Stede swallows the sour little seed of unease that settles in his throat. Why should he worry about Izzy? The man's been nothing but a complete asshole since the moment they met. No matter how hunky he may be... Stede shudders at the thought, pouring Ed a fresh cup of tea to replace the last one, long since gone cold. It's not Stede's problem. It's not Stede's fault.

Izzy can look after himself.

There's something wrong with Izzy's head. There was something in that ale but he doesn't know what. Surely it should have worn off by now. He blinks, tries to focus. It's not that he doesn't feel, exactly. It's more like... like everything he does feel is wrapped up in a heavy blanket. It's stifling. Fucking suffocating, really. Terror runs through his veins like an electric current, white hot and urgent and yet...
When he tries to reach for a plan, an idea, hell, even for the fucking impetus to strangle himself with the cords binding his wrists and ankles, the urgency slips away. Hornigold comes in and out. There's no rhyme or rhythm to when he comes, at least not as far as Izzy can tell with his head stuffed full of cotton. He refuses to try to figure it out anyway. It's just another fucking game. Hornigold always loved games.

He knows what's coming. Been expecting it since the moment he heard that fucking voice. Surprised it took this long really, but that's just another of Hornigold's games, isn't it? Izzy fucking hates games

It feels like the middle of the night when the door to his little cell clangs open. He'd just managed to finally drift towards sleep. Should have expected that, he reflects. Ben never liked to give him time to brace himself

Izzy can't help the way he startles, but he fights to get his breath back under control. It's been a long time. He's not the man Hornigold knew, young and afraid. Israel Hands is a name that means something now--people fear him now. He won't be broken open by the likes of Benjamin fucking Hornigold. Not again.
Hornigold stinks of rum, sickly sweet in the confines of the brig. Izzy wonders how much he's had, if it'll be enough to stop him getting it up. He hopes not --that always made things worse somehow. Izzy grunts as Hornigold wraps a hand in his hair again, dragging him up to his knees. He breathes in, breathes out, slow and even. The blurry place he used to go for this evades him. It's been so long. Breathe in, breathe out.
He shuffles on his knees as Hornigold half-drags him to the side of the room, pushing him against the wall. Breathe in, breathe out. It's nothing new. Ben always liked it when he was trapped. Nowhere to go, no way to fight. It doesn't fucking matter, Izzy thinks. Just more of the same. He wonders if Hornigold would bleed out if he bit his fucking dick off. Izzy probably wouldn't make it off this ship alive. He doesn't care.
Izzy's head snaps back, thudding into the wall behind him as Hornigold backhands him casually. Breathe in, breathe out. His breath sounds ragged. His knees ache, uneven wood planks digging in as Hornigold pulls out his pistol and presses it to Izzy's temple. His mouth twists, displeased, when Izzy doesn't flinch. Izzy feels a little satisfaction at that. He's not a fucking boy anymore. Hornigold fumbles with his trouser buttons.
Izzy breathes in, breathes out. Hornigold smirks as he pulls out his cock. Izzy focuses on the ache in his knees, the cold of the gun's muzzle against his head. He can still do it. He just has to bite faster than Ben can pull the trigger. Breathe in, breathe out. Hornigold grabs him by the chin, forcing his face up, squeezing too hard as he looks into his eyes. His thumb traces Izzy's lower lip, a nauseating parody of intimacy.
"They tell me it'll take a few days to know if it's working, little bird,"' he says. Izzy's chest feels hollowed out. He's glad his hands are tied behind his back for this. He doesn't want this fucker to see them shake. Hornigold grins, wrapping his hand in Izzy's hair again, tight enough that tears spring to Izzy's eyes. "But that doesn't mean you and I can't get to know each other again in the meantime. I've missed you, Israel."

Izzy's lip curls in a snarl. Hornigold laughs, hand tightening in Izzy's hair until he can't help but whimper

"Now," Hornigold says, voice cold. "Open your mouth."

Breathe in, breathe out. Izzy can do this. He can do this. Hornigold cocks the pistol

"You'll be good for me, won't you, little bird?" Hornigold says, smiling indulgently. "What do you think Mr. Teach would say if I left your corpse at the next port for him to find?"

Izzy's eyes fly back to Hornigold's face. Hornigold gives him a sympathetic smile. Izzy wishes he could rip the fucker's throat out with his teeth.

"Always a little fragile isn't he, your Captain Blackbeard," Hornigold says. Breathe in, breathe out. His cock bobs in front of Izzy's face, hard and red. It brushes the tip of Izzy's chin and he tries to turn his face away. Hornigold's hand fisted in his hair holds him in place.

"Now," Hornigold says, with a confidence Izzy fucking wishes were unwarranted. "Open."

Breathe in, breathe out. Izzy closes his eyes, lets his mouth fall open. The wood floor digs into his knees, splinters and whorls. His fingers scrabble at the wall behind him, the same wood. Cold steel of the pistol at his temple. Breathe in, breathe out, and Hornigold drags him onto his cock, thrusting forward, pinning Izzy against the wall.

Izzy chokes, drool spilling out his mouth and down his chin as Hornigold's cock bullies its way down his throat. Hornigold groans, thrusting fast and hard. At least he's not trying to make it last, Izzy thinks distantly.

"Open your eyes," Hornigold growls, the gun at Izzy's head digging in painfully. "Open your fucking eyes, slut."

Izzy can't find the rhythm of his breathing anymore. The hand in his hair twists cruelly.

He opens his eyes. Above him, Hornigold grins

"Such a good little whore," he says, breathless. He's getting close. This, at least, Izzy knows how to finish. He looks up into those cold, blue nightmare eyes and swirls his tongue around Hornigold's cock as he pulls out and then thrusts back in. Hornigold moans, hips stuttering as Izzy hollows his cheeks, lips soft as the hard shaft of Hornigold's cock forces its way down his throat

Hornigold moans and the hand in Izzy's hair tightens again, pulling him back off his cock. Come spurts across Izzy's still-open mouth, salty bitter and too familiar, hot against his cheek, over the bridge of his nose. Hornigold drags him forward again, grinding his softening cock against Izzy's face, smearing come and sweat and spit. Finally, he sighs, satisfied. He holsters his gun, hand in Izzy's hair holding him up when he sags

"I see you still haven't forgotten your little tricks," Hornigold sneers. "You really were born for this. But of course, deep down, you know that, don't you Israel?"

Izzy doesn't respond. He stares past Benjamin Hornigold, through him. Come and whatever else are cooling on his skin, sticky and foul. When he gets out of here, he'll find an inn with a tub and scrub until every inch of him feels clean again. He's going to get out.

Hornigold lets go of Izzy's hair, watches impassively as Izzy slumps to the floor at his feet.

"Get some rest, little bird," he says as he turns to leave. "I'll be back. I want to take my time with you."

Izzy stares at the wood floor under his face, memorizing the wood grain, the feel of it, ignoring the cooling come on his face, the smell of Ben Hornigold all around him. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Almost two full days pass while Stede dithers. Ed is no help at all, curled up in bed, barely responding when Stede tries to get him to talk.

"Maybe... maybe he doesn't want to be found," he says quietly, once, when Stede tries to press him, to get him to participate in the search, or at least acknowledge it. Given what Stede knows about the time before he returned, it's not an unreasonable question. Maybe Izzy just left.

Something about that doesn't sit quite right with Stede, though, and so he sends the crew into town again. No one seems willing to answer their questions. In retrospect, Stede probably should have paid more attention to that.

It's Buttons, in the end, who gets them out of port. Buttons, who comes to the captains' quarters early on the morning of the third day, standing in a slightly off kilter parade rest at Stede squints at him.

"I've news, cap'n, of Mr. Hands," he says, staring at a point somewhere beyond Stede's shoulder. "But I'm afraid ye're not gonna like it much."

On the bed, Ed shifts, turning a tear stained face to the door as he listens, dark circles under his eyes somehow only making him more beautiful. Buttons pauses, either for dramatic effect or, unsettlingly, to listen to something that Stede can't hear

"Well? Out with it, man!" Stede says

Buttons sighs, glancing at Ed and then looking away again.

"I've heard rumours," he says, cryptic, "of a Captain Hornigold passing through this port, cap'ns. A regular, ye might say. Certainly well known enough to pay a tavern wench to slip something into a man's drink, if ye get my drift."

Stede listens, jaw slack. Hornigold. He recognizes that name, though it takes him a moment to place it. Ed's old captain. Stede frowns.

He turns back to Ed, hoping for a more thorough explanation. What on earth would his former captain want with Israel bloody Hands? Kidnapping the disagreeable little man seems like more trouble than it's worth. Perhaps some kind of aggressive recruiting tactic? If Izzy wants to accept a new job, Stede certainly won't stand in his way...

The look on Ed's face stops Stede in his tracks. He looks like a child suddenly, eyes wide and full of tears.

He meets Stede's gaze and a few tears spring free, rolling fat and iridescent down his cheeks. His mouth works soundlessly for a moment before he finally manages to force a word out. It sounds hollow. Despairing.

"Izzy."

Ed pulls the blankets tight around him and rolls over, hiding his face. Stede watches his shoulders shake. The kernel of unease rises up his throat again, lodging there as he realizes with an uncomfortable lurch: he needs to save Izzy

Time bleeds together for Izzy. He knows it's been more than a day. Two days, maybe? A young sailor brings him some water, holds a ladle to his lips. It has the same musky taste as the watery ale in that fucking pub. Izzy turns his head, cursing and the sailor grabs him by the hair, forcing the ladle between his lips. Izzy chokes and splutters, the water spilling over his face and down his throat. The sailor forces him to drink, again and then again.

Finally, the sailor tosses the ladle back into the bucket. He leaves Izzy gasping and shivering on the floor of his cell

Izzy sleeps. The sound of Hornigold throwing open the door catches him by surprise. He gasps, tries to roll away. Hornigold grabs hold of the rope around his ankles and drags him across the floor. Izzy's mind is foggy. Movements feel sluggish, dreamlike, not under his control. He kicks and struggles. Hornigold laughs, pins him easily

Izzy squirms, grunting in pain as Hornigold presses his face into the floor with one hand, yanking at the laces on his trousers with the other. Izzy hears a whine building in his own throat. Panic bubbles under his skin, fog in his mind hanging heavier. He feels out of control, doesn't want to give Hornigold this, his fucking fear, his pain. He wants to lock it inside, lie silent and stiff as Ben does the same fucking shit he always does. He can't.
He doesn't know what the fuck was in that ale, what the fuck was in the water they gave him earlier but, fuck, he can't hide. His breath comes too fast, arrhythmic. Hornigold shoves Izzy's trousers down around his knees, pulls out his own cock. He stretches out over Izzy's back, hands roaming across his skin, squeezing and pinching, laughing at the terrified little whimpers that force their way out of Izzy's throat. He grabs Izzy's hips, tilting them up

"Oh, little bird," he says quietly, close enough for Izzy to feel Hornigold's breath on his ear as he speaks. "No one takes me like you do."

In one brutal thrust, he drives himself home in Izzy's cunt.

Izzy screams.

Izzy grits his teeth as Hornigold pounds into him, feeling himself split open on the man's cock and, fuck, he feels like a fucking cabin boy again, like the past 20 years were nothing but a dream. How could they have been real? How did he ever become anything but a toy for a fucking monster, pinned on the floor under the old man's weight. A lump builds in his throat as Hornigold fucks him like a rag doll and he tries to swallow it down, stay silent.
A sob breaks free despite him, and then another. He pushes his forehead into the floor as tears roll down the bridge of his nose, dripping onto the floorboards. Hornigold groans, pushing a hand between Izzy's shoulderblades, fucking him faster, harder. Ben always liked it when he cried. Izzy can't stop. He balls his hands into fists, fingernails digging into skin of his palms, the pain bright and startling, different from the aching stretch in his cunt.
It's almost enough to distract him as Hornigold moans, burying himself to the hilt as he comes deep in Izzy's cunt. He stays there for a moment, breathing hard, stroking Izzy's hair, then tugging it, pulling his face to the side so he can run a thumb through the tear tracks on Izzy's cheek. Izzy shudders, sobs again as he feels Hornigold's cock slip free of him, hot come spilling out his cunt and onto his thighs. Hornigold tucks himself away casually.

He smacks a hand down on Izzy's ass, hard, laughing when Izzy jumps, crying out.

"Always so sensitive, boy," he says, gripping Izzy's ass hard enough to bruise, then smacking it again. "Thought you might have toughened up after all these years. Should have known better, eh?"

Izzy says nothing, squeezes his eyes shut. Ben's done. He's done and he'll leave, that's how this works. Hornigold doesn't move. Izzy's heart pounds in his chest, panic thrumming.

He feels Hornigold's fingers tracing the soft folds of his cunt, jerks in surprise, trying to pull away. Hornigold grabs him by the hair again, smacking his head against the floor, holding him there. He plays with Izzy's cunt casually, scooping up his come and pushing it back inside.

"Should have gotten a bastard on you 20 years ago, shouldn't I, little bird?" he says, conversational. "A bit late now, but no reason not to try."

Izzy doesn't move.

Ice cold terror freezes him in place as Hornigold's fingers press inside, twisting painfully in his already aching cunt.

"Now, I think we've waited quite long enough, don't you?" Hornigold says. "It's high time you and I had a conversation."

He leans down, lips by Izzy's ear as he shoves his fingers deeper into Izzy's cunt, making Izzy whimper and squirm.

"And for once, little bird, you won't be able to lie to your captain."

*

It takes half a day to get the Revenge underway--the currents are not in their favour. Stede doesn't let himself think about what that means, the fact that Hornigold has three full days' lead on them. Buttons seems confident about their heading, though the fact that a seagull seems to be his primary advisory raises some questions. The rest of the crew don't hesitate. They watch intently as Buttons stands on the ship's rail, squinting at the horizon.

He licks a finger holds it up in the air, hums, sniffs the finger and grimaces.

"They're headed due east," he says at last. "They've had a fine wind--we'll have to move quickly if we hope to catch 'em, cap'n!"

The crew is already moving as Stede gives the order to set a course due east. He sidles up next to Buttons, standing at the helm.

"Um," he says. "If I may ask. The, uh... the business with your finger. Is that something I could learn, perhaps?"

Buttons looks at him sideways, frowning.

"Oh that? Nay, cap'n. I were just making sure it were mine," he says, as if that explains anything. "It's Livvy as gave me the directions--she's offerin' us a bird's eye view, if ye catch my drift."

"O-oh," Stede says, and then, falsely, "I see."

Buttons just nods, eyes fixed on the horizon. Above them, the sails billow and snap as they catch the wind, and the ship moves at a steady clip through the harbour.

"Well," Stede says, "I suppose I'll just... I'll just go and check on Edward then, shall I?"

He moves slowly towards the companionway, looking around for something useful to do. The crew seem totally absorbed in their own tasks. Their focus since Stede told them Izzy'd been abducted has taken him by surprise. When he called the crew together to propose a rescue mission, well... he expected more of a fight, if he's honest. Izzy's never been popular.

But there was no mistaking the genuine concern on Frenchie's face, the way Jim spat and crossed themself before asking for a plan of action. Everyone on board seemed shaken by Izzy's absence, and Stede finds himself suddenly ashamed that he expected anything less. A little voice in the back of his head tells him he expected them to respond the way he did at first--with relief, with pleasure even. The thought makes his stomach turn and he hurries below.

He may not be able to do much for Izzy at the moment, but he can at least try to look after Edward.

*

Ed stares into the dark. He's curled on his side, blankets pulled tight around him. The cabin is stuffy, too hot. A drop of sweat rolls down his forehead. He shut the windows as soon as Stede went above, the curtains, too. He's seen men sweat to death before. Doesn't seem like a bad way to go, at least not compared to a lot of options. Ed shivers.

Benjamin Hornigold is back. As if he ever fucking left, the bastard. They'd stayed out of each other's territory for years, a wary detente. It always felt fragile to Ed. And now...

Now Hornigold has Izzy. Ed shivers again, pulls the blankets tighter around him. He has to do something, make some sort of plan. Izzy was always running after him, wanting a fucking plan and now... now Izzy's gone, and Hornigold's back, and Ed doesn't have a fucking plan.

Hell, at the moment, he doesn't have a fucking prayer. He squeezes his eyes shut and drifts back down into sleep.

*

Izzy can smell Hornigold's breath, rum and pipe smoke and decay. Hornigold's fingers, still twisting inside him, are rough and thick and Izzy can't help the pained whine that slips out when another one forces its way inside him.

"Now then, Israel," Hornigold says, for all the world like they're having a civilized chat in his quarters.

"You're a man with a reputation, aren't you?" There's a laugh in Hornigold's voice and Izzy grits his teeth, jaw aching as he fights the urge to scream. "A man of the world."

He curls his fingers inside Izzy, the feeling of it in his already-raw cunt fucking unbearable. Izzy makes a high, animal noise, tears starting down his cheeks again.

"A man like you certainly has information that would be useful to a man like me," Hornigold continues, unphased.

Izzy snarls, trying to kick, trying to roll away. Hornigold plants a knee in the small of his back, pinning him, hand in his hair still forcing his face against the floor.

"Ah, ah, ah," Hornigold says. "You're going to answer my questions, little bird. You don't have a choice."

Izzy shakes his head--he doesn't know what nonsense Hornigold is on about, but he won't be telling him a fucking thing, that's for damned sure.

"Oh, but you will, Israel."

Fuck. Izzy's heart pounds in his throat. He didn't say that out loud. He didn't. He's fucking sure of it, he knows how to bite his fucking tongue, he...

Hornigold is laughing.

"Of course you do, little bird," he says. "Under any other circumstances, I'm sure you'd die before giving up any of Teach's secrets. But it's not up to you now."

Hornigold leans in closer, breath foul against Izzy's face.

"It's up to me, my wayward little bedwarmer."

"Now," Hornigold says, smug, "what is Teach's next heading? Where is he planning to raid?"

And Izzy could fucking laugh, would if Hornigold's fingers in him weren't enough to make him puke instead, because he doesn't know. Edward hasn't discussed strategy with him in fuckin' months. Izzy's aware of his babbling now, hears himself repeating, over and over

"Don't know, don't know, hah, I don't... don't fuckin' know, fuckin' never talks to me anymore..."

Hornigold sighs, irritated, and Izzy wants to pull away from him, knows nothing good has ever come of that fucking sound, not for him at least, but he's trapped. Just like Ben likes it. Ben's fingers twist in him and he realizes he's babbling again. Useless fucking nonsense pours out of him, "No, please, stop, stop, it hurts, please," Hornigold's little laugh over top of it and Izzy's voice breaks on another sob.

"Now, now, Israel, don't make a fuss."

"The king likes it better when I catch pirates in the act, of course," Hornigold murmurs. "Makes for a better story, you know. But don't you worry, my little bird. It will make a marvelous story no matter how I catch the legendary Blackbeard."

And that is so fucking stupid that Izzy realizes he is laughing, a high-pitched, mirthless sound.

"Fuckin' won't," he mutters, knowing he should keep his mouth shut, not even trying anymore. No fucking point now

"You'll never... he's... he's fuckin' smarter than you, you evil old prick," he gasps, then groans as Hornigold slams his face down into the wood. Blood flows hot from his nose as he laughs.

"But don't you see, little bird?" Hornigold says through his teeth. "He'll come for you. His loyal dog. Won't he?"

The laugh turns to a sob halfway through, Izzy almost dizzy with elation even as the weight of despair bears down on him with crushing certainty.

"No," Izzy says, feeling the truth of it in his bones. "He's not coming for me."

The pain of that certainty, the joy of knowing this bastard will never lay eyes on Ed again, overwhelm him, face down on the floor under the only man he's ever really feared. It's almost a relief when Hornigold drags him up by his hair, and sends him crashing down into the deck again. Unconsciousness embraces him like an old friend.

Izzy wakes to more foul tasting water pouring down his throat, over his face. He chokes, trying to turn his head away, and the sailor holding the ladle laughs, jeering at him. Izzy's vision blurs, head throbbing. He squints, trying to focus on man crouched in front of him. He's nondescript, totally uninteresting in his cruelty, his willingness to inflict pain. Izzy fights the fog in his mind, the heaviness of his limbs. His arms and legs are still bound
Not much he can do like this, on the floor of a fucking cell. His pants are bunched around his knees, skin between his thighs tacky with dried come. He wonders if Ben had him again while he was out cold. Wouldn't be the first time. The sailor tosses the ladle back in the bucket, leans in close, his smile a pale imitation of Hornigold's. A young protégé, no doubt--he'd last as long as all the rest. A few months at most before Ben decides he's a threat.

For now, though, the bastard's flying high.

"Captain says we can have you when he's finished," the man sneers, face too close to Izzy's. Not close enough to bite, sadly. Izzy stares at him thoughtfully for a moment and then, without warning, spits in his face. The man reels back, shocked, then shouts in rage. He grabs Izzy by the hair and for a moment Izzy wonders if he might get lucky, if this stupid fucker might just kill him and have done with it.

"That's enough, Jeremiah."

Hornigold stands in the door, light behind him casting his face in shadow.

"But sir...!" the sailor, Jeremiah, protests. Foolhardy, then. Izzy revises his estimate--the lad'll be lucky to last a few weeks, let alone months. Ben's standards have fallen. For now, he just shakes his head, and Jeremiah falls silent, sulking

"Not to worry, lad," Hornigold says. The kindness in his voice makes Izzy's skin crawl. "I'll handle him"

Jeremiah gives Izzy another nasty little smile, wiping the spittle from his face as he leaves. He closes the door behind him, and then Izzy is alone with Hornigold again. Hornigold stands over him. He's backlit by lantern light. Izzy can't see his face, can't judge his mood. It doesn't matter, he tells himself, willing his heart to stop pounding. There's no fucking mood that would make him safe from this fucker anyway, so why should he fucking care?

Hornigold nudges him with his boot, rolling him over to his back. He shakes his head, the movement exaggerated, everything a performance with him.

"I'm afraid I can't let disrespect like that stand, Israel," he says mournfully, as if he genuinely regrets whatever he's about to do. As if he wouldn't have found an excuse no matter what Izzy did. Just another fucking game. Izzy's breath speeds up, out of his control. Fear makes a hollow pit in his chest.

His eyes follow the motion as Hornigold's hands go to his belt. He still can't see the bastard's face, not properly, as if this didn't already feel like a fucking nightmare. Izzy wants to scream and scream and scream until he wakes up. Hornigold pulls the belt loose, wrapping one end around his fist. Izzy hears himself babbling again, can't fucking stop it, feels fucking sick with it.

"No, no, no, please, Ben, please, don't, I won't, please..."

Hornigold clicks his tongue, grabbing Izzy by the hair again, pulling him up to his knees

"Hush now, boy," Hornigold says firmly. "I know you haven't forgotten my rules. I won't have lax discipline on my ship."

Izzy whimpers as Hornigold drags him to a low wooden bench at the side of his cell, manhandling him until he's draped over it, ass in the air. He shudders at the feeling of exposure. Hornigold's fingers stroke over his ass, the slit of his cunt

Izzy's breath comes in short, panicked gasps, tears already falling. He doesn't try to fight them this time.

"I would ask you to count," Hornigold says coolly, "but I haven't decided how many I'll give you yet."

Izzy writhes, panicked, words pouring out of him again, pure fucking terror, "Wait, wait, please, Ben, please, don't--!"

The belt whistles through the air, cracking across the meat of Izzy's ass. He doesn't scream--he chokes, gasping for air.

The belt cracks down again, giving him no time to brace, no time to prepare as it catches the tops of his thighs, the lips of his cunt. Izzy wails, back spasming, as the belt comes down again and again. He shakes, sobbing, beyond begging, nothing left in his mind but the burning pain in his ass, his thighs, his cunt. This might kill him, he thinks. In one desperate moment of clarity, he hopes it does. And then the belt strikes again, driving out thought
@IzzysNplPiercin this is so hot and so angsty and i fucking LOVE IT.
@Seventh thank youúuu, I'm so glad you're enjoying it, it is my horniest angst
@IzzysNplPiercin This is BRUTAL Nips you are amazing
@waywardaf thank youuuu, this one is eating up my brain atm!