He uses his grip on Stede's hair and hip as leverage and thrusts blindly, urgently into the warm body stretched out beneath him. Izzy breathes in sharply through his nose, strained as he keeps pace, chases his orgasm, inching closer and closer, bit by bit.
He doesn't remember when he last had a fuck this good.
The fact that it's *Stede* writhing underneath him, scrabbling at the desk, only makes it that much sweeter, the noises that he makes -