ninetoes | Noctium Inbox

[Stede finds his eye drawn, briefly, to that tempting glimpse of Izzy's throat, the ruby peeking through, the ring unable to escape his notice. Still there...That gives him a dangerous spark of hope. And the air between them feels thin enough to combust at any moment.

He's caught momentarily wordless, though, by the admission that wrenches its way from Izzy's throat. He opens his mouth to speak, thinks the better of it, licks his lips.

His gaze burns into Izzy as he steps forward, and lifts a hand to his tie. Not to wrap and tug, but just settling over it, his fingers brushing that ruby glowing at the base of his throat.]

The feeling is mutual. But...it's such a sweet agony. [A quick, ragged breath.]

Stay.

[The bells which ring for them and them alone begin to hum the moment Stede touches him. A soft vibration in the ends of their nerves and up through the cores of their bodies.

Izzy has never heard of a singing bowl, but it's that kind ringing. The sort that takes a man over and to his knees.

His knees don't fall, but they threaten to buckle the same way the rest of him threatens to follow under Stede's touch - eyes locked. Izzy wets his lips as well, an echo by reflex.

Stay.

He doesn't know if he can. Or should. Or wants to.

He doesn't know if he's capable of not, either.

Nope, turns out he's not.]

I'm listening.

[Stede's lashes flutter as he feels the connection between them spark to life. Relief floods him right along side it, that it still exists. It's real, tangible, and completely their own.

Izzy is listening. That's a step in the right direction. His hand moves, fingertips dragging upward over the knot of Izzy's tie, the ring held securely there, and then the bare skin of his throat. They settle just beneath his jaw, the heel of his hand resting on his Adam's apple.

He doesn't squeeze. The only pressure is from the weight of his hand, warm and sure.]

We'll fix it. Find a way to be happy. Just, [he has to pause, to swallow back the emotion that threatens to overwhelm him,] let us love you.

[Sometimes, when he is at his lowest, when the night is dark and everyone is asleep, when he's too tired to pretend he doesn't have a heart, Izzy will quietly slip that ring from his cravat onto his left ring finger. Just to pretend, for a moment, that someone loves him like that.

It's wild, Izzy thinks, how one touch and one specific word can core him out so thoroughly.

Is this all there is? has an answer. Edward asked him months ago when they boarded Stede's ship. When they met him properly and not some ridiculous, posturing standoff in the jungle. A standoff that ha, as Izzy saw it until perhaps very recently, ruined his life. Ambushed by a beautiful, wild eyed man whose bizarre mix of foppery and brazen disregard for professional conduct called Izzy to cut his name in the man's shirt. In a way, Izzy claimed Stede before Edward ever could. And look where's that's gotten him now - ambushed again on the deck of his- their own fucking ship. This time to stay. This time to make use of that vile, dangerous, intoxicating word. How dare he.]

Don't-

[But it's weak. Small, hoarse. Izzy's body is relaxed into Stede's touch, boneless the way he'd been at knife point that fateful first meeting. He doesn't know what it is he can't reject in full. People don't love him. People like him don't get that, they just don't. To suggest otherwise--]

Don't say that word to me, I can't, Stede-

[Hyperaware as he is of Izzy's presence, Stede can't miss the way he relaxes into his touch, watches the muscles of his face relax. Whether he realizes it's happening or not, Stede doesn't know, but he's not going to say anything to break the spell.

His fingers twitch, just once, at the word don't. The agony of it sends a pang through Stede's chest, straight to his tender heart, and his lips part to draw a ragged breath. His immediate instinct is to double down—

—but now's not the time. It's just a word, certainly, but words have meanings, and if Izzy isn't ready to hear it, he won't say it again. The corner of his mouth twitches into a tiny smile.]

Then let us be sweet to you. Or not. Both. Whatever you like.

[Whatever he wants. Stede will give it to him. And Ed...they'll figure that out, if Izzy will allow it.]

[Is he not ready to hear it? Maybe not. Maybe he never will be. Maybe he needs that decision to be made for him.

Sweet he can deal with. He knows what the means. In truth he knows what all of it means, it's just so fucking difficult to apply it to himself. To see that sort of thing for himself. To have that and it be real.

Maybe it's all too much. Too fast. Too visceral.

Maybe it's what he's always wanted.

Izzy presses himself further into Stede's grip. His eyes are very bright in the moonlight on account of their threatening wetness, and he is, for a moment, moved to guide Stede's hand from his throat to the tattoo on his chest.

Just to really remove his own decision. But, no. No, this needs to be done with a clear head, doesn't it. Painful as that may be, for better or worse, come what may.]

Shut up and kiss me, Bonnet.

[Izzy presses closer, and Stede's emotions threaten to swallow him whole. Izzy's eyes are shining, twin pools reflecting that huge, golden moon, and Stede thinks, not for the first time, that he is beautiful when he's not being terrible. When he speaks again, Stede's smile breaks through his trepidation, a thrum of happy warmth pulsing in their connection.

He doesn't say anything else. That would defeat the point. His hand turns, moving to cradle Izzy's jaw and pull him in for a kiss that's flooded with relief and feeling and sheer want. His brows furrow like he's trying to convey exactly how he's feeling with the warm, eager crush of his lips.

God, but he's trying.]

[Stede's kiss is searing and Izzy melts into it in a way that would be embarrassing if he didn't want it to much.

It is the longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible. Nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could be, regret over not being someone else and enormous dissatisfaction with the world's existence. All these half-tones of the soul's consciousness creating in them a painful landscape. an eternal sunset of what they are.

Maybe if he were a different person, Edward would have loved him the way he loves Stede. Maybe if he were a different person, he could love the both of them in return. He doesn't know what love can be. Never been allowed that opportunity in the realm of safety.

This, now, is not safety, but it might be something close. He won't know for sure until he allows himself surrender and follows inside with the same trust he follows Stede's lips against his own - parting for him easily, begging for permission before he's able to change his mind.]

[Izzy melts into him so easily, and Stede feels triumph surge in his veins in equal measure to the jealousy he'd felt rear its ugly head two nights ago. His right hand remains in place, holding Izzy's cheek, while the left finds itself firmly planted at the small of his back, pulling him in close. He feels Izzy's lips part and takes the invitation without a second thought, licking into his mouth to taste him.

It strikes him how much he's missed this, missed the give and take of their conversations, the tension ratcheting higher and higher until something inevitably snaps and they're right back here, all over each other. He loves it. He often finds himself wondering what might have happened if he had thought to press a little harder during their first, ill-fated meeting. If he'd pressed that knife a little harder into Izzy's cheek, marched him off into the jungle and...

Stede pulls back, lungs burning, gasping for air like a drowning man. He doesn't stay away for long, though, moving to press soft, slow kisses to Izzy's cheek, lingering over the tattoo below his eye, and then to the wrinkle of his forehead, and the edge of his hairline.]

Thank you, [he murmurs, low and warm and happy,] for coming back.

[Were Izzy alone, that day in the jungle, he might have considered it. A rough, chance meeting. A display of power, no one else there to perform in front of...yeah. He could have gotten behind that idea. Under. Over. Doesn't matter.

It wouldn't have been anything like this, suffering soft kisses across his face. Places no one has ever thought to kiss him. Too tender. Too intimate. This is why Stede is so very, very dangerous.

Still, he tips his head just slightly to allow the man whatever access he could desire, finally placing his hands on Stede's hips.]

You say that now.

[This is their moment, just for Stede and he, but it can only last so long.]

Is he furious?

Mmm. I'll say it again later, too.

[Stede hums against Izzy's hair as he speaks, almost a laugh, and pulls him in a little tighter, encouraged by the hands that settle on his hips. He's so happy he could burst; nothing could spoil his mood right now.

He makes a noncommittal sort of noise, bobbing his head left to right.]

Hard to say. [Mostly, Ed has just seemed sad, but it's hard to tell how he'll react to seeing Izzy in the flesh again after so long. Stede sighs, smiling faintly down at him, thumb stroking over his jaw to feel the stubble creeping in there.] You ought to go and find him sooner rather than later...loath as I am to let you go at the moment.

[Three things.

Firstly, it's been like three days.

Secondly, loathe as you are- that is so aggressively romantic, what the hell is he supposed to do with that except melt? Except toss out all the anger he's been gathering and sharpening in preparation for a fight that hasn't come.

Thirdly, and this is the bit that stops Izzy and really gives him pause. Makes him lean back for eye to eye.]

Alone?

[Three agonizing days spent peering through a spyglass. Sue him.

Stede pauses, blinking a few times; of all the things Izzy could have said in response, that wasn't one he expected. A single word, a question, and all the implied vulnerability behind it. Stede fumbles, uncertain.]

I didn't think—well, I rather thought— [Deep breath.] You want me there?

[His turn to be vulnerable.]

[Logically, Izzy tells himself, Edward is far less likely to kill him in Stede's presence.

Rightfully, he is scared.

Foolishly, he doesn't want to go alone, and even worse is the terrible concept of having to pull himself away from Stede's safety.

And that...that is a thought that he has just had to fully realize. Fuck.

Izzy immediately reconsiders his plea and wonders if he misspoke out of fear, but finds himself at the same conclusion. He wants Stede near, if not next to him, if Edward insists on privacy, then at least near by.]

I think I do, yeah.

[Stede's hand finally moves from Izzy's jaw, sliding back to card through the hair at the nape of his neck. Holding him close, still, but he doesn't want to obscure any of the expression on Izzy's face, limned in golden moonlight.

Izzy wants him to come. Wants him there. The three of them. It makes his heart pound a little faster, both with happiness and a touch of nerves.]

I couldn't possibly say no to that, [he murmurs, low and fond.] We'll go when you're ready.

[Ready, huh. If they wait for that then they may never go.
Hesitation is plain on Izzy's face as he lingers, wondering if he could
just sink back in. Have another kiss. Bask against Stede's chest for a
moment and pretend nothing hurts and everything is okay.

A beat. He closes his eyes and takes a breath.

When he opens them again, he's forced himself to shift gears and tug all
his armor back on. It isn't time to go to work, but it's a similar mindset.
Time to go to war, perhaps. He's so tired of going to war with Edward.

This is all so...muddy, and Izzy hates it. He wants clear directions and
not to ask questions. He wants pathways and plans, not...emotions and
second guessing. He had felt powerful walking out the way he had. Like he
was doing something for himself... but at what cost? Was it really freedom?
Or just another blade between the ribs. He's scared. That's the truth of
it. Scared to lose anything, scared to gain. Scared of what change
brings...always has been.

Izzy pulls himself back and nods.]

I'm ready.

Edited 2022-11-10 00:16 (UTC)

[Stede just watches, fascinated, as Izzy closes his eyes and seems to steel himself. He can see the pieces fitting back together, the same ones he'd just wrenched apart. It breaks his heart, a little bit, watching his expression shift, but when Izzy opens his eyes again, Stede just smiles.]

Good. Come on, then, I think I heard him tinkering with the piano in the lounge.

[At his side, his hand opens, offered to Izzy whether he'll take it or not. He's going to do this properly, damn it.]

[You have no idea how badly he wants to take that hand. He does, he really, really fucking does. And he even reaches for it for a moment before something in the back of his head needles a joke about walking down an aisle like a pussy. Ruins everything.

Izzy stops his stupid hand, growls, and pointedly forges ahead with a mutter.]

[Stede watches from the corner of his eye as that hand reaches out, hesitates, and then withdraws as Izzy marches ahead. It stings, a little, but mostly because Izzy clearly wanted to do it and something's holding him back.

It's alright. It's enough, for now. He follows Izzy up to the lounge, barely able to keep his brain from racing ahead. They've got to take this one breath at a time. When they reach the door, Stede holds up a hand to Izzy and goes ahead, leaning against the doorway to peer inside.]

Edward? I've brought someone to see you, my love!

[Impossible to keep the excitement from his voice. He steps into the room as he says it, leaving room for Izzy to come forward unobscured.]

Laying on the sofa within the sky lounge, Edward is rehearsing the incoming conversation in his head. Stede had prepared him to the best of his ability, but they'd both agreed that nothing would be meaningful to Izzy unless it came from Edward himself, and he couldn't screw this up. He knows Izzy is on board, he hadn't been far from Stede when he overheard him freaking out. He had half a mind to join him on deck and wait, but cowardice took hold of him and he'd retreated to the higher floors, too terrified he might ruin it all again.

So far, he hasn't handled this extremely well. The evening was filled with anxious pacing and tickling random piano keys, Edward eventually collapsing on the sofa to smoke and calm himself down. It only half-worked, he was still running scenarios, leg jostling off the end of the sofa nervously to expell excess energy. When the door clicks open across the room, Edward sits bolt upright, eyes wide with emotion as he watches the two of them enter the room. His eyes lock to Stede for a moment, desperate, as if trying to read on him that everything is going to be okay (which he hopes it will be, considering Izzy’sintroduction), then shift to his first mate, gauging his mood.

Ed turns, his feet sliding off of the sofa and onto the floor, but he doesn't stand just yet.

"Iz..." he breathes, his voice soft. He frankly looks fucking horrible; dressed in loose slacks and a dark robe that he snatched from Izzy’s room below deck because it smelled like him. He looks like he either hasn't slept in days or has only just come out of hibernation. There had been a moment when he'd tried to make himself look presentable, not wanting to show vulnerability, but in the end anxiety took over and he'd never managed it, becoming distracted and pacing instead.

Edited 2022-11-10 01:50 (UTC)

Izzy notes the robe immediately, alongside Edward's state of disarray, and wonders just how curated it is. He's seen Ed a mess over Stede, but over him? It feels like a hollow joke. Another fuckery in a long line of Edward's finest that Izzy has fallen for without question year after year.

Blackbeard, of course, being the greatest of them all.

Izzy glances briefly at Stede before looking back to Edward, his back like a ramrod and hackles on high alert.

He's here. Not because he particularly wants to be. He is angry, wounded, and hurting in ways he can't even begin to put to word, not to mention confused and tentatively hopeful.

"Edward."

It's formal. There's a read on his mood. Like he's ready to listen for orders or take a berating, a humiliation, and fuck off again. Like he's expecting his entire interaction with Stede right now to have been a honeypot trap. Izzy doesn't summon any magic in warning, but the pads of his fingertips are hot as he prepares for any and all sudden changes in circumstance. No trust.

Stede watches as they exchange one-word greetings, his heart breaking over the longing in Ed's voice, the guarded nature of Izzy's reply. He gives the latter an encouraging nod and a smile, and then turns to Ed as his hand comes to rest, warm and firm, between Izzy's shoulder blades.

"Izzy, Edward has some things he'd like to say to you, if you're willing to listen." He looks at Ed as he says it, giving him an equally encouraging look, trying to convey his support. Just like they'd talked about, and he'll be right here in case things go sideways. For both of them.

He has nothing to lose. He already feels he's lost Izzy and all he can do is follow Stede's suggestions. If he gave it his all and Izzy doesn't buy it? Or worse, if he's utterly fucking repulsed... well, Stede can't be mad at him. Deep breaths, here does nothing.

"You were right, Iz..." he murmurs, hands nervously picking at themselves. They flex, clench into tight balls for a moment, then release flat on his thighs, which he uses as momentum to push himself to stand. God, this feels so fucking pathetic. "I haven't been-- hm. I fucked up. I wanted us all to sail together, but I couldn't admit that the hull was cracked and needed repair."

Hubris. He sees that now, he supposes. It's a stupid and frankly overused metaphor, but it's one they both understand. Edward pushes forward until he's standing a few steps away from Izzy, careful. "So let's fucking fix it, man. Please?"

Edward is, amongst many things, a marvellous actor. He really is, but this right here… it’s difficult see what might be true and what might not. Where that line has been drawn. Where Stede may have assisted.

Edward’s lied to him before, is the thing. Kind of the beginning of everything going down hill in the Stede department. Unshared plans. Misdirection. Promises.

It would be nice if promises could mean something again. Wouldn’t that just be so fucking lovely.

Izzy watches Ed approach with the same sort of wariness one watches a dog known to bite.

He listens, lips pressed thin, expression pained. He wants to be mean about it. Wants to be fucking hideous and lash out snarling and spitting venom, but he doesn’t. Izzy can still feel the crunch of flesh between his teeth.

He knows better.

A swallow.

He doesn’t want to go through that again. Isn’t sure he can bear to, not without significant gain, and circumstances have changed…considerably.

“How?” Finally. It’s not a no but it’s not a yes. Because he used to believe in repairing hulls. A series of intricate patchworks until the vessel was more that than ship, but they’ve kept afloat past their prime. That’s something to be proud of. Still looks pretty shit in the face of a shiny new ship more than a decade younger. A ship that, for whatever deranged reason, claims interest in a fleet.

So fix this, fix all this…it feels impossible. Feels insane. He can’t see the way home anymore.

How, indeed. Edward looks to Stede for help, stuttering for a moment as he tries to find the right words.

This is so fucking difficult. It's difficult enough to be vulnerable, to be aware of Izzy’s emotions as well as his own. To acknowledge them and massage them enough to make things right. On top of all of this he needs to be blunt. He needs to give Izzy an order or he knows the man won't take him seriously. He must delicately balance vulnerability and control. Be sensitive but not too sensitive. Stede's tactics will only get him so far.

"Stede thinks we should talk it through..." he mutters quietly, but he sounds so unsure. How do you unpack years of this? Especially when one of the last things Izzy had said to him was that his word means nothing. Izzy feels lied to. Edward can't change that. He supposes he lied, even though he thought he was telling the truth at the time. All of them.

He knows his first mate is a scared dog, ready to bite. He knows he needs to be cautious, and so his hand is always within sight. Edward shakes his head, raising it between them, a sort of wait signal. "Hold on-- let me... I have more to say."

Hand open and warm, he moves forward again, until it's pressed right over Izzy’s cheek. His thumb rests right over Ed's own branding on Izzy’s cheekbone, where it rubs gently, drawing attention to it.

"You're mine, Iz. And I've done some fucked up shit to keep you all to myself. But let's not pretend you haven't done some fucked up shit to keep me to yourself, either."

Ed's voice is more confident in that, because it's fact, not feeling. And he shouldn't have to explain himself for Izzy to know what he's referring to- for any of them to, but he knows he won't need to. They can talk it through is Izzy agrees to it, but until he bends, Ed needs to hit him with everything he's got. He doesn't take a breath.

"But beyond all that fucking each other over, we still found commonality. I know it's fucking in you. One more shot, for old time's sake. I mean it Iz, I know you're tired... but let's make this world ours, for real. All three of us."

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fuck ur fuckin brackets

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