Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izzy was getting restless, quite despite himself. He knew there was no point in getting himself worked up and that the anxiety he could feel rising in his gut was unwarranted. Nothing bad was happening, nor was it going to happen. There was no need to worry.

But his Master has been away for almost a week now and Izzy hated that with all his heart. Sure, he knew being too clingy wasn’t a good thing - Jack saw to that. He had talked about this with his therapist on many occasions and the reasonable part of his mind kept telling him he was alright.

But still, being left on his own like this always woke up the worm of anxiety which burrowed in his heart whenever it was given a chance. So he tried to keep himself occupied best he could. He cleaned the apartment he shared with his Master, taking his time to make it last longer. It wasn’t like there was much to clean anyway, because he did that every other day, but today he paid extra attention to it. He double-checked the books and the events schedule. He walked around the whole building twice, searching for anything that would require his attention. And now he was sitting in his downstairs office, sipping on the Master’s whisky in an attempt to drown the unpleasant feeling.

It wasn’t just that Master Blackbeard was away visiting his mother’s family. Izzy had learned to deal with the Master not being right by his side at all times. They were both adults and each of them had his own things to deal with from time to time. For as much as Izzy loved his life as a slave, he understood the club was a bubble governed by very different rules than the outside world - and sometimes one of them had to visit that world.

And it wasn’t like the Master was right beside him the whole time even when he was here either. He would go out and meet with people, keeping up with the local kink community, looking for new business opportunities and networking with friendly enterprises from other industries - and Izzy was eternally grateful that he didn’t have to do it. Meanwhile Izzy’s responsibilities as the business’ manager demanded he stayed at the club most of the time, which suited him perfectly. There were days when he and the Master would only meet in the evening, right before going to bed, and he was used to that by now.

So it wasn’t just that Blackbeard was away that caused Izzy’s anxiety. It was in a huge part due to business being annoyingly slow . That was to be expected, of course, with most people enjoying a long weekend and the weather being so damn awful. Having run the dungeon for a few years, he knew no one was going to come in except the patrons who had their sessions booked, and with most of the staff away as well there weren’t many of those either.

Sighing quietly, he ran his fingers over the collar around his neck - a small ritual that alway helped to keep him grounded. He touched the small padlock that ensured he wouldn’t take the collar off without his Master’s consent. Right away he felt better, secure in the knowledge that there was someone who cared about him deeply.

All of this anxiety was just a minor inconvenience. He’d just have to weather it until the Master came back and the business picked up pace again. 

If only there was anything useful for him to do in the meantime…

*****

It was going to feel awkward, Fang knew that even before he stood up from his armchair. Sure, he played with Izzy before, way back when. It was a lot of fun and they both learned some valuable things. Even when they decided Izzy needed things Fang wasn’t comfortable giving, they stayed in touch and eventually Izzy recommended Fang for a job at Master Blackbeard’s dungeon. The respect and trust they shared never went away. 

But after the whole Jack situation they just drifted apart, the sore subject driving a wedge between them. Fang even considered quitting the job for a moment, before Izzy reassured him it was alright. They remained on good terms, but never fully recovered from what happened.

And now this. Standing at the door to the manager’s office, Fang wondered whether it was a good idea to even approach Izzy. But then he could imagine how furious Izzy would be if he learned they had to cancel a workshop before exploring all the options. And the very last option that came to mind was this.

So he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Surprise was clear in Izzy’s voice as he shouted for Fang to come in, and Fang had no idea whether it was a good or a bad sign. 

“What happened?” the manager asked the second Fang entered the room, as if his sudden appearance could only mean trouble. To be fair, he was sort of right.

“Are you busy, boss?” Fang asked in a terrible attempt to make a small talk, its only result being the immediate awkwardness filling the office.

“...No,” Izzy grumbled from behind a laptop. “So. What happened?”

A thought flashed through Fang’s mind that it was sad Izzy couldn’t imagine it being a social call, even with the club almost empty and there being not much to do for either of them.

“I have trouble with my workshop tomorrow. My Puppy won’t be able to make it. I tried to find someone to fill in, but it seems everyone is out of town for the long weekend. And I really would hate to cancel it and disappoint the clients.”

All of this came out in a rapid succession, as Fang was eager to get to the real point of his visit. But then he froze, the question he wanted to ask refusing to leave his lips. Did he even have the right to ask? Sure, Izzy and Blackbeard had an open relationship and the Master agreed to Izzy playing with other Doms from time to time. But none of those Doms had the history with Izzy like the one Fang had, and even if he knew the Jack thing wasn’t his fault, he still felt guilty over what happened.

“Come on, Fang,” Izzy’s irritated voice pulled him out of his thoughts and back into the reality of the manager looking at him unconvinced, his brow raised in an unasked question. “There has to be someone available!”

“It’s super short notice, boss, and during the long weekend. No one will be interested with the weather being so awful.”

Izzy sighed, clearly displeased at the news. He hated disappointing the clients, always taking the business very personally and treating the club almost like his child. Just ask, Fang told himself in his thoughts. The worst he can do is say no.

“Unless…  you would like to fill in? I know we haven’t played in a long time and it’s not really your thing, but it would save us from having to cancel.”

To his complete embarrassment, Fang could feel himself blushing. It was very unprofessional of him and for a moment he was afraid to look the manager in the face, for the fear of seeing disappointment. But when Izzy kept silent, he eventually took a peek - and saw nothing but pure shock.

Did he overstep? If he did, he hoped they would be able to clarify and fix it quickly. He would hate to have to quit the job he loved over a misunderstanding.

“I don’t make these decisions, you know that,” Izzy said slowly. He closed his laptop and was looking at Fang with new intensity. “I would have to call Master Blackbeard and ask him. But as far as I’m concerned, we can try if you don’t manage to find anyone else.”

A wonderful warmth blossomed in Fang’s stomach at these words. He remembered his sessions with Izzy very fondly, the man always giving it his all. There was something quite unique about the way he submitted, even if pet play wasn’t his main kink.

Izzy stood up and crossed the office to where a bottle of whisky and a set of glasses stood on a small table. He gestured for Fang to sit down in one of the leather chairs.

“Fancy a drink?” he asked, to which Fang eagerly agreed with a nod. “Guess we should call the Master right away.”

 *****

It was… surprising.

Fang surprised Izzy by asking him to play. Even if it was just an emergency aimed at keeping the clients happy, being asked after all this time wasn’t something Izzy would have expected in a thousand years.

And then Izzy surprised himself by agreeing, provided that his Master was on board, of course. Which he seemed to be. The thunderstorms meant that the reception was spotty at best, so they weren’t able to discuss the details, agreeing to try to talk again in the morning.

Izzy didn’t really know how he felt about all of this, as he laid in his bed. But he discovered with curiosity that he wasn’t anxious any longer. There was something for him to do. A way to be useful. And with a man he respected and trusted deeply. For some reason he felt that whatever was about to happen, it would certainly be good.

Chapter Text

Izzy had never been the type of man to talk about feelings, Fang knew that well by now. It wasn’t ideal for what they were about to do, but Blackbeard’s resident Puppy Handler wasn’t offered his current position without proving he could deal properly with any and all aspects of the job. Clients being shy or straight up ashamed wasn't all that strange in their line of work, and even if he always encouraged open communication, he had also learned it was sometimes better not to push, especially if someone wasn’t ready to talk.

Or if they just weren’t the type to do so, Fang mused, watching Izzy trying to connect with his Master over Skype. The manager had worked through a lot of his issues and the fact that he'd been in therapy wasn’t a secret to anyone involved with the life of the club. He was just a fiercely private person, and that was also alright, regardless of the fact that Fang would love to talk about their feelings concerning the upcoming session.

"Piece of shit!" Izzy huffed with anger, telling Fang he meant his laptop. He’d never use that sort of language to talk about his Master. 

This was promptly followed by the laptop being closed with considerably more force than was necessary. Izzy had been trying to connect with Blackbeard all morning, only to get disconnected again and again. It clearly annoyed him as hell, which was expected - the man had a very short temper after all, as Fang knew well having worked for him for nine years now. But he also seemed bothered on some deeper level, as if the possibility of playing with Fang suddenly became crucial to him. It was surprising and very pleasing, so Fang found himself smiling.

Thinking fondly about how Master Blackbeard taught him to observe people in order to gauge their emotions when they weren’t willing to discuss them, he watched the manager take out his mobile and type furiously. There was impatience in his movements and he was muttering something which certainly involved a lot of profanities.

Izzy was such a wonderful paradox, Fang thought. So easy to anger and shout, and swear, and yet so wonderfully patient and focused while playing. Even back when they first started, when Izzy was a complete newbie and Fang was only doing puppy play as a hobby rather than a career, the manager was always willing to take anything that was doled out to him. In fact, in time they learned he needed more than Fang was comfortable giving, craving real pain, which wasn’t the Puppy Handler’s thing at all. And yet when it came to anything outside of play, he would get furious at any minor displeasure. It was fascinating - but then perhaps every person was as complex, the only difference being that Izzy’s way of living made him easier for Fang to observe.

“Okay, the text went through,” Izzy growled. “Let’s see what the Master thinks. If he’s able to text back in this fuckin’ weather.”

“Let’s hope he is. The clients would be disappointed if we had to cancel.”

What Fang said was true, but it wasn’t the entire truth. He would also be disappointed to cancel the workshop, but it wasn’t just because of the clients. The extent to which he was excited to play with Izzy after all these years was a surprise to himself. But he wasn’t sure whether it would be a good idea to mention this out loud, as even Blackbeard’s lessons in reading people couldn’t help him to gauge if the manager would prefer to keep this professional or to receive a more personal touch.

“I still can’t fuckin’ believe we couldn’t find anyone else. Bloody ridiculous,” Izzy kept raving, Fang’s only reaction being a patient smile. “Not that I don’t want to do it,” he added in a gentler voice when it became obvious he wasn’t going to get any reply.

Before the Handler could answer, Izzy’s phone buzzed. The manager read the text, smiled approvingly, and then passed the device to Fang.

“As long as iz stays caged im fine with it have fun boys” the message read.

The two men looked at each other and Fang could have sworn there was something new in the air. 

*****

There was a sort of delicious simplicity in the puppy play that Izzy almost completely forgot about over the years. Sure, it wasn’t nearly as demanding - nor as satisfying to him - as a 24/7 relationship which involved service submission, regular pain play, ritualistic humiliations and permanent chastity. He wouldn’t be able to function properly doing just puppy play, the way he tried to back when he was first getting into kink.

But it was fun . Wonderfully uncomplicated fun - something he had forgotten how to have, he suddenly realized. Now it was all coming back to him, the memories of all the great times he used to have with Fang. Even if the Puppy Handler’s style of soft domming wasn’t Izzy’s idea of what his perfect Dom should be, he was still certainly going to have a great time tonight.

After all, he already had the perfect Dom who chose to collar him and always sought to make life beautifully demanding. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy other things as well. As he put on a puppy mask, he thought about how nice it was of his Master to let him do this.

The guests were now coming in - all drenched, but also visibly excited about the workshop. Izzy was kneeling down on the stage, Handler Fang sitting in a chair next to him. The idea of being used as a model for demonstrating safe kink made him warm inside. It always felt good to give back to the community he considered home. And the humiliation of being publicly displayed like this was already making his dick swell in its cage.

As the last client took their place, Fang stood up and welcomed them, introducing himself and then Izzy. Watching from behind the mask, Izzy could see the people in the audience - all seven of them thanks to the damn storms - looked at him with interest. They were probably newbies, seeing as it was only a second lesson in Fang’s course, and it made him think back to when he was starting. And to how much Fang helped him then, even if in the long run they weren’t compatible enough to keep playing.

“Since we’ve covered the basic psychology of kink during our last lesson, we should now move on to the actual pet play. One of the most basic things about puppy play is a collar,” the Handler said once the intro was done. “Any good dog wears one,” he chuckled softly in a way that Izzy found strangely charming. “There are many different types of collars, which I will discuss in a moment. But first, the most important thing is putting it on a puppy in a safe way. By this I mean it should never be too tight, or you risk choking your pet in a way that may harm them. Here we can see I can slide two fingers under the doggie’s collar.”

To demonstrate this, Fang did just as he said, his fingers pressing against Izzy’s neck under the collar. It felt… strange. Both intimate and entirely professional at the same time. A thought flashed through Izzy’s mind that it was such an unusual way to be touched that even his Master hasn’t done it in years. It brought on a peculiar feeling he couldn’t be able to name, but took a mental note of in case the Master asked him about the workshop - which he was almost certain to do.

As the lesson went on, that unnamable feeling only intensified. The Puppy Handler was charmingly delicate every time he touched Izzy, whether he was discussing tail plugs or making the doggie present basic poses used in scenes. 

Izzy’s dick would prefer to be roughly manhandled, but the manager had been through enough therapy to unlearn following his lust every waking second. He didn’t appreciate Fang’s tenderness at all when they played all those years ago, but he’d like to think he was a bit wiser now. So even though he wasn’t as hard as he could be, he focused on appreciating the soft touches and the gentle ruffling of his hair. 

“The most basic games you can play with your puppy are pretty much the same ones you would play with a regular dog,” Fang said, picking up a ball from the table where he kept his tools and supplies. “We all know dogs love to play fetch. Right, boy?” he turned towards Izzy, who confirmed it by woofing softly.

Fang tossed the ball towards the audience, and it rolled down the three stairs leading up to the stage and rolled between the chairs. Unsure whether he should go retrieve it from where the clients were sitting, Izzy threw the Handler an inquisitive glance. It was met with a smile of encouragement, which sent a wave of warmth through the pet’s body, as he took this uncomplicated opportunity to make his Dom proud.

“Go on,” Fang nodded at him before turning his attention back to the audience. “If you want to make it more challenging for the dog, you can make them walk on their knees and elbows rather than their hands and knees. It is also good for those pets who have pain in their wrists and it can be  - “

The Handler never got to finish this thought, as a sickening snapping sound interrupted him, followed by Izzy’s scream. Going down the stairs on all fours, he balanced his weight in the wrong way, and fell to the floor as his hand gave up beneath him.

The scream was a short one, brought on by shock rather than pain, Izzy being quite good at taking the latter. But it was enough to cause a stir among the guests, two of whom stood up as if trying to flee. Lying on his side, Izzy cradled the hurt hand. It had been broken before, and he tried to push away the memories of the day that happened and focus on what was going on around him.

The sharp pain was already pushing him towards that fuzzy place his mind went whenever he got hurt enough. He would happily float away if it wasn’t for the clients’ worried whispers. And for Fang’s concerned face that suddenly filled his vision.

*****

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Fang said, his fingers moving across Izzy’s forearm. “But we should go to the hospital anyway, just to be sure.”

Izzy huffed. The Handler knew he hated being fussed over - and having it done in front of strangers surely made it even worse. But Fang was going to push on this if it became necessary. He would even call Blackbeard to tell on Izzy if the man tried to argue.

“I am truly sorry about this unfortunate end to our lesson,” he addressed the audience, who eventually calmed down after seeing that Izzy was going to be fine. “But it may be the most important lesson of all - any play session is unpredictable and accidents may happen. I highly recommend getting first aid training and I will reiterate that having a first-aid kit on hand is a must.”

Having said his piece, he looked Izzy in the face, trying to check whether he was alright. They were sitting on the edge of the stage, while the guests were gathered a few feet away in order not to crowd them. As Fang moved in to have a better look at him, Izzy suddenly leaned against him, his face telling the Handler that he was miles away. Fang had never seen him like this, but he knew what it meant - the pain was bad enough to push Izzy into his headspace. 

Guided by instinct that told him to protect those who were suffering, he put his arm around the manager. Izzy smiled a half-smile and leaned harder against him. Fang cleared his throat.

“I hope you will excuse us, but we need to go to the hospital.”

The crowd murmured in agreement as Fang helped Izzy up. The man walked down the stairs and across the room with an absent expression. 

It filled Fang with a mixture of emotions he wouldn’t be able to untangle right now.

Chapter Text

It was well after midnight by the time Fang and Izzy finally got into the ER. There were almost no cars on the road, but the rain was still pouring, forcing Fang to drive painfully slow.

The whole time they were driving, the Handler kept throwing sideways glances at Izzy, worry making it difficult for him to focus properly. The manager was silent, as expected. He seemed focused solely on his injured hand, which was now swollen.

The soft Dom that he was, Fang never understood the appeal of pain. He couldn’t imagine willingly hurting anyone , let alone a play partner, who trusted him with their wellbeing. Nor could he comprehend that some people wanted to be in pain, which nature told all living beings to avoid. But then, he made a career out of treating people like dogs, so it wasn’t like he had any right to judge Izzy. He had long ago learned that people enjoy different things and he didn’t have to understand it as long as he accepted it.

Still, watching Izzy hurting caused him sadness that nested in his stomach. He would never say anything about this to Izzy, as he well knew the man wouldn’t want to be fussed over any more than was absolutely necessary. Right now Izzy was miles away, drinking in the pain, but as soon as they reached the hospital he was certain to become his rude and sweary self.

The weather demanded Fang to watch the road carefully, so he couldn’t really turn towards Izzy. The man kept silent and remained perfectly still, yet it felt as though his presence filled the car. Or was it Fang’s own feelings that made the air in the vehicle feel thick? He couldn’t help being fiercely protective of his pups even if he wanted to. Even if they didn’t want him to be. Even if they didn’t need it, like Izzy didn’t need it.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that the ride was taking so long? Perhaps he could come up with some sort of plan on how to proceed before he had to make any real decisions? 

Peeking at the manager again, he thought of how deep in his own world of pain the man seemed to be. For all the unease it caused Fang, it was way better than the last time Izzy was taken to the hospital. This was an accident during a fun time. That was a result of the worst possible breach of trust the Handler could imagine.

He hoped against all hope that Izzy won’t be reminded of that terrible day and all the sorrow that came after. They were just starting to reconnect and he would really hate for it to fall apart over something that happened years ago.

No matter how much his rational mind told him he wasn’t to blame, he still felt guilty. After all it was him who introduced Izzy to Jack bloody Rackham.

*****

There was one of the effects of therapy he’d been through, Izzy mused as he looked at the painkillers in his palm. A few years ago he would have refused to take them, claiming he could deal with the pain without their help and lashing against anyone trying to make him see how unwise that was. Hell, he wouldn’t have come to the hospital at all, most likely. Asking for anyone’s help - including a physician - would have made him feel pathetic and unworthy of walking this earth.

It wasn’t that he liked being here now, of course. He fucking hated it with every fibre of his being. All he wanted to do was to tell the doctor to fuck off so that he could get back to the dungeon and find something to occupy himself with. But he was better at controlling his temper now, and realized he had to be rational. So he nodded, and murmured in agreement when a brace was put on his hand, and swallowed the pills. The situation sucked, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Besides, for some reason he couldn’t put into words, having Fang with him made the whole thing a little better. The man seemed distressed that Izzy got hurt, but he didn’t make it any bigger of an issue than it needed to be. Now, as Izzy walked out of the doctor’s office, he could see nothing but kind concern in Fang’s face. Somehow it didn’t make him feel weak, as it would if it was anyone else - except his Master, perhaps - sitting there. Instead, it just made him feel safe, like he was going to be taken care of without being pitied.

“How bad is it?” the Handler immediately asked, eying the brace.

“I’ll live,” Izzy huffed. Even if he was surprisingly fine with Fang being here with him, he was still pissed at himself for allowing this to happen at all - and that anger made it into his voice without any conscious decision on his part. “Gonna have to wear this fuckin’ thing for a while, though. And I got some painkillers.”

They caught each other’s gaze for a moment. There was a silent question in Fang’s eyes, one that Izzy wasn’t going to acknowledge. Sure, they were both thinking about Jack right now. How could they not in these circumstances? But Izzy had promised himself not to let that fucker into his life ever again and he sure as hell wasn’t going to think about him now.

After a few seconds, it became really awkward. And if anything pissed Izzy off even more than being fussed over, it was awkward situations. So he shook his head and turned towards the exit. Fang followed him without a word, thankfully.

*****

That terrible awkwardness didn’t go away, unfortunately. And it wasn’t about Jack now that Izzy made it clear there was going to be no discussion of that shit. Or at least, it wasn’t just about him.

Sitting in the car next to Fang, the manager felt like he was slowly going mad. He didn’t want for it to seem like he was complaining - he really could take the pain, after all. He’d been through worse.

But this time, he also caused trouble for Fang. A couple of guests seemed really disturbed, as far as he could remember. It wouldn’t be all that surprising if they decided not to come back. Or if they shared what happened on Fetlife. The idea of the Handler losing clients over this made his blood boil with rage.

Breathing slowly, he tried to calm himself down. The words kept fighting to get out of his mouth as he kept praying that the fucking carride would finally end so that he could just get into bed and leave Fang alone. They were moving at a snail pace, however, the damn rain still pouring as the dawn was slowly breaking.

And then he suddenly couldn’t stop himself.

“I’m sorry I ruined your workshop!” he blurted, feeling his face burn with embarrassment.

“No,” Fang said, his voice so calm that Izzy immediately felt reassured. “It’s not your fault, and you know that. I meant what I said, accidents happen.”

Right.

Izzy considered a few different things he could say to that, but all of them felt embarrassingly stupid. So he just nodded, pretty certain that Fang would understand what he meant either way.

They continued the ride in silence - which all of a sudden didn’t feel awkward at all.

*****

The Handler’s way of living meant that the vast majority of his work happened in the evenings, allowing him to stay in bed until quite late every day. So he wasn’t used to getting up so damn early - especially not after going to sleep after sunrise. But today he felt like sacrificing a few hours of sleep to take care of Izzy was a good trade off.

It actually made him feel good to be standing at the door to the penthouse apartment with a bag full of food he’d just cooked for Izzy. Yes, he was more sleepy than he’d been in years and it wasn’t very pleasant, but the caregiver in him was pleased that he was doing exactly what needed to be done.

Smiling to himself, he knocked on the door, fully expecting to be made to wait for a while before the manager got out of bed and then to be greeted by the sight of Izzy in whatever clothing he slept in. To his complete shock, the door opened after a few seconds - and Izzy was fully dressed. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt rather than his usual leathers, but he’s obviously been on his feet for a while now.

It took about three seconds for the shock to be replaced with concern. And the type of anger a parent may feel for a misbehaving child. If Fang had anything to say, this wasn’t going to stand. So he looked Izzy up and down in a gesture of gentle reproach.

“No,” he said simply. “Whatever it is that you’re doing, you’re going to stop. You’ve just been to the hospital. You know you have to rest.”

Izzy scoffed with derision, as could be expected of him. But there was also something in his whole posture that told Fang he should try pushing on it.

“Look. I know you can deal with this on your own until Blackbeard gets back and I don’t want to overstep here. But you don’t have to do it alone if you don’t want to. I brought you food,” Fang shook the bag slightly. “And I would like you to tell me what else you need. I’m sure your Master would back me up on this and tell you to take it slow.”

For a few seconds, Izzy kept silent, furrowing his brows. Then he sighed deeply and gestured for Fang to come in.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “He said the same thing. Want some coffee? You look like you need it.”

Finding the manager’s grumpiness strangely charming, Fang chuckled.

“Sure. But I’m going to make it myself. You’re going to rest and try not to injure your hand any worse by doing unnecessary work.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Fine. ”

Chapter Text

It's only been a day since Izzy got hurt. A single day since Master Blackbeard made it very clear he wasn’t to exert himself which was promptly followed by Fang insisting he didn’t do anything. He knew that taking it slow was the reasonable thing to do and that both men only had his wellbeing in mind.

But anxiety was already worming its way through his heart and soul. Forced idleness had always been the worst punishment he could imagine. Sure, he needed his alone time, away from everyone including his Master. He had never been a sociable type and periods of solitude were crucial for his mental health. 

But even during these times, he always kept himself occupied, cleaning the apartment or balancing the books, or working out. Even on his morning runs he preferred to listen to mindfulness podcasts than be left with his thoughts. Whatever it was that his brain needed to process emotions, happened in the background while he remained busy, which made him feel useful.

Right now, he was forbidden from doing anything and it was already gnawing at him. He promised Master Blackbeard he would take it easy, and as much as he hated sitting around doing nothing, he wasn’t about to disobey his Master. Then there was Fang, who took it upon himself to be Izzy’s caretaker, almost forcing him to take it easy and rest.

It felt strange. Izzy was aware of how grumpy the situation was making him, but decided there was no point in trying to hide it from the Handler, who knew him well enough to realize the huffing and swearing were just a part of the package deal. At the same time, being taken care of like this made him feel a strange warmth inside that he hadn't really experienced since childhood.

Sure, his Master alway tended to his needs, as any good Dom should, but Fang’s efforts were something different. For once, the Master couldn’t be bothered with cooking, preferring to have Izzy do it or just order in. In their relationship, sharing meals was about spending time together rather than the food itself, and the only thing Izzy really paid attention to while cooking was the nutritional value of what they consumed.

Fang, on the other hand, seemed to take pleasure in preparing tasty meals, putting a lot of time and effort into them. It wasn’t at all surprising considering how much of a caregiver he was. Izzy found that he was actually enjoying the broth Fang brought him. Not only was it sure to do good to his organism after the recent injury, but it was also damn tasty.

Looking at the Handler across the table, Izzy thought how the soup was a perfect example of everything about him. Fang was all about the simple pleasures. About good food, and protective hugs, and quality time spent chilling . About making people feel nice without any big dramatic gestures.

Izzy had never met anyone like that before. Or after. The thought of how they drifted apart made him strangely melancholic, so he was glad to slowly reconnect, even if it meant being forced to take it easy.

If he absolutely had to waste his time resting, Fang was a great person to do it with.

*****

Leaving Izzy on his own was always difficult for Edward. It wasn’t that the man couldn’t take care of himself. On the contrary, he was responsible and dedicated, running the club like clockwork. But he could also get overwhelmed when having too much free time, they figured that years ago. Usually, the Master would just leave his slave a list of additional tasks to make up for his absence and check-in regularly to make sure all was well.

Right now that wasn’t possible. The injury meant Izzy was forbidden from carrying out any of his usual duties for at least a couple of days. Hell, he shouldn’t even be using a laptop or a mobile. It was sure to be torture for him, and not the kind he enjoyed. And because of the storms Edward couldn’t even talk to him, communicating via text messages only.

So when he suddenly got a notification informing him about a Skype call, he was overjoyed to answer it and alleviate at least some of his worries. The connection wasn’t the most stable one, but at least they could talk for a moment. Smiling to himself, he clicked the button and after a few seconds Izzy was there on his screen, accompanied by Fang.

“Iz!” he exclaimed, his joy clear in his voice. “It’s so fuckin’ good to see you! How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, Master,” Izzy bowed his head to greet his owner. “I’m taking my meds and resting. Just a bit frustrated at having nothing to do.”

“I’m sorry, boss,” Fang said before Blackbeard could reply. “Should I leave for this? I don’t want to intrude on your private things.”

“Stay, please. I’m actually glad you’re here. I thought maybe you could keep an eye on Izzy? Make sure he doesn't get too frustrated with the situation?”

“Oh. Of course, boss. I only have one session scheduled today. Business is always slow during the week and it still rains, so…” Fang made a you-know-how-it-is gesture. “Just… Perhaps we should discuss some rules? As I said, I don’t want to overstep.”

This was lovely. Fang was just lovely and Blackbeard was reassured everything was going to be alright. He smiled again, this time at the Handler.

“I’m fine with most things, really,” he said, a tiny bit surprised he really was fine with leaving Izzy with Fang without the many rules and conditions he usually insisted on when letting his boy play with other people. “You can play as long as you don’t do anything that could hurt Izzy’s hand. And It stays caged, of course, but if you want to grant him a caged orgasm, it’s fine. But if you want to just chill then it’s splendid as well. Just take it slow and let Izzy rest a lot. Force him to rest a lot if you have to,” he smiled at both men, sure that whatever they chose to do, they would have a great time.

Izzy’s face came alive at these words. It wasn’t his hard-at-the-thought-of-being-degraded-and-hurt face, but rather a thank-god-somoene-will-keep-me-busy face. Or even thank-god-Fang-will-keep-me-busy. They all stared at each other for a few seconds before saying anything. And then, just as Izzy opened his mouth to say something, the call got disconnected.

Edward considered trying to connect again, but decided he already knew everything he needed to know. Izzy was going to be just fine. Fang was going to be great at taking care of him. He could go back to his family issues without feeling guilty or worrying any longer.

He took out his phone and texted “have fun” at the boys.

*****

Fang really wanted to help Izzy. He was determined to help him. He just didn’t really know where to start.

Cooking for the manager and making sure he didn’t overexert himself was one thing and it came naturally for the Handler. But for as much as he felt for Izzy, he didn’t really know what more he could do. Sure, he often worked with clients with anxiety, but play scenes were something completely different than this. And his relationship with Ivan was free of any such issues, the man being the most chill person Fang had ever met. 

They were sitting on a couch at the Handler’s flat. It was located above the club, Blackbeard owning the whole building - which was a blessing right now, making inviting the manager over a lot easier. They considered going to the penthouse instead, but Fang decided it would be too awkward and disrespectful to hang around there while Blackbeard was away.

So now they were here, TV playing only to be ignored. Izzy was frowning, with a look of a petulant child on his face. Fang knew it didn’t come out of anger, but frustration at being bored. Yet the manager was keeping silent, apparently also unsure what to do. They trusted and respected each other, but they never spent time together like this.

Not to mention that Jack seemed to be with them in spirit every time they were alone, haunting them like a vengeful spirit and threatening to tear them apart for good.

Fang furrowed his brow, trying to formulate some kind of plan. There had to be some neutral topic that could occupy Izzy’s mind, even for a moment. As the Handler tried to think of one, his head suddenly felt frustratingly empty. Damn .

Izzy shifted his position slightly, making the sleeve of his t-shirt roll up, a tattoo of an octopus suddenly visible on his bicep. Maybe that would be a good subject to talk about? It seemed innocent enough, so Fang decided to try.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen all of your tattoos,” he said in his best conversational tone, meant to let the manager know it was alright if he didn’t want to discuss this.

To his relief, Izzy’s face lit up. It was something for him to do at last, so he nodded eagerly. And then he smiled . It wasn’t a huge smile, but it was a smile nonetheless, reassuring the Handler that he was right to start this conversation.

“You know the two visible ones,” Izzy began, pointing to the tattoos on his neck and face. “The swallow is something sailors used to get once. For having sailed enough miles. Got it when I got out of the navy. And the X is… a gift from the Master.”

There wasn’t much information here, but Fang was still fascinated, right from the first word said by Izzy. He wasn’t going to comment on any of it, as the man has always made it abundantly clear he had no wish to discuss his youth, and Izzy’s relationship with the Master was none of Fang’s business. But just hearing Izzy talk about himself made Fang warm inside, like a parent listening to their child talk about their accomplishments.

“There’s the Kraken,” Izzy rolled the sleeve all the way up, showing the octopus wrapped around his right bicep. “It’s because of the Master’s old pseudonym. Then there’s the triskelion and the LeMarchand Box,” he pointed to the round symbol on his right wrist and then carefully moved to lower his trousers and present a cube on his left thigh. “Got both of those because… well, because I like to get hurt.”

The triskelion’s meaning was clear to Fang, but the cube was only vaguely familiar. And since Izzy was obviously enjoying talking about this, he decided to ask about it, hoping it wasn’t anything too personal.

“That’s from that movie, right? The one with the man with nails in his head?”

“Yeah,” Izzy nodded. “ Hellraiser. It was quite a revelation for me when it first came out. So fuckin’ kinky.”

“Oh, I tried to watch it once,” Fang admitted, hoping that Izzy won’t think any less of him because of this. “Too much violence. I prefer happy movies.”

“Figures. It’s definitely not your thing. So. Then there’s this,” the manager lifted his shirt to reveal an ornate cross on his right side. "Because… of the way I was raised, I guess.”

This was new information to Fang. He frowned, trying to figure out whether questions were welcome here. In search of an answer, he looked into Izzy’s face and saw the man was fully engaged in the conversation. So he decided to try and keep it going.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” he said cautiously.

“I’m not. Not really. Not anymore. I guess,” Izzy shrugged. “But it will always be important to me. In a way. Can’t really explain it.”

“Religion is always complicated, I think.”

Izzy reacted to these words by nodding his head in agreement. Fang felt so proud of being deemed trustworthy enough for the manager to feel comfortable sharing all of this. Unsure whether the discussion was over or not, he kept silent.

So did Izzy, but there was something new in his face now. As if he was trying to decide on something. Was there another tattoo that he wasn’t sure he should show? If there was, Fang wasn’t going to insist, of course. He wouldn’t do anything to endanger the relationship they were slowly rebuilding.

Izzy huffed. 

And then he shook his head. 

And then he rolled up the other sleeve, careful not to hurt his injured hand. And when he lifted his hand up, Fang saw an animal tooth on his inner arm.

No, it wasn’t a tooth. It was a tusk.

Like the one Jack used to wear for a necklace.

Fang swallowed, hard. Suddenly his mouth was dry. He looked into Izzy’s face and saw the man was disturbed, the way only Jack was able to make him.

“Guess you know what this is,” Izzy’s voice was distant all of a sudden and Fang really didn’t like how it sounded.

How on earth did they end up here? Why did everything they did eventually lead them back to Jack? Maybe avoiding this elephant in the room wasn’t as good of an idea as he thought?

“I would have thought you’d have it removed,” the Handler heard himself say, his own voice sounding strange to him.

Izzy turned his face away and was staring at the floor now. Fang felt worry rise inside him again, making him almost physically sick.

“Thought about it,” Izzy said quietly. “ Really thought about it. But it’s a part of who I am. And a reminder not to get too clingy ever again.”

There was a terrible, bitter taste in Fang’s mouth. Perhaps he was delusional in thinking he could reconnect with Izzy? Maybe there wasn’t anything left to salvage there? That thought broke his heart, and he knew he had to at least try to do something to make it better.

There was only one thing he could say.

“I’m sorry, Izzy. I’m so, so sorry.”

In response Izzy groaned and stood up. He looked really tired, as if the weight of the memory exhausted him in just a few moments.

“I’m gonna go,” he said simply.

“Izzy, please. Can we talk about it?”

A sad, tired smile appeared on the manager’s face for a second, as if he was trying to reassure Fang.

“Not today. I think I need some time alone. But I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise.”

With that, Izzy was gone, leaving Fang shocked and confused at how quickly their evening of chilling turned into a nightmare. He was certain he wasn’t going to get a single minute of sleep tonight.

Chapter Text

How the fuck can people spend their entire days doing this? How don’t they go insane from boredom?

Izzy was trying to occupy himself. Or if not occupy, then at least distract himself. To find anything that would take his mind off what happened yesterday even for a moment. If he focused on something else, he would feel better. But he couldn’t, and trying to force himself to enjoy the utter shit that was on TV was only frustrating him.

What he was really doing was delaying what needed to be done, he knew that well. He couldn’t leave Fang hanging, not after how their conversation ended the day before. The man deserved better.

But his anxiety was telling him it would be better to wait. What he was supposed to be waiting for, exactly, wasn’t clear - yet going down to see the Handler seemed impossible. Or rather, continuing their talk did. Thinking about Jack felt him with such a mix of burning rage and bitter shame that even all the therapy Master Blackbeard forced him into wasn’t able to fix it completely.

Fuck.

Groaning, he rubbed his face. There really wasn’t any excuse for him to wait any longer. He’d already stayed in bed well past 9am - something he hadn’t done in years - and then spent another two hours on the couch, trying to convince himself he was resting, just like both his Master and the Handler wanted him to.

No, he decided. Fuck that motherfucker.

Jack had already done enough damage to him and his relationships. Izzy would be damned if he allowed him to keep ruining his friendship with Fang.

This was going to be a very unpleasant talk. He was so fucking lucky Fang was such a lovely and caring person, who was sure to do anything to help him through it.

*****

Knocking on the door suddenly pulled Fang from his stupor. He wasn’t asleep, exactly. But after the whole night spent tossing and turning in his worry, he wasn’t very clear-headed either, finding himself drifting in his thoughts while staring off in the distance.

The moment he opened the door to see Izzy, he suddenly felt fully awake. From the look of him, the manager didn’t get much sleep either. He seemed more distressed than Fang had ever seen him, and it immediately caused the Handler to go into his caregiver mode. There was a man who needed help - and he was going to force it on him if necessary.

They looked at each other for two or three seconds. It was clear neither of them wanted to be in this situation. But there was no other choice here, except for Fang quitting the job, which he’d hate to do, especially now that they were reconnecting after all this time - and he’d like to think Izzy would hate that as well.

No, they had to talk. Had to be adults and have an honest conversation.

His mouth was already dry and his palms were getting sweaty, something he didn’t experience very often. There weren’t many anxiety-inducing situations in his life, so he wasn’t used to feeling like this. It was awful and the thought that Izzy felt like this on a regular basis immediately made him sad.

But there was no time to dwell on this - nor was showing pity to the manager a good idea. Taking a deep breath, Fang moved to let Izzy in and then gestured towards the couch.

Breathe, he told himself. He came to you, that’s a good sign.

“Want some coffee? Water? Something stronger?”

Izzy frowned at being overcrowded with attention - or perhaps at being offered alcohol before noon. Or at being offered it when coming to discuss Jack. Only after the question had been asked did Fang realize it might have been triggering, making panic flash through his entire body like an electric jolt.

Luckily, the manager chose to ignore that and smiled a tired half-smile, much like the one he used while leaving the day before.

“Water is fine,” Izzy said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Silence fell as Fang retreated to the kitchen. When he came back, Izzy was curled up on the couch as though trying to make himself as small as possible.

“There,” the Handler passed him the glass, and their hands touched for a second.

It made Izzy tremble slightly. Damn. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? It was impossible to tell, which only made Fang feel even worse. Deciding not to rush Izzy, he sat down next to him in silence.

Izzy swallowed, hard. He refused to meet Fang’s eyes, and the Handler didn’t really blame him. He cleared his throat.

“So…” he began in a voice so quiet that it seemed entirely out of character for him. “Should talk about Jack, I guess.”

“We probably should,” Fang agreed, fighting the urge to put his hand on Izzy’s arm. It seemed like an obvious thing to do in this situation, but the Handler realized there was no way to say how he’d react.

“Yeah. It’s just… Don’t want you to blame yourself.”

Oh.

This was unexpected. And it was good. If Izzy didn’t blame him for what happened, there should be a chance to rebuild their friendship. The problem was, Fang did blame himself, and if they were to stand a chance, they would have to discuss that - something Izzy was sure to hate.

“That’s good to hear,” the Handler said cautiously. “But it was my fault. I ruined our relationship because you became too much for me, so I pushed you toward him. And I’m so so sorry about that.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Izzy shrugged. “I needed pain and you’re not comfortable giving it. Wouldn’t be fair of me to expect you to hurt me when you’re obviously distressed by pain play. And he was so fuckin’ good with that whip…”

The manager trailed off, clearly finding it too difficult to finish that thought. But Fang knew what it was anyway. Jack was good with the whip and terrible with everything else, most of all having a relationship.

The Handler shifted on the couch to get a better look at Izzy - and the man flinched as though expecting to be physically attacked. Fang’s heart broke at this sight. But talking about his own distress was probably the last thing the man needed from him right now.

“Izzy. Can I do something to make this easier for you?” he asked, hoping it didn’t sound like he was taking pity on the manager. “Do you want me to go sit on the chair or bring you a blanket or something? Please, let me know if there’s anything.”

Silence fell again, and it seemed to suck the air out of the room. Izzy moved, visibly uncomfortable. He still refused to look at Fang.

“There is one thing,” he said after a painfully long moment. “It’s stupid. But I think it may help. If you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

“Tell me. Please tell me. I want to help.”

“You’ve been getting into bondage lately, right? Ivan told me.”

This shouldn’t be surprising, considering the things Izzy enjoyed. Fang thought with fondness of Ivan, who was always so eager to discuss their experiments and share the joy they brought him with anyone who would listen.

“Yes. We’ve been doing some shibari. I’m not great at it, but I know some basics.”

At last, Izzy looked at him. Or rather, he threw a quick glance at Fang before turning his face away again. It wasn't much, but it was progress and it made the Handler feel a tiny bit better.

“The Master and I discovered bondage helps me deal with… stuff. It takes my mind off the worst bits, I guess. It’s stupid, I know. But it helps.”

The idea that the manager felt the need to justify any of this to him distressed Fang. They used to be able to talk about this.

“It’s not stupid,” he said in a stern voice he remembered Izzy responding well to. “It’s just who you are. I’m glad to help.”

Izzy made a sound of acknowledgment. Fang was already on his way to get the ropes.

*****

It felt so damn wonderful that if felt absurd.

The ropes were soft to the touch, the kind that was aimed directly at kinksters and prevented chafing. They wrapped around Izzy’s body like a lover’s embrace. It felt so safe that he could feel his anxiety slowly melting away and his brain shifting gears.

Fang tied Izzy’s hurt hand across his chest to prevent any further injury and then proceeded to create a rope harness. He stopped a few times to ensure the ropes were just tight enough for the manager to feel their pressure without cutting off the blood flow. He was so attentive and caring that it made Izzy’s heart sing a song he was certain it had forgotten a long time ago.

Fuck. He really cares. I can’t have him blaming himself.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said simply, certain that Fang would know what he meant anyway. “I never blamed you, so you need to stop blaming yourself.”

The Handler stopped tying the ropes and looked in Izzy’s face - and for the first time today, Izzy didn’t feel the need to turn his gaze away. It was a good thing that they were talking about this. Fuck, they should have done it years ago.

“I introduced you,” Fang said. “Not only that, I insisted that you get involved with him. Even though I knew he had problems with alcohol and wasn’t good at relationships. I made you take interest in him.”

Izzy felt his face burning at all the memories Fang’s words brought back. But he needed to push through this if they were to rebuild what was broken.

“You didn't make me fall in love with him,” he muttered. Those were words he wouldn’t say in any other circumstances. But the perfect tightness of the ropes across his skin and Fang’s lovely face made him want to say this. “And I wasn’t great at relationships either back then. Got way too clingy even though he was clear he didn’t want any of it. But none of that justifies him fuckin’ assaulting me. It’s on him, and no one else. Not me, and not you.”

In response, Fang blinked a few times and it seemed as if he was about to cry. Fuck. He clearly needed to hear that. Why the fuck did Izzy wait so long to say it?

“Then why did we drift apart like that?” the Handler voiced the exact question Izzy was pondering.

The answer was clear. It had always been clear, but Izzy wasn’t capable of voicing it. He’d rather cut Fang off and make him blame himself than admit what it was really about. It had to stop right now.

“You were the one who dragged him away from me,” Izzy said, his bitterness clear in his tone despite his best efforts to hide it. “You saw me unable to defend myself against a fuckin’ drunk mess of a man. I didn’t know how to deal with that.”

Now Fang really was crying, tears rolling silently down his face. For a second Izzy was terrified that he hurt the man again, but then Fang smiled through the tears - and it felt like the clouds parting to allow the sun to shine on his face.

“Can I kiss your forehead?” the Handler asked.

It wasn’t really something Izzy did. But it seemed perfect right now.

Unable to say anything, he nodded eagerly, each and every movement making the ropes rub against his skin in the most exquisite way.

Fang pressed his lips against Izzy’s forehead, his breath warm on the manager’s skin. It felt sacred in a way Izzy would never be able to put into words.

He shuddered in his bondage, as everything suddenly felt alright.

Chapter Text

Izzy couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well during his Master’s absence. Even though he was much better at dealing with being separated from Blackbeard now than when they first got involved, it still caused him some anxiety. It wasn’t regular-panic-attacks anxiety any longer, but he’d still have trouble sleeping.

But today he didn’t wake up a single time and got out of bed perfectly well-rested. And not only that, he woke up in a great mood. Having an honest conversation with Fang lifted a weight off his shoulders that he had long since forgotten was there. He just learned to live with this burden and eventually it became his default mode. Now, free of it at last, he felt like he was about to start a new chapter in his life.

During his morning shower, he almost found himself humming in his joy. Almost. The sounds never left his mouth, but his mind was cheerful in a way he wasn’t used to. It wasn’t very often that he wanted to share his happiness with others, yet today it felt like he needed to spend time with people. Or with Fang, to be exact. 

Drying himself and then dressing for the day, he kept thinking about how he wanted to see Fang then and there. It felt almost like an early stage of a new relationship when one has butterflies in their stomach and is impatient to see their person every day. Izzy knew that feeling well - from his relationship with Jack and with Master Blackbeard.

But he never knew he could feel like this about a friend. He wasn’t in love with Fang. Never had been and never will be. Even if they were to hook up - he smiled at the memory of his Master telling them it was allowed - there would never be anything romantic between them and they were both fine with that. It made their relationship wonderfully uncomplicated. There was no anxiety here, just joy.

As he was slowly putting on a sweater, his hand making even the simplest actions difficult, his phone vibrated. It was his Master, confirming what Izzy already suspected was going to happen: Blackbeard’s flight was delayed again, as the storms were still raging. It was a bit disappointing for sure. In the perfect arrangement, Izzy would never leave his Master’s side. But he had made peace with the fact that his fantasy wasn’t feasible.

The news wasn’t going to spoil his day, he decided. Even if the business was slow and he had very little to do, he had Fang to help him through this. And he was really eager to see him again.

*****

It was good to be home at last. There really wasn’t anything in the whole world that could compare to having breakfast with Fang. It wasn’t just that the man was a magnificent cook, although his pancakes and banana bread were the best Ivan had ever eaten. But the thing that Ivan enjoyed the most, was the vibe of these breakfasts. The ease and chill he felt when spending time with his man. It was such a great start to a day that going without it always made him feel like something was missing.

There was a knock on the door just as Ivan was about to bite into his pancake. Considering what Fang told them about the events of the last week, it was obvious it was Izzy. Ivan didn’t really know how he felt about the manager dropping on them like that. Izzy wasn’t great at being chill. He could be annoying at times. Still, when he threw an asking glance at Fang, the man nodded and gestured towards the door. 

If the Handler wanted Izzy here, Ivan wasn’t about to argue. In the worst case, he would just leave a bit earlier than his duties required him to. The shop surely could use some tidying up after his absence, so he could just go down there if Izzy became too much.

Opening the door, he summoned his most enthusiastic vibe. Even if he wasn’t Izzy’s biggest fan, he had a policy of always being welcoming to guests.

“Hi,” he said in his most cheery tone. “We were expecting you.”

Izzy’s face dropped immediately. It was clear from his expression that he didn’t expect Ivan here. It stung a bit, but Ivan told himself it was surprise rather than dislike that made the manager react like that.

“Oh,” Izzy said. “Ivan. I… didn’t know you were back.”

“Yeah. Came back in the morning. Decided to drive into town rather than wait for the plane.”

“Right,” Izzy ran his hand through his hair, clearly finding the situation awkward. “Right. Good. The new guy isn’t great at running the shop. I’m…” he threw a glance over Ivan’s shoulder to where Fang was sitting. “I’m gonna go. Don’t wanna intrude.”

Be chill, Ivan told himself. He’s here as Fang’s guest and not as your boss. Just be chill.

“Have you eaten yet? If not, we’re just eating breakfast. You can join us, Fang made delicious pancakes.”

The manager frowned. It was obvious that he didn’t like the idea of Ivan being here. But from what the Handler told him, Izzy was pretty much ordered by his Master to hang around so that Fang could keep an eye on him. The internal struggle as he tried to decide what to do was clear on his face. It was unlike anything Ivan had ever seen.

“ Fine,” Izzy huffed eventually. “Guess I should eat something.”

*****

Fang smiled. Watching Ivan and Izzy eat breakfast together was new, and even if there was still some awkwardness between them, having them get closer would be great for the club. Maybe they could even become friends and ditch the boss-employer thing when in private? That would be great.

They weren’t really talking to each other now. There was an air of awkwardness in the room, but Fang wanted to believe they were silent because they were busy eating. That was another reason for him smiling - they were both obviously enjoying the meal and it always made him feel good to provide for people and feed them.

Ivan was swallowing the pancakes as if he hadn’t eaten in days. It was clear he missed Fang’s cooking while away and it filled the Handler with wonderful warmth and fondness for the man. Izzy on the other hand was eating slowly, his hurt hand slowing him down and his grumpy nature forbidding him from showing any enjoyment in the simple pleasures of daily life. 

“So…” Fang said slowly. “Do we have any plans for today?”

Izzy and Ivan exchanged glances, trying to establish which of them the question was aimed at. Ivan shrugged. Izzy frowned.

“I don't have anything scheduled for today,” Fang added. “My pup wouldn’t be able to make it and had to reschedule. I’ll go to get groceries after breakfast, but then I’m free.”

“I have to check on the shop,” Ivan said. “Izzy says the new guy may need some help. But I don’t have anything else today.”

They both turned towards Izzy, waiting for his input.

“I… Don’t wanna intrude.”

Fang shook his head, the way a parent would when their child refused to understand what they had been saying repeatedly.

“You’re not intruding on anything. We invited you.”

Izzy stopped eating and was just pushing the food around his plate with his fork. 

“You invited me to breakfast,” he said at last. “Not to… anything else.”

Fang sighed. Izzy could be really frustrating when he refused to accept people wanting him. The Handler thought they were over this for good, but here it was again. He frowned, searching for the right words to make Izzy feel welcome. But before he could say anything, Ivan intervened.

“It’s cool,” he said. “I know you played with Fang recently, so I assume this is about me. I can go if you prefer to play alone. Or you can go to Fang’s room at the club. Or I can help if you want. It’s all fine.”

This was exactly what was needed. Fang looked at Ivan and saw nothing but peace on his face. Another wave of fondness for the man washed over him and he saw something change in Izzy’s face.

“I thought we could do some more bondage,” the manager muttered. “I really enjoyed it yesterday.”

Hearing these words, Ivan smiled, excited at the prospect. He was always so enthusiastic about things, and Fang found it endearing. Izzy’s face on the other hand was anxious, as if he wasn’t sure whether his request didn’t cross any lines.

“I can help tie you if you want,” Ivan said eagerly. “Or I can get tied with you. Or I can just go and let you have fun.”

The manager was silent for a moment. He shook his head.

“You can stay. I just didn’t want to barge in on you and demand Fang’s attention, but I guess I’m fine with you staying.”

Fang stood up, already excited about the prospect of playing with both men.

“Since Izzy should rest and take it easy I think I have a plan.”

*****

No one had ever tortured Izzy in such a sweet and soft way before. No one had ever tortured him by forcing him to watch damn procedural TV shows. It was terrible. And it was wonderful, in a way he had never experienced before.

They were all sitting on the couch. Both Izzy and Ivan were tied in a way that prevented them from moving their limbs. All they could do was sit there and watch the bloody shows, which Fang seemed to enjoy immensely.

It was all so strange that Izzy wouldn’t be able to focus on the shows even if he wanted. Sure, he was in a 24/7 relationship and his Master would initiate play whenever he wished. But there was always a separation between kinky stuff and everyday stuff. There was always a clear point where one ended and the other started. Right now he was doing both and it was overwhelming him a bit.

Fang seemed to have noticed his distress because he reached into a bowl of candied fruit that was waiting on the table and picked up a piece of pineapple.

“A treat?” he asked as he held it millimeters from Izzy’s mouth.

The manager groaned quietly, the humiliation of being fed like this making his dick swell in its cage.

It seemed a lazy day of domestic stuff was going to be great fun.

Chapter Text

Izzy was loving his time with Fang. It was completely different from his daily life with Master Blackbeard, and yet it felt wonderfully easy. That was a surprise, for the manager usually found new situations hard to deal with, preferring the comfort of routine. But there was something about Fang that melted his anxiety away. The man was able to take care of Izzy in the softest possible way without making him feel weak, which wasn’t something anyone had been able to do before.

There was lightness in his step as he walked around the empty club, early in the morning, making sure that everything was in its place. They didn’t have many customers in the past week, the bad weather adding to most of the staff still being away, but he woke up so early that Fang and Ivan were sure to still be asleep. Not wanting to wake them up, he picked up his managerial duties with great pleasure.

The hand was also getting better. It still hurt enough for Izzy not to risk taking the brace off or stop taking his meds, but he could move his fingers now. It was a good sign, giving him hope that maybe another week or so would be enough for it to heal completely. That, he’d be able to deal with.

If there was one thing that was somewhat bothering him, it was his chastity. Or rather the closeness and intimacy of his teasing sessions he shared with his Master. Master Blackbeard had scheduled regular teasing sessions for Izzy, claiming he didn’t want his dick to shrivel. They were both into chastity, but the Master wanted his slave to remain fully functional, sometimes even allowing him to fuck the boys he was training.

Izzy was being let out of his cage every ten days, unless the Master decided the slave’s behavior warranted punishment. Luckily, that didn’t happen very often, Izzy being as dedicated to his service as he was. Not every session meant he was allowed to cum, of course. That was a special reward, granted only when the slave was particularly good. This meant there was no way for Izzy to tell when it was going to happen. To stop any possible complications from having him go too long without a release, he was also regularly brought to orgasm in his cage, which wasn’t at all satisfying, but at least it took the edge off and allowed him to empty his balls.

RIght now, the Master’s prolonged absence was pushing his scheduled release back in time and his dick was starting to get impatient. It wasn’t anything that Izzy wouldn’t be able to take yet, but it was the one thing preventing his time with Fang from being absolutely perfect.

He wasn’t going to dwell on it, though. This was the time of reconnecting with the Handler and getting into his own head about such a minor inconvenience wasn’t going to help anybody.

*****

Izzy was on a walk around the block when his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was still raining, but he just couldn’t take sitting around the club, especially with business still being slow. So he put on a raincoat and was now pacing along the nearly empty street, the raindrops on his face making him feel strangely alive.

The buzzing made his heart race and he fumbled around the phone, finding it difficult to unlock the device with one hand. When he finally managed to do so, the Master’s name on the screen immediately made him warm inside, despite the cold rain pouring down on him.

“Master!” he exclaimed, his voice a lot louder than he intended it to be.

“Iz, I finally managed to get through. Been tryin’ since the morning. Fuckin’ storms just won’t bloody stop. I wanted to check in on you.”

This wasn’t anything new. The Master always insisted on regular check-ins and often forced Izzy to talk about his feelings. The manager slowly got used to it and went from seeing it as a humiliating punishment to realizing it was a sign of his owner caring for his well-being. Now he thought of it with fondness, even if sharing his emotions still wasn’t his favorite thing to do. 

“It’s so good to hear you, sir,” he said. “I’m doin’ alright, I think. The hand is getting better and Fang is keeping me occupied so that I won’t get too anxious.”

“How is that? I know you had your issues and seemed to be avoiding each other, but I guess it doesn’t stop you having fun?”

“It’s… better than I expected,” Izzy admitted, joy at finally making up with his first play partner almost taking his breath away. “We’ve talked about our stuff. Seems we’re gonna be just fine.”

“Wonderful,” Blackbeard replied, and Izzy could hear that he was smiling. “Seems like my absence did you some good,” he chuckled.

“Seems so”, Izzy admitted, surprised that such a thing could even be true. Fang was truly a miracle worker. “But I’m starting to really miss you.”

“I miss you too, boy. And I’m trying to get back. Will get back as soon as possible. It’s just these fuckin’ storms.”

“I know. I’m alright, really. Just missing you being here,” Izzy bit his lip trying to decide whether he should tell the Master the rest of it. He didn’t want to sound like he was complaining or unable to take it. But then, he vowed to always be honest. “And I guess I’m a bit disappointed my time out of the cage will have to wait.”

There was a moment of silence on the other side and for a second Izzy was sure the call got disconnected. But then the Master cleared his throat.

“What would you say about asking Fang to supervise it? The forecasts aren’t very optimistic and I have no idea when I’ll be back. Would you feel comfortable with him giving you your teasing session?”

Oh. Oooooooh. 

This was unexpected. And exciting. Izzy swallowed hard.

“I… think I would,” he said slowly. “I trust him. He’d treat me right.”

“I trust him as well. If you’re fine with it then I’ll call him to discuss it.”

“Really?” there was considerably more excitement in Izzy’s voice than he planned - but then there wasn’t really any point in hiding his feelings from his Master. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’ve been a good boy taking care of yourself. You deserve it. There’s just one thing.”

Oh. Right. Sure. It was such an unusual situation that there had to be some rules. 

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m fine with Fang teasing you, but not with you cumming. So please, don’t ask him for permission. He’s such a softie he surely would allow it.”

*****

A soft chuckle escaped Fang’s mouth as Izzy recounted the conversation he had with Blackbeard to him. It was endearing that his boss - one of the most famous Doms and slave trainers in the area - thought him to be a softie. It made him feel wonderful about himself and his craft, as it was precisely the kind of experience he wanted his clients to have.

Now the manager was before him, anticipation clear in his face. The Handler found it a bit surprising that Izzy trusted him this much, but he was glad their attempts of rebuilding their relationship were successful. He smiled encouragingly and Izzy blushed. It was beautiful.

Ivan was there, sitting in an armchair across the room. Blackbeard told Fang he was fine with the other man being there to witness Izzy getting teased as long as it was alright with the slave. It was, so here they were now.

Izzy swallowed as he passed the key to his cage to Fang. The Handler looked at it with curiosity.

“I’d have thought Blackbeard took it with him,” he said.

“He did,” Izzy admitted. “That’s a spare one. For emergencies. Having only one would be reckless.”

That made a lot of sense. Accidents happened, as they’d just been reminded recently. But it also made Fang’s respect for Izzy’s chastity increase significantly, as he realized the manager could really take the cage off at any point. That he had enough restraint and discipline not to do so spoke volumes of how strong a person he really was.

“Alright. Here we go,” the Handler said as he put the key in the padlock.

Izzy moaned. He was naked from the waist down, kneeling on a towel on the floor. Facing him in the same position was Fang, as they decided it could be a good exercise to try mutual masturbation. Smaller towels and a bottle of lube were on hand.

Slowly, the Handler took the cage off - and Izzy’s dick grew before his eyes. It was obvious the man was quite frustrated. And Fang was about to frustrate him even more, which made him feel peculiar.

Looking directly into Izzy’s eyes, Fang nodded. He put lube on both their dicks and then they grabbed each other, stroking slowly. The manager’s cock already pulsed in the Handler’s hand as his hand confidently moved up and down Fang’s dick. The man was good at it and he knew that. Even though they’d not done anything sexual in years, Izzy found the right pace quickly.

In a matter of moments, Izzy was groaning softly. Or whining, rather. He knew no matter how pleasurable this was, he wouldn't be allowed to cum. For a second, Fang wondered how this must be making Izzy feel, and decided he had no idea. But there was no chance of him dwelling on this - or anything else for that matter - as his own pleasure was slowly taking over his thoughts.

But he couldn’t get overtaken by his lust. He was responsible for Izzy and he couldn’t betray the trust both the manager and his Master put in him. It wasn’t easy, the smell of sweat and musk filling the room with pure erotic energy. Not to mention the wonderful, desperate sounds that Izzy kept making.

It was only after a while that Fang realized he was moaning as well, Izzy’s skilled hand bringing him ever closer to an orgasm. He had no idea how much time had passed and decided he didn’t care. They had all the time in the world to enjoy this, and he was going to prove he was worthy of being trusted with it.

A groan escaped his lips as Izzy caressed the head of his dick - and he responded by doing the same. It made the manager shudder. He seemed to be just a few strokes from exploding.

“Fang,” the man said in a pained voice. “Fang, please. Please stop. I don’t wanna cum.”

The Handler stopped moving his hand, but he didn’t let go of Izzy’s cock. He leaned in towards the manager, who responded in suit until their foreheads were touching. Izzy was shaking now, his breath hot on Fang’s skin.

“Go on and make me cum,” the Handler whispered. “Once I’m done I will let go of you, alright?”

Saying this wasn’t all that easy for Fang. It was a bit too much of a mindfuck for his usual taste. But through the haze of desire, he clung to the thought that Izzy wasn’t one of his clients coming in for a soft puppy play. That he was a very different kind of submissive, who needed people to make demands on him and make his life difficult.

It worked like a charm. Another whine escaped Izzy’s lips as he started to stroke Fang’s cock with new eagerness. It was as if it suddenly became the most important thing in the whole world to him, as if his whole life depended on it.

It felt wonderful, the desperate movements of the hand caressing his cock to the sound of Izzy’s heavy breathing. For a moment Fang really felt like he was the single most important person on earth - and certainly the luckiest one. And then he was over the edge, spilling his cum on the towel he was kneeling on.

Damn, what a treat.

His mind went momentarily blank, and when he came back to reality a few seconds later, Izzy was staring at him with big pleading eyes.

“Please,” the manager whispered.

“Yes, darling. I’m right here. I’m going to get some ice so that we can put your dick right back in the cage, alright?”

Izzy nodded, his body shivering. Fang smiled at him and was reassured he was doing the right thing when the man smiled back. Shaking his head to focus, he wiped himself clean and pulled on his trousers.

What an incredible man, the Handler thought on his way to the kitchen. Who’d have thought a week ago that we would end up here.