know, a partner.” Stede blushed. “I mean, a sort of seconder who’ll watch over you. Make sure you don’t get hurt.” Izzy began shaking his head, but Stede pressed on. “You can keep taking the pills and getting a good night’s sleep, and I can spot you like the crew do when they train.”

“I really don’t—”

“No, I insist.” Stede stood up and crossed the room, tea and biscuit forgotten. He whipped back a curtain and waved his hands with a magician’s flourish, revealing his bed. “It’s perfect. You’ll sleep here with me and I can just… watch you. I mean, watch over you. Watch out for you.”

Izzy glared at Stede, his arm folded.

“We can top and tail, if you like,” Stede continued. “Or I can take the settee. Or even the fainting couch, come to think of it.” He fluffed one of the down pillows at the head of the bed. “I don’t need much sleep at the best of times. I tend to lie awake reading books or indulging in the time alone with myself.” He caught himself and flushed beet red, realising what he’d just implied. He leapt up and marched to the closet to flick briskly through the hangers. “Well, anyway, I’m a light sleeper, so I’ll wake if anyone raises the alarm. And I can rouse you, if needed. Or let you keep sleeping if I assess the threat and decide it’s containable.”

Stede found the outfit he’d been searching for. He crossed back to the sitting area and laid a black silk button-up with matching trousers over the settee.

“I’m not wearing your clothes, Bonnet,” Izzy said. He stood up, keeping the settee between them like it was the defensive barrier between two enemies.

“Nonsense,” Stede said. He stepped around the settee to the small side table next to his armchair and, still standing, drained the last of his tea. “If you’re sleeping here tonight, I want you to be comfortable. I mean, you can sleep in whatever it is you usually sleep in, if you prefer…”

Izzy gave him a withering look. He fished the pills from his pocket, threw them back, and swallowed them dry. “Fine. But don’t watch.”

Stede blanched as he realised Izzy was unbuttoning his shirt, and turned politely around. He wanted to make some crack about how watching was, in fact, exactly what he would be doing, but he didn’t want to press his luck.

A sudden thought gripped him. “You’re not worried about me, you know, taking advantage?”

“The fuck does that mean?”

Stede looked down at the floor and toed at the pastel rug, glad Izzy couldn’t see his face. “I just mean, we’re going to sleep in here together. You, completely vulnerable. Me, well, completely single now, I guess you could say. You’re not worried I might try something in the night? Take advantage of you? Get a little handsy in my sleep?”

Stede strained his ears, but could only hear the shuffling of fabric and several small grunts of exertion as Izzy undressed. He wrung his hands, waiting for a reply.

“Bonnet,” Izzy said dryly, “I’d like to see you try.”

Stede smiled uncertainly to himself, unsure if that was an indictment on his virility or a genuine invitation disguised as sarcasm. He rocked on his heels, impatient to turn around, and spied the custard cream still waiting for him. He popped the entire thing in his mouth. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t wishing for another.

~

Stede woke, wrenched from sleep as though he’d been kicked off a cliff.

“Hello?” he called.

Above the usual creaking and listing of the ship, there were a few distant shouts. There’d been a noise, he realised. Some kind of bang or crash or boom. He wasn’t sure exactly, but it had been loud enough that it had jolted right through him.

He blinked in the dark room, willing his eyes to focus on details. The candles had been snuffed out before he’d gone to sleep, and the fireplace glowed duller than a pre-dusk sky. He shivered.

Sounds from outside faded in. Two voices argued. Stede craned his neck and squinted, as though that would somehow focus his hearing, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

He should get up. Investigate. Find out what the devil was going on out there. But it was warm in the bed—toasty warm—and the night air was cold on his face and neck. He resisted the urge to burrow back down below the blankets and again strained to listen, hoping the sounds would resolve.

Another smaller crash. A door thrown open. Heavy footsteps. A new voice, lower than the others, joined the discussion. Stede made out the words “the fuck” and “what time it is?”

Some more muffled arguing.

“Sorry! Sorry, everyone!” called one of the first voices. “It’s all fine now. Go back to sleep.”

The discussion continued, lower, tapering off. Then footsteps. Then a door closing again, quieter this time.

Stede huffed. If whoever had gone to check hadn’t raised the alarm, then there was no point in him going out there. He rolled over, facing into the middle of the bed, and dragged the blankets back up to his chin. As he rubbed his feet together, his foot brushed something warm and spongy.

A rat!

Stede shrieked and scrambled back. Then he paused, realisation dawning on him.

“Oh, fuck, Izzy! It’s you.” He swallowed through panting breaths. “I’m so sorry, I forgot you’re here.”

Izzy didn’t stir.

As Stede got his breathing back under control, he listened. All was quiet again—just the creaking ship, the lapping waves, and Izzy’s gentle snoring.

“Izzy?” Stede whispered. “Did I wake you?”

No reply.

Stede moved his foot again, brushing against Izzy’s hairy ankle where Izzy had rolled the bottom hems up—Stede’s trousers having been too long on him.

Stede couldn’t believe he’d forgotten Izzy was sleeping with him. Not sleeping with him. Sleeping beside him. In his bed. And not even top and tail.

The painkillers were certainly working—Izzy was right about them being an unintentional sedative. He seemed so peaceful, lying on his back, his mouth open just a fraction.

Stede propped himself up on an elbow to study him. Izzy was still as gaunt as he had been since Ed left a few months back—since before that, actually—but his brow and dimples were smoothed out with sleep. A lock of hair fell across his temple.

Stede reached out, hesitated, and then tucked it behind Izzy’s ear.

Izzy’s snoring stopped. Izzy swallowed, his breathing still even. Something gentler than a smile played across his lips.

“Izzy,” Stede whispered. He waited. “Izzy,” he said louder.

Nothing.

He reached out to brush the same lock behind his ear, then turned his hand, and caressed Izzy’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“Hey, Izzy!”

Still nothing.

The blankets lay lower on Izzy than on Stede, exposing half his torso. He must have pushed them down sometime in the night. His top button was undone, exposing a shadow of chest hair.

Something dark and hot kindled deep in Stede’s belly. He reached across and deftly unbuttoned the next button down. He waited, but Izzy didn’t stir. Without thinking, he slipped his hand beneath the silk fabric, letting himself at long last brush over Izzy’s chest and comb through his chest hair. 

It was better than Stede could ever have imagined. Better than he had imagined during long nights lying awake and stripping himself raw.

He brushed over one of Izzy’s nipples, feeling it immediately pebble beneath his touch. Stede’s cock pulsed. He felt like he was going to pass out.

Izzy took a sudden sharp breath.

Stede froze, his hand still down Izzy’s shirt, but Izzy continued lightly snoring, undisturbed.

Stede risked undoing another button. One of Izzy’s large pecs slumped against the open fabric. Stede made a strangled sound. Gingerly, he reached out to cup Izzy’s pec, feeling the weight and density of it in his hand. It was surprisingly heavy, more like a breast than a pec. Incredible.

But this was wrong. Very wrong. Really, really very wrong indeed.

Then again, Izzy had said to try, hadn’t he? Or had he? Surely he hadn’t meant for Stede to actually act upon it. It had just been a scathing retort—nothing more.

Stede withdrew his hand and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He’d stop. He’d stop right now. No more.

Maybe he’d get up and sleep on the settee after all. He’d collect up all the cushions and make a little nest. Then he’d stroke himself to a silent, choked down orgasm, trying not to stain the settee’s fabric in the process.

No. He wouldn’t even do that. He’d lie here in bed and will his dick to soften. A total pervert like him didn’t deserve relief. But, first, he’d roll over and do up Izzy’s buttons, covering his tracks.

Stede rolled onto his side. His fingers hovered over the buttons.

Izzy’s snore came like a gentle purr, warm and comforting and painfully sweet.

Stede somehow found himself pushing up onto his hands and scrambling on top of Izzy, straddling him. He leaned down close to Izzy’s face, close enough to feel Izzy’s breath on his lips. 

“Izzy?” he said gently. “Is this okay?”

He rubbed his nose against Izzy’s nose, and then let his lips brush over Izzy’s. He planted a chaste kiss on Izzy’s lower lip. With no signal to continue or stop, Stede leaned in for another, kissing Izzy fully.

He slid his hands beneath Izzy’s back, holding him, as he kissed into Izzy’s mouth. His tongue swept over Izzy’s where it lay slumped and heavy in the basin of his mouth. But it didn’t matter. Stede kissed him anyway, licking in, tasting him, taking as much as he wanted from him. And fuck, did he want him.

“It’s a warm night, dear,” Stede said. “Let’s get this off you.”

He unbuttoned the remaining buttons and parted Izzy’s shirt reverently as though opening a holy text on a podium.

“Mmm… there you are, dear. Beautiful.”

He ran his hands up and down Izzy’s chest, stroking his hair, pinching and rolling his nipples, and tracing around the curves of his pecs and belly.

“Beautiful,” he said again.

Stede’s dick was painfully hard in his pyjama bottoms. He usually just wore a night shirt and smalls, but it had seemed uncouth to not wear a similar set of silk trousers with Izzy here. He dragged the top of his trousers down a couple of inches, freeing his cock. He scoffed. Uncouth. And now look at him, his cock to pointing like a crossroads marker over the top of his waistband.

He kissed Izzy again, unable to help himself, relishing the scent of him—sea breeze and leather and something flowery he couldn’t put a name to. He licked in deeper like he wanted to devour Izzy whole.

Stede was so fucking hard now. He rolled his groin against Izzy’s, his naked cock sliding against the smooth silk of Izzy’s borrowed trousers. Dear lord, Stede was never going to wash them again. There was, however, no answering hardness from Izzy’s body. Not to worry. Conscious or no, Stede was determined to draw an erection out of him, no matter how much of a challenge that proved to be.

Stede broke off from kissing Izzy with a panting whine. More. He needed more.

“Darling, you don’t mind if I keep kissing you, do you?” Stede waited in case there was a reply.

No reply forthcoming but shallow snoring, Stede kissed down Izzy’s neck. The stubble below Izzy’s jaw was thick and rough, and tasted of salt air and sweat. He licked the taste from his own bottom lip, and then went back in for more. 

Stede kept kissing downward until his lips brushed a nipple. He stopped to lick over it, flicking it first with the tip of his tongue and then dragging his bottom lip over it. He closed his mouth to kiss it, and then sucked and sucked and sucked. In this light, he couldn’t tell if he was sucking colour into it or leeching the colour from it. At the same time, his fingers found Izzy’s other nipple, and he squeezed and rolled it between thumb and forefinger.

He continued kissing downward, through the thicket of chest hair until his lips met Izzy’s silk waistband. Stede shuffled down the bed and rested his elbows on Izzy’s thighs. He traced his fingertips lightly over Izzy’s groin.

Still not hard. 

“You don’t like this, dear? Or you’re just playing hard to get?”

Stede smiled to himself. It would be his absolute pleasure to suck Izzy until it stood to a standing ovation, so to speak. It couldn’t be that hard to get Izzy going. If all else failed, Stede could just work on opening up his ass—hard or not hard, Stede could always just fuck him.

Salivating at the thought, he wiped the corner of his mouth.

“Darling, you’ll have me leaking from both ends!”

He lowered his head to mouth over the crotch of Izzy’s trousers. His first thought was that Izzy really was rather flat here. Maybe he was just on the smaller side or somehow tucked back through his thighs? His second thought was the silk had a salt tang that was slightly more acrid than he’d been expecting.

“Is that you or me, love?” Stede pulled back to find a small, white circle where his cock had leaked onto Izzy. “Ah, that’s me. Nevermind. I’m sure the stain will come out. But why don’t we take these off—get you a smidge more comfy.”

Stede shoved the blankets down to the bottom of the bed, and then liberated Izzy of his trousers. He kept Izzy’s smalls on, feeling it improper to strip him nude all in one swift move. Besides, he wanted to draw out the grand reveal.

Stede bowed his head again, as if in prayer. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, breathing in the fresh, flowery scent of Izzy, and then dragged the flat of his tongue up over Izzy’s smalls.

Again, he was struck by the curious lack of a bulge. It wasn’t just that Izzy wasn’t hard, it was as if there was nothing there at all. In fact, it was almost as if…

Stede ran a fingertip down the centre of the fabric. He frowned. He traced across towards the side seam, hooked his finger around the gusset, and pulled it across to expose the prize beneath. His jaw dropped.

Izzy had a cunt.

“Holy moly!”

Stede hadn’t been with a woman since Mary. He hadn’t been with any women except Mary. When sexual congress with her had turned out to be a bit disenchanting to say the least, Stede had thought maybe the whole notion of sex had been over-hyped by his peers. 

Then, when he’d gotten together with Ed, and they’d made love together, he suddenly knew what the lads had always been banging on about. And so he’d chalked up his previously failed relations to him being uninterested in women and their equipment.

Now, he wondered if he hadn’t got it all backwards after all. It was definitely men he was attracted to—that remained an undisputed fact. But, as his mouth watered, cockhead drooled, and hips rolled impatiently against the mattress, he found he was intensely aroused by this kind of equipment after all. It just needed to be on a man.

Still holding Izzy’s smalls to the side, he ran his fingers lightly over Izzy’s cunt, brushing over Izzy’s pubic hair like the wind rippling over a crop field. Stede used his thumbs to gingerly spread Izzy’s cunt lips to get a better view.

Pink. So pink. And glistening in the glow of the near-dormant fire. Stede stared in awe, unsure whether to lick it or finger it or just lie here admiring it as though he was looking at the pink pearly gates of heaven itself.

He shook his head. Look no longer. What sense was there standing on this side of the gates when he could enter and see the very face of god?

Pushing up to kneel, Stede pulled Izzy’s smalls down over his thighs, and then bent Izzy’s legs to get the smalls over his knees and off completely. 

Stede held the smalls to his face and breathed in deeply. That heavenly bouquet. He wanted to rub it all over himself. He wanted to hang the leg holes over his ears and wear the smalls over his mouth and nose. Christ, he wanted to lick up the stiff gusset and keep on licking and licking until he made a hole in the damn fabric.

Taking one last long, sustaining inhale of scent, Stede carefully reached across and slid the drawer of his night table open, taking care not to jostle Izzy. He deposited the smalls inside and closed the drawer. 

It seemed idiotic. Izzy would search for them in the morning and, upon not finding them, would know exactly who had taken them. On the other hand, an Izzy who had virtually dared Stede to take liberties with his body… maybe that was an Izzy who would excuse—no, who would expect Stede to take his smalls as a memento.

Settling back into place, Stede nudged Izzy’s thighs further apart. 

Still dead to the world, so to speak, Izzy’s knees fell outwards in opposite directions. Heaven’s gates were decidedly open.

“Rolling out the red carpet for me, my dear?”

Like a parched deer happening upon a peaceful stream, Stede lapped at him greedily. Flowery salt-sweetness filled his senses. As he licked and kissed and sucked, he could hear his heart beating in his ears, the smacking of his lips, and the slosh-slap sound of his tongue.

Above it all, Izzy exhaled with a breathy moan.

Stede stopped short, his lips pursed with his tongue poking comically through. He waited, but no sound or movement followed. Slowly, very slowly, he risked another lick.

Another moan—almost a sigh—escaped Izzy’s lips. It was the kind of sound one might make while lowering themselves into a hot, fragrant bath at the end of a long week.

Emboldened, Stede continued licking. He let his mouth wander Izzy’s folds, cresting over hills and down into valleys, surprised at how many more folds Izzy seemed to have than Mary, and how much longer they hung down. He sucked them into his mouth, tonguing them like he was French kissing.

Izzy’s outer labia seemed to part for him, welcoming him in, and Stede could feel the gape of him against his tongue.

Not one to shy from an invitation, Stede licked several long lines up Izzy’s cunt, and then began working the tip of his tongue in. He slid in deeper and deeper, and curled his tongue up to seek out Izzy’s ambrosial taste. Stede’s lips and nose were flush to Izzy’s folds and mound. He shook his head from side to side, trying to thrust his tongue deeper while feeling and smelling and practically drowning in Izzy’s cunt.

Again, Izzy moaned.

“Mmm… you like that, don’t you, darling?” Stede said, pausing to sit back on his knees. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and licked it like a cat cleaning its paw. “You taste so good, sweet boy. So good, oh my lord.”

Stede cocked his head. The look of Izzy’s cunt had changed. The colour had a deeper pink flush now, almost as red as a dew-sprinkled rose. The shape was different too, the petals parting as the bud exploded into full, open bloom.

Stede explored with his fingers—rubbing, stretching, gaping. He stroked over Izzy’s cunt hole with his middle finger, and his breath caught in his throat as his finger slid inside.

Warm. Warm and wet. Warm and wet and welcoming. Clearly Izzy wanted this. If Izzy didn’t want this, his cunt wouldn’t be sucking Stede in like this. Surely?

Stede didn’t move his finger much at first. He was tempted to push in deeper, to flex his finger, to seek out the sides and end of Izzy’s cavern. But Stede just rested there, his finger enveloped and warmed, his mind racing, his dick throbbing.

The scent of Izzy’s cunt seemed to blossom through the room. Fresh, tart, sweet. Stede sniffed. Water lilies on a humid day—the kind of day where the air is thick and heavy, and the sunlight bright.

“Water lilies,” Stede said aloud. He huffed a happy little sigh and beamed like he was the only man in all of creation holding this particular secret. Izzy Hands’ cunt smelled like water lilies.

Izzy shifted in his sleep, causing Stede to accidentally slide in deeper.

Well, it seemed as good a reason to move inside Izzy as any. Stede twisted his wrist to turn his palm upward and then curled his finger along the top wall. The flesh was soft and yet rough, and seemed to guide him ever deeper. Stede had to clench his groin muscles to stop himself from coming at the sensation.

Izzy moaned again, louder. The sound seemed to be more from pleasure this time than just soothing relief. A small frown creased Izzy’s brow and, as Stede thrust two fingers in and out with a short, steady pace, Izzy’s moaning continued, finding a sweet little pattern of its own.

“That’s it, love, you just lie there and let me take care of everything. It’s been a hard few months, hasn’t it? Disturbed sleep, bad dreams, the unbearable weight of grief—But you don’t have to worry about a thing with me. I’m going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

Stede’s moans joined Izzy’s. 

How was Izzy so wet? Mary had never been this wet. 

Were all cunts like this? Or just Izzy’s? And was this Izzy’s natural state or was this some sign that he was especially enjoying himself?

Again, conversations with other men came back to Stede. The men back in Barbados sitting around the tavern, throwing back endless pints of ale, and telling tall tales of lusty women parting for them, quivering for them, spurting or flooding or gushing for them. As he’d gone home and done his husbandly duty, battling his way through the act with a cock half-flaccid from too much drink and his own secret disinterest, he’d known their stories had just been that. Stories.

But now, as he slid a second finger into Izzy and listened to the obscene sluicing squelch, he knew he’d been wrong about so many, many things.

“Can you take three, darling?” Stede whispered, the words catching on a moan.

He brought three fingertips together to a point and urged them inside. They slid in as easily as a teaspoon through custard.

Stede longed to touch himself— ached to touch himself—but he wasn’t sure if he had the coordination to work himself at Izzy at the same time, while taking care not to push himself into a premature frenzy or to accidentally wake Izzy. All the same, he brushed his palm over his cock, biting his lip so as to not cry out or grab his cock and choke it to a bursting climax.

He forced himself to pull away. A long thread of precome came with him, like a single strand of spider’s web. Stede scooped up a globule and wiped it over Izzy’s clit.

“A gift for you, my little lotus flower.” Without withdrawing his fingers, Stede shifted his weight and lowered himself to one elbow so he could suckle Izzy’s clit. “Mmm… we taste divine together.”

Izzy’s moans were coming faster now, husky little sounds that only spurred Stede on.

Stede folded his pinky finger in to meet his other fingers and plunged in with all four. Balancing carefully, he sucked the thumb of his free hand, wetting it well, and then rubbed over Izzy’s clit.

In an instant, Izzy’s moans blended to one longer groan. His thighs quivered. His cunt clenched and pulsated. A small stream of fluid emanated out from between Stede’s knuckles and Izzy’s hole, and trickled down Izzy’s thighs.

Stede thrust his head forward to meet it, and licked up every last drop. 

Stede eased his hand out with a sound akin to a squelching pop—the sound halfway between a cork popping and the sluice of foaming champagne down one’s wrist. Better than champagne, Stede thought, as he sucked each of his fingers in turn.

There was colour high on Izzy’s cheekbones now, his cheeks rosy and almost shiny. A far more becoming look than the ashy, sallow look he’d had earlier. Though, Izzy’s frown hadn’t disappeared—if anything, it had only deepened. Izzy tossed his head as if searching for something.

“You want more, do you?” Stede scoffed warmly. “Oh, my sweet dear, don’t fret. We are just getting started.”

Stede swiped another glob of precome and rubbed it over Izzy’s clit. He returned his other hand to its new home—Izzy’s cunt hole. With his fingers and thumb meeting at a point, Stede sank his entire fist inside.

The slide was so easy. Too easy. Stede had never even heard of such a thing. This wasn’t a story any of the ale-soaked lads had told—pleasuring a lover with the grind in of a whole, entire hand. Stede chewed his bottom lip, wondering if he’d invented something new. 

Strangest of all was how Izzy was taking it. Was it the medication that relaxed him this much? Or was this something Izzy was capable of generally? He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. The faintest ghost of a smile graced the corner of Izzy’s mouth—nothing conscious or deliberate, just the happy, relaxed expression of someone dreaming about something pleasant.

Purely academically, Stede wondered if he could fit more than a fist. The thought brushed over him and then gripped him, much in the same way he longed to grip his cock. Without hesitation, Stede found himself sucking the index and middle fingers of his spare hand, and trying to twist and slide them in against his occupied hand.

“That’s it, you can do it,” he muttered, half to himself, half to Izzy.

He found a way, moving his fist slightly to the side to accommodate the additional fingers. 

Stede’s wrists began to ache. His elbows burned and his shoulders were starting to stiffen. He didn’t want to pull out, but he needed to find a work out a position that was more sustainable.

With a disappointed sigh, he withdrew his hands. He pushed himself up to sit cross-legged, rolled his shoulders, and stretched his arms. His elbow joint cracked.

Izzy flinched at the sound.

“Shh, dear. I’ll have you filled again soon.”

Stede arranged himself more comfortably. 

This time, he worked both hands in at the same time, his palms touching as in prayer. It took some trial and error, but he managed to slide both fists in until only his wrists were visible. 

He couldn’t go much further inside as there wasn’t any more room, so thrusting was out of the question. Instead he tugged backwards, marvelling at the way Izzy’s cunt lips stretched as the bottoms of his thumbs peeked out.

Izzy cried out. A wordless sound, heavy with yearning.

Stede sunk back in, and gently rocked and rocked and rocked. 

Izzy’s moans came harder and closer together.

“Wha—?” Izzy slurred.

Stede’s heart skipped a beat. 

Panic rolled over him like cold droplets wrung over the back of his neck. He didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like he could wrench his fists out and hide them behind his back as though nothing was amiss.

He watched Izzy’s face, waiting for some sign that Izzy was properly awake. But Izzy tossed his head back and forth, his eyes still closed, and mouth frowning like he was searching for a way back into his dreams.

“Wha ar-you…?”

“Shh,” Stede soothed. “Shh, keep sleeping. I’m taking care of you. I’m keeping watch.”

That seemed to satisfy Izzy. He let go of consciousness and slipped back into oblivion.

Slowly, very slowly, Stede began rocking his hands again. He felt Izzy’s thighs shake in response, the pressure building.

Izzy’s eyes fluttered but remained closed, and his mouth fell open to form a sluggish, guttural groan. Suddenly, his whole body shuddered, and another surge of come spurted out around Stede’s wrists, ran down Izzy’s legs, and soaked into the mattress.

As Izzy thrashed through the final throes, Stede pulled out. He felt the rush of it as though he’d caught a wave and let it carry him back to shore. He wiped Izzy’s juices over his cock and caught his breath—he hadn’t realised just how worked up he’d gotten.

Stede could hold back no longer. He needed to fuck Izzy. 

He pulled his nightshirt over his head, and threw it to the floor. He shoved his trousers down to his knees, and gave himself a few quick, relieving pumps. He looked up from staring down at his dick to reassure himself with the sight of Izzy’s serene face.

Izzy stared back, his eyes as wide as a cornered cat’s.

“Izzy?” Stede hissed.

Izzy blinked several long, slow blinks. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. He seemed to look through Stede as though still gripped by sleep.

“It’s a dream, darling,” Stede tried. “Just a dream. You keep sleeping.”

“Hm?”

“Shhh… sleep, dear. Sleep.”

“Mm-hm.” Izzy yawned, eyelids heavy.

Stede watched, his heart pounding like cannon fire, his every nerve jangling, as Izzy seemed to accept this explanation and fell back into sleep’s embrace once more.

Stede kept watching. Waiting. Hardly daring to draw breath.

Eventually, Izzy’s breathing levelled out and he began snoring softly like sails fluttering in a pre-dawn breeze.

Stede exhaled. He wiped sweat from his brow. 

He didn’t know what to do now. His limbs were shaky, half from panic and half from forcing himself to hold his current position. His cock was soft, though it was still dribbling a small puddle onto the sheet below.

The reality of what Stede was doing settled in.

How would he ever explain it? The mattress sopping wet beneath them. Izzy stripped naked. Izzy who’d hardly be able to overlook the sensation of a recently fisted cunt—whatever that felt like. Stretched, Stede imagined. Stretched out, filled out, hollowed out. Or perhaps Izzy would ache for the thing that had filled him, reaching out to Stede to pull him back in?

Stede’s gaze dropped to Izzy’s cunt. The red flush had only intensified. The folds looked puffier—swollen and closed as if trying to keep subsequent intrusions out. Or to keep a desired mate’s emission in.

Stede reached out and thumbed over Izzy’s clit, relishing it in case this was the last time he’d ever feel it.

Izzy writhed in his sleep, his breathing shallow. A trickle of come slid from his hole.

Stede’s cock flagged again.

There was no hiding what he’s already done to Izzy. And no undoing it. What did his mother always say? In for a penny, in for a pound?

Stede took his cock in hand and swiped the tip over Izzy’s cunt, wiping up his precome and spreading Izzy’s come around. Then he was pushing in, Izzy’s swollen lips parting as Stede slid all the way home. Stede moaned in desperate relief. Holy mother of god, it was like plunging into a bowl of warmed custard or rice pudding.

Stede slid his arms between Izzy’s back and the mattress, gathering Izzy to him, as he buried his face in Izzy’s neck.

“Bonnet…?” Izzy moaned, groggily.

“Shh… let daddy take what he needs.”

There was no stopping now. Stede was riding this ride until the damn end.

Izzy whined like he’d been awoken early on his day off.

“Go back to sleep, love. I’ll be finished soon.”

Stede continued thrusting, pulling almost all the way out each time only to slam back in deep.

Izzy moaned again. It was unclear if it was more ‘ah’ or ‘ow’.

“Shh… if it hurts, I’ll stop. But this feels good, yes? You like it?”

“I don’t… it doesn’t… huh?” Izzy replied, disoriented, perhaps even sleep talking.

Stede hoped for the latter. “Don’t worry. I’ll only be another minute.”

He kissed Izzy’s mouth, licking in. Izzy’s head snapped back. 

“Bonnet?! What the fuck are you doing?” 

Izzy gripped Stede’s shoulders and pushed Stede back far enough for them to make eye contact. Izzy’s eyes were clear now—clear and sharp and boring into Stede.

“Shh, darling. You like this, don’t you remember?” Stede kept rolling his hips to pound into Izzy, the mattress springs squeaking with his efforts.

“Remember?” Izzy cried. “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

Stede clapped a hand over Izzy’s mouth and turned Izzy’s head to the side. His lips brushed Izzy’s ear. “You remember your dreams, don’t you? I know you’ve dreamed about me. About what we could be together. About what I could do to you.”

He felt Izzy go limp beneath him. He continued, not letting up his pace. But he pulled his hand from Izzy’s mouth, dragging a thumb over Izzy’s bottom lip as he went.

“Here, let me make it better.” Stede licked his fingers and reached down between their bodies to rub Izzy’s clit. “Better?” he asked.

Izzy didn’t reply.

Stede closed his eyes, concentrating on simultaneously rubbing and thrusting. He kept waiting for Izzy to push him off, or slap him, or do him some other violence. Or, if Izzy liked it, to feel Izzy’s hands run over his back, scratch down his spine, and kiss him passionately. But Izzy was just as lifeless as when he’d been asleep.

“You’ll get me pregnant,” Izzy said at last.

Stede scoffed. “Forgive me, but you’re too old for that, surely.”

“I haven’t gone through the change yet.”

Stede hesitated for a moment. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it if it happens.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I’ll take care of you,” Stede said, and then, lower, added, “and our baby.”

For reasons Stede chose not to interrogate in the moment, it was the thought of them conceiving a baby together that pushed him over the edge. He scrambled at Izzy, trying to hold them chest-to-chest, pounding heart against pounding heart. But Izzy was dead weight beneath him. 

As Stede groaned through a long, spurting orgasm, all he could think about was the feeling of his body convulsing and releasing and fully draining, his emission flooding Izzy’s insides, his seed searching out Izzy’s waiting flower.

“Oh god,” Stede cried out, his lungs heaving with the effort. He collapsed against Izzy’s chest and closed his eyes. “God.”

Izzy tapped his back. “Finished?” he asked, totally devoid of emotion.

“Yes. Yes, I think I am. Thank you, Izzy.”

They lay there for a long time. Izzy unmoving while Stede took his time to come back down to earth. 

Eventually, Stede’s cock softened enough to slide out of Izzy of its own accord, a fresh wave of Stede’s ejaculate sluicing out with it.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting your own bed,” Stede said quietly.

“How long until we make port?”

“Huh? Oh.” Stede sighed. It was too much to hope that they could go back to being shipmates after something like this. Of course Izzy would want to leave as soon as they made it back to land. “Fifteen, maybe twenty days?”

“Okay,” Izzy said, sounding resigned.

“Okay?”

Izzy squirmed and grunted uncomfortably. 

Stede took the hint and rolled off him. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering what to say. What could he possibly say? 

“I’ve got twenty-four pills left,” Izzy said. “Should be enough if we ration them.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I take two a night usually, but we can do one every second night to make them last. You reckon you can get more?” Izzy paused, waiting. “Bonnet??”

It took Stede a moment to realise what Izzy was saying—that he wanted to do this again. Again and again. Stede’s heart beat even faster than when he’d crested his orgasm. His eyes sprang with tears. Then, he realised Izzy had used the word ‘we’ and he melted all over again.

“For fuck’s sake, Stede, are you even listening to me?”

Stede rolled onto his side, and turned Izzy’s face to meet his kiss. He wrapped his arms around Izzy and, this time, Izzy held him back.

“Yes,” Stede said. “I can get more.”

“Good.”

They kissed a while longer. Stede pulled the blankets over them and they writhed together, both too spent to come again, but eager to feel the hot press of each other’s body.

The spectral fingers of first light crept through the curtained window. The fire petered out to a wispy coil of smoke.

“Let me get you breakfast,” Stede said between kisses. “Do you like custard? I have this sudden craving.”

“A craving?” Izzy said drolly. “You don’t say,”

“What about bananas in custard? Or, better yet, mango in custard. Oh fuck it, I’ll have Roach whip up a trifle. And something hot to go with it. Bacon and eggs and mushrooms—the full English! WIth trifle for dessert. I’ll have none of your black coffee and dry toast.”

Izzy sat up and leaned back against the bedhead. “Yeah, well, I probably should scarf at least something down if I’m going to be eating for two.”

Stede sat up next to him. He pulled the blankets up to their chests, not wanting Izzy to catch a chill. Stede wrung his hands. “You… you have gone through the change though, haven’t you?”

Izzy snorted. “Course I have. Got through that shit more than a decade ago, you git.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Even if I hadn’t, you really think your spunk’s so strong it’d get someone pregnant in one fucking go?”

Stede pursed his lips and turned his head away.

“Oh, don’t tell me that’s what happened with your wife. You shag her once and she’s up the duff. And then what, you never shag her again? Christ, Bonnet, no wonder she left you.”

“Hey!” Stede shot back. “I left her.”

“Oh, how valiant. You’re a model fucking spouse.”

Stede folded his arms over the top of the blankets. Izzy put his hands behind his head, looking like the cat that got the cream.

“So why did you say it?” Stede asked.

“About your wife?”

“About getting pregnant.”

“I was playing along, you twat. You really are new at this aren’t you.”

“You were awake the whole time?”

“Fuck no. I woke up with your fucking cock in me. The whole time? Christ alive—what were you doing to me before that?” Izzy yawned. “At least I got a decent fucking night’s sleep, even if it was disturbed.”

Stede wondered if he meant ‘disturbed’ as in interrupted or ‘disturbed’ as in Stede was one supremely disturbed individual. He felt it prudent not to pry.

“But you… you liked it?” he asked instead.

Izzy shrugged. “It was fine.”

They fell into silence again, Stede unsure of what ‘fine’ denoted either.

“Reckon I might go for a nap later,” Izzy said. “Looks to be a warm day out there, so I might not even bother with clothes. Might just sleep spread-eagle right here on your bed. Just passed out, face down.”

“Oh, dear lord,” Stede cried. He felt his cock stirring beneath the blankets.

“And Stede?”

“Yes?”

“Play with both holes next time.” Izzy raised his hands in the air, stretching towards the ceiling. “The back one’s got more give.”