What would he like. What a question. No one ever asks him that. Now, presented with the opportunity, he doesn’t have the sobriety to think about it.
Which may be a blessing because, were he sober, this wouldn’t be happening at all. It is almost certain.
This lack of sobriety is a blessing two fold, actually, because he doesn’t have to think at all. Seeing Lucius above him, wearing the lad’s marks on his chest, teetering on the edge of monstrous starvation, Izzy knows exactly what he’d like.
For the second time in one night, Izzy startles a laugh out of Lucius. This one is huskier, laced with intent, but amused nonetheless. His grin splits his face in a way that, on anyone else, might look threatening.
"Oh, absolutely," Lucius confirms and his hands shift to Izzy's trousers even as he rises up and crushes his lips against Izzy's mouth again. This part he can do blind and it isn't long before he's got the laces undone and his fingers pressing down on the waistband. He has to stand to strip them and, as such, this latest kiss is kept shallow and brief.
"Strip for me and I'll demonstrate," Lucius offers and, with great resolve, moves back off Izzy's lap and stands.
It’s easier to strip the bottom half without being pinned into a sofa. Not that being pinned isn’t extremely nice, because it is.
Izzy pulls himself up with a grunt and swings his legs over. His boots are already off and with laces undone it’s nothing to pull himself up (the room is spinning a bit, it’s fine, just makes it more fun) and peel himself out of his leathers.
It feels almost like a stand off, then, as Lucius drops his shorts and they are confronted by each other in the nude, erect and fully presented.
Izzy doesn’t like the lack of contact and quickly moves to close it, taking them towards the bed at the same time. Why fuck on a couch when you have the most marvellously soft bed you have ever experienced in your life there for the taking.
Izzy is a sight in the nude but, before Lucius can really look his fill, Izzy is closing the space and their mouths collide again as he drags them the short distance to the bed. Lucius pivots and, when Izzy's knees catch the impossibly soft mattress, he breaks their kissing and gives the man a shove. Izzy topples onto the bed and Lucius cages him in, briefly bending to nip at his throat and neck before dropping back.
He had, on the off chance he'd get lucky after the party, actually come prepared. This is convenient because, honestly, his drunken mind cannot possibly reconcile the idea of asking Izzy if he has any lube around, nor dealing with an affirmative on that. Lucius kneels to grab the little container from the pocket of his awful floral print short and, being that he's already down here, it's an easy maneuver to draw one of Izzy's knees over his shoulder. When he straightens up, Izzy's leg shifts and puts the whole of him on display.
Lovely. Love that.
He wastes no time opening his little container and dipping fingers in and, with a smug smile like the cat who ate the canary, he immediately starts massaging the slick, almost balm-like substance right against Izzy's hole.
Mother of god, that escalated quickly. But you know what? Good. It saves faffing about and while Izzy is happy to switch this saves the discussion. Fuck it. Lucius even came prepared.
It shows good initiative, you know? Preparedness.
But it does all happen very fast and very intimately. Izzy might belt him again if he weren’t drunk, surprised into surrender, and feeling shamefully exposed. Funny how shame can become arousal. There might be something to that.
Plus the confidence by contrast is a nice look on Lucius. A predatory smile, fingers knowing exactly what to fucking do. They’re wasted and it’s still going to be a good shag, he can just fuckin tell. So why be a cunt about it. Why not just give in. So he does.
Izzy huffs a laugh, forcing himself to breathe out and relax his body. One leg up make it easy and he shifts his leg even more with invitation. Hard cock up against his belly which Izzy reaches to take in hand.
“If you’re awful I’ll never let you live it down, you know that, yeah.”
Izzy hadn't asked him if he knew how to do foreplay, he'd asked if Lucius knew how to fuck. While Lucius would be game for riding Izzy into the ground, that's rather more 'getting fucked'. (A suggestion that Izzy has made to him many times in the past, but not tonight.)
"Oh please," Lucius scoffs and Izzy relaxes, shifting in invitation and making more space for his hand. He rewards the effort by working a finger into the man beneath him. The second follows shortly after and with no catch at all. The lube of the future is dead useful, isn't it?
"If there's one thing I know I'm good at it's this," Lucius tells him and leans in, his free hand moving to the outside of Izzy's thigh, holding it on his shoulder and forcing him to tilt his hips to accommodate. He's so close that, as his hand works in Izzy, the length of his cock ends up bobbing against the cleft of Izzy's ass.
"But, by all means, if it's bad I won't even argue."
Oh, Izzy doesn't give a rat's ass about foreplay right now. Not with Lucius hooked inside of him like that. It's kind that he's considerate in the first instance. Izzy wouldn't have been surprised nor would he have complained were they to forego prep entirely. Taking the time, even drunk, speaks volumes which he will parse out later when he sets himself to breakdown over this development.
"Good," he breathes as he wills himself to relax even more, focusing on all the little sensations which combine into drunken bliss at the hands and cock and lips of another man. It has been far, far too long. Hips up, prick now pointing at himself from the angle.
Izzy needs better purchase than to touch himself, and redirects his hands to tangle in the bed sheets above his head. It's not much of an anchor but it's enough, trusting Lucius' strength and his unclaimed leg to keep him up where he needs to be.
"More flattery? If this is a new habit, I love it," Lucius croons as he plies Izzy open. He's doing such a good job relaxing and, whether it's the alcohol or just willpower, it's making Lucius's work that much easier.
Izzy is tight, even when relaxed, and if it wouldn't earn him a cuffing of the ear to comment on it, he would. As is, his own cock is already rock hard and distracting, spurned on by his imagining how Izzy will feel around him. They're close, enough that Lucius decides to add a third finger and finally really sets about scissoring him open.
"You looks so delicious like this," Lucius says, driven near to distraction and places a playful, biting kiss on the thigh next to his head. Should he suck a mark into it? His drunken mind says: yes, and he immediately sets about to do just that.
Delicious is one of those words that could mean anything in the right context. In a kitchen, safety and nourishment. In the feather light nothings of delight, pure joy. In bed, well it very much depends on the partner. Izzy feels, as he hears it, that he has very much met his match in Lucius Spriggs who somehow employs playful flirtation with the undercurrent of danger and has learned to cut Izzy at the knees with incredible efficiency. It's the same sort of feeling Izzy always has around Lucius, not able to read him fully, confused as fuck about everything the man is and has become in their time of knowing each other.
This, here and now, brought between drunken, delicious delight, and something that could very easily be a threat, isn't really any different.
Well, the one difference being that Izzy very much wants to see what happens. It isn't about emotion, it isn't about anything other than the act. And that's okay. He wouldn't want it to be more. Emotions are dangerous things and they cloud your judgment. Just look at Edward. This is.. he can do this and keep a friendship (still wild to him) and it not have to be anything more than that.
A lot more would have to happen before emotions could be recognized and he honestly just isn't ready to deal with it. Hasn't had to, really. Why start now.
Besides, if he wanted to.. where would he even begin?
Izzy answers only with a high, breathy moan as he sinks into the sensation of the pulled bruise and fingers stretching him open. In the pleasure of this stupid, stupid moment that he needs so very desperately. He has patience, for a moment, to let this happen but should Lucius take any more time that Izzy thinks it's required he'll start to make noise about it. Rest assured. Quit fucking around, I'm good, let's do this-
Still, can't help but wonder if it were Anne who taught him all this. Seeing as she's developed in Lucius a very particular skill set. Izzy can't help but wonder further if he'll see any more glimpses of it.
You don't have to gentle," he says for good measure. Testing a boundary he hasn't approached with Lucius before.
"Oh, a tough guy, should have known," Lucius drawls as he leaves that bruise on Izzy's inner thigh. His assurance is enough, though, and Lucius withdraws his fingers and draws the remaining slick over himself. He lines up and, alright, so maybe he delays just to watch Izzy's expression go a little sour about it.
It's worth it to sit there, prick throbbing in hand, head of it tortuously pressed against his stretched rim, not doing a goddamn thing, if only to watch Izzy get fussed.
"Do you want me to break you? Cause I can give that a go if you're into it."
There it is again. That sweet threat. Almost like Lucius can read his mind as he holds out on purpose. How infuriating. It works, too, because he is incredibly fussed.
"Don't offer something you aren't capable of," he growls back. He is into it. Not that he has ever sat down to really think about that sort of thing. Always just.. ends up that way and he's learned to use it.
"Adorable," Lucius declares with a bark of laughter and, just so Izzy can't come back at him snarling and snapping, uses that moment to sink into the man beneath him. This is a double edged sword, it turns out, because Izzy is so fucking tight and he's so fucking hot that it steals any coherent repartee from Lucius as well. His laughter becomes a throaty groan, pulled from somewhere deep in his chest, and Lucius does absolutely nothing to stifle it.
Are these walls thin? Are magical walls in a magical cursed cruise ship thin?
Fuck it he doesn't really care.
"Forget breaking you, you're going to crack me in half--I knew you were tight-arse but--" He trails off as he sinks himself to the hilt and takes just a moment to savor. Then, because Izzy is so adamant about his not needing gentleness, Lucius withdraws and fucks into him, starting a rhythm that is not exceptionally kind.
Who cares about the walls, Izzy doesn't know his neighbors and he frankly doesn't give a single fuck. Not even if he did. The only thing he is concerned about is the way Lucius takes him with a confident thrust and the noise he makes whilst doing it.
Steals the words right from that smart mouth. There's a victory.
"Fh- fuck-"
Izzy doesn't need kindness. If he does, let's say in the hypothetical, it can wait. What he wants is this. He watches, of course he does, a small noise fucked out of him with every motion of Lucius' hips as he drives home without any hesitation. And fuck does it feel so fucking good. Izzy hooks his other leg to the man's hip and pulls him that much closer. Urging him, a little challenge, but also he just wants more.
Izzy curses and Lucius would smirk, if he had the capacity. As is, being slightly tipsy and buried balls deep in Israel Hands, Lucius would be lucky to remember his own name. The leg around his hip is welcome and he spares a hand to brace it. It puts him off balance though and, when he starts to tip, he has to lean forward to plant a hand on the mattress. Izzy's nearly bent in half about it, would be if Lucius weren't a tall mountain of a man, and the new angle makes it so much easier to fuck into him.
It also sets Izzy's prick bobbing between them with each thrust. It's not long before Lucius abandons holding his leg and uses that free hand to wrap around it.
That thought startles another semblance of a laugh out of him, which triggers another gut-wrenched groan. He's got his hand on Izzy's Jizzy. He would never declare that aloud, but it will amuse him until the day he dies.
It's doubly amusing because Izzy has a surprisingly nice cock. Thick, well shaped, nice curve to it. He hadn't really ogled much (not as much as he'd like) but just feeling it? God he'd love to draw it, just for his own imaginary reference. Now, tragically, is not the time to request that. Now is the time to hope his hand still has enough lube on it to ease the stroking he's doing.
It has enough. A glide catching on each end where the slick runs out and pulls that little bit of friction. Izzy doesn’t mind, it just adds another layer to the sensation.
He’s quite bendy, which is handy for being folded in two. Izzy’s abandoned leg rests on the small of Lucius’ back and he, too, abandons purchase in favor of touch. One hand back in Lucius’ hair where it tangles tightly. The other gripping his surprisingly strong shoulder.
Lucius has set this up to make Izzy come all over himself when the time arises and he doesn’t even fuckin care, sunk too deep into the pleasure of a man who has confused him since day one. This tension has always been there. Always. And now it’s broken to reveal itself, he is grateful. Matching rhythm, nails digging in, bodies in such perfect sync.
Lucius could listen to the breathy, punched out sounds that Izzy makes for hours. Each thrust drives a new one out of him and each stroke is a different sound on inhale. The man is loud and Lucius has never been more delighted to learn a fact about Izzy Hands. He rewards each noise, of course--rolling his hips just a touch each time he drives in, thumb smearing under the head of his cock with each pull--it's an exhausting amount of coordination but Lucius is very good at multitasking.
For the moment.
The longer this carries on, the tighter he's wound--mind blanking except for the points where they touch. The pressure and heat when he fucks in, the leg hooked over his shoulder, the fingers digging into his other shoulder, wound in his hair--those are the only things that exist, for the moment, and Lucius is perfectly content with that. Nails bite into skin and pleasure coils in his gut--
How long has he been on this boat? Too long. He can't remember the last time he was celibate this long. And Izzy is breaking the dry spell? God just the thought is maddening. He's not going to be able to make a production out of this at all.
As long as it has been for Lucius, it has been longer for Izzy. Whist it doesn’t really bother him, he thinks it has been worth the wait.
Two hellcats colliding in the sheets and he wouldn’t change a fucking moment of it. Except, perhaps, to have done something about it sooner.
He really should have fucked Lucius in that hot tub.
Next time, maybe.
Praise hits his ears and Izzy gives a breathy laugh, punctuated with gasps every time Lucius fucks him deep to the hilt. He can feel it between his fucking eyes. Izzy wants in this moment, more than anything, to be filled to the brim. Fucked so stupid he can’t think, leaking with seed. Dizzy and sated and well bred.
Jesus Christ.
The thought coincides with a particularly well aimed thrust and Izzy yelps with sudden pleasure as Lucius bulls eyes his prostate.
True to expectation, Izzy cums all fucking over himself, moaning like a shivery whore. His cock spits a ribbon up his chest and neck while he blacks the fuck out for a second, body clenching even tighter - a whirl of existential bliss and what it means to get fucked good.
Izzy tenses beneath him, around him, and Lucius lets out a sound like Izzy's just punched him in the gut. His hands go tight in Lucius's hair and at his shoulder and it's all Lucius can do to fuck him through him, gaze torn between watching his face and watching him spend across his own chest.
"That's it," Lucius encourages nonsensically, hand still stroking, wringing every last drop of Izzy's spend from him. Izzy's cock throbs in time with his pulse as it jerks and, with such a show, it is only a handful of eager, grinding thrusts before Lucius spends himself as well.
Lucius sinks deep and grinds his cockhead against that lovely spot that had Izzy yelping. It's probably too much for Izzy--it's too much for Lucius and it's not even his prostate. He comes with a throaty gasp and a punched out, shivery moan of his own.
It’s way too intense, unforgiving, overstimulating, and could not be fucking better. Riding the line between everything and too much, dragging out noise after noise after noise. Made filthy and then filled while the axis of Izzy’s world goes rolling merrily off kilter.
When he can’t take it anymore, when the crashing waves of pleasure threaten to turn ugly, it still takes Izzy a moment to push back Lucius’ shoulder for him to stop. But by that time the man may have, already.
Spent and whirling, Izzy drops his leg from where he’s had it hooked on the small of the other’s back, panting openly, warm and sweaty and sticky.
Were he younger, he might push for another round after a short respite. Tempting. Very tempting. But right now all he can to try to survive riding out the aftershock of both their climax.
Lucius stays in place a moment, lingers as he catches his breath, and eventually has the wherewithal to lower Izzy's leg. He slips out of the man beneath him with that slip and the sigh that follows that turns indulgent. Lucius stretches, like a cat in a sunbeam, as he draws himself back up to standing. His back gives a satisfying pop which just...puts a little bit of icing on the whole evening.
Izzy is sprawled out, panting, and absolutely debauched. Lucius lets that image sink in a moment and then steps back. It's a quick walk to the washroom for a rag--and he can even use hot water. It cools a bit by the time he makes it back to the bed, but it's still the better side of warm. Rather than passing it off to him, Lucius drops down on the bed next to him, bouncing the whole mattress in the process. Once he's made himself comfortable, Lucius drops the washrag on his chest.
"I assume my reputation is in the clear?" Lucius prompts with a comfortable sort of smugness.
Having given a groan when Lucius pulled out, Izzy fell silent as he attempted to gather himself in the brief moment he was alone.
Now joined again (oof, why jostling, for what reason why) and presented with a warm cloth, he snorts at the quip and paws a tired hand to clean himself up. Nearly gave himself a facial, wouldn’t that have been embarrassing.
“For now,” by which he means an absolute, resounding yes. Drunk, Well Fucked Izzy, also isn’t above ruling out a next time.
It’s his turn to get up. To go and clear himself out, but he doesn’t want to. Not yet. There’s something terribly nice that curls in his belly and murmurs about being used and filthy.
Izzy's begrudging agreement is the highest possible praise and Lucius luxuriates in it. Izzy wipes his chest down lazily and Lucius watches him with hooded eyes. It is so far past his bedtime that, frankly, he's shocked he's not delirious with it. The fucking definitely gave him a boost of adrenaline but that is wearing thin and there's a comfortable sort of cotton fluff bearing down on his conscious thoughts.
"Good," Lucius says and idly picks a hand up to push some of Izzy's disheveled hair out of his face. He tries not to be too tender about it, but he's a tender sort.
"If it's ever in doubt, just send me a message," he says and, despite himself, just ends up staring at Izzy fondly.
“I’ll bear it in mind,” he murmurs and allows the touch as he works, dropping the cloth over the side of his bed without a care. Another problem for Tomorrow Izzy.
He still needs to get up.
Not gonna.
Instead, he settles down right where he is, aware that he’s being watched after a moment at which point he looks back from the corner of his eye. If there’s anything more intimate to say, he leaves it silent.
There’s a long beat before Izzy speaks. He, too, is exhausted, and sobriety is looming closer as dawn threatens to break in the coming hours.
“Get some sleep, Lucius.”
Not quite a soft, pillowy please stay, but it isn’t an order to leave, either.
He'd been wondering if he'd be kicked out after, if he'd really considered it, he would be surprised at the implicit invite. Later, he will be flummoxed, but right now he is just happy he doesn't have to get back up and put on trousers. Tragically, he does have to get up to haul the blanket out from under them. He does and, once he has it, just flops on the bed again and pulls it over both of them.
They've clumsily admitted to mutual regard, named themselves friends, fucked, and now they're draped perpendicular across a soft, comfy mattress, exhausted. This is the perfect end to a day. Lucius may shift closer as he drapes the duvet over both of them. It's not quite cuddling but not quite anything else--as much tenderness as he thinks Izzy will tolerate--and then lets out a comfortable sigh as he curls up.
It’s been a long time he’s shared a bunk and even longer since he’s curled up with other crew mates. Once upon a time any old barrel or heap of rope had done. A hammock if he was lucky. Working his way up the the luxury of a bed, even a thin, unforgiving one was a hard earned treat. This bed is absolute majesty in comparison. And despite being unused to sharing now, there’s something nice about drifting off to the breathing and weight of someone beside him - trusting completely that the person won’t stab and loot him in his sleep. Things have really come a long way.
And he sleeps well. Really well. Despite the dregs of a hangover when he wakes to the noise of a note being stuffed under his door, Izzy feels energised as he grunts and rolls out of bed.
It’s late morning but it’s also unlikely anyone has missed him. Edward doesn’t require nearly as much attention here, not that Izzy likes this development, and he trains with Darcy in the afternoons. His mornings are his own.
Izzy stretches, carding his hands through his hair before scratching his chest, padding naked to the door after a small detour to the bathroom.
He knows the writing on the page immediately and prepares himself for a fresh new hell as he turns and finds there is already one waiting. In his bed. Lucius Spriggs is in his fucking bed and-
“Oh my god.” Small but gruff.
Then he remembers. In great, vivid detail, why Lucius is in his bed.
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Which may be a blessing because, were he sober, this wouldn’t be happening at all. It is almost certain.
This lack of sobriety is a blessing two fold, actually, because he doesn’t have to think at all. Seeing Lucius above him, wearing the lad’s marks on his chest, teetering on the edge of monstrous starvation, Izzy knows exactly what he’d like.
He swallows. And never without a challenge:
“Can you fuck?”
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"Oh, absolutely," Lucius confirms and his hands shift to Izzy's trousers even as he rises up and crushes his lips against Izzy's mouth again. This part he can do blind and it isn't long before he's got the laces undone and his fingers pressing down on the waistband. He has to stand to strip them and, as such, this latest kiss is kept shallow and brief.
"Strip for me and I'll demonstrate," Lucius offers and, with great resolve, moves back off Izzy's lap and stands.
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Izzy pulls himself up with a grunt and swings his legs over. His boots are already off and with laces undone it’s nothing to pull himself up (the room is spinning a bit, it’s fine, just makes it more fun) and peel himself out of his leathers.
It feels almost like a stand off, then, as Lucius drops his shorts and they are confronted by each other in the nude, erect and fully presented.
Izzy doesn’t like the lack of contact and quickly moves to close it, taking them towards the bed at the same time. Why fuck on a couch when you have the most marvellously soft bed you have ever experienced in your life there for the taking.
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He had, on the off chance he'd get lucky after the party, actually come prepared. This is convenient because, honestly, his drunken mind cannot possibly reconcile the idea of asking Izzy if he has any lube around, nor dealing with an affirmative on that. Lucius kneels to grab the little container from the pocket of his awful floral print short and, being that he's already down here, it's an easy maneuver to draw one of Izzy's knees over his shoulder. When he straightens up, Izzy's leg shifts and puts the whole of him on display.
Lovely. Love that.
He wastes no time opening his little container and dipping fingers in and, with a smug smile like the cat who ate the canary, he immediately starts massaging the slick, almost balm-like substance right against Izzy's hole.
Fuck off stalkers we’re 🍆💦 over here
It shows good initiative, you know? Preparedness.
But it does all happen very fast and very intimately. Izzy might belt him again if he weren’t drunk, surprised into surrender, and feeling shamefully exposed. Funny how shame can become arousal. There might be something to that.
Plus the confidence by contrast is a nice look on Lucius. A predatory smile, fingers knowing exactly what to fucking do. They’re wasted and it’s still going to be a good shag, he can just fuckin tell. So why be a cunt about it. Why not just give in. So he does.
Izzy huffs a laugh, forcing himself to breathe out and relax his body. One leg up make it easy and he shifts his leg even more with invitation. Hard cock up against his belly which Izzy reaches to take in hand.
“If you’re awful I’ll never let you live it down, you know that, yeah.”
LMAO.
"Oh please," Lucius scoffs and Izzy relaxes, shifting in invitation and making more space for his hand. He rewards the effort by working a finger into the man beneath him. The second follows shortly after and with no catch at all. The lube of the future is dead useful, isn't it?
"If there's one thing I know I'm good at it's this," Lucius tells him and leans in, his free hand moving to the outside of Izzy's thigh, holding it on his shoulder and forcing him to tilt his hips to accommodate. He's so close that, as his hand works in Izzy, the length of his cock ends up bobbing against the cleft of Izzy's ass.
"But, by all means, if it's bad I won't even argue."
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"Good," he breathes as he wills himself to relax even more, focusing on all the little sensations which combine into drunken bliss at the hands and cock and lips of another man. It has been far, far too long. Hips up, prick now pointing at himself from the angle.
Izzy needs better purchase than to touch himself, and redirects his hands to tangle in the bed sheets above his head. It's not much of an anchor but it's enough, trusting Lucius' strength and his unclaimed leg to keep him up where he needs to be.
"You're stronger than I thought you'd be."
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Izzy is tight, even when relaxed, and if it wouldn't earn him a cuffing of the ear to comment on it, he would. As is, his own cock is already rock hard and distracting, spurned on by his imagining how Izzy will feel around him. They're close, enough that Lucius decides to add a third finger and finally really sets about scissoring him open.
"You looks so delicious like this," Lucius says, driven near to distraction and places a playful, biting kiss on the thigh next to his head. Should he suck a mark into it? His drunken mind says: yes, and he immediately sets about to do just that.
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This, here and now, brought between drunken, delicious delight, and something that could very easily be a threat, isn't really any different.
Well, the one difference being that Izzy very much wants to see what happens. It isn't about emotion, it isn't about anything other than the act. And that's okay. He wouldn't want it to be more. Emotions are dangerous things and they cloud your judgment. Just look at Edward. This is.. he can do this and keep a friendship (still wild to him) and it not have to be anything more than that.
A lot more would have to happen before emotions could be recognized and he honestly just isn't ready to deal with it. Hasn't had to, really. Why start now.
Besides, if he wanted to.. where would he even begin?
Izzy answers only with a high, breathy moan as he sinks into the sensation of the pulled bruise and fingers stretching him open. In the pleasure of this stupid, stupid moment that he needs so very desperately. He has patience, for a moment, to let this happen but should Lucius take any more time that Izzy thinks it's required he'll start to make noise about it. Rest assured. Quit fucking around, I'm good, let's do this-
Still, can't help but wonder if it were Anne who taught him all this. Seeing as she's developed in Lucius a very particular skill set. Izzy can't help but wonder further if he'll see any more glimpses of it.
You don't have to gentle," he says for good measure. Testing a boundary he hasn't approached with Lucius before.
"You won't break me."
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It's worth it to sit there, prick throbbing in hand, head of it tortuously pressed against his stretched rim, not doing a goddamn thing, if only to watch Izzy get fussed.
"Do you want me to break you? Cause I can give that a go if you're into it."
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"Don't offer something you aren't capable of," he growls back. He is into it. Not that he has ever sat down to really think about that sort of thing. Always just.. ends up that way and he's learned to use it.
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Are these walls thin? Are magical walls in a magical cursed cruise ship thin?
Fuck it he doesn't really care.
"Forget breaking you, you're going to crack me in half--I knew you were tight-arse but--" He trails off as he sinks himself to the hilt and takes just a moment to savor. Then, because Izzy is so adamant about his not needing gentleness, Lucius withdraws and fucks into him, starting a rhythm that is not exceptionally kind.
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Steals the words right from that smart mouth. There's a victory.
"Fh- fuck-"
Izzy doesn't need kindness. If he does, let's say in the hypothetical, it can wait. What he wants is this. He watches, of course he does, a small noise fucked out of him with every motion of Lucius' hips as he drives home without any hesitation. And fuck does it feel so fucking good. Izzy hooks his other leg to the man's hip and pulls him that much closer. Urging him, a little challenge, but also he just wants more.
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It also sets Izzy's prick bobbing between them with each thrust. It's not long before Lucius abandons holding his leg and uses that free hand to wrap around it.
That thought startles another semblance of a laugh out of him, which triggers another gut-wrenched groan. He's got his hand on Izzy's Jizzy. He would never declare that aloud, but it will amuse him until the day he dies.
It's doubly amusing because Izzy has a surprisingly nice cock. Thick, well shaped, nice curve to it. He hadn't really ogled much (not as much as he'd like) but just feeling it? God he'd love to draw it, just for his own imaginary reference. Now, tragically, is not the time to request that. Now is the time to hope his hand still has enough lube on it to ease the stroking he's doing.
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He’s quite bendy, which is handy for being folded in two. Izzy’s abandoned leg rests on the small of Lucius’ back and he, too, abandons purchase in favor of touch. One hand back in Lucius’ hair where it tangles tightly. The other gripping his surprisingly strong shoulder.
Lucius has set this up to make Izzy come all over himself when the time arises and he doesn’t even fuckin care, sunk too deep into the pleasure of a man who has confused him since day one. This tension has always been there. Always. And now it’s broken to reveal itself, he is grateful. Matching rhythm, nails digging in, bodies in such perfect sync.
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For the moment.
The longer this carries on, the tighter he's wound--mind blanking except for the points where they touch. The pressure and heat when he fucks in, the leg hooked over his shoulder, the fingers digging into his other shoulder, wound in his hair--those are the only things that exist, for the moment, and Lucius is perfectly content with that. Nails bite into skin and pleasure coils in his gut--
How long has he been on this boat? Too long. He can't remember the last time he was celibate this long. And Izzy is breaking the dry spell? God just the thought is maddening. He's not going to be able to make a production out of this at all.
"You feel--fucking amazing--"
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Two hellcats colliding in the sheets and he wouldn’t change a fucking moment of it. Except, perhaps, to have done something about it sooner.
He really should have fucked Lucius in that hot tub.
Next time, maybe.
Praise hits his ears and Izzy gives a breathy laugh, punctuated with gasps every time Lucius fucks him deep to the hilt. He can feel it between his fucking eyes. Izzy wants in this moment, more than anything, to be filled to the brim. Fucked so stupid he can’t think, leaking with seed. Dizzy and sated and well bred.
Jesus Christ.
The thought coincides with a particularly well aimed thrust and Izzy yelps with sudden pleasure as Lucius bulls eyes his prostate.
True to expectation, Izzy cums all fucking over himself, moaning like a shivery whore. His cock spits a ribbon up his chest and neck while he blacks the fuck out for a second, body clenching even tighter - a whirl of existential bliss and what it means to get fucked good.
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"That's it," Lucius encourages nonsensically, hand still stroking, wringing every last drop of Izzy's spend from him. Izzy's cock throbs in time with his pulse as it jerks and, with such a show, it is only a handful of eager, grinding thrusts before Lucius spends himself as well.
Lucius sinks deep and grinds his cockhead against that lovely spot that had Izzy yelping. It's probably too much for Izzy--it's too much for Lucius and it's not even his prostate. He comes with a throaty gasp and a punched out, shivery moan of his own.
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When he can’t take it anymore, when the crashing waves of pleasure threaten to turn ugly, it still takes Izzy a moment to push back Lucius’ shoulder for him to stop. But by that time the man may have, already.
Spent and whirling, Izzy drops his leg from where he’s had it hooked on the small of the other’s back, panting openly, warm and sweaty and sticky.
Were he younger, he might push for another round after a short respite. Tempting. Very tempting. But right now all he can to try to survive riding out the aftershock of both their climax.
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Izzy is sprawled out, panting, and absolutely debauched. Lucius lets that image sink in a moment and then steps back. It's a quick walk to the washroom for a rag--and he can even use hot water. It cools a bit by the time he makes it back to the bed, but it's still the better side of warm. Rather than passing it off to him, Lucius drops down on the bed next to him, bouncing the whole mattress in the process. Once he's made himself comfortable, Lucius drops the washrag on his chest.
"I assume my reputation is in the clear?" Lucius prompts with a comfortable sort of smugness.
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Now joined again (oof, why jostling, for what reason why) and presented with a warm cloth, he snorts at the quip and paws a tired hand to clean himself up. Nearly gave himself a facial, wouldn’t that have been embarrassing.
“For now,” by which he means an absolute, resounding yes. Drunk, Well Fucked Izzy, also isn’t above ruling out a next time.
It’s his turn to get up. To go and clear himself out, but he doesn’t want to. Not yet. There’s something terribly nice that curls in his belly and murmurs about being used and filthy.
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"Good," Lucius says and idly picks a hand up to push some of Izzy's disheveled hair out of his face. He tries not to be too tender about it, but he's a tender sort.
"If it's ever in doubt, just send me a message," he says and, despite himself, just ends up staring at Izzy fondly.
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He still needs to get up.
Not gonna.
Instead, he settles down right where he is, aware that he’s being watched after a moment at which point he looks back from the corner of his eye. If there’s anything more intimate to say, he leaves it silent.
There’s a long beat before Izzy speaks. He, too, is exhausted, and sobriety is looming closer as dawn threatens to break in the coming hours.
“Get some sleep, Lucius.”
Not quite a soft, pillowy please stay, but it isn’t an order to leave, either.
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They've clumsily admitted to mutual regard, named themselves friends, fucked, and now they're draped perpendicular across a soft, comfy mattress, exhausted. This is the perfect end to a day. Lucius may shift closer as he drapes the duvet over both of them. It's not quite cuddling but not quite anything else--as much tenderness as he thinks Izzy will tolerate--and then lets out a comfortable sigh as he curls up.
"Night, Izzy," Lucius says and drifts.
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It’s been a long time he’s shared a bunk and even longer since he’s curled up with other crew mates. Once upon a time any old barrel or heap of rope had done. A hammock if he was lucky. Working his way up the the luxury of a bed, even a thin, unforgiving one was a hard earned treat. This bed is absolute majesty in comparison. And despite being unused to sharing now, there’s something nice about drifting off to the breathing and weight of someone beside him - trusting completely that the person won’t stab and loot him in his sleep. Things have really come a long way.
And he sleeps well. Really well. Despite the dregs of a hangover when he wakes to the noise of a note being stuffed under his door, Izzy feels energised as he grunts and rolls out of bed.
It’s late morning but it’s also unlikely anyone has missed him. Edward doesn’t require nearly as much attention here, not that Izzy likes this development, and he trains with Darcy in the afternoons. His mornings are his own.
Izzy stretches, carding his hands through his hair before scratching his chest, padding naked to the door after a small detour to the bathroom.
He knows the writing on the page immediately and prepares himself for a fresh new hell as he turns and finds there is already one waiting. In his bed. Lucius Spriggs is in his fucking bed and-
“Oh my god.” Small but gruff.
Then he remembers. In great, vivid detail, why Lucius is in his bed.
Oh no.
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