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Chapter Text

So, they’ve been becalmed.

Apparently it’s a big deal, if Izzy’s obsessive measures are any indication; and that’s relative to his baseline obsessive measures, which are already concerningly... thorough. Honestly, Stede thinks he’s working too hard.

Sure, fine, so it's important they don't 'starve' or 'run out of clean water' or whatever else Izzy is so worried about- but, Christ, Stede's hardly seen him in days.

Well- scratch that, Stede's been seeing him just about everywhere; and not only because he's seeking him out.

Izzy's been all over the ship, doublechecking this and triplecounting that (and giving the crew heart attacks when he appears to approve their work). Stede can't turn a corner without finding a frustrated Izzy reexplaining how to properly swab the deck, or griping about barnacles and sunbake, or recalibrating things Stede didn't even know needed calibrating, or just pacing back and forth as he mutters fruitlessly into that damned stockbook.

Sometimes, he'll spend hours just staring at the horizon, sharp eyes raking over the still ocean like he's trying to extract its secrets from the depths- and Stede will spend hours watching him, pretending to read the same page over and again as lounges by the unmanned wheel and admires Izzy's silhouette amidst the endless blue.

On one blessed occasion- when Izzy was up on the quarterdeck, relentlessly studying a pile of charts against the lethargic sea- the stagnant heat had him removing his vest and rolling his sleeves to the elbow, revealing tantalizing coils of wiry muscle gilded by sun-weathered skin... which was promptly followed by a chorus of wolf-whistles from the crew, and Izzy turning this wonderful shade of pink as he told them all where to stick it.

So, yeah, Stede's been seeing him plenty.

The real issue is that Stede has hardly touched him since all this mess. He's scarcely had a chance to get Izzy alone for all his ruthless job-doing, and he's literally never hanging about Stede's quarters like usual, which is upsetting in itself. On the rare occasion Stede actually did manage to initiate any semi-personal conversation, he was summarily dismissed by Izzy claiming to be "too busy to play fuckin' house, Bonnet." (that part stung especially, and he didn't appreciate Stede's joke about 'Busy Hands' either).

And it's equally impossible to pin him down afterhours, when he can't claim responsibility or professionalism. He always slips away to his cabin before Stede can corner him- at least according to the crew when questioned- and Stede has been too nervous about waking him from well-earned rest to risk going by. That man is surprisingly stealthy for a 50-odd-year-old with a wooden leg- it's as admirable as it is aggravating.

In any case: Izzy is in dire need of a break, and Stede is in dire need of Izzy- and he's running out of ways to solve either of those problems.

Watching Izzy now- the dark pillar of him cast a brilliant red-gold in the dying sunlight, some of his silver hair falling loose over his stern brow as he scrutinizes their stocklists for the umpteenth time- Stede knows he has no other option.

"Izzy Hands! Draw your steel!"

"No. The fuck?"

Stede's sword clinks against the deck as he drops his arms dramatically. "Come on, Izzy. Please?"

Izzy doesn't even look up from the worn-out notebook (which Stede is certain was in much better condition just last week). "Hell's gotten into you, Bonnet?"

Oh, he thinks Izzy knows good and well what's gotten into him.

How couldn't he? Try as he might, Stede can't keep his hands off him- and he hadn't actually been trying very hard as of late; not since it became clear Izzy quite welcomed the affections, despite his token protests about 'wasting time'. But now Izzy's actually being serious about those complaints, and Stede needs to get his attention one way or another.

Instead of saying any of this- fully aware of the reception it will earn- Stede simply announces, "I want to practice my sword skills!"

Izzy raises an eyebrow, but not his eyes. "You should conserve that energy."

"Oh- honestly, Izzy." Always so practical. Stede is more than certain he's got energy to spare. "I think we could both use the distraction. And, besides, you're the one always saying I need to improve!"

This, at least, gets Izzy's gaze to flick up to Stede, his head remaining bowed. "Why the fuck would I wanna be distracted from work?"

Good lord, he's impossible.

"Because there's no more work to be done!" Stede throws his arms up in frustration, gesturing out at the listless crew and spotless deck, the shing of his sword a belated reminder that he's holding it.

Right.

He readjusts his grip and begins to deliberately close the distance between them, affecting more confidence than he feels. "I highly doubt those rations have changed count since your last hundred checks; and the crew have completed all their chores and then some." He stops a few feet away, internally preening as Izzy's head finally tilts up to look at him properly. "I see no reason you can't take a break to spar with your Captain."

It's subtle, but Stede has gained skill in reading Izzy's non-expressions, so he delights in the way Izzy's eyebrows just barely twitch up at Captain, his back straightening the slightest bit as his jaw sets. Then it passes just as quickly, like a wave over the shore, and Stede mourns its recession as Izzy scoffs and leans back against the capstan.

"There's always more work to be done." The casual conviction there is certainly a bit concerning, but old news. He keeps the stocklist poised as if to return his attention to it at any second. "And how's it a break if I'm still entertaining you?" 

The fact he hasn't just told Stede to fuck off already bodes quite well for him- and he still gets all fuzzy when Izzy doesn't refute him being his Captain- so, the genuine lead beneath his mocking tone feels like outright encouragement.

"Because you're a nut." Stede says decisively, ignoring Izzy's initial statement (he knows how that road ends). "And I happen to know that swordplay relaxes you more than actual relaxation, though only God knows why."

Izzy's lips twitch in what Stede has come to recognize as a stifled grin, so he carries on even further emboldened, "And, really, how could you pass up the opportunity to educate your hapless Captain?"

There it is again, that little tick in his jaw, now accompanied by the faintest spark in his eyes.

Come on, come on...

Izzy at last lowers the notebook, resting his elbow on the hilt of his sword as he inclines his chin and looks down his nose at Stede (who's still endlessly impressed by how he manages that from his height, he suspects it has more to do with confidence than stature).

"I can think of about a dozen better uses of my time, just off the top of my head. And I'm doing several of them right now. Captain." Those two simple syllables ignite a blaze deep in Stede's gut, for more reasons than he can consider at present.

Izzy does love to remind him that two can play at this game, and he is quite good at it. But, so is Stede.

Nothing else for it, then.

"Oh, come on now, Izzy. What's really the matter?" He's proud his voice only barely wavers as he says, "Scared?"

The immediate response isn't what Stede expects.

Izzy doesn't look aggravated, which should maybe be a relief, but the light amusement on his face is much more unsettling in its own right. His lips tug into the hint of a smile, baring a flash of teeth as he cocks his head just so. Stede gulps as his tongue darts out to wet his lip, then catches on his canine and drags until it disappears again. Good lord...

Then, his expression minutely shifts into something unimpressed, the tense line of his back just barely loosening as he levels Stede with a contemplative stare; but Stede can still spot that glimmer dancing behind his eyes, like the embers set to light a forest ablaze. Stede can feel a twin warmth simmering in his chest.

They stay like that for a few moments, Stede trying not to shift in place as he holds his crumbling ground, until Izzy measuredly straightens back up, his shoulders squaring ever so subtly as he closes the stockbook (finally) and sets it on the capstan.

"Y'know, normally I'm above such childish tactics." Okay, lie.

Izzy then draws his sword in a swift arc, causing Stede to jump backward and yelp rather spectacularly as the point stops mere inches from his face. 

"Guess you just bring out the worst in me, Bonnet."

It almost sounds like a compliment; with that challenging little smirk on Izzy's face, Stede is certainly taking it as one.

Izzy relaxes his sword and shifts back into a starting position, his movement so natural it takes Stede a second to realize he's not being held up anymore. Right, that means he should follow suit. He pointedly ignores Izzy's impatient sigh as he repeatedly ensures his feet are at the right angles.

"Alright- ...alright. I'm ready. Let's fight."

Izzy rolls his eyes, rude, and there's a mocking quirk to his brows now. "You imagine that's how most fights start, Bonnet?"

Stede sniffs primly, slightly affecting his voice as he reproaches, "Well maybe they should, reckon it'd be a far more pleasant scene." 

Izzy snorts, his head briefly flashing aside to hide the genuine grin cracking across his face. Ha! Stede feels like he's already scored a point.

"Well go on then. I'll give you the first strike."

It feels like a trap- scratch that, Izzy's got that glint in his eye, it definitely is a trap- but Stede, high on the thrill of Izzy's undivided attention, swings forward anyway.

Izzy dodges the wide swipe expertly, barely shifting his stance as he catches Stede's blade with his own and swiftly disarms him with a sharp twist of his wrist.

Stede cries out as his arm is wrenched, then again when Izzy's sword flies up to halt a hairsbreadth from his throat. Quick little bastard.

Stede stares down at him in shock, the whooping cheers of the crew muddled by his heartbeat in his ears. Izzy is gazing back almost impassively, but Stede notes with some awe that there's a true wildness sparkling behind his eyes now, a sharper edge to the taunting smirk curling his lips-

"Point one for me." Izzy lowers his sword, moving a few steps further out onto the deck, before raising it again and beckoning Stede with his free hand. 

Oh, he's doomed.

Stede scrambles to reclaim his weapon, hoping their audience will write his red cheeks off as mere embarrassment when he rights himself again. "Well, alright- Now I know, to expect that, so. Good."

A scoff. "Think that's gonna help you?" Even if Stede had before, Izzy's genuine amusement would've murdered that idea where it stood.

"Well, it certainly won't hurt." He responds anyway, just to be contrarian.

Izzy shrugs, looking unfairly casual with a murder weapon poised in front of him. "Alright, let's see it."

"Alright, you will!"

Stede knows he has no business being so indignant, and cocky to boot, but he can't help it; must be to do with his breeding, or the hint of steel that strikes in Izzy's eyes when he is.

He tries to anticipate it this time, feigns to the left to misdirect Izzy's parry, but Izzy's a step ahead of him- his blade is already intercepting Stede's true trajectory before he can even redirect, and his firmer attempt to keep hold this time just results in a sharper pain.

"Oh- Mother-!" Stede hisses the curse into his aching wrist as his sword clatters to the deck, underscored by the crew's barking laughter and sparse winces of sympathy.

"Did it help?" Izzy has that condescendingly curious lilt to his voice, sword still raised to Stede's chest. Stede just glares down at him, struggling not to be charmed by the quirk of his lips as he shrugs and lets his blade drop. "Just hard to tell, is all."

Stede huffs, eyes helplessly following Izzy's sword as it spins in a quick spiral to end up against his own shoulder. "Okay, well- I mean, I'm not exactly gonna get it on my first try, now am I?" 

"Second."

"Oh, you know-"

"You need to follow the pressure."

"-mean, goodness- sorry?"

"Let your arm move back with the force of it," Izzy elaborates boredly; Stede would be offended if he wasn't familiar with Izzy's other teaching styles, "Then move your body to compensate, like- get your fuckin' sword, Christ."

So Stede does, trying to appear minimally ungraceful as he scrabbles it up and mirrors Izzy's reassumed stance.

"Do it like before, but slow it down and I'll tell you where you're fucking up."

Weeks ago, Stede would've grimaced at the vulgar verbiage; now, he's just eager for Izzy to tell him where he's fucking up.

Slowly, maybe too slowly judging by Izzy's huff, Stede brings his sword down again. Izzy meets him a bit quicker with the disarm, and Stede nearly overbalances as he tries to follow it; though he doesn't lose his sword, so.

"First mistake."

Izzy sheathes his sword so quickly that Stede briefly worries he stabbed himself- but then he's stepping into Stede's space and placing his hands on him, and suddenly he can't worry about anything but his racing heart.

It's been far too long since he's felt that leather glove close around his bicep (four days? five, even?), and Stede has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from gasping when Izzy's bare hand comes up to his shoulder, calloused fingers scraping over exposed skin, and he's suddenly being firmly repositioned. 

"-fuckin' time checkin' your fuckin' feet and still can't fuckin'-"

This time, Stede does gasp as Izzy kicks at one of his ankles and pushes his leg farther out- he wishes it was as outraged as it sounded.

"Christ-! A- a verbal instruction would be more appreciated!" He barely sounds choked up, so that's a plus.

"You'll only bugger it. Easier if I just put you where you're s'pposed to be."

Stede downright shivers as Izzy's voice rasps inches from his ear, the casual authority in his tone doing numbers on Stede's self-control. Then, he feels chapped lips brush the side of his face as Izzy leans even closer.

"Though I do know how much you appreciate my 'verbal instruction'."

Oh.

Oh, he's doing this on purpose, the little shit.

When Stede cranes his neck to get a better look at Izzy's face- his own far too flushed for the level of exertion he's really experiencing- his suspicion is confirmed by the knowing smirk ghosting his lips.

Well, isn't that interesting?

Izzy suddenly pushes against his shoulder, and Stede has to shift his feet to stay upright.

"Hey-!"

"Feel that?"

Oh, but Stede can hardly remember when last he heard Izzy say those exact words in that damned voice. (He can actually remember quite well, and does so often.)

All he can manage in response is a choked "Hm?"

"The way you kept your balance," Izzy is still far too close; which is still not nearly close enough, "All goes back to the center. Should feel like that every time."

Stede gulps again. "...Right. Ah, got it."

"We'll see." Izzy moves back, both to Stede's relief and utter dismay. "And loosen your wrist a bit; keep tensin' up like that and it'll break."

Right: loose wrist, wide stance, Izzy's praise- he's got this. 

Once Izzy is ready, and returns Stede's curt nod, Stede strikes again. Izzy doesn't hold back this time, swiping up with enough force to have his previous words echoing in Stede's head- right, no tensing.

Stede shifts his weight with the blow, twisting sharply to the side in an awkward move that still has him staggering to regain balance, but nonetheless keeps his grip on the sword. He recovers quickly enough, bringing his blade back up just in time to block a more straightforward (and notably slower) downswing from Izzy. He yelps and stumbles back a few more steps from the force of it, but he still mostly maintains his defensive stance.

"There you go."

The mildly surprised approval in Izzy's voice has Stede faltering instantly, and Izzy's next swing knocks the handle clean out of his suddenly weak grasp.

"...and there you went."

Stede can't even be bothered by the faux-resignation, already grabbing his sword back and determinedly resetting his stance. "Let me try again."

The immediate interest that glows in the dark of Izzy's gaze has Stede readjusting his position a few more times. He can get this right, if it gets Izzy to look at him like that again, at least.

So Stede tries again, the phantom sensation of Izzy's hold pushing him where he needs to go, and he follows with more certainty now. He still stumbles, fairly sure Izzy hit harder, but he rebalances and parries the next blow with a victorious shout, to the barest nod of satisfaction from Izzy. Done and done.

And suddenly, they're dueling in earnest.

Well, 'dueling' may still be generous; it's mostly Stede getting parried all around their little clearing while the crew holler and Izzy calls out his shortcomings.

"Watch your fuckin' elbow, Bonnet. And steady your feet, this isn't the fuckin' ballet."

It's the most fun Stede's had in days.

He'd almost forgotten the thrill of a good fight in all the boredom of their windless stay, and he's frankly unsure how he's made it so long without having Izzy's sharp eyes locked on him like this. There's just something intoxicating about being on the receiving end of that deliberating glare, dodging those deadly precise blows made just for him, knowing all that razor-sharp focus is Stede's and Stede's alone.

"You aimin' for a fuckin' seagull? Control your swing." 

For better or worse.

It's at least nice to see Izzy's leg isn't giving him any noticeable trouble at present, as he dances around the deck with practiced ease, though Stede is sure he'll still feel it once the excitement wears off. He takes a mental stock of which good oils he still has in abundance; on the chance he actually gets Izzy into bed, it'll be nice to work in a little massage- while he's still amenable enough to being taken care of in the afterglow, that is.

Sometimes, Stede might actually prefer those moments to the ones that lead to them. Certainly, Izzy is a sight and a half in the throes of pleasure, but those quiet moments after? Oh, when Izzy gets soft and grumbly, his body lax and his voice a quiet thunder as he spares heatless jibes, the begrudging bliss that paints his features as he lets Stede spoil him in those little ways he scarcely allows-

Stede's sword hurtling from his hand jolts him back to the present.

"Jesus, Bonnet. Are you even trying?"

Good lord. And Stede is still imagining that smug face broken open in ecstasy.

Yeah, as Lucius might say, he's got it bad.

"Oh, I'm only just beginning!" Stede announces with a provoking brandish of his reclaimed weapon.

"I'll say." Is Izzy's flat response, then their blades are meeting again with a clash.

Determined not to be made a total fool of, Stede braces himself and tries to recall that move Izzy had shown him a few weeks back- the one that'd sent him sprawling on his ass. He's been practicing, but it's still rather complicated. He's supposed to set his feet like this, then something with his nondominant arm, and then get low, and swing up, leg out- Yes!

It didn't work like it was meant to, but Izzy still lurches a step and looks suitably impressed. He recovers with a harsh enough swipe to emphasize it.

"Not as shitty as you started, at least."

Stede thinks it's probably wrong that those words feel like such high praise, but mostly it just makes his tummy flutter. "Well thank you."

When Izzy doesn't refute that it was a compliment, Stede preens. 

However, Izzy quickly sets him straight with a sweeping flurry of glancing blows, which have him backing up to the railing and dropping his sword in a haste to catch himself from going over.

Applause breaks out from the direction of the crew.

"That's not fair!" Stede protests as Izzy steps back, as if that had anything to do with it.

Izzy laughs then- a sharp, beautiful sound that pierces through Stede cleaner than any blade has. "Fair? You know I've got half as many legs as you, yeah?"

Yeah, indeed. Just another reason to be bitterly impressed as he collects his fallen cutlass.

"It's more like three-quarters." Stede snipes back a bit breathlessly; to just an amused huff and indulging shrug this time, but he'll take it. Izzy wordlessly raises his own sword again and they start anew. "Besides, I still once- bested you with- all your limbs intact, didn't I?" 

Once upon a time, the jab would've been enough for Izzy to impale Stede on principle, but now he just crooks a grin like Stede made a touch.

"That's only 'cause I was playin' with my food." Even if those words hadn't knocked the wind out of Stede, Izzy's next flourish would've still left him staggering. "Not a mistake I plan to make again."

The dark note in his gravelly voice has Stede literally weak-kneed, and Izzy hones in like a shark to a papercut. It shouldn't be flattering how easily Izzy can read him.

And read him he does, with a combination of well-aimed strikes to his periphery that have Stede spinning a full circle to stay upright.

"Oh, now you're just showing off!" Stede bemoans, blowing sweaty hair away from his eyes.

Izzy flashes the briefest dazzling smile, making Stede's responding blow uneven. "Can't help it." His feet don't even move as he leans out of dodge. "'Specially considering my competition."

Stede would be embarrassed, and probably rather pissed, if it weren't for Izzy just looking so alive through all this, his voice lilting breezily around the teasing jabs, the fluid motion of his body as he dodges the literal ones, smiling that feral grin that keeps making Stede lose his balance-

It's a bit hard to focus on much else beyond that; and, well, the sword of course. (Though, Stede is certain that look in Izzy's eye has far more lethal potential.)

The sky is darkening by the time Stede distantly hears Roach announce dinner, and the crew are hastily filing under deck with various shouts of "Show no mercy, Hands!" and "You got this, Captain!" and "Try not to kill him, Izzy!"

Stede is suddenly acutely aware of his own empty stomach; Izzy forbade midday tea and biscuits immediately upon their becalming, so Stede hasn't eaten since lunch.

However, another look at Izzy has all thoughts of eating food evaporating from his mind. 

Izzy looks stunning even in the straining dusk, a pitch phantom slicing through the deep blue with deadly intent. He seems to pull the shadows in around him, an emanating darkness in which his sword shines like the corona of an eclipse.

Stede barely registers the blade coming to a stop at his exposed throat.

Izzy's hair has all but come loose by now, previously flowing freely with each swift movement, now slightly stringy where it hangs around his glinting eyes. Goodness...

"What's'a matter, Bonnet?" There's the faintest pant in Izzy's drawl, and Stede would find it immensely gratifying were it not just making his heart race faster. "Can't go another round?"

Stede feels a flush crawl up his neck, both at the taunt in Izzy's voice and the realization that he was gawking. "Oh- Please, I can go all night!"

Izzy cocks a frankly lascivious brow. "You certainly try."

Stede blushes deeper, still caught off-guard by Izzy's spontaneous moments of lewdity, but then a crude smirk is quickly twisting his own lips.

"Well, I could do much more than try if you had any stamina."

Izzy's face darkens into a glower, and Stede notes with pleasure the matching blush creeping above his beard. He spits on the deck and readjusts his sword with intention. "I'll show you fuckin' stamina." 

Not his best work, but Stede is nonetheless invigorated as he takes stance. "I would love to see you try." He replies pleasantly.

Izzy's lips curl into something no sane person could call a smile, and the way Stede's stomach flutters in response is certainly anything but sane.

"Aye aye, Captain."

Before Stede has time to react to that damned word, Izzy's off like a shot.

It's unsurprising when Izzy disarms him right away, but Stede is definitely surprised when Izzy continues on to pull a far more graceful version of the flourish Stede attempted earlier, this time successfully sweeping his leg clean out from under him.

The next thing Stede knows, his ass is hitting the deck, and he's staring up Izzy's sword. Izzy smiles with a glint of teeth, rakes his bare hand through his damp hair.

"Goodness," the breathless word escapes Stede unbidden, his eyes locked on Izzy in helpless awe, "...you're just incredible."

For a heart-stopping second, Izzy just looks down at him with this hunger, raw and wanting in way Stede is rarely privileged with.

"Oh, for fuck's-"

Stede is suddenly being yanked up by his shirt and marched stumbling across the deck.

He's vaguely worried that he's in trouble somehow; they were being much more blatant when the crew was still on deck, but Izzy can be odd about these things sometimes- but then Izzy is shoving him into the Captain's quarters. 

Stede barely has the time to gasp as he's slammed against the closing door before he's being kissed within an inch of his life.

He is not complaining.

Stede kisses back ravenously, all the vigor of battle caught between their fervent lips and grasping hands. Izzy still has one hand fisted in his shirt, pressing him firmly to the wood as Stede lets himself be overtaken.

Through the buzzing thrill in his mind, Stede's only coherent thought is Finally...

Then, soon after, More.

Chapter Text

Stede barely has the time to gasp as he's slammed against the closing door before he's being kissed within an inch of his life.

He is not complaining.

Stede kisses back ravenously, all the vigor of battle caught between their fervent lips and grasping hands. Izzy still has one hand fisted in his shirt, pressing him firmly to the wood as Stede lets himself be overtaken.

Through the buzzing thrill in his mind, Stede's only coherent thought is Finally...

Then, soon after, More.

Stede uses his hold on Izzy's hips to guide him backward toward the bed, shifting a hand up to his back to steady him when he falters, and determinedly keeps up the kiss all the while.

Izzy gives in with delightful ease, falling back onto the mattress with a quiet groan when his legs hit the side. Stede crowds overs him, one hand on his neck to pull him closer while the other moves down to clumsily undo the straps of his prosthetic. Izzy huffs a laugh against his mouth as he struggles one-handed, but Stede eventually triumphs and sets it by the nightstand, swiftly finding his way back to Izzy's bared thigh to gently press his fingers into the tender muscle.

Little breathy moans of catharsis begin to escape Izzy's mouth into his, and Stede relishes them as he methodically works through the tension. That satisfaction doubles when Stede starts kissing down his neck, and those stifled little noises melt into cut-off groans as Stede buries his teeth in just how Izzy likes.

Stede would love to take his time here, to properly unmake Izzy piece by piece like he deserves, but by God he's waited long enough. He pulls back the slightest bit to see if Izzy's on the same page- and the dark tent of his leathers answers that instantly.

"Oh- goodness... Izzy? C-Can I-?"

"Yes." Stede isn't sure Izzy knew what he was going to ask, but he's fairly certain it wouldn't have made a difference.

Stede drops to his knees immediately, trying not to wince as his joints protests against the hard wood. Undeterred from his current objective, however, he makes quick work of Izzy's laces. When he finally gets them open, Izzy's already leaking cock looks nearly as eager as he is.

"Ah, there you are..." Stede breathes reverently, grin widening when Izzy quietly gasps at the warmth drafting over his tip. He's terribly attractive like this, all unkempt and roughed up from the spar, lips red and shining and bitten, his unmoving gaze piercing through Stede even under his hooded lids.

"Gonna draw a fuckin' picture later?" Well, no, but if Izzy would just once agree to Lucius sketching him- "Get the fuck on with it, Bonnet."

Stede wraps his hand around Izzy's cock obligingly, reveling in the minute twitch under his fingers, but he can't help pushing.

"You know I prefer when you call me Stede." He keeps his eyes locked defiantly to Izzy's, loathe to look away regardless.

Izzy scoffs, though it's validatingly forced. "And I prefer when my prick is in your mouth. What say we help each other out, Stede."

It's almost impressive, the way Izzy can challenge Stede even as he gives in. Hot, is what it really is.

Stede is more than happy to comply, and to hear Izzy's stifled groan as he drags his tongue up the underside of his length. 

Izzy leans back, bracing one hand on the bed behind him while the other finds its way into Stede's hair and grips. He doesn't move or urge him, just clutches like Stede is his only anchor in a raging storm.

Stede then gives in to the urge to take Izzy as far as he can into his mouth, working his tongue around him and being instantly rewarded by a muttered curse and the stinging twist of fingernails against his scalp. For a blissful moment, Stede is entirely consumed by Izzy; the salty musk flooding his mouth, the hot weight of him sliding deliciously over his tongue, his grounding hold at the back of his head.

God, but he missed this.

"Fuck, Bonnet-" Izzy is lucky Stede's mouth is too full to complain about the address, and that his surname still sounds really sexy in that voice. "S'nice to be reminded- that mouth is actually- good for something- fuck-"

Stede hums his upset this time, more for show as his chest warms with the praise, which just has Izzy hissing and tightening his grasp in Stede's hair- and that's much less objectionable.

As Stede sets his rhythm to Izzy's stifled twitches and growling whines, gazing up at his disheveled portrait through loosened curls, he's struck by the image of Izzy standing over him just moments ago. That wild blaze in his eyes, the barely concealed pride on his face, his rapier leveled at Stede's neck- Oh God, Stede can imagine it so clearly: Izzy's hand fisted securely in his hair like now, blade resting just shy of his throat as he takes Stede's mouth right there on the deck.

Stede's still-trapped cock strains desperately at the picture, and he shifts a hand down to palm at himself through his pants with a groan.

Izzy responds with a choked whine and an aborted thrust, grip tightening like he's just barely stopping himself from fucking into Stede's mouth. Well, that just won't do.

Stede hums again, laving his tongue over the head with a honed swirl before swallowing Izzy back down in a fluid motion- this time being met by Izzy's hips snapping up into the sensation. 

"Christ, Stede- fuckin'-nn-"

Those broken words grace Stede's ears sweeter than any symphony. 

He's still holding back, the typical white-knuckled clutching of his composure, but that just makes it all the lovelier for Stede to break through. 

And Stede is nothing if not determined, his hand stroking down past Izzy's thigh to caress every part of him left bare from Stede's bobbing mouth as he moves with renewed enthusiasm. 

He can feel Izzy coming undone beneath him, thigh muscles jumping under him as the shallow twitches of his hips steadily deepen, strangled curses spitting over his head. Stede finds himself thrusting against his own hand in time with Izzy pumping into his mouth.

He quickly loses himself to the simple pleasure of it all, the twin sensations of Izzy plundering his mouth as he ruts through his breeches overcoming any coherent thought in his mind.

Slowly, slowly, then all at once, Izzy is tensing up around him, the hand in his hair pushing him down with no reservation now as he rides his face in earnest. Stede lets himself go lax, more than happy to be used as he swallows eagerly around Izzy's pulsing cock.

"Fuck- Stede-"

Stede doesn't even realize he's reaching his own peak until it's crashing over him like a tidal wave, sudden and sharp and all-consuming as it surges through him, buoyed by dry friction and Izzy's desperate thrusts.

His hips are still weakly bucking when he resurfaces, his tongue still zealously savoring the spent length in his mouth- until Izzy's hand is ever so gently pulling his head back. 

Stede can't help the whine that escapes him as he's suddenly left bereft, doesn't have it in him to be embarrassed when Izzy is looking down at him like this. 

His face is beautifully flushed, a sheen on his forehead collecting bits of tousled hair, smoldering eyes half-lidded in satisfied pleasure. Stede stares back like it's the first time he's ever seen him, or like it may be the last.

After a heated second, Izzy rasps out, "Least you're improvin' in some of your fuckin' training." 

His thumb absently strokes over Stede's nape, a delightfully loose grin teasing his lips, and Stede glows.

"Fuck, fuckin'- c'mere..." 

Izzy is suddenly urging him upward, Stede helpless but to follow those insistent hands until he's catching himself over Izzy's splayed-out form on the bed.

Izzy pulls him down into a hungry kiss, bare and gloved hand alike finding their way under his clothes. Stede is briefly surprised, albeit quite pleasantly, because Izzy almost never keeps going once they've both come (efficient bastard he is).

However, by the time Stede realizes that Izzy doesn't know they both came, Izzy's hand is already faltering between his flagging cock and damp breeches.

Time grinds to a halt.

Izzy has gone entirely still beneath him, eyes widening almost imperceptibly as they flick between Stede's face and the hand still down his tarnished pants, several times over. They finally settle on the pants (Stede really isn't sure which was the worse option) and he blinks numbly.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Stede flinches back to himself at the strained words, embarrassment crashing through the afterglow and burning up his face as he pushes away on shaky arms. "Well-! I- I didn't- It's not as if I-"

His half-baked defenses are cut off by a yelp as Izzy grabs his shirt, yanking him back down into a searing kiss.

That yelp quickly becomes a moan when Izzy moves that clever mouth against his, hot tongue sweeping past Stede’s lips with ease as he devours him, hand snaking under his shirt to dig nails into his shoulder. It's a welcomed whiplash from the reaction Stede thought he was getting, and he kisses back ravenously before Izzy can change his mind.

"Just can't- fuckin' help yourself, eh?" Izzy taunts breathlessly against Stede's lips, the hypocrite.

Stede might feel defensive, if only Izzy didn't sound so gloriously ruined by the notion. "No- Not around- you, apparently."

Izzy groans into his mouth, followed by a frayed "Shut the fuck up, Bonnet." which, in that tone, always means keep fucking talking.

"What did you- expect?" The words flow of their own accord as Stede moves his attentions down Izzy's jaw, confidence bolstered by relief. "I've been holding out- for a week," basically, "and you're just dancing around- with your sword- and your leather-"  God, the picture he made out there. "I don't know- how I kept myself- from bending you over the capstan, really."

Izzy breathes shudderingly as Stede bites a kiss high on his throat. "Not very- practical." Is his labored response, nails in Stede's shoulder twitching and deepening his hold.

"But you're even more beautiful like this, you know." Stede whispers against his ear, relishing the shiver he clearly tries to suppress. "I missed this, having you spread out in my sheets, all pretty and wrecked for me- you like it this way too, hm?"

"Fuck-" Izzy's voice breaks beautifully on a whine as Stede's teeth graze over his ear. "-fuck off." 

It took Stede awhile to decipher the code of Izzy's mid-coitus vocabulary- he usually rotates between about four words, all negative, and they'd always get impossibly more negative when Stede abided them. Eventually, Stede learned, though it could've been accomplished with a lot less huffing and insulting if Izzy weren't allergic to intimate conversation. But, baby steps. 

Now, Stede is more focused on hearing every different way he can make Izzy say those words.

"Missed that too, gorgeous voice of yours." Izzy growls, as if to prove Stede's point. "So lovely, even when you're being nasty." He sucks another kiss into the juncture between jaw and ear, that place that makes Izzy whimper so exquisitely. "Lovelier when you're being sweet for me, though." 

Izzy doesn't even try to respond beyond the broken moan those words evoke, blunt nails still sunk into Stede's back like he's fighting being swept away. Stede can't help but crane his head to get a peek at Izzy's face, being rewarded with the wondrous sight of a deep flush and his screwed-shut eyes as he bares his neck in open invitation.

This is one of Stede's favorite games, unraveling Izzy to the tune of simple truths- and he'd daresay he's quite skilled in it, judging by his results.

"Oh, Izzy..."

Izzy bites his cheek harshly, but Stede still hears the keen caught in his throat.

It's too much, still not nearly enough.

Stede makes the executive decision to get them on the bed proper, lifting Izzy and shifting him with an ease he's secretly quite proud of. Luckily, it doesn't go unnoticed by Izzy, whose breathing stutters at Stede's readjustment- Stede is briefly concerned that he jostled his leg, but one look at Izzy's blown pupils and parted lips tells him the real cause.

Finding out that Izzy likes being handled sometimes was fairly predictable in hindsight, but finding out he likes being handled by Stede is endlessly amazing; and a privilege he doesn't take lightly.

"Goodness, you're just perfect."

Stede's hands start undoing Izzy's vest on instinct, sliding the buttons open with practiced ease as he hungrily reveals the sweaty shirt clinging to his stomach.

"Thought we already… covered this part." Izzy snarks muzzily, still leaning up to accommodate Stede pulling the vest off.

"Oh, just let me enjoy you, difficult little bugger." Stede shoots back heatlessly as he pushes Izzy's shirt up, slowing to caress the hairy skin beneath with the adulation it deserves.

In Izzy's unsurprisingly stunned silence, Stede can't help but mutter a bit petulantly. "Lord knows you haven't given me any chance lately."

When Stede looks back up, Izzy's face is caught between suspicion and open want, a cocktail familiar as it is baffling. His wide-narrowed eyes are trained on Stede with a thrilling intensity that makes his whole body warm.

Yeah, this was long overdue.

As Stede pulls Izzy's shirt over his head, Izzy automatically moving with him, he blinks and seems to come back to himself. His jaw clenches, gaze flashing away as a weak scowl overtakes his features.

"...don't need fuckin' distractions right now..."

Stede is flattered that the Izzy Hands considers him 'distracting'. "Well, I respectfully disagree."

"Fuck off." Contrary to his harsh words, Izzy tugs him down into a sweet kiss, slow and lingering, a savoring complement to their usual fervor.

As much as Stede loves when Izzy is rough and abrasive, he wouldn't trade these sweeter moments for the world; and he rarely gets to enjoy them before Izzy is scuttling off to clean himself up (in his definition of the word). God knows why he hasn't yet, but Stede damn well intends to enjoy it until he does.

When they sway apart for air, Stede starts pressing gentle kisses over his face, down his jaw, his neck, nibbling at his ear so he doesn't deem it too affectionate and get weird about it- and he grips Stede's shirt like a lifeline all the while, head pressed back into the pillows as he offers his throat.

Stede relishes it all; the light drag of weather-beaten skin under his lips as he murmurs adulations into it, the barely-stifled twitches of Izzy's body responding beneath him, coarse hair giving way to finer fuzz as he bites teasing kisses over his chest, Izzy's blunt nails indenting his skin even through his shirt- he documents every detail like a fearsome raid to be dictated; actually, might not be a bad idea, to start keeping a more... personal journal, just for him. Oh, a wonderful idea indeed...

He doesn't realize he's grinding himself on Izzy's thigh until it shifts under him, and Izzy bites back a groan.

"Christ, Bonnet. You're a fuckin' animal."

He doesn't sound displeased. Stede hums vague assent as his hips move with more purpose.

"Fuck- You gonna get off on my leg like a fuckin' dog, Bonnet?"

Stede isn't proud that he moans at that, hips stuttering enough for Izzy to notice, judging by his breathless laugh.

While Stede is still lost in that lovely sound, Izzy's hand buries into his hair and tugs him down until his lips are brushing his ear. Stede shivers as they move, and the pitch-dark purr that falls from them resonates through his whole body.

"Why don't you fuck me like a fuckin' man, Stede?"

Oh good lord. 

Stede doesn't need telling twice (not that he'd mind.)

He wastes no time in moving lower and shucking Izzy's pants the rest of the way off, mindful of his leg and getting a huff for it, then blindly fumbles through the nightstand drawer until he pulls back an oil vial.

When Izzy looks down to see Stede slicking up his fingers, he predictably gives another huff. "Seriously, Bonnet?"

Right, and Stede's the animal here.

He presses in with two fingers for Izzy's troubles, causing him to grunt and bring a hand to his mouth to stifle it.

"A man can still care for his partner's comfort, Izzy." Stede says pertly, lightly parting his fingers and making Izzy's thighs jump. "Don't be archaic."

Izzy huffs a laugh, muffled by the fist he's biting but nonetheless rewarding, and spreads his legs further in acquiescence. 

Stede stays mostly unhurried as he continues to stretch him, lax in his post-orgasmic arousal and just a tad keen on annoying Izzy some more. He lets his fingers pump and scissor lazily, occasionally deepening just enough to tease over that little spot that has Izzy's unbitten hand fisting in the sheets. On a particularly long drag, Izzy throws his head back, obscuring most of his face in the fluffy pillows, but baring his bobbing throat in a sumptuous display that has Stede's hand hastening without his permission.

"Oh, just look at you..."

Izzy's jaw ticks again, face pressing further into the pillows as his eyes screw tighter. Stede reaches out with his free hand on instinct, fingers slipping between Izzy's jaw and the bed to guide his face up toward him.

Izzy surprisingly lets him, glaring at Stede through fluttering, half-lidded eyes, the defiant fire within them undercut by the choked whine that wrings out of him. 

Stede is overcome, sliding a third finger in to speed along the process as he draws Izzy into a kiss. Izzy moans against his lips, beautifully uninhibited, and his hips jerk up in a suppressed thrust, which has his apparently hard length grazing Stede's stomach. 

Oh, Stede can't take much more.

He pulls back from the kiss to whisper into Izzy's beard. "Mm- Are- are you ready?"

Izzy sounds gratifyingly out of breath when he replies, "Stupid fuckin'- question."

"Right."

With ample reluctance, Stede withdraws his fingers and quickly shifts away to undo his own trousers, forgotten in his haste to savor. His shirt follows right after, so Izzy's nails will find skin instead of fabric.

He finds the oil again and drizzles a generous amount onto his cock, spreading it hastily before finally lining himself up with Izzy's hole and slowly sinking into him with a groan. Izzy mirrors it, now muted only by his clamped jaw as both his hands grasp against Stede's back with a delectable sting.

His head is buried in the pillows like he's hiding, though, and his eyes are closed again- not tight enough to be from pain, just to block out Stede.

He feels a sick pang in his stomach as he darkly wonders who Izzy is imagining in his place, who he's always picturing behind those sealed eyes when Stede is inside him- he's sure he could wager a right confident bet, actually- but he quickly tamps all that down.

Fine, as much as Stede wishes Izzy would actually look at him in these moments, he won't pass up the opportunity to admire what he's afforded unabashed.

Stede doesn't think he'll ever get tired of this sight, of Izzy laid out in his silk sheets, presented like a blade on a showing cushion. He looks so open and vulnerable like this, features broken in pleasure as he twitches around Stede's cock, yet there's a ferocity still written in every line of him. Goodness, he's just beautiful, just magnificent, resplendent, perfect-

"Fuck, Stede-" Izzy suddenly whines with faltering squirm that has Stede's grip tightening on his hips. "Shut up and- fuckin' get on with it."

Oh, well Stede is happy to comply on one front, at least. He hadn't realized he'd been talking, but he doesn't actually think he could stop now if he tried.

"There's really no rush, Izzy. Not like we've got somewhere else to be." Stede teases blithely, shifting his hips the barest inch to watch Izzy shudder. "And you know I was only joking about the stamina thing? Nothing for you to prove on that front, clearly; real problem is that you waste it all flitting about deck-"

"How 'bout save the fuckin' lecture for when your cock isn't in me." Izzy cuts him off dryly, still sounding delightfully wrung.

Right, priorities. "Agreed."

Stede punctuates his agreement with a steady draw back before snapping his hips forward and meeting Izzy's again with a grunt. Izzy's nails bite into his shoulders as he moans around the sensation.

"Oh, goodness, listen to you..."

Stede starts moving in earnest, gripping Izzy's hips in a vice as he moves them against each other, the warm velvet drag of Izzy surrounding him and pulling him back in with every pump, the sting in his back urging him closer, closer, faster-

"Harder."

Stede moans, his forehead dropping to Izzy's collar as he eagerly obeys the gritted command. One of Izzy's hands finds his neck, tangling into the curls by the base and gripping him ever tighter.

"Oh, my- You feel- feel so wonderful, Izzy- so good- fuck-"

Izzy whimpers into his throat, a glorious sound underscored by the scratch of his beard on sensitive skin. 

"Sound so- pretty for me, darling- mm-"

Izzy wriggles again and tightens around him with a sough, causing Stede's mindless praises to get lost in the crook of his neck as he buries his face there and shudders. Stede is sure his fingers are leaving bruises on Izzy's hips now, and he's already looking forward to watching them bloom.

"God, Izzy- so good- just- perfect, Izzy-"

It's been too long, far too long- how did he even live without this before?

He's speeding up now, that familiar fire rapidly blazing in his gut and driving him onward, and he finds his teeth dragging over Izzy's skin at every word; he can't help but sink them in.

"Fuck- Stede-"

A shiver wracks through Stede as he laves his tongue over the marks, and one of his hands quickly finds Izzy's swollen cock and swipes precum down the shaft in a practiced move which has Izzy's hips jerking.

"Say- say that again, Izzy."

Izzy mutters something, Stede can't make it out as Izzy's leg hooks over him and tightens, driving him even deeper.

"That a- fuckin' order- Captain?"

"Oh, Izzy-" Stede can already feel his hips stuttering, that heat in his belly growing and spreading with every pulse of Izzy's body around him, and he starts stroking Izzy's cock fiercely. "No idea- how lovely- you are- oh-"

Izzy huffs, barely masking his satisfied moan as his heel digs into Stede's back. "Just can't- fuckin' shut up- can you?"

"God- so wonderful, Izzy- just brilliant..."

"Fuckin'-" The hand in his hair is suddenly tugging him out of the haven of Izzy's throat and into a bruising kiss. Stede hums happily into it, fairly sure he's still talking but supremely incapable of focusing on it over the sheer rapture of Izzy's tongue ravaging him.

Stede could go on like this forever, wrapped up in the luxurious heat of Izzy, his entire being rendered down to only the feeling of slick warmth and grasping hands and Izzy's increasingly open moans of ecstasy, he'd happily live the rest of his life in this bed if it meant he'd keep Izzy under him like this- but, his body has other plans, fire coiling tighter inside him as his movements grow choppy and desperate.

Stede opens his mouth against Izzy's to ask, beg maybe, but Izzy is suddenly whining under him. "Just come in me, Stede, fuck."

And, fuck, that's all Stede needed to hear.

He spills into Izzy with a litany of praising moans even he can't decipher, lost in the sudden riptide of euphoria. For a blissful blip of eternity, all that exists is Stede inside Izzy, Izzy surrounding him in every way, sweat-slick skin gliding against each other as Stede pumps in and in and in...

All he can hear is his own heartbeat and Izzy's broken, punched-out mewls.

It's just heavenly.

Izzy whines again under him, and Stede fuzzily becomes aware of his hand still pumping Izzy's twitching cock, now covered in spend that glistens so deliciously in the lanternlight.

Mm...

He draws it up to his lips in a trance, tongue lapping the slick digits with veneration as he savors the deep tang of Izzy flooding his senses.

Izzy gasps, and then Stede is suddenly being pulled into another kiss, fingers momentarily caught between seeking lips.

They kiss languid and soft, hands trailing and tracing over lovebites as Stede stays snugly tucked inside of Izzy. Stede feels utterly content to let this moment stretch indefinitely, to linger in the ebbing warmth sparking between them as Izzy has his way with his mouth.

That is, of course, until the air starts to cool, and he's suddenly feeling more sticky than sated.

"Mm- ...Wait here." 

Stede pushes back to an annoyed grunt, pulling out with abundant reluctance before scampering over to the washroom. He hurriedly collects washcloths and soap, and an amount of clean water that Izzy shouldn't find too offensive, before rushing back out.

He's delightfully surprised to discover Izzy has actually listened, still laying splayed across the burgundy silk in a picture fit for museums, his smoky eyes tracking Stede's every move as he approaches. 

"Goodness..."

Stede can't help the breathless sigh that escapes him as he resettles onto the mattress. He soaks a cloth in the soapy pail, ensuring the temperature is agreeable before wringing it out and gently working it over Izzy's stomach.

He cleans him methodically, thorough as he admires his own handiwork and favors the tender spots that have Izzy's breath hitching. He's simply opulent in the warm glow of the lantern, all disheveled hair and flushed skin and bitten lips, just the outline of him could put the David to shame- but Stede doesn't say as much, his admiration overruled by the fear of spooking Izzy from this peaceful state, of sending him running for his cabin like so many times before. 

Stede glances up by chance as he's wiping Izzy's legs, and he's struck dumb by Izzy already staring down at him with an impossibly soft face. Good lord. Without thought, Stede's clean hand comes up to brush sweaty strands of grey hair from his dark eyes.

Izzy cocks a brow, but says nothing. Stede just beams up at him before getting back to work.

When he's finally satisfied- as if he could be with Izzy- Stede makes quick work of himself, eager for his next scheme as he pushes the washbin aside and withdraws one of his finer oils from the nightstand.

He clambers back into bed to squeeze in beside Izzy, who shockingly only grumbles wordlessly into the pillow and shifts to accommodate him- goodness, he must really be worn-out. 

Stede pulls the duvet up over them, another barrier between Izzy and the door, and slides away the portion covering Izzy's injured leg.

Izzy makes a questioning noise, but it soon melts into a groan as oiled fingers make purchase in the tense muscles of his thigh. His head falls back against Stede's shoulder, relief rumbling into Stede's own chest as his other hand automatically comes up to stroke through Izzy's hair.

Stede is over the moon; it's a grand struggle to keep his cool and stay his hands gentle over Izzy's leg.

It's made even grander by the hanging silence, broken only by Izzy's stifled grunts and moans, and Stede isn't sure how long he can take it.

"Goodness, you're just awfully tense." Is what comes out, and Izzy groans as his fingers find a particularly tough knot. "Oh, look at- You really have been working too hard, Izzy."

Izzy groans again, this one decidedly unpleased. "Christ, Bonnet, I wasn't serious about the fuckin' lecture."

Stede tuts. "Izzy, I worry for you."

"Fuckin'- Christ." Izzy shifts slightly, hands finding the mattress as if to push himself up, and a jolt of panic shoots through Stede.

"I worry for all my crew!" He hurriedly backpedals, hands tensing where they lay on Izzy- enough to discourage but not nearly enough to hold. "Just- It won't do, to- to have my first mate, working himself out of commission- and in the midst of crisis, no less."

Izzy stops moving at least, and Stede holds back a sigh of relief when he settles back against the bed with an aggravated huff. "I do what I do to keep us all alive, Bonnet."

Stede tuts again. "Well, I understand that, Izzy, but- but you could at least do some of it sitting down, couldn't you?" Izzy scoffs something akin to a laugh, but it isn't wholly mocking, and Stede is immediately re-emboldened. "Anyway, that's not just your responsibility, is it? The crew and myself are more than willing to lighten the load where we can- and, say what you will of me, but they've proven that they can. Mostly. Where it counts."

Izzy doesn't shoot back immediately, his hidden face wreaking havoc on Stede's mental state as the silence persists.

Finally, he rasps quietly, almost lost in the pillows. "Old habits, I s'ppose." 

Stede huffs an earnest laugh. Preaching to the choir, isn't he? Hell, Stede just helped him write a sermon in this bed.

"I hear you there." He sighs, deciding it's worth the risk to pull Izzy closer. It is; Izzy tucks into him, albeit still a bit stiff, and Stede's heart sings. "But, you know, nobody on this ship has to go through that alone." 

Izzy scoffs at that, but it's more tired than anything. "You got any idea how fuckin' sappy you sound?"

Stede hums affirmation as he buries his face in Izzy's hair, breathing in the lovely musk of sweat and coffee. "But I'm right."

Izzy huffs again, melting back against Stede as he returns his face into the pillow. "Maybe."

Well, Stede will take that for now.

He continues pampering Izzy in silence, wise enough to not push his luck any further as he gradually rubs through each knot marring Izzy's thigh. God, how does he even walk like this? He starts to work his way up his sides as well, his shoulders, his neck, keeping a steady hand petting his hair all the while- and Izzy just gets softer and softer beneath him.

It's downright peaceful.

Eventually- after minutes or hours, who could say- Stede realizes that Izzy's breathing has evened out, his body properly slumped onto Stede's.

He can hardly believe it at first, holding his own breath as he measures Izzy's against his chest. Then, Izzy makes this wonderful little sound, a quiet, needy mm pushing past his lips as he nuzzles into Stede's arm.

Oh good lord. 

Izzy's hand twitches, fingers jumping to close the bare space between his and Stede's own. Stede grasps back immediately, pulling Izzy even tighter against him and eliciting a pleased hum that has his whole body going warm.

This day just gets better and better.

Suddenly overcome by the exhaustion of their evening as well, Stede can do little more than admire the rising moonlight outlining the hook of Izzy's nose as he begins to drift into his own slumber. His peace is briefly disturbed by an insistent growl of his stomach, but he ignores it in favor of keeping Izzy asleep on him; he makes a hazy mental note to order double rations for the both of them tomorrow.

Oh, he's already feeling fuzzy at the idea of sharing a sleepy breakfast with Izzy in his cabin, at just the picture of Izzy all mussed and tender on his couch- which, naturally, leads him to so many more delicious ideas of what he could do with a slumber-rumpled Izzy in the lazy morning light.

Stede falls asleep to warmth tucked into his chest and the rosy fantasy of Izzy awaking in his arms.

...Come the next morning, Stede wakes to an empty bed and the gentle sway of the ship finally moving.

Well. Can't win them all, he supposes. Though this certainly wouldn't be his choice of victory.

At least now, with wind in their sails and heaps in their stores, Izzy won’t have a reason to skip the double rations Stede plans to foist on him momentarily. Convincing him to share it in Stede's quarters will be another battle entirely, though one Stede intends to fight to its bitter end.

He can win most of them, at least.