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“Don’t you start.”
Izzy’s attention snaps around, automatically on the defensive, wondering what has gotten into Twatty now? “Don’t start: what?”
“About Pete.”
“What about Pete?”
Lucius stubs out the final embers of his cigarette, tosses it overboard, and puts his weight on one hip, cooly watching him. “I don’t know, but you’re a dick about everything, so I expect you’ll be a dick about him.”
“I’m a dick when someone deserves it.” Izzy hadn’t even been looking at Pete, he’d been looking outside of the world and into something else, but now he realises his gaze could have been interpreted as on him.
And maybe, before, if Lucius had poked him that way he’d have lashed out with his tongue. Right now he feels no need to, though.
“Pete’s solid. Not the firmest grip on reality, but who does on this ship? Decent sailor. Seems to do you right. You could do a lot worse.”
That’s high praise coming from him, because he rarely bothers to say anything remotely positive to anyone. He never really has.
He’s… seen how it could… help. Sometimes. Maybe. Seen how it’s built some people up, where the reverse would knock them down. It wasn’t easy to acknowledge there were other methods of handling people, and that they maybe had benefits, but the proof is there, in front of him. Stede isn’t entirely wrong. Just about lots of things, most of which relate to ships, seafaring, and fashion. (No one needs so many bloody outfits or so much colour.)
“Oh.”
“Having second thoughts?” Izzy asks. Not to be a bitch, but because he wants to jolt the boy into realising he shouldn’t.
“No! Oh god, no! Pete is fucking amazing. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Then you need to remember that, and not let go of it.” Izzy plants his hoof, pushing forward from the mast, wanting some distance.
He can feel Lucius’ eyes follow him. That boy… that boy had issues before Blackbeard threw him overboard, but now he’s got whole new ones. He’s still young, though, and that beau of his might just be bright enough to help him through it.
***
“He’s going to start thinking you’ve got a problem,” Izzy says, identifying the footsteps behind him that shuffle awkwardly towards him.
It’s late, and almost everyone is asleep. Lucius should be asleep with that boy of his, but he’s here, in the dark, with Izzy at the prow.
“Well, he knows I have problems. Lots of them.”
At least he knows, Izzy thinks to himself, but invites nothing overtly further. Lucius clearly wants his company, for whatever reason he feels he needs it. The boy hangs back to one side, his ever-present nicotine companion moving between lips and fingers.
“I was drawing Blackbeard non-stop. Didn’t tell anyone… didn’t even really know I was doing it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t even - it wasn’t - I mean… I’m not into him.”
“Edward?”
“Yeah.” Lucius taps ash over the side. “Don’t get me wrong, I can see the appeal in theory, but the same way I can in lots of guys. Prettier to look at than try to do anything with. Maybe if you’re both drunk, and it’s never going to be an issue…”
Izzy can’t help but smile. “You’ve thought about it more than a little.”
“I think about a lot of things, a lot of the time. Doesn’t mean I ever do anything.”
He’s telling him this for a reason. Old Izzy would have mocked him, or told him to fuck off, or used it, somehow. He’s… he’s getting soft, in his old age, maybe. Or he’s finding too much of an older self in this one.
“What is it you really want, boy?”
“In… general? From… from Pete?”
Izzy hasn’t picked up another piece of wood since the shark. He’d needed to do something, to finish something, to close that down. It’s done, and now his hands are still.
Or they were, until the boy came up, just now.
“Any of it.”
“I… I don’t… I don’t understand what you’re--”
“You’re settling with Pete, right?”
“It’s not ‘settling’. It’s committing.”
“But… what? What does that mean, to you?” Izzy tilts his head. “You don’t know, do you? I knew you were a bedroll wanderer, but you seemed happy with that, before.”
“That’s… different.”
Izzy doesn’t mind, any which way. He’s found most people have one of two or three ways of viewing this sort of thing, and he’d mistaken Pete as someone who hooked on and stayed hooked on. Pete had never shown the slightest interest in anyone else, where Lucius’ eyes wandered all over the ship.
“You said you didn’t ‘belong’ to one another.”
“Belonging ‘to’ and ‘with’ are different.” The cigarette is dropped, stomped, swirled under foot.
“So I see.”
“Why are you even asking? You jealous, Izzy? You jealous that we can love one another, and not make it hell? Is that why you tried to kill Stede?”
“Something like.”
Lucius’ dropped jaw is… gratifying. Izzy folds his arms over the rail, dropping his weight onto his elbows.
“There’s no rules, not for people like us. We make our own rules. Sometimes that makes it easier, and sometimes it makes it really, really fucking hard.” Izzy hears the boy move to settle opposite him, staring out into the darkness.
“You think I’m weird, don’t you?”
“Why do you think that?”
“Well… you… fuck it. You were the only one ever had a problem with me and Pete, and then you tried to… when you found me drawing Fang…”
“You’re not as smart as you think you are, you know.” Izzy glances sideways. “It’ll come with age. Experience.”
“R-riiiight.”
“Time was I was more like you. Younger me. Might’ve given you a run for your money.”
That clearly catches Lucius off-guard, judging by the splutter.
“What? You think I never had any fun?”
“Well, you don’t seem to, now!”
“No.” Izzy shrugs. “Not now.”
He can feel all the questions he’s invited, and feel how they weigh the air down between them. God knows, Izzy’s never told anyone about this. No one really knows, except for Ed. Even then, how much Ed knows is debatable. Izzy’s pretty sure he’s surrounded by idiots, because no one’s ever put two and two together.
Bunch of illiterate, innumerate, unobservant idiots.
“...Ed?”
“Something like. Something like that, and… getting older. Seeing everyone else go. Not wanting to lose someone else.” There’s not many he tumbled with still around, and that’s a harrowing thought, in and of itself. “Stopped when it stopped being fun to do.”
“You… you wanted to settle?”
“Eh. Just didn’t want to get hurt any more.” That’s more honest, or closer. Yes, he’d fallen too deep, but it didn’t mean other things couldn’t also have been happening. He just… hadn’t wanted to, enough.
There’s a long, long silence as they let the cool, salty air drift past.
“He isn’t jealous. Or… he wasn’t, until he saw me drawing Ed’s face. And I wasn’t even… it wasn’t even like that. If I’d been drawing his dick, I think he’d’ve been happier with it, which is just weird, right? That he’d rather I wanted to fuck him, than… than… I don’t know.”
“Why were you drawing him?” Izzy asks. “Sure, he pushed you overboard. So the fuck what? Why not any of the fuckers who messed with you before you got back?”
“I didn’t… they… they didn’t matter, first? I mean. I don’t like him that way, no more than I like any random guy with nice arms and a growly voice. But it… it hurt. And… and no one had hurt me like that, not… not in a long time.”
Ah. Izzy gets it, a bit, now. People are complicated, and few are as complicated as Edward Teach. “He does that to you. He’s got that… magic spell. Draws you in. Makes you see things you never did. You end up loving him, no matter what. And then he decides he doesn’t want you to love him, so he makes you stop.”
“...is… is that why…?”
“Why he shot me? Yeah.”
“Why are you even still here?”
“Alive? Or on the ship?” Izzy turns, resting back on his elbows, looking down the length of the Revenge. “Alive because I’m apparently an unlucky piece of shit. Still here because… for all I’ve fucked it up… the crew deserved better. Deserves better.”
“Fang told me… some of it.”
“He’s a good lad, Fang.” Izzy nods. “Not the smartest, but he’s loyal. Too soft. Tried to harden him up. Never really worked.”
“Wasn’t he good enough as he was?” Lucius pushes.
“For other ships: no. They’d flay him alive. Here? Here he fits right the fuck in. But you know that, now, don’t you?” Izzy turns to fix his gaze on the boy. “You know what the rest of the world is like. Why this place is… different.”
Lucius clearly does, from the ghost that inhabits his face, briefly.
“Took me too long to realise. And then… then I didn’t want to lose him.”
“Edward.”
Izzy nods.
“Bonnet’s better for him. So. If Bonnet can get his act together… perfect.”
“And… and you?”
“What about me?”
“Don’t - I mean - where… where do you…?”
“Here.” Izzy slaps the timber supporting him. “I belong here, keeping the ship going forwards. Doing it… doing it like I should.”
Lucius takes a hissed breath. “You… if you’d… if you’d met your Pete…?”
“I didn’t.”
“But if you had---?”
Izzy pats the boy on the arm. “I told you: he’s good for you. He knows who you are. Don’t take him for granted.”
He pushes up and away, because - if nothing else - maybe he should sleep sometime tonight. He’s not on watch, he just… comes here, when he needs to.
Or when someone else needs him to.
***
“You… don’t have to be out there, tonight.”
Izzy pauses, one foot on the step, about to go up on deck. He hadn’t heard Lucius step outside of the small room he and Pete have, and it catches him off-guard.
“I never have to be out there,” Izzy points out. Or: he does. He does, because it’s his choice.
“Why don’t you come get warm?”
The offer is soft, gentle, and calm. It’s not salacious or flirty, like the boy usually is when he’s showing interest. Izzy had never been drawn to that behaviour in him, not at all. Anything that aggressive or flamboyant spoke of too much insecurity, too much drama.
This, though, is different. It’s measured, level, and self-assured. There’s a little self-doubt in there, but he knows if he says no then Lucius won’t be shattered.
“What about your boyfriend?”
“He’s here, too.”
Not that Izzy would suspect Lucius would go behind his back, but he also wants to know what they’re actually inviting him into. He’s never been interested in being a homewrecker anyway, but there’s one thing bedding one of a pair, and another bedding one of a committed pair.
It’s different, with every dynamic.
He considers keeping moving. It’s not simply an invitation into bed, even if it remains as such on the surface. Even if they never do it again. It’s not just a pity-fuck, either, because the boy’s tone indicates an empathy and understanding without… without… it being wholly that.
Izzy was like him, once. Lucius knows. Lucius could still be like him, one day, if he’s not careful, but Izzy will always be Izzy, now. What he is might bend and flex, but he won’t ever fully change.
“He better remember my fucking leg, is all I’m saying.”
Lucius nods, and holds the door open.
***
They like an audience, Izzy remembers. They’d been very clear about that, from the start. He takes the single chair in the room as Lucius goes to the bed where Pete is lying, undressed and under a blanket.
Pete’s eyes flick to him, a slightly-worried lift of his brows, and Izzy nods to reassure him. Pete was always one of the more readily receptive of Bonnet’s crew. A braggart, sure, but nothing Izzy hadn’t heard before. He talked bigger than he was, but he’d follow an order. He’d follow this one, too; you didn’t get that doe-eyed if you weren’t besotted.
Lucius makes a show of kneeling over him, over the blankets, and Izzy has to respect the form: build up slow, and make them want more. Yep. He’s got the knack, so there’s no wonder Pete would follow him to hell and back. Someone so clearly aware of what feels good, and so… sharp, quick-witted, and intelligent? Very much a good catch, and not bad to look at, too.
He wonders if he’d have been able to be satisfied with a Pete, but he suspects not. The man is… sweet. Too sweet. Izzy’s tastes don’t always stay tasting of sugar, even if he’ll indulge in it from time to time.
Lucius’ hands frame Pete’s face, and he kisses him slow and deep. He’s still dressed, and he dances his hips over Pete’s groin, the blanket there between them. He has a nice, tight-looking arse, and Izzy suspects he knows what to do with it, as much as his mouth, and everything else.
Izzy isn’t sure just how much he’s invited in for, so he declines to comment or interfere. To be honest, it’s… nice. Enjoyable. Watching them interact, in a way that’s oh-so-natural for the pair of them. They clearly enjoy others’ eyes on them, and he’s enjoying watching their pleasure and ease with one another. He remembers when he was this young, and this carefree. It feels… it feels like forever ago, and yesterday.
Pete’s hands work over Lucius’ clothing, pulling and pushing and slowly undressing him. The blanket stays between them, even as he sits up. One hand around the back of Lucius’ neck as he shuffles up onto his arse, and then he’s busy stroking his hair and licking into his mouth (by the sounds of it) as the boy divests himself to the waist.
Izzy wonders if the blanket is for Pete’s modesty, or to slow them down. Or both. Pete’s clearly somewhat intimidated by him, which is a credit to his self-preservation instincts.
Still. He’s not here to do anything other than appreciate what’s been offered.
“Take ‘em off, babe. It’s alright.”
That’s when Pete’s eyes move to Izzy again, before moving back to Lucius.
“I can leave,” Izzy offers. “I don’t need to stay.” The poor sod shouldn’t be nervous in his own bed, not if he doesn’t enjoy that.
“It’s--” Pete is the one who speaks, but his tongue falters.
“You don’t need to give me a reason.” Izzy decides discretion is the better part of valour, setting his good leg down and pushing back to stand. He can easily enjoy this snapshot if nothing else.
He doesn’t expect the hand around his wrist, and he doesn’t expect it to be Pete’s, when he feels it.
“He wants you to stay,” Pete insists. “He… he wants you to move on, too.”
Izzy blinks in confusion, then remembers the shark he’d whittled. His eyes snap to where it’s sitting, on the shelf at the end of the room. He’d seen it, but not processed it. It’s there, in pride of place.
Why Pete tells him, and not… oh. Lucius’ cheeks are flushing, and for the first time Izzy sees him actually embarrassed.
Which is interesting. Lucius wants more than just any old company, and this means something… different, doesn’t it?
“What does Pete want?” Izzy asks, not pulling away, but fixing the man with a very cutting stare. He doesn’t want to ruin what these two have in any way, and if he sees anything he isn’t comfortable with, he’ll make it his ‘fault’ that he goes.
“If Lucius wants something, it’s usually worth wanting. Occasional… self-destructive things aside, which you know, babe.”
“Yeah, I do,” the boy confirms.
“I trust him on this.” Pete lets go of his wrist, but turns to offer his hand.
Izzy can sense it’s nervousness, not reticence, and no duplicity in Pete’s gesture. It’s… touching. It is. Both of them want him here in some shape or form, despite the way he’s treated them both in the past. His whittled figure lives out in the open, which means it’s not a secret that he gave it. A small token, a small gesture. A peace-offering, perhaps, or a lesson passed down like lore, like the knowledge of knots and squalls and storms.
Perhaps he doesn’t deserve to stay. Perhaps he should give them a sharp tongue, and dissuade them from trying again. Convince them he’s beyond any salvation or worth their wanting, and set them free of any perceived obligation.
“Don’t make me beg you,” Lucius’ voice comes, a little too-light to really be light. “Just… one night, at least. Don’t you owe yourself that?”
Owe himself?
For himself?
When was the last time he--
Pete doesn’t wait any longer, grabbing his hand and gripping it fiercely. The man keeps hold of him as he grabs the back of Lucius’ neck, demanding more of those hungry, feeling-full kisses.
From this close, Izzy can see the emotion on both of their faces, and it’s painful for him to witness. Painful, because… because he wants it, too. Wants to be wanted, and loved. Wants to love, and feel it accepted. He should drag his hand back - knowing this isn’t him, isn’t his - but the shaking ferocity in Pete’s grip won’t let him be such a damn coward.
This isn’t for him. This isn’t how it happened. His story was not one with a happy ending, and although it’s not over, it sort of is. He made decisions, and so did others. This is not--
Lucius turns from Pete’s mouth, grabbing Izzy by the tie. His fingers knot around the ring, making every bit of Izzy’s automatic defence kick in, and he’s reaching for his sword until there’s lips on his.
Soft, but also chapped. He tastes of those smokes he won’t put down, and his tongue is warm and insistent and it pushes past his defences. Izzy’s in such a vulnerable position, bent over and held down by his throat and his wrist. His leg means he’s not got the same strength and flexibility he once had, and that sends even more alarm bells ringing violently.
Lucius stops kissing him, but drags him like a leashed animal to Pete’s face, next. He doesn’t resist as the other man licks in, and fuck, but he’s hard, now. Before it had been building, enjoyable warmth. Now it’s ‘fucking do something with this before you pass out’, which… damn. He’s not been this aroused in the longest fucking time.
“Do you really want to go?” Pete asks. “Or do you want to remember what you used to feel like?”
Little shit. Of course he’s told Pete.
Izzy might be grateful, but he’s also embarrassed. “You think the two of you can handle me?” he challenges, instead. “I was doing this before either of you were fucking born.”
“Then maybe you’ll still remember how to be good at it,” Lucius throws right back in his face. “C’mon, Izzy. Let yourself have some damn fun for once.”
“I told you to remember my damn leg.”
“And I thought you wanted us to respect your expertise.”
Damn that boy. The cocky tone is there, but it’s… it’s not as threatening or challenging, now. It’s playful instead, and Izzy can respect that. He plants his hoof down firmly, then grabs a handful of Lucius’ hair, twisting his grip and staring at Pete. “Which of you takes it best, or do you flip a coin?”
Judging by the way Pete’s eyes darken and his jaw drops, he’s most assuredly not in charge. Whether he’s the peg or the hole remains to be seen, though.
“Auhhh--”
“I think you’ll find we’re both incredibly accommodating,” Lucius steps in, confirming both positional and interpersonal arrangements nicely.
“If you’re so accommodating…” Izzy flashes his eyes to Lucius, then to his hand holding him in place, and then to Pete’s.
They both get the hint, and immediately let go. Izzy grunts, and rights himself. Good. That was fucking murder on his back, but he wasn’t about to let them see through to his weakness.
“I can’t be fucking doing with bullshit about who does what, or how. You don’t like something, be a big boy and say. But none of that shit about what other people do. Got it?”
“Says the man who literally tried to embarrass us when he caught us?” Lucius asks, though his eyes are amused.
“So? Worth checking who you’re sailing with. What makes ‘em tick.”
“Lucius makes me tick,” Pete purrs, his voice a little bit more certain now. “Makes me tick so damn hard, babe.”
“Show me,” Izzy insists, and takes a step back to lean against the closed door. “Want to watch what really works for you both.”
Apparently appeased he’s staying, they turn their focus back on one another. Pete’s hands trail over Lucius’ bared chest, tweaking a nipple erect before he’s up and sucking hard, his palms sliding under the boy’s jeans waistband, gripping that delicious arse and making a show of it.
There. That’s what was missing before. There’s the fire and confidence in Pete, and the exhibitionism they’d been not-quite-showing.
Lucius shimmies his pants down, the pair of them moving and working together to get them free. He really does blossom under the attention, settling into his body and displaying. The boy’s clearly an eager bottom, but if Pete is as well, then they clearly share the fun.
Izzy can help with that. He’s not averse to anything, but he’s more than ready to step up where there’s a lack. It is, after all, the First Mate’s job.
When Lucius’ arse is out for the world to see, Izzy draws his sword. He gets looks from both; confused, intrigued, but not afraid. He spears the blanket still over Pete’s legs, tugs, and makes it clear it needs to move.
“Something you’re wanting to see?” Lucius asks him, fluttering his lashes.
“Prudishness is not a turn on. Not for me.”
Pete throws his hands above his head, the gesture joyful and open. “I’m ready, baby!”
Lucius only just manages to lift one knee, then the other, before Izzy sends the blanket flying to thud against the wall. He topples onto his hands, straddling Pete, and then they’re giggling together and bumping noses and fuck, why does that hurt in all new ways?
That… ease. That affection. That… fun.
Izzy has not been at ease, or had fun, in… in… forever. Maybe never to the extent these two can, and do.
The urge to flee rises again, and he sheathes his sword. It’s torture, pure and simple. To be so close, and yet… not.
“You can touch him,” Pete murmurs, without looking up from Lucius’ face. Their foreheads are pressed together again, and Lucius is frotting against Pete’s lap, on all fours astride him. “I’d like it if you touched him.”
“Would you?”
“Why do you need it to hurt?”
Pete, of all the people in the world. Pete asking him, Izzy Hands, that. It’s almost as bad as Ed dreaming of Izzy shooting him. Almost as bad as being shot.
Fuck, but this is dangerous. So, so dangerous. They can’t invite him in for fun and then rip him open in two. What kind of perverse sadism is this?
“He’s forgotten any other way,” Lucius insists, and gazes up at him with such compassion and empathy that the urge to smash his fucking face in--
Izzy closes his eyes. Breathes.
He remembers the pain in Ed’s voice, in his eyes. The stench of fear all around the ship. Poison. Rot. Decay.
It can’t just be that. It can’t.
The smell of the paints in Wee John’s tins. The memory of his crew, risking everything to keep him alive. The… the note… the…
“That’s what we need to show him. It’s not all sharks. Sometimes it’s dolphins, and beautiful fish.”
Fucking Lucius. Fucking poets and artists, with their pretty thoughts that pull minds astray. Izzy thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe, and then finds Lucius somehow behind him, pressed up against his back. He’s holding Izzy’s arms down to his sides, nuzzling at his neck. The scratch of his scruff is a soft blur, the kisses are wicked, and Izzy wants it all to just--
Pete sits on the end of the bed, running hands over his thighs, over his belly. It’s terrifyingly intimate, and worryingly… vulnerable. He can’t easily overpower both of them, not when he’s held like this and his gun and sword are impossible to draw. Not when he’s got one good (enough) leg, and a dick that’s so hard he feels like falling over.
“We won’t hurt you, unless you want us to,” Lucius whispers, between kisses at his jaw. “We won’t mention this again, unless you want us to. Unless you come back, and we know you want more.”
Pete’s hands unfasten his pants, and tease his cock out into the open. He knows it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but it’s also… normally he’s the one pulling it out. He’s not being touched sweetly, softly. Fingers that dance invitingly over his skin, treating him like he’s precious, like he’s worthy.
“This - this isn’t--”
“Let us show you one night, at least. You can go back to calling me Twatty in the morning. You can pretend you didn’t need this. But if you do… if you do, there’s no reason you can’t come back for more.”
Fuck, that - that tone - that…
God, he really is an echo, isn’t he? A better one, and one who got what he wanted. Izzy fights the whimper as Pete’s lips lower, kissing, licking, caressing. His fingers tugging the foreskin back, his tongue dipping out to taste.
Lucius’ dick is hard against his ass, but the boy has enough restraint not to do any more than hold him. It’s terrifying to go from watching to being the only one touched, but god… god does he want it. Need it.
He squirms one hand free, but clasps it over the one resting near his heart. Nods, and manages a grunt of agreement, just in time for Pete’s mouth to take him in whole.
Oh. Fucking. Hell.
Pete works him with care and dedication, chasing each twitch and little grunt of pleasure. His hands over Izzy’s balls, his thighs, his belly. He’s so fucking good at that. No wonder Lucius loves him so much: a good heart, and a good, cock-sucking mouth? Jesus.
For his sins, Lucius won’t stop kissing at his throat. He’s pulled clothing away to give him more access, and Izzy melts as the boy scratches then kisses his neck better. He’s pinching a nipple through his clothing, then sliding under the layers to find warm skin below. Izzy’s fully dressed, just a little compromised, and held between two naked lovers who are systematically rendering him a quivering wreck.
It used to be like this. More like this. More like…
Embarrassingly, he spills down Pete’s throat as the man uses his knuckles behind his balls. It’s been a long while, and Izzy can normally set the pace himself. He’s rendered a babbling mess as his knee buckles, and Lucius is the only reason he doesn’t fall.
It’s… oh god. It’s so, so fucking dangerous. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t have let them. He--
“Do you want to stay for more?” Lucius hasn’t stopped nuzzling him, all the way through his climax. “Might take you a while, but it’s still nice to get fucked after you’ve had yours. Or you could watch, or hold one of us down…”
More?
Oh, fuck, right. Neither of them have climaxed, yet. Izzy isn’t used to being first, or the only one, and his head is sort of swimming through all of this.
“You - you don’t really want a toxic old sod like me,” he insists, but weakly.
“Toxic: no. You? I think we do.”
Pete kisses his softening dick, and then there’s a bald head pushing against his thigh. “I know you’ve got a trick or two to teach us. And you’re not as scary as you think you are, you know.”
“Well, fuck. Guess I need to work on that, again,” Izzy jokes, as levelly as his voice will allow.
“We won’t tell the others if you don’t.” Lucius kisses the very back of his neck. “Just one night? To start with?”
Considering the very, very nice climax they just gave him, and the even warmer, kinder welcome… he’d be rude to not stay a little while longer.
“Yeah. Yeah. Just… just one night.”
As their hands undress him, and Lucius kisses him deeply, Izzy knows he’s lying. He doesn’t want just one night. If they’ll have him… he’ll stay.