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This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
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Summary
At first, it’s just an irritation. A jiggling foot from too much caffeine, or an unfortunate tic he doesn’t quite have under control. But it just gets worse, and worse, until he’s practically vibrating, every movement sending their little table rocking precariously on the wonky floor. Izzy’s pretentious craft ale sloshes in his glass — seven quid a bloody pint, they’re charging for this swill, and Izzy’s sure as hell not going to let Bonnet upend it ‘cause he can’t sit still.
Because Izzy is… well. An expert, of sorts. And in his considerable expertise, he reckons Bonnet is maybe twenty fucking minutes from pissing himself, in front of everyone he fucking knows and plenty of people he doesn’t.
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Or: Izzy has no idea how he ends up coaching Stede through a piss kink awakening. He really has no idea how he ends up awakening a thing or two of his own to boot.