Izzy hopes like hell they take it, even as he's almost certain Jim won't leave without him. Even Olu probably won't abandon him. Idiots. They should get out while they can. Two more men lunge at him, their movements clumsy. He slits one's throat with the tip of his sword, stepping back and plunging it into the guts of the next and then pulls--

Fuck.

His sword is stuck in this stupid bastard's ribs. The man stares at him, mouth agape as he dies.

Izzy shoves at him ineffectively, trying to pull it free, fucking fuck, he doesn't have time for this shit and... Cold steel at his throat stops him short. An arm wraps around his waist, foul breath on the back of his neck as someone laughs.

"Hornigold'll be very grateful to have his little bedwarmer returned to him," the man growls, drags Izzy backwards, and Izzy reaches towards the knife at his belt. A spray of hot blood over his shoulder stops him.

He stands for a moment, frozen, waiting to feel the life pouring out of him and then--

"Don't worry, I've got you!"

Strong, familiar arms wrap around him, sweeping him up and carrying him back from the fray. He sees Jim and Olu on the other side of the room, Olu shouting something as he drags Jim towards the exit, Jim fighting and cursing, looking back towards Izzy. Stede turns, and Izzy loses sight of them. There's a door at the back of the room.

Stede pushes it open, rushing out into the open air of the alley just as gunfire erupts behind them, quickly followed by shrieks of terror. Well. Sounds like Jackie's back. Stede rushes headlong down the alley, still clutching Izzy in his arms. His eyes are wild, green coat sleeves stained dark with blood. There's a spray of blood across his face and neck, too, his hair askew, cravat rumpled and stained.

"Put me down, you fucking twat!" Izzy snaps.

Stede stops in his tracks. They're about three streets away from Jackie's, tucked into a quiet alleyway.

"Sorry!" he says, setting Izzy on his feet, and then again, "Sorry!"

He looks around, eyes darting in a way that can only be described as the literal opposite of surreptitious. Izzy glares at him, shaken and, now that he has a moment to think about it, in pain. His ribs, still healing, throb with every inhalation. Still, he can breathe at least.

He looks Stede up and down, taking in the silk suit, the carefully coiffed, if now ruined, hair.

"God, you fucking twat, I can't believe you wore that to the fuckin' Republic of Pirates, are you trying to get yourself killed?" he hears himself snap. Stede flushes, looking away, and Izzy looks him up and down, taking in the ruined silk and lace cuffs, the blood-stained dagger clutched in his hand.

"Well, I-- that is, I thought this was a bit more--"

"Oh, shut up," Izzy says and then, before he can reconsider, shoves Stede into the rough stone wall of the alley, and kisses him.

*

"Fuck, Olu, what the fuck are you doing!" Jim shouts as Olu pulls them up the stairs, out into the street. They pass Jackie on her way down, pistol drawn, flanked by two large husbands. God help anyone in that bar.

"Jim, come on! Izzy's with Stede--we'll find them after we get out of here!"

Jim curses, but follows Olu.

*

For a moment, Stede thinks Izzy's going to bite him. That seems somehow to make more sense than this, Izzy's lips pressed against his, his hands on Stede's shoulders, pinning him against the wall. For a moment, Stede doesn't respond. He feels Izzy hesitate, start to pull back. Oh. Oh hell. This really is happening isn't it? Before Izzy can pull away, Stede wraps his arms around his waist, holding him gently but firmly as he finally kisses him back.

Stede kisses Izzy's throat. Izzy tilts his head back, hands tangling in Stede's hair, the feel of Stede's lips behind his ear, trailing down towards his collarbone shooting through him like lightning.

"I-- fuck," he gasps, and then he reaches between them, fumbling with the buttons of Stede's trousers. "Please. I want to suck your dick."

"Oh!" Stede says as Izzy pulls his cock free. "I-- that is, you don't have to-- please, don't feel obligated..."

"Please let me," Izzy says, sinking to his knees, staring up at Stede with those fascinating green eyes.

"Well, I mean, far be it from me to-- ah!" Stede's voice cuts off as Izzy leans forward, one hand holding the base of Stede's prick, the other braced on his thigh. He swirls his tongue around the head, moans as though he's tasting ambrosia

"Oh my god," Stede says, his head falling against the wall behind him with a thunk. His hands find Izzy's hair

He strokes it gently, not pulling or holding and Izzy whines, pressing into his touch. He bobs forward, takes more of Stede into his mouth, tongue working like he's trying to memorize the feel of Stede's cock

"Oh, fuck, that's--" Stede says, cutting off with a gasp. Izzy takes a breath and pushes forward again, taking Stede almost all the way down his throat. "God!"

Izzy draws back, teasing the head. He takes a breath, then swallows Stede's cock again

His throat works around it, hot and tight and so fucking wet, beyond anything Stede's imagination could conjure. He rocks back, then forward again, pushing himself to take all of it, drool spilling over his chin, eyes half-lidded as he looks up at Stede, lips red and shiny, stretched around Stede's cock.

"Oh, god, Izzy, I'm-- I'm going to--"

Izzy bobs forward again, nose pressing into the blond curls at the base of Stede's prick. Stede groans.

Izzy's throat works around him, swallowing as Stede comes, hands tangled in Izzy's hair, still desperately trying not to pull. After a moment, Izzy lets his softening cock slip from his throat, the air against it cool by contrast. He nuzzles against Stede's thigh, breathing hard, eyes still lidded. Stede pets his hair, heart hammering in his chest.

"Well that was-- I mean to say--"

"Shut the fuck up and take me to an inn," Izzy says hoarsely.

"I can't believe we fucking brought him here," they mutter, "Estupido! What was I thinking?"

Olu hurries after them, eyes darting as he keeps a wary eye on the crowd around them.

"Jim, it's not your fault! How were you supposed to know? You can't predict the future, man!"

Jim shakes their head, muttering again.

"I should have checked, done some fucking recon before bringing him to the fucking bar."

They slip into an alley, eyes scanning the crowd.

"Where the fuck are they, anyway?" they mutter, knife spinning a nervous rhythm around their knuckles.

"We'll find them," Olu says, slightly out of breath as he catches up to them, resting his hands on their hips comfortingly. "At least he's with Stede, eh?"

Jim's frown only darkens, grip tightening around the hilt of their knife.

"Yeah," they say. "That's what I'm worried about."

*

Stede twists his hands nervously, looking over his shoulder.

The inkeep smirks at that, giving Stede a lascivious wink. Stede contemplates stabbing him--he's already killed two men for Izzy's honour today, a third seems like a paltry addition. Izzy's hand wraps around his wrist, restraining him.

"Not here," he says quietly, and Stede lets the tension bleed out of him, wrapping his arm more firmly around Izzy's shoulders and moving quickly through the inn. He unlocks the door to their room and ushers Izzy inside.

Izzy picks up the pitcher, pouring a small stream of water into the basin. He picks up one of the cloths, soaking it and squeezing it out.

"Come on, then," he says, looking back at Stede sharply. Stede shuffles forward, standing beside him uncertainly. His breath catches as Izzy turns to him, eyes dark, mouth set in concentration. He raises the cloth to Stede's face, gently dabbing at the blood splattered there.

"Least none of it's yours," he mutters.

He cleans the blood from Stede's face briskly, efficiently, muttering about the kind of idiot that wears green fucking silk to the Republic of fucking Pirates, the kind of fucking idiot who's going to get himself killed one of these days, and you just wait and see, mark my words and...

Stede catches Izzy's wrist in his hand, arresting the motion of the now-stained cloth. He holds it loosely enough that Izzy could easily pull away. Izzy's hand shakes.

"Izzy..." he starts. He doesn't know quite what to say, but he's prepared to muddle through as he goes. He takes a breath, licks his lips. "We really should talk about--"

Izzy kisses him, lips moving more slowly now, less urgent than their kiss in the alley, more sensual. He pulls his wrist from Stede's grasp, runs his hands down over Stede's chest before pushing his jacket back off his shoulders. It lands on the ground behind him--Stede doesn't care.

Izzy pulls back a little, grasping Stede's shoulders. He turns, pushing Stede back towards the bed, kissing him, urgent, demanding.

"Oh!" Stede squeaks as the backs of his knees hit the bed frame. He falls backwards onto the bed, slightly winded. "Oof!"

Izzy doesn't pause--he climbs on top of Stede, straddling him. He reaches down, yanking at the buttons on Stede's trousers, single-minded. There's something faintly alarming in his absolute focus.

"Izzy," Stede gasps. Izzy doesn't look up, doesn't meet his gaze. His hands shake as he struggles with the fall front. "Izzy, stop!"

Stede grasps Izzy's wrists, pulling his hands away. Izzy freezes, then pulls back like he's been burnt. He falls to the side, landing heavily on the bed, scrambling back to press himself into the wall. Stede sits back up, disheveled, breathing hard. He pushes his hair out of his face and tries to smooth his rumpled shirt.

"Izzy?" he says it quietly, raising his hands, palms out, non threatening. He pushes himself to the other side of the bed, movements slow, careful. Izzy doesn't look up. He wraps his arms around his middle, pulls his knees up towards his chest.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I shouldn't-- didn't mean to-- fuck, I know you're not..."

He trails off, staring down at the faded floral blanket.

"Just... Sorry."

Stede swallows around his sudden nausea.

"Izzy..."

Slowly, inch by inch, he moves back towards Izzy. Izzy glances up, frowning uncertainly. Stede takes a deep breath, reaching out to place a hand on Izzy's knee, hesitant.

"Um. There, there," he says, cringing internally as he gives the knee a little pat. For a moment Izzy just stares at him, incredulous. Then, to Stede's relief, he snorts, halfway between disgusted and amused.

"Christ Bonnet, seriously? Fucking 'there, there'?" Izzy shakes his head.

Stede shrugs apologetically.

"I'm a bit rubbish at this, I'm afraid," he says, smiling ruefully. "Never quite know what to do with myself."

Izzy rolls his eyes. For a moment, it feels familiar, comfortable--bickering with Izzy always comes naturally. But then Izzy's eyes fall again. He picks at a pill in the quilt, breath hitching in his throat.

"I know you don't want me," Izzy says quietly. "I fucking get it, believe me. I just..."

He trails off.

He wants to make Izzy come until he can't remember his name, let alone the pain of what's been done to him. The idea of not wanting him is so utterly bizarre, so foreign, that he doesn't even know how to respond to it.

"I just..." Izzy says again, "I don't want him to be the last man who ever touched me. I don't know how to get the feel of him off my skin."

He looks up at Stede, eyes almost pleading. Stede can feel his heart pounding in his throat.

"I--" Stede's voice flutters and stops, caught and held by the anchor of his tongue. Izzy's eyes are all he sees. He feels them like fingers tracing across his skin, electric hot, buzzing. "I don't want to hurt you"

His voice sounds weak, one last protest as he feels his resolve slipping. Izzy's shoulders slump, despair replacing pleading in his striking green eyes. Stede's resolve doesn't so much crumble as blow away, dissolving in a faint warm breeze

He stretches out alongside Izzy. Izzy's eyes widen--he looks surprised, then confused, then, well, a bit annoyed. Stede turns him with careful hands, pulling him in to rest against Stede's broad chest. He runs his hands through Izzy's hair, looking down at him, almost reverent. Izzy glances away, almost shy. Stede's hands move down over Izzy's neck, stroking and petting. Izzy pushes into his hands like a friendly cat, seeking more

"Fuck's sake, Bonnet"

And so, after a deep, steadying breath, he wraps his arms around Izzy and rolls them.

Izzy gasps, startled. Stede, his muscular forearms braced on either side of Izzy's head, smiles down at him. It's the sort of smug look that Izzy would love to wipe off his face. Izzy takes Stede's face between his hands and pulls him into a kiss. There, Izzy thinks, that'll show the bastard. Stede kisses him back, warm and soft, smelling of lavender and mint

He arches up into Stede's touch. His cunt pulses, hot between his legs.

"Fuck, Stede," he gasps, breaking off in a whine as Stede unbuttons his vest, his shirt, kissing every piece of skin as he exposes it.

Stede tosses both to the floor in a heap. He kisses his way across the firm flesh of Izzy's chest, running a hand teasingly through the soft grey and black hair that curls there. A glint of silver catches his eye as he bends toward Izzy's nipple.

A delicate silver barbell pierces it, much like the fine gold hoops he's grown used to on Ed. He wonders if they have the same effect on Izzy. He swirls his tongue over the nipple, catching the barbell and twisting it gently. Izzy clutches at the back of his head, moaning, hips pressing up to grind against Stede's thigh. He hisses, pained, and Stede pulls away.

"Oh, bugger, Izzy, I'm sorry," he says, eyes wide. Izzy catches his hands, holding onto him.

"It's fine, Bonnet, don't be so fucking wet," Izzy snarls, well aware of the irony given the slick mess Bonnet's made of his cunt. Stede looks at him with such stupid, useless concern. Against his better judgment, Izzy's expression softens. "Stede, I'm hurt, but it's fine, alright? Just fuck my ass instead."

Stede, bizarrely, looks scandalized--given what Izzy knows about Ed's preferences, it's certainly not the first time Stede's heard those words.