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Stede rather thinks he’s getting the hang of this co-captaining thing.
The hull is clean, the hold is full, and the crew is satisfied, even without things like a guaranteed wage and mandatory team-building every second Tuesday. Who knew? Though they do still ask for storytime, and Stede is all too happy to oblige, voices and all. Even Izzy attends these days, leaning back on the steps of the ladder – it’s a staircase, really, but Izzy does insist on his proper nautical terms – to the quarterdeck, pretending not to pay attention.
It’s a tentative thing they have, Stede and Izzy, not like what he has with Ed. But when Stede goes in on something, he goes all in, and that includes making room in his life for his lover’s longtime other lover. It fills him with a wild delight, the transgression, the lawlessness of it. Anything goes at sea, someone had once said to him, and he’s learning more about it every day.
The first time he’d watched the two of them fuck – the breathless way they clutched at each other, Ed’s hair sticking damp to the back of his neck, the arch of Izzy’s spine – he’d spent in his own hand after only a few strokes. Izzy laughed, a careless chuckle as he threw his head back and spread his knees wider for Ed. Cheeks burning hot with jealousy, it was some kind of suicidal madness that made Stede shove his soiled fingers past Izzy’s teeth, smearing over his tongue. Ed’s eyes had burned dark, and Izzy moaned Ed’s name around Stede’s hand, and, well. If Stede were twenty-five or so years younger, that would have been just lovely.
Now Izzy shares their bed some nights, and sometimes Ed goes down to Izzy’s little cabin. What happens after that is anyone’s guess, whether in the morning Ed will come back with puffy, red-rimmed eyes – tired but swearing up and down that he's fine, they're fine – or whether Izzy will tug his collar up and his sleeves down, bruises barely covered. Sometimes, confusingly, it’s both. Stede notes that he is never invited to Izzy’s cabin, and he certainly doesn’t invite himself. But he sees the way Izzy treats him changing over time, going from hostile to critical to begrudging to… interested? Fond? Sometimes? Either way, it’s terribly exciting, being wanted carnally. Izzy seems to like the beard he grew, the gold earring he now wears. Though Izzy had mocked him for wincing when the needle went through, now he sometimes sucks the hoop into his mouth, growling in Stede’s ear that he can put his back into it.
Stede puts his back into it like he has something to prove.
There’s nothing to prove with Ed. He wants to be a better man for him, to hold him close and give him all the things he deserves. He wants to be worthy, but he never feels like there’s a challenge to tackle, or a test to pass. In turn, Ed loves him just as he is, tells him so as they watch the sunset from the maintop, or nuzzle under the blankets in their bed. He’d fought his way back to Ed and made his amends, and then the hard part was over. Everything feels easy now, just as Mary said it would.
With Izzy, nothing feels easy, but every hard-won “yes, captain” and gruff nod of approval and gasp of pleasure seems worth the fight.
Stede still likes a fine wardrobe, especially enjoys swathing Ed in beautiful silks and velvets and linens, but he’s beginning to see the appeal of simpler garments. He’s always liked to dress for the occasion, and it’s possible that he didn’t fully consider what being a pirate captain entailed before – the weather, the labor, the sweat. Now that he’s actually stuck in, he’s made some changes that he thinks are rather dashing: linen shirts that dip a bit at his neck, a proper hat, rich brown boots with a heel. Just enough to click nicely on the deck, to give him an extra inch or two of height.
“Iz’ll help keep those clean,” Ed had said offhandedly when he’d climbed back aboard after the visit to the cobbler, new boots stiff around his ankles. “He’s good at that.”
Izzy’s lip had twitched, caught between accepting the compliment and rejecting the assumption that he would do anything for Stede at all. “I’ve only got black polish,” he said pointedly. Stede had looked down at the boots, dyed in a beautiful chestnut brown. The meaning was as clear as the full moon on a cloudless night.
“So get some in brown, man,” Ed said, as if it was a ridiculous issue to raise. “You want your captains to look their best, eh?”
Izzy’s eyes had slid down to the tips of Stede’s boots and back up to his face, eyes sharp and judgmental. “Don’t scuff them in the meantime,” he’d said, which translated into a rough kind of acquiescence.
And he has been taking care of them, wordlessly adding them to his routine. Not as often as Ed’s, though Stede can’t be sure if that’s just because they’re newer, or if Izzy is sending him some kind of message. Still, he dutifully cleans away the salt, the sand, occasionally the blood. Once, Izzy comments that he’s breaking them in well, and that shouldn’t feel as affirming as it does. He’s literally just wearing shoes. But competence is everything to Izzy, and Stede makes a show of inspecting the boots and passing the praise right back to him. “Fine work as always, Mr. Hands.”
He knows Izzy appreciates that kind of talk, and not just about his professional duties. When he says how good Izzy feels clenched around him and Izzy bites down on the meat of his shoulder, he knows. When Izzy kneels between Ed’s knees and lets the praise fall down on him like rain. When Izzy is fucking Ed and Ed sobs with wordless pleasure and Izzy looks at him like he’s the most gorgeous thing at sea or on land or anywhere, because he is, and Izzy gets to give that to him. Stede’s never been the best at reading people, but Izzy has always made his feelings obvious, good or bad. In a way, Stede is grateful for that.
Izzy likes the roughness, too, and Stede finds that most fascinating of all. He likes to be held down by the wrists or the hips, likes a hand over his throat or tangled in his hair, likes to be fucked hard, possessively. Stede has the feeling that there’s more that he isn’t privy to, that the wild trust that he and Ed have in each other runs even deeper than what they’ve allowed him to see, even after everything they’ve put each other through. But it’s still all new and exciting to Stede, and he tries not to resent their connection. After the hesitant, perfunctory activities of his marriage bed, the sheer breadth of flavors in their collective lovemaking is a thrill.
Izzy looks beautiful like this, splayed out on the floor, wrists bound over his head, hips raised on a pillow. There’s another one under Ed’s knee, and Ed looks beautiful too, positioned between Izzy’s legs, hair spilling long over his shoulders. It feels strange to be fully clothed while the two of them are naked, to be sitting in a chair while they’re on the floor, but that’s rather the point. He’s supposed to direct them, to take charge. He’s even wearing his boots, freshly cleaned and serviced, ready to be put to use.
“Let’s see you get him ready,” Stede says. “Nice and slow, with your fingers.”
Ed smirks and dips his fingers in the jar of oil, but Izzy scowls. He’s already hard, flushed halfway down his chest just from the position. “I don't need that, I'm ready now.”
Stede smiles. “I’ll tell you what you need.”
He tilts his hips up, spreads his knees wider, as if to prove it. “We fucked last night,” he says to Ed. “I’m still– it’s fine.”
“Still what?” Stede asks sweetly, resting just the toe of his boot against Izzy’s ribs, heel still on the floor. “Still loose? Soft?” Izzy’s cock jumps at that, and he looks away, jaw clenching around a growl. Not soft, he’s sure Izzy is thinking, but he is, he is. Soft skin, soft hair, a little softness padding his chest and belly. Soft eyes when he thinks Ed isn’t looking.
Stede wonders if Izzy ever spares him such a glance when his own back is turned.
“Yeah, he’s nice and soft,” Ed says. Stede can see his hand disappearing between Izzy’s legs, below the tight draw of his balls. He imagines two fingers tracing there, dipping into the pucker of Izzy’s hole.
Izzy’s mouth drops open for a moment as he writhes on Ed’s fingers. “Told you.”
“Mm,” Stede says. He lifts his foot and places it firmly atop Izzy’s chest, right in the center. “Slut.”
Ed chuckles at the reaction that gets, Izzy shuddering around Ed’s hand, mouth working silently. His cock gives another twitch, and Stede makes a note to hold it down later, to restrain all those involuntary little tells. His own trousers are starting to feel tight, cock filling uncomfortably against the seam. He reaches down the front to adjust himself, notices Izzy watching, and deliberately switches his feet so that his knee doesn’t block the view. He wants Izzy to see how this is affecting him, too.
“Like that, do you?” Izzy taunts. “Get off on it? Being the big man. Captain.” He sneers his way around the title, eyes bright with anticipation. Brat.
Stede puts a little more pressure on Izzy’s chest, and the motion raises his hips, stretches the silk of his trousers over the shape of his erection, now straining thick towards his belly. “Thank you for noticing,” he says primly. “It’ll be here when you’ve earned it.”
“Gonna fuck that lip right out of you, mate,” Ed says with a rough twist of his fingers.
Izzy flashes a half-grin, feral and short-lived as Ed hits a spot that has him groaning with pleasure. “Yeah?” he gasps.
“That’s right,” says Ed. He begins to stroke himself with his other hand, also well-oiled. His cock glistens with it, slick and gorgeous, making wet sounds through the slide of his fist. “When Stede says you can have it.”
Izzy makes a sound in the back of his throat, and it’s all Stede can do not to rub at the front of his trousers. Instead he leans forward a little, shifting his foot over Izzy’s pec. The skin is pulled taut by Izzy’s outstretched arms, his nipple a sweet, tight little peak amid the graying hair. Stede nudges it with the edge of his boot sole, watches it appear and disappear beneath his shoe, softening as he rubs it down only to harden again under the stimulation. He taps the toe of the boot a few times upon it. Ed is watching in fascination, but Stede is looking for something else.
“Give me more to work with, Israel,” Stede says, withdrawing his foot.
“Wha…?” Izzy breathes. He glances at Ed. “How do you mean?”
“More to work with here.” He scrapes the toe of his boot over the nub of Izzy’s nipple again. “Arms down, and tight. Show me what you’ve got.” Izzy lowers his arms over his torso so his biceps are alongside his ribs. “Push them together, let’s see them.” Izzy’s chest is already heaving with effort and arousal, and the squeeze of his arms presses the generous flesh of his tits towards the center, chest rising and falling like a maiden in stays. “Very nice,” Stede says. Izzy’s face is soft, just looking at him, waiting to see what he’ll do. He takes the heel of his boot and nudges at the fat of Izzy’s chest. “Yes, I like that. Very pretty indeed.”
“You look good like that, Iz,” Ed says, still working his hand inside, still stroking himself. “Make me wanna come all over them.” Now, there was an idea. But Stede has another one, noticing how Izzy’s bound wrists are lifted over his own groin, away from the swell of his cock. He hadn’t been told to touch, so he hadn’t.
“He’s right,” Stede says. “Good lad, not even touching yourself. Since you’re behaving so well now, why don’t you touch Ed instead? Good, yes, just put your hands up for him. Keep your elbows nice and tight.” Izzy obediently forms his hands into a loose circle, raising them at the elbow to give Ed something to fuck into. Ed has to stop fingering Izzy to make the angle work, but Ed is eager enough to thrust shallowly into Izzy’s hands that the whole scene is quite effective, Stede thinks. He imagines Ed shooting off like this, through the ring of Izzy’s bound hands, to spatter over his tits and the toe of Stede’s boot.
“That’s very nice,” says Stede. “Let’s see all of you, now.” Izzy’s tits are already pushed up, firm and rounded, and Stede uses his boot to pull the flesh closer to the center, making sure that none of it is trapped under his arms. First one side, then the other. “There we are. So much to play with.” He treats Izzy’s tits like toys, pushing down on the meat of them with the sole of his boot, nudging his nipples with the toe. It’s a feast for his senses – the way Izzy is so focused on obeying, the long line of Ed’s neck as he tosses his hair back, the little sounds both of them make, the smell of their arousal. Stede can’t help but run a hand over himself, just a few firm rubs over his clothes. It’s part relief and part stoking the flames, and he doesn’t know if he’ll fuck Izzy after Ed is done, or get himself off, or ask for one of their mouths.
Either way, he needs to move this along.
“Ed, darling, I think he’s ready for you now.”
“Been ready,” Izzy says, a bit of insistent edge creeping back into his voice.
Stede digs the edge of his bootheel into the soft give of Izzy’s chest. ”Behave.” But Ed isn’t wasting any time, and Izzy’s snark dissolves the moment that Ed slides into him, a satisfied sigh puffing from Izzy’s parted lips. Sparing an eager glance up at Stede, Ed moves Izzy into a better position. He stays on his knees so Stede can still access Izzy’s entire body, but he carefully guides Izzy’s feet up towards his shoulders, then tugs at his hips so they’re flush together. The effect is a curl of Izzy’s lower back that has the man’s hands jumping out of the way of his bobbing cock.
“Oh, yeah,” Ed groans, pumping his hips, holding on to Izzy’s thighs.
“Yes?” Stede says. “It’s good?”
“Nice and wet.” Ed grinds in deeper. “No– no resistance at all.”
“I fucking told you, Eddie,” Izzy murmurs, completely without attitude, eyes closed, every bit as pliant as he had claimed his body to be. Stede loves Izzy’s fire, but when he gets like this, it’s special. He’s never heard anyone but Izzy use the nickname ‘Eddie,’ and on the rare occasions that he gets to hear it, the unguarded intimacy always warms his heart.
“You gonna give Stede a turn after?” Ed purrs.
Izzy doesn’t open his eyes, but he nods and pushes up against them both – against the thrust of Ed’s hips and the grind of Stede’s boot. “If he wants.”
“Good answer, dear,” Stede says. His cock throbs at the easy acquiescence, at the thought of plunging inside Izzy’s fucked-open body, lubricated with Ed’s seed. Of spending inside too, just to thumb him open and watch what they both put there leak out again. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, I highly recommend it.” Ed snaps his hips forward in a movement that makes the flesh of Izzy’s chest jiggle between the walls of his biceps.
“Oh, I like that.” Stede lifts his foot and leans over. “Do that again, just the same.” Another forceful thrust and Izzy’s whole body jolts. “Again.” Stede watches his tits move in time with Ed’s motions, watches a bead of sweat roll down Ed’s throat to his delicate collarbone, watches Izzy’s cock slap against his belly and leave a tiny wet smear. He lifts his boot again and places it down hard at the center of Izzy’s chest, putting his weight on it so the displaced flesh swells up around the edges of the sole. “Stay put and let Ed fuck you. I want you ready for me in case I want a go.”
He’s pushing it, he knows, and there’s every chance that Izzy will respond with acid. If you last long enough, or something of that ilk. But the sound that Izzy makes is halfway between a sob and a growl, both eager and frustrated. Poor dear, still twisting his hands up away from his own erection, trying so hard to be good for both of his captains. Ed scrapes his teeth along the inside of Izzy’s leg, wherever he can reach. There are already suck-marks on his inner thighs, and matching ones on both Ed and Stede’s shoulders. Stede knows he’s not pressing hard enough to leave a boot-shaped mark on Izzy’s chest, but he rather fancies the idea, as a matter of fantasy.
“He’ll be ready,” Ed says. “He’s always ready. God, he feels good. You feel so good, Iz.” Izzy’s eyes open to gaze up at Ed, towering over him, taking him apart, and who wouldn’t look at Ed like that? He’s perfect. The muscles in his tattooed arms tense as he holds on to Izzy for leverage, his hair tumbles down over his shoulders, his gorgeous skin is flushed dark across his cheeks. Stede’s hand creeps down to rub over his clothed erection again, taking a tiny bit of the edge off. It’s hot through the fabric, slightly damp with sweat, and it occurs to him that he’d hate to stain the fabric with any… leakage. Surely it’s alright to give himself some breathing room. He won’t lose control.
He unbuttons the falls of his trousers and takes his cock loosely in his fist. “Mm,” Ed hums, eyeing him appreciatively. “Can’t wait, huh?” Izzy whines, still completely untouched himself. “Oh, Iz,” Ed croons. “Need something?”
Stede can see the gears turning in Izzy’s mind, calculating how likely talking back is to prevent him from coming at all. He smiles. “Ed asked you a question, sweetheart.”
Izzy glares at him, though Stede doesn’t miss how his eyes dart to the thick cockstand he’s holding in his fist. “No, captains,” he says through gritted teeth.
Stede’s smile widens. “Oh, what a good boy you’re being for us.” He lifts his boot off of Izzy’s chest, and uses the other one to nudge at his face. Gently, like a caress. “You’ve taken such good care of these for me. It only seems fitting that you earn a reward." The boot creaks, and Izzy turns his face towards it, mouth soft. Stede’s breath catches. He’s sure that Ed and Izzy have played like this, probably rougher, but it still hardly seems real that Izzy would allow himself to be this vulnerable for him. Cautiously, he brushes the toe of his boot against the corner of Izzy’s mouth, and– heavens, yes. That’s Izzy’s tongue darting out against the stitches, the whisper of a kiss on the side of the toe box. Stede’s cock pulses in his fist as he rubs the sole over Izzy’s lips.
“Fuck, Stede,” says Ed, watching Izzy licks the leather sole. “Iz, that’s so hot. I’m fucking close, man, I’m–” Words seem to leave him, and he redoubles his efforts, pounding into Izzy with such force that Stede genuinely worries he’ll hurt the man’s face by accident. Time to change positions.
“Arms up again, there’s a love.” He withdraws his foot and Izzy obeys quickly, stretching his arms back over his head. Stede cuts right to the chase, wanting to give this to Izzy before Ed spends: he takes the foot closer to Izzy’s groin and places the sole of his boot firmly over Izzy’s cock.
Izzy whimpers and grinds up into it, his cock pinned between the unyielding boot and the softness of his own belly. Stede almost wishes he could feel the heat of it, feel more than just a hard shape under a hard sole, but this is good too, the power he has over the other man. Watching someone who’d just as soon sneer at him, writhing under his boot. It can’t be comfortable, and that makes his desperation all the sweeter.
“Yeah, fucking step on it, Stede, step on his dick, make him work for it,” Ed babbles, breaths growing more shallow as his climax approaches. He comes with a choked gasp, burying himself inside Izzy and holding him there by the hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Izzy groans through it, arching his back to rub harder against Stede’s boot.
“C’mon,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself. “Ah– ahh–”
A bead of wetness pearls up at the tip of Stede’s cock, dribbles down the side.
Ed exhales, relaxation after exertion, and guides Izzy’s legs down. “Gotta get off my knees, love,” he says softly as he pulls out. “And you’ve just gotta get off.” He stretches out on his side next to Izzy.
Izzy turns his face to Ed and gasps, “I’m trying.” His feet are planted on the floor now, hips shamelessly grinding up. He’s rocking his hips to try and get more of his length under the boot, foreskin sliding over the head only to be pulled back again with each movement. Stede is fascinated by the way it peeks out, the way the edge of the sole of his boot sometimes catches on the flare of Izzy’s cockhead. It can’t be comfortable, but that’s the idea, Stede supposes.
Ed snuggles closer to Izzy, head propped on his elbow. “Does it hurt?”
Izzy’s crumpled expression is almost answer enough. “Yeah,” he says, nearly a whisper.
“Mm,” Ed says, unsympathetically. “Tell Stede thank you, and I’ll help you along.”
Izzy makes a garbled, wordless sound, but he turns his head towards Stede and looks up with a needfulness that makes Stede feel like a king. Izzy’s eyes are wet and exhausted, his hair is disheveled, his skin is pink and sweat-damp. “Th-thank you,” he says, as Ed nuzzles at the crook of his neck, planting possessive kisses on his skin. “Thank you, captain.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Stede says kindly. Izzy turns his face back to Ed’s, takes a deep shaking breath against the tangle of Ed’s hair. “Now, Ed, what does he need?”
Ed lifts his head and covers the span of Izzy’s neck with his hand. This, Stede has seen before, the way Izzy trusts Ed with his life. “If you can stand between his legs and do it like that. Then you can stand on the whole thing.” Stede nods and stands, holding his trousers up at the hip. His cock bobs obscenely, and Ed winks at him. It makes him less self-conscious, gives him the confidence to pull the chair closer for balance and raise his foot over Izzy’s leaking cock.
He lines the heel up with the root of him, just above Izzy’s balls, and presses down, all the way to the toe. Izzy sucks in air and keens, wriggling beneath the hard edge of the heel. There’ll probably be a bruise there, Stede realizes, a secret mark left behind, a shadow of what they’d done between the base of Izzy’s cock and his sack. Stede imagines that in the coming days he might lift Izzy’s soft cock out of the way to look at it, trace his thumb over it, give it a kiss. Maybe more after that.
He steps down harder.
Edward is gripping Izzy by the throat and nuzzling at his ear, whispering God knew what – whether demeaning filth or sweet endearments is impossible to tell. But Izzy is responding to it, whimpering as his face reddens under Ed’s control, mumbling and turning his face towards Ed to be kissed in the intervals when Ed lets go of his neck.
Stede looks down at his two beautiful madmen, and grips himself in his fist again.
It’s too dry, he realizes – the skin-against-skin of his own palm had been fine for the occasional stroke before, but he’s starting to need to do something about this. Feeling a little mad himself, he lets up on Izzy’s cock and stoops down between the man’s spread knees.
“No,” Izzy gasps. “No, I can do it, please–”
“Easy, easy,” Stede says. He reaches between Izzy’s cheeks, finds him still loose and wet enough that he can sweep his fingers through the mess of oil and come that Ed left behind. Minding his clothes, he coats his cock with it and stands once more, resuming the same position that Ed had suggested. Stede doesn’t fully understand what Izzy feels at times like these, what exactly he likes about it, but when the weight of Stede’s boot settles back over his cock, his face shows something like relief. “There we are,” Stede says, rocking his foot, crushing the head of Izzy’s cock into his belly. He strokes himself eagerly, no longer worried about the destination so much as enjoying getting there.
Izzy watches him stroke himself, eyes fixed on his heavy prick before fluttering closed. He mumbles something to Ed, who rubs his thumb over his chin, over his lower lip. “What’s the matter, love?” Ed asks.
Beneath the sole of his boot, Izzy’s hips rut in desperate, short jerks. “‘M close,” Stede hears him say. “Eddie, I need to hold on.”
“Oh yeah?” Ed rumbles back. “You wanna hold on while you rub off on it?” Izzy makes a tiny sound in the affirmative. “Make sure your captain’s boot doesn’t go anywhere?” Another sound. “Ask him, then, go on.” A shockingly tender kiss to Izzy’s lips.
Izzy clears his throat, like he does when he’s about to give an order on deck, but the tone of his voice couldn’t be any more different. Soft, wavering, fucked out, he says, “Permission to touch your boot, captain.” He blinks up at Stede. “Please,” he adds, squirming under Stede’s gaze as much as the pressure on his cock, Stede thinks.
“Is that what you need to get there, darling?” Stede coos. “Just a little touch? Of course you can. Only touch me, though, not yourself.”
“Yes, captain,” Izzy says, and brings his bound hands down to clutch at Stede’s foot. The leather creaks, and the change is immediate as Izzy pulls Stede down onto him in the way that must feel best. He can see it in the strain of Izzy’s shoulders, in the sweat on his brow. With his arms down, his tits are pressed up on display again, tender from the earlier treatment and quivering between his biceps. Yet even in this position, standing over Izzy, hurting him, Stede can’t help but feel that Izzy is the one using him. He’s gorgeous as he takes what he needs from Stede’s boot, and the noises he makes speak of cresting pleasure, drawing ever closer. Stede strokes himself faster in response, leans over a bit now to see better, knuckles white on the back of the chair.
Ed says something into Izzy’s ear, and Izzy’s eyes fly up to lock onto Stede’s. The eye contact burns for a moment, and then Izzy is moaning and closing his eyes, and spilling messily onto his stomach. “Oh, beautiful,” Stede breathes, feeling close himself. He doesn’t let up, and neither does Izzy. Though it must be too much, Izzy maintains his grip, keeps grinding up against the sole, whimpering into Ed’s mouth.
“Don’t let go of it,” Ed whispers. “You did so good, mate. Keep him on you, show him how much you love it.” Izzy seems to take this to heart, even when his belly starts to clench at the overstimulation. God, are those tears at the corners of his eyes? Stede watches him fall apart, and keep falling, watches the tremble of his jaw and the rise and fall of that plush chest, and he’s ready.
Working himself from head to root, Stede points his cock down towards Izzy. “Well done,” he says, ignoring the tremor in his own voice. “Taking care of both your captains.” Izzy stares up at him with something like devotion, wet and softening cock still slippery beneath Stede's boot, and that’s enough to send Stede over the edge too. His aim is imprecise but he manages to spill most of his seed over Izzy’s chest, streaking his rounded tits in white. Izzy gasps while Ed chuckles and hooks a thumb into his mouth, as if hoping he’ll catch some. None of it lands there, but Ed sweeps the thumb through the mess on Izzy’s chest. He replaces his thumb in Izzy’s mouth, kissing the man’s temple as he sucks it clean.
“I liked that,” Ed declares. “All of it.” Izzy himself is quiet, breathing hard as Stede slowly lowers his foot back to the deck, keeping the toe up, mindful of stains.
“Me too,” Stede agrees. He slides the boot from his foot, then removes the other, knees still a bit weak from the orgasm and the strain of balancing himself for so long.
“I’ll clean those up later,” Izzy says softly, as if that's the most important thing on Stede's mind right now. “Made a right mess of them.”
Stede pulls Ed up to stand, then the two of them help Izzy to the bed, where they can rest. “And I’ve made a mess of you. Fair’s fair.” Izzy smiles faintly, chides Ed for curling up on his shoulder too close to said mess, and lets Stede wipe him clean.