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Jack has Ed engrossed in conversation where they sit across the table, wholly ignoring Izzy’s presence and the deep frown which has settled across his face. It’s distinct from his everyday scowl, and he finds it cathartic to put on. Izzy takes tiny, frequent sips of his ale, trying in vain to will away his annoyance at being forced to patronize this poor excuse for a watering hole in the first place.
They only have one more day in Port-au-Prince before they have to be back on the ship and ready to set southward to God knows where, back at the mercy of their captain’s whims. This has been a short leave, just the three days, and the first two, he hardly saw Ed at all, on opposite rotations for port watch duty, one of them always on the ship. For the first time in weeks, he had the chance to spend time with Ed, out from under the watchful eyes of the crew (on a ship where one could scarcely find the solitude for a peaceful shit), and here is Jack Fucking Rackham screwing it all up.
“Eddie, Eddie,” Jack begins through his laughter, “who do you think would win in a fight: a hundred turtles with knives strapped to their shells or a thousand of those tiny burrowing crabs with pistols?”
“How the fuck are the crabs holding the pistols?”
“Obviously we’ve trained them to hold the pistols.”
Ed strokes his stubbled chin, deep in thought. “So we supply the crabs with custom made, tiny little pistols–”
“With tiny little bullets and tiny little ramrods, of course,” Jack says, nodding and maintaining an impressive air of seriousness.
“–and we train them to hold the tiny pistols, and presumably to aim and fire them–”
“Naturally.”
“–and how to reload, so they have enough bullets to break the turtle shell…I think it has to be the crabs on this one. Advantage of long-range attacks. If it was a fist fight, then it’d be the turtles no doubt.”
“Turtles don’t have fists,” Jack says distractedly as he sucks down a long gulp of whatever’s in his mug.
“And crabs don’t have guns, so what’s your point?” Ed tosses back.
Izzy slams his now empty mug down on the table, gaining the boys’ attention for the first time in the last hour. “I need another drink,” he mumbles, and slinks off his stool toward the bar.
While he waits for his refill of the pisswater that passes for beer in a place like this, he looks out the window to his right. The daylight is fading quickly, even with the near-constant exposure to some amount of sun at this latitude, and Izzy feels his opportunity to follow through on his embarrassingly thought-out plan slipping through his fingers.
A short hike past the edge of town, into the dense greenery of the jungle of the island, there’s a massive waterfall with a swimming hole that stays blissfully cool year-round. Izzy’d stumbled upon it years ago, while running from the muscle employed by the local inn without regard for his destination (after a translation error had made his request for a room from the squat, surly woman at the desk seem like he was asking to stay the night in her room). It’s peaceful, it’s beautiful, and best of all, it’s utterly devoid of idiots like Jack. He’s gone back to that spot every time they’ve docked in Port-au-Prince in the six years since, and this time, he wants to take Ed with him.
When he returns to the table with a full mug and a growing sense of restless urgency, he finds only Jack.
“Where’d Edward go?”
“Oh, Eddie had to take a leak, he gets real pissy when he drinks,” Jack says. Izzy tries and fails not to let bother him the obvious familiarity with Ed from which Jack seems to be purposefully excluding him.
“Hmph.”
Jack lets the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “What’s got your panties in a twist today, Izzy?”
Izzy hates that Ed’s nickname for him has caught on with the rest of the crew. He knows Jack uses it specifically to irritate him. He hates even more that he can’t exactly use it to have Jack punished for insubordination, not when he lets Edward and the others get away with calling him “Izzy” on deck more and more often these days.
“Nothing, just don’t feel like spending my shore leave drinking this shit,” Izzy says and downs another unpleasant mouthful.
“So go, you know I can provide Ed with plenty good company,” Jack says with a fiendish grin.
Izzy gives him an unimpressed look.
Of course he knows that Ed and Jack used to fool around; they were never very subtle. But even though he and Ed never talked about it, Izzy noticed when he stopped slinking off to conveniently disappear with Jack a few weeks ago, around the same time he’d given Izzy the shirt which had snowballed into whatever tenuous arrangement they have now. One where Ed sleeps in Izzy’s quarters every night he’s not on watch, where his extra pants and his notebook full of charcoal doodles and his spare pocketknife now live under Izzy’s bunk. Where Izzy begins each morning with a mouthful of black curls made frizzy by the Caribbean humidity and a sticky patch of half-dried drool on his bare chest. Where Ed will occasionally wake up before him and grind his partial morning wood into Izzy’s hip until they’re both panting and groaning and shoving their smalls out of the way to get their hands on more skin.
They haven’t talked about it, but God, is it good.
Jack seems unsatisfied with Izzy’s lack of response to his goading. “You fucked him yet?”
Izzy takes another drink of his ale and continues staring toward the window to watch the world outside grow golden.
Jack is undeterred. “You’re missing out if you haven’t. Eddie’s a great lay, takes it real easy. I need barely a few minutes to get him writhing on my dick begging, ‘Jack, please, fuck me harder, I need it harder, please, Jack,’ God, it’s so whiny, got to shove a few fingers in his mouth to keep him quiet, give him something to suck on–”
“Is there a point to this?” Izzy grumbles out, projecting calm disinterest. He knows his face is flushing, and he ignores the way his prick has taken notice of the change in topic.
Jack’s cocky grin drops as he stares him down. “Yeah, mate, the point is I want to know what you’re after. Because, Eddie, he’s a dreamer. He wants things, big things.”
“I know, he wants to captain his own ship, rule the ocean, he’s told me all this.”
“Not what I meant.” Jack looks over his shoulder towards the door where Edward will no doubt reappear soon. “Ed’s a soft touch. Wants more than what most pirates are after when they get a fuckbuddy on the ship. Wants different things than most men do. You get me?”
For a moment, Jack looks serious, almost protective. Izzy eyes him appraisingly.
“And what’s that got to do with anything?”
“My point is, don’t be surprised when Eddie starts saying shit to you that you’re not ready to hear. And don’t fucking tell anybody about the way he is. Kid would get eaten alive on a ship like Hornigold’s if the crew knew how soft he is under that gorgeous, fuckable exterior.”
Izzy breathes deeply through his nose and holds Jack’s glare. As much as Izzy resents receiving any kind of life advice from Jack Fucking Rackham, there’s an acknowledgement in their gaze, some kind of unsteady truce.
Ed arrives back at the table with his eyes a little glassy from the booze and his trousers only half-tied. He blinks a few times and looks between Izzy and Jack, where the tension of the previous conversation lingers.
“Am I interrupting something?” Ed ventures.
Jack breaks the eye contact first. “Of course not, Eddie, Izzy here was just about to tell me if he’s ever taken it up the ass!” Jack conjures up, tone light and genial, as though the last few minutes of serious, concerned Jack had been a different man entirely.
“None of your business–” Ed starts.
“Of course I haven’t–” Izzy scoffs, simultaneously.
Ed and Izzy both stop to look at each other, and Izzy couldn’t figure out the meaning behind Ed’s expression if he was offered a million dubloons and a King’s pardon.
Jack clears his throat and stands from the table, saying, “Well gentlemen, this has been fun, but I have an appointment with a lady at the brothel next door who is very, very talented with her tongue, so I won’t be seeing you until we pull up the anchor tomorrow.” Jack gives a lazy salute and takes his leave, neither man paying him any attention.
Rays of pink streak across the sky, and it’ll be dark soon, so ignoring the lingering awkwardness, Izzy blurts out, “I want to show you something.”
It takes three times that Ed nearly face-plants as he stumbles over the dense brush for Izzy to realize he’s doing it on purpose. Each time, Izzy shoots his hand out to his left and grabs Ed by the bicep to keep him from falling, and after the third near-miss, he just leaves his hand there, gripping Edward just above the elbow, loosely enough that it almost feels…friendly. Affectionate. In any case, the guise of keeping steady the tipsy young man he’s leading up a steep hill is reason enough for Izzy to justify the casual touch to himself. Judging by the satisfied smirk on Ed’s face, he’s not displeased by it either.
“It’s not much farther, just into that clearing,” Izzy says after they’ve been walking in silence for some time.
Ed gives him the warm smile of someone just on the right side of sloshed. “I’d go with you to the moon if you wanted, Izzy Hands,” he murmurs.
Izzy feels a glowing warmth settle in his chest at Ed’s words and holds his mouth shut. He can feel the change in Edward’s demeanor when they come into view of the waterfall, his brown eyes going wide and mouth dropping open as he takes it in.
“Izzy, look at that! It’s fucking amazing!”
“You think so?” Izzy asks without any real insecurity. He knew Ed would love it here.
Ed doesn’t reply, instead choosing to pull free of Izzy’s grasp and sprint the remaining 20 yards to the edge of the swimming hole, already shedding his clothes with all traces of drunken clumsiness gone. Izzy laughs and continues strolling along at a pace kinder to his knees with already three decades of use.
By the time Izzy reaches the reeds on the shallow end of the pool, Ed is already floating on his back, naked as the day he was born and enjoying the cool spray from the nearby falls. He notices Izzy’s arrival quickly and swims over.
“Aren’t you going to join me in here Mr. Hands?” Ed stands in the shallow water and poses in what he must think is a seductive way, awkward and silly enough that it wouldn’t have worked on anyone else, anyone who wasn’t already unbelievably taken with him.
“Aye, just taking my time,” Izzy says, not bothering to hide the way he takes in Ed’s dripping form. “Gotta look out for any pistol-carrying crabs on in the sandbank.” Izzy’s unable to squash the tiny smile that pulls at his lips. He begins the long process of stripping out of his leathers, his clothes, and finally his smalls.
After checking that both his and Ed’s weapons are safely gathered where they could reach them quickly if needed, he walks around the edge of the pond. He climbs ungracefully up onto a rock which juts out over the water’s surface, at least ten feet up, and he can feel Ed’s eyes tracking him. Unable to resist showing off just a little, Izzy take two steps and leaps off the rock, falling into the water in a dive that cuts cleanly through the still surface. The deep water in the center of the pool is dark, but clear enough that he can see to swim over to where Ed treads. Izzy grabs his ankles, pulling Edward down sharply to propel himself towards the surface.
Ed pops up out of the water seconds after him, and Izzy’s already bursting with laughter at the outraged look on Edward’s face, surrounding by a mess of sopping wet hair that makes him look less than fearsome.
“That was an ambush! Entirely unprofessional!” Ed exclaims, and Izzy only laughs harder, imagining that if they were on land, Ed would certainly be stamping his foot like a frustrated toddler.
“Oh, I’ll show you unprofessional, Teach,” Izzy drawls as he moves closer to Ed, intentionally showing a dark, hungry look in his eye. When he’s close enough to touch and Edward is leaning forward, staring at his prominent chest with his mouth hanging slightly open, Izzy cups his hands together over the surface and shoves down, forcing a spout of cool water up through the gap in his fingers to spray Ed in the face.
Ed gapes at him, looking dazed for a moment before launching forward and tackling Izzy below the surface. They push and pull at each other, surprisingly evenly matched in strength, but Ed uses his height to his advantage when he swipes at Izzy’s knees below the water, toppling him backwards.
Eventually their wrestling devolves into childishly splashing water back and forth as they get tired, and half an hour later, the two men drag themselves out onto the large, flat rocks on the northern bank of the pond. Panting, Ed flips onto his back while Izzy props himself up on his elbows, enjoying the feeling of the sun-warmed stone on his belly. Ed looks over at him and starts giggling again, and Izzy huffs a laugh along with him as he turns his gaze toward the waterfall.
“There’s one more thing you should see.”
“Oh, I think I’ve got everything I need to lay eyes on right here,” Ed says, and smacks Izzy’s ass. Izzy grins and brushes his hands away with fake annoyance.
“Come on, you ingrate, you’ll like this, I promise.”
They both pull on their smallclothes and trousers, leaving the rest of their stuff stashed between the rocks and a particularly dense shrub.
Izzy goes first, making the steep climb through the trees with Ed trailing right behind. Izzy flings one leg over the top of the ledge as the pulls himself up, then reaches back down to offer his hand to Edward. He smiles and grasps it tightly, though Izzy’s sure he doesn’t really need any help. Once they’re both on solid ground, Izzy sits down facing the way they came, cross legged and close to the edge. Ed lets out a soft “woah” when he turns to see what Izzy’s looking at.
They’d just barely beat the sunset when climbing up here. The cliff faces west, and the brilliant pinks, oranges, and a hint of purple spread out over a sky that looks massive, seeming to stretch endlessly in all directions. They can just see a sliver of the town beyond the jungle, where it slopes down to the water, and sun hangs low behind it, as though it’s sitting on the surface of the sea. The waterfall seems smaller from up here, the river that feeds it to their left, rushing along relentlessly to its drop. There are a thousand sounds from a thousand different animals and insects, and Edward’s mouth is still agape when he plops down next to Izzy.
“What do you think? I found this place a few years ago, make it a point to come back every time we get shore leave here. I like the swimming hole, but the view and the quiet and the lack of people is really what–”
“Izzy…it’s amazing. It’s beautiful.” Edward still seems awed when he turns to look at Izzy.
“Yeah, well, it’s my favorite place in the world. Figured you should see it.”
Izzy picks at the green moss by his knee, keeping his eyes down, fearful that he’s already given away too much, until he feels a hand on his cheek. Ed gently turns his head, bringing their faces so very close. “It’s beautiful,” he repeats, not looking away from Izzy’s eyes.
He can’t respond to that, not in any way that feels like enough, so Izzy kisses him hard instead. Ed’s fingers tangle in his shorter hair as he kisses him back, gentling the contact until it’s just a soft, dry touch of lips. He presses their foreheads together for a beat, then pulls away and leans back on his hands, watching the sun slowly sink down past the horizon.
Ed’s voice, soft as it is, startles him after the long silence. “Why did you become a pirate?”
Izzy blows out a long breath. “Why does anyone become a pirate? Just had no other choice.”
“Nah, there are plenty of less-than-desirable ways to make a living if you’re short on career options. Could always just steal shit on land.” Ed sounds genuinely curious, his words purposefully devoid of judgement, and maybe that’s why Izzy decides to be honest with him.
“You know already that I wasn’t always a pirate, that I was in the Navy first.”
“Yeah, I did know.”
“So, there you go. Signed up for the Navy so I could send the wages back to my mom and sisters, crossed the Atlantic, lived the brutally unfair life of a Navy deckhand until one day my ship was attacked and then I was living the brutally unfair life of a pirate deckhand.” Izzy shrugs. “Just so happened that the pirate ship had more advancement opportunities for a kid with no connections but a hell of a swordarm and the discipline to keep my head down and learn.”
“You have sisters?”
Izzy says nothing, just stares out at the fading streaks of light from the sunset and hopes that Ed will get the message.
Ed says, “I never had any siblings. My mom told me once that I was supposed to have an older brother, but he didn’t make it.” He frowns, picking at a patch of dried mud stuck to the hem of his smalls. “Why the Navy, though?”
“Jesus, Edward, you never stop asking questions, do you,” Izzy says with more irritation than he really feels. “I just…felt comfortable taking orders. Losing our dad early, I had to make a lot of decisions for my mom and sisters all the time, big decisions. I just didn’t want to be in charge of anything anymore. Wanted to have clear expectations to meet every day, and know that if I fulfilled those, I could sleep at night without worrying about everything else in the fucking world. And, you know, the steady paycheck. To send back to them.”
Edward seems to absorb the information for a long while. Eventually he looks up at Izzy again with what seems to be, to him, a pressing question, “Is that why you don’t want to be captain?”
Izzy huffs a laugh without humor. “You know, not everyone wants to be a captain.”
Ed’s expression tells him that he’s never seriously considered that possibility. Izzy wearily tries to remember what it was like to be 20 years old and ready to conquer the world. He’s not sure he ever felt that way.
Edward seems to want to say more, but he’s holding himself back; for what reason, Izzy doesn’t know. What he does know is that it’ll be dark soon, and the trek back down the cliff is tricky even in the daylight.
“Come on, let’s go back to town.” Izzy clears his throat. “I, uh, I have a hotel room for the night. Couldn’t resist blowing the coin to sleep on a real mattress for once.”
The look Ed gives him says he sees right through his explanation, but that he’s too pleased about it to call Izzy out on the lie. His smile is infectious, and together they scramble down the cliff much faster than Izzy ever has heading back to his bed alone.
The door to the room slams shut with Izzy pressed back against it and Ed kissing him like he couldn’t care less if Izzy ever gets to breathe again. He’d sprung for the room at the end of the hallway, both for the privacy and for the small window that looks out toward the docks, toward the sea. Izzy finds it disorienting to be out of sight of the ocean, like his center of gravity is off, though right now he feels as if his entire existence revolves around the man devouring his mouth like it’s his last meal.
The room also happens to have one very large bed in the center.
Izzy’s hands tangle in Ed’s wild hair, still damp at the roots from their swim earlier. Ed is holding up Izzy’s left leg against his hip like he’s a damn lass, but the angle it provides them to grind against each other feels too good to complain. Ed’s tongue is plunging into his mouth like he owns the place, and the firm grip on Izzy’s jaw gives him leverage to kiss Izzy until he’s a quaking mess of arousal and need.
“You said you like taking orders, right, Iz?” Ed mumbles as he moves to bite at the cords of Izzy’s neck.
“Only if I’ve got good reason to, Teach,” Izzy says with a hint of a challenge in his voice.
Ed pulls back far enough to give him a wicked grin and drops his leg. “Here’s your reason, because I’ll make it worth your while, how about that? Strip, and get on the bed,” Ed commands. Izzy studies his face carefully from where he stands, still pressed up against him.
Edward’s blatant confidence fans the flames of his arousal, making his stomach clench in a way he’s not used to, as someone who gives and takes orders every day. Even in his trysts with the few male prostitutes he’d come across, in shady back rooms of no-name establishments a long walk from the main port, Izzy’d always been the one in charge of the transaction. Now he’s losing control of the situation faster than he’d come to expect even from Edward, but instead of making him wary, he feels more turned on than he can ever remember being.
Maybe it’s because he’s choosing to be here, to give up his control. Ed has no real power here, he’s lower in the ranks of the ship and Izzy’s not paying for his company. But Ed’s still steadily gazing down at him, the tiniest hint of a question in his eyes, and that more than anything is what makes Izzy want to let go.
He steps around Edward, moving towards the center of the room, and begins to untie his outer layers. With shaking hands, he places his sword and scabbard, knife, and glove on the table in the corner, choosing to ignore the insistent voice in the back of his head saying he’s leaving himself defenseless. Izzy turns back to face Ed as he unbuttons his loose black shirt, letting it slip off his shoulders and folding it carefully before placing it on top of his weapons. When he goes to untie his tidy cravat, Edward stops him.
“Not that. Leave that on,” Edward says, voice still careful, clearly trying not to spook Izzy.
Izzy just nods and moves on to his boots and pants. When he stands in only his underwear and the cravat, he looks to Ed for approval.
Ed nods, an amazed, almost reverent look on his face, like he can’t believe Izzy listened to him with such ease. “That’s perfect, Iz. Now just lie back on the bed.”
Izzy steps slowly to the left side of the bed and crawls to the middle, laying on his back with his head on the lumpy pillows wrapped in frilly, tan cloth. Ed strips much faster than Izzy had, shedding his comparatively simple outfit without bothering to move the pieces from where they fall to the floor. Once he’s naked, he crawls over Izzy on all fours, moving slowly up the bed. Edward doesn’t break eye contact as he skims the back of his hand up Izzy’s calf, rubs his stubbled cheek on Izzy’s bare thigh, or gives the lightest press of lips to the center of his chest.
Izzy’s breathing has sped up, and he resists the urge to fidget his hands, choosing to grip the thin blanket instead. Ed’s hair hangs in a thick black curtain around his face, and once they’re eye to eye, Izzy can see that he’s panting too, the only noise in the silence that blankets the room.
Edward cups his left cheek in his strong, broad hand and kisses him, just once. He taps a finger against Izzy’s cheek to get him to reopen his eyes, and when he does, Edward is looking at him more intently than Izzy can ever remember him doing.
“Okay, Iz?” he whispers. Izzy nods.
Ed smiles at him, a small thing that doesn’t crack the intensity of the atmosphere. Ed’s knees squeeze him where they’re settled on either side of his hips.
Rather than kissing him again, Edward moves his mouth over to Izzy’s ear, licking a stripe around the curve of the outside before biting the lobe between his teeth. Izzy lets out a low hum and reaches up to grip Ed’s biceps where they frame his shoulders, but Edward sits up on his knees, catching Izzy’s hands. He briefly squeezes Izzy’s fingers, before guiding his hands up, placing one on top of the other just above his head, then pressing down firmly on them before letting go. The message is clear, and Izzy feels his head swim at a fresh wave of arousal from the command.
Edward goes back to kissing and biting along Izzy’s neck, the wet sounds of Ed’s mouth and the forceful rasp of Izzy’s breathing the only breaks in the silence. Ed pulls his cravat upward and to the left, the silky cloth putting the barest pressure on Izzy’s windpipe as Ed holds it firmly to the side. He focuses particular attention on the side of his neck, where it meets his right shoulder, kisses and kisses and kisses that spot before he starts to gently suck a bruise there. Ed sits back to admire his handiwork, where Izzy is sure there’s a deep purple splotch forming. A place where Izzy could choose to cover it, if he wanted to. In this moment, he can’t imagine wanting to hide the claim Edward has placed on him.
As Ed moves down to mouth at his pecs, Izzy feels his insides squirm with discomfort at the same time as he’s harder than diamonds. Ed’s mouth and hands and breath feel good where they pass over his skin. Izzy feels pleasantly floaty, a sensation he’s never been able to achieve with a few swigs of rum like the other men can. He feels like he’s not in control of his limbs, of his body, and he’s not sure if he likes it.
Izzy clears his throat, “Move it along, Teach, I’m not getting any younger.”
Ed considers him for a moment before his eyes spark with something like determination.
“You’ll take what I give you, and right now, I’m enjoying myself. I won’t be rushed,” Ed says with the authority of someone much older and more powerful. Izzy’s surprised to find that it works; his twitching muscles settle and his racing thoughts slow, allowing Ed to assert control in this moment, to take responsibility. Even Ed’s self-satisfied expression isn’t enough to raise his hackles.
He's so focused on relaxing, on how his fingers and toes are tingling with sensation and lackthereof, he doesn’t notice Ed using his teeth to pull his smalls down and off until the warmth of his breath brushes over where Izzy’s hard and leaking. Izzy’s eyes snap shut without his permission. Izzy’s not sure what he’s afraid of seeing, or what he’s trying to hide from Edward.
A finger taps lightly on his thigh, and when he forces himself to glance down, Ed’s looking at him with an eyebrow raised and an expression too unimpressed to really be a question. Izzy takes a deep breath and fixes his eyes on the ceiling but demands that his body relax further, his muscles melting and limbs sinking heavily into the mattress. Edward seems to take this for the go on that it is.
Ed bypasses Izzy’s cock to sink his teeth into a thigh, just shy of breaking skin, and Izzy groans. He spends several long moments bestowing attention to Izzy’s thighs with his lips and tongue and teeth, then moves up to paint a quick, hard stripe with his tongue right over the head of Izzy’s drooling cock, making him cry out.
Edward sits up, once again straddling Izzy’s thighs, and looks up and down his body, admiring the bruises and bitemarks, the flushed skin he’s left in the wake of his mouth and hands. He plants his hands on either side of Izzy’s shoulders, giving him nowhere to look but Edward’s face.
Edward says, “I want to ride you. I want to open myself up for you and then sit on your cock and I want you to lie there and let me take what I want from you and make you feel good.” Izzy shivers, too far gone to speak. “Okay, Iz?”
Izzy swallows hard and nods.
Ed makes quick work of sliding off the bed and over to the cabinet above the wash basin, where he finds some kind of moisturizing cream, and in a flash he’s back over Izzy, sitting up on his knees.
He watches Ed’s face closely as he reaches behind himself, noticing the way his forehead wrinkles and his breath catches. Ed’s arm moves slowly and after a bit, he tips forward to plant his left forearm on Izzy’s chest to support himself, bending down to lay deep, wet kisses across Izzy’s mouth. Ed’s moaning at what he’s doing to himself, and Izzy wants to reach out, to touch him, but he’s not sure where or how at this point, and he has a vague recollection that Ed wants him to keep his hands still.
While he’s still perseverating, Ed pulls his fingers out and then there’s a slick hand rubbing the oil along his cock and Izzy hums at finally having Edward’s hand on him. The pressure is gone as quickly as it came, and then Edward is steadying his dick with a grip at the base as he sinks down.
Despite Izzy’s average size, it still takes Ed a few pushes up and down to take him in fully. Ed lets his serious demeanor slip and huffs out a self-deprecating laugh, “Sorry, it’s been a while for me,” but Izzy barely hears him, as focused as he is on taking in every facet of Edward’s expression. He’s surprised to see that when Ed is fully seated, rather than pain or discomfort, the look on his face is one of relief, like he’d been waiting a lifetime to have Izzy inside him like this.
“Oh,” is all Izzy can say before the tidal wave of sensation he’d been blocking out crashes into him.
All he can feel, see, smell is Edward. This perfect, beautiful man is astride him because he wants to be, because he wants Izzy, and it feels like Izzy can scarcely breathe. He is overwhelmed with sensation unlike anything he’s ever felt, between the unrelenting grip of Ed’s ass around his prick, the soothing warmth of Ed’s thighs draped across his lap, Ed’s right hand planted in the center of Izzy’s chest while his left grips the headboard of the inn’s bed, Ed’s eyes squeezed shut and his chin tilted upward as he sucks in breath…Izzy can’t fathom ever wanting anything as much as he wants Edward. Edward’s safety, his happiness, his pleasure, his presence by Izzy’s side – it’s everything.
Izzy is pulled back into the moment by Ed tugging on his cravat, still loosely secured around his neck. “Iz? Okay?” Edward writhes a little while Izzy struggles for words. “Tell me yes, tell me I can move,” Ed nearly begs, his controlling position undermined by the need in his voice.
Somehow, Izzy finds his voice, gasping, “Yes, move, God, Ed, please move,” he says.
So Edward does.
Without loosening his hold on Izzy’s cravat, Ed begins to rock his hips, slowly at first, but soon moving in earnest. He keeps the strip of fabric taught like a leash as he throws his head back and grinds on Izzy’s lap, taking his pleasure from Izzy’s body.
“Fuck, Izzy, so good for me, feel so good inside me,” Ed breathes.
Izzy remembers that he should be helping, shouldn’t be making Edward do all the work, and he plants his feet under him for leverage to thrust up as Ed drops down. Soon the sound of their skin coming together fills the room, and Izzy can’t tell which of them is moaning and whining and keening, but he has a feeling it’s both of them. Ed crouches down over him and bounces up and down with fervor, his hot breath fanning out over Izzy’s collarbone.
“Ed,” Izzy groans, “Ed it’s– you’re–”
“Touch me Izzy, put your hand on my cock, need it, need you, Izzy.”
Izzy flexes his fingers where they’ve been interlaced above his head for what feels like hours now and drags one leaden limb down so he can wrap a hand around Ed’s erection. He tries to pump his hand in time with his thrusts upward, with the movement of Ed’s hips, but there’s too much to focus on already, and then Edward’s shoving his tongue in Izzy’s mouth, pushing a whine down his throat. Izzy feels his movements stutter as the slide of his hand gets slicker with Ed’s come.
Ed slows his hips into a deep, dirty grind as he rides out his release, still kissing Izzy for all he’s worth. He backs up a scant inch to breathe, then smirks as he sits back up, squaring his hips over Izzy’s and clenching down.
He resumes his brutal pace even though he must be oversensitive, goading, “Come on, be good for me, you want to be good for me? Come, Izzy, now. Come inside me.”
It only takes a few uncoordinated thrusts of Izzy’s hips and Ed’s sharp tug on his cravat before he’s letting go too, filling Ed up, just like he’d been asked, just what Edward wanted from him.
Izzy’s only vaguely aware as Ed keeps rocking, not releasing Izzy’s dick from inside him or his grasp on the cravat. He sucks again on the bruise he’d left at the base of Izzy’s throat until Izzy feels his body begin to shy away from the sting.
His mind feels utterly blank, unable to process any thoughts beyond Edward and warm and good. The next thing he feels is Ed moving a wet cloth across his abdomen, down over his softening prick, cleaning away the mess of their come, their…Izzy doesn’t have the words to describe the experience. He feels tired and heavy, like he could sleep here in this bed with Edward for the rest of his years on earth and be completely content.
Ed throws the rag on the floor and tucks himself into Izzy’s right side. He plants a kiss on his neck, then props himself up on an elbow and grips Izzy’s jaw tightly. The bright points of contact bring his brain fully back into focus.
“Izzy, that was…” Ed trails off before clearing his throat. “Okay, Izzy? You’re okay?”
Izzy tilts his chin up in silent request, and Ed kisses him, sweet and deep, without hesitation. When he pulls back and looks at Izzy again with a question in his eye, Izzy nods, smiling with his eyes brighter than he ever has with his lips.
Ed smiles back, the corner of his mouth lifting as he murmurs a quiet ‘kay and settles his head on Izzy’s shoulder, Ed’s arm curling over his chest to grip his waist, and a leg slung over Izzy’s hips, at once restricting, possessive and comforting.
Izzy can feel Ed thinking, his brilliant, ever-churning mind swirling with thoughts and questions and plans, but Izzy can’t be bothered with anything outside of this moment. With a squeeze of his arm around Ed’s shoulders, he lets himself drift off to sleep.