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The bar was pulsing with the music’s heavy bass.
Edward could feel it in his heartbeat, in his very bones, and it was a good distraction from the bile that soured his mouth.
Izzy had been dragged by Stede to the dance floor, his arms draped over Iz’s shoulders, their bodies pressed together as they moved to the grinding beat.
Fuck.
They were so fucking beautiful.
The lights were flickering and colorful, their mouths were inches from each other’s, lips moving, and Edward wondered what they were saying to each other, if they were thinking about him all, if he mattered in that limited space between them, in their shared breath, in their hips rocking against each other’s.
They weren’t more scandalous than any other couple on the dance floor. The song demanded a certain rhythm to it, a closeness, a shared heat, but they were Edward’s.
They were Edward’s.
Before they left the house tonight, Stede had fucked Edward, bent him over the chaise-lounge in their bedroom, while Izzy thrust into Edward's mouth, made him gag in the thickness of him, the bitterness on his tongue a soothing taste despite its' sourness.
It soothed some frenzied energy inside Edward that had been plaguing him all week, a shivery feeling of wrongness, of coldness, of a strange chillness that left him bereft, adrift, only grounded by the relentless fullness of Stede's cock inside him, battering against his prostate, and Izzy gripping Edward's hair, wrapping the long curls around his fist, thrusting into his mouth with the singleminded focus of quieting Edward's mind.
It was bliss.
It was ownership.
It was giving himself away and into their hands, into their care, and knowing they would tear Edward apart, but that at the end of it, they would put him back together right, his skin finally fitting into his bones properly, and that peace was priceless.
But now, now they didn’t even look his way.
Did he even exist if they weren’t looking at him?
He still felt the ache inside him where Stede's cock had stretched him open. His jaw was still throbbing, his voice a fucked out mess from Izzy's relentless use.
He remained, his feet planted firmly on the ground, and watched.
Watched Izzy kiss Stede, a flash of tongue, the glistening wetness of it, and the way Stede’s brow furrowed in that way of his, when things felt good, too good, and he didn’t know how to process the sensation yet.
The furrow slackened.
There.
There they were.
Lovely men.
Edward pushed through the crowd, past the hot sweaty bodies around him, through the flickering lights and the dancing colors, and approached from the side. He wrapped one arm around each one of their waists, and, even lost in each other, they didn’t tense in response to his arrival - they recognized his touch immediately. Wasn’t that a kick to the teeth? He kissed Stede’s bearded cheek, nuzzled the skin behind Izzy’s ear, and, close now, he could hear the wet noises of their mouths together, the little whimpers coming from Stede, Izzy’s little grunts, and Edward was hard so quick he got dizzy.
They paid him no mind.
There was a time where that would have drove him insane, would have made rip them away from each other, would have him causing a scene, but Edward wasn’t a child anymore, as uncomfortable as it still made him sometimes - the lack of attention, the sharing, they were both his, always his -, it was mainly a heady thing to bear witness to them now.
To bear witness to how much they wanted each other.
To how beautiful they looked together.
Izzy was all dark leathers and jeans, dark hair, small, but strong, all sharp angles. Stede was all color and silks, golden hair, tall, but gentle, all softness. They contrasted each other, a fucking painting of color and want and love, something so perfect Edward felt hesitant to taint it with his presence.
They were his though.
They were his first.
Izzy’s hand reached out and into Edward’s jacket, into the skin of his exposed stomach, up to his tattooed ribcage, and Edward let his head fall into his shoulder.
They didn’t look at him, but what did that matter? Izzy’s hand is pulling him close, resting against the bare skin of his lower back, the touch hidden by Edward’s leather jacket. Stede breaks their kiss just long enough to whisper, to whimper, “Edward…”
Izzy licks into his mouth and speech flees from Stede at a surprising speed.
They’re his.
Edward hides his grin into Izzy’s shoulder.
“Oi, mates, if we’re going to fuck on the dancefloor, I need to know who has the money saved up to post bail for the public indencency charge they’re going to pin on us.” Edward hissed, choking back laughter.
Izzy frowned, pulling away from their kiss to shoot Edward a glare, and Stede took advantaged of the new angle to kiss and bite at the sensitive skin of his neck.
“Fuck.” Izzy’s eyes flutter shut, his head falling backwards, and Edward’s mouth was drier than a desert, drier than the weird biscuits Roach was intent on bringing to the group luncheons, his cock twitching against the fabric of his skirt.
“He’s right. We should probably go home.” Stede mumbled against the bruising skin. “Edward’s skirt, as beautiful as it is, doesn’t do much to hide his current predicament.”
Izzy laughed, head turned towards the ceiling, and the colors bounce off his proud features, off Stede’s golden hair, and Edward was startled by his own awe.
They’re his - Edward didn’t know why the realization that he was theirs too always left him so undone.
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”