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This is what Edward wanted, Izzy keeps reminding himself, as his whole body shrieks in silent alarm.
Silent, because there’s a fine, silken pocket square pulled between his lips and knotted behind his head. It says ‘be quiet’, and implies that he can’t, so of course he has to prove it wrong. He’s not going to let the slightest hiss escape, if he can help it.
He consented, as much as he ever consents to anything. He didn’t say ‘no’, and he’s fully capable of making it clear if something isn’t acceptable and he does so on a regular basis. There’s no such thing as an enthusiastic ‘yes’ for him, just a lack of refusal.
His bedmates understand that. They have to, or he wouldn’t join them.
He knows it hurts Stede in particular, because the man is so damn effusive, but Izzy can’t change the way he understands his whole world. Stede has had to retune his ear to understand that a nod or a grunt or an active movement from him is a firm yes, and not a reluctant one. His dubious attempts are slower nods. His ‘no’ means ‘no, and his ‘fuck no’ means… fuck no.
This was a relatively quick, but brief, duck of the head.
Especially because he’d seen the way Edward sucked his lip in as Stede suggested it. He’d been trying so hard not to pressure Izzy, but clearly very interested, and Izzy was prepared to push his own comfort zone for the kind of look in Edward’s eyes he was getting right now. Plus, he’d seen Stede do similar with Edward, and he’d always…
It had always looked so enjoyed. His Captain would make such decadent noises, would purr and roll and melt at the end. He’d always seem so much more relaxed and satisfied, and whilst Izzy didn’t think he was capable of that himself, he’d wanted to see how close he could get.
There was also the part where Edward is right there, sitting on the couch, watching. He’s fully dressed, the bulge in his pants so very obvious. Izzy likes knowing the effect he has on the other man, and also likes the part where Edward isn’t allowed to touch him. Either of them. That was one of the rules laid out, and so he’ll only intervene if given permission or seriously concerned for Izzy’s wellbeing.
Izzy would never, ever give up so much of his control and freedom without Edward there as his safety net.
The gag was tied so delicately, yet so firmly. Stede had demanded he strip, but slowly. Izzy wasn’t at all self-conscious about his body, other than - well - sometimes his height. But they were all the same height lying down, and he’d more than proven he was just as capable as either of them. He’d removed his clothing, layer by layer, staring Stede right in the eyes as he did so.
Defiant, perhaps. Confident, he hoped. Self-assured.
Not because he was watching the dangerous creature in the room to know what it would do next, to prevent being caught off guard.
Stede definitely appreciates his body, which is… gratifying. He’s not as young as he was, but he knows he’s in good shape. A few nicks here and there, but nothing that impedes his movement or ability. Stede’s always been fascinated by the marks of previous fights, and the marks he and Edward have chosen to have added to themselves. His fingers and tongue will regularly trace them, but today it’s his eyes.
Izzy stands, proudly, despite the gag. He stands as if he isn’t buck-naked and with his voice removed, as if he’s simply reporting for duty. He might have agreed to the acts, but he’s not agreed to any submission alongside them. If Stede wants those things, he’s sure as fuck going to have to earn them.
Compliance is not the same as concession is not the same as surrender.
Stede smiles, and lifts something from the bedside table.
Rope.
Seriously.
The whole ship is full of it, and even the stuff in the rigging is finer quality than most people see in their lives. A decadent waste, if you ask Izzy. There comes a point where you’ve hit satisfactory, and anything over is diminishing returns.
Still.
The bundle of rope in Stede’s hands is clearly more silk, and it’s pristine. It’s never been used to lash down a sail, or moor a ship.
Fucker either bought it for this, or had some kept aside.
It’s also much longer than anything he’s seen Stede use on Edward, which is… concerning. He’s seen - and been involved - when hands were tied, or lashed to something sturdy. Legs pulled apart and anchored in place. A bit on the rougher or more involved side, but nothing that he’s never seen before.
This… this is more.
Izzy doesn’t want to look over to Edward, even when he hears the hissed in-breath. He does not want to look weak, or like he needs reassurance. Instead he finds a fixed spot on the wall over Stede’s shoulder, boring his gaze into it. He’d learned that trick well from Captains gone by: you don’t challenge them directly, but you don’t yield, either.
His own reaction is just…
It’s complicated, and he doesn’t really know what it is. There’s a definite ‘fuck off, no’ because he won’t be in control. But it’s mitigated by the fact that Edward is there, and he wouldn’t ever see Izzy really harmed. And then countered by the part where Edward is also a sadistic bastard, and he knows he himself is more than a little masochistic. Then there’s the part where Stede is an idiot sometimes, though so fucking gunshy that he’d back down before he--
“I need to know this is alright to proceed,” Stede interrupts his tunnelling thoughts.
Izzy would give him the sharp edge of his tongue, but it’s pinned down. So he turns to meet his eyes and huffs.
“If you need to stop, I will ask you to drop this.”
A small, white square of silk. A white fucking flag. He lifts it, and then leans to push it into Izzy’s left hand.
Izzy wants to punch him. A white fucking flag of surrender? Right! Like Izzy would ever willingly give that fucking signal! What a stupid fucking--
“You don’t need to do any of this,” Stede reminds him. “I won’t be hurt.”
Like fuck he won’t. Stede has those stupid puppy-dog eyes and Edward really wants this and fuck why can’t they just screw like normal people and not go all feelings all the damn time?
Izzy snarls an insult that’s understandable enough and screws the white flag up in his fist, making it very clear he’s not throwing the towel in.
The hand that lifts doesn’t strike, doesn’t grab. Izzy flinches as it cups his cheek and a thumb glides along his cheekbone. He’s possessed of an urge to bite at it, but it’s not possible while he’s gagged.
“It’s perfectly fine if you do want to change things. I can always tie up Ed, instead.”
“...don’t tempt me,” Ed barks, from his couch.
Izzy risks a glance over, and sees just how rapt his Captain is. Fuck, but he really is into this, isn’t he? That’s how he sells it to himself when he crosses his wrists behind his back and lifts his chin proudly again.
It’s just fucking sex. It’s fine.
“You look so beautiful like this. I want to make you feel it.”
Fucking stupid-ass line! He’s not some blushing maiden, and--
The rope - the centre point - is suddenly dropped over the back of his neck like a half a hangman’s noose.
Izzy freezes. It is not an association he wants right now, even as the two strands trail down over his chest. His hands work at the white cloth, wanting to rip it up.
Why can’t Bonnet just bugger and blow like normal guys?
“I want to take the burden you carry from you.”
Burden? He’s the fucking burden. Edward Teach is a dream compared to Stede Bonnet. Even Edward’s most mercurial periods had been easier to navigate than Stede’s weird peccadillos, perversions, and predilections. Izzy glares, and refuses to stop glaring, even as Stede’s hands start lacing the lengths around his torso.
For a man who can’t tie a fucking reef knot to save his life, he seems to know these kinds far too well. Maybe it’ll stand him in stead in the future, if they can get him interested enough in--
His mind snaps back to the here and now, annoyed with it for wandering.
“It’s alright, my dear Israel. You don’t need to keep fighting, not when you’re here.”
It’s precisely because he’s here that he does. Don’t they both realise? They’re always fucking something up, and he has to stay on the top of his game to stop some catastrophe emerging. He has to watch everyone and everything. It’s his job, and having two of the feckers to manage has made it--
The ropes slide around his forearms, locking them to the small of his back. He makes tighter fists in frustration as Stede seems to finish whatever-it-is he’s done.
And whatever it is… Izzy gets to see only a moment later, when Ed (theatrically as ever) pulls a flimsy robe away from the full-length mirror, displaying Izzy and Stede in the reflection it casts back into the cabin.
Stede is standing behind him, hands lightly resting on his shoulders. Shoulders that bear the harness-straps that lead down to the criss-crossing pattern that works over his chest, pulling his tits into relief. There’s diamond patterns all over (reasonably even, he begrudgingly admits), and then loops around his upper thighs. The rope crosses over above his dick, and the upper part of his shaft glances against it as it perks up a little higher in response.
Behind him, Stede looks… enthralled. He looks like he sometimes appears when he’s admiring Edward, and Izzy feels uncomfortable under that weight of admiration. He looks to Edward instead, but the same soft, fond rapture is there, and… shit.
He wants to stamp his foot on Stede’s, but the man is still dressed and Izzy is nude. It will just look petulant and achieve nothing. He feels almost like they’re mocking him, even as Stede’s hands start to ghost over his belly and chest, brushing at the edge of hair, pulling his skin to gooseflesh. There’s kisses to his neck and shoulder, and Izzy all but begs Edward with his eyes to make this stop and go back to normal bloody fucking.
But Edward won’t relent. He’s tugging at his own, full lips with his thumb, suggestively sliding it in to suck. It makes Izzy’s dick even harder, because he knows what that mouth is capable of, and he tries to wrench his arms free.
“If this is the only way you’ll let me be soft with you, then this is what I’ll do.”
Stede’s voice… fuck. When he’s in the right mindset, the man could almost equal Blackbeard himself. The problem is it’s inconsistent which version of Stede you’ll get in any one situation, and Izzy can’t rely on someone who might as easily freak out as take command.
When he does hit his stride, though… the part of Izzy that responds to Blackbeard…
Oh, it wakes all the fuck up. It cuts down his spine like a hot knife through cold butter, and he strains at the gag until it cuts into his mouth like a horse with a bit. A hand coils around his cock, and Stede’s fully-dressed erection pressing into him from behind is maddening. As, too, is the one Ed keeps tracing around, making it clear just how full that prick is.
Izzy doesn’t beg, not with words. If he wants, he takes, or makes it clear he wants. Right now he wants either or both of them to put their money where their mouth is, but what he gets instead is more of that teasing, lingering hand that never quite grips hard enough to be satisfying.
“D’you even think he can feel it, when you’re soft?”
Izzy snorts at the unintended innuendo.
“Oh, hah-hah,” Ed snaps back, a little annoyed but not overly. “Gentle, then. Sometimes think the years at sea have made our hides thicker’n a walrus’ arse.”
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Stede suggests, and his next touches are one lone finger-tip. One. Hardly making contact, running from above his sac to the tip of his prick and circling. Round and round and round, until Izzy squirms in protest.
“That’s kinda cheating.”
“If you insist. I’ll leave that alone, then…”
Izzy wants to spit at him. No, he shouldn’t leave his prick alone. He didn’t sign up for fucking cockteasing dickfucks, he signed up for dickfucking cock…things.
Actual, normal fucking.
Not more kisses and kindly words, and not fingertips that circle his nipples and lightly twist and tug and… he will not make noises, other than a low, feral growl. He. Will. Not.
“Alright. So there’s still a lot there,” Ed agrees. “Still not sure he’s responding as nicely as he could be.”
“He doesn’t need to be nice. That’s my job.”
Though ‘nice’ is relative, especially when you’re suddenly being manhandled over to a footstool, plush and nicely upholstered, and bent over, face down.
It’s more humiliating and exposing, but it’s also more familiar. Izzy knows this position, and he spreads his knees and ankles accordingly, presenting himself for what he hopes is to come.
But it doesn’t. It doesn’t, because Stede-fucking-Bonnet is now holding a… seriously? He does growl now, seeing the fucking stupid fancy-feathery-fuck thing he’s holding.
This is not what he signed up for, and he’s about to throw himself sideways when Stede drops to a crouch beside him and holds his face again.
“There is no shame in enjoying yourself, Izzy.”
This isn’t enjoyable, he wants to snarl, but it’s muffled.
“In letting me show you how good certain sensations can feel.”
Like dicks. Dicks are good at sensations. He’s good at dicks. Very good at them. He’d demonstrate right now if Stede wasn’t leaning in to kiss his lips, the lips currently parted around the gag. It’s weird and tastes of silk at the same time as the feel of those lips on his, and the fingers that stroke his hair make him want to fight all over again.
“Fuck me,” Ed whispers, groans, something.
The sheer intensity in his voice makes Izzy yield almost against his own will. He all but gasps into the strange embrace, and then arches when the feathered stick dances light touches down his spine.
“Fuck, but the two of you…”
“Isn’t he gorgeous, Ed?”
Stede tilts his head up with the stick below his chin, and Izzy tries to glare Edward down, and realises it’s another mistake.
“Fucking hell is he ever.”
“All pink and wanting… forced to just let me pour all my attention into him, so you can watch…”
Izzy bangs his knee into the footstool, unable to hold out without some protest for a moment longer.
“You think he likes it?” Ed asks. “He looks pretty pissed off to me.”
“I think he likes being ‘pissed off’,” Stede responds. He’s pulled away from kissing and has paced around behind him, where Izzy can only see him in the reflective surface of that cursed mirror.
He’s bound like a suckling pig, with only his legs free. It’s ridiculous, and if he’s going to have this happen, it should at least do the courtesy of being as firm as it suggests it will be.
“I think you could give him everything he wanted in the world, and he’d respond by being pissed off with you,” Stede continues, stroking zig-zag lines over his back and his bare legs. “He’ll enjoy it at the same time, but - oh - will he hate you for it.”
Izzy snaps a barked rejection at that. He does not hate Blackbeard! Not in the fucking…
Okay, sometimes, but that’s not the point! He tries to buck again, and is prevented from doing so by the man lying full-length over his back. It traps his hands between them, and the weight is oddly comforting at the same time as making breathing hard. His head spins a little, and the best he can do is fumble for Stede’s belt. If he can just encourage him to get with the fucking program…
“Sounds fucking depressing to me, mate.”
“That’s because you’re different.”
This Izzy agrees with. And he nearly chokes trying to say so when there’s a warm, wet tongue between his legs, lapping at his balls.
Fucking… Bonnet! Izzy’s legs try to flail, but unwavering hands hold his buttocks apart as Stede starts to lick up his taint and tease his hole. He’s at least getting on with it now, but the way Stede just ripped his whole psyche like he’s a fucking fortune-telling shyster divining his whole personality from some esoteric power he claims to have.
Izzy doesn’t need to be angry! It’s just the world keeps making him angry! That’s not the same thing.
He drops his head, snorting through his nostrils, trying to enjoy the hand fondling his sac and the tongue slowly whirling him open. It’s too dainty, too delicate, but it does feel good. If too… little.
“Fuck… do you know how hard you both make me?” Edward’s voice cracks. “How fucking much I love you both? Shit, you’re… shit...”
Izzy feels his face flush. With no one touching him, no one is distracting Edward from pouring words out, and that’s a very dangerous thing indeed. Stede is the one brimming with poetry and allusion, but Edward is the one who will pour his heart and soul out at a moment’s notice.
The man is a monster.
He doesn’t even have the decency to keep that for when Izzy’s out of the room, or has fallen asleep. Izzy doesn’t do that shit, and it makes him feel uncomfortable because… because he doesn’t do it.
He doesn’t think in stanzas and allegory and love letters. He thinks in actions and deeds and dedication. Devotion. His behaviour speaks for itself, and if they can’t read between the lines that’s on fucking them and not him. If he’s not good enough, they can fuck right off.
“Love watching you take. You’re always giving so damn much, you never let us return the favour, Iz. You run the fuck away if we ever try, so of course we have to tie you down so you can’t.”
Edward keeps talking as Stede keeps stroking with tongue and hands, and Izzy needs to get the fuck out of this. Needs to escape, because he feels dangerously exposed. They can do this shit on their own time, and call him back when they want a man of his talents and tricks.
“You don’t want to let us love you.” Edward rises, pacing closer. He moves to kneel next to Izzy’s face, one hand playing with his sweat-drenched hair. “But we’re going to do it anyway.”
Stede’s tongue goes all the way inside at that, his nose pushed so far into his arse-crack that it nearly hurts. Izzy bucks, shocked, and nearly drops the flag unthinkingly.
Nearly drops it on purpose when Edward moves, falling to the floor and positioning himself somewhere he can’t even see in the mirror.
All he can see is legs and torso, but he can sure as hell feel where those lips meet. Ed sloppily licks around Stede’s mouth as Stede continues to rim him, then he’s bumping their noses likely as he takes Izzy’s cock into his own mouth.
He does scream, and kick, and have to be held down. It’s far too much for him to deal with when he can’t do anything in return, just lie there and allow them to pleasure him. It feels wrong to be the centre of all their attention, to feel their hands slide over his hips and their mouths work in soft, wet, moaning unison to bring his body to the brink.
There’s tears in his reflected self’s eyes. Tears that drip down his cheeks as he continues to fight every last flicker of attention, desperate to get them to move and let him take one or both of them inside him instead. Anywhere. Anywhere! He’d let them both fuck him in the ass if they’d only do it, but they seem intent on making him climax without offering him any of themselves.
They aren’t supposed to serve him. They aren’t supposed to spend so much time on him. The inside of his head is thunderously loud, and no one is talking, so all he can hear is the muffled noises of pleasure and frustration (his), as his Captains work diligently to bring him to the edge.
He can’t last long like this, and it’s to his shame when he suddenly spills, his dick pumping furiously into Edward’s mouth. His ass clenching around Stede’s tongue. His balls twitching between the joined hands that knead him all the way through each pulsing wave of bliss.
Fuck, but it feels good and terrible all at once. He’s spent faster than he has any right to, his eyes jammed shut in shame that he’s let them do this. Even though they want to, it feels wrong of him to let them.
He stays there, shuddering, as he feels them trade kisses and licks between his thighs. It’s so fucking wrong, but the moans reverberate and make his aching dick wish it wasn’t spent, or that they’d stop.
“He was such a good boy for us, wasn’t he, Ed?”
Izzy is too tired to kick Stede in the head for that, and also in a bad position. He might accidentally kick Edward, so he gruffs in protest instead.
“He was… I think he can do one more thing for us, though.”
Izzy can’t help but perk up at that. Finally! He might actually get to fucking participate instead of be used like this! He’s about to get excited when he hears the two rise, and start to unravel clothing.
There’s a moment before he remembers he can watch with the mirror, and then he sees them standing behind him. Both of them start to take turns in fingering his ass with the remnants of his own jizz, but when they aren’t doing that they’re trading kisses and stroking one another off.
Fucking…!
There isn’t even any words, now, and Izzy is beyond pissed that all he can do is watch and submit to the digits that tease his over-worked and under-used asshole.
Fucking… fucking…
Ed finishes first. He’s turned to stand behind Izzy, watching his eyes in the mirror. Stede behind him, biting his neck and jerking him off until it’s all over Izzy’s back, without ever giving him the slightest inch of it.
It’s horrible, and wicked, and fuck, but Stede’s got a monster in him after all. Izzy can’t help but admire it, even as Ed scoops up the next round and pushes it up inside along with the remnants of Izzy’s own load.
He’s ready to spit blood when Stede finally relents. The man glides his cock home in the wake of his lovers’ enjoyment, and Izzy groans in satisfaction. He can’t spurt again so soon, but it’s so gloriously good to be full. Full, and fucked good, and firm, and hard. It stretches and fills and eases at tensions he long forgot were there, making him melt between lifts of his hips to accommodate more.
Without the rush of an impending orgasm, it’s…
Fuck. It’s nice.
When Stede finally lets him have it, he’s barely holding on to the scrap of white. He’s forgotten it’s there, just… sleepily taking whatever he’s offered.
He doesn’t process when the ropes are untangled, or the gag. One minute he’s full of dick, the next he’s miraculously curled up between two now-naked men. Their arms and legs and chests cradle him, and he can feel their heartbeats slowly easing around him.
Edward was the one who convinced him, but Izzy… hmmm. Izzy thinks it might actually have been just what he needed, after all.