‘ * 𝖘𝖎𝖗 🖤 , gentlepyrate .
" did i say you could open your mouth? "
as impolite as he is being, stede had put a great deal of effort into making sure they wouldn't be interrupted beforehand, by anyone except ed, who is of course, allowed to come and go as he pleases, going over colors and consent, as always. now, though, he is allowed free reign, knowing izzy will pull him back in if he needs to, and stede would never go to lengths that he thinks israel wouldn't be comfortable with.
he's not sure there is such a thing that izzy would be uncomfortable with that stede wouldn't call off first, but.
he's tied izzy in an intricate harness, fully unclothed, his hands behind his back and attached to one of the legs of his desk, his ankles together. he is being kept on his knees as stede works. ed had entered as he is allowed, and he and stede had begun politely discussing ship's business. israel had spoken, without permission.
stede's hand comes to the back of izzy's head, tangling in the roots of his hair and pulling him back so his chin tilts up. stede tilts his own head too so he can examine israel from this angle, looking down at him curious and stern.
" keep it open, then, " stede says, and the thumb of his free hand moves to push past izzy's lips, forcing his jaw open and mouth wide. stede spits directly onto his tongue, uncaring that part fell onto his own thumb, israel's lip. he carelessly wipes it off of himself on izzy's chin, leaving a shining trail leading into his goatee. he smiles, bringing his thumb over izzy's cheek like tracing a beloved object.
" it's ten spanks if you close your mouth before i tell you to, " stede informs izzy, adoration thick in his tone. " let your captains talk and behave now, pup. "
they’d gone over the rules before, talked it through along with their colors, because as much as izzy likes being tied down it causes a bit of discomfort at the idea of being vulnerable; what is he supposed to do if they are attacked, how is he supposed to protect them ? stede had reassured him, soothed those worries away with gentle caresses as he worked knots into rope over leather, let israel drop into that comfortable space where it wasn’t for him to worry about. not right now. stede has them, ed’s above deck, nothing will happen and if it does there is a blade in the upper right drawer that israel had sharpened himself, that would free him if they needed it to.
there is something in being ignored, expected to sit and behave himself and having no choice but to do so, knees aching against the far too expensive wood flooring in the captain’s quarters. he listens, ed comes and goes three times making idle conversation with stede, and izzy wonders what it might be like to have other people enter, to see this specific display, or to rut against stede’s leg like the dog his lover so often refers to him as, or what might be going on above deck, these thoughts come and go in waves, depending on stede’s positioning above him, where his legs sit or if he feels eyes on him, as well as if they’re alone or not. it’s the fourth time blackbeard enters that isreal speaks up.
it’s a simple correction, hardly more than two sentences before he can stop himself. he hardly realizes he’s broken a rule until stede’s gaze is on him. isreal shuts his mouth with an audible snap, clicking his teeth as he forces himself into silence. no apology, he doesn’t want to break the rule again, not with those eyes on him, that look on the captain’s face. there is a hand in his hair, tilting his head back, a finger in his mouth halts whatever he was going to say next, prying his jaw apart, splitting his mouth open in a wide O. izzy let’s it happen, doesn’t fight, or try to bite down into the sensitive skin, rather enjoys the sensation of newly calloused skin on his tongue, and then. . . bonnet spits in his fucking mouth.
there is a thrill to doing this with stede, or rather to have the gentleman pirate do this to him. from edward it could be expected, violence and intimacy go hand in hand within their dynamic, two sides of the same coin. but with stede, who preaches kindness and softness and gallantry, it’s unexpected, new. israel leans his head back against the leg of the desk, pupils blown wide leaving little more than a thin ring of color in his eyes, mouth open. he waits for perhaps five minutes, allows his captains to continue their discussion, for stede to fall into the comfortable flow of a back and forth with edward, about the ship before snapping his jaw shut with purpose, letting his teeth click as he snaps his mouth closed. an act of defiance, a cry for attention.