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Izzy doesn't know how or when or why he agreed to this, but he's here. Of all the twisted, fucked up things he's seen and done, this doesn't even rank in the top ten, but it’s still fucked up. He’s fucked up for participating, he must be.
He wasn't ordered. That much was clear from the outset. Participation was voluntary, Bonnet had made sure that he knew that. He didn’t have to be there if he didn’t want it. As if he didn’t want it. He shouldn't want it. Should have some fucking moral backbone. Some decency. Some standards. Healthy boundaries. But he’d agreed, eyes open, because fuck if this isn’t the closest he’s going to get to this, to them. He’s a coward, too cowardly to say what he wanted, but when offered something that might be even remotely close to it, he agreed. Because he’s selfish, that’s what he is. Selfish enough to take anything Ed will give him, orders, malice, kindness, his own fucking toe, no matter how utterly debased.
Which is why he's naked in the captain's quarters, a few strides away from the window bed, where Ed and Stede fucking Bonnet are also currently naked.
“Be a good boy, Izzy,” Bonnet says over his shoulder, “and stay.”
So Izzy stays. Stays like a fucking dog on the floor, kneeling on a throw cushion like a pampered fucking poodle. Izzy stays on the floor, while up on the bed, Bonnet fucks Ed from behind like a dog himself.
There’s a bow tied around Izzy’s neck, purple satin ribbon, and another tight around the base of his cock and balls. Bonnet's doing. All perfunctory, really, the way Bonnet touched him only as necessary, each bow done with a flourish. Perhaps not all perfunctory. Extraneous moments littered this preparation , Bonnet's gentle smile, Ed's knowing smirk, a wink, a palm cradling his jaw, a thumb stroking his cheek, the ghost of a kiss to his crown.
He took it all uncomplaining.
But truly. How did it come to this? How the fuck did it come to this? To him, kneeling on the floor, treated like a dog, worse than, watching his captain, his-
No.
He stops himself there, before the cliff face ends and meets the gloomy waters below. Ed's not his. If anything, he's Ed's. Bonnet's too. And he's here, naked and kneeling, to watch Ed get fucked in the captain’s bed by that fucking ponce, reminding him with every thrust that Ed is not Izzy's, he never was.
"Izzy," Ed rasps, half muffled by the pillows. "Izzy, you watching?"
"Yeah. Yeah I'm watching." As if he could fucking look away right now.
Ed’s faced away from him, held down by a firm hand. The fact that the fearsome Blackbeard is letting himself be pinned, manhandled, fucked, by that pompous twat, makes him burn with fury. It isn't right, isn't proper, isn't how this is supposed to be.
His cock strains against its confines regardless.
"You jealous right now?" Ed asks, fucking goads.
Jealous. Jealous? Bile rises in his throat, bitter like betrayal.
Is he jealous? Of who? Of Bonnet, touching Ed like Izzy can only dream of, fucking owning the fearsome Blackbeard like no man can ever claim? Jealous of being allowed so close, closer than close? Jealous of the trust placed in Bonnet to give Ed everything he needs and more to fall apart in the most breathtaking of ways?
Jealous of Ed, getting held down and taken by someone surprisingly capable, given it so good it's making Ed sound like a fucking whore? He's overheard Ed fucking and being fucked before, enough to know the difference between the two just by the sound. Knows how Ed sounds when he's faking, exaggerating, putting on his own brand of fuckery for whatever partner or partners he's chosen. Knows the sound of Ed coming apart, tearing at the seams, and he's making it right now, unapologetic and undeniable.
Is he jealous of the pair of them, fucking, touching, being touched, while he sits here alone, tied up in satin ribbon and orders, aching for it all? Jealous of the heat of a body pressed against his own, giving pleasure and receiving pleasure in return? Jealous of being held, taken, made to take everything that he longs for but cannot ask? Yes. To all of it, yes. "Yeah."
"Good." Izzy can practically hear his grin. Bastard. Izzy wonders just how much of this was Ed's idea. For a man who seemed so clueless to Izzy's desire for so long, he's strung together something that's setting every single one of Izzy's nerves alight. Wonders how much of it is Bonnet's input, how much Bonnet knows, or guesses, correctly about him. Wonders how much he might like to be known by the posh prick, if the pleasure and pain teasing every inch of his being is anything to go by.
His eyes are glued to the bed, anyway. How could he fucking look away, jealousy or not. He was told to watch, not to touch, so he will.
Bonnet takes his hand from the back of Ed's neck and slides it under Ed's torso. The pitch of his whine, the arch of his back, it's clear as day, despite Izzy not being able see it, that Stede's fisting Ed's cock, hard and fast, with each and every thrust. Fuck, Izzy wants it. Wants to stroke Ed's cock just like that. Wants someone to touch his own. Wants to wrap his mouth around it, wants it anywhere Ed would give it to him. Wants and wants and wants.
Partly free, Ed shifts position on the bed, face turned away from the window, now toward Izzy. He fucking winks at Izzy, the bastard. Fucking tease. "Izzy," he says, "keep watching."
Ed wants him to see this. Ed wants to be seen. Ed wants to watch Izzy watch him. Wants Izzy to see him like this, and fuck, Izzy can hardly contain himself. But he does. He was told to. Ordered. And he'll obey an order from his captains until his dying breath.
"Fuck, Stede," Ed cries out, but he's looking right at Izzy through half-lidded eyes. He must be so painfully close. Izzy chews the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check.
"That's it," Bonnet says, "I want you to come apart, so prettily, for me. I want him to see how good I make you feel. Can you do that for me?"
Ed nods, fervent. Izzy finds himself nodding, too. He wants to see it. Wants to know it. Wants to have it, even if he has to share.
He doesn't have to wait long. Ed keens, back arching, and it's the most addictive thing Izzy's witnesses. Fuck, he wants to taste.
Stede keeps fucking, drawing a litany of sounds from Ed, until he groans, hips stuttering, then coming to a halt.
Stede pulls out and Ed slumps, boneless, to the mattress, his blissful face half-obscured by the veil of his salt-and-pepper curls. Christ, Izzy wants to kiss him, wants to sweep the hair out of Ed's eyes and kiss him.
"He watched it all," Ed informs Stede, "I told you he would."
Pride wells in Izzy's chest. He did as he was told. He was good. He's still aching hard and tied up in ribbon, kneeling on the floor like a fucking dog, watching the man he loves and the man he loathes fuck, just like he was told.
"Very good." Stede turns to Izzy. "Do you know what good boys get, Izzy?"
Izzy shakes his head.
Stede's grin widens. "A treat. Come here."
So Izzy crawls toward the bed, toward his captains beckoning him closer, cock and balls aching between his shaking legs. It's fucking humiliating, but the look in Bonnet's eyes as he obeys, crawls, comes when called, is worth it.
Even more so when Ed calls him, "good boy," as he returns to his kneeling position, now beside the bed.
Ed reaches out for him with a lazy arm and Izzy lets him. Doesn't expect Ed to start stroking his hair idly, like petting dog, and fuck, Izzy preens at the attention much the same. When has Ed ever been so tender with him? When has anyone?
Bonnet slips from the bed and joins Izzy on the floor. He holds out his hand, palm up, eyebrow cocked expectantly. It takes Izzy a moment too long to cotton to the fact that it's Ed's come coating Stede's hand, and what exactly it is Bonnet's expecting of him. Fuck.
Izzy dives in without a second thought, tongue lapping up the mess, his treat.
"Fuck, that's hot," Ed groans.
Izzy cock agrees. He desperately wants to touch himself, take away the pressure, but no, he can't . Bonnet strung him up and made sure that it's only by his and Ed's hand that he'll get any relief. He takes Stede's fingers in his mouth, one at a time, sucks them like he would a prick, hoping to get the point across.
Instead, Izzy bites back a frustrated moan as Stede withdraws his hand.
"Good boy," Bonnet says, and the frustration melts away a little bit. "Now lets take care of this, shall we?" In one swift movement, Bonnet unties the bow around his cock and balls. Fuck, it's instant, the overwhelming pain, arousal, and the feeling of toomuchtoomuchtoomuch. He squirms away from Bonnet's touch, ashamed by both the action and the fucking whimper that he makes.
"Shhh," Ed hushes, his touch firmer now, more grounding. Izzy melts, relents. Always relents to Ed.
"It's alright," Bonnet tells him, and Izzy believes him, despite himself. "Let me make it better." Bonnet wraps a hand around Izzy’s cock, firm and slick and sure.
It’s pure relief, Bonnet’s steady touch, and the sound that slips from Izzy’s lips would embarrass him in any other circumstance. He should be, the whole charade is fucking humiliating. He can’t bring himself to be embarrassed, though, not with how good it feels to be touched, touched by someone who knows what they’re doing, by someone who wants to be touching him. Maybe he still is embarrassed. Maybe that makes it even better.
"Good," Stede encourages, and it fucking melts Izzy a little more. He's being good. He can be good, right?
"You've done so well for us," Bonnet tells him, "been such a good boy."
Izzy shakes his head, frantic, because fuck, no, he hasn't been good, not for a moment in his life. He doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve any of this. Doesn't deserve to be kept alive after what he's done, doesn't deserve Ed's touch or Ste- Bonnet's praise. His eyes sting at the edges, and fuck, no, he won't cry like this. He won’t.
"Hey, none of that." There's no anger in Bonnet's voice, though, no pity. "You've followed orders so well, from both your captains. Obedience is important for a pup, and once we’ve got that down-pat, you’ll be capable of fine things.”
“Might even let you on the bed,” Ed teases, still stroking Izzy’s hair, and fuck, it’s sweet and mean and perfect. Izzy sees himself, caught between two lovers and the softest bed linens he's ever felt. Sees himself poised by the edge of the bed, between his captains and the door, a dagger in his hand, a guard dog ready to defend. Sees himself curled up at the foot of the bed, their bed, and finds himself content with the image.
Maybe he can be good, be better. Maybe he can accept this, if he tries. Maybe he can, if Ed and Stede help him. Maybe he can, if he allows himself to.
Bonnet’s hand speeds up, his other reaching down between Izzy’s legs to cup his aching balls. There's no point trying to hide the cries slipping from his tongue.
"There are two things I expect from a good pup: obedience and loyalty. I know you're capable of both, Izzy. You just need to remember who you belong to. Who looks after you. Who owns you."
It's not a question, but he answers anyway. "You. You do."
Bonnet fucking beams at him. “There you are,” Bonnet says with far too much kindness. Izzy can't take it. He must.
He slumps forward, head pillowed on Stede’s shoulder, tears spilling across his skin as he spills over Stede's steady hands. Fucking pathetic.
Stede hushes him, holds him, works him through it, until he’s well and truly wrung dry. Ed’s hand is still in his hair, anchoring him to reality, which is good because Izzy's not sure he won't float away without it.
After an eternity, Izzy pulls back. Not far, just enough to cast a glance up at Bonnet, evaluate the situation. Doesn't expect Bonnet to reach up and wipe the last of tears from his eyes. Izzy lets him do it anyway.
“How was that?” Stede asks, concern in his eyes. “Were we too harsh with you?”
Far from it. If anything, too gentle. Izzy hasn’t the faintest fucking clue what to do with gentle, but he’s got a sneaking suspicion that if this thing continues, he might learn.
Izzy shakes his head.
"Good. You did so well for us, Izzy. Let's get you cleaned up, hey?" Stede reaches up to untie the bow around his neck.
Izzy flinches. Freezes. Fuck, he was supposed to be good. Panic churns in his gut.
"It's alright," Bonnet hushes, "I just-"
"No." Izzy can't say it, can't ask for it. He doesn't know how.
He glances up at Ed, desperate, and finds the man smiling, dark eyes alight. He understands, he must, he has to know by now.
"Let him keep the bow, for now," Ed tells Stede. "It'll do until we can find him a proper collar."
FIN