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Ed took immense pleasure in grinding his boots down, watching traces of grit kiss Izzy’s bare skin as he trembled underneath his weight. He let the heel dig into the side of Izzy’s hip, pressing down hard enough that he knew he was leaving the skin stamped red, then lazily kicked both feet up.
Izzy silently bore it all. His jaw pulsed when he gritted his teeth as Ed shifted, the heels scraping against his back, leaving a kiss of a promise of what was soon to come.
Izzy was on his hands and knees, stripped of his leather and leaving him vulnerable and exposed and raw in a way that was a rare sight to see. A picture of utter devotion and submission, only for Blackbeard. As per usual.
Ed hummed thoughtfully. “Been a while, hasn’t it, Iz?”
When there was no reply from Izzy, the silence growing uncomfortably heavy for a tick too long, Ed shifted his weight again. The edges of his boots dug into Izzy’s skin, drawing a small hiss from him.
Ed smiled thinly. “Answer me.”
A couple more beats of defiant silence, and then—
“You’ve been busy with your mutt.”
It was bitten out, a half-swallowed snarl in the back of Izzy’s throat, only cut off when Ed lazily swung a foot and clipped him on the side. He shoved cruelly with the same foot. Izzy’s arms trembled as he fought to stay upright, hissing as he curled his fingers on the floor.
Ed lightened the pressure for a moment, only to kick against Izzy once more. “What was that?” The weight grew again, threatening, like a snake coiled up to strike. He watched Izzy fight back a full-body shudder, knowing that he was already drowning in Blackbeard’s tone, his words, his presence.
When Ed made a noise, just a simple, quiet, “Hm,” and Izzy visibly shuddered this time, he knew he’d won. He reached over for his pipe on the table beside him, lighting it and shaking out the flame before it could nip at his fingers. Izzy’s shoulders tensed at the motion, then relaxed minutely when the smoke curled up into the air.
Good boy, Ed thought. This was just what Izzy had needed—what they both needed. It really had been too long; Izzy had barely fought back when Ed wrestled him to the ground, grinding his front into his ass, their leathers creaking as Ed whispered into Izzy’s ear, “Down, dog, you know you want this.”
And Izzy had. He’d been craving it; Ed could see it in the hungry gleam in his eyes.
Izzy was looking more relaxed than he had in weeks. His back was still just as rigid as when they’d first begun, but over time, his jaw unclenched, his eyes fluttered shut, and even a few strands of his usually tidy hair swung down to tickle his forehead.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, Izzy?” Ed murmured, letting tendrils of smoke curl out from the corners of his lips. “To be reminded of your place. To know you’re owned.”
Izzy’s throat clicked as he swallowed. “Yes, Captain.” And underneath those two simple words, a plea: don’t stop.
Good.
Ed’s smile grew. As he fiddled with his pipe before letting it rest on his tongue, he could practically taste Izzy’s shame and desire in the air, the perfect mixture of sweet and bitter. He basked in it, delighting in how small Izzy became when he was under his Captain’s boots, only his Captain.
He glanced at the clock that Stede had insisted was antique, Edward, dearest, I know it’s heavy but you can’t expect me to throw this overboard! He smiled, a coil of smoke leaving him as he rolled his shoulders.
All throughout the captain’s quarters were traces of Stede. Ed loved it. Izzy hated it. That was why Ed had kicked open the door to Izzy’s cabin at dawn, right before he knew his First Mate would begin to stir, then with a hand pressed against his throat, growled, “Captain’s quarters, after breakfast. You understand me?”
They could have done this in Izzy’s cabin. It was small, yes, but big enough for Ed to sprawl on the cot and spacious enough for Izzy to get on his hands and knees. But Blackbeard knew Izzy wouldn’t protest, nevermind disobey. He was proven right when Izzy arrived after his meal.
Izzy was always prompt.
Ed wet his bottom lip with his tongue, the familiar taste of his pipe letting his muscles finally relax as he glanced down at Izzy.
He was still holding position; would keep position even if he broke his limbs from carrying Ed’s weight. His arms had to be sore now, but there wasn’t a meep of complaint.
Good boy.
Despite the pain, despite the grit kissing his skin, Ed knew that Izzy also found solace in this just as he did, in their little routine of Blackbeard and First Mate Hands.