Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Fang saw him, he didn’t think much of it. 

Well, scratch that - he winced, and sucked some air into his teeth. 

“Cute, right?” Lucius said.

He wasn’t sure cute was the word for it. 

An older man was tied to the X-Cross in the middle of Jackie’s club, clad only in his boxers. He was blindfolded and snarling, and looked to be made of nothing more than corded muscle and scar tissue.

All the skin that Fang could see was red and raw, the stranger’s chest heaving. Even the scars from his top surgery were bright red with bites and bruises.

His lips were peeled back from his teeth. Fang couldn’t hear too well, but it looked like he snarled with every hit.

It was a lot of hits.

Fang flinched at a particularly brutal slap of the crop, one that left a stinging stripe over the man’s nipple. A slap, a pull, a drag.

“Sheesh.” Lucius said, grudgingly impressed, and Fang came back to life. “Fang, babes — are you okay?”

Fang pulled Lucius into a hug, turning them away from the scene. He rested his chin on Lucius’ shoulder.

“All good,” Fang assured. “Just not my vibe. You and Pete-y ready for some snuggles?”

Lucius wiggled enough to kiss him on the cheek. “Yeah, man. Let’s go.”

—-

Fang really should just stay in the soft room.

Even as he cuddled and kissed and cleaned, he couldn’t stop thinking about the man upstairs. He reminded Fang of a dog chained to a post: barking and spitting at anyone who came near.

He pressed a cool rag to Pete’s head with even more tenderness, stroking his cheek. 

“Good job, little guy.” Fang said, cheerfully.

“Huggabuh…” Pete responded, blissed out across Fang and Lucius’ lap. “Huh … yeah.” 

“The goodest,” Lucius cooed. “My good boy.”

Lucius slipped the sleep mask over Pete’s eyes, and pressed his AirPods in. 

“Tap when you wanna come up, okay?” Lucius said, pressing a finger to Pete’s lips.

Pete kissed his finger and smiled, and settled back into Fang’s hands. 

Ah. Young love.

“So,” Lucius said, rubbing gentle circles on Pete’s tummy. “The man upstairs.”

Slap. Pull. Drag.

Fang clicked his tongue, kneading a rough knot between Pete’s shoulder blades.

“I have some goss on him, but … did you know him? You, like, froze.”

Breathe. The feel of Pete’s skin, the smell of the lotion, the give of the couch underneath. 

You’re here. You’re safe.

“Just some bad memories.” Fang said, after a moment. “Maybe he looked a bit familiar. Like Teach’s old crew.”

“That’s it exactly.” Lucius said, leaning in.

He obviously had a good bit of drama to share, but.

Chills were still prickling up and down Fang’s arms, and he had to stare at each of Pete’s muscles to not lose his place.

“Sweetie pie,” Fang said, softly. “Anchor.”

Lucius immediately drew back.

“Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, babes. You gave me all the signs, and I just blew past them.” Lucius said, cringing. 

“S’alright, boy-o.” Fang said, doing his best to smile. “Just. No more, tonight.”

“Of course, love.” Lucius said, softly, and kissed him on the cheek.

Two taps. Lucius removed the blindfold and ear plugs.

“Ready to go?” Lucius said, kissing Pete on the nose. Pete nodded sleepily, clambering to his feet. “Off to the car — chop-chop! I’ll be right behind you.”

Lucius gave Pete a quick pat on the rear before turning back.

“I’m sorry, Fang.” Lucius said, meeting his eye. “That won’t happen again.”

Fang melted, pulling him into a hug and squeezing.

“Ow! My ribs!”

“Payback, sweetie pie!”

—-

Upstairs, Izzy was having a bad time.

Slap. Pull. Drag. 

He sneered, teeth bloody.

“That fuckin’ all?” Izzy said, spitting on the floor below him. He couldn’t see, but if he had to guess… “Put your fucking back into it, Bonnet.”

There was a gasp of indignation, and a sharp slap across his face. 

“You’re not here to talk, dog.”

Edward, coming to his shiny new boyfriend’s defense. Yeah, the slap fucking hurt, s’pecially with those rings, but —

“And you’re not here to give me some love taps —“

The crop hit like fire over his inner thigh: too hard, too fast.

Izzy shrieked in pain, turning it into a laugh. 

It was funny. Ed bringing Stede. It was funny, how it hurt — how everything was dark and awful down here. Funny, how even with the blonde angel, Ed had some demons he needed Iz to exorcise.

Funny.

“Goodness,” Stede said, in that same scandalized tone. “Is he always like this?”

Twenty years. Twenty years of this. The closest he’d ever get to a warm hand.

“Yeah.” Ed muttered. “Pretty much.”

Izzy howled with laughter. He laughed and laughed and laughed…

—-

Scene over. Boom. Done.

Sometimes, when Izzy was more blood than skin, Ed would rest his warm hand on the back of Izzy’s neck. His hands would linger when he untied him, and the rough scrub of the towel could feel like heaven.

“Clean up,” Ed would say, throwing a rag at him. “Don’t want any shit in there.”

All of it was worth it, for the warm hands. For the nice words. 

Izzy had a dream that one day he’d die here, pushed too far, bleeding out, and Ed would be satisfied.

The room would go fuzzy and dark, and everyone would gasp, and know what a good boy Izzy was, how silently he took the pain, even nearing his end. 

Ed would be proud, and he’d smile like in the old days, and clasp Izzy’s shoulder.

He wouldn’t hold him. Wouldn’t kiss him. Too unrealistic — But Ed would say, “Good boy, Iz,” and Izzy would die happy. 

Izzy blinked. 

He was on his knees. Off the cross. On the floor. 

His knees hurt. Everything felt like one big burn.

His ears perked up at Ed’s voice.

Had he been good? He — he’d fucking insulted Bonnet, of course, but it had been a scene, and he knew it would rile them up, get them to blow off some steam, and that’s what he was here for —

Maybe. Maybe a pat on the head? Or the shoulder, even though it hurt?

Izzy looked up to see the backs of Ed and Stede. Ed had an arm around his new boy toy, calming him after such an intense night.

Hate was an ugly thing in Izzy’s chest. An old friend. Kept him warm. Kept him alive. 

He pressed a hand to Ed’s mark and laughed.

Chapter Text

Izzy’s view of the bloodied floor was interrupted by a prosthetic hand — nails cherry red. 

He stared at it. He didn’t know why he was shaking — trembles that felt more like spasms, making his teeth chatter. 

If he raised an arm to take the hand, he would fall over.

Jackie snapped her fingers. “Up.”

It was as though Izzy was possessed. He hauled himself to his feet in an instant, panting.

“Good boy.”

Izzy shuddered, savoring it for one single instant, before coming back to himself.

“I’m fucking leaving, alright? Just …”

Just needed a second. Just needed a breath. Just needed to …

Pathetic. No wonder Jackie was mad. She looked at him with a carefully blank expression, but he saw the corner of her mouth list downwards. 

He squared his shoulders. “Just need my kit. I’ll go.”

“Walk with me.” Jackie said, and left.

Fuck. Izzy’s legs felt like fucking water, but he followed.

“Jackie’s got some rules,” Jackie began, strides long and even. Izzy limped to keep up. “What you say goes, and no questions asked. And I gotta admit —“

A secret corner, another hallway.

“—you’re good for business. You’re exactly what people expect. Guy on the cross, getting the shit beat out of him. They come in the club and see you on the floor, and they loosen up a bit.”

Izzy chuffed, proud.

“But.”

Jackie pressed a button on the wall. Izzy heard the whir of machinery. 

Jackie turned, her eyes piercing through him. Her lips were set in an upset line. 

“You’re breaking the rules. Setting a bad example. Not cleaning up when you should.”

Izzy balked. He cleaned up his own blood, spit, sweat, tears, piss, and — on some horrible nights — vomit and shit every time. Even when his shoulder was dislocated and his back cut to ribbons, and each spray of the cleaner seemed to seep into his wounds. He swabbed the deck.

He must have missed a spot. 

He set his jaw, glaring at the floor.

“So here’s the deal: you set a good example for our guests. You go straight to the soft room from your scene, and let someone help you down when you need it.”

Izzy stared. They had been talking about cleaning.

Jackie glared at the wall. “I’m getting an elevator installed in the main room. I don’t care how fucking old this building is, you’d think with the amount of money I bring in that —“

“Sorry,” Izzy said. “What?”

The elevator dinged. 

“Finally!” Jackie grumbled.

She whisked them both inside. Jackie pointed at one of the chairs in the elevator. 

Izzy sat. 

The elevator whirred.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” Jackie prompted, hands on her hips.

“I didn’t clean up.” Izzy said. “So you’re … sending me to the pansy room?”

Jackie knocked her head against the wall in frustration. Frustration at what, Izzy wasn’t sure. 

“I can clean better,” Izzy said. “I — sometimes I feel sick, with the sprays. I can do better.”

Jackie knocked her head again, staring at the ceiling.

“Jackie’s not talking about the fucking floors.” She said, quietly. “Jackie’s talking about you.“

Izzy stared, flummoxed. 

The elevator dinged. 

The doors opened, and Jackie pointed to a wheelchair next to the elevator.

Izzy glared at her. “No.”

“Then at least take my arm.” 

“I walked to the elevator just fine.”

“Only because I ordered you to.” Jackie countered. “Only thing that makes you fucking listen.”

Izzy grinned. He hoped there was still blood on his teeth. “Damn right.”

Instead of laughing, or backing off, Jackie just looked upset.

“Either you come with me to the soft room,” Jackie began, quietly. “Or I ban Ed from entering.”

Izzy went cold. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

Jackie looked like she wanted to say something else, but held back. Probably how Izzy was fucking it up. Probably how he could be good for business, but was doing something wrong, always wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong —

“You can’t.” Izzy said.

“I can.” Jackie said.

“He’ll fucking —“ kill me. 

But it wouldn’t be Izzy’s fault. It’d be Jackie’s fault. 

No. Ed would see through that. Dizzy Izzy, messing it all up again. 

“God damn it.” Jackie said, under her breath. “Just let me … shit.”

She held out her hand.

“Just let someone take some fucking care of you.” Jackie said, all in one rush. 

“Don’t need it.” Izzy said, automatically. “I’m not some namby pamby, pining for his fucking boyfriend.“ 

Jackie just stared, hand still out.

Izzy didn’t know if he could walk without it.

He took her hand, and Jackie sighed in relief.

“C’mon, man.” Jackie said. “Just over here. I’ve got someone I think you should meet.”

Chapter Text

Stede sighed, staring at the far wall, trying to put it all out of his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Stede said, weakly, and Ed gave him a light slap on the shoulder. 

“Stop apologizing, mate.” Ed said, pausing to grab more lotion. He resumed massaging Stede’s back. “It’s intense.”

Stede hummed in agreement, resting his chin on the back of his hands. He was practically melting into the mattress as Ed’s clever hands worked through his back, his thumbs digging between his shoulder blades.

“I should be sorry,” Ed mumbled. “For throwing you in.”

“Oh, come now, Edward,” Stede said, softly. “You told me exactly what type of establishment this would be, and gave me ample time to research it. I just — wasn’t expecting to be the one needing comfort.”

“Oh.” Ed sort of — chuckled. “You thought you’d be taking care of Iz?”

“It seems silly now.” Stede said. “But — oh, I don’t know. I was expecting him to fall apart, I suppose. I thought he’d want us to kiss him better.”

Ed laughed. “Yeah. Iz ain’t that kinda dog.”

He leaned down, purring next to Stede’s ear, breath hot, lips soft:

“We can always hit him harder next time.”

Stede moaned, and let Ed turn him over.

——-

Fang was maybe expecting that older man. 

But he certainly wasn’t expecting Jackie.

Jackie tugged the man into the soft room by the wrist, eyes determined. 

Fang winced. Poor guy.

The marks on his front had time to redden and puff. Fang could almost pretend he had been wearing a harness too long, leaving red marks cross crossed along his pecs and ribs and arms.

But there were bites. And bruises. 

“Izzy, Fang. Fang, Izzy.”

They stared at each other.

“Fang is wonderful,” Jackie said, and Fang blushed. “If you’re both agreeable, I’d like him to give you a look over.”

She held up one finger in front of Izzy’s face. “I will tell you exactly what that means, so you don’t take a strip of gauze and leave.”

Izzy mumbled something under his breath. Jackie snapped her fingers, and Izzy looked up.

Glassy eyes. Still halfway down. Oh, geez.

“Fang is gonna look you over. He’s going to clean you up. You are going to stay here and chat with him until you’re okay to go home.”

“Who decides that?” Izzy said, nastily. “Sounds like you’re deciding everything for me. Shitty fucking dom, in my opinion.”

“Hi, Izzy.” Fang said, with a smile. Both Jackie and Izzy whipped around to stare at him, as though they’d forgotten he was here. 

Maybe they had.

Fang was good at that — blending in until he had to stand out, keeping quiet until someone needed a nice kiss.

“You’re wobbling on your feet. Come sit down for a sec?”

Jackie and Izzy glared at each other again.

“I’m not gonna force you —“ 

“I would.” Jackie muttered.

“ —- but I think it’d be a good idea.” Fang said, a little louder. 

When Fang spoke, Izzy’s eyes snapped to him, brow furrowed. 

He — he looked like he wanted to drop. Like he was shaking all over, and hoping for someone to hold him.

Or maybe Fang was reading too much into it.

Lucius always said he was a sucker, a softie — would someday get his hand bitten off by a stray that he wanted to feed.

Fang looked at Izzy’s ribs, and his small, watery eyes, and his shaking hands. 

Maybe this was a new stray.

“Fine.” Izzy growled, shoulders down, chin up.

“Praise god,” Jackie said, and stormed out. “I’ll kick him out, Iz! Don’t think I fucking won’t!”

She slammed the door shut before Izzy could respond. Well, it didn’t slam. It had a stopper — sudden, loud noises were kept to a minimum.

Izzy grumbled, staring at the plush rug.

“So. Um. I’m Fang.” 

“I know.” 

“Ha, yeah, I mean, Jackie —“

“No, I know.” Izzy said, not looking up. “I recognize you.”

Oh.

The silence stretched for a moment.

“I left.” Fang said, without preamble. “Didn’t like how they play.”

“Hah.” Izzy said, a single laugh. “Pussy.”

“Come here.” Fang said, with a little more steel in his voice. Izzy’s eyes snapped up at the slight change, wide and shocked. “I won’t bite.” Fang said, to soften it a little.

Izzy flushed, staring at the rug, at Fang’s loafers, at the couch.

Oh, so he was submissive.

“Stand right here,” Fang said, pointing to a spot in front of him. “Face me.”

Izzy let out a breath, grateful for the clear instruction. He moved mechanically, following the orders to the letter. 

His eyes were blank. Doll-like. 

“Hm,” Fang frowned, looking at his front.

“Turn.”

His back was untouched, except for some imprints from the cross. Old scars. Old burns. Maybe a bullet, somewhere in that timeline. 

Maybe a whip.

Probably fun, and hot, and adrenaline fast when he was a young man. 

But fuck, they were getting old now.

“Good boy,” Fang said, without really thinking about it. Izzy shuddered. “Back up a little. Sit down.”

Izzy sat on the very edge of the couch, posture perfect. 

Fang got to his feet, crossing over to grab the first aid kit. “Alright, Boss. This might sting a bit…”

Chapter Text

Izzy trembled like a dog as Fang cleaned and dressed his wounds. 

It obviously hurt - Izzy’s skin jumping and flinching at every swipe - but he still leaned in, forehead knit with pain and … 

Something else? 

Fang wasn’t too great at reading faces. Better to ask. 

“Boss?”

Izzy blinked, taking a second to focus.

“You good?” Fang asked.

“Fine.” Izzy said, his voice a reedy whisper. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “Had worse.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Fang reminded, gently. He stroked Izzy’s arms. They still trembled.

Izzy frowned at his limbs as though they were connected to someone else. He flexed, trying to keep them from shaking.

“Stop that.” Fang said, automatically, and Izzy sighed, his eyes going baby doll sweet. “Sorry, I didn’t mean —“

“Fuck off.” Izzy sighed. “You’re … not bad. Could be someone, if you weren’t a fucking pussy.”

Fang blinked rapidly, controlling his breathing.

“If we’re gonna keep going, you won’t talk to me like that.” 

Izzy sneered, but fell silent. 

Alright. Well. Good enough.

“…sorry.” Izzy said, as though it was hurting him to do so.

“Mm.” Fang said, noncommittally, and tossed another ruined cotton ball. “Alright. You’re good. Stretch around — any tightness? Scratching?”

Izzy rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. “S’fine.”

“Give me an answer.” Fang said, leaning a little more into ‘stern.’ Izzy’s eyes and shoulders immediately dropped.

“Not too tight.” Izzy said. “S’good.”

“Good.” Fang beamed. “We talking about the other stuff, now?”

Izzy prickled again.

It was exhausting to watch him jump from submissive to hostile. It was probably exhausting to make those leaps. 

Fang thought that maybe he could make it easier, could order him, or pull him into his lap …

But Izzy wasn’t a partner, and this wasn’t a scene.

The silence dragged on. Izzy looked at the trashcan, the evidence of his blood and grime. 

“What are you gonna tell her?”

Fang shrugged. “Whether you’re safe or not.”

Izzy laughed — a taught, humorless thing. “Ed couldn’t hurt me if he tried.”

“…are you trying to make him?”

Izzy grimaced, hissing through his bottom teeth. 

“I’m not here to judge how you play —“

“That’s Jackie’s job.” Izzy mumbled darkly. 

“But.” Fang snapped his fingers, and got Izzy looking at him again, eyes wide and glassy. Yearning. Sweet.

It was the type of look that made Fang want to take him home — to check what hankie was in his back pocket and see what he could make of him. 

If Fang had him, he could mold him into something wonderful. Something that curled up in bed and ate out of his hands.

“But,” Fang said again, softly, watching Izzy watch him. “We need to know you’re safe, and will tap out of you need to. We need to know you’re taking care of yourself.”

“I don’t need to.” Izzy said.

“You go home to someone? Get patched up?”

“Not all playmates live together.”

Izzy said that with a sneer, as though Fang were too big and slow to keep up, like Fang didn’t know that already.

It set Fang’s teeth on edge. So he’d cut to the chase. 

“Are you trying to make me hurt you?” Fang asked, bluntly.

Izzy smiled, all teeth. “Is it working?”

“No.” Fang said. “It’s just pissing me off.”

Izzy dropped again. He stared at his feet. 

“Do you like to be hurt?” 

Izzy nodded. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m a freak. Fucked up. Invert. Poof. Whatever the fuck you want to —“

“What do you get from it?” Fang interrupted.

And. Okay. Fang probably shouldn’t.

But he rested his big palm on Izzy’s forearm. It seemed like a twitching branch of muscle, shifting and jumping under his touch.

Izzy looked at it like he was drowning.

“He touches me.” Izzy whispers. “It’s the only time he’ll touch me.”

“Okay.” Fang said, softly. “I get that. When — when he’s striking you?”

Izzy shook his head. Shrugged. Looked angry about shrugging.

“Sometimes — after.” Izzy ducked his head, so Fang couldn’t see. “He touches me after.”

Izzy’s voice got even smaller. “Used to.”

“Oh.” 

Fang kept holding Izzy’s arm. Tears dripped onto Izzy’s thigh, darkening the denim.

Fang didn’t say anything. Just. Gripped his arm tighter.

“Nice. Touched me nice — after.” Izzy choked out, gasping, and then fell into sobs.

“Okay.” Fang said. “I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” Izzy said, anguished. “No, no, no…”

Izzy folded, pressing his face into his knees. 

“Let me say it back, and you can tell me if anything’s wrong, alright?” Fang said, softly. “Okay?”

Izzy made a terrible noise. But he didn’t say no. 

“After a scene, your partner would take care of you. And you liked that. Did you like that more than the scene?”

There was a long pause. Izzy shrugged. 

Fang let it pass. “Okay. But recently, your partner hasn’t been … doing the part you like?”

“Not recent.” Izzy said.

He looked miserable, tears dripping down his red cheeks. He sniffed loudly, and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. 

“It’s been a bit.” Izzy said. “He doesn’t — like that part as much, I think. So.”

What Fang wanted to say was: Ed leaves you to clean up? Alone? Hurt?

Fang didn’t say that. Izzy would defend him. 

“You clean up, and head home.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Does that work for you?”

“It’s better than nothing.”

Fang sighed, a warm, expansive thing. 

“What if we found another option? That wasn’t this, but wasn’t nothing?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Took long enough to set this up. Not gonna ruin it.”

“Izzy,” Fang said, gently. “Now that I know you don’t like it, Jackie and I aren’t gonna let you keep doing it.”

Izzy trembled again. “No. No. You can’t — this is all I have.“

“But it isn’t good.” Fang said.

“Please.” Izzy said, squeezing his arm. “Please, please, please…” 

And it was hard. It was really, really hard. Watching him beg for someone else, someone who hurt him…

Because it was like looking in a fucking mirror.

Chapter Text

This is all I have. All I have. 

Not … all we have. No. Izzy wouldn’t lump Ed in with him. He wasn’t that pathetic, or desperate, or needy. 

He could … Ed would be fine. Would find something else. Had already found someone else.

Ed would be fine. Ed would be fine.

Izzy exhaled shakily, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom.  

Fuck, but why was he considering it? Just because he was scared of losing Jackie’s? Or …

Izzy squeezed his eyes shut. 

No. It was that — fucking pansy with the soft words and even softer hands.

Warm. Firm. Without judgement. 

Safe.

Izzy almost whimpered at the mere act of remembering. His hand was so warm and solid on his arm. Fang could scruff him and tug him along without any issue.

Would he want to? Would he play that way?

Maybe … maybe if Izzy had been good …

Maybe Fang would let Izzy touch. His open leather vest revealed a gorgeous chest and stomach, one that Izzy wanted to nuzzle into and kiss.

Maybe Fang wanted someone to worship him. 

Izzy’s hands crept past his bandages, under his waistband. 

Izzy could worship him.

Izzy could kiss and suckle, could crawl and scrape and cry for him. He’d lick his heavy boots, condition his fine leather jacket, polish his rings until they shone. 

Izzy swallowed heard, breathing faster at the thought of his smell, his sweat, his approval …

Most dangerously —

Most awful, of course —

What Izzy shouldn’t think of —

He whimpered, pinching his clit in punishment. 

He shouldn’t think of Fang smiling, or speaking so softly to him. Shouldn’t think of sitting on his thigh, cradled against his chest.

Izzy was weak, now. Soft, and old, and pathetic. If Fang held the nape of his neck, or let him suck on his nipple, or grind down onto where he sit in Fang’s lap —

Izzy flipped onto his belly, shuddering at the sting to his bandaged wounds. He bucked his hips onto his fingers.

Oh, if Fang let him — let him be collared, let him be held, let him suck and bite and squirm —

Would he hold him? Would he touch him nicely? Would he —

Would he call him a good boy?

“Mm…!”

He came against his fingers, gasping into his pillow. 

As he rode out the orgasm, all he could hear was ‘good boy, good boy, good boy…’

Maybe. 

Maybe.

It wouldn’t be so bad to try something different…

Chapter Text

The next morning, they all met up to talk with Jackie.

It was … wonderful, actually. Slow steps, but. 

They were getting through to him.

Izzy was wearing his usual tight black shirt and jeans, but had a cardigan over top that was so soft that Fang wanted to cuddle him.

Strange that such a small shift in outfit could leave Fang besotted, but. Well.

Izzy had cleaned up his facial hair and slicked back his hair, looking small and sweet, his eyes earnest and wet as he spoke to Jackie and Fang.

Izzy promised to talk with Ed. Come down for aftercare with Fang. Even drew up a list of things he liked and didn’t like after a rough session.

Cuddles. Kisses. Lap sitting. Rocking. Maybe an orgasm or two.

Quietly, Fang began to hope.

Of course, it was only a single conversation, but … 

It was more than they’d ever gotten, in the old days.

Fang watched Izzy leave, cardigan wrapped right around his square frame, and beamed.

Jackie sucked her teeth, one quick, sharp sound. 

“What is it?” Fang asked.

“Oh, who knows.” She said, lips drawn to one side. “It’s just. With Izzy, you know you’re never getting the full story.”

Maybe not. But he had agreed to get care afterwards, and that was a huge step.

Right? 

…right?

—-

Izzy. Talked to Ed.

He did. Literally. Factually. 

He texted: ‘on for 8:00 at SJ,’ and Ed left him on read. 

So. He had followed the letter of the law.

He held tight to this knowledge as he watched Fang beam. 

Fang’s cheeks met the corner of his eyes when he smiled, dimpling under the frames of his thin, square little glasses. 

Izzy wrapped the cardigan around himself even tighter, pretending he was being squeezed by soft, warm arms. 

Just a few more hours. Then, he could be held.

—

That night, Fang puttered around the soft room anxiously. 

He didn’t want to overwhelm Izzy with choices, or make him feel as though he had to do something Fang had set up — if he prepped a bath, Izzy might feel as though he was forced to undress…but should he have one ready?

Fang was hopeful that they didn’t need as much first aid supplies — but would Izzy feel anxious if he didn’t see them ready? Would he think Fang wanted something intimate, rather than to care for him? 

He compromised by setting out some soothing balm, the kit upright, in view.

Fang dimmed the lights a little, and sat on the couch, drumming on his strong, wide thighs.

Still a bit to go, probably. He practically had Izzy’s sheet memorized, but he could review it again. It made Fang feel warm and glow-y, like he could do something nice.

His fingers followed the columns and check marks:

Praise. Pressure. Rocking, kissing, cuddling …

And, of course, the hard no’s — 

Cold water, slapping, insults, Daddy kink …

—-

Izzy spat in Bonnet’s face. 

The stupid blonde gasped and recoiled, face set in indignation.

Izzy grinned up at him, catching Stede’s eye before he could run and tattle to Ed.

“What? Need Blackbeard to punish me too?” Izzy whispered, just for Stede’s ears. “Can’t do it on your own?”

Stede was still uncertain, eyes flickering to Ed. 

Izzy lunged for the kill.

“Useless fucking pansy,” Izzy sneered. “Does he wipe your ass for you, too? Shake your prick after a piss?”

Stede’s eyes lit up with — anger? Expectation? Excitement?

“Well — it’s - it’s better than being like you.” Stede stammered, finding his footing.

“Yeah?” Izzy purred. Bonnet was almost there. Almost ready to beat the shit out of him. 

“Better than — being this sort of pervert, who needs him to beat you!”

Izzy laughed at the attempt. Stede was breathing easier, looking less green in the gills. 

He just needed a little more.

Stede crept forward, looking at Izzy in fascination.

“Fucking queers.“ Izzy muttered, and spat again, right on Stede’s expensive loafers. “Hardly even men.”

Now he had him.

Stede grabbed the back of his hair, ripping his head back to look at him.

“Do you think about him kissing me?” Stede murmured, twisting his wrist. “Do you?”

Izzy screamed, and bit, and hated him. 

—-

A small, quiet knock on the door. 

Fang frowned. Maybe Lucius? Black Pete? 

“Come in.” Fang called, and the door slowly opened. 

Slowly, slowly, as though afraid to anger whoever was inside. 

Fang froze. 

And breathed. In, and out.

Izzy. Izzy was … 

Izzy had … 

Izzy.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Izzy had talked to Ed. Izzy was allowed to play however he wanted. Izzy was here, and standing, and depended on Fang to help.

“Hello, Izzy.” Fang said, keeping his voice steady. “How about a bath, hmm?”

—-

The smell alone …

Blood. Metal. Skin. Burning skin. 

Fang couldn’t look. Refused to look. Looked, but refused to see. 

Saw nothing but Izzy’s glazed eyes and shaking, smug smile. 

Heard, but didn’t listen — to the godawful scream when Izzy’s flesh met the warm water.

Knew, but didn’t know about the bruises and cuts covered by the cardigan. Too old to be from the session today.

Fang was far away as he bathed Izzy. Tended to him. Wrapped him in bandages. 

How would he hold him, he wondered, distantly. His front was healing. His back —

Izzy crawled in his lap, and Fang moved without moving, touched without feeling. Felt no warmth, or softness, or tenderness. 

“Daddy,” Izzy whispered, arms shaking around Fang’s shoulders. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Chapter Text

Fang stared into the cup of tea. It was steaming. His hand was wrapped around it. 

But his fingers were cold.

(He had safeworded out. He had bailed, and left Izzy bleeding, afraid, alone —) 

He felt a firm pressure on his shoulder, and looked up into Jackie’s face.

“You were right.” Fang said, in a small voice. 

Jackie just shook her head.

She pulled out her phone. 

“I’m going to do something stupid.” She said, patting his shoulder. “You wanna go home, or see how this turns out?”

“Um.” Fang said. “Depends. What are you going to do?”

—-

Izzy didn’t feel too good.

It had been — god, so fucking nice to crawl into Fang’s lap. Just like he’s imagined - big and warm and soft and strong. He could be bundled up until he was tiny, and maybe … maybe kissed a little. 

Maybe he could finally come.

But he’d — Fang had been so still underneath him, his hands limp, his arms frozen as if afraid to touch him. That wasn’t so nice, or what he had imagined. He thought Fang would be proud, and kiss him more — because Izzy had been more good, and more hurt. 

But Fang had said, ‘anchor.’ And Izzy had said, ‘no no daddy no daddy don’t leave me no no no’ 

And. 

Now they were here. 

Izzy sat on the couch, staring at the wall.

Fang had wanted him to go to the hospital. Izzy couldn’t afford that. So Fang called his friend who was sometimes a nurse, and a different dom who could sit with him.

So.

The fucking tart who sniffed around him on leather nights sat beside him. Lucius. 

He wasn’t sniffing or flirting now, (pathetic ugly bloodied too-much mess) but had draped a weighted blanket around his shoulders, petting his hair. 

It wasn’t … bad. 

But. Not enough.

“Make a fist for me.” The nurse said, from where he was kneeling on the floor. “Alright. Now wiggle your fingers? Okay. Good. Good.”

Then he stood, throwing a needle and thread into a biohazard bag and lathering his hands in disinfectant.

“Ivan, this is Izzy.” Lucius blurted out, clearly uncomfortable, entirely awkward.

“I know.” Ivan said, in a flat voice. “I remember him.”

Izzy winced, and curled in on himself. 

Teach’s crew. That placed him. 

“It’s not up to me. But. Fang isn’t your therapist. Or your fucking punching bag. Okay?”

“I hear you.” Izzy said, even though his voice felt like sandpaper. “Loud and clear.”

“Do you?”

Izzy forced himself to meet Ivan’s eyes. “Yeah. Just. Fucked up this time.”

Ivan stared at him. Considering. Like he was weighing him in his mind, and seeing if he was left wanting.

Then, Ivan shrugged and left. 

Lucius let out an explosive exhale. “Cool. Cool cool cool. Man, I never thought that I was particularly well adjusted, but —“

“Fuck off.”

“Yeah, sorry babes, but you’re stuck with me for a second.”

He didn’t even — say it like that. Just the way people usually said it.

But even that little hint, ‘babes,’ god, even that had Izzy wanting to stretch out and curl up and be —

“Fuck,” Izzy gasped. “Fuck, fuck. I’m gonna get fucking banned for this.”

“Ermmmm…maybe?” Lucius said, his voice high as though lying. “Gonna be real with you, though…”

Lucius put a little more pressure on his shoulder, encouraging Izzy to lie down, head in Lucius’ lap.

“I don’t think you’re the one getting banned.” Lucius said, from way up high above him.

“Fuck off…” Izzy said, but Lucius was petting him again, and it felt so nice …

—-

Approximately fifteen minutes later, and Fang’s tea had cooled. The man across from him twiddled his thumbs, until Jackie joined them.

“Erm, Stede Bonnet.” 

“I know.” Jackie said. “Was on the check when you broke my condom jar.”

“Well, it was rather slippery!” Stede snapped.

“You were the one that spilled lube everywhere!”

“I get shaky when I’m nervous!”

Stede Bonnet didn’t … look nervous right now. More confused. Annoyed? Worried? 

He had definitely just come from a shower, his curls still wet. He was wearing a different outfit than before - a nauseatingly bright polo and some khakis.

He looked normal. Unassuming. Like a suburban dad with a stroller in his trunk.

(Probably didn’t want to show up with Izzy’s blood on his knuckles.)

Fang worked on his breathing exercises. Izzy and Ed probably set the scene. This guy might be an idiot, but Fang didn’t have to make him a villain.

“This couldn’t have waited ‘til tomorrow?” Stede whined. “Really, we practically just left your establishment! Now a call to come back?”

Well. That ruined Fang’s benefit of the doubt. 

Fang wanted to grab his lapels and drag him downstairs. He wanted him to see Izzy’s back — what was left of it. Make him sew it up himself.

“Where’s Ed?” Jackie asked.

Stede shifted in his seat. 

“Went to bed early.”

“Mm. Did you tell him I called?”

“…yes. But he didn’t say anything.” Stede licked his lips, and rushed to explain. “I think — I suppose he was already asleep.”

“Right.”

They sat in silence, and watched Stede squirm.

Maybe not a villain. Maybe Fang should say something. 

But he was so fucking tired. And — he was looking at Stede, and seeing someone else. Seeing the man who hurt them all. 

Maybe Fang should leave the room. But he had to know.

Had to know … it wasn’t the same guy. Had to know Stede wasn’t Ben, just some blundering idiot who didn’t know the rules yet. 

“Is this … about Izzy?” Stede asked, softly.

Fang froze. Jackie just hummed. “Why would you think that?”

“Well…” Stede glanced at the door.

“I did some ‘Google-ing’ before I came here,” Stede said, with air quotes, “And it just … seems strange. Sometimes. Not that I don’t trust Ed! But sometimes …”

“Sometimes, what?” Fang said, voice raw.

“Sometimes … I worry.” Stede stared at his hands.

“I get — scared to come between them. Ed and Izzy. Like they’re having a conversation I don’t understand.” Stede shook his head, reformulating his words. “Like they’re playing a game they haven’t told me about.”

Stede looked up at them, nervous.

“But in these clubs .. that’s not right, is it? Shouldn’t I know?”

“Maybe.” Jackie said, not giving him an inch. 

“Yeah.” Fang said, taking some pity on him. “Yeah, you should know. What kind of game?”

“Like … Russian Roulette, and I’m the gun.” Stede said, surprisingly serious. Perceptive.

He ruined it immediately, blinking confusingly. “Or perhaps I’m the bullet? The trigger? Hm, maybe not the best metaphor …”

“You want to hurt Izzy?”

“I … maybe?” Stede said, cringing. “I’m rather new to all of this.”

“Gut instinct. Go.”

“I’d only want to if he was having fun.” Stede said. “I’m not sure if he is.”

Jackie looked at Fang. Fang looked at Jackie.

“Should we go ask?”

Chapter Text

Izzy was kissing his fingers.

Lucius tried to flip through his boundary sheet as quickly and quietly as possible. 

He wasn’t sure if Izzy was asleep or not, but — was this okay? Well, maybe he wasn’t kissing, more like rubbing his lips against Lucius’ finger tips and mewling.

It was really distracting, actually. Nice. His lips were cracked and dry, but his little noises were so adorable. So snuffly and cute, chirping and sweet.

And, okay, Lucius wasn’t Izzy’s dom, but MAYBE he was thinking about the public play he and Pete did, sometimes.

What if he took Izzy to the spa he worked at? Would he like an oil massage, or hot stones? Sure, his lips were dry right now, but Lucius could exfoliate them, moisturize them, introduce a humectant to the equation. Mm, maybe the same treatment for his nipples, too…he could imagine him jumping and squirming during a sugar scrub. 

It was a nice thought. Distracting. 

Kept him from thinking of Izzy’s back. 

He was laying on his front in Lucius’ lap. But his front was probably still sore, too. Still, he seemed to doze, chest rising and falling in even measures.

Lucius kept on petting him.

A knock.

“Mm…”

“Hey, baby.” Lucius said, sweetly. Izzy shuddered in his lap — so cute! — “Wanna see who it is?”

“…kay…” 

“Come in!”

The door opened. Izzy froze.

—-

Stede immediately put his hands up, palms forward.

“Ed’s not here!” Stede blurted, without knowing why.

Perhaps, subconsciously, he knew that this would be the right thing to say — Izzy immediately relaxed, glaring even as he trembled.

Well. Glared, until he tried hoisting himself up into a sitting position. Lucius made a sad noise, hushing him. Fang bustled over.

Jackie and Stede stood in the doorway, watching the two of them fuss over Izzy. 

“Something’s not right.” Stede whispered.

“Understatement of the fucking year.” She pinned him with a look. “Ed didn’t want you to see this?”

“I’ve only been here twice.” Stede countered.

He felt — defensive. Of himself? Of Ed? Of their relationship?

“We — he didn’t mean to leave early! We just had plans!”

“Both times?”

“Both … times.” Stede finished, lamely. “I’m sure he didn’t know.”

“Mm. Maybe not.” Jackie said. “Maybe I should have said something.”

Jackie chewed the inside of her cheek, still staring at Stede. 

“Maybe I should now.” She added, softly. 

“I can’t believe you’re all here!” Lucius said, from the couch, a little giddy. “I feel like I’m at the cool kids table. Is this, like, a meeting of the doms? Dom-vention?”

“I’m a dom?” Stede said, aghast. “No, no, that can’t be right. I think I’m the other one. I just do what Ed says.”

Lucius looked at Jackie. Jackie looked at Fang. Fang looked at Izzy. 

“…and then what?” Lucius asked, cautiously.

“And then …” Well. A massage. A nice meal. “What’s it called … aftercare? Ed takes me home and tends to me.”

Izzy made a sound like an animal, leaping to his feet. His bandages stretched and snapped, growing wet with blood.

“Get the fuck out.” Izzy snarled, stalking towards Stede. “I hate you. I fucking hate you! I hate you!”

“Oh.” Stede said. 

Because. Something just clicked.

“Oh, no.” Stede said. 

Looked at Fang. Looked at Jackie. Hoping it wasn’t true.

Jackie looked away, wincing, cringing in embarrassment at the sad scene. Fang was immediately behind Izzy, catching his elbow. Lucius was staring at Izzy’s back, hand over his mouth.

“You’re nothing!” Izzy screamed, spittle flying into Stede’s face. They were nose to nose, now. “Nothing but a new fucking toy! I’ve been here for twenty fucking years! Twenty years, for him — and you — you just walk in, and — and —!”

“No,” Stede whispered. “Oh, no, no, no…”

“No?” Izzy said, a wheeze of breath like he’d been punched in the stomach. “You don’t get to tell me ‘no.’ Not me. Not me.“

Izzy stared at him, shaking, eyes wet. Fang was breathing loudly, still holding his elbow.

It was like the room was frozen in time, Izzy made of ice.

“Izzy.” Stede said. “You … were so good for us.”

Izzy kept staring. Stede tried to remember the articles, what Ed sometimes said,  clearing his throat a little. 

“You … were so good tonight. You did everything we wanted. Thank you.”

“‘Thank you?’” Izzy said, in a tiny voice Surprised. Confused.

Stede glanced at Fang. Fang was still looking at Izzy, but that inch of difference could have been a million miles. 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

Stede squared his shoulders. Planted his feet. 

“Izzy,” Stede said. “You were such a good boy.”

Izzy’s eyebrows knit, eyes watering.

“Such a good boy for us.” Stede whispered. 

Izzy made a noise like a whimper. Froze, like he couldn’t believe it came from his mouth.

Started to shake.

“Good boy, Izzy. Good boy.”

Chapter Text

It was like someone cut Izzy’s strings. He melted into Stede, who caught him under the armpits. 

“Careful,” Fang urged. “Put your hands here.”

Stede wrapped his arms around Izzy’s waist, taking more of his weight. 

“There we go…”

“Good boy.” Stede whispered into his ear. Izzy sobbed at the praise, so Stede did it again. “Good boy. Such a good, sweet boy.”

“Oh…!” Izzy whined. “No, no, no …”

Stede looked at Fang, terrified.

“Not his word.” Fang said, stonily. “Stede, why don’t you know his word?”

“Said he didn’t have one.” Stede mumbled. 

“Who?” Fang said, his voice like thunder.

Izzy shrank into Stede’s arms.

Fang turned, clutching his head. Stede winced, and focused on Izzy again. 

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. My good boy. It’ll be alright, now.”

“No…”

Izzy buried his face in Stede’s neck. 

“Broke the rules,” Izzy whined. “They’re gonna - huh - hate me…”

“Oh, no, sweetheart.” Stede cooed. “No one’s going to hate you. Oh, my dear boy! Who could hate a sweet thing?”

“Hah…” 

Izzy sighed with pleasure, wriggling in his arms.

Was that right? Was Izzy supposed to be doing that? Maybe someone more experienced should take over. 

“Izzy, my dear…” 

Izzy immediately whimpered at his tone, clutching him tightly.

“Hush, love. I was just thinking — my sweet boy should have someone take care of him. Shouldn’t he? Someone good for a good boy?”

Stede answered his own question with a nod, encouraging Izzy to nod with him.

“That’s right! Clever, sweet thing.” Stede cooed. “So, here…wouldn’t you like to go see Fang? Hmm?”

Fang looked at him like … like Stede had a puppy, and Fang really wanted to meet him.

“He hates me.” Izzy whispered. 

“Now, Izzy.” Stede whispered, half chiding. “In my business, we call that catastrophizing. He says you hate him!” Stede called the last part over to Fang, who melted.

Fang stepped up behind Izzy. It was amazing — how he radiated heat and security.

“No, Izzy.” Fang said, quietly. “I don’t hate you. I want to take care of you. Okay? Can you let someone take care of you?”

Izzy cringed away. He looked at Stede anxiously, as though needing the right answer.

“You’ve been taking such good care of us.” Stede said, in a reasonable tone. “Shouldn’t someone do the same for you?” 

“Mm…” 

“That’s right. With Fang now, deary. Off you pop. I need to go speak with Jackie.”

Izzy’s head snapped up, eyes terrified.

“Everything’s alright.” Stede said. “I’m going to take care of this. You stay here with Fang.”

Izzy searched his face, and then nodded. 

Stede beamed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “There’s a boy. Fang…?”

“I’ve got him.” Fang said, holding out his arms.

Izzy turned and immediately cling to him, whimpering and rubbing against him. Fang chuckled to himself, and — lord above — picked Izzy up without any effort at all.

Izzy made a happy squealing sort of noise, looping his arms around Fang’s neck. 

Stede watched them, warm.

Jackie cocked her head towards the door. Maybe Stede was imagining it, but … her eyes might have been a little softer, now.

“C’mon, man. Up we go.” 

Stede took a fortifying breath, smoothing out his shirt. 

“Lead on, Macduff.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

Chapter Text

Fang just … picked him up.

No eye rolls, no hemming or hawing, no begging required. 

He just. Lifted Izzy from under his thighs and hoisted him, letting him wrap his legs around his middle and cling to him like a limpet.

Izzy let out an awful noise, burying his face into Fang’s neck.

“Oh, baby,” Fang sighed. “It’s okay, gorgeous. I’ve got you.”

And - and maybe he did. Maybe - maybe this odd feeling, this moment of feeling so small and sweet and cared for and loved - maybe it wouldn’t be taken away. Maybe no one was waiting to laugh at him, or kick his stomach when he finally relaxed his tensed muscles.

Ed wasn’t here. Ed wouldn’t do that. But Ed might laugh. But Ed wasn’t here.

“No,” Izzy whined. “No, no…” 

Just. One final try. One last attempt to keep control. A chance for Fang to put him down and leave him to lick his wounds. Just in case Fang didn’t actually want to do this. Didn’t actually like him.

“Baby. Let go.” Fang whispered, facial hair tickling Izzy’s ear. “I’ve got you.”

Izzy shook his head.

Fang squeezed him tight, making Izzy whimper in pleasure. It was good. So good. To be … all in one place? All pressed into a tiny container? A container — that’s what he needed, because Izzy was a million scattered pieces, sand on the dock, shattered glass on the linoleum floor. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere. Only where Fang’s aftershave was, or the skin Izzy could taste, or the belly he squeezed his legs around —

“Izzy.” Fang said, an order in his tone. “It’s okay. Just let go.”

Izzy bit down on the fabric of Fang’s shirt and screamed.

—-

Fang sat on the couch, with Izzy in his lap. He bounced him, rocked him, squeezed him.

Izzy was incomprehensible, sobbing and gnawing at Fang’s shirt, flexing and spasming from shoulder to thigh, kicking his feet in little fluttering motions.

Lucius looked — really uncomfortable. Scared. It wasn’t sexy, or hot, or cute. It was uncontrollable and frightening. Embarrassing. 

Fang caught his eye and nodded to the door. Lucius scampered out. 

He was young. Grew up better. Hadn’t seen anyone hurt like this — in an all-consuming storm, drowning standing up.

“Baby,” Fang sang. “Baby, baby, baby…”

He lifted his heel off the floor, and started jiggling his foot. This made Fang’s thigh bounce and shake, almost in time with the spasms of Izzy’s body. Izzy wept and clung, matching Fang’s tempo, slowing just a little. 

An anxious dog. That’s what Izzy reminded Fang of. Gnawing and biting when he didn’t know better. Humping and shaking because he was scared. 

He wouldn’t ever mention it to Izzy — it would embarrass him — but it was Fang’s job to notice. He noticed how Izzy clenched and unclenched the muscles in his ass as he flutter-kicked his feet. Izzy rocked his weight back and forth, causing him to drive his crotch into Fang’s thigh again and again.

It was all self-soothing motions — likely with any friction or arousal as an after effect rather than a goal. 

Was Izzy like this every night? Alone? Was this how he rocked himself to sleep? Humping the edge of the bed until he exhausted himself?  

Izzy made an embarrassed noise. He was blushing. He noticed Fang noticing, and yet …

He still couldn’t stop.

“I’m sorry,” Izzy said, voice high and anxious, still humping Fang’s leg. “I don’t mean to — I’m sorry…!”

“Baby,” Fang cooed, again. “It’s okay. My good boy — you’re okay!”

Fang stroked Izzy’s arms, trying to help him breathe easier. 

His sheet said orgasms were okay. Maybe it could help reset his system?

“Sweetie,” Fang said. “When’s the last time you masturbated?”

Izzy’s face grew even hotter against Fang’s neck. 

“…last night.” Izzy whimpered, as though this was the wrong answer.

“Good boy.” Fang praised, giving him a pat. Izzy humped even harder, panting at the kind words. “Is that normal for you? Every night?”

“No…” Izzy whispered. “Haven’t — for a long time. Just last night.”

Fang frowned. 

“Do you usually — masturbate or orgasm after a scene?”

“…no.”

“During?” 

Izzy shook his head. His movements slowed a little, self-conscious, afraid.

Poor thing. Poor fucking thing. Fang felt a — a kick of something hot in his chest, something dizzying. Something that made him want to wring orgasms out of Izzy and leave him squealing on his fingers. He wanted to milk him dry and leave him in a wet bed after, too exhausted to do anything more than twitch and whimper and piss. He wanted to lock him away on a fucking machine. Wanted to a tie a vibrator to his clit. Wanted him so consumed by pleasure that he’d never crawl back to —

Fang breathed deeply, wrenching himself back. 

“You don’t, usually.” Fang prompted, softly. 

Izzy nodded, shrugged, made an affirming noise. An answer, with as much insulation as possible. Less chance for someone to get mad. Fang hated that he recognized it. 

“What changed last night?”

“…”

Izzy didn’t answer. In fact, he turned his face away from Fang’s neck, towards the opposite wall.

Izzy squeezed his eyes shut. He started humping faster. 

“Izzy?”

Izzy shook his head.

“Baby?”

Izzy shook his head again.

“Oh, baby,” Fang said, delighted. “It wasn’t … me, was it?”

Izzy mewled, and drove his hips down harder. Not faster, but harder, a heavy, seductive drag. 

Less involuntary movement. More purposeful. Chasing something.

Izzy’s breathing was quicker, but more regulated. He stopped kicking his feet. 

“Was it, darling? Was it me?”

“No.” Izzy whined, spreading his legs more, getting a better angle for his clit. 

“”Not even a little?” Fang asked, placing a broad hand on top of Izzy’s ass. 

“Nn — no!” Izzy whined. 

Fang lowered his hand, reaching under Izzy’s ass. He cupped Izzy’s cunt in a firm grip.

Izzy squeaked, grabbing fistfuls of Fang’s shirt to steady himself. 

“I believe you. My good boy would never lie.” Fang said, cheerfully. Izzy let out a sad, trapped sound, and wiggled against Fang’s fingers. “So what were you thinking of?”

“…you.” Izzy mumbled, lips barely moving against Fang’s neck. 

Fang gasped, pretending to be surprised. He took a handful of Izzy’s hair and tugged.

Izzy followed easily, still panting, eyes shiny with —

Good lord, his eyes. He looked at Fang like he was a god. 

Shake it off. Recenter. This was about Izzy.

“What’d you think about me?” Fang whispered. “Hm?”

“Your chest,” Izzy said, immediately. “Your stomach. Your arms.” 

Fang pressed his fingertips harder against Izzy’s crotch, as a little reward. 

“Your — hnn! — hands! Fuck, your hands!” Izzy squealed, rutting against Fang’s grip. 

“Hmm.” Fang said, as though considering this deeply. “My hands, huh? Anything else?”

“How you …” 

Izzy broke off, looking away. His brows knit together. 

He humped a little faster, flexing his thighs, clenching his ass, kicking his feet.

More self soothing. Embarrassed. Self-conscious.

“Izzy.” Fang said. “My good boy.”

That did the trick. Izzy looked up, biting his lower lip. Goodness, what a lovely sight.

“It’s okay,” Fang said, with a kind smile. “What else?”

“How you talked to me.” Izzy whispered. “What you — might say. Maybe.”

“What did I say?” Fang teased. Izzy grimaced, blushing. “I want to get it right!”

“That I was … good.” Izzy dropped his voice to a mumble, so Fang might not hear. “A good boy.”

“You are a good boy.” Fang said dropping the game. “Izzy, you’re such a good boy. Come here.”

Fang tugged him back into his arms — right where he should be (too much, Fang, hold on) — and cradled the back of his head. He positioned Izzy back onto one thigh, spreading his legs so Izzy had better leverage to thrust.

“Go ahead.” Fang said. “I’ll talk to you.”

Izzy whimpered, looking at him nervously. He obviously wanted to hide his face. 

“Hmm, okay.” Fang said, indulgently, and guided Izzy closer. “How about my chest? Huh?” 

Fang guided his face between his tits, chuckling when Izzy mewled, arching his back. 

“Puppy likes that, huh?” Fang said, accidentally slipping into his own sort of stuff. “Does he, good boy?”

Izzy nodded, breathing deeply, huffing Fang’s scent. 

“Good boy. Good bitch. Such a good mount. Try rutting a little more, hm?”

Izzy fucked Fang’s thigh desperately, mindlessly, sweating as he tried fucking Fang’s leg while being as close as he could to Fang’s chest.

“Move if you need to, sweetie.” Fang said. “It was just a suggestion. You’ve been good — you can play.”

Izzy immediately crawled closer, leaving Fang’s thigh, crawling inbetween them. Fang brought his legs back together to accommodate him, watching with interest as Izzy curled up on himself, making himself a little smaller, shoving his face into Fang’s tits and humping —

Well. Humping Fang’s crotch, yes, but also a bit of his tummy. 

“What a cute little pup.” Fang sighed, wrapping his arms around Izzy. This had the wonderful side effect of squishing his tits together, squeezing around Izzy’s nose. 

Izzy suckled and nibbled everything he could reach. Fang chuckled — his tits weren’t that sensitive, sadly, but the scrape of Izzy’s goatee and the wiggle of his tongue were ticklish, in a funny, cute way.

“You like that, huh?”

Izzy nodded, feverish.

“Tell me, baby. Words — or sounds.”

“Uh-huh.” Izzy moaned. “Nng—-uh…!”

“Whenever you like it, oe it feels good, I want you to make a little noise.” Fang instructed, calmly. “You’re far too quiet, my sweet thing. It’ll feel really good to let some noise out. Okay?”

“…uh-huh.”

He gave Izzy a little kiss on the temple, as a reward. Izzy made another little noise at that. 

Another, on the next thrust. Then another. Then another.

Soon, the room was filled with Izzy’s wrecked voice, little ‘uh, uh, uh’s that were music to Fang’s ears.

Just a tiny order — just a little bit of course correction, and look how beautifully Izzy responded. He was like a piece of wet clay that Fang could shape. He could —

God. He could do anything. Izzy would probably like it.

Fang tried to tamp down on the sharp stab of arousal in his gut. It was hard when he had such a pretty puppy in his lap — shaking his hips and trying so hard to be good. 

“Fuck,” Fang whispered, and Izzy keened. “Good boy. What a good boy. Could you come like this? Do you think you could?”

Izzy nodded, still making those little noises. His mouth was open, throat working in a gorgeous flex under his skin.

“Good. I want you to come. Can I do anything to help?”

“I - I don’t know…”

“What usually helps, hmm?” Fang said, rubbing his shoulder. “What do you usually do? Watch something, read something …?”

Izzy blushed, shaking his head, as though that were the most embarrassing thing he could imagine.

Interesting. Something to play with later.

“I thought about things.” Izzy said, after a hard swallow. “What you might like.”

Izzy looked up at him from under his dark eyelashes.

Fuck, but Fang’s mind was already racing. There were so many ways him and Izzy could play, so many things they could try. He knew Izzy would take to them beautifully, happy to accommodate anything for a bit of praise.

That was dangerous.

“How about this.” Fang said, once he had a handle on his breathing. “How about we play a little game? I’ll say something, and if you like it, you make a little noise for me?”

Izzy swallowed again, eyes dilating.

“You don’t have to do any of the work,” Fang purred. “Just keep moving those pretty hips of yours. Keep listening, and tell me what sounds fun.”

“Alright.” Izzy whispered.

“Good. Oh, you must be so tired, my poor thing.” Fang said, sadly. 

Izzy cringed away, instinctively trying not to complain, trying to cover up any hurts.

“Does it usually take a while?”

“Maybe an hour,” Izzy mumbled. “If I don’t give up.”

Again — flames were licking through Fang’s stomach. 

He could have this boy coming on his fingers — thrice, at least, in that amount of time. Over and over, not knowing how someone could take care of him so thoroughly …

“You must be so tired,” Fang said, again, voice a little huskier. “Here.”

He manhandled Izzy again — earning another satisfied sound, an enchanted look — until they were both lying on the couch, Izzy on top of him.

Izzy’s hips immediately rocked just under Fang’s belly button. Fang smiled. 

“You can touch yourself, if you’d like.”

Again, just a tiny suggestion. But Izzy’s hand was immediately down his pants, rubbing his clit in desperate circles.

“Good boy. Ready to play?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Wonderful.” 

Fang took a second to just look at him. Shirtless, just in his jeans, hand down his pants like a horny teenager.

“Silly boy,” Fang cooed, and Izzy whimpered in embarrassment. “My silly little thing. Don’t worry — I’ll take care of you. I’ll tell you what to do.”

Izzy made a sound, lips parting. “Ah…”

“Sounds nice, huh? Not having to worry? Just being taken care of? My sweet thing …”

Fang dropped his hands to Izzy’s waist, petting him lazily. 

“Dirty little thing.” Fang murmured. “I want to take you apart. I want you pissing in my lap.”

Izzy jolted, face on fire. “Hnn —?”

“I’ll hold you down,” Fang said, considering. “Squeeze you in my lap, and fuck you with my other hand. I only need one hand to hold you, don’t I?”

He tapped Izzy’s hip: a little check-in, a little reminder, a little question.

Izzy nodded frantically, face twisted in humiliation. 

“That’s right.” Fang praised. “Just a silly little thing. I’d love you naked on my lap, with those pretty legs spread. What would people see, hm?”

“My — pussy, sir.” Izzy whined. 

“Your pussy.” Fang said, happy to know what words Izzy liked. “Your pretty, pink pussy. I’d only need a finger or two, you tiny thing. You’d be gushing around me. What a sight.”

Izzy squeezed his eyes shut and fell forward again, finding his happy spot in Fang’s neck. 

Fang couldn’t resist giving him a happy little squeeze, giggling at how cute he was. 

“Aww, little puppy! You like hearing that? Even two fingers would be a stretch! Maybe I’d have you crying and gushing, hm? Maybe with use a little vibe on you, too. Where would I put that?”

Fang slapped his side — not too hard, mind you, but just for the noise. Izzy responded beautifully, jumping as though he’d been burnt, hand moving faster.

“Ah — huh, on my — my clit, sir!”

“On your pretty clitty.” Fang teased. “How cute. I’m sure everyone would like to see. I could have you on the couch upstairs, and have a little show.”

Izzy whined, pressing his face harder against Fang’s neck.

“Oh, darling — don’t you worry! We could cover your eyes. You wouldn’t have to look. Poor baby!” Fang cooed. “I’d want you to hear, though. Imagine the things they’d say…Lucius has such a filthy mouth on him, goodness. And Calico Jack?”

Fang chuckled at the thought. 

“I’m sure he’d have some filth for you. Do you like it dirty, baby?”

Izzy sobbed, nodding against Fang’s neck.

“Oh, poor thing! Why didn’t you say so?” Fang tutted, and dropped his hand down the back of Izzy’s pants.

Started rubbing.

“My sweet little thing. I want to tape a vibe to your little clit. I want to torture you, my dear.”

“Mm!”

“I want you coming over and over again. I want you screaming. You can struggle all you like, but I won’t let go.”

He kissed Izzy’s sweaty hair. A promise, not a threat.

“I won’t let go of you. No, I’ll just give your pussy a nice little spanking, until you squirt all over my hand. Have you ever squirted before? I bet I could wring it out of you. Some piss, too.”

Fang sighed, dreamily. Izzy keened, hand hardly moving anymore, just a sharp point for him to fuck his clit against.

“I’ll make you squirt, and piss. I love it when my puppies make a mess. They get a good spanking for it, and cry until they come again.”

“—uh, mm, please —“

“I’ll give you everything, my darling.” Fang whispered. “All you have to say is ‘yes.’”

“Yes—!”

Fang spread Izzy’s asscheeks, tickling his hole with his pointer finger. Izzy arched his back, bucking his ass back into Fang’s hands, and came.

Fang wished he could see Izzy’s face. He moaned like a whore when he orgasmed, twitching and gushing in his boxer briefs.

“Thank you,” Izzy sobbed. “Yes, oh, uhhh…”

“Good boy. Keep breathing.”

“Uh..! Fuck!”

It seemed to go on forever. Izzy’s muscles were pulled taut, tits bumping against Fang’s own chest. Izzy moaned again, rubbing his nipples against Fang’s shirt. 

“Fuck me.” Izzy gasped, as he rode it out. “Oh, fuck me, fuck!”

Fang squeezed his ass cheeks, digging his fingertips into his scarred, muscled flesh.

“Good boy,” Fang coaxed. “Just keep coming. What a good bitch. Oh, how lovely would that feel on my cock. Are you still gushing, my sweet?”

Izzy wailed, and finally collapsed. He humped a little more, through the aftershocks, but whined — as though every movement hurt. 

It probably did. 

“Poor puppy,” Fang cooed, finally releasing Izzy’s ass. He removed his hands, and gave Izzy a pat on the seat of his pants. “Finally got to come. Did that feel good, baby?”

“Yes, daddy.” Izzy slurred, and passed out. 

Oh, shit. 

Chapter Text

Edward stared at the ceiling.

He wasn’t asleep. Hadn’t been since Stede left. 

It felt like ants were crawling up his legs, biting up into his knees. It was like a game — swing how still he could be while his body and brain were on fire. 

No TV, no phone, no lights, no moving. How long before he’d break?

His other game was holding his eyes open until they dried out, until strange colors swirled on the ceiling like an oil spill. 

The darkness swam in front of him. He could feel his legs spasming.

“My love?” Stede called, and Ed curled up on his side, squeezing his pillow.

He heard the front door, and toss of keys on the counter. 

Stede always hung them up, or put them in the little bowl. 

Ed started to shake.

Stede was coming up the stairs, now — footfalls louder and louder and louder and louder …

“My love,” Stede whispered, from the doorway. “My darling. I think we need to talk.”

Ed squeezed his eyes shut.

—-

Fang got him to drink two and a half bottles of Gatorade. Blue, Orange, and half a Red. 

“Really into piss, huh?” Izzy mumbled into the lip of the drink.

Fang ignored the little jab, lifting the bottom of the bottle up with his finger, tilting more of it into Izzy’s mouth. 

Izzy drank it down. Still so obedient.

“How honest were you with me and Jackie?” Fang asked.

Izzy took another drink — this time, to avoid the question.

“Izzy. Do we need to fill out the forms again?”

“…maybe. I guess.” Izzy shrugged. “There was some shit that didn’t make sense.”

Fang let out an explosive sigh. Izzy raised his chin at him, in a weird sort of challenge.

Ah. This old play. The “yeah-I’m-submissive-but-not-outside-the-bedroom” posturing. Proof he was still a man, and not something too pathetic.

Izzy was trembling, and wrapped in a blanket, taking little sips in a bottle that seemed too big for him. Not pathetic, per se, but certainly sweet.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Fang sighed.

Izzy froze.

“You … want to keep going?” Izzy asked carefully, watching him closely.

“I want to talk with you and Jackie again, and re-do those forms. I want to have a few more conversations with you. And then…” Fang rested a hand on Izzy’s knee. “Yes. I’d love to keep playing.”

He stroked Izzy’s bony knee with his thumb, watching his face turn several lovely shades of pink.

“But … why?” Izzy said, in a tiny voice. “I’ve broken every rule. Fucked everything up.”

Fang smiled, kind of sadly. 

“We came from the same place. Right?”

Izzy froze, staring at him.

“Then I get it.” Fang said, softly. “We had different rules. Bad ones. It’s … hard to come back from that.”

They sat quietly for a moment.

It was frightening. Awful. But … sort of nice. To have someone who understood.

Izzy slowly stretched out his leg, bumping Fang’s hand with his foot. Fang curled his fingers around Izzy’s ankle.

They both breathed together.

“As for the ‘why,’ though…” Fang chuckled, stroking Izzy’s skin. “You’re handsome. Responsive. I think we could have fun playing together — whether that’s here or at my place.”

Izzy jerked like he’d been electrocuted.

“Handsome ,” Izzy said, laughing in disbelief, “Me?”

Fang nodded.

“Fucking why?”

Poor puppy.

Fang leaned down and kissed the top of his foot. It was dusted with dark hair. He was missing a toe — a wound that healed badly, based on the scar tissue.

“I love new puppies.” Fang whispered. “I love to take care of them.”

Fang took Izzy’s foot into his lap. Izzy gasped at the feel of Fang’s cock against his heel — half hard.

“You’re not joking.” Izzy said, in disbelief. “You really…fuck.”

“Mmhmm.”

Izzy kept staring at him. Fang kept smiling. 

“So. What do you want to do?”

“I guess … I …” 

Izzy kept moving his foot, staring at Fang’s crotch. He was blushing, dragging his heel up and down Fang’s cock. Fang hummed, a comfortable sound. He rubbed Izzy’s foot.

“I want …” Izzy swallowed hard. “I want to try. Again.”

Fang smiled at him.

“Can I—? Please?” Izzy blurted, blushing. His eyes were hungry.

“No, darling.” Fang said, and Izzy whimpered. “I’ll take care of that. You need to rest.”

“But you haven’t finished, yet.” Izzy whined. “I can do that. I want to do that. Please?”

“Oh, sweetie.” Fang sighed. 

There was probably a few things going on. Sure, Izzy was attracted to him — but wanted proof that Fang liked him, to show he could be good for him, evidence that Fang thought he was desirable.

Izzy had passed out for a few seconds. Izzy was dehydrated, and barely sitting up.

“How about this?” Fang said, gently. “How about you put your head on my leg, and watch me take care of it?”

Izzy crawled over and immediately flopped to his side. That little movement exhausted him, and he groaned into Fang’s leg. 

“Poor baby.” Fang whispered, and pet his hair. With his other hand, he undid his jeans. “My sweet boy.”

—-

Izzy panted at the smell. 

He hadn’t even seen Fang’s cock yet, but he had felt the vague shape of it. He wanted it in his mouth. In his hand. On his face, slapping him and rubbing precome on his cheek. He hadn’t had penetrative sex in years — but he’d try again, for Fang, for whatever he was packing.

He’d felt fucking thick.

Fang undid his jeans and pulled back his briefs. The smell was stronger, and Izzy’s tongue fell out of his mouth to try and taste it.

Fang took himself in hand, and Izzy moaned.

“Please,” Izzy begged. “Please, please, please.”

Fang had a gorgeous cock. Small, maybe three or four inches long, and so fucking thick. His balls were huge, too — soft and smooth against the bottom of his hand. He had a white thatch of pubic hair that looked soft and inviting.

Izzy whimpered. Fang’s fist completely hid his cock from view.

“No,” Izzy whined. “No, please. Can I suck it?”

Fang chuckled again, stroking himself lazily. “Not right now, baby.”

Izzy whimpered. He crept closer. 

The fucking smell. The sweat. Fang’s foreskin, and the glimpses Izzy saw of his glans…

Izzy’s mouth was watering. Fang cupped his hand under his lips.

“Spit.” Fang said, and Izzy drooled all over his big hand. “Good boy.”

Fang slathered himself with Izzy’s saliva. He began to stroke himself with just two fingers, so Izzy could see better.

Izzy watched, making little noises he couldn’t control, humping his hips into the couch. He tried to notice everything — if Fang liked to tease himself, or cup his balls. If he would fuck like a jackhammer, or twist his hips.

He wanted it in his mouth. He wanted it so fucking badly. Fang put his hand on the nape of Izzy’s neck, holding him in place.

“We’ll redo the forms, and both get tested.” Fang said. “Then maybe you can have a treat. Okay, baby?”

Izzy nodded, eyes never leaving Fang’s prick. Fang chuckled, patting Izzy on the shoulder.

He grabbed the base of his cock between his thumb and pointer finger. He shook it a few times. Izzy whimpered when he saw a bead of pre-come on the head — wasted to the air, and not his greedy mouth. 

Fang ran his thumb over his slit, and they both groaned.

“Then I’ll give you a treat,” Fang said, again, a soft growl to his voice. “I’ll give you whatever you like. Whatever you deserve.”

Izzy panted hot breath on Fang’s cock.

“I’ll plug that pretty mouth of yours. Give you something to suck on. That’ll make you feel better, won’t it, pup?” 

Fang shook him by the back of his neck. Izzy nodded, mouth open, trying to imagine it. 

“I bet you’re good at sucking, aren’t you? Or are you just a stupid thing? Just there to drool and have a prick on your tongue?”

Izzy nodded again, frantically, letting drool run down his chin. Fang ran his clean hand through the mess, rubbing it in Izzy’a goatee. God, he wished it was his other hand, wished he could taste —!

“Little bitch.” Fang said, gruffer than Izzy had heard before. “Then we can give you a proper fuck. Mess you all up inside…”

Izzy shifted so he was nearly off the couch, one knee dangling, the edge of the cushion against his cunt. Fang pressed three thick fingers into his mouth, and Izzy gurgled around them. 

“Fuck. Could breed you up, couldn’t I? Get you round with puppies?” 

Fang was panting now, fisting himself, uncaring of Izzy’s view. It was fucking gorgeous — the way this gentle, sweet man took his pleasure the way he wanted to.

He was fucking his fist. He could fuck Izzy like that, too.

“Oh, you’d like that. Yes, you would. Suck on my fingers, you sweet little thing. Show me how you’d treat me.”

Izzy hollowed his cheeks, licking and sucking desperately. He would have tried to bob his head, but the way he humped the couch made it too confusing. 

“Terrible.” Fang said, like a disappointed school teacher. “But we can get you practiced. Get you a gag shaped like a prick, mm? Get you to shut up? Leave it in ‘til you’re good and wet, and shove it all inside. Does that sound nice, little pup?”

Izzy sucked mindlessly, fucked mindlessly. He moaned around Fang’s fingers. 

“Oh, of course it does.” Fang panted. “Mmm — my little bitch. My good little — my little pup —!”

Fang groaned, and spilled into his palm. He tipped his head back onto the couch cushion, jaw slack.

He was gorgeous. Gorgeous. 

Izzy swallowed everything he could, cleaning up Fang’s fingers. His legs were cramped and his knee hurt. He crawled back up on the couch, too tired for an orgasm. 

Fang smiled at him, face shining with sweat. An adorable flush painted his round cheeks.

“Sorry ‘bout some of that.” Fang coughed. “Got a little carried away.” 

Izzy shook his head, humming around his fingers. Fang beamed, removing his fingers and wiping them on his jeans.

“Let’s get cleaned up, and both of us head to bed. Okay? Then we can have another chat soon.”

Izzy nodded sleepily, butting his forehead against Fang’s shoulder.

“Good pup,” Fang whispered. “I’m so proud of you. We’re gonna be lovely. Together.”

And you know what? Fuck it.

Izzy decided to believe him. 

Chapter Text

Izzy scrolled on his tiny phone, the cracked screen jagged against his pointer finger. He squinted.

“This man is old.” Jackie proclaimed. 

“Jackie.” Fang whined.

“Normal people use their thumbs! Look at this dinosaur.”

“I am exactly one year older than you.” Izzy said, absentmindedly. 

“Me, too.” Fang said, giving Jackie puppy dog eyes. “Am I a dinosaur?”

“Hm. More like a big mush.”

“I’ll take that.”

“Right.” Izzy proclaimed. “This shit doesn’t make any sense.”

Jackie sighed. “Here we go.”

“Why would we need a ‘scene title?’ Or a list of medications?” Izzy took off his glasses. “And why the fuck does a dom have hard limits?”

“Oh, boy.” 

“Well, it’s just a template, right?” Stede said, perkily. “I’ve even found sites where you can write your own!”

“Yeah, one more question.” Izzy said, pleasantly. “The fuck is he doing here?”

“I’m learning!” Stede said, excitedly. He grabbed some pens and highlighters and held them up, happy to show his studious nature. “I even have sticky notes!”

“He’s helping pay for the renovations.” 

“I’m helping pay for renovations!”

“As much as I love your enthusiasm —“ Fang began.

“Why, thank you!”

“— I’d prefer for this conversation to be a bit more … private.”

Stede blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Oh. I see.” 

Stede perked up again. “I’ll go say hi to Lucius!”

Fang waved goodbye as he practically skipped out of the room. 

Then he looked at Spanish Jackie.

“Jackie owns the place!”

Fang raised his eyebrow.

“…Jackie’s kind of curious!”

Fang waved goodbye, twinkling his fingers. Jackie grumbled, but left.

Izzy harrumphed, tossing his tiny phone on the table. He crossed his legs, wiggling his foot.

“This only works if we’re honest with each other.” Fang reminded him. “And trust each other.”

“Yeah.” Izzy mumbled. “I get it. I’ll fill it out.”

“I will too.”

A small silence. Comfortable? Uncomfortable? 

Izzy was scrutinizing him. Fang stared back, smiling.

He was rather handsome. Cute puppy. 

“What do you get out of this?” Izzy asked.

He’d posed the question before. A thousand different ways, it felt like — Izzy always asking, why me? What do I give you? Do you like me?

“I get a puppy to play with.” Fang answered, something similar to before. “Something to take care of.”

“Like a fucking plant?”

“More of a cactus.” Fang teased.

Izzy made a little ‘harrumphing’ noise, and flipped through the other packet.

Kinks. Interests. Limits. Check mark for yes, ‘X’ mark for no. 

“You’re a dom, but you get limits too.” Izzy said, rolling the words around in his mouth.

“Yes.”

“Even if I don’t … do anything to you?”

“The way I feel it out, is that it’s not one person doing something to the other.” Fang said, gently. “Just the two of us doing things together. Like a conversation.”

“So,” Izzy blinked. Swallow. “Do you have a list like this?”

“Yeah. But I want you to do that on your own, first.” 

“I don’t know where to start.” Izzy said, all in a rush. “So — can I just see what you like? And go from there?”

“No.” Fang said, simply. “What if you just pretend to like what I like, just to make you happy?”

Izzy narrowed his brows. “Ain’t it ‘trust and fucking honesty?’”

Yeah. Okay. Sort of.

Fang sighed, resting his chin on his hand. Izzy was wiggling his foot again, looking twitchy. 

“Can I come sit by you?” Fang asked, softly.

Izzy shrugged. That jerky, expansive movement. That move that said, I don’t know what answer you’d like, so do whatever.

“Izzy,” Fang tried. “Do you not want me over there?”

Izzy stuck out his chin. Got a bratty look on his face. A challenge. “…not right now.” 

Fang nodded. “Alright.”

Izzy stopped moving completely. His eyes widened. 

Oh, baby. Poor, poor baby. Fang tried to keep talking without any pause, letting Izzy know it was okay to say ‘no,’ that he didn’t ruin anything.

“I think it would make me happiest to fill out these forms separately. That way, I don’t assume you’re saying things to make me happy, and you don’t assume I’m just spoiling my newest puppy.”

Izzy blushed. He finally closed his mouth. 

“So. We both fill out the forms. There’s space next to everything for notes or questions. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Izzy mumbled. “If — maybe if I really don’t like something, I could put more than one ‘x?’”

“That’s a great idea.” Fang said, warmly. “And more than one ‘check,’ or a plus-sign, too. And you can write down any questions or conditions.”

Fang could see Izzy rifling this information away. Maybe he took it as an order, or some homework for Fang to check later. Had Izzy been a good student?

Fang thought of Stede and his highlighters, and tried not to chuckle.

“Good. Perfect.” Fang said, smiling. 

Izzy nodded hesitantly at him. He took a little breath, like he was about to say something.

“Yeah?” 

Izzy cringed, and shook his head.

“It’s okay. What is it?”

“I was being a shit. Before. Maybe …” Izzy clenched the papers in an iron grip. “Maybe … if you still wanted to. If you want.”

Izzy’s face was on fire. He — sort of motioned with his head.

Fang hoped one day he could just say it. But hey — baby steps. And everyone communicated differently. 

“…come sit by you?” Fang asked, softly. 

Izzy nodded, clenching his teeth and grimacing. 

“Do you want me to sit by you?” 

Izzy nodded like it hurt him. 

“Are you sure?”

“Trust and fucking honest.” Izzy hissed. “Twat.”

“Yeah, fair enough.” Fang said, and sat beside him.

Oh, Izzy. Just like a dog.

He froze and then shook, staring with hopeful eyes. Begging for a pat without a word. 

Fang fucking knew that tactic. If you asked with words, you might get punished for being too greedy. So you learned to ask in a different way.

“I want to give you a hug.” Fang said, evenly. Not an order. Not a punishment. Just … a random want. “Can I give you a hug?”

Izzy leaned into Fang’s side without a word. 

—-

Stupid fucking paperwork. 

Izzy clicked his pen anxiously. He had considered using a pencil and writing very lightly in case he had to erase. But perhaps Fang would appreciate ink more — could see the whole thought process, with lines crossed out, and see that Izzy wasn’t second guessing himself.

Izzy was confident. Cool. Used to this. Just paperwork. Easy as pie.

“Fucking shit twat fuck.” Izzy growled. He hadn’t even filled in the line for his fucking name.

“Fuck.”

He scribbled his way through the first few sheets. Name, pronouns, medications, injuries, allergies … whatever. Fuck it. No dairy. No meat. Penicillin, kiss my ass. 

“Fuck.” Izzy said, because now it was time for —-

Little boxes. Next to filthy words. And a helpful line for — notes and questions. Conditions, Fang’s voice helpfully supplied.

He could feel his ears heating up as he skimmed through the list. People were into that? People did that? Did he want to do that? Did Fang —-?

Fuck. Okay. 

“One at a time.” Izzy mumbled. “Alphabetical. A is for …” 

Age play. Apparently. Izzy immediately moved to make an ‘X,’ but — 

Good boy. He liked ‘good boy.’ 

“Fucking forms.” Izzy seethed, drawing a question mark. “No one ever fucking explains a god damned fucking …”

He wrote a note on the line. not being a kid. i like ‘good boy.’ 

Izzy huffed, staring at his clumsy little letters. Should he add more? Replace the question mark with a plus sign? 

He put a plus sign next to ‘good boy.’ Then another one, and another one. Embarrassed, he crossed out one of them. Then, angry about being embarrassed, he added it back, and added another out of spite.

He breathed slowly. Good boy. Four plus signs. Seemed about right.

Anal, yes. Abrasion, no. Actirasty, he had to look up — a maybe. Bondage, yes yes yes, cuckold, no no no. 

He got into a — rhythm, sort of. Just talking about himself. Not even thinking about what Fang might like. Just … him. 

He shifted his thighs together. It was … sort of arousing. Luxurious. Decadent.

Greedy, a harsh voice whispered, and he made his next check mark extra big to compensate.

Dominance. Please. Yes, please. 

Izzy went back up to it. Fang probably knew, but —- not me, but you as dom. 

Electro? No idea. Erotic Asphyxiation? Why not. Feet? Izzy wrote, boots. Gagging? Izzy wrote, not puke.

Humiliation…?

Izzy’s pen hovered. 

He ground his teeth together, thinking. 

Sometimes —- sometimes, it felt really nice, when —- 

But he didn’t know why —- 

“Fuck.” Izzy whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He tried to imagine Fang like that. Fang laughing at him. Kicking him down in front of a group of men. Calling him a woman. A pussy. Pouring a glass of piss over his head. Feeding him something bad, and denying him the restroom. Laughing when he puked, or worse. Laughing. Laughing at him.

Izzy exhaled shakily, the paper swimming in front of his wet eyes. For a second, he could taste his own shit on Hornigold’s boot.

Fang wouldn’t do that. He didn’t know what Fang was into. But Fang wouldn’t do that.

Fang might — Fang liked to see his puppies make a mess. Liked to see them squirt.

Fang might … might grope him. Maybe at Jackie’s club. Maybe with other people around. Maybe he’d grab his pussy. Spank it.

Maybe he’d say ‘good girl,’ and Izzy would blush, but he’d get wet, too. Because Fang wasn’t mean, but playing. Fang wasn’t doing it to him, but with him. 

Izzy shifted again. 

Maybe Fang would have him crawl beside him. Kneel at his feet. Good puppy. Maybe shirtless, pinching his nipples, slapping his tits. Maybe — maybe some clamps on his nipples, because a quick pinch never did much, but when it was long and inescapable —-

Izzy pinched himself, hard, through his shirt. He tugged and tugged and moaned.

—- bad puppy. Bad girl. Because he couldn’t help himself. He’d hump up into his pants, hump the floor, hump Fang’s boot. No, Fang’s leg. Yes, his leg, dragging his wet pussy all over his jeans, making a big mess. 

How embarrassing. Bad girl. So bad, in front of all these nice people. 

Izzy threw the papers to the side, and shoved his hand down his pants. 

Maybe then Fang — Daddy — oh, maybe Daddy would spank his pretty pussy. His pretty, nasty pussy. So pink and greedy, so wet all the time. 

It’s okay, Daddy would coo, when he saw Izzy crying. So humiliated, with his pussy on display. Don’t be embarrassed. You’re just a silly little puppy. They understand. Daddy needs to take care of you.

He’d spank Izzy right on the cunt, and it would sound so fucking wet. People would laugh at that, at how horny he was for his daddy, how he was begging for a good fuck. 

Come get a closer look. No, look right here. Down here. It’s okay, he knows. He knows what happens when he’s a bad girl. 

Izzy whimpered and turned over on his belly, humping the couch. 

Poor baby, someone would say. Lucius? Jack—? Looks awful empty. 

Always empty. Daddy would coo. Always wet, the little bitch. Here’s another spank for you — another — another — fuck! —- this poor little twat. So needy for his Daddy. Dumb little bitch. Dumb slut. You gonna come, baby? Just from this? Gonna make a mess again? No, no, don’t hide — let me turn you, so they can see. He squirts like a fucking dream, yes he does. You gonna squirt all over yourself? All over daddy? Let me help. Oh, you like that?

“Daddy…” Izzy mewled. 

Yes, he does. Oh, he does — look at his pussy twitch. So swollen and pink. Let me pinch it again. Grab it again. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy…!”

Don’t you dare come. Not while I rub your clitty. You’ll be sorry. Oh, you stupid pup —

“Daddy!”

—-

A few minutes later, he drew a shaky check. Beside it, he wrote can we talk about it? 

Chapter Text

Ed had started journaling.

Well, not like a journal journal. More of a sketch pad. It was full of doodles and shapes. Sometimes fractions of lyrics or poems or —

Words. Just a single word.

Repeated over and over again.

He was currently working on a storm cloud made entirely out of the word ‘fuck.’ 

“My darling!” Stede sang, and Edward nearly ripped out the paper. He flipped to an earlier page — one filled with flowers — and added some more leaves. “How are you, deary?”

Ed pulled out one of his most charming smiles. “Good. Better, I think.”

“Wonderful.” Stede said, and Ed tried not to think of it like a pat on the head. Good boy, Eddie, getting your homework all done —

Ed let out a shaky exhale.

“Darling,” Stede said, softly. “Are you sure? You don’t have to … pretend, for me.”

Ed stared down at the stupid little drawing. 

He turned, and buried his face in Stede’s tummy. 

“Oh, sweetness.”  

Stede ran his fingers through Ed’s hair, rubbing his back with his other hand.

“Did she say anything about me?” Ed asked, muffled. “Spanish Jackie?”

“She said that you were once good friends.” Stede said, delicately. “…she said she missed her friend. And that she needed to talk to you, before we visited the club again.”

Ed squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m scared,” Ed whispered, and almost hoped Stede couldn’t hear. “I am so fucking scared.”

“I know.” Stede said, and kissed the crown of his head. “But I’ll be right there with you.”

The journal had flopped back to its original page. The thundercloud page. 

Stede wished he could write in Ed’s journal. He would draw a cloud filled with ‘brave, brave, brave…’

-

Because god hates sinners, Izzy was sick.

He had been so excited to meet with Fang. Well, excited and scared: a fizzy, bubbling feeling in his tummy that felt like the hiccups. 

Fucking christ. He wasn’t a schoolboy. It wasn’t like they were sneaking a first kiss.

But those silly forms had got him lit up with anticipation, and curiosity. 

What had Fang marked as his favorites? What were his question marks? Did any of them match his? If he was so excited to hear about Fang, could —- could Fang be excited to hear about him? 

Of course not. There was no way. It was just honesty and trust. An exercise.

If Izzy was excited about the exercise, did it lose its meaning? Honesty and trust was —- an order, right? A responsibility? Not something that’s supposed to be fun? 

Was it … fun, to trust Fang?

His phone started buzzing. Izzy jumped. They were going to use Zoom, or FaceTime, but Izzy had an Android and Fang couldn’t figure out how to download an app. Lucius could have helped, but Izzy had quickly assured Fang it was okay. 

Might be easier not to see his face.

Izzy was panicking. It was still ringing. He stabbed his finger into the screen without another thought.

“It’s Izzy.” He blurted, and mentally kicked himself. Of course it was Izzy. Who else would it be?

“It’s Fang.” Fang replied, a little cheekily. “How are you feeling, puppy?”

Fang’s voice was so … happy. It sounded like sweet sunshine — higher than you would expect, and creaky like a rocking chair.

Izzy could hear that he was smiling. He put the phone on speaker and laid it against his chest. He closed his eyes.

“Izzy?” 

He could feel the vibrations through his rib cage.

“Filled up on drugs —- the boring kind.” Izzy hastily added. “Fucking … Robitussin AM.”

“Poor thing,” Fang said, and Izzy loved when Fang said that. “You still sound stuffy.”

“It was worse.” Izzy said, and then fell silent.

Well. Okay. Small talk over.

They listened to each other breathe. Even with the allegedly caffeinated cough syrup, Izzy could feel his eyelids drooping.

“How was your day?” Izzy mumbled, just wanting to hear Fang’s voice again.

“Busy. As always. Saw a cute puppy on my walk.”

“Animal or queer?”

“Izzy.” Fang chided, a laugh in his voice.

“Sorry.” Izzy said, without any sincerity. He yawned. “Dog or fruit?”

“Pomeranian. He was black and very important. Angry at the world. Reminded me of someone.”

“Don’t tell Bonnet you said that.”

“You’re funny when you’re loopy.” Fang said, delightedly. “You sure it was just cough syrup.”

“Mm.” 

More breathing. Just for a little while.

“Izzy?” Fang asked, gently. 

“Mmhmm.”

“Call back another day?”

“Mmm …” Izzy said, brow furrowing as he pouted. “Maybe. We could just do a little?” 

“Are you sure? I think maybe you should just rest.”

Izzy swallowed. “I had an idea.”

“Okay.” Fang said, gently. “Shoot.”

“It — might be an awful idea.” The cobwebs of sleep were being swatted away. “You can tell me if it’s awful.”

“Okay. I’ll do that. Go ahead.”

Izzy hesitated. 

It felt like the static of Fang’s breathing stretched on forever. He didn’t hear any movement. For all he knew, Fang was sitting, doing nothing, and waiting for Izzy to answer.

“I’m scared to tell you what I like.” Izzy confessed. “Could I email it to you?”

Fang was quiet.

He hated the idea. He thought Izzy was a freak. He hated Izzy —-

“Okay. Then we could talk about it after. That makes sense.” Fang said, with a note of praise in his voice. “We could take pictures of the sheet and email them to each other. Would that be easiest?”

“Yeah,” Izzy breathed, so relieved. “Yeah, that’d work.”

“Perfect. Then what do you want to do with this call?”

“…you can hang up. I know — I don’t want to waste your time.”

“Izzy,” Fang said. “I was looking forward to it.”

Izzy did his breathing exercises. Let the drowsiness settle in.

“Talk some more?” Izzy asked, barely a whisper. “‘til I’m asleep?”

Greedy. Greedy, awful thing.

“Sure.” Fang said, with that smile Izzy could hear. “Let me tell you about this little doggy. He had the smallest feet I’ve ever seen, and the cutest little nose…”

-

Fang stared at his phone. He had talked Izzy to sleep — it had only taken about 15 minutes — and now he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

For the next half hour, at least, he was free. 

Then came the ambush. 

He got a text. SJ.

You ready for this?

Fang sighed. Thought of Izzy, curled up in bed, lulled to sleep.

He could do this. He wanted to do this.

He texted Jackie back —- heart emoji, fist emoji, sparkle emoji.

Because God loved the gays, Izzy was sick — on the day they would talk to Edward.

-

Eddie didn’t look the same.

His hair was out of its bun, and his face clean shaven. His eyes were red and sunken-in, his skin sallow.

Stede was holding his hand. 

“Hey, Eddie.” Jackie said, quietly.

“Hm — hey!” Ed said, chin jerking up. He plastered a smile on his face. “Sorry, zoning out. Y’know how I am.” 

Ed tried to laugh, eyes darting from Jackie to Fang before turning to Stede.

Stede gave him a pitiful little smile, squeezing his hand.

Oh, jesus. 

Fang felt that same sinking feeling as when he first talked to Stede. In his mind — Ed was a giant made of smoke and knives. Bloodthirsty and laughing. Looking over Izzy, who was crumpled up on the floor.

But across the table was a man who hadn’t slept in ages. His black nails were bitten and ragged. 

“Ed.” Jackie said. “Izzy.”

Ed fought to keep the smile on his face. “Yeah?”

“Were you trying to hurt him?”

Ed flinched. Stede grimaced. 

Ed looked at Stede for a long moment. 

“Just tell them what you told me.” Stede said, softly. “Just pretend it’s me again.”

Ed swallowed hard, closing his eyes. A single tear dripped down his cheek.

It could be a performance. He could be lying. But … Fang didn’t think so.

“He wanted me to.” Ed said, in a rasp. “He asked me to.”

Jackie nodded slowly. 

“This is what you’ve been doing since the beginning. Never tried anything else?”

“We didn’t think there was anything else.” Ed looked at Stede with shining eyes. “S’kind of new to me. The whole ‘niceness’ thing.”

Jackie clicked her red nails against the table, letting Ed catch his breath. Let him work through the sobs that wracked his throat. 

“I believe you.” Jackie said, finally.

Ed crumpled in on himself. “Thank you.”

“But — I gotta fucking know.” Jackie leaned in. “Ben’s been gone for years. Why the hell did you keep this shit up?”

Ed looked at Stede desperately. “Can’t you just tell her? Just tell her what I told you?”

“I’m sorry, my love.” Stede said, genuinely apologetic. “I think she needs to hear it from you.”

“Fuck.” Ed said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fine.”

He grabbed his little plastic cup of water and drained it in one go. 

“Whenever we were — nice, Ben called it pussy shit. Faggot shit. Okay?” Ed said, hands shaky. 

Fang tried very hard to keep his own hands still. 

“So, I — I’m not blaming him, I’m not — but Izzy would say the same thing. So we just … did the same stuff. But it was better,” Ed added, quickly. “It was better, because I didn’t do what Ben did. I didn’t make him live with me, or —“

Ed swallowed, hard. 

“Or any of the other stuff.” Ed said, in a small voice. 

Fang shifted forward, leather jacket creaking.

“When I joined your crew,” Fang began, in a whisper. “I thought you had an understanding. Thought it was a safe place for us to hurt. Be hurt. Have sex, and have fun. And then I hear —“

Fang caught himself. His voice was raising. 

“Then I hear he doesn’t have a fucking safeword?” 

Edward ground his teeth together. 

“We had no idea. None of us. We didn’t know what the fuck we were doing, without Ben.” Ed said. “We just knew we didn’t want to be alone. Fuck.”

Ed gasped for breath, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. Stede handed Ed his little cup. Ed drained that one, too.

“It’s not like it was.” Fang said, stonily. “There’s magazines, books, the fucking internet. Jackie was here the whole fucking time, telling you Ben was bad news. Running a whole damn club.” 

“Your little boyfriend here figured it out pretty quick.” Jackie added.

“I know. Okay? And I’m sorry, I’m so, so fucking sorry.” Ed sobbed. “I thought I knew what he wanted. It’s what he told me he wanted.”

“He wanted you to hold him.” Fang whispered. “Like you used to. That’s what he said to me.”

“Well, he never said that to me!”

A quiet knock on the door.

They all froze, staring. 

Ed sighed, wiping away his tears.

“Who the fuck is that?” Jackie said, brows narrowed.

“Oh, it’s Izzy.” Ed sniffed.

Fang turned to him, slowly. Watched Ed wipe his eyes with Stede’s handkerchief, smoothing his clothes and putting his hair back in place. 

Like he was preening, getting ready for his boyfriend.

“It’s Izzy?” Fang said, slowly, hoping he had misheard.

“Yeah.” Ed sniffed, checking his phone. “I texted him.”

Chapter Text

Izzy looked like he had one foot in the grave. He was wearing a black mask, and black gloves. 

Fang leapt to his feet. He caught Izzy’s arm as he wobbled in the doorway. 

“Hey.” Izzy said, eyes unfocused. “Fuck’re you doing here?”

“Izzy,” Fang said, stricken. “What are you doing here? You should be in bed. You’re sick.”

“He’s sick.” Jackie repeated, throwing up her hands. “Nice one, Teach.”

“He didn’t tell me—!”

“If I hear that phrase one more time, I’m gonna start breaking things. And it comes out of Stede’s renovation budget.” Jackie said.

“What?” Stede squawked. “Why me?” 

“Because I said so.”

“So loud…” Izzy mumbled, his eyelids fluttering shut. 

“Quiet.” Fang said, and the room fell silent. “C’mon. Let’s go sit.”

“Hmm?”

“Just follow me.”

“Hmm.”

Ed and Stede began frantically whispering to each other. Izzy tottered on his feet, collapsing gratefully into the chair.

Jackie cringed away from him. “It’s not the virus, is it?”

“No.” Izzy said, miserably. “Just … so tired.”

Fang made a sad sound.

Izzy turned and nodded to Ed, sitting up straighter. “Hey, boss.”

Ed nodded back.

Izzy stared at him for a few moments, drinking him in. 

“You wanted me here?” Izzy said, and Fang flinched at the delirious hope in his voice. 

“Yeah.” Ed said, with his fake-casual voice. “We’re talking about ‘my future at the club,’ or however Jackie put it.”

Izzy immediately turned to Jackie, a dog on the attack.

“He didn’t do anything wrong.” Izzy said, a little shaky. “You’re the one who said he’s good for fucking business.”

“Izzy.” Fang said, quietly. “That’s not quite true.”

“He did what I asked him. That’s no crime.” 

“He beat the shit out of you.” Jackie hissed.

“Then ban me!” Izzy shouted, his voice hoarse and straining. “ S’my fucking fault!” 

“You’ve really got nothing to say on this one?” Fang said, throwing the question at Ed.

Ed blinked his huge, pretty eyes. He looked to Stede.

“Well, it’s Iz’s choice, isn’t it?” Ed let out a hollow laugh. “Whole fucking shit show came from me thinking I knew what he wanted.”

“What a convenient answer.” Jackie said, smiling like a shark. “What a politician.”  

“Jackie, please.” Stede said, voice strained. 

“Hold on.” Izzy said, rubbing his temple. “Fucking … let me think. Give me a second.”

“Izzy…” Fang pleaded.

“No. Fucking — you were gonna meet him without me.” He stared at Fang with glossy eyes. “All that shit I told you. You were gonna say it without me.”

Fang felt icy water drip down his back. 

“So you’re gonna give me a second —“ Izzy said, pointing to Fang, “— and you’re gonna let me talk.” 

This last part he said while pointing to Jackie. She huffed. 

“You’re a hard man to help, Hands.”

“I’m a big boy, Jackie.” Izzy said, holding onto the table to keep himself up. “I can take care of myself.”

“Is that what you were doing when Ivan gave you stitches?” Jackie volleyed back. “How about when you lost that toe? When you dislocated your shoulder?”

Izzy clutched the ring at his throat, squeezing his eyes shut.  Fang dimly realized he had never noticed it.

“You guys have been talking.” Izzy said, again. “Now I get to talk.”

Jackie fell silent, a furious twist to her mouth. 

“I asked Edward to play with me. I told him he didn’t have to help me clean up. I told him my limits.” Izzy shuddered. “And we didn’t go any farther. So. There.”

He looked back at Fang. His eyes were flat, full of nothing. 

“Can we be done now? ‘Cuz I’m fucking sick of this.”

“Izzy.” Fang said, because he was scared to fuck this up, but that could not be the last word on the matter. “You told me something different.”

Ed shifted in his seat. Izzy snarled under his mask.

“I did not.”

“You did.” Fang said, softly. “About what you wanted. What you really wanted.”

Izzy’s eyes swiveled to Ed’s, rolling like an awful toy. 

“S’that true?” Ed asked, and Fang couldn’t read his voice at all — jealous, or kind, or warning, or — “What’d you say?”

“…I said. I said that…” 

Izzy sighed. The tense line of his shoulders fell. He looked soft and small, staring at his hands.

“I said that I wanted you to touch me,” Izzy whispered. “That this is how I got you to touch me.”

Izzy inhaled sharply, clearing his throat against the tears that were forming.

“And I know that’s fucked up. I know that’s not what you want — from me.” Here, Izzy nodded to Stede. “But I didn’t want you to just leave me.”

Izzy covered his upper face with his hands. Between the black mask over his mouth and his black gloves over his eyes, Fang could almost forget there was a person under there. Someone who liked to sit on his lap, and loved kissed and cuddles. 

Someone who marked his sheets with extra notes, asking can we talk about this?

“You remember what I asked you, Izzy?” Fang pleaded. “And you never answered?”

Izzy shook his head. That could mean no, I don’t remember or no, please, don’t ask me this. Not in front of Ed.

“I asked if you liked being hurt,” Fang wheedled. “Or if you just liked the nice stuff afterwards. And you said…”

And again, Izzy didn’t answer. He kept shaking his head, hands trembling. 

“Iz.” Ed said. “Izzy. Izzy, look at me.” 

“It felt like you were leaving me.” Izzy said, instead, like the words were being ripped out of his throat. “So I kept doing more. Wanted to make you happy. Wanted — huh — to keep you coming around…”

“Oh, Izzy.” Fang sighed.

“It’s my fault.” Izzy gasped. “S’my fault, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault —“

Izzy’s hand flew to his mouth. He staggered to his feet, ripping off his mask. 

Stede barely got there in time, grabbing the waste basket by the door frame and shoving it into Izzy’s chest.

“Oh, baby…” Stede said, rubbing circles onto Izzy’s back. Izzy retched, sobbing and spitting into the trash. “Baby, baby, baby…”

Fang caught Jackie’s eye. She shook her head. She glanced at Edward.

Eddie was frozen. 

Fang lumbered to his feet, water bottle in hand. Izzy poured it over his own head, teeth chattering. Stede squeaked at the splash of water on the floor.

“Stede.” Edward said, in a small voice. “Why’re you calling him that?”

Stede gave him an anguished look.

“I think he likes to be called that, my dear.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Ed said, in a broken voice. “And he doesn’t like being touched —!” 

“I don’t.” Izzy slurred, shaking so hard that the bottle was rattling. He swayed away from Stede’s hand, whimpering. “I’m not — I don’t, daddy, I swear.”

“Oh, fuck.” Edward said, but Fang was already moving, Ed’s voice a hundred miles away. “Oh, fuck, Iz.”

Fang guided Izzy’s arm around his shoulder, taking his weight. He gently ushered him to the couch.

“So, let’s review.” Jackie said, in a voice like steel. “He asked you to do that. Sure. He did. But he knew you wouldn’t say no. Knew you liked to hurt him.”

“People … like that.” Ed said, in a small voice.

“People do. But look me in the fucking eye, Edward Teach.“

The sound of Jackie leaning forward in her chair. Izzy hugged the trash can to his stomach, head back against the cushions.

“Did you ever think Izzy would say no to you? Could say no to you?”

Silence. Jackie cocked her head to the side.

“Let’s say you hit him too hard. Would he ask you to stop?”

Jackie didn’t let him off the hook, waiting for him to answer.

“…no.” Ed whispered. “No, he’d never.” 

“And you knew that.” Jackie nodded. “And he knew that. So. There it is.”

Fang didn’t look at Ed’s face. He was busy looking at Izzy. His forehead was drenched in sweat, with a green pallor to his skin.

“Daddy.” Izzy said, looking at Fang. Tears were dripping down his face. “Daddy, I don’t feel so good. Can we — can we be done?”

“Fuck.” Edward choked out, pushing himself away from the table. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—!”

“Of course we can, baby.” Fang said, pressing a hand to his forehead. “We can be all done…”

Chapter Text

Izzy slept for a week straight.

Well, not exactly, but it felt like it. His cocoon of blankets was only interrupted by Fang delivering groceries, or Stede sending care packages, or Spanish Jackie facetiming him to show off the new renovations.

“You don’t have to do this,” Izzy had rasped, during one of the calls.

Jackie’s face blurred and froze over the unsteady connection. Her voice crackled in and out.

“—-fucking—-basement, shit —- what?” Her face came into focus again. “Do what?”

“Be nice to me.” Izzy murmured. “All of you’se. M’fine.”

There was a long silence.

“I’m gonna ignore that. Anyways, check out this chair lift—!”

So. A week of nothing.

Not exactly a week. Not exactly nothing.

Fang had been emailing him, had shared his sheet, sending electricity and anxiety up and down his spine. He had made a list of discussion topics for the next time they talked, including their shared kinks, tentative interests, and question marks. 

What a nerd. It was color coordinated. Izzy would almost give him shit for it, but…

He let out a shaky exhale, thumbing through the email. 

Questions and things to talk about. Starting light and curious, with the last bullet point making his blood run cold. 

Thank god he had time to prepare. He opened another tab.

He wrote half a word into the search bar. He turned his phone off.

He gritted his teeth. 

Turned it back on again.

Is it bad if 

He deleted that. 

What does it mean if you

He deleted it again. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His fingers shook as he tapped the tiny letters.

Is saying daddy bad during sex?

—-

No, Fang didn’t need the sticky notes or manila folder. He also probably didn’t need his softest sweater, or a bag of snacks, or an extra water bottle.

But it was about making Izzy feel comfortable. Maybe make him laugh a little bit, like he was some sort of BDSM accountant. 

But when Izzy opened the door, he didn’t seem to notice any of Fang’s things. He just stared up into his face with an unreadable expression.

For a second, he thought Izzy might ask him to leave.

“Hello, Izzy.” Fang said, with a soft smile. “It’s good to see you up and about.”

Izzy grunted.  Fang pressed on.

“Can I come in?”

Izzy nodded, stepping back.

Fang had dropped off groceries, but hadn’t seen too much. His apartment was spartan — cold, hard floors. Two pairs of shoes by the door. A cane he had never seen Izzy use. A hook for his keys.

Izzy was barefoot. Fang toed off his shoes, leaving his socks on.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Izzy blurted, like someone had pressed a button on his operating model. “Water, beer …?”

“I’ve got my water bottle with me, but thank you.”

There was an awkward pause.

“…does this feel weird?”

“A little, yeah.”

Izzy let out scoff, almost like a chuckle. Fang grinned, and the pressure released.

“Let’s sit down, alright?”

“Bed, or couch?”

“Someone’s feeling lucky.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Izzy said, actually chuckling this time. Fang beamed. “Couch it is.”

-

Izzy didn’t mean to be so greedy, or so selfish. But Fang’s sweater looked really soft, and he’d had such a hard week, and, and, and …

Fang slung his arms over the back of the couch. He spread his knees slightly, and motioned with his chin.

Thank god.

Izzy crawled into his favorite position — straddling one of Fang’s thighs, his face tucked into the side of Fang’s neck.

His sweater was even softer than it looked. He buried his face into it.

“Hey, boss.” Fang said, softly, as if they hadn’t said hello at the door. 

“‘m sorry.” Izzy mumbled, dry lips scratchy against the sweater. “I always do this. I don’t know why.”

Fang wrapped him in a hug, stroking his back.

“I like it, too. So it’s no biggie, right?”

Izzy shrugged. Maybe if they were both messed up, it was fine.

“Thank you for filling out those forms, and adding those notes and questions. I can tell you worked hard on it. Thank you.”

Izzy squashed the part of him that leapt at such praise. It was just a form. Nothing for him to — feel so giddy about, or so pleased at Fang’s approval. 

He focused on Fang’s voice, the rumbling vibrations through his chest. His big hand, stroking his spine. 

“I made a list of things to talk about, and questions. Did you get that email?”

“Yeah.” Izzy twisted his fingers into Fang’s sweater. “I didn’t know — if you wanted to start big, or small. Because I keep thinking about the big questions. And it’s freaking me the fuck out.”

“I get that.” Fang said. “We can start wherever you want.”

Izzy squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering against Fang’s neck. 

“Sometimes it’s good to start with the scariest thing, so you don’t have to stress about it any longer. Or we could ease into it…”

Izzy nodded mindlessly. He sort of — tuned out for a moment, soaking up the warmth and attention. 

“Boss?” Fang said, a million miles away . “You okay?”

He placed a hand on Izzy’s hip.

He’d been humping Fang’s thigh. 

Izzy scrambled back, heart pounding. He pressed himself into the opposite arm of the couch.

“It’s okay.” Fang said, holding up his hands. “Hey, it’s alright—“

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was doing that.” Izzy gasped, the words all coming out at once. He grabbed a pillow and squeezed it. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Izzy. Deep breaths for me.” Fang said, his voice a little sad. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Izzy squeezed the pillow again, clenching his jaw. Stupid, fucked up, nasty little freak.

“It’s okay.” Fang said, again, and the dam Izzy’d been holding onto broke loose.

“I need to tell you,” Izzy said, shakily. “I need to tell you. But I don’t know if I’m going to say it right.”

“Alright.” Fang said, softly.

“It’s — I’m fucked up. But you know that. But what I’m about to say — it’s really bad. And if you want me to shut up, I get it.”

“Izzy,” Fang said, anxiously. 

“No, I mean…” Izzy dropped his forehead into the pillow. “If you need me to. If you don’t want to talk about this. We can — we can use the words. Right?”

“Yes,” Fang said, with a little relief in his voice. Maybe a bit of pride—? “Yes, I’ll use my word, if I need to. And you can, too.”

“Okay.” Izzy swallowed hard. “Okay. Um. Hornigold made me call him —-“

daddy

“—-made me say shit. All of us. Y’know, things he’d like to hear. Wouldn’t let up ‘til he heard them.”

Izzy was speaking into the pillow, not looking at Fang. Fang didn’t interrupt with words, but made a sound to show he was hearing, knowing Izzy couldn’t see it if he nodded.

Izzy bit the pillow for a second, overwhelmed by the anxiety, and disgust, and the rush of fondness he had for Fang in this moment.

He could say it. Fang was listening. Fang would help him say it right.

“So — so when we do forms like these — there are ‘no’s because he did things that…”

Izzy shuddered. He swallowed back the bile. He couldn’t finish.

“…that hurt you.” Fang supplied calmly, without pity or coddling. “That scared you.”

Izzy nodded.

“But you said — that we wouldn’t … do things, to each other, but with each other. So it made me wonder — if it’s actually a ‘no,’ or if it was him.”

Okay. He could do this. He could say it. He had to fucking say it.

He took a shaky breath. He took the pillow away from his face, squeezing it to his stomach. He dug his fingers into his arms. 

He kept his eyes squeezed shut. Just — just one show of weakness. One defense mechanism.

“Sometimes, I want to say ‘daddy.” Izzy said.

But that wasn’t quite right.

“Sometimes.” Izzy swallowed. “I want to call you ‘daddy.”

There. 

Now that the poison was out, Izzy couldn’t stop. Had to fill the silence of Fang not responding. Had to explain.

“And I know it’s fucked up, I know. But sometimes — sometimes it makes me feel good. To say that.”

Izzy exhaled, shakily. 

Fang was breathing slowly and steadily. Izzy tried to match him.

“I don’t think that’s fucked up.” Fang said.

Izzy cracked open an eye. 

“You can if you want.” Izzy said, in a creaky voice. “I fucking do.”

“I don’t think so.” Fang said, firmly. “You can call me that if you like.”

Izzy almost laughed.

All of … that. For such a simple answer. Almost felt like an anti-climax.

Fang matched his little smile. 

“Have a sip of water.” Fang said.

Izzy took a sip of water.

“I have a few questions about this, but I know that was a lot.” Fang said. “What do you think?”

“You can ask.” Izzy said. He was almost … eager, or anxious to get it all out. Put all the cards on the table.

Maybe he was hoping to scare Fang away.

Or maybe, maybe if he said it all, and answered all the questions, and Fang liked it too, and it all worked out —-

Maybe Fang could give him what he wanted.

Izzy’s heart thudded in his throat.

“I wouldn’t want to order you to call me that. And that doesn’t sound like something you’d want either. Right?”

Izzy nodded. 

“Right. Okay.” Fang nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes, there’s a little bit of a call and response. Something you’d like me to call you, in response to you calling me…”

“Daddy.” Izzy breathed.

Fang smiled. 

“Exactly. I know you like ‘good boy.” 

Izzy nodded. 

“Is there anything else you’d might like?”

“Fuck,” Izzy said, because here was another bundle of thorns. “I. Fuck. I, uh, put a question mark by the gender stuff. For the same reason.”

He looked at Fang with pleading eyes, hoping he would magically understand, and that Izzy wouldn’t have to say it out loud. 

Fang nodded slowly.

Fuck.

“How — sometimes, he’d say it to be mean? But sometimes, it feels good?” Izzy said, hoping he was leading Fang the right way. “Fuck. Can I just write it down?”

Fang beamed, a sudden burst of sunshine. “That’s a great idea. Of course you can.”

“Fuck.” 

Izzy grabbed one of the many pens Fang placed on the coffee table, scrawling out two words. 

He passed it to Fang.

Fang’s lips parted. He nodded.

“I understand.” Fang said. “Sometimes, with gender play — a common rule can be that I might say something like this, but always use your correct pronouns.”

“Fucking — saying ‘he’s a —‘“

Izzy couldn’t finish. His cheeks went red. 

“‘He’s my good girl.’” Fang said.

Izzy shuddered, and his his face again.

“Does that sound nice?”

Izzy nodded. 

“So — back to the call and response idea. I would never order you to call me anything. But if you say that word, would you want me to refer to myself as ‘daddy?’ And maybe call you a ‘good girl?’”

Izzy nodded again. 

“Wonderful.” Fang said. “Izzy, I am so happy you told me. That you trusted me.”

“You don’t have to say that every time.” Izzy mumbled, blushing some more.

“Well, I mean it. So there.”

Izzy squeezed the pillow again, crossing his legs so he wouldn’t squirm with happiness. 

—-

Fang watched him fondly. A little sadly.

“Have another sip of water.” Fang said, and watched Izzy reach for it, take it, swallow it.

It was heady — that much power. Fang could use it to humiliate, or hurt, or break. It was dizzying. 

“Good job.” Fang said, and Izzy swallowed hard. “I’m going to ask you a difficult question. You don’t have to answer it. And you can always ask me something, if you’d rather change the subject. Okay?”

“Okay.” Izzy mumbled. 

It almost seemed like — Izzy was always in a drop. A little bit under. Half awake, and searching for someone’s hand. Either that, or he was taut to the point of breaking, exhausted and furious. 

Fang wanted to change that. He wanted to make a new man. People thought he was compassionate, but maybe he was just selfish — seeing how powerful he truly was. Seeing if he could make the tiger curl up in his lap.

“Do you know why it feels good to say that?” Fang asked, gingerly. “If I know what you get out of it, I can make it better for you.”

To his credit, Izzy considered the question deeply. He stared off into the middle distance, jaw clenched.

“Some people like that because it’s humiliating. Some people like to be a brat.” Fang explained. “So I would be meaner, or make you say it a lot.”

“Not like that.” Izzy managed. “More like …”

He had marked a question in age play. A green for cuddling. Three plus marks for being physically moved. Four for being restrained, with a note saying he didn’t want to be hurt.

“Being small?” Fang said, as though he hadn’t been thinking about it the entire time.

He watched the epiphany hit Izzy. His lips parted. His eyes softened. 

This was the rush Fang chased. Knowing someone. Giving them exactly what they wanted. What they never even dreamed of having.

“Being small.” Izzy repeated, in a hoarse whisper. “Warm. Fucking … taken care of. I guess.” 

Izzy ran a hand across his eyes, ducking his head in shame. 

“I can do that.” Fang said, and then corrected himself. “I want to do that. I want to do that with you, Izzy.”

Izzy cleared his throat, scrubbing his hand through his goatee. Once he had his composure, he gave Fang a piercing look.

“Can I ask you something?” Izzy said, as though it was a challenge.

“Go ahead, boss.”

“What is …” Izzy went red. Cleared his throat. Tried again. “What’s pet play? Or — the way you do it? Why do you like it?”

“That’s three questions.” Fang teased, delighting in how pink Izzy’s cheeks were, how he immediately balked at the chide. “But since you’ve been so good … let me think.”

Fang scratched his beard, considering it. 

“Pet play can mean a lot of different things. It can be as simple as calling someone a ‘pup,’ or giving them a little nuzzle. You’re probably imagining the hood, muzzle, leash …?”

Izzy turned even pinker. He nodded.

“It can be like that.” Fang let himself imagine Izzy in the full kit — a silver chain, pup hood and mitts, entirely naked and crawling at his side.

It was an appetizing thought. He let it linger for a moment, then bid it farewell. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” Fang said. “Could just be sitting in my lap and giving you a pat. Sometimes — it slips out, calling you ‘pup.’ I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not.” Izzy said, immediately, and then scowled at his own eagerness. “I like it just fine.”

“Good.” Fang smiled. “As for what I like about it … being in charge. Watching someone relax, and feel safe with me. Seeing how they really like to move or play, or what sounds they like to make.”

Izzy shook his head slowly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“People think they have to act a certain way. It’s exhausting for them. Sometimes you can let loose, in a pet space. You know that your handler will take care of it.”

“Why are you so nice?” Izzy blurted. 

Fang grinned. “I can be mean.”

“But, it’s like —“ 

Izzy groaned, tossing the pillow aside as he tried to find the words.

“How do you get off?” Izzy asked, bluntly. “I get it when someone’s beating the shit out of you. Get off on causing pain, being powerful — I get that. But you’re just — your kink is being responsible?”

Fang laughed. Sort of.

Because it was funny, but if Fang thought about it too much, he’d probably start crying. Or break something. 

“People like different things.” Fang said, lightly, trying not to betray the storm brewing in his belly. “I can’t imagine just —“

Hurting someone, for the shit of it. Leaving them tied up. Leaving them bleeding. Not even saying goodbye.

Fang broke off. Swallowed.

Izzy liked being small. Taken care of. Warm. Izzy thought the only thing other people enjoyed was —-

So he fucking took it and just hoped —-?

Breathe in through your nose. Out through your mouth. In for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight.

Fang took a drink of water. Izzy watched him, worry curling in his spine.

“Everything is fucked up.” Fang said, voice a little shaky. “People hurt my friends. Out there. People are cruel, and people are hurting.”

In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.

“But when I’m with someone…” Fang took another sip of water. “I can pretend I’m fixing it. Helping them. And we can be happy together, and safe together.”

Fang squeezed his eyes shut.

“There’s an awful little bit of me that just wants to be powerful. In charge of another person — or like a god, you know? And that’s the worst part of me, and I try never to do that.”

Fang let out a shaky exhale. Not quite ‘out for eight,’ but close enough. 

“When someone’s in my lap, they feel warm, and safe, and happy.” Fang said, quietly. “And it makes me feel the same way.” 

“…you really are a good guy, aren’t you?” 

Fang opened his mouth to protest, but Izzy was already moving. 

He tapped Fang’s knee for permission.

Fang granted it, throwing the folder on the coffee table, wrapping his arms around Izzy as soon as he was in his lap. 

Warm. Safe. Secure.

“There’s my good boy…”

Chapter Text

How lucky. How incredible. How amazing that Izzy wanted to be held, and Fang wanted to hold him.

“You’re so good.” Fang whispered, bouncing Izzy on his knee. “So cute. So sweet. Can I call you my little puppy?”

Izzy nodded, sighing into Fang’s neck.

That was another stroke of luck — that Fang wanted a new puppy, and Izzy wanted to be a little thing. They called it different things, but —

In the end, Izzy was in Fang’s lap, cuddled up to his gorgeous chest. He could hump Fang’s leg. Fang was okay with it.

Fang wasn’t laughing at him.

“Oh, puppy.” Fang cooed. “Look at my good boy. Will you tell me what you need, gorgeous?”

Izzy kept humping, whining into his neck. Fang kissed his cheek. 

“Or,” Fang whispered, right against Izzy’s ear. “Do you want daddy to decide?”

Izzy tensed, gripping Fang fiercely. Then he released, moaning and nodding.

“Good boy. I think my puppy needs an orgasm, then a bath, and then a nice cuddle in bed. What do you think?”

Izzy whimpered, rolling his hips harder. He seemed to have two speeds: one a self-soothing movement, and the other a dirty drag.

“That sound nice? Hmm?”

Izzy nodded, eyes drifting shut. 

“Do you want to tell me how to touch you? Or do you want daddy in charge of everything?”

“Everything,” Izzy mumbled. “I trust you.”

Izzy forced those words out, even though they were mumbled into Fang’s shoulders. He thought Fang might like to hear it. And … 

And it was true. He trusted Fang.

Fang’s next breath was a shudder. He squeezed Izzy tight, and kissed his hair. 

He held Izzy for a moment, breathing in his soap and shampoo.

Then Fang turned Izzy around so his back was to Fang’s belly, Izzy’s ass on his crotch. Izzy whined and struggled, upset at being moved away.

“It’s alright,” Fang sighed, a warm breath by Izzy’s ear. “Daddy’s got you.” 

He did. Daddy did. Daddy —

“It’s okay.” Daddy whispered. “Let go.”

Izzy —

Izzy did.

—

Fang felt the moment Izzy stopped thinking, and started feeling. Felt him drop and moan, squeezing Fang’s forearms as he untied Izzy’s sweatpants.

He was trying to hump up into Fang’s touch, trying to grab his big hands and hold them against his pussy. 

He could tell Izzy to stop, but this was much more fun. It was fun to bat his hands away and wrestle him into his lap, tugging him this way and that, tasting the sweat on the back of his neck.

“Needy little thing.” Fang growled. “You’ll take what I give you, and not a bit more.”

Izzy squealed when Fang ripped his underwear and sweatpants downwards. He lifted his knees, wiggling them down his legs before he kicked them to the floor. 

His ankles looked slender and sweet. His knees knocked together. He trembled. 

Like a cute little prey animal.

He grabbed behind Izzy’s knee, tugging it up — not enough to hurt, but enough to stretch. And with his other hand —

Well. He put it where Izzy was wettest.

Izzy shrieked, arching and struggling, rutting without any grace.

“I’ll give you one chance to settle,” Fang warned. “Or else you get a spanking.”

“Yes—!” Izzy gasped, unable to help himself. He kept wiggling, squirming, humping. “Please, daddy!”

Fang repeated what he’d seen Izzy do — wetting his fingers with Izzy’s pussy, and then violently rubbing his clit. He scrubbed at it until Izzy was yowling and arching away, grabbing Fang’s wrist.

“I gave you a chance…”

“No, daddy!” Izzy wailed. “No, too much, too much, no, no, no —“

“Hold your legs.”

Izzy hooked his hands under his knees, spreading himself up and out. 

Gave Fang the perfect angle to torture his cunt.

He spanked Izzy’s pussy. Izzy squealed. 

“No, daddy…” Izzy said, voice broken with ecstasy. Another spank. “Oh! No, no, no…!”

Izzy’s lower lips jiggled and wobbled with each slap. His arousal made his pubic hair dark and wet, sticking to his skin. It was mesmerizing to watch — how pink and pretty he was, how wet and welcoming.

Should Fang shave him? Or maybe a hot wax, with plenty of oil, and Izzy holding open his ass cheeks so Fang could get him all over…

A waxing and a spanking. How cruel. 

Fang cupped his hand on the next slap. It made a sickening slurping noise, Izzy’s arousal audible.

“There‘s my pretty pussy.” Fang snarled, gripping and pulling Izzy’s swollen lips. “There’s my good bitch.”

“Daddy...!” Izzy wailed. “Fuck me!”

“Oh, you awful thing. Nasty little thing.”

Another slap. Fang pulled his wet hand away from Izzy’s pussy, shoving it down his own pants, gripping his cock. 

Izzy whimpered, feet flexed.

“Fuck yourself.” 

Izzy dropped his legs, which ruined Fang’s view. The deafening schluck-schluck-schluck of Izzy’s fingers made up for it. He had immediately shoved two into his snatch, clawing inside himself and bucking his hips.

“Nasty cunt,” Fang growled, furiously jacking off. “Can’t even punish it. Gets off even on a spanking.”

Izzy whined.

“What shall I do with you, hmm? Tie that thing shut? Pinch that little clitty, until it behaves? Nasty bitch, rutting all over daddy. Bad girl.”

“ — uhh — hnn — mm —!”

“You gonna come on daddy’s lap? You gonna squirt for me, baby girl?”

Fang slapped his other hand down on top of Izzy’s, making him jolt in surprise. Fang pushed down on the back of his hand, yanking on his wrist, making Izzy fuck himself harder. 

“Please fuck me,” Izzy sobbed. “Oh, fuck me. Harder, more, yes, yes —“

Fang let go of his cock, and lifted Izzy up. He pulled him upwards, upwards, until he was hot-dogging Izzy’s pussy lips.

His cock was three inches, if he was being generous, and totally enveloped by Izzy’s lower lips. One wrong thrust, and he’d be all the way inside. Izzy’s wet heat was dripping down onto his balls. 

Izzy squealed, and started humping his little cock.

“Ohhh, fuck.” Fang groaned. “That’s it. Good little puss-puss. Get daddy all wet for you. Doesn’t it feel good?”

He gathered Izzy in his arms again, squeezing him tight.

“Does it feel good, Izzy?” 

“Yes,” Izzy sobbed, pinching and jerking his clit. “It feels good. It feels so, so good.”

“Come for me.”

Izzy jabbed the head of Fang’s cock against his clit. 

“Fuck—!”

Fang felt a hot, wet rush against his cock. He let out a startled moan when Izzy reached for his cock, smearing his thumb against the pre-come on the top of his dick.

“Daddy…” Izzy sighed, still twitching through his orgasm. 

Oh, fuck.

Fang came with a rather embarrassing noise, thrusting upwards into Izzy’s hand. It was wet, and messy, and slick and perfect. He came in three solid jerks, painting the back of Izzy’s hand with stripes of white. 

They were both dripping with sweat, panting in the afterglow.

Izzy collapsed against Fang’s chest. Fang let out a little groan.

Izzy chuckled, a little delirious. “You sure you’re up for that bath, old man?”

“Gimme — gimme a second.” Fang wheezed.

Chapter Text

Izzy didn’t actually have a bath tub, which was disappointing. He had a tiny shower that only fit one person, which made Fsng even grumpier.

Fang had wanted to scrub Izzy all over, and pour water over his hair while shielding his eyes. He wanted to suds him and coo at him, and give him lots of warm kissies. 

Oh, well. 

Ever the gentleman, he let Izzy shower first, and decided to find some snacks. 

Izzy was so gaunt, was the thing — ribs visible and eyes sunken, his skin pale. 

Fang loved to spoil his puppies, and give them treats. He made a list of Izzy’s allergies and sensitivities, but cursed himself for not asking about his favorite foods. 

He snooped in the fridge, and found … nothing.

Well. A reusable bottle of water. A loaf of bread. A bag of lemons. 

He checked the cabinets. A jar of peanut butter, and cheap packs of instant coffee. 

Fang felt sicker and sicker as he double-checked, hoping to be wrong.

No such luck.

Fang headed back upstairs. 

And not a moment too soon — Izzy just switched off the tap, and Fang could hear him roughly ripping the towel over his skin. 

Fang made a soft noise, and knocked on the door. 

“May I?” Fang asked.

“Do what?” Izzy said, through the door. 

“Help you dry off.”

There was a long moment of quiet. Fang rested his forehead against the door. He wanted to remind Izzy that he could say ‘no,’ but he didn’t want to coddle or annoy …

He heard some rustling. Then the door clicked open. 

Izzy had put on a clean pair of boxers, and a loose t-shirt. He shifted from foot to foot, handing over the towel while looking at the floor.  

It was old. Threadbare. Kind of scratchy. 

Fang started with Izzy’s face, gently patting it dry. Then his neck. Then his arms.

“Why?” Izzy whispered. 

“Because I want to.” Fang said. “You’re so rough with yourself. I just want to …”

He knelt on the bath mat. He patted Izzy’s thighs with the towel, then his knees, then his shins. Izzy rested his hand on Fang’s shoulder for balance when Fang came to his feet. He lifted one foot, then the other.

“There,” Fang said. “All dry.”

Fang pressed his face to Izzy’s tummy, breathing in the clean shirt. He felt Izzy take in a soft breath.

Then felt Izzy’s hands on the back of his shoulders. A gentle press — 

Pulling him closer. 

Then Izzy stepped back, blushing furiously. He busied himself with finding an extra towel. 

“You’re up,” Izzy said, head in the cabinet. “You can use my shower chair. Or toss it to the side. Or whatever.”

He threw the extra towel at Fang’s head. He caught it with one hand, smiling.

“Can I ask you to do one more thing?” Fang said.

Izzy shrugged. Fang wasn’t sure of his headspace. He didn’t look aroused and hot, or low and floaty. Fang kept his tone open and genuine, unlike an order or a voice in a scene. 

“Get yourself a snack — I have some in my bag, it’s just in the hallway —  and get all cuddled up in bed for me. As warm and snuggly as you can. Okay?”

“But,” Izzy said. 

“But?” Fang prompted. He watched a dozen emotions flit over Izzy’s face. “We don’t have to talk about it now, if you don’t want to. I’ll remember you have something to ask. Does that sound okay?”

“…okay.” 

“Good. I’ll just be a moment.”

-

Fucking stairs. He’d head downstairs for a snack, but —

Fuck it. Fang said he could pilfer his bag. Why not?

He ate three sleeves of peanut butter crackers. That wasn’t the original plan, but he suddenly found himself ravenous. He chugged half a bottle of water, too, hoping it didn’t hit his stomach strangely. 

He stared at his bed.

Fang had said, an orgasm, a bath, and off to bed. So. Was it still an order? Part of the scene? Something that was a kink for Fang, or just something he felt like doing?

Izzy poked at the tangled nest of worry in his head. That’s what it always fucking came down to — does Fang really like this? Does he really want to do this? What if Izzy got into his own fucking bed wrong?

“Fuck this,” Izzy mumbled, and crawled into bed. He had one incredibly stiff pillow with some weird cooling foam inside of it, and two soft, limp pillows — one for between his knees, and one to squeeze with his arms.

All cuddled up for me. As warm and snuggly as you can.

Fuck it. Okay. 

He got under the blanket. He kicked the blankets so they flipped under his feet. He pulled a pillow inside the cocoon. He shoved it between his knees and waited. 

After a second, he snuck a hand out into the cold to grab the other pillow. He hugged it to his chest.

He was still horny.

He had tried to — rock on the heel of his hand in the shower. It didn’t work. It never worked, by himself — not unless he had an hour and a half and a whole lot of persistence. 

He wiggled a bit, but his body was too tired. But he still throbbed.

They weren’t really going to sleep, right?

The shower switched off. Izzy heard whistling. A towel. A bottle of lotion clicking open and being squeezed.

Fang was naked, on the other side of the door.

Izzy squeezed his eyes shut.

Fang opened the door to his bedroom, and Izzy didn’t look — just in case he was going to get changed. Besides, he was facing the far wall, and it would be obvious if he turned over.

“Izzy? You in here?”

Oh. He really was all cuddled up. Izzy poked the top of his head out of the covers, immediately bristling at the cold.

Fang made a strangled noise — kind of like a squeal? — and ambled over.

“Snug as a bug in a rug!” Fang cooed, patting the covers. “Can I sneak in?”

Izzy nodded, squirming a little. Fang slipped under the covers, and pulled Izzy’s back against his chest, spooning him.

Fang was in loose athletic shorts, and —

And he was shirtless. 

Izzy whimpered. So much … so warm, and soft, and so big, like a shield wrapped all around him.

Fang gave him a noisy kiss on the head.

“You had a snack?”

Izzy nodded.

“A bit of water?”

Another nod.

“Good boy. Who’s my good boy?”

“…me.” Izzy muttered.

Fang laughed, a big, shaking thing that echoed through Izzy’s frame.

“Wasn’t expecting you to answer!”

“Sorry.” Izzy said, mortified.

“No! It’s cute!” Fang slipped a hand onto Izzy’s tummy. “You’re so fucking cute. My sweet thing…”

Izzy squirmed, frustrated and confused.

“So. Can I ask what the ‘but’ was? Earlier?” Fang said, softly.

Izzy swallowed hard, not knowing how to phrase it. 

“Is this … right now, is this still …” 

Izzy made an encompassing gesture. 

“It was part of what you said you wanted me to do. During our, um, scene. Was that a scene?”

“Mm.” Fang said, an affirmative, warm rumble.

“So is this — part of the scene, still?” Izzy licked his lips, and asked the question he actually wanted to ask. “Are we still having sex? Right now?”

Fang stroked his tummy slowly. It kind of tickled, but mostly it was … distracting. Arousing.

“What do you think?” Fang asked, a nice vibration against his back.

“Well, I — you already —“ 

Izzy made another motion. Kind of lewd.

“Right.”

“So, that means we’re done, yeah?”

Fang went quiet, still stroking Izzy’s tummy. Izzy tried not to squirm — Fang was obviously just thinking, and stroking him unconsciously, but Izzy wanted it lower, lower —

“A little while ago, you told me it was hard for you to masturbate.” Fang said, thoughtfully. “That you didn’t usually orgasm during a scene.”

“Yeah.” Izzy said, an explosive sigh. “Usually — when the guy comes, it’s over. Yeah? Which is fine.” Izzy added, hastily.

“Oh, no.” Fang purred. “No, no, no. Oh, Izzy.”

“I — got there. I’m good. And we’re not in our fucking twenties, I’m not expecting you to —“

“Izzy.” Fang said. “Hush.”

Izzy’s mouth snapped shut.

He wasn’t tired at all, any more. His body was throbbing, tense to the point of shaking. Not in a bad way, though — more like — anticipation —?

He was greedy. Selfish. He wanted more.

Fang was still stroking him.

“You’re right. I can’t get it up again. Gonna have to wait ‘til tomorrow for that.” Fang said, cheekily. “But you …”

He dipped down to kiss Izzy’s neck. 

“When you told me how long it took,” Fand murmured, right by his ear. “All I could think about was how many times I’d make you come. An hour, was it? To get yourself off?”

“Suh—uh—sometimes more.” Izzy gasped. Fuck, fuck, his voice, his big, warm hand…

“Sometimes more.” Fang repeated, sagely. “What’s your limit, hmm? Two, three, four …?”

“I’ve never —“ Izzy said, voice hitching. “Never…”

Because that was unthinkable. Ridiculous. Other people did that, and could do that, but —

That was for other people. Not him. Never him. 

Fang’s hand dipped a tiny bit lower, this pinky finger scraping the waistband of Izzy’s boxers.

“Never?” Fang asked. “Even in one day?”

“Nuh — no…”

“No…?” 

Izzy wanted it. 

He took the leap.

“No, daddy…”

-

Fang’s heart was beating out of his chest.

He fought to keep himself steady — cool and calm for Izzy to cling to, for him to trust and be safe with.

But god, he wanted to fucking bury himself inside of him.

His cock twitched, weakly. Sorry, boy-o.

Fang kissed Izzy’s neck, again. It was quickly becoming his favorite thing to do — the hair there was soft and fine and glinted silver. Izzy shivered every time, tilting his jaw to invite Fang in. 

“Poor pussy-pussy…” Fang murmured, dragging his hand along Izzy’s lower stomach. Another favorite — the softest part of him, swelling over his waistband. A perfect place for rubs and kisses. “Poor thing needs to come.” 

Izzy shuddered, back arching. The pillow between his legs was lumpy from squeezing.

“Shall I give you a little rubbing, my sweet? A good little gush, to help you sleep?”

Izzy nodded, thighs rubbing together. 

“Alright, my dear. But we’ll have to be very gentle. You had quite the spanking, earlier.”

Izzy mewled when Fang’s fingers dipped into his boxers. He scratched Izzy’s pubic hair, tickling his way down. Fang flattened four fingers against his clit, and Izzy’s hips started rolling.

“Shh, shh. Easy, darling. Not too fast.” Fang said, a little amused. “Daddy knows best, doesn’t he? Nice and slow and smooth. There we go. There’s my good boy. I just got you all clean again — we don’t want you to work up a sweat …”

Of course, it was a bit of a trap. Fang held his hand perfectly still. Izzy would need to fuck himself in order to come. 

There were other ways Fang could help, though.

“Daddy’s taking care of it.” Fang cooed. “Daddy has you. I’ll clean you up. I’ll lick it up. God, I can’t wait to eat you out. I’ll have you gushing. Three orgasms at least, all against my tongue. I’ll lick it all up, and no one would know. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Izzy sobbed, awfully wet and needy against Fang’s hand. He already felt slippery, pulse drumming in his clit against Fang’s fingertips.

“I love that — overstimulation. Holding you down, and taking. Do you need a proper ravishing, love?”

Izzy whined louder, arching even more. The small of his back left Fang’s tummy, but his bony little ass pressed up.

“There’s my good bitch. Presenting for me. Three or four, at least. Oh, and poor little puppies usually gush, when they’re that worked up. What do you think?”

Fang snuggled closer, licking the shell of Izzy’s ear.

“Could I get you pissing on my face?”

“No —!”

“No, no. Too embarrassing, hm?” Fang wrapped his other arm around Izzy’s middle. He was bucking away, now — sucking on his knuckles and keening. “But that’s what I like best. Getting you all embarrassed. Making you piss yourself when you don’t want to. You don’t want to come so many times, do you? Doesn’t it start to hurt?”

Fang abruptly cupped Izzy’s pussy in a punishing grip.

“Too bad.”

“Mm!”

“You’re my little pussy. And I’ll get whatever I want from you, won’t I?”

Izzy writhed against his grip. What a cutie!

“You can say ‘no.’ You can say ‘stop.’ I know you like to fight it — I’ll keep going unless you say your special word…”

“No, daddy —!” Izzy wailed, as though he had been waiting the entire time to have permission. “No, no, no!”

“Silly puppy. Daddy knows best. Daddy knows what you need. Fuck yourself, baby. Ride my fucking hand. You know how, you awful little thing.” 

It was almost more fun, to not be erect during this. He could give Izzy his full attention — see what words really made him jerk and moan. Humiliation, Izzy loved. Swearing, too. What else…

“Little slut,” Fang whispered, and Izzy jerked even more, pulling up his knees and driving his whole weight into Fang’s hand. “Oh, I’m going to break you.”

Izzy came silently, his hand pressed against his mouth. He jerked like a doll on short strings, hot and wet in Fang’s palm.

“Good girl,” Fang cooed, working him through it. “Daddy’s so proud of you. Oh, look at you, you pretty thing…”

Fang kept cooing and chirping as Izzy came down — little fragments of nonsense as Izzy’s movements slowed. He gave a few more hesitant humps, his thighs twitching with aftershocks. 

Izzy took his hand away from his mouth, gasping for breath.

Fang carefully scooped as much spend as he could from Izzy’s pussy, curling his fingers and slowly extricating it from Izzy’s boxers. 

Fang slurped most of it up — rapidly cooling, sour, and slippery.

Izzy whined. Fang gave him his fingers to suck on, listening to his happy little warbles.

“Now, to bed.” Fang whispered. “Go to sleep, little kitten. I’ll be right here.”

Izzy snuffled gratefully, kissing Fang’s palm. 

They were both asleep in minutes.

Chapter Text

Izzy meant to wake up before Fang. He really did. 

But it was so warm and snuggly, and it had been a long time since he’d just … had a lay about. A long time since he had slept so well.

( “A little gush, to help you sleep?”)

Fang had cuddled closer during the night. He was all wrapped around Izzy, squeezing the two of them into a little swirl. Izzy could almost pretend he didn’t even exist any more — just a tiny thing that Fang was holding, only meant to be carried around…

So. He was awake. He just hadn’t woken up. Alright?

“Mm…” 

Fang made a noise like a big engine thrumming to life. He yawned, and stretched his back, and cracked his jaw, and smacked his lips together a few times.

(Izzy still hadn’t woken up. He didn’t want it to end.)

“Izzy?” Fang whispered. “Izzy, baby?”

With great reluctance, Izzy wiggled his toes.

“Good morning, my sweet.” Fang said, with a voice like a sunrise: still some rough sleepiness in there, but the bright notes of his smile. “My beauty. My darling.”

Izzy whimpered. It wasn’t fair, that he could say such things and have him careening down a cliff, in total free-fall.

“G’morning. Twat.” 

Fang chuckled, wiggling his hands under Izzy’s shirt. He patted Izzy’s tummy.

“I do have to run.” Fang said, with a sad note in his voice. “But can I see you again soon? Give you some homework until then?”

Izzy squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them water. 

“Izzy.” Fang said, softly.

“I’m fucked up.” Izzy said. “I go in — really hard, really fast. I don’t even fucking know you, but I want —“

Izzy broke off, clutching Fang’s forearm. 

His hand was still on the soft swell of his tummy. Izzy sobbed, feeling useless and helpless again. 

“We don’t know each other very well.” Fang admitted. “But you know I’m soft for you. And I know you’re a good boy for me.” 

Fang kissed his cheek, rocking him slightly. 

“That’s more than enough to go on, right?”

Izzy shrugged.

“What’s making you scared?”

“H-how much I want.” Izzy said. 

He swallowed, hard. Fang deserved the truth — deserved the chance to cut and run while he still could.

“I want this — you — this — every morning. Every day.” Izzy rubbed his eyes. “It feels so good. I’m scared. Fang, I’m so fucking scared.”

“Izzy. Look at me.”

Izzy shook his head. 

“Look at me.”

Fang gripped his shoulder. Izzy rolled to his other side. Fang was so close — he could feel his warm breath, and count every single eyelash, every freckle, every mole.

Fang didn’t have to reach very far to take Izzy’s jaw in one big hand. He pulled him into a kiss. 

Oh. Oh, how Fang claimed him, with his warm tongue. Izzy held his mouth open like a kitten accepting a bottle, eyes closed and twitching in satisfaction. 

Izzy didn’t have to worry about his head, or his face, or his tongue. Fang had him in a firm grip, moving him how he wanted, tongue searching as he liked. 

He pulled away, and the morning sun warmed Izzy’s face.

“You can have it.” Fang whispered. “You can have me.”

Izzy clung to him. 

“…after work, of course.” Fang said, with a wry smile. “Izzy…”

Izzy thunked his head against Fang’s chest with a pitiful whine. 

“The commute is such shit. But I’ll be back before you know it!”

Fang scratched under Izzy’s chin, tutting at his miserable expression. 

“I’ll be right back. Okay?”

Izzy nodded.

“Do you want me to give you homework now, or email later?”

Izzy was greedy for even a few more seconds.

“Now, please…”

“So polite.” Fang wiggled his head back and forth with the grip on his chin. “Good boy. I’m going to ask you to do something that might be hard. It might take a few days, and that’s okay.”

Izzy made a harrumphing noise. Fang was leaving and giving him hard things to do?

“I want you to look at something filthy.” Fang said, with a sweet smile. Izzy choked on nothing. “You can read it, or watch it. You can send it to me, or not. Either way is fine.”

“You — you want me to —…” 

Izzy Hands, former submissive to Benjamin Hornigold and Edward Teach, blushed all the up his ears and down his chest.

“Why?” Izzy said, a strangled squeak.

“I want you to know more about what you like.” Fang said, cheerfully. “What you can ask for. What we can talk about, together. I want you to try and pleasure yourself.” Fang’s smile turned a little sad. “I know that might not work. It’s okay.”

Izzy ducked his chin, slightly mollified by Fang’s sympathetic petting. 

“There’s a whole wide world out there. I want you to feel more sure on your feet.” Fang kissed his nose. “Okay?”

“…You’d want me to send it to you?”

“You don’t have to.”

“But if I did —“ Izzy squirmed. “What would you want to see?”

Fang smiled. “Only the ones you really like. Okay?”

“…read it? You can read this shit?”

“Oh, puppy.”

Fang started belly laughing, patting his tummy fondly. 

-

That afternoon, Izzy made the worst decision of his life.

He was in a good mood. He wasn’t in pain. He was well-rested, and warm.

He was going to text Ed.

He may not respond. Probably wouldn’t. But — he could get the ball rolling. He could reach for that burnt, jagged, empty part of himself that longed for …

Longed for Eddie back.

He stared at his phone. At his conversation thread. The last text he’d received was Ed telling him to come to Jackie’s, back when he was sick. 

He took a deep breath, and started typing. 

Hello. Would like to talk, if you have time.

Almost immediately, his phone rang.

Fuck.

—

“…hello?”

“Izzy,” Ed breathed, squeezing his stress ball as hard as he could. “Holy fuck. Fuck. Hey, mate. What’s up?”

There was a second of silence where Ed thought he had ruined it.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He heard Izzy’s throat work. Heard him swallow. “Apologize.”

“Izzy,” Ed said, already gearing up for the speech he’d been writing. “Izzy, Izzy, stop for a second.”

Izzy went silent.

(A lifetime of obeying.)

Ed cringed, nails digging into the rubber. “I mean, you can go. Shit. Sorry, fuck!”

“Go, Edward.” Izzy said, sounding tired. 

He always sounded like that, though. Tired, or angry. Fed up with Ed’s bullshit, or too broken down to fight back.

“Fuck.” Ed choked. “Okay. I’m sorry, Iz. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you, forever. I’m trying not to do that anymore.”

Ed held his breath, waiting for Izzy to respond.

“…I’ve got shit to apologize for, too.” Izzy said, and cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. Shouldn’t have — goaded you. Called you a pussy.”

Ed made a frustrated sound. He and Izzy both spoke at the same time:

“If I had known you wanted —“ “If you had just told me you wanted —“

They both stopped.

Ed laughed, a little helpless.

“…what’s it like? You and Fang?” Ed let his head fall back. “Did we both want the same thing?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fuck, I think so.” There was a rush of static, as Izzy thought about it. “Does Bonnet say pansy shit to you? Kiss you and hug you and — and such?”

“Yeah. And such.”

“We do that too. Fuck.” Izzy said, with great feeling. “We’re fucking idiots.”

“Yeah. But hey,” Ed held up a finger, mood brightening. “I’m doing this new thing where I blame Hornigold for it more.”

“Fucking Hornigold…”

“Fucking Hornigold. He told us it was pussy shit. Called us faggots. Right?”

“…right.” Izzy sighed. “But I kept fucking saying it.” 

“Well, I mean, fuck. Me too. I just —“ Ed’s voice faltered. “I just beat the shit out of you and did the other stuff in private. The stuff I really wanted.”

The line went deathly quiet, and Ed hissed through his teeth.

“Izzy,” Ed said, desperately. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Edward.” Izzy said. “What do you do with Bonnet?”

Ed sighed.

“I dunno. We hold hands. Go out. Have — have really boring sex. It’s great.”

“Yeah.” Izzy said, maybe a little wistfully. “You think … we could have done that?”

Ed felt a horrible knot form in his throat.

He knew the answer.

But he thought Izzy might break if he told him.

“I think,” Izzy said, unaware of Edward’s crisis. “I think we needed it like this. Needed an outside eye, to tell us we were fucking it up.”

“Like Stede and Fang.” 

“Yeah. We both —“ Izzy made an awful, wet sound. “Both of us … found what we needed. I guess.”

“I still want to see you.” Ed breathed, all in one quick rush. “I still want to talk to you. It’s so fucking weird, with Stede, and I —“

He needed something normal. Something like home. 

“You’re supposed to be with me.” Ed said, not petulant, or angry. Just — a fact. “I don’t know what we can do with each other. But it doesn’t feel right without you.”

“Oh, Eddie…” Izzy sighed, voice rapturous.

He had him. He had Izzy back. That’s all it took.

“I’d need to talk to Fang.” Izzy said, hedging a little.

“C’mon, Iz…”

“I do.” Izzy insisted. “He knows about this shit. Fucking — like a sixth sense. He always makes it right. Okay?”

“Iz—zy.” Ed whined, because he knew Iz was a sucker for it. “Please?”

He listened it Izzy breathing. Imagined him licking his lips. Imagined how he looked at Ed, like he was a god, like he was everything he wanted to dream of. 

“I’ll talk to Fang, okay?”

Ed sighed. “Okay.”

“Edward —“

Izzy cut himself off. 

What had he been about to say? That he missed him? Wanted him? Loved him —?

“…you’ve still got it, boss.” 

Ed froze.

Still got what? Izzy? Could still yank his collar? Could still be Blackbeard, heir of Hornigold, and the thing that went bump in the night? 

It had been quiet on the phone too long.

“‘course I do.” Ed blurted, forcing a smile. “I - I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Alright.” Izzy whispered. 

And the line went dead.

Ed didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Chapter Text

Izzy was going to Fang’s place. Fang was going to pick Izzy up. He was going to sit in Fang’s car.

It was too incredible to believe. Too socially mundane for Izzy to know how to proceed.

BDSM clubs had rules. But how the fuck was he meant to act in Fang’s car? In his flat?

He ended up showering twice — scared he smelled bad, or that his deodorant was evaporating. He styled his hair fastidiously, and trimmed his goatee.

“The fuck are you doing?” Izzy said, to his reflection. His reflection scowled back. No answer.

The car beeped outside. Izzy dropped his phone in the sink.

“Fuck.”

—

Fang honked the horn at him in a cheerful way. He leaned over the passengers seat to call out of the open window.

“Taxi for Mister Hands?” Fang yelled, cheekily.

Izzy could only stare. 

Fang was sat in a mint green Volkswagen Beetle. There were garishly colored balloon spilling over behind him from the trunk. He was scrunched over the steering wheel and looking as cheerful as ever.

Izzy Hands — dressed in black jeans, a Motley Crüe t-shirt, and leather vest — nearly went back inside.

Fang beeped the horn at him. 

Izzy opened the passenger door. He stepped carefully inside, dodging a yellow and purple balloon with smiley-faces on them.

(The car was the perfect size for him. He would take that to his grave.)

“Dare I fucking ask?” 

Fang laughed, slinging his arm over Izzy’s headrest. He looked backwards, reversing out. It was unfairly attractive. 

“We learned about static electricity today.”

The penny dropped. Bright car, sensible footwear …

“Tell me you don’t teach kindergarten.” Izzy pleaded. “I can’t shag a man who teaches kindergarten.”

“Pre-school, actually.”

“Mother of Christ.” 

The balloons squeaked together cheerfully.

“Could you not pop the fuckers before getting ‘em in the car?”

“I need them for tomorrow.” Fang said, with a pout. “Whole other class. They can’t blow them up themselves.”

“Tiny lungs?” Izzy guessed.

“Tiny lungs.”

“Good learning experience.” Izzy pointed out. “Builds character.”

“What, passing out in class?”

“I passed out at school. Loads of times.”

“Yeah, and you turned out just fine.”

Izzy snorted, rubbing one of the balloons with his leather glove. It made a strange sound, and felt even stranger.

“Is Mister Fang the fun teacher?”

“Mister Fang is the funnest teacher.” Fang clicked his turn signal. “And don‘t you fucking forget it.”

Izzy had forgotten to be nervous. He kept poking the balloon, listening to some weird ambient metal Fang had on the radio.

“I did have a question for you.” Fang said, chewing his lip. “You can say no —“

“No.”

Fang swatted at his arm. Izzy smirked.

“—but Lucius was going to come over today. He always drops me off a basket of samples from the spa. Maybe a catch-up, and a little massage…?”

Now it was Izzy’s turn to chew his lip. 

It was always easier, hanging out with three people instead of two. Eddie always got bored of him — it was nice to have Jack around to soak up some of the attention, the pressure, the responsibility. 

But Izzy really wanted to be with Fang.

“You’d be there?” Izzy asked, the high, anxious tone that he hated slipping into his voice.

“‘Course I would. Lucius is my protégé.”

“What, your sex protégé?”

“My Dom protégé.” Fang corrected. “What do you think?”

Izzy thought back to Lucius in Spanish Jackie’s soft room. He had cuddled him into a blanket, stroking his hair and letting Izzy mumble against his lips.

He had been soft. Big. Smelled nice.

“Fuck it.” Izzy said, looking out the window so Fang couldn’t see him blush. “The more the merrier.”

—

Fang graded homework while they waited for Lucius. It was quite the involved process.

“Who the fuck gives fucking homework to fucking kindergartners?” Izzy said, snacking on some sugar snap peas. “Who the fuck grades it?”

“Pre-schoolers.” Fang corrected, primly. “And it’s not me assigning it — it’s the curriculum. And my grading is very fun!”

“Seems involved.”

“Well, you gotta figure out the perfect sticker … see, Olive doesn’t do great with the word bits, but the drawings are incredible. What’s the best sticker for that?”

Fang held up two options — ‘Great Effort,’ which was a gold typeface across a pink elephant, or ‘Go Get ‘Em, Tiger!,’ which was red typeface across a sleeping, happy tiger.

Izzy chewed thoughtfully. “How ‘bout this one?”

Izzy pointed to one that said ‘You make me cocoNUTS!,’ with yellow type beside a cartoon palm tree.

“Olive drew a giraffe. You could make it look like he’s eating the palm leaf.”

“Izzy.” Fang said, eyes shining. “You’re a natural.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

The doorbell rang.

—

“Hell—oo?” Lucius sang, prancing into the room with his hands covering his eyes. “Everyone decent?”

Izzy looked at Fang. Fang looked at Izzy, eyes twinkling. 

Lucius removed his hands, and made a disappointed sound. “Mm, pity…”

Lucius had a purple wicker basket slung over his elbow, bursting with lotions, oils, a candle and … a stuffed dachshund?

Fang squealed, making little grabby hands at it. Lucius passed it over.

“Hey, Iz. It’s been a second. Your hair looks cute. How’d you make it that poofy?”

Izzy shrugged. 

“Spill.”

”…dangle my head in the sink and brush it backwards.” Izzy admitted. Fang looked over with interest.

”So much work. Shave it bald!”

”It’s not a good look, for me.” Izzy said, cringing at the memory. 

“Mm, I wanna see pictures. How’s the back?” 

Lucius scrunched up his face in a way that could be condescending. Or maybe he was genuinely asking? Izzy glanced at Fang, who was uncapping everything and sniffing it. 

“Back’s fine.” Lucius gave him a doubtful look. “A little itchy. Scarred up.”

“I’ve got stuff to help with that. This month’s signature scent is lavender,” Lucius gestured at the purple basket. “But I nabbed Fang all the sensitive skin ones. No fragrance!”

“No fragrance!” Fang cheered.

“Whatcha think, Dizzy Izzy?” Lucius said, with a flirty little smile. “Wanna try some out?”

”Fuck.” Izzy said, ears red. Fang waved his little oils around excitedly. “Yeah, why the fuck not.” 

Chapter Text

Izzy ended up shirtless and on his back, head in Fang’s lap. 

They were on the bed in the guest room, which was softer than any mattress Izzy ever had in his life. Izzy also decided that Fang’s lap was the best pillow in the world. His hands trailed through his hair, making him shiver and sigh.

“Who’s excited? I’m excited!” Lucius said, giddily. He had changed into some weird lifeguard shorts, still keeping his polo shirt. “Can’t wait to have my wicked way with you.” Lucius punctuated the word by flicking open the vial of oil.

“Fuck off, you tart.” Izzy sniped, automatically. “Christ, those shorts short enough for you?”

“Aw, he’s jealous of my gams! Men of a certain age start to sag — there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“The two of you!” Fang said, slightly impressed. “Your fangs are showing — pull in your claws!”

“Oh, like he’s one to talk.” Lucius scoffed. He was chatting as he drizzled some oil on Izzy’s upper chest, making it casual and comfortable. “Fang’s the original mean girl.”

Izzy looked up at him, intrigued. 

Fang sputtered. “I am not!”

“Bitter queen. Shady queen.”

“Don’t believe him, Izzy.” Fang pleaded. Lucius winked at him. 

It was … strange. Nice? 

Izzy felt like he was in on the joke. Part of the group. Part of something.

“So, Izzy,” Lucius began, capping the vial and putting it on the nightstand. “I’m gonna start pressing down on these muscles with the heel of my hand. Tell me if the pressure is too much, or too little. Mmkay?”

“Simple enough.” Izzy mumbled, masking his anxiety. 

Fang gave his scalp a good scratch, holding up his other hand to pause Lucius.

“And what do we ask, beforehand?”

Lucius gave him a confused look. “You think it’ll get that intense?”

“Doesn’t matter. I want you to get comfortable asking it. And I want you,” Fang poked Izzy’s nose. “Izzy, to get comfortable being asked. And saying it out loud.”

“Alright.” Lucius cleared his throat, sitting back on his heels. “Izzy, darling? Would you mind telling me your safeword?”

Izzy swallowed hard, looking up at Fang. Fang kept stroking his hair, face calm. 

“Uh.” Izzy said, mouth dry. He didn’t know why it was so strange. So uncomfortable. So weird, having both of their attention laser focused on him. “It’s — um, it’s the same as Fang’s.”

He looked up at Fang again, immediately anxious. He had wiggled out of saying it. Would Fang be disappointed? He understood, didn’t he? Why — why it was weird to say? 

Fang kept on stroking his hair. His voice was firm.

“Say it out loud, pup.” 

“It’s. Um, it’s …” 

Izzy squeezed his eyes shut. It was so fucking annoying. Ridiculous, that he couldn’t make himself say one stupid fucking word —

“Anchor,” Izzy forced out, like he’d just run a marathon. “It’s ‘anchor.’”

“Good boy.” Fang said.

“Thank you, Izzy.” Lucius added, his teasing voice gone. Izzy really wanted it back — this was too personal, too intimate, too serious. 

“But —“ Izzy cut himself off, grinding his teeth. 

“…people don’t ask you that a lot, do they?” Lucius said, his voice flat.

“Lucius.” Fang chided.

“Just saying. What’s the ‘but,’ Izzy?”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Izzy burst out. He’d been thinking it for a while, but didn’t want to disappoint Fang, but Lucius was asking — “It’s so fucking — Fang knows it. So why do you have to know? And — why would I ever say it?”

Fang went deathly quiet, falling into the breathing pattern he liked.

Izzy cringed. Lucius hadn’t even done anything, and he had already ruined it. 

The oil was getting cold on his chest.

“Yeah, fair.” Lucius said, placidly. Izzy blinked up at him. “No, I get it. Especially ‘cause I said that shit about ‘intense’ and stuff.”

Lucius wiggled his fingers at him. Izzy nodded, feeling totally confused.

Lucius rubbed some of the oil around, and Izzy let out a huge breath. 

“So, there’s a few reasons. Fang knows your word, but what if he doesn’t hear you? What if he runs off to the toilet, and it’s just the two of us?”

Izzy scrunched his face. Neither of those things sounded very likely…

“Different things are intense for different people. Sure, I’m really used to this,” Here, Lucius put a bit of pressure on a knot in Izzy’s shoulder. Izzy’s breath hitched. “But this might be brand new for you. Overwhelming. Painful, if I hit the wrong spot. Sometimes it’s good to have a word.”

“…couldn’t I just say stop? As in, ‘fuck off, you fop, you’re hurting me?” Izzy said, sort of a joke, trying to get Fang happy again.

Lucius snorted. “See, I’m pretty sure you’re joking, but what if I wasn’t sure?” 

Lucius climbed over top of him, his thighs on either side of Izzy’s pelvis. Suddenly, Izzy’s breath was hitching for a different reason. Lucius leaned over, hands loose around Izzy’s neck, looking into his eyes.

“Izzy.” Lucius said. “Is this okay?”

Izzy’s mouth was open, staring at his serious face. “Y-yeah.”

“Good. Can we try something?” Lucius licked his lips. Izzy followed the movement. “Do you trust me? Well, a little?”

Izzy nodded. 

“Can you practice saying that word for me?”

“‘Anchor.’” Izzy said, immediately, wanting to make him happy. Fang happy. Lucius happy—? “Anchor.”

Lucius’ hands immediately left his throat. He sat back, looking at Izzy’s face.

“…but what happens?” Izzy pleaded, finally getting to the crux of the issue. “The — the fucking world ends, and you hate me, and —“

“This happens.” Lucius says, gently. “I stop. No matter what. And I say, ‘what do you need?’”

“But what if I don’t want it to stop?” Izzy whispered. “Just —“

Eddie, slapping the back of his hands. It hurt. But he liked it when it was his forearms. But — he couldn’t ask to go back, because Eddie wanted this, now.

“—just something … different?” Izzy asked, desperately.

“That’s a really good question.” Lucius said, with an encouraging smile. “Sometimes, people use stop lights, or colors. How about this — if you want me to stop-stop, like completely stop, you say your word. Which is …”

“Anchor.” Izzy mumbled. Lucius smiled at him. 

“Yep. But if you want to sort of stop to change something up, you could say …”

Lucius motioned to him expectantly. 

“Uh.” Izzy said. “Orange?”

“Orange!” Lucius cheered. “That’s a great one.”

“Orange.” Fang repeated, voice gruff. “That’s me, saying ‘orange.’”

Izzy nearly bolted upright. Lucius kept his hands on his shoulders. “Sure, Fang. What do you need?”

“Izzy,” Fang said. “Can I kiss your forehead?”

“What?” Izzy squawked. “Fucking — of course you can, the fuck kind of question —“

Lucius giggled, somewhat hysterically. Fang bent over for his kiss, cupping Izzy’s face gently. 

Izzy gasped, and closed his eyes. It was so much — so handsome, so gentle, and so close to him. 

It felt like looking into the sun.

“Good boy, Izzy.” Fang said, a strange note in his voice. “Very, very good boy.”

That note in his voice was it —

Was he —

Was he proud?

—

“Oh, my god.” Lucius breathed. “This is happening.”

Fang and Izzy were staring at each other like the sun and the moon. Izzy’s head was tilted back, neck on display, fully submitted. Fang was searching his face, content with what he found.

Fang settled back against the pillows. Izzy relaxed into his lap. A silent conversation — two puzzle pieces slotting together.

Lucius was suddenly afraid to touch him — afraid of interceding upon something sacred: shaking at the altar, candle tipping in his hands.

He decided to plunge in with both feet, grabbing Izzy’s tits. 

—

“Honk, honk!”

Izzy sputtered, kicking a leg … somewhere. 

“Oh, hello…” Lucius said, with a wistful sigh. He lifted the heft of Izzy’s chest, and let it drop. “Oh, my, my, my!”

“This is your protégé?” Izzy said, weakly. Fang was too busy laughing to answer. 

“Yummy. Were these pierced at one point? Izzy, you dog!”

The frightening memories were far away, drowned out by Fang and Lucius’ giggles. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Izzy muttered. “Made it easier.”

“Easier, he says…?” Lucius purred, rubbing his chest hair, digging his fingers into soft flesh. “Easier, how?”

“Mm…” Izzy squirmed under the attention. “Gets a better pinch. You know.”

“Really?” Lucius said, and pinched his nipple, hard. “How’s that?”

“Ah — fuck…” Izzy said, rocking under Lucius’ hips. “Not bad. For your soft, dainty hands.”

“Soft and dainty?” Lucius gasped. “Thank you!”

Lucius pinched again, just as hard, but held on. He rolled Izzy’s nipples on a punishing grip, tugging them a little.

“Ah — hah! Mm, better, yes — fuck…AH!”

Izzy yelped as Lucius tugged upwards. He wore a devilish grin.

“Fang, babes — you really haven’t played with these yet?”

“Fuck, fuck — you cocksucker, you fucking — ah!”

“Mine aren’t sensitive at all.” Fang pouted, as though his puppy wasn’t writhing and swearing. “I kinda forget about ‘em.”

“ — mm, god —“

“Why don’t you take over, Fangy?” Lucius said, sweetly. “Then I can keep working on his torso. How’s about that?”

“Quite nice.” Fang said, cheerfully. “Good for you, pup?”

Izzy made a weak noise.

“Perfect!”

—

Fang pinched both of his nipples, rolling them in his strong fingers.

“How’s that?” Fang cooed, as though Izzy wasn’t melting in his lap. “Is that good?”

Good? Izzy thought, hysterically. Good?

It felt — like liquid heat. From Fang’s fingers, to Lucius’ hands, down his torso and into his cunt. 

“Mm..!” Izzy whined, a little embarrassed at how turned on he was. “Mmm! Ah!”

“Good boy.”

Lucius was rubbing him all over, warm and soft. He had started giving him little kisses, too. He had more strength in him than Izzy would have thought. He kneaded and pushed Izzy’s muscles into loosening, leaving the skin pink with exertion.

“Yum.” Lucius said, kissing down his chest. “Mm, yum. Can I undo your jeans, baby? Get some more of your tummy?”

They hadn’t said Izzy could move his hands. They were twitching stones, gripping the sheets beside him.

Izzy nodded.

It was so — personal, and familiar, the way Lucius undid his belt and jeans, tugging them down a little. It made Izzy blush and squirm — feeling like he was being yanked around, dressed and undressed, like a little dolly.

Fuck, there was a spike of heat in his groin at the thought. Fang chose that exact moment to tug.

Izzy yowled, a full-throated, humiliating sound. He arched up to get away, towards Fang’s fingers, into the pain, into anything —

Lucius moaned against his lower stomach, dragging his lips over the trail of hair leading to the waistband of his briefs. “Fuck, he’s sweaty.”

“Isn’t he wonderful?” Fang said, voice proud. “My new puppy?”

New puppy, new puppy, Izzy was his new puppy …!

“Delicious.” Lucius licked him, tongue dipping into his belly button. “Divine. Fuck, Izzy. Can I eat you out? Finger you, a little?”

Izzy whimpered, hoping Fang would answer. Fang knew best. He always knew best.

“Mm, you have any dental dams?”

“I’ve got condoms. I can cut ‘em in half. Do you have any scissors?”

“Orange.” Izzy said, immediately. “No scissors. The — the sound, I can’t —“

Fang let go of his nipples with a comforting sound, caressing his chest. Lucius nodded, burying his face in his tummy.

“Okay, pup. No scissors.” Fang said. “Good boy, for telling me. What a good boy. Lucius, I’m gonna tell you exactly what to do for him. How to make him feel good. Okay?”

Lucius nodded again, kissing Izzy’s hip in apology. “Okay.”

“Good. Izzy, are you okay with Lucius taking your jeans off? You’d leave your underwear on. Is that alright?”

“Y-yes —“ oh, fuck, he almost said ‘daddy,’ almost said that in front of Lucius “—yes, Fangy. Fuck. Fang.”

Fang’s eyes twinkled, like he knew what Izzy wanted to say. 

“Okay. Slide those off for me, Lucius. God, how do you get those on? Were you sewn into them?”

“And he calls me the tart,” Lucius teased, throwing Izzy’s jeans to the side. “Meanwhile he’s wearing painted pants.”

“Fuck off,” Izzy said, but it didn’t come out right — it came out breathy and sweet, because he was in his underwear, and they were fully clothed, and Lucius could probably smell how sweaty and wet he was. “Oh, fuck.”

“Aw, is he embarrassed?” Fang said, sweetly. He tugged Izzy up from his under arms, having him sit in his lap. 

Izzy whimpered. Fang kept sitting him so his back was to Fang’s tummy. He wanted to face him, and kiss him, and see how handsome he was …

“Poor baby.” Fang said, with a pout in his voice. He kissed Izzy on the cheek. “My poor little thing. Lucius, watch my hand, okay?”

That was all the warning he got — before Fang was pawing at the crotch of his briefs. Izzy squealed, his toes immediately curling. 

“See that? He loves a good rubbing. You’re gonna take care of that for me, while I play with him up here. Okay?”

“No fair,” Lucius groused. “I’m the one who told you about his tits. I wanna play up there, too.”

“Down, boy.” Fang said, firmly. Lucius grumbled, but acquiesced. 

And started massaging his cunt like it was any other muscle. With the heel of his palm, and the entirety of his arm muscles.

“Fuck — orange!” Izzy squeaked. “Too hard! Fuck!”

“Holy hell, Lucius!” Fang said, trying not to laugh. “A little more romance, please!”

“I’m sorry!” Lucius cried. “I’ve never — with this type of — with these genitals, I just —“

Izzy wheezed out a laugh, mostly because Fang’s face was scrunched up in second-hand embarrassment.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Fang said. “You’re both trying to kill me.”

“I’m sorry!” Lucius said, a little less panicked now that Izzy was laughing. “What do I do?”

“Why don’t you work on his legs, then.” Fang said. “Because I can’t trust you with anything else…”

“Keep your hands off my feet, though.” Izzy said, wiggling his toes. “Uh. Orange. Feet.”

“Like I want to touch your feet, anyways!” Lucius said, having moved on from embarrassment to bitchiness. “Who the fuck would want to touch your feet?”

“I wanna touch your feet! Maybe suck your toesie-woesies!” Fang said, helpfully. “Someday! If you’re okay with it!”

“Fang’s an outlier.” 

“Fuck off.” Izzy said, unable the stupid smile on his fucking face. “Twats.”

Lucius moved down his legs, positioning Izzy so his knees were a bit bent. He started to work on Izzy’s thighs, stroking up his briefs, before coming back down.

It was nice. Relaxing. 

Izzy closed his eyes and drifted, smelling Fang’s soft scent, hearing him breathe, feeling the rise and fall of him against his back…

Heaven, he thought, distantly. This must be heaven.

His nipples were a little sore, still sending heat through his stomach. Fang traced down his body, feeling his skin twitch and jump at the gentle touch.

He kissed Izzy’s neck. He rubbed two fingers on his briefs, right over his clit.

Izzy sighed, stretching his leg for Lucius. 

Lucius paused. Then his hands began to creep higher, as Fang’s fell lower…

Izzy whined as Fang rubbed him. Took care of him. Pleasured him. Lucius parted his thighs with firm pressure — the type Izzy would love to squirm and rock and fight.

But … not right now. Not while he was floating. Not in Daddy’s lap. 

Izzy whined when Fang’s fingers turned cruel.

“Hush, lovely.” Fang whispered. “He’s touching himself, for you. He’s staring at you.”

Oh. That sound. That rhythmic fucking. It was Lucius, fucking his fist. Looking at him. Looking at Izzy’s pussy, seeing Fang’s fingers move under his briefs. Seeing the damp patch grow.

“Does he want to touch you?” Fang wondered aloud. “Want to taste?”

Lucius made a little sound. Fang tutted, chin resting on Izzy’s shoulder.

“He can’t.” Fang said, voice husky and possessive. “Not you. You’re daddy’s girl. No one else’s.”

Izzy whimpered. Lucius had probably heard worse, but — 

Oh, god. Lucius was leaning closer. He was breathing heavier, hand moving faster on himself. His lips — 

“Mine to make squirt. Mine to fuck. My little puppy. Isn’t that right?”

Fang gripped the nape of his neck, when Izzy didn’t answer.

“Isn’t that right?”

“Y—yes, daddy — ah…!”

—

When Izzy came, it was an inevitability. 

It was a soft, cresting wave — a pull underwater. Izzy’s body — so soft, so curved, arching and bowing with his pleasure. His skin was soft and glistening, pink and flushed. 

He was putty in Fang’s arms. Wet against his fingers. 

Somewhere deep and dark and selfish, Fang was victorious.

He had made Izzy love him.

He swallowed hard, pushing those thoughts away. He slowed his fingers, letting Izzy choose to buck up in the aftershocks or not. 

Lucius was wrecked, his lips glistening, his eyes wide on Izzy’s face. Fang smiled. His puppy was handsome.

When Izzy came, it was inevitable. When Lucius came, it was the end of a sprint. 

He gasped, hiding his embarrassing noises in Izzy’s thigh. “Fuck — mmm…”  

Fang didn’t miss how Lucius nuzzled in, brow furrowed, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. He was sucking on Izzy’s inner thigh, being a greedy little thing …

Oh, well. He could forgive him. Just this once.

“Lucius.” Fang said. “Clean up your mess.”

Lucius kissed Fang’s fingers — separated only by Izzy’s wet briefs. He sat back, shivering with pleasure.

“Look, pup.” Fang said to Izzy, gently. He still had his hands by his side, in the sheets, such a good boy…

Izzy opened his eyes, dazed.

They watched Lucius clean the spend off his hand…

—

“So!” Lucius said, with a clap of his hands. “This was fun!”

Fang groaned, thunking his head against the doorway. Lucius had that gleam in his eye — that meddling, gossiping, mischievous gleam.

Usually, it was fun. But now it was directed at him.

“What do you think?” Fang mumbled, wringing his hands.

“Em, well …” Lucius made a face of false consideration. “He’s a tough one. You never like it easy, do you?”

Fang would have bristled, if anyone else had said it. But he knew what Lucius was really asking.

“Never easy.” Fang said, quietly. “No fun, that way.”

They stood, in contemplative silence.

“You adore him.” Lucius said.

Fang squeezed his eyes shut. “What?”

“I keep thinking …” 

Fang glanced upwards, where Izzy was taking a bath. 

“Is it too fast?” Fang whispered. “Am I — getting obsessive? Again?”

Lucius regarded him. 

“I think that Izzy reminds me of you.” Lucius said, speaking carefully. “And seeing you take care of him … it makes me think you’re really taking care of yourself.”

“He’s — he’s his own man.” Fang said, nervously.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Lucius stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Fang’s shoulders. Fang tugged him into a hug, breathing in his cologne. 

“If he’s game, and you’re game, then what’s the harm?” Lucius said, a warm whisper against his cheek. “You love to take care of him. Seems like he needs it. Especially right now, especially —…”

“Don’t.” Fang breathed. “I can’t. Don’t.”

Lucius nodded. He kissed Fang’s cheek. He pulled away, looking Fang in the eye.

“I love you, babes.” Lucius said. “You have terrible taste in men, and you make my life difficult, but I love you.”

“Terrible taste, he says.” Fang snorted. “You seemed to like him well enough.” Fang made a lewd gesture.

“Well…!”

“‘You think it’ll get that intense, do you?’” Fang simpered, in an impression of Lucius’ voice.

He got a thwack on the shoulder, which meant it was probably somewhat accurate.

Chapter Text

Izzy sat in the stupid bath.

It was stupid. Huge. Heated and bubbly with lots of jets, which felt amazing on his back.

Fang was just a second away. Just in the other room. He heard him climb the stairs after seeing Lucius to the door.

He breathed deeply, inhaling the steam.

“Fu—-cking idiot.” Izzy said, really drawing the word out. “Fuck. Fuck.”

He was spiraling. He knew why. He wouldn’t dare say it. He was going to start hyperventilating, breathing more water than air, even though he was above the surface, staring at the steam, staring at the ceiling —

“Fang?” Izzy croaked. 

The door opened, and Izzy could breathe again. Sort of.

“Hello, puppy.” Fang said, changed into soft looking pajamas. “Time to get out?”

Izzy nodded, feeling his lips wobble.

“Oh, puppy.” Fang sighed, and grabbed a fluffy, brown towel. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Fang lifted him out of the tub. That’s what made Izzy cry, in the end: he was nude, and heavy, and it was an awkward angle, and Fang hadn’t seen him naked before.

But he hoisted him like he was nothing, speaking softly and carrying him into the bedroom. 

“Daddy,” Izzy sobbed. “Oh, daddy, daddy, daddy …”

Fang patted him dry with gentle hands. He didn’t know a towel could be so soft — could dry without scratching his sensitive skin. He helped Izzy into a spare set of briefs, which brought the sobbing back in full force. He clothed him, covering his shame, making him feel safer.

“Good tears?” Fang asked, quietly. “Or ‘too-much’ tears?”

Izzy shook his head, because Daddy was supposed to know, and Izzy didn’t want to say it, and he was a brat and being spoiled —!

“Daddy,” Izzy sobbed, over and over again. “Daddy, I want daddy …”

Fang pulled him into the warmest, biggest hug — squeezing him and rocking him and letting him make a mess of his shirt. 

“I’m here, baby.” Fang said. “I’m right here.”

“No, I want daddy…!” Izzy cried, working himself into a tantrum. “I want daddy!”

Hornigold. Ed. Daddy. Anyone — anyone who wouldn’t make him leave, who would mark him up, who would brand him as their own, because Izzy wasn’t a person, he was a pet he was a thing he lived for them he wanted them —

“You — are you missing Benjamin?” Fang asked, carefully. “Is that it?” 

“No, daddy,” Izzy wailed. “I want daddy —!”

“Izzy, baby…” Fang crooned, kissing his tears. “Tell me what you mean.

“I want daddy,” Izzy hiccuped. “I want daddy all the time.”

“Oh.” Fang said, softly. “Oh, baby…”

Izzy started suckling on the closest thing he could find — which was the strap of Fang’s tank-top. Fang tutted, easing him back, and replaced it with one of his big fingers.

Oh, that was much better. He could taste daddy. Daddy gave it to him. Daddy loved him…

Izzy started humping Fang’s leg, already feeling a little calmer.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Fang said, his tone … pleased, but trying to hide it. Trying to condescend. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I shouldn’t have let you get scared.”

Izzy shook his head, warbling around his fingers. He — he wanted a second to catch his breath, in the bath. This was — this was —

“I know.” Fang whispered. “I think I know. I know what you’re asking for.”

Fang squeezed him against his side, letting Izzy rut into his tummy.

“I was down with Lucius, and you know what I thought?” Fang kissed his temple. “I thought, ‘my baby is just upstairs. He’s waiting for me.’ And I thought, ‘that’s how it always should be…’”

Izzy nodded, eyes drifting shut, head hurting, Fang’s tummy soft and warm against his crotch.

“You should always be here.” Fang admitted, quietly. “Always. Cuddled up in my bed. Greeting me at the door. Dinner on the table, just for me.”

Yes.

“In my shower, in my car, getting rubbed down in the bath … pissing where I tell you, eating what I want you to eat…” 

Yes, yes, yes!

“When I — when I dried you off…” Fang cleared his throat, blinking away tears. “I wanted to put lotion on you. Make you soft. Make you — more comfortable. But I was scared to ask, scared it’s too much. That I’m being too much.”

Fang took a shaky breath. 

“Izzy. We have to talk about this tomorrow. When you’re — big, again. When we’re both ready. But, oh, baby, my little baby, my good puppy —“

Fang was hard. He was gripping his cock in his other hand, squeezing it to keep from pleasuring himself. Izzy whined around his fingers, upset that daddy was upset, wanting to make it better…

“Is that what you want? Do we both want — too much?”

Izzy came, eyes fluttering, mouth slack and drooling around Fang’s fingers. Fang growled, stripping his cock in a cruel grip, panting against Izzy’s blissed out face.

“Oh, baby. My baby,” Fang growled. “You shouldn’t have said that. I’m going to ruin you. You’re going to be mine. You’re gonna be fat, and happy, and pissing, and soft — oh, Izzy.” Fang’s voice broke. “I’m gonna make you soft for me. Soft skin. Soft lips, and nipples for me to suck on. No more hurting. No more. You can’t be trusted to take care of yourself. But I’ll do it, I’ll take care of you, oh, fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck —!”

“Daddy,” Izzy said. “I love you.”

Fang came into his fist, groaning and shaking against his little treasure. It was fucking incredible — Izzy’s soft little snuffles, and the worship in his eyes. He saw Fang sweaty and gross and doubled over in an orgasm, and looked at him like he’d hung the moon.

He had to kiss him, for that. Had to fuck his tongue into Izzy’s mouth, spit in his mouth, suck on his tongue, and swallow his tiny little whimpers. 

He rubbed his spend into Izzy’s briefs. They were ruined, anyway. He wanted Izzy to smell like him.

Chapter Text

Fang woke from a dream.

He dreamed that Izzy was his puppy. That Izzy wanted this all the time. Izzy had been curled up at his side, snuffling in his sleep. His face was free of worry. He was soft and warm and perfect.

Fang awoke slowly, reluctantly. Izzy was on the far side of the bed, his scarred back facing Fang. It made Fang go cold.

“Hey,” Fang said, softly. “Where’d you go?”

Izzy rolled back to face him, his phone in hand. 

“I Googled it.” Izzy said. “Being — doing this all the time. It’s real. I swear.”

Izzy showed him the page. BDSM Lifestyle, written in gaudy red script, text magnified by Izzy’s accessibility settings.

Fang smiled.

“I know it is, puppy.” Fang said. “Is that something you’re interested in?”

Izzy scooted closer, snuggling up under Fang’s chin. Fang sighed in pleasure, scratching the back of Izzy’s head.

“Good morning, puppy. What woke you up?”

“Ed keeps calling me.” Izzy said, miserably. “ I don’t know what to do.”

Oh.

“Hmm.” Fang said, trying not to show too much of what he felt about that. “Have you talked to him? Since…?”

“Yeah.” Izzy let out a shaky breath. “Says he misses me. Wants to see me. I don’t know.” 

Izzy shrugged, a pitiful movement against Fang’s broad chest. 

“I don’t know.” Izzy said again, a whisper against his chest. “Can’t you decide?”

Fang’s prick gave an interested lurch. 

“Oh, puppy.” Fang sighed, petting his head. “We need to talk about this.”

“Fuck.” Izzy said. “Okay. I’ve been looking at these sites, and things.”

“I’m proud of you for doing that. I’m happy you’re looking into something you want to.” Fang stroked his back, up and down. Izzy arched, rubbing his face in Fang’s clavicle. “I just want to be careful with you. You’re so …”

Izzy tensed.

“Pathetic?” Izzy rasped. “Broken? Fucked up?”

“No, puppy.” Fang said, firmly. “You’re so agreeable. Sweet for me. I don’t want to take advantage of that.”

“I want you to.”

“Izzy,” Fang said, half-hard. “Christ.”

Izzy breathed against Fang’s skin, so close Fang was almost worried he’d smother himself. 

“I want —“ Izzy said, and broke off. “I want so many things. I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

“You are.” Fang assured him. “We just need to be safe about it.”

“You can do that, right? You can make sure?”

“Well, yes, but how can you trust me?” Fang urged. “What if I lied? What if I was being selfish?”

“You’re not.” 

“But what if I was?”

“Yeah, and what if I was a fucking doorknob?” Izzy snapped. “What if your flat was made of tits? It’s not.”

Fang snorted, his laughter taking him by surprise. He wheezed against Izzy’s scalp.

“You like it too.” Izzy said, smug that he’d won a laugh. “You said so.”

“I did. I do.”

“Then why not?”

Fang kissed his hair, his eyebrow, his temple, his cheek. 

Izzy closed his eyes, mouth open.

“You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you?” Fang murmured. 

Izzy scrunched his brows up, still waiting.

Fang kissed him on the lips, licking inside. He fucked himself in, groaning with satisfaction. Izzy’s mouth parted around him, accepting everything he had to give …

Fang pulled back. 

“I’m doing too much.” Fang whispered. “I imagine — god, I imagine terrible things.”

“Like what?” 

“Izzy,” Fang pleaded. “You can’t let me hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Izzy said, with that same assurance. “You won’t let me.”

Izzy’s eyes snapped open, suddenly staring at Fang as though a thought had occurred to him.

“You won’t let me hurt myself.” Izzy realized, a little stunned. “Will you?”

“No.” Fang said, almost violently. “No, not on my fucking watch. We’re done with that shit. You understand me?”

Izzy’s shock melted into … something else. Something like last night, when his eyes were liquid and he looked at Fang with mindless adoration. Something soft and easy to play with. Something moldable.

“I understand you.” Izzy said. 

“So.” Fang said, swallowing hard, trying to get his breathing back under control. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. With all the forms, and safeties, and contingencies that you hate. Okay?”

“Okay.” Izzy breathed, kitten-weak. “Fang. Fang, can I tell you something?”

“Anything, baby.”

“Fang,” Izzy said, face collapsing horribly. “Fang, it hurts. And I tried so hard.”

“Baby,” Fang said, worried.

“No, it — I tried so hard. And I worked so hard, forever. And I hated myself for — for wanting a reward. Because I didn’t deserve one. But if — but if I was trying so hard the whole time…”

Izzy’s eyes were filling with tears. 

“Maybe — maybe this is? Could this be my reward?”

Fuck this.

Fang wrestled Izzy where he wanted. He pinned him on his back, legs spread, Fang lying between them. 

He kissed Izzy again, swallowing his surprise, stealing the gasp from his lungs. He kept fucking Izzy’s mouth, even when Izzy mewled and melted and grabbed his shoulders. 

He pulled back, watching with approval as Izzy choked on his first new breath of air. Izzy panted, head against the pillows, eyes shining. 

“I love you, Izzy.” Fang said, cradling his face.

Izzy sighed, eyes drifting shut. He turned his head, and kissed Fang’s palm.

“I’d like to call Ed.” Fang said, his voice dangerously even. Izzy nodded. 

Fang plucked the mobile from the sheets, frowning at the number of voicemails on Izzy’s lock screen.

Ed picked up halfway through the first ring.

“Iz—“

“Hey, Edward.” Fang said, with a voice like sunshine. 

“Uh. Fang. Is Izzy there?”

“Mm-hmm. You’re on speaker phone.”

“Hi, Eddie.” Izzy murmured.

“Alright,” Ed said, his momentum clearly thrown. “I was thinking maybe we could … hang out? Sometime?”

His tone almost went pleading — like asking his buddies father for a play date. Fang almost laughed aloud at the thought.

“Hi, Fang!” Stede yelled, somewhere in the background. “Is Izzy doing well?”

“Izzy’s doing fine.” Fang said, with a smile. “We’d love to have you over.”

“‘We?’” Ed asked, voice brittle. 

“Mmhmm. Hope to see you soon.”

“Bye, Fang!” Stede said, a little closer this time.

“Bye, Stede.” Fang said, and hung up. “Was that okay?”

Izzy nodded, kissing his palm again. “Thank you.”

“Anything for my puppy.” Fang said, and he didn’t say that like a joke. “Anything.”

He could feel Izzy smiling into his hand.

—

They went to Spanish Jackie’s to finish up the contract. Seemed like tradition, at this point. 

Jackie had made a huge fuss out of the renovations, with red ribbon and giant scissors and tons of leather daddies in shocking states of undress. Pictures and videos of the event went viral, which probably was the point. 

“Welcome,” Jackie flourished, “To Jackie’s!” 

“Not Spanish, anymore?”

“Never was. Our location in Spain was the first one — that stays the same.”

Izzy and Fang shared a confused look.

“Come inside!” Jackie said, waving them in. Her hand was covered in a red glove, which were bedazzled with Swarovski crystals. She had switched out her usual prosthetic for one that was painted to look like cast bronze. “Come on, come on!”

There was a ramp. And a chair lift.

Izzy swallowed hard, leaning gratefully on the new railing, the other hand on Fang’s arm. 

“One, two — there we go!”

It was nearly unrecognizable. 

The main room had been split into zones — a main stage, a half stage, and three or four private rooms with sleek, black doors. While there were stairs down to the main stage, there was also a ramp and another chair lift. 

“Watch this,” Jackie said, as soon as they were on the platform. “Boop!”

She pressed a button, and they were lowered down. No stairs required. 

“Very nice!” Fang enthused. 

“Huh.” Izzy said.

The elevator to the soft rooms was no longer in the labyrinthine hallways — those walls had been knocked out. Now, there were three elevators side by side, all fitted with chairs and cushions. 

“Going down,” A pleasant voice said, from somewhere above them. Jackie flourished like a magician. 

“Going down?” Izzy said, nudging Fang with his elbow. “At this early hour?”

“24/7.” Fang said, and waggled his eyebrows at him. 

The soft room had a similar floor plan — some big sleepover spaces, and little private pods for personal snuggles. Instead of upstairs sleek look, the tones were soft and muted.

“Plumbing! Showers! Bean bag chairs!” Jackie boasted. “What do you think?”

“I adore it. Could see myself playing here.” Fang said, throwing Izzy a cute little smile.

Izzy blushed. “Me too. Maybe. Yeah.”

—

So, it went like this:

Izzy was going to move in with Fang. He was going to rent out his apartment. Jackie and Stede were both contingency houses, with Fang paying for a hotel if Izzy couldn’t get back in his own space. 

“The two of you.” Jackie said, with an unreadable expression. “I can’t tell if this is a match made in heaven or hell.”

“I’m retired, Jackie.” Izzy reminded her. “The leather shop basically runs itself. It’s like I’m taking up … whittling, or some shit.”

“Or gardening.” Fang supplied.

“Does that make your hobby fostering?” Jackie said to Fang, pointedly.

“Everyone knows that.” Izzy mumbled. “That, and pre-school.”

—

Fang would be in charge of what Izzy ate, wore, and did. That literally meant that Fang would be the one getting groceries, making sure Izzy wasn’t wearing things that were uncomfortable out of stubbornness, and wasn’t partaking in self-harming behaviors. 

The contract didn’t say the literal things. Just the general.

“It seems so scary.” Fang said, worriedly. “This is what you want, Izzy?”

Izzy squeezed his hand. “Trust and fucking honest, yeah?” 

Fang looked at him with a loving expression. “Yeah.”

Jackie made a fake vomiting noise. “Okay, moving on …”

—

Both Izzy and Fang could back out at any time. They listed their safewords. Two emergency contacts, which Izzy had to think incredibly hard about. Made code words for check-ins, scene communication, mornings, and night. 

“This is thorough. And not very sexy.” Jackie remarked.

“Better not to think with my prick, on this one.” Fang said.

“You’d never. Don’t know what that would even look like.” Jackie mused.

Fang gave Izzy a heated look. Izzy’s mouth went dry.

“Jackie doesn’t want to know.” Jackie added, hurriedly. “Jackie doesn’t want to know!”

—

So. There it was. Signed with both of their names, pronouns, and the date.

“So much work — might as well just get married.” Jackie said. “It’s not so hard. I’ve done it three or four times.”

“This is the trial run.” Fang said, happily. “Think of that later.”

Izzy looked at him, almost anguished in his disbelief.

“You — would want to do that?” Izzy said. “With me?”

“Sure I would.” Fang said, rubbing the back of Izzy’s hand with his thumb. “You’re my puppy, aren’t you?”

Jackie snorted, waving the papers. “Sounds more like your little house-wife.”

Izzy put both of his hands on Fang’s arm, squeezing it tightly. He seemed to glow…

—

“Right.” Izzy said, once Jackie was gone, and they had three copies of the contract. “Now what?”

“‘Now what?’” Fang parroted, stroking his beard. “Now, the rest of our day, I guess.”

“You guess.” Izzy smirked. “Aren’t you supposed to know? Supposed to decide?”

“Mm, I guess so.” Fang said, cheekily. “I believe I’m going to test my authority. Make you bend a little bit, but hopefully not break.”

Fang leaned in closer, a hand on Izzy’s thigh. Izzy’s breath caught in his throat. His heart thudded in his chest, just from the mischievous sparkle in Fang’s eyes.

“Yes, daddy.” Izzy breathed. “Whatever you want.”

“Mm…” Fang squeezed his thigh. “Good boy. Now that I’ve got you where I want you…”

Fang leaned in even closer. Izzy’s went dark and smoky, his lips parting for a kiss.

“…we’ll have to go shopping!” Fang said, gleefully.

Izzy blinked. Fang hopped to his feet, clapping once in enthusiasm. 

“Fluffy sweaters! Snuggly blankies! Shoesie-woesies for my little pup!” Fang gushed. “Oh, I can’t wait! Come on, we have four hours before the outlets close!”

“Ah.” Izzy said. “Shopping.”

“Come on, sweetie!” Fang said, grabbing his hand. “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives!” 

It was. It really was. Izzy grumbled to hide his smile. Fang saw right through it, beaming back at him, and wrapped him up in a big bear hug.

Well, Izzy thought to himself. More like a teddy bear hug.