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[ninetoes]

« BASILICA » TEXT ✧ AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ ACTION IZZY HANDS ✦ OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH
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[ninetoes]

[Izzy doesn’t think he deserves sweetness. On the list of things he thinks he deserves, sweetness isn’t even on there. It has never occurred to him.

Respect, loyalty, transparency. Those he deserves. Authority, reliability, dedication. He’s worked hard enough. Maybe even power. Ed promised him that, once. It was a lie, in the end, and the one time Izzy had it he handled it extremely poorly (allegedly). These things are all on the list.

Kindness? Sweetness? Affection?

Those are for another list. A small scrap tucked away, scrawled in messy ink, smudged before it could even dry.

Those things he wants so desperately but couldn’t consider. Couldn’t work towards without risking his neck.

You can only do that once, can’t you. There’s no trying again after it’s been slit.

So forgive him while he searches for the words, dragging his own mind over the coals and rolling his thoughts over and over and over again to try to make sense of it all. To try to justify a concept as delicate as Stede Might Fancy Him. In what fucking world?

..this one, apparently.

It has to be fake. Stede is confused, surely. Or cross with Ed and using Izzy as a wedge. Maybe it’s a play to make Izzy leave, seeing as force doesn’t work. It’s got to be something like that. That makes sense.

So then why are they thrumming with such powerful energy. Why is the gem in the hollow of his throat crying out so fucking loudly to submit?

I don’t, he nearly answers. It’s right on the tip of his tongue but he can’t quite get there. Doesn’t need to, really, it’s written all over his face.

Up until the point he crumbles and closes the space between them, eyes crushed closed, lips capturing lips with a desperate little whine.]

[finethings]

[Stede feels his focus shifting, narrowing, fading down to just Izzy, just the tortured look on his face, the uncertainty playing across it as clear as anything. His right hand takes a painfully slow path from Izzy's back up to his shoulder, where his thumb can stroke over the skin just above his collar.

He waits, with bated breath, for Izzy to make up his mind, and he's so certain Izzy is going to tell him to fuck off that when he kisses him it takes him by surprise. He doesn't take long to catch up, though, swallowing that desperate little sound Izzy makes with a rush of hunger and the hot sweep of Synchrony through his limbs.

His fingers move immediately to tangle into Izzy's hair, the other dropping to his waist to pull him in a little tighter. He finds himself afraid they if they break contact, the spell will break, Izzy will leave, and he'll be just as confused as ever. So he holds him close, kisses him more deeply. Tries to show him how he feels, as if the heady rush of their gems' connection weren't proof enough.]

[ninetoes]

[It rings so loudly through them, the crash of flesh like brass to the church bell. Wholly consuming. Demanding worship.

Being kissed like that is entirely disarming. Makes him weak in the knees. Stede could bring Izzy to his knees if he isn't careful.

Then again, what's he being careful for at this point? Is he not already on the precipice of losing everything? what would it cost him to find out?

Izzy wraps his fingers in the front of Stede's shirt and tries not to think about how he rises on his toes. Tries not to think too hard about the warmth of his body or how solid and broad and strong he is under all that finery. Definitely tries not to think about just how easily it demands Izzy's own attention in return or the noise he makes, ragged in the space for breath where opportunity presents itself.

He presses himself flush, like he's desperate for the contact- all of it- as much as he's able to cultivate vertically. It isn't enough. The danger of fleeing is still real, but not as real as his want. It's Izzy who finally breaks the kiss, catching Stede's bottom lip between his teeth and scraping before he breaks back to look at him with dark eyes full of want, tongue darting out across his own bottom lip.]

Why don't you show me just how sweet you can be.

[finethings]

[For a moment, kissing Izzy feels like being plunged underwater. Like he can't tell which way is up, heavy limbs thrashing, lungs screaming for air. The way Synchrony floods through them, so sudden and strong it's nearly overwhelming. Has it always been this strong? Stede doesn't think so.

And then Izzy is pulling him closer by the shirt, pressing himself close along the length of his body, and Stede gasps for breath, lets that sound Izzy makes ring through him with a shudder. The man kisses him like it's going out of style, the scrape of teeth and the tickle of his goatee against Stede's mouth leaving his heart racing.

He's already backing him toward the bed when Izzy speaks, his expression breathless and full of wonder and desire, like he can't quite believe his luck.]

I will. [Firm and decisive. He's already made up his mind not to squander this opportunity. Izzy's knees hit the back of the bed and Stede presses him back by the shoulder, intent on laying him out and taking his sweet time making him feel good. He leans across him, braced by one hand on the mattress, and catches his mouth in another kiss, deep and firm, while the other hand tugs at the loops holding the buttons of Izzy's vest in place.]