Chapter Text
A scream followed by a loud banging sound had Stede rushing towards the storeroom, terrified someone had gotten hurt. Of course, generally the bang comes before the shouting in these circumstances, and not after, but, well, no one thinks very clearly in times of stress. Stede had not considered this conundrum before he crashed through the door, eyes wide with fright and "are you hurt? What happened?" spilling from his mouth before he'd even registered the scene before him.
The room was perfectly orderly, no large barrels having squashed anyone's feet, no broken bottles turning the floor to a minefield. Nothing was out of place. In fact, the only person in the room was Izzy, and he was uninjured save the skinned knuckles he was sporting.
"I'm fucking fine, Bonnet," he hissed with more venom in his voice than Stede had ever heard, which was an impressive feat. "But I goddamn won't be in a few days. None of us will be, in fact, because your useless fuck of a scribe just killed us all."
Stede blinked and then frowned. "Now, Izzy, I'm sure it's nothing as serious as that. Would you care to explain the issue? Perhaps there's been a misunderstanding."
"The misunderstanding," Izzy bit out, "is that Spriggs apparently doesn't know that inventory isn't something to fuck around with! I told him to get off his boyfriend's prick and take stock last week if he wouldn't do any real fucking work around here, but the ponce decided to make shit up instead of doing his goddamned job. We're a week and a half out from the nearest port and we've only got enough fresh water to last two days." Izzy's teeth were bared, fingernails clawing into his palms; he looked every bit Blackbeard's attack dog. "So since we're all going to die out here anyway, Captain Bonnet, do I have permission to flay that fucker alive!?"
Stede's mouth had fallen open as he listen to Izzy's rant, and now he worked his jaw up and down in an attempt to respond, doing an impressive imitation of a fish. "Well, I-- That's truly awful--"
"Glad we're finally on the same page, then," Izzy snarled. "Figure it out after all this time, eh, that your lazy, undisciplined crew are a death sentence? Would've been nice for you to get that through your skull before we were on our way to our graves!" His fingers snatched at the air in front of him, as though desperate to grab at Stede. He had no doubt that Izzy was fantasizing about strangling him at this very moment.
Stede held up a cautious hand. "Now, Izzy, let's just--"
Izzy cut him off with a wave of his own hand. "Just go get fucking Edward, alright? Need a competent captain to help handle this shit," he sneered.
And, okay--Izzy was right. And it really hurt.
Stede gulped, and he nodded, and he fled.
---
The three of them (Ed had insisted on keeping Stede in the discussion, over Izzy's stringent objection) gathered in the captains' quarters to hash out a solution. Izzy had calmed somewhat when Ed pointed out that the Queen Anne was only a half day's sailing behind them, and they could share water, though that wouldn't solve the problem entirely. They'd have to forego bathing, as well--Izzy gave Stede a very pointed look at that. Stede kept quiet, for his part. This was all his fault, after all, and if he had to stink for the next week to keep everyone alive, then he would bear that burden.
There would be no clothes laundering, either.
And tea would be limited to one cup per day.
And they'd have to break into their fancy booze stores, to water down the wines and ales and gins to make the fresh water they did have last longer.
Izzy, for his part, allowed Stede a generous single small bucket of water to splash on his face in the mornings.
Well. No one said he had to bear this burden happily.
---
They emerged from the ordeal haggard and disgusting but, blessedly, alive. Running a ship with a consistently tipsy crew proved to be a challenge, but Izzy stepped up to the task--Ed told Stede one afternoon that most pirate crews were drunk all the time, anyways, and Stede's relatively sober ship was quite the anomaly.
"I think he prefers it that way, really, mate," he said as he gulped down water--just water, good and cool and fresh and not mixed with wine. The ship swayed lazily on the tide. The two of them were the only people aboard; the rest had (quite understandably) scattered as soon as they'd made port. Even Izzy, normally reluctant to leave the ship, had vanished. "Running a drunk crew is easier in some ways, y'know. We should do this more often." He grinned.
Stede shuddered. "Absolutely not. It was bad enough once. I don't think I'll ever feel clean again. And watering down those vintages is going to haunt me for ages."
Ed elbowed him good-naturedly. "Naww, I'm just messing with you." The two of them sat in silence for a pleasant moment, watching Olivia lazily circle the crow's nest. Out of the corner of his eye, Stede saw Ed frown. "But, y'know, we do need to make sure this doesn't happen again."
Stede sighed. "Yes, Izzy told me this was a result of Lucius' mistake. I don't know what to do about it."
"Hell of a mistake to make, mate."
"Alright, maybe it was worse than a mistake," Stede said, wringing his hands.
"Damn fucking right. Even the stupidest captains don't usually fuck shit up that badly. It's not even a rookie mistake, even greenhorns know better than to let that happen."
"Oh, okay, yes, it was a monumentally awful thing to do!" Stede was nearly beside himself. "It was terrible and I feel awful about it."
Ed's frown deepened. "You're not the dumbass that fucked with the inventory, why are you feeling bad?"
"Because Lucius is my responsibility!" Stede's head fell into his hands. "I'm the one that hired him on, I'm the one that let him slack off all this time, and now we all nearly died and it's my fault."
Ed hmmed. "That's Izzy talking, isn't it." He took Stede's lack of a response as confirmation. "Well, he isn't wrong."
"I know," Stede groaned.
"I know I'm not as much of a hardass as he is, but there's some shit you really can't fuck around with on a ship. Inventory's one of them." Ed was looking at him now, a steely glint in his eyes that belied far more anger than he was letting on.
"I know!" Stede sighed. "I just have no idea what to do about it."
"Mm. I dunno either. Crew discipline's never been my thing, honestly. Izzy'd have some ideas."
"I am not letting him flay Lucius alive," Stede responded hotly.
Ed chuckled. "He talks big shit, sure, but he wouldn't actually do that, you know. Unless I told him to. He's a menace to his enemies, but he does know better than to kill off his own crew. He wouldn't kill the guy no matter how mad he was at him."
"Be that as it may, I'm not going to have his punishment be corporal in nature," Stede huffed. "I don't know what it'll be, but not that." He shook his head. "What I really need right now is a bath. I can't think straight feeling so nasty."
"Think about it," Ed prompted. "And talk to Izzy, even if you don't agree with him. But now that you mention it, a bath does sound like a really good idea..." He waggled his eyebrows.
Stede felt laughter bubbling up his throat. "Oh, does it, now?" He asked, amusement lacing his voice. "And here, I was just getting used to this filthy pirate lifestyle..."
Ed surged forward, capturing Stede's lips in a surprisingly enthusiastic kiss. Stede was happy to oblige, letting his hands creep up Ed's sides, under his shirt. They broke apart gasping for a moment, and Ed grumbled "Oh, I'll show you filthy" before practically dragging him to the bath.
--
Stede hemmed and hawwed his way through the next few days. He truly had no idea what to do about Lucius, and he was dreading the idea of talking to Izzy about it, of all people. But there was nothing for it, and so instead of allowing Izzy to retreat to his room for supper as was his habit, Stede pulled him aside one evening.
"The fuck do you want?"
Stede frowned at his rudeness; this was no way for Izzy to address his captain. He filed the thought away for the moment and instead said "I wanted to ask you about Lucius' punishment."
"Ten lashes," Izzy replied immediately. "He endangered the lives of the entire crew, that's tantamount to treason. He should get the number of lashes due a traitor."
"No, that's not--" Stede sputtered in exasperation. "I'm not going to have him flogged."
Izzy rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall. "Then what the fuck are you going to do, Bonnet? Feed him sweetcakes?"
"I'm saying there must be some other way of punishing him that doesn't involve maiming!" Stede threw up his hands. "Ed told me you'd have an idea of what to do!"
"And my idea is lashes," Izzy said flatly. "That's how this shit works, Bonnet, on every other ship. And I wouldn't be maiming him. Just making sure he feels what he's done."
"Well, it doesn't work like that here! I won't stand for it."
Izzy shrugged. "Then come up with something yourself, Captain. It's your fucking job. If everyone on this ship would do their fucking jobs, we wouldn't have gotten into that mess in the first place." He pushed himself off the wall, turning to slink away to his cabin. "Useless, every goddamn one of you."
Something flared in Stede's chest, then, and his hand shot out to grab Izzy by the shoulder. The first mate whirled around, eyes narrowed.
"Prove it."
"Prove what?" Izzy's brows furrowed.
"Prove to me that flogging him would be a good idea. That it wouldn't maim him."
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"Hit me first," Stede heard himself say. "Show me what it feels like. I'll decide if Lucius should get lashes afterwards."
Izzy scoffed. "Fuck off, Bonnet, Edward would go ballistic if he saw I'd hurt his pretty little boyfriend. I don't fancy eating the rest of my toes."
"I'll tell him myself, then. That I made you do it." Stede's eyes darkened. "I will make this an order if I have to, Izzy."
Izzy clenched his teeth, narrowed his eyes. Regarded Stede for a long moment. Then he threw up his hands. "Fine, then. Fucking fine. It's your head." Then he stalked off, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like goddamned madman.
Stede blinked, unsure of what he was meant to do, before hearing Izzy's irritated voice sound from the hallway. "Come the fuck on."
The two of them retreated to Izzy's cabin, and the first mate crouched to reach under his cot, dragging out a small crate and opening it to reveal his few personal belongings. After rummaging for a moment, he pulled out a cat-o'-nine-tails, swung it lightly against his palm. The tails smacked against his hand with a sound that rang out like a gunshot in Stede's ears. The reality of the situation sunk in--he had just asked, nay, demanded that his first mate beat him with that thing. He gulped. Maybe he should just call this off, go back to his day, forget about the whole thing. But Izzy would never let him live it down.
"Brought this over thinking I'd be using it on your crew. Didn't realize how namby-pamby your circus of a ship would be." There was an odd gleam in Izzy's eye. "Still not too late for that."
Stede shook his head. "Let's just--just get on with this."
Izzy stood. "Shirt off, then."
Stede blinked. "Ahh, yes, right--right." His fingers flew to his overshirt, fumbling at the buttons. A strange feeling had settled like a stone, low in his belly.
After a fruitless couple of minutes spent fussing at his clothing, Izzy rolled his eyes and batted Stede's hands away. "Just fucking--let me--" his fingers wormed between the laces as Stede's arms fell uselessly to his sides. His mind had gone oddly empty. He hardly even noticed when his shirt was stripped off of him.
"Face the wall." Izzy's tone was oddly flat, sending a shiver down Stede's spine. "Normally you'd be tied to the main mast, and the rest of the crew would be watching. Helps keep everyone in line."
"Right." Stede surprised himself by replying in that same distant tone.
"For now, just put your hands against the wall. The tails wrap, don't want them hitting your arms."
Stede complied, vaguely confused by his response to all of this. That seemed like too much to think about right now, though, so he let the thought fall from his mind.
"How many lashes, captain?"
Oh. "Uhm. However many would get the point across, I suppose."
Izzy hmmed. "I'll do five." Stede jolted as a leather-gloved finger pressed into his upper back. "This is where they'll go. Can't go too low or you'd be pissing blood tomorrow. And spanking's for boys, not men."
"Right. Well." Stede blinked, the breath in his throat sharp with anticipation. "Um. Get on with it, then."
Izzy remained silent as Stede stared at the wall in front of him, skin tingling.
Then a searing pain tore its way across Stede's back, and the only thing that kept him from screaming was the gasp that he yanked into his lungs instead. As it was, a long, low whine made its way past his clenched teeth. The tails had made contact for only a brief moment, but he still felt them burning his flesh, raising welts where they'd landed.
There was a shuffling sound behind him, and then something was being shoved into his mouth. "Bite that instead of your tongue." Stede tasted leather--Izzy's glove.
"That's one. Normally I'd be having you count aloud." Izzy's tone had not fluctuated, but now he sounded almost soft.
Stede could only grunt around the improvised gag.
Izzy raised the cat again, and muffled by the glove, Stede let himself wail as the tails crisscrossed over the previous welts. The agony sharpened, honed to a pinprick point in his head, and he felt himself approaching it, Rapunzel to the spindle.
Something hot dripped down his face, and for one utterly mad moment he thought it might be blood before realizing he was crying.
"Two."
Stede sucked in a breath through his nose.
Izzy's hand landed on his shoulder, and instead of jolting, he sank into the feeling. "Kneel down. I can't reach properly when you're standing. And that dolt Spriggs is even taller than you are, so you'd be getting the same experience."
Stede fell to his knees more haphazardly than he'd intended, and Izzy made a sound behind him.
"Hands over your head."
He nearly smacked his ear in his haste to comply.
Izzy said nothing more, but the air weighed heavy between them. The whushing of the cattails was Stede's only warning before pain bloomed across his shoulder blades once more, clawing over the scores laid beneath them, and Stede was falling, falling deep to a place that fizzed and burned in his head.
It hurt but it felt so good, was the thing. It felt right. He really did deserve this, quite honestly. Lucius may have been the one to screw things up, but Lucius was his responsibility, and so his punishment was also Stede's to bear. An ache deep in his chest was lifting, an ache he hadn't been fully aware of until now. The tears flowed more freely now.
"Three."
Fuck. He was hard. Why was he hard? Fuck. He let the air whoosh shakily from his lungs. Shifted his knees.
"Fucking hell, Bonnet, are you crying?"
Shit. He only nodded, not trusting his voice to remain steady--not knowing what the hell kind of sound would come out if he tried to speak.
"Three lashes and you're weeping like a babe. You know, I almost respected you for a moment." Izzy flicked the cat beside Stede's ear, making him jump away from the sound. "A captain should be able to take it as well as he dishes it out. Should've known you'd be such a soft, weak thing. Pathetic excuse for a captain."
Hot shame burned its way up Stede's cheeks, to his ears, but Izzy's words somehow also sent a lightning bolt of arousal directly south. He let his chin drop to rest on his bare chest, eyes squeezed shut, furious at the traitorous tears that kept spilling from them. Oh, this had all gone downhill very quickly.
Izzy neglected to warn him before bringing the cat down upon him once again, and Stede howled into his gag. The first mate may as well have taken a branding iron to his back. His heart lurched at the wild thought--yes, let Izzy brand him, let the whole world know how useless a captain he really was--
He was ridiculously aroused. His head swam with it.
"Four." Izzy's voice had gone hard as steel. "Listen to you carry on. It's a miracle the whole ship hasn't heard you. Perhaps we should have done this on the deck, eh? Let them all know how shit you are. You don't deserve to be a captain. I wouldn't even hire you on as a cabin boy."
Stede ground the glove between his teeth in an effort to keep from moaning. Why were Izzy's words affecting him like this? His mind was slipping through his fingers, thoughts pouring like water through a sieve. Just keeping his hands over his head was taking a monumental amount of effort.
Then the cattails dragged through his flesh one final time, and Stede fell forward onto his hands and knees, glove dropping from his mouth as he sobbed openly. Something oozed from one of the welts, and alright, that was blood--not too terribly much, but he felt every millisecond of the single fat drop rolling down his back. Without missing a beat, Izzy grasped him by the hair and pulled, yanking him up to lean Stede back against his leg, tilting his chin up to meet Izzy's eyes for the first time since all of this began. He was surprised to see Izzy in nearly as much disarray as himself, a feral glint in his gaze, pupils dilated and face reddened and hair mussed.
"Five."
The both of them were breathing heavily.
"Fucking hell, Bonnet. You're hardly even bleeding. Throwing a fit like a goddamn toddler."
Something babbled its way out of Stede's mouth, and it took his brain a few moments to catch up; he was apologizing, I'm sorry and you're right and I deserved it and please, Izzy spilling from him in a jumble. He could hardly hear his own thoughts over the buzzing at the base of his skull. He needed--something.
"God, do you ever shut up," Izzy spat, and in one motion he jerked Stede around to face him, pulled his own impressively hard cock out of his trousers, and jammed it into Stede's mouth.
Stede fell to the new task with aplomb--yes, yes, this was perfect, this was exactly what he'd wanted. This was a way he could be useful to Izzy. His eyes drifted shut as he relaxed his throat, allowing Izzy to thrust into him ferverously. He leaned his body against Izzy's leg, and when his groin found Izzy's boot, he ground down onto it with wild abandon, moaning like a bitch in heat.
Izzy's rhythm quickly grew stuttering and erratic, and Stede gagged at the irregular intrusion, unable to draw proper breaths. Izzy groaned above him at the convulsing sensation, grasping ever tighter at Stede's scalp, hauling him forward as he fucked his face. Stede's rutting became similarly chaotic, chasing sensation more than anything else.
Izzy gave no warning before shoving himself as deep into Stede as he could and spilling down his throat. Stede followed him a moment later, a stain spreading at the join of his trousers.
For one small moment, the world was frozen in time. Then Izzy unceremoniously pushed him down and away, and Stede let himself fall flat on his back, the thud of the floor setting newfound fire to his welts. He groaned and coughed.
Izzy sat back on his bed, slouching. He suddenly looked every bit his age. "Get out, Bonnet."
"Wha--?" Stede felt too dizzy to think straight.
"Just go." He sounded exhausted. "Get out."
"Alright, I--yes, alright--" Somehow, he stood on legs with the consistency of jelly, gathered up his discarded clothing. And he gulped, and he nodded, and he fled.